Pairing: Spike/Angel
Summary: Angel and Spike think about each other after St. Vigeous.
Feedback: PLEASE!!!!
Distribution: If you have any of my previous fics, you may have this. Otherwise, please ask.
Disclaimer: I own nothing. It all belongs to Joss and a bunch of other people who are not now and have never been me.
Author's Notes: I'd like to dedicate this to midnight, Danielle, Mel, Kitty, and my entire LJ flist!
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Cold Blue Dreams
He hadn't been the same since St. Vigeous. He didn't talk, *couldn't* talk, about it with Buffy. But what happened had cut him to his soul. Spike's coldness and willingness to sacrifice him so easily for Dru hurt, and hurt badly. Angel could remember a time, not so very long ago, when things would have been different. Had the soul changed him so much? Cost him the one thing he tried not to want, but yearned for with every drop of borrowed blood in his veins.Spike?
Seeing his beautiful, blond childe again had brought it all back. For Spike *was* his childe. Dru might have turned him, but it was Angel, no, Angelus, who had made him, molded him, turned him into the creature of terrifyingly brutal beauty who had just tried to drain him dry without a second thought. The creature who had shown not a trace of desire for him. And that had hurt more deeply than anything else that Spike had done to him.
Angel had tried to bait him, to provoke him into revealing the lust that *had* to still burn within him the way it did for Angel. But he saw not a trace of it in his childe's cold, distant blue eyes. Spike loved Drusilla and cared nothing for him and that caused Angel's demon to roar in anger within him. He told himself that he was glad that the church had come crashing down on his childer. He would never forgive Drusilla for being willing to drain him. And he would never forgive Spike for being able to stop loving him. The way Angel wished he could stop loving Spike.
But as Angel drifted into uneasy slumber, he knew that his dreams would once again be filled with sharp cheekbones, a cruel, talented mouth, and the most brilliant blue eyes ever seen. That was the terrible price of living forever. You lived long enough to know that dreams don't come true.
The Darkness of His Eyes
Spike was crippled. Crippled down to the core of himself. Crippled in body. And crippled in spirit.
Damn the Hellmouth. Damn Drusilla. Damn the Slayer. And damn Angelus. No, Angel. Best not to get the two confused. Spike had nearly made that mistake. And it tore him up inside.
Having his true Sire, or at least the souled version, chained up and at his mercy had been almost a wet dream come true. How Spike had longed to make Angel beg for him and for the pleasures they had once shared. But when he had looked into the dark vampire's eyes, he had seen nothing but scorn and hatred in their depths. Nothing that mirrored the heat and lust he was sure must be shining from his own.
And then when Angel had taunted him about Drusilla, well, that had nearly undone him. How he had wanted to take the smirk off Angel's face by thrusting his cock into that arrogant mouth. But he didn't. He couldn't bear letting Angel know how very much his William still longed for him. So he had renewed his resolve to drain the bastard for his dark goddess, assuring himself that would make his and Drusilla's passion for each other burn so hot that it would melt away every trace of the desire Spike still harbored for Angelus.
Even if he had succeeded though, Spike knew now that nothing, not even sunlight, could burn hotter than the heat of his love for his Sire.his Angelus.his Angel. So Spike remained trapped.trapped in the wheelchair his injuries had confined him to.trapped by his desperate love for Angel.and trapped by the knowledge that that love had no echo in the soul of his Sire. And when he slept, he was cursed with dreams of cold, dark eyes.
The End.