Veritas in Canticis
Angel watched in confusion as a familiar vampire climbed onto the karaoke stage in Caritas.
What the hell was Spike doing in L.A., let alone here? This was Angel's place. Spike had no right to be here.
But Angel couldn't deny that a small part of him was excited to hear Spike perform. It had always been one of the things Angelus loved about his "Dear Boy", that musical gift. Not that he admitted it – more likely he would beat him for the "weakness". But he had been enraptured by the sounds and the emotions that sweet William, and then Spike, was able to share.
Spike had always been a mystery, to Angelus and Angel. He was a vampire, yet even losing his soul had not been able to destroy the boy's basic ability to feel passionately. He was the only vampire either of them had ever known who could still love. That fact had made Angelus furious, since he couldn't beat it out of him. And it made Angel wary and jealous. Perhaps things would have been different if he had still been able to care for others after his turning.
Now, Spike shifted, pulling out a guitar, and adjusting the standing mic. He glanced over at Lorne, who watched curiously, then closed his eyes and began.
The opening chords were sad and quietly aching. And when he sang, his voice was equal parts despair and bitterness.
"I hurt myself today to see if I still feel. I focus on the pain, the only thing that's real.
"The needle tears a hole – the old familiar sting. Try to kill it all away, but I remember everything.
"What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end. And you could have it all; my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt."
The entire bar was silent, too focused on the gravelly voice and the surrender that the song spoke.
"I wear this crown of thorns upon my liar's chair, full of broken thoughts I cannot repair.
"Beneath the stains of time, the feelings disappear. You are someone else, I am still right here."
Those words hit Angel like a fist in the gut. It was true – people were constantly growing, changing, leaving. Meanwhile, Spike remained, much as he ever was. The greatest change in the boy had occurred after he had found Drusilla and Angel in bed together. He had grown hard. But in all the years since then, that character he had become had never seemed to change. He was sarcasm and rage, lust and love, evil when the mood hit, and uncaring when it didn't. He did things, not because he felt he needed to, instead because the whim took him. The essential core of Spike did not change.
"What have I become, my sweetest friend? Everyone I know goes away in the end. And you could have it all; my empire of dirt. I will let you down. I will make you hurt.
"If I could start again a million miles away, I will keep myself. I will find a way."
The song trailed off, and slowly Spike opened his pale eyes, aiming them at Lorne. And the look the horned demon wore made Angel's throat close up. He had never seen such pity in that gaze before.
As for Spike, when he took in the expression, he merely nodded, as though only hearing what he had expected all along, then stood, packed up his guitar, and headed calmly straight out the door.
A moment later, Lorne was turning and staring straight at Angel. "You could change it," he announced. "But you're the only one."
Angel flinched back, before standing and hurrying out into the night, trying to ignore the words that echoed in his head, along with the sound of his grandchilde's singing.
When he heard, less than a year later, that Spike had died saving the world, going out in a literal blaze of glory, he locked himself in his rooms for a day and cried.
end.
... ...
a/n Was listening to the Johnny Cash cover of Trent Reznor's song "Hurt" while writing this.