Chapter 10
Returning Life
It
was like a camera bulb, illuminating the darkness for a fraction of a second.
Flash!
Eyes
blink in response. Vision slowly returns.
Red
blood dripping down pristine walls.
Flash!
Eyes
blink.
Open
to darkness.
Angel awoke from yet another nightmare feeling
more weary than when he’d laid his head down.
He rubbed the side of his head and moved
his leaden body to the shower. Another long, hard day awaited him. Water streamed
down his face as he turned it towards the warmth. Really they expected too
much of him. Yet it was his choice to throw himself back into work, so he
could hardly complain if he felt sometimes as if he was drowning. He turned
under the water, letting it pummel his back. He thought they might have noticed.
Spike would have, he’d have slapped them over the head, called them idiots
and told them ‘look, not waving, but drowning’. Angel missed him constantly.
Sometimes he got so tired of being grown-up
and mature. They looked to him as children to an adult. He realised he was
being unfair, but here he was, trying to fix things for Spike and fix things
for his humans. He’d been through something harrowing as well, and he didn’t
see anyone rushing around trying to fix him. As usual, any urge towards self-pity
transformed into guilt and he merely redoubled his efforts and sank further
into his work.
But his distress had not gone unnoticed.
Unable to burden Spike with anything more they tried to help in their own
way. Wesley kept him busy with work and tried to make it clear how much they
valued his strength, his wisdom, his extensive knowledge. Giles thought it
important to prove that they still trusted and esteemed him, and asked him
to step back into slayer training. The agency found that it was unable to
run for more than a few hours without his presence being required. Without
words they tried to show that he had been missed and that he was needed.
He wasn’t Spike though. Spike would see
a situation through by throwing himself into action and crowding out intrusive
thoughts with violence and adrenalin. Angel, however, needed time to think,
to internalise all that had happened, process it until he once again found
his balance. All their efforts to keep him busy were merely making him tired
and keeping him permanently off balance. He was sleeping badly and felt weary.
Buffy’s visit hadn’t exactly helped matters.
For the life of him, he blamed her for nothing and pitied her for the ordeal
she’d been through. And the baby was so obviously innocent… He’d done his
best, he’d smiled at the baby, he’d welcomed Buffy, apologised and sympathised.
Only one comment had slipped past him. Irresponsible. He’d told her she’d
been irresponsible.
Her eyes had hardened and with a tight
smile she’d told him that jealousy wasn’t his colour. He’d turned away because
the only words he had for her were bitter and hurtful. Jealous! Was he jealous?
He hardly knew. Maybe a little envious of everything that Spike was being
offered. On the other hand he would rather she sent him to hell again than ever
suffer a loss like Connor. He understood Spike’s reluctance to bind himself
emotionally to such a fragile being.
They’d made up again, both apologised but
neither actually gave ground to the other. Buffy announced her attention of
going to
“He hates me?” She’d asked and her eyes
had grown luminous. This was so far from her intention she could hardly comprehend
it.
“He’s not himself. I’ll call you, we will
work this out. I promise.”
She’d nodded and they had hugged, parting
on something like good terms.
oooo
Spike’s problems lay in another direction
altogether. He was bored, which meant he couldn’t escape thoughts that paraded
in a wearisome, circular motion, a continuous loop that would keep him awake,
leaving him drained and irritable, whilst resolving nothing.
He was thankful when Giles arranged for
him to begin training with the English slayers, his contact being an old council
member who escaped the explosion and had recently been drawn back into the
fold. He looked on the vampire with suspicion and outright hostility. Not
that it bothered Spike. It gave him someone to take out his permanently pissy
mood on. The slayers were ok, he remembered some of them from the battle.
He still had the visions which he’d email
or fax through. Sometimes during the night he and Angel would chat, hungrily
absorbing jerky images on the screen. It all worked ok, considering. He missed
nothing about his old life not the weather, not the gang, not his s… nothing,
so he couldn’t say why he felt like a personal rain cloud was hanging over
his head.
Oh sod it.
He missed it all. He was lonely like he’d
rarely been in his whole long life. It’s what he had wanted, loneliness and
anonymity but he gradually realised it didn’t suit his temperament. He wasn’t
cut out to be alone. And alone for him was anywhere without Angel. He grew
low and lethargic. Now that the fighting was over there was no longer any
need to even pretend he was strong. He remembered telling Angel of his fear
that he might one day wake up too tired to even try. That day was crowding
in on him. Life no longer held anything much of interest.
Then one night, patrolling over with, the
tinkle of jewellery from the theatre crowds had long receded and late night
clubbers were drifting homeward, he was walking through the streets deep in
thought, when someone hailed him, talking to him as if he were an old friend.
He cast his mind back and realised it was a ghost from his human days.
“Will? Why didn’t you tell us you were back?
Hell, you’re looking good. Pale. But good.”
“Uh. Yeah. Great to see you too. Only returned
recently and yer know. Busy.”
“Bumped into Mick, he said you went to
“Yeah, went. Back now.”
“Tell you the truth, mate, we never expected
to see you again – so you still have those uh… fit things then?”
“Fits? Oh… yeah, but saw someone in
“Really? Fantastic news! Hey, you’ll have
to come out with us tomorrow night. Normal Friday night jollies. Nothing changes,
eh?”
“Well, I dunno…”
“Come on! We’ll surprise the gang, it’ll
be great. Bar Mondo, nine-ish. No, make it later, I won’t tell them you’re
back and then you can make your dramatic entrance.”
“I’ll think about it, yeah?”
“You don’t seem keen, what’s up? Christ,
you haven’t finally got yerself hitched, have you? Quiet nights at home with
your bunny?”
Spike almost flinched but responded in kind.
“Nah, not exactly.”
“I sense a story. Go on, Will, give me the
goss. You know how I adore being first with it.”
Spike looked at him and thought why the
hell not. He had no one else to talk.
“There was someone. Sort of. But he had
a choice and he didn’t choose me.”
“What? Is the man insane! Who is he? Do
you want me to gather a team and duff him up?”
Spike started to laugh and it felt like
a weight lifting from him.
“You do that, mate. A bunch of
“So… a tough guy, eh? Tell me all.”
“Nothing to tell. Went to see him ‘bout
my illness, he fixed me up…”
“You fell for your bleedin’ doctor! A rich,
tough guy. Hell, Will, we need to get you back out on the scene.”
“You know, maybe I will see you tomorrow.
About time I had some fun. All this flaming angst and pain and death…”
“That’s the attitude. We’ll have a damned
good night, I promise you.”
“Yeah, ok. Catch you tomorrow.”
It felt good to have something to distract
him. A night out with his old mates... well not exactly his old mates.
Completely fake, of course and really it was more like watching characters
in a play than meeting real people. He cast his mind back through false memories,
fondly remembering them, as he would episodes from his favourite soap. He
smiled. They’d had some good times.
Then he began to worry. He needed to play
the part of ‘Will’ and try to fool those young, carefree men into thinking
that he was part of their world. What did they have in common? They worked
9 to 5, went out at weekends, drank, cruised, danced, staggered home, off
their faces and out of their heads… He’d almost talked himself out of it and
then… sod it. He didn’t have much to lose. Go along take the piss out of them
all and come home again.
The next day he called in a bloke to cut
his hair in a move away from his slicked back style. He set up the webcam
so that he could see himself. Hmmm. Looked ok. He drew his fingers through
it and watched as it peaked into spikes. He quickly ruffled them out and instead
it fell into softly tousled curls. No, definitely not him. He spiked it again
and nodded in satisfaction, could do with some new togs though.
He called a couple of the more stylish girls,
prepared to beg them, maybe even pay them to go shopping for him. Instead
they leapt at the chance and with a shudder of apprehension he realised that
they regarded him in the light of a makeover case. Yet without necrotempered
cars, he was buggered until nightfall.
Six slayers! Six frigging slayers fussed
over him. He’d only called two of them. He supposed the entertainment value
was too tempting.
“Ok. Stop. Stop!”
“It’s fine. With your eyes, you can take
a little eyeliner.”
“I’ve done punk and I’m not planning doing
goth. This ain’t an Anne sodding Rice vampire, you know.”
“You’re going clubbing, aren’t you? People
won’t even notice a touch of makeup.”
“If you’re wearing the leather trousers,
leave the leather coat at home, alright? Wearing the whole cow ain’t in fashion.”
“Come on, put your chin up a bit, Spike.
Just a touch of natural pink on the lips, otherwise you tend to look pale…”
Spike gave her a scathing look.
“Well yeah, alright. But we’re going for
the warm, human look. Not scary creature of the night.”
“Thanks for your help and getting the clothes
and all, but sod off now, yeah? If you want to play, go buy a Ken.”
“But Spike, you’re so much more fun to dress…”
He went into game face and harried them
out the door.
Left by himself he became thoughtful. He
went to the computer and logged on.
“Hey. Peaches? You busy?”
“Yeah. Done nothing but sit in this chair
for hours and I’ve got piles”
Spike frowned. Not the sort of thing he’d
ever heard vampires being afflicted with before. And then the next part of
the message came through.
“of paperwork to get through.”
The ponce must have accidentally hit ‘enter’
halfway though the message.
“I’m going out tonight with some old friends.
Can you see me? Do I look ok?”
Angel stared intensely at the screen and
then his fingers flew over the keyboard.
“Who are you seeing? You are NOT going out
looking like that!”
“Hey! You’re not my father and I’m not some
underage girl.”
“But you look good. Why are you looking
so good?”
“Superior genes.”
“Who are you seeing? What friends?”
“From when I was human.”
“Girls?”
“Blokes.”
“William was gay. I’m sure I remember you
telling me that Will was gay.”
“Yeah.”
“You’ve dressed up like that for your gay
friends?”
“It’s the way they are, you know, well groomed.
Just trying to give myself a chance of fitting in.”
“Don’t go.”
“I’m lonely, Peaches.”
Angel’s brown eyes gazed steadily into the
camera and then dropped to the keyboard.
“Go then. Have a good time.”
“Cheers.”
“Thanks for letting me know first.”
“I’m not a complete goit.”
“?”
Spike grinned at him.
“Talk later.”
“I’ll be waiting.”
Spike logged off, feeling slightly better,
but cross with himself that he should.
Angel was thoughtful. New life and a new
look. New clothes, new hair, new face. The better part of himself was quietly
satisfied that Spike was putting himself in the position of being emotionally
available. Another part of him was screaming, why the hell did he have to
make himself emotionally available to a gang of gay men?
oooo
He turned up at about 9.30.
“Will? William! When the hell did you get
back?”
Suddenly he was surrounded by people who
had once been friends to his human self. He found himself being welcomed back
with extravagant hugs and over the top kisses. They were smiling and laughing
in delight. After the pain and the angst and the weight of the world, it was
like falling into a soft, candied dream. Nothing here but sugar and froth.
There could be worst ways of spending the next few years. It was the ultimate
in shallow, thoughtless and undemanding. He grinned back at them and let them
embrace him and enfold him in the warmth of friendship and laughter.
A green-eyed man threw himself into Spike’s
lap and wrapped warm, human arms around him, almost causing Spike to drop
the bottle he’d been handed.
“Oy! Someone get the limpet of me!”
“What’s the matter? Aren’t you pleased to
see me again, Babe?”
“Will’s out of the game at the mo. Broken-hearted,
ain’t yer?”
The man looked up at him in concern and
stroked a hand down his neck.
“I could help out with that. If you can’t
be with the one you want then want the one you’re with.”
“What the hell are you on, Deej?” Spike
asked the hyper young man.
“At the moment? You, Gorgeous.”
“Shame on you, Will. You set that one up
for him and God knows he needs no encouragement.”
“First one’s for free. He’ll have to work
for the others.” Spike grinned back.
Someone touched his hair.
“Love the new look, Spikey.”
His face momentarily went blank. The last
one to call him that had been Angelus. He brought the bottle to his mouth
and finished it off it in a series of long gulps. A few more of them and they
could call him what the hell they liked. They moved on to a dance club and
he knocked back whatever was offered. This was the point, this was the aim.
Lose himself and forget it all. Enjoy the warmth, the human hands that tugged
at him and lips that lingered on his skin. Affection that meant nothing and
cost nothing.
The music was hardcore dance, it thrummed through the club, beat into the soles of his feet, making it impossible to stand still. Strong male arms pulled him on to the floor and he lost himself to the noise and the rhythm and the heat. People called to him, let hands trail across him as they passed, caught his eye and tried to hold it with their own. He drifted through it all, the consummate predator that ensnares without even trying. He loved the heat and the noise, the adrenalin and the hype. Angel would truly hate this.
He smiled to himself, one day he’d bring
him here.
Mick grabbed his arm.
“C’mon. Let’s grab another drink.”
Spike nodded.
“What’s with all the touching out there.
Don’t remember people being that touchy-feely.” He asked in some amusement.
“Bloody hell, Will. We thought you’d popped
your bleedin’ clogs. Everyone just wants to touch, they can’t believe you’re
back. Plus, you look fit, mate. If you weren’t my best friend I’d be chasing
you myself. Even that creep Tone, can’t take his eyes off you. Bloody goit.
Dropping you like that when he found out you was ill.”
“It wasn’t a pretty sight.” Spike remembered.
“Blackouts, bloodshot eyes, retching and vomiting.”
“Well no change there, that’s most of us every Saturday morning. Uh oh. Don’t look now but he’s coming across. Damned cheek.
Don’t you dare go rebounding back to him.”
Spike disobeyed the first part of these
instructions and looked anyway. The man was tall, broad, dark-haired, brown
eyed and altogether a watery, pale imitation of Angel.
“I think I can promise you that.” Spike
agreed.
Now that he’d tasted the real thing, imitation
just wasn’t going to cut it.
oooo
Angel was still working when he noticed
Spike login.
“You there A?”
“Hey. Good night?”
“Uh huh. Missed you.”
“Good.”
“Luv u so much.”
“Good. Are you drunk?”
“There’s so much I wanna do with you.”
“You’re dr Like what?”
Angel looked at the small picture of Spike
and…
“Who is that man draped across you?”
“Don’t worry. It’s just Deej. He thinks
you’re gorgeous too.”
“Spike. Tell him to GET OFF NOW.”
Deej unwrapped himself with a huff and moved
out of sight.
“NOW TELL ME WHAT IS GOING ON?”
“They wanted to party. Celebrate my return.”
“THEY? WHO THEY?”
“Stop shouting, you’re making my head hurt.”
“Spike. The words are printed so I can’t
be FRIGGING SHOUTING!”
“Yeah you are. The letters are glaring at
me. Uh oh. Now they’ve started dancing around the screen. Weird.”
“Talk to me Spike. Why is that man with
you?”
“That’s Deej.”
Spike frowned. The old sire was a bit slow
tonight. He was pretty certain that he’d said this once. Although he wasn’t
one hundred percent sure.
“Concentrate Spike. Why. Is. That
He tried to concentrate but gathering that
much sobriety was making him feel nauseous.
“Gotta go - gonna puke.”
That was the last Angel heard from him for
the night. He went to bed, torn between irritation and laughter. Life with
Spike was never boring, even when he was a couple of thousand miles away.
Any inclination to laughter was quickly chased away. Nightmares came and his
sleep was once more troubled and dogged by shadowy impressions that left him
feeling chilled.
oooo
Mid-afternoon and an email appeared.
Subject:
Sorry
Yeah.
Subject sorta sez it all. But not what you thought. Feel like I’ve been trying
to swim in waters too deep for me, sharks and the like tearing holes into me.
Wanted to remember what it was like being human, splashing in the shallows,
playing with the tiddlers, having fun, playing make believe. Nothing but a game
of make-believe, Peaches. I know what’s real. x
Subject:
Re Sorry
You
hardly know what you’re doing do you? Sigh. Don’t get hurt. And remember
they’re real people. Don’t hurt them. A
Subject:
Re Re Sorry
You
plead on behalf of everyone but yourself. Shouldn’t you ask me not to hurt you?
Subject
Re Re Re Sorry
Got
to trust someone to do what’s right for me and tag you’re it. Do I need to ask?
A
Subject:
Really Sorry
Shouldn’t
have to, but sometimes I’m such a bloody idiot and I’m so afraid I’m gonna cock
it up. Don’t let me. Don’t ever stop loving me will you? Spike x
This was the first conversation that had
felt natural and right since they’d parted, for a second it felt almost as
though they were lightly touching and that he could hear Spike’s gruff voice.
It soothed him and made him despondent because in that second he had a taste
of what life could be, if Spike were with him.
Subject:
Never
A.
x
Another week passed. Spike had two more
visions, the agency had four new cases, a new batch of slayers joined the
He decided it was the demon filling his
dreams with this hopelessness that lingered in his mouth like ashes. Angel
felt like he hadn’t slept properly since Spike left. All his dreams were dark
and haunted and he would awake feeling troubled and heavy-eyed.
But there was no time to mull over what
was happening,. Always busy, always moving. Crazy days and sleepless night and
Spike a million miles away, living his pretend life in some cold city. They
were both pretending. Spike was make-believing he was someone called Will,
living with false memories and fluff. Then there was Angel himself. Pretending
he wasn’t flying apart at the seams.
His only comfort were his chats with Spike,
looking at his blurred features, watching as he would occasionally touch the
screen, causing Angel to shiver to the thought that he was trying reach through
the glass of the monitor to stroke his face. He’d close his eyes and imagine
he could feel those cool fingertips against his jaw, wishing he could make
out the expression in those bright blue eyes.
“So are you out tonight? With your friends?”
“Yeah. But I’ll be back and talk to you
as usual. Not planning on getting shit-faced this time.”
“Go. Have fun. It’s good for you.”
“Don’t like to think of you by yourself…”
“Going to Wes and Fred’s.”
“Chinese food and Californian wine. I remember
it well. Could never get that git Wes to remember that I preferred beer.”
“I thought your tastes had changed… what’s
the name of that wine bar you go to?”
“Mondo. How did you know that. Hey! Have you got someone stalking me? You have haven’t you? Isn’t that just like you! There’d better not be photos, you know how things like that taken out of context can look incriminating, however innocent they really are.
You’re not really having me followed are
you?”
“Have fun tonight, Spike. You should go
get ready now – we’ll talk later.”
“Oy! Don’t you dare log off.”
“GBye.”
Leaving Spike swearing to himself and dodging
sunbeams as he peered out a window, trying to spot his stalker.
oooo
Yet another frigging sleepless night. Angelus
an ever present entity, growling useless threats and then the dark foreboding
of indeterminate nightmares. It was exhausting him. To top it all Spike hadn’t
logged in. Angel had almost fallen asleep at the machine waiting for him and
now he was so worried that he was seriously thinking of setting up a household
of spies just to tail his childe and ensure that he was safe.
Thank god. There was message in his private
inbox.
Subject:
I get it now
Hey,
sorry for not catching you earlier, had a bit of a night. End of the night and
I’d just left everyone and was walking home. You know how good it feels to walk
at night, when there’s no one around and the only traffic is the black cabs.
You feel like you own the whole city. Anyway, heard a noise, went back and
found a couple of creeps picking on little Deej.
Don’t
know if I’ve described any of this lot to you but Deej is the youngest, the
baby and he plays on it. Attention seeking and ott and not a nasty bone in
him. So he’s there against the wall, trying to be all brave and manly, whilst
they’re calling him names and pushing him around until he falls. Then one
of them is lighting a cig and decides it’d be a good game to throw lighted
matches at the little boy. I was so frigging furious! I raced across and just
wanted to tear them apart. Pulled them away and noticed one of those damned
matches had caught. Ripped the jacket from one of the bloke’s and smothered
the flame.
The
pissing cowards! Set fire to him and then ran away. I wanted to catch up with
them and take them to pieces. Slowly.
I
didn’t. I helped Deej up, brought him home and sat with him all night. Do you
know why I didn’t chase them down? Bet you think it’s cus I knew you would
think it was wrong? Uh uh. Yeah, could have caught up with them, bullied them,
terrified them, roughed them up cus they’re weaker than me. But I think I get a
bit of what you want me to learn. So I start by beating up a couple of creeps
and maybe that’s ok but where do I draw the line? If I use the language and the
tactics of the wicked, how am I different from them? I think that with every
bad action you lose a piece of your soul. Mine was too hard won to cast it away
so lightly.
It’s
about self worth innit? I feel in my gut what I did was right and it makes
me feel stronger. Makes me feel as though I’m worth something. So we act with
morality because we have to care for ourselves as well as care for others.
Also, when I ripped the jacket off one of the blokes I got his wallet, name
address the lot. Hand that over to the police and let the frigging law terrify
the crap out of them instead. Are you pleased with me Peaches?
Angel finished the message and something
like hope briefly flared in his heart. He could almost see the wound heal
over. One less scar. For both of them.
Subject:
Re I get it now
So
proud of you childe. Now tell me why one turncoat vampire can make a difference
in this world?
Spike wasn’t logged in, so Angel heated
his blood and started his day. First thing. Sort out the old slayers so that
they could begin training the new ones and take one of the burdens off his
hands. Delegate three of the new cases to Wes, Fred and Gunn respectively.
Spend an hour mulling over the last nine months or so, surely he could find
an hour a day to start piecing back together his life and making sense of
it all again. A small cloud lifted and he chugged back his blood. Hell, maybe
he’d even sleep tonight.
oooo
Spike woke to his message and grinned. He
thought about Angel’s question as he pottered around making his breakfast,
Cocoa Pops and blood. He’d tried to be healthier but the muesli had made him
choke and Honey Nut Loops were like sugar coated cardboard. Also, they didn’t
make that satisfying crackling sound when the blood was poured over, so he’d
changed back to his Cocoa Pops.
Subject:
Why…
Cus
Angelus was lying. There’s no such thing as predestination, which means even an
insignificant turncoat vampire can affect things sometimes. And a stunning,
blonde haired, dynamo of a vampire can probably send the world arse over tit.
I’m on a roll – any more?
Subject:
So…
Do
you want to meet your son?
Subject:
Not yet
x
Spike’s messenger bleeped at him.
“Ok. I won’t push. How’s the boy with the
weird name?”
“Doesn’t talk about it. When you get attacked
like that, I suppose you go into shock for a while.”
“Physically and mentally, I guess.”
“The physical stuff is nothing. Bit of pain
and healed again.”
“But psychologically?”
“I suppose it goes round and round in the
noggin. Why anyone would do stuff like that to you? Did you deserve it somehow?”
Something clicked inside Angel and he answered
cautiously.
“No one deserves that sort of treatment.”
“And the person who does it, what do they
feel for the victim? Contempt? Hate? Else how could they do it?”
“They think only of themselves. They are
the centre of the world and it should bend to their will. Don’t let him blame
himself.”
“He doesn’t. He s just gets a bit lost when
he thinks about it. So he doesn’t talk about it and doesn’t think.”
“He retreats and pretends it never happened?
It’s a knee-jerk reaction but in the long term it’s not healthy, Spike. He
needs to internalise it and grow from it.”
"Peaches? Its ok. He’s not trying to
lose himself anymore. He knows that the life and the people here are as real
and desperate as anywhere else. He’s facing what happened to him and he’s
growing stronger from it. He’s found certainty in why he’s here and why he
fights. It’s in the core of his being and can never be taken away. He’s discovered
that even at his weakest moment he can reject everything to do what’s right.
It gives a man self belief.”
“I’m glad. His strength and resilience amazes
me. But will he ever find it in himself to completely love an innocent defenceless
being?
“It nearly killed me to draw that stake
on you. To have two people to care for… I’m not saying never. Just small steps,
yeah?”
“Baby steps if that what its takes.”
“By the way Deej is fine. Looking forward
to his day in court, planning what shoes to wear with what clothes, trying
out his most pathetic expressions to win around the judge. He’s sitting here
watching Judge Judy, at the moment. Tough as old boots.”
“Deej or Judge Judy?”
“Both. Anyway, time to take him home and
then meet with the slayers. Later.”
oooo
This was becoming monotonous. He’d only
been in bed an hour and already another frigging nightmare. Always the same.
Darkness, despair, need. Flash. Blood. Flash. Dark. It was driving him nuts.
All he asked was a few hours sleep and a break from his demon that screamed
for release. He punched and shook his pillow back to feathery softness and
settled down again.
He awoke with a blink after another period
of flimsy and insubstantial rest. His eyes felt tired and gritty, his throat
was dry, and restless images followed him into his waking hours. It was still
dark. Bleary eyed he made his way to the bathroom to splash his face with
cold water in an attempt to feel refreshed.
He was feeling… haunted. His dreams had
been dark and disturbing but nebulous. Nothing he could put his finger on,
no screaming victims or heart wrenching terror, just an overweening sensation
of dread. And horror. And decay. It almost made his skin crawl.
He blinked the water out of his eyes and
turned off the faucet, reaching blindly for a towel.
And then he felt it.
A chill that feathered icy fingers up and
down his spine, goosebumps rising to the touch. He pulled the towel from his
eyes. It seemed to have grown darker and even his vampiric sight couldn’t
pierce the cloak of blackness. He took a sharp breath, he recognised this.
He should do, he’d seen it every night for the past three weeks.
His nightmare. Coming to life.
He closed his eyes in denial, but the air
itself was becoming heavy with the sickening stench of putrefying flesh. He
could hear distant cries from people he’d never met and yet still they accused
him. Fingers pointed at him. Identified him. They were reaching towards him.
Seeking hands were clawed in desperation and despair.
Any minute. Any second, he would open his
eyes to gleaming, pristine porcelain and the only scent would be the familiar
lemon tang. He defied his nightmare and opened his eyes wide. Nothing but
familiar darkness. Until…
A flash of brilliant white.
It seared his eyes. His retinas burned with an after image, which became a reality of gleaming, tiled walls, spattered with gore and running red with blood. He backed away, reached behind and grasped the handle of the bathroom door, welcoming the tangible solidity. It held fast against him. He closed his eyes once more, willing everything back to normal. Through the comforting darkness of his shuttered eyes, the smell of decay and the mouldering, musty scent of those long dead gradually permeated his senses.
When next he opened them the room was once
more in blackness.
Another flash of blazing light that illuminated
the room to blindness and left sparks before his eyes. The glare fading to
words splashed in blood across pristine tiles:
“Release me!”
The message dripped before him, hot and
red with yearning.
Eyes shut tight and only the silence for
company.
He opened them again. The bathroom was clean,
sparkling white with a faint smell of lemons. He tried the handle and this
time it swung easily to his touch. He stood silently on the threshold, looking
into his room. A picture of normality; a rumpled bed, a half-read book, an
empty whiskey glass by the bedside.
Yet there was something lingering. He could
sense it. The very stillness was unnatural.
Than he heard it.
A heartbeat.
A rasping breath.
Footsteps, moving slowly towards him, creaking
the floorboards. A foot shaped indentation in the carpet pile. It lifted and
then another depression, closer to him. Moving invisibly and inexorably towards
him.
He was starting to feel tired, angry and
very, very pissed off.
“You think these games frighten me? You
know how long I’ve been playing them? This a walk in the park compared to
the ones I used to play.”
The footsteps were coming closer but he
stood his ground.
“Before you take another step make damn
sure you want to play with me.” He snarled at his invisible opponent.
He felt the thing dive at him. A mouth opening
larger and larger. The stench of its breath, like every grave he’d ever known.
Grazing teeth that only passed through him and its body hitting like a blast
of arctic air, rippling through him with a million icy shards and stealing
the Californian heat from his body.
Then it was over. His room was empty. It
had gone and it was as though he’d imagined the whole scene. He shook his
head and miniature icy spears flew from his hair, into his deeply piled carpet.
He reached for the phone and pressed the
digits, waiting impatiently for the pickup.
“
“Angel? Is that you?”
“Yeah. Sorry, it’s me. I need your help.
He’s haunting my dreams. Demanding release and now he’s managed to physically
manifest himself in this world.”
“Really? This is bad. I don’t know what
to say. I’ve never heard anything like it. But there again your situation
is unique.”
“You’ve done it before. You have to do it
again.”
“Put Angelus back in his cage? I don’t know…”
“Angelus? Why are you talking about Angelus?”
“Oookay. Angel, I know you’re upset about
something. Now I want you to slowly tell me what’s happening.”
“I am being haunted. He wants release and….”
“Angel. Listen. This is important. Who wants
to be released?”
“That man whose life I returned.”
“The sorcerer of Chi’Lustra?”
“Yeah. That’s what I keep saying.
“I can’t.”
“You can’t?” Angel asked, his voice was
deathly.
“The last lot of magic was heavy stuff.
I’m burnt out, Angel. I’m gonna need weeks… how long have we got?”
“At a guess? Two to three hours. This last
manifestation was his final attempt to reach me.”
“But… why you?”
“Who else? I’m the one who killed him last
time. Guess that gives us a special bond.” Sarcasm was beginning to edge his
voice.
“Oh. You’re going to have to do the spell.”
“It took you three frigging weeks to complete
the spell last time!”
“Look, you can do it. I spent three weeks
because I had to make the spell from nothing. I had to seek out beings who
would agree to answer when called. Make the wording acceptable. Plead for
the co-operation of a hundred gods from a hundred other worlds. I’ve set up
the spell. All you have to do is cast it.”
“What do I have to do? The only way I know
to reach him is through
“You still have the disk thingy that you
used last time? We can utilise that. It’s ok, you don’t need human blood to
realign it. Your blood will do. So listen up…”
“
“Tell Spike…”
Angel cleared his throat and blinked.
“I’ll email you. If I don’t return, Forward
it to Spike.”
oooo
Snow falling, wind howling, ice creaking,
falls frozen. A man sitting, frozen eyes, frosted lips, as though all of winter
is drawn towards him, is embodied in him. The falling snow, the creaking ice,
the wind all whisper the same refrain, echoing the words barely breathed passed
the man's own lips, haunting the dreams of unwary travellers. And those that
stumbled free from the frozen land would whisper to those who would hear,
"Please set me free..."
A stranger appeared in the heart of the
land of snow and ice and saw the man and heard his words and laid cold hand
upon frozen brow.
"I will set you free, old man."
Thus the pledge was spoken. The stranger
turned and with a gesture, slashed a hole in the fabric of the world. He stepped
through it and all was void, an empty shell of a dimension, used up and abandoned
five hundred years before. He threw up his arms in supplication and called
upon the powerful to fulfil their promise, to answer the cry of a dying world.
They heard his words and bent themselves to his will. Then opening around
him, with the blinding light of a supernova, there appeared one hundred doors
and through these doors flowed the pure energy of life, bursting forth from
a hundred beautiful, flourishing worlds. It flared through the ruined dimension,
towards the small rift where an old man sat, begging for freedom.
The shield he’d maintained for five hundred
years fell from the roof of the world and the darkness hovered on the lip
of indecision. It chose the supernova of energy beaming through the gap in
the world, tumbling through the rift towards the source of the power. The
stranger lowered head and arms. At his command one hundred doors snapped shut,
sealing their life away. He stepped back through the rift and with a gesture,
healed the tear in the world. He murmurs his thanks and drops to his knees.
The barrier that shielded and protected
the world has gone, the gathering darkness has flown and moonlight sifts down
through balmy air.
A cold hand laid gently upon warm brow and
words were spoken as the pledge was fulfilled.
“I release you.”
A splintered smile and tears in rheumy eyes.
The man spoke fragile words that cracked with long disuse.
“I am old and thought never to see my world
in motion again. The shifting clouds or a glimpse of starry night.” The old
man’s face ached with the effort of smiling. “Do you hear people singing?
A lilting voice blending with the darkness, whispering, singing its lullaby?”
Angel listened carefully, but heard nothing.
“It is exhorting sleep, oh baby sleep. Let
bright eyes close and body rest and never stir again. So tempting, so tired.
Life so hard and me so weary.”
He clenched the cold hand to his chest.
“I’ve lived so long and through the years
I’ve called for them to take me. I remembered the people long since departed
and I called for Mother and I called for my love, but it's all gone now, slipped
away and gone.”
His eyes were already staring into some
other world. He took the cold hand to his lips and kissed it.
“I am leaving life and I am glad. For the
love of my world and for the love of my people, I lived too long and cared
too much. Always striving, reaching for stars and reaching too far. My story
is ending. I am pleased to share the end with you. My killer. My saviour.
Two times over. My thanks are endless. But I must leave. My Mother calls and
my dearest love is waiting for me. See how she shines! She opens welcoming
arms to me as I embrace her.”
His voice drifted away.
Angel gently shut his eyes.
oooo
Spike sensed the absence as soon as Angel
disappeared from the world. Their blood bond had slipped and failed but the
presence of his Sire stayed with him. Until now. It was late evening in
Wesley. For some reason, Wesley was his
first thought. The idiot had sent him on some dangerous job, never to return.
He called and let it ring out. Then called again. He finally heard the cultured
English tones, blurred and made almost unintelligible by yawns and mumbled
sleepy tones. Didn’t matter, Spike wasn’t interested in exchanging greetings.
“What have you done to Angel?”
“Uh… Spike? Is that you? Do you realise
what…”
“Wesley. Where the fuck is Angel?”
Wesley gathered his cold dignity in the
face of unexpected hostility.
“As far as I know, Angel is in bed sleeping.”
“You ain’t sent him on any missions then?”
“No, I haven’t. Frankly? I’m tired, I’m
doing my best to be civil to you…”
“Check his bed. Check the house. Find out
where he is.”
He rang off and phoned the next person on
his hit list. The frigging witch.
“Spike?”
“You’re not in bed fast asleep then Red?
Why’s that?”
“Well… Angel rang…”
“Yeah, how is he?”
“Uh huh. He’s… fine. Yes, he’s fine.”
“Now the next question is the important
one. Where the hell is he?”
“Spike? Calm down. He didn’t want you to
know. He was afraid you’d worry…”
“Worry! I’m climbing the sodding walls here!
Tell me. Where. Has. He. Gone.”
“If you promise not to go all irritable
and grrr... Ok. Ok. I’m telling. Sheesh you don’t have to use words like that,
Mister.”
Spike took a huge breath to help contain
the threatened explosion.
“I’m very calm. I’m not grrr. Would you
please, pretty please with a cherry on top, tell me where he is?”
“Ok. He’s gone back to Chi’Lustra. The sorcerer
who holds it together is fading and I’m too burnt out to attempt the spell,
so Angel said that he’d go and I taught him the spell, I’m nearly certain
it’ll work…”
“How long will he be gone?”
“It shouldn’t take more than minutes.”
“
“Yes. I know.”
“Can you…?”
“No. Sorry. All out of juice.”
“Can I…?”
“Do you have anything that will open portals?
Or have you tried to do it before?”
“Right. So we just wait then?”
“Sorry.”
“Can’t believe he left without…” Spike trailed
off.
“He left a message for you.” She admitted.
“What did he say?”
“It’s an email. I haven’t looked. I think
it was personal, in case he never… you know.”
“Send it to me.”
“Spike. Give him time.”
“Send it to me. I need to know what he could
possibly say to make this all seem ok.”
“He’ll be back.”
Spike didn’t answer.
She sighed.
“It’s with you now.”
“Thank you.”
He hung up and opened his most recent mail.
Subject:
For Spike
I
love you. If I had a choice then it would be you, I choose you. One day with
you was worth the eternity of hell without you. I hope you feel the same. My
precious one. My beloved. My Spike.
Yours
forever, Angel. x
oooo
He lifted the body. It weighed no more than
a wisp. He took it to a high place and raised a cairn around it, labouring
through the night. If this world had saints, then here rested one of them,
existing for all those years in such loneliness and sorrow. He removed a knife,
which in another time had caused blood to flow onto this ravaged world. It
seemed like balance to use it now to carve words of love into stone, Yin and
Yang, destruction and conservation. The knife. The world. Destroyed and conserved.
Completion of a cycle. He laboriously chipped away into the stone.
Here Lies the Guardian of Chi’Lustra
Remember Him Well, For the Life That He
Gave You
And the Love He Held For You
The wind dropped and the world held itself
in abasement, respecting the passing of one who maintained his lonely vigil
when hope and belief had passed and all he had left was his love. The first
gleam of dawn fell upon his tomb. The barrier that had shut out the darkness
had also shut out light, but now, for the first time in half a millennium
the sun was rising again.
Angel held up a hand to it in wonder, he
splayed his fingers and let it streak across his face. Not just some necrotempered
substitute, but the real thing. It was clear and bright and warm. It formed
rainbows in water, and refracted off the snow in a way that made the earth
glow with its own light. Angel was entranced.
All things on the world felt the ethereal
brush of rebirth. A woman in a light summer dress threw up her arm, her countenance
lit from within by the gladness in her heart. A rabbit twitched its nose to
the spring air, as pollen and spore filled its sensitive nostrils. The substance
of life danced like whorls of fairy dust caught in sunbeams and spiralling
down to earth. Long dormant plants pushed through the sterile blanket, unfurling
tentative fronds of vibrant green, splashing colour upon the barrenness and
new blossom reached towards the light, receiving the warmth into its heart
as a sinner receives the blessing of their gods.
This world had a heart and the beat was
strong. It pulsed though blood and sap and the precious veins of the earth,
joining all things in sanctity.
The gods beamed their pleasure and their
healing love rolled out across the world. It cured all ills, for this was
a new day and all would face it well and whole. Scales fell from the eyes
of the blind, the crooked stood tall and disease retreated. All were to celebrate
this first day reborn. Even Angel.
He felt the healing love pass over him and
turned his face towards it. They blessed him, allowed him to touch the perfect
joy of this day. It infused his body and made him feel whole and clean. He
felt a light touch on his head and a whispered benediction.
“Our beloved child, the divided warrior,
who clasps destruction in one hand, whilst his other hand distributes life.
May you live in happiness.”
Words of thanks and gratitude from a world
that lived. A breeze caressed him with tender touch, sunlight wrapped its
warmth around him and rich, moist earth presented him with a cool retreat.
He was being tempted with a world, with
a paradise.
Yet a world that didn’t hold Spike was no
temptation at all.
He chose Spike. A picture of him clearly
in his mind. He felt other minds turning the image and loving what they found.
No further persuasion was given. This was
a world that understood the value of love and offered only light touches of
farewell that stroked his skin and ruffled his hair. He was drenched in one
last burst of pure happiness of a world born anew. It flooded through him,
clothing him in ethereal light. An opened portal appeared before him. He turned
to face the sun for one last time before stepping back to the world which
held his only real sunshine, caught within blue eyes and bright hair.
He was back in his house and despite the
lack of sleep he felt refreshed for the first time in weeks. He was buzzing
and energised.
Ok. Call
“Angel! Thank the goddess you’re back. Please,
login now and talk to Spike.”
“Spike. Why…?”
“Because I like my spine where it is. It’s
important to me. So is my heart, my liver, my intestines and every other organ
in my body.”
“
“Go. Chat. Now. He felt you disappear and
he’s been worrying ever since. And… don’t be cross. He insisted I sent your
email across. I’m sorry, he was so upset that I…”
“Oh God. I’ll call later. Thanks for everything.”
“Yes. Go.”
Angel raced over to his computer and had
hardly logged in before a message flashed up.
“Angel? That you?”
“Yeah. Hi. Sorry. You were worried?”
“Nah.”
Angel smiled at the tired face that appeared
on his screen.
“Liar.”
“So is it all fixed now?”
“The spell worked and the world breathes
again. It was wonderful to see.”
“I’m proud of you, Angel.”
Approval had been denied him for most his
life and he was almost undone to hear it falling from the lips of the person
he loved most. Expecting gentle accusations and melancholy, instead he received
the ultimate blessing and his heart expanded with love for this man. He gazed
into the camera.
“This isn’t enough. I need to hold you.”
“You’re holding me, luv. I can feel your
arms wrapped around me.”
“Yeah? You feel so good. I love the faint smell of smoke that lingers in your hair. It reminds me of cold winter nights, when the fire
was banked and we’d curl up in the warmth
of our room.”
“Your skin always smells fresh and clean.
I can smell it now, even that poncey gel you use can’t hide it. I remember
being a fledging and getting into a fight with that other clan. Was only a
couple of years old. There were too many and I thought that was the end. Suddenly
you were in front of me, a blur of movement and they were dust. You helped
me up and put an arm around me and told me that no one hurts your family.
That’s the night I first noticed your scent.”
“I remember watching the fight, wondering
if you’d run. You didn’t. From that moment I knew I could trust you. Always
so brave.”
“Not always. Tonight? Not so much. So annoyed
when
“There was no time.”
“Then I read it. It hit me like a revelation.
I understand. The love I have for you means hell is eternity without you,
but when I weigh it up I find it’s worth the price.”
“Love generally is.”
“I’m talking about you. You are worth the
price.”
“Thank you.”
“Anyway…”
“Hmmm?”
“Just wondering like…”
“What is it?”
“This baby. You know. Has it got a name
or anything. Not that I’m particularly interested. Just making conversation.”
“Buffy named him after your father.”
“My father? What you?”
“Your human father.”
“Angel?”
“Yes?”
“Please tell me you’re joking.”
“Why would I joke? She asked what your father’s
name had been and I told her.”
“Couldn’t you have talked her out of it?”
“What right did I have?”
“I knew she had a mean streak but you…”
“Are you actually feeling something for
your son?”
“Yeah. Sympathy. The poor little bugger.”
Spike raised his hand in a gesture of farewell
and logged off.
Angel switched off and sat there, deep in
thought. When Spike had talked about the old days he hadn’t felt removed from
it. They hadn’t been filtered through another’s beings memories. Instead they
had felt vibrant and alive. What had changed? He mulled over his experience
on Chi’Lustra and the emotions flooded back.
The joy and the magic were with him still.
He felt happy and whole. He remembered the hum of creation that had filled
his senses and standing amidst it he’d known for a second what perfect happiness
could be.
The gods had let him share a moment of
perfection in their perfect world… He realised what was strange. The level of
happiness he’d attained.
And yet he was still here…
with a soul…
and Angelus was no longer roaring inside.
He remembered the healing strength that
had filled the world. That had touched all. Even him. Healed all. Even him?
His heart contracted and he had the sensation
of being suddenly light-headed. He was gripped by a pleasure so great it left
him weak. He collapsed to his knees, overwhelmed, the power of his emotions
too much to contain. Tears that he’d buried for a hundred years became an
unstoppable flood, washing away all doubt and fear. They watered a fragile
hope and made it bloom.
Chi’Lustra looked on with quiet
satisfaction, on this day when all things were made whole, how could they do
less for him, their Saviour, their Champion? They whispered their final
blessing.
“Be divided no more and in this union may
you union find.”
Angel buried his head in his arms and wept
for joy.