Destiny

Disclaimer: Not mine. I make no profit from this, I do it simply for my own perverse pleasure. Joss is God.



Destiny is a funny thingike ike thought to himself as he downed yet another shot while sitting in the empty office - Wesley's office. Not that he's supposed to be there; Angel won't give him his own space, not even now that he's corporeal again. Wanker.

Time was, he and Angelus were the best of friends. They did almost everything together, hunted, fed, killed, played. But it wasn't enough. Never enough for Angelus. No, he had to have everything. Not enough to have William's friendship, his adoration. He had to have his heart as well. Not that he gave his own in return; Spike wasn't sure that Angelus even had one.

When Drusilla had first brought him home, he had been shocked to find another man in the house, but then that had changed. Angelus had accepted him readily,kingking about his desire for ... friendship.

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"Don't mistake me. I do love the ladies. It's just lately... I've been wondering... what it'd be like... to share the slaughter of innocents... with another man. Don't... don't think that makes me some kind of a deviant, hmm? Do you?"

He was so naive then. Too innocent in ways of the world to realise what Angelus really wanted from him. It had been a hard lesson to learn, but in time – with the proper motivation - he had figured it out.

"Have a drink."

"No, that's your spoils, mate."

"I've had my fill. Go on, take her."

"Nah. I think I might go and find Drusilla. She'swlinwling for street urchins in the east end. Make her happy if I joined her for a bit."

"She's special, isn't she? Our Drusilla."

"More than that. She brought me into this world. Where I was meant to be. It's like... she's my destiny."

Our Drusilla. That in itself should have clued him in, but no. He'd had to come home that night to find Angelus and her screwing to figure it out. His destiny. What a bloody joke that was. His destiny was writhing on the bed while the big Irish git stuck it to her. It wasn't the first time, and he knew and and there that it wouldn't be the last time either.


Spike threw the crystal tumbler against the wall and lifted the bottle straight to his lips. After a long swallow, he lowered it and closed his eyes as the past reared its ugly head once more.


"Just don't get it now, do you? Well, you're new... and a little dim. So let me explain to you how things are now. There's no belonging or deserving anymore. You can take what you want, have what you want... but nothing is yours. Not even her."

"You're wrong. We're forever, Drusilla and me."

Drusilla clasped her hands over her heart.

"Are we?"

"Ah, still the poet now, aren't we, Willy?"

"William."

"Right. William. You know, you really should find a new name for yourself. It just doesn't strike the right note of terror. Tell you what... William. If you want her... come and take her."

He didn't. He let Angelus pull her away, remaining where he was and listening as he took her again, and again, and again. They rutted like beasts into the late morning hours before finally succumbing to sleep. Spike - William as he was then - had walked to the window, stood before it for long minutes, debating on drawing the curtains back, letting the sunlight take him. He had just come to the decision to do it when a hard hand came down on his shoulder.

"Tell me, now William. Surely you weren't thinking of ending it all? Not over Drusilla?"

"And what would you care, Angelus? You have no use for me; I was merely a temporary amusement. Someone to keep you company on the hunt, to look up to you and worship the ground you walk upon. And all this time, you've been making a fool of me."

"Ah, William. Still so naive. Has being here taught you nothing? We're not men anymore, you and I. And yet you still feel bound by their rules. I take Drusilla because she is mine to do with as I please. I made her, you see? But you. You are not mine, yet I would have you. Do you not see the way I look at you? The way I make excuses for us to be alone? But you, you only want Drusilla. So smitten by her act of innocence. I had to open your eyes, make you see."

"See what, Angelus?"

"That we are demons, William. And that we can do whatever we please."

Angelus had kissed him then. It had been such a shock that William hadn't even thought to stop him, and before he realised what was happening, he found himself kissing back. There was no romance, no poetry. Just this carnal lust that drove him to his knees. He felt Angelus pulling at his breaches, ripping his shirt open, and then pain. Pain the likes of which he'd never felt before. It was excruciating, but he found himself enjoying it. He felt his features shift, his f dro dropping doo bio bite into the soft flesh of his lips as Angelus plunged deeper and deeper inside of him.

His body, the same one that had enjoyed plundering Drusilla's depths so many times these past few days, felt as though it were on fire. His cock was hard, and his backside pulsed with pain from the intrusion, but every now and then, Angelus would touch something inside of him, something that made him swell even harder. It was all so new and terrifying. He revelled in this new freedom, pushing back against the older vampire to get more of him inside of him.

"Aye, William. That's it, lad. Take what you want from me."

Spike had. He'd worked himself back and forth on Angelus' cock. Finally crying out in ecstasy as his own untouched penis pulsed and spilled. He had slumped, forehead to the floor, and just felt as Angelus used him for his own release.


The bottle was brought to his lips again, the burning sensation as the fiery liquid slid down his throat made him smile. He hadn't felt anything in so long; even pain was a welcome sensation. Besides, the physical discomfort helped to drag him away from the mental discomfort this little trip down memory lane was causing him.

He had given everything he was to Angelus that day. His body, his mind, his heart and soul. Not that he had one as such, but whatever it was that inhabited him, he gave that to Angelus. He had become his mentor, the one person in the world that he wanted to please above all others. Even Drusilla.


He was never happier then when he was between the two of them, with Angelus deep inside him, and Dru writhing beneath him. He thought he had the best of both worlds; he strived to be everything Angelus was, ruthless, merciless, a killing machine. He made a name for himself, carving it in the flesh of his victims with a railroad spike. Angelus had laughed and clapped him on the back.

"Well done, boy. 'Tis a much better name to go by than William."

"Thank you, Angelus."

"Now, you need only to prove that you can live up to it."

And live up to it he had. He had surpassed even his own estimations of what he was capable of. The meaner he got, the more Drusilla wanted him. The more Angelus would praise him. They lived in demonic bliss, the long daylight hours were passed with carnal delight; the nights were filled with blood and violence. It was everything the new 'Spike' had wanted, everything that Angelus had promised. Then she came back, and everything changed.

Darla didn't like him. She took one look at him and turned her back, ordering Angelus to destroy him. Spike had laughed, knowing that Angelus loved him, that he would never harm him. It was only Drusilla's stepping between him and the stake that had saved him. He looked up at Angelus and read no regret in his eyes, no emotion for him whatsoever. He felt his heart breaking, wanting nothing more than to hide himself away and weep in loss. But he knew better. He kept his face blank, his eyes dry, and stared back at Angelus as Drusilla begged Darla to let her keep him.

"He's trouble. I've heard of his exploits from clear across the country. He'll be the death of us all."

"No he won't. He'll behave. Won't you my Spike?"

"Spike! What kind of name is that, anyway? Hardly a fitting name for one of our line. No, he's a disgrace to the lineage and if you don't move aside so he can be dealt with, I'll destroy you as well."

Spike stood his ground, not letting on how scared or hurt he was to be talked about in this manner. Dru began to wail and pull at her hair. Angelus rolled his eyes at her display and appealed to his sire.

"Darla, you know that Drusilla's visions are invaluable. They've saved us many a time. Let her keep her little toy, I'll see to it that he causes us no trouble. Besides, it'll keep her entertained while we ... entertain each other."

And that was how Spike had been allowed to remain with them. As a distraction to keep Drusilla occupied while Darla and Angelus spent all of their time fucking and feeding.

Spike hadn't changed. If anything, he became more vicious, more careless, in his kills. His frustration at the entire situation grew exponentially. Once Darla had finally sated herself with Angelus' cock, she had called Drusilla to join them in their fleshy activities. Having nothing to do to waste away the sunlit hours, Spike took up writing again, pouring his pain and confusion into verse. He filled volumes in those first lonely weeks, verse after verse about Drusilla's lovely skin, her eyes, her childlike ways. He wrote about Angelus, about his feelings of love and betrayal. He wrote about Darla, about his hatred for her.

Seeing that she was not succeeding in breaking Spike, Darla allowed Dru to return to him. She grudgingly put up with him, having to admit that he was stronger in will than she'd given him credit for. Things between him and Angelus had never been the same, however. Not once since Darla's return did the older vampire take him to his bed. Not once did he laugh with him, hunt with him, or even talk with him.

Years had gone by in that fashion.

He had come home one night, after hunting alone, to find Angelus sitting by the fireplace reading. It took him a moment to realise it was one of his journals that he held in his hands.

"Where are Drusilla and Darla?"

"They've gone hunting."

"And why aren't you with them?"

"I was waiting for you to return."

"What for?"

"To talk."

Angelus had set the book down and gotten to his feet. Spike had backed away from him warily.

"About what, Angelus?"

"Us."

Spike had laughed.

"There is no 'us' Angelus. There never was."

"Wasn't there, William?"

Spike glared at him then; his next words came out as a snarl.

"It's Spike now, mate. You'd do well to remember that."

"Oh, I remember. I haven't ever forgotten about our time together."

Angelus came closer; Spike could smell the whiskey on his breath.

"I've missed you, lad. All these years, you so close by, and me not able to touch you. Not able to make you scream and beg. How I've wanted you, sweet William."

Angelus' lips came down on his and Spike forgot all about the years of anguish and misery; he opened his mouth to Angelus and wrapped his arms around the older man as they kissed frantically.

"Quickly lad, we haven't all night. The women will be back in a few hours and they can't ever know. Darla will destroy us both if she ever finds out."

"But what is this, Angelus? Is it just a dalliance to you? Do you not think of my feelings at all?"

Angelus kissed him again, softer this time.

"Of course I do, William. I've thought of nothing else for years now. It was only when I found those books of yours that I knew you still felt anything for me. You do still care, don't you, William?"

"I do."

"Then let us have these few hours together, let them sustain us until we can be together a."<."

Of course, when Darla had returned that night, she'd brought a special gift for Angelus. A gypsy girl, favorite daughter of her clan. The next time Spike had seen Angelus had been in China, and he'd been different then. Softer. Much like William had been when he'd been first brought to Angelus.

It hadn't mattered to Spike; he'd only ever wanted to have back what he'd had those weeks before Darla came home. Angelus and Drusilla, the three of them together. He'd have curbed his killing for Angelus, fed off the wicked and the dying. If only he'd have stayed, or taken them with him. Hell, by that point, he might have just left Drusilla behind; she spent most of her nights in Darla's bed anyway. But Angelus had left them - left h aga again. He hadn't seen him again until almost a century had passed. And everything was different by then. Spike had become the most feared vampire in recent history, a slayer of slayers. And Angelus had become Angel, a vampire with a soul, who was in wit with the current slayer. A slayer Spike had come to kill.


Swallowing the last of the whiskey, Spike set the bottle down and stood up from the chair behind thek. Tk. The past few months had been painful for him, being around Angel every day, seeing him in his misery and grief. Not understanding the cause but wanting to ease his pain all the same. Knowing that he couldn't. But now, now he had hope. He had form again, and he had a reason to believe that Angel still loved him. It all came down to a conversattheythey had had a few weeks back.


"So, what's on the 'genda? Rousting a nest of venomous retirement plans?"

"Shop's closed, Spike. Come back and haunt me tomorrow."

"Air's too rarefied up here for my taste, anyhows. Down with the dregs is where I belong, isn't it?"

"And yet he's still here."

"Just thought we could hang is all. Couple of vampires from the old days doing our... hangy thing."

"You're starting to feel it, aren't you? How close you are now... to hell?"

"What if I am? Not like it's such a big, bleeding deal, is it? If a ponce like you could break out ..."

"I never escaped from hell. All I got was a short reprieve. Not even sure how I managed that."

"Oh, put your martyr away, Mahatma. Fred told me all about your great, shining prophecy. Pile up all your good deeds and get the big brass ring handed to you like everything else."

"Except for one small catch. The prophecy's a bunch of bull. They all are. Nothing's written in stone or fated to happen, Spike. You save the world; you end up running an evil law firm."

"Or playin' Casper with one foot in the fryer."

"You think any of it matters? The things wd? Td? The lives we destroyed. That's all that's ever gonna count. So, yeah, surprise. You're going to hell. We both are."

"Then why even bother? Try to do the right thing, make a difference..."

"What else are we gonna do?"

"So that's it, then. I really am going to burn."

"Welcome to the club."

"Least I got company, eh? You and me, together again. Hope and Crosby. Stills and Nash. Chico and the ..."

"Yeah, are we done?"

"Never much for small talk, were you? Always too busy trying to perfect that brooding block-of-wood mystique. God, I love that."

"Not as much as I loved your nonstop yammering."

"The way you always had to be the big swingy, swaggerin' around, barkin' orders..."

"Never listening..."

"Always interrupting..."

"And your hair. What color do they call that, radioactive?"

"Never much cared for you, Liam, even when we were evil."

"Cared for you less."

"Fine."

"Good. There was one thing about you..."

"Really?"

"Yeah, I never told anybody about this, but I, I liked your poems."


Spike smiled, Angel had to feel something for him if he liked his poems. He knew enough now about good poetry to know that his weren't even close to being good. With that thought in mind, Spike left ey'ey's office and headed for Angel's apartment. If things went the way he wanted, he wouldn't have to worry about finding his own place; he'd be sharing Angel's. Maybe this was his destiny all along.




The End