Summary: Spike and Angelus have a confrontation.
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Joss, the WB and Fox own the characters.
Dusk...
All around him, Spike could hear the others stir. They were waking hungry-
craving the blood. Once he'd have been as eager as any...
He wheeled himself out to the garden, deliberately waiting until everyone had gone for the night. He hated for the other vampires- the drones, as he thought of them- to see him like this.
But he wasn't the only one who was late.
Watching from the shadows, he saw Angel- emerging from Drusilla's bedroom.
Black jealousy, as corrosive as acid, burned across his brain.
Angel...with Dru.
He'd known it was coming, of course; known from the beginning, when he'd
discovered Angel was here, on the hellmouth. Here- where Angel had become
the Slayer's pet vampire.
Then...Angel had come back. And Drusilla was healthy again. Dru and Angel, both strong and whole while Spike was not.
Spike was this maimed, useless thing- thanks to that little bitch of a
Slayer.
Funny...he'd been so certain she was finished....he should have known
better! He'd never even seen what hit him.
She was...resilient, that girl.
But so was he.
Angel walked out into the garden; and saw him.
"Spike," he greeted, "I'm just on my way out. Any little thing you'd like me to bring you?" Angel's smirk was pure malice. " I usually have some...leftovers."
No matter how much he'd trained himself to show no reaction, Spike felt his hands clench. But he kept his voice light.
"What I'd really fancy, Angel, is a bit of the Slayer," he said amiably. "Not a large bit- perhaps her heart, or her liver?"
Any mention of the Slayer usually wiped the smile from Angel's face; and tonight was no exception.
"Buffy," he purred. His eyes held a sudden avid gleam. "I really must think of a suitable...gift...for Buffy."
Spike wasn't impressed; Angel talked a good game, and in the past he'd...but something had changed. Angel was curiously reluctant to move against the Slayer...and Spike could only wonder why. If he had Dru, what could he want with any other woman?
Not that the Slayer wasn't appealing, in her way. Spike considered Buffy dispassionately. Pretty, yes; but also lithe, quick, amusing. Effervescent- that was the word, like those sparkling wines he'd learned to love back when he was human.
"She's like champagne to me."
For one horrified moment Spike feared he'd spoken aloud; but then Angel
continued, "I don' t think I was ever so...obsessed in the past. I should
kill her, but...I hate to think of a world without Buffy in it."
"Sounds like you still have feelings for her," Spike goaded.
Angel scowled. "Feelings...of hatred! I'm NOT killing my Buffy- until she'd paid for what she's done to me."
He stared into space. "I know...I'll bring her here. We'll have fun with her...." Suddenly his eyes focused on the blond vampire. "What do you think, Spike? If I brought Buffy here...and let you watch? Would you like that? " Angel chuckled. "Of course you would."
Spike gritted his teeth. "I think I'd prefer a quick kill."
Angel shook his head reproachfully. "You always go for the quick kill, Spike- but it's really because you don't enjoy the prelims. You'd enjoy this, though. She still loves me, you know; although she thinks she doesn't want me anymore. I'm going to prove to her that she does- and you get a front row seat!"
Spike said icily, "More talk, Angel. But you're forgetting something- her."
"I told you," Angel said impatiently, "she CAN'T kill me!"
"Maybe not," Spike conceded, "but you can't kill her, either."
He wheeled around to stare straight at his sire. "I've suspected it for some time. You can talk about killing her...you can torment her...but when it comes to it...." he shrugged dismissively.
Angel's smile widened; almost, Spike thought, it took on the same edge of insanity that always colored Dru's.
"If we start discussing our suspicions, pal," Angel said silkily, "I have one of my own."
Spike eyed him coldly. "And what's that, Angel?"
Angel laughed aloud. "We've always had the same taste in women, haven't we?"
The shock hit Spike like a bludgeon. "What is that sick brain of yours imagining?" His voice was barely a whisper.
"You're the one doing the imagining, Spike, " Angel insinuated. "Don't pretend you've never thought about her- I know better! Quite a favorite fantasy of yours...now, isn't she?"
Still grinning, he strolled out into the darkness- leaving Spike stunned and appalled. In despair, he dropped his head into his hands.
"God," he muttered hoarsely, " how in bloody HELL did he ever guess?"