Disclaimer: I don't own Angel it belongs to Joss and probably someone else in a corner office.
Summary: Season five Angel. Post Shells. Wesley stumbles onto a history of Spike and Angelus's loves and losses thru out the years via a worn leather journal…
Chapter 1: My Sire's Waltz
"AHHHHHH! Spike. Out. Of. My. Office. Now!" "Fine! I'll go see what the Smurf is up to." Spike dusted off his leather coat and picked himself off the floor. He unexpectedly lost his balance when Angel threw the office phone at his head. Angel finally looked up to see Wesley walking towards him. "You and Spike really need to learn to at least have a civil conversation. One which doesn't end in you throwing office supplies." Angel just responded with an irritated grunt. Wesley was going to step forward when he almost tripped. He looked down to see a worn brown leather book. He picked it up wondering why Angel left this in the middle of the floor. "Angel, did you leave this here?" Angel barely glanced up from his desk. "No, that's not mine. It must be one of your books." Wesley didn't recognize it but also assumed the same. Wesley then looked to his watch. "Angel I'll speak with you later I have a meeting in five minute with the mystics."
It was well past eleven by the time Wesley reached his desk again. He placed some paper one his desk when that book caught his eye. He went and flipped threw the pages and realized that it wasn't a book, but a journal. He saw that all the hand writing was the same, a scrawling Victorian script. Then he noticed the ink. The first half of the book was in ink from a well and plume. The later half of the journal was in regular ball point pen. He opened the first page and saw the first date:
London 1812
I feel as thought I am seeing everything for the fist time with fresh eyes. The night is buzzing and calling to me. Drusilla says she can talk to the stars that they whisper in her ears. She seems a bit dafted, but she is my princess and savior. Sure she chose me and sired me, but Angelus is my sire. He made sure I understood that. He was in charge of everything. I do believe Darla is very unhappy Angelus took another childe, for this means he spends even less time with her.
The Whiskey on your breath
Could make a small boy dizzy;
But I hang on like death:
Such waltzing was not easy.
We romped until the pans
Slid from the kitchen shelf;
Your mother's countenance
Could not unfrown itself.
The hand that held my wrist
Was battered on one knuckle;
At every step you missed
My right arm scraped a buckle.
You beat time on my head
With a palm caked hard by dirt,
Then waltzed me off to bed
Still clinging to your shirt.
Angelus says Darla needs some time alone. And we are to take a vacation. The girls are staying behind. So only me and 'gelus are going. I wonder how cold it gets in Russia?
TBC
Thank you for reading. Please review! Begging now I can't find the name of the author of the poem, so I will post it later. I read it and thought that's so William! Oh 1812 was just a guess, so please don't flame for that. I know you want me to continue, Please review.