Disclaimer: All characters belong to their rightful owners. I do not own any of them.
Buffy/Angel characters created by Joss Whedon
Charmed characters created by Constance M. Burge
He stood at the top of the stairs, the music a cacophony of chaos beneath him. Bodies writhed against one another on the dance floor, trying to make a connection, any connection. So long as they were not alone.
Watching the alcove that hid the sisters from public scrutiny, he sighed and took a final drag off his cigarette then flipped the butt to the floor. Maybe he should not have come back. This was turning out to be painful and he was not good at handling pain, not of the emotional variety. A swig from the bottle he carried fortified his courage giving him the confidence he needed to face her again after so many years.
The crowd seemed to part before him as he made his way to the shadowed booth where she waited, unaware of his presence, unaware that the torch he still carried for her blazed as bright as the sun at noonday.
The music shifted as he parted the thin, gauzy veil that separated the alcove from the rest of the club. The beat became slower, more melodious; filled with a deeply throbbing intensity that echoed his inner turmoil.
Three women looked up as he entered, but he only had eyes for one.
“Piper,” he whispered.
“Spike,” her eyes grew wide with disbelief.
He could feel their eyes on him, appraising him as they tried to find a mold to fit him in. “May I have this dance, luv?” he asked, holding out his hand. She placed her hand in his and allowed herself to be lead out to the dance floor.
He held her close as they swayed to the music. The world faded away as he took in her scent and felt the wild flutter of her heartbeat, strong and pulsing.
“I’ve missed you,” he whispered into her ear.
He felt a shiver run through her body when his breath touched her skin.
“You can’t be here,” she said, sadness filled her voice. “Not now.”
She buried her face into his chest, deeply inhaling the odours that made up the vampire.
“But I am,” he said, stroking her mahogany tresses. “I am here, luv. I’ll never leave you again.”
They danced the length of the song, then the next, and the one after. Finally the music stopped and they drifted to the bar. House music came on as he paid the bartender for a couple of drinks.
“Excuse me, but we’d like to talk to our sister for a moment.”
Piper’s hand tightened in his, he felt her whole body go stiff.
“Don’t think the lady wants to talk right now,” Spike said. “So why don’t you two scamper off. I promise to have her home by dawn.”
The taller of the two, Phoebe he remembered, narrowed her eyes at him and seemed about to say something.
“I’m fine guys,” Piper interrupted. “Spike’s an old friend. Why don’t you two go and have some fun. I’ll catch up later.”
A smile played across Spike’s lips as he leaned against the bar. This was an area with which he was familiar. The clash and pull of personalities, the inexorable feel of his will as it clashed with that of an opponent.
“No worries, luv,” he said as he kicked himself away from the bar and slipped a leather clad arm possessively around Piper’s waist. “I’ll keep the little lady safe. You have my word.”
Phoebe glowered at him then turned to Piper. “What about, Leo?”
“Yeah,” Paige said, following her sister’s lead. “What about your son, our nephew!”
A smirk settled on Paige’s lips when she saw that her barb had struck home.
“Bugger this?” Spike said. “I’m out.”
He turned and stormed away from the source of this new pain.
“Thanks a lot guys,” Piper snarled, hurrying after him.
“Spike, wait up,” Piper called out. “Spike!”
He stopped, one hand on the door of the emergency exit, the other holding a smoldering cigarette. His head was lowered and his shoulders slumped forward.
She reached out to him, her fingertips brushing his leather clad back. “William,” she whispered the hurt showing in her eyes when he jerked away from her touch.
“I shouldn’t have come back,” he rambled. “Should’ve known… Should’ve known that it wouldn’t work, couldn’t work…”
Tears filled her eyes. “We knew it couldn’t work,” she said.
“Because I’m not a man,” he mumbled. “No spark to light the way.”
“I didn’t know what you were,” she said. “And when I found out I couldn’t… I couldn’t stand by and watch you die.”
“Now the light’s too bright,” he said. “So bright it burns.”
He felt her behind him, could feel her confusion, her revulsion. Her nearness increased the searing agony he felt by a hundred fold, driving him to new heights of lunacy.
“I did it for you,” he stuttered, turning to face her. “All for you. Always for you.”
“What?” she asked, as he took her in his arms for one last embrace. “What did you do?”
A wave of holiness swept through the room causing his inner demon to rage. Before his eyes a shower of heavenly lights took the form of a man with a stern countenance. In his arms he held a baby.
Spike closed his eyes and drank in her scent for the last time, memorized the feel of her in his arms. “Reignited the spark,” he whispered, then let her go.
He did not stay for the aftermath. One moment he was there and the next he was out the door. The night air felt cool on his skin and for a few brief moments his mind was clear.
“Sunnydale, then,” he said, lighting a cigarette. “Bloody hell.”