A/N
Chapter warning – fluff and cheesiness ::hangs head in shame::
Chapter 11
Mountain High
Wesley found him first.
He was sitting on the floor and
he was crying.
After Spike’s hostile and distraught
phone call, Wesley had mentally prepared himself for just about anything.
Anything except this. He crouched down next to the dark haired vampire and
tentatively reached out a hand.
“Angel?”
When he looked up Wesley was
suddenly uncertain whether it had been tears or laughter. He slowly stood and
backed away. He didn’t recognise the expression on Angel’s face, but felt like
he might have seen a version of it on Angelus. Oh dear lord… He backed towards
the door.
Angel still had tears gleaming
on his cheeks, but he seemed to have recovered himself and he was rising to his
feet, an unholy smile of joy on his face.
“Wesley?”
“Stay away from me!” Wesley
fumbled for the stake that he always carried.
The vampire curiously watched
the action and then seemed to realise what the human was doing. It made him
throw back his head and stare at the ceiling. Never again. Never again would he
have to see fear of him reflected on the faces of his friends. He began to
laugh quietly, which made Wesley even more nervous. Before he could fully
extract the stake the vampire had pounced. He was pinned in an embrace, unable
to move. His heart sped up and as the familiar face drew away he saw again the
glee in those brown eyes and then that mouth was coming towards him.
This was it. He could never have
denied Angel his friendship, but in a way, he always knew it would end like
this. The cold embrace and descending fangs. Except the fangs didn’t descend.
Instead he was nearly swallowed whole by an exuberant kiss that left him reeling
and breathless. He clung to a strong arm for support and saw Angel looking at
him, mischief alight in his eyes. Fear rapidly turned to anger.
“You… you…! What the…? I nearly
bloody died of terror! And… bloody hell, you kissed me…”
“Yeah. Sorry. Come on lets go.”
Angel was still on his high and nearly bouncing with excitement. Today a brand
new world opened before him.
“You don’t look sorry. Where are
we going? And why did you…?”
“Yo guys? Everything cool up
there?”
Gunn had got here as soon as he
could, but morning traffic had held him up.
They’d been worried about him!
God, Angel loved these guys so damned much. Wesley caught the look in his eye
and this time understood what it meant.
“Gunn? Start running.”
Gunn backed away nervously. What
the hell…?
“Oh.! Bleah!” He scrubbed at his
mouth and made little spitting sounds. “What the hell’s got into you dude? I’m
warning you, you ever do that again…”
But Angel was already heading
out.
“Come on you guys. Lets go.”
Gunn and Wesley exchanged a
look.
“Dunno about you man, but I’m
not sure I wanna get in the car with him… supposing he tries to jump our bones?
I’ve never seen him like this, what is it with him?”
“Well, taking a wild stab in the
dark, I’d say that we’ve never really seen him happy before.”
“Ok... Normally that means bad
news for us, as in the rabid rottweiler Angelus. Instead we get over-exuberant
puppy Angel. What’s up with this, English?”
Wesley had already worked it out
and gave a soft smile.
“Charles, I believe he has a
permanent soul.”
They both watched as the vampire
shielded himself under his leather jacket and bounded towards the car. There
was no doubt about it. Happiness was rolling off him in waves. Gunn gave a low
whistle.
“No wonder he’s smooching
everyone in sight.” He suddenly looked a little unsure of himself and cleared
his throat nervously. “I mean, he did the same to you as well, right? Yeah?
Wes…?”
Angel could hardly keep still.
He was thrumming with happiness and couldn’t stop grinning. He knew it was making
the others nervous but they’d just have to get used to it, cus it wasn’t going
away anytime soon. At the moment he was considering how to break the news to
Spike. It didn’t feel right just calling him up and telling him over the phone
and email was even worse.
“Go to him. Surprise him.” Fred
suggested
Angel thought about it. It was a
good idea, but it meant that he didn't dare talk to Spike. Despite Angel’s loud
and repeated declarations, the boy wasn’t an idiot, he’d suss out in no time
that there was something going on. How could he not when Angel was virtually
singing with happiness?
He thought carefully of how he
could surprise Spike. It was so important that he got this right and there were
so many ways he could mess it up. He remembered everything that Spike had ever
said or reacted to. That he’d never been loved before. How he felt like Angel’s
dirty little secret. The fact that Angel had always put Darla, Dru and Buffy
before Spike.
It would take a dramatic gesture
to help deal with all that baggage. Angel turned cold and a knot of dread was
tying up his stomach because suddenly he knew what he had to do and the thought
of it made him nearly throw up. He swallowed down his anxiety. This more than
anything would convince Spike that he was serious. He decided, he was going to
go through with it.
Meanwhile there was another
issue that still needed to be dealt with. It was time to make that promised
call to Buffy. For the first time since Angelus had returned, he finally felt
that he had enough strength for them all and he could fix everything he’d
broken.
oooo
Spike was beginning to get that
distinctly uncomfortable feeling that he’d cocked up again, not having heard
from the Poof for three days. Three sodding days! Trouble was, he wasn’t
altogether sure what he’d done wrong and it was really beginning to piss him
off. His first instinct was to send a snotty message and hey, go with your
instinct that was his philosophy.
Subject: So what’s…
…crawled up your ass and died?
He considered the message. It
was succinct, to the point and neatly summed up the general thrust of his
argument. He clicked send. And waited. He kept the pc logged on all day. He
checked every half hour for a reply. Eventually, using all his self control, he
managed to drag it out to nearly forty minutes between the quick casual checks
of his inbox. Time zones meant that they were bound to be out of sync
occasionally, thus he reasoned with himself. After twelve hours that line of
reasoning was beginning to wear a tad thin.
He was pacing the room and
chewing on the end of his fingers because he’d run out of smokes. This was
truly pathetic, behaving like a bleeding lovesick puppy and he hated it. It
smacked too much of William and the human he used to be. There again supposing
his sire was in trouble? He dismissed the thought. There was no sense of
absence, other than the one emanating from his empty email box. Angel had been
managing by himself for the last one hundred years, no reason for it to change
now.
The sun would be rising soon, may
as well take a kip and attempt to pass a few more hours. He went to bed and
managed to sleep through part of the morning, but his inbox was beckoning and
he could resist its siren call no longer.
Nothing. Bloody nothing.
Now he really was worried and the
carpet was beginning to show wear from his restless pacing. Angel hadn’tlogged
on for over twenty-four hours, hadn’t made contact for four days. What the hell
did it mean? For better or worse it was time to find out. He rang the Agency.
Fred answered.
“Hey, Pet. Is the Poof there?”
“Oh, hi Spike! How are you? You
got another vision for us?”
“I’m fine and no, no visions. Is
he there?”
“Sorry. He’s not. I mean he’s
around but, you know, kinda busy.”
“Uh huh. So is he ok?”
“Yes. Just…”
“Busy?”
Spike didn’t know what to make
of this.
“So what’s he been up to?”
“The usual. You know him,
working and fighting and all. Pretty much the same old, same old.”
“Right. So nothing different?”
“Well, Buffy and uh… Buffy came
to visit, so he’s been pretty busy with her.”
Spike’s brain was working
overtime and on that flimsy evidence a whole scene was taking shape in his
head.
“Buffy, eh? How long she been
visiting for?”
“I’m not sure… three or four
days I guess.”
“She staying long?”
“I think they’ve been discussing
her moving back to
“Yep. That’s… great.”
The imagined scene in his head
had grown to a full length novel, complete with epilogue.
“You ok, Spike?”
“Never been better. Cheers Pet.”
He gently put down the phone.
So he was seeing Buffy again and
Buffy was now a package deal, two for the price of one.
Spike was a patient man. Ask any
of his friends. Hell, his name was practically a byword for patience. Patient
and mild-mannered. Yeah, he was sure these hypothetical friends would call him
mild-mannered. Clarke Kent and Job all rolled into one patient and
mild-mannered package. But he’d finally had it. Enough was e-sodding-nough. He
punctuated this thought with a cracking kick to the defenceless wall.
A hundred years of rage bubbled
through him. A hundred years of never knowing where he stood in his sire’s
affections. A hundred years of being picked up, put down, tossed aside.
Affection, abandonment, love, torture and the only constant had been his own
feelings that had kept him circling faithfully around Angel like a planet
enslaved in orbit around a shining star.
Resentment and anger flashed
inside. He was so bloody stupid. An idiot. It was like he’d said, soon as you loved
someone you handed them a weapon to cut you with. Christ, he had thought these
games were over, thought he could trust again, but it was always the same with
Angel, start to trust him and you’d wake up one evening with a wooden stake
hanging precariously over your heart, and everything you thought was true,
turning into just another crazy game.
Something that Angelus had said
rang in his memory: Angel had fallen asleep dreaming about the scent of wet,
bathed baby, dreamed Buffy would come along and invite him to join the family.
It dawned on Spike that he’d been mistaken. Angel’s perfect happiness hadn’t
been about him. It had been a combination of things, including a fantasy of how
life with Buffy could be. Of course he’d chosen Buffy. Spike wasn’t stupid, he
knew by now how this story went. He’d seen it played out enough sodding times.
He added some detail to his
novel. He could see it all so clearly. Angel had been feeling lonely, probably
brooding over Connor, when suddenly Buffy appeared, the love of his life,
complete with the unclaimed sprog. It would have been a seductive combination
that Angel just wouldn’t have been able to resist. Of course he’d have felt
guilty about Spike, pulled a sorrowful face and peered at Buffy through his
puppy-dog eyes, but in the end how could he have resisted temptation? Which
would explain why he’d been unable to face his childe for the last few days.
Well bully for him, because this
childe didn’t give a damn. Pick up with Buffy, claim the infant as his own.
Whatever. The satellite was finally spinning free of its predestined orbit, cus
there was no such thing as predestination. You get out there and make your own
destiny. In fact, now that he thought about it, there was no such thing as
love. It was a myth that needed two people to believe in it in order to gain
any sort of existence, and as soon as one person stopped believing, the myth
exploded into the lie it had always been. It was an act of faith, not an
absolute as he’d always thought. And Spike was all out of faith.
Loving Angel had been like
hanging on to a rollercoaster, exciting and heart-stopping, but now he was
finally tired of the ride and wanted to get off. He felt a flash of hurt before
he could tamp it down. All these feeling and emotions were just a remnant left
over from the idiot William, and after one-hundred and twenty years it was time
to finally bury the poor sod, screw down the casket and shovel on the earth. No
more manic emotions. No more love that made him feel like he was soaring high
or hurt that made him want to curl up in the sun. It was time to put such
childish emotions away.
He felt good, as though he’d
spent his life drowning in a sea of passion and was finally surfacing for the
first time in years. Now that he no longer cared about Angel a sense of peace
washed through him. The sea of passion drained away, anger receded and left
only a sense of tranquillity. He realised he’d spent his life as a child, all
tantrums and rage and need. Why would Angel want that, now there was Buffy and an
actual child who needed his care? Maybe this was for the best for both of them.
Time to grow up. Next time he
saw his sire, he’d be mature and adult. He’d speak to Angel and Buffy
reasonably. Give the kid a pat on the head if ever he saw it.
The phone rang. Spike put a hand
on it, debating whether to answer it. It was probably Mick with arrangements
for tonight.
Then he heard his voice.
“Spike?”
He sounded a bit weird. Subdued.
As though he was keeping his voice carefully under control. No wonder, what with
having to tell him about Buffy and all. Spike was still feeling remarkably
mature and decided to help him out.
“Hey, how’s things?”
“A damn sight better for hearing
your voice. You ok?”
Spike closed his eyes. Why did
they still have to go through the rigmarole of pretence?
“I’m fine. How are you?”
“Uh… ok. Are you sure you’re
alright. Sorry I haven’t been in touch, I’ve just been…”
“Busy? Yeah, Fred said. It’s
fine. I understand.”
“Do you? I was kinda worried
that you’d be mad at me.”
“Why would I be mad?”
“Look. I’m sorry…”
Angel had finally checked in and
picked up the pissed off email, courtesy of Spike. He had been about to launch
into a more convincing excuse about why he hadn’t been in contact.
Spike thought he’d save him the
embarrassment of having to explain about Buffy.
“It’s ok. Fred told me.”
“She what!”
Angel couldn’t believe that Fred
had spoilt his surprise. Disappointment washed through him.
Spike took a breath. He felt so
calm.
“It’s ok. I’m pleased for you.
You deserve a bit of happiness.”
“You’re pleased for me? Is that
all you’ve got to say?”
“Well… yeah.”
“Jesus, Spike! It’s the greatest
moment of my life and that’s all you have to say?”
Spike concentrated. Calm. Calm.
He was a sea of tranquillity.
“Well that’s great. Yeah. Great.
Are they moving into our… the house?”
There was silence.
“Angel?”
“Are who what?”
Oh god. He was trying to hide
what was happening, it would help if he could just be honest. Spike gave an
audible sigh.
“I’ve told you its ok. I mean
Buffy is Buffy and who wouldn’t… and then there’s the… anyway, we always said
there would be others. Just try not to be too happy, yeah?”
“What did Fred tell you
exactly?”
“Don’t blame her. There were no
details, just that you and Buffy were seeing each other…”
“Me and Buffy…? And it’s ok?
You’re happy for me? How frigging mature of you. You don’t feel like you
ought to fight against it a little?”
Spike wondered why he sounded
angry, but who knew with his sire. Hot, cold, angry. loving… never seemed much
rhyme or reason to it. He tried again.
“I know I can be selfish git,
but there’s little enough happiness in this world, if you’ve found a piece then
hold on to it.”
There was a moment’s silence.
“I intend to.”
He sounded solemn, as though
he’d uttered words of great import.
“Oh. Good.”
Spike choked slightly. Must have
been something he ate caught in his throat.
“I’ll catch you later.”
“Ok.”
The line went dead.
It felt odd. There had been no
appreciation of the effort he’d made. No small words of affection. He gave himself
a mental shake. He wasn’t going to worry about these things anymore. He’d left
that orbit and was no longer an Angel satellite. So he pulled on the clothes,
tousled his hair and put on the attitude. It was time to get on with living his
life once more.
There was some sort of
celebration tonight, which they insisted he attended. He couldn’t remember what
it was, if they’d ever told him. He’d kind of miss coming back and chatting to
Angel about his evening.
The door bell rang and his place
was invaded. He’d forgotten that they were congregating here before moving on.
“Will, babe. You’re not going
out in that T-shirt. It’s a bloody celebration not a wake. Where’s that sexy,
little, show-it-all thing that you had on last week?”
“What the hell have you done to
you hair. Here stand still. Where’s your gel. Now ain’t that better. Oy, mate,
where are all your bleedin’ mirrors?”
This was worse than the slayer
makeover. No detail was too small. His chunky bracelet was changed for a black
leather shoe sting affair. A silver ear cuff was pressed around the tip of his
ear. They almost managed to smother him in some poncey smelling designer shit,
but he drew the line.
“Will you get off me? Sod off,
you wankers. What the hell do you think you’re playing at?”
“Come on, Will. We’re going to a
new club tonight. Opening night. You gotta look your best else you let the side
down.”
That he could believe. Image was
everything to these people, but he felt a bit miffed nonetheless. Did he look
so terrible that they had to come around and dress him before he went out?
“You’re focused on the wrong
bloke then. I mean, who wears a caterpillar like that on their lip these days?”
His tone was snarky, but did its
job, as he successfully managed to divert attention from himself and they found
someone else to pick on.
“Yeah. See what you mean, but it
sort of goes with the bum fluff on his chin.”
“Hey. I’ll have you know that
some guy told me I looked the spit of
“I remember that bloke. I
tripped over his white stick and landed on his guide dog.”
He put his hand over his ears.
“I’m not listening. I’m not
listening. You’re all just frigging jealous.”
“Yeah, dead jealous. I really
wish I could grow bum fluff like that on my face.”
oooo
Spike leant against a pillar
watching the ebb and flow of the crowds, feeling remote from it all. An
observer behind the glass watching the show: the poseurs, the newbies and the
tourists. He wondered what the hell he was doing here. Pills and poppers and
alcohol didn’t really help, merely fogged reality for a few hours. It wasn’t
mature and it wasn’t adult but it did help him forget. Although, increasingly
he found that there was a lot he wanted to remember. Like Angel’s smile, large
brown eyes that would turn bright with laughter or dark with lust. Physical
details such as the small raised mole next to his eye, the strength in the arms
as they held him, the sound of his voice and the brush of breath as unfamiliar
words were whispered into his ear.
Something was nagging inside
telling him he’d bollocksed up real life. It seemed ironic that he’d spent
weeks trying to lose himself in make believe and now, as he once again accepted
reality, he truly felt lost. Angel had given up on him and left him to drift in
this sea. He felt a wave of self-pity but resolutely fought it down. He was
moving on, just as Angel had.
Except he wasn’t quite sure he
was ready. He no longer loved Angel, but still there was a certain amount of
habit mixed in with his previous obsession. Thoughts would turn automatically
to his dark haired sire, critical eyes would evaluate and compare every one he
encountered and find them lacking. He recognised that it might take a little
time. A hundred years of believing himself in love was a helluva thing to get
over with a click of the fingers.
Suddenly he felt depressed and
didn’t want to be here, stuck in a noisy hot club.
“Mick? I’m going home.”
“You can’t go yet! The night’s
‘ardly begun.”
“Just tired.”
“Pinhead has got just what you
need. Little pick-me-ups. Here…”
“Nah. I just wanna…”
“You want to go home and brood
about your doctor bloke. It’s not the way, Will. You shouldn’t cut yourself off
from people that care about you.”
Spike gave a hollow laugh. Good
advice, but four days too late.
“No. I shouldn’t.”
“Look. I’m not stupid. I know
that look. You’re down and lost, but you have friends that care and will look
after you. You don’t always have to be strong, you know? Sometimes you can lean
on us. If you can take nothing else from us, take our company.”
Spike was genuinely touched.
“Yeah, uh, thanks. Sorry I’ve
been so… You’ve been a good mate.”
“Yep, and about time you
appreciated it. C’mon, let’s go up on the balcony, we can watch everyone and
take the piss out of them, you always enjoyed that.”
“Nah, s’okay. I know you’ve had
your eye on that bloke all night. You go do your stuff, a couple of people have
spotted me and I don’t think I’m gonna escape.”
“Well, if you’re sure. No
running home when I’m not looking, right?”
“Go. I’ll catch you later.”
He turned back and leant against
his pillar. There was no doubt they’d seen him.
“Is that you, Spike? What you
doing here?”
Two slayers were cuddled into
each other and laughing up with bright eyes.
“I never knew you were gay!”
“I’m not.” He growled.
“Well, obviously not, silly.”
The other girl berated her friend. “Remember Buffy? He’s bi.”
He rolled his eyes.
“I’m not bi, either.”
They looked at him in curiosity.
“So…”
“I think the word you’re
struggling to find is ‘vampire’.”
“Oh. Are all vampires…?”
“As far as I know, unless
they’ve got some serious hang-ups from their human days.”
“See? This is why we need you
here. Old Fogarty would never have taught us stuff like that.”
“Well, you’re supposed to be
staking the vamps so vampire sexuality don’t exactly enter into it.”
“He’s gotta point, but still
it’s interesting. Anyway, there’s some gadgee eyeing you up, best let you stand
alone so that you can try to look intriguing and mysterious.”
“Some of us don’t need to try,
luv. Some of us are intriguing and mysterious.”
They giggled and left arm-in-arm.
He could see the man they meant
and gave him a frank appraisal. He felt so zoned out and disconnected, maybe
this was what he needed. The man interpreted the appraisal as a come-on and
with a predatory smile made a beeline directly for him. Spike imagined being on
the balcony and watching this scene, him and Mick taking bets on the outcome.
Ah well. May as well play to the crowd. He affected a nonchalant pose and took
a swig of his drink.
The guy reached him and leaned
casually next to him, invading his space and ensuring he had Spike’s attention.
He was acting as though he thought he was the one in control of this encounter
and Spike was merely prey, to be hunted and swept of his feet. Spike’s lips
twitched at the thought that any human would have the gall to hunt him.
“So opening night, what do you
think of it?”
Spike looked around. It was a
nightclub, sleek and new. It had a slightly tacky prison theme, with ‘convicts’
dancing enthusiastically behind their bars. Still, people seemed to like it.
“Yeah. It should do well.”
“Hmmm. Glad you think so. By the
way, I’m Griff. The owner.”
He smiled and waited expectantly
for the gush of enthusiasm.
That was his chat up angle? He owned a
bleedin’ nightclub? Spike started to laugh, which took the man aback. Not the
reaction he was expecting.
“What?”
“Sorry, pet. I’m not playing my
part very well, am I? Here let me try again.”
Spike had been seducing people
for over a century, it had been his bread and butter, so to speak, and he
couldn’t resist turning the tables on this cocksure human. He looked around the
nightclub with wide innocent eyes and then gazed back at the man.
“Bloody hell, all this is
yours?” His tone lowered into a seductive purr. “Pretty impressive. I bet you’d
like to show me around, yeah? Maybe the penthouse upstairs? Your waterbed and
huge TV screen showing non-stop porn?”
“How did you know…?”
“I know you, pet. I know you’re
imagining it now, aren’t you? Silky white skin against your satin black sheets.
Is it getting to you, Griff? Hot sticky thoughts in your head.” Spike’s voice
had dropped another notch and it buzzed through the man, vibrating deep in his
body, touching places no one had ever touched before.
He abruptly realised that this
blonde guy was playing him and he was feeling caught somewhere between annoyed
and incredibly aroused. It flashed through his mind that he might be a little
out of his league, but he couldn’t stop. He was desperate for this honey, who
stood and mocked him.
He became slightly breathless as
he stared into hypnotic blue eyes.
“You must know that you’re the
most stunning man in here.” His voice was dark and husky.
Now that was an improvement as
far as chat up lines went and Spike rewarded him by turning slightly, so that
they were within inches of one another.
“You think so, pet?”
There was heat burning in the
man’s gaze.
“Yeah. Are you taken?”
Spike’s tongue flickered out and
moistened his lips. This bloke was pretty good looking, with his tanned skin,
dirty blonde hair and deep blue eyes. There was a hint of Brad Pitt about him.
Nothing like Angel’s dark beauty, but still, he was ok. At the thought of Angel
he became slightly pissed off, until he remembered that he was now perfectly
calm, tranquil, moving on. He hoped Angel’s spy was here taking pictures just to
prove how far he was moving on.
He shook his head, “No, I’m not
taken.”
The man drew his gaze away from
that fascinating tongue.
“Do you want to be?” He
whispered, the scent of desire rolling off him.
Yet despite his confident words
the man was aware that he was no longer in control of this encounter. Spike
gave an enigmatic smile, cocked a dark brow and swaggered on to the dance floor
in the surety that he was being watched and followed. He could admit that this
wasn’t the person he wanted, but maybe it was better than nothing, so he let
the dark beat of the music fill him, moving with an arrogance and grace that
let the whole club know that he was the most mesmerising creature here. His
porcelain skin glowed underneath ultraviolet strobes and he became a mythical
being caught in a mundane world. The other guy danced around him, never taking
his eyes off him.
The track finished and instead
of being smoothly mixed into the next the dj’s voice sounded low and sultry
over the sound system.
“I don’t normally do requests,
but this one is for Spike, so enjoy it, baby.”
The song began with low,
tinkling notes. Almost eerie after the heavy beat, the drum based rhythm and
the sweaty frenzy of the previous tracks.
Spike was puzzled. No one here
knew him by this name and he assumed that it was for someone else. But his
friends were dragging his would-be partner out of the way, hissing words into
his ears.
The nightclub owner was
remonstrating with them.
“No. Not him. If I’d realised it
was him I’d never have allowed…”
His voice was drowned by the
music, as a clear, piping voice began to sing liltingly:
“Who knows what tomorrow
brings
In a world few hearts survive.”
Spike looked around in confusion
and could see a path opening up through the crowd.
The air was hazy with dry ice,
but a dark figure was emerging through it, like a warrior striding through
early morning mist. Indistinct and clothed in smoke, even so the figure was
unmistakeable.
“Peaches?” he whispered.
In his astonishment he almost
forgot that he no longer loved him.
Angel smiled.
Harsh cracked tones began to
sing.
”All I know, is the way I
feel
When it’s real, I keep my prayer alive”
Angel was walking towards him
and Spike would swear that it all happened in slow motion, because he caught every
single detail. The way the hair was swept back as though caught in some
otherworldly breeze, the white v neck and the slight flare of his tailored
jacket, a glinting smile and a question in his eyes.
He looked young and happy. And
sexy. He oozed sex appeal with every movement and every expression. The twitch
of his mouth, the slow blink of his eyes, the prowling, predatorial steps. This
wasn’t the Angel he knew, the one that hated attention and show. Spike had
never seen him look so confident and gorgeous, and could only watch with round
astonished eyes.
The crowd seemed to open
naturally between them, as momentous in its way, as the parting of the
Spike had never seen him so
assured. He was moving with all the ease and grace of a panther stalking its
prey. Now his eyes were fixing on Spike with an unwavering gaze as the music
rose to a crescendo.
“Love lifts us up where we
belong
Where the eagles cry on a mountain high”
They were moving towards each
other, hardly realising what they were doing. They blazed in the darkness. Two
bodies attracted to each other, experiencing the pull of gravity and caught
helplessly in each other’s orbit.
“Love lifts us up where we
belong
Far from the world below
Up where the clear winds blow”
The song clicked into place. And
so did the film. Spike suddenly broke free of his trancelike progress and began
to feel a little anxious. He started to back away, but his friends were at his
back and refusing to let him budge an inch.
There was no way, no frigging
way on God’s green earth…
“Christ, no! Peaches! Angel!
Don’t…”
His eyes were widening with
horror.
“Some hang on to ‘used to be’
Live their lives looking behind
All we have is here and now”
Angel gave an evil chuckle, but
his eyes were filled with such love it made Spike speechless and he dropped his
own eyes in confusion. He didn’t know what was happening. Ok, he could admit
that it had maybe been too early to declare himself free from Angel’s sphere of
gravity, but why was his sire even here… where was Buffy? What the hell was
happening? He glanced up shyly. Why were brown eyes glinting so evilly, as
though Angelus was shining out of them? He fought for sense and then
remembered.
“Buffy…?”
“No. I’m Angel.”
“You’re with…”
“If I don’t have you, then I
have no one.”
Spike swallowed, his throat had
suddenly become parched.
“I choose you, Spike. Always
you. You’re my sun and I can’t escape you if I wanted to.”
Not a satellite enslaved to its star,
but a binary system, two blazing suns, circling each other through eternity.
Spike’s jaw dropped. His eyes
began to sting but it was just the damned smoke.
“You choose…? What do you mean?”
Angel reached him, took his face
in his hands and kissed him. Spike stubbornly resisted with all his strength.
He didn’t love Angel anymore. It was over. Then Angel moaned softly and Spike
melted inside. He couldn’t struggle against this feeling that swept over his
body and left him weak. He didn’t care about anything, all he needed was this
dancing electricity that sparked between them and made their bodies light up as
though truly alive. He opened his mouth and allowed Angel in, hardly aware of
the swelling music or the explosion of applause that crashed around them.
“Love lifts us up where we
belong
Far from the world we know
Up where the clear winds blow”
Angel reluctantly drew back and
stared as if captivated.
“Jeez, you are so beautiful.”
Spike looked bemused and
slightly dazed. The pressure of Angel’s lips still zinging through his nervous
system.
“Trust me.”
He gave a look of sheer
disbelief.
“Trust...? You must be sodding
joking.”
There was that crazy look back
in those brown eyes.
“I don’t like you being here.
You either choose me and walk out of here with me, or we do the Richard Gere
thing… I’ll lift you over my shoulder and stride out of the club, like some
prehistoric caveman with his captured mate.”
“Peaches?” Spike queried
nervously.
“I mean it. I’ll carry you out.
It won’t be dignified for you…” His eyes glinted “…ass in the air, the crowd
going wild…”
“Angel! Don’t you dare! I’ll sodding…
ohhh f…!
Angel had caught him around the
waist as though he was about to sweep him over his shoulder.
“Stop! I choose you! I fucking choose, you alright!”
Angel’s smile was beatific. He
caught Spike’s hand in his and pulled him forward. His mouth brushed against
Spike’s ear.
“Thank you, Love. I’ll make sure
you never regret it.”
Spike said nothing. He was torn,
part of him was melting the words and part of him was storming and raging
blindly over Angel’s heavy-handed arrogance. Becoming the floor show so was
not cool. Someone was going to pay for this, but for now all he wanted to
do was escape the place.
Angel smiled gently at him, gave him a small tug and hand-in-hand they billowed out of the club.
The cheers were lifting the rafters.
“Time goes by
No time to cry
Life’s you and I, alive, Baby”
“You’re dead, Angel. You are so
frigging dead. I’m gonna…”
Spike hissed out of the corner
of his mouth.
“Hush, childe. You need to be
more gracious in defeat.”
Spike felt the welcome breeze as
they finally hit the outside air. He could still hear the strains of the damned
song and the club going wild.
“Love lift us up where we
belong
Where the eagles cry on a mountain high”
He opened a car door.
“Get in.”
Spike ducked through the door
and immediately swung a punch. Angel caught the fist that tried to connect with
the side of his head.
Spike took another breath and recited
his mantra. Calm. Calm. Another breath
“Angel…”
He struggled to form a question
and then he looked around, taking in the long sprawl of leather, soft music, a
bottle of champagne on ice and two glasses fizzing in front of him.
He changed his original question
to something more immediate.
“Where am I?”
“In the back of a stretch limo.
I thought of a motorbike, but to tell the truth? I was afraid you might run.”
Maybe he was still afraid. His
fingers were untying Spike’s laces and pulling off his boots, as if ensuring he
that wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“Right... A limo. Why?”
“Because I love you.”
Spike knew there was no such
thing as love. Unless two people believed in it. And then it could become as
real and strong as faith could make it, moving mountains, casting out devils
and healing wounds.
The boots were removed and he
swung Spike’s legs up on to the soft, white leather of the seat. Angel rubbed
the arch of his foot, before pulling him so that he slithered forward until his
legs were straddled around Angel’s waist and they were sitting face-to-face,
chest-to-chest, groin-to-groin. Angel was toying with the buttons of his shirt,
a half smile on his lips.
“Ok.” His Sire had carried him
from the club and removed his boots. Now he was… Spike wasn’t quite sure, but
it felt a little like flirting. Angel was flirting with him. The pressure had
obviously gotten too much for him and he was going insane. Best speak slowly
and carefully.
“Why the scene back there? Why
did you nearly carry me out of that club?”
Angel made a little ‘please
don’t be cross with me face’.
“Cus I love you.” He gave a
faux, little boy glance from beneath his eyelashes, a small smile playing
tentatively around his mouth. "And I want everyone to know."
“You… I…”
Spike couldn’t believe this was
his broody git of a sire. Words refused to form and he ended up just staring,
before curling up and burying his face in Angel’s shoulder. His body was
shuddering and for a second Angel was worried that he’d taken it all too far.
He pulled Spike back so that he could gaze at his face. Then realised that his
eyes were bright with mirth and his body was shaking with laughter. Angel
grinned in relief and pulled him close, nestling his cheek against spiky blonde
hair that he’d only ever seen on his monitor. It felt good, but it smelt of gel
and human hands, which masked its natural fragrance. He wanted to cascade water
over it, wash away all scents and nuzzle into clean soft hair.
“Never in a million years did I
ever think… and bleeding hell! And Christ, I can’t ever show my face in that
club again!”
“Yeah. That was sort of the idea
too. So, good plan eh?”
Angel looked smug and Spike
gazed at him in outrage.
“I’m bloody ruined! And Christ,
imagine if you put me over my shoulder… My rep… my bleedin’ street cred! You
complete git, Angel!”
“Yeah. Sorry.” To do him credit
he tried to pull a sorry face as he twisted a lock of blonde hair through his
fingers.
“You realise I’m going to make
you pay for that”
“I’m counting on it.”
The wicked smile was back. Angel
was flirting with him. Again. This was all too much for one small vampire to
comprehend. So for a few minutes he decided not to even try. Instead he laid
quietly, his head cradled against Angel’s chest, and all pretence of not loving
his Angel fell away.