Underneath the Grief - Part 9

When everyone else left my penthouse, Spike stayed behind with me. Of course. He'd practically been living here the past week or so, his clothes strewn all over the bedroom floor, his Weetabix crumbled on the kitchen counter, his empty blood mugs here and there around the apartment.

I sank into the couch carefully, the bullet wounds still healing and tight, and put my head in my hands, shutting out the lamplight. "Gunn stayed behind," I whispered, finally taking the time to process.

"That he did," Spike said softly, sinking down beside me with a wince. He ran his hand lightly over my back, petting me gently.

"Wes and Cordy are dead, Fred is crazy more often than not these days, and now Gunn is trapped in a hell dimension. Getting his heart cut out every day." My chest tightened with the grief and I felt cold tears brimming at my eyes. I sighed shakily, trying to catch a breath I didn't need.

"Mmm," Spike hummed in sympathy. He hadn't wanted to leave Gunn behind, and I was the one who insisted we leave him. Now I was regretting having to come to that decision, and he was being supportive. It was almost too much.

"And here I am with you," I laughed mirthlessly. "My new connection to the Powers, the man who tried to kill me a few months ago."

"But I didn't do it," he whispered, grabbing my chin and turning me to face him. "And not just because Buffy would have staked me." Spike ran his thumb back and forth over my cheek.

"Why, then?"

"Cause I knew this whole evil law firm is only temporary. The world needs us, Angel, more than ever with the Apocalypse goin' on right under our noses."

"It's…" I stumbled over my words as the tears escaped my eyes, trailing down my face and catching in the space between Spike's hand and my chin. "It's too much, Spike. The final Apocalypse, and I'm supposed to influence how it turns out?"

"Seems so, luv."

"How do we know it's not your place?" I pulled back from him, and Spike let his hand drop. "You've got your soul now; you've got the visions from the good guys. You're the champion everyone wants, not me."

"Oh, no," he said, standing up and pointing at me. "You don't get to give up. You were here first, it's your deal. I don't want it."

I wiped the tears from my face as I stood to face him. "You seemed more than ready to take my destiny from me at that opera house. You staked me!" My voice had risen to a loud yell.

"Well that was before, wannit?" Spike's shout was just as loud as he stepped forward, getting his face right up in mine.

"Before what? Before your damned visions?"

"Before you saw me!" He still looked furious, but his voice had cracked a bit with emotion.

Confused, I stepped back. My voice lost some of its volume as I asked, "What do you mean, Spike?"

"Then," he said quietly, "before, you didn't see who I am. Before, you only saw who I used to be. You could only see the evil creature you helped create. You could only see the man Buffy slept with. The vampire with a soul who wasn't you."

"And now? What do you think I see?"

"I think you see me as I am. An equal, a champion. A lonely wanker with really great hair and a penchant for trouble." Spike raised an eyebrow. "We're really not all that different."

"Ha! Now I think you're the one seeing things that aren't true. We're nothing alike." I realized after I had spoken that my voice held more animosity than I had meant it to, if the stricken look on Spike's face was any indication.

Spike took a moment, sighing, before he stepped closer to me. "Yeah," he said in a defeat that seemed to come too easily. "Maybe you're right. But is it really so bad, having me here?"

Crap. He could be so sensitive sometimes. "No," I admitted, sitting back down. "It's not that bad."

"Angel?" he asked, keeling down in front of me and putting a hand on my knee. "You know I'm here in this fight with you?" Looking up and searching my face, he waited for my nod before continuing, "So I have to ask, do you even like me? Because I can't go through that again."

"Go through what?"

"Sleeping with someone who doesn't like me. Letting you use me 'cause I'm convenient. Before I got my soul, what Buffy and I had was no good for either of us."

I hate it when he talks about Buffy, or I used to anyway. Now his words upset me more because he obviously felt so unappreciated. "Spike," I covered his hand with mine, noticing again the calming effect that came with any skin-on-skin contact between us. "Yeah, most of the time I like you. Even when I hated you, I liked you a little. I like who you are and I like having you around. I like not feeling so depressed and frustrated all the time."

"And what are we doing?"

"We're fighting, talking."

"No, you git. I mean us, together. What is this?"

"Do we have to talk about this now?" I stood up and walked around him, retreating to the middle of the room. All the Apocalypse talk with Lindsey, and Spike wanted to know about 'us'. In a few weeks, it probably wouldn't matter anymore.

"Yeah, I wanna talk about this now." He rose to face me, stepping closer but staying out of arm's reach.

"Ugh," I said turning from him. I didn't want to figure out what Spike meant to me. Especially since I had a feeling he meant more to me than I was ready to deal with. I just wanted to leave this conversation for another day and get some sleep. "You're such a woman sometimes."

"Is that why you're fucking me?" Spike yelled. "Because I remind you of a woman?"

Damn it. If I didn't fix this, Spike would leave along with Cordy and Wesley and Buffy. He promised to stay in the fight, but he wouldn't follow me around all the time. He wouldn't keep me company if I drove him away, and that possibility scared me more than I thought it would. Mouth dry, I stepped closer to him, raising a hand toward his arm. "Shit, Spike. That's not what I meant."

He batted my hand away. "What did you mean, then, Angel?"

I bypassed the question, knowing no good could come of the answer. "I'm fucking you because you're not a woman. You don't remind me of her."

Spike tilted his head, intense blue eyes scrutinizing me. "Of Buffy."

"Right. You don't remind me of Buffy, or Cordelia, or Darla." He let me step closer and put a hand to his face, tracing his cheekbone, his jawbone. "You're just you."

His hand covered mine, grasping my fingers. "And what are we doing?"

"I don't know," I said softly, letting our hands fall from his face and wrapping my fingers around his. "We can keep each other company, anyway. Relax, work off some of this frustration, try to do some good."

"So we're what? Lovers?"

"I don't know about that," I lied with a smile, "but we're friends anyway, right?"

"Yeah," he said, chuckling. "Friends who shag each other."

"Right." I leaned forward to kiss him. This relationship we had might be weird, but it was the best thing I had going for me. When our lips met, I threaded my arms around his neck, resting them on his shoulders. Through his lips and his tongue I could taste his blood, his soul, and I felt like he was more than a friend. He felt more like family, like a lover, like the best thing that had happened to me in a long, long time, but I wasn't about to tell him that.

As the kiss broke, Spike leaned back and said, "Fuck buddies?"

I laughed. "Must you be so crude?"

He scoffed, keeping a straight face as he asked, "Hi, I'm Spike, have we met?"

"Well since your hand is on my ass, I should hope so!"

He laughed sharply, and then winced. "Ugh. I think I'm a bit worse for wear tonight, Peaches."

"I know what you mean," I said, releasing him and leading the way into the bedroom. I changed into sweatpants carefully, trying not to tear the new skin that was already growing over the bullet wounds in my chest. Spike eased himself down on the bed, lying on top of the covers with his clothes still on.

"Do you need some help getting undressed?"

"Oh, baby," he crooned sarcastically. Spike pulled on the hem of his shirt, but he didn't get very far before he said. "Ow. Alright, pet. I lied. Give a bloke a hand, would ya?"

"Can you sit up?" I circled the bed coming to stand next to him as Spike righted himself. Gently, I pulled his shirt up and over his head, then over his arms, which he kept straight up to avoid stretching the skin on his back. "Pants, too?"

"Please," he nodded, laying back and sucking his cheeks in while giving me a look. He knows how devastating he looks when he does that, I'm sure of it.

"Knock it off," I scolded, unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans.

"What?"

I just raised my eyebrows at him as I pulled the pants off, fully exposing him. He smiled back at me, trying to start something. In response, I returned to my side of the bed, crawling under the covers and turning my back on him. I turned off the light and said, "Goodnight, Spike."

I felt him rustle the covers, joining me under them. Thankfully he kept his hands to himself, though he did let his shoulder and hips touch my back, his face just inches from the back of my neck. It's nice having someone again, but Spike could eat, sleep, and breathe sex if you let him. And with everything that had happened today, I wasn't about to let him. I was so exhausted that I actually had an impressively easy time putting Gunn and the Apocalypse out of my mind. Another night, either of those problems would keep me awake from dawn until dusk.

As it was, a few minutes later I was almost asleep, when Spike spoke softly, "Angel?"

"Hmm?"

"Whatever happened to that werewolf chick you were seeing?"

Our conversation must have dredged up something for him. Comparing himself to all my previous romantic partners, I supposed. "Why? Are you jealous?"

"A bit. She was hot!" He rumbled in appreciation of Nina's attractiveness.

I snorted a chuckle. "She was."

"But she's not around anymore?" Spike was joking around with me, but he was still acting insecure. I did say we were just friends, and I supposed wasn't the most secure of titles. I just wasn't ready to call him more.

"No," I said resolutely, trying to comfort him.

"What happened?"

I'd thought a lot about what had happened between Nina and me. Wesley said that the chances of me finding perfect happiness with anyone were almost infinitely small. But the more I got to know her, and the more I liked her… "I liked her too much," I told Spike, turning to face him in the dark.

"Ah," he said, "the curse."

"Yup." I know those gypsies had good reasons for why they did what they did, but that happiness clause had ruined so many things for me.

"And I don't make you happy?" Man, Spike liked to play the devil-may-care rebel with no cares and no ties, but he was awfully sensitive when you got to know him.

I pulled him closer, onto his side so he faced me, running my hand up and down his upper arm. "Just not perfectly happy," I reassured him. "You don't quite have the right physical attributes."

"Hey! I'll have you know I'm quite adequate."

I laughed. "No, you moron. I meant you're not a woman." I kissed him. "And yes, you're quite adequate."

"You're damn right. Don't you forget it, pet."

Chuckling, I shifted him closer and whispered, "I won't." I knew he was angry I wanted to keep us a secret and he probably wasn't too thrilled I'd told him we were just friends, but if I wanted to keep anything to myself and away from the Senior Partners, it was how I was starting to feel about Spike. It was just safer if no one knew. Including him.


A/N: And that's the end of this installment! Sorry there wasn't more smut there at the end (looking at you, Happyangsty), but I just didn't think the story called for it. I'm super proud of those last few lines (inspired by certain reader comments, so thanks!), and I thought they summed up this episode fairly well. I'm continuing to follow the end of season 5, so next up is an episode entitled 'Origin of the Lies' so keep an eye out for that story tomorrow. Thanks again for reading, and please review if you get a chance!

~Ptera