PAIRING: Angel/Spike-William
RATING: Series eventually NC-17
SUMMARY: AU.
An answer to the FGF Challenge #36
"Spike looses all memory of being a Vampire, his personality reverting
to that of William's... scared and confused, and although Angel has no
sympathy for Spike, realizes that this is not the cocky Vampire that annoys
him so, but the innocent young man Drusilla turned over a hundred years
ago... He needs someone, and Angel steps forward..."
FEEDBACK: Better than chocolate... almost as good as sherbet dips
SPOILERS: Set some time after AtS season 5
DEDICATION + THANKS: To Kris my fellow ficbitca
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"I'm not sure that I want it to happen," I said, "See, I think I love him."
Did
I just admit that, in the open, to them? Did I admit it to myself?
~Part: 1~
*A week earlier*.
I knew it was wicked of me, but he just gets on my nerves so much. Spike is infuriating, especially when he is right. I'll never admit that to him, though. Just the thought of that insufferable smirk under those beautiful blue eyes makes me want to hit him hard.
It's not worth the effort. I could, and admittedly have, beat him bloody seven ways from Sunday. It doesn't work, he won't give up. He burnt to dust in Sunnydale and he's still here now. Forget Angelus, Spike is my own personal hell.
Perhaps that's why he survived with along with me. I really thought that we would all die when we took on the Senior Partners. I should have known they were playing me. Just another damn prophecy to fulfill and they made sure that just about everyone that I cared about here died.
The Senior Partners were happy that we'd gotten rid of the Circle. The Circle had been acting on their own for too long, bringing about their own apocalypses. Believing they were too powerful to be controlled. The Senior Partners were so pleased with me that they offered to bring them all back.
I couldn't do that to them, no matter how much I wanted it. They had all died as heroes and they deserve to be where they are. I know that it's going to be somewhere good. But it still hurts like hell inside when I think about them.
In time, I was able to move on, made new friends, trusted new people. Spike refuses to believe that I can do that. Also, he's insufferable now that he knows I signed away the chance to Shanshu.
He thinks that it makes him a cert.
I think that it makes him an annoying wanker.
That's why I duped him into going after the demon on his own. I'm proud that I managed that.
Four hours later, and he's not back yet.
Where is Spike? He shouldn't have any problems with it - a routine search, locate and beheading. He should have been back annoying me by now.
I try the scrying spell that Willow taught me. I can't make out where he is; just that he's somewhere dark. He's not awake and he doesn't look badly hurt. Damn.
No, I don't really mean that. It`s a strange feeling, and one I should be used to by now. His Blood is still my Blood. Whilst I'm often tempted to stop that annoying mouth permanently with a stake to the heart I *am* relieved that he's not gone.
The pre-dawn light is starting to brighten the sky. I can't do much right now, so I go to bed.
In my dream, I'm back in England in 1880. I've seen this day before when Drusilla dragged him into our lives. I wonder sometimes whether if I'd acted differently he would have been different. Drusilla sired him, but I made him into the monster he was.
He hates me for that.
At times, I hate me for that.
As Angelus I was just as clever, but inclined to grand speeches and gestures. I'd strutted, and made clear that I was in charge - well Darla *was* away at the time. I'd said something about roosters and henhouses, and sharing the death of innocents with a man, rather than women.
"Don't think that makes me some kind of deviant?" I'd said, holding my hand in the sunlight, watching it smoke, relishing the pain. "Do you?" I continued, pulling my hand back towards my face.
The little bastard had just stared at me and thrust his own hand into the sunlight. We'd laughed, and ever since then he's tried his best to out-fight, out-think and generally out-do me.
Yeah, and that'll happen when the Devil puts on his skates.
I can't believe I'm back down in the sewers. The guys made me feel so bad about not going with him that I came looking down here for him just to escape them.
Please, don't they think I'm dealing with enough guilt already? It's not like they'd do anything to help Spike normally. They just about tolerate him at the moment.
These places stink anyway, but the smell is really bad now. Suddenly, I see the cause. The demon is definitely dead, and rapidly decomposing. I hold back on the urge to vomit and carry on down the sewer. Then I see him, curled up like a baby. I run towards him, inexplicably glad that he isn't dust.
He looks unhurt, apart from a cut on his cheek. I pick him up as I have to get away from here before I lose today's meal. Otter blood doesn't taste so great going down that I want it to come back up.
After a mile or so, I realize that I'm underneath the Hyperion. I didn't think about where I was heading, but I am happy that I can have a bath and get this stink off me.
I put him gently on my bed and head to the bathroom. I haven't been back in here since I made the best and worst decision of all my lives. Luckily most of my old clothes and supplies are still here. The water is cold, but I don't care as I wash the smell away. I pull on some sweatpants, and head back out to the bedroom.
Sitting on the edge of the bed, I look down on him. It's so easy when he's asleep to forget what Hurricane Spike is like when awake. As an artist I can appreciate that he is beautiful, even more so because of the scar on his eyebrow marring the perfection of his face.
I feel that it's somehow appropriate this mass of contradictions, so tightly controlled now when awake, seems totally at peace when asleep. If only he was actually like this, he would be so much easier to understand.
The cut is worrying me. It doesn't look too deep and should have almost healed by now. The dried blood looks a little strange, possibly a yellow tinge to it.
Has he been contaminated by the demon's blood? If so, what will it do to him? There's only one way to find out, I think to myself, as I reach over to wake him.
"Spike," I whisper.
"Spike." I say a little louder, shaking his shoulder gently.
His eyes flicker open, and I gasp, pulling my hand back. I haven't seen that look since we first met.
"What spike?" he asks, sounding confused.
This could possibly be amnesia. More likely, it's a really bad attempt at playing for sympathy.
Call it a rush of sentimentality, but I decide to play along. If it is all a big joke, then I'll show him `what spike' indeed.
"Who are you?" He asks, looking uncomfortable.
"I'm Angel."
"Rather a strange name for a fellow, isn't that?"
"It's a long story, my name was Liam, but I prefer Angel now."
"What a coincidence. I'm William - did you know that both our names mean protector?"
"Yes, and I'm yours."
What on earth made me say that? Well, it's true; I've been saving his ass since he was turned, even when he didn't know it.
He looks shocked and draws further away from me. His eyes widen as takes me in for the first time. I can smell the fear and confusion on him. There's something else there, baser and more potent; his arousal.
This is definitely not Spike.
Okay, so my bare chest is giving him problems. I can fix that, getting a t-shirt out of the closet and pulling it on. I drag a chair next to the bed, prepared to give him room if he needs it. Good, he seems calmer.
"You've had an accident," I begin. "What do you remember?"
"Not much, I'm afraid. I remember leaving the party, and that's about all."
What party?
It couldn't have been that party, could it?
"William, what year is it?"
He laughs at my foolishness and answers.
"1880."
*God, it's William the Bloody Innocent.*
"What's that smell? Oh no, it's me. I'm so sorry."
I tell him that he can use the bathroom, and give him fresh towels and clothes. It is clear that he can't remember anything after his turning, possibly not even the turning. This could be a big problem if he thinks he is still human.
By the time he comes out of the bathroom, I've decided what I'm going to do. I've locked the door as I'm not sure how he'll react. I don't need to be chasing a freaked out vampire through LA.
"What's happened to my hair - it seems much shorter"
"You've changed your hairstyle."
"I'm sure that I'd remember that."
"Actually, you've lost some of your memory. It's not 1880 any longer. And there's something else." I trail off, unsure of how to let him know what he now was.
"Not 1880? What year is it then?"
I move closer to him, and say softly, "2006."
A look of disbelief crosses his face. "That can't be. Surely I would be dead by now."
"We are."
"So why am I here, standing in front of you, breathing. Oh." Realization hits him. "I'm not breathing, am I? Then what am I?"
"*We* are Vampires." Could I have sounded any more dramatic - or less convincing?
"Vampires? That's a literary conceit from awful penny-dreadfuls."
Sometimes, actions speak louder than words. I turn away from him, just knowing that showing my demon's face at this moment will only make the situation worse. I raise my wrist to my mouth, and pierce the skin.
I hold my wrist up to his face. He looks scared, but also fascinated.
"Drink from me." I command.
I can see the blood working its magic on him. A few seconds hesitation, and then he grabs the proffered limb and sucks greedily on it, not realizing that he has morphed into game face. Too late I remember the problem with Sire's Blood, even if it's actually Grand-Sire's Blood.
It's a powerful aphrodisiac.
I would be lying if I said that I wasn't tempted. I move closer to him, feeling him hard against my thigh. My other arm snakes around him, pulling him closer. How I want him. I couldn't believe how much I wanted Spike. I hate Spike, and he hates me.
But this wasn't Spike. This wasn't even the William that Drusilla brought into our lives. This was a completely new, yet completely familiar person. Through the haze I see flashes of my dream from the night before.
Is this my chance to start over with him? Is this a chance to build a new friendship?
I pull away from him. He hisses his frustration. Then he raises his fingers to his mouth, as if to wipe the blood away. He looks shocked as he feels his teeth change back.
"Well, I think that you may be right about me."
As his head clears, he blushes as he takes in what had almost happened between us.
"I'm sorry about everything." I say, realizing that I actually think I am. "Should have warned you about that. It's the Blood. Actually, I've got a sort-of girlfriend."
"Is she a vampire?"
"No, she's a werewolf."
I can see that he can't help the grin spreading across his face. It's infectious and we both collapse in gales of laughter.
I think I like him.
~~~*~~~
It's taken her a while to get used to the situation, but Buffy finally seems to have come to terms with it. As the oldest Slayer, she's sort of the de facto leader. That's why the other Slayers and the Watcher's Council agreed when she decided to base a Slayer and Watcher with us.
She said it was to help us. I know that it's so she can keep an eye on us. I think that she still doesn't trust us, no, me.
"So what do we think happened to him?" I ask.
Gregory pushed his hair back from his face. He's surprisingly normal for a Watcher. Intelligent, of course, that's a prerequisite, and devoted to Cole, our resident Slayer. There is no question as to where his loyalties lie, despite our tentative friendship. I wouldn't have it any other way.
"My research indicates that the demon's blood causes total memory loss. It's a rather useful defense mechanism, allowing the injured demon to flee without fear of pursuit."
"Can we do anything about it? Is it permanent?"
"I'm not sure; I'll have to look into it."
"Thanks, Greg."
I'm letting them in closer, but as usual, there is a terrible price to pay.
A horribly terrible price - we have evenings out. It still makes me feel uncomfortable.
I push open the door as Greg walks off. William is sitting quietly there on the couch, reading.
*Reading Sartre.*
Hearing me enter, he looks up and my world spins. He is devastating. I may have the face of an angel, but at the moment, he is simply luminous.
We had talked long into the night, and I came to realize how much I envied his memory loss. To wake up and be able to forget the terrible things I've done, to be forgiven.
I wasn't lying when I said that I had a sort of girlfriend. Nina and I have an `on again - off again' relationship. Currently it's `off again'. It has been for months really. I had just thought it would be easier for him if I'd said that I had someone.
A line of poetry I once read flashes into my head.
*'I'm in no hurry; with lightning telegrams I have no cause to wake or trouble you.'*
I realize that this is true; I have no cause, no desire, to wake Spike. I've decided that this is my second chance to know William.
How the hell can I just ignore all our history, though? Is it fair on him? He is happier like this, isn't he? Surely it's fairer for him to stay like this. I'm sure that if I tell myself that, I'll believe it eventually.
He puts the book down beside him on the couch.
"I hope you don't mind me reading this. It's very good, an interesting idea."
"I'm glad you're enjoying it. Now, let's go have fun!" I say with mock sincerity.
If I've got to socialize, so has he. Plus, I don't really want to think about that whole responsibility and freedom thing right now. I've got enough on my mind, just thinking about him. Then I realize, all I've been doing is thinking about him.
As we walk in through the doors I sense his unease immediately. This William is not a social creature. I feel his hand in mine, and squeeze it gently, hoping that this small gesture comforts him. I look at him, and see a hesitant smile appear.
If my heart could beat, I think it would explode. He's just so irresistible at the moment. I'm suddenly thankful for having to be around so many people; otherwise I think I might just kiss William right here.
Okay, I would do more than kiss him. He won't remember our past together right now, but I do. I know what that body can do to me. I know that I have to take this slowly, though. What if he doesn't feel the same as I do? Then I remember how he reacted back at the Hyperion, and I know it will be all right in the end.
*Today*
I had deliberately forgotten about trying to cure William's amnesia, but the others hadn't. Now they are trying to persuade me that we need to do this.
"Do you really want Spike back?" I ask them, "He's just so annoying and irritating. William is so much easier to get along with."
"It's not fair on Spike," says Cole. "And he doesn't have that edge anymore. Admit it, for all his strength; he'll be a liability in a fight."
"We need him, in case Angelus returns. William couldn't deal with him." Greg interrupts.
"But Spike wouldn't hesitate to stake me. Nice point. Thanks guys. What about our friendly neighborhood Slayer?"
I know I'm losing this argument.
"I'm not sure that I want it to happen," I said, "See, I think I love him."
Did I just admit that, in the open, to them? Did I admit it to myself? Where did that come from?
"What?" Cole splutters. "Hey man, I didn't know you were..."
"No, no. It's a vampire thing, you know. Family, Blood bonds, that sort of thing." I pause, hoping that I've gotten away with it.
"I understand," Greg says. "You dislike Spike intensely, whereas William fascinates you. Although you separate them in your mind, they are the same person. However, I really think that you ought to talk to him about this. It should be his decision in the end, not yours."
How come everyone else gets to be right?
"We're doing it tomorrow while he's sleeping unless he tells us otherwise." Greg tells me.
So now I'm in William's room. He kept away from other people this week, preferring to stay here and read.
I never realized how shy he was. Spike is exactly the opposite of William. When William died, he saw it as an opportunity to reinvent himself. In a way, I think that I can understand better why he became Spike. If he'd been this William back then, Angelus would have staked the weakling without a second thought.
I'm glad that I've got to know this side of him. He's smart, he's considerate, and he's funny. I can see, however, that there is something else in him. William may not be Spike, but I feel that there is a quiet strength there. Possibly it's the demon. Maybe it's the soul. Whatever it is, he's perfect.
He is wearing a black silk shirt and jeans. God, but he's beautiful. I can't believe how nervous I feel. I want to turn around and run. Run away from these feelings. I feel sick.
I've got to go through with this, though.
"William, we need to talk."
"About what?"
"We've found a spell that may restore your memories - but I'm not sure you'll want them back."
He looks silently at me. Okay, so I've got to do all the work.
"You are a different person without those memories. And, um, I'm very fond of the person you now are," I rush.
"Do you dislike this other me?"
"We don't always agree. Actually we fight. A lot."
"Do you..." he hesitates, "Do you hate the other me?"
"It's sort of mutual. It's a dance we've been doing for years, and I'm not sure that our history will let us stop that."
"Did you ever consider that hate and love are just different faces of the same coin? I can't remember how I felt about you before, but I know how I feel about you now."
What do you feel for me? I ask myself silently. As if he heard my thoughts he steps closer and pulls my head down into the sweetest kiss I've ever had.
"The question is how do you feel about me?" He asks.
I answer by kissing him back. His arms wrap around me, and my hands are in his hair. God, I could stay like this forever. I don't need to breathe and it feels so right.
Eventually, he breaks away from me.
"That's not answering the question."
I've got to tell him.
"I think I love you."
"Well, then, that's alright. `Cause I think I love you too."
Shit. He loves me back. This is so perfect.
"But I want to remember."
Yeah, there it is. I never get a break.
"Look, Angel, we are responsible for our own actions. I don't know what I used to think about you, but I'm not going to forget this week. I've done a lot of thinking. Remember, but don't live in the past. Move forward. Take chances. Live."
"But..."
"Angel, I want this. And I won't be forgetting, I'll be remembering, that's what. I'm not going to say it will be easy, but I'll work at it. Will you?"
Like I've said, how come everyone else gets to be right?
"Yes. I will."
"Good, now I want something to make sure that I'll work at it."
An evil grin spreads across that innocent face. Did they do the spell already? He grinds against me, and I realize I don't care.
In fact, rational thought flies away. I want him so much.
"I haven't just been reading philosophy, you know. You've got some very interesting things - they've given me all sorts of ideas."
"Thought I'd hidden them away safely," I murmur, glad that I didn't.
"Bed! Now!" he orders.
When the fuck did William grow a pair? I'm usually the one issuing commands, but I could go for this. So many things have already changed between us.
He drags me towards the bed, ripping my shirt open. He nuzzles into my neck. Small bites along the vein. Oh, so good. I stop him.
"What?"
"Get undressed and into bed. Please." I plead.
"Okay, but only cause you said please." He's already out of his clothes, and I quickly get rid of mine.
What a beautiful body. I want to make love to him. Not just a quick fuck, thanks for everything, see you later. I want to hold him in my arms all night, to make sure that he still wants *us* later on as much as I do right now.
He moves in closer, as though he's trying to get into my skin.
"I love the way you smell now. All male and sex. Really good." As I say this, he looks up at me, and I know what he wants. It's fine, it's what I want as well.
Tomorrow I'll wake up with Spike, and that's okay. I'm willing to try it for him, for us. But for now all I want to do is love him.
next | back