A/N: In the dictionary "strange" is defined as: unexpected, hard to explain, and difficult to understand. "Passing" is defined as: moving past, as in a car; transitory; and very or extremely- in the archaic form. Which makes 'Passing Strange' an apt title for this chapter. Also, I just couldn't think of annything better. If any of you can, let me know. Apologies to all for any grammatical errors or just plain wrongness. Feedback is always appreciated. This one is for Tina.
Disclaimer: Not mine. Never gonna be mine. Not making a profit here either.
Passing Strange
Spike was still sleeping. Spike had been sleeping since they left the last motel. Should he be sleeping so much? Angel didn't know but he was loathe to wake him; it could be just what Spike needed. Besides, if Spike was sleeping he couldn't be talking, could he? That was a guarantee right there that Angel would leave him be. There was really no reason to wake him up; Spike hadn't started shaking again and his fever hadn't gotten worse. It hadn't gotten better, but it hadn't gotten worse. Spike was going to be fine, though. Sure he was.
Crap. Almost missed his turn off. After another not-so-successful night of hunting, they had tried to figure out exactly how far Angel could drive on what gas they had left. Angel had wanted to head east. So why was he now driving north? Oh yes, Spike. It was all Spike's fault. Never had anyone been a bigger pain in his ass than Spike. That, of course, explained why they were stuck together for the foreseeable future. Angel obviously hadn't done enough to pay for his sins. This was penance. It was the only explanation he had for why he was still taking care of Spike so he was going with it. Denial was a wonderful thing.
Would the Earth really stop turning if Angel admitted that his very real hatred for Spike had somehow (and he really didn't know how) turned into not-quite-friendship? Maybe not. But it was best not to test that theory. He could be wrong.
Neither of them had mentioned that afternoon's bit of weirdness. It was business as usual even though Spike still wasn't saying much of anything. That worried Angel more than the shaking or the fever. Spike was always talking to him. It made Angel crazy and that may have been the whole point. Even when Spike was too weak to do anything else, he had still yammered on and on. Spike still managed to get under Angel's skin, even while dying. It was some kind of natural talent. Now that Spike wasn't talking, Angel worried. Maybe even missed his voice. And there was no way in hell Angel would ever admit to even thinking that.
At what point had Angel stopped enjoying brooding by himself in the dark so much? He loved to brood. He brooded all the time. But, before, there had always been Wesley with a new dire situation, or Fred with some esoteric formula for whatever, or Gunn with an interesting new weapon or boring legal brief to go over, or Harmony with some completely vapid thing, or Lorne with a horrid new nickname for him, or Cordy with anything under the sun, or Doyle with his drinking stories, or Illyria with her ill-concealed superiority complex. Since Sunnydale, since Buffy, here had always been someone talking to him; making sure he didn't become stuck in his own morosity. He'd gotten used to it. He'd looked forward to it. He would sometimes brood just so someone would come talk to him. Not all the time, he wasn't that pathetic, but every once in a while.
Hey wait a minute, what was that? An abandoned gas station? Pull car off road and out of sight behind the building. Well, the walls seemed to be in fairly good condition. No large holes anywhere that he could see. The roof was still on; always a plus, assuming he didn't want to become a vampiric pillar of fire when the sun rose. This was perfect. They could stay here indefinitely; at least, until they starved to death or the demon horde finally caught up with them. There was even a tired looking little diner and a ramshackle motel across the road. And wasn't it more than a little sad that he was this excited?
"Spike?" Nothing. Clear throat. Try again. "Spike?"
Why wasn't Spike answering him? Shut the car off and turn around. Oh shit. No Spike on the backseat. Damn it! Spike had dusted and Angel never even knew it. God, what was he going to do now? He hadn't let himself consider that Spike would actually die on him. Spike, in between snarking and driving Angel ape-shit crazy, would get better and they would either go their separate ways or, maybe, they would band together and start worrying the edges of the demon horde, pick them off one by one. That was the plan. They had never talked about it, but that was the plan. Now what the hell was he going to do?
"Angel? Why've we stopped?" And now here we have Spike popping up from the back floor of the car. Fucking Spike! It was a good damned thing Angel didn't have a heart that beat. Deep, calming breath.
"Spike." Several more deep, calming breaths. And now Spike had him breathing again. "What were you doing on the floorboard?" He should get bonus points for not twisting Spike's head right off. He really should.
"I like the sound and the vibration. It's soothing. What's wrong?" And now here we have Spike looking at him all sleepy and confused. Let's see, why would Angel be upset? Oh yes, Spikehad let Angel think he was DEAD! Okay, so maybe Spike hadn't meant to, but that was no excuse. Angel had thought he was DEAD. The part of him that had been relieved was now feeling guilty and pissed off and the part of him that had wanted to cry and rage was feeling embarrassed and pissed off.
"What do you think is wrong, Spike? I call your name; you don't answer. I look in the back seat; you're not there. It could be that I thought you were dead. Yes, yes, I think that could be it! That's exactly what's wrong. You let me think you were dead." Sarcasm was also a wonderful thing. And hey, ten extra points to him for not shouting. But subtract fifty for sounding so pathetic there at the end.
"Oh. I meant, why're we stopping? You thought I dusted? Would've thought you'd be happier about it. Free you up to go your own way. You wouldn't have to coddle the lame vampire anymore." Why had he ever thought he wanted Spike to talk to him? Oh right, the completely annoying sound of his voice. Sometimes Angel was extremely stupid.
"We're stopping because we're here." Complete refusal to acknowledge anything else Spike had just said.
"Angel-" Oh no. Spike was giving him the Look again. The last time thathappened it hadended weirdly. Well Angel was stopping that right now. They were not going down that road again. He didn't know what to do with Spike when he acted like that. Spike was brash and annoying and hyperactive. And Spike hated Angel. Spike was famous for hating Angel. Spike was not self-effacing or thoughtful or quiet, and he did not look at Angel like that; even though Angel wasn't exactly sure what 'that' was. The whole thing just reminded him too much of William and that was confusing him. And giving him a headache.
"I found an abandoned gas station. Come on. We'd better check it out. We've only got a few more hours til sunrise and I want to try hunting again before we sleep." Much too busy to talk about our feelings or whatever was about to come out of Spike's mouth. God knew, just about anything could.
Get out of the car before Spike can say anything else. Open Spike's door. Help Spike out. How the hell did he get himself down in there anyway? Let Spike lean on him. Start walking. Try not to notice the heat still coming off Spike or the smell of rotting flesh. No smell of fresh blood, thank the Powers. At least Angel wouldn't have to bandage him up again. If he had to go through that just once more, he might suggest they should both stay up and watch the sunrise- from the hood of the car.
It would be a moot point before too much longer anyway. They were starving and Spike was fading faster each day. He probably wouldn't last through another morning if Angel couldn't find enough animals for them to feed from. Once Spike was gone, Angel would likely just wait for the demon horde to come for him; take as many out as he could before they overwhelmed him. He had loosed destruction upon the land and he would be the one to stay its march. If only he could find one good feed, just one, Spike could start to heal. Then Angel would able to turn back with a clear conscience. He would hunt down and kill every single thing in the horde or destroy himself trying. His death wouldn't mean anything now anyway. Everyone he cared about was either already dead or better off without him. The world didn't need him anymore; he had done his part. The Powers That Be could kiss his ass. He couldn't do this anymore. And now he was getting morose again. Snap the hell out of it, Angel. Brooding was not going to help. Not that there was anything that could help this.
Angel found himself making bets on how long it would take for Spike to start ranting. The best thing that could be said was that this place was a pit. At least all the windows in the outer room were boarded over with plywood. The small office in the back would have to do for a bedroom. It didn't have any windows and Angel was sure he could figure some way to brace the broken door shut. He would have to find time to clean it out though. There was no way he was sleeping in it like this. There were beer and soda cans everywhere, pieces of rotting cloth and plastic bags, used condoms, rat feces, and dirt and shelving pieces strewn all over the floor. Not to mention the smell. Ah, home sweet home. Sometimes Angel hated his life.
"With a little work it won't be so bad. The walls are intact and the roof looks solid." Very smooth, very convincing. Angel could almost believe it himself if he didn't know he was lying.
"Yeah. It's... not bad." Who the hell was this? Angel missed the old smirking, snarking, smart-assed Spike. Well, not 'missed' exactly, but at least he knew what to expect from that Spike. The one he seemed to be stuck with today was confusing the hell out of him. Angel had the nagging feeling that something was going on here that he wasn't privy to.
"Here... you can... and... I'll just move this... and this chair should hold if you want to... here let me help." And now here we have Angel unable to string a whole sentence together. Why did he suddenly feel so lost? Angel had found shelter. He had saved them for one more day. Hell, he was still the one doing everything. He drove the car. He hunted. He took care of Spike. He made the plans. He was the one holding it all together. He was the strong one.
So why did Angel feel like he was drowning? He looked at this place, their situation, Spike, and he suddenly felt like he couldn't breathe. Damn it, he didn't need to breathe. He couldn't do this right now. Damn it all to hell! He was so tired of this crap. Angel hadn't slept in four days; he didn't need this right now. Maybe that was it, he was just exhausted. Could vampires suffer from sleep depravation? Maybe. Maybe they could. Well that's just all he needed, wasn't it? Let's just heap one more thing on top of good old Angel. He can take it. He's taken everything else. What's one more thing? The straw, that's what. The final fucking straw.
"Angel?" And now here we have the Look; up close and personal because Spike was still holding on to his arm. What was it Spike saw that made him look at Angel like that? What was he thinking? Angel didn't know but he wished Spike would just knock it the hell off. It was getting creepy.
"What, Spike?" Big sigh. Spike was going to start snarking at him. He knew it. It was only a matter of time. It was how this went. Or, at least, it had been.
"It's a good place. We could be right cozy here after awhile. Get some throw rugs or something. Assuming we don't die painfully in the next couple of days, of course." What? Did Spike even see what this place looked like? Was Spike playing with him? Was this some new Angel-baiting game he had come up with- number five hundred eighty-four on the list? What was going on here?
"Of course." What else could he say? "I'll just... there's only a few hours until sunrise. I'd better try hunting again. I'll be back as soon as I can." Walk out the door and don't look back. He could feel Spike still Looking at him, though, couldn't he?
It was nice and peaceful out here in the middle of nowhere. No alarms going off, no sound of gunshots, no voices raised in anger, no screams for help, or laments for the dead. But how long would it stay that way? The demon horde didn't give up. They would be found sooner or later and anyone in their vicinity would pay the price. How many in L.A. had died when the horde was set loose? How many more were dying right now somewhere in their wake?
If Angel had thought that he would've survived long enough to crawl out of the alley behind the Hyperion, he would have planned for this. He would've stashed weapons and money somewhere. He would've had a plan. Instead, he was on the run, with Spike of all people; and he was running out of options. This was the end of the line. What the hell where they going to do?
Wait. What was that smell? Deep breath. Horses? He had found horses! Damn, he was good. Okay, so they were standing in trailers in the middle of the motel parking lot across the road. That didn't matter. What mattered was that they were large enough for both he and Spike to feed from all they wanted. Spike would finally be able to feed well enough to start to heal.
Turn right around and run back into their new home.
"Spike!" What the hell! And now here we have Spike standing in the middle of the room holding a piece of broken wood. Leap into the room and grab Spike's wrist.
"Hey! Shove off, you git!" Press down until the bones grind together and Spike drops the damn stake. Deep breath... and now he was breathing again.
"Spike? What do you think you are doing?" Speak softly to the crazy vampire.
"What does it look like? Tryin' to be useful for once, aren't I? 'm cleaning up, you prat. I can goddamn well pick things up." Ahh... well, maybe Angel overreacted just a tad.
"No. You can't. You're too weak. You could fall and break the stitches open." And that couldn't be allowed to happen again. Neither of them would survive it.
"It doesn't matter, Angel. You don't have to keep patching me up. Not getting any better, am I? My nose still works. You don't think I can smell the rot? You don't think I can feel it eating away at me?" And there was the damned Look again. What was that? "I'm losing myself one bloody piece of flesh at a time. You hunt but there's never enough for both of us. I'm killing us. Better all round if I did dust. 'm tired of lying around waiting to get better. It's not gonna happen and we both know it."
And now Angel knows exactly what that look is. And he wishes to God he didn't. Shit! Everything just got a lot more complicated. As if it wasn't complicated enough already. Why did these things keep happening to him? Oh right, it was all Spike's fault, all Spike's fault...
"No." Soft voice. Look Spike in the eyes for the first time all night. Damn it, now they were both breathing.
"Angel-" He didn't want to hear it. Whatever it was, he didn't want to hear it.
"No. Just... no. We're not doing this now. Look, if you're strong enough to try to clean, you're strong enough to walk to the horses. I don't think I could get them to come over here anyway." He probably could but he was bound to make a lot of noise doing it and he would look extremely suspicious to anyone looking out from the motel rooms or passing by on the road.
"You poor, undead bastard. You've finally gone round the bend, haven't you? The pressure finally got to you. Completely tipped your trolley." What? What was Spike talking about now?
"Spike, I found horses." Small, simple words because obviously Spike wasn't tracking very well. Maybe the decay was moving up into his brain. Could Spike come back from that? If not, how long would he last? Would he even still be Spike in the end? Would Angel wind up having to stake him after all? Could he do that? Oh dear God, how could he look Spike in the eyes and stake him? He had done this; Angel had done this to him.
"I found you horses. Spike?" Very, very soft voice and he wasn't pleading at all. And if Angel's eyes were starting to sting it was just from lack of sleep and if his chest hurt, well, that was from lack of sleep also.
"Course you did. Nice big, fat ones, too, I imagine. Bet they were just waiting for you out on the road all docile-like. Good job, Angel. You did good." And now here we have Spike nodding his head and talking to Angel in a soft voice as if he was the one going quietly insane. And whyon earthwas Spike patting his hand like that?
"Spike... never mind." Angel could move faster on his own, he wouldn't have to share his kills, he wouldn't have Spike Looking at him or talking to him, he wouldn't have to worry about anybody but himself, but... then he would be alone; another voice gone silent, another friend lost by the wayside. Well, screw that. Angel was tired of seeing the people he... didn't-quite-hate die. He couldn't do it anymore. Come hell or high water, he was going to at least save Spike; whether Spike liked it or not.
He would just do this the easy way. Don't make eye contact. Bend down. One arm goes around Spike's back. Be careful of the shoulder. One arm goes under the knees. Stand up and try not to jostle him too much.
"What the hell are you doing?" Don't notice how much weight he's lost, how fragile he seems. Try to keep hands from clenching.
"I'm saving you." I'm saving me. Angel was getting the Look again. This time he returned it and watched Spike's eyes widen and then narrow in speculation. Angel could see the wheels turning but, in the end, Spike just smirked at him. God, he couldn't believe how good it was to see that. It was how this went. It was always how this went.
"Hey! Put me down, you great poof. Where the bloody hell do you think you're taking me?" Oh, yes! The 'Great Poof' comment. Angel had just been waiting for that one. Thank God. Oh, thank you, God. This, Angel could handle.
"I'm a great poof?" Strategically raised eyebrows. Smirk. And his eyes were still stinging but they were clear and his chest still hurt but his voice didn't waver at all. Walk to the door. "I think you're confused, Spike my boy. As I seem to remember, and please correct me if I'm wrong here, you were the one hugging me this afternoon."
"Never happened!" Angel would take what he could get and find his fun wherever he could; and if he made half the faces Spike was right now, it was no wonder Spike was always digging at him. Walk out the door and into the night.
"You were even snuggling." They hadn't fed yet but there was more life in Spike's eyes than Angel had seen in weeks. Spike, his Spike, was still in there.
"Were not. Hey, horses!" And now here we have Spike looking completely surprised. If Angel weren't afraid he would hurt or drop him, he would smack Spike in the back of his head. Note to self- make a list: Things To Do To Spike When He Got Better. If only he had a pen, or some paper.