TITLE: "Dancing About Architecture" (0b/?) *PREQUEL*
AUTHOR: Marie-Claude Danis
EMAIL: mc@verticalcrawl.com
SITE: http://verticalcrawl.com/fic
FEEDBACK: *pointed look*
DISTRIBUTION: My site, list archives. Or just ask.
SPOILERS: Through S2 of Angel.
RATING: R for m/m nummies.
PAIRING: A/Wm (this part)
SUMMARY: William needs his Sire to deal with his newly regained
humanity.
NOTE: This one's not beta-read. I was just anxious to get
something out. I'm thinking the prequel will have one or two more
parts to it.

This is primarily a Spike/Xander story.
Parts 0a and 1-5 can be found on my site.

"Definitely. Most definitely. Talking about love is like dancing
about architecture." -- 'Playing By Heart'

* * *



It's getting dark out now, and I'm growing hungry, an instinctive
reaction to sunset. But the hunger is easily repressed as I lie
on my stomach with my head on my folded arms. Watching him sleep.

My gaze is fixated on the slow rise and fall of his chest as he
breathes deeply, slumbering, sated. He ate, drank; eventually the
shaking stopped. I undressed him, making sure again that nothing
was broken, and gave him one of my shirts to wear en lieu of his
own dirty clothes. The shirt hung awkwardly on him, and he's
practically drowning in it now, under the thick sheets. I watched
him until he feel asleep, and my eyes haven't left him since.

I rise on my elbows and look at his peaceful face. His skin, of a
disarmingly healthy colour, is offset by the dark blue of the
linen engulfing him. His hair, in a sudden human whimsy, refuses
to be smoothed out and rests in an unruly heap framing his
chiseled features. Pink moist lips are parted, letting out warm
little puffs of air every time his chest falls. Blond lashes rest
on still-flushed cheeks and I think my childe is beautiful. Like
always. My Will.

I lean in and take the full bottom lip between my own, kissing it
softly, lingering there. I know I'm tearing up, and I know Spike
would tease me about it. Warm breath caresses past my lips to
touch my tongue, and I lose it. I'm not sure what I'm crying for.
I'm angry, I'm jealous, I'm lost.. I'm achingly happy for this
boy of mine who gets to live the life he was always meant to
live. I feel panicked, because I might lose him to the humanity
that seems to forever elude me. I feel panicked because I've
grown unused to feeling so strongly. About anything. Not anymore.
But as always, he reached out and unknowingly gripped a part of
me I thought was dead. A part of me I always hated, and try to
stifle myself. How weak I am when it comes to my family. How
malleable Angelus becomes in the hands of his childer, of his
maker.

I settle next to him, spent, wrapping an arm across him securely,
finding the increasingly comforting warmth against the delicate
slope of his neck. I try to be soothed by the blood pumping
through the veins against my mouth. I block out the arguing voice
fighting downstairs, coming to me muffled. I squeeze my eyes shut
tightly.

* * *

"He GROWLED at me, Wesley!"

"Cordelia--"

"I'm so sick of this little family of his marching in here and
messing with his head, turning him all psycho again. It's getting
old!"

"That... that wasn't Angelus."

"The hell it wasn't! Did I mention the growling?"

"There's something you have to understand, Cordelia. Angel IS
fundamentally evil. He is still a *demon*. He doesn't act on it,
but he is. He's still a VAMPIRE. An old vampire, with an
intricate family tree. He can't ignore blood bonds."

"Are you done with the briefing? 'Cause I'm thinking I want to
get out of here but now."

"I don't want to leave him here."

"He's got his boy-toy. He's fine!"

"Cordelia, please..."

"I'm not... I- I won't die this way."

"How?"

"Angel. He's always been a good friend. But I'm... I'm afraid of
him now..."

"I know."

"Why does he do this?"

"He's going to be okay. He's just trying to care for his childe.
It's... it's rather a beautiful display of it. Rarely seen by
human eyes."

"What's wrong with Spike? Why did he come here?"

"He's... I think... Somehow, he's become human again. This has to
be a great shock. He's over 120 years old, and suddenly he's
mortal and free of the evil that's lead most of his life. It's
never happened as far as the Council knows, but in theory I would
guess that such a transformation would take an enormous toll on
him. Naturally, he... he came to Angel. His mentor. His
protector. I doubt he ever even thought about it. This is what he
would do."

"I don't want to be here. I don't want to come between the two of
them again."

"I'll take you back home."

"Will Spike be okay? You think?"

"I think he's in capable hands."



TBC



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