Carry Me
Sorry for bombarding you all with fic but i needed to get this out. =)
Title: Carry Me
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Angel/Willow
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Joss is God. We are all God’s creations so obviously, the characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Post NFA. How do you go on alone? Angsty piece.
Droplets fell upon his face as he wavered in and out of consciousness. When a pair of blue orbs shimmered across the horizons of his eyes, he knew these droplets were the tears he never saw. Yet, he felt confused. In his memories, the scene played out differently.
He remembered no tears - only pain and concern buried beneath chastisement.
“If you can’t make it by yourself, then you find someone to bloody well carry you!”
The arms remained the same. Strong, steady pillars holding him up and grounding him in his weakest hour. In his vulnerability, he had dared to answer the soft words with his own murmurs of love. But now, there was only the sound of falling tears.
If he could only hear the words once more…oh god, he longed to hear them though he didn’t deserve to. There was no one to blame but himself. A gift freely offered would be taken back, if refused. And refuse he did. Once recovered, he had no use for soft words. He had chased them away with blood, the finest wine of the forbidden - a more fitting gift for true vampires like him.
Ever since then, there had been no more words. Not for a long century of regret.
He opened his mouth to try to say something, anything but pain had stolen his voice. Instead, the tears poured into him and he swallowed them greedily as if he were a parched man lost in the desert. Only…they weren’t tears - they were rain.
************
From unconsciousness, he climbed his way back to blue eyes.
“Spike?” Angel croaked as he blinked blearily. He struggled to sit up but before the cold hands could touch him, he already knew.
“You are experiencing…disappointment, are you not, half-breed?” Illyria questioned with a trace of curiosity.
“My name is Angel,” he muttered, evading her sharp eyes. Instead, he stared around at the whitewashed walls. He was in a hospital.
“Is disappointment a normal reaction to the reception of a reward?” she mused.
Angel gritted his teeth. Of all the people, he had to be stuck with her.
“The healer stated that there would be no…scars…to mar your mortal shell.”
Belatedly, he realized that she was trying to comfort him by telling him that the healing had left him without a single scar. He wished it had.
Feeling the onset of bone deep grief, he hurriedly changed the topic. He could brood later. But right now, he had to know.
“Where’s Spike?” he demanded.
“I had pondered when you would question me as to the condition of your…intimate.”
“What?!?” Angel’s gaze snapped to hers sharply.
“Before our battle with the Senior Partners, he had informed me that ‘there was that one time’ when you were intimate. Is that not true?”
She tilted her head and peered at him expectantly. He had the feeling that she saw more than he could hide and that she actually understood what she saw.
Tired, and not just because of the fight, he allowed himself to lament.
“It was a long time ago.”
What he and the younger vampire had couldn’t be summed up by the word ‘intimate.’ No, what they had - it transcended blood, souls and demons.
For an eternity, Illyria simply regarded him silently and he let her. He had no strength and there was nobody left to carry him away. Not anymore.
“He has fallen,” she announced finally. Strangely enough, her tone was mournfully quiet.
Her words dispelled all hopes that his gut feeling was wrong. He would’ve cried except that at that moment, medical personnel streamed into the room. In all the confusion, Illyria slipped away and Angel felt truly alone.
One morning, he woke up to the gaze of a pair of green eyes.
“Angel, I’ve come to take you home.”
And home, it turned out, was New York City.
************
“What are you thinking of?” Willow asked as she climbed up onto the ledge next to him. It was like a little balcony, just big enough for two people to sit in safely.
He turned away from his contemplation of the quiet Brooklyn streets below him to face her lively green eyes. She, who had been sent to inform him regretfully that Buffy had moved on, had ended up being his savior. He always knew he could count on her to save his soul.
But as always she surprised him, gave him a purpose and a home. A brand new start.
“I was just thinking that I couldn’t have made it without you…” he admitted.
She smiled, eyes the wrong color but filled with warmth and understanding nonetheless.
“Hey, you’re a heavy burden to bear but I cheated and cast some spells,” she joked, “so I didn’t exactly carry you all the way.”
He couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Pulling her into his arms, he marveled at the gift he had been given. He breathed in the sweet, earthy scent of his lover - a mixture of innocence and darkness.
She understood him, knew what it was like to carry the guilt of bloodied hands. They were companions as well as lovers. She helped him and he helped her. Sometimes, he wondered why he had first fallen in love with Buffy and not her. Perhaps, he had been reminded of another who had the strength to carry him. But instead, he had found that Buffy expected him to carry her.
“Now that we’ve fulfilled our quota of brooding for the day, can we please go downstairs?” Willow teased. “Xander’s due any minute.”
Angel stiffened. Xander hid it well in front of her but Angel knew that for some reason, the brunette hated him more than ever now. He tightened his arms around her, wishing they could remain there forever, watching the sunset.
She pulled away to look at him.
“Angel?” she prompted.
With a sigh, he got up and they left the roof.
Xander was already waiting behind the front door. He embraced Willow and favored Angel with a smile that didn’t reach the one eye he had left.
Willow chattered excitedly and for her sake, Angel tried to make small talk. While Willow pattered around the kitchen cooking dinner for them, Angel opened a bottle of red wine and poured him and Xander each a glass full.
They took their drinks to the living room. Xander settled into the sofa, wincing as he moved away a cushion. He pulled his hand up and there was a small sewing needle stuck to one of his fingers.
“Oh, Willow must have dropped that earlier,” Angel explained apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Sewing for you, huh?” Xander asked, sounding faintly resentful as he pulled the needle out. A droplet of blood welled up from his tiny wound.
Grabbing a tissue, Angel reached for his hand in concern.
Xander jerked away violently.
“DON’T TOUCH MY BLOOD!” he screamed.
Angel froze at the raw hatred he saw in Xander’s eyes.
“I’m not a vampire anymore, Xander,” he said softly, face lined with pain.
Xander laughed bitterly.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “and yet you still get everything.”
He shoved away Willow who had rushed into the room anxiously. Without another word, he left the house.
“What happened?” Willow asked in a trembling voice.
“I don’t know,” Angel confessed. He sank down in his armchair with a heavy sigh, Xander’s harsh words echoing in his mind.
The next day, a phone call drew Willow away to Cleveland. Angel wanted to go too but Willow was worried about him. After Xander’s visit, he seemed to fold within himself. Willow argued that he was in no condition to be part of a fight now.
Though she didn’t say it, he heard it nonetheless. He was useless now. They didn’t need him. He would only be a liability and that was the real reason Willow didn’t want him to go.
Nothing she said could convince him otherwise. She almost didn’t go because she was so worried about his mental situation but she had heard real desperation in Faith’s tone. The good fight would have to come first. A fight he no longer had any part of, Angel thought bitterly.
The house felt so cold after she left. He didn’t want to stay in. Hopping on the subway, he went to Manhattan, hoping to drown his loneliness in the bright lights and crowds.
Choosing a random bar, he walked in and ordered a whiskey.
That was when he saw him.
************
Angel wanted to ask, to know, to understand but instead, he kissed. He wanted to profess his love but instead, he thrust harder. Never was much good with words anyway.
As they made love on the bed where Angel had first broken down and let Willow in, Spike heard the words underlying the artistry of their bodies. With every writhe and every moan, he felt his heartbeat echo with their passion. Their love.
It was powerful and uncontrollable as the fury of the storm that raged outside. For over a century, it had been denied and suppressed, the pressure slowly building up inside, and eventually it gained the strength to break free from its dam. The force of its liberation swept through them and cleansed their souls, making way for the beginnings of a new connection.
In the aftermath, they lay together replete and exhausted. Then, a sudden hitch turned into a full fledged sob and Angel tore away from Spike, running up to the roof. His trembling knees gave out and he fell to the ground, allowing the rain to lash him into submission. It seemed fitting, somehow.
“Oh Christ on a cross! Are you bloody mad?” Spike demanded, footsteps splashing around to Angel.
The brunette rolled over to stare at his lover. Despite the torrential downpour, he tried to keep his eyes and mouth open.
“I thought you…” he hiccupped. “She…”
“Whatever it is, come back inside first, will ya?” Spike barked though a hint of pleading softened his tone.
Angel allowed himself to be tugged inside and dried with a fluffy white towel. He sat sniffling on the bed while Spike paced.
“Suppose you wanna know what happened then,” Spike said with a sigh.
A nod confirmed his guess.
“We defeated them. Against all the bloody odds, we took the fuckers down. Then, you got your bloody reward and promptly collapsed. Always leave me to take care of your soddin’ messes, eh?”
Spike paused to glance at Angel with a not-quite-smile.
“Had to carry your lard arse to the hospital. Only…I didn’t get very far before I collapsed as well. Bloody Powers. Blue couldn’t carry the both of us and since you looked worse than I did, she took you to the hospital and came back for me later. But by the time she got back, someone had already found me. The ambulance took me off to another hospital and I was out of it for a few days.”
“But I was in London when I woke up,” Angel interrupted in confusion.
“Blue told me later that Red mojo’d in and took your body. Seemed like the Watcher didn’t want anyone else getting their mittens on you first,” Spike explained, with a hint of bitterness.
“What about you?”
“Blue didn’t tell them about me.”
“She didn’t?”
“Told her not to, in the alley.” Spike looked away. “Wasn’t me she wanted, was it now?”
“You couldn’t have known…”
Spike chuckled without amusement. “’M not daft, mate. Know when ‘m not wanted.”
“Spike…”
“Cor, if I knew she didn’t want you either, would’ve contacted them and had Red fix me up all quick like. Hate the bloody hospitals.”
“So all this time…you thought I was with her?”
“Nah, Blue told me you’d left with Red.”
“Why didn’t you come find me?” Angel’s voice trembled. All this time, he had grieved and Spike had been walking around doing God knows what.
Spike snorted. “Like you tried to bloody find me and explain, mate.”
“Illyria told me you were dead.”
Shocked, Spike fell silent. Angel looked away, the tears threatening again.
“’M gonna find her and rip her lungs out,” Spike growled.
“Well,” Angel rubbed his face tiredly, “actually she said you had fallen and I assumed…”
“…Oh…”
“Yeah…”
Spike sighed. “We’re a sorry lot, you and I.” He shook his head sadly and sank onto the bed next to Angel. “Well then…what have you been bloody up to?”
“Nothing much,” Angel lied.
“So you haven’t been with Red then…” Spike said, suddenly solemn.
“Willow?” Angel laughed nervously.
“Her piccie is right there on the nightstand, you know.”
“Oh…” Angel fidgeted but made no further contribution to the conversation.
Spike faltered. Had he been wrong? Perhaps, that had not been love that he had felt before when they shagged each other damn near senseless. Maybe he had simply deluded himself.
“Well then,” he said falsely nonchalant as he got up and began tugging on his clothes, hands shaking imperceptibly in the dark. “It was nice and all but I better get going. Got things to do, people to…not see…”
“You’re just going to leave?”
Refusing to turn to Angel, he stated bitterly, “Nothing left for me here, is there?”
“There’s me...” Angel’s voice was so soft that it was nearly drowned out by the thundering rain outside.
“But…Red…”
Vulnerable blue eyes turned to meet brown ones.
“I’ll talk to her,” Angel promised.
Spike nodded slowly and stayed.
It was as if the world was made new. They behaved like young lovers, constantly together and laughing at each other for no apparent reason. The days, they spent wandering around the city and the nights, they fused together under the stars on the roof. Neither noticed their stalker, so intent they were on each other’s happiness.
When Willow called and said tiredly that she needed to stay for longer than expected, Angel had to struggle to keep the joy out of his voice. After hanging up, he turned to Spike happily but faltered at the mixture of guilt and worry on his lover’s face. Spike offered to leave. But, Angel wouldn’t let him. A century apart had been enough. Willow would understand.
One morning, Angel woke up to find himself alone. His heart leapt in his chest. Had it all been a dream? He jumped to his feet and thankfully, found a note on the nightstand:
Had some personal stuff to take care of. Will be back before nightfall.
-Will
Angel relaxed. He pattered happily around the house, humming to himself. Maybe he ought to do some work. It had been a week since Willow left and he hadn’t touched the translations once. He should finish them before Giles decided to fire him.
Checking the clock more and more often as night approached, he tried to distract himself with thoughts of the future. They’d obviously have to move out when Willow came back. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to, since they were the ones in the wrong. But then what? He could continue his job with the Council and maybe he could ask Giles to hire Spike as well. Surely, Giles would help them, right?
Dinner hour came and went. Angel sat there, his meal barely touched as his stomach twisted in knots. Some unexpected complications probably came up or Spike had met an old friend or something. Still, a responsible lover would call.
Angel laughed at himself. Responsible? That was not a word anyone would use to describe Spike. But really, he shouldn’t worry so much. Spike could take of himself, had done it for a hundred years. He would be back later tonight or tomorrow morning.
Taking a shower, he climbed into bed and tried to read a book. He kept being distracted by the empty spot next to him. It was strange to be without his hyperactive lover. Eventually, he fell asleep, firm in his belief that when he woke up, Spike would be there.
***********
Morning and still no Spike. Angel’s worries flooded back. Unable to stand being in the house alone, he went out to the supermarket to do some grocery shopping. If Spike wasn’t back by the afternoon, he would call the police.
Eating at a quaint little café, he decided that he would bring Spike back there. It was cheap and delicious, and the owners were friendly. They had spent so much time exploring Manhattan that they didn’t realize there were treasures to be found in their own neighborhood.
He finally returned home, trying to keep his hopes clamped down. Seeing the keys on the counter, he nearly whooped with joy. Pounding up the stairs, he searched for his errant lover, smiling at the thought of punishment. Not in the bedroom. Ah, the roof.
Emerging into the blinding early afternoon sunlight, he had to shade his eyes with his hands. He could make out the form of a man sitting on the ledge.
“Spike!” he yelled.
“Guess again…” came another man’s voice.
“Xander?!?” Angel exclaimed in disbelief. He headed towards the man but Xander suddenly got up on the ledge.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll jump,” he threatened.
Angel froze. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded.
Xander chuckled, a choked tune filled with unmitigated hate.
“You!” he shouted angrily. “That’s what’s wrong with me!”
“What?” Angel stated in confusion.
“You always take everything! You took Buffy and now you’ve taken Willow!” Xander cried in frustration. “What do have against me?”
“I-“
“So now I’ve taken something of yours.”
Angel’s blood ran cold. The malevolent gleam in Xander’s eyes scared him.
“What did you to do to him?” he demanded in a shaky voice.
“We had a real good time catching up, if you catch my drift here. Had some good laughs at your expense. Didn’t think you’d fall for it at first but then Spike knew better. All that time you played innocent in front of the girls when really, you were an asshole inside. You already had Willow but it wasn’t enough, was it? She didn’t satisfy you so you jumped at the chance to fuck your old buddy Spike when he came to town. Now, he’s upped and left you. Now, you know how it feels to have everything you want taken away.”
“You lie!” Angel yelled heatedly, trembling with fury. He wanted to cover his ears. It couldn’t be true, could it?
Xander laughed. “I win, Deadboy!” he shouted gleefully and deliberately plunged off the roof.
Angel raced to the ledge but it was too late. On the pavement below, Xander lay broken and lifeless. His triumphant grin, however, remained with him, immortalized forever in death.
Stunned, Angel dialed the number for the police. They came, asked him questions and took the body away. The death was ruled as a suicide. It was all taken care of. The only thing left to do was tell Willow.
He needed to hear her sweet voice, to listen to her tell him that everything was ok. Losing Spike and watching Xander die had broken his walls down. All the pain and memories of his former life as a vampire flooded into him. He knew Xander had spoken the truth. It was what he deserved. Why would Spike want him after he had so callously left his childe all those years ago?
It was revenge - that was what it was. He was meant to suffer, to know what it was like to be betrayed by the one you love when you had given all you could give. Spike, no, William had once carried him to safety and nourished him with words of love. In return, he had offered nothing but grief.
Suddenly stiffening, Angel tried to remember if Xander had said whether or not he had told Willow about Spike. Pacing fearfully around for hours, Angel cast torturous glances at the telephone. Would she throw him out too, leave him to wander around aimlessly until he killed himself or Spike or her or all three of them?
He couldn’t exist, not without her cocoon of love.
Love - that was it!
Xander loved Willow too much to tell her. He knew that it would hurt her deeply and he never wanted to make her sad. Just like he had never showed his disdain for Angel in front of her because he wanted to make her happy.
Angel was elated and ashamed at his elation. He didn’t deserve Willow but he needed her.
************
“Are you sure you’ll be ok by yourself, sweetie?”
Angel smiled at his fiancée.
“Willow, I’m just going to London,” he reassured her. “Giles will be there.”
It had been two years after Xander’s death. They had moved to Cleveland, leaving New York and the horrible memories behind. Angel had healed mostly. He was content with his life. But Willow fretted over him constantly. She felt that something had changed. After a year of therapy with a trusted demon psychiatrist, Angel had worked out most of the issues that had plagued him since he Shanshued and on the surface, he seemed like the perfect, doting boyfriend. However, the sense of connection between them from before the Cleveland trip had vanished. Willow could no longer reach him. All her friends either told her it would take time or that she was making a big deal out of nothing. He was charming, intelligent, affectionate - what more could she want?
Pushing her worries away, she pasted a weak smile on her face. If only she could accompany him. She really didn’t want him to go by himself. But then, she was needed here and Giles needed Angel. Angel was the world’s foremost expert on Drusilla and the new Watchers could benefit a lot from his knowledge.
“I love you,” Angel whispered almost regretfully, pulling her into a fierce hug one last time before getting on the plane.
Little did she know, it would be the last time she would see him. Two days later, a grieving Giles called her. Angel had disappeared.
Willow flew over to London. Buffy, Faith and other friends she had met over the years gathered together to help in the search. After months of fruitless toil, they eventually left the matter in the hands of the police but Willow stayed with Giles, unwilling to go back to her house where she had shared so many memories with Angel.
She wandered around London, a shadow of her former self. One day, she was found in a ditch with her neck broken. Giles felt a deep sense of unease but there seemed to be nothing suspicious about the killing.
Then, he himself died a few days later, apparently from taking too many sleeping pills. His death left the Council floundering and Buffy had her hands full. She was too busy to notice the increasing number of nightly deaths in London. All the bodies were mangled beyond imagination and even the coroners had trouble finding out what was the cause of death.
Londoners continued to party though, as if the horrible deaths had taken place in another city. The gay clubs continued to fill with people. There had been rumors of a new hottie in town. The stranger partied with the best of them but never took anybody home. One night, as he left the club Hypnotic, a shadow peeled away to trail after him.
The stumbling, clearly drunk man collapsed in front of his apartment building. His stalker prowled closer.
“Bloody stop where you are,” the drunk slurred a little. “Can’t do nothin’ with me. I’ve got AIDS, mate.”
“Do you now, Will?”
A beat of silence and then Spike’s trembling voice queried, “Angel?”
He blinked blearily into the darkness, barely making out the form of a huge, hulking creature.
Stepping into the light, the stalker revealed himself. He was indeed Angel.
Bending down to bring their faces closer, Angel repeated softly, “Do you really have AIDS, Will?”
Spike swallowed hard but nodded. Angel noticed how pale he was.
“How?”
“The whelp gave it to me.”
“Xander had AIDS?”
Angel hissed angrily. He dragged Spike up and slammed the smaller man against the wall.
“You did fuck him, you ungrateful son of a bitch!” he spat.
“No!” Spike gasped, struggling for breath. “Would I do that to you?”
Angel’s grip on him loosened slightly. “Then how?”
“Bastard stuck me with a bloody needle,” Spike stated with a bitter chuckle, “and told me afterwards.”
Angel reeled as if punched and let go of his quarry. Without his grip, Spike slumped to the ground.
All the pieces fell into place. Xander’s anger and bitterness and his outburst about not touching his blood - it all made sense. That was why he hated Angel because Angel had it all - a home, a girlfriend and a future. Meanwhile, he couldn’t ever be with anyone he loved without the risk of passing the disease to them. When he saw Angel cheating on Willow, he snapped. He was determined to destroy the two former vampires who had gotten what he should have deserved.
“But how could he have gotten AIDS?” Angel wondered out loud.
“Well, he did spend time in bleedin’ Africa,” Spike muttered.
Angel bent down beside him again, tone much gentler now than before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Spike looked into his soft chocolate eyes. “’Cause I didn’t want you to suffer, you git,” he said sadly, tears prickling his eyes.
Angel felt his eyes start to burn as well. Spike’s confession unwittingly echoed the reason he had left Spike all those years ago.
“You deserve a future, with someone who could make you happy but I knew that if I stayed, you would’ve done the noble thing and taken care of me. I didn’t want that. And I didn’t trust meself. Couldn’t be close and not shag you so I left.”
Angel’s expression hardened. “Is that why you’re out every night partying? Because you were trying to forget me?” he hissed.
Spike frowned. “How long you been watching me, luv?”
“Long enough.”
“Then you should’ve bloody seen that I’ve been trying to drink meself to a second death,” Spike yelled back just as angrily.
Angel regarded him for a long moment. Spike allowed him, hiding nothing from him.
“Will…” he finally murmured. “You should’ve come to me. I would’ve helped you.”
“What about Red?”
“I left her.”
“Oh…”
Angel lifted a hand to caress Spike’s face. The smaller man shivered.
“You’re cold,” he whispered.
Angel smiled but said nothing. Instead, he easily pulled Spike into his arms as if Spike weighed no more than a feather. Groggily, Spike noticed that he wasn’t even breathing hard.
Carrying his precious burden, Angel headed off into the summer night. As the darkness swallowed them, Spike heard his softly, murmured promise and smiled.
“I’ll always be here to carry you…no matter if you can make it by yourself or not…”
Title: Carry Me
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Angel/Willow
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Joss is God. We are all God’s creations so obviously, the characters do not belong to me.
Summary: Post NFA. How do you go on alone? Angsty piece.
Droplets fell upon his face as he wavered in and out of consciousness. When a pair of blue orbs shimmered across the horizons of his eyes, he knew these droplets were the tears he never saw. Yet, he felt confused. In his memories, the scene played out differently.
He remembered no tears - only pain and concern buried beneath chastisement.
“If you can’t make it by yourself, then you find someone to bloody well carry you!”
The arms remained the same. Strong, steady pillars holding him up and grounding him in his weakest hour. In his vulnerability, he had dared to answer the soft words with his own murmurs of love. But now, there was only the sound of falling tears.
If he could only hear the words once more…oh god, he longed to hear them though he didn’t deserve to. There was no one to blame but himself. A gift freely offered would be taken back, if refused. And refuse he did. Once recovered, he had no use for soft words. He had chased them away with blood, the finest wine of the forbidden - a more fitting gift for true vampires like him.
Ever since then, there had been no more words. Not for a long century of regret.
He opened his mouth to try to say something, anything but pain had stolen his voice. Instead, the tears poured into him and he swallowed them greedily as if he were a parched man lost in the desert. Only…they weren’t tears - they were rain.
************
From unconsciousness, he climbed his way back to blue eyes.
“Spike?” Angel croaked as he blinked blearily. He struggled to sit up but before the cold hands could touch him, he already knew.
“You are experiencing…disappointment, are you not, half-breed?” Illyria questioned with a trace of curiosity.
“My name is Angel,” he muttered, evading her sharp eyes. Instead, he stared around at the whitewashed walls. He was in a hospital.
“Is disappointment a normal reaction to the reception of a reward?” she mused.
Angel gritted his teeth. Of all the people, he had to be stuck with her.
“The healer stated that there would be no…scars…to mar your mortal shell.”
Belatedly, he realized that she was trying to comfort him by telling him that the healing had left him without a single scar. He wished it had.
Feeling the onset of bone deep grief, he hurriedly changed the topic. He could brood later. But right now, he had to know.
“Where’s Spike?” he demanded.
“I had pondered when you would question me as to the condition of your…intimate.”
“What?!?” Angel’s gaze snapped to hers sharply.
“Before our battle with the Senior Partners, he had informed me that ‘there was that one time’ when you were intimate. Is that not true?”
She tilted her head and peered at him expectantly. He had the feeling that she saw more than he could hide and that she actually understood what she saw.
Tired, and not just because of the fight, he allowed himself to lament.
“It was a long time ago.”
What he and the younger vampire had couldn’t be summed up by the word ‘intimate.’ No, what they had - it transcended blood, souls and demons.
For an eternity, Illyria simply regarded him silently and he let her. He had no strength and there was nobody left to carry him away. Not anymore.
“He has fallen,” she announced finally. Strangely enough, her tone was mournfully quiet.
Her words dispelled all hopes that his gut feeling was wrong. He would’ve cried except that at that moment, medical personnel streamed into the room. In all the confusion, Illyria slipped away and Angel felt truly alone.
One morning, he woke up to the gaze of a pair of green eyes.
“Angel, I’ve come to take you home.”
And home, it turned out, was New York City.
************
“What are you thinking of?” Willow asked as she climbed up onto the ledge next to him. It was like a little balcony, just big enough for two people to sit in safely.
He turned away from his contemplation of the quiet Brooklyn streets below him to face her lively green eyes. She, who had been sent to inform him regretfully that Buffy had moved on, had ended up being his savior. He always knew he could count on her to save his soul.
But as always she surprised him, gave him a purpose and a home. A brand new start.
“I was just thinking that I couldn’t have made it without you…” he admitted.
She smiled, eyes the wrong color but filled with warmth and understanding nonetheless.
“Hey, you’re a heavy burden to bear but I cheated and cast some spells,” she joked, “so I didn’t exactly carry you all the way.”
He couldn’t suppress a chuckle. Pulling her into his arms, he marveled at the gift he had been given. He breathed in the sweet, earthy scent of his lover - a mixture of innocence and darkness.
She understood him, knew what it was like to carry the guilt of bloodied hands. They were companions as well as lovers. She helped him and he helped her. Sometimes, he wondered why he had first fallen in love with Buffy and not her. Perhaps, he had been reminded of another who had the strength to carry him. But instead, he had found that Buffy expected him to carry her.
“Now that we’ve fulfilled our quota of brooding for the day, can we please go downstairs?” Willow teased. “Xander’s due any minute.”
Angel stiffened. Xander hid it well in front of her but Angel knew that for some reason, the brunette hated him more than ever now. He tightened his arms around her, wishing they could remain there forever, watching the sunset.
She pulled away to look at him.
“Angel?” she prompted.
With a sigh, he got up and they left the roof.
Xander was already waiting behind the front door. He embraced Willow and favored Angel with a smile that didn’t reach the one eye he had left.
Willow chattered excitedly and for her sake, Angel tried to make small talk. While Willow pattered around the kitchen cooking dinner for them, Angel opened a bottle of red wine and poured him and Xander each a glass full.
They took their drinks to the living room. Xander settled into the sofa, wincing as he moved away a cushion. He pulled his hand up and there was a small sewing needle stuck to one of his fingers.
“Oh, Willow must have dropped that earlier,” Angel explained apologetically. “Sorry.”
“Sewing for you, huh?” Xander asked, sounding faintly resentful as he pulled the needle out. A droplet of blood welled up from his tiny wound.
Grabbing a tissue, Angel reached for his hand in concern.
Xander jerked away violently.
“DON’T TOUCH MY BLOOD!” he screamed.
Angel froze at the raw hatred he saw in Xander’s eyes.
“I’m not a vampire anymore, Xander,” he said softly, face lined with pain.
Xander laughed bitterly.
“Yeah,” he muttered, “and yet you still get everything.”
He shoved away Willow who had rushed into the room anxiously. Without another word, he left the house.
“What happened?” Willow asked in a trembling voice.
“I don’t know,” Angel confessed. He sank down in his armchair with a heavy sigh, Xander’s harsh words echoing in his mind.
The next day, a phone call drew Willow away to Cleveland. Angel wanted to go too but Willow was worried about him. After Xander’s visit, he seemed to fold within himself. Willow argued that he was in no condition to be part of a fight now.
Though she didn’t say it, he heard it nonetheless. He was useless now. They didn’t need him. He would only be a liability and that was the real reason Willow didn’t want him to go.
Nothing she said could convince him otherwise. She almost didn’t go because she was so worried about his mental situation but she had heard real desperation in Faith’s tone. The good fight would have to come first. A fight he no longer had any part of, Angel thought bitterly.
The house felt so cold after she left. He didn’t want to stay in. Hopping on the subway, he went to Manhattan, hoping to drown his loneliness in the bright lights and crowds.
Choosing a random bar, he walked in and ordered a whiskey.
That was when he saw him.
************
Angel wanted to ask, to know, to understand but instead, he kissed. He wanted to profess his love but instead, he thrust harder. Never was much good with words anyway.
As they made love on the bed where Angel had first broken down and let Willow in, Spike heard the words underlying the artistry of their bodies. With every writhe and every moan, he felt his heartbeat echo with their passion. Their love.
It was powerful and uncontrollable as the fury of the storm that raged outside. For over a century, it had been denied and suppressed, the pressure slowly building up inside, and eventually it gained the strength to break free from its dam. The force of its liberation swept through them and cleansed their souls, making way for the beginnings of a new connection.
In the aftermath, they lay together replete and exhausted. Then, a sudden hitch turned into a full fledged sob and Angel tore away from Spike, running up to the roof. His trembling knees gave out and he fell to the ground, allowing the rain to lash him into submission. It seemed fitting, somehow.
“Oh Christ on a cross! Are you bloody mad?” Spike demanded, footsteps splashing around to Angel.
The brunette rolled over to stare at his lover. Despite the torrential downpour, he tried to keep his eyes and mouth open.
“I thought you…” he hiccupped. “She…”
“Whatever it is, come back inside first, will ya?” Spike barked though a hint of pleading softened his tone.
Angel allowed himself to be tugged inside and dried with a fluffy white towel. He sat sniffling on the bed while Spike paced.
“Suppose you wanna know what happened then,” Spike said with a sigh.
A nod confirmed his guess.
“We defeated them. Against all the bloody odds, we took the fuckers down. Then, you got your bloody reward and promptly collapsed. Always leave me to take care of your soddin’ messes, eh?”
Spike paused to glance at Angel with a not-quite-smile.
“Had to carry your lard arse to the hospital. Only…I didn’t get very far before I collapsed as well. Bloody Powers. Blue couldn’t carry the both of us and since you looked worse than I did, she took you to the hospital and came back for me later. But by the time she got back, someone had already found me. The ambulance took me off to another hospital and I was out of it for a few days.”
“But I was in London when I woke up,” Angel interrupted in confusion.
“Blue told me later that Red mojo’d in and took your body. Seemed like the Watcher didn’t want anyone else getting their mittens on you first,” Spike explained, with a hint of bitterness.
“What about you?”
“Blue didn’t tell them about me.”
“She didn’t?”
“Told her not to, in the alley.” Spike looked away. “Wasn’t me she wanted, was it now?”
“You couldn’t have known…”
Spike chuckled without amusement. “’M not daft, mate. Know when ‘m not wanted.”
“Spike…”
“Cor, if I knew she didn’t want you either, would’ve contacted them and had Red fix me up all quick like. Hate the bloody hospitals.”
“So all this time…you thought I was with her?”
“Nah, Blue told me you’d left with Red.”
“Why didn’t you come find me?” Angel’s voice trembled. All this time, he had grieved and Spike had been walking around doing God knows what.
Spike snorted. “Like you tried to bloody find me and explain, mate.”
“Illyria told me you were dead.”
Shocked, Spike fell silent. Angel looked away, the tears threatening again.
“’M gonna find her and rip her lungs out,” Spike growled.
“Well,” Angel rubbed his face tiredly, “actually she said you had fallen and I assumed…”
“…Oh…”
“Yeah…”
Spike sighed. “We’re a sorry lot, you and I.” He shook his head sadly and sank onto the bed next to Angel. “Well then…what have you been bloody up to?”
“Nothing much,” Angel lied.
“So you haven’t been with Red then…” Spike said, suddenly solemn.
“Willow?” Angel laughed nervously.
“Her piccie is right there on the nightstand, you know.”
“Oh…” Angel fidgeted but made no further contribution to the conversation.
Spike faltered. Had he been wrong? Perhaps, that had not been love that he had felt before when they shagged each other damn near senseless. Maybe he had simply deluded himself.
“Well then,” he said falsely nonchalant as he got up and began tugging on his clothes, hands shaking imperceptibly in the dark. “It was nice and all but I better get going. Got things to do, people to…not see…”
“You’re just going to leave?”
Refusing to turn to Angel, he stated bitterly, “Nothing left for me here, is there?”
“There’s me...” Angel’s voice was so soft that it was nearly drowned out by the thundering rain outside.
“But…Red…”
Vulnerable blue eyes turned to meet brown ones.
“I’ll talk to her,” Angel promised.
Spike nodded slowly and stayed.
It was as if the world was made new. They behaved like young lovers, constantly together and laughing at each other for no apparent reason. The days, they spent wandering around the city and the nights, they fused together under the stars on the roof. Neither noticed their stalker, so intent they were on each other’s happiness.
When Willow called and said tiredly that she needed to stay for longer than expected, Angel had to struggle to keep the joy out of his voice. After hanging up, he turned to Spike happily but faltered at the mixture of guilt and worry on his lover’s face. Spike offered to leave. But, Angel wouldn’t let him. A century apart had been enough. Willow would understand.
One morning, Angel woke up to find himself alone. His heart leapt in his chest. Had it all been a dream? He jumped to his feet and thankfully, found a note on the nightstand:
Had some personal stuff to take care of. Will be back before nightfall.
-Will
Angel relaxed. He pattered happily around the house, humming to himself. Maybe he ought to do some work. It had been a week since Willow left and he hadn’t touched the translations once. He should finish them before Giles decided to fire him.
Checking the clock more and more often as night approached, he tried to distract himself with thoughts of the future. They’d obviously have to move out when Willow came back. It wouldn’t be fair to ask her to, since they were the ones in the wrong. But then what? He could continue his job with the Council and maybe he could ask Giles to hire Spike as well. Surely, Giles would help them, right?
Dinner hour came and went. Angel sat there, his meal barely touched as his stomach twisted in knots. Some unexpected complications probably came up or Spike had met an old friend or something. Still, a responsible lover would call.
Angel laughed at himself. Responsible? That was not a word anyone would use to describe Spike. But really, he shouldn’t worry so much. Spike could take of himself, had done it for a hundred years. He would be back later tonight or tomorrow morning.
Taking a shower, he climbed into bed and tried to read a book. He kept being distracted by the empty spot next to him. It was strange to be without his hyperactive lover. Eventually, he fell asleep, firm in his belief that when he woke up, Spike would be there.
***********
Morning and still no Spike. Angel’s worries flooded back. Unable to stand being in the house alone, he went out to the supermarket to do some grocery shopping. If Spike wasn’t back by the afternoon, he would call the police.
Eating at a quaint little café, he decided that he would bring Spike back there. It was cheap and delicious, and the owners were friendly. They had spent so much time exploring Manhattan that they didn’t realize there were treasures to be found in their own neighborhood.
He finally returned home, trying to keep his hopes clamped down. Seeing the keys on the counter, he nearly whooped with joy. Pounding up the stairs, he searched for his errant lover, smiling at the thought of punishment. Not in the bedroom. Ah, the roof.
Emerging into the blinding early afternoon sunlight, he had to shade his eyes with his hands. He could make out the form of a man sitting on the ledge.
“Spike!” he yelled.
“Guess again…” came another man’s voice.
“Xander?!?” Angel exclaimed in disbelief. He headed towards the man but Xander suddenly got up on the ledge.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll jump,” he threatened.
Angel froze. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” he demanded.
Xander chuckled, a choked tune filled with unmitigated hate.
“You!” he shouted angrily. “That’s what’s wrong with me!”
“What?” Angel stated in confusion.
“You always take everything! You took Buffy and now you’ve taken Willow!” Xander cried in frustration. “What do have against me?”
“I-“
“So now I’ve taken something of yours.”
Angel’s blood ran cold. The malevolent gleam in Xander’s eyes scared him.
“What did you to do to him?” he demanded in a shaky voice.
“We had a real good time catching up, if you catch my drift here. Had some good laughs at your expense. Didn’t think you’d fall for it at first but then Spike knew better. All that time you played innocent in front of the girls when really, you were an asshole inside. You already had Willow but it wasn’t enough, was it? She didn’t satisfy you so you jumped at the chance to fuck your old buddy Spike when he came to town. Now, he’s upped and left you. Now, you know how it feels to have everything you want taken away.”
“You lie!” Angel yelled heatedly, trembling with fury. He wanted to cover his ears. It couldn’t be true, could it?
Xander laughed. “I win, Deadboy!” he shouted gleefully and deliberately plunged off the roof.
Angel raced to the ledge but it was too late. On the pavement below, Xander lay broken and lifeless. His triumphant grin, however, remained with him, immortalized forever in death.
Stunned, Angel dialed the number for the police. They came, asked him questions and took the body away. The death was ruled as a suicide. It was all taken care of. The only thing left to do was tell Willow.
He needed to hear her sweet voice, to listen to her tell him that everything was ok. Losing Spike and watching Xander die had broken his walls down. All the pain and memories of his former life as a vampire flooded into him. He knew Xander had spoken the truth. It was what he deserved. Why would Spike want him after he had so callously left his childe all those years ago?
It was revenge - that was what it was. He was meant to suffer, to know what it was like to be betrayed by the one you love when you had given all you could give. Spike, no, William had once carried him to safety and nourished him with words of love. In return, he had offered nothing but grief.
Suddenly stiffening, Angel tried to remember if Xander had said whether or not he had told Willow about Spike. Pacing fearfully around for hours, Angel cast torturous glances at the telephone. Would she throw him out too, leave him to wander around aimlessly until he killed himself or Spike or her or all three of them?
He couldn’t exist, not without her cocoon of love.
Love - that was it!
Xander loved Willow too much to tell her. He knew that it would hurt her deeply and he never wanted to make her sad. Just like he had never showed his disdain for Angel in front of her because he wanted to make her happy.
Angel was elated and ashamed at his elation. He didn’t deserve Willow but he needed her.
************
“Are you sure you’ll be ok by yourself, sweetie?”
Angel smiled at his fiancée.
“Willow, I’m just going to London,” he reassured her. “Giles will be there.”
It had been two years after Xander’s death. They had moved to Cleveland, leaving New York and the horrible memories behind. Angel had healed mostly. He was content with his life. But Willow fretted over him constantly. She felt that something had changed. After a year of therapy with a trusted demon psychiatrist, Angel had worked out most of the issues that had plagued him since he Shanshued and on the surface, he seemed like the perfect, doting boyfriend. However, the sense of connection between them from before the Cleveland trip had vanished. Willow could no longer reach him. All her friends either told her it would take time or that she was making a big deal out of nothing. He was charming, intelligent, affectionate - what more could she want?
Pushing her worries away, she pasted a weak smile on her face. If only she could accompany him. She really didn’t want him to go by himself. But then, she was needed here and Giles needed Angel. Angel was the world’s foremost expert on Drusilla and the new Watchers could benefit a lot from his knowledge.
“I love you,” Angel whispered almost regretfully, pulling her into a fierce hug one last time before getting on the plane.
Little did she know, it would be the last time she would see him. Two days later, a grieving Giles called her. Angel had disappeared.
Willow flew over to London. Buffy, Faith and other friends she had met over the years gathered together to help in the search. After months of fruitless toil, they eventually left the matter in the hands of the police but Willow stayed with Giles, unwilling to go back to her house where she had shared so many memories with Angel.
She wandered around London, a shadow of her former self. One day, she was found in a ditch with her neck broken. Giles felt a deep sense of unease but there seemed to be nothing suspicious about the killing.
Then, he himself died a few days later, apparently from taking too many sleeping pills. His death left the Council floundering and Buffy had her hands full. She was too busy to notice the increasing number of nightly deaths in London. All the bodies were mangled beyond imagination and even the coroners had trouble finding out what was the cause of death.
Londoners continued to party though, as if the horrible deaths had taken place in another city. The gay clubs continued to fill with people. There had been rumors of a new hottie in town. The stranger partied with the best of them but never took anybody home. One night, as he left the club Hypnotic, a shadow peeled away to trail after him.
The stumbling, clearly drunk man collapsed in front of his apartment building. His stalker prowled closer.
“Bloody stop where you are,” the drunk slurred a little. “Can’t do nothin’ with me. I’ve got AIDS, mate.”
“Do you now, Will?”
A beat of silence and then Spike’s trembling voice queried, “Angel?”
He blinked blearily into the darkness, barely making out the form of a huge, hulking creature.
Stepping into the light, the stalker revealed himself. He was indeed Angel.
Bending down to bring their faces closer, Angel repeated softly, “Do you really have AIDS, Will?”
Spike swallowed hard but nodded. Angel noticed how pale he was.
“How?”
“The whelp gave it to me.”
“Xander had AIDS?”
Angel hissed angrily. He dragged Spike up and slammed the smaller man against the wall.
“You did fuck him, you ungrateful son of a bitch!” he spat.
“No!” Spike gasped, struggling for breath. “Would I do that to you?”
Angel’s grip on him loosened slightly. “Then how?”
“Bastard stuck me with a bloody needle,” Spike stated with a bitter chuckle, “and told me afterwards.”
Angel reeled as if punched and let go of his quarry. Without his grip, Spike slumped to the ground.
All the pieces fell into place. Xander’s anger and bitterness and his outburst about not touching his blood - it all made sense. That was why he hated Angel because Angel had it all - a home, a girlfriend and a future. Meanwhile, he couldn’t ever be with anyone he loved without the risk of passing the disease to them. When he saw Angel cheating on Willow, he snapped. He was determined to destroy the two former vampires who had gotten what he should have deserved.
“But how could he have gotten AIDS?” Angel wondered out loud.
“Well, he did spend time in bleedin’ Africa,” Spike muttered.
Angel bent down beside him again, tone much gentler now than before. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
Spike looked into his soft chocolate eyes. “’Cause I didn’t want you to suffer, you git,” he said sadly, tears prickling his eyes.
Angel felt his eyes start to burn as well. Spike’s confession unwittingly echoed the reason he had left Spike all those years ago.
“You deserve a future, with someone who could make you happy but I knew that if I stayed, you would’ve done the noble thing and taken care of me. I didn’t want that. And I didn’t trust meself. Couldn’t be close and not shag you so I left.”
Angel’s expression hardened. “Is that why you’re out every night partying? Because you were trying to forget me?” he hissed.
Spike frowned. “How long you been watching me, luv?”
“Long enough.”
“Then you should’ve bloody seen that I’ve been trying to drink meself to a second death,” Spike yelled back just as angrily.
Angel regarded him for a long moment. Spike allowed him, hiding nothing from him.
“Will…” he finally murmured. “You should’ve come to me. I would’ve helped you.”
“What about Red?”
“I left her.”
“Oh…”
Angel lifted a hand to caress Spike’s face. The smaller man shivered.
“You’re cold,” he whispered.
Angel smiled but said nothing. Instead, he easily pulled Spike into his arms as if Spike weighed no more than a feather. Groggily, Spike noticed that he wasn’t even breathing hard.
Carrying his precious burden, Angel headed off into the summer night. As the darkness swallowed them, Spike heard his softly, murmured promise and smiled.
“I’ll always be here to carry you…no matter if you can make it by yourself or not…”