*****

Darkness, close, claustrophobic. Fear, and hunger like an animal in his insides. Underneath, pain and... loneliness?

Where am I? Angel thought. Is this a dream?

Okay. Concentrate. Damp, cold, the scent of decay. A crypt? How..?

Angel awoke in his own bed, the remnants of the dream still clinging to his mind. No, not a dream, he realized. He'd felt this sort of thing before, most recently when Penn, his first childe, had come to town. This was a connection with one of his offspring, an emotion so intense that it reached across the connection he shared with all of them.

But where Penn had sent him a thrill of bloodlust, this was a miasma of confusion and suffering. One of them was in trouble.

Angel reached for his phone, dialing Wesley's number from memory.

"Hello?"

"Wesley, I'm sorry to wake you. I... I had a strange dream."

"Much as I appreciate your alerting me, in light of your history with strange dreams..." Wesley sounded equal parts amused and annoyed, "...couldn't this have waited until morning?"

"I'm sorry," Angel said. "It was very real. I think it was one of my childer, er, offspring."

Wesley's voice was instantly serious. "Was there a murder? Are they in town?"

"No," Angel felt a bit foolish now. "He was hurt, in emotional pain..."

There was silence on the other end of the line. "Wesley?" Angel prompted.

"I'm here," Wesley said levelly, and there was another pause. "Can we discuss this tomorrow?"

Yes," Angel said. "I'm very sorry."

"It's okay," Wesley said. "Good night."

+++++++++++++++

"Was that the boss?" Gunn asked, pulling Wesley back into his arms.

"Yes," Wesley said, distracted now.

"Do we need to get up? Please say no."

"No."

"Good."

"He's had a dream," Wesley explained. "He thinks it's one of the vampires he's made in some sort of trouble. He could feel this other vampire's pain."

"Wow. Heavy."

"Indeed."

Gunn gave his lover a squeeze, and frowned. "Are you okay? Do you have something on your mind?"

Wesley shook his head to clear it, and turned to Gunn with a small smile. "Nothing that can't wait," he said, then sighed. "It's just... I sometimes forget that Angel has issues we can't really understand."

"Yeah," Gunn said. "He's got issues, alright."

"Don't be jealous," Wesley said. "We were both in a dark place then..."

"I'm not jealous," Gunn reassured him. "I just don't want you to feel responsible for his problems."

"I don't. But if I can help him, if I have that skill..." Wesley grew thoughtful again. "I'm just not sure how to reconcile the fact that helping him may also help a bloodthirsty killer."

"Worry about it tomorrow," Gunn murmured, pressing his mouth to the side of Wesley's neck.

+++++++++++++++

Wesley and Angel faced each other across the desk, Wesley holding a ballpoint poised above his notepad. "I think we need to begin by making a list of your offspring, along with a few descriptive remarks. Perhaps this will jog your mind and help you make a connection."

Angel nodded, looking a little more worried than usual. "Penn was my first," he said. "I think I told you that. But he's gone." Angel took a moment, then continued. "Six years after him was Jens, a student in Austria. He was studying music, I believe..."

+++++++++++++++

Wesley surveyed the sheets of paper spread over the surface of his desk with dismay. "This is overwhelming," he said aloud.

"What is?" Gunn asked.

"I had no idea Angel had this many offspring," Wesley said. "Childer, he called them, to distinguish them from minions. I don't even want to know how many minions there are."

Gunn picked up a few of the pages. "He probably lost count," he said.

"Thirty-nine!" Wesley went on. "Created, brought up in Angelus's image, then loosed on the world to make offspring of their own. I can't even imagine."

"Just like cockroaches," Gunn said, picking up several more pages and leafing through them quickly.

"The dream was just so vague," Wesley said. "It could be any of them."

"And it probably doesn't help that Angel fixated on a particular type, either," Gunn said.

Wesley gave his lover a questioning look. "What do you mean?"

Gunn put the pages back down on the desk, spread out as they had been. "I mean, up until Drusilla, it was all the same type of person." He pointed to a few different pages. "Penn. Studying to be a minister. Thomas, a writer. Emil, classics student. Arne, mathematics student. Donal, bookkeeper. Academic assistant, writer, student, student." Gunn gave a smug smile. "Angelus liked nerds."

Wesley shuffled through his notes. "I hadn't thought of that..."

"They even looked alike," Gunn said, only just noticing. "Look. Blond hair, blue eyes. Blond. Fair. Pale, blue eyes. Blue eyes. Blue eyes." He looked back up and drew the back of his fingers along Wesley's cheek-bone. "No wonder he couldn't keep his hands off you. You're exactly what he went for. If he'd been Angelus, you'd be a vampire by now."

Wesley turned away, embarrassed. "I hardly think..."

Gunn smiled fondly. "Probably would have made you bleach your hair blond, though," he said.

Wesley pulled away from Gunn suddenly.

"Are you all right?" Gunn asked.

"Yes," Wesley said. "It's just... He forgot one."

Gunn followed Wesley into the lobby, where Angel was feeding Connor his bottle. The vampire looked up at their approach. "Did you find anything?"

Wesley shook his notes accusingly at Angel. "You forgot the most likely suspect," he said. "The one who we know is in close proximity and is also likely to be experiencing the feelings you describe."

Angel looked confused. "Who?"

"Spike," Wesley said. "William the Bloody."

Angel shook his head. "No," he said. "That isn't possible."

"But the facts add up," Wesley said. "Your relationship was very close for almost two decades. He's less than a hundred miles away, as the crow flies. And in his condition, he would possibly be feeling the things you described."

"You forgot the most important detail," Angel said. "I didn't make Spike. Dru made him."

Wesley was surprised. "You didn't? But the Watcher's diaries..."

"Are wrong," Angel said. "They took their best guess, I'm sure, but they didn't have all of the information."

"Oh." Wesley sat down in a nearby chair.

"Maybe they got him confused with one of the other ones," Gunn suggested.

"But he called you his Sire on at least one occasion," Wesley said. "Giles referred to it in his own notes."

"Oh," Angel said. "That."

"'That,' what?" Wesley said.

Angel took the finished bottle from his son's mouth, lifted the infant to his shoulder and patted his back until a bubble came up. Then he rose to put him in his bassinet. "I made him call me that," Angel explained. "Dru... You have to understand, she wasn't prepared to care for a fledgling vampire. We didn't even know she'd made him until she came home with this frightened, filthy little creature that had just clawed out of its coffin. She hadn't bothered to explain anything to him. I don't think she really understood what she had done. If I hadn't been there, he wouldn't have survived. But I thought... I'd been trying to make vampires to help care for Drusilla for some time, but none of them seemed interested in her. I thought this one, William his name was then, might form a bond with her, if he could be reared properly."

"So you took on the task yourself," Wesley said.

"Yes," Angel replied. "I had to improvise. There are ways we do things, ways we bond with the vampires we create to make them more than mere minions. But as far as I know, no one had never raised another vampire's childe." Angel sat back down and sighed. "It wasn't an easy transition, and I wasn't exactly gentle and patient with the boy. If he looked to Drusilla instead of me for anything, I'd... beat him until he minded me."

"Oh," Wesley said.

"I'm sorry," Angel said. "Those first few years... it was insane, even by our standards."

"Wait a minute," Gunn said. "You didn't actually do the whole blood exchange, but in a way he was like one of your... childer?"

Angel gave a small smile. "Yes. Eventually," he said. "Once he settled down and began to behave himself, I began to reward him, and bond with him myself."

"Did he respond?" Wesley asked.

"Oh yes," Angel said, his expression softening into something like fondness. "Once I started... rewarding him, he was very affectionate. Sweet, even." Angel shook his head. "It's hard to believe, now, but we were very close."

Wesley swallowed, hesitating before his next question. "Were you... intimate?"

Angel smirked. "You could put it that way," he said.

"Could you not then be connected to him now?" Wesley went on. "If he were desperate enough, wouldn't he reach out, even subconsciously, to the one who not only cared for him but was strong enough to protect him?"

Angel shook his head again. "I don't think so. I've never heard of vampires who weren't sire and childe by blood being connected this way."

"But you just said that you'd never heard of one vamp raising another's offspring," Gunn said. "Couldn't that have... changed the rules?"

Angel considered this. "It's possible, I guess. We were... close. He was almost like a childe of my own blood. I thought of him that way."

"Perhaps we're approaching this from the wrong direction," Wesley said. "We need to determine who is linked with you. Do you think... Do you think you could try to make contact from your side, reach out mentally as you're falling asleep, strengthen the bond if you can?"

"I could try," Angel said.

"I think that's best for now," Wesley said.

+++++++++++++++

Angel was aware that this wasn't him, that he was actually asleep in his bed in Los Angeles, but it seemed that Wesley's experiment had worked. He had concentrated on the feelings he'd felt the night before as he lay still, feeling sleep overtake him. Then, when he'd started to dream, he allowed those feelings and thoughts to carry him along, rather than fighting them.

Now he seemed to be fully in this other vampire's mind. And he wasn't entirely happy about it.

For starters, he was indeed in a crypt of some sort. Nothing wrong there; he'd always taught his childer that crypts were a good, safe, temporary shelter, though this seemed more established. There was quite a bit of furniture, and it seemed to have been wired for electricity. This was actually good evidence in favor of it being Spike, as Sunnydale was the only town Angel had ever seen that had lighting in its cemeteries. The furniture, however, was little more than trash, filthy dirty and in disrepair.

Angel could feel this other vampire's hunger acutely, now. It was a dull pain in his stomach, like a knife had been shoved in and the skin had grown over the blade. It was a pain that Angel had lived with not that long ago, in the years before a badly-dressed smart-assed demon called Whistler dragged him to California. Another point in the Spike column. Obviously this vampire wasn't feeding as he should be.

Somewhere a stone door was moved aside, and Angel felt lust and fear and longing sing through his host. A person was climbing down from above, and then Angel knew it was Spike he was linked with as Buffy stepped down to the floor.

"Come back for more, Slayer?" Spike said with a bravado Angel knew he wasn't feeling.

Buffy held up a ratty bouquet of flowers wrapped in crumpled paper. "What is this supposed to mean?" she demanded.

"Do you like them?" Spike asked coyly, and Angel felt a wave of hope rise in Spike's heart.

In response, Buffy flung the flowers at Spike's head. "What's wrong with you?" she shouted. "This isn't a romance... A... a love affair. This is me using you and you using me until something better comes along. My friends, and especially Dawn, don't find out, or I'll stake you so hard Drusilla will feel it."

"Buffy..."

In response to Spike's entreaty, the Slayer launched herself at him, pummeling his torso with her fists, and driving him back until he fell on the bed, reaching up to pull her down on top of him. Inside, Angel watched in fascinated horror as Buffy attacked Spike's mouth with her own, kissing him and moving her hands over his body. But there was no tenderness here. She held Spike down with her superior strength as she roughly pulled his shirt open and over his shoulders, then undid his jeans and shoved them down to his knees.

She took his cock in her hand, squeezing tightly enough to bring tears to Spike's eyes, and Angel felt Spike's loathing of himself as the organ hardened under her touch. Her mouth still on his, and still holding him down, Buffy hitched her skirt up around her waist and climbed onto the bed to straddle Spike's lap.

What followed was hard and passionless, and even though Spike was kissing her, touching her, and was embedded deep inside her, he felt utterly alone.

When it was done, Buffy pulled away, not even letting Spike hold her for a moment. "I mean it," she said. "Don't leave little presents at my house again." Then she re-adjusted her clothes and left.

Slowly, Spike rose, swallowing down the disgust and longing as he did up his jeans and shirt.

In Los Angeles, Angel struggled back to consciousness.

+++++++++++++++

"Hello? Angel?"

"Yes, it's me. I'm sorry to bother you again, Wesley..."

"No, it's all right," Wesley told him as he rose onto one elbow. "Were you able to make contact?"

"Yes, you were right. It was Spike."

"Are you alright? You sound... strange."

"I..." There was a long hesitation, and Wesley heard Angel moving about. "I think I know why he's established this connection with me."

"Go on," Wesley said calmly.

"He's in a relationship that... that was a lot like my time with him," Angel said. "He's being used. Hurt. His own feelings used against him."

"Who's doing it?"

There was another long pause. "It's Buffy."

Wesley couldn't believe his ears. "*Your* Buffy?"

"I didn't tell you what happened when I saw her last," Angel said, "but... she's not the girl I remember. Everything that happened to her, it changed her."

"I don't know what to say," Wesley said faintly.

"It doesn't matter," Angel said. "She made it clear she didn't want my help."

"I'm sorry."

"But Spike does need me," Angel said firmly. "Even if it's only subconsciously. I can't let him follow the same pattern. We need to get in contact with him."

"Do you need to go to Sunnydale?" Wesley asked.

"I... I wish there were some way to call him," Angel said.

"Maybe there is," Wesley said. "Did you see the film 'The Matrix'?"

*****
Part 2:

Spike watched TV without really connecting in his mind. He wasn't even seeing the pictures anymore, just patterns of light. In his mind he replayed his encounters with Buffy over the previous weeks over and over. And he wondered just when he had lost his dignity, his self-respect, and his mind.

Just then there was a knock at his door, and Spike was shaken from his reverie. No one ever knocked here. They either didn't care enough to visit or simply barged in. No invitation clause when you *were* a vampire, unfortunately. Spike rose and approached the door cautiously. "Who's out there?" he asked.

"Western Union," came the reply. "I have a package for a Mr. William Spike. Am I at the right, um..."

Spike pulled the door open. "That's me," he said. "What is it?"

The courier stared at the vampire in disbelief for a moment before falling back on the habit of ten thousand deliveries. "I don't know, sir," he said, proffering a small padded envelope and a clipboard. "Sign here, please."

Spike eyed the items suspiciously, then shrugged, tucked the package under his arm and signed the sheet. The courier tipped his hat and walked quickly from the cemetery while Spike retreated back inside and opened the parcel.

Inside was a slim cellular phone. Spike looked at it curiously, then flipped it open and pressed the 'on' button. The small LCD screen lit up, and a pre-programmed greeting appeared: 'DIAL F# 01'

Spike looked around, suddenly feeling as though he was the object of an elaborate joke, then carefully pressed the sequence.

+++++++++++++++

The second line on Angel's office phone rang, what he thought of as his 'private line,' and he felt his chest tighten with nervousness. Only one person would call this number now that Giles had returned to England. Swallowing hard, Angel lifted the receiver. "Spike?" he said.

The other end of the line clicked dead.

+++++++++++++++

Spike only just managed to stop himself from flinging the phone against the wall and breaking it into so many bits. What the *hell* was Angel doing? He screamed in his mind. He slammed the phone down on top of the TV and retreated several feet away to stare at it angrily. It was some sort of trick. It had to be.

Within a minute, the phone started ringing. Spike continued to glare. On the seventh ring he crossed to it and picked it up, hitting the 'talk' button as he did so.

"What the fuck is this about?" he demanded.

"Oh, good," came Angel's voice. "You didn't destroy it."

"Answer my question."

"I've been having dreams, Spike."

"Jolly good for you," Spike sneered. "Why don't you call Miss Cleo and let her know."

"Who..?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Never mind. Why are you telling me? And make it good, 'Passions' is on."

"No it's not," Angel said. "I made sure the phone was delivered at five after."

Spike glanced back at the television. Sure enough, KNBC had switched to some game show. "So what if it isn't," he said. "My time is valuable. Talk."

"I think I have some sort of connection with you," Angel said. "I can feel that you're in a lot of pain."

"You've gone mental again," Spike said. "I'm happy as the proverbial clam..."

"I saw Buffy throw those flowers at you," Angel said.

Silence.

"Then she threw you on the bed and held you down while she..."

"Shut up," Spike shouted. "Is that what this is about? Revenge for spoiling your virgin idol?"

"This isn't about her," Angel said gently.

"You're lying."

"How much are you eating?" Angel asked.

"What the hell do you care?" Spike shot back.

"I felt how hungry you were," Angel said.

"Well... blood is expensive," Spike said petulantly.

"Where are you getting it?"

"Here and there. You remember the health-food store on Chain Street?"

"They deal in human blood," Angel said.

"That's what I drink," Spike said. "I'm a vampire, remember?"

"But it's very expensive," Angel explained. "You can get by on butcher's blood."

"Sure," Spike said. "Just walk up to the deli counter and order a few pints, I guess. They'll never suspect a thing."

"Go to the loading dock at Sunny-Mart," Angel said. "Ask for Anthony. He works the three to ten shift most nights. Tell him Angel sent you, and he'll only charge you for the packing."

"You know this guy?"

"Long story," Angel said. "We... Buffy and I... We helped out his kid once."

"Why are you doing this for me?"

"I remember what it was like," Angel said.

+++++++++++++++

"I know I shouldn't care," Angel said. "If he could, he would kill everybody in Sunnydale I've ever cared about."

"But you do," Wesley said softly.

"I do," Angel affirmed.

"I can't say I'm entirely comfortable with what you're doing," Wesley said, "but I'd be lying if I said I didn't understand it."

"You do?" Angel was surprised.

"He's your family," Wesley said. "You can't just shrug that off. Even when you want to," he added.

"He wasn't always like he is now," Angel explained. "I remember... when it was just the two of us, when he didn't feel like he had to impress Dru or show off for other vampires... It was nice. Comfortable."

"And you'd like that back," Wesley said.

"Sounds crazy, doesn't it."

"A little," Wesley said.

"But when I was talking to him, and it was just the two of us again..." Angel sighed sadly. ".I think he might have wanted it, too."

"What are you going to do?"

"Keep talking to him," Angel said. "Try to shake him out of this pattern he's in."

"Just be careful," Wesley said.

+++++++++++++++

"So how is your baby?" Spike asked.

"Fine," Angel told him. "He's growing bigger every day."

"I was trying to figure this out," Spike said. "What would his relationship be to me? Brother, you think?"

"Not sure," Angel said. "He's Darla's, too, so."

"Ugh. Best not pursue that train of thought," Spike said.

"I was just thinking the same thing," Angel said. "Why don't we just call you an uncle."

"That sounds good," Spike said. "Maybe Uncle Spike ought to pay a visit. See that he's being raised right."

"I'd like that," Angel said seriously, and there was silence on the other end of the line.

"Spike?"

"Uh, look, I've got to go," Spike said suddenly. "I'll call you back tomorrow."

+++++++++++++++

Spike lay in his bed, the thin sheet wrapped around him. The weather had turned cold, and it was chilly and damp under the ground where he was. The candles he'd lit to try and cheer the place up were flickering in the draft, sending weird shadows over the stone walls. He reached under his pillow and wrapped his fingers around Angel's cell phone.

Idiot, he told himself a moment later. All sentimental over a stupid phone.

Above him he heard the stone door to his crypt slam open, and Buffy's voice shouting down. "Spike! Where are you?"

Under his head, Spike's hand tightened on the phone. He stayed quiet and still, listening to Buffy's footsteps coming closer to the ladder leading down. "Are you down there?" she called, sounding slightly confused.

Spike didn't move.

Then she moved away and out, closing the crypt's door behind her.

"I really have lost it," Spike muttered to himself as he climbed out of bed and began to dress.

+++++++++++++++

Gunn and Wesley were draped over the large cushioned chairs in the Hyperion's lobby, drained from the evening's battle with yet another enormous tentacled demon. Fred was applying bandages to Gunn's shoulder while Wesley looked on, and nearby Cordelia was bouncing Connor in her arms, trying to get him back to sleep.

Angel leaned heavily on the counter. Now that the excitement was over, he was anxious to get upstairs and try calling Spike again. The younger vampire hadn't answered when Angel had phoned earlier, and Angel worried he had spooked him by blurting out that invitation the night before. On the other hand, maybe Spike had just forgotten to recharge the cell's battery.

"Easy, there, girl," Gunn said. "Some of my hair goes every time you pull that tape."

"Sorry," Fred said.

"Do you want me to kiss it and make it better?" Wesley suggested, and Gunn smiled.

"I know something you could kiss that would make everything better," he said.

"Please," Cordelia said. "There are sensitive ears present! And a baby!"

"Sorry," the two men mumbled in unison.

"You next," Fred chirped, turning to Wesley. Obediently, the Englishman pulled open his shirt. He had only been slashed once, not seriously, but his pale skin was a mass of bruises.

Gunn looked at his lover's chest with shock. "How badly does it hurt?" he asked.

"Not badly," Wesley said. "I think it looks worse than it is."

"Fix him up quick," Gunn told Fred. "I'm going to take him home."

"Really, I'm fine," Wesley said.

Angel crossed to where Cordelia stood with his son. "Here, let me take him," he said.

"Are you okay?" Cordy asked gently. "I could patch you if you need it."

"No, I'm okay," Angel said. "I just have something on my mind."

"And you need some alone-brooding time," Cordy said. "It's cool, I understand. I'll just help Fred finish up the guys and we'll get out of your way."

"I appreciate."

Suddenly all heads turned as the front door swung slowly open, and a thin, bleached-blonde vampire stepped in.

*****
Part 3:

He looks bad, was Angel's first thought as he took in the sight of Spike standing in his hotel's lobby, his arms crossed across his chest, his eyes defiant and wary.

Cordelia reacted first. "What are you doing here?" she said.

"I invited him," Angel said, handing the baby to her. He crossed to the door in a few long steps. "Come in," he said. "Sit down."

"Invited him?!" Cordy was incredulous. "I mean, I know he's all neutered now."

"Hey," Spike said angrily.

"Cordelia," Wesley said above the general din. "Perhaps we should go."

"Go..? But, but. Spike!"

"Give Angel his boy," Gunn said, getting to his feet. "This isn't our business."

Cordy looked from face to face as though everyone had gone crazy. "Angel..?" she said softly.

"Fred, take Connor upstairs," Angel instructed, and the smaller girl lifted the child out of Cordy's arms and retreated up the stairs.

"It's okay," Angel said. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Gunn had his hands on Cordelia's shoulders, now, and was guiding her towards the door. "You'd better not be going crazy again," she fired over her shoulder as she left.

"I'll see you tomorrow, too," Wesley said as he followed them. "It was a pleasure to almost meet you," he added, and Spike smirked at him.

"I'm glad you decided to come," Angel said when everyone had gone.

"I still don't know why I did," Spike said, unfolding his arms and stepping down into the room. "No," he corrected himself when he had his back to Angel. "I had to get away from Sunnydale. I was going crazy there."

Angel didn't answer, so Spike changed subjects. "New bunch of humans, I see. Except for the debutante, of course. I like the big guy, though the skinny Brit's more your type."

"He was," Angel said. "For a little while."

"Thought he might have been," Spike murmured, then turned back to Angel. "So where am I sleeping?" he said.

+++++++++++++++

Angel gave Spike the rooms across from his own, but wasn't surprised when the younger vampire followed him back into his own suite.

Spike entered the rooms and began to prowl around, exploring while Angel started to change for bed. Angel watched quietly as Spike moved into the adjoining room, now Connor's nursery, and stood by the crib, looking down at the sleeping infant. After a long moment he looked back at Angel.

"Thanks for letting me come here," he said.

"I knew you were in trouble," Angel said. "I could feel it myself."

Spike waved one hand dismissively. "I'd've been fine, eventually," he said. "Just, this thing with the Slayer. It's got me all twisted around, you know?"

"I know," Angel said.

"I mean, it's not right," Spike went on. "We're just both so fucked up."

"Yes," Angel agreed. "You should be with someone." He trailed off, and Spike jumped on his thought.

"Who loves me?" he asked bitterly. "Why, that's brilliant, Angelus. That's fucking genius! And where would I find this person? Have you seen anybody who really loves me lately, cause I sure haven't."

"I'm sorry. I didn't."

"No, you sure didn't," Spike said.

A tense silence followed, which Angel finally broke. "I do care about you," he said.

"Only so you can sleep at night," Spike said. "Fantastic. That makes me feel so much better, helping you with the whole existential guilt bullshit. So instead of using me as a toy, I'm just a salve for your ego."

"I'm not using you," Angel said angrily, then held up his hands in supplication. "I enjoyed talking to you," he said, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I got to thinking about the old days. When we'd. talk. And just."

"You mean when you were fucking me," Spike said.

"Not just that," Angel said defensively.

Spike half-closed his eyes, and moved towards Angel, slowly, almost gliding. "Miss the old rough and tumble, do you? Like to rekindle the flame?"

Angel swallowed nervously. "Do you?" he asked, and Spike laughed, the mood broken.

"Sometimes," he said. "But that was long time ago. We can't just go back to the way it was." He laughed again. "For one thing, I doubt your good little soul would let you chain me down and pound me raw."

"I wouldn't."

"I know," Spike said, suddenly serious. "But if you want to start again. I'm willing."

Angel drew a shaky breath. "Do you want to. ah...?"

Spike smiled. "Nope. Not yet, anyway," he said.

"Good," Angel sighed.

"Too confusing for both of us right now. I know it. But we'll talk some more tomorrow."

"I'd like that," Angel said.

+++++++++++++++

Cordelia took another sip of her cappuccino then looked from Wesley's face to Gunn's and back again. They hadn't taken her far from the hotel, just around the corner, really, to an all-night diner, and over waffles and omelets had tried to explain what was going on with Angel and Spike.

Not an easy conversation, since neither man was entirely sure what *was* happening.

"I guess I sort of get it," Cordelia said. "But are we absolutely sure Spike is harmless?"

"Harmless may be a bit of an overstatement," Wesley said, "but from what we already know of his. alteration. he can't harm any of us physically."

"You guys are all way too uptight about this," Gunn said. "Didn't you see them? They want each other."

"Ugh," Cordelia said. "A mental picture I so did not need."

"That's not fair," Gunn said gently. "Angel's all alone, because he's got some sort of rule against getting into a relationship with humans. It screwed things up with Buffy, it screwed things up with Wesley, sorry, man."

"It's okay," Wesley said. "There were other problems, too, but that was a big one."

"Anyway," Gunn went on, "if he wants to give it a go with this Spike character, maybe that's the best thing for him. I think we should be supportive."

Cordy opened her mouth to protest, then nodded slowly. "Okay," she said. "For now."

Solemnly, Wesley agreed as well.

+++++++++++++++

Spike emerged from his room the next afternoon just after 4, and descended to the lobby where Cordelia was filing some case folders and Fred was playing with the baby. "Where's the poof?" he asked.

"If you mean Angel," she replied, "he and Wesley went out to pick up some scaffolding equipment."

Spike looked confused. "What sort of thing are you fighting that you need that?"

Cordelia pointed up. "Flaking plaster ceilings," she said.

Spike looked up, gave a perfunctory nod, then picked up one of the pens from the holder on the desk and spun it in his fingers. "So. what do you do for fun around here?" he asked.

"Work," Cordelia said without looking up from her filing.

"And the baby takes a lot of time," Fred put in.

Spike turned to her and gave his most charming smile. "I don't think I've met you yet," he said. "Fred, is it?"

"That's me," she said, "but I've heard all about you. That you and Angel used to be vicious killers together, and Angel's your Sire, but not really, and you were probably knocking boots back in the day."

"Fred," Cordelia said, crossing to where she was. "We don't need to talk about that right now."

"S'Okay," Spike said with a grin. "She's not telling me anything I didn't already know. I was there, you'll remember."

"Ooo, I'm sorry," Fred said, suddenly realizing what she'd said. "I'm going to take the baby upstairs and make his dinner." Then she hurried from the room.

Cordelia fixed Spike with a hard stare. "I don't really need to know all the details of what you and Angel are to each other," she said. "But if you hurt him, I will find you, and I will make the Scourge of Europe look like Barney the dinosaur. Got it?"

"Yes, ma'am," Spike said with a smirk.

"Good," she said. "Now clear out. I need to get these files put away before the guys start slopping plaster sealant all over the place."

+++++++++++++++

Angel was giving Spike the walking tour of the neighborhood, and the younger vampire was starting to wonder why he had stayed in Sunnydale so long. Most shops there closed well before dusk, except those that catered to a select clientele, and Spike was no longer welcome in most of those. Los Angeles, on the other hand, seemed to wake up in the darkness. There were clubs and restaurants with streams of hip young people going in and out, trendy shops with glittering displays, a coffee bar and juice stand surrounded by exotic-looking teenagers. Even the mundane places, the mini-mart and the book store, were brightly painted in the hues of tropical birds.

"Do you like cappuccino?" Angel asked.

"Love it," Spike said.

"I never used to drink it," Angel said, leading the way to a small table in the open-air caf� portion of Java Heaven. "Made me jumpy. But that was before I had to work for a living."

"Hey, guys, what can I get you?" chirped a waitress in black satin jeans and a t-shirt with Java Heaven's mascot, Joe the Dancing Coffee Cup.

"A tall Sumatra roast, black," Angel said.

"Do you have Mocha Diablo?" Spike asked.

"Sure do."

"Give me a tall, extra whip, and sprinkle some cinnamon on top," Spike said.

"You got it," she said, heading back to the counter.

"Can you taste all that?" Angel asked.

"Some of it," Spike told him. "The cinnamon kind of has a sting, and I like the smell of the chocolate. And the hot drink and cool cream together in my mouth feels interesting. It's more a question of sensation with us, I've found, not taste so much."

"True," Angel agreed. They watched people passing by for a few minutes in silence before their drinks arrived, then Angel said, "do you suppose they're wondering what happened to you in Sunnydale?"

"Maybe for about five seconds," Spike said. "Then they shrugged and went on with their lives."

"Even Buffy?"

"Especially Buffy. Probably relieved she doesn't have to go through the whole approach-avoid melodrama anymore." He put a spoonful of whipped cream in his mouth.

"Don't you even want them to send your things?" Angel asked, and Spike grinned.

"Oh, very smooth, Angelus," he said. "But since having my belongings incinerated is sort of a liet-motif of my life these past few years, there's nothing worth sending." He looked up through his eyelashes and raised his cup to his lips. "Just have to buy new, I suppose."

"I'm glad you're staying," Angel said, and he reached across to brush Spike's cheek with his fingers. Spike jumped away, and Angel pulled his hand back.

"Sorry," he said. "Didn't mean to push."

It's not that," Spike said, looking around nervously. "I just didn't want to attract unwanted attention."

"You have been in Sunnydale too long," Angel said. "Nobody cares here." Spike put his cup down and Angel took his hand. "It's okay," he said. "I want people to know you're with me. You're beautiful."

Spike's eyes dropped closed, just for a second, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

*****