Please Don't Make Me Go

by Saber ShadowKitten
My Childe 23








My Sire is sending me away.

At first, I hadn't understood what the poof had meant when he'd said he was sending me to Sunnydale with Buffy. It had been a bit of information that was as common as someone commenting on the weather. "Oh, how is it outside?" "Cold, wet, rainy. By the by, I'm shipping you off to Sunnydale." "Really? How nice."

Four seconds later, what he'd said had sunk in.

My Sire was sending me away.

My Sire is sending me away.

I'd had to close my eyes so as not to let the tears that had immediately sprung to my eyes fall down my face. My first thought had been why?

My second -- Angel doesn't want me here anymore. And I know why. He's sick and tired of me acting like a bloody baby. He despises having to take care of the wimpy man who can't even take a shower alone without shaking from fear. He hates the fact that I've disrupted his life and turned him into a friggin' babysitter out of guilt and pity for me.

So here I am in the bedroom packing up my few clothes. My jaw is clenched tight as I try to hold back the tears that are still threatening to spill from my eyes. Again.

I'm so tired of all this shit. I'm tired of hurting, tired of crying, tired of the nightmares, tired of being afraid, just plain tired. I'm so bloody tired, all I want is eternal sleep. And to do that, someone would have to stake me.

I wish someone would.

I hate this. I hate this feeling that I have inside of me that won't go away. It's like a lump where my heart is that comes with a piercing pain that continually rips through my control, sending me into a fits of histrionics that would put even the most emotional of sods to shame. I'm a pitiful shell of a once powerful vampire who's own guilt-plagued, soulful father doesn't even want around any more.

I don't even think there's a word to describe someone like me. If someone would only stake me, that would change. At least then I'd be known as "dust."

"Do you need some help?"

"No," I answer Angel tersely as the ponce comes into the room. 'I'm hanging on by a thread here, mate, so bugger off,' I want to tell him. I don't, though. I just press my lips firmly together and concentrate on shoving my clothes into a bag.

He silently watches me for a moment, then goes into the bathroom, only to return a few seconds later with my toothbrush and comb. With jerky movements, I take them from him and add it to the things in my bag.

"Spike-" he begins.

"Don't," I interrupt him. I don't want to hear his fake platitudes or sentiments on how he doesn't really want me to go, or how he's sending me to Sunnydale for my own good, or how much he thinks I've healed. It's all bullshit anyway. Actions speak a lot fucking louder than words, and what can be more clear that he doesn't want me around anymore than by sending me away?

The pain in my chest intensifies and I bite my inner cheek to keep from screaming out at the unfairness of everything. I didn't do this to myself. I didn't choose to be tortured or mind-raped or to become a demon who's afraid of his own bloody shadow. I didn't mean to become a soddin' nancyboy. I didn't mean to be a burden. I didn't mean to shame you. I didn't mean to become a disappointment to you, Sire. I'm sorry I'm a disgrace. I know I'm an embarrassment, and you're humiliated by me, but please don't send me away. I'll be quiet. You won't even know I'm here. And I'll get better. I promise. I'll be strong again and I won't embarrass you anymore. Just please don't make me go.

"Do you have everything?" Angel asks.

"Yeah," I reply roughly, swallowing back the words to express what I'd been thinking. I grab the bag off the bed and hurry out of the bedroom, heading right for the stairs. If I don't leave right now, I'm going to be on the floor with my arms wrapped around his ankles, begging him not to make me go. I'm so pathetic it's not even funny.

There's a motor parked out front and I assume it's Buffy's. The humiliation building inside of me at my despicable thoughts and behavior intensifies because I have to stand here like a ninny and wait for the Slayer to unlock the doors. I should just fucking run. I should turn and run and keep running until the sun comes up and burns me to ashes, wiping my sorry arse off the face of the planet and thus ridding my Sire of the embarrassment of having me for a Childe.

But before I can take a step, Angel appears. He must've run himself to be out here this quickly. And he doesn't stop in front of me when he gets to the bottom of the steps. Instead, he pulls me into this bone-crushing embrace, and he kisses my temple, then my cheek, then drops his head and kisses the side of my neck in the exact place he used to bite me.

"You listen to me, William," he says in a low, harsh voice near my ear. "The only reason I'm sending you with the Slayer is because he can't protect you and hunt those fucking assholes at the same time, and that's the only reason. Do not even think that I don't want you around. You are my Childe, and you are one of the two most important people in this world to Angel."

What? Why is Angel speaking about himself in third person? Why did he swear again? And why did he call Buffy 'the Slayer?'

He releases me slightly so he can look at me, and I see something in his eyes that I hadn't seen in a few years. Or rather, I don't see something in his eyes. "Angelus?" I say with a slight tremor in my voice.

He nods and gives me a smirk that is purely that of the vampire who'd turned me over a century ago. "As much as I'd love to stay and beat your fear out of you, the soulful one is only giving me a short time to say what I want to say. I really can't stand sharing this body with the brooding wuss. Too bad his soul is so damn pure and powerful, or else I'd just kick it back out of this body."

He stiffens abruptly and his arms fall from around me. Something flickers in his eyes, and I realize that what he'd said was causing his soul to return to control. I know I have to say something before the demon that sired me is locked away again. "I'm sorry, Angelus," I whisper. "I'm sorry I let Angel-"

"No," he interrupts me. "As much as I hate sharing you with this fucking soul, Angel loves you like he'd love a son if he could knock-up a bitch. As long as it stays like that and he takes damn good care of you, I'm okay with it. But if he even thinks about loving you in any other way, he's going to have a serious battle with me. You're mine, not his."

He then grabs the back of my head and presses a hard kiss right on my mouth, then he pulls me back into a tight hug. When he releases me, I see his soul reflected in his eyes again. I'm not sure if I'm disappointed or not.

"I don't want you to go, either, Spike," Angel says, reaching a hand up and brushing it over my cheekbone above the white bandage there. He sighs. "But I don't want you to get hurt and the safest place for you would be in Sunnydale."

"Are we ready?" I look past Angel to see Buffy standing on the lower step of the building, keys in hand.

"Will?" Angel asks softly, leaving me to make the decision if I'm ready to go or not. Well, I'm not ready and I don't want to go. What does the bloody sod think, for crissakes?

But instead of asking him not to make me go, I nod and say, "I'm ready."

Buffy comes by us and goes around the motor to get in the driver's side. She didn't even look at Angel when she passed, not saying goodbye. If I were myself, I'd be laughing at her pain. But I'm not even near to what I once was, and I know exactly how she feels. I don't want to leave my caring, loving wanker of a Sire, either. But it's not like I'm going to tell him that...

"Well, bye, mate," I tell him instead. "Can't say that I've enjoyed myself or am going to miss you."

Angel gives me a small smile that is purely that of the vampire who took me in without question and tried to help me heal. "Behave yourself and listen to Rupert, okay?" he says.

"Yes, daddy."

He chuckles, pulls me into a quick hug, then takes a step back. "Call me when you get there."

"Right," I say. I give him a tight smile, turn and open the passenger side of the motor.

"Oh wait, here." Angel stops me and hands me my glasses case. "Don't want to forget those."

"Yeah, I want to make sure I look like a soddin' nerd around the Slayer and her chums," I say sarcastically.

He cuffs me lightly on the side of my head. "You have a brain in there that's equal to that of any of the brilliant thinkers. Why don't you try using it for something good for a change?"

"And help the bloody good guys like a..a...a...you?" I scoff. "Not a chance."

"Think about it," Angel says simply.

"Right." I roll my eyes and get into Buffy's motor. I give my toff of a Sire a final glance and close the door.

Buffy starts the engine and puts the motor in gear. I force myself not to turn my head, even though I can feel him still standing out there. Panic engulfs me as she pulls away and heads up the street. I don't want to go. Please...

She reaches over and covers my hand with hers. "It's okay to look back, as long as you know that the person is waiting for you to do so," she says quietly.

I grind my teeth and blink back the tears blurring my eyes. I face front stiffly. I'm not going to look back.

Oh, who the bloody fuck am I kidding?

I turn in my seat and look out the rear window. My Sire is still standing there on the sidewalk, watching after us. As if he knows I turned around, he raises his hand in a silent goodbye.

"Goodbye, Sire," I whisper in quiet response. "Thank you."

Then Buffy turns the corner and Angel is taken from my sight.





End