Fanfic: Always Means Forever (REM Series 12/12)

[smokingmirror]

Title: Always Means Forever
Series: REM 12/12
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Spoilers: general BtVS s4/A:tS s1
Summary: Spike and Angel decide on a future.
Word Count: 2402
Date First Posted: 2001
Date Revised - 15-05-2011
Beta: Kita
Awards: -
Notes: The poem used is from one of iconic Melbourne artist Michael Leunig's books, and some of Spike and Angel's dialogue is paraphrased from my favourite song by the band *LYLAH*, called 'However Far Away'. We come to the end, finally! If I were writing this again now, I would've really toned down the sap. But I can't hate the series for it. Thank you to the people over the years who enjoyed this and sent me feedback, and massive thanks to Kita for betaing it.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

Low tide, and the waves lapped at the shore. The noise they made was comforting and soothing. That was what Angel thought, anyway. It just so happened he also thought the same of the weight of the slim, long-fingered hand placed on his chest.

Angel was too thoughtful to sleep. It seemed as though a lifetime had taken place in between the moment when he had shown up at Spike's Sunnydale crypt and now. The dark-haired vampire was hyper-aware of every second that ticked by. He had never been more aware of the passage of time until this moment.

It seemed that talk just confused a lot of the issues between them. Still, he really wished Spike would stop feigning sleep and-

"The beach and brooding just aren't mutually exclusive events for you, are they?" Spike's voice broke the stillness, slightly roughened from slumber.

"'Mutually exclusive'?" Angel queried, a rare smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

"I just woke. No time to dumb up my speech for you."

"Well Professor," Angel answered indignantly, "the beach and brooding aren't events. One is a place and the other is a-"

"Lifestyle choice?" Spike raised his head and looked at his sire. Azure eyes were bright and clear, but their heavy lids gave his exhaustion away.

"Are you done?" the older vampire asked, his face dismally attempting to stay serious.

Spike stretched with a feline grace. "Never," he replied before settling himself back down into Angel's loose embrace, "besides, brooding's always been an event for you."

Angel squeezed Spike briefly in reprimand and went back to looking out at the waves in the distance. Moonlight shone off the sparkly white foam of the breakers, making them glitter with a phosphorous glow.

"This is your cue to say something sodding well poetic and meaningful, and have a good old brood."

Angel wondered when he'd become so transparent. "It is?" he asked.

"If you want to get technical."

The dark-haired vampire chuckled softly. He missed the banter and camaraderie. Cordelia and Wesley -- and before him, Doyle -- were friends he could count on, but Spike was blood of his blood.

Wanting to complete Spike's prediction, Angel dropped his voice softer than usual -- to the tone he had always adopted in the past when reciting verse.

"When the heart

Is cut or cracked or broken

Do not clutch it

Let the wound lie open

Let the wind

From the good old sea blow in

To bathe the wound in salt

And let it sting

Let a stray dog lick it

Let a bird lean in the hole and sing

A simple song like a tiny bell

And let it ring."

A long moment of silence passed, filled only by the crashing of waves, before Spike dared break the spell.

"See? The two-thirty five Angel train passed into Brood Station right on time," Spike mocked his sire with his words, but Angel did not miss the meaning of his childe tightening his grip around his chest, resting the bleached blond head under Angel's chin. The entire length of Spike's body was pressed intimately against the dark-haired vampire's -- every available square inch of his flesh touching the other.

Security, friendship, family.

The blond's head moved slightly, indicating he was speaking.

"You know I can't stay."

It was a statement, not a question.

"I know," the older man answered.

And they watched the waves together.

+ + + + +

A few hours before daybreak, Spike and Angel dressed silently -- apart from a few snide remarks from the blond about the brunet getting sand in interesting and varied places.

The car trip back to LA was just as uneventful. Cordelia had driven Angel, seeing as it was painful for the vampire to drive with his slowly healing hand. It took around two and a half hours of driving before they hit the outskirts of LA. During that time, no words were spoken, yet all the important things seemed to pass between them anyway. Angel rested his left hand lightly on his childe's thigh, and it was alright.

The two vampires arrived at the offices of Angel Investigations a little after five a.m. Spike got out of the car and watched as Angel did the same, absently shifting from foot to foot.

The older man stepped onto the sidewalk and spent a long moment taking in the blond's appearance. He walked to stand a foot away from his childe.

"Where will you go?" he asked softly.

Spike shrugged. "Dunno. Anywhere."

Angel studied him carefully. "You could go back to Sunnydale," he ventured.

Spike snorted contemptuously. "Why the bleeding hell would I willingly go back to that little black hole of despair?"

"You'd be safer there than anywhere else, with that chip," he replied matter-of-factly. Spike cringed at the mention of the behaviour modification device stuck in his head, but after considering the idea, grudgingly accepted the validity of the argument. He certainly wasn't in the mood to become a big pile of dust anytime soon. "Perhaps you could help Giles and Buffy out, for money, or blood."

The blond's face displayed his obvious distaste for the concept. "Any other stellar reasons?"

"I'd know where you were," Angel muttered softly, his face etched in concern.

Spike expelled air harshly though his lips, attempting not to be swayed by the pleading in his sire's mahogany eyes.

Yeah. Right.

"They didn't pay for my help before," he responded, staring at Angel squarely in the chest, "what makes you think they'll start now?"

Angel inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that Spike was even considering Sunnydale an option. "Why don't you let me handle that part?"

Spike nodded briefly, knowing what a tough negotiator his sire was.

His. Sire.

The blond's insides did the strangest little flip-flop at the thought. He was the kid who had been reunited with an estranged parent after years of abandonment.

But ‘parent’ just didn't cover all that Angel was.

Teacher, friend, competitor, partner, lover, beloved, sire, demon, angel and a hundred other things rolled into one.

And he would be all of those things again, and more.

Soon.

It just wasn't as easy as one night of shagging making all the problems disappear. Although, Spike thought as a faint smile curled his lips, it sure as hell was a fun way to start them moving.

Regardless, they both needed some time to process their new positions in each other's lives -- even going so far as to find out exactly what they were -- before anything could happen.

So many things had changed, and yet, so many had stayed the same. When Spike looked up at Angel now, he saw his sire, and that was worth enough to him to wait for.

Angel wrapped his arms around Spike's smaller form, hugging him tightly to his body. The blond melted into his arms, drawing from and infusing strength into the embrace in equal measures. Angel drew back to look at the younger vampire in the eyes, not relinquishing his hold.

"When do you think we'll be ready?" Spike asked, voice low.

"I don't know, childe," the dark-haired man sighed softly. "Who knows how long it could be until we're both less screwed up than we are now? Besides, you still have things you need to deal with on your own," Angel inclined his head towards Angel Investigations, "as have I."

"The superhero thing, gotcha," Spike laughed weakly. "It's not just a job, it's an adventure, right?"

Angel's face was sombre. "It's something I have to do."

"I know, "Spike whispered, laying his head against the larger man's chest. Angel's hand came up to run his finger's over the blond locks.

"No matter the distance, you'll always stay in my heart."

"Forever?" Spike asked, voice wavering.

Angel drew back once again and looked into stormy cerulean orbs. "However far away." he replied, voice firm with promise. He pressed his lips to his boy's forehead.

Spike angled his head up, and they shared a brief, tender kiss. Once over, the younger vampire stepped back, looking sad, but strong.

"Goodbye W- Spike," Angel said, correcting himself clumsily.

Spike looked across to his sire through sooty lashes. A charming, boyish smile curved pale pink lips.

"It's okay, Angelus," he said, voice barely above a whisper, "you can call me Will."

The blond looked at Angel one more time before getting back into his car. He didn't look into the rearview mirror, knowing he would see nothing but an empty street.

But he knew Angel was there, behind him.

He would be for a very long time.

+ + + + +

Four days after his return to Sunnydale, the bleached blond vampire was curtly summoned to the ex-Watcher's house, whereby he was given a list of conditions he would submit to if he wanted to be paid for services rendered. Spike immediately found leverage and before Buffy could blink, he had wrangled a cash advance, bagged human blood and a 'no staking' policy.

"Is that it? Will you help?" Giles asked stiffly.

"Will I help please? Honestly, Rupert, a little politeness goes a long way. Being English, you should know better."

Ignoring the blond's reprimand, Giles spoke again. "The recommendation for your services came directly from Angel. Do you have any idea why he might suggest this to me?"

"I'd like to know, too," Buffy stood, arms crossed, scowl in place, "he hates you. I hate you. Everybody hates you Spike. The Angel I know would never recommend you for anything other than a holy water bath followed by a thorough staking."

The Angel I know.

Spike smiled mysteriously and opened the door. "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio."

"Horati-who?"

Spike glanced at Giles. "You've got yourself some Fangs for Hire. You know where to find me." With a condescending look at the Slayer. he shut the door behind him and left.

The blond found himself whistling as he walked back to the crypt.

Things seemed to be pulling out of the nosedive they had previously been in. Okay, so he was still chipped, and helping the people he rather well despised in an official 'Rent-A-Vamp' capacity now.

But there was a bright side. Well, a less darker side, at least. He wouldn't go quite so hungry any more (scoring human blood, to boot), and would be able to afford the human creature-of-the-night comforts he had become accustomed to, like smokes and cereal.

Bashing demons not only helped with the craving for violence and the hunt, but also the entertainment factor.

The best aspect of his situation by far, though, was the fact that it would eat Buffy up that Angel had spoken to Giles. That could be milked indefinitely.

Angel...

Spike's thoughts drifted to his sire. For once they weren't accompanied by the taste of bile in his mouth and a violent outburst.

A very large part of him would have loved nothing more than to tuck his Docs under one side of Angel's bed and never leave the dark-haired man's side again. But he knew that just wasn't possible right now. He was still too angry over some things, hurt by others. The fact that he'd readily admitted he still wanted Angel in his life did not make such issues vanish. Many memories of their time together were still tainted with jealousy and resentment. Angel was by no means ready to just let his childe back into his life, either.

Things to do, Powers to Be...

Spike didn't understand the need for redemption -- having always been proud of his actions -- but he accepted it as something his sire had to obtain.

And maybe, just maybe, he would learn to forgive himself in the way Spike would one day forgive him.

The blond quirked his lips as he opened the door to his home.

Angel may still be the faggy, anal retentive pillock he'd always been...

"But he's my faggy, anal retentive pillock."

Spike's smirk stretched into a smile that felt good on his face.

"And I wouldn't ever have it any other way."

~finis

Epilogue

The package arrived at Giles' home by a bored looking courier boy.

As soon as the sun set Spike turned up, having been sent a missive earlier. He stared impassively at the small, nondescript brown parcel. It was addressed simply to 'Spike, c/o Rupert Giles' and postmarked L.A.

Even without the Angel Investigations card taped to the back as return address info there was no mystery as to who the sender might be.

"Aren't you going to open it here?" Willow asked, curiosity finally getting the best of her tongue. Buffy scowled, an expression she was growing accustomed to wearing around Spike, especially in relation to anything to do with her ex.

The blond's answer was to pick up the small parcel and exit without so much as a word.

Giles raised his eyebrow. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed."

Spike walked quickly through the streets, resisting the urge to bolt. Once back home, he locked the door. The vampire placed the box on his stone sarcophagus and stared at it for a long while.

Trembling fingers opened the box and gingerly sifted through the little styrofoam pellets inside. Presently, his hand wrapped around something smooth and cold, quite possibly metallic...

Spike was struck well and truly speechless as he retrieved a heavy silver lighter from the parcel.

The ridges of the engraved griffin pressed into his palm as he traced a finger over the design of two initials on the upturned side. A beautiful 'W' gracefully curved and entwined with an 'A', tangled and woven together so closely it was impossible to tell where one letter ended and the other began.

If that wasn't enough to close Spike's throat with emotion, underneath the mythical animal on the other side were etched three words;

'However far away'.

Spike caressed the object lovingly as if it were his most precious possession in the world. Which, of course, it was. The vampire slipped the lighter into a top pocket of his duster and patted it down, feeling its outline resting comfortingly close to his dead heart.

Some of their old memories may not have been golden, but he and Angel could make new and better ones some day.

Together.

~finis