Seas Between Us (Broad Have Roared) by Enigmaticblue

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Chapters 13 & 14

Chapter 13: If Nothing Else

"...For the night sky is an ocean/black distant sea/washing up to my window/all the stray dog night owl junkies/orphans vagabonds/all the angels who lost their halos/If nothing else/ I can dream/I'll never tell never tell/all I've seen/right in front of me ,/ like the ghost of everything that I could be/in the cool and callous grip of reality..." ~Over the Rhine, "If Nothing Else"

Wesley pulled up outside of Fred's apartment. Neither of them spoke, and the silence stretched between them tautly. "We did it."

He didn't have to ask what she was referring to. "Yes, I suppose we did."

"Do you think Lorne will join us?"

A week ago, Wesley might have been able to answer that question with confidence—hell, a week ago he would have answered nearly any question with confidence. Tonight, he felt drained of all knowledge. As though he wasn't quite sure of his own name. "I don't know."

"Will you come up?" Fred asked suddenly, turning in the seat to face him fully.

Wesley's eyes went wide. "What?"

"I don't want to be alone," Fred replied. "It's not—I mean, it's too soon, but—"

"I'll stay." He spoke impulsively, but he didn't regret the words once they were out. The gratitude on Fred's face would have been reward enough to ensure his cooperation. Wesley parked and then followed her up, noting for the thousandth time the slenderness of her frame, the grace of her walk.

He had adored her awkwardness, her rambles, the way she had been so unsure of herself when she had first come to them. These days he admired her strength, her wit, and her determination.

There were things that were worth waiting for. Wesley thought Fred might be one of them.

Fred unlocked the door to her apartment and let him precede her inside. "I'm sorry it's kind of a mess," she apologized. "I haven't been around much to clean."

"I understand." And he did, which was why she offered him a grateful smile.

She felt unaccountably nervous all of a sudden. "I just—there's the one bed. I thought—"

What she might have been thinking, Wesley never found out. He cut off her words with a kiss, needing to feel her, to know that she was alright. He owed Spike a debt he could not repay, because after seeing the poor man, who had been infected with the parasite from within the sarcophagus, Wesley knew he'd almost lost her.

Fred, as he knew her, would have been gone. Their time would have been cut short.

Still, there was nothing frantic about their embrace. Now that they were out of the law office, now that they were safe, Wesley could take his time. After all, he'd been waiting for long enough.

Fred relaxed into the embrace, remembering Spike's question of whether or not Wesley had "snogged her senseless." She wondered if this was what he'd meant, because she didn't feel senseless. Pleasantly muddled, maybe. And her limbs felt almost liquid, but strong. She felt strong at the same time.

When their kiss broke off, Fred gave a happy sigh and laid her head on Wesley's chest. "Maybe you could share the bed," she suggested. "Just to sleep."

"That sounds lovely." Wesley thought it was a dream come true. He had no idea what had changed, why Fred would have gone from assuring him that they were just friends to viewing him in a different light completely.

For once, however, he didn't want to know why. He just wanted to enjoy the moment. With everything that had been going on recently, Wesley had no idea when such an opportunity would arise again.

As Cordy might have said, it was time to carpe some diem .

~~~~~

Spike was still having trouble shaking the idea that this was all a dream. It was all too surreal.

Buffy was here, she wasn't running away, and she was close enough to touch. Not right at the moment maybe, since she was still in the shower, but in principle.

He could probably go join her, but Spike was content to lay in their bed, waiting, listening to the sounds of her in the bathroom. It was very nearly lulling him to sleep, but when she came out of the bathroom a few minutes later, he tried to rouse himself.

Buffy watched him, amused. "Go back to sleep, Spike."

"Wasn't asleep," he argued lazily. "I was waitin' for you."

"I have to dry my hair," she replied.

He snorted. "And how am I supposed to sleep with all that racket?"

"Then don't sleep."

To the observer, the exchange might have been mistaken for one of their fights, but Buffy was perfectly relaxed, and Spike had dropped back down on the bed. He was watching her through heavy-lidded eyes as she dried and brushed her hair. Spike was only about half-awake at this point, and he relaxed further.

When she climbed into bed next to him, he pulled her in close, burying his face in her clean hair and taking a deep breath.

It was easy to lie there next to her, easy to let the heat from her body seep into his. That last year, when they had fought the First, this was the lesson they had learned: to be easy in one another's company.

"Are you alright?" Spike asked. Sleepy as he was, there was still a worry niggling at the back of his mind.

"Yes, now go to sleep."

"Not until I'm sure."

The rebuke was mild, but it had her turning in his arms until they were nearly nose to nose. "What do you want me to say, Spike? That I was wrong? That you could be just as good without a soul as Angel can be bad with one?"

"Hush, luv." He took her hand in his to soothe her. "Buffy, this has nothin' to do with me. I just know—how even when you don't love somebody, you can care about them."

She shook her head stubbornly. In Buffy's mind, the two vampires were linked. She had been wrong, and Spike had paid for it. "If I had—"

"Don't." He cut her off almost harshly. "Won't have you beatin' yourself up over Peaches. You know as well as I do that year was a bad one for both of us. I could have stopped it any time."

"I never really told you how sorry I was."

"That's because you didn't need to."

The silence that lay between them then was not quite comfortable, but it was honest. "We wasted a lot of time," Buffy murmured. "I thought we had more."

"You never know how much time you have," Spike reminded her. "Either of us. We'll make the best of what we've got now." Tenderly, he cupped her cheek. "I love you."

She didn't reply, although it wasn't because she didn't return the feelings. The last few days had been an emotional roller coaster, and Buffy found herself overwhelmed with feelings she didn't know what to do with. Instead, she moved even closer, hot tears dampening Spike's chest.

And because Spike knew her so well, he didn't try and make it better, didn't try to wash it away with words. He simply held her, knowing that her being there, letting him in like this, was response enough.

~~~~~

Lorne walked into the Hyperion hotel with mixed feelings. As happy as he was to have Cordelia back—and he was most certainly happy—the entire team had been torn asunder in the last few days upon her awakening.

He couldn't manage to be happy about that.

The message from Wesley had reached him before Lorne had a chance to check in with Angel. The news was shocking, to say the least. Just the idea of Angel stealing his memories would have been bad, but pair that with the news that the vampire had killed an innocent and Lorne started to get nervous.

Nervous enough not to let Angel know where he was going—and nervous enough to do as Fred asked and pick up copies of Angel and Gunn's contracts.

"Lorne!" Cordelia came out from behind the front desk as soon as she spotted him, enveloping him in a warm embrace. "It's so good to see you!"

"You too, cupcake," Lorne replied, and even the shock wasn't enough to bleed the affection out of his voice. "And may I say you look absolutely scrumptious?"

Cordy grinned, although she tried to hide it. "Stop that. I do not."

"Of course you do." Lorne was all sincerity. "After everything—" He faltered and stopped. "Well, you look great."

"Thanks." Cordelia led him over to the round couch in the lobby. "I take it you got Wes' message."

"I spoke with Fredikins, too," Lorne replied. He held up the thick sheaf of paper he was carrying. "She asked me to pull Angel and Gunn's contracts."

Cordelia frowned, concerned. "You aren't going to get in trouble for that, are you?"

"I doubt it," Lorne replied. "Angel's holed up in his office right now. I doubt he'd notice if the building caught fire."

"And Gunn?"

"Gunn's on our side, Cordy," Lorne replied. "He just doesn't know it yet. Poor boy still thinks that Wolfram and Hart can do good . He has to, because otherwise he has to face the fact that he sold out for nothing."

Cordy sighed. Lorne's estimation squared with her own. Angel was still enjoying his vacation in the land of denial, and Gunn was trying very hard not to think about how wrong things had gone. "I guess when Wes and Fred get here we can start going over their contracts, maybe find a loophole."

Lorne shook his head. Normally he was a fairly optimistic demon, but these last couple of years had taken the Pollyanna right out of him. "Good luck," he replied dubiously. "Those lawyers there know what they're doing when they draw up a contract."

"Lorne, you didn't—"

"I didn't." Lorne patted her hand. "After seeing Miss Morgan? As tempting as the job was, I wasn't about to sign away my life after death too. I'd much rather just stay dead." Cordelia sighed in relief, and he continued. "So where are Fred and Wesley?"

Cordy shrugged. "Fred called earlier and said they had to go back over to Wes' place so he could clean up and get a change of clothes. Spike and Buffy are still sleeping, I think. It's been a really long week for all of us."

"So I can see." Lorne looked around the lobby of the Hyperion with ill-disguised longing. He had been happy here. That much he was certain of. Perhaps they would be happy here again.

The demon just wasn't sure if it would be with or without the rest of their team.

~~~~~

Hours later, the office and lobby were littered with pizza boxes and take-out containers. Both Buffy and Cordelia had given up on the research and were watching Spike, Fred, and Wesley listlessly. They were no closer to figuring out how to get Angel out of his contract.

Gunn's contract gave him an out as long as he didn't go to work for a competing firm and didn't take any clients with him. They had been comforted by that discovery. When—or if—Gunn came to his senses, he could leave. There was nothing stopping him except for himself.

Angel was a completely different story.

"I can't believe this," Spike finally growled, throwing a handful of papers down on the table. "Does he not care about his soul? What the bloody hell was he thinkin'?"

"I imagine he was thinking of nothing else but how to save his son," Wesley replied wearily. "Unfortunately, that does not give us much to work with."

Cordelia rubbed her eyes. "What if he breaks the contract and just leaves?"

"Angel loses his soul," Fred replied, making a face. "Not only that, but it—I guess you could say it goes into protective custody. Wolfram and Hart would still have it. They can do whatever they want with it."

Buffy laughed bitterly. "That bastard. If he leaves and they keep the soul—"

"We can't even perform the curse again," Spike finished for her.

"That about sums it up," Wesley agreed, burying his face in his hands.

Spike shook his head. "What if we had something to control Wolfram and Hart? Something they wanted?"

"What's that going to be?" Cordelia asked. "They're a really powerful law firm. They've got offices all over the world."

"Not to mention in several different dimensions," Fred pointed out.

Wesley sighed. "It's not a bad idea, Spike. How we would find such information, though..."

"Why should we?" Buffy asked quietly. She flushed slightly when every pair of eyes turned to look at her. "I'm not saying we should throw him to the wolves or anything, but Angel isn't doing any harm right now. In fact, he's probably preventing Wolfram and Hart from doing really bad stuff. It might be a good idea to leave him where he's at for now."

There was a long silence. "I think Buffy might be right."

Spike's words hit Wesley hard. Even though the vampire didn't much care for Angel, Wesley knew that Spike was the one least likely to give up. Apparently, Fred didn't feel the same way, because she burst out, "We can't give up on him ! He wouldn't do that to us!"

"No, but I think Spike and Buffy are right," Cordelia stated. "At least for now. If we're going to get Angel out of there, it's going to take time and probably a lot of careful planning. We have to decide what we're going to do in the meantime. It doesn't look like we'll have to pay rent on this place, not since Angel managed to pay it off. As long as he doesn't evict us."

"The Council is paying me," Buffy said. "I mean, I'm staying, and I'll help, but I'm basically a volunteer at this point. Heck, I could even support Spike."

Spike gave her a wry look. "Think I'll pass on that generous offer, luv. I can pay my own way. Just have to find out how."

"Why not start up Angel Investigations again?" Cordy asked, looking at Wesley. "We did okay last time he wasn't around. With Spike and Buffy—"

Wesley began to smile. "We would be in even better shape." He threw a warm smile at Fred. "I daresay the same could be said for having Winifred as well."

"And Lorne?" Fred asked. "Do you think he'd help?"

"He will help," Wesley said. "Lorne is planning on taking his time leaving Wolfram and Hart, however. I think he'd like to start something like Caritas up again, but that will take contacts and money. Lorne said he'd be happy to act as our unofficial eyes and ears."

"Then are we all agreed?" Cordelia asked.

Wesley and Fred both nodded. Cordy glanced over at Spike, who in turn looked at Buffy. "What do you say, pet?"

"If you stay, I'm staying," Buffy replied determinedly. "If this is what you want, I'm in."

A smile touched Spike's lips. "Why not?" he asked. "We'll save a few innocents on the way to saving Angel from himself ."

Cordelia felt nothing but relief. It wasn't going to be easy, but at least they had a direction now. They had a plan.

She felt like she had a place again, and a purpose.

Chapter 14: A Meeting of Minds

"Go down easy, babe/go down slow ./ Take all the time you need./We've no place else to go./ You threw a noose around my shadow./Got me into all this mess./I would have dove in first anyway/for less, for a whole lot less./Say farewell to the confines of my own backyard./ Weeds growin' 'round the flowers./Sometimes the only way to break the curse/is to leave it all behind." ~Over the Rhine , "Go Down Easy"

Dawn muttered to herself as she struggled to pull the second suitcase off the baggage carousel. Not that she blamed Buffy for wanting her own stuff, and the suitcase only held a fraction of it, but still. You'd think her sister would be grateful enough to send someone to help her if she couldn't get away herself. But, no. Buffy had to—

A strong hand joined hers on the handle, and the suitcase was clear of the metal side. "Want some help with that, Bit?"

Dawn whirled, finding herself nose to t-shirt clad chest. "Spike?"

"Yeah, I—" He didn't get a chance to finish, since Dawn had thrown her arms around him. "Nice to see you too," Spike muttered, returning her embrace.

"How are you?" she demanded. "Are you okay? Buffy told me about what Dana did, but she said you were okay. And the knife! You got stabbed, right? Did you find the guy who did it? Buffy said—"

Spike chuckled, stopping her words by holding up a hand. "I knew there was gonna be hell to pay for lettin' you and your sis talk so many hours on the phone."

"Are you okay?" Dawn repeated, searching his face. Some of the weariness that had been present in those last days in Sunnydale was gone, at least. She still thought Spike appeared to have aged since the first time she saw him, even though that was supposed to be impossible for vampires. He looked better, though, happier even.

He smiled at her gently. "Yeah, 'm fine. You ready to take off?"

"If we can manage to get this baggage out of here," Dawn groused good-naturedly. "You should have seen the expressions on the faces of the guys in Customs."

"They probably thought you needed a bag just for your shoes," Spike teased.

Dawn huffed. "Excuse me? I think you're confusing me with my sister. Buffy's the one with the shoe fetish, not me."

They stared at each other, and they both grew suddenly serious. "I'm sorry, Spike."

"Forget it," he replied gruffly.

She shook her head. "It was really stupid not to talk to you. Buffy told me about what happened after—you know. I felt like—"

"Forget it," Spike repeated, cutting her off. "It's water under the bridge an' all that, yeah?"

Dawn nodded. "Okay."

"You just stayin' for the week, then?" Spike asked.

She shrugged. "It's all the time I've got. It might be nice to actually finish up a school year for once."

Spike hesitated and then asked, "But you're still thinkin' 'bout comin' back here after that, right?"

"No, actually I was thinking I might join a commune in Tibet and make shawls." Dawn rolled her eyes at him. "I told both of you that I would come back. Rome was cool, but—" She stopped, unsure of how to explain that it didn't hold nearly as much charm as the idea of having her family all back together again. She had one more year of high school after this, and she wanted to spend it with the people she loved.

Spike shrugged, suddenly uncomfortable with the outpouring of emotion. It still felt strange to him that people were so demonstrative. "It'll be good to have you back. You'll have to tell us whether or not the hotel suits."

"I'm sure it's fine, Spike," Dawn replied. "It's definitely better than the old house with, like, twenty other girls, right?"

He laughed. "Yeah. Lot more space than that."

"So where's Buffy?"

Spike hesitated. "Cordy had a vision. It was a toss-up as to who went, but—" He cleared his throat. "She thought we might want some time."

Dawn grinned. "Good. I hope you're planning on buying me dinner, because I'm starved."

~~~~~

Buffy made a face and spat onto the ground. "Have I ever mentioned how much I hate vamp dust?"

"Not within the last day or two," Wesley replied, his tone dry.

She wrinkled her nose at him. "Just because your head is higher so you don't keep getting mouthfuls of the stuff doesn't mean you can mock me."

"Who said anything about mocking?" Wesley reached into the car and pulled out a bottle of water, tossing it to the Slayer.

Buffy took a long drink. "Thanks." Screwing the cap back on, she looked over at him. "So have you and Fred had 'the talk' yet?"

"What talk?"

"You know, the one where you talk about where your relationship is going and how much it means to you." She gave him a smug smile. " That talk ."

"Ah, yes."

Since it was said in the tone of voice that told Buffy that Wesley understood what she was referring to, but not necessarily that they'd done anything about it, she decided to push a bit. "Come on, Wes. Every time I see you two, you're making with the googly eyes. What gives?"

Wesley picked up on the only part of that question he felt he could answer. "Googly eyes?"

"Spike's phrase, not mine," Buffy replied quickly. "And you're avoiding the question. Is everything okay?"

She looked truly concerned, and so Wesley relented. "I—no, we haven't. We've just been—exploring." He sighed. "It's complicated."

"Because of what you don't remember?" Buffy asked.

The Slayer's powers of intuition astounded him at times, especially because Wesley knew just how obtuse she could be at others. "Precisely."

"Look, Wes, far be it from me to tell you how to conduct a romance," Buffy said, her face wry. "Because I tend to suck in that department. You and Fred are good together, though, and you care for each other. Why should it matter?"

It shouldn't, perhaps, but it did. Wesley wasn't sure what he would find behind the locked door of his mind. He didn't know what opening it would reveal, but he was going to try it anyway. "How" was the question.

Wesley thought the answer might finally be within reach.

"I don't know, but it does," he replied quietly.

Wesley started slightly when he felt a hand on his arm. "We'll find the answers," Buffy said with quiet assurance. "We always have in the past, so there's no reason not to now."

Looking into her eyes, Wesley couldn't help but believe her. "Of course."

It was just a matter of time.

~~~~~

The month or so it had taken them to adjust wasn't wasted. Just because they didn't have to pay rent on the hotel didn't mean they could afford to take things easy. Plus, there were the usual start-up expenses, things like ads in the telephone book, in the newspaper, and fliers to post around town. Thankfully, they still had business cards from the period of time when Angel had been in charge.

In some ways, it had been easier to keep the name. "Angel Investigations" had a nice ring to it, and no one could quite agree on a different moniker. They couldn't even agree on a boss. Wesley didn't want the job anymore, possibly for fear that another disaster would occur. Even though he had no memory of it, Cordelia had told him enough to make him wary of the position.

Fred and Buffy were both adamant about not being in charge; neither of them wanted the responsibility, although for different reasons. Cordelia felt about the same way, and Spike had just shaken his head when he was asked. "Still figurin' things out for myself," he'd said. "I don't want to be the boss, but I'm not sure I want to take orders, either."

The solution after that had been simple. The business had become a democracy, with the majority ruling. So far they hadn't come up against anything that would test that policy, but it would happen eventually. When it did, the default head would most likely end up being Wesley, with everyone else reserving the right to say "I told you so."

The best part, as Spike saw it, was that no one was overburdened with the problems that leadership always carried. Cordelia's story about what had happened was a morality play, really. Wesley had been in charge, and he hadn't been able to go to anyone else. It was no wonder that he'd felt the need to take matters into his own hands.

No one could say they felt the same responsibility any longer.

It was working out quite well, however. As many people as they had, the company could afford to run a number of cases at once. And, while they advertized themselves as specializing in the paranormal and unusual, they weren't turning up their noses at routine surveilance jobs, or other typical P.I. work.

Their first case—although that had been more personal—had finally been solved. Knox's body had been discovered. Apparently, he had committed suicide after he realized that he'd failed Illyria . Spike had been more than a little disappointed that he wouldn't get the chance to torture him.

Spike, to his surprise, had discovered that he enjoyed it. Of course, he might have enjoyed just about anything with Buffy by his side.

Even with the constant shadow of Angel and his bartered soul hanging over their heads, it had been—fun. Sure, there had been ups and downs, but it turned out that they all largely enjoyed one another's company.

Besides, after you start saving each other's lives, little quirks and foibles seem pretty tolerable.

"Wow, Spike," Dawn said, as they walked into the lobby of the Hyperion. "This place is amazing. You guys all live here?"

"Me an' your sister do," he admitted. "Cordelia, too. Fred and Wes have their own places, but they're here most of the time." Spike smiled. "Speakin' of..."

"Hey, Spike," Fred said cheerfully, appearing out of the back office. "You must be Dawn." She beamed at the younger woman. "I'm Fred. How was the flight?"

Dawn shrugged. "Boring, but that's to be expected. At least there wasn't much turbulence."

"Listen to the seasoned traveler," Spike murmured, a smile quirking his lips. "You want to see the room you'll be stayin' in, Niblet? I'll bring the bags up."

"I can show her, Spike," Fred replied. "Cordy's back in the office. She wants to talk to you."

Spike frowned. "Yeah, okay. Dawn?"

"I'm good," Dawn said breezily. "I think Fred will give me way more dirt than you will, anyway."

Spike shook his head as the pair headed up the stairs, then went to meet Cordelia in the office. "Cordelia? Fred said you wanted to talk to me." He glanced at the books that lay scattered around her. "Still no luck?"

"Nothing," she replied. Cordelia sighed. "I'm beginning to think there might not be a way for Angel to get out of this," she confessed.

Spike lounged in the chair across from the desk. "Give it some time, luv. There's a lot to be considered."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows. "I thought you were the guy that liked to rush into things."

"That was the old me," Spike replied easily, although the mischief in his eyes demonstrated that that trait wasn't so far in his past as to be completely buried.

"What about your soul?" Cordelia asked quietly. "I mean, if Angel went and completed the trials, could he keep his soul? Maybe make it permanent?"

Spike's brow furrowed, and he leaned forward in his seat. "Dunno," he admitted. "It depends on the relative power differential between that demon and Wolfram and Hart. If they've got as much as everybody seems to think, it could be risky."

"But there's a chance."

"There's always a chance," Spike replied. "I think we'd better look at a few other solutions before we go runnin' to Angel with that one, though. It's all up to him, an'—"

Spike stopped. Even though tact wasn't always his strong suit, he could wield it on occasion. "And Angel hasn't shown any indication that he wants to leave Wolfram and Hart."

"Yeah," Spike replied. "Of course, if we could hand him his son on a platter, make sure the kid'll still be okay, he might do it."

"You don't believe that."

It was said in a flat tone that brooked no argument, and the vampire winced. He'd kept his opinions on Angel largely to himself. The others were convinced that his grandsire needed saving, but Spike wasn't so sure. "I don't know."

"You think he's beyond help?"

"I think he might not want our help." Spike sighed. "Angel has a pretty lofty idea of his own importance," he said quietly. "He's got an even higher opinion of his ability to make the right decision. Right now, he thinks he's doin' what's best, an' I don't know how you're goin' to convince him otherwise."

Cordelia couldn't disagree, even though she wanted to. Spike—whatever his fashion sense, which Buffy was doing her poor best to remedy—was remarkably insightful. She knew Angel really well; at one point, she would have said she knew him best.

She wasn't sure she knew the Angel that was heading up Wolfram & Hart, however.

"What do you suggest I do, Spike? Give up?"

"Never." The single word had her looking at him in surprise, and she found his blue eyes fixed on her in an unwavering stare. The intensity of it shocked her. "You never give up on the people you love."

His fervent words drew a sigh of relief from Cordelia. "Thank you, Spike," she said softly, recognizing the offer of support he'd tacitly given.

Spike shrugged, uncomfortable with her gratitude. "Yeah, whatever. I'd better go see what Dawn's gotten up to. Gotta take her bags upstairs too."

"Spike." The unspoken question stopped him at the door, even though he didn't turn around. "I think I understand what Buffy sees in you."

He tossed her a grin over his shoulder. "Told you I'm not just a pretty face, Cheerleader."

Cordelia laughed a little and shook her head. Spike never could stay serious for long. She ran a finger over the framed picture on the desk. All the photos of Conner had disappeared, but there was one of all of them together she'd found among her things—Angel, Wesley, Gunn, Fred, and her. Cordy didn't remember who had taken the photo, but it hardly mattered.

What mattered was making sure that Angel was out of harm's way. Even if they were never a team again, Cordy just wanted to see him safe.

She still loved him.

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