The Pain of Betrayal
Title: The Boundaries of Love (4/?)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: R?
Disclaimer: Joss is God. I’m only a minor servant, borrowing his playthings.
Summary: Angsty. This is one of my more serious fics. Spike gets a mysterious visitor after the whole Cup of Perpetual Torment business. A sacrifice is made, setting off a chain of events that will change Spike forever and test the boundaries of his love for Angel.
Note: This is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine. Please point them out if you see one. By the way, please offer constructive criticism if you feel the need to.
Previous parts here.
The moments between unconsciousness and true wakefulness are bliss. Conscious enough to feel the intimacy of being spooned by your lover yet not awake enough for the intrusion of thoughts and memories. Even the dream world held not such temptation.
Spike snuggled deeper into his lover’s embrace. He felt secure in the cocoon of love around them. Here and only here was he safe. No one would ever betray him…yet someone had. The sanctity of his heart had been trampled and disturbed by one who had sworn to protect it, one who had plotted his downfall while making love to him.
Sylenius.
Blue eyes blinked open, their previous contentedness already chased away by the painful invasion of reality. Rage welled up, suffocating the love in his heart with its intensity. Another lover, another betrayal. It was like a curse. Only now, it seemed that he was cursed to bear the burden of another’s pain as well.
Spike didn’t know who Sylenius was but he knew that the man was definitely more than a figment of his dream. In fact, Spike was fairly certain that all the people and events in his dreams were real. The level of detail was astonishing, the sensations so realistic that they followed him into consciousness. Bloody great. As if he didn’t have enough trouble dealing with his own feelings of loss and betrayal.
Cordelia’s death and the grief of the others had momentarily distracted him from thinking about his dreams yesterday but they seemed determined to haunt him, reminding him of their presence now that he had found a moment of peace in Angel’s welcoming arms. Spike sighed. No rest for the wicked.
Why was he being shown these events through dreams? They had started after he took over Mina’s identity but they couldn’t be from her memories because he dreamed in a man’s body. In addition, the setting of the dreams was unfamiliar. The presence of lush forests and wildlife, and the appearance of the people made it seem ancient yet the architecture of the hilltop pavilion revealed advanced technological skills. All in all, it looked like something out of science fiction, like that show by Joss Whedon called, what was it, Firefly?
Perhaps, these events happened in another world or another dimension. But then, what did they have to do with him? Were they somehow related to his mission to save Angel and defeat the Senior Partners?
Spike groaned. So many questions and no answers. He went back to the beginning. First, Patrick showed up at his apartment and then - that was it! Patrick! Could it be that these dreams had to do with Patrick? The man often came into Spike’s dreams anyway so, could some of his memories have leaked into Spike’s mind? It made sense. Spike had experienced the events firsthand, only from one person’s point of view. The setting fitted too. He had always imagined that the Powers’ dimension would be a mixture of old and new - the best of both worlds.
But what he didn’t understand was the love between Patrick and Sylenius. He had thought that the Powers were uptight, anal blokes/birds who showed no emotion. However, the feelings emanating from the couple in his dream were just as rich as those of humans and demons. Also, apparently, they could be fools in love as well, whether it was with blokes or birds. That explained why Patrick acted so strangely when they talked about love - he had tasted the bitterness of betrayal before!
At this point, Spike was beginning to feel sorry for the git. To think that he had been suspicious of Patrick when the jaded man was just trying to warn him about the fickleness of love. Perhaps, he’d be nicer to Patrick next time or well, try to, anyway.
Angel shifted behind him and he stiffened. Bloody hell, all this time he had been mulling over other people’s problems, he didn’t even think about his own! Maybe he could slip away before Angel woke up so they could avoid the whole awkward morning after scene, though technically there was nothing to be awkward about.
Spike tried to move away without disturbing Angel but the vampire’s arms tightened around him.
“Whaaa?” Angel murmured sleepily.
He snapped to consciousness when he realized Spike was in bed with him. Withdrawing his arms quickly, he looked wide eyed at Spike, who had turned to face him. Spike could practically see the thoughts and questions whirling frenziedly around in the poof’s mind. Typical - brooding already.
Angel opened his mouth but instead of words, vomit spewed out. Spike shrieked like a girl, which he was, and quickly rolled away but he wasn’t fast enough to escape unscathed. He stripped off his soiled shirt in disgust and threw it into the hamper before hauling Angel into the bathroom towards the toilet.
When Angel had thrown up all that he could, he wearily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lifting his head in Spike’s direction, his apologetic look turned into a frown.
“You’re wearing a bra,” he stated with confusion.
“Well, women do wear bras underneath their shirts, Angel,” Spike said matter-of-factly.
“So if you’re wearing a bra, then we didn’t…you know?”
Spike feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night…we…” Angel paused, sniffing the air furtively. He brightened. “So we didn’t sleep together.”
Spike shook his head with amusement. “But we did,” he maintained.
Angel’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked incredibly befuddled. Spike chuckled.
“If you’re asking whether or not we fucked, then the answer is no,” Spike explained. “However, you did snuggle against me like I was your teddy bear.”
Angel scratched his neck sheepishly but then, he remembered that this hand was the one he wiped his mouth with. He blanched at the condition of what his appearance must be like and after mumbling “Thanks,” he hurriedly left the apartment to presumably return to his own apartment and shower.
Spike watched him go with a soft smile. It felt strange but good, at the same time, to interact with Angel without hostility and historical baggage straining their relationship. He hummed a jaunty little tune to himself as he left the bathroom. Even the sight of the vomit-infested bed didn’t ruin his good mood. For once, he didn’t mind picking up after Angel.
Perhaps, things would work out and they would all get fresh starts. Even Patrick. Now that Spike had figured out the things that had troubled him about Patrick and the dreams, he could breathe a sigh of relief and focus on the plan. Besides, Cordelia would have said something if anything was going wrong. She wouldn’t have left Angel’s welfare in his hands if she knew Patrick’s plan would endanger it, would she?
************
“To your left!” Spike yelled as he dodged a swipe by the ugly Ranorian demon’s huge scaly paw.
Angel spun around and beheaded the demon to his left, shooting Spike a brief, grateful smile before tackling another demon. He, Spike and the others were clearing out a nest of Ranorian demons. Spike had suggested that they check out the warehouse since there seemed to be a string of disappearances around the area and it turned out that his hunch was correct.
“Duck!” Fred shouted as she got ready to fire her flamethrower.
Punching the demon in front of him, Spike then dropped to the floor just as a blast of hungry fire roared past where his head had been a moment ago. As flesh melted off bone, the smell of burned demons permeated the entire warehouse. Adding to that, a few wooden crates had caught fire and it was spreading rapidly to other flammable materials. The gang had to literally run for their lives out of the burning building.
Outside, they collapsed at a safe distance from the warehouse.
“Whew! Haven’t had a decent fight for a while,” Gunn panted out happily.
“Thought you were fighting lawyers left and right, Charlie-“ Spike managed to cut himself off before he could finish.
A flicker of sadness flashed in Gunn’s eyes. “He used to call me Charlie boy,” he said softly.
“And he used to get so excited after a fight,” Fred added with a sniffle, trying to hold back sudden tears.
Spike cursed under his breath. He had thought to cheer them up but one blunder and they were all reminded of their grief again.
Angel laid his hand on Spike’s shoulder gently. “It’s not your fault, Mina,” he whispered in consolation. “You’ve already done enough, planning this trip and getting us out of the building.”
Spike smiled tremulously at him. Angel returned the smile with one of his own, sending a thrill of happiness tingling through Spike. In the days since their discovery of his “dusting” and Cordelia’s death, he had worked hard at taking care of all of them and trying to cheering them up. It seemed that his patience and intuitive knowledge of giving them what they needed when they wanted it had earned their admiration and friendship. Even Angel had warmed to him.
“Let’s go back to my place,” Wesley announced, trying to dispel the gloomy cloud that had descended upon them. “Chinese, anyone?”
The gang roused enough to manage some decently enthusiastic cheers. Spike and Angel got into the Viper together while the others piled into Gunn’s car and they sped away, feeling like a team again.
When everyone had settled at Wesley’s apartment with cartons of Chinese food, the former watcher opened a bottle of wine to celebrate Mina’s initiation into the Fang Gang. Inevitably, alcohol-loosened tongues turned the conversation over to the discussion of their fallen friends - Spike and Cordy. Everyone began telling funny stories about good times spent with the two of them. Spike laughed heartily at Gunn’s explanation of what really happened between the black man and him in the bathroom while he was still a ghost, haunting the hallways of Wolfram and Hart. Good times, indeed.
Angel alone remained aloof from all the talking. Instead, he sat silently, sipping from his wine once in a while. Spike suppressed a frown. The broody git always kept a tight control over his emotions, never allowing grief to escape him and run its natural course, except in private.
During Wesley’s particularly animated tale of one of his early experiences with Cordelia, Spike feigned a loud yawn. Conversation stuttered to a stop and concerned gazes swept towards him.
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “’M a little tired.”
Hiccupping slightly, Fred turned to Angel expectantly. “Why don’t you take her home first?” she suggested.
Angel managed to hide an expression of profound relief as he nodded.
When they had both gotten into the car, Angel murmured gratefully, “Thanks.”
Spike chuckled. “Can’t get anything pass you, can I?”
Angel granted him a tight-lipped smile and started up the car, pulling away from the curb to head back to Wolfram and Hart.
“You know,” Spike said after a few minutes of silence, “you can’t brood away your grief.”
“Who said I was grieving?” Angel denied a little too loudly.
Spike raised one eyebrow, earning a quirk of the lips from Angel.
“You remind me of him so much some times,” the vampire commented fondly.
Spike panicked for a second, wondering fearfully if he had given himself away. Thinking deeper, he knew that there was no way Angel would suspect him. Even he, when he thought about it sometimes, found the idea of him being in another person’s body preposterous.
“Care to enlighten me on who this ‘him’ is?” Spike asked neutrally with just a little bit of curiosity, responding as anybody would upon hearing such a remark.
An unreadable expression on his face, Angel remained silent for a few moments. Just when Spike wanted to give up and move on to other topics, he finally answered haltingly, “It’s…Spike.”
Spike’s heart skipped a beat and he suddenly felt the urge to hyperventilate.
Angel shot him a quick, concerned glance. Spike forced himself to take calm, unhurried breaths, knowing that he needed to get a grip on himself before he ended up blowing the whole thing.
“I had heard that…um…you and Spike…had been…uh…intimate…once upon a time…” Spike ventured, trying to deflect attention from himself.
Angel’s grip on the wheel tightened noticeably. “Yeah…we had…but that was a long time ago…and I’m not hitting on you if that’s what you’re thinking.”
A pang of hurt raced through Spike at the first part of Angel’s sentence.
“Like you don’t have a thing for Slayers,” he remarked, struggling to sound flippant in order to hide his turbulent emotions.
“What?!?” Angel exclaimed indignantly, nearly hitting a truck.
Spike decided to shut his mouth. After all, he was human now and even Slayer healing would not save him if Angel crashed the car.
Angel visibly tried to calm himself down as he got the car back under control. “Where did you hear that?” he asked in a tight voice.
Spike couldn’t resist. He prayed that the Powers would be watching over their car. “Well…” he began. “Giles did warn me about your…obsession…with Slayers. He said that Buffy had to kill you to get rid of you and Faith threw herself in jail to escape you…”
“HE SAID WHAT?” Angel hollered as they screeched into the Viper’s parking spot at Wolfram and Hart’s garage in record time.
Spike stifled a chortle and quickly got out of the car, wanting to put some distance between him and the irate vampire.
“You mean it isn’t true?” he queried innocently.
“Of course it isn’t true!” Angel yelled angrily. “First of all, I never dated Faith. She committed a crime and I convinced her to turn herself in. Secondly, Buffy didn’t kill me. She sent me to hell because I tried to end the world.”
“Oh, right. That’s so much better…” Spike commented, blue eyes dancing merrily with amusement.
Angel looked incredibly pissed for a second but one look at Spike told him that he had been played and a smile escaped him.
“You really should lighten up sometimes. That way you’ll actually recognize when someone’s joking with you,” Spike stated good-naturedly as they walked towards the elevator and got in.
Angel snorted. “Are you sure Giles didn’t send you to annoy me to death?” he muttered as they rode the elevator up to Spike’s floor.
“Well, actually his specific instructions were: Drive Angel nuts and then we’ll have an excuse to stake him,” Spike deadpanned.
That had the both of them dissolving into giggles for the rest of the ride. The ping of the elevator announced that they had arrived at Spike’s apartment.
Suddenly somber, Spike offered in a tone that aimed at casualness, “Come in for a drink?”
Angel hesitated for a second and then shrugged. “Why not?”
They stepped into Spike’s apartment together. While Angel made himself comfortable on the sofa, Spike cheerfully headed for the kitchen. What he saw stole away his good mood immediately.
A small vial of fluid stood innocently on his countertop. He knew without a doubt that Patrick had left it for him. The evening had been such a pleasant one that he had almost forgotten about the next step of the plan.
“Mina! You ok in there?” Angel shouted amusedly from the living room. “Slayer strength not enough to carry two drinks?”
Spike jumped and quickly shoved the vial into his jeans pocket. “Well, well. Seems like somebody’s in a hurry to get drunk!” he yelled back, injecting a sarcastic note into his voice.
Grabbing two beers from the fridge, he headed out. “Are you sure you want alcohol? Cuz I’m not too keen on being thrown up on again,” he said with a smirk.
Angel groaned. “I’m never gonna hear the end of it, am I?”
Spike laughed, all the time intensely conscious of the vial in his pocket. Plopping onto the sofa, he handed a beer to Angel.
“To absent friends,” he toasted, voice suddenly more solemn than he’d have liked. Angel paused for a brief moment and then, took a deep swig from his bottle. Spike sipped at his a little, worried that he had ruined the moment.
He racked his mind for something to say to lighten the mood. Then, he noticed that Angel was watching him with a strange expression.
“What?” he asked self-consciously. “Do I have something on my face?”
Angel shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he looked deep into Spike’s blue eyes and said, “I uh just wanted to let you know that I um …I really like you…andit’snotbecauseyou’reaSlayer!”
Spike’s heart thudded loudly in the ensuing silence.
“I’ve never felt like this before…” Angel admitted, beginning to babble. “We’ve only just known each other for what? A week or two? But I already feel like there’s this bond between us, like we’ve known each other for years. I don’t know if you feel it too. I can talk so easily with you when sometimes…I can barely manage with Wes and the others. You’ve made me laugh more than I ever had in the years since I came to L.A. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve drowned in the aftermath of Spike and Cordy’s deaths.”
Of all the things Spike had expected…He should say something because Angel was looking at him so hopefully.
“I…” he started, throat suddenly dry. “I like you too, Angel…”
The presence of the vial in his pocket made him ill at ease. It seemed to mock the sincerity of his words. If you love him so much, it asked, why are you planning on betraying him like this?
Angel’s lips spread into a boyish grin and he ducked his head, looking shy all of a sudden. Oh god, Spike thought desperately. This couldn’t happen, not now. He had succeeded far beyond his wildest dreams - Angel had fallen in love with him and yet, as he gazed at the happy face of the man he loved, he had to plot the vehicle of his destruction. The next step of his plan would bring Angel pain and grief beyond anything the vampire had ever experienced before. But, it had to be done.
He looked away, tears coming unbidden at the thought of heaping misery on this man who had already suffered so much. Gentle hands turned his head back to Angel’s concerned face and a soft mouth kissed away his tears.
“Are you ok?” Angel whispered, touching their foreheads together and gazing into his eyes with an expression full of love and hope.
Slowly, Spike nodded. He said softly, “It’s been a long time since anyone told me that they liked me.” And it had been longer since he had believed anyone who said it.
“It’s been a long time for me too,” Angel confessed, eyes shining with repressed pain.
Spike lifted one hand up to caress the angelic face and smiled, a sad expression tinged with the remembrance of loss. “Then let this night be ours,” he stated. “No matter what may come tomorrow, we will always have the memory of tonight. May it carry us through the dark days yet to come.”
Just one night. He owed Angel this. Tonight, he would bring Angel pleasure beyond the vampire’s greatest fantasies.
So, he let Angel lead him slowly to the bedroom. He submitted himself utterly and completely to Angel’s tender unclothing of his body, only rousing himself to carefully place his jeans on the chair after they were removed. Strong hands lifted him and reverently placed him on the bed. They lingered worshipfully over the bare body he wore and he nearly wept for the unfairness of it all. His words to Patrick came to mind as he closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, his resolve was unwavering.
He could see that Angel had sensed the change in him and had mistaken it for something else. A happy expression replaced the nervous one previously on Angel’s face and the vampire kissed him, a kiss full of passion better deserved by someone who wouldn’t prove false. Spike pushed away those depressing thoughts and allowed himself to be lost in the kiss. Tonight, he would give Angel nothing short of everything.
Flipping them over so that Angel was on the bottom, Spike ended the kiss regretfully, avoiding the tempting lips that kept trying to claim his. Instead, he trailed his tongue down the quivering chest, toward the evidence of Angel’s desire for him. He closed his mouth around Angel’s erection and proceeded to bring Angel to new heights of pleasure.
If his mind chanted the words “Forgive me” over and over again while he pleased his lover, then no one was any wiser to it.
***********
Instead of Sylenius, Spike found himself in the stiff embrace of a girl. That was strange. Did Patrick like birds as well as blokes? This girl, however, didn’t seem to enjoy being embraced by him that much…
He tried to pull back a little but the girl cried out painfully at the separation. Only then did he notice that there was something stuck in the girl’s abdomen and his right hand was clasped around the handle of this something. He jerked away in surprise and the object in his hand slid free from her body, revealed itself as a scythe, covered in blood. Her blood.
“You… stabbed me…” the girl whispered in shock, her hands coming up to press against the wound.
Recognizing her voice, Spike’s gaze lifted sharply to her face. The girl with the sad eyes stared back at him. Unnerved, he dropped the scythe with a clatter.
Her legs trembled and she slid slowly to the floor, eyes still trained on him. “How could you…brother?” she asked tearfully, voice full of pain at his betrayal.
Brother? Patrick had stabbed his sister? His vision swam. But…he was supposed to be the good guy!
Voices sounded behind him, getting louder by the moment. Guided by some strange compulsion, he grabbed the bloody scythe and ran, not even noticing when his necklace fell out of his robe. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there before anyone found him.
He ran and ran, for how long he didn’t know. With every step he took, the scythe dripped a bloody trail behind him. He tried to wipe the blood away with his robe but the scythe simply couldn’t be wiped clean.
Cries of alarm rang out around him.
“Alaia, the Doomed Prophetess, is dead, killed by the hands of her own brother, Atrocius!” a male voice cried out.
Still, he ran, slipping over a wet spot on the ground. He fell over, landing on blood soaked earth. Blood seemed to be bubbling out of the ground but actually, the extra blood came from his scythe, which was dripping more and more blood, faster and faster. He tried to throw it away but it wouldn’t leave his hands. His bloodied hands.
Spike clambered onto his feet, looking behind him to see if anyone had caught up. A tall wave of blood came crashing towards him. He fled, all the while thinking that he needed to wake up already. Damn Patrick for giving him these dreams!
An ocean of blood washed over him and he screamed, choking on blood. He struggled to break the surface but he had lost all sense of direction. Suddenly, he could hear a voice, the voice of the dead Alaia, girl of the sad eyes.
“From Good may come forth Darkness… Shadows can give birth to Light…” she intoned.
“I’m not the one who killed you!” he tried to yell.
Red swamped his vision and he clawed desperately, wanting to reach the source of the voice, to explain…
Spike thrashed himself to wakefulness, the covers around him spilled onto the floor. Just a dream, he told himself, as he took in breaths and breaths of air to try to calm his furious heartbeat. Nothing more than a bad dream to thank Patrick for.
Then, he saw the fresh bloodstains.
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: R?
Disclaimer: Joss is God. I’m only a minor servant, borrowing his playthings.
Summary: Angsty. This is one of my more serious fics. Spike gets a mysterious visitor after the whole Cup of Perpetual Torment business. A sacrifice is made, setting off a chain of events that will change Spike forever and test the boundaries of his love for Angel.
Note: This is unbetaed so all mistakes are mine. Please point them out if you see one. By the way, please offer constructive criticism if you feel the need to.
Previous parts here.
The moments between unconsciousness and true wakefulness are bliss. Conscious enough to feel the intimacy of being spooned by your lover yet not awake enough for the intrusion of thoughts and memories. Even the dream world held not such temptation.
Spike snuggled deeper into his lover’s embrace. He felt secure in the cocoon of love around them. Here and only here was he safe. No one would ever betray him…yet someone had. The sanctity of his heart had been trampled and disturbed by one who had sworn to protect it, one who had plotted his downfall while making love to him.
Sylenius.
Blue eyes blinked open, their previous contentedness already chased away by the painful invasion of reality. Rage welled up, suffocating the love in his heart with its intensity. Another lover, another betrayal. It was like a curse. Only now, it seemed that he was cursed to bear the burden of another’s pain as well.
Spike didn’t know who Sylenius was but he knew that the man was definitely more than a figment of his dream. In fact, Spike was fairly certain that all the people and events in his dreams were real. The level of detail was astonishing, the sensations so realistic that they followed him into consciousness. Bloody great. As if he didn’t have enough trouble dealing with his own feelings of loss and betrayal.
Cordelia’s death and the grief of the others had momentarily distracted him from thinking about his dreams yesterday but they seemed determined to haunt him, reminding him of their presence now that he had found a moment of peace in Angel’s welcoming arms. Spike sighed. No rest for the wicked.
Why was he being shown these events through dreams? They had started after he took over Mina’s identity but they couldn’t be from her memories because he dreamed in a man’s body. In addition, the setting of the dreams was unfamiliar. The presence of lush forests and wildlife, and the appearance of the people made it seem ancient yet the architecture of the hilltop pavilion revealed advanced technological skills. All in all, it looked like something out of science fiction, like that show by Joss Whedon called, what was it, Firefly?
Perhaps, these events happened in another world or another dimension. But then, what did they have to do with him? Were they somehow related to his mission to save Angel and defeat the Senior Partners?
Spike groaned. So many questions and no answers. He went back to the beginning. First, Patrick showed up at his apartment and then - that was it! Patrick! Could it be that these dreams had to do with Patrick? The man often came into Spike’s dreams anyway so, could some of his memories have leaked into Spike’s mind? It made sense. Spike had experienced the events firsthand, only from one person’s point of view. The setting fitted too. He had always imagined that the Powers’ dimension would be a mixture of old and new - the best of both worlds.
But what he didn’t understand was the love between Patrick and Sylenius. He had thought that the Powers were uptight, anal blokes/birds who showed no emotion. However, the feelings emanating from the couple in his dream were just as rich as those of humans and demons. Also, apparently, they could be fools in love as well, whether it was with blokes or birds. That explained why Patrick acted so strangely when they talked about love - he had tasted the bitterness of betrayal before!
At this point, Spike was beginning to feel sorry for the git. To think that he had been suspicious of Patrick when the jaded man was just trying to warn him about the fickleness of love. Perhaps, he’d be nicer to Patrick next time or well, try to, anyway.
Angel shifted behind him and he stiffened. Bloody hell, all this time he had been mulling over other people’s problems, he didn’t even think about his own! Maybe he could slip away before Angel woke up so they could avoid the whole awkward morning after scene, though technically there was nothing to be awkward about.
Spike tried to move away without disturbing Angel but the vampire’s arms tightened around him.
“Whaaa?” Angel murmured sleepily.
He snapped to consciousness when he realized Spike was in bed with him. Withdrawing his arms quickly, he looked wide eyed at Spike, who had turned to face him. Spike could practically see the thoughts and questions whirling frenziedly around in the poof’s mind. Typical - brooding already.
Angel opened his mouth but instead of words, vomit spewed out. Spike shrieked like a girl, which he was, and quickly rolled away but he wasn’t fast enough to escape unscathed. He stripped off his soiled shirt in disgust and threw it into the hamper before hauling Angel into the bathroom towards the toilet.
When Angel had thrown up all that he could, he wearily wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lifting his head in Spike’s direction, his apologetic look turned into a frown.
“You’re wearing a bra,” he stated with confusion.
“Well, women do wear bras underneath their shirts, Angel,” Spike said matter-of-factly.
“So if you’re wearing a bra, then we didn’t…you know?”
Spike feigned ignorance. “What are you talking about?”
“Last night…we…” Angel paused, sniffing the air furtively. He brightened. “So we didn’t sleep together.”
Spike shook his head with amusement. “But we did,” he maintained.
Angel’s eyebrows furrowed and he looked incredibly befuddled. Spike chuckled.
“If you’re asking whether or not we fucked, then the answer is no,” Spike explained. “However, you did snuggle against me like I was your teddy bear.”
Angel scratched his neck sheepishly but then, he remembered that this hand was the one he wiped his mouth with. He blanched at the condition of what his appearance must be like and after mumbling “Thanks,” he hurriedly left the apartment to presumably return to his own apartment and shower.
Spike watched him go with a soft smile. It felt strange but good, at the same time, to interact with Angel without hostility and historical baggage straining their relationship. He hummed a jaunty little tune to himself as he left the bathroom. Even the sight of the vomit-infested bed didn’t ruin his good mood. For once, he didn’t mind picking up after Angel.
Perhaps, things would work out and they would all get fresh starts. Even Patrick. Now that Spike had figured out the things that had troubled him about Patrick and the dreams, he could breathe a sigh of relief and focus on the plan. Besides, Cordelia would have said something if anything was going wrong. She wouldn’t have left Angel’s welfare in his hands if she knew Patrick’s plan would endanger it, would she?
************
“To your left!” Spike yelled as he dodged a swipe by the ugly Ranorian demon’s huge scaly paw.
Angel spun around and beheaded the demon to his left, shooting Spike a brief, grateful smile before tackling another demon. He, Spike and the others were clearing out a nest of Ranorian demons. Spike had suggested that they check out the warehouse since there seemed to be a string of disappearances around the area and it turned out that his hunch was correct.
“Duck!” Fred shouted as she got ready to fire her flamethrower.
Punching the demon in front of him, Spike then dropped to the floor just as a blast of hungry fire roared past where his head had been a moment ago. As flesh melted off bone, the smell of burned demons permeated the entire warehouse. Adding to that, a few wooden crates had caught fire and it was spreading rapidly to other flammable materials. The gang had to literally run for their lives out of the burning building.
Outside, they collapsed at a safe distance from the warehouse.
“Whew! Haven’t had a decent fight for a while,” Gunn panted out happily.
“Thought you were fighting lawyers left and right, Charlie-“ Spike managed to cut himself off before he could finish.
A flicker of sadness flashed in Gunn’s eyes. “He used to call me Charlie boy,” he said softly.
“And he used to get so excited after a fight,” Fred added with a sniffle, trying to hold back sudden tears.
Spike cursed under his breath. He had thought to cheer them up but one blunder and they were all reminded of their grief again.
Angel laid his hand on Spike’s shoulder gently. “It’s not your fault, Mina,” he whispered in consolation. “You’ve already done enough, planning this trip and getting us out of the building.”
Spike smiled tremulously at him. Angel returned the smile with one of his own, sending a thrill of happiness tingling through Spike. In the days since their discovery of his “dusting” and Cordelia’s death, he had worked hard at taking care of all of them and trying to cheering them up. It seemed that his patience and intuitive knowledge of giving them what they needed when they wanted it had earned their admiration and friendship. Even Angel had warmed to him.
“Let’s go back to my place,” Wesley announced, trying to dispel the gloomy cloud that had descended upon them. “Chinese, anyone?”
The gang roused enough to manage some decently enthusiastic cheers. Spike and Angel got into the Viper together while the others piled into Gunn’s car and they sped away, feeling like a team again.
When everyone had settled at Wesley’s apartment with cartons of Chinese food, the former watcher opened a bottle of wine to celebrate Mina’s initiation into the Fang Gang. Inevitably, alcohol-loosened tongues turned the conversation over to the discussion of their fallen friends - Spike and Cordy. Everyone began telling funny stories about good times spent with the two of them. Spike laughed heartily at Gunn’s explanation of what really happened between the black man and him in the bathroom while he was still a ghost, haunting the hallways of Wolfram and Hart. Good times, indeed.
Angel alone remained aloof from all the talking. Instead, he sat silently, sipping from his wine once in a while. Spike suppressed a frown. The broody git always kept a tight control over his emotions, never allowing grief to escape him and run its natural course, except in private.
During Wesley’s particularly animated tale of one of his early experiences with Cordelia, Spike feigned a loud yawn. Conversation stuttered to a stop and concerned gazes swept towards him.
“Sorry,” he said with a sheepish grin. “’M a little tired.”
Hiccupping slightly, Fred turned to Angel expectantly. “Why don’t you take her home first?” she suggested.
Angel managed to hide an expression of profound relief as he nodded.
When they had both gotten into the car, Angel murmured gratefully, “Thanks.”
Spike chuckled. “Can’t get anything pass you, can I?”
Angel granted him a tight-lipped smile and started up the car, pulling away from the curb to head back to Wolfram and Hart.
“You know,” Spike said after a few minutes of silence, “you can’t brood away your grief.”
“Who said I was grieving?” Angel denied a little too loudly.
Spike raised one eyebrow, earning a quirk of the lips from Angel.
“You remind me of him so much some times,” the vampire commented fondly.
Spike panicked for a second, wondering fearfully if he had given himself away. Thinking deeper, he knew that there was no way Angel would suspect him. Even he, when he thought about it sometimes, found the idea of him being in another person’s body preposterous.
“Care to enlighten me on who this ‘him’ is?” Spike asked neutrally with just a little bit of curiosity, responding as anybody would upon hearing such a remark.
An unreadable expression on his face, Angel remained silent for a few moments. Just when Spike wanted to give up and move on to other topics, he finally answered haltingly, “It’s…Spike.”
Spike’s heart skipped a beat and he suddenly felt the urge to hyperventilate.
Angel shot him a quick, concerned glance. Spike forced himself to take calm, unhurried breaths, knowing that he needed to get a grip on himself before he ended up blowing the whole thing.
“I had heard that…um…you and Spike…had been…uh…intimate…once upon a time…” Spike ventured, trying to deflect attention from himself.
Angel’s grip on the wheel tightened noticeably. “Yeah…we had…but that was a long time ago…and I’m not hitting on you if that’s what you’re thinking.”
A pang of hurt raced through Spike at the first part of Angel’s sentence.
“Like you don’t have a thing for Slayers,” he remarked, struggling to sound flippant in order to hide his turbulent emotions.
“What?!?” Angel exclaimed indignantly, nearly hitting a truck.
Spike decided to shut his mouth. After all, he was human now and even Slayer healing would not save him if Angel crashed the car.
Angel visibly tried to calm himself down as he got the car back under control. “Where did you hear that?” he asked in a tight voice.
Spike couldn’t resist. He prayed that the Powers would be watching over their car. “Well…” he began. “Giles did warn me about your…obsession…with Slayers. He said that Buffy had to kill you to get rid of you and Faith threw herself in jail to escape you…”
“HE SAID WHAT?” Angel hollered as they screeched into the Viper’s parking spot at Wolfram and Hart’s garage in record time.
Spike stifled a chortle and quickly got out of the car, wanting to put some distance between him and the irate vampire.
“You mean it isn’t true?” he queried innocently.
“Of course it isn’t true!” Angel yelled angrily. “First of all, I never dated Faith. She committed a crime and I convinced her to turn herself in. Secondly, Buffy didn’t kill me. She sent me to hell because I tried to end the world.”
“Oh, right. That’s so much better…” Spike commented, blue eyes dancing merrily with amusement.
Angel looked incredibly pissed for a second but one look at Spike told him that he had been played and a smile escaped him.
“You really should lighten up sometimes. That way you’ll actually recognize when someone’s joking with you,” Spike stated good-naturedly as they walked towards the elevator and got in.
Angel snorted. “Are you sure Giles didn’t send you to annoy me to death?” he muttered as they rode the elevator up to Spike’s floor.
“Well, actually his specific instructions were: Drive Angel nuts and then we’ll have an excuse to stake him,” Spike deadpanned.
That had the both of them dissolving into giggles for the rest of the ride. The ping of the elevator announced that they had arrived at Spike’s apartment.
Suddenly somber, Spike offered in a tone that aimed at casualness, “Come in for a drink?”
Angel hesitated for a second and then shrugged. “Why not?”
They stepped into Spike’s apartment together. While Angel made himself comfortable on the sofa, Spike cheerfully headed for the kitchen. What he saw stole away his good mood immediately.
A small vial of fluid stood innocently on his countertop. He knew without a doubt that Patrick had left it for him. The evening had been such a pleasant one that he had almost forgotten about the next step of the plan.
“Mina! You ok in there?” Angel shouted amusedly from the living room. “Slayer strength not enough to carry two drinks?”
Spike jumped and quickly shoved the vial into his jeans pocket. “Well, well. Seems like somebody’s in a hurry to get drunk!” he yelled back, injecting a sarcastic note into his voice.
Grabbing two beers from the fridge, he headed out. “Are you sure you want alcohol? Cuz I’m not too keen on being thrown up on again,” he said with a smirk.
Angel groaned. “I’m never gonna hear the end of it, am I?”
Spike laughed, all the time intensely conscious of the vial in his pocket. Plopping onto the sofa, he handed a beer to Angel.
“To absent friends,” he toasted, voice suddenly more solemn than he’d have liked. Angel paused for a brief moment and then, took a deep swig from his bottle. Spike sipped at his a little, worried that he had ruined the moment.
He racked his mind for something to say to lighten the mood. Then, he noticed that Angel was watching him with a strange expression.
“What?” he asked self-consciously. “Do I have something on my face?”
Angel shook his head. Taking a deep breath, he looked deep into Spike’s blue eyes and said, “I uh just wanted to let you know that I um …I really like you…andit’snotbecauseyou’reaSlayer!”
Spike’s heart thudded loudly in the ensuing silence.
“I’ve never felt like this before…” Angel admitted, beginning to babble. “We’ve only just known each other for what? A week or two? But I already feel like there’s this bond between us, like we’ve known each other for years. I don’t know if you feel it too. I can talk so easily with you when sometimes…I can barely manage with Wes and the others. You’ve made me laugh more than I ever had in the years since I came to L.A. If it weren’t for you, I would’ve drowned in the aftermath of Spike and Cordy’s deaths.”
Of all the things Spike had expected…He should say something because Angel was looking at him so hopefully.
“I…” he started, throat suddenly dry. “I like you too, Angel…”
The presence of the vial in his pocket made him ill at ease. It seemed to mock the sincerity of his words. If you love him so much, it asked, why are you planning on betraying him like this?
Angel’s lips spread into a boyish grin and he ducked his head, looking shy all of a sudden. Oh god, Spike thought desperately. This couldn’t happen, not now. He had succeeded far beyond his wildest dreams - Angel had fallen in love with him and yet, as he gazed at the happy face of the man he loved, he had to plot the vehicle of his destruction. The next step of his plan would bring Angel pain and grief beyond anything the vampire had ever experienced before. But, it had to be done.
He looked away, tears coming unbidden at the thought of heaping misery on this man who had already suffered so much. Gentle hands turned his head back to Angel’s concerned face and a soft mouth kissed away his tears.
“Are you ok?” Angel whispered, touching their foreheads together and gazing into his eyes with an expression full of love and hope.
Slowly, Spike nodded. He said softly, “It’s been a long time since anyone told me that they liked me.” And it had been longer since he had believed anyone who said it.
“It’s been a long time for me too,” Angel confessed, eyes shining with repressed pain.
Spike lifted one hand up to caress the angelic face and smiled, a sad expression tinged with the remembrance of loss. “Then let this night be ours,” he stated. “No matter what may come tomorrow, we will always have the memory of tonight. May it carry us through the dark days yet to come.”
Just one night. He owed Angel this. Tonight, he would bring Angel pleasure beyond the vampire’s greatest fantasies.
So, he let Angel lead him slowly to the bedroom. He submitted himself utterly and completely to Angel’s tender unclothing of his body, only rousing himself to carefully place his jeans on the chair after they were removed. Strong hands lifted him and reverently placed him on the bed. They lingered worshipfully over the bare body he wore and he nearly wept for the unfairness of it all. His words to Patrick came to mind as he closed his eyes for a moment and when he opened them, his resolve was unwavering.
He could see that Angel had sensed the change in him and had mistaken it for something else. A happy expression replaced the nervous one previously on Angel’s face and the vampire kissed him, a kiss full of passion better deserved by someone who wouldn’t prove false. Spike pushed away those depressing thoughts and allowed himself to be lost in the kiss. Tonight, he would give Angel nothing short of everything.
Flipping them over so that Angel was on the bottom, Spike ended the kiss regretfully, avoiding the tempting lips that kept trying to claim his. Instead, he trailed his tongue down the quivering chest, toward the evidence of Angel’s desire for him. He closed his mouth around Angel’s erection and proceeded to bring Angel to new heights of pleasure.
If his mind chanted the words “Forgive me” over and over again while he pleased his lover, then no one was any wiser to it.
***********
Instead of Sylenius, Spike found himself in the stiff embrace of a girl. That was strange. Did Patrick like birds as well as blokes? This girl, however, didn’t seem to enjoy being embraced by him that much…
He tried to pull back a little but the girl cried out painfully at the separation. Only then did he notice that there was something stuck in the girl’s abdomen and his right hand was clasped around the handle of this something. He jerked away in surprise and the object in his hand slid free from her body, revealed itself as a scythe, covered in blood. Her blood.
“You… stabbed me…” the girl whispered in shock, her hands coming up to press against the wound.
Recognizing her voice, Spike’s gaze lifted sharply to her face. The girl with the sad eyes stared back at him. Unnerved, he dropped the scythe with a clatter.
Her legs trembled and she slid slowly to the floor, eyes still trained on him. “How could you…brother?” she asked tearfully, voice full of pain at his betrayal.
Brother? Patrick had stabbed his sister? His vision swam. But…he was supposed to be the good guy!
Voices sounded behind him, getting louder by the moment. Guided by some strange compulsion, he grabbed the bloody scythe and ran, not even noticing when his necklace fell out of his robe. All he knew was that he needed to get out of there before anyone found him.
He ran and ran, for how long he didn’t know. With every step he took, the scythe dripped a bloody trail behind him. He tried to wipe the blood away with his robe but the scythe simply couldn’t be wiped clean.
Cries of alarm rang out around him.
“Alaia, the Doomed Prophetess, is dead, killed by the hands of her own brother, Atrocius!” a male voice cried out.
Still, he ran, slipping over a wet spot on the ground. He fell over, landing on blood soaked earth. Blood seemed to be bubbling out of the ground but actually, the extra blood came from his scythe, which was dripping more and more blood, faster and faster. He tried to throw it away but it wouldn’t leave his hands. His bloodied hands.
Spike clambered onto his feet, looking behind him to see if anyone had caught up. A tall wave of blood came crashing towards him. He fled, all the while thinking that he needed to wake up already. Damn Patrick for giving him these dreams!
An ocean of blood washed over him and he screamed, choking on blood. He struggled to break the surface but he had lost all sense of direction. Suddenly, he could hear a voice, the voice of the dead Alaia, girl of the sad eyes.
“From Good may come forth Darkness… Shadows can give birth to Light…” she intoned.
“I’m not the one who killed you!” he tried to yell.
Red swamped his vision and he clawed desperately, wanting to reach the source of the voice, to explain…
Spike thrashed himself to wakefulness, the covers around him spilled onto the floor. Just a dream, he told himself, as he took in breaths and breaths of air to try to calm his furious heartbeat. Nothing more than a bad dream to thank Patrick for.
Then, he saw the fresh bloodstains.