Crash and Burn
Aug. 28th, 2007 02:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Angel, Spike
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written forselene2's banner at indigo_crypt, Set just after the end of AtS S5 episode "You're Welcome"...
“You never showed.” Spike’s voice wafted over him, mingling with the darkness. The voice hit him in the gut, evoking flashes of memory. Angel could almost see past the bleached blonde hair and smoky scent to another, more recognizable man with tangled curls, who smelled faintly of peppermint and geraniums. Which was more real? The man he remembered or the demon Spike had become?
“I know,” Angel answered in a whisper.
Spike was moving now, the susurrus of old leather the only sound in the room. A thin hand brushed across Angel’s cheek, coming to rest on a slumped shoulder. For a brief moment, Angel felt an absurd impulse to take that hand and the comfort it offered.
The time when he could have received comfort, from this hand or another, was long gone. Comfort existed in a nebulous past, along with a mother’s kisses and a sister’s laugh. It belonged in the back of his mind, next to Darla and Buffy and all the others he’d loved and lost. With Cordelia, his demon supplied venomously.
“Sorry about your girl,” Spike said gently.
Angel shifted slightly, looking up at Spike. The expression was genuine and the faint light that crept in from lobby illuminated blue eyes gone soft and forgiving. Angel closed his eyes, struggling to accept what he saw.
“How did you know,” he asked Spike quietly.
“Tasted her blood,” Spike replied. “Blood never lies, Angelus. First lesson you taught me and ‘ve never forgotten it.”
Angel nodded in acceptance. He remembered teaching that lesson, the exchange of blood between them. There had been many lessons learned, but that first one had been unique.
“She came back to save me,” Angel told him. “She said…she said I was worth saving.”
“I’d never call a lady a liar,” Spike responded lightly. “And that one was a lady to her fingertips.”
She really was, Angel reflected. Cordelia had the soul of a great lady, proud and strong. She had used her last breath to give him that strength, to show him that he could still win this fight.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” Angel said, the words not really a question.
“Why would I,” Spike returned. “Princess had her plans. No need for the bit player to ponce around, mucking’em up.”
Angel curled in slightly, the ripping sensation of fresh grief hollowing him out again. She’d known, Spike had known, and he had just played his part. The Powers pretty plaything mouthing his lines and hitting his cues, unable to stop the story or change it.
“Stop,” Spike said suddenly, a snarl is his voice. “Sitting in the dark and playing your sad tunes won’t change it. She deserves better than that, Angel. She did this for you. Give her back her bloody champion, Peaches.”
The harsh tone set Angel bristling and he tried to jump up. The slender hand on his shoulder held him in place, softening the edges of his anger. He bowed his head, uncertain.
“Crash and burn,” Spike murmured, his other hand nestling in the strands of Angel’s hair. “Damned Irish matyrs, you never learn. This ain’t about you, Angel. Redemption don’t mean shit compared to their sacrifices. We have eternity, don’t we, to learn and grow? They get a few short years and nasty ones they are too. Give your girl something to be proud of. A tall knight on a white horse, carrying her favor in to battle.”
Spike’s hands fell away, coming to rest just under Angel’s chin. Angel knew he should jerk away. This wasn’t how it went, not in their pattern. He stayed still, allowing Spike to position him.
“They’re watching you,” Spike said clearly, eyes boring holes into him. “Give them something worth watching.”
A brief nod, and Spike smiled. An old familiar smile that Angel hadn’t seen in over a hundred years. Drusilla had always said William’s smile was rainbows and lollipops covered with ice.
“William,” Angel breathed.
“Always have been,” Spike answered shortly. “And nevermore shall be.”
Spike bounded up, face and eyes inscrutable. As he strode away, Angel thanked an empty room for the second time in one night.
Rating: PG-13
A/N: Written for
selene2's banner at indigo_crypt, Set just after the end of AtS S5 episode "You're Welcome"...“You never showed.” Spike’s voice wafted over him, mingling with the darkness. The voice hit him in the gut, evoking flashes of memory. Angel could almost see past the bleached blonde hair and smoky scent to another, more recognizable man with tangled curls, who smelled faintly of peppermint and geraniums. Which was more real? The man he remembered or the demon Spike had become?
“I know,” Angel answered in a whisper.
Spike was moving now, the susurrus of old leather the only sound in the room. A thin hand brushed across Angel’s cheek, coming to rest on a slumped shoulder. For a brief moment, Angel felt an absurd impulse to take that hand and the comfort it offered.
The time when he could have received comfort, from this hand or another, was long gone. Comfort existed in a nebulous past, along with a mother’s kisses and a sister’s laugh. It belonged in the back of his mind, next to Darla and Buffy and all the others he’d loved and lost. With Cordelia, his demon supplied venomously.
“Sorry about your girl,” Spike said gently.
Angel shifted slightly, looking up at Spike. The expression was genuine and the faint light that crept in from lobby illuminated blue eyes gone soft and forgiving. Angel closed his eyes, struggling to accept what he saw.
“How did you know,” he asked Spike quietly.
“Tasted her blood,” Spike replied. “Blood never lies, Angelus. First lesson you taught me and ‘ve never forgotten it.”
Angel nodded in acceptance. He remembered teaching that lesson, the exchange of blood between them. There had been many lessons learned, but that first one had been unique.
“She came back to save me,” Angel told him. “She said…she said I was worth saving.”
“I’d never call a lady a liar,” Spike responded lightly. “And that one was a lady to her fingertips.”
She really was, Angel reflected. Cordelia had the soul of a great lady, proud and strong. She had used her last breath to give him that strength, to show him that he could still win this fight.
“Why didn’t you tell me,” Angel said, the words not really a question.
“Why would I,” Spike returned. “Princess had her plans. No need for the bit player to ponce around, mucking’em up.”
Angel curled in slightly, the ripping sensation of fresh grief hollowing him out again. She’d known, Spike had known, and he had just played his part. The Powers pretty plaything mouthing his lines and hitting his cues, unable to stop the story or change it.
“Stop,” Spike said suddenly, a snarl is his voice. “Sitting in the dark and playing your sad tunes won’t change it. She deserves better than that, Angel. She did this for you. Give her back her bloody champion, Peaches.”
The harsh tone set Angel bristling and he tried to jump up. The slender hand on his shoulder held him in place, softening the edges of his anger. He bowed his head, uncertain.
“Crash and burn,” Spike murmured, his other hand nestling in the strands of Angel’s hair. “Damned Irish matyrs, you never learn. This ain’t about you, Angel. Redemption don’t mean shit compared to their sacrifices. We have eternity, don’t we, to learn and grow? They get a few short years and nasty ones they are too. Give your girl something to be proud of. A tall knight on a white horse, carrying her favor in to battle.”
Spike’s hands fell away, coming to rest just under Angel’s chin. Angel knew he should jerk away. This wasn’t how it went, not in their pattern. He stayed still, allowing Spike to position him.
“They’re watching you,” Spike said clearly, eyes boring holes into him. “Give them something worth watching.”
A brief nod, and Spike smiled. An old familiar smile that Angel hadn’t seen in over a hundred years. Drusilla had always said William’s smile was rainbows and lollipops covered with ice.
“William,” Angel breathed.
“Always have been,” Spike answered shortly. “And nevermore shall be.”
Spike bounded up, face and eyes inscrutable. As he strode away, Angel thanked an empty room for the second time in one night.