Title: That Damn Happiness Clause
Writer: Azure K Mello
Disclaimer- Nothing is mine, not even my soul
Setting: Somnambulist! Keep in mind that I am a strong believer in the fact that one little thing can change the course of history, hence cannon gets meddled with because life took a different path my cannon is not Joss'.
Warning: SLASH Angel/Doyle. Spike/Xander. Don't like, don't read, don't flame.
Section rating: R
Part 22/?
Find the rest here:
~~ indicates starts and ends of flashbacks
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As they piled their bags into the car Xander watched his husband. "Are you all right?" he finally asked, "Only, you don't look alright."
"I'm fine, pet." There was no need to alarm the boy and then he said as it sudden;y occurred to him, "We've made a huge mistake." He laughed suddenly. "It's daylight, pet! Why would we fluy in daylight? These tickets are for six pm, *not* am!" He laughed again. "We're about to try to get on a plane in daylight! This is a good fucking idea! See? This is what happens when you get all excited and buy plane tickets the night before. We need to thinking things through." Xander looked crestfallen as it made sense to him. He had been too eager to think logically. "It's ok, love, it's only a two hour and forty-eight minutes. If we get on at six we'll be at the hotel by nine! And then we can see Vancouver's night life!"
This was good, it gave Spike time to figure out what was going on. For the past few nights he'd been having dreams. He was hunting, he found people, followed them, seduced them, gotten them to trust him. And then he had cut a cross into their faces just to scare them and make the blood taste that much better. It had never been one of his tactics though. He had never cut a cross into anyone's face. Angel and Penn had small thimble like things made for themselves. They were tiny metal knives that fit over their forefingers. And when they had hunted together they had always worn the weapons and marked their prey. Never once had William been invited to go on one of these hunts: he wasn't good enough. Why then was he dreaming about things he had only heard of? Was he still so desperate for Angelus' approval that he wished to imitate his "loving big brother"? Was he truly that pathetic? And what would Xander think? How would the boy feel when he realized that his lover still wanted it all so badly? The death, the mayhem, all that fire and life: he still wanted it so badly. The boy had said before that he knew that Spike only held back for him, that he was proud of the vampire. It was after that whole debacle with the slayer. He thought back to the conversation.
~~"And she didn't even think I was evil enough to kill, for Christ's sakes! I'm evil right? I may have been slightly domesticated, but so fucking what?" "Hush, of course you're evil. If it weren't for my presence you would kill everyone in this godforsaken town. But as it is the strength you show in controlling yourself is scary in and of itself."~~
Had the boy simply been placating him? Did Xander really understand what his mate was capable of? He couldn't lose the boy. Xander would never leave Spike, he couldn't, his very existence was dependant upon his staying with the blonde. But he could become distant, he could grow to hate and abhor Spike. And then where would the vampire be? Alone standing right next to his husband.
Maybe Angel could help him. His sire wouldn't judge his weak thoughts: he was too caught up in his own. Maybe Angel would know what Spike could do to avoid the dreams. He wanted to keep having them, wanted to live in them. But not if it was at the cost of losing his dark seraph. And he didn't like the fact that they centered around a relationship that he was never a part of. Far too voyeuristic for his taste. He wanted to be having dreams about fucking Xander into the floorboards, or having Xander inside of him, not fantasizing about a glorified version of the past. Dreams of a past that didn't belong to him.
He grabbed Xander as he turned around. Quickly he pulled the boy close. Xan, being Xan, just laughed. He had no idea what was going through Spike's head. How was he to know his lover's mind? These thoughts were fucking up the blonde's day. "It's two hours and forty-eight minutes? Only you, baby." Xander kissed his hyperactive husband's nose. "We haven't slept. Wanta go to bed?"
"Do we have to sleep?" asked Spike raising a scared eyebrow, thinking of the dreams and his oh-so warm pet.
"Hell no!" said Xander with a laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cordy felt like prying her eyes out of the socket's. She was bored. After they had gotten back Doyle had crashed while she made small talk with Wesley. He kept saying that if she wanted to sleep too that he would be fine alone until Angel got home. It had all sounded odd, as though he were giving her his blessing or something. As she liked having her head attached to her shoulders she figured she would stay out of Doyle and Angel's wedding bed. Angel was an easy going person. But it had been a long night, his lover had nearly gotten his eyes ripped out, and she had a feeling that he wouldn't appreciate her being curled up with his husband.
After breakfast she had gone home and curled up for a few hours and now she was back. . . and so was Wes. He was saying something about comparing the sitch on local evils. She had gotten four hours of sleep and he wanted to dish? And then he left and Angel and Doyle came up. It was like a bad farce! But maybe they had heard and had the good sense to stay downstairs. Angel looked awful! Unlike herself he had done nothing to cover the bags. Maybe it was the sever lack of sleep, neither he nor Doyle were standing or sitting comfortably. Say hello to the joys of post-near death situational sex. Of course those two didn't need an excuse, and good for them. They were both such brooders. But when they were together they were happy, content even. Were they in the same zip code, yes, then expect to find them in bed. . . or in that one unfortunate incident on Angel's kitchen table. There was a memory she would keep forever!
He was flustered and odd and talking about going to Kate, the cop, for help with something. Kate's name made Doyle's face darken. Surely he didn't think there was anything between his man and the woman?
Finally Cordy felt it was her duty, as his friend, to point out Angel's short comings, "Are you sure you're okay? I mean for a guy who's 200 plus, you're not usually," She pointed to her own eyes, "with the bags." Doyle smirked while Angel gave her a somewhat haunted look.
"I'm fine," he said finally when Doyle nudged him. Suddenly they turned at the sound of the elevator. Standing there Spike had an arm around Xander's waist and was sporting a look quite a bit like his sire's. "Canada?" asked Angel.
"Got the tickets wrong. Flying tonight. Figured we'd come see you." Spike pushed the boy gently towards the couch where Doyle was sitting. "How are you sleeping, Peaches?" he asked taking a good look at his sire's face. Maybe they were having some sort of mind meld, Angel always had links with his childer and maybe something was going on subconsciously.
Angel took one look at him and said, "You aren't still having nightmares are you?"
The blonde vampire wasn't buying that the older man had no idea what was going on, "Nightmares? No more like reminiscing over things that I was never a part of. How 'bout you, mate?"
On the couch the two humans exchanged looks, yes their bedmates had been sleeping roughly. What of it? Why would they be having the same dreams? And why were they both so freaked out? Neither of them were upset in their sleep: restless, yes, but upset? No. If anything the pairs dreams had been sweet to witness. Sleeping with the undead was unsettling. It was nice to see them fidget in their sleep, it reminded their lovers that they weren't dead. One night Xander had a nightmare and upon waking he had seen Spike unmoving chest. In a half dazed state he tried to give the vampire mouth to mouth. . . and then Spike erased the memory of the dream.
"Downstairs," Angel said simply and they walked down the stairs in a silence that could only be accomplished by the walking dead. Gospel the apostles vicious
Writer: Azure K Mello
Disclaimer- Nothing is mine, not even my soul
Setting: Somnambulist! Keep in mind that I am a strong believer in the fact that one little thing can change the course of history, hence cannon gets meddled with because life took a different path my cannon is not Joss'.
Warning: SLASH Angel/Doyle. Spike/Xander. Don't like, don't read, don't flame.
Section rating: R
Part 22/?
Find the rest here:
~~ indicates starts and ends of flashbacks
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As they piled their bags into the car Xander watched his husband. "Are you all right?" he finally asked, "Only, you don't look alright."
"I'm fine, pet." There was no need to alarm the boy and then he said as it sudden;y occurred to him, "We've made a huge mistake." He laughed suddenly. "It's daylight, pet! Why would we fluy in daylight? These tickets are for six pm, *not* am!" He laughed again. "We're about to try to get on a plane in daylight! This is a good fucking idea! See? This is what happens when you get all excited and buy plane tickets the night before. We need to thinking things through." Xander looked crestfallen as it made sense to him. He had been too eager to think logically. "It's ok, love, it's only a two hour and forty-eight minutes. If we get on at six we'll be at the hotel by nine! And then we can see Vancouver's night life!"
This was good, it gave Spike time to figure out what was going on. For the past few nights he'd been having dreams. He was hunting, he found people, followed them, seduced them, gotten them to trust him. And then he had cut a cross into their faces just to scare them and make the blood taste that much better. It had never been one of his tactics though. He had never cut a cross into anyone's face. Angel and Penn had small thimble like things made for themselves. They were tiny metal knives that fit over their forefingers. And when they had hunted together they had always worn the weapons and marked their prey. Never once had William been invited to go on one of these hunts: he wasn't good enough. Why then was he dreaming about things he had only heard of? Was he still so desperate for Angelus' approval that he wished to imitate his "loving big brother"? Was he truly that pathetic? And what would Xander think? How would the boy feel when he realized that his lover still wanted it all so badly? The death, the mayhem, all that fire and life: he still wanted it so badly. The boy had said before that he knew that Spike only held back for him, that he was proud of the vampire. It was after that whole debacle with the slayer. He thought back to the conversation.
~~"And she didn't even think I was evil enough to kill, for Christ's sakes! I'm evil right? I may have been slightly domesticated, but so fucking what?" "Hush, of course you're evil. If it weren't for my presence you would kill everyone in this godforsaken town. But as it is the strength you show in controlling yourself is scary in and of itself."~~
Had the boy simply been placating him? Did Xander really understand what his mate was capable of? He couldn't lose the boy. Xander would never leave Spike, he couldn't, his very existence was dependant upon his staying with the blonde. But he could become distant, he could grow to hate and abhor Spike. And then where would the vampire be? Alone standing right next to his husband.
Maybe Angel could help him. His sire wouldn't judge his weak thoughts: he was too caught up in his own. Maybe Angel would know what Spike could do to avoid the dreams. He wanted to keep having them, wanted to live in them. But not if it was at the cost of losing his dark seraph. And he didn't like the fact that they centered around a relationship that he was never a part of. Far too voyeuristic for his taste. He wanted to be having dreams about fucking Xander into the floorboards, or having Xander inside of him, not fantasizing about a glorified version of the past. Dreams of a past that didn't belong to him.
He grabbed Xander as he turned around. Quickly he pulled the boy close. Xan, being Xan, just laughed. He had no idea what was going through Spike's head. How was he to know his lover's mind? These thoughts were fucking up the blonde's day. "It's two hours and forty-eight minutes? Only you, baby." Xander kissed his hyperactive husband's nose. "We haven't slept. Wanta go to bed?"
"Do we have to sleep?" asked Spike raising a scared eyebrow, thinking of the dreams and his oh-so warm pet.
"Hell no!" said Xander with a laugh.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Cordy felt like prying her eyes out of the socket's. She was bored. After they had gotten back Doyle had crashed while she made small talk with Wesley. He kept saying that if she wanted to sleep too that he would be fine alone until Angel got home. It had all sounded odd, as though he were giving her his blessing or something. As she liked having her head attached to her shoulders she figured she would stay out of Doyle and Angel's wedding bed. Angel was an easy going person. But it had been a long night, his lover had nearly gotten his eyes ripped out, and she had a feeling that he wouldn't appreciate her being curled up with his husband.
After breakfast she had gone home and curled up for a few hours and now she was back. . . and so was Wes. He was saying something about comparing the sitch on local evils. She had gotten four hours of sleep and he wanted to dish? And then he left and Angel and Doyle came up. It was like a bad farce! But maybe they had heard and had the good sense to stay downstairs. Angel looked awful! Unlike herself he had done nothing to cover the bags. Maybe it was the sever lack of sleep, neither he nor Doyle were standing or sitting comfortably. Say hello to the joys of post-near death situational sex. Of course those two didn't need an excuse, and good for them. They were both such brooders. But when they were together they were happy, content even. Were they in the same zip code, yes, then expect to find them in bed. . . or in that one unfortunate incident on Angel's kitchen table. There was a memory she would keep forever!
He was flustered and odd and talking about going to Kate, the cop, for help with something. Kate's name made Doyle's face darken. Surely he didn't think there was anything between his man and the woman?
Finally Cordy felt it was her duty, as his friend, to point out Angel's short comings, "Are you sure you're okay? I mean for a guy who's 200 plus, you're not usually," She pointed to her own eyes, "with the bags." Doyle smirked while Angel gave her a somewhat haunted look.
"I'm fine," he said finally when Doyle nudged him. Suddenly they turned at the sound of the elevator. Standing there Spike had an arm around Xander's waist and was sporting a look quite a bit like his sire's. "Canada?" asked Angel.
"Got the tickets wrong. Flying tonight. Figured we'd come see you." Spike pushed the boy gently towards the couch where Doyle was sitting. "How are you sleeping, Peaches?" he asked taking a good look at his sire's face. Maybe they were having some sort of mind meld, Angel always had links with his childer and maybe something was going on subconsciously.
Angel took one look at him and said, "You aren't still having nightmares are you?"
The blonde vampire wasn't buying that the older man had no idea what was going on, "Nightmares? No more like reminiscing over things that I was never a part of. How 'bout you, mate?"
On the couch the two humans exchanged looks, yes their bedmates had been sleeping roughly. What of it? Why would they be having the same dreams? And why were they both so freaked out? Neither of them were upset in their sleep: restless, yes, but upset? No. If anything the pairs dreams had been sweet to witness. Sleeping with the undead was unsettling. It was nice to see them fidget in their sleep, it reminded their lovers that they weren't dead. One night Xander had a nightmare and upon waking he had seen Spike unmoving chest. In a half dazed state he tried to give the vampire mouth to mouth. . . and then Spike erased the memory of the dream.
"Downstairs," Angel said simply and they walked down the stairs in a silence that could only be accomplished by the walking dead. Gospel the apostles vicious