Pairing: Angel/Fred
Rating: FRT
Summary: Fred thinks Angel needs company after he and Spike fight for
the cup.
This is written for thomasina75's Fred Ficathon - 7/17/05
My challenge from lilbreck
Pairing (if any): Angel{us}/Fred, Fred/Gunn, Fred/Lorne or any
combination of them
Three things you want in your fic: leather, stuffed animals and bubbles
{none have to be used in a sexual manner, I just wanna see what you
come
up with}
Two things you don’t want in your fic: death, complete non-con {semi
is
okay}
Rating Preference: higher the better, but it's really up to you
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Angel sighed and looked at Gunn. “He won the fight, Gunn... for the first time. Doesn't matter if the cup is real or not. In the end, he... Spike was stronger. He wanted it more.”
“Angel, it doesn't mean anything.” Gunn replied.
“What if it does? What if it means that... I'm not the one?”
~~~~~~~
He stepped into his apartment, the Spartan décor bothering him for the first time. Once he had surrounded himself with things that meant something to him, now he lived in a luxury devoid of personality.
The swoosh of the elevator doors closing behind him got him to moving and he headed to the kitchen. Feeding was high on his list of things to do although the idea of it held no pleasure. It was just blood, without all the inspiring aspects to go along with it. No fear, and panicked hearts and certainly no begging and bargaining for one’s life.
Turning on the microwave and leaning against the counter to wait, Angel wondered if Spike wasn’t right about the things that he said during their little skirmish. Was his disdain for his grandchilde more to do with his own evil influence on Spike than Spike’s own actions?
The timer dinged at the same time as his elevator door opened. Forgetting the blood for a moment, he slipped out of the kitchen to see who had come calling … unannounced.
He caught her scent before he saw her and put on a smile.
“Fred, hey.” he greeted her in his customary non-committal manner.
“Hey, Angel. I, um, just thought you might need to talk about it.”
He stared at her pretty sure that was exactly what he did not want to do. Lately, Fred had taken to being quite direct with him, not at all fazed by his period show of vampiric temper. She seemed unconcerned that he would lose it and hurt her, or any of them. He was unsure how he felt about that.
When he remained silent she continued, used to him passively deflecting her concern. “I mean, I know that Spike can be a bit hard to get along with and all but he’s sweeter than you think.”
He rolled his eyes at this, amazed as always, at how women always found a way fall for the little twerp. Even Fred, with her big brain, was taken with him in her own way and would defend him like a momma bear if needed.
“It’s not that, Fred. Well, he is a pain in the ass, but … I’m okay really. Thanks.”
She walked further into the room, oblivious to what he considered a dismissal. “Who won?”
And Christ in Heaven she really knew how to bring on the pain. He was sure she was a descendant of Darla’s. “Does it matter? It was fake.”
“Oh, so Spike won.”
“No,” he said, petulant and getting angry. “Well, yes, but define won, because it’s all relative really.” He backed up to the kitchen to retrieve his blood, hoping that she would be in a queasy sort of mood.
There was a book on the table, old and ragged about the edges. She sat in one of the cubed leather chairs and picked it up, curious. “This isn’t one of Wesley’s, is it, Angel? He’ll be furious that it’s all messed up like this.”
Too late, he returned, glass in hand, to find her opening the book. “Oh no, it’s not.” He moved quickly, wanting to stop her from delving too deeply. He reached for the book, but she was already skimming through it, nose buried, and Angel temporarily forgotten.
“Whoa,” she whispered. “How old are these?”
She was looking at pictures, old photographs, taken back when he had no soul and unlife was a lot simpler.
“Very old.” He wanted to snatch the book from her. A few days ago he was feeling nostalgic … Spike did that to him … and had taken the thing from its hiding place in one of his old trunks.
“Is that … oh my God, that’s Spike! Look at him!” She gazed up at Angel, all starry-eyed and grinning madly. “He was so cute. And the old-fashioned outfit.” A big sigh came from her.
“Well, looks were and still are deceiving,” he replied, downing the rest of his blood in one swallow, not sure if he was implying that Spike was still cute, which made him shudder violently.
“He can be obstinate.” She said absently while flipping through the pages. She came across one of a dark hair-girl with bright eyes that jumped out at her. “Who’s she?”
Angel was warming to this. Maybe it was Fred’s non-judgmental curiosity or maybe he just had a need to share something of his past, but he was more open to talking about this than about Spike beating him to that damned cup.
“That’s Dru … Drusilla. She is Spike’s sire.”
“Oh, she turned Darla, that’s right. So you’re her sire then?”
He had been trying to go the roundabout way with that. “Um , yeah.”
“She’s very pretty. Was she nice?”
Angel nodded his agreement. A lot of what happened today stemmed from two vampire’s desire to possess this one pretty girl. His motive had been different at the time; to torment William, but the race for her affection and body lasted for two decades.
“Nice isn’t a word I’d use to describe Dru. She’s different, but just as evil as the rest of us were.”
Turning another page, Fred began to frown, tiny lines forming between her eyebrows. “What’s this?”
Angel came around behind her to see from her angle. The photo appeared to be of a dog, a cat, and two rabbits, with Drusilla standing between them. Something was off about the animals in the picture and of course the observant, inquisitive Winifred Burkle noticed.
“Drusilla had strange ideas. One year we had gone to the World’s Fair. Spike won a lot of stuffed animals for her and she liked them for a time, but after a while she grew bored with them and eventually they got lost. So …” And this was the hard part. “She decided to make her own.”
“Her own what?” The frown deepened.
“Animals. Caught them, killed them and stuffed them herself.”
He gave her a plaintive look, one that managed to hold no apologies while conveying that it was all ludicrous.
“Oh Angel, that’s just nasty!” Her nose and lip did that little snarling thing that he thought was adorable.
“Yeah, they started to stink after a while and Darla made her get rid of them, but she insisted on taking a picture first.” He conveniently left out the part where he had tortured and ate the photographer afterward.
“Well, good … I think.” She closed the book, having seen enough for now. “You care for them still.”
It was not a question and he did not bothering answering. “I was going to take a bath, Fred. Soak some of the bruises away.”
“You kinda took a beatin’, huh?”
“What? No. Spike’s beat up too. Way more beat up,” he blurted.
“But he won, so he’s feeling good about it.”
“What is winning?” Shrugging Angel moved toward the kitchen to rinse his glass.
“It’s relative, right?”
“Exactly.”
“Then let’s celebrate.”
“Celebrate? Celebrate what?” The girl could be as confusing as a certain peroxide blond he knew. Heaven knew he only understood half the crap the fell from Spike’s mouth. He thought since most of it was insulting to him that he should be thankful.
“Your brand of winning.” She boldly opened his refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of champagne. “Got glasses?” she asked, waving the bottle in front of her with a smile.
He did and took them down from the cabinet. She handed him the bottle to open and rinsed the dust from the glasses. Soon they both were holding full flutes.
“To finding something in losing that makes you the winner.” Pleased with her toast she clinked his glass with hers and took a sip. He followed suit.
Her hand went to her nose and she shook her head. “The bubbles always tickle,” she explained before taking a bigger swallow and turning her big eyes on him, expectant.
“Oh, um … I’m really not good at this.” When she just sighed, he gave in and really tried to think of something. After a while he settled on truth. “To discovering that I’ll always be a winner because I get to have friends like you.”
She smiled, blushing nicely, and leaned up to kiss him on the cheek. Her heat seeped into him and he wanted to grab her and hold her close. “Ahh, that’s sweet.”
All too soon she was gone, pouring herself another glass of the bubbly. Angel held his glass out for a refill as well. This was nice. A chat about things other than fighting evil was novel for him as lately he had no time for anything else.
“What’s going on with you and Gunn? Are you two…” he trailed off, unsure why he had even asked, a little embarrassed because he knew deep down just why he was asking.
She seemed open to discuss it and did not notice his discomfort. “I’ll always care about Charles, but things haven’t been right for a while. We’re good friends now though. What about you? Nina, I mean. Are you still seeing her?” Her eyes watched him, hopeful and simmering with something they both did not ever speak of.
If it were up to Nina, they would be marching down the aisle. “I guess. I like her…” But we really don’t talk about anything except my work or her wolfiness. “I see you with that Knox guy a lot.” He changed the subject slickly.
“He’s sweet, kinda worships me. It’s weird. Not like us.” Her nose did that thing again and he found himself leaning forward to kiss it, kiss her. She tilted her head just so, making it easier for him and his lips brushed her nose lightly, placing a soft kiss there before moving on to her sweet mouth.
The swoosh of the elevator doors opening caught them both by surprise and they snapped apart quickly. He watched for a second while she licked her lips before focusing on the swishing of leather as the bane of his existence approached.
“Oi, Peaches, need a place to crash,” Spike announced as he sauntered in, leather coat billowing behind him in rock video style.
Angel wondered if the blond practiced in a mirror, then slapped himself mentally for the stupid thought.
“Get out, Spike.” It was reflexive and Angel knew that Spike was not going to leave just as he knew that he was not going to force him.
The younger vampire ignored him, in favor of Fred whom he leaned in to kiss on the cheek. “The lovely Winifred. What brings you to the land of Gloom and Doom?” If he noticed his grandsire’s scent on the human, he was gentlemanly enough not to mention it.
That kiss had been nice. She wanted more of them from the vampire, but knew these two had things they needed to work out, complicated things, before she and Angel could begin anything. Realizing Spike was waiting for an answer she glanced at them both and smiled.
“Just helping Angel celebrate his big win.”
The End