Title: How To Beat The High Cost Of
Living In
Author: Buffywatcher
Feedback: Constructive comments always
welcome: jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: Spike/Angel(us), Spike/Lindsey
(Implied but Non-con)
Rating: Strong R to maybe soft, romantic
NC-17
Spoilers: A few minor ones here or there,
dealing with mostly their pasts together.
Warnings: Strong sexual overtones, violence,
ya know the usual…
Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of
harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their
owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s Notes: This story takes place in an AU
setting. Angel still runs Angel Investigations with a team consisting of
Cordelia, Fred, Gunn, Wesley, and Lorne but there is no Connor and the bit with
Darla and Dru did happen but they died in the fire. Spike’s time in Sunnydale
was limited as he chose to leave town when he was chipped to make his own way
in the world rather than depend on the Scoobies for help. You can consider the
rest of their histories to be pretty much as shown on the shows. Please excuse
any minor discrepancies or artist license. As always thanks are going out to
GF, MarieC, Luba, and Mera my most excellent group of Beta/Editors.
Writer’s Credits: Features the song the Miracles by
Distribution: If I’ve already been given
permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If I
haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email
me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit.
Summary: While investigating a case for a
high society client Angel is shocked to discover Spike is living in
*Character Thoughts*
Introspective narratives
Night has come to the City of Angels
and like the tides, life in the city moves to a rhythm as old as time as itself
as the sunlight flows away carrying it’s crowd of suited and skirted followers.
The rising of the moon inundates the city with the stylish, the gaudy, the
bizarre, and the sublime fashions of the
By day the chrome and glass of
towering skyscrapers reflect the sunlight into a veritable sea of colours as
the streets are awash in the familiar, cloaked in a veneer of safety. Night
falls and in a city where the lights shine brighter than the stars life goes on
in a never ending illusion this civilised place is anything but the jungle it
truly is. Whether there are towering buildings of chrome and glass or eldritch
giants weeping with age as they stretch their branches wide, death makes no distinction,
for it hasn’t any eyes. The rich and the poor, the sacred and the damned, the
taken too soon and the taken too late, they all meet death when their time
comes. It hunts where it hunts and it takes whom it must take with no regard
for desire or mercy. How funny it should be that man should know equality only
when his life is over.
That is but one facet of this city, where
death walks openly; among the gaily dancing people flitting through their lives
like butterflies flitting among the flowers adorning their fellows’ graves.
Even in the brightest hours of the sunniest days there are always places where
no light falls, where no laughter rings and cries are the only music that ever
plays. The only lights in these darkest of places are those that are brave
enough to face the darkness from without and from within. This is the City of
Chapter One
Spike feels the weight hitting his back and clinging as he dives head
first off of the roof, his hands reaching out as he twists with agile ease and
catches the fire escape slowing his fall and deflecting into a loose
summersault that has him landing lightly on his feet.
Oz pushes off his back where he has been clinging and runs into the
darkness on all fours a low growl rumbling through the night. Spike stalks
after him and finds him crouched over a quaking Vampire he’s got cornered in
the filthy alleyway.
“Bernard, Bernard…we were only going to ask you a question. Why do you
always make us chase you through the streets when you know we ALWAYS catch
you?” Oz growls in his rough wolfish voice.
Spike strolls leisurely up the alley. “Be glad he’s already eaten.” Oz
grins flashing the muzzle full of glistening white teeth he’s sporting.
“Someone down on the docks has been working over the imports, three Asian Mori
Demons in as many days all taken right off the boats bringing them in Bernard. We
know that you know who is selling these girls into slavery Bernard. Nothing
happens in the flesh trades that you don’t know about. You can tell us in which
case we’ll probably let you walk out of here under your own steam, or keep
jerking us around and Oz here gets a bit peckish and you leave as a bowel
movement.” Spike stops beside Oz sinking his hand into the rough fur at the
back of his neck and shakes lightly as the Werewolf leans against his side in
an answering wolf caress but neither take their eyes off of Bernard. Spike
lightly brushes his fingertips over the golden collar all but hidden by Oz’s
thick pelt of fur as he looks at the trapped Vampire with no trace of emotion.
“I don’t know, I swear I don’t know who is behind the kidnappings!”
Bernard swears in a rush as he stares fixedly, fear rolling off his shaking
form until it fills the alleyway with its sweet perfume. “Someone new, that’s
all I know! They’re brokering the sales through the White Swan in
“Not anymore Bernard, we burnt the place to the ground last night.”
Spike says with a cold smile that has Bernard lowering his eyes and pressing
his back tighter into the small corner. “One week Bernard.” The quaking Vampire
looks up hopefully. “That’s how long you have to find out what we want to know
and give us a reason to keep you around. One week Bernard for you to find out
who’s behind the new slave ring and everything else you can find out about them
will be the price of your life. Understood?” The pimp nods frantically as Spike
and Oz slowly turn and walk slowly back out of the alley.
“Wait! How will I contact you when I have the information?” Bernard
calls out frantically knowing that if he does screw this up it’s going to be
the last time he does anything at all before he ends up a pile of dust. Spike
has never been known for his patience with failures and whether or not he knows
it, there are few Vampires in
“You won’t need to find us Bernard, we’ll find you. For your sake, have
some good news for us when we do.” Spike’s voice drifts back.
Spike and Oz turn the corner and straighten their clothes and smooth
their ruffled hair neatly as they navigate the back alleys with familiar ease.
“Do you think he’ll find out anything we can filter to Angel?” Oz asks.
“I trust he’s motivated enough now to find out something that’s worth
sparing his life over.” Spike says with an impish grin that has Oz chuckling.
He reaches over and brushes his fingertips around the thin gold torc around
Oz’s throat. “How’s the bit of sparkly working out? Your control was rock solid
this time around.” Spike says pleased.
Oz tilts his head to the side, glancing fondly at his roommate of four
years. “Between your lessons and training and Ethan’s gift…” He brushes the torc
around his throat. “…It’s easier not to lose myself when I change and the pain
is barely noticeable now that I’ve stopped fighting the change.”
Spike smiles pleased by that news. “Ethan does have quite the talent for
the mojo.” He glances at his watch. “We’d better run or we’ll be late.” He realises
breaking into an easy sprint that Oz is more than capable of keeping up with.
The attractive pair draws their share of second, third, and forth
glances as they bob and weave their way with agile grace through the crowds out
enjoying the
They break through the back door of the pub on a wave of laughter,
earning them the amused laughter of Seamus, the owner and bartender and the
exasperated shaking of Harmony’s head that always precedes her huge smile at
the sight of Oz.
Spike pats Oz on the shoulder as he passes by, pressing a quick kiss to
Harmony’s cheek as she darts passed him in her rush to reach Oz and hops up
onto a bar stool. He smiles as Seamus hands him a mug and slides a shot glass
of Jack Daniels in front of him.
“You do spoil me so Seamus, thanks Mate.” Spike says with a smile and
hurriedly downs the mug of pig’s blood and chases it down with the shot of
Whiskey.
“If it’ll keep you happy and playing in my pub with your mates Lad then
it’s worth it. You be good for me business you lot. Besides, since you all
started coming here I’ve barely had any trouble with the bad sorts around these
days. So ye just be drinking and enjoying me hospitality Lad.” The grizzled old
owner says gruffly, but the affectionate smile on his face kind of ruins the
brusque tone.
Spike gets the hint and claps the wizened old softy on the shoulder. He
smiles before heading for the small stage area and picking up a guitar and
strumming it softly, his fingers flying over the strings and chords as a
passionate Spanish guitar melody floats out over the appreciative crowd. Spike
catches Oz’s eye and winks slowly, letting him know he’s got things covered and
he can enjoy some quiet time with his girl.
He finishes the melody with a flourish to a round of soft applause from
an appreciative crowd which he is happy to see has grown to include Ethan, who
holds up his mug of beer in a toast to his fine playing. He pulls up a padded
stool and sits down bracing one boot heel on one of the support struts and
settles his guitar across his lap. He adjusts the microphone and strums a quiet
tune, tapping his foot to the rhythm.
“Welcome to Seamus’ Folly, I’m Wil and my mate Oz and I are here to sing
you a tune and play you a song or two to help the beer go down as your spirits
go up.” Spike says softly, the microphone carrying it easily to every nook and
cranny of the modest pub. “It’s a tradition here at The Folly to open the night
with Seamus’ favourite tune, so if your eyes are Irish get them ready to smile
brightly.” Spike smiles as he sings and the regulars join in on the chorus of
‘When Irish eyes are smiling’ but no one is as enthusiastic as Seamus himself.
*This is the life.* Spike thinks as he looks around the small pub at the
smiling faces of his singing friends. *It doesn’t get much better than this. It
looks like this is going to be a good evening.* He puts his heart into the
music and lets it carry his troubles away.
Chapter Two
Cordelia hangs up the phone quietly and looks at Wesley who is sitting
at his desk looking decidedly ill as he reads a stack of papers his friend at
City Hall sent over.
“They’ve finished clearing out the abandoned shop and they’re on their
way back.” Cordelia glances down at the file on her desk and swallows uneasily.
“He’s going to want to know what we found out.”
Wesley closes the cover of the file he’s reading with exaggerated care,
as though it was a ticking time bomb that could go off under his hand at any
second. “I think I would rather be out of the country when he reads this.
Perhaps another dimension…”
“I think we should put them on his desk, get the hell out of here and
call in sick for a week.” Cordy says with a hopeful sound in her voice.
“Yes good plan, I like that plan.” Wesley says hurriedly gathering up
his file and following the scampering Cordelia. They don’t want to be in the
building when Angel reads the reports they’ve put together about Spike. They
hurriedly gather their things and they’re pushing through the front doors as
Angel and Gunn are coming in and breeze past him with hurried farewells.
Angel and Gunn share a look of mutual confusion, shrug and continue
inside. Angel picks up the weapons and heads for the weapons cabinet to clean
and put them away as Gunn answers his cell phone. He hangs up his phone quietly
and shoots a worried look at Angel’s back as he jogs for the stairs.
“I’ve got to get Fred, we’re going to a movie tonight and we’re going to
be late, yes very late.” And runs up the stairs while angel stares after him
and wonders why everyone is acting so nervous.
He stares bemusedly as Gunn reappears with Fred, all but carrying her
down the stairs and out through the front doors with a hasty goodbye. He
finishes cleaning the weapons and carefully stores them all away, locks the
cabinet and heads for the kitchen to heat up some dinner before heading into
his office.
He walks to the window and looks up at the moon as he sips his blood and
sighs. Such a big world out there and once upon a time he had it at his feet.
He had no troubled mind, no second guesses that constantly have him questioning
everything he does and all that he is. He was the night wind, no boundaries, no
limits, what he wanted he took, what he needed, he kept, what he could not
break, he loved, and what he loved, he hurt. He was a god among mortals; a king
among men with his deadly Grand-Childe at his side, there was no one able to
stand against them. Their relationship, for lack of a better word, had been one
of curious depths. Love and hate are entwined among their kind, the deeper they
hate, the more they love. He would never admit it out loud but there is a part
of him that misses the simplicity of that earlier time; that misses Spike. He
turns from the freedom of his memories and back to the walls of his reality as
he throws himself into his chair behind his desk, sets his now empty mug down,
picks up one of the folders piled on his desk and begins reading.
No one that walks passed the old hotel that night does so walking; as
they run and skitter away from the eerie smashing and growling sounds coming
from within. They turn their eyes away from the once majestic hotel, like
children pulling the covers over their heads to seek the magical comfort that
comes from not being able to see what scares you in the dark. When the silence
finally falls it is abrupt and complete, as though a switch has been thrown and
it is somehow all the more terrible than the noise that proceeded it.
The slowly opening front door and the powerful, dark garbed shadow that
skips out; a familiar and even comforting presence in the neighbourhood; brings
no such ease on this night. Eyes lower as he passes along the street, windows
quietly slip closed at his approach and curtains and shades wink out the light
at his appearance. Those few brave enough to look would see a man like any
other, walking down the street, his hands thrust deep into the pockets of his
jacket and his head lowered against the bitingly chill winter air. Fortunately
those brave enough, know better than to accept appearances to be as they are
shown.
A hunter has taken to the streets and tonight is a very good night to
find something pressing at home to occupy their time.
Chapter Three
Angel finds the small pub in the file easily enough and slips in through
the back door with a party of loud raucous patrons that act like they’ve
already visited one bar too many this evening. They are the perfect distraction
however, covering his entrance with their antics he makes his way to a quiet
corner booth that affords him a partial view of the stage from its concealing
shadows. A bubbly redhead bounces over to take his order with a huge smile that
couldn’t be faked by the best actresses in
“Welcome to Seamus’ Folly, I’m Nova and I’ll be your waitress this
evening. What can I get for you handsome?” Her voice is melodically mellow with
a soft Irish brogue that is surprising; given her unusual first name he was
expecting the unusual conglomeration of accents and inflections that is typical
of an American upbringing.
“What would ye be havin’ in the way of Irish whiskey lass?” Angel smiles
as the atmosphere has his long forgotten accent making a surprising
reappearance in short order.
“Ahhh well my Lad we have only the best of the best for ex-patriots like
you. Seamus takes great pride in offering only the best of genuine Irish
spirits. We’ve got pot stilled, blended, single malt, signature reserve, Seamus
has them all.” She leans forward and whispers furtively. “I hear he even has a
bottle of Middleton 1967 and a Bushmills- Artist’s Reserve still in the sherry
cask secreted away.” Angel’s eyes widen comically and Nova chuckles quietly.
“They’re a bit pricey though. He has a few bottles of a nice Bushmills 21 aged
that he got a special price on from an old friend, how about you try that? Or
there is a nice aged Tyrconnel Malt as well that Seamus is recommending to his
regulars.”
Angel slides his wallet out and pulls out his platinum visa and slides
it across the table. “How about you just start a tab for me Lass? I’ll have a
bottle of the Bushmills 21 to start, bring two glasses if you will; I expect to
be having some company in a short while.”
“A very good choice if I may say so, Sir. Would you care for anything
from the kitchen? I believe Maddie has some great stuffed mushrooms and the
blooming onion blossom is always a big hit.” Nova says sliding the card off the
table and onto her tray.
“How about you surprise me and bring a selection?” Angel offers quietly.
“Very good, Sir, I’ll get your tab started and be right back with your
Bushmills 21.” Nova hustles off to take care of the order while Angel turns his
attentions back to the stage.
Spike is smiling as he plays a lively Irish reel and Angel smiles to see
his talented Grand-Childe with a growing crowd of admirers at his feet; in much
more pleasant circumstances this time. His eyes widen briefly as he recognises
his fellow guitar playing partner as Oz. The young man has changed since he
last saw him. His usual day-glow hair colours have given way to a natural dark
auburn and his face shows a maturity that once it lacked and he’s grown a few
inches making his height roughly near Spike’s own. Angel chuckles as their
hairstyles are somewhat alike, trimmed neatly in the sides and back with the
top left a little longer. Spike still sweeps his back neatly but Oz has teased
his into gentle peaks giving him a slightly punk’ish appearance that is
somewhat reminiscent of his younger days. They’re both wearing hip hugging
leather pants, Spike in his usual basic black and Oz in dark wine red and both
are sporting simple black t-shirts sporting the name of the pub. They’re both
sporting simple and elegant black leather boots, Oz in a heavier biker style
and Spike sporting a sleeker style that resembles a cross between a cowboy and
a biker boot. He can see a wine red bolero style leather jacket, hanging on
some pegs at the rear of the stage alongside a fall of black leather which is
Spike’s duster no doubt.
Both men are sharing easy smiles and their playing is faultless, too
perfect to be anything but the product of a familiarity playing with each
other. He is fascinated, wondering how the two came to meet and apparently form
what appears to be a close friendship judging by their comfortable camaraderie.
A flash of movement by the bar catches his eye and he glances over at a pretty
blond talking animatedly to a distinguished looking older man. Angel looks
closer, his brow furrowing as he searches his memory for where he’s seen the
man before as he seems very familiar for some reason. He’s so engrossed in
staring that he doesn’t notice Nova returning with a tray laden with two
glasses a full bottle of Irish whiskey and what appears to be an army of small
trays holding finger foods.
“Word of advice, from one countryman to another…whichever of them you’re
interested in, you’d have to get through two of the toughest sons of a bitch
I’ve ever met.” Nova says pleasantly, her smile doesn’t dim a watt but her
message of not so subtle warning is nonetheless succinctly delivered. She rips
off the seal from the top of the bottle and opens it easily with a few brusque
motions and pours a heaping glassful and sliding it over to him along with his
platinum card. “Your card is on record, just let me know when you’re ready for
the total.” Nova smiles and moves away with no outward sign of hostility but
Angel noticed her eyes had hardened somewhat.
*Well this bar just keeps getting more and more interesting.* Angel
thinks returning his gaze to the stage. *What are you up to my Lad?* Angel
wonders as he watches Spike entertaining the appreciative crowd.
When the talented pair end their current set with a flourish, Angel
claps as loudly as the rest of crowd, genuinely enthusiastic about their
wonderful performance. The clapping quiets as Spike swings his guitar to his
back holding it there with a gentle hand and steps up to the microphone.
“We’d like to play a special song for you now, and dedicate it to those
of you that don’t believe in magic, or miracles…” An enigmatic smile crosses
his lips and his eyes twinkle mysteriously. “…Or Angels.”
Spike swings his guitar back around and nods to Oz as he picks up the
chords and he falls into chorus with practiced ease. Both men lean closer to
their microphones as Spike begins to softly sing and Oz falls in on the harmony
vocals.
If only you believe like I believe, baby, like
I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
If only you believe like I believe,
baby, like I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
Spike flicks his eyes over the crowd, seeking the deeper shadows,
knowing that he’ll find familiar brown eyes staring back at him and locks his
gaze unerringly into his Grand-Sire’s eyes. He sees Angel’s lips twitch up into
a smile and knows that his message has been received and they both know that in
that moment this bar is empty but for this binary pair.
I might have to move heaven and earth to prove
it to you, baby (Baby)
Angel’s eyes widen as Spike’s cerulean blue eyes deepen and darken to a
vivid electric blue. He shudders as a warm tingle dances up his back him as
though a soft hand were being run slowly up his spine. He stares enraptured
into those flashing lightning blue eyes as they pulse with emotion as Spike
wields his formidable charisma like a surgeon with a scalpel, cutting through
his iron curtain of composure.
So we're making love, and you feel the power
and I feel the power
Then there's really nothing we can't
do
(You know we could, you know we
could)
If we wanted to baby
(You know we could, you know we
could)
We could exist on the stars, it'd be
so easy
(Oh, baby)
All we got to do is get a little
faith in you.
Nothing he has ever known moves like Spike, there is nothing about him
that is still, quiescent or complacent. The very air around him seems to be in
perpetual motion as it writhes and coils around him, as though fighting to get
just that one atom closer to the perfection of that leather painted temptation.
He can’t believe he could have forgotten this feeling; this total, utter, and
complete understanding of what it is to feel like you are the sum of the universe.
Only Spike has ever had this uncanny ability to slip passed every defence, to
lick along his every nerve until all that is left is the instinctual need to
fight or mate. There is never a middle ground with Spike, you surrender all
that you are willingly or he will take every last bit of who and what you are
and in the end you’ll want him to. He has seen it time and again, women and men
alike all walking blindly to their destruction in his arms for just a taste of
the rapture promised in those devil’s eyes. Rapture it was indeed; as their
inhibitions drained away in the silken flash of ivory fangs, bodies thrusting
to the pulsing of their life draining away to feed the means of their death.
The faith of the damned has ever been absolute as one and all; sinner and
saint, pious and heretic; they came to his dark embrace and were lost.
As Angelus he once rejoiced in the preternatural skills wielder by his Childer.
The obsessive single-minded fixations that drove Penn to greater and greater
acts of sheer bloodlust as to almost be his equal delighted him. The childlike
mercilessness of Drusilla, who could nurture or kill with equal alacrity; with
all the innocent menace of a child ripping a head off their doll in a fit of
anger because they knew no other way to express themselves. Oh the wonders of
breaking her and transforming her into the ultimate perversion, a Vampire with
the innocence of an eternal child with a woman’s ripe body. Her visions were
her gift but death was her religion and oh how she worshipped at the altar of
blood, she grew all too adept at drawing. Then to their proud family came the
anarchy that is William; the seductive changeling that masqueraded as the mouse
among the lions. He challenged him from the first and made him question what it
was to be a Vampire, to be a monster, to be a god among the cattle.
If only you believe like I believe, baby, like
I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
If only you believe like I believe,
baby, like I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
Of all of them William was the closest to his humanity and perhaps it
was that very humanity that soon instilled deeper needs. The desire to break
that proud will; twisting and coiling in upon itself to become a driving
obsession to tame him to his side. What little was decent in him, that would
not be broken of that lingering tenderness, were poured into the boy. That wild
spirit that could not be broken, that could not be taken, was in the end given
freely to him for what pain could not accomplish, love swiftly delivered. He
knows how much that would shock and astound the historians that have always
painted Spike as a mindless lover of violence, a destructive mantra on the
level of
Baby, baby
Love is a magic word few every find
in a lifetime
But from that very first look in
your eyes I see you and I have but one heart
Only our bodies were apart (It's
making me crazy)
That was so easy, so easy
Angel forces his muscles to freeze, to still his instinctive rush to
sweep Spike off the stage and into the night. He knows the dark truth that
lives in him and sees the answering shadows in those lightning orbs, calling to
him with their siren’s call, the realisation in the changing hues of blue that
no poet could have ever done justice in mere words. He hears the call that is
not vocalised, the words that whisper silently along nerve endings that are
never spoken yet all too keenly heard by that which has longed to hear the
silent aria. I was made for you. I am made of you. Come and claim me; I am the
sheathe to your sword, the arrow to your bow, the shield upon your arm that
guards your life. I am not a man as I am not a Demon, I am not an enemy as I am
not an ally, and I am your fate as I am your Mate. So sweet and insidious for
all their intent those silent words are a seductive song to the parts of him
that have been kept in silence for so long.
If only you believe like I believe, baby, like
I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
If only you believe like I believe,
baby, like I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
He could have told William that life was never meant for one as
beautiful as he, spoken of how jealously it would have kept him caged in the
weakness of his flesh. Life is an obsessive lover, it takes everything from
those it favours; the most beautiful of its blessings left to age and wither
under its merciless march until even the loveliest of its works of art became
twisted mockeries of the magnificence of their youth. When Drusilla stole
life’s greatest work of art from under its very heavy hand and in death had
placed it forever in the blush of that youth, she had sealed his fate. Life had
never released its jealous hold on William and it clings tightly still making
him something unique among their kind and compelling in that singularity.
William is life in a shell of death and that which would defy all the
labels that could be stuck on him but one. MINE. Angel the Man and Angelus the
Demon and William the Life held forever in the embrace of Death. No lover of
months or the passing of decades or the fleeting speeding of the years, no
William is the Mate of Eternity. He is the sleeper that has awakened from a
dream only to find that in his slumber his dreams had become reality and that
it no longer mattered whether he was awake or dreaming. Is he the dreamer,
asleep and dreaming that he is sleeping or is he the dreamer that is dreaming
that he is awake? It makes no difference in the end of things, the how you came
to be where you are, what matters is the arrival. Spike has finished the
journey William was set to walk, the childe grown to man, the masterpiece with
its layers of paint now dried and set.
I can hear windmills and rainbows whenever you
talkin' to me (Never say never)
I feel like swirling and dancing
whenever you're walkin' with me
You ripple like a river when I touch
you (Let me touch you)
When I pluck your body like a string
(Show you what I mean)
I picked up your vibes, you know
(I'm having a fine time)
It opened my mind, but I'm still
dreaming
Yeah…And you're right where I found
you,
With my arms around you (Oh, baby)
Angel wonders if Spike is even truly conscious of what depth of import
his voice conveys, the sunken rhythms of an ancient dance that his body
telegraphs to he that was born to answer it. For over a century he has waited
to feel that message, no one could know the depths of his machinations. He may
have a soul but that has never made any man a Saint. It was no Saint that made
the anonymous call to the Watchers Council in
How pleased he had been to see his boy, looking every inch the
arrogantly powerful Master Vampire, hard and chiselled to razor sharpness where
he had once been soft and rounded. It took every ounce of strength he had not
to claim him there and then but his dogged fixation on the simpering Drusilla
helped him to marshal the deep anger he needed to maintain his patience. How he
agonised to see his boy broken and trapped by the confines of a wheelchair but
how great his pride that even so confined he maintained his innate formidable
presence. He may have been injured but he was never crippled, never broken. He
silently crowed as Spike unwittingly responded to his relationship with Buffy as
a jealous suitor, with taunts about his weakness for a pathetic human Slayer.
Oh how he wanted to laugh at the thought. She was a means to an end and for all
his regard for her; she would never have been the Mate he knew he needed. No he
has always known that the blond siren that fate had intended for that role was
someone very different.
He made only one miscalculation in his plans and that is underestimating
just how strong Spike truly was and just how unsure of his place in his life.
If Spike had any true conception of his place, he would not have cried at the
ease of Drusilla’s betrayal. He is ashamed of the loss of control that caused
him to strike out at Spike and led to the mad plan to send the world to Hell.
He had forgotten how jealousy life clung to its once favoured son, how
stubbornly his heart would cling to the familiarity of routine. Habit told him
that he should care about Drusilla; he’d had a century’s worth of time to
getting use to being the sum of her universe. Naturally he would react violently
to her loss, not realising that he would receive so much more in that loss. He
supposed being sent to hell was punishment enough for his lack of foresight and
consideration for his boy. He could have had him at his side, the world at his
feet, without the distraction of the roles their natures dictated. Instead he
is relegated to Hell while Drusilla made off with his prize.
How he crowed to find it availed her not, that she in her foolishness
could not see the treasure so close at hand. She spat upon it and sent it once
more back to him and how he laughed in the quietness of his thoughts to know
that she would never have him now. All the tortures he could devise would no
more return her heart to him than a spell would have, for he could never see that
the regard was never there to begin with.
Drusilla’s sanity was never steady as a human and whatever stability
remained he had long ago stripped away. She was his Sire; she possessed him as
she did one of her fine dolls, her nature was to mould him to be an accessory.
She dressed him up and played with him and perhaps she even in her own way did
have some regard for him but in the end he would meet the same fate as every
child’s doll. He would be abandoned as new toys came along and the next bright
and shiny bit of glittery floss that would catch her mercurial attention. He
knew that Spike would never be broken. He overcame every obstacle, surpassed
every challenge, placed before him but for the last great chasm; where only
faith could see him safely to the other side. It was a challenge that he had
despaired of ever seeing his boy complete, for to do so would be to turn his
back on everything he had strived to make him. For to be his true Mate, is to
be a Vampire living among humans, according to their laws and customs and
harder still their infantile sensibilities. William had as little regard for
humanity as humanity has for their cattle and their corn; little more than the
necessities that sustain their existence.
I can hear windmills and rainbows whenever you
talkin' to me (Never say never)
I feel like swirling and dancing
whenever you're walkin' with me
You ripple like a river when I touch
you (Let me touch you)
When I pluck your body like a string
(Show you what I mean)
I picked up your vibes, you know
(I'm having a fine time)
It opened my mind, but I'm still
dreaming
Yeah And you're right where I found
you,
With my arms around you (Oh, baby)
Angel stares at the sight he had despaired to ever see within a dozen
lifetimes. His wild, beautiful boy, at long last he is vibrant and glowing in
the true strength that only he has ever had. He has reached beyond what nature,
what environment would have him be. He is a Vampire choosing to live a Human’s
life and he wonders briefly how Spike could find the strength to be what he
could only achieve with the burden of a soul. Oh yes he believes in miracles
and he will have this singing, siren of a miracle for his own. How shocked
would they all be he wonders if they knew that when it comes to Spike, the line
between Angelus and Angel is nonexistent? No every part of him loves this
beautiful boy and now at long last has it come to pass that he is awakening to
the same knowledge? Could Spike know that he is meant to be his Mate? That
lithe, feline body murmurs its yes with every silken slide of his skin over
those steel sculpted muscles. Those Devil’s eyes whisper of dark knowledge, of
stolen pleasures and captured promises gasped in moments of release; beating
their yes with every fluttering of those butterfly lashes.
If only you believe like I believe, baby, like
I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
If only you believe like I believe,
baby, like I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
Angel considers what to do and decides that he has done enough to call
this dance of theirs. He will let Spike lead them to the crescendo of the
soundtrack they belong long ago. He settles back and relaxes, losing himself in
the beautiful song and the compelling lure of its sub-context. He finds himself
liking this place, it reminds him of the past but not so tightly that it will
keep him from enjoying the present. He tosses back his whiskey with a flick of
his wrist, enjoying the warm burn of its journey down his throat. Ahhh a damn
sight finer than that rotgut they were serving at that damn strip club…
Angel’s eyes suddenly narrow and glint dangerously at the memory of
Spike’s other talents all too prominently displayed at his other job. He can’t
believe he’d gotten so caught up in the past and its implications for the
present that he’d forgotten! Something will have to be done about Lindsey and
his interest in Spike not to mention that damned job of his boy’s that no doubt
only feeds his obsession. Not that part of him didn’t enjoy watching Spike
dance, the power his boy wields is immense and all the more insidious for the
skill with which he can wield it if he chooses to. The thrill of seeing that
ultimate tease will linger in his dreams and play out in his shower for months.
He alone knows the pleasures of that perfect body; he doesn’t have to wonder if
Spike has ever given himself to another, he knows that what passed between them
can never be repeated with another. He knows that truth for it has been a truth
for him as well, one he has never betrayed. He smirks as he imagines the shock
and dismay on Buffy’s face if she should ever find out that their lone sexual
encounter was born of his frustration at not having his boy under him. That it
was another slender blond that writhed beneath him in his mind, that it was the
ecstasy of that moment, at the image of being with his boy once more that sent
his soul into flight, not her.
*Perhaps best she never finds that out Liam ole boy.* Angel thinks with
a snicker but the chuckle dies a quick death as the haunting blue eyes staring
into his flare amber briefly and heat courses up his spine as he feels a
nameless emotion dance across his nerve endings. He shudders and presses back
against the leather upholstery and gasps as his eyes slide shut uncontrollably
as his hips thrust up sharply. His eyes snap open as he sags, spent and addled,
more than a little confused by what just happened but too damned relaxed in his
release to actually care. In that moment of quiet the invisible hand dances
slowly up from his lap, drifting over pouting nipples still softening, to
linger in the hollow his throat before settling at his nape.
Angel stares at Spike as he smiles in a way he has never seen before,
with a gentleness that is lacking in his usual mocking smirks. No this is a
smile, a genuine smile of prideful affection and regard and dare he imagine it…love?
He stares in wonder as it seems the Student has more than a few lessons to
teach the Teacher.
If only you believe like I believe, baby, like
I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
If only you believe like I believe,
baby, like I believe, we'd get by
If only you believe in miracles, so
would I
Spike lets his voice trail off to quiet humming as he and Oz strum the
final chords of the song. He locks eyes once more with Angel and he can’t help
but chuckle silently at the glaze still dulling those whiskey brown orbs. *Poor
Angel thinks he calls the tune we dance to but this is my song. Time to learn
who the Maestro is here Pet. It’s time to learn a new dance with the last
partner you’ll ever have ‘Sire’.* Spike thinks with a warm glow tugging at his
belly as the song ends their last set of the evening.
He sets his guitar carefully into its case as the crowd showers them
with appreciative applause. He holds his hand out for Oz’s guitar and smiles as
his friend doesn’t hesitate to hand over his baby to his care. He carefully
stows it into Oz’s case, as the younger man retrieves the not ungenerous tips
that are stuffing the brandy snifter they place unobtrusively on a small table
beside the stage.
Oz leans closer and whispers softly. “Angel is here?” He asks tapping
the side of his nose nonchalantly.
Spike nods as casually. “Over in the back booth. I’m going to go talk to
him.” He says standing and stopping to put a hand on Oz’s shoulder. “You were
in rare form tonight, it was a great show. I’m going to miss you when you’re
rich and famous.”
Oz ducks his head and socks him on the shoulder lightly. “No you won’t,
I’m packing you all into my luggage and taking you with me.” He leans closer
and whispers conspiratorially. “We’re going to need a special trunk for Angel
and his hair though.” The pair shares a wicked chuckle as Spike hops off the
stage, navigating around the grasping hands and eager fans with polite smiles
and agile dodges.
He slides his hand into the front
pocket of his leathers and leans against the pillar that butts up against the
free seat of the booth Angel has commandeered as skilfully as any general on a
battlefield. Spike grins to see the array of snacks, licking his lips at the
mouth-watering battered temptation that is his favourite snack. He can’t help
himself and reaches out and snaps off one of the onion blossom’s leaves and
nibbles on it with an expression that could well be obscene if taken out of
context.
“So do you?”
Spike raises his brow in silent question to Angel’s huskily murmured
question. “Well Mate that’s a question that is open to a world of
contemplation. I ‘do’ a lot of things.”
Angel quirks his own brow back in a mirror of his expression. “Do you
believe in miracles?”
Spike’s brow lowers as he drops his lashes and peeks flirtingly beneath
them. “I believe in Angels, what’s a miracle next to that?” He rolls his hips
and slides with an agile slither onto the booth seat, lifting his feet and
bracing his booted feet on either side of Angel’s relaxed form. “Hello Liam”
Feigning the ease of old friends meeting at the corner bar for a drink.
Angel reaches out and pours whiskey into both glasses, sliding one
across the table to nudge Spike’s hand. “Hello Wil.” Angel smiles and takes a
sip of his whiskey. He can do the old friends meeting at the corner bar for a
drink routine.
Spike picks up the glass and takes a sip and lets the fiery libation sit
on his tongue as he slowly rolls it around for a few moments before he
swallows. “Excellent whiskey, still have a taste for the finer things in life I
see.” He breaks off another petal of the onion blossom and nibbles it slowly
relishing the taste.
Angel swallows hard and watches Spike obvious carnal enjoyment of the
array of treats spread out before him but his eyes never leave him, watching
him fixedly. “Only the best has ever been enough for me, you know how that
goes. I haven’t really changed all
that much have I?” He murmurs quietly.
“You mean besides the hair right?” Spike asks with a twinkle of humour
in his eyes. “Oh yeah and the clothes.” He chuckles quietly. “And let’s not
forget that bright and shiny soul of yours.” Spike drops his eyelids and peeks
up from beneath his thick lashes. “No Mate you haven’t changed much at all.”
Spike glances over at the bar and sees that his friends are gathered at the bar
talking quietly as they keep an eye on him. He smiles softly, warmed by their
concern.
“I’ve changed about as much as you have.” Angel growls back. “Care to
explain?” Angel doesn’t bother to elaborate, knowing that Spike knows exactly
what he’s referring to. “You never call, you never write, no more happy little
visits to torture me for a damned ring. I’m starting to wonder if you still
care.”
“Over four years and you’re still walking around without a hair out of
place and that isn’t an answer enough to that question?” Spike says softly. He
tips his glass toward Angel, who obligingly refills it. “After that bloody
cluster-fuck over the Ring I went back to Sunnydale looking to bag Buffy’s head
and send it to you as a personal thank you for denying me the sunlight.”
He throws up his hand. “Don’t worry I didn’t get the chance to do
anything but get my ass handed back to me by some fat Human Momma’s boys. Some
weird bunch of scientific tosser types backed up by some G.I. Joe wannabe
wankers. Shot me with some blasted toy that felt like I’d stuck my tongue in a
light socket, knocked me cold. I woke up as a rat in their maze and another
Demon there explained that they called themselves the Initiative and they
experimented on Demon types. I’m not going to tell you some of the things they
did, it’d give even you nightmares. On his worst days Angelus was never so
inhuman or inhumane.”
“Gods.” Angel breathes looking sick to his stomach, something that is
actually quite the accomplishment for a Vampire and the infamous Angelus in
particular.
“I managed to escape thanks to some lucky quirk of chance and made my
way out. I’d planned to take out your little Slayer slut and get the hell out
of town for parts unknown. I didn’t find the Slayer but did find her little
Witch friend and was about to have her for a snack, when I found out I hadn’t
really escaped the maze at all. They put a little parting gift into my brain it
seems. I can’t feed or injury anything Human, not even accidentally or in
self-defence without getting my nerves fried. The pain is unimaginable and
unrelenting and it seems the more violent my thoughts or actions the worse it
gets.”
Angel is scowling darkly and Spike is gratified to know that he’s angry
about what the Humans have done to him. “They left you to starve?! How are you
supposed to feed? Wait how are you
feeding?”
“I have some very good friends that take good care of my Childe and I in
exchange for our looking out for them in return.” Spike says quietly. He looks
over his shoulder and catches Harmony’s eyes and nods imperceptibly, smiling as
she nods and the gestures and three start walking towards them.
Angel is clearly shocked. “You have a Childe? You never sire Childer,
always said they were too much trouble and you didn’t want the responsibility.”
“I didn’t sire her myself, the fool responsible for that is long dusted.
She was newly fledged and didn’t have a bloody clue how to be a Vampire. I
suspect her Sire was barely more than newly fledged when he sired her but
fortunately he created her well. She’s very strong for her age and she is a
Childe not just a minion. She asked me if I would foster her and I agreed. I’m
very proud of her; I think you will be too.” Spike says smiling, as Harmony,
Oz, and Ethan arrive at the table.
Spike drops his feet from the seat and slides around the half-moon
shaped booth until his shoulder presses against Angel’s as his friends slide in
after him until they’re all sharing the intimate space. “You’ve already met
Oz.” The young man smiles and nods a brief hello. Angel almost laughs as the
quietly observant young man is little changed from the youth he knew in
Sunnydale.
“It’s nice to see you again Oz. You’re still very talented, I enjoyed
the music.” Angel says with a genuine smile.
“It’s nice to see you again too.” The quiet young man replies.
“This is my good friend Ethan Rayne; I believe you may have met him
before also?” Spike says quietly, as Ethan extends his hand out and shakes
hands with Angel.
“Umm yes, though we weren’t introduced at the time.” Angel says clearly
surprised as he finally makes the connection between the man’s face and his
name.
“Yes well it didn’t seem very prudent to hang around there.” Ethan says
with a self-effacing shrug.
“Having a Demon determined to rip you to shreds often makes a great
excuse for the tactical retreat.” Angel says with a wry grin as Ethan ducks his
head and nods, embarrassed by his less than stellar past deeds. Angel finds
himself reaching across the table and patting his hand in silent comfort. “I
tried to send the world to a Hell dimension, I’m the last person who can cast stones as to their past.”
Ethan lifts his head, a shy smile and a nod showing that he feels a
little better about Angel knowing who he is and some of the things that he’s
done and is still okay with him being there.
Spike wraps an arm around Harmony’s shoulders and pulls her close in a
tight hug that she gratefully melts into, appreciating the feelings of love,
pride, and support thrumming through the link that ties them together. “This
beauty is my Childe, Harmony Kendall. I ask that the Sire of my Sire, the head
of our order accept her as blood of my blood.” Spike says formally. “Isn’t she
bloody marvellous?” And formality flies right out the window.
Angel shakes his head in exasperated affection for his hyper Grand-Childe
and holds his hand out. Spike takes Harmony’s hand and places it palm up in
Angel’s hand, keeping his hand on her palm, fingers stroking softly, letting
her know she is safe and protected. Angel leans forward slowly, his face
morphing as his fangs drop and he bites tenderly into Harmony’s wrist. He sips
gently, swallowing a couple of mouthfuls before withdrawing his fangs and
licking the wound until it closes and heals over.
“She is very strong, you were right Childe.” Angel says pleased. He
reverses their hands until Harmony is now holding his hand and Spike leans over
and whispers in her ear. There are tears and smiles as she leans over and feeds
from his wrist, trying to be as gently reverent as he was.
“I, Angelus, primogenitor of the Aurelius order, do recognise you, Harmony
Kendall, as blood of my blood, Childe of William Bradley, William the Bloody,
Aurelius Master.” Angel says formally, leaning past Spike to press a kiss to
Harmony’s temple. “Welcome Childe.”
Spike looks on with almost paternal pride as Harmony dives at Oz and
wraps herself around him as she cries happy tears and laughs, overflowing with
the knowledge that Angel and hence Spike’s family has accepted her. She didn’t
want to let on how afraid she was of being rejected but then she calls herself
silly for not knowing that her best friends knew that she was all along and
just loved her all the more in compensation.
Angel leans over to whisper in Spike’s ear. “Oz and Harmony are
together?!” He asks in surprise, figuring Oz would always carry a torch for Willow.
When he stops and thinks about it for a moment, he realises that the young
musician has far more in common with Harmony than he does Willow. They’re both
moved by forces beyond their control, Oz driven by the Wolf inside him and
Harmony by her Demon.
Spike leans over and turns to press his lips against Angel’s ear and
breathes the words so softly that not even Harmony right next to them could
eavesdrop on their conversation. “They’ve been together for a few years now. I
suspect they’ll be asking me for my consent to allow their mating any day now.
They’ve been practically inseparable and have shared a room in our flat for
years now. They’re good for each other. She helps him to understand and embrace
his animalistic nature and he has been helping her to embrace the humanity that
lingers in her still.” Spike’s pride is clear in his voice.
Angel shivers at the caress from Spike’s breath against his sensitive
ear and finds himself letting his head tilt to rest his temple against the
younger Vampire’s and sighs. Nova their waitress has returned and is leaning
against a post flirting with a flattered Ethan as Oz and Harmony cuddle and
talk softly between exchanging soft kisses and tender caresses. He marvels over
how benign Harmony is. It usually takes a Childe a century or more to gain that
amount of mastery over their Demon.
“She seems so very…Human.” He breathes in wonder.
“She is very much like a child; her Demon is mild though far from tamed.
She is as vicious a killer as there has ever been when she is protecting
someone she feels is hers but she isn’t an indiscriminate hunter. Oz and Ethan
both draw blood regularly and we have a connection at one of the local blood
banks that gets us bags of rejected donations to augment it and we’re well fed.
We don’t hunt for food any longer and a well-fed Demon is a placid Demon as you
know.” His dark eyebrow twitches up in silent contemplation, as he ponders what
makes Harmony so different from other Vampires. “I’ve just done for her what
this chip has done for me, she has a choice now. She doesn’t need to hunt to
survive and she doesn’t have to kill to secure her place. She is happy and well
cared for by her lover and Ethan and I and she hasn’t wanted for anything nor
will she. She has the luxury of being Human with all its frailties. In the time
that spawned us, that wasn’t an option, we lived in violent times when the
strong survived and the weaker were prey. She’s luckier than were. She doesn’t
have a past swimming in blood or memories that return in our nightmares.” Spike
grimaces. “I…I didn’t realise how much I missed being part of a family until we
found ourselves banding together. It’s funny innit…how you can be so lonely and
never realise it until you aren’t lonely anymore?” Spike says softly.
Angel sighs, leans more heavily against Spike’s side and lets his eyes
drift closed as he absorbs the feel of the younger Vampire against him after so
long. “Yes, it’s funny how that can happen.” He agrees softly. “I guess
sometimes you never know what you’ve been missing until you get it back.” He
inhales deeply, drawing Spike’s intoxicating scent deep into his lungs and
locking it there.
“Tell me about Darla and Dru.”
Angel stiffens and starts to lever himself away when an arm closes
around his shoulders keeping him pressed against the strength and comfort of
the younger Vampire. After a moment he relaxes and lets his eyes slip closed.
Spike strokes his hair and rubs his back soothingly as he chokes his way
through his personal tale of woe. He whispers about Darla’s miraculous
resurrection by Wolfram & Hart and their plans to bring back Angelus that
came so close to actually working. He recounts Darla’s pleas to be a Vampire
once more and his stalwart denials that saw Drusilla playing Sire in his stead.
It all comes pouring out in the safety of Spike’s embrace. Lindsey’s part in
the whole thing, their vague threats about a ‘prophecy child’, and ending in a
fiery conflagration that finally ended the lives of his one time Sire and his
Childe.
He tapers off and waits for Spike to rip his head off or reach into his
chest and rip out his dead heart but what does happen is more shocking than
anything he could have foreseen. He feels soft lips pressing a gentle kiss to
his temple and an arm that draws him closer, as his hands are covered by
tender, compassionate hands. His eyes pop open and he stares in wonder. Ethan
has reached across the table to rest his hand over one of his, as Oz and
Harmony have done with his other hand, and Spike is holding him tightly and
purring soothingly. His mouth drops open in wonder at the looks of
understanding and acceptance on all of their faces and some deeper, unnamed
emotion that radiates from Spike.
“I felt Drusilla’s final death, it’s what drew me here after the soldier
boys did their little hack and slash job on my grey matter.” Spike says
quietly, murmuring quiet words of comfort as Angel winces and stiffens up.
After a few moments he relaxes again and Spike continues. “I’m not going to lie
and say I wasn’t livid and for a while, the thought of ripping your heart out
then your head was all I could think about. I even went to that Hotel of yours
to do it but when I got there and I saw you, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
I didn’t want to kill you.”
Angel looks shocked at that. “How could you not want to kill me? I
killed your Sire, my Childe, my own twice,
I was there when Penn got staked and I didn’t help him! How can you not hate
me?! I’m an abomination to Vampires everywhere!” Angel just can’t understand
why Spike doesn’t hate him, when he can hardly stand himself for what he’s
done! “I tried to kill you how many times?!”
“We both know that if you had really wanted that than I would have been
dust a long time ago, I gave you more than enough reason to want that. We both
know if we had wanted it bad enough we’d have succeeded, likely both died in
the doing but we would have done it. If we had really wanted to that is.” Spike
says matter-of-factly and Angel knows that he’s right.
Despite their troubled and dysfunctional relationship, he never really
ever considered staking Spike or Drusilla for that matter. He had in fact
stepped in to protect them as best that he could with his loyalties divided as
they were between Buffy and his Childer.
“You know you didn’t have a
choice about Dru, Angelus. If anyone knew just how barmy she could be it has to
be me Mate. She was trying to let Angelus loose for fuck’s sake, how sane was that? She wouldn’t have stood
by and let you kill Darla, whatever else she may have been Dru did try in her own
twisted way to take care of her Childer. You had to take them both; you
couldn’t have Angelus being let loose. If it helps at all, I think Dru knew how
things may go, I found out after she was gone that she had tried to find me;
left several messages that she wanted to see me, to settle things between us. I
didn’t make it in time but from what I felt at her passing, I think she was
glad to be free at last.”
“It helps, thank you Spike.” Angel means every word and almost laughs
out loud at the feeling of relief and frankly just because he FEELS like it. He looks at the others
and marvels at how open they are towards him and his brow furrows in confusion.
Spike sees the gesture and correctly identifies the cause for it and he almost
turns to yank Angel into a tight hug. It’s so sad that he doesn’t recognise
real friendship and acceptance when he sees it.
“You were expecting us to what…hit you…or worse run off screaming in
terror at the possibility of Angelus being free?” Spike chuckles and shakes his
head in amazement. “You don’t think Angelus scares
us do you? We rather enjoy our lives and/or undead status respectively, not to
mention having our spines inside our
bodies where they belong, but we’re not scared of Angelus, we respect him.
There is a difference you know? Everyone at this table, the beautiful Nova
aside…” Spike smiles at the beaming Nova. “…Has our own Demons to bear. We know
who and what we are, how can we turn from you for being what we ourselves are?”
“I was host to a Chaos Demon for a very long time and though he lingers
with me still, Spike and the others have shown me how to live with him, if not
in peace at least in harmony.” Ethan says quietly.
“I have an animal inside me as violent and bloodthirsty as any Demon
could be. I fought it for a long time, tried to find a way to leash it or beat
it down into submission. Ethan and Spike taught me how to embrace it, accept it
as part of who I am and how to live with it. My Harmony taught me how to love
it, to use it like a gift to help others. I am whole now and I among good
company that never looks down on me and just understand and accept me for me.”
Oz says in a low growling voice, his eyes briefly flashing with a feral glow in
the low lighting, betraying just how close to the surface his Wolf is. Angel
marvels at the young man, swearing that his little speech just may be the most
he’s ever heard him say at one time.
“Of course you know of the struggle Harmony and I go through because you
share it.” Spike says softly. “None of us ever fit in anywhere; we’re all
outcasts for whichever reasons brought us together. Ethan, Oz, Harmony, myself,
even you Angel, we were all on the outside looking in, the pieces that never
quite fit in the pretty picture puzzle of humanity. We’re all considered evil by
some, damned and cursed by others but do you know what we’ve discovered these
past few years as friends? We may not be ‘human’ but that doesn’t mean we can’t
learn to be humane. You risk your life to protect humans by killing Demons and
so do we.” Angel looks shocked at that. “We don’t ignore the fact however that
humanity even with souls can perpetrate atrocities beyond any Demon’s
machinations. Adolph Hitler, Jim Jones, Saddam Hussein, they were all human and monsters every single one. We
don’t care what form innocence takes, Human or Demon, we will do our best to
fight for them all.”
“Why would you do that?” Angel asks clearly shocked and shaken by the
revelation Spike has revealed.
Spike, Harmony, Oz, and Ethan all share a glance then turn to look at
Angel and say in unison. “Because we can
Angel.”
“Who is more suited to it than we are?” Harmony asks proudly.
“Everyone needs something to fight for, a cause to rally around. Some
find that cause in religion and in their trust of the higher powers. We find
our cause in the fight itself and our trust is in each other. We don’t expect
to save the world or avert the yearly apocalypse in a war Humanity doesn’t even
know is being fought. We don’t expect the spotlight and the ticker tape parades
or to have our faces on stamps or t-shirts. We just do what we can, where we
can.” Ethan says brightly, he’s proud of what he’s been able to accomplish with
his friends backing him up. It doesn’t make up for what he’s done in the past,
he knows that, but this isn’t the past, he’s working towards a future.
“The little guys need help too.” Oz says simply. Angel almost smiles;
that’s much more like the quiet young man he’s used to.
“Harmony’s right, so are Ethan and Oz. None of us choose to live according to our natures. I may have this bloody
chip in my head but it wouldn’t stop me from masterminding who knows what kind
of plots if I wanted to. I can still hurt Demons, I’m strong and I could hold
followers if I chose to, but my family have shown me a different way. I can
still be a Vampire, still relish a decent spot of violence and laugh in the
mayhem I cause. I just channel it into more constructive pursuits rather than
destructive.”
“You sound happy.” Angel says in amazement and wonder, staring at Spike.
“What you expected me to be all mopey and broody or something?” Spike
asks with a smirk. “No offence Peaches, but the tortured bit really isn’t my
style you know, more the man of action type.”
“He leaps off tall buildings in a single bound…” Harmony says with a giggle.
“He’s faster than a speeding bullet…when he’s sober…” Oz says with a
grin.
“He’s not a bird or a plane…but he has a nice tail…” Ethan says with a
saucy wink.
“He’s Super-Spike…minus the poncy tights and poofy uniform.” The three
say in unison and everyone roars with laughter while Spike curses at them in
fake ire but with a huge smile on his face.
“I’d hate to break up the love-fest kittens, but those of you with that
nasty allergy to the sun; it’ll be up in about half an hour.” Nova says with a
gentle almost maternal smile at the people around the table, including one for
Angel that has him smiling back shyly.
They all look startled, not realising how fast time has flown and then
laugh at the identical expressions of surprise on each other’s faces. Angel and
Ethan slide out of the booth to let Spike, Harmony, and Oz out to gather their
things and they’re back at the table within ten minutes.
Spike glances at Angel. “You won’t make it back to your place by
sunrise, you’d best come home with us. You can stay at our place for the day
and I’ll drop you by your place tonight?” He asks feeling strangely shy. “You
can share with me or sleep on the couch…whatever suits you.”
“Uh yeah that’d be great, if you’re sure you wouldn’t mind?” Angel says
feeling a little shy himself.
The four friends smile and he finds himself bundled up in the middle of
their group being herded for the door like he’s part of their family. For just
a little while he’s going to let himself pretend that he is. So it came to be that
he watches as Ethan and Spike do a very scary impression of Ward Cleaver and
see to it that Harmony and Oz are safely tucked in for the night. He’s more
amazed still as Spike tenderly bullies Ethan to his own bed, sitting beside him
on the bed for a few moments quietly talking before stroking his hair gently
and saying goodnight and herding Angel out of his room and closing the door
after them.
Upon reflection, he’s not sure why he’s surprised at Spike’s behaviour;
he saw how tender and nurturing he was towards Dru and even towards himself
when he was injured back in the day. He is startled as he feels Spike take his
hand and pull him down the hall to his own room, closing the door after them.
He looks around in astonishment. “This looks just like…”
“The room I had in Tuscany I know. Ethan did it for me, it’s handy to
have a friend that’s good with the mojo at times. He asked me what I wanted it
to look like and I described it and next thing I know.” He gestures around the
room proudly. “You can stay here with me today if you like, or I can help you
make a bed on the couch if you’d rather?” Spike concentrates and changing out
of his clothes, not wanting to reveal how nervous he is about Angel being not
only in his home, but in his own bedroom sanctuary. Unashamed of his nudity he
stands proudly for a moment, tilting his head questioningly.
Angel slowly starts to remove his clothing. “Here is fine Spike. Not
like we’re new to sleeping together is it?” He says with a nervous bit of
laughter. Spike holds out his hand and takes his clothes hanging them up neatly
beside his own in a strange slender wooden cabinet.
“It’s another example of Ethan’s handiwork.” Spike says with a shrug.
“He cast an enchantment on it, by the time we wake up, everything will be clean,
mended; if it needed to be, and freshly pressed and ready to wear. It even
cleans and polishes boots.” Spike sets their footwear inside on a shelf under
their neatly hung clothes and closes the door and presses in a lion’s head
carving and turns it ninety degrees. The cabinet glows briefly, gradually
fading to normalcy.
“That’s amazing; he could make a fortune if he could market that.” Angel
says in amazement. “He did the enchantment that conceals this place too right?”
Spike nods and pads silently across the room to a sturdy but elegant
wardrobe and pulls out a drawer and lifts out a neatly folded parcel. “Would
you like something to sleep in?” He asks extending the neat square of fabric
towards him.
Angel almost says yes, having gotten into the habit of wearing at least
a pair of boxers, even in the privacy of his slumber as a concession to his
Human friends. It’s only in watching how Harmony and Spike interact with their
Human family members that he realises just how many concessions he has made to
their Human sensibilities. He had joined Spike and Harmony feasting on mugs of
blood thoughtfully prepared by Nova. Oz and Ethan and even Nova hadn’t been in
the least disgusted and had just carried on talking to as if they weren’t
sitting amidst some of the deadliest Vampires in history. He can’t feed without
Cordelia, Wesley or one of the others grimacing and finding somewhere else to
be. He knows they don’t mean to do it and may not even realise that they do,
but that really just kind of makes it worse. Any deviation from what they
consider ‘normal’, moody and tortured, and he starts getting funny looks.
Heaven forbid he should want to wear leather
just because it looks good, oh no, the one and only time he tried and everyone
ran for the nearest pointy wooden object. He knows that his friends care for
him; he would even say that they love him but he can’t honestly say that any of
them have accepted him without reservation. Until he saw how Spike behaved and
how he was treated by his friends, did the difference really get shoved home to
him. His often manic, never predictable, blond bombshell of a Grand-Childe is
loved and accepted by this ragtag
family he has built around him. He finds that he wants to be part of that; if
only for a little while.
“There has never been anything between us but sheets and hair when we’ve
shared a bed, I’m not about to change that now. Unless you’d rather I wore
something?” Angel says honestly.
He tries not to smile as Spike replaces the bundle in the drawer and
closes it before closing the wardrobe and crossing to the bed. He turns the
covers back and stands there waiting. It takes Angel a moment to realise he is
waiting for him like he did as a
fledgling. He strides quickly to the bed and climbs in, smiling as Spike carefully
pulls the covers over him and smoothes them over his shoulders neatly.
Angel sighs as the featherbed yields to him, welcoming him into its
warmth and softness with no protests and the plump pillows cradling his head in
comfort. He watches as Spike pads, cat silent, across the room and picks up a
small glass ball from a box on the mantle, no bigger than a marble and tosses
it into the logs already stacked neatly in the fireplace, shattering it. Within
seconds the logs have ignited and burn cheerfully, their gold and red shadows
flickering in the otherwise unlit room. He turns to watch Spike cross the room
in the silent, lithely graceful manner that only he has and get in on the other
side of the bed and roll until he’s facing him, their chests almost touching.
After a moment’s hesitation, egged on by Spike moving infinitesimally closer,
he drapes his arm around his waist, rubbing the small of his back gently. He
almost smiles at the nostalgic feelings that flood through him; it would be all
too easy to slip into the fantasy that over a hundred years haven’t past since
last he was this close to his favourite.
“So this Lindsey bloke that you were telling me about is the same
blighter that tried to help Dru and the Great White Bitch to bring Angelus
back?” Spike asks with his brow quirking up in question. Angel nods looking
angry. “And he’s the same tosser that’s been trying to get me to go out with
him, bothering my agent and being a general all around pain in me arse?” Angel
nods again, this time disgust wars with the anger on his face.
“We have a client that hired us to find out why Wolfram & Hart have
been trying to muscle him. One of my informants came in with some information
that Lindsey was behind it and told me where I could find him.” Angel grimaces.
“And about the gorgeous dancer that just may be willing to help me stick the
screws to him and get him to back off. I went to the strip club to see what I
could find out and that’s when I saw you dancing and realised you were the
dancer.” Angel uses the arm around Spike’s waist to haul him closer, locking
him tightly against him and keeping him there. “You don’t want to know what I
felt when I realised that it was you Lindsey was after. You REALLY don’t want to know what I wanted
to do when I saw you dancing and taking clothes off in front every low life
sicko in the place.” Spike winces as his fingers dig with just enough force to
be more pain than pleasure into his skin but he doesn’t try to pull away but
welcomes the bit of agony.
“When I first got here, I didn’t have anything and it wasn’t like I
could hunt. It took me almost a month to get access to my various accounts as I
had to set up some new ID’s and I had to eat Angelus.” He presses back against
those biting fingers and almost wiggles in happiness at the possessiveness
Angel hasn’t realised he’s showing towards him. It’s been over a century since
the only Vampire he has ever truly considered his Sire; let him know that he is
his now and forever.
His brief emergence in Sunnydale was a nightmarish parody of his Sire;
all the cruelty and bloodthirsty insanity but none of the tenderness or
possessive love that once ruled their relationship. No Angelus just wanted to
bathe in misery and the blood, denying anything that was soft and made him feel,
considering those to be the possession of the souled part of himself that he
hated. He wonders if two ‘damaged’ Vampires can manage to make up a whole one
and almost laughs at the image that conjures up. He doesn’t know if it is true
or not but he imagines it’d sure be a hell of a lot of fun trying to fit his
parts into Angel’s parts and seeing if it works.
“Why didn’t you come to me Wil? I would have taken care of you, I would
have. You would have been safe, you have to know that?” Angel asks the hurt sounding
out clearly in his voice. His hand suddenly relaxes as though he finally became
aware that they were biting into his skin and he rubs the sting away
absent-mindedly.
“Angel, sometimes I wonder if you can even take care of yourself. You try so hard to save the
world, Hero but who saves you when you need help?” Spike says laughing and
after a moment Angel joins him.
“Well I admit I didn’t luck out and find an Alpha Werewolf, a Master
Chaos Sorcerer, and a Vampire Childe that is content to nurture her humanity to
help me. I don’t think they have job ads that cover that kind of thing.” Angel
says with a snort of wry laughter. “You always were the luckiest son of a bitch
I ever met Wil. Knock you down and not only do you bounce back up but you come
back up with more than you got knocked down with!”
Spike chuckles and flushes faintly. “It was a bit of good luck for a
change.”
“You’ve done a marvellous job mentoring Harmony; she seems very well
adjusted to her situation. You were right too; she is strong, almost as strong
as you were as a fledgling. Does she have a gift?”
“I think Oz may have to take just as much credit for that as I could
claim. Ethan too, we’ve all done our parts in mentoring each other. Her gift is
a bit like Dru’s, only without the bleeding insanity to worry about. She’s not
a Seer and she doesn’t have the touch when it comes to the thrall but she has
an uncanny knack for certain things. She can tell when someone is lying to her
and she’s very sensitive to the proximity of other Demons and Ethan says she
can sense magic and I think she may have a talent for animals too. She has the
damndest touch when it comes to things with fur and fangs. I think it may be
part of the reason why she and Oz have worked out so well. She is the only one
that can calm his Wolf when it’s in a berserker rage. Ethan can do it by magic
and I can do it by besting him in a dominance fight but it only takes the touch
of her hand and the sound of her voice and he comes back to himself.”
“I said it once and I’ll say it again. You always were the luckiest son
of a bitch I ever met! Those gifts are rare, even among the old ones; she’s a
credit to the line.” Angel slaps Spike on the shoulder with no little envy
colouring his actions.
“Would you mind telling her that Mate? I’ve told her that but I think
part of her thinks I’m just saying it because I’m her Sire. It would mean a lot
more coming from you.” Spike says honestly.
“Sure, I’ll be glad too.” Angel says gruffly. Before he realises what
he’s doing he’s diving against Spike and holding on as tightly as he can with
his face pressed against his chest and choking back tears. “I thought I was
alone. You hated me and Darla, Dru, Penn, all gone because of me.”
“I may have hated you, but I loved you too. I never stopped. I never
will stop.” Spike cups his chin and lifts his head tenderly licking and kissing
the tears away. “They were damaged, each in their way and if being leashed has
taught me anything Angel, it’s taught me about choice. You may have had a hand in how they developed as Vampires
just as you helped to make me the Vampire that I am, but they had the choice to
be different. None of them took it and it lead them to their ends. Let them go,
give the past only the power that you want it to have, Ethan taught me that. We
had some good times didn’t we;
Angelus?”
“Aye my Precious Lad, we did at that. You’ve saved Aurelius my boy. I
will never take another Childe, but in you and in your Childe there is a
future. I guess with a soul that shouldn’t matter should it?”
“You may have a soul Angelus, but you are still a Vampire; having a soul doesn’t change that. It just
makes some of the choices easier to make, like the chip did for me. Aurelius
has stood since the dawn of memory, how could you not have felt regret that it
could end with us?” Spike says soothingly. “It won’t end with us or even with
Harmony, Angelus. When the time comes, Ethan has asked me to sire him and I
know that Oz has asked Harm to do the same. They want to stay with us, to be our family and they’re willing to give
up their lives to do it. Ethan has found a spell that will let them make the
transition safely and with their souls intact. He may even be able to help you
make sure your soul stays where it belongs. I’ll ask him tomorrow if he knows
of anything that can help. Aurelius will go on and you won’t be alone.”
“Promise?” Angel says sounding very much like the little boy he has
wonder if he ever really got to be. In the times they were born, youth was
perhaps the most fleeting thing of all and the easiest to lose. Marriage, jobs,
life, they all began before the age that children of the modern age even leave
high school.
“Yes, I promise. If you go, I promise you won’t be alone.” Spike swears,
knowing that he means every word. If the day should come when Angelus is no
more than the same will be said of William the Bloody. He’ll make sure of that.
He feels the tender brush of a fingertip against his lower lip and smiles
against it, melting against the lips that press gently against his in a silent
benediction that heals more wounds than any words could have done.
He loses track of the time as they lay talking there quietly in the
flame lit night and couldn’t begin to tell when he fell asleep, so natural the
fall had been. He’s not positive at first what awakened him, some small whisper
of a sound, some shifting in the space that brought him from sleep to
wakefulness. He looks around the darken room, his sharp senses stretching out
to take in every minute detail. He can feel the solid strength of Angelus
nestled behind him, chest pressed tightly to his back, a strength that even
know he can feel stirring to wakefulness in response to his own. Finding
nothing amiss in the room he stretches his senses out farther, like the ripples
of a pond and his eyes soften in sorrow. He knows what has awoken him now. He
just hopes that he’ll come to him as he has come before and waits patiently
there in the dark, stroking Angelus’ arm as it lies across his chest letting
him know everything is alright.
After a tense few minutes the door to the bedroom creeps slowly open and
a dark tousled head peeks around the edge, nervously. Before he can say
anything Spike is startled as Angel’s voice sounds out in the darkness.
“Come in Ethan, it’s alright.” He says gently and he does shutting the
door quietly behind him. He looks haggard and haunted and very much lost as he
stands there wearing only a pair of silk sleep pants and shifting from foot to
foot.
“Nightmares.” Spike says quietly for Angel’s benefit; too low for Ethan
to hear; as he reaches out and flips the covers back and motions for Ethan to
come to him. Angel understands all too well the power of nightmares and lifts
his arm beckoning him to join them too and finally Ethan does in a grateful
rush of speed. He ducks his head against Spike’s as it lies on the pillow and
curls his body as close to him as he can, while Spike smoothes the covers back
over them all. He wraps an arm around Ethan’s waist and cradles him like a
child and feels Angel reach over their heads to stroke his hair as they whisper
soothingly to the upset man. Within a few minutes Ethan has fallen back to
sleep, the tension falling away and his breathing evening out.
Spike reaches behind him and finds Angel’s free hand and curls their
fingers together tightly and feels him curling around his body and melting into
him. Sleep comes to him as quietly as it came earlier and he falls back to
dream, safe in the arms of his Guardian Angel once more.
Angel lets sleep take him only once he is sure that his charges sleep
once more peacefully, secure in the knowledge that his family are safe. As his
mind drifts from wakeful to asleep, he is left to wonder when Spike’s unusual
family became his own. Perhaps it was seeing his deadly Grand-Childe reaching
out to comfort a very scared and all too Human Chaos Sorcerer like a Father
does a son. Or maybe it was his willingness to share the safety and warmth of
their bed to do the same. Their bed…he likes the sound of that as waking
becomes sleeping and dreams chase away the nightmares that are his cost of
living for a past inundated with blood. Maybe among this extraordinary family
he can finally learn how to beat the high cost of living here in the City of
Angels and earn his wings back. If anyone can teach him about life, it’ll be
the deceptively smaller Vampire curled up against him. Life has never given up
its jealous hold on Spike he knows and no one living, dead, or undead has a
spirit that soars as high as his does. Maybe just maybe he’ll really be an Angel
in the city, soaring high beside his white haired Demon Childe. And maybe just
maybe he should stop thinking so much and just be as his boy likes to tell him all the time. He just may be right.
He sighs, William’s name softly upon his lips and knows no more as his
conscious mind sleeps.
Miles away in a lavish apartment filled with every materialistic want,
other eyes snap open with cry as a convulsing body is drained dry in the throws
of a dream fuelled ecstasy. His cry of…
“William!”
…Resounds off the perfectly painted walls; as Lindsey wraps his hands
around the neck of the petite blond prostitute thrashing below him and he
squeezes.
It’s just another day in the city of
TBC
Lindsey discovers just how unwise it is to mess with Angelus’ boy in a
way that is sure to leave a lasting
impression…or lack thereof. Also Angel gets to know his new ‘adopted’ family
better and in the process he discovers more about Spike and himself as a
surprise visitor from Sunnydale arrives with grave news that may rip apart
their new family in one blow.