Personal

by SpikesKat

Angel figured on having to grovel, fervently and frequently, when Spike woke after several hours’ sleep. He assumed Spike would stiffen and pull away, then commence with a verbal lashing that was sure to draw blood. Instead, Spike had no more than turned in Angel’s arms and shushed him with a single finger to his lips when he would have spoken. 

“Shhh…” 

“But—” Angel had to explain, or baring that, apologize. To let Spike know that what he’d done, the way he’d behaved, would never happen again. 

“It’s over, Angel. You’re back. That’s all that matters.” 

Then Spike removed his finger and nestled against Angel’s chest, closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep.  

As reactions went, it wasn’t what Angel expected. He’d never encountered a subdued Spike, and didn’t know what to do. For the longest time, Angel simply held Spike, comforting him with whispered words of reassurance and tender caresses when he was haunted by nightmares… or memories. 

And so it went for the remainder of the day and half the night. Spike was clearly exhausted, waking only long enough to gift Angel with a weary smile before drinking from the glass of blood held to his lips.

~*~*~*~*~ 

“I’m sorry.” Angel spoke the words before Spike could silence him. “I’m… Spike…” 

“Angel—”  

“No! What I did… how could you ever…?” Forgive me. 

“Demon, pet.” Seeing Angel’s moue of disgust, Spike added, “And, it wasn’t like I didn’t goad you into doing it.” 

“Why? I mean…”

“Couldn’t have you leaving me too,” Spike replied honestly, and there was a wealth of meaning in his words. “When you… I mean… you were there. You know?” 

“Oh, William…” Angel whispered as he hugged Spike close.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

“What are we doing here, Angelus?” Spike complained. 

“Just shut up and come on. And be quiet.” 

Spike rolled his eyes, but followed. When had he not? In the last twenty years, he was never far from Angel’s side – not even when Angel had gone all nostalgic and dragged him back to the place of Spike’s turning.  

In hindsight, though, Spike was glad he’d not complained too much. Especially not after Angel had dragged him into that oh-so-familiar alley and re-enacted the night, but with him playing the lead instead. Good times.  

“Angel,” he whined again, just because.  

“Shhh! Look!” 

Spike was going to object to the shushing, but he caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and the words died in his throat. 

Buffy and Dawn were walking down the sidewalk arm in arm. Two men, clearly their respective husbands, trailed after them.  

“Angel?” Spike was confused. He didn’t know that Angel had been trying to find Buffy. 

“Look at her, Spike.” 

He was looking. It was hard not to. She looked good, beautiful in fact. Time had been kind to the former slayer. Even the laugh lines around her eyes and mouth didn’t detract from her beauty. 

“Tell me what you see.”  

Spike glanced at Angel, and from the look on his face, he’d obviously asked the question more than once.  

“Well?” 

“I don’t know, Angel? What do you want me to say? She looks good. Happy.” 

“In love?” Angel prompted. 

Spike returned his attention to the Slayer. Narrowed his eyes as if that would help him see better.  

“I guess,” he finally allowed. Grudgingly. In truth, though, the Slayer practically glowed with it.  

“Now look at me.” 

Reluctantly, Spike did so.  

“What do you see?” 

Spike’s brow furrowed, his inability to understand what Angel wanted from him making him cranky. “Wot?” 

“I’m looking at you, Spike. Thinking about you.” He looked earnestly at Spike. “Tell me what you see.” 

It took a minute, but Spike finally got what Angel was trying to say, however convolutedly. But then, that was Angel for you.  

Big with the grand gestures, not so much with the words.  

“Alright. I get it, you git. You love me. Can we get out of here now?” 

The End

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