shapinglight | The Calendar Post: Mirror, Mirror

1st of September today, which means another Calendar Post to go with the latest picture from my

sueworld2003 fanart calendar. Looking back, when I decided at the beginning of the year to try and produce a piece of fic for every picture, I was obviously suffering from delusions of grandeur, but I suppose I'm not doing too badly, am I, even if a large proportion of the posts are drabbles.

On to the post, which this month is an extract from a story I started last year for

spring_spangel but was unable to finish in time because it was so long. Other stuff intervened and I still haven't finished it, but I'm hoping that posting a bit of it might galvanise me into doing so, if only because I have a horror of unfinished WIPs and posting an extract might make me realise this is in danger of becoming one.

Setting: Post NFA, and things didn't turn out so well for our heroes
Rating: R, for swearing, of which there is a lot
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Art:

sueworld2003
This being a WIP, everything is subject to change.

Mirror, Mirror

"So – what d'you think?"

Angel opened his eyes, to find Spike's face hanging in the air in front of him. It looked huge, filling all his vision. Disoriented, he put out a hand to push it away, but his fingers encountered nothing but a cool, hard surface.

Spike raised one eyebrow.

"You're tiny. That makes a refreshing change from the Incredible Hulk act." He loomed closer, peering curiously. "Looks different where you are from where I was. It's all black."

"Do you mind standing back a bit?" Angel blinked to get him back into focus.

"Asleep, were you?" Spike sounded envious. "Wish I'd managed to get some kip. Couldn't."

"I was meditating." It had taken Angel a while to bring himself down from the initial bout of claustrophobia, but perspective was a wonderful thing. At least he knew his time in this tiny black box was finite. Down on the ocean floor, he hadn't known anything of the kind.

"Yeah?" Spike tilted his head. "Guess all those years you spent brooding came in useful after all."

He frowned. "You left me alone all fucking night. Where did you up and disappear to, then – and more important – did you bring any blood back with you?"

"No." At the mention of the word 'blood', Angel's empty belly rumbled. He'd meant to get hold of some after his audience with the mage, but time had run out on him.

"Arsehole," Spike said, bitterly. "It's 90 fucking degrees out there – sunny as hell. I'm trapped here."

"I’ll get some tonight." Angel glared at him. Then, at the look on Spike's face, "I promise, okay?"

"Yeah, cuz your promises are worth anything." Spike was beginning to work himself up into a temper. "Wes and Charlie believed in your promises – Fred did – and look what happened to them."

"Hey!" Angel grew angry in his turn. "Keep them out of this."

"Don't need to, do I?" Spike sneered. "They're dead. Wish I was an' all. Wish I'd stayed dead after Sunnydale, for that matter. Was better off that way."

Angel rolled his eyes. "Weren't we all."

"Fuck you!" Spike's voice dropped to a furious growl. "Was the first one to stick up his hand and volunteer for this suicide mission, remember? Show a little gratitude."

They glared at each other, but in the end, Angel looked away first. What was the point of arguing?

Spike seemed to come to the same conclusion. Angel heard him sigh. Then, he said, "So – you find anything out on your jaunt last night? We gettin' out of this soon?" Venom edged his voice. "Wanna take the fight back to those shitheads for what they did to Charlie and the old god-king."

Angel stared off into the corner of his prison. He could still see Spike's white face, however, out of the corner of his eye.

"I don't think we're going anywhere for a while," he said. Then, as succinctly as he could, he told Spike what had happened with the mage. It wasn't at all the conversation he'd hoped to have with him, which had gone more along the lines of, I have a lead. We'll be out of this mess soon, and we can both go our own sweet ways, now fuck off and leave me alone.

"His head exploded?" Spike's mouth was hanging open, and his eyes were round with astonishment.

"Yeah – and all he said was that there might be a way to break the curse, or there might not. Not very helpful at all."

"No."

Suddenly, Spike was glaring at him. "You keep Buffy the fuck out of this, you hear?"

This was too much. Angel's hand balled into a fist and he struck out impotently at the glass. His hand impacted with the surface with bone-jarring intensity, but at least he had the pleasure of seeing Spike jump back, looking startled.

"You too," Angel snarled, "and that goes for her friends as well – and Giles."

Spike bellied up to him again. His eyes flickered golden. "Wouldn't ask old Rupert for anything anyway. Not after what happened with Fred."

Angel felt the flames of his temper flicker out and die. "Me either."

There was a short silence. Then, Spike said, "We're stuffed, aren't we?"

Angel shrugged. "Never say die, I guess."

It was Spike's turn to roll his eyes. "In this case – literally." A muscle twitched in his cheek. "One thing I know, bein' stuck like this – tied to this mirror – it's gonna get old bloody fast."

He was back to glaring at Angel. "You'd better think of something – quick."

"Me?" Angel gaped at him. "What about you? Why do I have to do all the thinking?" He held up a hand. "No, don't answer that. It's because you're an idiot, isn't it?"

"No." Spike gave him a wounded look that turned quickly into a sneer. "It's because you're management and you're used to all that planning stuff – fucking the workers over, whatever."

"Whereas you, of course, are just working class salt of the earth. Yeah, Spike, tell that to someone who doesn't know where you come from."

Spike gave him two fingers.

"Up yours, you Mick bastard."

Angel laughed, while something Angelus-like and ugly bubbled to the surface. "Touch a nerve, did I, William? But then you always were easy – in every sense of the word. Dru and me used to laugh about how stupid you were behind your back, and you never even knew."

Spike's face was white and tense with fury. He spoke through gritted teeth. "I ought to smash this fucking thing. The world's better off without you – better off without us both."

Suddenly, his face was gone from the mirror and Angel realised he was about to make good on his threat. At the same time, he realised he didn't want it to end this way – with angry words and shouting. Better to have died in the alley, like Spike said – much better.

"Wait!" he shouted, as loud as he could. "Maybe that's what they want?"

There was a pause, and then Spike's face was back.

"I'm listening."

"Maybe that's what Wolfram & Hart hope we'll do? Give up and smash the mirror? You gonna let them get away with that, Spike?"

Spike's dark brows drew down. "'Course not. You?"

Angel shook his head. "No."

He stared at Spike and Spike stared back at him.

"I'll think of something, William. I swear."

Spike's face was solemn. "You do that." Then he scowled. "And don't call me William – arsehole."

TBC (I hope)

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From:

sueworld2003.livejournal.com

So this is the Mirror fic you spoke of. *g* Wonderful start. I do hope time and health allowing you'll get to finish it.

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The Calendar Post: Mirror, Mirror

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