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A/N: I was having a chat with my great friend Steph/Athenewolfe last week about the show and the different flaws of the characters when this idea assaulted me and wouldn’t let go. Thanks Steph for the spark. Also huge thanks for the beta work and suggestions go to Megan and Tam! I love my betas.
Guilty Soul
Prologue
Findings
He walked through the halls of Wolfram and Hart, running his hand along the wall as he went. It had only been a day since his miraculous transformation into a real boy and he was still in awe of once again being corporeal. Being able to touch anything - even a wall - felt amazing. He refused to give voice to the fear that at any moment it could all be ripped away and he could be thrust into hell. Instead of letting it eat at him, he decided to go annoy his grandsire. Maybe he’d be lucky enough to goad him into throwing a punch. A malicious smile spread across his face at the thought.
Reaching Angel’s inner sanctum, Spike snickered and shoved the double doors open with enough force to bang the walls on either side. That would have the broody poof immediately seething with anger.
“’Lo, Peaches. How’s it hangin’?” He sauntered in grinning like the devil himself. “Oh, sorry mate. Are your dangly bits still attached or did they shrivel up and fall off from lack of use?”
“Spike,” snarled Angel, forcefully shoving his chair back and standing. He knew Spike was baiting him and was trying to keep his anger in check before they both wound up bruised and bloody. “Why is it whenever my day starts out perfect, you have to show up in my office? Is being a pain in my ass your only pastime?”
“Well yeah.” Spike shrugged, rolling his eyes in a way that reminded Angel of Buffy. “It’s about the only mischief a bloke can get into ‘round here. What could be more fun than watching that huge vein in your Cro-Magnon forehead bulge out? Can’t wait ‘til the day the bloody thing bursts,” Spike taunted, hoping he would say just the right thing to set Angel off and get in his daily dose of violence.
Said vein began to throb as Angel clenched his fists tightly at his sides, refusing to give his irritating grand-childe the satisfaction of the brawl he was aiming for. He’d always harbored intense feelings of dislike for Spike, but looking back on the bad old days with his soul in place he realized most of it sprung from the fact that Spike had taken everything Angelus dished out and asked for more with a smile. Angelus was a sadistic bastard that reveled in the pain of others, but he’d never had to prove himself to Darla the way Spike had to him and his demon resented Spike for making him feel inferior.
“Could you for once do what I ask and leave? There are lots of other things you could be doing now that you’re corporeal again.” Angel’s voice took on a faint whine, desperate for the peace and quiet Spike had shattered with his presence.
It was always fun to make Mr. Broody Pants cry, but that wasn’t what Spike was in the mood for. He was finally in the flesh and his hyper body screamed for a few good rounds with fists and fangs. Well, that or a game of naked Twister with a certain slayer who still held his heart.
The smile that had graced his face slipped away. He had to stop doing this to himself. He couldn’t show up on her door step after such a glorious death and say it didn’t take. No, he needed to let her go; leave her to that all important normal life she’d dreamed of. He tried everything to distract himself from thoughts of Buffy and he hoped that someday it might actually work. Maybe one day it wouldn’t ache in every molecule of his being.
‘Stop wallowing in self-pity, you poof! If gel boy isn’t up to a good fight, just find somethin’ else to take your mind off her,’ Spike told himself.
While Spike was lost in his thoughts, Wesley burst in, red faced and staring down at something in his hands. Not noticing the bleached vampire in his path, Wes slammed into him, knocking them both to the floor and launching what appeared to be a tattered brown leather journal across the room.
“Dear Lord!” Wes exclaimed scrambling to his feet in an attempt to catch the book that landed with a thump just out of reach. He knew if there was any damage to this particular object that Angel would never forgive him.
“Watch it, Oxford,” Spike grumbled, standing back up and brushing himself off. “What’s got your knickers so knotted?”
Picking up the journal with care, Wesley began to stutter, “Umm…Well yes…you see, this is…I found this while going through a box of books that was found in the excavation of Sunnydale. It appears…I think it may be a journal written by Buffy.” Wes stared at Angel sympathetically. He knew his boss still felt strongly for the small blonde slayer, even if he rarely spoke of her. Then he realized with a jolt that the other vampire who’d loved her was also in the room and turned to give Spike a small, tense smile.
“I only read the first few pages before it became clear that nothing she wrote in this particular diary had anything to do with the supernatural. Discovering it to be of a personal nature instead, I immediately stopped and brought it to you,” Wesley said quietly while handing the worn leather book to Angel.
Spike felt his heart soar before his own insecurities got the better of him. Any hope of reading her words crashed against the metaphorical rocks. He fought the urge to snatch the little book and make a run for it, knowing his grandsire would do everything in his power to keep it from him. Quickly forming a plan to return when Angel was sleeping and steal the book, Spike decided his best course of action was to fake indifference and leave.
“Since you prats are gonna natter on about stuff I’ve got no interest in, I’ll go find something more lively to do,” Spike snorted, rolling his eyes in disgust before spinning quickly and stalking out the door. Tears pooled in his eyes and his un-beating heart cracked a little more with the pretense of denying his golden goddess, even if she wasn’t there to see it.
Angel smiled down at the journal he was lovingly caressing. Buffy’s own words, right here in his hands just waiting for him to open it up and see what she had to say to him.
It didn’t bother Angel that this was supposed to be something private and only for the eyes of a woman who was still very much alive. It was written by his Buffy, after all. He was sure to find beautifully detailed descriptions of the tender feelings she held for him inside.
“A-Angel, perhaps it would be p-prudent to contact Buffy on our find? I’m certain she would love t-to know it still exists,” Wesley stuttered, not believing his eyes as his boss flung himself down in his chair and opened to the first page.
Angel couldn’t wait to find out the wonderful things she had to say about him, so he dismissed Wes with a wave of his hand and began to read.
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