Disclaimer: nothing belongs to me.
Takes place after NFA. My fist fan-fic...so be gentle. Please, please review!
He couldn't believe it. They had won. Beaten the unbeatable. It had come with prices though. He walked slowly past the carcasses. He finally found her. She was the laying on top of a demon that had massive horns on his arms. A vicious smell was coming off of the demon...but maybe it was just the smell of all the dead. Her body layed there at an odd angle. She must have been trampled on. Illyria's head laid about a foot to the right of her body.
"She was one hell of a women huh?"
"Spike?" Angel quickly looked to the source of the sound. "But...."His voiced trailed off.
"I'm dead?" He offered. Spike smirked, "Come on Peaches, you should know by now death had never stopped me before."
Angel stared in disbelief. "But, I saw it. It...." he whispered," it killed you."
"Yeah, bloody kpanryl demons....pretty damn hard to kill." Spike leaned aganist the slime-covered dumpster. "Just wanted to say congrats."
"What?" Angel questioned. "I don't think I've won anything in all this!" He swung his arms gesturing to the demon-filled alley. "Do you think I wanted it this way? That I wanted all my friends to die in MY fight?" He slumped against the alley wall, and sat down on a armor-clad demon. Not caring if it's blood got all over him. He was already covered with it.
Spike ignored Angel's hysteria. "Do you miss it?"
Angel glanced at Spike, knowing what he was talking about. "Yeah. Back then everything was black and white. Evil and good. Now, it's all confusing...like..."
"Shades of grey?" Spike helped.
Angel smiled, "Yeah. But I like this life better."
They stayed like this for awhile. Just taking pleasure in probably their last moments together for a long time. Spike watched as Angel was thinking over everyhing he's ever gone through, just to get to this point. The highest point of his life, where really, it was one of his lowest. Spike sighed, thinking of everything that had happened to him. He had one hell of life, and wouldn't change it for anything.
"What's it like? Is it everything we dreamed it would be?" Angel suddenly asked hopefully.
Spike grinned,"It's perfect."
There was a moment of silence. Maybe to give respect to where Spike would be staying, or maybe for Angel to fantasize about Heaven. Either way it lasted only a moment when it was interrupted by Spike.
"Guess we all know who gets the women in this story." Spike teased. "She'll be happy. Be good to her."
Angel stared at Spike for a little. "Who says I get her? Maybe she doesn't want me." Angel looked down at this hands. "She could still be cookie dough."
"What?" Spike laughed. "Cookie dough? You're crazy mate. Besides, I think we both know that she still loves you."
"No Spike, she loves you." Angel whispered. "I've heard the stories."
"Maybe she loves us both."
"Maybe."
"And with one of us out of the game...well I'll just say that you won by default." Spike joked.
Angel laughed. "Whatever you say Spike. But come on, like she could ever fall with a wannabe Billy Idol." He felt better; fighting with Spike made him feel normal. "Even if she did love me, I couldn't give her what she wants." he added mournfully.
"She wanted you before remember? What's the difference?"
Angel remembered. Of course he did, he thought about Buffy and their relationship everyday since he had left Sunnydale. It was the best thing to ever happen to him. A thought came across his mind. ' Yeah she wanted you, but you couldn't give it to her without turning into a homicidal maniac.'
"There is no difference, that's the problem!" Angel said angrily. "What are you doing here Spike? Why aren't you chit-chatting it up with Buffy?"
"I wanted to see it happen. Look down."
Angel didn't get to question him. Hotness had suddenly abrupted in his heart. He suddenly felt it sear through him everywhere. Angel gazed intently on his hands. There were imitting a white glow. Angel couldn't help but scream. He struggled to keep it down, but with an intense heat scoring through his body, it escaped from his throat. He looked at what he was sitting on. It was a Mohra.
"Congrats."
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