Fall From Heaven

Spike sat up all night in the same position he had assumed when he’d called Buffy the night before. His smokes were all gone and the bottle of JD was nearly empty. The sun was rising over the City of Angels. Spike greeted the morning with trepidation and sorrow. He had a job to do and he was getting no help from the person that he was here to help.

It didn’t matter, of course, what his feelings were. He closed his eyes against the morning light. He cursed the headache and the amount of liquor he had downed the night before. It was his fault.

He was caught in a battle between his feeling for his grand-sire and what he had been asked to do. What would he do? It would be easy if the soul wasn’t firmly in place. Leave the bugger to fend for himself. The soul wanted to help Angel. Spike hit himself in the chest. “Damn, thing!” he mumbled out loud to the empty room.

Questions raced through his mind. How was he going to help? How could he help a man that clearly didn’t want help? He couldn’t beat the living tar out of him. Now that would be fun, Spike thought playfully. He thought better of it, knowing that Buffy would not want that. Although he knew deep down that Buffy truly loved him, Angel always had a place in her heart. Great! Just bleeding great, he chastised himself.

Need to get going. He stood up and headed over to Angel’s study. He hadn’t heard the door open, so he knew he was in there. Spike stood outside the door and debated whether to go in. Should he knock or just enter?

He knocked; no answer. He knocked again, still no response. He tried the door. Finding it unlocked, he entered the room. Angel’s head rested on the back of his chair. A sketch pad was in one hand and an empty glass was in the other. Slowly, knowing how dangerous this could be, Spike walked to the desk and reached for the sketch pad.

“William,” was all Angel said. Spike was taken aback, and remembered the sharpness in Angel’s voice from another time and place. Angel’s eyes glared with hot, seething anger as he slammed the sketch pad down on the desk. “Leave it be!” he shouted as he threw the glass against the wall.

Spike had the urge to say something sarcastic, but knew it wasn’t the right place or the right time. “Sorry, just…” Angel cut him off.

“Spike, don’t push it,” Angel commanded. Spike could see that Angel had a rough edge to him. For several moments the two men stood in an uncomfortable silence.

“You call?” he asked with a strained voice. Spike knew of course what Angel was asking. Angel wanted to know if he had called Buffy.

“Yes.”

“Is she coming?”

“No.”

“She gave you the brush off.”

“No, not that simple.” Spike fidgeted, he didn’t really want to talk abit. it. “She told me to tell you…”

“Oh, right!” Angel said not believing Spike. Angel moved from his chair. He looked out the window and then over to Spike. “How did she sound?” he asked in a quiet voice.

“Happy.”

“Good,” Angel said awkwardly. “You hungry?” he asked.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Spike was in Angel’s office with the curtains wide open, looking out into the daylight. It didn’t frighten him at all, although being in direct sunlight for a vampire was death. The sunlight was warm as it streamed in, bathing his body. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the window. He was thinking about the last few days. Everything was catching up to him, including not having been able to sleep. He cursed himself for wallowing in his past. He was not one to dwell on what he had done as a vampire. It was a natural order. He was a vampire and a vampire’s nature was to kill, to play with their food and to do evil.

He looked back over the last few years in Sunnydale. His revelation that he was in love with the Slayer ran rampant in his mind. His attempts to kill her and to love her all played out before him. He sighed and walked over to Angel’s chair, sat down and turned on the computer.

Again he tried to access the files on Angel and the deal he had made but he couldn’t. The computer refused him access to the network. He searched the internet, looking for any reference on making a deal with the devil. There were over 415,000 entries in Yahoo and 376,000 entries in Google. How did Red do it? he questioned. He narrowed the search to Wolfram & Hart; still there were well over 12,000 entries. He sighed and began to narrow the search again, but he was afraid that it would be for nothing in the end. However, searching gave him something to do; he also realized that he needed help.

The door opened and Wes came in; Spike ended the search and pushed the keyboard away.

“Angel told me that you might be here.”

“Well, I d blo bloody well have any where else to go, now do I?”

“Suppose not. I received an interesting phone call today,” Wes said with an uncertain look on his face.

“Really, from who?”

“Rupert Giles.”

Spike didn’t hate the man. He didn’t really want to talk about Giles, nor did he want anything to do with the man who had tried to kill him. He looked up at Wes
“W
“What did Rupert have to say?”

“He urged caution, not knowing what forces brought you back.” Wes said with a strained look.

“He would say that,” Spike laughed, nodding his head. “What do you think, Wes?”

“I don’t know what to make of it. You’re not ripping anyone’s throats out… But you haven’t sung for Lorne yet.”

“I was meaning to ask why he has been trying to get me sing.” Spike said with an awkward smile.

“Ah! Right, you wouldn’t know. Lorne can read people while they sing.”

“Bloody hell, I am not going to have someone poking around in my brain, after everything that has been shoved up in it. Let’s see, chip, trigger, Giles’ little doodad and the First Evil’s mind games. No thank you, don’t think I want anyone getting a peek inside, well, not until I feel up to it.” Spike declared defensively.

“Alright then,” Wes said softly. “I won’t push.” He sat down.

Spike didn’t know what to think about the ex-watcher, only that the man looked like he had a troubled journey. They looked at each other awkwardly. Spike thought that there was something more to Wes’ being there, but didn’t know how to ask.

“I was wondering, can I ask you something? I was very intrigued when I first heard about it,” Wes said with uncertainty. Spike was not sure what the man wanted to know.

Propping his feet up on Angel’s desk and put his hands behind his head, Spike said, “ask away.”

“Your soul. Tell me how you got it.”


+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

It was night-time again and Spike could not sleep. He thought it was the lore of the night. It was in his nature to be out in the dark, hunting things, and killing things. He reminded himself that this was not who he was anymore, hadn’t been in a long time. He had changed.

He wondered when the change had taken place. Was it the chip or was it the behavior modification he had done to himself to win the love of Buffy? Or, he had to admit, it was most likely the combination of the two.

His vampire senses tingled. Spike could sense fear. In a bygone time, fear would have been good, but now… no. Not when it came from a man that he either hated or loved, depending on the century. He listened to a soft sob. He tried to ignore it, but he couldn’t. It touched his heart, against his will. After all, didn’t he have problems to deal with? He sighed heavily, got up, and put the robe on, Wouldn’t want to upset the great poofter.

Note to self: Don’t call peaches names when comforting him, he laughed. He went to Angel’s bedroom and opened the door. Angel was in a fetal position, sobbing.

Angel looked towards him and spoke softly. “Get out!”

“Not likely…” Spike paused as he walked towards the bed. It was tempting to call him some sort of name, but he didn’t. “Angel.”

“What do you want, Spike?” Angel asked angrily.

“Nothing. Just couldn’t sleep--thought I might come and have a talk.” Spike didn’t sit on the bed; instead, he sat on the floor beside the bed. Once in place; he noticed the sketch pad resting beside Angel. He ignored it, although it was tempting to snatch it and read or look at it. Angel didn’t move, didn’t say anything for a long time. His sobbing stopped. He propped his head up on the pillow.

“Figures, I have a moment of weakness and Captain Peroxide comes to my rescue,” he cackled scornfully.

“Right--as I said, I’m here for me. Couldn’t sleep, remember?”

Both men sat in silence for a long time. Spike didn’t want to push the issue and figured that Angel, in time, would talk to him. Angel spoke first.

“How did you know that you were in heaven?” Angel asked in a serious tone.

“Buffy told me what it was like.” Spike remembered the warmth of heaven. “But, I didn’t bloody well have to know, I knew. ”

“Buffy…” Angel spoke her name softly and with a tender reverence. “She told you?” he questioned in a sad tone.

“Yeah, well…” Spike could see traces of hurt on Angel’s face. He understood perfectly why Angel would be hurt. A man should be there for the woman that he loves, and Angel hadn’t been. It must have hurt like hell that another man was there for her.

“It’s okay, really.” Angel said hurriedly. “Why are you here, William?”

“Because I wasn’t done.”

“I hope this isn’t about cookies, because…” Angel stopped and shook his head. Spike sensed that Angel was not okay. “I’m“I’m here; call it what you like-- a haunting, me being a pain in the ass, which you always thought I was, or some divine intervention, which, hey, it’s me. Whatever that means, I am here,” Spike laughed, knowing full well he was here to help Angel. But telling Angel that he was here to help was the wrong thing to do. He was around Angelus enough to know that, and from what he had seen of Angel, he was still very much the “in-charge” guy.

“I see,” Angel said awkwardly. A silence came between the two men. Angel spoke in a whisper. “I hate you.”

Spike said nothing, and watched as Angel turned from him. That was the story of his life; the people that were important to him always managed to hate him. He laughed as he turned around. It was okay. He felt the fear slip away from Angel, and he could tell that he was sleeping.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Spike walked with Fred. She was showing him the science wing of Wolfram & Hart. It was her turn to play “Watch the Spike.” He laughed inwardly thinking of Angel’s gang sitting around arguing over who gets to watch Spike. He had to admit that Fred was nice. She was shy, yet very wordy, which was very annoying at times. As much as Fred reminded him of Willow, it was unlikely that the woman could be recruited to help him. She was fiercely loyal to Angel, which was a good thing, but also he knew that she was part of the deal that Angel made. They stood in the middleFredFred’s favorite lab. She was showing Spike some experiments that she was conducting.

“You don’t test on demons do you?” Spike asked a little uncomfortable. The whole thing with the Initiative had him wary of labs.

“Oh no, never on an unwilling subject.”

“That’s good. This must be a dream come true?” Spike asked as he watched Fred look over notes.

“It is.” She looked up quickly, keeping her place.

Spike sensed that she really wanted to get on with her project so he asked.

“Where is Angel?” he titled his head, pouring on the charm. He knew he had an affect on woman, and realized it wasn’t a vampire thing as much as a Spike thing. He watched her smile turn into an awkward blush.

“He’s with Cordy.” She giggled nervously.

“Oh, I was wondering where Ms. Sarcastic was. Where was she, on a long, drawn-out shopping trip?” Spike asked sarcastically

“She’s in a coma.”

“Oh, sorry to hear.” Although he didn’t know Cordelia all that well, he did feel bad for the woman.

“It’s all strange; after she gave birth to Jasmine, she fell into the coma. Poor Angel has been beside himself.”

This was a new piece of information. Spike didn’t know who Jasmine was. They passed awkward looks between them.

“Who’s Jasmine?” Spike asked.

“She wanted to bring world peace, without free will. Angel stopped her.”

“I see. So that’s how Angel got this lovely facility.”

“It’s okay. Really. We can do good here.”

“Nothing is ever that simple, pet. Can you take me to Angel?”

She smiled shyly and led the way to Cordy’s room. Once at the door, they reached for the doorknob at the same time. Fred giggled softly and Spike grinned, and then he spoke softly.

“If you have stuff to do?”

“Okay. If you need anything, let me know.”

Spike stood at the door for a moment to collect his thoughts. He turned the doorknob slowly and walked in. Angel was sitting at Cordy’s side, her hand in his. Angel looked like he was on the verge of tears, but the older vampire didn’t even notice that Spike was in the room. Spike stood in the back of the room for several moments, just watching. He heard hushed comments spoken softly to Cordelia.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen. I should’ve…If only I was faster, smarter… I could’ve, should’ve stopped her.” Angel’s words touched Spike’s heart, as he remembered that he thought the same thing when Buffy had died.

Spike tried to sit in a chair quietly, but instead brought Angel’s attention.

“What are you doing here Spike?” he asked coolly.

“Just came by to pay my respects, mate.”

“Right, and the last time you saw her you wanted to kill her.”

“Got it wrong, the last time I saw her, peaches, I wanted to kill you. Or at least maim you.” Spike knew almost immediately that it was the wrong thing to say. Angel was up on his feet, hands at Spike’s neck, and in full vampire face. Spike turned as they struggled. They crashed into the wall, leaving a nice big hole in it.

Spike threw a punch. Angel ducked and tossed a chair at him.

“Dimwit,” Angel spat.

“Nancy Boy.”

Angel again rushed at him, Spike side-stepped. Angel quickly turned and swept Spike’s legs out from underneath him, Spike laughed and dove at him again. He locked his hands around Angel’s neck. Spike’s grip loosened as Angel kneed him in the groin. Spike went forward and tackled him to the floor. Each vampire tried to get the upper hand. Spike threw an elbow to Angel’s face; Angel countered it with a head butt.

They rolled on the floor. Spike managed to straddle Angel pinning him into position. Spike was enjoying this little fight, and by the expression on Angel’s face, he was too.

“Give in!” Spike said gleefully.

“Not in this lifetime.” Angel said as he swung a left hook at Spike’s face, missing. Spike reached for Angel’s throat as Angel grabbed Spike’s arms. They started to wrestle for position, using knees and elbows. Spike crashed into a table, and then Angel was thrown into a chair breaking it.

The fighting came to a stop when a scream came from the bed. Both men turned and were reminded they were in a hospital room. After Cordy’s scream, she fell back onto the bed.

Angel went to Cordy’s side and took her hand and sneered at Spike, who stood at Cordy’s other side. A doctor came into the room.

“Mr. Angel, is everything okay?”

“She screamed!” Angel said excited.

“Sometimes…” the doctor stopped in mid sentence as he noticed that Cordy moved. Her eyes were closed, and she began to mumble. The doctor moved Cordy’s side pushing Spike away.

“Groo,” she said softly. Groggily, she began to stir a little more. Again she softly spoke. “Groo.”

Spike stood at the foot of the bed and watched Angel’s expression turn from happy to constrained sorrow. Angel’s jaw was clenched and his eyes were sad. Spike’s attention turned to Cordy again as she opened her eyes and saw Spike. She screeched his name, and tried to move away. Spike moved back, upset at himself for staying. Cordy looked to Angel and then to Spike, then back to Angel. She touched her stomach and slowly shook her head. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she grabbed hold of Angel, still keeping a watchful eye on Spike.

“It’s okay.” Angel said softly.

He smiled as he brushed back her hair and tenderly kissed her forehead.

“It was so horrible, being trapped in my own body and watching…”

“I know. It’s okay now. You’re here, awake and alive.”

Spike edged back a little more, trying to allow for privacy. Cordy finally saw Spike out of the corner of her eye.

“What’s he doing here? He isn’t trying to torture you again?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm. Angel looked over to Spike and back to Cordy.

“It seems that Spike has a soul now.”

“Oh!” Cordy said as she fell back onto the bed again, tired. Spike turned and headed for the door. He wasn’t needed right now. As he opened the door, four excited people entered.

He walked down the hall alone.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++


Spike was not happy about going out with Angel’s gang, but he was persuaded to go to Lorne’s new night club and karaoke bar. He told himself that he would not sing. There was no way on earth that he would allow that green demon to read him. He was sitting with the others and interacting with Angel’s friends, but he felt something missing. He looked over at Angel and down to his drink. It was a couple of days since Cordy had awoken.

“So, sweet cakes, when are you going to sing for me?” Lorne asked Spike yet again.

“Not bloody likely to, and I am not your sweet cakes,” Spike said sharply.

“Everyone sings for Lorne, honey. Even tall, dark and handsome has.” Lorne pointed to Angel. Spike laughed into his gin glass.

“What, don’t tell me, let me guess the song, would it be…” Spike chuckled, remembering catching Angelus in the mansion singing, although Angelus had refused to admit that he liked the song. Angel gave him a dirty look. “Mandy!” The group laughed, but Angel didn’t appreciate it.

“It’s a good song,” he said defensively.

“You can’t carry a tune, mate. And it is not a good song,” Spike said as he took another sip of his drink. The group chuckled behind their drinks. Angel glared at Spike with contempt.

Spike reviewed Angel, Fred, Lorne and Wes. Each one seemed to be there in the room with a different agenda. Silence settled over the group.

“Thank you for the help with locating the vampire codex, Spike. It was enlightening.” Wes said with appreciation. “I’d never heard of it before.” Wes seemed excited. “I never thought that a vampire would go through the trials that were described, to get a soul. Never thought a vampire would ever want to get a soul, but you did.”

Spike nodded his head as he looked from WesAngeAngel. Angel seemed to withdraw a little, sitting back into his seat, his manner reserved. “Didn’t much have a choice, mate.” Angel tensed up a little as Spike spoke. He noticed Angel’s clenched jaw. Nothing was said for a long time as the group took sidelong glances at each other.

Fred tried to make things better. “Cordy seemed to brighten up today, Angel. Spike brought her flowers, sat with her and talked about Sunnydale. He also helped her walk around a little bit.” Spike saw the hurt look on Angel’s face and spoke softly.

“It wasn’t much. I had the time, and she seemed to perk up when we talked.” They were distracted as the bar maid brought over another round of drinks. Spike was feeling uneasy about everything. He felt like a new toy that everyone wanted to play with, while neglecting their tried and true one.

Spike took out a cigarette and started to light it.

“No, cupcake, no smoking in public places in LA.”

“Bugger this!” Spike said as he put the cigarettes back into his pocket. Uncomfortable, he looked at Lorne. He thought that the only thing that could settle the nerves of the littloup oup was if he allowed Lorne to read him. He hated the idea of anyone poking around his head. “So what do I have to do for you to read me? You don’t have to put any weird things in my cranium?” Spike nervously asked the green demon.

“No, I put nothing in that lovely head of yours. You just tell me what song you want. I give it to the Karaoke DJ, he plays it, and while you sing I get vibes.”

Spike didn’t like this, but felt that tensions were running high. It was a long time since he had sung and he didn’t have too bad of a voice. He really forgot how much he liked to sing. He remembered when Sweet came to Sunnydale, how he sang to Buffy, first to tell her his feelings and then to stop her from burning up. It also made him chuckled out loud as he remembered the Chirago demon who gave a frightening impersonation of Yma Sumac. He looked up at the group and smiled.

“Bloody hell, I get to pick the song, right?”

“Sure, sweet cakes. What’s your weapon?” Lorne smiled.

“Right, no namby pamby songs, then.”

“Yes, what will it be?”

“Okay, I think I’ll do a bit for my friend. If you don’t have the song, I don’t do it,” Spike said defensively.

“I have the best selection of Karaoke this side of everywhere-- you name, I have.”

“’Don’t You Forget About Me’ ” Spike confidently.

“Simple Minds or Billy Idol?” Lorne questioned.

“Billy Idol, it’s got a crisper sound. Was there when he recorded it.”

“Really, he’s not my cup of tea, but the look…” Lorne was cut off.

“Yeah, taught him…” Spike was beginning to brag as Angel cut him off.

“Cut the crap, Spike. Lorne, do you have it?”

“Cool your hot little buns let me check.” Lorne disappeared over to the Karaoke DJ. Spike got up a moment later, after exchanging heated looks with Angel. To Spike’s surprise, they did have the Billy Idol version, instrumental and with artist. Spike chose the instrumental version. He got up on stage and took the mic. He looked at the table where Angel and his gang were sitting, tilted his head and smiled.

“Right then folks, this is a little ditty that a mate of mine sang way back when. It’s not by Simple Minds, it’s by Billy Idol.” He signaled the DJ that he was ready. He slicked up his hair, gnarled his lips and raised his right arm, mimicking Billy Idol. Spike closed his eyes as he waited for the lead in.

Hey, hey, hey ,hey
Watching ooh... yeah

Won't you come see about me?
I'll be alone, dancing and you know it baby

Tell me your troubles and doubts
Giving me everything inside and out, out
Love's strange so real in the dark
Think of the tender things that we were working on

Slow change may pull us apart
I'll get us back together at heart, baby

Don't You Forget About Me
Don't Don't Don't Don't
Don't You Forget About Me

Will you stand above me?
Look my way and never love me
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down

Would you recognize me?
Call my name or walk on by
Rain keeps falling, rain keeps falling
Down, down, down

Hey, hey, hey, hey
Watching ooh..... yeah

Don't you try and pretend
It's my feeling we'll win in the end
I won't harm you or touch your defenses
Vanity and security

Don't you forget about me
I'll be alone, dancing and you know it baby
Going to take you apart
I'll put us back together at heart, baby

Spike finished the song, and bowed after the applause. As he walked back to the table, he overheard a woman in her late 30s talking to her partner. “That has to be him. I don’t know how he does it, he’s so young-looking.” Spike laughed and shook his head.

Spike sat back down at Angel’s table and looked at Lorne.

“Well, baby cakes, I have to say you were great! More than great--you got his style down. The voice, wow, I have to sign you with Wolfram & Hart. We’ll have to update your style...” Lorne was cut off by an impatient Angel.

“So, what’s with blondie?” Angel asked angrily.

“Don’t know, Strudel, he’s bit hard to read. Let me think about it.”

Spike wasn’t sure if he was relieved or frightened by Lorne’s inability to read him. He saw Angel’s displeasure. Angel’s hand gripped his glass hard as he gulped down his drink. He got up from his chair and walked out without saying goodbye to his friends.

“Someone really needs to take the stick out of his arse,” Spike said with sarcasm.

“Do you want to dance?” Wes asked Fred, who instantly agreed as Wes lead them out to the dance floor, leaving Spike and Lorne alone.

“I read you just fine,” Lorne said after a moment. “Didn’t think Angel wanted to know right now.” Spike understood what Lorne was saying. “I can’t say that I want to be you right now.”

“Then you know.”

“It’s all there under those blonde locks, sweetie pie. Wouldn’t want your job. Having to deal with the man that put the brood in ‘brood.’”

“It’s not like I asked for the sodding job,” “Spike complained, as he took another drink from his almost empty glass. He motioned to the bar maid that he would take another drink. “It’s not like I even like him.”

“I didn’t want to be this handsome,” Lorne joked. Spike rolled his eyes, also noting those had been his words to Buffy that night, that one perfect night. A new drink was put at Spike’s side, and he took a sip before putting it down.

“Green is your color. Really.”

“What are you going to do?” Lorne asked, looking down.

“I need to know about the deal he made, and he isn’t telling. Can’t do a bloody thing until he does.” Spike ran a nervous hand through his hair. “I need a cigarette.”

“That’s a plan, apple crisp.”

Spike cut him off.

“Will you stop calling me pastries?” Spike asked not amused. Lorne laughed and raise his drink up to Spike. An uncomfortable silence came between them. Spike took another drink from his glass, which was almost empty again.

“You’re more like him than you want to admit.”

Spike shook his head and avoided the subject.

“Do you have that onion thing here?” Spike asked. His stomach growled.

“Sure do,” Lorne said as he motioned over a waitress. He spoke quickly, ordering another round of drinks, a blooming onion and buffalo wings.

“I know what you’re afraid of,” Lorne said softly. Spike was taken aback.

“Right, because you had a look-see into my brain.”

“That, and I see it on your face. You’re afraid of becoming Angel.”

“Like I want to be like the Dark Avenger.”

“There are worse things you could become. He’s a good man. A little lost, but you can learn a lot from him.” Spike rolled his eyes and shrugged his shoulders. “Look, I can tell that you’re uncomfortable about all of this. But the Powers wouldn’t have brought you down if you weren’t the right man for the job.” In the background, a woman was singing a soft, angst-filled song. Lorne looked at the woman and back to Spike. “See that woman? She has non-mystical problems. She’s going to lose her job, her boyfriend, her home and all her money next week, but she’ll be happier for it. She’s going to learn how to live again.” Lorne quickly drank from his glass. Spike noticed the look of pain in Lorne’s eyes.

“How can I be the right man when we can’t stand each other?”

“You’ll find a way, trust me.”

Their conversation was interrupted by the return of Fred, Wes and the food.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Angel sat alone in his living room. He took out his sketch pad and began to draw. His lines were perfect. The sketch was a memory that had been erased from everyone’s minds. The pencil traced an outline of the chubby cheeks of a smiling baby. He was lost in the drawing, and yearned to have that infant back in his arms.

“Connor,” he cried. “Wish you were here.” He touched the page gently. After a moment, he took another drink of vodka. He flipped back through his book, looking at images that were now gone from his life. Buffy, the woman that he had changed for, was no longer his. Darla, the mother of Connor, was dead. Connor, he couldn’t even allow himself to think about. “I killed you, my son. The father kills the son,” he spoke out loud. He turned the next page and traced Cordy’s face. He’d lost her, too. “More likely never had her.”

He had nothing, he’d lost it all. What was he good for? He was no longer the Champion, Spike was. His temper rose again as he thought of Spike. Spike, who was nothing, beat him. He’d gotten the girl, the hero’s death, the soul on his own—with no curse--and the respect of Angel’s friends. Spike could love, and make love. It wasn’t fair. Angel had paid his price, but Spike was rewarded. Angel was no longer unique, and that hurt. He turned the page one more time. The page held images of Darla, Dru and William; they too were his at one time, and only his. He touched each image tenderly. He heard a whisper of his former self deep inside.

“You really think I am gone.”

Angel lay back onto the sofa and closed his eyes.

“Far from it,” he whispered, as he fell into a deep sleep.