*****

Cordelia's POV:

"It's Buffy."

I will always remember those words. Words whispered by my friend, Angel. I learned to loathe that so simple a sentence. When we came home from Pylea Angel was so happy. We were all relieved to be back where we belonged in our own little way. Even me. I wasn't a princess here, but at least they had Vogue and facial scrubs. I remember Angel spotting Willow sitting on one of the couches in the lobby. She didn't have to say a word. Angel knew and understood. I didn't, not until later. Buffy was dead. Gone. I saw the heartache and pain in Angel's eyes. I saw anger too, because he wasn't there to save her - though from the sound of it, I doubt he could have. Willow told us what happened and how Buffy had sacrificed herself. I remember looking at Angel and wondering what he was going to do now.

I worried about him, feared for him, and then he did it - he left. I screamed, fumed about him leaving us again. I even blamed Buffy for what happened. Everyone. I raged at the world and my friends. Angel had deserted me again. Abandoned me to the visions that were slowing killing me. I refused to go out to attempt to find Angel. I refused to talk about him. All month I didn't say his name - not once. Even Wesley and Gunn were angry at him. Poor Fred was lost without him. She never came out of her room and never spoke to anyone. I blamed Buffy for all of this. I blamed Angel.

I was so wrong.

I look over at Wesley driving Angel's Plymouth. It's funny, but I don't think Angel will ever drive this car again. Maybe we should sell it. We're going to need some money soon. Still, I don't think I could part with it. It's a part of Angel; well, it's a part of what Angel used to be.

"We'll be there soon," Wesley comments. I know he's trying to make conversation but I just don't feel like putting the effort in. I look out of the car window as we pass the welcome sign. Welcome to Sunny - Sunnydale. Yeah, right. Welcome to arms in boxes, witches, invisible girls and of course the hundreds upon hundreds of vampires that flock here.

"You sure you know where we're going?" I ask him curiously.

"Yes, Giles has bought that magic shop on main street."

Oh, that place. Where the owners kept getting killed. Not something I would go into. We arrive around 20 minutes later, finally reaching the correct address after Wesley got lost, though he refused to admit it. The place looks to be open, and it seems like Giles has refurbished.

"Are you going to be okay?" Wesley gently put his hand on my arm and squeezes it. I nod, take a deep breath and open the shop door. It seems we have walked into the middle of a heated debate. Willow, Xander and Spike (isn't he the evil guy?) are arguing over some book. Giles and Anya are at the till trying to count the money on the counter.

"Cordelia?" Suddenly, Xander glances over at us, and everyone goes silent.

He comes forward and gives me a big hug. Boy, he acts like we're friends or something. "I thought you said you'd never come back!" It's strange but he seems happy to see me. Everyone starts talking, asking how things have been, what's been happening in LA, how's Angel - still brooding? Xander laughs, but all I feel like doing is crying. Giles seems to notice my distress and he puts on the kettle. Why do the English always think all your problems can be solved with a cup of tea?

When the tea is ready, Giles sits us down and hands out the rich tea biscuits. Strangely, the tea is calming and strong, and I'm beginning to feel a little more confident to tell our story.

"It's Angel," I start, wiping a tear from my eye. "This hasn't been a good year for any of us. Things went badly, but then they picked up. We started working as a team and then Gunn joined us and well... we were beginning to bring in a little money. Then something happened. It was right after Willow came to LA..." I can't talk, I feel choked up.

"Has Angel...?" Willow can't speak the words.

"Angel's alive," Wesley calms their fears immediately.

"What's the old git done then?" Spike laughs.

I stare at him, tears running freely from my eyes. "Angel's blind!" I weep, "and its all my fault!"

Wesley tells them what happened because I can't. Angel stayed in his room for days after Buffy's death. Mainly we just left him to grieve in his own way. Angel was always a loner. So we all let him get on with it. What could we say to him? I had convinced myself he'd get himself back on track, and it would be just like that time he said he'd had an epiphany. 'Angel's strong,' I said, 'he'll be fine. He'll get through it.' I should have paid more attention.

Then one day I went upstairs to find his apartments empty. Angel was gone. His clothes, some books, everything had been cleared out. What was I supposed to think? I thought he had abandoned us again. That he'd gone AWOL because he couldn't stand the grief. I was angry, okay! I wasn't thinking straight. I didn't go looking for him; the worse part is I convinced the others of my convictions too. A month later, I get a vision.

A vision of Angel.

The vision was pretty simple. Angel hanging in chains, a bright light, burning behind my eyes, then I felt pain and agony as if they were being ripped out. I saw me and the rest of the gang looking on and doing nothing to save him. I screamed as Angel burst into dust, and I knew he had committed suicide. He had killed himself because we had failed him. I was desperate to find him after that. I think we searched the whole city. In the end we found him in an abandoned warehouse. The gang killed these strange-looking demons that had kidnapped him from his home and held him prisoner for a month. They were in the process of torturing him again when we finally came to the rescue.

I remember looking at his thin, broken form and blaming myself for everything. If only I hadn't been so stubborn, so childish. When he was freed I held him in my arms. Held him as I wept. Held him as he screamed in the darkness. We didn't know what they had done to him until we brought him back to the Hyperion. The guys carried him in and I dressed his wounds. He begged me to help him. I couldn't decipher what it was that he wanted. I thought he meant he was in pain. He screamed and wept, reaching out blindly for me. Gunn brought him some blood but Angel couldn't find the cup. We all watched with growing horror as Angel tried desperately to reach it. His hands stretching out in vain, and his eyes - Oh god, his eyes!

We all watched the colour of Angel's iris and pupil fade away to nothing. It was amazing to watch. The browns and blacks dissolved until all that was left was white. The spell finally completing its task. I held Angel as he screamed and howled at the world in general. I don't know if it was because he was in pain or that he was afraid. Wesley looked through all the books until he had found an answer. What had happened to Angel was an attempt to save him. The demons we had killed were good guys. I was almost hysterical as Wesley told me.

These demons - the illuminarte - were demons of the soul. They had bound Angel's soul to him to prevent Wolfram and Hart from bringing forth Angelus. They had acted on their own, without the blessing of the Powers that Be. They had secured Angel's soul, but the price had been high. In many cultures it is believed that the eyes are the windows to the soul. These demons held that it was a way for the soul to escape, and so they had closed that door forever. For Angel that meant blindness. They had kept his soul safe but the price had been his sight.

With those words the Sunnydale gang had fallen mute. For the first time there was no quips, or jokes, not even questions - just silence. Even Xander seemed to look sorry. I looked over at Angel's childe, Spike, and the effect was the same. His face was devoid of emotion, silent, betraying nothing of the feeling inside. Did he care for his sire? Or was he secretly celebrating Angel's downfall? "Why did you come here?" Giles asks in the end, getting to the point of our visit.

"We've looked everywhere in LA for an answer. For a way to help return Angel's sight. We can't find one, and you are our last hope. You and Willow." Wesley rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "Still, I don't think there is an answer. I don't know..." Even he looks pessimistic.

~*~*~*~

It was hours before Giles had an answer - it wasn't the one we were looking for. Like everywhere else, there was no hope. No method known could return Angel's sight. The books had said the illuminarte's spell was unbreakable. I sat and cried while Willow comforted me. Even Wesley had to wipe his glasses. We had just found each other; we were working as a team, getting the business off the ground, and now it had all been destroyed. The one who surprised me the most was Spike. After the verdict was made clear, I swear I saw a tear in his eye, but I might have been mistaken.

"Well, what we waiting for then?" Spike asks me suddenly.

"What?" Wesley looks from me to Spike and back again.

"You're going back to LA, aren't you? Well, I'm coming with you."

Excuse me?

Spike's POV:

The journey to LA is long and incredibly boring. Then again, what would one good-looking vampire, an ex-cheerleader and a stuffy Englishman have to discuss? Stupid humans won't even let me play any of my music. I talked them into stopping by my crypt, where I picked up my CD's and a few clothes. It's strange, but I don't regret leaving Sunnydale. I know I should help look after Little Bit, but since Buffy... Since my beautiful Slayer died there is nothing here for me. It's all meaningless. I don't even feel like fighting anymore. Which is *so* not me. I'm the Big Bad remember... Oh bloody hell, I can't even be bothered to put the effort in. I'm just useless, chipped Spike and nothing more.

I'm not entirely sure why I am going to LA either. It's just a feeling deep inside, that I have to go. Angel is my sire, no matter what I tell anyone. I was angry when he left us, and so I changed my story. I told everyone that Drusilla turned me. *Laugh* My poor love couldn't turn a fruit fly. It's not like she doesn't know how, she just forgets to finish it.

So here I am. I haven't a clue what I'm doing. Why I'm going to see my sightless sire. (Hey, that an sibilance! Maybe I could go back to poetry? Hell no!) I don't know how to help him. It's not like I know any magic or anything. I don't know how to look after the blind. Crazy, yes. But blind, hell no.

"What's the poofter been..." nasty look from Cordelia, "err, Angel been doing then, since he went blind?"

"Doing? That's the whole problem - he's not doing anything," says Wesley in a huff.

"It's not his fault! He can't see anything!" Cordelia starts to cry again and Wesley gently pats her knee. I think I see their main problem right here. I'm laying bets that Cordelia will be doing everything for Angel. She's even got that motherly instinct firing off about him. I have to watch what I say because a spiteful Cordelia is a fright to behold. I knew that even before I was chipped.

I keep stum (English slang for silent) the rest of the journey. It's a huge relief when we finally arrive at Angel's new digs. A bloody monolithic hotel called the Hyperion. I just know that his Angelus-ly side must have unconsciously picked out this place. It's so decadent and even feels evil. Inside, Angel Investigations has taken over the front lobby. Looks almost cosy. As soon as I get through the doors, however, Cordelia turns on me.

"Okay, Spike. I don't know why you are so adamant that you can help Angel, but you dare hurt him, and I swear I'll stake you so fast even your dust won't know which way to fly."

"Hey, I said I won't hurt Angel, didn't I? I told you back in Sunnydale that I only came here because I know how to look after afflicted vampires. Take Dru for example - I looked after her for a hundred years." I pat her arm and she instinctively draws away. "You can't do everything for him, luv. He's going to have to learn to take care of himself."

I know I've hit the nail on the head when Cordelia runs off wailing again. No wonder they are having problems with Angel. Even I learned that with Dru, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Who better to deal out cruelty than me? The Big Bad. Oh yeah, I'm back!

"Spike! I need to talk to you." Oh great, now the Watcher is going to lecture me. I roll my eyes and follow him into his office. Yep, I know about Angel working for humans now. The vampire grapevine is a fast service. Also I lurk around the Scooby gang, and boy do they gossip.

"So what do you want, Watcher?" I grin at him and Wesley looks a little nervous. It amazes me how he can work around Angelus, Scourge of Europe, but feels nervous talking to William the Bloody. Pillock!

"There are going to have to be some rules, Spike. I don't like you being here, but it might be for the best, for Angel's sake that is. As you have seen, Cordelia is a little protective around him. It's not healthy and now... well, now things are looking worse," he sighs and sits down in his leather chair. "Do you like Angel?"

"No." What kind of question is that?

"Good. That's best."

"What are you talking about, Watcher?" He's beginning to annoy me; I'd really like to bite him right about now.

"Cordelia and Fred... err... a girl that we brought back from Plyea, have been taking care of Angel - full time. He doesn't do anything for himself. He won't feed, wash, talk. He won't come out of his room. He hasn't moved from the bed in nearly a month. It's not healthy for him. Maybe... Maybe it's best if we..."

"Oh, no you don't." I know what he's saying. The point he's trying to get to. I certainly can't understand why it's upsetting me so much, but I won't let them kill my sire. And I can't do it! It's against the lore and well, I just can't... "You don't just go kill someone because they are blind and certainly not my Sire!"

"I'm thinking of what is best for Angel!" Wesley shouts back.

Yeah right! If he was thinking of Angel then staking him would never have entered his head! Wesley doesn't care about a vampire - he cares about his champion and how to get the job done. Nothing more!

"No, you're thinking what is best for you and your business!" Why on earth am I so upset about this? As soon as the idea or mention of Angel's death comes up, I get defensive. I don't even like Angel. Maybe I just can't stand the thought of someone else dying on me. Another family member gone. "No! You give me two weeks. Just two weeks, and then you can decide what to do with him. There is one condition, however. You keep the Cheerleader, and this Fred away from him." At least Wesley is considering my words. You can almost see it ticking over in his brain.

"Okay, two weeks and then we talk again."

What the hell am I doing? Two weeks! Two weeks to get my brooding, mega-melancholy sire Sire in some sort of state to look after himself. Why should I care? Oh, bloody hell. This is all Buffy's fault. She damn well loved him, and I just can't let that part of her die. I need to find a fag. I'm remembering why I started smoking in the first place - Drusilla was enough to make anyone want to jump off London Bridge. Great, another snag just occurred to me - why the hell would Angel want my help? Most likely he won't even try to listen to me - the Childe who had him tortured with hot pokers. Why do I get myself into these predicaments?

I stomp upstairs to Angel's room - no 217, I believe Wesley said. I quietly open the door and peek inside. Nothing. Totally silent. I think I half expected Angel to pounce at me from some dark corner. I am a little nervous about seeing him. Yes, I know the Big Bad shouldn't be afraid of anything, but this feels strange. Angel is blind. That's something I won't really believe until I see it. I move into the main room, and have a gander around. Not bad, no TV though, kitchen with a fridge is good, then I notice glass doors leading into the bedroom. Before I can enter, a door opens behind me and a young girl walks out.

I hide in the shadows and she doesn't notice me. She's far too concerned with carrying a large basin of water and towel. She's a pretty little thing. Petite, long brown hair, small nose - strange black-rimmed glasses. She certainly doesn't follow fashion in that respect. She goes into the bedroom, and I hear her talking to Angel. He doesn't respond, and seconds later she comes back out, directly turning into the bathroom. I silently make my way into Angel's bedroom and watch.

Angel doesn't even realise I'm here. He should do - a Sire can sense his own Childer. Angel is a sad, sad vampire and... What's this? Angel uncurls his long form from the bed and hesitantly climbs out of it. He's very thin and pale. It's obvious that he hasn't eaten enough for a long time. I observe him as he stretches his arms out before him and struggles to feel his way around. I'm guessing he has missed my presence here because all of his attention is focused on listening out for a heartbeat. That girls Fred's heartbeat. The sly devil. He's not so helpless. As soon as he knew she had gone, he moved from the bed.

Angel cautiously makes his way to a little cabinet and opens it. Inside is a first aid kit and some bottles of whiskey. Now this is interesting. He blindly reaches inside and his hand brushes against a bottle. He freezes a moment when the bottle rocks, but it doesn't fall. His fingers close around it and he carefully pulls it out. Next, he goes for the first aid kit. His fingers fumble to open it, but I think he's done this many times before. He deftly opens the catch and draws out a bottle of painkillers. Oh yes, he's done this many times before. He uncaps the bottle and downs the pills. The whole lot. Then he moves on to the next part of this ritual and opens the whiskey. That goes down much the same way.

Suddenly, I hear the heartbeat come nearer and so does Angel, even in his growing drunken state. He hobbles and reaches out for the bed. He doesn't make it. Angel falls flat on his face, tripping over a rug. I hear a sob and he pounds the floor with his fists.

"Angel!" I twist around and see Fred standing at the door. Her eyes fall on me and... "Arrgh!!"

The small girl comes at me like a lioness. All extended fingers and... hey, she tried to bite me! I manage to push her off and she falls back on the bed. In seconds she's up again but I evade her, and endeavour to keep her at a distance.

"Spike?" Angel's voice is rough and he tries to sit up. He's not very successful and bumps his head on the table at the end of the bed. This place is full of hazards. "Let her go!" he shouts, panicked. His hands thrust out blindly before him, as if trying to find her.

"Fred!" he yells.

"I'm okay, Angel," she answers back as we encircle each other.

"Look, I'm a friend, okay? Just hear me out."

"Fred, don't trust him!"

"Come on, Angel. I can't hurt her," I answer back. He knows about the chip, he was there over a year ago in Sunnydale, when they tied me up in the Watcher's house. Fred gives me the evil eye, and I'm pretty sure she knows where to stick a stake.

"Okay." Fred agrees, after a long tense moment. We move out into the main room and I tell her the full story. She looks a little concerned, and then goes to look at Angel for one last time before she leaves. She comments about checking with Wesley, but even she can see how Angel needs forcing to accept his new life. She might not know me but cares too much about Angel to prevent something that would help him live again. Though I'm not even entirely sure if I can get through to him. Hell, do I even want to?

"Spike!" Angel yells from his position on the floor. I walk back to the bedroom door and look down at him. Mmmm... nice position.

"Hello Peaches, I'm new nurse." That really gets him. Angel's face is a picture of shock and disbelief. It's a true pleasure to behold.

"What are you talking about? Where's Fred?"

"Oh, they won't be back. It's just you and me now, mate."

"Spike! Damn it, get me up." He struggles again, but can't steady his feet. Looks like the overdose of painkillers is kicking in.

"Oh no, Peaches. You got yourself there and now you can get yourself back. Oh forgot, you can't, can you? Too many pills and too much whiskey." Angel's face crumbles and to my horror, he begins to cry. He curls himself into a tiny ball on the floor and weeps into his arms. I don't do anything. This is his first lesson.

I turn and leave Angel lying on the floor. Wesley said I could have any of the guests room, but I think I'll need to stay near Angel. Therefore I'm going to have a couch and TV if this is going to work. I guess Angel won't be going anywhere tonight. So I am off on a Angel Investigations financed shopping spree.

*****
Part 2:

Next Evening:

Wesley and Cordelia were not happy about buying a comfortable sofa-bed and the huge TV, but I said that was the price for my services. Cordelia was about to throw me out, but in the end Wesley agreed. So with the help of some other guy that works for them - Gunn - I move in with Angel. I am going to love the look on his face when he finds out.

Speaking of Angel, I check his bedroom again. Nope, he hasn't moved since yesterday. He's still curled up on the floor, sleeping off his drunken and drugged state. That was my second task. I cleared out all of Angel's little stashes of alcohol. I actually shed a tear as I poured it down the sink. What a waste. I took a couple of swigs, because I couldn't bear to see it all go down the drain. However, it has to go because Angel can smell it. The same goes for the painkillers. Also everything else I think he might try to take - all weapons and medication have to go.

Next is the furniture. The tables go and anything in the centre of the room is pushed back to the sides. All the rugs go too. In the main sitting room the only thing in the centre is the sofa-bed. There is nothing around that Angel can trip over. Also on my little clean-up trip, I discovered that someone has blacked out all the windows, and chained the balcony door. I guess Angel tried to take a little sunlit stroll.

With all that done, my next task is to sit and wait for Angel to wake up. Of course, my waiting includes watching the TV and eating the snack food that AI paid for. I just love this TV; huge, 36 inch wide monstrosity with built in DVD player. It's great. It's worth having to watch Angel for awhile.

It's around 10pm when Angel finally starts to move. I hear him cough and moan. He must have a real beaut of a hangover from his little pill cocktail.

"Fred! Cordelia!"

I told you they did everything for him. He shouts out for them again, but I don't answer. I can hear him trying to stand and he shrieks in alarm. I guess he's just released the table's gone.

"Spike!" Finally!

"Damn it, help me."

"You got yourself down there Peaches, now get yourself back up!" I wander into the bedroom, and watch him reaching out blindly on the floor. He is one pathetic vampire. Even a human would be doing better than he is. "What are you trying to do?" I ask disgusted.

"You've taken away the furniture." He actually sounds panicked.

I roll my eyes, and decide to give him a break. I lean down, grasp his hand, and help him stand up. Both of Angel's hands grip my arm and he holds on for dear life. For the first time, I notice his eyes. They are like what Cordelia said - pure white. It saddens me for some reason. Those brown chocolate-coloured orbs are gone forever. Where did the chocolate part come from? I sigh and... Eww.

"Peaches, you need a shower. Come on," I start to pull him towards the door and he screams. Definitely not what I expected for the ex-Scourge of Europe. He scrabbles away from me, falls onto the bed and then lands on the floor - again. "Damn it, Angel what the hell is wrong with you?"

"What's wrong?" he bellows back, "I thought that was pretty obvious - I'm blind! I can't see anything. Nothing! I can't find the bathroom. I can't leave this room. Please, bring Cordelia up here, please!" He's weeping again. He is a... a disgrace. This isn't the Angel I know. This isn't the Dark Avenger fighting for truth, justice and the American way. Or was that Superman? God, I have got to avoid talking to Xander.

"Get off the floor!" I order, in my 'don't mess with me - I mean it' voice. The one I learned was very effective with Dru. Still nothing - it looks like he's going to be stubborn. I grab hold of his shirt and rip it off. Fine, if he won't do this the easy way, we will do it the Spike way. Next I pull off his jeans and leave him on the floor half naked. He weeps and struggles, but doesn't really do anything like fighting. It's all hopeless, half-hearted stuff. The truth is: I don't think he really cares about anything. That sickens me. This is my sire. Even Buffy fought harder than this. I know she had a little trouble with Glory, but in the end she came through. Even though it cost her her life. Angel's not even trying to battle this; my sire is a bloody quitter and I won't allow that to continue.

I go into the bathroom, fill a basin with water, and return to Angel. He hasn't moved, having made no effort at all. So, I do it. I tip the water over him and he yelps in shock. I made sure it was damn cold too.

"Get up!" I yell at him again. Still nothing. This time I kick at his leg.

"I can't," he weeps, "Please Spike, we aren't friends... just end it... please!"

"You are my bloody Sire, ya bastard." I kick him again. I'm really pissed now. "I've already watched too many people I love walk away or die! I won't watch you too. Buffy wouldn't have given up. She would have fought - she did fight - and all you can do is sit there on your bloody ass!"

Angel is silent for a long moment. He just sits and stares - oh, I forgot, he can't stare - well, he faces my direction. I fear what he's going to say. That I've become weak or gone soft. I can't believe what I've just said, but I think it's true. Everything I've ever had has been taken from me. Life, Angelus, Dru, Buffy and now Angel wants to leave me. Well I won't let him! He's the only thing from my past that I have left.

Totally out of the blue, Angel gets on his hands and knees, then carefully stands on his feet. Unsteady hands reach out before him and he takes a step forward. Then another. And another until he's almost facing me. Wow! It worked! I can't believe something I did actually worked. I don't say a word, but just take hold of his arm. I don't lead, just steady him.

"Put your hand out straight before you," I instruct him. He stops waving it around and does as I say. "Now count your steps." I direct him towards the bathroom and he mumbles the words. He notices when he turns and which direction. He stops when his hand touches the wall. "Find the door." He hesitates a moment but then glides his hand across the wall. Finally it comes into contact with the door frame. "Now the handle." Angel reaches out with his other hand and does the same thing across the door. When he finds the handle, he turns it.

"Right, where are we?"

"Huh?"

"Come on Angel, you're a vampire. You have better smell than humans." He sniffs the air, but his face is still puzzled.

"Good grief, can't you smell the water? Lemon bleach? Poofy after-shave?" Angel nods, and I guide him inside. This is going to be fun - not! How am I going to get him clean? "Take your shorts off, Angel."

He doesn't, just stands there fidgeting. "Spike, I can't... well...I..."

He's embarrassed! "Look mate, it isn't like I haven't seen it before, is it? You had it up my ass enough times for me to know your cock intimately."

"Oh." Angel pulls down his poofy silk boxers, and stands there naked. Well, that is a surprise! He's half hard. Guess it remembers me too, even if Angel doesn't admit to it.

I decide my best bet is to bathe him. A shower would be too close, too personal, and then there is the possibility of him slipping over. I fill the tub and put in some smelly girly stuff. I take his arm, and help him sit into the soapy water. He sighs as the warm water covers his skin. Angelus was always partial to a bath too. I recall when we used to bathe together. Warm bubbly water, warm hands...

Shut up! What the hell has gotten into me? I won't remember the times Angelus and I had together. I'm supposed to hate him. Though I guess, I don't do that much, because here I am after all. This is too confusing. I realise that that isn't the only thing which is perplexing. I'm hard, so much so that it's almost painful pushing against my tight jeans. What the hell is happening to me?

Angel reaches out and accidentally brushes my chest. His touch is soft and wet, leaving a damp spot on my T-shirt. The skin underneath my fingers goose pimples, begging for his long-denied touch.

"Sorry," he mumbles, "I was looking for the sponge." I hand it to him and quickly stand up.

"Err... call me when you're finished." I swiftly exit the bathroom. What am I doing? Getting turned on by Angel's body, that's what! Something I vowed to never do again. Angelus left his family; he deserted me and Drusilla. Then this Angel comes along and tries to kill us. Well, that was more the slayer, but he was still there. Oh, and he also warned Dru to leave without hurting her. Still, I've decided never again to think of him like that, to... but he did look a little thin. All those beautiful hard abs muscles were wasting away to nothing. Bloody hell, I need a fag!

About half an hour later there is a crash and splash from the bathroom. I run in to find Angel half in, half out of the tub. I guess the shower would have been better. Hey, I'm new at this! When I was looking after Dru (a little different I know) I used to bathe with her. I'm certainly not doing that with Angel. I run to him and grab his arm.

"Sorry, I didn't see..." he trails off, his eyes filling with tears.

"It's okay, mate. I should have realised." I help him out of the tub and wrap a towel around him. He looks far better now, smells fresher too. Almost like his old self - musk and spice. "I'm assuming you can do your hair," I say, grinning. That's bound to get a reaction.

"I've done it long enough without a mirror, Spike!"

Well, at least he's doing something - even if it's arguing with me. Angel reaches out and tries to find the sink. I sigh again.

"Angel, what are you doing? You're thinking like a human again."

"What do you mean?"

"You're a bloody vampire, peaches. You have 4 senses better than any humans. You have 4 senses better than any other blind person ." I grab his arm and pull him over to the sink. "Now, what do you smell?"

"I don't know..."

"Try!" He's going backwards again. He's going back into the 'I can't do anything' mode. "Come on, there's water. Bleach. Toothpaste. Weird-smelling after-shave. Nancy-boy hair gel. You can even hear that your faucet has a drip." Angel reaches out and cautiously moves his hand above the sink. He tries to go for the hair gel, but his hand is wild and he knocks it over onto the floor. I pick it up and put it back on the sink.

"Damn!"

"You're moving too fast, you have to feel for it." I put his hands to the sink and follow the shape round. His hand brushes the glass holding the toothbrush, bypasses it and moves on. Then he reaches the hair gel, and his fingers close around it. Wow, he's got the most sensual hands, with amazing gentle fingers. Fuck! - hold it right there! I suddenly draw back from Angel, but thankfully he doesn't notice. When he finishes his hair I guide him back to the bedroom. Now clothing...

Oh god, this is going to take forever! I can't do all this in two weeks! It's going to take a day to dress him, and then at night he has to undress. Then I have to shower him again... No! This isn't going to work. No, NO! I'm leaving. I'm...

"Thank you, Spike"

"Err... that's okay, Mate... ehm... going to get dressed then?"

It takes me a good hour to get Angel dressed in slacks and T-shirt. I had to show him were the wardrobe was. Where his slacks were, then his T-Shirts, his shoes, etc, etc. I never thought it would be this hard. Finally, I do have him fully dressed, and the next job is feeding him. Joy! All I can say is that he'd better be learning all this - and damn quick too.

"Now we are going to get you some blood." Bugger! I sound like a mother! At my sentence Angel instantly stiffens. What, he's got a problem about eating now? I take his arm again but he won't move. "Come on, Angel. Stop being so pigheaded!" I whine impatiently.

"Spike... I can't... What if I can't find my way back?" Tears are filling his eyes *again*. He's really scared about leaving this room.

"Angel, I'll show you how to get back."

"Promise?"

Oh great, now he sounds like a frightened little boy. "Sure," I say, without too much emotion.

I manage to get Angel onto his new apartment's couch and he sits uncomfortably. It's like he can't settle because he can't understand where he is without seeing it. I bring him his blood in a mug, and guide his hands around it. Luckily, he is extra careful brining it to his lips and doesn't spill a drop. Such sensual lips... okay, so not going there. To break the silence I turn the TV on and we watch - well I do and he listens - in silence.

~*~*~*~

One week later:

I've had a little thinking time over the last week and I've come to a realisation that something is wrong with Angel. These are not 'normal-Angel' reactions. Angel isn't passive and submissive to anyone. Now he's following me around like a lost puppy. I thought it was good. You know, he was being calm about it - behaving and stuff. But that's not it. He's in denial. He's not fighting, he's giving up and dying. Oh, he might still be walking and talking but inside he's dying. He's lost that fight. That drive he always had; no matter if he was Angelus or Angel, he always had that. He was an action type of person. Now, he's a 'sit on his ass all day' kind of person. If he was screaming, shouting, raging at this disability, then I could work with him, but this is getting us nowhere. So I've decided, instead of the nice approach I'm doing the other way.

~*~*~*~

Early Evening:

"Angel, get the fuck out of that bed and get dressed!"

"Spike?" Angel raises his head from his pillow but doesn't do anything more.

"Get out of bed. I'm not helping you, and I want you showered and dressed in half an hour. We are going out." I push Angel out of the bed and he lands on the floor.

"Out?" he whispers. Tears gather in his eyes afresh and resolutely he shakes his head. "I can't... I can't see anything. I can't Spike, I'm blind!"

At last I've got him shouting and not crying at me. "Yes, you're blind. Now deal with it because we are going out."

"Childe!" he yells. Now there's a word I haven't heard in a long time. "I am not going! I can't go out. I can't find my way to the fucking kitchen! I can't see my clothes. I can't see where I am fucking walking!" Angel gets to his feet. With a hand guiding him around the bed, he comes straight at me. I back away, but he continues to approach me. I can see his nose twitching, his fingers searching. I just keep backing up towards the bathroom, and still he advances. He avoids the furniture. He turns the corners. He knows where I am. I told you he damn well could do it! Just plain lazy. Or scared.

"You can't hide in the bathroom!" he shouts.

"How did you know?" That stops him dead. Angel has a perfect picture of confusion in his face.

"What?"

"Where are you, Angel?"

"The bathroom."

"And you got here all on your own." Angel's face is still full of rage, but suddenly all that changes. His face softens and what's this? A smile?

"The bathroom," he says in awe. He comes towards me much more calmly now and gently reaches out for my shoulder. His touch is light and feathery, making me shiver. He moves up my neck to lay his palm on my cheek. Wow, his hands are soft and bed-warmed. "Thank you, Spike." His fingers are suddenly gone and he moves over to the shower. I leave silently to let him get on. Yes, plan 1 was successful.

~*~*~*~

It takes Angel 45 minutes to get dressed. Then it takes me half an hour to get him down the stairs. I know he was petrified, but he didn't say anything. He's so afraid of getting lost. Since he's so lost inside, he naturally assumed he'd get lost outside. Strange fellow, my sire. When I get Angel into the lobby, Cordelia actually faints.

"Cordelia? Are you okay?" Angel calls out concerned.

Wesley is dumbfounded that Angel knew who it was. He is even more amazed when Angel calmly walks over to her and bends down. His fingers gently search for her body and he touches her arm. He kneels down and brushes the hair from her forehead.

"How...How?" sputters Wesley. He can't believe the changes in Angel after only one week.

"Angel?" Cordelia comes around and touches his face. Blind eyes look into hers. "You're okay?" She starts to cry and I know I'm not welcome here. I try and leave as silently as I can.

"Spike!" Angel cries, and I hear a hint of panic in his voice, so I stop. What am I doing? I got Angel down here, didn't I? In just a week I showed Wesley that he could still be active and useful. So why do I feel the need to be near him? Why do I always come when he calls? "Spike!" I reach out, gently putting a hand on his shoulder, and Angel calms.

I don't make him go out tonight. I just really said it to make him mad. It worked to; it got him fighting again. Angel's friends are jubilant to see him up and about, and make themselves look stupid as they fuss all over him. Strangely enough it's making me... jealous? No, that's not right. I'm not jealous of them at all! Damn! I have to think about this. I have to understand what I am feeling. I leave Angel to his friends and go sit outside in the little courtyard. Oh god, I think I'm actually going to brood - over Angel!

*****
Part 3:

Angel's POV:

The world is so dark. I knew that before but not in this sense. I thought it was dark because of all the evil, death and destruction in it. I can never see the living, breathing world. I am a vampire; I can't. I can't watch children playing in sunlight. Or kiss a woman on a sunlit pier. Still, now the world is an even darker place. I miss the colours so much. I even miss the darkness. At night I could look across the city and the sky was pierced by the shining lights of homes and buildings. Now there is nothing. Not even the tiniest light. This is the hardest part of all to accept. That there will never be a light again.

Before Spike came I had given up. I didn't want to fight, to learn how to live again. I just wanted to end it, but I was so scared. I was petrified of eternal damnation, and in my heart of hearts I didn't want that. So I asked my friends to end it, even Spike. They refused. They cared for me, carried me, fed me. Then Spike came along and he screamed, shouted and kicked me into doing those every day actions. He made me see that there was still life in this pitch black. That I could still feel something.

He showed me how to feel angry again, how to fight. Now he's showing me something more. Something about caring. I feel it every time he touches me. I can smell him. Hear his blood filled with it. I can feel it on his skin. The problem is that I haven't quite worked out what exactly *it* is. Spike makes me feel safe. He makes me feel alive. Which for a soulless, chipped demon is quite odd. When I think of Spike, I remember home and... err... well, sex. I might not be Angelus, but I still recall what it felt like to be with Spike. I haven't told anyone about our relationship. Not in one hundred years. I sometimes wonder if he felt it too. That connection between us. Not just then in the past, but in the present too. A feeling.

I'm talking to Cordelia and Wesley, when I realise I can't scent Spike anymore. Instant terror. I take deep breaths and calm myself. I can't panic because if I do I certainly won't be able to find him. I excuse myself from everyone and leave Wesley's office, where we have been talking. I can smell Spike - a scent of cigarettes, alcohol and honeysuckle aftershave - an odd habit of his. I follow the scent and try to remember how he brought me down here. I counted the steps and remembered the direction. All I have to do is follow his scent and go back almost the way I came...

My toe stubs on something. Must be a step. I lift my foot - it is a step! I climb slowly and Spike's scent moves. I think he went into the courtyard. I carefully open the door. I know there are some steps somewhere. Ah! Got them. Carefully, I walk down and I feel the night breeze caress my face, for the first time in over a month. I can smell Spike stronger here and I walk towards his calming presence.

"Spike?"

"Angel?" I can hear him jump up and strong hands take my arm. "You came out here yourself?" he asks, clearly amazed.

"I followed your scent." He guides me to the stone bench and I sit down. His hands leave my arm and I miss their seductive touch. It's like a flash of lightening inside my mind, and I know why he's out here. "You're leaving aren't you?"

"Yeah, you don't need me any longer, Angel. Your humans can work with you. Anyhow, we have to go back to hating each other again soon."

"I never hated you, Spike." I can almost taste his sudden anger.

"You have a funny way of showing it, mate."

"I was your mate, once." Yep, I can certainly smell his anger.

"Don't you ever pull that on me, Angelus. You left. You went and became the Slayer's little lapdog."

"I'm sorry, Spike. I still feel the same. I'm not Angelus but I still feel it." Feel what? Need? Want? I know that Spike's been angry with me for so long. I just want to leave that behind, I want to comprehend what I've been feeling for him.

"Feel what, Angel? What do you think you feel? Gratitude?" Spike stands up and he... oh, he's lit a cigarette. Hey, I'm not doing too bad with this. "I don't want you out of gratitude, Angel!"

"You want me?" Wow, I never expected to hear what come out of his mouth. Spike whose only fault is that he feels too much. More than any vampire I've ever known. Angelus never did. He wanted, needed, and took, but never felt anything. He never felt any emotion until he became me - with a soul.

"No!" Spike starts to pace; I know because I can hear his boots stamping down onto the slabs. I stand up, and when I hear Spike come near, I make a grab for him. My fingers grasp a strong muscled chest and arm. My hand slides up and grazes over his nipple, hard under his T-shirt. His body stiffens under my touch. I know he doesn't have any idea what I'm doing. I'm not sure about that myself. My hand moves higher until it slips around his neck. Ah, I know where his head is now. I lean forward and kiss... his nose. Guess I didn't aim low enough. Spike chuckles softly and even I have to laugh a little. As soon as I open my mouth to speak, his lips cover mine.

Spike tastes of cigarettes, blood and life. It's been so long since I've touched him. When Angelus returned last time, he basically ignored Spike and his affections. He cold-shouldered him because, like Buffy in the past, Spike had made Angelus passionate. He - I - have never told him that. I never told him of the heat inside me when I touched him. How it burned when I was near him. I denied it. I felt that heat in Buffy too, but now she's gone. Well, in reality we have been apart far too long for us to have another relationship. Now, Spike is here again. Spike, who makes me feel that burning, makes me come alive.

Spike's POV:

Bugger! Angelus' kisses were always irresistible. His mouth, so sweet, and *so* talented. He knows just how to utilise his tongue, teeth... well, his whole mouth in fact. He tastes so good, better than I allowed myself to remember. This better not be out of gratitude or shit like that. Still, he tastes so splendid that no way am I backing off from this kiss. Also there is that little fact that I haven't had any for nearly a year. Hold it! I'm not fucking with Angel. No way. Still, his tongue is getting into some really interesting places. His hand too...

"Spike," he moans into my mouth. Oh god, Angel, don't go and ruin it by speaking! "Spike, I want to touch you. I want to feel something again."

Okay, I so did not expect that. His hands are on my arms and they caress gently. Still, he feels indecisive. Maybe he doesn't really want me, but I'm just available.

"Angel... This is... just too fast... and..."

"No. Spike, I'm sorry. You don't want me. I'm sorry!" Angel turns and leaves. He would run, but he knows he'd trip over something. I don't stop him. I don't know what I want. Off course, he's taken my words wrong and I bet now believes he's all un-want-able again.

I had made up my mind to leave. That was it; Angel's fine and I'm off home to Sunnydale.

Unfortunately, it's not as simple as that. Something happened here. Yes, I taught Angel how to live again, but a lot more was going on than that. I saw the real Angel. Not a show or a facade. The real one. The one that's so insecure, and lonely. The one that loves to touch. The one that got hard every time I handled him. I don't think he never realised I knew. He forgets I can smell him, just as he can smell me. This is the Angel that wanted me, needed me. The Angel that spent time with me watching - well, listening - to the TV. The Angel who is slowly coming alive again before my very eyes. A part of me wants to see that. I want to know him when he's got his confidence back. To watch him discover the wonder of life again, and the wonders of Daytime TV. I just want him.

Oh, shit. Now, I'm going to have to go after Angel. I walk into the main foyer only to be treated to a shocking sight. There is Wesley handing Angel a white stick. Oh, great! I can smell Angel's fear and distress from here.

"I can't..." he mumbles. His hand shakes and he drops the stick. "I can't..."

"Angel?" Cordelia says, looking concerned.

Are they all a load of idiots? It was hard enough getting Angel down here, and now they have to terrify him again with the outside world. The outside world is like another planet to Angel - totally alien, black and mystifying. Even I know he's not ready for that. Angel steps away from them, not realising he is standing near the sofa. He goes down on his rump, with a yelp. With vampire speed I reach him before the others. There are tears in his eyes and desperate hands hold me.

"Spike, I can't. I can't go out there... please... I can't!"

"It's okay, Angel. You don't have to, not yet." I hold him. I don't care if it's in front of a few humans. I just hold and rock him gently. The intensity of his fear is almost overpowering, and attacking my senses and mind. Damn! When did I get so connected to Angel? I give the others an evil stare and they all look ashamed. I don't know why I am so angry. Maybe because they didn't think about his feelings, or his fears, or if he was even ready for this. They just wanted him to get over it and that's it. Well, it's not that easy. Wow, I've just realised that too. I didn't before. I just thought I could come here and cure him just like that, and then leave again. He might know how to move around, but he has no confidence. Just getting Angel to come downstairs had to be forced.

"It's okay," I whisper again, when he calms. I help Angel to his feet and hand him the stick.

"No!"

"Take it, now!" Surprisingly he does. "We aren't going out, but it will help you back upstairs, okay?" Angel's body relaxes and he takes the stick. I put it in his hand the right way and move it side to side. "Now this is just like your arm, move it side to side and it will tell you when you're near something." To everyone's amazement Angel does as I say.

"Spike, how do you know all this?" Cordelia enquires completely bewildered. I just love how I can shock their world.

"Daytime TV, Luv." I didn't fall from the stone age, you know. After 100 and odd years, you have to find something to do while away the daytime hours, when you're knackered from all the shagging. I guide Angel to the stairs, and the cane taps against them. Hey, another little smile. He uses the cane to make his way slowly up the stairs and turns the corner. I follow.

~*~*~*~

Angel's POV:

"Spike!!" I scream. The nightmares are getting worse, so that now I`m having 2 to 3 a night. It's so strange that in them I can see. I watch as my sight is stolen from me, and my dreams enter into darkness. They turn to nightmares then as I try desperately to find my way in the blackness - no sight to guide me. I can't take anymore of this. I can't! "Spike!" I bellow again.

There is a banging sound, and in seconds, Spike is beside me. "Angel?" I can smell him near me and I grab out for him. I don't care if he doesn't want me to touch him. I need to feel something, to have some comfort.

"Hey!" he shouts as I pull him into the bed.

"Spike, please just stay with me," I beg as I hold him tight against my trembling body.

"Angel, I don't know if..."

"Please, Spike, I need to feel something. It's so dark; so dark inside, too. I miss it... I miss it so much." I start to weep again, pushing my face into his silky hair. Spike sighs and relaxes against me. "I miss the colours. I never thought I would. I try and... smell them, but I can't. I can't feel them. I can't taste them. It's so dark."

"Shhh," Spike whispers, comforting me. I feel his fingers brush against my hair and down my back. "Go back to sleep, Angel."

It's hours later when I open... well, when I awaken again. It's still so dark, but for some reason it doesn't feel as bad. There is a bed-warmed body next to mine. Spike. My beautiful childe. A Childe I will never look upon again. I see him clearly in my mind's eye, and yet when I try and picture him in the real world I can't. It's just blackness. Instead I concentrate on the sensation of his body pressed to mine. His back squashed against my chest. One leg slightly covering mine. My arm around his waist. I slowly move forward and I can smell his clean hair. Bending down I can taste his familiar skin. It's been so long since I've touched him, but I still remember his taste.

"Uh... Angel... What are you doing?"

I didn't realise he was awake, but I don't draw away. "I'm seeing you."

Spike gives a little gasp and then moans. My hand slides up his chest, caressing his nipple... No, this isn't where I want to start.

"Spike, roll on your back. Please, I want to see you." Spike doesn't question and I can feel his body shift next to mine. The bare skin of his chest brushes against my arm, and I shiver. I get into a kneeling position and lean over him. No, still not right. I lift my legs and straggle his hips.

"Angel!" he gasps as my weight settles on his thighs. "This isn't what I..."

"Shhh," I scold, "Are you refusing to allow me to look at you?"

"Err, no... but... Okay, fine!" he says, and then promptly shuts up. I can feel the tension in his legs beneath me and... well that's interesting. He's getting a little hard too. I purposely lift myself again and rest some of my weight over his growing erection. He gives a little half-strangled moan that he can`t hold back. I don't think he wants me to know that I am affecting him. I don't need to see his face to know how his body reacts. I wonder if he can feel me too.

I think I've worked out what I want now. I want Spike. Not just because he's helped me, but because it's given me the chance to see him in a new light. I see the real Spike. The Spike who laughs at daytime TV. Who silently weeps when someone dies on Passions. The one who drinks, smokes and makes rude comments. The one who feels so much, who cares too much about everyone else around him. He'll yell and scream that he doesn't, but it's there. You can't see it - you have to feel it, smell it, hear it, taste it. He taught me that and he's teaching me how to understand him... it's Spike in all his paradoxical glory.

I don't think I'm going to let him in on my plan. I'm going to let him wonder a bit. What I want now is to see him. I want to know what he looks like - not with my eyes, but with all those other senses. It's like I am a stranger meeting his body for the first time. Ah, good fantasy. Everything about him is new to me. So I'm going to find out just who this stranger is.

*****