The Mirror of Dreams
folder
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,553
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
2,553
Reviews:
2
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Mirror of Dreams
Title: The Mirror of Dreams. (1/3)
Author: Shara Nesu
Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. or http://www.livejournal.com/users/sharanesu/
Archived: Shara's place:
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone it all belongs to Joss etc. *sigh*
Spoilers: Set During Season 5 (probably after Destiny) - few spoilers. Goes off on it’s own really.
Category/Pairings: Angel/Spike...an unsual one at that. Human/Vampire mix.
Rating: NC17 Warning: M&M graphic SEX.
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summary: An unusual mirror appears in the middle of Angel’s office. No one knows what the mirror does or why it’s there. Strange things happen, and Angel and Spike find themselves in the middle of something really weird.
Notes: Many, many thanks to my Beta - Helen *waves* Also, this is like my returning story to Angel/Spike fandom, it's not my best, but hey, I've been having plot bunny troubles. So I hope you like, and I'll try better next time. Please no e-mails saying how bad it is - I know.
The mirror was ancient. Legend said that Elfin or maybe Demon hands had created it in a time before humans even existed. The mirror’s surface was nothing like what ancient or even modern day man could create. It wasn’t made of glass backed with silver, nor was it highly polished l. l. The surface of the mirror was like reflective water. To the touch it was as smooth as silk, and when hit with a heavy object, the surface would bend and ripple, but it wouldn’t break. Many owners of the mirror had tried to smash it and failed. Many more had been driven mad by it.
Some said that God had created the mirror himself, when Adam had taken his first bite of the forbidden apple from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Many owners believed that myth for the ornate dark metal frame was of entwined with branches and leaves. And if you looked really closely you would find a half-bitten apple and the snarling face of a serpent.
Through the millennia many had owned the mirror, many had hidden it, many had tried to destroy it, and through fate - or just bad luck - the mirror finally ended up at the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart. The six-foot high and two-foot wide mirror ended up standing erect in the office of the boss - Angel.
*~*~*~*~*
Angel POV:
I sit and stare at the ornate mirror standing in the middle of my office. It certainly wasn’t here last night, and its presence is confusing. What would I - a vampire - want with a mirror? I gaze he she shiny surface, the office looking back at me. I don’t cast a reflection so I’m missing from the scene in the mirror. It’s like I’m not really here - I’m just a reflection of who I once was.
“Ah! It’s arrived!” Wesley appears at my door, and flings it open. “Though I don’t know why they put it here?”
“You know about this?” I ask Wesley, as he flips through a thick file in his hand.
“Yes, I had it brought up from storage the other day. I did tell Eve I wanted it in my office, but she must have thought different.”
“What is it?”
“Well...it’s a mirror.” Wesley answers, a little confused.
I sigh. “Yes, I know it’s a mirror, but what is it for? And why is it in my office?”
“Oh Wesley, you found it!” Fred appears; hurrying through the door with Spike nipping at her heals. “This is wonderful!” She starts to quickly step around the mirror, gazing at it with immense interest.
“Do we know what it is yet?” Fred asks Wesley, getting a pad and pen from the inside of her white coat.
“It’s a mirror,” I tell her. I wish sometimes that they would tell me what’s going on.
“No!” Spike answers in a sarcastic manner. I stare at him giving him my disapproving glare.
“Ooo facial feature no 3 - the disapproving glare...which looks a little like his angry glare, and his...”
“Spike!” I snarl, giving him the angry glare. He just sniggers at me and lights up a cigarette. Damn, I hate him now he’s becoming a little more corporeal.
“It’s the mirror of Dreams,” Wesley pipes up, reading from a page in his file. “It has been here at Wolfram and Hart for the last seventy years. Before that, it was owned by a wealthy businessman - Mr Rossal Right who had his own department store chain. It’s reported to have driven him insane and he threw himself off the roof of one of his stores in LA. I’ve also got reports about the mirror glowing from time to time in storage. In fact, it was glowing when Spike arrived here through the amulet. It glowed before that when Darla came back. Also when Mr Doyle died.”
I swallow the pain back at the mention of Doyle. However, Wesley has peaked my interest a little. “What *exactly* does it do?”
“Err...reflect?” Spike adds another sarcastic comment but I ignore him, much to his annoyance.
“The mirror is said to reflect the heart’s deepest desires.”
“How could that drive anyone mad?” Fred asks from her place on the floor. She has a tape in her hand and writes down measurements on her little pad.
“Well, it’s not doing that now,” I comment, standing up and glaring into the mirror. I’m certainly not reflected there - therefore it’s not showing my deepest desire - to be human.
“No...nor mine,” Wesley adds after a moment of staring into the shimmering depths.
“Maybe someone broke it?” Spike has this serious look on his face as he comes up behind me. “Peaches, you didn’t look into it, did you?” A grin. “Oh no! Your ugly mutt face has cracked the mirror - look!”
I really wish Spike would stop with the theatrics. I sigh as he laughs, falling back into my couch giggling his head off. I wish...
“Maybe it needs something to awake it...a spell perhaps?” Fred says distractedly while scribbling on her pad.
“Doesn’t say that in the files,” Wesley replies flicking through more pages. “This certainly needs more research.”
“I concur.” Fred stuffs her pad into her coat pocket and moves over to my desk. “I’ll have someone move it into the lab; it will be out of your hair soon, Angel.”
I smile at her, and then take leave of my office. Leaving behind Spike and the unusual mirror standing in the centre of my office.
Later:
It’s early morning and I’ve had a hard night of demon hunting. One of our agents reported the possibility of some breed of demons spawning in the local subway station. I went. I killed. I got covered in demon slime. Oh joy.
I shower in my apartment, then visit my office. It’s around 4am in the morning, and very few people are around. That gives me a little time just to sit by myself and have a ponder...or brood as most people would call it. Hopefully Spike is anywhere but in my office, and when I open the door he isn’t. I sigh with relief. I really don’t want to see him at this moment. However, there is something strange in my office - the mirror is still standing there in the centre of the room.
Weird. I thought Fred and Wesley were having it moved? I check for messages on my desk but there’s nothing saying why it’s still here. I walk over to my liquor cabinet and poor myself a large glass of 30-year-old scotch. This is the one vice I share with Angelus. The taste for good, well-made and expensive scotch. I take a sip, close my eyes and savour the toffee like taste.
I take the glass with me and sit down on the couch before looking up at the 6-foot monstrosity. The mirrortaintainly isn't what I'd like as a piece of furniture. Its surface looks rather overly shiny with a silvery glint to all that it reflects. The frame is awful! I’d have it replaced if it was mine. It’s dark, dirty looking metal; not something I could name off the top of my head. It has been designed to copy the organic form of tree branches and leaves. It has really good detailing with the notches on the wood and veins on the leaves. It just looks...ominous.
After a while of studying the mirror, I put the glass down and get to my feet. I edge nearer, spotting something unusual in the mirror’s border. Yes, there it is. A small round object. I think it’s supposed to be an apple with a bite taken out of it. I smile at the small quirk. I reach out and touch the apple, feeling the raised and slightly slimy surface under my fingers. I press harder feeling the metal give a little to the pressure and the smell of apples fills my nose. I quickly stand back. I don’t think metal should act like that.
I’m about to sit down again when my eye catches something reflected in the mirror. Someone is here with me. From the corner of my eye I spot a black figure of a man, his back to the mirror...Holy shit!!
I turn back to the mirror gazing full faced into the shiny surface. There was no one else in the room - it was me reflected in the mirror! I gasp, touching my face, watching my double do the same. This is me! I can see myself. Just like that day that never was - I can see my reflection. I laugh a little, noticing how I’ve not changed in the years since I last saw my face. I look good, dressed in the black shirt and black slacks, heavy boots on my feet. My hair looks like something needs to be done to it. I put my hand on the top of my head, pushing the spiky waves down a little lau laugh again, remembering that time on Pylea.
Then something strange happens. Well, I think it did. My reflection in the mirror suddenly winks at me. I don’t think I winked. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t - didn’t wink at myself. I’m damn sure that mirrors don’t do that. Your reflection isn’t supposed to move. I look again, gazing at my eyes. Nothing. Just dark, almost black eyes gaze right back at me.
I shrug. It must have been my imagination. I turn back to the couch and pick up my glass of scotch. I take another sip and sit down. Mirror Angel does just the same, and I end up staring at myself sitting and drinking scotch. I toast myself and take another swallow.
I don’t know how long I’ve spent staring into the mirror. I watch myself, making faces and just acting normal. Seeing how others see me for the first time. Then as the sky lightens and I’m about to leave and change for the new day, something happens. A shadow appears in the corner of the mirror. At first I think it’s a fly or something resting on the surface, but the shadow grows and I realise it’s someone else sitting beside me on the couch. I quickly look beside me - but no one is there. I turn back to the mirror. Staring intently at the dark figure beside me. It changes - lightens - until it’s a mirror image of Spike sitting there. I gasp.
As I watch the mirror Spike starts to speak to mirror Angel. Mirror Angel laughs at something he says, the lines around his eyes softening. Mirror Spike turns in his seat, turning and then sliding into mirror Angel’s lap. My mouth drops open. The couple in the mirror gently touch lips. The kiss is soft, just two lips pressing together. A spark erupts between them and as I watch they heat up, kisses growing in passion becoming a dance of lips, mouths and tongue. I moan at the display, watching the reflection of my tou touching this other man. Touching Spike. Touching him and enjoying it. His hands are sliding over mirror Spike’s back, squeezing the tight buns, sliding his fingers through bleached hair. Mirror Spike grabs me-him and slides pale hands under the black shirt. Mirror Angel grunts, parting their lips and throwing off his shirt.
Mirror Spike laughs, flinging off his leather jacket and the black t-shirt underneath. He moans and pants, and they kiss again. More kisses. More touching. Mirror Angel’s hands e ale all over that pale flesh and he occasionally digs sharpened fingernails into Spike’s muscles making him bleed. Mirror Spike flings his head back and moans, his mouth an `O’ and his eyes flashing with desire as he turns his head for Angel to kiss his throat. Mirror Spike lifts his hips off mirror Angel’s lap and helps him slip his jeans down over slim hips.
I close my mouth realising I‘m drooling and look away. My body feels hot and tight. A hardness is growing in my soft slacks. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that when I open them the image in the mirror will be gone. I swig back what’s left of the scotch and slowly open my eyes.
Nothing. The mirror is once again blank. Oh, it shows the couch and the wall behind me, but I’m missing from the reflection and thankfully so is Spike. I sigh, rubbing a hand over my eyes and looking at the mirror again. I’m still not there.
“Thank you,” I whisper to myself relieved. I must have been dreaming. Maybe I fell asleep for a moment. I might have just closed my eyes, drifted off and dreamed of Spike. Dreamed of Spike? Why the hell would I dream of him? I hate him. I wouldn’t touch him if he were the last man on earth! Not only that but I’m entirely into women. Take Darla, Dru, or even Buffy! But then again, Spike really does have a great ass.
I fling the glass aside, hearing it smash on the floor. I stomp away from the mirror, leaving my office and returning to my apartment. I need a rest. That’s what it is; I’m just tired. Nothing else.
There is one strange point, though. When I return to my office hours later, there is an empty glass on the floor beside the couch. I swear I had broken it.
{The mirror stood alone in the room. No shadows reflected across its shiny surface. Suddenly, the room seems to darken, though it is light outside and the curtains only take away the sun‘s glare. The air around the mirror sizzles. A smell of ozone fills the room and the mirror groans. A metal scraping along metal sound, soft, but rough at the same time. Across the surface ripples form and just for a moment it quivers. A speck of light appears from deep inside the mirror and then dies. The room lightens and everything returns to normal.}
Spike’s POV: Fucking Bastard! If I have to spend one more day with Angel poncing around brooding, I swear I’ll stake him. He gets worse in his old age. He never listens to dear old Spike. Oh no! Always going on at me with his high and mighty attitude. I’m so bloody sick of it.
I slam the door to Angel’s office behind me and take a deep breath. So thankful that I have the ability to touch now. Before I couldn’t even try and strangle dear old, daddy Angel. I walk over to the drinks cabinet and snatch up a 10 year old bottle of ‘the House of Lord’s’ whiskey. How on earth Angel gets hold of this stuff from Scotland, I’ll never know, but it sure packs a wallop. I take a long, deep and calming swig, hoping it will take the vile taste from my mouth after Angel’s talk down. Damn, but I hate the man...err... vampire. I slump down into the couch and take another deep drink. Good stuff. Real good stuff, I can feel my toes curling already. *Smirk*
The mirror in the centre of the room suddenly catches my attention. I swear that something just moved across it, but as I look around there is no one else in the room, not even a fly. It must be the drink; I take another three long gulps finishing off half the bottle. I stare at the mirror before me, it’s shiny surface facing the couch. It’s an awful thing and should be sold for scrap metal. I can’t understand why everyone is so interested in it; it’s just a bloody mirror! You only see your reflection in it and if you’re like Angel and me, there ain’t one.
Oh, but I hate that bastard of a sire of mine. Hate him. Yep, totally and utterly hate him. Always putting me down ..wh..what on earth is that?
My mouth drops open and my eyes widen as I stare into the mirror. There is a reflection appearing of a black clad, devilishly handsome man with bleached hair. It has to be me; no one else could be that good looking. I run a hand through my hair and the reflection does the same. I take a drink and my mirror copy repeats my actions. Damn, but I look good. I always knew the blond look would be fucking fantastic on me. Spike, the sex stud. I stand up, sliding off my leather coat, and stand before the ancient mirror. I grin at myself, showing long white teeth. I stroke my hand down my chest, watching the copy of me moan and arch. My mouth opens and I say something...but wait, I’m not speaking. I stroke myself again, resting my hand on my stomach, the mirror me does exactly the same and then...it opens its mouth and says something.
There is no sound, just the movement of lips. I know I haven’t spoken. I’m damn sure I haven’t. As I watch, ever so slowly a hand, not my own, slips around the waist of my mirror image. I touch myself where the hand should be but it connects with nothing but empty air. I step back, watching mirror Spike do the same...right into the arms of Angel. I gasp, looking around quickly but finding no one else in the room. It’s just me and the mirror. The mirror where Angel is holding me and I’m-mirror Spike is looking up at him with such adoration. The other me reaches up and strokes Angel’s face. A gentle action that makes Angel bend his head and mirror Spike leans up, pressing their lips together.
I gasp, stumbling backwards until I collapse on the couch. Our images don’t move. They stand before the mirror, my mirror hand presses against Angel’s face as tongues entwine. They kiss with sweet erateration. I grab the bottle of whiskey, taking gulp after gulp until the bottle is empty. And still they kiss. Sweet mouths pressing together. Tongues licking lips. Tongues sliding into the wetness of each other’s mouth. I moan before I realise it, my free hand sliding down to touch my bulging crotch. The images groan and I swear I can hear the noise through the mirror. A deep vibrating sound that carries with it desperation and passionate need.
The couple in the mirror back away, moving to the mirror image of the couch I am sitting on. They kiss; touch and my copy’s hand reaches down to grasp Angel’s ass. Such a damn sweet ass, tight and perky. I shudder at the thought. I’ve never thought of Angel like that and I sure as hell don’t want to. My mirror image pushes Angel down into the soft cushions, moving forward and straddling his legs. My eyes open wide as mirror Spike sits in Angel’s lap, slowly unzipping my sire’s tight black slacks. I reach again for the whiskey bottle but find it empty as I bring the mouth to my lips.
I moan again watching myself get drawn into Angel’s embrace, large hands running down my spine to push the edge of my jeans down over my ass. I gape as mirror Angel’s hands stroke down the cleft and...No fucking way!
I jump up; squeezing my eyes shut and throw the whiskey bottle at the mirror. I hear the impact and when I open my eyes the floor is covered in bottle glass. The images in the mirror are gone and so is my reflection. The shiny surface shows nothing but an empty couch. I growl angrily, grabbing my jacket and stalking out. It was a stupid trick! That’s what it was. Or too much alcohol, because it couldn’t have been anything else!
What is really strange, however, is when I return to Angel’s office later, there is full bottle of the House of Lord’s whiskey standing in the middle of the floor - the broken glass gone as if it had never existed.
{The mirror stands alone in the dark office. The air is still and the room silent. Suddenly, a sound er out out of the mirror. A soft moan. A man’s moan. The mirror’s surface shifts and moves, the reflections of objects change and elongate. A hand emerges. A male hand. It reaches out, pushing through the surface of the mirror - searching, reaching. The mirror cracks, an ear-splitting sound that booms around the room making the ornaments shudder and fall. Objecrackrack and break, the mirror makes a high pitched squeal and a naked man steps out. The room is silent once again, the darkness covering it. The man smiles.}
Angel’s POV:
“God Angel, you are such a dork!” Spike whines, trying to snatch a glass of blood from my hand.
“Spike, just piss off!” I snarl. I’ve really had enough of him. All he does is cause trouble and complain. Thankfully, business is slow and I haven’t had to run out and do the hero thing. The downside to that is having to live with Spike’s constant interrupting. And if he isn’t causing a nuisance of himself when opening his mouth, he has to do it with his blasted hands. He fights. He breaks. He steals. He makes my life a friggin’ misery!
“Just give me a drink!” he growls back trying to snatch the blood from my hand.
“Get your own!”
“I only want a bloody swallow!”
I glare at him and he sticks his tongue out at me. I wish I could just damn well stake him! It seems we are at a stand off. Both staring at each other, the glass of blood in my hand. Then out of the blue, Spike lets out a loud scream and dives at me. The glass flies up into the air and it smashes against the tiled roof. Blood flies everywhere and in a second we are both covered.
“Spike!” I yell, running after him and grabbing a stake out the back of my trousers. “This time you are so dead!” We run out of the small kitchen beside my office and down the corridor, everyone watching us. I’ve so had enough of him. I chase him down, thinking I have him cornered but as I round the bend I hear an office door slam, and Spike is gone. I grin, thinking he’s run into an office. There is only one door at the end of the corridor and I approach it slowly. I open it and...nothing. The room is empty. Spike is gone.
Just what in the hell is going on here?
TBC
Author: Shara Nesu
Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. or http://www.livejournal.com/users/sharanesu/
Archived: Shara's place:
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone it all belongs to Joss etc. *sigh*
Spoilers: Set During Season 5 (probably after Destiny) - few spoilers. Goes off on it’s own really.
Category/Pairings: Angel/Spike...an unsual one at that. Human/Vampire mix.
Rating: NC17 Warning: M&M graphic SEX.
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summary: An unusual mirror appears in the middle of Angel’s office. No one knows what the mirror does or why it’s there. Strange things happen, and Angel and Spike find themselves in the middle of something really weird.
Notes: Many, many thanks to my Beta - Helen *waves* Also, this is like my returning story to Angel/Spike fandom, it's not my best, but hey, I've been having plot bunny troubles. So I hope you like, and I'll try better next time. Please no e-mails saying how bad it is - I know.
The mirror was ancient. Legend said that Elfin or maybe Demon hands had created it in a time before humans even existed. The mirror’s surface was nothing like what ancient or even modern day man could create. It wasn’t made of glass backed with silver, nor was it highly polished l. l. The surface of the mirror was like reflective water. To the touch it was as smooth as silk, and when hit with a heavy object, the surface would bend and ripple, but it wouldn’t break. Many owners of the mirror had tried to smash it and failed. Many more had been driven mad by it.
Some said that God had created the mirror himself, when Adam had taken his first bite of the forbidden apple from the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil. Many owners believed that myth for the ornate dark metal frame was of entwined with branches and leaves. And if you looked really closely you would find a half-bitten apple and the snarling face of a serpent.
Through the millennia many had owned the mirror, many had hidden it, many had tried to destroy it, and through fate - or just bad luck - the mirror finally ended up at the LA offices of Wolfram and Hart. The six-foot high and two-foot wide mirror ended up standing erect in the office of the boss - Angel.
*~*~*~*~*
Angel POV:
I sit and stare at the ornate mirror standing in the middle of my office. It certainly wasn’t here last night, and its presence is confusing. What would I - a vampire - want with a mirror? I gaze he she shiny surface, the office looking back at me. I don’t cast a reflection so I’m missing from the scene in the mirror. It’s like I’m not really here - I’m just a reflection of who I once was.
“Ah! It’s arrived!” Wesley appears at my door, and flings it open. “Though I don’t know why they put it here?”
“You know about this?” I ask Wesley, as he flips through a thick file in his hand.
“Yes, I had it brought up from storage the other day. I did tell Eve I wanted it in my office, but she must have thought different.”
“What is it?”
“Well...it’s a mirror.” Wesley answers, a little confused.
I sigh. “Yes, I know it’s a mirror, but what is it for? And why is it in my office?”
“Oh Wesley, you found it!” Fred appears; hurrying through the door with Spike nipping at her heals. “This is wonderful!” She starts to quickly step around the mirror, gazing at it with immense interest.
“Do we know what it is yet?” Fred asks Wesley, getting a pad and pen from the inside of her white coat.
“It’s a mirror,” I tell her. I wish sometimes that they would tell me what’s going on.
“No!” Spike answers in a sarcastic manner. I stare at him giving him my disapproving glare.
“Ooo facial feature no 3 - the disapproving glare...which looks a little like his angry glare, and his...”
“Spike!” I snarl, giving him the angry glare. He just sniggers at me and lights up a cigarette. Damn, I hate him now he’s becoming a little more corporeal.
“It’s the mirror of Dreams,” Wesley pipes up, reading from a page in his file. “It has been here at Wolfram and Hart for the last seventy years. Before that, it was owned by a wealthy businessman - Mr Rossal Right who had his own department store chain. It’s reported to have driven him insane and he threw himself off the roof of one of his stores in LA. I’ve also got reports about the mirror glowing from time to time in storage. In fact, it was glowing when Spike arrived here through the amulet. It glowed before that when Darla came back. Also when Mr Doyle died.”
I swallow the pain back at the mention of Doyle. However, Wesley has peaked my interest a little. “What *exactly* does it do?”
“Err...reflect?” Spike adds another sarcastic comment but I ignore him, much to his annoyance.
“The mirror is said to reflect the heart’s deepest desires.”
“How could that drive anyone mad?” Fred asks from her place on the floor. She has a tape in her hand and writes down measurements on her little pad.
“Well, it’s not doing that now,” I comment, standing up and glaring into the mirror. I’m certainly not reflected there - therefore it’s not showing my deepest desire - to be human.
“No...nor mine,” Wesley adds after a moment of staring into the shimmering depths.
“Maybe someone broke it?” Spike has this serious look on his face as he comes up behind me. “Peaches, you didn’t look into it, did you?” A grin. “Oh no! Your ugly mutt face has cracked the mirror - look!”
I really wish Spike would stop with the theatrics. I sigh as he laughs, falling back into my couch giggling his head off. I wish...
“Maybe it needs something to awake it...a spell perhaps?” Fred says distractedly while scribbling on her pad.
“Doesn’t say that in the files,” Wesley replies flicking through more pages. “This certainly needs more research.”
“I concur.” Fred stuffs her pad into her coat pocket and moves over to my desk. “I’ll have someone move it into the lab; it will be out of your hair soon, Angel.”
I smile at her, and then take leave of my office. Leaving behind Spike and the unusual mirror standing in the centre of my office.
Later:
It’s early morning and I’ve had a hard night of demon hunting. One of our agents reported the possibility of some breed of demons spawning in the local subway station. I went. I killed. I got covered in demon slime. Oh joy.
I shower in my apartment, then visit my office. It’s around 4am in the morning, and very few people are around. That gives me a little time just to sit by myself and have a ponder...or brood as most people would call it. Hopefully Spike is anywhere but in my office, and when I open the door he isn’t. I sigh with relief. I really don’t want to see him at this moment. However, there is something strange in my office - the mirror is still standing there in the centre of the room.
Weird. I thought Fred and Wesley were having it moved? I check for messages on my desk but there’s nothing saying why it’s still here. I walk over to my liquor cabinet and poor myself a large glass of 30-year-old scotch. This is the one vice I share with Angelus. The taste for good, well-made and expensive scotch. I take a sip, close my eyes and savour the toffee like taste.
I take the glass with me and sit down on the couch before looking up at the 6-foot monstrosity. The mirrortaintainly isn't what I'd like as a piece of furniture. Its surface looks rather overly shiny with a silvery glint to all that it reflects. The frame is awful! I’d have it replaced if it was mine. It’s dark, dirty looking metal; not something I could name off the top of my head. It has been designed to copy the organic form of tree branches and leaves. It has really good detailing with the notches on the wood and veins on the leaves. It just looks...ominous.
After a while of studying the mirror, I put the glass down and get to my feet. I edge nearer, spotting something unusual in the mirror’s border. Yes, there it is. A small round object. I think it’s supposed to be an apple with a bite taken out of it. I smile at the small quirk. I reach out and touch the apple, feeling the raised and slightly slimy surface under my fingers. I press harder feeling the metal give a little to the pressure and the smell of apples fills my nose. I quickly stand back. I don’t think metal should act like that.
I’m about to sit down again when my eye catches something reflected in the mirror. Someone is here with me. From the corner of my eye I spot a black figure of a man, his back to the mirror...Holy shit!!
I turn back to the mirror gazing full faced into the shiny surface. There was no one else in the room - it was me reflected in the mirror! I gasp, touching my face, watching my double do the same. This is me! I can see myself. Just like that day that never was - I can see my reflection. I laugh a little, noticing how I’ve not changed in the years since I last saw my face. I look good, dressed in the black shirt and black slacks, heavy boots on my feet. My hair looks like something needs to be done to it. I put my hand on the top of my head, pushing the spiky waves down a little lau laugh again, remembering that time on Pylea.
Then something strange happens. Well, I think it did. My reflection in the mirror suddenly winks at me. I don’t think I winked. I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t - didn’t wink at myself. I’m damn sure that mirrors don’t do that. Your reflection isn’t supposed to move. I look again, gazing at my eyes. Nothing. Just dark, almost black eyes gaze right back at me.
I shrug. It must have been my imagination. I turn back to the couch and pick up my glass of scotch. I take another sip and sit down. Mirror Angel does just the same, and I end up staring at myself sitting and drinking scotch. I toast myself and take another swallow.
I don’t know how long I’ve spent staring into the mirror. I watch myself, making faces and just acting normal. Seeing how others see me for the first time. Then as the sky lightens and I’m about to leave and change for the new day, something happens. A shadow appears in the corner of the mirror. At first I think it’s a fly or something resting on the surface, but the shadow grows and I realise it’s someone else sitting beside me on the couch. I quickly look beside me - but no one is there. I turn back to the mirror. Staring intently at the dark figure beside me. It changes - lightens - until it’s a mirror image of Spike sitting there. I gasp.
As I watch the mirror Spike starts to speak to mirror Angel. Mirror Angel laughs at something he says, the lines around his eyes softening. Mirror Spike turns in his seat, turning and then sliding into mirror Angel’s lap. My mouth drops open. The couple in the mirror gently touch lips. The kiss is soft, just two lips pressing together. A spark erupts between them and as I watch they heat up, kisses growing in passion becoming a dance of lips, mouths and tongue. I moan at the display, watching the reflection of my tou touching this other man. Touching Spike. Touching him and enjoying it. His hands are sliding over mirror Spike’s back, squeezing the tight buns, sliding his fingers through bleached hair. Mirror Spike grabs me-him and slides pale hands under the black shirt. Mirror Angel grunts, parting their lips and throwing off his shirt.
Mirror Spike laughs, flinging off his leather jacket and the black t-shirt underneath. He moans and pants, and they kiss again. More kisses. More touching. Mirror Angel’s hands e ale all over that pale flesh and he occasionally digs sharpened fingernails into Spike’s muscles making him bleed. Mirror Spike flings his head back and moans, his mouth an `O’ and his eyes flashing with desire as he turns his head for Angel to kiss his throat. Mirror Spike lifts his hips off mirror Angel’s lap and helps him slip his jeans down over slim hips.
I close my mouth realising I‘m drooling and look away. My body feels hot and tight. A hardness is growing in my soft slacks. I squeeze my eyes shut and pray that when I open them the image in the mirror will be gone. I swig back what’s left of the scotch and slowly open my eyes.
Nothing. The mirror is once again blank. Oh, it shows the couch and the wall behind me, but I’m missing from the reflection and thankfully so is Spike. I sigh, rubbing a hand over my eyes and looking at the mirror again. I’m still not there.
“Thank you,” I whisper to myself relieved. I must have been dreaming. Maybe I fell asleep for a moment. I might have just closed my eyes, drifted off and dreamed of Spike. Dreamed of Spike? Why the hell would I dream of him? I hate him. I wouldn’t touch him if he were the last man on earth! Not only that but I’m entirely into women. Take Darla, Dru, or even Buffy! But then again, Spike really does have a great ass.
I fling the glass aside, hearing it smash on the floor. I stomp away from the mirror, leaving my office and returning to my apartment. I need a rest. That’s what it is; I’m just tired. Nothing else.
There is one strange point, though. When I return to my office hours later, there is an empty glass on the floor beside the couch. I swear I had broken it.
{The mirror stood alone in the room. No shadows reflected across its shiny surface. Suddenly, the room seems to darken, though it is light outside and the curtains only take away the sun‘s glare. The air around the mirror sizzles. A smell of ozone fills the room and the mirror groans. A metal scraping along metal sound, soft, but rough at the same time. Across the surface ripples form and just for a moment it quivers. A speck of light appears from deep inside the mirror and then dies. The room lightens and everything returns to normal.}
Spike’s POV: Fucking Bastard! If I have to spend one more day with Angel poncing around brooding, I swear I’ll stake him. He gets worse in his old age. He never listens to dear old Spike. Oh no! Always going on at me with his high and mighty attitude. I’m so bloody sick of it.
I slam the door to Angel’s office behind me and take a deep breath. So thankful that I have the ability to touch now. Before I couldn’t even try and strangle dear old, daddy Angel. I walk over to the drinks cabinet and snatch up a 10 year old bottle of ‘the House of Lord’s’ whiskey. How on earth Angel gets hold of this stuff from Scotland, I’ll never know, but it sure packs a wallop. I take a long, deep and calming swig, hoping it will take the vile taste from my mouth after Angel’s talk down. Damn, but I hate the man...err... vampire. I slump down into the couch and take another deep drink. Good stuff. Real good stuff, I can feel my toes curling already. *Smirk*
The mirror in the centre of the room suddenly catches my attention. I swear that something just moved across it, but as I look around there is no one else in the room, not even a fly. It must be the drink; I take another three long gulps finishing off half the bottle. I stare at the mirror before me, it’s shiny surface facing the couch. It’s an awful thing and should be sold for scrap metal. I can’t understand why everyone is so interested in it; it’s just a bloody mirror! You only see your reflection in it and if you’re like Angel and me, there ain’t one.
Oh, but I hate that bastard of a sire of mine. Hate him. Yep, totally and utterly hate him. Always putting me down ..wh..what on earth is that?
My mouth drops open and my eyes widen as I stare into the mirror. There is a reflection appearing of a black clad, devilishly handsome man with bleached hair. It has to be me; no one else could be that good looking. I run a hand through my hair and the reflection does the same. I take a drink and my mirror copy repeats my actions. Damn, but I look good. I always knew the blond look would be fucking fantastic on me. Spike, the sex stud. I stand up, sliding off my leather coat, and stand before the ancient mirror. I grin at myself, showing long white teeth. I stroke my hand down my chest, watching the copy of me moan and arch. My mouth opens and I say something...but wait, I’m not speaking. I stroke myself again, resting my hand on my stomach, the mirror me does exactly the same and then...it opens its mouth and says something.
There is no sound, just the movement of lips. I know I haven’t spoken. I’m damn sure I haven’t. As I watch, ever so slowly a hand, not my own, slips around the waist of my mirror image. I touch myself where the hand should be but it connects with nothing but empty air. I step back, watching mirror Spike do the same...right into the arms of Angel. I gasp, looking around quickly but finding no one else in the room. It’s just me and the mirror. The mirror where Angel is holding me and I’m-mirror Spike is looking up at him with such adoration. The other me reaches up and strokes Angel’s face. A gentle action that makes Angel bend his head and mirror Spike leans up, pressing their lips together.
I gasp, stumbling backwards until I collapse on the couch. Our images don’t move. They stand before the mirror, my mirror hand presses against Angel’s face as tongues entwine. They kiss with sweet erateration. I grab the bottle of whiskey, taking gulp after gulp until the bottle is empty. And still they kiss. Sweet mouths pressing together. Tongues licking lips. Tongues sliding into the wetness of each other’s mouth. I moan before I realise it, my free hand sliding down to touch my bulging crotch. The images groan and I swear I can hear the noise through the mirror. A deep vibrating sound that carries with it desperation and passionate need.
The couple in the mirror back away, moving to the mirror image of the couch I am sitting on. They kiss; touch and my copy’s hand reaches down to grasp Angel’s ass. Such a damn sweet ass, tight and perky. I shudder at the thought. I’ve never thought of Angel like that and I sure as hell don’t want to. My mirror image pushes Angel down into the soft cushions, moving forward and straddling his legs. My eyes open wide as mirror Spike sits in Angel’s lap, slowly unzipping my sire’s tight black slacks. I reach again for the whiskey bottle but find it empty as I bring the mouth to my lips.
I moan again watching myself get drawn into Angel’s embrace, large hands running down my spine to push the edge of my jeans down over my ass. I gape as mirror Angel’s hands stroke down the cleft and...No fucking way!
I jump up; squeezing my eyes shut and throw the whiskey bottle at the mirror. I hear the impact and when I open my eyes the floor is covered in bottle glass. The images in the mirror are gone and so is my reflection. The shiny surface shows nothing but an empty couch. I growl angrily, grabbing my jacket and stalking out. It was a stupid trick! That’s what it was. Or too much alcohol, because it couldn’t have been anything else!
What is really strange, however, is when I return to Angel’s office later, there is full bottle of the House of Lord’s whiskey standing in the middle of the floor - the broken glass gone as if it had never existed.
{The mirror stands alone in the dark office. The air is still and the room silent. Suddenly, a sound er out out of the mirror. A soft moan. A man’s moan. The mirror’s surface shifts and moves, the reflections of objects change and elongate. A hand emerges. A male hand. It reaches out, pushing through the surface of the mirror - searching, reaching. The mirror cracks, an ear-splitting sound that booms around the room making the ornaments shudder and fall. Objecrackrack and break, the mirror makes a high pitched squeal and a naked man steps out. The room is silent once again, the darkness covering it. The man smiles.}
Angel’s POV:
“God Angel, you are such a dork!” Spike whines, trying to snatch a glass of blood from my hand.
“Spike, just piss off!” I snarl. I’ve really had enough of him. All he does is cause trouble and complain. Thankfully, business is slow and I haven’t had to run out and do the hero thing. The downside to that is having to live with Spike’s constant interrupting. And if he isn’t causing a nuisance of himself when opening his mouth, he has to do it with his blasted hands. He fights. He breaks. He steals. He makes my life a friggin’ misery!
“Just give me a drink!” he growls back trying to snatch the blood from my hand.
“Get your own!”
“I only want a bloody swallow!”
I glare at him and he sticks his tongue out at me. I wish I could just damn well stake him! It seems we are at a stand off. Both staring at each other, the glass of blood in my hand. Then out of the blue, Spike lets out a loud scream and dives at me. The glass flies up into the air and it smashes against the tiled roof. Blood flies everywhere and in a second we are both covered.
“Spike!” I yell, running after him and grabbing a stake out the back of my trousers. “This time you are so dead!” We run out of the small kitchen beside my office and down the corridor, everyone watching us. I’ve so had enough of him. I chase him down, thinking I have him cornered but as I round the bend I hear an office door slam, and Spike is gone. I grin, thinking he’s run into an office. There is only one door at the end of the corridor and I approach it slowly. I open it and...nothing. The room is empty. Spike is gone.
Just what in the hell is going on here?
TBC