Work Text:
author: Lucinda
rating: pg13
main character(s): Angel, mentions of Spike
disclaimer: I hold no legal rights to any character from Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the series - both were created by Joss Whedon.
distribution: Jinni, Paula, anyone else ask.
note: Jinni's weekly poetry challenge #7.
REMEMBER me when I am gone away,
Gone far away into the silent land;
When you can no more hold me by the hand,
Nor I half turn to go, yet turning stay.
Remember me when no more day by day
You tell me of our future that you plann'd:
Only remember me; you understand
It will be late to counsel then or pray.
Yet if you should forget me for a while
And afterwards remember, do not grieve:
For if the darkness and corruption leave
A vestige of the thoughts that once I had,
Better by far you should forget and smile
Than that you should remember and be sad.
Christina Georgina Rossetti - Remember
* * * * *
He could feel it, burning pain that flowed into him from somewhere, from the faded links that had connected him... Angelus... him to his childer. The pain flowed in, white-hot and burning, building up into a tower of agony that defied words. He fell to the floor of his office, gasping for air, his whole body rigid with the effort not to scream.
Nobody could help him, no spell or chemical or words would make the agony stop. It would only stop when his child no longer suffered. But who could it be? Drusilla? Penn was dead, so were James and Elizabeth. Clarice had been cheerfully lurking in Paris. Which left... Spike. What was happening to Spike?
The pain didn't so much fade as burn out, and when the pain had gone from burning, flaming agony to dull embers, it had taken away the connection to Spike. There wasn't a low throb of agony that had been there after the being known as Glory had tortured him, or the headache-echo from the chip, just... nothing. Only a smoldering ache and ashen memories. Spike was no more than memories and ashes now.
His childe was dead.
Slowly, Angel forced his body to get up, to sit in the leather chair instead of sprawl and arc and gasp in pain on the floor. Spike was dead. He didn't know what had happened... but he would guess that it had some connection to the big battle in Sunnydale. Had Spike died fighting beside Buffy? Had he fallen to a minion of the First? Or... Had it been the amulet?
Angel hissed, feeling his fangs drop and the ridges emerge at the idea. Had the amulet that Wolfram & Hart found, the one that was supposed to 'help the final battle' caused his Childe's destruction? Had this been their idea of 'help'? Had he handed the gaudy, shiny instrument of his childe's doom over to Buffy?
From the dark corners of his mind, where Angelus had been confined, the growl rumbled, emerging into the air. Spike was dead. His childe was dead. And in the dark parts where Angelus merged with Liam and Angel, he raged, and grieved, and howled for vengeance. Spike was HIS childe, nobody else had the right to destroy him! He needed to have answers, and he needed to figure out what to do, who to kill...
No, he was Angel, not Angelus. He didn't randomly kill people. He tried to avoid specifically killing people. Information first, then a plan, and then he could figure out who he needed to maim or kill over this. Had it been a horrible accident? Had Spike fallen in battle? Or had the amulet been a trap, a shiny token of doom?
He managed to stop growling, and took a few deep breaths, hoping to rein back his temper. He'd always had too much of a temper, even back when he was alive. Growling at everyone, or even most random someones wouldn't help. He had to control himself in order to learn anything.
Feeling as if he probably wouldn't try to bite anyone, he started towards the door. Reaching for the knob, he paused, checking to see if he'd remembered to put his human mask back on. With a few moments effort, he looked human again, less threatening to the mortals. He needed to think, not to destroy things.
He could remember the shy, heartbroken mortal that he'd first spotted, the emotion that had surged around him. He could remember how William had been so eager as a new vampire, looking for trouble and fights. He remembered teaching him to hunt, to stalk and toy with his prey. Nights of fear and blood and pain, of sex and killing. He remembered that night in China, where Spike had killed his first Slayer. He remembered the arrogant, impatient vampire that had interrupted Buffy's junior year.
Spike had been his childe. A glorious killer, full of arrogance, danger, and impatient to experience everything now - pain, violence, blood, pleasure... Everything. And he always wanted it right now. He'd always been impatient; it had been one of his faults.
Part of his mind was turning over ideas, debating how to try to learn what had happened to Spike. Wesley wouldn't understand, neither would Gunn. Cordelia might have understood, or at least have been willing to help, but... Fred might have helped, but Illyria... He already knew that Illyria would see no point in the idea.
Maybe if he called Faith? Or if he asked Giles, though Giles would undoubtedly stammer and think he was worried about Buffy. In a way, he was, but not like he would have been four years ago. He cared, but it was a more distant thing, not the overwhelming obsession that had marked his time in Sunnydale. Xander... probably would delight in telling him that Spike was dead; Xander had never liked Spike, hell, Xander had never liked him. No, that wouldn't be the best way to go.
That was when he saw the news. Live coverage of panoramic views of the gaping remains of the town, victim of an 'unexplained collapse'. It looked as if the earth had just opened up and swallowed the town. And he knew that Spike had been in the middle of it.
"What happened to you?" The question slipped out, half anger, half despair.
"The reporters say that they don't know." He vaguely recognized the woman, somebody mostly human from the secretarial pool. "There was a scientist on earlier talking about seismic activity, and speculating that a large cavern may have collapsed. Nobody's had an explanation yet why it would have taken this long for such a large, unstable cavern in earthquake territory to give way."
"There was supposed to be a battle." He wasn't certain if he was speaking to her, or to himself. "I think this is the aftermath. What were they doing out there?"
"Sir, we already have people trying to gather information on what happened." Her voice was hesitant, as if she feared that she'd make him angry by speaking.
Angel glanced at her, noting all the signs of almost concealed fear. A human wouldn't have noticed, but her heartbeat was accelerated, and it had crept into her scent. "Good. There was also an amulet. I think someone dug it up out of one of the vaults, and it was sent over to help somehow." He reached over, lifting a pad of the lined paper. "I'll draw up a picture. The possibility exists that the amulet may have been a factor in what happened."
"Of course, sir." She shifted her weight, eyes glancing around the room. Was she looking for help, for someone to pass the responsibility towards, or simply trying to assess the situation. "I'll have a copy sent to the departments of artifacts and archeology, it may be something they have comprehensive records about."
He handed the pad back to her, glancing at the life-sized sketch of the gaudy thing. He'd added notes about its weight, the hue, and his guesses about the metal. "I want updated every day, even if it's only that they're still looking, and a summary of the latest explanatory bullshit on the news."
"Yes, sir." She took a step backwards. "Is that... everything?"
Angel nodded, rubbing at the back of his neck, a hopefully hidden check assuring him that he still looked human. "That's everything. It's been a very long night, I'll be going to my apartment for now. If they find out what happened, what really happened, have the news taken to me at once, no matter what time it is."
"Of course, sir." She seemed slightly less nervous, and didn't quite scurry away.
Angel sighed, and made his way to his new penthouse. It seemed almost too easy to put the resources of Wolfram & Hart to work to find out what had happened. But how much could they learn? Could he trust them? He made a mental note to try a few outside sources, hopefully someone would be able to tell him something.
Something more than Sunnydale was a crater, and Spike was dead.
end Grief and Ashes.