Subject: [SpikesSalvation] Phoenix Dreams- Rated PG No Spoilers
Date: Sun, 26 Oct 2003 18:15:01 -0800 (PST)
From: Jerusha Hancock <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com
To: SpikesSalvation@yahoogroups.com

Phoenix Dreams
Enigmaticblue Rated PG

My own version of how things might turn out after Chosen. S/B eventually, I 
promise.

Disclaimer: Don't own them, but I like playing with them. Please don't sue.


 Part 1: Remembering in Dreams


"I know I left too much mess and/destruction to come back again/
And I caused nothing but trouble/
I understand if you can't talk to me again/
And if you live by the rules of "it's over"/
then I'm sure that that makes sense./
Well I will go down with this ship/
And I won't put my hands up and surrender/
There will be no white flag above my door/
I'm in love and always will be/
And when we meet/Which I'm sure we will/
All that was then/Will be there still/
I'll let it pass/
And hold my tongue/
And you will think/
That I've moved on...." ~Dido, "White Flag"


 Chapter 1


He walked down the street slowly, his pace matching that of the boy's. They 
moved hand in hand, and he occasionally looked down, watching as his son 
carefully avoided every crack in the sidewalk, humming some nonsense tune under 
his breath. 'So beautiful,' he thought.

It was late, dangerously late, his experience reminded him, but Ty had been 
having so much fun at the park, had begged for just a few more minutes so many 
times, that the sun had begun to set before he knew it. Erin would kill him if 
she were still around. Their hours had been crazy for the last few months. 
They'd eaten when they felt like it, slept when they felt like it. Ty no longer 
had anything resembling a normal bed time or schedule. But it had been what 
they both had needed, floating through the last months in a sea of grief. He 
had needed this time to re-establish himself in the land of the living, to 
remind himself why it was he still remained.

His reasons for being here, now, were complex and mixed. To anyone who had 
asked back in Newport, he'd easily explained. The house was too much, the shop 
was too much: echoes of Erin inhabited every wall, every nook and cranny. Every 
street he walked down had some memory of her. It had been overwhelming, and he 
felt the change of scenery would do both he and Ty good. That was the reason he 
gave out to friends and acquaintances. But in the darkest recesses of his soul, 
he knew there was more to it than that. The city itself called to him with its 
own siren song. If he hadn't known better, he'd say he was being led here by 
something greater. Erin would have called it fate, and she would have 
understood in her own way. But her life had held him in the sea-side town just 
as her death had freed him to leave. And so two weeks earlier, he had packed 
everything up and come here, to L.A., hoping that he would somehow be able to 
find what he was looking for, even if he had no bloody idea what it might be.

He felt their presence before he saw them, and as always wondered if his sixth 
sense was left over from his previous life or if it was something more. In one 
swift motion he'd gathered Ty up in his arms and slipped down an alley. He had 
no weapons (stupid git) and the alley was not going to afford him any. There 
were three of them and one of him, and he had the boy to protect, so he shoved 
him behind a pile of garbage.

Ty's eyes were wide with fear as he stared at his father. "Dad?"

"Stay here." There was no room for argument in his tone, in the set of his jaw. 
He had little hope of saving either of them, but that was neither here nor 
there.

The vampires fanned out across the mouth of the alley, demons emerging as they 
realized their prey had some idea of what they were and what they were going to 
do. "Look," the leader said, sneering. "Our meal was kind enough to bring 
dessert." There were appreciative sniggers from the other two, but he didn't 
even flinch, just gave a sneer of his own and launched himself into battle. He 
had nothing but his bare hands ("fists and fangs" echoed in his head), but he 
took them all on anyway.

And he would have lost if he'd remained on his own. The leader tossed him into 
the wall of the alley, and he was rapidly losing consciousness when two of the 
vampires exploded into dust. The third soon followed, and the looming form came 
to stand over him. His subconscious provided the name to go with the face, even 
though he would have passed the stranger on the street without a second glance. 
"Angelus?" And then as the darkness took him further down, he whispered, "Sire?"

To say Angel was shocked would have been the understatement of the century. 
Buffy had been very specific when she'd said Spike had died. In fact, she'd 
shed a few tears over him, and the vampire had a sneaking suspicion she shed 
more than a few when away from prying eyes. And while Darla had come back from 
the dead, somehow Spike's reappearance was even more startling, maybe because 
he was at least reasonably human and most definitely not evil.

Angel sighed. His life was never simple. He knelt down next to the still figure 
of his former childe and ran careful fingers along his jaw line, finding his 
pulse strong and steady. He was about to pick him up and leave when he sensed 
another presence in the alley, also human. And—his enhanced senses told 
him—very young. "You can come out now," he said as gently as he could. "I'm not 
going to hurt you."

The boy was perhaps four or five and small for his age, with dark brown hair 
falling over his forehead. Big blue eyes, the same color as Spike's, stared at 
him in fear and wonder as tears spilled silently down round cheeks. He took a 
small, cautious step forward and looked at Spike, a small sound coming out of 
his throat. "Dad?"

Angel didn't allow himself time to mull over that little piece of information. 
"He's going to be okay," he assured the kid. "Do you mind if I help him?"

The boy stared at him for a long moment, and then said with no little doubt. 
"My dad told me not to talk to strangers."

Angel smiled slightly. A good policy, unless "dad" happened to be unconscious 
in an alley. "I'm not exactly a stranger," he said wryly. "I've known your dad 
for a while now. I'm Angel."

He seemed to consider this for a long moment, and then finally seemed 
satisfied. "I'm Ty," he informed the vampire. "I'm five."

"It's nice to meet you, Ty." Angel looked at Spike and then sighed again. It 
looked like he wasn't going to wake up any time soon, which meant he needed to 
get him out of here before any more vampires decided to try and snack on him. 
"Come on, let's get your dad out of here."

Angel picked the still figure up easily, and directed Ty to grab onto his 
jacket, wanting to be sure the boy was close. There were too many nasties out 
at night for his liking. Luckily, his apartment was only a few blocks away; 
he'd sold the Hyperion a while ago, not needing it as headquarters any longer.

Taking over Wolfram & Hart had been more successful than he had hoped for, even 
though there had been a fair number of kinks to work out. They'd managed to do 
a lot of good with the resources at their disposal, but Angel still enjoyed his 
late-night walks. The only problem with being the head of an organization as 
large as W&H, was that you never got to see the faces of those you were 
helping. Coming back to the streets, dusting a few vamps, allowed him to see 
their faces. And it made him feel good.

He glanced down at the boy, who had been walking silently next to him, throwing 
up anxious glances at his father. "Where's your mom?" Angel asked quietly, not 
wanting someone at home to be worried about her family.

"She's with God and the angels," Ty said steadily, without a shred of doubt in 
his voice. Angel wondered if that was what Spike had told him (hard to imagine 
that) or if someone else had.

"I'm sorry," he replied. "How long have you been here?" Angel was unsure of how 
much the boy knew, how much he would be aware of at his age. If all had gone 
well, he would have known. If Holtz hadn't happened, Connor would be only a 
little older than Ty, and he might have known what it meant to be a father.

"Two weeks," he replied matter-of-factly. "Dad said it was better to move 
because his memory wouldn't hurt as much. Do memories hurt?"

Angel stole a look at the man's pale face. "Sometimes they do."

They arrived at his apartment building and he told Ty the code and how to key 
it in. He was obviously a bright kid, and he did as he was told easily. The 
apartment was on the fourth floor, and Angel managed to fumble the keys out of 
his pocket and open the door, letting the boy go in ahead of him, grateful that 
there had been no trouble on the way back. He laid Spike on the couch—Spike, 
who still hadn't moved a muscle—and turned to Ty who had come to stand beside 
his father expectantly. "Is he okay?" he whispered. And Angel realized how 
frightened he must truly be, to have lost his mother and now for his father to 
have been hurt, fighting off what looked to be monsters. Saved by a stranger 
and brought to a strange place.

"He'll be fine," Angel replied, kneeling down in front of him. "He hit his 
head, so he's sleeping right now, but he'll wake up soon. Are you hungry or 
anything?"

Ty gave him a look that was half innocence, half pure deviousness. "Can we get 
pizza?"

Angel smiled at him. "We can get pizza."

Even as they waited for the food, Ty didn't say much of anything, just sat next 
to Spike on the couch, after a while laying his head down on his chest. The 
vampire found watching the two of them strangely disturbing. Well, 
heart-wrenching, really. Here was Spike, who had cut a swath through continents 
for over a hundred years. The only vampire in the history of the world who had 
managed to fall in love with a Slayer sans-soul, and then had gone out and got 
said soul for said Slayer. Died to save the world, and was rewarded with a new 
life and a son. Even though every bone in Angel's undead body wanted to cry 
"not fair!" he knew it was. Somehow, deep within his tortured soul, he knew it 
was perfectly fair, because Spike had done what even he hadn't managed to do in 
over a hundred years of soul-having: he'd attained redemption.

He took it back. It really wasn't fair.

The pizza came, and Ty pulled away from his father for long enough to come and 
eat, digging in hungrily to pepperoni and cheese. Angel didn't bother joining 
him; he'd never been much for human food. And then Spike began to stir.

The vampire moved towards him, but stopped when the other man called for his 
son. "Ty?! Ty—" Pizza was no comparison to dad, apparently, because the boy 
dropped his slice and ran into his father's arms.

"Dad." He pulled back from his father after a moment's time to introduce his 
new friend. "Dad, this is Angel, and he said he knew you, and we got pizza, and 
he's really nice, and he beat up the monsters. Dad—" He stopped when he saw the 
look on his father's face, which had been drained of all color.

Angel watched as Spike shook his head, as though not quite believing what had 
happened. "You were supposed to be a dream," he protested. "I thought it was 
all just a dream."

There was a long silence, neither of them quite sure what to say, until Ty 
spoke again. "Dad?"

As if waking from a trance, the man who had been Spike turned to the boy. 
"'salright, luv," he soothed. "Why don't you go eat your pizza while Angel and 
I have a little chat."

With Ty safely ensconced in front of the TV, contentedly munching on his pizza, 
Angel led the way out onto his balcony. "I don't blame you for being a little 
shocked," Angel began in a conversational tone. "Last I'd heard you were dead."

"Spike is dead," the man replied. "At least, that's what I do remember." The 
ghost of a smile flitted across his face. "All I remembered when I woke up was 
that my name was William and Spike was dead. I wasn't even sure who Spike was 
at the time."

Angel looked over at him. "But you know who I am."

William shrugged. "Somethin' inside me does, I s'pose. Told you, I didn't 
remember much of anything. Wasn't until after Ty was born that I started havin' 
the dreams, and that's all I thought they were. Till I saw you standin' in 
there." There was a long silence. "It's true? I was a vampire?"

The older man was silent. He wasn't quite sure what to tell this William about 
his past. What a shock to wake and find out every horrible thing you'd done, 
every nightmare that had haunted you, was true. To find out you hadn't always 
been a man. "Yeah, you were." He looked back into the apartment where Ty was 
sitting on folded knees, engrossed in some show. "He's your son?"

"In every way that counts," William replied. "I met his mum when she was about 
five months pregnant with him. She hadn't a clue who the father actually was; 
she'd gotten a bit pissed at a party and didn't remember what had happened. But 
we got on well, and she wanted someone's name down for him, so I agreed."

"You loved her," Angel said flatly. It surprised him, somehow, to know that 
Spike—William—had moved on from Buffy after what he'd been told. At the same 
time, if he remembered nothing, how could it even be called "moving on?" "What 
happened to her?"

He sighed, looking out over the railing at the streets below them. "Her heart. 
She'd gotten a virus that damaged it and went into congenital heart failure. 
She was on the transplant list, but she had a rare blood type and they didn't 
find the bloody match in time." He paused. "And I loved her more than I can 
say."

"I'm sorry." And he was, he realized. Spike may have gotten his reward, but 
he'd also been hurt by it. "What will you do now?" he asked, suddenly curious. 
But it was more than that. Spike had been a part of him for well over a 
century, and Angel still felt a tenuous connection. Angel wanted to know this 
man, to know who he was after having been turned inside-out and upside-down.

"Damned if I know," William admitted with honesty. "Find a job, take care of 
Ty. Beyond that I hadn't really thought much, you know."

Angel hesitated, and then took the leap. "Come work for me."

William turned to face him, and for the first time the vampire found himself 
cataloguing the differences he saw there. Brown hair had replaced blonde. Pink 
had tinted dead flesh and lines had formed around the ageless eyes and mouth. 
He would be about thirty, Angel realized in shock, older than Angel had been 
when he was turned. And he'd always thought of Spike as younger. "I thought we 
hated each other," he replied, truly surprised.

"Do you hate me?"

The bland tone drew a real smile to William's face for the first time that 
night. He should be more shocked, he thought, coming face to face with his past 
as he had. He should be floored. Instead, he found himself acknowledging that 
some part of himself had always known. The dreams had always been too vivid to 
be mere dreams. "Not really, but give me some time."

Angel found himself smiling as well. He really had hated Spike, and yet there 
had always been something about him, some spark that made him impossible to 
kill, even when he'd been Angelus. William's calm face held it too; it was 
merely hidden better. "So come work for me," he encouraged. "We're family, 
after all."

William looked back over his shoulder at his son again. He needed to find work, 
of course, but he'd made enough from the sale of the book store to hold him 
over for a while. What he really needed were other people, people he would be 
able to trust with his son should something happen to him. Erin's death had 
brought his own mortality home, and if he should die Ty would be alone.

And as Angel had said, they were family of a sort. There was a good sized piece 
of him that wanted to find out everything he could about his past, to 
understand why he'd been brought back, what purpose he was supposed to serve. 
This vampire might have some of the answers. "Alright, then," he found himself 
saying after a long consideration. "I could use the work." And then after a 
moment he frowned. "And what exactly is it I'll be doing?"

"But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this 
extraordinary power belongs to God and not to us. We are afflicted in every 
way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted but not 
forsaken; struck down but not destroyed." 2 Cor 4:7-9

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