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Title: Paper Pusher
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fenderlove
Pairing: Spike/Fred
Rating: PG for language in this chapter.
Summary: This is a new ongoing series forsockmonkeyhere's Fantasy Island request on ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
nekid_spike. The events of this story include plot points from Angel: After the Fall as well as Angel: Almost Human. Spike is working at a medical examiner's office to earn extra cash after being brought back from Hell. Gunn arrives with a proposition that Spike can't refuse.
Paper Pusher
Chapter Two
In the previous chapter of Paper Pusher…
"It wasn't all for nothing," Gunn stated calmly, his voice low, dangerous. "I can bring her back, Spike."
Spike's head tilted to the side, brow furrowed, "Whatcha mean?"
"Fred," Gunn looked up, unshed tears wetting the corners of his eyes. "Wolfram and Hart lied to me before, tricked me into unleashing Illyria's true form, but I found a loop hole... I'm going to bring Fred back to us once and for all, and I need your help."
Spike stood up quickly, one hand held out to halt the speech he could sense Gunn was going to make. His body shook slightly from anger, and he could not meet the other man’s eyes.
“Charlie, don’t... Just don’t say anything else,” Spike’s voice bordered on nervous panic.
Gunn was out of his chair too. “Spike, listen-”
“No! You listen to me,” Spike growled, “You want to atone for all your vampiric misdeeds, and that’s all fine and dandy, but don’t bring Fred into this. She’s gone, and nothing is going to bring her back. I didn’t want to believe it either, but even Illyria…” Spike felt a catch in his throat. God, he was not going to cry. “Illyria admitted that the only thing left of Fred were little flashes of memory.”
“It’s not like that. Everything’s different. There’s a way to-”
Spike interrupted him again, “I want to remind you that no matter what you remember about being trapped in an unspeakable hell dimension, I remember what you tried to do. You were the one who wanted to bring out Illyria’s true form, and maybe Wolfram and Hart made you believe that that’s what they wanted as well, but Angel almost wound up as their puppet because of that contraption you built! And not the adorable wee little puppet man kind of puppet either!”
“They put those ideas in my head… I would never…” Gunn looked away, paused.
“You’re backsliding, Charlie-boy. The first step to overcoming your evil addiction is to admit that you have an evil problem,” Spike’s voice softened, feeling a kinship with Gunn’s plight.
Slumping back into the uncomfortable plastic chair, Gunn put his face in his hands, “I know… but I was so sure that this would work.” He took a moment to compose himself, “It’s probably just a trick, the last of Wolfram and Hart tapping into my brain, but…”
“But?” Spike implored, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Our contracts,” Gunn stated. “You never signed one, but the rest of us… We all signed contracts when we started working at Wolfram and Hart.”
Spike quirked an eyebrow, “Yeah, and?”
Gunn sighed, “The thing about Wolfram and Hart’s contracts is that they tether you to Wolfram and Hart, just like that amulet tied you to the building when you got brought back as a ghost.”
“Like the spooks that couldn’t pass on until Pavayne got to them,” Spike spoke quietly.
“In legal terms, it’s a standard perpetuity clause. A contract, once signed, connects you to Wolfram and Hart forever, even after your death. There was a lawyer who worked there that died, but the thing was she showed up to give us the grand tour,” Gunn continued, “We should have known then not to sign…”
Spike’s gaze fixed on the poorly grouted tile floor, “And Fred… You’re sure she signed on of these contracts?”
“Yes, we all did. It’s why I think that’s why I was so messed up and how they were able to get to me. They still had a piece of my human self. And it’s why Wesley was stuck as a ghostly link to the Senior Partners when we were in Hell. They were able to keep his spirit separated from his body so that he’d be easier to control.”
“Yeah, I know what that experience is like,” Spike shuddered, thinking about his time being unable to physically interact with anyone or anything.
Gunn nodded, “And that’s what they would have done to Angel if Buffy hadn’t given you the amulet instead.”
“But the building is gone… There was nothing left,” Spike hardly noticed the words leaving his mouth. It was like his brain was on autopilot while his stomach knotted fiercely.
Leaning forward, Gunn stated, “Nothing’s ever gone forever. Wesley told us that the contracts are mystical; they can’t be destroyed. We would just need to find out where they have been taken. Maybe to one of the other Wolfram and Hart branches?”
Spike took a deep breath. He scarcely wanted to believe it, though the thought had crossed his mind millions of times before. What if Fred could still be saved? He could make up for letting her down before, but what if the endeavor Gunn was proposing really was a trick, one last mental-mind-fuck before Wolfram and Hart went to whatever Neitherworld they were occupying to lick their wounds?
“So,” Spike spoke slowly and carefully, “your idea is to find Fred’s contract, wherever it is, and then…” His voice trailed off, not able to articulate the words, almost afraid to hear them aloud.
“It’s possible her soul might be still attached to Wolfram and Hart. We could bring her back,” Gunn finished with a determined and serious expression.
“Sweet Christ, Charles,” Spike didn’t know what to say. He got up and began to pace the length of the cramped break room, his hands behind his head, his chest rising shakily with unneeded breath.
Gunn knew how difficult it must be to think about trying once more to save their friend. An unconscious regret that if they had thought of this sooner, before it was too late, then perhaps the alley way battle and everything that followed would not have happened.
“We’ll have to find a way to repair her body so that her soul could be restored,” Gunn said with some apprehension.
Spike turned sharply, “And what about Illyria? What happens to her? I promised Wesley that I’d take care of her… And what of Wesley for that matter? Are we going to try to resurrect him too?”
“Wesley was separated from his body, which has long since decomposed, and I’m fairly certain that the white light he walked into was a good thing,” Gunn responded, though he unsurely asked, “Did you get that feeling?”
Spike gave him a glare, “I think Wesley would have made us think that so we’d let him go. But if we succeed in this, he would have something to live for again if we could bring Fred back.”
“We need to focus on the contracts as a first step. Even if we can’t bring anyone back to life, it’s important that we sever all ties to Wolfram and Hart. I don’t like the idea of Evil Incorporated having strings attached to my body and soul after I die,” Gunn replied. “The same thing goes for Angel.”
“And Illyria?” Spike’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed.
“Trust me, she’s working on our side in this,” he said and then added, “She’s tired, Spike. Illyria wants a new situation, for lack of a better term.”
Spike’s expression darkened, “Is that where she is now? Real estate shopping? Bloody hell, man! Drogyn told Angel and me that drawing out Illyria would kill hundreds of thousands!” The thought of Illyria hunting down another person to infect and inhabit made Spike physically ill. He idly wondered if vampires could get ulcers.
Gunn looked as though he was barely restraining his own temper, “That was only to draw her back to the Deeper Well. If we had a host ready for her, right there-”
“Do you hear yourself? You want to sacrifice someone to her?!” Spike shook his head, disgusted that it appeared Gunn had learned nothing from his trip to Amoral Street.
“Illyria feels emotions,” Gunn said assuredly. “She understands how important Fred is to us, and she wants to help undo the damage she’s caused. If Illyria can find a willing host, one of her old followers, then there’s a chance that we can heal Fred’s physical body and restore her soul. Please, even if there’s only a slight chance that Fred’s still out there, we owe her to try. I owe her, Spike. We can’t leave her in Wolfram and Hart’s hands.”
For a brief moment, Spike could see Fred smiling, her glasses slightly askew. Thoughts of her little laugh, her warmth, and her kindness made his heart metaphorically skip a beat. His memories of Fred had been given to Illyria, along with Wesley’s, and were certainly part of the reason the former God-King now knew what she had inadvertently taken from all of them. Spike had fooled himself for a long time after Fred’s death, pretending she was still with him, hidden deep within Illyria. It was an incredible hurt to hold onto the hope that one day he could save her, so different than what he felt when Buffy had sacrificed herself for Dawn, and yet very much the same. In the end, he let Fred go, unable to shoulder the hopelessness of what had happen to her or the consequences of returning her to a body ravaged by Illyria’s demonic form. He had seen first hand the pain that Buffy’s friends had caused in bringing her back from the Heavenly dimension she’d been placed in. What would Fred come back to? Wesley was gone, and Spike did not want to think of incurring fresh agonies upon her after the horrific death she suffered.
Illyria too had suffered. She had not asked for her resurrection to be so complicated, hadn’t asked for human emotions that she couldn’t understand. She never meant to hurt Fred intentionally, but she dealt with the fallout from it. Spike worried about what a new host would do to her. Fred had been a loving person, full of positive emotion. What would happen if the next person Illyria decided to inhabit was not of the same character as Fred? Illyria soaked up the remnants of Fred’s personality and parroted them. Pick the wrong host body, and the results could be disastrous.
However, if Gunn and Angel were still bound to Wolfram and Hart via their contracts, Spike knew that he had to help them before any other repercussions could occur. The other details of Gunn’s plan could be dealt with later.
“All right,” Spike whispered. He cleared his throat, “All right, where do we start?”
Gunn looked surprised and then stood up, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it to Spike.
“Meet me at that address tomorrow night. We’re going to have a chat with a contact I’ve got that might be able to give us a rundown on how we will find where Wolfram and Hart have moved their permanent records,” he informed.
Spike stared at the address for a moment, “Have you told Angel about any of this?”
“No, he doesn’t know,” Gunn replied.
Spike’s jaw ticked. “Why’d you ask me and not him, Charlie?”
Zipping up the front of his hoodie, Gunn answered simply, “Because you love Fred.”
“Angel loves Fred. Hell, everyone loves Fred,” Spike couldn’t help but smile thinking about her. It both eased the pain in his heart and caused more of it.
“But you love her,” Gunn stated matter-of-factly.
Spike began to deny it but wouldn’t do the lady the disservice. “I have to tell you that that doesn't make me the ideal candidate to be thinking clearly when it comes to decision-making. I could do something stupid, selfish, and reckless.”
Gunn snorted, “You’d probably do something like that anyway.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s been squared away. I’d hate to think that you came to me because you were avoiding Angel over a little thing like killing him." There was more venom in that statement than Spike intended.
Gunn started at that, but he didn’t respond. He grabbed two more of Dr. Dominick’s red velvet cake squares from the plate on the break room table and shoved them into his hoodie pocket. “Tell your girlfriend she makes good cake.”
And with that, he was gone.
Spike was left alone again, staring down at the address Gunn had given him.
Hargreaves & Sons
1117 Langley Blvd.
- Ring bell and wait. –
Hargreaves & Sons? More lawyers? Possible tailors? Who would willingly give up information about the inner workings of one of the most evil institutions on Earth?
The rattling of the refrigerator defrosting drew Spike from his thoughts. He rewrapped the snacks Dr. Dominick had left him and left the Forensic Pathology wing, not bothering to change out of his scrubs. Though he hadn’t done the best job cleaning up, Spike felt like going home and getting into bed. He hoped the Doc wouldn’t be too irritated at him for leaving early. Pulling his duster over his scrubs, Spike practically ran back to his apartment.
When he had finally fallen asleep, Spike dreamt of Fred, could feel her hands touching his face and could smell her soft perfume surrounding him. Even in unconsciousness, Spike knew he was about to do something stupid, selfish, and reckless.
To be continued...
Previous Chapters: One.
x-posted onnekid_spike and darker_spike
Author:
fenderlovePairing: Spike/Fred
Rating: PG for language in this chapter.
Summary: This is a new ongoing series for
sockmonkeyhere's Fantasy Island request on nekid_spike. The events of this story include plot points from Angel: After the Fall as well as Angel: Almost Human. Spike is working at a medical examiner's office to earn extra cash after being brought back from Hell. Gunn arrives with a proposition that Spike can't refuse.Paper Pusher
Chapter Two
In the previous chapter of Paper Pusher…
"It wasn't all for nothing," Gunn stated calmly, his voice low, dangerous. "I can bring her back, Spike."
Spike's head tilted to the side, brow furrowed, "Whatcha mean?"
"Fred," Gunn looked up, unshed tears wetting the corners of his eyes. "Wolfram and Hart lied to me before, tricked me into unleashing Illyria's true form, but I found a loop hole... I'm going to bring Fred back to us once and for all, and I need your help."
Spike stood up quickly, one hand held out to halt the speech he could sense Gunn was going to make. His body shook slightly from anger, and he could not meet the other man’s eyes.
“Charlie, don’t... Just don’t say anything else,” Spike’s voice bordered on nervous panic.
Gunn was out of his chair too. “Spike, listen-”
“No! You listen to me,” Spike growled, “You want to atone for all your vampiric misdeeds, and that’s all fine and dandy, but don’t bring Fred into this. She’s gone, and nothing is going to bring her back. I didn’t want to believe it either, but even Illyria…” Spike felt a catch in his throat. God, he was not going to cry. “Illyria admitted that the only thing left of Fred were little flashes of memory.”
“It’s not like that. Everything’s different. There’s a way to-”
Spike interrupted him again, “I want to remind you that no matter what you remember about being trapped in an unspeakable hell dimension, I remember what you tried to do. You were the one who wanted to bring out Illyria’s true form, and maybe Wolfram and Hart made you believe that that’s what they wanted as well, but Angel almost wound up as their puppet because of that contraption you built! And not the adorable wee little puppet man kind of puppet either!”
“They put those ideas in my head… I would never…” Gunn looked away, paused.
“You’re backsliding, Charlie-boy. The first step to overcoming your evil addiction is to admit that you have an evil problem,” Spike’s voice softened, feeling a kinship with Gunn’s plight.
Slumping back into the uncomfortable plastic chair, Gunn put his face in his hands, “I know… but I was so sure that this would work.” He took a moment to compose himself, “It’s probably just a trick, the last of Wolfram and Hart tapping into my brain, but…”
“But?” Spike implored, his curiosity getting the better of him.
“Our contracts,” Gunn stated. “You never signed one, but the rest of us… We all signed contracts when we started working at Wolfram and Hart.”
Spike quirked an eyebrow, “Yeah, and?”
Gunn sighed, “The thing about Wolfram and Hart’s contracts is that they tether you to Wolfram and Hart, just like that amulet tied you to the building when you got brought back as a ghost.”
“Like the spooks that couldn’t pass on until Pavayne got to them,” Spike spoke quietly.
“In legal terms, it’s a standard perpetuity clause. A contract, once signed, connects you to Wolfram and Hart forever, even after your death. There was a lawyer who worked there that died, but the thing was she showed up to give us the grand tour,” Gunn continued, “We should have known then not to sign…”
Spike’s gaze fixed on the poorly grouted tile floor, “And Fred… You’re sure she signed on of these contracts?”
“Yes, we all did. It’s why I think that’s why I was so messed up and how they were able to get to me. They still had a piece of my human self. And it’s why Wesley was stuck as a ghostly link to the Senior Partners when we were in Hell. They were able to keep his spirit separated from his body so that he’d be easier to control.”
“Yeah, I know what that experience is like,” Spike shuddered, thinking about his time being unable to physically interact with anyone or anything.
Gunn nodded, “And that’s what they would have done to Angel if Buffy hadn’t given you the amulet instead.”
“But the building is gone… There was nothing left,” Spike hardly noticed the words leaving his mouth. It was like his brain was on autopilot while his stomach knotted fiercely.
Leaning forward, Gunn stated, “Nothing’s ever gone forever. Wesley told us that the contracts are mystical; they can’t be destroyed. We would just need to find out where they have been taken. Maybe to one of the other Wolfram and Hart branches?”
Spike took a deep breath. He scarcely wanted to believe it, though the thought had crossed his mind millions of times before. What if Fred could still be saved? He could make up for letting her down before, but what if the endeavor Gunn was proposing really was a trick, one last mental-mind-fuck before Wolfram and Hart went to whatever Neitherworld they were occupying to lick their wounds?
“So,” Spike spoke slowly and carefully, “your idea is to find Fred’s contract, wherever it is, and then…” His voice trailed off, not able to articulate the words, almost afraid to hear them aloud.
“It’s possible her soul might be still attached to Wolfram and Hart. We could bring her back,” Gunn finished with a determined and serious expression.
“Sweet Christ, Charles,” Spike didn’t know what to say. He got up and began to pace the length of the cramped break room, his hands behind his head, his chest rising shakily with unneeded breath.
Gunn knew how difficult it must be to think about trying once more to save their friend. An unconscious regret that if they had thought of this sooner, before it was too late, then perhaps the alley way battle and everything that followed would not have happened.
“We’ll have to find a way to repair her body so that her soul could be restored,” Gunn said with some apprehension.
Spike turned sharply, “And what about Illyria? What happens to her? I promised Wesley that I’d take care of her… And what of Wesley for that matter? Are we going to try to resurrect him too?”
“Wesley was separated from his body, which has long since decomposed, and I’m fairly certain that the white light he walked into was a good thing,” Gunn responded, though he unsurely asked, “Did you get that feeling?”
Spike gave him a glare, “I think Wesley would have made us think that so we’d let him go. But if we succeed in this, he would have something to live for again if we could bring Fred back.”
“We need to focus on the contracts as a first step. Even if we can’t bring anyone back to life, it’s important that we sever all ties to Wolfram and Hart. I don’t like the idea of Evil Incorporated having strings attached to my body and soul after I die,” Gunn replied. “The same thing goes for Angel.”
“And Illyria?” Spike’s head tilted to the side, his eyes narrowed.
“Trust me, she’s working on our side in this,” he said and then added, “She’s tired, Spike. Illyria wants a new situation, for lack of a better term.”
Spike’s expression darkened, “Is that where she is now? Real estate shopping? Bloody hell, man! Drogyn told Angel and me that drawing out Illyria would kill hundreds of thousands!” The thought of Illyria hunting down another person to infect and inhabit made Spike physically ill. He idly wondered if vampires could get ulcers.
Gunn looked as though he was barely restraining his own temper, “That was only to draw her back to the Deeper Well. If we had a host ready for her, right there-”
“Do you hear yourself? You want to sacrifice someone to her?!” Spike shook his head, disgusted that it appeared Gunn had learned nothing from his trip to Amoral Street.
“Illyria feels emotions,” Gunn said assuredly. “She understands how important Fred is to us, and she wants to help undo the damage she’s caused. If Illyria can find a willing host, one of her old followers, then there’s a chance that we can heal Fred’s physical body and restore her soul. Please, even if there’s only a slight chance that Fred’s still out there, we owe her to try. I owe her, Spike. We can’t leave her in Wolfram and Hart’s hands.”
For a brief moment, Spike could see Fred smiling, her glasses slightly askew. Thoughts of her little laugh, her warmth, and her kindness made his heart metaphorically skip a beat. His memories of Fred had been given to Illyria, along with Wesley’s, and were certainly part of the reason the former God-King now knew what she had inadvertently taken from all of them. Spike had fooled himself for a long time after Fred’s death, pretending she was still with him, hidden deep within Illyria. It was an incredible hurt to hold onto the hope that one day he could save her, so different than what he felt when Buffy had sacrificed herself for Dawn, and yet very much the same. In the end, he let Fred go, unable to shoulder the hopelessness of what had happen to her or the consequences of returning her to a body ravaged by Illyria’s demonic form. He had seen first hand the pain that Buffy’s friends had caused in bringing her back from the Heavenly dimension she’d been placed in. What would Fred come back to? Wesley was gone, and Spike did not want to think of incurring fresh agonies upon her after the horrific death she suffered.
Illyria too had suffered. She had not asked for her resurrection to be so complicated, hadn’t asked for human emotions that she couldn’t understand. She never meant to hurt Fred intentionally, but she dealt with the fallout from it. Spike worried about what a new host would do to her. Fred had been a loving person, full of positive emotion. What would happen if the next person Illyria decided to inhabit was not of the same character as Fred? Illyria soaked up the remnants of Fred’s personality and parroted them. Pick the wrong host body, and the results could be disastrous.
However, if Gunn and Angel were still bound to Wolfram and Hart via their contracts, Spike knew that he had to help them before any other repercussions could occur. The other details of Gunn’s plan could be dealt with later.
“All right,” Spike whispered. He cleared his throat, “All right, where do we start?”
Gunn looked surprised and then stood up, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out a scrap of paper and handed it to Spike.
“Meet me at that address tomorrow night. We’re going to have a chat with a contact I’ve got that might be able to give us a rundown on how we will find where Wolfram and Hart have moved their permanent records,” he informed.
Spike stared at the address for a moment, “Have you told Angel about any of this?”
“No, he doesn’t know,” Gunn replied.
Spike’s jaw ticked. “Why’d you ask me and not him, Charlie?”
Zipping up the front of his hoodie, Gunn answered simply, “Because you love Fred.”
“Angel loves Fred. Hell, everyone loves Fred,” Spike couldn’t help but smile thinking about her. It both eased the pain in his heart and caused more of it.
“But you love her,” Gunn stated matter-of-factly.
Spike began to deny it but wouldn’t do the lady the disservice. “I have to tell you that that doesn't make me the ideal candidate to be thinking clearly when it comes to decision-making. I could do something stupid, selfish, and reckless.”
Gunn snorted, “You’d probably do something like that anyway.”
“Well, I’m glad that’s been squared away. I’d hate to think that you came to me because you were avoiding Angel over a little thing like killing him." There was more venom in that statement than Spike intended.
Gunn started at that, but he didn’t respond. He grabbed two more of Dr. Dominick’s red velvet cake squares from the plate on the break room table and shoved them into his hoodie pocket. “Tell your girlfriend she makes good cake.”
And with that, he was gone.
Spike was left alone again, staring down at the address Gunn had given him.
Hargreaves & Sons
1117 Langley Blvd.
- Ring bell and wait. –
Hargreaves & Sons? More lawyers? Possible tailors? Who would willingly give up information about the inner workings of one of the most evil institutions on Earth?
The rattling of the refrigerator defrosting drew Spike from his thoughts. He rewrapped the snacks Dr. Dominick had left him and left the Forensic Pathology wing, not bothering to change out of his scrubs. Though he hadn’t done the best job cleaning up, Spike felt like going home and getting into bed. He hoped the Doc wouldn’t be too irritated at him for leaving early. Pulling his duster over his scrubs, Spike practically ran back to his apartment.
When he had finally fallen asleep, Spike dreamt of Fred, could feel her hands touching his face and could smell her soft perfume surrounding him. Even in unconsciousness, Spike knew he was about to do something stupid, selfish, and reckless.
To be continued...
Previous Chapters: One.
x-posted on
nekid_spike and darker_spike
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