The Crypt: Lonely No More by angelspike69 and anamcara42

Rating: Adult. This story contains M/M sex. If that isn't your cup of tea then go away now and don't read any farther.

Warnings: None. This story takes place after the final scene of "Not Fade Away".

Disclaimer: Unfortunately, Angel and Spike don't belong to us. If they did, they'd be following up all their fighting snarking with each other with lots of shagging (lol).

Spoilers: None, unless you haven't seen Angel the Series at all. This story goes totally AU after the screen darkened in "Not Fade Away".

Notes: This story is written for the Forging_Ghost Ficathon. The idea for this story is based on Challenge #200 issued for our fantabulous leader Ghost_Forge. Songs used in this story include in order - Let Me Love You by Tim McGraw, Maybe It's Love by Trisha Yearwood, Carry on Wayward Son by Kansas, The White Cliffs of Dover by Burton and Kent, I Melt by Rascal Flatts, Here for the Party by Gretchen Wilson, This Love by Maroon 5, Lonely No More by Rob Thomas, and Forever and For Always by Shania Twain.

Summary: The only survivors, Angel and Spike have relocated. They attempt to lay low in Middle America together. For the first time, they get a shot at a "normal life", doing "normal things." The fact that everyone thinks they're together was unexpected.

Saturday evening Angel was startled by a truck's approach soon after they returned from Duffy's. Spike came rattling down the stairs carrying his duffel.

"Goin' into Chicago with Colin, Angel. Some bands we want to hear. Not your type." He ruffled through his bag as he spoke, not looking at the older vampire. Finally he glanced up, smiled and took off yelling, "See ya in a few days. You can listen to your poncey music in peace."

Angel said nothing, shocked at Spike's sudden departure; wounded that he made plans secretly. The older vampire shoved away the hurt he initially felt and allowed anger full rein in his mind. He went into his room and packed a bag. He searched for his cell phone but it wasn't where he left it. He scowled and picked up his wallet, checking to see how much cash he had. There was nothing and his credit card was gone. He stiffened and his anger turned to rage. Spike expected him to pay for everything – his clothes, his computer, his CDs, their trip to Chicago, the jeep. The only thing the younger vampire paid for was the motorcycle and Angel had given him money for that too. The older vampire seethed and cursed.

Since he had not had a bank account for most of his long life, Angel was used to keeping money in the house. He stomped into his bedroom and went to the closet. Reaching way back on the shelf, he pulled out the small bag that he had hidden there. He drew out the suede notebook he had retrieved from the basement of the hotel. He had bought it for Wesley's birthday. The former watcher was used to keeping a personal journal and Angel thought he would like to continue. He untied the book and found the cash he had secreted. It was a good thing he did, since Spike had left him with nothing else. He growled and packed quickly, found his keys and drove to Duffy's.

The barkeep was surprised to see his employee. "Couldn't stay away huh?" He smiled at the vampire, but his face turned serious when he saw that Angel didn't return his greeting. "What's wrong Angel?"

The vampire sighed. "Mr. Duffy, I need to go away for a few days. Will Jack be okay by himself?"

The older man looked at his new friend. "Is everything all right? Where's Spike?"

"Did you two have a fight? You know he's a scallywag Angel. I see how he likes to rile people, get them excited."

Refusing to answer the man's query, he repeated his request. "Is it okay if I go? I'll be back in a few days."

Angel looked into the man's eyes and saw his concern. It reminded him of all of the times Wesley looked at him like that. He didn't want to worry the man who had been so good to him. "I promise. I'll be back. I just need..."

"Wait a minute." Mr. Duffy demanded. He turned and went into the back room. A few minutes later he came out and handed Angel a set of keys and a sheet of paper. "I have a cabin in Fisher Creek on Lake Michigan. Go there for a few days. Sort things out. But ..." The old Irish man looked intently at his young friend. "Go into Chicago. Have fun. Don't stew too long. He's young and thoughtless Angel, but he's not... you are good friends, everyone can see that. You just had a disagreement. Time apart will...I got that cabin so I could go off once in a while. I loved my wife, but...sometimes you have to be on your own."

Angel didn't know what to say so he took the keys and the directions and attempted a small smile. "Thanks Mr. Duffy, you're a good friend."

Angel nodded and left the bar. He looked over the directions and drove the two hours to the tiny cabin in the woods next to a small river that spilled into Lake Michigan. Although he enjoyed the peace and solitude and walked long hours on the beach after dark, Spike haunted him. He read but did not open his sketchbook; he knew whose face would stare back at him from the pages. After a few days, he remembered what Mr. Duffy said. He packed his things and drove into Chicago. He got a room at the same hotel and was surprised when the desk clerk remembered him.

"Oh, he's away with friends." Angel took the key and walked to the elevator mumbling how everyone remembered Spike, asked about Spike. He was certain no one asked about him. He forced himself out of the self-pity. Mr. Duffy hired him first and cared enough about him to lend him his cabin. Spike had to ask for a job. Fiona confided in him about the trials of her love life, not Spike. Even Jack asked him to stay for a few beers one night after Spike left with his bandmates. He grimaced. He was whining, feeling sorry for himself, like Spike did so often. Shaking his head, he went to his room, unpacked, showered, dressed and went out. He stopped first at the Double Door. The Coors were playing. Relaxing, he ordered a drink. Spike would never come to hear the Irish band. He stayed until the bar closed and then hurried back to his room to sleep through the day.

The next evening, he checked the weekly entertainment guide in his room. The Joffrey Ballet of Chicago was performing Giselle at the Auditorium Theatre. He called to see if tickets were still available. The person on the phone told him he could reserve a ticket using his credit card. He bristled and said that his card had recently been stolen but he would stop by the box office. He asked if formal dress was required and was surprised at the response.

"God no! They may do that on the first night when all the millionaire patrons attend, but the rest of the time it's for normal people. Jeans and a sweater are fine." The young woman replied.

He thanked her and hung up the phone. He showered and dressed in gray slacks, a crème shirt and black blazer that he had brought with him. Jeans might be fine in Lake Geneva, but Chicago was a big city. While he was tying his tie, he recalled the last time he had seen Giselle. Gunn had been furious when Angel returned with tickets for the ballet instead of...he couldn't remember the name of the band. He and his friends had dressed formally and gone to the performance. Cordelia and Fred looked beautiful in their gowns. At intermission, he had gone backstage to investigate why the ballet was exactly the same as he had seen long ago – same dancers, same costumes, everything. Cordelia had followed him and ...they had been possessed by the spirits of the prima ballerina and her secret lover and...and he and Cordelia had...He moaned at the memory of the brief intimate moments they shared. He had tried to tell her about his feelings when they returned to the hotel, but the Groosalug had arrived from Pylea and he never got the chance. Another person lost from his life.

Angel shook the painful memories away, finished dressing and left the room. He thought about driving but figured it would be better to get a cab. He didn't know the city that well and he wanted to make sure he got to theatre early enough to get a ticket. When he arrived, he asked about box seats and was surprised that one was available, at a very expensive price. He found the box and chose a seat in the back row where a curtain would keep him invisible from most of the audience. Just after the house lights flickered, an older couple entered the box; they nodded to him and sat in the front. The theatre darkened, the music began and the curtain rose on the opening act of the ballet. Angel sat riveted, allowing the music to wash over him and the beauty of the dancing to soften his bruised soul.

He didn't leave his seat during the intermission, just sat lost in thought. The lights darkened and the ballet continued. He left quickly before the final curtain and hurried to find a taxi, still wary of being seen by someone from Wolfram & Hart. He got into the cab and asked the driver if he could recommend an upscale bar, not necessarily a restaurant. Fortunately the man was courteous and knowledgeable about the city and mentioned The Berghoff, a bar that had been in existence since 1898. Even during Prohibition, the bar stayed open, serving near beer and Bergo Soda Pop. Unable to survive on those sales alone, the owners expanded into a full service restaurant. After Prohibition ended, the bar and restaurant continued to prosper. Angel enjoyed hearing the history and told the cabby to take him there.

He gave the driver a large tip and the man asked Angel if he wanted him to come back for him. The vampire told him to come back in two hours if he could. Angel went inside and was immediately charmed by the old time feel of the place. He stood at the end of the bar and observed for a while. When the bartender finally saw him he ordered a beer and found a small table in the back to watch the crowd surrounding him. After a little while, a waiter asked if he wanted another beer. He said yes and for the next hour he drank beer and tried to keep thoughts of Spike out of his mind. Several women smiled at him from their tables. Their attention cheered him a bit, but he merely nodded and looked away. He was in no mood for conversation. He checked his watch and saw that it had been almost two hours. He paid his bill and walked outside, not sure that the cabbie would return. After a few minutes, he heard a horn and recognized the driver. He got in and rode back to his hotel, once again tipping the man very well. He smirked to himself. Everyone always accused him of being cheap. He wasn't being tight with his money now.

The next night he went to a Film Noir festival at The Music Box, a theatre built in 1929 that had an organist that played during intermission between films. He saw Alfred Hitchcock's Notorious, Suspicion and Rebecca. He went back the next night to see Dark Passage, The Lady from Shanghai and Laura. It had been so long since he had seen movies in a theatre. Watching them on television was not the same.

The following night he went to the Green Dolphin Street Club to hear jazz. He didn't recognize any of the performers, but the music was very good. The next night he saw a performance of Othello at the Chicago Shakespeare Theatre. The Moor's suspicion and jealousy made him uncomfortable. He knew that he shared that trait with the character, but the play was compelling and the Bard's language was a joy to hear. He was happy. He had gone to the ballet and a powerful drama by Shakespeare, watched some of his favorite films and listened to great jazz. No one he knew would have enjoyed themselves at any of these events. Spike would have been bored to tears. Angel checked out at dusk the following day and drove to the Double Door, telling himself it was not to see if Spike was there. A singer named Rob Thomas was performing. He listened for a while but the longer he sat, the more the man reminded him of Spike – the timbre and raw emotion of his voice. When the singer took a break, Angel got up to leave. He stopped in the lobby and asked if the singer had an album.

"An album? Oh, yes. This is his first solo CD – Something to Be. If you wait, he'll sign it for you." The young woman smiled up at him.

"No thank you. I'll just take the CD." He paid the woman and left the club, a refrain of one of the songs repeating in his head as he drove back to Lake Geneva.

I don't wanna be lonely no more,
I don't wanna have to pay for this,
I don't wanna know the lover at my door,
Is just another heartache on my list
I don't wanna be angry no more,
But you know I could never stand for this,
So when you tell me that you love me know for sure,
I don't wanna be lonely any more.

*************************

Spike had returned about 2 am Wednesday morning to an empty cabin. He willed his fear down and walked around the cabin. Angel's bag was gone and some of his clothes. He left no note. A bit worried, the vampire walked around outside, refusing to believe that Angel would have really sat out in the sun. He saw no pile of dust anywhere around the house or by the lake. He ran outside and jumped onto his motorcycle racing to the bar. Mr. Duffy was locking the door when he roared up. He turned around and smiled when he saw Spike.

"No, he's gone away for a few days, like you did." Mr. Duffy's eyes were not friendly. "He was rather upset Spike, I was concerned."

"He said he had to get away for a few days. He asked for the rest of the week off." The barman waited to see what Spike would say but the vampire merely nodded, mumbled his thanks, got back on his bike and sped away.

Spike returned to the cabin, his fury mounting. This was Angel's MO. He always left without saying anything. He stomped into the cabin, grabbed his cigarettes and went out onto the deck, listening intently for the sound of the jeep, but there were no sounds except those of the night animals. He couldn't sit still. He went back inside and stalked into Angel's neat room. He opened drawers and checked in his closet. He found Wesley's journal beside the bed. Angry and worried, he returned to the living room. Angel had left a few of his sketchbooks on the floor, which in itself was strange since he always put everything away. Spike threw himself down on the sofa and began to page through the drawings. Cordelia, Doyle, Fred, Gunn, Wes, Lorne, even Illyria – he had drawn many sketches of his friends. He kept flipping. There were none of him. He threw the book onto the floor and picked up another. This one contained drawings of Buffy and toward the end, Faith. Another had drawings of Darla – pregnant – and then many sketches of a baby. On the last few pages, he saw pictures of a young man, dressed in skins. It was the boy, Connor, just after he returned from that hell dimension.

He stood and carried his bag up to his loft. He tossed the duffel on the bed and turned to the window deciding to sit out on his roof to smoke. There were two sketchbooks on the floor next to window. One of them was small and worn. He picked them up and climbed out. He opened the older book first and saw that the pages were almost transparent with age. It was filled with sketches of him back in the day – mostly naked, stretched in front of the fire, lying on the bed reading. There were several sketches of him in the big iron tub in the kitchen of the house in London. He had loved when Angelus bathed him. He was furious when his eyes filled and tossed the book aside. The second book was filled with drawings of him too. There were some of him when he first came to Sunnydale. Angel captured every emotion – his disappointment that his Sire had a soul and was working with the slayer, his mockery when he had tied him to the bedposts, the fury when he almost staked his Sire, his tenderness with Dru. The final pages were filled with sketches drawn when Angelus took over Angel's body. In these he was tied up, tied down, bent over. Spike erupted in fury and tore every sketch out of the book, ripping them into tiny pieces as he ranted and cursed. He stomped down the stairs to make himself blood, muttering and remembering. He stayed awake all day waiting, even though he knew Angel couldn't come home in daylight. But he didn't come home the next day either. Colin called to ask if he was planning to sing that night. Spike said he was. He showered and dressed with care, determined to be the darling of every woman in the place.

His performance was frenetic. He sang rock and roll and up-tempo country, no ballads. He danced around the stage and flirted with all of the women, taking a different one outside after every set. He did not go near his older groupies who watched the display with deep concern. He left quickly at the end of the evening, stopping to speak to no one. Everyone was puzzled at this new Spike and none of them liked the change. His behavior was the same the next night. Before he could leave, Bill Reilly came over to him.

"Spike, I've known you for several months. This is not the man I know." The older man put his hand on the vampire's arm.

Spike shook the hand off and almost snarled, "Look, this is me, the real me." He turned abruptly and left, hopping onto his bike and tearing out of the parking lot.

Mr. Duffy, Bill Reilly, Rose and Joe stood looking after him saddened by the change in their friend and concerned about Angel's long absence. They all knew that something had happened between the two young men that led to this harsh new Spike.

"All I know is that Spike went off with Colin and the others for a few days. Angel came in and asked for time off. I could tell he was unhappy. I sent him up to my cabin for some peace. It's been a week. I thought for sure he'd be back."

Rose spoke up heatedly. "I could knock their heads in. We all know they love each other, why can't they see it? They make each other crazy. They watch each other constantly. Angel bristles whenever Spike gets near a pretty girl. Spike practically spits when he sees that Dawson girl sitting at the bar, with those skintight tops and no bra."

The men laughed but there was no joy in it. They said goodnight and left, each lost in worried thoughts for their two young friends, wracking their brains for what they could do to help them see how much they meant to each other.

Spike rode home dangerously fast. He skidded into the driveway and almost crashed into the jeep. Angel was back. Jumping off the bike, he let it fall while he stomped into the cabin. Angel's poncey classical music was playing. Enraged, Spike ran into the older vampire's bedroom, but he wasn't there. He went out onto the deck but the chairs were empty. Finally he stood still sniffing his Sire's scent and listening. He raced up the steps to his loft. Angel was sitting on the rooftop arranging the torn pieces of the drawings into little piles.

Angel didn't turn around but spoke quietly, his jaw clenching. "I decided that going away alone for a few days was a good idea."

"You didn't leave me a note. I had no idea what happened to you!" Spike was almost shrieking. "I thought you left again, like all those other times."

Fuming Spike grabbed the older vampire and dragged him inside. "Look at me Angel." Angel looked into Spike's blue eyes flashing with fury.

His own eyes hard, his voice raspy and dangerous. Angel glared at the younger vampire as he answered. "Oh, it's okay for you to just leave suddenly, but not me? Why? Because you need me. You are dependent on me, as always. You get to fly off with your friends and I'm supposed to wait here in case you decide to spend time with me or in case you get into trouble? You get a paycheck from Mr. Duffy, but you took my money and credit card. Saved the world did you? I heard you telling Fred you just stood there and let the flames come. You didn't have to do anything. You just waited for the fire to take care of everything. That's what you do Spike; wait to be taken care of."

The older vampire looked at the shock on his Childe's face and waited for the angry torrent of words that would surely come. But Spike just stared and said nothing. He turned and walked down the steps. Angel followed and spun him around, holding his shoulders tightly. His voice low and full of emotion, he continued.

"You know why I left Spike. I had a soul, Darla threw me out. She was my Sire and she made me leave. Why would I think that you would want me? I came back in China because I was desperately lonely. I missed my family, but my soul tortured me. Even though I killed only criminals, it burned inside me. You were so proud and happy that you killed the slayer. I couldn't celebrate with you. Darla demanded that I drain an innocent baby. I know I did in the past, but I was no longer Angelus. I no longer belonged with you. I no longer belonged anywhere. I thought Darla would tell you about my soul. I expected you to sense it. It didn't occur to me that you would not learn the reason I left."

Finally the angry blonde vampire responded, snarling. "Oh woe is me. I have a soul. I'm no good. Well that doesn't work Angel. I have one too. I am sorry for what I did back in the day. But I was a soulless demon doing demon things. I've been doing good for a while now. Not that it'll ever balance the scales, but it's something. I don't hate myself. I don't push everyone away. I expect you to take care of me? You want everyone to feel sorry for you. Oh poor Angel he is so sad. That worked with Buffy and your other friends. It doesn't work with me. I know you. You are a brooding, self-centered...Enough. The past is past. I want to try to have a happy life, have fun, enjoy my friends and I can't with you hovering like some black cloud over me. We're done Angel. I won't live your way and you can't live mine." Spike shrugged away from Angel and strode outside.

"Who's leaving now Spike?" Angel shouted, the roar of the motorcycle swallowing his words. He stood and watched his Childe hurtle down the road.

Angel went back inside the cabin. Spike's scent was everywhere. The silence was oppressive – no computer games with deafening sound effects, no clicking of the remote switching channels incessantly, no blaring music reverberating throughout the rooms. It was too quiet, too lonely. Although he had lived alone for a long, long time, he had gotten used to having people around him. He sought Fred out in her lab, pretending of course that he was acting as a boss and checking up on things. He worked with Wesley doing research and sat with Gunn talking about cases. He even dropped by Lorne's office occasionally knowing that the green chanteuse would make him laugh. He had spent hours watching Spike battle with Illyria, often secreting himself behind the two-way glass to the side of the training room, so the younger vampire wouldn't know he was there.

He couldn't bear the quiet anymore. The words he hurled at Spike played over and over in his mind, torturing him. He did push people away. He hid from everyone and allowed thoughts of his horrible past to torment him. He had lost hope when they first came to Wolfram & Hart but regained a little when they all worked together. And then...Fred. He couldn't save...he chose not to save Fred. He fought the Senior Partners and decimated the Black Thorn, but at what cost? He murdered Drogyn. All of his friends died. Everyone but Spike was gone and now he was pushing him away.

Finally he realized his need for his Childe. He could not...would not live without Spike. Somehow they had to manage their differences...they had to stay together. Angel spun around and hurried back outside. He jumped into the jeep and headed down the road hoping to find Spike, to apologize for all that he said. To ask...to tell his Childe how much he needed him. Angel wasn't really watching the road. His mind was on what he had to say when he found Spike and worried that the younger vampire would not feel the same. Finally bringing his attention back to his driving, he was shocked to see a deer in the middle of the road. Angel swerved to avoid hitting the animal but he pulled the wheel too hard and he was going too fast. The jeep careened out of control, left the road and rolled down the hill.