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Part IV
Angel leaned back against the window frame again, wrapping one long leg under him to peer out at the garden below. He felt like a voyeur, an old, dirty man, eavesdropping on children; and in a sense, he was. He had left his window seat overlooking the blackened sea when he heard voices in his - the - garden. Voices and laughter and the unconstrained, carefree sounds of lovers. He watched as Drusilla chased a half nude Spike around the overgrown bushes, pelting him with flower petals as she divested herself of her own clothing. He watched as they rolled through the grass; pale, gleaming gods in the light of the Wind Moon. He watched as she climbed up into the old fountain, her shapely legs purposefully kicking water up into the amused countenance of her lover.. He watched and his chest tightened, and the small hairs stood up on his arms. Spike had been so certain, so sure: *he* isn't here, Sire, the younger man had said, only an hour before. Angel wasn't so convinced. This was *his* house. These were his rooms, his food and drink, his bed. His lovers. And although Angel had been invited to join them, he had hesitated. No, he had out and out refused. The danger of it rippled through his skin like firewater. He had a difficult enough time keeping Angelus at bay when he had sex with Spike. He had no idea what would happen if he let him out to play with both he and Dru. No, Spike had been dead wrong. *He* was here. Because he was always here. And the house, the garden, the memories, they were just convenient excuses. Angelus was awake and aware every moment, even while Angel had to sleep. *He* never did. Angel watched as William stripped completely, and followed Dru into the knee high water, ducking behind a marble angel carrying a watering spout. Dru stood under the spray, her blue black locks catching the droplets first, before throwing back her head to let the fierce stream course between her pale breasts. William
sprang upon her then, and together, they tumbled back into the cool water,
laughing. It struck Angel then what hurt so much about this scene. It wasn't
seeing Will happy with someone else. He loved his Childe enough that he
could never begrudge him that. Rather, it was the kind of happiness he
was witnessing here. It was almost like--- life. William and
And it didn't matter to Angel that Spike swore up and down it was all fine with him in the end, because it had all given him Dru. Of all the harm his demon had inflicted, this sin was unforgivable. This one alone was worth the price of admission to Hell. He watched the pair in the garden begin to kiss, his minds eye filling in the details even his preternatural vision couldn't make out in the distance and the darkness. He saw the tongues dancing over wet, red lips, the hands curling in wet, shiny hair. He heard the small sighs and whimpers, followed by low pitched grunts and growls as the demons within them awoke. He smelled the heady aroma of male and female arousal, and the sharp, sweet tang of vampire blood. And the longer Angel watched, and the more the he thought about it, the more he realized something else. He felt abandoned. He *was* jealous. He *was* angry. And those feelings didn't spring from his demon. They sprang from him. From his soul. He laid his head back on the wall as emotions overtook him, and somehow, knowing that they were being urged along and even magnified by the Essence Demon didn't help one small bit. **{{.....I enjoyed the dreams, Cordy.....}} Angelus had held Drusilla down on the bed once, and with Will helplessly tied to a chair watching, lathered the area between her legs with warm, soapy water. He shaved off all of her dark pubic hair with a straight razor. Clean and smooth. Angel couldn't even remember now what she had done to incur his wrath. Probably paid too much attention to Will, and not enough to him. Maybe just had the audacity to moan louder when Will touched her than when Angelus did. Whatever the infraction, this was his way of branding her again, of making sure everyone would know who owned her. Completely. Utterly. Because the hair would never grow back. And every time anyone would see her, lay with her, she would be reminded of this night, and of his possession of her. {{...Who do you belong to, Spike?.....}} When Angel met Drusilla again, years later, in his souled incarnation, he had remembered that night vividly. Recalled how she cried, but not too much, eager as always to set things right with her *Angel*, her *Daddy*. Recalled the blue eyes burning a hole in his back as he set about his task, the look of immaculate hatred in those eyes when he'd completed it, and turned to look into them. Conjured up how he had laid William between those still spread eagled legs, and bid him to lick the remaining dew and soap clean. He looked into Drusilla's vacant green eyes all those years later, and saw it all play out there. And he had been aroused. {{...It's not the demon in me that needs killing, Buffy, it's the man....}}** Angel opened his eyes to the night, to the knowledge that it was within him, always, to the sight of his Childer reenacting the scene from Genesis in the garden, and saw the emerald gaze find him....She looked right up at him, through the night and the window, through him....and she smiled..... Angels hackles rose, and he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against the cold glass, straining to get a better look....William was inside Dru, on his knees over her, and didn't notice when she pulled something from behind her back...Angel spread both palms on the window with a thud....he opened his mouth to scream, but there was no voice inside him.....it was like one of those horrible dreams where your feet are moving and you run and you run but you never really move....and he saw the sharpened piece of wood in her fist, and he heard Dru say, so clearly, and without any malice really..... =The sins of the Fathers, daddy= And when the howl finally came it was too late, because she was alone in the fountain now, and a small cloud of dust was settling over the water. Angel tumbled through the second story window and into the garden below, landing in a pile of glass shards and roses. He closed his eyes in anticipation of the pain as his back connected with solid earth, and his bare skin was pierced by dozens of pieces of glass, and what felt like no less than half a large rosebush. He opened his eyes again to the amused countenance of his male Childe. Spike cocked his head and one eyebrow at his battered, bloody Sire. “Always with the dramatic entrances, eh poof? This mean you change your mind and decided to join us?” Angel barely managed a nod at the mans unexpected presence, the feeling of relief washing through his heart in swift, generous waves making speech impossible. He gratefully accepted the outstretched hand which aided him to his feet. As he stood toe to toe with the smaller man, he simply forgot how to restrain his emotions. He grabbed William in a tight and desperate embrace, cradling the back of the auburn head in his hands. Angel ran his fingers over the smooth skin of Spikes back, his arms, his chest, touching him everywhere he could reach without letting him go, proving to himself that he was real. He was here. He was alive. (-ish). He clasped the younger man once more to his chest, and squeezed. “Oi! Pet, What the fuck? You're cuttin' me to ribbons here.” Angel pulled away as he realized the small shards and thorns were still embedded in his skin, and acting as tiny daggers whenever he got too close to Will. “Sorry,” he murmured, continuing nonetheless to run his bloodied hands over Spikes confused and oh so welcome face. He was still looking to Angel for an explanation for the odd behavior. Although whether it Angels diving out a second story window into Dru's roses or the sudden display of gushy affection which was giving Spike pause, Angel wasn't certain. But Angel was not about to explain what he had seen earlier. He had no idea where the vision had come from, whether it was his own fear at work, or a sick manifestation of Dru's desire for revenge against him. But he knew one thing for certain. He wasn't going to leave Spike alone with her. Dru floated up to the pair of male vampires, her half nude form twinkling in the inky black of the night. A lovely facade of fragile beauty. “Oh, my Angel, “ she cooed, “you're hurt,” her voice full of concern as her face shifted into demonic form, and she grabbed at his wounded wrist. Her fangs sunk into his bloody palm before he could pull away, and she suckled hungrily, holding onto his arm like a turkey leg and gnawing on the flesh. Dru had always been too - *Dru* to follow the Vampiric code of requesting permission before drinking Sires blood. She had always simply taken, with the unabashed arrogance of a deserving child. And
this was the vision Angel held on to as she gulped from him. If he was
to protect Will, he would need to keep his fears and motivations hidden.
So he threw a shield around his earlier, horrifying vision, and instead
painted a colorful mirage of thoughts and images for Dru to explore as
she fed.. No lies, for she would sense these. Just a careful reworking
of his
He showed her the innocence she once possessed, which had shone like a beacon his demon could not ignore. The aura of childlike simplicity and lust for the moment she continued to display, even after he turned her. The delicate, night blooming Orchid he had tried so hard to think of her as, after he'd regained his soul. He smothered the possessiveness, the rage, the guilt, which had haunted him since that time, and showed her only - the love. He could love her. Not as he loved Buffy, surely. Not even as he loved Will. But, here, now, as she was, he could give her a moment of himself before it was time for her to - Another pair of hands on Angels arm, gently pulling out the splinters of glass and the thorns, and closing each wound with the flick of a cool, pink tongue. A tug at Angels chest, and he gasped, as Spike pulled a shard of glass the size of a mans fist from just above his ribcage. He tossed it casually to the ground, and knelt down, to lick at the open wound. Then, two pair of small, demanding hands pushed the largest vampire to the soft grass, and he lay back willingly, watching as the moon stood still in the Spring sky. Fangs in his arms, his chest, his neck, his belly, working the majik. And soon, there was nothing else. The duo of vampires was sucking and feeding and the roller coaster ride Angel had grown to adore was coming in double time. He was floating again, apart from his body, looking down on the trio of white marble deities in the grass. It was only the pain which continued to radiate throughout his bones and his skin which reminded him that he was attached to the one perfect, white body laying between the other two. If he let himself, he could fly away from that pain, from that body, and could exist up here in the dark clouds.... {{Will}} With a determined start, Angel rejoined his physical self, unwilling to relinquish that much control, even for that much pleasure. The bitter taste of his earlier dream still filled his mouth. He reached for a soft, pliant form, uncaring whose it was, and bared his fangs, eager to replace that taste with something more palatable. Eager to replenish his strength, sapped from the tag team feed. Eager to feel safe, to make a connection with someone...something... His quest was thwarted by hands tugging him upward, pulling him along toward the fountain. Drusilla led the male vamps through the tangle of brush, pulling off her skirts as she did so, and Angel reached for his trousers, only to realize he was no longer wearing any. Spike was between them, and Angel noticed for the first time he was also completely nude.. The firm muscles of his white buttocks flexed and relaxed as he ran through the vines to keep pace with Dru. Angel flicked a tongue over his lips. Dru climbed in the fountain first, extending a strong, tiny hand to help her lovers up into the large stone bowl. Angel fought back the feeling of deja vu the best way he could. He followed. He scaled the fountain, and dropped into the cool, moving water. It smelled sweet...flower petals...someone had filled the fountain with them; they floated atop the blue water in a haze of color and scent. Angel raised his eyes to meet Dru's, looking for an expression, an emotion, an indication of anything....long, sooty lashes covering startling green was all he could find. Then Will was between them, and he once more wrapped the smaller man in a protective embrace. Spike lay his head back against his Sires chest, his long hair tickling the broad shoulder. Angel smoothed the auburn locks back, and sank his fangs deep into his Childe's neck. Will bucked against him, once, twice, then was still, reveling in the fierce suckling, spreading heat like wildfire from his neck to his belly to his cock. Angel ground himself against the younger vampires back, grunting his pleasure as his mouth filled with the sweet, powerful blood. He pushed William to his knees, and dropped along with him into the water, keeping his mouth attached to the spurting fount. Only when he heard the harsh whimper did he slow, and only long enough to offer his own wrist to the squirming vampire in his unwavering grip. Spike clamped his mouth over a wound he had only just himself healed, and drank from his Sire with greedy, desperate noises. {{Love you, Will}} he thought he heard in the Bloode, in the rush of losing himself. He froze, his mouth went still on the wrist. There was something different in this unbidden declaration, but he couldn't think clearly enough to determine what.... {{Love you, Will}} again...and he tried to formulate a sensible, if silent, response. The only thing that formed in his pleasure addled brain was an inarticulate mental version of *huh*? Angel grinned against the neck, pressed tenderly to his lips and chest. {{Shh...don't worry about it. I love you. This is for you....}} Drusilla was pouting now, eyeing the entwined male lovers warily. “Hey!” she stomped her foot and splashed, a spray of water and flower petals covering the men. Spike released his Sires wrist. Then he opened one eye at his irate princess, grinned, and pulled her to her knees in the fountain in front of him. She sputtered water as she fell face first, landing on her hands in a flash of black hair and a moment of fine fury. Then he reached out for her, pulled her close, and whispered something Angel couldn't quite catch over the pounding in his veins. Then her lips were on the other side of the auburn haired vampires neck, and he groaned in mindless pleasure, as her fangs descended. William arched and twisted in their forceful embrace, rocking against the arms and hands and teeth which held him bound. He gasped for air and wound his fingers into any soft hair or skin he could grasp. It had never been this way with Angelus and Dru....it had been lustful, supremely pleasurable, certainly. But it had also been at turns harsh and horrible. There had never been a sense of.....*this*. This was flying and falling, and crashing and dying, and he never wanted it to stop. “Pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease”.....he didn't even hear himself begging. But he heard the popping sound as Drusilla's fangs left his artery. Heard her small giggle of delight as she slid down the front of his body and ducked under the water to grasp his erect cock in her small, cool fist.. Heard his intake of breath, finally, as she placed her mouth around it and drew the aching shaft inside. She let her tongue drift over the whole of him, sliding easily up and down his impressive length in quick, tormenting motions, never lingering on one spot long enough, building the desire, the heat which only filled his normally cold frame at moments like these... Before sucking his entire member into her tight mouth, pulling in her cheeks, and swallowing him to the back of her throat. And still, Angel had not released his purchase on his neck. He shouted his pleasure, and tugged at Drusilla's hair cruelly, pulling her forward and pushing her away with the rhythm he ached for. William ignored her self satisfied laughter, gleeful now that she had driven to him to this level of mad, heedless desire, and instead concentrated on fucking her wet, talented mouth. The water splashed against his thighs, in cool contrast to his rapidly warming skin. The feed, the sex, it was as close as he would ever get to feeling alive...and while he would never trade his existence for mortality, Spike reveled in the sensations of vitality which came only from lust. He always had. Angel smiled again against the neck, catching the scattered thoughts dancing like Fall leaves in his Childe's mind. Human or undead, William had never enjoyed anything more than simple, physical pleasures. It was, quite possibly, the thing Angel adored about him the most. The unabashed readiness for a quick fight, quick feed, quick fuck. Angel wasn't about to let this one be quick. He pulled back just as he felt the smaller man begin to vibrate in his grip, tearing his teeth from the bared neck with a sharp tug, and a plaintive whimper. He soothed the wound and the dissatisfaction with a gentle lick, running his soft, wet tongue over the whole, smooth surface of the longest, most desirable neck to ever grace a vampire. Drusilla lifted her head from the water, shaking her dark hair in all directions. Sensing the sudden shift in mood, she wrapped her arms around Spike, extending her embrace to cover her Sire as well. Angel leaned into the silky arms, and rested his head against William's still trembling back. The larger vampire dropped open mouth kisses over the bumps on William's spine, nipping almost gently, and sealing the tiny puncture marks quickly with his next kiss. The auburn haired man shivered in his grasp. The mixture of pain and pleasure once more built to a fevered pitch inside him, as he felt his Sires hands begin to explore the puckered entrance to his body between his ass cheeks. Spike struggled to relax, letting his shoulders fall slack and his head once more loll back on the larger vampires shoulders. One questing finger joined another, followed by a third....and he heard Angel groan his delight and approval as Spikes muscles clenched around the probing digits. Dru watched with half open eyes as she began to stroke William's cock once more, wrapping a firm and decisive grip around its width, and rubbing in smooth rhythm. She watched her lovers faces carefully, clearly recalling every move in this ancient dance. And when Angels eyes closed in a long blink, and the man in their grip shook and howled once, his face shifting to demon visage, she slipped her legs around William, and sheathed him inside her velvety walls. William was moaning now with every breath, and at the moment, breathing, and breathing rapidly, was definitely a necessity. It was the only way he could be certain he was really still here, that he hadn't died...un-died...been dusted... and (quite accidentally, no doubt) ended up in some heathen version of heaven. Drusilla was wrapped around him, legs about his waist, arms about his shoulders, and pink, gossamer flesh and muscles around his cock. With every thrust of her hips she sent his body arching backward, and onto the gloriously hard shaft buried deep inside his ass. This could not last long. Preternatural strength and endurance or no, he could not take this agonizingly sweet ecstasy for long. Spike opened his eyes slowly to the sight of his dark beloved, her head thrown back, tips of her curls dangling in the water. Her eyes were squinted shut, dark lashes on ivory cheeks, and her breasts heaved with the exertion of her steady pounding. He bent his head to capture one perk nipple in his teeth, bit down....and was filled with the honeyed taste of her.. He came then, his cock twitching and dancing inside her, filling her with his cold seed. He cried his pleasure against the skin of her now bleeding breast, and reached between her legs to caress the center of her own pleasure. How well he knew this lithe and wriggling body, knew how to bring her over the edge with him, together with him, where she belonged...He rubbed her hardened, slippery flesh between his thumb and forefinger, until her screams joined his.... Angel had forced himself to keep his eyes open, not daring to lose his watch. He could still easily conjure the feeling of his heart falling to his feet at the sight of Drusilla, coldly, indifferently staking his lover, while he watched, helpless. But he wouldn't go there now; he wouldn't ruin this precious second, frozen in time; given to him, to them, undeserving and uninvited. Because for Angel, it was most absolutely welcome. And he knew now that it was the same for William as well. A moment not only to relive the past, but to rewrite it. To revise history and place an indelible stamp over the hurt and the rage which had eaten them all, living, dead, and undead, like a cancer. One single instant in time to find grace. Angel joined the other vampires with his own climax, but held onto human visage for the moment, content to moan his pleasure, rather than howl it, content, just this once, to keep all his demons at bay. He watched as the two recaptured their own mortal masks, and hand in hand, the three climbed out of the water, and collapsed onto the damp grass. Still, Angel kept his eyes open. On the half asleep Spike, on the cat like vision of Dru, and on the fountain, whose marble angel now poured crimson blood into the already sanguine pool. *************************************************** “That's a tad Old Testament for a good Catholic boy, ain't it Peaches?” Spike was whispering somewhere in Angels mind. He could hear it again, without hearing it. Angel
turned over in the wet grass to look at the fountain, now running red with
blood. The crimson pool spilled over the marble edges and seeped into the
earth below. The stone angel grimaced at them in the darkness,
Angel shook his head. “Im not doing that Spike,....” he answered, although his lips never moved. “Dru?” Spike turned to look for the woman who had, only moments before, he was certain, lain sleeping between the two male vampires. She was nowhere in sight. Angel
blinked slowly as the smaller man stood. He seemed to shimmer somehow,
as if he was made entirely of dancing molecules and fragments of light.
Angel shook his head and the vision cleared, but as he watched, Spikes
nude form was suddenly clothed, first in the Eighteenth century finery,
then the familiar Neo-Gothic garb. The larger vampire stared, unmoving,
as the auburn hair of his lover shifted, shrank back closer to his scalp,
and faded to a platinum blonde. The stripes of paint which had marked his
cheeks disappeared as well, replaced by the bruises Angel recalled making
himself, before this strange journey had begun. When he had loosed
((Not truly full on, you had more planned, Angelus)) Angel shivered, and tossed away the thought. He glanced down at his own form. His naked body was now covered too, by black jeans, a bulky, dark sweater, and the trademark black duster. He reached a hand to touch his spiky, short hair. Spike was looking at him intently, the blue eyes reflecting and refracting the darkness, turning to yellow glass in the moonlight. “I don't like this, Angel.” he whispered, out loud this time. Angel was relieved to hear the voice. It shattered the surreal feeling which surrounded him. He reached out a hand to touch the smaller mans face, fingertips lightly brushing the cold, soft skin. Physical. Material. Sure. Then the larger vampire nodded tersely, and glanced back to where the mansion was -- n't...... “Shit!” he muttered, grabbing for Spikes hand. “What the fucks goin' on, Sire?” Angel realized the question was mostly rhetorical. It was the only way Spike could look to him with any sort of reassurance. He would never express fears aloud. In response, Angel squeezed the slim fingers within his own tightly. “I dunno, Spike, but its not...it's not me anymore. Im not doing any of this....” Angels stomach lurched to his throat as he realized the truth. “We have to get out of here. Now.” ****************************************************************************** “Giles! I think I found it!” Willow shouted excitedly. She handed a large tome to the Watcher, who eyed it with growing excitement. “Yes- yes, this may work!” he agreed. Then his voice lowered ever so slightly. “Its very dangerous.” Xander snorted. “More dangerous than starving to death amidst chicken droppings? Cause, Im there.” Anya shrugged and patted his belly. “Not like you couldn't lose a few pounds around the middle.” Xander glared at her, and turned to Giles. “What's the what already?” The group listened intently as the older Watcher translated directions on the creation of a portal into consciousness.... ****************************************************************************** Angel kept a firm grip on his Childe's hand as they ran through what had once been the garden. Where flowers had moments ago bloomed, only brown, dusty remnants remained. The once full trees were bare, limbs twisted and decayed. The blood from the never ending fountain crawled through the ground, and everywhere it touched, the soil bubbled and disintegrated, leaving gaping holes and the stench of death. Angel looked to the sky; the moon had started its descent. He suddenly realized that until now, it had indeed stood still, as Dru had promised. But now the moon was careening through the heavens like a chariot afire, the stars flickering and burning in random patterns around it. If the pace kept up, sunrise would not be long in coming. And the mansion was gone. There would be nowhere to hide. Spike realized it the moment Angel did. He shut his eyes for a moment, panic flashing in them too quickly for a mortal to catch. “Drusilla!” he shouted, sending out voice and Bloode bond to her. Angel closed his eyes as well, and joined in the preternatural summons. Only silence met their plea. “Its no use, Will. She cut it.” Angel said. Spike ducked his head, disbelieving, guilty.... “Its not your fault, Childe, “ Angel whispered. “We have to get someplace safe.” The blond vampire looked at the crumbling earth beneath his boots, and nodded. Angel raised his brows in uneasy agreement. Underground. Deep enough where the sunlight could not reach, they could steal time... to think, to make a plan. Maybe even to survive long enough to be rescued by the mortal crew Spike had enough foresight to call upon. Angel made a mental note to thank him again for that if they lived through this. “You sure you wanna.....?” Angel gestured to the ground to finish his question, expecting and receiving a glower as a reply. Nonetheless he felt compelled to ask. The taller vampire had been buried as part of his turning. He had clawed his way from the half frozen earth and simple wood box which was his grave, to find Darla standing above the desecrated site, waiting for him. Angelus had never put Will into the earth. And although there was nothing which could harm them there, it was..... “I lived in a mausoleum, Peaches. I ain't afraid of a little bit o dirt.” Spike snorted, then asked, “You sure you're up to it? Takes some heavy majik, luv. I couldn't -- I mean, I've never done it.” Angel squelched his grin and nodded. “Yea, I think I got some kick left...for an Ol' man.” He referred back to their earlier conversation without thinking. The familiar banter was always comforting. At the moment, it was the only thing slicing through the tension, which otherwise hung thick and palatable in the stale, musky air. “Shame to mess up the jacket though.” Spike countered, and Angel finally had to give up a grin for him. “All right then, lets do it.” ****************************************************************************** “What language is that?” Xander whispered to the ex demon clutching at his hand. Anya looked nervous; that couldn't be a good sign. Shed lived this stuff for a millennium. “Its a form of Aramaic. The spell is Quaballistic in origin, “ she whispered back. Xander made believe he knew what the hell she was talking about. But he was having a hard time getting past the fact that the younger Watcher, the witch, and his girlfriend looked mildly petrified. “You're shaking, Anya”, he murmured, and tugged her closer into his embrace. “Well, you would be too if you knew *anything*.” Xander ignored the put-down in favor of the warning. “Ok, so fill me in.” “Giles is opening a door into Angels conciousness...his --” she began. But Xander cut her off. “Essence? Soul?” he finished for the red headed demon. She nodded. “If he even gets through the portal, there's no guarantee he's coming back.” Xander's mouth fell open. “You mean...he has to go *in* to Angel? Like Spike is? Only..without the...ick factor.” The girl nodded again. “Yes. He has to go in. Its the only way to alter anything. But once he's in....it's up to Angel to get them all out.. And that's not looking very likely considering,...” she waved her hand in the direction of the bloody bed, and the vampires who had been.... suspended....for almost an entire day and night. “Someone remind me why were doing this again?” Xander whispered. But Cordelia heard him. When she turned to face the boy, it took some channeling of his inner hyena not to cower at that icy glare. Suddenly he was standing in front of her hospital bed, after shed nearly died from a fall in a warehouse....And she and Oz had just caught Xander and Willow in a moment of foolish passion....And she was looking at him with the most intense and focused hatred he had ever seen in a living being. “You're doing *this* again because you've treated Angel like total shit for long enough. Your weak and stupid and jealousies have caused enough pain all around, and I for one am OVER IT. So either get with the program, or go back to doing what you're good at. Oh yea...I forgot. You don't *have* anything you're good at.” {{She shoots, she scores. Good old Cordy.}} The answer was on his tongue, really it was, something profound and scathing... But there was a whirlpool arising behind Giles suddenly, a big blue spinning light, like a cross between a hurricane and a tornado, and inside it, he could just make out darkness....earth...and sky....and as Giles continued to chant, it was getting closer to the Watcher...drawing him inside.....And there was a hideous, unearthly howl......which made the wail of the Essence Demon sound like a yapping poodle by way of comparison....And then there was Nothing. ****************************************************************************** “Angel?” Spike whispered.... “Yea?” “Where the fuck are we?” No fear. Just curiosity. The vampire was beyond fear at this point. His physical self was in LA, in Angel's apartment, his *Essence* was buried eight feet underground, and yet somehow...he was ..standing in a ...Museum..... “I hate soddin' Impressionist Art. Why Impressionist Art, you romantic poof?!” “ I dunno.” The older vampire shrugged. A dream within a dream within a.....thinking about it made his teeth hurt. The two moved to sit on a stone bench, facing the work ~The Rouen Cathedral~ by Monet. Glorious, resplendent sunlight whirled off the spires of the late nineteenth century church. Probably painted right before Angelus gained a soul.... Spike cocked his blond head. “Freaky, really. If you look at it long enough, there's a naked bird in there.” Angel grinned. “Is not.” Nonetheless, Spike watched the dark vampire cock his head at the same angle and squint slightly.... “We need to talk.” Angel said finally. Spike sighed. “You know, pet, according to Cosmo, when your lover says *we have to talk* , its always a bad sign.” {{Cosmo? Oh yea...stupid girlie magazine...Cordy leaves those laying around the office...why is Spike reading Cosmo?}} “Hey! I was neutered, chained in a bathtub, forced to live with Rupert, and then *Xander*! It was a weak moment. Sue me!.” “You could hear that? I didn't...conciously.. send that one...” Angel mused. “Well, technically, were not talking at all. Were either on the bed...or in the ground...or ...oh sod it. I dunno where the fuck we are. But the bloods doin' it. Yea, I hear everything you're thinking. Even the stuff way at the back...like ---” , the blond paused and held a hand to his forehead for dramatic emphasis. “ My my Peaches! You surprise me. You're thinking about that time in the Louvre in what was it? 1890-some...? Me and you and Dru --”, he wriggled his brows and gave Angel the trademark lascivious smirk. The dark vampire looked impressed. “Wow. Yea...yea.. I was..maybe that's why we ended up here...the demon must be snatching random images from my brain as well.... Look...the power you have now, to hear *all* of me, try to put some of it down. If you keep up that rate it'll make you crazy. Im sorry....I should have taught you this stuff before. Angelus wasn't much into sharing power.” Spike shrugged. “Whatever, pet. How do I turn the volume down?” Angel reached forward and lay his hand against Spikes cool forehead. “Just will it. Close off that part of your brain. I don't know how it works. Hell, I don't know how *we* work. It just...does.” The smaller vampire grimaced. “Now you're a bleedin' Nike commercial.” Ignoring Angels confused stare, he shut his eyes, and *willed* it...and ....holy hell. Now only Angels most focused thoughts floated across to him. Well. That was easy. And quite amusing. Angelus was a right bastard not teaching him all this. The
tall vampire smiled. “Yea, he was -- is. Anyway, *Now* we need
****************************************************************************** “What's happening?” a mortal voice in the darkness....Darkness...no, that wasn't really the correct word. It was not just darkness. It was .....absence of light. Absence of anything. The voice floated, then was sucked into the Nothing. ******************************************** “Did I hurt you?” the dark vampires voice was tremulous. The smaller man turned to meet the worried gaze. “ No, you-- he-- *you* fell over bleeding from the nose before you could do any real damage. Didn't even get to mark me again” Angel noticed the carefully avoided use of a pronoun in the last sentence. He swallowed hard. “That wouldn't have finished it, Spike.” The blond vampire shrugged. “No, I'm sure he had other plans past the tattoo.” “I did.” Angel asserted, offering up the chosen pronoun for the others interpretation. “And you would have let me do it? Just like that, no questions asked, no arguments rendered.” His voice turned up slightly on the last, as if in question. Pointless. He already knew the answer. A terse nod. “Of course.” “Why, Will?? For Godssake, why? Don't you think you deserve better than that?” A low rumble from the younger vampires chest. Small, but sufficient threat display. “Deserve?! Who the hell are you to talk about taking what you deserve?! You still don't get it, mate, do you? Two hundred fucking years and you still have no bloody clue how I feel about you? What I would --- oh fuck off!” With that, the vampire stood up abruptly, with all intents to storm away. Which was always so eloquent and effective a maneuver when one was a big, bad, black clad demon -- when he suddenly realized that that move was strategically impossible. Somehow, while the two vampires had been talking, their realm of reality had once again shifted. The entire world had been effectively narrowed down to a stone bench, a single Monet, and each other. There was simply nowhere to run. “How
you feel about me?” Angel countered, his rage and confusion clouding his
reason. On some level, he realized that their
“How you feel about me makes some difference in the way you let me treat you? You'd let me beat the shit out of you because you have *feelings* for me?” The blond shot him a look, which translated most literally into... *well, duh*. It was the consummate irony finally, that truth. Of course Spike would let him do that. He HAD let him do that. For over a hundred years. The dark haired vampires voice was subdued now. “Do you wanna know what I was gonna do, Spike? After the tattoo? Do you wanna know?” he didn't give the other man a chance to finish before he went on, the words spilling forth fast...faster...so he could not be tempted to do the easy thing, and call them back.... “Cordy made me watch this movie once. We were working on a case involving Voodoo, and she rented it, for research she said...Anyway, it was about Zombies in Haiti...pretty much stupid shit really. But there was this one scene...where the head villain is torturing the poor American hero guy....And the villain says...'I wanna hear you scream'.....” Angel lifted his eyes then, to stare into the golden visage inches away from him. The husky, hypnotic timbre of his voice was drawing the boy in, and the older vampire knew it. Did nothing to stop it... “So the guy screamed. Out of fear, I guess. And gods, I had to fix my jeans at that.....so reminiscent it was....and then the Haitian man did this thing....the American guy was tied to a wood chair, and the Haitian picked up a hammer, and a huge spike....and he says, *not good enough*” Spike met the gold eyes, stare unwavering. Angel fought the urge to slap him. Foolish Childe. Foolish to think this was erotic. Foolish to trust him. “All I could think of was how much I wanted to do this. Which was when the guy in the movie did the most amazing thing....and Cordy about vomited....but I was glued to the screen, Spike. I couldn't take my eyes off... the Haitian man pulled the bound guys pants down and nailed his fucking testicles to the wood chair with a spike. All I could think of was you, and I tried, I tried not to....and I dreamed about it for weeks anyway. And I wanted it.....And I was going to do it...and YOU WOULD HAVE FUCKING LET ME” His voice broke, finally, on the last, and he didn't know or care if it was the demon or the man howling...He would have done it, and his beautiful Childe would have *let him* do it....and for what? He was completely unprepared for Spikes reply, for the coating of calm over heated rage....”Because I *want* to belong to you. Because I cant stand myself when I don't. Because there is NOTHING without all that, and more than anything else I fear..NOTHING. When the Initiative had me, and they were torturing me, y'know, that was Ok. I could handle that. Shit, I been handling that for over two hundred lousy years, alive, or dead...don't fucking matter.” All semblance of composure lost now as the blond vampire continued, veins popping out on his neck and forehead, blue ribbons of anger. “But when they had me so I couldn't fight back...when they were putting that chip in me, and they were talking about me...like I wasn't even sodding *there*...it was like being...nothing. And then I got out and I'm *still* nothing...I cant hunt, I cant kill, I cant FEED. This damn Essence Demon didn't have to look far to find my fears, Angel, cause I'm damn well LIVING them!” Angel stared, unblinking. The tirade danced its way through his addled brain, and there was an important point there...a key actually....and living through this pretty well depended on him figuring it out, and .... --- THUD The pair of vampires fell on their duster covered rumps as the bench beneath them suddenly disappeared. ************************************* The
Watcher couldn't breathe. There were icy, vice like hands around his middle,
squeezing and compressing his lungs; his heart clenched violently in the
malevolent grip. He was pressed backward against a hard surface, his spine
crushed against the pressure, the weight of the constant spinning. He was
going to lose control of all bodily functions in a moment, he was certain
of it; and wouldn't that be embarrassing if he survived.... The G-force
was crushing his skull like a walnut. And still he couldn't
************************************** “Will yourself back, Spike. Do it now. Find me. Find me in the ground.” The voice like a thread....and the vampire followed it...grasping with both hands through the darkness that was so much more than darkness...and climbing down and down and down.... Muffled shout against the neck. Dirt in the mouth, the eyes, dirt covering the bodies. Layers upon layers of dirt. Eight feet of dark earth. Hundreds of tiny legs, whispering of boneless creatures, slithering of worms. Insects crawling between them, over them, on them, no difference in their cold unmoving forms and the dead which customarily lay here. “Its all disappearing, Angel,” even the mind-speech had a shimmering quality, an old record, worn from years of use. Soon there would be -- {{nothing}} A freight train whistle...a tornado...the sound so much like those...but louder..more ethereal...And through the bed of earth, Angel saw it...the swirling blue, like a cyclone...a holy light...and wherever it touches the {{nothing}} is extinguished... ****************************************************** Giles hovered on the edge of consciousness, watching the color and the lights dance around his limp form. Tossed like a rag doll in the hands of a rancorous giant. He could barely make out the forms which seemed to be entombed....two pale gods in a death embrace....Suggestive of Spike and them on the vampires bed, same pose...the platinum covering the shadow, seraphs and demons, statues and men....and it has been a long time the Watcher thinks, a long time since he has been overcome with such a sense of awe....and dread.... ***************************************************** “Don't
let go of me, Will”...Clawing through the dirt , carrying the weight of
his Childe effortlessly, one hand shooting up through the soil...waiting
for the burning which does not come. Faster now, large bodies shielded
by leather and cotton against the beginnings of another abnormal sunrise.
Preternatural speed toward the swirling blue light. Crackling, small hairs
standing at attention, surge and jolt, unimaginable pull. And everything
between the vampires and the fantastic sucking cyclone crumbling
“There's nothing left!” a furious shout over the wail. “We have to --” Cut
off by a nod, and a fierce hug combined with a timely lunge, throwing both
powerful bodies toward the mysterious light,
Then
there is pain. Squeezing, and pulling, and hideous spinning, and the blond
vampire is fairly certain he is going to throw up. {{Had he really said
he preferred this over *nothing*? Was it too late to change his effin'
mind? }} He cant feel Angels hand any more around his own. Cant feel anything
but the searing flames, and {{oh damn, good thing this isn't physically
real, cause that would really suck, eh mate}} And he's not going to cry,
for chrissake, like some nonce, cause Angel isn't crying...Angel
“*Here!!*” Spit out from the mouth of some giant fish, wet and cold and shivering, on the two foot square scrap of earth which is all that remains. “Why are we back here!?” “Its me. It wont let me go through....” Angel is shouting again, but it's not necessary. The answer, the blind panic, clear without words. “You go, Will. Get out of here.” All the while the wind kicking up the tiny bits of dust, soot covering black clothes and white skin until it was all the same, a dull shade of gray. What's left of the ground rumbling dangerously. Their footing uncertain, precarious. “No! No Im not leaving, you idiot! Look, maybe nothing will happen...even if the sun comes up..this isn't *real*, right? It's not physical...so maybe we wont be dusted...maybe we won't disappear with the rest, maybe --” “I'm not taking that chance with you!” Hands on his collar. “You're going without me, boy.” Laughter over the ghastly sound of stalking Death.. “Nice try. That kind of power only works cause I choose to give it to you. *When* I choose to give it to you. I bloody well don't now. I'm staying.” Rabid, yellow glare. Large hands on the collar again, futile attempt at a backward shove, boot clad feet locked firmly to the slipping earth. Vampiric strength evenly matched. In the body, in the essence. In the unwavering, animal stare. {{blink}} A show of submission. Of defeat. Angel hung his head. Then the smaller demon was in his arms suddenly, his body shaking violently with unrestrained emotion. “I lied, Angel. I lied to you! I don't fear the Nothing most of all.... It's you! What I fear most..... It's losing you.......... Don't ask me to do it.... I won't...I won't...” Angel wrapped his arms tightly around his Childe, rocking back and forth on the shrinking patch of ground, lulled in the timeless rhythm of comfort. {{Close your eyes}} The words sprang to the older mans mind, unbidden, and carefully shielded from the smaller one in his arms. {{Close your eyes}}. The words that had been harbingers of every disaster God had ever wrought upon the souled vampire. Whispered by Darla before she turned him. Cooed by her, centuries later, as she blindfolded him, and led him to his latest gift, a bound Gypsy girl. Murmured by Buffy a century after that, when she kissed him and sent him to Hell. {{Close your eyes}} It will be easier if you don't see ...... He wouldn't do that to Spike. Slowly, Angel pushed the blond back from him, his heart rending as the comfort of the embrace was ripped away. His fear was the same as his Childe's. There were so many reasons why being a vampire wasn't...natural. Perhaps the most potent of all was losing every living creature, eventually, to death. The end comes for everyone you know finally, and the demon animating the corpse just keeps walking. What was it that Will had said to him, as they stood in the alley the night Angel said his final good-byes to Buffy's lifeless body... (they die, we live forever) It was almost true. Losing everyone he had ever loved wasn't really living, was it? “It's
my deepest fear too, Will. Losing you. And I guess, in the end, I'm still
the weaker one.” He sent that in his kiss, his lips
The younger man stiffened as the meaning struck....but there was no time for retort. “Always”, Angel whispered. And Spikes eyes were open as Angel pushed him backward, into the blinding whirl of the light. ******************************************** “OW! Bloody HELL!” One naked, pissed off, soul-less vampire deposited in an ungraceful heap on the wood floor of Angels bedroom. In the center of a circle of mortals. Very confused mortals, with heads tilted to one side in the age old gesture of - “What the hell was that about?” “Man, that was cool. I didn't know vamps bounced.” “Giles! Where's Giles?!” “Where's the spinny blue light?” Spike leaped to his feet. “Sod all that. Whereas my effin' Sire?!” And in response to the unabashed stares, “Whut?!” Looking down at his own nude form. ....”Oh, well. Sorry. Didn't mean to show you up there, Harris.” Salacious grin to the ladies. “Hey....did anyone else notice --” “The silence?” “The stillness?” “The lack of chickens?” Confused and disgusted vampire grimace. “Chickens?!” ************************************************************************ Angel stared up at the sky, at the bright tendrils of blue and pink and orange creeping overhead, bringing warmth, and radiance, and certain Death. Talk about Dejavu. Well, one thing was certain. It sure as hell wasn't going to snow. The vampire comforted himself in the knowledge that his Childe was safe. He had spent years uncounted being comforted by that fact alone. When he hadn't wanted to be with the irritatingly lovable blond boy, when it was best that he wasn't, really. At least he knew he was out there somewhere..... Wreaking havoc and killing people. Angel sighed. His demon was clanging against the bars of his flesh and bones cage. Angelus was afraid of the End. Angel was not. Nope. No snow. So he was going to die, finally. With his eyes open. He watched as the first golden rays of sunshine crossed the horizon. Gods in Heaven, it was beautiful. How he had missed this. It was dazzling, and sacred, warm and life affirming, and ..... It smelled like chicken. A mortal man landed on the vampires feet. “OW! Bloody HELL!” said the mortal man. And the sunrise stopped in the sky. And the blue, spinning cyclone disappeared. And the earth grew a few feet beneath the vampire. “Giles!?” The blond vampire sat on the edge of his Sires bed, purposefully avoiding eye contact with the humans surrounding him. The prone body of Angel lay untouched and unmoved. Spike began to absently rub at the fading bloodstains which covered the dark mans skin. They had been left so long to dry into the porous flesh that they were almost a coppery brown color now. Some crazed kind of primal tattoo. It didn't take any sort of preternatural insight to interpret the actions of the rigid backed figure, who was licking his own fingers now and running them over the stained cheeks of the still unconscious man. After his initial grand entrance, he had said not one word to the group of humans. Rather, the vampire had slipped into a pair of his Sires silk boxers, and taken his place on the bed beside him. It had been fifteen minutes, and he still had not moved. Inside, he was raging. Angel had done it again. Fucking self sacrificing prick. Left him here to pick up more pieces. Who was gonna fix this shit now? Spike fiercely battled the prickling sensation behind his tired eyes. He let his face slip into its natural demonic form to avoid the disgrace of crying in front of mortals. And he held his Sire's hand in a crushing grip. The body was still here. That had to mean something. The mortals said nothing. After twenty four hours of chaos and cacophony, the apartment was now eerily silent. With the exception of Wesley, the gathered here were little more than high school students. Despite all they had faced in their short lives, some devastation simply takes more than majik to fix.. In the span of mere days they had lost Buffy, the unquestionable heart of their little family, and now it would seem their Watcher as well. Obviously the spell had gone terribly wrong. All traces of lingering subconscious fears, Essence Demons, whirlwinds, even the portal into Angels consciousness had disappeared. Along with Giles. If the spell had indeed been broken, then Giles had no way of returning to this plane. And Angel was unlikely to wake up. Ever. No one wanted to breach that notion to the vampire seated on the bed. No one had a death wish. No one was more surprised than Spike when he heard the young Watchers voice. “Right then, that's enough of this moping about. Lets make a plan.” The slight vampire turned round, prepared to make some sort of scathing reply. He was halted by the look on the Englishman's face. It was determined, and...proud. Spike blinked, certain the eyes which had been futilely battling tears were deceiving him. He could just make out the faint lines of Red paint along the bridge of the Watchers nose. He touched his own cheeks in recollection, and blinked again. When he opened his eyes, the markings had disappeared. He stared for a moment. Then the vampire nodded shortly. “Right then. Lets.” ************************************************************************ The tall vampire helped the obviously wounded mortal to his feet. “Giles?” he repeated, pulling the man to face him in the pre-dawn light. The Watcher shook himself off, and nodded. “Angel.” he stated. The vampire stared. Only Giles would stand here, saying his name politely like they were meeting for afternoon tea while the world crumbled and the..... Except the world wasn't crumbling. And Angel wasn't ..oh say, exploding into flames. He spared a glance at the sky. The heavens were completely still. “Did you-- I mean...what.....I mean...why....Giles!?” Angel would have cursed his own inarticulate babbling if he could have even formulated a thought that coherent. As it was, he just stared with his mouth open at the Englishman, who was regarding him with a mixture of curiosity and.....amusement. Giles looked amused. Angel struggled to recall the last time the Watcher had looked amused in his presence. Ok. Make that never. And...Angel tilted his head and looked hard at the mans left ear. A small hoop earring dangled from the lobe. Angel reached out and pinched the mans upper arm. Hard. “OW! Bloody hell!!” he repeated. “What do you think you're doing!?” Angel swallowed, and hoped that even though it was physically impossible for him to blush, his embarrassment would be obvious. “Im sorry. I just didn't think you were real.” “Im quite real, Angel. Real and now in- in pain, thank you very much.” He rubbed his bicep with other hand. But there was no malice in his tone. More of that amusement. {{Wow. I've been in LA way longer than I thought. Giles got mellow. And an earring. }} “And in answer to your question, un-asked as it remains, Im here to take you back home.” He grinned, and Angel saw the faint shimmer beneath the skin. A handsome, vibrant, young man. With a quick wit and a restless, annoyed glimmer in the eye. Brimming with the beginnings of untamed power. Good gods. He was almost reminiscent of William when he was still human. In that instant, Angel understood. The man standing before him was not Giles..well, it was..but it...The vampire scratched his head. He felt dizzy again. Yet, it made a perfectly fluid sense. Demons and world weary Watchers. Those who had seen too much, and lost too much. Who else would the Essence Demon target? Technically, this was Giles. The man who had loved and carefully tended to Buffy with a greater devotion than her own biological father. The man who had allowed Angel into her carefully chosen circle of trusted allies, despite knowing what he was, who he once was. The man who no doubt came to regret that decision with all his heart; utterly shattered when Angel gave way to the demon he hosted, and slaughtered Jenny. The man who still grieved for his beloved Slayer, taken from him too, and in the most hideous, violent fashion imaginable. But this man was also someone else. Angel had never really thought about it before. Giles had a demon all his own. And even though compared to Angelus, Giles' alter ego was markedly tame.... it was more than a bit unnerving. In a day full of some of the most bizarre events the two hundred year old Vampire had ever had the distinct *non*-pleasure of experiencing, he now found himself standing toe to toe with Ripper. Angel sighed. Nope. This just couldn't get any weirder. |