30 Days ~ Day 4
More for my memories...
Title: 30 Days
Authors: writtenbyfates (femailofthespecies and claudia6913)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modeled after the FX original series 30 Days. Spike gets to spend 30 days with a soul and living with Angel. Will this give him the perspective he needs to understand Angel?
Disclaimer: We neither own Angel, Spike, nor the show 30 Days. That all belongs to their respective owners and we are merely borrowing to play.
Previous Days
Day 4
Waking up alone is something to which Spike is unaccustomed. Drusilla had always been there by his side either wrapped around him or near enough so that he felt her presence when he woke. Spike distinctly remembers falling asleep with a hard body pressed against his back, and now it is missing. For a moment, he thinks he might panic. The sensation then passes as he reaches out with other senses gifted to him by the one who made him, and finds his sire on the floor above him.
Stretching, Spike feels the burn of the previous night’s activities and smiles.
Before he has time to luxuriate in the feeling of a good shag, his soul kicks in, awakening in its own uniquely painful way. Spike’s body stills as the memories wash over him, the voices fill his head, and the images all race past his wide, staring eyes. It begins slowly, like a movie, black and white melting into vivid color as blood spills, and screams ring in his ears. Then the images speed up, flying past him, bursts of color, splashes of red dark enough to stain his eyes.
He hears a scream and doesn’t know that it is coming from him until he hears footsteps pounding down the stairs.
“Spike!” Angel yells, running into the room, followed closely by the Seer and Wesley.
Angel swoops down on him like a bird of prey, large hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly enough to hurt and Spike jerks away, annoyed that he has an audience. “I’m fine.”
Suspecting the problem, Angels lessens his hold, but gives Spike’s shoulder a firm squeeze, hoping his childe will understand that he’s been there. The blond does, but only nods, wishing that the humans would go away.
“Hey Spike,” Cordelia says with a big smile. “Want me to fix up some blood for you?”
“Yeah, pet. That’d be wonderful.” Anything to get her to leave for a while. He wants to get himself together before he loses it again. The voices are still blaring in his head, but it’s like the volume is turned low. “And maybe some cookies?”
“Cookies?” She glances at Angel who nods and she sighs. “Okay. Cookies.” Her hand is out, waiting. Angel just stares for a moment until he gets it and takes a twenty from his wallet.
“I want the change,” he tells her as she marches up the stairs. When he turns back he feels Wesley doing what he does best … watching.
Wesley has taken in the entire scene, not quite as distracted by Spike’s histrionics as his co-worker. He raises an eyebrow at Angel who glances away quickly, preferring to focus on Spike. The blond’s neck is marred by last nights reclaiming. Angel sighs, knowing exactly what Wesley is thinking, which happens to be true.
Tom grins at Jeff as he comes quietly down the stairs. They are getting great footage for the show.
“Gonna say something mate, or just stand there like a statue?” Spike asks Wesley, still annoyed because the man is still there. Spike glimpses bit of concern flashing across the Watcher’s face, but it’s gone as Wesley turns to face Angel.
“I’m merely curious,” Wesley says, looking around. The bed is rumpled completely, and he has a good idea as to why, but again, says nothing. That his employer is sleeping with the tousled blond in the bed is not something he wishes to dwell on at this point, although the idea is disturbingly intriguing.
“Yeah? Well, go be curious somewhere else, eh?” Spike is in no mood to entertain anything the Watcher is thinking.
Taking the not-so-subtle hint, Wesley steps back. “I should help Cordelia.” He walks up the stairs.
Alone, or as alone as they are going to get with the cameras constantly looming about, Angel cautiously takes a seat next to Spike on the bed.
“What happened?”
Spike sighs, relaxing a bit now that Angel's pets are gone. “Bloody soul happened. Woke up fine, feeling it, you know.”
Angel does.
“Then these people are in my head, screaming at me, like I’m killing them all over again. It’s not right.” He leans over to the bedside table and grabs his pack of cigarettes. Angel watches the muscles of his stomach, move as he twists and stretches to reach the Zippo.
“That how it is for you, then?” Spike asks though pursed lips as he flicks the lighter open and lines the flame up to his fag. Inhaling deeply, the nicotine gets inside him and does its job, lending him the illusion of calm.
“Sometimes,” Angel replies. “It was in the beginning, but not so much anymore.”
“I can’t fucking do this, Angelus,” Spike groans in frustration. Each agonized scream tears at him, making him … regret.
The words, You should have thought of that before are on the tip of Angel’s tongue, but he swallows them. Instead, Angel sighs as well and places his hand on Spike’s shoulder, again squeezing him gently, unable to conjure up any words of wisdom.
“Don’t bloody patronize me,” Spike says petulantly, pulling away. “’M sure you’re having a right laugh up in your office, tellin’ your little pets how this is typical for me. Don’t need it shoved in my face.”
“I wasn’t-“
“Sod off!” Spike yells cutting him off. He crawls to the opposite end of the bed, as far away from the Ponce as he could get. Pity is not something he wants. What he wants, is to be rid of the soul for good, then go from there. Killing.
Angel lets him retreat into self-pity. He remembers these days vividly, and as painful as they were at the time, the anguish is something Spike will have to learn to endure quickly. The upside is that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for his blond; in 26 days he will be free to kill at will without remorse.
Blinking, Angel wonders when he began thinking that being soul-free was a good thing. Yet it seems as likely a solution to Spike temporary depression as any other so he latches onto that angle.
“Listen, Spike. I know how you feel. Believe me.” His eyes drift heavenward as he warms to his speech. “I killed so many … you … and the faces haunted my dreams. I heard their cries for years and still do on bad days when something triggers a particular memory. But you …” He shifts on the bed and places his hand on Spike's bare back, resisting the desire to caress him in a way that is decidedly non-comforting. “You’re already dealing with this better than I did. I hid in the fields and shitty barns for the first few weeks … And there’s only 26 days to go right?”
Spike turns and glares at him. “So 26 more days of someone dripping holy water on your willy and you’d be what … happily counting down to the day when it stops? And when did you get so soddin’ chatty?”
That mental image makes Angel cringe. “It’s not that bad.”
Snorting, Spike says, “Shows what you know. Or’d you forget that night-“
“No, I didn’t forget,” Angel says quickly. It’s obvious to him that Spike wants to wallow in misery today, and while normally he would be all for leaving the vampire alone to whine, he won’t have any of it.
Standing, Angel walks to the door. “I want you upstairs, dressed, and your head out of your ass in fifteen minutes, William.” With that, Angel leaves, smiling as he hears Spike sputtering indignantly behind him.
**********
His childe has exactly one minute to get upstairs before Angel goes down and drags him up. During Spike’s petulance downstairs, Angel decided that he would not tolerate any more antics from the blond. It isn’t Angel’s fault that the dumb ass had gone and done something stupid, again.
“Angel?” It’s Wesley.
The vampire turns, hoping to look menacing enough to deter any questions, but unintentionally so.
“Can I have a word with you?” he asks, holding his glasses tightly.
“Yeah, Wes. What’s up?” Apparently, Angel needs to work on his menace.
They go into his office and shut the door in Jeff’s face. The cameraman tries the handle, but the door is locked and he sighs and presses his ear to the wood, jumping when Cordelia comes up behind him to do the same thing. The pair shares a secretive smile as they listen closely.
Inside, Angel is standing, too edgy to take a seat, and Wesley leans against his large desk, arms crossed.
“What’s going on, Angel?”
He gives the human his innocent puppy eyes. “Huh? Nothing? Going on like what?” He thinks that if Wesley has to actually say the words he’ll back down, being too proper and all.
“With Spike. And the bed. And the …nudity.” He whispers the last word.
“Have you been drinking?” Angel asks, thinking quickly of a way out of this conversation. He knows that he could simply wave Wesley out of his office, but at the very least, he wants to make sure that the human will ask no more questions and drop the subject. Wesley, still a Watcher at heart, is something Angel hasn’t quite figured into the equation.
“What?!” Wesley asks, outraged at such an accusation. “Angel, you know that I value this job and your mission and would never do anything to compromise it. That you would even suggest such a thing is evidence that it is you who is not in your right mind.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t in your right mind, Wesley,” Angel says calmly. “I was simply asking a question. And for you to get so worked up over it leads me to believe that you have in fact been drinking.”
Wesley sputters. “My God,” he whispers. He is baffled as to how this came about. He has only wandered in here hoping to ask Angel a few questions as to the nature of his relationship with Spike, of which he considers entirely unhealthy … and to record it for television surely has to be an affront to all demon kind … but he never thinks Angel might go to such a level as to accuse him of drinking on the job as a diversionary tactic.
“You really should save that for after hours. I may even join you for a whisky, but now…” he slides his eyes away from Wesley, as if embarrassed for him and is immediately regretting it.
Wesley huffs, turning red in the face from anger and begins to yell at him. “You’ll stop this nonsense this instant, Angel. I won’t be deterred by false accusations and subterfuge. You are having sex with Spike and I want to know why you would jeopardize your mission in this way. I seriously doubt the Powers approve.”
Angel stands there with his arms crossed, cringing slightly when the door opens and Cordelia comes inside, hiding a key in her pocket as she slips up next to Wesley. Tom follows her in, unnoticed by the humans, but Angel is all too aware. “I saw it too and if you even think about opening your mouth to call me a drunk, I’m maxing out all the cards.” She raises her eyebrow, daring him.
“Crap,” Angel mutters under his breath. People really are too curious for their own good and it is no wonder they find themselves in trouble more often than not. “Look, can we … talk about this later?”
“Talk ‘bout what?” Spike asks, sauntering in the room, his clothes hanging off him as if he’d just thrown them on.
“About why you and Angel are sleeping together,” Cordy pipes in, unashamed. Wesley blushes and Angel simply looks away, shaking his head. “What? It’s not like either of you would actually grow a pair between you and say it.”
“What’d you want to know, pet? Positions? Names? Who took who?”
“Stop it!” Angel yells. “It doesn’t matter, alright?”
“No, it is not alright,” Wesley says, taking a step forward. The camera zooms in on him. “Angel, this isn’t healthy. We only have your best interests at heart.”
Spike scoffs. “Right. ‘S why Princess ‘ere keeps a soddin’ stake and bottle of good ‘ole Holy Water in her purse.”
All eyes fall to Cordy as she looks a little flustered. “Who? Me?”
Spike raises his eyebrow and eyes her until she breaks.
“Well, I’m not gonna take a chance on Brood Boy boffing Buffy and psycho, blood-thirsty, Captain Overbite getting loose. A girl likes to be prepared,” she defends with a nod.
“I never said it wasn’t smart. Angelus had some nasty things in mind for you.”
“Spike. Shut. Up.” Angel’s teeth are clenched and there is a vein popping up in the middle of his forehead, which Spike finds amazing since he has no circulation.
“Just saying, if your better half got out, little Miss Vision here would be the new poster girl for Tortures R Us.” He leans into Cordelia and lets his voice drop an octave. “You’d look smashing in chains, I’d wager.”
“You wanted to torture me?” Cordelia whirls on Angel, her hair flopping messily behind her back. Spike takes a tendril between two fingers and fondles the silkiness while looking at Angel, waiting for him to lie or tell the truth. Then she spins around and faces Spike, her hair coming loose in the process. “And what were you are doing in my purse, Mister?”
“What? Never said I couldn’t, did you? ‘Sides, a bloke gets bored,” Spike says, defending his own actions. He smirks as Cordelia rolls her eyes and whirls back to Angel.
“I think what Wesley was trying to get at was, we don’t know what to expect with the Bleached Wonder here. Who know’s, maybe it’s blond’s in general that get Angelus all riled up and ready to break out.”
“Very observant, pet,” Spike says appreciatively. This one has spunk and he likes her.
“Really? You think so?” Cordy asks, smiling.
“Oh, definitely.”
“Why thank you, Spike.”
“Are you two done yet?” Angel asks. “While I appreciate your concern, it’s not needed. It’s highly unlikely I’d feel any sort of perfect happiness when most of the time I’d much rather stake him.”
“An’ he means that both figuratively and literally,” Spike whispers in Cordy’s ear and she works not to laugh.
Growling, Angel points to the door and they scamper away, except for Spike, who is taking his time sauntering out. Too late he realizes his mistake and Angel has by the throat and against the door he has just closed behind Wesley.
Tom tries to zoom in and freezes as Angel’s head snaps in his direction, a gold-flecked gaze burning through him. The vampire opens the door enough while keep a squirming Spike in his grasp. “Leave or I will do very bad things to you,” he says calmly.
The cameraman doesn’t hesitate another second and is out with the door, slamming it firmly behind him.
“What is wrong with you, Spike?”
The blond croaks a few words but can’t talk, not with the Angel’s beefy paw clawing at him. The pressure lessens as Angel rolls his eyes. “You’re ashamed of me,” he replies quietly.
Angel’s hand loosens more and he sighs, stepping away from the unruly vampire. “I’m not ashamed of you, Spike.” His voice is tired, worn out, sick of arguing, and annoyed with trying to explain himself to someone who never understood him and probably never would.
“You are,” Spike says, his voice wavering, his eyes watering, no matter how hard he tries to fight it. “Never wanted me to begin with, did you? Had to clean up Dru’s little mess in the alley.”
“It wasn’t like that and you know it. Or hell, maybe you don’t. I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care anymore. You’ll think what you like, just as you always have. Now, if you don’t mind,” Angel says, taking a seat at his desk, “I’ve got work to do.”
Effectively dismissed, and knowing when he isn’t wanted, Spike walks out of the office and down the stairs, not stopping when Cordy calls after him. If Angel doesn’t want him here, then he won’t stay.
Spike finds the hatch to the sewers easily, having gone through it once before, and slips into the dank darkness, intent on leaving this hellhole of a freakshow behind.
~~~~~
Title: 30 Days
Authors: writtenbyfates (femailofthespecies and claudia6913)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modeled after the FX original series 30 Days. Spike gets to spend 30 days with a soul and living with Angel. Will this give him the perspective he needs to understand Angel?
Disclaimer: We neither own Angel, Spike, nor the show 30 Days. That all belongs to their respective owners and we are merely borrowing to play.
Previous Days
Day 4
Waking up alone is something to which Spike is unaccustomed. Drusilla had always been there by his side either wrapped around him or near enough so that he felt her presence when he woke. Spike distinctly remembers falling asleep with a hard body pressed against his back, and now it is missing. For a moment, he thinks he might panic. The sensation then passes as he reaches out with other senses gifted to him by the one who made him, and finds his sire on the floor above him.
Stretching, Spike feels the burn of the previous night’s activities and smiles.
Before he has time to luxuriate in the feeling of a good shag, his soul kicks in, awakening in its own uniquely painful way. Spike’s body stills as the memories wash over him, the voices fill his head, and the images all race past his wide, staring eyes. It begins slowly, like a movie, black and white melting into vivid color as blood spills, and screams ring in his ears. Then the images speed up, flying past him, bursts of color, splashes of red dark enough to stain his eyes.
He hears a scream and doesn’t know that it is coming from him until he hears footsteps pounding down the stairs.
“Spike!” Angel yells, running into the room, followed closely by the Seer and Wesley.
Angel swoops down on him like a bird of prey, large hands on his shoulders, gripping him tightly enough to hurt and Spike jerks away, annoyed that he has an audience. “I’m fine.”
Suspecting the problem, Angels lessens his hold, but gives Spike’s shoulder a firm squeeze, hoping his childe will understand that he’s been there. The blond does, but only nods, wishing that the humans would go away.
“Hey Spike,” Cordelia says with a big smile. “Want me to fix up some blood for you?”
“Yeah, pet. That’d be wonderful.” Anything to get her to leave for a while. He wants to get himself together before he loses it again. The voices are still blaring in his head, but it’s like the volume is turned low. “And maybe some cookies?”
“Cookies?” She glances at Angel who nods and she sighs. “Okay. Cookies.” Her hand is out, waiting. Angel just stares for a moment until he gets it and takes a twenty from his wallet.
“I want the change,” he tells her as she marches up the stairs. When he turns back he feels Wesley doing what he does best … watching.
Wesley has taken in the entire scene, not quite as distracted by Spike’s histrionics as his co-worker. He raises an eyebrow at Angel who glances away quickly, preferring to focus on Spike. The blond’s neck is marred by last nights reclaiming. Angel sighs, knowing exactly what Wesley is thinking, which happens to be true.
Tom grins at Jeff as he comes quietly down the stairs. They are getting great footage for the show.
“Gonna say something mate, or just stand there like a statue?” Spike asks Wesley, still annoyed because the man is still there. Spike glimpses bit of concern flashing across the Watcher’s face, but it’s gone as Wesley turns to face Angel.
“I’m merely curious,” Wesley says, looking around. The bed is rumpled completely, and he has a good idea as to why, but again, says nothing. That his employer is sleeping with the tousled blond in the bed is not something he wishes to dwell on at this point, although the idea is disturbingly intriguing.
“Yeah? Well, go be curious somewhere else, eh?” Spike is in no mood to entertain anything the Watcher is thinking.
Taking the not-so-subtle hint, Wesley steps back. “I should help Cordelia.” He walks up the stairs.
Alone, or as alone as they are going to get with the cameras constantly looming about, Angel cautiously takes a seat next to Spike on the bed.
“What happened?”
Spike sighs, relaxing a bit now that Angel's pets are gone. “Bloody soul happened. Woke up fine, feeling it, you know.”
Angel does.
“Then these people are in my head, screaming at me, like I’m killing them all over again. It’s not right.” He leans over to the bedside table and grabs his pack of cigarettes. Angel watches the muscles of his stomach, move as he twists and stretches to reach the Zippo.
“That how it is for you, then?” Spike asks though pursed lips as he flicks the lighter open and lines the flame up to his fag. Inhaling deeply, the nicotine gets inside him and does its job, lending him the illusion of calm.
“Sometimes,” Angel replies. “It was in the beginning, but not so much anymore.”
“I can’t fucking do this, Angelus,” Spike groans in frustration. Each agonized scream tears at him, making him … regret.
The words, You should have thought of that before are on the tip of Angel’s tongue, but he swallows them. Instead, Angel sighs as well and places his hand on Spike’s shoulder, again squeezing him gently, unable to conjure up any words of wisdom.
“Don’t bloody patronize me,” Spike says petulantly, pulling away. “’M sure you’re having a right laugh up in your office, tellin’ your little pets how this is typical for me. Don’t need it shoved in my face.”
“I wasn’t-“
“Sod off!” Spike yells cutting him off. He crawls to the opposite end of the bed, as far away from the Ponce as he could get. Pity is not something he wants. What he wants, is to be rid of the soul for good, then go from there. Killing.
Angel lets him retreat into self-pity. He remembers these days vividly, and as painful as they were at the time, the anguish is something Spike will have to learn to endure quickly. The upside is that there is a light at the end of the tunnel for his blond; in 26 days he will be free to kill at will without remorse.
Blinking, Angel wonders when he began thinking that being soul-free was a good thing. Yet it seems as likely a solution to Spike temporary depression as any other so he latches onto that angle.
“Listen, Spike. I know how you feel. Believe me.” His eyes drift heavenward as he warms to his speech. “I killed so many … you … and the faces haunted my dreams. I heard their cries for years and still do on bad days when something triggers a particular memory. But you …” He shifts on the bed and places his hand on Spike's bare back, resisting the desire to caress him in a way that is decidedly non-comforting. “You’re already dealing with this better than I did. I hid in the fields and shitty barns for the first few weeks … And there’s only 26 days to go right?”
Spike turns and glares at him. “So 26 more days of someone dripping holy water on your willy and you’d be what … happily counting down to the day when it stops? And when did you get so soddin’ chatty?”
That mental image makes Angel cringe. “It’s not that bad.”
Snorting, Spike says, “Shows what you know. Or’d you forget that night-“
“No, I didn’t forget,” Angel says quickly. It’s obvious to him that Spike wants to wallow in misery today, and while normally he would be all for leaving the vampire alone to whine, he won’t have any of it.
Standing, Angel walks to the door. “I want you upstairs, dressed, and your head out of your ass in fifteen minutes, William.” With that, Angel leaves, smiling as he hears Spike sputtering indignantly behind him.
**********
His childe has exactly one minute to get upstairs before Angel goes down and drags him up. During Spike’s petulance downstairs, Angel decided that he would not tolerate any more antics from the blond. It isn’t Angel’s fault that the dumb ass had gone and done something stupid, again.
“Angel?” It’s Wesley.
The vampire turns, hoping to look menacing enough to deter any questions, but unintentionally so.
“Can I have a word with you?” he asks, holding his glasses tightly.
“Yeah, Wes. What’s up?” Apparently, Angel needs to work on his menace.
They go into his office and shut the door in Jeff’s face. The cameraman tries the handle, but the door is locked and he sighs and presses his ear to the wood, jumping when Cordelia comes up behind him to do the same thing. The pair shares a secretive smile as they listen closely.
Inside, Angel is standing, too edgy to take a seat, and Wesley leans against his large desk, arms crossed.
“What’s going on, Angel?”
He gives the human his innocent puppy eyes. “Huh? Nothing? Going on like what?” He thinks that if Wesley has to actually say the words he’ll back down, being too proper and all.
“With Spike. And the bed. And the …nudity.” He whispers the last word.
“Have you been drinking?” Angel asks, thinking quickly of a way out of this conversation. He knows that he could simply wave Wesley out of his office, but at the very least, he wants to make sure that the human will ask no more questions and drop the subject. Wesley, still a Watcher at heart, is something Angel hasn’t quite figured into the equation.
“What?!” Wesley asks, outraged at such an accusation. “Angel, you know that I value this job and your mission and would never do anything to compromise it. That you would even suggest such a thing is evidence that it is you who is not in your right mind.”
“I didn’t say you weren’t in your right mind, Wesley,” Angel says calmly. “I was simply asking a question. And for you to get so worked up over it leads me to believe that you have in fact been drinking.”
Wesley sputters. “My God,” he whispers. He is baffled as to how this came about. He has only wandered in here hoping to ask Angel a few questions as to the nature of his relationship with Spike, of which he considers entirely unhealthy … and to record it for television surely has to be an affront to all demon kind … but he never thinks Angel might go to such a level as to accuse him of drinking on the job as a diversionary tactic.
“You really should save that for after hours. I may even join you for a whisky, but now…” he slides his eyes away from Wesley, as if embarrassed for him and is immediately regretting it.
Wesley huffs, turning red in the face from anger and begins to yell at him. “You’ll stop this nonsense this instant, Angel. I won’t be deterred by false accusations and subterfuge. You are having sex with Spike and I want to know why you would jeopardize your mission in this way. I seriously doubt the Powers approve.”
Angel stands there with his arms crossed, cringing slightly when the door opens and Cordelia comes inside, hiding a key in her pocket as she slips up next to Wesley. Tom follows her in, unnoticed by the humans, but Angel is all too aware. “I saw it too and if you even think about opening your mouth to call me a drunk, I’m maxing out all the cards.” She raises her eyebrow, daring him.
“Crap,” Angel mutters under his breath. People really are too curious for their own good and it is no wonder they find themselves in trouble more often than not. “Look, can we … talk about this later?”
“Talk ‘bout what?” Spike asks, sauntering in the room, his clothes hanging off him as if he’d just thrown them on.
“About why you and Angel are sleeping together,” Cordy pipes in, unashamed. Wesley blushes and Angel simply looks away, shaking his head. “What? It’s not like either of you would actually grow a pair between you and say it.”
“What’d you want to know, pet? Positions? Names? Who took who?”
“Stop it!” Angel yells. “It doesn’t matter, alright?”
“No, it is not alright,” Wesley says, taking a step forward. The camera zooms in on him. “Angel, this isn’t healthy. We only have your best interests at heart.”
Spike scoffs. “Right. ‘S why Princess ‘ere keeps a soddin’ stake and bottle of good ‘ole Holy Water in her purse.”
All eyes fall to Cordy as she looks a little flustered. “Who? Me?”
Spike raises his eyebrow and eyes her until she breaks.
“Well, I’m not gonna take a chance on Brood Boy boffing Buffy and psycho, blood-thirsty, Captain Overbite getting loose. A girl likes to be prepared,” she defends with a nod.
“I never said it wasn’t smart. Angelus had some nasty things in mind for you.”
“Spike. Shut. Up.” Angel’s teeth are clenched and there is a vein popping up in the middle of his forehead, which Spike finds amazing since he has no circulation.
“Just saying, if your better half got out, little Miss Vision here would be the new poster girl for Tortures R Us.” He leans into Cordelia and lets his voice drop an octave. “You’d look smashing in chains, I’d wager.”
“You wanted to torture me?” Cordelia whirls on Angel, her hair flopping messily behind her back. Spike takes a tendril between two fingers and fondles the silkiness while looking at Angel, waiting for him to lie or tell the truth. Then she spins around and faces Spike, her hair coming loose in the process. “And what were you are doing in my purse, Mister?”
“What? Never said I couldn’t, did you? ‘Sides, a bloke gets bored,” Spike says, defending his own actions. He smirks as Cordelia rolls her eyes and whirls back to Angel.
“I think what Wesley was trying to get at was, we don’t know what to expect with the Bleached Wonder here. Who know’s, maybe it’s blond’s in general that get Angelus all riled up and ready to break out.”
“Very observant, pet,” Spike says appreciatively. This one has spunk and he likes her.
“Really? You think so?” Cordy asks, smiling.
“Oh, definitely.”
“Why thank you, Spike.”
“Are you two done yet?” Angel asks. “While I appreciate your concern, it’s not needed. It’s highly unlikely I’d feel any sort of perfect happiness when most of the time I’d much rather stake him.”
“An’ he means that both figuratively and literally,” Spike whispers in Cordy’s ear and she works not to laugh.
Growling, Angel points to the door and they scamper away, except for Spike, who is taking his time sauntering out. Too late he realizes his mistake and Angel has by the throat and against the door he has just closed behind Wesley.
Tom tries to zoom in and freezes as Angel’s head snaps in his direction, a gold-flecked gaze burning through him. The vampire opens the door enough while keep a squirming Spike in his grasp. “Leave or I will do very bad things to you,” he says calmly.
The cameraman doesn’t hesitate another second and is out with the door, slamming it firmly behind him.
“What is wrong with you, Spike?”
The blond croaks a few words but can’t talk, not with the Angel’s beefy paw clawing at him. The pressure lessens as Angel rolls his eyes. “You’re ashamed of me,” he replies quietly.
Angel’s hand loosens more and he sighs, stepping away from the unruly vampire. “I’m not ashamed of you, Spike.” His voice is tired, worn out, sick of arguing, and annoyed with trying to explain himself to someone who never understood him and probably never would.
“You are,” Spike says, his voice wavering, his eyes watering, no matter how hard he tries to fight it. “Never wanted me to begin with, did you? Had to clean up Dru’s little mess in the alley.”
“It wasn’t like that and you know it. Or hell, maybe you don’t. I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t care anymore. You’ll think what you like, just as you always have. Now, if you don’t mind,” Angel says, taking a seat at his desk, “I’ve got work to do.”
Effectively dismissed, and knowing when he isn’t wanted, Spike walks out of the office and down the stairs, not stopping when Cordy calls after him. If Angel doesn’t want him here, then he won’t stay.
Spike finds the hatch to the sewers easily, having gone through it once before, and slips into the dank darkness, intent on leaving this hellhole of a freakshow behind.
~~~~~