DISCLAIMER: Yep, all mine. Especially Spike.
TIMELINE: Post NFA.
SUMMARY: PG. It was like fitting a square into a round hole.
WORDCOUNT: 2805
DEDICATION: For Kristi. Because she asked and then bribed
me into it.
Companion piece to Kisses
By Jove, Joss Was Right Award, Repeatable Reader's Choice at
The Potential Awards.
OLD HABITS
by Leni
It was a last second decision, of course. When had he ever done otherwise? Forget that
rumour about Angel examining his every step, he knows the truth. His life can be recounted
by those precious seconds/minutes which changed everything, always someone else's words
giving him another perspective, nudging him into a new path. Take Whistler's speech so
long ago, take Joyce, Cordelia, dead Lilah and even Illyria shortly before the end. They'd
all made him choose a new way, right there as he was still talking with them.
He'd never looked back. The possibility of finding that his choices were mistakes was too
big and too hurtful to dare turn back.
This time it had been Spike who pushed him into this. Poetic, in a twisted sort of way.
Spike had just showed up at his door, demanded entry like he always came around for a cup
of sugar and some herbal tea. Infuriating. But Angel had invited him in anyway, he'd
learned the hard way that a stubborn Spike - and lord, did Angel recognise that glint in
the blonde's eyes when he was being stubborn - was better only staked or placated. He
wasn't in the mood to dust his doorstep that evening.
Spike came in, inspecting the room curiously. Made some inane comments about the colours
and decorations, as if those decades spent together gave him any right. Of course, once
Spike had gained access into his apartment, there was no stopping him. After whistling at
the dark sheets ("Guess some things don't change, Casanova") and laughing at the
collection of toiletries under the bathroom sink ("Very manly, Angel. Do you have
customise scented soap too?" Angel had dragged him down before he looked too closely
in the shelves.), Spike had plopped down on his favourite couch, rattled the delicate
glass table as he put his feet over it, and stared at Angel with that damned curious
eyebrow quirked up.
As Angelus he'd tried to swipe off that infuriating I Know Something You Don't expression.
In Sunnydale he'd had the fleeting thought that, were it not for the soul, maybe he'd have
succeeded. Now, after three Apocalypses and countless brushes with eternal death, Angel
didn't have any illusions. Spike would forever have the power to infuriate him.
"Been a long time," the blonde said, carelessly crossing his ankles and almost
knocking a crystal figurine.
Angel shrugged. Five years, give or take, since they'd found each other miraculously alive
in the war zone that was post-Apocalypses L.A..
"Still difficult to trace, but that's you. Running from state to state, had to keep a
close eye on the newspaper to follow you."
Now that was strange. Why would Spike want to find him? Vendettas were over between them,
after a couple mutual life-saving moves in the battle, Angel had figured everything else
would stay in the past. He shook his head. Just like Spike to follow him across a
continent to prove him wrong.
The vampire chuckled, almost as if he knew Angel's thoughts. "I heard things had
changed for you, never thought I'd find this." His hand gestured to the
pristine room, the sparce decoration that had nothing in common with any of his former
residences.
Angel looked around himself. His first furnished apartment in months, the last one had
gone the way of his good intentions. A ghost which didn't want to cross to the other side
had destroyed it. Angel had been disheartened when he discovered that an exorcism without
his friends wasn't the same, maybe that was why he'd been so tempted to leave his self
imposed job half-done. But he'd done it, because that was what he needed to, then he'd
picked up the few untouched things left and dumped them in some alley. He'd thought that
it served him well for trying to live a normal life in a normal place. He should have
known that normal would never be in his agenda.
After that failure Angel had just begun again; inns, hotels and B&B's left behind.
He'd never realised there was a newspaper trail following him. But then he'd never done a
search for himself. Not physically, came the instant thought. But he should have guessed,
after all, he'd done nothing but his old job - the one that wasn't taken kindly by senior
partners - and no good deed goes unpunished. It had just taken more time than usual for
his Spike-shaped torture to arrive.
"This is a pretty place to set shop, that what you're doing?"
"I never planned to stay here," Angel answered sincerely. It had been a last
minute decision, coming back to California. But it'd fit his mood at the time. The world
had turned upside down again and returning to this state was the final spin to the irony
that was his life, a spin he could choose. It had been supposed to be just a short
stop until he figured his next step but... "I don't know." And he didn't. The
last six months had just snuck upon him when Angel wasn't looking.
Spike tsked mockingly. "Of course you are. A nest and a pretty bird coming here every
day, I just didn't believe it until now."
Oh yes, how could he forget her? Angel didn't believe it either, but Patrizia was a
stubborn woman, refusing to accept a 'no' for an answer. He hadn't cared enough to force
the situation. Most importantly, it felt good to be taken care of.
Patrizia was a spectacular woman. She didn't try to show him the world
beyond these four walls. She didn't teach him why the wacky was so normal when one is in
love. She didn't understand him and put him in his place with harsh yet always
well-meaning words. She never stuttered or lowered her eyes when he came into the room.
Come to think of it, Angel realised Patty was so spectacular for all the things she didn't
do. "You don't have the right to---"
"Don't twist your panties, Lover Boy." Spike reclined himself comfortably
against the back of the couch, the white-blonde hair in sharp contrast against the black
leather. "Think of this as a once in a lifetime thing." He smirked, regarding
Angel up and down. "Which, considering the circumstances, is a very appropriate
term."
For a second, Angel remembered how it feels to have a heart - and only one - beating so
close.
"Well, thank you, mate. For choosing a place, settled all serious and proper. It's
nice to know your next move. Or lack of it." Spike laughed and propelled himself on
his arms to rise.
The glass rattled again in protest. In that spirit, Angel protested too. "What are
you planning, Spike?"
But Angel's words arrived when his visitor was already at the door, hand wrapped around
the handle. "Going to buy some sunscreen, what else? Gotta be prepared in case
miracles come in sale these days."
Angel didn't find that funny, miracles really weren't what they were supposed to be.
Normal was not made in his size. He couldn't fight alone, not and expect to live another
day. Neither could he forget what he was supposed to do. Even his relationship with
Patrizia left a bitter taste Angel couldn't define. No, miracles were better when looked
from afar, when seen through the glass and remembering distantly how the sunlight felt on
his skin. Now he had cancer to worry about.
Before he could give Spike a piece of his mind, the vampire was talking again. "Italy
is fun this time of the year. Remember when we went? The party scene is what I most
miss." Oh yes, Angel remembered 'the party scene'. "Thought to go pay another
visit, for old times' sake." On cue, Spike's trademark I Know It But You Don't smirk
appeared. Would a fist on it do the trick?
"Why tell me?" Angel asked, genuinely curious.
Spike shrugged, already out of his apartment. "Figured it was the right thing to
do."
The door closed and Angel stood alone in his living room. He thought that Spike never
really gave a damn about 'the right thing', not when Angel was involved. Why would he...?
It was the possible answer to that question that made Angel truly afraid. Would Spike...?
Yes. Could he...? Of course. Would she...? Angel froze. Probably.
He was still wondering why that possibility terrified him by the time he'd called Patty
and told her answer machine that he'd be gone for some days, that he'd explain everything
later. Angel knew that he wouldn't - not even if he came back before their awaited weekend
at the mountains - and saw the pattern repeating again.
His last second decisions had always left a trail of confusion, hurt and half explanations
behind him. Nothing new, nothing at all, was all Angel could think as he boarded the
plane.
---
Finding her was easy. A couple tricks under his sleeve and a really helpful telephone book
were everything it took.
Entering the building where she lived proved more difficult. There was a lot of pacing
involved, several cups of dark coffee at the diner across the road. Maybe she wasn't there
anymore. His tricks were old, telephone books could be mistaken and, above all, the last
time they'd been in the same room everything was rushed and confusing and he'd just lost
his son and she'd been about to lose her town. Not their best moment, and look who's
'they'! For all he knew maybe she already regretted that last kiss.
Angel paid his tab and called a cab back to his hotel when he couldn't find a good reason
to knock at her door. Three expressos hadn't answered why he took that plane and what
stopped him from buying a ticket back to America and his hard-earned peace. He entered
into his room, firm in the idea of going back. But the memory of Spike's smugness had
followed him, taunted him and taken complete advantadge of the sudden insomnia he was
experiencing. It was that 'right thing' line, and the knowledge that Spike wouldn't do
such a thing unless he had a very good reason, that made him return. Only to drink four
capucchinos and run back to the safety that was an hotel room half across the city.
By the fifth afternoon the cycle was repeated, Angel could almost see how every patron's
eyes were fixed on him. Who is this man? they seemed to ask, the coffee here
can't be this good.
He slammed his cup on the counter and threw some bills beside it, then marched forwards
without daring to look back. If this was a mistake it'd be too big and hurt too much. He
couldn't look back.
Entering the building was too easy this time, some part of him was terrified when he found
the principal door ajar. He pushed it and quickly found the stairs. Then up and up until
the fourth floor, focus on the floor with the 403 on it and ring the bell.
Ring it!
A whole minute passed until the order went from his brain to his arm. A decision had to be
made in-between, because as soon as Angel recognised the woman opening the door, he had
stepped forward and swept her in a kiss. The only coherent thought in his head was that,
by God, he'd have a new memory of her even if she'd already chosen someone else.
But she answered the kiss, and in those seconds Angel could remember every kiss they'd
shared so long ago. A first one when he'd been so nervous as right now. The one where
she'd told him without words how much she loved him, dualities not acceptable. The ones
which had said goodbye (too many) and those greeting him hi (too precious). Those special,
secret ones under the sunlight, and the thousand questions and answers fired when they
last kissed in Sunnydale.
No wonder Angel was speechless when they got apart, then surprised when he discovered that
he'd been dragged into the apartment at some point. Or probably he'd pushed her, because
she was leaning against a wall, her arms around his neck, and he was leaning against her.
"Buffy," he said, and the word tasted funny in his tongue. Five years without
saying a name could do that, he supposed.
She smiled and loosened him until her hands were resting lightly on his shoulders, all the
while staring up at him with surprise and... Oh yes. Angel flashbacked to a
sixteen-year-old Slayer who'd had the world on her shoulders and love in her eyes, exactly
like now. He smiled too. "Where is Spike?"
She blinked and he could have hit himself. "Not here," she answered curtly and
pushed him away.
"Oh." What could he say next? The silence made Angel wonder what he was doing
here, so far from where he'd made himself a niche. He knew he'd come to see her, that much
he had silently admitted to himself even as he chickened out of the actual move. But now
she was there, right in front of him, and his usually timid words had just frozen in
fright.
With a start Angel realised he hadn't really planned this far, he had just assumed Spike
would be here to hand him back his sugar and his herbal tea and toss him back across the
ocean. That would have given him the perfect excuse to begin their vendetta again, Angel
realised suddenly, because he certainly wouldn't have left. He had been playing
cat-and-mouse with Spike for decades. This woman would have just made the game deadlier
and the victory sweeter, though Angel suspected neither he nor Spike were suicidal enough
to tell her that. But he would definitely have been ready for that scenario.
But an angry Buffy standing just meters away from him? For that Angel wasn't prepared. So
he stood right where he was, unsure if he should sit or go to her or leave. She spoke
before he could find a solution.
"He was here, shortly before you..." She glanced down and the electric light was
bright enough to see her blush. "...arrived. Then he mentioned a couple clubs he'd
discovered downtown and Dawn couldn't get ready soon enough to follow him."
"Dawn?"
Buffy shrugged, laughing softly. "Like sister, like sister." She noticed his
baffled expression. "You didn't know," she guessed. He shook his head. "And
you asked for Spike because you thought..." She laughed for real and it was his turn
to blush. Now Angel remembered that the vampire had never mentioned names. Neither had he
explained what he'd done or where he'd been in the last five years.
Buffy's fingers tapped nervously on the kitchenette counter behind her. She was studying
him, Angel could feel that. He was sure she knew he was studying her too. How different
she was, how different she wasn't. How the image he'd had of her was wrong in so
many ways and how he didn't care one bit about that.
The tapping sound stopped and she walked until she was only a couple of steps in front of
him. "We have done this already." The unyielding words broke the silence; Angel
knew there was only an answer to that.
"No, we haven't," he said confidently. It was the truth. Years had been spent
fighting their own fight, then even more years where they’d searched for themselves.
They had changed so much, it could never be the same they’d left behind, back in
Sunnydale and her high school days. The world had changed around them. Rules that had held
them back were bent, the new ones... Well, they could try to bypass those too. Together.
Angel knew this was the end of the way, he just had to convince her. "This
will be different."
Her eyes widened, unconsciously answering to the conviction of his words even when she
outwardly hesitated. "I haven't heard from you for too long."
"I know," he admitted.
"I don't even know why you're here."
"I'll tell you." He would. He'd tell her that his life wasn't normal, he knew
too much. Hers wasn't normal either, he knew it from the half-hidden weapons and heavy
books around the room. Angel would say that, for the first time in a very long time, he
thought that maybe there was a place where he'd fit. And that feeling felt good. Even
better than being taken care of.
Her voice was hopeful, even a small smile graced her lips. "Now?"
Choice made, he walked toward her and took her hand between his. There was so much lost
time already. "Now," Angel agreed. But before, he decided in the last second, he
had to kiss her one more time.
The End.
26/07/04
