Archive of Our Own ^beta

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They’d been hiding for two years.

Not that either of them used that word. Angel knew they were both too proud to call it that. But that’s what it was. They were the only two left standing from the battle against the Senior Partners, and Wolfram and Hart had eyes everywhere. 

They didn’t discuss the fact that Spike tagged alongside Angel, either. It just… it had seemed like a familiar pattern, bookending their entire history together. Spike had followed Angel as a fledge, and he’d followed him into battle in LA.

And after LA fell, he’d just never stopped following.

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There were Slayers in pretty much every country now. And Angel knew, because he could feel a shiver of dread run up his spine every time he got near one. Buffy and Faith aside, he’d always tried to stay well away from them.

And Spike, who used to seek them out purposely to kill them, must just be going crazy.

But, that didn’t mean there weren’t still a good number of demons to track down and kill and suck the marrow from. Not that Angel did much marrow-sucking. Again, that was more Spike’s thing. He always liked trying new things.

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It was a little weird, sometimes, Spike’s puppy-dog act, and Angel was never sure if he was touched or irritated by it. Spike still got on his nerves, but he always had Angel’s back. Sometimes he would drift off by himself for a couple weeks to a nearby city of whatever country they were in, but he always drifted back before Angel moved on.

Other times Angel actually ordered him away, to follow up on demon sightings. He expected Spike to grumble and fight back, but he never did.

Spike just took it under the chin, and dealt with it.

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Angel wouldn’t have thought he’d have to worry about springtime, and London, and Spike being surrounded by both, but there it was.

At least when Spike talked back Angel could just slap him back in his place.

But this Spike was standing in open doorways, tips of his boots just daring the sun to come touch him, and he stopped to admire flowers when they were out. 

“You can’t even enjoy them properly at night,” Angel informed him. “They're just fool’s gold in the dark.”

“Haven’t the foggiest idea what you’re on about,” Spike sniffed.

Even his accent was different.

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Spike was being affected by his human memories. That had to be it. Being in his hometown again after however many years was starting to confuse him.

Angel shuddered at the thought, and didn’t envy the dark void of memory that his grandchilde must be facing. He himself already struggled to keep Angelus and Liam locked up tight, and he didn’t dare look in their cages.

But all sympathy for Spike disappeared in a flash when Spike came home from a rainstorm one day, shaking his wet coat and grinning.

“Can see the flowers when it’s overcast,” he said smugly.

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One word from Spike’s lips, and everything became clear. 

He hadn’t said it since last they’d been in Rome. Honestly, Angel had thought he’d finally gotten over it; actually moved on, like he said he would. Angel himself had even forgotten it, some days, which really showed how much better he was doing. 

Angel had actually kinda thought Spike had forgotten, too.

But they were sitting in a car, on a stakeout, and Spike was fidgeting. He’d never been a patient guy.

“This is bloody stupid,” Spike sighed. “Haven’t done one of these in years. Last time was with… Buffy.”

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Buffy.

Spike was still thinking about Buffy. 

And suddenly, it was all Spike could talk about. Idle musings on what she was doing, where she was, how she was getting on.

“So, what, after all this time letting her move on with her life, you’re just gonna look her up anyway?” Angel snapped.

And Spike’s face got very sad, and then very stony and impassive, and he shook his head. “Nah, mate. Done with that business. Just… wonderin’, is all.”

He still loved her. And Angel found proof in Spike’s old notebook.

It was filled with snippets of new poetry.

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Angel had been hearing so much about Buffy lately that he swore there was the sound of a record scratch in his head when he actually saw her one day.

Angel was on his own then, fortunately, and he  just stopped and stared at her across the street, and she looked up and froze when she saw him, too.

Angel considered disappearing behind a bus, but she was already crossing over to him. “Angel?” she said. “I thought you were in LA.”

“I thought you were in Rome,” he countered. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Business trip. I’m going back tonight.”

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Their conversation was short and stiffly polite. Angel felt like he should be happy to see her again, but all he could think when he looked at her was that this was some kind of sign… Spike speaking so wistfully about her all of a sudden, and now here she was, standing right there.

No. Maybe she was just a Jezebel; falsely prophesying something to come. Angel refused to be swayed by it. 

He also refused to bring up Spike before they parted. There was no reason to bring him into this, when Buffy might think he was still dead.

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As Angel continued on his way, however, looking back over his shoulder occasionally to see the swish of her blonde hair as she walked, he couldn’t stop the thoughts creeping over him.

She’d seemed… odd. Sad eyes staring right through him as she spoke. A gust of wind had gathered her hair and tucked a leaf in it, and she’d laughed and twirled it in her fingers before letting go.

It was striking how similar she and Spike had seemed right then. She was acting just as lonely and wistful and romantic… like they’d been cut from the same cloth.

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Even though Buffy said she was returning to Rome that night, Angel couldn’t risk it. He told Spike they were leaving, and they snuck away on a midnight train to France. 

Spike fell asleep almost immediately, arms folded tightly against himself, as if hugging his coat close to ward off the cold he couldn’t feel. He was squeezed against the side of his seat, his head falling to one side, and even in sleep there were concerned lines across his face.

And Angel just watched him from the other bench, an uncomfortable feeling growing ever more steadily in his chest.

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Angel was losing too much, and far too quickly, it felt like. In the span of eight years he’d met and loved and lost so many people, some multiple times, and officially, Spike was the only one Angel had left. 

The family member he’d never wanted. The pain in the ass that never got less annoying, the one person who enjoyed the blood and gore as much as he did. The friend and companion who hadn’t let him be alone for one second in all of this. 

The last one standing, and the last one Angel was going to lose.

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He’d never have done it if Spike had been conscious, but Angel very much felt the need to protect someone in that moment, and keep himself from losing them, or getting them killed, somehow. He moved over to Spike’s seat, sliding in next to him, and guiding his head to his shoulder.

Spike didn’t stir, but fell against him unresistingly, and Angel just kept his hand on that pale hair and pressed his head close. 

Buffy and Spike were both alive, both single, both still clearly missing the other. 

It was time for Angel to get out of the way.

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“We’re going to Rome,” Angel announced, as they stepped off the train.

“You off your bloody gourd?” Spike demanded, tripping along after him. “We’ve only just arrived! And what’s in Rome, anyhow?”

“I think you know,” Angel replied, without looking back. 

He marched up to the ticket stand, and the little old lady handed him a pen to sign his receipt.

Angel swallowed as he looked at the black feathers protruding from the bottom of the pen. He didn’t know much about magic, but he knew the symbol for ending . 

Angel turned back around, and Spike promptly punched his nose.

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“You stupid sod!” Spike roared. “You give me the big speech about not chasing after her, and you’re going to do just that?”

“No,” Angel said, through clenched teeth. “I’m taking you to her, you moron!”

Spike frantically shook his head, tears pricking his eyes. “She won’t want me,” he said quickly. “She… she’s moved on, she’s happy, she doesn’t even know I’m alive, she…”

“Save it for the train, Spike,” Angel snapped. Out of all the reactions Angel thought he’d have, he hadn’t expected Spike to panic . “Because if we miss this one I may just change my mind.”

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Buffy’s reaction was a little more predictable. 

She opened her door, and all the color drained from her face, while anger filled her eyes. Her gaze darted between the two of them, finally landing on Angel. 

“What the hell?” she asked, in a terrifying voice.

“He didn’t… stay dead,” Angel said.

“Really.”

“This wasn’t my idea,” Spike protested.

“Really,” Buffy said again. “It wasn’t your idea to let me know you’re alive after three years of thinking you were gone forever?” 

Her words were filled with bitterness, and Angel wondered if they should have let her know sooner, after all.

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Angel really hadn’t considered that they’d stage such an uprising when they were reunited. But how could anyone blame him? Last time he saw them together, they still hated each other; they were trading barbs and quips and threats and hits below the belt. He had no idea what being in love looked like for them, nor what a reunion would entail.

Apparently, it was more of the same. He sat on the couch and watched Spike and Buffy bicker and shout like they always had.

He felt sick as he wondered just how long ago they’d fallen in love.

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“You should have told me sooner,” Buffy snapped, turning to Angel.

“You shouldn’t have interfered,” Spike bellowed at him.

“You shouldn’t have—” Buffy started, but Angel stood up, and crossed his arms, leaning over both of them. 

“You’re here now ,” he fired back. “I’ve watched you two and had to hear you and sense you and hear about you from everyone else, and I’m done being the bad guy. I know you two want each other, so, Buffy, thanks for opening up Hotel Hell to us, because Spike and I will be staying here until you two figure this out.”

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For several days, they acted like caged animals. Furious, prowling, sizing each other up, and throwing death glares towards Angel every chance they could.

But Buffy didn’t kick them out, and Spike made no threats to leave. And walls were being broken. Usually by one of them kicking it in, but still.

“Must have been a terrifying ghost,” Buffy snapped one day. “I bet you never stopped talking to yourself.”

“I damn well did! Had Fred to talk to! She’s… she’s gone now, though.”

Buffy stopped aggressively setting the table, and looked up sympathetically. “Oh… I’m sorry.”

“Appreciate that, love.”

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The fights and threats and bad moods continued for a little bit longer, but Angel was starting to notice Buffy finding little ways to do things for Spike.

She switched out the lace curtains in his bedroom for thicker, darker ones. She bought spicy groceries and some kind of weird cracker that Spike liked to put in his blood. She taped his soap operas that he liked to watch.

Angel was learning all kinds of things that Spike had picked up since falling in love with Buffy. It was kind of hilarious, how much Buffy had managed to domesticate him.

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Eventually, Spike and Buffy’s barbs at each other were clearly nothing more than smoke and mirrors, and they were only keeping it up because they were the most stubborn people on the planet. And Angel was stuck with them, somehow.

But Buffy would smile as she teased Spike’s fashion sense, and Spike would protest how much he hated her hair, while leaning close to sniff it.

Buffy liked going out onto the porch after dinner to watch the sunsets, and there finally came a night where Spike paced the back door for ten minutes, before slipping out to join her.

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“What the hell are you watching, Slayer?”

“Dancing with the Stars . You’ll like this episode. It’s Goth Night.”

“Meaning there’ll be a crew of nancy boys parading around in vampire get-up,” Spike snorted, but he sat on the couch next to her anyway.

Angel had been bracing himself for the cold, lonely feeling of being a third wheel, while two people he knew better than anyone rekindled their love in front of him. 

But oddly he’d only felt a sense of detachment throughout all of this.

Especially when he saw them falling asleep together like the children they still were.

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Angel knew he had to let them go… knew he was being crowded out, and he’d have to leave them by themselves sooner or later.

But even though he was feeling more disconnected from them every day, and even though he was sure they were on the right path now, he felt like he was still waiting for something. He needed to know for sure they’d be okay.

It happened on the porch one night, when Buffy whispered quietly to Spike, “I meant it.”

Angel didn’t know what she was talking about, but Spike immediately leaned over and kissed her.

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After that kiss, they couldn’t get enough of each other. It became all sweet nothings and kisses out of nowhere, and cuddling and giggling on the couch. It became loud sex-athons in the bedroom next to Angel’s, it became poetry constantly streaming out of Spike’s mouth while Buffy batted her eyelashes.

“Missed you to the moon and back,” Spike informed her.

“You didn’t go to the moon, did you?”

“No… but that would be a right holiday. No sunshine…”

“You mean you wouldn’t be bringing me with you?”

Surely when Buffy and Angel had dated they’d never been this ridiculous.

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He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t a little bit jealous.

But he’d moved on— or tried to— a while ago. With Cordelia, with Darla, with Nina. Buffy was a thing of the distant past… and he had an actual son now, instead of Spike who was only family by a technicality. 

He’d never wanted someone like Spike for Buffy. But Spike had… proven that he really cared for her, and was striving to be better. And if Buffy wanted to tether herself to that bleached pain-in-the-ass for the rest of her natural life, she could.

He trusted them.

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So, he gave them up.

And surprisingly, they looked worried when he told them he was ready to go.

“Angel,” Buffy whispered, from where she was comfortably leaning against Spike’s side. “Are you gonna be okay?”

“I’ve lived longer than both of you put together,” Angel said. “And I’m stronger than you both, too.”

Spike snorted. “Not many stronger than Buffy, mate.”

Angel glared at him. “I’ll be fine.”

“It’s just…” Buffy bit her lip.

Spike smirked. “Worried about you not having yours truly tagging along anymore. Out there in the wide world, all by your lonesome…”

“I’ll be fine .”

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“Look,” Angel said, and gave a huge sigh, and looked up at the ceiling. “I’m only gonna say this once, so you’d better pay attention.”

“Think we’re in trouble?” Spike whispered loudly to Buffy. She just swatted his chest.

“I think,” Angel said slowly. “That my path is to be alone. It always has been. Fighting the good fight… or the bad, depending on which century we’re in, it’s really always been mine to do alone. I’ve had my vampire family. I’ve had the Scoobies. I’ve had Angel Investigations. But they come, and they go, and I’m meant to continue.”

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“But you ,” Angel continued. “ You two, you need more than that. You don’t thrive in darkness… you just work there. You need the romance, the sunshine, the flowers. You need someone to stand by your side, and have your back, and you need that person to be consistent.” 

He shrugged helplessly. “You’ve both followed me because you needed someone to look up to. But you don’t need to follow anyone anymore. You’ve got each other, and you’re each other’s perfect match, and you’ll be an unstoppable duo now that you are. God knows you’ve fought tooth and nail for it.”

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Spike was staring in bewilderment, but Buffy gave a tearful smile. She stepped forward and hugged Angel. “Come on,” she said. “We can’t let you leave without taking you out to dinner.”

“I don’t eat human food,” Angel protested.

“Suck it up, big guy,” Spike grinned. “Tonight, we feast.”

And Angel did suck it up, and afterwards Buffy gave him another tight squeeze, and she shoved Spike forward until Spike was hugging him, too. 

“Been fun,” Spike said briefly, but his arms got tighter on the words.

And then Angel left, and abandoned Buffy and Spike to their life together.

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He checked up on them, every once in a while. He’d been checking up on them for as long as he’d known them, and that wasn’t going to stop now . 

He still never knew what he was expecting, or hoping for, when he caught sight of them slow-dancing under a starry sky, or taking down a demon with a grace and ease and pleasure that he’d never seen before.

But they were happy, and that never changed. And every time Angel walked away again into the metaphorical sunrise, the pain was lessened knowing he’d helped bring sunlight to their lives.