"Not Responsible"; Angel ficlet; Spike/Angel
Title: Not Responsible
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Spike/Angel (if you squint)
Warnings: none
A/N: Comment ficlet for a meme over in
xanthia's journal. She asked for Spike/Angel, and the prompt was "Not responsible. Drunk with power."
Not responsible.
Oh, of course not, when has Himself ever been responsible for a twice-bedamned thing? Never his fault, is it? Can't be, he's as innocent and without fault and pure as driven snow, always has been to hear him tell it.
All that rotten Liam's fault, what happened before, and all that evil Angelus' fault, what happened after, and as for what goes in between, well, that's for Darla or Drusilla or Wesley or Lindsay or the Slayer or Wolfram & Hart or William the Absolute Moron to answer for.
No, His Bleedin' Nibs isn't responsible for any of it, he's being forced, forced y'hear, into a confrontation with Those Who Are Best Left Un-Confronted, and it's all Last Stand and Doom & Gloom and "Live this day like it's your last" and how in the name of an infinity's worth of hells did I get myself involved with another personality-challenged, criminally-psychotic, suicidal-except-I'm-the-one-who-ends-up-d
Drunk with power. That's what he is, y'see. With Liam it was alcohol and stupidity, with Angelus it was blood and insanity, but Angel hasn't got anything to be drunk on except do-gooding and Wolfram & Hart's borrowed power. No matter what face he's wearing, it all boils down to the fact that he doesn't know how to handle being in charge, always ends up killing the people around him, driving everyone away, then he puts on the sad-and-sweet tortured puppy face and there we are again, Hoorah and "Count me in" and how much you want to bet we'll end up in an alley somewhere, with him crying over our broken bodies (pile o' dust, in my case) with that same damned puppy face and being all tortured with grief, as per bleedin' usual.
Don't worry about him, though, no sir, he'll be just fine. All Shanshu'd, I'd expect, no matter about the signing away or whatever, for Angel it'll be put right and no mistake. Meanwhile, Spike'll be cooling his heels in some hell dimension somewhere, if I'm quite lucky, or even worse, I'll be taking up residence with William the Prat in some heavenly Victorian Dimension of Absolute Boredom, trying bootlessly to off myself in the drawing room with my cravat (I did try it once, when I was all alive and whatnot, but thought better of messing up Mum's carpet that way...pathetic, what? Can't even kill yourself for not wanting to inconvenience the maid).
So why am I here? What's to stop me from leaving this very minute? Got a bit of money, don't I? Enough for a plane ticket anyway, won't be comfortable, but what in a vampire's life ever is? Snug in the cargo hold, thoughts of pretty blonde Slayers to keep me company, some pig's blood on ice...could work. It's not like my chances of death aren't infinitely higher if I stay here, y'know. Don't owe him a thing, couldn't care less for his little sycophants...well, Blue, maybe, but she's Herself, isn't she, and nothing for me there, not like if she was still Fred. Don't owe the world anything, neither, did that dying thing already, quite nicely if you ask me, agonizingly painful just the way a good martyrdom should be. Surely don't fancy doing that again.
But. I'll stay. Knew I was gonna stay from the first second I came back from wherever I was in between, growling and snarling with our Peaches like when I was naught but a lowly, squirming fledgling. See, that's me, y'understand, drunk with power like I've always been, although unlike him or Dru or the Slayer, it's not my power I'm drunk on, it's theirs. Drawn to it, ain't I, like moths and flames and all that, and I'll stick around even until it kills me. Dru killed me, didn't she? Slayer, too. He's the only one who hasn't yet, but I'll stay until he does. It's just my way, it's who I am, who I've always been, even when I was William, even when I was Soulless Spike, even now as the New/Improved/Now with Soul! Spike.
Love them, don't I, even as they're killing me. Can't help but to.
It's my nature...I'm not responsible.
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Spike/Angel (if you squint)
Warnings: none
A/N: Comment ficlet for a meme over in
xanthia's journal. She asked for Spike/Angel, and the prompt was "Not responsible. Drunk with power."Not responsible.
Oh, of course not, when has Himself ever been responsible for a twice-bedamned thing? Never his fault, is it? Can't be, he's as innocent and without fault and pure as driven snow, always has been to hear him tell it.
All that rotten Liam's fault, what happened before, and all that evil Angelus' fault, what happened after, and as for what goes in between, well, that's for Darla or Drusilla or Wesley or Lindsay or the Slayer or Wolfram & Hart or William the Absolute Moron to answer for.
No, His Bleedin' Nibs isn't responsible for any of it, he's being forced, forced y'hear, into a confrontation with Those Who Are Best Left Un-Confronted, and it's all Last Stand and Doom & Gloom and "Live this day like it's your last" and how in the name of an infinity's worth of hells did I get myself involved with another personality-challenged, criminally-psychotic, suicidal-except-I'm-the-one-who-ends-up-d
Drunk with power. That's what he is, y'see. With Liam it was alcohol and stupidity, with Angelus it was blood and insanity, but Angel hasn't got anything to be drunk on except do-gooding and Wolfram & Hart's borrowed power. No matter what face he's wearing, it all boils down to the fact that he doesn't know how to handle being in charge, always ends up killing the people around him, driving everyone away, then he puts on the sad-and-sweet tortured puppy face and there we are again, Hoorah and "Count me in" and how much you want to bet we'll end up in an alley somewhere, with him crying over our broken bodies (pile o' dust, in my case) with that same damned puppy face and being all tortured with grief, as per bleedin' usual.
Don't worry about him, though, no sir, he'll be just fine. All Shanshu'd, I'd expect, no matter about the signing away or whatever, for Angel it'll be put right and no mistake. Meanwhile, Spike'll be cooling his heels in some hell dimension somewhere, if I'm quite lucky, or even worse, I'll be taking up residence with William the Prat in some heavenly Victorian Dimension of Absolute Boredom, trying bootlessly to off myself in the drawing room with my cravat (I did try it once, when I was all alive and whatnot, but thought better of messing up Mum's carpet that way...pathetic, what? Can't even kill yourself for not wanting to inconvenience the maid).
So why am I here? What's to stop me from leaving this very minute? Got a bit of money, don't I? Enough for a plane ticket anyway, won't be comfortable, but what in a vampire's life ever is? Snug in the cargo hold, thoughts of pretty blonde Slayers to keep me company, some pig's blood on ice...could work. It's not like my chances of death aren't infinitely higher if I stay here, y'know. Don't owe him a thing, couldn't care less for his little sycophants...well, Blue, maybe, but she's Herself, isn't she, and nothing for me there, not like if she was still Fred. Don't owe the world anything, neither, did that dying thing already, quite nicely if you ask me, agonizingly painful just the way a good martyrdom should be. Surely don't fancy doing that again.
But. I'll stay. Knew I was gonna stay from the first second I came back from wherever I was in between, growling and snarling with our Peaches like when I was naught but a lowly, squirming fledgling. See, that's me, y'understand, drunk with power like I've always been, although unlike him or Dru or the Slayer, it's not my power I'm drunk on, it's theirs. Drawn to it, ain't I, like moths and flames and all that, and I'll stick around even until it kills me. Dru killed me, didn't she? Slayer, too. He's the only one who hasn't yet, but I'll stay until he does. It's just my way, it's who I am, who I've always been, even when I was William, even when I was Soulless Spike, even now as the New/Improved/Now with Soul! Spike.
Love them, don't I, even as they're killing me. Can't help but to.
It's my nature...I'm not responsible.