Story: "Restless" Chapter 3 - Spike/Angel - NC-17
Title: Restless Chapter 3
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 series)
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Summary: Spike keeps him fighting, but Angel is alone in his misery.
I always knew I'd end up alone. I had that fear come to reality a few times in my life already. The first time when I was trying to come to grips with having a soul, and pushed everyone else away from me. The second time when I was left at the bottom of the ocean for months. It was the coldest hell I could imagine, and I had a lot of time to wonder if I would ever be found again. But I have good friends. That's why I drove them all away again. That's why I drove him away.
For the longest time, I thought the fall came with fire raining from the sky, hell on earth, the city crumbling to ruins. Truth was, the fall came as soon as I alienated my loved ones. I shoved Spike away first, and the hardest, probably because I knew he was too close to me and far too precious to lose. I remember the exact day and hour I gave him one last kiss. Tried to make it mean something, and the look on his face when I pulled away and left told me that my intuitive childe knew something was wrong.
I hope he never figured it out. Hope that he thought I really loved Nina and wanted to move on. And I hate myself for that, except that it was for the best. It was better for him to resent me and keep at a distance, pretend that I was completely indifferent to him rather than anyone ever discover that, in reality, I was beyond wary of his fate. That last kiss was all I could give him in hopes that one day he'd realize why I had to break him.
He's different, though. I didn't realize it until he stuck around right up to the end. He was the first to volunteer himself. Just like him to tirelessly follow me into hell. I'm afraid that I left him with nothing else to look forward to, but that's where we lived. There were times when we could just sit together companionably and try to make light the weight of our souls. He made it easier, I think. Showed me how to hunt again, and some nights we would just kill until we were so exhausted that we would just collapse in bed with no other reason than the fact that it was just nice. And when the nightmares came, it was more than nice to wake up with just his calm hand on my shoulder, grounding me, but the nightmares were just as frequent for him. We learned how to calm each other, and I learned that the best thing I could do for him was just offer some physical contact to remind him he was real, not in hell, his hands functional, no holes in his head, no drowning in shoes.
It's empty now when I wake up. No calm reassurance, no clingy, sleepy moments. I don't need them, but I liked them. He understood me, and now he's gone… gone somewhere in this hellhole, lost to me while I searched for redemption. He was my redemption, or maybe he was just the best thing I had left, and now he's just a voice in my head, an imaginary commentary on my life. I dedicated myself to finding redemption, and in doing so I've lost everything that made my life good. My friends are dead, my best companion is dead, and Buffy is miles away, and not just geographically.
In the end, all we really have is ourselves. I can't leave this place, because I'm the reason everyone here is damned. The best I can do is save the people that I can, stay alive for another day, and try to make sense of this new town. The world outside isn't pretty. I've seen humans laying dead in the street like so much vermin… only as long as it takes for some scavenger to find the corpses. There are so many demons now, it's completely futile to try to kill them all. They run through LA like it's their new playground. Doesn't mean I don't meet my quota every time I go out, but I recognize there has to be a better way.
Sole champion left in the place, and it makes me the most hated. I kill like a pro, though, and it earns me enough respect for even the stronger demons to stay away. There's a new order here, and a few uneasy treaties. The land has been split up and claimed, but every other day I hear about some self-proclaimed Lord being killed, and the vicious slaughter continues until there's a demon powerful enough to keep his throne… for a while. It continues like this every day, just demons scrambling over the slaughtered to grab the crown.
It occurs to me that if Spike were still alive, he'd take out the biggest, baddest Lords around… just for spite. I finally give into that urge one night, when I can't stand to lurk in the dark any longer. The Lord of Santa Monica has too much power now, too much of a blood thirst, and it's time for a little chaos. I can feel Spike's presence all around me when I head out. It's reassuring, but I know he isn't really here, and I can't find any way to bring him back to me. When I cut open the throat of the Lord of Santa Monica - nearly slicing his head clean off - I can feel Spike's satisfaction. Our satisfaction. He bleeds to death in his throne, guggling, messy. We wanted it to be messy, set an example. There's no resistance in the dead Lord's court. His servants immediately start clawing each other's eyes out to take the title of Lord. If they had any sense, they'd be afraid to take the throne, but we aren't going to do any more damage tonight. We'll wait until a new Lord settles in, and then start this over again if we have to.
Spike is still with me when we get home. I'd like to think he'd like it here. It's nice. Posh, he'd call it. He'd even dig the boarded up windows, the fortified layers to my den. He would be completely at home here, and I wouldn't have to be alone. The nightmares that this place creates wouldn't have to be shouldered alone. I bet they would even go away… a little.
I step into my shower to clean off. Only a little blood got on me, but I need to wash myself of that demon. There's too much loss here to focus on any one death, and in a way that makes it much easier. Focus on the mission, focus on fighting the good fight. The good fight, yea? All swirly coat and enormous forehead. Spike's definitely not gone. If I close my eyes, I can feel him around me, and it makes this all the more bearable. If I stay silent long enough, his voice becomes real. He was always afraid of disappearing, becoming nothing, but if I stay still enough, and quiet enough, he becomes more real than I am.
He's sitting in front of the TV, complaining about how the apocalypse scrambled the signals to hell. He's stilling sips from my mug of blood when I set it down, but I forgive him. He doesn't take much. He's always bouncing around when I go on patrol, or serious and thoughtful, or laughing and wistful, making even the darkest moments of our history seem bright and nice in retrospect. He's waiting for me when I go to sleep at night. He doesn't say a word, then, but the longer I keep my eyes shut, he's there. When the nightmares come, I find myself sitting up, staring off for a long time before I realize where I am. There's no calming touch, no one beside me. He's gone again, and I'm painfully alone.
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: PG-13 (NC-17 series)
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Disclaimer: I do not own.
Summary: Spike keeps him fighting, but Angel is alone in his misery.
I always knew I'd end up alone. I had that fear come to reality a few times in my life already. The first time when I was trying to come to grips with having a soul, and pushed everyone else away from me. The second time when I was left at the bottom of the ocean for months. It was the coldest hell I could imagine, and I had a lot of time to wonder if I would ever be found again. But I have good friends. That's why I drove them all away again. That's why I drove him away.
For the longest time, I thought the fall came with fire raining from the sky, hell on earth, the city crumbling to ruins. Truth was, the fall came as soon as I alienated my loved ones. I shoved Spike away first, and the hardest, probably because I knew he was too close to me and far too precious to lose. I remember the exact day and hour I gave him one last kiss. Tried to make it mean something, and the look on his face when I pulled away and left told me that my intuitive childe knew something was wrong.
I hope he never figured it out. Hope that he thought I really loved Nina and wanted to move on. And I hate myself for that, except that it was for the best. It was better for him to resent me and keep at a distance, pretend that I was completely indifferent to him rather than anyone ever discover that, in reality, I was beyond wary of his fate. That last kiss was all I could give him in hopes that one day he'd realize why I had to break him.
He's different, though. I didn't realize it until he stuck around right up to the end. He was the first to volunteer himself. Just like him to tirelessly follow me into hell. I'm afraid that I left him with nothing else to look forward to, but that's where we lived. There were times when we could just sit together companionably and try to make light the weight of our souls. He made it easier, I think. Showed me how to hunt again, and some nights we would just kill until we were so exhausted that we would just collapse in bed with no other reason than the fact that it was just nice. And when the nightmares came, it was more than nice to wake up with just his calm hand on my shoulder, grounding me, but the nightmares were just as frequent for him. We learned how to calm each other, and I learned that the best thing I could do for him was just offer some physical contact to remind him he was real, not in hell, his hands functional, no holes in his head, no drowning in shoes.
It's empty now when I wake up. No calm reassurance, no clingy, sleepy moments. I don't need them, but I liked them. He understood me, and now he's gone… gone somewhere in this hellhole, lost to me while I searched for redemption. He was my redemption, or maybe he was just the best thing I had left, and now he's just a voice in my head, an imaginary commentary on my life. I dedicated myself to finding redemption, and in doing so I've lost everything that made my life good. My friends are dead, my best companion is dead, and Buffy is miles away, and not just geographically.
In the end, all we really have is ourselves. I can't leave this place, because I'm the reason everyone here is damned. The best I can do is save the people that I can, stay alive for another day, and try to make sense of this new town. The world outside isn't pretty. I've seen humans laying dead in the street like so much vermin… only as long as it takes for some scavenger to find the corpses. There are so many demons now, it's completely futile to try to kill them all. They run through LA like it's their new playground. Doesn't mean I don't meet my quota every time I go out, but I recognize there has to be a better way.
Sole champion left in the place, and it makes me the most hated. I kill like a pro, though, and it earns me enough respect for even the stronger demons to stay away. There's a new order here, and a few uneasy treaties. The land has been split up and claimed, but every other day I hear about some self-proclaimed Lord being killed, and the vicious slaughter continues until there's a demon powerful enough to keep his throne… for a while. It continues like this every day, just demons scrambling over the slaughtered to grab the crown.
It occurs to me that if Spike were still alive, he'd take out the biggest, baddest Lords around… just for spite. I finally give into that urge one night, when I can't stand to lurk in the dark any longer. The Lord of Santa Monica has too much power now, too much of a blood thirst, and it's time for a little chaos. I can feel Spike's presence all around me when I head out. It's reassuring, but I know he isn't really here, and I can't find any way to bring him back to me. When I cut open the throat of the Lord of Santa Monica - nearly slicing his head clean off - I can feel Spike's satisfaction. Our satisfaction. He bleeds to death in his throne, guggling, messy. We wanted it to be messy, set an example. There's no resistance in the dead Lord's court. His servants immediately start clawing each other's eyes out to take the title of Lord. If they had any sense, they'd be afraid to take the throne, but we aren't going to do any more damage tonight. We'll wait until a new Lord settles in, and then start this over again if we have to.
Spike is still with me when we get home. I'd like to think he'd like it here. It's nice. Posh, he'd call it. He'd even dig the boarded up windows, the fortified layers to my den. He would be completely at home here, and I wouldn't have to be alone. The nightmares that this place creates wouldn't have to be shouldered alone. I bet they would even go away… a little.
I step into my shower to clean off. Only a little blood got on me, but I need to wash myself of that demon. There's too much loss here to focus on any one death, and in a way that makes it much easier. Focus on the mission, focus on fighting the good fight. The good fight, yea? All swirly coat and enormous forehead. Spike's definitely not gone. If I close my eyes, I can feel him around me, and it makes this all the more bearable. If I stay silent long enough, his voice becomes real. He was always afraid of disappearing, becoming nothing, but if I stay still enough, and quiet enough, he becomes more real than I am.
He's sitting in front of the TV, complaining about how the apocalypse scrambled the signals to hell. He's stilling sips from my mug of blood when I set it down, but I forgive him. He doesn't take much. He's always bouncing around when I go on patrol, or serious and thoughtful, or laughing and wistful, making even the darkest moments of our history seem bright and nice in retrospect. He's waiting for me when I go to sleep at night. He doesn't say a word, then, but the longer I keep my eyes shut, he's there. When the nightmares come, I find myself sitting up, staring off for a long time before I realize where I am. There's no calming touch, no one beside me. He's gone again, and I'm painfully alone.