*****

Spike was almost whistling as he approached the Slayer's dorm. His mission was running incredibly smoothly, better than any plan of his had gone since coming to this cursed town.

The whelp and the watcher had been easy marks, after rooming with the two of them he knew all their insecurities. The pair of them did nothing but whine about how no one appreciated or needed them anymore.

He'd expected Red to be a bit harder, but when her witchy friend turned out to be more than a friend, Spike knew his night was made. All that remained was a little visit to the Slayer.

Spike slowed as he reached the door sensing something almost forgotten. Spike scanned the surrounding area more carefully, finally spotting the slumped form in the shadows below the dorm's cheerily lit windows.

"Angel?" He asked walking past the door to his sire.

"She loves him Will," Angel said brokenly.

"The commando, naw," Spike replied. Now that he was closer he could see blood shining on angel's temple, and smell it. Angel's blood was the only fresh blood he'd had since the bloody Initiative had had its fun with him, it sang to his senses.

"You're looking better since last time," Angel said after a long pause, trying to sound like his normal, stoic, self.

"You know me, I can adapt to anything. You're looking a mite battered thought, mate," Spike said.

Angel managed a small smile, "I wouldn't approve of your adaptations would I?"

Spike grinned outright. "Only cause you've got no sense of fun. I still can't harm your precious mortals," Spike continued more darkly. "So don't worry that you'll be obliged to do me like you did Penn."

"You heard huh?"

"I know it was you and not the Slayer that ended Darla too, but that was different then," Spike continued. "That gypsy curse broke your ties with us. Till I saw you at the school that night Dru and I thought you were destroyed. Even after the curse broke you were still dead in our minds, disturbed Dru something horrible to see you standing there but not to feel you in her head."

"Then I got back from Hell and whatever it was that blocked me from the others of my blood was gone," Angel finished. "I have no idea why."

"But you still killed Penn, even though you could feel the bond that makes him a part of you, you killed him. The first one you ever made a vampire and you killed him," Spike said.

"Sometimes I wish I hadn't. The emptiness where he was doesn't go away. I'd forgotten that. It had been so long since I'd felt any connections to you, I'd forgotten what it was like when one of those connections broke."

"I never liked Penn much anyway," Spike muttered by way of forgiveness, sitting beside Angel.

"You never said how this happened," Spike said gently touching Angel's bloodied forehead. "You and the Slayer have a fight?"

"Some guys dressed as soldiers," Angel answered, watching Spike lick his fingers clean with all the intensity of a small child finishing the last of a particularly coveted sweet.

"Initiative," Spike mumbled around his fingers. "Hope you bashed 'em good."

"Riley Finn was with them," Angel continued. "Unfortunately you got your wish, they'll all be sporting bruises for a good while to come. Buffy wasn't pleased, but we talked," With ever word Angel's muscles tightened. "We straightened things out, even joked a little... then she went back to him."

Spike could smell the fresh blood welling up where Angel's nails had dug into the skin of his palms. Spike captured one tightly clenched fist and brought it to his mouth to lick away the dark rich blood seeping between Angel's fingers.

Angel drew a sharp, surprised breath as Spike's lips touched his skin. Shock caused his fingers to open, and Spike planted a soft kiss against Angel's palm before turning his attention to the torn, bleeding flesh which Spike could feel knitting back together under his ministrations.

Vampires made sense, Spike thought to himself. Licking the wounds caused them to heal faster and in return for this service he received a tasty treat. That's how things worked between vampires, none of this stupidity humans indulged in. They gave charity because it was "right", refrained from certain pleasurable activities because it was "wrong", expected gratitude and loyalty for being made to feel like a poor relation. They were insane and they couldn't even see it. Spike had always know that his love for his black princess was an aberration from his normal, healthy self-interest, but human took such aberration for something good and right.

Spike returned Angel's healed hand to his side and took the other, kissing and licking at the closed fist until it opened, granting him access to the source of Angel's sweet blood.

A tangential thought passed through Spike's mind, comparing his actions to a cat's, leaving him wondering if the demons which gave life to vampires bore some relation to felines. They both expressed anger, annoyance and threat through growls, hisses and snarls and offered comfort or expressed satisfaction with purrs. Like cats vampires were both self-sufficient and self-centered, but not entirely solitary Spike amended finding the last of the blood Angel had spilled dripping down the older vampire's wrist.

Since being implanted with the chip Spike had found himself woefully isolated. Demons and vampires didn't get along, and besides he needed the outlet for violence that demons offered. Other vampires treated him like Typhoid Mary, like his inability to feed might prove contagious. And he couldn't stomach another day of the Slayer and her chums' self-righteous charity, but this momentary truce with Angel was a balm to his loneliness. One Angel needed as badly as he did if Spike were to judge from the fear and longing frozen in Angel's still face. The dark-haired vampire had become still, as only their kind could, after the first few seconds of contact, as if afraid that a single breath could drive Spike away or remind him of the animosity between them.

Spike shifted to kneel facing Angel so that he could reach the older wound to Angel's temple. Angel's dark eyes followed the blond, but in all other ways he remained as motionless as the stone he leaned against.

Spike could taste a feeling of despair and futility in Angel's blood that hadn't been there at Thanksgiving. He wonder if the Slayer could be solely responsible for the change or if there were other contributors to his sire's depression.

Spike steadied himself, gripping Angel's shoulders as he leaned forward to lave the bloody gash on Angel's temple with his tongue. The blood was partially congealed but still sweet in a way that human blood never duplicated.

When the blood was long gone and even the cut which had produced it had been reduced to a faded scar Spike rested his forehead against Angel's. He was loath to relinquish this moment. Spike had a Slayer and her friends to waiting to be tormented, chaos to be spread and a man-made monster with world conquest on it's mind and just maybe a way for Spike to slip his leash all waiting in the wings, but he didn't want to leave. He felt oddly content here with Angel, all the rest could wait.

Still he wasn't Angel. Angel could hold his breath and still every muscle for hours in an effort to hold back time. Spike couldn't maintain silence for more than a minute now that his mouth was unoccupied.

"You really roughed up the Slayer's new lap dog?" Spike asked. "Maybe you aren't a complete poof after all."

Angel's eyes rolled up, trying to meet Spike's without moving his head. Finally Angel's body shook with a reluctant laugh. "I wish I could honestly say I regretted doing it, but it would be a lie."

Spike noted the lightened sky and realized he'd lost his chance to exploit the Slayer's insecurities, he didn't regret it. It occurred to Spike that Angel would never make it back to LA before the dawn.

"I'm not staying with the Slayer's chums anymore," Spike said shyly. "Got a nice crypt over in the cemetery, you could spend the day."

"I'd like that," Angel replied softly.

end