Waiting
Fandom: Angel (Buffyverse)
Rating: T
Characters: Spike, Angel
Word Count: 727
Warnings: mutual longing, angst
Summary: Some questions aren’t answered so easily.
A/N: written for 1_million_words Weekend Challenge with the prompt “Never wound what you what you can’t kill.” Wasn’t expecting the muse to be such an angsty bitch with this one, but oh well.
"Never wound what you cannot kill."
"What?" Angel looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, frowning in confusion at the younger vampire looming in the doorway. "Spike, what are you even doing here, thought you went to drink away your disappointment over the Cup of Flat Mountain Dew?"
Spike closed the door behind him and crossed the office, a sad grimace twisting his lips.
"Was, changed my mind, is all. Remembered somethin' you told me once, back when you were teaching me to fight. Never wound what you can't kill. 'S all I've ever done, is wound you." Spike stopped in front of Angel’s desk, his eyes sorrowful as they locked onto the brunette's. "Never could kill you; could never want to. Know I said it was for her sake I wasn't stakin' you...truth is, it was for my own. It'd be like killin' God. Near enough what you are to me; the only God I've known since the night I climbed out of my own grave."
"Spike-"
"Don't. Need to say it, yeah?"
Angel sighed and nodded, mouth closing against further interruptions, trying to ignore all the memories that had been rising within his mind since the moment Spike had regained his physical form less than ten hours ago.
"Ta. Can't bloody kill you, don't want to; can’t keep wounding you, neither. Hurts too much, hurtin' you. Can still smell the blood, seepin' from your shoulder, where I stuck ya, and it bloody well hurts. An' I'm soddin' tired of it. Getting up in each other’s faces, yellin' at each other, tha's one thing. Gets the blood flowin' an' all." Spike looked away from Angel, bracing his hands against the desk, head hanging down as he fought to get the words out, voice thick with emotion. "Don't wanna keep hurtin' you, Sire. Can we be around each other without comin' to blows all the time?"
Spike looked up again, eyes imploring, shining with barely withheld tears.
"Tell me we can, and I'll stay, and I'll help you with your fool's mission; tell me there's more than fists and fangs between us…"
Angel stared up at Spike, wanting to lie, wanting to say that they would never hurt each other again, that he would never hide his feelings behind a well-placed punch. But he was tired of lying, to Spike, to himself. No matter how much he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could let go of the anger and bitterness and jealousy and longing that had built up between them. For so long, he had kept that hope locked away, hope that he would be the sole focus of his Childe's affection, resigned himself to being nothing more than the focus of his ire and enmity. Could he just let all that go, and take what little he was given?
"I don't know…"
"Right…guess that settles things, then." Spike sniffed and straightened up, and turned to leave the office. "Think I'll go get that drink, after all. See you when I see you, mate. Good luck with all...this."
Angel stood from his desk abruptly, unwilling to just let the blonde walk away without giving him a chance to explain. He hadn't expected to see the fight go out of Spike’s eyes so suddenly, had expected the brash, determined vampire to growl and snap at him, and press the issue.
"Spike, wait…"
"'M done waiting, Angel. Been waitin' since the moment we met, can't do it anymore. Can't keep waitin' for you to figure out what you don't know. Good bye, Angelus, don't let this place be the death of you, yeah?"
Angel stood staring at the door long after it closed, regret and sorrow etched upon his face as he waited for it to open again, for Spike to come back like he always did and laugh at him, tell him it was all an act and call him a poof, or a ponce, or a Nancy for believing any of it. He stood there and stared until the sky began to lighten, the sun rising over the giant buildings that made up the view outside the office window, left a note on Harmony's desk and retreated up to the penthouse to continue his waiting in solitude, not wanting to have to field any more questions he didn't have answers to.
Rating: T
Characters: Spike, Angel
Word Count: 727
Warnings: mutual longing, angst
Summary: Some questions aren’t answered so easily.
A/N: written for 1_million_words Weekend Challenge with the prompt “Never wound what you what you can’t kill.” Wasn’t expecting the muse to be such an angsty bitch with this one, but oh well.
"Never wound what you cannot kill."
"What?" Angel looked up from the stack of papers on his desk, frowning in confusion at the younger vampire looming in the doorway. "Spike, what are you even doing here, thought you went to drink away your disappointment over the Cup of Flat Mountain Dew?"
Spike closed the door behind him and crossed the office, a sad grimace twisting his lips.
"Was, changed my mind, is all. Remembered somethin' you told me once, back when you were teaching me to fight. Never wound what you can't kill. 'S all I've ever done, is wound you." Spike stopped in front of Angel’s desk, his eyes sorrowful as they locked onto the brunette's. "Never could kill you; could never want to. Know I said it was for her sake I wasn't stakin' you...truth is, it was for my own. It'd be like killin' God. Near enough what you are to me; the only God I've known since the night I climbed out of my own grave."
"Spike-"
"Don't. Need to say it, yeah?"
Angel sighed and nodded, mouth closing against further interruptions, trying to ignore all the memories that had been rising within his mind since the moment Spike had regained his physical form less than ten hours ago.
"Ta. Can't bloody kill you, don't want to; can’t keep wounding you, neither. Hurts too much, hurtin' you. Can still smell the blood, seepin' from your shoulder, where I stuck ya, and it bloody well hurts. An' I'm soddin' tired of it. Getting up in each other’s faces, yellin' at each other, tha's one thing. Gets the blood flowin' an' all." Spike looked away from Angel, bracing his hands against the desk, head hanging down as he fought to get the words out, voice thick with emotion. "Don't wanna keep hurtin' you, Sire. Can we be around each other without comin' to blows all the time?"
Spike looked up again, eyes imploring, shining with barely withheld tears.
"Tell me we can, and I'll stay, and I'll help you with your fool's mission; tell me there's more than fists and fangs between us…"
Angel stared up at Spike, wanting to lie, wanting to say that they would never hurt each other again, that he would never hide his feelings behind a well-placed punch. But he was tired of lying, to Spike, to himself. No matter how much he wanted to, he wasn't sure he could let go of the anger and bitterness and jealousy and longing that had built up between them. For so long, he had kept that hope locked away, hope that he would be the sole focus of his Childe's affection, resigned himself to being nothing more than the focus of his ire and enmity. Could he just let all that go, and take what little he was given?
"I don't know…"
"Right…guess that settles things, then." Spike sniffed and straightened up, and turned to leave the office. "Think I'll go get that drink, after all. See you when I see you, mate. Good luck with all...this."
Angel stood from his desk abruptly, unwilling to just let the blonde walk away without giving him a chance to explain. He hadn't expected to see the fight go out of Spike’s eyes so suddenly, had expected the brash, determined vampire to growl and snap at him, and press the issue.
"Spike, wait…"
"'M done waiting, Angel. Been waitin' since the moment we met, can't do it anymore. Can't keep waitin' for you to figure out what you don't know. Good bye, Angelus, don't let this place be the death of you, yeah?"
Angel stood staring at the door long after it closed, regret and sorrow etched upon his face as he waited for it to open again, for Spike to come back like he always did and laugh at him, tell him it was all an act and call him a poof, or a ponce, or a Nancy for believing any of it. He stood there and stared until the sky began to lighten, the sun rising over the giant buildings that made up the view outside the office window, left a note on Harmony's desk and retreated up to the penthouse to continue his waiting in solitude, not wanting to have to field any more questions he didn't have answers to.