Chapter 13: Trails
It hadn't been hard to follow the scent of his Childer once he had caught the trail of it in Buffy's room. He had finally caught up with him in a cemetery half way across town, the platinum vamp seeming to move forward with little purpose.
Angel moved ahead of him then, placing himself in Spike's path using the cover of a mausoleum to stay from sight. Spike for his part was oblivious. His anger was beginning to subside allowing the hurt to filter in. He just assumed the he had carried the scent of his Grandsire with him from Buffy's, *Gonna have to burn these clothes to get the Bloody smell out.*
That wasn't what he wished he could burn though. The image of them together was seared onto the back of his retinas. He would stop occasionally, closing his eyes and pressing the palms of his hands into the sockets, to try and release the pain. His curse was for his ears only as he tried to suppress the tears that threatened to fall. "Fuck." He shook it away, sucking a deep breath of unneeded air into his chest, willing the pain away. A small trail of tears following the curve of his cheek bone, reminding him that it wouldn't He wiped at the insolent droplets before continuing on. He took another dozen steps forward before a weight hit his chest and he was thrown back. *Bugger all.*
Angel launched a front kick out at Spike, landing it squarely in his chest, before advancing on him. Grabbing the lapels of Spike's jacket and hauling him up off his feet, the younger vampire making no move to fight back. "I want you out of Sunnydale, Spike, tonight, or so help me."
"You'll what?" The old sneer was back on Spike's face, but he still made no move to break free. "Dust me?" He knew it was tempting fate, but at the moment he didn't much care.
His thoughts were interrupted by a right hook across the face followed by a knee in the stomach. He balled over and groaned as Angel hauled him up vertical once more.
Angel had Spike pressed against the crypt wall, held up by the collar of his coat. His game face threatening to emerge as Spike scowled back at him, bringing his hands up and tossing Angel's arms from his coat. "Oh, Peaches, you always were one to make your point excessively." He pushed him away and moved from the wall a rant boiling to the surface
"Do you think I don't know who you are, who you really are?" With added venom in his voice: "Do you think I could ever forget? You have always been there, lurking in the shadows, or teaching me a lesson you swore I'd never forget. Well I didn't. I know you Angelus. I know the things you've done. Those things that you can barely live with now." He tapped the side of his own skull knowing how fresh the voices still were for him, "I've seen the real you, much more so then any of your little friends in LA, or Buffy for that matter. You trying to destroy the world killed her. Hrmph. If she only knew what you could really do when you got angry. I'll never forget though. You have always staked claim to anything that was mine. My life, Dru. . .He shook his head, looking down, lighting a cigarette. His icy eyes moved upwards, meeting Angel's. "Buffy."
Angel didn't even bother to try to stifle his growl, "Buffy has never been, and never will be yours, Spike." The name was spat out of the older vampire, the taste of it unsavory in his mouth. Who did this Childe think he was? Angel stalked closer, moving in to grasp the younger's throat, but stopped surprised at the look on Spike's face, the hand holding the burning cig, had dropped to his side, his heavy lidded eyes following it down, watching the ash fall to the ground. A look of pain on Spike's face, his eyes watery for just the briefest of moments, before he met Angel's gaze once more:
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that I have any misunderstandings as to what you mean to her? What I don't mean to her? Do you think I don't see it in her eyes? That hurt and lost expression, because I'm offering her everything she wants; only she doesn't want it from me." His hand was clutching his chest over his abused and unbeating heart. "It's like being under your fists again, I'll never escape you. I lost Dru because of you, I'll never have Buffy because of you, my life has been under your control one way or another since the day I died." He shrugs, dropping the cigarette and pressing it out with the toe of his boot. " 's about time that changed, don't cha think?"
Angel was caught off guard by the seemingly truthful confession of the often irritating, but brutally honest blonde vamp. He checked himself, the urge to defend his actions strong, to point out that Spike never would have had Dru, never would have met Buffy, he thought with a snort. Hell, he wouldn't even still be around if not for Angel. The realization of it all hit Angel then. Ever since he had gotten his soul back (all three times) he had felt sorry for what he had done to Drusilla. For what he had made her turn into, he didn't merely kill her and turn her. He tortured her, drove her mad. All for his own pleasure and devices. But he had not once felt any shred of remorse for Spike, save wishing he had dusted the vampire moments after his turning.
But this. This was unexpected. This was surprising. *But isn't he always? Hasn't he always surprised you? Never a dull moment with him around. Made unlife a living hell, drove me nearly as crazed as Dru from time to time, but that was one thing Spike's always been good at, isn't it?* Angel's demon acquiesced to that, noticing for the first time on his own that what Buffy had said was true. The bastard really did have a soul. *Why?* "Why?"
Spike chortled at that, "Why should I get myself out from under your bleedin' thumb? You've always been a bit thin 'tween the ears Peaches, but I'd of figured even you could of sussed that one out." He pushed off from the crypt he had begun leaning against, not wanting to be bothered any more.
Angel wasn't even fazed, the idea that Spike actually had a soul ceasing and desisting any and all other thought trains from getting through. He merely shook his head, his eyes fastened on the back of the blonde figure as he moved away. "No, not that. Why the soul?"
Spike stopped. His feet suddenly rooted to where he stood. His head sunk, his thin fingers playing with the leather of his coat. His voice inaudible to those without a vampires' amplified sense of hearing: "Do you even need to ask?"
No, he didn't.
"Buffy."
A smile tinged Spike's lips, not that Angel would ever see. "Always."
"How?"
"Jumped through a few flaming hoops, came out all souled up and a tweeny bit singed on the sides." He moved off again not halting this time, "Not as empty headed as I thought you were. . ."
Angel let him go, his mind reeling. Not so much from the fact that he was no longer the only souled vampire in the world, although he was sure Wesley would be intrigued by that. But more from the knowledge that Spike had gotten the soul of his own accord. . . for Buffy.
It hadn't been hard to follow the scent of his Childer once he had caught the trail of it in Buffy's room. He had finally caught up with him in a cemetery half way across town, the platinum vamp seeming to move forward with little purpose.
Angel moved ahead of him then, placing himself in Spike's path using the cover of a mausoleum to stay from sight. Spike for his part was oblivious. His anger was beginning to subside allowing the hurt to filter in. He just assumed the he had carried the scent of his Grandsire with him from Buffy's, *Gonna have to burn these clothes to get the Bloody smell out.*
That wasn't what he wished he could burn though. The image of them together was seared onto the back of his retinas. He would stop occasionally, closing his eyes and pressing the palms of his hands into the sockets, to try and release the pain. His curse was for his ears only as he tried to suppress the tears that threatened to fall. "Fuck." He shook it away, sucking a deep breath of unneeded air into his chest, willing the pain away. A small trail of tears following the curve of his cheek bone, reminding him that it wouldn't He wiped at the insolent droplets before continuing on. He took another dozen steps forward before a weight hit his chest and he was thrown back. *Bugger all.*
Angel launched a front kick out at Spike, landing it squarely in his chest, before advancing on him. Grabbing the lapels of Spike's jacket and hauling him up off his feet, the younger vampire making no move to fight back. "I want you out of Sunnydale, Spike, tonight, or so help me."
"You'll what?" The old sneer was back on Spike's face, but he still made no move to break free. "Dust me?" He knew it was tempting fate, but at the moment he didn't much care.
His thoughts were interrupted by a right hook across the face followed by a knee in the stomach. He balled over and groaned as Angel hauled him up vertical once more.
Angel had Spike pressed against the crypt wall, held up by the collar of his coat. His game face threatening to emerge as Spike scowled back at him, bringing his hands up and tossing Angel's arms from his coat. "Oh, Peaches, you always were one to make your point excessively." He pushed him away and moved from the wall a rant boiling to the surface
"Do you think I don't know who you are, who you really are?" With added venom in his voice: "Do you think I could ever forget? You have always been there, lurking in the shadows, or teaching me a lesson you swore I'd never forget. Well I didn't. I know you Angelus. I know the things you've done. Those things that you can barely live with now." He tapped the side of his own skull knowing how fresh the voices still were for him, "I've seen the real you, much more so then any of your little friends in LA, or Buffy for that matter. You trying to destroy the world killed her. Hrmph. If she only knew what you could really do when you got angry. I'll never forget though. You have always staked claim to anything that was mine. My life, Dru. . .He shook his head, looking down, lighting a cigarette. His icy eyes moved upwards, meeting Angel's. "Buffy."
Angel didn't even bother to try to stifle his growl, "Buffy has never been, and never will be yours, Spike." The name was spat out of the older vampire, the taste of it unsavory in his mouth. Who did this Childe think he was? Angel stalked closer, moving in to grasp the younger's throat, but stopped surprised at the look on Spike's face, the hand holding the burning cig, had dropped to his side, his heavy lidded eyes following it down, watching the ash fall to the ground. A look of pain on Spike's face, his eyes watery for just the briefest of moments, before he met Angel's gaze once more:
"Do you think I don't know that? Do you think that I have any misunderstandings as to what you mean to her? What I don't mean to her? Do you think I don't see it in her eyes? That hurt and lost expression, because I'm offering her everything she wants; only she doesn't want it from me." His hand was clutching his chest over his abused and unbeating heart. "It's like being under your fists again, I'll never escape you. I lost Dru because of you, I'll never have Buffy because of you, my life has been under your control one way or another since the day I died." He shrugs, dropping the cigarette and pressing it out with the toe of his boot. " 's about time that changed, don't cha think?"
Angel was caught off guard by the seemingly truthful confession of the often irritating, but brutally honest blonde vamp. He checked himself, the urge to defend his actions strong, to point out that Spike never would have had Dru, never would have met Buffy, he thought with a snort. Hell, he wouldn't even still be around if not for Angel. The realization of it all hit Angel then. Ever since he had gotten his soul back (all three times) he had felt sorry for what he had done to Drusilla. For what he had made her turn into, he didn't merely kill her and turn her. He tortured her, drove her mad. All for his own pleasure and devices. But he had not once felt any shred of remorse for Spike, save wishing he had dusted the vampire moments after his turning.
But this. This was unexpected. This was surprising. *But isn't he always? Hasn't he always surprised you? Never a dull moment with him around. Made unlife a living hell, drove me nearly as crazed as Dru from time to time, but that was one thing Spike's always been good at, isn't it?* Angel's demon acquiesced to that, noticing for the first time on his own that what Buffy had said was true. The bastard really did have a soul. *Why?* "Why?"
Spike chortled at that, "Why should I get myself out from under your bleedin' thumb? You've always been a bit thin 'tween the ears Peaches, but I'd of figured even you could of sussed that one out." He pushed off from the crypt he had begun leaning against, not wanting to be bothered any more.
Angel wasn't even fazed, the idea that Spike actually had a soul ceasing and desisting any and all other thought trains from getting through. He merely shook his head, his eyes fastened on the back of the blonde figure as he moved away. "No, not that. Why the soul?"
Spike stopped. His feet suddenly rooted to where he stood. His head sunk, his thin fingers playing with the leather of his coat. His voice inaudible to those without a vampires' amplified sense of hearing: "Do you even need to ask?"
No, he didn't.
"Buffy."
A smile tinged Spike's lips, not that Angel would ever see. "Always."
"How?"
"Jumped through a few flaming hoops, came out all souled up and a tweeny bit singed on the sides." He moved off again not halting this time, "Not as empty headed as I thought you were. . ."
Angel let him go, his mind reeling. Not so much from the fact that he was no longer the only souled vampire in the world, although he was sure Wesley would be intrigued by that. But more from the knowledge that Spike had gotten the soul of his own accord. . . for Buffy.