Prompt 93 - Peace Offering - BtVS

[thismaz]

I missed laazikaat's bithday, so although I can't really say I wrote this for you, hon, because I'd have had to write it anyway, I did write it with you in mind. Happy belated Birthday.

 Title: Peace Offering
 Fandom: BtVS
 Prompt: 93-Chimera
 At: tamingthemuse
 Rating: Older Teen
 Summary: Part 32. Set during the summer before season 1, Xander's life is changed radically when vampires invade it. In the meantime Angel and Spike have their own, separate agendas.
 Word Count: 1,770
 Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
 Previous parts: In reverse order, in tags here In my memories.
 Or, starting here with links to the next, at the end of each chapter.
 Disclaimer: here.
Now beta'd by the wonderful laazikaat

Warning (highlight the white area to see the warning text):

Vamp Xander story

dark_amia made a wall paper and she turned it into a banner for me. Lookee here -

Isn't it pretty?

32. Peace Offering

Sunday evening

By the time Spike got up and wandered into the living room, Angel had put the bottle of Glenmorangie back where it belonged and was nursing a glass in one hand as he pretended to read the only interesting looking book he'd found on the small shelf behind the television. He'd armed himself with the book and the glass, as things to hide behind, knowing that sitting with no occupation would make him uncomfortable during the confrontation to come.

Spike appeared to be still half asleep, scrubbing his hands through his hair before he started buttoning up the red silk shirt he had obviously just pulled on. He glanced across at Angel, nodded, and tilted his head to read the book's title. "The Chimera," he said "Hmm." Angel turned it around to check the cover. "'S okay," Spike observed. "Got some nice torture scenes, but it's not that great. 'Course if you read it in the Italian..." He paused as if in thought. "Nah, still not much cop. Oh, and I forgot. Languages... not your thing, are they?"

Doing his best to suppress his irritation at Spike's taunt, Angel still found himself rising to the bait. "I read French!"

Spike grinned. "Yeah, just about," he agreed. He paused by the easy chair. "Where's Dru?" he asked.

"Still asleep."

"Oh. Right. Okay then." Spike acknowledged. He looked around again. "And where's Merlin?"

"Gone." Off Spike's suspicious look, Angel confirmed, "I let him go."

As he'd expected, that news was not taken so calmly. "Bloody hell!" Spike exploded. "Why the fuck d'you do that? I had plans for him."

There was often satisfaction to be found, Angel reminded himself, in frustrating his grandchilde. It was a small satisfaction, but in his present position he would treasure each and every one. Mirroring Spike's earlier tone, he observed innocently, "You don't like magic."

With a growl, Spike snatched up the Jack Daniel's from the bureau, twisted off the cap and tossed it over his shoulder. "You're about a hundred years too late to tell me what I do or don't like," he snarled, lifting the bottle and taking a swig.

Suppressing a smirk, Angel maintained his casual front. "You said you'd let him go."

"Didn't mean it, did I? Do you have any idea what a chaos sorcerer tastes like? It's nearly as good as slayer blood! That one under the school..." He trailed off as another thought apparently struck him. "Oh, shit! This means I've gotta go out later, too. Was planning on him being enough for all of us, for t'night."

Shaking his head sorrowfully, Angel finally allowed his amusement to show. "Planning?" he asked, incredulously. "You don't plan, Spike. You react. You always have." He threw his book aside. "I on the other hand," he continued, "now have a chaos mage who owes me a debt of gratitude. Ethan could be a very useful resource and as such, was not to be wasted just to save you some effort. I made sure he'll pay, when the time comes. The watcher was right, he knows how to make a deal." He felt his smirk broaden. "But then, so do I," he added.

Slumping down in Dru's chair, Spike took another gulp of Jack. He spent a moment savouring the flavour before his Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "This is my bloody house, Angelus. I'd remind you t'keep that in mind. You just fucked up my quiet evening at home, y'bastard! I've a good mind to let you starve, since you robbed us of a ready meal. Don't need you healthy to do the ritual, you know?"

"You might not need me healthy, but it'd make your life easier if I was," Angel shot back. "And you do need me to make sure Dru eats between now and then."

Spike sat up straight in his chair with a snarl. "And that's another thing. No more going off to bed to feed Dru. From now on, you do it right here, where I can make sure you're doing it right."

Narrowing his eyes, Angel considered his grandchilde's angry face. It was time to put forward his proposal, but he needed to do it carefully. "I'll make a deal with you," he suggested. "I'll stay in here while I feed Dru, but in return there will be no repeat of last night. From now on, you get me blood from Mears, at the hospital. You do that and I'll keep Dru in line." Spike had calmed slightly as Angel made his suggestion, although the taunt at the end, as Angel had intended, caused his hackles to rise again. Winding Spike up was so easy that Angel didn't even try to resist the impulse to continue needling. "Poor Spike," he said with totally false sympathy, twisting the knife in his victim's wound. "Always second best. Never could hold his sire's attention for long." He shook his head mournfully and voiced his judgement. "Totally whipped!"

But it appeared he had over played his hand, because instead of getting more frustrated, Spike seemed to relax. "Like you were any different," he observed with a smirk of his own. "Always crawling after Darla's apron strings." He raised his bottle in a mock toast. "I've learnt a few things in the last hundred years" he explained. "And one of the things I've learnt is to see the world as it is. Darla had you as whipped as Dru has ever had me."

Suddenly the pleasure went out of the game and Angel sighed. "Yeah, I think she did," he agreed. "Until she threw me out of the house in China, cursing both my face and my name."

That elicited a surprised jerk of the head from Spike. "She threw you out?" he asked. "You mean, you didn't just leave?"

"Is that what she told you?"

"Yeah, as she threw us out after you. Said any childe of yours would be as faithless and that she never wanted to see us again."

Angel smiled. "And look at you now," he said, "all grown up and independent. You could say I did you a favour, back then. You'd never have got out from under Darla, if she hadn't wanted you to." He grinned. "She's have dragged you back to the old man's court and you'd have been stuck there, with Dru playing seer to his every whim." He felt a laugh beginning to form as he continued his thought. "And if she'd been there, he might not have got himself stuck like a cork in a bottle, when the hellmouth closed on him."

As the first snigger finally escaped Angel, Spike began to chuckle. In a moment they were both laughing at the image of Heinrich Nest, face even more distorted for being squashed up against glass.

Spike shook his head. "Right," he agreed. "Not sorry I missed that little adventure." He raised the Jack Daniel's and Angel returned the toast with his own glass. "Cheers, mate."

"Cheers." Taking a sip, Angel picked up his book again. "So," he suggested. "Hospital? Blood that won't attract Luke's attention?"

Spike's eyes narrowed speculatively. "Not afraid I'll drug it again?"

"No, you've got what you want. I'm here and I'll help with Dru, so there's nothing for you to gain from doing that."

Spike's mouth twisted into a grin of acknowledgement. He nodded towards the television. "Might find that more interesting than Italian village politics and corruption," he observed. "The characters are no more real, but at least you don't have to work so hard for it. You're sure to find something you like, everything from porn to opera, at your finger tips." Angel looked at him doubtfully and Spike laughed again. "Fuck you," he observed as he got up and walked across the room to the hall door. "Do what y'like. I'm going to get Xander up and we'll go out and get you your blasted blood." He paused with one hand on the doorknob and turned back to Angel, the smile fading from his eyes. "And you keep your paws off Xander too. Got it?"

Nodding wearily, Angel agreed, "Yeah, I've got it. Don't worry, I won't try and touch him."

'Xander,' Angel thought as he watched Spike leave. 'It's Xander, not Jeb. And even if it was Jeb...' Since the night Spike drugged him and dressed Xander up, Angel had been tormented by 'what if's' around that close call. Jeb hung so heavily on his conscience, not only because of the life lost, but also for the acts of degradation he had indulged in with the boy. He remembered that lesson, learnt early by Liam and learnt well: men rutting together was a sin beyond forgiveness. He didn't usually allow Liam's memories the freedom of his conscious mind, but the image of two boys, beaten to death by their fathers with every member of the village knowing full well the why's and the wherefore's, no one raising a voice in protest when a tinker was blamed and taken to trial, that memory had surfaced regularly in the decades since Rumania.

As Darla had once said, Liam's life had shaped him as much as the two hundred and more years since it had ended. Liam had been fifteen or sixteen at the time and he'd taken great pains over the next ten years to ensure that his own father heard of his adventures with the slatterns in the tavern. Spike had no soul; he didn't know that what he did was wrong. The fact that Angel had not had a soul when he'd bedded Jeb might act as some excuse, but he had one now. Xander was safe from him. As was Spike.

And Dru... Dru was his childe, he'd made her, but he'd only had her for twenty years. Spike had cared for her for much longer.

Thinking about his childe and his grandchilde, Angel knew that regardless of Spike's own acceptance of a hundred years of devotion being tossed aside, Angel himself could not judge it the same. It was true that he'd never released Dru, but even so, his sense of justice told him that he'd done Spike a wrong by bedding her. Plus, he'd never liked to share. Before, he'd kept Dru from William whenever Darla wasn't demanding his attention. It had been amusing, watching William's face as Dru pulled away from him and clung to Angelus. But now Angel understood the devotion Spike had given Dru and he acknowledged that it had earned Spike his place at her side and in her bed. He would, he resolved, withdraw from the field. Let Spike have the reward he had earned.

Continued here.

Comments

[smwright.livejournal.com]

Oops. Sorry!

I have to admit that I enjoy it when Angel (feels like/assume that he) is in control. This chapter is a nice display of his cunning and the subtle props he'll often use to demonstrate his cool façade in the face of an "opponent," even is that opponent is family.

I also like the manner in which you reveal the grudging honesty (or is it integrity?) at the end re: Dru. That Angel recognizes and appreciates Spike's different place with Dru - and acts accordingly - is a nice touch. This tendency is also evident in Angel's admission re: Darla earlier. I think these two things are, taken together, just one example of why this chapter works so well from beginning to end.

Nice ploy to get his way in the end. ;) We'll see how that works out for him!

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

when Angel (feels like/assume that he) is in control.
I think one of the things I am most enjoying about this story is exploring the dynamic between Angel and Spike. I am calling it a S/X story, but in many of the most important ways it is really A/S, or at least A,S. *g*

honesty (or is it integrity?)
Good question. I'm not sure I know the answer, or at least, I'm not sure I know how to phrase the answer. Maybe it is just that with a soul, he is able to make the imaginative leap and place himself in another's shoes, while without one, he could not?

Thank you.