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“This was not what I expected him to sing,” Lorne said and Angel managed to tear his eyes away from Spike long enough to meet the analysing look of his friend. When Lorne had requested that Spike sing, saying that he had the feeling there was something on his mind, Spike had nodded and disappeared in the direction of the stage. It was relatively normal for Lorne to make such a request – they were very careful about things like possession nowadays, more than happy to let the empath read them as and when needed.
“Spike always did like surprising people,” he finally said before turning back to give Spike his full attention. He thought he’d heard the song somewhere before, but he was pretty sure it had been a woman singing the main lyrics. She had made them sound soulful but Spike – it felt like Spike was reaching into Angel’s soul and dragging all of his pain and fears out into the open. It was gut-wrenching and terrifying but Angel couldn’t look away.
“I was expecting some classic punk, perhaps – the Clash or the Sex Pistols,” Lorne continued. “Pink and Chris Stapleton – I didn’t think they would be part of his repertoire.”
“Is that who this is by?” Angel asked, resting his chin in his hands.
“Yep – it’s called Love Me Anyway, which is kinda appropriate since he appears to be singing to just one person in here.” Lorne gave him what was obviously meant to be a speaking gaze but Angel couldn’t figure out what he was referring to.
“Huh?”
“Oh Angelcakes, are you really that blind? That there vamp loves you more than I love cocktails and that is saying something!” Stunned, Angel finally dragged his gaze away from Spike.
“What? Don’t be – you’re wrong.” He shook off the jolt to his emotions that Lorne’s word caused, refusing to allow hope to take root.
“I’m never wrong, my little choux bun, you know that!”
“I’ve told you to stop calling me pastries,” Angel replied. “And you’re wrong about how Spike feels about me – he’s still in love with Buffy. What’s going on between us is – well, it’s complicated.”
“It’s not all that complicated, love-muffin. You don’t need to be an empath to hear what our bleached friend is saying.” Shaking his head in disagreement, Angel turned back towards the stage. He rarely got to hear Spike sing – sometimes in the shower maybe, but then he was generally belting out punk songs that Angel only vaguely recognised. This song – the heartbreaking lyrics – made him think that he would be looking it up as soon as they got home.
Lorne had to be reading Spike wrong – there was no other explanation. They had fallen into a relationship because they were the only two vampires in the world who could understand what the other was going through – nothing more, nothing less. Spike couldn’t love him – could he? He met Spike’s eyes and realised the hope he felt inside was mirrored there.