Backup, Chapter 5
Jun. 29th, 2006 07:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatotherpervin which I make things a little better. at least, the boys are no longer huddled in the dark wanting to cry...for long. *g*
Title: Backup: the Won’t Back Down sequel
Author: Mel (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17 slash, some het elements but no more than PG-13
Summary: teen human AU sequel to WBD, the boys learn how to be men and face the world together. Um, some less pretty things are gonna happen here. I’m just sayin’.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss and ME...alas, alack.
Feedback: please :)
Won’t Back Down and related ficlets are here
Chapter 5
As the days went by, Angel remained non-responsive. He ate when Spike told him to, and took his pain meds when Spike forced them to the back of his throat like an intractable cat, but he was distant and strange and broken-hearted.
On day three, Spike realized he needed to step away for a bit, clear his head. He was wound up too tight and he felt like he might pop like a high-tension wire, lashing out to slice into any innocent bystanders. So, he went out and had a good jam session with Oz and Dev, then hauled himself to the gym and beat his body against the wall for a bit. He returned in the early evening, pleasantly exhausted and aggressionless.
Angel wasn’t in the living room, or the kitchen, or their bedroom when Spike entered the house. Knowing logically that the injured boy couldn’t have gone far, Spike began to wander the rooms calling his name, pace picking up to a jog when he didn’t find him immediately.
When he rounded the corner to the last room in the house, a dusty little nook used mainly for storage, his body deflated with relief to see Liam hulking in the corner in the dark.
Spike leaned casually in the doorframe. “Needed a change of scenery for your brooding, hey?”
Angel scowled at him nastily but said nothing. Spike sat, and they fell into silence. Spike suspected that maybe if he sat long enough, Angel would talk. Words were in short supply these days from him, but Spike could practically see the thoughts tapping away in his brain.
Spike had zoned out and nearly written the plan off when Angel finally spoke.
“O’Connor isn’t even my name.” His voice was trembling, and Spike looked up to see him furtively wiping away tears. “I don’t even know my real name.”
It was the first time Angel had acknowledged the truth they’d discovered the day of the beating, though Spike knew he’d been chewing on it.
Spike bit his lip. “Pet…it’s still your name. That doesn’t have to change. You’re still you.” It felt so hollow and useless to say, in the face of this much despair. Liam was always the one better at comforting, and Spike was somewhat at a loss.
But Spike got the feeling that Angel hadn’t even heard him. He just shook his head, to himself, frowning deeply. “I don’t even know—”
His rich baritone cracked at the end, so raw. As though he didn’t even know what he didn’t even know. Angel’s whole universe was turned on its ear and the only thing remotely holding it together was Spike.
A rather dubious lynchpin, if you asked him.
For a moment, Spike was hit with an overwhelming need for some coke. His brain hurt, and everything was on his shoulders, and it was just too much. It would be so relieving, to just step out of it all for a few hours. It didn’t have to become a habit again….
He squeezed his eyes shut. It had been a while since his last craving, and it caught him off-guard enough that the urge punched him in the gut. It was the last thing either of them needed at the moment. He just had to get through this rough patch, and things would be easier.
“Do you think that’s why he always hated me? I mean, maybe if I’d been his, he wouldn’t have hit me so much, you know? Or drank….”
Angel’s bruised eyes and vulnerable questions distracted Spike from his own inner monologue. Angel was finally looking at him, as though he were speaking to Spike, not just to himself.
“Honestly?” Angel nodded, face too pale, eyes too dark. “I think he would have been a useless, drunken bastard regardless of whose sperm you came from. It’s something that was in him, luv, makin’ him wrong. You may have been the excuse he told himself, but…it was something in him.”
Just like it’s something in me.
Well, no need to point out any parallels between himself and that prick. Spike would never do that to Liam, would never hit him or…hurt him deliberately. He didn’t want to scare Angel off by pointing out he’d simply fallen for an addict of a different stripe. Especially when Spike could see that the assurance had miraculously done its job, making Angel relax fractionally.
They needed to get out. It wasn’t good for them, to be cooped up in the dark, alone with their scary thoughts.
Spike studied Angel for a moment, before reaching for his mobile. “Come join me for a quick shower, pet…then we’re going out for a change.”
~*~*~*~
Angel giggled, snorted, and then peeled into giggles again at himself. Lying on his back, he curled in on himself in the grass with the force of his laughter.
Spike sucked his teeth in amusement, took a small toke off the joint in his hand and passed it to Faith. Everyone was lounging in the grass by the creek in various positions of relaxation: Spike, Angel, Faith, Xander, Willow, Oz. Spike hadn’t invited Devon, but he’d called everyone else. Angel didn’t need to be alone right now, even though isolation seemed to be his first instinct. What he needed was friends—and a little bit of hash.
They’d all come running when he’d called. Perhaps later, Angel could remember that, and realize that he was cherished, by some.
But right now Angel was high as a kite, which was about where he needed to be. Spike suspected he wouldn’t require his dose of prescription painkillers tonight.
“Damn, Oz, this is good shit,” Faith observed through pinched breath. She exhaled. “How much does this stuff run?”
“For you, right now? Nothin’,” Oz answered mildly.
Spike chuckled. “Run away, children, big bad drug dealer’s tryin’ to get you hooked in the schoolyard.”
Oz just smiled that small cat-smile. The joint was passed to Willow, who pretended to take a hit.
They all lay back, enjoying the light, clean buzz of Oz’s stash. The topics drifted lightly, slow dazed stoner-babble, steering far clear of anything that might upset Angel. When they had all arrived in pairs at Angel and Faith’s secret spot, everyone had studiously made miserable attempts to disguise their horror at Angel’s appearance. The only exceptions were Faith, who had already muscled her way into a visit the very next day after the beating, and Oz, who never showed an expression over anything anyway. They all tried to pretend Angel didn’t look like his face had been put through a meat-grinder. Some were better at it than others. Willow had finally settled on just not looking at him that often.
Spike lazily followed the path of the fluttering dark objects in the sky with his eyes. “Those bats?” he inquired into the silence.
“Yeah,” Willow’s voice answered from the darkness. “Mexican free-tailed bats. There’s a colony not far from here.”
“Bats.” Spike could practically hear Xander shudder. “I hate bats. They’re creepy and…hairy.”
“Naw, man, bats are cool,” Oz replied, his voice tight with smoke. “They’re like little furry men, with wings. And they’re better to have around than a citronella candle.”
The insight was greeted with a round of snickers.
“I always wanted to be Batman,” Angel suddenly announced, too loud and dreamy-sounding. The confession triggered more laughter.
Smiling, Spike slipped his hand into Angel’s. “Batman, hey pet?”
“Yeah,” Angel confirmed emphatically. “You know, he always had all sorts of cool toys, like that claw thing. And hey! Spike, you could be Robin!”
Everyone was dying, guffawing at the image.
“Spike, you’d look good in tights, man,” Oz called out wryly. There was a smacking sound in the dark as Willow whacked him on the arm. The punishment only encouraged fresh laughter to flare among everyone else, and Angel joined in merrily, though he was so high, Spike wasn’t sure he followed what he was laughing over.
It was good. They laughed and carried on late into the night, the lot of them, holding Angel safe in a bubble of laughter and companionship.
~*~*~*~
By the time Angel woke up the next day, it was past noon. He was alone in their bed. He’d been sleeping a lot lately—he and Spike blamed it on the painkillers, but Angel knew that mostly, it was because he just didn’t want to face the weight of his own conscious thoughts.
Last night had been better, though. The hazy pot-forged memories were full of laughter, and for a few hours, he’d forgotten everything other than how wonderful his friends were. Good friends. The best.
If only a sliver of that feeling of rightness carried over into today, it would be more than he had yesterday. Angel knew that’s what Spike had intended, and it had worked.
Wincing, Angel sat up and eased himself to his feet, limping to the bathroom. Usually he waited until Spike made him get out of bed, but that was going to get old fast, and today, getting up didn’t seem like such an awful thing.
He’d been avoiding mirrors since the beating, but today, he stared at the face above the sink. He hardly even recognized it as himself, but that seemed fitting, considering everything. His face was mottled purple and puffy all over, his eye still swollen shut. He hadn’t bruised up this badly in years. Angel had been in fist fights, but usually the other guy took the brunt of the injury. The only person to ever consistently beat the snot out of him had been his d—Mike. Even then, Mike had always avoided hitting him in the face too much. Wouldn’t want anyone to know how much he liked to hit his kid.
Seemed symbolic somehow that most of the blows had been to his face, this time.
Angel carefully peeled back his split lip to see the empty socket where his tooth had been. The stitches looked clean. He had to carefully avoid the spot when he brushed his teeth, or the bristles hurt like hell. Doc had said no sucking or blowing of any kind (his exact words, swear to God) for a week or he’d blow out the stitches and get dry socket.
Spike hadn’t said anything, but Angel knew he’d thought it—no blow jobs for a while, and obviously with his tailbone broken, no sex for a long time. Angel felt guilty, but he was really glad for the excuse. His sex drive was totally dead, these last few days, and the idea of touching or being touched felt foreign and unappealing. Two nights ago, Spike had beat off next to him in bed, but Angel had pretended to be asleep. Not that Angel thought Spike expected anything from him right now.
But he would, eventually. One thing you could count on about Spike, he was horny.
Angel broke his gaze from the mirror and took care of his hygiene perfunctorily. He rubbed some of the topical numbing cream onto his gums where the tooth should be, but he put off taking the painkillers. He hurt all over, but he wanted to be lucid for a while, today.
Angel heard voices downstairs. Painfully, he hobbled down for the first time by himself, to see Spike standing at the front door, blocking two police officers from entering. Angel’s pulse kicked up as he thought about the previous night. Spike had never gotten in trouble for drugs in the U.S., but he wouldn’t want that to start now, on his account.
And it looked likely that Spike was getting himself into even more trouble, if the way he was yelling at the officers gave any indication.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, did you even look at the report of what he did to Liam? Bastard had it coming.” Spike crossed his arms over his chest and Angel could imagine the pig-headed look on his face. As his words hit Angel, he realized this wasn’t about the pot.
“Look, we don’t want to take you in. We just want to come in and ask some questions—”
“What’s going on?” Angel asked quietly, stepping up behind Spike. The men at the door looked at him, swiftly and professionally concealing their reactions to his appearance.
Spike turned towards him, face softening. “Nothing, pet. These men were just leaving. Didn’t want to bother you.”
Angel's eyes flicked up to the officers. “What happened to the guy I talked to at the hospital?” He’d liked that guy—nice, a grandfather type.
“Had his retirement party yesterday. We’re on this case now. My name is Officer Green, and this is my partner, Officer Peabody. Are you—“ He consulted the report in his hand. “Liam O’Connor?”
Spike reached over and squeezed his hand, and Angel knew he was thinking of their conversation in the storage room. “Yeah.”
“We need to talk to you as well.” Officer Green eyed their joined hands, and Angel stifled the urge to pull away from Spike.
Angel scratched at the back of his head with his other hand. “Come in, I guess. Living room’s there, we’ll be right in.”
Angel hung back with Spike. “He’s trying to press counter-charges?” That’s how they spoke of Mike these days. He. Him. Though Spike usually elaborated with invectives.
Spike nodded, jaw muscles flexing under his skin. “I told them to fuck right off, it’s ridiculous. Look, you don’t have to talk to them, I’ll just—”
“Spike, it’s fine. I’m fine now, thanks to last night.” His grip tightened on Spike’s hand, but Spike looked extremely skeptical. “Ok, so I’m not fine,” Angel conceded. “But, better. I can do this. Let’s just not make this worse, ok?”
Spike scoffed and started to light into another tirade, but Angel stopped him with a finger to his lips.
“Just be polite, and let’s get this over with. Okay?”
Spike looked loathe to agree, but he did, and that was all that mattered. The last thing he needed was for Spike to get arrested for being a stubborn ass.
They split up. Spike and Officer Peabody went through the swinging door into the kitchen. Angel stayed in the living room with Officer Green, and answered lots of clarifying questions about his injuries, and how the altercation had begun. Angel tried to just check out of the story emotionally, telling it like it was something he’d seen on tv. It sure as hell sounded like something you’d see on Cops.
“Could you tell me what you saw when William Devlin struck Mike O’Connor?”
“Well, my back was turned, so I didn’t really see it. But I mean, what I do know is that…Mike…had already hurt me so bad, I wasn’t getting back up again. And he just wouldn’t stop, you know? I was vomiting my guts out, and that’s when he broke my tailbone. I think Spike just wanted to, you know, stop him. I think he would have just kept hitting me until….” Angel paused, unsure how far he thought it would have gone. “I dunno. But he wasn’t stopping. Spike just wanted to stop him from hurting me.”
There was a lull as the officer took down notes. From the kitchen, Angel could hear Spike raising his voice.
“Jesus Christ, it was practically a sodding hate crime. Isn’t that illegal in this country??”
Angel winced as Green looked towards the kitchen.
“He’s just…protective,” Angel offered lamely. The man lifted his eyebrows in tacit agreement, but didn’t respond to that.
“Look, it’s pretty obvious from the extent of your injuries, and the limited nature of the injury to your father, that this was a defensive action. Unless your friend in there shoots himself in the foot by behind uncooperative, I doubt we’re going to bring him up on charges.”
It was a relief to hear, though Angel couldn’t fully relax until he and Spike were closing the front door behind the police, and Spike hadn’t punched either of them.
“Fucking red-tape slinging arseholes,” Spike muttered to the door. He followed Angel into the living room, sitting after Angel eased himself onto the cushions.
“Sorry I caused you a hassle,” Angel murmured.
Spike gave him a long look. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even if they had arrested me.”
The stubborn set of Spike’s mouth coaxed Angel forward, and he kissed it carefully. The kiss was hardly sexy. Too painful, with his split lip. But it was reassuring, and nice.
Angel hadn’t told Spike he loved him yet. But he would. As soon as he stopped feeling raw and new-skinned. As soon as the moment could hold some joy. As soon as he wasn’t scared shitless of his life.
Not today, in other words. Tomorrow wasn’t looking so hot either.
They both leaned back against the sofa. “Breakfast?” Spike asked.
“Breakfast,” Angel confirmed.
“Fraid cooking is out of the question, so Lucky Charms’ll have to do.”
Angel cringed at the thought of Spike, wielding cookware. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, thank god.”
Spike didn’t pause on his journey to the kitchen as he good-naturedly flipped Angel off.
there's more! I know, lucky you.
Title: Backup: the Won’t Back Down sequel
Author: Mel (
btvslover82)Pairing: Spangel
Rating: NC-17 slash, some het elements but no more than PG-13
Summary: teen human AU sequel to WBD, the boys learn how to be men and face the world together. Um, some less pretty things are gonna happen here. I’m just sayin’.
Disclaimer: the characters belong to Joss and ME...alas, alack.
Feedback: please :)
Won’t Back Down and related ficlets are here
Chapter 5
As the days went by, Angel remained non-responsive. He ate when Spike told him to, and took his pain meds when Spike forced them to the back of his throat like an intractable cat, but he was distant and strange and broken-hearted.
On day three, Spike realized he needed to step away for a bit, clear his head. He was wound up too tight and he felt like he might pop like a high-tension wire, lashing out to slice into any innocent bystanders. So, he went out and had a good jam session with Oz and Dev, then hauled himself to the gym and beat his body against the wall for a bit. He returned in the early evening, pleasantly exhausted and aggressionless.
Angel wasn’t in the living room, or the kitchen, or their bedroom when Spike entered the house. Knowing logically that the injured boy couldn’t have gone far, Spike began to wander the rooms calling his name, pace picking up to a jog when he didn’t find him immediately.
When he rounded the corner to the last room in the house, a dusty little nook used mainly for storage, his body deflated with relief to see Liam hulking in the corner in the dark.
Spike leaned casually in the doorframe. “Needed a change of scenery for your brooding, hey?”
Angel scowled at him nastily but said nothing. Spike sat, and they fell into silence. Spike suspected that maybe if he sat long enough, Angel would talk. Words were in short supply these days from him, but Spike could practically see the thoughts tapping away in his brain.
Spike had zoned out and nearly written the plan off when Angel finally spoke.
“O’Connor isn’t even my name.” His voice was trembling, and Spike looked up to see him furtively wiping away tears. “I don’t even know my real name.”
It was the first time Angel had acknowledged the truth they’d discovered the day of the beating, though Spike knew he’d been chewing on it.
Spike bit his lip. “Pet…it’s still your name. That doesn’t have to change. You’re still you.” It felt so hollow and useless to say, in the face of this much despair. Liam was always the one better at comforting, and Spike was somewhat at a loss.
But Spike got the feeling that Angel hadn’t even heard him. He just shook his head, to himself, frowning deeply. “I don’t even know—”
His rich baritone cracked at the end, so raw. As though he didn’t even know what he didn’t even know. Angel’s whole universe was turned on its ear and the only thing remotely holding it together was Spike.
A rather dubious lynchpin, if you asked him.
For a moment, Spike was hit with an overwhelming need for some coke. His brain hurt, and everything was on his shoulders, and it was just too much. It would be so relieving, to just step out of it all for a few hours. It didn’t have to become a habit again….
He squeezed his eyes shut. It had been a while since his last craving, and it caught him off-guard enough that the urge punched him in the gut. It was the last thing either of them needed at the moment. He just had to get through this rough patch, and things would be easier.
“Do you think that’s why he always hated me? I mean, maybe if I’d been his, he wouldn’t have hit me so much, you know? Or drank….”
Angel’s bruised eyes and vulnerable questions distracted Spike from his own inner monologue. Angel was finally looking at him, as though he were speaking to Spike, not just to himself.
“Honestly?” Angel nodded, face too pale, eyes too dark. “I think he would have been a useless, drunken bastard regardless of whose sperm you came from. It’s something that was in him, luv, makin’ him wrong. You may have been the excuse he told himself, but…it was something in him.”
Just like it’s something in me.
Well, no need to point out any parallels between himself and that prick. Spike would never do that to Liam, would never hit him or…hurt him deliberately. He didn’t want to scare Angel off by pointing out he’d simply fallen for an addict of a different stripe. Especially when Spike could see that the assurance had miraculously done its job, making Angel relax fractionally.
They needed to get out. It wasn’t good for them, to be cooped up in the dark, alone with their scary thoughts.
Spike studied Angel for a moment, before reaching for his mobile. “Come join me for a quick shower, pet…then we’re going out for a change.”
~*~*~*~
Angel giggled, snorted, and then peeled into giggles again at himself. Lying on his back, he curled in on himself in the grass with the force of his laughter.
Spike sucked his teeth in amusement, took a small toke off the joint in his hand and passed it to Faith. Everyone was lounging in the grass by the creek in various positions of relaxation: Spike, Angel, Faith, Xander, Willow, Oz. Spike hadn’t invited Devon, but he’d called everyone else. Angel didn’t need to be alone right now, even though isolation seemed to be his first instinct. What he needed was friends—and a little bit of hash.
They’d all come running when he’d called. Perhaps later, Angel could remember that, and realize that he was cherished, by some.
But right now Angel was high as a kite, which was about where he needed to be. Spike suspected he wouldn’t require his dose of prescription painkillers tonight.
“Damn, Oz, this is good shit,” Faith observed through pinched breath. She exhaled. “How much does this stuff run?”
“For you, right now? Nothin’,” Oz answered mildly.
Spike chuckled. “Run away, children, big bad drug dealer’s tryin’ to get you hooked in the schoolyard.”
Oz just smiled that small cat-smile. The joint was passed to Willow, who pretended to take a hit.
They all lay back, enjoying the light, clean buzz of Oz’s stash. The topics drifted lightly, slow dazed stoner-babble, steering far clear of anything that might upset Angel. When they had all arrived in pairs at Angel and Faith’s secret spot, everyone had studiously made miserable attempts to disguise their horror at Angel’s appearance. The only exceptions were Faith, who had already muscled her way into a visit the very next day after the beating, and Oz, who never showed an expression over anything anyway. They all tried to pretend Angel didn’t look like his face had been put through a meat-grinder. Some were better at it than others. Willow had finally settled on just not looking at him that often.
Spike lazily followed the path of the fluttering dark objects in the sky with his eyes. “Those bats?” he inquired into the silence.
“Yeah,” Willow’s voice answered from the darkness. “Mexican free-tailed bats. There’s a colony not far from here.”
“Bats.” Spike could practically hear Xander shudder. “I hate bats. They’re creepy and…hairy.”
“Naw, man, bats are cool,” Oz replied, his voice tight with smoke. “They’re like little furry men, with wings. And they’re better to have around than a citronella candle.”
The insight was greeted with a round of snickers.
“I always wanted to be Batman,” Angel suddenly announced, too loud and dreamy-sounding. The confession triggered more laughter.
Smiling, Spike slipped his hand into Angel’s. “Batman, hey pet?”
“Yeah,” Angel confirmed emphatically. “You know, he always had all sorts of cool toys, like that claw thing. And hey! Spike, you could be Robin!”
Everyone was dying, guffawing at the image.
“Spike, you’d look good in tights, man,” Oz called out wryly. There was a smacking sound in the dark as Willow whacked him on the arm. The punishment only encouraged fresh laughter to flare among everyone else, and Angel joined in merrily, though he was so high, Spike wasn’t sure he followed what he was laughing over.
It was good. They laughed and carried on late into the night, the lot of them, holding Angel safe in a bubble of laughter and companionship.
~*~*~*~
By the time Angel woke up the next day, it was past noon. He was alone in their bed. He’d been sleeping a lot lately—he and Spike blamed it on the painkillers, but Angel knew that mostly, it was because he just didn’t want to face the weight of his own conscious thoughts.
Last night had been better, though. The hazy pot-forged memories were full of laughter, and for a few hours, he’d forgotten everything other than how wonderful his friends were. Good friends. The best.
If only a sliver of that feeling of rightness carried over into today, it would be more than he had yesterday. Angel knew that’s what Spike had intended, and it had worked.
Wincing, Angel sat up and eased himself to his feet, limping to the bathroom. Usually he waited until Spike made him get out of bed, but that was going to get old fast, and today, getting up didn’t seem like such an awful thing.
He’d been avoiding mirrors since the beating, but today, he stared at the face above the sink. He hardly even recognized it as himself, but that seemed fitting, considering everything. His face was mottled purple and puffy all over, his eye still swollen shut. He hadn’t bruised up this badly in years. Angel had been in fist fights, but usually the other guy took the brunt of the injury. The only person to ever consistently beat the snot out of him had been his d—Mike. Even then, Mike had always avoided hitting him in the face too much. Wouldn’t want anyone to know how much he liked to hit his kid.
Seemed symbolic somehow that most of the blows had been to his face, this time.
Angel carefully peeled back his split lip to see the empty socket where his tooth had been. The stitches looked clean. He had to carefully avoid the spot when he brushed his teeth, or the bristles hurt like hell. Doc had said no sucking or blowing of any kind (his exact words, swear to God) for a week or he’d blow out the stitches and get dry socket.
Spike hadn’t said anything, but Angel knew he’d thought it—no blow jobs for a while, and obviously with his tailbone broken, no sex for a long time. Angel felt guilty, but he was really glad for the excuse. His sex drive was totally dead, these last few days, and the idea of touching or being touched felt foreign and unappealing. Two nights ago, Spike had beat off next to him in bed, but Angel had pretended to be asleep. Not that Angel thought Spike expected anything from him right now.
But he would, eventually. One thing you could count on about Spike, he was horny.
Angel broke his gaze from the mirror and took care of his hygiene perfunctorily. He rubbed some of the topical numbing cream onto his gums where the tooth should be, but he put off taking the painkillers. He hurt all over, but he wanted to be lucid for a while, today.
Angel heard voices downstairs. Painfully, he hobbled down for the first time by himself, to see Spike standing at the front door, blocking two police officers from entering. Angel’s pulse kicked up as he thought about the previous night. Spike had never gotten in trouble for drugs in the U.S., but he wouldn’t want that to start now, on his account.
And it looked likely that Spike was getting himself into even more trouble, if the way he was yelling at the officers gave any indication.
“Oh for fuck’s sake, did you even look at the report of what he did to Liam? Bastard had it coming.” Spike crossed his arms over his chest and Angel could imagine the pig-headed look on his face. As his words hit Angel, he realized this wasn’t about the pot.
“Look, we don’t want to take you in. We just want to come in and ask some questions—”
“What’s going on?” Angel asked quietly, stepping up behind Spike. The men at the door looked at him, swiftly and professionally concealing their reactions to his appearance.
Spike turned towards him, face softening. “Nothing, pet. These men were just leaving. Didn’t want to bother you.”
Angel's eyes flicked up to the officers. “What happened to the guy I talked to at the hospital?” He’d liked that guy—nice, a grandfather type.
“Had his retirement party yesterday. We’re on this case now. My name is Officer Green, and this is my partner, Officer Peabody. Are you—“ He consulted the report in his hand. “Liam O’Connor?”
Spike reached over and squeezed his hand, and Angel knew he was thinking of their conversation in the storage room. “Yeah.”
“We need to talk to you as well.” Officer Green eyed their joined hands, and Angel stifled the urge to pull away from Spike.
Angel scratched at the back of his head with his other hand. “Come in, I guess. Living room’s there, we’ll be right in.”
Angel hung back with Spike. “He’s trying to press counter-charges?” That’s how they spoke of Mike these days. He. Him. Though Spike usually elaborated with invectives.
Spike nodded, jaw muscles flexing under his skin. “I told them to fuck right off, it’s ridiculous. Look, you don’t have to talk to them, I’ll just—”
“Spike, it’s fine. I’m fine now, thanks to last night.” His grip tightened on Spike’s hand, but Spike looked extremely skeptical. “Ok, so I’m not fine,” Angel conceded. “But, better. I can do this. Let’s just not make this worse, ok?”
Spike scoffed and started to light into another tirade, but Angel stopped him with a finger to his lips.
“Just be polite, and let’s get this over with. Okay?”
Spike looked loathe to agree, but he did, and that was all that mattered. The last thing he needed was for Spike to get arrested for being a stubborn ass.
They split up. Spike and Officer Peabody went through the swinging door into the kitchen. Angel stayed in the living room with Officer Green, and answered lots of clarifying questions about his injuries, and how the altercation had begun. Angel tried to just check out of the story emotionally, telling it like it was something he’d seen on tv. It sure as hell sounded like something you’d see on Cops.
“Could you tell me what you saw when William Devlin struck Mike O’Connor?”
“Well, my back was turned, so I didn’t really see it. But I mean, what I do know is that…Mike…had already hurt me so bad, I wasn’t getting back up again. And he just wouldn’t stop, you know? I was vomiting my guts out, and that’s when he broke my tailbone. I think Spike just wanted to, you know, stop him. I think he would have just kept hitting me until….” Angel paused, unsure how far he thought it would have gone. “I dunno. But he wasn’t stopping. Spike just wanted to stop him from hurting me.”
There was a lull as the officer took down notes. From the kitchen, Angel could hear Spike raising his voice.
“Jesus Christ, it was practically a sodding hate crime. Isn’t that illegal in this country??”
Angel winced as Green looked towards the kitchen.
“He’s just…protective,” Angel offered lamely. The man lifted his eyebrows in tacit agreement, but didn’t respond to that.
“Look, it’s pretty obvious from the extent of your injuries, and the limited nature of the injury to your father, that this was a defensive action. Unless your friend in there shoots himself in the foot by behind uncooperative, I doubt we’re going to bring him up on charges.”
It was a relief to hear, though Angel couldn’t fully relax until he and Spike were closing the front door behind the police, and Spike hadn’t punched either of them.
“Fucking red-tape slinging arseholes,” Spike muttered to the door. He followed Angel into the living room, sitting after Angel eased himself onto the cushions.
“Sorry I caused you a hassle,” Angel murmured.
Spike gave him a long look. “I’d do it again in a heartbeat, even if they had arrested me.”
The stubborn set of Spike’s mouth coaxed Angel forward, and he kissed it carefully. The kiss was hardly sexy. Too painful, with his split lip. But it was reassuring, and nice.
Angel hadn’t told Spike he loved him yet. But he would. As soon as he stopped feeling raw and new-skinned. As soon as the moment could hold some joy. As soon as he wasn’t scared shitless of his life.
Not today, in other words. Tomorrow wasn’t looking so hot either.
They both leaned back against the sofa. “Breakfast?” Spike asked.
“Breakfast,” Angel confirmed.
“Fraid cooking is out of the question, so Lucky Charms’ll have to do.”
Angel cringed at the thought of Spike, wielding cookware. “I think I speak for everyone when I say, thank god.”
Spike didn’t pause on his journey to the kitchen as he good-naturedly flipped Angel off.
there's more! I know, lucky you.
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Date: 2006-06-30 12:56 am (UTC)I liked this chapter. It's showing that the boys are in a crappy situation, what with Spike's cravings suddenly coming back and Angel's painful identity crisis combined with his injuries. But at the same time, it is offering some hope that things will get better. I love this story :)
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Date: 2006-06-30 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 01:22 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 01:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 01:55 am (UTC)there are a good number of ups in this chapter, especially compared to the last one. thanks for hanging out and reading, as always. :)
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Date: 2006-06-30 08:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 02:06 am (UTC)This chapter is illuminated by Spike's protective love for Liam.
The stubborn set of Spike’s mouth coaxed Angel forward, and he kissed it carefully. The kiss was hardly sexy. Too painful, with his split lip. But it was reassuring, and nice.
Angel hadn’t told Spike he loved him yet. But he would. As soon as he stopped feeling raw and new-skinned. As soon as the moment could hold some joy. As soon as he wasn’t scared shitless of his life.
I love him giving him the bird, too. That's so Spike, when he's killing himself inside with love for his boy.
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Date: 2006-06-30 02:10 am (UTC)Spike is all protective. it's so cute.
I love him giving him the bird, too. That's so Spike, when he's killing himself inside with love for his boy.
yes! even as he's being all breakfast-making solicitous, the snark is automatic. I love that about him.
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Date: 2006-06-30 03:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 04:02 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 04:52 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 11:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 07:16 pm (UTC)Another wonderful chapter!
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Date: 2006-06-30 10:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-06-30 11:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 12:12 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-07-01 02:56 am (UTC)Liam's crisis is crumpling and it's really affecting. Having your identity pulled out from underneath you like a rug has weakened him and Im glad he has Spike looking after him now.
Eww about the missing tooth. Im a bit weird with pain in mouths.
Interesting that Spike sees parallels between Mike and himself... wonder where that's gonna go...
and also, Liam's guilt over the non-sexy feelings. I like it. Well not like... YAY LIAM FEELS GROSS but i like the sad pitying feelings im getting because they're strong and crisp.
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Date: 2006-07-01 05:21 am (UTC)LOL! you crack me up.
Eww about the missing tooth. Im a bit weird with pain in mouths.
I know, me too! although, I think the concept of his broken, pulpy tooth ooked me out more than when it was missing. <shudders> I think I subconsciously picked two of the most uncomfortable (medium-grade) injuries for me to think about, since broken tailbones suck as well.
Interesting that Spike sees parallels between Mike and himself... wonder where that's gonna go...
it's funny, that aside was totally added in at the last minute when it clicked in my head that I had made the son of an alcoholic fall for a drug addict, and how true to life patterns that was. because when I started writing WBD, that wasn't really conscious. but where I'm going with that, I already had planned.
and also, Liam's guilt over the non-sexy feelings. I like it. Well not like... YAY LIAM FEELS GROSS but i like the sad pitying feelings im getting because they're strong and crisp.
I just liked that you said that. it flattered my writers ego *snerk* thanks. :) Angel's kinda broken at the moment. poor guy. it's a good thing Spike is on his best behavior and is so good about taking care of him. <pets them>
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Date: 2006-08-05 08:06 am (UTC)You GO, girl!!!
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Date: 2006-08-05 11:33 am (UTC)Were he not wounded as badly, there might--might--be potential for some hurt/comfort action, but you done good: he's physically hurt...badly...to the point where it made him vomit, so...no, he's not going to feel like getting it on any time soon.
it's funny, because I thought when I was planning out the story in my head that there was going to be some h/c. but at the time, I didn't know what *kind* of injuries Liam had until I wrote it, and then it just turned out that Liam not only couldn't have sex, he didn't want to. it was a very organic decision...I wasn't going to force the sex when my character wasn't digging it. I'm glad you liked that I let that happen.
because I'm moving right now, I only have a certain amount of time to reply to comments, but I just wanted to say all of yours are lovely. thanks so much for all your kind words :)
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Date: 2006-08-08 06:53 am (UTC)*HUGS*
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Date: 2007-04-29 03:42 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-29 04:09 pm (UTC)his dad...hmmm, we'll see!