Abandoned WIP - 'Tientsin' - Adult - Spike/Dru and Angelus
*waves*
Hello, hello! We are whiplashing the weather here - yesterday it was cloudy, drizzly, and *chilly* - today it's sunny, very warm, and a bit close. Who knows what tomorrow may bring!
I hope all of those that celebrate are enjoying their Memorial Day weekend, or Bank Holiday, or what have you. As for all others - hope your weekend has been good. :)
My iris are mostly done, but the mullein is about to bloom, and the mint is still going like a rocket. Plus, my lilies are still to bud, so! This little corner garden is my favorite thing ever, and I only wish I could do *more* with it.
And, here's the other one. :) I had plans! They were going to reach Sunnydale and it was going to be right around the time of 'The Pack', and Xander was going to be still a little Hyena!Xander (i do so love him), and wanting a pack, and of course Spike can help with that, and things would...go along and...and....
And I forget. *sigh*. But I hope you'll enjoy, anway. Starts in China with the Boxers and the Chinese Slayer, which was so fun to write. Not beta'd, of course. Enjoy! These will both be up on AO3 later today.
Tientsin was on fire. The Japanese had been shelling for days and the Grand Canal was thick with tugs and little boats shipping the wounded down to Teku. The Russians had a lock on the rail station and the British were still serving tea.
But the fire and the screaming were lovely, and there was a thick reek of fear and misery in the air. Spike guided Drusilla through the streets at a waltz; turn, step, step, dip and sway and turn again. Pause for a brief refreshment. The Boxers seemed to be losing, but then - they had been, all up and down the line. Spike had no doubt that they would ultimately lose everything. China was too rich a plum for the ten or twelve foreign nations who claimed interest here to let her revert. Her thighs, Spike mused, had been forced wide by the Americans and the Italians and the French - they would stay that way, through blood and screams.
"Do you think if you were very, very careful you could make it so they would scream only one note?" Dru looked up from the slim boy whose throat she was licking. "Can you imagine, Spike, how lovely a choir that would make, pretty boys like this all screaming in tune..." Dru looked down at the limp body and let the boy slide to the ground. He'd run across the trash-strewn street like a swallow, duck and dive and dart. But all his fluid grace was gone now and he folded into an awkward tangle, head lolling, sightless eyes half-open and rolling up white. "Of course, they'd have to be cut," Dru went on, her hand reaching out and cupping Spike through his trousers. She gave a short, sly tug at his sac. "Don't want them intact."
"I think it would take a lot of work, poppet, and I'm too lazy for that right now." Spike caught her fingers and laced them with his, tugging her into motion. Halfway across the street they had to dodge out of the way of a runaway dray, empty barrels rattling off the flat bed and tumbling across the cobblestones as the oxen plunged and bellowed. Three men scurried after it, trying to catch the oxen and only succeeding in spooking them further. Up the street came the sudden, rapid chatter of gunfire.
Something moved in the doorway of the shop half a block up and Spike's gaze stopped there for a moment, assessing. Whatever it was seemed to wish to be invisible and that made Spike grin. Nothing like flushing out the unwilling. But Dru was tugging his hand and he shrugged and abandoned his stalk, ignoring the prickling between his shoulder blades that had been there all night. Whatever it was that was watching them would come out, sooner or later. He was ready - he was always ready.
"Grandmama said to meet her at nine o'clock - is it nine o'clock, Spike? I've lost my time piece."
"Don't remember you having one, love," Spike said, sliding his arm around her waist and getting them headed toward the East gate. Darla had a house there, she said - said she had something to show them.
"Oh, yes, that lovely gold watch I took from that fat man at the chapel? It played a little tune -" Dru started to hum, jumbled notes a little off-key and Spike kicked a corpse aside - helped Dru manage her white skirts over a puddle of blood and mud. It had rained the night before, hot rain in a hot, stinking city and Spike was starting to get tired of this place. Revolution in the streets was all well and good, but the place stank; stank of the unburied dead and the silty canal and the coal everyone cooked with. Spike was fairly sure not one person in the city had had a bath in at least a fortnight and the plumbing was less than primitive in the face of the siege. The oppressive reek of humanity was starting to make him snarl at every little thing.
Whatever Darla had in mind tonight, that was it. Tomorrow at dusk he and Dru would find a train going south - or, baring that, one of the tugs that was transporting the wounded - and go down to Shanghai. Find passage somewhere a bit more...well, civilized. Spike wanted some new boots - wanted to spend a little of the gold they'd amassed and all the shops in Tientsin were bombed out - burning - boring. America or the Mediterranean - one of the two. Since Angelus had scarpered, Spike's desire to please Darla was at an all-time low and only Dru's persistent loyalty to her 'grandmama' kept him near her.
"Something's following us," Dru whispered, her lips brushing Spike's ear. Stirring the hair that he'd let grow long enough to pull back into a queue.
"Has been for a while, love. Reckon it'll show itself?"
"Ooh..." Dru paused to examine a broken shop window. "I think it'll show its true colors soon enough. Scarlet and silver, Spike. Scarlet and silver." Dru climbed through the window and wrestled a blood-red coat off a wicker dummy and put it on, smoothing the sleeves. "Now I look like Christmas," she said, and gave a little twirl.
"You look lovely. Best step lively now, though - Darla's waiting."
"With a treat! I just know it." Dru let Spike help her over the sill and they walked away arm in arm. The shadow...prickled, and Spike flashed a fanged grin. The mouse thought it was the cat. It would soon learn better.
The house Darla had taken over hadn't suffered much from the fighting and they slipped through the door and down the hall, the scent of blood coming faintly from what looked to be a closet. There was something else, too - a shiver in the air, familiar and alien at the same time. Dru stiffened on Spike's arm even as Spike felt his eyes go wide and shock run like a dash of cold water all through him, all thought of the shadow driven right out of his head.
"Angelus?" The dark figure by the fire turned and Spike felt a welcoming, incredulous grin stretch his mouth. "Where in bloody hell have you been, old man?" Dru had dropped his arm and was standing very still, her hands coming, trembling, up to her temples. Spike let her go and strode across the floor, pulling Angelus into a hard embrace. "Darla wouldn't be anything but sodding mysterious, saying you had 'things' - what bloody things?"
Angelus was stiff in his arms for a moment and then he moved - hugged back, his hand coming heavy and strong to the nape of Spike's neck. The air was thick and all but vibrating with Angelus Angelus but.... Something else there, too - something new. Angelus' grip loosened and he backed away, a serious look on his face. Spike kept one hand on his arm, squeezing just a little.
"William, I -"
"Oh...nooo...." Wail of pure panic from Dru, and Spike jerked around to stare at her, his hand sliding loose from Angelus' arm. Oh no, oh no, no no!"
Spike practically leapt across the room to catch Dru as she went to her knees. "Dru, love, what is it? What's wrong?"
"She can feel it. Like I can. Like you could, William, if you would just stop talking for one damn minute." Darla emerged from the shadows, her mouth grim and thin, a basket in her hands.
"Feel what? Dru - tell me -"
"Oooh, it's Daddy, poor Daddy, oh Spike - in him like a burning hot coal, like ice and fire wound up in thorns -" Dru shuddered in Spike's grasp, her eyes wide and blank and unseeing, her hands curling into claws and coming up to dig into her cheeks.
Spike batted her hands away, holding her close. "Angelus? What's - going on? There's something -"
"It's his soul, his filthy human soul - can't you smell it? Like offal." Darla's eyes blazed fierce gold. She drew herself up tall, straight and stiff and chin going up - that superior smirk on her face that most often made Spike want to slap her.
Angelus turned a hard look on her - came over to Spike and Dru and knelt awkwardly, reaching for Dru. She cringed, huddling into Spike's arms and Angelus' face fell. His fingers curled into fists for a moment and Spike hissed softly.
"Damnit, Will - I wasn't -" Angelus hit his thigh with his fist, scowling, then he reached out very slowly and tucked a lock of Dru's hair back behind her ear. She sobbed, turning her head away. "It's true, though. T'was gypsies. They...cursed me. They gave me my soul back, William. Crammed it down my fucking throat!"
Spike stared into Angelus' eyes, absently catching and holding Dru's wrists. Looking, and...he could see it. Shining in the depths, shimmer and flash like a school of silver minnows. He felt something, a painful twist of hurt and rage and fear in his breast. Wonder. "Angelus...a soul? Why did - what in hell happened? How did you piss off the bloody tinkers?"
"It doesn't matter how," Darla snapped, and Angelus turned a withering glare on her - one that made mortal and demon alike retreat. But not Darla. She held herself rigidly above them, the basket clasped so tightly in her hands that her knuckles were white - the tendons on the backs of her hands standing out in sharp relief. Something flickered in her gaze, some emotion that Spike couldn't name. Itlooked - like fear. When she spoke again, her voice was low and rasping - almost a whisper. "All that matters -"
"It does matter. He has a right to know!"
Darla opened her mouth again, looking almost desperate, but Dru cried out like a slapped child, interrupting her.
"No, please, don't - oh please don't." Dru twisted in Spike's arms and he lifted her up, holding her against him and gently brushing the hair back from her forehead. Angelus turned back to her, his face showing intense sorrow - bewilderment.
"Damnit, Dru... Can't you calm her, Will? You've learned the trick of it well enough."
"That's because I love her," Spike snapped, the old resentment and jealousy flaring in an instant - unease in the face of Darla's strange behavior. And Angelus looked away. Looked away. "Look - 'Gelus - what's going on? What's this about a curse?"
"William. There's something more important happening here," Darla snapped, and Dru twisted in Spike's arms, reaching for Angelus, her hands shaking.
"Please do it, won't you please come back to us? We've missed you so much."
"Yes. Come back to us, Angelus - show us your true nature." Darla knelt swiftly, uncovering the basket and Spike looked askance at the blanket-swaddled infant that lay inside, blinking sleepily up at them. Spike sneered. Babies just weren't worth the effort for the scant mouthful of blood they held. But Darla had a thing for them. Something about innocence - about ultimate sacrilege. It was all, in Spike's mind, too boring for words. Fangs and fists, that's all that really mattered. He patted Dru absently, watching, bewildered, as Angelus' gaze flicked away from the basket. It skittered madly about the room, as if he were trying to escape something.
Darla smiled down at the baby - smiled at Angelus, all little white teeth and scarlet lips, her ringed hand going out to cup Angelus' cheek. "You see? Such a little thing. Such a tiny - little thing." Her voice going from gravel to silk in a moment - her whole body curving toward Angelus in that way she had. That seduction that she had perfected, simple tilt of her chin and curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulders. Even Spike - wasn't immune. "You know you can, my darling boy - you know you want to."
Angelus was all but panting for breath and his voice, when it came, was strained and rough - too high. "Darla, can you not just -"
"No, I cannot just!" Darla reached into the basket and lifted the baby, who immediately started to squall. She shot to her feet, the baby dangling by one hand. Her chin going up and out again, neck stretching tall as she glared down at Angelus - at all of them. "You have to fight it, Angelus!"
Dru made a crooning noise down in her throat. "Oh, let me, grandmama! Let me hold it! Precious little morsel..." Dru held out her hands, struggling out of Spike's grasp and up onto her knees, but Darla ignored her - fumbled at the swaddling around the baby and bared its flushed, fat-rolled torso.
"It's for your daddy, Drusilla. It's his last chance." Darla had a little smile on her face - an arch little tilt to her head and Angelus seemed to shrink away from her. He pushed himself clumsily to his feet, backing away one step and then two and Spike wanted to snap at him - to slap him. Wanted him to tell Darla to go to fucking hell.
"Darla, don't you see? I can't! I just...can't." Angelus raked his hand back through his hair, taking another step away from Darla - from all of them. "You don't fucking understand, woman! Don't understand a damned thing." Angelus was glaring at her, fists clenched under the torn lace of his shirt. All but trembling like a dog being backed into a corner.
"I understand that you made a promise to me, Angelus," Darla hissed. She advanced slowly on Angelus as he backed away and the strident howls from the baby increased, making them all flinch just a little. "You swore you'd prove yourself to me. You swore that you would do what I asked, so I would take you back."
Spike stared up at Angelus in astonishment, seeing the look of rage and helplessness on his face. The fear. He felt his human guise shifting away and he stood as well, letting Dru stay there on her knees, arms held out to the baby, or Darla. To the stars, for all he knew. "Take him back? What does he mean, Darla? You said you had important things going, the sodding Master and..."
"Oh god, just shut up!" Darla snapped and Spike growled, advancing another step. Angry and afraid himself at the chaotic emotions coming from both of them.
Angelus looked frantically between Darla and Spike, back almost to the wall, now. "I - I promised that...I would -"
"That he'd kill! That he'd kill for me." Darla looked down at the baby, her vampiric aspect shifting to the fore. "You swore it, Angelus!" She closed the small distance between them, reaching up and taking Angelus' jaw in her hand. Sinking her nails into his flesh - making him look down. Making him meet her gaze. "I've been patient - I've been so damn patient even though your grizzling and whining makes me ill. It's time to keep your promise." She shoved the baby into his chest and Angelus recoiled, his shoulders hitting the wall.
"Angelus, what in bloody hell is going on!"
"I do kill, Darla - you saw! I've killed -"
"Rapists! Murderers! So-called evildoers. And when you can't find them? Rats. Angelus, living on rats!" Darla laughed suddenly, slightly hysterically and the baby screamed, its face red and twisted and awful. She shook Angelus' skull - let him go only to slap him, snapping his head around. "Can you imagine that, William? The great Angelus, stalking rats and cats and little lap dogs? Can you?" Angelus just stood there, head down and shoulders hunched.
Spike strode to Darla and snatched the baby away - turned and shoved it at Dru. "Make it be quiet, Dru, for God's sake! Can't think with all that racket." He turned back to Darla and Angelus, running his hand back through his hair. "Darla, I want a bloody explanation -"
"Will, don’t let Dru -"
"Don't let her what?" Darla put her hand in the middle of Angelus' chest, stopping his movement toward Dru. Behind Spike, the baby abruptly stopped crying. "Don't let her kill the little brat, like a proper vampire?"
"It's just a wee baby," Angelus cried, agony in his voice and Darla tipped her head back and roared in fury, loud enough to make them all flinch. She snatched her skirts around her and walked rapidly toward the door.
"It's just a human, Angelus. It's nothing to a demon. A real demon." She slammed out the door and into the fire-striped night and Spike looked back at Dru, who was crooning again. Stroking the baby's face and neck and lifting a red-smeared finger to her lips.
"Oh, God help me...Dru..." Angelus seemed to fold in on himself and he turned and leaned on a small japanned table in the corner, head bowed and eyes closed. Spike just stood there for a long moment, feeling almost dizzy from confusion. Nothing made any sense. Darla was - leaving them? Leaving Angelus and - Angelus with a soul... Spike shook his head with a snap. No. He'd puzzle this out later. Right now, he just wanted to get the hell out of this city - this revolution. He wanted to get back to civilization. And he wanted Angelus with them. Dru had missed him fiercely, and he knew she'd be devastated if Angelus left them again.
He might be jealous of the bastard, and what he meant to Dru...but it was her happiness that counted most. And he'd missed the damn bog-trotting bastard.
"Angelus..." Angelus shuddered and Spike lifted his hand, hesitating. Finally he let it drop, straightening his shoulders. The prickle was back. Their watcher, watching them again. Too close for comfort and he'd never felt less like fight then at that moment. "Never mind the sodding baby now, it's gone. Let's go down to the yards and get a car." Angelus shook his head slowly but Spike ignored him, leaning closer - trying to catch Angelus' gaze but Angelus refused to look up. Refused to see him.
"They're still running the train south, we'll get to Shanghai by dusk tomorrow and find passage on a steamer - head back home. Out of this fucking stinking mess. What'd you say?" Finally, finally, he put his hand on Angelus' sleeve and just then the shadow - came in.
Spike woke with a start, blinking into darkness. The powerful hum of a car engine all around, rumbling up his spine like a tiger's purr. He untwisted himself from his coat and sat up, stretching. Outside was nothing much. Distant sprinkles of small-town lights like grains of sugar and the sky open and wide above them, velvet black and diamond dust. There was even a sliver of moon and for a moment it could have been any time - any where.
But it wasn't. It was America - California. It was nowhere, heading toward Angelus' bloody destiny or fate or his worst sodding idea ever, Spike wasn't sure. He snorted softly to himself, feeling for his cigarettes and lighting up. In the front seat Dru was curled against Angelus' shoulder, humming softly to the radio. Trust Angelus to find some bloody soft-rock-pop-emo shite. It was Barry Manilow all over again, only more nasal.
"How far we got to go?" Spike asked, leaning forward and letting his hand drop onto Dru's hair, gently curling a lock around his fingers.
"About a hundred miles," Angelus said, shifting a little in his seat. One hand on the wheel, his arm around Dru's shoulders and for a moment Spike felt...cold. Then Angelus turned his head a little, slow smile, and Spike shook his head.
Fool.
"Spike was dreaming about the Slayer. Dreaming about her blood. How it burned the tip of his tongue and how it...sang. Sang to his bones..." Drusilla pushed her head a little, rubbing into Spike's fingers and then Angelus' shoulder and Angelus lost his smile.
"About - about this Buffy? Spike, you -"
"Nah. Chinese Slayer, Angelus. Was dreaming about that night, is all." Spike took a long drag and grinned when Angelus cracked the window. "Told you, won't be messing with your new - project. Divine fucking grail or whatever the fuck she is to you. I'll get my hat-trick some other day." Angelus huffed, looking like he was going to start another lecture and Spike leaned forward, twisting the radio dial to something else. Something loud and alive and full of fucking noise. Mostly he said stuff like that to get on the great git's nerves. Worked every time.
Drusilla sat up, laughing, and Angelus smiled at her and Spike turned around, looking out the back window. His DeSoto was a quarter mile back, driven by that Dalton bloke they'd picked up in Prague. The one who was going to help them get Dru well again - maybe help sort the shite from the truth in the nonsense Whistler seemed to spout at Angelus every time they spoke.
Pretty poor showing for Angelus, Drusilla, and William the Bloody. But Angelus wanted them to come in low and to stay low - keep to the shadows, as if they had a bloody choice. There were rumors that the Master - Darla's sire and the oldest vampire of the line - was on the Hellmouth. Lurking or plotting or - something. Angelus hadn't heard news of him years, and Spike and Dru had never met him - he'd disappeared before they were even made. And good riddance, Spike thought, because the last thing he needed was another bloody great poufter thinking he was in charge.
Angelus said that whatever vamps they'd find at the Hellmouth they'd clear out. Mongrels, he called them, growling a little, and Spike had laughed and told him his lace curtain pretensions were showing. Which had earned Spike a thump that he'd given right back which had turned into...something else. Angelus fucked best when he was angry.
"There's all sorts of hidden plots and secrets in the Hellmouth," Dru said, tipping her head back and pursing her lips and Spike dropped a kiss on them. "Grave plots and story plots and...so many wonderful little tricks and traps we're going to spring."
"Rather be springing the traps on them," Spike told her, and she caught his hand in her long fingers and guided his cigarette to her mouth, sipping minutely at the smoke.
"Oh, never fear, Spike - we'll surprise them all."
"Your lips, God's ear," Spike murmured, kissing her again, and Dru giggled, and Angelus reached out and changed the station back.
ETA: For a truly excellent bit of Supernatural finale meta/review, go to blackcat333_99's LJ. Love it!
Originally entered at http://tabaqui.dreamwidth.org/177271.html - comment where you please!
Hello, hello! We are whiplashing the weather here - yesterday it was cloudy, drizzly, and *chilly* - today it's sunny, very warm, and a bit close. Who knows what tomorrow may bring!
I hope all of those that celebrate are enjoying their Memorial Day weekend, or Bank Holiday, or what have you. As for all others - hope your weekend has been good. :)
My iris are mostly done, but the mullein is about to bloom, and the mint is still going like a rocket. Plus, my lilies are still to bud, so! This little corner garden is my favorite thing ever, and I only wish I could do *more* with it.
And, here's the other one. :) I had plans! They were going to reach Sunnydale and it was going to be right around the time of 'The Pack', and Xander was going to be still a little Hyena!Xander (i do so love him), and wanting a pack, and of course Spike can help with that, and things would...go along and...and....
And I forget. *sigh*. But I hope you'll enjoy, anway. Starts in China with the Boxers and the Chinese Slayer, which was so fun to write. Not beta'd, of course. Enjoy! These will both be up on AO3 later today.
Tientsin was on fire. The Japanese had been shelling for days and the Grand Canal was thick with tugs and little boats shipping the wounded down to Teku. The Russians had a lock on the rail station and the British were still serving tea.
But the fire and the screaming were lovely, and there was a thick reek of fear and misery in the air. Spike guided Drusilla through the streets at a waltz; turn, step, step, dip and sway and turn again. Pause for a brief refreshment. The Boxers seemed to be losing, but then - they had been, all up and down the line. Spike had no doubt that they would ultimately lose everything. China was too rich a plum for the ten or twelve foreign nations who claimed interest here to let her revert. Her thighs, Spike mused, had been forced wide by the Americans and the Italians and the French - they would stay that way, through blood and screams.
"Do you think if you were very, very careful you could make it so they would scream only one note?" Dru looked up from the slim boy whose throat she was licking. "Can you imagine, Spike, how lovely a choir that would make, pretty boys like this all screaming in tune..." Dru looked down at the limp body and let the boy slide to the ground. He'd run across the trash-strewn street like a swallow, duck and dive and dart. But all his fluid grace was gone now and he folded into an awkward tangle, head lolling, sightless eyes half-open and rolling up white. "Of course, they'd have to be cut," Dru went on, her hand reaching out and cupping Spike through his trousers. She gave a short, sly tug at his sac. "Don't want them intact."
"I think it would take a lot of work, poppet, and I'm too lazy for that right now." Spike caught her fingers and laced them with his, tugging her into motion. Halfway across the street they had to dodge out of the way of a runaway dray, empty barrels rattling off the flat bed and tumbling across the cobblestones as the oxen plunged and bellowed. Three men scurried after it, trying to catch the oxen and only succeeding in spooking them further. Up the street came the sudden, rapid chatter of gunfire.
Something moved in the doorway of the shop half a block up and Spike's gaze stopped there for a moment, assessing. Whatever it was seemed to wish to be invisible and that made Spike grin. Nothing like flushing out the unwilling. But Dru was tugging his hand and he shrugged and abandoned his stalk, ignoring the prickling between his shoulder blades that had been there all night. Whatever it was that was watching them would come out, sooner or later. He was ready - he was always ready.
"Grandmama said to meet her at nine o'clock - is it nine o'clock, Spike? I've lost my time piece."
"Don't remember you having one, love," Spike said, sliding his arm around her waist and getting them headed toward the East gate. Darla had a house there, she said - said she had something to show them.
"Oh, yes, that lovely gold watch I took from that fat man at the chapel? It played a little tune -" Dru started to hum, jumbled notes a little off-key and Spike kicked a corpse aside - helped Dru manage her white skirts over a puddle of blood and mud. It had rained the night before, hot rain in a hot, stinking city and Spike was starting to get tired of this place. Revolution in the streets was all well and good, but the place stank; stank of the unburied dead and the silty canal and the coal everyone cooked with. Spike was fairly sure not one person in the city had had a bath in at least a fortnight and the plumbing was less than primitive in the face of the siege. The oppressive reek of humanity was starting to make him snarl at every little thing.
Whatever Darla had in mind tonight, that was it. Tomorrow at dusk he and Dru would find a train going south - or, baring that, one of the tugs that was transporting the wounded - and go down to Shanghai. Find passage somewhere a bit more...well, civilized. Spike wanted some new boots - wanted to spend a little of the gold they'd amassed and all the shops in Tientsin were bombed out - burning - boring. America or the Mediterranean - one of the two. Since Angelus had scarpered, Spike's desire to please Darla was at an all-time low and only Dru's persistent loyalty to her 'grandmama' kept him near her.
"Something's following us," Dru whispered, her lips brushing Spike's ear. Stirring the hair that he'd let grow long enough to pull back into a queue.
"Has been for a while, love. Reckon it'll show itself?"
"Ooh..." Dru paused to examine a broken shop window. "I think it'll show its true colors soon enough. Scarlet and silver, Spike. Scarlet and silver." Dru climbed through the window and wrestled a blood-red coat off a wicker dummy and put it on, smoothing the sleeves. "Now I look like Christmas," she said, and gave a little twirl.
"You look lovely. Best step lively now, though - Darla's waiting."
"With a treat! I just know it." Dru let Spike help her over the sill and they walked away arm in arm. The shadow...prickled, and Spike flashed a fanged grin. The mouse thought it was the cat. It would soon learn better.
The house Darla had taken over hadn't suffered much from the fighting and they slipped through the door and down the hall, the scent of blood coming faintly from what looked to be a closet. There was something else, too - a shiver in the air, familiar and alien at the same time. Dru stiffened on Spike's arm even as Spike felt his eyes go wide and shock run like a dash of cold water all through him, all thought of the shadow driven right out of his head.
"Angelus?" The dark figure by the fire turned and Spike felt a welcoming, incredulous grin stretch his mouth. "Where in bloody hell have you been, old man?" Dru had dropped his arm and was standing very still, her hands coming, trembling, up to her temples. Spike let her go and strode across the floor, pulling Angelus into a hard embrace. "Darla wouldn't be anything but sodding mysterious, saying you had 'things' - what bloody things?"
Angelus was stiff in his arms for a moment and then he moved - hugged back, his hand coming heavy and strong to the nape of Spike's neck. The air was thick and all but vibrating with Angelus Angelus but.... Something else there, too - something new. Angelus' grip loosened and he backed away, a serious look on his face. Spike kept one hand on his arm, squeezing just a little.
"William, I -"
"Oh...nooo...." Wail of pure panic from Dru, and Spike jerked around to stare at her, his hand sliding loose from Angelus' arm. Oh no, oh no, no no!"
Spike practically leapt across the room to catch Dru as she went to her knees. "Dru, love, what is it? What's wrong?"
"She can feel it. Like I can. Like you could, William, if you would just stop talking for one damn minute." Darla emerged from the shadows, her mouth grim and thin, a basket in her hands.
"Feel what? Dru - tell me -"
"Oooh, it's Daddy, poor Daddy, oh Spike - in him like a burning hot coal, like ice and fire wound up in thorns -" Dru shuddered in Spike's grasp, her eyes wide and blank and unseeing, her hands curling into claws and coming up to dig into her cheeks.
Spike batted her hands away, holding her close. "Angelus? What's - going on? There's something -"
"It's his soul, his filthy human soul - can't you smell it? Like offal." Darla's eyes blazed fierce gold. She drew herself up tall, straight and stiff and chin going up - that superior smirk on her face that most often made Spike want to slap her.
Angelus turned a hard look on her - came over to Spike and Dru and knelt awkwardly, reaching for Dru. She cringed, huddling into Spike's arms and Angelus' face fell. His fingers curled into fists for a moment and Spike hissed softly.
"Damnit, Will - I wasn't -" Angelus hit his thigh with his fist, scowling, then he reached out very slowly and tucked a lock of Dru's hair back behind her ear. She sobbed, turning her head away. "It's true, though. T'was gypsies. They...cursed me. They gave me my soul back, William. Crammed it down my fucking throat!"
Spike stared into Angelus' eyes, absently catching and holding Dru's wrists. Looking, and...he could see it. Shining in the depths, shimmer and flash like a school of silver minnows. He felt something, a painful twist of hurt and rage and fear in his breast. Wonder. "Angelus...a soul? Why did - what in hell happened? How did you piss off the bloody tinkers?"
"It doesn't matter how," Darla snapped, and Angelus turned a withering glare on her - one that made mortal and demon alike retreat. But not Darla. She held herself rigidly above them, the basket clasped so tightly in her hands that her knuckles were white - the tendons on the backs of her hands standing out in sharp relief. Something flickered in her gaze, some emotion that Spike couldn't name. Itlooked - like fear. When she spoke again, her voice was low and rasping - almost a whisper. "All that matters -"
"It does matter. He has a right to know!"
Darla opened her mouth again, looking almost desperate, but Dru cried out like a slapped child, interrupting her.
"No, please, don't - oh please don't." Dru twisted in Spike's arms and he lifted her up, holding her against him and gently brushing the hair back from her forehead. Angelus turned back to her, his face showing intense sorrow - bewilderment.
"Damnit, Dru... Can't you calm her, Will? You've learned the trick of it well enough."
"That's because I love her," Spike snapped, the old resentment and jealousy flaring in an instant - unease in the face of Darla's strange behavior. And Angelus looked away. Looked away. "Look - 'Gelus - what's going on? What's this about a curse?"
"William. There's something more important happening here," Darla snapped, and Dru twisted in Spike's arms, reaching for Angelus, her hands shaking.
"Please do it, won't you please come back to us? We've missed you so much."
"Yes. Come back to us, Angelus - show us your true nature." Darla knelt swiftly, uncovering the basket and Spike looked askance at the blanket-swaddled infant that lay inside, blinking sleepily up at them. Spike sneered. Babies just weren't worth the effort for the scant mouthful of blood they held. But Darla had a thing for them. Something about innocence - about ultimate sacrilege. It was all, in Spike's mind, too boring for words. Fangs and fists, that's all that really mattered. He patted Dru absently, watching, bewildered, as Angelus' gaze flicked away from the basket. It skittered madly about the room, as if he were trying to escape something.
Darla smiled down at the baby - smiled at Angelus, all little white teeth and scarlet lips, her ringed hand going out to cup Angelus' cheek. "You see? Such a little thing. Such a tiny - little thing." Her voice going from gravel to silk in a moment - her whole body curving toward Angelus in that way she had. That seduction that she had perfected, simple tilt of her chin and curve of her neck, the slope of her shoulders. Even Spike - wasn't immune. "You know you can, my darling boy - you know you want to."
Angelus was all but panting for breath and his voice, when it came, was strained and rough - too high. "Darla, can you not just -"
"No, I cannot just!" Darla reached into the basket and lifted the baby, who immediately started to squall. She shot to her feet, the baby dangling by one hand. Her chin going up and out again, neck stretching tall as she glared down at Angelus - at all of them. "You have to fight it, Angelus!"
Dru made a crooning noise down in her throat. "Oh, let me, grandmama! Let me hold it! Precious little morsel..." Dru held out her hands, struggling out of Spike's grasp and up onto her knees, but Darla ignored her - fumbled at the swaddling around the baby and bared its flushed, fat-rolled torso.
"It's for your daddy, Drusilla. It's his last chance." Darla had a little smile on her face - an arch little tilt to her head and Angelus seemed to shrink away from her. He pushed himself clumsily to his feet, backing away one step and then two and Spike wanted to snap at him - to slap him. Wanted him to tell Darla to go to fucking hell.
"Darla, don't you see? I can't! I just...can't." Angelus raked his hand back through his hair, taking another step away from Darla - from all of them. "You don't fucking understand, woman! Don't understand a damned thing." Angelus was glaring at her, fists clenched under the torn lace of his shirt. All but trembling like a dog being backed into a corner.
"I understand that you made a promise to me, Angelus," Darla hissed. She advanced slowly on Angelus as he backed away and the strident howls from the baby increased, making them all flinch just a little. "You swore you'd prove yourself to me. You swore that you would do what I asked, so I would take you back."
Spike stared up at Angelus in astonishment, seeing the look of rage and helplessness on his face. The fear. He felt his human guise shifting away and he stood as well, letting Dru stay there on her knees, arms held out to the baby, or Darla. To the stars, for all he knew. "Take him back? What does he mean, Darla? You said you had important things going, the sodding Master and..."
"Oh god, just shut up!" Darla snapped and Spike growled, advancing another step. Angry and afraid himself at the chaotic emotions coming from both of them.
Angelus looked frantically between Darla and Spike, back almost to the wall, now. "I - I promised that...I would -"
"That he'd kill! That he'd kill for me." Darla looked down at the baby, her vampiric aspect shifting to the fore. "You swore it, Angelus!" She closed the small distance between them, reaching up and taking Angelus' jaw in her hand. Sinking her nails into his flesh - making him look down. Making him meet her gaze. "I've been patient - I've been so damn patient even though your grizzling and whining makes me ill. It's time to keep your promise." She shoved the baby into his chest and Angelus recoiled, his shoulders hitting the wall.
"Angelus, what in bloody hell is going on!"
"I do kill, Darla - you saw! I've killed -"
"Rapists! Murderers! So-called evildoers. And when you can't find them? Rats. Angelus, living on rats!" Darla laughed suddenly, slightly hysterically and the baby screamed, its face red and twisted and awful. She shook Angelus' skull - let him go only to slap him, snapping his head around. "Can you imagine that, William? The great Angelus, stalking rats and cats and little lap dogs? Can you?" Angelus just stood there, head down and shoulders hunched.
Spike strode to Darla and snatched the baby away - turned and shoved it at Dru. "Make it be quiet, Dru, for God's sake! Can't think with all that racket." He turned back to Darla and Angelus, running his hand back through his hair. "Darla, I want a bloody explanation -"
"Will, don’t let Dru -"
"Don't let her what?" Darla put her hand in the middle of Angelus' chest, stopping his movement toward Dru. Behind Spike, the baby abruptly stopped crying. "Don't let her kill the little brat, like a proper vampire?"
"It's just a wee baby," Angelus cried, agony in his voice and Darla tipped her head back and roared in fury, loud enough to make them all flinch. She snatched her skirts around her and walked rapidly toward the door.
"It's just a human, Angelus. It's nothing to a demon. A real demon." She slammed out the door and into the fire-striped night and Spike looked back at Dru, who was crooning again. Stroking the baby's face and neck and lifting a red-smeared finger to her lips.
"Oh, God help me...Dru..." Angelus seemed to fold in on himself and he turned and leaned on a small japanned table in the corner, head bowed and eyes closed. Spike just stood there for a long moment, feeling almost dizzy from confusion. Nothing made any sense. Darla was - leaving them? Leaving Angelus and - Angelus with a soul... Spike shook his head with a snap. No. He'd puzzle this out later. Right now, he just wanted to get the hell out of this city - this revolution. He wanted to get back to civilization. And he wanted Angelus with them. Dru had missed him fiercely, and he knew she'd be devastated if Angelus left them again.
He might be jealous of the bastard, and what he meant to Dru...but it was her happiness that counted most. And he'd missed the damn bog-trotting bastard.
"Angelus..." Angelus shuddered and Spike lifted his hand, hesitating. Finally he let it drop, straightening his shoulders. The prickle was back. Their watcher, watching them again. Too close for comfort and he'd never felt less like fight then at that moment. "Never mind the sodding baby now, it's gone. Let's go down to the yards and get a car." Angelus shook his head slowly but Spike ignored him, leaning closer - trying to catch Angelus' gaze but Angelus refused to look up. Refused to see him.
"They're still running the train south, we'll get to Shanghai by dusk tomorrow and find passage on a steamer - head back home. Out of this fucking stinking mess. What'd you say?" Finally, finally, he put his hand on Angelus' sleeve and just then the shadow - came in.
Spike woke with a start, blinking into darkness. The powerful hum of a car engine all around, rumbling up his spine like a tiger's purr. He untwisted himself from his coat and sat up, stretching. Outside was nothing much. Distant sprinkles of small-town lights like grains of sugar and the sky open and wide above them, velvet black and diamond dust. There was even a sliver of moon and for a moment it could have been any time - any where.
But it wasn't. It was America - California. It was nowhere, heading toward Angelus' bloody destiny or fate or his worst sodding idea ever, Spike wasn't sure. He snorted softly to himself, feeling for his cigarettes and lighting up. In the front seat Dru was curled against Angelus' shoulder, humming softly to the radio. Trust Angelus to find some bloody soft-rock-pop-emo shite. It was Barry Manilow all over again, only more nasal.
"How far we got to go?" Spike asked, leaning forward and letting his hand drop onto Dru's hair, gently curling a lock around his fingers.
"About a hundred miles," Angelus said, shifting a little in his seat. One hand on the wheel, his arm around Dru's shoulders and for a moment Spike felt...cold. Then Angelus turned his head a little, slow smile, and Spike shook his head.
Fool.
"Spike was dreaming about the Slayer. Dreaming about her blood. How it burned the tip of his tongue and how it...sang. Sang to his bones..." Drusilla pushed her head a little, rubbing into Spike's fingers and then Angelus' shoulder and Angelus lost his smile.
"About - about this Buffy? Spike, you -"
"Nah. Chinese Slayer, Angelus. Was dreaming about that night, is all." Spike took a long drag and grinned when Angelus cracked the window. "Told you, won't be messing with your new - project. Divine fucking grail or whatever the fuck she is to you. I'll get my hat-trick some other day." Angelus huffed, looking like he was going to start another lecture and Spike leaned forward, twisting the radio dial to something else. Something loud and alive and full of fucking noise. Mostly he said stuff like that to get on the great git's nerves. Worked every time.
Drusilla sat up, laughing, and Angelus smiled at her and Spike turned around, looking out the back window. His DeSoto was a quarter mile back, driven by that Dalton bloke they'd picked up in Prague. The one who was going to help them get Dru well again - maybe help sort the shite from the truth in the nonsense Whistler seemed to spout at Angelus every time they spoke.
Pretty poor showing for Angelus, Drusilla, and William the Bloody. But Angelus wanted them to come in low and to stay low - keep to the shadows, as if they had a bloody choice. There were rumors that the Master - Darla's sire and the oldest vampire of the line - was on the Hellmouth. Lurking or plotting or - something. Angelus hadn't heard news of him years, and Spike and Dru had never met him - he'd disappeared before they were even made. And good riddance, Spike thought, because the last thing he needed was another bloody great poufter thinking he was in charge.
Angelus said that whatever vamps they'd find at the Hellmouth they'd clear out. Mongrels, he called them, growling a little, and Spike had laughed and told him his lace curtain pretensions were showing. Which had earned Spike a thump that he'd given right back which had turned into...something else. Angelus fucked best when he was angry.
"There's all sorts of hidden plots and secrets in the Hellmouth," Dru said, tipping her head back and pursing her lips and Spike dropped a kiss on them. "Grave plots and story plots and...so many wonderful little tricks and traps we're going to spring."
"Rather be springing the traps on them," Spike told her, and she caught his hand in her long fingers and guided his cigarette to her mouth, sipping minutely at the smoke.
"Oh, never fear, Spike - we'll surprise them all."
"Your lips, God's ear," Spike murmured, kissing her again, and Dru giggled, and Angelus reached out and changed the station back.
ETA: For a truly excellent bit of Supernatural finale meta/review, go to blackcat333_99's LJ. Love it!
Originally entered at http://tabaqui.dreamwidth.org/177271.html - comment where you please!