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2020-11-04
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Intimacies

Summary:

Joss owns all
Distro- Writings of the Femail, my LJ, WWOMB, Poetry in Motion, Mystifying Dreams
S/A – Over 15
Spoilers: Season 4 Btvs, Season 1 Ats
Warnings: violence maybe
Summary – They were closer than they cared to admit.
Thanks to Kat and Jennillu for the beta!
This is for the spring_spangel

Work Text:

Intimacies
by FemailoftheSpecies

 

He never understood his own father, what it was that he had been thinking during his constant berating and beatings. Some fathers loved their sons. He knew that; saw it tonight on this latest case and wondered what had been fundamentally wrong with him that his did not.

Frowning, he unlocked the outer office and tossed his coat onto Cordelia's chair.

The phone rang as Angel walked into his office, the ridges on his forehead melting as he switched on the artificial lighting of his lamp. The glow from the small bulb was dim and lacking, but he failed to notice. It was for show and unneeded in the scheme of things. That scheme now had Officer Lockley eyeing him warily, judgmentally, and he predicted an end to their tentative friendship. Casting aside notions of how Kate reminded him of other blondes that he wanted to throttle or kiss in equal measure, he snatched the phone up quickly, eager for the distraction from his demon's thoughts.

"Angel Investigations." He did not use the corny slogan and rarely did when Cordelia was not around to hear it.

"Angel...It's Colin."

"Oh, just a sec." If he was secretly thrumming with unease, he did not show it as he slipped over to the other side of his desk and sat gracefully, speaking again. "What's up?"

"He got jumped about an hour ago."

The vampire sighed, a sound like a human would make when frustrated.

"And?"

"He's not too beat up, but they tossed him out of Willy's. I, ah, thought that would be it, you know...rough him up a bit and leave him be." His tone dropped to a whisper, yet Angel had no problem making out every word, every breath taken, every swallow. "But now, the demons are still talking about it, gathering courage, I think, to go to his lair at sunrise and drag him out."

Angel was rewarded with a sickening visual of the intended act, an abomination to his demon, and was quieted for a moment. Spike was a skilled fighter, better than most Angel had come across, and what he lacked in physical strength he made up for with spontaneous intelligence. Yet a mob of demons determined to drag his little ass out into the sunlight was not something the blonde could necessarily defend himself against.

This demon, one that owed Angel his life and was oddly loyal, waited patiently on the line.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked after an awkward period of silence from the vampire.

"If the plan is to attack him at sunrise, then make sure they don't go any sooner."

***

The ride was boring and uneventful, a blessing to the cursed vampire since it allowed for some quality brooding time. He had no idea why he was doing this. Everything he had done since Spike and Drusilla showed up in Sunnydale indicated that he should be killing the creature or at least standing by while others did the job. Perhaps he could not stand to have another member of his clan fall to dust. Perhaps it was something else. Not willing to examine anything concerning Spike further, he pulled up to the curb, next to the cemetery entrance, and stepped out of his vehicle. Sunrise was about an hour away and he still had not decided what exactly he wanted to do about these demons plotting against the younger vampire.

Silent and stealthy, he made his way to the crypt, enjoying the chance to use his skills. In Los Angeles, he was particularly noisy because Cordelia got cranky when startled. Spike's scent, his very essence, was overwhelming in this place, and Angel was surprised that other demons would dare to challenge the vampire. It was a testament to how the chip in that blonde head had screwed up his childe's unlife beyond demonic fathoming. As he drew near the door, he realized his sneaky approach was all for nothing; there was no way to open the thick steel door without creating a boatload of noise. Refusing to knock like some guest calling on an acquaintance, he turned the lever and pushed inward into darkness.

The fist hit him in the eye before he saw it coming and he reeled backward from the force of the blow, all the while thinking so much for stealth.

"Peaches! My mistake. Nice of you stop by. Sorry that you have to be going so soon," Spike said standing by the opened door, clearly inviting his sire to take a hike.

Angel pushed past his childe and stepped inside. "Close the door, Spike." He kept his voice even and calm, not wanting to dish out a beating to his childe on top of the one he had already received earlier. The visual inventory of Spike's injuries confirmed that he had indeed not suffered much harm. The younger vampire's pride was on the line, more than anything else.

Having had enough stress for one night, Spike's curiosity took over. "What brings you to my kingdom, Angelus? Forgot to take something last time you were here?" He glanced around at his meager belongings, making a grand sweep of the area with an outstretched arm. "Oh, would you look at this? Nothing left, mate. Sorry, seems you wasted a trip. Maybe you can get a pedophilic peek up the slayer's whorish skirts." When Angel flinched, Spike walked closer, pressing forward. "Oh that's right...soldier boy's playing between her knees now."

Angel hit him, surprising himself, but not Spike. These outbursts of violence were never shocking to the blonde, only to Angel's soul, which still could not fathom the things he had done to this vampire. His errant childe just gazed at him with satisfied blue eyes, wiping blood from his lips and swallowing what remained in his mouth. The blow did nothing to diminish the venom that he spewed either.

"No room up her tight little snatch for your great, huge, lumbering hands anymore?"

"Spike..."

"What, Peaches?" he chuckled, having a better night than he anticipated. "I skewered you, you git. Are we supposed to have meaningful conversation now?"

"They're coming to kill you," he blurted, ignoring the jibe.

"They? You beat them to it, Sire. In that barn, wasn't it?"

"I remember," the brunette said softly, full of sorrow or longing, he was unsure which and nowadays they were so close as to be the same.

Spike only raised an eyebrow and wished for a cigarette to get him through this new form of torture.

"So why the bloody warning? Thought you wanted me dust and have just been too weak to do it yourself."

Gazing into his childe's eyes, Angel ignored the question and made a decision. "They'll be here at dawn. Get whatever you wanna take now."

"Excuse me," Spike walked a semi-circle around the older vampire, careful to keep out of reach. "I'm not going anywhere with you. Got me a nice little life here. Let the wankers come."

Angel glanced at his watch. He already knew the time, but it was for Spike's benefit. "Knocking you out is an option."

"I'm sure it is, Pouf. That how you get your dates now?"

"No...and this isn't a date. Pack your stuff or I'll drag you out of here by your feet."

"You and what army?"

He declined to answer verbally, letting his fist do his talking. The first punch landed with exquisite agony and Spike's head snapped back viciously as he staggered backward, but kept his footing. Angel moved in for the kill, only to be kicked in the gut by a steel-toed Doc. Bending reflexively, Angel was open to a flurry of blows, taking them all until the blonde swept his legs out from under him and straddled the older vampire, game face apparent, a stake resting perilously over Angel's heart.

"What army?" Spike growled, pressing the stake until it tore through the silk of the brunette's shirt.

Not willing to rely on Spike's sense of family, Angel knocked the stake away and reared up, flipping them until his childe was firmly immobilized beneath him.

"You'll pay for that, boy."

Remaining still, they glared at each other for minutes, each painfully aware of the closeness of the other, but it was Spike who looked away first. It was always Spike who looked away first. Angel had a patent on the blank stare and William the Bloody had always been inclined to fidget.

With a sigh he relented somewhat. "You expect me to allow these blighters to run me out of my own lair?"

"I expect you to have enough sense to survive today, take them down tomorrow."

Jaw clenched, he nodded. Angel relaxed a bit, slightly assured that Spike would come with him without violent persuasion, and freed his arms, rolling away warily.

He watched as the blonde grabbed his things and shoved them haphazardly into a small duffle. When he was finished, he donned his coat and squared his shoulders.

"I still hate you, you know," he announced.

Angel nodded, certain that this creature of his making had he never hated him.

"What's the plan?" Spike asked, apparently ready. Angel stared blankly. "You do have a plan?"

"I just came when I got the call." He shrugged.

The blonde's eyes narrowed and his voice became low, menacing. "What call?"

Thinking quickly, Angel shifted gears. He hadn't told Spike who was coming to kill him yet. "Willow. She called and was going on about how the Initiative knew about you."

Spike grinned. "Yeah, Red's a treat. Gotta remember to turn her when I get this chip out."

Angel slapped him on the back of his head. "You do not touch her, Spike."

Hands, facing out in false acquiescence, did not hide dancing blue eyes. "All right, then. No need for violence," he placated, laughing at the ridiculousness of his statement.

Angel worked to bury his own grin. "Geez, Spikey, this is disappointing. I was kinda looking forward to the violence."

Spike only leered at him. "Don't be, mate. This is just a time out. I'm sure we'll tear into each other soon enough."

 

end