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Dressed Like a Human	By : Kimmy Category: -Buffy the Vampire Slayer > Slash - Male/Male > Angel(us)/Spike(William) > Angel(us)/Spike(William) Views: 1882 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: This is fanfiction. I do not own Angel the Series nor Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I get no money from writing this story.

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Title: Dressed Like a Human (3/4)

Author: Kimmy Jarl

Rating: R

Warnings: M/M sex

Pairing: Spike/Angel

Disclaimer: This is fanfiction. I do
not own Angel the Series, and I get no money from writing this story.

Setting: Post NFA

Summary: When Angel fought in that
alley behind the Hyperion, one part of him wasn�t there. One part of him was in
the rainforest.

AN: Written for the grazieprego Spangel Ficathon. More or less inspired by my prompt: �Let�s pretend we�re human and
that we meet for the first time.�

III

Angel lay
on the bed, under the covers. He tried to sleep, but he couldn�t. Thick
curtains hung over the windows, but the room was still warm and shimmering with
sunlight. He heard voices outside the window. Men, women and children, their
voices excited and matter-of-fact, as they walked the sunlit street. The sound
of a car door slamming shut.

Back to business as usual.

Maybe he
shouldn�t complain. They had been lacking, in need of direction, when the
Powers had sent him their one time vision. The Circle
was dead. He shouldn�t complain. But as he lay there, tired but not sleeping,
he said the words in his head, over and over like a prayer: Not proportionate. Not proportionate.

Angel fell
asleep, finally, and dreamt about a dragon being chased by helicopters.

He woke up
a few hours later. Someone was poking him.

�Hey, wake
up.� Poke. �Hey, wake up.� Poke.

�Spike, what the hell?�

Spike was
sitting on the edge of the bed. �Awake yet?� Spike said. And
poked him again.

Angel pushed
Spike�s hand aside. �Spike. Get out of my bed.� He
struggled to a sitting position. He felt sleepy, and he couldn�t quite shake
it.

�Don�t get
your knickers in a twist,� Spike said. �I just wanted to talk. Besides�� He
smirked, small and quiet. �Not the first time I�m in your bed, is it?�

�Please
don�t remind me,� Angel groaned.

Looking
back, it seemed sometimes that all he�d done before he got the soul was to
fuck. An endless parade of humans, almost always woman, their
flesh plump under his hands, and rich with blood. He�d fucked Darla, all
the time, and Drusilla. And � if only for the sake of variety � he�d fucked
Spike. Sex had meant so little back then.

Except with Darla. Because she was Darla.

Angel
leaned back against the wall, his bare feet dangling over the side of the bed.

�Get out.�

�But��

�Spike.�
He made his voice firm. Not that he expected Spike to listen. This was Spike,
always annoying, always with an opinion of his own. A
nuisance. Sometimes unexpectedly capable. Sometimes� Spike had been a friend. They�d had fun together.
Angel could remember, clear as if it was yesterday, a small convent outside of
Paris, Angel taking his time with a young nun, licking the blood off her small
breasts, and Spike, fully dressed in her clothes, the frock and the cap, drunk
and giggling on sacramental wine.

�You were
right.�

��Course I
was. When?�

�I can�t
stand the sight of you.�

�Say what?�

Angel
sighed. He put one of his ankles over the other and slumped back against the
wall. �What do you want, Spike?�

�Nothing.�
Spike stood up.

�Come on.
If it�s important enough to wake me up for��

�You don�t
want to hear it.�

�Probably not.� Angel patted the bed. �Sit. Talk.�

Spike
hesitated, and then sat down next to him and scooted backwards to lean back
against the wall. His boots were muddy and smelled of the sewers.

�So�� Angel
said, after Spike had been silent for some time.

�So� you
can�t stand the sight of me.� Spike sounded like he was pouting.

�You know
why,� Angel said, looking at the drape-covered window. Talking to Spike was
easier sitting side by side. �It must be the same for you.�

�It�� Spike
fell silent.

Angel
glanced to the side and found Spike staring at him, his mouth slightly open.
�Looking at you,� Angle said. �It makes me remember� what you are. What I am.�

�A vampire?� The question was low, tentative.

�Maybe.� Maybe.

But that
was stupid.

Angel
looked at the curtains, trying to reinvoke the feeling of the rainforest, the
life-in-death stillness of the rainforest floor.

Slowly,
like he was deep in thought, Spike said, �To live again in human form.�

�And have
his past washed clean,� Angel supplied.

Silence.

�You still
believe in that?� Spike asked.

�Not a
matter of belief.�

�What
then?�

�A carrot,�
Angel said. �The Powers waved it in my face, to make me go where they wanted.�

Spike
shifted, uneasily. �It�s a rotten deal anyway.� He didn�t sound convinced.

�It�s prophesy,� Angel said. �It might be wrong, or we might
have to wait ad infinitum. Isn�t that how a prophesy
usually works?�

�Huh,�
Spike said.

�And now it
seems we�re chasing the real
apocalypse,� Angel said. He glanced at the ceiling. �The
final final battle.�

�The end of
days,� Spike said.

�Heaven on Earth.�

�Judgment day.�

�And the
dead shall rise,� Spike intoned. �To live forever.�

�Unless you�re a vampire.�

�Or one of us.�

�You.�

�No, you.�

Angel heard
Spike snicker, and he smiled in spite of himself.

�You ever
think,� Spike said. �That the reason it has to be one of us is because we might
still be alive when the trumpets sound?�

�Yeah, that
makes no sense at all.�

�Guess
not.�

He
remembered signing it away. Remembered having to squash the distracting thought
that maybe � just maybe � this was one of those
didn�t-deserve-it-until-he-gave-it-up kind of deals.
Fighting for no reward, after all, wasn�t that a more deserving kind of
fighting?

Not that
any one of them have ever gotten a reward.

What was so
funny, just a minute ago?

�Angel��

�It�s all
over.� He felt cold.

�No, it�s
not.� Spike patted his shoulder, awkwardly. �We�re still here. Two heroic� heroes, moving on with our lives.�

�Not that
simple.�

�Listen,�
Spike said. �You don�t have to leave.�

Angel shook
his head. �Have to.�

Spike kept
patting his shoulder. �You want to fall apart, go crazy for awhile? That�s
fine. I�m pretty sure this hotel has a basement.�

Angel
pushed Spike�s hand away and got to his feet. He felt crowded. He paced, back
and forth across the floor. He couldn�t� not. Maybe it
was the words �fall apart�, spoken like that, like an invitation.

He stopped
pacing. Stood still in the middle of the room, the carpet
rough under his feet. Cold. He brought his
fingers to his face.

�Hey��
Spike said.

The real and final one.

This was
not real.

It was not proportionate.

Angel stood
still, his head down. He wanted to step out of his skin. He couldn�t even move.
His fingers were on his face, and he didn�t move one inch.

�Hey,� he
heard Spike say. �Come here. Sit down for a bit.�

Angel sat
down on the floor.

�Um�
right.� Spike hunched down next to him, too close. Angel pushed him away.

Spike fell
on his ass.

Spike was
drunk and giggling on sacramental wine.

It wasn�t
proportionate.

Spike was
gone, and then Spike was kneeling beside him, a glass of water in his hand.

�This is
holy water,� Spike said.

�No, it
isn�t.�

�Yes. It
is.�

Spike�s
hand was in his hair, pulling his head back and pulling Angel closer against
his chest. �You�re human,� Spike said. �You died in the alley and now you�re
human. Your past is clean.�

�Spike��

What the
hell?

�Schhh.� Spike�s lips were close to his ear. The grip
in his hair tightened. �You�re human, go with it. You think I don�t understand?
You said it yourself, it�s the same for me. There is
no shame between us.�

No shame?

�This is
holy water,� Spike said, and poured the water over Angel�s face.

The water
was cool. It ran down his cheeks and his neck. Angel could taste it on his
lips. It didn�t burn.

It didn�t
burn.

�Good,�
Spike said. �Now tell me� which one of them do you
miss the most?�

Angel
struggled, but Spike held him still � he let Spike hold him still.

�Tell me,�
Spike said, and Angel didn�t care that it was Spike, that this was Spike
holding him. The question was the important thing.

�All of
them,� Angel said. He could remember the rainforest now. �Cordelia.
She was� there was no one like her. Fred� Fred.� His throat felt tight, and he
took a deep breath. �Wesley. We had our falling outs, but really Wesley was�
the best of friends.� He said it again, because the words had tugged at his
insides. He wanted to feel it again. �He was the best of friends.�

There was
water on his face. He was back in the rainforest, the place beneath the leaves,
where it was dark and peaceful and everything was warmth and life. In a distant
place, he was crying. He was crying without making a sound, but his face was
wet and his back was bowed.

He stayed
in the forest for a long time. Outside the room the sun came down. Spike�s arms
were around him and his head was on Spike�s chest. He stayed there as time
passed.

Calm. He
felt calm and better somehow, like he really had washed something
away. Then Spike�s arms disappeared from his back, and Angel swayed where he
sat, out of balance and shivering from the stirrings of cold. He didn�t want to
leave, not just yet.

Go with it.

He looked
at Spike, at the man who had held him, and his eyes felt clean and new. It was
raining, far away and deep inside.

No shame between us.

�Who are
you?� Angel asked.
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Dressed Like a Human