Rating: PG
Summary: Not all vampires crave warmth.
Note: Set during Destiny -- spoiler alert!
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"Well, screw this town, then. Screw this devil's funhouse, Angel. And screw you for good measure. I think I'll take the new flesh and bones across the pond back to Europe."
As soon as the words leave my mouth, I regret them. I don’t want to go back to Europe, there’s nothing left for me there.
Sure, Buffy’s in Europe, but I’ve realized a few things about our relationship -- using the term loosely -- when I felt my skin singed and my flesh charred. While she might be the sunshine I’ve been longing for centuries, we weren’t meant to be. I’m the type of guy who wants forever -- in the figurative and literal sense. All the “forever” shit I told Joyce, sure as hell not going to happen with the slayer.
Wonder what my sire would say though, he has to know what Europe means. His bleeding “love of unlife” is there.
Wonder if he’s going to stop me.
Hope he’ll stop me.
Stop me and make me stay, Angel.
"You won't solve this disequilibrium by leaving."
Okay, guess the poof doesn’t give a damn about me then, seeing how it’s the bloody annoying bint stopping me from leaving. He just stands there, as if he’s making sure I really do leave. Fucker.
Though, it’s a bit weird that he’s just so okay with letting me go to Buffy. Not that I’m going to, mind you, but he doesn’t know that. Why isn’t he stopping me? Doesn’t he care?
"You might even make it worse." Eve adds as the elevator opens and Chucks walks out.
"Let's not make it worse. We don't want worse. I just went to the white room to see what the big cat had to say." Gunn loosens his tie and tries hard not to fidget.
I can smell the fear on him. Maybe it’s already worse but I don’t give a damn. Can’t go further down from where I am anyway. My sire doesn’t give a damn about me or worry that his precious Buffy will run into my arms. Why should he worry? No one can love Spike.
No one wants to love Spike.
Fuck, now I really don’t want to go back to Europe. Every place on that damn continent reminds me of my sire. Memories that had been invading my dreams for nearly a century, memories I don’t care to face.
“And?” Angel sounds strained, wonder if he’s controlling the urge to just shove me in the elevator and get it over with. Does he want to get rid of me that bad? And no, I’m not hurt. Not one bit. And this intensifying ache in my chest has nothing to do with it.
I don’t get my feelings hurt; William was the wimp, not me. William is the one who wants to go back to the good times, time when he felt protected, treasured and loved. Not me, I’m the Big Bad and I definitely don’t want to go back to the safe arms of my sire, no matter how perfect we seem to fit. Or maybe it is me, considering that I have William’s soul in me…am I William now? This is too bloody confusing.
Gunn and Eve are mumbling about something, but I don’t pay attention to them. I focus all my senses on Angel –- who seems to be staring a hole in my back, or maybe he is secretly wishing his gaze can materialize into a stake.
There’s a plan, stake me and everything will be alright again. Bet he’d do it too if his pet humans weren’t around. I mean, why wouldn’t he? It’s not like he loves me or anything.
“Spike...stay.”
Fine, you poof, I’ll go…wait, what? I turn and glance at him, confusion visible in my eyes.
“Please. Europe'll still be there after we've worked this out.”
Did my sire just say ‘please’? Never heard that before, well, not in a sincere tone anyway.
“Maybe.” Gunn says.
“Probably.” Weird, it’s almost like Angel wants me to stay.
Maybe he does, I realize this as I take a good look at him, instead of the glances I’ve been casting his way. He looks worried, even a bit afraid, that I’ll walk into the elevator and go to Europe, go to Buffy.
He doesn’t know that I don’t want Buffy anymore. She comes close to replacing the hole left in me when Angelus left. It’s like ripping a tree from the ground and planting another in its place. While most of the space may be filled up, there are always some cracks that only the old roots can reach.
I know that I did love her, but I don’t love her as much as I love my sire.
I loved Buffy enough to die for her, to die for the world. But I love my sire enough to want to live, to stay alive and be with him.
Angelus or Angel, it doesn’t matter. Just like whether the sky is cloudy or clear, it’s still the same fucking sky. I like it better clear anyway.
So yeah, I’m going to stay. I don’t care if he knows that he’s the reason that I love and embrace life, that he makes my body sings like it has bathed in slayer blood when he smiles at one of my comments, that after feeling the unbearable heat of burning to ashes, I crave the coolness of his skin and can care less for a warm human body. I don’t know if he knows that I still love him.
But it doesn’t matter anymore.
Because I stay.
END