Buffy The Vampire Slayer Fan Fiction ❯ Old Friends ❯ We Used to Be Friends ( Chapter 10 )

 

 

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Chapter #9: We Used To Be Friends

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Angel entered the crowded Bronze, Buffy at his side, a few hours after making the decision to hunt Spike down. Admittedly somewhat nervous about the confrontation, he scanned the crowd for Will's rather distinctive hair and found him seated at a table close to the dance floor, drinks in hand, with Buffy's dark-haired friend.

What was that kid's name again? Lander? Xander?

Yeah, that sounded right.

“Do you see them?” Buffy asked, standing on her tip-toes and straining to see over the crowd.

“Yeah. They're right over there.” He pointed briefly in the direction of Spike and Xander's seat, knowing she was too short to actually see. Taking her hand, he began to lead Buffy through the crowd, using his height and solid bulk to make a path.

Meanwhile, at the table, Xander turned to Spike, trying to explain. “I'm just saying that—

“I didn't ask fer yer opinion,” Spike sneered.

“I know,” Xander said, obviously straining to stay calm and patient, “This one`s for free. You like free things, remember?”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “Don't patronize me.”

“I'm not patronizing you.”

“I think I can tell when I'm being bloody patronized or not.”

“Well this time,” Xander began irritably, starting to lose his battle with patience, “you've—

“Xander! Hi!”

Xander jumped in surprise as the sudden interruption and turned to find Buffy walking up to their table, waving at him cheerfully from behind that Angel guy. “Buffy?” he asked, somewhat surprised to find her there, “What are you doing here?” He'd thought she'd said she was going to be somewhere else that night.

“Me and Angel were bored and thought we'd come visit you guys,” she said, letting go of Angel's hand and sliding into the only empty chair at the table. Angel stayed standing, hovering behind Buffy's seat almost nervously.

Spike glared at Buffy. Obviously the bitch had planned this. “I s'pose that's my cue to leave, then,” he said angrily and stood up to leave.

“No! Wait!” Angel reached out without thinking and grabbed Spike's arm.

Spike immediately yanked his arm out of Angel's grip. “Don't touch me,” he snarled, glaring. Then, turning around, he shoved past a group of teenagers and stalked off in the direction of the door.

Watching this, Angel turned to Buffy, unsure of what to do. Should he follow?

Buffy made little shoo-shoo motions with her hands. Nodding in understanding, Angel gave her a thankful look before taking off after Spike's retreating form. Losing sight of Spike easily in the crowds, Angel got out the door and looked this way and that. Catching sight of a bright blond head connected to a black leather jacket moving quickly down the street, he followed.

“Will,” Angel called when he got within voice range.

Spike felt his muscles tense at the sound of that voice, but tried to ignore it. He kept on walking.

“Will, come on,” Angel said, hurrying to catch up, “This isn't like you.”

And what did he know about what he was like? Spike scowled at the thought and didn't look back, actually speeding up his pace. He didn't want to face Angel right then and Angel was making that impossible. Couldn't he just bloody leave him the hell alone?

Angel sighed and sped up again, his longer legs easily eating up the new space between the two of them. Soon he was right on Spike's tail. “Will,” he started, “I—

“Spike,” Spike interrupted, too annoyed to let it go.

Angel blinked, confused. “I'm sorry?”

“Spike,” Spike repeated irritably and grit his teeth, angry that he had to repeat himself. “Th' name's Spike.”

“Fine. Spike,” Angel said, almost tempted to roll his eyes childishly at Spike's insistence on what Angel thought was such a stupid name, “I just wanted to ask you something. It'll only take a minute.”

Spike kept his attention face forward. “I'm not answering y' anything.”

“I just wanted to ask about Drusilla and Darla.”

“I said,” Spike said more forcibly, “I'm not answering y' anything.”

But Angel persisted. “I just wanted to know where they are.”

“Look,” getting more and more annoyed and wanting Angel to leave him the hell alone, Spike abruptly stopped and turned around to get in Angel's face. “I don't know who y' think y' are, but I'm running out of patience here. Fuck off.”

Angel looked at him. “Will . . .”

“I mean it,” Spike said, “Fuck off.”

“Just answer my question and I'll leave.”

Spike narrowed his eyes. “How `bout I don't an' y' leave before I put my fist in yer face.”

“Wi—

“The name's Spike.”

“Spike,” Angel corrected himself, “It's just one simple question.”

Spike stared at him stonily, uncompromising. “Yer running out of time.”

Angel looked back at him, exasperated and a little hurt. “Why won't you just answer me?”

“I think we both know th' answer t' that.”

Angel paused as he took that in. “Oh,” he said and Spike could see the dawning comprehension on Angel's face. About time. “This is about that.”

“Yeah,” Spike nodded, “That.”

“Will,” Angel started earnestly, still not getting Spike's name right, “you know that if I could've done anything to help I would've. You know that.”

Spike was unimpressed. “So y' left instead.”

“I had to,” Angel tried to explain, “After Penn, I—

“Right. After Penn,” Spike cut in, looking disgusted. “Things were just so hard for you.”

“Will . . .” Angel tried, but Spike was on a roll.

“Well wot about us?” Spike asked angrily, “Wot about me and Dru? You know Dru can't function without her Daddy,” giving that last word a nasty twist.

Angel looked at him somberly. “I did what I had to do.”

“Is that wot y' tell yerself so y' can sleep at night?” Spike sneered.

“It's the truth.”

Spike snorted. He didn't believe that. “Yer nothing but a coward,” and, to him, that was that. Right now, he just wanted to get away. He was too disgusted to pick a fight right then. He didn't want to even touch him.

Angel sighed and watched as Spike left. He wasn't going to get anything out of Spike when he was like this. As it was, that had actually gone a lot better than he had thought it would. Not one punch had been thrown.

Of course, that just made Angel all the more anxious for his question to be answered.

What had happened to make Spike react like that? To run away in disgust instead of using his fists? That just wasn't like him. It couldn't be just anger at Angel's disappearance. Something else must have happened.

And what had happened to Drusilla and Darla?

Angel would just have to find out some other way.

 

 

Back in the Bronze, Buffy and Xander still sat at the table and watched as Angel rushed off after Spike.

“So what do you think that was all about?” Xander asked, watching as Angel's head disappeared into the crowd.

“Oh, you know,” Buffy said casually, “It's this whole big thing they have.”

“Yeah?” Xander asked, looking over at her curiously. It sounded like she had some information. “Spike won't tell me anything.”

“Angel only told me a little bit,” Buffy confessed, “but I can take a few guesses about what really happened.”

“Yeah? What?”

“Well, apparently, the two of them were in some kind of gang together back when Angel still lived in England.”

“A gang?” Xander asked incredulously. Spike he could see, but Angel? He didn't really know the guy, but still, it was a weird thought.

Buffy shrugged. “That's what he called it.”

“Angel just doesn't really come off as the street trash type.”

“At least not next to Spike,” Buffy said. “And, actually, according to Angel, Spike used to be the cultured one. The “prude” of the group, even.”

“Spike?” Xander asked, even more incredulous, “But he's a complete man-whore.”

“That's what I said,” Buffy said, glad that someone agreed with her, “But no. Apparently he used to be this innocent little school boy, with the nice clothes and schoolbooks and everything. He was just dragged into the gang because one of the girls had a crush on him or something.”

Xander shook his head. “Weird.”

“Yeah.”

“So Angel's not an old boyfriend then?”

Buffy shrugged again. “Not that I can tell, but who really knows. I just know that something bad happened that Angel won't tell me about and the two of them went their different ways. I think Spike did something to piss Angel off and the two of them just couldn't stand looking at each other anymore.”

“That wouldn't really make sense though,” Xander said, “Spike's the one that keeps avoiding Angel. Wouldn't it be the other way around if Spike did something?”

“I guess,” Buffy allowed, “But what could Angel have done that was so bad?”

“Maybe Anya was right. Maybe he did sleep with Spike's girlfriend.”

“Maybe,” Buffy said reluctantly, tapping her fingers against the wood of the table. She didn't really want to think about Angel doing anything wrong, his admitted rough past aside. She looked up, finding another topic to talk about. “Hey, have you seen Willow recently? She's never around anymore.”

Xander shrugged. “I think she's been busy with this whole big thing for Tara. It's their anniversary or something. Or maybe it's some Wicca thing. I don't really know. Willow was talking all this stuff about string and something about red pillows and I kinda zoned out there for a bit. It was all too complicated for my small brain to comprehend.”

 

 

Spike went immediately to Willy's Bar. He needed beer and some time to get away from everything.

This week had only gone from bad to worse. First learning that Angel was in town, then having to suffer through his uncle's bumbling and unwanted attempts to reestablish their old family bonds, and then having to listen to Angel call again and again, apparently not able to get that Spike didn't want to hear a word he had to say. Spike knew that he had been unwarrantedly short with Harris that night but he didn't care. This week had stretched his nerves too thin and he was going to snap soon. That last confrontation with Angel had been the last straw. He needed a break.

It didn't help that he was being forced to act so responsible and mature, either. Going to work on time, being all neat and respectable-like, it was nauseating how good he'd been lately.

At first, it had been okay. It was all for Dru, after all. But now . . . Now when he was under this much pressure from all around? He couldn't do it.

Sure there'd been that one night he had been able to cut loose a little after he had learned of Angel's continued existence in this godawful town, but that had been it. He was used to non-stop parties and drinks, wild nights on the town, not this Leave it to Beaver-type living. It was unnatural. He actually got up before noon.

But he needed the money. And he needed to be respectable. One more mark against him in the police records and everything would be over.

His drink appearing in front of him, Spike tossed it back and motioned for another one.

Angel wouldn't give up. He knew that. He'd keep at it until he got some answers, maybe even until Spike forgave him if he saw it necessary. Which he would. He was like that.

And Spike couldn't deal with that. After what Angel had done to him and Dru? Far as Spike cared, the wanker could rot in hell. No way was he forgiving him. And that meant that he would have to deal with Angel constantly after him.

Maybe he should leave town after all.