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Time is
the Fire in Which we Burn
Episode 6 - Chapter
1
Wesley prepared his ambush extremely carefully: odd music, which he'd nicked
from his victim; a vast supply of alcohol to keep things flowing; and a video
he couldn't even look at the cover of without blushing. It wasn't easy getting
the mood right for such a seduction. He'd run through his script a number of
times, even paced it out once or twice, each rehearsal adding some better, more
telling lines and a little more credibility to this incredible scenario. He
felt it was almost perfect; he'd witnessed Spike's capitulation in his mind
so many times he could almost feel the vampire in his arms.
Wesley shook himself. It was even harder getting a seduction right for someone
else.
He clenched his jaw as he thought of Angel. He was so angry with the silent,
withdrawn vampire that he could feel his pulse beginning to race at the stress
of just picturing his calm acceptance, his lassitude and indifference.
If Angel couldn't seduce his own lover back to him, then Wesley was going to
give it his very best shot.
He checked the Spike-seduction supplies one more time and then went for the
kill: changing into his black leather pants and an expensive, ivory silk shirt.
There was a soft knock at the door. He swallowed nervously then strode over
and wrenched it open.
'Angel?' Wesley lowered his voice half an octave and repeated his greeting,
trying also to take a note of panic out of the simple hail. 'Angel.'
Angel nodded and, uncharacteristically, came in without waiting to be invited.
He glanced around, then turned off the music and the video, and helped himself
to a beer.
'You need to stay out of this, Wes.'
Wesley recovered from his shock when those challenging words hit him. All his
fury with the vampire rose uncontrollably, and he snapped back, 'You're too
pathetic to do anything, so I'm doing it for you.'
Angel stayed infuriatingly calm and replied, 'I am doing something.'
'No, Angel, you're not. You're letting that God-awful man….'
'I'm letting Spike go.'
Wesley floundered to a halt in his vitriolic tirade against the priest, floored
by this comment. Angel sat on the couch and watched the human come hesitatingly
forward then added, 'I was willing to do it for my own reasons - to save my
soul - should I do less for him?'
'He needs you, Angel.'
Angel shrugged. 'Right now, he needs something else, and I'm respecting that
need - as you have to.'
Fury boiled over in Wesley's heart once more, and he stormed to the wall, banged
his hand angrily on it then flung back to Angel. 'No… I don't, Angel. You can
accept this like a bloody….'
Wesley bit his tongue so badly when Angel flattened him against the wall that
a red arc of blood splattered on the dark features of the vampire. Angel ignored
the blood entirely, which scared Wesley far more than the sudden attack. Angel
bent so close that his lips brushed the stubble on Wesley's cheek. 'Don't mistake
my reaction to this as acceptance. I would end all human life in this city if
that would bring Spike back to me. But it won't. This will: I'll be his friend,
his guide and his mentor, and one day, he'll come back to me of his own free
will.'
'You have to tell him this - tell him how much you love him.'
Angel let Wesley go and dusted him down a little, only then wiping the blood
off the soft lips and his own face, licking provocatively at the red wetness
on his hand. He looked at his fingers for a moment then replied softly, 'He
knows. Jesus, this is tearing him apart. Can't you feel his pain?'
'Yes, I can. But I'm more concerned about yours.'
For the first time, Angel's carefully constructed façade slipped. Wesley took
a silent intake of breath and put a hand tentatively on the tense shoulder.
'You can't keep this up, Angel. You'll tear apart inside.'
Angel hesitated for a long time, looking deep into Wesley's eyes then said distinctly,
'Then think how he feels. He senses everything I'm feeling. He knows what I'm
thinking, what I want. He was willing to leave me once to spare me the torment
of seeing him die one day, but knowing all that, he's still driven to do this.'
He bent his head for a moment then lifted it again. 'If you saw hell in my eyes,
try to imagine what you would see if you truly looked into his.'
Wesley's shoulders sagged. 'What can I do, Angel? I want to help.'
Angel visibly relaxed a little, too. He nodded. 'Treat his decision with respect.
Remember he doesn't love any of us any less - he's just trying to negotiate
the most difficult path of his life.'
'I think he's lost his fucking roadmap.'
For the first time, Angel smiled. He hesitated but then pulled Wesley into his
arms. 'Do I tell you enough how much I like you, Watcher? Especially when you're
bleeding....'
Wesley mock punched him on the arm. 'The sympathy is freely given; the blood
I'd prefer to keep.'
'Spoilsport.' Angel turned and gave Wesley a light kiss, but just as his lips
pulled away, he tensed and pressed them back harder. He leant on Wesley, pressing
him back to the wall. His tongue sought entry and went unerringly to the welling
blood blister, probing it. Wesley was momentarily confused, and Angel sensed
his hesitation, pulling back a little, his eyes hooded. 'I'm doing it again:
using you, and you're gonna tell me you don't want a to be substitute fuck or….'
'Actually, Angel, I was thinking…' he trailed his eyes down to Angel's groin
'that I'd just discovered the first positive outcome of Spike not wanting you.'
Angel raised his eyes in surprise, and they shared a moment of complete clarity:
that one infinitesimal move from either would start them on a path neither had
looked for at the beginning of this confrontation.
The knock on the door made them both jump. Angel recovered first. 'Spike.'
Wesley nodded.
Neither moved at first, but then Wesley eased himself away from Angel's overwhelming
presence. He adjusted his pants, frowned when it didn't help, so just untucked
his shirt and let it hang, loose and concealing, as he walked to the door.
Spike was leaning on the wall opposite, his head bent in thought.
'Spike! Good timing.'
Spike looked up and saw Angel. 'What is this?'
'We're going to watch a video and have a few beers. I thought you might like
to join us. I want to stay your friend, Spike - if I can… if you'll let me.'
Spike pushed off the wall, confused. 'Of course… I mean, yeah. I mean, of course
we're friends.' He came in and gave Angel a significant look then turned silently
to Wesley, his head tilted on one side, clearly sensing something about him
too.
As he stood between them, for the first time, Wesley saw the vampire through
Angel's eyes and with Angel's better knowledge of him. Spike's pain screamed
to him, made his belly clench with an instinctive desire to fight or flee. He
looked to Angel for support and watched the dark vampire conceal his expression,
shut down his emotions, and respond to this terrifying cry for help in the way
he had promised. He came over to Spike and clapped him on the back. 'I've a
new book I want to show you. It's a bit dry, but there are some great insights
into the soul.' He lifted his hand from Spike's back as soon as he'd completed
his friendly greeting and offered him a beer.
Wesley turned his back on the small scene, took a deep breath then turned again.
'I must check my library for you, Spike; it'll give a new definition to the
word dry, I'm afraid.'
Spike made a weak smile but seemed uncertain what he was supposed to do next.
Angel sat down and began a light, inconsequential chat with Wesley, and Wesley
sat, slightly more shakily, and responded like an automaton to the words.
Eventually, Spike sat down, lowered his head and returned to whatever thoughts
had been occupying him before he came in.
Their erections throbbing, leaking and draining blood from their brains, Angel
and Wesley continued a bizarre conversation where neither heard, nor cared about
what the other said.
After an hour, Spike left. He hadn't spoken, other than monosyllabic replies
to questions that seemed to confuse him.
There was the slightest hesitation as he realised that Angel meant to stay longer
with Wesley, but almost at the same time, Angel appeared to change his mind
and stood up. Cheerfully, he escorted Spike downstairs, walked someway past
his apartment door before turning and saying with an encouraging smile, 'Come
over early tomorrow.'
Spike was unable to refuse for Angel spun on his heel and left.
Spike entered his apartment, carefully laid down his coat and went into his
bedroom. He sat on the windowsill and drew his knees up to his chin.
It was the moment he waited for every day - the moment when he could be alone
and start the fearful task of deconstructing every conversation with Angel and
every look they had shared, until the whole day lay in shattered pieces that
he could sweep away, purifying him once more. He started on Angel's words, concentrating
on his voice, breaking it down into fragments that made no sense. He ignored
soft remembered endearments: baby, childe, Will. These memories came from the
devil, and they burnt him.
When he could no longer hear Angel's voice, he began on the body. Every inch
had to be erased from his memory: what he had worn that day; whether he carried
any injuries; how his hair had looked; what his hands had touched; where his
gaze had landed, and what expression had been in those unfathomable dark eyes.
Bit-by-bit, Spike nightly consigned Angel to a lock-down where he put the evil
thoughts and sinful desires that condemned him. Finally, after many silent hours,
Spike was where and what he wanted to be: nowhere and nothing - a blank page
- exactly as he had come into this world before the shit that had shaped and
made him into the evil he now was.
His mind spun with uncontrollable thoughts, but it was utterly devoid of Angel.
His body ached, but it could not be for Angel.
When he reached this state of total whiteness, he would savour it for a short
while before falling, exhausted and fully clothed, on the bed. The respite was
too short though, for in his dreams, the whole edifice of his love for Angel
was intricately reconstructed: every inch of his skin; the smell of him; how
he felt to touch; how his voice rose as he cried out in orgasm; what his laugh
sounded like when they were alone; how he stood; how he walked; how he held
his body poised and tense as he ejaculated; and how he lay warm and happy whenever
his childe was there.
Spike's dreams brought his sin crashing back, and he awoke blistered, bleeding
and crying out in pain for the comfort that would never be his again.
All too soon, the new day would begin, and he had to fulfil his promise to Angel:
let him be his friend. Angel's idea of friendship demanded his continual presence,
and so the sinful thoughts would worm their way into his brain once more, leaving
him no respite until he reached this quiet time when he was alone.
With a sigh, Spike rose from the sill and lay on the bed.
He'd had the mattress changed, but he could still smell Angel. He sometimes
wondered if he merely sensed his own sin, so deeply did Angel's essence pervade
his body.
Hoping that the dreams would not come, that he would be spared the burning for
one night, Spike's body succumbed to the need for sleep.
Spike was morosely bathing his wounds in the morning when there was a knock.
He opened it cautiously and then hurriedly, 'Nate? Here? I mean… hi.'
The priest smiled. 'Can't I make a house call on my favourite customer?'
Spike frowned slightly at the term but, self-consciously, went to pull on a
T-shirt.
'What are those?' The priest indicated the burns.
'Caught myself on the stove.'
'Careless.'
'Yeah. Why have you come here? I'm coming to you tonight, remember?'
'I thought we could have a talk.'
'Okay, only I'm going to….' He dried up, well aware of the priest's views on
his continued friendship with Angel.
To his surprise, the priest nodded. 'You should keep up your friendships. All
of them.'
'But you said I should cut myself off from them all - that they were corrupting
me.'
'Yeah, well, what do I know? You need friends, Spike; we all do.'
Confused, Spike went into the kitchen to make some tea and watched the man as
he sat leisurely in a chair. He patted his cassock a few times, seemingly pleased
with the fit. 'So, Spike, how's about we reconsider some of this soul business?'
Carefully, Spike put a mug on the desk and perched opposite him with another.
'Some new teachings?'
'Nah. I was thinking more along the lines of having some fun - too much study
makes Spike a dull boy?'
'Are you drunk…?'
The priest laughed. 'On communion wine?' He rose and came toward Spike. 'I guess
telling you I've changed my mind about things is gonna come as a shock…?'
Spike jerked back. 'I can't be saved?'
'Not about that, about this….' He put a hand on Spike's cheekbone, but used
to the familiar, paternal gesture from the priest, Spike did not pull back as
swiftly as he wanted to. When the man bent to kiss him, however, he dodged away
so quickly that the tea flung between them, wetting their clothes and scalding
them.
'Fucking hell! Spike! That's hot, you fuckwit!'
'Jordan!'
Spike stood up in total outrage, staring at the man. After some considerable
bluff, the figure shrugged, and Jordan admitted defeat, shaking off the borrowed
appearance.
He saw Spike's expression and quickly slid defensively into his eight-year old
girl look and began to twiddle a hair ribbon innocently around one finger. 'Sorry.'
It was totally unexpected and even more unwelcome, but Spike began to laugh.
The girl grinned too, and Jordan turned back to his usual look.
Spike sat back down and pinched his wet T-shirt away. 'I should kill you for
that little stunt.'
'Yeah, I was crap, wasn't I? Jeez, got the clothes but lost it with the lingo!'
'Did you seriously think that I'd…?'
'All I thought was that I miss you, and I want you back, babe. That's all.'
Spike clenched his jaw. 'I lied, Jordan - I don't use the fucking stove, remember?
I burn at night - when I dream. I dream of Angel, and that sin is burning….'
'Crap. That's fucking crap, and you'd know it if that fucking priest wasn't
so rammed up your fucking rectum - metaphorically speaking, unfortunately. You're
just having some weird demon psycho… semantic… type thingy. You need….'
'I'm not playing a game here! I went to the furthest place you can go on this
planet without falling off the edge to get my soul replaced. I was tortured
for a very long time in ways I've never told anyone, and I withstood it because
I wanted to be a man again - a good man.
Jordan listened to all this and then added sweetly, 'So that Angel would love
you.'
Spike moved around him carefully. 'You'd better go.'
'Sam misses you.'
'I'm still fucking here!'
Jordan opened the door and went out into the hallway. 'It's a pity you can't
look in mirrors, Spike: you'd see just how much you aren't here. I'm not going
anywhere, by the way. When this latest phase of yours is over, I'll be here,
waiting. I've lived a very long time, and I can very, very patient when there
is something I want.'
Spike shut the door angrily, his equilibrium shaken before the day had even
started. He broke his promise to Angel and didn't go to the hotel. Instead,
he went down into the tunnels and found somewhere quiet and dry to think. He
was beginning to conclude that the priest was right: it was too dangerous to
see his friends anymore - too dangerous to see Angel anymore.
Nate wanted Spike to study every night with him and had given him a key, but
he often did not finish his church duties until very late. This night, he did
not return to his apartment until an hour before dawn, but he smiled despite
his exhaustion when he saw that Spike had stayed and waited.
Spike turned when he came in and frowned. 'You work too much.'
'Can you ever work too much for God? Let me change.'
He wandered into the bedroom, and Spike listened to the familiar sound of the
shower and the rustling as Nate removed his clerical garb. Eventually, he came
back out, rubbing his hair. 'It's really hot in here tonight. Let's go up top.'
Spike looked puzzled, and Nate chuckled. 'Follow me.'
'I thought I had been doing that.'
The priest turned at something he heard in Spike's tone. 'What's wrong?'
Spike shrugged. 'I'm just tired.'
Nodding at the truth of this, Nate went down the hallway and up the stairs.
When he reached the next floor, he pulled a small ladder down from the ceiling
and climbed up, pushing open an emergency roof access. Spike followed him up
wonderingly and went immediately to the edge, looking at the church. Nate stood
alongside him. 'It's even more beautiful from up here, isn't it?'
Spike shivered and moved away a little to light a cigarette.
Trying to ignore the smoking, which he hated, Nate sat down and laid out the
books he'd brought up with him. Spike glanced over. 'Bit dark for reading, innit?'
Nate smiled. 'You're going to read to me, and I'll try and help you interpret
the passages.'
Spike sighed. 'How's about we just sit a while - enjoy the night.'
The man hesitated then shrugged. 'If you'd prefer. Perhaps you'll tell me what's
bothering you. Perhaps we could pray together again. As I told you: God always
hears your prayers, Spike, however unworthy you may feel.'
Spike flicked his cigarette away and lit another then jumped up on the small
wall that ran around the roof. The man flinched but watched, despite his instinctive
fear. Spike paced around the wall, spinning at each corner, marching as if he
were trying to outpace something.
Nate got tired of watching the display after the tenth circuit and stretched
out, folding his hands under his head, watching the sky lighten instead. Streaks
of gold and salmon pink began to glow around the edges of the cloud, and he
suddenly sat up and said with some alarm, 'Hey! Time for you to be inside.'
Spike pouted and sat on the wall. He looked over at the man. 'Nah. I think I'll
stay up here. I'm tired, and I think this is the best way.'
Nate stood up and came closer. 'Spike….'
'Let me be. Please. I've done enough, and now I want to rest.' He shut his eyes
and turned his face to the east.
The man's face clouded over. 'How dare you! How many times do you think I've
heard this kind of arrogance from men before? This is as bad a sin as you've
ever committed, Spike! God gave you this life; only he has the right to take
it away!'
Spike opened his eyes and stared at the priest. It seemed to him then as if
he moved out of time: all motion becoming slow and languid around him.
He opened his mouth to speak, and it took a whole revolution of the earth before
the words emerged. 'No. Angel gave me this life. God had nothing to do with
it.'
For the first time, Spike saw a crack appear in the priest's certainties, for
his gaze dropped, and he said, 'Your circumstances are unique - I don't deny
that. The Bible was not written for you, of course, but….' He heard his fatal
error as clearly as Spike did. To give the human his due, he didn't attempt
to bluff his way any further. He just straightened and watched the edifice of
fear and confusion that he had so successfully constructed around this unique
soul crumble away.
Spike got to his feet and looked out at the approaching dawn. 'It's time all
good vampires were abed.'
'Don't do this, Spike. You don't know what you are….'
'The only thing I don't know is how I am going to make this up to him - I only
have eternity. Oh, and that's not eternity on some white cloud singing fucking
praises, Mate; that's eternity in Angel's body - an eternity of sucking and
fucking. Cus that's something you'll never understand: love like ours transcends
any of your soddin' cant. Hell, you're too afraid to even test your own commitment
to God with a good shag.'
He felt his skin beginning to burn, and for the first time since Lilah had dragged
him into that torture chamber, he didn't feel overwhelming fear at the sensation.
He felt nothing more than a vampire's instinctive need to be underground. He
shook himself, tipped his head back to the faint rays and shouted, 'I'm an animal,
and I'm gonna fucking live forever!' He raised an eyebrow at the priest and
dropped out of sight off the roof.
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