The Greatest Prize of All
Angel groaned inwardly when the door to the office swung open so violently it crashed into the wall. He didn't need to look up to know who had just come through it.
Spike flopped down in an arm chair situated opposite Angel's desk.
Angel didn't look up, he continued to scan the papers Gunn had sent over to him the previous afternoon.
"Big desk," Spike said after a while.
Angel's brow furrowed but he didn't respond.
"There's a theory 'bout blokes obsessed with size you know."
Angel grit his teeth for a moment. "It was already here when I arrived, I didn't choose it."
"Didn't change it either," Spike said tucking his tongue into his cheek, his lips curling into a smirk.
Angel's shoulder's hunched and his fingers tightened on the papers he held, but he managed to restrain himself from speaking. If he ignored Spike long enough he might just find someone else to annoy.
"Big room too," Spike observed after a few minutes of silence.
"Aren't you supposed to be with Illyria?" Angel snapped.
Spike pouted slightly. "She keep's hittin' me in the face. Says she likes it."
"I can relate."
"She keeps touchin' my clip board." Spike continued to complain, if he was having a rough day he saw no reason why Angel should be spared, after all he was supposed to be the big boss man. "And I think I saw her eat a plant. You know, the ones Lorne keeps puttin' about the place. Has he seen the one over there?" Spike gestured towards the corner of Angel's office. "You've damn near killed it, he won't…"
"Spike!"
Spike scowled. "What's got your knickers in a twist?"
Angel finally looked up exasperated. "I've read this sentence five times and I still have no idea what is says."
"You always were slow."
He was lounging in the chair, one leg bent at the knee as it hung over the arm. He looked so insolent that the demon in Angel fairly screamed to beat him into submission.
"Spike," Angel said again, his voice thick with tension. "What do you want?"
"Just takin' a break is all, that is allowed 'ere isn't it?"
"Why are you taking a break in my office?"
"Percy and Charlie are busy."
"What the hell do you think I'm doing?" Angel demanded irritably. "Shut up and go away. I have work to do."
Spike snorted. "Fine, I know where I'm not wanted."
"First I've heard of it," Angel muttered.
"I heard that."
"Of course you heard it!" Angel threw up his hands in frustration. "You're never more than five feet away from me. Every time I look up your there, every time I say something your there to hear it and give a snarky response, I honestly can't remember the last time I walked into a room and you weren't there. I can't turn around without tripping over you."
Spike grinned. "Looks like I didn't 'ave to be a ghost to haunt you after all."
The sun streamed in through the window falling onto Spike face casting half of it into shadow, in that moment he looked exactly what he was: demon and soul, man and monster. His shock of white blonde hair turned golden where fingers of sunlight touched lightly to the fine curls, and Angel felt in that moment that it was Spike rather than himself who was the demon with the face of an angel.
Memories of Spike, of William, of William the Bloody all washed over him. Some Angel recalled vividly, others were like fractured dreams but no less real in their intensity.
No, Spike didn't have to be a ghost to haunt him.
Spike lived with him always, in his past, in his head, in his heart and now in the present. It was like a whole new form of torture having Spike so close and sharing a life with him again.
"Well then," Spike stood up and stretched out his back. "I'd better get back to it. Some of us 'ave work to do, you know, can't sit around chattin' with you all day."
He strode to the door his black leather duster flapping about his ankles. Pausing in the door way Spike turned back to Angel. "See ya later, Peaches."
Angel sighed heavily. "Yes, I'm sure you will."
Spike grinned and left the office.
Spike; he was a complete pain the ass and he always had been. But even knowing that both Angelus and Angel were jealous of Drusilla. Somehow, out of all the people in the world she had found and turned this boy, she had been the object his attention, basked in his unconditional love and affection.
Perhaps it was fate mocking him even back then, dangling in front of him what he wanted and could never have. Perhaps it was the universe making amends for what Angelus had done to her and punishing him in return, for Angelus may have taken her mind to break and bend to his will but he could never take what she had; Drusilla had triumphed in the end for she owned the greatest prize of all; sweet William, the fallen angel.