Home | Spike Angel Fiction Index

For Printable Version, click here

Chapter 9

Angel ran out naked into the living room and roused the humans. 'Did you see him?'

Giles raised an eyebrow and murmured, 'Who and no and really, Angel- rather too much seeing you?'

'Billy's gone, and he's taken Spike.'

Giles immediately sobered. 'Bloody hell.'

The humans rose stiffly from their respective beds, and Wesley parted the drapes, glancing at his watch. 'Another hour before sunrise, and it's a very gloomy morning. Can you track him?'

Giles put his glasses on and said sadly, 'I would make an educated guess, and say he's heading straight for the nearest hallowed ground he can find.'

Angel's eyes widened. 'No. He wouldn't.'

'Angel, grow up. To be the one you lead to bed every night? Good grief, men have sacrificed a lot more for a lot less.'

Angel blushed, as much as his unnatural body would allow, and turned, going back into his room to dress.

Wesley was consulting Cordelia's maps of L.A. when he came back in.

He snatched the map, Angel grabbed the keys, and they piled out of the apartment. Angel was about to head to the car, when he stopped and tipped his head to one side.

'Can you smell him?'

Angel shook his head. 'I can hear… Spike.' He started to run.

The humans followed as best they could. Giles panted out, 'These lawyers. Could they have bugged the car, too? Maybe he's not gone. Maybe he's been… snatched.'

Wesley clenched his jaw and ran faster.

Angel followed the soft buzz that was Spike through the dark, rain-filled streets, until he skidded to a halt at the gates to a small, secluded cemetery.

He could make out a figure, indistinct in the gloom.

He ran in, but when the figure saw him, it held up a large stone over a flat tomb. Angel didn't need to look down to see that the amulet was lying there.


'Just bugger off, and let me do this thing, Poof.'

Angel swallowed deeply, a shiver of deep shock running through his body. 'Spike?'

Spike smiled. 'I have no idea how much longer I'll be able to control him, but for now, yeah.'

'What are you doing? I mean…. Why?'

'I told you, Angel, but as usual, you weren't listenin' to me; I'm tired of it all. You, me, you and me, you and not me. Whatever. I've got the chance now to give you what you've always wanted from me. So, I'm givin' it to ya.'

'What I've always wanted?'

'Yeah. Him. Me as I was. Me, before it all went so…. I bring his hand down and crush this bloody thing, and I'll be free, and you'll have him.'

Angel came a step closer, but slowly, so as not to spook him. 'Spike…?'

Spike's eyes narrowed. 'Hmm?'

'What do you want? You're going to go anyway; so, just for old time's sake, tell me: what do you want from me?'

Spike's eyes fixed unwaveringly on Angel. 'That you could work that out for yourself.'

He turned back to his task and picked the amulet up, showing it to Angel one last time. Then he raised the stone.

Suddenly, a sharp retort split the air, and chips flew off the tomb behind the blond figure. Spike cried out and staggered, blood immediately appearing on the top of his shoulder where the bullet had grazed on passing.

Angel snapped his head around to see Lilah pointing a gun unwaveringly on Spike from a few feet distant. She said in a low, commanding tone, 'Put the amulet down.'

Spike raised his injured arm once more to destroy it.

She fired again.

Angel couldn't reach her, but with all his preternatural strength and speed, he reached the man before the bullet contacted with his soft, human flesh.

It hit him first, therefore, smashing through his heart and tearing it to pieces. It left his body through a vast exit wound, spewing his blood like vomit into the air. It continued on through the amulet, shattering it into tiny fragments of blue-black crystal. Accompanied by Angel's blood and the shards of dark power, it finished its journey deep in the human's heart, where it fragmented and finally lay still.

Angel fell onto the man, his blood continuing to pour out of his heart, covering them both in its dark beauty.

Angel wavered in and out of consciousness for what seemed like a long time to him. He felt he ought not to be so weak- that, being eternal, he ought to rise from the ground and walk, like some long-prophesised God. He couldn't. He lay in the mud, feeling only pain. Then he was lying on something softer and drier, but there was still just pain, so he sank back into unconsciousness.

Still bathed in pain, the next time he surfaced, he cried out, 'Billy?' and heard reassuring murmurs, but not from the one he wanted.

He couldn't see very well for the pain, but on his next venture into consciousness, he tried to focus on Wesley's blurry outline hovering over him. 'Billy?'

Someone moved into his line of sight, and Angel tried to smile and hold out his hand. The figure pushed his hands deeply into his pockets, and then there was Wesley's face close, hushing him back into the peaceful place where there was no pain. Angel realised he'd seen nothing more than a ghost, summoned through his dark desire, and turned his head away.

He did not properly regain consciousness for three days. When he did, he sat up and swung his legs off the bed. Wesley immediately rose from where he appeared to have nested in an armchair and said in a voice that brooked no refusal. 'Lie down.'

Angel ignored him and stood up. 'He's dead?'

Wesley frowned, looked away, looked back, and then finally looked down.

Angel didn't look at him at all. He pushed past and went, with considerable difficulty, to the closet and pulled out some clothes. He sat on the bed and held them. 'Help me.'

Instead, Wesley sat down next to him. 'I'm sorry, Angel. But it's not….'

'The Bitch?'

'By the time we got there, she was gone.'

'Was he dead then, or did he…?'

'Yes, but that's what I'm trying….'

'I saw him here. Was that just the pain, or did I see a ghost, Wesley?'

'I'd make an educated guess, and say you saw Spike. He carried you back to the car and up here. Angel… my arm?'

Angel snatched his fingers off Wesley's bruised forearm. Wesley sighed. 'We don't know exactly what happened, except that there was an incredible mess of blood - mostly yours - and that damn crystal thing in splinters in Billy's chest cavity. We were helping you- naturally, we thought he was dead. Then he said "bugger" and stood up.'

'He's here now?'

Wesley swallowed nervously at Angel's tone and rose to put some distance between him and the vampire. 'Why don't you go back to bed, Angel? Give your body time to….'

Angel began to pull on the clothes, but with one side almost immobile still, he had to ask once more for help.

Wesley sighed and knelt to help pull the pants on for him.

'Is he here?'



'He left.'

'But I saw him! I thought he was Billy, and I called out to him!'

'Hmm. He left just after that, I think.'

'Left where?'

'He didn't say.'

'Wesley! You let him just GO!'

'What would you have me do, Angel? I've been a little preoccupied.'

'He was trying to smash the amulet!'

'I know. Don't blame him too much. By the end, he seemed very confused….'

'Not Billy! Spike! Spike was controlling him, and he was trying to leave Billy alive.'


'Does he have has soul? Wesley, is Spike souled?'

'Well, I never thought to ask. But the fact that he carried you all the way to the car, drove you here, insisted on patching you up himself, and then fed you from his own body- I'd say… yes?'

Angel rose and walked very stiffly to the hallway and, leaning on the wall, made it down the stairs.

'You can be such a fool sometimes, Angel! This is far too early to….'

'I once had my heart cut out, diced, and fed back to me while my other organs were being extracted through my anus. I'm okay.'

Swallowing the rise of bile in his throat, Wesley nodded and helped Angel to the kitchen.

Giles was at the table, reading a paper and sipping tea. He twisted his head around when they entered.

Angel said raggedly, 'You?'

'Hello! Well, I must say, I didn't expect to see you down so….'

'Do you know where Spike is?'

Giles frowned. 'No, sorry. I don't.'

Angel groaned and leant on the fridge.

Giles leant over and touched the back of his hand to a mug. 'But if he doesn't hurry, his tea'll go cold. Ah, there you are!'

Angel's head swivelled around theatrically slowly, as if he felt the earth might tilt if he moved more quickly. 'Spike!'

'You shouldn't be…. Bloody hell!' Spike caught Angel as the sickly-looking vampire's legs collapsed, propping him up so his head didn't hit the ground. The three of them got him to sitting; Spike cursed and hefted him onto his shoulder, cursing more colourfully at the considerable burden.

The next time Angel came round, he discovered that he was manacled to the bed. Spike was sitting in an armchair, reading.

'Where's the key?'

'In my pocket.'

'Let me go.'



'Two more days, an' I will. Wes's bringing some blood up in a min. Perk you up, like.'


'You can rant and rave all you bloody like. Key stays over 'ere- with me.'

'What happened? Are you…? How did…?'

'I don't know, Angel. But do you know what?' Spike looked up from his book. 'I'm going to bloody find out. So, you heal up real fast so I can get away from you and this soddin' place, and go find out why the universe chose to have a fuck-yours-truly-around century.'

'Let me go; I'll stay in bed.'


'Fuck you!'

'No to that as well.'

That effectively silenced Angel for a while, although Spike could hear the occasional clanking of the chain fastened on Angel's wrist.

Wesley eventually appeared with some food but retreated quickly, as if he sensed Angel's powers of persuasion over him were too great.

Spike brought the blood over to the bed and stood just out of reach.

'I take it you're not so stupid as to spill this just to make a point?'

Angel shook his head. Spike sat down and held the mug for him.

Reacting angrily to the assistance, Angel snatched it from him, and a few drops did splash out, falling on Angel's pale chest.

Spike blinked at the tiny red trails, swallowed, but then retreated to his chair.

Angel took a sip then said raggedly, 'What happened to Billy?'

'I don't know, and I don't care.'

At the silence that followed this, Spike seemed to find it hard to concentrate. After a few moments, he glanced over at the bed. Angel was lying with his arm over his eyes, the blood neglected in his other hand. Spike sighed and went to sit back on the edge. 'What?'

'I killed him. I could have left him to his new life, but I drove him to his death.'

'Yeah. Right. And I walked him to it.'

Angel lifted his arm, frowning. Spike studied a nail then added, 'I marched his body there to give him his life. But it got 'im killed. Blew his bloody heart out, the Bitch!'

'You couldn't have known, Spike.'

'Did you know what would happen when you got involved with him?'

'Of course not. I thought it would help. I felt sorry for him that he couldn't remember….'

Spike rose, smirking. 'There ya go then! Stop being such a big girl's blouse, and eat yer damn food.'

Angel opened his mouth to argue but shut it with a snap. He sipped the blood, watching Spike through narrowed eyes.

'Are you going to just sit there?'


'You come back from… hell knows where, and you just sit there?'

'Saved the world, came back from hell knows where, and just gonna sit here- don't leave out the best bit.'

'Giles says Buffy wouldn't have left me to die….'

'Prob'ly true. She did ram a three-foot sword through yer gullet once, I seem to remember.'

'You were split because you weren't strong enough; the amulet was built for me.'

Spike smirked and turned a page. 'Yep, prob'ly would of 'eld all of you. Human me escaped cus I'm like that: sneaky, strong, clever.'

'Floating like a turd?'

'Sitting 'ere reading me book, while you're chained to the bed with a big 'ole where your stone-dead heart should be.'

'I become invulnerable if I lose my heart!'

'Nice girlie faint in the kitchen, Mate.'

'Fuck YOU!'

Spike bit his lip not to smirk again. 'No, thanks.'

'I didn't mean….'

'Yeah, you never do.' He stood up and stretched.

'Where are you going? You can't leave me here!'

Spike seemed to take great delight in putting his book down and taking slow, long steps to the door. When he got there, he turned as if surprised. 'Huh. Actually… I can!'

Angel woke up to find his wrist released and his arm laying comfortably on the mattress next to him. He sat up, about to climb out of bed, when Wesley came in, followed by Giles and Spike. Angel indicated the manacle, slightly bemused, and Spike snorted in amusement. 'Yeah. Like we'd keep you chained up for three days.'

Angel glared at him and pulled the sheet higher on his naked body. 'Why are you all…?'

Giles nodded. 'We thought we'd have a go at figuring out what we know and don't know- so to speak.' He sat down and balanced a notepad on his knee. He saw Spike's expression and said pointedly, 'Lists are important, Spike. They are the mark of civilised, organised people. As an educated Englishman - albeit one who takes delight in feigning the most ridiculous working-class accent - I would have thought you would appreciate the art of list making. Like tea, it's highly underrated.' He shuffled the pad, flourished a pen and continued, 'Right. I think on this column, we'll list things we know as fact, and on the other, we'll put conjecture- or further questions from those facts.' He looked up expectantly.

There was a silence, and then Wesley offered, 'Wolfram and Hart gave Angel the amulet and presumably….'

'Wait!' Giles began to write, 'Fact- Wolfram and Hart gives amulet to Angel. All right. Conjecture from that then?'

Wesley glanced over at Angel, wondering why he wasn't contributing, to find that Angel was staring fixedly at Spike. When he looked to Spike, Wesley found him staring uncomfortably at his nails, as if aware he was under scrutiny. He coughed softly and replied to Giles, 'In the short term, the gesture must have been exactly what it purported to be: a way to close the hellmouth.'

Giles tapped his pen against his mouth thoughtfully. 'It's hard to believe if it's an evil law firm, as you say, that they can have wanted to do good like that.'

Suddenly, Angel roused from his deep contemplation of Spike and said in a ragged voice, 'No. It's entropy: everything falls apart. It's what they showed me. This is hell, and we all want to rip and tear and destroy, and it's all blood in the end- blood and death.'

Giles shifted the pad uncomfortably on his knee and murmured, 'I'm not sure what to put that contribution down as.'

Spike muttered, 'Maybe… fact- don't trust Angel?'

Angel snapped his head up. 'Hey!'

Spike smirked and held his hands up in mock surrender. 'Just sayin', Mate. Just sayin'.'

Sensing an argument brewing, Giles continued pointedly, 'Right, well. I think we should add that destroying Angel must have been part of their plan. They'd know he couldn't resist playing the champion….'

The interjection was pitched at just the right level so everyone heard it like a thought in their minds. 'Got that wrong then.'

Giles ignored Spike's interruption but continued with a slight edge of annoyance, 'So, Angel trapped in the amulet, or Angel human- either way, vulnerable. Next fact?'

Wesley murmured, 'Angel was sent Spike's address.' It was only when an embarrassed silence fell after his words that Wesley looked around at his three companions.

He frowned, puzzled, until Spike said softly, 'Not mine.'

Wesley winced. 'No. Sorry. Actually, then, we ought to add something in before that- Billy's creation: planting him in that life, that job, altering memories around him. None of that a small task.'

Giles studied his list as if answers could be found there. 'The law firm?'

Angel murmured, 'Lilah implied not.'

Wesley nodded. 'The Powers? Put all this on the speculation column….'

Giles tutted and began to cross out neatly across his first column. 'It's most likely to be these Powers, no? I mean… it was a good thing…. He had a good life.'

Angel shifted uncomfortably and glanced at Spike. Spike was now staring out of the window, his jaw clenched impossibly tight.

When no one else would say it, Angel murmured, 'Except for the dreams. They weren't good.'

Wesley nodded once more. 'Put the existence of the dreams on the fact side, but put on the conjecture side that they could have been triggered by any of the players.'

Giles muttered to himself as he wrote. '"Players: Angel? Powers? Evil lawyers? Me? Spike?"'

Spike lifted an eyebrow, and Giles added, without writing it down, 'Your will, Spike. Your desire to be free. Your strength….'

Angel said petulantly, 'Make sure that's on the we're-only-freaking-guessing side then.'

Giles frowned warningly. 'So. You were sent his address?'


'All right. Fact. Speculation about that? Anyone?'

Spike chuckled. 'Yeah, I've got one: Billy was stuffed.'

Angel stood up angrily, realised he was naked and snatched up the sheet. 'Shut up.'

Spike sighed and said more gently, 'I think he was going down whatever you did, Mate. You were sent the address so you could watch it and… suffer… be helpless to prevent it- prevent me coming back.'

Wesley looked between them. 'That's a new possibility…. All this set up just to make Angel suffer.'

Giles began to write carefully, murmuring the words once more. '"Angel - suffering with Spike returning."'

Angel ran his fingers through his hair and put a hand out as if to stop him. 'No. I was suffering before I found the address- from when I gave the damn amulet to Buffy.'

Wesley suddenly animated. 'The two weeks you spent in bed! You said you had vampire flu!'

'I was…. It seemed….'

Spike was staring fixedly at Angel's lowered head, but then he shook himself slightly. Giles said brightly, 'So, perhaps this has been higher intervention to make Angel happier by bringing Spike back again?'

Both vampires said at the same time, 'Speculation column,' and then gave each other small, puzzled, but not unfriendly looks.

Giles finished writing and looked up. 'So. Next fact. Spike is back. Speculation? Wesley?'

'He's a champion? He's needed for the struggle ahead?'

Angel chuckled. 'Whole new column needed: When Hell Freezes Over.'

Spike suppressed a small quirk of his lips. 'I've got another suggestion why I'm back: tormenting me old sire.'

Angel laughed outright. 'Fact column.'

Spike gave him a small, shy look then sighed and said more dejectedly, 'Fact: no bloody idea why he's back or what he's gonna do for the rest of 'is stinking eternity.'

Giles laid down his pen. 'Time for tea, I think. That, is always fact.'

The two humans rose and went out together, chatting quietly. Spike got up and picked up the pad, sitting back down, studying it. 'What was the bitch called?'


Spike spoke slowly and wrote carefully in large letters across the top of the page, '"LILAH MORGAN SUFFERS."'

Caught up in the idea, Angel was too distracted to listen to a small warning bell that went off in his head. He nodded slowly. 'Wanna pay her a visit?'

Spike stood up. 'Well, about bloody time! Let's see some Angel spunk for once…. Okay, and you got I meant that in the English sense, yeah?' He ignored Angel's small smirk and added, 'Right, gotta go put on me fuck-Bitch demon leather.'

Angel didn't reply; Spike's comment had just made him notice, for the first time, that Spike was wearing old, faded jeans. A surge of memory rippled through him, surprising him with the backwash of grief it left. Spike turned around, and with a soft grunt, Angel saw the tear just under the right buttock.

At the grunt, Spike turned. 'What?'

Angel shook his head. 'Meet me in the lobby.' Spike looked puzzled but carried on to dress.

Angel felt something prick at his mind: something he was missing. With a curse, however, he shrugged it off; he had more pressing problems.

He dressed slowly then made his way downstairs, Spike now waiting for him, watching his descent. He straightened and jogged the remaining few steps, ignoring the tearing pain in his chest.

They selected some weapons then headed down into the sewers. Angel consulted his watch. 'She'll be finishing work. We'll catch her when she gets home.'

Spike was twirling the axe he'd selected around in his hand, making imaginary thrusts, and didn't respond.

After watching the small battle for a while, Angel murmured, 'She's souled, Spike. You can't kill her.'

'Is that so?'

'You're souled. So, I repeat, you can't kill her. Besides, she's kinda a key player. She goes, and the consequences might be unpleasant.'

'You sound like bloody Wesley.'


'Cautious, balanced, neutral. Where're your balls, Angelus? Where's you sense of adventure?'

'Don't call me that.'


'You know why.'

'Oh, cus that's what you get called when you're naughty? Angel, did it never occur to you that a rose by any other name is still just a soddin' flower that feeds on shit?'

'I'll call you William then.'

'Might as bloody well. Been every bloody derivation of it: William, Will, fucking Billy….'


Spike stopped. 'Once, Angelus. You called me that once.'

Angel kept walking. 'I'm not doing this with you.'

He turned back at a small hissed 'no' from Spike and frowned. 'What?'

Spike straightened. 'Nothing.' He pushed past Angel and went back to swinging his axe.

They walked in silence for a mile or two until Angel said in a clipped tone, 'She won't tell us shit. She'll play us.'

'She can try.'

'She knows our histories.' The memory of a body bucking beneath him and a cry of ejaculation echoing around the lobby slipped into his mind. 'She knows too much about recent events now, too. Remember, she's had the hotel bugged… conversations… arguments….'

Once more, Spike stopped. This time, as he hissed, 'No,' he banged the side of his head hard.

Angel winced. 'What?'

'Nothing!' He strode on, stomping through the slight trickle of rainwater.

'Your chip?'

'My bleedin' what?'

'You've come back with your chip?'

'Don't be so bloody stupid, Angel.'

'Then why are you…?'

'I've got a bloody headache. Okay?'

Angel frowned, until Spike added, 'Been drinkin'.'

Angel gave him a disgusted look. 'Now we're slipping back to the real Spike. No more talk of champions! What d'ya say…?'

He saw Spike's incredulous expression and trailed off.

Spike said cautiously, 'It was communion wine. I shagged a nun and drank the whole bloody bottle.'

Angel stared at him, then turned to carry on, but swung around and punched him. 'You think that's funny to joke about?'

Spike touched fingers to his bleeding nose and nodded, seeming pleased. 'Okay, your opinion of me is low, but not that low. 'S interesting.' He strode on. 'Catch up, Angelus. I wanna get this little show-down over. I'm bloody parched here. Feels like I've not had a bleedin' drink for months…. Wait! I've NOT had a bleedin' drink for months….'

Feeling like he was being expertly played, but entirely unsure what the aim of the game was, Angel strode after Spike with a grim, annoyed expression on his face.

They waited in the shadows of the underground garage, but Lilah saw them as soon as she alighted from the car. She bent to speak to someone, and another figure in robes climbed out, the face deeply hooded. She smirked at the vampires. 'Tromac demon, Angel. He repels the dead. Oh! That's… you and your little fuck-toy.'

Spike took a menacing step forward, but Angel put an arm across to prevent him. She smirked again but with a slightly nervous flutter of her lips. 'Angel knows what I mean, don't you?'

'Why did you kill him, Lilah?'

'He was going to destroy the amulet.'

Spike began to speak as if to clarify this, but Angel's hand shifted up from waist height, clamping over Spike's mouth briefly. 'Why didn't you want the amulet destroyed?'

Spike shook off the gag, shifted his eyes furiously to Angel, but did not try to speak, watching the interaction between them.

Lilah snickered faintly. 'Spike's a major player, Angel, or didn't you get that? Smashing it without the unpleasant addition of your blood would have freed his essence in incorporeal form. You did a job for us, Angel: brought him back whole.'

'For what? What's Spike's role in all this?'

Not expecting her to reply, Angel was slightly taken aback when she smiled and said, pleased, 'He's here to kill you, Angel. What else?'

Spike chuckled and began to light a cigarette. 'Don't even need paying for that little bit of fun, Bint.'

Angel ignored the interruption.

'Kinda complex plot just to have me taken out of the picture. Why not send in a capable flunky?'

She laughed- a hard, unpleasant sound. 'So full of your own importance, Angel. We don't care about you- alive or dead. It's Spike- the great champion. He'll kill you, and he'll be driven insane by it. We'll have ourselves a psychotic William the Bloody to play with. Watch out world!'

Spike took a long drag of his cigarette and blew out a lazy stream of smoke. 'Killing the poofter ain't gonna ruffle one hair on me head, Bitch. Sorry- wrong plan.'

Lilah twitched up an eyebrow. 'I've been watching a video that says otherwise. Now, if you gentlemen will excuse me, I have an appointment with some people that actually interest me.' She strode off, followed by the demon, her heels clicking, the sound echoing around the otherwise empty garage.

Spike flicked his butt into a small graceful arc and ground it out, watching his boot. 'Well, now, I'm real glad we had that illuminating little chat.'

'Is she right, Spike?'

'What? 'Bout me killin' you, or me being a tad upset by that?' He chuckled as if at some private joke and strode back toward the sewer entrance.

Angel frowned, feeling that he was missing something once more, the alarm bells ringing in his head so loudly that he was too distracted to get an answer to his question.

Go To Chapter 10

Home | Spike Angel Fiction Index