Fallen, broken
Simply dissolved into an incomplete thought
An empty shell cracked and disfigured
With no remorse I have been blinded by the darkness
With no distain, I have received my punishment
And with no haste, I await them
My eyes don't see the obvious
There's way too far to go
Forget about the rest of me
There's nothing left to know
I see fallen angels
When I try to go to sleep
And they're always watching
I see fallen angels
As I'm walking in the street
Silently preparing
What they'll do to me
You see I'm kind of paranoid
My luck, it seems to have run out
So I will point the finger now
Beyond a shadow of a doubt
I see fallen angels
When I try to go to sleep
And they're always watching
I see fallen angels
As I'm walking in the street
Silently preparing
What they'll do to me
I see fallen angels
When I try to go to sleep
And they're always watching
I see fallen angels
As I'm walking in the street
Silently preparing
I see fallen angels (I see fallen angels)
I see fallen angels
When I try to go to sleep (I see fallen angels)
I see fallen angels (I see fallen angels)
As I'm walking in the street (I see fallen angels)
Silently preparing
What they'll do to me
"Fallen Angels"
Ra
Chapter One
Fallen Angels
"No - NO! NOOOO!"
"Angel, wake up! Angel! Bastard, wake UP!"
Angel jumped out of bed, his vamp face on and snarling as he clawed at his attacker, tearing and scratching like an animal...
"Angel, ya git, IT'S ME!"
Angel felt himself slam into a wall, knocking his face back to normal and causing him to cough a few times. He squinted at the person holding him against the wall.
"Spike?"
"Damn right," the blonde vampire said, easing his hold on Angel's arms. "You were shoutin' – screaming all sorts o' things. Never heard you so spooked. You all right then?"
Angel took a few deep breaths, more to calm himself than anything. He nodded gently and Spike let go of him. "Gave me a right scare, you did," he muttered, still standing in front of Angel. "What in bloody hell were you dreaming?"
"You really don't wanna know," Angel whispered, wiping his face. He was sweating profusely, something he was not at all accustomed to doing. Spike frowned a bit.
"If I asked you what you were seeing, I really do want to know," he said calmly, running a hand through his hair. "I mean that," he added, catching Angel's gaze. Angel only nodded again before stepping past him and sitting back on his cot. Spike merely watched him, staring after him as though waiting for him to speak. Angel sat silently on his bed, his eyes fixed on the floor. Spike waited for a few minutes before stalking back to his own cot.
"It was horrible." Spike turned as Angel looked up at him. His brown eyes were filled with tears. "I kept seeing everyone – mostly the final fight. But there were flashes of Fred, Wesley, and Cordy, and Doyle…" He swallowed. "All the people I've lost along the way. In Los Angeles. Lorne, Gunn… people I've let down… I feel like it's all my fault that so many of them are dead… I came into their lives and everything went down hill." Angel felt his tears falling down his cheeks. "Even you, and Drusilla, and Darla – "
"Darla was a bitch, and you know that," Spike said calmly. He strode to Angel's cot and sat down next to him. "She loved hurting us more than anything else. And nothing you ever say about her will make me think otherwise. Dru was… well, she was different, we both know that. She was definitely crazy."
"Because of me," Angel sighed. "I did that to her."
"Angelus did that – you're different," Spike said. "Doesn't make it any better or any worse. I'm just saying; Angelus and you are truly two different people."
"But I still… I still remember…"
"And you always will," Spike agreed. "Just like I'll always remember everything I did. 'S not like I was a saint, you know."
"I want… I want you…"
"What?"
"I want you to know… I'm sorry. For everything. Everything I did to you, to Drusilla, from the moment I met you until now. I'm sorry."
Spike frowned. He had never heard his grand sire apologize for things done as Angelus. At least, not things that had been directed towards Drusilla or himself. He shifted slightly on the cot, feeling a little uncomfortable.
"Mate, you couldn't have done things any different – why apologize for things that were out of your control?" Angel buried his face in his hands, shaking somewhat. Spike gently put a hand on his back, patting him carefully. "Hey, Angel, come on, snap out of it. You've got nothing to be ashamed of."
"I have everything to be ashamed of," he moaned. "I swore to help the helpless, be the world's 'Dark Avenger' and give people hope. I told myself that none of my friends would have to worry, that they would be safe with me…"
"Angel – " Spike started, but before he could continue, Angel began sobbing outright. Spike had never seen this much emotion from Angel ever, and felt more uncomfortable than before. "Hey, hey," he whispered, trying to get Angel's attention, to no avail. He grabbed Angel's hands and pried them away from his face. The older vampire looked at him, his face red and tearstained.
"I can't do this, Spike."
"Shut up and go to sleep," Spike said irritably. He stood up, and pushed Angel back onto the bed. Grabbing his legs, he swung Angel completely onto the cot and pulled the sheets up to his chest.
"I can't, Spike – "
"Didn't I say go to sleep?" Spike asked, kneeling next to Angel. "You have to get through this, because if you don't, then they win. Wolfram & Hart, the senior partners, even the bloody Powers That Be who seem to love kickin' us when we're down. Besides," he smiled, "Who the hell else could I annoy for the rest of… whatever we got now?" Angel nodded meekly and closed his eyes. Spike stayed where he was for a moment, watching Angel intently. He wondered why Angel had suddenly opened up to him – become so vulnerable, so weak – something he had never done before, in front of anyone, Spike was sure of that.
Finally, after wrenching his eyes away from Angel's face, he clambered onto his own cot and pulled the sheets up.
"Rise and shine, boys!"
Spike was greeted with Faith's bright eyes, which were looking down at him in their typical sultry manner.
"Morning to you too," Spike muttered, rolling over.
"Actually, it's more like afternoon," Faith told him, yanking the covers off him. He rolled over and glared at her.
"Come on peaches, time to get up," he called across the room. He glanced to where Angel was sleeping in time to catch the very rude hand gesture Angel gave them both.
"Ooo, someone's grouchy today," Faith teased. She balled up Spike's sheets and threw them onto Angel's head.
"Go awaif Faif," he mumbled through his pillow and blankets. She laughed.
"Not a chance, Angel. Time for you two to earn your keep."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Spike yawned. "What keep?"
"In exchange for living quarters, as well as food, you two are gonna help me." She strolled over to Angel's bed and yanked all the sheets off him before grabbing the cot and flipping it upside down, sending Angel sprawling to the concrete floor.
"Faith!" he raged, jumping up and pushing his face in hers. She kept smiling.
"Angel," she said innocently. "Pleasant dreams?" He glared at her. "Or were you and Spike just being friendly?" Angel shoved her back, making her stumble onto the floor.
"Fuck you," he growled, pushing past her towards the stairs.
Faith glared at him as he passed her, grabbing a towel from one of the utility racks as he walked up the steps to the main area of the house. "What the hell is his problem?" Faith asked Spike, who offered her a hand up. She accepted, dusting herself off as the two of them walked after Angel.
"Bad dreams," Spike told her, grabbing a towel himself. "Had to throw him into the wall to get him to snap out of 'em."
"I was wondering what all the noise was down here. Bet you liked manhandling him," she teased. The blonde vampire glowered at her as she chuckled. "Come on Spike, are you honestly saying that you've never even thought about it? About how it would be to be with him?"
"Shut-up Faith – Angel and I are… friends, sort of… so don't go gettin' all excited about the idea I know is buzzin' around in your head."
Faith gave him an angelic look. "What? What thought? I have no idea what you're talking about." Spike looked at her, disbelief written all over him.
"Nice try, but I know you better than you'd like, pet," he told her. The two had walked into a small kitchen that looked as though it should have belonged to a tiny old grandmother rather than to Faith and Wood. The pots and pan, utensils, everything looked as though it had been around since the Second World War – which, Spike thought, it probably had. He watched as she reached up for a large box of cereal, opening and closing several cabinets with peeling and faded paint before finally sitting down with a large bowl of some ultra-healthy whole grain and fruit guaranteed to help lose weight cereal that he knew he could never eat, even if he ever ended up becoming human again.
Shanshu…
Now that he had let it creep into his mind, the word raced through his brain. He thought about what it would be like, becoming human again after all these years as a vampire. All these years of torture and mayhem, of killing. Years of hiding from the sunlight, shrinking back at the sight of a cross or feeling the burn of holy water. Years of hiding from everything…
"Spike!"
"It was on the telly!" he burst out, staring at Faith, who it seemed was now trying to laugh and stop choking on the spoon she had almost swallowed at his outburst.
"What – " cough, "what are – " She was still choking, still laughing, but at least now she had gotten the spoon out of her mouth. "What are you talking about?"
"I dunno!" he said defensively. "You yelled at me, I panicked!" Faith kept grinning as her laughter subsided, picking the spoon back up off of the table and resuming her breakfast.
"I was asking what you two had planned now that you're 'on the lam' as it were."
"Oh," Spike perked up. "Ah, not real sure, actually. Got anything that needs dusting? And I don't mean housecleaning, love," he told her as she eyed the cabinet tops. "I'm thinking more along the demon variety."
"Plenty," she told him. "Another Hellmouth – another round of big bads to get rid of." Spike nodded, then turned his attention to the figure walking into the kitchen.
"Morning, Wood," Spike said as amicably as possible. Wood nodded in his general direction, which Spike considered to be a wild improvement over the last time they were in such close quarters. The kitchen fell quiet except for the sounds of Wood as he prepared a cup of coffee. He wore a long white tank top and a pair of black silk sleeping pants. He still had his mustache and goatee, but he had let his hair grow slightly – though still very short, it was at least noticeable now. Spike watched as Wood finished making his coffee and turned to go back out of the kitchen. The place remained silent until a few moments later, when Spike heard voices. Guessing that Angel was now out of the shower, he stood up.
"I'm gonna go get pretty for ya," he told Faith with a wink. She grinned mischievously.
"Are you sure it's not for Angel?" she asked. He scowled at her but said nothing, walking out of the kitchen and into the small open area of the hallways. He peeked into a large, open room, which he took to be the living room. There was indeed a television, as well as a few chairs and a couch, along with small tables and lamps. Wood was sipping his coffee, nodding as he listened to someone.
" – I just… When I sleep, even when I'm awake sometimes… I keep seeing all these… people…" Spike recognized the voice as Angel's. He pressed in closer to the wall to hear better. "They're always dead. Sometimes, I'm the one that killed them… other times, I know I didn't put my hand to them, but I feel like I'm still the reason they're dead."
"Because you were the one in charge of the attack on Wolfram & Hart?" Wood asked.
"No – because I was the one in charge of everything," Angel told him. Spike felt his heart breaking for Angel – those dreams were really tearing him up. He was about to walk away to take his shower when he heard something that caught his attention. "And sometimes – sometimes I see Spike there too."
"Spike?" Wood asked, sounding slightly confused. "Why do you see Spike?"
"Because I'm the real reason he's a vampire," Angel said. "I'm the one who turned Drusilla, drove her insane. And her insanity prompted her to pick Spike – "
"Wait just a bloody minute!" Spike burst in, frowning at Angel. "Are you saying Dru wouldn't have turned me if she were sane?"
"Spike, what the hell are you doing listening to a private conversation?" Angel asked, furious. Spike smirked.
"Well, I was feelin' sorry for ya, 'til you went and said that! Dru and I were – "
"Meant for each other, she was your destiny, your love was forever, I know all that!" Angel shouted, crossing his arms across the black tank top he was now wearing. Loose fitting blue jeans that seemed to bell out at the bottom completed his outfit. Spike looked at his feet.
"Are… are you wearing women's pants?" he asked, his smirk broadening into a grin. Angel stared at him, confused.
"What?"
"Your jeans – they look like Buffy's, the way they kinda… flare out at the bottom." Angel looked down, then back at Spike.
"No, they're not women's jeans, they're just… boot cut," he muttered. "Just, leave me alone, Spike."
"Oh no, Angel, you and I – we got a conversation to have."
Wood stood back, watching the two vampires intently. "You know you two are better than morning television," he said flatly. Angel continued staring at Spike, who crossed his arms as well, mimicking Angel's stance.
"I can stand here just as long as you can, Halo Boy," Spike told him, his eyes never leaving Angel's.
"Halo Boy?" Angel asked him. "Wow, you're really losing your edge in your old age, aren't ya?" Spike kept staring. "Or maybe this is part of you having your soul – you start to lose all the witty comebacks and put downs you used to have. Man, that must be hell for you."
"Sod off, Angel," Spike said, turning and walking back through the door. He rounded the corner and stalked towards the bathroom, seething. He knew that he had voluntarily let Angel win that round – but there would be plenty more that he knew he could win. Besides, if Angel didn't win occasionally, he'd start brooding more, and there was only so much Spike could put up with.
Quickly he turned on the shower, letting the water heat up as he disrobed. He turned to the large bathroom mirror, staring into it and seeing only the wall behind him, and the towel rack with tons of sterile white towels – the kind you'd see in a hotel. He sighed.
"God, I hate that man," he whispered, then grinned as he stepped into the water.
Angel sat in the kitchen, reading the newspaper. To his left, a steaming coffee mug sat filled with pig's blood. He absentmindedly picked it up and sipped at it, still scanning the paper. He was alone in the room. Faith and Wood had mentioned something about going to the grocery store and the butcher; Spike had stalked back into the basement after his shower and had not come out yet. Which, truth be told, suited Angel just fine. He cared about Spike, to be certain – but it didn't mean he actually liked the guy that much.
And so he sat, feeling oddly at peace for the time being – he felt almost normal. Almost like he was human again. The thought that he could still act as though he were any ordinary guy gave him comfort. He may have a demon inside of him, but he was still the one in control.
"That's what you think," a voice whispered. Angel frowned, looking to each side of him. Was he imagining that voice? It sounded familiar… very familiar.
"You're not human, Angel," it whispered again. He could tell it was female – but where was it coming from? "You never will be either. You'll be a demon forever."
Angel stood up, setting his coffee mug down and walking to the kitchen entrance. He poked his head out into the hallway, looking around to see if someone was just messing with his mind. But no one was there. He turned back into the room – he was still completely alone.
"You'll kill them all," the voice came again, this time not as soft. Angel, still frowning, went back to the table. "Just like you killed me."
"Who are you?" he demanded gruffly, his hands going to his hips.
Laughter trickled out of the air and flowed down his spine like water, causing him to shiver slightly. "You don't recognize me?" it asked, sounding hurt. "I'm the woman you love," it told him.
"Buffy?" his eyes widened as he looked around frantically. "Buffy, where are you?"
"Not Buffy," it sang, mockingly. "I can't believe you even said that." The voice sounded stronger, as though the person speaking were now directly behind Angel. He turned his head slowly, afraid of what he'd see.
"Cordy," he breathed. A ghostly vision of Cordelia Chase stood in the middle of the kitchen, staring at him expectantly.
"Well, yeah," it said, smiling. "Took ya long enough, huh?" Angel reached out to touch her – his fingers slipped right through her.
"Cordy, I've missed you," he whispered, feeling a few hot tears roll down his cheeks. Her smile turned sad. "I've seen you so many times in my dreams – I'm so sorry I lost you," he cried.
"Angel, don't cry," she told him, reaching out to him. Her hand passed through him, and he bit his lip to keep more tears back.
"I don't know what I'm doing, Cordy," he choked out, rubbing his eyes furiously.
"Shhh," she chided. "Angel, you're just doing what you're meant to do," she whispered, taking a step closer to him. He looked down at the cracked linoleum floor. "You're being that which is your true nature. You're being a demon." He looked up at her now, horror struck.
"No," he pleaded, their faces inches apart. "No, I'm not – please – "
"Angel, you let me die – you let Fred die – And Wesley, and Gunn – "
"No," Angel sobbed, tears falling down his cheeks. "Please, stop…"
"And of course, you let Doyle die too," she sighed, ignoring him. "You swore to help everyone, but you were so concerned with everyone else that you never really tried to help the people who mattered most to you – you never really tried to save any of us," she told him as he bawled, helpless. "And that's just as bad as killing us yourself."
"Cordy," he whimpered. "Please, Cordy, why… why are you doing this?"
Cordelia looked at him sternly. "Because you need to know, Angel. You need to know how useless you were, to all of us. Even to Buffy, since you were so worried about her before."
"Leave her out of this," Angel said, his anger flaring slightly. Cordelia grinned.
"So useless that she sent you away before her final fight against the First. She knew she'd never need that second front. But she didn't want you around to help, and she knew that was the only way to get you to leave."
"Shut up," Angel growled, his anger rising. Through his tears he glared at the ghost, wishing he could stop her from saying anything more.
"She wanted you gone so she could crawl into Spike's arms that night," Cordelia taunted. "Wanted you gone so she could have a real champion."
"SHUT UP!" Angel shouted, storming through her and out of the room. He had just gotten through the entrance to the kitchen when he ran straight into Spike. The two collapsed onto the floor, tangled with one another.
"Bloody hell Angel!" Spike shouted, looking slightly flush. "What happened?"
"God, Spike, you're head," Angel said, sitting up as he grabbed the side of his. Spike's eyes went wide as he began grabbing and feeling around his head.
"Oh God, am I OK? What happened to it? What did you do?"
"Thanks for the concern, I'm fine after your head crashed into mine," Angel told him sarcastically. Spike nodded.
"Oh, good, as long as I'm still pretty," he said. He sat up, his legs still tangled with Angel's. "What was going on Angel?" Angel leaned back, his hands propping him up. He stared at Spike. "I came up, heard you talkin' to someone, so I went to the living room. Figured you wouldn't like it much if I was listenin' in again," he said sheepishly. "Then I hear you gettin' angry, and shoutin', and soon as I rush to the room, you come out all hot an' bothered, not even watching where you're going," he said, sounding very concerned. Angel shook his head.
"I saw Cordy," he whispered, looking down at their legs. He noticed for the first time that Spike was wearing khakis, and a light blue t-shirt that fit very snuggly. He smiled inwardly – Spike looked pretty nice when he wasn't going for the British punk style he seemed so infatuated with.
"And I take it she wasn't here to tell you, 'Great job back in L. A.' huh?" Angel shook his head, looking back up at Spike. He noticed that Spike had left his hair un-gelled – the natural waves and curls seemed to spiral everywhere, but on Spike it looked good. Angel had never really been able to do much with his hair – it always tended to stick up in the front, so he simply styled it that way. Spike snorted slightly. "Figures. Not that I think it was actually Cordelia, mind," he said, pushing back and pulling his legs carefully out from Angel's. He stood slowly, stretching before offering a hand to Angel. "Come on mate," he said sympathetically. Angel accepted his help.
"They're everywhere, Spike," Angel said, walking into the living room, the blonde vampire following him closely. "All these people I care about, all these people I lost along the way." The two sat down on one of the overstuffed and refinished couches. The upholstery was a wretched green and brown weave pattern, one Angel had seen back in the fifties. "All these fallen angels."
"Let's go kill something," Spike suggested. Angel, who was hunched over his legs, looked back at Spike as he reclined, his head leaning back on the top of the couch. "It's been weeks since the final fight we had and I am just itching for a good bit o' violence." Spike shot forward, his posture now hunched over his legs, elbows resting on his knees like Angel. "What d'ya say?" Angel smiled.
"I say, let's go to work."