Buffy walks in on something mind-boggling, and our threesome get in a knockdown, drag out jealous fight, in which some old issues are raised...again...out loud.
Okay. I am Buffy, the Vampire Slayer. The Chosen One. I live on the mouth of Hell. I have seen some of the scariest, ugliest, weirdest, most horrifying things you can imagine, and hardly even blinked. I've survived nightmares far worse than anything Stephen King ever even thought of on his craziest day. I'm somehow tied by blood to not one, but two vampires, one of which is completely soulless, and has spent the majority of the time we've known each other torturing me in some way. The other has a soul, and we've spent the majority of the time we've known each other in deep, agonizing, ironic love. But we had sex once, which turned him evil and really psychotic, resulting in me being forced to run him through with a sword and condemn him to Hell. Add to all of this the fact that my friends include a pretty motley bunch of Witches, werewolves, and ex-demons, and...
I think I can safely say I've seen a lot of stuff that would turn most people's brain to mush.
So you'd think I was pretty unflappable, right? That old Buffy could walk in on pretty much any scene, no matter how utterly bizarre, without even skipping a beat, and say something like, "Huh. Anybody want pizza?"
And, I mean... it's not like I didn't know how... close they once were. I figured that one out all by myself, as a matter of fact. And I have gained a whole new understanding and appreciation of all the complexities of the Child/Sire relationship. Plus, Spike, despite all his characteristic bitching, insulting and cursing, hasn't exactly been hiding his feelings through all of this. We did all sleep together in Angel's bed last night. Spike had his arm draped protectively over him, his hand on my arm. I think it's safe to say that we're all pretty intimate, now.
So... why am I so freaked by what I'm seeing? I knew Spike was going to come up here the minute Wesley and I left to go shopping, no matter how he grumbled and sneered at me when I told him to keep an eye on Angel while we went out for a while.
But I think I missed something really important while I was gone. I knew I shouldn't have stopped at Neiman Marcus, but... it's so rare that I get to come out and do some real shopping, now that my dad is gone.
I know... "What the Hell was I doing shopping when Angel was practically dead?" Well... believe it or not, Spike is the only other per... okay, creature... that I absolutely trust with his safety. And considering all the nervous energy that's been building in me... and, yeah, sexual as well... with no opportunities to Slay...or... other things... I've got to work out my Angel-Stress somehow, you know. And for the time being, I want to avoid sleeping with Spike. Not that it's not good... it is. Really good, actually. But... there's something depressing about sobbing your way through sex, and having your partner crying right along with you, knowing that you're both heartbroken and sobbing over the same someone. Someone who's not there.
I'm digressing, I know. It's because I'm so... stunned. My brain has just completely checked out over this. I'm frozen to the spot, and that old cliche about car wrecks pops into my head. What I'm looking at is totally mind-boggling. Wrong. Insane.
But I can't look away.
It's like something straight out of a movie... something romantic and tear-jerky... soft and erotic... and it stars my two very male, very macho vampire lovers.
It's by far the most disturbing thing I've ever seen.
They must know I'm here. They must be able to smell me... hear my racing heartbeat... feel me as strongly as I feel them. Do they really not care that I'm standing here, staring at them? Or are we all so intimate now that they just take it as a matter of course that I can witness something this personal?
They're... stunning. All pale, hard muscle, limbs entwined, tousled hair... both of them so beautiful and rugged and so completely, thoroughly male...
Just for the record? Yes, I am jealous.
Spike's voice is unusually soft and gentle... sweet and resonant, each sound he makes a caress in its own right. A deep statement of love for the vampire between his legs.
"Return at night and take me,
Beloved sensation, return and take me --
When the memory of the body awakens,
And old desire again runs through the blood,"
Angel's eyes are closed, and he has a soft, peaceful smile on his lips.
"When the lips and the skin remember,
And the hands feel as if they touch again."
Spike strokes Angel's hair with his free hand, as if he's a beloved pet. His Sire has his head resting on his thigh, and his frame tucked up between his knees. The blonde vampire only stops touching him long enough to turn the page.
"Return and take me at night,
When the lips and the skin remember..."
Did I already mention how weird this is? Angel resting happily in his Childe's lap, while said Childe -- who not so long ago was a murdering fiend -- reads poetry to him from a worn leather book?
I am completely dumbstruck.
"That was beautiful," Angel says softly, not opening his eyes or moving an inch.
"Another, then?" Spike asks.
Angel's smile broadens, but he still doesn't look. "What do you think, Buffy? Should he read another?"
I think my response is something like, "Uh... urk?"
Spike looks up at me like I'm the biggest moron he's ever laid eyes on. "Dya get pepperoni?"
I'm pretty sure I manage to nod. Angel's eyes finally open and focus on me. He looks so much better... my relief almost cuts through the haze of my shock.
"Hey," he says, and pats the bed next to him. "Come sit."
I blink dumbly at him.
Spike rolls his eyes. "Aw, Christ, Slayer. Stop gawking like you walked in on us shagging or something, and come sit on the damn bed before you make Peaches cry again."
Angel smiles more. Still no teeth, but... I'm afraid either his face is going to shatter from straining all those underused muscles, or he's going to lose his soul any second.
Okay, Summers. You've had sex with them both. You've kicked their asses on numerous occasions. They've been there for you when you needed them, and shouldn't you be glad that Angel looks so happy? Just get over your idiot seizure and go sit down.
My logical brain is making perfect sense. But apparently, my mouth and body aren't listening. They're still busy staring at Spike and Angel.
"I...there's... pizza?" I mutter, and weakly hold up the Giuseppe's box like a shield.
Spike gently dislodges Angel from his lap and jumps off the bed.
I have to admit... Spike does have a really nice body. The way his black Levi's hang on his lean hips, his bare chest so pale and smooth, and... was he really just reading Angel poetry?
He approaches me, glaring down as he snatches the pizza box from my grasp. "Took you long enough. Thought Neiman Marcus closed at 6."
I just frown at him. Asshole.
Angel props himself up on one elbow and smiles at me. He's just... beautiful. Endless miles of muscle that barely show signs of the all the damage he suffered just a few days ago. He's wearing these black silk drawstring slacks, and suddenly it's... really, really hot in here...
For somebody who was out of his mind for two weeks--maybe longer--and pretty much on Final Death's doorstep just a while ago, he looks awfully comfortable and content.
I don't even want to start thinking about why. Knowing that Spike loves him as much as I do is one thing, but visuals thereof just aren't a place I'm ready to go yet. Especially considering that *I* can't go there.
"Did you get shoes?" Angel asks, nodding toward the forgotten bags in my other hand.
He might as well be speaking Swahili, because I can't seem to respond beyond holding up the bags and nodding.
Angel's smile softens. Now that look, I'm familiar with. That's his 'Silly Buffy... I love you' look. That's my smile, and seeing it makes my tension and confusion leak away like... something really leaky. I finally manage to smile back. Angel pats the bed again.
"Show me," he says, and he has that old light in his eyes -- the one he always used to get every time I arrived to see him. Or when he'd sit and listen to my babbling like I was the most fascinating creature on the face the planet. That little silver twinkle that makes those delicious chocolate orbs shine.
Oh, listen to me, with the Harlequin cliches, now.
Just for me. That look is just for me. He's here... he's alive... he's looking at me like we were never apart, and suddenly, I don't care if every vampire on the planet was in here screwing him while I was gone. It's 1997 again, and I only have abstract, distance knowledge of Angelus. Angel and I haven't been apart for more than a day, while I was at school. Life is still so simple, and nothing else exists but this swelling in my heart, and my mind-numbingly gorgeous 240-something vampire boyfriend wants to look at my new shoes.
It's like... swinging. You know, when you're pumping your legs, flying higher and higher, watching the world rush by in a blur of motion, and you're transported right back to a time when life was just one endless recess.
I'm a kid again, and I love this man with every drop of pure, child-like happiness in my soul.
That feeling washes over me. I don't even have words for it. It's become such a stranger to my life that I can barely even recognize it anymore. And I know that he is the only person in the universe who has ever given it to me. It takes me over, and the next thing I know, I'm bounding across the room, and leap onto the bed beside him. The jarring motion makes Angel wince in pain, and for a split second, my joy balloon deflates a little. But only for a second, because he recovers quickly, that beautiful smile returning like the sun peeking out from behind the clouds after a storm. I want to sing and laugh... dance... all kinds of silly, happy stuff as I dump out my bags beside him.
Angel is completely focused on my movements. He has a comment about every item I hold up for his inspection, like he actually cares about the results of my stress-induced shopping spree. "That color will look nice on you," he says, or, "You know, Rayon and Lycra are two of the 20th century's greatest inventions."
Oh... God. I'm so happy.
"Well, I can see you two girls need some time to bond, so... I'm going down to get myself a cold one. Anybody want?" Spike interrupts.
I'd forgotten he was even there, for a minute.
"Yeah," Angel replies, "I'd like some orange juice, please."
"Make that two," I add, grinning at him.
Spike rolls his eyes at me again. "Fine. Great. Your wish is my command, Master," he grumbles, and stuffs a whole slice of pizza in his mouth as he stomps out.
When he's gone, Angel looks deep into my eyes. "I'm glad you're back."
I reach up and touch his face. He feels so warm, like he's just fed, and looks almost as healthy as I've ever seen him.
"I'm glad you're feeling better," I tell him, and I mean it more than any words I've uttered before in my life.
He turns his head and presses a long, soft kiss into my palm. His eyes close as he does, and he sighs deeply, then looks at me once again.
"I missed you," he tells me, and by the depth of emotion in his voice, I don't think he means the couple of hours I was out shopping.
"I missed you too, Angel."
I definitely don't mean over the past few hours. I mean all those endless, hollow days when I never got to look into these eyes, or smell his skin, or hear his voice...
Suddenly, he's coming closer... slow motion... those shining eyes focusing on my lips. Right before our mouths touch, his gaze locks back onto mine.
It's like a storm hitting me... thunder pounding in my veins, lightning striking my every nerve. Wind roaring in my head, soothing rain in my boiling, aching blood.
Angel... kissing Angel... Angel's mouth... Angel's cool tongue... Angel's strong, gentle hands.. Angel... Angel... Angel...
He pulls away slowly, his beautiful features an agonizing mixture of love, desire, and... I don't know what else. Something more profound than anything I remember seeing there before.
"Buffy..." he whispers, his voice like a cool breeze as he caresses my face, and his eyes fill with tears. "Thank you."
Two words. But they say so much...
"Don't." I trace his lips... that jaw... those cheeks... it's like I've never looked into another pair of eyes... never touched another face..."I love you. I would never let anything happen to you, if I could help it."
A sad little smile appears on his lips. "I know. I love you too."
We lie there for a thousand heartbeats, just looking into one another's eyes. My entire body is tingling from the energy that crackles between us, and I'm certain, in that perfect moment, that I've never loved or wanted anything or anyone like I do this man. And I never will again.
That pull... that irresistible desire, draws us together, and the storm suddenly swells as Angel crushes me against him, plundering my mouth with a desperate moan. I return the sentiment with a cry... almost a sob... that is full with the pain of every moment we've spent apart. His gentle, loving hands are suddenly everywhere, devouring me, tracing my body so completely, I think he must be re-memorizing the way I feel. He cups my breasts, teasing my nipples into instant hardness, and a shivering explosion of want begins between my legs.
All my thoughts are gone. All my knowledge, memories, pain.. there's nothing left in me but love, and hunger. No... starvation. I've been wandering in a desert of nothing for a million years, and his body against me... his hands on me... his mouth... the love I can feel washing off of him and over me like a wave... a blessed oasis, at last.
(beloved sensation, come and take me...)
I belong to you, my precious Angel. I always have been, always will be yours... all yours. Only yours.
I've waited forever for this dream to come true. His kisses burning the skin of my belly... my clothes, gone... his vanished... nothing but skin separating us... It must have been magick, because I don't remember either of us taking them off one another.
(when the lips and the skin remember...)
I've never felt a fire like this before. Not with anyone else but him. One night. One night in my whole life, when I was really, truly alive. Only once have my hands truly felt skin... only once has my soft met hard in such glorious perfection...
I'm the one who's been dead. And only he can bring me back to life.
(when the memory of the body awakens...)
We roll over, and his weight is pressed against me. The only blanket that has ever made me warm.
"Buffy..." he sighs into my ear.
I shiver.
(and old desire again runs through the blood...)
"Yes... Angel..."
Yes. The way it's meant to be. Here. Now. At last.
(when the lips and the skin remember...)
"God...I want you... I want..." he gasps, his lips searing the skin of my throat. That place that always burns for him... his mark.
His. Blood. Oh, God...
"Please... Angel..."
"Ehem."
He freezes above me.
(No. It's my imagination. Ignore it. That's not Spike interrupting us. Oh, please... please, Angel... don't stop...)
He stops.
I won't open my eyes. This is not happening.
Angel quickly pulls the covers over us and rolls off me, pulling me with him, still close in his arms. His needless breath is fast... as fast as mine, and I'm dizzy with the loss of contact... I burrow into his chest.
I will not look. I will not see Spike standing there. Reality hasn't just come crashing down on us again, and I will not remember how we got here or where we've been. There is no Curse that breaks when he and I make love. And I am not crying and shaking so hard, I feel like I'm going to explode.
"Not that this isn't a lot of fun to walk in on, but... I'm not really much in the mood for Angelus' company tonight, okay?"
Oh God.
Angel sighs. "No. It's okay. You're right."
I still can't look. He sits up, pulling me up with him, his arm still locked around my shoulders. I finally open my eyes, clutching Angel and the blankets over me, and look at Spike. If he's smirking, I swear I'm going to take out all my anger and pain and frustration out by ripping his head off with my bare hands.
He's not smiling. In fact, he looks almost contrite as he sits down on the bed beside me, and lays his burdens down on the nightstand. Two glasses of orange juice, a bottle of bourbon, and an enormous cappuccino mug of steaming hot blood.
I just glare at him. I know none of this is his fault, but... DAMN IT!
"I hate you," I remind him.
"Yeah, yeah, I know," he says, and turns to Angel. "O first or OJ?"
Angel kisses the top of my head and leaves his face there, buried in my hair. "O, please."
Spike hands him the mug, and Angel gulps it down. As he does, I roll away and reach for my shirt on the floor, tug it on, and climb out from under the covers. I scoot down to the end of the bed, as far as I can get from both of them, and fight to pull myself together.
I'm so...God. I'm so full of rage and unsated want... and now, complete jealousy.
Spike gently touches my arm. "You all right, pet?"
"NO!" I scream at him, "I'M NOT ALL RIGHT! DON'T FUCKING TOUCH ME!"
He reels like I just hit him, then holds his hands up in a gesture of surrender. "Sorry. Just trying to keep everybody's limbs attached. I'm thinking a moment of perfect happiness isn't quite worth slow dismemberment."
"Fuck you," I snap.
"Buffy..." Angel's soft voice comes from behind me, "He's right."
"Fuck you too!" I sob.
Everybody just sits there for a long time, listening to me cry.
"I'm sorry," Angel says at last, "We should never have... I shouldn't have... started that."
My head snaps up, and I glare at him. "Don't you DARE! DON'T YOU *DARE* TAKE IT BACK!"
His face becomes a mask of such agony, I instantly regret my words.
Regret. Just another in a long history of them, between us. Angel's eyes tick away from mine.
There's so much anger inside of me. I'm doing exactly what I promised myself I wouldn't do... losing my temper... speaking without thinking first, because... oh, God, I hurt. And I can't stop my mouth.
"It's not FAIR!" I shout at Angel, jumping up from the bed, "You can fuck SPIKE, but you can't make love to ME?"
Spike's eyebrows shoot up in surprised amusement. "How'd you..."
"SHUT UP!" I screech at him.
He smirks a little, but obeys.
I turn my rain of fury back on Angel. "WHY!?" Some part of me that's still sane steps back and starts lecturing me that I'm the one who isn't being fair. That I should be glad that Angel is better... proud that it's me that gives him perfect happiness, not Spike. And who am I to talk anyway? But, naturally, I totally ignore that voice. "HOW IS IT OKAY FOR YOU TO BE WITH *HIM*? WHY CAN HE TOUCH YOU, MAKE YOU FEEL GOOD, AND I CAN'T??? WHY???"
Angel looks up again, and I can see frustration, disappointment, and anger easily matching my own in his expression.
"Look who's talking, Buffy! Think about what you're saying!"
I just stand there, shaking. "WHAT??"
His look is hard and hurt. "How can you judge me when you did the exact same thing?"
Oh. Right.
"I... I don't... I didn't..." There goes my speech center again.
"You didn't sleep with Spike?" Angel asks. "Funny, because I can SMELL him on you! Are you trying to tell me he wasn't... He didn't have his HANDS all over you? His filthy MOUTH?"
"HEY!" Spike objects.
"SHUT UP!" We both scream at him.
"Oh, fuck this. You two want to fight like a couple of retarded housecats, you go right ahead. I'm going to drink until I forget I shagged either of you idiots." He gets up, grabs his bourbon and stomps out, slamming the suite door behind him.
"That's none of your business!" I shout at Angel, "I'm not justifying ANYTHING I do to you!"
"So, is that a yes or a no?" He counters.
"Wait. Wait! How the Hell did this become just about me? I'm not the one who..."
Not the one who what, Buffy? Not the one who screwed Spike on Angel's kitchen table two nights ago?
"Well, you're sleeping with him too!" I finally manage.
A brilliant parry.
Angel takes a deep breath, and looks away. "That's different."
Is he KIDDING?
"How do you figure, exactly? Because you're both GUYS? Because you're both over the century mark? HOW?"
"He's my Childe," he says softly, like that explains everything. Which, if I was anywhere even close to rational right now, it would. "It's a very different kind of relationship, Buffy. Different emotions. What Spike and I share comes from... it's... hard to explain. But it has nothing to do with the way that I feel about you."
"NO? Oh, right. It's a bloodthirsty demon thing, I wouldn't understand, right? How can you DO THIS TO ME? HOW CAN YOU FUCK HIM AND THEN PUSH ME AWAY LIKE... like... trash?"
I lose my steam at that, because no matter how angry I am, even I know that I'm being a childish brat.
Angel's look darkens even further. "That's not fair, Buffy. I'm not pushing you away because I don't want you. You can't imagine how it feels to want you as badly as I do, and not even be able to touch you... Look what we almost did. That's how little control I have when I'm around you. How can you accuse me of..."
I cover my ears. Mature, huh? "STOP! STOP IT! I DON'T WANT TO HEAR ANYMORE!"
He pulls my hands away and looks hard into my face. "There is a world of difference between what I feel for Spike and what I feel for you! Two completely different kinds of love. This is why I LEFT, Buffy! If you and I finished what we just started, you'd probably be DEAD BY NOW! That doesn't happen with Spike!"
I shove him off of me, and the sight of him falling back on his rear... the way he flinches in pain, washes all my anger away.
"I don't... why... why would you?" I whisper.
Angel's still angry, and in pain now, too, because of me. And right at this moment, I can't imagine any way that I could be more miserable or ashamed.
"At least he's not my mortal enemy," he spits.
I stare at him, and something dawns on me for the first time.
"You're jealous," I observe.
He doesn't look me in the eye. "Of course I am. Damn it... this isn't what I wanted you to have. Is this the normal life you always dreamed of? Sleeping with soulless demons? And SPIKE, of all the choices? Really! It just..." he sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "It just escapes me. Why would you get into a relationship with him?"
"What gives you the right to decide what's best for me? What I should have? You always do this! You LEFT ME. Who the Hell do you think you are to keep making decisions about my life for me? Who or WHAT I sleep with isn't your concern anymore, remember? And where do you get off being such a hypocrite? You had sex with him while I was out SHOPPING!"
Now that was just dumb. I think my argument is quickly losing what little steam it might have had.
"And besides... what happened between Spike and I wasn't... a relationship, exactly..."
"No... she practically raped me right in the middle of Sunny Rest."
Angel and I look up at Spike's approach, wearing what I bet are close to matching expressions of rage. He grabs his Marlboros from the table near the door, lights one up, and stands there, staring at us. "Crazy bint chased me down, ripped all my clothes off, and jumped me right there in front of all the dead folks." He leans back against the doorjamb with a self-satisfied grin. "Was fucking great, too. I'm starting to get why you're so dotty for her."
Son of a BITCH! I'm going to rip his god damned bad bleach job head off! Like he didn't goad me into it, and then sob like a baby for Angel through the whole thing! And now he's rubbing it in his FACE? Hell, I won't have to kill him. Angel probably will!
I look at my beloved, sitting still as a stone, his face completely expressionless as he stares at his Childe.
"She sobbed like a little wimp for your noncy ass through the whole thing, too," Spike adds.
My head whips around of it's own accord, and I can almost hear my jaw hitting the floor.
"Huh," Angel says, like Spike just told him the corn crop yield was down this year, and then he turns and looks at me. "You really attacked him?"
"What? I... NO! It wasn't... I just... I didn't..."
Somebody's going to die for this scene. Right now, I'm kind of wishing it was me.
"And then we did it again on your kitchen table the other night."
Oh...Jesus. Maybe I will have to kill him, after all.
"Now, that's just rude," Angel chides us both.
"She was upset. It was my duty as the Childe of her Mate to comfort her," Spike flashes me a smirk, "Right, Pet?"
He's just being an asshole, at this point. Wait... what am I saying? He's ALWAYS AN ASSHOLE!
"*I* was upset? *I* WAS UPSET???" I screech, "*I* wasn't the one sitting there, getting drunk and crying in the dark!"
"Maybe. Ya still did me, though," he points out.
"I don't like this at all," Angel mumbles, lying back on the pillows, "It's not right."
"Not right? Too bad, poufter! You snooze, you lose, them's the rules!" Spike tells him. "She's up for grabs, mate."
I can feel Angel tense beside me. Wouldn't it be fitting if this whole nightmare ended with the two of them killing each other over me, and me dying of embarrassment and shame over it.
"She's my Mate, boy! You'd do well to remember your place!" Angel growls.
I really can't believe this is happening. I'm right back to stunned speechlessness again. What, are they going to duel now?
"Oh, BULLOCKS! Mate my white ass! What the Hell kind of Mate are you? Can't even shag her without going evil!"
Angel sits up, his voice edged with violence as he says, "I sure as HELL DON'T WANT HER SLEEPING WITH *YOU*!"
"Well, that's not your CHOICE, IS IT?"
I jump to my feet again. "What am I, you guys' fuck toy, now? Where do EITHER of you get off talking about me like I'm not sitting RIGHT HERE??? WHO THE FUCK DO EITHER OF YOU THINK YOU ARE? I fuck WHO I WANT, WHEN I WANT, AND FOR WHATEVER REASON I WANT!"
Spike takes a step toward me. Oh, yeah. Come closer, blondie. I'd love to get a piece of your ass right now.
"I want you to have something GOOD, Buffy! Something beautiful! Not his twisted idea of love!" Angel shouts.
"HEY! You hold on right there, you sanctimonious bastard! I love her just fine!"
I gape at him. "What did you just say?"
Both of them ignore me.
"What the Hell do you know about love, Spike? Huh? You don't have a SOUL! And last I heard, you were still a mass murderer!"
"Fuck you, Peaches! You know as well as I do soul's got nothin' to DO with love! At least I STAYED with my Mate when things got rough!"
"Dru? You're comparing Buffy to DRUSILLA? That's just SICK!"
"YOU WATCH YOUR MOUTH! SIRE OR NO, I'LL DUST YOU IF YOU SAY ANYTHING AGAINST HER!"
"You didn't LOVE Drusilla, Spike! You were OBSESSED with her! Believe me -- I know the difference!"
"BULLSHIT! We did just FINE taking care of each other after you ABANDONED US!"
O...kay. I think this just turned into something doesn't have much to do with me at all. In fact, they don't even notice as I wander into the dark kitchenette, plunk down at the table, and start on the pizza.
"ABANDONED YOU? I got my SOUL BACK, SPIKE! My SIRE nearly staked me! What would YOU have done, if you knew, huh? What the Hell was I supposed to do?"
"I woulda TRIED, at least! We thought you CARED ABOUT US! It was YOUR BLOODY *JOB* TO LOOK AFTER US, YOU SON OF A WHORE! YOU DON'T JUST *LEAVE* YOUR *FAMILY* WITHOUT A FUCKING *WORD*!"
I pick a piece of pepperoni off a slice and nibble it absently, and try to pretend the Undead Jerry Springer Show isn't unfolding in the next room.
What is going on, here? What's happening to us? Have we ALL gone insane? All this anger... all this love, and lust... all the things we've been keeping inside for... well, for a hundred years, at least, in Spike's case. Oh, God... When did this start? How? Was it when I slept with Spike? Or when Darla started torturing Angel? Was it before that? Is this where we've been going all along? This twisted cosmic therapy like having our guts ripped out and laid on the rug for everybody to gawk at...
"I DID TRY! I TRIED FOR *TWO YEARS* TO GET BACK TO YOU! AND WHEN I FOUND YOU, YOU WERE TOO BUSY HUNTING *SLAYERS* AND PANTING AFTER DRU TO NOTICE ANYTHING WAS AMISS!"
"Pant... PANTING! You... We had a very deep and abiding affection for one another, you fucking twit! We were all each other HAD after you just VANISHED! Do you know what that was LIKE? DO YOU? YOUR FUCKING PSYCHO-BITCH SIRE WANTED *ME* TO TAKE YOUR PLACE! AND DRU JUST CRIED ALL DAY AND ALL NIGHT FOR FUCKING *MONTHS*! Why... why didn't you... come to me? I would've helped you."
What is the point of all this? Why are we bothering to dredge up this pain? I thought we were here to help Angel, not punish him...
"What was I supposed to say? 'Sorry, Childe, but I can't be that vicious, monster you loved so much anymore, because every time I look at you or Drusilla, all I can see is all the things I've done to you... how I tortured you, used you... murdered you both...and it's like walking around with a stake in my heart'? What would you have done, Will? What would you have said? How could you have helped me?"
"I don't... I don't know!"
Neither of them are shouting anymore. Angel's voice has gone soft... wounded, and shot through with agony. Spike mumbles, then falls silent.
You know... now that I think about it... maybe this moment is exactly why Spike and I came. Maybe these ghosts need to be chased out for any of us to go on.
"I know you don't understand why I left, Spike," Angel goes on, "There was nothing else I could have done. I couldn't be close to you... live with you and lie with you... pretend to hunt with you every night, knowing... things could never be what they once were. None of it. Not me... not you and I... not our family. I had no choice but to go."
"I would have done anything for you! ANYTHING!" Spike sobs. The two of them are just out of my line of sight, but I can see them perfectly, in every painful detail, in my mind. Feel all of our suffering pounding in the too-hot air. "We could've found a way to stay together. You were all I ever had, Angelus! Ever! In life or unlife! Everything I knew about everything, I learned from being YOURS!"
Both their words rip through me, and suddenly, it's like that night all those years ago, when Angel was soulless, and I was dying of guilt over it... When we were possessed by James and Grace, and every word the ghosts said through our lips could have just as easily been from mine and Angel's hearts. Only now, Spike is speaking my lines.
He breaks down, and I hear the bed creak as Angel gets up. "You didn't learn anything from me but how to hurt. How to inflict pain and misery. How to destroy. What I gave you wasn't love, Will."
"It WAS!" He protests, "It was the only love I ever knew..."
His sobs are muffled as he falls apart. I stand up and walk out into the bedroom, and stare at them.
Should I leave? Am I part of this? Should I touch them?
Angel's eyes are closed, his voice barely a whisper. "It hurt to be around you when I got my soul back. Angelus never saw you as more than a thing. Another one of his possessions, like his suits or his paintings. But when I had my soul... when I saw you through those new eyes... saw what you truly were, and what I had turned you into... It hurt. It killed me inside to want to hold you... make love to you, and have you get down on your knees like a dog, waiting for me to beat you. All of it hurt too much... Drusilla's madness... Darla's cruelty... I couldn't stay. I couldn't do it."
And here I am, frozen again. Angel finally opens his eyes, and his teary gaze falls on me. He smiles sadly and opens his arms. I don't care why. I step into that circle of love and pain, and lean into his chest, kissing Spike's damp cheek as he hitches and cries. Angel closes his arms around us both, and holds us tight.
Willow talks a lot about sacred circles... spaces apart from normal time... a place that is no place, and everyplace... where magick happens.
We three broken beings all hold one another, and I think for the first time, I understand what she was talking about.
"I love you both," Angel whispers, pulling us closer. "I'm sorry I hurt you. I owe you so much."
Then he breaks down, too, and sobs into our hair.
It's still the strangest thing that's ever happened to me. But now, I think... maybe it's one of the most beautiful, too.
*****