The Highlander Factor - Part five

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was just the five of them, Willow standing at the bottom of the stairs, her face already taut with concentration as she fought to hold Angelus still with the power of her mind. The Watcher, because whatever he said a Watcher was always a Watcher in Spike’s book, hovering between the Witch and the Seer ready to lend a helping hand wherever it was needed. Nearer to Angelus and still showing the strain of their earlier encounter, stood Cordelia trying to compose herself for what she must do. Lastly himself, so close to his Sire that he could easily reach out and touch him, leaning against the wall and affecting a nonchalant air.

But the emotions raging beneath the surface couldn’t have been less like the studied indifference on his face. The basement wall was unrelentingly hard and rough through his shirt; Cordelia was in front of him, Wesley off to one side, and for a moment, Spike was tempted to request a blind fold and a cigarette just to complete the allusion of facing a firing squad. What would it be like, having his soul ripped away? Would it be painful? It had certainly hurt when it went in, so he guessed it would be the same on the way out.

As he watched, Cordy found the place inside herself that she had been searching for and her eyes focussed slowly, first on Angelus, then on him. She moved, slowly elegantly towards him and pressed herself close, bringing her lips up to his and drawing him down into an intimate kiss. He lost himself in the feel of her mouth, her tongue parting his lips and twining with his, her body warm and yielding in his arms and, how long had it been since he’d felt something so deliciously delicate, he could break her with no more than a thought.

From his position by the stairs, Wesley watched with rapt fascination as Cordelia embraced the younger vampire, their bodies melding tightly to each other as they exchanged a passionate kiss. His mind wandered as it seemed to do these days at inappropriate moments, wondering how those cool lips would feel against his own, that lean muscled body holding him captive with so little effort. The sudden blue flare of power blinded him, driving him backward several steps and he heard Willow gasp in surprise.

He spun holding out a steadying hand, supporting her elbow as she wavered slightly on the spot and he found that the touch grounded him as well. When he looked back, Spike was on the floor, curled in a foetal position, shudders racking his body and Wesley could hear a low keening sound that spoke of deep mind wrenching pain. Her face devoid of all emotion, the Seer moved on to her next victim, totally dependent on the Witch holding him immobile with her magics.

She embraced Angelus, surrendering and pressing herself against his naked body. Unable to escape, the vampire submitted to her kiss, his eyes darkening with lust at her unknowingly erotic touch. This time Wesley closed his eyes before the power flared, but the afterglow still stained his sight with yellows and golds when he reopened them in time to catch Cordelia as she fell limply to the floor.

“Unchain me, then get out.” The words were hissed near his ear and Wesley turned to see Angel staring intently at him. He hesitated momentarily. Was this Angel or Angelus? “If the chip has stopped working he will kill you.”

The words decided for him. He handed Cordelia over to Willow and unlocked one manacle, pressing the key into Angel’s hand before following the women quickly up the stairs, locking the door behind him and reinstating the improvised barricades they had used earlier.

As the door clicked shut and Angel heard the lock turn, he immediately unchained himself and dropped to his knees, still suffering the residual pain of having his soul returned. His mind was whirling, memories still hazy as to what exactly had happened while Angelus was loose, and he could hear the demon screaming at him from its prison inside his soul. His Soul, that Spike had returned. That he had lost. Willow. Dawn. My god, what had he done? A ripping sob tore from his throat as images of the acts he had committed came back to him. The impression of Dawn’s body under his hands and the plans he had made to break her to his will, the fear in Willow’s face when he had bitten and drunk from her, driving her towards madness and darkness.

It was too much. This time he had gone too far. This was no brief outing induced by drugs and a foolhardy actress, Angelus had been free long enough to do real damage, to his friends, family, loved ones. His tears of regret and repentance wetted the ground unnoticed as his obscenities replayed over and over in his mind.

“Angel?” A gentle hand on his shoulder accompanied the word, but Angel was too immersed in his grief to answer. When the hand became arms wrapped around him, he fell back into a comforting embrace, and allowed himself to be held tightly against Spike’s chest as his Childe continued to whisper words of comfort in his ear. “It wasn’t your fault. Please Angel, don’t cry. It wasn’t your fault this time.”

It could have been minutes or hours that passed before the wracking heaving sobs slowed and eventually stopped, only to be replaced by an eerie silence. Spike continued to hold Angel in his arms, using his Sire’s presence to distract him from the thoughts roiling through his mind. He had no idea if the chip still worked; the urge to hunt and kill was still there, but that had never gone away even with the soul. There was something different, something changed inside him, of that much he was certain, and Angel was obviously Angel again so his soul must be gone, it must have worked.

“God, what have I done.” It was whispered against his chest and Spike dropped his head and kissed Angel’s temple, offering what comfort he could to his distraught Sire.

“It wasn’t you, love. It was him.”

“Willow…Dawn.”

“Are both fine. Little Bit needed some stitches but she’ll be right soon enough. No harm, no foul.”

“You?”

“Have had worse at his hands. All healed now anyway, so nothing for you to worry over.” Spike ran his hands through Angel’s hair, trying to impress soothing thoughts through the ends of his fingertips.

“Cordelia?”

He let out a small laugh. “She’s a tough one isn’t she, like the Slayer. It will take more than Angelus’ foul mouth to bring her down. Don’t worry they’ll forgive you. You’ll be back to being the swirly-coated avenger in no time.”

Angel let out another sob. “Buffy. I was going to kill Buffy.”

There was silence for a moment then Spike huffed. “Yeah, well, that’s what Angelus does when he gets out for a spin these days, innit. Single minded bastard.”

An undercurrent of bitterness ran through Spike’s words and even Angel couldn’t miss what was so carefully not being said. “When I’m not too busy stealing other people’s girls.”

Silence. This was a subject they had strategically avoided on the odd occasions they had encountered each other since and it was about time it was addressed. “I’ve never said I was sorry for that, for taking Dru away from you. It wasn’t my proudest moment.”

There was real anger in Spike’ voice when he replied. “Angel, will you shut the fuck up, it wasn’t you, it was him. You are not him. I wouldn’t be holding Angelus like this, I don’t give a damn about him and I sure as hell wouldn’t…”

As the words tailed off, Angel pulled himself upright, leaving one hand on his Childe’s knee, wanting to continue the contact but needing enough distance to deal with whatever it was Spike had nearly said. “Wouldn’t what?”

Spike refused to answer, his eyes examining the walls, his nails, looking anywhere except at Angel. It was not supposed to happen like this, he was going to seduce his Sire and slowly convince him that he wanted and needed him, not blurt his feelings out in a fit of petulant temper. He’d tried that with Buffy, and look how well things had turned out there. No power on earth could make him tell Angel what he felt.

“Will? Talk to me.” Angel caught Spike’s chin and forced his face round so that their eyes met, and his stomach lurched at what he saw lurking in their stormy depths. A dark and desperate loneliness that he knew only too well tinged with…love? It was something he’d seen in Spike’s eyes often enough, and should be able to identify it with ease except that Angelus had always detested his childer’s ability to feel that emotion, ignored it when he could and had beaten them when they expressed it in front of him.

He ravaged Angelus’ memories looking for a clue, anything that would make sense of the words. Then it appeared; it was the look that William had worn just after he was made, the first time they had woken up in the same bed, before the games and the petty cruelties had started. It was love for the Sire he’d never had.

Grabbing his hand back off Spike’s leg, Angel leapt up and strode over to the cupboard to rescue a spare pair of sweats and a shirt, the situation was too awkward to discuss with one of them naked. There was silence in the room as he dressed and then deliberately turned back toward the other vampire, still sat leaning against the wall, his eyes lowered as if waiting for the axe to fall.

He had to say something but what? He didn’t love Spike; love was something reserved in his mind for the fragile powerful girl just budding into womanhood that he remembered Buffy to be, or the quiet strength and cutting truthfulness of Cordelia. What he felt for his Childe was not this, it was need, desire, possessiveness and ownership, but he couldn’t love the demon that squatted at his feet.

“I…” he started, then stopped as Spike glared up at him and cut him off.

“Don’t say it.” The words were harsh, coming from a throat tight with tears and Angel wanted to make things right before everything spiralled out of control.

“You can go back…”

“I said,” Spike rolled to his feet and punctuated his statement by sending the punch bag flying across the room, “don’t fucking say it.”

“It’s just that…”

Angel found himself backing across the room as Spike advanced, trembling with rage and frustration. “You know, I was wrong. You are as bad as he is, worse ‘cos you’ve got a soul and should know better. At least with Angelus I never expected anything more than a kick in the teeth.”

And that comment was so grotesquely unfair he nearly choked on it, Angel had done nothing whatsoever to encourage this obsession from him and now he was accusing his Sire of something he hadn’t done. But he couldn’t help it. Just as Angel had perceived what resided in his heart, so he had seen Angel’s rejection laid out clearly in terms he could understand. ‘You will never mean as much to me as them’, and it cut him to the bone. That his Sire could care more for the slayer who had used him up and thrown him away, and for the Seer who had seen all he was and had become and still condemned him. That the one person on the whole planet who should take him in, was rejecting him in favour of two women who felt he was beneath them was enough to send him completely over the edge.

The room suffered the initial brunt of his anger, storage containers and junk soaring into every corner, followed by the wire front off the weapons locker. The weapons themselves were not randomly destroyed but systematically broken, crushed and stamped on by booted feet until they resembled nothing more than scrap metal. Angel stood to one side, knowing better than to get between his Childe and a destructive spree such as this. It was only when the stairs were attacked, disintegrating into splintered piles of potentially lethal wooden shards that he dared interfere.

“Spike. Stop!”

In answer, he got no more than a growl. This had gone too far and needed to end, god only knew what Spike would start on once the stair rails were gone; there was nothing else left he hadn’t smashed beyond repair. He strode across the room and grabbed Spike from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.

In retrospect he should have expected it but it had been a long time since he had tried to restrain his Childe in any fashion, let alone when halfway through a temper tantrum. Spike dropped like a dead weight in his embrace, leaving Angel dangerously off balance, then used the older vampire’s weight against him to throw him over his head onto his back. Angel landed with a thud against the edge of the concrete steps and Spike hurdled him to get to the door.

The barricades Wesley had replaced didn’t stand a chance and fell quickly, leaving behind a scattering of furniture and boxes across the hall. Angel followed at top speed through the empty doorway and skidded to a halt in the lobby, confronted by a Mexican stand-off much like the one Faith had defused days before. Gunn, stake in hand, had Spike pinned against the reception desk and Spike, in full game face was seconds away from sinking his fangs into Gunn’s neck. Angel roared and threw himself across the lobby, not caring which one he stopped, just determined to see neither kill the other.

Both human and vampire went down as Angel hit them, Spike rolling and finding his feet first. Glancing quickly around at the shocked open-mouthed expressions of his former friends he headed for the door, burst through it, and disappeared into the night.

Silence reigned in the aftermath of the confrontation until the stake Gunn still held in his hand fell to the floor in a clatter. The noise, loud against a too still backdrop, seemed to break through the spell that had bound them speechless and unmoving, as the main door swung aimlessly backward and forward on its hinges. Fred ran across the lobby, Gunn’s name pealing from her lips as she threw herself down at her lover’s side checking him for injuries.

He brushed her off and stood up, his face grimly set. “Right, get the weapons. We’re going after him.”

The others started to move, slowly mechanically, like clockwork soldiers set up to go into battle. Angel stared at them as they picked up and discarded favoured toys, readying themselves to go out and murder his Childe.

Murder his Childe? Where had that come from? He quickly replayed the events in the basement, focussing on Spike’s words and body language, his quiet comfort and gentle touch and finally the look in his eyes when Angel had seen…had seen that Spike still had his soul.

“No!” His voice was strident across the room and enough to stop the troopers as they began to leave. “We can’t do this.”

Gunn, as he’d expected, was the first to object. “Angel, man. I don’t want to fight you over this but the chip isn’t working, he would have killed me. And I don’t think your calls are always good when there’s family involved.”

He turned towards the door only to pause when Angel spoke again.

“I think he still has his soul.”

This time it was Fred who interceded. “Even if he has, Angel, we still have to kill him. He-he told me some things, before, when he was staying with us.” Gunn stared at her horrified that she hadn’t shared this information with him before. She ignored him and carried on. “He said, the things he’d done for all those years. It wasn’t just the demon that made him do them. It was him, the man, and, I don’t know about anyone else but that makes me think he’d still be dangerous. At least that’s what I think.”

Her words tapered off into silence and Angel could have cried when he heard what she said. He remembered his own dreams, much reduced from the years just after he’d been cursed, but still enough to drive him from his bed to pace the floor in desperation, the sounds of his victims screaming in his ears. And how he had felt when the final piece of the puzzle had fallen into place, the terrible realisation that had come under the influence of the First Evil that it was the man, not the demon, who should be punished for his crimes. It was remarkable that Spike had discovered this so early and without outside knowledge, and yet maybe not so surprising. His Childe’s capacity for love was as un-tempered as ever, and it possibly gave him access to insights Angel had never had. His eyes roved across the assembled army, resting briefly on Cordelia’s face when he saw the flush that had risen in her cheeks.

“He won’t kill. If he still has his soul, he will not take a human life.” Wesley had gone unnoticed in the doorway of the office. He had made no move to join the others and stayed, ensconced until reason could prevail against panic.

“No way. Angel has his soul, so Spike must have lost his. I say we ship out.” The Slayer was deeply shaken by what had happened, having been taken completely unawares by Spike’s sudden reappearance and Angel’s deft handling of the situation.

“No, Angel and Wesley are right. If Spike still has his soul then we have to find another way.” Cordelia added her voice to the side of reason.

“I agree.” Willow put her stake down on the couch and followed it, sitting heavily, as if relieved of some hideous burden. “Spike helped us when Buffy was dead and…and I think he deserves a second chance.”

“We have a majority vote.” Ever the Englishman, Wesley put democracy before hierarchy. “We do nothing tonight. Angel? A word in the office, please.”

Without looking back, he spun on his heel and disappeared. Gunn and Faith exchanged looks and moved to replace their weapons in the cabinet. Fred joined them and stood silently next to Gunn, until he took her in his arms and cradled her gently against his chest.

Assured that no one was about to leave, Angel followed Wesley into the office and closed the door behind him.

It was the first time he had been alone with Wesley since he’d tried to murder him at the hospital. And yet, the man who had stolen his human child away from him, and condemned him to a life amongst demons was now fighting to protect his demon childe from humans who wanted to kill him. The irony was not lost on Angel as he faced his former boss across a desk that had once been occupied by each of them and now belonged to neither.

“Why do you think Spike still has his soul?” Wesley was cutting to the chase. Faith and Gunn may have stood down, but he was under no illusions that they had a limited time frame in which to act.

Angel sank into a chair. “In the basement. We had a fight, but before that. There was something about him. I’ve known Spike is nearly all his incarnations and…well, he’s never looked like that before. He’s still hurting, Wes. I could see it.”

Relaxing into the chair on his side of the desk Wesley sighed. “I agree. He didn’t attack Gunn. I can’t be certain exactly what happened, but I think Gunn panicked when he ploughed into the lobby and went for him on instinct.”

With a nod, Angel concurred. “If Spike had wanted him dead there are quicker ways of doing it than biting him. Breaking his neck…”

“Thank you. I don’t think you need to go on. I am well aware of how easily vampire’s can kill their prey.”

Their eyes met and briefly held until Angel dropped his gaze. He still blamed Wesley for what had happened to Connor but time, Angelus and a mistimed stake had put the whole thing into a little more perspective.

“So what now?” Angel shrugged. He wasn’t sure exactly where to start, finding Spike in LA was going to be downright impossible.

“Is there anyway we can check, anyone who could confirm he still has his soul.”

“Lorne could, but he’s in Vegas.”

Wesley reached out and grasped the phone. “I’ll call him. You get back out there and make sure the others don’t take off.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

As the office door had slammed closed, the five people in the lobby remained silent, split into two distinct groups and ignoring the filthy looks being tossed around. Eventually Faith broke the silence, directing her question at Willow and Cordelia who were sat together on the couch.

“I don’t get it. He tried to kill both of you and you want him running around the streets again. Okay, I was all for helping him before but now. He’s just another vamp.”

It was Willow who offered something in the way of an explanation. “He’s changed. Even before he got his soul back, he’d changed. And hey, who are you to start throwing stones. I seem to remember body swapping badness and all sorts of nasty things last time you were in Sunnydale.”

Gunn growled from his corner. “Could be you’re only protecting him because you’ve been throwing down with him.”

“What?” The shock in Willow’s voice was almost palpable.

He swaggered over towards her. “I heard he was doing someone in Sunnydale and I’m saying it was you.”

“It was Buffy.” No one had seen Angel come out of the office, but his words could have stopped a ten tonne truck in its tracks.

“Buffy?!” The name was choked from Gunn’s throat.

“Jeez, what is it with that girl? Does she screw every good-looking dead guy she runs into?” Angel shot Faith a filthy look and went over to stand with Cordelia and Willow, placing himself strategically between them and the others.

“Spike and Buffy were sleeping together last spring. But it’s over, completely over. Anyone got anything to add?” His look was challenging enough that even Gunn wasn’t going to question it.

“Okay,” he deliberately turned his back on the others and addressed Willow. “Can you do some sort of locator spell that will help us find him?”

“Angel?” Cordelia had remained mostly silent listening to the argument as it had swept round her. “Can I just ask? What if we do find him? What will you do then?”

He could see it in her eyes. She knew, had most likely seen, the nature of the relationship between him…no, between Angelus and Spike, and she was scared. Terrified that having given up so much to save him, he was going to turn away from her.

As gently as he could Angel took her in his arms. If he could have used his body to speak, then every atom of love he felt for her would have been imprinted on her brain for eternity. Except now she had no eternity. For the first time, the reality of that hit him. Cordelia was fully human again and with the visions she would die, leave him, just as Buffy had done but more finally. And when his Shanshu came he would be alone, there would be no one left to share his humanity with. He clutched at her more tightly as if he could hold her death at bay with his embrace, and sank his face into her hair, his tears wetting her neck.

He felt her hands in his hair as she pulled him down to kneel between her legs and then wrapped her arms tightly around him.

“We’ll find him, Angel. I promise.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Willow slumped forward, her body failing just before her mind. She was exhausted. This was the third locator spell she had done in just under a week, and although each had worked they had still been unable to find Spike. Each time she revealed his location, Angel and Wesley had set off in pursuit only to find that he’d moved on. What they found in his wake seemed to confirm their suspicions that he still had his soul; vampires dusted, demons, dead or dying, and grateful victims with tales of being rescued in the nick of time by someone who refused thanks or offers of payment, and disappeared without trace.

Based on that evidence Faith and Gunn had grudgingly conceded that Angel might be right and the Slayer had turned her full attention on searching for Connor and Justine. The vampire hunter had sulked for several days, amply aided by Fred’s concerns about Spike’s murderous nature, anxieties that had now spread to include Angel and Willow had overheard several conversations as Fred tried to convince her lover that leaving LA completely might be their best option. So far Gunn was resisting her and had even gone so far as to offer Willow a quiet apology for his unfounded accusation.

When confined to the hotel by daylight or lack of information, Angel and Cordelia were inseparable, talking for hours, as if every moment could be their last, which Willow supposed could be true. So far there had been no more visions, not that unusual according to Wesley, but as she watched her friends, the Witch could see their desperation, conveyed in every casual touch and small embrace. Neither able to truly commit when one was condemned to die and the other to live eternally.

“Anything?”

She looked up to see Angel lurking in the doorway. “The sewers, downtown. I’ll point it out on the map.”

He shook his head and walked in. “Don’t bother. If he’s in the sewers he’ll be gone by the time we get there.”

Willow stared at him from the floor then held out her hand for a pull up, as they touched she gave a little push inside her head, and for a moment met and felt Angel’s thoughts.

“You’ve given up!”

He flinched back from the accusation, his expression evidence of his guilt even as his mouth opened to reject it.

“Don’t try to deny it, mister. I saw it.” She advanced on him, driving the vampire back towards the door with a finger jabbing into his chest. “How could you! He was willing to give up his soul for you. And he got his ‘cos he wanted it, not like some people I could mention. Now you’re going to give up on him? What would Buffy say? Shall I call her and ask?” She stared at him accusingly then spun back to the desk heading for the phone. “In fact I’ll just do that.”

Angel could move pretty fast when he had a mind to, and her hand was still reaching for the phone when he caught her wrist, not hard but firmly enough to stop her going any further.

“Willow, don’t. Don’t call her.”

She ignored him and stared studiously at her wrist until he released her, jerking away suddenly as if he’d been burned, the memories of the last hand he had laid on her flooding through his mind. Those events had not been discussed, in the same way as Angelus’ crimes in Sunnydale had rarely been mentioned in front of him. But Angel knew that if he could see Willow’s eyes at this moment, they would contain the same look of bitter fear Giles’ showed each time they met. He shuffled backward putting more distance between them, removing himself from her personal space.

Unmoving, Willow tried to pull herself together, for her as well as him, the contact had brought back unwelcome memories and she briefly wondered how Buffy could have touched him again after Angelus had hurt her so badly. But this wasn’t Angelus, it was Angel, and she should treat him as such, and…she was still entitled to be mad at him. With a deep breath, she turned back round to confront the figure that had tortured her for days and tried to destroy her mind.

“Give me a darn good reason not to.”

Angel raised his head slightly, and stared at her through his lashes and she was struck again by just how beautiful he was, maybe she could understand Buffy’s motivations after all.

“It’s Cordelia. I love her and she’s…unhappy, about Will - Spike being here.” An interesting slip, Willow thought. Angelus might be gone but he’s not so deeply buried, she was sure Angel wouldn’t refer to his murderous Childe as Will.

“And you thought that if you stopped looking for him he might disappear and never come back.”

Angel’s shoulders dropped like a child caught stealing cookies from the jar, and his answer was so quiet Willow had to strain her ears to hear him.

“I just thought it would be easier.”

She sank into the chair and sighed, her fear and anger at the vampire changing to sympathy. He tried so hard to get by in the human world, but she suspected that even Liam had been a disaster at relationships.

“I don’t think it’s supposed to be easy, Angel.” There was a beat then she heard him sigh in acknowledgement of the truth.

“You find the map; I’ll get Wesley. We can get there in an hour if we move fast.”

Four days later and the only progress they had made was in finding a way of checking whether Spike still had his soul. Lorne had put Wesley in touch with a warlock, and for a hefty fee the man had produced a powder which, when thrown over the subject would make them momentarily glow blue if a soul was present. Angel had wanted them to check its efficacy on him, but Wesley had argued that there wasn’t enough to risk wasting any on pointless rehearsals. All they had to do now was find the vampire in question and their hunt was following the same fruitless pattern as before.

Apart from that breakthrough it had been a quiet few days, Cordelia still hadn’t had another vision, and Angel was privately starting to worry that his link to the Powers may have been broken by her perceived treachery. He was torn between concern for his own role as champion and relief that Cordy would no longer die. And therein lay the rub. How could he be champion and still give Cordelia the love she deserved, he may have his soul back now but with the happiness clause…Angel sighed and dropped his head into his hands. He felt like he’d been chasing the same thought for years and it wasn’t getting any easier.

Wesley looked up at the sound. They had been banished from the office while Willow performed her spell and were sitting at the reception desk, he reading a newspaper and Angel brooding. He felt a pang of sympathy towards his old boss; he had a good idea what had elicited the sigh, having noticed the tension between Cordelia and Angel growing since he had got back. It was that damn clause, when the current crisis was over Wesley determined to resume the search he had been quietly pursuing for the previous couple of years. To find some sort of mystical super glue, some way of anchoring Angel’s soul so firmly in place they would never have to worry about Angelus again.

“Got him!”

The office door was flung open and Willow bounced out, the city map clutched excitedly in her hand. “And you’ll never, ever guess where he is.”

She was met by two tired cynical looks and shrugged them off. “Go on, guess.”

“Willow, I don’t think we have time for such childish…”

She pouted when they refused to join in her game. “No fun.” Angel glared at her and she relented. “Okay, okay. He’s at your house. I bet you never revoked the invitation did you and hey, still daylight, so he’s not going anywhere.”

Her words fell into empty space as human and vampire vanished, heading for the underground garage and Wesley’s car. Job done, Willow returned to the office to call Buffy and let her know she would soon be home. Sunnydale would be a rest cure when compared to things in LA.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was dark and blissfully quiet in the corner he had found. And it was probably foolish running here but it was the last place he remembered feeling safe, and warm and not hungry. And maybe they wouldn’t find him, if he hid well enough, closed his eyes tightly enough, they might go away. All those people, all talking to him, all needing him. A quiet moan escaped as the pain started again and he beat at his head with his fists, it hurt more than the chip and he couldn’t make it stop. Even when he did as they asked they still wanted more, until he’d had no more to give.

A man, running, heartbeat frenetically fast from fear and unaccustomed exercise, his blood sweet with terror crying out to be ravaged. Dark street, vampires, three, - two female, one male, - a hunting pack, not easy to take down but not impossible, if he had the strength, which he didn’t any longer. Run, his mind screamed but to whom, the hunters or the prey. Blood, blood pumping, hot, coursing through its veins, calling to him, making him…hunger.

As his blood lust consumed him, Spike bit into his own arm, sucking greedily at the sluggish trickle that the wound produced. Somewhere in his mind he knew that this was no answer, would not keep him functioning much longer, and lessons Angelus had taught him years ago about starvation, and how it wouldn’t kill but did terrible damage to a vampire’s brain came back to him. He had to feed, he could smell it still, close, so close, the heart beating, the blood, blood, blood…

*~*~*~*~*~*

“He’s in there I can feel him.”

“Which is exactly why you are staying here and I am going in. You may have forgotten Angel but I haven’t, the last time you two were together he ran away.” Wesley was determined in this and the vampire could tell, stepping away from the door he couldn’t pass through until Wesley invited him in.

The apartment was dark and smelled slightly stale, it had been at least a week since he’d been home, there being far too much to do at the hotel to bother. He glanced back through the door.

“Any idea where he might be, I don’t want to surprise him.”

Angel shrugged. “Try the kitchen, it feels like he’s further away than the bedroom.”

Wesley moved easily through the rooms, neither making undue noise that may scare Spike into running, nor creeping as he really didn’t want to take the vampire by surprise. The kitchen was very dark, the blinds down as they had been when Wesley was playing host to his un-dead guest and he stopped in the doorway. Silence. Maybe Willow had been mistaken or maybe their quarry had escaped them again.

As he turned to leave a figure launched at him from the corner, he was held in vicelike arms and he felt fangs pierce his neck.

“Angel!!”

The blood was being drawn so fast; his heart racing to pump it away and he could see the older vampire at the door pressing against the barrier he was unable to pass.

“Wesley invite me in. For god’s sake, he doesn’t recognise you.”

So fast, so slow, his heart was slowing, and it was like being trapped in jelly, everything muted and sticky and… “Come…in.”

There was no sound, only lips’ moving but it was enough. Wesley fell bonelessly to the floor, unaware of the frantic battle behind him as Angel reduced his delusional Childe to speedy unconsciousness, before turning his attentions to his friend, there was no immediate danger but a transfusion was clearly in order. He punched Cordelia’s number into his cell phone and as he passed on the relevant information and asked her to take Wes to the ER, he poked at Spike with his foot. The other vampire was thin to the point of emaciation, obviously starving; he’d never had the reserves that had kept Angelus alive for all those weeks under the sea.

Call made and a bandage applied to Wesley’s neck, he sat back to wait for Cordelia who had promised to accompany Wesley to the hospital, while he took Spike back to the hotel. There were contradictions layered upon contradictions here and Angel pondered what could have made his Childe attack Wesley. Even starving Angel had never attacked a human with full blood lust when he had his soul, yet if Spike didn’t have his then why was he starving? As Cordelia walked in, Angel stood up with a sigh; it would all have to wait until later, now he just needed to get his Childe safely home.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The ceiling looked familiar in that hauntingly ominous way that has you sweating coldly and praying to wake up. Machines hummed and beeped in the background, and he’d dreamt this so often that in his belly he knew that any moment Angel would be coming through the door to kill him. He lay still, silent, waiting to hear the click that presaged that most traumatic part and when it came he couldn’t prevent the whimper that escaped his throat.

“Wesley? You’re awake. Thank god. You’ve been out forever.”

“C-Cordelia?” He put his hand to his neck, feeling the well healed scar there and sat up, propped on one elbow watching Cordy move around the room, putting down her coffee and clearing a chair, and finally noticing those small differences between this room and the one that haunted his dreams.

“The doctor said that he wants you to stay here tonight but tomorrow, so long as you don’t go all icky, they’ll let you out.” She was settled with her coffee and looking up at him brightly, the shadows under her eyes were almost completely gone and she appeared far more her old self. She seemed… happy. Wesley studied her face with fascination; it was an expression he wasn’t used to seeing since Groo had first been in her life and it looked good on her.

“What?” Cordelia put her hand up to pat her head. “Do I have bad hair because Angel got me out of the shower to come with you and I really didn’t have time…”

He filtered out her voice, as he had done in the first months they had worked together and a small, gentle smile crawled up his face. It was so good to see her like this and they both deserved what little happiness was thrown their way.

“So. How’re you feeling? Getting over the whole being drained by I’m-not-so-evil vampire?”

With a shudder, the physical memory of being drained came back to him and his hand flew to the other side of his neck where it encountered a small bandage. Thankfully, however starved Spike might have been, he’d bitten cleanly and having seen the wounds left by some vampires Wesley could be no more than grateful, his body was starting to resemble a badly stitched patchwork already.

“Wh…” he coughed slightly, wincing as the action dragged on the wound and tried again. “Where’s Angel?”

Glancing up from her portion of take out fries, Cordelia grimaced. “Back at the hotel. He waited until I showed, then took off with Spike.” She poked around in the bag. “I would offer you one but I’ve not eaten for, like, forever, plus they’re gross. I am never going to that place again.”

So wonderfully Cordelia. “And how is Spike?” He tried to keep his voice as neutral as possible, however his body had other ideas and he put his shaking hands firmly on the bed, willing them still. Had it only been last night that he’d dreamed so alluringly of being held in the vampire’s cool seductive embrace, of Spike’s fangs sliding into his neck, not that the image had any Freudian meaning of course. Now, just twenty-four hours later, he knew that reality was very different, far from erotic the experience had been extremely painful and absolutely terrifying.

This time it was the coffee that was getting the patented Cordelia Chase examination. “Angel says he’ll be fine. Apparently you were exactly what he needed, so that’s good, right?” She said, a little distracted by something in her drink she was chasing with one exquisitely manicured nail.

With a rueful laugh, Wesley settled back on the pillows. “Cordelia, I must say I’ve really missed you.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Blue, he had glowed blue. Angel lay on his bed staring at the ceiling and thinking the same thought over and over, and that meant he still had his soul, right? And if Spike still had his soul and he was definitely Angel and not Angelus, what the hell had happened. There was only supposed to be one of them, the prophecies said so, the Powers certainly thought so, to the point of casting Cordelia out. So how could there now be two? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood and padded barefoot over to the door. Spike had slept for a good day and a half, and Angel needed to discuss this with someone. It was too sensitive to speak to Cordelia about, and Wesley had called to say he wasn’t coming in for a couple of days, Angel suspected until Spike was either completely recovered or preferably gone.

Not bothering to knock he opened the door to the room his Childe had claimed and walked in. It was a mess, there was stuff everywhere, the small quantity of clothing they had brought from Wesley’s apartment was strewn across the floor, the quilt kicked into a heap next to the bed, and the whole place reeked of cigarette smoke. That and the wet towels scattered from the bathroom to the table where the cooler lay empty on its side testified that Spike had been awake at least a couple of times since they’d returned.

The vampire in question was doing a good impression of a corpse, face down in the bed his head dropping off the edge, arms and legs spread out like a starfish and naked as the day he’d been born. Set alongside the darkened soft curls on the pillow the sight brought back memories Angel felt he ought to be forgetting for his own sanity if nothing else. In the last few years, he had become extremely proficient at sublimating much of his sexual energy in fighting, but Angelus’ recent excursion had brought much of it bubbling to the surface like rather unpleasant soup.

He shifted one straggling arm and sat down, reaching over to poke Spike in the ribs. It garnered no reaction whatsoever and wasn’t this a game they’d played hundreds of times before. Too tempted not to get sucked in Angel poked again and then leaned over until his mouth was inches from his Childe’s ear and bellowed.

“William!!”

Spike opened one eye, glared up at him and muttered, “Piss off you noisy bastard, I’m asleep.” Then closed it again. No other muscle moved and Angel felt a familiar ire rising in his gut.

He sat casually back against the headboard, and put his feet on the bed then swung them quickly round and shoved Spike of the opposite edge where he landed with a thud and a loud curse. Angel smirked, that move was usually reserved until last, after they’d played for a bit longer so his Childe was probably a bit annoyed right now. He leaned over and looked down expecting to find a pout and a sulk.

Spike met him with a manic grin, grabbed his shirt and yanked him onto the floor, Angel falling with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. That’s against the rules, when Spike’s off the bed he’s supposed to yield was the thought in Angel’s head, but Spike wasn’t playing by the old rules, he’d invented a new one. Anything goes especially and particularly Angel’s tenuous resolve not to get physical with his Childe.

The long cool limbs wrapped around him were too much of a temptation, and Angel squirmed around searching for the perfect position. Got it, Spike was pinned below him and he had easy access to that perfect pouting mouth. Angel took one look and shook his head, now he pouts; sometimes there was no pleasing this one. He leaned down and their lips collided, each as greedy as the other to taste and experience what felt like slightly forbidden fruit. And as Spike arched his body off the floor, melding it to his, Angel ran his hand down his Childe’s silky back bringing it to rest, fingers spread, at the base of his spine.

Spike was too busy discovering interesting fact 101 about this incarnation of his Sire to notice. Angelus rarely kissed and when he did it was in the same possessive ferocious way he used the rest of his childer’s bodies. In contrast, but no less passionately, Angel actively encouraged participation, allowing Spike’s tongue to pursue his back into his mouth. That was enough to elicit a deep moan from them both and Angel writhed slightly as a hand gripped his neck hard and his palate and teeth were explored with enthusiasm. It felt so good, to forget all the problems that had plagued his life in recent weeks and just go with the flow.

When Spike pushed fiercely against him Angel rolled back, lying almost passively as his Childe invaded his mouth and ran his hands over his chest, dragging distractedly at his shirt until it rode up from his trousers. He restricted his movements to gentle caresses, running his fingers through Spike’s tousled curls and stroking a thumb gently along his cheek. Spike shifted his weight slightly, bearing down over Angel and pressing him back into the floor, his hands abandoning his exploration of his Sire’s chest and pulling frantically at his fly.

Sensing the hopeless need behind his Childe’s actions Angel helped, releasing the button and unzipping his light woollen trousers, which were rapidly shucked down and cast aside. His shirt was next, followed by his boxers and only then did Spike calm, staring down at him with eyes still haunted with desperate longing. Angel lay perfectly still under his scrutiny, studying Spike’s face and trying to judge exactly which way this was going to go. No words had been exchanged and he resolved that he would allow his Childe to lead, giving Spike what Angelus had never permitted, complete access to his body.

Not meeting his gaze, Spike knelt beside him in silence, his breathing shallow and rapid, unlike Angel had ever heard from him before. Slowly, tentatively, a hand reached out and gently touched his chest on the exact spot of his un-beating heart, fingertips followed by fingers and completed by a palm, flattened against his skin. Spike cocked his head as if expecting to feel a heartbeat, then frowned slightly and Angel opened his mouth speak, closing it again when a single finger rested on his lips.

The hand moved, still flat and spread, gaining maximum contact with every small motion, an exploration that rapidly became a quest when the other joined it. Roaming across his body, discovering every muscle group and joint, each hollow and curve, slowly building an intense desire in Angel’s body he had never believed possible. When Spike’s mouth joined his hands, he couldn’t suppress a gasp, and shockingly he heard its echo fall from his Childe’s lips ghosting breath over his suddenly too sensitive nipple.

He allowed himself to be turned and rolled, acquiescing to Spike’s unspoken request for total, if temporary, jurisdiction. The search continued across his back and sides, shoulders and legs, painstakingly slow and thorough, his Childe’s hands, mouth and eventually his complete body moving over him, frictionless and smooth, covering him and soothing away the last vestiges of his pain and remorse.

Fingers and mouth ran in tandem down his spine, and Angel arched up into the touch pressing back into Spike’s welcoming hands, crying out with unexpected pleasure as a tongue sought entrance to his body. This ingress had forever been forbidden but Angel was powerless to resist, having surrendered control he was not about to renege when that permission was exploited to its fullest extent. He relaxed entirely allowing himself to simply feel and was rewarded by a skilful mouth which nipped, suckled and probed until his breathing matched that which he had wondered at before.

Waves of pleasure were rushing through him, and his body simultaneously felt numb and hypersensitive, distant and yet so totally centred he was aware of every nerve. He dug his fingers into the rough nap of the carpet, its harsh woollen fibres catching in his nails, and adding to an already overwhelming sensation. Fingers replaced the mouth, breaching him slowly, as gently as any other touch his Childe had offered up, and Angel could hear his breath take on a slightly altered note from the welcome invasion.

Time skewed, each moment lasting for infinitesimal eternities, sensations spiralling rapidly to a single point then whirling outward to take possession of his body, and he began to shake, bone deep and uncontrollably. From somewhere he heard a deep reverberating purr, deliberately toned to match and soothe, and somehow it worked, calming his body on a level he was beyond governing. As he quieted, the questing fingers were withdrawn, leaving him temporarily adrift, in sensory depravation, eyes unseeing, ears plugged against the world, and he was turned again, from front to back, quailing from the loss of total body contact he’d hardly been able to feel.

Careful hands manipulated his limbs, folding his legs gently against his chest, leaving him exposed and surfacing until suddenly, finally, in inevitable consequence of this deliberate leisurely dance, his body was penetrated. His eyes flew open and he reached out, groping for physical support. Spike grasped his hand, twining their fingers and met Angel’s gaze with a slightly quizzical one of his own, his purr continuous and reassuring.

“Ready?”

It was one word that contained a thousand potential meanings and resounded through Angel’s head. Was he ready? It was a little late for second thoughts. He nodded, and smiled when Spike released his legs allowing him to position them as he pleased, then hissed as he started to move with languorous thrusts that further stoked the fire threatening to consume him whole. With unexpectedly expert timing, Angel wrapped his legs around Spike’s waist and pulled him down, wanting to lose himself again in his Childe’s mouth. It was an easy task as their tongues mirrored their bodies, tangling and entwining, stroking and colliding, until Spike retired, resting his forehead against Angel’s as his need to breath overwhelmed his desire to continue the kiss.

As he pulled away, Angel arched toward him with a whimper, having lost the contact he needed to bring him to completion and Spike smiled down at the plaintive cry. “Touch yourself for me. I want to see you.”

Another game, played more considerately by Spike’s rules than by Angelus’, but a familiar anchor in this alien territory nonetheless. And Angel complied, stroking himself gently, building the layers of sensation one over another, watching his Childe who was gazing avidly at him, his breath now coming in panting gasps as he increased the pace and power of his thrusts. When Angel started to keen quietly in the back of his throat, Spike frowned slightly then hooked his arm around the back of Angel’s knee, raising it quickly over his shoulder and slid one hand under his buttocks lifting him and changing the angle of penetration.

With a gasp of surprise Angel bucked, his body bending into an impossible arch then started to meet each thrust with his own, his Childe driving into him faster and deeper. Their eyes locked in as intimate an embrace as their bodies, each witness to the other’s transformation as passion stripped away their human countenance and bared their demon souls. As if that golden gaze were the only further permission his body required Angel keened again, this time his body shuddering and writhing with orgasmic release, dousing his belly and chest with come.

Still quivering, he moaned slightly as his other leg was raised and his Childe pounded into him, chasing his own climax, face a picture of concentration and eyes glazing as he found the rhythm he sought. Angel smiled up at the familiar sight and waited for the sounds he knew accompanied it, sure enough the panting breaths turned to incoherent curses until with a small bitten off sob, Spike jerked spasmodically against him and Angel felt his bowels flood with his Childe’s seed.

With a groan Spike allowed Angel’s legs to drop to the floor and collapsed on top of him, laying motionless for a moment caught up in his post orgasmic high. When the chest he was resting on started shaking Spike looked up with a confused frown only to see Angel, a broad grin on his face, repressing what for all the world looked like laughter.

“And what is so funny?” He was aiming for hurt, but he was too tired and it sounded snarky.

“I’m sorry. It’s not you. Well, actually it is.” That earned Angel a raised eyebrow and enough movement to elicit a gasp as Spike carefully withdrew from his gloriously aching ass.

“I didn’t hear you laughing earlier.” Now the tone was petulant and Angel knew he had better explain quickly or face the consequences. Spike sat up and blinked owlishly around the room, obviously searching for something and Angel reached for his hand, only to have it shaken off as his Childe pounced on his jeans buried under the quilt and located a slightly battered packet of cigarettes in the pocket.

Angel frowned at him quizzically. “I thought you’d given up?” Spike wiped himself with a shirt he’d also rescued and threw it to Angel.

“I have, except outside and in my room. If you don’t like it, leave.” There were seconds left now to explain.

“It wasn’t what we did that made me laugh. It was seeing you; the same as Angelus remembered but through my eyes and it was just strange.”

Spike paused, unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth and lighter poised halfway. “So now I’m strange as well as funny.” The harshness of the statement was tempered by the sparkle in his eyes, and Angel knew he was at least partially forgiven for his faux pas.

“It was weird. With your darker hair and the expression on your face when you come, the noises you made. It was all just the same as if no time had passed at all, yet here we are, virtual strangers, having sex on the carpet.”

“We don’t have to be strangers.” The soft note Angel remembered from the basement was back in Spike’s voice and his eyes had become evasive again.

“Spike, I can’t…” When an interruption looked imminent Angel reacted badly. “No, dammit, this time you will listen to what I have to say.”

Hands held up in surrender Spike sat on the bed and waited, and Angel took a deep breath before continuing.

“I can’t love you. I ‘love’ Buffy. I ‘love’ Cordelia. You; I want, desire. I still feel Angelus’ possessiveness, I own you but I don’t love you.” As he finished speaking Angel dropped his head not wanting to see the pain he had caused with his words. There was silence and he waited it out.

“Good shag though.” It was forced humour; Spike covering for his real feelings but it wasn’t that terrible rage.

“Yep.” Angel grinned and received a smug one in return. “Good sex, great sex. Why didn’t I let you do that years ago?”

Spike rolled his eyes at the ridiculous idea. “Oh, like Angelus would have let me.”

Angel looked inside for the truth of that statement and discovered a rather subdued, almost sheepish demon. They didn’t often communicate consciously Angelus tended to make his presence felt in more subtle ways but it was possible.

As Angel carried on his silent inner conversation Spike sat watching him, wondering what was going on, his Sire had a strange unfocussed look on his face that eventually broke into a smile.

“He says, if he’d known he would have let you.”

You could have knocked him down with a feather. “You…you can talk to him? He’s in there?” His unlit cigarette still dangled from his fingers, forgotten.

Angel grinned again and nodded then frowned, realising something. “You mean you can’t?”

“I never tried, too busy dealing with the dreams and all the other shit and it’s a bit late now, innit.”

The smile that graced Angel’s face was one of the most genuine Spike had ever seen. “No, I don’t think it is.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They walked downstairs together deep in conversation having rediscovered what both had missed so much over their long years apart, the camaraderie and sense of family, the unspoken understanding of being an eternal creature trapped in a briskly changing world. An unfortunate consequence of their preoccupation was a complete failure to notice the reception committee awaiting them in the lobby.

As their feet hit the bottom step a strategically cleared throat attracted their attention - to a Slayer ready to do battle, a vampire hunter with his axe poised, and a selection of cross bows.

“Umm…guys?” Angel knew better than to take another step and put out a restraining hand when he heard a quiet growl next to him.

“Angel?” Cordelia stepped forward a hopeful, quizzical look on her face and Angel thought how adorable she looked with her brow and nose all crinkled up like that.

“Yes?” He said it slowly, perplexed by their sudden change in attitude. When he had brought Spike back and all had witnessed the reaction of the warlock’s powder there had been a general feeling of relief. Why would that have changed, unless…oh. He hadn’t realised they’d been that noisy.

Angel held up his hands and stepped forward slowly, not wanting to do anything that would precipitate violence. “Cordy? I know how this looks but it’s not what you think.” He paused, reviewing the statement. “Actually it is but the thing is…”

Out the corner of his eye, Angel could see Fred moving and he glanced towards her just as she threw something in his face, blinding him temporarily.

“Angel!” The relief in Cordelia’s voice was palpable.

“Why is Cordelia glowing?” When Fred spoke, Angel dashed at his eyes then stared at the radiant woman, frozen in her tracks staring down at herself and, as he went to move, he realised that his own skin was reflecting the same aqua hue.

Gunn lowered his axe in amazement. “Now that’s plain weird, they’re both doing the glowy thing.”

“Angel?” He crossed the lobby towards her and held her gently, the others watching on bemused, as the couple glowed blue for a few more seconds.

“Bet the Watcher would know.” Angel looked up to see Spike, head cocked on one side, glaring at them from the stairs. God this was going to be so difficult, maybe he could get Cordy to understand. Or maybe not, he reflected as a fist hit him hard in the chest.

“How could you?” She pulled out of his arms and glared up at him, all trace of concern gone from her face and replaced with righteous anger and humiliation. “With him. After everything you said. Angel, how could you do that to me?”

She spun away and he could smell her tears as she ran towards the stairs, barging past Spike and nearly knocking him down in her haste to leave the lobby. He tried to follow and got as far as the third step before he was caught.

“Leave her, mate. I think she needs some alone time right now.”

Alone time. Time away from him. Because he had hurt her. With this creature. He could just as easily ripped her still beating heart from her chest and caused her no lesser pain. Angel’s fragile control snapped and Angelus took the opportunity to add his opinion on the matter. He pushed into Spike’s face, purring out all his resentment in one crushing comment.

“And you’d know all about giving women what they want, wouldn’t you boy.”

It was carefully constructed to push as many of his Childe’s buttons as possible and hey, Angel thought when a fist landed in his face driving him back up the stairs, it worked.

The humans scattered, flinging themselves out of the way of the two vampires as the fight ranged around the lobby then back up the stairs to encompass the whole hotel, only mutual concern for Cordelia keeping her room out of bounds. As they vanished upstairs, people appeared from their various hiding places and reconvened in a huddle by the couches looking a little shell-shocked.

“Man when they fight, they do not hold back.”

Fred put a hand on his arm. “Charles, I think maybe we should call Wes. I know he isn’t well and all, but there’s something going on here that we need to understand and it sure isn’t anything that falls into my area of expertise.”

He nodded and she went into the office, leaving him and Faith to guard the door in case the battling vampires put in another appearance, though judging from the sounds coming from the higher levels of the hotel they were safe for the next few minutes. The logical thing to do was to leave them to it and wait outside, but as Faith pointed out, Cordelia was stuck and they owed it to her to stay put.

Thus it was that Wesley entered the hotel twenty minutes later to be greeted by a distraught Fred, an edgy Slayer and a defensive vampire hunter, all still wielding their weapons and casting nervous glances toward the balcony where they could hear and occasionally see the fight continuing.

*~*~*~*~*~*

It was, Spike reflected as he shook the blood from his eyes, one of the best-matched encounters they’d ever had. With the entire building to use he was able to utilise his greater speed and agility, dodging in to plant a blow only when it was relatively safe to do so. When Angel had finally cornered him on the roof, the older vampire’s knowledge of the hotel layout being vastly superior, he had baited his Sire into making mistakes and had managed to escape down the fire escape and back inside at a lower level.

That was not going to be an option much longer, the sun was well up and he’d just been lucky that the shadows had allowed him to use that route. The sewers would soon be the only safe way out, and he was starting to tire, the past week or so catching up with him physically. A fast exit was probably his best option, he could always return at a later date when Angelus…no, Angel, although frankly it was difficult to tell at the moment, had calmed down.

The sewers then, downstairs with enough time to evade the others and get clear. To that end he staged a strategic withdrawal, or to put in other terms, he ran, trusting a sudden burst of speed would put enough distance between them. It was a good plan and would have worked if the pain hadn’t hit the moment he reached the balcony, driving him to his knees with its sudden intensity and immediately throwing him into that dream world he had learned to associate with it.

Through his fugue Spike registered the other vampire join him and he tried to crawl away towards the stairs. With a roar Angel was on him, dragging him to his feet and with one punch drove him back through the rails and flying across the lobby to land in a bloody heap against the reception desk.

Angel followed, eschewing the stairs in favour of the quicker leap to the floor, rolling and regaining his feet immediately. As he went to finish with the killing blow that would send his Childe to hell, he found his way impeded by a Slayer with a stake and a bad attitude.

“Hey, he’s out for the count. You wanna do any more damage; you’ll have to come through me.”

“Actually he’s not.” Wesley was knelt next to Spike watching as the vampire twitched and mumbled incoherently. “I think he’s having one of those flashbacks.”

As the anger drained out of him as suddenly as it had risen, Angel’s human face returned and he staggered slightly, the after effects of the battle rushing through him. Reassured that no further damage was about to occur, Faith stood aside and allowed him to join Wesley on the floor. He leaned in closer using his superior hearing to pick up what Spike was muttering, something about vampires - a hunting pack, two females and one male. Could he be remembering the times he ran with Darla and Dru? It seemed unlikely, there were no names involved, and it sounded more as if he was trying to warn the victim than encourage the vampires.

“It’s not a flashback; it’s a vision.”

Five sets of eyes swivelled towards the stairs where Cordelia was standing, face reddened from tears and her arms wrapped defensively around her body. She came over, studiously avoiding Angel’s eyes and stopped a few paces away staring down at the figure on the floor.

“The visions? How…?” Wesley’s gaze flicked between her and the still shaking vampire.

“It would explain everything, well mostly everything. I must have given him the visions when I was trying to remove his soul and now he has both, the visions and his soul.”

They all looked stunned by the revelation and Wesley took the opportunity to add to it. “This might be a bad time but…” he took a deep breath, “I called the warlock that sold us the powder, to try and find out why you glowed blue, Cordelia, when it was thrown at Angel. He told me, well there’s no easy way of saying this. He said that the whole soul would react, so if two people glowed then somehow they were sharing a soul.”

If the previous information stunned them, this wiped them all out completely. As the others gaped, open-mouthed, Angel sat back with a thump against the desk. He was sharing a soul with Cordelia? It didn’t feel any different, not really. Well maybe, a little. His hold over Angelus was just as secure, but the demon’s thoughts seemed closer to the surface than he remembered, something he had put down to his emotional turmoil. Then there was the whole episode with Spike, would he have done that before, succumbed to the temptation, probably not. He would have been too worried that his soul would have been forfeit, and what did that mean?

A loud groan drew their collective attention back to the vampire that was coming round from his vision, and Wesley helped the now human featured demon to sit up leaning against the desk alongside Angel, his eyes still unfocussed and his face strained.

As his vision cleared, in both senses of the word, Spike could see shocked curious faces surrounding him and he frowned.

“What? Can’t a bloke have a splitting headache in private now?” Maybe it was the chip malfunctioning that was causing the effect; nothing else made any sense.

“You had a vision.”

“Vision? No. Cordelia’s the one who has visions, not me. Someone’s yanking your chain, mate.”

“It was a vision, Spike. You saw someone in danger, some demon or vampire chasing them; you could feel their fear, hear and smell them as they ran.” Cordelia paused as recognition flooded Spike’s face. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

“Yeah. Umm…one human, three vampires. Same as I saw the other night. Same vamps, different human. But there’s not much time - they have her trapped.”

“Did you recognise where they were?” Gunn was already moving, pulling on his jacket and finding his keys. This he understood. Vision equalled kicking ass, no matter who passed on the information. “Angel? You coming with? Three shouldn’t be too hard.”

“They’re a hunting pack. Angelus…Angel, like we used to be. Don’t underestimate them, they’re not fledges.”

“Where?” The role of champion overrode every other concern and Angel was on his feet, catching his coat as Gunn threw it over and checking the pockets for stakes.

Spike was still a little disorientated and it took him a couple of moments to identify what he’d seen. “Umm…they’re in a warehouse, near where I - Marcus…”

“I know it.” Angel shot him a tight smile then turned to Gunn. “Let’s go, I’ll give you directions while you drive.”

*~*~*~*~*~*

They’d put him in the office, ostensibly to sleep off the headache but he suspected, more likely because none of the humans really felt comfortable around him. He could hear them speaking and, if he closed his eyes and concentrated, could make out enough to understand what was being said.

“Would that explain why he attacked you?”

“I believe so. Think about it, Cordelia, he was in the midst of a vision and starving, the two things probably merged in his head. Unable to differentiate between them and driven by bloodlust he attacked. Simple and not all together surprising.”

“Is he gonna do it again. I mean, Cordy used to have visions a lot. If he’s going to attack us every time he has one, then I’m not sure I want to be around when he does.”

“She’s right. What do you reckon, Wes? Should we be worried here?”

“No, I don’t think we have any cause for concern, he certainly didn’t try to attack today. I believe that hunger was the motivating factor behind the attack rather than the vision.”

The Watcher was probably right, Spike surmised. He didn’t recall the attack in detail, just the vision, and the hunger, and then the blood. God it had tasted good, so hot and sweet in his mouth. He would have to make sure he fed well for the next few days or he would be tempted to have another nibble, Wesley was a surprisingly nummy treat.

“And he’s a demon, right. So his head isn’t going to explode or anything?” Fred seemed to be accepting the change in roles fairly well; maybe her fear of him would fade, given enough time.

Spike heard a gentle laugh from Wesley. “No, Fred. His head won’t explode, though I don’t think he’s dealing with them as well as Doyle did. Do you remember, Cordelia?”

“He had headaches, really bad ones, like migraine bad, but they didn’t knock him out like they do Spike. He’s reacting like I was. Hey, could it be the chip? Maybe his brain’s way too fried already.”

“It’s possible I suppose. From what little I know…” There was a sigh. “Anything’s possible. I’ll just have to research the matter and try to decide from there.”

“Anyway, enough about the no-longer-bleached moron. Tell us about Angel? What does the warlock mean that we share a soul now?”

“That’s all he said that the entire soul would glow so if two people were glowing then they were sharing it. As to what it means…I couldn’t even hazard a guess.”

“I bet I could.” Fred’s typically tremulous tones took on a more definite edge. “A soul is energy right. And Cordy, you were trying to force that energy into Angel’s body, to give him the soul you thought you had taken from Spike. But that bit didn’t work, what you both felt then was the visions not a soul. Anyway, you’re pushing like crazy and there’s only one soul in you, so your soul got torn apart and spread out between you, like nuclear fission but on a soul-ular level.”

There was silence as the group digested Fred’s haphazard explanation. It did make perfect sense, in a strange cockeyed way.

“Right. Okay. Angel and I are sharing the same soul, we got that already, but what does it mean?” There was a plaintive note in Cordy’s voice.

“I would suggest it means that you are bound to each other in some way. Probably until one of you dies, then the soul will recombine in the survivor. Wouldn’t you agree, Fred?”

“Oh, absolutely. The two halves would have an undeniable attraction, they would snap back together in a heartbeat.”

“There’s already an ‘undeniable attraction’ guys, but so not going to happen with mister I’m-not-a-eunuch. And what’s with that? He can boink his own family without losing his soul, but not me…or Buffy. That’s some screwed up incestuous thing he’s got going there.”

Their voices got slowly quieter and Spike started to drift off to sleep, turning slightly on the couch so he could catch the hints of Angel’s scent still clinging to the leather.

In the lobby, the conversation between the three women continued their voices hushed and their heads bent together conspiratorially. Wesley sat lost in his own world, searching back through what had been said. Over the years he had given a great deal of thought to Angel’s soul, it seemed to be a sound idea when your day to day survival depended on him retaining it and now he turned the knowledge he had acquired on this new information.

It wasn’t the same soul. Interesting but hardly vital. It seemed to perform the same task, keeping Angelus under wraps where only the truly attentive could spot him. What else? He felt he was missing something critical, something obvious. Think about the way it had happened. From his conversations with Giles, Wesley understood that Willow had returned Angel’s soul the last time, using the same curse the gypsies had used. The same curse. The curse. It clicked in to place. This time there was no curse, ergo no happiness clause, nothing to stop Angel and Cordelia being together, in every sense of the word.

“Cordelia? Could I speak with you for a moment?”

An unearthly scream from the lobby wrenched Spike from sleep, and he was about to fly to the rescue of the team when he realised it was Cordy he was hearing. She was obviously tremendously excited about something; maybe there was a new shoe sale on at the mall. He lay back down, only to change his mind as hunger pangs rumbled in his stomach.

The atmosphere in the lobby bubbled with female excitement when he opened the door but it quickly evaporated when he appeared. The three girls went into a brief huddle, shooting odd looks at him, then disappeared up the stairs leaving him alone with Wesley.

“What’s with them?”

He jerked his head towards their retreating backs as he went to the fridge, hoping Angel had restocked it while he was away. He had, so Spike helped himself to a couple of bags, emptied them into two clean mugs and started the microwave. There was no answer forthcoming from the Watcher, which was curious, then again maybe he did owe him an apology, he always seemed to owe someone an apology these days. It probably wouldn’t be a bad idea to brush up on his apology skills.

“Umm. Sorry about the whole biting thing, mate. You know it wasn’t personal right.”

Wesley looked a little shocked but recovered quickly. “Yes, I err, surmised as much myself. Even so, I would be greatly appreciative if you would refrain from ever doing it again.”

“Doesn’t have to be like that. The bite I mean. Given different circumstances and all.”

The vampire’s words brought the dream back full force, the cool arms, and the slow erotic penetration. Wesley flushed and looked away, but not before he caught a glance of Spike’s eyes over his mug, and the cool fire contained within them had the blood rushing from his face to other parts of his anatomy that had no business whatsoever being involved. The vampire breathed gently, taking in his heavy scent with a sense of glee and flashed a smile at the Watcher; yeah, soul or no soul, he’d still got it.

“So, what was all the squealing about?”

“Squealing?”

“The ladies. What’s going on?”

“Ah. It’s about Angel’s soul.” How on earth was he going to tell Spike this? After everything that had happened, including what he and Angel had been doing this afternoon, with obvious enthusiasm if the reports were anything to go by. The decision was taken out of his hands as Angel and Gunn walked into the lobby with self-satisfied smirks on their faces.

“Successful hunt?”

“Very.” Angel hopped onto a stool next to the desk. “Three vampires dusted and one human rescued, reassured and dropped at home. A good day’s work, I’d say.”

“Watcher here was just about to spill the beans. Lucky you got back when you did; he won’t have to tell it twice.”

Wesley shot a worried glance around their expectant faces. “Umm. Yes. Angel’s soul. Umm.” He stood up. “Talk amongst yourselves for a minute or two. Err, nature calls.”

Eyebrows raised, Gunn watched his sudden departure before standing up himself. “Fascinating as this is I’m going to find Fred. Tell Wes I’ll catch up with him later.”

“She’s upstairs with Faith and Cordelia. You might want to hang on; it looked like they were off for a bit of a girlie chat.”

“I’ll risk it.” He set off up the stairs two at a time, heading for whichever room the vampires had not completely totalled during their fight.

This, of course, left Spike and Angel alone, not a situation that either of them found terribly comfortable. After a couple of minutes of avoided eye contact and awkward silence, Angel thought of trying for an apology, he felt he owed that much at least for attacking Spike earlier. But where to start? Sorry I punched you halfway around the hotel because I haven’t got the self-control of an infant and screwed you where my girlfriend could hear us and got her mad. It sounded pathetic even as he rehearsed it.

Spike watched him in fascination. His thoughts may as well have been printed on his forehead and as Angel went to open his mouth, he got in first.

“Don’t bother.”

“What?”

“Don’t bother apologising. Not for the fight, anyway. And unless you want another one, don’t even try apologising for the shag.”

Panic skated across Angel’s face, he had forgotten just how perceptive Spike could be when it came to knowing what he was thinking. He’d been working with humans too long and it tended to dull his senses.

“Okay. I won’t…but I’m sorry anyway. For hitting you.”

“Apology accepted. Now, if you don’t mind I going to have a fag. There should be enough shadows in the garden by this time to lurk in.”

“Go ahead. I’ll be sure to call if anything interesting happens.”

With a short nod Spike turned on his heel and stalked out leaving Angel sitting alone in the lobby.

And that was where Wesley found him when he got back. He was relieved, in so many ways, he really hadn’t wanted to tell Spike about the conclusions he’d reached, at least until he’d had a chance to speak to Angel.

In turn, Angel was pleased to be alone with Wesley. He’d been doing some thinking on the way to and back from their run in with the vampire pack, there was precious little else to do when you’re hiding under a tarpaulin on the back seat. And he’d come to the conclusion that he needed to explain some things to Cordelia. About him…and Spike, and vampires, and…well, really there was a whole lot of explaining to do and he wanted Wesley’s advice on how to tell his girlfriend that he couldn’t sleep with, that he may occasionally have sex with his Childe, because he could.

Would she understand? Cordy was a broad-minded woman wasn’t she? Finding out Willow had a girlfriend hadn’t bothered her and it wasn’t as if he was gay. And hadn’t she being saying that about him for years, so what was her problem anyway.

“Angel?” He focussed on Wesley who had obviously said his name more than once.

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

Wesley sat down and gave him a soft smile. “I may have some information that will make those thoughts a little happier.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Fred was sat cross-legged on Cordy’s bed, the other two arranged around her. “Are you going to forgive him?”

“Well, duh. A hottie that I can now get into my bed without him waking up wanting eat me. What do you think?” She grinned excitedly at her friends who were smiling indulgently at her.

“You go for it girl. I mean, that guy can kiss. Believe me, I’ve been there and he’s definitely good.” Faith flushed as she realised she’d said too much. “There wasn’t anything else and it was ages ago, it didn’t mean anything.” She smiled apologetically.

There was a knock at the door and Gunn’s voice called. “Fred? You in there?”

“Come on in, Charles.”

The door opened and Gunn poked his head round, smiling when he saw Fred. “Hi, babe. Spike said you were all up here, but I just wanted to let you know we were back safe and sound.”

“Angel too?” Cordelia hopped off the bed and started putting on her shoes. When Gunn nodded she made shooing gestures to drive the others towards the door.

“Out, out. Go downstairs and stay there. I’ll be down in a few.” As they left she called after them, “And don’t say anything to Angel, I want it to be my surprise.”

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

The garden was quiet and peaceful, granted the air was hardly fresh, this was LA after all, but it was pleasant. In another fifteen minutes or so the sun would be set and Spike had no desire to be sociable. During the past few years with his chip he’d become accustomed to spending much of his time alone and he found that the humans’ continuous chatter grated after a while. And there was certainly a lot of chattering going on, it sounded as though everyone was downstairs and, as the volume steadily rose, it occurred to him that there might be something important going on.

Unwilling to go back inside completely, he lurked in the doorway, watching as the whole gang gathered around Angel and Cordelia. Something about the way they were all acting made his insides lurch uneasily and, as the group fractured and Cordelia led Angel away by the hand, he made to step inside, stopping when he saw the look on his Sire’s face. Bemused but perfect happiness suffused Angel’s features as he followed Cordelia up the stairs and at that moment Spike knew that the curse had been lifted. There was no more happiness clause and Angel was free to be with the woman he loved.

His world should have crashed down around his ears. He should have felt the urge to go and get blindingly drunk. Yet strangely he didn’t, instead he slid down the wall, lit another cigarette and thought about it rationally as he smoked.

Okay, Angel was with Cordelia and that was a major negative.

But on his side, he had an undeniable place on the team, as the Seer they couldn’t chuck him out on a whim, so he had a home, a regular supply of blood and Angel’s company. Plus he had a sneaky feeling that Angelus was not as quiet as he used to be, so there was probably a good chance of a regular session with the old man when Cordy wasn’t around. If he could find a way past Angel’s martyr complex and the urge to confess his every sin.

Finally, and in Spike’s mind, most importantly, Cordelia was human. Which meant she would age and die like any other human. He’d waited for Angel for over a hundred years already, another human life span was not so long, the chit would only last another forty or fifty if he was lucky, plus as she got older he would be there to keep his Sire company when he was needed.

He leaned his head back against the wall and looked up into the darkening sky, watching as the infant stars were strangled at birth by the city lights, feeling strangely at peace with the world and within himself. After taking one last drag he threw down his cigarette and ground the butt out under his boot heel.

Yeah, all this meant was that he had more time to put his plan in to action.

And in the meantime? Well, there was a Watcher in there with his name on. If he set off now he could reach Wesley’s apartment before him and be waiting when he got home. Then they could have a nice…chat.

Back in the hotel, Angel and Cordelia disappeared from view and Fred turned to Gunn, smiling beatifically.

“Kye-rumption,” she said with a happy sigh…and none of them heard the side gate close with a quiet clang.

NB - I’ve been asked about the meaning of the word Kye-rumption. Rather than enter into a longwinded explanation at this point I recommend watching or reading the transcript for ‘Offspring’ AtS season 3. If anyone needs URLs please don’t hesitate to mail me.

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