Angel blinked in surprise, not having considered that his claiming of Buffy
had lasted through her death, journey to heaven, and her subsequent
reincarnation. "Well, that's interesting," he mused.
"You think the fact that I'm going to kill you is interesting?" Spike yelled, enraged at being mocked.
"Um, what?" Angel asked, blinking again and looking at Spike. "Oh, ah, no. I think it is interesting that the claim survived her death."
"Yeah? Well, love is eternal, you bloody bastard," Spike responded bitterly. A few moments later he sank to the floor, feeling utterly defeated. "Then killing you won't help either," he sulked.
Angel also sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. "Not that I'm offering, but I don't suppose it would."
They sat for some time in silence, Spike feeling miserable that the Slayer would be emotionally trapped by Angel for an eternity, and Angel starting to brood that if only his soul was properly anchored to his body he could enjoy a lifetime of love with Buffy, and then, assuming he earned his redemption, an eternity joined with her in heaven. Night gave way to dawn, a bottle of Scotch was drunk between the two, and still silence reigned.
Then Spike's eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe you could transfer your claim to, you know, your most favored childe?" he asked hopefully.
Angel snorted. "Don't you think Drusilla would just kill her?" he asked.
Spike jumped to his feet in explosive anger. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed before throwing the empty bottle at the wall across the room, watching it shatter.
Angel sneered. "What, you meant you?" he asked his voice full of derision. "Even if you were my childe, you wouldn't be my favorite. I'm not so fond of you, and Angelus only put up with you to humor Drusilla."
"How can you say I'm not your childe?" Spike asked. "You're my bloody Sire!"
"I am not either!" Angel denied, jumping to his feet. "I Sired Dru, and Dru Sired you, so you are her childe, her responsibility, and not mine."
"You liar!" Spike accused. "You know bloody well that Dru totally botched up my bloody changing. It was your blood I first craved, your blood I always crave, and your f*cking blood I've never tasted since!"
Angel looked down at the younger vampire in surprise. "What?" he asked. "But, I told Dru I was turning you for her, and she fed you from her own veins during the turning…"
"After I drank from you," Spike pointed out angrily, "and even the blood that she fed me was your blood."
"Yes, well, I had just let her feed from me," Angel agreed, "but surely she transformed it to her own blood before she gave it to you…"
"Not bloody enough, she didn't," Spike responded.
"And you always clung to her," Angel continued to argue, "All those years, calling her the face of your salvation."
"Yeah, I loved her, and when you love someone you hang around," Spike countered, enjoying Angel's cringe at his not-so-veiled reference to Angel's relationship with Buffy. "And Dru was the face of my salvation. She was the one that first noticed me as William, she was the one that saw my potential, and she was the only one I could turn to when you rejected me!"
Angel sank back to the floor, horror showing clearly on his face. He clearly remembered the importance of the childe-Sire bond he had had with Darla in the years before he was cursed with his loosely anchored soul. He had played the part of the alpha male, pretending to be in charge of their group, and Darla had let him because it amused her, but he was always conscious that he be tough enough, cruel enough, to keep Darla happy with him. The psychological torture of his human victims, his obsession in driving Drusilla crazy before changing her, even the fateful episode with the gypsy girl, had been done to impress Darla, his Sire, his everything.
"Don't act all surprised, Angel," Spike growled. "You can't expect me to believe you didn't know…"
"But I didn't…"
"Oh, come on!" Spike exclaimed. "All the times I called you Sire, all the times I approached you for blood, the amused cruelty with which you denied me…" He broke off, slipping to the floor himself.
Angel sighed heavily, his eyes looking more tortured than they had only minutes before when he was brooding about Buffy. "Spike," he began, "it isn't all that uncommon to approach one's grand-Sire for blood, although it is typically a refused request. The Master denied me when I approached him, years before Drusilla was even born, and Darla always denied Drusilla. As for calling me Sire – you know how annoyed Darla would become at Dru's calling her Grand-mama? Well, I – Angelus – would have beaten the blood and snot out of you if you'd called me Grandpa, so of course you called me Sire." Angel paused, thinking, before he continued. "You mean, all those years, you and Dru never…"
"Oh, well, yeah, we fed off each other," Spike exclaimed, "but she was always like a sister to me. Well, a sister I had sex with for over a hundred years, but you know what I mean."
Angel closed his eyes wondering what his next course of action should be. His soul had no answers, so he relied instead on vampire instinct. He let him demon emerge and leapt upon Spike roughly. Spike's eyes widened in surprise but he offered no resistance as Angel grabbed him by his peroxide- blond curls, tilted his head to the side, and plunged his fangs into his throat. Spike gasped, first in pain and then in pleasure at this intimate recognition. Angel drank deeply and roughly as a Sire was expected to. Spike thought maybe he had died and gone to some sort of vampire-heaven when Angel pressed his own wrist to Spike's mouth. 'No wonder Buffy didn't want to leave heaven,' was Spike's last coherent thought before calling forth his demon and biting gently, reverently, into his Sire's wrist for the first time since his changing.
"You think the fact that I'm going to kill you is interesting?" Spike yelled, enraged at being mocked.
"Um, what?" Angel asked, blinking again and looking at Spike. "Oh, ah, no. I think it is interesting that the claim survived her death."
"Yeah? Well, love is eternal, you bloody bastard," Spike responded bitterly. A few moments later he sank to the floor, feeling utterly defeated. "Then killing you won't help either," he sulked.
Angel also sat on the floor, leaning back against the wall. "Not that I'm offering, but I don't suppose it would."
They sat for some time in silence, Spike feeling miserable that the Slayer would be emotionally trapped by Angel for an eternity, and Angel starting to brood that if only his soul was properly anchored to his body he could enjoy a lifetime of love with Buffy, and then, assuming he earned his redemption, an eternity joined with her in heaven. Night gave way to dawn, a bottle of Scotch was drunk between the two, and still silence reigned.
Then Spike's eyes lit up. "Hey, maybe you could transfer your claim to, you know, your most favored childe?" he asked hopefully.
Angel snorted. "Don't you think Drusilla would just kill her?" he asked.
Spike jumped to his feet in explosive anger. "Bloody hell!" he exclaimed before throwing the empty bottle at the wall across the room, watching it shatter.
Angel sneered. "What, you meant you?" he asked his voice full of derision. "Even if you were my childe, you wouldn't be my favorite. I'm not so fond of you, and Angelus only put up with you to humor Drusilla."
"How can you say I'm not your childe?" Spike asked. "You're my bloody Sire!"
"I am not either!" Angel denied, jumping to his feet. "I Sired Dru, and Dru Sired you, so you are her childe, her responsibility, and not mine."
"You liar!" Spike accused. "You know bloody well that Dru totally botched up my bloody changing. It was your blood I first craved, your blood I always crave, and your f*cking blood I've never tasted since!"
Angel looked down at the younger vampire in surprise. "What?" he asked. "But, I told Dru I was turning you for her, and she fed you from her own veins during the turning…"
"After I drank from you," Spike pointed out angrily, "and even the blood that she fed me was your blood."
"Yes, well, I had just let her feed from me," Angel agreed, "but surely she transformed it to her own blood before she gave it to you…"
"Not bloody enough, she didn't," Spike responded.
"And you always clung to her," Angel continued to argue, "All those years, calling her the face of your salvation."
"Yeah, I loved her, and when you love someone you hang around," Spike countered, enjoying Angel's cringe at his not-so-veiled reference to Angel's relationship with Buffy. "And Dru was the face of my salvation. She was the one that first noticed me as William, she was the one that saw my potential, and she was the only one I could turn to when you rejected me!"
Angel sank back to the floor, horror showing clearly on his face. He clearly remembered the importance of the childe-Sire bond he had had with Darla in the years before he was cursed with his loosely anchored soul. He had played the part of the alpha male, pretending to be in charge of their group, and Darla had let him because it amused her, but he was always conscious that he be tough enough, cruel enough, to keep Darla happy with him. The psychological torture of his human victims, his obsession in driving Drusilla crazy before changing her, even the fateful episode with the gypsy girl, had been done to impress Darla, his Sire, his everything.
"Don't act all surprised, Angel," Spike growled. "You can't expect me to believe you didn't know…"
"But I didn't…"
"Oh, come on!" Spike exclaimed. "All the times I called you Sire, all the times I approached you for blood, the amused cruelty with which you denied me…" He broke off, slipping to the floor himself.
Angel sighed heavily, his eyes looking more tortured than they had only minutes before when he was brooding about Buffy. "Spike," he began, "it isn't all that uncommon to approach one's grand-Sire for blood, although it is typically a refused request. The Master denied me when I approached him, years before Drusilla was even born, and Darla always denied Drusilla. As for calling me Sire – you know how annoyed Darla would become at Dru's calling her Grand-mama? Well, I – Angelus – would have beaten the blood and snot out of you if you'd called me Grandpa, so of course you called me Sire." Angel paused, thinking, before he continued. "You mean, all those years, you and Dru never…"
"Oh, well, yeah, we fed off each other," Spike exclaimed, "but she was always like a sister to me. Well, a sister I had sex with for over a hundred years, but you know what I mean."
Angel closed his eyes wondering what his next course of action should be. His soul had no answers, so he relied instead on vampire instinct. He let him demon emerge and leapt upon Spike roughly. Spike's eyes widened in surprise but he offered no resistance as Angel grabbed him by his peroxide- blond curls, tilted his head to the side, and plunged his fangs into his throat. Spike gasped, first in pain and then in pleasure at this intimate recognition. Angel drank deeply and roughly as a Sire was expected to. Spike thought maybe he had died and gone to some sort of vampire-heaven when Angel pressed his own wrist to Spike's mouth. 'No wonder Buffy didn't want to leave heaven,' was Spike's last coherent thought before calling forth his demon and biting gently, reverently, into his Sire's wrist for the first time since his changing.