Title: Sweet Hereafter
Author: Eve
Email: alfa_fighter_3@hotmail.com
Pairing: W/A/S
Rating: NC-17 overall
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy own all characters from BtVS and A:tS, the rest are mine.
Author's Notes: In my world, there was no Tara, no Glory, and Angel has been in love with Willow since she brought him back from Hell
Feedback: Writers need feedback like mere mortals need air. :-P
Summary: Fifteen years after the opening of the Hellmouth, Willow, Spike, and Angel meet again

Chapter 11


Angel paced on the sidewalk. He had been tempted to seek Spike out, but then Penelope wouldn't know where to find them. He was beginning to think he should get them cellphones, which would work out if he ever remembered to carry the one that he already had.

He had to admit, he was almost looking forward to the imminent battle. Spike always had a good fight in him, but Angel still always won. Fun all around. Well, maybe not for Spike. He wondered if this time would be different. He'd seen Spike reduce a barroom to a museum of shredded flesh and entrails in a fit of insane rage. But Angel had never had that particular brand of anger directed at him. It didn't matter. He knew how to handle Spike.

The street was deserted as far as his eyes could see. Any vampires had quickly moved onto less dangerous places, and even the humans out this late had sensed an uneasiness and scurried away. He suspected that anyone within a half mile of Spike had the urge to flee.

Angel's pacing stopped abruptly as Spike's presence dwindled to almost nothing. Emotions no longer permeated the air, but there was still a faint thrumming all around him. And he could smell the unmistakable scent of his Childe.

"Just because I can't see you doesn't mean I don't know you're there." He heard the smack of combat boots on the pavement, as if Spike had swooped down from the roof of the building. When he turned, the blond vampire was leaning against a lamp post, arms crossed over his chest.

"But it's still bloody annoying, isn't it?" Spike had a small smile on his face

"What do you want, Spike?" Angel growled. He was expecting something like "Stay away from Willow," or "She's mine, bugger off," or "Touch her again and I'll kill you, you great big poof." So what Spike actually said threw him.

"I want to talk."

"About what?"

"About your day. Willow came to see you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, she did."

"What happened?"

Angel couldn't stop the small frown that creased his brow. Spike had to know exactly what happened, otherwise he wouldn't be here. Mind games weren't Spike's style. "Iintroduced her to the team."

Spike didn't blink. "What else?"

Angel sighed and took a step towards him. "What the hell--"

"What. Else," Spike said, his voice low and dangerous. His lips were still curved in a tiny smile, and Angel realized that he looked sort of, well . . . crazy. Suddenly wary, he halted his forward momentum and studied his Childe. Spike hadn't moved, hadn't blinked, hadn't changed his expression the entire time they'd been talking. All the anger that pounded the city was now wrapped tightly within Spike's body, ready to explode. He couldn't believe that Spike was getting so wound up over a kiss.

"You happy with your life? Got everything you want?" Spike seemed to change subjects yet again. "Feed yet today?"

Angel snapped. "Cut the bullshit Spike. Just say what you want to say, make your empty threats, throw a couple of punches and then be on your way." Very quickly, Angel found himself pinned to the sidewalk. He hadn't even seen Spike coming.

"Watch your mouth, Peaches. I'm not your William anymore."

He was faster than Angel remembered. Blue eyes bored into his, and he was shocked by the amount of hate he saw in them. This had to be about more than just a kiss. There was something he wasn't getting. Maybe Spike had finally lost it. He was eerily calm in a situation where Angel knew he would have thrown the first punch, relishing the fight, being cocky, mouthing off. This Spike was doing none of those things. Angel's uneasiness increased.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, Spike's weight was gone. Angel blinked a few times, and watched his Childe standing a few feet away. "Get up, you pillock. We've got unfinished business."

Slowly, trying to make sense of Spike's demeanor, Angel got to his feet. "And what would that be?"

"I'm going to kill you."

Angel suddenly realized the seriousness of the situation. He didn't know the why or how come of it--Spike really wanted to kill him. This wasn't just another show of bravado, trying to prove he could hold his own against his Sire. This was meant to be a battle to the death. He didn't want to die any more than he wanted to kill his Childe, but Spike obviously didn't have the same objections. He didn't know what to do, but he didn't have much time to think about it. He barely had enough time to duck out of the way of the boot that was flying at his head.

And so it began.

They traded blows evenly at first, each knowing the other's move before he made it. Spike would aim a kick at Angel's midsection, Angel would block it with his arm. Angel would send his fist flying towards Spike's jaw, Spike would spin out of the way. It was like a carefully choreographed fight scene without the loud music and the requisite one-liners. Then Angel felt Spike's blunt nails slash across his cheek, leaving a gaping wound. The smell of his own blood and Spike's grim look of triumph infuriated him. He snarled and launched himself at the vampire that had been the bane of, and the reason for, his existence over the past 150 years.

He punched, he kicked, he slashed--nothing seemed to faze Spike. A blow to the side of the head only stopped him for a second, and Angel began to wonder how long this was going to go on. All that could be heard in the street was snarls and growls, heavy breathing more out of instinct than any real need. Angel swept Spike's feet out from under him. Before he could even let out a startled "Oof," Angel pounced, and banged his head against the concrete.

"Why don't you tell me what this is really about?" Spike struggled to get up but Angel bore down with all the strength he possessed. If they were really going to kill each other, he'd like to know why before it happened. What was it with everyone taking up his cryptic routine? Angel slammed Spike's head against the ground once more for good measure. "Explain yourself, boy."

For the first time, Spike betrayed his calm exterior. "You took her away," he spat, eyes flashing. "Did you really have to have her that badly?"

Angel knew Spike could only be talking about Willow, but was completely turned around by the younger vampire's words. So when Spike smashed his forehead against Angel's face, he was too distracted to do anything but roll backwards, clutching his throbbing nose.Spike arched his back and flipped onto his feet effortlessly. The air was growing thick with his emotions, nearly causing it to crackle with electricity. Angel wiped the dripping blood from his face, waiting for the explosion that was sure to come. Spike's foot connected with his ribs and he barely suppressed a howl of pain. The next time Spike came near, he was ready.

"Why'd you do it? Why couldn't you bloody well leave her alone?"

Angel caught Spike's foot and threw him onto his back, but Spike was up again a second later. It was enough time for Angel to get to his feet. He could feel the demon within screaming to be let out. It's cry for bloodshed was one that Angel found it hard to disagree with. He felt his features shift, and snarled through a mouthful of sharp teeth. In response, Spike's human face melted away and he quickly began to advance. Just then Angel heard the slamming of car doors and Penelope's voice.

"Angel!"

From the corner of his eye, he saw Mac running full speed toward Spike. He tried to warn Mac, but by the time he'd gotten his demon under control, Spike had already flipped the demon over his body as if he were a feather and not two hundred pounds ofs upernatural muscle. Mac's body flew into the alley, and he lay motionless among the piles of garbage.

Sean cried out in anger, and suddenly Spike was surrounded by a ball of blue light. Award, Angel realized, wondering how long the young warlock could hold the spell. He began to relax slightly, intent on knocking his Childe unconscious, tying him up, and then getting some answers after a sound beating.

Spike stepped through the ward, the magicks rippling around him like nothing more than water. He settled yellow eyes on his would-be captor. Angel was further baffled when Spike began to stalk towards the car, looking as if he was going to harm Sean. Penelope stepped in front of the stunned warlock, holding a wooden cross that could double as a stake due to its wickedly sharp end. She met Spike's predatory gaze with one of her own.

"Don't worry, Pen. He can't hurt you."

The yellow eyes sliced back through the darkness, and Spike let a feral grin slip loose."Don't be so sure about that, Angelus," he whispered, so that only Angel's vampiric hearing would pick it up. That could only mean one thing. The chip was gone, or no longer working. For the first time that evening, Angel felt a prickle of real fear. He glanced between his Childe and his employees. There was no way he could get to them before Spike.

"Leave them out of it, boy. This is between you and me." Whatever 'this' was, he added to himself. As expected, Spike growled at the use of the word boy, and turned back toAngel.

"Penelope. Sean. Go check Mac." They stared at him unbelievingly. "Go," he said, firming his tone. "Stay out of the way." Avoiding Spike the best they could, they made their way to the alley. Angel and Spike began to circle each other.

"It must have drove you crazy not to have her. To know that I was the one who held her, who kissed her, who loved her." Spike leapt at him, and for a minute their limbs were nothing but a blur. Angel felt the satisfying snap of bone beneath his palm. He heard Spike's wail of rage and pain, and then he felt himself fly through the air. Not only was Spike faster than he remembered, he was also stronger. He could still feel Spike's foot in his gut despite the fact that he was lying ten feet away. Angel got to his feet, trying to recall the last time he'd been knocked on his ass so many times.

Spike's lower lip was split and dripping blood by the pint. Angel wasn't sure if he'd done it, or if Spike had cut his own lip on his sharp fangs. His left arm dangled useless at his side, the collarbone snapped and the joint dislocated. Still he kept coming.

"So you had to take her, just like you have to take everything else. You weren't satisfied with taking my life, with taking Druscilla, keeping the Slayer's heart so that she couldn't love me no matter what I did. And now Willow. You don't deserve her. You deserve to die for what you did to her."

Angel had enough of Spike's puzzling accusations. "And just what was it that I did?!" he yelled, knocking Spike in the side. The blond vampire only paused for a half second before letting out a growl that reverberated throughout the whole street. He grabbed Angel and slammed him against the closest building, spitting and snarling in his Sire's face."You turned her, you bastard." His words were slightly distorted with rage, but Angel understood well enough.

He felt as if he were falling, even though Spike had him securely pinned to the wall, his feet actually dangling an inch or two above the pavement. It was like when he had been sent to Hell. A sudden clear and terrifying awareness washed over him that something terrible had happened. A yawning pit opened up within his chest, and he felt his heart and mind being torn apart. Willow had been turned. It was impossible. But why would Spike lie? And why would Spike think that he'd done it? And again: Willow had been turned. He was brought back to reality by Spike shaking him.

"Look at me, you sonofabitch." Spike shook his head, and his human features replaced those of the demon. Angel suddenly felt something hard and pointy pressing against his chest, and he looked down to discover that it was connected to Spike's hand. He was too shocked at everything that had suddenly happened to put up a fight. The pressure was quickly increasing.

"As you die, I want you to know it was me that killed you. Not some demon. It was me. Spike. Your Childe."




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