The Clarity of Hatred

Author's Note: I used the narration from Passion, because - deep as it is and I really adore that speech - it always kinda bugged me. What the hell was Angelus doing when he was saying that…? So I came up with this.

"Passion. It lies in all of us. Sleeping. Waiting. And though unwanted, unbidden, it will stir. Open it's jaws and howl. It speaks to us, guides us. Passion rules us all. And we obey. What other choice do we have? Passion is the source of our finest moments. The joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief. It hurts sometimes more than we can bear. If we could live without passion, maybe we'd know some kind of peace. But we would be hollow. Empty rooms, shuttered and dank. Without passion, we'd be truly dead."

Spike had wheeled slowly and silently into the room at the beginning of Angelus's speech. Angelus was standing by a large, filthy window, leaning against the wall in a pair of leather pants and a burgundy silk shirt, gazing moodily into the distance. Spike figured Angelus thought he painted a pretty picture, all romantic poet, silver-tongued and bloody-fingered.

It was almost enough to make Spike sick as he rolled his eyes and clapped slowly and sarcastically.

"Never pegged you as a poet, Angelus," he said as Angelus turned, his scowl trying to hide his embarrassment. "Pure poetry, that was. Quick, better write that down. Don't want to forget something that beautiful."

Angelus's lip curled and he sauntered toward Spike who glared up at him, his hands hanging limply over the arms of his wheelchair. With a sudden flash of speed, Angelus slammed his hand into Spike's wheelchair, right between Spike's legs.

"I thought you were the poet, William," he smirked. "At least, that's what Dru used to think."

He chortled as he straightened and Spike wanted - for probably the thousandth time - to slam his fist into Angelus's face.

"And the woman?" Spike asked, not turning to look at Angelus as he strode to the doorway.

"Already taken care of," Angelus paused. "Hey, Spike, why don't you come? Oh, those stairs. Bit difficult for your current…" he raked his eyes deliberately over Spike sitting in the wheelchair, "situation."

Spike took a long steadying breath as he heard Angelus whistling jovially as he left the building.

As soon as he got out of this wheelchair, he was really, really going to get back at Angelus.

Spike heard the faint heartbeat from where he sat in one of the back rooms of the warehouse with a cigarette in one hand and a book in the other.

He frowned, dropped the book and wheeled into the hallway in time to seeing Drusilla hopping and clapping in delight. His eyes lingered over Drusilla waif-like form before sinking down to take in the object of her joy.

Bloody hell.

Under one arm, Angelus carried a woman. Dark haired, dressed in green, quite beautiful really.

"You brought the woman back," Spike stated.

"The injury didn't affect your eyes then," Angelus sneered.

"She's also not dead," there was a bite of incredulity in his voice.

"You don't say," Angelus answered.

"And she's probably being tracked by the bloody Slayer now!" Spike's voice rose as he spoke. "Dust bunnies all round then! So you needn't worry about your soul, Blossom, you'll be too dusty for that. But I for one won't be around to roll in the dirt with you."

He turned sharply, if awkwardly in his wheelchair. But Angelus was faster; he moved in front of Spike and dropped the body of the woman into his lap.

"Tie her up, would you?" Angelus asked. "I'll be going out with Dru for a hunt. I'll kill her when I get back."

"Why didn't you kill her at the school?" Spike demanded, ignoring the body in his lap.

"And miss out on Ripper's face when he watches me kill her?" Angelus asked, taking Dru's hand and leading her out of the mansion, leaving Spike to take care of the bloody hostage.

He wheeled slowly into the back room he had been in before and pushed the body into an empty chair, grabbing a bit of rope from the bookcase where Angelus had left it after his… games with Drusilla that afternoon. He wheeled back to the woman, pushed her upright and bound her hands behind the chair and her feet to the legs. He stared at her for a moment, before crooking his finger under her chin and lifting her head up to study her face.

So this is who had the Watcher all hot and bothered - according to Angelus anyway. Spike could see why. He ran his thumb over the large bruise on her forehead, left by Angelus knocking her out. She groaned a little and Spike pulled his hand away and smirked as her eyes fluttered open.

"Wha…?"

"Hello there, pet," Spike said.

Her eyes widened in horror as she registered that her hands and feet were bound.

"Angelus," she gasped.

"Is out," Spike answered, lighting up a cigarette. "He'll be back around dawn. I should think people'll figure you're missing around the time school starts. I daresay the love-struck Watcher will raise the alarm. Though whether or not the Slayer will show to save you, I can't say, heard she's got a bit of a grudge, y'know?" Spike took a long drag from his cigarette. "I'm Spike. You'd be…?"

"Why are you talking to me?" she groaned, her head aching.

"Well, as everyone is out, I thought you'd be better company than the mice. Also, might take your mind off what's going to happen when Angelus and Dru get back."

"What do you mean?" she asked, peering at him through narrowed eyes.

"What did you say your name was?" he asked, tilting his head the side, ignoring her question.

"Jenny Calendar," she answered. "What do mean? Why hasn't he killed me?"

"Dating a Watcher and you don't know the stories about Angelus?" Spike affected a shocked face. "My, my, what a disappointment. He will kill you, love, he'll just take his time. Angelus likes to play and while there's a chance that the Watcher'll come for you, Angelus's not going to kill you."

"What do you mean?"

"God, I hope you're only being this stupid because of that bump on your head," Spike rolled his eyes. "The Watcher watches, but does he see?"

"You mean… He'll kill me and make Rupert watch," Spike heard the horror in her voice and he almost smiled. Humans. So weak, you'd think they weren't aware they'd die one day. Whether in bed surrounded by fat grandchildren or at the hands of the so-called Scourge of Europe. Spike couldn't see that it made any difference, you ended up six feet under either way.

"'Bout the long and the short of it," Spike replied shortly, gritting his teeth, watching the blue smoke curl toward the ceiling.

Jenny noted the bite of annoyance in his voice and frowned at him.

"What?" he asked, irritated at her steady perusal of him.

"You don't want him to do that," she stated. She was hardly aware that she was engaging in conversation with an evil killer. She wanted to know what was going to happen. To her. To Rupert.

Oh God, Rupert…

"I don't much care," Spike shrugged. "Just your presence here means the Slayer will be big with the killing and in case you hadn't noticed…" he gestured to the wheelchair with a frustrated wave of his hand. "I can't really stand up to her, excuse the pun."

"How…?" she seemed to suddenly notice his predicament and wondered how something like that could happen to a fast healing vampire. "Slayer," he answered shortly. "Someone drops an organ on you, well, you don't just walk away."

He wasn't looking at her, his jaw tight and his put out his cigarette by slamming it into the wall hard enough to make her jump.

"Do you like him?" she asked suddenly, hoping to calm him by drawing him out of his thoughts so he would be less inclined to think about what to do to her.

"What?" he gave her an incredulous look.

"Well, you said you wanted to talk!" she protested. "I'm just trying to make conversation."

He eyed her suspiciously before shrugging.

"No."

"Why not?"

"Bloody hell, he's a bastard, or hadn't you noticed? Walks in here like he owns the place, thinks just because I'm like this he can -" Spike stopped, shot her a look and ground his teeth.

"What?" Jenny prompted. "Take Dru?"

Spike's hand flew toward before she even realised he was annoyed. He gripped her throat and applied slight pressure.

"Shut up," he hissed. "You don't know anything about her. He's her Sire, right? Gives him authority over her, it's not her fault."

"If you say so," Jenny choked out.

He pulled his hand back and sat studying it for a moment.

"Don't piss me off," he said suddenly, fixing her with a brilliant blue gaze. "I have enough of that from him and this bleedin' thing," he slammed his fist into the arm of the wheelchair. "I don't need anymore of it."

"Sorry."

He snorted, picking at his already chipped black nail varnish.

"D'you love him?" he asked after a silence.

"Who? Rupert?"

"The Watcher, yeah."

"I… Yes. I do," Jenny lowered her gaze.

"Does he know?" Spike asked, though he really couldn't care less, but he was willing to talk about anything to take his mind off Angelus and Dru.

"I told him today."

"And?"

"And what?"

"Did he say it back?" Spike sighed; he hated having to spell things out for people.

"He… No. But he smiled."

Spike chuckled.

"I should think so, he's not exactly a heartbreaker, not the type girls fall in love with all the time."

"How would you know?" seeming to forget it was a killer talking to her, Jenny blazed with sudden anger and Spike blinked in surprise before smiling.

"You really have fallen for the old git, haven't you?"

"That's none of your business," she snapped, before recoiling at his glare.

He opened his mouth to retort, but seemed to think better of it and sank back into his wheelchair, fingers drumming on the arm as Jenny shifted subtly, trying to free herself of her bonds.

"I wouldn't bother," he told her. "They're tied tight. Can't have you running off back to your friends, you might restore Angelus's soul and we can't be having that."

There was sarcasm in his voice and she wondered why. Then it hit her.

"You wouldn't care if he got his soul back, would you?" she said in a low voice.

"What gives you that impression?" Spike asked, not seeming to care that she had discovered his secret.

"Well, he's…"

"Yeah?"

"He's stolen your girlfriend, hasn't he?" she was being bolder than was wise, but if she was going to die, she damn well wasn't going to die quietly.

"So what if I want the arsehole to piss of back to soul-land?" Spike asked. "There's no way I could do it -"

Jenny didn't like the way he was looking at her, that hopeful, almost gleeful gleam in his eyes. She was terrified at what that could mean. She gulped hard and tried to lean back and away from him.

"Here now," he said, grabbing the front of her blouse and pulling her forward. "I'm not going to hurt you. In fact, I'm going to do you a favour."

"W-what favour?" her voice trembled and she would have been annoyed at that if she wasn't so scared.

"I'm going to help you out," Spike let her go and his eyes took on a faraway look as his voice dropped to a mumble. "Yeah… He gets his soul back… I get Dru… We leave…. No more bloody Slayer..." he raised his voice a little. "I do believe I've just had a soddin' wonderful idea."

"What's that?" she asked.

"Let me spell it out for you, Miss Calendar," Spike leaned forward. "Angelus never gets home before dawn and he won't change that for you, there's a few hours between dawn and school starting in which he can do whatever he wants. But say I let you go before they get back, they can't chase you, sun's coming up. You go to the Watcher's and you do the mojo on Angelus."

"I wouldn't get away," she stated. "He'd catch me."

"Not if I let you go as they came in," Spike told her.

"No," Jenny turned her head away from him, her eyes shining.

This wasn't fair. She had been trying to help Angel and instead she was going to die a long, slow, painful death. And having this vampire engage her in a halfway civil conversation before offering her freedom just wasn't fair. She knew this was a trick. It had to be. This was William the Bloody, not the type of vampire who just helped people out.

"Look," Spike grabbed her chin, dragging her face toward him. "I let you go and for that the Slayer lets me and Dru leave town unharmed. She gets the poof back and you get your Watcher. Where's the bad here?"

"It's a trick," she said, a slight waver to her voice. "I know it is. You wouldn't just let me go. I don't trust you."

He stared at her, a hard, unblinking look that made her shudder. Then he shrugged and lit another cigarette.

"Suit yourself."

"I'm not like them, y'know."

Jenny froze at the sound of his voice and lifted her head to look at him. She had been struggling for the past hour and hadn't even loosened the ropes. He hadn't spoken to her since she rejected his offer and now she looked up to see his back to her.

"What?" she asked.

He shot her a glance over his shoulder.

"I said I'm not like them," he turned his wheelchair. "Angelus has never loved anything. He doesn't care enough about anything to give up everything for it. Not even Darla."

"Who?"

"His Sire. He never loved her really. Though I do think he was the great love of her life. Unrequited love is quite the bitch."

"What do you mean you're not like them?" Jenny prompted, wary of the fierce and faraway look that had come into his eyes.

"I mean…" he tailed off as he refocused on her. "I love Dru. I'd do anything for her. Brought her here to make sure she got better. That's why I want Angelus to get his soul back. He carries on like this, the Slayer will kill him and she'll kill Dru too," he sniffed and fixed his eyes on some point over Jenny's shoulder. "Can't be having that."

"Where is this going?" her voice was weary and Spike almost felt sorry for her.

He had seen Angelus in his element and he didn't envy what would happen to her. But that really had nothing to do with anything. As far as he was concerned, she was merely a way to pass the time until Drusilla returned. The fact she might be a solution to his problem was merely an added bonus. If he had liked Angelus even the tiniest bit, he wouldn't even be considering this. As it was, he hated Angelus with everything he had in him, so he didn't much care about what happened to him.

"I was making a point, pet," Spike told her. "The point being that I want Drusilla back and I want out of this town. But with Angelus around, that's not going to happen. You happen to be my only hope."

"Why would you want to help me out though?" Jenny was still confuse. "Wouldn't Angelus make you pay for that?"

Spike grinned.

"That he would," he nodded, chuckling. "But wounds heal and memories fade. And for Dru, it would be worth it," he looked out of the smashed open window again. "You've not got long. Sun's coming up."

Jenny stared out at the start of sunrise. The sky was gradually fading from black to purple like a fading bruise and she felt panic rise like bile in her throat. Angelus would be back at dawn and… Oh God. Her breath quickened in fear. If Angelus was hoping to kill her in front of Rupert, that would mean he would kill him too. She could barely stand to imagine it.

Her mother told her that deals with the devil never worked. There was always a sting in the tail. A loophole, something that could be used against you in the future. She turned to eyes to look at this particular devil.

She was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea and he knew it.

He also knew - but didn't particularly like - that compared to Angelus, his human weaknesses made him the lesser of two evils. He anticipated her words even before she turned shining, tired brown eyes on him.

"I'll do it," she tugged on the ropes. "Let me go."

He grinned and wheeled forward, long fingers deftly untying her. She rubbed her sore wrists and made to stand. He pressed at hand into her stomach to pin her to the chair.

"When I say, go out the window and run," he glared at her. "And don't stop running until you get to the Watcher's. Get Angelus's soul back and make sure me and Dru get out of here all right."

She nodded and sat still in her chair as he strained towards the door.

She heard the high pitched whoop and the clattering of heels on the concrete floor. Spike lifted his hand and jerked his chin in the direction of the smashed window.

Jenny threw herself at it. But she turned before slipping out.

"Thank you," she said sincerely.

"It's not for you," he hissed. "Remember our deal. Now bugger off!"

She climbed out of the mangled window, slicing her arm on broken glass as she did so and raced toward the sunrise. She didn't slow her pace until she felt the sunbeams warm her face and hair and she wanted to sink to the ground and sob in relief. But Rupert's face swam before her mind's eyes and she continued to run, gripping her arm to stem the blood flow until she reached his door.

He was rumpled and sleepy when he answered her insistent knock. She didn't have any idea of what he was saying; only that it was concerned and loving. All she knew was his arms was soft and warm and comforting and God she loved him. She buried her face into his chest and sobbed, as he pulled her inside and tended to her wounds.

The only words she registered were, "I love you…"

It was Drusilla who discovered Spike languishing in his wheelchair, book in hand, opposite the empty chair.

"Where is the toy?" she demanded of Spike.

He didn't answer for a moment, then he turned the page of his book and looked up at her.

"Dru, love," he greeted. "Have a nice time?"

She opened her mouth to answer, but her Sire's hands slid around her waist and his lips nibbled her neck. For a moment, Spike felt the familiar jealous sickness, before he glanced at the empty chair. He allowed himself a smirk. Whatever Angelus might do to him, by God it would be worth it.

Angelus's attention to Drusilla waned as he turned to see his hostage. He eyes met an empty chair and he turned to look at Spike who was smiling good naturedly at him.

"Where is she?" he asked, a chill, menacing voice, a warning of dire punishment.

"Is she not with you?" Spike replied.

"Where is she, boy?" Angelus cried, darting forward and hauling Spike out of his wheelchair, fisting one hand into Spike's shirt.

"The book was excellent," Spike said. "She must have slipped out while I had my attention elsewhere. You really should have killed her at the school, shouldn't you, Angelus?"

With a roar of rage, Angelus hurled Spike into a wall, delivering a kick to his already damaged spine. It hurt like hell and Spike hated him for it, for that and for every other damned thing Angelus had said or done the past few weeks.

But Spike was also aware that whatever Angelus did now to re-assert his control, the fact was that he had lost it.

Spike had taken that control.

And Angelus was going to pay dearly for it. It was going to cost him his soul and he knew it.

As Angelus's fingers twisted into Spike's hair to drag him to the centre of the room, his earlier words echoed in Spike's ears.

"… The joy of love, the clarity of hatred and the ecstasy of grief…"

Ah, yes indeed, Angelus. The clarity of hatred was a fine thing indeed.

The End.