Patchwork
 
Author: Lilithangel
 
Email: abchainey@xtra.co.nz
 
Website: www.livejournal.com/users/lilithbint
 
Fandom: AtS
 
Characters: Spike/Angel
 
Genre: drabble, kind of sad.
 
Rating/Warnings: PG for references to character death.
 
Summary: after the alleyway Spike is alone he returns to the Hyperion.  Inspired by shanmara’s manip here http://community.livejournal.com/nekid_spike_day/69598.html#cutid1
(You need to be a member of nekid_spike_day to see it)
 
* * * * *
 
It’s fitting somehow to be in the abandoned hotel making a patchwork of memories to go with his patchwork existence.
 
The battle in the alley ended with flames and dust and silence leaving him alone with the weight of the emptiness.
 
He didn’t know how or why and he didn’t really care as he fled the oncoming dawn.  He made his way into the hotel, empty and untouched since they went into the belly of the beast.
 
It was fitting that once again he was alone in a mausoleum of history so thick there might as well have been bodies slowly decaying there the way they would in his mind.
 
His company once again was that of brief recollections of care, fleeting feelings of love that did nothing to warm the loss from his body.
 
He had learnt to sew at the same time as he had learnt many skills he never thought he would need.  Trapped and angry in Sunnydale no longer able to just take what he needed once again he adapted.
 
He tore off pieces of the left behind clothing which still bore faint scents of their owners.  Added the remnants of his last tee shirt still marked with the remains of the fallen.  He backed it with a sheet from the room the smelt of Angel and filled it with a blanket that he guessed belonged to the reason for Angel’s choices.
 
He pulled off the last of his mourning clothes and curled up on the big empty bed wrapped in the scents of those that had come to mean something to him and finally slept.
 
A whisper of noise woke him some time later and he opened his eyes to what he then realised he had been waiting for and he smiled.
 
“You waited for me.” Angel said in surprise.
 
“Of course I did.” He replied.  “Figured you’d find your way here if you could.  Did you kill it?”
 
“Yes,” Angel replied shedding his smoke blackened clothes and climbing under the blanket with Spike.  “This smells of home,” he said.
 
“Now it does.” Was Spike’s answer.