You Won't Be Mine (Chapter Seven)
Title: You Won't Be Mine (Chapter 7)
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: Thank you again to
purpledodah for the great banner!
Also, at one point in this chapter, I was trying for how Metatron was down by the lake with Bethany in Dogma (if you've seen the movie, you know what I mean, but if not, it just means, he actually does have a soft spot :) )
Chapter Seven
Eleven Weeks Later
“Spike?” Angel asked hopefully into the phone.
“Oh, Angel. No, it’s Bartleby. Let me get him for you.”
Angel listened while the muffled voice of Bartleby he called for Spike to come in from his smoke on the fire escape.
“Peaches!” Spike exclaimed, “Haven’t heard from you in a bit.”
Angel was back in San Francisco, was back to his old life. Well, his old life but better. He didn’t bring home any more oh-so-grateful humans, partially due to the fact that he now knew Bartleby and by extension Spike could always see this, but mainly because if he was sleeping around, he would miss Spike’s phone calls. Which were important, for reasons he was starting to understand.
Or, at least, Lorne was starting to help him understand. When Lorne had seen him off at the Milwaukee airport, he had looked confused and said something about how it couldn’t be over. He’d given Angel a small, circular silver device that he said Angel could use to call him even when he was back home in another dimension. Angel liked having a real support group again; he had missed that.
“Yeah, it’s been busy,” Angel was getting better at these phone calls. At first, they had been horribly painful, but now, now it was easy.
“With what? Or should I say, with who?”
“It’s whom.”
“Whatever, with whom,” Spike stressed. Angel smiled; he could just picture Spike’s face right now.
“You’re rolling your eyes.”
“I bloody well am not!” the indignant voice shouted through.
“Really?”
“If I was, it was only because your ridiculous hard-on for grammar. It’s whom,” Spike imitated in a low voice.
“I’m just trying to help your poetry,” Angel gave an exaggerated sigh and Spike laughed.
“Trust me, the problem with my poetry’s not the grammar.”
“I still like them.” Angel had to get that in there before Spike drifted back to his unfortunate William days.
“ ‘Course you would. Beat you to a pulp otherwise.” Spike then paused. “Oi! Didn’t answer my question! You can’t just try to distract me like some sort of kiddie. Is there a whom now?”
“No, no whom.” Angel said, trying not to feel too lonely.
“You could be Angel the eunuch again!” The comment was said in a light-hearted manner, as though Spike was trying to cheer Angel up.
“I’m not a eunuch. I still am equipped.” Angel was a little putout.
“And able, pet?” In his mind’s eye, Angel could just see the eyebrow raise and the tongue curl…
Wait, pet?
Spike had not called him pet or luv during any of these phone conversations. For a while it was just mate, then pounce, then poof, and then finally Peaches (and Angel never thought he would be happy to hear that nickname). But now pet? Was Spike…
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Cor, not a smooth one, are you? Yes you bloody lummox. Seeing as it’s the most action you’re going to get, felt a little pity.”
“Is he okay with that?”
“First off, you know ‘is name. Second, B’s not a clingy little chit. If he was, then we probably wouldn’t ‘ave lasted a week.”
“Wait, he’s fine if you’re seeing other people?” Angel jumped in.
“Wot? No! Where did you get that? I don’t ‘ave any sort of history of that. I flirt with other people, don’t snog ‘em and take ‘em home. You really think I’d do that?”
“No, no, sor-” Angel stopped the apology. Why did he keep doing this around Spike? “Your wording confused me.”
“My wording.” He could hear Spike give a little snort in the background. “Bloody grammar fetish.”
Angel waited for a moment before starting again, this time carefully considering what he would say.
“Are we okay?”
“ ‘Course. Know you well enough to expect your complete lack of charm.”
“I can be very charming.”
“Pet,” There it was again! “You ‘ave attributes. Some very nice attributes, as I remember.” This was such blatant flirting! Was he right next to Spike during this? “And your occasional bouts of chivalry can be confused for charm, as long as the poor bird doesn’t have to have an actual conversation with you. ‘Course, Angelus was a charming bloke, soul didn’t need to tuck that away.”
“Angelus was not a good kind of charming, Spike,” Angel didn’t think the other vampire understood what he was saying, “Angelus charmed people into invitations to parties that he would turn into blood baths. Charmed people into believing he was good.”
“That wasn’t his charm,” Spike sounded distracted, as though he was thinking back on something. “ ‘e could just focus everything, make someone feel like they were the most fascinating thing ‘e’d ever seen. Like he didn’t want anything else.”
Angel swallowed. He got the distinct feeling that they were not just talking about a general case anymore. Before he could think up what to say to delve into the matter, Spike’s more normal, focused voice came though.
“Bollucks! Need to head out to work. I’ll call ‘round Friday?”
“Oh, sure,” Angel said, trying not to be disappointed that he didn’t have a chance to push the matter further.
“Right. Friday then.”
And with that, Spike hung up and Angel was left wondering exactly what he should have caught in that statement.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Spike hung up the phone and headed back out to the fire escape to smoke some more before work, only to find that Bartleby was already out there.
Talking with Angel was nice. They had never really had just friendly conversations before. The closest they came to being nice to each other in LA was when they were in the middle of some sort of crisis and their familiarity allowed a certain kind of comfort.
“Wot are you watching?” Spike asked, recognizing the distant looking in Bartleby’s eyes.
“It’s,” Bartleby shook his head as though to clear the images, “it’s nothing. I’m not sure.”
“Come again?” Spike lit up a cigarette and began smoking.
“Something’s … wrong.”
“Is it Loki?” Cor, Spike was just waiting for that areshole to come back. He had a few choice words. Not to mention that a fight with the actual Angel of Death was just too good to pass up.
Bartleby shook his head to Spike’s question.
“No, I’m being watched,” he looked up at the sky as though expecting someone to come flying down, “Loki can’t do with a gift though. It must be Metatron.”
“Why’s ‘e watching you now?” Spike stubbed out his cigarette on the railing and then leaned against the wall next to Bartleby.
“I don’t know. But it’s been happening a lot this week.”
“Mmm…” Spike said as he turned to Bartleby and stroked an arm over his chest. “I think that’s because ‘e’s just quite the voyeur.”
The angel burst out laughing, and Spike, mildly affronted, shot him a questioning look.
“Sorry, just,” Bartleby smiled, “he just stopped, very abruptly.”
“So we’ve found the way to keep him away?” Back on his game Spike tried to get a little more action going.
“Smart.”
“Oh, I’m bloody brilliant, Wings,” Spike started to move his hands under Bartleby’s shirt.
“But we shouldn't do that out here,” he paused, as if trying to remember something, “and we have work.”
“Alright,” Spike found a way to play this, “but you are going be in charge of making sure that he doesn’t watch us later.”
“Fair deal.” Bartleby gave him a slow kiss and then with a little tug on Spike’s lips, pulled away and then climbed back through the window, leaving Spike to have another cigarette.
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As soon as Bartleby was back in the apartment, he could feel Metatron watching him.
“Would you just come out!” he shouted to the rest of the house, which did nothing but cause Spike to snicker on the fire escape and mutter something about how they were already very out.
Bartleby saw that Spike left the phone out, again, and went over to pick it up and put it back in the cradle.
It honestly did make him glad that Spike was talking with Angel; he felt Spike should call all the old Sunnydale gang as well. The vampire had to stop this self-imposed exile from his old life and friends. Bartleby knew all about exile, and it didn’t lead to anything good.
And he was okay that Spike still loved Angel, because that didn’t mean he was in love with him. Bartleby had watched enough humans and felt enough emotions to know the difference between the two. To him, it was one of the most fascinating things about people: they changed. Angels didn’t change. Well, maybe he and Loki had, but their change was degenerative if anything and only due to the unnatural effects of being banished from their home dimension. No, humans grew and changed and went from bad people to good people and quiet people to loud people and foolish people to mature people. And Bartleby had finally come to the conclusion over the years that the one you were meant to be with was the one who would change with you. The one whose every change somehow complements how you are changing, so that you always fit together.
Otherwise, the people are still in love, but have changed so much that they have outgrown each other.
So, in short, he was fine with Spike still loving Angel. Hell, he still loved Loki.
Well, most of the time.
When he didn’t absolutely hate him.
Damn it, he’s watching again.
“Just come, Metatron, I’m tired of this!”
Much to his surprise, the telltale smoke began to build in front of him and soon the pale angel was standing there, looking a little peeved.
“You’re not really one for patience, are you?” Metatron said distractedly as he dusted off his coat.
“I was patient for a week, Voice. I don’t like being watched for no apparent reason.”
“I was just waiting for a good time.” Spike apparently had heard Metatron’s words and climbed in with an eyebrow raised.
“Far as I can tell, mate, you stopped waiting whenever a good time started.” He curled his tongue at the visitor who in turn rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be vulgar. I have no interest in watching your … coupling. I had wanted to come to talk to Bartleby.”
“I have to go to work.” Bartleby responded automatically.
“Yes, yes, you lead a very busy life. Never any time for a word with an old friend.” Metatron looked around, appearing to be taking in the simple décor of the kitchen.
“We’re not friends.”
“We were once.” Surprisingly, Metatron did look a little ... wistful, Bartleby thought to himself.
“Yes, maybe, and then you didn’t visit for thousands of years. You can see how that would change.”
“I taught you how to be a Watcher, you remember,” Metatron continued, unfazed by Bartleby’s remark, “And if I could have a son, I imagine he’d be like you. Smart, stubborn, except he’d be a bit more handsome…”
“Yes, if only we could all have your pasty coloring,” Bartleby retorted.
“It actually seems like quite the attraction for you,” Metatron gave a little nod towards Spike, whose head snapped up with a little indignant ‘Oi!’
“Get a bit of a burn from the sun, wot’s your excuse?”
“A bit too busy saving humanity to tan,” Metatron turned back to Bartleby, “I need to talk with you, alone for a moment.”
“You can say whatever you need to say in front of Spike.” Bartleby looked at him defiantly, “And as I said, I have to go to work.”
Metatron gave an exaggerated sigh and then snapped his fingers and Spike suddenly completely froze.
“What’d you just do?” Bartleby walked over to Spike and touched his suddenly rock-hard face.
“Just put him on ice for a bit. Oh, and called down some of our brethren to cover for you tonight, so you can’t use that excuse anymore.”
“Alright, talk.” Bartleby took a seat at the kitchen table and the other angel sat down across from him.
“It’s good news actually,” he started, “your case has been under reconsideration.”
“Reconsideration.” Bartleby didn’t understand what he was getting at.
“It’s why I came by a few weeks ago. They were still in discussions then, so I didn’t want to give the news before it was certain, but -”
“Wait,” Bartleby held up a hand, “when you came by with Loki?”
“Yes, again, I apologize for his actions. Reminds me of an yappy little dog sometimes,” Bartleby decided to let this drop for a moment, but he had a sinking suspicion of what was happening. Metatron continued.
“Now they -”
“They being The Powers That Be?”
“Yes, who else would I deliver a message from? Yes, they have decided that you are now welcome back into Heaven.” Metatron declared this with a hopeful smile, which started to slowly drop the longer Bartleby sat motionless.
“I’m welcome back?” He finally asked, his expression unreadable.
“They see that you’ve been working hard for redemption and to be completely open with you here, there was a bit of discussion that since no Angel of Death was assigned after Loki left, perhaps you were onto a good idea there -”
“Why are they deciding this now?” Bartleby was trying to remain as calm as possible, “Why didn’t they decide this back when it first happened?”
“I suppose they were a little upset. You know that drunken Loki is not a particularly endearing creature -”
“But they didn’t care enough to call me back for millennia, even though I imagine they knew I was right. They didn’t think that maybe it was the exile they imposed that made me lose it when they sent me to Hell.” Bartleby looked straight at him, “But for the sake of argument, lets say that I was wrong. In which case, what happened at the church -- I’ve only been working for redemption for that a little over thirty years. You can’t really tell me that’s enough time for them. Either way, I don’t understand why they're welcoming me back now.”
“Are you going to let me finish my sentence this time?” Metatron responded evenly.
“If you tell the truth.”
“They have simply been very impressed during your stay on earth this ti-”
“Bullshit.”
“Stop that!” Metatron closed his eyes for a moment while Bartleby went off on another rant.
“Spike has done a lot more than I have to help people, but he hasn’t gotten any redemption. If he were human though, they’d practically be raising him up. Me? I’m no better than him, worse probably because I was down here so long with Loki doing nothing for good. Made our money through blackmail. Don’t look pretend to look shocked Voice; I know you knew about this. I said who’s got secrets, Loki makes the threats, it wasn’t exactly a good-for-humanity sort of thing. But Spike’s died for the ones he loves, he got a soul, and for some reason he’s not good enough for them now and suddenly I am just because -” he paused for a moment, “they need me, don’t they?”
“They want you back, Bartleby,” Metatron looked compassionate. That was strange.
“No, no, they need me back. Why can’t they use another angel for whatever it is? There are a whole bunch of Watchers.”
“You know that it takes a lot of energy to create an angel, it’s not some sort of inexhaustible resource. And the Hell demons are reproducing at an unfortunate rate.”
“No,” Bartleby pushed back his chair and stood up, “Unfreeze Spike. I’m not going back.”
“Don’t make this decision so quickly,” Metatron stood up as well and walked over to the other angel, “You miss it, you know you do. You’d be home. That’s what you’ve wanted.”
“I don’t want it like this.”
“You and Loki, both so moody and dramatic.”
“You told Loki about this.” Bartleby exclaimed, suddenly realizing this. “Is he going back?”
“Well, no,” Metatron rubbed his head, “Loki hasn’t exactly been proving himself as a warrior in the fight for good, and the hope was that hearing about your case being discussed would stick a little fire under him and, well, then when he found out that you were with” he made a hand gesture over towards the still-frozen Spike, “fire got a little hotter.”
“We’re just pawns now, aren’t we?” Bartleby was speaking with a deadly calm, “I don’t want to go back to doing their bidding without question.”
“Bartleby…”
“No, and you know what? I miss it, yeah, I’ll always miss it, but it’s not home anymore. And I don’t want to go back to a place that won’t accept Spike. He’s a much better being than I am, but because of a cruel twist of fate, they’re all but indifferent.”
“Please think about this. If for no other reason than because you know as well as I do that Hell watches Earth just as closely as Heaven, and there will be certain demons who will be all too happy to take the ungrateful, but very much needed, angel hostage to try to strike a bargain with The Powers That Be. It’s putting you and Spike in great danger.”
“You don’t get to talk about Spike after you just suggested I leave him. And I’m not going to be threatened into going back. My decision is final.” Bartleby’s unblinking eyes glared at Metatron.
“Very well.” Metatron nodded. “I feared you would choose this. Feared, and in an odd way, proud.” Bartleby looked at him, a little confused. “I meant what I said, if I had a son, he’d be like you.” Metatron snapped his fingers and Spike unfroze and looked around at the scene in front of him.
“Wot just happened, B?” he stood next to Bartleby and looked up at Metatron.
“Bartleby here just decided to stay here instead of going back to Heaven.” Spike raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m sure he’ll explain later. As it is now, however, I’ve already prepared a bit for this case. Call your friend Angel up here, and tell him to get Lorne over here too. Trust me, you’re about to enter quite the fight. They’re already coming for you.”
With that, Metatron disappeared in another cloud of smoke.
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: Thank you again to
purpledodah for the great banner!
Also, at one point in this chapter, I was trying for how Metatron was down by the lake with Bethany in Dogma (if you've seen the movie, you know what I mean, but if not, it just means, he actually does have a soft spot :) )
Chapter Seven
Eleven Weeks Later
“Spike?” Angel asked hopefully into the phone.
“Oh, Angel. No, it’s Bartleby. Let me get him for you.”
Angel listened while the muffled voice of Bartleby he called for Spike to come in from his smoke on the fire escape.
“Peaches!” Spike exclaimed, “Haven’t heard from you in a bit.”
Angel was back in San Francisco, was back to his old life. Well, his old life but better. He didn’t bring home any more oh-so-grateful humans, partially due to the fact that he now knew Bartleby and by extension Spike could always see this, but mainly because if he was sleeping around, he would miss Spike’s phone calls. Which were important, for reasons he was starting to understand.
Or, at least, Lorne was starting to help him understand. When Lorne had seen him off at the Milwaukee airport, he had looked confused and said something about how it couldn’t be over. He’d given Angel a small, circular silver device that he said Angel could use to call him even when he was back home in another dimension. Angel liked having a real support group again; he had missed that.
“Yeah, it’s been busy,” Angel was getting better at these phone calls. At first, they had been horribly painful, but now, now it was easy.
“With what? Or should I say, with who?”
“It’s whom.”
“Whatever, with whom,” Spike stressed. Angel smiled; he could just picture Spike’s face right now.
“You’re rolling your eyes.”
“I bloody well am not!” the indignant voice shouted through.
“Really?”
“If I was, it was only because your ridiculous hard-on for grammar. It’s whom,” Spike imitated in a low voice.
“I’m just trying to help your poetry,” Angel gave an exaggerated sigh and Spike laughed.
“Trust me, the problem with my poetry’s not the grammar.”
“I still like them.” Angel had to get that in there before Spike drifted back to his unfortunate William days.
“ ‘Course you would. Beat you to a pulp otherwise.” Spike then paused. “Oi! Didn’t answer my question! You can’t just try to distract me like some sort of kiddie. Is there a whom now?”
“No, no whom.” Angel said, trying not to feel too lonely.
“You could be Angel the eunuch again!” The comment was said in a light-hearted manner, as though Spike was trying to cheer Angel up.
“I’m not a eunuch. I still am equipped.” Angel was a little putout.
“And able, pet?” In his mind’s eye, Angel could just see the eyebrow raise and the tongue curl…
Wait, pet?
Spike had not called him pet or luv during any of these phone conversations. For a while it was just mate, then pounce, then poof, and then finally Peaches (and Angel never thought he would be happy to hear that nickname). But now pet? Was Spike…
“Are you flirting with me?”
“Cor, not a smooth one, are you? Yes you bloody lummox. Seeing as it’s the most action you’re going to get, felt a little pity.”
“Is he okay with that?”
“First off, you know ‘is name. Second, B’s not a clingy little chit. If he was, then we probably wouldn’t ‘ave lasted a week.”
“Wait, he’s fine if you’re seeing other people?” Angel jumped in.
“Wot? No! Where did you get that? I don’t ‘ave any sort of history of that. I flirt with other people, don’t snog ‘em and take ‘em home. You really think I’d do that?”
“No, no, sor-” Angel stopped the apology. Why did he keep doing this around Spike? “Your wording confused me.”
“My wording.” He could hear Spike give a little snort in the background. “Bloody grammar fetish.”
Angel waited for a moment before starting again, this time carefully considering what he would say.
“Are we okay?”
“ ‘Course. Know you well enough to expect your complete lack of charm.”
“I can be very charming.”
“Pet,” There it was again! “You ‘ave attributes. Some very nice attributes, as I remember.” This was such blatant flirting! Was he right next to Spike during this? “And your occasional bouts of chivalry can be confused for charm, as long as the poor bird doesn’t have to have an actual conversation with you. ‘Course, Angelus was a charming bloke, soul didn’t need to tuck that away.”
“Angelus was not a good kind of charming, Spike,” Angel didn’t think the other vampire understood what he was saying, “Angelus charmed people into invitations to parties that he would turn into blood baths. Charmed people into believing he was good.”
“That wasn’t his charm,” Spike sounded distracted, as though he was thinking back on something. “ ‘e could just focus everything, make someone feel like they were the most fascinating thing ‘e’d ever seen. Like he didn’t want anything else.”
Angel swallowed. He got the distinct feeling that they were not just talking about a general case anymore. Before he could think up what to say to delve into the matter, Spike’s more normal, focused voice came though.
“Bollucks! Need to head out to work. I’ll call ‘round Friday?”
“Oh, sure,” Angel said, trying not to be disappointed that he didn’t have a chance to push the matter further.
“Right. Friday then.”
And with that, Spike hung up and Angel was left wondering exactly what he should have caught in that statement.
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Spike hung up the phone and headed back out to the fire escape to smoke some more before work, only to find that Bartleby was already out there.
Talking with Angel was nice. They had never really had just friendly conversations before. The closest they came to being nice to each other in LA was when they were in the middle of some sort of crisis and their familiarity allowed a certain kind of comfort.
“Wot are you watching?” Spike asked, recognizing the distant looking in Bartleby’s eyes.
“It’s,” Bartleby shook his head as though to clear the images, “it’s nothing. I’m not sure.”
“Come again?” Spike lit up a cigarette and began smoking.
“Something’s … wrong.”
“Is it Loki?” Cor, Spike was just waiting for that areshole to come back. He had a few choice words. Not to mention that a fight with the actual Angel of Death was just too good to pass up.
Bartleby shook his head to Spike’s question.
“No, I’m being watched,” he looked up at the sky as though expecting someone to come flying down, “Loki can’t do with a gift though. It must be Metatron.”
“Why’s ‘e watching you now?” Spike stubbed out his cigarette on the railing and then leaned against the wall next to Bartleby.
“I don’t know. But it’s been happening a lot this week.”
“Mmm…” Spike said as he turned to Bartleby and stroked an arm over his chest. “I think that’s because ‘e’s just quite the voyeur.”
The angel burst out laughing, and Spike, mildly affronted, shot him a questioning look.
“Sorry, just,” Bartleby smiled, “he just stopped, very abruptly.”
“So we’ve found the way to keep him away?” Back on his game Spike tried to get a little more action going.
“Smart.”
“Oh, I’m bloody brilliant, Wings,” Spike started to move his hands under Bartleby’s shirt.
“But we shouldn't do that out here,” he paused, as if trying to remember something, “and we have work.”
“Alright,” Spike found a way to play this, “but you are going be in charge of making sure that he doesn’t watch us later.”
“Fair deal.” Bartleby gave him a slow kiss and then with a little tug on Spike’s lips, pulled away and then climbed back through the window, leaving Spike to have another cigarette.
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As soon as Bartleby was back in the apartment, he could feel Metatron watching him.
“Would you just come out!” he shouted to the rest of the house, which did nothing but cause Spike to snicker on the fire escape and mutter something about how they were already very out.
Bartleby saw that Spike left the phone out, again, and went over to pick it up and put it back in the cradle.
It honestly did make him glad that Spike was talking with Angel; he felt Spike should call all the old Sunnydale gang as well. The vampire had to stop this self-imposed exile from his old life and friends. Bartleby knew all about exile, and it didn’t lead to anything good.
And he was okay that Spike still loved Angel, because that didn’t mean he was in love with him. Bartleby had watched enough humans and felt enough emotions to know the difference between the two. To him, it was one of the most fascinating things about people: they changed. Angels didn’t change. Well, maybe he and Loki had, but their change was degenerative if anything and only due to the unnatural effects of being banished from their home dimension. No, humans grew and changed and went from bad people to good people and quiet people to loud people and foolish people to mature people. And Bartleby had finally come to the conclusion over the years that the one you were meant to be with was the one who would change with you. The one whose every change somehow complements how you are changing, so that you always fit together.
Otherwise, the people are still in love, but have changed so much that they have outgrown each other.
So, in short, he was fine with Spike still loving Angel. Hell, he still loved Loki.
Well, most of the time.
When he didn’t absolutely hate him.
Damn it, he’s watching again.
“Just come, Metatron, I’m tired of this!”
Much to his surprise, the telltale smoke began to build in front of him and soon the pale angel was standing there, looking a little peeved.
“You’re not really one for patience, are you?” Metatron said distractedly as he dusted off his coat.
“I was patient for a week, Voice. I don’t like being watched for no apparent reason.”
“I was just waiting for a good time.” Spike apparently had heard Metatron’s words and climbed in with an eyebrow raised.
“Far as I can tell, mate, you stopped waiting whenever a good time started.” He curled his tongue at the visitor who in turn rolled his eyes.
“Don’t be vulgar. I have no interest in watching your … coupling. I had wanted to come to talk to Bartleby.”
“I have to go to work.” Bartleby responded automatically.
“Yes, yes, you lead a very busy life. Never any time for a word with an old friend.” Metatron looked around, appearing to be taking in the simple décor of the kitchen.
“We’re not friends.”
“We were once.” Surprisingly, Metatron did look a little ... wistful, Bartleby thought to himself.
“Yes, maybe, and then you didn’t visit for thousands of years. You can see how that would change.”
“I taught you how to be a Watcher, you remember,” Metatron continued, unfazed by Bartleby’s remark, “And if I could have a son, I imagine he’d be like you. Smart, stubborn, except he’d be a bit more handsome…”
“Yes, if only we could all have your pasty coloring,” Bartleby retorted.
“It actually seems like quite the attraction for you,” Metatron gave a little nod towards Spike, whose head snapped up with a little indignant ‘Oi!’
“Get a bit of a burn from the sun, wot’s your excuse?”
“A bit too busy saving humanity to tan,” Metatron turned back to Bartleby, “I need to talk with you, alone for a moment.”
“You can say whatever you need to say in front of Spike.” Bartleby looked at him defiantly, “And as I said, I have to go to work.”
Metatron gave an exaggerated sigh and then snapped his fingers and Spike suddenly completely froze.
“What’d you just do?” Bartleby walked over to Spike and touched his suddenly rock-hard face.
“Just put him on ice for a bit. Oh, and called down some of our brethren to cover for you tonight, so you can’t use that excuse anymore.”
“Alright, talk.” Bartleby took a seat at the kitchen table and the other angel sat down across from him.
“It’s good news actually,” he started, “your case has been under reconsideration.”
“Reconsideration.” Bartleby didn’t understand what he was getting at.
“It’s why I came by a few weeks ago. They were still in discussions then, so I didn’t want to give the news before it was certain, but -”
“Wait,” Bartleby held up a hand, “when you came by with Loki?”
“Yes, again, I apologize for his actions. Reminds me of an yappy little dog sometimes,” Bartleby decided to let this drop for a moment, but he had a sinking suspicion of what was happening. Metatron continued.
“Now they -”
“They being The Powers That Be?”
“Yes, who else would I deliver a message from? Yes, they have decided that you are now welcome back into Heaven.” Metatron declared this with a hopeful smile, which started to slowly drop the longer Bartleby sat motionless.
“I’m welcome back?” He finally asked, his expression unreadable.
“They see that you’ve been working hard for redemption and to be completely open with you here, there was a bit of discussion that since no Angel of Death was assigned after Loki left, perhaps you were onto a good idea there -”
“Why are they deciding this now?” Bartleby was trying to remain as calm as possible, “Why didn’t they decide this back when it first happened?”
“I suppose they were a little upset. You know that drunken Loki is not a particularly endearing creature -”
“But they didn’t care enough to call me back for millennia, even though I imagine they knew I was right. They didn’t think that maybe it was the exile they imposed that made me lose it when they sent me to Hell.” Bartleby looked straight at him, “But for the sake of argument, lets say that I was wrong. In which case, what happened at the church -- I’ve only been working for redemption for that a little over thirty years. You can’t really tell me that’s enough time for them. Either way, I don’t understand why they're welcoming me back now.”
“Are you going to let me finish my sentence this time?” Metatron responded evenly.
“If you tell the truth.”
“They have simply been very impressed during your stay on earth this ti-”
“Bullshit.”
“Stop that!” Metatron closed his eyes for a moment while Bartleby went off on another rant.
“Spike has done a lot more than I have to help people, but he hasn’t gotten any redemption. If he were human though, they’d practically be raising him up. Me? I’m no better than him, worse probably because I was down here so long with Loki doing nothing for good. Made our money through blackmail. Don’t look pretend to look shocked Voice; I know you knew about this. I said who’s got secrets, Loki makes the threats, it wasn’t exactly a good-for-humanity sort of thing. But Spike’s died for the ones he loves, he got a soul, and for some reason he’s not good enough for them now and suddenly I am just because -” he paused for a moment, “they need me, don’t they?”
“They want you back, Bartleby,” Metatron looked compassionate. That was strange.
“No, no, they need me back. Why can’t they use another angel for whatever it is? There are a whole bunch of Watchers.”
“You know that it takes a lot of energy to create an angel, it’s not some sort of inexhaustible resource. And the Hell demons are reproducing at an unfortunate rate.”
“No,” Bartleby pushed back his chair and stood up, “Unfreeze Spike. I’m not going back.”
“Don’t make this decision so quickly,” Metatron stood up as well and walked over to the other angel, “You miss it, you know you do. You’d be home. That’s what you’ve wanted.”
“I don’t want it like this.”
“You and Loki, both so moody and dramatic.”
“You told Loki about this.” Bartleby exclaimed, suddenly realizing this. “Is he going back?”
“Well, no,” Metatron rubbed his head, “Loki hasn’t exactly been proving himself as a warrior in the fight for good, and the hope was that hearing about your case being discussed would stick a little fire under him and, well, then when he found out that you were with” he made a hand gesture over towards the still-frozen Spike, “fire got a little hotter.”
“We’re just pawns now, aren’t we?” Bartleby was speaking with a deadly calm, “I don’t want to go back to doing their bidding without question.”
“Bartleby…”
“No, and you know what? I miss it, yeah, I’ll always miss it, but it’s not home anymore. And I don’t want to go back to a place that won’t accept Spike. He’s a much better being than I am, but because of a cruel twist of fate, they’re all but indifferent.”
“Please think about this. If for no other reason than because you know as well as I do that Hell watches Earth just as closely as Heaven, and there will be certain demons who will be all too happy to take the ungrateful, but very much needed, angel hostage to try to strike a bargain with The Powers That Be. It’s putting you and Spike in great danger.”
“You don’t get to talk about Spike after you just suggested I leave him. And I’m not going to be threatened into going back. My decision is final.” Bartleby’s unblinking eyes glared at Metatron.
“Very well.” Metatron nodded. “I feared you would choose this. Feared, and in an odd way, proud.” Bartleby looked at him, a little confused. “I meant what I said, if I had a son, he’d be like you.” Metatron snapped his fingers and Spike unfroze and looked around at the scene in front of him.
“Wot just happened, B?” he stood next to Bartleby and looked up at Metatron.
“Bartleby here just decided to stay here instead of going back to Heaven.” Spike raised a questioning eyebrow. “I’m sure he’ll explain later. As it is now, however, I’ve already prepared a bit for this case. Call your friend Angel up here, and tell him to get Lorne over here too. Trust me, you’re about to enter quite the fight. They’re already coming for you.”
With that, Metatron disappeared in another cloud of smoke.