FIC: Sundowning-Hot Off the Presses

[Mad-Hamlet@xxxxxxx]

Disclaimer: All this belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant
Enemy(Grrr..rarrrgh)



Drain Brameged Inc. Proudly Presents
A Mad-Hamlet Production


Sundowning
Hot Off the Presses



I push the doors at the front entrance of the Hyperion Arms
wide open giving us all the time we need to stride across the
threshold.

"Can I say it? I'm going to say it." I ask myself.

"Say what?" Wesely replies.

I turn to the group, my friends, my fam..no, let's not get
hokey. My friends, fling my arms wide open and say..

"There's no place like-"

"Hello peaches."

I let my arms fall to my sides and hang my head. "I don't
suppose that portal is still open?" I ask no one in particular.

I spin around to address my dear, dear Childe. He's lying on
the floor with his boots resting on my sofa.

"Spike." I say, smiling a bit. "I can't say how good it is to
see you again."

He stands up slowly, he looks a little ...off. His usual sneer
isn't present. He looks actually serious.

"I mean I really can't say it." I continue speaking. Spike's
stopped just out of arms reach. "Because it's not goo-"

"Buffy's dead." He calmly interupts me.

Little bit of trivia. Angelus never hesitated. Ever.

Shift..demon.

Hello, my name is Angelus and I'll be gutting you like a fish!

My initial charge carries us both through an inconviently
placed wall. They sure don't make them like they used too do they?

Spike has shifted over as well, he grabs the lapels of my
jacket and tries to flip me over but I retain my grip on him as well
so we end up doing a double flip. When that ride is over I'm
straddling him. I pull back a fist and let it fly. I don't think I'm
saying anything legible with every punch just probably gutteral
snarling. The..demon has full control now and I'm not even bothering
to try and rein it in. In that other world me and demon had a little
heart to heart but this is different. In this case it's not trying to
egg me on, to be more violent and destructive..I'm trying to get _it_
to be more violent and destructive. Role reversal is so much fun eh?

> > From a distance I watch as my fists, crash into my childe's
face. He doesn't look so good, but I think there's a bit left. Let's
see if I can crush that too hm? Why, I think he's trying to say
something.

What Spike? What was that? I can't hear you, speak a little
louder, come on.
Talk to me Spike, let's hear your boasting now. Three slayers? Yay
you. Here have a congradulatory death! Hey, catching my fist? That's
just not gentlemenly.

Nice toss. I really liked that table and I don't appreciate
being sent flying across the room to land on it. Splinters in the
buttcheeks are nobodys friend.

Oh...oh...oh...you're talking to me? I see your lips flapping
Spikey, I see that jaw moving up and down, and that fleshy, fleshy
tounge sliding around between your teeth. Mmm..decisions, decisions.

The lips? I'll rip them apart, the tounge would look good
nailed to the ceiling and the jaw..I think I'll keep the jaw. For
posterity you understand. It'll look good on my desk. Before that
though, I remember my Bible lessons, Samson killed a some Philistines
with the jaw of an ass. Let's see if I can recreate history by beating
you to death with your own. That'll be fun.

No, not your own ass bleach-boy, your own jaw.

I leap into across the space between us. Death from above!!

We meet in midair and crash to the ground. Funny, it looked so
easy in
'The Matrix'. Hollywood, always exaggerating...tsk.

He throws a punch, my turn to catch. it, okay..now..twist it
behind his back, got his shoulder. Chicken wing time. Slam him into a
wall.

I bring my mouth up next to his ear, or by his throat. Takes
me a few seconds to remember how to speak.

"One chance." I hiss. "Tell me you're lying."

"Jesus, I wish I soddin' well was!" He gasps out. I yank his
arm higher.

"You..are an idiot childe of mine." I snarl. "You kill the
girl I love and come to tell me? What..is this some really exotic and
painful attempt at suicide?"

"Wasn't me." He snarls back.

"Sure." I growl. "You just happened to be passing by."

"No, I was helping her you daft sod!"

I bounce his head off the wall.

"That was for blasphemy." I say horsely.

"Blasephemy? Oh right..Ye See Before Me The Light Of Buffy.
Get a bleeding grip ya wanker."

"Okay." I grip the hair on the back of his head and bounce him
off the wall again.

"That was for fun." I shout in his ear.

"And a jolly good time we're having." I hear his voice slur. I
think I'm finally starting to hurt him. I want to do it some more.

"Angel, what..what's going on?" Good ol' Cordy, real quick on
the uptake she is. In all honesty she has been getting better though.

It's at this point I do something incredibly stupid.

I look over my shoulder at the others, who still haven't moved
from the entrance. For a crack team of monster hunters they sure arn't
reacting fast tonight.

"Stay out of thi-" I start to say when Spike's elbow, somehow
he worked his arm free, smashes into the soft part of my neck, right
where it and the shoulder meet. Dead on target too, the resulting
shock just sends me crashing to the floor as my whole body goes numb.

"You stupid, bleeding wanker!" Spike shouts and lets me have
it with a viscious kick to the ribs.

"I come up here.." Kick. "Simply because I was the only
one..." Another kick. I think one rib finally gave. "Who seemed to be
cabable of a coherant thought!"

"I'll be nice. I thought to myself." Spike shouts, with yet
another kick, the good news it's not too the ribs, the bad news is it
hits my kidneys. Ah..screw em' they don't get much use anyway.

"Let Angel know so he can go be with hit little hottentot
friends." Spike's still shouting, correction, shouting and kicking,
the latest one to my head. Course the demon aspect runs away now, no
good lil' so & so.

"Back! Get back!" Another voice ..I think it's Wesely but I
can't be sure ..there's a few bells tolling behind my eyes.

I shake my head a few times which allows pain to bend my brain
into a few new and exciting shapes but I manage to clear my vision
enough to see my three friends advacning to Spike with crosses out,
Gunn is already fondling a stake.

"I'm backing, I'm backing. Sheesh." Spike holds up his hands
in surrender. He too has taken a more human appearence. Which means
the actual damage I've done is more apparent. He looks like a wreck,
no I mean it, bleeding from his mouth, nose, even one ear appears to
have suffered a ruptred something or other.

Good.

"You alright Angel?" Gunn asks.

I roll that question around for a moment. Spike said Buffy was
dead. Spike said Buffy was..dead?

No. She's ..done that already. He..has to be lying. He..has
too.

"No." I push myself to my feet. Room wobbles a bit but I
remain standing. "No, I'm not okay."

"Hey. Excuse me, a bit of attention here? Angel, could
you...maybe call off the spaz patrol here?" The others are still
advancing on Spike and he's rapdily running out of room to manuver.
"In case you didn't notice people, I was acting is self defense."

"Nobody cares vampire." Gunn replies. He's moving in for the
kill, I know that look.

"Back off guys." I mumble.

"What?" They all say in chorus.

"I said back off." I rub my face a few times. Oh man I hurt.
"We dust him we can't get any info."

Grumbling they comply.

I wave in the direction of the sofa, inviting Spike to have a
seat.

"Ass on the leather, feet on the floor." I grumble.

"Ah, and I thought you were beating up on me for the news I
bring, not because of my lack of manners." Spike says.

"Change of mind guys." I say. "Dust him."

"Alright, Alright!" Spike says. "I'm sorry. I..look..it's been
kind of rough."

"And we all know what a kind sensitive soul you are." Cordy
sneers. "Why don't you just go back to your little Crypt and quit..."
Her voice fades away.

"Cordy?" I ask. Her eyes have gotten really wide and she
begins to lose her balance and stumbles about, hands outstreched
looking for support. Wesely reaches her before she collapses.

"Oh God." She mutters through clenched teeth. "This one is
gonna really hurt."

Then her back arches with such force that she practically
flies out of Wesely's grip, her scream bouncing around the room.

"Nn..nn..nn...no!" Cory is gasping now. Seeing something none
of us can. Even Spike remains silent.
"Gods..Buffy...I...no...Dawn...don't..."

She spasms again with a fresh scream of agony and finally
collapses, a loose bundle of disjointed limbs.

"Oh God, Oh God, Oh God." Cordy sobs. "She's dead Angel.
Buffy's dead..I saw it. We should have been there..we ..could have..Oh
God..Buffy..."

Anything else she has to say is lost when her cries overwhelm
her ability to speak. Or maybe it's the blood rushing to my head and
roaring through my ears. I..just don't know.

"This already happened mate." Spike says quietly. "Nothing you
can do now."

"But..but I don't understand." Wesely sputters. "Why are the
visions happening now? They've always been prophetic in origin, not of
things that happened in the past."

"Dunno." Spike shrugs. "I'm not part of this crowd remember?"

My mouth moves of it's own violition, a possible answer..a
hypothosis..who knows. My mind and heart are numb though. Just my
mouth seems capable of action.

"Best guess Wes." I say. Say..right, I'm stumbling over the
words. "While we were somewhere else her visions 'backlogged' and
she's going through a period of 'catching up'

"Then..." Wesely voice dies away, Cordelia's muffled sobs now,
once again, being the only thing left to be heard.

"Spike was telling the truth." I say. "Twice over."

"Yes." Spike says. "Stunning isn't it? I feel all fuzzy."

I don't even bother to glare. I..feel funny. Like someone has
knocked the wind from my lungs..but they havn't had any to get
knocked. For centuries..it's odd.
Like I can't breath, and I can't but..but now I mind that I can't
breathe.

Spike voice is quiet, almost respectful when he next speaks.
His words even more so. "For what it's worth...Angel.. I'm sorry."

"Wesely, take care of Cordelia." I gasp out. He nods. "Spike,
my office. I want to hear everything."

He casually reaches into his jacket pocket, pulls out a pack
of cigarettes and lights one up. "Good idea." He says exhaling a
billow of smoke. "There's more and it's..." He glances around the
room. "Somewhat private."

Now I know this is going to be big, Spike never cared a wit
for anyone else's privacy. Except maybe Dru's, and that was only so
far as making sure no one touched 'Miss Edith'.

We walk together toward the door of my office, Wesely has
lifted Cordy on the sofa and is trying, somehow, to comfort her. The
last thing I hear before the door slams shut is Gunn.

"Who's Buffy?"




I lean against the closed door, forhead resting on the wood. I
imagine it being cool because, being room temperature, I don't exactly
pick up on the sweeping diffrences in hot and cold.

"There's some blood in the fridge." I say. "Bottle of bourbon,
third drawer from the left. Get them." I say.

"Pig?" Spike asks.

"No." I shake my head. "Cow."

"You're such a class act peaches." He grunts. I hear him
moving across the room but I'm not really payting attention to that.
I'm more focused on not putting my head through this door, not tear
the walls around, not letting the... the...

Fuck this shit.

Two minutes later the red haze has cleared away a bit.

Whoa.

Spike stands unharmed in the middle of the room, one hand
holding a bag of blood and the bottle of bourbon. The other, two large
mugs. Other than that, there isn't much left in the room intact.

My desk has been caved in, the files scattered about the room,
the mini fridge that sat behind it is now imbedded in the plaster of
the far wall...four feet off the ground.

I'm still clutching the remains of my favorite lamp in my left
hand, the shards of ceramic embedded in the flesh of my palm. The tap,
tap, tap of blood dripping off my fingers. I'm a proffesional
detective, I pick up on these details.

"My." Spike says slowly. "It does me good to watch a master of
self control such as yourself in action."

He looks around the room a bit before turning his gaze back on
me.

"Really." He says. He holds up the blood. "Drink?"

"Angel!" Someone is pounding on the door. Sounds like Gunn.
"You alright in there?"

"I'm fine." I say loudly.

"He slipped an' fell on his fanny." Spike adds.

"You sure?" Gunn calls from the other side of the door. A
loose piece of plaster breaks free from a new hole in the ceileing and
shatters on the floor.

"Yeah." I say. I hear Gunn's footsteps retreating.

I'm so tired all of a sudden. It takes a lot of effort just to
remain upright, and I shuffle across the room, reaching for the
bottle.

"Just gimmie the bourbon." I groan. "Hell with the cow crap."

Spike yanks the bottle out my reach though.

"I am, in all honesty," He says. "I'm the last person not to
be advocating a good bout with the bottle, drunkness is such a turn on
an' all."

"Sppiikkee" I growl and lunge. He spins out the way
effortlessly.

"On this one occasion though, as we already have pain, rage
and ... a certain lack of temper in the mix, I advise against adding
alcohol."

I lunge again and he steps to the left.

"Though..." He scans the remains of my office again. "It may
be a moot point."

"SPIKE!" I shout. "Bottle..NOW!"

And he's in my face.

"Do you THINK I'm joking Angel?" He thunders. His demons has
slipped free again, so has mine it seems. Ridges to ridges we stand...

"Do you actually think I want to be here?" He asks again. Not
shouting now. Quietly he speaks. Quietly and slowly. In it's own way
it's far louder than any bellow.

"I'm seariously not kidding here, you will not be getting
drunk now." He continues speaking.

"You're always kidding Spike." I growl back. "You're never
'serious'. Everything's a big joke to you."

"Not this Sire." He says clearly. "Never about this."

Sire? He called me Sire? Spike never called me sire.

"You..." I stutter.

Spike interupts me. "Yeah I know, I called you sire. Don't get
used to it."

My legs give and I fall back into, what should been a chair,
as the chair is now in pieces all over the room I miss and land on the
floor. It'll do.

"Gimmie the cow." I mutter.

"I'll take one too." He says and pours dinner.


Half an hour later, and I'm not feeling any better. Oh, yes,
truly as if I would. Half an hour, half a week, half a century, I
won't ever feel 'better'. I believe that. It's the only thing that
makes sense.

We drank all the blood in silence and I set my, now empty mug
aside.

"Talk." I say.

"Just a mo'." Spike says. "Having no place to throw the
garbage away," He gestures with the blood bag. "As the garbage can was
sent through a plate glass window not long ago I better drain the bag,
don't want to stain the carpeting. It's the only intact thing left in
the room!" He pauses. "For the moment."

With that said he tilts his head back and sucks the last
remaining pools of blood from the bag.

"Good cow." He mumbles whiping his mouth with the back of his
hand.

"Yeah." I agree aimlessly. Not caring.

"Right then." He settles himself more comfortably on
the...floor. "Buffy's dead."

I feel the surge of rage and my fists tighten, crushing an
idle piece of plaster that happened to get in the way.

"So..I've..been..told." I get out between clenched teeth.

"She and Willow were lovers." Spike says.

...

...

Huh..wha...whe?

"I'm not kidding." Spike says slowly. "Sire."

"But..but..what?" I stutter. "Since when?"

Spike reaches for his own glass and wipes away the remaining
blood with his finger wich he then licks clean.

"Bout a year." He says. "After Willow was raped."

Nothing.

Void.

Space.

Oh, hell with this poetry crap. My stomach just dropped to my
shoes and the blood in my belly is fighting it's way back up, probably
trying to get back to the cow it came from.

I clamber onto my knees, bent over, feel ... gonna...

"So much for the carpet." Spike observes.

I cough a few times, spitting the last few rementents from my
mouth.

"Got any rags?" Spike asks.

"Center drawer..in..the...the..desk." I manage.

Spike is silent for a few minutes.

"What desk Peaches?"

I hit him.

His head rocks back and I leap on top of him, my one hand is
gripping the his neck, with the palm of my other I'm pushing his chin
farther and farther back.

"WWHHHHYHYYYYYY!?" I scream. "WWHHHYYYYY!? WHY DIDN'T SHE TELL
ME!"

Over and over again. Just why. With every scream his head
bends back just a little bit father. His hands fumble about, I ignore
his flailing. What can he do?

He grabs the crotch of my jeans. Squeezes. Hard.

Oh. He can do that.

Of course I fall over. Who wouldn't?

"You LEFT!" He hollars at me, while backing away out of arms
reach. I've gone fetal.

"You up and left you total sod! Just gone and done, poof, the
Amazing dissapearing Angel! From my understanding it was agreed upon.
Some..seperate lives crap! Moving on, all the really great dioliouge
from 'Passions' only in this case live and realtime!"

I gurgle in response.

"So they hooked up? So what! It's not like you drove her into
that. It just happened!" He's still shouting.

"Cheap...cheap..shot." I gasp.

"Oh I'm _so_ sorry for wanting to preserve my vertebrae! Just
because you've already broken everything around doesn't give you
permission to try and break me!"

"Lost...lost..my temper."

"Oh wow, ya think?" He snarls.

"You've..you have been around them too long." I manage a
twisted smile. "You're begining to talk like them."

He just snorts, bends over and grabs one of the few seat
cusions to escape my venting. This he tosses on the remains of supper.

"They were in love." He says quietly. "Don't ask me anything
about how, or why. I honestly found the entire thing somewhat
preturbing."

"Because they were both women?" I ask. The pain, physical pain
at least, is lessening. Darn, there goes a pretty good distraction to
what really is hurting too.

Spike gives a disdainful snort, lighting up another cigarette.
"Course not. Does it you?"

I shake my head. "Then why?"

"Oh please, it's practically my role in life to play 'all
dissaproving' of anything good. I feel it's my 'duty' as a bad guy."

"But you were helping the good guys." I point out. "Reminded
you of Dru didn't it."

He shakes his head. "Not so sport. Just me, being me I guess.
But make no mistake," and he jabs the cigarette in my direction for
emphasis. "What they had was the real deal.It's gone now and it's
fucking tearing them all apart. Everything is falling apart back home.
Just going right to hell. The whole 'Things fall apart, the center
cannot hold' type stuff."

"Yeats." I recognise the quote.

"In this case the 'Center' threw herself into a fifty food
wide ball of lightning."

"What?" I ask.

"Sit back Peaches. This is going to take a while." Spike says
with a sigh.


Two hours later. I havn't moved from my seat on the floor.
Twice over now someone came to check up, to bang on the door and
demand to know how we were. I sent them away, not really recongising I
was doing it at the time.

Spike grinds his latest cigarrete into the carpeting.

"So she jumped into this vortex thingie, that was all the
worlds that ever were bleeding together. It vanished, took her with
it. The end." And he slaps his hands together. Loud enough to make me
jump.

"Now what?" I ask.

He pulls himself to his feet. "You know what's great about
being a vampire?" He asks ignoring my own question. "You can sit
absolutly still and never get cramped muscles or have your
extremeities fall asleep. I mean, I really hated that tingly feeling
back when I was among the living."

He walks across the ruins of my life, sorry, my office to the
door.

"Funeral is tommorow." He says without turning around. "You
and your 'posse' are invited of course. Though I recomend you skip
the actual service, what with it being in the day, tanning is not
among our many skills."

"I'll..I'll bear that in mind." I say.

"I'm taking the bourbon." He says snatching the bottle off a
nearby shelf.

"Still don't think I should drink?" I ask.

"Not at all." He looks over his shoulder at me with a raised
eyebrow. "I just know I want too." And he's out the door and gone.