Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Angel/Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Character/Pairing: Spike/Angel, Gunn/Fred, Wes/Fred, Lorne
Rating: Soft R/M
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike: Fireworks and prompt_in_a_box: Curse
Word Count: 2,926
Date Written: 22 November 2016
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.
"Have y'all noticed th' fireworks between those two?" Fred asks, her Southern accent thick, as she, Gunn, and Wesley all release collective breaths.
Gunn glances from his girlfriend to the door through which the two quarreling Vampires just passed. They may be headed to save lives -- again --, but they had all been considering that a life might very well be taken before they ever left. He shakes his head slowly. "No way, babe," he answers, looking back at her. "You've gotta be wrong about those two."
Fred giggles, pink tingeing her cheeks. "That would be a first," she counters.
"It might be," he says, drawing her into his arms, "but somebody once said there's a first for everything."
"Ah'm telling you," Fred insists, crinkling her nose up at him, an action he and another in the room both find adorable. "Th' next edition o' Dead Man Dating is so totally going to be slash. Angel an' Spike have done it before, an' they're going to do it again."
Wesley turns slightly from them and begins feverishly cleaning his glasses. "Surely you two can not be suggesting what it sounds as though you are suggesting."
"Why not, sweetcheeks?" Lorne, the only one of the four not to be disturbed by the fury radiating between the two Vampires, finally speaks up. "You saw that fury between them. I'm telling you, it's going to be something beautiful before daylight."
"It will be something 'beautiful'," Wesley returns, "if they do not slay each other before they return home in the morning."
"Don't look for them in the morning," the green Demon advises with a wide and sparkling grin. "That's way too early for them to get back with everything they've got planned."
"What do you think they have planned?" Fred asks, suddenly seeming to be breathless.
Lorne's red eyes glitter with his intent. "Oh, you know, brown eyes. You were on the right page with your idea for your latest story. They're going to fight, shag, fight, then shag some more. They may be back tomorrow evening at the earliest. What?" Lorne asks as all three of the others stare openly at him. "Don't tell me you thought I didn't know you're Brown Eyed Texan on LiveJournal."
Wesley's gaze darts between the two as Fred's blush deepens. "What are you talking about?" he demands and then feels another pang of jealousy as Gunn grins and winks at him.
"If she wanted you to know," says the man who got the right to be Fred's boyfriend before he could make his affections known to her, "she'd tell you."
"Charles!" Fred admonishes.
He shrugs. "Well, you would, baby," he counters, drawing an arm back around her lithe shoulders.
"Ah . . . " Fred's blush turns crimson as her eyes drop shyly from Wesley's. "Ah kinda write."
"Write what?" Wesley ponders, still not following the conversation from which he's determined not to be left out.
"Stories. Ah . . . Ah kinda give Angel th' happy endings he should have. Ah gave him one wit' Cordy an' one wit' Buffy, an' th' next one's going to be with Spike." As she admits the last, her eyes finally lift back to his.
For a moment, Wesley just stares into those big, beautiful eyes, but then he turns his head away and begins to gather his belongings. "If that is what makes you happy," he suggests stiffly, still without looking back at her, "then you should write it, no matter how preposterous it is."
"Wes -- "
"No. No. I wish you happy tellings." He glances up at Fred still encircled possessively by Gunn's arms and tries not to allow his true feelings to show. "I wish you all happy stories." He slips out of the office and pauses just on the other side of Angel's door. He looks left and right and left again down the long hallway before continuing his own journey, knowing, in his heart, that the woman to whom his own story leads him will never give him a happy ending. His happy ending, as far as he can see, is behind him and wrapped in another man's arms.
"What took you so long?" Angel demands as Spike catches up to him. "Did you get it?"
"I did," the blonde Vampire returns, swinging the broad axe in a perfect arc between them. "Although I still think you left it on purpose, Nancy."
"I waited for you, didn't I?"
"Doesn't look like it." Spike's dark eyes dart to the beheaded body a few feet behind them.
Angel shrugs. "He caught up to me first. What did you want me to do? Let him run ahead of us and warn them we're coming?"
"It's not going to be much of a fight. Wouldn't be even if they were warned." Spike smirks confidently. "We've got this mission in the bag."
"You don't know the Demon gangs in LA like I do," Angel warns him yet again. "Do not underestimate them. What they lack in brutal strength they make up for in cunning. This race has been around a long time, and they've been thriving on the human body parts black market since before California was a state."
"So you've told me," Spike reminds him, "again and again. They're cunning. They're smart. They've got resources that make them formidable opponents which, along with their claws, is why they've killed so many Slayers and hunters in the past. Yadda, yadda, yadda. I don't care how smart they are, Poof, or how many they've killed. They haven't met us before."
Angel growls. "They kicked my -- "
"You were alone," Spike cuts him off, "and they took you by surprise. That's the only reason they managed to take that girl. But that ends tonight."
"I'm telling you don't be so damn cocky," Angel snarls. "It'll -- "
"It's not going to get me killed," Spike insists with a roll of his eyes. "I've been around for two hundred years."
Spike continues as though he hasn't heard him, "I've killed two Slayers and survived a crap load more. I've saved the world -- "
"You've helped save the world."
"That necklace was meant for me, and you know it."
"It should've been me."
"Why?" Spike suddenly demands, surrendering to his anger that's been building all night. "Why do you always have to be the sodding hero? Why do you have to be the one who gives up everything to save the day? Why can't you see that another Vampire -- another man -- might be the hero?" Having already dropped the axe, he slams Angel against the wall of the sewer, his hand closing around the older Vamp's throat. "Why," he demands, his own eyes blazing and fangs bared, "do you always have to act like I can't measure up to you? Maybe you're the one who needs to measure up to me!"
Angel shoves against him, but Spike won't let go. They roll against the wall, Angel slamming Spike against the concrete this time and placing a hand against his throat, although Spike's still got a grip on his. "Maybe I don't want to see you die a fool's death!" he snarls. "Maybe I don't want you making the same mistakes I make, the same ones that have haunted me ever since I got a damn soul!"
"Don't make it sound like you got it for yourself!" Spike exclaims, clenching Angel's throat in his hand. "You didn't go out for your soul! You didn't go get it to become a better man! You didn't go through all the bloody trials that I did, all the suffering that I -- "
"Oh, I suffered all right!" Angel snarls back. "I suffered every moment after I was cursed with my damn soul, and you're right! I didn't go get it for myself, but you didn't go get it for yourself either! We both know you didn't have one damn idea what you were getting yourself into when you first went to that Shaman!"
"I wanted to be a better man! I didn't know it meant I had to have a bloody soul! But at least I was trying to be better!"
"I've tried to be a better man for over a hundred years, and look at where it's got me!"
"But you didn't try until you got cursed with a soul! If it wasn't for the Gypsies, you'd still be evil! You'd still be Angelus! You'd still be fucking us all every night and ripping through this world with bloodshed unlike any Vampire before you but not after you!"
"That's it, isn't it?" Angel asks quietly, suddenly releasing his hold on Spike's throat.
"What's it?" Spike growls, his yellowed eyes still narrowed into dangerous slits.
"You say I'm trying to measure you up to me, but that's not it! You're still trying to measure up to me!"
"Like fuck I am!"
"That's why you wanted Buffy! That's why you wanted a soul! That's why -- "
"Keep dreaming, Pops! I'm a better Vampire -- a better man -- than you'll ever be, and I didn't have to be cursed to get this way! I loved even when I was a Demon!" And Angelus had torn his heart apart. Still, though, Spike doesn't admit to that. Instead, he reminds him, "That's why I helped the Slayer save the world even before I got my soul back. It's how I fell in love," he whispers quietly, almost admitting the truth but still not quite. "I couldn't bear to lose Dru."
"But you did lose her, and you lost Buffy! You lost everything!"
"But I'm still here!"
"Why is that exactly?" Angel asks softly, examining him as though he's looking at him through new eyes.
Before Spike can give him an answer that won't admit too much of his true feelings, screams split the air. They're not the high pitched screams of damsels in distress or other humans needing their help. They're screams of anguish and fury, warning them of the attack a split second before the group of Demons with hard scales for flesh drops down on top of them.
Angel and Spike whirl, at once going from battling each other to standing together against their foes. Angel dashes out, kicks the end of the broad axe's handle up into the air, and jumps back against Spike's back. Spike catches the axe's handle and slices three heads off of their opponents in a single, fluid motion. The Vampires don't even notice the crimson blood and sticky, green ooze that coats them as the three Demons fall to the muck in the sewer.
Staying back to back and fighting faster than any human eye could ever see, the two partners make short work of the group. They know there are many more Demons than this one group, who must have been sent to check on their comrade who Angel had dispatched earlier, but right now, they're not studying the others. They're concentrating on their current opponents while their minds and hearts whirl with the knowledge of things that had almost been said -- almost been said but not quite. They're both determined to never tell the other how they truly feel, just as they're determined to always have the upper hand.
A Demon gets lucky as he sneaks pass their double guard. Angel and Spike are both fighting another when the Demon's long and razor sharp claws slice into Spike's side, peeling away skin and into bone as though Spike's body is nothing stronger than paper. "I TOLD YOU NOT TO LET THEM TOUCH YOU!" Angel roars at Spike as he swipes his sword through the very middle of the Demon on which he'd been concentrating when the other one made his move.
"IT WASN'T LIKE I PLANNED IT!" Spike bellows back as he chops off another head. He turns on the Demon who hurt him and aims the broad axe at him -- all while trying to ignore the burning pain in his side --, but before he can make his move, Angel splits the Demon in two.
The Demon's blood is just beginning to spill when Angel, already having sheathed his sword, takes Spike into his arms. Gingerly, he touches his wound, his own stomach, and heart too, sickening at the sight of Spike's insides.
"It's worse than it looks," Spike grimaces, trying to pull out of Angel's hold.
"Be still," Angel growls, more frustrated now than angry.
Everything's quiet in the sewer as Spike touches Angel's cheek, bringing his eyes to his. "We've both had worse," he reminds him.
"I know, but -- "
"No buts." Spike smirks again. "We did the fighting. There's more to come, I know, but now I'm ready for the shagging."
Angel laughs and shakes his head in disbelief. "Only you would be thinking about shagging now," he remarks, trying ever so gently to piece together the two flaps of skin immediately outside Spike's deep wound.
"Hey," he shrugs, "it's what we do."
"Now you sound like a bloody commercial."
Spike's grin grows. "And you sound like me," he counters, his hand still on Angel's cheek. He lifts his other hand to the other side of Angel's face and turns him once more to look directly into his eyes. "But it is what we do," he reminds him gently. "It's what we always do. We fight, we shag, we fight others, we fuck again. It's us, Angel," he says, a cough forcing him to pause. "It always has been."
Angel shrugs as he stares into Spike's dark blue and imploring eyes until he feels himself beginning to melt. He tries to smirk like the blonde, but his lips end up lingering on a small smile instead. "You're right," he admits, leans down, and kisses him deeply.
Spike meets him immediately, his lips surging up against his and his tongue sliding into Angel's mouth where they both know it belongs. Their duel this time isn't fierce at all; it's sweet and smooth and what they both dream of though neither will ever admit it. They're not rough this time. They're not rough at all. They make love gently, slowly like they've never done before.
It's never been long between shags for them, but it's always been rough. There's always been one of them trying to prove something to the other or at least trying to dominate the other, but tonight isn't about power or anger or domination. It's about all the things they haven't said, all the many, many things they've come close to saying but never will. It's about things they've missed while being away from each other and about things they're afraid they'll always miss if the other ever leaves or is too slow in battle. It's about all the things they've never said, all the emotions to which they've never admitted, and all the things they'll never say, no matter how long they're without each other or even if they end up having to say goodbye to each other one night.
It's about the truth that lays unspoken between them. It's about the truth that keeps them fighting for a better world, fighting to be better men despite being Vampires, and fighting over the same girl because neither wants to see her with them rather than having each other to share. It's about the love they have felt for one another since they were too evil to understand what it was that truly connected them and about the unspoken fact that neither of them can tolerate the thought of the world without the other, which is the true reason why they keep fighting night after night.
It's about the way they look at each other when the other, and no one else, is watching. It's about the way they want to be watched. It's about the need about which they never speak, the need to be with each other, the need not necessarily to best the other but to match and the desire to best simply so that the other one will be forced to acknowledge them. It's about the way Angel almost cradles Spike as he delves into him, one hand still ever so gently clasping his skin together over his wound. It's the way their unspoken love soars through their fingertips into each other as they match each other perfectly through their lips, their tongues, their hearts, and their very souls, which only they, out of all their kind, possess and for which they would know do nearly anything to keep not because they make them better than the others but because they give them the power to finally understand what, and who, they truly are.
As Spike's eyes drift closed much, much later with elation, Angel's still there, still cuddling him, still caressing him, still literally holding part of him together. With one hand still on Spike's wound, Angel uses his free hand to once again gently caress the blonde's handsome face as his blue eyes close. "We'll get them tomorrow," Angel whispers.
Spike smirks. "I know," he says as he slips into rest, his length still against Angel's and his soul content at last not with the knowledge that they'll get their revenge and kill the rest of this Demon horde tomorrow but rather, and far more important for them both, with the unspoken knowledge that he's more than noticed. He's more than Angel's match. He is his love, even if they never say the words, just as Angel is his and the reason he keeps fighting, and always will, for a better tomorrow and a better self.