Title: Seattle
Knights: Book One: Proof of Life
Author: JINX Buffywatcher
Feedback:
Constructive comments always welcome: [email protected]
Pairing: S/A
Rating: Strong R
to maybe soft NC-17
Spoilers: Some for
season 5 of Angel but diverges to AU post Destiny
Warnings: The
usual warnings for slash, strong language, adult situations and what-not.
Disclaimer: Just
borrowing them for a bit of harmless fun. All characters, recognisable
likenesses are retained by their owner and accredited license holders.
Writer’s Notes: This
story takes place in an AU setting. Please excuse any minor discrepancies or
artist license. As always thanks are going out to GF, Myst, Salustra, Betsy,
Sweet, Luba, Mandie, and Mera my most excellent group of Beta/Editors.
Writer’s Credits: This
story features the following songs. ‘So it shall be’ by K.D. Lang. My daughter
sent me the KD Lang song and it’s lovely so I thought it would make a fitting tune
for this tale. Also used are excerpts from ‘When I’m gone’ by 3 Doors Down and
‘Push’ by Sarah McLachlan. Fans of Stargate may notice a semi-quote so kudos to
the ones that can spot it ;o). There is a special bonus track also called the
‘Fields of Athenry’ by Mary Duff and Daniel O’Donnell. It’s a lovely folk song
and if you would like to hear it you know the drill just drop me an email
asking for the song :o).
Writer’s Dedication: For
Myst, who has had a bad month so here’s an early Christmas/Birthday Gift from
Mum to her Lil bear, hope you like it. ~JINXI~
Writer Websites: JINXI’s
Archive At Shadows In A Mirror: FEVER DREAMS
JINXI’s
LiveJournal: http://www.livejournal.com/users/jinxwatcher
The Crypt: http://home.att.net/~lubakmetyk/crypt.htm#buffywatcher
Distribution: If I’ve
already been given permission to archive my work please consider it yours if
you want it. If I haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask
is that you email me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit.
Summary: Spike
leaves after the events of Destiny to make a new life for himself but that’s
difficult to do when the old one refuses to let him go. Sometimes destiny just
won’t be denied.
Prologue
The doors of the elevator close and he slumps
against the back wall, slowly sliding down it until he’s sitting on the floor. The fight
with Angel has taken more out of him than he realised and his strength has
flown. He’s grateful for the late hour as the elevator reaches the parking
level without the inconvenience of stopping to pick up anyone else sparing him
the need for embarrassing explanation or pitying glances.
He forces his muscles to obey and levers himself to
his feet and out of the elevator before the doors can close again. He slides
his hand over his duster pocket and he can feel the not insubstantial wad of
carefully folded bills that Fred gave to him. He was shocked when the petite
brunette gave him the money with a kiss on the cheek and left without a word.
He pulls it out and counts it, his eyes widening as he counts forty one hundred
dollar bills. He considers going back up to Fred’s office and returning at
least a vast portion of the money to her but as he fans open the last bill a
slender piece of paper falls out and he unfolds it.
“If it makes you feel better we’ll call this a loan
but to me it’s a gift and I’d like you to accept it as one Spike. My cost of
living expenses are covered by my contract with Wolfram & Hart and I have a
generous allowance for sundries so I don’t have much to spend my salary on and
trust me this only a small, very small fraction of my account and I’d like you
to have it. It will make me feel good to know that at least some good has come
out of working here so please take it.” Spike reads aloud quietly. “I’m not
sure if the others will have thought about your needs now that you’re corporeal
again but I’d feel better knowing you have options so please accept this, your
friend Fred.” Spike looks at the address and two phone numbers listed at the
bottom of the note and he’s touched that Fred would trust him that much.
He carefully refolds the note and the bills and
slides it into his jeans pocket and he looks around the garage and realises
that he has no idea where to go or what to do. He doesn’t belong here but does
he belong anywhere else? He knows that Buffy was lying for his benefit when she
said that she loved him in the Hellmouth, a hero’s send off. Drusilla will
never take him back, he knows that while she may have overlooked the handicap
of the chip she’d never overlook the perversity of his soul; Sire or not.
He leans weakly against a pillar, locking his legs
to prevent sliding to the ground as he had in the elevator. If his past holds
no refuge and his present holds no answers than maybe it’s time to let go of
both of them and find a new path. He looks down at the black leather that has
been both his armour and his shroud and he knows what his first move must be if
he’s going to let everything go.
He slides the coat off and carefully cradles it
across his forearms as he looks down at it. His nerves feel raw and exposed as
though he’d removed his own skin and he smiles wryly to think that maybe that’s
what he has done. He looks around and spotting the Viper he walks over and sets
the duster carefully across the hood. No one is crazy enough to touch Angel’s
favourite car; well other than him; so he knows that the coat will lie safely
until Angel finds it.
He forces himself away from the Viper and looks at
the other cars; he’ll need one to get around since his precious DeSoto went up
like a roman candle when Sunnydale imploded. He spots a racy looking SS350
Camero in mint condition. The deep red paint is the colour of freshly shed
blood and he’s sold. It takes him only a few moments to pick the door lock and
only a minute longer to pop the hood and pull the anti-theft tracking device.
He opens the door and sets it lightly on the passenger seat; he’s got an idea
of what to do with that bit of technological wizardry. A bit of rewiring and
the car starts smoothly without causing any major damage to the cherry vehicle
and he’s rolling out of the Wolfram & Hart building a lot quieter than he
entered it.
Chapter One
He glances towards the side of the road as another
road sign passes advertising some small little town like the hundreds of others
that have passed by his car windows. He’s been on the road travelling for
almost two months and he’s crossed several states only to cross back and out
again as he drives wherever takes his fancy along the back roads and small two
or one lane highways that dot the landscape. The necro-tempered glass has
turned the Camero into a rolling safe haven and he’s seen his share of lovely
sunrises and sunsets and quaint little towns you probably wouldn’t find on any
maps.
An enjoyable week long stop in Vegas was a pleasant
diversion and a profitable one, as the four thousand Fred gave him was quickly
seven hundred thousand by the end of his stay. He’s always enjoyed the edge
that being a Vampire has given in certain games of chance like Poker and
Blackjack, where his senses afford him hints of everyone’s hands. He’s never
seen anyone that’s managed to hide their excitement at having a good hand
physiologically even if they appear calm outwardly. Experience has allowed him
to read and interpret such unconscious reactions and it only heightens the
already superior empathy he seems to possess. There are few people that he
can’t read well and they are often the ones that are too busy lying to
themselves to even know where their own heads are at. Before he left the state
he stopped at a rest stop where several large interstate semi-trucks were
parked for the night, including one of the large trailers loaded with cars
awaiting delivery. It was a simple matter to climb up in the dead of night and
pick the lock on one of the trunks and secret the anti-theft tracker module
inside and get away without being seen.
He knows that if they did try to use it to find
him, they’d be chasing after first the truck and then whomever had the car he’d
hidden the tracker in and all the time he’d be safely anonymous somewhere else.
He wondered if he should contact Fred and let her know he was safe but decided
it would probably be better to wait for a while in case they were trying to
find him.
He waited until he was in
It took him the better part of two nights to
finally find what he was looking for as he entered the small back alley shop
that was far from the paths travelled by the tourists. A grizzled old man
looked up from a cluttered workbench with bits of metal and various bobs and
gadgets used to make jewellery by hand. The shop is small almost tiny no larger
than ten feet wide and fifteen feet deep. The majority of the floor space is
taken up by the small work area and two long glass and wood display cases and
smaller freestanding displays tucked here or there. The old man nods politely
but makes no move to get off his tall stool, only turning around and adjusting
the powerful light on his bench before resuming his exacting work.
He checked the display cases carefully searching
through every tray, every display, and as fate would have it he finds what he’s
looking for in the last. It is a beautiful old-fashioned cameo in the
traditional black ebony and white ivory style, fashioned into a delicate orchid
design with a tiny hummingbird frozen in time in the act of feeding. The detail
is amazing and the craftsmanship beyond compare and he knows that he’s found
what he’s been looking for.
He taps his fingertips lightly on the glass and the
shopkeeper finally leaves his exacting work, sliding off a pair of magnifying
goggle and walking to meet him at the display case. Vertically slit green eyes
meet fathomless azure as a quick exchange of words conveys his wishes.
The cameo is removed and set carefully onto a
padded black velvet pillow as the artisan wields his not inconsiderable skill
to weave an enchantment over the beautiful bit of jewellery. When the shop
keeper motions a prick of a fingertip on a razor sharp fang provides the drops
of blood his request requires and he presses the bleeding digit to the cameo.
He hisses at the rush of heat and the swift sting of pain that shoots through
his fingertip and up his arm as the shopkeeper presses down on his fingertip,
completing the spell he’s requested. The white parts of the cameo turn blood
red for a moment before fading back to white and the shopkeeper removes his
hand and nods to him and he removes his own. The shopkeeper lets his hand hover
above the cameo but is careful not to touch it again and after a moment he nods
in silent satisfaction.
The man leaves the cameo nestled on its velvet bed
while he pulls out a tray of multicoloured ribbons, each carefully laid out and
ironed to be wrinkle free. The artisan gestures towards the display silently
and it takes him only a moment to choose a slender ribbon in a soft shade of
tan that he knows will complement Fred’s skin tones without being glaring; yet neutral enough to not clash with what she’s
wearing. He carefully pulls the ribbon he’s selected away from the others, his
fingertips tracing lightly over the delicate lace edging and the artisan nods
and smiles his approval.
It is his own hand that threads
the cameo onto the ribbon and it is his hand that carefully places it into the
protectively padded jeweller’s box and closes it. Only once it’s closed does
the shopkeeper touch it, carefully placing it into a larger box that has been
carefully padded before placing more packing material on top but he doesn’t
close the box. He turns and picks up something from his work area and turns back to set it
carefully on the display case.
It is an old-fashioned quill writing set complete
with fine linen paper cards, a small pot of ink, a small rectangular wedge of red wax and a tiny oil
lamp. He’s enchanted, he hasn’t seen anything like it since he was… human. He
nods his appreciation and writes a small note to Fred in the graceful flowing
script of his youth with all of its encompassing flourishes and whorls. He
explains the gift and how to use it and thanks her for her friendship and
consideration, assuring her that he is well. He hesitates only for a second
before he signs the name ‘William’ to the bottom of the card. His human youth
comes back to him in the skill of his hands as the card square is artfully
folded into an intricately folded piece of
artwork. He picks up the tiny lamp and angles its minute flame as he runs the
wedge of sealing wax along it’s pyre and soon a pool of it has dripped down to
form a pool in the center of the folds. Setting both aside he watches carefully
as the hot wax begins to cool and when it is almost set but still pliable he
tips his hand over and presses the signet ring he always wears on his left ring
finger into the cooling mass leaving a perfect impression behind.
When it is cool he tucks it into the box, he uses
the quill to sign Fred’s full name on the envelope and lays it atop the packing
material. He folds the box closed after the artisan slips a clear sheet of
acetate in last. He holds it closed as the shopkeeper tapes it closed securely
and gestures towards the quill and then back to the box. It takes Spike only a
moment to address the box and the shopkeeper carefully places a strip of clear
packing tape over it so that it won’t blur if the package should get damp. By
the time he leaves the small shop his pocket is almost fifteen hundred dollars
lighter but it is barely a fraction of what he owes Fred for helping him. He’ll
honour her wishes by keeping the money she’s given him without trying to return
it but the gift of her friendship is an obligation that he won’t let pass
without comment. He arranges for a courier to hand-deliver the gift as he leaves
the city just in case they should try and track him down.
He criss-crosses a few more states before he finds
himself once more on the west coast but he turns north away from California and
stays to the lesser travelled smaller highways and roads. He stops for a time
in
He knows he’s passed into
“Hmmm the
He’s tall well over six feet but sleekly muscled as
opposed to being a hulking brute of a body builder type. He’s very attractive; his dark hair, eyes, and olive skin tones no doubt
due to a drop or four of Indian blood he assumes at first. He attired simply in
brown cowboy boots, well fitting tan jeans, a soft looking brown and tan pull
over sweater and a hip length brown leather jacket. He doesn’t see a badge or a
cowboy hat anywhere but he doesn’t need to see them to know that this is the
Sheriff in this semi-isolated part of the State. As he approaches closer some
details of his silent walk and other negligible factors have him reassessing
the approaching young man.
He’s within a few feet when he notices the unusual
luminosity to his eyes, as though they were drawing in and catching the
available light and his keen eyes spot the curve of a slightly pointed ear.
Nothing that outwardly detracts from his appearance or that many would notice
but then he’s not many people.
“Having some car trouble?” The man’s voice is husky
with a low purring resonance that could easily be mistaken for a faintly
foreign accent.
As he steps closer his steps falter slightly and
his eyes widen and Spike watches as his hand flies reflexively towards his hip
for a gun that isn’t there and he smiles. It’s nice to know that he can still
intimidate some people!
“There’s no need to get trigger happy, mate. You’re
in no danger from me.” He says quietly, staying relaxed and keeping his hand in
view. “Check the cooler on the front seat.” He gestures towards the unlocked
Camero. He smiles approvingly as the young man walks around to the opposite
side and leans down and keeping one eye on him at all times, leans down and
opens the ice chest and stares at bags of human blood marked as rejected and
destroyed. “As I said I’m no danger to you.”
The man looks relieved but confused as he closes
the ice chest and straightens as he quietly closes the car door. “Well that’s a
little unusual, a Vampire that chooses to feed from donated blood. Did you
break into a blood bank? I’d just love to explain this kind of bank robbing in
my reports.” The man asks with a dry wit.
“Money can buy a lot of things if the price is
right. I don’t feed from Humans, though the occasional Vampire may make the
menu now and then, the bagged stuff suits my needs. It doesn’t complain as much
either.” Spike says with a grin. “It seems I’m not the only unusual sight
around these parts though. I haven’t seen many Feryan Demons in this country,
though from the looks of you, you’re a quarter-blood.” Spike notes, surprising
the younger man. “I’ve met a few of your kind in
“You seem to know a lot.” The man says
suspiciously. “There are areas where I can hunt safely without endangering any
Humans and retreat to when I need to.” He admits.
“I’ve been around for… a while. You tend to see a
lot of things.” Spike says enigmatically.
“You’re a Master then?” The man says unsurprised.
“Since I was twenty years changed, I’m… older now…”
He replies with a half grin. “…Significantly.” He straightens from where he’s
leaning against the car and schools his features into a serious expression.
“I’m looking for somewhere to settle down, am I going to have a problem with
you?”
“If you break the law, yes but I’m willing to give
you the benefit of the doubt. Port Townsend is home to a small community of
people like us but you’re the first Vampire, the only one. I’m going to need
some assurances before I can trust you.” The man says with a brutal honesty
that Spike can’t help but respect. “I’ve got a spare room; you’ll be staying
with me until you’ve proven that you can be trusted.”
“I’m sorry Pet but that’s unacceptable.” The man
looks like he’s going to argue. “That is unless you let me pay my share of the
rent and what not of course.” The young man can’t hide his surprise. “I’m not
looking for a place to hide, Pet. I’m looking for a place to live. My name is Spike.” He holds out
his hand towards the man, daring him to accept his handshake and his
friendship.
“Gabriel Kane, pleased to meet you. Spike is a
little unusual for a name. Are you going to need legal papers?” He asks curiously,
shaking his hand. “I’ve helped some Demons get their papers.”
Spike chuckles. “My name is William Faulkner but
you can call me Spike. Money can buy a lot of things including any legal papers
I may require. I have a friend that works for a… law firm. I’ve got what I
need, Mr. Sheriff, Sir.”
“Do you mind if I see an ID?” Gabriel asks with a
grin. He leans over to look at the perfectly legal driver’s license that Spike
holds out. He grins and nods his thanks. “Well if I didn’t know you were a
Demon already, I would now.” He grins at the confused look on Spike’s face.
“I’ve never seen a human that takes a license picture that looks that good.” He
says with a chuckle. “Well it doesn’t say that your middle name is trouble but
something tells me that it is.”
Spike flips his wallet closed and slides it into
his back pocket and shrugs. “I’m not looking for trouble and if any follows me
here I can assure you that I’ll deal with it.” Spike says simply. “I’m not
asking you to trust me or accept what I say; all I need is a chance to prove
myself. Will you let me?”
“When my Grandparents came to this town, the people
here gave them a chance pretty much on trust when the prudent thing would have
been to ask them to move on. I guess it’s time my family returned the favour. I
have to ask though what makes you so different from other Vampires.”
“I choose to be and the fact that I have a soul
just makes it a little easier to choose to live contrary to my nature as a
Demon. We’re alike in that I imagine.”
“A Vampire with a soul… that’s unique.” Gabriel
says surprised.
Spike just shrugs. “It runs in the family.” He says
simply. “If I decide to stay here and you decide to trust me and let me stay, is there a nice place to
build around here?”
“You’re planning to build a house? Wouldn’t it be
simpler to rent or buy? There are some nice places around town.”
“I’ve got some rather unique requirements in a home
and it’s just easier to build a home to suit me if I’m going to stay than it
would be to adapt one to me.”
“If things work out you’re welcome to do what you
like here. I was heading to my apartment so follow me and we’ll get you settled
in and you can tell me about what’s brought you here.” Gabriel turns on his
heel and heads for his truck. He looks back at Spike and finds it difficult to
turn his eyes away. He has the feeling that his life is about to get a lot more
exciting.
Chapter Two
Spike looks out the front window of his hilltop
home. He can see the lights of Port Townsend in the distance twinkling faintly through
the evening fog. Positioned as his home is he can see well out into the bay and
he can see the glint of silver moonlight from the full moon in the distance.
The higher elevation saves them from the majority of the thick roiling fog and
only a light hazy mist betrays it’s presence outside his window.
Looking back on his past it’s hard to equate it
with his life now. As Gabriel predicted, the people of Port Townsend did
welcome him with an amazing degree of trust and warmth and for the first time,
possibly ever, he found acceptance. His relationship with Gabriel evolved as
well as they quickly became confidants and best friends. He was honoured to
stand up with Gabriel as his best man at his wedding to a lovely young
Vengeance Demon that reminded him a little of Anya.
The first year was a trial but it brought the
greatest reward. Part of the money he’d accumulated went to the purchase of a
lovely parcel of land that overlooked the town proper at Gabriel’s suggestion.
When it was time to plan his home he searched through every home plan magazine
and resource he could find until he finally admitted defeat and hired an
architect to help him design his own.
He was careful to reflect the both the town’s
Victorian architecture and the respect for the natural beauty of the forty
acres of land on which his home would sit. He wanted to build his home to blend
into the overall appearance of the town but with a minimum of disruption to the
natural beauty around him and while it cost more, it was very important to him
that where he lived reflected his own acceptance of his surroundings.
A fairly extensive finished basement would house
the Master Suite, a large luxuriously appointed master bath, a combination
library, study, and office, as well as a well appointed workout and training
room. The access stairways were carefully concealed at his insistence and
reinforced with solid steel core doors and struts hidden beneath wooden
veneers. The main level was designed along more conventional lines though the
exacting requirements for building materials remained. All of the glass is
reinforced and necro-tempered and additionally strengthened by magical wards,
thoughtfully provided by the surprisingly strong talents of the local coven.
The main level boasts another fully appointed
master suite with adjoining master bath and a
large walk-in closet. Three smaller but still spacious bedrooms share a large
bathroom while a smaller bathroom just off the kitchen provides for guests. A
large den, foyer, formal dining room, the kitchen; with its generous allotment
of space for the professional grade cooking area and appliances and large
walk-in pantry and breakfast nook; lie off the large of the great room near the
center of the house.
Beyond the breakfast nook is the entry to a
gorgeous all-season conservatory/sunroom that has been ingeniously designed.
Hidden insulation, high-tech heated glass, and sliding panels can transform the
room from a warm wooden-panelled conservatory to a crystalline prism of glass
to form a beautiful sunroom or opened entirely to create a gorgeous covered
patio. A second door leads off to a modern studio that in turn leads off to a
large walk-in storage room and beyond that to the fully enclosed two-car garage
with its attached storage room and a workshop complete with built-in tool
benches and storage. A small hall leads to an outer door and to the covered and
necro-tempered and reinforced glass and stone walkway that leads off to the
enclosed, pool, spa, and gym that lies some distance from the main house.
Due to the often inhospitable weather, the house is
extremely well-insulated and the entry, decks, and even part of the garden
boast skylight topped covers and many of the main rooms, including the
bedrooms, boast their own fireplace. It was a very expensive home to build and
more than he thought that he’d need at first but it’s the home he’s always
wanted and he could finally have.
Needing some connection to the past that didn’t
come with so much pain it’d need its own zip code, he tracked down his old
friend Clem and it didn’t take long for the loveable Demon to relocate to Port
Townsend and one of his spare rooms. It seemed a natural decision to offer
Gabriel the use of the upstairs master suite and he moved in as well not long
after that. When his Father died, no one was surprised when he offered to help
Gabriel’s Mother Leticia to move into another of the spare bedrooms as he was
unashamed of his fondness for the tough older Demon.
With some help from Letty and Gabriel he was able
to invest his money wisely into several lucrative businesses in and around Port
Townsend. His silent partnership in ‘The Belmont’, Port Townsend's last
remaining 1880's waterfront restaurant and saloon. The attached Belmont Hotel
and adjacent
Now two years later his holdings include silent
partnerships in several of the smaller and more specialized eateries and
businesses in Port Townsend including a one or two of the local wineries and a
partnership with the exclusive and exemplary supplies and paraphernalia shop
run by the local Wiccan commune. His most profitable business was a growing
real estate empire overseen by Letty’s iron hand with Clem, Gabriel, and
himself as silent partners. With her steel will and sharp mind Letty Kane was a
force to be reckoned with in business matters and if someone underestimated
her, they rarely did it a second time.
Though he was financially well off, boredom was one
thing that he couldn’t buy his way out of so when Gabriel asked him to lend his
assistance on several cases, it was a welcome respite. No one in town was
overly surprised when he just naturally fell into a job working alongside Gabe
as Port Townsend’s first and only deputized Detective. The real joy in his life
though is singing, he enjoys playing some of the smaller venues around the area
on the occasional night with little more than Gabriel, their guitars, and a
friend or two for accompaniment.
Clem found his calling as a Ferry boat captain of
all things and he currently runs a fleet of six refurbished and restored
classic ferries that services the surrounding areas. His girlfriend Maria, is
fiery Chinook Indian with a good head for business and an undeniable passion
for the loveable lug and she keeps the business thriving.
He isn’t startled by the strong arms closing around
his waist from behind. “Are you ready to go Wil?” A quiet voice purrs from
behind him as Gabriel pulls him back into an affectionate hug. “We told Deacon
we’d meet him at the club at
“Sure just let me check on Mum and I’ll grab the
guitars and meet you outside.” He replies warmly, sighing happily as Gabriel
tightens his arms in a pleasant squeeze before he lets go.
“Do you want to take the Camero or the Rover?”
Gabriel asks eagerly, loping for the front door.
“Take the Rover; we always get a better parking
space when they see you coming.” He says and they share a chuckle.
Spike makes his way to the large den that is
Letty’s favourite room in the house and knocks quietly before entering. He
smiles at the sight of the feisty older Demon holding court around a loaded
card table surrounded by a group of chattering friends all of whom greet him
fondly.
“We’re going to head out Letty; did you need
anything before we leave?” He asks warmly, rounding the table to press an
affectionate kiss between the grey and white striped cat ears that just barely
peek out of her silver streaked black hair. Letty’s half Feryan heritage has
left the distinctly feline characteristics typical of their species much more
apparent than it is in her quarter-blooded son.
“We’re fine, Sweetling but could you ask Clem if he
can stop by the all-night bakery and pick us up some pastries on his way home?”
“I’ll do that, Pretty Momma.” He presses another
fond kiss between her cute ears and straightens. “I’ll set the alarm on my way
out. Have a nice night ladies.” He says warmly as he makes his way out of the
room after running the gauntlet of fond hugs and playful gropes from her
spirited poker buddies.
“You’re one lucky bitch Letty; you get to live with
the two most handsome men in Port Townsend and that sweetheart Clem. I hate
you!”
“I keep hoping that bum son of mine would wise up
and see what’s under his nose but he’s still hung up on that whippersnapper
Deacon fellow. What he sees in that beanpole human I’ll never know when he’s
got that yummy Vampire goodness living one floor down.” Letty says in disgust.
He closes the door on that comment and chuckles.
Letty’s matchmaking efforts have been legendary, even though he knows that she
secretly adores Deacon and approves of Gabriel’s choice in a partner.
He stops by one of the hall closets and retrieves
two guitar cases before heading for the front door. A quick pause to set the
alarm and to lock the door and he runs lightly down the steps to the waiting
Range Rover and Gabriel.
Chapter Three
The drive down to the city and through the quiet
streets is a pleasant one for Spike as he tunes his guitar as Gabriel handles
the driving with an easy skill. There are quite a few vehicles and passengers
already lining up to board the docked ferry but Clem’s deckhands are an
efficient bunch and soon the cars are neatly loaded and the passengers have
been guided onboard to the various passenger lounges. They’re the last to board
before departure and like many of the passengers they leave their truck for the
warmth and camaraderie of the passenger lounges. Spike hands Gabriel his guitar
case as the pair wave to one of the crew who ushers them through a roped off doorway
with a smile.
“Hey there guys!” Clem welcomes them with a warm
smile, the wheel of the ferry rock steady in his strong taloned hands. “You
brought your guitars, great! Would you sing my favourite song for me?”
Spike smiles and pats Clem’s shoulder. “It’s the
least we can do since you let us ride for free.” He says affectionately. “We’ll
get set up in the forward lounge. Give us about ten minutes before you make the
announcement Mate.”
“Sure thing, Spike.” Clem says perkily.
It takes them only a few moments to set up in a
small corner of the largest lounge and they play some warm up songs that
attract a quietly appreciative audience. After Clem uses the PA system to make
the announcement of the impromptu live music, the lounge quietly fills with talk,
laughter, and music.
Spike lets his mind drift, his hands and voice know
what to do without direction from him. He glances over at Gabriel and smiles at
his friend’s joie de vivre, that nebulous quality that draws smiles from almost
everyone he meets. Gabriel is the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome man
but unlike some very attractive people, his insides are just as lovely as the
outsides.
The simple dark brown suede boots, well-worn blue
jeans, the simple elegance of a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back
to his elbows and a brown suede jacket are typical of Gabe’s fashion sense. As
he looks at him Spike has to admit that his style suits his simple and
non-complicated lifestyle and that it makes him look imminently shag-able well that’s
just a bonus. He grew up in Port Townsend’s sheltering grace and his simple
regard for life, fashion, and the things that make him who he is all stem from
that lucky upbringing.
He looks down at his own black leather boots and
jeans, letting his eyes rove up his chest and the dark blue cashmere sweater
that was a handmade gift from Letty. Beneath the luxurious knit is a simple
sleeveless black t-shirt and everything is topped by a fairly new black leather
aviator’s jacket. He may not be living in a place where every night is a fight
but he just can’t stop dressing with that possibility in mind. You can take the
fighter out of the city but not it seems out of his wardrobe. The flash of
light catches his eye as his hand flutters along a complicated chord and he’s
glad that his singing has prevented the sigh wanting to escape from his throat.
The crest of the Aurelius Order winks back at him
from the antique silver ring, placed on his finger by Angelus long ago as a
mark of his pride at his young Masters-ship. He had yet to hear of any Vampire
achieving it at an age younger than his own scant twenty years and as much as
Angelus saw him as a rival; it was also a point of pride between them. He has
changed his life in some remarkable ways but the ring that was the symbol of a
lost Grand-Sire’s pride; that is one thing he’s chosen to keep from his past.
He smiles knowing that few people that knew him
once would recognize him now. He’s gained some weight in the form of increased
muscle mass and he wears it well but the svelte and lithe lines of his body are
little changed. Gabe
and Deacon swear he looks good with the additional definition of the added
muscle. His blatantly pale hair has given way to the reddish gold streaked
tawny brown of his Human youth and he’s let it grow out until it waves lightly
at the top but the sides and back taper neatly in an expertly coiffed haircut
that requires little maintenance on his part. The gothic edge he’s sported for
years has softened somewhat but the simply stylized
Perhaps the biggest changes are the ones that can’t
be seen with the naked eye though. The lithe and graceful power of his body has
changed very little but the restlessness that refused to let him be still has
faded to a large degree. The feeling that he’s been searching for something or
that something is missing or forgotten has also faded despite the constantly
roving eyes that seem to be searching for something that they never find, he is
content.
He knows he owes more than a little of his hard won
focus and clarity to the calming influence of Letty and the meditation
exercises she insists that her ‘boys’ practice every night. His fighting and
physical skills are better than ever thanks to his daily training regiment with
Gabriel, who while not quite as strong or invulnerable, is far more capable
than a human sparring partner. They’ve taken the best of each other’s styles
and made it their own, incorporating it into their already formidable pool of
skills. He has little doubt that Gabriel could take on a Slayer and not only
hold his own but win with the skills and techniques he’s learned from him. From
Gabriel he’s learned more than he has from any other single person in his life,
his acrobatic skill, speed, endurance, and agility have increased due to his
tutelage. It may be overkill for a relatively small town Sheriff and a
part-time ‘official’ Detective but better to overkill than to be killed. Besides they’ve found use for
their skills before on their outings to
They play for the length of the ferry trip,
thanking the passengers with a smile and a nod as several set some money down
in one of the open guitar cases. They end the impromptu performance when
they’re ten minutes from dock to give everyone time to get ready to disembark.
Gabriel carefully collects the money and counts it
with a smile. “Sixty-two dollars, not bad for a little ferry trip.” He says
pleased, carefully portioning out the money and arranging it by denomination
and smoothing it out neatly as Spike kneels beside him to pack up his guitar
for him. “Thanks, Wil. We’ve got enough to buy twelve rooms at the hostel.”
“We’ll drop it off at the shelter on the way to the
Fenix, Maggie and Louis can distribute it however it’d be best spent I’m sure.”
Spike digs into his pocket and pulls out his wallet and adds a twenty dollar
bill of his own with a self-conscious shrug as Gabriel grins at him. He hides
his own smile as he watches his friend surreptiously slip in his own
contribution.
Neither of them needs the money from their low-key
concerts so they always find a way to donate it to people that do. Maybe with
their help a few more people won’t have to sleep out in the snow tonight and
can have a hot meal and a safe place to rest.
Gabriel
rises gracefully to his feet and reaches down and easily lifts Spike to his
feet. Neither of them thinks that there’s anything strange about holding hands
and heading back to the truck after a quick stop by the bridge to thank Clem
for the ride.
Spike carefully stows their guitars in the back and
hops into the passenger seat as Gabriel starts the car. Their timing is
excellent as they’re waiting only a couple of minutes before a crew member
waves them forward and they smoothly disembark and head into the city.
Chapter Four
After a stop at a local homeless shelter to drop
off their donation, they drive over to the club where they’re meeting up with
Gabriel’s boyfriend Deacon and some of their friends. The Fenix Underground is
one of the more popular clubs in town, featuring several levels and attractions
all under one roof.
Spike glances at the dashboard clock. “We’re half
an hour early, want to go in or head over to the coffeehouse for a drink
first?”
“I vote for the drink before I freeze solid.”
Gabriel says with a theatrically exaggerated shiver.
“Park the car before they mistake you for Harrison Ford
and we get mobbed.” Spike says dryly, rolling his eyes as Gabe grins.
While the nightclub is very popular the mid-winter
weather has no doubt driven some to stay inside and they find a parking space
easily. Spike hops out and goes around back and carefully covers their guitar
cases with a thick thermal blanket before Gabriel locks the truck and activates
the alarm. Spike starts down the sidewalk, not alarmed as his friend jogs up
beside him to lay an arm across his shoulders and squeeze him affectionately.
Spike slips his arm around Gabriel’s waist as they walk towards a busy
coffeehouse a block down, talking quietly.
It was Gabe’s willingness to reach out to him, to
want to touch him affectionately, and his unabashed enjoyment at the simple
pleasures to be had in his company that first broke through the arrogantly
brash manner that was his defence against the world. Unknown to Letty; or
perhaps not, she is a shrewd old lady; he did have a brief relationship with
Gabriel and later even a night or two with Gabriel and Deacon but as much as he
cares for his dear friend there is a part of him that only two people have
honestly touched. While the marks of those fleeting nights still surface in
their ease together and the strength of the connection between them, they are
content in their friendship.
The coffeehouse is packed to the rafters with
patrons eager to take shelter from the cold winter night and partake of the
cornucopia of beverages they offer. Spike pauses just inside his instincts
prickling the back of his neck and his keen eyes sweep over the customers. He
doesn’t see anything amiss other than a few Demons here or there and they seem peaceful enough but he can’t get over
the niggling feeling at the base of his spine that there’s something right at
the edge of his senses that’s eluding him.
“Are you alright?” Gabriel asks quietly, noticing
his best friend’s preoccupation.
“Let’s get the drinks and head back to club.” Spike
says quietly, his eyes still roving restlessly over the crowded shop’s patrons.
He doesn’t want to look like a paranoid loser feeling jumpy about shadowy
‘feelings.’
“Sure, that suits me, it’s a little too crowded in
here tonight anyway.” Gabriel agrees, tightening his arm around his shorter
friend and pulling him closer. He doesn’t need Spike to tell him he feels
uneasy when he can clearly see that he is and feel it in how he leans his
weight into his side.
They move into the order line and wait the tense
few minutes to work their way up to the counter.
“I’ll have a large double cocoa, half milk
chocolate and half bittersweet with a splash of Hazelnut creamer and nuts
instead of the caramel swirl on my whip cream please.” Spike orders his usual.
“I’ll have the same but I’ll have the caramel swirl
instead of the nuts and we’ll take a double Mocha fully loaded with the works
too.” Gabriel orders. “If we don’t bring one for Deacon he’ll attack us for
ours.” He says with a grin, giving Spike a vexed look as he pays for their
drinks before he has a chance. “Smooth but I’m
getting the cover charge at the club then.” He says implacably. “Deacon can buy
the food.” He winks saucily.
“We’d better hope that Paul decided to stay home
then or Deacon’s going home broke.” Spike replies with a snicker that has
Gabriel chuckling and aiming a playful swipe at the back of his head.
They pick up their drinks and start to head for the
door and their eyes widen at the long line of people and the possibilities of
wading through them without spilling.
“I don’t suppose you could… ya know… go all growl’y
and get us through the crowd…?” Gabriel asks with a grin.
“Pet, I think at least a quarter of this crowd will
growl back.” Spike says with a shake
of his head. He spies an opening through the crowd and dives through reaching
the door with dramatic flourish and a laugh while Gabriel scowls and swears at
him good naturedly.
“You’re a pain in the ass Spike!” Gabriel calls out
playfully as he muscles his way through the crowd and out onto the street.
“Don’t blame me for the fact you’re taller than some
buildings, Pet!” Spike calls back cheering on his beleaguered friend. “Could
you get a move on King Kong, I wanna dance!?!”
“We can’t all be the size of a flea or a tick!”
Gabriel jokes back.
“Ohhh Pet you’re making blood sucking references,
oh be still my heart!” Spike moans theatrically, clutching his chest and
pantomiming at being a love-struck suitor. He darts down the street as Gabriel
finally fights his way through the crowd and growls menacingly, chasing after
his wildly laughing friend.
Neither notices the dark eyes staring after them
with laser-like focus as a muscular form starts to swim through the crowd in
pursuit, reaching out and grabbing a confused man from the order line and
dragging him along.
Chapter Five
Wesley stares at the silent presence at his side
and he shivers but he’s not sure if it’s from the cold or the deadly gleam in
Angel’s golden chocolate eyes. They’ve been standing in this abominable line
for over an hour, surrounded by people of all ages and in all manners of outrageous
costumes and outfits. It seems that every time he looks around someone more
outrageous and outlandish has appeared. The bouncers patrol the line endlessly,
occasionally pulling out a familiar face or twelve and sending them to the
door, ‘regulars’ no doubt. He huddles into his jacket, cursing the thin,
ineffectual nylon and tries not to feel like the last man chosen for a rugby
team and the boobie prize for whatever team gets stuck with him as they’re
passed over time and again.
“Angel, no offence but what in the bloody hell are
we doing standing in line for this monstrosity? Our plane is supposed to leave
in another hour and it will take us that long to stop by the hotel, get our
things, and get to the airport. We’ve got the Pendaric Chronicles that we came
for, let’s go home.”
“I told you Wes, we’re not leaving until I know.” Angel says flatly.
“It’s been two years Angel, what does it matter if
that was Spike or not? You wanted him
to go remember?” Wesley points out.
“I’m not leaving here until I find out if that was
Spike or not, Wes so drop it.” Angel growls.
“You’re friends of Spike?” Their conversation has
caught the ear of one of the patrolling doormen.
Angel and Wes turn their heads to look at one of
the doormen/bouncers that have been walking the line, keeping things orderly.
“Yes we’re very, very old friends.” Angel says putting on his most charming and
intimidating manners. “We’ve known each other just for ages.” He stresses the inflections hoping that the man will pick up
on his hidden meaning and understand it, if he knows Spike.
The beefy bruiser of a man looks at them carefully
and nods as though he’s decided something and he unclips the velvet ropes.
“Come with me.” He gestures for them to leave the line and follow him towards the
front door. “This is a no feed zone, keep your fangs to yourself and you won’t
have any trouble with security. The bar is set up to service your… kind… so
just ask for the house red and they’ll know what you’re talking about.” The man
quietly intones, keeping his voice low and circumspect.
The man leads them to the head of the line and
motions to his co-worker manning the door. “These guys are friends of Spike’s
Dozer. Let em in.”
The mountain of flesh that makes up a man nods and
opens the door waving them through. “Go through the doorway on the left for the
box office unless you have one of our V.I.P. passes in which case you can go
straight in.” The massive man rumbles and they can see why he’s got the
nickname that he does.
Angel grabs Wes; who’s frozen in place staring up
at the massively built bouncer with his mouth open; and pulls him inside
shoving him not too gently to the left.
“I can’t believe this… next time I want a coffee
just say no!” Wes mutters as Angel manhandles him with no little roughness. “We
don’t even know that it was him!”
“We’re not going to find out for sure either at
this rate!” Angel’s lips curls into a snarl and he strides for the ticket
windows. The dark expression on his face manages to get them to the head of the
line fairly quickly as several very wise people quickly change lines to get out
of his way.
“Welcome to the Fenix gentlemen, first visit?” A
neatly dressed young man greets them from behind the glass and iron cage of the
ticket office.
“It most certainly is.” Wes mutters, looking around
at the flashy dance club/live music venue. It’s almost enough to make him wish
he was still outside in the cold.
“Well, you’re here on a good night, the Misfits are
playing tonight. Tickets are forty dollars and that
includes two free drinks and appetizer for each of you as well as entrance to
all venues.”
Angel pays the man while Wes grumbles over the
outrageous price and they obligingly follow the man’s instructions and put
their right hands under the slot. Slender wristbands are skilfully set in place
with the economy of motion that only comes from a lot of repetition.
“If you’ll follow the hallway around to the right,
you’ll have to check your coats and pass through the metal detectors and the
doors at the end will take you into the club. Have a nice time.” The man says
with a sunny smile.
Angel strides off with a whish of his knee length
leather coat and a great white shark on the hunt could hardly looking any more
intimidating than the powerful Vampire in that moment.
Wesley
follows him still muttering darkly about this fool’s errand. Ever since the
realisation that Spike had left LA, Angel has been hell to live with and since
it’s been almost two years, that’s a lot of hell. They’ve all felt the stinging
reality of dealing with an Angel gone madly furious. Lorne was the first to go,
deciding to leave LA and open a lounge in
Wesley curses foully and scrambles to his feet,
shooting some black looks at some of the laughing looks aimed at him and steps
around Angel and stares. The multi-level dance floor is wall to wall motion as
a sea of dancing bodies forms a barrier that not even Moses would find easy to
part and impeding their progress to the other side.
“We could just walk around….” Wes says turning to
glance at Angel but his voice trails off as he stares at Angel who is staring
out into the crowd with a fixed expression that sends shivers down his spine.
The only time he’s seen a look even half that dark, it was right before some
unfortunate Demon ends up dead… probably in little pieces. He follows his eyes
to a table across the way and finds that he’s staring a very shapely leather
clad rear.
The man is leaning over the back of one of the
booth seats, and the pants leave no doubt that it’s a male, talking to several of
the animated patrons sharing the table. He’s swaying to the beat of the music,
dancing in place in a display as enthralling as any hypnotist’s pendulum. A
glass of red wine bumps loosely against one thigh, held securely from the top
in one strong hand as the other waves, gesticulating wildly on some point
energetically as the people at the table laugh.
Wes leans forward straining to get a closer look,
he may not have a Vampire’s superior eye sight but even he can see that the man
Angel has his attention riveted on has darker hair and is more muscular than
Spike is. “Who is he; do you know him?”
Angel doesn’t answer, his voice lost to the
millimetre by millimetre perusal of his Grand-childe. There isn’t a single
doubt in his mind, changes aside, that he’s looking at Spike… his Spike. His
eyes narrow as the good looking man from the coffeehouse jogs up the steps from
the dance floor his arm wrapped around another man whose chest is heaving with
exertion. The other man collapses weakly into the booth amidst laughter and
friendly back slaps, while the ape leans over the booth mimicking Spike’s
posture and looking entirely too chummy for his peace of mind. Spike’s never
really been known for his sterling taste in companions, the last ones having
left him to incinerate in the Hellmouth alone.
As he’s
watching the tall ape from the coffeehouse straightens and notions toward the
dance floor but the man that collapsed into the booth starts laughing and
throwing his arms up to wave his hand as though warding off some evil
influence, shaking his head wildly. He watches as Spike straightens and leans
over to set the wine glass in his hand on the table, pulling the already
form-fitting leather even tighter to his shapely lower body.
Angel inhales sharply as he turns partially into
profile, his palms sweeping down his chest to catch the edge of the soft
looking sweater and stripping it up over his head in a single graceful
movement. The tight sleeveless black t-shirt is so tight you can see the
ripples of his washboard stomach in the waves of the fabric. The hem rises,
caught by the sweater and flashes the glint of gold that is threaded through
his concave belly button for a few seconds before he sets the sweater aside.
His eyes trace the path of a palm as it slides low over his belly and under the
waistband of the belted leather pants, neatly tucking the shirt back in. He
starts through the throng of people before he realises what he’s doing, feeling
Wesley scrambling to follow in the wake he’s creating as he cleaves through the
crowd.
Before they’re even halfway there Spike is stalking
away from them towards the dance floor, his movements fluidly graceful and full
of slow intent as he moves one muscle group at a time in a sinuous ballet. The
ocean of motion parts and he is swallowed in the tide of humanity.
Angel drives towards the railing that marks the
boundaries of the sunken lower level dance floor, his eyes locked on his
quarry. It’s little surprise that the crowd of dancers parts and allows Spike
entrance to their ranks, an army of hands reaching out to touch or make futile
grabs in passing. It has always been that way with Spike. His uncanny ability
to change and adapt to his circumstances sees him gaining his entry to even the
tightest of social circles with alacrity unmatched by any other person he’s
ever known. People are drawn to the charismatic Master Vampire hummingbirds to
nectar rich blooms, flitting around him in an endless fluttering of colourful
wings, all wanting to taste his energy and gorge on his presence and take in
something of him into themselves. He has always been the most ‘Human’ of his
Childer so is it any wonder that he should be the one that he understands the
least? Humanity eluded him even when he was
Human and as a Vampire it is all the more alien. He’s done things with his soul
that Spike wouldn’t have done without
his and perhaps that is the true reason they’ve never gotten along. There was a
lot of truth in what Spike said when they were fighting for a worthless cup of
Mountain Dew. He is the mirror that he finds it painful to look into and is it
little wonder that he turns his eyes from the reflection when all it shows is
what is lacking in him?
He tracks Spike into the center of the crowd and
he’s not surprised to see he’s eluded the grasping hands and he’s swaying in a
world of his own as a new song starts to play. Hands reach out and a few bold
souls try to pull Spike into their gyrations but he eludes them all with easy
skill. It’s like watching a choreographed fight set to music and it’s not long
before the dancers get the hint and a circle of empty space surrounds Spike’s
solo dancing form. He is boneless grace wrapped in fluid sin and slowly the
circle widens until it looks like Spike is dancing in a bubble of holy space that
no one dares to trespass on…
…Until someone does….
Angel’s hands clench over the railing, the metal
deforming under the pressure.
Chapter Six
The world was on fire and no one could save me but
you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people
do.
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I knew somebody like you.
Spike sighs as his eyes slip closed enjoying the
silken slide of leather over his legs as he sways into the song. It’s always
been one of his favourites the slow hypnotic beat and husky vocals touching his
core with liquid heat. He drops his shoulder, dipping his hips into the rhythm
until his whole body is moving to the music. He doesn’t need eyes to see or
ears to hear, he can feel the music
and he opens himself to it, inviting it in to work its will through his body.
He’s jostled by pushy hands but he’s too deep into the music to care and he
barely notices when the disruptive presence is gone.
His hands slowly up his thighs, flexing lightly
against the rippling muscles as he draws his palms up his body, meandering
slowly over twitching stomach muscles and over his pillow-soft cotton T-shirt.
Upward his rising and falling chest, his palms turning outward as they leave
the soft cotton for favour of silken skin as he draws the back of his
fingertips up over his face until his arms are over his head.
No, I don't
want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I don't want to fall in love. (This world is
only gonna break your heart)
With you. With you. (This world is only gonna break
your heart)
He feels the presence at his back seconds before
his hands are caught in a steel embrace and brought down to cross over his
chest as he’s pulled back against a powerful body. Muscles melt together as the
powerful man pulls him back hard so hard he’s lifted off his feet momentarily
as the curve of his body are pulled into an insistent throbbing hardness.
He settles lightly onto the balls of his feet as
his unseen partner rocks them down towards the floor and slowly back up,
keeping them pressed tightly together. One arm is thrown over his shoulder and
across his chest, a powerful hand resting low on his belly as its twin roams
restlessly from his hip to his thigh forcing him into the motions of his
partner and locking them into a synergy of motion.
What a
wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this
way.
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you
and,
I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna
break your heart)
No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only
gonna break your heart)
With you.
Spike inhales deeply drawing the scent of his
partner deeply, he doesn’t need his eyes to know who is holding him and moving
them in the eldritch power of the dance. The lips grazing his nape and nibbling
lightly on his ear are as familiar to him as breathing is to a Human. He has
more senses to enjoy than could be dreamt of in their limited philosophies and
experiences. The body rocking into his own is no stranger despite the rarity of
its sharing his body remembers it well and rises to meet its demands.
His arms drift up and back to sink into a lush pelt
of hair, the thick strands curling around his fingers as tightly as the arms
coiling around his body. He shivers at the heat rising low in his belly and
flushing through his veins until it feels like every nerve is enflamed and
throbbing to a non-existent heart beat. It is the magic of the dance and the
alchemy of emotions.
The world
was on fire and no one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people
do.
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you
no,
No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only
gonna break your heart)
No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only
gonna break your heart)
With you. (This world is only gonna break your
heart)
With you. (This world is only gonna break your
heart)
No, I... (This world is only gonna break your
heart)
(This world is only gonna break your heart)
As the arms tighten and suddenly pivots spinning
him around and catching him up against a powerful body, he doesn’t fight
flowing into the strength so easily holding him aloft and swaying him into a
dip. Spike relaxes against the supportive hand in the small of his back and he
arches gracefully as poised as any gymnast, bending until his hair almost
sweeps the floor. His leg lifts and locks around a thigh, his belief in his
still unseen partner’s strength is absolute as he trusts him to support them
both. His palms drift over powerful shoulders to sink lightly into muscle
corded biceps as he is slowly lifted to his feet and gently set down. Fiery
arctic blue eyes meet soulful brown as his thickly lashed eyelids sweep up and
a wickedly welcoming smile curves his full lips upward.
Nobody loves
no one.
Bodies melt together and freeze, lips barely
brushing for a heartbeat before they slowly lean in unison and close the all-but
nonexistent distance to zero.
Spike curls his arms around a powerful neck as he’s
lifted off his feet as his tongue sweeps into the honeyed recesses of a
welcoming mouth in a slow deep kiss. He sighs as the applause of the crowd
breaks the moment and Gabriel carefully sets him down before taking his hand
and leading them back to the table, neither of them caring about or noticing
the dark presence shadowing them.
Chapter Seven
Deacon watches the pair return with an enigmatic
expression on his face and his friend Paul glances at him nervously.
“God doesn’t that… I dunno… bother… you to see that?” Paul asks nosily.
Deacon doesn’t answer that as the pair returns to
the table, merely quirking his finger at the pair and holds his hand out. To
Paul’s surprise it isn’t Gabriel that answers the commanding summons as he
slips into the booth beside Deacon without a word, only a sensual smile and
sweep of his tongue across his lower lip. It’s Spike’s hand that slips into
Deacon’s and it’s his body that’s pulled to lay across their laps and his mouth
that Deacon sweeps into like an invader at Normandy.
“Ok I guess it doesn’t bother you that much.” Paul
says snidely, snickering at the carnal display and reaching under the table to
adjust his jeans with what he hopes is a surreptiously nonchalant manoeuvre.
Spike licks his lips with a wicked grin as Deacon
releases his mouth, catching a drop of saliva running down the corner of his
mouth and licking it from his fingertip. He slides over to rest his back in the
corner of the booth, letting his legs stay draped over Deacon and Gabriel’s
laps as he accepts his wine glass back from Paul with a nod of thanks. He
reclines with a sigh like an indolent lion
after a feast and sips his drink with a distinctly lascivious flourish.
“Is there some news that three of you would like to
share?” Paul asks cagily, shooting them an amused grin. “You all back on again
or you still off?”
“If you were the meat in this sandwich….” Deacon
lifts his hands to trace Gabriel’s face and Spike’s leather clad legs. “…You’d
see the appeal of getting… off. If that was some bizarre way of asking if we’re
dating again then no it’s still Gabriel for me. Spike’s just a welcome treat
now and then.”
“You know you three are really kind of strange. You
don’t mind if the hotter than hell man you love lives with the walking
advertisement for spontaneous pregnancy as long as you get a little taste now
and then. I wish my ex was that tolerant, I hear she’s got herself a fine
looking new roommate.” Paul jokes and they all chuckle.
Spike takes a sip of his blood laced wine as his
chuckles die down and stiffens as the same feeling from the coffeehouse earlier
returns to prick at his instincts. He looks around but can’t see much through
the sea of people but it’s enough to snap him out of his lethargy and he looks
around with casual observance. He tries to relax as he fails to spot any
trouble but something coils deep inside him and he can feel his Demon stirring
to wakefulness.
Spike draws his legs up and crouches on the faux
leather upholstery of the seat and rolls over the back of the booth in an agile
move a cat would be hard pressed to recreate, gaining his feet.
“I think I’m going to take a little walk and work
off some… tension. I’ll meet you at the truck in two hours?” Spike says in a
low voice, causing Gabriel and Deacon to straighten up, all levity washed from
their faces as they start looking around suspiciously.
“Is there something wrong?” Deacon asks trying to
spot trouble but not seeing anything.
“Is it something that we should be calling security
for?” Gabriel asks quietly, reaching over the table and snagging Spike’s
sweater, handing it to him.
“I think something is hunting in here, I’m going to
see if I can find it first.” Spike says quietly. “I can handle it; you guys
stay here and have some fun. I feel like doing some more dancing.” Spike cracks
his knuckles with a dangerous smile. He slips his sweater over his head and
smoothes it into place with sweeps of his palms. “I love the smell of wood in
the evening.” He says pursing his lips as his friends snicker at the mangled
movie quote as Spike slips into the shadows and is soon lost from sight.
Angel watches from the shadows of a pillar and
shoves his phone at Wesley. “Find out who they are.” He orders in a growl as he
plunges into the crowd in the direction that Spike went.
Wesley flips over the phone and sees that Angel has
taken several photos, the images currently stored in his phone’s memory.
“Wouldn’t it just be easier to go ask them?” He mutters turning and cursing as
he realises he has no bloody clue where the exit is and he stomps off mumbling
darkly about Angel’s dubious parentage.
Chapter Eight
Spike slips out of the club silently and plunging
into the shadows of a deepening night and heading for the truck as he folds his
jacket over his arm. He pulls his keys from his pocket and finds the small
remote for the truck and deactivates the alarm, pressing a second button to
unlock the truck and a third to unlock a lock box in the back. He ignores the
prickling of awareness on the back of his neck, he knows he’s being followed
but his quarry is very good at shadowing him, staying just beyond the range of
his senses. He opens the rear tailgate and opens the secure compartment, revealing
a surprising array of weaponry both modern and… specialized.
Spike sets his coat down and slips out of his
sweater and folding it neatly before setting it aside on the tailgate; it was a
handmade gift from Letty and it has too much sentimental value to risk getting
messed up. Spike leans over the tailgate and pulls out a pair of matched Silver
daggers, running his thumb lightly along the double edges to check the
sharpness and nods satisfied. He kneels and lifts his right pant leg and
grabbing one of the daggers he thrusts it into a concealed sheathe built into
his boots. He repeats with his other leg before smoothing down the leather pant
legs. He pulls out a compartmentalized belt similar to the type used by the
military and he buckles it around himself and it settles down on his hips below
his waist. He adjusts it briefly so that it rides comfortably and opens the
pockets and checking inside and nodding in satisfaction. He spreads his coat
open and pulls out several carved wooded stakes and slips them into loops sewn
into the lining of the jacket, one in the back and two sitting side by side on
each side of the front closure.
A familiar scent tickles his sensitive nose and he
smiles as a powerful arm reaches past him to pick up two stakes and Spike turns
his face to meet Gabriel’s nuzzle as the larger man rubs his cheek
affectionately with chin.
“What took you so long?” Spike asks with a chuckle
that turns into outright laughter as Gabriel cuffs the back of his head
playfully.
“It wasn’t easy to convince Deacon to stay with
Paul, he wanted to come too.” Gabriel shrugs with a grin. “We couldn’t all
leave though, Paul would have been suspicious and since he doesn’t know about
our nocturnal leanings… one of us had to stay behind. Deacon is learning a lot
from us but he’s not ready to take up slaying as a full time hobby; maybe one
night soon but not tonight.” Gabriel selects his armaments while Spike slips
into his jacket and leans against the tailgate. “What are we hunting tonight
anyway? I haven’t seen you looked so spooked in a long time, something has
really been getting your back up tonight, ever since the coffeehouse.”
Spike chuckles and shakes his head. “Nice reference
Cat-Man and I don’t know what has my ‘back up’ but I rather suspect we’re the
hunted rather than the hunter tonight. Clever bastard whoever they are and they
have to know what I am, they’re staying just out of range and I can’t get a
definite bead on whatever it is but I know it’s there. It feels like bees
crawling over my skin and stinging me occasionally.”
Gabriel shudders comically. “Ewww, bees, I hate bees. I hope it’s not a
huge demonic bee.”
Spike chuckles again and steps away from the
tailgate as Gabriel locks the truck back up and trips the alarm again. “All the
things we’ve seen, fought, and killed and you’re scared of bees.” Spike snickers as he walks down the street. “Don’t worry,
pet, if it’s a demonic bee I’ll hold it off while you run to a shop and get an
economy-sized can of Raid©.”
“Oh that’s very funny, Wil!” Gabriel follows Spike
down a small access alley between the club and the dry cleaners next door and
within minutes they’ve left the hustle and bustle of the busy
It is a world that exists alongside our own but one
that couldn’t be more different as they enter the warrens of back alleys and
shadowed entrances to the underworld of the city. Here in this place the rules
of society cease to function and the conventions of civilization fall away.
Whether you’ve gotten that new promotion, your child is failing English or your
lawn is being overrun with Crabgrass falls to
inconsequence. In this place survival is the rule that matters and here only
the fittest can make it for long. It is a jungle in the heart of the city and
its predators as deadly as any in the world.
They’re well into the labyrinth of crisscrossed
alleys; trash strewn thoroughfares, and crumbling humanity, moving quickly and
quietly. The dust of several Vampires already dull their clothes in scattered
spots but the night is pretty quiet as though word that the hunters are out has
spread through the discarded population like wildfire. The burgeoning sky
finally reaches its breaking point and the first flurry of newly falling snow
begins to appear.
Buffeted by the developing storm the wind shifts
direction abruptly and Spike freezes in mid-step his muscles freezing and
locking. He slowly lets his foot continue its fall to land lightly on the
ground and he pivots to face the direction they’ve come from.
“Gabriel go back to the Club and check on Deacon
and Paul, now.” Spike’s voice is low and soft but the thread of command is
clear.
Gabriel doesn’t stop to argue but leaps and easily
clears the twelve foot distance to the raised ladder of a fire escape and
climbs up. “Spike….” He pauses and looks down worriedly.
“Go Gabriel, you can’t help me with this.” Spike
orders but softens the tone with an affectionate glance. “I’ll be along when
I’m done.”
Gabriel gives in and starts to climb, he can make
better time going over the rooftops, eager to get back to make sure Deacon and
Paul are alright. “You have half an hour Wil.” His voice drifts back down.
Spike glances up and watches the darting form until
it’s out of sight before returning his gaze to the street. “So you want to play
games do you? Let’s dance.”
Spike turns on his heel and streaks down the
street, leaping and catching the edge of a fence and deflecting his trajectory
to land lightly on the other side with little slowing of his momentum as he
streaks into the darkness. He grins at the sound of the violently rattling
fence and the flurry of cursing as he taps into a formidable core of speed and
agility to outrun his pursuer. He leads a merry chase for several miles before
he slows and leaps up onto the concrete rise of a loading dock and ducks into
an open bay and out of the increasing snowfall. The warehouse is quietly
deserted, the empty room obviously recently cleared and the doors left open to air
the bay before the next shipment. He jogs over to the metal staircase that
leads up to the catwalk and climbs up a few of the treads and stretches out to
wait.
He’s somewhat impressed when he doesn’t have to
wait long before a powerfully built form explodes through the gaping maw of the
bay and skids to a stop, looking around. He rises gracefully, slipping his coat
off and setting it on the stairs before kneeling and pulling the daggers from
their concealed sheathes and setting it on top of his jacket. He won’t need
weapons for this.
“A bit far from LA aren’t you Peaches?” Spike’s
voice is a husky combination of a purr and a growl as he stalks forward, his
weight distributed on the balls of his feet. “There are better ways to go
sightseeing if you’re interested in seeing the town.” His nose twitches as the
familiar scent fills his lungs. No one on the planet smells like his
Grand-sire. The faint scent of moss with the slight tang of salt air with an
undertone of heather, very faint but distinct, underlying the stronger scents
of a sharply clean smelling aftershave, blood, age, and power.
Spike circles Angel slowly, just out of range of
his long arms, his muscles tense and ready, and his eyes watchful. “What are
you doing following me around Seattle, Angel?”
Angel watches Spike warily, marvelling at the
changes in him. “Wesley needed some book that he couldn’t live without, he
asked me to come along. I certainly never expected to find you here, Spike.”
Angel replies honestly. “Curiosity got the better of me so I followed you.
Still playing the hero I see but the sidekick is a new twist. Who is he Spike?
I saw that jump he made; no human could have made it.”
“It doesn’t matter who he is, Peaches. You’ll be
gone soon enough and it won’t matter then will
it? I’ve been a good boy Grandpa; you don’t have to worry about your precious
humans, they’re safe.”
Angel darts forward, his hand flying out and
closing around Spike’s throat and lifting him and
holding him several inches off his feet. “Watch your tongue with me Lad.
You’ve forgotten your place, boy.”
The last word is driven out of him on an explosion
of air as Spike’s boot drives into his abdomen forcing him to drop him and
letting him spring backward out of range and landing in a crouch.
“I’ll ask
you again Angel, why are you following me and I suggest you answer me before I
decide to stop asking you what I want to know and this gets… physical.” Spike
stands smoothly, his hands sliding up his thighs to brace his hips in silence
defiance. The pose causes the muscles in his well-developed form to ripple
under his silken skin and painted on t-shirt.
“You left LA without a word and to my knowledge
with nothing but the car you’ve stolen from me, colour me curious as to what
you think you’re up to. You were living, though I use the term loosely, in my
Lair Spike, you know what that means. You left without my permission.”
Spike looks amused. “Don’t even bother to use that
Sire’s Rights argument with me. Firstly it wasn’t my choice to get stuck in that bloody office building. I couldn’t
leave without getting yanked right back like a dog on the bloody leash if you
recall. You can hardly claim that I invoked Childer’s Rights therefore I am not
bound by it. Secondly, you told me several
times to leave, don’t bitch when I finally *do*.”
Spike starts to slowly circle Angel as he stands
fuming. “You gave up your Sire’s Rights to your Childer one by one, why cry now
that you can’t control us… those of us left
that is. You stood by and let Penn be destroyed and I hear that Lawson paid
Daddy a visit and got swept up in a vacuum for his trouble. You left me crippled both physically and later with the
chip those bastards in the Initiative drilled into my brain. Drusilla mentioned
she found your hospitality a little too hot to handle after you set her on
fire. Not to mention having the dust of your Sire on your hand over a SLAYER. I understood she was my little
sister and part of your little experiment in Vampire Flambé too. So shall we
count then Peaches? Your Childer Penn and Lawson, your Sire once, attempted
destruction of your Childe Drusilla and Grand-childer Darla and of course me.
You systematically managed to destroy every member of the family that was left,
bravo.” Spike growls, looking pleased as Angel winces and looks ashamed for the
few seconds it takes him to steel his features into an imposing mask of
unemotional stoicism.
His features soften only
briefly as they look at his once proud Sire. “I do understand Angel, in a way
that I never could before I fought for my soul. It wasn’t your fault that we
did the things that we did you know? You didn’t create us Angel; Angelus did,
if anyone is responsible for what we’ve done it was him not you. Wes told me
all about your shiny prophecy of being a real boy, Pinocchio and I have to
honestly say that I don’t understand why you feel the need. You’re more human
than you are Vampire.”
“What would you know about it
Spike?” Angel snarls swiping the air with a massive clawed hand that Spike
cagily dodges with an agile side step and a smile. “You can’t presume to tell
me you have any idea what I feel.” Angel denies with a growl of vexation.
“If not I than who Angel; you
know very many souled Vampires do you?” Spike asks seriously, his eyes glinting
dangerously. “I am the only one in the world that can understand, don’t you get that? Only I have to say I think I’ve
managed it a bit better than you have, this whole having a soul business.”
Spike says sounding absurdly proud of the accomplishment.
“You were a babbling idiot in a
basement and a toy for The First to bat around for how long?” Angel asks
snidely.
“It was a lot less time than
you Rat-Boy. It didn’t take me long to figure out the truth and make peace with
I am. Would you like me to tell you what that truth is?” Spike offers
magnanimously.
“Oh why not, if nothing else it
should be amusing to hear.” Angel says deliberately sounding bored.
“I was a Demon, I did what
Demons do. I lived according to my nature and yes I killed and fed on Humans.
Didn’t really have a choice did I Peaches? We can subsist on animal blood but
it weakens us, makes us easy targets for our own kind. We’d have been killed
long ago if we weren’t unusually strong compared to most of our kind you know.
Everything in creation preys on something else to survive. Do you blame the
Lion for killing a Zebra; hunt a Tiger for killing a goat or a virus for making
someone ill? Do you blame a Human for eating a hamburger? I’m positive that a
cow would certainly see that as an act of murder but you see the thing about
cows is… they understand the nature of things. Grass gives up its existence to
feed a cow, the cow gives up its life in turn to feed a human… humans give up
their lives to us and in the end they return to the ground to nurture the grass
and it starts all over again.”
“You’re seriously not comparing
a cow’s life to a human’s life are you?” Angel says disgusted. “You’re feeding
from Humans aren’t you?!”
“The question is why do you put a human’s life above everything
else, including your own well-being? If cows… or pigs… could talk, I’m sure
they’d have something to say about your one-sided logic. However we both know
that for us the question isn’t the issue. You don’t need to kill a human to
feed from them, so why do you punish yourself? You make your own trouble. Buffy
didn’t have to send you to Hell; you live there every day willingly. Do you know how I beat you, for the first time, and it
is only the first time as long as you insist on being less than you are. You
deny the very things that make you more than human, the things that I embrace,
that those you fight embrace. I am
you, without the guilt, the endless questioning and worrying over every little
thing. You’ve denied yourself to the point that you’ve literally divided
yourself and your strength in two. Don’t lock Angelus up like a naughty little
boy, use him. Yes I feed from donors Angel and I have friends that
ensure that I have what I need to stay healthy.” Spike chuckles silently at the
look of horror on Angel’s face. “Don’t get your tights in a bunch Poufy-Man;
it’s not difficult to find supplies of discarded blood if you have the
connections. I do.”
Spike takes a step forward, his
eyes locked on Angel as he walks around him, slow deliberate steps until he’s
so close that the tip of his nose is almost buried in the hair of his nape.
“You don’t have to live half a life.”
“What would you know about it
Spike?!” Angel growls spinning around, shocked to find he’s practically
standing right on top of Spike. He inhales sharply as he gets an up close and
personal view of one of the most awe-inspiring sights in creation, Spike’s
eyes. They are truly astonishing from a distance but up close they become a
universe of their own, deep and dark stormy pools that draw you in and hold you
in a thrall that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he’s a Vampire.
From a distance the hue of his
eyes are changeable like the oceans to which his eyes are so often likened; the
grey-tossed blue of stormy seas one moment, the clear serene cerulean of
tropical seas to an almost glowing neon blue when his Demon stirs deep within,
all have a home in his eyes. Up close the reason for his extraordinary eyes
becomes clear as an entire spectrum of blue shades coil around one another in a
patchwork of beauty. Silvery blue flecks dance in the irises deepening to
flashing golden topaz as his passions or his Demon is roused and unleashed.
They are true wonders of nature and set into his vaguely feline features and
lit from within by a personality that could power a city, they are
unforgettable.
“What do I know about living
with my Demon?” Spike asks the corner of his mouth tilting up in a half grin as
his brow quirks up. Angel has the grace to look embarrassed. “If you lose your
soul you try to send the world to
Hell, without my soul I saved the world from
Hell, TWICE. Do you still want me to answer your question?” Spike asks softly,
taking another step and finally pressing their chests together as he nuzzling
his cheek along Angel’s chin.
Angel squeezes his eyes shut
and takes a step away until they’re no longer touching. “What are you trying to
prove Spike?”
“Am I trying to prove
something?” Spike asks, sounding thoughtful. “I guess maybe I am trying to
prove something but it’s only to me Angelus, not to you. From the day Drusilla
brought me to meet you, I’ve never really been alone. First there was Drusilla
and the family, grudging though my acceptance among you was. Then you ran off
to play with the shiny new toy that was your Soul and the family
self-destructed in your wake but Dru was still there. She needed me and I guess
I needed her too, to give me purpose and a reason to be. You took her
eventually but fate is a funny thing. You took my love but another of your
loves picked me up. I found shelter among my prey and I learned to see them
differently. Since the night my human life ended all I’ve ever heard is that my
life is over, transformed from normalcy and that I was more than any human.
That was wrong, I’ve figured out what the truth of my existence is and I’ve come
to accept it.” Spike stalks over to a nearby girder support and leans against
it, writhing as the freezing metal touches his warmer skin.
“And what is this grand
self-evident truth of yours?” Angel crosses his arms over his chest and as
impressive a sight as that may be it’s not enough to distract Spike from what
he wants to say.
“I don’t need your charity or
your magnanimous noblesse oblige to live in your shadow and accept the scraps
that get tossed my way. This isn’t LA and no one bows at your feet here. This
is my town, I’ve fought for my right
to be here, paid for it with my blood. I’m not the familiar stranger here, this
is my home. You don’t matter more than I do because you have a shiny entry in
some dusty book of prophecies.” Spike straightens from the girder with a subtle
shimmy of his muscles. “The Humans you protect so viciously, they don’t matter
more than I do. Because I’m different then they are it doesn’t make me
disposable. Evil wears a lot of faces and some of them are Human just as some
of them are Demonic. I know why you can’t stand me, what makes you turn away
from the sight of me and what makes you want to enjoy my pain. I may be a
Vampire but I’m not dead, I’m more alive then you’ve ever been. That’s what you
hate about me isn’t, that and the fact that you’ve fooled them all, everyone
but me. You have them completely snowed and believing that you’re not Angelus.
Darla didn’t just take your soul, she stole your humanity. You’ve changed how
you dress and how you speak but you’ve never been completely successful at
changing how you act. I’d say Darla and Penn could offer evidence to that
effect. So could a room full of lawyers I’ve heard about and that mark on
Wesley’s throat; that wasn’t a car accident like he told me was it? I know that it wasn’t, I’ve seen your work
on enough occasions to recognize your hand in that scar.”
“Shut up Spike, just shut up!
You don’t have a clue about what I think or feel!” Angel denies hotly. “You’ve
always been jealous of me and wanted everything I have. You want to be me.”
“Does it make you feel better
to think so?” Spike asks curiously. “You asked me what I was trying to prove
and I didn’t really answer you. I’m not here to prove anything to you, those
bruises I left you with spoke loudly enough in that regard. I’m here to live. Do you want proof that life exists
for us Angelus?” Spike throws his arms open wide. “Here I am, living my life on
my terms and out of your shadow. Drusilla may have taken my blood and with it
my soul for a while but she didn’t take my life and you couldn’t pry it away
from me. You hate me because I’m alive and I make you ask yourself the hard
questions that don’t have any right answers. Don’t hate me because I refuse to
crawl into the grave you’ve made of your life.” Spike stalks to the stairs and
picks up his jacket, sliding into it. “Go home Angelus and rest in peace.” He
turns and it’s clear that he intends to leave.
“You didn’t answer another of
my questions. Who is he Spike?” Angel’s voice is a rumbling bass growl. “You looked
very cosy, a close friend of yours or both of them I should say.”
Spike pauses but doesn’t turn
around. “How is Nina, Angel?”
“That’s none of your business,
Spike. Nina isn’t part of this conversation so leave her out of it.”
“Exactly, I’m glad you
understand.” Spike resumes his walk towards the door.
Angel’s vision greys as he
watches Spike walk away and he can only watch him go and with no idea where
he’s living now, his chances of finding him are slim but he can’t seem to force
his muscles to unlock and move. Maybe they’re just too used to standing by and
letting things happen.
Chapter Nine
Spike calmly side steps the
hurtling projectile that explodes past the area he was just in, casually
reaching out and catching Angel by the collar of his jacket and locks his hand.
Angel stares at the concrete
just inches from his face, held from what should have been a painful impact by
Spike’s hold on his jacket. He swallows as Spike carefully levers him back and
up against his chest, wrapping a powerfully muscled arm over his collarbone.
Angel collapses back against him and takes a deep breath. “Why are things
always so difficult between us Spike?”
“Maybe you just need some proof
that you’re alive too.” Spike lets his head fall forward until his nose is buried
in Angel’s hair and he takes a deep breath locking the memory of that scent
deep inside his mind. He can barely remember what Dru’s scent was like and all
his talk of independence aside, part of him still longs for Angel to see him as
something more than a familiar stranger.
“Come back to LA with me Spike.
Show me how to live?” Angel asks finally in a quiet voice.
“If you stay in LA, the
question of living won’t be an issue. Lorne is gone, Gunn may as well be. Fred
won’t stay forever, she’d not bred to live in the belly of the beast. How long
before you’re alone?”
“How do you know about Lorne
and Gunn?” Angel asks surprised.
“Just because I left doesn’t
mean I stopped caring. I made it my business to find out how you were doing.”
Spike pushes on his shoulder blades gently, levering Angel away and supporting
him until he feels his muscles bracing under his hand ready to support his
weight, and he stands. “All you’re going to find in LA is death, probably a
very messy one. You’ve made a deal with the Devil but forgotten that the Devil always stacks the deck in his favour.
You can’t win Angel.”
“I could with your help.” Angel
says sounding positive. “We’d be a hard team to beat if we worked together
rather than in opposition.”
“Do you know what you’d get if
I came back to LA?” Spike asks wryly. “Just one more target for the Senior
Partners to practice on.”
“It’s that man isn’t? He’s the reason that you won’t leave and
come back with me.” Angel says flatly.
“No he was the reason that I
stayed but he’s not the reason that I won’t leave. There’s a difference you
know. I’ve made a life for myself here and all that’s waiting in LA is a slow
death. I’ve been there done that and wore the gaudy jewellery. I figure I’m
about at my limit for miraculous resurrections.”
“So it’s not me that you’re
objecting coming back to LA for?” Angel turns his face away and he sounds
uncharacteristically unsure of himself.
“No Pet, it’s not you that I’m
turning down just the death and dismemberment at the hands of the Senior
Partners part of the equation. You have options Angelus, use them while you
can.”
“What options are those Spike?
I’m the poster child for evil lawyers incorporated!”
“Only for as long as you stay
in front of the camera Angelus. There are places beyond their reach.” Spike
slithers around and straddles Angel’s lap, drawing his knees under him as he
kneels comfortably on his thighs. “I made an interesting discovery when I was
deciding whether or not to settle here on an extended basis. Were you aware that
there isn’t a division of Wolfram & Hart in
“You know I don’t think that
we’ve ever looked at it from that angle before. Wes has tried to find out what
the other divisions are up to so we can try and come up with ways to block them
from inside. I don’t think he’s thought to analyze the places where Wolfram
& Hart isn’t and to find out what
makes those places different from the rest.” Angel muses looking intrigued.
“I think it has something to do
with those places having a lot of mystical energy and a deep connection to the
old ways. For all its modern urbanization there are places in this State where
no human has ever stepped foot. Much of the old ways still exist among all the
races that share this place. I’ve seen Demons here that I thought were extinct
and some that I think are except for
their numbers here.” Spike tells him quietly. “I have a good friend that’s a
Healer, a powerful Shaman for her people and she tried to explain it to me.
Something about ‘Ley Lines’ and reservoirs of energy left from the time before
time began. She mentioned something about a ‘Legacy of the Old Ones’ and
something about a well… it was all a bit strange. Mystic stuff was never really
my thing but you may want to pass that on to Wes.”
“You know I remember Wes
mentioning something about a Well around the time that Knox disappeared and
went missing.” Angel remembers snapping his fingers as the memory comes back to
him suddenly. “There was a security log showing that he signed the receipt of a
sarcophagus into the log book but when Fred came back to the lab there was no
sign of it or Knox. Wes checked through the files on his computer and all he
found was some vague mention about a Well and some girl named Lori or something
like that, his girlfriend probably. I wonder if it’s a coincidence.”
Spike turns his face aside to
hide the satisfied flash in his eyes. “It’s hard to tell, I never did like that
Bloke. There was something shifty in the way he was always watching Fred when
he thought no one was looking. He was probably up to something and it ended up
biting him in the ass.”
“Wes shared your distrust of
Knox.” Angel says dryly.
“Wes would have hated Knox
regardless of whether he was Devil or Angel, pardon the phrase. Few men are
wont to suffer a rival gladly and Wesley is interested in Fred.” Spike says
slyly. “I wouldn’t be surprised if those two got their act together
eventually.” His features smooth into seriousness. “Give them the chance
Angelus. Leave LA and Wolfram & Hart while you can before something happens
that you won’t be able to fix. I imagine you have enough guilt you’re carrying
around already.”
“You know this could be a
record. We’ve been talking for a whole ten minutes and we haven’t started
fighting.” Angel observes quietly, clearing his throat nervously. It occurs to
him that he’s enjoying Spike’s weight in his lap and not sure what to make of
that.
“Well I imagine it would be a
difficult prospect to argue with a man sitting in your lap, there are all sorts
of not altogether pleasant sensations that could follow such folly.” Spike
points out.
“Maybe I should just make sure
you’re always sitting in my lap then!” Angel exclaims sounding as happy as a
man that’s suddenly discovered the cure for all the ills in the world.
“Sure that’d work during a
fight, whatever we’re fighting would be laughing too hard to defend itself,
easy kill.” Spike jokes. His breath hitches as Angel slowly runs the palm of
his hand up and down his back and he has to wonder if he realises he’s doing
that or not.
“You were lovers weren’t you,
that man and you?” Angel finally asks what he’s really wanted to know since he saw Spike with that big ape.
“Which man would that be?”
Spike asks innocently and almost laughs at the uncomfortable look on Angel’s
face.
“Well either, you looked pretty
familiar with both of them damn it.” Angel grouses darkly.
“It was both and it was a while
ago but we’re still… close, as you saw. They’d accept me in their relationship
again I suspect if I showed an interest in renewing things on that level.”
Spike admits honestly, taking pity on him. “It’s not about the sex, that’s
easily come by and I’ve never lacked in that department. It’s about intimacy,
inviting someone into your life and knowing that you can trust them with it and
with all that you are. It’s very liberating and being so close to them, well it
gives me what I need.”
“And what is it that you can
get from a man that you need?” Angel asks boldly but then he lets his lashes
drop over his eyes. “I mean… I never knew that you were, well that way. That one time we… you didn’t
seem to enjoy it much.” He mutters barely loud enough for even their more than
Human hearing to pick up. “You sure seem to enjoy it now though.”
“Oh yes I didn’t like it so
much that I went right out and had a relationship with Penn for ten years.”
Spike says shaking his head and looking at him like he’s lost his marbles but
then his mouth drops open in shock. “You didn’t know that Penn and I were
lovers back then did you?”
“I… no… no I didn’t know that.
I think I would have killed him if I’d known that.” Angel breathes.
“Well you stood by and let him
die eventually but hey what’s the life of one more Demon even if he was your
‘son’ right?” Spike says bitingly. “As Dad’s go you’ve really been the pits ya
know?”
Angel stiffens and he wants to
deny the charge but what Spike said earlier repeats in his mind and he realises
that’s it’s true, he has managed to single-handedly decimate a once proud Order
to almost nothing. He’s put the lives of Humans above his kindred and kin and
ignored the evils that men do while he punished Demons for what they do simply
because it is their nature to do.
He’s honest with himself, he’ll
never be able to stand by and let a Human be harmed by the actions of a Demon.
If he sees a Vampire killing a Human then he’d interfere but how many times has
he stood by and watched news report after news report about the evils that men
do and never realised that he was seeing his world in absolute black and white?
Men kill each other for stupid reasons over things that matter only to them
only for moments, here one minute and smoke and illusion the next. Why are they
worth more than the lives of his Childer? Granted Penn was dangerous the
antithesis of life and his death was inevitable. His mad Drusilla, trapped
forever with a fractured mind, eternally his Childe, a little girl with no
conception of right and wrong. They are beyond his help as much as Darla was,
their humanity nothing more than a faint echo in time, given up joyfully to the
darkness that consumed their lives.
He runs his palm over Spike’s
back, marvelling at the feel of petal soft cotton sheathed muscle. His strength
is impressive and undeniable. Here is the true legacy of his life, this
extraordinary Vampire that has not only followed in his footsteps but has
passed him by to show him the way to
salvation. He’s forced to admit to the sting of pride when he thinks about what
Spike has been able to accomplish even without a soul he was a better Vampire,
a better man then he was so it’s little wonder that he makes a better souled
version too. He’s given him some words for thought tonight and taught him a
valuable lesson about perspective and he wonders what else he might be in the mood to teach him.
“How did you know that you
liked men?” He asks, running his palm down to his waist, his fingertips tracing
the fine leather of his belt and pants.
“I assume that you mean
sexually and not as best mates I’d invite along for a pint at the local pub
then?” Spike says with a chuckle. Angel nods and looks down shyly.
“I have you to thank for that
realisation. That night against the alley wall was my awakening. It was quick
and frenzied but it changed the way that I saw the people around me. I found
pleasure with Dru in many forms, some bloodier than others, but there was
always part of me that was left wanting and unsatisfied. You showed me a deeper
pleasure that night and I understood that I was incomplete and that what I
needed was something that Dru could never give me; she could never make me
whole, no woman could. I knew then that I’d enjoy being with women but that
they’d never give me the deeper pleasures that would make me really happy and
content.”
“Did Penn make you happy?”
Angel asks curiously.
“He made me happier.” Spike
replies enigmatically. “After you left us in
“Penn was in Sunnydale?” Angel
is surprised but he doesn’t know why. Of course Penn would follow the rumours
to Sunnydale just like Spike did to find him in his desperate attempts to heal
Dru. Then it occurs to him that Penn could have just as easily followed the
rumour mill and arrived looking for Spike rather than him.
“Briefly but he left and
followed us to South America when he found out that we weren’t in Sunnydale but
he didn’t stay long but neither did I really. Dru was up to her tomcatting
again and I was never one to wait in line patiently so we both drifted away. He
found his end at the in the point of a stake and my life was stolen by a bunch
of government thugs.” Spike shrugs and sits back heavily, weighed down by the
not so pleasant memories.
“Tell me what you saw in him?”
Angel says in a rush trying to distract Spike from topics best less thought of
in this moment.
Spike isn’t foolish enough to
think that Angel is still talking about
“I want. To hear it, I do.” Angel
says earnestly.
“Have you ever had an equal in
your life Angel? Someone that you didn’t have to hold back with, that could
match you in every way? Buffy was strong but she wasn’t my equal and I know
that she wasn’t yours. You had to hold back at least partly, so did I, part of
my mind always had to be aware that I couldn’t share everything that I was with
her, not without hurting her, not in the good way. Dru may be older than I am
and stronger in some ways with her spooky little mind tricks and tolerance for
pain but she’s never been as physically strong as I am. I had to hold back even
with her.”
“Women are fragile in some ways
compared to men on a physical level; it’s just part of what makes us two
genders. It doesn’t make one sex better than another, it just makes us
different.” Angel preaches.
“Save it for Gloria Steinem,
Pet, I’m not talking about equality of the sexes here. It is just a fact that
I’ve never met any woman that could match me physically, not even Buffy.” Spike
leans closer stifling a gasp as he can feel Angel’s muscles shifting fluidly
against his skin as he braces to support his weight. “Do you know how seductive
it can be to not have to hold back? To know that you can give all that you are
to someone else and know that they can not only take it but that they want it?
Women are soft curves and hills and valleys. Men are planes and angles and
strength and familiarity. I’m not sure that I could tell you but I could show
you. Would you like that? Let me show you how it feels. Will you let me show you Angel? Will you take the chance
that you may like what I do to you?”
“I want to go back to that
club. I want to dance with you like that guy.” Angel admits, neither granting
nor denying Spike’s request.
Spike rises smoothly to his
feet, dragging his body along the length of Angel’s chest until he can press
his cheek against the rippling muscles of his abdomen. “You want to dance?” He
strokes his fingers through Angel’s hair, pulling his head back until their
eyes can meet. “We don’t need to be in public for that.”
Spike starts to hum, rocking
his hips from side to side slowly, the movement slowly travelling through his
body until he is sinuous motion, boneless and fluidly graceful. He deliberately
rocks his hips forward against Angel only to drift away seconds later until
Angel is unconsciously following his movements as he slowly backs away, leading
Angel.
Angel is on his feet before he
realises that Spike has led him there, dancing around him in concentric circles
a deliberate sensual parody of his earlier movements when they were fighting.
He sighs as Spike brushes against him only to groan as he is just as suddenly
gone. It’s too much and he darts forward and locks his arms around Spike’s
waist yanking him to him. The sound he makes then is foreign even to his
experienced ears as Spike’s slight form melts against his filling an emptiness
that he didn’t know he had.
Spike slides his palms up his
arms and over his shoulders and around to his nape, sinking into the short
hairs that tickle that delicate patch of skin. The humming becomes a low
breathy singing that dances over his nerve endings like caressing fingers.
Shadows
Now curtain the moon
But faith swears
It will shine again soon
Shine with love
You've been hiding from me
They sway together, shuffling
their feet and barely moving their bodies until they pitch and roll into a
sweeping waltz that has them gliding across the empty floor. The memory of long
gone ballrooms and the dressy gala balls of yesteryear flit across their memories.
They know this dance and they dance it well. Their strengths are well met and
their power belies their grace.
Your kiss
Has hindered the day
A longing
That won't go away
You just keep knocking
And waking my heart
Like daylight chasing the dark
Spike lets Angel twirl him into
a spin before catching him up against him once more, uncaring when his feet
leave the floor and he’s carried along on Angel’s fervour. He tightens his arms
and calls up the music of his soul, singing his heart into the music.
I can exist being caught by your kiss
Willingly
Or grant you control
Of my body and soul
Ask it and so it shall be
He melts closer to breathe the
last line directly into Angel’s sensitive ear and he nips the lobe playfully as
Angel’s grace falters for a moment and he is dropped back to his feet on
Angel’s broken gasp and unconscious thrusting of his hips. “Ask it and so it
shall be.” He whispers once more turning them into another gliding sweep across
the floor.
Shadows
Now curtain the moon
Still faith swears
It will shine again soon
Shine with love
You've been hiding from me
With that love
You've been hiding from me
Angel gasps and his arms lock
around Spike, driving them both forward against one of the support girders,
Spike trapped beneath his weight and the immovable strength of the pillar. He
backs up just enough to let Spike slowly slide down his body and regain his
footing. The friction catches the soft material of his t-shirt and rolls it up
baring an impressive set of sculpted abdominal muscles that draw Angel’s hand
like a magnet does iron shavings. He can’t stop touching the silken expanse
it’s much warmer than he would have thought. Perhaps it’s just one more
instance of Spike’s overwhelming humanity.
Spike leans back against the
pillar and slides his arms around Angel’s shoulders and pulls him to rest
against him as he rises up on the ball of his feet and presses his lips lightly
to Angel’s rubbing lightly as he continues singing, soft and low.
I can exist being caught by your kiss
Willingly
Or grant you control
Of my body and soul
Ask it and so it shall be
Angel wraps his hands around
Spike’s waist and lifts him easily, his head falling back on a hitched breath
as Spike’s legs curl around his waist, supporting his weight. His palms tingle
as they brush over the warmth of his skin as he catches the end of the t-shirt
and strips it over Spike’s head. He inhales sharply as the sculpted perfection
of Spike’s chest is revealed to his avid gaze.
“Ask it and so it shall be.”
Spike lets his palms slide up from Angel’s nape to cup his face as his thumb
smoothes over his full lower lip.
“Kiss me Spike. Show me….”
Angel leans forward sighing just as their lips touch and their bodies melt
together.
“I’ve always loved you Angel….”
A talented mouth robs him of
his power of speech as Angel arches into the sharp bite of pleasure.
Epilogue
“Angel? Angel…? The steward said we’re heading
for turbulence, you should buckle up.”
Angel is startled out of his
dream by Wesley’s voice and his hands move of their own accord to buckle his
seat belt. He grabs the front of his jacket and crosses it over the clear
evidence of his dream as his arms cross his chest. “What progress have you made
locating Spike?”
“We’ve been in the air for an
hour and a half Angel and the only clue we’ve got are some questionable photos
on your picture phone. It’s going to take time to find Spike even with our
resources.” Wesley says staring at Angel in amazement. “If it was so important
to get Spike back why didn’t you just knock him over the head and pack him in
your luggage?”
Angel snatches his phone and
looks through the pictures and isolates the one he wants and throws the phone
at Wesley; who fumbles not to drop it. “Find him and we find Spike. Enough excuses, Wes. I want Spike found and
I want to know everything about his life.”
“And when you know all there is
to know? What then?”
“I get back what’s mine.” Angel
sits back in his seat and lets his eyes slip closed, closing out Wesley’s
continued yapping. Maybe he can reclaim his dream until he can find and reclaim
Spike. He wonders how much of his dream is fact and how much of it is wishful
thinking on his part. Whichever it turns out to be he knows one thing, he has
too much to lose to let Spike walk out of his life. Maybe, just maybe, he’s got
something to prove too.
+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
Prologue
The
He tracks the jet’s path
until it is beyond even his keen eyesight and he looks over his shoulder at the
silent pair that has been watching his back for over three hours. As he turns
away from the chain link fence their arms are there to pull him against warm
bodies and welcome him with affectionate sweeps of their hands.
“So that is who you left
LA to get away from?” Gabriel asks after a moment.
“Maybe I left LA so he’d
find me.” Spike replies quietly, happy at the center of the warm blanket of
bodies.
“Who was he?” Deacon
asks, a little jealous of Spike’s obvious fascination with a man other than
himself or Gabriel. While their relationship isn’t sexual any longer part of
him will always yearn for the charismatic Master Vampire that introduced him to
Gabriel and showed them the pleasures to be found in each other’s bodies.
Without him he’d have been trapped in his illusion of heterosexuality and the
joy that Gabriel brings to his life would have never happened.
“Angelus, though he
prefers to hide behind the name Angel
these days.” Spike reluctantly wiggles out from between the pair as he leans
against the bumper of the truck and fishes a cigarette case and a lighter out
of his coat pocket. His hand is shaking faintly as he lights the hand-rolled
cigarette and takes a fortifying inhalation, blowing out the sweet clover
scented smoke on a relieved sigh.
“That was your Sire?!” Gabriel exclaims in shock. For some
reason he would have expected a more extreme reaction to seeing his Sire of all
people but instead Spike looks calm and resigned.
“What; you mean that was your DAD?!” Deacon exclaims.
Spike stares wordlessly for a few seconds and then bends
over shaking with laughter. “No… no, he’s not my Dad.” He wheezes through his
laughter. He straightens after he recovers from his wild laughter. “Angelus is the
Elder of the Aurelius Order, the Clan of sorts that I belong to; so that
means technically that all Vampires of that lineage are his subjects. However
Angelus is the Sire of my Sire Drusilla and that means he was the one that
created her and she in turn created me. Under Vampiric tradition a Sire is
responsible for all that their Childer do, so when Dru created me, I became one
of his Childer as well but he’s my Grand-sire if one has to get technical with
the details. He was however more involved in my ‘upbringing’ than many
Grand-sire’s because Dru was really incapable of caring for herself much less
any Childer she created. Angelus forbad her to make any after me when he’d
found out what she’d done and reared me in her place but he wasn’t about to do
that again. It’s a lot of work to rear a Childe and he was impatient on his
best days with the responsibility.”
“So he what, raised
you?” Deacon asks confused. He knows that their shared demonic heritage is a
tie between Gabriel and Spike
that will elude him but he tries his best to learn what he can about the two most
important men in his life. They’re the closest thing he has to a family given
his own less than picture perfect childhood. Spike starts to explain but slowly
his voice softens as though travelling a great distance as his mind drifts into
his own circumstances.
The son of a disillusioned ex-professor and a spoiled
socialite had little contact with his parents prior to their deaths when he was
barely in his teens. His home life was stable only to the succession of
kind-hearted nannies employed to care for him. In a way he was lucky that his
parents left him well-provided for so he could stay at the exclusive boy’s
school that sheltered him to adulthood. He had no contact with his parents’
relatives both having long disowned both of his parents for their sins both
real and imagined. How strange that he should have learned so much about life,
love, and family from two Demons and the unusual family they’ve forged out of
adversity.
He’s heard all the stories from Gabriel so he knows the
pair has been through a lot together, only some of which he can understand.
Spike was there for Gabriel when his marriage slowly disintegrated and the pain
of facing the fact that his daughter belonged with her Mother. It was a
difficult time for Gabriel but Spike’s friendship and support helped him
through it. He rarely sees his half-Vengeance Demon daughter as she lives with
his ex-wife in Arash Ma’har. Time being the fickle god that it can be, though
only two and a half years has passed for them, well over fourteen have passed
there and his daughter is well into her teenage years. Spike was also there to
help Gabriel embrace his Demon side even as he helped Spike to embrace his humanity.
They’re extraordinary these best friends of his and he’s lucky to know them.
They were both there for him when he decided to turn his
back on the profitable corporate life he’d been living and realise his dream of
being a Fireman. The transition wasn’t an easy one but here he is one of the
youngest station captains in the city. He’s learned to train his body and his
mind to its utmost potential and he is a formidable example of physical
ability, both benign and aggressively as the occasion warrants. He is the lover
of one Hunter and shares the mutual friendship of another, it’s important to
him that he learns enough about their world to live in it. Because he’s
positive that he can’t live without them now.
“…So I ended up at that scenic overlook outside Port
Townsend and Gabriel came along and stopped to see if I was alright. I stayed…
and the rest you know.” Spike’s voice trails off.
Deacon grimaces
briefly realising that he wasn’t paying attention. He supposes it’d be poor
manners to make Spike repeat it but he thinks that he understands most of it
and he won’t ask him to repeat it again. “Well he’s gone now and he wouldn’t
have gone if he was that upset that you left right? So it’s over right?”
Spike glances at the empty runway. “He’s gone for now but
he’ll be back.” The confidence in Spike’s voice is clear to all.
“How do you know that for sure?” Gabriel asks, glancing at
him confused.
“He can only find the answers to the questions that he
doesn’t know that he’s been asking for a century from one person. Everyone has
to wake up at some point; you can’t spend your life dreaming.”
“How can you be so sure that the person with the answers
is here?” Deacon wonders still confused.
“Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?”
Spike replies as the corner of his mouth turns up in an enigmatic half grin.
“Edgar Allan Poe.” Deacon says with a grin. “I always
liked that quote but what do you mean?”
“Oh I think I get it, it’s like that old conundrum right?
Am I asleep dreaming I’m awake or am I awake dreaming that I’m sleeping?”
Gabriel offers.
“Right, like that picture of a man watching the TV and the
picture on his TV is of another man watching TV who’s watching another man
watching TV and so forth. It’s a play on perspective.” Deacon realises. “Or
like that old science fiction story that says our entire universe is only a an
atom in a larger existence, that we could even be existing inside the body of
something larger than we are.”
“Right, sometimes dreams happen for a reason and sometimes
they’re more than dreams. For over a century Angel has been walking outside his
mind when he sleeps and his mind floats outside the barriers he maintains when
he is awake. He’s started to question whether the dreams are more then they
seem.” Spike replies, a strange light seems to shine from the depths of his
eyes.
“And you are the one that can tell him that.” Gabriel
states flatly, not needing to make it a question. “Where does his mind wander
when he’s sleeping?” He asks suspiciously.
Spike taps his temple. “A brave man runs where Angels fear
to walk.”
“That’s what Mom has been helping you with isn’t? She
knows what’s been happening doesn’t she?” Gabriel recognizes. “That’s why she’s
been teaching you those meditation techniques!”
“Yes, you’re Mum’s a healer Gabriel, you know she can
sense things that the rest of us can’t see and she can see the tie that bonds
me to Angelus and through him to Angel. She has helped me to recognize what my
Demon has known all along. We’ll never be finished; the connection between us
will never be broken. It explains so many things….” Spike’s voice trails off.
“Angel will never be whole without me and he’s going to wake up to that fact
sooner rather than later I think. When he does he’ll back because there’s no
where else for him to go.”
“Is that a common bond between a Sire and his Childer? I
would have thought your Drusilla would have been more likely to feel this
connection rather than you’re Grand-sire. Or is it that he is older and more
powerful that makes the difference?” Deacon asks fascinated.
“As THE Elder of our Order his power is great that’s true
but the bond we share isn’t wholly born of that tie but it may be magnified by
it perhaps.” Spike replies quietly, his hand lifting to ghost his fingertips
over the deep scar just below his left ear.
“What is it then that created the bond between you?”
Deacon asks still utterly enthralled by the tale.
“Desire, obsession, possession… maybe even love of a sort
all wrapped up in a secret we’ve carried for over a century.” Spike says
quietly, he knows that explanation isn’t good enough from the expressions on
the faces of his friends and looks around. “Why don’t we find some little diner
or something where we can talk and not freeze our asses off?” He offers.
“Actually we should be heading for the ferry or we’ll have
to stay in the city, Deacon why don’t you come with us and stay with me for a
couple days? You’re off-call for the next week right?” Gabriel glances at
Deacon with a hopeful expression.
“Yes I am and I’d love to. Do we have time to stop off at
my place so I can pack a bag?” Deacon asks glancing at his watch.
“It will be close but we’ll have time if we go right now
and you’re quick with the packing.” Gabriel says herding them to the car with
all the skill of a sheepdog driving a flock and they’re on their way within a
minute.
Gabriel doesn’t take his eyes off the road but he urges
Spike to continue his story. “We’re warming up and we’re not in danger of
freezing our asses off so go on.”
“Could you start at the beginning?” Deacon asks hopefully,
eager to learn more about the enigmatic Vampire he considers one of his best
friends.
“Ok the beginning. Angelus was sired by Darla, since you
saw him, I’m sure that I don’t have to explain why she chose him.” Spike says
wryly. “Darla was the favourite Childe of the then Elder and Master of the
Aurelius Order, that’s like a Vampire Clan of sorts and he just preferred to be
called the Master rather than by his given name. That’s actually fairly common,
few Vampires actually keep the names that they had when they were human and for
some names don’t mean much at all. What they are, well that is enough of an
identity and they don’t want to remember *who* they used to be.”
“It must be a difficult transition to make.” Deacon says
as an aside.
“It is very difficult, over three-quarters of those turned
as minions will be destroyed within their first week of rising, some by their
own inability to accept what they’ve become and others to unkind fates. I saw
one of Dru’s newly risen minions actually trip on an exposed root and stake
themselves not even two minutes raised. That is actually not that uncommon,
their re-mortality rates are excessive as they receive little to no attention
from the Vampire that created them. Childer since they’re usually cared for and
protected by their Sires, most of them will survive their initial turning.
Whether they live beyond that is rather dependant on their Sires.”
“Sort of like parents then? Some parents are attentive and
love their children so they grow up well-adjusted and happy and others ignore
or abuse them and they become twisted and broken?” Gabriel asks.
Spike nods pleased that they understand. “You could say a
lot of things about Angelus but he cared for his Childer in his way and all of
us survived and became Masters in our own right. Although Drusilla’s
Master-ship is mostly the result of the sheer power of Angelus’ blood, his
care, and the nature of her powers, rather than in her own right. If she wasn’t
gifted with the powers of the mind that she has, she would never have made
Master, her mental state is too fragile and she’s naturally submissive. She
would have ended up as chattel to some stronger Vampire somewhere.” Spike’s
voice sounds distracted as the memories play once more across the scenery of
his mind.
“Angelus did what he could to make her as strong as he
could, which was actually quite the challenge since he’d driven her mad before
he turned her.” Spike continues his tale. “What Angelus accomplished was really
very spectacular given the fact that Darla cared little for Vampiric Lore and
the mores of Vampire Society other than to enjoy her status as the favourite
Childe of a strong Elder that is. What Angelus knew, he taught himself or
studied on his own, and an accomplishment that was very rare for the time in
which he was turned. Whatever else could be said about Angelus, he was a
survivor.”
“Is that why he took you under his wing and showed you how
to survive as a Vampire?”
Spike chuckles at Deacon’s unwitting pun at Angel’s
expense, ‘under his wing’ indeed. “I suspect it had more to do with the fact
that if I had perished so soon after rising, that it would reflect badly on
*him*. Angelus had much concern over his reputation and the image he projected.
I think it had to do with his human life; he was the bastard son of a wealthy
landholder and while his Father was generous, he knew that society would never
recognise him as his heir. He would forever be the pampered bastard son and
never the respected lord of the manor. I think it’s why he felt that his
station in Vampiric life was so important. Regardless though of why he
initially took me and raised me, it didn’t take him long to make it binding.”
“Drusilla didn’t object to having you taken away?” Gabriel
asks surprised.
“Dru would have cheerfully watched while he killed me if
that’s what Angelus wanted. I know that Dru cared, cares, for me but for her
Angelus will always come first. It took a long time for me to accept that but I
have and I even understand it now.”
“How did he bind you?” Deacon’s spellbound voice asks.
Spike’s fingertips reach up to trace the scar on his neck
and his smile is sensual and wistful. “Angelus took me… here… obliterated the
scar Dru left and drained me almost to dust and then over the course of the
next month he fed me himself, three times a day until my blood was no longer
truly hers but his. He became as much my Sire as she was perhaps more so. If
another Vampire feeds on me he’ll taste Angelus in my blood, the strength of my
blood, maybe Dru’s blood beneath that, and the power that is the Aurelius blood
beneath it all. I am the Childe of Angelus by his choice and by my
acquiescence. My Demon recognises him as Sire, the man in me recognises him… as
more.”
“So is it because he took Dru’s place that you’re still
bound to him?” Gabriel asks, trying hard to hide the twinge of jealousy that he
feels. His relationship with Spike may have evolved but for a time, he was his
and the thread of possessiveness still ties them together.
“No it’s when he did it for a second time.” Spike says
quietly.
“It was a pleasant time, Darla had been called away to
attend to her Sire’s whims and that left us free to indulge ourselves without
censure. We’d been out hunting and we stumbled across a Slayer, almost got
staked for our trouble. I was injured. I was still young back then, more than a
few years away from achieving Master-ship, too young to take on a Slayer with
even a faint hope of winning. Angelus was able to drive her off long enough to
get us away. We didn’t dare go back to where we were lairing in case she was
nearby, that would have left us vulnerable. He secreted us in a little used
alley nearby to a coach station and started to tend my wounds as best that he
could. If the Slayer tracked us down he figured he could carry me to a coach
and we’d escape both the Slayer and the sun in relative safety. He licked my
wounds clean and used his blood mixed with his saliva to close the wounds and
begin the healing process. It took him over an hour. He hid me in the alley and
left me several times to hunt, each time returning to feed me his blood between
feedings, taking a little of my own each time.” Spike recalls.
“Finally my wounds were almost healed and I wanted to feed
and return the care he’d given to me but Angelus refused to let me hunt alone
with a Slayer in the area. I lured several… interested people to me instead. It
was easy back then, alleys were common assignation spots for certain…
activities, especially between men of the time. I fed well and Angelus fed from
me and few things arouse a Vampire as easily as feeding and exchanging blood
with a member of one’s bloodline.” Spike drifts in the memory.
“He had already taken you from Drusilla so what effect did
the second claiming have?” Gabriel asks suspiciously.
“To understand that you have to understand just *how* a
vampire is created. It’s not like the movies or the books would lead you to
believe for the most part. Firstly, a Vampire doesn’t have to seduce a victim,
they don’t have to be willing, minion or Childe can be created without consent,
but curiously a Childe will be stronger if they *do* consent so they are often
seduced, courted, or tricked into accepting their Sires. Minions are drained
completely of their blood the Vampire then pierces their wrist and lets some
blood enter their mouths. That forms the mystical conduit that allows a Demon
to enter the body and reanimate it and a minion rises. It is essentially a
blank slate and knows but one thing, loyalty to the Vampire that spawned it;
nothing of their humanity remains, they are only Demons. It’s like… think of
them like newly hatch ducklings, they imprint on the first living thing that
they see, minions are almost the same, only they are bound the one who’s blood
spawned them.” Spike explains.
“Okay I think I get it. Because they have no ties to the
person they were, all they know is the one that created them and thus their
loyalty is absolute right?” Deacon says excitedly.
“Basically that’s right, it’s a bit more involved but that’s
basically how a minion is made and why.” Spike agrees, glancing over his
shoulder to smile at Deacon encouragingly. “When a Vampire chooses to sire a
Childe, they *aren’t* drained completely, they are allowed to retain some of
their blood prior to receiving the blood of their Sire. While the act of siring
renders them as subordinate to the Vampire that sires them, they retain a
greater degree of their humanity; the qualities that in most cases led to their
selection as Childer.”
“What’s the difference between siring and claiming?”
Deacon asks, his hand lifts to stroke the scarred over bite mark on his
shoulder, all but hidden beneath his shirt.
“In essence they are almost the same in that bonds are
created that tie one or more Vampires together. Sometimes a Sire will choose to
claim a Childe, often only their favourite is honoured so and the ties between
Sire and Childe are strengthened.” Spike explains. “A claim is in some ways a
deeper bond as it is forged between two fully developed Demons whereas a siring
bonds a Demon to what is in essence an infant.”
“Can a Vampire have more than one claim on them?” Gabriel
asks.
“No, a Demon will accept only one claim at a time, each
new claim supplants the old and takes its place.” Spike replies.
“But you said that
Angelus claimed you twice right? The first time, it was to wrest sire-ship from
Drusilla but what did the second do?”
“That is probably the
one facet of Vampire physiology, other than the stake, that books and movies
got at least partially right and it was all on accident. You know how the
oldest movies and books claim that a Vampire can only be created if the same
Vampire feeds from them three times and then and only then can they be turned?”
Spike asks with a sardonic grin.
Deacon and Gabriel nod having read or seen that in some of the old late night
horror movies. “Well as I explained that’s not true but there *is* a special
set of circumstances that does require it. While the first claim between
Vampires is commonplace, so much so that nearly every Vampire ever risen bears
a claim, it is far more rare to ever find a pair bound by additional claims for
a very specific reason. The second claim sets into motion what is a very
unattractive result for most Demons. It initiates the mating bond, the tightest
and most unbreakable of all the bonds that can bind Demon kind.”
Gabriel punches the
brake and hurriedly pulls the truck over and turns to stare at Spike with
disbelief in his eyes. Deacon leans over the back seat to rub his shoulders but
his eyes are locked on Spike’s emotionless face.
“As I said, Darla was a
poor Sire when it came to teaching
Angelus about the Lore and the traditions and dictates of Vampiric society. I
don’t think that he knew what that second claim would set in motion, though I
suspect that the Demon possesses at least an instinctual understanding of what
it meant, consciously he was ignorant to the import. I was young still
considered little more than a fledgling myself, I didn’t understand what was
happening and what I *should* have done when Angelus placed the second claim.
Neither of us knew and we’ve been paying for our ignorance for over a century.”
Spike says sadly.
“What do you mean? Are you or aren’t you Angelus’ mate?
And if you are then what does that make Angel to you, since he’s the souled
version of Angelus anyway?” Gabriel exclaims.
Spike reaches over and cups Deacon’s hand where it’s
resting on Gabriel’s shoulder. “Drive Gabriel and I’ll answer what I can ok?”
Gabriel takes a deep calming breath and pulls back out
onto the road and Spike continues his explanation. “You see mating is one bond
that can’t *be* forced. The second claiming Angelus gave me should have been
answered by one by me towards him but because I was too young and
inexperienced, I failed to recognise it and act accordingly. Basically I left
him at the altar with his vows already said.” Spike says heavily, a mournful
expression darkening his eyes to deep indigo blue.
“When it was safe we returned the lair and found that
Darla had returned. She ordered Angelus to pack his belongings; that he would
be returning to the Master’s court with her. Angelus tried to refuse her but
she was his Sire and her word was his law and he could not defy her. She took
him and ordered us to stay, as the Sire of our Sire we too were bound to obey
and we had no choice. Neither Dru nor I were strong enough to defy both Darla
and Angelus so we stayed as we were bidden. They were gone for almost a year
and when Angelus did eventually return, he bore no resemblance to the man that
I knew. He’d become hard, brutal, callous, and a dozen other unflattering
adjectives. As much as he’d come to care for me he now seemed to revile me. We
came to blows several times and blood became not a thing of pleasure but of
domination. He tried to break me and I took every opportunity to defy him until
at last we were little more than constant irritations to each other.
“What would that do to someone…?” Deacon asks nervously. “…To
have to live with a bond only half-formed?”
“Insanity by degrees and a century of the subconscious
knowing what we’ve been blind to. I began to have terrible nightmares not long
after my arrival in Port Townsend. Letty suggested that I try some meditation
techniques she knows and she began to instruct me in their use; to perhaps find
the reason for my nightmares and strange dreams. Letty showed me the way to
access my subconscious. Not only have I made peace with the Demon part of me
but thanks to you two, I’ve made my peace with my human part as well. I see
things that I was blind to before, the motivations that were working on me
silently and quietly. I knew the day would come that Angel would start to
realise this as I have but I didn’t think it would be so soon.” Spike says
softly, his eyes slipping closed as his mind turns inward.
So many things have been working against him; he has to
wonder if any decision has ever been truly his own. He was a truly a Childe but
Angelus could claim to be nothing more as well, both of them bound by a Lore
that none of their Elders could be bothered to teach them. They have been the
one to pay for their failure, Spike thinks silently. His pursuit of Buffy, he
now understands had less to do with her than it did Angelus. Almost everything
that had happened once he’d hit Sunnydale played to a fate larger than he was,
larger than them both. It is a fate that will bring them back together… sooner
rather than later. He descends into his memory as so many images flit across
his mind.
Gabriel starts to lift his hand to pat his shoulder but
Deacon intercepts it and curls his hand around it and leans forward to shake
his head. After a moment Gabriel nods and relaxes his arm, letting his hand
fall away and sighing as Deacon leans forward to press a kiss to the back of
his neck before sitting back in his seat. They leave Spike to his thoughts and
head for Deacon’s apartment and then… home.
Chapter
Ten
Angel
glances over as the steward wrestles the door closed and intercom’s the pilots
to let them know that the jet is secured, before hurrying to a seat and belting
himself in. His keen gaze brushes over a dozing Fred, leaning weakly against
Wesley’s shoulder, who is yawning widely and looking only half awake. It’s
taken them the better part of forty-eight hours to get their affairs in order
and set their plans in motion.
They
have been moving carefully and methodically, Wesley’s cleverness coming to the
fore with Fred’s assistance and they have slipped the reins that Wolfram &
Hart have so cleverly wrapped around them. It is truly a masterpiece of
engineering on all of their parts. Gunn believes Angel is on his way to the
Before their departure they plumbed the network for
highly sensitive material that has now been carefully distributed and
concealed safely. Even if they should be found by Wolfram & Hart they’ll
have the ammunition to force them to back off; it is also the means that will
protect Connor. They can disappear into anonymity safely, thanks to all of their
contacts and varied skills. Two days later they’re on the verge of new lives
but he knows that his new life can only begin in the embrace of his old one.
It’s time to go get Spike.
“Fred, Wes?” Angel says softly, then a little louder
when it fails to stirs the
sleepy pair. “Fred, Wes? We should discuss what we’re doing and then we can all
rest for the remainder of the trip.”
Wes
stirs first, nodding sleepily as Fred just sits blinking owlishly and allows
Wes to guide her to the dining area once the steward tells them it’s safe to
unbuckle their belts. Angel joins them and each sets their briefcases on the
table as they slide into the booth. Fred and Wes remove slender notebook-type
laptops from their briefcases as Angel removes a bulky array of file folders
that he neatly stacks on the table before moving the briefcase aside.
Yawning
Fred opens her laptop and accesses the program she lodged in a hidden file of
the master mainframe. With a key taps of the keys the program is activated and
it begins replicating through the system’s network to all the other Wolfram
& Hart divisions. She keeps an eye on the screen monitoring the spread of
the insidious virus she created with Wesley’s help for just such an eventuality
that they may be forced to flee Wolfram & Hart and require certain
assurances that they would prove difficult to track. Regretfully they all
determined that Gunn was irretrievably compromised by his relationship with Eve
and it was decided that they would leave without him. She turns her attention
to Wes as he opens his own laptop and calls up several files that he reviews
briefly as Angel does the same for the bulky files that he’s brought along.
“Ok
shall we begin?” Angel says gruffly but the thread of excitement in his voice
is a relief to his two friends that have been worried about him since their perhaps
ill-conceived sojourn at Wolfram & Hart.
“My
contacts came through for us.” Angel says proudly, sliding two thick folders
across the table, one towards Wes and the other towards Fred. “I decided it
would be best if we kept legal names near our own so Wes; you’re newly legal
name is Weston Sebastian Pryce the third. You were born to an English
ex-patriot that made his money in shipping and married into a well-to-do East
Coast family, the Kenyons of
Wes opens the folder and looks through the contents
and he’s amazed to see that everything he could possibly need is included in
the packet from a new social security card to bank account information and even
a perfectly legal looking birth certificate and passport. Out of curiosity he
opens the passport and has to shake his head at the attention to detail. It’s
even stamped and well used and shows a dual citizenship and what looks to be a
complete history spanning more than thirty some years of travel. He has to
admit that it’s a clever idea, to have a name
just enough alike to be familiar and comfortable but just different enough as
to not be immediately linkable to him.
“Fred
you were I admit, a little harder to ‘shop for’ as they say.
Your name is so distinctive that it was difficult to come up with a name that
would allow you to use Fred as a nickname. So I borrowed your Father’s middle
name and your Mother’s name to come up with a name I think you’ll like and can
live with. You’re name is Terri Frederica Burke. Since it’s unlikely you’ll
find many jobs in nuclear physics where we’re going my contact constructed you
a new scholastic and employment history that will allow you to use your other
skills to higher effect. I did have him make arrangements for you to keep your
physics doctorate though just on case. You double majored in Business and
computer programming so either of those should provide a lot of employment
opportunities.”
“What did you do for my parents Angel? I want to make
sure Wolfram & Hart can’t connect me to them or use them in any way. I know it’s harsh but did you do
as we discussed?” Fred opens the folder Angel gave her and looks through it.
“Yes,
it wasn’t that difficult though I’m not sure if I should be worried about that
or not. Your parents believe that you’re in the witness protection program. It
was easy to formulate a convincing scenario with some help from Wes. They
believe that you witnessed a mob execution and for your own safety that you’ve
been placed in the program and that for security purposes they should tell
everyone that you were killed in an auto accident. Wes falsified some documents
to that effect and your parents just want you to be safe so they’ve agreed.”
Angel replies. “Your new history lists you as an orphan from the age of
eighteen and that you have no living relatives other than an eccentrically
wealthy Great-Uncle that lives overseas and has given you a sizeable trust
fund. That should make the personal finances we’ve brought with us fairly
unnoticeable.”
“I’d
rather they be without me than with me and in danger. It’s for the
best.” Fred says sadly closing the cover of her folder, just as complex and
detail-filled as Wesley’s is. “I’ve already got a job.” Fred reveals, ducking
her head and pretending to look at the computer screen she’s monitoring as they
shoot her amazed looks. When she thinks she can control her urge to grin she
looks up and shrugs eloquently. “Wes told me where we were going so I logged
onto the internet and found some job listings. I’ve been hired to run the
office side of things for a small but lucrative investment concern. They’ve
even offered my housing as part of my employment package.”
“That’s wonderful Fred. I should have expected you to
surprise us as you’ve been doing that for as long as we’ve known you.” Wes says
with an affectionate smile.
“Well
I had a little help too. It turns out that I have a friend that lives a few
miles away who was able to put in a good word for me.”
Fred says shyly dropping her eyes.
“Tell her to put in a good word for us too!” Wes says
with a chuckle that Angel echoes.
Fred glances away to hide the flash of ire in her
normal sweetly placid eyes. They would of course assume it must be a woman; if
only they knew! “What about
you Angel?”
“Well
given the whole ‘Vampire’ thing, I’m already largely invisible as far as the
majority of the world is concerned. I’ve had an identity fashioned after my
original one. I’m Liam Padraig Cailean, son of a deceased Irish Father and an
American Mother, born in this country and an artist by trade. My Mother
remarried an eccentric older man and currently lives in the South of
“That’s
a clever idea, avoid them by hiding in plain sight.” Fred smiles brilliantly.
“If
they do find us then our insurance policies will assure that it’s less costly
to let us go than it is to try and get us back. I just wish that Gunn could
have come with us.” Wes says sadly.
“I
don’t think he’s been our friend since they stuffed his head full of who knows
what. They could have taken more than they gave. I think Gunn is little more
than a shell of the man we knew.” Fred replies wiping a tear from the corner of
her eye.
“I
think we still have someone there that we can trust to spread any gossip that
we may be interested in. Harmony may have been only a passable secretary but as
a spy she’s almost useful.” Angel says dryly. “A bit of money and a subtle
threat or two and the natural subservience of her Demon should make her fairly
reliable as a source of information but I don’t think we should rely on her.
She’ll follow whoever is strongest to avoid being a victim; it’s the Vampire
way for minions to survive.”
“I
called Lorne; he still has contacts within Wolfram & Hart that could be
valuable as well. He offered to try and keep an eye on Gunn but I told him that
could be too dangerous and that he should try and keep his distance. He asked
where we were going and I told him I wasn’t sure yet but that we’d try to get
word to him when we were settled. He said that he wished us luck and that he
thought we were all brave to leave while we could.” Fred states, dashing away
another tear as she glances at her computer screen and quickly reviews the
read-out. “Virus distribution is at eight-seven percent and multiplying
exponentially along projected perimeters. It should reach saturation within ten
minutes and the data cascade should begin at maximum density. It will eat their
data system to the bare infrastructure before they even realise what’s
happening to their system.”
“Well
done.” Angel praises. “What about the hard copies?”
“They’re
too arrogant to think that they need anything as old fashioned as hard copies
with the level of security and technology they employ. Just to be
sure though,
I arranged for a little accident to befall the basement files. I’m sure they’ll
be a bit surprised if they try to recover the hard copies with the Pyro Demon I
let lose in there and all.” Wes says with a big grin.
“Well whatever little survives won’t be worth much
with their penchant for burning everything in sight to ash and beyond.” Angel
replies pleased. “What progress have you made on your research project? Are you
positive that you’ve found him?”
“I’m
fairly certain, let’s say a good eighty to ninety percent certain that we’ll
find him in Port
“His
name is Gabriel Vincent Kane and contrary to appearances he is not altogether human
but is at least one-quarter Feryan Demon through his maternal bloodline. I
suspect that his Father may have be at least part Demon as well but I’ve found
precious little information on his Father. His Mother however is fairly well
known in certain circles as a Healer and a Mystic of no small ability. Leticia
Kane is in fact a very formidable woman by all accounts who was left to raise
Gabriel alone when her husband or Mate suffered an untimely death.” Wes recites
glancing over at his notes now and then to refresh his memory. “He is currently
the Sheriff of Port Townsend, a job he’s held for the last eight years. He
shares a home with his Mother Letty and a William Seth Faulkner, a Deputy
Detective in the Port Townsend Police Department.”
Angel
jerks upright his eyes widening in shock. “What did you say?” He demands.
“William Seth Faulkner?” He growls. “That’s Spike!” Angel slumps back muttering
darkly under his breath.
“Then
it would seem that the decision to head there is a prudent one.” Wes says
simply before continuing his report. He taps some keys and a second picture is
highlighted. “This man is Captain Deacon Ballard, he’s currently the youngest
fire station chief in Seattle and it’s rumoured that his involved with Gabriel
Kane in a long term relationship. I haven’t had time to find out much more than
his name and what he does and that he lives in
“You’ve
managed to find out more than I expected since we’ve had so much to do in
preparation for leaving. I trust you attempted to do some background checks on
William Faulkner.” Angel leans back and steeples his fingertips under his chin.
“Attempted is the correct word and
judging by your expression you expected that would be my answer.” Wes says with
a small grin. “I’ve been able to find some sketchy information only as it seems
much of the information is encrypted with a surprising level of skill. I’ve
been running some decryption protocols but so far I’m not having much luck
cracking the layers of protection they’ve layered over their systems. I have
however discovered some interesting facts about Port Townsend itself.” Wes
types in some commands and a small slide show of Port Townsend begins to play
across the screen.
“Maximum
density achieved, data cascade in five… four… three… two… one… activated.” Fred
interrupts to quietly inform them. “I’ve set it to take out the area of maximum
concerns first and then to the less high risk systems after that. LA, New York,
Chicago, Washington D.C. and Detroit will be first, the others will
simultaneously begin their conflagration cascades once
“Well done both of you! That won’t destroy them but
maybe it will distract them for a few years from doing anything major while
they reconstruct over a millennium’s worth of files and essential information.
Please precede Wes.” Angel
smiles warmly at the pair.
Wes
turns his attention back to his report as Fred keeps a quiet eye on the
progress of their nasty little surprise for Wolfram & Hart.
“During
my research I’ve discovered that Port Townsend actually has a small but thriving
Demon community. Now that’s not unusual by any means as most cities of any reasonable
size will support communities of varying sizes. What I did find unusual however
is the level of integration that exists in Port Townsend. Demons are actually
accepted in the general populace and in some cases encouraged to take up
residence. I’ve found instances of Demons holding public offices, running
businesses, and in one surprising case, serving as the
“If Demons really are a part of their community then that
could explain why the level of security on their databases is so extreme. They could be
trying to protect the privacy of their less… human… neighbours and provide a
way for them to be contributing members of the society. If they’re owning
businesses and holding public office then they’d need to have certain
documentation, at least on paper if not in fact.” Fred taps the thick folder
Angel gave to her.
“That’s
an excellent observation Fred and I think it’s the correct one. It would make
sense and actually be easy as the Sheriff, Mayor, and several members of the
city council are to my knowledge at least part Demon; they’re in the ideal
position to assist others of their ilk.” Wes glances through his notes, turning
the pages several times. “There is also evidence that at least one Senator and
several members of the House of Representatives may also have some ties to Port
Townsend as I suspect do several Mayors of other larger urban cities in
“
“I
suspect that’s due to a combination of factors at this point. Port Townsend
does have a reputation in certain circles as a place not to go starting trouble.” Wes notes.
“Well
I’m sure Spike and his little law buddy have more than a little to do with
that. Spike protects his own and if he’s decided that Port Townsend is his then
he will defend it and her citizens. Were you able to find out anything about
his life since he’s been there Wes?”
“Only
some pretty bare facts, some of which we found out on our first visit. He is
listed as a Deputy in Port Townsend charged with investigation powers and I did
find a record of his attendance at a registered Academy so his credentials in
that regard are, I believe, genuine. He is a frequent visitor to
“What
sort of ‘performances’ Wes? If he’s stripping; I don’t want to know about it!”
Angel snarls.
“Actually…
he sings.” Wes chokes out, trying to bite back a snigger knowing that Angel
won’t appreciate it if he laughs at him. “He has a small casual band consisting
of friends, including Gabriel Kane and Deacon Ballard. They play small clubs
and other venues to support various shelters and other assistance programs
around their area. It’s really quite an upstanding thing to do really.”
“He’s
singing… in public. He used to sing sometimes… then he stopped.” Angel drops
his eyes.
Wes
resists the urge to comfort Angel; for so long he’s appeared like a fly trapped
in amber, frozen and immoveable but now it appears a thaw is at hand and if the
pain is encouraging him back to life than he’ll have to let it work its will.
He leans over his computer and types in some commands once he finds the file
he’s looking for.
The
pictures on the screen disappear and a test pattern appears finally resolving
into a smaller image that shakes faintly betraying the amateur hand in its
recording. The image is of a small bar; the sort you can see on any street
corner in
“Welcome to the Minefield, my name is Wil and my
friends and I would like to play for you tonight. We ask that you please reach
deep and contribute whatever you can when they pass the donation plate; we’re performing for the Sister of
St. Bernadette’s orphanage. Together we can make Christmas happen for a lot of
children so please help us to make a large donation to them tonight.”
Angel
shivers as the sound of that whiskey smooth voice. It dances over his skin like
caressing fingers, slipping inside to stroke parts of him that have been asleep
for so long and seducing them to throbbing life. His eyes are glued to those
slender and graceful fingers as they move to stroke over the strings of the
guitar coaxing a sweet melody from the silent strings. His shivers as the
memory of those hands dancing across his body and the music they once
seduced from his body comes back to him in treble time.
There's another world
inside of me
That you may never see
There're secrets in this
life
That I can't hide
Somewhere in this darkness
There's a light that I can't find
Maybe it's too far away...
Maybe I'm just blind...
Maybe I'm just blind...
Angel,
Wes, and Fred watch and listen, soon finding themselves swaying to the skill
that only one of them knew that Spike possessed. Spike’s voice is husky and his
usually pronounced accent softens and smoothes out to a soft inflection that
betrays an upper class origin rather then the rough thug’s life usually
attributed to Spike in the history books. Wes realises that he doesn’t actually
know much about Spike… or Angel for that matter. Books are biased and never
more so then when a group of people are trying to convince themselves that
their practice of hunting and killing Demons is the only solution to dealing
with them. He wonders if his indoctrination by the Watchers Council has
actually blinded him rather than opened his eyes to the truth. The proof is
before him in his own research. The people and Demons of Port Townsend are
finding ways to co-exist why couldn’t that happen in the rest of the world?
So hold me when I'm
here
Right me when I'm wrong
Hold me when I'm scared
And love me when I'm gone
Everything I am
And everything in me
Wants to be the one
You wanted me to be
I'll never let you down
Even if I could
I'd give up everything
If only for your good….
Angel
scowls as he realises that Gabriel Kane’s pleasant bass-toned voice and the
harmonic tenor tones of Deacon Ballard sound so right paired to Spike’s smoothly
rhythmic cadence. He wanted them to sound discordant… not like they belonged.
The small clip ends and he can’t say that he’s sorry to see the proof of the
life Spike’s built without him fade away. It’s over now, he’s back and his
Childe will return to his place at
his side.
Chapter
Eleven
The
landing was smooth and the weather was nasty as befits the
The
pilot smiles hugely as Angel hands him an envelope stuffed with a not
inconsiderable amount of money and he nods eagerly. The crew’s smiles are touched
with tinges of greed as Angel hands each of them, including the pilot smaller
envelopes but they fade to fearful worry as Angel steps closer and says
something to each of them. He looms over them as each gives a frantically
fearful nod before he steps back and plasters a fake sociable grin across his
face as he shakes their hands. As soon as the last of their things is
off-loaded the crew scrambles back aboard the jet as Angel joins Wes for the
walk to the terminal, a trio of porters following in their wake.
Fred closes her laptop and secures it in its case and
walks over to join them. “The virus has run its course. We even managed to get
a couple of new offices I hadn’t heard they were opening and some of the
smaller research and local offices that were connected to the network. It’s
possible that some of the smaller holdings may not have been connected to the
network at the time and escaped the virus but I left a little surprise for them
too. Before we left I lodged about a hundred nasty little worm programmes
into their network infrastructure. Each one is programmed to either activate at
a prearranged time, randomly or as a result of certain routine processes that I
hid the programmes
inside. They’ll never find them all and it will routinely destroy key systems at unpredictable
intervals. Since the networking system is independent and spread across their
whole infrastructure it’s unlikely they’ll think to replace it when they
replace the computers and servers since it doesn’t directly interface the
network on its own.” Fred smiles and explains further when she sees the glazed looks in
their eyes.
“Normally a network infrastructure of this type
functions like a highway; it provides certain set routes to deliver
and retrieve information to the appropriate systems and databases. Normally
this pathway is inert. The work of data transfer is carried off by various programmes,
processes, and such which are like the cars. What I did was use a variation of
the virus Wes and I came up with and I hid it in the road itself which is
normally benign and harmless. At various times and through various means as I
said, one of the viruses will awaken, attach itself to a ‘car’ and use that to
deliver itself into a mainframe where it will spread like it did earlier. It
could be a year, four years; they’ll have no way to predict it and therefore
little chance of finding and stopping them all.”
“Oh I get it!” Angel sounds surprised and they all
laugh. “The only way to prevent it from happening would be to rip out and
rebuild all the highways, which they won’t think they’ll have to do since
ordinarily it doesn’t do anything harmful. That would be really expensive
right?” Angel sounds smug.
“If
they were to do a complete overhaul of the system, at their level of sophistication
it would cost roughly forty-seven billion dollars. If they leave the network
infrastructure in place they can rebuild at a substantially reduced cost.” Fred
says with a nod of satisfaction.
“And
that would leave them vulnerable to the little souvenirs you left for them.”
Wes grins and hugs Fred tightly, causing her to blush and stumble faintly.
“That’s ruddy brilliant Fred!”
“Won’t they be able to hire hackers to find them
though?” Angel asks confused, he blushes faintly as Wes and Fred grin to hear
him using a modern day word like ‘hackers’ correctly. Computers and Angel have
never formed a very workable relationship.
“That’s not very likely due to the magical aspect of
their shielding. Unless their hackers also happen to be magically inclined and
know what they’re looking for they won’t find them all but they may find some
of them that’s true. Since
they’re harmless bits of magic sheathed coding until they activate it is
unlikely that any sort of ‘hostile entity’ search will work either. We’ve got
them and they invited us in. If they happen to manage to track the source of
the ‘infestation’ Eve is going to have a lot of explaining to do.” Fred’s grin
is frankly a wickedly pleased one. “Wes and I broke into her office and used
her computer to access the areas we needed.”
Angel
stops in mid-step and bends over laughing so hard he has to brace his palms on
his knees. “That’s classic. It’s almost enough to make me want to go back and
see the look on her face if that happened.” He wheezes weakly as Wes and Fred
look smug and satisfied. “If Gunn comes
to harm, make sure that they find out
whose computer was used to destroy their precious Databases.” Angel says coolly
once he’s calmed down and they’ve resumed walking. “Though I suspect with that
whatever he let them shove into his head there isn’t much left of the Gunn that
we knew.”
“He
chose this path Angel. He deliberately hid what he was planning to do knowing
that we’d stop him if he told us about it. He lied to us and he snuck off and
sold his soul to the Devils.” Wes’ voice is flat and unemotional. He’s agonized
over Gunn’s situation for long enough and unlike the other friends that they’ve
lost, he chose to walk to his fate fully understanding its cost; so he will not
grieve for him.
“Isn’t
there any way to help him?” Angel asks sadly and redundantly; he’s asked that
same question a dozen times over since they set their plan to leave Wolfram
& Hart for good into motion.
“There
may have been before he got involved with Eve but she’s only tightened whatever
influence over him that they already had.” Fred replies sadly. “There’s just no
way for us to tell what they pumped into his brain that he may not consciously
realise is there. He could betray us without even realising that he has. I
researched it thoroughly when he told us what he’d let them do to him and I
found no way to reverse it because he accepted it willingly.”
“It’s
rather like a person inviting a Vampire into their home, once they do, they
become powerless and exist only at the whim of something more powerful then
they are. Vampires are rarely known to be in merciful or generous moods and I
rather suspect that Wolfram & Hart is more ruthless still. Even if we could
somehow free Gunn from Eve and remove what they did to him, we could never
completely trust him again. We did what we had to do. I’d rather know that he’s
alive if a puppet on a string somewhere then bring him with us and face that we
may one day be forced to kill him when he turns on us.” Wes’ voice is cool unemotional
steel.
Fred
glances around and surreptiously strokes the cameo hanging from her throat, the
warm tingle beneath her fingertips comforting her. A flare of warmth beneath
her fingertips sends a smile fleeting across her lips. She knows he’s nearby.
“What
arrangements did you make Wes?” Angel asks, looking over his shoulder to make
sure the group of porters is still trailing them towards the large main doors
that guard the entrance.
“I’ve
made arrangements with a real estate agency in Port Townsend tomorrow to show
us some nice places they have listed. I sent them the list of requirements that
you gave me and they were positive that they had several listings that would
meet the requirements. We can amend that slightly since Fred’s already got a
place to live and a new job.” Wes smiles proudly and she blushes and looks
away. “I made some reservations at a Hotel near the docks where we can catch
the ferry service to Port Townsend tomorrow… or tonight… whatever it is.” Wes
glances at his watch. “Yeah, tomorrow it is.” He says with a grin and a shrug.
“That will give us time to make the other arrangements; including buying a car
and some of the things we’ll need and make arrangements for them to be sent to
Port Townsend. I’ve rented a fairly large unit in one of the twenty-four hour Storage
facilities there. I’ve made some inquiries and the ferry service also operates
a freight service so we can ship whatever we buy over to the storage unit. The
real estate agency is open late and I made an appointment for nine in the
evening, that should give us a couple of hours to attend to things here and of
course we can always come back for anything else.” Wes leads them through the
doors and they all shudder in unison and pull their jackets tighter around them
in deference to the less than welcoming weather.
“What about you Fred? Did you make other
arrangements?” Angel asks curiously; not sure why Fred had waited so
long to let them know that she’d been working on her own arrangements all
along. Suddenly a familiar tremor quakes down his spine and he starts to scan
his surroundings as Spike steps out of the shadows cast by the overhanging roof
of the building.
Spike moves forward with a warm smile, his arms
opening as Fred darts forward with a joyful leap and a happy peal of
laughter, only to be caught up in a hug. “Hey there Kitten.” Spike spins her
around and sets her down carefully, keeping an arm wrapped around her
shoulders.
“Hello Spike.” Wes steps forward and extends his hand
to shake hands with Spike.
“Hey Wes, how was your flight?” Spike asks with a grin.
“It
was very satisfying.” Wes admits with a grin. “You seem to have been expecting
us.”
“…For
quite some time.” Spike says distractedly as he releases Fred to step closer to
Angel, stopping until their chests are almost touching, tilting his head back
slightly to meet his eyes. “Sire.”
Angel’s
eyes fly open wide as Spike inclines his head in the age old symbol of respect
known worldwide. He sucks in a startled breath as Spike takes that final step
forward and their chests touch. He meets his eyes and then slowly tilts his
head back and to the side, baring his throat.
It is a show of deference that occurs almost solely between Childe; who
is acknowledging their place as a subordinate; and their Sire. He is trembling as he leans down to press his
lips over the scar that marks their past history on Spike’s throat. He shudders
in reaction and inhales shakily as his arms curl around
Spike’s powerful form and yanks him closer as his scent floods through him. After
all this time he can still smell his scent underlying his Childe’s as he
inhales deeply, as his tongue flicks out to brush teasingly against the
sensitive skin dimpled by the scar. It suddenly strikes him what this showing
is about and he releases Spike and steps back. It is a Childe welcoming his
Sire to his territory. “Childe.”
“Welcome back to
“Are
you planning to take us somewhere?” Angel asks curiously.
“I’m
taking you home.” Spike says quietly, steering Fred towards the truck when he
feels her shivering under his arm. He carefully helps her into the truck,
lifting her easily into the high vehicle. He nods to Wes who has followed him.
“Mind helping Fred buckle up Wes?” He asks with a wink that has a blushing
Wesley hurriedly climbing into back seat alongside Fred. Spike waits for him to
get settled and then closes the door and returns to Angel.
“Spike
what are you up to?” Angel asks suspiciously. “You’re being entirely too
pleasant.” Angel gasps as he’s suddenly looking up at Spike standing over him,
rubbing the sting out of a lightly curled fist.
“Feel
better?” Spike asks crouching and holding his hand out with a grin daring Angel
to trust him.
Angel
rubs his jaw and thinks for a moment. “Yep, familiar is a good thing.” He takes
Spike’s hand and lets him pull him to his feet. “You didn’t answer my question.
Why are you doing this?”
“Something
I saw in a dream maybe?” Spike smiles enigmatically, walking away to tip the
other two porters; with swish of his hips that draws Angel’s eyes to his
swinging hips like a magnet pulling iron shavings as he stalks
around the front of the truck and gets in.
“Hey! What does that mean?!” Angel demands charging
for the truck and hurriedly climbing inside.
Spike doesn’t answer, only chuckling and starting the
truck before moving
smoothly into the flow of traffic. “There are two suites reserved at the Palace
Hotel in town and Letty will meet you at the Real Estate office at eight. There
are some nice shops in town and you can probably find anything that you like
there but if not the ferry runs on a regular schedule; they’ll have copies of
the schedule at the Hotel. Your transportation is taken care of as well, Spike
reaches up and pulls down the sun visor and catches the keys that tumble down
and tosses them to Angel. “It’s waiting on the Ferry; Clem was nice enough to
drive it there for you. Letty asked me to let you know that she expects you at
our place for dinner after your business tomorrow is over. I’d suggest just
saying yes because she doesn’t take no for an answer.”
“Where is your… friend, Mr. Kane?” Angel asks, trying to sound polite
rather than insatiably curious.
“Gabriel
got a call about a break-in from one of the travel properties so he stayed to
check it out. He’ll probably be there to meet us at the dock when we land at
Townsend.”
“Oh
happy, happy, joy, joy.” Angel mutters, ignoring Spike’s not so muffled
snickers.
“I
assume that your arrival isn’t a coincidence Spike.” Wes observes.
“No,
it’s not a coincidence.” Spike confirms, glancing in the rear view mirror and
smiling at Fred.
“I
let him know that we were arriving tonight.” Fred says quietly, flinching
lightly as Angel turns to stare at her looking a little betrayed and hurt by
her now apparent culpability in Spike’s disappearance.
“I
take it that you know the person Fred will be working for.” Wes curiously
doesn’t sound surprised that Fred has maintained a relationship with Spike.
“Whom
she’ll be working with and yes
intimately.” Spike confirms. “She’ll be safe as houses.”
Wes
leans back with a smile, his arms crossing over his chest. Suddenly his
concerns about Fred seem to be fairly foolish.
“How
‘intimately’ are we talking here?” Angel demands brusquely.
“As
‘intimate’ as it gets Angel. Unless I’m mistaken Fred will be working for….”
Spike clears his throat gruffly and Wesley amends his statement with a smile.
“…With, Fred will be working with
Spike.”
“Doing
what pray tell; holding your hand while you play Law & Order?” Angel asks
snidely.
“I’ve
made some fortunate investments and I’ve been very successful but it is a bit
of a chore to keep track of everything and attend to the day to day details of
my investments. Fred’s agreed to help me out and oversee my concerns. We have a
spare room in our home so she’ll be a welcome addition to the family. I suspect
Clem will be moving out soon to live with his girl Maria so there’ll be more
room soon and Letty does so enjoy having people to take care of, so everyone
benefits.”
“That
would be Kane’s house?” Angel asks in a mumble.
“It’s
actually my house; custom-built since I had some special construction issues.
That reminds me when you choose where you’re going to move, Letty can make
arrangements for the local Coven to make some adjustments to make it safer for
you.” Spike replies with a shrug.
“That’s
fascinating; what kind of adjustments can they make?” Wesley asks intrigued.
“The
local Coven is very powerful and extremely clever. They’ve found a way to make
it so that Vampires need an invitation to enter, even though as the home of a
Vampire it’s considered a lair and therefore ordinarily exempt
from the invitation rule. They’ve also perfected a combination spell
that functions somewhat like the necro-tempered glass that you had at Wolfram
& Hart. It protects the entire property though, not just the windows, you
could even stand outside as long as you were within the limits of the spell’s
boundary. It’s a very complex and powerful spell and each time it’s used it
requires the mystical strength of the majority of the Coven to cast it.”
“That’s astonishing! But a spell that complex and powerful
would be nearly impossible to maintain for any length of time and the wards and
binding components would need to be recharged constantly in some fashion to
ensure they’d work correctly. How did they get around that problem?” Wes asks
excitedly.
“There’s
a real bit of irony for you Wes. They use a holy relic or other powerful item
and bind it to the spell; it functions as a self-replenishing battery of sorts.
The relic charges the spell and the spell in turn discharges its energies back
into the relic like an alternating current. Unfortunately due to the power
consumption needed, it has to be stationary but they have been working on a
smaller, more portable version. I’ve tested a couple of the prototypes and so
far they’re only good for a few minutes at a time but sometimes that’s all you
need to turn the tide of a fight or make good an escape.” Spike reaches up and
brushes his fingertips over the gold and amber stud in his left earlobe.
“They’re
attempting to recreate the research that led to the creation of the Ring of
Amara?” Wes sounds utterly enthralled by the concept. “Is that possible in this
day and age?”
“If
anyone can do it then the
“The Fall River Clan; Port Townsend has a
chapter of the
“Calm
down Wes before you rupture something!” Angel snickers amused by Wes’
infectious excitement.
“The
“That’s
wonderful but mind translating that for the rest of us?” Angel asks dryly.
“Usually
a Coven is made up of members that are all from related disciplines if not from
the same one; all witches or wizards or sorcerers or druidic… and so forth.”
Wes explains. “The
“He
means that some of the members are witches but not all of them are. There are
also Shamans from various tribes, sorcerers, healers, druids, and even some
rare diabolists and necromancers that have reformed. They all lend their skills
and their powers to the Coven as a whole, rather like a Scottish Clan, hence
their name.” Spike translates with a slight grin. “Their tenets are rather
unusual in that they are rather ‘maverick’ compared to most Covens. Their
spells are almost exclusively protective in nature but they are built to
function like mirrors or mini-reactors. The more negative energy directed
against them, the stronger its protective field becomes, it’s a wonder of
passive-aggressive engineering. No member of the Coven will ever directly harm
another living being but they have no moral objection to the actions of the
aggressor causing harm to their selves. Think of it like this, if a member of
the Coven were forced to defend themselves or another person by casting a
shielding spell and then an aggressor were to persist in an attack and eventually
harm themselves or worse, then that is within their tenets.”
“Because
they acted only to protect and it was the actions of the person that got
themselves hurt?”
“That’s
right Fred.” Spike praises. “They will not directly harm another living being
by their own actions, not even at the cost of their lives if that is what must
be. They’re a fascinating group really.”
“In
fact if memory serves me correctly, I seem to recall that Giles made use of
their services for a time when
“You
sound like you know a lot about them, Spike.” Wes notes.
“Letty
once led the
“No wonder Port Townsend has a reputation for not
being the kind of place that you want to start trouble in.” Wes notes amused
and eager to meet fellow practitioners of the mystical arts.
“I
suspect that they’ll call around to see you Watcher. Your skills and knowledge
are valuable assets and they’ll likely enquire whether you wish to join their
number.” Spike notes with a smile.
“Oh that would be marvellous, I could learn a lot.”
Wes says pleased.
Spike takes the off-ramp and turns down a small access
road that brings them to the ferry docks within a few minutes. He’s waved
through with a cheerful smile and a greeting from the crew members and drives
up the ramp and neatly into place behind another vehicle before shutting off
the engine and hopping out. He leans
in through the still open door. “It will be another fifteen minutes or so
before we leave and about an hour and twenty minutes until we arrive in
Townsend. I’d suggest heading inside, it’s warmer there and they usually have
some hot drinks and snacks to keep you comfortable.” Spike smiles and steps
back closing the door and heading to the back and rummaging around for
something before they hear the doors close and see Spike walking towards the outer
stairway that leads up to the wheelhouse carrying a large case.
Chapter
Twelve
Angel
turns and looks over the seat and his expression gentles as he sees Fred
huddled in her coat; without the truck’s heater running it’s growing colder by
the minute. “We should probably listen to Spike and go inside.” Angel turns
away and opens his door, taking the opportunity to hide his amazed expression.
Somehow out of all the things he thought he would say in life, an endorsement
for Spike is one he hadn’t expected. A jingle sound catches his attention as he
steps out of the truck and he remembers the keys that spike tossed at him and
fishes them out of his pocket. He turns them over in his hand and bounces them
considering his options as he turns and watches Wes lift Fred carefully out of
the truck and start leading her inside.
He
fingers the small alarm remote and presses the button and listens. The flashing
of a set of lights and the strident whine of an alarm deactivating draws his
eyes and he stares at the blood red Camero and shakes his head in amazement.
Trust Spike to return his car and make it seem like a grand gesture! He strolls
over to the car and runs his hand lightly along the trim, despite the inclement
weather that can be brutal on cars due to the effects of rain, snow, ice, and
salt, it looks spotless. It’s obvious that Spike has been taking careful care of it and
he’s somehow touched that he would have bothered; maybe he was telling the
truth when he said he’d been expecting them for quite a while.
He reactivates the alarm and tosses the keys up and
catches them with a smile and a chuckle before pocketing them and turning to
head for the large lounge. He’s surprised to see that there are quite a few
more people than he would have expected to see so late in the evening. Many of
them appear to be dressed in the semi-casual work clothes that seem to dominate
the working environment these days so he assumes they’re headed home after a
long day at work in the city. It takes him a moment to find Fred and Wes,
sitting near a corner of the room already sipping from steaming Styrofoam cups
of something or other. He starts to head through the crowd and somehow,
somewhere along the way his hand seems to have sprouted a steaming cup of cider
and a small plate with a large pastry of some sort just seems to appear in his
other hand along the way.
He notices that Fred’s eyes widen as they fall on the
large flaky pastry and she licks her lips reflexively and he gallantly hands
her the plate with a smile. “Here you go Fred.”
“Thank
you Angel.” Fred smiles and breaks off a piece of the pastry and hands it to
Wesley who takes it with a smile. “Have you seen Spike?”
“I
saw him heading for the bridge or whatever they call it after he got out of the
truck and I don’t think he’s come back down yet; he must know the Captain.”
Wes
looks around. “There are a lot of people in here, I’m not sure we could see him
if he was in here.” He observes with some amusement. “This seems to be a fine
service though I must say, maybe the finest I’ve been on to date. Most Ferry
services make people pay for their refreshments and the décor is truly lovely,
very comfortable but not overly flowery. I’m impressed.”
“Why
thank you for the glowing endorsement.” A woman’s voice has their heads turning
and they see an attractive dark haired petite young woman approaching them. She
is holding the hand of a floppy skinned Demon that sparks an ember of
recognition in Angel but he can’t place him right away.
The
young woman is lovely but her appearance isn’t what one could considered
‘mainstream’ unless one were used to seeing the club fashions of the day. A
long-sleeved, off-the-shoulder black jumpsuit with attached flat-soled boots defines
a short but well-proportioned body. Over the jumpsuit is a thigh length
gossamer tunic made of some filmy material that may as well be made up of air
and good intentions for as much coverage as it offers. Its full sleeves flare
from the shoulders to the wrists where tailored cuffs draw the
material in neatly.
A wide scarlet red waist-cinchier type belt is laced over her abdomen, dipping
to a low vee below her navel tailoring the black gossamer over-shirt to her
curvaceous form. Despite the warmth of the heaters a chill lingers in the air
and she’s warded herself against the chilly breezes with a large fluffily thick
scarlet dyed cashmere shawl. Her nails are long and end in sharp points, each
arrayed in brilliantly hued scarlet, the tips sheathed in a metallic black
polish and a large diamond and onyx ring graces her ring finger.
The Demon at her side is large and powerfully built
but his expression is one of pure gentleness and humour. It’s obvious from his
deferential treatment of the young woman that his feelings for her are both
deep and genuine and very mutually shared judging by the much larger twin to her ring that graces his ring
finger. He may be large and powerful but it’s obvious that the petite young
woman has him wrapped around her slender fingers.
Angel
looks around surreptiously and he’s surprised to see that more than one person
in the crowd is at least partially Demon-blood and they all seem
well-accustomed to the sight of their less than human companions on this Ferry
ride.
“Welcome
aboard the Moonwhisp.” The Demon says with a jovial smile. “I’m not sure if you
remember me Angelus but my name is Clem and I’m a friend of Spike’s from
Sunnydale.”
Angel
smiles as the name jogs his memory. “Of course I
remember you Clem! It’s great to see you. It’s good to know that you got out of
Sunnydale in time.” He shakes hands with the likeable Demon that has always
struck him as a gentle soul on the few occasions that they’ve crossed paths.
“These are my friends Wes and Fred.” Angel introduces his companions with a
minimum of details, unsure of what Spike may have told the pair about them.
“We’ve all heard of the marvellous Fred.” The young
woman says with a genuine smile. “Everyone in Port Townsend is looking forward
to meeting the amazing Fred. Spike’s told us about all of you, we’re pleased
that you’ve decided to make your home amongst us.” Her voice is faintly coloured by a soft accent that seems
to fall somewhere between Spanish and French.
“This
is my beautiful Maria.” Clem says proudly. “We’re going to be married this
summer.”
“Congratulations.”
They all chime together, finding themselves liking the charming couple.
“Thank
you.” Maria says smiling boldly. “It took me a year to talk the big softy into
it but he gave in eventually.” She says with a hearty chuckle, waving her hand
expressively as she wraps her free arm around the powerfully muscled arm of her
mate-to-be.
They
all chuckle, charmed as Clem blushes and looks down shyly. “I just didn’t
understand what you see me in Maria.” He mumbles embarrassed.
“I
see a warm, funny, and wonderful person that is as beautiful inside as he is
outside. Now kiss me.” She orders in a friendly tone that is clearly loving and
trusting and Clem obliges by leaning down and doing as she asked before
blushing and looking away shyly. Maria shakes her head and smiles, patting him
on the shoulder comfortingly. “Thank you for kind words, we’ve worked very hard
at making this Ferry company the best in
“Oh
wow, golly, you own this Ferry service?” Fred asks impressed.
Maria
nods happily. “I run the office side of things but my Clem, he loves the water.
He’s the senior Captain for the Fleet.” Her pride shines through in the smile
she shoots at Clem that sets him off in another run of blushing and embarrassed
foot shuffling.
“Ah
you’ll be piloting us to our new home then.” Wes says with a smile.
“One
of our other Captains will be handling that honour this evening. Clem and I
just came along to meet you and welcome you personally.” Maria says warmly.
“Plus I never pass up a chance to hear Wil sing, especially when he promises to
sing my favourite song for me.” Maria grins excitedly.
Just
then the soft thrumming of a guitar heralds the bass rumbling beneath their
feet as the ferry’s powerful engines start up, moving them smoothly out into
the chill waters.
“Welcome
to the Water-Trails Ferry line, my name’s Spike, some of you may know me and
for the rest of you, you’ll know me soon enough and thank me for the pleasure.”
Spike’s voice purrs through the PA system and he chuckles huskily amid the
cheers, whistles, and cat calls.
Angel
stands and climbs up onto his chair and looks around for a moment before diving
into the growing crowd, his powerful form parting the sea of bodies as easily
as a shark scattering fish from its path. Shooting looks at each other Wes grabs
Fred’s hand as he and Clem follow Angel.
They find Angel at the head of a large assemblage of
people. Rather than sitting in one of the passenger chairs Spike is sitting on
the floor near one of the corners where a small stage has been set up. He’s
sitting on the small steps, with a lovely rosewood and mahogany
acoustic guitar balanced on his thighs, his feet splayed on the two steps
leading up to the stage. Angel is currently looming over several chairs and
they are unsurprisingly unoccupied and he gracefully gestures to the empty
seats with a smile and Clem, Maria, Wes, and Fred gratefully accept. All of the
chairs now taken Angel starts towards a corner when Spike reaches out to catch
his hand as he passes and gestures to the stage beside him with a smile and a
nod of his head. Angel hurriedly takes him up on the offer and sprawls beside
him, angling onto his hip so that he can keep Spike in full view.
“This is my old, old, ooooooooold friend Angel
everyone and don’t let the name fool you because he isn’t one.” Spike says with
a wink toward Angel and a grin
for the crowd. “A very good friend of mine has asked for a special request and
I promised that I would sing it for her but I’d like to dedicate it to some
special people myself. For everyone that believes in ghosts and that gave me
something to believe in.” Spike adjusts the cordless mic clipped to his shirt
and taps it lightly to make sure its working right and with a smile aimed at
Angel he gives himself to his music. “Maria, here’s your song.”
Spike’s
fingertips dance across the chords and a simple bit of wood, wire, and
artisan’s blood makes a sound that could make the Heavens weep.
Every time I look at you the world just melts away
All my troubles all my fears dissolve in your affections
You've seen me at my weakest but you take me as I am
And when I fall you offer me a softer place to land
Maria
smiles at Spike as she threads her arms around one of Clem’s powerful biceps
and leans her head on his shoulder sniffling tearfully.
Angel
is surprised when Spike turns to look at him, those wondrous eyes of his
looking into his soul even as his own are set with a million stars that shine
in his eyes.
You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all
together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you
complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe
The
song is beautiful in lyric and sound; Spike’s slightly husky voice adding a
depth and counter-note that only reinforces the graceful music’s lilting melody.
Spike
pours his heart into the song as his eyes stay locked on Angel as he sings for
Maria and Clem and for friends lost and those so recently reclaimed. He sings
his farewell to the past and heralds the future full of possibilities and
second chances.
I get mad so easy but you give me room to breathe
No matter what I say or do 'cause you're too good to fight
about it
Even when I have to push just to see how far you'll go
You won’t stoop down to battle but you never turn to go
You stay the course you hold the line you keep it all
together
You're the one true thing I know I can believe in
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you
complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe
Eyes
widen and the room is suddenly deprived of oxygen for a heartbeat as a
collective gasp of wonder thunders over the crowd as a soft whisky-tinged
brogue singing along in wordless harmony is picked up by the sensitive
microphone clipped to Spike’s guitar strap.
Spike
plays on with a joyful smile as the words of the song float out as a sudden
duet. He knows that Angel has never let anyone hear him sing in his true voice,
the rolling accent as soft as clover and growing moss and as strong as the
pounding sea.
Your love is just the antidote when nothing
else will cure me
There are times I can’t
decide when I can't tell up from down
You make me feel less
crazy when otherwise I'd drown
But you pick me up and
brush me off and tell me I'm OK
Sometimes that’s just
what we need to get us through the day
Spike
pitches his voice into countermeasure, his voice taking on the soft Irish lilt
as he translates the next stanza of the song to Irish Gaelic
and Angel’s voice rises finally into true song. It’s true that Angel can’t sing
and he’ll tell everyone that asks him that he’s horrible at it, the one
exception is singing in the language of the land of his birth. With that
ancient language falling from his lips it’s clear to see that he gained his
nickname for far more than just his looks. He sings like his namesake too, when
the spirit moves him.
You stay the course you hold the line you keep
it all together
You're the one true
thing I know I can believe in
Spike slowly winds the chords down and lets his
singing trail slowly to silence as the music gradually fades until at last he is speaking rather than
singing.
You're all the things that I desire, you save me, you
complete me
You're the one true thing I know I can believe
Spike
lays his palm over the strings stilling them to full silence as the crowd draws
another collective breath at what they instinctively know is a pivotal moment
in time. Spike leans over and nuzzles Angel’s chin with his cheek. “You're all
the things that I desire, you save me, you complete me. You're the one true
thing I know I can believe.”
Angel
sucks in a shaky breath and nuzzles against Spike’s caress. “I know that there
are times that it seemed like I didn’t believe that you were worth anything but
I’ve always believed in you, that
there was something special about you and you’ve just sung me how right I was.”
The
microphone picks up the softly spoken comment and a collective, “Awww,” breaks
over the room in its wake as Spike deftly begins playing again as Angel blushes
and lowers his face embarrassed at being caught in a moment of tenderness that
has unwittingly become a public declaration.
The applause is thunderous and lasting before the
crowd settles in to listen to some good music on their way home.
Chapter Thirteen
Spike
cradles his guitar and smiles at the crowd. “I’d say there’s time for one more
song in my set this evening so I’m going to end with a special song that I hope
you’ll all enjoy. This one is for Angel, it is a song called the Fields of
Athenry and a long time ago it was his favourite song to hear me sing so we’d
like to sing it for you now. Spike says gruffly as he lets his eyes drift
closed and his fingers find his chords.
Angel
looks faintly panicked but as the familiar tune pours through Spike’s guitar
his past is now his present and the tension drains away as he takes a deep
breath and leans closer to Spike and sings the words of the song in a softly
accented Gaelic harmonization. The sound of the Gaelic words form a pleasantly
haunting refrain to the words that Spike is singing in English and they all
know that for the second time tonight they’re hearing something very special.
By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young girl calling
Michael, they have taken you away,
For you stole Trevelyan's corn,
So the young might see the morn.
Now a prison ship lies waiting in the bay.
As
the chorus of the song arrives; Angel switches to English as well, singing in
countermeasure to Spike’s higher clearer tones.
Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.
As
the third stanza begins there is another abrupt change as Spike drops his voice
down to a soft husky whisper as he sings the lyrics in English and harmonizes
to Angel’s louder Gaelic in a reversal of the first stanza.
By a lonely prison wall, I heard a young man calling
Nothing matters, Mary, when you're free
Against the famine and the crown,
I rebelled, they cut me down.
Now you must raise our child with dignity.
As
the chorus rises both their voices join in harmony, in a musical communion that
is truly something magical and the confines of this comfortable ship sailing
weather-tossed winter sees gives way to a
vision of green grass and rolling hills.
Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.
In
another amazingly seamless transformation Spike drops his voice back to sing in
Gaelic, harmonizing to Angel who is singing in softly accented English.
By a lonely harbor wall, she watched the last star fall
As the prison ship sailed out against the sky
Sure she'll wait and hope and pray, for her love in
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.
Their
voices rise in unison for the last chorus in English and everyone privileged to
be witness to such a wonderful performance knows that they are hearing a
relationship of very long standing playing out for them in musical time.
Low lie the fields of Athenry
Where once we watched the small free birds fly
Our love was on the wing
We had dreams and songs to sing
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.
Spike’s
fingers lift from the strings as the vibration slowly dies away he leans closer
to Angel, only to find he’s meeting Angel halfway as they finish the last
stanza of the song only with the music of their joined voices.
It's so lonely round the fields of Athenry.
Angel
leans over the last few inches that separate him from Spike and he presses his
lips to against the softly welcoming mouth melting under his as they exchange a
sweetly poignant kiss. Angel carefully works the guitar out of Spike’s grip and
gently sets it aside as they curl together in a gentle embrace that is partly
physical but all emotional.
The
crowd explodes to its collective feet amidst thunderous applause but for one
couple the sound is drowned out by their hearts that may be stilled but never
silent. Fred smiles at Wes and moves forward slowly so as not to draw the
pair’s attention and retrieves Spike’s guitar as Maria makes her way stealthily
around the side and retrieves the case. The pair share an understanding smile
as they carefully pack Spike’s precious handmade guitar safely back into its
thickly cushioned case.
When
they look up from the now secured guitar the small stage is empty and they look
around curiously. Wes and Clem chuckle and point towards a door out to the deck
standing open and they shrug in unison and chuckle again. Maria and Fred look
at each other shrug and decide to join in the chuckling as they carry the
guitar between them and return to Clem and Wes.
“I
had no idea that Angel could sing like that! Lorne told me he reminded him of a
cat being boiled in a pot of water when he sings but that was beautiful really.”
Wes looks amazed and a little confused.
“Lorne’s
never heard him singing with Spike.” Fred says with a fond smile.
“Why
do I get the feeling that you somehow know more about the relationship between
those two than I do even though I used to study
them?” Wes asks suspiciously.
Fred
smiles enigmatically. “You’ll never sum up the lives those two have led in a
million books Wesley. Spike and I talked a lot when he was incorporeal and I’ve
learned a lot about him; none of which I’m planning to repeat.” Fred almost
laughs out loud at the disappointed pout on Wesley’s face. “Spike is actually
very well educated; he’s very smart and charming when you get past the façade
he uses to shield himself from most of the people around him. He’s the most
loyal man I’ve ever met, he’s a good person.” Fred’s fingertips trace the cameo
at her throat, startled as she feels another set of fingers gently tracing over
its contours.
“This
is beautiful.” Wes says quietly. His brow furrows as something brushes the edge
of his conscious mind with the tingle of a familiar awareness. “…And it’s
magic.” Wes lets his hand fall away. “He
gave that to you; Spike; didn’t he?” He doesn’t need to wait for Fred’s shy nod
to know that he’s right. “What does the enchantment do?”
“It
lets me know when he’s nearby and I know if he’s well or hurt and it lets me
call him when I need him, wherever I am and wherever he is, he’ll hear me if I
call for his help. And I have called him.”
A
suspicion darkens Wesley’s eyes. “What really
happened to Knox, Fred? You called Spike didn’t you and he came?”
Fred
looks away before she nods. “He came back to LA with Gabriel. I don’t know
where they took Knox or that bizarre sarcophagus that he tried to trick me into
examining; I was just glad that he was gone.” Fred says quietly.
“So
you don’t know what they did to Knox?” Wes asks, surprised that the usually
contentious Fred would neglect to find out just what happened to Knox despite
his creepy stalker tendencies.
“Spike
said that he dropped him down a well… but I think that he was joking.” Fred
admits.
A
laugh is startled out of Wesley as he can almost imagine Spike dropping Knox
down a well and wishing he could have been there to watch. He sobers as he
realises that Fred called on Spike for help rather than him and that he arrived
in answer to her summons. “You’re close aren’t you; you and Spike? You knew
where he was all along didn’t you; or at least knew how to reach him and you
didn’t say anything. And he sent you that cameo, an expensive cameo unless I
miss my guess.”
Maria
discreetly slips the guitar away from Fred and hands it to Clem and taking his
hand and leads him into the crowd towards the table of refreshments table.
Fred
steps closer to Wes and cups his cheek. “Spike is very important to me Wesley.”
Wes drops his eyes but Fred catches him and lifts his head so that he can see
her eyes. “He’s the much, much older
brother that I’ve never had but there isn’t and there has never been anything
romantic between us.”
“But,
but he flirts with you.” Wes says
blushing and looking away.
Fred
chuckles and wraps her arms around Wesley’s waist and hugs him. “Spike flirts
with almost everyone if he likes them
Wesley, it’s just his way.” Fred’s smile turns decidedly wicked. “He’s even
flirted with you but I don’t think you noticed.”
Wes
blushes furiously and looks away but he can’t ignore the faint rush of heat the
floods his belly at the thought that the beautiful younger Vampire would have
found him worthy of his flirting skills. Contrary to what anyone else knows, he
had noticed Spike’s flirtatious
manner towards him and others on several occasions.
“I’m
very fond of Spike and I love him but I’m not in love with him. I… I sort of like someone else.” Fred says shyly,
letting go of his waist and stepping back as she looks away shyly.
Wes
catches her hand and pulls her back as he holds it and leans down just brushing
his lips lightly against hers. “I kind of like someone too.”
Fred
smiles happily and steps closer and hugs Wesley again; tucking her face against
his chest shyly and sighing as he pulls her closer and wraps his arms around
her.
Chapter
Fourteen
Angel
tightens his grip on Spike’s wrist as he tows him towards Spike’s SUV. “How
long is it until we arrive, Spike?” He demands in a growl, thrusting his hand
into the pocket of Spike’s jeans and retrieving his keys and jamming his thumb
on the alarm remote to deactivate it.
“We’re
a little over halfway there so less than an hour.” Spike says breathlessly as
Angel throws open the rear door of the SUV and picks Spike up and all but
tosses him inside before climbing in after him.
Spike
is sprawled on his back and Angel climbs over him and pins him to the dark
leather. “Sing.”
“What
are you bloody going on about Angel, we just finished singing.” Spike shakes
his head and shoves at Angel’s shoulders and rocks his hips trying to lever him
off.
Angel
catches his hands and forces them against the leather of the seat and throws
his thigh over his legs and uses his leverage to hold Spike down. “You sang for
them, now sing for me.” Angel
demands.
Spike
relaxes against the seat and looks up at Angel from beneath the curtain of his
thick lashes and slowly draws his tongue across his lower lip. “And what do you
want me to sing for you Angel?” He tugs his hands free and runs them up and
down Angel’s side in a tender gliding motion. “Do you want me to sing you
something soft and romantic; do you want to be wooed Angel?” Spike slips his
hands around to the small of Angel’s back and lets them drift over his Armani
tailored slacks, cupping the curves under his palms. “Or do
you want me to sing something passionate and unapologetic?” He suddenly yanks
Angel hard into him as he drives his hips up. “Do you want to be taken Angel
and wrung until your body is drained dry?” Spike suddenly releases him and
relaxes back against the seat again, drawing one of his palms up in a slow
glide over Angel’s chest until it rests over his stilled heart. “Do you want to
hear a love song that makes you long for the days when this was beating so fast
that you could feel it pounding throughout your whole body; do you want to be
loved Angel?” He uses his free hand to prop up so that he can press his lips
against the bone behind Angel’s ear. “Ask it and so it shall be.” He whispers.
Angel moans and collapses over Spike, driving them
both down against the welcome cushioning of the seat. “You know… you know…? I
want to be wooed… taken… loved… you know I’m asking.”
“And
you know that I’ll give it to you, but not for free. You don’t walk back into
my life with a get out of jail free card and everything goes back to how it was
before. I don’t want what we had before; I want what we can have now.” Spike whispers, knowing that he
can hear him easily. “It was your right once to have me where you want me and
however you wanted me to be but now you’ll have to prove to me that you’re the
one who has the right to walk beside me. All you’ve proven til now is that
you’re good at leaving and running away.” Spike swipes his tongue over the
sensitive skin behind his ear in a slow sensual glide. “You were coward enough
to run before, are you going to be man enough to stay and fight this time? If
you’re not Angel then let me up and get back on that jet and go find Buffy
because I’m not accepting anything less than everything you have to give.”
“When
have I ever run away from a fight with you?” Angel demands with a groan.
“This
isn’t a fight Angel; this is life, not one of those stupid pissing contests
we’re constantly getting into. If that’s what amuses you then fine, if Cavemen
and Astronauts got into a fight who would win?”
“Who
in the fucking hell cares who would win that, Spike? That’s a stupid question!
Here’s a better one? Are you going to sing or am I going to have to find some
other way to amuse myself for the next hour?” Angel growls. Spike relaxes
against the seat and taps his fingertip against his bottom lip, clearing
considering his options. A growl is all the warning that Spike gets before
Angel’s face shifts to his Demon and he pounces driving his fangs deep into the
scar on his neck and sucking greedily.
Spike
chuckles through a moan as he drives his neck up hard, driving Angel’s teeth in
deeper and sighing as he feels his blood being drawn out in a slow leisurely
feeding that belies the violence of Angel’s pounce. He writhes against the
leather and the weight and strength of Angel’s body, winding his legs around
his hips and letting his head fall back limply.
Shadows
Now curtain the moon
But faith swears
It will shine again soon
Shine with love
You've been hiding from me
Your kiss
Has hindered the day
A longing
That won't go away
You just keep knocking
And waking my heart
Like daylight chasing the dark
I can exist being caught by your kiss
Willingly
Or grant you control
Of my body and soul
Ask it and so it shall be….
Angel
jerks his fangs free and he throws himself off of Spike and presses his back
tightly against the door; trails of blood leaking from the corner of his mouth
as he stares at Spike in shock.
Spike
lowers his voice to a husky purr as he crawls across the seat and into Angel’s
lap, sweeping his tongue along his throat and chin reclaiming the trailing
remains of his blood so recently taken in such a pleasurable manner. He
smoothes his palms up Angel’s heaving chest and slowly curls around his lapels
before throwing his weight backward and forcing Angel to follow and
settle back over him.
Shadows
Now curtain the moon
Still faith swears
It will shine again soon
Shine with love
You've been hiding from me
With that love
You've been hiding from me
Angel
doesn’t resist as his mouth is gently guided back to the still seeping wound as
Spike sings softly, barely audible to his keen hearing, even as close as they
are. The taste of Spike’s blood draws him back to the moment as he dives into
the feast fit for a King and feeds tenderly; drawing the precious gift with the
reverence it is due as Spike surrenders all that he is.
I can exist being caught by your kiss
Willingly
Or grant you control
Of my body and soul
Ask it and so it shall be
For
the first time Angel understands what Spike if offering and the enormity what
he is demanding in return for it and he shudders. He’s being given the chance
to prove that he can be the partner that Spike needs and if he fails to provide
this proof that he can be the man and
the Sire that his Childe needs then he will be left behind. William the Bloody
has grown up in this land of trees and water and weather as unpredictable as he
is. He has to admit that he doesn’t know what lies ahead for either of them but
he’s damned well looking forward to finding out.
Ask it and so it shall be
Spike
gently pulls Angel’s head up and guides his mouth to his and the foggy night
obligingly shields them from prying eyes.
Epilogue
The
trip to Port Townsend passed pleasantly for them all, and if anyone wondered
why Angel changed out of his Armani suit and into jeans and a thick cashmere
sweater, they were discrete enough not to ask.
Gabriel
was indeed waiting for them when they arrived and gladly lent a hand in transporting
their things to their Hotel suites and to the storage unit. Much to Spike’s
surprise Angel was actually pleasant and charming and it made him wonder about
the serious benefits of regular trips to the back of his truck for them both.
With
Wes and Fred in tow Gabriel offered a tour of the town but no one seemed
surprised when he and Angel chose to stay behind in his Suite.
“So
this is Port
“No
this is… home.” He says as he walks up to stand beside him and look out at the
town that has become his home.
He’s
startled when Angel’s hand slips into his and interlocks their fingers, pulling
their joined hands up to press a tender kiss to the back of his hand before
letting them fall back to their side.
“I think I’m going to like it here.” Angel turns to
look at Spike and then slowly back to look out the window. “Oh yes and one
other thing, Spike?”
He turns his face towards him and tilts his head
inquiringly, his eyebrow quirking up in
a silent question.
“The
Astronauts, definitely, the astronauts.”
A
slow smile curves Spike’s lips upward and he turns back to their shared
observation of what lies beyond the window. Yes things are definitely looking
interesting around here.
~Finis~
Writer’s Dedication: This story
is for my daughter Myst, Happy Birthday and Merry Christmas Lil Bear from Momma Bear JINXI.
Writer’s Special Credits:
Special Credits going out to Mandie for the invaluable help in polishing this
work and dotting the I’s and crossing the T’s that I missed along the way.
As usual most of the songs used
are available for your listening pleasure so if you’d like to hear them drop me
an email, you’ll find the address listed at the start of this story. For some of these songs, the
files are pretty large so please send your email to me from an account large
enough to accept the files or I can make them available by other means if that
won’t work for you,
just ask :o)
**** DISTRIBUTION OF THIS WORK IS LIMITED TO ARCHIVES,
WEBSITES, ECT. THAT
ALREADY ARCHIVES MY
WORK ONLY. I WON’T BE RELEASING THIS TO ANY
OTHER NEW SITES FOR DISPLAY AS IT’S A GIFT FOR MYST AND SHE GETS TO DICTATE
WHERE IT IS SHOWN, DISPLAYED, ECT. IF YOU WANT TO ARCHIVE THIS WORK THEN PLEASE
EMAIL ME THE REQUEST AND I’LL FORWARD IT TO MYST FOR
CONSIDERATION. THANK YOU FOR TAKING THE TIME TO READ MY WORK AND MERRY
CHRISTMAS! ****
~ JINX,