You Won't Be Mine (Chapter 4)
Title: You Won't Be Mine (Chapter 4)
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: Hi guys! The scene
dreamsofspangel wanted to see is in this chapter. I hope it works for you sweets :) Again, please let me know if there's something you'd like to see from the past or just are curious about and I'll try to get it in. Thank you so much for reading and for your comments!
Chapter 4
Angel.
For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other as though they were trying to see if the other was real. Spike apparently came to the conclusion that Angel was not and began to slowly push the door closed, as though this would make the worrisome image disappear.
Just as slowly, Angel stopped the door’s progress and Spike looked up to his eyes, now unable to doubt his appearance. Spike stood waiting, and Angel knew that he had to speak first as he was the one who precipitated this meeting. He knew that whatever he said could determine whether this encounter went well or not.
“Do you have any idea how worried Buffy’s been?”
As usual, Angel stuck his foot in it.
Spike’s open face suddenly closed down as his eyes narrowed to cutting blue slits and his mouth to a thin, tense line.
“Yeah, mate?” he all but spit. “’Pologize for me, will ya? It wasn’t ‘er I was trying to get away from!”
He then began to push the door closed with a lot more intent than before. Angel, realizing that all of his chances (of what he was still not exactly sure) were about to be sealed away by that door, stuck his hand in the quickly narrowing crack between the door and the frame.
“Damn it, Spike! We have to talk about this! I spent a day in a bathroom stall for you! Don’t close the door!”
Angel was able to wrench it open and then swiftly stepped inside. Spike stepped back and looked at him with his hands crossed over his chest.
“What do we have to talk about, Angel?” It wasn’t said with particular malice, just with a clear distrust.
“You disappeared!” Angel did not understand why Spike was so angry with him. He was the one with the right to be angry, damn it! “I woke up and you’re gone and I had no idea what you were doing. You can’t just leave people without a word like that!”
Spike gave a cutting laugh.
“Wot can I say? Learned from the best.”
“That was different, Spike! You can’t compare your time-of-the-month mood swing with having to deal with a new soul!”
“Oi! This is not your house. You want to insult me? You’ve got the effing address now, write me a bloody letter!” Spike was now holding his hands in fists at his sides and was approaching Angel slowly.
“I didn’t come here to fight you, Spike.” Angel growled, standing his ground.
“Then what’d you come for?” Spike snapped.
“I - I don’t know.” Angel looked down, his righteous anger deflated in the face of the question that he still could not figure out.
“I was worried too, it wasn’t just Buffy -- ” Suddenly, Spike’s previous comment about Buffy sunk in.
“Wait, you said you weren’t trying to get away from Buf-was it me you were trying to get away from, Will?” Angel was speaking gently now and his voice wavered with hurt.
“It’s Spike, mate.” Spike said equally gently, wanting to make this as painless as possible. Angel wasn’t sure why he was there, but Spike sure as hell had a guess. And now that he knew what a happy and equal relationship was, there was no way he would go back to that.
“What?” Angel’s voice sounded suspiciously raspy.
“I’m not your Will anymore. You can’t start calling me that again now.”
“What do you mean - Wi-I mean, Spike -”
And then Angel started to take in the apartment and everything began to piece together. It was neat. Far too neat for it to be Spike’s alone.
“Do you have a maid?” Angel asked hopefully. He began to walk quickly into the apartment, hoping that his suspicions would be proved wrong.
“Wot? Uh, no.” Spike didn’t understand what Angel was getting at. “Oi!” He shouted as Angel opened the door to the bedroom and he grabbed Angel’s arm.
“Didn’t even invite you! Don’t go looking around wherever you want! No maid hog-tied in there, promise. We don’t have the dosh for that.”
Spike’s words replayed in his head as Angel’s face snapped down to his.
Bugger. Spike’s eyes widened. He had not meant to break it to Angel like that. Angel yanked his arm away and stepped inside the bedroom to reveal an unmade double bed.
“We?” Angel’s voice was shaking; Spike couldn’t tell with what. “You think that you deserve to be a part of a ‘we’? What poor girl have you tricked into this?”
“You arsehole! I don’t trick anyone! But you! Dru, Buffy, hell, I’m going to throw in Tits as well, ‘cause fuck knows none of them knew the real you until it was too late!” Spike was ready for this fight to happen. He’d been ready for this fight for a long time.
“You’re saying you found someone who wants you, Spike? Who gets who you are, what you are, what you’ve done?” Angel knew, knew, these were low blows, playing off of Spike’s worst fears.
Spike roared as his face shifted and he was about to leap forward when suddenly he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.
“Yes.” Said Bartleby’s calming voice, though the threat in his unwavering gaze on Angel was clear. “Yes, he has.”
“Who are you?” Angel growled and then gave a nod towards Spike, whose demon face had slowly dropped away. “Do you know what he is?”
“I’m his.” Bartleby stated evenly as he brought his hand down from Spike’s shoulder so that he could wrap his arm around Spike’s waist. “And I think I know him better than you ever have.”
Angel looked with a kind of horror-struck fascination at the stranger.
Spike has a human lover? A human male lover? Has he - I was the only one who had ever -
He couldn’t understand how this hurt worse than Buffy moving on. He and Spike had not been in a relationship. Oh, Angelus’ crazed rage for his childe that he could feel building up, that he could understand. But this? This was different.
And this asshole didn’t even fear him! Angel didn’t smell fear, or sweat, or -
Blood. I can’t smell his blood.
“Loki sent you here, didn’t he?” the stranger asked knowingly.
“Loki? Um, yes, but -” Angel started to piece together what he was sensing. No blood. No heartbeat. Warmth.
“You’re an angel.”
Bartleby nodded and Angel burst out into a dangerous laughter.
“Really Spike? Really? You leave me and go to a tall, dark, ANGEL? And you were just trying to tell me that I need to get over you?”
“Yes arsewipe, because I’m the one that did move on!” Spike shouted back, moving towards Angel. Bartleby stayed where he was. He wanted to provide support, but he knew that Spike would want to deal with this on his own. Treating Spike like a damsel in distress? Never a good idea.
“What do you do, Angel? It’s been twenty-eight years; you’ve never stayed with someone for more than a night. I’ve stayed with B the whole time. I’m happy. I’ve never had this before, a lover who’s also my friend. We never had that! Dru, Buffy…cor, just to finish the list Harm, never had that really, no matter how much I may have wanted it. Angelus was maybe the closest I ever got and fuck if that can ever be considered healthy!” Spike was practically shaking with anger now. He sometimes begged Bartleby to try to get a read in on Angel; he couldn’t help worrying. Bartleby usually tried to put him off it because the problem was he could only see the world through the eyes of humans, and Angel only seemed to get together with humans with one purpose in mind nowadays.
“Think whatever you bloodly well want, but in the end Bartleby is nothing like you, and what he and I share is nothing like what you and I had!” Spike looked at Angel with malice in his eyes.
“You might not understand why you came here Angel, but I get it, and I would never go back to being your fuck toy.”
Angel didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he met with Spike again, but this was not it. This was not it at all.
“Um,” Angel swallowed back the pain creeping through his body. “You should call Buffy. And Dawn. They’re really worried. They’ll be glad -” Another swallow. “They’ll be glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah.” Spike didn’t want to see Angel like this. “I’ll do that.”
“Um, how’s Milwaukee?”
Spike smiled a little. Angel was worse at small talk than anyone else Spike had ever encountered.
“It’s a bit of alright. Not my usual type of city, but it’s nice.”
Angel then did one of the more difficult things he had ever done.
“So, you must be Bartleby.” He walked over to the figure by the door and held out his hand. He was extremely irritated to realize that he had to look up a little in order to meet the angel’s eyes. “I’m Angel.”
Bartleby gamely shook his hand, though they both squeezed a little harder than strictly necessary.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Bartleby managed.
Spike noticed that Bartleby, although he was trying to appear intimidating to Angel, was starting to sway a little bit.
Fuck! ‘e doesn’t have enough blood yet!
He hurried over and brought one of Bartleby’s arms over his shoulders.
“Hey Angel, Wings ‘ere is recovering a bit. Tough night. So…”
“Oh, yeah, um, could we, talk?” Angel couldn’t just go back to San Francisco without making sure Spike was okay. That they could somehow be okay. “I was going to find a motel anyway and we could, I don’t know, get a drink or you could show me what there is to do around here. I mean, Milwaukee, it’s got to have something to make you want to stay.” Angel gave a little bit of a sickly smile because he realized that it was more that it had someone to make him want to stay.
“Sure, I’d like that.” Spike was leading Bartleby to the bed. Angel saw the bizarre wings that looked freshly-plucked. He gave a questioning look at Spike who gave a barely-discernible shake of his head.
Fine, Angel thought, I’ll play nice. He looked again and gave a little Angelus-esque grin. But I always thought angels were a little prettier.
“I’ll come by tomorrow night?"
“Sounds fine. See you then, mate.” Spike gave him a quick smile.
“It was good to meet you, Bartleby.” Angel forced.
Bartleby managed to turn his head and focus his eyes.
“Likewise, Angel.”
Angel nodded and strode out as quickly as he could before he had to watch Spike helping Bartleby into bed.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
“I told you that you did that all wrong.” Metatron droned at Loki who just rolled his eyes.
“Voice, here’s the thing: you told me what not to do, but gave absolutely no help in terms of what to do. So please stop bitching.”
“Your vulgarity is charming, as usual.” Metatron poured himself another shot of tequila. He made Loki keep it stocked if he wanted any assistance.
Loki shrugged.
“I aim to please.”
“So what’s your plan now?” He poured the tequila into his mouth, swished it around for a while, and then spit it back into the shot glass. “As far as I can see, you’ve had more than thirty years to try this, but you were too busy seeing what felt best around your dick and up your arse.”
“Aw, do I sense a little jealousy?” Loki gave Metatron’s cheek a little pinch and then chuckled at the Voice’s withering look.
“Not particularly. I’m still welcome into heaven.”
“Fuck man, hit me where it hurts!” Loki took a swig of tequila straight from the bottle and then spit it into his glass. “That was uncalled for.”
“Perhaps.” The upper-crust English accent only accentuated Metatron’s disinterest.
“So, are you actually going to help me now?”
“You need to talk to him. All of this plotting will not make Bartleby happy.”
“Man, you’re making me sound like a teenage girl.” Loki angrily picked at the label on the almost-empty bottle.
“Now Loki.” Metatron waited until Loki’s eyes met his. “That would be an insult to teenage girls.”
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Angel stared up at the peeling motel-room ceiling.
So we’re having a drink. We’re going to catch up, and then I’m going to go back to California and Spike will stay here. Angel couldn’t believe he was tearing up at this.
It’s just the relief, Angel reasoned. You didn’t know for a long time whether he was okay and now it’s just the relief. That first night you, you didn’t know what to think.
That night played in his head constantly. What had gone wrong? Angel knew it must have had to do with Buffy’s visit, but it didn’t make sense because Spike had loved him, and then suddenly that night he was just gone.
Angel woke up and could taste Spike on his lips, which was strange, because he should have been able to taste Buffy still.
Did Spike really try to taste Buffy from me? Even for Spike and his flair for the melodramatic, it was a little extreme.
Angel actually felt a little bad. He had been distancing himself from Spike recently, and it wasn’t fair to the other vampire. It was only because Buffy had been there, and that was just always a bit of an event. But still, Spike probably felt like he was being pushed to the side.
He was being pushed to the side, an irritating voice whispered to Angel. See if he even lets you back in the bedroom.
Alright, Angel was ready for apologies. He wasn’t great at them, but he could do them when necessary. He knocked on Spike’s door and wasn’t particularly surprised when there was no answer; Spike was a pretty heavy sleeper. He was surprised, however, to open the door and see that the bed was empty. Empty and made. Spike never made the bed.
“Spike?” Angel asked a little stupidly, as the room was clearly empty.
A fear rising in his chest, he went over to the dresser. Only a few items were left, and only the ones that Spike had called ‘bloody awful’. His cigarettes and lighter weren’t on the side table, his papers weren’t under the mattress and his duster wasn’t in the closet.
Angel all but ran to the safe in one of the kitchen cabinets where they kept the money. Just as he had suspected but hoped not to find, a large chunk of it was gone.
He left. Angel realized miserably. He tried to somehow reason that this was all a set-up and that he had actually been taken, but it was all just too Spike. He left.
The next day and night were a blur of calls to all the Scoobies and anyone else he could think Spike might have been in contact, a desperate search through the city at dark, and a fruitless exercise in which he tried to feel the draw of Spike’s blood.
Finally he had to face it: Spike had left. Not dusted, since for better or worse he would have felt that. He was just gone of his own volition. He had kissed Angel and gathered his things and left and -
Angel ran to the bathroom and suddenly began vomiting into the sink. Spike was gone. Spike left him. His shaky hand threw a surprising accurate punch and shattered the mirror. Standing over the sink full of mirror shards and vomited blood, Angel began to cry.
It hurt to see Spike with that angel, but it was better than not knowing, Angel conceded. They could have drinks and talk, and maybe they could work something out. Maybe they could start calling each other or Angel could try using the Internet.
And then maybe they could be friends.
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: Hi guys! The scene
dreamsofspangel wanted to see is in this chapter. I hope it works for you sweets :) Again, please let me know if there's something you'd like to see from the past or just are curious about and I'll try to get it in. Thank you so much for reading and for your comments!
Chapter 4
Angel.
For a moment, they just stood there, staring at each other as though they were trying to see if the other was real. Spike apparently came to the conclusion that Angel was not and began to slowly push the door closed, as though this would make the worrisome image disappear.
Just as slowly, Angel stopped the door’s progress and Spike looked up to his eyes, now unable to doubt his appearance. Spike stood waiting, and Angel knew that he had to speak first as he was the one who precipitated this meeting. He knew that whatever he said could determine whether this encounter went well or not.
“Do you have any idea how worried Buffy’s been?”
As usual, Angel stuck his foot in it.
Spike’s open face suddenly closed down as his eyes narrowed to cutting blue slits and his mouth to a thin, tense line.
“Yeah, mate?” he all but spit. “’Pologize for me, will ya? It wasn’t ‘er I was trying to get away from!”
He then began to push the door closed with a lot more intent than before. Angel, realizing that all of his chances (of what he was still not exactly sure) were about to be sealed away by that door, stuck his hand in the quickly narrowing crack between the door and the frame.
“Damn it, Spike! We have to talk about this! I spent a day in a bathroom stall for you! Don’t close the door!”
Angel was able to wrench it open and then swiftly stepped inside. Spike stepped back and looked at him with his hands crossed over his chest.
“What do we have to talk about, Angel?” It wasn’t said with particular malice, just with a clear distrust.
“You disappeared!” Angel did not understand why Spike was so angry with him. He was the one with the right to be angry, damn it! “I woke up and you’re gone and I had no idea what you were doing. You can’t just leave people without a word like that!”
Spike gave a cutting laugh.
“Wot can I say? Learned from the best.”
“That was different, Spike! You can’t compare your time-of-the-month mood swing with having to deal with a new soul!”
“Oi! This is not your house. You want to insult me? You’ve got the effing address now, write me a bloody letter!” Spike was now holding his hands in fists at his sides and was approaching Angel slowly.
“I didn’t come here to fight you, Spike.” Angel growled, standing his ground.
“Then what’d you come for?” Spike snapped.
“I - I don’t know.” Angel looked down, his righteous anger deflated in the face of the question that he still could not figure out.
“I was worried too, it wasn’t just Buffy -- ” Suddenly, Spike’s previous comment about Buffy sunk in.
“Wait, you said you weren’t trying to get away from Buf-was it me you were trying to get away from, Will?” Angel was speaking gently now and his voice wavered with hurt.
“It’s Spike, mate.” Spike said equally gently, wanting to make this as painless as possible. Angel wasn’t sure why he was there, but Spike sure as hell had a guess. And now that he knew what a happy and equal relationship was, there was no way he would go back to that.
“What?” Angel’s voice sounded suspiciously raspy.
“I’m not your Will anymore. You can’t start calling me that again now.”
“What do you mean - Wi-I mean, Spike -”
And then Angel started to take in the apartment and everything began to piece together. It was neat. Far too neat for it to be Spike’s alone.
“Do you have a maid?” Angel asked hopefully. He began to walk quickly into the apartment, hoping that his suspicions would be proved wrong.
“Wot? Uh, no.” Spike didn’t understand what Angel was getting at. “Oi!” He shouted as Angel opened the door to the bedroom and he grabbed Angel’s arm.
“Didn’t even invite you! Don’t go looking around wherever you want! No maid hog-tied in there, promise. We don’t have the dosh for that.”
Spike’s words replayed in his head as Angel’s face snapped down to his.
Bugger. Spike’s eyes widened. He had not meant to break it to Angel like that. Angel yanked his arm away and stepped inside the bedroom to reveal an unmade double bed.
“We?” Angel’s voice was shaking; Spike couldn’t tell with what. “You think that you deserve to be a part of a ‘we’? What poor girl have you tricked into this?”
“You arsehole! I don’t trick anyone! But you! Dru, Buffy, hell, I’m going to throw in Tits as well, ‘cause fuck knows none of them knew the real you until it was too late!” Spike was ready for this fight to happen. He’d been ready for this fight for a long time.
“You’re saying you found someone who wants you, Spike? Who gets who you are, what you are, what you’ve done?” Angel knew, knew, these were low blows, playing off of Spike’s worst fears.
Spike roared as his face shifted and he was about to leap forward when suddenly he felt a familiar hand on his shoulder.
“Yes.” Said Bartleby’s calming voice, though the threat in his unwavering gaze on Angel was clear. “Yes, he has.”
“Who are you?” Angel growled and then gave a nod towards Spike, whose demon face had slowly dropped away. “Do you know what he is?”
“I’m his.” Bartleby stated evenly as he brought his hand down from Spike’s shoulder so that he could wrap his arm around Spike’s waist. “And I think I know him better than you ever have.”
Angel looked with a kind of horror-struck fascination at the stranger.
Spike has a human lover? A human male lover? Has he - I was the only one who had ever -
He couldn’t understand how this hurt worse than Buffy moving on. He and Spike had not been in a relationship. Oh, Angelus’ crazed rage for his childe that he could feel building up, that he could understand. But this? This was different.
And this asshole didn’t even fear him! Angel didn’t smell fear, or sweat, or -
Blood. I can’t smell his blood.
“Loki sent you here, didn’t he?” the stranger asked knowingly.
“Loki? Um, yes, but -” Angel started to piece together what he was sensing. No blood. No heartbeat. Warmth.
“You’re an angel.”
Bartleby nodded and Angel burst out into a dangerous laughter.
“Really Spike? Really? You leave me and go to a tall, dark, ANGEL? And you were just trying to tell me that I need to get over you?”
“Yes arsewipe, because I’m the one that did move on!” Spike shouted back, moving towards Angel. Bartleby stayed where he was. He wanted to provide support, but he knew that Spike would want to deal with this on his own. Treating Spike like a damsel in distress? Never a good idea.
“What do you do, Angel? It’s been twenty-eight years; you’ve never stayed with someone for more than a night. I’ve stayed with B the whole time. I’m happy. I’ve never had this before, a lover who’s also my friend. We never had that! Dru, Buffy…cor, just to finish the list Harm, never had that really, no matter how much I may have wanted it. Angelus was maybe the closest I ever got and fuck if that can ever be considered healthy!” Spike was practically shaking with anger now. He sometimes begged Bartleby to try to get a read in on Angel; he couldn’t help worrying. Bartleby usually tried to put him off it because the problem was he could only see the world through the eyes of humans, and Angel only seemed to get together with humans with one purpose in mind nowadays.
“Think whatever you bloodly well want, but in the end Bartleby is nothing like you, and what he and I share is nothing like what you and I had!” Spike looked at Angel with malice in his eyes.
“You might not understand why you came here Angel, but I get it, and I would never go back to being your fuck toy.”
Angel didn’t know what to say. He wasn’t sure what to expect when he met with Spike again, but this was not it. This was not it at all.
“Um,” Angel swallowed back the pain creeping through his body. “You should call Buffy. And Dawn. They’re really worried. They’ll be glad -” Another swallow. “They’ll be glad you’re okay.”
“Yeah.” Spike didn’t want to see Angel like this. “I’ll do that.”
“Um, how’s Milwaukee?”
Spike smiled a little. Angel was worse at small talk than anyone else Spike had ever encountered.
“It’s a bit of alright. Not my usual type of city, but it’s nice.”
Angel then did one of the more difficult things he had ever done.
“So, you must be Bartleby.” He walked over to the figure by the door and held out his hand. He was extremely irritated to realize that he had to look up a little in order to meet the angel’s eyes. “I’m Angel.”
Bartleby gamely shook his hand, though they both squeezed a little harder than strictly necessary.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Bartleby managed.
Spike noticed that Bartleby, although he was trying to appear intimidating to Angel, was starting to sway a little bit.
Fuck! ‘e doesn’t have enough blood yet!
He hurried over and brought one of Bartleby’s arms over his shoulders.
“Hey Angel, Wings ‘ere is recovering a bit. Tough night. So…”
“Oh, yeah, um, could we, talk?” Angel couldn’t just go back to San Francisco without making sure Spike was okay. That they could somehow be okay. “I was going to find a motel anyway and we could, I don’t know, get a drink or you could show me what there is to do around here. I mean, Milwaukee, it’s got to have something to make you want to stay.” Angel gave a little bit of a sickly smile because he realized that it was more that it had someone to make him want to stay.
“Sure, I’d like that.” Spike was leading Bartleby to the bed. Angel saw the bizarre wings that looked freshly-plucked. He gave a questioning look at Spike who gave a barely-discernible shake of his head.
Fine, Angel thought, I’ll play nice. He looked again and gave a little Angelus-esque grin. But I always thought angels were a little prettier.
“I’ll come by tomorrow night?"
“Sounds fine. See you then, mate.” Spike gave him a quick smile.
“It was good to meet you, Bartleby.” Angel forced.
Bartleby managed to turn his head and focus his eyes.
“Likewise, Angel.”
Angel nodded and strode out as quickly as he could before he had to watch Spike helping Bartleby into bed.
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
“I told you that you did that all wrong.” Metatron droned at Loki who just rolled his eyes.
“Voice, here’s the thing: you told me what not to do, but gave absolutely no help in terms of what to do. So please stop bitching.”
“Your vulgarity is charming, as usual.” Metatron poured himself another shot of tequila. He made Loki keep it stocked if he wanted any assistance.
Loki shrugged.
“I aim to please.”
“So what’s your plan now?” He poured the tequila into his mouth, swished it around for a while, and then spit it back into the shot glass. “As far as I can see, you’ve had more than thirty years to try this, but you were too busy seeing what felt best around your dick and up your arse.”
“Aw, do I sense a little jealousy?” Loki gave Metatron’s cheek a little pinch and then chuckled at the Voice’s withering look.
“Not particularly. I’m still welcome into heaven.”
“Fuck man, hit me where it hurts!” Loki took a swig of tequila straight from the bottle and then spit it into his glass. “That was uncalled for.”
“Perhaps.” The upper-crust English accent only accentuated Metatron’s disinterest.
“So, are you actually going to help me now?”
“You need to talk to him. All of this plotting will not make Bartleby happy.”
“Man, you’re making me sound like a teenage girl.” Loki angrily picked at the label on the almost-empty bottle.
“Now Loki.” Metatron waited until Loki’s eyes met his. “That would be an insult to teenage girls.”
~ + ~ + ~ + ~+ ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~ + ~
Angel stared up at the peeling motel-room ceiling.
So we’re having a drink. We’re going to catch up, and then I’m going to go back to California and Spike will stay here. Angel couldn’t believe he was tearing up at this.
It’s just the relief, Angel reasoned. You didn’t know for a long time whether he was okay and now it’s just the relief. That first night you, you didn’t know what to think.
That night played in his head constantly. What had gone wrong? Angel knew it must have had to do with Buffy’s visit, but it didn’t make sense because Spike had loved him, and then suddenly that night he was just gone.
Angel woke up and could taste Spike on his lips, which was strange, because he should have been able to taste Buffy still.
Did Spike really try to taste Buffy from me? Even for Spike and his flair for the melodramatic, it was a little extreme.
Angel actually felt a little bad. He had been distancing himself from Spike recently, and it wasn’t fair to the other vampire. It was only because Buffy had been there, and that was just always a bit of an event. But still, Spike probably felt like he was being pushed to the side.
He was being pushed to the side, an irritating voice whispered to Angel. See if he even lets you back in the bedroom.
Alright, Angel was ready for apologies. He wasn’t great at them, but he could do them when necessary. He knocked on Spike’s door and wasn’t particularly surprised when there was no answer; Spike was a pretty heavy sleeper. He was surprised, however, to open the door and see that the bed was empty. Empty and made. Spike never made the bed.
“Spike?” Angel asked a little stupidly, as the room was clearly empty.
A fear rising in his chest, he went over to the dresser. Only a few items were left, and only the ones that Spike had called ‘bloody awful’. His cigarettes and lighter weren’t on the side table, his papers weren’t under the mattress and his duster wasn’t in the closet.
Angel all but ran to the safe in one of the kitchen cabinets where they kept the money. Just as he had suspected but hoped not to find, a large chunk of it was gone.
He left. Angel realized miserably. He tried to somehow reason that this was all a set-up and that he had actually been taken, but it was all just too Spike. He left.
The next day and night were a blur of calls to all the Scoobies and anyone else he could think Spike might have been in contact, a desperate search through the city at dark, and a fruitless exercise in which he tried to feel the draw of Spike’s blood.
Finally he had to face it: Spike had left. Not dusted, since for better or worse he would have felt that. He was just gone of his own volition. He had kissed Angel and gathered his things and left and -
Angel ran to the bathroom and suddenly began vomiting into the sink. Spike was gone. Spike left him. His shaky hand threw a surprising accurate punch and shattered the mirror. Standing over the sink full of mirror shards and vomited blood, Angel began to cry.
It hurt to see Spike with that angel, but it was better than not knowing, Angel conceded. They could have drinks and talk, and maybe they could work something out. Maybe they could start calling each other or Angel could try using the Internet.
And then maybe they could be friends.