Make or Break
Chapter 1
Happiness
It was ironic. Only that night
they had discussed happiness. Philosophical meanderings, as the peaceful
softness of darkness wrapped around them, soothing the turbulent sea of emotions
that had ebbed and flowed during the past twenty-four hours.
Following their victory over the
legions of hell there had been much to do; caring for wounded slayers, the
heart-rending task of recording those who fell, returning their bodies to families
who would never understand the importance of their sacrifice. The majority of
uninjured slayers had departed for their own countries and states. Some few
remained, awaiting flights.
“Giles has transferred the
wounded to Council quarters.”
Angel nodded his approval.
“The others?”
“Shipping out tomorrow.”
“They really came through.”
“Yeah, they saved your bacon,
Mate. Considering half of them are only kids, they fought like hellions.”
“You’re going to continue
training them?”
“Course, they’re mine. How about
you?”
“I’ve signed that contract with
Giles and the new Council. Wesley, Fred and Gunn want to start up the Agency
again. Then there are your visions. Guess I’m going to be pretty busy.”
“Wolfram and Hart?”
“Going to assume their attempt
to terminate me indicates the rescinding of my contract.”
Spike rolled his eyes.
“Normal Wolfram and Hart
overkill, a letter of dismissal normally does the trick. Get Gunn to sue for
unfair dismissal. Tie them up in legalese for a change.”
“Don't be an id…. Actually,
that’s an interesting idea.”
“Common sense, attack’s the best
form of defence.”
“Huh. Any other pearls of
wisdom?”
“Always guard your perimeter.”
Angel raised his eyebrows, a
look of mock incredulity on his face.
“You amaze me. All those years I
tried to teach you, ignite the spark of your curiosity, always thinking I’d
failed miserably.”
An irreverent snort escaped the
blonde vampire.
“Ignite the spark….! All I used
to get was ‘be quiet, William, no more of your dumb questions, Boy’.”
“Yeah, well, you were always
curious about the wrong things.”
“Things you didn’t know the
answers to, you mean.”
Angel’s grunt was noncommittal.
“So… why can’t I see my clothes
in the mirror when I’m wearing them or even when I’m holding them? Yet if I
hold a human their reflection still appears?” Spike asked, a small smile
hovering over his mouth.
“I’m glad you asked. It’s to do
with the animate and inanimate. The inanimate has no will and becomes an
extension of you, the living have their own existence, independent of you, not
subject to the laws that govern you.”
Spike let the hovering smile
flower into genuine amusement that lit up his face.
“You’ve given this some serious
thought since the last time I asked. Did I ignite the spark of your curiosity,
Pet?”
“It drove Angelus insane; the questions
you asked that he couldn’t answer.” Angel admitted.
“I know. Always enjoyed
irritating Angelus.”
“You succeeded. Surprised you
lived to tell the tale.”
“Won him around with my natural
charm.”
It was Angel’s turn to give a
derisive snort of disbelieving laughter.
Spike looked at him, at his
laughing face, such an unfamiliar sight that it made Spike realise how
heartbreakingly miserable the vampire normally was. He found the laughter
deeply poignant.
“So you happy then, Peaches?”
Spike asked softly.
“What do you think? Having you
foisted on me as my seer? Forced to endure your company for the rest of
eternity?” Angel gave the huge sigh of a sublimely contented man, which gave
lie to his complaining tone.
“I think I make your happiness
complete.”
Angel took in the suspicion of a
smirk and the self-satisfied expression.
“No, I think the Powers are
making sure I have an eternity of torment and suffering.” He contradicted.
“And I volunteered my services,
eternal torment with a side-order of suffering, coming up.”
Angel turned away, maintaining
his stoic image, whilst hiding his rumbling turmoil. He thought he’d lost
everything, sacrificing himself and his friends in a defiant but ultimately
useless gesture. He still could hardly believe his desperate gamble had paid
off.
Spike noticed the hunched
shoulders and guessed what he was thinking.
“Hey, Pet, it’s alright. Sure,
it’ll all turn to shit again, but right this moment everything’s how it should
be.”
He rubbed a hand over those
broad shoulders and then casually pulled him into an embrace.
Angel felt one cold hand settle
on his neck, solid, physical evidence of all he’d achieved. A companion, a
childe and a seer.
“When I was in Pylea there was
this guy doing the dance of joy. That’s how I feel, as if I’m doing this insane
dance of joy…. I’m not alone anymore. Do you know what it means?”
“Yeah, I know. Loneliness is the
killer.” Spike agreed. “Even quarrelling with you was better than loneliness.”
“Never again though. I always
thought that Shanshu would be the end. Earn redemption, become human and
finally die. That’s all it ever was to me, task done and closure. Then as I
turned you, made you my childe, the woman called it; 'the doorway to the
flawless heart of the universe’, the means to redemption. Alone we would have
failed, together we have a chance. No more loneliness. Bound together. My seer
for eternity. My childe…”
“Give it several days and you’ll
be cursing the fact.”
“When you were human but I
thought you were dead….”
“You were strong, Angel. You’re
always strong.”
“Yeah but when I’m alone… it’s
too hard without you. I’m talking about life, you get that, don’t you?”
Spike gave a cockeyed grin.
“Whatever.”
They stood together looking out
at the dark landscape of the gardens, so peaceful, almost idyllic.
“Difficult to believe it was a
battleground.” Angel commented.
“Yeah, that was one helluva
welcome home party, Pet. Not everyday we get the chance to battle a dragon.
Huh… home.” He savoured the word. “Gotta say, it’s bloody good to be back.”
“Don’t ever disappear again.”
The emotionless tone failed to disguise the depth of feeling.
Spike reflected a second before
sighing.
“I can’t promise and neither can
you. We do whatever’s necessary.”
“I’m glad you’re here but it’s
raised the stakes. I guess everything’s easier when there’s nothing to lose.”
“You were just disconnected.
That place drove you insane with doubt.”
“I know, but don’t you ever
worry that everything we do is pointless?”
“You see. This is just your
problem; you think too much. It does you no good. Look, we play our part as
best as we can. Yeah, sometimes we’re wrong and sometimes we stumble, we’re not
saints. But there’s one thing I’ve learnt from all this; wasting energy on
regret is one the most pointless ways of spending an hour, far better to work
out the angst doing something practical and go kick the shit out of another
evil monster.”
Angel rolled his eyes.
“Don’t patronise me, Childe. I
know we’re not saints and when you’re grabbing your axe, I’ve already got my
sword in my hand. I was only asking if you ever felt doubt.”
“Oh. Well yeah, sometimes.”
Spike admitted. “But I refuse to brood on it and it passes.”
“I don’t…”
“Yeah, you do.”
“I prefer to think of it as…”
“Pondering? Same …”
“Not what…”
“Contem….”
“No. Well, okay. Yes. But I
need…”
“Understood.”
“Then why the…”
“Not criticism. Just
commenting…”
“Oh.”
“You’re too…”
“I’m not defensive!”
Spike raised his eyebrow at this
comment and Angel had the grace to concede. They enjoyed the familiarity of
old, meaningless, verbal sparring, so well used it almost slipped into
non-verbal. It had all the comfort of old clothes and worn slippers.
“Frightening that it’s taken us
over a hundred years to reach this time and place. All it needs is for some
hell god to sneeze and we’ll be blown away.”
Angel looked thoughtful before
replying softly, “Happiness never lasts though, does it? The more you attempt
to protect it, the faster it slips away.”
“Typical. Your only unhappiness
is your fear of losing it.” Spike’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “You’re a
constant contradiction, Pet.”
“Just saying, it’s
insubstantial. The only certainty is this moment.”
“We can plan for other moments
just like this.”
“And whilst we make plans, real
life happens.”
“Then you have to seize the
day.”
“Carpe diem? You were always
about seizing the moment.”
“Yeah, I was. No change there
then.”
Spike suddenly leant forward and
kissed him. Not the gentle kiss of a loving childe or even over-exuberant
man-to-man affection that males sometimes shared in moments of triumph. The
kiss was rising passion and need. He pulled away and laughed quietly at Angel’s
shocked expression.
Neither vampire normally
expressed or showed such blatant displays of emotion, except maybe under the
guise of blood and bonding. Spike’s eyes held a wicked gleam and Angel fingered
his lips wondering what the kiss meant. An interesting potential, certainly.
Then he frowned. Spike must realise there were some places they could never
explore again.
“Sun’s rising.” Spike remarked
as though nothing extraordinary had occurred.
It was still pitch black, but
towards the horizon the skies held a hint of iron grey.
“A new day. What will we make of
it?”
“Sleep gets my personal vote.”
Angel agreed with a theatrical
stretch, allowing one arm to drop companionably around his childe’s shoulders.
They descended to the basement they had turned into a nest in some other
lifetime. Undressing, they shared a bed for the first time since Spike had
fallen at the Greater Well.
“You’re one day old, Spike.”
Spike frowned, “That can’t be
right. You can’t start counting from the beginning.”
“Sure I can. Vamps don’t count
the years before their turning and you rose a day ago.”
“When Buffy returned to life we
didn’t start counting again.”
“This is different. You’re my childe,
I’m your sire and I say how it’s going to be, Fledge.”
“Master vampire here, one that’s
gonna whip your hide. Sire.”
Angel smiled. He reached out an
arm to allow Spike to settle on his shoulder.
“Whatever you say, but save the
whipping for tomorrow, I’m beat.”
“Yeah, me too.”
“So does it feel different this
time around?”
Spike was silent
“Being turned again, being my
childe?”
“It feels no different.” He
lied.
“All that soul searching just
for that?”
But Spike would say nothing
more.
Angel wrapped an arm around
Spike’s neck, wrist pressed to his mouth.
“Drink. I want my fledgling to
grow big and strong. He’s got some interesting times ahead.”
Spike grunted in annoyance at
being called a fledge, but his irritation didn’t extend to refusing sire’s
blood. In some ways he was very much the fledgling Angel named him. He latched
on to the wrist and felt the blood course through his body and sighed in
contentment, falling asleep with fangs still embedded in Angel’s flesh. Angel
left them there, until, as Spike slumbered, his face relaxed into his human
aspect and his head tilted away. He took Spike’s hand and brought a finger to
his mouth, then gently bit down, rolling the few drops of blood around his
mouth, attempting to find what it was that Spike was so eager to hide. There he
found it, something new, something that belonged wholly to his childe. He
tasted a deep passion and need for his sire, far surpassing anything he’d ever
felt for Angelus. Spike loved him with the devotion of a new childe. And feared
his loss with the resignation of experience.
Soul and demon reached a rare
agreement. They would never leave this childe again. Instead he would search
again for ways to secure his soul, something he’d never pursued before, never having
the spur to drive him to attempt it. Now, as he looked at Spike’s sleeping
face, almost beautiful in repose, he found all the stimulus he needed. He
remembered nights between their unsouled selves and wanted to explore this new
thing with his souled childe. His blood quickened at the thought, and he felt
the thrill of excitement pulse through him. Never since the curse had life held
such promise. This afternoon, he would begin investigating it the moment he
woke.
Angel was weary, this was his
first rest since the battle and he quickly followed his childe into sleep,
thinking of their life to come. Their quest for redemption wouldn’t be easy.
Even now they might still fail. He hadn’t been bluffing when he mentioned
interesting times. He’d overheard the conversation between Buffy and
Fred was wondering the same
thing. She had been the first to raise her hand when Angel asked for volunteers
to help him against the Circle of Black Thorn. She’d done so with no
expectation of surviving. They’d had all the power of Wolfram and Hart at their
disposal but it had meant nothing as, ultimately powerless, they fell from one
crisis to the next. She’d gotten tired of it and as she raised her hand, so the
power and certainty had flooded back. She’d drawn the line in the sand, this
far and no further. Not everyone had the luxury of choosing the time and manner
of their death. She’d chosen this time and this fight.
Yet against all odds she had
survived and so had everyone she cared about. They were going to start up Angel
Investigation. The Council had proved itself in its first major battle. And
Wesley loved her. She corrected herself. She and Wesley were lovers. She looked
across at his face highlighted by the soft glow of a nightlight. His long
lashes sweeping towards his cheeks, his sleep tousled hair, the slight curve of
his lips as he slept...
“I can feel you looking at me.”
He murmured without opening his eyes.
“That was an easy guess. I’m
always looking at you.”
“What have I done to deserve
you?”
“Maybe you were really bad in a
past life.” She suggested and a smile tugged at his mouth.
He stretched a hand sleepily
towards her. She took it and laid it against her face. She loved his touch.
“What were you thinking?”
“Oh, I was just wishing that
everyone was as happy as us.”
“I think Angel and Spike are.”
“Wasn’t it amazing when Spike
stepped out? You could feel the shock of emotions ripple through the
battlefield. Then when they worked together to bring down the dragon… you’re
right, I’ve never seen them so happy.”
They snuggled down to enjoy
their last couple of hours of sleep before it was time to rise again.
Minutes after falling asleep
Angel awoke, jolting himself upright. His eyes widened with terror. It couldn’t
be… he’d been happy but there had been no sex, sure he’d been thinking of it,
but he’d definitely remember sharing orgasms with Spike.
Then there was no time for
thought, he could feel agony building inside, tearing at the fabric of his
identity and splitting him in two. For an instance, he was a cloven figure of a
man, writhing in anguish, howling out against the loss of his most precious
possession, as his soul ripped loose and the demon struggled free, breaking its
hated shackles.
He fled, fearing the wave of
destruction his demon would unleash. Staggering outside and sinking to his
knees, a burgeoning scream of despair was swallowed by euphoric laughter as
Angelus emerged from the depth of imprisonment. He raised himself from the
ground and the predator surveyed his world with delight. He was free and the
night belonged to him.
The world was full of wonder and
potential, he felt like a newborn vampire, lost to the sights and the scents,
and oh! What fragrances. Blood and pain from the recent battle. Slayer blood.
He smacked his lips at the thought of the house, a veritable chocolate box
filled with tasty morsels, slayers, young and sweet as nectar.
Then a frown marred his brow as
he remembered Spike, the one thing that he and Angel agreed upon - the turning
of Spike. The newly forged blood bond was roaring in his ears. It called to him
and, souled or not, he wanted his boy, wanted to teach him what it meant, to be
the childe of Angelus. But the slayers and Spike combined, presented a problem.
Reluctant as he was to abandon his fledgling, their bond meant he couldn’t hide
or dissemble. Spike’s awareness and the slayers collective strength would have
him bound and souled in no time. He growled in anger but accepted that he had
no immediate alternative, except to flee the nest, stretching the golden thread
of their bond until it snapped.
He moved quietly back inside,
dressing and picking up the things he needed. All but one. His childe was resting
in sweet oblivion. Angelus thought of picking him up and running. But he
wouldn’t risk his freedom, not before he’d considered all his options. He would
have liked to have left some clue, a sketch or a bloodied heart but he didn’t
have time for his games… yet. Instead, he departed quickly, taking a Wolfram
and Hart car, still stowed in the garage. As he drove away he reflected that
nothing was forever and when he’d reached full strength then he would be back
for his childe.
He melted into the night as
though he were part of it.
Spike slept deeply until the
afternoon, awakening with a stretch and a grunt, wondering where Angel had
disappeared to. He called out, planning to tease him for neglecting his day old
childe, but there was no answer. Unconcerned, he showered and wandered
upstairs. Still no sign of Angel. He hung with the remaining slayers and
contacted Wesley and Giles to discover if they’d sent the other vampire out on
some mission but no one had seen him or heard from him.
Everyone convened at the house
and began dealing with the outstanding practical matters. Giles drove the last
of the visiting slayers to the airport and then helped Gunn, Fred and Wesley
set to work clearing away the detritus of the battle. Gunn scouted the grounds
to gather any weapons that were still serviceable.
“Hell! I’ve got myself an
armoury.”
“Give them to the Council.”
Spike said. “They’re more likely to need that quantity of weaponry than we
are.”
“What all of them?” Gunn asked
in disappointment.
“Well, no. I’ll take that….”
“Axe.” The others chorused.
“I’m not that predictable. I was
going to say… well yeah, ok. Axe. Pass it over will you?”
Giles eyed the gory weapons with
distaste.
“I fervently hope you were
planning on cleaning them before palming them off onto me?”
“Of course. Charlie boy was just
going to suggest that very thing. Weren’t you?”
“Hey, it’ ok with me. Would
rather be cleaning weapons than cleaning a house. Probably why the vampire has
gone AWOL, washing and cleaning is clearly women’s work.”
Chris and Erica entered just as
he finished speaking.
Gunn took in the situation; Fred
hovering with a nasty looking scourge in her hand and the two slayers who
headed Spike’s crack squad.
“Yeah. Sorting and classifying
weapons, clearly women’s work. You know it takes… ummm intelligence and…uhh…
guys help me out?” He pleaded.
They eyed him with pity but
turned away, after all they had their own skins to protect.
“Whaddya think, Chris? Fred?
Leave him in one piece or…” Erica asked a nasty gleam in her eye as she fingered
the edge of a lethal looking dagger.
“Well he is sort of on our side,
I suppose.” Fred said.
“Fair enough. Gunn you get on
with cleaning the house and we’ll make a start on the weapons.”
Gunn cut his losses and
dutifully picked up a cloth.
“So no one knows where the ponce
has gone, then?” Spike asked for the third time.
“We’re not his keepers, Spike.”
“Could have bloody well left us
a message though.”
“Maybe it’s a surprise. He might
have gone to the mall. He threw out most your things when you, you know… left.”
Fred suggested.
“Buying me presents, you mean?”
Spike’s eyes lit up. It would be just like the Poof, the only man he’d ever
known who actually enjoyed shopping.
So Spike relaxed and spent the
rest of the day rediscovering old routines, training his slayers and hindering
with the cleaning. But as evening fell and the night wore on he felt a twinge
of uneasiness and tried to fight down a useless surge of anxiety.
“Still no word from him?” Gunn
asked.
“Not yet.” Fred replied with a
small shrug.
“You’ve got to admit, its damned
odd.”
Spike was fiddling with his
empty mug and finally gave in to his nagging disquiet.
“Sod this.”
Withdrawing to the basement he
found the silence he needed. This was something he’d never attempted before, a
deliberate search for his sire. He knew it could be done; Angel had used it
before to locate him. Closing his eyes he concentrated and followed the
tendrils of their bond. Relief swept through him. Still alive. But there was no
sense of direction in the link, just a feeling of distance. Alive but distant.
What the hell was happening?
They searched the city,
questioned contacts and interrogated anyone who might have information, with
limited success. The general conclusion confirmed Spike’s suspicions. Angel had
left.
“Well at least he’s still
alive.” Giles said.
“But why has he left? Supposing
he’s been kidnapped or something?”
Wesley took Fred’s hand and gave
it an affectionate squeeze.
“Don’t worry, we’ll find him.
Spike was sick of all the
talking.
“Well? What are you waiting
for?”
Wesley was confident and began
with the demon finding spell. They spread out a map of the
“I’ve been wanting to try this
out.
There was silence as sand was
distributed evenly over the map.
“There we have it.” Wesley
pronounced with quiet satisfaction. “He’s in
“And
“
“Oh dear.”
“Bloody hell! Don’t say that,
Percy. It never bodes well.”
“What’s gone wrong, Wes?”
“Nothing, that is, I’ve done
everything just as
“So there are now twenty odd
Angels?” Gunn asked.
It was Giles who replied.
“Obviously not. I believe Angel
knew we would try to locate him in this manner and he’s reflected shadows of
himself around the country.”
“Whaddya mean shadows?”
“Of course.” Wesley agreed.
“It’s shadow play. Making an Angel shaped shadow and projecting it far away
from where he is. Although it does appear to suggest that he doesn’t wish to be
discovered.”
Spike’s apprehension changed to
leaden apathy and his fragile happiness evaporated. Angel had left and didn’t
want to be found. He’d frigging run off again.
“Try something else.”
Wesley thought for a minute.
“There is something but I’m not
as adept as
“What?” Spike asked with a
frown.
“I don’t know how much they told
you about their attempt to find you.
“She did?” Spike and Giles made
a perfect duet of the words.
Wesley merely raised his
eyebrows and nodded.
“Instead they found you in
“You’ve never tried commuting on
the underground during rush hour.”
“Quite. Anyway, providing I
don’t have to search other dimensions then I think this soul search would
work.”
“What are we waiting for?”
“I need to meditate and please
no distractions.”
Wesley sat cross-legged, using a
crystal as his focus. The others waited in silence as the minutes dragged out. Finally,
Wesley gasped and fell forward, Fred was immediately there, putting an arm
around him.
“You ok?” she asked.
He opened his eyes and nodded
“Well?”
“I’m sorry. His soul is either
no longer here or Angel has found a way of blocking this search too.”
“He just doesn’t want to be
found, Spike man. Maybe we should give him his space. He’ll turn up again
eventually.”
“Why would Angel leave? He
seemed happy.” Fred asked the question that was in all their thoughts.
“Maybe it wasn’t Angel, I
couldn’t locate his soul, it could mean… was he with you when you slept?”
Spike nodded.
“I’m sorry, but I must ask. Were
you and Angel…intimate?” Wesley asked.
“Intimate? We shared blood
occasionally so I’d say, yeah, pretty intimate.” Spike replied with deliberate
misunderstanding. “What’s your point?”
“No, I mean did you know him…in
the biblical sense?”
“Hell, Wes.” Gunn shook his head
in disbelief. “The man wants to know if you and Angel were getting it on, you
know doing the groiny thing?”
“Doing the groiny thing? Good grief.
What the children are trying to ask is, did you and Angel engage in sexual
intercourse?” Giles clarified.
“Yeah, what he said.” Gunn
agreed.
“What do you think we are? Even
if we wanted to, which we didn’t, there’s this little curse thing. You honestly
think either of us would be that irresponsible?”
There was a shuffling of feet
and shaking of heads but their eyes remained doubtful.
“Christ on a cross! The answer
is no, ok?”
“So why did he leave, did you
argue?”
“Yeah, course. We argue all the
time. But he was happy. Pig in shit, cow in clover happy.”
“Can you feel him now?”
“Nothing specific, either he’s
too far away or he’s shielding. I’m getting nothing.”
“Right, we’ll do what we can to
find him, use our contacts, try more spells, whatever it takes. We will find
him, Spike.”
The days wore on. Spike was
scratchy and restless. He might be over a hundred years old but at the same
time he was no different from any other newborn vampire. He needed his sire.
Sometimes he was overwhelmed with need and the restlessness would drive him
from the house, seeking to release his energy into hunting and confronting the
latest evil, running like the wind to chase it down and battling with the
frenzy of a whirling dervish. On nights like these he would return bloodied and
tired, physical exhaustion finally sending him to sleep. Mostly he would be
tied up in research, chasing down the smallest of clues, hardly sleeping and
hardly waking but in that in between stage, constantly on edge, held in limbo.
Waiting.
It was one of those days. He was
sitting at the computer going through Angel’s files, hoping that something
would click into place and make sense of the puzzle. There was an audible
click. Another email. He didn’t recognise the email address: Some pretentious
spotty school kid more than likely. Still even spotty school kids might need
help. He opened it.
Spike stared at the message on
his screen trying to take it in:
After the kiss, I realised
what was in your heart. I bit your finger and tasted it in your blood. I
haven’t that sort of passion in me. Not for you. Decided it would be better if
I left. Sorry. Don’t try to find me. A.
Short, to the point and finally,
a reason for his abandonment. He stared in pained disbelief. He remembered long
nights when passion pulled at them as continuously and as powerfully as the
tides that rose to meet the moons. Passion that seemed insatiable when they’d
tumble to the bed again, laughing at their exuberance and need.
He sent his reply
Liar.
Why had Angel claimed to leave because
of the kiss? It hurt too much. He stopped thinking. The click of a received
email, he sat for a while and contemplated it, lying in his inbox like a trap
waiting to be sprung. He went and heated up a mug of blood. He needed all the
strength he could muster. Finally he opened it.
You mistake me for Angelus.
Was that true? It was Angelus
who had travelled with him on that voyage of discovery. He himself had been
un-souled, yet it had still been his journey and his passion. Maybe this was
different for his sire. Did he even know Angel? One thing he knew for sure.
You were happy with me…
He wanted to take back that
message as soon as he’d sent it. It looked too pathetic and needy. He was such
a sad tosser. Maybe he could recall it… too late it had been opened. Supposing
he denied even his happiness. Yet that couldn’t be right, Spike had tasted it
in his blood and seen it shining from him, making him vibrant and alive. He’d
been doing the sodding Pylean happy dance.
click
I was. But with the kiss you
changed the rules. It switched something off inside me. You fell asleep and I
had a vision of you offering your skinny little ass to me… I freaked and left.
Damn. That had to be up there
with Cecily and Buffy and the most wounding words given to him. He seemed to be
making quite a collection of them. There must be some way of putting this
right.
Come home. I can live without
passion.
click
Liar
This casual cruelty was unlike
Angel. The only thing he was sure about was that Angel was deliberately pushing
him away. It went against everything they’d built over the past months.
You’re afraid of the curse.
Spike was almost certain he had
a handle on where Angel was coming from. He’d been happy and was afraid of
where of it might lead.
Whatever you want, Spike.
Yeah. Sure. I was afraid of finding perfect happiness in your ass. Sheesh.
Spike considered the message. He
found it hard to say whether it was the sarcasm or the patronising tone he most
objected to. Or maybe it was the realisation that perhaps Angel was speaking
the truth and he’d lost him. Friendship, love, companionship all lost because
of his weakness, his inability to keep his bloody stupid feelings to himself.
Barely one week old and he’d lost his sire already. Nice going Spike, new
bloody record.
He stood up, stepped back and
then kicked out at the screen, sending it hurtling across the room and crashing
into the far wall. The noise brought Fred running in.
“Spike! Why…?”
His eyes held a peculiar
emptiness.
“I’ve lost…” He stopped, unable
to give voice to his loss.
“You lost…? Oh! The computer
beat you at one of your games?”
Wesley and Gunn also entered and
surveyed the wreckage.
“I know what it’s like. You’re
on the edge of your seat, nearly finished a level and then you crash and burn.
It’s a natural reaction. Never mind man, you may have lost at Full Metal
Jacket, but you beat it hands down at kick boxing.”
“Maybe you should try Simcity, I
find it most relaxing.” Wesley recommended.
He looked at them with
incredulous eyes.
“Are you all stupid?”
No immediate answer sprang to
their minds
“Angel has left. It’s my fault
‘parently. He doesn’t want us to search for him.”
He looked at their shocked
faces, shook his head and stomped out.