Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer (tv), Angel (tv)
Pairing: Andrew and Spike
Summary/Teaser: Andrew is conflicted.
Spoilers: "Chosen" (BtVS 7.22), "Damage" (Angel 5.11)
Notes: Written for angelsgracie for enfaith’s non-canon relationship ficathon. The request: Spike/Andrew with Conflict Resolution
Word Count: 876
Standard Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and co. own the characters, I’m just playing with them. I do, however, own this story, so don’t steal it. Archive it anywhere; just ask first.
Feedback is always appreciated. Make me blush with praise or rip apart the story with criticism, or both.
The title rips off (and slightly twists) a line from Tori Amos’s song “Precious Things.”
Andrew couldn’t stop thinking about Spike. He hadn’t told anyone Spike was back yet, told himself it was because he didn’t want the knowledge to cloud Buffy’s judgment, but in his more honest moments he knew it was because he liked having a secret all his own. Okay, so everyone in L.A. knew Spike was back, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that no one from Sunnydale knew.
He had been so glad to see Spike, even though he knew he was on the wrong side. Though Spike wasn’t exactly doing the Wolfram and Hart thing full force. He had that whole Lone Avenger thing going on. And who could blame him, really. Spike was so much cooler than Angel.
He hadn’t believed it at first, seeing Spike there in the conference room. He had feared it was the First Evil somehow resurfaced -- after all, if the First Evil were to be found anywhere, it would be in the bowels of Wolfram and Hart -- but no, he was corporeal. Never did find out how it had happened, but he was very much corporeal. Viggo pecs and everything.
He found himself remembering when Warren -- well, The First Evil masquerading as Warren, really -- had come back, had told him to kill Jonathan.
“If you strike me down, I shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine.” “He is our last hope.”
He wondered if something had brought Spike back for another great battle none of them could yet anticipate. And maybe he, Andrew Wells, Future Watcher Extraordinaire, was charged with bringing this White Knight back to the side of the good.
“Hello?” Spike’s voice was a cross between puzzled and grumpy.
“Spike, it’s me, Andrew.”
Spike held the phone receiver at arms length, gawking at it as if its black plastic somehow had the antidote to his confusion. Realizing how foolish that was, he shook his head and brought the receiver back to his ear.
“Andrew? What are you--? How did you get this number--?”
“Well, I had the number for Wolfram and Hart, of course, and from there it was really quite simple since the switchboard has a master list of the phone numbers for everyone in the building.”
“Oh, well, that makes sense then.” A pause. “So why are you calling, anyway? Didn’t think any of us were much on your good side. Got another crazed Slayer you want us to hogtie so you can take her away to headquarters?”
Andrew affected a haughty accent and laugh. “Oh no, nothing of the sort. This call is strictly about you. Wolfram and Hart will never be on our good side, but you, Spike, you’re not like them.”
“Cut to the chase, boy.”
“Who brought you back?”
“Dunno. Doesn’t matter. ‘M back now, fightin’ the good fight and all that.”
“Yes, but you’re working for Wolfram and Hart. Doesn’t that make you feel dirty?”
Spike couldn’t believe he was having this conversation, nevermind over the bloody telephone. He’d always hated the contraptions. Couldn’t see who you were talking to, couldn’t smell them.
“Listen, Andrew, I’m not going to go work for you and your bloody Council.”
“It’s not actually bloody, that’s rather the appeal of it. Lots of staking, certainly, but vamps conveniently leave a mere pile of dust. Oh there’s the occasional demon, complete with slime and pus, but none of that troublesome blood money Wolfram and Hart is so renowned for.”
“Andrew, I’ve heard all this baloney before. Some days it seems like it’s all these people talk about: whether they’ve sold their souls, whether the good they’re doing outweighs the evil they’re abetting. I’m sick of those arguments. I know I can do good here and that’s what’s important. Give me one reason I haven’t already heard or I’m hanging this phone up right this instant.”
“I love you.” Spike was speechless. “There, I’ve said it. I love you. I’ve loved you since the day I met you. I admired your bravery and your dedication -- and your immaculate hair and stunning pectorals. I felt, you know, a certain kinship with you. Men who had done dark deeds but committed themselves to the side of good. I didn’t believe Buffy at first when she said you had burned up saving the world. I couldn’t believe you hadn’t made it out of there alive somehow -- well, alive in a vampiric sense. You had always seemed larger than life; I couldn’t believe you no longer walked the earth. And then I found out you really had come back. But you were on the wrong side. And I just, I couldn’t let you stay there. Away from me,” he finished in almost a whisper.
“Andrew, you sound like you’ve had a fucking religious conversion. The fight against evil is the fight against evil, whoever’s tools you use. I’m sorry. I’m sorry I can’t be, what you want me to be. But I just can’t. And you need to accept that. Good-bye, Andrew.”
Andrew hung up the phone, tears in his eyes. He couldn’t tell Buffy that Spike was back now, not when he was insistent upon working with the enemy. He’d let one secret out already, and now he was just left with this terrible burden.