AUTHORS: dru & EvilWillow (Go worship the goddess that is EW!)
SERIES: Lost & Found
PAIRING : Angel/Spike
RATING : NC17 (highly
smutty)
DISCLAIMER : We do not own these
characters. We just like putting them in lewd positions!
NOTE : dru wrote Spike, EvilWillow wrote Angel
AUTHOR'S NOTE : unbetaed
=====================================================================
PART
ONE
Mygod.
Another night wasted looking at this stupid slip of paper in my hands.
It's
wrinkled now, too. I've read it and held it and (slept with it during the day) I don't really know why it's such an importan- that's
not true. I do.
I
don't even *need* it any more because I remember now: 546-6712. Angel's phone
number.
*Angel*.
For
seven days, six nights, now, I've sat with this piece of paper. But I still
can't call him.
I
just keep running that night through my head, through my blood… down to my
cock.
And
the one thing I get stuck on is: Angel lied to me.
Angel
came and professed his undying devotion and love for me and told me how much he
wanted me and needed me in LA and he *never* told me he had a kid. He never
mentioned that I'd be second priority.
I'm
the afterthought.
How
the hell was he in gonna be in chains if he has to change a diaper? How the hell
is he gonna fuck me all day, when he's got formula to heat up?
And
I'm *sure* if *he*, Angel the vampire with a soul, had a child with his vampire
back-from-Hell sire, that there's *some* prophecy out there about the damn kid,
just waiting to be fulfilled. Just waiting to take him from me, or take the
baby from *him* which would make him Mr. Broods-For-Life.
So,
thanks. But no thanks.
I
take the piece of paper and throw it into the candle flames.
Unfortunately
though, it doesn't help. I still… 546-6712.
Shit.
I growl and grab my coat as I fly out of the crypt.
"Hey--"
"Since
when do you not KNOCK?!" I snarl as I turn to look at her.
In
typical Cordelia-fashion, she's not even fazed by my temper. And why should she
be? I've been this way for six days... going on seven. Ever since I got back--
"If
you're gonna go all growly on me, you're GOING to pay attention to my
response!" Cordelia demands, stomping her foot. "I know you're
hurting, Angel, but staying in your room all day with Connor isn't going to
help you get back to normal."
Normal?
What exactly is normal? Did I ever have it?
Will
I ever have it?
If
it's not being with Spike, I don't want it.
The
real irony is I only *truly* realized how much I love him when he made me leave
him in Sunnydale. When I felt the same ache inside that reminded me of the ache
I felt the night I left him - them - in China. And then I knew that I have
loved him since some point before that night.
I didn't
expect to. I didn't want to. But I don't think I had a choice in the matter.
The
worst part of it all, is that night, almost one week ago... in a couple more
hours... I discovered someone that both the demon *and* the man in me loved
equally.
So to
me, I think he would've been my normal.
"Would
you stop brooding when I'm in the room?!" she yells. And I know she's
frustrated. I haven't told her what went wrong. How can I admit that *I* ruined
everything, yet again? I just can't. And she hasn't said as much, but I think
she blames herself for pushing me back to Spike.
When
I walked into the Hyperion, I saw it in her eyes. She wanted to apologize. She
didn't, but probably only because I wouldn't talk to her. I just went to my
room. And I've stayed here, with Connor, for the last six days.
"ANGEL!"
she says.
"I
just can't," I say, looking at her sadly. "Not yet. I know you care
and want to help but I just... I just need some time."
She
sighs and nods. "All right. But... " she trails off and shrugs.
"I just don't understand why The Powers would've given me that vision, of
you two here, if it wasn't going to happen." She shakes her head and
leaves again, closing the door behind her.
Connor
starts crying, and I pick him up, grateful for the distraction from thinking
about anything but him.
I'm
sure they won't mind if I just… take a gander in the books. Will they?
They
won't even know I'm here, damn Scoobs. They've all gone home for the night.
AHHA!
There's the book… the Kinagals Volume I? II? I'm not sure. I'll just take 'em
all.
Rupert
hid these from the witches and the slayer. But I payed attention.
Under
lock and key they were, and under heavy magics as well. Wouldn't want just
*any* demon gettin' his hands on the most powerful demonic prophesies ever
recorded. Would we? But I got them. I payed attention to Dru when she broke
spells and I broke the spells Rupert used to cloak them.
And
now they're mine and I'm gonna find out *exactly* what the hell that kid is
doin' here.
I finally
manage to get Connor quieted down again, and he falls asleep. I envy him. I
wish *I* were able to sleep. But I just can't. Not when every time I close my
eyes, I see *his* eyes. Feel his skin...
I
don't want the sweet torture of dreaming about him. I wouldn't be able to stand
waking from that dream. So I just don't sleep. I work, when a case comes up, I
read, and I draw.
And
so what if there's only *one* subject of my sketches for the last nearly seven
days? Every picture ends up ruined by tear stains. So I try again, and again.
And I'll keep drawing him until I have one unflawed picture.
I
called Xander last night. I think I really confused him. What with my fumbling
at small talk, and then asking about Spike, I bet he thought I was evil again.
He all but asked me. But he did finally promise me to check on Spike
occasionally, which was all I wanted.
And
of course I got his promise to tell me if he thought Spike wasn't doing all
that great.
And
since I haven't heard from him, that means Spike's okay. And I'm glad. I meant
what I told him that night. I want him happy and I'd do anything to make him
that way.
Anything
except wish away my son, which I guess is the real issue between us. And I
don't understand that. It's completely different, the way I feel about Connor
and the way I feel about Spike. I love them both, for different reasons, but
they're both my family. And without either one of them, a piece of me is
absent.
I
don't know what I'm going to find- but if two vampires have a human child- it
*had* to have been prophesized. It doesn't just *happen*.
I
don't know why it really ma-
Wrong.
I *do* know.
For
the past week, it's all I've done is know.
I
need to know what's going to happen. I need to know why he has a son and where
I fit into his life, where he could fit into mine.
I
flip another page. It's tough reading. These damn books are written in about
twenty different combinations of demonic languages.
I
wonder how many watchers died when they got *these* books.
Flip another
pa-- now *that's* interesting.
*I'm*
prophesized.
I'm
right here... page 873 in Volume XIII.
Neat.
Okay...
so... oh- no, wait. I'm not breathing.
*This*
child of Angelus... mentioned in the books... is breathing.
So
that means it's... oh.
Oh.
Ohmygod…
After spending twenty-four hours pouring over these… wow.
He… I
grab the cell phone that I lifted off some guy at the Bronze the other night,
and dial 546-6712 quickly.
I
don't know what possesses me to go downstairs, but I do. And nobody acts like
it's any big deal. Cordelia must have trained them well by now.
She
... and Lorne of course, I wish he'd stop reading me without my permission --
they're the only ones who know the reason for my self-imposed isolation. And
I'm sure they made up some excuse to tell the others.
"NO
YOU CAN NOT TALK TO HIM YOU ... YOU... EVIL VAMPIRE!"
Damn
it. "Cordy--"
"I
DON'T CARE IF IT'S THE APOCALYPSE, SPIKE! YOU'RE AN ASSHOLE AND --"
That's
as far as she gets, because I've grabbed the phone from her. Shit.
"Spike?" PleasepleasepleasepleasepleasePLEASE still be on the line!!!
Shit.
It's him.
(And
reminder to self: stay away from Cordelia.)
"..."
I
open my mouth but no sound comes out.
Bloody
stupid I was to think that I could tell him any of this over the phone.
So I
hang up.
I'll
just *go* to L.A.
And
again, reminder to self: stay away from Cordelia.
"SPIKE?!"
I scream at the dial tone.
"WHY
DID YOU DO THAT!" I yell at Cordelia.
"Gee,
sorry, I was just trying to *save* you from that added trauma," she says.
"I mean, you are heartbroken enoooh." She stops abruptly when she
realizes that she just "outed" me to the entire staff of Angel Investigations.
Plus Lorne, but he already knew.
And I
don't care.
I'm
not going to talk about my private life right now anyway. "What's the
current case?" I ask abruptly. I need to forget about the fact that he may
*never* call again.
I
feel like Angel.
I
wish I could *feel* Angel.
But
seriously... I feel like Angel.
I
have guilt.
I
should have at least said something- hello... sorry... I need to talk to you..
*something*.
I
just hung up like a chicken.
Although
I *did* pack up my car right quick and I'm about ten minutes from his *hotel*.
Angelus
is too good for an apartment now. He has a *hotel*.
And I
guess... I at least know my place now. My place in his life... in this world...
in everything.
I
don't know why I even made a big deal out of it before... I shouldn't have. It
just... it rolled me over.
This
past week... I've just been... he has a *son*. I didn't even know he *wanted*
one.
There's
just so much I don't know about him... so much he never knew about me- never asked,
never cared to.
And I
freaked.
And
yes, the prophecies help me... they make me feel better.
Although...
Angel might not like them.
Okay.
And here goes and might I say... bloody hell... this *isn't* a hotel. It's a
friggin' mansion.
But
my sire always did like his space... except when he was buggerin' me. (Then he
liked it *tight*.)
I
park and hop out and... I open the door.
Oh
gods. I feel him. For the first time in a week I feel him. And the feeling is
getting stronger.
Am I
imagining it? Wishful thinking? Or was that why he called? To tell me he was
coming?
Or to
tell me he wanted to get the remainder of his things from the trunk of my car?
And
then suddenly, I feel like I've been punched in the gut. He's here. He's
actually here. I'm standing on the lobby side of the counter, though, so my
back is to him.
But I
don't have to second-guess my knowledge of his presence, because the entire
room just got very quiet.
Except
of course for Cordelia. "Oh, no you don't. You just turn your stupid self
around and get out!" she yells.
"CORDELIA
STOP!" I yell before she can get going and I won't be able to get a word
in edgewise. She just snaps her mouth shut and looks at me. I say, "Don't.
I know you are trying to protect me, and I love you for it. But not now. Not
like this."
And
I'm trying to get up the nerve to turn and look at him, but I don't know if I
can. I look down at my hands and they're shaking, so I shove them in my jeans
pockets.
Note
to self: hire a demon to *kill* Cordelia.
Or at
least a witch to permanently seal her mouth shut.
Of
course, I doubt Angel would like either one.
Boy,
I'm glad *she's* not a witch... I'd be dead by now, with the way she's looking
at me.
"Angelus-"
"His
*name* is *Angel*," she spits at me.
"Yeah,
well... I've known him a *lot* longer than *you* have and he's Angelus to
me."
And
WHY won't he *look* at me?!
"*Angelus*...
I need to talk to you."
Okay,
Angel. You can do this. He made the effort to come here, risked the wrath of
Cordelia even. The least you can do is look at him.
God.
None of my sketches did him justice.
And
he wants to talk, so that would mean I would need to figure out how to do that.
"Sure." Great. Although monosyllabic is probably not what he was
hoping for. It's just not the best of situations, with everyone staring at us.
"Follow
me?" I ask as I walk back to the kitchen. Can't take him upstairs;
Connor's sleeping. I'm definitely not going to try to get the others to leave; they're
working on a case. So this is the best option right now.
Mygod.
He's fuckin' sexy.
Unbelievabley
fuckin' sexy.
And
the bugger knows it too.
Not
at the moment, I'm sure, because he's nervous... as am I.
I
follow him to the kitchen. "Angel... I'm sorry."
I
guess I should get it over with.
"You
*know* how... I get." And I'm sure he remembers how *childish* and
*territorial* I get... especially when it comes to him.
"I
shouldn't have... I mean- I overreacted." I fiddle with my fingers for a
second before adding, "I called... earlier... I-"
"I
know," I interrupt him. "And I...*I'm* sorry that Cordelia started in
on you. I didn't tell her what happened... But she... she gets visions. And
she's pissed that one of them didn't turn out the way she'd told me it would.
And that's no excuse but she's protective of me ..."
And I
know she's NOT what either of us want to talk about right now. "And as
for... you don't have to apologize for needing space, Will. I'm the one who
should be apologizing for slamming you over the head with the fact of Connor
like it was some small detail.
"And
I've thought about it and thought about it, and I don't have any explanation
for why I failed to mention him. I knew - I know - that the fact I have a human
son is something I should've talked about with you *before* I asked you to be
with me. I wasn't fair to you, just throwing it on you and expecting you to
just accept it and --"
Bugger
*this*.
I walk
over to him and plant my lips smack on his. He's startled but I don't care. My
tongue desperately wants to be in his mouth. *I* desperately want to be in his
mouth.
Oh
shit. He grabs my face and tugs on my lower lip with his teeth and I can't help
the moan that escapes. He thrusts his tongue between my lips and I just can't
think of anything other than if I wrap my arms around him, I'm not going to let
him go.
Fuck
it. *He's* the one who kissed *me*... so I wrap my arms around his waist and
hold him as tightly as I can without breaking his ribs. Oh shit, he tastes and
feels and smells so good. Better than I remembered.
I
whimper when he wraps his arms around me and FINALLY!
God,
why was I *so* stupid to think that this wasn't what I wa-
Ohshit.
"Angel!"
I say and start pushing him away.
NO!
What is he DOING to me?!
Why
is he tormenting me like this? And now he wants to leave me again?
But
what can I do? As he pointed out that night, I could never force him to do
anything. So I let him go.
"I've
wanted to do that for... forever."
I
step away because... if I'm *that* close to him... then I'll be thinking about
*other* things. And *not* what I really wanted to tell him. What I *have* to
tell him.
"Then
why--" No. I won't ask that question. I know why. It's the whole reason
that things got all fucked up a week ago. We went on pure emotion without
dealing with anything practical. Like talking about my son.
And
he *did* say he needed to talk to me. "Nevermind," I say. "Go
ahead."
"I
have the Kinagals' Prophecies."
Oh.
"How
did you--" Not important. "And?"
"Rupert-
I saw them one day. One of the volumes. He must have been given them once
Slutty was stronger... perhaps they detailed Glory? I don't know.
"But
it doesn't matter. They- there's references... to Connor."
And
if he's here... instead of calling - well, he did *try* to call. So maybe it's
not as bad as I think it might be... But by the look in his eyes, I'm not sure.
I
pull out a chair and sit down, because all of this: seeing him, touching him,
tasting him, hearing his voice... it's all so much. And now he's here to tell
me something about Connor.
But
I'm not sure whether I want to know what he has to say. Wesley's all gloom and
doom about my son; I just don't know if I want him to be right. He's my *son.*
And he's the only thing in the past week that's kept me from sitting on the
roof and watching the sunrise. He needed me and that was enough to keep me from
putting myself out of the misery the past seven days has been.
"Spike...
I... if it's bad, I don't want to know." And I know that goes against
everything I'm supposed to stand for. My duty is to *stop* evil things from
happening. But...
He's
my *son.*
"There's... fifty pages on
him."
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