Jenny
RATING: NC-17
Summary: Season 2 of Time is the Fire. Spike and Angel have now reached a new level in their relationship: sharing Spike's pain at the things he did when he lost his soul. A new start is needed for them all.
Chapter 1
On a damp, miserable day in
England, a man uncharacteristically lay late in his hotel bed. He'd done a lot
of uncharacteristic things lately: fleeing back to his home country; taking this
strange, lonely holiday; leaving his friends when they needed him. He lay in the
exact centre of the bed, his arms stretched loose at his side and his fingers
lightly curled - details were important now; they kept him sane. When he was
just as he wanted to be - when his controls were all in place - he let himself
think about the kiss. He'd been one person; now he was another, and in that
separation, there had been a kiss: violent, passionate, and utterly unexpected.
He closed his eyes for a moment to taste it again: nicotine foremost,
then the shock, then the fury and the desperate struggle. He opened his eyes,
began to breath evenly and deeply, and when he was calm enough, thought about
the arousal. Hot, urgent, exciting; his penis had risen and sought the other
out, stretched to find him, touch him. He didn't move his hand and touch himself
now - that was not allowed - but he let his mind wander over a delicious memory
of the hard body pressed to his, the feel of that slim form: the muscles, the
reciprocal arousal.
It was done now; he'd managed to think through the
whole kiss without allowing his hands to move or his body to respond to such
erotic thoughts. Now, though, there was the most difficult part to remember -
the end. He ground his teeth slightly as he remembered his own part - how he'd
taken the lead, betrayed his need, handed over his power, and lost his calm
detachment. His fingers began to rip at the sheet until he stilled them with the
force of his will. He would remember. What had he thought: that it was the start
of something? That the other had come for him? That the cold body had missed him
and wanted him?
He didn't even allow his hands to move when hot tears
tickled his face. He would remember. For, in that brief moment when he'd had the
body beneath him, he had thought all that - and more. A bright vista had
stretched in front of him. Like piercingly beautiful light, streaking from a
dark sky, the kiss had illuminated the dark, lonely land that had been his life.
Then it was over, but the sun had not just gone in. It had turned on him,
mocking him - punishing him.
So, he lay in the centre of the bed,
surrounded by the only security he could find these days - an even space of
mattress and an ocean between them - and thought about a kiss.
The other
side of that ocean, another man lay in bed, thinking about a kiss. Although he
was thinking about a kiss that he couldn't remember. He wanted to remember it.
He wanted that desperately. He wanted the memory of cool lips seeking his in
need. He wanted to be able to remember responding to that kiss. Had he been
scared, pleased, eager, nonchalant and desirable? He didn't know. He'd not been
allowed to remember. He'd done uncharacteristic things since the unremembered
kiss too, but he couldn't think about them. When he did, fingers began to tear
at cuticles, dig into his skin and rip it off, this blood and pain subduing the
memory of a pale expression of betrayal. Traitor. He was, and he knew it.
In the same city, two vampires lay on their bed, sated. They'd
made love for hours - pleasuring each other, taking turns, passing a long day,
uncaring that the night had finally arrived. Now they lay aching and tired,
surrounded by property details, studying them intently.
'This one's
okay.'
Angel took it and wrinkled his nose. 'Too modern. I want
something with character.'
Spike hid his 'old and decrepit' comment
behind an unrealistic cough and picked up another.
Smiling in fond
tolerance, Angel suddenly cleared a space and turned onto his side, propped up,
watching the other. 'We'll drive around later. See what we can find.' He
stretched a hand out and brushed his finger down Spike's cheek lovingly.
Spike tried to hide his smile of pleasure and said softly, with no
attempt to cover it, 'Poof.'
He continued to study the properties as
Angel played with him: snagging his fingers in tangled blond strands, swirling a
fingertip around soft curves of an ear, tracing a pale vein into the hollow of a
taut neck.
He pushed another brochure over. 'This one's good.'
Angel glanced down. 'Too small.'
Spike frowned. 'How much room
do we need? Couple of offices, some….'
'Eight.'
'Eight what?'
'Offices. I want at least eight offices downstairs.'
Spike
pulled the details back and appeared to be studying them. After a moment, he
said deceptively casually, 'Why?'
Angel didn't rise to the bait of an
argument. 'One each.'
'Uh huh. You, me, the bint, the hood, and the
stick insect. I was good at arithmetic at school, Angel.'
Angel sighed
and rolled onto his belly once more, pulling a different property over and
looking it through. He cast a quick glance at Spike. 'There's going to be a lot
of money left over, Spike. I need someone to manage it for me.'
Spike
tipped his head over to one side slightly and said with a pleased, puzzled
frown, 'Sam…?'
Angel smiled. 'Someone I can trust, I was thinking -
trust with my life.'
Spike grinned openly and punched him slightly. 'You
sneaky bastard. Okay, that's six.'
Angel shrugged. 'They're all humans.
We need a stronger hitter if we're going to….'
'Jordan…?'
'Someone else I can trust - someone I trusted with your life, Spike.'
Spike rolled onto his back and stretched delightedly. 'The magnificent
seven - but you said….' Suddenly, he swung his legs off the bed and sat up.
'No.'
Angel frowned. 'I was thinking of taking on a clerk or something -
for filing….'
'No you weren't.' Spike swept his jeans off the floor,
tugged them on, and stomped out of the room.
Angel sighed once more and
lay slowly back onto the paper.
It didn't get any easier.
He showered, dressed and went downstairs, dreading the moment
when he had to go into his empty office. He sat at his desk and shut his ears to
the silence: no cheery greeting, no soft chatter while they caught up on the
night's events. He heard some noise in the lobby and leant on the doorframe,
watching Spike getting weapons out. He could feel the bitter, silent
recriminations being cast in his direction.
'I thought you wanted to go
and look for property.'
Spike didn't turn. 'No, that's what you wanted
to do. Go ahead, Angel. You always end up getting what you want in the long
run.'
'So, we stay here. No move. Good. I like this old place. Lots of
fond memories, ya know?'
Spike whirled around but bit back what he'd
been going to say. He came toward Angel purposely. 'Do you want me to tell you
some more, Angel? Shall I tell you what I did to a pregnant woman I met? Want me
to remind you what a foetus tastes like?'
A tic flared in Angel's check,
but he murmured softly, 'That wasn't his fault. He never meant for….'
'NO! Stop making excuses! He let me go! He knew what I was, and he let
me go! Now it's all in here.' Spike stabbed at his head. 'You know it is…
sleeping, awake… even when we're fucking… always going around in my head, the
screams….'
Angel reared off the wall and grabbed him by the arms. 'Do
you think I don't know? You never understood, Spike - well, welcome to the world
of being me. I KNOW! But blaming….'
'Shut up. Shut up! You go fuck him
if that's what you want! I DON'T CARE!'
'I don't want to fuck him! You
bring everything back to freaking sex, and it's not….'
'Oh, Angel. Wise
up. Everything is always about sex.' He gave Angel another bitter look and then
shrugged. 'Speaking of which…. I'm going to fuck Sam. See ya.'
With a
look that he knew would drive a shard of jealously into Angel's heart, he strode
toward the door and went out in a stomp of black.
Angel went into the
kitchen and listened to the silence. It was just as loud in the lobby and seemed
almost deafening in his office. He sat at his desk and tapped a pencil in a
complex rhythm on the edge for a while. When his pout threatened to wobble
slightly, he put his head down on folded arms to keep the emotions private.
A hand rested lightly on the nape of his neck. Fingers began to run
through his hair, caressing him. He held the wrist lightly and lifted his head.
They stared at each other for a long time, and then Angel just nodded, stroking
a finger over the inside of Spike's wrist.
'I know you're hurting. I
wish I could take it away for you.'
Spike blinked slowly. 'And carry
more yourself? Nah. I'm all grown up now, Luv. I'll carry my own pain.'
Angel glanced down and wondered whether to risk speaking but took the
plunge. 'It's easier if you can forgive people, Spike. You'll carry an eternity
of bitterness along with that pain otherwise.'
Spike screwed his face up
slightly then tilted it up to the ceiling to regain control. 'He told me I was
perfect, Angel. I know it was just his way, but I kinda fell for it, yeah?
Thought he liked me - and not many people have ever done that. I piss people off
usually, but he really liked me. Why did he do it? Why didn't he help me?'
An expression of deep anguish flickered over Angel's face, and he
murmured, 'He must have been in so much pain.'
'I don't CARE about his
pain!'
Angel looked up sharply. 'No, we didn't. Either of us. We pissed
around and made him our sport. Jesus, Spike, we hunted him and fucked him
over….' Suddenly he stopped and stood up, pulling Spike into his arms. 'Whatever
you want. I don't care either. I wanted you, and now I have you back. That's all
I care about.'
Spike let himself be hugged for a moment but pulled back,
studying the dark face. He knew Angel was lying and that Angel knew he knew
this. With a soft shrug he kissed him. 'Come on. I wanna go find a new place for
us to live. I hate it here now.'
Angel nodded. 'Somewhere big enough
for… seven offices.'
Spike hesitated then pulled Angel back into a tight
hug. 'Tell me you still love me.'
Angel laughed. 'I still loved you when
you lost your soul, Childe. Being a revengeful fuck all of a sudden isn't even
going to made a dent.'
Spike held him away with a look, then had to
grace to look slightly abashed and headed for the car.
They kept
up a pointed silence in the car until Spike suddenly laughed and punched Angel,
handing him a cigarette. 'Wanker.'
Angel took the cigarette and bent to
have it lit. 'Fucker.'
They gave each other a wry look. Enjoying the
freedom of being able to argue without once threatening what they had together,
Spike repeated, 'Wanker,' and Angel caught at a lock of blond hair, tugging it
painfully.
Feeling much happier, they drove to an area of town they'd
not explored before and went slowly around the streets, assessing possibilities.
It was an older section of town, imposing, but now mostly run down, with
crumbling villas on large, overgrown lots. There were small, private parks,
hidden behind fences, and everywhere had the air of seedy respectability. Spike
chuckled. 'Your kinda place.'
Angel chose not to hear the irony and
replied softly, 'Yeah. Let's get out and walk.'
They wandered around for
a while until Spike got bored and suggested stopping for coffee. The café was
small and surprisingly attractive inside, and they slid into a booth and waited,
smoking quietly.
After a moment, a man came over. 'What can I get you?'
Spike cast a glance at Angel and replied evenly, 'Coffee. Two.'
The man looked at Angel, and as he tore off the order, said, 'The
Crypt's closed down.'
Angel frowned and was about to comment on the odd
remark, when the man added, 'I hear the club across town is good though -
Babel.'
Spike bit his lip to suppress a grin. 'So… the Crypt was a….' He
glanced significantly at Angel. 'Gay dance club?'
The man followed his
look. 'Well, yeah, I assumed.' He paused and appeared to taking in the hair and
leather. 'That's what you were looking for. Sorry.'
Angel gritted his
teeth. 'How about you just bring the coffee?'
Spike waited until the
waiter left then stroked his boot up Angel's leg softly. 'Don't take it to
heart, Luv. It's a compliment really.'
'Fuck off.'
Angel rose
and went back out into the night. Spike watched him go, amused and stretched out
to wait for his coffee.
When he got out into the soft night air, there
was no sign of Angel, but he followed his trail around a small park and found
him standing in the middle of a quiet road, staring at a building.
Spike
went up and stood next to him, and they stared together. After a moment, Angel
put his arm lightly around Spike's shoulders. 'This is it.'
Spike looked
at the old, gothic façade: the fake gargoyles on the corners and the high,
arched windows.
'You've gotta be fucking kidding.'
'This is the
one I want.'
'You want us to live in… a crypt?'
'The Crypt. It's
perfect. It's a sign.'
'You've had too much nicotine.'
'Come
on.'
Angel broke in and stood, staring in increasing wonder at the space
in front of him. The lower floor was mostly the remains of a dance floor; there
was a bar on one side and some closed rooms around the other three. It was
totally dilapidated and smelt as if there had been a fire at some time. Angel
headed toward the central stairs and jogged up.
Spike watched him go
uneasily as large parts of the stairs crumbled beneath him but, with a curse,
followed him up. The upper floor was a warren of small rooms. They'd been
vandalised, and syringes and other detritus of the streets littered the floor.
Relieved that it was so hideous, Spike went up to Angel and put a hand
on his back. 'Sorry, Luv, I know you liked….'
'It's perfect.'
'What?'
'Let's go.'
'Angel! You can't buy this place!
I'd rather live in the Hyperion! Hell, I'd rather live in my own crypt!'
'It's perfect.'
Angel kept repeating this quietly to himself all
the way back to the hotel. He had a rare animation about him, and Spike twisted
around in his seat and watched him closely. It was good to see him happy. It was
good to see him excited about something.
Spike shook his head. 'Bags I
get the drug-ridden hellhole room on the left then.'
Angel tipped his
head back and laughed. 'It'll be perfect; just you wait and see.'
Everyday from that night, Angel went to progress his obsession with The
Crypt.
Spike waited until he was sure Angel wouldn't be there one night,
rounded up his small gang, and marched them over.
Sam stood in the
middle of the wrecked dance floor and tried a few moves. 'I can still smell cum.
That's nice.'
Spike narrowed his eyes. 'You could have their backroom as
your office.'
Sam suddenly grinned. 'Ah, the evil dead's told you….'
'Thought you were gonna retire.'
'I am. From tax. I'm going to
be a super hero now.'
Spike only smiled and turned to Jordan. 'What do
you think?'
Jordan shivered. 'It's probably haunted by dead sodomites.'
Sam murmured, 'Seems appropriate then.'
Spike shouted in outrage
and chased him up the stairs, and laughing, they inspected the equally dismal
top floor.
In the last, tiny room, Spike flung himself down on an old
bed and then jumped up, wrinkling his nose. 'Bloody hell!' He inspected
something on his jeans and tipped his head back. 'I don't want to live here.'
'Tell him.'
Spike glanced at Jordan. 'I can't. He needs
something. He's missing….'
He frowned and didn't continue.
Sam
gave him a look, as if there was something on his mind that he'd wanted to say
for a while. 'I understand why he did it, Spike.'
Spike stomped over,
but Sam stood his ground and said calmly, 'You do too. You understand the power
of obsession more than anyone I've ever met. We'd all have done exactly the same
thing, given the same circumstances.'
Floored by Sam's calm manner,
Spike backed off a little and looked helplessly at Jordan. The demon shrugged
his shoulders. 'I don't know, Spike. We have you; so, it's hard for us to say.
Wesley didn't….'
'Don't say his name!'
'Stop being a
melodramatic prick, Spike.' Sam turned, put an arm around Jordan's shoulders,
and led him downstairs.
Outraged, Spike followed them and shouted, 'You
don't know what it was like to….'
Sam spun around and came back to him.
'No. I don't. I can't imagine, and I don't want to. But I know we have you back
now. I know we've all got a new start. I know I love you. But he has nothing,
and I feel sorry for him, and I don't give a shit what you think about that!
Now, get over yourself; let's go to my place, and I'll fuck you both 'til you
beg me to stop.'
He watched expressions flit over Spike's face, sighed
and cupped him around the back of the neck, pulling him in for a kiss. 'Love is
all we have in the end, Babe. I've got you back, and that's all that matters.'
Spike relaxed and let the human embrace him. 'Jesus, I'm spending my
life saying sorry to everyone.'
Sam bit back the obvious response to
this and, catching Jordan with his other arm, led both smaller men back through
the gloomy, ruined building.