A/N: I realized the other night that I was having serious subtraction issues. If Spike was turned in 1880, and Angel left the gang as early as 1900, that's only twenty years as a group. I was saying stuff about a century. Heh. Just kidding. I don't know what I was thinking. (It felt like longer to him, all right?)
Ah! It gets so sappy! And this should have been up three days ago, but there were problems with the server. So, um, here goes:
Spike lay on top of the coffin, not having the state of mind to go downstairs. It was silent, sealed, as he was, inside the tomb. That was good. He let the silence echo through his mind, taking up the space he didn't want to take up with thinking.
He heard the movement a second before his door was thrown open, and was rolling to the ground before the cloaked figure was fully inside. Even as he hit the ground, landing in a fighting stance, he was already easing back up, having identified the intruder, by something that was not quite the intimate knowledge he had of Angel's smell, sounds, and movements. It was something a little more.
He got his first good look at the other vampire as he leaned against the door, pushing it closed, and almost grinned, despite his mood. While Spike was not above looking a little foolish every now and then, Angel just wasn't the type to go running around in daylight with his coat pulled over his head. He looked plain undignified. Spike settled for a smirk while Angel brushed off his duster, ignoring the smoke that rolled off him.
"It's not funny," he said crossly without looking up. "I almost combusted."
The smile dropped off Spike's face when the other spoke. "Come off it. What are you doing here?"
"There are vampires nesting in the mansion," he said calmly. "I needed someplace to stay." He slipped off his duster, walking farther into the crypt.
"Well I'm not a bloody boarding house!" he snapped, annoyed at Angel's sure manner. "If you want a safe house, go to Buffy's!"
"Also, we need to talk," he added as he dropped into Spike's easy chair.
That did it. Spike stalked over and tipped the chair backwards in one savage hurl. Angel did a neat flip back upright.
"First of all," he said hotly, "we do not need to talk. About anything. Second of all, this is my crypt. You can't walk in here like you own the bloody place. What you can do, is leave." He glared at Angel, breathing hard.
Angel studied him for a minute. If Spike had learned how to annoy Angelus, Angelus had also learned how to push Spike's buttons. And Angel remembered perfectly.
"What?" Spike yelled, uncomfortable under his gaze. "Get out, already!"
Angel leaned back against the wall, suddenly casual, and allowed his gaze to mercifully roam away from Spike. "You ever think about when we used to run together, the four of us?"
Spike snorted, still wary. "Not when I can help it, Peaches. You an' the Ice Bitch? Not on my list of favorite people. Dru an' I did better alone."
"Till she left you," he agreed mildly.
He caught the lightning punch Spike aimed at him easily, having been expecting it. He held his wrist for a moment as Spike glared at him, hatred plain in his eyes. Blue, though. Not gold. That interested Angel, but he put it aside for the moment. "The rest of us never left you," he said softly.
Those eyes flashed angrily at him. He'd forgotten how expressive the younger vampire was. "Yes, you did," he said evenly, and Angel could hear the singular you this time. "You got your soul, and then you left." His voice was low with accusation.
Angel released his wrist, and Spike jerked it away. "You blame me for leaving?" he asked quietly.
"I didn't say anything about blame," he said bitterly. "It was a simple statement."
"William, I-"
"Stop calling me that!" he cried, and for an instant Angel swore he saw tears in his eyes. Spike turned and stalked off a few steps before swinging around to face him again. "And, yes, it was your fault. Neither Dru or I had any great love for your girl, and she could have cared less for us. So Dru and I went off. Two people isn't much company for a hundred years."
"Are you still lonely?"
Spike glared murder at him. "What are you, a bloody shrink since you got your soul again?"
"It seemed an obvious question. You said you didn't have much company, I only wanted to know –"
"No. You know what? I'm fine. I don't need anyone else right now. Now go."
Angel looked at him, pokerfaced, feeling a small wash of pity inside. He was lying, he knew. And he wasn't even doing that good a job of it. "Buffy lets you hunt with her, but they don't let you in, do they? Granted, Xander's a moron, but Willow's not so bad, and- "
"I don't care about them."
"Yeah," he agreed softly. "But it hurts, doesn't it, when your own group wants to kill you."
Spike raised his head, glaring at him again. "Fine. You wanna play psych? I'll go. Why haven't you staked me already? Why are you still talking like I'm your soddin' childe, or any part of you anymore? You're lost, Angel. A hundred years of having your soul back, and you still don't know who you are. You pretend you're the good guy, you fight with them, but you're not really sure. So you leave. Then you set up your own shop in L.A. Pretend you know what you're doin', now. You don't. You come back here, an' see how confused you are? Don't know what you are to Buffy, don't know what to do with me. You don't know anything."
Angel kept his voice soft. "I know how it is to find people, or a person, and think you could fit in, but they don't." He watched Spike a moment, the other looking back, pretending he didn't care. "I know how it is when you're one person, but the group you're with can't see past who you were."
Spike looked stubborn. "I'm still bad," he said unconvincingly.
"Who said I was talking about you?" He waited patiently for a reaction, and almost smiled when he saw it in Spike's eyes. He was so easy to read.
Spike kept playing, though, and didn't answer right away. "That why you left us?"
Angel gave an unamused laugh. "You wouldn't have wanted me if you'd been able to see how I'd changed."
"True enough," he said easily. "But then, you never tried explaining to anyone but your honey. Ever think of telling me before you ran off for a hundred years?" Angel noted with satisfaction that he had finally gotten him to use the personal singular form.
"We were both different people then," he pointed out.
"Yeah. But not so different." There was still anger left in those eyes.
"I'm here right now, aren't I?" Angel asked pointedly.
"You're here for Buffy, not me. And I know full well you're leaving as soon as nightfall comes. So what's the point of all this?"
He hadn't known there was this much bitterness in the younger vampire. And he wasn't comfortable with the idea that he had caused it. Leaving that pack had been the one thing he had felt bad about that he hadn't also felt guilty over. He'd thought it was just his own reluctance to leave what had become his family. Hadn't realized until now that he hadn't been the only one hurt when he left the group. He hadn't really thought about the others, then. Darla could certainly take care of herself. And Dru might as well have been tied to Spike. He'd thought Spike would be fine, too. Who was he kidding? He hadn't thought of Spike – or the others – at all. Just that he couldn't do it anymore. And so he left. Hadn't stopped to think that when the patriarch left the family, and his mate wasn't a matriarch in any stretch of the word, the family collapsed. And no matter how old the children were, they were hurt.
His eyes softened as he gazed at the still-angry look on Spike's face. He understood all the clichés people used, suddenly, when they said their child would always be that to them: a child. He looked at Spike, and he saw his childe. Saw him when he was too young to even be called a fledgling, young and inexperienced and green as anything, and already wanting to change the world. Fearless, powerful, and ready for anything. Desperate to prove himself, throwing his heart into everything that he did, ignoring it if it didn't come out the way he wanted, pretending he already ruled the world, convincing most he did, anyway. And by simply walking away from him, Angelus had left the biggest score on the vampire's heart. It was a revelation.
"To tell you," he said, voice cracking a little, "that I'm sorry."
Spike's eyes clouded with suspicion. "For what?"
"That I left. Or that I didn't explain to you." How did Spike do it? Say what he felt like he did? It was the hardest thing Angel could do, was admit his feelings. How did his childe do it so easily?
"Even telling me would have been nice," he pointed out, not willing to accept the apology yet. "You want to remember me next time, why don't you add this apology to your list I know you're keeping somewhere?"
"I- I'm sorry I hurt you, William." Was that what he wanted? He was sorry about the whole mess, but he certainly wasn't helping him rectify it. And he had never forgotten about him.
Spike didn't say anything about being called William, this time. Just looked at his grand-sire. Or sire, as he'd always thought of him. What was he supposed to do? Angel would be leaving by night, anyway. Real time to make up before then. And the whole incident was long done. But not over, and not forgotten. Maybe that was the key. But he didn't want an apology. "I'm not givin' you absolution."
"I've never asked for it. Of anyone." And he had a long list of people he wanted to apologize to. Not that apology was enough. Nor was it in this case.
"What do you want?" His voice was heavy. "You came back here to talk. What do you want?"
"I wanted to find out about you. I needed to know who you are, now. Needed to see how you'd changed." Was he pleading? To Spike? He was telling the truth. It was all he could do, now.
"Then why the apology? Did you do this for you, Angel, one more thing off your chest? Or me?"
Angel blinked. And then, every now and then, his childe surprised him. "For us," he answered honestly. "Not for my conscience's sake, at least."
"Tell me the truth, Angel," he said, sounding angry again. "Did you think of me once in the last hundred years, until you saw me again in Sunnydale?"
"You were my childe, my family," he whispered. "I thought of you every day." He saw the tears form in Spike's fierce eyes. "Do you think it was easy to leave you? When I received my soul, it was the hardest thing I'd ever done not to run outside and let the sun raze me. You have no idea what it's like for a vampire with a soul to run with the most vicious pack in Europe. To hate myself for what I'd done, to hate myself for running with killers, and to be terrified to feel what I did without them. Leaving you was the hardest thing I'd ever done, even past just living with myself." He searched William's eyes. "I wanted to go back every night. Just to be with you, my family, the people I knew. I missed you." He swallowed. "I still miss you."
And that was it. It had taken their whole encounter to say it, but it was done. Spike looked ready to cry. "Me, too. You change packs, but… you never forget, huh?"
Angel just looked at him in silent agreement, gathering him in with his eyes. "No matter how many times you change packs… we're still family, Will."
"S'kinda hard to forget."
They watched each other for a minute, and moved at the same time towards each other in an embrace. They stood like that for a long time.
Finally, Spike stepped back, and the cocky look was back on his face. "You know if you call me William in front of the Slayer and her gang I will be forced to stake you."
Angel laughed. "Well if you hadn't picked a stupid name like Spike…"
"Oy! This is my blood I was going to offer you. Watch what you say about my choice of names." He turned and headed for his stash.
"Ever think you'd be a regular at the butcher's?" Angel inquired, righting the chair and dropping down into it again.
Spike tossed him a packet. "Not in my wildest dreams. But, you know, you can do a lot more with it this way."
Angel raised his eyebrows, tearing open the pack. "Such as?"
"Well, you know, straight out of the victim's good, but you can't add marshmallows that way."
Angel stopped drinking the blood. "Spike, that's so nasty I don't know what to say."
He grinned, and launched into a list of other things he'd tried in his blood. The remainder of the morning passed comfortably, and the day was spent in sleep.
A/N: Don't worry, there's one more chapter. See how my mind runs away with me? I meant this to be about Spike, and here most of it's Angel. I think. Whatever. Buffy in the next chapter! And thanks to everyone who's sent reviews. You guys make me keep posting, and push me to actually finish this stuff. Otherwise, I trail off and this would all have gotten lost in my mind, somewhere. Next chapter up soon!
