29th January 2003
“Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless.” That really was one of the cheesiest lines Wesley had ever had to use when answering a telephone, but it was the single thing Angel fought tooth and nail to retain, saying it reminded him of Doyle. When Cordelia had concurred with a wistful smile the Watcher had relented and reluctantly agreed that it could stay. That, of course, had been during his brief tenure as boss of this motley crew before he was relegated to making coffee and answering the phone, the standard punishment for those who had stepped out of line. It should be Cordy’s turn as boss now he guessed but currently no one was in charge, they seemed to have reached a democratic impasse where everyone made the decisions and no one took ultimate responsibility. Surprisingly it worked.
“Yes, sir, we are still taking on new cases and personal protection is certainly not a problem… If you would like to come into the office I’m sure we can agree a suitable level of remuneration… Thank you, yes. Now if I could just take your name Mr…? Harris. Thank you again and we’ll see you soon I hope.”
As he put down the phone Wesley looked up and caught Angel’s eye, perfectly aware that the vampire had heard every word of both sides of the conversation. The plan, which had started with Spike’s return on Sunday night, should now start to bear fruit.
“Hey, mister. Fancy taking me to lunch.” Cordelia slapping a huge file down on the desk jerked him back from his contemplation of conspiracies and plots.
Smiling up at her, Wesley countered. “And how could I deny such a request?” With a quick glance at the office, he continued. “What about Angel? I’m sure we could find somewhere…”
The smallest shake of her head silenced him on the subject, so he smoothly changed it, getting to his feet, rescuing his jacket and offering her his arm. “And where would madam like to go today?” Their conversation continued as they left the hotel in search of food and somewhere more private.
**
“How long has this been going on?”
Cordelia poked the dim sum around her plate somewhat lethargically. She hadn’t really been hungry, just desperate to get out and talk to someone who wasn’t Angel, about Angel.
“The first nightmare…daymare, whatever, was not long after we got together. His screaming woke me up. And, I know it sounds dumb but I didn’t think any more about it. I mean we all have nightmares, right? But then in the last couple of weeks they started again. Same as the first one. He wakes up yelling his head off, shaking like god knows what and won’t talk about it.”
“That’s interesting, very interesting.” Could there be a connection? The timings seemed to parallel the way Spike’s dreams had come and gone, except that the last week had been hell on wheels with his houseguest. Wesley had actually left the apartment one morning simply to escape the screams. “Would you say his depression was related to these nightmares…episodes.”
“I should say so. First the bad dreams, then the bad moods, then he goes all depresso-vamp and locks himself in our room for nearly a week. Jeez Wes, if that’s all you can come up with I might as well talk to myself.”
“I’m sorry. I just wished to ascertain all the facts before I passed an opinion. Is that everything?”
“No.” Putting down her chopsticks, Cordy rested her head in her hands, quiet despair oozing from every pore. “He wants us to have separate rooms. To sleep in that is. Says he doesn’t want to keep waking me when the dreams come but I mean that’s ridiculous. Okay, I don’t exactly enjoy waking up with a banshee in the bed but other couples have problems, right? Plus half the time we don’t even sleep the same hours.”
“And what did you say?”
“I agreed.” When she looked up, Wesley could her pleading with him to explain, to tell her it wasn’t her fault. “I’d do anything for him, Wes. All he has to do is ask. But what if I lose him, after all this time. Now we finally have a chance to be happy.”
He took her hand gently and stared down at it, tracing the small hairs on her wrist with his thumb. Whatever theories he may have were irrelevant, right now Cordelia needed a friend’s reassurance that she wasn’t losing her lover.
“You know something, Cordy. Angel has been alone for a very long time and it’s entirely possible that these dreams are nothing new. After all with a hundred and fifty years of murder and mayhem, and a hundred years in hell there must be more than enough material in his head to give him bad dreams everyday.”
Risking a glance up at her face he saw hope igniting there. “For what it’s worth, I think you are doing the right thing. He loves you but if he needs some more space then you are doing the right thing by letting him have it.”
Hope was replaced by a small brave smile. “You think so?”
“I know so.”
**
Three hours later and Xander was being ushered into the hotel office to meet the vampire he hated only slightly less than Spike. Angel hadn’t changed at all during his years away from Sunnydale, as would be expected from an eternal creature, and the vampire’s deadpan expression when he was introduced to Mr. Alex Harris almost reduced the young man to hysterical giggles.
They’d had no chance to collaborate on a story so Xander had picked one that sounded, at least to him, plausible. He was being stalked by an ex-girlfriend and needed protection. The description he gave was Anya to a tee and he even manage to slip in the suggestion that there may be more to her than met the eye, something that was met by raised eyebrows and knowing smiles by the gang.
With a coffee firmly placed in his hand, he found himself slipping easily into their company; even Angel seemed less contemptible than he had in Sunnydale, the vampire occasionally cracking a smile at one of his lamer jokes. There was no sign of Spike, which didn’t surprise the visitor. After what had gone down - and wasn’t that an unfortunate turn of phrase - between them, Xander doubted that the younger vampire would ever want to see him again, let alone meet up for a cup of coffee and a chat. When his story had been listened to and his current accommodation, a cheap hotel across town, had been given due consideration, Gunn volunteered for the first shift and offered to act as escort for the rest of the day.
Finally outside the hotel and away from the prying eyes and ears of possible surveillance equipment the two men relaxed enough to talk properly, exchanging genuine introductions and explaining how their very ordinary lives had become so extraordinary when demons and vampires had turned up on the scene. By the time they had walked three blocks they were chatting like old friends totally oblivious to anyone who may be listening in.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
30th January 2003
“This is all you have?” The tall woman flicked through a series of photographs showing a young Caucasian man talking to Gunn, the Afro-American that worked at Angel Investigations. Lilah hadn’t had much in the way of personal contact with vampire hunter but his reputation was impressive amongst the demon community, he was considered only slightly less dangerous than Angel.
“Yes, Ms. Morgan. He introduced himself as Mr. Alexander Harris but as you’ll see from the transcripts…”
“Just show me.” She grabbed the papers from the lackey and perused them thoughtfully. “Sunnydale, huh?” Her eyebrows raised as she read further down the page. “And a friend of the Slayer. Impressive. How has the kid managed to stay alive this long?” Shoving the papers and photos into a file, she levelled an intense look on the technician. “Keep watching. I want to know exactly where they are, what they do and who they meet.”
With that she turned on her heel and left the room, her fingers drumming against her thigh in annoyance as she walked. Things were getting to the point when Linwood’s involvement was becoming necessary again.
**
“Are we certain this is the best we can do?”
“The Senior Partners agree, Lilah. The project has become too hazardous, if the boy was returned to his father… Well, we all know the dangers inherent in that little scenario.”
The lawyer bit back her frustration at his words, months of work and Linwood was prepared to throw it all away just because things got a little risky. “So, sir. How do you want to proceed?”
“There’s really is only way for us to proceed, Lilah. Terminate the project.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
1st February 2003
Allowing his demon face to slip to the fore Angel scanned the night using every sense he possessed. He could hear many heartbeats in the darkness but focused his attention on three. Wesley inside the hotel suite behind him, sleeping on the couch in Xander’s room, Xander himself of course, not sleeping, in fact the human seemed very restless during the nights as if he were plagued with bad dreams. And lastly Gunn, guarding the hotel from his place in a doorway across the road, his heart rate slowing as he started dropping off then speeding up again when he jerked awake. It had been three nights since they started their surveillance and during that time none of them had managed to grab much sleep. So far there had been nothing.
He stood on the balcony faintly silhouetted by the light escaping from the window, obvious he hoped to anyone that was watching, the gumshoe vampire falling for the same trick all over again, but it was all an illusion. A faint crawling under his skin told him Spike was out there somewhere, hopefully doing his job and not getting distracted as he was wont to do on hunting trips, because this time he was the be all and end all of their plan. Hopefully Connor would be concentrating so hard on avoiding Angel that he would miss Spike’s presence completely and so the hunter would become the hunted.
There, across the street. The slightest movement in the shadows, black on black. Moving up the building now and just before it reached the halfway point Angel saw another, speedier if possible, ascending from the opposite corner. They reached the roof simultaneously and the vampire found himself watching a pitched battle between his two children. They were well matched, faster in pace than him but neither quite as powerful and both with many years of experience under their belts. Connor’s mortal weaknesses were counterbalanced by lack of human blood in Spike’s diet, and each used the techniques they had learned on the streets and in self-defence. He watched appreciatively for a few moments, theoretically this fight could last for hours, except that now he knew they were there it was Angel’s job to go and help.
He threw himself over the railing, catching and swinging off ledges and facades on the way down to slow his hazardous descent to the street. Once down he was no more than a blur, preternatural speed sending him up the sheer wall of the office block with a gait that seemed to defy gravity and logic. About to crest the parapet, Angel froze, finally assimilating the conversation that was bantering to and fro across the roof.
“I don’t believe you, demon.”
“As I live and breathe…well, okay maybe not that but honestly, it’s true.”
“He really did that for her?”
“Yeah, he loved your mum. Would have done anything for her.”
The fighting stopped and Angel peered carefully over the edge, desperate to watch but not wanting to attract unwanted attention. Connor was standing near the door to the stairwell watching warily as Spike approached him step by tentative step, stopping several arms length away so as not to scare the boy into running.
“How can he love? He’s a demon, demon.” There was a mocking note in the teen’s voice as he continued to watch the vampire cautiously.
“Holtz must have been a real buzz kill, you know, filling your head with cra…rubbish like that. Course we can love. As an ex of mine once said, we can love quite well, if not wisely. Why else would he have spent the best part of a hundred and fifty years with her.”
“She was his Sire and he yours. My father taught me that vampires always stay with their Sires.”
“Well, yes. But if that’s the only thing that kept them together how do you explain why I haven’t been with him for over a hundred years.”
Angel was starting to wonder where the hell Spike was going with this conversation.
“Because he got a soul and left you?”
“Exactly. He got a soul and we didn’t. He was a good guy and didn’t want to hang around a load of evil murdering monsters like us.”
“But he’s still Angelus.”
“You’re not listening are you? He isn’t. Angel is Angel and Angelus is Angelus, believe me, pet, they are totally different people. Having a soul changes you.”
“How?” Now Spike had got Connor’s attention. After years of being told what to believe and how to think, someone was finally offering to explain and discuss things with him. With a small burst of pride in both his offspring, Angel slipped soundlessly over the edge of the roof and crouched in the shadows.
“For starters, do you think I’d be bothering to talk to you right now if I didn’t have a soul? You’d have been dead the first time you slipped up, and don’t think I missed it. You need to brush up your moves, youngster, you’re getting sloppy.”
Connor regarded him through narrowed distrustful eyes but his body language was more relaxed, and Spike took another step forward.
“I like fighting you, you’re faster than my…than Angelus.”
With a conspiratorial grin, Spike looked away for a moment, his eyes dancing across to where Angel was hidden indicating he knew exactly where his Sire was. “Yeah, well, the old codger’s getting past it. Be drawing his pension any day now.”
There was silence for a few moments and the pair shifted around uncomfortably, obviously uncertain what to say to each other next. Eventually the teen broke the silence, sadness and loneliness filling his voice.
“They took Justine.”
Sensing that Connor wanted to talk, Spike squatted down still some distance from him but indicating his willingness to listen with a frown and slightly cocked head.
“I miss her.” Another silence. “And I miss my Father.”
“There’s a whole family waiting for you, kid. Say the word and you can be with them tonight.”
“They must hate me… You must hate me… after what I’ve done.”
“Codswallop. Killing a few people and then getting good again? Just makes you a proper part of the family.”
A small smile crossed Connor’s face and he looked challengingly at the vampire in front of him. “Does that make you my brother?”
Spike grinned back. “I’m either your brother or your nephew. Or possibly your uncle. Tell you what, let’s not get into who’s related to who and how. Believe me, it’s a lot more trouble than it’s worth.”
His words elicited a quiet laugh and Angel judged that now was a good time to show himself. He stood slowly; allowing Connor to see him and realise who it was, before crossing the roof towards him. The boy stiffened slightly at his approach but remained where he was, meeting his father’s gaze with a steady one of his own. Only his increased heart rate betrayed him and that only to creatures designed to hear it.
“It’s good to see you again, Connor.” Angel kept his distance in the same way as Spike but remained standing, needing to lend himself that added authority.
Connor eyed him up and down then addressed him defensively. “I’m not sorry for what I did. Putting you in the ocean. ”
“That’s fair. At least you’re being honest with me.” They regarded each other in wary silence before Angel added. “Are you sorry for the people you’ve killed?”
There was a look of horror around the boy’s eyes and when he spoke it was with a quaver Angel had never heard before. “They were people, not monsters like Lilah said and they… they screamed so much. The demons on Quor’toth never screamed. It was…It was…” His shoulders started to shake and Angel went to take a step forward, ready to comfort him. Spike got there first, putting his arms around Connor and pulling him into his chest.
“Angel! Get down.”
Gunn burst through the door just as a series of gunshots rang out from a nearby roof. Angel dived towards Connor and Spike his body reverberating and pain searing through him as several bullets found their mark. And the smell of blood was thick in the air as the vampires stumbled towards the exit, sheltering the vulnerable humans from the gunfire that continued to roar in their ears. Pushing Gunn and Connor ahead of them they tumbled through the door and yanked it closed.
“Jesus Christ, Gunn. Where the fuck did they come from?”
Connor’s eyes widened at his father’s outburst, and Angel cringed inwardly under his shocked look. He kept forgetting what a sheltered upbringing his son had had with Holtz, disregarding the whole living in a Hell dimension and learning to kill demons from the day he could walk element of it, of course. Smiling a tentative apology he was rewarded by a shy smile back and he felt like his heart would begin to beat at any moment. His son had smiled at him. Connor, his son, had smiled, at him, his father. Really today couldn’t get any better.
“One of them bullets catch you in the head?”
“What?” He turned toward Spike who repeated his question.
“I asked if one of the bullets hit you in the head. ‘cos from the dozy look on your face I’d say your brain just died and fell out of your ears.”
Gunn sniggered and the other two joined in, their laughter serving to relieve the tension of having been caught outside in a rain of bullets.
Angel’s eyes travelled from one to the next, completely bewildered. No one was making any sense tonight.
**
They managed to make it back to The Hyperion without further incident. The gunmen, whoever they were, not bothering to pursue once their quarry had retreated to street level. It was generally decided that Wolfram and Hart probably sent them to try and prevent exactly what had happened, Connor returning to his father’s side. Separately they were formidable warriors; together they were enough to easily tip the scales in the upcoming apocalypse.
Fred and Cordelia were waiting with bandages and coffee, and quickly set about fixing up the injured vampires. Angel stripped off down to his pants and let the women fuss over him, enjoying the attention and watching Connor out the corner of his eye as the lad wandered around the lobby reacquainting himself with its gadgets and bits. Spike was off to one side, chatting with Gunn and pressing a cloth to his single bullet wound that had continued to bleed throughout the trip back. He could smell the blood from where he sat and Angel momentarily felt Angelus raise his head in concern over his boy. ‘He’s fine. Just a bullet wound.’ It was enough to push the demon back into quiescence.
The quiet moment was interrupted when Xander and Wesley made their entrance rapidly firing off questions about what had happened and checking everyone was okay. When Angel looked again Spike had disappeared and he closed his eyes trying to sense where the younger vampire had gone.
“So it worked then, Deadboy.”
Irritated both with the name and the interference Angel opened his eyes and met Xander’s which were glowing with humour and fun. In a moment of devilment, he smirked at the Scooby, then smiled genuinely when he saw the glaze of panic his expression induced, he always tended to forget when coming into contact with the Sunnydale crowd - no making Angelus faces - they didn’t like it.
“If you disregard the bullet wounds.” Xander sagged slightly at his words, so Angel quickly continued. “It went great Xander and thanks for helping, really.” He was rewarded by a goofy grin that made the man look five years younger. It must have been a rough year because up ‘til now Xander had looked all of his twenty-two years and more.
“So, umm, any idea where Spike went?” Interesting. There were waves of nervous energy pouring off the human and he was looking everywhere but at Angel. What had happened between those two he didn’t know about?
“I think he went into the yard. Through there.” He indicated the side entrance and Xander shot off, almost running in his haste to catch up. The moment he left, Angel found his hands full of a worried but happy Cordelia and soon forgot to listen in.
**
It was dark in the small garden and Xander stood in the doorway letting his eyes adjust, struck by the reversal of roles from the last time they had met. Eventually he saw the glowing cherry of a burning cigarette in the corner and knew that its appearance was a tacit invitation to walk over. If the vampire hadn’t wanted to be found he could easily have left over the wall and Xander would have been none the wiser.
Spike was sat on a low stone bench and looked up warily when he approached.
“Umm. Hi.” All he got in reply was a short nod and not being entirely certain how to interpret it, he continued standing, hands thrust in his pockets rocking back and forth on his heels. Spike finished the cigarette he was smoking and lit another off the butt, flicking the spent one into the darkness where it glowed for a few seconds before fading away.
“You gonna stand there all night, ‘cos you’re making the garden look untidy?”
“You don’t mind?” Xander went to sit but froze at the vampire’s next words.
“Seems to me you’ll do what you want whether I sodding mind or not.”
Ouch. That hurt. A witty riposte was waiting in the wings but Xander decided not to use it. That would lead to more snarking and he wanted to talk not fight. Ignoring the comment he sat down anyway, and adopted a similar position to Spike’s, leaning back against the wall with legs stretched out in front crossed at the ankles, arms folded across his chest.
Thus they sat in silence for several minutes, Xander rehearsing and discarding several opening statements and Spike, to all intents and purposes being a corpse, all right a smoking corpse. Eventually, the Scooby decided to try for complete honesty.
“Why do you do that?”
The vampire frowned, obviously thrown by the question. “Do what?”
“Push people away like that. Make yourself so unpleasant that they don’t bother any more.”
“Why do you let ‘em laugh at you?” It was a rhetorical question and Xander remembered those from Giles’ expositions, he wasn’t supposed to answer it. Well to coin a phrase much loved by his companion - sod that.
“Because at least when they’re laughing at me they notice me.”
There was silence again and Xander wondered if he had seriously misjudged Spike’s willingness to make up. Another cigarette was lit and several drags later the vampire started speaking quietly.
“I dunno if Buffy told you but before I was turned I was a complete ninny. And even afterwards I didn’t change much. I mean, yeah I was feeding and stuff but nothing else. But Angelus and Darla, they didn’t like that. Our family had a bit of a reputation, see, and it seemed William was letting the side down.”
A slight shudder ran through Spike’s body and he paused, tapping his ash, before continuing. “Suffice it to say that after the first twenty or so beatings I started to listen, to them, to my demon. Hell, I’d have listened to Miss Edith if it’d got them to stop, and I changed, became a proper vampire. Put down the books and picked up a railway spike. And the rest, as they say, is history.”
Xander listened to his words and gave them proper consideration, reflecting on how easily he could have become a bully under his father’s tongue-lashings, and how thrilled he had felt when exerting power over the vampire the previous week. He could understand what Spike was saying; it made sense, he could empathise - with a demon? Now that was a scary thought. But it didn’t answer everything.
“Okay. I get that. Living with Angelus must have been more Freddy than Friends, but that doesn’t explain why you still do it. I mean Angel isn’t Angelus but you’re still the same old Spike.” Except you’re not ‘cos I saw him. The man you try to hide. Go on Spike admit it.
“It’s been a hundred and twenty years. Guess he’s gone for good.”
“That is so not true.” Xander’s mouth was running away from him again. “Last week when you walked into the diner. I saw you way before you saw me, and you were different then. And outside, a-after, you were…” It was like standing the middle of the tracks looking at the locomotive that was heading straight for you but not being able to move, and the word tumbled out despite his desperate attempt to stop it. “…vulnerable.”
“I rest my case.” With a last flick of his wrist Spike discarded his latest fag butt and stood up ready to go back inside.
Amid rising panic, Xander reached out for him meaning to grab his wrist and prevent him walking off until he’d finished. But stopped when the vampire flinched away from the contact. Damn, this was not supposed to happen. He was supposed to apologise and put everything right, so he could go back to looking at himself in the mirror without seeing the other man crawling away from him on his hands and knees and… Oh god, he was never going to be able to put this right.
“I didn’t mean it to happen. It was a dumb game that went wrong. I just wanted to make you hurt like I did, like Buffy did. And…and I’m sorry, okay?”
Spike stood in silence, staring at the ground and tracing patterns in the dirt with his boot, but he didn’t move away so Xander took it as permission to continue. “Look, I know I wasn’t with the listening when you tried to apologise but what can I say, I’m insensitive guy. I just never thought that…” You had feelings too? He couldn’t say that. “I just never thought.” He finished lamely.
The ever-present LA traffic sounded loud in the garden and it was so long since either of them had spoken that he almost missed the words, but he couldn’t have mistaken the expression on the vampire’s face when he looked up. And Xander suddenly realised that this was probably William who was speaking right now, there was something about the words and the way they were put together that seemed different from the way Spike talked.
“I think the blame should be shared equally. After all, it’s something I did myself a thousand times or more and at least I could still walk away afterwards. Consider yourself forgiven Xander Harris, and now if you don’t mind I rather think I want to go home.”
By the time the shocked human had collected his thoughts enough to talk, Spike was halfway out of the gate and Xander ended up calling after him for the second time in a week.
“Spike? Wait up.” The figure in the gateway paused for a moment then kept walking and the young man sprinted to catch up. When he drew level the vampire stopped and waited for him to speak, going back to staring at the ground. Xander tried to peer at his face, wanting some eye contact before he spoke but to no avail and eventually he gave up, trusting that his words would not come completely out of left field.
“I just wanted to say that if things don’t, you know, work out for you here and you wanna come back to Sunnydale then… The thing is I haven’t got a roomie any more and you weren’t that bad to share with last time, I guess, so… and like no strings or anything, I don’t mean it like that and… oh crap.” Just say it, Harris. Open your stupid mouth and say it. “If you’re ever in Sunnydale, Spike, you have an open invitation to stay at my apartment.”
When there was no answer he continued. “Is that enough or do I have to actually be there. ‘Cos I just thought that if you were stuck outside getting toasty then it’d be good to have somewhere to go, but that’s no good if I’ve still gotta…”
“It’s enough.” Spike looked up and for a moment Xander wondered if he’d done the right thing. The cocky smirk and raised eyebrow were back, and there was an unmistakable twinkle in the vampire’s eyes. “Guess you’d better hope I don’t go lose this pesky soul, or I might be back for my nummy treat after all.”
Xander gulped and gave a nervous laugh, which was echoed by a confident chuckle as Spike swept off into the night, carrying the illusion of his duster around him.
**
Fred bounced across the lobby to greet him as he re-entered the hotel, having spent the best part of thirty minutes just walking and thinking. “Next up for bandages and…” her voice tailed off as she peered behind him, obviously expecting someone else. “Where is he?”
Xander looked back at the garden a bit uncomfortably. Had he done the right thing? Whatever. It was way too late for second thoughts and what better way did he have of getting Spike to forgive him. So he may end up with an un-dead roomie again. It would hardly be the first time and they could always go and shoot pool. “Umm, Spike? He said he was going home, but that was about half an hour ago.”
With a filthy glare that indicated he’d definitely done something wrong the slim woman spun on her heel and shouted across to the desk to where Wesley and Gunn were finishing up. “Wes, he’s gone home. You’d better get after him.”
The Watcher glanced up, looking momentarily panic stricken, before muttering, “Bloody hell,” and virtually running out of the building.
“What’s with him?” Xander stared after him, shocked at his rapid exit.
“The vamp stays at his place and it’s not been a good week. The dreams are back and even nastier apparently.” The vampire hunter was pushing files into drawers as he spoke and he grinned over at Xander. “Man, he came in Monday and his hands were shaking that much Fred had to hold…No, you don’t want to know.”
“He doesn’t want to know what?” Fred slipped on to the stool next to him and smiled at Gunn when he took her hand and kissed it.
“Vamps, dreams, unhappy ex-Watchers.”
“Oh yeah, Angel used to have terrible dreams. When I was living here, some days I’d sit in my room and listen, and he’d just scream and yell and cry, and I wouldn’t know what to do for him, so I’d just sit and try not to listen too hard.”
“That was just after Buffy died, right?”
“Yeah. I think that’s why he went away. He said he needed time to work through his grief. The dreams had stopped when he got back, leastwise I never heard him shouting again.”
“And Spike’s been having dreams too?”
“Has been since he got here.”
“Nasty dreams, Wes says.”
“He had a really, really bad one after Angelus hurt him, when he was staying with us. Made him go all grrr.”
“Then with the visions.”
“And now poor Connor and all the people he’s killed.”
The couple were taking turns talking, staring into each others eyes as if there was no one else in the room, and Xander was starting to feel like he was watching a private moment despite the topic. And wasn’t that wiggins inducing. Not the staring and the drooling, he was used to that, what with Buffy and Riley. No. The badness was coming from the way he was feeling about the vamps. Those neat lines he had in his head with humans on one side and vampires on the other were getting increasingly blurred every time he found out more. It was getting harder and harder to hate them.
**
“Wondered how long it would take you to get here.”
“You did well tonight, boy. I’m pleased.”
Spike glanced up at his Sire, framed against the dim lights of the bar and swirled his glass of cheap whisky. He was nervous, unsure exactly what Angel wanted even though he had known on a gut level that he would appear and, as he always did when uncertainty threatened, Spike lashed out, pouring all his fears into defending his fragile emotions.
“And now what, Angelus? I’m supposed to roll over like a good little dog and wag my tail for you? It’s been three weeks, nearly a month, and in all that time I didn’t warrant a phone call? A ‘sorry to do this Spike but I can’t see you any more’. What is this, eh? Cordelia shagging you so stupid, that you can’t drag your arse out of bed long enough to call?”
He slammed the glass onto the table, stood up and side stepped around Angel to head for the exit, deliberately knocking shoulders with him as he passed. When Angel made no attempt to stop him Spike almost turned back, convinced it must be a mistake. Surely his Sire would not let him just walk away, if he did then it meant that he really didn’t care.
Outside the streets were quiet and empty, barring the clatter of early morning deliveries and cycle mounted messengers trying to get a jump on the city traffic. The sun was rising and grey shadows had started their daily crawl up and over the buildings, which were slowly stripped of their colour as the daylight grew in intensity. The pink glare of the dawn was already reflected in the panes of towering office blocks burnishing their windows to brass and soon the only safe paths would be those that lay underground.
Beating a rapid retreat into an alley that still lay in deep shadow, Spike fought the urge to look back. Angel wasn’t going to follow that much was clear, and he couldn’t decide whether he was pleased that they had at last broken up properly, or if he was still in denial that it had happened at all. Maybe the best thing was not to think at all and just spend the day in the sewers killing anything that moved, so long as it wasn’t human or peaceful or…sod it. No more thinking, lots more killing. It was bound to help.
**
He’d walked out! Spike had walked out on him! Spike didn’t do that, well actually he did, but this time Angel hadn’t been expecting it, had been caught on the hop and now the boy had vanished. Sheltered from the rising sun in the entrance to an underground parking lot Angel closed his eyes to see if he could sense him. If he was on the move it wouldn’t be easy but he should at least be able to glean a general direction, even if he couldn’t pinpoint his exact location.
Aha. Sewers, heading north if he was any judge. With easy familiarity the vampire located the nearest entrance to the sewer network and set off in pursuit. It turned out to be much easier than he’d thought, just follow the bodies, demons thank god, but most had been virtually torn to pieces. They wouldn’t have to clean up this part of the city for a few weeks at least. He passed one or two traumatised looking humans and demons belonging to the more peaceful species, and found he didn’t have to ask for guidance as, with shaky fingers, they pointed down this tunnel or that and Angel soon found the next corpse indicating that their direction had been accurate.
Pretty soon it was no longer a case of trailing the body parts but following the screams. With barely a pause for thought, Angel barrelled down the tunnel and swung round the corner, almost losing his footing on the slimy surface of the concrete and what he found left him in tears and gagging against the wall. It must have been Etius demons, there were several severed limbs scattered around the makeshift lair and nothing else could do that sort of damage, it took claws harder than titanium and jaws designed to cut through metal to rip anything apart quite so completely. Recovering his composure he squatted down next to one corpse, and examined it closely. It looked like a juvenile, which meant there had to have been at least a dozen, the standard size for a nest and in those sorts of numbers they were difficult to subdue.
There was blood everywhere, most of it all over Spike who was leaning against the wall, trying not to breathe while he laughed.
“Etuis demons? Didn’t I teach you better than this?” The smell was appalling and nearly made him gag again, as the tainted air reached his taste buds.
“Shut up, yer ponce and give me a hand.” There was a slick of curdled, yellowish demon blood and raw sewage between Spike and the exit, he was going to have to jump it or wade through to escape into the sewers proper. The demons had done a proper job on the pipe that ran through the small low ceiling-ed chamber, and it was still oozing rank substances onto the floor below.
“Right now, boy, I wouldn’t touch you with somebody else’s.” It was no good, the look of disgust on Spike’s face at the prospect of having to get out of this alone, combined with the sight of him covered from head to toe in Etuis blood was too much. Angel started to laugh again, using the only cleanish bit of wall he could find to lean against as his knees weakened in hysteria.
“At least chuck me a board or something. Come on, Angel don’t be a git.”
Taking pity on his stranded Childe, Angel located several large pieces of corrugated metal to serve as a makeshift bridge and between them they managed to lay them across the floor. Then with supreme care and delicacy, Spike picked his way across. A couple of steps from the end he jumped, and Angel suddenly found his arms full of smelly bemired vampire, arms and legs wrapped tightly around him, generously sharing his coating of slime. A big, sloppy - in so many ways - kiss was planted on his lips and, with an insufferably smug grin Spike chirruped, “Thanks, Daddy.”
God, those words took him back years, to easier days when his entire existence consisted of feeding and fucking, before the complications of a soul and relationships with humans. Before the world became a scary place which continually demanded he make impossible decisions and put him in the forefront of battles he couldn’t possibly win. It was a simple matter to spin them round against that cleanish bit of wall, easier still to ignore the smell and return the kiss with one far more urgent. It was more difficult to deny Angelus when he rose but Angel was victorious, beating the demon down with self-confidence reinforced by their successful rescue of Connor.
“Angel, no!”
Spike was pushing his arms and head away, and Angel resisted, wanting to lose himself in his boy’s body and drive away uncomfortable thoughts about real life and fatherhood.
“Will you get off me, you dozy gowk.”
All he had to do was keep kissing him ‘till he shut up.
“Angel!”
“Oh, god, no, yes.”
“Please, this isn’t what I want…”
“Want you, need you.”
See, he was bound to give in sooner or later.
Angel only stopped when Spike’s hand covered his, stilling him as he went to release their pants. As he came back to himself, meeting his Childe’s stormy darkened gaze, Angel realised that he’d misread things. Spike was asking for something specific that a frantic make-out session obviously wasn’t going to fulfil. He dropped his hands and moved back, expecting to be abandoned, or punched, or at least shouted at, considering the row they’d had earlier. He wasn’t. Instead he was pushed back against the wall and Spike dropped to his knees in front of him. So, that was what he wanted - Angel wasn’t about to start arguing.
It took concentration and a concerted effort, aided by a shake of his head, to keep the images at bay but Spike felt he needed this. And when Angel’s pants were round his knees and he at last had access to the sight and smell of his Sire, his feeling became absolute certainty. He leaned forward, placing a kiss reverentially on the tip of that familiar cock before taking it deeply into his mouth, allowing the experience of cool flesh pressing into his throat to soothe away the brand that had remained for nigh on a week. The muted groan of arousal from above merely spurred him on and as his taste buds became suffused with the taste that was pure Angel and family, Spike felt his own excitement increase, his jeans becoming tighter in compliment to the pleasure he was giving.
When Angel’s pocket started to vibrate and play an obnoxiously cheerful tune that Cordy had programmed into the cell phone, he ignored it until it went off, for it only to start again two minutes later. Whoever it was, their timing was lousy and Spike was quite prepared to ignore it, but he could tell from Angel’s reaction that he was finding it a distraction. So, without stopping what he was doing, he groped for the offending piece of technology, flipped it open, pushed the answer button and pressed it into Angel’s hand.
“Angel? Have you seen Spike? He left the hotel hours ago and Xander said he was coming home. He hasn’t appeared and I’m getting worried.”
Wesley…telephone…speak…Spike… “Armph?”
“Angel? Are you there? Is everything all right?”
“Y-yeah.” Just like that. Keep doing that.
“Is Spike with you?”
“Y-yeah?” Brain work!
“Can I speak to him?” That might be a bit difficult. I always told him not to speak with his mouth full.
“Umm…no. H-he’s busy finishing off a demon right now.” Spike smirked around his cock and chuckled, making Angel’s knees lose another level of control.
“Oo, what sort of demon.” Damn Watchers and their curiosity…and damn childer and their talented mouths and… oh god, not the fingers. Angel’s hips bucked forward as two slicked digits pushed inside him and blunt nails scrapped over his sensitive tissues.
“Angel? Angel? Is the demon dangerous? Do you need me to come?”
“No - no. Doing that myself. G-gotta go Wes.” He managed to press the ‘off’ button and the cell phone dropped from his hand, landing with a crack as the casing gave on its impact with the concrete. There was no more time for thought just feeling as he wrapped his fingers in his Childe’s dark locks and rode out his orgasm, breath harsh in his ears and throat.
Spike accepted everything Angel had to offer, allowing the flood of semen in his mouth and throat to flush away the last trace of Harris from his soul. This was the nature of forgiveness for him; finally replacing Xander with Angel/Sire/Family would let him move on and forget the humiliation and hurt. And now that was out of the way he had a stonking hard-on and a well-prepared ass to plunder. In a smooth move he had Angel turned and leaning against the wall, hands outstretched and body bent slightly so his ass was raised into just the right position.
Slow or quick? Slow or quick? Trying to decide, Spike filled in his time with running his hands up under Angel’s shirt, spreading his fingers and tracing each side of that exquisitely muscled back following the line of his spine. When Angel pushed back and whimpered slightly, Spike draped himself forward, leaning his full weight across his Sire’s back, fingers ghosting round to his chest and scratching over already hardened nipples.
“Want something, love?” He breathed huskily into that perfect shell-like ear, and grinned when his words elicited a shiver.
“Just do it, Spike.” Angel tried for authoritative and managed desperate.
There was far too much cloth and not nearly enough skin in this equation so, disregarding the difficulties of explaining away ruined garments, Spike slipped briefly into game face and use his sharper nails to neatly rip the silky shirt into two pieces. Better. Now he could see as well as touch, and a mouth being more effective than hands he ran open-mouthed kisses across the back of Angel’s neck and up into his hair, grinding his denim covered erection into the older vampire’s naked crack.
Another whimper, how satisfying. And never let it be said that William the Bloody was anything less than satisfying. He kicked Angel’s legs as far apart as his pants would allow and with a small grunt of relief released his own jeans, his cock springing free from the restrictive material. One thumb pressed against and easily disappearing into that tight hole indicated that his Sire was more than ready for him, so with minimum fuss he lined up the head of his cock and pushed slowly forward, watching avidly as his entire length was hungrily consumed. Fully seated, Spike paused momentarily, resting his forehead on Angel’s back. Just enjoying the comfort and familiarity of the position, and the body beneath him, each time it was like coming home but new and surprising at the same time, a sensation he was certain could never grow old.
A plaintive “Spike”, brought him back to the here and now, and he started to rock gently, determined to make this last and equally unsure of his ability to do so if he wasn’t careful. Damn, Angel was so tight. Through his gasping breaths, Spike realised he was saying it out loud, chanting it into the skin against his lips, “So tight, so fucking tight. Gonna kill me, love. Wring me out and leave me dust, you will.” Obviously his unintended words had a desired effect as Angel started to push back against him, his breathing increasing to match the rhythm of their actions and they were soon moving as one, the effect of each thrust met and multiplied by independent, yet perfectly synchronised movement.
As urgency increased and things started to spiral out of control, Angel let out a loud groan of relief when a hand snaked round his side and started jerking him off firmly. The face currently breathing cool air repeatedly over his shoulder, rubbed cat-like against it and he felt the change, bones shifting and ridges becoming prominent, blunt human teeth changing into the oh so much more erotic graze of fangs. He arched his neck, wordlessly begging for the bite, not certain whether Spike would take the hint, but he needn’t have worried. With a muted roar his Childe struck, fangs sinking deeply into his neck and drawing draught after powerful draught of blood. It was enough to shove them both off the precipice, and as Angel bathed the wall with his second climax of the morning, he heard the muttered curses and felt Spike shuddering against him as his bowels were filled with cool release.
When the shaking continued, and the curses grew louder and punctuated with groans, Angel reached back and ran a soothing hand down his Childe’s still clad thigh.
“Spike? You okay?” There was no answer, just the sounds of distress increasing, and with sudden insight the older vampire realised what was going on. He twisted out of Spike’s embrace and turned, catching the Seer just as he fell completely into the throes of his vision. Holding the convulsing body, he muttered platitudes and comforting words, as the Powers placed whatever knowledge they considered necessary directly into the vampire’s brain. The spasms continued for another minute or so then started to still, and he ran the back of his hand down Spike’s face trying to reassure him through the pain he could see there. His reward, such as it was, consisted of opening, pain-filled eyes and a renewed round of cursing.
“Fucking wankers. Why can’t they just send a postcard?”
“It could have been worse. Two minutes earlier and the Powers That Be might well have ended up as the Powers That Aren’t.” That at least got him a smile, even if it was a bit wan.
“So, vision. What have we got?” The cell phone was retrieved and was discovered to be still working, if a little cracked and sticky. Angel called the hotel to bring the gang up to date on the latest nasty stalking the streets, or in this case, the marina and as the sewer they were currently occupying lay halfway between the hotel and their destination, he arranged to meet Gunn there. The slime and missing shirt could be explained by an unexpected encounter on his way.
“Now what?” Spike was leaning against the wall still looking a little shaky and somewhat washed out, even for him.
“Now what, what?” On a good day his Sire’s intelligence reached Neanderthal, this wasn’t a good day.
“Is this a quick kiss and no tell followed by weeks of being studiously ignored, or are we back having a thrice-weekly shag behind the bike sheds.” There was silence while Spike hunted for his fags and lighter, grunting quietly with annoyance and discomfort from the bullet still embedded in his arm. He did manage to extract them from his only slightly slimy pocket only to discover they were irredeemably crushed.
“Well?” He looked up at Angel who was still staring at him like something that had crawled out of the local tar pit, faintly disgusting and by all rights extinct. Guess this was another break up then.
Gathering the remnants of his dignity around him, the younger vampire stood, keeping his eyes firmly on the ground. “Right then. If you don’t mind I’ve got a nasty little headache and a bullet wound that need taking care of. I’ll see you around, ‘kay?”
This time Angel did catch his arm but it wasn’t for the kiss and make up that Spike wanted. “I’m sorry, Spike but it’s Cordy, you know. I do love her and I can’t keep doing this to her.”
In a moment of complete candidness, Spike looked up and met Angel’s wary chocolate gaze. “Do you want me to go away, ‘cos I’ve got a standing invitation from Harris if I wanted to go back to Sunnyhell, and if that would make things easier?”
“No. Don’t go.” Was that panic? Maybe there was hope after all. “I’d miss…” There was a pause. “I’d like it if you came by the hotel and sparred with Connor… and I think he’d like that too.”
Crumbs from the great, aren’t I shaggable, Angelus table again. Was it enough? Spike really didn’t know and he wasn’t about to commit here and now. “We’ll see, ‘kay?” And when Angel’s shoulders sagged, he added. “The kid’s all right, I like him. He reminds me of his dad.”
They parted in silence, each finding their own way home.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
2nd February 2003
“Where the hell have you been?!” The Watcher was furious. He’d been pacing his apartment for several hours waiting for Spike to get back and now wanted to vent some spleen in the ungrateful creature’s direction. Unfortunately, the vampire wasn’t playing. He shrugged out of a slime-encrusted jacket, which he threw in the general direction of the kitchen and wandered into the bathroom.
“Out.”
“Out? What do you mean, out? It’s been seventeen hours since you left the hotel and for at least five of those no one knew where the hell you were.” He followed the filthy vampire into the bathroom meaning to avert his eyes when clothes were shucked off in front of him, but finding himself too caught up by the sight to actually do it.
Completely ignoring the human’s presence, Spike continued to undress and reached across the bath to turn on the shower, adjusting the temperature to something just on the cooler side of scalding before hopping in. It had been a long week, he’d spent the last few hours digging a bullet out of his arm and trying to convince himself that Angel was a bastard that didn’t deserve him. All he wanted was a shower and some sleep but Wesley, it seemed, was not going to co-operate.
Pulling the shower curtain back from it’s position across the bath, exposing the now irritated vampire who was trying to get clean, Wesley started in on him again. “It’s bloody ungrateful that’s what it is. You expect me to be here, keep house, do your laundry, pick up after you and you think you can waltz back in here at any time of the day or night without so much as an explanation.”
Spike suppressed a snigger, the Watcher sounded remarkably like a parent berating a badly behaved teenager, but he guessed now was not the right time to be laughing at him. Instead he turned around and put his hands on his hips, completely conscious of the effect his naked body had and relying on that to send Wesley scurrying away as it had on other occasions. This time the plan backfired.
“And if you think you can flaunt that at me and get me to leave you alone, you’re wrong.” There wasn’t so much as a hint of a blush on the human’s face. Huh, maybe the Watcher had some stones after all.
Turning back under the water, he grabbed the soap and a washcloth. “Right, if you don’t want that, I suggest you get out and let me finish getting clean.”
“I never said that.”
He nearly dropped the soap and turned slowly until he was once again facing the room with its attendant and obviously quite horny human. “Excuse me?”
Feeling a confidence he wasn’t really used to - but this time he wasn’t going to run - Wesley forced himself to meet the vampire’s level gaze and smirked, raising an eyebrow in mockery of the expression he had seen on Spike’s face a thousand times.
“What is it with you humans wanting to get your hands on my hot little body?” With a slight gulp and feigning a bravado he didn’t quite feel - god he hated this sudden feeling of vulnerability - Spike spun back round and continued washing vigorously. Humour was surely the best way to go because this was just getting ridiculous. Firstly Harris-I’m-so-heterosexual-I-probably-don’t-even-know-I’ve-got-a-prostate. And now Wesley, his friendly, slightly bumbling neighbourhood Watcher who he was going to seduce and bed in his own good time. Well, just, fuck.
“If you insist.” Damn, did he say that out loud? He must have because a couple of moments later a pair of arms snaked round him clasping him firmly round the waist, and an extremely naked body was pressing against his back.
Spike’s body tightened almost imperceptibly in Wesley’s arms and he was just about to release the vampire and back out of the shower, the apologies and excuses for his unforgivable behaviour already forming on his lips, when he relaxed, head and shoulders dropping as if in surrender. In response Wesley leaned down and kissed the exposed skin on the nape of his neck, then traced the outline of the vampire’s spine with his tongue to where it disappeared into his hairline.
“Do you want this?” It was risking rejection but Wesley had to know. Although Spike had spent the best part of five months alternately flirting with him and leching after him, he needed to know whether it had all been posturing. This was no soul-less demon that could be used and abused with impunity. Their long talks and longer drunken crying jags had shown the Watcher that inside that impervious body and underneath that brash exterior was a sensitive man that he didn’t want to hurt.
A nod, silent and uncomplicated and nothing more. Wesley took control and turned the vampire in his arms, hoping to share a kiss but he found lips that were unwilling to part under his and eyes that remained resolutely shut. Determined not to take advantage the Watcher took Spike’s face in his hands and asked again.
“Are you sure?” This time the vampire did open his eyes and Wesley saw such sadness there it almost broke his heart.
“Yeah.” It wasn’t Angel or Angelus. But neither of them wanted him so why shouldn’t he take comfort where it was offered. What was it he’d said to Anya? Moving on, that was it. He needed to move on. That said, he couldn’t bring himself to kiss the Watcher. If he were going to do this, it would be with the taste of Angel in his mouth.