Fic: The Sound of Silence
Well, here it finally is, my entry for the spring_spangel ficathon. 4 days late. I am so very sorry about that but the original fic I planned for this event suddenly died on me and I had to find something new in two days. With a sick kid and other RL shit thrown at me that proved too hard. However since there was no one scheduled for today I hope you will all forgive me. This is set during AtS s5 somewhere between Destiny and A Hole in the World.
Title: The Sound of Silence
Pairing: Spike/Angel obviously
Rating: Adult
Summary: Spike is having trouble dealing with his new unlife.
Author's note: Title obviously taken from the song by Simon and Garfunkel. Thanks to miss_c667 for looking it over and saying it wasn't rubbish. *smooch*
The Sound of Silence
He was slowly losing it. This he knew, after all it was pretty obvious, with the voices and the hallucinations and the diediedie mantra echoing in his head. If someone had asked him why, he wouldn’t have been entirely sure. Was it because he never really felt himself after he came back? Was it because he just felt tired of it all; the distrusting looks, the fact that no one cared, the bickering with Angel?
Angel. Was it because he was finally realising that there was no chance of anything between them again? That he was finally seeing Angel’s looks for what they were, hearing his words the way they were really intended. Finally realising that there was no hidden agenda or meaning, no lust behind the anger, no denial behind the contempt? He had to admit, that was probably the biggest part.
For so long he had been fooling himself, thinking it was just a wall they were building up brick by brick with every word and then would smash together when they finally recognised it for what it was. But he knew better now. Now for each brick put up there was another voice added to the whispers in his head, telling him how much he was actually hated and despised, how utterly useless he was to everyone. Especially Angel.
And they were getting so many now, the voices. He didn’t care so much about the ones of his victims, he was rather used to them by now and after all he had early on accepted that he deserved every word they hissed. The others though, Buffy (“Ask me again why I could never love you.”), Dawn (“You sleep, right?”), Xander (“Why are we not killing him, again?”) and Angel, Angel, Angel. (Get the hell away from me, Spike.) All the time, whispering, spitting out words like venom, screaming in his ears in his sleep. He’d wake up sweating and gasping for air he could never remember he didn’t need, nails clawing at his chest, stomach tight as a knot.
Ever since he got back they had been getting louder and angrier, cutting him deeper each day. He tried his best to suppress them when he was with the others, stumbling as they swallowed him as soon as he was alone again. He thought of telling someone (Angel, Angel) but every time he tried to approach him they ended up fighting even more and the wall got bigger, the whispers tuned up to screams. And at last he gave in.
Funny how easy it was to just stop. Wasn’t a deliberate thing. He just caught himself staring at the blood in his mug one afternoon and it dawned on him that he had no desire for it whatsoever. Not because it tasted like tar, not because it reminded him of killing - he deliberately never thought of that anymore - he simply didn’t want it. So he poured it into the sink and turned on the tap, watching the red liquid swirl down the drain. And that was it.
There was no hunger, just an occasional cramp in his stomach but that passed. He did however feel himself weakening. Little at first but as each day passed his limbs felt heavier. Enough to affect him in fights. He’d gotten close to being ripped open a few times. Once Wesley saved him, another time Gunn, both of them giving him strange looks but nothing more. But never Angel. Angel shouted at him to stop fucking around and concentrate. He wanted to yell back that he was trying but it was just too damn hard but instead he shook his head until his vision cleared and rushed back into the fight.
Once he woke up though, slumped against the wall with an irritated Angel watching over him. And he felt so grateful. When he got to his feet he almost fell over and for a flicker of a second he imagined there was a look of concern on his Sire’s face but when he managed to focus all he could see was annoyance. As Spike followed Angel through the sewers he wished that just for once he would stop and look at him. Really look at him. Not with hate or disgust or annoyance but just look and see him. But he never did.
He was getting thinner, obviously, but the coat covered that. Always had a bony face and no one looked him in the eye anyway. And so time passed, day after day. He didn’t even know how long it had been. Days? Weeks? Months? Time seemed to float rather than pass like he was swimming through liquid pain, each stroke being harder and harder. People walked by, some even talked to him, but they were blurred and at the end of the day he couldn’t remember any of it.
One day he fell over when he was getting out of the chair in Angel’s office. He should have felt embarrassed but he was too tired to care. Angel gave him a smug smile and asked if he needed a hand. He just looked at him with a frown, not getting the joke because he really did need one. Struggling to his feet he ignored the usual remarks about him being drunk and slowly walked out without a word. He could feel Lorne looking at him as they passed each other in the hall way but he kept walking until he was inside the elevator. Once the door slid shut he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Suppose it was time. He doubted they would miss him.
As it was he’d been lying in bed for two days when Angel barged in and told him to get his drunken ass out of bed, he was needed in a fight. The old rebellious Spike wanted to object, tell him that he hadn’t had a drop, didn’t have the money for it anyway. But instead he stumbled out of bed, sighing with relief when Angel turned away and stalked out. Wouldn’t want him to see... But would he really notice?
He was feeling faint and very cold as he tried his best to keep up with Angel. Sometimes he had to blink to be able to focus on where he was and where they were going and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember what it was they were about to face. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t have the strength and as long as those demons didn’t turn out to be 6” gnomes he was pretty much done for. Not that it mattered.
They met up with Wes and Gunn in the sewers and he was glad for the dark because for a short moment Wesley’s eyes lingered on him. But then Angel shouted at them to hurry up and again he was trying not to fall behind.
As they came around the corner they walked right into an ambush. The creature, huge and covered in spikes, slammed Angel into the wall before turning to the others. What followed was a blur of movements and pain. More than once Spike thought of just dropping the axe and sinking to his knees. But then he saw Wes stumbling or Gunn falling back and he managed to keep going. At one point his coat got caught on one of the demon’s spikes and he had to struggle out of it to get free.
Finally it came to that point where he felt the last strength escape his limbs. His t-shirt was torn open, blood trickling in thick drops down his scratched torso. He looked around dazed. There was Gunn, hacking away at the creature’s back and Wes, slowly getting back up after being thrown to the side and Angel… Angel was just standing there, staring at him. Spike started to look away but then he saw the demon turn around and swing its massive spiked tail. Without thinking he launched forward and pushed Angel out of the way. Then nothing.
~~~~~
The first thing he noticed was the pain around his middle. Like something had tried to rip his spine out. Maybe it had. The next thing he noticed was the smell. Above everything, even the foul sewer stink, was the smell of blood. His own blood. It would have made him growl if he hadn’t been too weak to even breathe. But mixed into it was the smell of Angel. That’s when he noticed he was being carried, clutched against a cold tense chest, his head lolling on a broad shoulder. He tried to open his eyes but they wouldn’t obey him and after a while he gave up and relaxed into the secure embrace.
He must have passed out again because the next thing he knew he was lying on a bed, muffled voices arguing nearby. He tried to make out the words but he didn’t seem able to concentrate. Until he heard Angel shout in anger: ‘I don’t fucking care, I’m not staking him!’
‘Just do it,’ he wanted to say, ‘please.’ But there was no strength left for anything. And not really any pain either. But God, the cold. He was so cold. So bone freezing cold that Angelangelangel’s palm against his cheek felt warm to the touch.
He longed to lean into that touch, open his eyes and tell him… something. What was it again? His mind was all muddled and he didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything except Angel’s hand cupping his cheek and his fingers running through his hair.
“You stupid, stupid boy. Why? Why on earth did you do this to yourself?”
Angel’s voice had never been so gentle toward him and he wanted to cry and tell him ‘Because. Because I was disappearing anyway. Because I wanted you to see me. Because I was so tired. Because you couldn’t hear me shouting for your help. Because…’ Then the darkness swallowed him again.
After that he drifted in and out, getting lost in time. Consciousness was marked by Angel’s absence or presence. The former filling him with panic, the latter making him want to weep. He thought he could feel some strength rebuilding but it was too small to tell and for all he knew he could be imagining the whole thing. Because that seemed to be the only part of him that still worked, filling his head with images and words. Playing memories of blood and death and touch and love.
So he didn’t really know if the words he could hear Angel saying were real or just in his head. If the blood that he swallowed was what it tasted like. Or if that kiss on his lips was made by flesh or just the ghost of it. Most of all he wished he could see Angel’s face.
~~~~~~
It was so hard. So hard he thought of giving up a number of times but in the end he managed it. And then had to fight to keep them open because it was so bright. Instinct screamed at him to cover before the sun burned him up until reason told him all he was seeing was the soft light of a bedside lamp. The ceiling looked familiar but he didn’t know why. A few seconds later his eyes closed again, exhausted by the effort.
~~~~~~
Took him a long time before he could open them again. This time he wasn’t alone but whoever was there (Angel, he just knew it was Angel) wasn’t in his line of sight and however hard he tried he couldn’t turn his head or move it at all. After a few minutes he gave up and fell asleep.
~~~~~~
Struggling once again to see he blinked and stared right into big brown eyes, gazing down at him. Thank you, he prayed to whatever God might be listening. He tried to open his mouth but nothing happened and so he lay like that staring up at his creator. He smelled salt in the air but his vision was too blurred to know if they were his own or Angel’s. When Angel reached down and kissed his cheek his eyes shut involuntarily and however much he tried he couldn’t open them again. He thought he could hear Angel whispering in the distance but he couldn’t make out the words. But it was enough to lull him into dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel sat back and watched as Spike’s face went slack and within moments he was asleep. It hadn’t been much but just to see those blue eyes looking up at him was enough for now. Like a tiny miracle after two weeks of nothing but cold silence. Sighing he reached out and stroke a lock of hair away from the grey face.
Spike had always been pale, paler than he himself had ever been, but now he seemed almost translucent. The creature’s spiky tail had ripped into his abdomen and he had lost so much blood that Angel saw him fade away before his eyes. Biting back the guilt he uncovered the limp body and made sure the bandages were still dry. The first days whatever they tried to feed him had just seemed to seep out faster than it came in. The wound just refused to heal and Angel knew very well why. There was no strength left, but above all, there was no will.
The moment in the battle when he had looked back to see how the others were doing… Wes was ok, Gunn was ok, Spike… Spike stumbled to his feet and stood there swaying and Angel froze in his tracks. Spike was definitely not ok. The pale chest was hollowed; the stomach caved in and in his circled eyes there was nothing but resignation. Like he was just waiting to die.
Like a flash Angel played the last few weeks through his mind and it hit him like a punch in the gut. Oh god, how could he have been so stupid, so fucking arrogant? Feeling his eyes on him Spike looked up. The whole battlefield seemed to fade away and for the first time in longer than he cared to remember Angel felt the old bond, pulsating and vibrating between them. He opened his mouth to say something but before he even had time to decide what Spike came toward him in a flurry and he was thrown into the wall a quarter of a second before Spike went airborne, impaled on the creatures spiky tail.
He didn’t remember much of the battle after that except screaming and yelling and hacking away like a maniac. When it was finally over he didn’t waste any time. Spike was lying on the ground, clothes soaked through by sewer water and blood. His guts were hanging out and his head was at an impossible angle. With trembling hands Angel pushed the organs back inside and as gently as he could lifted Spike up, clutching him to his chest. Ignoring the pain and exhaustion he carried him through the tunnels, the smell of blood for once making him feel sick instead of hungry.
The operation had taken hours that he spent pacing the floors, cursing himself and Spike for being such idiots. Wes had watched him warily, not asking any questions; like this was something he had been waiting for to happen. Not the near death thing but Angel’s revelation. At one time Angel had stopped and turned to him, anger and desperation in his eyes, asking him “Did you know?” and at Wes’ silent response slumped in self-disgust.
After a long moment of silence Angel came and sat down by Wesley’s side, wringing his hands. “I forgot. I forgot who he was and what he was like because I didn’t want to remember. It was easier, seeing him as a nuisance; someone sent here to annoy me. I didn’t want to think of what it all meant to him.”
Wes frowned. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Yes I can. And I should. He’s my responsibility and I failed him.”
“He’s a grown man, Angel. He’s survived without you for over a hundred years.”
Angel looked away. “Yes, Wes. Thank you so much for reminding me of my failures. But this is different. This is… I did this to him. I could have helped him and I didn’t, in fact I did my best to make him feel unwanted.”
“Well, he’s not exactly the most approachable person I know. He does send off that I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-arse vibe.”
Despite everything Angel couldn’t help smiling. He sat quiet for a while, glancing at the door to the operation room every now and then. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a more insecure and sensitive person. So… human.”
Wes blinked. “We are talking about Spike, Angel.”
“Exactly. Like I said, I should have remembered.”
They didn’t speak much after that and when the doctors came out saying they had put things in their right places and stitched him up but for all they knew it wouldn’t make a damn difference he’d stormed to Spike’s bed and hadn’t left it for more than a couple of hours since then. He had Spike moved up to the penthouse; if anyone found that strange they didn’t comment on it. And there he had been lying completely motionless for two weeks now.
After two days of constant blood loss Angel had finally cursed and stormed to the phone, ordering a generous supply of human blood from the blood bank. He’d ignored Wesley’s concerned look and when the order came he drank down two pints then ripped open his wrist and pressed it to Spike’s lips. The few seconds it took for him to respond seemed like a lifetime. But then he felt a weak sucking and with a sigh he closed his eyes. When he opened them again Wes was gone and the room was dark. Since then the healing had been slow but definite and although the feeding made Angel feel emotions he refused to analyse he kept it up, telling himself this was what Spike needed.
A few times Angel thought he’d detected some kind of awareness, although there was no change. Just something that made him think Spike might be awake. Once he’d been sitting in the chair reading and felt a ripple in the air of something akin to sadness and when he looked up he just caught Spike’s eyes closing. No matter how much he tried talking to him they didn’t open again. Until now.
Smiling Angel stood up and walked into the kitchen. Time for a drink.
~~~~~~~
He had never imagined it could be so difficult to communicate. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for being a creature of silence. They had gone by on two blinks for yes and one for no for too long. It left him frustrated, having to rely on Angel who never seemed to ask him anything important. Instead he got endless questions about if he was hungry (blink-blink) or if he was in pain (blink) or if he understood what Angel was saying (I’m blinking my sodding eyes, aren’t I?). If he’d been able to move so much as a pinky he would have poked Angel hard, as long as he came close enough, that is.
The whole vegetable state was driving him insane. He could feel his nerves fidgeting but nothing happened when he tried to make them do something more than irritate him. The stupid thing was that he could feel himself healing, like power ants crawling over and under his skin, bringing him strength. But no matter how much energy he felt boiling inside him he. Just. Couldn’t. Move.
What he didn’t want to admit was how much it scared him. There was something very wrong and no one seemed to know what it was. Or they weren’t telling him. Which was actually more terrifying than anything. He tried to search Angel’s eyes for answers but all he got was the usual “What? Are you hungry?” and short of rolling his eyes there wasn’t much he could do. Except accept the offer because feeding of Angel was the closest thing he got to wanking and bugger it, how did those paralysed humans stand it? Maybe they didn’t feel anything, something he did not have the luxury off. He felt it all, the swelling off his cock, the tingling in his balls and then the agonising wait for everything to go away after Angel had pried him off his wrist and disappeared into the bathroom. Did he honestly think Spike didn’t know? That he didn’t smell it, didn’t hear it, didn’t bloody well feel it like a wave of agonising bliss?
But he... He was left lying here, practically bursting out of his skin. Didn’t help visioning Angel behind the locked door, jerking off like a shameful choirboy, the stimulation was never enough to get him off, it only made his balls ache worse.
No, Spike was not a happy puppy.
Although he had to admit it did feel good knowing that Angel after all seemed to care enough to look after him like this. They hadn’t talked about it… Correction, Angel hadn’t talked about it, just went around like this was the most normal thing in the world going from ‘Fuck off, Spike, you useless waste of space’ to ‘How are you feeling? Are you hungry?’ in a matter of days. It was all very confusing. He had a dim memory of Angel mumbling some sweet words of comfort and regret into his ear but that could have been a dream.
Talking about dreams. The nightmares were not as frequent anymore. And when they came they were often cut short and replaced with dreams of soft hands stroking his hair that then turned into erotic dreams of hands and lips in quite different places. To add even more confusion Angel had started sleeping in the bed beside him. Guess the chair wasn’t very comfy in the long run. Not that he minded, especially since soon after Angel fell asleep he rolled over and a strong arm sneaked across his abdomen, mouth breathing softly into his ear. He would have whimpered if he could.
The voices were still speaking to him but all he had to do was remember Angel’s hand on his cheek or his eyes watching him and what they were saying didn’t matter as much any more. Because however useless and evil they told him he was he knew if it was really true Angel wouldn’t be there. And for some reason Angel’s opinion meant more to him than all the voices in the world.
~~~~~~
Things were going well. Sure Spike wasn’t moving yet or talking but they had found a way of communicating and at least that was something. He seemed frustrated though and the eye rolls reminded him off the old Spike so much Angel couldn’t help smiling. But he understood him well, it must be hell not being able to move around or say what he felt. Truth be told, Spike quiet was a lot less satisfying than he had thought it would be. He kinda missed the old snarky comments and witty remarks. Especially when he realised how long it had actually been since he’d heard them.
He wanted to talk to Spike about that. Tell him how sorry he was, how he had totally screwed up. He should have known how troubled he was, should have sensed his loneliness, seen his desperation. But every time he sat down Spike looked up at him with those blue eyes and he couldn’t. Wouldn’t be fair anyway, pouring his guilt out over someone who couldn’t even tell him that there was no way in hell he could forgive him. So he didn’t say anything. Better wait until Spike was his old self.
He wasn’t sure how he knew but many times he woke up in the middle of the night to find Spike wildly shifting his eyes like he was looking for a way out or searching the room for whatever had disturbed his sleep. Only thing that seemed to sooth him was feeling Angel’s presence so he started sleeping on the bed to be ready to calm him down at first sign of trouble. For some reason their nights were a lot more peaceful after that.
He was still feeding Spike from his wrist. He probably didn’t need to but the one time Angel had suggested that Spike try and drink with a straw his eyes had shown such distress that he’d abandoned the idea. Solely for Spike of course. It had nothing to do with the way his own heart raced and his cock swelled and… nope not at all.
Spike seemed to receive some pleasure from it as well, the look on his face as he suckled was so blissful and Angel wondered what thoughts went on behind the closed eyes. Some kind of erotica he guessed because typically of Spike the only thing he could move was his cock and the longer Spike fed, the prouder it stood, tenting the covers. It was probably just a natural reaction, the blood calling to his primal instincts. Had nothing to do with whom he was feeding from. Nothing at all. Didn’t stop Angel from fantasising about him as he jerked off in the shower though. And he seemed to take an awful lot of showers recently.
~~~~~~~~
Just as he was coming out of the bathroom one day, he found Wes sitting on Spike’s bed, smiling.
“Angel, there you are. I was just telling Spike I think we might have found a way to cure him.” Wes waved a sheet of paper enthusiastically. “I’ve been doing some research into that specific species and then we went and collected some specimen from the scene. Fred found poison in the creature’s spikes. Quite strong and usually deadly since it paralysis the whole body, including the heart and lunges. Thank god you were dead already.” He smiled at Spike who only rolled his eyes but he did seem a bit more cheerful than usual. “She’s working on an antidote as we speak.”
Angel blinked. He was relieved, of course he was, but at the same time he felt a bit… uneasy. The past weeks were the closest he’d come to having someone live with him since before the soul. But now, as soon as he was cured, Spike would be able to take care of himself and didn’t need him anymore. Which he supposed was a good thing. He had work to do, lives to save and all that. And Spike… Spike was probably pretty sick of him by now.
He kept his thoughts hidden behind a brisk façade and came forward, nodding at Wes. “Good. About time. I’m sure Spike will be more than glad to get out of here.” Wesley smiled but Spike only stared up at him, pupils tiny as dots. When Angel gave him a forced smile he averted his eyes and Angel’s heart sank even further.
It took Fred a couple of days to brew the antidote, days Angel spent more or less at the office, only coming home to feed Spike and then late at night sliding into the bed beside him, falling asleep all stiff and uncomfortable, waking up curled around Spike’s limp body. Spike kept watching him silently and he wished he knew what he was thinking. Except he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
When Fred called him to say the antidote was ready he went up to the apartment, then paced the room, sitting down by Spike’s side every now and then but standing up just as swiftly when Spike stared at him. Finally there was a knock on the door and a shy Fred popped her head in. He stood by the door as she injected the white liquid into Spike’s arm, not sure whether he should stay or go. Within ten minutes Spike was moving his toes and when Fred smiled at him he grinned back, a lopsided grin but definitely a grin.
Seeing the blank face slowly gain life had a very confusing effect on Angel. Each twitch of a taunt nerve and tiny ripple of a muscle moving under smooth skin twisted his stomach further. When Spike slowly stretched his fingers Angel turned around and left the room.
He sat on the couch, staring out of the huge windows as the sun descended, bathing him in red and golden strands of light. He heard Fred talking in the bedroom and when she was finally answered by a voice raw and strange but still so painfully familiar he closed his eyes. They talked for a while and then there was silence.
Ten minutes later she came out and stood for a moment by Angel’s side but he didn’t open his eyes. He could smell Spike all over her. And suddenly the previous silence took on much more meaning. He wondered if he kissed her would she taste like Spike? His fingers longed to grab her wrist and drag her into his lap, so he could sniff the evidence of her skin. He shivered slightly.
“He’s going to be all right, Angel. But maybe… maybe you two should talk.”
He didn’t answer. After a while she left. The sun dropped even lower and the apartment faded into darkness.
“So… what now?”
~~~~~~~~
Since the day that Wes had come and told them they had found a solution everything had gone… wrong. Angel was wrong, he was wrong, whatever they had between them was wrong. He couldn’t wait to be able to move, to talk, to damn well kiss Angel and tell him… But Angel clearly didn’t feel that way. He became withdrawn and cold and Spike started doubting there ever had been anything. That it was all in his head, a bond brought on by the blood and the loneliness and had nothing to do with who he was or what he was to Angel.
Angel still fed him from his wrist but there was no pleasure in it anymore because Angel was too distant, too removed for him to even feel him. Like he was a bloody cow being milked. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting release because there was nothing to get release from. Nothing. For either of them.
The nightmares came back with a vengeance, making him scream inwardly but he couldn’t even cry out, couldn’t hide his face, couldn’t beg Angel to please help him. When Angel finally came to bed he stayed far away from Spike like he was contagious. Until he fell asleep that is. Then it didn’t take him long to wrap his arm around him and it was like before all the wrongness. Except it only made Spike feel worse because however much Angel’s sub-consciousness seemed to like his company, awake and aware he clearly didn’t.
And then the day finally came. He felt a little scared, not knowing if it would actually work or maybe just make him worse. He tried catching Angel’s eye, asking him to stay with him but Angel stood far away, watching them coldly. Slowly Spike felt the antidote work; nerves twitching in his limbs, itchy and irritating but so fucking good that he couldn’t help smiling. He tried to reach out to Angel but when he looked up he was gone.
Fred stayed with him, chatting away like this was the most exciting thing she’d done since… well, probably her last experiment. The girl really needed to get out more. The tingling travelled from his limbs and into his torso and when it reached his lunges he took a deep breath and then coughed for two good minutes. She handed him a glass of water and then caught it as it slipped from his fingers. Not just there yet. He felt embarrassed but she just smiled and held the glass to his lips. The water felt incredibly good and after a few ha’s and huhu’s he smiled and with a raspy voice that sounded nothing like his own thanked her. She beamed like the sun.
She chatted away about things he didn’t really listen to, just said ‘yeah’ and ‘right’ at the presumably right places. He strained his ears for Angel but he couldn’t hear him anywhere. He knew he was there though, somewhere near, keeping out of sight. Away from him. Suddenly he felt air hiccough in his lunges and before he knew what was happening a low sob escaped from his lips. There were tears prickling his eyes and he shakily raised his hand to wipe them away. Only to have spindly arms pull him into a tight embrace and with a sigh he relaxed against the thin body. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. So human, so warm, so alive. Was that why Angel didn’t want him? Because he wasn’t alive? Not like the Slayer, not like Cordelia, not like Nina. He was cold and he knew how much warmth meant to creatures like them.
Except Angel never felt cold to him. He just felt… right.
Finally he pulled away, giving Fred a small smile. She smiled back but she looked worried. “I’ll let you get your rest.”
He nodded, even though they both knew he had been getting enough rest to last him a lifetime. Sinking back onto the soft pillows he closed his eyes. He could hear her speak softly to Angel in the living room but there was no answer.
Time went slowly by. Finally it became too much for him after weeks of lying still. He sat up and swung his feet over the edge. The room swayed for a while when he stood up but after a few shaky steps he got the hang of it. He reached out and grabbed a pair of jeans that Angel had laid on the chair by his bed that morning. Dressing was difficult but finally he had them up and partly buttoned, his fingers going numb after the bottom three. Slowly he made his way to the door. The living room was dark and quiet and without vampire vision he wouldn’t have seen Angel sitting there, wrapped up in the darkness.
“So…” His voice shook slightly. “What now?”
Angel’s head snapped up. “You’re up.”
“Yeah. Well, getting there at least.” He leaned casually against the doorframe as his legs started to shake. He opened his mouth to say something, what he hadn’t really decided yet, but then Angel looked away and he closed it again.
They remained in silence for a while. Finally Spike cleared his throat and straightened up. “Right. I guess I’ll be off then.” He thought he saw Angel tense but there was no response. “Anyway… thank you. For looking after me. Didn’t need to do that but you did so… thank you.”
When there was still no answer from Angel he sighed and turned slowly around before letting go of the doorframe. Only to tumble forward and… the second before he hit the floor someone caught his arm and pulled him up.
They stood panting, Angel’s arms wrapped around Spike’s thin frame, Spike leaning his head wearily against Angel’s broad chest. Angel brushed a tangle of hair away from Spike’s face. He squeezed his eyes shut, the gentle touch giving him more hope than he could handle. “Think maybe you need looking after a little bit longer.”
“Maybe.” He breathed into Angel’s shirt. “But you don’t have to…”
“Nah, it’s all right. I’ve rather gotten used to having you around.”
Spike stiffened. “Wasn’t me.”
Angel pulled away and frowned at him. “What?”
“You’ve got used to having a silent corpse lying in your bed. That’s not me, Angel.” He looked up, the anger and frustration he’d been feeling lately suddenly welling up. “I’m the annoying half-wit, remember? That’s why you’ve been like this for the last few days, right? Didn’t like the thought of your puppy getting teeth again. Rather liked me being all silent and paralysed, didn’t you?”
“What? No!” Angel was staring at him all flushed but Spike thought he could detect guilt in his eyes.
“Really? You trying to tell me after all those ‘Shut up, Spike!’s you didn’t think you finally got your wish? Cos I think you did. And when you realised I’d be back to my old self you got ticked off and that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, leaving me alone for bloody hours on end. Staring up at the sodding ceiling, alone with my thoughts and my nightmares and the fucking voices screaming in my head!” He tore out of Angel’s arms and staggered back. “For months I’ve been trying to get you to look at me, talk to me, to fucking help me! But you didn’t see, you didn’t listen, you didn’t bloody well care, did you Sire?”
“Spike, wait…” Angel reached out for him but Spike swatted his hand away in anger.
“So you felt guilty because I took the metaphorical bullet for you. Well, fuck it. And fuck you. I can take care of myself. Feed your fucking guilt elsewhere.” He stumbled to the bed and sat down. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of here.”
He could feel Angel’s tension but he didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the pity or whatever he was feeling. Just wanted to get the hell away from there as soon as possible.
Angel finally spoke, voice determined but shaky. “I didn’t feel guilty for you saving my life. It didn’t even occur to me. Probably should but I was rather busy feeling guilty for all the other things.”
Spike frowned. “What things?”
“Everything you just mentioned. Not noticing, not listening, not caring. And now I feel guilty for leaving you alone those last few days. I didn’t realise. I’m sorry. But it wasn’t for what you think.” Angel took a step forward but stopped when Spike tensed. “Yes, I did rather like taking care of you. Been a long time since I’ve had someone depend upon me that much.” He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “The reason I was nervous about you getting better was that I thought your first steps would be out of here. That your first words would be to tell me to go to hell for what I put you through.”
Spike bit his lip. “There’s a reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Is there?”
Spike looked up and caught his breath at the look in Angel’s eyes. He stood slowly up and fixed his gaze on him. “I don’t know. Is there?”
Angel swallowed. “I was hoping there was. For you. That you wanted to stay here. With me. For some reason. Beside the bed and breakfast service.”
Spike looked at him for a long time before answering. “There is. A reason. Beside the bed and brekkie.” He paused. “Which by the way has been excellent.” His eyes strayed to Angel’s wrist that he’d unconsciously been rubbing.
Angel followed his gaze, quickly let go of his hand then looked up at him. “That right?” He licked his lips slowly. “So… are you hungry?”
Spike swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. Then he blinked twice.
Angel raised his hand but instead of offering his wrist he pulled aside the collar of his shirt and slowly tilted his head. Spike stared at him, then stepped closer, still not touching him but the need to was vibrating between them. His breath brushed against Angel’s skin as he slowly leaned forward and buried his face in Angel’s neck. Breathing, breathing and then the quiet crunch of bones as his face settled. His eyes glowed for a moment before he closed them and slowly slid in his fangs.
If the previous feedings had been promising, this gave him everything they hadn’t fulfilled. Angel was clutching his waist hard as he moaned softly in Spike’s ear then he shifted slightly and Spike almost lost his bite when a tense thigh pressed against his erection. Fuck yeah, finally! Then Angel lifted him off the floor and before he had time to wonder Spike was falling on top off him on the bed, the powerful blood still pumping into his mouth. It wasn’t until large hands slipped down the backside of his jeans and clutched his cheeks that he let go, desperately needing to breathe or he was going to come right there and then.
His hair was clinging to the back of his neck in damp curls and sweat trickled down his back as he sat up, looking down at Angel with hooded eyes. He felt high, the mixed sensation of Angel’s blood in his veins and his cock now pressing against his arse giving him such a strange sense of déja-vu that he thought he could hear Dru and Darla in the background cooing and egging them on. Angel was staring up at him, his eyes black with lust, lips slightly parted and panting.
“What are we doing?”
Spike’s question seemed to catch Angel off guard. He blinked and frowned. Spike sighed. “I know what we’re doing. But Angel, what the fuck are we doing?”
Angel seemed even more confused. “You saying you don’t want this?” His disappointment was very badly hidden.
“I think this speaks for itself.” Spike glanced down where his cock was doing its best to escape his jeans. “It’s not a question of want, Angel, it’s a question of whether this is just a shag or …” He stopped, suddenly feeling too unsure to continue. Angel hadn’t really given him any reason to believe this was anything more. Two horny vampires finally getting some after weeks of… why was he stalling this again? “Bugger it. Where were we?”
He leaned down for another kiss but Angel put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “No, you’re right. We shouldn’t rush into anything. If you want to know I was hoping this was something more than just a ‘shag’. I know we haven’t exactly been the best of friends lately but that doesn’t mean…” He closed his eyes for a moment before reaching up and cupping Spike’s face. “Damn it Will, nothing has changed. Over a hundred years and all you have to do is look at me and I’m lost.”
Spike stiffened. “Yeah? Guess that’s why you haven’t been meeting my eyes then.” He tried to move off but Angel grabbed his arms and held him still.
“You’re right. I think that is why. Yes, I was jealous and angry when you came back. It had been too long and when I looked at you all I saw was my humiliation and your triumph. You seemed to be better than me in everything and it just got me so damn mad.”
Spike tried to move away again but Angel held him tight and he was nowhere near strong enough to fight it though he tried his best. “Wait! Please, Spike, hear me out. I treated you like you were nothing but a pain and a nuisance but every night I dreamt of you and what we used to have. But it only made me angrier because I didn’t want to want you. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I was a prick. Please, don’t go.”
Spike was silent, his head bowed and eyes closed in what looked like defeat but was anything but. He felt anger and pain, but it was hard to concentrate because much more than that he felt lust and need that was so strong that he suspected that he would have taken any crap Angel threw at him and still stayed. Love’s bitch and lust’s whore. But above all he felt hope. Angel’s voice sounded desperate but also sincere and that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance after all. Slowly he raised his head.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angel kept completely still, watching the emotions play on Spike’s face. He had wanted this conversation to go completely differently. Had planned to sit Spike down and talk about responsibilities that were weighing him down, guilt that was clouding his judgement, grief that had made him too scared to even consider that anyone could ever matter to him again. Instead here he was, a half naked Spike straddling him and his eloquence seemed to consist of the words fuck and please. The longer Spike stayed silent the more his hope faded. It was too little and too late and he was going to lose him. Then Spike raised his head.
His eyes seemed bluer than ever, but as they stared at each other Angel saw a flicker of gold and the hard cock trapped in Spike’s jeans gave a slight twitch. The tiny movement was enough to make his own press harder into Spike’s ass. Still he dared not move. Spike was watching him intently, seeming to search his face for an answer and Angel tried desperately to give it to him. ‘This is me saying yes. This is me saying please Spike don’t leave because I need you. This is me saying sorry, I’m so damn sorry.’ He didn’t even dare blink.
“More than a shag then?”
Angel kept completely still. “Yes. Much more. Can we at least try?”
The five seconds that went by before Spike nodded seemed like a lifetime but when the response finally came Angel’s cock reacted faster than his brain, twitching against Spike’s ass before he had time to say thank you. Spike gasped and then they were kissing again, deep desperate kisses of lovers parted for too long.
Angel rolled them over until Spike was the one lying on his back, bucking against the hard body above him. Angel stood up and ripped off his shirt before scrambling out of his pants and underwear. Spike was struggling with the buttons on his jeans, weak fingers fumbling without success until Angel pushed them away and popped them open one by one, revealing more of the line of hair that had been teasing him earlier. He leaned over and nuzzled into the golden curls, inhaling the familiar scent before pulling the jeans off in one swift motion. Spike’s cock bounced up and slapped his taunt belly, sticking a string of precum to the smooth skin. And Angel wondered why the hell he had tried to avoid this for so long.
~~~~~~~~
Oh god, this was too good. Spike thought he might just break down and cry from all the emotions that were swirling inside him. He whimpered as Angel licked a path up the swollen shaft, he moaned as he was swallowed down and he cried out when finally slick finger entered him, so gently that if in any way he had been reminded of the past it stopped there. Angelus had never been this loving, never taken the time to prepare him like this, stretching him, wetting him with his fingers and tongue until he thought he might just burst from the intensity. He was silently begging in his head when finally Angel’s cock pressed against his entrance and he held his breath as the blunt head stretched him to the point that he thought he might have to yell stop if he hadn’t known it so well, didn’t know after all these years exactly when it would pop inside, exactly how far in it would go, exactly how filled and complete he would feel when the whole length was settled inside his body.
They moved slowly at first, both of them getting used to the intensity and the familiarity of something you never forget no matter how many years pass by. They kept their eyes locked, trying to say with their gaze what they were both so inadequate at wording. Then Angel shifted slightly and the almost painful pleasure shot through Spike’s body, making him cry out and arch of the bed. “God yes. There, Angel. Please.”
He tried desperately to grab his cock but Angel took hold of his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head. Then he started thrusting faster and harder, aiming for that special spot, growling at the look of Spike writhing and moaning underneath him, begging him for more, more, more! “Please Angel! Yes! Oh God, yes. I need… I need…”
Angel finally let one of his wrists go but when Spike reached down Angel’s hand was already there, jerking him off in fast and hard motions in rhythm with his own thrusting that was becoming more erratic. Spike could feel the orgasm building in his balls and he struggled his other hand free from Angel’s sweaty grip and reached up to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue plunged into the gasping mouth and with a few jerks he was coming, his fingers clutching Angel’s hair. Through a daze he felt Angel stiffen and then he was crying out, pumping into him what felt like a years worth of pleasure.
They lay panting for a long time and when Angel finally rolled off him Spike shivered, the fresh air against his damp skin turning it prickly with goosebumps. Angel spooned him against his belly and pulled the covers over them. They were sweaty and sticky but Spike hadn’t felt so good since forever. He laid still, deep in thought, absentmindedly listening to Angel breathing into the back of his neck.
“You still want to stay?”
Angel’s voice sounded strangely nervous and Spike couldn’t help smiling. “I was just going to ask if you still wanted me to stay.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a while and then Angel pulled him even tighter into his embrace. “Well, that settles it. Welcome home.”
If he smelled the tears he didn’t mention it.
fin
Feedback would be wonderful
Title: The Sound of Silence
Pairing: Spike/Angel obviously
Rating: Adult
Summary: Spike is having trouble dealing with his new unlife.
Author's note: Title obviously taken from the song by Simon and Garfunkel. Thanks to miss_c667 for looking it over and saying it wasn't rubbish. *smooch*
The Sound of Silence
He was slowly losing it. This he knew, after all it was pretty obvious, with the voices and the hallucinations and the diediedie mantra echoing in his head. If someone had asked him why, he wouldn’t have been entirely sure. Was it because he never really felt himself after he came back? Was it because he just felt tired of it all; the distrusting looks, the fact that no one cared, the bickering with Angel?
Angel. Was it because he was finally realising that there was no chance of anything between them again? That he was finally seeing Angel’s looks for what they were, hearing his words the way they were really intended. Finally realising that there was no hidden agenda or meaning, no lust behind the anger, no denial behind the contempt? He had to admit, that was probably the biggest part.
For so long he had been fooling himself, thinking it was just a wall they were building up brick by brick with every word and then would smash together when they finally recognised it for what it was. But he knew better now. Now for each brick put up there was another voice added to the whispers in his head, telling him how much he was actually hated and despised, how utterly useless he was to everyone. Especially Angel.
And they were getting so many now, the voices. He didn’t care so much about the ones of his victims, he was rather used to them by now and after all he had early on accepted that he deserved every word they hissed. The others though, Buffy (“Ask me again why I could never love you.”), Dawn (“You sleep, right?”), Xander (“Why are we not killing him, again?”) and Angel, Angel, Angel. (Get the hell away from me, Spike.) All the time, whispering, spitting out words like venom, screaming in his ears in his sleep. He’d wake up sweating and gasping for air he could never remember he didn’t need, nails clawing at his chest, stomach tight as a knot.
Ever since he got back they had been getting louder and angrier, cutting him deeper each day. He tried his best to suppress them when he was with the others, stumbling as they swallowed him as soon as he was alone again. He thought of telling someone (Angel, Angel) but every time he tried to approach him they ended up fighting even more and the wall got bigger, the whispers tuned up to screams. And at last he gave in.
Funny how easy it was to just stop. Wasn’t a deliberate thing. He just caught himself staring at the blood in his mug one afternoon and it dawned on him that he had no desire for it whatsoever. Not because it tasted like tar, not because it reminded him of killing - he deliberately never thought of that anymore - he simply didn’t want it. So he poured it into the sink and turned on the tap, watching the red liquid swirl down the drain. And that was it.
There was no hunger, just an occasional cramp in his stomach but that passed. He did however feel himself weakening. Little at first but as each day passed his limbs felt heavier. Enough to affect him in fights. He’d gotten close to being ripped open a few times. Once Wesley saved him, another time Gunn, both of them giving him strange looks but nothing more. But never Angel. Angel shouted at him to stop fucking around and concentrate. He wanted to yell back that he was trying but it was just too damn hard but instead he shook his head until his vision cleared and rushed back into the fight.
Once he woke up though, slumped against the wall with an irritated Angel watching over him. And he felt so grateful. When he got to his feet he almost fell over and for a flicker of a second he imagined there was a look of concern on his Sire’s face but when he managed to focus all he could see was annoyance. As Spike followed Angel through the sewers he wished that just for once he would stop and look at him. Really look at him. Not with hate or disgust or annoyance but just look and see him. But he never did.
He was getting thinner, obviously, but the coat covered that. Always had a bony face and no one looked him in the eye anyway. And so time passed, day after day. He didn’t even know how long it had been. Days? Weeks? Months? Time seemed to float rather than pass like he was swimming through liquid pain, each stroke being harder and harder. People walked by, some even talked to him, but they were blurred and at the end of the day he couldn’t remember any of it.
One day he fell over when he was getting out of the chair in Angel’s office. He should have felt embarrassed but he was too tired to care. Angel gave him a smug smile and asked if he needed a hand. He just looked at him with a frown, not getting the joke because he really did need one. Struggling to his feet he ignored the usual remarks about him being drunk and slowly walked out without a word. He could feel Lorne looking at him as they passed each other in the hall way but he kept walking until he was inside the elevator. Once the door slid shut he leaned against the wall, closing his eyes. Suppose it was time. He doubted they would miss him.
As it was he’d been lying in bed for two days when Angel barged in and told him to get his drunken ass out of bed, he was needed in a fight. The old rebellious Spike wanted to object, tell him that he hadn’t had a drop, didn’t have the money for it anyway. But instead he stumbled out of bed, sighing with relief when Angel turned away and stalked out. Wouldn’t want him to see... But would he really notice?
He was feeling faint and very cold as he tried his best to keep up with Angel. Sometimes he had to blink to be able to focus on where he was and where they were going and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t remember what it was they were about to face. Not that it mattered. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he didn’t have the strength and as long as those demons didn’t turn out to be 6” gnomes he was pretty much done for. Not that it mattered.
They met up with Wes and Gunn in the sewers and he was glad for the dark because for a short moment Wesley’s eyes lingered on him. But then Angel shouted at them to hurry up and again he was trying not to fall behind.
As they came around the corner they walked right into an ambush. The creature, huge and covered in spikes, slammed Angel into the wall before turning to the others. What followed was a blur of movements and pain. More than once Spike thought of just dropping the axe and sinking to his knees. But then he saw Wes stumbling or Gunn falling back and he managed to keep going. At one point his coat got caught on one of the demon’s spikes and he had to struggle out of it to get free.
Finally it came to that point where he felt the last strength escape his limbs. His t-shirt was torn open, blood trickling in thick drops down his scratched torso. He looked around dazed. There was Gunn, hacking away at the creature’s back and Wes, slowly getting back up after being thrown to the side and Angel… Angel was just standing there, staring at him. Spike started to look away but then he saw the demon turn around and swing its massive spiked tail. Without thinking he launched forward and pushed Angel out of the way. Then nothing.
~~~~~
The first thing he noticed was the pain around his middle. Like something had tried to rip his spine out. Maybe it had. The next thing he noticed was the smell. Above everything, even the foul sewer stink, was the smell of blood. His own blood. It would have made him growl if he hadn’t been too weak to even breathe. But mixed into it was the smell of Angel. That’s when he noticed he was being carried, clutched against a cold tense chest, his head lolling on a broad shoulder. He tried to open his eyes but they wouldn’t obey him and after a while he gave up and relaxed into the secure embrace.
He must have passed out again because the next thing he knew he was lying on a bed, muffled voices arguing nearby. He tried to make out the words but he didn’t seem able to concentrate. Until he heard Angel shout in anger: ‘I don’t fucking care, I’m not staking him!’
‘Just do it,’ he wanted to say, ‘please.’ But there was no strength left for anything. And not really any pain either. But God, the cold. He was so cold. So bone freezing cold that Angelangelangel’s palm against his cheek felt warm to the touch.
He longed to lean into that touch, open his eyes and tell him… something. What was it again? His mind was all muddled and he didn’t seem to be able to concentrate on anything except Angel’s hand cupping his cheek and his fingers running through his hair.
“You stupid, stupid boy. Why? Why on earth did you do this to yourself?”
Angel’s voice had never been so gentle toward him and he wanted to cry and tell him ‘Because. Because I was disappearing anyway. Because I wanted you to see me. Because I was so tired. Because you couldn’t hear me shouting for your help. Because…’ Then the darkness swallowed him again.
After that he drifted in and out, getting lost in time. Consciousness was marked by Angel’s absence or presence. The former filling him with panic, the latter making him want to weep. He thought he could feel some strength rebuilding but it was too small to tell and for all he knew he could be imagining the whole thing. Because that seemed to be the only part of him that still worked, filling his head with images and words. Playing memories of blood and death and touch and love.
So he didn’t really know if the words he could hear Angel saying were real or just in his head. If the blood that he swallowed was what it tasted like. Or if that kiss on his lips was made by flesh or just the ghost of it. Most of all he wished he could see Angel’s face.
~~~~~~
It was so hard. So hard he thought of giving up a number of times but in the end he managed it. And then had to fight to keep them open because it was so bright. Instinct screamed at him to cover before the sun burned him up until reason told him all he was seeing was the soft light of a bedside lamp. The ceiling looked familiar but he didn’t know why. A few seconds later his eyes closed again, exhausted by the effort.
~~~~~~
Took him a long time before he could open them again. This time he wasn’t alone but whoever was there (Angel, he just knew it was Angel) wasn’t in his line of sight and however hard he tried he couldn’t turn his head or move it at all. After a few minutes he gave up and fell asleep.
~~~~~~
Struggling once again to see he blinked and stared right into big brown eyes, gazing down at him. Thank you, he prayed to whatever God might be listening. He tried to open his mouth but nothing happened and so he lay like that staring up at his creator. He smelled salt in the air but his vision was too blurred to know if they were his own or Angel’s. When Angel reached down and kissed his cheek his eyes shut involuntarily and however much he tried he couldn’t open them again. He thought he could hear Angel whispering in the distance but he couldn’t make out the words. But it was enough to lull him into dreamless sleep.
~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel sat back and watched as Spike’s face went slack and within moments he was asleep. It hadn’t been much but just to see those blue eyes looking up at him was enough for now. Like a tiny miracle after two weeks of nothing but cold silence. Sighing he reached out and stroke a lock of hair away from the grey face.
Spike had always been pale, paler than he himself had ever been, but now he seemed almost translucent. The creature’s spiky tail had ripped into his abdomen and he had lost so much blood that Angel saw him fade away before his eyes. Biting back the guilt he uncovered the limp body and made sure the bandages were still dry. The first days whatever they tried to feed him had just seemed to seep out faster than it came in. The wound just refused to heal and Angel knew very well why. There was no strength left, but above all, there was no will.
The moment in the battle when he had looked back to see how the others were doing… Wes was ok, Gunn was ok, Spike… Spike stumbled to his feet and stood there swaying and Angel froze in his tracks. Spike was definitely not ok. The pale chest was hollowed; the stomach caved in and in his circled eyes there was nothing but resignation. Like he was just waiting to die.
Like a flash Angel played the last few weeks through his mind and it hit him like a punch in the gut. Oh god, how could he have been so stupid, so fucking arrogant? Feeling his eyes on him Spike looked up. The whole battlefield seemed to fade away and for the first time in longer than he cared to remember Angel felt the old bond, pulsating and vibrating between them. He opened his mouth to say something but before he even had time to decide what Spike came toward him in a flurry and he was thrown into the wall a quarter of a second before Spike went airborne, impaled on the creatures spiky tail.
He didn’t remember much of the battle after that except screaming and yelling and hacking away like a maniac. When it was finally over he didn’t waste any time. Spike was lying on the ground, clothes soaked through by sewer water and blood. His guts were hanging out and his head was at an impossible angle. With trembling hands Angel pushed the organs back inside and as gently as he could lifted Spike up, clutching him to his chest. Ignoring the pain and exhaustion he carried him through the tunnels, the smell of blood for once making him feel sick instead of hungry.
The operation had taken hours that he spent pacing the floors, cursing himself and Spike for being such idiots. Wes had watched him warily, not asking any questions; like this was something he had been waiting for to happen. Not the near death thing but Angel’s revelation. At one time Angel had stopped and turned to him, anger and desperation in his eyes, asking him “Did you know?” and at Wes’ silent response slumped in self-disgust.
After a long moment of silence Angel came and sat down by Wesley’s side, wringing his hands. “I forgot. I forgot who he was and what he was like because I didn’t want to remember. It was easier, seeing him as a nuisance; someone sent here to annoy me. I didn’t want to think of what it all meant to him.”
Wes frowned. “You can’t blame yourself.”
“Yes I can. And I should. He’s my responsibility and I failed him.”
“He’s a grown man, Angel. He’s survived without you for over a hundred years.”
Angel looked away. “Yes, Wes. Thank you so much for reminding me of my failures. But this is different. This is… I did this to him. I could have helped him and I didn’t, in fact I did my best to make him feel unwanted.”
“Well, he’s not exactly the most approachable person I know. He does send off that I-don’t-give-a-rat’s-arse vibe.”
Despite everything Angel couldn’t help smiling. He sat quiet for a while, glancing at the door to the operation room every now and then. “Don’t think I’ve ever met a more insecure and sensitive person. So… human.”
Wes blinked. “We are talking about Spike, Angel.”
“Exactly. Like I said, I should have remembered.”
They didn’t speak much after that and when the doctors came out saying they had put things in their right places and stitched him up but for all they knew it wouldn’t make a damn difference he’d stormed to Spike’s bed and hadn’t left it for more than a couple of hours since then. He had Spike moved up to the penthouse; if anyone found that strange they didn’t comment on it. And there he had been lying completely motionless for two weeks now.
After two days of constant blood loss Angel had finally cursed and stormed to the phone, ordering a generous supply of human blood from the blood bank. He’d ignored Wesley’s concerned look and when the order came he drank down two pints then ripped open his wrist and pressed it to Spike’s lips. The few seconds it took for him to respond seemed like a lifetime. But then he felt a weak sucking and with a sigh he closed his eyes. When he opened them again Wes was gone and the room was dark. Since then the healing had been slow but definite and although the feeding made Angel feel emotions he refused to analyse he kept it up, telling himself this was what Spike needed.
A few times Angel thought he’d detected some kind of awareness, although there was no change. Just something that made him think Spike might be awake. Once he’d been sitting in the chair reading and felt a ripple in the air of something akin to sadness and when he looked up he just caught Spike’s eyes closing. No matter how much he tried talking to him they didn’t open again. Until now.
Smiling Angel stood up and walked into the kitchen. Time for a drink.
~~~~~~~
He had never imagined it could be so difficult to communicate. After all, he wasn’t exactly known for being a creature of silence. They had gone by on two blinks for yes and one for no for too long. It left him frustrated, having to rely on Angel who never seemed to ask him anything important. Instead he got endless questions about if he was hungry (blink-blink) or if he was in pain (blink) or if he understood what Angel was saying (I’m blinking my sodding eyes, aren’t I?). If he’d been able to move so much as a pinky he would have poked Angel hard, as long as he came close enough, that is.
The whole vegetable state was driving him insane. He could feel his nerves fidgeting but nothing happened when he tried to make them do something more than irritate him. The stupid thing was that he could feel himself healing, like power ants crawling over and under his skin, bringing him strength. But no matter how much energy he felt boiling inside him he. Just. Couldn’t. Move.
What he didn’t want to admit was how much it scared him. There was something very wrong and no one seemed to know what it was. Or they weren’t telling him. Which was actually more terrifying than anything. He tried to search Angel’s eyes for answers but all he got was the usual “What? Are you hungry?” and short of rolling his eyes there wasn’t much he could do. Except accept the offer because feeding of Angel was the closest thing he got to wanking and bugger it, how did those paralysed humans stand it? Maybe they didn’t feel anything, something he did not have the luxury off. He felt it all, the swelling off his cock, the tingling in his balls and then the agonising wait for everything to go away after Angel had pried him off his wrist and disappeared into the bathroom. Did he honestly think Spike didn’t know? That he didn’t smell it, didn’t hear it, didn’t bloody well feel it like a wave of agonising bliss?
But he... He was left lying here, practically bursting out of his skin. Didn’t help visioning Angel behind the locked door, jerking off like a shameful choirboy, the stimulation was never enough to get him off, it only made his balls ache worse.
No, Spike was not a happy puppy.
Although he had to admit it did feel good knowing that Angel after all seemed to care enough to look after him like this. They hadn’t talked about it… Correction, Angel hadn’t talked about it, just went around like this was the most normal thing in the world going from ‘Fuck off, Spike, you useless waste of space’ to ‘How are you feeling? Are you hungry?’ in a matter of days. It was all very confusing. He had a dim memory of Angel mumbling some sweet words of comfort and regret into his ear but that could have been a dream.
Talking about dreams. The nightmares were not as frequent anymore. And when they came they were often cut short and replaced with dreams of soft hands stroking his hair that then turned into erotic dreams of hands and lips in quite different places. To add even more confusion Angel had started sleeping in the bed beside him. Guess the chair wasn’t very comfy in the long run. Not that he minded, especially since soon after Angel fell asleep he rolled over and a strong arm sneaked across his abdomen, mouth breathing softly into his ear. He would have whimpered if he could.
The voices were still speaking to him but all he had to do was remember Angel’s hand on his cheek or his eyes watching him and what they were saying didn’t matter as much any more. Because however useless and evil they told him he was he knew if it was really true Angel wouldn’t be there. And for some reason Angel’s opinion meant more to him than all the voices in the world.
~~~~~~
Things were going well. Sure Spike wasn’t moving yet or talking but they had found a way of communicating and at least that was something. He seemed frustrated though and the eye rolls reminded him off the old Spike so much Angel couldn’t help smiling. But he understood him well, it must be hell not being able to move around or say what he felt. Truth be told, Spike quiet was a lot less satisfying than he had thought it would be. He kinda missed the old snarky comments and witty remarks. Especially when he realised how long it had actually been since he’d heard them.
He wanted to talk to Spike about that. Tell him how sorry he was, how he had totally screwed up. He should have known how troubled he was, should have sensed his loneliness, seen his desperation. But every time he sat down Spike looked up at him with those blue eyes and he couldn’t. Wouldn’t be fair anyway, pouring his guilt out over someone who couldn’t even tell him that there was no way in hell he could forgive him. So he didn’t say anything. Better wait until Spike was his old self.
He wasn’t sure how he knew but many times he woke up in the middle of the night to find Spike wildly shifting his eyes like he was looking for a way out or searching the room for whatever had disturbed his sleep. Only thing that seemed to sooth him was feeling Angel’s presence so he started sleeping on the bed to be ready to calm him down at first sign of trouble. For some reason their nights were a lot more peaceful after that.
He was still feeding Spike from his wrist. He probably didn’t need to but the one time Angel had suggested that Spike try and drink with a straw his eyes had shown such distress that he’d abandoned the idea. Solely for Spike of course. It had nothing to do with the way his own heart raced and his cock swelled and… nope not at all.
Spike seemed to receive some pleasure from it as well, the look on his face as he suckled was so blissful and Angel wondered what thoughts went on behind the closed eyes. Some kind of erotica he guessed because typically of Spike the only thing he could move was his cock and the longer Spike fed, the prouder it stood, tenting the covers. It was probably just a natural reaction, the blood calling to his primal instincts. Had nothing to do with whom he was feeding from. Nothing at all. Didn’t stop Angel from fantasising about him as he jerked off in the shower though. And he seemed to take an awful lot of showers recently.
~~~~~~~~
Just as he was coming out of the bathroom one day, he found Wes sitting on Spike’s bed, smiling.
“Angel, there you are. I was just telling Spike I think we might have found a way to cure him.” Wes waved a sheet of paper enthusiastically. “I’ve been doing some research into that specific species and then we went and collected some specimen from the scene. Fred found poison in the creature’s spikes. Quite strong and usually deadly since it paralysis the whole body, including the heart and lunges. Thank god you were dead already.” He smiled at Spike who only rolled his eyes but he did seem a bit more cheerful than usual. “She’s working on an antidote as we speak.”
Angel blinked. He was relieved, of course he was, but at the same time he felt a bit… uneasy. The past weeks were the closest he’d come to having someone live with him since before the soul. But now, as soon as he was cured, Spike would be able to take care of himself and didn’t need him anymore. Which he supposed was a good thing. He had work to do, lives to save and all that. And Spike… Spike was probably pretty sick of him by now.
He kept his thoughts hidden behind a brisk façade and came forward, nodding at Wes. “Good. About time. I’m sure Spike will be more than glad to get out of here.” Wesley smiled but Spike only stared up at him, pupils tiny as dots. When Angel gave him a forced smile he averted his eyes and Angel’s heart sank even further.
It took Fred a couple of days to brew the antidote, days Angel spent more or less at the office, only coming home to feed Spike and then late at night sliding into the bed beside him, falling asleep all stiff and uncomfortable, waking up curled around Spike’s limp body. Spike kept watching him silently and he wished he knew what he was thinking. Except he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
When Fred called him to say the antidote was ready he went up to the apartment, then paced the room, sitting down by Spike’s side every now and then but standing up just as swiftly when Spike stared at him. Finally there was a knock on the door and a shy Fred popped her head in. He stood by the door as she injected the white liquid into Spike’s arm, not sure whether he should stay or go. Within ten minutes Spike was moving his toes and when Fred smiled at him he grinned back, a lopsided grin but definitely a grin.
Seeing the blank face slowly gain life had a very confusing effect on Angel. Each twitch of a taunt nerve and tiny ripple of a muscle moving under smooth skin twisted his stomach further. When Spike slowly stretched his fingers Angel turned around and left the room.
He sat on the couch, staring out of the huge windows as the sun descended, bathing him in red and golden strands of light. He heard Fred talking in the bedroom and when she was finally answered by a voice raw and strange but still so painfully familiar he closed his eyes. They talked for a while and then there was silence.
Ten minutes later she came out and stood for a moment by Angel’s side but he didn’t open his eyes. He could smell Spike all over her. And suddenly the previous silence took on much more meaning. He wondered if he kissed her would she taste like Spike? His fingers longed to grab her wrist and drag her into his lap, so he could sniff the evidence of her skin. He shivered slightly.
“He’s going to be all right, Angel. But maybe… maybe you two should talk.”
He didn’t answer. After a while she left. The sun dropped even lower and the apartment faded into darkness.
“So… what now?”
~~~~~~~~
Since the day that Wes had come and told them they had found a solution everything had gone… wrong. Angel was wrong, he was wrong, whatever they had between them was wrong. He couldn’t wait to be able to move, to talk, to damn well kiss Angel and tell him… But Angel clearly didn’t feel that way. He became withdrawn and cold and Spike started doubting there ever had been anything. That it was all in his head, a bond brought on by the blood and the loneliness and had nothing to do with who he was or what he was to Angel.
Angel still fed him from his wrist but there was no pleasure in it anymore because Angel was too distant, too removed for him to even feel him. Like he was a bloody cow being milked. At least he didn’t have to worry about getting release because there was nothing to get release from. Nothing. For either of them.
The nightmares came back with a vengeance, making him scream inwardly but he couldn’t even cry out, couldn’t hide his face, couldn’t beg Angel to please help him. When Angel finally came to bed he stayed far away from Spike like he was contagious. Until he fell asleep that is. Then it didn’t take him long to wrap his arm around him and it was like before all the wrongness. Except it only made Spike feel worse because however much Angel’s sub-consciousness seemed to like his company, awake and aware he clearly didn’t.
And then the day finally came. He felt a little scared, not knowing if it would actually work or maybe just make him worse. He tried catching Angel’s eye, asking him to stay with him but Angel stood far away, watching them coldly. Slowly Spike felt the antidote work; nerves twitching in his limbs, itchy and irritating but so fucking good that he couldn’t help smiling. He tried to reach out to Angel but when he looked up he was gone.
Fred stayed with him, chatting away like this was the most exciting thing she’d done since… well, probably her last experiment. The girl really needed to get out more. The tingling travelled from his limbs and into his torso and when it reached his lunges he took a deep breath and then coughed for two good minutes. She handed him a glass of water and then caught it as it slipped from his fingers. Not just there yet. He felt embarrassed but she just smiled and held the glass to his lips. The water felt incredibly good and after a few ha’s and huhu’s he smiled and with a raspy voice that sounded nothing like his own thanked her. She beamed like the sun.
She chatted away about things he didn’t really listen to, just said ‘yeah’ and ‘right’ at the presumably right places. He strained his ears for Angel but he couldn’t hear him anywhere. He knew he was there though, somewhere near, keeping out of sight. Away from him. Suddenly he felt air hiccough in his lunges and before he knew what was happening a low sob escaped from his lips. There were tears prickling his eyes and he shakily raised his hand to wipe them away. Only to have spindly arms pull him into a tight embrace and with a sigh he relaxed against the thin body. He closed his eyes and inhaled the scent of her hair. So human, so warm, so alive. Was that why Angel didn’t want him? Because he wasn’t alive? Not like the Slayer, not like Cordelia, not like Nina. He was cold and he knew how much warmth meant to creatures like them.
Except Angel never felt cold to him. He just felt… right.
Finally he pulled away, giving Fred a small smile. She smiled back but she looked worried. “I’ll let you get your rest.”
He nodded, even though they both knew he had been getting enough rest to last him a lifetime. Sinking back onto the soft pillows he closed his eyes. He could hear her speak softly to Angel in the living room but there was no answer.
Time went slowly by. Finally it became too much for him after weeks of lying still. He sat up and swung his feet over the edge. The room swayed for a while when he stood up but after a few shaky steps he got the hang of it. He reached out and grabbed a pair of jeans that Angel had laid on the chair by his bed that morning. Dressing was difficult but finally he had them up and partly buttoned, his fingers going numb after the bottom three. Slowly he made his way to the door. The living room was dark and quiet and without vampire vision he wouldn’t have seen Angel sitting there, wrapped up in the darkness.
“So…” His voice shook slightly. “What now?”
Angel’s head snapped up. “You’re up.”
“Yeah. Well, getting there at least.” He leaned casually against the doorframe as his legs started to shake. He opened his mouth to say something, what he hadn’t really decided yet, but then Angel looked away and he closed it again.
They remained in silence for a while. Finally Spike cleared his throat and straightened up. “Right. I guess I’ll be off then.” He thought he saw Angel tense but there was no response. “Anyway… thank you. For looking after me. Didn’t need to do that but you did so… thank you.”
When there was still no answer from Angel he sighed and turned slowly around before letting go of the doorframe. Only to tumble forward and… the second before he hit the floor someone caught his arm and pulled him up.
They stood panting, Angel’s arms wrapped around Spike’s thin frame, Spike leaning his head wearily against Angel’s broad chest. Angel brushed a tangle of hair away from Spike’s face. He squeezed his eyes shut, the gentle touch giving him more hope than he could handle. “Think maybe you need looking after a little bit longer.”
“Maybe.” He breathed into Angel’s shirt. “But you don’t have to…”
“Nah, it’s all right. I’ve rather gotten used to having you around.”
Spike stiffened. “Wasn’t me.”
Angel pulled away and frowned at him. “What?”
“You’ve got used to having a silent corpse lying in your bed. That’s not me, Angel.” He looked up, the anger and frustration he’d been feeling lately suddenly welling up. “I’m the annoying half-wit, remember? That’s why you’ve been like this for the last few days, right? Didn’t like the thought of your puppy getting teeth again. Rather liked me being all silent and paralysed, didn’t you?”
“What? No!” Angel was staring at him all flushed but Spike thought he could detect guilt in his eyes.
“Really? You trying to tell me after all those ‘Shut up, Spike!’s you didn’t think you finally got your wish? Cos I think you did. And when you realised I’d be back to my old self you got ticked off and that’s why you’ve been ignoring me, leaving me alone for bloody hours on end. Staring up at the sodding ceiling, alone with my thoughts and my nightmares and the fucking voices screaming in my head!” He tore out of Angel’s arms and staggered back. “For months I’ve been trying to get you to look at me, talk to me, to fucking help me! But you didn’t see, you didn’t listen, you didn’t bloody well care, did you Sire?”
“Spike, wait…” Angel reached out for him but Spike swatted his hand away in anger.
“So you felt guilty because I took the metaphorical bullet for you. Well, fuck it. And fuck you. I can take care of myself. Feed your fucking guilt elsewhere.” He stumbled to the bed and sat down. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll be out of here.”
He could feel Angel’s tension but he didn’t look up, didn’t want to see the pity or whatever he was feeling. Just wanted to get the hell away from there as soon as possible.
Angel finally spoke, voice determined but shaky. “I didn’t feel guilty for you saving my life. It didn’t even occur to me. Probably should but I was rather busy feeling guilty for all the other things.”
Spike frowned. “What things?”
“Everything you just mentioned. Not noticing, not listening, not caring. And now I feel guilty for leaving you alone those last few days. I didn’t realise. I’m sorry. But it wasn’t for what you think.” Angel took a step forward but stopped when Spike tensed. “Yes, I did rather like taking care of you. Been a long time since I’ve had someone depend upon me that much.” He closed his eyes for a moment before continuing. “The reason I was nervous about you getting better was that I thought your first steps would be out of here. That your first words would be to tell me to go to hell for what I put you through.”
Spike bit his lip. “There’s a reason why I shouldn’t?”
“Is there?”
Spike looked up and caught his breath at the look in Angel’s eyes. He stood slowly up and fixed his gaze on him. “I don’t know. Is there?”
Angel swallowed. “I was hoping there was. For you. That you wanted to stay here. With me. For some reason. Beside the bed and breakfast service.”
Spike looked at him for a long time before answering. “There is. A reason. Beside the bed and brekkie.” He paused. “Which by the way has been excellent.” His eyes strayed to Angel’s wrist that he’d unconsciously been rubbing.
Angel followed his gaze, quickly let go of his hand then looked up at him. “That right?” He licked his lips slowly. “So… are you hungry?”
Spike swallowed, his throat suddenly very dry. Then he blinked twice.
Angel raised his hand but instead of offering his wrist he pulled aside the collar of his shirt and slowly tilted his head. Spike stared at him, then stepped closer, still not touching him but the need to was vibrating between them. His breath brushed against Angel’s skin as he slowly leaned forward and buried his face in Angel’s neck. Breathing, breathing and then the quiet crunch of bones as his face settled. His eyes glowed for a moment before he closed them and slowly slid in his fangs.
If the previous feedings had been promising, this gave him everything they hadn’t fulfilled. Angel was clutching his waist hard as he moaned softly in Spike’s ear then he shifted slightly and Spike almost lost his bite when a tense thigh pressed against his erection. Fuck yeah, finally! Then Angel lifted him off the floor and before he had time to wonder Spike was falling on top off him on the bed, the powerful blood still pumping into his mouth. It wasn’t until large hands slipped down the backside of his jeans and clutched his cheeks that he let go, desperately needing to breathe or he was going to come right there and then.
His hair was clinging to the back of his neck in damp curls and sweat trickled down his back as he sat up, looking down at Angel with hooded eyes. He felt high, the mixed sensation of Angel’s blood in his veins and his cock now pressing against his arse giving him such a strange sense of déja-vu that he thought he could hear Dru and Darla in the background cooing and egging them on. Angel was staring up at him, his eyes black with lust, lips slightly parted and panting.
“What are we doing?”
Spike’s question seemed to catch Angel off guard. He blinked and frowned. Spike sighed. “I know what we’re doing. But Angel, what the fuck are we doing?”
Angel seemed even more confused. “You saying you don’t want this?” His disappointment was very badly hidden.
“I think this speaks for itself.” Spike glanced down where his cock was doing its best to escape his jeans. “It’s not a question of want, Angel, it’s a question of whether this is just a shag or …” He stopped, suddenly feeling too unsure to continue. Angel hadn’t really given him any reason to believe this was anything more. Two horny vampires finally getting some after weeks of… why was he stalling this again? “Bugger it. Where were we?”
He leaned down for another kiss but Angel put a hand on his shoulder and stopped him. “No, you’re right. We shouldn’t rush into anything. If you want to know I was hoping this was something more than just a ‘shag’. I know we haven’t exactly been the best of friends lately but that doesn’t mean…” He closed his eyes for a moment before reaching up and cupping Spike’s face. “Damn it Will, nothing has changed. Over a hundred years and all you have to do is look at me and I’m lost.”
Spike stiffened. “Yeah? Guess that’s why you haven’t been meeting my eyes then.” He tried to move off but Angel grabbed his arms and held him still.
“You’re right. I think that is why. Yes, I was jealous and angry when you came back. It had been too long and when I looked at you all I saw was my humiliation and your triumph. You seemed to be better than me in everything and it just got me so damn mad.”
Spike tried to move away again but Angel held him tight and he was nowhere near strong enough to fight it though he tried his best. “Wait! Please, Spike, hear me out. I treated you like you were nothing but a pain and a nuisance but every night I dreamt of you and what we used to have. But it only made me angrier because I didn’t want to want you. And I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry for everything. I was a prick. Please, don’t go.”
Spike was silent, his head bowed and eyes closed in what looked like defeat but was anything but. He felt anger and pain, but it was hard to concentrate because much more than that he felt lust and need that was so strong that he suspected that he would have taken any crap Angel threw at him and still stayed. Love’s bitch and lust’s whore. But above all he felt hope. Angel’s voice sounded desperate but also sincere and that made him wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a chance after all. Slowly he raised his head.
~~~~~~~~~~
Angel kept completely still, watching the emotions play on Spike’s face. He had wanted this conversation to go completely differently. Had planned to sit Spike down and talk about responsibilities that were weighing him down, guilt that was clouding his judgement, grief that had made him too scared to even consider that anyone could ever matter to him again. Instead here he was, a half naked Spike straddling him and his eloquence seemed to consist of the words fuck and please. The longer Spike stayed silent the more his hope faded. It was too little and too late and he was going to lose him. Then Spike raised his head.
His eyes seemed bluer than ever, but as they stared at each other Angel saw a flicker of gold and the hard cock trapped in Spike’s jeans gave a slight twitch. The tiny movement was enough to make his own press harder into Spike’s ass. Still he dared not move. Spike was watching him intently, seeming to search his face for an answer and Angel tried desperately to give it to him. ‘This is me saying yes. This is me saying please Spike don’t leave because I need you. This is me saying sorry, I’m so damn sorry.’ He didn’t even dare blink.
“More than a shag then?”
Angel kept completely still. “Yes. Much more. Can we at least try?”
The five seconds that went by before Spike nodded seemed like a lifetime but when the response finally came Angel’s cock reacted faster than his brain, twitching against Spike’s ass before he had time to say thank you. Spike gasped and then they were kissing again, deep desperate kisses of lovers parted for too long.
Angel rolled them over until Spike was the one lying on his back, bucking against the hard body above him. Angel stood up and ripped off his shirt before scrambling out of his pants and underwear. Spike was struggling with the buttons on his jeans, weak fingers fumbling without success until Angel pushed them away and popped them open one by one, revealing more of the line of hair that had been teasing him earlier. He leaned over and nuzzled into the golden curls, inhaling the familiar scent before pulling the jeans off in one swift motion. Spike’s cock bounced up and slapped his taunt belly, sticking a string of precum to the smooth skin. And Angel wondered why the hell he had tried to avoid this for so long.
~~~~~~~~
Oh god, this was too good. Spike thought he might just break down and cry from all the emotions that were swirling inside him. He whimpered as Angel licked a path up the swollen shaft, he moaned as he was swallowed down and he cried out when finally slick finger entered him, so gently that if in any way he had been reminded of the past it stopped there. Angelus had never been this loving, never taken the time to prepare him like this, stretching him, wetting him with his fingers and tongue until he thought he might just burst from the intensity. He was silently begging in his head when finally Angel’s cock pressed against his entrance and he held his breath as the blunt head stretched him to the point that he thought he might have to yell stop if he hadn’t known it so well, didn’t know after all these years exactly when it would pop inside, exactly how far in it would go, exactly how filled and complete he would feel when the whole length was settled inside his body.
They moved slowly at first, both of them getting used to the intensity and the familiarity of something you never forget no matter how many years pass by. They kept their eyes locked, trying to say with their gaze what they were both so inadequate at wording. Then Angel shifted slightly and the almost painful pleasure shot through Spike’s body, making him cry out and arch of the bed. “God yes. There, Angel. Please.”
He tried desperately to grab his cock but Angel took hold of his wrists and pinned them on either side of his head. Then he started thrusting faster and harder, aiming for that special spot, growling at the look of Spike writhing and moaning underneath him, begging him for more, more, more! “Please Angel! Yes! Oh God, yes. I need… I need…”
Angel finally let one of his wrists go but when Spike reached down Angel’s hand was already there, jerking him off in fast and hard motions in rhythm with his own thrusting that was becoming more erratic. Spike could feel the orgasm building in his balls and he struggled his other hand free from Angel’s sweaty grip and reached up to pull him in for a kiss. His tongue plunged into the gasping mouth and with a few jerks he was coming, his fingers clutching Angel’s hair. Through a daze he felt Angel stiffen and then he was crying out, pumping into him what felt like a years worth of pleasure.
They lay panting for a long time and when Angel finally rolled off him Spike shivered, the fresh air against his damp skin turning it prickly with goosebumps. Angel spooned him against his belly and pulled the covers over them. They were sweaty and sticky but Spike hadn’t felt so good since forever. He laid still, deep in thought, absentmindedly listening to Angel breathing into the back of his neck.
“You still want to stay?”
Angel’s voice sounded strangely nervous and Spike couldn’t help smiling. “I was just going to ask if you still wanted me to stay.”
“Oh.” There was silence for a while and then Angel pulled him even tighter into his embrace. “Well, that settles it. Welcome home.”
If he smelled the tears he didn’t mention it.
fin
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