Angel was sitting at the kitchen island, sipping his third mug of blood.
Buffy and Spike . . . it was, well, it was. Given a choice between the
soldier and his grandchilde, he would take the latter. It wasn't any more
ridiculous than he and Cordelia, he guessed.
He looked up, "Spike."
"Ah, Peaches, you're looking particularly broody this morning," the blonde vampire smirked, striding over to the fridge. Upon opening it he saw one lone unopened pint left. "Bloody hell! Not used to sharing, are we?"
"Since I was the one who got it, I think I have a right to share or not."
"If you're going to be such a wanker about it, I'll go get my own," Spike slammed the fridge.
"Didn't feel like Slayer blood this morning?" Angel asked barely audible, the tone ever so reminiscent of Angelus.
~*~
Spike stood rigid. He should have known the pouf would be able to tell. He knew they'd have it out sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way now before Andrew or Warren or whoever decided to wreck havoc on them all. Knowing full well the consequences of what he was about to say, "She asked me to."
In an instant Angel had him pinned against the wall, "You lie."
"Because I enjoy seeing Angelus oh so much," Spike smiled grimly.
Angel released Spike as if he had been burnt.
"Why didn't you ask her yourself last night? Afraid she would tell you the truth?" Sometimes he couldn't help but ask for trouble. Spike felt a slight stab of guilt. Bloody conscience. It was the ponce's fault anyway. Had Angelus left Dru well enough alone, Spike never would have gotten chummy with the Slayer in the first place, and then . . . He was kidding himself if he didn't like the way things turned out.
Angel stood by the counter, hands grasping the edge as if it were a lifeline to his control. "You don't like to make things easy," he forced though clenched teeth.
Spike shrugged. Silence was the best defense at the moment. He'd seen Angel on the edge like that before. It never did bode well for the one who pulled him over. As much as Angel was loath to admit it, Angelus was always there, near the surface. Soul or no soul, true nature always fought to be on top. That was the reason Spike had tried to prove himself such a badass, keep William the Bloody at bay.
"If you hurt her . . ."
"Thanks for the warning, Granddad, but she can hurt back." The last part had come unbidden.
~*~
Angel looked at Spike, really looked at Spike for the first time in a long time. There was something different about the vampire. He'd been hurt deeply by Buffy that much was plain-and Angel was quite sure that it wasn't something Spike wanted him to know. But there was something else. Quite familiar, in fact.
"How long?"
Spike looked at him, slightly stunned. "About four months now."
Angel frowned. He should have know the instant he saw Spike again, but . . . well, naturally his mind was elsewhere. "I'm assuming no gypsies were involved."
"You'll get a kick out of this one: bloody sought it out for myself."
That took him back. Spike, of all vampires, voluntarily seeking out his soul. Any anger he had toward the other faded away. No vampire in his right mind wanted to get his soul back. It just wasn't the way things were.
"Probably think I'm nuttier than Dru, don't you?"
Chose to have his soul back, knowing full well all that came with it. How many times had Spike ragged on him . . .
"Wouldn't admit that to myself for some time after either. But that's why I went to Africa."
He had to be dreaming. There was no way he was standing here in Buffy's kitchen with Spike, the last creature on earth he ever wanted to be around, telling him outright that he wanted to get his soul back.
"I can tell you don't believe it."
"Frankly, Spike, I'm more baffled than anything. You wanted your soul back?"
"Was acting poncier than you without, figured I might as well seal the deal."
"It's that deep?"
~*~
The last question just hung there between them. Did he dare admit to Angel how much he had fallen? Oddly, it wasn't until Angel had asked that Spike finally realized how much he did love Buffy. Yeah, it had started out as an obsession, but an obsession wasn't based on nothing. If it had been just an obsession, Glory would have broke him in no time. Then Buffy had died and he had never felt a greater void. There was also Dawn. He cared for the girl because she was so important to Buffy and in spite of it. The soul was just a foregone conclusion. The attempted rape was his last chance to turn back the clock. But his true nature won out in the end. He wasn't heartless and unfeeling. The Big Bad act was just another role to hide behind. Hadn't he told the Slayer often enough to stop running.
"Guess I'm the bigger pouf, huh?" Spike smirked.
~*~
Angel was speechless for a moment. He loved Buffy, that was true, but would he have ever intentionally gotten his soul for that love? Probably not. Angelus and Angel were two sides of the same coin-the soulless and the souled-and though the twain could coexist, the one would never seek out the other. Angelus was capable of unbounded passion, but not love, never love. Maybe there was a piece of him that had always been innately evil. Only in his suffering upon receiving his soul had he developed into Angel; the soul gave him his humanity without which he was a monster.
Maybe that's why he and Spike had always clashed so much, Drucilla and egos aside. Spike, in the end, would always be the better man.
"Now what?" Angel finally spoke.
"You're asking me?" Spike laughed. "I figured we'd come to blows or something. But that doesn't seem to be happening at the moment."
"A truce?"
"I guess."
They stood there awkwardly for a moment.
"You wouldn't have stood a chance," Spike smiled knowingly.
"Still cocky in our youth, aren't we?" Angel smiled back.
"Senile in our old age? But I suppose I could kick your ass once more for old time's sake."
"I accept," Angel made his way to the basement, followed by Spike.
He looked up, "Spike."
"Ah, Peaches, you're looking particularly broody this morning," the blonde vampire smirked, striding over to the fridge. Upon opening it he saw one lone unopened pint left. "Bloody hell! Not used to sharing, are we?"
"Since I was the one who got it, I think I have a right to share or not."
"If you're going to be such a wanker about it, I'll go get my own," Spike slammed the fridge.
"Didn't feel like Slayer blood this morning?" Angel asked barely audible, the tone ever so reminiscent of Angelus.
~*~
Spike stood rigid. He should have known the pouf would be able to tell. He knew they'd have it out sooner or later. Might as well get it out of the way now before Andrew or Warren or whoever decided to wreck havoc on them all. Knowing full well the consequences of what he was about to say, "She asked me to."
In an instant Angel had him pinned against the wall, "You lie."
"Because I enjoy seeing Angelus oh so much," Spike smiled grimly.
Angel released Spike as if he had been burnt.
"Why didn't you ask her yourself last night? Afraid she would tell you the truth?" Sometimes he couldn't help but ask for trouble. Spike felt a slight stab of guilt. Bloody conscience. It was the ponce's fault anyway. Had Angelus left Dru well enough alone, Spike never would have gotten chummy with the Slayer in the first place, and then . . . He was kidding himself if he didn't like the way things turned out.
Angel stood by the counter, hands grasping the edge as if it were a lifeline to his control. "You don't like to make things easy," he forced though clenched teeth.
Spike shrugged. Silence was the best defense at the moment. He'd seen Angel on the edge like that before. It never did bode well for the one who pulled him over. As much as Angel was loath to admit it, Angelus was always there, near the surface. Soul or no soul, true nature always fought to be on top. That was the reason Spike had tried to prove himself such a badass, keep William the Bloody at bay.
"If you hurt her . . ."
"Thanks for the warning, Granddad, but she can hurt back." The last part had come unbidden.
~*~
Angel looked at Spike, really looked at Spike for the first time in a long time. There was something different about the vampire. He'd been hurt deeply by Buffy that much was plain-and Angel was quite sure that it wasn't something Spike wanted him to know. But there was something else. Quite familiar, in fact.
"How long?"
Spike looked at him, slightly stunned. "About four months now."
Angel frowned. He should have know the instant he saw Spike again, but . . . well, naturally his mind was elsewhere. "I'm assuming no gypsies were involved."
"You'll get a kick out of this one: bloody sought it out for myself."
That took him back. Spike, of all vampires, voluntarily seeking out his soul. Any anger he had toward the other faded away. No vampire in his right mind wanted to get his soul back. It just wasn't the way things were.
"Probably think I'm nuttier than Dru, don't you?"
Chose to have his soul back, knowing full well all that came with it. How many times had Spike ragged on him . . .
"Wouldn't admit that to myself for some time after either. But that's why I went to Africa."
He had to be dreaming. There was no way he was standing here in Buffy's kitchen with Spike, the last creature on earth he ever wanted to be around, telling him outright that he wanted to get his soul back.
"I can tell you don't believe it."
"Frankly, Spike, I'm more baffled than anything. You wanted your soul back?"
"Was acting poncier than you without, figured I might as well seal the deal."
"It's that deep?"
~*~
The last question just hung there between them. Did he dare admit to Angel how much he had fallen? Oddly, it wasn't until Angel had asked that Spike finally realized how much he did love Buffy. Yeah, it had started out as an obsession, but an obsession wasn't based on nothing. If it had been just an obsession, Glory would have broke him in no time. Then Buffy had died and he had never felt a greater void. There was also Dawn. He cared for the girl because she was so important to Buffy and in spite of it. The soul was just a foregone conclusion. The attempted rape was his last chance to turn back the clock. But his true nature won out in the end. He wasn't heartless and unfeeling. The Big Bad act was just another role to hide behind. Hadn't he told the Slayer often enough to stop running.
"Guess I'm the bigger pouf, huh?" Spike smirked.
~*~
Angel was speechless for a moment. He loved Buffy, that was true, but would he have ever intentionally gotten his soul for that love? Probably not. Angelus and Angel were two sides of the same coin-the soulless and the souled-and though the twain could coexist, the one would never seek out the other. Angelus was capable of unbounded passion, but not love, never love. Maybe there was a piece of him that had always been innately evil. Only in his suffering upon receiving his soul had he developed into Angel; the soul gave him his humanity without which he was a monster.
Maybe that's why he and Spike had always clashed so much, Drucilla and egos aside. Spike, in the end, would always be the better man.
"Now what?" Angel finally spoke.
"You're asking me?" Spike laughed. "I figured we'd come to blows or something. But that doesn't seem to be happening at the moment."
"A truce?"
"I guess."
They stood there awkwardly for a moment.
"You wouldn't have stood a chance," Spike smiled knowingly.
"Still cocky in our youth, aren't we?" Angel smiled back.
"Senile in our old age? But I suppose I could kick your ass once more for old time's sake."
"I accept," Angel made his way to the basement, followed by Spike.
