Angel swallowed and stood up, coming around the front of the desk. 'Leave us.'

Cordelia looked at Wesley; Wesley returned the look. 'No way.' They weren't going to miss this for the world.

Angel hung his head slightly, seemed to go into himself then said distinctly, 'Stay then' and launched himself towards Spike.

Spike was propelled out into the lobby; they both tumbled over a couch and Angel, straddling Spike, raised his arm for a hard blow. Wesley caught Angel's hand and held it back - fairly ineffectually - until a large drawer, swung at his head by Cordelia, knocked Angel out cold. He slumped off Spike onto the cool marble floor.

The silence and stillness after this attack left the other three stunned for a moment. Wesley recovered first and put a hand out to Spike almost unconsciously. He suddenly realised what he was doing, snatched it back, thought better of this and put it out again. Spike took it and stood shakily to his feet. He looked down at the cigarette in his hand, seemingly amused that it had survived in tact. Cordelia sat heavily on the couch. 'He won't stay out long. What are we going to do?'

Spike looked down at Angel, an unreadable look on his face, then gathered what remained of his dignity and walked back toward the sewer entrance.

Wesley barred his way.

'Move human. I don't have a chip now; I'll drop you where you stand.'

'No, you won't, Spike. I've been following you for six months - Italy, France, Germany, England - everywhere you've been, everyone you've talked to - so I can say, categorically, that you won't hurt me.'

Spike knocked him out cold and continued slowly out of the hotel.

'Spike.'

He stopped at the familiar voice, but didn't turn around.

'Six months?'

Spike turned at that and looked at Angel.

Angel repeated his accusation. 'Six months.'

Spike walked slowly and rather warily back into the lobby, ignoring Wesley who was sitting holding his jaw. Cordelia had retrieved a large stake from her desk and was hovering unhappily between both vampires.

'Why did you take six months, Spike, to think of coming to me?'

Spike laughed disbelievingly. 'I had no money, wanker. You try getting' from soddin' Africa to here, travelling only at night with no pissing money, and see how long it takes you!'

Angel looked annoyed. 'You went to see her - had enough money to get to Devon - not exactly A to B, was it?'

Spike shrugged but said no more.

Wesley climbed slowly to his feet, and Angel seemed to notice him for the first time. 'What happened to you?'

Wesley looked at Spike but said to Angel, 'You fell on me.'

Spike squinted thoughtfully at the man and gave him a tiny nod of thanks. Angel rubbed the side of his head and looked mutinously at Cordelia. Cordelia stood her ground. As if wanting to be anywhere but there, Angel glanced at Spike. 'Drink?'

Spike glanced at the daylight and raised an eyebrow. Angel nodded towards the stairs. 'No, my room.'

Spike was surprised, but as Angel had already turned, assuming he was following, he had little choice but to do just that.

'Angel.' Wesley's voice was curt, but no one missed the deep underlying concern in it.

Angel only gave him a small, reassuring wave of one hand.

Spike stayed in the doorway until Angel actually handed him the glass of whisky. He laughed. 'Bit early, innit?'

Angel shrugged. 'I was about to go to bed. This is evening for me.'

'Uh huh.'

'Well, come in then. Don't hover.'

Spike took the arm of a chair and shrugged off his coat. Angel sank into another chair and tented his hands, resting his lips precisely on their manicured tips.

Spike sipped his drink. 'How ya been, peaches?'

'I should ask you that.'

'I'm good. Glad to be rid of that fucking chip at last.'

Angel stared at him, dumbfounded. 'Spike - your soul! There must be more to it than "I'm good".' If he thought jealously of his own battle - ongoing, never ending, exhausting - he did not show it.

Spike shrugged again. 'Not really. 'S okay. I feel pretty normal - look, I'm even getting fat like you.'

Angel looked at Spike's too lean, toned body and sharp features, and shook his head. 'So, that's it? You regain your soul, and you say you're okay. What about some guilt, Spike?'

'What guilt? Weren't my fault, any of it!'

Angel almost spluttered. 'I doubt Buffy would see it that way!'

Spike looked genuinely puzzled. 'The Slayer? What's she got to do with it?'

'Spike! You tried to rape her!'

'What? When? I bloody didn't.'

Angel stood up. 'She told me. in her bathroom. when she was injured.'

Spike tried to cast his mind back and pursed his lips slightly with the effort of thinking. 'Is that what she said?'

'You attacked her; she tried to say no.'

'But she always said no. That's what we did. She said no; I carried on. then .' He shrugged, unwilling to go further in the present company.

'Spike, that's no excuse. When she said no, you should have.'

Spike's eyes widened theatrically. 'Fuck, mate, I daren't stop . she'd have had me guts for garters if I'd ever actually stopped. So you're saying she's a bit angsty about that.'

'Duh. Yes, Spike.'

'Oh. Well, consider me feeling suitably guilty then.' He sipped his drink complacently. 'Good stuff this.'

Angel sat down again, rather deflated. 'Spike, why did you come here? I thought you needed my help - my counsel.'

'Oh, no. Sorry, mate. I didn't come 'ere at all really - only I saw the bint, and she said you were kinda looking for me, and I wanted to ask you if you knew where Dru was.'

'Drusilla?' Angel couldn't catch up - felt almost dizzy with confusion. 'No, I don't know where she is.'

Spike stood up. 'Oh, well, I'll be on me way then.'

'No! I mean, don't. Not yet. Stay a few days at least. I have a lot of questions . only I can't think of them right now. Please, Spike, stay.'

He stood and put a hand on Spike's arm. Spike looked down but shook it off quickly. 'Okay, few days be good. Beats sleeping in a storm drain. 'Fact, might have a small kip now. Which room?'

Angel waved vaguely at the room adjoining his and opened the internal door between them. Spike followed him through with an amused smirk. 'Bit close, innit? Not scared you might fall victim to temptation in the night?'

Angel turned to look at him. 'That would never happen, Spike. I don't . I can't . I have no feelings like that for you anymore.'

Spike laughed delightedly. 'I meant to stake me, Angel. Sorry, I should 'ave made that a bit clearer.'

Angel turned away, annoyed at himself and Spike for the . nothingness of this momentous reunion. He turned and tried one more time. 'We are the only two souled vampires in the world, Spike. Just us. No one else.'

Spike threw his coat onto the bed and crawled on after it. 'Yeah, pisser, hey?' With that, he spread-eagled himself and shut his eyes. Angel stood watching him for a while, aware Spike knew he was being watched, but whether asleep or not, he did not move or encourage any more interaction. Angel went back to his own room and, leaving the door open between them, undressed and threw his clothes into the laundry basket. He pulled on some sweat pants and climbed into bed feeling. flat. Nothing. From Cordelia's vision of the ensoulment. to this: six months of searching, obsessing, longing, hating - and he was here; he was unscathed; he was . exactly the same.

Angel fell into a light doze, his senses alert for danger from the other room.

He must have been more deeply asleep than he'd planned; for when the scream tore him awake, he was initially too disoriented to realise that it had come from Spike's room.

It was a scream of abject horror; it sent shivers up Angel's spine and made his balls contract automatically in a fearful, fight-or-flight response. He cursed and flung himself through the adjoining door.

A second scream brought him up abruptly by the end of the bed. Wesley and Cordelia crashed in through the door, stakes in hand, panting at the speed of their flight up the stairs.

Angel waved them quiet, and all three looked down at the figure on the bed. The sheets were shredded and lay like long strings of confetti around the huddled body. Gouge marks and tears crisscrossed the mattress, and the headboard was covered in splatters of blood and one or two strands of blond hair. Spike's face was a mask of blood, his fingernails ripped from their beds on some fingers, but he was still deeply, deeply asleep.

He screamed again and began to bite savagely at his own arms.

Angel made to stop him; Wesley interceded. 'No, Angel, this could be like sleepwalking in humans; you shouldn't wake him and bring all this to the surface too suddenly.'

Angel shook him off. 'I don't care.'

He crawled onto the bed and held Spike's head. Spike began to thrash at the contact and screamed once more. Angel had a hard time holding him, and blood began to make his hold slipperier. Suddenly, Cordelia joined him on the bed, avoiding Spike's flying kicks.

'Angel! The chains. Carry him to your bed.'

Angel nodded grimly and swept Spike up in his arms. Spike arched his back as Angel was carrying him and would have fallen, but Wesley took him, too: together they manoeuvred him through the doorframe and onto Angel's bed. Wesley and Cordelia fastened the manacles as Angel pinned him down, and finally satisfied he couldn't hurt any of them or himself, Angel sat up.

They looked around at each other as if in the eye of a storm. The humans realised they were still panting and stopped. Cordelia perched unsteadily on the arm of a chair. 'Why I was sent the vision, but didn't see this?'

Angel pursed his lips and had no answer to this. He wouldn't have gone as far as to say he was pleased by this turn of events, but it was so much better than. nothingness.

Wesley suddenly nodded at Spike, his eyes wide. 'Good God. Look at that.'

Spike was twisting his head from side-to-side rapidly. Nothing odd in this - he was thrashing to some subconscious demons of his own. What shocked them all, was that on each rapid flick of his head, he changed from demon to human, human to demon until the effect was like turning the corners of a child's animated book: the changes blended together until they looked like a seamless flowing of his soul into his demon and back again. At last, Angel could bear it no longer, and looking despairingly at his friends, he swung a hard uppercut to Spike's jaw and sent him into what could pass as a deeper, more restful sleep.

Assured he was out for a while, Angel returned to the end of the bed and sat with his hands dangling uselessly between his thighs. He suddenly seemed to notice he was half naked and got up to fetch a tee shirt. No one spoke as he did this, but when he'd poured them all a drink, he looked at Wesley and said, 'What the hell is happening here, Wesley? It wasn't like that for me. I did this. I mean. I fought my demons awake. Sure, I have, I had, bad dreams, but not like this. I'd never have survived.' He looked at Spike. 'Can you imagine that amount of blood, scenting his soul to every lowlife demon around while he slept?'

'I know. It's amazing he's survived six months.'

'Maybe he's not done this until now.' The men turned to Cordelia. 'Maybe it was being here with you, Angel; it made him feel. I don't know. safe enough to dream?' She trailed off weakly aware she'd made an uncharacteristically thoughtful, albeit slightly girlie, comment.

Surprisingly, Wesley nodded his agreement. 'I think you may be right. There was no evidence of injury in any of the accounts we read, was there? And he was unmarked when he arrived, so maybe that's it. He clearly wasn't getting any answers to any of these questions from the people he asked, so perhaps it's all been bottled up. Being here, seeing you, talking to you, set this all off. After all, you did know him reasonably well, didn't you?'

Angel did not look up and only confirmed rather quietly, 'Yeah, a little. For a while.' He frowned, and then added, 'But I still don't get why he's not like this awake.'

'Well, I'm only guessing here - we have absolutely no research, of course, to back this up, but I would say it's the difference in the way the soul was obtained.'

Angel looked at him thoughtfully. 'I was cursed; he asked for it?'

'Well, I doubt Spike would say he asked for a soul, no. But he wasn't given it to curse him, to punish him. maybe it's different. Maybe they are just different. I mean, we are all different, aren't we. some people good, some people bad; maybe it's the same for you - different sensitivities in the soul.'

`Nah, it's the chip.' Again, both men turned slowly to Cordelia. She bluffed nonchalance, but added quietly, `Angel! Hello! He was practically human when he got that soul.'

Wesley looked annoyed that he had not thought of this. `You're quite right, Cordelia. Thank you for seeing that.' He turned to Angel with a more friendly voice. `He's had a technological soul for years. Goodness - to the extent that he could ... err ... interact with a slayer. I suppose the descent was much easier for him to make.'

`Descent, Wesley?' Angel managed a smile, despite his despair.

Wesley almost did a double take and saw both of them looking at him with amused faces. `Well, no, obviously not, descent, ascent... of course; you are better off with souls, we all are...'

Cordelia ignored his confused rambling, as usual, and interrupted, 'Do you think he'll know in the morning?'

Angel turned around and suddenly began to undo the manacles. 'No, he won't. Fetch a cloth, Cordy. I want to put him back. This is going to take some thinking about.'

Wesley came over to help him. 'I think this is wise, Angel. As I said, there is a huge amount being repressed somewhere in this body, and if it's brought into his conscious mind it may be too much for him to cope with all at once.'

Angel looked at Wesley carefully. He could sense that Wesley was holding something back. He filed this knowledge away to think about later and only answered neutrally, 'He needs ninety years, Wesley.'

'He won't have them, Angel. I'm sorry, but we're going to have to find some way to help him quicker than that, if you don't want to lose another member of your dysfunctional family. Sorry, that was a bit harsh.'

'No, you're right. We are. Were.' Angel looked down. 'And there's the most dysfunctional member, lying right there.'

Angel carried a clean, patched-up Spike back to a freshly made bed and sat by him for the rest of the day. When Spike thrashed, he held him still; when he flung his head toward the wall, Angel put his body in between as a buffer.

Gradually, the fading light woke Spike, as the hunting hour drew near. He sat up slowly, holding his head and groaning, saw Angel and slid back down under the covers. 'Why are you sitting there? Repressed or what, Angel? You ain't been doing anything. funny, 'ave you, while you've been watching me?'

'No, Spike. I've been waiting for you to get up.'

'Oh. Personal alarm clocks in this 'ere hotel. Very cosy. So, we going hunting then? Like the old days? Angelus and his star pupil?'

'How do you feel?'

'Feel? Why? Okay. Head hurts a bit. How do you think that fucking demon got me chip out? It's been worrying me like.' He got out of bed and began to pace around. 'What if 'e tore it out and did a bit of damage? Don't wanna be soddin' brain damaged or nothing. What do you think?'

'Maybe he beamed it out. Anything is possible.'

Spike turned and caught Angel's small smile. 'Wanker. Never took you for an anorak. Well, anyway, I'm off hunting. Come if you want - or do you want me to bring you something back? Nice bit of LA take-away. '

'You can't hunt, Spike; you have a soul.'

'Well, duh, Angel. a soul ain't gonna make me all weepy-fuckin'-no-hunt. That's your problem. I'm pretending to be human - killing and maiming exactly what I like.'

'You've been feeding on murderers and rapists, like I did.'

Spike sat down and scratched his head thoughtfully, looked puzzled at his missing nails for a moment, then shrugged and said, 'And how do you know that?'

'You know how I know. I've had you followed.'

'So that bloke meant it yesterday. 'fore I. 'fore you fell on him. he'd been following me?'

'Yes.'

'Uh huh. So what? Yeah, okay, I'm more choosey who I feed off. but it's just cus they're more fun to eat: they squeal more at the injustice, Angel, it's funny.'

Angel winced. 'You don't have the right to judge these things, Spike.'

Spike got up furiously. 'Don't come all righteous-on-high with me, Angel. They're fuckers with their kindness and their blessings and their "he sees all". He don't see shit - how can 'e? He made me bloody invisible, so that shows how much 'e thinks of me!'

The door warped slightly in its frame at the power of Spike's slam. Angel blinked slowly and sighed. He was. utterly delighted, and could hardly suppress a smile of glee.

Spike knew Angel was following him so, after a while, he slowed down and let his sire catch him up. They walked along together in silence but eventually Angel said, 'Time for a drink first?'

'Not really, but I guess if you're paying.. That'll be a one off: so I'd better take 'vantage of it. Hey, look! A bar for poofs - let's go in there.'

Angel trailed after Spike into the harmless wine bar and sat at the bar hoping his childe wouldn't embarrass him further. He was aware he embarrassed far too easily, but Spike had always taken extreme pleasure in publicly overacting the fuck-up he liked to pretend he was.

He ordered two drinks, paid and carried them over to the booth where Spike was reading a menu. 'Can you believe the prices in here, mate? No wonder I eat for free.'

'About that.'

'What? Join me or shut the fuck up, Angel.'

'What if I bought you human blood?'

'Can you make it wriggle and scream and wet itself when I bite through?'

'Fuck off, Spike.'

'Oh, come on, Angel; are you seriously trying to get me to go back to bags of bleedin' blood? Have you forgotten the feel of skin, puncturing in your mouth? Have you forgotten the tendons and the sinews as they twang apart to slicing? Have you.'

'I'll pay you.'

Spike opened his mouth to laugh but took a drink instead. 'How much?'

'How much would make you stop?'

'Stop all feeding?'

'Other than blood bags, yes.'

'Uh huh. I'll have to think about this.'

'Why?'

'Well. I mean, how's it going to work? How long for? I mean, I'm only here for a day or two. I've got things to do, places to go.'

'For as long as you stay. I can't stop you when you aren't here, but in my city, you don't feed.'

'Accommodation?'

'What?'

'The room, does that stay free?'

'Spike! Of course it does; you're my..'

'Yeah, I know; I'm your bleedin' responsibility. So, free room, that'll alter me rates.'

'Christ, Spike, when did you become so mercenary?'

'When I tried to get back from Africa without any money, Angel. You had the reports; you know what I had to do for money.'

Angel suddenly realised that he may not have been given all the reports Wesley had obtained, and thought back to the feeling he had had in the bedroom that Wesley had been hiding something from him. Spike saw this in his face and reared back a little thoughtfully. 'Oh.'

'Tell me.'

'No bloody way.'

'I'll get them from Wesley.'

'Not if I kill him first, you won't.'

Angel reached across the table and pulled Spike in close to his face. 'You will not hurt my friends. I will make you suffer, Spike, in ways you cannot even imagine if you do that. Remember, I took lessons from the devil for five hundred years. I am the world's living expert on pain.'

'Don't ask him for those accounts then, Angel. Deal?'

'No, there is no deal. I won't ask for them, but that is nothing to do with any deal. You won't hurt them - period. Get it?'

'But you won't ask for them.'

Angel gave up. 'No. I won't ask for them. Okay?' He determined to call on Wesley that night.

'So, money. I want.' Spike took a stab at a figure, watching Angel closely '. a hundred dollars a day.'

Angel spluttered. 'That's more than I pay myself.'

'You pay yourself? Hey, good job. Well, that's what it's going to take.'

'Okay, but I charge for the room and food then. Fifty dollars a day, unlimited blood and the room.'

'Cleaning all done? Clothes and shit?'

'Spike! I don't have servants! Who do you think is going to do that?'

'The bint? She's a girl, ain't she?'

'Okay. cleaning and washing done by Cordelia, but you have to ask her yourself.'

Spike let a small smile slip. 'Yeah. I'd want more than fifty to risk that. Okay. You give me fifty dollars a day - cash; I get free food and a room, and I'll sort me own washing. but I want human food, too, and a minibar.'

'A what?'

'Like you've got. in case I want to entertain like.'

'Fifty dollars, blood, snacks - I assume that's what you meant by human food, not fruit and vegetables? Thought not. So, room, blood, cash, snacks, alcohol. but no entertaining.'

'Hey! What if I meet some fuck-me-easy meat? It's a hotel, innit?'

'No, it's my home, and I don't want you bringing anyone back there.'

'Jees. You never let me have any bloody fun, did you, Angelus? Didn't matter where we were, what we did, I was never allowed to shag in the house.'

'Never call me Angelus, Spike. Is it a deal?'

'How you gonna know whether I feed or not?'

Angel only looked scathingly at him. Spike realised what he'd said. 'Okay, so you'd know. Hey! Maybe I could just hunt and kill and not feed. only joking, Angel, only joking.'

Angel knew he hadn't been and wondered how this was going to work. 'Day time: you stay in the hotel, sleeping. resting. hell, you can even read and improve your mind if you want. Night: you come out with me.'

'Fuck. change the rules when the deal's done, or what! Daytime: I do what I like. in the hotel. but not spied on by you. Night: I'll come with you - if you do what I want sometimes.'

'And that would be what?'

'I don't know. a movie maybe. a drink. hell - you can show me the sights, mate; this is LA.'

'Oh.' This surprised Angel and unnerved him for some reason, but he agreed. Spike agreed, and they shook on the deal. Spike leant back and lit a cigarette.

'Okay, where's me first day's pay then?'

`I'm not paying you in advance to be good. You have to earn it!'

`I'm not being good `til I've been paid.'

`Half first, half when you've...'

Spike couldn't stop his small grin returning. `...when I've been good?'

Angel smiled, too, and leant back, pleased. `Yes, when you've been good.'

There was a pause as they sipped drinks and thought back over the compromises and concessions, the winning and the losing. Angel was about to take another drink when a quiet voice made him look up. `You used to pay me differently, remember?'

Angel paused before he replied, very unwilling to go down this road. `That was for a different kind of good though, wasn't it?'

`Bad good.'

`Yes.'

`Payments were fun though.' Spike twitched up his eyebrow and regarded Angel through lowered lids as he sipped his drink.

`I can't afford those sorts of payments these days. I don't want to afford them.'

`Pity.'

Angel frowned. `Do you really mean that?'

`Hey, Angel, I've lost me chip - not me bloody eyesight.'

Angel sat back abruptly. `You've gained a soul, Spike. You seem to keep forgetting that.'

Spike frowned too. `That supposed to stop me wanting to fuck?'

`Yes.'

`Yes? You're kidding?'

`You are not just demon anymore, Spike; you have a soul. What you do has consequences to you and to others. Like me, I can't just... fuck anymore. It would destroy me and any ... partner. It has to mean more. I would want it to mean more.'

Spike looked slowly around the bar. It surprised him when he looked up that he had been so engrossed with Angel it was as if they had sat there alone. He saw the same thought cross Angel's face. `Look, Angel; look at them. Look at that bloke over there. Do you think he cares about his soul? All he wants to do is take someone home to fuck tonight. Wanna bet I could make him take me?'

`No!'

`Why not? `S nothing. Means nothing. Everything is meaningless, Angel.'

`Don't try that nihilistic shit with me, Spike. Everything is meaningful; we just can't understand it sometimes.' He looked over at the man Spike was eying so thoughtfully. `He may not know it now, but he might regret it one day.'

Spike laughed, but there was very little humour in the sound. `What? Regret me?'

`Yes. Regret you.'

Spike paused. `Ah. We're not talking about him, are we, Angel?'

`No. We're not.'

Spike covered by laughing again, taking a drink, lighting a cigarette and squinting slightly at Angel through the smoke. `So... fifty dollars as far as it goes then? No more interesting payments from you.'

`No. I'm sorry.'

`Never no mind. I'll find other ... outlets easily enough.' He went back to studying the man, sucking in long breaths of tar-laden smoke and letting them slowly out in long streams of white.

Angel fidgeted with his glass. `I can't stop you.'

`What?' Spike reluctantly withdrew his gaze. `Was that a question or a statement, Angel?'

`Err...'

`Were you bowing to the inevitable or asking me not to?'

`You wouldn't do what I wanted anyway.'

`Fifty dollars.'

`What!'

`Another fifty dollars a day, and I'll not skank around while I'm here - in the hotel, or out of it.'

`A hundred dollars?'

`Yep, that's me fee.'

`Done.'

`Done.'

It had not escaped Angel's notice that Spike had gotten back neatly to his original sum.

Spike put his hand out. `Fifty now then.'

Angel handed it over with an annoyed huff. Spike counted it carefully and tucked it in his jeans.

He rose to leave. Angel put a hand on his arm. `Remember, Spike - like the feeding - I will know: I'd smell it on you.'

Spike gave him an impenetrable look. `I've made a deal, Angel. If there's one thing you should remember about me, I always follow through.'

Angel blinked slowly and nodded. `Yes, I do remember. I'm sorry.'

Spike nodded and sauntered over to the bar to begin drinking his pay. With his back to Angel, he allowed a huge grin to illuminate his face. A hundred dollars a day for not doing what he had no intension of doing in LA anyway - what a wuss!

Spike's back to him, Angel also let a grin illuminate his features. A hundred dollars? It was a lot less than he'd been willing to pay to bind Spike to him.

*****
Part 3:

Angel went immediately to Wesley's apartment and knocked hard on the door. Wesley, clearly ready for bed and in pyjama bottoms, opened the door warily. When he saw Angel, he stepped back, surprised. `Angel! Everything all right? Cordelia?'

`No, everything's fine, Wesley.'

They paused and looked at each other. Eventually, Angel was forced to say, `Are you going to invite me in?'

Wesley reared back a little, surprised. `You've been here hundreds of time, Angel; you can come in.'

Angel wished that, just for once, someone would treat him like a human and invite him in out of common courtesy, but he stepped in and watched Wesley retreat to find a robe.

He hovered around the apartment, picking things up and putting them back down. Wesley watched him from the bedroom door for a while, and then said quietly, `I'm not letting you see them, Angel.'

Angel whirled around. `Yes. Yes, you are.'

`I can't imagine what prurient reason you could possibly have for wanting to read of such things, Angel. For his sake, and yours, I won't give them to you.'

`I could make you.'

`Don't threaten me, Angel.'

`I didn't mean it that way.'

`Yes, you did.'

`Sorry.' Angel sat down heavily in a chair and ran his fingers through his hair. `Sorry, Wes.'

Wesley sat down near to him and waited patiently. Angel suddenly said, `I'm paying him not to feed while he's here, Wesley. Can you believe that?'

Wesley looked oddly at Angel. `How much, may I ask?'

Angel looked furtive. `A hundred a day, but that includes other things, too.'

`Ah. Better not mention this to...'

`Oh, God, no!'

`Don't put it through the books then - just my advice.'

`Yes. Good point.'

`Because you do realise that's more than you pay either of us?'

`It's more than I pay myself, Wesley.'

`So much for the soul then?'

`It's there, Wesley; I know it is. But he's not responding..'

`As you'd hoped he would?'

`No. He's not.'

`He didn't when you turned him either.'

`What?'

`Well, he wasn't the most demonic of your family, was he?'

`No, I guess not.'

`So hardly surprising he'd not do the norm - not do what was expected of him.'

`Do you mean he's acting? That what I'm seeing isn't genuine?'

`I think what we saw last night was the genuine reaction, Angel. What you see when he is awake is the desperation of a very troubled soul, trying to find someone to turn to. What I don't understand, is why he is here and not in Sunnydale.'

Angel had found a small thread in the arm of the chair and was engrossed in pulling it free, so could not look at Wesley as he spoke. `No, that's a mystery. You were right about Drusilla though. He asked me where she was.'

Wesley was watching Angel's battle with the thread with acute interest. `I suspect he'll be off in a few days then. Nothing else for him to stay for, is there?'

`No.'

`So... is there anything else...?'

`Show them to me, Wes.'

`No.'

Angel stormed out, slamming the door behind him. Wesley watched him go with a thoughtful expression. He had seen Angel disturbed before; he'd seen him angry. He'd never seen a childish display like that, and it intrigued him.

The next day, he noticed fairly quickly that Spike was under some kind of voluntary house arrest; for he spent all morning either hanging around the office annoying everyone or pacing between the door and the windows, smoking in angry confinement. Eventually, when Angel went out to meet a client, he took the opportunity to corner Spike in the kitchen.

Spike had his feet up on the table, a large mug of blood cooling to one side, and was reading "Hannibal".

Wesley made himself some tea - totally ignored by Spike - and then sat down, facing him. Spike continued to ignore him, but just before Wesley opened his mouth to speak, he said, without putting down his book, `Did you give....'

`No. And I have no intention of doing so either.'

`But... you read them?'

Wesley blinked. `Yes.'

`Uh huh.' Spike turned his page and made no further comment.

In an attempt to lighten the atmosphere, Wesley said in an amused voice. `That's not one of Angel's books. It's on his banned list.'

Spike looked up. `He bans himself books, too?'

Wesley smiled. `No, Cordelia's list of things Angel's not allowed to read.'

Spike laughed. `Nah, I bought it last night with me...' he chuckled again. `...with me pay cheque. First one, like, thought I'd celebrate.'

Wesley didn't point out that Spike had been paid many times, and for many different things on his long trip back from Africa.

`Interesting choice for someone who is wrestling with a newly gained soul, I'd have thought.'

`I'm not wrestling, mate.'

`Spike?'

`What?'

`How well did you know Angel... or rather, Angelus, in the past?'

Spike slowly laid down his book, took some blood, lit a cigarette, and watched Wesley's face for a while. `Why don't you ask Angel this? Hasn't he told you?'

`He hasn't. He hedges around the subject when I ask. I must say, I get the impression that you met each other a number of times... possibly even travelled together in Europe: am I right?'

`Met each other a few times?'

`Well, I know he sired you. I know you stayed with him and Darla for a while in England after that. Occasionally, your name crops up in accounts of him in France and Italy. You certainly met around the time he was ensouled, and then again in China when he renounced feeding altogether. That much Giles and I have put together from Watchers' diaries, local accounts and general demonology... but I just feel I'm missing something.'

`Uh huh, and why would that be?'

`Well, Angel dispatched me to find you and follow you as soon as Cordelia had her vision. He's invested ... God knows how much already in this. You are here, and he's ... well. suffice to say, the last three members of your illustrious family who visited him here, he either staked, burnt, or generally tried to dispatch to hell.'

Spike smiled. `But I have a soul, Wesley. Don't forget that.'

`Well, yes. Exactly. Angel does, and now you do, and I'm wondering if that is the only connection between you, or is there more?'

`I knew Angelus very well.'

Wesley leant forward, intrigued. `Ah. I thought so. And when was this?'

`From the day he sired me, until the day he left in Romania nearly nineteen years later, we were never really apart.'

Wesley choked on his tea. `You must be mistaken, Spike.'

Spike picked up his book with a slight shrug. `Yeah, maybe I am. Feels like I must be, sometimes.'

Angel suddenly came into the kitchen, and neither of the two occupants could tell by his expression how much of the preceding conversation he had overheard. He batted at Spike's feet as he passed, sending them to the ground, and the naturalness of the gesture, combined with Spike's grudging acceptance of the chastisement, made Wesley wonder if there could be some truth to Spike's assertion. They did occasionally act naturally around each other as if they had a long history behind them.

He coughed nervously, stood up, and excused himself.

Angel sat down. `What were you talking about?'

Spike sighed and laid his book down again. `I thought the deal was - I stay in, but you don't hound me all day.'

Angel looked a little put out. `I'm not hounding you; I'm just making conversation.'

Spike looked up with a conciliatory expression on his face. `Sorry. I'm a bit twitchy: being in all day like this does me head in. He wanted to know how well we knew each other in the past.'

`Oh. And?'

Spike caught his gaze and held it firmly. `I told him I had known you very well for a long time. That's all. Why didn't you tell him?'

`I don't want Wesley ... or Cordelia - anyone in fact - to know about my past life. I've told you; I'm different now. Relationships I have now - which I don't have - have been with .... `

`Humans?'

`No, that's impossible: that would be too good for me - they have to be demons. I was going to say, females.'

Spike slowly turned a page and seemed interested in what he was reading. `Rules me out then.'

`So, you understand what I am saying about giving information to Wesley. Don't.'

`'K. It was all meaningless shit anyway, wasn't it? I hardly remember most of it - a blur of feeding and fucking. I was drunk the whole time, too.'

As if subliminally prompted, Angel thought about needing a drink and got up to pour one, saw Spike's look, and poured him one, too. He handed it over and was about to leave when Spike said, `So why off men, then?'

He sat down again and watched Spike carefully. `You know I was never into men. I was just into....'

`Me?'

`Yes.'

Without looking up, Spike replied, `You either like it, or you don't, Angel. Don't use sophistry with me, mate; I taught you what the word meant.'

`You taught me a lot of things I didn't want to learn, Spike.'

Spike looked up. `You were a fast study though, Angel. Remember how you loved those lessons?'

`I - I can't do this, Spike.'

Spike laughed gleefully. `Yep. Exactly what you used to say then, `til I showed you different.'

Angel slammed his glass down and left. Spike went back to his book.

By lunchtime, Spike was feeling tired, and he drifted up to his allocated room for a sleep. He wondered why everyone watched him leave. He felt stares, hidden glances and heard whispered voices. He ignored it all and assumed it was nervousness about having him there at all. He was less than impressed when, shirtless and peeling off his jeans to take a shower, Angel opened the adjoining door between their rooms.

'Hey, fuck off, Angel. I'm undressing here, and I'm fairly sure you don't wanna watch that now. Used to - don't now.'

Angel turned away but said over his shoulder, 'I'm sleeping as well. That's all. I just wanted you to know.'

'Hmm.' Spike threw him an annoyed look, pointedly wrapped the towel around his waist firmly, and went in for his shower.

When he returned, Angel was lying on his own bed, reading. Spike could see him through the open door between their rooms. He slid between the sheets and picked up his novel again, silence reigning between them; even the turning of the pages seemed incredibly loud.

Angel smiled: he knew he'd hold out longer.

He was right.

'What ya reading?'

'A book.'

'Hah, hah. You used to be funnier, mate. I distinctly remember you being funnier.'

'You were more easily pleased then, Spike.'

'Yeah, in lots of ways.'

Silence once more. When Spike looked out of the corner of his eye, he could see Angel without letting Angel know he was being observed. Angel, Spike noted with amusement, slept in pyjama bottoms - silk, albeit, but still wussy pyjamas.

'What book you reading then?'

'The one I'm holding.'

'Angel!'

'Derry Brabbs: English Country Churches.'

'Fuck. Wish I hadn't asked now.'

'That's why I didn't want to tell you.'

Angel waited for the next question, anticipating it, wondering the best way to answer.

'Is . ya know . that one in there?'

'Yeah, it is.' Sometimes the quiet truth was the only option.

Angel was impressed Spike managed to hold out as long as he did. Two minutes. Two minutes of almost being able to hear the dilemma crashing through his childe's brain.

Sheet wrapped securely around his slim waist, book still in hand, Spike appeared casually in the doorway and watched Angel sitting cross-legged in the bed. Angel decided to help him out of his misery. 'Here.' He tipped the large book forward, tempting Spike with a picture. He climbed onto the bed and pulled the book into his lap. One by one, he turned the pictures until he found it. He tipped his head to one side, studying it.

Angel, watching his childe's eyes, asked carefully, 'Does it look the same?'

'Sort of. It was September when I was there. This was taken in the Spring; look, there are primroses covering the ground. But it's the same, yeah. Nice place to be buried, ain't it?'

'Yes, Spike, it is.'

Angel watched Spike's lowered head and did not push for more. He needed Spike to come to his own epiphany, in his own time.

He picked up Spike's discarded book, slid down onto his back and began to read. Spike glanced at him. 'She'll skin you, catch you reading that.'

'Appropriate then, so I've heard.'

Spike laughed. 'Yeah, guaranteed you'll enjoy it, and way better than this poofy crap, mate.'

Spike surreptitiously made himself comfortable next to Angel and continued to look at the poofy crap.

It grew very quiet in the post-lunchtime slump of the hotel. Spike could hear the old pipes rumbling, the occasional ring of a distant telephone, and once or twice human voices, but a peaceful sense of normality crept over him at being in bed with his sire in the afternoon.

Spike turned to Angel to see if he felt this, too, and huffed in pleased surprise to find that Angel had fallen asleep. Clearly, he felt the effects of the intimacy, too. Spike propped himself up on one elbow, carefully took the fallen book out of Angel's hand and studied his sleeping face. Angel never looked so much like one of his namesakes as when he was asleep. The internal pain that hardened and aged his face when he was awake dissipated in sleep and smoother, younger, softer lines diffused the torment of the soul. This particularly fascinated Spike, for this softened version was the man he had known intimately for nearly twenty years. When Angelus slept, his face had also lost the harsh lines that evil gave it. It sort of depressed Spike that - souled or soulless - Angel seemed to find his peace only in sleep. He took a deep sigh, picked up his own book and made to get out of the bed, but found that Angel was lying on his sheet. He didn't let the dilemma worry him for too long: he lay back down, turned on his side away from Angel and fell into the kind of coma-like sleep, which only those who sleep during the day can know.

Angel woke long before the screaming began, for this time, pressed against Spike's writhing body, the jerky, unnatural movements woke him. Spike was on his hands and knees, his forehead pressed into the mattress and was clawing at the bed, ripping the sheets and moaning in deep distress.

Angel took hold of his wrists to still them, but Spike dashed his arms away and began to thrash, as if imprisoned and trying desperately to escape. Angel pulled him into a tight embrace and, however hard Spike struggled, held him firm. The first scream actually hurt Angel's ears. He bent to Spike and whispered quiet, meaningless words.

Once more Wesley and Cordelia ran into Spike's room, saw the vampires in Angel's bed and came through warily. If they noticed that Spike was naked in Angel's arms, they didn't mention it, but as Wesley sat down on the edge of the bed, he casually covered him with one of Angel's sheets.

Seemingly relieved, Cordelia sat on the arm of a chair and looked questioningly at Angel. Angel, rumpled and edgy from sleep, shook his head at her and made a shushing motion with one finger to his lips. She nodded and just looked at him with concern.

Checking that Spike was still asleep, Angel risked whispering to Wesley, 'I think I know what he is doing.'

Wesley raised one eyebrow with interest.

'He's digging out of his coffin. I'm sure of it.'

Wesley reared back with a human's instinctive horror at this idea, however many times he had heard of it. He looked grimly at Spike. 'Maybe you should let him get out?'

Angel shook his head and only hugged him tighter. 'I'm okay, Wes, Cordy. I can handle this alone. I'll shout if I need you.'

Reluctantly, they left him, but Spike did seem quieter than the previous day and Angel more prepared for the distress.

When they had gone, Angel slid slowly down once more, pulling Spike into a tight spoon against his chest. Spike continued to mumble, speak incoherently and occasionally flail around, but Angel only held him and continued with the soft words.

Angel could not believe that he had awakened - when had sleep overtaken him? It was morning - early, almost pre-light morning, but they had slept for ... over twelve hours. He supposed Spike had slept at last. He did not remember the moment when the struggling and crying had stopped, but it must have happened, for Spike was deeply asleep now, his head on his sire's belly, one arm thrown over his waist in a protective hold.

Angel stifled a groan of pleasure and did not move. He stared at the ceiling, watching shadows give way to streaks of soft, early morning light. Why had he lied to Spike and told him he did not want his body?

Angel closed his eyes to the painful truth that it had been a lie only by omission.

Angel blinked slowly and felt a tear run down from the corner of one eye to the top of his ear. He tracked its slow progress as it tickled across his skin.

The dichotomy of his nature warred within him even more forcibly than usual. His demon gave him simple answers; his soul told him only that he had unanswerable questions.

As usual, he forced his soul to win, extricated himself gently from Spike's tight hold and dressed then went to find answers for the unanswerable.

Wesley answered the door in a sleepy, rumpled, early-morning fug. Dark stubble shadowed his face; he rubbed his eyes and said with some surprise, `Angel!'

`Can I talk with you?'

This time, Wesley gravely asked him in. He looked at Angel's face. `Shall I make tea?' Angel did not reply but began distracted pacing.

Wesley answered himself and went to put the kettle on, leaving his friend some space to gather his thoughts.

When he returned, he sat and watched his tea cooling in the cup and only looked up when Angel suddenly said, `What would you do, Wesley, if you had been given back your soul but you couldn't cope with it?'

Taking a delicate, careful sip of the hot liquid, Wesley said calmly, `I'd go to someone who could help me.' That had been too easy; he'd feared a much more taxing Spike-question.

Angel sat down opposite and stared at him and then said very distinctly, `Or bring him to you.'

Wesley's cup paused on the way to his lips. He mentally rewound the original question then looked frankly back at Angel. `Perhaps you'd better tell me everything, Angel.'

Angel nodded, looked down and said far more hesitantly, `I thought I could watch him and see how he coped - I thought it might ... help me. Spike's never let anything defeat him - he ... crashes through life and I ... I ... wanted him to help me.'

`I see.' Wesley didn't know how to address Angel's strange confession, so decided to concentrate on the simpler issue. `Spike does seem to be coping well - on the surface, anyway. Why are you. disappointed?'

`I'm not. I'm ... confused. He's confusing me. I'm ..'

`I asked Spike about your relationship, Angel. I know you were very good friends - can demons be friendly? I suppose they can. So, I understand; it's only natural you should....'

`We were lovers for nearly twenty years.'

Wesley sat back. He looked at Angel's lowered head. He watched the vampire and the man he knew so well shatter before his eyes like a character from a child's cartoon. He saw the pieces reform and reassemble into someone new: same body, outwardly the same Angel he had always known - but now one with infinitely more intriguing and beguiling depths.

He could see that some response was required.

He felt it was a pivotal moment between continued friendship with this vampire and deep abiding estrangement, all dependent on his response.

He took a deep breath, put his cup down, leant forward slightly and said, `That rather explains the hair gel then.'

Angel jerked back in disbelief; he leant forward opening his mouth to speak; he did a small double take, smiled, tipped his head back and laughed. He looked at Wesley, squarely, continuing to chuckle. Wesley smiled shyly back.

Angel visibly relaxed in his seat. Wesley picked up his tea and, if his hand shook slightly, he covered by running it through his rumpled hair to straighten it. Unconsciously, Angel mirrored the action; the applicability of this, following from Wesley's words, made them both chuckle again.

`I wish I'd told you a long time ago now, Wes.'

`I'm glad you felt you could tell me now, Angel. But ... to be honest, I'm not clear how this plays out with Spike now. It seems to have shifted from a soul issue to.... OH! God! Angel, I'm so sorry; I see now why you wanted to read ... oh. I am sorry.'

They sat in silence, both lost in their own thoughts.'

Finally, Wesley said tentatively, `Can I ... err ... ask you.. Would you answer some questions for me?'

Angel gave a small, almost cheeky grin. `Depends on what they are, Wes!'

Wesley jerked back, shocked. `Be assured, Angel, I would never ask.. Well, I might, if one night I'd had considerably too much to drink, then I might.' He smiled shyly at Angel once more.

Angel laughed quietly. `Given the same circumstances, Wes, one night when I've had too much to drink, I might tell you.'

Wesley blinked and looked pleased, but then resumed. `No, what I wanted to ask - and I think I know the answer to this already really - is when did your relationship end?' He impressed himself by how calmly he said that word, given all the implications that were crashing around in his head at Angel's declaration. Lovers. Good grief. or rather. fuck! It deserved a `fuck', so he said it in his head again and liked the effect.

Angel nodded. `China, of course. It was the first time Spike found out... ` The feel of silk, the smell of burning and the screaming came back into his mind. Every time he thought about that last confrontation with his lover, there was silk, wood smoke, and fear.

`Your soul? He discovered you had a soul.'

`Yes. Darla told him.'

Wesley looked fondly at Angel's lowered head. The contrast was incredible. His quiet words - the agony they clearly represented. A new respect for the vampire washed over him. Wesley had assumed Angel's pain and guilt were relatively simple to explain; he'd had no idea of these other issues that Angel had carried in his heart for so many years. He was humbled that Angel should speak of them now and with him.

`He couldn't accept it?'

Angel finally looked up, took a very human breath and said, `I had changed beyond all recognition - in his eyes.' He pursed his lips. `Physically, for one thing: I'd been feeding off rats, living in sewers... I was... ` He ran his hands through his hair once more and glanced down at his cashmere sweater with a rueful laugh. `I was different. I cleaned up easily enough though; I tried. I hunted with him; I fed with him - but only on the evil I saw all around me.'

Wesley nodded. `And he couldn't accept that change.'

`He was ... is a demon, Wesley; we're unchanging - or should be. No, he couldn't, wouldn't accept it.'

`Did you ... err ... continue your relationship during this time.'

Angel stood up and began to pace again. `That's exactly it, Wes. That's why I came here, I guess, to tell you... get your advice.' He sat down again, but quickly stood up once more, his body's agitation making him unable to speak unless moving. `I tried. I really tried, but I wanted .. Fuck, this isn't easy.'

Wisely, Wesley sat quietly, pretending to enjoy his now stone-cold tea.

`I wanted more, Wesley. He was still fucking around as usual, doing whatever he wanted, crashing through his unlife as he always did, and I trailed after him like a love-sick, fucking puppy dog, wanting his approval, wanting his ... love! I wanted him - a demon - to love me like a human. And he couldn't.'

`Or wouldn't.'

`What?'

`He loved Drusilla well enough. Better than most humans love.'

`Yeah. Wouldn't. He was punishing me, I think, for leaving him.'

`So all this money you've invested in bringing him here - including the hundred dollars a day, which, by the way, I think Cordelia is on the scent of and you may want to cover better - was all to see if his soul had made him...'

`Want me, yeah.' Angel finally flung himself back into the chair as if he would never move from it again.

`And he's shown no inclination that he does?'

`On the contrary, Wesley, he'd fuck me sooner than stake me - but that's all. He's not changed at all. The soul's made no difference at all, and I'm still ... left with nothing.'

`Hmm.'

`Hmm? Is that all? I could have gone "hmm" back in my own bed. I need more than "hmm".'

`Angel, I am flattered and pleased by your confidence, but - I must say - a little puzzled, too. I'm hardly the expert at successful relationships, am I? Maybe C..'

`NO! NO! Jees, Wes, even Angelus wasn't that much of a masochist.'

`You underestimate her, Angel. Where you are concerned she's....'

`No. Please.'

Wesley nodded, understanding Angel's reluctance, even if he didn't share his doubts, but even more gratitude for the confidence Angel was placing in him flared up in his heart. He got up to refresh his tea and, as he passed, gave Angel's shoulder a small squeeze. Casually, as if it were of no great import, he said, `I don't think things are too complicated, Angel.'

Angel followed him into the kitchen. `How do you work that out? They seem so to me.'

`Well, you're too deep in it, I suppose.'

Angel leant on a counter and folded his arms, watching Wesley carefully. Aware of the scrutiny, Wesley continued, `You brought him here to see if he was changed - we all assumed that it was just a soul/no soul issue; I see now that it wasn't. But nothing else has really changed. I believe the soul has made a profound difference to him - but he's repressing the changes.' He turned and looked at Angel, sipping his tea. `If we can unlock the repression, set free his ... demons, so to speak, I think you will see the changed vampire you wanted.'

Angel opened his mouth to speak; Wesley interrupted. `Then you'll have to face the same uncertainty as the rest of us, Angel. You'll have a more level playing field - both with souls, meeting as equals, new century, new rules - but he still may not want more from you, and you may just have to accept that.'

Angel stared at him. Wesley felt a distinct chill run down his spine. Once more he was reminded of the power of this vampire's emotions and the continual repression Angel practiced. He was surprised and pleased when Angel dropped his head slightly and nodded. `I hadn't thought of that.'

Wesley let a small chuckle creep into his voice. `If I were you, Angel, I wouldn't worry too much about that just yet. Spike's got eyes.'

Angel's head snapped up, and he gave a short, pleased laugh. `Remind me not to go drinking with you any time soon, Wes,' and with that, he left.

*****