| After: Blue Moon by Shiver |
| Rating: NC-17 Pairing: A/S Spoilers: Everything, including “Not Fade Away” (AtS: S5) Notes: The show is now over, but since I received so many positive comments on the series, I’m going to continue with it as long as the Muse cooperates and there is continued interest. Hell, I probably won’t even need the interest. My Muse is kind of a bitch that way. Thanks, and thanks for reading. - - - - - “So, I already know most of your story from the forums,” Mr. Jupiter said. BigSkyCowboy and his wife are trying to get everyone lined up to get you where you need to go.” “We really do appreciate it,” Angel repeated for the fifth time since boarding the truck. “Well, it sounds like you boys are trying to keep the world from blowing up. Or monsters from eating us all, or whatever,” Mr. Jupiter said, “and that’s a cause I have no trouble supporting.” He laughed at his own joke, and Spike leaned forward. “So what’s your special talent?” he said. “Driving trucks,” Mr. Jupiter replied, laughing again, then he grew serious. “It was actually my daughter who was in the society. She… she was what they call an empath. She felt other people’s pain, as bad as they did. She couldn’t control it. Like if someone near her broke a bone, she’d feel the throbbing, a little at first, then worse and worse the longer she was near them.” “That must have been a great burden for her,” Illyria said. “Yeah,” Mr. Jupiter said. “That’s why I had her travel with me. So we could always keep moving if we had to.” He fell into a tense silence, clearly not wanting to go on, but at last he said, “I couldn’t save her, though.” “How did she die?” Angel prompted. Mr. Jupiter sighed. “We got into a traffic jam. Total gridlock, and as we crept along, my baby was in more and more pain.” He sighed more deeply. “It was a car crash. A family of six scattered and broken all over the road. My little girl died of heart failure brought on by all that pain.” They drove on in silence, and after several minutes Spike silently coaxed Angel to lie down, so they could both get some rest. - - - - - Angel slept restlessly, vivid dreams, or “vision hangovers” as Cordelia had called them, awakening him at random intervals. He could hear Illyria and Mr. Jupiter talking in the cab ahead of them, the man talking about his child, her gifts, her life and her death. Occasionally, Illyria would ask a question, and while these interjections showed an almost touching innocence, Angel couldn’t help but think how clearly they demonstrated a cleaving between what Illyria was and the rest of humanity. “How do you know what you felt for her was love?” was one question that drove Angel to full wakefulness, and would have driven him from the bed to chastise Illyria for her callousness, had not Mr. Jupiter answered, “Because I cared more about her than I did about myself.” There was a moment of silence, and Angel could imagine Illyria cocking her head to the side, trying to figure this latest riddle out. “I wanted her to be strong, and happy,” Mr. Jupiter went on, then. “If I could have given up these things myself for her, I would have. But I couldn’t. So I just remember her, how she was, and try to live as she would have wanted me to.” “I think I’m beginning to understand,” Illyria said. “There was one who I wished to please.” “One of the vampires?” “No. Another. But I do not understand myself enough to say if it was love.” And she fell silent again. - - - - - Mr. Jupiter pulled into a truck stop a few hours past sunset. Angel and Spike had woken sometime before, so Mr. Jupiter simply told his three passengers to let him sleep, and he’d see them in the morning. Angel, Spike, and Illyria went to the nearby picnic area, and sat at one of the tables. “I tire of this travel,” Illyria said. “It is time-consuming and tedious.” “I’m right with you, there,” Spike said. “I’m not choosing these visions,” Angel said, an edge coming to his voice. “But, hey, don’t feel like I’m dragging you along. You’re free to go whenever you want.” Spike reached across the table, put his hand over Angel’s. “I won’t do that,” he said, giving each word a pointed emphasis, and the tension drained a little from Angel’s face. “I know,” he said. “This has just been hard on all of us.” “I know,” Spike agreed, and he leaned over to kiss Angel gently. “I am free to go?” Illyria said, and the two men turned to her. “I doubt we could hold you even if we wanted to,” Angel said seriously, “but, yes, you’re free to go.” She appeared to consider this for several moments, until Spike said, “do you want to leave?” “I do not know,” Illyria said. “It is not a possibility I had considered.” She stood and faced them. “I will think about this. We will discuss more tomorrow.” And then she walked into the deep shadow of the trees beyond the yellow pools of light given off by streetlamps over the picnic grove. “That was interesting,” Spike said. Angel let his head fall into his hands. “I guess,” he said. “Jesus. What’ll we do if she goes?” “Fuck a lot more?” Spike said hopefully, and Angel chuckled lightly. “Do you know what I want to do?” Spike said thoughtfully. “I want to go hunting with you, like we did in the old days.” When he had Angel’s attention, Spike gestured towards the woods. “There are deer in there,” he said. “They’re only a little bigger than humans. But fresh blood, Angel. Spiced with fear and running hot.” He gave his most seductive look. “You know you want to.” Angel caught himself before he started to drool. “Let’s go,” he said. - - - - - They walked a few hundred yards into the trees, and Spike stopped in a small clearing where the grass was soft. “We should take off our clothes,” he said. “We don’t have much, and bloodstains won’t come out.” Angel took a breath to argue, realized that he really didn’t want to, and nodded instead. They undressed quickly, Angel folding his clothes neatly and Spike just letting his scatter. “Follow me,” Spike whispered, and he melted into the shadows. They found a small group of deer grazing in the moonlight and watched, wordlessly, as one doe strayed a bit away from her companions. The vampires moved through the underbrush to put themselves between her and the herd, watched as she raised her head, sensed the danger without seeing it and moved further into the woods. Angel caught Spike’s eye and knew they shared a thought: Just like a human. The doe picked her delicately through the trees, and the two predators deliberately drove her on, away from those who might protect her. They kept far back, and apart, just close enough to keep her heart beating a little faster, the adrenaline trickling through her veins. As she walked, the vampires followed, gradually moving closer to her. Angel and Spike watched each other, too, the old habits returning as though not a day had passed since they last hunted together. But then, the hunting grounds had been an ugly, dirty town in Eastern Europe, and the quarry a drunken gambler who had lost most of his teeth and smelled of sour cabbage. The doe came to a stream and stopped at its edge. The moving water seemed to sweeten the air, clearing the ozone from the nearby highway, and the sound of it over the rocks seemed to calm the animal. She lowered her head to drink. From either side, the vampires leapt at her. She brought her long legs together, and they acted like a spring, propelling her straight up. Angel grabbed for her head, bent it back, and Spike drove his fangs in between her vertebrae, just where her back curved up into her neck. She landed, already dead, though she didn’t know it, and collapsed slowly, gracefully, onto the pebbled edge of the stream. Angel tore into the soft part of her throat just below her jaw and drank greedily, hot draughts of the doe’s blood filling his mouth and throat. Spike ripped a jagged hole in her stomach and sucked from the thick arteries nearest her heart, heedless of the blood and gore that spattered over him. The blood was good, better than either had tasted since their soulless days. The hunt and the wilderness seasoned the feast like no spice ever could, and they drank until their bellies were stretched tight, like well-fed puppies. Angel rolled into the grass with a groan of pleasure, while Spike simply rested against the doe’s slowly-cooling flank. “That was great,” Angel said. “I really needed that.” “I completely agree,” Spike said. “In fact, let’s forget about the whole mission thing and just stay here. We’ll live like the wolves did before the settlers wiped them out.” “That sounds good,” Angel said sleepily. They dozed for a bit, then rose and washed in the chilly water of the stream. They re-traced their own footsteps to the clearing where they’d left their clothes, and Angel had to laugh at Spike’s outrage that his strewn garments were wet and cold from the pre-dawn dew. Illyria was waiting for them at the truck. “Is Mr. Jupiter still asleep?” Spike asked. “No. He’s gone to use the washroom,” she told them. All three stared at each other until Angel finally said, “what have you decided?” “I am staying with you,” Illyria said. “For now.” She lowered her eyes, frowned. “I have no place or purpose, except with you.” “I’m glad you’re staying,” Angel said. Illyria looked away, uncomfortable and confused. - - - - - They entered Tupelo city limits after 10 that night, and pulled up beside a darkened building. There was a light rain falling. “You’re staying with a man named Cleophus James,” Mr. Jupiter said. “I’ve actually met with him a few times on runs. He’s an alright guy.” The door to the building opened, and they could see a man silhouetted in the light from within. He opened an umbrella and walked toward the truck. Mr. Jupiter lowered his windows and they looked down into the face of an elderly black man, framed with white tufts of hair, like cotton. “Good evening,” the man said. “I take it these are our charges.” “Yep,” Mr. Jupiter said. “This is Angel, Spike, and Illyria. Guys, this is Reverend James.” “Reverend…” Spike repeated under his breath. “You’d best all come inside,” the Reverend said. “Thanks, but I can’t,” Mr. Jupiter said. “Maybe on the way back.” Angel opened the passenger door, climbed out followed by the others, and they all trailed after Rev. James. Spike, lagging back, caught Angel’s arm. “What?” Angel whispered at him. “We’re going to be trapped,” Spike hissed back. “All day. Inside a church.” Angel took Spike’s hand, felt the unconscious resistance, and even more subtle, the slightest shiver. “It’s okay,” Angel said reassuringly. “Are you mad?” Spike said, and Angel pulled him closer. “I’m here,” he said into Spike’s ear. “I’ll protect you.” He felt the younger vampire relax, very slightly, but enough to move him through the wooden door and into the church. |