Home, Sweet Home

E-mail: [email protected]

Disclaimer: I don't own the characters and all that. Mutant Enemy, Joss Whedon, etc. do.

Note: I was watching Darla and I saw the way Cordelia spoke to Darla. I thought, if I were her, I wouldn't assume I knew Angel better than Darla did. I mean, 150 year relationship, and she thinks, what, 5 years can compete? So I wanted to write a story that prioritised the Sire-Childe bond. I'm going with Dru as Spike's actual Sire here, but since Spike is of Angel's line, Angel can be called his Sire too. And remember, Angel was Spike's Yoda. :)

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

~Part: 1~

A familiar car rolled towards the kerb and stopped. Welcome to Sunnydale, said the sign, in an incongruously cheerful font.

"Home," said the driver, "sweet home."

Spike shifted back into gear and headed for the cemetery.

~~~*~~~

Elsewhere, a box was opened on a beach. At night. The captain of the boat that had dredged it up was somewhat surprised at this request, indeed entreaty, from the young woman who had somehow heard of his unusual catch. However, she was young, and pretty, and what a smile, so what the hell.

"Shame about the hair," he thought to himself. "With long, dark hair, now, she’d be a stunner."

Nothing had prepared him, however, for the shock of actually opening this monstrous metal casket.

Cordelia and Gunn lifted the barely conscious Angel out of the box and carried him to the car. It was going to be a long recovery.

~~~*~~~

Willow and Giles sat in Buffy’s kitchen, while Buffy put the kettle on. Cup of tea for the watcher, cup of very decaf coffee for the witch. The light pooled low on the counter, giving the room a late-night orange glow.

"So how was your flight?" asked Buffy.

"Fine, fine," replied Giles. "The usual horribly long and dry long-haul flight. Anything new on the hellmouth front?"

Buffy pursed her lips. "Nope. Nada. Zero. Zip. It’s been kinda quiet, hellmouth-wise. There was a nest in some old crypt in the cemetery, and a chaos demon rose near the mall, but that’s been the only big action for the last two months." She poured Giles’s tea as she spoke, failing to notice the effect her words had on Willow.

"The last big action since me."

Buffy stopped pouring, and looked at Willow with mortification. "Oh my God, I’m sorry Will."

"It’s okay. Really. We were big with the meditation in England. And the atonement. I’ve got it sorted now." Willow smiled her brave little puppy smile.

"Wow. Even down with the lingo. Sorted."

"Yeah, you hang around English guys, it sorta rubs off."

"Yeah," said Buffy, looking away. Something Willow did not fail to notice.

"So, Spike been around?" she asked, with as nonchalant an air as she could muster.

"No, nope, haven’t seen him, Clem’s still in his crypt," replied Buffy tightly.

"And you have no idea where he went?" Tea soaked into Giles’s blood, making him feel alive for the first time since the emergency instructions in Heathrow.

"Not a clue. Dawn’s been… she’s been missing him." Buffy’s eyes glazed momentarily, but were soon back in the present, looking with concern at her best friend.

"Buffy, I know we need to talk about this, but I’m so sorry. I – "

Buffy cut her off. "Willow, we can talk about it later. You’re tired. Drink coffee. Sleep. We’ll talk in the morning."

"Okay."

"Giles, the spare bedroom’s ready, if you want to stay there."

"No, thank you, Buffy, but I can stay in one of the rooms over the Magic Box. Anya said she left it ready. Very sweet of her, really."

"Okay. See you in the morning?"

"Bright and, well, probably very early. Jetlag."

"Not too early, some of us need our beauty sleep."

"Are you going to patrol tonight?"

"Quick sweep of the cemeteries, then bed, for that beauty sleep."

He smiled. "Goodnight Buffy. Goodnight Willow. Sleep well."

"’Night Giles."

"Goodnight already. I feel like a Walton." Buffy smiled as she opened the door for Giles.

"Tomorrow morning, then, bright and not too early."

"See you then."

As Giles left, Willow yawned. "Time for that beauty sleep," she said, muffled through her sleeve. She stood up and walked towards the stairs. Suddenly she stopped, and turned to look at Buffy, her face fallen and unsure.

"It’s okay, Wills. It’s still your room."

Willow smiled gratefully. Then she turned and quickly climbed the stairs, to hide the tears.

~~~*~~~

Cordelia and Gunn dragged and carried Angel’s prone body into the Hyperion.

"Elevator," said Gunn.

Cordy hit the 2 button. They finally got him to his room, which Fred had prepared after they had heard the report about the strange metal box on the news that evening. They laid him down on his bed. It was only then they could take a good look at the vampire. He was ghostly pale, far paler than usual. He was emaciated, his face all bone, his hands all knuckle. His clothes hung loose, like clothes on a corpse.

"I… oh my God, I thought it would take a lot longer for him to get like this." Cordy could barely speak through tears silently flowing down her face.

"Blood," said Gunn. "He needs blood."

"I’ll get it," said Fred. Anything but look at him longer. The hero brought so low.

Angel was neither conscious nor unconscious, constantly murmuring, words Cordy and Gunn could not make out. His eyes seemed huge and dark in his skeletal face, flicking open and closed, now and again appearing to focus but then glazing over as his starved mind drifted away. Cordelia was distraught. She had returned from her higher plane in order to save Angel, and she was determined to do so. But seeing him like this, it tore her inside.

But it was time for action, not feelings. Fred returned with three bottles of blood, heated to 98.6. She arranged them by the bed, as Gunn removed the cap from the first. Cordy sat behind Angel, and lay him against her as she held the first bottle to his mouth. First he smelled the blood, and then his mouth was on the bottle. Lifeblood it literally was. He drank without pause, and when he had finished the first, Gunn had the second ready for Cordy to give him. Again, the blood was gone in an instant, and again with the third. But at last he seemed a little better.

"Should I get some more?" asked Fred.

"No," replied Cordy, shaking. She ran a comforting hand over Angel’s matted hair. "We’ll wait for a while. See how he is."

"Yeah, best thing, I always get cramps when I do that," said Gunn.

"He’s been starving for two months!" Cordelia’s whisper was frantic.

"I know. I’m sorry. He’s gonna be fine, you know that, right?"

"No! How do I know? Look at him! We don’t know if he can come back from this!"

"’Course he can," said Gunn, his voice filled with mellow reassurance. "He’s got you."

Angel seemed to be asleep. The fact that asleep looked very much like dead was something no one commented on. After a while, Gunn and Fred left, leaving Cordelia cradling her Angel.

~Part: 2~

The graveyards were quiet as, well, the grave. The streets were free from evil nasties. Apart from human ones, of course, never be free from those. Willy the Snitch had no word of anything, and all seemed still. There was no evil a-brewing anywhere. Ever since Evil Willow, the hellmouth didn’t seem as inviting a place as it used to be for the big bad wannabes. Cross the Slayer, was the whisper in the underworld, and her friends could get you before she does.

It was a crisp night. Old leaves crackled under Buffy’s feet as she swept the last of the cemeteries. She was on her guard, but even her slayer senses told her there was no point. She sighed. It was good, really. No evil, that’s a good. Just a little boring.

As usual, at the end of her rounds, she swung by Spike’s crypt to say hi to Clem, who had somehow become Dawn’s friend. However, as she approached the door, she realised there was something different. She stopped. What was it? The light was visible in the cracks around the door, as usual. Ah, that was it. It wasn’t flickering tv light. It was normal lamp light. And she couldn’t hear the canned laughter that usually accompanied Clem’s sitcoms at this time of night. She walked on up to the door.

"What’s the matter, Clem," she said as she pushed the door open. "Friends not on tonight?"

She stopped. Clem wasn’t there. Spike was.

He stared. He wasn’t quite prepared for this, not yet.

She stared. She wasn’t prepared for this at all.

Spike cleared his throat, and lit a Marlboro menthol. The shake in his hands, he thought, well, that’s just from fatigue. He was just back from Africa, you know.

"Hullo, Buffy." He managed to speak.

"Spike. Hi. You’re back. You probably knew that."

"Yeah. I knew that when I had to kick Clem out in the middle of Titus. Man loves his sitcoms."

"Titus, ugh."

"Yeah."

There was so much to say.

"So, how are you?" asked Buffy. Her voice was dead.

"Fine. Good. You?" Spike was finding it difficult to look at her when he spoke, not knowing what expression to wear. That’s a first, he thought. Before, it was pretty much smug smile or hurt puppy. Before.

"Fine. Yeah. Willow’s back."

"Willow was away?"

"Yeah, in England. After Tara died, Giles brought her there, help her work a few things, you know, out." Buffy trailed off. This was too much. She felt like knocking down a wall or two.

"England, the old hunting grounds. Haven’t been there in decades." Spike managed a smile. But this was terrible. This wasn’t how he imagined it at all. Maybe it was time to take charge of the conversation. Just tell her. Buffy, I have a soul. Easy.

"So… where were you?" Buffy tried to disguise it as just another conversational gambit, but even she knew the futility of that.

"Where was I?" mused Spike. "Well, Africa."

"Africa."

"Yeah." Damn cigarette was nearly finished. He wasn’t sure she could do this without nicotine. What the hell, he lit another one.

"Isn’t it a bit sunny there?" Finally, a subject, something to talk about! Something to be vaguely sarcastic about. Even better.

"Not at night." Come on, tell her, you want to. Don’t do the dramatic thing. Don’t make her realise. Be straight up. Tell her.

"You just left! After…" Again Buffy trailed away. It came back to her in a flood, the bathroom, the pain, and most of all the fear. She strode towards him, threatening. He backed up.

"No wait, Buffy. Wait." This is it. Do it.

What was that? In his… no, not in his eyes. Her eyes. She could see through her slayer’s eyes. There was something different about this vampire.

"Buffy, in Africa…" Spike stammered. "In Africa, I went there because of, because of that night, and I…"

"I can see it." She held her hand to his chest, staring into those new eyes that could not look at her.

"I didn’t know that this would happen. I went looking for… I don’t know what I was looking for. But I found this." Spike drew in the smoke. Nice, calming, mentholated smoke. Then, slowly, finally, he could look at her again. And he saw she knew. She truly knew. He had made her realise, when he wanted to just tell her.

"I have a soul." There. He did it.

"I know. Why?"

"Why? Because it’s the only way I can – I can give you what you need." He flinched at his own words.

"What I need? You think you can just come back here and all is forgiven because you’ve got a soul?"

He stood up against her hand, pushing her back a little. "Well, that’s the way it works, isn’t it? Evil vampire, goes all soulful, change the name a bit, then all is forgiven, right? Happened before, I seem to remember. Though I am rather fond of Spike. Can we skip the name bit?"

"Wow, Angel taunts. Original."

"I’ve got a soul, not a frontal lobotomy."

"Shame."

"Forget it, Slayer. I’m tired, if you must know. I can’t…" His voice went from belligerent to exhausted in a phrase. "I can’t do this right now. Goodnight."

"Goodnight?! That’s it? Hey Buffy, I’ve got a soul, goodnight now? I don’t think so."

"Oh you don’t, don’t you? Then listen carefully once more, Slayer. I. Am. Tired. Go. Away. Goodnight. This is all just too much."

Buffy stepped back, towards the door. Her eyes never left his face.

"You have a soul."

"Yeah."

"You actually went and did this."

"Yeah."

"You fool."

"Yeah. Fool for love."

A frozen moment of eyes and a hope of tears, and she was gone. He ground out his cigarette with a heel and stomped downstairs to bed.

Home sweet goddamned home.

~~~*~~~

"Cordelia." Angel’s gasp woke her. She hadn’t slept much.

She looked down at his gaunt face.

"Cordelia," he gasped again, as she stifled a shriek. His face was ridged and his fangs were long and, she couldn’t help but notice, sharp. "Cordelia, blood. Now." His body was knotted, and his yellow eyes blazed in shadows like old ivory.

"Gunn! Fred!" Almost as she shouted, they burst into the room, bottles of blood at the ready.

"We were just bringing them up…" began Fred, when she and Gunn noticed Angel’s face. They froze.

"Cordelia, is it safe – "

She cut Gunn off. "Just give me the blood."

She grabbed the bottle and wrenched open the cap. He snarled as she put it to his mouth, more strength now in his swallowing. His body was still weak, but Cordelia could see a little more bulk; even with the small amount of blood he had imbibed he was regaining some of his strength. Another bottle, and then another, before the demon retreated and Angel’s face reverted to its human aspect. He gasped for air, as if his body needed it. Then, again, he calmed and fell asleep, her hands around him. At first his cold chest continued to rise and fall. The body does not forget. Then, as he fell into a deeper and deeper sleep, it slowed, became shallow, then stopped altogether.

Fred and Gunn stayed with Cordelia as Angel slept in her arms.

"He’s gonna be okay, right?" asked Gunn.

"Sure. He’s gonna be fine." Fred’s voice was full of the certainty she wanted to feel.

Cordy looked at them as she held up an empty blood bottle.

"He’s not going to get better on this."

"Pig’s blood? What then?" asked Fred.

"He’s been starving. He needs human blood. I need one of you to get some. Hospital surplus, stuff that’s too old to transfuse, or stuff that can’t be used for whatever reason. Maybe that will be okay, if we heat it. Get some."

"I’m on it." Gunn stood. "You two be alright here?"

"Sure. I’ll keep the pig’s blood flowing." Fred tried a laugh.

"You just take care. I’ll be back as soon as I can." With that he turned and left.

"Fred, maybe get some blood up here now, and the microwave, just to be prepared. And also, some chains. He was pretty growly." Tears welled up in Cordelia’s eyes. "We can’t take any chances."

Fred nodded and followed Gunn.

It was a long night.

~Part: 3~

It was a sunny day.

Anya hovered around her merchandise as Giles, Buffy and Willow sat around the table, cradling mugs of their chosen beverages. The Magic Box had been rebuilt, because Anya figured she could be a vengeance demon and a capitalist at the same time. Although it had to be said, sales were down with the lack of evil afoot. Still, the website was busy. Selling to the whole world! It was thrilling.

Willow loved to be back in the Magic Box, the smell of old books, the protective presence of so many amulets and magical items. Not, of course, that she could have anything to do with them for the moment. Giles said that in time – in a lot of time – she would probably be able to return to magic, try some spells, simple things, and that her dark side could be controlled through meditiation and practice. But not yet. Until then, she could just smell the smell of these old, happy books.

"A soul." Giles looked blank.

"Yeah."

"And… he seemed sincere? I mean, you believed him?"

"Giles, I could see it. I mean, I could sense it. It was there. It was like, like he was different, you know? I cold sense that he was no normal vampire."

"Well, he is no normal vampire, Buffy. Spike is a master vampire, with the blood of two slayers on his hands."

"Giles, I know that. But this was different. It’s like, when Angelus activated Acathla, but then Willow did the spell that gave him back his soul, I knew. I knew it was Angel standing there. And last night I knew that Spike was different, and it was the same kind of difference. He has a soul."

"Wow. Spike with a soul. So is he all William the Bloody Awful Poet again?" asked Willow, smirking at the image.

"Probably not," said Giles. "Angel is not like Liam, the human who became Angelus."

"But it’s like, his soul, right? I mean, Liam’s?"

"Oh yes, it’s the same soul, but after two and a half centuries of experience, there are of course changes in personality. In that way, Spike’s new soul is the soul of the William he used to be, but with the memories of a hundred and twenty years of experience as Spike."

"Which, stop and cringe at the concept," remarked Buffy.

"Quite," agreed the Watcher, as he sipped his Darjeeling.

~~~*~~~

Angel was getting angrier. His body was no longer famine-thin, and strength was returning with muscle. Soon it would no longer be safe to come near him when he needed more blood. His body had bulked up, but his skin was still white as polished bone and when his demon needed blood, it came to the fore, threatening with fangs and amber eyes. The pulse of a living, breathing human close by might be too tempting too resist, even if Angel’s soul tried to control the demon.

Cordelia hated to do this, but she had to.

"We’ve got to take him down to the basement, and chain him." There were no tears now. She was beyond tears. And she was going to do whatever it took to get Angel back. Fred and Gunn merely nodded as they moved around the bed to lift him.

The bagged human blood wasn’t working. He was still starving. It was as if they were giving him nearly enough, but not quite. Cordelia knew this was not the case, however. What the blood was missing was a heart pumping it into his mouth. It was not quantity that Angel needed, it was blood straight from a human jugular. Surely only that would restore him to his normal physical and mental state. That much seemed obvious; he was a vampire. But the one thing she could not figure out was why. He had starved before, she knew, in the years after he left Darla in China, after he had abandoned the residents of the Hyperion, before he met Whistler in New York. And two months – how could two months bring him to this state? Surely it would take longer. Vampires were hardy creatures, strong enough to survive this kind of drought. Why was this so different?

They had carried him, in a quiet phase, on a stretcher from his suite, down the opulent staircase and through the lofty lobby of the hotel to the basement. There they chained him to the wall. At first he hung limply, but soon he woke. He thrashed at the chains holding him, lacerating his wrists. With such torsion in that powerful body and his marble skin, he looked like a Michelangelo animated and angry. They could hear what he was saying now, too.

"My son!" he roared at them, at the walls, at the world. "Bring me my son!"

They needed to rest. There was nothing they could do. They climbed the stairs and sat in the lobby of the Hyperion, exhausted, barely noticing the coffee in their hands.

"How do we do this? How do we get him back?" asked Fred in a voice even littler than usual.

"I wish I knew. Man, we don’t even know where Connor is. How we supposed to bring him here?"

"Okay, here’s the plan." Cordy took charge. "Gunn, go look for Connor. I don’t know how. Just… see if you can trace him. Fred, you stay here, help Gunn, stay in phone contact."

"Okay. What’re you gonna do?" asked Gunn.

"I am going to call in some backup. We can’t do this alone. We can’t give him what he needs"

"Who are you going to call?" asked Fred.

"The only person – well, non-person – I know who can. I need Giles’s number. He’ll know how to contact Spike."

~~~*~~~

Buffy and Willow were back at the house, sitting on the porch. Crickets chirruped, and night animals made hushed sounds in the bushes. It was cool, and the stars were bright.

"Willow, you don’t have to explain. At least, not yet, if you don’t want to."

"But Buffy, I can’t stand what you might be thinking of me!" said Willow plaintively.

"Don’t worry! I can imagine what you were going through. I remember how I felt when my Mom died. I felt so helpless. You weren’t helpless, and so you took out all that rage." Buffy moved closer to Willow and put her arm around her friend’s shoulders. "I can understand that. Seeing Tara dead…"

"I killed him. I killed Warren. I never, ever thought I could do that. And I would have kept on killing if it wasn’t for Xander." Willow stared at the ground in grim recollection of the events two months before.

"Giles tells me you’re back in control now. That you won’t use that kind of magic again."

"That’s what I thought before. How do I know I won’t use it again? If anything were to happen to you, or Dawnie, or Xander, how do I know I could control it?" Willow looked at her friend for an answer she didn’t have.

"I don’t know. I don’t know," said Buffy quietly, hugging Willow more closely. "But there is one person who could help."

~~~*~~~

"Angel?" said Giles, removing his glasses. "Ah, there could be a problem there."

They were back in the Magic Box. It was late, but Giles was still up. Anya was somewhere upstairs, where she now lived.

"C’mon Giles. Willow wants to control her dark side, he does that every day. Who could be more qualified?"

"I don’t for a moment question Angel’s suitability as mentor in this situation. However, now is possibly not the best time." He hesitated. This was somewhat confusing, he had to admit.

"Giles? Spill," said Buffy, in a tone reminiscent of many scenes in the library of Sunnydale High School.

"Well, you see, Cordelia just called from Los Angeles. She wanted to get in contact with Spike."

"Spike? Why would Cordelia want to call Spike?"

"She wouldn’t explain much, in fact she seemed quite distraught. She would only say that Angel has been in a box all summer, and they need Spike’s help, and could he come to LA as soon as possible."

"A box? What does she mean, a box?"

"As I say, she wouldn’t say. I didn’t even have time to tell her of Spike’s new, um, development." Giles replaced his glasses. "However, it seems that Angel is indisposed. But I suggest we call Spike immediately, then all four of us can go to LA. Perhaps we can help too. And Willow, if he recuperates, perhaps you can talk to him then."

"Damn straight we’re all going. Angel in a box! I never know anything that happens with him anymore. What other surprises will we find?" Buffy stormed out of the Magic Box. "Spike. She calls Spike! Hello, Slayer? Maybe I can help? But no, she calls that …" Her muttering died away as the door swung shut behind her.

Anya appeared from the back of the shop. "You’re going?" she asked. "For how long? I enjoy your company."

Giles kissed her briefly on the lips. "And I yours," he replied. "I’ll be back soon." He kissed her again, then went upstairs to get things together for a few days in LA.

Anya looked at Willow, shrugged, and smiled a big smile.

Willow raised her eyebrows, smiled back, and followed Buffy outside.

~~~*~~~

Spike drove. They swung back by the house to pick up some stuff, and then out on the road for LA. Buffy sat beside him, and Giles and Willow dozed in the back seat. Buffy stared out into the blackness for miles. She could see the glow of the city rising up ahead. Spike chainsmoked with the window down, frowning all the while.

About halfway to the city Buffy finally spoke.

"Why does Cordelia want you to come to Angel?"

"Dunno, pet. Ask the Watcher."

"He doesn’t know."

"And he told me." Spike nonchalantly tossed a cigarette butt out the window.

"You have a soul."

"Yeah."

"So don’t litter."

Spike looked at her, incredulous. "Let’s go through it again, shall we? I have a soul, but I’m still me. Spike. Maybe no longer the Big Bad, but I’m not the Great Poofter either. Okay?"

"How come? How can you just sit there, remembering the things you’ve done?" Buffy stared with real incomprehension.

"Firstly, even I will admit that I was never Angelus. Just didn’t have his gift for prolonged pain. Me, I preferred it fast. Give me a brawl over torture any day. But Angelus, well, he really went for the gusto, you know? I don’t have a century and a half of that kind of evil behind me. Secondly…" he stopped.

"What?" said Buffy, impatiently.

"Secondly, I believe in the nature of things. Vampires kill. Vampires are soulless, remorseless, and we kill indiscriminately. I am not going to feel sorry for doing things it was in my nature to do." Spike sighed. "And I use the past tense purposefully. I do admit things need a bit of a rethink now. But anyway, I’m still chipped, so it’s a pointless question at the moment."

Buffy simply continued to stare.

"You know I was never as bad as all that, Slayer. And I was sorry, you know, even before. I mean, I hated myself. That was why… Anyway. I’m sorry is all." He stared steadily at the road ahead.

She knew what he meant. That scary night. If there’s one thing more terrifying than all the hosts of hell, surely that thing is rape. And yet, looking at him now, a number of things became clear. Firstly, he stopped himself. He didn’t do it, and he could have. Secondly, he had a soul now. She could no longer, in all good conscience, dismiss him and treat him like dirt as she had for years. And lastly, she used him too, for sex, for comfort. But only when she wanted it. She had to ask, when it came right down to it, did her treatment of him not also amount to abuse? All the love was on his side, and she took advantage. Now that he had a soul, these things became far more pertinent. Being forced to see Spike as something close to human. It made her look at things in a different light.

Flickering miles passed on the dark road.

"I’m sorry too."

It was barely a whisper, but he heard her.

~Part: 4~

Giles awoke with a start as the engine stopped. They had arrived. He nudged Willow, who sat up and yawned.

"Nice!" she exclaimed, albeit sleepily, when she saw the elegant façade of the Hyperion. "No fair. He always lives in the coolest places."

"Him and his courtyards." Spike threw his eyes up to heaven. "Crypt does me nicely, great big poofter," he muttered.

They got out of the car and stretched in the cool pre-dawn air. Spike took the bags from the trunk, and they made their way into the hotel. It was pretty imposing, Spike had to admit. This kind of bastion suited his sire perfectly. Angelus always loved the show.

He shouldered the door open, and gaped. What a place. What a show.

Then he tried to walk through, and couldn’t.

"Hey! There’s humans living here too?" Spike looked affronted as the others filed past him into the lobby, all registering their appreciation of Angel’s place of residence.

"Hey, hey!" said Spike. "How do I get in?"

A petite thing with mousy hair and a mousy expression came up the stairs towards the door.

"Come on in, Spike," said Fred.

Spike stepped through, and took a beat to smirk at this new LA scooby.

"Well, well. He usually goes for blondes."

Cordelia came through the door from the basement. Spike looked amused.

"And I guess she knows that."

Buffy shot him a look.

"Cordelia." Giles was the first to greet her. She looked so tired. "We came here as quickly as possible. I trust you have enough rooms for all four of us?"

"Sure," replied Cordy, gesturing to the space around her. "Hotel. Spike."

Spike was lighting a cigarette in his usual lazy ritual. "Yes, pet. You called?"

"I did. And the first thing I’ll say to you is move a step out of line, and Gunn here will stake you. Understand?" Cordy pointed to Gunn, who stood near the reception desk, stake in hand.

"Well look here. A whole new set of scoobies since I visited last. Multiracial, too. Wow, kudos. Whatever happened the handsome young Mick?"

"He died."

Spike hesitated. "Ah. I meant of course to say Irishman."

"Save it, Spike."

Buffy cut in. "Cordelia, where’s Angel?"

"Buffy, hi. Willow. Giles. This is Fred, and that’s Gunn. Angel is in the basement." Cordy did not move to invite them down.

There was an awkward moment of silence.

"And what do you want me for?" Spike stepped forward, drawing on his cigarette.

Cordy drew a long breath, her tough exterior finally showing cracks.

"I guess you’d better come on down."

She turned and opened the door. The gang went to follow, when Spike stumbled, holding his head.

"What the fu… what’s happened to him?"

Then they heard the snarls and growls, and Angel calling for his son.

Spike stared at the open door ahead of him in shock, then strode towards it and led the way down to the basement.

"I’m coming!" he shouted.

~~~*~~~

He took the stairs at a bound, and in a moment was by his sire’s side. Cordy, Giles, Buffy and Willow could only stare as Angel’s face smoothed, his fangs retreated, and he smiled. Spike held Angel’s face and stared into those big, brown eyes. He could barely disguise his shock and pain at seeing Angel so weakened.

Angel leaned closer to Spike until their foreheads were touching.

"My son." He smiled. "Oh, I’ve missed you."

"Oh God. Angelus. What happened to you?"

"William, I’m hungry." His demon face slipped to the fore again with a growl. "I’m so hungry." Angel’s powerful arms strained at the chains as he pulled closer to Spike.

Spike spun to face Cordelia. "What happened to him? What did you do? And take these fucking chains off!" He began to pull at the chains, which were attached to a steel loop overhead. They wouldn’t come loose.

"Get the keys, Cordelia!" She could not argue. It killed her, too, to see Angel tied up that way. She took a single key from her pocket and handed it to Spike.

Angel fell into his arms. Spike held him upright, and moved back towards the stairs. He walked past the others and brought Angel back up to the lobby.

~~~*~~~

Light was seeping into the sky. The birds were chirping, the sun was rising. The rich smell of coffee floated into the lobby from the office. Gunn and Fred were laying out mugs.

Spike sat on a couch with Angel. The daylight seemed to have drained the strength from his sire, who now lay against him. Spike wrapped an arm around Angel’s powerful frame, part of him in awe at being this close to Angel again after so long, another part enraged that is was possible, that something could have made Angel so weak.

Buffy, Cordelia, Willow and Giles sat on various chairs and poufs around the two vampires. Soon Fred and Gunn joined them, handing out the coffee. Spike absently stroked Angel’s hair as he stared at Cordelia and waited for her to explain.

Cordelia stared at Spike, waiting for him to explain.

"Right, well, as this could go on for some time, perhaps I should begin?" Giles paused. When there were no objections, he continued. "Spike has a soul. Willow killed a murderer called Warren and almost destroyed the world. I’ve been working with her in England trying to control her dark power, and she came here hoping that when Angel recovers he can help her. I see now that that will be a lengthier process than any of us had anticipated after your phone call. Now can you tell us what happened?"

"And why is the Slayer here?" asked Cordelia, her arms folded.

"I thought, maybe I could help. With whatever it was." Buffy looked a little lost.

"Do you still think you can?"

"Well, maybe, I mean, we don’t know what’ll …" She trailed off. "I’m here because it’s Angel."

"And what do you know about Angel these days, hmm? Let me tell you about Angel. Angel had a son, Connor, with Darla, who was resurrected by an evil lawyer firm. I know, impossible, but there it is. The son bit, not the evil lawyer bit. Darla staked herself to save Connor. Angel and I raised him here, but when he was just a few months old, Wesley – remember him? – took Connor away because of a false prophecy that he would be killed by Angel. Angel tried to kill Wesley because of it. Connor grew up in a Hell dimension with Angel’s mortal enemy, Holtz, and returned when he was all teenagery. Then he thought that Angel had killed this guy Holtz, so he trapped him in a metal box and dumped him in the sea. We found Angel last night after two months in the box, but we have no idea where Connor is. Until two minutes ago we thought Angel meant Connor when he said ‘son’. Oh, and I’m a half demon."

Beat.

"Wow, and we thought we were busy in Sunnyhell," remarked Spike.

"You’re a half demon?" Giles looked fascinated.

"Yeah, to deal with the visions"

"The visions you received from the Powers That Be to guide Angel."

"That’s right. And he has a soul?" Cordy looked quizzically at Spike.

"Yeah," said Spike. "Now go back to this box bit. What kind of box?"

"No, wait!" interjected Buffy. "Angel has a son?"

"Yes, with Darla. Who is now dead. Again."

"But that’s – that’s impossible, right Giles?"

"It should be, but I, I assume Cordelia is not misrepresenting the case. Any idea how it happened, Cordelia?"

Cordy rolled her eyes. "The normal way, Giles. And the PTB needing some kind of Messiah, or whatever. It doesn’t matter. Now, if we could get back to the matter at hand?"

Buffy just sat, looking stunned.

"Yeah," said Spike emphatically. "Tell me about this bloody box."

Cordelia raised her eyebrows.

Spike gestured impatiently. "Specifically, was it coffin-shaped? Because if it was, and he was in it for two months, then this isn’t surprising."

"What’s not surprising?" asked Gunn. "This whole bloodlust thing he’s goin’ through?"

"Right. The whole bloodlust thing," said Spike dryly. He looked back at Cordelia.

"Yes, it was coffin-shaped. It was a metal coffin."

"And I think you’ve got some inkling of what that means. Else you wouldn’t have called me."

"Yeah. I think I do. Much as I hate to say it, he needs your help. I guess that’s what he was trying to tell us, calling for you."

"Me." Spike gazed at his sleeping sire. "His son." He closed his eyes, breathing in the smell of Angel. A small smile played on his lips. Bloody hell, was he loving this. Sitting here, all these humans ranged around him, his sire in his arms. His sire who’d been calling for him. For William. His boy.

Willow cleared her throat. "Um, still kinda stuck on the Angel has a biological son thing, but moving on for a minute, what are you guys talking about? Why was Angel calling for Spike?"

"I second all of that," chimed Buffy.

Spike and Cordelia locked eyes. Then Spike looked around at the others. Faces still not sure what to make of the two vampires on the couch, or of what had happened in the previous ten minutes. Well, he thought. Enlightenment time. Time these humans learned what vampire family was all about.

"Angel was stuck in a box. You know what that’s like for a vampire? To go back to that time, when you’ve just woken up, you’re all in the dark, and all you feel is the absolutely overwhelming desire, no, need, to get out of that thing? Buffy. You know."

Buffy nodded.

"Now, imagine not being able to get out. Imagine feeling like that for two months. And getting hungrier and hungrier and lonelier and lonelier every day and night." There was silence as all present digested the images.

"A vampire can’t just bounce back from that kind of starvation and solitude. There’s only one thing that can cure almost anything for a vampire, and it’s what Angel needs now." He paused. He relished the drama. "Real, warm, red, pumping, human blood. Straight from the neck. He needs to feel the heart slowing, he needs to feel that control again." He looked at Cordy. "And you reckoned I’d be the vamp to help him."

Cordelia nodded. Everyone stared. Giles even removed his glasses.

Spike continued. "But now I’ve got a soul. And I’ve still got a chip."

"Chip?" said Cordelia.

"Yeah. Rupes left that out of his brief summary. Can’t hurt humans. Haven’t fed properly in two years."

"Two years? That must have been just after you came here for the…"

"Gem of Amarra, yeah."

"So you’ve got a soul and a chip. Jeez, if I’d known I would’ve called Dru."

"Hey, I can still help."

"How?"

"I’ll bring him out hunting. We’ll be just fine."

"But you can’t hunt! Soul?!" exclaimed Buffy.

"Didn’t stop our Angel here, did it, in China. Evildoers." Spike laughed. "You know, Darla got so mad at him! Murderers and rapists. I’ve never seen her so furious." He stroked Angel’s face fondly. "So that’s what we’ll do now, huh, sire? Find you some evil murderer? Yeah."

"How can you tell the murderers and rapists?" asked Willow.

"Oh, we can sense them. Someone who smells of another person’s blood. Violence in the eyes. Yeah. We know. We’ll find ‘em."

There was a general sense of discomfort.

Giles broke the silence. "And who, if I may ask, are you to judge who should live and die?"

It was Cordelia who replied. "It’s Angel or some bastard who just beat up his wife, or killed some other guy, or whatever. I think the world is better with Angel in it."

"There’s just one thing you haven’t thought of," said Spike. "The moment of death, when a vampire feeds, well, that’s a moment of perfect happiness. I know, I know, but it doesn’t matter how much it disgusts you. It’s a fact."

"So you’ll have to stop Angel drinking before that." Cordelia was adamant. "I mean it."

"Hey, now I’ve got a soul, I don’t want Angelus back any more than you do. What he would do to me alone… Anyway. Yeah. So with my chip, I can’t start it, but he can. With his happiness clause he can’t finish it, but I can. We’re the perfect pair." Spike laughed at the symmetry.

"You’re still a sick man, Spike," said Buffy.

"I’ve got my sire back, Slayer. Not even you can spoil this moment. Now, Cordelia. Where does he sleep? We’ve got a busy night ahead. Need our eight hours."

Cordelia showed Spike to Angel’s suite. When she left, Spike laid Angel on the bed. Then he took off his boots, and collapsed into an armchair. He sat and watched his sire sleep, until sleep claimed him too.

Downstairs, six humans sifted through the events of the previous night, the previous year, hell, the previous three years. But it all seemed too much. It just didn’t come in bitesize. After a while they too drifted to different rooms in the hotel.

Soon, the Hyperion slept.

~Part: 5~

Spike awoke in the late evening. The window was almost dark. There were sounds and smells coming from downstairs. The humans were up and about, with food. Angel was still asleep on the bed. Spike stretched. He pushed himself out of the chair and went to Angel’s kitchenette. There was blood in the fridge, and a microwave. Ah. Breakfast. Human, too! A bit off, but miles better than pig.

He heard Angel begin to breathe. He’d be awake soon. Spike put another bag of blood in the microwave.

Angel woke with a growl. Spike was on hand with a couple of pints of warm blood. It sated the demon, for the moment.

"Ah, Spike, my boy." Angel smiled. Spike’s face lit up.

"Yeah, I’m here."

Suddenly Angel was overcome with a spasm of pain, and his demon face slipped into place again.

Spike stood up. "Right, time to get moving then, is it? You stay there, I’ll get you some clothes."

He walked over to the wardrobe. "Black shirt, black shirt, ooh, dark purple shirt, black shirt, blue shirt, black shirt black shirt black shirt. Well, you’re a man of many colours, Angel, just like me. Right, let’s go with a black shirt, shall we? And black pants. There we go. Put these on, then we’ll get your billowy coat, and we are ready to go." He laid the clothes over the back of the chair and helped Angel up. "Got my duster back from the Slayer, too. We’re gonna look right smart, Sire." Spike grinned, helping Angel into his black shirt.

Angel’s face reverted to its human aspect as he regarded his childe.

"We’re going hunting?" he whispered.

"That we are. Don’t worry, only evildoers, promise." Spike wrapped his arm around Angel’s waist and helped him to the door.

Angel put his arm around Spike’s shoulders. "You’ve got a soul now, boy." He looked sidelong at Spike, a wry smile on his mouth.

"Yeah. Knew you’d notice."

~~~*~~~

The gang were in the lobby when they came downstairs. Empty pizza boxes marred the elegance of the space somewhat. The already sparse conversation faded completely when the vampires appeared. Angel was still managing to control the demon so his face was human, though pale and haggard. Spike’s eyes sparkled.

Cordelia walked over to where they stood. "Angel, be sure you want to do this."

Angel’s control crumbled and once more his vampire face took over. "I have to do this, Cordelia."

Buffy came towards Spike holding his duster. "Here," she said. "It wouldn’t be the same without this."

Cordelia took hold of Angel’s arm as Spike took his duster and put it on.

"Thanks," he said, looking the Slayer in the eye. "Angel," he said, turning. "Can you walk?"

"I think so, but stay close," he growled.

"Right here, Sire."

"And remember, Angel," said Cordelia gently, "don’t finish. Spike, don’t let him finish."

"Got it. I'll take his leftovers. Nothing new." He didn’t look at Buffy.

"Bye Cordelia," said Angel hoarsely. "We’ll be back… be back soon." He attempted a smile through the fangs.

She smiled back. "See you then."

Spike and Angel walked out of the Hyperion.

Giles, Buffy, Willow, Cordy, Fred and Gunn sat and waited. After a while, Gunn got out the Scrabble. It passed the time.

~~~*~~~

Angel and Spike roamed the darkened streets. Lights pooled on the pavement, streetlights, neon lights, lights spilling from doorways and windows. Angel’s energy was increasing with every step as the excitement of the hunt woke his mind. Soon they found themselves stalking through the streets, black coats billowing, brushing past mortals as they searched for the one who would start their feeding tonight.

Spike found Angel’s proximity intoxicating. Every now and then Angel would throw him a growl, as they considered various humans they passed on the street. It sent shivers down his spine. They hadn’t hunted side by side like this in a hundred years.

In less than an hour they had found their man. He was in his fifties, though still trim. He had the smell of fresh blood on his skin, not his own. It was young blood, a girl, maybe not even a teenager yet. Angel had first picked up the smell. They trailed him for a while, to make sure they weren’t mistaken. They didn’t want to accidentally kill a paediatrician or some poor father whose daughter had fallen off her bike and bled. But after a few minutes they were sure that if this guy ever did any surgery, it was the DIY kind that ended up as headlines.

Soon the street became dark and lonely enough. Spike let Angel lead.

And lead he did. It was breathtaking, figuratively, to watch him once more become the hunter, the predator. He slipped into the shadows, silently stalking his oblivious prey. Then it came, the moment. He sprang, and pinned the man to the wall. He sank his fangs in. Spike watched his body tense as he drank, watched the man’s face cloud with shock, then, as they always did, surrender to the inevitable. Spike recognized his cue.

He pushed Angel aside. Angel growled, but made way. Spike covered Angel’s fang marks with his mouth and sucked the last of the blood. When he felt the heartbeat stop, he let the man fall, crumpled, to the ground. Spike leant against the wall with the heady rush of human blood in his veins again for the first time in two years. He looked at Angel. His sire’s face had returned to its human aspect, but his eyes twinkled, and some colour had returned to his face. He breathed heavily.

Spike grinned. "Feeling better?"

"A little," said Angel. "I’m thinking, a couple more of those, and I’ll be my old self again."

"Oh, I hope not," said Spike.

"Well," replied Angel in his low, lusty voice, "almost my old self."

He grabbed Spike’s arm and headed on. They moved back towards the more populated streets, staying in the shadows, scanning the crowds. They found her near a bar. She was carrying a smart suitcase, and wearing a shirt with tiny specks of blood still drying into the fabric. Male blood. Boyfriend, maybe, or husband. Would explain the getaway bag. Again they stalked, looking for signs that the bloodshed was vicious and unprovoked, and not from self-defense. Their heightened senses could read body language far more subtly than clumsy human intuition. This woman, they soon saw, was guilty of murder in the first. And it wasn’t the first time.

And so Spike again watched his sire become the predator. He skimmed from shadow to shadow. However, this time he let her know she was being followed. She tried to speed up without obviously trying to escape, but the vampires easily kept pace. Spike and Angel came up on either side of her and grabbed an arm each. She looked frantically from one to the other.

"Who are you guys? You don’t look like cops!" She was scared of them, but also scared to scream.

They steered her into an alley. Angel stood in front of her and vamped out.

"No, not cops." He let her feel the fear before he sank his teeth into her neck.

Spike stood close behind Angel, waiting until the woman’s eyes went blank before again pushing his sire aside. Again Angel snarled, wanting more, but he pulled away and let Spike finish it. He kept close, though, lapping at the blood that flowed down her neck, brushing against Spike’s face as he did so. Again, Spike felt shivers in his spine that reached right down into his groin.

He let her drop as she died. He turned to his sire, whose eyes flashed amber in a face that was so much changed. Angel was well on the way to recovery. His flesh was again flesh-coloured, albeit vampire pale, but not starved vampire pale. His very demeanour was reinvigorated, rejuvenated. And he filled that billowy coat as dramatically as he ever had.

Angel put his arm around Spike and drew him close. "Well, my boy, one more, and I think we’re done."

"Whatever you say, sire," replied Spike with a smile.

~~~*~~~

They found the last one easily enough. He was young, handsome, and stank of blood and vaginal fluid and someone else’s fear. They followed him until he turned off a busy thoroughfare onto a quieter and darker street. Spike caught him by the shoulder and spun him to face the two vampires.

"All yours, Angel," he said.

Once more Angel growled and sank his fangs. But this time he turned as he did so, and drew Spike’s ready mouth onto the other side of the victim’s neck. Spike bit in, knowing the chip wouldn’t kick in once the victim was already marked for death. And marked he was. The two vampires swallowed simultaneously, Angel snaking his arms around their victim to hold on to Spike, and Spike running his hand through Angel’s hair to hold the back of his sire’s neck. They felt the blood pump down their throats until the heart slowed … and slowed…

As the body fell, Angel collapsed against Spike.

"Oh God. Oh no."

For a moment, Spike couldn’t figure out what Angel meant, so bathed was he in the afterglow.

Then he realized. Angel had finished. He’d been there for the death. He’d felt perfect happiness.

He held Angel’s shoulders and looked into his eyes. "Well?" he demanded. "Soul still there, or what?"

Angel gasped. "Yeah, still here. But last time – with Buffy – it took a while."

"How long?"

"I don’t know, can’t really remember. And then – with Darla – that took a while too."

"You lost your soul with Darla?"

"Well, no, but I thought that’s what it was – and it felt like it for a minute – but then it wasn’t." Angel furrowed his brow, remembering.

"What’s it got to do with this, then?"

Angel stood back, calmer now. "I don’t know. But something… I feel it."

"Right, I’m bloody confused. Are you losing your soul or what?"

"There’s no lightning." Angel looked up at the clear sky.

Spike stared. "What?"

"If it’s something to do with my soul, then it’s usually accompanied by lightning," replied Angel. "Strange, but, in the last few years, true. I don’t remember lightning in Romania."

Spike looked thoroughly bewildered.

"William?" said Angel.

"Yeah?" replied Spike.

"I don’t think I’m losing my soul." He looked at Spike. "I felt perfect happiness – and that," he laughed, "that was perfect happiness – and I’m not losing my soul."

Spike took a step closer to his sire. "Really?"

"Really."

"How come?"

"I don’t know. But it has something to do with that night with Darla."

"So, no more happiness clause?" asked Spike, lighting up a post-feed cigarette.

"Apparently not."

Sire and Childe regarded each other for a beat.

A lazy smile spread over Angel’s face. "Well, my son. Let’s get back to the Hyperion. Tell the others. Anyway, dawn’s coming."

Spike could feel it, the coming day. He could also feel that smile all over his skin.

"Right."

Angel grabbed Spike’s hand, and ran.

~Part: 6~

Spike and Angel burst through the hotel doors, laughing and panting. Fred, startled, upset all the Scrabble tiles.

"Damn, girl, I was just gonna get that triple word score."

"Oh, thank God," said Giles. "You’re back. I was beginning to think I had been quietly banished to Scrabble hell."

"Oh yeah," drawled Angel. "I’m back." He smiled that slow smile.

Cordelia stood, hands on hips.

"Spike, he’d better not mean that in a leather pants way."

Spike shrugged. "Honestly, pet, I’m still not a hundred percent clear on that point."

"It’s okay, Cordy." Angel laughed. "Everything’s okay."

"Good! I mean, what? You seem… happy." Cordelia looked confused.

Buffy frowned. "Happy? How happy, would you say? I mean, scale of one to ten, if it’s easier."

"How happy? Let’s see." Angel spun, looking at Spike. He turned back to the humans, coat billowing dramatically. He spread his hands. "Perfectly happy."

There was a long moment of silence, before everyone lunged for stakes, axes, anything at hand. Except for Buffy.

"Wait!" she shouted. "Wait! He still has a soul."

And all froze. They turned to look at her.

"He has a soul. I can see it there still."

Willow and Giles lowered their weapons, and slowly the others followed suit.

Angel sobered a little. "I’m sorry. I’m sorry, guys." His demeanour changed, just a subtle adjustment in the set of the shoulders, and their fears were abated.

"What is wrong with you?!" Cordelia was irate.

"Yeah, man, I was about to stake you!" So was Gunn.

Spike lounged against a pillar, lighting a cigarette and chuckling. "Now that," he said, "would be the definition of irony."

Angel held up his hands in reconciliation. "I’m sorry. But it’s true. I was happy." He shook his head, laughing in disbelief. "For a moment, I was perfectly happy. But hey, look! Still got a soul!"

"How?" asked Cordelia.

"I don’t know," he replied.

"You’re sure you were happy?"

"Yeah."

"You’re certain, perfectly happy?"

"Believe me. It was bliss." He threw Spike a conspiratorial glance.

"We are talking about a death here, just to be clear?" asked Giles.

Angel hesitated. "Yeah," he said.

"But get it clear, then," interjected Spike. "Evildoer, definitely. Rapist, he stank of it."

Buffy stared.

"Yeah. My boy here found him." Angel ran his hand down Spike’s leather clad arm.

"And… and you still have your soul?" asked Willow, uncertainly.

"I do."

"But Angel, how come?" Cordelia’s voice had softened.

Angel paced, with an energy Cordelia would have thought impossible before he had left to hunt.

"I don’t know. But I think… that is, I feel, it has something to do with Darla, last year."

"What about Darla?"

"I never told you what happened that night."

"The night you slept with her?"

"Yeah. Buffy." He turned to look at the Slayer. His face was tender. "You were asleep when it happened, when I lost my soul. There was a storm, thunder, lightning, lashing rain. I felt this pain stab through me, like lightning itself. I fell to the ground outside, and then…" he became lost in memory for a moment. "Then it was gone. The pain, and my soul." He looked around at his audience. "With Darla it was almost the same. Waking up, the storm, the pain. The only thing different was, my soul wasn’t gone. If anything, it felt more…"

"More what?" asked Cordelia, her voice a whisper.

"More permanent."

"You never mentioned this before."

"I was never sure before."

Gunn stepped forward. "But you are now?"

"Yes. Yes, I’m sure." A smile spread again over Angel’s face.

Gunn smiled briefly, too. "Then I’m happy for you, man."

Buffy spoke. "Me too."

"We’re all happy, I’m sure," said Giles. "But it will take a little while, I think, to get over the fact that it took a death to get you to that certainty."

There was a murmur of assent.

Angel looked at each of them in turn. "It wasn’t – "

Cordelia cut in. "We know, it wasn’t just anyone, it was an evildoer. But Angel –"

It was Angel’s turn to cut in. "It wasn’t just the death, Cordelia. I admit, it was part of it. I’m a vampire. But it wasn’t just the death."

"What, then?" she asked.

Angel turned, and looked at his childe. Spike cocked an expectant eyebrow.

"It was also my son."

Angel took a step towards Spike.

"It was hunting –"

Another step –

"And feeding –"

Another step –

"And killing –"

He stood face to face with Spike –

"With my son."

He ran a hand along Spike’s face, following the angle of the cheekbone, the curve of the mouth.

"It was you, William."

Spike was overwhelmed. It was all he could do to remain standing.

"I didn’t know what Dru saw in you the night she turned you. You stumbled along, muttering," Angel laughed as he slipped Spike’s duster down over his shoulders. "I left her to it." He walked behind his childe, slipping the leather coat off altogether.

Spike felt that low, rumbling voice deep in his belly. His sire stood in front of him once more.

Angel slipped his own coat off, one shoulder at a time, as he spoke.

"Then that night in the mine." He shook his head, chuckling. "I nearly killed you that night. You made me so mad." He threw his coat to the ground. "But I couldn’t do it. I could never do that."

He moved close again, and ran his hands around Spike’s waist before slowly pulling up his black t-shirt. "Then in China, seeing you all hot and bloody from killing the Slayer." He sucked in his breath as Spike raised his arms. Angel pulled the shirt over his head, leaving Spike barechested and breathless. "Oh, how I envied you that night, William. Your freedom, your power."

Spike couldn’t believe his ears. "You," he whispered hoarsely, "you envied me?"

Angel smiled. Again that lazy smile. "Oh yes. I did, my boy."

No one knew where to look. It was, of course, Cordelia who had the courage to speak first.

"Should we leave? This looks like a personal thing. We’ll leave." Everyone had turned to go when Angel stopped them.

"Stay."

They could not disobey the command in his voice.

"You’re going to see this."

They looked at him in shock.

"Spike is my childe. It’s time to witness his vindication."

Angel returned his attention to Spike. He began to slowly unbutton his own shirt. Spike was mesmerized, lulled by Angel’s voice. He could not tear his gaze from his sire’s eyes.

"And in Sunnydale, while I had my soul, we were fighting on opposite sides." He shook his head. "Never again."

He flung his shirt away from him.

Then there was silence, as Spike and Angel’s gazes locked.

Suddenly Angel pinned Spike to the pillar, kissing him as he unleashed a century of passion. He pressed his body against him as if they could become one by willing it. Spike’s arms wrapped around his sire. The feeling of that skin against his, that face against his cheek, that tongue in his mouth; it was everything. To feel so safe against that broad chest, to be encircled by these arms…

Angel pulled back. Spike moaned. Then he understood. God, this was so much more than he hoped.

Angel let his vampire face slip to the fore. Again he stared into his childe’s eyes, before plunging his fangs into Spike’s neck. Spike cried out in pleasure, turning to his own game face. He reciprocated readily. He sank his teeth into his sire, once more that taste, that power and rush that can only come from sire’s blood. And he could feel where all that blood was rushing to. Their legs intertwined as Angel began to grind his hips into Spike, crushing him against the pillar. Spike gasped as he dug his nails into Angel’s back, and shuddered with pleasure when he heard his sire moan. This was truly perfect happiness.

Finally Angel withdrew his teeth. He was breathless, still leaning tight against Spike, fire in those amber eyes. Spike leant against his shoulder, panting, gazing up at his sire’s face. Their faces morphed back into their human form. Angel looked from Spike around to their somewhat unwilling audience.

"This is my son," he said, "in whom I am well pleased." Then he smiled a big and bloody smile before kissing Spike again.

He stopped, and looked around.

"You can go now."

They did. They hurried to the furthest rooms they could find, and wrapped their heads in pillows. They were still woken, now and again, though, with the noise.

~~~*~~~

Spike yelled in ecstasy as he came in Angel’s mouth. They were on the floor of the shadowy lobby, soft reflected sunlight glowing on their skin. Spike was arched against the ground, Angel between his legs, spasming with orgasm. Angel removed his fingers from Spike’s ass as he moved back up his childe’s body, lapping and kissing with a hungry tongue. A century had passed since he had last felt Angel’s body against his. God, how he had missed it! And he hadn’t even known until now how much he had ached to feel his sire against him again.

When the others had left Angel had returned to kissing him with a fervour that Spike had never known. They fell to the ground in a fire of passion, kicking off shoes, socks and pants in an effort to touch all their skin at once. Spike could feel Angel’s moans start as rumblings in that expansive chest. He could feel his massive erection hot against his belly, brushing against his own straining cock. Angel took it in his hand, and began to stroke slowly up and down as his mouth made its way to Spike’s nipples. He hooked the thumb of his other hand into his mouth, and Spike sucked in rhythm with Angel’s strokes. Angel played with one nipple, then the other. His childe began to writhe under him, gasping and moaning. When Spike began to thrust with his hips, Angel let his tongue wander down further, kissing and sucking, before taking Spike’s throbbing cock into his mouth. Spike moaned louder as Angel began to suck maddeningly slowly, deep throating him, swallowing around the tip, sending bolts of pleasure through his taut body. Spike couldn’t bear it any more.

"Angel, oh god! Angel! Faster!"

Angel took a second to lick two fingers, before taking Spike once more into his mouth. This time he sucked faster and faster, thrusting his fingers into Spike’s anus. Spike’s hands found the back of Angel’s head, forcing himself deeper and deeper into Angel’s throat. It was then that he arched, spurting come inside Angel as he shouted in pleasure, gasping for unneeded air.

As soon as Spike had calmed from his climax, Angel was on him again, kissing him, plunging his tongue into Spike’s unresisting mouth. Spike could taste his own come in Angel’s saliva. He put his hand between them and cupped Angel’s balls. He knew what his sire wanted. He rolled them over, then took Angel’s cock into his mouth, to wet it just enough. Then he slid to the ground beside him, thrusting his ass into the air. Angel needed no more encouragement. He rolled on top of his childe, positioned himself, then pushed to the hilt. He groaned, feeling the tightness of Spike’s ass around him. Spike cried out in pain, then in pleasure, as Angel began to fuck him, hitting him every time in that magic place. He was beginning to harden again, and Angel slipped his hand round Spike’s body to grasp him in his firm grip, stroking in time with his own thrusting. They came together, waves of ecstasy crashing round them, Angel collapsing across Spike’s back as once more he cried for his son.

They lay panting, Angel on top of Spike, until they could speak.

"Oh god, oh my boy," said Angel throatily. "And that was just the beginning."

Spike smiled in lustful anticipation. "Sire, you always know how to make it last."

~~~*~~~

Buffy and Cordelia woke first that evening. They came downstairs to the lobby to find it empty, save for the clothes discarded by Spike and Angel the night before.

"Well," said Cordelia, "thank God they’re not still here."

"Oh yeah," replied Buffy.

"What do you care? You’ve seen them both naked."

"Yeah, but never together." Buffy paused. "How did you know about Spike?"

"I’m not blind, I see the looks you two give each other. Or, more significantly, don’t give each other."

"Oh," said Buffy.

Cordelia sniffed.

Buffy rallied. "And I see how protective you are of Angel. What’s with that?"

Cordy suddenly looked defensive. "Nothing! He’s a good friend, is all."

"Yeah. Of course. You have no feelings more than friendship."

Cordelia deflated. "Well, maybe a little more."

They both paused, contemplating for a moment.

"Not that it seems to make much difference now," continued Cordy. "Did you hear them last night?"

"Hello? Slayer senses? In Dolby Surround Sound!"

"Ew. Glad I don’t get super demon hearing with the whole half-demon deal."

"Oh, be very glad." Her eyes glazed. Then, as she shook the memories out of her head, she said, "Anyway, they won’t be up for a while, but the others will be awake soon. Let’s get the coffee on."

"Good call. By the way, where’s Xander? He didn’t want to come on your little trip to LA?"

"He’s keeping an eye on Dawn while I’m away. We didn’t think it was his kind of trip. And now I am extra glad he didn’t come, for his own sake."

"Angel and Spike getting down and dirty very loudly in the lobby? Ooh, yeah."

Their voices faded as they made their way to the hotel kitchens.

~~~*~~~

Upstairs, Spike, yawned, stretched, and rolled round into his sire. He sighed as Angel’s arm wrapped around him. Then he fell asleep again, happy in the knowledge that this was where he’d wake up.
 

The End