Fanfic: Catharsis (REM Series 9/12)

[smokingmirror]

Title: Catharsis
Series: REM 9/12
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Spoilers: general BtVS s4/A:tS s1
Summary: Spike talks and Angel listens, somewhat.
Word Count: 3205
Date First Posted: 2001
Date Revised - 15-05-2011
Beta: Kita
Awards: -
Notes: Angel is a lunkhead.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

 

4.29am.

Still no Spike.

Angel was becoming anxious and desperate; a normally bad combination in anyone, it wreaked havoc with the dark-haired vampire's emotions.

Upon leaving the office the moment the sun descended, it had been one long fruitless search. Spike wasn't to be found in any pub, gambling joint or brothel -- demon or otherwise -- in the city. Worse still, no one he'd spoken to had recognised the blond, or seen him around.

And that was what inherently worried Angel the most.

If Spike was upset, he could be expected to be found obnoxiously drunk in one of these places, maybe start a fight or ten, get beaten up and forget all about whatever bothered him a few days later.

That was normal. That was predictable. Hell, that was practically accounted for.

But when the younger vampire went to ground without a trace, it wasn't trivial. He was wounded to the very core of his being.

4.30am.

Angel sighed. It seemed he had been the instrument of pain to so many for so long. When was it going to end? A snarl built in the back of his throat, and he vented his buildup of frustration by punching a large dent in an industrial bin outside his latest dead end. He glared down at his bruising fist, goading the blossoming pain on.

At least that was something to focus on. This way, he didn't have to think about how he was failing his childe once again. Not only had he broken copious promises that he'd sworn fervently to keep time and time again, but he was about to fail in apologising once again.

How wonderfully and utterly typical.

4.31am.

The vampire closed his eyes and forcibly tried to calm himself. The only way he was going to find Spike, was to think like Spike.

If I were a vampire who'd been betrayed for the very last time by the person who was supposed to care most, where would I go? he thought caustically. Angel allowed his mind to drift back to the times his Will had run off in the past. It had something... something to do with... apples? No, but there was an apple orchard there somewhere... Orchard. Trees. Grass. Garden. Park.

Parks!

The dark-haired man cursed himself for a fool as he jumped into his convertible and revved the engine.

He needed any inner city parks or public grounds. There couldn't be that many in Los Angeles.

Could there?

He hoped not, there wasn't much time left.

4.32am.

Angel looked from the clock on the dash to a piece of notepaper hastily scrawled on by Cordelia before he left the office.

'Sunrise - 5.21am!!'

No, not much time at all.

 

+ + + + +

 

The sunrise smells of juniper and honey, Spike mused. Oh, that big blazing ball wouldn't crest the horizon for another good thirty minutes, but he could feel its approach.

Just like he could feel Angel driving down the street towards him. It wasn't something his five preternaturally heightened senses could pick up, it was definitely something internal.

Angel's blood sang to him.

Why wouldn't it? It coursed through his entire body, invaded every part of his being, hummed in his veins. A car door slammed somewhere behind him, and he quelled the automatic urge to slink into the shadows and disappear.

This wasn't a game of hunter-prey, this wasn't a battle between enemies, this was the Truth, finally coming home.

He couldn't help the small, bitter smile that graced his face with that thought. That smile was still on his face when Angel crept up, silent as death to stand behind him.

Spike felt the attempted beginnings of a dozen reprimands, queries and apologies on his sire's tongue, but not one made it past his lips. The blond vampire stretched out on the park bench, resting one ankle over the other languidly. Ashing his cigarette, he watched the particles of dust float up and away, dancing on the faint morning breeze.

The vampire sucked on the cigarette, inhaling its grey smoke as far as it would go into his body, enjoying the way it heated up cold lungs. The warmth tickled his insides pleasantly.

"Spike," Angel began tentatively, "we need to talk."

"No." the blond answered simply, taking another drag, "I'm going to talk. You're going to listen. And this time," he looked over his shoulder, eyes meeting those of his sire with cold certainty, "is the last time."

The older vampire opened his mouth to protest, but the expression on Spike's face took his voice away. Nodding mutely, Angel acquiesced with his childe's wishes, not knowing what else to do. Satisfied with Angel's response, Spike turned back to the east.

"Sit," he gestured to the space on the seat next to him in the authoritative tone of one accustomed to being obeyed. Angel sat, and looked to his childe for the next move. The blond took his time exhaling a lungful of blue smoke.

"D'you know I've been rehearsing this moment for nigh on 140 years?" The dark-haired vampire's eyebrows nearly met his hairline. Spike laughed. "S'true! The defining moment when I had your undivided attention, and I told you exactly What was What."

The younger man stared at the end of his smoldering cigarette, watching ash float away in the breeze. "S'funny... now that you are here, and I can talk... I don't much feel like it." Spike glanced across to see Angel open his mouth. "But it doesn't mean I won't," he continued, and had the satisfaction of seeing his sire's mouth snap shut.

"I know what you probably expect me to talk about," he continued in a conversational tone, "About what happened two years ago... about guilt and the soul... and I'm sure you have all of those answers prepared. Hell, you've probably been rehearsing answering those questions from me ever since we met up again, haven't you?" Angel's silence was most telling, and Spike continued.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I don't care about that." As an afterthought, he added, "at least, not any more." The dark-haired vampire didn't look entirely convinced. "There were only three things I was ever better at than you, Angelus," Spike numbered off on his fingers, "taking care of your possessions, cleaning up your messes, and getting over being crushed."

"But you were always so sensitive-" Angel blurted out without thinking.

Spike glared, his voice hard. "If I wasn't strong enough to handle the shit I've been dealt in this life, I would have snuffed it long ago." The blond studied his sire's face before relaxing slightly. "I know you're just dying to say something, so spit it out before you combust."

"It's just... uh," Angel stammered, uncharacteristically lost for words and unwilling to speak, "I thought you'd be... well... angrier. I'm not sure how to deal with this."

The small wry smile on Spike's face vanished. "You think I'm not? Pardon me for getting over my whole 'I want to smash your face in' phase. I'd love to be predictable so you can figure everything out easily, but I considered my options and decided that doing exactly what you expected me to for two hundred fucking years has started to wear a little thin."

"Listen, about the book-"

"We never really knew what happened to you, you know," Spike interrupted calmly, "Darla wasn't forthcoming, the bitch that she was. Tell you what, I was not torn up to hear she'd been dusted... " Angel looked down at his hands. Spike continued regardless. "Anyway... the book is just an object. But what it represents is far more important.

"It is the symbol of your lack of spine, Angelus. You came back, and you didn't even let us know you were alive?!"

"What difference would it have made?" Angel shot back hotly. "Can you honestly say you would have accepted me?"

"I don't know, you never gave us the chance!"

The dark-haired vampire sat back, his anger evaporating like rain on a hot pavement. "You wouldn't- you couldn't have accepted who I was, what I'd become," he answered, his tone soft and regretful.

"Maybe not," Spike answered archly, "But it would have been a damn sight better than not knowing.

"You just don't get it. Maybe we would have taken you back. Maybe we would’ve tossed your arse back out on the street. The fact remains, you never gave us -- me -- the choice. You just made the decision for me, like you had done for a hundred fucking years, and left without so much as a word."

Angel had the decency to look ashamed. He sat on the edge of the bench and fidgeted, in stark contrast to Spike's relaxed and languid pose.

"It's always been about control for you, mate. You have it; no-one else does." Spike leant sideways in a patronisingly conspiratorial fashion. "How much control d'you think you have now?" The blond's eyes slid from Angel's face to the east. The air seemed to be warming, even as the dark blue sky was being tainted with the pink glow of false dawn.

Angel looked up then, and saw how close day was. "Spike," he said in a low voice, as if soothing a wild animal, "come home with me. We can finish our conversation elsewhere." He did his best to keep his tone non-confrontational; belying the fact that he was worried Spike seemed to be blatantly ignoring the coming of the sun.

"No," Spike answered, not without irritation. "For one, this isn't a conversation, this is a lecture. And two, I'm comfortable here. If you're not," he gestured offhandedly, "you're free to leave."

"You know I won't leave without you," the dark-haired vampire said.

"You've done so before," Spike retorted, putting another Angel guilt expression on his invisible tally, "what, I'm suddenly supposed to believe you care so goddamn much now? Be realistic, Angelus."

"You're just being stubborn," the older man responded, quite petulantly.

"Maybe..." Spike nodded, mulling over the concept. "Or maybe I'm standing up to you -- for my own reasons -- for the first time in my life. I know you won't kill me. You killed Darla, and you helped kill Penn, and countless others, but," he breathed out and shut his eyes, before opening them and training his unwavering gaze on his sire, "I'm not afraid of you anymore."

He really isn't, Angel thought to himself, face to face with the cold defiance of his childe.

"I- Okay..." Running his hand through his hair, Angel attempted to approach Spike from another angle. The blond turned his face towards the rapidly lightening sky. "All I'm suggesting is that we go back to the offi-"

"I love you."

The words were so simple, so heartbreakingly bare that it was all Angel could do not to fall off the bench, paralysed. Spike looked down at his fingers, a small, bitter smile curling his lips.

"I never lay claim to anything I was proud of before being turned. Couldn't even say I loved anyone, or was loved in return," he shrugged. "Being an orphan, you don't get that many opportunities to have someone care whether you live or die.

"But you came along, and all of a sudden, someone did. I died in your arms, and was reborn there. You taught me, and looked after me. You were the first person I saw every night when I woke, and every morning when I went to sleep for the better part of one hundred years. I told you how I felt, ignorant that I was."

Spike's voice hitched once, before he was able to get his next words out. "And you never once answered me. Do you remember?"

+ + + + +

The older vampire leant down and cleaned the traces of blood away from his childe's lips. They parted instantly, and his features melted back into William's attractive human mask. Angelus stepped over the body of his offspring's first victim to claim Will in a harsh, bloody kiss.

"I... love you... Angelus..." Will gasped when their lips parted. A sardonic smile curved the dark-haired man's mouth, and he leant down to ravage his childe once again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

William's fingers began to slow the lazy patterns they'd been tracing over his sire's chest. The dark head was pillowed on the older vampire's torso. Tapered fingers slowed to a stop as drowsiness finally took over.

"Love... you..." William sighed against his cushion of alabaster skin.

"Dream with me, Will," Angelus pressed a kiss to the top of that dark head, before folding and arm behind his head and immediately falling into a deep and satisfying sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sounds of the party seemed miles away, as Will's back was pressed roughly against the hedge. Blunt teeth nipped their way up the slender column of his throat, while large hands roved over his body, taking in every angle, curve and nuance.

William's gasp was swallowed by Angelus as his mouth covered his childe's.

"Angelus, I lov-" His sire's throaty chuckle cut him off, and lips descended for another devastating kiss.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Angelus?"

The older vampire turned with more than a hint of exasperation. Dru held his hand and swung on it like a child. There were far more things he'd rather be doing to her than just hold hands, but it seemed he was always getting interrupted by something-

He gazed on Will's grief-stricken face.

Or someone.

"I- I love you," the younger man spoke, voice wet with his heart's blood.

Angelus looked a moment longer. "Goodnight, Will," he replied, before continuing up the stairs, Dru's song in his ears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night air was rich with the scent of apple blossoms. Angelus traced a finger down the seam of Will's pants, one of his childe's cigarettes dangling from his lips. Their earlier fight forgotten, William leant into his touch. He opened his eyes and stared into the dark mahogany pools that were his sire's.

"Angelus," he began, "I just want you to know that I l-"

"I know lad," the older vampire interrupted, a smile curving the corner of his mouth. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and stuck it in Will's. The younger man chuckled and blew a smoke ring in Angelus' direction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

His clothes in tatters, Angelus dropped to his knees, setting Will on the ground, but never once relinquishing his embrace. Smoke stung his eyes, and it rent his heart to hear his childe's pained sobs. The burns would heal -- in time. William's arms were locked around his neck, and his body trembled with fear.

"Ange- gelus.." he whimpered. "..lo-ove yoo-oou... love yoo-u... loo-ove yooou..." the younger man repeated like a mantra, weeping in agony and terror.

"Shhh..." Angelus attempted to soothe his childe, running his fingers through dark hair, "ye'll be fine. Ye wilna be hurt again."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"... the Spear-point that gives battle;

I am the god that creates in the head of man the fire of thought-"

Angelus stopped reading and leant back against the bed head as Will yawned. "Want to join her, do ye?" he gestured to the curled up form of Drusilla at the bottom of the bed, clutching her doll and dreaming little girl dreams.

Will stifled a second yawn and shook his head slowly, moving to nestle his smaller body comfortably next to his sire's. He rested his head against the curved muscle of a strong shoulder and shut his eyes. Angelus smiled, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before Will slept as soundly as Drusilla. He began reading again.

"Who is it that enlightens the assembly upon the mountain, if not I?

Who telleth the ages of the moon, if not I?"

"Love you... Angelussss..." The last letter of his name was lost in a world-weary sigh, and William was asleep. A soft smile curved the older vampire's lips. He closed the book and pressed a tender kiss to his eldest childe's forehead, softly reciting the last line of verse.

"Who showeth the place where the sun goes to rest, if not I?"

+ + + + +

Angel looked out to the east, unable to meet Spike's eyes. He was overcome with the vampire's emotion, as well as his own, as image upon image of the younger man laying his feelings bare crashed into him like waves.

He remembered almost every instance. He also remembered his reaction each time.

Spike was right. Not once. Not even once had he ever reciprocated. It always seemed a bit too much like a weakness to admit to. There was no question that the demon Angelus loved his first childe -- the events of two years ago notwithstanding.

Actions may speak louder than words... but no-one could ever live without ever having heard that precious sentence.

"Even now you can't say it... I know you remember," Spike said, his voice soft, "I can't help who I am. I still love you." He laughed, a bitter and painful sound with a sharp edge, and the edge was turned towards himself. "How can I not when I wouldn't even bloody well be here if it weren't for you?"

Spike stood, and lit his last cigarette, snapping the silver lighter shut succinctly. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it, or that I have to accept you. Just because we're immortal, doesn't mean this shit can go on forever.

"This is the end, Angel. I can't do this any more. I won't do this any more." He paused then, looking down at his sire's upraised face, watching those dark eyes become moist. "I tried to leave you so many times... but you probably didn't even know. You always found me, brought me home. And home was wherever you were.

"This time, home is wherever you aren't," Spike's voice was suddenly devoid of emotion, cold and calculating, "I never want to see you again, not in person, not as a pile of ashes. I may love you, but I just don't care any more.

"Don't talk to me, don't track me down, don't say you’re sorry. Because it's too little, too fucking late." He looked down at the object in his hand, and tossed it into the older vampire's lap. Angel blinked in surprise at the antique lighter and caressed its cold surface, feeling the ridges of its engraving. When he looked up, Spike was standing a little further away.

"Something to forget me by. Told you I was better at taking care of your possessions than you were."

It wasn't until Spike turned to leave that Angel finally regained his voice.

"Spike!" he cried, confused and desperate. Receiving no reaction, he shocked his legs to run after his childe. "WILL!" he called, the distress evident in his voice.

The blond turned and took one last look at his sire, disheveled, desperate and grief-stricken, a tear running down that perfect cheek.

"Goodnight, Angelus," he said quietly, before reaching his car, and driving away.

 

~finis

on to Casualties