Title: Dead
Asleep Dreaming
Author: JINX /
Buffywatcher
Feedback:
Constructive comments always welcome: jinxascendant@hotmail.com
Pairing: S/A
Rating: R to
soft NC-17’ish
Spoilers: Some for
the last episode of Buffy and scattered ones for Angel’s last Season.
Warnings: Just the
usual M/M relationship stuff, language…
Disclaimer: Just
borrowing them for a bit of harmless fun. All characters, recognisable
likenesses are retained by their owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s Notes: This
story takes place in an AU setting. Please excuse any minor discrepancies or
artist license. As always thanks are going out to GF and Myst my most excellent
Beta/Editors.
Writer’s Credits: This
story uses the song ‘I’ve been delivered’ By The
Wallflowers and the poem ‘Alone’ by Edgar Allan Poe. Special thanks to Lil
Bear, for her invaluable assistance in making this story a reality.
Distribution: If I’ve
already been given permission to archive my work please consider it yours if
you want it. If I haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask
is that you email me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit. *If you’re
one of my regular archivists you don’t need to email.*
Summary: There
are times when the hardest person in the world to forgive…is yourself.
*Thoughts &
Introspective comments from Angel*
*Recitations & Songs*
*
Chapter One
He hears the doors open
behind him but he doesn’t turn around. Within the first initial seconds, the
scents wafting on the air has told him who he’ll see when he turns around but
maybe, just maybe, he can ignore them if he doesn’t have to look at them.
“It’s over Angel. The Hellmouth is closed…permanently
and Sunnydale’s a huge smoking crater. We’ve done it, we won.”
He closes his eyes on a
wince as that stridently girlish voice scrapes across his ears like sandpaper.
Why didn’t he notice just how much of a child she is, he has clothing older
than she is, and this is supposed to be the great love of his life? It’s all…pointless,
fancying that he was in love with a human girl that is barely old enough to
drink but whose life will pass by in a blink of his eye.
“Angel? Angel, are you listening to me?”
If he closes his eyes
tight enough maybe he can convince himself it’s all dream, he’ll wake up and he
won’t be alone anymore. The sound of the doors opening again, bringing a
familiar and welcome scent with their movement is a welcome relief.
“Wesley…something’s wrong with Angel, he’s not
listening to me! He just stands there staring out the window!”
If he punctures his ear
drums he wonders how long he’ll be deaf until they regenerate…maybe it will be
long enough. He sighs and knows that he’s being unfair to his former love but
all he can deal with, is that her hair is not the shade of blond he was hoping
to see walk through his door.
“There’s nothing wrong
with Angel, Buffy. He is in mourning and I think you should all just head for
your Hotel and let him be.”
Thank you for saying
that Wesley, you’ve been a good friend. I just wish that your accent was the
one I am aching to hear right now.
“In mourning, for whom or what? It doesn’t look like you have much to mourn sitting
at the top of the city like this.”
What would you truly
know of grief Little Slayer? You’ll die one day and wing your way to Heaven or
whatever lies beyond. Well I suppose you could tell me about what it was
like…you were there already weren’t you? What is waiting for me at the bottom
of that last long pitfall isn’t going to be as pleasant. You can look forward
to seeing your loved ones again, beyond all the limitations and the strife of
your mortal life. The best that I can hope for is that I *won’t* see my loved
ones again. That would mean they were consigned to the same Hell I’ll be in.
I couldn’t believe it
when you told me so casually that my Wil had a soul; like it’s as common an
occurrence as crossing a street. How I hated myself for being so irreverent and
flippant about it, like it was competition that I’d some how lost. I couldn’t
let you see how much it affected me, how hard I had to fight to leave my boy
and go when you sent me away. Did you know Buffy, how you turned my world
upside down with those five little words? He has a soul now. He…was like me.
Did you see the truth in my eyes, is that why you sent me away? We both know
that if you had failed…if he had failed, that a thousand second fronts wouldn’t
have stemmed the tide. What made me worth so much more than my boy, what made
me worth saving, when he was worth four of me?
“He’s grieving for…family Buffy.” Wesley says quiet,
his voice faltering slightly. “He felt Spike’s…he felt him pass and no less
than ten minutes after that, he felt Drusilla do the same.”
“What?” Several voices cry out in shock.
Foolish mortals, your
lives are too short, too limited to understand the depths of what they were, of
what I am. I was just as foolish as I am for not realising that myself. I
thought I couldn’t love without a soul, that it magically made me something
more than I was before. He was so much more than I was, he knew the deepest
truths and he faced them and overcame them, while I hid from them and pretended
they didn’t exist. He was a better man as a Demon than I was with a soul at
times, isn’t that funny? You take my soul and Angelus walks and people die.
Take my boy’s soul and he’ll shrug and still be my boy. That was his gift, to
reach beyond what any words and any truths should have applied to him. A
Vampire shouldn’t love, can’t love. A Vampire shouldn’t save the very prey he
was bred to feed upon. A Vampire can’t care more for another than they do for
themselves. A Vampire shouldn’t love a Slayer…or a Sire without a soul…with the
same depths of unwavering devotion. A Vampire shouldn’t be a lot of things.
My boy was all of them.
“Why would he be mourning for Drusilla?” Buffy asks
incredulously. “Spike I can at least understand, he had a soul, he died to save
all of us.” She says genuinely confused. “Drusilla was just a Vampire.”
Her words finally snap him out of his introspective
fog. “So am I.” He turns to face them slowly and they flinch at the dead light
in his eyes. “So was Spike. But they were more than that or any other name or
label you want to stick on them. They were my Childer, my *family*, all that was left…get out.” He turns back to his blind
contemplation of the glittering city below.
Just get them out Wes,
please. Get them out of my sight before I’m tempted to show them what it’s like
to be really and utterly alone.
He’s glad to hear the sounds of Wesley herding everyone
out, forcibly in some cases, so he’s all the more surprised to feel a hand on
the back of his shoulder. He turns ready with a vocal blast when he falters and
falls silent at the sight of an unfamiliar young man.
He’s a rather nondescript looking puppy of a young man
who looks as though a strong breeze could send him tumbling to the floor but
the hand on his back doesn’t tremble and his eyes are kind. He holds out a
video cassette.
“My name is Andrew. Spike was my friend and I’m going
to miss him too.” His voice trembles slightly and his eyes glitter softly with
unshed tears as he holds the tape closer. “This is for you. He wanted you to
have it…in case something happened to him.” He pitches his voice low, knowing
that he can be heard as easily as if he were shouting.
He takes the tape and pulls it against his chest and
clings to it tightly but carefully tempers his strength so that he doesn’t
crush the fragile plastic. “Thank you, Andrew.” He says quietly.
The young man marshals a sad smile and nods before
turning to follow Wesley and Giles as they all but physically carry Buffy
through the doors to Angel’s office. He doesn’t watch them leave, trusting that
Wesley will see his will done and he heads for the private elevator to his
penthouse apartment.
He doesn’t bother with the lights but heads right for
the entertainment centre. After a few terse moments of muttered expletives he
manages to figure out how everything works and starts the tape. He sits down
heavily as the picture suddenly appears only to jump madly in a dizzying
display and that voice forever imprinted on his memory suddenly fills his ears.
“Andrew…Andrew! Will you calm down and breathe!”
Spike’s voice sounds surprisingly warm and friendly but distinctly amused.
“It’s a good thing Vampires don’t get nauseous or Angel would be making you pay
for his shoes right now; the way that cameras jerking all over the place he’d
have tossed his cookies for sure.”
Angel doesn’t bother to hide a smile as the camera
quickly steadies and Spike’s image finally appears out of the chaos. He’s
sitting on a cot in what appears to be a basement. He’s dressed in his usual
black denim and cotton skin but minus the ubiquitous black duster that has
become almost as recognisable as his hair. His hair isn’t slicked back as
aggressively as usual and it curls and waves, lightly tousled as though his
hands had been running through it. His demeanour seems soft, almost reminiscent
of the man he once was as a human and a fledgling Vampire.
“I’ll just set it here Spike and you remember how to
turn it off when you’re done?” Andrew’s voice asks from off-camera.
“Yeah Mate, I remember.” The view is chaotic for a
moment as the camera is moved and a pair of hands appears briefly over the
view-finder, adjusting it until Spike is once more in centre frame. “Thank you
for this Andrew, it’s a big favour and I appreciate it.” He’s surprised to hear
Spike being almost affectionately cordial with the young man.
“No problem Spike. I’m glad that I could do something
to help you. I don’t have many friends…well any left that I didn’t get tricked
into killing anyway. I wanted you to know that, that’s important to me. If I
don’t make it through tomorrow, at least I’ll know I managed to help one
person.” Andrew says from off-camera once more.
Angel watches as Spike stands and makes a beckoning
motion and Andrew appears in the frame. He watches as Andrew fidgets nervously
as Spike reaches out to cup his face with the hands that for all their
deadliness have never lost their graceful softness of his human life as a
scholar. The kiss he is witness to is almost pure it is so innocent, the
lightest brushing of their lips but the young man looks as though he’s just
received the finest gift he’s ever known. He finds he’s glad that Andrew didn’t
offer to stay and watch this with him or he’d have been tempted to taste those
lips himself for any remaining trace of his Precious Boy that should linger
there.
Spike releases him with a final dusting of his lips
across his forehead and the young human almost floats off-screen followed
shortly by the sound of footsteps and the sight of feet flitting up the
staircase.
“Well Mate in case you missed it; that was Andrew.”
Spike says as he sits down on the cot, leaning his back against the wall and
contorting his body with the easy grace that he has always envied. “I’m sure by
now you’re wondering why I wanted to make this for you.”
Watching raptly, Angel finds that he’s nodding. As
though Spike would somehow see it and wishing then with all of his might that
Spike could be there to see it.
“I was there, earlier, in the graveyard. I saw you in
the tomb, with Buffy.” Spike leans back against the wall, bracing his booted
foot on the edge of the bed and lights a cigarette, before allowing it to drape
over his raised knee.
Angel winces and flinches as he forces himself not to
apologise to a man no longer there to hear it and not really even sure what
he’d have been apologising for doing.
“Before you get your no doubt pure silk boxers in a
bunch, that’s not what this little tape is about.” Angel relaxes. “I’m not
going to fool myself Angelus; I’m not expecting to come back tomorrow. I need
for you to promise me something on that soul that you’re so proud of. You have
to take care of Dru for me and I mean
look out for her, no more setting her on fire you bloody git!”
Angel flinches again. I take it she must have stopped off in Sunnydale while she and Darla
were making my life a living hell.
“She came back for me Angelus. She killed for me so
that I could feed. It’d been so long…I almost gave in and went with her.” Spike
takes a puff of his cigarette, expelling it in a leisurely cloud. “She told me
about Darla and what you did to them and I offered to stake her for Buffy.
Funny innit it Sire? She was my existence for over a century, but I was never
good enough for her until you decided to set her on fire? I’m glad Dru got
away, even if Buffy had wanted it, I don’t think I could have done it, not to
my Princess…not to the last tie that connected me to you.” Spike glances away
as he says the last part, showing an unusual interest in the smoke curling up
from his cigarette.
Angel sits up straight and he knows that his mouth is
hanging open and he must look truly comical.
“I’d love to see your face right now; it’d be worth dying a second time to see it
without a doubt.” Angel closes his mouth with a snap. “I don’t know what Dru
will do when…well, after I’m gone. Promise me you’ll find her and help her
Angelus. It’s not her fault she’s as loony as a Dodo and she’s still your
Childe.” Spike stabs his cigarette towards the camera screen emphasising his
words.
“You can’t abandon your responsibilities just because
you have a soul Angel. I know that we’re reminders you’d rather not have, of
things you’d wish you’d never done but you are our maker, our Sire, and our
shaper. I can take care of myself, I’m a survivor but Dru, she needs a Keeper,
someone to take care of her and keep her out of trouble. Teach her to be like
you Angel; she’ll do it to please you. She was always yours and she can be
again.” Spike takes another drag of his cigarette, fidgeting somewhat before
settling down into a thoughtful silence.
You’re wrong Wil, in the
end she was yours. I broke her, made her mad as a hatter, taught her to find
the pleasure in pain, used her to hurt you because it amused me, I set her on
fire and her unlife went on. She couldn’t exist without the knowledge that you
were out in the world, even if you weren’t with her. She walked out into the
sun and just let it take her, I’m sorry Wil. I’ve failed you even in that.
“If you can’t help her Angel, or your soul just won’t
bend that far, don’t leave her to suffer in the world alone. Find her and make
it quick, don’t make her pay for a past you don’t want to face.” Spike says
looking away from the camera and surreptiously rubbing his eyes violently for a
moment.
“I’ve asked Andrew to be sure that you get
this…afterwards…if he makes it through. He’s a good bloke, though a right ponce
at times and a bit of a tosser. I’d appreciate it if you’d use some of those
swanky new resources of yours to keep an eye on the barmy git; he’s alright for
a Human. Don’t you go adopting him or anything idjit like that, he’s effeminate
enough as it is, why be sure he’d
have no hope except to be a ponce?”
Spike turns back to face the camera, stubbing the nub
of his cigarette out on the sole of his boot and turning to look at the camera
again. “I know I don’t have to ask you to look after Buffy, but don’t you
forget my Lil Bit too or I’ll find a way to claw my way back out of Hell to
kick your ass, you Tosser. Buffy, well she’s not the girl you knew Peaches,
she’s a woman now, but she’s not as strong as she thinks that she is. She’ll
need someone strong to carry her when she stumbles…I guess if that can’t be
me…” Spike lowers his voice and glances away from the camera again. “I guess I
could stand knowing that you were the one who would be there to help her.” He
mutters.
Angel blinks and rears back, not sure what to make of
what Spike’s said, but touched by the faith and surprisingly enough the trust
inherent in it.
“I have a soul too.” Spike blurts out suddenly,
picking furiously at the specks of imaginary link on his black jeans. “I fought
for it…and I…won…it…no bad Spike comes back happiness clause. I told Giles all
the details and he’ll no doubt tell Wesley if you haven’t solved that whole
happy making soul go bye-bye thing of yours.” Spike sniffs and looks gruff. “I
was going to end on a happy note and insult you for half an hour or so just to
make me happy, but I’ve decided on something a bit more…fitting.” Spike reaches
under his pillow and pulls out a smallish book bound in a red and black leather
binding. He opens it and clearing his throat begins to read, his accent
softening and returning to the cadence of his human youth.
From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common
spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me
rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
Angel leans forward and presses his fingertips to the
screen. He recognises both the poem and the book, surprised that Spike had kept
it for all these years.
Spike clears his throat again and closes the book
carefully, mindful of its great age and sentimental value. “I know that one was
always your favourite.” He traces his fingertips over the embossed cover of the
book. “I’ve never let this out of my sight since you gave it to me. It goes
with me everywhere that I go. If I take the last journey, this will be with me
and part of you will be with me and I won’t be alone.” Spike holds the book to
his chest and folds his hands over it protectively. “I guess that’s really all
that I have to say, besides that I love you Angel, Angelus, Liam…whatever your
name is and/or all of them. Remember me, if not fondly than kindly? I hope you
won’t be hurt if I say that I hope we’ll never meet again? I think I’d rather
imagine you somewhere…other than where I’ll be ending up. Thank you, Sire.”
Spike gets up and walks off camera and then the screen goes dark and snowy as
the recorded part of the tape runs out.
After a moment, Angel staggers to his feet, ejects the
tape and grabs it to his chest, clinging to it with a furious strength as he
dives for the bar. Maybe if he drinks enough, he can forget for a while. If
only for a little while, that his boy is gone and he’s not coming back.
Chapter Two
He’s back where he started and he knows it as a quiet
knock heralds the unobtrusive presence of his Executive Assistant. He doesn’t
bother to turn away from the window and the sight of its bustling streets and
floods of humanity. The one face he longs to see is the one that he knows he’s
never going to find. Yet he keeps looking all the same. Sometimes he thinks
that the searching is the only reason he’s still sane. He lifts the glass to
his lips and gulps down the contents; the burning of the alcohol is a pleasant
sting, the false warmth spreading through his belly a welcome relief to the
aching emptiness.
“Mr Wyndham-Price called, Sir. He’s requested that the
staff meeting be pushed back an hour.”
Angel looks over his shoulder with a sigh. “I’ve told
you Andrew, just call me Angel; you don’t need to call me Sir. Call Wes and
tell him that will be fine. Did you take care of that other matter?”
Andrew holds onto his clipboard and papers tightly.
“Yes, I did precisely what you requested. The sum of three hundred and fifty
thousand dollars was hand delivered to Mrs. Chase per your instructions. She
believes that her daughter has married a wealthy recluse and is living like a
Queen in the south of
He turns back to the window. “Thank you, Andrew.
You’re as efficient as always.”
“Miss Ash called as well to remind you that you’re
taking her to the Opera tonight. I’ve picked up your tickets and made the
dinner reservations and the limo will be here at eight sharp.”
“Do whatever you have to do, but get a third ticket
Andrew and messenger it over. Send the limo and tell Nina that dinner is on me
with my compliments, but that I won’t be able to make it and suggest she take
her Sister and Niece instead.” He says wearily. “Have one of our personal shoppers pick her up something nice and have it delivered to
her.”
“Harmony and I will take care of it ourselves.”
Andrew’s voice betrays no surprise. “Jewellery again?”
His voice is neutral revealing no emotions, but Angel knows that if he turns
around to look, he’ll be able to see the concern in Andrew’s eyes.
“Perhaps a nice necklace?” His fingertips brush the amulet around his throat as
it lies safely concealed beneath his shirt. No one was more surprised than he
was when he opened a mysterious package in his mail and the very amulet that he
gave to Spike fell out onto the floor at his feet. At first everyone jumped
back afraid of what it’s sudden reappearance could have meant, but Wesley and
Fred eventually proclaimed it drained and harmless. Whatever it was before, it
was nothing more than just a piece of gothic and somewhat pretentious jewellery
now. It’s become more than that to him though, it’s a symbol of what he’s lost
and a sign of the bravery of one man’s sacrificed existence. From the moment it
was judged to be safe, it has never left contact with his skin.
It’s curious, but sometimes he has the strange
impression that it is almost whispering to him, in those quiet flashes of a
second when everything is utterly quiet and still. It never lasts for more than
the briefest fraction of a second, but sometimes he gets the fanciful
impression it’s almost trying to tell him something. That’s usually right
before he decides he’s finally had enough to drink that particular day
however.
“I’ll call Maxim’s, I’m sure they must have a necklace
to go with those emerald and diamond earrings you got her last month.” Andrew
says, jotting something down on his clipboard. “Harmony will be in to go over
the notes from the last meeting and the pending business for today. There isn’t
anything major on the books. You’re appointments are booked solid until just
after seven. Fred asked me to ask you if you could stop by her lab this
afternoon. Apparently some mysterious sarcophagus was delivered and no one can
seem to find out how it got through security or where it came from.”
“Alright I’ll head down there now; if you could let
Harmony know to meet me down there, she can brief me on the way back for the
meeting.” Angel decides setting his glass down and running his hands over his
jacket to make sure he’s presentable.
Andrew nods and makes another notation on his
clipboard and follows Angel from his office, peeling off to stop by Harmony’s
desk and pass on the message before attending to his own duties.
Chapter Three
Angel strides through the maze of corridors and
passages that double back and triple back on themselves with focused expression
on his face. If only the people scurrying out of his way or abruptly choosing
to turn down a corridor away from where they were intending to go, should know
that it is all a ruse.
I wonder if Andrew knows
it’s been six months to the day since Spike…since he’s been gone. He probably
does, he seems to know everything else about me. I wonder just how much Spike
talked about me that Andrew seems to know me so well. Well Spike, I hope you’re
happy wherever you are that your little pup decided to accept my job offer. I
should thank you, he’s possibly saved my sanity and I feel…closer to you when
he’s around. I think I understand what you see in him. He’s even calmed harmony
right down; she’s only mildly annoying now. I wonder what you’d think of that
little relationship my boy, your pup and your ex whatever she was as roommates
and best pals.
Angel turns down the corridor and barely notices the
security guard on duty, leaping up to admit him through the heavy metal doors
that shield the building’s research division.
You’d probably love it
my Boy, you always were perverse. What a pitiful tragedy my life has become my
Precious Lad. I sold my body to a corporate shark to save a son that doesn’t
even remember me. I’m stuck in an affair with a beta werewolf that frankly has
begun to feel more like babysitting than dating. Do you think it’s a bad thing
to wish it was a full moon every night so I could lock her in a cage and not
feel guilty about it? Lorne’s so lost that half the time we can’t even find him
in the building. Gunn’s mind is leaking whatever Wolfram & Hart actually
shoved in there. I sometimes wonder if they didn’t push so much in there that
they pushed some of him out. Do you think he even knows that he’s changed from
the man he used to be? You’re right my Lad, he probably doesn’t at that. I
think we have it easy sometimes, not having a reflection at all. Then we can’t
get upset when we realise that we don’t recognise the person looking back at us
anymore.
I wish I had known how
much that signature was truly costing me when I signed it. Would I still have
signed it? I don’t honestly know. I made the decision and I cloaked it behind
the veil of choice, always assured that my friends would choose as I wished
them to. I brought us to this place and I have damned us all for it. Connor,
Cordy, Drusilla, even Darla, and you my beautiful boy, all of you have been
laid upon the altar of my decision, and all of you paid in blood. I would have
given the others if you could be with me now my Lad. Do you think poorly of me
for that, disappointed in the hero’s tarnished honour? The imperfect God with
feet of clay, who would give his dearest blood to have you once more beside me,
how funny you would have found that Lad.
Would you have liked it
here Wil? Yes, I think you would have too…so many people to annoy all trapped
in one confined space; it would have been a toy box of fun for you wouldn’t it?
I would have brought you here, I would have, and you have to know that right?
I…I just wasn’t thinking right when Buffy told me about your soul. I was too
hung up on worrying whether or not I’d signed mine away or not and so busy
worrying over my son that I didn’t think about my Childe. I’m sorry Wil…
Angel pushes through the heavy swinging doors of
Fred’s lab and hurries over to a choking and wheezing Fred, who is leaning
weakly against her lab assistant.
“Fred what’s wrong? What happened here?” He demands,
pulling Fred away from the clinging lab technician and wrapping her in his arms
and lifting her easily. “I’m taking her to be checked out. When I come back I
expect to be told exactly what happened in here.” He ignores the trembling
franticness of the nods from the man as he sweeps out of the room with his
precious burden.
Chapter Four
If ever he wondered if coming to Wolfram & Hart
had been the right decision, the pile of bodies and dirty business that have
been adding up more than answers his question.
Hauser, died by his hand during a wilful act to prove
his authority; making a point to the more militant of his new subordinates.
It seemed like a good
idea at the time.
Corbin Fries, proof positive that evil isn’t confined
to the soulless Demons of the world. They were forced to get released on a
technicality so he wouldn’t unleash a biological plague, hidden in the body of
his own son, on the city. They managed to save the boy but at what cost to the
lives Fries will continue to ruin as a free member of society? A society they
helped keep him in?
Not one of the days I
was really proud to admit to working here during. Well come to think of it, I
don’t think I’ve actually had a day where I was proud to be here.
Magnus Hainsley, a Necromancer and the all-around
proof that death isn’t always the end for unlucky. Killed and beheaded after a
vicious fight that almost ended his existence.
It was a good thing that
Wes found a way to interfere with his magic or I wouldn’t have had a ghost of a
chance to win that one. Truthfully I wish sometimes that I hadn’t, I’d have at
least stood a chance of being reunited with my boy. Sure it may have been in
Hell but like this place is a paradise.
The names and faces all blur and run together in his
mind becoming a tangle of amorphous images and ever changing shades of pain. A
decision made by his Father’s heart in desperation but that everyone but
himself has been called to pay for.
So many people dead,
lost, or dying because we came here, because *I* came here and they blindly
followed me. Is one life worth the lives of three? I bought Connor his life
back only to watch Cordelia and now Fred die. Not to mention you, My Precious,
Beautiful Boy, the only one who’s like me and I walked away from you for this
place. I handed Buffy the means of your death and I walked right back into the
Hellfire.
I practically handed
Fred over to darkness my Sweet Lad, how do I live with that? An Old One wears
the body of my friend and I let it happen, I made the choice, the decision that
proclaimed her life wasn’t worth the hundreds maybe thousands that saving her
would have cost. I laid waste to more lives than that in my first century as a
Vampire. Here I am, a Vampire still and yet I let her die.
Gunn driven so far into
desperation that he unwittingly traded the life of a friend to keep something
that he never really needed to make him a good person. Wesley tried to kill
him, oh he didn’t My Lad, but I suspect that had more to do with chance than
any attempt to avoid doing him a more serious injury. He killed Knox but I
suppose one couldn’t really call that as being done in cold blood. He was in
love Fred you see My Lad and Knox was one of the chief conductors of the
symphony of tragedies that took her from us. I can’t even say I’m sorry that he
did it, part of me wishes he’d done the same to me for my part in it. He’s
clinging to the shell of what Fred was, I’m not sure if he’s trying to pretend
she’s still in there somewhere or whether he knows he’s lying to himself and
just doesn’t care anymore.
You were with me the
whole time, I felt you as clearly as I can hear your voice whispering to me
even now. You are the only one that knows what I need, you sent me Andrew, that
pretty little boy that is so much like you once were. He keeps me grounded even
when I want to fly away, is that what you intended when you sent him to me? I
don’t doubt for a minute that you had a reason for giving him the tape and
asking me to look out for him, you knew that I would keep him didn’t you? You
knew that I couldn’t let the last one to touch your lips, to feel your body,
go. You knew that, I know that you did.
My Sweet, Sexy Boy, no
one ever knew me like you did, no one ever will, I won’t let them. I’ll keep
you always, I have to; I can’t be alone.
“Angel?” Andrew quietly opens the office door and
enters after a brief glance inside. He silently sighs at the empty bottles of
Bourbon and Whiskey lined up with such precise neatness in a line across the
heavy oak desk. It’s painful to see the regal and powerful Vampire trying to
drink himself into a grave he’s defied for over two centuries and won’t reclaim
with mortal poisons like alcohol.
“Good evening Andrew.” He’s proud that his voice
doesn’t crack and his hands don’t tremble but remain rock steady despite the
sea of alcohol currently slowly replacing the blood in his body.
“Nina is on her way up. Apparently she’s changed her
looks a bit and security detained her while they checked her identification.”
Andrew’s voice is suspiciously serious and warbles with a thread of worried
uncertainty.
Angel catches the tone of his voice, the faint tremors
and slightly laboured breathing indicative of shock and he’s out of his chair
and around his desk within seconds. He clasps Andrew’s shoulders and holds on
tightly. “Andrew what’s wrong, what’s happened, and are you alright?” He asks
urgently.
Andrew starts to nod his head, but suddenly starts
shaking his head and Angel is getting more confused and worried by the second
as the sound of the young man’s racing heartbeat fills his ears. He’s about to
ask him a gain when the elevator doors opening across the lobby suddenly draw
his eye and he freezes and makes a low sound of pain.
Nina is stepping off the elevator with an obviously
upset Harmony and it’s easy to see why his Secretary looks so shaky. Nina is
dressed in jeans and a black tank top and her black leather jacket like he’s
seen her wear a dozen times over the past few months. It’s the newly cropped
mane of hair that curls just below her chin in a sleek page boy and such a pale
shade of blonde that it seems almost white that brings his dead heart into his
throat.
She looks nothing like the marble masculine beauty of
his boy, but for a millisecond it’s as though his image were superimposed over
her own. Within the space of a fraction of a fraction of a second he goes from
the heights of joy to a depth of despair that is so deep he’ll never climb out.
He releases Andrew and bolts for the private elevator
in his office, ignoring Nina’s cheery cry of hello and Andrew’s frantic calls
for him to come back. After less than a minute, his cell phone begins to ring,
but he ignores it, finally dashing out into the underground parking lot and
running for his Viper. Within seconds he’s roaring out of Wolfram & Hart
and headed anywhere but where he was. Maybe if he can’t drown his pain, he can
outrun it.
Chapter Five
He’s not sure where he’s going, whether he’s run
towards something or just running away from it. His logical mind tells him that
there is nothing to be gained from running away from the situation yet it feels
like something inside him is yanking him towards something. It’s a very curious
mixture of emotion and feelings but instinct is a powerful motivator to the
broken-hearted.
He drives as though he has somewhere to be but not the
least notion of where that is but the farther he gets from the city; the more
tension leaves his locked muscles. The only thing that matters is the road and
the journey. His cell phone both in his pocket and the one in his car ring
innumerable times but it only seems to pull him farther down the road until at
last silence is his passenger. It is then and only then that he picks up the
phone in the car and dials a number from memory without looking away from the
road. He slides the phone into the holder after depressing the speaker function
button and waits.
“Angel, are you alright? Nina’s in your office cursing
up a storm and Harmony’s having no luck calming her down.” Andrew’s voice
cracks with the strain of the last couple of days, but Angel has to smile that
the young man seemed to know who was calling him before he even said anything.
“I just had to get out Andrew. I’m sorry about not
answering my phones, but I really wasn’t in the mood to soothe Nina’s ruffled
fur right now.” He says with an edge to his voice.
“Yes, well I can understand that. Truthfully, most of
the calls were from her, she’s snarling like a pit bull and refusing to leave
your office until you come back. Angel, we don’t know what to do about her,
she’s ranting, crazy insane kind of ranting, like listening to Gollum talk
about the One Ring.” Andrew says shakily.
“Gollum, what ring?” Angel’s brow furrows as he tries
to decipher what Andrew is talking about but he quickly fails at it, but he
understands the crazy and insane ranting from years of listening to Dru.
“It was this movie see, one of the best they’ve ever
made, it was about a Hobbit…” A familiar note of excitement enters Andrew’s
voice and Angel knows that he has to interrupt or the young man could talk
non-stop for hours.
“Andrew…could you tell me about the movie another
time?” He says quietly, but tries to instil a warmth and affection in his voice
so as not to upset the sensitive young human. “Have you been able to find out
why Nina decided to show up looking like a female Spike?”
“Harmony’s been talking to her since you left and Nina
said something about Eve telling her a while back that it’d be a good look for
her.” Andrew’s voice clearly betrays his upset and anger at Eve’s apparently
hurtful manipulations. “There’s also been a Mr. Hamilton, a Marcus Hamilton
that’s been calling here regularly enquiring whether or not you’re in. Harmony
said that she heard from some girls over in legal that he’s some big shot that
works exclusively for the Senior Partners. He stopped by here earlier, he’s a
really snappy dresser, and really, really big, sort of an Armani Darth Vader
sort.”
“Who is D…never mind; he’s probably Eve’s replacement.
I’ve been expecting they’d send someone else once Eve’s duplicitous actions in
siding with Lindsey were exposed. Where is he now?”
“He said that he had some business to attend to,
something about needing some signatures on some paperwork to make everything
official and then he left. He said that he’d be back though to talk to you.”
Angel can hear a loud crash and raised voices in the background. “You’re going
to need a new intercom I think.” Andrew says with a nervous chuckle that
manages to sound more scared than amused.
“Andrew, go home and stay there. You have access to
one of my bank accounts and use that to take care off yourself until you hear
from me. I don’t want you in the office until you hear from me alright? I’ll
call my office extension when I hang up with you and deal with Nina myself.
Before you go, call security and tell them that if Nina hasn’t left the
building within twenty minutes, she’s to be escorted out and she’s not to be
admitted back without my express permission.”
“Can I take Harmony? I don’t want to leave her here if
something is wrong.” Andrew says worriedly. “What about Gunn and Wes…and
that…what used to be Fred?”
“Once you’ve left the building, use your cell phone to
call Wesley, tell him to vacate Wolfram & Hart until he hears from me. Then
call the medical wing and have Gunn transferred to a proper hospital.”
“Okay Angel, I’ll take care of it. Are you going to be
alright?”
“I don’t know Andrew.” He says honestly. “I feel lost
somehow, like there’s a hole that goes right through me that I didn’t know was
there. It feels like I should have known a long time before now, about a
century before now.”
“Do you know where you’re going?” Andrew asks in a
sombre tone that turns suddenly into a very young voice that reminds him that
Andrew isn’t much older than his son. “Are you coming back?”
“I don’t know Andrew. All I do know is that I can’t
stop yet. If I don’t come back, I’ll call you and let you know where I am,
alright?” His fingertips ghost over the weight of the pendant around his throat
and suddenly his fingers nimbly unbutton his shirt and he pulls the amulet off.
He holds it up and glances at it briefly as it sparkles and shines in the dark
confines of the car. He hangs it off the rear view mirror, deftly wrapping the
chain around a few times until it dangles a few inches below the mirror.
“I’d feel better if you came back and got me…and
Harmony and took us with you.” The sound of Andrew’s voice brings him out of
his strange reverie.
“So would I Andrew.” He says before he realises what
he was saying. “It feels like this is something that I have to do alone, at
least right now, Andrew. The account I gave you access to has a few hundred
thousand in it, I’m giving you permission to do whatever you need to with it
Andrew, understand? That’s my own personal money and Wolfram & Hart can’t
touch it.”
“I understand but can you promise…?” Andrew’s voice
trails off, but he doesn’t need to finish that sentence for Angel to understand
what he’s asking him.
“I promise Andrew, I’ll either be back or I’ll tell
you where I am so that you can come there alright?”
The sigh of relief Andrew lets out is audible on the
phone. “Thank you, Angel.”
“Do as I asked you to, Andrew. I’ll wait ten minutes
before I call Nina to give you time to make it out. I don’t want you there if
she gets…how she gets. I’m going to turn off my phone after I take care of
things Andrew, so you won’t be able to reach me for a while. I’ll call you, now
go.”
Andrew promises to do it right away and disconnects
the call. He watches the road and the swinging pendant as it sways and sparkles
with deep flashes of colour that are almost hypnotic. City, after city, town
after town, towns so small they don’t even have a name on any map, all flash
past as he rockets North and away from Los Angeles.
The drive along the
He rolls down the window, needing the wind in his
hair, the movement to break the stillness that he can no longer stand. He needs
the rush of the breeze in his sensitive ears to fill the silence that he can no
longer endure. The amulet sways in a lazy arc, defying the wind to move it to
its whims as it winks and sparkles for him brightly, driving him ever
northward. The urgency seems to fade with every passing mile until at last he
knows he’s no longer running, he’s answering some instinct deep inside him. He
doesn’t know what it is leading him to but it has to be a better place than he
has existed in lately.
Only an hour from dawn and the Viper’s hunger for
gasoline finally end his headlong rush into the night. He’s travelled farther
than he’d ever expected that he would, less than twenty minutes from
Chapter Six
He wearily forces himself through the heavy wooden
doors of the
It’s rather unusual to see such a public and obviously
upscale establishment employing and welcoming such a diverse group of species.
He shakes off his immobility and heads for the front desk. The proximity to
He finally gets up to the main desk and finds himself
face to face with a rather jovial looking Crewel Demon. He’s rather surprised
as their species is among the rarest and the only other one he’s ever seen is
Clem, an old friend of William’s for many years.
“Welcome to the Angel’s Rest, Sir. How may I help you
today?” She asks him with a pleasant smile.
“I’m rather hoping you might have some vacancies
left.” He says hopefully, releasing a sigh of relief as she nods and starts
typing with inhuman speed on her keyboard.
“We’ve got several vacancies, Sir. You’re a Vampire
correct?” She asks looking up from the computer screen, seemingly not shocked
in the least or afraid to ask him that question in public.
He’s so shocked he can only nod helplessly, looking
around him nervously, but no one is paying the least bit of attention to him or
the clerk.
“Our rates are seventy-five a night for a standard
room or one-fifty for a suite, but you’re one of our preferred clientele so you
receive a discount of twenty off if you want to stay in our special wing. We’ve
got some rules here for our…special guests. There is no feeding on the premises
and violence of any kind is discouraged…strongly. The rooms in the basement
wing are all sun-proofed so you can rest in comfort, assured of your safety.
The mini-bars are completely stocked with some specialty foods, but our two
bars, the dance club, coffee shop, and both restaurants are prepared to deal
with special…dietary requirements.” The clerk explains as he hands over his
credit card and identification. “The indoor pool and spa facility skylights as
well as all exterior windows are necro-tempered, reinforced glass and you can
move around the
He considers that for a moment. “Put me down for a
week and then can I extend it if I decide to stay longer?” Angel looks around,
he is still amazed at the diversity clientele. “You certainly have an unusual
mixture of guests staying here. I’ve never seen anything quite like it”
The clerk types in the information. “Certainly…” She
glances down at his identification and credit card and chuckles. “Mr. Angel.
You’ve certainly found a very aptly named
“I’d like a suite and I’ll pre-pay for one week now
and if I decide to stay longer I’ll authorise you to run another week up on the
card. I’d also like to run a tab as well for any sundry needs that I may have
during my stay…” He glances at her name badge and almost laughs out loud.
“…Clementine.”
No way can that be a
coincidence. He thinks to himself
but in the next moment it’s driven out of his mind as he’s utterly enchanted by
the happy wiggle of a pair of ears that a Cocker Spaniel would kill for.
She looks up with a smile that can’t help, but light
up the room with its brightness, her sagging ears wiggling happily. She glances
and notices the lack of luggage. “All our shops, services, and boutiques are
twenty-four hour services for the convenience of our guests that prefer late
hours. There is an excellent menswear shop on the second concourse called Forge
Fashions. Beside the phone in your room is a complete list of all our
facilities and services along with the internal numbers for contacting them.
They’ll happily deliver several selections of whatever you require directly to
your room if you’d rather not leave your suite. We have an excellent house band
that plays in the tavern starting at
He thinks for a moment and then nods. “Why not, some
good music and a drink or two sounds like a good idea after the year I’ve had,
a table for one?” He signs and certifies everything and takes his card key
after handing over his car keys and pointing out his car so it can be moved to
the
“I’ll put you down for a table for two; you never know
you just may find your Soulmate tonight.” Clementine says patting the back of
Angel’s hand comfortingly. “Like my baby boy, always says, ‘Momma, there’s not
much some good music or a good hand in kitten poker can’t fix.’ Such a sweet
boy, he is to his Momma. He sent me a basket of kittens for Mother’s day this
year.” She says proudly.
“The only way that will happen is if I get staked
tonight and find Wil waiting for me.” Angel mutters beneath his breath as he
pushes away from the front desk and follows the young bellhop into the
labyrinthine interior of the
Clementine watches them until she can’t see them
anymore, motions for a co-worker to take her place and slips into the back
office; she has a phone call to make.
Chapter Seven
It’s a little after
“A bottle of the oldest whiskey you’ve got, preferably
Irish or Scottish.” He holds up his room card and the waiter swipes it through
a reader built into his computerised clipboard and taps some buttons.
“Yes, Sir Mr. Angel. I’ll bring that right out for
you.” He hands the card key back. “Would you care for anything from our special
red reserves this evening as well?” He asks glancing at his clipboard and
skimming over the flat panel readout. “We’ve got an excellent house blend this
evening. It’s ten dollars a glass, twenty-five for a half-carafe and forty-five
for a full carafe.”
“Yes, that would probably be a good idea. I’ll have a
full carafe of the house blend, it’s…organic?” He asks, hoping that the waiter
can tell that he’s actually asking that it’s not stolen Human blood from the
black market.
“Absolutely Mr. Angel, the Angel’s Rest is very
eco-friendly and our suppliers are carefully screened to ensure the product
meets our high standards.” The waiter assures him, tapping several keys on his
clipboard before leaving with a smile and a respectful nod.
He’s back with a tray within just a few minutes and
skilfully opens the whiskey and pours a small measure into a small tumbler and
hands it to him with a respectful incline of his head. Angel sips the whiskey
and sighs as it almost evaporates on his tongue releasing the flavour of a
truly fine Irish blend. He nods and the waiter sets down a second glass and
pours a measure of whiskey into it before topping up the glass Angel sets down.
He then sets down a thermal carafe and a pair of black ceramic mugs and a plate
of assorted appetisers.
“It’s on the house, with the compliments of the
Angel’s Rest’s management, Mr. Angel. It is just our way of saying welcome on
the occasion of your first visit.” The waiter is off into the bustling crowd
before Angel can tell him that he’s not expecting anyone else. Not finding it a
situation worth more than a cursory shrug Angel just tips back his drink and
pours another as he leans back to listen to the music.
The band is talented but nothing really special in his
opinion and he wonders why they would seem to be such a popular attraction, the
Tavern is standing room only and it is
“Welcome to the Angel’s Rest Tavern, we’re glad that
you could join us for our Friday night show. Please give a round of applause to
the Boomtown Players Club, our early evening entertainment.” The crowd applauds
politely. “They have CD’s available in our main gift shop on the main concourse
so we hope you’ll purchase one and support one of local groups on their search
for stardom. Our headliners for this evening are back by popular demand, please
welcome Dead Asleep Dreaming.”
Angel is fairly shocked as the crowd applauds loudly
and several people actually cheer and shout.
They must be very
popular. The name sounds like some punk band my Boy would have liked.
A surprisingly soft and melodic tune starts up, low
and quiet as a man speaks. “This is a song for all of us just looking for a way
to be free while we’re all dead asleep dreaming of that special delivery that
sends us back to where we needed to be all along. It’s a cover of a Wallflowers
song called ‘I’ve been delivered’ and it’s a tune that some of you music lovers
may recognise. Welcome to Angel’s Rest, why don’t you rest those wings a while,
Hero?”
Angel stiffens and freezes as the sound of that voice
grabs him by his undead heart and almost makes him believe that it’s beating
again.
I could break free from
the
Wood of a coffin
If I need
But nothin’s hard as
Gettin’ free from
places
I’ve already been
I’ve been waste-deep
In the burnin’ meadows
Of my mind
In the engine
In cold December
Shootin’ fire from the
hose
He remembers the night
he trailed his insane Princess to a quiet cemetery, curious about where she was
hurrying off to alone when she rarely went anywhere without either his sire or
himself. He was watching as his mad Childe dug into the soft, freshly turned
earth as though it was hiding the dearest of all treasures. Indeed for his
maddening Childe maybe that’s exactly what it did conceal as he watched her
tenderly free her first and only Childe from the ground’s embrace. He watched
her lift the seemingly frail form with surprising ease and carried him through
the sparse trees of a nearby park to kneel beside a small pond. He watched in
amazement as she bathed and dried her precious creation and dressed him in a
simple but well made set of clothing she’d pulled out of a soft satchel slung
across her shoulders. She stayed beside him as the moon climbed higher until at
last he stirred and was pulled into her embrace. He was secreted nearby as a
silent witness to a Sire and Childe’s first joining and a silent observer for a
surprisingly trouble free first hunting and feeding.
Now turn off your lights
‘Cause
I’m not comin’ home
‘Til I’m delivered for
the first time
He remembers the mad
dash to return to the ambassador’s home as he realized Drusilla would soon
bring her fledgling childe before him for approval, much as he once presented
her to his own Sire. He was irritable and cranky upon making it back well ahead
of them only to find that Darla had left and taken all of the minions with her
to visit The Master’s court. He was more than a little put out by his failure
to get anything more than the most fleeting of glimpses of his new Grandchilde.
Oh he hears them coming in at last and steps back into the deepest shadows to
conceal his presence, pushing just a hint of his power along the link to muddle
their perception of him. He watches and listens, frustrated that he still can’t
get a look at Drusilla’s new toy from this angle.
"Oh. Such a hungry little kitty." She gently pushes against
her Childe's chest, moving him. "Meow." She
purrs as she walks into the room. "You've been a starved one, haven't you,
my sweet Willy?" She says with all the delight of a kitten playing with a
mouse.
"I've got
you to feast on now, pet. Is this your home?"
"Their
home." She gestures to a pair of middle-aged corpses who have been
arranged to look as if they're sitting having a lovely afternoon visit. "Ambassador to...something and his plump, lovely wife. Till their spirits flew away on fairy wings." She
lowers her voice conspiratorially. "Psst. When Angelus took them for
dinner." She giggles a bit at the memory.
"Angelus? Who the
bloody hell's Ang-?"
Fed up with
the subterfuge he steps out of the shadows and they turn to face him and he
sucks in an unnecessary breath as the beauty of her childe is at last revealed
and he knows that his existence will never be the same.
Angel shakes off the memory and finds his chest heaving with tortured
breaths.
I was first-born to a parade
That follows
in rows
Down a narrow
cold black river
Faceless
shadows
Movin' slow
Angel grimaces at the memory of demanding Drusilla give her Childe over
to his keeping as she was unfit to raise anything more than a minion. A Childe
of the Aurelius line would not be left to her inept care, leaving them with
another broken shell of a Vampire. He moved slowly and methodically, cutting each
and every tie that held the boy to his Sire and put did whatever it took to put
him in her place. By the time he was finished the human poet was no more and
William the Bloody, the youngest Aurelius Master Vampire in history was born
from his ashes. Like the
I would move
swift when
The sounds of
a trumpet would blow
I've been the
puppet
I've been the
strings
I know the
vacant face it brings
He flushes as he shudders and pushes away the memory of his
embarrassing time as a puppet, thanking all the powers that be that his boy
never witnessed his humiliating addition to the temporarily warm and fuzzy
puppet crowd. That little episode left more than a few scars on already
battered psyche and he shudders at a particularly embarrassing episode that saw
him hugging everyone in sight and offering to be their ‘special friend’. He can
only thank god that Andrew and Harmony managed to wrestle him down and get him
safely into a cell until the spell wore off and he returned to normal.
Now the bells of curfew
They may ring
before I'm through
But soon
I'll be
delivered for the first time
He remembers the first sight of his boy in so many years, as powerful
as a panther in his denim and leather in that school hallway. He was a portrait
of power and violence that was only magnified and focused by his incredible
beauty that only made him seem all the more in control of himself and the
situation. Watching the minions scatter to follow his orders as though their
lives depended on it, which of course it did, was intoxicating. Even
with his soul, his pride at having shaped that deadly beauty was seductive and
compelling and it made him want to sin and ache to be the Sire that could
openly lay claim to that magnificent creature. In the end he couldn’t fool his
boy and he couldn’t fool himself as Spike had proven with a violent fist that
sent him scrambling for safety before he was forced to fight and possibly
injure his Grand-Childe.
You might
keep clean
In the back
of an angel motorcade
It doesn't
matter who walks in
You know, the
joke is still the same
You'll just
wake up
Like a
disposable lover
Decomposed
I've been
gone
I've been
remembered
I've been
alive
I've been a
ghost
The next time he saw his boy it would be in a frail shell ravaged at
the hands of the Slayer, burnt and broken in a wheelchair. The soul had fled
before the power of the gypsy curse and rather than restoring him he was driven
beyond insanity and into madness. It’s all that he can think would have lead
him to perpetrate the most heinous tortures upon his Precious Boy. He had no
reason and no excuse for what he had done and for the sheer lunacy of his plan
to open the gateway to Hell. If he had been in his right mind he would have
taken his Childer and fled for safety, instead he almost damned them all. A
self-fulfilling prophecy it seems since that’s eventually just what came to
pass. He doesn’t even have the fact that he was soulless to console him. He
offered up his most precious blood to make a devil’s bargain and the Devil took
his due. His William however wasn’t blind to the enormity of what he was trying
to unleash and he made a Devil’s bargain of his own and defied his very
existence and every tenet of his nature to make an alliance with the Slayer.
The pain of the crowbar was doubled as it was delivered at the hands of his
Precious William but even amidst the pain the pride was there. He was strong
once more, every inch the deadly and vicious Master Vampire he’d been reared to
be. He was his Boy and he was magnificent in his treachery. He would be the
only one consigned to Hell and he deserved nothing less for failing to consider
the well-being of his Childer. Despite being Demons, Hell is no place for a
Vampire, which may partially explain their merciless attempts to stay well
clear of it.
So now, if
downtown explodes
I'll still be
on this road
'Til I'm
delivered for the first time
The next time he saw his William, it was as a broken shell mourning the
loss of Drusilla and forcing their help by kidnapping Xander and
William knew the truth of it, even as he knew the lies that they had
been trying to live. He showed them their reality and defied them to hide from
it. He wonders if William ever knew that he had recognized the verity of his
words but not in the way that he had probably foreseen it. Blood was pumping
inside him to work its will… but not for Buffy. No his love was much older and
stronger than could be contained in that frail human shell. How funny that the
one that should make him see that is the same one that he watched leave. He
swallowed the despair and tried to find a way to tell Buffy it was over but as
fate would soon show she would beat him to it. He made a good showing of it,
positive that she left with the impression that she had ended it and unaware of
the fact that he was secretly relieved that he didn’t have to be the one to
hurt her. He would leave Sunnydale not that long afterwards, under no illusion
that his body was weaker than his will, than either of his Wills. Perhaps in
I have drawn blood
From the
neckline
When vampires
were in fashion
You know I'd
even learn
To cut my
throat
If I thought
I could fit in
'Cause I, I
once heard
That you
gotta learn
How to blend
in to this mess
Where
nothin's hard
Nothin's
precious
And nothin's
smooth or flawless
Now, no more
amused
Just
screaming to be delivered
For the first
time
He remembers the night he found out that his violently perfect Boy had
been leashed and violated by the human Gestapo that masqueraded as the
Initiative. He was lurking around much more than he suspects anyone other than
himself could have conceived of. He watched his Boy struggle to accept the
limitations forced on him and learn to live with the very people he would once
have preyed on. How proud he was to see that even horribly abused and trapped
by the confines of a human’s morality in the form of a pain inducing microchip,
that William would not weep for the loses he suffered. He adapted and overcame
as only he could and he achieved the impossible yet again, he survived. He had
hoped that he would seek him out as the only one that could truly understand
what he was going through but his Boy was always doing what he least expected.
He learned to exist and to care to varying extents for the humans that he had
come to regard as a pseudo-family. He didn’t let his existence pass him by, he
didn’t go quietly into the dark night, and he fought with everything that he is
to exist on his own terms. Maybe part of him even knew that he would follow in
his footsteps and get caught up in the pretty lie that Buffy represented. How
different would their lives had been if he had done what his instinct demanded
and just taken his Boy back to LA whether he wanted to go or not? In time he would
have accepted his dominion as his Sire once more, of that he has not a ghost of
a doubt. Instead he let his soul rule his heart and left his boy to find his
own way through the deadly minefield of demonically enhanced human emotions.
Now I'm 10 miles in the deep
And mighty
blue sea
Looking back,
towards a long white beach
Burnin' up
into yellow flames
And I just
wave back
Like a little
boy up on a pony
In a show
'Cause I
can't fix
Something
this complex
Any more than
I can build a rose
So just keep
on letting go
'Cause I must
be close
To being
delivered for the first time
It was only as he languished in a steel tomb beneath the crushing
pressure of the sea that the truth of how far he’d fallen from grace actually
hit him. He tried to reach out through the blood link, to summon his Childer,
to bring his William to him, only to find that it had been too long. What was
once a vital and essential link to his William and his broken doll of a Childe
had become still and atrophied with neglect. He had little to no ties left to
his Childer and that was a horrible realization to be sure. It would be months
of a Hell that not even Hell itself could have devised, to realize how truly
alone he was. As much as he wanted to blame the soul for his decline, he could
not with all honesty say that his choices were wholly motivated by the soul at
all. He was sick to discover that part of him had rejected his Demon to the
point that he had actually believed that he could be happy with a human love.
He wonders if anyone knows that as soon as he’d recovered his strength
he’d made his way to Sunnydale on a desperate quest to fond his Precious Childe
and instead found only another town to be lonely in. his Boy was gone and
without the blood tie he had little chance to find him or draw him home. It
would take time and money to find him through human or more mercenary means and
he returned to
Now I'd rather bleed out
A long stream
from being lonely
And feel
blessed
Well than
drown, laying face down
In a puddle
of respect
I was once
lost
In the
corridors of the arena
In blindfolds
I've been the
bull
I've been the
whip
I just pulled
down the matador
He returned to the ruins of Sunnydale a week after Buffy and the others
had finally scattered like leaves from
So now, turn on your lights
'Cause I'm
comin' home
I've been
delivered for the first time
He winces and wraps his arms tightly around himself, keeping his eyes
squeezed tightly shut as the words to the song are sung softly against his ear,
carried across the enraptured crowd by the microphone. The voice trails to
silence as the final notes drift to an echoing silence as a gentle hand curves
around his nape and sinks into the short hair with possessive tenderness and pulls
him into a gentle embrace. He doesn’t move, doesn’t dare to breath even the
most meager of unnecessary breaths, nothing that will break the spell he’s
under. If he doesn’t look then he can imagine it is his Sweet Boy holding him
so lovingly. He’ll believe the lie, for it is better than the truth that he has
been living.
A second gentle hand cups his cheek sliding back to rub his sensitive
earlobe and he shudders at the familiar caress. “Who are you?” He whispers
raggedly, as the band begins to play another song but this time the singer’s
voice is female and the tune is clearly Gaelic and hauntingly evocative.
“Who do you want me to be?” The voice whispers against his ear, causing
him to shiver faintly.
He inhales sharply and forces his eyes open and finds himself staring
into molten glacial blue eyes. He stares afraid to believe what his eyes are
telling him. A hand slides gently across his chin to dip a finger just inside
his lips brushing the edge of a blunt human tooth. He leans forward and draws his
tongue across his cheek just as razor sharp nails sink into his nape causing
him to briefly release his Demon long enough for a finger to be drawn across a
fang. The bleeding digit is drawn across his lower lip painting it a macabre
scarlet for the brief seconds before his tongue instinctively charges out to
sweep it away. Blood doesn’t lie and his is raging inside him to work its will
right now.
A low explosion of sound not unlike the sound a man makes when he
receives a million of his wishes simultaneously and the blond is swept up and
held aloft with a strength that could suddenly move mountains. “Am I dead?” He
asks muffled, his face pressed against the curve of his neck and shoulder
panting greedily and soaking up the scent that he never wants to fade from his
lungs. Gentle hands cup his face and pull it back tenderly but firmly until he
can meet Spike’s eyes once more. His eyes cross with the effort to keep those
beloved orbs focused as he leans forward to press his lips to his with just the
barest hint of pressure.
“You’ve been dead for 246 years ya nit. I think it’s safe to say that
you died a while ago Peaches.” Spike says with a smirk that has Angel growling
until Spike closes the distance between them and nibbles on his bottom lip
before soothing the faint sting with sweeps of his tongue.
Angel surges forward locking his mouth to his Precious Boy’s and dives
into a hungry kiss. When the kiss hits the five minute mark the crowd around
them claps politely, saluting the passionately embracing couple and startling
Angel out of the kiss as he looks around him flushed with embarrassment. Spike
smiles happily, a small stream of blood meandering down his chin from the
corner of his passionately bruised lips. His tongue sweeps out to catch the
drip only to tangle with Angel’s tongue already there, leading to another
sweetly hungry kiss.
Another round of applause has Angel gruffly settling Spike down on his
feet and closing his powerful hands over his shoulder and staring as though he
were going to disappear at any moment. Spike gently guides him back to his
chair and kindly helps him into it before heading for the chair on the other
side of the table. He chuckles as Angel surges up and grabs the chair and pulls
it around so that it’s next to his and he sinks into the chair and sighs as
Angel’s arm encircles his shoulders and his free hand covers his hand where it
rests on the table.
“Spike… Wil, why aren’t you dead?” Angel finally asks. Spike opens his
mouth and Angel growls. “I swear if you make another crack about having died a
hundred and forty years ago I’m going to take you over my knee right here and
wallop some manners into your disrespectful ass.”
Spike smirks and licks his lower lip slowly, grinning as Angel makes a
low sound of pained discomfort. “Enlighten me Mate, what is the downside to
that threat?” He asks quirking his brow up.
Angel stares at him for a heartbeat then chokes back a snort of
incredulous laughter. “Well if I had any doubts that you are really you, they
just flew out the window.” He says shaking his head in exasperation but a huge
smile curves his lips up. His Boy has really been returned to him or he’s
somehow found his way to wherever he’s been but he doesn’t care, it’s enough to
be together. He reaches out and traces his cheek before leaning over to nuzzle
his chin against his temple. “You are a sight for sore eyes Wil.” He breathes
out slowly and then inhales deeply wanting to flood every corner of his lungs
with the sweetly spicy musk scent of his Boy.
“You are quite the… vision… yourself Liam.” Spike turns his head to
nuzzle back against his Sire’s caress sighing low and soft at the feel of his
skin and hair against his own.
“Wil… about Dru….” Angel starts to say sadly but it’s cut off as Spike
lifts his hand and turns to press his fingertips softly against his lips,
stilling the words before they can be spoken.
He gently turns his face to the side and guides his eyes to a quiet
table half in and half out of the shadows. Angel’s eyes fly open as a gaily
smiling Dru cuddling against a grinning Penn raises a glass of what looks like
red wine before taking a sip and setting the glass down. Penn leans forward to
kiss her gently and they snuggle back together happily.
“We’re at the Crossroads; many roads lead here if you know which ones
to take.” Spike says quietly. “This place draws interested spirits, this is a
gathering place, a quiet bank beside the river of life and many find their way
here to enjoy the peace and quiet away from… other places.”
Spike gently guides his eyes over to the bar and his eyes almost pop
out of his head at the sight of Cordelia and Doyle sitting side by side holding
hands and watching the animated hand movements of an excitedly chattering Darla,
who is leaning against an obviously besotted Whistler. As they catch sight of
Angel’s incredulous stare they all laugh and raise their glasses to him in a
toast. Spike refills his glass with whiskey before pressing it into his hand
and chuckling as he moves his arm for him until he gets the clue and takes over
returning their toast before turning and raising his glass to Penn and Dru as
well.
Spike sighs and gently directs his gaze again and Angel sighs and lifts
his glass again, pulling Spike tighter against his side. Anya and Tara lift
their glasses to him in return from their position on either side of Joyce, who
smiles and nods before pulling the two girls closer and kissing them on the
temple. Spike snags the other glass and salutes them with a toast that has
Joyce and the girls sending him loving, if a little sad, smiles.
Angel tosses back the whiskey as he turns around. “So I’m dead then.”
Spike opens his mouth and Angel moves his hand to close it. “Please don’t tell
me I’ve been dead for over two hundred years again. What are we Spike? This
can’t be Hell, not if Doyle, Cordelia, and Joyce and the girls are here. It
can’t be Heaven if… well if Darla, Dru, and Penn are here…? So where are we?
What are we?”
“You’re Angel, Liam. I’m Spike and I’m William. And life is not what
you think that it is.” Spike says solemnly. “Heaven and Hell are very real
concepts, I won’t lie to you about that. When a Vampire dies his Demon is
consigned to the Hell that they came from but the human they were is not cast
out with it. Heaven forgives Liam and it remembers that we were innocent once
and it does not forsake us in our misguided actions when there was a Demon
inside us. Heaven is love… and love forgives us our trespasses both intentioned
and accidental.” Spike says quietly lifting his hand to stroke Liam’s cheek.
“So we are dead? How can I be here? I still have a Demon, still have a
Soul. I don’t feel much redeemed and I don’t think I’ve earned my place here.
Am I asleep and dreaming all of this?” He asks sadly, finding himself wishing
he’ll never wake up if that’s so.
“We’re all dead asleep dreaming Liam. We need those dreams to make the
times that life cuts us with its razor blade of reality, hurt just a little
less. You’re not dead in the way that you mean; you are still a souled Vampire,
as am I because that is what we need to be. Do you understand that? We have
been fashioned as we need to be. Everything that has happened has brought us to
this point. The only one that hasn’t forgiven you the evils done as a Demon is
yourself Liam. This is the crossroads, this is where you must stand and decide
your fate. Do you go down a new road, turn back the way you came… or do you
stand for eternity where you are and watch others pass you by?”
“To WHAT point, Wil? How can all the evil we’ve done, that I’ve
visited on you, be a good thing?! You are a Vampire but we both know that
it was me that made you a Monster.”
“You made me a Hero.” Angel actually pales and his mouth opens and
closes several times and Spike shakes his head in fond exasperation. “If you
hadn’t been so set on making me a Monster I wouldn’t have retained the human
qualities that I did. The same qualities that allowed me to overcome what the
Initiative did to me, which in turn began the process of readying me to reclaim
my soul. I am a hero because you should me how to be one Angel. You
taught me sacrifice and honor and love. It’s because of you that I have this
chance now, that we have this chance now.”
“So I taught you to be a Hero by treating you like crap?!” Angel
exclaims in amazement. After a few seconds Spike starts snickering and in
moments they’re laughing together and the tension of the moment is broken.
“What did you mean about having a chance?”
“When you worked for the Powers That Be before, you basically fell into
it Angel. It wasn’t so much a conscious decision as it was the only one you
could really make at the time. They’re asking you to choose to work for
them again Liam. You’ve seen what life is like in the belly of the beast,
you’ve seen what it’s like to work for them and they’re asking you to make that
choice. I made my choice, it’s why I am here now, as unalive as I ever was,
still a Vampire, because that is what I need to be.”
“So if I choose to work for them… you’ll be with me, fight along side
me?” Angel asks uncharacteristically bashful.
“I am a Warrior for the PTB, as I have been shaped to be. As I have
chosen to be.” Spike replies enigmatically but ruins it by grinning and adding.
“I rather fancy myself as a chip off the old mentor actually.” He winks and
leans over and drags his tongue over Angel’s lower lip in a slow sweep and chuckles
at the low moan that is squeezed out of Angel.
“I haven’t been happy even with my soul anchored, I’ve still been
afraid to be happy, isn’t that stupid?” Angel turns his head to kiss Spike
gently. “I want to be happy and I want to be with you. If that means that I
have fight the good fight to be both of those then I’ll fight it but not for a
reward.” He leans forward and kisses Spike with tender passion and reverent
affection. “They’ve already given me the only gift I could have asked for. I
don’t want to be your partner Wil.” Spike drops his eyes sadly. “At least that’s
not all I want to be, I don’t think that it ever was. I want to be with
you Spike.” Angel leans over and presses his mouth against Spike’s ear. “And I’m
telling you right now it’s going to be more than just once this time.” He pants
harshly and sweeps Spike into a passionate embrace that has everyone around
them hollering and cheering.
Spike angles his head to deepen the kiss and looks over Angel’s
shoulder and lifts his hand out towards his friends as though to pull them
nearer. After a minute he drops his hand and melts against Angel and loses
himself in their embrace, letting his eyes slip shut for a second. When he
opens them his friends are gone, their vacant spots quickly flowed into by
other laughing, happy people.
Angel reluctantly pulls away just enough to speak. “Who were you waving
at?”
Spike wiggles closer and wraps his arms around his shoulders and
clings, his happy smile dimmed with just a touch of sadness. “I was just saying
good night to some friends that I won’t be seeing for a while that’s all. They
are needed elsewhere, but you never know, here at the Rest, many roads lead
here for those destined to find it and I may well see them again. I know that
one day we will.” He says quietly and pulls Angel back into a slow and hungry
kiss, laughing against his mouth as he stands and sweeps him up in romantic
movie tradition. “Wait, wait.” He says with a laugh. He leans over and
carefully picks up the carafe of blood, the plate of snacks, and the bottle of
whiskey and cradles them against his stomach. “Ok you proceed to ravage, I have
secured our provisions.”
Angel chuckles and sweeps out of the tavern on another wave of cheers
and hoots as the crowd surges to its feet giving this show a standing ovation.
Romance is far from dead at the Angel’s Rest.
Angel cradles his William tenderly, enjoying the solid reality of his
weight in his arms, however slight it may seem to his Vampire enhanced
strength. He leans against the back of the elevator and enjoys a long and
leisurely kissing session. They take their time, exploring and learning each
other from the inside out as they exchange sips of their blood until all they
can taste is their separate flavors mixing in their mouths and drugging them in
a creeping ecstasy.
He holds his purring Childe as tenderly as fine porcelain, Spike’s
sleekly strong muscles supporting his own weight for the moment it takes him to
unlock the door of his… their suite. The symbolic importance of carrying his
Boy over the threshold isn’t lost on him as he sweeps them inside and the door
closes quietly behind them.
Chapter Eight
Angel awakens slowly in the comfortable darkness, rather unaccustomed
to the lethargy and aching muscles protesting his smallest movement. Despite
the aches, he feels better than he has in a century, he is at peace with
himself and the languor of eternity suddenly seems to be vibrant and exciting
once more. He stretches and smiles sleepily but the smile freezes on his lips
as his eyes fly open and he sits up looking around jerkily at the messy bed he’s
in all alone and he falls forward to cup his head in his hands.
He’s so busy mourning that it was all a dream that he misses the
whispering swish of the bathroom door opening and only the sound of softly
rushing water brings his head up in a flash. He stares at Spike as he lounges
naked in the doorway, the bright lights from the bathroom behind him paint his
tawny hair and pale skin a burnished gold and he almost seems to glow with a
faint aura. He would almost mistake him for a vision of angelic beauty were it
not for the still healing wound of a mating claim at his throat and over his
heart. There are various other scratches and bruises still fading from the pale
silk of his skin that mark the validity of the passionate memories flooding
through Angel’s mind. It all happened, it really all happened and it wasn’t
just the wishful dream of a tortured soul.
Angel lifts his hand to his neck and brushes his fingertips over his
neck and feels the twin to the mark his boy is sporting and he is out of the
bed in a flash. Spike yields as he charges, letting the momentum curl him
around Angel’s body as he sweeps him off his feet and dives into his mouth. The
door jam catches his shoulder stopping them from flying into the bathroom in an
ungainly heap of flesh and hunger.
Spike surrenders himself to the embrace, not minding the fact he’ll
probably have one or two more bruises to heal on his back and keeps his mouth
gentle and tender. His hands smooth over his Sire’s body in soothing strokes
and within moments the violence of the embrace has deepened a loving passion as
Angel is reassured by the very real sight, taste, feel, and smell of his Childe
turned Mate.
“I started a bath, Love. Why don’t you get in and soak some of those
aches away? I’ll get us something to eat and be right there to join you. I won’t
be long I promise.” Spike says gently pushing off Angel’s shoulders motivating
him to set him down carefully and let’s himself be guided through the doorway
by a tender hand and the welcome lure of a hot bath. Spike follows him and
helps him get settled and starts the whirlpool jets that have Angel groaning
almost obscenely and sinking boneless against the edge of the tub with a sigh
of relief. “I’ll be just a minute.” Spike says softly leaning over and kissing
his melting Sire tenderly before heading out of the bathroom and across to the
door leading out into the rest of the suite.
He fetches some mugs down from a cabinet beside the bar and opens the
not very mini-refrigerator built into it and removes a couple of bags of blood.
He pours them into the mugs and pops them into the convenient microwave nearby
to heat up and pads silently across to a nearby end table. He turns the phone
to face him and quickly dials a number from memory and waits for it to be
picked up.
“Hi, Pet. He’s here, yes safe and sound.” Spike listens to the person
on the other end of the phone a genuine smile curving his lips as his fingertips
come up to brush over the still healing mark on his neck. “I think it’s safe to
assume that he’s decided to stay and he’s made his choice. It’s time for you to
come home now, the farther you are away from that place the better I’ll feel.” He
pauses to listen once more.
“You can bring them if you want to, there’s more than enough room and
work for all I’m sure. Clementine will get you set up with suites when you get
here. I’ll see you when you get here and yes I’ve missed you too. You know how
it works, if he’s meant to be here than Gunn will find his way here like I did
and Angel did. Yes. No I haven’t told him about that yet, not sure how he’s
going to react to that. Yes I will, yes I know that I should and I will. Yes. I’ll
see you soon. Drive safely Andrew.” He hangs up the phone just as the microwave
beeps and he stalks back over to the bar. He pulls out the mugs and sets them
aside and looks through the various bottles lined up neatly and chooses a fine
scotch and pours a liberal splash into both mugs.
He picks up the mugs and pads silently back through the suite and into
the bedroom and across to the bathroom. “Love, I think we need to have a talk
about this whole Seer business….” A nudge from his elbow closes the door on the
rest of his words.
Chapter Nine
Andrew hangs up the phone and turns to face the two anxious looking
people hovering over his shoulder.
“Angel’s with Spike and it looks like we’re going on a road trip.
License plate game anyone?” Andrew says in a chipper tone that has Wesley and Harmony
sharing a look of commiseration.
Across town at the main offices of Wolfram & Hart
The intercom makes a mellow tone on the polished obsidian desk.
“Sir, you asked me to remind you when the meeting of the board of
Directors was to take place.” Marcus Hamilton smiles and leans forward and
depresses the intercom button. “Thank you, Eve. Please tell my personal
assistant to meet me there directly.” Marcus grins at the irony of having the
Senior Partners’ once most favored as his new secretary. How the mighty have
fallen.
“Yes Sir, Mr. newly appointed C.E.O. Sir.” Eve says in a blatant,
falsely chipper voice that has Marcus grinning as he stands and crosses to his
private elevator. Within moments he is stepping off the elevator into the vast
blankness that is the White Room. As featureless as ever but for the long
finely made black basalt table and executive chairs neatly spaced out around
it.
Marcus sits down at the head of the table, with his back to the
elevator and looks to his right and inclines his head in respectful greeting.
The chair next to him is empty but beyond that the imposing figure of Archduke
Sebassis looms menacingly. As usual his attendant slave is cowering meekly
behind him as he kneels behind his chair and playfully swings his chain leash
to amuse himself. Beyond the Archduke is Izzerial, the devil and the three auxiliary
members of the Black Thorn that always hover nearby ready to attend to his
needs.
Marcus turns his gaze to the left and again bows his head in respectful
greeting. Cyrus Vail, Senator Brucker, and the three senior most members of the
Legion of the Fell Brethren, all return the greeting.
The sound of the elevator precedes the arrival of Marcus’ Personal
Assistant and he smiles and stands. He pulls the chair next to him out and she
sinks into it gracefully, setting her briefcase down beside her chair. She is
perfectly and flawlessly attired in a stylish black suit and her moonlight pale
cap of hair is sleek without a hair out of place.
Marcus resumes his seat and leans back and tents his fingertips under
his chin. “If you’ll be kind enough to take notes my dear?”
Nina smiles coolly and drops her lashes over her eyes flirtatiously as
she sets her briefcase on the table and removes a pen and stenographer’s
notebook before closing it and replacing it beside her chair.
“Now that we’re all finally here, we can get on with the real business
of attending to the Senior Partners plans here on Earth….” Marcus begins.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Finis… or is it? I haven’t decided yet whether or not to write a
sequel. I guess we’ll see :o)