The Artifact: Chapter Eighteen
Here's that Dick!Angel I promised!
<-- Previous Chapter
Chapter One Here
Chapter Eighteen: Epiphany
Spike didn’t bother swinging by the crypt to pack. When the Slayer decided to slay and you could be ordered not to fight back, you didn’t stop to pack. He took his quickest route to the Restfield parking lot.
Blame his hurry for not noticing the convertible parked next to his Desoto. Ditto not noticing Angel until the other vampire was standing in front of him with a hand on the car door, blocking him from getting in.
Spike tried to calculate how much time it would take to beat down Peaches, and if he had that much time before Buffy caught up, or if a well-chosen phrase would be better.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Angel said.
“I have. Ghost of the bloke who stood in my way.” He gave Angel what he hopped was a meaningful glare.
“I thought we could talk,” Angel said, frowning, hands in pockets, looking like he had some emotional constipation he wanted to work out. The big girl’s blouse. That could take all day.
Spike decided it was safer just to get him out of there. “Hop in. We can talk on the road.”
Angel gave the Desoto a disparaging look. “No way. We’re taking the Plymouth.”
Fuck. He loved the Desoto. He hoped he could come back for it. He hopped into the passenger seat of the poof mobile. “Just drive. Out of here.”
Angel just drove. Thank fuck for small favors. Spike twisted about, checking for approaching slayers as Angel made his way at god-damned-legal-speed to the freeway.
Then the poof started to talk. “I smashed a guy’s hand today.”
“So help me if you start nattering about how poetic or beautiful it was…”
Angel used turning onto the on-ramp as an excuse to give Spike a disgusted glare. “That’s Angelus.”
Spike turned all the way around in his seat, watching Revello Drive vanish, and then Main Street. “Come off it. If you were really two separate people, you wouldn’t have the same miserable taste in music.” He was almost free and clear. He’d just have to wait for Angel to stop the car and he could make his second escape.
“What are you looking… wait, it’s Buffy, isn’t it? You’ve pissed her off at last. I’m turning around.”
“No!” Spike said, defensively. He hunched down in his seat, unable to think of a convincing lie. “Just drive. Wanker. Drop me off wherever.”
“No, Spike, you see, I had this epiphany…”
“Epiphanies. Bollocks. Either you’re getting a literature degree or you really ARE the same bloke as Angelus.”
“I slept with Darla,” Angel said, at the road, like it was the road’s fault.
That was odd. Was the old tosser feeling guilty about his past relationships as well as all the good stuff?
“…and okay, I acted a little, tiny bit evil. I killed some people who REALLY had it coming and pissed off all my friends.” This was promising. He was sounding a lot less goody-goody than the last time they spoke. Until he sighed all soul-heavy and said, “I have had one of the worst weeks.”
“Well, mine has been grand by comparison.” Spike batted his eyelashes. “Ever embarrass a hell god?”
“It doesn’t have to be a competition.”
“Of course not, Poof. Just funnier that way.”
Angel had that angry determined face, like he would knock a brick wall down with his forehead rather than change direction. Spike sure hoped he knew where he was driving.
“Forget all that. Let me skip to the end: You kissed me,” Angel said. There was an edge of accusation.
Spike had to change the direction of this conversation fast. “I kiss a lot of people. When they aren’t being wankers. Think you can let me off at this next exit. Should be far enough away to keep me clear of angry hell gods.”
Angel passed the exit. “So I was thinking about that kiss, the other night, when I was with Darla…”
“Wait… Darla? That was recent? Dru told me she was dead. Said YOU killed her.”
Angel scowled. “Let me finish a sentence, would you?”
Spike felt compelled to be silent. Damn it. He raised his brows and made his most sarcastic “I’m listening” expression.
Angel glanced at him, twice, and got a hint of a smirk. That wasn’t a good sign. “Yeah, about that kiss…”
He signaled and swerved into a rest area so fast that Spike had to hang on to the door. Then he slammed to a stop and jerked the parking brake up. He rested his arm on the steering wheel. The smirk was definitely in place, now. “I want another one.”
Well, at least that was a finished sentence. Spike coughed. “Um… uh…”
“Now, Spike,” Angel said, and his eyes were glittering with delight.
And just like that Spike was moving closer, grabbing the rotten tosser’s sleeve and sliding into his lap. Was that triumph or confusion? Spike wished Angel were easier to read. He kissed him. He meant to make it a cold peck, but Angel brought his arms tight around him and opened his mouth, licking Spike’s tongue out of his own mouth.
Well, it wasn’t so terrible, kissing Angel, and it wasn’t proof positive that the poof knew what was going on. Spike let himself relax into it, the comfort and pleasure, being held.
They both sighed when the kiss ended, and Angel gave him a surprising, gentle squeeze.
“Liam…”
“Shut up, and get back in your seat.”
Spike was shocked by the cold tone. He did as told, of course he did, damn it.
Angel said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He put the car in gear and pulled back onto the freeway.
Spike’s mind raced. “What was what you thought?”
“You had to do what I said. It’s the only reason you’d ever kiss me. Now be quiet, I’m driving.”
Spike watched the exits pass as they made their way into Los Angeles and wondered if he had the guts to launch himself into traffic.
***
Buffy found Giles pacing the back of the magic shop. He had a few books spread open and a crumpled note in his hand that he kept looking at. The air was heavy with incense and hot with burning candles.
She didn’t have time for this. “Giles? I can’t find Spike.”
Giles didn’t look up from the note. “Hm? Oh… yes… just a moment, please. I was just in a trance…”
“This is no time for trancing. Spike is GONE. I need him, now, because Glory is on her way and we’re going to die.”
Giles blinked distractedly. “It was supposed to reveal magics, but the note just says… I’m sorry? What about Glory?”
“Glory knows Dawn is the key. I need Spike. We’re getting out of here, NOW.”
“What on earth would you need Spike for?”
Buffy had hoped to present this as a done deal, but… “My plan involves getting all of us out of here, and we need a van or something, and Spike’s the only experienced car thief I know.”
Oddly, Giles got a slight smile at that, but he quickly cooled his features. “Perhaps thievery is not necessary. Get everyone together. I… may have a solution.” He looked down at his paper again.
Buffy wanted to smack him, but she was pretty sure that wouldn’t speed things up. “Okay. We’ll be at Xander’s place. Hurry.”
Continued -->
<-- Previous Chapter
Chapter One Here
Chapter Eighteen: Epiphany
Spike didn’t bother swinging by the crypt to pack. When the Slayer decided to slay and you could be ordered not to fight back, you didn’t stop to pack. He took his quickest route to the Restfield parking lot.
Blame his hurry for not noticing the convertible parked next to his Desoto. Ditto not noticing Angel until the other vampire was standing in front of him with a hand on the car door, blocking him from getting in.
Spike tried to calculate how much time it would take to beat down Peaches, and if he had that much time before Buffy caught up, or if a well-chosen phrase would be better.
“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Angel said.
“I have. Ghost of the bloke who stood in my way.” He gave Angel what he hopped was a meaningful glare.
“I thought we could talk,” Angel said, frowning, hands in pockets, looking like he had some emotional constipation he wanted to work out. The big girl’s blouse. That could take all day.
Spike decided it was safer just to get him out of there. “Hop in. We can talk on the road.”
Angel gave the Desoto a disparaging look. “No way. We’re taking the Plymouth.”
Fuck. He loved the Desoto. He hoped he could come back for it. He hopped into the passenger seat of the poof mobile. “Just drive. Out of here.”
Angel just drove. Thank fuck for small favors. Spike twisted about, checking for approaching slayers as Angel made his way at god-damned-legal-speed to the freeway.
Then the poof started to talk. “I smashed a guy’s hand today.”
“So help me if you start nattering about how poetic or beautiful it was…”
Angel used turning onto the on-ramp as an excuse to give Spike a disgusted glare. “That’s Angelus.”
Spike turned all the way around in his seat, watching Revello Drive vanish, and then Main Street. “Come off it. If you were really two separate people, you wouldn’t have the same miserable taste in music.” He was almost free and clear. He’d just have to wait for Angel to stop the car and he could make his second escape.
“What are you looking… wait, it’s Buffy, isn’t it? You’ve pissed her off at last. I’m turning around.”
“No!” Spike said, defensively. He hunched down in his seat, unable to think of a convincing lie. “Just drive. Wanker. Drop me off wherever.”
“No, Spike, you see, I had this epiphany…”
“Epiphanies. Bollocks. Either you’re getting a literature degree or you really ARE the same bloke as Angelus.”
“I slept with Darla,” Angel said, at the road, like it was the road’s fault.
That was odd. Was the old tosser feeling guilty about his past relationships as well as all the good stuff?
“…and okay, I acted a little, tiny bit evil. I killed some people who REALLY had it coming and pissed off all my friends.” This was promising. He was sounding a lot less goody-goody than the last time they spoke. Until he sighed all soul-heavy and said, “I have had one of the worst weeks.”
“Well, mine has been grand by comparison.” Spike batted his eyelashes. “Ever embarrass a hell god?”
“It doesn’t have to be a competition.”
“Of course not, Poof. Just funnier that way.”
Angel had that angry determined face, like he would knock a brick wall down with his forehead rather than change direction. Spike sure hoped he knew where he was driving.
“Forget all that. Let me skip to the end: You kissed me,” Angel said. There was an edge of accusation.
Spike had to change the direction of this conversation fast. “I kiss a lot of people. When they aren’t being wankers. Think you can let me off at this next exit. Should be far enough away to keep me clear of angry hell gods.”
Angel passed the exit. “So I was thinking about that kiss, the other night, when I was with Darla…”
“Wait… Darla? That was recent? Dru told me she was dead. Said YOU killed her.”
Angel scowled. “Let me finish a sentence, would you?”
Spike felt compelled to be silent. Damn it. He raised his brows and made his most sarcastic “I’m listening” expression.
Angel glanced at him, twice, and got a hint of a smirk. That wasn’t a good sign. “Yeah, about that kiss…”
He signaled and swerved into a rest area so fast that Spike had to hang on to the door. Then he slammed to a stop and jerked the parking brake up. He rested his arm on the steering wheel. The smirk was definitely in place, now. “I want another one.”
Well, at least that was a finished sentence. Spike coughed. “Um… uh…”
“Now, Spike,” Angel said, and his eyes were glittering with delight.
And just like that Spike was moving closer, grabbing the rotten tosser’s sleeve and sliding into his lap. Was that triumph or confusion? Spike wished Angel were easier to read. He kissed him. He meant to make it a cold peck, but Angel brought his arms tight around him and opened his mouth, licking Spike’s tongue out of his own mouth.
Well, it wasn’t so terrible, kissing Angel, and it wasn’t proof positive that the poof knew what was going on. Spike let himself relax into it, the comfort and pleasure, being held.
They both sighed when the kiss ended, and Angel gave him a surprising, gentle squeeze.
“Liam…”
“Shut up, and get back in your seat.”
Spike was shocked by the cold tone. He did as told, of course he did, damn it.
Angel said, “Yeah, that’s what I thought.” He put the car in gear and pulled back onto the freeway.
Spike’s mind raced. “What was what you thought?”
“You had to do what I said. It’s the only reason you’d ever kiss me. Now be quiet, I’m driving.”
Spike watched the exits pass as they made their way into Los Angeles and wondered if he had the guts to launch himself into traffic.
***
Buffy found Giles pacing the back of the magic shop. He had a few books spread open and a crumpled note in his hand that he kept looking at. The air was heavy with incense and hot with burning candles.
She didn’t have time for this. “Giles? I can’t find Spike.”
Giles didn’t look up from the note. “Hm? Oh… yes… just a moment, please. I was just in a trance…”
“This is no time for trancing. Spike is GONE. I need him, now, because Glory is on her way and we’re going to die.”
Giles blinked distractedly. “It was supposed to reveal magics, but the note just says… I’m sorry? What about Glory?”
“Glory knows Dawn is the key. I need Spike. We’re getting out of here, NOW.”
“What on earth would you need Spike for?”
Buffy had hoped to present this as a done deal, but… “My plan involves getting all of us out of here, and we need a van or something, and Spike’s the only experienced car thief I know.”
Oddly, Giles got a slight smile at that, but he quickly cooled his features. “Perhaps thievery is not necessary. Get everyone together. I… may have a solution.” He looked down at his paper again.
Buffy wanted to smack him, but she was pretty sure that wouldn’t speed things up. “Okay. We’ll be at Xander’s place. Hurry.”
Continued -->