Angel walked back into his office and was greeted by the sight of Cordelia sitting at her desk, Doyle by the door, and Spike, in a waiting area chair. No one was saying a word. They all looked up at him with questioning eyes. Cordelia looked as if she wanted to smack him upside the head. Doyle had an amused little smirk. And then there was Spike. His eyes flickered with a thousand emotions. Angel just stood in the doorway and looked at everyone in turn. He knew it would not be easy to explain. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to, at least not to his employees. He would have to talk to Spike. They were all saved by the ringing of the phone.

"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless."

Cordelia faded to the back of Angel's mind as he used that moment to escape to his office. He didn't notice Doyle follow him inside.

"Well, I imagine this is gonna change a bit. How'd she take it?"

"How did she take what? I explained to her about the bond Spike and I share." Angel stared straight ahead. A bond - it sounded so, plain. He fidgeted with a pen lying on his desk. This was not the person he should be talking to. "There is really nothing else to say. She is going back to Sunnydale, back to her life." Angel didn't want to talk about this right now - not with Doyle, not with anyone. Part of him wanted to take Spike down to his apartment and rekindle their bond fully. Another part wanted to hear he was caught on candid camera. He was caught, all right. Caught with a bunch of emotions he wasn't prepared to deal with.

"Well, how do ya think Spike is takin' it?"

"I don't know." That needed to be remedied quickly. Spike had been under enough stress in the past few hours. Angel swivelled in his chair and stared out into the city. It was getting later, and the sun was going down. Maybe they could go get some dinner, have a chance to talk about what had happened. Maybe, between the two of them, they could figure it out. Angel turned back toward Doyle when the door to his office opened.

"He's gone." Cordelia genuinely looked worried.

"I went to pull a file and when I turned back around, he was just gone."

Angel cursed. He should have said something, done something. Instead, he came right in here and hid - how typical. Angel rose and started to put on his jacket. "Doyle, you take the waterfront. I'll look in the sewers."

"Why the sewers? He's mortal now, why in the world would he go down there?" Cordelia wrinkled her nose.

"Because it's familiar. He's confused and hurting. He probably just wants to think."

"You are the thinking one out of the two of you. Spike? He would probably just go get drunk somewhere."

Cordelia was right. Spike wasn't one for brooding and deep introspection. He would want to go somewhere and lose his troubles. Add alcohol to a pissed-off 'Spike' and that could make things even worse.

"Fine. Doyle, you and I will take downtown. Not the clubs-the bars and lower-class joints. That's where he would feel most at home."

"Lead the way, boss."

Angel was suddenly overcome with a huge bout of fear. What if something happened to him? He was human - that was something Spike hadn't been in well over 100 years. With no chip to stop him, he could go back to his old ways. Drinking, brawling and whoring were the fall back lifestyle of his William. He was older now, though. He had lived on this earth a while, all over it, in fact. Even depressed, Angel doubted he would get into serious trouble. Then again, he would be drinking, and the constitution of a human was nowhere near that of a vampire. Angel sped up his race to get to the car. L.A. was in for a hurricane.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Spike couldn't stand it anymore. He waited for Cordelia to turn her back, and then he was gone. Angel came back and just blew right by him. Granted, he was probably as confused as Spike. "He's supposed to be the soddin' responsible one", Spike muttered under his breath, "and he's acting more bloody freaked than me." Was he freaked? Spike was no longer sure. It felt strangely right, having Angel kiss him. It assured him, and made him nervous at the same time. What did that mean? Surely, after all they had been through, not together, the past was exactly that. Spike had thought more about that past in the last 24-hour period than in the preceding 50 years. Mostly because his Sire was not with him during the 50 years in question. He had gained his soul, and left his childer in the dust. Spike did not become a master vampire with Angelus hanging around. He had to do that on his own. He took care of Drusilla, made sure neither of them saw the sun, and became a powerful Master Vampire in his own right. Even took out two Slayers, a feat he was very proud to be responsible for. Lately, he couldn't hurt anything but demons and his own kind. He had been begrudgingly helping a Slayer (all the while telling himself he was gathering information to use later), and now here he was in L.A. with his estranged Sire - fully human. Spike got out on the street before he realized he had never eaten. Strolling down the sidewalk, he spotted the cart Doyle mentioned earlier. What the heck, thought Spike. He was just about to order a hot dog, when he realized he was broke. *Damn*. Immediately, he started looking for a victim. He was about to grab an innocent-looking young boy and scare him, when he looked up at the sky.

The sun was shining.

It had fallen towards the horizon somewhat, but it still should have fried him. *On any other day*, Spike mused. Well, this raised the stakes a bit. He was quite used to being a vampire. Sure, eating was all fun, but the hobby of scaring the bloody crap out of Sunnydale citizens he picked up recently gave him a sense of being. He couldn't drink, which would never stop irritating him, however, he still got a laugh out of seeing them scatter like rats. Problem was, he hadn't actually hit a human in quite a while. Now, he was one. He had been a scrapper in his younger days, his human days. Fought, stole - whatever it took to survive. Spike had grown accustomed to not working at it. His vampiric strength allowed him to overpower any victim he chose. Now, he was going to have to do the dirty work. He might actually even get hurt in the process.

This was L.A., Spike reminded himself, home of gangs and all kinds of nasty human elements. Now that he was one, he had to fear them too. *Aw, bugger it.* Spike spotted another young male casually walking down the street. Spike fell into step with him, and started to follow. *Time to see if the old skills have faded.* Spike followed the boy for several blocks, his hunger pushed to the back of his mind as he concentrated on his victim. *Must be a tourist*, Spike realized. He was making all the classic mistakes. Walking slowly, looking at the buildings and scenery, never crossing the street, not looking behind or around him. Spike waited until the number of people on the street around them faded out, then he sped up to bring him in step with the man.

"Hey, mate, got a light?" Spike made sure they stopped right near an alley entrance. A quick glance up - it was deserted. Not even a bum. *Lucky devil you are, Spike.*

The man noticed Spike and looked surprised, and took a real look around for probably the first time that afternoon.

"Oh, uh, no sorry, man. I don't smoke."

"That's ok. That's not really what I was after anyway." Spike shoved the man into the alley. Before he could scream, Spike punched him in the gut, knocking the wind out of him. The stranger doubled over, and Spike used that moment to kick his legs out from under him. The man fell backwards, hitting his head on a garbage dumpster. "Well, that was easy." Spike smiled. Spike's smile was quickly replaced by a grimace of pain. Spike placed his hand on his head. *Surely it couldn't be...* Then, the pain was gone. Spike shrugged. The man would be out for a while. He didn't even check to see if he was alive. Grabbing the wallet out of his back pocket, Spike rifled through the contents. He came up with a drivers' license, a few rubbers, and $100. "Not too shabby. Hey thanks...mate." Spike pocketed the cash and pulled the unconscious man's body behind the dumpster. *Humans are heavier than I remember.* Spike grimaced. When he decided the body was effectively hidden, he checked the street. Thankfully, Angel Investigatins wasn't in a particularly great neighborhood. This was the lull time, between when the decent folks were locking themselves in, and the 'bad elements' were getting ready to start their day.

Spike strolled out onto the street, with a renewed sense of confidence. He hadn't lost a thing. He could still take care of himself, and have some bloody fun doin' it. Spike let one of his trademark smiles creep onto his face. It was going to be a good night. But first, he had to eat something! Rounding the corner, he encountered a row of small restaurants. The different smells assaulted his newly awakened nose. Spike had eaten human food several times since his being turned. It just didn't have the same affect on him as it currently was. After passing up a snotty looking French Bistro, Spike settled on the Italian restaurant he came to. It was still early and the restaurant was almost deserted. He chose a table in the back, and waited for the waiter.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Spike didn't recall a time he had enjoyed a calzone more, probably because he never tasted one as a human before. Smiling, he took off down the street. Time to find some 'fun'. Unconsciously, Spike found himself walking toward "The Pit", a notorious demon hang out he visited the last time he was in L.A. That was where he found Marcus. Silently, Spike stopped in his tracks. It was almost night, but not quite. Spike stood there on the pavement, staring down the different streets. Which way to go? In his heart, he wanted to go back to "The Pit". That's what he was - what he knew how to be. Sadly, he would be ripped to shreds after about two minutes. Spike looked in the other direction towards downtown. He had never minded the spotlight before. Finding a meal was easy in crowds. After the angry mob in Prague, however, he really wasn't all that comfortable in crowds.

Neither was Dru...

Dru.

Spike hadn't thought about her until now. *Well, now what would you think of me, luv?* He knew the answer to that. She would weep for 'her Spikey', and promptly try to kill him. 'Miss Edith' could be a real bitch. Spike realized he was crying when the lights he was staring at started to blur. He quickly wiped his tears away, and started towards the lights. He was really starting to hate humanity. He hadn't been human for even half a day yet and he had already cried twice. Spike hated crying. Crying had always earned him a beating. Wow. Spike walked faster. He didn't want to think about his family - his father, his brothers. None of that mattered right now. It couldn't matter. It was over a long time ago. He hadn't thought about them in years. He didn't kill them - much to Angelus' dismay. He ran into Angelus on 'holiday', away from his family. Angelus had tried to persuade him to go back 'for a visit', but Spike had declined. Why revisit that? Angelus told him that it would help him to lift the pain they inflicted in life. Yeah - whatever. Nothing could lift that. Spike had been sure of it. And he was right. His jaw was set tight, and his eyes bore straight ahead. He didn't really see anything. Not anything on the street, anyway. His mind was busy reliving his own personal hell. It seemed like only yesterday. Well, he supposed for his soul, it had been. Bloody hell, he was crying again.

Spike nearly ran over a bunch of girls standing in line. "Pardon me, ladies." Spike kept walking. He could hear the girls talking and giggling behind him. They probably thought he was crazy. He wiped yet another batch of tears from his face. This would not do - not at all. Spike needed a drink, now. He spotted a smoky bar across the street. No lines, just a few people hanging by the door. "My kind of place". Spike waited for an opening, and darted across the street. He shot a look at the guy checking ID's and slipped right through. The thought that someone would need to ID him was funny.

Striding up to the bar, he quickly ordered a beer. It was the weekend - no specials. Spike didn't care. Thanks to his 'friend' in the alley, he was set. He grabbed his beer off the bar and went to find a 'quiet spot'. He just wanted to be alone. He felt very alone. Spike took a long swig from his bottle and slid into a chair. He began to take mental stock of his situation. He, 'William the Bloody', Master Vampire and childe of the 'Scourge of Europe' was human. Spike still couldn't really wrap his brain around it. Why? Who or what could possibly want him human? It made no sense. He wasn't into the 'do-gooder routine' like his poofy sire. He seriously hoped The Powers That Be, as Angel called them, weren't expecting him to just jump through their hoops. Maybe his sire was ok with that game, but he was most definitely not. Then again, it was probably just his rotten luck. It had gotten much worse this past year. He had been content with Dru. She needed him, and he knew how to take care of her. They were happy, weren't they?

Spike looked at his empty bottle. He needed more alcohol. He returned to the bar and grabbed a stool. Beer just wasn't going to cut it. "Line 'em up, mate. Vodka." What the hell. He had that poor bastard's money; he could have his fun. Spike downed three shots without taking as many breaths. The fire that threatened to come back up was excruciating. His stomach was doing a little dance all by itself. Spike mentally thanked himself he only had one beer. This human thing was not going to do. Not at all. Right now, though, he was feeling a bit better. "Keep 'em coming." He missed this. You didn't need friends in a bar. Just a nice place to be alone - with people. He smiled. Yeah, this would do nicely for now. Just him, the stool, and bliss.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Angel was getting more anxious by the minute. Spike literally just disappeared. Doyle was sitting quietly next to him in the car. He could probably sense Angel's discomfort. What was he thinking leaving Spike like that? Angel's mind was conjuring up all sorts of nasty conclusions to this scenario. Spike was no longer a vampire. Where could he go? Angel felt reasonably certain he wouldn't be stupid enough to return to any old haunts he might have. He would be dead almost instantly. Demons weren't that stupid. Vampires were barely tolerated in most circles; humans were killed for food and sport. *No, Spike wouldn't go there.* Angel only felt marginally better. There were so many other possibilities. Then there was the nagging voice in the back of his head that asked him why he cared so much. Spike had not been his responsibility for many years. Why now should he suddenly care? "He's a lost soul for me to save," Angel professed quietly.

"He's not that lost. He's been around awhile, Angel. I don't figure he lost any brain cells in the transformation."

Leave it to Doyle to state the obvious. Angel relaxed a little. Of course! Spike was his childe, right? Angelus had taught him well. He had survived on his own for almost one hundred years. He would be fine. *Then why won't the lump in my throat go away?* Angel pulled off the side street and onto the main road. The lights were instantly brighter, but still no sign of the peroxide-blonde vampire.

"With that set of locks he's got, we oughta spot him quick." Doyle grinned.

Angel made a half-hearted attempt to smile back. They had travelled a several-block radius around Angel Investigations and no sign of Spike.

"Maybe we should try the on-foot method. He probably stopped somewhere to get dinner."

Again, score one for Doyle. Angel was feeling like Watson. "Yeah. I'll take the left side of the street." They parked in silence, and began their respective searches. The lump in Angel's throat was quickly being accompanied by a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach. He had checked restaurants on two different blocks and found no sign of Spike. He sprinted back to the car, hoping Doyle had better luck.

"No sign of Spike."

Angel shook his head in agreement. Doyle seemed to be just as worried. It wasn't real obvious under his stoic shell, but Angel was starting to panic. Before he had been mildly annoyed and worried for Spike's safety. That was slowly turning into full-blown paranoia. He had visions of Spike dead in an alley. Lying in a hospital bed. Without even realising it, Angel let his demon forth. He jumped and growled when Doyle put his hand lightly on his shoulder.

"We'll find him. I promise."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

*What was your name again?* Spike looked at the stranger sitting beside him at the bar. When he didn't get a response, he realized he never asked out loud.

"Wha was yer name 'gain?" It didn't come out the way it sounded in Spike's head. He mentally shrugged, which almost made him fall off the barstool.

"Sheorge." The bloke next to him was in no better shape than he was, and that was fine with Spike. He didn't really know what shape he was in, though it seemed kind of oblong. He just knew that he had to use the bathroom, but wasn't sure he remembered how. . He wasn't sure how he even knew that was what the problem was. He didn't think he could make it off the stool with any amount of grace. He just felt an incredible sensation in his lower abdomen that begged attention.

"Godda use the ressroom." Spike was so glad to hear that. It gave him the opportunity he needed. "Me's too. You lead." Spike started to do a little dance, which almost caused him once again to topple over. Luckily, George caught him. Together they made it to the bathroom. Spike had been in bathrooms in the last 100 years, so it wasn't a strange experience. In fact, he'd had some of his best meals in bathrooms. He started thinking about one in particular and burst out laughing.

"Wuz so funny?" George looked at him, and started laughing, too. As they tried to stop laughing, Spike completely forgot what he had been thinking about.

"Don't remember."

"Oh well."

Finishing their business, they turned to leave, and Spike caught a look at himself in the mirror. He had not seen himself in over a century. He just stared for a moment at the reflection of himself. Peroxide-blonde locks, pale complexion, thin lips. George must have thought he was crazy the way he just stood there and smirked at himself.

"Yah, yer a fuckin' chick magnet. Less go." George grabbed his arm and pulled him toward the door. Spike couldn't get the mental image of himself out of his head. He looked good! He looked intimidating. Bold. Scary. Spike had a momentary lapse of drunken bliss. He was truly 'The Big Bad'. Well, he used to be. Now what was he? *The Big Bloody Use-to-be*. Spike snorted. His new friend George looked at him and smiled.

"Looks like you needs 'nother drink." George slapped his arm around Spikes slight frame and led him back to the bar. "Janice! 'Nother round for me an my frien' here."

Janice was nice. She was pretty. Spike thought she looked like that chit on the telly...what was her name? Spike couldn't remember. He almost thought about asking her out after work....

"No way, George. I'm cuttin' you two off. I think you both need a cold shower and a whole bottle of Asprin."

"Janice, baby, you're killin' me! After all the goods time we've had."

"What good times, George? You mean last week? When you proposed marriage to me then puked all over my bar?" Janice shook her head. "Go home, boys."

George looked crestfallen, but he grabbed Spike's arm. "Let's go, Will. Janice here is a cold-hearted..."

"Watch it, George." Janice smiled slightly.

"yet carin', lovin' little woman." George smiled back, and silently led Spike out of the bar. Once out on the street, they looked around for something else. Not as much time had passed as Spike thought, and the streets were full of people. Spike had no idea what time it was. Since he hadn't even been human for a day yet, he wasn't tired - much. George, however, looked like he could fall over any minute.

"Yer lookin' a bit washed, mate." Spike smiled at George. He was a cool guy. Spike really didn't know anything about him, except that he worked in a 'crappy job for a thankless, no-good, stupid son-of-a-bitch.' Based on his hands, Spike was guessing some kind of manual labor. Probably one of the factories around L.A. George leaned over to look down the street, and proceeded to fall over. Spike tried to catch him, forgetting he was human, and fell on his face as well. It didn't really hurt. With all the alcohol he'd consumed, he barely noticed the skinned elbow he now possessed. He looked over at George to see if he was all right, and they both started laughing.

"Help ya up, mate?" Spike tried to get himself up, and sat back down on his ass.

George burst out laughing. Spike tried again to stand up, and this time he succeeded. He offered his hand and George grabbed it. George had about fifty pounds on Spike, and as he tried to have Spike pull him up, he succeeded in bringing them both back down in a heap on the sidewalk. Sitting there grinning at each other, they didn't notice the group of men walking down the street towards them.

"Aw, look at the lovers. Hey guys, the motels are down a few blocks." The group chuckled as their leader, a muscle-bound fellow, sneered at the two drunken men on the sidewalk.

"Sod-off. Ya could 'elp a mate up." Spike looked at the man. He was looking all neat and smug. *GQ*, thought Spike.

"Why? You two ladies look like you're quite happy where you are. I just wish you were in a motel. What's this neighborhood coming to? Now we have fags making out right here on the sidewalk."

Spike jumped up with a surety he didn't realize he possessed. How dare they! These wankers had no idea what was going on. It had been too long since someone had the nerve to pick a fight with 'William the Bloody'. Through his alcoholic haze, Spike really didn't remember about his forced humanity. He didn't care that the lot of them could kick his ass from there to the next block over. George had managed to pick himself back up as well.

"Will, it's not worth it. Let's go find us som'ore fun, eh?"

"Not worth it, my bloody arse!" Spike turned to the group of men. "Just who do you think you pillocks are, anyway? No one talks to me like that, mate." Spike 'sobered up' quickly. He always had a good fight response. Flight wasn't in his vocabulary. He stood his ground in front of the leader, challenging him. Every fiber of his being was ready for this. It was going to be his first fight, as a mortal, in almost a century. He loved this. He lived for this.

As the strangers' fist connected with his face, he realized he wasn't ready for this. It took him a moment to recover. *He hit me! The wanker hit me!* Spike shot the stranger a deadly look, and sent his fist flying towards his jaw. It connected, and his head went flying backwards. Spike felt a shooting pain and grabbed his hand. "Bloody Hell" he spat. George had been jumped by his two companions, but seemed to be holding his own. Spike went to raise his fist again, and got clocked in the stomach. He doubled over and sucked in a breath. Spike stood back up, grabbed the man's foot and went to kick him. As the man hit the ground, Spike felt the sharp pain again. This time, there was no mistaking where it was coming from. His Head. His bloody chip was still functioning! "Aw, bloody hell!" Spike placed his palm on his forehead. He wanted to just slice the skin open and take it out right there. Of course, he'd probably die, but what difference would that make now? This guy was stronger than him. If Spike could fight for real, he would wipe the floor with him. Chipped, Spike didn't have a prayer.

"What's the matter? Don't tell me you have a non-violence policy." The stranger gave Spike an evil smirk, and knocked his feet out from under him. He was about to kick him again when the police showed up. The three companions ran off, cops in pursuit.

"You ok, buddy?" The cop really didn't seem to care. *Just doin' their job, like always.* Spike couldn't bring himself to say anything. What else could possibly go wrong in his day? He was human, stuck in L.A. with Angel - and his soddin' chip still functioned!

"What the bloody hell did I do!" Spike screamed. The cop stood back, obviously confused. He tried to explain to Spike he had been jumped, and started asking questions about the men who attacked him. Spike answered as best he could, but his brain wasn't into it. All he could think was - *What the hell do I do now?* His manttra was interrupted by a familiar voice from above.

"What happened, officer?"

Angel. Spike chuckled inwardly. Of course he was here. This was his element. Spike was now just another soddin' wretch who needed 'saving'. Doyle probably had a vision about him, and the nancy-boy came running. Spike looked up. One billowy coat - check. One perfectly coiffed hairdo - check. Look of utter concern for 'victim x' - check. Spike laughed. He didn't realize at first, but he was laughing out loud. Angel and the cop looked at him strangely and he started laughing harder. He knew he looked like a looney, but tears were running down his face and he couldn't stop.

"I will take him home...."

Angel's voice was vague in the background. Something about taking him home and making sure he was ok. OK? *How the bloody hell are you gonna do that, mate? Give me a lecture about picking fights? Talk about how I can be a productive member of soddin' society? Cuddle?* Spike's brain stopped short at the last thought. In his not-quite-sober state, he couldn't deny the appeal that held for him. He stared up at Angel. Damn him. He still looked like his Sire. *You can change the clothes...*, Spike rolled onto his side and managed to get up. Angel was at his side in an instant, holding him upright. Normally, Spike would have shoved him away, but nothing about this day had been normal and Spike was happy to feel Angel's presence next to him. Angel finished answering the police officer's questions, and walked Spike back to 'The Angelmobile' in silence. Doyle was waiting for them and, in a move that surprised Spike, Angel threw him the keys and climbed in the back. Spike recovered from his shocked look, and crawled in next to him. Angel put his arms around him, and they were silent during the ride back. Somewhere in the journey, Spike fell asleep.

*****
Part 6:

Once again, Angel was carrying Spike, unconscious, into the office. *I'm noticing a trend, here* Angel mused. He looked around the spartan office and quickly headed to the elevator. Doyle was already two steps ahead of him, opening the doors.

"What would I do without you, man?" Angel smiled.

Doyle smiled in return and shrugged. "I dunno."

Angel gracefully stepped into the elevator and Doyle shut the doors behind him.

"Need any help?"

"No. I think we'll be fine."

"Alright. I'll check up on that demon that attacked us. Maybe if we can figure out what it was, it will give us a clue about Spike there. 'Nite, Angel." Doyle pushed the elevator button and it started its slow descent.

Angel fervently hoped it would be a good night. As he entered his apartment, he noticed for the first time how 'cold' it was. It was decorated, of course, and everything matched. Heck, there was even a fireplace. But it was the haven of someone who was alone. No personal photos. No trophies or awards, no favorite toy from when he was five. There was nothing personal at all. Angel shrugged off the strange notion and carried Spike to the bedroom.

"You know something? Not only are you a pain in the butt, you're a 'heavy' pain in the butt." Angel placed Spike on the bed gently, so as not to wake him. He need not have bothered; Spike was out like a light. Angel slowly manoeuvred the blonde's duster off and removed his Doc Martens. Spike chose that moment to roll on his side and curl up in fetal position. Angel stared at him for a few more moments, then headed for the couch. He really didn't want to be on the couch. He wanted to curl up right next to Spike, spoon him into his larger frame, and protect him from the evils of the night. Of course, Angel himself was an 'evil of the night', so he shuffled off to the couch.

Once again, he was alone. Normally the idea of being here, in his inner sanctum, was a comfort. No one could touch him here. He was safe. Unfortunately, he was not safe from his thoughts, and on this night, he couldn't escape them. He brought out his favorite book, and settled down to drown his thoughts. Instead, every turn of the page reminded him of William. He had taught the young Vampire to read, much to the reluctance of young William. He wanted him to be worldly and knowledgeable. Everyone around Angelus was neat, proper, and well mannered. The society that Angelus preferred moving in required it of their patrons. Angel stopped and stared at a particular discoloring in the paper. Even though it was old, the smell still lingered. The scent of William's blood. Angelus had not been patient, and William was a master at pushing his Sire's buttons. The young Vampire met with a strong backhand to his jaw. As the blood trickled down his lips, it splattered on Angelus' favorite book. His Childe was severely punished for allowing that to happen. Shutting the book in frustration, Angel stood up and began to pace. This wasn't getting him anywhere. Once again, his mind was drawn to the room. The almost empty mantle. The side tables that held up lamps and nothing else. Almost instinctively, Angel's mind began preparing for Tai Chi. It was the one thing that kept him sane. Stopped him when the urge to take a stroll in the sun became insistent. He ran through his routine, and was happy to see it had taken him all of two hours.

Now, however, he was right back in the same predicament. He wandered into the bedroom, to find his Childe in almost the same position. Angel stood in the doorway, and allowed himself the luxury of just wallowing in his selfish need to absorb the man on the bed. Their life together of late was too complicated for even the simple act of looking. Angel had glared, glowered, stared hard at; but never just 'looked'. It was nice.

He noticed a few changes in his boy. The wardrobe was the most glaring, of course. He had noticed it before, but he never really appreciated how it 'fit'. Spike had indeed turned himself into "The Big Bad", and it showed.

He still hated the hair. It detracted from his ice-blue eyes and that was a great tragedy in Angel's book. William had the most engaging eyes. They showed off every emotion. He couldn't hide from anyone, if they knew how to look. Spike made sure there weren't many around who knew how. Angel crept by the bed, and quietly dragged an old bag out of the closet. Afraid of waking his charge with further noise Angel sat on the floor in front of the bathroom and opened the pack with care.

In it were his most prized possessions. The ones he didn't dare let anyone know he had. Angel took a white ribbon out of the case and caressed it between his thumb and forefinger. Darla had given him that ribbon, for his hair. It was the first thing she ever gave him. He remembered how her fingers felt in his hair. She loved to play with it. He felt a bit sad that he cut it. Long hair was a pain to keep up, but having someone's loving fingers run through it passionately made it worthwhile. He gently laid the ribbon on his lap, and moved on. Next was a faded letter. He couldn't help the tears that sprung to his eyes. His Katey had written that letter to him, after he died. She believed he could hear her, and she let him in thinking he had come back to her, because she wanted him to. He had never actually read the words. He had tried, once. It was a gift from nature that it was cloudy the next day when he walked outside.

Angel just stared into the bag at the next item. He almost never took it out. It was Drusilla's dress. Angelus had always loved how it looked on her. Funny, after she was turned, she didn't want to wear it anymore.

He pushed the dress aside carefully and took out the little box at the bottom. Angel just stared at it for what seemed like eternity. He didn't really want to open it, but his subconscious was gnawing at him. So long, so long since he had cared to reminisce about it. Told himself countless times he didn't care, didn't want to know anymore. The past was after all, the past. It was rigid in its finality.

A moan from the bed ripped him fully back to the present. Spike was on his back, clutching the covers in his slender fingers; his face scrunched up in a pained expression. He was twisting back and forth, almost as if trying to escape something. Angel knew that nightmare. He had them for many nights after his soul returned - the memories of killing the innocent, of hunting and feeding. During the day it was easy to shut it off. Life gave you other things to think about. At night, in your dreams, there was no escape.

Angel stood there for a moment, watching his Childe. He couldn't stop thinking about him in that way. Even now, when he was so obviously not a part of Spike's life, he was still his Childe. His blood still called to him. Angel stood stock-still in the dark bedroom. He couldn't feel it. Couldn't 'feel' William's presence in his body, anymore. William was gone. He was there, right there in front of him on the bed. Angel could see his form in the darkness, hear his blood rush through his veins. But he couldn't FEEL him, anymore. Angel remembered how it had felt when he killed Darla. She was his Sire. He had been a wreck for a week. He never expected to feel anything like that again. This was worse. William was his! He never left him, not really. He had been his favored Childe. He relished carrying that small part of his remembered happiness around with him. How could he not have noticed until now? Angel was struck with a feeling of rage. How dare 'they'! Whoever 'they' were.

While Angel had been standing there, Spike was still moaning and mumbling in his fitful slumber. Angel took off his shirt and shoes, and climbed in next to Spike. As he gently spooned Spike's writhing frame into his larger one, he revelled in the life that coursed through him. His blood was singing to Angel. He could feel it, every vessel, every artery pumping the life through William. He rarely ever took the risk of being this close to a human. It was a powerful feeling - intoxicating. He wanted to drink it down. Wanted to make that beautiful life force part of his own. William sat up straight as a scream was ripped from his throat. Startled, Angel let him go. For several minutes, the only sound in the dark room was Will's labored breathing.

"What're you doin' here?" Spike turned slightly to look at Angel lying next to him.

"Watching over you." Angel slowly sat up, and put his hand on the younger man's back. "That must have been some dream." His hand slowly started rubbing circles on the blonde's back, and Will arched into his touch reflexively.

"Yeah, mate. You could say that." Spike brought his legs up, and hugged them to his slight frame. He bent his head, allowing Angel to rub the back of his neck. Nothing was said, nothing needed to be. Angel's large fingers were dextrous as they lightly brushed the peroxide locks at the nape of the boys neck. Encouraged by the acceptance of his ministrations, Angel brought up his other hand, and shifted so he was sitting on his knees behind William. Slowly, he began to massage his shoulders, then run his fingers lower, teasing the blonde's spine.

"Angel..." William relaxed from his huddled position and leaned back to rest on the broad shoulder behind him.

"I take it that wasn't a plea for stopping." Angel smiled in the darkness. He felt William turn around, but was pleasantly surprised when their lips touched. There was no rushing, no forced reciprocation. Angel let the younger man's lips do all the work as the kiss deepened. He had a brief thought about this being bad timing, but quickly dismissed it. It had been far to long, and with all the history between them, Angel doubted this could bring about his moment of true happiness. William obviously wanted this, and Angel was more than happy to oblige. He gently lifted Will's shirt up and guided it over his head. Throwing it on the floor, he hoped it would be the first of many articles of clothing to end up there. Not to be deterred from his task too long, Spike gently pushed Angel onto the bed covering him with his body. Their tongues duelled for several more minutes, neither party wanting to lose the magic being created between them. Finally, Angel took the lead, grabbing Will's jeans-covered ass in his palms and squeezing. That got a reaction, as Will broke the kiss to let out a moan.

"Angel..."

It was Angel's turn to moan when the ex-vampire began to kiss his neck and nip at the delicate flesh. Memories inspired the growing hardness in both nether regions, and soon William was rocking back and forth, creating subtle friction. Damn, it had been WAY too long. Angel grabbed at his partner's zipper, and shoved the jeans roughly down his legs. Will dutifully kicked them to the floor. Returning the favor, his lover helped him remove his now uncomfortable pants, and re-covered Angel with his smooth body. Angel thought he might explode right there from the delicious sensation of his cock rubbing against Will's thigh. In an effort to prolong their newfound joy as long as possible, the vampire propped himself up and flipped over, landing him on top. Slowly, he ran a fingertip down Williams sensitive ribs.

"Hey! That tickles!" He knew William was smiling - he could see it. He realized that the younger man no longer had the ability to see him, with his newfound humanity.

"Will, I want to turn the light on. I want to see you."

"You can see me just fine. What you mean is you want me to be able to see your glorious arse." Angel didn't miss the subtle hint of sarcasm in that statement. He leaned over and switched on the bedside lamp. God, he was beautiful. With the color returned to his cheeks, he was a delectable sight. His lips reddened and swollen from kissing, skin flushed from Angel's attentions. He was still pale, and he looked stark as ever against Angel's ruby red satin sheets. He looked "..like an Angel."

"Hey poof, isn't that my line?" The object of his reflections looked up at him and smiled. The mortal ran his hand ever so slowly around Angel's face. Fingertips tracing the hairline, and moving down to caress his lips. "You always were.." he murmured. "Always my Angel..."

The vampire bent down and silenced William's reverie. He wasn't sure he could take hearing any more right now. Angel just wanted to thoroughly enjoy William. Every inch of his skin, his hair - how it felt to be touched by him. Many things had changed over the century, but not this urge. Lately, all he was able to do was touch him in violence. A punch, a hit. The 'Angelus' side of him was ok with that, but Angel was not. This was much more up his alley. Thinking was getting in the way and the vampire shoved it to the back of his mind.

Body.

Warm body.

Will's warm body.

That was a thought he could deal with. Slowly he moved his lips and tongue further south on the human's chest. He could hear his partner's heavy breathing, and he took immense pleasure in knowing he caused it. As his tongue dipped into the soft, warm navel, his lover let loose another moan. Angel could feel the heat coming off him, the telltale signs of arousal were permeating the sparse bedroom. With no preamble, Angel took the head of William's cock in his cool mouth, and licked the pre-cum off. Moaning made way for gasping as he slid further down Will's shaft.

"Oh God.. Angel... yeeessss.."

He always begged. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but he loved it. And of course, it made Angel work that much harder. He loved to hear it. Angel had engulfed his partner's cock fully and was sucking with all his un-life. The gasping gave way to a scream as Will shot his warm seed into Angel's mouth. He sucked every last drop down, not wanting to remove himself from the situation. Finally, his mortal lover made the move for him, sitting up on the bed.

"Wow."

Reducing William to being monosyllabic was indeed an awe-inspiring feat. Angel was proud of himself. He knelt on the bed, in front of his lover.

"Yeah." He smiled tenderly at Will, and bent over to kiss him soundly on his swollen lips.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Spike could taste himself on his lover's lips and it sent a shiver up his spine. When had been the last time? Over a century he was pretty sure. He had been nervous Angel would reject his advances, but after the kiss they had shared earlier in the day he decided the poof wanted this as much as he did. Consequences be damned - that was his motto. Well, Spike's anyway. Bloody Hell, if that hadn't been his motto *back in the day* he never would have ended up falling head-over-heels for a bleedin' vampire in the first place. There really wasn't much of a difference between himself and his 'alter ego'. Just a repression of this feeling he was experiencing right now. The almost irrepressible love for the big ponce kissing him. He broke the kiss, almost reluctantly, for air and a question.

"What about you, Peaches?" He really didn't give Angel time to answer, as he got up on his knees as well, encircling the broad shoulders with his arms. He plundered the cool mouth with his warm tongue, delighting in the contrast. It had been even longer since he felt this particular sensation. It was almost like a dream - something in his memory he made up. Now he remembered, it was not a dream, but the beginning of one. One that turned into a recent nightmare. *Bad thoughts go away*. William let himself be swept back into the present by strong hands caressing his back. Slowly, he made his way to Angel's neck, and peppered his chest with feather-light kisses. He was rewarded by large fingers lodging themselves in his short locks. Showing the same amount of pretence, he licked up the entire length of Angel's cock with his warm tongue. The groan he got in response made him smile. That was what he wanted to hear out of his lover. Words weren't necessary. He took the vampire's cool shaft into his mouth, and started to bob up and down. More groaning, good. Experimentally, he scraped his blunt teeth across the tip of his lover's weeping cock, and elicited a scream from Angel.

"Will..."

His name came out almost gutturally from his lover's lips. He stopped his task, and looked up at the heavy-lidded vampire staring at him.

"What? Something wrong?"

"Oh, no. God no. I want you, Will. Please. I want you."

Spike couldn't have been happier if he had said he removed his chip while he was sleeping. Slowly, he rose and captured Angel's lips in a fierce kiss. He was panting when he broke the kiss, and backed away from Angel to search around for lube. It had been quite a long time since he had been fucked by a man, and he knew his new human condition was more delicate than his previous vampire status.

"Lie down, Will. I'll take care of it."

Angel's eyes held a hint of mischief as he looked at them. *What am I in for, now? Sod it* his brain decided. If Angel wanted his body that much, who was he to get picky over his choice in lubricants? He laid down flat on his stomach, and wedged a pillow under his hips to elevate himself. He heard the sounds of drawers being opened and a satisfied "a-ha!" from the corner of the room. Curiosity got the better of him, and he rolled over on his side.

"What am I in for, you bad-ass vamp" Spike gave his lover one of his famous smirks, that usually got him anything he wanted.

"Don't get over-excited."

He leaned over and smelled the oil that Angel had searched out. It faintly smelled of vanilla.

"Hum. Nice, suits you."

"Well, more like it will suit YOU here in a minute" Angel chuckled.

"Ha, bloody ha." He tried to get mad - slightly pouty even. It wasn't working. He settled for flopping unceremoniously back onto his stomach.

"No. Not like this. I want to see you. Else I could have just left the light off."

It was so sincere. *Wow, I forgot he can actually sound like that*. Without any prelude, William turned over and lay on his back staring up at his mate. Angel was gazing at him with a mixed expression. Will figured he was trying to put aside the same annoying thoughts that had been plaguing him all night, as well. *Where am I, and what have you done with the annoying, undead guy?* It worked the same, regardless of which party was thinking it. He hoped Angel would get over it quickly, and he was rewarded with another round of duelling with a cool tongue. He smelled the vanilla again, and then he felt it, as Angel placed a finger at his puckered opening. He drew in a sharp breath as his lover slowly, deliberately inserted one finger, then another. It hurt, it burned. But God, did it feel so good. It had been much too long; he had almost forgotten. Almost didn't remember the feelings his Sire could instil in him. He made a noise of disappointment when the fingers slipped out. Angel chuckled above him.

"Don't worry. I have something better for you.."

His legs were lifted slowly and placed on his partner's shoulders. Then he felt the head of Angel's cock pressing at his entrance. His eyes fell shut as he was swept into the sensation.

"Yes, Angel, yess...now..."

Coherent speech was lost as Angel entered him, gently filling him with his erection. He knew it would be slow and torturous. It had been too long, and as much as he craved to be shagged senseless, he knew his body couldn't handle it quite yet. When he had been filled to the hilt, Angel sat above him, waiting. He stared into the eyes of the only man he'd ever loved. *How, after him, could there be anyone else?* When he felt his muscles relax, he slowly began to move against his lover, letting him know he was ready.

Angel began moving against Spike, drawing almost completely out before filling him again. At this rate, he wasn't going to last very long. His cock had become hard again several minutes ago, and it already felt as if it would burst. Seeing his need, Angel moved a hand over, and began stroking him. Spike never wanted to open his eyes again. Why? This was the most perfect place in the whole universe. Colors burst behind his lids as his second orgasm of the night ripped through him. He felt Angel's orgasm as well, and then his lover lay down on his sweaty chest. Still, he didn't open his eyes. Angel rained soft kisses on his face and neck.

"Will? You ok?"

Such a soft-voice; so concerned. *Where have you been for the last hundred years, you bleedin' git?*

"Yeah. I just don't want to open my eyes. Don't want it to end."

Silence reigned for several minutes. Then he heard a sigh.

"Open your eyes, my Childe."

Hesitantly, William opened his eyes, and stared at the brown pools of his lover. "Yes?"

"I don't either. I don't want this to end either."

*****