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Maybe Someday. Chapter 7.
The last two chapters were ridiculously awkward to write - this one (and the one following) practically wrote itself, which was a great relief. We're leaving Buffy to get some well-earned sleep and joining our two favourite souled vamps who also might have a few 'issues' to sort out (remember that this is a sequel to 'The Summer After')...
Previous chapters here, if anyone is catching up.
Hugs (as usual) to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kathyh who picked up on the main problem in this chapter. And feedback makes me do the Numfar Dance of Joy! :)
Chapter 7
‘The place’ Spike had mentioned was indeed still there. It was a small, grubby hotel with a bar attached, as unassuming a place as could be found in all of Rome. When Angel complained, Spike pointed out that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if he’d rather go to a fancy hotel where Wolfram and Hart knew every guest before they finished checking in, that was fine! Angel sighed deeply at this and gave up.
A short, greyish demon opened the door after a prolonged period of knocking and grumped at them, but as soon as he recognised Spike he was friendliness itself. Knowing that this particular demon had an unending appetite for war-stories, Spike explained who Illyria was and the demon was fawning at her feet in seconds, obviously pleasing the God in some small way, because she decided he would be fit to worship her and hear her tales of glory.
The odd pair out of the way, Spike helped himself to all the best bottles of alcohol behind the bar and sat down at a wobbly table, pushing a glass towards Angel. He was finally beginning to convince Angel of the benefits of alcohol as a cure-all, and this seemed another perfect opportunity. He didn’t want this - didn’t want another difficult talk, but he knew that he owed Angel that much at least.
As he closed his eyes and let the whiskey’s artificial heat warm him, he could still feel Buffy’s kisses on his lips, see the look in her eyes as she whispered “Only you Spike...” and all he wanted to do was to hide away, to savour the memories over and over. His arms felt empty, his hands restless, his heart as though someone had played ping-pong with it. But he knew that he’d come out the winner, no matter that it felt like he’d just lost her all over again. So he drank and waited for his grandsire to say something.
After a lengthy period of silent drinking, Angel spoke: “So Buffy loves you.”
Spike nodded, before emptying another glass of Jack Daniels. “Yeah. I mean I knew she loved me, just not... not like that. As in the long haul guy...” He sighed and stared ahead, before he noticed Angel’s expression. “What?”
“It’s just... I thought I’d always be... well first in her heart or something.”
Spike scoffed, but then his expression suddenly changed and he looked at his grandsire, eyes narrowing. “Tell me Angel - is she first in your heart?”
There was a look of utter surprise on Angel’s face, and Spike continued. “Would you have done the deal with Wolfram & Hart to save her?”
Very slowly Angel shook his head.
Spike nodded in satisfaction. “See? You get to have a kid, I get to have Buffy... well for a few days anyway! Although if the Shanshu turns out to be yours I’d be mighty tempted to chuck in the whole Champion thing and just settle down and marry her!”
At Angel’s shocked look, he chuckled joylessly. “Well, it’s nice to dream, innit? ‘S all I’ve got left anyway.”
At this Angel poured another drink for himself, then sat up and after a moments hesitation started speaking, words slow and awkward. “Spike... there’s something I need to tell you.”
Spike looked at him warily. “Yeah? You said something like that when we were outside Buffy’s door.”
Angel took a deep unnecessary breath and downed his drink. “You know that day - the last day, when we took out the members of the Black Thorn?”
A cautious nod.
“That morning the Circle summoned me for a special meeting. They...” he swallowed, “they wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to switch sides, so they asked me to sign away my possible reward for fighting for The Powers.”
Spike stared at him wide eyed. “You signed away...”
Angel nodded tiredly. “I signed away the Shanshu. In my own blood. Which makes you the one with the destiny, just like you said.” He poured another drink. “And the universe is stable again I suppose. A side benefit.”
Spike knew that Angel was watching him. He could feel his fingers tighten their grip around the glass and forced himself to relax. No need to end up with a bleeding hand on top of everything else... He took a deep breath. The shanshu was his - hello destiny! Hello shiny, intangible reward! He looked up: “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I... I don’t know. Didn’t seem important.”
Spike could feel his temper rising, anger running through his veins like fire. He tried to keep his voice calm when he replied, but didn’t succeed very well: “Not important? This is my bloody life we’re talking about!”
Angel looked down. “Didn’t think we’d last this long, Spike. But you’re right - I should have told you.”
There was a long silence. Spike turned his glass around in his hands, observing the golden liquid within. He wasn’t even sure what he felt anymore. He could feel the demon part of him howling within, pent-up frustration begging to be released. His slightly more rational side told him to just get completely plastered. It wasn’t like there were any shortcuts when it came to prophecies... he lifted his head: “You sure that there isn’t a real Cup of Torment somewhere? I’d happily have a swig of that, if it’d hurry things along.”
Angel sighed, but Spike continued, suddenly warming to his subject: “Not that these fairy-tale things always go according to plan. You just end up with an ogre instead of Prince Charming.”
Angel now looked more puzzled than annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about Spike?”
A frown. “Did you never see Shrek?”
Angel shook his head mutely.
“Oh, you missed out! Maybe Buffy has it - and the sequel. Never did see that what with the the big battle and running for our lives!”
Angel stared at him.
Spike stared back: “What?”
“You just found out that you are the Champion destined to fight in the apocalypse, and you’re talking about a movie?”
“Why not? I’d like to beat you up, but that’s not really an option anymore, is it? What do you want me to do? Sit around wailing? Do the Snoopy dance of joy?”
Angel didn’t know what to say.
“Actually the Shrek analogy is rather apt, if I do say so myself! Of course I’m a helluva lot prettier than the green lump and Buffy could out-bitch Fiona any day, but all that opposites attract and the princess has a dark side...”
“Did you just call Buffy a bitch?” Angel asked, slowly, trying not to let his temper rise.
“Noooo, I said she could out-bitch Fiona!” Spike stopped and reconsidered. “I guess that implies some bitchiness - so, yeah, I sort of did. Why? Just because I worship the ground she walks on, doesn’t mean that I’m blind! Running hot and cold on me for years! Could go from snogging my face off to beating the crap out of me in seconds! She’s a complex little thing, is Buffy, but one thing I’ve learned is that when she gets desperate, she gets mean. Bitch doesn’t even begin to cover it. That whole: I’m the Slayer and I know best, so shut up and do as you’re told!”
Spike stopped, then continued before Angel had time to say anything. “Of course that sort of has to be taken alongside the: No one will ever love me because I’m too scared to let anyone get close. And what if they found out who I am and what I’ve done?”
He held up the glass again, the whiskey creating golden highlights an his face as he smiled. “Of course I like to think that I proved her wrong on both accounts. She seems to have gotten over most of it now anyway.”
Angel wanted to say something, but what? The woman you just described is someone I never knew? Had Buffy really changed that much? Was she so far from the girl he had fallen in love with?
Spike seemed to read his mind. “She might not have finished baking, but *I* know what flavour cookie she’ll be. Was there when most of the ingredients were mixed.” A wry smile. “Y’know for a girl as inarticulate as her, that is a very good analogy.”
“Inarticulate?”
“Please - she’s practically incapable of saying what she means - when it comes to love anyway. Although it’s amazing what a year can do.”
Angel pinched the bridge of his nose, as though in pain. “Spike - can we not talk about this? The sun is up already and I’m actually really tired. As long as you never kiss her again when I’m present, I’d rather just let the whole subject lie.”
Spike shrugged. “Whatever suits you mate. But I should probably warn you that she agreed to go on a date with me, so once we’ve found the contact I’m gonna take off.”
Angel shook his head in disbelief: “You’re going on a date?”
“Well - we never did before. Thought it’s be nice to show her a good time.”
“You slept with her, but never went on a date?” Angel’s voice sounded surprised.
Spike looked at him gloomily. “Well, we didn’t have that kind of relationship. And after I got the soul there was The First Evil which kinda ruined any romance. So I figured it’d be nice to have some happy memories in amongst all the pain. But you’re right, it’s late - we should go to bed.”
**************
It was late afternoon when they woke up. Looking through the blinds, they could see the golden sunlight falling on the buildings, creating deep shadows in the narrow streets. It was a familiar sight for Spike - he and Dru had once had this exact same room. They had stayed for a good few months, so he had observed the view many, many times. The people were differently clad and the traffic had increased considerably... but the houses were essentially the same and he suddenly felt a strange pang. One day - if he played his cards right and fought well enough, he would be walking in that sunlight. He would feel that warmth on his skin with no fear... might walk with someone (he dared not think of Buffy) pushing a pram, like the couple he could see at the far edge of the small square. He was surprised at how shaken he suddenly felt. Last night he had been too tired, too worn out after his meeting with Buffy to really take in the implications. To be human again... he thought of Anya and her many plans, trying to cram all the living she could find into one life. Actual living, not pretending. Carrying again the burdens he had once so happily left behind. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time, and he sighed deeply. Seeing Angel perusing the view, he wondered what his thoughts were. Regret? Relief?
“About the Shanshu...”
“Huh?” Angel turned, slowly tearing his eyes off the sun drenched vista.
“Are you not at all pissed off?”
Angel shrugged. “I guess. I just figured that it probably wouldn’t come my way anyway. The stuff I’ve done... not as Angelus, just me these last few years. And I had this... epiphany once. It was - it was after I slept with Darla, trying to lose my soul. You know that moment when you’ve hit rock bottom and you realise something has to change?”
Spike looked at him and nodded, eyes narrowing as he tried to conceal the effect of Angel’s words. “Yeah, I’ve had a couple of those,” he said guardedly.
“Really?” There was an odd note of expectation in Angel’s voice and Spike sighed. “Well, one of them was about my mum, but you know that. The other one...” He stopped and stared out of the window, but only saw darkness and shadows from the past.
“Ask me again why I could never love you.”
“It won't let me be a monster. And I can't be a man. I'm nothing.”
“The other one made me get my soul. And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever tell you about that!” Angel kept looking at him, but he didn’t move or change expression, so Angel continued:
“Well, if I’m not the one - if there is no bigger plan for me... if nothing I do matters, then all that matters is what I do.” He stopped, then slowly continued. “To be a champion is to live as though the world is as it should be!”
Spike nodded as another memory was revisited. “One bright shining moment.....”
“Yes. And to be honest... I’m tired of being a puppet for the Powers. For nearly ten years they’ve run my life. Sure I wasn’t doing anything with it before, but I wonder if the world mightn’t have been a better place if I wasn’t still living in the gutter somewhere. But no... they sent me a guide who showed me Buffy. Much good that did her. Then I came to LA, and they sent Doyle and his visions. Only he died and passed them onto Cordy.”
His hand on the window frame suddenly tightened, the knuckles turning white. “And after that they just kept screwing with me and everyone around me. Along with Wolfram and Hart of course. I’ll never forgive them for what they did to Darla and Cordy.”
There was old anger in his voice, deep and unchanging, and Spike cast a glance at him. Neither them was watching the view anymore.
“The only good thing I managed to preserve was Connor and it cost me my redemption and the lives of all my friends.” He turned to look at Spike. ”Don’t get me wrong - I’ll never regret it. I can’t regret it. But the price was high... I lost the shanshu a long time ago. Signing the paper was just a formality. And I guess I’m sort of glad it’s going to be you, at least this way it stays in the family.”
Spike was speechless. What had brought this on? They had been close this past summer, since the spring even, when Fred had died, sweeping their differences under the rug for the sake of the fight. And after the night in the alley... well, things had been different. Suicide pacts usually meant that you died for good - there wasn’t supposed to be a morning after. And if there was... what the hell did you do?
On to Chapter 8
Previous chapters here, if anyone is catching up.
Hugs (as usual) to
kathyh who picked up on the main problem in this chapter. And feedback makes me do the Numfar Dance of Joy! :)Chapter 7
‘The place’ Spike had mentioned was indeed still there. It was a small, grubby hotel with a bar attached, as unassuming a place as could be found in all of Rome. When Angel complained, Spike pointed out that beggars couldn’t be choosers, and if he’d rather go to a fancy hotel where Wolfram and Hart knew every guest before they finished checking in, that was fine! Angel sighed deeply at this and gave up.
A short, greyish demon opened the door after a prolonged period of knocking and grumped at them, but as soon as he recognised Spike he was friendliness itself. Knowing that this particular demon had an unending appetite for war-stories, Spike explained who Illyria was and the demon was fawning at her feet in seconds, obviously pleasing the God in some small way, because she decided he would be fit to worship her and hear her tales of glory.
The odd pair out of the way, Spike helped himself to all the best bottles of alcohol behind the bar and sat down at a wobbly table, pushing a glass towards Angel. He was finally beginning to convince Angel of the benefits of alcohol as a cure-all, and this seemed another perfect opportunity. He didn’t want this - didn’t want another difficult talk, but he knew that he owed Angel that much at least.
As he closed his eyes and let the whiskey’s artificial heat warm him, he could still feel Buffy’s kisses on his lips, see the look in her eyes as she whispered “Only you Spike...” and all he wanted to do was to hide away, to savour the memories over and over. His arms felt empty, his hands restless, his heart as though someone had played ping-pong with it. But he knew that he’d come out the winner, no matter that it felt like he’d just lost her all over again. So he drank and waited for his grandsire to say something.
After a lengthy period of silent drinking, Angel spoke: “So Buffy loves you.”
Spike nodded, before emptying another glass of Jack Daniels. “Yeah. I mean I knew she loved me, just not... not like that. As in the long haul guy...” He sighed and stared ahead, before he noticed Angel’s expression. “What?”
“It’s just... I thought I’d always be... well first in her heart or something.”
Spike scoffed, but then his expression suddenly changed and he looked at his grandsire, eyes narrowing. “Tell me Angel - is she first in your heart?”
There was a look of utter surprise on Angel’s face, and Spike continued. “Would you have done the deal with Wolfram & Hart to save her?”
Very slowly Angel shook his head.
Spike nodded in satisfaction. “See? You get to have a kid, I get to have Buffy... well for a few days anyway! Although if the Shanshu turns out to be yours I’d be mighty tempted to chuck in the whole Champion thing and just settle down and marry her!”
At Angel’s shocked look, he chuckled joylessly. “Well, it’s nice to dream, innit? ‘S all I’ve got left anyway.”
At this Angel poured another drink for himself, then sat up and after a moments hesitation started speaking, words slow and awkward. “Spike... there’s something I need to tell you.”
Spike looked at him warily. “Yeah? You said something like that when we were outside Buffy’s door.”
Angel took a deep unnecessary breath and downed his drink. “You know that day - the last day, when we took out the members of the Black Thorn?”
A cautious nod.
“That morning the Circle summoned me for a special meeting. They...” he swallowed, “they wanted to make sure that I wasn’t going to switch sides, so they asked me to sign away my possible reward for fighting for The Powers.”
Spike stared at him wide eyed. “You signed away...”
Angel nodded tiredly. “I signed away the Shanshu. In my own blood. Which makes you the one with the destiny, just like you said.” He poured another drink. “And the universe is stable again I suppose. A side benefit.”
Spike knew that Angel was watching him. He could feel his fingers tighten their grip around the glass and forced himself to relax. No need to end up with a bleeding hand on top of everything else... He took a deep breath. The shanshu was his - hello destiny! Hello shiny, intangible reward! He looked up: “Why didn’t you tell me before?”
“I... I don’t know. Didn’t seem important.”
Spike could feel his temper rising, anger running through his veins like fire. He tried to keep his voice calm when he replied, but didn’t succeed very well: “Not important? This is my bloody life we’re talking about!”
Angel looked down. “Didn’t think we’d last this long, Spike. But you’re right - I should have told you.”
There was a long silence. Spike turned his glass around in his hands, observing the golden liquid within. He wasn’t even sure what he felt anymore. He could feel the demon part of him howling within, pent-up frustration begging to be released. His slightly more rational side told him to just get completely plastered. It wasn’t like there were any shortcuts when it came to prophecies... he lifted his head: “You sure that there isn’t a real Cup of Torment somewhere? I’d happily have a swig of that, if it’d hurry things along.”
Angel sighed, but Spike continued, suddenly warming to his subject: “Not that these fairy-tale things always go according to plan. You just end up with an ogre instead of Prince Charming.”
Angel now looked more puzzled than annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about Spike?”
A frown. “Did you never see Shrek?”
Angel shook his head mutely.
“Oh, you missed out! Maybe Buffy has it - and the sequel. Never did see that what with the the big battle and running for our lives!”
Angel stared at him.
Spike stared back: “What?”
“You just found out that you are the Champion destined to fight in the apocalypse, and you’re talking about a movie?”
“Why not? I’d like to beat you up, but that’s not really an option anymore, is it? What do you want me to do? Sit around wailing? Do the Snoopy dance of joy?”
Angel didn’t know what to say.
“Actually the Shrek analogy is rather apt, if I do say so myself! Of course I’m a helluva lot prettier than the green lump and Buffy could out-bitch Fiona any day, but all that opposites attract and the princess has a dark side...”
“Did you just call Buffy a bitch?” Angel asked, slowly, trying not to let his temper rise.
“Noooo, I said she could out-bitch Fiona!” Spike stopped and reconsidered. “I guess that implies some bitchiness - so, yeah, I sort of did. Why? Just because I worship the ground she walks on, doesn’t mean that I’m blind! Running hot and cold on me for years! Could go from snogging my face off to beating the crap out of me in seconds! She’s a complex little thing, is Buffy, but one thing I’ve learned is that when she gets desperate, she gets mean. Bitch doesn’t even begin to cover it. That whole: I’m the Slayer and I know best, so shut up and do as you’re told!”
Spike stopped, then continued before Angel had time to say anything. “Of course that sort of has to be taken alongside the: No one will ever love me because I’m too scared to let anyone get close. And what if they found out who I am and what I’ve done?”
He held up the glass again, the whiskey creating golden highlights an his face as he smiled. “Of course I like to think that I proved her wrong on both accounts. She seems to have gotten over most of it now anyway.”
Angel wanted to say something, but what? The woman you just described is someone I never knew? Had Buffy really changed that much? Was she so far from the girl he had fallen in love with?
Spike seemed to read his mind. “She might not have finished baking, but *I* know what flavour cookie she’ll be. Was there when most of the ingredients were mixed.” A wry smile. “Y’know for a girl as inarticulate as her, that is a very good analogy.”
“Inarticulate?”
“Please - she’s practically incapable of saying what she means - when it comes to love anyway. Although it’s amazing what a year can do.”
Angel pinched the bridge of his nose, as though in pain. “Spike - can we not talk about this? The sun is up already and I’m actually really tired. As long as you never kiss her again when I’m present, I’d rather just let the whole subject lie.”
Spike shrugged. “Whatever suits you mate. But I should probably warn you that she agreed to go on a date with me, so once we’ve found the contact I’m gonna take off.”
Angel shook his head in disbelief: “You’re going on a date?”
“Well - we never did before. Thought it’s be nice to show her a good time.”
“You slept with her, but never went on a date?” Angel’s voice sounded surprised.
Spike looked at him gloomily. “Well, we didn’t have that kind of relationship. And after I got the soul there was The First Evil which kinda ruined any romance. So I figured it’d be nice to have some happy memories in amongst all the pain. But you’re right, it’s late - we should go to bed.”
**************
It was late afternoon when they woke up. Looking through the blinds, they could see the golden sunlight falling on the buildings, creating deep shadows in the narrow streets. It was a familiar sight for Spike - he and Dru had once had this exact same room. They had stayed for a good few months, so he had observed the view many, many times. The people were differently clad and the traffic had increased considerably... but the houses were essentially the same and he suddenly felt a strange pang. One day - if he played his cards right and fought well enough, he would be walking in that sunlight. He would feel that warmth on his skin with no fear... might walk with someone (he dared not think of Buffy) pushing a pram, like the couple he could see at the far edge of the small square. He was surprised at how shaken he suddenly felt. Last night he had been too tired, too worn out after his meeting with Buffy to really take in the implications. To be human again... he thought of Anya and her many plans, trying to cram all the living she could find into one life. Actual living, not pretending. Carrying again the burdens he had once so happily left behind. It was thrilling and terrifying at the same time, and he sighed deeply. Seeing Angel perusing the view, he wondered what his thoughts were. Regret? Relief?
“About the Shanshu...”
“Huh?” Angel turned, slowly tearing his eyes off the sun drenched vista.
“Are you not at all pissed off?”
Angel shrugged. “I guess. I just figured that it probably wouldn’t come my way anyway. The stuff I’ve done... not as Angelus, just me these last few years. And I had this... epiphany once. It was - it was after I slept with Darla, trying to lose my soul. You know that moment when you’ve hit rock bottom and you realise something has to change?”
Spike looked at him and nodded, eyes narrowing as he tried to conceal the effect of Angel’s words. “Yeah, I’ve had a couple of those,” he said guardedly.
“Really?” There was an odd note of expectation in Angel’s voice and Spike sighed. “Well, one of them was about my mum, but you know that. The other one...” He stopped and stared out of the window, but only saw darkness and shadows from the past.
“Ask me again why I could never love you.”
“It won't let me be a monster. And I can't be a man. I'm nothing.”
“The other one made me get my soul. And there’s no way in hell I’ll ever tell you about that!” Angel kept looking at him, but he didn’t move or change expression, so Angel continued:
“Well, if I’m not the one - if there is no bigger plan for me... if nothing I do matters, then all that matters is what I do.” He stopped, then slowly continued. “To be a champion is to live as though the world is as it should be!”
Spike nodded as another memory was revisited. “One bright shining moment.....”
“Yes. And to be honest... I’m tired of being a puppet for the Powers. For nearly ten years they’ve run my life. Sure I wasn’t doing anything with it before, but I wonder if the world mightn’t have been a better place if I wasn’t still living in the gutter somewhere. But no... they sent me a guide who showed me Buffy. Much good that did her. Then I came to LA, and they sent Doyle and his visions. Only he died and passed them onto Cordy.”
His hand on the window frame suddenly tightened, the knuckles turning white. “And after that they just kept screwing with me and everyone around me. Along with Wolfram and Hart of course. I’ll never forgive them for what they did to Darla and Cordy.”
There was old anger in his voice, deep and unchanging, and Spike cast a glance at him. Neither them was watching the view anymore.
“The only good thing I managed to preserve was Connor and it cost me my redemption and the lives of all my friends.” He turned to look at Spike. ”Don’t get me wrong - I’ll never regret it. I can’t regret it. But the price was high... I lost the shanshu a long time ago. Signing the paper was just a formality. And I guess I’m sort of glad it’s going to be you, at least this way it stays in the family.”
Spike was speechless. What had brought this on? They had been close this past summer, since the spring even, when Fred had died, sweeping their differences under the rug for the sake of the fight. And after the night in the alley... well, things had been different. Suicide pacts usually meant that you died for good - there wasn’t supposed to be a morning after. And if there was... what the hell did you do?
On to Chapter 8
no subject
Maybe - I'm still trying to work out a particular plot-point where he might or might not make an appearance...
if you can face it you should be OK!
Squee! Will have to indulge asap! And I don't mind Angel being an arse - he frequently is. (As a matter of fact my Angel is a tad too quiet at the moment - there will be more fall-out!) (Not well phrased, but I don't want to spoil you!)
PS. Spellchecker doesn't recognise 'arse'! Hee!