Putting the Question
By Melissa(dettiot@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox owns them all. I'm just having some fun with them.
Summary: Set a year from Destiny, let's find out why Spike's still in LA, making friends and building a new life for himself.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to Cindy and Miriam for their help, and to Mezz for the fantabulous beta.
Text with // indicates a flashback sequence.
"I don't know Who - or what - put the question, I don't know when it was put. I don't even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer *Yes* to Someone - or Something - and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal." Dag Hammarskjold
"If I tell you I'm in love with you, I'm telling you something about me. It's about how I feel about you, how you make me feel. It's about the way I feel when you're there, and the way I feel when you're not.
If I tell you I love you, I'm telling you something about you." the_royal_anna's LJ
Putting the Question
Chapter 1
Spike had never been one to deny that unlife could be pretty damn good. Prior to his years in Sunnydale, he'd almost never thought about the drawbacks, only the perks. He could have anything he craved, anyone he wanted. Of course, he had only really wanted Dru. Thought they'd be together forever. She was the first woman in his life, and he thought she'd be the only.
But even from the beginning, she had seemed to know that a time would come when he wouldn't be hers anymore. She loved him in her simple, crazy way, but it hadn't been enough for him.
Of course, the fact that she also loved Angelus could have had something to do with that.
So, unless he thought of such niggling facts as his sire's dependence and desire for her sire, he had been pretty happy. He had good times, dancing through carnage and death with his wicked plum at his side.
Yes, life as a vampire could be good. He'd needed to remind himself of that fact during his last two years in Sunnydale when he had started feeling old, started realizing for the first time how many years he had survived on this planet. He felt tired, and out of touch, something he had never felt since the night he'd been reborn. Not even staking his mother had taken so much out of him.
But it was understandable. That had been a clean break, and he had quickly buried the events deep down. But those years in Sunnydale, there had been nothing clean or forgotten about those dark days. He had been forced to look at all the things he had done, and see all the ways that he was unnatural. See how existence wasn't the best thing since warm blood. And the very thing he craved was that which made him suffer all the more.
Spike sighed, and turned around in his desk chair to look out the window. The special glass in the windows of Wolfram & Hart's Los Angeles office meant he could enjoy sunshine without worrying about the nasty side effects. Yet it couldn't compare to actually being outside, feeling the warmth on his skin, like he had with the Gem of Amara.
Like the warmth he had felt with Buffy.
Spike jumped up from his chair, and stalked out of the small office that Angel had finally deigned to grant him. He wasn't about to sit around brooding just because it was the anniversary of the day he had appeared in Angel's office, popping out of that bloody amulet like some demented Athena.
He chuckled a bit at the image of himself springing forth from Angel's head, like in the Greek myth, as he made his way to the workout facility that was set up on the tenth floor. It was officially for all W&H employees, but it had long ago been taken over by Spike, and was his second office. He took in a deep breath as he entered the room, letting his worries drop off his shoulders like the weight of the duster he took off at the same time. Then, with the grace born of over a century's worth of fighting, he began moving.
Punches, kicks, spins and leaps. He ranged across the mats, letting himself think only about the next move he was going to make. You couldn't be distracted when you were fighting, or you got hurt.
Or even worse, someone else got hurt.
***
//He had finally conceded that he might as well be part of the team. It was galling to do, but he wanted his spot of violence, and he was tired of always protesting that he didn't want to help. It was hard to keep insisting that he didn't care about Angel's little inner circle, but he couldn't deny what was clear to everyone: he had friends. For the first time ever, he really had friends.
Fred, the scientist with the cute noggin, and even more amazingly, sympathy for everyone, even him. Wesley, who saw the world in the same shades of grey that he did and offered a unique kind of comfort to Spike. Gunn, his drinking buddy and poker partner. Even Lorne was all right, as long as he didn't make Spike sing.
Spike was even starting to get along with Angel, and if that wasn't a sign that he was part of the crew, he didn't know what did.
So, he had stopped his complaining, and had made overtures to Angel that he'd be willing to help with cases. Angel, after some distrust, had grudgingly agreed to let Spike assist the team with the firm's latest client, some two-bit demon with too many connections and too many evil ideas. It should have been a piece of cake.
Roverall demons were notoriously bad at hand-to-hand combat, so he'd been sure that between Angel, Gunn, and himself, they'd be able to take the guy out, especially with Fred and Wesley as back-up. Yet Roveralls were also known for being smarter than they were given credit for. So, they'd been caught off guard when a dozen Ck'FivNins had come out of the woodwork and started attacking. But he'd just dived in and started fighting, ignoring Angel's half-heard shout for everyone to get out of the building.
And while he was being all fists and fangs, one of the Ck'FivNins had grabbed Wes and proceeded to beat him to a pulp.
He had realized something was wrong when he took care of the last demon, because it was too quiet. Too quiet, except for Wes' moans. For stoic Wesley to moan, he knew it was very bad. And all he could think about was the fact that he had let one of his friends get hurt.
Spike had felt the numbness settle over him. He looked around, until his eyes landed on the Roverall, crouching against a wall.
He strode over and yanked up the short little demon. He glared at the creature, unable to say anything, and then he realized he was punching the demon, clawing at him, tearing him to shreds. He kept going, until a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, managed to make him pause.
"Spike, stop. I need you to take care of Fred."
It was only because it was Angel, and because he mentioned Fred, that Spike was able to stop systematically destroying the Roverall. He dropped the remains to the floor, and rested his forehead against the wall for a moment, trying to collect himself. Then, he pushed away, and turned to face Angel.
Angel looked at him, without expression, and then said, "Take Fred back to the office. Gunn and I'll get Wes to the hospital."
Spike nodded, and took Fred's hand. She didn't squirm at all, despite his hand being covered in guts and blood. They made their way back to W&H, where he had attacked the punching bag till his own blood mixed with the Roverall's. Then, he had gone to Fred, and she had helped him clean his hands, and had held his now-clean hand as he had let his feelings out.
And he realized that this was what friends did. Held your hand when you were ready to start crying out of anger and guilt and sorrow. Before this, Dawn was the closest thing to a friend that he had, but he'd never felt like he could do this with her. Couldn't drop the Big Bad image then, could he? Especially since she was so young, and she needed him to be strong, to protect her. But now, he didn't have to worry about protecting anyone.
So he let his friend help him.//
***
That incident had been a turning point. Spike paused in his workout, and took a sip from a water bottle, as he pondered the way he had embraced the new friends he'd found. They had accepted him in ways the Scoobies had never even attempted. He had needed their support at that time; Angel and he were at each other's throats constantly over their history and the Shanshu prophecy. Fred in particular was a godsend in dealing with the anger and frustration he felt about Angel, as well as the rejection he felt.
Gradually, he had been able to see each of them in their own lights. Wes was great to watch football with, and had a fondness for a good drink. Gunn was the one to go out with when you just wanted to party and get hammered. Lorne and he could swap stories about demons in the entertainment business for hours.
Yet he couldn't seem to talk to Angel without starting a fight. He knew it bothered Fred, and the others weren't happy that the two vampires could barely work together. They could focus on the work for the bare minimum of time needed to accomplish the goal, but then they'd be back to insults and punches.
It was almost like a repeat of his relationship with Buffy. Spike snorted, and went over to the punching bag, not bothering to tape his hands.
Sometimes he liked the pain.
***
//"What the hell were you thinking?" Angel said through gritted teeth. "I told you to follow Nega to the warehouse and then watch the exits. I didn't say anything about crashing a ritual that had seventeen Sw'Ali demons participating!"
Spike wiped some of the blood out of his eyes and glared at his grandsire. "And I told you, if I had waited for the rest of you, the victims would have been killed. I made the call, Angel, and if you can't accept that, then I'm not going to keep wasting my time."
"Your time? You've been nothing but a waste of time and space since the day Drusilla brought you to our hotel. I should have staked you then."
"Maybe you should have! That would have been the only time you could have taken me--when I was fresh out of the ground!" Spike's voice was loud and echoed off the walls of the alley where the two vampires stood. He moved closer to Angel, his body language confrontational. "After all, you've slowed down with age. Can't quite cut it anymore, can you, gramps?"
With a snarl, Angel threw a punch at Spike. Spike dodged, and laughed as his fist connected with Angel's face. "Come on, Angel, show me how you know so much more than I do. Show me how you're better than me, faster than me, stronger than me. Oh, wait," he said, as he knocked Angel to the ground. "You're not any of those things, are you?" He smirked at Angel, who lay on the ground at his feet. He felt such power now, knowing that he could beat Angel. After decades of never winning, he knew he could take Angel.
Angel coughed, and spit some blood out of his mouth and onto his shirt. "Sure, Spike. Whatever you say. You da man." His voice was mocking and ironic.
Spike growled, and bent over and grabbed Angel by the lapels of his jacket. "What will it take for you to bloody respect me?" he yelled, before he pulled Angel up and slammed him against a wall. "Why can't you admit that I'm just as good as you are?" He threw another punch, but Angel's palm caught his fist.
Angel's face was passive as he began speaking. "You were a scrap of a man before Dru turned you, but you were more alive, more human, than any vampire should be. And I hated you for that."
Spike started in surprise at Angel's words. "You always mocked me for associating with the food. For worrying about Dru so much. For jumping into the middle of a mob."
Angel shrugged. "It wasn't in my nature to do any of those things. And I envied you for it, because you made things look so simple. Even before I got my soul back, I always wanted to kick your ass. I had to stay angry so I wouldn't be jealous."
Spike dropped his hands from Angel's coat, and took two steps back. "But you had everything I wanted," he said, his voice incredulous. "You were the top of the mountain. You had Darla, and all you had to do was crook your pinky at Dru and she'd leave me and go running to you. You were feared by vampires in every place we visited. No one wanted to be on your bad side."
"Except you," Angel said with a grimace as he pushed off from the wall. He walked over and stood by Spike.
"Yeah, funny, isn't it?" Spike said, still trying to adjust to the idea that Angel envied him.
"Well, I blamed it on your hair. The bleach, you know."
Spike looked at Angel in confusion. "I didn't bleach my hair till 1974!"
"Huh," Angel said. "Well, it was definitely your hair that made you different." With that non-sequitor, Angel walked down the length of the alley to the street. He paused, and called back to Spike, "You coming?"
Spike stared at his feet, still trying to come to grips with everything. He realized Angel had spoken, and quickly moved to catch up with him. "Yeah, I'm coming."
They stood in silence for a moment, waiting to cross the street, and then Spike said quickly, "Not my fault my hair didn't hang around like spaghetti. What was up with that look, anyway?"
"Hey, now, Darla loved it."
Spike snorted. "Darla, oh yeah, there's a real arbitrator on fashion for you. What about those kimonos she insisted on wearing anytime we were in Asia? Made her stick out even more with the blonde hair and all."
Their voices faded as they walked towards Angel's car, snarking about hair and clothes and their shared history, not realizing that they had taken the first step towards a new relationship.//
***
"Yo, bleach boy."
Gunn's voice pulled Spike's concentration from his sparring. He turned and favored him with a grin. "Seeing as how I know you're jealous of my hair, I'll overlook that comment."
Gunn rubbed his hand over his head, which he'd recently shaved after losing a bet with Spike. "Yeah, jealous. Right."
Spike walked over and grabbed a towel, rubbing the sweat off his face. "Got something going on tonight, Charlie boy?"
"Other than knocking back a few beers to celebrate your return to unlife, nope."
Spike raised an eyebrow at Gunn, and the other man laughed. "Don't tell me you thought I wouldn't know about how you were brooding in your office, and as soon as you realized what you were doing, you came down here."
"Don't you have some demon widow out there to put in the poorhouse, instead of spying on good employees like yours truly?" Spike complained.
"Not when you are the good employee in question. Come on, there's a deep-fried onion that's calling our names."
"Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and we're off."
Gunn nodded and ambled out of the room. Spike finished toweling off, and headed for the small bathroom that was attached to the gym, first grabbing a change of clothes out of the closet.
A little drinking, a little conversation, was just what he needed to take his mind off his thoughts. It must have been the anniversary, he pondered, making him think about Buffy. No one around here would let him forget her, so it wasn't like she was ever that far from his thoughts, but there were days he was able to not think about her at all. But that never ended well.
***
//It had been a week from hell, full of clients who wanted vampire blood for their dark rituals, a spell to cleanse the smell of yak urine out of carpets, or a date for the Oscars. Spike shuffled his way into Angel's office and collapsed on the sofa, letting out a groan.
"That kind of day for you, too?" Angel commented, looking up from a file.
"More that kind of week," Spike commented dryly. "Please tell me that Bronte called you and said everything was a go for tomorrow."
Angel nodded. "Ritual is a go. Of course, they won't know it's gonna backfire until the end, but they're satisfied, and after they use that booby-trapped spell, they won't be coming back to us to complain about our product."
"Brilliant," Spike said, and let his eyes close. "What day is today? Of the month, I mean. I've been working so much, I've lost track."
"Are you trying to say I'm a slave-driver, or that you deserve a raise?"
Spike opened one eye and looked at Angel. "To get a raise, I'd need to be paid something first. But a definite yes to the whole slave-driver thing."
"I'm the boss. Can't make exceptions for family," Angel said with a touch of dark humor.
"Family?" Spike said, feeling a bit surprised. Angel wasn't one to toss around that term lightly, and especially not considering him.
Angel shrugged. "Just been thinking about it lately."
Spike looked at Angel again, wondering what directions his mind was taking, but he let the moment pass. "Yeah. The date?" he prodded Angel.
Angel glanced at his desk calendar. "It's the 21st."
"The 21st," Spike mumbled under his breath. "That sounds familiar . . . " Suddenly, he realized what today was, and he sat up quickly.
"What is it?" Angel asked curiously. Then, his own eyes widened. "Buffy's birthday."
Spike nodded. "Yep. Completely forgot until now. Slayer's made it to 23. Breaks her old record for being the oldest Slayer still working." He looked down at his shoes. "Not that we know if she's still working."
A thick silence fell between them. They hadn't talked about Buffy since that no-holds-barred fight over the Cup of Infernal Dew, as Spike had dubbed it in his head. But each of them knew that Buffy had not contacted the other one. None of the Sunnydale gang, in fact, were in contact with them. Even Wes had expressed surprise that Giles hadn't returned his phone calls about the potential re-creation of the Watcher's Council. It was almost like their existence had been wiped out, along with the town.
But lack of contact didn't mean that Spike didn't think about Buffy. Didn't wonder what she was doing at this very moment, where she was. Whether she ever thought about him. And he was pretty sure that Angel wondered the same thing. And for that very reason, they had chosen not to jeopardize the relationship they had slowly started building by talking about the woman they both loved.
Angel cleared his throat. "I wonder if she's had a good birthday."
Spike snorted. "Knowing the Slayer, it's unlikely. She didn't even celebrate the last one. Said with everything that was going on with the First, she didn't want the chaos that her birthday inevitably brought." He suddenly remembered how Buffy's string of bad birthdays had begun, and he closed his eyes in guilt. Yeah, sure, he hated Angel most of the time, but he knew the feeling of loving yet not having Buffy. "Angel . . ." he said, his voice regretful.
"Forget it," Angel said, standing up from his chair. He started shoving papers into folders, giving the appearance of someone cleaning off his desk at the end of a long day. But Spike could see the tension in his shoulders.
"Angel."
The other vampire stopped, and turned to look at Spike. "What?" he said icily.
"You still haven't forgiven yourself for losing your soul, have you?" Spike asked, already knowing the answer. "That's as bad as not having Buffy, right? The knowledge that you could cause her that much pain, and it was all your fault . . ."
"Don't need a recap, Spike. I was there, you know," Angel said angrily.
"Yeah, you were. You still are, even now. Even when Sunnydale's nothing more than a big hole in the ground."
"Like you're one to talk," Angel muttered. "You think Buffy's out there, waiting for you? News flash, William. She's not pining away after you. No more than she is for me."
Spike rose from the sofa, feeling the instinctive anger flare up. But he'd learned when to control the anger instead of giving in to the urge to bait Angel further. He strolled over and leaned against the wall, looking at his grandsire. "No, I don't expect Buffy to be carrying a torch for me. We were . . . friends, I guess, by the end. But I know she didn't love me. Not like she loved you, much as I hate to say it," he said with a groan. "Yet you left her, because you couldn't deal with the temptation, the memories."
Angel sighed, and stood next to Spike against the wall. "And your point is?"
Spike shrugged. "I stayed around. Kept coming back for more, because I had to be near her, you know? No matter what pain she dished out. And it was worth it--every moment I spent with her was worth it." He stopped talking for a moment, trying to arrange his thoughts. "But now, she's living the normal girl life, and I'll most certainly never be normal. So, it looks like me and you are gonna be stuck together for a while." Spike paused. "I'm trying to figure out how you do it."
"How I do what?"
Spike shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Live without her."
Angel pushed away from the wall, and headed towards the elevator to his apartment. He pushed the button, the doors opened with a soft whoosh, and Angel stepped inside. But before the doors closed, Angel said, "I don't."//
***
Spike stepped out of the shower, drying off and getting dressed quickly. Thoughts of his "birthday" had reminded him of the conversations Angel and he had slowly begun having after their talk on Buffy's birthday. More often than not, one of them stomped away, or even threw an occasional punch to end the conversation. But before that happened, each of them had begun to learn more about the other. They were finally getting to the point where they could co-exist together, semi-peacefully.
Amazing how you could get along with someone, when that someone wasn't constantly belittling you or ignoring you.
Plus, it helped to have the rest of the gang on his side occasionally during the fights that Angel and he had. Always nice to see Angel getting laid into by his own employees. He still laughed over the time Lorne had started humming "Mandy" during one of Angel's rants. Angel had stopped mid-word, and Wesley and Gunn had burst into whoops of laughter. Fred had started giggling to the point where she could hardly breathe. And Spike had just sat back and enjoyed it all.
He chuckled to himself as he headed upstairs to meet up with Gunn. But when he entered the lobby, he was shocked to find it full of people. He stood just inside the doorway, amazed to see half the company there, as well as several of L.A.'s best demons.
"Nice of you to be nearly on time to your birthday party," Gunn said with a slap on Spike's shoulder.
"What the bloody hell is all this?" Spike asked in surprise.
Gunn gave him a long look. "Birthday party. You've never told anyone when your birthday was when you were human, or even the day you were turned. Angel wouldn't tell, either. So Fred and I put our heads together and decided to make today your birthday."
Spike shook his head in amazement. "Why would you do something like that for me?"
"Other than an excuse to party on Angel's dime? Because you deserve it." With that, Gunn moved away, going to mingle with some of his cronies from the Urban Intervention Department.
Spike couldn't help just looking around, wondering how in the world he had gotten here. Why he had people that seemed to care about him. Didn't seem right. Not what he was used to.
"You look a bit surprised," Angel commented as he pressed a mug into Spike's hand.
Spike drank, barely tasting the blood, before speaking. "Surprised is an understatement."
"Fred's idea, really. She recruited Gunn, and they went to town, as you can see," Angel said.
"Don't know why they bothered," Spike said. "No one else ever has."
"I believe that's why I encouraged them to go ahead when the two of them asked me about how you'd feel about the idea."
"What?" Spike said, turning to Angel.
Angel looked at Spike for a moment, his expression blank but meaningful just the same. "Happy birthday, Spike."
Spike didn't know what to say, so he glanced down at his boots, and then looked out at the crowd. "Been a hell of a year," he said finally, realizing how far he had come in such a short time. For a vampire, a year was a blink of an eye. Taking stock of your life wasn't done, really, so birthdays became meaningless pretty quickly. But Spike thought that vampires were missing out by not indulging in such events. Why not celebrate another year of unlife, another year that you'd avoided death?
Besides, presents were bloody fabulous.
Ignorant of Spike's thoughts, Angel responded to Spike's last statement. "Never would have guessed you'd make it," he said. "If nothing else, I'd have expected you to go chasing after Buffy."
Spike sighed. "I'm not sure about that, myself."
He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Angel whip his head around to stare at Spike. "What?"
Spike gazed out at the people dancing, laughing, talking to their friends. Before he spoke, he grabbed a beer from a passing waiter, and took a long swig. "She hasn't been in touch with either of us. She had Giles call the love of her life to tell him that she'd made it through another apocalypse, all 'don't call me, I'll call you.'" Spike sighed. "I'll love the girl till I'm dust. But that's what she thinks I am, right now. So I think I'm learning how to live without her."
He could sense Angel trying to find words, and true to form, Angel reverted to cliches. "It's probably for the best. It's easier that way."
"Never said it was easy, mate," Spike ground out. He sighed. "I could find her, yeah. And I could follow her around again, being faithful old Spike, pet vampire. I don't have any prophecies or magical mystical surprises waiting for me at the end of the road--I'm only responsible for myself. So there's nothing stopping me." He took a deep breath, if only to make himself be calm enough to say the next sentence. "Nothing stopping me, except me."
Angel opened his mouth, getting ready to speak, when his secretary's shrill voice halted his words.
"Oh, Spikey!" She threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I know that vampires don't celebrate birthdays, but happy birthday!"
"Thanks, Harm," Spike said, his voice a mixture of sincerity and irritation.
"It was my idea to have the party here. We haven't had one since Halloween."
"Well, most people who were at that party didn't want to think 'party' and 'Wolfram and Hart' anytime soon, Harmony," Angel said.
"It wasn't like that many people got killed," Harmony said with a toss of her hair.
Angel and Spike shot a look at each other. Harmony's ditzy California girl personality being stronger than her demon had always been a source of amusement for the two of them. Once again, she hadn't failed to live up to the stereotype.
Harmony turned to Spike. "Come on, dance with me, Spike!"
"I told you I don't dance," Spike said.
"Oh, come on! You're like the guest of honor. You have to dance!"
"As the guest of honor, doesn't that mean I should be able to do whatever I want? Or, whatever I don't want?" Spike asked, smirking at her.
Harmony only sighed, and pulled him onto the dance floor. "I promise I won't make any comments about a certain Slayer. So dance with me."
Spike sighed, but gave in. It was easier than continuing to argue with the silly bint, and besides . . . besides, he wanted to dance with someone. Put his arms around a woman, and hold her, and feel her touching him. He could barely remember the last time he danced; he wanted to say it had been with Drusilla. He was still haunted by the time he was incorporeal, and sometimes had nightmares that he had returned to that state. So, tonight he chose to dance with his ex, and not think about the fact that he was celebrating a year that had been spent without Buffy.
He leaned into Harmony, resting his face against her hair. This felt good. He felt good.
A memory floated to the surface of his thoughts. His fight with Angel, talking about that stupid cup, saying 'it's my destiny.' Trying to claim something else that was most likely to be Angel's in the end. At the time, he had thought that beating Angel was the only goal, the only destiny left to him.
Perhaps, though, this was what he was really looking for. The chance to make his own destiny.
A destiny without Buffy.
Throughout this year, he had suffered again and again. The disorientation of his return, the agony of being incorporeal, getting sucked into hell. Forced to bite his tongue and work with Angel, learning how to be a friend and a team player. Through all those struggles, there had been good times, yes. But he had still held onto the idea of Buffy. That if he made it through all this, at some point she'd be there, waiting for him. Like a reward.
Like the way Angel thought of the Shanshu prophecy. But Angel had stopped believing in the Shanshu. Said it was a load of crap, and that he wasn't working for that, wasn't expecting it. His actions belied that, but Angel still said he didn't care.
Perhaps it was time that he gave up the idea of being rewarded. Maybe there was no reward, just death waiting for him at the end of this second trip on Earth.
Maybe it was time to give up the pipe dream and face reality. He would never have Buffy.
Spike bit his lip, and closed his eyes. Just thinking it was painful. It was one thing to tell yourself something, and quite another to finally realize it.
"You're so tense," Harmony murmured, smoothing her fingers across his shoulders. "Stop thinking."
Spike opened his eyes, and pushed aside his thoughts, imagined shoving his thoughts into a closet and triple-locking it. "Sorry, pet. It's the birthday, you know--leads to deep thoughts."
She grinned up at him. "I liked you better when you were all impulsive and mean. We had a lot more fun when you were like that."
Spike moved away from Harmony, and stared at her for a moment. "Well, maybe it's time I had a little fun," he said with a grin, and pulled her closer to him, feeling her curves press against his body. And as he tightened his grip on her, he tried to ignore what his brain was saying over and over. This was his life and it was good, even if it didn't have Buffy in it.
"Yeah, unlife is pretty damn good," he whispered to himself, and tried not to think about how he seemed to be lying to himself.
End, Chapter 1
By Melissa(dettiot@yahoo.com)
Disclaimer: Joss, ME, and Fox owns them all. I'm just having some fun with them.
Summary: Set a year from Destiny, let's find out why Spike's still in LA, making friends and building a new life for himself.
Author's Notes: Many thanks to Cindy and Miriam for their help, and to Mezz for the fantabulous beta.
Text with // indicates a flashback sequence.
"I don't know Who - or what - put the question, I don't know when it was put. I don't even remember answering. But at some moment I did answer *Yes* to Someone - or Something - and from that hour I was certain that existence is meaningful and that, therefore, my life, in self-surrender, had a goal." Dag Hammarskjold
"If I tell you I'm in love with you, I'm telling you something about me. It's about how I feel about you, how you make me feel. It's about the way I feel when you're there, and the way I feel when you're not.
If I tell you I love you, I'm telling you something about you." the_royal_anna's LJ
Putting the Question
Chapter 1
Spike had never been one to deny that unlife could be pretty damn good. Prior to his years in Sunnydale, he'd almost never thought about the drawbacks, only the perks. He could have anything he craved, anyone he wanted. Of course, he had only really wanted Dru. Thought they'd be together forever. She was the first woman in his life, and he thought she'd be the only.
But even from the beginning, she had seemed to know that a time would come when he wouldn't be hers anymore. She loved him in her simple, crazy way, but it hadn't been enough for him.
Of course, the fact that she also loved Angelus could have had something to do with that.
So, unless he thought of such niggling facts as his sire's dependence and desire for her sire, he had been pretty happy. He had good times, dancing through carnage and death with his wicked plum at his side.
Yes, life as a vampire could be good. He'd needed to remind himself of that fact during his last two years in Sunnydale when he had started feeling old, started realizing for the first time how many years he had survived on this planet. He felt tired, and out of touch, something he had never felt since the night he'd been reborn. Not even staking his mother had taken so much out of him.
But it was understandable. That had been a clean break, and he had quickly buried the events deep down. But those years in Sunnydale, there had been nothing clean or forgotten about those dark days. He had been forced to look at all the things he had done, and see all the ways that he was unnatural. See how existence wasn't the best thing since warm blood. And the very thing he craved was that which made him suffer all the more.
Spike sighed, and turned around in his desk chair to look out the window. The special glass in the windows of Wolfram & Hart's Los Angeles office meant he could enjoy sunshine without worrying about the nasty side effects. Yet it couldn't compare to actually being outside, feeling the warmth on his skin, like he had with the Gem of Amara.
Like the warmth he had felt with Buffy.
Spike jumped up from his chair, and stalked out of the small office that Angel had finally deigned to grant him. He wasn't about to sit around brooding just because it was the anniversary of the day he had appeared in Angel's office, popping out of that bloody amulet like some demented Athena.
He chuckled a bit at the image of himself springing forth from Angel's head, like in the Greek myth, as he made his way to the workout facility that was set up on the tenth floor. It was officially for all W&H employees, but it had long ago been taken over by Spike, and was his second office. He took in a deep breath as he entered the room, letting his worries drop off his shoulders like the weight of the duster he took off at the same time. Then, with the grace born of over a century's worth of fighting, he began moving.
Punches, kicks, spins and leaps. He ranged across the mats, letting himself think only about the next move he was going to make. You couldn't be distracted when you were fighting, or you got hurt.
Or even worse, someone else got hurt.
***
//He had finally conceded that he might as well be part of the team. It was galling to do, but he wanted his spot of violence, and he was tired of always protesting that he didn't want to help. It was hard to keep insisting that he didn't care about Angel's little inner circle, but he couldn't deny what was clear to everyone: he had friends. For the first time ever, he really had friends.
Fred, the scientist with the cute noggin, and even more amazingly, sympathy for everyone, even him. Wesley, who saw the world in the same shades of grey that he did and offered a unique kind of comfort to Spike. Gunn, his drinking buddy and poker partner. Even Lorne was all right, as long as he didn't make Spike sing.
Spike was even starting to get along with Angel, and if that wasn't a sign that he was part of the crew, he didn't know what did.
So, he had stopped his complaining, and had made overtures to Angel that he'd be willing to help with cases. Angel, after some distrust, had grudgingly agreed to let Spike assist the team with the firm's latest client, some two-bit demon with too many connections and too many evil ideas. It should have been a piece of cake.
Roverall demons were notoriously bad at hand-to-hand combat, so he'd been sure that between Angel, Gunn, and himself, they'd be able to take the guy out, especially with Fred and Wesley as back-up. Yet Roveralls were also known for being smarter than they were given credit for. So, they'd been caught off guard when a dozen Ck'FivNins had come out of the woodwork and started attacking. But he'd just dived in and started fighting, ignoring Angel's half-heard shout for everyone to get out of the building.
And while he was being all fists and fangs, one of the Ck'FivNins had grabbed Wes and proceeded to beat him to a pulp.
He had realized something was wrong when he took care of the last demon, because it was too quiet. Too quiet, except for Wes' moans. For stoic Wesley to moan, he knew it was very bad. And all he could think about was the fact that he had let one of his friends get hurt.
Spike had felt the numbness settle over him. He looked around, until his eyes landed on the Roverall, crouching against a wall.
He strode over and yanked up the short little demon. He glared at the creature, unable to say anything, and then he realized he was punching the demon, clawing at him, tearing him to shreds. He kept going, until a hand on his shoulder, shaking him, managed to make him pause.
"Spike, stop. I need you to take care of Fred."
It was only because it was Angel, and because he mentioned Fred, that Spike was able to stop systematically destroying the Roverall. He dropped the remains to the floor, and rested his forehead against the wall for a moment, trying to collect himself. Then, he pushed away, and turned to face Angel.
Angel looked at him, without expression, and then said, "Take Fred back to the office. Gunn and I'll get Wes to the hospital."
Spike nodded, and took Fred's hand. She didn't squirm at all, despite his hand being covered in guts and blood. They made their way back to W&H, where he had attacked the punching bag till his own blood mixed with the Roverall's. Then, he had gone to Fred, and she had helped him clean his hands, and had held his now-clean hand as he had let his feelings out.
And he realized that this was what friends did. Held your hand when you were ready to start crying out of anger and guilt and sorrow. Before this, Dawn was the closest thing to a friend that he had, but he'd never felt like he could do this with her. Couldn't drop the Big Bad image then, could he? Especially since she was so young, and she needed him to be strong, to protect her. But now, he didn't have to worry about protecting anyone.
So he let his friend help him.//
***
That incident had been a turning point. Spike paused in his workout, and took a sip from a water bottle, as he pondered the way he had embraced the new friends he'd found. They had accepted him in ways the Scoobies had never even attempted. He had needed their support at that time; Angel and he were at each other's throats constantly over their history and the Shanshu prophecy. Fred in particular was a godsend in dealing with the anger and frustration he felt about Angel, as well as the rejection he felt.
Gradually, he had been able to see each of them in their own lights. Wes was great to watch football with, and had a fondness for a good drink. Gunn was the one to go out with when you just wanted to party and get hammered. Lorne and he could swap stories about demons in the entertainment business for hours.
Yet he couldn't seem to talk to Angel without starting a fight. He knew it bothered Fred, and the others weren't happy that the two vampires could barely work together. They could focus on the work for the bare minimum of time needed to accomplish the goal, but then they'd be back to insults and punches.
It was almost like a repeat of his relationship with Buffy. Spike snorted, and went over to the punching bag, not bothering to tape his hands.
Sometimes he liked the pain.
***
//"What the hell were you thinking?" Angel said through gritted teeth. "I told you to follow Nega to the warehouse and then watch the exits. I didn't say anything about crashing a ritual that had seventeen Sw'Ali demons participating!"
Spike wiped some of the blood out of his eyes and glared at his grandsire. "And I told you, if I had waited for the rest of you, the victims would have been killed. I made the call, Angel, and if you can't accept that, then I'm not going to keep wasting my time."
"Your time? You've been nothing but a waste of time and space since the day Drusilla brought you to our hotel. I should have staked you then."
"Maybe you should have! That would have been the only time you could have taken me--when I was fresh out of the ground!" Spike's voice was loud and echoed off the walls of the alley where the two vampires stood. He moved closer to Angel, his body language confrontational. "After all, you've slowed down with age. Can't quite cut it anymore, can you, gramps?"
With a snarl, Angel threw a punch at Spike. Spike dodged, and laughed as his fist connected with Angel's face. "Come on, Angel, show me how you know so much more than I do. Show me how you're better than me, faster than me, stronger than me. Oh, wait," he said, as he knocked Angel to the ground. "You're not any of those things, are you?" He smirked at Angel, who lay on the ground at his feet. He felt such power now, knowing that he could beat Angel. After decades of never winning, he knew he could take Angel.
Angel coughed, and spit some blood out of his mouth and onto his shirt. "Sure, Spike. Whatever you say. You da man." His voice was mocking and ironic.
Spike growled, and bent over and grabbed Angel by the lapels of his jacket. "What will it take for you to bloody respect me?" he yelled, before he pulled Angel up and slammed him against a wall. "Why can't you admit that I'm just as good as you are?" He threw another punch, but Angel's palm caught his fist.
Angel's face was passive as he began speaking. "You were a scrap of a man before Dru turned you, but you were more alive, more human, than any vampire should be. And I hated you for that."
Spike started in surprise at Angel's words. "You always mocked me for associating with the food. For worrying about Dru so much. For jumping into the middle of a mob."
Angel shrugged. "It wasn't in my nature to do any of those things. And I envied you for it, because you made things look so simple. Even before I got my soul back, I always wanted to kick your ass. I had to stay angry so I wouldn't be jealous."
Spike dropped his hands from Angel's coat, and took two steps back. "But you had everything I wanted," he said, his voice incredulous. "You were the top of the mountain. You had Darla, and all you had to do was crook your pinky at Dru and she'd leave me and go running to you. You were feared by vampires in every place we visited. No one wanted to be on your bad side."
"Except you," Angel said with a grimace as he pushed off from the wall. He walked over and stood by Spike.
"Yeah, funny, isn't it?" Spike said, still trying to adjust to the idea that Angel envied him.
"Well, I blamed it on your hair. The bleach, you know."
Spike looked at Angel in confusion. "I didn't bleach my hair till 1974!"
"Huh," Angel said. "Well, it was definitely your hair that made you different." With that non-sequitor, Angel walked down the length of the alley to the street. He paused, and called back to Spike, "You coming?"
Spike stared at his feet, still trying to come to grips with everything. He realized Angel had spoken, and quickly moved to catch up with him. "Yeah, I'm coming."
They stood in silence for a moment, waiting to cross the street, and then Spike said quickly, "Not my fault my hair didn't hang around like spaghetti. What was up with that look, anyway?"
"Hey, now, Darla loved it."
Spike snorted. "Darla, oh yeah, there's a real arbitrator on fashion for you. What about those kimonos she insisted on wearing anytime we were in Asia? Made her stick out even more with the blonde hair and all."
Their voices faded as they walked towards Angel's car, snarking about hair and clothes and their shared history, not realizing that they had taken the first step towards a new relationship.//
***
"Yo, bleach boy."
Gunn's voice pulled Spike's concentration from his sparring. He turned and favored him with a grin. "Seeing as how I know you're jealous of my hair, I'll overlook that comment."
Gunn rubbed his hand over his head, which he'd recently shaved after losing a bet with Spike. "Yeah, jealous. Right."
Spike walked over and grabbed a towel, rubbing the sweat off his face. "Got something going on tonight, Charlie boy?"
"Other than knocking back a few beers to celebrate your return to unlife, nope."
Spike raised an eyebrow at Gunn, and the other man laughed. "Don't tell me you thought I wouldn't know about how you were brooding in your office, and as soon as you realized what you were doing, you came down here."
"Don't you have some demon widow out there to put in the poorhouse, instead of spying on good employees like yours truly?" Spike complained.
"Not when you are the good employee in question. Come on, there's a deep-fried onion that's calling our names."
"Give me fifteen minutes to shower, and we're off."
Gunn nodded and ambled out of the room. Spike finished toweling off, and headed for the small bathroom that was attached to the gym, first grabbing a change of clothes out of the closet.
A little drinking, a little conversation, was just what he needed to take his mind off his thoughts. It must have been the anniversary, he pondered, making him think about Buffy. No one around here would let him forget her, so it wasn't like she was ever that far from his thoughts, but there were days he was able to not think about her at all. But that never ended well.
***
//It had been a week from hell, full of clients who wanted vampire blood for their dark rituals, a spell to cleanse the smell of yak urine out of carpets, or a date for the Oscars. Spike shuffled his way into Angel's office and collapsed on the sofa, letting out a groan.
"That kind of day for you, too?" Angel commented, looking up from a file.
"More that kind of week," Spike commented dryly. "Please tell me that Bronte called you and said everything was a go for tomorrow."
Angel nodded. "Ritual is a go. Of course, they won't know it's gonna backfire until the end, but they're satisfied, and after they use that booby-trapped spell, they won't be coming back to us to complain about our product."
"Brilliant," Spike said, and let his eyes close. "What day is today? Of the month, I mean. I've been working so much, I've lost track."
"Are you trying to say I'm a slave-driver, or that you deserve a raise?"
Spike opened one eye and looked at Angel. "To get a raise, I'd need to be paid something first. But a definite yes to the whole slave-driver thing."
"I'm the boss. Can't make exceptions for family," Angel said with a touch of dark humor.
"Family?" Spike said, feeling a bit surprised. Angel wasn't one to toss around that term lightly, and especially not considering him.
Angel shrugged. "Just been thinking about it lately."
Spike looked at Angel again, wondering what directions his mind was taking, but he let the moment pass. "Yeah. The date?" he prodded Angel.
Angel glanced at his desk calendar. "It's the 21st."
"The 21st," Spike mumbled under his breath. "That sounds familiar . . . " Suddenly, he realized what today was, and he sat up quickly.
"What is it?" Angel asked curiously. Then, his own eyes widened. "Buffy's birthday."
Spike nodded. "Yep. Completely forgot until now. Slayer's made it to 23. Breaks her old record for being the oldest Slayer still working." He looked down at his shoes. "Not that we know if she's still working."
A thick silence fell between them. They hadn't talked about Buffy since that no-holds-barred fight over the Cup of Infernal Dew, as Spike had dubbed it in his head. But each of them knew that Buffy had not contacted the other one. None of the Sunnydale gang, in fact, were in contact with them. Even Wes had expressed surprise that Giles hadn't returned his phone calls about the potential re-creation of the Watcher's Council. It was almost like their existence had been wiped out, along with the town.
But lack of contact didn't mean that Spike didn't think about Buffy. Didn't wonder what she was doing at this very moment, where she was. Whether she ever thought about him. And he was pretty sure that Angel wondered the same thing. And for that very reason, they had chosen not to jeopardize the relationship they had slowly started building by talking about the woman they both loved.
Angel cleared his throat. "I wonder if she's had a good birthday."
Spike snorted. "Knowing the Slayer, it's unlikely. She didn't even celebrate the last one. Said with everything that was going on with the First, she didn't want the chaos that her birthday inevitably brought." He suddenly remembered how Buffy's string of bad birthdays had begun, and he closed his eyes in guilt. Yeah, sure, he hated Angel most of the time, but he knew the feeling of loving yet not having Buffy. "Angel . . ." he said, his voice regretful.
"Forget it," Angel said, standing up from his chair. He started shoving papers into folders, giving the appearance of someone cleaning off his desk at the end of a long day. But Spike could see the tension in his shoulders.
"Angel."
The other vampire stopped, and turned to look at Spike. "What?" he said icily.
"You still haven't forgiven yourself for losing your soul, have you?" Spike asked, already knowing the answer. "That's as bad as not having Buffy, right? The knowledge that you could cause her that much pain, and it was all your fault . . ."
"Don't need a recap, Spike. I was there, you know," Angel said angrily.
"Yeah, you were. You still are, even now. Even when Sunnydale's nothing more than a big hole in the ground."
"Like you're one to talk," Angel muttered. "You think Buffy's out there, waiting for you? News flash, William. She's not pining away after you. No more than she is for me."
Spike rose from the sofa, feeling the instinctive anger flare up. But he'd learned when to control the anger instead of giving in to the urge to bait Angel further. He strolled over and leaned against the wall, looking at his grandsire. "No, I don't expect Buffy to be carrying a torch for me. We were . . . friends, I guess, by the end. But I know she didn't love me. Not like she loved you, much as I hate to say it," he said with a groan. "Yet you left her, because you couldn't deal with the temptation, the memories."
Angel sighed, and stood next to Spike against the wall. "And your point is?"
Spike shrugged. "I stayed around. Kept coming back for more, because I had to be near her, you know? No matter what pain she dished out. And it was worth it--every moment I spent with her was worth it." He stopped talking for a moment, trying to arrange his thoughts. "But now, she's living the normal girl life, and I'll most certainly never be normal. So, it looks like me and you are gonna be stuck together for a while." Spike paused. "I'm trying to figure out how you do it."
"How I do what?"
Spike shoved his hands into the pockets of his duster. "Live without her."
Angel pushed away from the wall, and headed towards the elevator to his apartment. He pushed the button, the doors opened with a soft whoosh, and Angel stepped inside. But before the doors closed, Angel said, "I don't."//
***
Spike stepped out of the shower, drying off and getting dressed quickly. Thoughts of his "birthday" had reminded him of the conversations Angel and he had slowly begun having after their talk on Buffy's birthday. More often than not, one of them stomped away, or even threw an occasional punch to end the conversation. But before that happened, each of them had begun to learn more about the other. They were finally getting to the point where they could co-exist together, semi-peacefully.
Amazing how you could get along with someone, when that someone wasn't constantly belittling you or ignoring you.
Plus, it helped to have the rest of the gang on his side occasionally during the fights that Angel and he had. Always nice to see Angel getting laid into by his own employees. He still laughed over the time Lorne had started humming "Mandy" during one of Angel's rants. Angel had stopped mid-word, and Wesley and Gunn had burst into whoops of laughter. Fred had started giggling to the point where she could hardly breathe. And Spike had just sat back and enjoyed it all.
He chuckled to himself as he headed upstairs to meet up with Gunn. But when he entered the lobby, he was shocked to find it full of people. He stood just inside the doorway, amazed to see half the company there, as well as several of L.A.'s best demons.
"Nice of you to be nearly on time to your birthday party," Gunn said with a slap on Spike's shoulder.
"What the bloody hell is all this?" Spike asked in surprise.
Gunn gave him a long look. "Birthday party. You've never told anyone when your birthday was when you were human, or even the day you were turned. Angel wouldn't tell, either. So Fred and I put our heads together and decided to make today your birthday."
Spike shook his head in amazement. "Why would you do something like that for me?"
"Other than an excuse to party on Angel's dime? Because you deserve it." With that, Gunn moved away, going to mingle with some of his cronies from the Urban Intervention Department.
Spike couldn't help just looking around, wondering how in the world he had gotten here. Why he had people that seemed to care about him. Didn't seem right. Not what he was used to.
"You look a bit surprised," Angel commented as he pressed a mug into Spike's hand.
Spike drank, barely tasting the blood, before speaking. "Surprised is an understatement."
"Fred's idea, really. She recruited Gunn, and they went to town, as you can see," Angel said.
"Don't know why they bothered," Spike said. "No one else ever has."
"I believe that's why I encouraged them to go ahead when the two of them asked me about how you'd feel about the idea."
"What?" Spike said, turning to Angel.
Angel looked at Spike for a moment, his expression blank but meaningful just the same. "Happy birthday, Spike."
Spike didn't know what to say, so he glanced down at his boots, and then looked out at the crowd. "Been a hell of a year," he said finally, realizing how far he had come in such a short time. For a vampire, a year was a blink of an eye. Taking stock of your life wasn't done, really, so birthdays became meaningless pretty quickly. But Spike thought that vampires were missing out by not indulging in such events. Why not celebrate another year of unlife, another year that you'd avoided death?
Besides, presents were bloody fabulous.
Ignorant of Spike's thoughts, Angel responded to Spike's last statement. "Never would have guessed you'd make it," he said. "If nothing else, I'd have expected you to go chasing after Buffy."
Spike sighed. "I'm not sure about that, myself."
He could see, out of the corner of his eye, Angel whip his head around to stare at Spike. "What?"
Spike gazed out at the people dancing, laughing, talking to their friends. Before he spoke, he grabbed a beer from a passing waiter, and took a long swig. "She hasn't been in touch with either of us. She had Giles call the love of her life to tell him that she'd made it through another apocalypse, all 'don't call me, I'll call you.'" Spike sighed. "I'll love the girl till I'm dust. But that's what she thinks I am, right now. So I think I'm learning how to live without her."
He could sense Angel trying to find words, and true to form, Angel reverted to cliches. "It's probably for the best. It's easier that way."
"Never said it was easy, mate," Spike ground out. He sighed. "I could find her, yeah. And I could follow her around again, being faithful old Spike, pet vampire. I don't have any prophecies or magical mystical surprises waiting for me at the end of the road--I'm only responsible for myself. So there's nothing stopping me." He took a deep breath, if only to make himself be calm enough to say the next sentence. "Nothing stopping me, except me."
Angel opened his mouth, getting ready to speak, when his secretary's shrill voice halted his words.
"Oh, Spikey!" She threw her arms around him and gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I know that vampires don't celebrate birthdays, but happy birthday!"
"Thanks, Harm," Spike said, his voice a mixture of sincerity and irritation.
"It was my idea to have the party here. We haven't had one since Halloween."
"Well, most people who were at that party didn't want to think 'party' and 'Wolfram and Hart' anytime soon, Harmony," Angel said.
"It wasn't like that many people got killed," Harmony said with a toss of her hair.
Angel and Spike shot a look at each other. Harmony's ditzy California girl personality being stronger than her demon had always been a source of amusement for the two of them. Once again, she hadn't failed to live up to the stereotype.
Harmony turned to Spike. "Come on, dance with me, Spike!"
"I told you I don't dance," Spike said.
"Oh, come on! You're like the guest of honor. You have to dance!"
"As the guest of honor, doesn't that mean I should be able to do whatever I want? Or, whatever I don't want?" Spike asked, smirking at her.
Harmony only sighed, and pulled him onto the dance floor. "I promise I won't make any comments about a certain Slayer. So dance with me."
Spike sighed, but gave in. It was easier than continuing to argue with the silly bint, and besides . . . besides, he wanted to dance with someone. Put his arms around a woman, and hold her, and feel her touching him. He could barely remember the last time he danced; he wanted to say it had been with Drusilla. He was still haunted by the time he was incorporeal, and sometimes had nightmares that he had returned to that state. So, tonight he chose to dance with his ex, and not think about the fact that he was celebrating a year that had been spent without Buffy.
He leaned into Harmony, resting his face against her hair. This felt good. He felt good.
A memory floated to the surface of his thoughts. His fight with Angel, talking about that stupid cup, saying 'it's my destiny.' Trying to claim something else that was most likely to be Angel's in the end. At the time, he had thought that beating Angel was the only goal, the only destiny left to him.
Perhaps, though, this was what he was really looking for. The chance to make his own destiny.
A destiny without Buffy.
Throughout this year, he had suffered again and again. The disorientation of his return, the agony of being incorporeal, getting sucked into hell. Forced to bite his tongue and work with Angel, learning how to be a friend and a team player. Through all those struggles, there had been good times, yes. But he had still held onto the idea of Buffy. That if he made it through all this, at some point she'd be there, waiting for him. Like a reward.
Like the way Angel thought of the Shanshu prophecy. But Angel had stopped believing in the Shanshu. Said it was a load of crap, and that he wasn't working for that, wasn't expecting it. His actions belied that, but Angel still said he didn't care.
Perhaps it was time that he gave up the idea of being rewarded. Maybe there was no reward, just death waiting for him at the end of this second trip on Earth.
Maybe it was time to give up the pipe dream and face reality. He would never have Buffy.
Spike bit his lip, and closed his eyes. Just thinking it was painful. It was one thing to tell yourself something, and quite another to finally realize it.
"You're so tense," Harmony murmured, smoothing her fingers across his shoulders. "Stop thinking."
Spike opened his eyes, and pushed aside his thoughts, imagined shoving his thoughts into a closet and triple-locking it. "Sorry, pet. It's the birthday, you know--leads to deep thoughts."
She grinned up at him. "I liked you better when you were all impulsive and mean. We had a lot more fun when you were like that."
Spike moved away from Harmony, and stared at her for a moment. "Well, maybe it's time I had a little fun," he said with a grin, and pulled her closer to him, feeling her curves press against his body. And as he tightened his grip on her, he tried to ignore what his brain was saying over and over. This was his life and it was good, even if it didn't have Buffy in it.
"Yeah, unlife is pretty damn good," he whispered to himself, and tried not to think about how he seemed to be lying to himself.
End, Chapter 1