"Equinox"

“Equinox”
AtS Future Fic
Spike/Angel (Of Course!)
Humor/Hint o’ Smut
Strong R
Notes: Huge thanks to makd for the inspiration (although the weasel part didn't make the cut), and Happy Spring, everybody!



***

“Come on,” Angel said coaxingly. “You’ve been fighting this for months now. It’s time.”

Spike burrowed further underneath the covers and peeked out at him, scowling. “No. No bloody way.”

“You’ll like it, I promise.”

“I won’t like it! I don’t like one bit of this!”

“You’ve just had a bad winter. Come on, you’ve been stuck in bed for weeks, you’re starting to stink.”

Spike glared. “Not my fault! I told you I didn’t like this!”

“We all have our crosses to bear,” Angel said with a melodramatic sigh and a smirk.

“Fuckin’ funny, Angel,” Spike said, rolling his eyes before pulling the covers over his head.

“Yeah, it was kinda,” Angel said somewhat proudly. “Come on, Spike. I’ll let you listen to the Ramones the entire way.”

“Let me? Bastard,” Spike mumbled.

“Fine, then, you’re in charge of the stereo. Now, come on!” He pulled back the covers and Spike howled in rage as he was dragged from the bed and shoved into the shower.

***

“Where in the hell are we goin’?” Spike mumbled, slouched in the passenger seat, arms crossed and pouting.

“WHAT?” Angel bellowed over Rock ‘n’ Roll High School.

“I SAID, WHERE THE FUCK ARE WE GOIN’?”

“SOMEPLACE SPECIAL.”

“WHAT’S SO BLOODY SPECIAL ABOUT IT?”

“IT’S PRETTY.”

“PRETTY? PRETTY? YOU DRAGGED ME OUT OF MY DEATHBED TO GO SOMEPLACE PRETTY?”

“YES! IF WE’RE GOING TO ATTEMPT A CONVERSATION WHY DON’T YOU TURN THAT DOWN A LITTLE?”

Spike scowled and turned it up even louder and Angel sighed.

***

“See?” Angel said, turning off the car and pointing. “Pretty.”

Spike stared out at a meadow just starting to flush out with a hint of green, early blooming bulbs offering up dashes of color here and there, white, yellow, lavender, some shockingly red tulips someone had planted in a far corner of the field, and all of it washed with gold from the early morning sun. The trees, some of them ancient and others still young and all of them vital, danced in the March winds, the dogwoods and the redbuds and certain types of magnolia blooming furiously, other trees with that first brush of faint gold green of early spring, others, late comers, their branches still naked but moving with an almost joyful sway in the breeze.

“Yeah,” Spike said quietly and grudgingly. “It’s pretty.”

Then he sneezed and cursed.

Angel grinned and handed him some tissues. “Are you ready?”

“No! No, I don’t do sunlight, you bloody well know that, I burn easily, don’t you dare make me ARRRGH, NOOOOOOOOOOOYOUSTUPIDBASTARDSONOFABITCH!”

Too late. Angel had leapt out of the car, slid over the hood, and dragged Spike kicking and screaming out into the sun.

***

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Spike hunched against the breeze and squinted up at the sun, and then sneezed five times in a row. “BLOODY FUCKIN’ HELL!” he bellowed, and swiped the tissues and the allergy medicine out of Angel’s hand, pointedly ignoring Angel’s smirk, and stomped off to sit in the middle of the field, scowling. Angel followed more slowly, a few important items in hand.

***

“Is it working? The medicine?”

“Well, I haven’t fuckin’ sneezed for the last five minutes, so yes, it’s a great, sodding success.”

“You’ve gotten awfully whiny lately.”

“Well, why am I the one that ends up with the flu and pneumonia and the bloody allergies, eh? I didn’t want this, this was your gig, not mine,” Spike grumbled, pushing up his glasses. “And here’s another thing, these things. I can’t fuckin’ see, Angel, and I look like a complete prat.”

“It’s your reward. Besides, I think the glasses are sexy,” Angel said, winking.

“Some reward, and you damn well better. What’ve you got there?” Spike asked, nodding at the picnic basket.

Angel reached in and handed him a bottle of whiskey. “Oh, thank the bloody gods,” Spike muttered gratefully and took a long swig,

“Easy, you can’t do that like you used to,” Angel said.

“Don’t remind me,” Spike said, taking another drink. “What else you got?”

Angel reached in with both hands and pulled out dozens of Cadbury Eggs.

“Oh, great. Cheap chocolate oozing yellow and white pus.”

“Shut up, I know you love them, quit pretending to be such a snob.”

Spike sighed and took one in his hand and started unwrapping the foil. “Eggs. Pagan symbol for fertility.”

“What about the church?”

“The church subsumed most pagan rites into their own, for the church the eggs symbolize Christ’s resurrection, new life.”

“I just love the new, smarter, bookish you. Sexy, like I said.”

“Nothin’ bookish about that, everybody knows all that, but go on. I MEAN IT, GO ON!” Spike shouted and Angel grinned and Spike sighed and leaned back on his elbows.

“You know, when you get all indignant like that and throw your arms all over the place you kind of remind me of Calvin from ‘Calvin & Hobbes,’ you know, when he’s ranting?”

“Always liked that kid. Anyway, I’ve always been smart; just played dumb ‘cause it was easier.”

Angel snorted and nibbled at his chocolate. “So why, every Easter, does the President make all those kids roll eggs across the lawn with sticks?”

“Well, that’s fascism, that is, but it symbolizes the . . . vitality of fertility and . . . makin’ Jesus dizzy?”

Angel stared at him for a long time before falling flat on his back, laughing his ass off, and Spike watched him for a while before joining in, and they both laughed long and hard, for the first time in a long time, before finally wheezing to a stop and slugging more whiskey.

“Oh, hell,” Angel said, sighing. “So what about . . .” he looked around him and lowered his voice to a whisper. “ . . . what about bunnies?”

Spike stiffened and looked at him with widened eyes. “You shouldn’t even say that word, Angel!” he hissed. Then he relaxed. “Fertility, again,” he said in a normal tone of voice. “You know that demon girl, Anya, the one that Harris was going to marry?”

“You mean the one you fu-"

“Now, stop it, what’s in the past is in the past. Anyway, she knew about the . . . B- word.”

“You’d think everyone would. Monty Python knew,” Angel said sagely, nodding, now slightly tipsy from the whiskey and the laughing and the sun, and he rolled his eyes at the general idiocy of the world’s population.

“Yeah, you’d think,” Spike said in agreement, and then he froze. “Angel,” he whispered, eyes wide with terror. “Don’t move!”

Angel stilled, whiskey bottle halfway to his mouth. “What?” he whispered back, eyes darting around.

“Over there,” Spike said, jerking his head, and Angel looked to see four cottontail rabbits about five yards away, twitching their noses and looking at them curiously.

“Oh, fuck!” Angel hissed, scrabbling backwards, only to be stopped when Spike leapt on to his back for protection.

“I told you not to say that word! Do something!” Spike yelled and Angel struggled to his feet while Spike clung to him tightly.

“Do WHAT?” Angel shouted, stumbling under Spike’s weight.

“I don’t know, stomp on ‘em with those abnormally large feet of yours!”

“I can’t stomp on the bunnies! I’ll have the world’s entire bunny population after me! Get off me!” Angel hissed, and shrugged a struggling Spike off his back. “I have an idea,” he said, his eyes cold and calculating.

And those that had known them, and those that still did, would have laughed until they died to see two terrified former vampires fending off bunnies by using Cadbury Eggs as ammunition.

***

“Those bunnies were rollin’ their eyes at us! I didn’t even know they could roll their eyes!” Spike said, settling back down on the blanket now that the danger had passed and taking another long swig of whiskey and then handing the bottle to Angel.

“That big one flipped me off,” Angel muttered, taking a long drink as well.

“Didn’t know they could do that, either,” Spike said, and then fell flat on his back. “Hate to admit it, but you were right. This is nice.”

Angel fell back as well. “Yep,” he said, closing his eyes and fumbling for Spike’s hand. Spike gripped his hand tightly and they lay there for a while in silence, taking in the sun, and the sound of the wind and smell of dark, wet earth and the faint scent of flowers on the breeze.

“Angel,” Spike murmured.

“Mmm?”

“I’m burnin’.”

“No, you’re not, it’s all in your head, psychological.”

“No, Angel, really, I’m burnin’,” Spike said, sitting up.

Angel opened his eyes and took in the pink tint now coloring Spike’s forearm. “Oops.”

“Yeah, oops. Can’t do this too much, I’ll start to look old, like you.”

Angel punched him and Spike punched him back and they both said “OW!” and Angel sighed. “We’ve got to get out of the habit of doing that. Let’s move under the shade.”

They hauled the blanket, the whiskey, the picnic basket and their now severely depleted supply of Cadbury Eggs under the swaying canopy of nearby trees, and Spike again lay back down, sighing contentedly. Angel looked at his watch.

“You in a hurry or somethin’?” Spike asked.

Angel grinned. “Kind of.”

“What?” Spike said, frowning.

“I’m waiting for the exact moment of the vernal equinox.”

“What’s gonna happen then? The world gonna end?”

“No,” Angel murmured, climbing on top of Spike and planting a hand on either side of his head, propping himself up. “Then, we’re going to celebrate.”

Spike smiled lazily and slid his arms around Angel’s neck. “That right? How will we be celebratin’, exactly?”

Angel leaned down and kissed him deeply and for a long time before pulling away slightly. “I’m gonna go all pagan on your ass,” he whispered against Spike’s lips.

“That a promise?” Spike said, grinning.

“Oh, yeah,” Angel said, burying his face in Spike’s neck and nuzzling at his ear while nudging up between his thighs.

“Oh, God,” Spike sighed. “How much time we got?”

“Five minutes,” Angel whispered as he licked at Spike’s neck.

“Any reason we can’t start celebratin’ a little early?” Spike murmured, reaching down to stroke Angel through his jeans.

Angel groaned. “Don’t see why not.”

***

The bunnies watched for a while, then looked at one another, twitched their noses and rolled their eyes, and hopped away in disgust.

***

End