Work Text:
SOULMATES
By Amberina
Spike stopped his motorcycle in front of Angel Investigations. For a long while, he just stared at the door, not moving, smoking a cigarette. Finally, he climbed off, and chucked the cigarette to the ground.
Don't know what the bloody hell I'm trying to get myself into, he thought as he entered the hotel.
Cordelia was sitting at a desk and smiled brightly. "We help - " then she realized who it was, and scowled. "Spike."
"Help me, do you?" he asked, letting his eyes follow her soft curves.
"Not you, but good people. Who are running from people like you."
He shook his head. "What would you know about people like me?" When she just stared at him blankly, he asked, "So where is the poof?"
Cordelia help up her index finger to silence him. "Hold on. Visioning at the moment." She quickly jotted down something on a piece of paper, and then looked back at up at him. "What?"
"Angel?"
"Oh, he's with Connor."
"Connor?" Spike felt a pang of jealously run through him.
Cordelia just looked at him like he was stupid. "His son."
"Son. Right." And then, "What son?"
Cordy rolled her eyes. "Boy, you're out-of-the-loop, huh?"
Spike sighed. "That's been happening a lot lately."
"Let's see, he got groiny with Darla, and then she was pregnant, and she was supposed to be dead, and now she is dead, because of the childbirth, and the whole vampire-to-bare-children thing? Prophecy stuff."
Spike nodded. "Where is he?"
"Depends. Still chippy?"
"Bloody hell, just take me to him."
Cordelia got up. "Still chipped, huh? Bummer for you, I feel your pain. Come on."
"You have no bloody idea."
Cordelia turns to him, her gaze sharp. "Oh, really? 'Cuz I distinctly remember blinding headaches with visions attached. At least you can control yours."
But Spike isn't in the mood to fight, or to do much anymore. He has the sudden urge to brood, but he pushes it back. He thinks that maybe he shouldn't have come. He's not in the mood to trade insults with Cordelia Chase, so he's silent as she leads him to his grand-sire. He winces slightly at the nickname and thinks about how it makes Angel seem so old, and though he is, it doesn't seem right, so he replaces it with "poof" in his head. He's silent as she leads him to his poof. *His* poof.
Cordelia leaves them, and Spike appraises Angel. He looks much like he did the last time he had seen him - Buffy's funeral. The thought sends shivers down to his spine. The last time they had seen eachother had been at the funeral of the woman they both loved.
His thoughts drift off as he watches Angel coo at his son. Angel doesn't notice he is standing there. He's in his own private world, where he is just a normal father.
Spike thinks of what had happened after that funeral, of how they had made eachother come like they both had wanted to make Buffy come.
"Angel," Spike says softly, his voice barely above a whisper, but Angel hears him.
Angel turns around, his son in his arms. He's clutching Connor protectively to his chest. "Spike. What are you doing here?"
"I - " This part is hard for Spike. He never was any good at this kind of thing. "I need your help."
Angel eyes his suspiciously. "There's - " He approaches him slowly, studying him. It suddenly dawns on him. "How?"
Spike looks down. "The Dark One. Bastard souled me."
"Wow. So you're . . . a vampire with a chip and a soul."
"One in the same now, Mate."
Angel places Connor in his crib and walks over to Spike, carefully examining him. "Are you okay?"
Spike doesn't say anything, but instead looks down and shakes his head. He wants to cry, but he's far too manly for that.
Angel watches him intently, and leads him to a place to sit. "Are you okay?" he asks again, knowing the answer will be no, but not being able to think of anything else to say.
Spike points to his head, and his voice comes out soft, reluctant to speak. "The screams . . . I hear them, I hear them all. They were innocent and I - I killed them, and . . . and when will it stop?" He looks at Angel with pleading eyes.
Angel adverts his gaze. He knows all too well what Spike is going through. "It doesn't."
Spike shakes his head. "No, no, it has to! Bloody make it stop, Angelus!"
"I'm not Angelus anymore, Spike."
"Then - then call me William. That's my real name, in't it?"
Angel looks down. "Then you might as well call me Liam." He shakes his head. "No, I'm Angel, you're Spike. We've been such for decades - centuries."
Spike looks up at Angel, incredulous. "Do I look like I give a fuck what I've been for centuries?"
"Looks to me that's all you care about."
Spike nods, silently agreeing. "I'm going back to Sunnydale tomorrow night."
"Why?" The word comes out before Angel can stop it, and he suddenly realizes that he doesn't want Spike to go.
"Because I'm a soddin' ponce, is why," Spike says, sadly, thinking of what he did to Buffy. "I've got business there."
"Do you want to stay here?"
"Bloody waitin' for you to ask."
Angel feels relieved and gets up, but waits for Spike to do so as well, before continuing to the refrigerator. "Are you hungry?"
The thought of drinking blood, even that of swine, turns Spike's stomach, but he knows he must feed or he'll die. Though the thought of dying permanently doesn't sound so bad at that moment, he accepts a mug of blood anyway.
After a few sips, just enough to stop the cruel cravings, Spike pushes the mug away. "I've had enough."
Angel sits his mug down. "It - it doesn't get better, but it - you will learn to live with it."
"We don't live, Mate."
Angel smiles slightly. "You know what I mean."
They sit in silence for a moment, and then, "Angel?"
"Yes?"
"Do you - do you remember Buffy's funeral?"
Angel recalls seeing Buffy in her casket, all blue and orange, he recalls how he comforted a sobbing Dawn in his arms, but he mostly recalls the detached, empty lovemaking that he and Spike had . . . But was it empty? he thinks to himself. He finds himself wishing that it wasn't. "Very clearly. Why?" he asks, his voice tentative.
Spike gets up. "I think I'll leave now. With any luck I won't reach Sunnydale before sunrise."
Angel rises as well, and catches Spike by the arm. "Don't."
"Why?" Spike counters.
Angel answers him with a soft kiss, letting his own tongue play across Spike's. He feels Spike's hands groping his butt, and he leans into him more.
"Ang - " Cordelia started, and then upon seeing what she was walking in on, "Oh, God! I'll be going - bye!" She quickly left, but Angel and Spike broke apart.
"Stay?" Angel asks softly.
Spike nods and follows Angel out to explain things to Cordelia. He also notices, not for the first time, what a nice ass his poof has.
THE END