Spike stumbled none too gracefully into Angel's living room and said, "So, about that moving on bit," as if that particular conversation hadn't ended over three hours ago in Angel's office, after their singularly unsuccessful venture to Italy.
Angel looked up from the papers in his lap to find Spike near the doorway, reeking of alcohol, obviously inebriated. "Go home Spike. I'm too tired to get into it again with you tonight."
Instead of leaving, Spike made his way through the room, unceremoniously plopping down on the couch next to Angel. "What's all that?" he asked, motioning to the papers.
Angel sighed, setting them aside. He hadn't been able to concentrate anyway. "Just work."
"Oh, so long as it's work," Spike replied solemnly.
Angel's brows scrunched together. "What does that mean?"
But Spike was already distracted, frowning up at Angel's hair. "What kind of gel is it you use on that great mop of a head, anyway?"
"Spike—" Angel started.
"Come on, Angel, we're colleagues now, old friends, best mates from way back," Spike said, patting Angel's knee. "You can tell me."
Angel pushed Spike's hand away and retorted irritably, "We aren't colleagues. You work for me, although I'm still not clear how that happened. We're not friends. And we were never best mates."
Spike, who had seemingly been looking everywhere but at Angel's face, finally locked gazes with him. Angel stole himself against the misery he saw there.
"You're right. We were a lot more than that, weren't we?" Spike asked, his voice rough.
Angel, as unwilling to talk about that part of his past with Spike as ever, stood abruptly and walked over to look out of his window at the city beyond.
Spike stared at his stiff, unyielding back, then nodded to himself, as if confirming something. "Right then. Better to pretend it never happened than admit we ever meant anything to each other. Got it."
Angel, arms crossed over his chest, turned his head toward the room just enough to see Spike out of the corner of his eye. "Spike, don't. It was a long time ago."
Spike's gaze dropped to his lap and he picked at the hem of his duster as he stiffly agreed. "Yeah. Long time ago. Seemed that way anyway…'til tonight. Brought up a lot of memories, tonight did."
Angel turned back to the window, jaw clenched. The truth was, tonight in Italy had brought back a lot of memories for him too. Not just of their time together there either, but of their time together before the soul, period. Long nights killing and drinking, and longer days sucking and fucking.
Quietly, Angel agreed, "Yeah."
At that, Spike's eyes darted up, a hint of hope bubbling up inside, but then he remembered who he was talking to and dropped his gaze again, the hope fizzling out just as quickly as it had arose. Summoning up a bit of Dutch courage, which had been the whole point of getting right pissed before tracking Angel down, Spike got up and made his way slowly over to where the older vampire stood.
Even though Spike was standing side by side with him, Angel knew he wasn't looking out the window, despite Spike's lack of reflection to tell him so, because Angel could feel the younger vampire staring right at him.
When Angel couldn't take the unnerving scrutiny any longer, he clenched his jaw and asked, "What?"
"I just…I need to know, Angel."
The catch in Spike's voice made Angel turn to look at him. "Need to know what?"
"Why…."
When Spike trailed off and just looked at him with that kicked puppy expression he had perfected more than a century ago, Angel felt a twinge of…something…inside that made him uncomfortable, which made his temper flair again. "Spike, spit it out."
For reasons unknown to Angel, that caused Spike to laugh. A dark laugh that wasn't really a laugh at all, more like a prelude to a sob. Before it could get that far, Spike clamped his mouth shut and looked up at Angel again.
Unable to resist in his intoxicated state, Spike reached up and brushed his fingers over Angel's jaw line and down the side of his neck and Angel allowed it, something they both knew wouldn't have happened as recently as yesterday. Of course, yesterday Spike would never have touched him the way he was right then either, so it was a moot point, really.
Just when Angel started to wonder if Spike would ever get to the point, and if he even wanted him to anyway, the younger vampire asked softly, "Why did you leave me, Angel?"
Angel jerked away from Spike's touch as if it suddenly burned and walked over to the bar that stood at one end of the room. Busying himself with pouring a drink, he said, "I'm not going to talk about this with you."
Spike laughed again, the same humorless, dark laugh as before. "Who are you going to talk about it with? Lorne? Wesley?" After a short pause, he added quietly, "Buffy?"
Angel turned to him, drink forgotten, and glared. "Don't bring her into this. We agreed we were moving on."
Spike crossed to the wet bar and poured himself a drink, then turned and met Angel's eyes. "Right. Moving on. That's what 'm trying to do. Only, you're not helping matters."
Frustrated with the entire day in general, and the bleached blond drunk vampire in his living room in particular, Angel threw up his hands and said, "Okay, I'll bite. How am I keeping you from getting over Buffy?"
Spike crossed to the couch, sat back down on it and smiled sadly. "It's not Buffy I'm trying to get over, luv. Came to terms with that weeks ago, I did. Still care for her, but…." Spike trailed off with a shrug.
It was then Angel got it, because Spike hadn't called him 'luv' in over a century. Wearily, he started, "Spike, it was a long time ago—"
"So you keep saying," Spike interrupted, tone biting.
Angel continued as if he hadn't. "—a life time ago…several actually. What is there to get past?"
"How about how you left me? Just…abandoned me. Over twenty years together, and you walked out without a word. Not even a sodding note. You found me, killed me, made me over in your image… used me, then, when you were tired of it all, you left me. With Darla no less, who was in a right rage over it and took it out on me, ta ever so much, and Dru, who can't feel compassion for a bird, let alone an abandoned childe."
Angel didn't know what to say to that, so he stood there, frozen for a full minute, before admitting, "I didn't." At Spike's questioning look, he went on, "Use you. I didn't."
Spike snorted and took a drink. "What would you call it then? Payment for all the things you taught me? All the ways to play with the food?" The sarcasm in Spike's voice could have been cut with a knife.
Angel turned away and took a long drink, refilled his glass, then took another one, needing a little Dutch courage himself. After draining his third glass in a row, Angel said against the lip of it, so quietly he wasn't even sure Spike would hear it, "Love. I'd call it…love."
Apparently, Spike did hear it though, because the next instant, Angel had to duck to avoid sharp pieces of glass that were flying at him. Straightening again, Angel stared at the spot on the wall inches from his head where Spike's glass had hit. Furiously, he slammed down his own glass and whipped around to face Spike, who was on his feet in front of the couch, fists at his sides, sucking in deep lungfuls of air as if he actually needed them.
"Love, Angel? You call deserting me love? I call it being a fucking coward, that's what I call it. Couldn't deal with being all soul-having, could you? Had to slink off into some dark corner and sulk for a century. Didn't give a damn about how I felt, did you?"
Angel's anger dissolved at the look of betrayal on Spike's face. He shook his head in denial. "I…I didn't think you'd want me after…Darla didn't. She hated me because of the soul. Drusilla didn't understand it, she kept looking at me like I had ripped her favorite doll apart. I just couldn't stand to see that same look in your eyes."
Spike turned away then, staring at a spot on the wall, fists clenching and unclenching, unable to decide whether to hit Angel or…well, hit Angel. He wanted to make the other vampire feel the pain he had felt for so long, but knew that was impossible. The old git didn't have a clue, obviously.
Angel watched Spike silently for a moment, then walked over, coming to stand next to him. Staring at Spike's tense profile, he admitted, "You're right, I was a coward." When Spike turned his head to look up at him, Angel went on, "I knew you would leave me eventually, so I just…left first."
Neither of them said anything for so long that the silence began to close in on them both. Finally, Spike just turned and walked away, as if that was the end, as if that was what he had needed to hear to close the book on that part of his unlife. Angel watched him go, something dying inside all over again, just like it had the night he had left Spike, sated and sleeping, all those years ago. Angel didn't take his eyes off him as Spike crossed to the door, yanked it open, then paused in the doorway.
Just before walking out, Spike turned back, looked directly into his eyes and said with a conviction so fierce Angel knew without a doubt that it was the absolute truth, "I would have stayed."
~ Finis