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Fic:: Shine Over Me - PG Angel, Spike

Shine Over Me
By Barb C

Disclaimers: The usual. All belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, and naught to me.
Rating: PG
Pairing/characters: Angel, Spike, implied B/S & A/C
Synopsis: Spike. Angel. A porch. Like they're some kind of talking buddies or something.
Author’s notes: Promptfic for lynnenne, who wanted Spike and Angel talking and not too much angst. It occurs to me that I write a hell of a lot of ficlets set on this porch. The story takes place in the same universe as "Raising In the Sun," "Necessary Evils," and "A Parliament of Monsters," and is set in 2015 on the Barbverse timeline.

The first year after he became human again, Angel got a tan. It didn't last long. Old habits die hard, and he spent more years as a vampire than he’ll ever spend as a mortal man. It's not that he doesn't enjoy a sunny day now and then, but he's more at home in the dark, even now. He’d find that depressing, but Cordelia had just rolled her eyes and pronounced that the last thing he needed was to celebrate his new mortality with skin cancer and premature wrinkles.

Twelve years later he sits on the porch at 1630 Revello Drive, sipping his beer and listening to Buffy and Cordelia chattering away inside, with merely human ears, no longer keen enough to pick out the heartbeats pumping beneath every word. A lemon-slice moon slides down the western sky, and yellow squares of lamplight checker the dark houses across the street. A peal of laughter rings out from the house behind him. There’s an inverse square law of some kind in play here: the farther away from each other Buffy Summers-Pratt and Cordelia Chase live, the better they get along.

Of course, the same could be said of him and Spike.

The front door opens, and the porch floods briefly with light. Spike ambles out, beer in one hand and his younger son lodged securely in the crook of his arm. Alex's tousled head nods against Spike’s shoulder - he’s going two falls of three with the Sandman already, but he gives Angel a wide sleepy smile before burrowing into his father’s chest. He doesn't seem much the worse for wear from his ordeal, but Angel's unsurprised that his parents aren't letting him out of their sight.

Spike throws a longing look at the overflowing ashtray on the railing, heaves a theatrical sigh and folds down onto the top step, lithe and athletic as ever. It's strange to think that in human years, Spike's forty. Save for a few grey hairs and the fact that he has to work harder these days to ensure that the tiny curve of tummy just above his belt buckle stays tiny, he doesn't look it. He doesn't have a tan either. Cordy would approve.

Angel watches as Spike vamps out and pops the bottletop with a fang. He raises an eyebrow. “Alexander, huh? There something Buffy's not telling you?”

Spike takes a pull of his beer and smirks. “Don’t be jealous. We’re saving Liam for the next girl.”

It’s harder to rile Spike than it used to be. Which isn’t saying much considering Spike used to rip people’s spleens out for chewing popcorn too loudly in the theater, but still. Woe betide anyone who suggests he’s gone soft, but he’s definitely mellowed out, at least by vampire standards. And the fond, sappy expression on his face as Alex makes a drowsy snuffling noise and pops his thumb in his mouth is nothing Angel can needle him for too sharply, because oh, God, he’s been there.

“Heard from your boy?” Spike asks.

Angel doesn’t ask which boy – as far as he’s concerned, there’s only one. He shakes his head. Somewhere out there, Connor’s alive. He knows that for certain, now, and he’s got to take comfort in that. It's a world more than he had a week ago.

Spike fidgets for a moment. “I’m perishing for a fag,” he says. “Hold the sprog a mo’, will you?”

He holds Alex out and Angel’s too startled not to take him. He shoves away century-old memories of powder-flash and screams and the last time Spike handed him a baby, concentrating on the warm, squirmy, slightly snot-nosed toddler right here, right now. It's been years since he held Connor like this, but it's not something you forget. "Hey, there, little guy," he murmurs, and Alex blinks up at him, hazel eyes enormous. Cordy doesn’t want kids, and how can he blame her, considering? She hasn’t had the best pregnancy-related experiences in the world. Plus in their line of work, children are a liability – he knows that better than anyone. But he didn't get nearly enough of this, the first time.

At last sooty lashes drift down to brush rosy cheeks. When Angel looks up, Spike’s flicking his lighter closed and taking a long satisfied drag. “Better,” he says, blowing a smoke ring. “Going after him, then?”

Spike’s never known when to give up. It’s why he’s lounging on a porch step with greying hair and an impossibly beating heart and children of his loins who may or may not be entirely human, instead of lingering in the endless frozen spring of vampiric youth. Angel, on the other hand, knows far too well what it means to cut his losses, when those losses have names and faces attached. “He made it pretty clear he didn't want to be found. And even if I found him, he wouldn’t… here, he's asleep. Want him back?”

Spike’s cigarette glows in the darkness. “Give it a bit,” he says, and leans back, sending another smoke ring skywards. “He’ll just wake up again if we move him now.”

“He won’t thank you for the second-hand smoke when he’s older,” Angel mutters.

“Ah.” Spike exhales a languid stream of smoke, glancing at Angel through lashes just as long and dark as his son’s. “You’d be surprised what sons will forgive their fathers. Given enough time.”

If they leave them alive to forgive. They’re both mortal now, and time’s something they’ve got in limited supply, not that that ever seems to faze Spike. But...

Somewhere out there, Connor's alive. And although Spike's probably going to start annoying the hell out of him in the next five minutes, that's five minutes of peace and surprisingly decent beer he can look forward to. Angel stretches out, Spike's sleeping son blowing drool-bubbles against his shirt, and gazes up at the faint Sunnydale stars.

Maybe he'll invest in a tanning bed.



( 51 comments — Leave a comment )
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Oct. 1st, 2009 06:53 am (UTC)

sooty lashes drift down
Hang on, does this mean Alex is dark haired? Is that actually possible with two fair haired parents? Maybe there really is something Buffy isn't telling Spike ;)
Oct. 1st, 2009 08:48 am (UTC)
Recessive genes.
(no subject) - dwyld - Oct. 1st, 2009 09:22 am (UTC) - Expand
(no subject) - rahirah - Oct. 1st, 2009 02:22 pm (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 1st, 2009 07:54 am (UTC)
I love the way you write Angel here. Very easy to see buy the way his life and personality have grown.
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:07 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 10:10 am (UTC)
Nice! Your Angel Alive! is very believable.
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:08 am (UTC)
Strangely, I always thought there'd be nothing to say about a human Angel, until I started writing him and found out there was lots.
Oct. 1st, 2009 10:31 am (UTC)
Oh this is the most adorable Spike and Angel time that you have ever written. They just are so bonded at that moment, that it can't be explained in words. *Loves the idea of Angel holding his great-grandson/newphew kid*
Will you ever do a fic on why Alex is named after Xander ? Buffy must have gotten Spike on a good day for the boy to be named after Xander. I am thinking a crisis in which Buffy goes into labor and Xander is the one to deliver him.
And huh, I won't think that Spike would name one of his children after Angel ? Unless acourse Victoria's middle name is Liam ? I could see Spike actually using Liam as a middle name for a girl :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 10:32 am (UTC)
(no subject) - rahirah - Oct. 26th, 2009 01:08 am (UTC) - Expand
Oct. 1st, 2009 11:06 am (UTC)
*relaxed sigh*

Oh, I like this a lot!
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:09 am (UTC)
Oct. 1st, 2009 11:27 am (UTC)
Lovely. Hmmmm *Wonders if Joss knows that you've actually written the definitive Season 8 and more - beginning years ago?*
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:09 am (UTC)
*snort* I'm pretty sure if he ever read my version, Joss would dig a grave so he could roll over in it. *g*
Oct. 1st, 2009 12:49 pm (UTC)
Ah, bittersweet and lovely - as always.
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:09 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 01:28 pm (UTC)
Absolutely LOVE your Angel!
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:10 am (UTC)
Oct. 1st, 2009 01:54 pm (UTC)
Lovely vignette. I do adore these.
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:10 am (UTC)
Thank you!
Oct. 1st, 2009 02:06 pm (UTC)
DADDY ANGEL!!! You are my favorite!

It’s harder to rile Spike than it used to be. Which isn’t saying much considering Spike used to rip people’s spleens out for chewing popcorn too loudly in the theater, but still. Woe betide anyone who suggests he’s gone soft, but he’s definitely mellowed out, at least by vampire standards. And the fond, sappy expression on his face as Alex makes a sleepy snuffling noise and pops his thumb in his mouth is nothing Angel can needle him for too sharply, because oh, God, he’s been there.

I love this beyond reason. Thank you for writing it for me. <3
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:11 am (UTC)
Glad you like it. I'm not much on the daddykink, but I figured I could manage some actual daddy. *g*
Oct. 1st, 2009 02:36 pm (UTC)
I love that sweet peaceful interlude!
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:11 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 02:40 pm (UTC)
Lovely. There can never be enough back porch fics. :)
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:12 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 03:46 pm (UTC)
What an appealing little porch interval - some conversation, some smoking, a pleasant Angel and a bit of wisdom.
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:12 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 04:14 pm (UTC)
What did I like best? All of it.
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:12 am (UTC)
Thanks. :)
Oct. 1st, 2009 05:40 pm (UTC)
Beautiful fic. Love that porch. :P

And I always thought it interesting that both Angel and Spike were both named William as humans (okay, well, Liam is the Gaelic form of William, so close enough).
Oct. 26th, 2009 01:14 am (UTC)
The ME writers were William-crazy. There's Spike and Angel and Billy Ford and Misogynist Billy and Willy the Snitch and probably a few others.
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