DISCLAIMER: I'm waiting for Joss to give me his toys now that he's done with
them.
TIMELINE: S2, probably before IOHEFY
SUMMARY: Denial isn't only a river in Egypt...
WORDCOUNT: 980
RATING: R-ish for some violence
Written for the Poetry challenge at Open on Sunday
Evil Award at The Dark Awards
DENIAL IN THREE ACTS
by Leni
I
Angelus had always known that Spike would walk again. If he had survived in that church,
then it was only a matter of time until he recovered the use of his legs as well. They
weren't immortal for nothing.
The proof finally came when he woke up to find Spike leaning against his doorframe, all
hostile attitude and a smirk on his lips. "Happy to see me?"
Angelus cocked an eyebrow. The challenge in that question was obvious. He wondered what
Spike's plans were now and almost sighed when he realised that the younger vampire's usual
impatience would be a problem in his careful scheme. On the other hand... yes, Angelus
liked the blonde in a wheelchair better, but he couldn't deny his pride at seeing him
already on his feet. "Depends," he answered coldly.
A lift of eyebrow showed that Spike knew what it depended on. "Oh, I'll play
nice," he assured and Angelus immediately understood that he didn't intend to. He'd
spent decades with the vampire, teaching him a couple of things along the way. The first
was that 'playing nice' was not who they were. "Status quo doesn't change just
because I'm fine," Spike continued, bowing lightly and Angelus could see the thrown
gauntlet it really was. "My house is your house."
"I see."
Spike looked at him, the smirk never leaving his voice. "Now I can finally return the
favours you've done for me. All those weeks taking care of my Dru, I guess I can't do less
than taking care of your girl."
So that was it, Angelus thought, the insubordination would begin there. He couldn't help
but chuckle at Spike's obvious plan; to take the bait or not... He shrugged mentally, if
Spike wanted to play games then it would be perfect to pass the time until the sun had
set. Angelus rose slowly from the bed, putting enough menace in his steps to warn Spike.
After all, it was no fun if Spike didn't have an edge of fear. "I said I'd do
it." he said when he was in front of the smaller vampire.
Spike laughed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat. "You can't, mate. Or
you don't want to, I really don't care." He separated himself from the doorframe,
standing straight. "I'll do it for you." He patted Angelus' arm familiarly.
Angelus looked at the offending hand and then directly into Spike's face. Spike didn't
seem to register the threat. "From a friend to another," he smiled. Angelus
smiled too, giving Spike a second of comfort before brushing his hand off and closing his
around the pale neck. The blonde gulped, knowing he'd done a mistake. "I can
and I will," Angelus told him.
"Is that so?" Spike had never known to keep his mouth closed, even when it could
buy him time. "Then why is she still alive?"
"Because I want it that way." His hand tightened around Spike's neck, making the
smaller vampire grimace.
"You are weak when it concerns her," Spike spat, damning the consequences.
Angelus threw him headfirst onto the floor. "Am I?" He asked as Spike tried to
pull himself back to his feet, the question a rethorical one.
Spike looked up just in time for his world to turn black.
The next time he opened his eyes he was back in his wheelchair, Drusilla cooing over him.
II
"I missed kissing you," Drusilla began as soon as he opened his eyes. Her hands
were trailing along the creases in the sheets, getting closer and closer to his body.
Angelus rose until he was sitting against the headboard and nodded, holding his hand to
her, an obvious invitation. As soon as she sat at his side, she edged towards him,
receiving the kisses she'd asked for.
"Like rain in autumn," she almost purred. "Each drop tainting blue my
lips."
He smiled and kissed her harder, bringing her body tighter against his. She kept murmuring
against his lips. "Too long without you, the world is askew and asks why you were
lost."
Angelus passed his fingers through her dark hair, twirling the ends around his fingers.
"I'm back," he reassured her patiently.
Drusilla looked him in the eye. "Are you? You look like you and smell like you and
mmm." She licked his chest. "Taste like you too but…" Her nails
caressed his abdomen in concentric circles. One hand escaped to knock lightly against his
forehead. "You don't think like you anymore. All your nights still whisper
'Slayer'."
Angelus pushed away, making her tumble off the bed. On the floor, Drusilla leaned on an
elbow and regarded him studiously. "Oh Angel, my angel," she whispered and
closed her eyes against his dark stare. "Tell me you don't lov---"
Her punishment that night came because good girls shouldn't tell lies.
III
They say that he's following her, that every night the Slayer doesn't make a movement
without him shadowing her every step.
Of course he does, Angelus thinks, how else would he learn about her schedule?
Nobody dares point out that he learned those patterns long ago.
They say that he protects her. They have seen him only meters behind her, only seldom
letting her see him. He watches her every battle, always ready to interrupt, and he fights
the newcomers who could have won against her.
It's the only way to protect his territory, Angelus thinks. He cannot let a dangerous
demon invade Sunnydale to challenge his authority. His word is the law and the ones who
break it pay with their lives. The Slayer is only a minor factor in it.
Nobody dares say that the Slayer is the most benefited from his actions.
They say he's not the same, that his time with the girl has infected his thoughts.
Angelus laughs and kills them all. They cannot spread lies if they are dead.
The End
04/06/04
Feedback. The muse is hungry.
