Some Devil 6/11
Title: Some Devil Author: twisted_reach Pairing: Spike/Angel, Will/Liam Rating: T Warnings: Starts with very strong language. Time frame: goes AU post NFA Summary: A take on how Shanshu might work - after the battle Spike wakes up to Will’s life. Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5
Life was passing without event. Work, gym, friends, bar, beach, shopping, cleaning, laundry, tv, reading, music, rinse and repeat. It was pleasant.
Fuck it.
It was boring.
After 120 years of mayhem and a couple of do-goodery it was bland and neutral. From his prone position on his sofa staring at the ceiling, he threw the book, open but unread, across the room - and straight out of the open window.
"Shit."
He leaned out trying to spot where it landed. Pulled on his boots and stomped down the stairs to go look. He wouldn't have bothered, but it was a library book.
Bugger that.
He didn't care where it was from. He reached the street and carried straight on into the nearest bar.
Six months. Half a year since he'd died or been mugged depending on which skewed point of view you took. Half a year since he'd lost everything that meant anything to him, even if he thought he'd been willing at the time. He felt a pang of guilt. He had gained too. Friends, good friends, who put up with his occasionally off the rails behaviour, cared about him, wanted him to be happy, let him share in their happiness. Somehow the feeling of loss always swept up and overwhelmed him whenever he wasn't paying attention.
He twirled his glass on the bar, idly wondering if alcohol was a good idea if he was depressed, and ignoring the part of him that knew it was a bad idea if he was bored. He threw down the contents and opened a tab.
Several glasses of the same later, he was sharking at the pool table. The part of him that knew it had been a bad idea mixing the boredom with alcohol, was unfortunately as pissed as the rest of him. Having lost several frames, he had suddenly regained his hand eye coordination and was chatting animatedly to his opponents while taking shots behind his back. Maybe chatting was the wrong word when they were mostly glowering.
Sinking the eight ball he smiled broadly, "So gents, who's up for another frame?"
The punch came faster than he anticipated, or maybe it was just because the last time he did this, he'd had much better reflexes. He'd also had a tougher constitution.
He hit the floor like Darla's knickers. That thought made him start sniggering. His adversary waded towards him unimpressed with the sudden bout of mirth.
"Shit! Back off, buster. Pick on someone your own size. Tony, call the cops." A small figure with an apron on came between him and the enraged troll.
Will sat up with his hand to his jaw, experimentally stretching his mouth and poking his teeth with his tongue. The pool players rapidly exited stage left in case the call to the cops wasn't just a bluff. Debbie crouched down in front of him.
"Jeez, Will. Do you ever learn?" She hauled him to his feet, "Tony, I'll take this idiot home, I can be back in half an hour, okay?"
Tony sighed, "Be back by 5:30, you can make the hours up later."
She blew him a kiss, grabbed Will's cigarettes and lighter from the bar and pushed him out of the back door.
"Give me your key." They stood on his doorstep. She held her hand out.
Will swayed slightly on the spot, smirked in a way that would once have made her knees give way, and spread his arms out, "Come and find it."
Sighing, she delved into his jeans pocket and pulled out his key ring. He pouted as she opened the door then manoeuvred him through.
At his apartment, she struggled with the sticking door, falling when he kicked it open just as she had all her weight against it.
"Careful there, pet." He grabbed her arm as she stumbled and pulled her flush against him, wrapping his arms around her.
"So not going to happen." She said looking up at him.
"But we used to have such fun together."
"Used to. You know I love you Will, but we were never more than fuck buddies, and I'm not doing that anymore. I got a girl now."
"Yeah I know." He let her go and flumped down on the sofa, legs dangling over the arm, "Don't you ever miss a good shafting." He grabbed his crotch and leered.
"Christ, you're revolting when you're drunk." She went into the kitchen, he hauled himself upright and followed her.
She was rooting in the freezer, "Better put some ice on your jaw or your boss'll know you've been getting in trouble again. Ahh!" She yelped as his arms came round her waist, "Will, gerrof." She wiggled around to face him.
"I've always wondered, are lesbians better with their tongues than men? Is wassername better than me?" He curled his tongue behind his teeth.
"I said NO!" She said it firmly, and not unkindly, punctuating it with a gentle shove to the chest.
He jumped away from her, eyes wide and horrified, "I'm sorry, Christ, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I wouldn't, I swear. God, I'm sorry." He bolted into the living room.
"Will?" She followed him, "Will? It's okay, I know you'd never-"
"Do you?"
She stopped short, frowning at him where he sat on the sofa, head in hands.
"Okay. Spill. This little drama didn't come from nowhere."
He shook his head, still in his hands, fingers messing up the curls more.
She sat down beside him.
"Will, you can tell me. You know that, right? I will take it to my grave."
"And beyond?"
"Don't believe in an afterlife, this is all we get."
"You think?"
"Come on, out with it. No sidetracking to theology."
"I nearly… once. I didn't, but nearly." Why am I telling her this?
"Oh."
"I'd never, never, get into that situation again. I hurt her, and I hate myself, and she forgave me later, but I still… I understand if you want to leave now." He glanced at the door, afraid to look at her face.
"Will, you're the sweetest lover I ever had. You're a nice guy. I can't picture…"
"I'm not. I'm not a nice guy. I'm not sweet, or gentle, or - I'm not." His voice cracked. He scrubbed the heels of his hands in his eyes.
She checked her watch. 4 o'clock. Still plenty of time before Tony needed her back for the Saturday evening rush.
"Stay. No rushing off and doing anything else stupid. I'll get that ice."
A glass of water was set in front of him, then Debbie moved his hands away and made him raise his head, carefully holding the tea towel filled with ice against his jaw. He avoided her eyes.
"Talk to me. I don't understand." She moved her head to make him meet her gaze, "You were in a relationship with this girl?"
"Yes. No. I dunno." He took the icepack from her and she sat down beside him again.
"Good start."
"I was obsessed with her, for ages. Chasing after her. She - tolerated me. I loved her, I think. Not nice and sweet, but violent… violent. I was messed-up, wild, but I tried to change. To be something she could love. But it didn't work." He took a shuddering breath.
"Then a load of stuff happened to her, life stuff, she was finding it really hard to deal with. She couldn't seem to talk to her friends about it. And there I was, still following her around. So she started confiding in me. I capitalised on it. Kept pressing her, emphasised the distance she felt from her friends, and the closeness with me and my world. We were arguing one night and the next thing you know we're fucking. Not gentle, oh no. Breaking furniture, bringing the house down, fucking like animals. Then we entered a pattern, she sneaks away for an illicit fuck with me, then she tells me I'm worthless and disgusting, she leaves, then she's back for more later. And I lapped it up. Until, finally she started coming to her senses and broke it off, and meant it. I couldn't let it go. I went over to her house one night, weeks later. To talk! I swear, to talk."
He studied the glass of water, there were little bubbles forming on the inside.
"Go on."
"I was drunk, but not drunk enough to excuse… I was trying to get her to admit she loved me, felt the same way I did. She was acting the same as she always had, I thought. 'Get lost Spike, I don't trust you, I could never love you.' I just kept coming on, like had worked in the past. She protests, I persist, we fight a bit, hurt each other more than likely, sex follows inevitably. Only I was wrong. She managed to throw me off, thank god. But I'd hurt her, really hurt her. I ran away, out of town. Came back in a right state, and she helped straighten me out, forgave me. I didn't deserve that, she was right from the beginning, I was beneath her."
Debbie looked at the back of his head and his hunched shoulders where he leaned on his knees facing the coffee table and the endlessly fascinating glass of water.
"You'd better get back to work."
"Not yet."
A breeze from the window blew open the TV guide on the table.
"Spike?"
"Yeah."
"No, I mean, she called you Spike. When did you go by 'Spike'?"
"Another lifetime."
"Kind of suits you, I guess."
"That's an awful strange part of the story to fix on, love."
"A sado-masochistic relationship without a safe word is a really, really stupid idea."
"No kidding."
"You're not beneath anyone."
He finally raised his head and looked over his shoulder at her.