Hellbound Together

Author:  Titti

Episode: Hellbound

Pairing:  Angel/Spike

Rating: PG

Email: titti_adriano@hotmail.com

Webpage: http://www.tittisrealm.com/fantasy/

Disclaimer: AtV, BtVS and their characters belong to Joss Whedon, 20th Century Fox, UPN and the WB.

Summary: After the episode ends, Spike goes to see Angel.

Note: Written for End of Days at http://www.livejournal.com/community/ats_endofdays

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~    

 

 

There was one good thing about being a ghost, or a spectre, as Fred liked to say.  He could appear anywhere by wanting to be there.  With a blink of an eye, he was in Angel's office, sitting comfortably on a chair in front of Angel.

"And he's back."  Angel sighed.  "No, Spike, we can't duplicate the experiment, and annoying me won't change that."

"I know," Spike said calmly.  "I made my choice, Angel.  As I see it, if I'm going to hell, not much of a difference if I'm corporeal or not."  He played with non-existent lint on his jeans before disappearing.

Angel breathed in relief and went back to the paper work sitting in front of him.  Working at Wolfram & Hart had taught him where true evil lay: in paperwork.  He jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder.  "What the-?  Spike?"

"Yeah, mate.  Pavayne did teach me something.  That if I want something bad enough..."

A pale imitation of a smile appeared on Angel's face.  "And you want to touch me."

Spike backed off.  "More like kick your brooding arse, but I don't have that control.  Yet.  It gives me something to look forward."  He circled the desk again and sagged down into the chair.  "What happened to Pavayne?"

"He's safely tucked away.  He's living in his own private hell, and I can assure you that he won't escape, won't even get a reprieve."

Spike nodded thoughtfully.  "I know he's a right bastard, but that... if you ever find a way to kill him without consequences..."

"Have you become empathic?  Feeling sorry for the man?"  Angel asked amused, and Spike was reminded of Angelus's malicious amusement at other people's suffering.

"I felt sympathy even without a soul.  You never did, not even know that you have a soul.  That's always been the difference between us."  Spike got up and leaned across the desk.  "I know the real you, Liam."

Angel stared into Spike's blue eyes for a moment and nodded.  "Just remember that I know you, Will."  He went to tap Spike's forehead but his fingers move past the spectral form.  "I guess I don't want it enough."

"No, mate.  It means that I don't want it enough."  With a blink, Spike disappeared and reappeared, sitting on the desk, right in front of Angel.  "Pavayne is like Angelus.  He enjoys exploiting people's weaknesses, humiliating them, but he couldn't with me.  I'm not the same Will, Angelus.  Remember that."

"And I'm not the same Angelus."

Spike shrugged.  "Maybe, but you're becoming him again.  Slowly this place is turning into him.  Be careful."

Angel leaned back to avoid looking up.  "Why do you care?"

"If we're spending eternity in hell together, I'd rather have you than Angelus."  Spike leaned forward, his hands on either side of Angel's face.  He concentrated and pressed his lips against Angel's.  He could feel the electricity as they made contact.

Like magic, the moment was gone and Spike sat back again.   "Besides, you like my poetry."  He winked and disappeared.

The End

back