|
NOTE:
Parts of this chapter are from Liam's perspective. It's not hard to figure out which parts or anything, I'm only mentioning it because it's the only chapter in the entire story that has anything from his POV, so I figured it'd throw some of you off if you didn't know going in. For those of you wondering where Angel's headspace is with this whole thing, here's your chance. *g* |
In better spirits than he had been in days, Liam stood in front of the stove making himself some eggs. He heard the front door open and shut, then heard the familiar sound of keys dropping onto the table by the door, cluing him in it was Lindsey and not their maid. She always tucked hers away in her pocket.
Liam tensed, wondering what he should say to Lindsey about all this. He hadn't exactly been himself the last few days, so they had yet to sit down and talk. The fact was, he didn't have a clue what to say. Sorry didn't feel quite right because if he was honest, he wasn't sorry he'd pursued Spike. He was sorry he hurt Lindsey, though.
"Hey Dad," Lindsey said, walking into the room.
Liam swallowed and glanced over at him. It was wrong, this feeling of getting caught with his hand in the cookie jar every time he looked at Lindsey now. It felt like their roles had been reversed and he was the rebelling child waiting to be forgiven for his latest transgression.
"Hi," Liam said, trying to sound casual. "Want some eggs while I've got the pan heated?"
Lindsey glanced around as if looking for someone -- probably Spike -- and shook his head. "No thanks. Ate breakfast with Darla."
Nodding, Liam turned off the heat and slid his sunny side up eggs onto a plate. "Spike's not here. His dad called. Wanted to take him out to breakfast before work."
"Oh," Lindsey said, turning to lean against the counter.
Liam glanced over and noted Lindsey had his arms crossed and a determined look on his face. Shit. Looked like Liam's time was up for figuring out what he was going to say to him about the whole thing.
Their eyes met and Liam had to fight not to flinch at the hurt and angry look in Lindsey's.
"Look, Lindsey," Liam started, "I'm sorry--"
"If you're going to apologize for getting involved with Spike, don't bother," Lindsey interrupted. "I don't want to hear it, and I wouldn't believe it anyway."
Liam set down his eggs and leaned his hip against the counter, facing Lindsey. "I wasn't going to apologize for getting involved with him. I'm not sorry about that. I am sorry it hurt you, though. I know you…care about him."
Lindsey studied him for a minute, then nodded his head. "Yeah. You did hurt me. And yeah, I do care about him. I'm guessing you've figured out as more than a friend." Liam nodded and Lindsey went on, "I know I'm the one who got him over here to talk to you, but I only did that because he was hurting. A lot. And so were you. The truth is, though, I don't know when or if I'm going to be able to accept or understand this, Dad." Liam tensed, but Lindsey continued before he could say anything. "Not because I have feelings for him. I just…." Lindsey trailed off, his expression frustrated for a moment before he said, "Shit. Every time I think about the two of you, I see those bruises all over him. How can you do that to someone you love? And I'm assuming you love him or you wouldn't have created this mess."
"Yes, I love him," Liam said, then paused, trying to figure out how to explain the kind of relationship he and Spike had. Finally, he said, "As for the rest, I don't think any explanation I could give you would make any difference. It's going to bother you no matter what I say, isn't it?"
Lindsey stared at him for a moment, then sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, probably. Spike's tried now a few times and I still don't get it. Maybe I'm just too close to it. Don't think I'd be having this problem if it was…Oz and someone else."
"Probably not," Liam said, impressed once again with the man Lindsey was becoming since high school. He'd gone through a pretty rough period after his mom had died and there had been times Liam hadn't been sure Lindsey would come out the other side alright. He had a feeling he had Spike to thank for Lindsey pulling himself together. Yet another reason Liam loved him. Ironically, it was also one of the reasons Lindsey had feelings for Spike, no doubt.
Lindsey was silent for a moment and Liam started to think that was it, the conversation was over for now, but then Lindsey spoke again. "So, given the fact that you love him and he loves you and the two of you nearly imploded when you were only separated for a few days, how the hell are you both going to handle being apart for a year?"
Liam tensed, feeling like he always did at the thought of Spike leaving, like he was being gutted by a dagger. "I…don't know."
Lindsey stared hard at him, his voice reflecting his expression. "I hope that doesn't mean you're going to try to talk him out of leaving." Liam started to reply, but Lindsey continued on, not giving him a chance. "Because he's wanted to do this for as long as I've known him. He talks about going back to London for a year and gets this…far away look on his face. It's important to him, Dad."
Liam swallowed. He'd already suspected it wasn't just a whim, Spike wanting to go abroad for a year, but hearing it made it more real. "I know," he finally said.
Lindsey nodded. "Good, then I hope that means you'll do the right thing about it, because I have a feeling that as much and as long as he's wanted to do this, he'd give it all up in a minute for you." Liam's stomach fluttered at the thought. "But if you truly love him," Lindsey added, "then you'll realize how wrong it would be to let him do that."
And there was the irony of the whole thing. Liam did love Spike. He was self-aware enough to know that there wasn't only love, there was an obsession there -- at least on his part -- and the obsession demanded that he keep Spike, hold onto him and never let him go. Order him to drop the program abroad and stay here. But the love he felt for Spike demanded something different. It demanded he let Spike go. It insisted that he didn't have a right to screw with Spike's future that way.
Liam sighed and ran a hand through hair Spike had mussed up that morning when they'd fooled around a little before saying goodbye. "Yeah, I do. I haven't tried to get him to stay, Lindsey. And I won't. I know you're right."
Lindsey's shoulders relaxed slightly, even as he said, "Not trying to get him to stay isn't enough. Let him go, Dad. Even if he offers to stay."
Without waiting for a response, Lindsey pushed away from the counter and walked out of the room, leaving Liam to stare at the spot he'd vacated, stomach twisting at the thought of losing Spike, his appetite for the eggs cooling on the counter long gone.
Spike stepped out of the shower to the sound of the landline ringing Tuesday afternoon. Knowing his dad was at work and therefore wasn't around to answer it, he wrapped a towel around his waist to stop from dripping everywhere and grabbed a second one to scrub at his hair as he walked out of the bathroom and over to his nightstand to answer it. His mobile was sitting next to it and as Spike picked up the cordless, he noticed the display on his mobile said he'd missed several calls. Bugger. This was probably Angel, then.
"'Lo?"
"You weren't answering your cell."
"Sorry. Was in the shower."
"I can see that," Angel replied.
Spike sucked in a sharp breath and turned toward his window, looking out, wishing he could see Angel too. "Watching me, then?"
"Yes."
Spike felt his groin tighten and dropped the towel he was holding to his head to the floor. Reaching for his chest, he pinched one of his nipples and dropped his voice a notch as he asked, "Like what you see?"
"Fuck. Yes," Angel answered, voice husky.
Spike's hand dropped to his waist, his thumb hooking in his towel where it was tucked over. "Want to see more?"
"Yes," Angel said.
Spike arched an eyebrow. "What are you going to give me for it?"
There was the briefest pause, then, "You're bargaining with me? I could just order you to do what I want."
Spike grinned. "Could, but my way might be interesting." Spike was almost sure he heard a choked off moan. Emboldened by Angel's reaction and the knowledge that Angel hadn't, in fact, ordered him to do anything yet -- which meant he was considering playing Spike's game -- Spike asked, "Want to hear my terms?"
"Go ahead," Angel replied.
"Right," Spike said, hand dropping to his groin. He squeezed himself through the towel and said, "You play peeping tom while I give you a show. Catch is, I put my plug in and turn it on, then wank off for ten minutes. I manage not to come, I get to shag you. No restraints, no orders, just you on your back, spread under me, taking it and loving it."
Angel cursed, then cleared his throat. "And if you do come?"
"You get to put me in that chastity belt the way I know you've been wanting to, for say…three days, and make me beg you to fuck me like that daily."
"I could make you do all that anyway," Angel countered.
Spike nodded. "True, but wouldn't it be fun to win it?"
"Fifteen minutes, and you put it on speakerphone so I can tell you what to do. And the chastity belt stays on a week."
Spike bit his bottom lip. With how turned on he already was, ten was going to be pushing it. Not to mention a week in a chastity belt sounded like an eternity. Still…the chance to get to fuck Angel on his terms, just once, was too good for Spike to pass up. "Deal."
"Deal," Angel said in return. "Put the speaker on, get the plug and lube, then bend over the bed, facing away from the window."
Spike licked his lips. "Yes, Angel."
After he'd done what he was told and was in position, Angel said, "Spread yourself and finger fuck your ass."
Spike did so, lubing up the fingers of one hand first. He shoved one, then two, then three in, moaning and pushing back on himself shamelessly.
"Yeah, that's it. Such a good slut. Put the plug in and fuck yourself with it."
Spike yanked his fingers free and blindly grabbed for his plug, slicking it up before he pressed it to his pucker and pushed. When it was almost in, he pulled it back out, then did the same thing again, gasping as the curved end rubbed over his prostate.
After a couple of minutes, Angel said, "Shove it all the way in and turn the vibrate on high."
Spike groaned and did as ordered, bucking forward as the vibrations started.
"Get on the bed on your back and spread yourself so I can see everything, then start jacking off."
"Yes, Angel," Spike said.
He did so and before long he was lifting his hips to meet the down strokes of his hand, his other hand clutching at the bedsheets, jaw clenched as he fought to keep himself under control. Every time he tried to slow down, give himself a better chance of winning, Angel ordered him to speed up again. Sadistic bastard.
"Massage your balls with your other hand," Angel said, sounding slightly breathless over the speaker.
Spike bit his bottom lip and did so, moaning and bucking up harder into his fist.
"You've got six minutes left. Still think you can make it?" Angel asked, sounding smug.
Spike gasped as precome began leaking from his cock. "Know I can."
"That sure of yourself? Even knowing what you'll get if you win?" Angel asked.
Too far gone to catch on to the game Angel was playing now, Spike said, "'Specially knowing what I'll win."
"See, I don't think you've really thought it through, what you'll be getting. Me on my back, legs spread. Will you want them around your waist or over your shoulders?"
Spike gasped and jerked his hips up out of rhythm, Angel's words putting a picture in his head that was quickly wearing away the last thread of control he had over his body. "Over my shoulders. Wanna bend you in two, luv. Want you unable to do anything but lay there and take it."
Angel moaned on the other end, then said roughly, "You want me to be your bitch, is that it?"
"Fuck," Spike swore, the image driving him even closer to the edge. "Yes, Angel. Love being yours but, just one time…yes."
In a low voice that was pure sex, Angel asked, "Want me writhing and moaning under you? Want me to beg to be allowed to come?"
"Bloody hell," Spike said, desperate to come himself. He glanced at his clock. Two minutes. He just had to make it two more minutes.
So of course, Angel pulled out the really big guns. Voice silky smooth, Angel said, "Come, Spike. You know you want to. Do it because we both know as much as you might think you want a piece of my ass, what you really want is to do what you're told, don't you? You want to please me. Submit to me, Spike. Let go and you can come over here and I'll lock you in that belt myself, and then I'll fuck you until you can't see straight. Until you're begging and you don't know if you're begging for it to stop or for more of my cock."
Spike whimpered, balls tingling, starting to draw up. He started to pull them down, to stop them from rising, but Angel said, voice stern, "Don't you dare pull those down. Keep massaging them and keep jacking off fast and hard or the deal's off."
Spike cried out in desperation, blinking at the clock. One minute. One. Soddin'. Minute. That was all but it might as well have been an eternity. Unable to help himself, he thrust up into his fist, faster and faster, balls starting to draw up, and then, suddenly….
"Time," Angel said, voice sounding rough.
Spike immediately clamped down on the base of his cock and pulled his balls down mercilessly. No way was he coming now, not before he got over to Angel's flat and inside him. Breathing heavily, he laid there, unable to believe he'd done it, or what that meant he was going to get to do that night.
He was going to get to dominate Angel.
"Fuck," he said out loud, in between gasps for air. "I did it. I bloody did it. Holy shit."
Angel chuckled on the other end. "I'm impressed. Didn't think you'd make it."
Spike grinned as he finally released his hold on his cock and balls, then sobered. "Do you…. If you didn't think I'd make it, does that mean you don't want to…."
After a brief hesitation, Angel said, "I want to. Get dressed and get over here. I'll be waiting."
He hung up the phone and Spike laid there for a shell-shocked minute, still unable to believe what he'd be doing in just a short time. A harsh busy signal blasted from the speakerphone, bringing Spike back to himself. He jerked into action, hitting the off button and jumping up off the bed. His hair was half dried in ringlets, and he contemplated slicking it back, but since Angel seemed to have a kink for it curly, he decided to leave it. Quickly he found a pair of jeans and a shirt and pulled them and a pair of socks on, then grabbed his wallet and started for the front of his flat.
It was time to collect his reward.
Five minutes later, Spike knocked on Angel's door, anticipation thrumming through him at thoughts of the night ahead. He wondered briefly if he'd still be expected to strip right off, but then decided he would even if it wasn't expected. Somehow the thought of walking around the flat in his kit seemed…weird to him. He snorted. Hadn't been that long ago that the opposite had felt weird. Funny how fast some things could change.
Like his feelings about going off to uni.
He'd wanted to go abroad for this program for the past three years, ever since he'd first heard about it. He'd thought about it endlessly, of going back and spending a year in the city he'd been born in and lived in until he was twelve. He and his parents had come to the 'States to get his mum an experimental treatment for her cancer that wasn't available over there, all the conventional methods having failed. Things had seemed to be looking up for a bit. She'd even gone into remission for a year, but in the end, she'd died anyway. His dad hadn't been able to stomach the thought of moving back to England without her, so they'd stayed in America. Despite the close friendships he'd formed here, Spike had ached for home ever since.
But now…now he was finding the more time he spent with Angel, the more time he wanted to spend with him. Instead of being excited about moving back to London -- even if only for a year -- the thought of going off to uni in less than two weeks made Spike physically ill. So much so that he'd come to the decision that he wasn't going abroad, whether or not it was too late to register for classes there in Manhattan. If nothing else, he'd take a year off and start next fall.
Spike had been waiting for the right time to tell Angel, and something told him today was the day. He couldn't wait for Angel's reaction to the news. He'd probably get a bloody good shag out of it. The looming deadline had been hanging over their heads ever since things had started getting serious between them. Every time one of them would offhandedly mention something about the future, they'd both fall silent, remembering they didn't have a future past the first week of September. Now, with Spike's decision, that had all changed. They could make plans to their heart's content.
The door opened and Spike found himself yanked into the condo and shoved against the door as it slammed shut behind him. Angel's mouth descended on his and Spike moaned, melting back against the door as Angel pressed him into it. Angel's hands were everywhere at once, and Spike grunted and thrust against him, submitting instantly, despite winning a turn to do Angel.
Quickly he was stripped, Angel only pulling his mouth from Spike's long enough to get his jeans off him and his shirt over his head, and then Angel was back, pressing his fully clothed body against Spike's naked one, kissing him to distraction while he somehow managed to cuff and collar him at the same time.
When Angel's mouth finally left his, trailing kisses and bites over his jaw and down the side of his neck, Spike said, "Thought I was going to get to fuck you."
Angel bit a nipple, rolling it between his teeth, and Spike's head fell back to the door with a thud as he moaned and thrust his chest toward him for more. Against his skin, Angel said, "You are. This is just a reminder of your place here, boy." He kissed his way over to the other nipple and bit it, too. Spike gasped. "You'll get your reward, you'll get to fuck me, but I'm still the Dom, understand?"
What Spike understood was that Angel was -- shockingly -- nervous. Somehow, that only turned Spike on more.
Licking his lips, he said, "Know my place, Angel, and wouldn't have it any other way. I swear. Just had this fantasy…." Spike trailed off and chuckled. "Honestly? I didn't think I was going to win, either."
Angel straightened and they stared into each other's eyes for a moment. "Do you really want to do this, then?"
Spike hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. Do you?"
"I haven't bottomed -- truly bottomed -- to anyone in years, Spike," Angel said honestly.
Spike felt his stomach sink and looked away. "'S okay. I understand. Was just a silly fantasy anyway."
Angel's hand gripped his chin and forced his face back toward him, waiting until Spike met his gaze again to say, "You didn't let me finish. I want to tonight, with you."
Spike gasped, butterflies doing summersaults in his stomach. Straightening as Angel's hand fell away from his chin, Spike said, "Right, then. What are we waiting for?"
They walked into the bedroom and Spike stood in the middle of the room while Angel stripped for him. Once Angel was naked, Spike walked over and said, "On the bed on your back, pet."
Angel hesitated, then did as told, spreading his legs for Spike as Spike crawled onto the bed, hovering over him on his hands and knees. Spike stared down at him, heart beating in his ears at the strange feeling of being in charge, being out of his element. He'd taken charge with the girls he'd shagged in the past, but somehow…this felt radically different. Besides the difference in anatomy. Suddenly he wasn't so sure about it.
As if reading his mind, Angel reached up and cupped his cheek. "We don't have to do this."
Spike bit his bottom lip and said, "I want to, just…it's like suddenly being handed the keys to the kingdom, you know? Sounds good on the surface, but then you really get to thinking about it and it's a bit…overwhelming."
Angel smiled softly up at him. "I'm the kingdom, huh?"
Spike smiled back. "You're that and so much more, luv."
Angel's hand dropped from Spike's cheek to the collar at his neck. Fingering it, he said roughly, "Saying something like that…it makes me want to lock you up here, keep you as my sub permanently."
Spike sucked in a sharp breath and for a moment neither of them spoke, the statement hanging in the air between them. Heart pounding in his ears, Spike decided it was time to tell Angel about his decision. "What's stopping you?"
Spike felt Angel's body tense, even as Angel said, "The fact that in less than two weeks you're leaving for another continent."
Spike held Angel's gaze, excitement and nerves coiling inside him as he asked, "What if I wasn't?"
Angel didn't reply for several heartbeats as they stared at each other, then finally said, "I'd tell you that you were making a mistake."
And with that one sentence, Spike's entire world shattered into pieces. He'd been so sure Angel would be ecstatic about the idea of him sticking around, especially after what he'd just said. Spike hadn't once considered that he might not be.
Suddenly finding it hard to breathe, Spike pushed up off his hands and knelt back between Angel's legs. Angel pulled himself up and back, leaning against the headboard, one leg out straight, the other bent and lying on its side.
Suddenly feeling more naked and exposed than he had the first time he'd stripped while Angel remained fully clothed, Spike asked in a small voice, "You don't want me?"
Looking remorseful, Angel leaned forward, hand reaching out toward him, stopping short when Spike scrambled off the bed. Angel climbed off too and tried to reach out for him again, but Spike took a step back, keeping the distance between them.
Dropping his hand, Angel said, regret in his voice, "It's not that, Spike. I just…. It wouldn't work."
Spike swallowed. "Why not?"
Angel's expression went from remorseful to pinched, leaving Spike with the distinct impression that he really didn't want to be having this conversation. Truth be told, neither did Spike.
"Because you've got your whole life ahead of you, Spike. You need to reach out and grab it, not sit back and put it on hold, and we both know that's what you'd be doing. There's no way you could get the classes you want here in Manhattan at this late date. Besides, Lindsey told me you've wanted to go to England for this program for years now, and you're going to give it all up for what? One summer of great sex? Does that seem like a smart choice to you?"
Spike felt as if he'd been stabbed in the gut and every word that came out of Angel's mouth shoved the knife just a little deeper. He stared hard at Angel for a long moment, then asked quietly, "So, you expect me to believe that everything that's gone on between us these last months was just about sex, that it?"
Angel's expression hardened. "I expect you to be a man about this and see it for what it is."
An icy calm flowed over Spike then, numbing the hurt. Slowly, Spike reached up and undid his collar, letting it drop to the floor with a dull thud. Next came the wrist and ankle cuffs. All the while, he didn't take his eyes off Angel. He waited for Angel to say something, to stop him, but when he didn't, when Angel just stood there staring at him in stony silence, Spike turned and walked out of the bedroom, headed for his kit in the foyer. He quickly dressed, then reached for the door knob, intending to walk out without another word, but Angel's voice from behind him stopped Spike in his tracks.
"Spike," Angel said. Spike turned around and found Angel dressed in just his jeans, looking imploringly into his eyes. "It doesn't have to end this way. We have almost two weeks yet." Stepping forward, Angel cupped the side of Spike's face and Spike stole himself against the touch, refusing to lean into it the way he longed to. "Why can't we spend them together? Make the most of them?"
Reaching up, Spike covered Angel's hand with his and felt a moment of pain at the look of hope in Angel's eyes. Instead of pressing Angel's hand to him, though, Spike curled his fingers around it and pulled it away, then let go. Holding Angel's suddenly hurt-filled gaze, Spike said acidly, "Because I'm being a man, Angel. Seeing this for what it is. Seeing you for what you are, and what you are is a pathetic tosser who's too scared of his own feelings to accept what I was willing to offer."
Angel shook his head and said quietly, "That's not true. That's not why…."
He trailed off and tried to take a step toward Spike, but Spike held out his hand, pressing it against Angel's chest to stop him. "Don't. Just…don't. If you touch me right now, I'll stay and I'll resent you for it. You want to let me go, you can't have it both ways."
Angel hesitated, then backed up. "I'm sorry."
Spike turned away, opened the door and stepped out into the hall. He paused and turned back, meeting Angel's gaze one last time. "So am I."
Nothing left to say, Spike closed the door behind him, heart in his throat, and walked away from the man who'd helped him discover himself over the past few months, the man who'd opened up a whole new world to him…the man he'd fallen head over heels in love with and would never be with again.
Nearly two weeks after Spike walked out of Liam's life, he walked out of New York, out of the country…or more accurately, he flew out. In fact, Liam thought to himself as he glanced at the clock in the darkened living room for the millionth time that evening, Spike was probably somewhere over the Atlantic right then, on his way to his shiny new future, which didn't include a thirty-five-year-old video director.
Liam lifted his glass of scotch to his lips and drank it down. He set the glass down on the end table next to him and grabbed the partially empty bottle he'd opened a couple of hours ago, pouring himself more. He picked up the glass again and it was partway to his mouth when he heard the front door to the penthouse open, then close again.
For one insane moment, Liam allowed himself to hope, allowed himself to imagine it was Spike, coming to tell him that he'd seen through what he said, had seen that Liam loved him too much to let him stay just for him, but that he was staying anyway. The fantasy played out in Liam's head almost as if he could see it in front of him, could see himself rising up out of his chair and meeting Spike halfway across the room, pulling him into a hard, needy kiss, stripping him naked right there and taking him on the living room floor, reestablishing his claim over him.
And then Liam blinked and focused, and instead of Spike it was Lindsey standing in the doorway, his silhouette dark against the light spilling in from the hallway at his back, but distinguishable just the same.
For a moment, silence filled the penthouse, then Lindsey said, "He boarded the plane two hours ago. He's gone."
Liam nodded, swallowing past the lump in his throat. "That's…good."
Lindsey walked over and sat on the coffee table, facing Liam. He reached out and squeezed Liam's knee, waiting until Liam met his eyes to say, "It is good. You did the right thing, Dad."
"I know," Liam said softly.
Lindsey stayed where he was for another moment, then stood, dropping his hand onto Liam's shoulder. "I don't know if this will help or not, but he seemed happy. Excited about the trip, and college and his future."
Liam cleared his throat, willing his voice not to crack as he said, "It helps," even though right then it really didn't. It would in the future, Liam was almost sure, but just then it only made him hurt more.
Lindsey squeezed his shoulder and let go. A second later, an envelope dropped onto his lap. "Just before he boarded, he handed me this, asking me to give it to you. I'll leave you alone to read it. I've got packing to do anyway if I'm going to make my flight in the morning."
For a long time after Lindsey left the room, Liam sat in the dark staring at the envelope, the name 'Angel' written in Spike's handwriting staring back at him from the shadows of his lap. It wasn't until the early hours of the morning, long after the sounds from Lindsey's room had faded to nothing as he went to bed, long after Liam had stopped drinking the scotch, the half empty bottle sitting on the end table next to him, forgotten, that he finally reached down into his lap and picked up the envelope, holding it in his hands, running his fingers over his name.
Silently, he reached up beside him and turned the three-way lamp on the end table on low, then turned the envelope over, opening it up and pulling the letter out. Taking a deep breath, he unfolded it and read.
Angel,These last two weeks have been miserable for me. I missed you every second of every day. Every time my mobile vibrated, I hoped it would be you. Every time someone walked up behind me, I held my breath, half expecting your arm to slip around me, to pull me back against you. A million times I nearly gave in and came over to take you up on your offer to spend these last two weeks together, and a million times I stopped myself because I needed this time. I needed it to let myself be miserable, to let my heart break.
I'm off to start the new life you wanted me to now, and I'm leaving the misery and the heartbreak behind. I'll think about you over the next year, I'm sure, but when I do, I'll remember the good times. The times you took me places I never knew existed, showed me things I never knew I wanted or needed. I'll remember those times and I'll remember the times you just held me after, when you made me feel like I was the most important person in your world. I'll remember and I'll smile because you gave me so much, Angel.
But the most important thing you gave me was my freedom, and I want you to know that I see that, that I saw it even that day. You told me to be a man and see things for what they were, and I did. What I saw wasn't a pathetic tosser who was too scared of his own feelings to accept what I was willing to offer, like I said that day. I'm deeply sorry for that, Angel. I was hurt and I lashed out. What I saw, though, was a man who loved me enough to let me go, to let me do what I need to do to figure out what I want from my life. I'm not sure I'll ever be able to repay you for that, but someday I hope I have the chance.
Liam, I wish only the very best for you, and I expect you to do what you're expecting from me. Live your life. Enjoy it and take care of yourself, knowing there's someone out there who loves you to distraction, who loved you enough to let you go, too.
I'll never forget you,
William
As Liam read the letter, tears streamed silently down his face, continuing long after he was through. Unable to help himself, he read it over and over until finally -- eyes too heavy to keep open -- he drifted off to sleep, letter in hand, and dreamed about a bleached blond, blue-eyed boy who'd become a man in front of his very eyes.
Epilogue
|
NOTE:
Yeah. Don't hate me too much, but I just couldn't see this going any other way. One of the running themes throughout the story was that this was too much, too fast for Spike. He was in way over his head, but he was too drawn to Angel to be able to stop. It had to end somewhere, somehow, for reasons I hope are obvious. There were some of you that thought Angel should relocate to London for Spike, and yeah, he could have, but part of the reason he let Spike go was that Spike could have space and time to figure out what he wants/needs from his life. Angel following him to London would have made that impossible for Spike, considering how all-consuming their relationship was. That said, there's an epilogue for a reason. :-) |