You Won't Be Mine (Chapter 3)
Title: You Won't Be Mine (Chapter 3)
Author: thelastchickpea
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Bartleby/Loki (from Dogma), Spike/Bartleby
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: See AN. Slash (m/m sex), angst, crossover with Dogma
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, background story, or title. It's not for profit so please don't sue.
Spoilers: Post-NFA (so all AtS to be safe) and all Dogma is spoiled.
Summary: It's after the final battle, and Spike waited for Angel to be ready until he couldn't wait anymore. Spike's got a life of his own now and Angel might want another chance.
AN/Warning: This story is only a crossover in that 3 characters from the film Dogma are incorporated in the BtVS/AtS-verse. Therefore, in this story, “The Powers That Be” will be the all-powerful entity. In this piece of fiction, angels are just specific demons created by TPTB to keep humans in line. They'll be doing some demon-y stuff (and they have, um, tackle, which is explained in the fic).
Feedback: Yes please! Constructive feedback, typo-catches, or just letting me know you're reading is much appreciated :)
AN: This chapter is dedicated to the awesome
zoesmith. There's a piece in this chapter about the angels' story which I pretty much wrote because she was curious :) I'm completely up for suggestions, so if you want to see something or want to know a particular scene from the past, let me know and if it can fit and I think I can write it well, I'll do it. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3
This was not how Angel had envisioned his arrival to Milwaukee. He had hoped to get into the airport before dawn, get to a hotel, rest up and then get to Spike the next night at his apartment. It would have been fine.
But did it work that way? No. No, instead his flight had been delayed on the runway for several hours and now it was finally arriving in Milwaukee at eight in the morning. Eight in the beautiful-sunrise-morning. Perfect.
Angel sat on the plane with a blanket over him, as though he was asleep, until it really wasn’t an option to sit there any longer, then finally got up and pulled his bag out of the overhead bin. He then smiled and said goodbye to the flight attendants, walked calmly though the passenger bridge, pulled the back of his coat a little over his head, and then broke into a dead sprint as soon as he entered the glass-walled terminal.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…why are there so many windows in this damn airport?
Angel ran until he saw a door. He yanked it open and dashed inside. About fifteen women looked up at him in shock.
Shit.
Without even thinking, he rushed back out the door, and then pulled open the next one. No windows. Urinals. Good. He went into the stall which had an ‘Out Of Order’ sign on its door, hung his bag on the hook, closed the toilet lid and sat with his feet also tucked up on top of the lid. Immediately he began wishing he didn’t have a heightened sense of smell.
This is going to be a long day.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Bartleby kissed the top of Spike’s head and pulled him closer. After only two rounds, the blonde was out cold.
So much for vampire stamina. Bartleby smiled to himself. He’d probably make a point to give Spike a hard time about it when he woke up. Riling Spike up usually benefited all involved.
The angel was a little worried though, because he knew that part of the problem was that Spike had not had enough blood to drink the past week. They tried to buy as much of it as they could from butchers, but it was hard to not buy too much blood from one establishment. Ordering a couple gallons of pig blood a week? It would raise some eyebrows around here since there were no demon-friendly butchers or stores in general. There simply wasn’t a need for them. In the past thirty years, Bartleby had maybe run across six demons not including himself and Spike. And Loki.
Loki. He hadn’t had a run-in with Loki in a while. Which, honestly, was a little disconcerting because a few months ago he kept feeling Loki’s presence. Bartleby really didn’t get it at all since Loki had made himself pretty clear when they parted about thirty years ago that they should not see each other again.
Which made complete sense. They destroyed each other. They had essentially encouraged each other’s pent-up frustration and violent tendencies until they both spun out of control.
Except, that, in the end, it was Loki that finally gained control. Loki was the one who tried to stop Bartleby from destroying the world.
Loki was the one who didn’t have to then spend millennia in Hell.
Hell, where the demons assigned to torture Bartleby had once been angels who joined the wrong side. Angels who had once known him, who had asked him in vain to join their cause.
The joy at the unexpected reunion had been very one-sided.
But Bartleby barely struggled. The physical pain had distracted him from having to remember what he had done. Not the people he killed that day or the possibility that he could have ended all existence, because to be honest, although he could never forgive himself for it, he was so crazed at the time he still couldn’t really remember it. He did remember killing Loki though. Loki, who was an irritating little shit, but who Bartleby loved and had loved since he had first been created.
And so, when by The Powers That Be finally released Bartleby from Hell into a world which had only moved forward by a few months since he left it, he had no idea how to express his regret to Loki.
“You’re back.” Loki said, looking down at the nude angel on the floor in front of him. Figured that The Powers That Be would deliver him right into their old apartment.
“Yeah.” Bartleby kept his eyes focused on the cheap, dirty carpet underneath him. Everything hurt.
“So, how was Hell?”
“It was deserved.” Bartleby lifted himself up a little with his arms. “Loki, I’m so sorry. I can’t even - I’m just so sorry. You - you didn’t have to go there, right?”
Loki stepped back and carefully watched the other angel as he got up.
“Nope. Had to serve for a while as a human in Pylea. Sucked and all but, you know.” Loki made a sort of disinterested shrug and continued to stare at Bartleby as though he was waiting for something. Beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, Bartleby grabbed a towel off the floor, which in typical Loki-fashion was covered with clothing, empty liquor bottles, and gum wrappers. As he went to pull the sheet around his waist, he realized what Loki was waiting for him to notice.
“Wha - I have - do you have -- ?”
Loki rolled his eyes.
“Can’t say ‘dick’ now, B?”
“I just - why? Why do we have this now?” Bartleby couldn’t stop staring at it.
“They told me that maybe now we could get some release that way, since, you know, we’re here until we’ve redeemed ourselves enough to get back.” That made Bartleby look up.
“We can redeem ourselves this time?”
“Yeah, same rules as before in terms of the eating and drinking, they don’t want us to enjoy stuff too much, but you know, we have a shot now.” Loki looked at Bartleby who was looking back at him as if he was going to cry.
“We’ve got assholes too now.”
Now Bartleby was just looking at him extremely confused. If made Loki smile a little. He waited until it finally dawned on Bartleby.
“Oh. I guess they knew about....” Bartleby didn't know what to say. Fuck, he loved Loki, why the fuck had he done that?
“You killed me.” Loki was looking at him not with the anger that Bartleby would have expected of the former Angel of Death, but with a sort of confused sadness that was not like Loki at all.
“I did. I lost it, Loki. I lost the faith.”
“Shut the fuck up about your faith.” Loki snapped. This was more what Bartleby expected. “I don’t want to hear about your faith because I didn’t have the faith for a long time and I never fucking cut off your wings to make you human and then killed you! I never betrayed you! Fuck, I never tried to end existence!” Loki was tightening his fists, but was not moving towards Bartleby at all.
Bartleby looked up at him sharply.
“Listen.” Bartleby growled. “I can never, never forgive myself for what I did to you. But don’t pretend that nine out of ten days you wouldn’t have been right with me trying to get in those church doors and bringing the world down if necessary. Don’t play the martyr.”
“The martyr. That’s rich Bartleby, because you loved playing the martyr for years. The poor wronged angel cast out from Heaven. So lost, so alone, what will he do? O, right, go bat-shit crazy and kill his only friend!” Loki’s blue eyes were blazing as they used to right before he would raise his sword.
Bartleby was about to respond, but then dropped his gaze.
“We can’t do this again, Bartleby. There’s too much shit.”
After that, they had exchanged a few difficult words and Loki had left. They no longer had the ‘stay in Wisconsin’ restriction, but Bartleby was used to Wisconsin. It was almost like home. So he stayed. A couple years later, he was extremely glad he did when he met Spike there.
Bartleby looked down at Spike again. The vampire needed feeding. His fighting hadn’t even really been up to its usual standards. But the last time Bartleby had gone to the butcher they were currently using to get blood, the butcher had asked why he needed it. The question had been asked in a friendly enough way, but Bartleby could read the butcher’s thoughts and despite the smile, the butcher was wondering whether he should give the police a heads-up about suspicious activity. He and Spike did not need that.
Therefore, until one of them found a new butcher to supply pig blood, Spike would need to feed from Bartleby’s wings, which contained Bartleby’s only link to mortality and therefore his only supply of blood; the rest of him pulsed with a raw demonic energy. The angel’s blood was extremely potent, but after Spike fed from him, Bartleby was often left very weak. It always took at least a day for his wings to recover and regain their blood supply, and until that happened, Bartleby was practically on bed rest.
It also caused his wings to shed their feathers, leaving him with large, bare, chicken wing-like appendages. Which were just embarrassing, no matter how ‘bloody hysterical’ Spike proclaimed them.
But, in situations like this, it was necessary in order to keep Spike healthy.
It’s fine, Bartleby thought to himself. Today’s Sunday, so no work tonight or tomorrow night. There’s nothing I have to be in good form for.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
At this point, Angel was a little glad that he hadn’t gotten the Shanshu. He’d forgotten how absolutely disgusting humans could be! He looked at his watch again. He had been crouched up on this toilet for more than eleven hours. It was now past seven.
Angel slowly lowered his legs one by one from his perch and winced as his knees protested the change. After spending a moment stretching a little, he took his bag off of the hook and opened the stall door. There were a few men using the sinks, so Angel quickly walked out before they realized he didn’t appear in the mirror.
Stepping out into the hallway, Angel pulled the papers Loki had given him out of his pocket. Angel decided that the apartment address and number listed on one of the pictures was probably his best shot. If it was where Spike lived, then he would have to come home at some point. Right?
And then what am I going to say? Angel wondered. Despite having just spent more than eleven hours trapped in a bathroom stall, he still had not decided on this. Hey, how have the past, oh, getting near thirty years gone? Have you given up working for redemption? Buffy, Dawn, hell, even Xander keep asking if I’ve heard anything, ever thought of giving them a call? Ever thought of anyone but yourself? Ever think about me?
Why did you leave me?
Angel continued to look at the picture as he gave the address to the taxi driver. It worried him a little that Spike was no longer wearing his leather coat. It meant something had changed, and for some reason Angel was slightly concerned about what that something was.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
“You alright, luv?”
Spike felt a thousand times better now that he had fed, but Bartleby, as usual, looked as though he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Yeah.” His voice was a little weak. “Give me a moment to rest, but yeah, I’ll be fine. You okay?”
“Perfect. Thanks, B.” Spike smiled at him and laid down next the angel on the bed. He looked at the feathers already littering the comforter and chuckled. Bartleby snorted.
“Punk-ass.”
“Aw, don’t be like that. Your chicken wings are bloody adorable. Bet they’d be right tasty with some honey mustard sauce.”
Bartleby smiled and moved closer to Spike until he could rest his head on Spike’s chest.
“I really can’t get into that kink, vampire.”
Spike gave an exaggerated sigh.
“Shame that. Guess I’ll just have to make do.” He wrapped his arm around Bartleby and they were soon both asleep again.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Angel was at the apartment building. He had been there for a while. Now if only he could finally make himself go into the apartment building.
Just as he was about to give it his fiftieth or so try in the past two hours, a young woman came out and held the door open for him. Angel knew it would look strange if he just continued to stand there, so he smiled, held the door, and walked in. The lobby was actually fairly nice. Not fancy by any means, but he had expected the apartment to be like Spike’s old one back in LA. He spotted the elevator to his right and stepped in.
Room 414. So, fourth floor, room fourteen.
Angel had gone though some very nerve-wracking situations in his unlife. He had survived multiple potential apocalypses.
He had never been more nervous than he was now.
Finally he stood in front of Room 414. He stared at it, then covered the peephole with his hand and gave a quick series of knocks.
He felt as though the floor dropped out from under him when he heard movement inside.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Spike grumbled a little as he went to get the door. It was probably that teenage bird from down the hall that liked to ask them to help her with her homework. Nice girl, but constantly asked about how they met and called them ‘so cute’, which just deflated the last of Spike’s Big Bad image.
Guess I’ll ‘ave to tell her B’s sick. Spike thought to himself. He had left the angel on the couch where they’d been watching some movie that Spike felt belonged on Lifetime or the Hallmark Channel. But since Bartleby was still recovering, Spike would put up with it.
Bugger, peephole’s covered up again. Some kids down the hall liked to post signs on all the doors in the hallway, usually that said things like ‘Monsters Inside!’ or ‘Welcome to the Circus!’ Sometimes it blocked the peephole when they didn’t pay attention to where they were taping them. Spike wondered what sign they got this time.
“Right, what’s up ther --” Spike froze once he pulled the door open and Angel took his hand off the peephole.
Angel.
Author: thelastchickpea
Pairing: Spike/Angel, Bartleby/Loki (from Dogma), Spike/Bartleby
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: See AN. Slash (m/m sex), angst, crossover with Dogma
Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, background story, or title. It's not for profit so please don't sue.
Spoilers: Post-NFA (so all AtS to be safe) and all Dogma is spoiled.
Summary: It's after the final battle, and Spike waited for Angel to be ready until he couldn't wait anymore. Spike's got a life of his own now and Angel might want another chance.
AN/Warning: This story is only a crossover in that 3 characters from the film Dogma are incorporated in the BtVS/AtS-verse. Therefore, in this story, “The Powers That Be” will be the all-powerful entity. In this piece of fiction, angels are just specific demons created by TPTB to keep humans in line. They'll be doing some demon-y stuff (and they have, um, tackle, which is explained in the fic).
Feedback: Yes please! Constructive feedback, typo-catches, or just letting me know you're reading is much appreciated :)
AN: This chapter is dedicated to the awesome
zoesmith. There's a piece in this chapter about the angels' story which I pretty much wrote because she was curious :) I'm completely up for suggestions, so if you want to see something or want to know a particular scene from the past, let me know and if it can fit and I think I can write it well, I'll do it. Thanks for reading!
Chapter 3
This was not how Angel had envisioned his arrival to Milwaukee. He had hoped to get into the airport before dawn, get to a hotel, rest up and then get to Spike the next night at his apartment. It would have been fine.
But did it work that way? No. No, instead his flight had been delayed on the runway for several hours and now it was finally arriving in Milwaukee at eight in the morning. Eight in the beautiful-sunrise-morning. Perfect.
Angel sat on the plane with a blanket over him, as though he was asleep, until it really wasn’t an option to sit there any longer, then finally got up and pulled his bag out of the overhead bin. He then smiled and said goodbye to the flight attendants, walked calmly though the passenger bridge, pulled the back of his coat a little over his head, and then broke into a dead sprint as soon as he entered the glass-walled terminal.
Fuck, fuck, fuck…why are there so many windows in this damn airport?
Angel ran until he saw a door. He yanked it open and dashed inside. About fifteen women looked up at him in shock.
Shit.
Without even thinking, he rushed back out the door, and then pulled open the next one. No windows. Urinals. Good. He went into the stall which had an ‘Out Of Order’ sign on its door, hung his bag on the hook, closed the toilet lid and sat with his feet also tucked up on top of the lid. Immediately he began wishing he didn’t have a heightened sense of smell.
This is going to be a long day.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Bartleby kissed the top of Spike’s head and pulled him closer. After only two rounds, the blonde was out cold.
So much for vampire stamina. Bartleby smiled to himself. He’d probably make a point to give Spike a hard time about it when he woke up. Riling Spike up usually benefited all involved.
The angel was a little worried though, because he knew that part of the problem was that Spike had not had enough blood to drink the past week. They tried to buy as much of it as they could from butchers, but it was hard to not buy too much blood from one establishment. Ordering a couple gallons of pig blood a week? It would raise some eyebrows around here since there were no demon-friendly butchers or stores in general. There simply wasn’t a need for them. In the past thirty years, Bartleby had maybe run across six demons not including himself and Spike. And Loki.
Loki. He hadn’t had a run-in with Loki in a while. Which, honestly, was a little disconcerting because a few months ago he kept feeling Loki’s presence. Bartleby really didn’t get it at all since Loki had made himself pretty clear when they parted about thirty years ago that they should not see each other again.
Which made complete sense. They destroyed each other. They had essentially encouraged each other’s pent-up frustration and violent tendencies until they both spun out of control.
Except, that, in the end, it was Loki that finally gained control. Loki was the one who tried to stop Bartleby from destroying the world.
Loki was the one who didn’t have to then spend millennia in Hell.
Hell, where the demons assigned to torture Bartleby had once been angels who joined the wrong side. Angels who had once known him, who had asked him in vain to join their cause.
The joy at the unexpected reunion had been very one-sided.
But Bartleby barely struggled. The physical pain had distracted him from having to remember what he had done. Not the people he killed that day or the possibility that he could have ended all existence, because to be honest, although he could never forgive himself for it, he was so crazed at the time he still couldn’t really remember it. He did remember killing Loki though. Loki, who was an irritating little shit, but who Bartleby loved and had loved since he had first been created.
And so, when by The Powers That Be finally released Bartleby from Hell into a world which had only moved forward by a few months since he left it, he had no idea how to express his regret to Loki.
“You’re back.” Loki said, looking down at the nude angel on the floor in front of him. Figured that The Powers That Be would deliver him right into their old apartment.
“Yeah.” Bartleby kept his eyes focused on the cheap, dirty carpet underneath him. Everything hurt.
“So, how was Hell?”
“It was deserved.” Bartleby lifted himself up a little with his arms. “Loki, I’m so sorry. I can’t even - I’m just so sorry. You - you didn’t have to go there, right?”
Loki stepped back and carefully watched the other angel as he got up.
“Nope. Had to serve for a while as a human in Pylea. Sucked and all but, you know.” Loki made a sort of disinterested shrug and continued to stare at Bartleby as though he was waiting for something. Beginning to feel a little uncomfortable, Bartleby grabbed a towel off the floor, which in typical Loki-fashion was covered with clothing, empty liquor bottles, and gum wrappers. As he went to pull the sheet around his waist, he realized what Loki was waiting for him to notice.
“Wha - I have - do you have -- ?”
Loki rolled his eyes.
“Can’t say ‘dick’ now, B?”
“I just - why? Why do we have this now?” Bartleby couldn’t stop staring at it.
“They told me that maybe now we could get some release that way, since, you know, we’re here until we’ve redeemed ourselves enough to get back.” That made Bartleby look up.
“We can redeem ourselves this time?”
“Yeah, same rules as before in terms of the eating and drinking, they don’t want us to enjoy stuff too much, but you know, we have a shot now.” Loki looked at Bartleby who was looking back at him as if he was going to cry.
“We’ve got assholes too now.”
Now Bartleby was just looking at him extremely confused. If made Loki smile a little. He waited until it finally dawned on Bartleby.
“Oh. I guess they knew about....” Bartleby didn't know what to say. Fuck, he loved Loki, why the fuck had he done that?
“You killed me.” Loki was looking at him not with the anger that Bartleby would have expected of the former Angel of Death, but with a sort of confused sadness that was not like Loki at all.
“I did. I lost it, Loki. I lost the faith.”
“Shut the fuck up about your faith.” Loki snapped. This was more what Bartleby expected. “I don’t want to hear about your faith because I didn’t have the faith for a long time and I never fucking cut off your wings to make you human and then killed you! I never betrayed you! Fuck, I never tried to end existence!” Loki was tightening his fists, but was not moving towards Bartleby at all.
Bartleby looked up at him sharply.
“Listen.” Bartleby growled. “I can never, never forgive myself for what I did to you. But don’t pretend that nine out of ten days you wouldn’t have been right with me trying to get in those church doors and bringing the world down if necessary. Don’t play the martyr.”
“The martyr. That’s rich Bartleby, because you loved playing the martyr for years. The poor wronged angel cast out from Heaven. So lost, so alone, what will he do? O, right, go bat-shit crazy and kill his only friend!” Loki’s blue eyes were blazing as they used to right before he would raise his sword.
Bartleby was about to respond, but then dropped his gaze.
“We can’t do this again, Bartleby. There’s too much shit.”
After that, they had exchanged a few difficult words and Loki had left. They no longer had the ‘stay in Wisconsin’ restriction, but Bartleby was used to Wisconsin. It was almost like home. So he stayed. A couple years later, he was extremely glad he did when he met Spike there.
Bartleby looked down at Spike again. The vampire needed feeding. His fighting hadn’t even really been up to its usual standards. But the last time Bartleby had gone to the butcher they were currently using to get blood, the butcher had asked why he needed it. The question had been asked in a friendly enough way, but Bartleby could read the butcher’s thoughts and despite the smile, the butcher was wondering whether he should give the police a heads-up about suspicious activity. He and Spike did not need that.
Therefore, until one of them found a new butcher to supply pig blood, Spike would need to feed from Bartleby’s wings, which contained Bartleby’s only link to mortality and therefore his only supply of blood; the rest of him pulsed with a raw demonic energy. The angel’s blood was extremely potent, but after Spike fed from him, Bartleby was often left very weak. It always took at least a day for his wings to recover and regain their blood supply, and until that happened, Bartleby was practically on bed rest.
It also caused his wings to shed their feathers, leaving him with large, bare, chicken wing-like appendages. Which were just embarrassing, no matter how ‘bloody hysterical’ Spike proclaimed them.
But, in situations like this, it was necessary in order to keep Spike healthy.
It’s fine, Bartleby thought to himself. Today’s Sunday, so no work tonight or tomorrow night. There’s nothing I have to be in good form for.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
At this point, Angel was a little glad that he hadn’t gotten the Shanshu. He’d forgotten how absolutely disgusting humans could be! He looked at his watch again. He had been crouched up on this toilet for more than eleven hours. It was now past seven.
Angel slowly lowered his legs one by one from his perch and winced as his knees protested the change. After spending a moment stretching a little, he took his bag off of the hook and opened the stall door. There were a few men using the sinks, so Angel quickly walked out before they realized he didn’t appear in the mirror.
Stepping out into the hallway, Angel pulled the papers Loki had given him out of his pocket. Angel decided that the apartment address and number listed on one of the pictures was probably his best shot. If it was where Spike lived, then he would have to come home at some point. Right?
And then what am I going to say? Angel wondered. Despite having just spent more than eleven hours trapped in a bathroom stall, he still had not decided on this. Hey, how have the past, oh, getting near thirty years gone? Have you given up working for redemption? Buffy, Dawn, hell, even Xander keep asking if I’ve heard anything, ever thought of giving them a call? Ever thought of anyone but yourself? Ever think about me?
Why did you leave me?
Angel continued to look at the picture as he gave the address to the taxi driver. It worried him a little that Spike was no longer wearing his leather coat. It meant something had changed, and for some reason Angel was slightly concerned about what that something was.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
“You alright, luv?”
Spike felt a thousand times better now that he had fed, but Bartleby, as usual, looked as though he could barely keep his eyes open.
“Yeah.” His voice was a little weak. “Give me a moment to rest, but yeah, I’ll be fine. You okay?”
“Perfect. Thanks, B.” Spike smiled at him and laid down next the angel on the bed. He looked at the feathers already littering the comforter and chuckled. Bartleby snorted.
“Punk-ass.”
“Aw, don’t be like that. Your chicken wings are bloody adorable. Bet they’d be right tasty with some honey mustard sauce.”
Bartleby smiled and moved closer to Spike until he could rest his head on Spike’s chest.
“I really can’t get into that kink, vampire.”
Spike gave an exaggerated sigh.
“Shame that. Guess I’ll just have to make do.” He wrapped his arm around Bartleby and they were soon both asleep again.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Angel was at the apartment building. He had been there for a while. Now if only he could finally make himself go into the apartment building.
Just as he was about to give it his fiftieth or so try in the past two hours, a young woman came out and held the door open for him. Angel knew it would look strange if he just continued to stand there, so he smiled, held the door, and walked in. The lobby was actually fairly nice. Not fancy by any means, but he had expected the apartment to be like Spike’s old one back in LA. He spotted the elevator to his right and stepped in.
Room 414. So, fourth floor, room fourteen.
Angel had gone though some very nerve-wracking situations in his unlife. He had survived multiple potential apocalypses.
He had never been more nervous than he was now.
Finally he stood in front of Room 414. He stared at it, then covered the peephole with his hand and gave a quick series of knocks.
He felt as though the floor dropped out from under him when he heard movement inside.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Spike grumbled a little as he went to get the door. It was probably that teenage bird from down the hall that liked to ask them to help her with her homework. Nice girl, but constantly asked about how they met and called them ‘so cute’, which just deflated the last of Spike’s Big Bad image.
Guess I’ll ‘ave to tell her B’s sick. Spike thought to himself. He had left the angel on the couch where they’d been watching some movie that Spike felt belonged on Lifetime or the Hallmark Channel. But since Bartleby was still recovering, Spike would put up with it.
Bugger, peephole’s covered up again. Some kids down the hall liked to post signs on all the doors in the hallway, usually that said things like ‘Monsters Inside!’ or ‘Welcome to the Circus!’ Sometimes it blocked the peephole when they didn’t pay attention to where they were taping them. Spike wondered what sign they got this time.
“Right, what’s up ther --” Spike froze once he pulled the door open and Angel took his hand off the peephole.
Angel.