Author: Stolen Childe
Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, they belong to people with names.
Rating: R
Warnings: slash, cursing, angst, sap
Paring: A/S, S/A, A(us)/William
Spoilers: Not Fade Away, Fool For Love
Author's Notes: This story happens in a series of flashbacks and time jumps most of which are not canon, all are labelled with the date and the year so it shouldn't be confusing, I hope. I wrote most of it in one go, but paused for a few weeks and finished it. I'm not sure how it turned out. Please tell me what you think!
Soundtrack
Rest in Peace - James Marsters
Numb - Linkin Park
Never Let Go - Josh Groban
All For You - Our Lady Peace
You Raise Me Up- Josh Groban
I normally don't do those but for the most part those songs really affected what I was writing at the time so if you can get a hold of them, try it out.
XXXXXXXXXX
London, 1880
He had been watching him for the better part of two months. Originally he was just intending to kill him, but soon something about the lad intrigued the dark vampire and he couldn't stay away. He was everything Angelus hated. Rich mama's boy who was waited on hand and foot with more servant than balls. There was just something about him. The shy way he talked to the other men off the town, seemingly trying to hide something he shouldn't feel and the way he followed around one woman like she was a godsend.
"There's no god Boyo." Angelus muttered to himself, "Your lass there is just another overcharging whore who won't give you the time of day."
Angelus watched as the young poet straightened his jacket and patted his messy, dark strawberry blond hair. He took a few deep breaths and readied himself to knock on the door. Two light raps and the heavy wood swung open a young maid on the other side smiled falsely and ushered the young man in.
"Mister Turner." she curtsied. William Turner smiled unsteadily and entered the expensive and elaborate townhouse. Angelus watched his back disappear into the brightly lit house and walked around to a window that lead to a view of the parlour. He watched as William tried to make small talk with a few of the other gentlemen before quickly excusing himself and taking up position on a short-seated, high-backed chair and pulled bundles of crumbled paper from his pocket, a bottle of ink and a fountain pen.
Angelus watched for quite a while longer before giving up his survey and walking back onto the street. He was to meet Darla and Drusilla in a few moments and his sire did not appreciate him being late.
They were walking down the street, his arm around Darla's waist while Drusilla walked quietly beside them, when the boy, William came running down the cobblestones the scent of his tears heavy on his person and all the more apparent in the tracks down his smooth pale cheeks of one who has known little sun. Angelus squeezed Darla's waist and nodded imperceptibly. That was the intended. William barrelled into Angelus.
"Watch where you are going!" William snapped. Darla laughed brightly and they continued down the street, now was not quite the time. Angelus would wait a few more days, wreak some more torment and change the lad when he was at his weakest. It would be sweet victory.
So wrapped up in his own thoughts Angelus hadn't noticed Drusilla was no longer following them. He looked around the shop windows to see if something shiny had caught her eye and cursed.
"Stupid girl." he hissed, disengaging himself from Darla's embrace and running down the street, unmindful of other pedestrians. He followed his childe's signature and found her just as William nearly fully drained was collapsing to his knees.
"Drusilla!" Angelus yelled, "What have you done?"
She turned, innocent little girl eyes, "He smelt so very sweet Daddy. He was like a little boy all 'urt and alone. I wanted to drink him up and make him better." She blinked at him slowly.
Angelus shook his head, "Go to Darla, she's at the toy shop. I shall deal with you later." Drusilla nodded quickly and scurried out of the stable.
"Help..." William's voice was strained.
"Still awake Boy?" Angelus asked surprised, "Seems I've underestimated you." Angelus took William's chin roughly in hand and jerked his head up and back. he lapped at Drusilla's wounds until they marks vanished thanks to the master's powerful saliva than delved his fangs into the smooth supple neck. William cried out and weak arms came up to encircle Angelus's neck. There was precious little of the sweet elixir remaining but enough for Angelus to taste the sweet, intoxicating flavour of his new boy.
Angelus slowly unbuttoned his shirt cuff and tore at his skin with his teeth.
"You aren't escaping that easy Lad." Angelus told the boy, grabbing him roughly by the back of the head and pressing his wrist to the boy's lips, "Drink. I'll make sure that if I have to suffer for eternity you'll be right with me and I can inflict every one of my pains upon your sorry form." Angelus cried out despite himself as blunt human teeth bit down hard around the wound managing to break the skin.
"Maybe not as weak as I thought." Angelus admitted his teeth tightly locked. He felt himself being drained, slowly, painfully and finally pulled away from the boy who had been allowed more blood than was custom. His heart beat which had began to slow stopped at last along with the breath flowing into his body. He slumped, dead in Angelus's arms lips coated tantalizing red, head titled limply back. Angelus for the first time allowed his gaze to properly look over the boy and realized the beauty he held. His gaze lingered at the pretty face and bloodstained lips and something stirred in Angelus, something he had not previously felt towards his creations. He wanted to own this boy, possess this boy, but he also wanted a comrade in this boy. Someone to hunt with, to roam with to... take to bed. He watched in awe as the demon slowly latched onto the boy and began to blossom changes that no mortal would be able to see. Reverently Angelus lifted the boy into his arms, and gently rested the blond head on his shoulder to make it look like he was merely sleeping.
Once Angelus had arrived back at the townhouse, he took the lad up to his own chambers and rested him on the silken sheets arranging him in what he hoped would be a comfortable position.
"Drusilla." Angelus called out. In a few moments his girl had appeared at the entrance to his room, cradling a new doll in her arms. A slight measure of trepidation on her face.
"Drusilla." Angelus repeated, "Because you found Daddy such a nice gift, you will not be punished this time. But if ever you do it again, the beating with be harsh and brutal. Do you understand? Now, watch over your new baby brother. I'm going to feed." Drusilla nodded eagerly and rushed to the boy's side, settling herself next to him. Angelus watched the pair with reluctant fondness before leaving for the hunt.
xx
He stalked the streets, forgoing his usual finesse. He was overcome by emotions he thought he was only capable of feeling towards his sire. All consuming love. It sickened him and pleased him all at once. His new boy was remarkable. Penn had hardly been a worthy progeny. Angelus himself was still young when he had turned the lad. He was glad he got to William before Drusilla had completed the act. His girl was a mere twenty years in making. This way William would be powerful, nearly unstoppable if trained properly. Angelus at the thought felt a stirring within him. Yes. The boy would be trained properly. He would be hurt only my his master when he deserved it and if need be, he would even protect his new childe from Darla.
"Drusilla has earned a playmate. And I have earned a son." Angelus remarked to himself and almost casually snatched a young man off the street, a beggar. No one would miss this one. He dragged the lad into the alley and delved into his neck, silencing the usually intoxicating screams with his hand. He had to return to his boy.
Angelus looked over his victim, ran a long finger over his cheek, "If you had been cleaned up a bit, you would have been a pretty lad. Mayhaps I'll leave a note for them to put that on your grave marker." Angelus chuckled and took some of the spilt blood, writing his message quickly on the wall before disappearing into the night. Fourteen more hours and his boy would be awake. He couldn't wait.
New York City, 1998
Angel leaned up against the wall, watching the vampires partying and playing in the noisy underground club. He had returned from hell, more guilt trodden then ever and the only way he felt he could make it up is if he came here. Not to New York specifically but to where the blood was calling.
He watched quietly as his oldest boy threw his arm amicably over his youngest. They had never really been close, but they did get along on the occasions his eldest paid dear ol' da a visit. Angel shook his head. He didn't like thinking in those terms any longer, but that didn't change the facts. They were his boys and... his gaze stole to a corner booth, grandchilder it seemed. He caught the young ones' scents and realized that his baby had still not found himself a childer. They were all Penn's.
"What are you doing here Spike?" Penn asked, "I thought you would be in Brazil with Drusilla."
Spike snorted, "The bitch don't think I'm demon 'nough for her. Ran off with a Chaos demon. A bloody antlers they are!"
"Well never fear, you're much prettier." Penn grinned and placed a brotherly kiss on Spike's head. Angel could tell they were both drunk. He shook his head and turned away hoping he had concealed his presence enough from them. With Penn here, he didn't think he was ready to face Wil-- Spike just yet. The things he had done. The things the demon drove him to do. His baby boy, helpless and trapped in that damn chair! He had wished Spike had just asked him. Sucked up his pride and had come to him with his problem. He would have helped Drusilla, really he would have. But because of Buffy...
xx
Spike looked up from his whisky and over to the shadowed doorway of the club. For just the briefest of moments he thought he had felt him. But that was impossible! Angel was in hell. Spike himself had helped Slutty the Sire Slayer send him there. He just couldn't take it. He couldn't take looking at Sunnydale's Angelus and seeing his beloved sire superimposed on that constantly smirking face. That was not Angelus! Angelus had never been that cruel, the evil, that wicked. It was for Angelus' own good. For Dru and him. Spike downed his whiskey in one and turned to the demon behind the bar for another. He just needed to be a little more drunk and then he could float away. It was nice there. He felt like he was lying on the ocean with no land for miles.
"Why such a spoilsport Spike?" Penn asked, in his raucously cheerful voice that Spike loathed. But he always played nice for daddy. Didn't want to anger Penn and go and get himself hurt. Because then Daddy would have to hurt him. Not in the nice way either.
"Can't get drunk 'nough on this piss water." Spike muttered, "I'm gonna go. Don't much feel like... like much of anything really."
"Shame." Penn frowned, then shrugged, "All right then Spike. Say good bye to your nieces and nephews before you go?" Spike shrugged and turned back to the bar, fishing in his duster pocket for the bundle of notes he had stolen. He counted them carefully and placed them on the countertop before taking his leave. He really didn't feel much like anything.
Spike wondered the darkened streets, looking in the lit-up display windows half-heartedly. He didn't know why he even came to New York. Maybe to relive his glory days when he was still the big bad and bagged himself a slayer. Nice one she was too. Tasted like caramel on the way down. He licked his lips unconsciously and paused when something in particular caught his eye in the display of a jewellery store. He glanced over and felt his heart contract before turning away, scrubbing furiously at his eyes. Not willing to admit the tears that gathered there.
"Fuck." he muttered, glancing down at his own hand to see the rings adorning it. One was a silver band with a intricate Celtic knot design carved into the pliable metal. He worked at the ring trying to pull it over his knuckle and failing miserable.
"Fuckin' hell Angelus! Get out of my head! You're dead! You're dead! You're DEAD!" he cursed the night, "You're dead because I killed you." He stumbled into the alley and pressed his hand against the still warm brick, falling to his knees amid the filth and refuge.
"Will." Spike's head snapped up to a pair of eyes, back-lit like a cat's in the shadows.
"No." Spike shook his head, "You're dead. You're in hell. You're dead." Angel stepped out of the shadow, holding a hand out to the blond.
"To you want me dead?" Angel questioned softly, "Do you really want me gone? I was in hell Wil -- Spike. I was there, you helped put me there. I was there for five hundred years." Angel flashed a small smile, "No bat nose, lucky huh?"
Spike shook his head, "No! You weren't. I did... I didn't mean to. You were hurting Dru and I didn't like it."
"I know Spike." Angel said, "I know. I was hurting you too and I'm sorry."
"No! I'm drunk. Off my trolley I am. Completely knackered. Cuz you're in Hell. You aren't here. Slutty sent you to Hell. But I feel guilty so I'm seeing things. That's right. Penn put something in me drinks."
"No Spike. Listen." Angel implored.
"I saw that Claddaugh ring in the shop window. You always wore one when were mak-- when we were shaggin'. That's all it is. And... an' I'm drunk. So I'm gonna find me a nice sewer to lie in and in the morning none of this will matter anymore."
"Spike please. I want to say something." The blond didn't comment just continued walking away, hands shoved deep in his duster pocket. Angel soon caught up to the blond and Spike looked over, noticing he looked surprisingly substantial. As a matter of fact, Angel looked a lot more substantial than Spike felt.
"What is it then." Spike muttered, even though he didn't know why.
"Thank you Spike." Angel whispered. The younger vampire froze in his spot, looking over at the tall figure of his dead sire.
"Thank you for getting Buffy. Thank you for not letting me kill Giles. Thank you for hitting me with a crowbar. Thank you for getting Dru away from me."
"Now I know I'm three sheets to the wind." Spike said, shaking his head, "Okay. You can go know. I can find meself a liquor store and some good scotch then find me self a little hidey-hole for the day. When I wake up, all this will be over and done with. You'll still be in hell and I'll be on my way back to Brazil. Dru might want me if she finds out I'm as crazy as she is and Daddy visited me in New York." Spike was no longer talking to Angel, but to himself, "Good plan that. She'll get a good laugh too. Daddy thanked me." Spike chuckled wryly, "God I'm so gone I cook up phantom sires to thank me to make me feel better. I didn't want to kill him! I didn' really. I just wanted to get away for awhile, 'til he killed Slutty and got right in the 'ead again. Stupid bint went an' lost her virginity to a vampire! Wot she expect? Flowers and chocolates?" Spike snorted, "Right. Surprised me ol' sire didn't take a good chunk outta her. Soul or no soul. Fuckin' gypsies. I knew that was a rotten prezzie! Nothin' ever good came from gypsies."
"Spike." Angel whispered.
Spike looked genuinely startled, glancing over at the darker vampire, "Still here then?"
"Come with me. I have an apartment here. I don't want you sleeping in the sewers." Angel put a gentle hand on the other's shoulder. Spike stared at the heavy cool weight for a full minute, blinking at it. It was so pale against the dark leather of his duster. Pig's blood never gives a vamp any colour. Not like human. That always gave Angelus a good flush. Made him nice and warm.
"Spike." Angel whispered.
"Will." Spike heard in his head, in Angelus' warm tones.
xx
Angel couldn't believe that Spike actually thought that he was a figment. A little insulted as well. But his baby boy seemed so out of it, so lost. Angel knew the feeling. He felt the same when he had to stake Darla to save Buffy... Save the slayer. It may be some residual Angelus, or some contempt left over from having her send him to hell. But right now, all his anger was directed at Buffy. His wrists burned from where the metal of the manacles had dug into his skin tender from hell fire. His soul burned at the pain he had caused his boy. It cried out more than it did for Buffy. Probably because he hadn't actually hurt her. Not really. A few little mental scars, but nothing like Giles. Angel closed his eyes at that. Poor Giles. Oh god! Dawn.
"What you whining 'bout Phantom?" Spike snapped.
Angel started, realizing he was keening, "For the things I did. To you, to Dru, to Dawn, to Giles, to Willow."
"But not Slutty?" Spike rose a surprised brow, "Rather surprising that."
"Come on Will. You know me. What I'm capable of. Buffy was child's play." Angel looked sidelong at his golden childe.
"True." Spike shrugged, "I did worse to slayers than that. Why didn't you kill her?"
"I think Angelus was having too much fun. It would have been over too quick if I killed her. Like I said, you know me."
"You're wrong." Spike muttered, "I don' know you. I don't know Angel. Never got a chance to did I? Cuz he ran away didn' he? Left me with the BitchQueen in China. Left me this." Spike said, reaching into one of his pockets and pulling out a tattered green ribbon with a silver ring tied on and tossing it. Angel instinctively caught it. It was old and tarnished and the ribbon was hardly holding up anymore. But Angel recognized it. His first Clauddaugh ring, the one he was given when he was a boy in Galway.
"Tried to know you." Spike said, "Back in Los Angeles. That when you gave be this." He reached in another pocket and threw the perfectly taken care of zippo lighter at him. Angel traced the elegantly etched 'A' with his finger.
Los Angeles, 1952
The newly named Angel stared at the wall of the third mouldy motel he had holed up in after the Hyperion incident. Poor Judy. Angel shook his head, he couldn't think like that! He was evil, he was a vampire. He didn't care about people. People never did anything for him but a quick feed and quicker fuck. He looked at his bottle of whiskey, cursing at realizing it was almost empty. He didn't want to have to go out again. But his soul was eating him up inside, it was burning. He closed his eyes and leaned back on the wall. Stretching out across his blood links, desperate for some familiarity.
Darla... Penn... Dru... Angel's eyes shot open.
Once he found Dru, Spike was usually right behind. But Dru was way over in Italy, it tasted like Italy anyway. Darla was gallivanting around France and Penn was off in Germany. Angel had never liked Germany. But Spike, where was Spike? Angel stretched his senses as far as he could and still didn't sense anything. Was his boy all right? Was he gone? Angel would surely now if he was dusted. He slipped off the bed and over to the phone. He'd call Drusilla, Dru would tell him. He was just about to dial when he felt himself slammed face first against the wall. Cool alcohol smelling breath brushing against his neck.
"Think you could run from me, did ya Sire? Soon as I heard about that bloody hotel, I knew what had happened. Never could resist a good haunted house, now could ya Angelus?" Spike whispered harshly into his ear. Angel sagged against the wall.
"Thank God." he said, "I thought you had died." With another forceful shove Spike released him and stepped back, looking warily at his sire.
"Wot are you talkin' about?"
"What did you do to your hair?" Angel blinked.
Spike reached up and touched his bleached locks tentatively, before snatching his hand away and staring defiantly at his sire.
"Where have you been?" Spike asked, voice full of contempt, "Haven't seen you since the bleedin' Nazis."
"Around." Angel shrugged, returning to his bed and climbing back up, he took a large swallow of the alcohol then offered the rest to Spike. Spike took it cautiously and downed the rest before joining him on the small bed. Their hips and shoulders brushed.
It was many moments before either of them spoke. "Why didn't you tell me?" Spike's voice was quiet, lending to the ambience of the room.
"About what?" Angel's was just as.
"The soul." Spike replied, "Why didn't you tell me?" Angel pushed up off the bed, away from Spike as far as he could get in the tiny room. He ran a hand through his slicked down hair and pulled it away scowling down at the grease collected there. He wiped it distractedly on a discarded towel and refused to turn around, staring at the seemingly empty room through the glass of the mirror.
"You wouldn't have understood." Angel said.
"You didn't try." Spike replied, "So I'm trying now. Make me understand. Fuck Angelus! I'm only seventy-two years old! And you up and left before I was even twenty! How do you think I felt?"
"You had Dru." Angel said quietly, not bothering to correct the blond on the name.
Spike snorted, "Like Dru could sire anything! She's battier than me ol' grandmum. Er... the real one, not Darla. Though that bird's pretty loony herself."
"She took care of you!" Angel protested, turning around to face Spike, still on the bed.
"She pretended I was one of her dolls. I was a toy to her Angelus. You know that. I'm so desperate I went to Germany for Penn! Penn! And he never cared one whit about me!" Spike said, his voice fading so Angel could just hear it, "But he's the closest thing to you. So please. Please make me understand. I want to know. I need you."
The desperation was so clear in his boy's eyes that he felt his heart threaten to shatter into a million pieces. But he wasn't ready, he didn't think he would ever be ready. It was eating him away from the inside out. This soul. If he couldn't even take care of himself, how did Spike expect him to take care of a childe? He was so strong too. He was vibrating with blood that was already over a century old when he was given it. He was aged scarcely a week into fledgehood.
"Spike. When you were twenty-one, you killed a slayer. You weren't even a full blown vampire yet, but you did it. I know you did because I smelt her blood all over you and you told me you did. I've never killed a slayer. You are strong, amazingly powerful Spike for one so young. You don't need me, if anything I need you." Angel regretted that as soon as it was out of his mouth, even though the truth it may be.
"Then let me stay." Spike implored plaintively.
"So pretty when you beg Will." Angel whispered, brushing his baby's sharp cheekbones with his finger. Neither knew who started it, but the next instant their lips had met in a harsh bruising kiss and Angel found himself beneath his childe as the blond moved slowly and reverently down his body.
"I can count your ribs Sire." Spike whispered against the colder than usual skin, sending marvellous little ripples of pleasure down Angel's body, "You should feed more." The rest of the day was filled with passion and slow lovemaking. Such as they hadn't experienced before. Angel took Spike in, for what seemed to be the first time as it had only happened on few occasions prior. It was wonderful and marvellous and exhilarating. Spike didn't know what he had expected when he had come here this evening. When he had followed Sire-scent and Sire-pain and Sire-grief. From the blood soaked Hyperion, to one sleazy motel after another. So very unlike Angelus. Who always loved extravagance.
"You punish yourself Sire." Spike whispered, "How long since you've been touched. Since you've been loved. Consorting with human's but sticking to the shadows. I smell not a drop of human blood on you Sire. Vermin and swine." A harsh bite on his carotid artery, "But you still taste like rich dark chocolate." Angel lost himself to the sensation Spike was causing in him. Not caring that they were crossing the boundaries of every Sire/Childe law that existed in the vampire lore. He just needed to feel something, and if that be his childe's fangs in his neck then so be it.
"Bloody matches." Spike cursed, once they were both sated for the day and he was trying to light one of his cigarettes. Angel gently took the small box of matches from Spike's hand and placed his own lighter to the tip of the cigarette.
"Hold on to it." Angel said, "Smoking doesn't have much appeal to me nowadays."
"But it's..." Spike drifted looking down at the shiny metal.
"I'm rather found of that lighter." Angel said, "Take care of it. And I'll be back for it." He pushed the covers off himself and slid into his discarded pants, pulling his shirt over his head.
"I'm leaving now." he said, unnecessarily, "I'll take care of the bill before I go. Get some sleep."
"You can't leave!" Spike said desperately, "I thought that's what this was about." He gestured vaguely to the rumpled sheets, "You said you needed me! I gave me to you! I'm yours. Bloody hell Angelus. Don't." Angel turned, and crawled back on the bed. He rested his hands on Spike's raised knees and pressed his forehead to the younger vampire's.
"I have to Will." Angel whispered, "Go back to Dru. Take care of each other, all right?"
"Don't." Spike repeated.
"All right?" the dark haired vampire stressed.
"All right." Spike nodded sombrely.
"You're a good lad Will." Angel whispered, "You're my favoured, always were. I love you. Take care of this..." he cupped his hands over Spike's that was clinging desperately to the small box of silver, "for me. I'll see you again."
New York, 1998
Angel tossed the lighter back at Spike, looking sidelong at him, "I told you I'd be back. So I'm back."
Spike snorted, "I thought we went over this. You're a figment my addled mind cooked up. You ain't my sire. As my sire is dead." Angel, no longer able to restrain himself, grabbed at Spike's shoulders and pushed him roughly against the brick wall. He planted a harsh kiss full on the smaller man's mouth, commanding access with his tongue and grinding against him.
"Do I feel real yet?" Angel growled, "Listen to me and listen to me good Boy. I am here, for you. I came to this city for you. I need you. I got pulled out of hell and found myself half crazed on my mansion floor. The only thought I had the entire time was kill slayer, find Spike and get something for the fuckin' pain in my ass. I was in hell Spike, I suffered in hell for five hundred years. I don't know why they pulled me out of it, whoever they are!"
"Whomever." Spike said very quietly.
Angel chuckled and released his bruising grip, "Forgive me." he rolled his eyes, "I'm really back Spike. In the undead flesh and the stolen blood. I'm not a figment, I'm not a phantom, I'm real." Angel pressed his forehead against Spike's and lifted the blond's chin so he could gaze into icy blue eyes.
"Come back with me?" Angel pleaded quietly. Spike shrugged and allowed Angel to pull him along, all the while clutching desperately at the lighter in his hand.
Spike awoke after a crazy dazed night of slow penetration and rough coming together. He had a headache, that was for certain, his neck ached and so did other parts of anatomy. He glanced around the apartment that could only be described as Spartan. It was so unlike Angelus, his usual extravagant houses endowed with all the magnificence and all the glamour that could be found for it. But this room was so incredibly different. The bedspread, beneath which Spike's naked body sat was white, the sheets below that just as so. They were cotton. Not silk, not satin... hell not even flannel. The bed frame was metal, almost hospital-like, the walls were grey and floor had a simple tile design. One window, with one curtain: a steel-blue. A black lamp, with a blue lampshade sat on the only side table that was bereft of even a clock. A kitchenette and a bathroom where the shower was currently running. The only thought to cross Spike's mind was: Fuck.
A moment later, of Spike's only semi-lucid contemplation of the apartment, Angel stepped out of the shower. He was dressed in black jeans and was towelling off his hair with a small while towel.
"So you're real then." Spike muttered, looking at Angel out of the corner of his eye.
"Yes." Angel nodded, "So you're sober then?"
Spike gave him a look, "Duh." Angel blinked at that so very Sunnydale phrase. He shook his head placed the towel neatly on a wooden kitchen chair placed against one wall and wondered over to the small kitchenette.
"Hungry?"
"God a human tied up somewhere? Under the tile perhaps?" Spike remarked dryly, throwing the covers off himself and patting around nude, looking for his duster. He found it and fumbled through the pockets, pulling out his cigarettes and lighting one. The lighter was alit before Spike realized it and he took a moment to stare down at it before bringing it to the cigarette. He tucked it away neatly almost reverently.
Angel came back out of the kitchenette with a frank look and handed Spike a glass of blood, Spike sniffed it and scowled down at it.
"I'm not going to drink this crap." Spike sneered down at the glass.
"Humour me?" Spike gave him a very pointed look and set the class down on the side table.
"Can go without." Spike shrugged.
"You drank all last night. You're bodies probably eighty percent alcohol right now. Drink it." Angel stressed. Spike scowled, picked up the glass and downed it in one go. Not without a performance, and heavy protestation. When he was done he slid into his jeans pulled his T-shirt over his head and hopped into his boots.
"Where are you going?" Angel asked, following the form around with his eyes.
"Gonna see a man about a dog. Where do you bloody well think I'm goin'?" Spike stared at the older vampire.
"Spike please." Angel implored, "What about all the things we talked about last night."
"I was drunk last night Peaches. Far as I'm concerned didn' happen." Spike shrugged into his duster and went to open the door.
"Spike." Angel tried again.
With a huff Spike turned around and put his hands on his hips, "Look ya ponce. We aren't friends. I aren't forgive you and I hate your poofy guts, got it? Thanks for the shag. It's been fun." Turning back to the door.
"Don't." Angel whispered.
Spike snorted, a harsh, slightly hysterical laugh, turning around again, "Don't? Don't? Sound familiar Angelus? Well not bloody likely!" In a flash, Angel was across the small room and had Spike pinned at his shoulders to the door. He pressed a deep tender kiss to the younger vampire's lips. Seemingly trying to melt into him. Without his violation, Spike's hands creeped up and tangled in Angel's short hair, pressing back into the kiss.
"Will." Angel whispered, forehead resting against Spike's own, "I love you. Please remember that."
Angel released the blond, stepping back and allowing him to leave. Spike stared for a moment, hand on the doorknob before he yanked it open and ran down the stairs. Angel watched him retreat before shutting the door softly, leaning up against it.
Los Angeles, 1999
A small pitiful groan, Angel awoke to the dark of his apartment. His wounds throbbed, the skin scorched around the hot poker holes. It was the night after Spike's little holiday to LA and the healing process was surprising slow. A vampire knew how to torture another vampire.
"All right Poof?" a slight weight on the mattress at his side.
"Been better." Angel said, looking over to glowing eyes. Spike shifted, and the eyes went dark, the light no longer trapped in the cat like irises.
"Here to apologize?" Angel asked, raising a brow. Spike snorted in reply, he reached over and flicked on the lamp, casting the alcove bedroom in light. Without any pretence Spike pulled the heavy blankets off his sire, running a hand over the bandaged chest.
"Cheerleader do these?" Spike questioned, removing a few.
"No, Doyle. He was a little distraught." Angel explained. Spike snorted again and wondered over to the bathroom removing the necessary supplies.
"Why'd you do it?" Angel called.
"You 'ad me ring. I wanted it back." Spike called in reply, returning with water. He sat lightly on the bed again and began washing over a few of the wounds.
"Next question then." Angel nodded, "Why didn't you do it?"
Spike paused briefly in his ministrations before replying, "Couldn'."
"Figured as much." Angel grunted, "Why didn't you just ask?" Spike looked at him and tightened a bandage more then necessary. Angel winced and nodded: point taken. If extra harm was to be visited on Buffy, Angel would never surrender the ring.
"Smashed it, didn' ya?" Spike stated more then asked. Angel nodded. They remained silent for the next few minutes while Spike cleaned up the wounds and fixed some of the bandages. He brushed his hand lightly against Angel's side before rising and emptying the bloodied water.
Spike came back and lay down next to his sire, head pillowed on crossed arms, feet crossed at the ankle. Angel knew this was Spike's way of saying sorry for the torture byway of irate vampire paedophile. Spike flipped open that oh so familiar lighter, just playing with it.
Kingston, 1978 (Canada)
Spike limped along, using the wall as support. New bloody slayer was strong. His stolen duster dragged along the sidewalk. He was coming back from Queen's University where the slayer was currently in residence. Spike had been a little surprise that one so old would be called. It just turned out she was some form of genius. Only sixteen and in her first year.
"When are you going to stop this?" a voice from the shadows. Spike looked over to the long haired Angel, leaning up against a wall.
"Never." Spike said.
Angel nodded, "Come on then." Angel put a hand on Spike's elbow to help him along. Spike jerked away only to stumble.
"Wil--"
"Spike." the blond snarled.
Angel blinked, "What did you do to your hair?" Spike reached up a hand to his nearly white spiked hair. Angel led the younger vampire away, this time not being shrugged off. This time Spike was led to a hotel. A rather posh hotel, he thought. Angel put him none-too-gently on the large bed in the centre of the room and rang downstairs for medical supplies. The hotel staff knew, from previous experiences to knock once and leave the requested item outside the door. When the knock came, Spike started slightly before settling again. Flipping his lighter on and off. The clicks perfectly timed.
"Why'd you do it?" Angel asked as he went about cleaning and patching up the wounds.
"Wanted to." Spike tried to shrug, staring at his lighter. They sat in silence for a few moments, Angel working diligently away, Spike trying his best to ignore the gentle ministrations of his sire's hands. When the supplies were packed away, Angel sighed.
"What?" Spike asked.
"Some of them are..." Angel drifted, "I'll have to..."
"Yeah."
"Yeah." Angel licked his lips, then bent over Spike's chest. Some of the wounds were too deep to patch and leave, Angel would have to speed up the healing process by resorting to his more animalistic side. He ran his cool tongue slowly and gently through the wounds, tasting the sharp bitter tang of antiseptic but ignoring it for the much sweeter elixir beneath. His powerful, master saliva soon worked it's preternatural magicks and the wounds began to heal. Angel watched as the skin actually knitted itself back together, before bending to his work once again. A small moan managed to escape Spike's lips and Angel knew that it wasn't a moan of pain.
"Sleep Will." Angel whispered.
"Spike." he replied tiredly.
"Spike." Angel amended. Satisfied with his work, he crawled over the slight form and crawled in next to him, prepared to play vigil for the rest of the night until he was satisfied his boy was safe. He picked up the lighter, discarded from Spike's lax hand and ran his finger over the engraved surface, watching the light play over the smooth metal.
Sunnydale, 1999
"You're an idiot Spike." Angel said, creeping into Giles' bathroom and undoing the chains.
"Sing me a new one." Spike glared at his sire and fastening on the proffered wrist. Angel rolled his eyes and fought against the reaction Spike's suckling was inducing. Now was really not the time.
"And you didn't come to me why?" Angel asked with adopted exasperation, "Instead you ran off to that blow up doll of yours."
"Oi! She's a good fuck. Had lots of experience back in high school she did." Spike nodded.
"I'm sure." Angel deadpanned, remembering the well endowed human Harmony, "You wandered around like a wraith for how many weeks."
"S'only three." Spike muttered, rubbing at his bruised wrists, "Here to take me back then?"
"No." Angel said flatly, "Once Giles lets you go you can look me up if you so choose. Right now, I think they may have use of you here. To stop those imbecile soldier-boys. They broke what was mine and I am not one to easily forgive."
"Always forgave me rather quick like." Spike smirked.
"That's because you have a very talented mouth." Angel's eyes twinkled. Angel checked over the arrow wounds and robe burns on Spike before moving forward. He paused when their lips were inches apart at hearing movement from the loft. The slow kiss Angel had intended turned into a quick peck and he stood.
"Remember Spike, look me up in LA, all right?" Angel asked. Spike nodded, and Angel fastened the manacles once more making sure they weren't as tight as they were before. He ruffled Spike's hair and disappeared shadow-like into the night.
"Bloody Batman." Spike muttered, trying to make himself comfortable while trussed up like the prized turkey the slayer had just cooked. Mind she didn't cook it all that well. Even Spike could tell.
Los Angeles, 2001
"You have slayer-stink all over you." Angel said, not looking up from where he was giving baby Connor his bottle.
"What? You can sleep with her but us lower beings can't." Spike muttered, walking into the room and crouching before Angel looking at the baby.
"Cute lit'le nibbler." Spike muttered, "Look nothin' like you. Lucky brat took after Darla in that department."
"Gee, thanks." Angel said rolling his eyes, "What are you doing here Spike?"
"Wanted to visit the new addition is what. Brought him a lit'le prezzie too." Spike held up the gift bag. He removed the artfully arranged tissue paper and presented Connor with a teddy bear. Connor gurgled happily. Angel smiled and gave the bear to the baby.
"Had one of them when I was a lad." Spike said, "Loved that thing. My mum kept it." Angel smiled.
London, 1863
He looked at his mother lovingly tucking the ragged teddy bear into a box. William did not need it any longer, not a seven. He was almost a young man now and he had to act like one. He was sorry to see it packed up in the old hatbox and put on the top shelf of his mother's wardrobe but he was not terribly sorry. A pretty lady had come to him today and told him what a golden boy he was going to become. He did not understand what she had meant, but perhaps he would publish one of his novels and be as famous as Charles Dickens. Or perhaps his poems would be bound in a collection and he would receive as much praise as Browning or Tennyson.
His mother patted his head and ushered him out of the room, he stumbled to keep in step, her strides quite longer than his.
"We have guest today William. A gentleman friend of your father and his daughter and mother. Perhaps his little girl is your age William and you shall have a little friend to entertain this evening as well." His mother told him. William swelled in delight at the thought of a friend. He only had one and he did not really count because he was William's cousin. But a friend all his own!
The man was waiting in the parlour talking to his father when he and his mother arrived. William's father smiled widely and took his wife's hand, pulling her to his side and ushering William to the other. William's father ruffled his curly hair and introduced the two to man.
"My daughter and mother." the man introduced holding his hand out as the ladies entered from the powder room where they had gone to freshen up. Both woman were young, but the daughter was not as young as William had expected. On second glance she looked exactly like the lady who had told him he was going to be golden. His jewel toned eyes widened comically and he skirted behind his mother.
"Oh. I see." his father nodded in understanding, "Was it sudden?"
"Terribly." the other man replied with affected sadness.
"Well there, there gent and all that. How about we retire to my study for a draught of brandy?" William's father suggested. The other man nodded, clapping William's father on the back and allowing the small man to lead the way.
"This is William." William's mother introduced proudly.
The dark lady, the man's daughter, crouched and touched William's nose with her finger, "We 'ave met before."
"Come Drusilla." the blond beckoned, "I am sure Mister Turner's wife has many things to show us." William's mother nodded.
"You run off and play now William." she told him, "Be a good lad and I shall call you down for supper."
William's father was found dead three days later, the contents of his purse stolen and deep unexplained wounds in his neck. Little William had not understood but had overheard his mother asking William's uncle and few of his cousins to run to the churchyard and be quick about it. She had handed out crosses to the men touching their cheeks.
Los Angeles, 2004
They looked across the field of ravaged demon bodies, the slain dragon still smouldering a few feet away. A blue glow hanging over them from when Illyria had combusted taking out what remained of the demons. Gunn's body had burnt along with it. Spike and Angel who had been standing behind the demon goddess had come off with only a slight concussion each. They were all that remained of the once proud Angel Inc. They looked at each other's eyes, neither commenting on the tears found there. Spike took one shaky step towards Angel, collapsing as he put pressure on a wounded knee. Angel after a few false starts made his way over to his childe, collapsing in pain as well. The leaned forward, all they could manage and rested their foreheads against one and other.
"And the world ended in a flash of evanescent light, crumbling to tinder as our two heroes lay crouched amidst the chaos, having no one but each other remaining."
"As dawn slowly crested the horizon they stared into the eyes of the other, wondering if finding the strength to move would be worth it in the end."
"Or finding that meeting the sun was the decision best suited for their fate."
"There're still people who need saving." Spike commented.
"Get someone else to do it?" Angel asked. The look in Spike's eyes was telling enough and with a kiss Angel made his decision.
The End