Title: Carry On, Part Two � Believe in the Mission
Author: Inca
I�ll drop trow and take a bow at [email protected]
Rating PG
Angel/Spike
Disclaimer: They don't belong to me, I just like to play with them
Spoilers: Up to 5.22 �Not Fade Away�
Summary: Angel�s a survivor
Authors notes: Robert Service delivered the title, which is also the title of his poem. I thought of it when I read the transcript for �Not Fade Away�.
It is a bit weird, cause I've got the story of the fight running and the story of whats happening now. Try to keep up.
Italics indicate something thats happened in the past.
Angel�s direct thoughts indicated by a tab space.
For more stories by me, come to http://www.geocities.com/slasherphiles/ , slashing 24/6
Fight the good fight and true;
Believe in your mission, greet life with a cheer;
There�s big work to do, and that�s why you are here.
Part Two � Believe in the mission
***
The two sides of the battle crashed together. The demons far outweighed them but they seemed to be holding ground so far.
Angel whipped his sword around like liquid death. He chopped a demons� head off, then swirled, slicing two through the stomach before sliding it smoothly into ones chest.
�Don�t let them get behind us! Its over if we do!� Spike yelled as he whirled his sword around.
Angel watched all three behind him as he fought, making sure no one was overwhelmed. Spike�s lithe body was an advantage against the slow moving attack of their opponents. He circled and ducked, weaving his sword through them
As he used the butt of the sword against a demons� temple, he noticed Gunn faltering. Making sure Spike could hold the side he manoeuvred his way over to them. The demons were sensing Gunn was weak, and so they were attacking him. Gunn was standing, whipping himself around, but they were outnumbering him. Angel kicked one, and stabbed his sword through another.
He kept an eye on Spike who was using a combination of sword and fist to beat them back.
Illyria was poetry. She was made for destruction and did not disappoint. She strode into the tumult, effortlessly taking the demons down. Her power resonated from her as she made a devastating impact on the attackers. Her legs and arms moved quickly and confidently, as she were performing a dance rehearsed and perfected centuries ago.
As Angel fought next to Gunn, he yelled instructions and praise to them. �Illyria, hold that group back � that�s it, Spike take out the big ones legs, get him down! Theres a lot of them, there�s a fuck load of them, but they go down easy!�
Illyria attacked with two swords she had picked up from the fallen, cutting through the mass.
Angel felt powerful. Drunk on Hamilton�s blood, and the bloodlust of the fight, and the pride he felt for the ones he fought beside, he charged, his sword clanging.
***
The light inside the cupboard snapped on. Angel and Spike peered inside.
�Linen on the left, you got your towels on the right. When you use a towel hang it up in the bathroom so it can dry.�
Angel nodded as Spike slid the door closed.
As soon as it had gotten dark Spike had showed him the streets around the apartment. The city was grimy, the air had a particular smell and the buildings were smoked grey by the smog. L.A., Spike had said, was like that. As it turned out, Spike had explained to him on his whirlwind tour of the neighbourhood, Spike didn�t really enjoy L.A., he had wanted to move to New York, but Gunn had held fast, believing they should stay put. That if Angel woke up, he�d want to wake up in L.A.
He took him past the small shops and townhouses cramped together and they began walking through a jungle of tall towers. Skyscrapers reached up into the clouds, and Angel peered up them, vertigo filling his head as he felt like he was falling backwards. Spike had snorted, declaring that the city council was full of tossers, as anyone who would let the buildings get this high on a fault line set the standard for �tosser�. As they stopped in front of a particularly large building, Spike had conspiratorially shared his theory that it would take a disaster to get the council to take building seriously. �Just you watch, another quake like �06 in San Francisco, and everybody will be �Oh no! How could this happen? How could we not foresee this?� And I�ll be laughing, because the council�s full of tossers, do you recognise this building?� After a shaken head answer from Angel, he had nodded silently and they had retraced their steps back home. Once there, Angel had received an in depth training session on things like; where the coffee was kept, how much to put in the percolator, how the filing cabinet downstairs was temperamental, and if you wanted to use the bottom draw you had to coordinate a kick to the side of it whilst pulling the drawer open and up at the same time - all the way to where the linen was kept.
�The showers in there,� He said, pointing at a door to one side, �but don�t use it between 1 and 5 am, cause there�s no hot water then.�
Angel nodded again.
�Right I�m going to bed.�
�You sleep at night?� Angel asked peering at a clock in the hall. 12pm.
He shrugged, �Yeah tonight, I was up all day.� He suddenly peered at Angel�s face intently. �You knew you sleep during the day.�
�Well, I just kinda figured � cause you can�t go out in the day.� Angel apologised.
�Oh,� He frowned, �right then, � goodnight.�
�What should I do?� He asked the retreating figure.
�Don�t give a stuff, do I? Do what you want, I ain�t your keeper.�
Angel watched him wander off into his room. The door clicked closed as Angel stood in the hallway, feeling very lost.
�Right then.� He said softly to himself. He started towards his bedroom, but stopped with his hand flat on the door. He didn�t want to sleep. He�d been asleep for almost three years. He changed his direction to the stairs that led into the office.
***
The office was divided into three large rooms. One, behind a closed door, had mats over the floor, with a small desk stacked with papers in the far corner. A wall fitted with a window separated the other two. The larger of these had a desk in it, with bookshelves lining the wall. The smaller seemed to be a waiting room, as it had the door that fronted onto the street. The waiting room had a few chairs in it, and had a stack of boxes piled up in one corner. All three rooms had the same peeling gray-brown wallpaper and scatty carpet.
Angel went into the room with the desk and sat down at it. There seemed to be a lot of post-it notes stuck around with things like �Ask Gunn about new shipment�, �Check out client �Sophia Newson�, getting a bad feeling� and �No milk 2/3/06�. The bookshelves didn�t just have books; other things decorated them as well. A few photos in simple wood frames caught his eye.
One shelf housed only three photo frames. They were placed with such care, so spotless amongst the clutter of the office that Angel got up to look at them closely. There was one of a beautiful woman with short hair, her eyes wide as she smiled for the photo. The next was a lean man in glasses, looking up from a stack of books on a table, smiling in surprise, and the last was a shy girl with long brown hair, head down eyes peeking up at the camera. Angel placed the photo back on the shelf, almost reverently, knowing there was something important about the photos.
A lower shelf had photos on it too, but these were just scattered about, on top of books, wedged between artifacts. No care was taken placing these photos, no artful display, just there to remember, and smile when you saw them. Most of them had Spike and Gunn in the picture. The fact that they had long been friends came out in the shots. There was a picture of them both in some sort of crowd smiling ecstatically, another of just Spike in the crowd his arms up mouth open shouting something, there was a picture of them both with a green man in a loud suit, a picture of them at what appeared to be a strip club. A picture of Spike pouring beer on a sleeping Gunn, picture of Gunn holding Spike in a head lock.
Friendly, aren�t they. Was I ever this friendly with them?
The door to the office opened, and Angel span around to see a nervous looking man shuffling through the doorway.
�Are you Spike, or Gunn?�
Angel, looking like a deer in headlights, shook his head.
�But uh, one is up� Spike�s upstair� if you want, if you want me to get him for you?�
The man stared at him. �Yes, thankyou.�
�Okay, then, I�ll just go � and get him.� He moved up the stairs, then jogged back down, �Don�t go anywhere?�
The man stared at him, his initial nervousness gone. He didn�t answer, just stood looking confused. Angel jogged back up the stairs. He tripped over the last ones, Gunns shoes being a little too big for him, and then went to Spikes door. Music was playing softly in the room, and Angel knocked.
�Spike?� He asked quietly.
He pushed the door open. The stereo next to Spike�s bed was on, some heavy-guitar-ed song was playing, very quietly, just enough to create a background noise. Angel figured that Spike, who had constantly fidgeted and talked since he met him, who was constantly in motion, probably didn�t like going to sleep when it was death quiet.
And asleep, he was.
He was sprawled out on black sheets, legs spread. His chest was bare, and the light from the hallway licked over it, picking up freckles and muscles. One hand was slung over his stomach, the black on his nails matching the black of the sheets.
Angel stood transfixed as the music throbbed.
Spike�s lips were slightly parted, face resting one cheek on the pillow, his right hand curled lightly next to it. The top sheet hung very low across his hipbones, sliding down a fraction as the vampire shifted in his sleep. The black sheet was a stark contrast to Spike�s frosted skin, black on white, as it dipped to reveal the taut �v� of his lower stomach, and showcase a few wiry dark curls.
Gorgeous, a part of Angel�s brain that was definitely not Practical or Sensible, whispered.
He coughed, trying to wake Spike up without going over to him. Spike�s eyelashes fluttered which caused a flutter to respond low in Angel�s stomach. He shook his head roughly and reached over to snap the radio off.
Spike�s eyes flew open, his pupils diminishing at the backlight behind Angel, the blue of them standing out extraordinarily against the black of his bed.
He blinked a couple of times, sitting up groggily.
�What is it?� he asked, looking very young as he rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands.
�There�s a man downstairs.�
�Oh.� He said, not really comprehending, before repeating it with understanding. �Oh!�
And then he stood up. The sheet fell away, and Spike looked around the dark bedroom for his clothes.
Spike is naked. He is naked.
Angel didn�t know where to look. He backed up so suddenly that he crashed into the opened door. Spike looked at him confused, as he bent to pick up a pair of dark jeans. He started pulling them on.
�Sorry.� Angel stuttered. �I just � sorry, I didn�t see any ��
Spike zipped the jeans up, rolled his eyes and leant across Angel to pick a shirt of the table behind him.
�You�ve seen it before.� He stated simply, clear blue eyes holding his gaze as he pulled on his shirt before turning and going into the hallway. Angel heard him clump down the stairs.
Angel sighed out through his nose, and leant back against the door. He stared at the bed, and realised he had gotten hard in his pants. He shifted the jeans around, wide eyed in surprise, and left the room, closing the door behind him.