Fic: Sleeping with Ghosts 2/2
Nov. 5th, 2006 03:03 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
viciouswishesTitle: Sleeping with Ghosts
Author: viciouswishes
For: romanyg
Beta: gentle_thorns
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Setting: Post-"Not Fade Away"
Words: 15,500
Summary: His braces are indeed worthy of Cuchulain. Part 1/2
Angel heard about the centering crystal and the witch long before he needed it. When Darla came back and the Swami failed, Lorne suggested it as an alternative to finding his path. Another plea that shattered like glass. It was too much work to find the crystal then, even if the witch’s burial ground was down the street from Caritas.
It meant Angel had to go back to L.A. and to face the destruction of the city. When they stayed in Vegas on their never ending inch north, he decided it was time to knock a few heads together.
Thankfully, the demon bar hadn't moved and the secret passwords to the backrooms were still the same. He didn't consider telling Spike where he was going until confronted by two large Fyarl bouncers, guarding a game of poker. Spike would've helped.
The first one was easy to kill. "I'm looking for this crystal," Angel said. "But since I don't speak Fyarl, you can't help me." He stabbed it with a silver dagger he carried under his belt. Luckily, Fyarls didn't bleed a lot as he finally had clothing that fit and was his.
However, the second one proved to be a little stubborn. It punched Angel, sending him crashing against the wall. The poker players continued undisturbed.
Angel shook the plaster from his hair and vamped. "Now you've made me angry."
The Fyarl growled and charged at him again. This time, Angel punched it in the face, distracting it long enough to make the kill.
Angel looked over at the poker table. "Now that I'm done with guards, are you guys going to put up a fight?"
"I believe we're already dead so fighting's not important, and we're very much women, thank you," said a blonde who upped the bet on the table. "In fact, you are very much the cause of our deaths. Not necessarily literally, but by the twists of your fate with ours."
"Literally from me. You did take the final drink for some," said the woman, matching the other's bet. She leaned forward into the light. A lilac scarf dangled onto the table.
It figured that Lilah Morgan survived Wolfram & Hart's destruction and was set to taunt him. "Where's the crystal, Lilah?" Angel growled. He thought about seeing how fast her head popped off.
"Such animals." A woman leaned forward with blood splattered on the side of her face. "You probably don't even recognize me. You did let those vampires ravage my home."
"Estelle Manners," Lilah introduced her. She pointed to the other players. "That's Tina and, of course, you know Eve. What can I say, we needed a fourth player."
All of them were his failures, one way or another. Sure both Lilah and Eve had sold their souls to Wolfram & Hart, but Angel had been the one to sign their deaths. Not that anyone who died stayed that way anymore.
"Tell me, Lilah, what do I have to do to make you give me the crystal?" Angel asked. He wasn't' in the mood for another one of Lilah's games.
Lilah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, nothing. There was this prophecy and well, it's all yours."
"Though you'll have to take a trip," Estelle said and the others nodded.
*****
"So where's this magical mojo swami mage with his hootzits and whatzits that are going to cure your brooding?" Spike stood next to the dresser; his elbow rested on top of it.
"She." Angel frantically pulled out their clothing and tossed it into the suitcase that sat on the floor. "She's not going to..." Explaining things to Spike seemed to be the low point of his unlife and frankly, he was a little tired of trying. He'd already gotten what he needed with the relative ease of cracking of few skulls and dealing with only one shopkeeper. "She's going to set me back on my mission."
"Ah, yes, the great unending mission for redemption. So they can make you a real boy, even though you bloody signed it away. And, oh yeah, all your friends died trying to get you there." Spike grabbed a navy blue t-shirt before it fell in the growing mound of clothing and pulled it over his head. "And no, I don't count. I'm not your friend."
"Good to know," Angel muttered, zipping up the overstuffed and lumpy suitcase. He needed to clear his head. Pausing for a moment, he looked up at Spike. "Spike, we're two vampires with souls. The only two. We're cham-"
"No, don't fucking say it. I burned up once and that was for a girl. Sure I'm kind of fond of this place and don't care to see Armageddon coming down the road, but I'm not you."
"Then you don't have to come." Angel slung the suitcase strap over his shoulder and grabbed the cooler in one hand and his sword in another. Without glancing at Spike, he headed out the door.
"Jesus Christ. Angel!"
Angel shut the Volvo's trunk. He'd bought it with the money he'd taken from Spike's pockets. The money that he didn't even want to know where or how Spike came upon it. Climbing in the car, he turned it on and grimaced as some god-awful punk band's music blared. The passenger side door slammed closed loudly as Angel turned down the music.
"You took my clothes and my money! It's always your way, isn't it? Take anything you want from Spike, doesn't matter his feelings because it's all yours." There was blessed silence for a moment. "You realize that this car is old and build like a tank, not penis-shaped like the last twenty?"
"It was all I could afford." Angel could hear the protest rising again in Spike's throat. "All you could afford." He looked behind him as he backed up and pulled out of the motel parking lot. "Besides, anything cool at this price would mean hours of rebuilding labor."
"Because we aren't going to live forever. Have all the time in the world, you stupid pounce." Spike kicked his feet up on the dashboard. "Now let's see just how fast this baby goes." He leaned over in front of the dash, causing Angel to push him away. "Peg her at 85."
As Angel pulled onto the highway, which he hoped led to the interstate that would take them back to Death Valley, he wished he would've brought duct tape. Five hours on the road with Spike, he could do it, and it'd still be dark when they arrived. He'd spent days in the past traveling by horseback. Of course, knocking Spike out never made him feel guilty when he was evil.
"Silent treatment all the way it is." Spike took his lighter from his pocket and began to light it again and again. "Maybe I'll just take a nap."
"Maybe you should." Angel's hands gripped the steering wheel in frustration. Why he couldn't tell Spike to fuck off once and for all, he didn't know.
"Isn't Death Valley that way?" Spike pointed to the road sign. "This way's practically going to end up with us in downtown L.A."
"What do you think L.A. is now, Spike? Don't you ever watch anything besides porn?" Angel felt his foot starting to crush the gas peddle and eased off.
"Yeah, sometimes I watch I Love the 70s just to be reminded that at one point you actually had worse hair."
Angel turned toward Spike. "If you don't give me that lighter, I'm going to rip your hand off." He reached over to grab the lighter from Spike, who pulled it closer to the window. His hand batted toward Spike's.
Spike laughed as a horn sounded. "Better watch the road, precious."
Looking back at the road, Angel noticed that they'd drifted into the other lane, into on-coming traffic. Jerking the steering wheel, he turned them back toward their own lane; the tires of the Volvo screeched in response.
Spike continued to laugh. "What a hunk of metal. The Lamborghini'd've done that without the give."
"Was that how you sunk my Lamborghini in the bay," Angel growled. His instinct was to throttle Spike, but instead he concentrated on driving.
"Not your Lamborghini anymore. Not your Viper or Enzo or Porsche. Not your helicopter or your jet. No fancy glass for you." Spike slipped his lighter back into his pocket. "Could write a song about it and sell it to Nashville. Of course, you had Lorne kill the cowboy, didn't you?"
Flooring the Volvo, Angel attempted to speed passed a motorhome on an uphill stretch. His Viper would've whipped around it in five seconds. "Lindsey couldn't sing anyway."
"That's not what Wesley said."
Angel looked at his clock and started repeating his mantra that he wouldn't stake Spike as they continued to drive down the freeway. He sighed and settled on ignoring Spike and watching the scenery.
"Los Angeles 60 miles. 59.9 miles. 59.8 miles," Spike counted.
"Shut up, Spike. Stop counting the fucking mile markers." Angel wished, not for the first time, that they were already there.
"Hey, it's not my fault you won't play alphabet games with me." Spike flicked the ashes from his cigarette out the window. "Or tell me exactly what you stole from those demons last night. All that slime, they had to have something good."
Angel's hand banged down on the top of the dash. "A crystal. Happy, Spike? A crystal that could probably fit inside even your small hands." He pulled the crystal out of a small black pouch hidden in the dash.
Spike frowned. "So what's the special thing this crystal's got? It's obviously something. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone to all that trouble. Unless it stores a Senior Partner, and then you'd destroy a whole metropolis."
Angel took a deep breath. "No, it'll call the witch that we're looking for."
"One you're looking for," Spike corrected him. "Oh, look the Green Dome. They had excellent blooming onions and imported beer straight from England. Bloody brilliant."
"You drove an hour out of L.A. to sit in a dive bar?" Shaking his head, Angel took the next exit. He tired to ignore the desolation on the road. The closer they came to the Los Angeles, the worse it got. People lived on the outskirts, but not in the center; as if the ghost of Wolfram & Hart lingered and drove out everything living, everything green and growing, away. Or maybe it was the land cleansing itself. But every broken road sign and crumbled building reminded him of dead family, friends, and lovers.
Angel continued driving over what was once road and now covered with dirt. Dirt flowed like water, tons of it drenching the formerly proud and busy city.
"Best L.A. traffic ever." Spike tapped his hand on the door in beat with the music. The music they'd fought for an hour or more over. "And possibly the best thing you ever did for this city."
"We took out Wolfram & Hart and their minions, Spike." Angel veered off to the side of the road and parked the Volvo.
"The L.A. branch." Spike kicked his feet down from their place on the dash. "You forgot their Seattle and Atlanta ones or London and Rome. You remember Rome, right? C.E.O. with gigantic tits that could swallow even your forehead. Evil's still afoot."
"And that's why we're here." Making sure the pouch was secure in his coat, Angel got out of car and moved to the trunk to find his sword. He'd had bad experiences with swami impersonators in the past and wasn't going to let another ten feet away from him without a weapon.
The desert surrounded them, wide and far. The desert was not the place to be for two vampires, even if there were nearby abandoned buildings. "You really don't get sarcasm, do you?" Spike drug his feet through the dirt, dust flying through the air. "I think Dodger Stadium was here."
"Mother Earth ate the land," Angel muttered. He held the crystal in his hand, fingers threatening to crush it. He thought he saw the skeleton of a dragon in front of him. There hadn't been just one; there had been hundreds, swarming the sky like giant locusts.
The earth quaked below their feet. "Great, now look what you've done." Spike pointed to the knee-high pyramid shape that had appeared between them. "Probably filled with snakes or something else nasty."
The crystal in Angel's hand started to glow and felt hot against his skin. "Spike, we're not Indiana Jones."
"That's just because you'd fight me over the starring role." Spike joined Angel on the other side of the object, and Angel watched the other vampire's arm muscles tense up as Spike adjusted his grip around an axe.
"Shit." Angel dropped the crystal from his hand and looked down at his newly scalded flesh. Bending over, he went to retrieve the crystal from the dirt, attempting to balance it on his sword.
Spike shook his head. "Oh for fuck's sake." He snatched the crystal out from under Angel's fingers, growling at the contact. "Did you not see the gaping hole on the side of this thing?" He placed the crystal inside the indent.
A brilliant light flashed, temporarily blinding Angel.
*****
When Angel regained his vision, the first thing he noticed was that his sword was missing from his hand. And the second thing was woman sitting by a brightly glowing fire. A smile appeared on her dark face. She was younger than he expected. "Welcome, Champion," she said.
Angel hoped she was Toypurina the Witch, the one who was said to guide heroes back on their paths. He'd had enough with false prophets and gods for all his lifetimes.
"Only in the corporeal world," Toypurina answered as if reading his mind. "I am many more things here. You see what this land can give. Champion, come sit by my fire. But your protector must stay out of the circle."
"He's not my protector." Angel didn't mean to snap at the witch, but he could definitely watch his own back.
"Yeah, what he said. Besides I saved the bloody world and I've got a soul." Spike also seemed dazed without his weapon.
Toypurina lifted up her hand to silence Spike. "Young protector, you've not earned your right. Do not test me."
"How's Angel going to stay safe without me? From what he's told me, you Powers That Bugger You Without Lube are so very trustworthy," Spike said. He never did know how to shut up.
"Shut up, Spike." Angel started moving toward the fire. His suspicions were somehow eased by Toypurina's chastising of Spike or at least, Spike's tongue. Angel would never admit that Spike's gut was often right, despite his sometimes divided loyalties.
"The young protector's correct. She whose name holds power slipped passed us. We will not be held up again. People may enslave each other, but a Power should not. Our Champion of Angels has passed."
Angel's eyes widened. He felt like giving Toypurina a thank you or a slap in the face for giving him a half-apology. Angel didn't think of Cordelia and how she held the sword until her death.
When he looked back toward Spike, Angel couldn't find him. No doubt, Toypurina had cloaked him with her magics. Spike had come this far; he was unlikely to just leave and really, where would he go.
Toypurina ignored Angel's questions about Spike's disappearance. "Sit and take my hand." She waited for Angel to comply before turning to stare into the fire.
Angel swore that the fire was growing. It reached toward the night sky, connecting the stars in the sky. His vampire eyes couldn't adjust to the bright and he closed them.
When he opened them again, Angel looked over at Toypurina. Only she was no longer there, instead Cordelia held his hand and they were standing in the middle of the Hyperion lobby. "Cordelia?"
"The one and the only," Cordelia said, smiling. She turned and wrapped her arms around him. Even here she felt luxuriously warm. "God, I'm so glad that you didn't die." She unwrapped from his arms and hit him on the shoulder. Apparently, her strength hadn't lessoned since her death. "Seriously, where was your strategy, general? Huh? Why didn't you call for an army of Slayers, not like you don't know one or two and their pretty powerful witch friend."
Angel winced and rubbed his arm. Cordelia's words still stung more than her strike. He looked down at the floor and frowned.
Cordelia shook her head. "You never change. Anyway, I'm here for the non-cryptic part of your journey. Well, they wanted me to do this whole act with doves and my eyes turning, but been there, done that. And every Tom, Dick, and Jane that has PTB favor points uses them."
"You're bored, aren't you?" Angel noticed that she was a little too excited to see him, a little too twitchy. She should be madder at him, should've hit him harder, or cursed at him.
"Heaven's heaven. You have to create your own fun."
Angel stepped away from her. He couldn't forget that they weren't in the Hyperion. That this place was something Toypurina created. "There's something you're supposed to tell me?"
"Yes, you lughead," Cordelia said. "I'm supposed to tell you that the Powers are sending you another seer. After the whole 'Jasmine' issue, they'll be monitoring their heroes a little more closely. Think airport security without the wandering hands. Also the new seer's already partially demon so no worries about exploding brains."
Angel crossed his arms. He didn't like the idea of the PTB imposing another player on him. "Does the new seer have a name, gender, species?"
"Now that would give it away." She winked at him. "However, the seer has yet to be called, so you're getting a temporary solution." Cordelia caught his eye. He swore he saw the sadness, the longing, he'd missed that the first time she'd come back, before the nurse's phone call that informed him she was dead.
"I miss you, Cordy." Angel's words felt hollow as he said them.
"I know, but I better not see your souled ass here anytime soon," Cordelia said. She had tears on the corners on her eyes that he wanted to kiss away.
So he did. Angel pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Thought of nothing else besides her lips against his. When she disappeared from his arms, Angel found himself still at the fire and still holding Toypurina's hand. "Keep teasing me with Cordelia and I'm going to start thinking that she's really coming back."
Toypurina's skin seemed to be glowing and almost moving. She seemed more alive than anyone he'd touched in years, since holding an infant Connor in his arms. "All life is cyclical, unless you become stuck, Champion."
"Like a vampire," Angel muttered.
"Yes. But one day your soul will come unhinged from its body."
"The Shanshu." Angel's response was automatic, trained for his time with Wesley and Cordelia. From the summer, they killed every demon in every vision, destroyed the evil from the land in a way that reminded Angel of the Biblical teachings of his youth.
"Or death. Death eventually finds us all, no matter how immortal we may seem."
Angel once thought that he knew death. Anymore he wasn't so sure. "So what's the game?"
"Game?" Toypurina tilted her head in a way that made Angel think of Spike. "There is no such thing. Only war. Only struggle. And people like you who fight the remaining demons."
"You don't by chance have any charts I can see on how that fight's going, do you?"
"You have spent too much time in the bowels of your enemies," Toypurina said. She frowned, her brows creasing together. Her hand tugged from his.
"Thought we were fighting for the same team?" Angel placed one hand on the ground and pushed himself up. The fire had started to feel too warm.
"We are. And while we applaud your destruction of the one the humans called Jasmine, you lost yourself in the protection of The Destroyer." Toypurina's stare never wavered from Angel.
"Connor," Angel said, "his name's Connor, and he's my son."
"While we don't deny that connections to the world will keep you on your path, The Destroy has his own destiny, separate from yours."
"Let's hope it includes fat grandchildren."
"You must go on." Toypurina pulled a small dark sack from her waist and held it out for Angel. "Inside this pouch are three momoy seeds. With the power of each one, you will be led closer to your seer."
Angel "And how do I know that the visions aren't going to be hijacked by some former Power set to destroy my life?"
"I have already given you my word. Our past neglect was our error and we seek to stop future abuse. But do not anger us, Champion. Do not knock the world off its balance."
The bright light flashed in front of Angel's eyes once more.
*****
They settled into a place that Angel knew would be safe from demons and other beings with evil intentions: Wesley's old apartment. They found the doors aligned with the same marks as Lindsey's apartment, the only thing that lacked was the vampire barrier. Angel sighed and crossed the threshold.
"You're not going to go through with this." Spike was surveying Wesley's liquor collection. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch as old as Spike himself. "No, wait you will. Once a sucker, always a sucker."
"Talking about yourself again," Angel said. He went toward the refrigerator. He knew there would be blood, but he doubted it would be fresh. Angel promptly closed the fridge at one glance of the congealed fluid.
"Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Spike drank straight from the bottle. He'd never learned to use a glass.
Angel shook his head. "We're going to set things right." He sat on the couch, his hand still in his pocket and rolling the pouch between his fingers. He needed to do this. Just get it over with. He knew a test when he saw one. "I'm going to do this."
"Not like you're ever cared a bit about what I thought. Look how your last brilliant plan turned out." Spike's hand waved toward the window where the desolation of L.A. laid out before them.
Angel took the pouch out and tossed it around from hand-to-hand. "It was flawed."
"This is insane." Spike took a large swallow from the bottle. He offered it to Angel.
Taking it, Angel looked around the room. They shouldn't be here. It was wrong. Wesley, the Wesley with all his memories, wouldn't want Angel here. They'd move tomorrow.
"What the hell." Angel swallowed the first momoy seed and promptly passed out.
The vision came like a dream. A hallucination of Wesley speaking to him, reading from books in Latin. Angel's Latin was rusty. But there was no mistaking that Wesley was condemning him, condemning him to burn.
Wesley wasn't the first one and wouldn't be the last one.
Angel saw Jasmine shake her head, saw the eternal plot where she laid buried. Daughter of Connor, granddaughter of Darla. Even Angel had no place on the outskirts of heaven.
But his mission played out for him on the big screen. All he had to do was watch and memorize. Take down the pictures coming in full surround sound better than a high school cheerleader ever did.
*****
Angel felt groggy, but he had this mission. That was important. The mission itself wasn't too hard. He and Spike had to take out a nest of vampires holed up under the Sausalito side of the Golden Gate Bridge.
He'd seen the Bridge, huge above him in the vision. The signs on roads flashing with directions and places. Of course, there was the traditional blood and guts. All the things he remembered Cordelia screaming at him, all the things she later excepted with a calm demeanor that he once believed was her confidence in his abilities.
Angel looked out the window, trying to clear his head.
Spike drove most of the way and complained that they needed a stereo. Angel started to agree with him after being treated to the vocal-styling of Spike's take on Circle of Jerks. He supposed that it could've been worse; Spike could've liked light jazz.
Angel's head had cleared by the time they reached San Francisco, and the vampires they slaughtered were young and stupid. A bunch of newly sired ones trying to raise an army by feeding on the masses of homeless that had made their way north.
Angel saw every mistake he made that night mocking him in the golden eyes of his kill.
Spike tossed his sword in the trunk when they were done. "Where to next, boss?"
"I don't know," Angel said. He fingered the bag in his pocket.
"Wherever it is, I'd like a shower and some new clothes." Spike leaned up against the car and lit a cigarette. "Maybe we'll get something to cheer you up. New sword? Can't have too many of those."
*****
They kept driving north. Angel felt drugged and tired after the second seed. He figured that the PTB's new visions were more specific than those given to Cordelia. They had names, places, and cities, not relying on Angel's memory of the area or clues they'd have to search for on America's highways. Spike had made all the appropriate jokes about Angel's thick skull.
Everything was normal or heading there. Almost.
In the silence, Angel missed them. He missed Wesley with his books, Gunn with his axe, and Cordelia with her wit and strength. He missed holding a baby in his arms and looking into his son's clear blue eyes. And seeing him grown, standing there as a man that Angel didn't recognize.
They were searching for something slimy and evil. Something that carried a token on its third eye. Angel just hoped that the eye was metaphorical.
"You ever think it was going to be like this?" Spike asked from the driver's seat. Spike seemed to be asking a lot of questions lately that Angel didn't want to answer, much less think about. "Almost feels like when we used to roam the continent. Only with worse transportation."
Spike was at least half right. The car was crappy. They both knew that, especially after Angel's collection at Wolfram & Hart. But almost anything was better than watching a horse shit while yanking the reins.
Angel considered telling Spike, for the thousandth time, to shut up and drive. He felt like sleeping. He felt like crawling in himself for while. But Spike never once shut up.
"I suppose it's good that we have souls this time around," Spike continued. "I mean, the nunneries are safer."
"I doubt there are any active nunneries in the Cascade Mountain passes," Angel said. "Did you just make a nun joke?"
"Yep." Spike lit another one of his infernal cigarette. Angel was surprised that he didn't have a bottle of Jack between his legs. "If you can't beat your past, you need a sense of humor about it. Oh, wait, I forgot who I was talking to. At least, Angelus could take a joke."
Only if Angelus thought it was funny, Angel silently added. Instead, he went with his chorus of shut up.
Angel looked at the map again. They weren't too far from this Ashland place. Apparently, it was just across the Oregon border. If Spike drove a little faster, they just might make it before sunrise.
*****
"I did some research." Spike dropped a printed page from Demons, Demons, Demons on the hotel bed. "Nice dark library just off the sewers. And I only managed to frighten one child and upset one mother."
"You shouldn't look up porn in a public place," Angel said. He rubbed his hand against his forehead wondering where Spike found all this energy.
"I wasn't looking up tits, you git." Spike shoved the paper against Angel's chest. "These aren't exactly the Furbies of the demon world."
Angel rolled his eyes. "I know what they look like, Spike. Vision, remember?" This from the guy who was always telling him that he was getting rusty in his old age. Not that they were actually getting any older.
"Also got you this." Spike handed him a packet of blood. "It's cow and I warmed it already. Apparently, some people are still trying to be farmers."
"Huh." Angel ripped the corner off and drank. He'd been less hungry since visiting Toypurina, but knew that he needed the substance if they were going to kill the not-Furbies or Fuberies as Spike's computer printout read.
Spike had settled down on the bed and was flipping through the channels. He always flipped through them, never watching anything. Angel doubted Spike would even pay attention to porn if Angel let him order it.
"I'm bored," Spike said. "Wanna fuck?"
"Spike." Angel sighed. He knew that Spike wasn't going to let it go, wasn't going to stop bringing it up.
"So you can take advantage of me when I'm weak or you're in a maudlin mood, but don't want to touch me when I'm all healthy." Spike paused and lifted an eyebrow. "I can bend much better now."
Angel tossed the empty bag into the garbage. "Let it go."
Life was finally moving again and he wasn't at a stand still.
*****
Angel tried to sleep before heading out, but he hadn't done much of that recently either. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Wesley staring back at him, Wesley with a knife plunged into his gut. Angel thought about his own hands smothering Wesley with a pillow.
Before his eyes filled with sleep, he heard Connor laughing, and he jerked awake to see Spike staring back at him.
The excuse had always been that they only had one bed and could only afford the one. But Angel will never admit to liking the passion and the sorrow encapsulated in the taste of Spike's lips.
When they fucked, it wasn't the thing that story books were filled with. It was about blood and longing. About the sharp stabbing pain in Angel's chest as he thrust into Spike again and again. All the times that Angelus sunk his teeth into Spike's neck and all the times that Angel wanted to. Angel knew that Spike would some day ask him again for that.
Spike, the petulant child, who always got what he wanted in the end. Here was Angel, cock buried in Spike's ass, giving him exactly what he'd denied him earlier. Spike wore his needs, wants, and desires outlined with details on his sleeve.
And Angel gave it to him. He gave it to him out of responsibility, out of family, and out of love and hatred. Out of his own need to keep something of his close to him. Spike smelled of Buffy, of Dru, of Angel himself, and of Darla.
Angel came with groan.
*****
The last Fubery stabbed Angel in the leg. And Angel fell to the ground in pain. He didn't expect it, couldn't see it coming by his opponent's movement. He clutched his leg and watched Spike behead the Fubery.
Spike stood above him, licking his split lip. "Going to live?"
The punch line was, of course, forever. But it wasn't a joke that Angel would say on a good day, much less one where he was bleeding profusely from his leg. The joke was cruel anyway.
Angel grunted Spike wrapped his leg with a piece of his torn shirt. The wound was small but deep. He would go back to the hotel, the bleeding would stop, and his leg would heal. They would sleep as long as he needed and then they would go to their next destination. The last one.
He'd have his full mission again.
*****
Angel's leg didn't heal. And he sent Spike for another day in the Ashland Public Library, searching on Demons, Demons, Demons and Potions: Of the Mystical Variety.
His head almost felt clear. The last momoy seed weighed heavily in his pocket. But his leg had turned a blue-shade around the knife entry. Angel kept himself comforted with Jerry Orbach in the daytime and a fussing Spike in the evening. The only time, he was alone was when Spike went out patrolling. More than often, Spike came back smelling of cheap booze and with a rant about Oregon's no smoking laws.
They didn't talk about the non-healing wound.
"Sure you didn't see this is one of your visions?" Spike asked. He redressed the wound at least twice a day.
"Don't you think I would've avoided it?" Angel frowned. This was going anywhere. The wound wasn't healing and Spike was driving him nuts.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Could've avoided the whole thing," he muttered.
"Fuck you, Spike." Angel sank his head into the pillow. He didn't want to listen to any more of Spike. Not that he wanted the silence either.
Spike finished bandaging him and went for the bottle of Jack Daniel's that sat on the dresser. "Maybe you needed to be knocked down a notch."
"All my friends died. How much more knocked down can I get?" Angel regretted saying it, only because he felt it then. He felt it all. All laid up and just as helpless as he ever had been.
Their money was running out. Angel needed to take the other seed and get on. He didn't want to leave Spike - soul or not - to find their way. He had to get on with this. Angel reached for the last seed and swallowed.
It started out like looking at the back of his eyes. Bits of light raced by back and forth. Spike had gone to the library again and found that the seeds were used in ancient rituals. And they did not have the strong effect they had on Angel.
Magic. Angel let the magic move over and through him. He listened to the voice that drew him on his path. "Hello, Wesley."
"You're late." Wesley looked down at his watch. "Not that I'm currently busy."
"Got caught up." Angel pointed down to his leg. "You could've given me a heads up."
Wesley chuckled and waved for a drink. They were sitting in Caritas as it had been the first time that Wesley took him there. "I'm sure Spike's only projecting his worry." Wesley shook his head. "Really, Angel, I was trained as a Watcher and destiny... Well, you know all about that."
The Wesley in his hallucinations was always younger, less tainted than the one Angel took into that final battle. This was the one that Angel knew, that Angel trusted. Either Wesley was projecting himself like this or the PTB were trying to make him relax.
"I'll miss our talks," Wesley said. He sipped his beer.
Angel didn't respond. If Wesley was indeed all seeing, he already knew Angel's response. "What do you have today?"
"Impatient."
"You said that I already lost time." Angel's elbows were on the table as he leaned closer to Wesley. "Tell me how to heal my wound then."
Wesley sighed. The Wesley Angel knew would've given up the information. But this was not Angel's Wesley. "You have a mission, Angel. Plus, you have Spike to help you."
"Spike is not like having another limb."
"I don't know about that. Sometimes, I thought you two were attached at the hip." Wesley did watch him a little too closely for Angel's comfort. "But then again, you were probably just making up for Connor. Or was that Cordelia?" Wesley raised his eyebrow. "Buffy? Darla?"
"I get it, Wes." Angel grunted as his shifted his leg. The booth wasn't very comfortable.
"Fine." Wesley pushed his glass up on his nose. "Here is your vision. Goodbye, Angel."
Lorne's stag melted into a dark alleyway and Angel's beer into a map of Portland, Oregon. There was a large red 'x' on it. He quickly memorized it, looking for the best path from the freeway to the alleyway.
A girl stood alone. Her light blue hoodie and sweats reflected against her dark skin. She held a stake in her hand and killed a group of vampires. Angel thought that she looked a few years older than Buffy did when she was called. But there was no doubt that the girl was a Slayer.
Angel watched her battle. She didn't need his help. This Slayer even managed to answer her cellphone while staking the last one. Angel still hadn't figured out how voicemail worked.
This wasn't like the typical vision. There was no death of innocents, no blood spilled. Quick and clean and from dust to dust. Angel knew that this Slayer didn't have Faith's problems either as he watched her help a young boy and his dog up from where they had huddled when the vampires surrounded them.
Angel's leg throbbed as she moved closer and took off.
"Stupid fucking," someone shouted over him. "You bloody moron."
Angel felt a slap against his face. Spike. He automatically vamped and growled, reaching to punch Spike.
But Spike had already moved in anticipation of the blow. "You know, you really need to warn a bloke when you go and do something like that."
Groaning, Angel pulled himself to a sitting position. His leg still throbbed with pain. "How long have I been out?" He watched Spike pace around the room. "How long, Spike?"
"Three days." Spike finally stopped and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Three fucking days."
*****
The Volvo shook worse than Angel remembered, rattling around. It also made a loud noise when it went into second gear. A really grating noise that had sawed through Angel's last nerve. Spike's driving didn't help.
He tried to sleep, but his head banged against the window. So he settled on glaring at Spike.
"Nothing happened?" Spike asked him again for the thousandth time. "She just killed some vamps and went on her way?"
"Yes."
"She wasn't in trouble?"
"No." Angel shifted. He wished that he would've let Spike steal the pillows from the hotel.
"You're officially the worst seer ever." Spike fiddled with the radio. "You can't even see someone who's in trouble. Remind me again why we're rushing to Portland to save a girl who's not in trouble?"
"Because that's where the mission is."
"And if the PTB jumped off a bridge would you?" Spike held up his hand. "No wait, don't answer. You would. Hook line and sinker."
Angel folded up his jacket and placed it under his knee. "Shut up, Spike." He wanted to just close his eyes and sleep.
"Yeah, because going without a plan helped so well last time."
"We had a plan, Spike."
"No, we didn't. You kill this, I'll kill that, and then we'll meet up isn't a plan."
Angel turned away from Spike and tried to look out the scratches on the window. But the black paint covered the view and blocked the sunlight. "We're just meeting a Slayer."
"She could be evil." Spike jerked the car from the left to the right lane and back again.
Angel was thankful that vampires didn't get car sickness. "She's not."
"How do you know?"
"I had a vision, assface." Angel sighed. "Just keep driving." They only had an hour or so more at the speed Spike was driving.
*****
By the time they reached Portland, the sun was down and Angel wanted to scrap the paint from the windows. He wanted to look out on a city that wasn't destroyed. It was the end of their journey, and this place might be their new home. Angel wondered if it was big enough for both him and Spike.
Rain pelted against the car and the wipers screeched. Angel missed his cars. "Take the next exit," he said.
"I know." Spike swerved over to the exit only lane as Angel tried to mess with his window. "This thing's going to fill with water with the window open, and we have to sleep here tonight."
Angel shook his head. "I think we'll be okay."
"Yeah, maybe. Just don't know about this girl. She cute?"
"Is she what?" Angel paused and then started to laugh. Another girl. He was chasing another Slayer and Spike was following him.
"Probably shouldn't go there." Spike snorted.
"Buffy," Angel muttered. He thought of seeing her in front of her school, sucking on a lollipop. If he'd been honest to himself then, he would've noticed how young she'd been. Instead, he'd been drawn to her power, to her hope.
"There will never be another Buffy."
Angel knew that they'd run into her again, especially if this Slayer held their new mission. "There really won't."
"We need beer," Spike said.
"Yep."
They drove in silence through the streets. Spike had been quiet a lot lately. There were actual moments where Angel found that he could think, and it was new. Everything was new and different and yet exactly like Angel had left it. He was going to meet another Slayer. He was hurt and without anything like the first day he saw Whistler, the moment he saw her.
Of course, this Slayer was no Buffy. There would never be another Buffy. But there would be others and that was what counted. Whatever he had with Nina showed him that. His continuing, constantly changing and seemingly never-ending relationship with Spike proved it. He only wished to share that with Connor.
Angel's son would be his only selfish regret.
*****
Rona, the Slayer, turned out to be nothing like Buffy. (Even though she definitely knew Buffy and had helped fight the First in Sunnydale. Angel had felt ashamed for not remembering her face among the surviving newly-minted Slayers. Especially when Spike chatted with her like they were long-lost best friends.) She also turned out to be something of an accomplished healer, trained by the same coven that had taken Willow in.
Angel found them a small house in Portland with three bedrooms after a week of sharing Rona's couch with Spike. He never thought he'd get that cramp out of his neck.
Rona was still pretty disgusted by them drinking blood and stored the blood in a mini-fridge that she found on the side of the road. She said that it'd probably be discarded by former college students. Spike complained that it made his blood smell like rotten milk; Angel didn't mind.
But, otherwise, Rona was okay with them. Cooled down after her long distance call to Giles and two different stories of just how they found Rona. Giles, of course, already knew because there'd been a prophecy. There was always a prophecy; Angel really hated them.
Angel's leg healed, and they went out on patrol every night. Rona wasn't a seer like Cordelia or Doyle, but she was pretty good at scrying, enough to keep herself hacking up vampire dust and Spike grumbling about sewing up his beloved jacket.
Rona was attractive. But she wasn't blonde and petite, so not really Angel's type. And besides, Spike kept ending up in his bed. So much so that they converted Spike's room into a gym. Originally, Angel had wanted an office, but Spike pointed out that he would just brood in the dark instead of work.
"Stop stealing my fries," Rona said. She smacked Spike's hand. After a rough night slaying, she always ordered burgers and fries.
Angel still couldn't figure out what Spike found attractive about human food. It always tasted like paper to him. Of course, Spike had probably been one of those kids who ate paper. Angel wondered if Connor had eaten paper as a kid in his not-real-real life.
"Stop brooding," Spike said. He handed Angel a beer before turning back to Rona who was trying to grab one for herself. "Not you, missy, I don't think you're old enough according to those laws of yours."
Rona rolled her eyes and took it anyway. It wasn't like Spike ever stopped her or that Angel hadn't seen her wipe the floor with his ass several times over. "You're a bastion of morals, Spike."
It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes. "What are we going to do about broody over there?"
"I'm not brooding." Angel crossed his arms. He was not sulking.
"Sure you are," Rona said. "You're like Broody McBroody Pants." She smiled and looked over at Spike. Her eyes were bright with a mischievous glare. "You could just take him into your guys' room and fuck him. Then Angel'd have that 'I just go laid' smile."
"I do not have an 'I just got laid' smile."
"Yes, you do." Rona smirked at Angel. Her expression mimicked the one Angel had seen on Spike's face a million times.
"I think that's a good idea." Spike grabbed Angel by the sleeve of his jacket - his new jacket - and pulled him toward the bedroom. Angel never protested. "Have fun with your fries."
"Have fun with your cock," Rona shouted as Spike slammed the door shut.
"You ganged up on me," Angel said. He finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the dresser.
Spike yanked him down toward the bed and started to strip him of his clothing. "You don't seem to be protesting. Much. In fact, I'd say that you rather like it. You just always like having-"
Angel kissed him, kissed Spike roughly. Finally making Spike shut up and finally having something else to concentrate on besides the constant thrum in his head of should've beens.
When the kiss broke, Spike grinned. He rubbed his erection against Angel's leg. "Fuck me."
"Planning on it. Planning on a lot of things." When Spike tried to kiss him again, Angel grabbed Spike's hair and wouldn't' let him get close. "Think there's something that we haven't tried yet?"
"In the glass elevator on the Space Needle?"
"Spike." Angel smiled. This was the way his life was now. Not perfect, no, it would never be perfect. But not too bad. Maybe the PTB had let him off light this time, at least for a decade or so he could hope.
Author: viciouswishes
For: romanyg
Beta: gentle_thorns
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Setting: Post-"Not Fade Away"
Words: 15,500
Summary: His braces are indeed worthy of Cuchulain. Part 1/2
Angel heard about the centering crystal and the witch long before he needed it. When Darla came back and the Swami failed, Lorne suggested it as an alternative to finding his path. Another plea that shattered like glass. It was too much work to find the crystal then, even if the witch’s burial ground was down the street from Caritas.
It meant Angel had to go back to L.A. and to face the destruction of the city. When they stayed in Vegas on their never ending inch north, he decided it was time to knock a few heads together.
Thankfully, the demon bar hadn't moved and the secret passwords to the backrooms were still the same. He didn't consider telling Spike where he was going until confronted by two large Fyarl bouncers, guarding a game of poker. Spike would've helped.
The first one was easy to kill. "I'm looking for this crystal," Angel said. "But since I don't speak Fyarl, you can't help me." He stabbed it with a silver dagger he carried under his belt. Luckily, Fyarls didn't bleed a lot as he finally had clothing that fit and was his.
However, the second one proved to be a little stubborn. It punched Angel, sending him crashing against the wall. The poker players continued undisturbed.
Angel shook the plaster from his hair and vamped. "Now you've made me angry."
The Fyarl growled and charged at him again. This time, Angel punched it in the face, distracting it long enough to make the kill.
Angel looked over at the poker table. "Now that I'm done with guards, are you guys going to put up a fight?"
"I believe we're already dead so fighting's not important, and we're very much women, thank you," said a blonde who upped the bet on the table. "In fact, you are very much the cause of our deaths. Not necessarily literally, but by the twists of your fate with ours."
"Literally from me. You did take the final drink for some," said the woman, matching the other's bet. She leaned forward into the light. A lilac scarf dangled onto the table.
It figured that Lilah Morgan survived Wolfram & Hart's destruction and was set to taunt him. "Where's the crystal, Lilah?" Angel growled. He thought about seeing how fast her head popped off.
"Such animals." A woman leaned forward with blood splattered on the side of her face. "You probably don't even recognize me. You did let those vampires ravage my home."
"Estelle Manners," Lilah introduced her. She pointed to the other players. "That's Tina and, of course, you know Eve. What can I say, we needed a fourth player."
All of them were his failures, one way or another. Sure both Lilah and Eve had sold their souls to Wolfram & Hart, but Angel had been the one to sign their deaths. Not that anyone who died stayed that way anymore.
"Tell me, Lilah, what do I have to do to make you give me the crystal?" Angel asked. He wasn't' in the mood for another one of Lilah's games.
Lilah sighed and rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, nothing. There was this prophecy and well, it's all yours."
"Though you'll have to take a trip," Estelle said and the others nodded.
*****
"So where's this magical mojo swami mage with his hootzits and whatzits that are going to cure your brooding?" Spike stood next to the dresser; his elbow rested on top of it.
"She." Angel frantically pulled out their clothing and tossed it into the suitcase that sat on the floor. "She's not going to..." Explaining things to Spike seemed to be the low point of his unlife and frankly, he was a little tired of trying. He'd already gotten what he needed with the relative ease of cracking of few skulls and dealing with only one shopkeeper. "She's going to set me back on my mission."
"Ah, yes, the great unending mission for redemption. So they can make you a real boy, even though you bloody signed it away. And, oh yeah, all your friends died trying to get you there." Spike grabbed a navy blue t-shirt before it fell in the growing mound of clothing and pulled it over his head. "And no, I don't count. I'm not your friend."
"Good to know," Angel muttered, zipping up the overstuffed and lumpy suitcase. He needed to clear his head. Pausing for a moment, he looked up at Spike. "Spike, we're two vampires with souls. The only two. We're cham-"
"No, don't fucking say it. I burned up once and that was for a girl. Sure I'm kind of fond of this place and don't care to see Armageddon coming down the road, but I'm not you."
"Then you don't have to come." Angel slung the suitcase strap over his shoulder and grabbed the cooler in one hand and his sword in another. Without glancing at Spike, he headed out the door.
"Jesus Christ. Angel!"
Angel shut the Volvo's trunk. He'd bought it with the money he'd taken from Spike's pockets. The money that he didn't even want to know where or how Spike came upon it. Climbing in the car, he turned it on and grimaced as some god-awful punk band's music blared. The passenger side door slammed closed loudly as Angel turned down the music.
"You took my clothes and my money! It's always your way, isn't it? Take anything you want from Spike, doesn't matter his feelings because it's all yours." There was blessed silence for a moment. "You realize that this car is old and build like a tank, not penis-shaped like the last twenty?"
"It was all I could afford." Angel could hear the protest rising again in Spike's throat. "All you could afford." He looked behind him as he backed up and pulled out of the motel parking lot. "Besides, anything cool at this price would mean hours of rebuilding labor."
"Because we aren't going to live forever. Have all the time in the world, you stupid pounce." Spike kicked his feet up on the dashboard. "Now let's see just how fast this baby goes." He leaned over in front of the dash, causing Angel to push him away. "Peg her at 85."
As Angel pulled onto the highway, which he hoped led to the interstate that would take them back to Death Valley, he wished he would've brought duct tape. Five hours on the road with Spike, he could do it, and it'd still be dark when they arrived. He'd spent days in the past traveling by horseback. Of course, knocking Spike out never made him feel guilty when he was evil.
"Silent treatment all the way it is." Spike took his lighter from his pocket and began to light it again and again. "Maybe I'll just take a nap."
"Maybe you should." Angel's hands gripped the steering wheel in frustration. Why he couldn't tell Spike to fuck off once and for all, he didn't know.
"Isn't Death Valley that way?" Spike pointed to the road sign. "This way's practically going to end up with us in downtown L.A."
"What do you think L.A. is now, Spike? Don't you ever watch anything besides porn?" Angel felt his foot starting to crush the gas peddle and eased off.
"Yeah, sometimes I watch I Love the 70s just to be reminded that at one point you actually had worse hair."
Angel turned toward Spike. "If you don't give me that lighter, I'm going to rip your hand off." He reached over to grab the lighter from Spike, who pulled it closer to the window. His hand batted toward Spike's.
Spike laughed as a horn sounded. "Better watch the road, precious."
Looking back at the road, Angel noticed that they'd drifted into the other lane, into on-coming traffic. Jerking the steering wheel, he turned them back toward their own lane; the tires of the Volvo screeched in response.
Spike continued to laugh. "What a hunk of metal. The Lamborghini'd've done that without the give."
"Was that how you sunk my Lamborghini in the bay," Angel growled. His instinct was to throttle Spike, but instead he concentrated on driving.
"Not your Lamborghini anymore. Not your Viper or Enzo or Porsche. Not your helicopter or your jet. No fancy glass for you." Spike slipped his lighter back into his pocket. "Could write a song about it and sell it to Nashville. Of course, you had Lorne kill the cowboy, didn't you?"
Flooring the Volvo, Angel attempted to speed passed a motorhome on an uphill stretch. His Viper would've whipped around it in five seconds. "Lindsey couldn't sing anyway."
"That's not what Wesley said."
Angel looked at his clock and started repeating his mantra that he wouldn't stake Spike as they continued to drive down the freeway. He sighed and settled on ignoring Spike and watching the scenery.
"Los Angeles 60 miles. 59.9 miles. 59.8 miles," Spike counted.
"Shut up, Spike. Stop counting the fucking mile markers." Angel wished, not for the first time, that they were already there.
"Hey, it's not my fault you won't play alphabet games with me." Spike flicked the ashes from his cigarette out the window. "Or tell me exactly what you stole from those demons last night. All that slime, they had to have something good."
Angel's hand banged down on the top of the dash. "A crystal. Happy, Spike? A crystal that could probably fit inside even your small hands." He pulled the crystal out of a small black pouch hidden in the dash.
Spike frowned. "So what's the special thing this crystal's got? It's obviously something. Otherwise, you wouldn't have gone to all that trouble. Unless it stores a Senior Partner, and then you'd destroy a whole metropolis."
Angel took a deep breath. "No, it'll call the witch that we're looking for."
"One you're looking for," Spike corrected him. "Oh, look the Green Dome. They had excellent blooming onions and imported beer straight from England. Bloody brilliant."
"You drove an hour out of L.A. to sit in a dive bar?" Shaking his head, Angel took the next exit. He tired to ignore the desolation on the road. The closer they came to the Los Angeles, the worse it got. People lived on the outskirts, but not in the center; as if the ghost of Wolfram & Hart lingered and drove out everything living, everything green and growing, away. Or maybe it was the land cleansing itself. But every broken road sign and crumbled building reminded him of dead family, friends, and lovers.
Angel continued driving over what was once road and now covered with dirt. Dirt flowed like water, tons of it drenching the formerly proud and busy city.
"Best L.A. traffic ever." Spike tapped his hand on the door in beat with the music. The music they'd fought for an hour or more over. "And possibly the best thing you ever did for this city."
"We took out Wolfram & Hart and their minions, Spike." Angel veered off to the side of the road and parked the Volvo.
"The L.A. branch." Spike kicked his feet down from their place on the dash. "You forgot their Seattle and Atlanta ones or London and Rome. You remember Rome, right? C.E.O. with gigantic tits that could swallow even your forehead. Evil's still afoot."
"And that's why we're here." Making sure the pouch was secure in his coat, Angel got out of car and moved to the trunk to find his sword. He'd had bad experiences with swami impersonators in the past and wasn't going to let another ten feet away from him without a weapon.
The desert surrounded them, wide and far. The desert was not the place to be for two vampires, even if there were nearby abandoned buildings. "You really don't get sarcasm, do you?" Spike drug his feet through the dirt, dust flying through the air. "I think Dodger Stadium was here."
"Mother Earth ate the land," Angel muttered. He held the crystal in his hand, fingers threatening to crush it. He thought he saw the skeleton of a dragon in front of him. There hadn't been just one; there had been hundreds, swarming the sky like giant locusts.
The earth quaked below their feet. "Great, now look what you've done." Spike pointed to the knee-high pyramid shape that had appeared between them. "Probably filled with snakes or something else nasty."
The crystal in Angel's hand started to glow and felt hot against his skin. "Spike, we're not Indiana Jones."
"That's just because you'd fight me over the starring role." Spike joined Angel on the other side of the object, and Angel watched the other vampire's arm muscles tense up as Spike adjusted his grip around an axe.
"Shit." Angel dropped the crystal from his hand and looked down at his newly scalded flesh. Bending over, he went to retrieve the crystal from the dirt, attempting to balance it on his sword.
Spike shook his head. "Oh for fuck's sake." He snatched the crystal out from under Angel's fingers, growling at the contact. "Did you not see the gaping hole on the side of this thing?" He placed the crystal inside the indent.
A brilliant light flashed, temporarily blinding Angel.
*****
When Angel regained his vision, the first thing he noticed was that his sword was missing from his hand. And the second thing was woman sitting by a brightly glowing fire. A smile appeared on her dark face. She was younger than he expected. "Welcome, Champion," she said.
Angel hoped she was Toypurina the Witch, the one who was said to guide heroes back on their paths. He'd had enough with false prophets and gods for all his lifetimes.
"Only in the corporeal world," Toypurina answered as if reading his mind. "I am many more things here. You see what this land can give. Champion, come sit by my fire. But your protector must stay out of the circle."
"He's not my protector." Angel didn't mean to snap at the witch, but he could definitely watch his own back.
"Yeah, what he said. Besides I saved the bloody world and I've got a soul." Spike also seemed dazed without his weapon.
Toypurina lifted up her hand to silence Spike. "Young protector, you've not earned your right. Do not test me."
"How's Angel going to stay safe without me? From what he's told me, you Powers That Bugger You Without Lube are so very trustworthy," Spike said. He never did know how to shut up.
"Shut up, Spike." Angel started moving toward the fire. His suspicions were somehow eased by Toypurina's chastising of Spike or at least, Spike's tongue. Angel would never admit that Spike's gut was often right, despite his sometimes divided loyalties.
"The young protector's correct. She whose name holds power slipped passed us. We will not be held up again. People may enslave each other, but a Power should not. Our Champion of Angels has passed."
Angel's eyes widened. He felt like giving Toypurina a thank you or a slap in the face for giving him a half-apology. Angel didn't think of Cordelia and how she held the sword until her death.
When he looked back toward Spike, Angel couldn't find him. No doubt, Toypurina had cloaked him with her magics. Spike had come this far; he was unlikely to just leave and really, where would he go.
Toypurina ignored Angel's questions about Spike's disappearance. "Sit and take my hand." She waited for Angel to comply before turning to stare into the fire.
Angel swore that the fire was growing. It reached toward the night sky, connecting the stars in the sky. His vampire eyes couldn't adjust to the bright and he closed them.
When he opened them again, Angel looked over at Toypurina. Only she was no longer there, instead Cordelia held his hand and they were standing in the middle of the Hyperion lobby. "Cordelia?"
"The one and the only," Cordelia said, smiling. She turned and wrapped her arms around him. Even here she felt luxuriously warm. "God, I'm so glad that you didn't die." She unwrapped from his arms and hit him on the shoulder. Apparently, her strength hadn't lessoned since her death. "Seriously, where was your strategy, general? Huh? Why didn't you call for an army of Slayers, not like you don't know one or two and their pretty powerful witch friend."
Angel winced and rubbed his arm. Cordelia's words still stung more than her strike. He looked down at the floor and frowned.
Cordelia shook her head. "You never change. Anyway, I'm here for the non-cryptic part of your journey. Well, they wanted me to do this whole act with doves and my eyes turning, but been there, done that. And every Tom, Dick, and Jane that has PTB favor points uses them."
"You're bored, aren't you?" Angel noticed that she was a little too excited to see him, a little too twitchy. She should be madder at him, should've hit him harder, or cursed at him.
"Heaven's heaven. You have to create your own fun."
Angel stepped away from her. He couldn't forget that they weren't in the Hyperion. That this place was something Toypurina created. "There's something you're supposed to tell me?"
"Yes, you lughead," Cordelia said. "I'm supposed to tell you that the Powers are sending you another seer. After the whole 'Jasmine' issue, they'll be monitoring their heroes a little more closely. Think airport security without the wandering hands. Also the new seer's already partially demon so no worries about exploding brains."
Angel crossed his arms. He didn't like the idea of the PTB imposing another player on him. "Does the new seer have a name, gender, species?"
"Now that would give it away." She winked at him. "However, the seer has yet to be called, so you're getting a temporary solution." Cordelia caught his eye. He swore he saw the sadness, the longing, he'd missed that the first time she'd come back, before the nurse's phone call that informed him she was dead.
"I miss you, Cordy." Angel's words felt hollow as he said them.
"I know, but I better not see your souled ass here anytime soon," Cordelia said. She had tears on the corners on her eyes that he wanted to kiss away.
So he did. Angel pulled her into his arms and kissed her. Thought of nothing else besides her lips against his. When she disappeared from his arms, Angel found himself still at the fire and still holding Toypurina's hand. "Keep teasing me with Cordelia and I'm going to start thinking that she's really coming back."
Toypurina's skin seemed to be glowing and almost moving. She seemed more alive than anyone he'd touched in years, since holding an infant Connor in his arms. "All life is cyclical, unless you become stuck, Champion."
"Like a vampire," Angel muttered.
"Yes. But one day your soul will come unhinged from its body."
"The Shanshu." Angel's response was automatic, trained for his time with Wesley and Cordelia. From the summer, they killed every demon in every vision, destroyed the evil from the land in a way that reminded Angel of the Biblical teachings of his youth.
"Or death. Death eventually finds us all, no matter how immortal we may seem."
Angel once thought that he knew death. Anymore he wasn't so sure. "So what's the game?"
"Game?" Toypurina tilted her head in a way that made Angel think of Spike. "There is no such thing. Only war. Only struggle. And people like you who fight the remaining demons."
"You don't by chance have any charts I can see on how that fight's going, do you?"
"You have spent too much time in the bowels of your enemies," Toypurina said. She frowned, her brows creasing together. Her hand tugged from his.
"Thought we were fighting for the same team?" Angel placed one hand on the ground and pushed himself up. The fire had started to feel too warm.
"We are. And while we applaud your destruction of the one the humans called Jasmine, you lost yourself in the protection of The Destroyer." Toypurina's stare never wavered from Angel.
"Connor," Angel said, "his name's Connor, and he's my son."
"While we don't deny that connections to the world will keep you on your path, The Destroy has his own destiny, separate from yours."
"Let's hope it includes fat grandchildren."
"You must go on." Toypurina pulled a small dark sack from her waist and held it out for Angel. "Inside this pouch are three momoy seeds. With the power of each one, you will be led closer to your seer."
Angel "And how do I know that the visions aren't going to be hijacked by some former Power set to destroy my life?"
"I have already given you my word. Our past neglect was our error and we seek to stop future abuse. But do not anger us, Champion. Do not knock the world off its balance."
The bright light flashed in front of Angel's eyes once more.
*****
They settled into a place that Angel knew would be safe from demons and other beings with evil intentions: Wesley's old apartment. They found the doors aligned with the same marks as Lindsey's apartment, the only thing that lacked was the vampire barrier. Angel sighed and crossed the threshold.
"You're not going to go through with this." Spike was surveying Wesley's liquor collection. He grabbed a bottle of Scotch as old as Spike himself. "No, wait you will. Once a sucker, always a sucker."
"Talking about yourself again," Angel said. He went toward the refrigerator. He knew there would be blood, but he doubted it would be fresh. Angel promptly closed the fridge at one glance of the congealed fluid.
"Wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you." Spike drank straight from the bottle. He'd never learned to use a glass.
Angel shook his head. "We're going to set things right." He sat on the couch, his hand still in his pocket and rolling the pouch between his fingers. He needed to do this. Just get it over with. He knew a test when he saw one. "I'm going to do this."
"Not like you're ever cared a bit about what I thought. Look how your last brilliant plan turned out." Spike's hand waved toward the window where the desolation of L.A. laid out before them.
Angel took the pouch out and tossed it around from hand-to-hand. "It was flawed."
"This is insane." Spike took a large swallow from the bottle. He offered it to Angel.
Taking it, Angel looked around the room. They shouldn't be here. It was wrong. Wesley, the Wesley with all his memories, wouldn't want Angel here. They'd move tomorrow.
"What the hell." Angel swallowed the first momoy seed and promptly passed out.
The vision came like a dream. A hallucination of Wesley speaking to him, reading from books in Latin. Angel's Latin was rusty. But there was no mistaking that Wesley was condemning him, condemning him to burn.
Wesley wasn't the first one and wouldn't be the last one.
Angel saw Jasmine shake her head, saw the eternal plot where she laid buried. Daughter of Connor, granddaughter of Darla. Even Angel had no place on the outskirts of heaven.
But his mission played out for him on the big screen. All he had to do was watch and memorize. Take down the pictures coming in full surround sound better than a high school cheerleader ever did.
*****
Angel felt groggy, but he had this mission. That was important. The mission itself wasn't too hard. He and Spike had to take out a nest of vampires holed up under the Sausalito side of the Golden Gate Bridge.
He'd seen the Bridge, huge above him in the vision. The signs on roads flashing with directions and places. Of course, there was the traditional blood and guts. All the things he remembered Cordelia screaming at him, all the things she later excepted with a calm demeanor that he once believed was her confidence in his abilities.
Angel looked out the window, trying to clear his head.
Spike drove most of the way and complained that they needed a stereo. Angel started to agree with him after being treated to the vocal-styling of Spike's take on Circle of Jerks. He supposed that it could've been worse; Spike could've liked light jazz.
Angel's head had cleared by the time they reached San Francisco, and the vampires they slaughtered were young and stupid. A bunch of newly sired ones trying to raise an army by feeding on the masses of homeless that had made their way north.
Angel saw every mistake he made that night mocking him in the golden eyes of his kill.
Spike tossed his sword in the trunk when they were done. "Where to next, boss?"
"I don't know," Angel said. He fingered the bag in his pocket.
"Wherever it is, I'd like a shower and some new clothes." Spike leaned up against the car and lit a cigarette. "Maybe we'll get something to cheer you up. New sword? Can't have too many of those."
*****
They kept driving north. Angel felt drugged and tired after the second seed. He figured that the PTB's new visions were more specific than those given to Cordelia. They had names, places, and cities, not relying on Angel's memory of the area or clues they'd have to search for on America's highways. Spike had made all the appropriate jokes about Angel's thick skull.
Everything was normal or heading there. Almost.
In the silence, Angel missed them. He missed Wesley with his books, Gunn with his axe, and Cordelia with her wit and strength. He missed holding a baby in his arms and looking into his son's clear blue eyes. And seeing him grown, standing there as a man that Angel didn't recognize.
They were searching for something slimy and evil. Something that carried a token on its third eye. Angel just hoped that the eye was metaphorical.
"You ever think it was going to be like this?" Spike asked from the driver's seat. Spike seemed to be asking a lot of questions lately that Angel didn't want to answer, much less think about. "Almost feels like when we used to roam the continent. Only with worse transportation."
Spike was at least half right. The car was crappy. They both knew that, especially after Angel's collection at Wolfram & Hart. But almost anything was better than watching a horse shit while yanking the reins.
Angel considered telling Spike, for the thousandth time, to shut up and drive. He felt like sleeping. He felt like crawling in himself for while. But Spike never once shut up.
"I suppose it's good that we have souls this time around," Spike continued. "I mean, the nunneries are safer."
"I doubt there are any active nunneries in the Cascade Mountain passes," Angel said. "Did you just make a nun joke?"
"Yep." Spike lit another one of his infernal cigarette. Angel was surprised that he didn't have a bottle of Jack between his legs. "If you can't beat your past, you need a sense of humor about it. Oh, wait, I forgot who I was talking to. At least, Angelus could take a joke."
Only if Angelus thought it was funny, Angel silently added. Instead, he went with his chorus of shut up.
Angel looked at the map again. They weren't too far from this Ashland place. Apparently, it was just across the Oregon border. If Spike drove a little faster, they just might make it before sunrise.
*****
"I did some research." Spike dropped a printed page from Demons, Demons, Demons on the hotel bed. "Nice dark library just off the sewers. And I only managed to frighten one child and upset one mother."
"You shouldn't look up porn in a public place," Angel said. He rubbed his hand against his forehead wondering where Spike found all this energy.
"I wasn't looking up tits, you git." Spike shoved the paper against Angel's chest. "These aren't exactly the Furbies of the demon world."
Angel rolled his eyes. "I know what they look like, Spike. Vision, remember?" This from the guy who was always telling him that he was getting rusty in his old age. Not that they were actually getting any older.
"Also got you this." Spike handed him a packet of blood. "It's cow and I warmed it already. Apparently, some people are still trying to be farmers."
"Huh." Angel ripped the corner off and drank. He'd been less hungry since visiting Toypurina, but knew that he needed the substance if they were going to kill the not-Furbies or Fuberies as Spike's computer printout read.
Spike had settled down on the bed and was flipping through the channels. He always flipped through them, never watching anything. Angel doubted Spike would even pay attention to porn if Angel let him order it.
"I'm bored," Spike said. "Wanna fuck?"
"Spike." Angel sighed. He knew that Spike wasn't going to let it go, wasn't going to stop bringing it up.
"So you can take advantage of me when I'm weak or you're in a maudlin mood, but don't want to touch me when I'm all healthy." Spike paused and lifted an eyebrow. "I can bend much better now."
Angel tossed the empty bag into the garbage. "Let it go."
Life was finally moving again and he wasn't at a stand still.
*****
Angel tried to sleep before heading out, but he hadn't done much of that recently either. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Wesley staring back at him, Wesley with a knife plunged into his gut. Angel thought about his own hands smothering Wesley with a pillow.
Before his eyes filled with sleep, he heard Connor laughing, and he jerked awake to see Spike staring back at him.
The excuse had always been that they only had one bed and could only afford the one. But Angel will never admit to liking the passion and the sorrow encapsulated in the taste of Spike's lips.
When they fucked, it wasn't the thing that story books were filled with. It was about blood and longing. About the sharp stabbing pain in Angel's chest as he thrust into Spike again and again. All the times that Angelus sunk his teeth into Spike's neck and all the times that Angel wanted to. Angel knew that Spike would some day ask him again for that.
Spike, the petulant child, who always got what he wanted in the end. Here was Angel, cock buried in Spike's ass, giving him exactly what he'd denied him earlier. Spike wore his needs, wants, and desires outlined with details on his sleeve.
And Angel gave it to him. He gave it to him out of responsibility, out of family, and out of love and hatred. Out of his own need to keep something of his close to him. Spike smelled of Buffy, of Dru, of Angel himself, and of Darla.
Angel came with groan.
*****
The last Fubery stabbed Angel in the leg. And Angel fell to the ground in pain. He didn't expect it, couldn't see it coming by his opponent's movement. He clutched his leg and watched Spike behead the Fubery.
Spike stood above him, licking his split lip. "Going to live?"
The punch line was, of course, forever. But it wasn't a joke that Angel would say on a good day, much less one where he was bleeding profusely from his leg. The joke was cruel anyway.
Angel grunted Spike wrapped his leg with a piece of his torn shirt. The wound was small but deep. He would go back to the hotel, the bleeding would stop, and his leg would heal. They would sleep as long as he needed and then they would go to their next destination. The last one.
He'd have his full mission again.
*****
Angel's leg didn't heal. And he sent Spike for another day in the Ashland Public Library, searching on Demons, Demons, Demons and Potions: Of the Mystical Variety.
His head almost felt clear. The last momoy seed weighed heavily in his pocket. But his leg had turned a blue-shade around the knife entry. Angel kept himself comforted with Jerry Orbach in the daytime and a fussing Spike in the evening. The only time, he was alone was when Spike went out patrolling. More than often, Spike came back smelling of cheap booze and with a rant about Oregon's no smoking laws.
They didn't talk about the non-healing wound.
"Sure you didn't see this is one of your visions?" Spike asked. He redressed the wound at least twice a day.
"Don't you think I would've avoided it?" Angel frowned. This was going anywhere. The wound wasn't healing and Spike was driving him nuts.
Spike rolled his eyes. "Could've avoided the whole thing," he muttered.
"Fuck you, Spike." Angel sank his head into the pillow. He didn't want to listen to any more of Spike. Not that he wanted the silence either.
Spike finished bandaging him and went for the bottle of Jack Daniel's that sat on the dresser. "Maybe you needed to be knocked down a notch."
"All my friends died. How much more knocked down can I get?" Angel regretted saying it, only because he felt it then. He felt it all. All laid up and just as helpless as he ever had been.
Their money was running out. Angel needed to take the other seed and get on. He didn't want to leave Spike - soul or not - to find their way. He had to get on with this. Angel reached for the last seed and swallowed.
It started out like looking at the back of his eyes. Bits of light raced by back and forth. Spike had gone to the library again and found that the seeds were used in ancient rituals. And they did not have the strong effect they had on Angel.
Magic. Angel let the magic move over and through him. He listened to the voice that drew him on his path. "Hello, Wesley."
"You're late." Wesley looked down at his watch. "Not that I'm currently busy."
"Got caught up." Angel pointed down to his leg. "You could've given me a heads up."
Wesley chuckled and waved for a drink. They were sitting in Caritas as it had been the first time that Wesley took him there. "I'm sure Spike's only projecting his worry." Wesley shook his head. "Really, Angel, I was trained as a Watcher and destiny... Well, you know all about that."
The Wesley in his hallucinations was always younger, less tainted than the one Angel took into that final battle. This was the one that Angel knew, that Angel trusted. Either Wesley was projecting himself like this or the PTB were trying to make him relax.
"I'll miss our talks," Wesley said. He sipped his beer.
Angel didn't respond. If Wesley was indeed all seeing, he already knew Angel's response. "What do you have today?"
"Impatient."
"You said that I already lost time." Angel's elbows were on the table as he leaned closer to Wesley. "Tell me how to heal my wound then."
Wesley sighed. The Wesley Angel knew would've given up the information. But this was not Angel's Wesley. "You have a mission, Angel. Plus, you have Spike to help you."
"Spike is not like having another limb."
"I don't know about that. Sometimes, I thought you two were attached at the hip." Wesley did watch him a little too closely for Angel's comfort. "But then again, you were probably just making up for Connor. Or was that Cordelia?" Wesley raised his eyebrow. "Buffy? Darla?"
"I get it, Wes." Angel grunted as his shifted his leg. The booth wasn't very comfortable.
"Fine." Wesley pushed his glass up on his nose. "Here is your vision. Goodbye, Angel."
Lorne's stag melted into a dark alleyway and Angel's beer into a map of Portland, Oregon. There was a large red 'x' on it. He quickly memorized it, looking for the best path from the freeway to the alleyway.
A girl stood alone. Her light blue hoodie and sweats reflected against her dark skin. She held a stake in her hand and killed a group of vampires. Angel thought that she looked a few years older than Buffy did when she was called. But there was no doubt that the girl was a Slayer.
Angel watched her battle. She didn't need his help. This Slayer even managed to answer her cellphone while staking the last one. Angel still hadn't figured out how voicemail worked.
This wasn't like the typical vision. There was no death of innocents, no blood spilled. Quick and clean and from dust to dust. Angel knew that this Slayer didn't have Faith's problems either as he watched her help a young boy and his dog up from where they had huddled when the vampires surrounded them.
Angel's leg throbbed as she moved closer and took off.
"Stupid fucking," someone shouted over him. "You bloody moron."
Angel felt a slap against his face. Spike. He automatically vamped and growled, reaching to punch Spike.
But Spike had already moved in anticipation of the blow. "You know, you really need to warn a bloke when you go and do something like that."
Groaning, Angel pulled himself to a sitting position. His leg still throbbed with pain. "How long have I been out?" He watched Spike pace around the room. "How long, Spike?"
"Three days." Spike finally stopped and sat down on the edge of the bed. "Three fucking days."
*****
The Volvo shook worse than Angel remembered, rattling around. It also made a loud noise when it went into second gear. A really grating noise that had sawed through Angel's last nerve. Spike's driving didn't help.
He tried to sleep, but his head banged against the window. So he settled on glaring at Spike.
"Nothing happened?" Spike asked him again for the thousandth time. "She just killed some vamps and went on her way?"
"Yes."
"She wasn't in trouble?"
"No." Angel shifted. He wished that he would've let Spike steal the pillows from the hotel.
"You're officially the worst seer ever." Spike fiddled with the radio. "You can't even see someone who's in trouble. Remind me again why we're rushing to Portland to save a girl who's not in trouble?"
"Because that's where the mission is."
"And if the PTB jumped off a bridge would you?" Spike held up his hand. "No wait, don't answer. You would. Hook line and sinker."
Angel folded up his jacket and placed it under his knee. "Shut up, Spike." He wanted to just close his eyes and sleep.
"Yeah, because going without a plan helped so well last time."
"We had a plan, Spike."
"No, we didn't. You kill this, I'll kill that, and then we'll meet up isn't a plan."
Angel turned away from Spike and tried to look out the scratches on the window. But the black paint covered the view and blocked the sunlight. "We're just meeting a Slayer."
"She could be evil." Spike jerked the car from the left to the right lane and back again.
Angel was thankful that vampires didn't get car sickness. "She's not."
"How do you know?"
"I had a vision, assface." Angel sighed. "Just keep driving." They only had an hour or so more at the speed Spike was driving.
*****
By the time they reached Portland, the sun was down and Angel wanted to scrap the paint from the windows. He wanted to look out on a city that wasn't destroyed. It was the end of their journey, and this place might be their new home. Angel wondered if it was big enough for both him and Spike.
Rain pelted against the car and the wipers screeched. Angel missed his cars. "Take the next exit," he said.
"I know." Spike swerved over to the exit only lane as Angel tried to mess with his window. "This thing's going to fill with water with the window open, and we have to sleep here tonight."
Angel shook his head. "I think we'll be okay."
"Yeah, maybe. Just don't know about this girl. She cute?"
"Is she what?" Angel paused and then started to laugh. Another girl. He was chasing another Slayer and Spike was following him.
"Probably shouldn't go there." Spike snorted.
"Buffy," Angel muttered. He thought of seeing her in front of her school, sucking on a lollipop. If he'd been honest to himself then, he would've noticed how young she'd been. Instead, he'd been drawn to her power, to her hope.
"There will never be another Buffy."
Angel knew that they'd run into her again, especially if this Slayer held their new mission. "There really won't."
"We need beer," Spike said.
"Yep."
They drove in silence through the streets. Spike had been quiet a lot lately. There were actual moments where Angel found that he could think, and it was new. Everything was new and different and yet exactly like Angel had left it. He was going to meet another Slayer. He was hurt and without anything like the first day he saw Whistler, the moment he saw her.
Of course, this Slayer was no Buffy. There would never be another Buffy. But there would be others and that was what counted. Whatever he had with Nina showed him that. His continuing, constantly changing and seemingly never-ending relationship with Spike proved it. He only wished to share that with Connor.
Angel's son would be his only selfish regret.
*****
Rona, the Slayer, turned out to be nothing like Buffy. (Even though she definitely knew Buffy and had helped fight the First in Sunnydale. Angel had felt ashamed for not remembering her face among the surviving newly-minted Slayers. Especially when Spike chatted with her like they were long-lost best friends.) She also turned out to be something of an accomplished healer, trained by the same coven that had taken Willow in.
Angel found them a small house in Portland with three bedrooms after a week of sharing Rona's couch with Spike. He never thought he'd get that cramp out of his neck.
Rona was still pretty disgusted by them drinking blood and stored the blood in a mini-fridge that she found on the side of the road. She said that it'd probably be discarded by former college students. Spike complained that it made his blood smell like rotten milk; Angel didn't mind.
But, otherwise, Rona was okay with them. Cooled down after her long distance call to Giles and two different stories of just how they found Rona. Giles, of course, already knew because there'd been a prophecy. There was always a prophecy; Angel really hated them.
Angel's leg healed, and they went out on patrol every night. Rona wasn't a seer like Cordelia or Doyle, but she was pretty good at scrying, enough to keep herself hacking up vampire dust and Spike grumbling about sewing up his beloved jacket.
Rona was attractive. But she wasn't blonde and petite, so not really Angel's type. And besides, Spike kept ending up in his bed. So much so that they converted Spike's room into a gym. Originally, Angel had wanted an office, but Spike pointed out that he would just brood in the dark instead of work.
"Stop stealing my fries," Rona said. She smacked Spike's hand. After a rough night slaying, she always ordered burgers and fries.
Angel still couldn't figure out what Spike found attractive about human food. It always tasted like paper to him. Of course, Spike had probably been one of those kids who ate paper. Angel wondered if Connor had eaten paper as a kid in his not-real-real life.
"Stop brooding," Spike said. He handed Angel a beer before turning back to Rona who was trying to grab one for herself. "Not you, missy, I don't think you're old enough according to those laws of yours."
Rona rolled her eyes and took it anyway. It wasn't like Spike ever stopped her or that Angel hadn't seen her wipe the floor with his ass several times over. "You're a bastion of morals, Spike."
It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes. "What are we going to do about broody over there?"
"I'm not brooding." Angel crossed his arms. He was not sulking.
"Sure you are," Rona said. "You're like Broody McBroody Pants." She smiled and looked over at Spike. Her eyes were bright with a mischievous glare. "You could just take him into your guys' room and fuck him. Then Angel'd have that 'I just go laid' smile."
"I do not have an 'I just got laid' smile."
"Yes, you do." Rona smirked at Angel. Her expression mimicked the one Angel had seen on Spike's face a million times.
"I think that's a good idea." Spike grabbed Angel by the sleeve of his jacket - his new jacket - and pulled him toward the bedroom. Angel never protested. "Have fun with your fries."
"Have fun with your cock," Rona shouted as Spike slammed the door shut.
"You ganged up on me," Angel said. He finished his beer and set the empty bottle on the dresser.
Spike yanked him down toward the bed and started to strip him of his clothing. "You don't seem to be protesting. Much. In fact, I'd say that you rather like it. You just always like having-"
Angel kissed him, kissed Spike roughly. Finally making Spike shut up and finally having something else to concentrate on besides the constant thrum in his head of should've beens.
When the kiss broke, Spike grinned. He rubbed his erection against Angel's leg. "Fuck me."
"Planning on it. Planning on a lot of things." When Spike tried to kiss him again, Angel grabbed Spike's hair and wouldn't' let him get close. "Think there's something that we haven't tried yet?"
"In the glass elevator on the Space Needle?"
"Spike." Angel smiled. This was the way his life was now. Not perfect, no, it would never be perfect. But not too bad. Maybe the PTB had let him off light this time, at least for a decade or so he could hope.
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no subject
on 2006-11-06 04:21 am (UTC)BWAH!!
I like the way Spike is constantly trying to annoy Angel in this, just to keep him from taking a nap in the sun. Some of the dialogue really rings true.
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on 2006-11-07 07:39 am (UTC)Glad to get some humor in there at the end. Yeah, Angel was definitely having a broody ole' time.
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on 2006-11-06 05:32 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-08 12:53 am (UTC)no subject
on 2006-11-08 05:22 pm (UTC)Hope to see you writing more Spike/Angel fics eventually. You are great at that!!!
*smoochies*
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on 2006-11-12 05:24 am (UTC)Thanks again! :)
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on 2006-11-14 12:18 am (UTC)And how like Angel needs his mission, Spike needs that someone. There is so much of need and love here underneath the despair and snark.
Plus, bathroom sex with a slayer's approval. *g*
Thank you so much.
no subject
on 2006-11-18 06:53 am (UTC)Besides my brain's little war on Spike, I think that those Wesley scenes were the hardest to write considering that I'm such a sucker for them.
Yes, the boys definitely love each other. Even if they could never say it, for they are manly vampires or manpires. ;)
And thank you for getting me motivated to finish this. It only took a year of me knowing that I really needed to finish it as a charity fic to finish it.
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on 2006-11-18 07:53 pm (UTC)But I thank you for finishing this one! *saved to mems*
I thought the Wes scenes were poignant.
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on 2008-04-05 07:08 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2008-04-09 07:15 pm (UTC)