Elsewhere

:{‘What are you up too, you know the restrictions on direct interference.’}:

:{‘Funny you should mention that, if I recall correctly it was your idea to tamper with the Child of Chaos.’}:

:{‘True, but the Chosen One has taken the first step, are you sure keeping the other one alive is such a good idea?’}:

:{‘Don’t be silly, of course it is. He still has a task to perform, if he doesn’t do it then all else has been in vain.’}:

:{‘I don’t like it.’}:

:{‘You’re getting soft Old Wolf’}: she grinned, :{‘I can sense the soft spot you’ve developed for the Child. I also, am fond of him, but I’m warning you...don’t interfere, remember you and the others saddled me with this task and I’ll do it my way. Now go away, I need to concentrate’}: she dismissed the presence next to her and turned her attention back to the glimmering pool of water. A long, slender finger pale as moonlight, broke the surface of the silver liquid. The softly glowing figure perched on the rim of the large bowl-shaped basin and leaned forward as images swirled on the surface.

*****

*****

He was floating. Floating on a sea of pain that took him back to the endless pain he’d endured in hell. It wrapped around and through him, snaking and weaving a cocoon of intense sensation. Sensation that stung and burned worse than his memory of Holy Water, its pure sanctity warring with his darkness when it made contact with his skin; heat like the burn of the sun, intense needles of agony pressing into him ever so slowly.

Everything they did, they had done slowly; dragging out the exquisite torture. It was no longer exquisite. It had long ago surpassed the level of intense pleasure/pain that was his bane as a vampire – hooked on the aphrodisiac, of walking that fine line, as if it were a drug. There was no swirl of excitement when the whip had begun to fall. It had been blessed in Holy Water they told him and he knew it was true as he watched the smoke curl up from the burning welts rising from his torso.

That had been the beginning of endless pain. He now knew what it felt like to be skinned. The taste of laudanum tainted blood made him nauseous but they kept pouring it down his throat. His entire body burned as the skin grew back. Cumming had never been more painful, but they kept milking him until his ejaculate was pure blood. Then they had begun to remove things and he had wanted to go insane. The concept took hold and he closed his eyes on the swirling mixture of reddish fluid mixed with a multitude of drugs keeping him alive.

*****
- 0900 – Los Angeles
*****

In no time Wesley and Gunn were on the road headed toward Sunnydale and the scoobie gang. Both men were silent. Sitting in the leather upholstered interior of Gunn’s old caddy, they were both thinking the same thing. Avoiding the voicing of thought because then they’d have to talk about *it* and neither man really wanted to do that. But they also knew they had to talk about it, they needed to get this out of the way now.

The miles continued to melt away under the steady eighty-five-miles per hour spin of the Cadillac’s white-walled tires. Wesley sighed, turned slightly into the leather seat so he was angled toward the steering wheel. Gunn’s eyes shifted from the rolling asphalt to track the movement.

“Dare either of us voice it?” Wes sighed again.

“You know I’m gonna ask if ya do, man.”

Wesley nodded then turned to lean back into the seat. He tipped his head back against the leather headrest and closed his eyes, took a deep breath, “Wolfram & Hart.”

“Ya *think* so too huh?”

“I didn’t’ want to at first, but now...”

Gunn nodded in understanding then, “Man what the fuck were you thinking?!” he yelled. He’d wanted to ask that question for a while now and he had planned on keeping his cool when he did but hell, Gunn was capitol P.I.S.S.E.D.

“I take it you’re referring to Lilah,” not a question.

For a minute Gunn doesn’t respond. His large hands gripped the steering wheel tightly while he turned his head to look at the man sitting with his head back and eyes closed. There is a noticeable flare to the pale nostrils as Wes tries to keep his breathing even and there were slight tremors in his voice.

“Dude, who the Fuck-else *would* I be referring too?”

“I don’t... I really don’t know Gunn.” Then silence.

Five miles later, “Why man?”

Wesley thought about that for another mile or two, he still didn’t have an answer besides ‘I don’t know’. “Fuck-it-all! I don’t know... I don-fuck it just happened!”

“Like that? ‘It just happened’. Man that is so fucked-up. You go and do some dumb-shit like the nasty with the Wolfram & Hart ho and all you can say is that? Man, I can’t believe you just kicked us to the curb like that.”

“NO, not like *that*,” Wes strained, his voice getting huskier with emotion. He wondered if Gunn was going to break him down to tears. “I can’t explain it Gunn, I can’t because I’m still asking those same questions of myself... those and others.”

“Don’t think the bitch won’t tell him you helped them. I can just hear her now, ‘Gee Angel, I really have to commend you on the loyalty you instill in your friends. Why, if it weren’t for Wes...’,” Gunn trailed off. Wesley had sat up and stared at him.

“Please, don’t ever do that again. My God you sounded almost exactly like her!”

“Dude... don’t make me smack you up. Anyways, Angel’s gonna think you sold him out, man.”

“I know.”

“Ya didn’t did ya?”

“Fuck you Charles,” Wes snapped.

Gunn grinned, “Had ta ask dog, had to ask.”

Forty-five minutes from Sunnydale Wesley opens his eyes to ask, “Should we tell the others?”

Gunn thought about it for a minute, “I don’t know Wes man, I mean, this is like *family* shit, know what I mean?”

“Yes, I do but if we’re going to get Angel back then...”

“Yeah,” Gunn sighed, ‘I’m knowin’, isn’t that our exit?”

*****

*****

Spike looked around the room taking in the faces of those gathered. They had been going at it non-stop since the guys from the L.A. team had arrived.

The first thing they’d done was to gather together in Giles’ crowded living room for a moment of silence in respect to the departed seer. Of course Spike thought it was a waste of time since ‘vision-girl was still around driving him bonkers’ as he put it. Willow gave him a long glowering stare and the vampire decided to just shut up and join the circle of hand holders.

It was during the recounting of events over a quick meal in the Watcher’s dining area that Cordelia decided there was something Spike should know. Giles and Wesley were putting their collective knowledge concerning vampire lore on the table, coming clean with all the minor little details they’d failed to reveal before. They weren’t really all that surprised to discover the others already knew about the Sire/Childe link existing and should have really been embarrassed with having overlooked the amount of research Giles was fond of forcing on the gang. It was bound to happen that at some point there would be some bit of information that would catch their attention, get them digging deeper as doors were opened for them. The only person in the room who hadn’t snuck and read the librarian’s personal Watcher journals was Buffy. No one was really surprised by that either since Buffy wasn’t all that big on doing the actual research, she felt justified in leaving the menial task to the other slayerettes because she was, after all, The Slayer right?

Spike wasn’t paying attention to the exchange going on, being a vampire he already knew and would forget more than they could ever imagine. Spike’s attention was focused on his own personal hell in the form of Cordelia Chase and this time she was dragging him through the San Francisco Centre’. It may not have been the Beverly Center in Los Angeles, she told him vapidly, but there were enough well known boutiques and stores in the multi-level building to hold some interest.

Cordelia seemed irritated as she dragged Spike through the mall, mentally kicking and howling, until she found what she was looking for. Of course it would have to be another video monitor featuring the stunning young vision as the spokes-model for the new MAC make-up line being released right after the post-Thanksgiving sales, and just in time for the Christmas shopping season less than a month away.

Riveted, Spike stopped ranting and settled down to watch whatever was Cordelia had dragged him there to see. Ignoring the strange pull he felt someplace deep inside Spike witnessed the maneuvering behind Angel’s disappearance. She showed him the developing intimacy between the ex-Watcher and the black-hearted, double-crossing lawyer.

:{‘That Wolfram & Hart bitch,’}: Spike snarled. Cordelia flinched and started to edge away from the vampire out of sheer reflex when she remembered that she, the Great and Beautiful Cordelia Chase, had become a Higher Being. Cordelia glared at the blonde vampire next to her.

:{‘Wot now?’}:

:{‘Watch it fang-boy, you’re on my territory now, if you’re not nice... I might decide to just leave you here by your lonesome; or I might just keep you here with *me*. Hmmm, that might be nice. No, maybe I’ll just dust you. I could you know, with a thought too, isn’t that neat?’}: Cordelia smiled and batted her eyelashes at him coyly.

:{‘Ur-um right, sorry Cordy.’}:

:{‘That’s better now hush and watch.’}: she told him, directing his attention back to the images on the monitor.

They could see Lilah following Wesley to the Blood-bank that supplied Angel’s blood. Twenty-four hours later Wolfram & Hart owned the establishment, their cliental was pared down to one revenue generating account, Angel Investigations. The quality of the blood became better as well, and it needed to be considering the amount of Ludlum it was laced with.

Cordelia shocked herself when her pale hand shot out just the slightest bit faster than Spike was able to move; snagged a handful of his black t-shirt and jerked him back to the cushioned bench beside her. Spike’s eyes were a bit wild when she snapped,

:{‘I told you to be still and watch.’}: ~Nice recover there Cordy-girl~ the spirit thought to herself smugly. She didn’t question how she was able to do what she was doing, showing Spike the past; she’d never had visions of the past when she had them. She just did what she had to do.

The two continued to watch the events unfold as an unsuspecting Wesley went to collect the weekly supply and deliver it to the Hyperion on his way home. Lilah waiting for Wesley at his apartment and in his bed naked, while Angel stops in the hotel kitchen for a quick snack before heading out to meet up with Gunn to discuss the actual *paying* case they landed.

Gunn checking the time because Angel hasn’t shown up and it’s not like him to be a whole hour late without calling even if he does hate the cell-phone they make him carry. Wesley and Lilah locked in a sweat-coated tangle of limbs as they reach orgasm, and a small group of black clad figures dumped a cold unmoving body into the back of a black van then cruised silently away and out of Los Angeles.

The vision became hazy then as Cordelia brought them back to the present and then began to fade away from Spike’s awareness. He caught one clear glimpse of the famous shopping conglomeration from the outside as the van zipped past and the tug became a jerk.

Spike jerked upright at the table startling everyone.

“*Jerk* much bleach-boy?” Xander snorted in an attempt to cover his reaction to Spike’s sudden movements next to him, much emphasis on the jerk. Spike’s head snapped around, the hot retort he was about to deliver to the slayerette died in his throat. Spike just sat for a minute staring at Xander. His cool gaze flickered over the tense form before tracking the nervous swipe of Xander’s tongue across his bottom lip.

Xander gave the vampire one of his goofy, lopsided grins. Spike was about to sneer when something assaulted his senses. An energizing sensation uncurled throughout his cold body, leaving behind hints of ozone, earthy cinnamon and something slightly musky. The feel-goods vanished when the next scent hit the vampire, turning his head toward the two men across the table.

Wesley and Gunn became instantly alert when the vampire started scenting the air in their direction. Spike snarled deep in his chest and Xander tumbled out of his chair in his effort to put distance between them.

“Sp-spike?” Giles ventured, trying to maintain the semblance of calm. They were all very much aware of the fact that the vampire was no-longer crippled by the chip and each of them had been spending a great deal of time trying to re-justify their individual and group injustices against Spike when he had been at their mercy. At some point they could each remember Spike saying, “Just wait until I get this damn chip out.”

The Watcher spared a quick look at Xander who didn’t seem to be looking so distant at the moment, but then he noticed how focused on the snarling vamp the younger man had become.

“So Wes mate, just when were ya plannin’ on tellin’ me and the scoobies here about the Wolfram & Hart bitch?” Spike snapped.

“Spike man...” Gunn started then snapped his mouth shut when Spike turned a yellowed gaze on him.

~I could take him I know I could~ Gunn thought.

“It’s not like it seems,” Wes told him.

“Then how *is it*mate?” Spike shot back, sneering at the fear he could sense rolling off the other man.

“Listen Spike we don’t have time for this, you yourself said so. We’re on a tight time-table and what’s important is getting Angel back.”

“Wait. Spike?”

“Yeah pet?” Spike asked without taking his eyes of Wesley.

“Quit calling me that dick-head,” Xander snapped in a fit of pique.

Spike grinned at him taking an inordinate amount of pleasure at that slight flush of anger staining the mortal’s cheeks. His nose twitched again and Spike fought the urge to bury it in the hollow of Xander’s shoulder and neck. The urge to bury his nose and other things on his nummy-treat was balanced and well hidden by the vampire’s open antagonism of the mortal but something was eroding his control and allowing his suppressed urges to rise to the fore with surprising force.

As if sensing Spike’s thoughts and definitely noting the hungry eyes on his neck Xander allowed a smirk to settle on his handsome face. Xander knew enough about vampires and their uninhibited views on sex, had always suspected that there was more to Spike’s attentions but had never allowed himself to act or dwell on the subject. But now something inside him seemed to stir and focus on the subject and Spike in specific, eroding his control and making him careless. “Stop looking at me like I’m lunch. Happy-meal’s on feet and Nummy-treats are not on the menu... today or ever.”

“Spike am I gonna have to hurt you?” Willow asked him crossly and the vampire knew exactly where the ozone was coming from. There was a speculative glint in his eye as he studied the faint crackle of light in the witch’s eyes.

“Would you really pet, and Tara too?” he leered back before looking across the table to lock his cold stare on Wesley.

“Had another little visit from the shopping-bint, showed me some innerest’n’ things too, she did,” he told them while continuing to hold the ex-Watcher with his feral stare. “Showed me how they got ta me Sire, through *his* dick.” Spike snapped.

“I didn’t,”

“Shut up Wes. You’re right. Right now the most important thing is getting Peaches back.”

“What did she show you?” Buffy wanted to know and with a quick look toward Willow, Spike started talking. There was something going on with the witch that bugged him and he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He told them how the evil law firm had gotten to Angel through the blood, admitting the fact that Wes had really been innocent, if stupid, but they’d deal with that after rescuing Angel.

From experience with Cordelia, Gunn and Wes started asking more closed-end questions forcing Spike to recall details he’d thought too minor to mention or just plain irrelevant. The thing that seemed to strike everyone most was the *feeling* Spike had felt during the vision.

“Are you sure that’s every single thing you saw?” Gunn asked again.

“Fuck mate if I tell ya that’s it that’s it innit?” then he stopped. “Um did I mention that the tug turned into a jerk when the van drove past the mall?” the vamp asked sheepishly

“What van Spike?”

“The one I told you they put *Peaches* in *duh*?”

“And the tug turned into a jerk when it drove past the mall you say you were in?” Wesley asked softly, almost to himself.

“Yeah... Does that mean what I think it does? That Angel is in San Francisco?” Spike’s voice betrayed traces of his rising excitement. He scowled around the room, “well does it?”

Covering a smile Giles spoke again, “Yes I think it does. And I also think that you can track Angel through the link.”

“Then we go to San Francisco.”

“San Fran is a big city, I mean he could be anywhere and if Spike’s the only one who can track him then we’re in deep shit,” Xander muttered loud enough to be heard.

“I’ll bet that Lilah person knows where Angel is,” Tara said softly. When everyone was looking at her, she ducked her head then looked up quickly again. “I think she knows because she was the one who followed Wes to the Blood-bank and set the plan in motion.”

“What good does that do us?” Spike wanted to know, “We’re all here, Angel’s someplace in San Francisco and we don’t know where to start looking.

Willow gave him a scathing look then shook her head as if to say, ‘boy, are you stupid’. “If Lilah is behind this then she knows where Angel is.” She looked directly at Wesley. “That’s where we start. We turn every opportunity to our advantage. Wesley is going to pay his friend Lilah a visit”

They got down to series planning.

*****
POV: Angel
*****

He closed his eyes against the remembered pain, squeezed them until his teeth ached, making new pain and he reached for the images that had sustained him. It had been the luminous brown eyes filling his mind that allowed him to hold on. Mocking, knowing eyes, indifferent and distant, yet burning him with the heat of their depths. Depths full of kindness, forgiveness and hidden love.

It had been the image of those intelligent and compassionate eyes that held him through the pain still sending ripples through him, tearing the foundations of his sanity to shreds. How had he not seen? He didn’t know. He didn’t know anything beyond the pain and the eyes that held him, promised not to let him die alone.

Angel had no doubt he was going to die and as much as he yearned toward the promise of mortality so he could do just that, he was terrified. Nothing in his past could have prepared him for the agony and pain of dying as he rode the waves of Cordelia’s final hour alive. Not even one of Darla’s *sessions* when he had been a newly made Childe being instructed by its Sire. The pain of knowing it had been his pain communicated along with the debilitating visions that had killed the woman. It had been Cordelia’s first vision that had broken through his defenses. He didn’t understand why the visions had changed this way, not that he was an expert, but he had never acted on his feelings toward the Seer so Angel didn’t understand the existence of the link between them. Angel had, however Embraced William so the link between the two of them was understandable. And that made it all even worse. Knowing that it had been his sins that killed Cordelia; his link with Spike causing his Childe to share his suffering and driving Angel over the edge.

*****
POV: Xander
*****

Should they have even been surprised that Rupert Giles knew his way around the business end of a color applicator? No, not really. Not when you consider the secrecy the Watchers Council liked to shroud everything in, that and the man’s natural and tightly closeted penchant for drama. Giles took all the teasing in stride as he worked the first bit of magic in their efforts of ‘Reconstructing Spike’, and of course the ‘Big-Bad’ threw a conniption fit over the hair.

Spike argued and yelled threats at the scoobie gang every single step of the way, but it was Xander who shamed the vampire into seeing reason before Spike remembered that he could actually carry out his threats now.

“What’s the problem fangless?” and in a stage-whisper to the room in general, “Oh wait? Can’t call him that anymore huh?” then back to Spike, “anyway, deadboy jr., I just know you’re *Not* afraid of a little hair dye... really Spike, it can’t do any more damage to the ol dead follicles than your Clorox-Ultra over usage. Besides, I thought you wanted to save your Sire...”

“Yeah, yeah *whatever* and it wasn’t Clorox-Ultra.” Spike snapped while struggling to rise from the chair where he sat draped in a pink plastic salon cape and his half his head covered with the darkening gel.

“Go’way, Xan. No teasing the victim, I mean vampire.” Willow told him with shooing motions as Giles attempted to keep the vampire in the chair with one gloved hand and continue squeezing the darkening goo on the platinum waves with the other.

There were many dark curses and mutters when Gunn confiscated his black Doc Martin’s and Willow handed the vampire a brand new pair of Kenneth Cole Classic, black shoes. But Spike took them and the brand new pair of black Calvin Kline jeans – they weren’t Levi’s but he took them anyway, along with the shirt which was the only thing he actually liked. It was a skin-tight, sheer, black t-shirt covered with oriental designs and when he put it on, stretching it across his tight pale abs, chest, back and biceps it looked tattooed on – like one of those ancient Japanese works of Triad art, the kind that’s applied with a ‘V’-shaped, sharp little blade and pots of egg-tempura and takes forever to finish.

The *invisible-tattoo* shirt was tucked into a pair of jeans that fit so snugly and rode low enough on his hips that there was no way Spike could have let them hang sloppily like he did his Levi’s. Wearing those clothes, having his ass and groin cupped – encased – so invitingly, and the way the denim clung to his thighs down to the knee before falling straight to the top of his black shoes had an incredible affect on Spike.

But the article of clothing that held his attention the most was the leather calf-skin – baby-bottom-soft – black bomber. Spike had been lusting after one exactly like it but with funds being tight since he had no source of income or real free time away from the scoobies he just hadn’t gotten around to stealing it yet. He desperately wanted to put that coat on, but not in front of the others. Just thinking about the feel of that butter soft leather sliding along his limbs, caressing his skin through the silky-feeling shirt; coupled with the way the jeans encased the rest of him was starting to leave very little space in the already limited crotch. Spike was thinking he might actually cum in his pants if he put that coat on right then.

It was Gunn who’d come to the vampire’s rescue when it came down to the right look for the new color. “What? A brotha can’t know ‘bout hair?” Gunn asked before shooing everyone out of his way and picking up the styling gel and comb and arranging Spike’s wavy hair to his satisfaction; smooth waves that began at the crown of the head and flowed outward toward the face ears and neck. It lay against his scalp like a shiny-wet cap of that trailed down into sideburns giving Spike the sensual look of a ‘Joe Phillips Boy’ in the flesh.

Xander’s right hand itched mildly at the thought of Spike and the images he’d stumbled across on the internet by accident while playing his ‘helpful but helpless little Xander’ role at a light-night research session. Xander had been running a search on his yahoo home page; clicked the wrong link and wound up at Joe Phillips.com where he discovered the Boys will be boy’s calendars among other things. Xander made many frequent and long return visits of intense study – for research purposes of course.

And of course, there just had to be standard commentary of the definitely un-impressed vamp-age variety, “Fuck-it-all mate! Wot? Now ya’ve gone and turned me into some mixed up pansy version of Angel/Wesley Poof-Dom!”

Wesley looked up from the text he was studying to give Spike a dirty look. “I can do without the slams Spike.” Wes shook his head, “I don’t even know why I bother.”

“Fuck you mate,” Spike hissed over his shoulder at the other man.

Willow frowned and Tara sighed as Spike yet again, turned around on the small stack of boxes the two witches had him standing on. They were making the final adjustments to Spike’s new image.

“Why do you bother? It’s not like you do much good anyway... well that’s not totally true. You must be a passable lay if you’re shagging the Wolfram & Hart bitch...

As tired as he was with the constant bickering between the two men Xander was transfixed by this new and different Spike enough not to let it bug at the moment.

~No he’s William now~

The transformation of youngest fourth of the Scourge of Europe kept intruding on his thoughts as Xander tried to make some semblance of order with the mess in his head. There were strange flashes of Spike in his mind’s eye and Xander was struck by disturbing similarities of perception in how he felt toward Angel and the younger vampire – like the way he thought it was sort of sexy when Spike started brooding and that was something only Angel did.

~Like Sire like Childe~ he mussed and the puzzle shifted into clarity causing his mind to shut down in denial for a minute or two.

~We are not going there~

As if sensing Xander’s thoughts Spike broke off in mid-thought. There was another arousing whiff of cinnamon, earthy musk and ~Is that chocolate?~ and Spike shot a quick glance at the dark haired mortal. Xander just stared at Spike with his weirdly distant eyes but the vampire could sense the change, note the slight tension thrumming through Xander’s limbs hidden under the material of his baggy clothing.

Of course Spike couldn’t know what the new *William* looked like with the being dead and having no reflection thing, but the looks he was getting from his nummy-treat were enough to reassure the vain vamp that the changes hadn’t detracted from his natural vampiric beauty as he fingered his dark-blonde waves.

*****
POV Angel
*****

Was he worthy of them, he wailed into the thick viscous liquid he now swam in. The brown eyes continued to hold him. And Will, his beloved Childe with the soft spot in his heart he guarded so passionately. Angelus had nearly broken his favorite; Angel had made as many mistakes, causing as much pain even if it wasn’t physical. His guilt was compounded – doubled, trebled and quadrupled exponentially when he tried and failed to shield his youngest from his torture. It squeezed his heart when he realized how much Spike loved him as he felt the younger vampire share his agony through the link of Sire/Childe-Embrace. And still, the brown eyes held him, and Angel found it, deep down someplace buried under mountains and layers of trivial obstacles, he found the will to be held. Gave in to the call and intensity of calm distant brown eyes sustaining him through it all, soothing a heart he imagined would resemble a wrinkly, shriveled black raisin when it was finally released, as he was released drowning in chocolate brown depths.

He would die, yet he would live an eternity in this hellish limbo. Forever floating in this chamber of thick red swirls as his life-force was slowly drained away for whatever pleasure his captors fancied.

Angel let his mind rest in the intense eyes that were everyplace he turned. No matter what path his mind had tried for an escape into insanity those eyes had held him.

Angel knew despair as he finally gave up the fight and allowed the eyes to claim him.

*****
POV: Spike
*****

Spike was finally able to escape back into the guestroom to catch a few hours of sleep before the sun set and he would have to set out for San Francisco.

Spike would know the minute he hit the city if his Sire were there. Wesley raced back to L.A. for another round of the horizontal-mambo and send old Lilah scurrying off to check on her investment. Wes thought it was rather nice that Lilah would be accommodating enough to be over-paranoid. She would lead Spike right to Angel. Spike would then contact them and they’d be on the next plane, or whatever was moving fast enough to get them there five minutes before the call. Once they were back together they could plan the rescue. And then all Hell was gonna break loose, and Spike was pretty certain about that. He just had a feeling, like the one about the witch.

In the darkened room, Spike lay on the bed trying to make sense of the strange things he was feeling; he felt weird about the lies and threats he’d been making lately and that was strange in itself. Strange enough to scare the vampire as he lay trying to figure out why he cared about lying to them about it at all, other than the fact that he just didn’t want to deal with the pain and suffering for any longer than absolutely necessary.

Cordelia had been nagging him about it as well, adding to his own internal nagging and *that* made Spike feel worse. They didn’t really know how much time Angel had, and it wasn’t important. What was important was getting Angel back and getting him back 20 minutes before he was ambushed in the first place.

But, Spike thought to himself, if he hadn’t lied, then Giles would have ‘researched’ them to hell and back, wasting all sorts of precious time and leaving the vampire open to further sharing of Angel’s pain if and when the torture should start again.

Too damn bad if it was self-preservation that motivated him, he was a Master Vampire, William the Bloody, the Big-Bad, and Spike refused to suffer the indignity of being reduced to a sniveling *poof* like his souled Sire in front of the scoobies.

Spike also didn’t like the way things had fallen apart in L.A., and was curious about what else had been going on and most of all, why the fuck hadn’t any of the twits bothered to tell him what the hell had been happening! In that one sense Spike was grudgingly appreciative for Cordelia and her dementedly continuous monologue detailing whatever mall she was currently shop-hopping in. It had been her elevated status that allowed her to take the vampire backward in vision-time and show him the string of events which had landed Angel in his recent predicament.

Troubled, Spike turned over on his side and closed his eyes, giving in to the call and intensity of calm distant brown eyes that promised to sustain him, luminous brown eyes filling his mind. Mocking, knowing eyes, indifferent and distant, and burning him with the heat of their depths. Depths full of kindness, forgiveness and hidden love.

*****