Just William: Part One

DISTRIBUTION: Please ask. I won't bite unless you ask very nicely
SPOILERS: Season 1 Angel, Season 4 BtVS
RATING: NC 17 CONTENT WARNING: m/m slash
RELATIONSHIPS: Angel/Spike and implied Buffy/Riley
FEEDBACK: Yes please even if it's hatemail. Just so I actually GET some mail.
SUMMARY: Buffy's tied the knot with Iowa Boy, and her former beau doesn't quite know how to feel. Spike to the rescue!
DISCLAIMER: I own nothing, not even my mind. I think Joss has that too.
DEDICATION: To Tess De Bont. I will adore you forever, my little Darla.

----------------------- PART ONE ----------------------------
The young man ran a comb one more time through his slicked back blonde hair and stepped into the bar. The first thing that struck him was the sign above the bar; No Staking. No Siring. No Live Feeding.
Yessir, good bar. If you were a vampire.
Which thankfully for Spike he was.
The second thing he noticed was the dejected, half-crumpled figure seated at the bar. as he watched, the man tilted back his head and convulsively threw down another large scotch, shakily pouring the remains of a bottle into the glass. Spike shook his head and swaggered over to the stool beside the shambled man.
"Mind if I sit 'ere mate?"
The harsh, British voice should have struck a chord with Angel immediatly, but he was far too drunk, and merely waved one hand dismissively, getting ready to finish the scotch.
"Mate, it's me. Bloody 'ell you really are gone - you ain't even attacked me yet"
Angel looked up, eyes totally out of focus, and as soon as recognition swam through his foggy brain went to land Spike a left hooker. Easilly, Spike caught the hand half-way and put it gently on the bar;
"Things are different. I'm like you now, 'cept it's a chip in me 'ead not a gypsy curse. A few of the blokes in Sunny'ell are sayin' you've lost it. Thought I'd come see for meself"
"Thought you'd come shee me helplesh.. fihne. See if ahh care"
"Angelus, if you were 'elpless, I wouldn't be sittin' 'ere with you. I'd 'ave stayed in that bloody town an 'ad a good larf over me old Sire"
The bartender came over, brows knitted in concern, and removed the empty bottle;
"He is all right isn't he? Because if he's going to collapse I'd rather he didn't do it in my bar"
"'Ee's fine mate - us'a drink for Galway din't'cha?"
He elbowed Angel in the side slightly: his Sire gave a low groan and pushed Spike away pathetically;
"Okay I admit it, no 'ee's about as far from soddin' fine as y'get. I came to take 'im 'ome"
"Well, take good care of him, it's about time someone did"
The barman waved the empty scotch bottle "that's tonight's second. He's usually in here lately, mainly gets dragged home by a couple of demons he knows but they're working tonight"
Spike nodded to the bartender, then slipped Angel's arm around his shoulders and put his own around the taller man's waist, hoping for a little cooperation in this manouver. Angel seemed to have lost the will to control his legs and was like the world's largest rag doll as Spike staggered with him draped across him to the car outside.
The black Desotto had been as perfect as could be for Drusilla sitting in the passenger seat, but it certainly wasn't big enough for Angel. In fact, the best Spike could do was prop him up and catch him in the seat belt, arms hanging limply, forehead touching his knees. His passenger groaned again as the car started to move, but soon fell quiet. It was a freezing evening, and despite his own discomfort in the matter, Spike opened all the windows in the car. This part of the plan worked, the cold air partially woke Angel up enough to agree with Spike that he was dead drunk, that the best thing was for Spike to put him to bed, and that his Childe hadn't turned up in the city he'd watched over for years for a fight.
Angel barely knew what was happening when they got back, only that Spike made him drink several pints of water before tucking him up. The last thing he could recall was the touch of slightly warmer flesh against his, arms around him and a tiny, nervous kiss on the lips. The rest was welcome blackness.