by
Alane S. Megna
Genre: Drama
Rating: G
Disclaimer:Usual disclaimers.
Summary: A Spike/Angel fic on how they make peace with one another.
Notes: Takes place over the Thanksgiving holiday in 2003.
Angel's GTX pulled up to the curb of a Sunnydale home that was once so familiar to him. The vampire turned to his companion in the passenger's seat and asked, "Cordelia, are you sure we're doing the right thing?"
Cordelia looked at him and said with a note of exasperation in her voice. "Of course, it's the right thing. We were invited for Thanksgiving." With that, she unhooked her safety belt, unlocked the door and got out.
Angel did likewise. "Yeah, Buffy and Dawn invited us. But not Spike."
Cordelia rolled her eyes as she reached into the back and unlatched a 2-year-old boy from his child safety seat. "C'mon now, it's time to go eat turkey," she said with a smile.
The boy, with soft brown hair and equally soft eyes, smiled back at her and took her hand as they all headed toward the front door.
"Look," Cordelia said to Angel. "It's time you two end the feud. You need each other."
Angel laughed. "Me need Spike? I'll never need Spike."
At that, the woman stopped and gave him a serious stare. "Angel, someday all of us -- that is, those of us who aren't vampires -- are not going to be here."
The vampire's laugh drained away into a frown. "Don't say that."
Cordelia looked at him and shook her head. "Look, Mr. 'I'm Immortal.' You've got to face the truth. Someday, all you and Spike will have is one another." As she rang the doorbell, she raised an eyebrow at him to put a finish to the conversation. "Besides, you're family."
**********
Buffy, Cordelia and Dawn all greeted one another with cheek kisses and compliments over wardrobe choices. Dawn took the little boy to the living room and showed him all the goodies she had bought for him.
Meanwhile, Spike and Angel stood stiffly and stared at one another.
Buffy finally broke the tension. "Cordelia, why don't you help me get everything on the table? And you two, make like men. Go out on the back porch for a couple of minutes, and get out of our hair."
Spike puckered his lips but didn't say anything. He found long ago that it was useless to argue with Buffy, once she had made up her mind. Angel had reached a similar conclusion concerning Cordelia.
Thus, the blond vampire headed toward the back door with Angel following closely behind him.
Cordelia looked at Buffy, and the two women shrugged in unison as they walked into the kitchen.
Once out on the back porch, Spike gravitated to one end of the railing and Angel to the other. They both leaned on their respective rail and stared straight ahead. Spike lighted a cigarette and blew out a ring of smoke. Finally, he said, "So, mate, you still in the thankless business of helping the helpless? Can't be much profit in that."
A smile crossed Angel's lips. I've heard you're in that business yourself these days."
"What?" Spike asked indignantly, as he turned his head to look at Angel. Help out ONLY because of Buffy and Dawn. Watch their backs. That's it. I'm no poncey-do-gooder."
Angel continued to look ahead and said, "Um-hmm, Spike. Whatever you say." Then, he turned to the other vampire. "But see, Los Angeles isn't that far away. I hear things. And I heard the story last summer of the burning bus with all those kids on it, and how you nearly got yourself incinerated to bring them out."
Caught red-handed -- or would that be white-hatted? -- Spike said nothing. Instead, he turned his gaze to the back yard and his attention back to the cigarette.
After a few moments of silence, Angel spoke again. "Dawn sure has grown into a beautiful young woman."
Spike smiled and then looked back at Angel. "You ought to see some of those whelps that come sniffing around the house. Not a one of them good enough for her. I'll tell you that!" Then he sighed. "Their lives are so short, Angel. Got to get so much living into such a small space of time.
The other vampire looked back over at him and shook his head. He understood.
Spike brightened a bit. "Your son. He's a fine-looking boy." He hesitated and then added, "I envy you."
Angel thought for a moment. Then he took a deep breath and said, "You know, he has a couple of honorary uncles in L.A. But, he could use one in Sunnydale. You know, a blood relative to show him the ropes."
A cocky grin spread across Spike's face. "Guess I could show him a few moves." He danced on his toes and did a little shadow boxing. "Never hurts to know how to use your fists."
You were the best street fighter I ever knew," Angel recalled with sincerity.
Just then, Buffy's voice called from inside. "It's ready. Come and gobble the gobbler."
Spike looked at Angel. "Eat food now, huh?"
"Yeah," Angel replied. "It still doesn't have much taste to me. But Cordy. It makes her happy to see me eat." He shrugged.
At that, Spike tossed his cigarette butt and ground it into the porch. "Buffy doesn't like me to smoke in the house. So, I do it out here."
They shared a laugh at their domestication. Angel clapped Spike on the shoulder and effected a bit of his old Irish brogue: "We've come a long way from London, aye William?"
***********
Gathered around the dining room table, the group was about to dig into the turkey when Buffy said, "Oh! Wait. We need a toast." She looked to Spike, who was seated at the head spot.
He lifted his goblet, thought for a second and then quietly said, "To family."
Everyone repeated "To family," as
they clicked their glasses together -- two of which were filled with blood.
--The End--