Title: Severed Dreams

"Miss Edith would like to hear another." the vampiress' soft voice stated. She sat on the thick rug by the fire, legs curled up underneath herself. The porcelain doll in a matching outfit to her own was cradled carefully in her lap. Drusilla held a brush in one hand, combing it through the doll's honey-coloured locks.

"Yeah, Angelus, another," a second voice chimed in.

Angelus looked into the sparkling blue eyes of his favourite childe. William lay on his back -- hands laced behind his head -- on the floor between where Dru played with her dolls and where Angelus reclined on a sofa. William raised one eyebrow slightly, accentuating his request.

The three vampires were housebound due to the heavy downpour outside. It had been easy enough to find a residence suited to their needs once they'd been trapped outside in the rain. They posed as well-to-do travellers from out of town, unfortunately caught in the storm. The good samaritans who invited them in lived just long enough to regret their grave error.

Hunger satiated for the moment, William stoked a fire and they relaxed, allowing its glow to warm their cool blood.

The dark haired vampire had observed William brush Drusilla's hair for a while, and was pleased. His boy seemed to be taking to his younger childe, which was good news. Angelus did his best to encourage their relationship, knowing that William would be able to care for her when he was away, his charge being in a somewhat fragile state of mind.

It hadn't taken long, though, for Angelus to tire of watching, and pull out his favourite book to help pass the time. Dru's eyes had lit up, and although William pretended not to be interested, Angelus saw the twinkle in his eyes...

The vampire chuckled and looked down with affection and a fair amount of pride at his favourite.

"What's the magic word, Will?"

William made a show of thinking. "Now." he answered cheekily.

Angelus had him up off the ground by his collar in an instant.

"*Now*?" the vampire queried, his face aggressively close to the younger man's. William's eyes widened for an instant before they dropped submissively, dark lashes fluttering against pale skin. Dru looked up with interest from brushing Miss Edith's hair.

"Know yer place, boy," the older vampire said in a pleasant voice, belying his threatening actions.

"I- I- do, Angelus," William choked out.

"Let's go over how ye *should've* answered tha' question... care t' attempt it again?"

"Now.. sire..." his eyes raised just enough to look up through those sooty lashes. "...please?"

Angelus groaned inwardly. He moved closer, brushing his slightly rough cheek against Will's smooth alabaster one, until his lips reached his ear. "Why d' I put up with yer insolence, Will?"

"Because I'm your *favourite*.." William answered, making the word favourite as breathy as he possibly could. A small smile curved Angelus' lips. The older vampire slid over on the couch, simultaneously pulling William up next to him. He passed his errant childe the book, open where it had been left.

"Now." He gestured to a passage halfway down the page. Angelus looked at Will, whose eyebrow was raised in question. The dark vampire's lips itched to smile, but he settled for a look of tiresome acceptance. "Please."

Will grinned, eyes sparkling, and he began to recite the lilting verse after shooting Dru a salacious smile, but not before interlacing his fingers with his sire's...

+ + + + +

Angel was jolted out of his reminiscing reverie by his office door opening with a jolt, muffling Cordelia's indignant exclamation. Even thought he entrance was abrupt and violent, he did all he could to reign in the automatic response to smile, instead opting for a look of tiresome acceptance.

"You wanted something, Spike?"

The blond vampire seemed offset for a moment, before regaining his composure, but he still remained silent. Angel half-stood from behind his desk and looked out his door. "You didn't terrorise anyone on your way here, did you?" He observed Cordelia overseeing Wesley as he cleaned the coffee from the floor, that spilt when it was rudely knocked over.

The older man looked back over to Spike. "I hope for your sake that doesn't permanently mark the floor."

This comment prompted some action from the other man. Spike screwed his face up in distaste. "Fuck, you are *such* a pussy. As I don't live and breathe, I feel the demon being sucked outta me just by being in the same room as you." There was a condescending sneer on his face, that somehow didn't reach his eyes. They were wild and bright... glistening with a deep-seated hurt and rage that had only just been realised.

Angel raised his eyebrow, trying to gauge what had set his childe off. Which, knowing his temperament, could be anything.

Spike snorted. "Ah, the brow's furrowing, I can see you're having trouble following the plot. Well lemme give you the summary." With that, he flung the heavy book onto Angel's desk. The dark haired vampire drew his hands back quickly to prevent his fingers being flattened. A scolding word was on his tongue, but it died when he saw the book.

He remembered. It didn't take longer than a second to read the implications of Spike finding this book. He answered in the best way he possibly could.

"Oh."

"Got it in one, tosser."

He ran his fingers over the edge of the slightly worn cover, fibres rubbing against the soft skin of the pads of his fingers, attempting to figure out what he could possibly say.

"I-"

"You *what*, Angelus?" Spike interrupted. "Because as far as I can see, you've kinda fucked up big time, and don't really have a leg to stand on."

Angel's heart constricted painfully. Looking at his childe, he knew what he was feeling.. the anger and the betrayal was as tangible as if he were experiencing it himself. "Spike, maybe if you calm down...." he flinched, knowing that the blond would not agree to the suggestion and cut him off.

He was right.

"I don't think there's much of a chance of me calming down about this, Peaches, d'you?" Spike fixed his sire with a burning gaze, silencing him. The blond's countenance relaxed into a bemused expression. But Angel wasn't fooled. He'd always been able to read his childe, the eyes always gave him away.

In Spike's eyes he saw sadness.. and heart-wrenching disappointment.

"So, I'm tossing up whether to hear you out," the blond casually walked around Angel's office, and picked up a small vase. "because I think it'd be quite amusing. Or," he pinned the dark vampire with his eyes. "maybe we'll just never speak of this again. I think that'll be pretty easy from your end if I rip out your fucking tongue, eh?" He smiled -- a little too happily -- before hurling the vase at the older man's head.

Angel ducked, to have the ceramic object plough into the blinds behind him and crack the glass. He looked at Spike's eyes. There was nothing there now but fury. The blond grabbed another item, a statuette, and hurled it towards the same place. This burst through the already damaged blinds and smashed the window, allowing the deadly afternoon sun in. Angel leapt out of the way before he was singed. He whipped his head around to witness Spike begin to reduce his office to a warzone.

The dark haired vampire was having a serious case of dejavù, and not surprisingly, so was Spike.

The younger man rampaged. He tore through his sire's office, breaking, destroying, ruining. It wasn't even a case of having to fight the tears coursing down his face -- they did not come. That was for later, just before he ran himself through with something nice and wooden.

Wesley poked his head inside the office a fearful look on his face, Cordelia behind him.

"Get out!" Angel barked, waving the ex-Watcher and his secretary out.

"Angel-" Wesley started, trying to speak over the din of a toppling bookshelf.

"Out!" the vampire repeated. "I'll handle this."

"Bull you will!" Cordelia shouted. "You've got to get out of there before he tears you to pieces, too!"

That much was true. Spike was systematically destroying anything he could get his hands on.. and Angel knew better than to underestimate his childe. He glanced at the door again, and the wide band of sunlight from the broken window blocking his exit that way... the other way was blocked by a frenzied demon.

Angel stood his ground, until Spike turned his wild eyes towards the pair at the door. Even with the chip, he could still probably do some damage before it incapacitated him. The older vampire decided he needed to act.

"Spike, stop it!" he growled, advancing on his childe. The blond ignored him, punching a hole through a cabinet on his way to the door. "Spike, *now*." He snarled. This was enough to shake the vampire out of his destructive madness. He slowly turned to face his sire.

"*Now*?" he queried. "D'you think with a word, this is over? You think you fucking control me like you used to? Do you think I can just stop when YOU TELL ME TO?!"

"Will..." Angel's face softened. "..please?"

The ridges formed quite unexpectedly in comparison to his smooth human features while he had been tearing the place up.

"MY. NAME. IS. SPIKE." He thundered, before ploughing through Wes and Cordelia towards the door. Kicking it viciously, he pulled the collar of his duster over his head, he ran out into the sunlight, heading for his car parked across the street.

Angel pushed past his coworkers to get into the main office. He looked through the open door as the blond revved the engine of his DeSoto and sped off.

All he could do was watch.

It seemed, in the end, that was all he could ever do.

+ + + + +

1898

He peeked through the door. It wasn't too hard, it was hanging off its hinges, having obviously seen better days. Or, better tempers.

So had the room.

Books, trinkets, pieces of furniture lay strewn everywhere. In the middle of the mess, Dru wept in a huddled ball on the rug. And around her, a tornado of demonic proportions ravaged the room. His Will became an animal, breaking anything he came into contact with.

In that way, not that dissimilar to himself. A surge of guilt erupted in Angel's gut, and made him want to vomit. He had to keep reminding himself why he was here. He ran his fingers over the smooth wood of his whittled stake.

It had to end. He brought these monsters into the world -- he could take them out again.

Easier said than done.

No, actually, even *saying* that hurt.

Angel put his head in his hands and moaned softly, trying desperately not to fall apart. How could he live without his beloved childer? He had spent at least one hundred years molding them, teaching them.

(to kill)

[to read]

(to hurt)

[about poetry]

(death)

[existence]

Angel's moaning grew louder. It felt as if his body were being torn in two from the inside out with indecision.

But one thought stuck in his mind.

He couldn't- no, *wouldn't* - kill his creations. They were demons, but they were nothing he had not made them to be, it was hardly their fault. The vampire watched as Will gathered his sobbing sibling in his arms. On the carpet, amidst the ruins of a room, two frightened children sought comfort in each other at their father's death.

And he was, he *was* dead to them.

Angel dropped the stake, and instead picked up the few possessions he'd salvaged before William had gotten home. Even with her prescience, Dru had been unable to sense him through the haze of her own grief.

William looked up, and Angel caught his breath. It seemed like they had made eye contact, but it was too dark even with preternatural eyesight to see him. And then he saw them.

They glistened on his cheeks. Clear tears, tinged pink with blood on dirty cheeks. Those azure eyes wept for Angel, they wept for Drusilla, and they wept for himself.

Angel watched, his own sadness overpowering. He watched until he could take no more, and then disappeared into the night.

Title: Interludes and Examinations

Angel paced, waiting for sunset. It had taken all of Wesley and Cordelia's negotiating skills (that and blocking the doorway) to get him not to jump in his car and directly chase his childe.

For one, they argued, Spike was in a helluva mood, perhaps it wouldn't be prudent to wave the flag at the bull just yet. Additionally, the blond vampire probably got quite singed during in his flight. As his secretary so bluntly pointed out, she wanted to work for a dead guy, not a pile of ashes.

So... Angel paced. And when he wasn't pacing, he was standing in the entrance to his office, staring forlornly at a book on his desk. His employees didn't ask, seeing the guilt etched deeply on the vampire's face.

Angel was glad they didn't. If he had to tell them how small and totally self-centred he'd been... he just couldn't handle the looks of disgust on their faces... no, he was shamed enough without that from the people he cared about most.

There were a multitude of thoughts going through his head, which triggered even more emotions. Guilt, sadness, anger, remorse... you name it, he felt it. But nothing was more powerful than despair, that rested heavily like a cold, hard lump in the bottom of his stomach.

Angel had let his boy down again.

He sensed the sun go down just as it dipped over the horizon. It still stained the sky in the west a flaming orange, but the glowing ball in the sky was no longer visible. The dark haired vampire turned towards the lift, intending to go down to his basement and grab his car keys.

That is, until he heard them tinkle behind him. Cordelia held them out, her concerned expression plainly readable. Wesley stood at her shoulder, silently echoing her worry.

"Here," she said simply, putting them in his hand. "Go make it right."

"I-" Angel started, then stopped and sighed wearily. "Thank you. I just...don't know if I can... ever."

"Angel, I understand this is some..." Wesley searched for the right words. "historical grievance. You cannot be held responsible for what you did to..er.. Spike, when you were soulless." At Angel's blanch, he wrongly assumed it was in reference to mentioning the vampire's less than stellar years, and continued. "I know vampire relationships are... possessive to the extreme at best, and wildly violently at worst... but that's not you. And whatever you did then isn't your fault."

"No." Angel whispered, before becoming louder. "You're wrong, Wes. This isn't about anything to do with me before the curse... this is to do with something that happened after." The vampire looked away quickly, blinking back moistness in his eyes. He pulled his jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on while walking to the door.

"I... I don't understand... what did you do?"

Angel turned back then, and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees and bash the floorboards with his fists. His face looked drawn, and for the first time ever, every single year of his 246 of existence.

"I broke a promise."

+ + + + +

1861

The dark haired vampire knew he'd find his childe in the grounds somewhere. Whereas he preferred somewhere lofty, like a balcony, or the roof of a building for quiet introspection, Will liked being as close to the ground as he possibly could. He still had yet to figure out why. Maybe it was because he'd been raised on the filthy streets of London, with its smog and pebbled streets, that sitting under a tree somewhere held it's appeal.

Perhaps. It made sense. Angelus loved the altitude, and looking over all his surroundings, after the pathetically small and rural villages that made up Galway.

In the end, it did not matter where he was. Angelus would find him.

He stretched the kinks out of his neck. The evening so far had been...rather strenuous. They had travelled to Paris at Darla's behest. She was interested in meeting the new offspring of her Favourite. While... somewhat hard to follow occasionally, he was confident his sire would like Drusilla. After all, her state was a testament to the Master Vampire Angelus had become in his own right. So he'd packed Dru and Will up, and they had travelled to France.

As he'd anticipated, Darla was suitably pleased with her attractive new grandchilde. So much so, that she'd wished to immediately get re-acquainted with Angelus, and had requested the presence of his new childe. The older man raised a dark brow almost imperceptibly. What about Will? But with one glance at his sire, she knew that if she'd wanted his company, it would have been specifically mentioned.

Will had been sullen for some time now, and this would by no means improve his mood. It had started when the young Catholic novice with the Gift had first caught his eye. Will had amiably gone along with him for a while, until his obsession became more and more consuming. It was about this time that William had taken to hunting alone. He'd started to hear the minions refer to his childe as 'Spike', and controlling his mood swings had become more and more difficult.

It concerned Angelus. This wasn't like his boy. He brushed it off as jealousy towards his new toy. And in the back of his mind, he knew it would be trouble when he brought the girl home, already a fledgling. He was right. Will disappeared for four days.

It was then that the vampire realised the extent of his childe's hurt. He sent minions out every night searching for his dark haired lad, but to no avail. It was only when he chose to return that it was so.

The older vampire could not hide his relief when Will came home. He devoted a full day and night to his eldest, making sure that the younger man knew he had not been replaced.

Since then, it had been a struggle for popularity between his two childer, and Will would take any opportunity at all to spend time alone with Angelus, even if it meant going to an opera or a concert.

And he had been getting better, he really had. Drusilla's soft voice was kind of addictive, and Angelus found that William no longer immediately left the room if the girl was there by herself. There was still sibling rivalry, and that much was to be expected, but the older vampire had hopes that one day they would like each other, even come to care for one another.

But this whole Darla situation was a major setback. The fact that his sire had quite overtly omitted Will's name from her invitation -- both to visit her in Paris, and to her chamber -- could only serve to revert progress. When Angelus had looked at his childe standing in the middle of the living room in Darla's residence, he had tried to convey through his eyes that that was not how he wished it, but he was unable to challenge.

It didn't help that Will refused to look any of them in the eyes. He'd just lit up a cigarette (much to Darla's disgust), muttered something about hunting, and then the door slammed shut behind him.

That was three hours ago.

Angelus left the townhouse the minute Darla gave her permission, more content to amuse herself with her new grandchilde. It wasn’t that being with his sire wasn't pleasurable, he was just worried what further effect that this was having on William. The vampire headed straight for the lush gardens adjacent to the building. The older man knew he was on the right track, as his senses had steadily pulled him in the direction of the apple orchards.

Presently, a whispy plume of cigarette smoke was visible between the trees and the silhouettes of two people were visible in the moonlight. Angelus' stride became longer and quicker. "Will!" he called out, but received no response. In no time, the younger vampire was positively identified, sitting with one of the young stablehands. A steady snarl began to build in the back of his throat until the reality of the situation became evident.

The young lad sat with his eyes closed, skin ashen. On closer inspection, the collar of the boy's shirt was soaked crimson.

"The name's *Spike*." He was just within earshot to hear the sullen reply. Angry that he'd allowed the presence of his childe's discarded meal to unnerve him, and being corrected with that abysmal nickname, he spoke in a much angrier tone than he intended.

"Takin' t' not cleaning up after yerself then, *Will*?"

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

William inhaled smoke deeply, allowing it to warm his insides The blood of the two whores, the thief, his victim, and the stablehand was already cold in his system, it did his internal body temperature good. Smoking also helped pass the time, too, and kept his fingers busy.

He waited uncharacteristically patiently, gauging the exact moment before Angelus was ready to berate him to answer.

"He was pleasant enough company before I got hungry..." William said, watching as the cigarette he held burnt closer and closer to his fingers. Angelus grabbed it out of his fingers and flicked the butt away with precision.

"I thought I told ye not to wander off," the older vampire stated, his voice clipped.

William sighed surreptitiously. This was how it always was. Well, how it always seemed to be lately. Angelus called away to anyone's side.. at least.. anyone who wasn't *him*, and on returning, he acted like it was *William's* fault he'd gone. That was his sire's own little way of showing his guilt about leaving -- making it seem like his problem eldest had run off, then having to go chase him, spank him soundly, and send him back home.

Will was tired of it.

He was tired of coming second best in the older vampire's esteem. He knew that Darla would always feature heavily in Angelus' unlife, and that she influenced a great deal of what he did... but when they were alone... that was purely his sire. And they had been mostly alone for the better part of 50 years. Even when they did meet up with Darla, she spent time fawning over him as well, and more often than not invited him as well as the dark haired vampire to her chamber.

Will had gotten used to being the apple of Angelus' eye in that time. And he was not ready to give that up just yet. Not for Darla, not for that loony dark haired bitch, not for *anyone*.

But it seemed he'd been taking second and third place a lot, recently. The implication of him not being invited on the trip anyway was not lost. Angelus had tried to keep the invitation vague, but Will knew when he wasn't asked for. As always, the thoughts of the two people he held in the highest, were focused on Drusilla.

Drusilla. Drusilla. Drusilla. It was all they ever talked about. Okay, so she was all holy or something before being turned. Big effin' deal. Alright, there was that incident where she predicted various events concerning the dark supernatural underbelly of the world. Which was all well and good, so long as you could understand her nursery rhyme speech and talking to inanimate objects. Even the minions found it 'enchanting'.

Will wanted to heave.

If he'd known he meant so much to Angelus that an insane trollop like that could replace him in his sire's eyes, he'd have gone out on his own a long time ago.

But that was part of the problem. The night Angelus had brought Drusilla home, newly birthed into darkness and still vulnerable, William left. He packed one or two treasured belongings, then left them behind, deciding on a completely fresh start. As far away from the influence of his sire as he could possibly get. A new continent perhaps? A new country at the very least.

He never got out of the city. It seemed the further away he went, the less appealing existence became. As it was, he travelled around London for a few days, drinking and killing, avoiding the minions sent out to retrieve him. About the bottom of his eleventh pint on the third night, he came to the no-so-astonishing conclusion that Angelus was the Way, the Truth, the Light, whatever other apocryphal nonsense his little contact with the Bible had impressed upon him.

However he looked at it, the meaning was still fairly clear. It only seemed blurry because of the amount of alcohol in his system.

Angelus Was Life.

Will was finding it harder and harder to stay away. His sire was like some sweet drug, and without him, he was bereft. Half a demon.

No-one.

That was why he always came back.

*That* was why he never went anywhere Angelus wouldn't know where to look.

"I only ducked out for a meal," William answered, patting his jacket for another smoke.

Angelus remained silent as his childe found a cigarette, and began searching for a box of matches. Soundlessly, he pulled an engraved lighter from his pocket and threw it in William's lap. It took the boy slightly by surprise and he looked up.

He knew he was getting through to his sire when Angelus saw his eyes. For whatever reason, he'd never been able to lie to the older vampire. Always been able to read him like a book... it was infuriating and bloody inconvenient at the best of times, but now.. now he *wanted* Angelus to see exactly what he was thinking.

Angelus' eyes softened and he lowered himself down next to William, cursing as the delicate material of his jacket rubbed up against the bark of the tree. Will snorted at the predictability. The older vampire snarled in irritation, which only made his childe laugh more. It had been so long since the younger man had been seen smiling... Angelus couldn't not be affected by that. A small smile curled at his lips, which gave way to a soft chuckle.

Eventually, William quieted down and passed the lit cigarette deftly between his fingers. Unspoken words hung in the air like fog. Will thought he would never get the courage to speak up, until what was in the forefront of his mind just popped out.

"You said you'd never do this to me," he spoke softly in a tone that was both accusing and resigned.

"I-" for once, Angelus seemed lost for words. "I know, lad," He almost sounded regretful. "I dinna mean to. Y'do know tha', don't ye?"

William sighed and inhaled smoke into his lungs. "I know," he breathed out.

Angelus turned, piercing the side of his childe's head with his intense gaze until the younger man turned to meet his eyes. "Will, there wilna be a night where I wilna come back t' ye. It dinna matters who calls me away, I'll always return t' ye."

Will's blue eyes filled with an all encompassing hope. "Promise?"

Angelus' handsome features broke into a smile. "Aye." He reached up and ran a finger down his beautiful childe's face, from the highest point of his cheekbone, down the slender pale neck to just underneath his collar. William stuck the cigarette in the corner of his mouth and grinned. He reached into his lap and picked up the lighter, but Angelus stopped his hands in their tracks.

"Keep it. Ye're always losin' yours. Mayhaps y'wilna lose something with any actual *value*." Will chose to ignore the insult at the prospect of getting something out of it. He crowed at his new possession in triumph.

"Now, while I'm down here..." Angelus continued, his hands still in William's lap, a dangerous smile curving his lips.

If it was possible, the younger vampire's grin grew.

+ + + + +

On. Off. On. Off.

Spike flicked his lighter. He only had a few smokes left, and wanted to save them for a bit later, so this was the only other thing he could think of to keep his hands occupied. As a matter of fact, this little action was the only thing that kept him from finding a suitable tree branch and hurling himself onto it.

On. Off. On. Off.

He amused himself by setting anything alight in his immediate vicinity that was flammable, but did not have the capability to blow up in his face. Spike sighed and slipped further down in the park bench. The click and hiss of the gas igniting was somewhat soothing.

On. Off. On. Off.

On.

Live.

Off.

Die.

On.

Reborn.

Off.

Dust.

On.

Sire.

Off.

Soul.

Spike ran his thumb affectionately over the silver lighter. It was an antique by now, but he'd taken good care of it, and it was still in top working order. It's cool metal was smooth, except for the slight ridges made by its delicately engraved picture. The bleached blond bit his lip and looked down at the intricate swirls and lines that made the griffin.

On.

Forgiveness.

Off.

Enmity.

Angelus broke his word. He swore he would never do it, made fervent promises, and broke them all again. And again. And yet again.

When was Spike going to learn?

On.

Always.

Off.

Never.

Spike knew he would be found. Nothing would prevent that. The souled version of his sire was as singleminded and anal as the unsouled. There was something as comforting about that as it was infuriating. It didn't matter where he went, Angel would find him. So he could mope

On.

Here.

or

Off.

There.

It made no difference. Sunnydale didn't hold much appeal. He'd rather not be seen being scolded like a small child by all his enemies if he could bloody well help it. Enough people had seen him cry for ten lifetimes.

If that thought somehow jogged his memory, Spike wiped his face violently, ridding his cheeks of every last tear. There would be no more, he decided. Ever. He'd shed enough tears over people who didn't care about him for twenty lifetimes.

Spike took a cigarette from his dwindling supply and lit it, snapping the lighter closed resolutely. He gauged it to be around 10 pm.

This had to end. He was sick and tired of chasing after phantoms of Angelus. The bastard was going to come to him, and it was going to be finished once and for all.

The blond vampire decided to stay in the park until his sire found him. Or until the sun rose. Whichever came first.

Either way, he didn't really have anything to lose.

On.

Sunrise.

Off.

Sunset.

On.

Sunrise.

Off.

Sunset...

Fin

Title: Catharsis

4.29am.

Still no Spike.

Angel was becoming anxious and desperate -- a normally bad combination in anyone, it wreaked havoc with the dark-haired vampire's emotions.

Upon leaving the office the moment the sun descended, it had been one long fruitless search. Spike wasn't to be found in any pub, gambling joint or brothel -- demon or otherwise -- in the city. Worse still, no one he'd spoken to had recognised the blond, or seen him around.

And that was what inherently worried Angel the most.

If Spike was upset, he could be expected to be found obnoxiously drunk in one of these places, maybe start a fight or ten, get beaten up and forget all about whatever bothered him a few days later.

That was normal. That was predictable. Hell, that was practically accounted for.

But when the younger vampire went to ground without a trace, it wasn't trivial. He was wounded to the very core of his being.

4.30am.

Angel sighed. It seemed he had been the instrument of pain to so many for so long. When was it going to end? A snarl built in the back of his throat, and he vented his buildup of frustration by punching a large dent in an industrial bin outside his latest dead end. He glared down at his bruising fist, goading the blossoming pain on.

At least that was something to focus on. This way, he didn't have to think about how he was failing his childe once again. Not only had he broken copious promises that he'd sworn fervently to keep time and time again, but he was about to fail in apologising once again.

How wonderfully and utterly typical.

4.31am.

The vampire closed his eyes and forcibly tried to calm himself. The only way he was going to find Spike, was to think like Spike.

{If I were a vampire who'd been betrayed for the very last time by the person who was supposed to care most, where would I go?} He thought caustically. Angel allowed his mind to drift back to the times his Will had run off in the past... it had something.. something to do with... apples? No... but there was an apple orchard there somewhere... Orchard. Trees. Grass. Garden. Park.

*Parks!*

The dark-haired man cursed himself for a fool as he jumped into his convertible and revved the engine.

He needed any inner city parks or public grounds. There couldn't be that many in Los Angeles.

Could there?

He hoped not, there wasn't much time left.

4.32am.

Angel looked from the clock on the dash to a piece of note paper hastily scrawled on by Cordelia before he left the office.

'Sunrise - 5.21am!!'

No, not much time at all.

+ + + + +

The sunrise smells of juniper and honey, Spike mused. Oh, that big blazing ball wouldn't crest the horizon for another good thirty minutes, but he could feel its approach.

Just like he could feel Angel driving down the street towards him. It wasn't something his five preternaturally heightened senses could pick up, it was definitely something internal.

Angel's blood sang to him.

Why wouldn't it? It coursed through his entire body, invaded every part of his being, hummed in his veins. A car door slammed somewhere behind him, and he quelled the automatic urge to slink into the shadows and disappear.

This wasn't a game of hunter-prey, this wasn't a battle between enemies, this was the Truth, finally coming home.

He couldn't help the small, bitter smile that graced his face with that thought. That smile was still on his face when Angel crept up, silent as death to stand behind him.

Spike felt the attempted beginnings of a dozen reprimands, queries and apologies on his sire's tongue, but not one made it past his lips. The blond vampire stretched out on the park bench, resting one ankle over the other languidly. Ashing his cigarette, he watched the particles of dust float up and away, dancing on the faint morning breeze.

The vampire sucked on the cigarette, inhaling its grey smoke as far as it would go into his body, enjoying the way it heated up cold lungs. The warmth tickled his insides pleasantly.

"Spike," Angel began tentatively. "We need to talk."

"No." the blond answered simply, taking another drag. "I'm going to talk. You're going to listen. And this time," he looked over his shoulder, eyes meeting those of his sire with cold certainty, "is the last time."

The older vampire opened his mouth to protest, but the expression on Spike's face took his voice away. Nodding mutely, Angel acquiesced with his childe's wishes, not knowing what else to do. Satisfied with Angel's response, Spike turned back to the east.

"Sit." he gestured to the space on the seat next to him in the authoritative tone of one accustomed to being obeyed. Angel sat, and looked to his childe for the next move. The blond took his time exhaling a lungful of blue smoke.

"D'you know I've been rehearsing this moment for nigh on 140 years?" the dark-haired vampire's eyebrows nearly met his hairline. Spike laughed. "S'true! The defining moment when I had your undivided attention, and I told you exactly What was What."

The younger man stared at the end of his smouldering cigarette, watching ash float away in the breeze. "S'funny.. now that you are here.. and I *can* talk.. I don't much feel like it.." Spike glanced across to see Angel open his mouth. "But it doesn't mean I won't." he continued, and had the satisfaction of seeing his sire's mouth snap shut.

"I know what you probably expect me to talk about," he continued in a conversational tone. "About what happened two years ago.. about guilt and the soul... and I'm sure you have all of those answers prepared. Hell, you've probably been rehearsing answering those questions from me ever since we met up again, haven't you?" Angel's silence was most telling, and Spike continued.

"I hate to disappoint you, but I don't care about that." As an afterthought, he added "..at least, not any more." The dark-haired vampire didn't look entirely convinced. "There were only three things I was ever better at than you, Angelus," Spike numbered off on his fingers. "Taking care of your possessions, cleaning up your messes, and getting over being crushed."

"But you were always so sensitive-" Angel blurted out without thinking.

Spike glared, his voice hard. "If I wasn't strong enough to handle the shit I've been dealt in this life, I would have snuffed it long ago." The blond studied his sire's face before relaxing slightly. "I know you're just dying to say something, so spit it out before you combust."

"It's just.. uh.." Angel stammered, uncharacteristically lost for words and unwilling to speak. "I thought you'd be.. well... angrier. I'm not sure how to deal with this..."

The small wry smile on Spike's face vanished. "You think I'm not? Pardon me for getting over my whole 'I want to smash your face in' phase. I'd love to be all predictable so you can figure everything out easily, but I considered my options and decided that doing exactly what you expected me to for two hundred fucking years has started to wear a little thin."

"Listen, about the book-"

"We never really knew what happened to you, you know." Spike interrupted calmly. "Darla wasn't forthcoming, the bitch that she was. Tell you what, I was *not* torn up to hear she'd been dusted... " Angel looked down at his hands. Spike continued regardless. "anyway... the book is just an object. But what it represents is far more important.

"It is the symbol of your lack of spine, Angelus. You came back, and you didn't even let us know you were alive?!"

"What difference would it have made?" Angel shot back hotly. "Can you honestly say you would have accepted me?"

"I don't know, you never gave us the *chance*!"

The dark-haired vampire sat back, his anger evaporating like rain on a hot pavement. "You wouldn't- you *couldn't* have accepted who I was, what I'd become," he answered, his tone soft and regretful.

"Maybe not," Spike answered archly. "But it would have been a damn sight better than *not knowing*.

"You just don't get it. Maybe we would have taken you back. Maybe we woulda tossed your arse back out on the street. The fact remains, you never gave us... *me*... the *choice*. You just made the decision for me, like you had done for a hundred fucking years, and left without so much as a word."

Angel had the decency to look ashamed. He sat on the edge of the bench and fidgeted, in stark contrast to Spike's relaxed and languid pose.

"It's always been about control for you, mate. You have it; no-one else does." Spike leant sideways in a patronisingly conspiratorial fashion. "How much control d'you think you have now?" The blond's eyes slid from Angel's face to the east. The air seemed to be warming, even as the dark blue sky was being tainted with the pink glow of false dawn.

Angel looked up then, and saw how close day was. "Spike," he said in a low voice, as if soothing a wild animal. "Come home with me. We can finish our conversation elsewhere." He did his best to keep his tone non-confrontational, belying the fact that he was worried Spike seemed to be blatantly ignoring the coming of the sun.

"No." Spike answered, not without irritation. "For one, this isn't a conversation, this is a lecture. And two, I'm comfortable here. If you're not," he gestured offhandedly. "You're free to leave."

"You know I won't leave without you." The dark-haired vampire said.

"You've done so before," Spike retorted, putting another Angel guilt expression on his invisible tally. "What, I'm suddenly supposed to believe you care so goddamn much *now*? Be realistic, Angelus."

"You're just being stubborn." The older man responded, quite petulantly.

"Maybe..." Spike nodded, mulling over the concept. "Or maybe I'm standing up to you for the first time in my unlife. I know you won't kill me. You killed Darla, and you helped kill Penn, and countless others, but," he breathed out and shut his eyes, before opening them and training his unwavering gaze on his sire. "I'm not afraid of you anymore."

{He really isn't} Angel thought to himself, face to face with the cold defiance of his childe.

"I- Okay..." Running his hand through his hair, Angel attempted to approach Spike from another angle. The blond turned his face towards the rapidly lightening sky. "All I'm suggesting is that we go back to the offi-"

"I love you."

The words were so simple, so heartbreakingly bare that it was all Angel could do not to fall off the bench, paralysed. Spike looked down at his fingers, a small, bitter smile curling his lips.

"I never lay claim to anything I was proud of before being turned. Couldn't even say I loved anyone, or was loved in return." he shrugged. "Being an orphan, you don't get that many opportunities to have someone care whether you live or die.

"But you came along, and all of a sudden, someone *did*. I died in your arms, and was reborn there. You taught me, and looked after me. You were the first person I saw every night when I woke, and every morning when I went to sleep for the better part of one hundred years. I told you how I felt, ignorant that I was."

Spike's voice hitched once, before he was able to get his next words out. "And you never once answered me. Do you remember?"

+ + + + +

The older vampire leant down and cleaned the traces of blood away from his childe's lips. They parted instantly, and his features melted back into William's attractive human mask. Angelus stepped over the body of his offspring's first victim to claim Will in a harsh, bloody kiss.

"I.. love you.. Angelus.." Will gasped when their lips parted. A sardonic smile curved the dark-haired man's mouth, and he leant down to ravage his childe once again.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

William's fingers began to slow the lazy patterns they'd been tracing over his sire's chest. The dark head was pillowed on the older vampire's torso. Tapered fingers slowed to a stop as drowsiness finally took over.

".. love.. you.." William sighed against his cushion of alabaster skin.

"Dream with me, Will," Angelus pressed a kiss to the top of that dark head, before folding and arm behind his head and immediately falling into a deep and satisfying sleep.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The sounds of the party seemed miles away, as Will's back was pressed roughly against the hedge. Blunt teeth nipped their way up the slender column of his throat, while large hands roved over his body, taking in every angle, curve and nuance.

William's gasp was swallowed by Angelus as his mouth covered his childe's.

"Angelus, I lov-" His sire's throaty chuckle cut him off, and lips descended for another devastating kiss.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"Angelus?"

The older vampire turned with more than a hint of exasperation. Dru held his hand and swung on it like a child. There were far more things he'd rather be doing to her than just hold hands, but it seemed he was always getting interrupted by something-

He gazed on Will's grief-stricken face.

Or someone.

"I- I love you.." the younger man spoke, voice wet with his heart's blood.

Angelus looked a moment longer. "Goodnight, Will." he replied, before continuing up the stairs, Dru's song in his ears.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The night air was rich with the scent of apple blossoms. Angelus traced a finger down the seam of Will's pants, one of his childe's cigarettes dangling from his lips. Their earlier fight forgotten, William leant into his touch. He opened his eyes and stared into the dark mahogany pools that were his sire's.

"Angelus," he began. "I just want you to know that I l-"

"I know lad," the older vampire interrupted, a smile curving the corner of his mouth. He took the cigarette out of his mouth and stuck it in Will's. The younger man chuckled and blew a smoke ring in Angelus' direction.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

His clothes in tatters, Angelus dropped to his knees, setting Will on the ground, but never once relinquishing his embrace. Smoke stung his eyes, and it rent his heart to hear his childe's pained sobs. The burns would heal -- in time. William's arms were locked around his neck, and his body trembled with fear.

"Ange- gelus.." he whimpered. "..lo-ove yoo-oou.. love yoo-u.. loo-ove yooou.." the younger man repeated like a mantra, weeping in agony and terror.

"Shhh..." Angelus attempted to soothe his childe, running his fingers through dark hair. "Ye'll be fine. Ye wilna be hurt again."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"... the Spear-point that gives battle; I am the god that creates in the head of man the fire of thought-"

Angelus stopped reading and leant back against the bedhead as Will yawned. "Want to join her, do ye?" He gestured to the curled up form of Drusilla at the bottom of the bed, clutching her doll and dreaming little girl dreams.

Will stifled a second yawn and shook his head slowly, moving to nestle his smaller body comfortably next to his sire's. He rested his head against the curved muscle of a strong shoulder and shut his eyes. Angelus smiled, knowing it would only be a matter of minutes before Will slept as soundly as Drusilla. He began reading again.

"Who is it that enlightens the assembly upon the mountain, if not I? Who telleth the ages of the moon, if not I?"

"Love you...Angelussss..." The last letter of his name was lost in a worldweary sigh, and William was asleep. A soft smile curved the older vampire's lips. He closed the book and pressed a tender kiss to his eldest childe's forehead, softly reciting the last line of verse.

"Who showeth the place where the sun goes to rest, if not I?"

+ + + + +

Angel looked out to the east, unable to meet Spike's eyes. He was overcome with the vampire's emotion, as well as his own, as image upon image of the younger man laying his feelings bare crashed into him like waves.

He remembered almost every instance. He also remembered his reaction each time.

Spike was right. Not once. Not even *once* had he ever reciprocated. It always seemed a bit too much like a weakness to admit to. There was no question that the demon Angelus loved his first childe -- the events of two years ago notwithstanding.

Actions may speak louder than words.. but no-one could ever live without *ever* having heard that precious sentence.

"Even now you can't say it... I know you remember," Spike said, his voice soft. "I can't help who I am. I still love you." He laughed, a bitter and painful sound with a sharp edge -- and the edge was turned towards himself. "How can I when I wouldn't even bloody well *be* here if it weren't for you?"

Spike stood, and lit his last cigarette, snapping the silver lighter shut succinctly. "But it doesn't mean I have to like it, or that I have to accept *you*. Just because we're immortal, doesn't mean this shit can go on forever.

"This is the end, Angel. I can't do this any more. I *won't* do this anymore." He paused then, looking down at his sire's upraised face, watching those dark eyes become moist. "I tried to leave you so many times... but you probably didn't even know. You always found me, brought me home. And home was wherever you were.

"This time, home is wherever you *aren't*." Spike's voice was suddenly devoid of emotion, cold and calculating. "I never want to see you again, not unliving, not as a pile of ashes. I may love you, but I just don't *care* any more.

"Don't talk to me, don't track me down, don't say your sorry. Because it's too little, too fucking late." He looked down at the object in his hand, and tossed it into the older vampire's lap. Angel blinked in surprise at the antique lighter.. caressing its cold surface, feeling the ridges of its engraving. When he looked up, Spike was standing a little further away.

"Something to forget me by. Told you I was better at taking care of your possessions than you were."

It wasn't until Spike turned to leave that Angel finally regained his voice.

"Spike!" He cried, confused and desperate. Receiving no reaction, he shocked his legs to run after his childe. "WILL!" he called, the distress evident in his voice.

The blond turned and took one last look at his sire, dishevelled, desperate and grief-stricken, a tear running down that perfect cheek.

"Goodnight, Angelus." He said quietly, before reaching his car, and driving away.

~fin

Title: Casualties (10/12)

This branched off from about mid- s4/s1, and is still firmly lodged there. No Shanshu, no Darla, no Hotel.

Angry. Ferocity. Rage. Fury. Exacerbation. Hysterical. Berserk. Savage. Explosive. Unappeasable. Wrathful. Incensed. Wild. Hostile.

Condensed into three simple letters; mad.

Angel was mad.

From his point of view, he had a lot to be mad about. And all his reasons seemed to involve Spike in some way.

No, not Spike, Will.

That was one of the reasons.

He hadn't been mad-destroy-everything-in-sight-mad for quite some time. He'd forgotten how exhausting it could be. But in all honesty, the exhaustion probably had more to do with the dried tear tracks on his face.

He kicked at his overturned desk chair, listening for the splintering crack of wood as one of the castor legs snapped. Tiny splinters of wood flew everywhere, digging into his legs like miniature daggers with a delicious kind of pain.

Angel was mad.

The dark haired vampire had come home from what seemed to be his final meeting with his childe four days ago. Cordelia had waited in the office all night, hoping for some good news concerning what she considered her boss's misbegotten brat, but to no avail. One look at his less than flawless appearance, red eyes and creased clothes, she knew it this story didn't have a happy ending.

((Goodnight, Angelus))

He didn't even need to punctuate his already miserable bearing with a short, despairing shake of the head. He knew he didn't have to explain himself to her, and that she wouldn't push it.

Cordelia and Wesley had been more than understanding over the last few days, and had just gotten on with business, not bothering to snap him out of those times when his attention just seemed to drift, and his eyes misted over. They just picked up where he left off when the dark haired vampire managed to jar himself out of it.

Angel appreciated it at first. Then he began to get tired with it. Then it began to annoy him. Then frustrate him.

Now it just grated on raw nerves.

He couldn't take their understanding any more. Angel *wanted* them to ask, because then he didn't have to deal with his mistakes alone any more. Privacy seemed like such a good idea before, but now it just meant it tore his insides up alone. Shredding them until all that was left was a big, bleeding hole filled with nothing.

((Will!))

((The name's *Spike*.))

Angel was mad.

There was only so much he could take the acrid taste of his own failure and broken promises before he couldn't deal with it any more. Only so many days he could contemplate his utter inadequacy as a sire and a father and a friend and a lover and a vampire and a man before it all came flooding out in a vicious burst of self-hatred and destruction.

Only so much he could think about and failing and lying to Will

(Spike)

before he just wanted to die.

((Will, there wilna be a night where I wilna come back t' ye. It dinna matters who calls me away, I'll always return t' ye.))

((Promise?))

The dark-haired vampire had been seen as the stoic, immovable rock for so long. From being accused of being cold and unfeeling, to being praised for his calmness in the face of trials, Angel had always masked his innermost emotions so well.

But there is only so much mismatched armour you can wear before chinks start developing.

And there was one there... and there.... oh, and a large one there...

What was that old adage about not being able to get blood from a stone? The vampire shook his hand and watched crimson droplets spatter on broken furniture.

This rock was bleeding, baby.

The time for dealing with his feelings in a quiet and dignified manner had passed. The fist-sized hole in his wall attested to that.

Angel was Not Stoic. Angel was Not Immovable.

Angel was Mad.

He couldn't believe that a single entity could fuck up as many times or as consistently as he had. If half of his misfortunes had happened to anyone else, Angel would have whistled and shook his head, and wonder whether that person was either stupid or god-cursed.

Maybe both.

Well.. it was true, wasn't it?

Mistakes dogged him from his birth, followed him through his demonic life, and again through his ensoulment. And deep down, where his innermost thoughts were truth, its three edged sword stabbed him deep in his sad and weary heart.

There was no way he could make this right.

((You said you'd never do this to me))

((I- I know, lad,. I dinna mean to. Y'do know tha', don't ye?))

((I know))

Angel was mad.

His office, once straightened out from Hurricane Spike was now a mess once again. But it made sense to the dark haired vampire. He had been to quick to clean up the touch of his childe, only to be the one to throw the room back into chaos. Once again, Spike was right and he was wrong.

He could have saved a lot of effort by just leaving it a wreck.

Thinking of his childe's fury and anger incensed Angel's own once again --albeit directed at himself -- and his mad, yellow-eyed gaze turned to the large volume on the floor.

((Spike had wanted to find and touch the last thing he knew his sire had

held... something he knew the older vampire was fond of.))

A choked hiss caught in his throat as he stalked towards it.

And if one single object besides himself should hold as much blame as he, it was this book.

(("Aye, one more by Amergin an' then it be time t' rest." William nodded and rested his chin in his hands, giving his sire his full attention.))

Lifting the ancient copy of verses of the bard Amergin above his head, and using much of his remaining preternatural strength, he tore the book apart, from cover to cover.

Angel.

Was.

Mad.

Pages fluttered down like leaves off a tree, but Angel didn't notice.

((Will grinned, eyes sparkling, and he began to recite the lilting verse after shooting Dru a salacious smile, but not before interlacing his fingers with his sire's...))

He threw the two covers and much of the contents into his trash can which was miraculously still standing. Thrusting a hand into a pocket, the dark-haired vampire violently searched for an object.

((Soundlessly, he pulled an engraved lighter from his pocket and threw it in William's lap. It took the boy slightly by surprise and he looked up.))

His fingers closed around the cool metal of the silver lighter -- the ridges of the etched griffin cutting into his hands one last time -- and fangs flashed over his lips in a macabre smile.

((It was an antique by now, but he'd taken good care of it, and it was still in top working order... The bleached blond bit his lip and looked down at the intricate swirls and lines that made the griffin))

Flicking the top up, he heard the familiar click and hiss of gas igniting. Staring into the bright blue centre of the flame, he paused for a moment

((Something to forget me by. Told you I was better at taking care of your possessions than you were))

before letting it tumble from his fingers and into the can.

Angel stood still -- mesmerised -- as the flames licked at the antiquated pages of the book, which caught fire instantly. Blackened by fire and heat, the lighter began to sink into the growing ash, until it was hardly visible.

Realising what he had done, and with horror etched on his features, Angel sank to his knees and thrust his hand into the ash and flame-filled bin. He roared in pain as fingers closed around the molten metal, its heat searing the flesh of his hand.

The dark-haired vampire pulled his arm out of the trash, shirt smouldering, flesh burnt, black and bloody. Angel looked down at his hand and only saw what had once been an antique lighter, but was now little more than a contorted lump of silver.

It was then that his freshest wave of tears finally began to course down dirty cheeks. They came quietly at first, without a sound. Gradually, a hiccup or two accompanied them, which steadily built to pain-filled sobs that wracked the vampire's entire body. He rocked back and forth, cradling his mangled hand until a loud burst of air nearby caused him to look up.

Cordelia stood over him with a fire extinguisher and an expression of infinite compassion and concern on her face. With the fire out, she put the extinguisher down and climbed onto his desk. Reaching up, the former cheerleader turned the blaring smoke alarm off.

Angel looked straight ahead, his ridged, tear-streaked face marked with lines of years of realised emotional pain. Uncaring of her clothes, Cordelia knelt down in front of the dark-haired vampire and gently took his injured hand. She tried in vain to get him to drop the metal still burning into his skin, but he would not. Angel responded by lurching forward -- almost as if in slow motion -- and buried his face in her skirt.

((Clear tears, tinged pink with blood on dirty cheeks. Those azure eyes wept for Angel, they wept for Drusilla, and they wept for himself.))

The dark-haired man's sobs grew louder and louder, until his keening lifted in a wailing, inhuman howl that vibrated through every cell of his being. Even Cordelia cringed at the terrible banshee sound, one that she had only heard in her darkest nightmares.

She rubbed his shuddering back in a circular pattern murmuring nonsensical words of comfort. The awful sound died on his lips, and he was deathly silent, though his shoulders still shook.

Cordelia held him as her best friend's soul wept his blood tears.

+ + + + +

It hadn't taken long for him to start talking. Before he knew it, Angel had told his secretary the entire miserable story, from the night of Will's turning, to his goodbye a few short days ago. Throughout his entire account, Cordelia kept silent, occasionally patting his thigh in support.

With a shuddering sigh, Angel finished his tale. He dragged a weary, non-injured hand over his eyes in a vain attempt to banish tears.

Cordelia breathed deeply and held the vampire's newly bound hand. "Angel."

Something in her voice made him look up at her for the first time since she had entered the room. Her hazel eyes met his with a steady, certainty. "I had a vision..."

A shiver ran through Angel's body. Just the way she said it...

...and he knew who it was about.

Supported by Cordelia, the vampire walked slowly out of his ruined personal office to retrieve his trench from the main foyer. With some difficulty, he put his hands through the arms. Turning back, the ex-cheerleader saw a clarity of purpose in her boss' eyes for the first time in days.

"Just tell me where I'll find him."

~fin

Title: One Last Goodbye

Spike blew another smoke ring and looked out towards the water. He lay under a natural rocky outcrop on a lonely stretch of beach in Northern California.

It wasn't his final destination -- not that he really had one -- but it was quiet and secluded and peaceful for the time being. Not to mention a welcome change from the scenery of the past four days' travelling.

The blond vampire had spent his days alternating between driving, sleeping and drinking. It had slowed his progress down significantly, but for one of the first times in his unlife, he had absolutely no agenda.

No agenda, no destination, no rules, no plan, no ties, and definitely no sire.

It wasn't at all what he'd expected it to be like, though. There was no great weight lifted from his shoulders, no black cloud of doubt cleared from his mind.

Spike just felt... numb. Like being anaesthetised, only worse. It felt like he'd had his insides removed with a knife., The wound was cauterized, sealed, so.. all that remained was a big, hollow void.

How poetic... the blond snorted and blew a smoke ring into the air. With eyes half-closed, he breathed in the clear, crisp air of the coming night. There was only twenty minutes or so left until the glow of the sun totally melted down over the horizon.

Something obscured his vision. Spike couldn't tell properly what it was, but it was big enough to seem quite dark through his half-closed eyelids. He opened them slowly, and resisted the urge to snap them shut again, knowing that the action wouldn't make the dark-haired vampire disappear.

Observation had always been a gift, and Spike noticed a number of things first off, all the while looking like he wasn't noticing them. Angel's face was rough with stubble. Hair messed, eyes sunken. His stance was more bent and hunched than usual -- nothing like Angelus' cocky gait, or Angel's firm stoicism. Clothes were rumpled and untidy, and an offwhite cloth wrapped his right hand, upon which flecks of blood were visible.

He must have stood there for a few minutes, before ducking his head under the rock ledging and stepping forward. Spike's entire body tensed as Angel bent down and sat next to him on the sand, a foot or so away.

The blond waited for the vampire formerly known as his sire to open his big mouth. After all, that's the only thing he ever did these days, wasn't it? All talk, no action. But... Angel just sat.

And this was how the first minute passed.

And the second.

And the third.

By the fourth, Spike was mad.

By the ninth, he was furious.

By the fifteenth, he was so upset, his hands were visibly shaking with emotion.

When minute sixteen rolled around, he couldn't take it anymore.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" he blurted out harshly, shooting a confused and angry glare at Angel.

"What is there to say?" the dark-haired vampire replied, not looking away from the sea, shrugging his large shoulders.

"Fine,*why* are you here then?" the blond ground out through tightly clenched teeth. Angel laughed, and it was possibly the saddest sound he had ever heard.

"Truthfully? I have no fucking idea. I just-" he stopped as he met Spike's eyes. He dropped his head and looked back out to the ocean. "I just needed more time."

"Time with me?" Spike asked incredulously. He snorted when Angel nodded. "Oh, this is *priceless*... Over a century fucking about in my life not enough for you? Don't you think you've had enough time already? Don't you think that if it could work, it would have?"

His remarks stung, but Angel was too emotionally numb to feel them. There was a hollowness inside him. He wondered if Spike knew what that was like. The dark-haired vampire watched waves crash onto the sandy shore for a few more moments, before answering, his voice soft and broken.

"I don't know... maybe... maybe not... who can say? I just knew that I needed to see you again, if only to spend a few minutes sitting together on a beach. So maybe I would have one more memory of you to carry in here before you leave me." He tapped bandaged fingers over his heart.

"You can't even *begin* to contemplate getting over yourself, can you? Why does everything have to be about you? *I* made the decision, *I'm* leaving, and you track me down to tell me it's for *you*?" Spike's voice rose angrily over the sound of the ocean. Angel's eye's widened.

"No I- that's not what I meant..."

"You don't say what you mean very often do you? No wonder you can't keep anyone with you..."

Angel blanched visibly, face tight and pinched. Low blow, yes, but it wasn't as though he didn't deserve it. He deserved everything he got from Spike.

"I guess I've had that one coming for a while.." Angel unclenched his jaw and gave a pathetic smile. "And you're right. If I was any good at keeping anyone with me, I wouldn't constantly find myself in these situations. You'd think I'd be used to it now... but the honest to motherfucking god truth is you never get used to being alone. Those who are, are crazy.

"You think you're lonely, Spike? You don't know what it is until you've wandered the world for a hundred years in limbo -- neither one thing or the other... wanting to end your own existence but finding you're too much of a coward.

"I got used to telling people lies and half-truths about what I was thinking or feeling. Made me believe I was doing the right thing. That they, and ultimately I would be better off for it. No connection, no hurt." He shrugged again. "Sometimes you just don't know how wrong you are until it blows up in your face."

"Yeah? Well... serves you right," Spike answered caustically. "I'm a demon, Angelus, the demon you made me to be. And doing stuff that mortals find horrific just comes with the bleedin' territory. But never once have I ever lied about my feelings for you or about you, *from* you." He fixed Angel with a piercing stare. "I may not like the truth, but I've never hidden from it."

Angel pursed his lips together and nodded regretfully in agreement. William had always worn his heart on his sleeve -- in any incarnation. Silence except for the crashing of the waves descended again. The sun was only a glimmer behind the horizon now, and pink sky was rapidly darkening to blue.

Spike toyed with his bourbon bottle. He was feeling so many things at once-- anger, longing, resentment, bitterness, sadness -- that he couldn't decide on anything to say or do. It was obvious Angel wasn't exactly in his usual preach-slash-lecture, although he wouldn't rule it out. That made the situation almost bearable.

But the silence...

"Cordelia had a vision," Angel murmured out of the blue. Spike raised his eyebrow.

"And you're here? Aren't you out supposed to be saving whatever pathetic loser it was about?"

"Maybe I'm already trying," Angel replied, giving Spike a self-deprecating half-smile. He swallowed nervously, unsure of what the blond's reaction might be. "It was about me."

The bark of laughter Spike emitted startled Angel momentarily. "You?!" he exclaimed. "You're the pathetic loser? There *is* a god."

"Powers. The Powers That Be." Spike waved his hand dismissively at the correction, still chuckling morbidly. Angel continued, doing his best to ignore the blond's mocking laughter. "They were the ones that told me where you were... I wouldn't have found you otherwise,"

Spike tapered off his laughing, his face becoming serious. "Now why would these Powers of Goody-Good care what the fuck happens to a vampire like me?"

"I don't know," Angel spoke after a moment, "But I believe they care because *I* do."

"Don't flatter yourself -- or me -- by pretending you do, Angelus, I--"

Angel's eyes narrowed. He knew he'd never admitted it to anyone else but himself in the past, but the constant reminder of this particular failing was too much.

"Give me a break!" Angel shot back. "I am so tired of everyone else telling me what I'm feeling! When I don't care I get told I should, and when I do, I get told I don't. Well, I actually *do* care, Will, and my life would be so much simpler if I didn't. I know I've fucked up in the past 200 years or so, I know I've done it a lot. But there *were* times I proved my feelings, right?"

"What *are* your feelings, Angel?" Spike asked.

"Will, you were my perfect boy... my lover and friend and student. Words seem paltry to try and describe it..."

"*Try*." The blond looked at Angel, his voice tainted with longing, but Angel was too far into his own thoughts to notice.

"From the moment you were Turned, you were my first priority. I kept you by my side day and night because you were a fledgling, and then because I was training you... at least, that was what I allowed Darla and the minions believe... the truth was you were anything I had ever desired wrapped in one being, and you were *mine*..." Angel laughed softly. "You can't begin to imagine how good that made me feel... and I knew it. I knew what I felt for you, and what you felt for me. And I was afraid.

"I didn't know what telling you would do to my standing with Darla, with the vampire community... I had so much to lose... I never realised *not* telling you would raise the stakes from my position and my sire -- to you.

"I loved you, William," Angel murmured, using Spike's full name for emphasis. "And who am I now if I'm not still loving you? I certainly don't make it a habit of trashing my office, burning antique books, and lighters, and the flesh right off my hand for just anybody..." Angel unwrapped the simple dressing on his right hand, revealing his red raw and blistered skin.

Angel finally turned to his childe. The blond's head hung down, chin touching his chest. The older vampire didn't know what he was doing. Probably trying to block out the sound of his sire's useless babble. Calling on the last of his courage, Angel spoke once more.

"If there was ever any doubt in your mind over what I feel for you, I am sorry. Will, I loved you then, I love you now, and the odds are strong I will love you still tomorrow," Angel looked away, eyes misting over. "Though it's probably a little too late..."

Was it? The blond bit down on his lip hard. How many times had he been in this exact situation? How many times had he left his sire, with the intention of never coming back, only to be found and promised that whatever had happened would never happen again?

Too many.

Spike knew the routine. Angelus tooled for forgiveness, Spike he gave it, and then Spike went straight back to being an emotional fucking doormat.

The bad times had been horrible, but to their credit, the good times with his sire had been mind-blowing. He had learnt and experienced so much... sometimes it hadn't mattered that Angelus had never verbally reciprocated his feelings, just as long as he was still there in the morning...

The big question was, was this time any different? Actually, The situation was almost exactly the same. The blond inwardly ached over the possibilities. Maybe he was being fucked over again. If that was the case, he knew in his heart he certainly wouldn't survive the experience. There was only so much anyone -- even a demon -- could take.

He *knew* it would be easy to say no, but... there was something in the dark-haired vampire's voice, in his words, in his eyes, in the bloody *air*... it spoke of change. Maybe the Higher Muckety-Mucks really *did* want to help them out... after all, who didn't deserve a bit of closure after two hundred years of angst?

Spike missed everything about his sire. His voice, his vanity, the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he found something amusing.

The way Angel always made him feel safe and loved, even if he never said so.

Which, coincidentally, was what he'd just said now.

Was it worth one last try?

"It's never too late," Spike hoarsely replied, decision made. He lifted his head. Tears ran unheeded down his cheeks, full of emotion and relief and bitterness over lost time.

"It's not?" Angel asked, feeling moisture build up in his own eyes.

Spike smiled shakily, looking strangely happy as tears streaked his face. "I've waited my entire existence for this, I'm not about to bloody well reject it now."

Angel surreptitiously moved closer, his knee making contact with Spike's thigh, as the blond swallowed and continued. "I thought cutting all ties to you would make everything okay... y'know... because *I* was doing it this time, not you..." he sniffed and wiped his face on the arm of his duster. "But it's the equivalent of cutting off an arm, or gouging out an eye... It hurts in a way that I can't ignore.

"Yeah, the physical ties were gone, but everything in here," he touched his chest. "was... *is*... still crying out for you. And if there's one thing I do well, it's listen to my feelings. No matter what position they might put me in..." the last comment was a subtle jibe at Angel's reasoning, and he knew it.

"Will," Angel half-laughed, half-sobbed, bringing his uninjured hand up to wipe at the stream of tears flowing down his childe's cheek. Spike's hand came up to hold Angel's to his face.

"I've needed you so much, Angel. I think maybe I've only realised how much now."

"Funny," Angel ran his fingers down the carved cheekbone. "I've always known."

The light touch of fingers became a hand cupping Spike's cheek. The blond shut his eyes as his sire's hand cradled his face. It was an intimate gesture he hadn't felt since...

(("Angelus," Spike asked, voice cracking slightly. "What the bleeding hell is wrong with you? This obsession with the Slayer bitch... you're not... it's not like you."

"Jealous?" the dark-haired vampire asked, reaching down to the wheelchair's height, taking the blond's head in his hands. "Green is *such* a great colour on you.."))

Spike's eyes snapped open. That was certainly a memory he could have not dredged up. Angel's touch wavered.

"Is there.." his throat closed up. "Is there something wrong?"

"You talk too much." Spike replied gruffly, before pressing insistent lips to his sire's.

The feeling was startling. To Angel, the blond tasted of long-forgotten Sunnydale. Of crypts and dust, and fighting.

Of blood... so much blood...

He had never kissed the bleached blond punk in front of him. The last time had been over a hundred years ago, before he'd ever known the power of a gypsy curse. The lips he kissed were cool and familiar.. at the same time more forceful than he remembered.

Spike's hands seemed to be everywhere and nowhere at once; dancing fingertips down strong neck muscles, squeezing biceps through leather, tracing the seam of his pants. Angel jolted. He wasn't used to being the passive partner -- a century with a soul certainly hadn't dimmed *that* thought in his mind.

By the same token, the William he had known was never one to take command, not when it came down to this.

Always the perceptive one, Spike squeezed Angel's arm, newly divested of its jacket. "Things change," he murmured, biting on the older vampire's bottom lip. "Go with it."

He did.

Spike got the familiar knot of desire in his belly when Angel responded to the blond's teeth tugging on his ear. The whimper of desire and frustration was as familiar to him as his own voice. There were some things you just couldn't forget. The younger vampire ran his lips down over his sire's throat, aware of the hypersensitivity of the region, and elicited a choked off snarl. One hand tried in vain to remove his shirt, jacket long gone.

Lifting his shirt off his head, Spike moved forward -- seating himself in his sire's lap -- and joined their mouths together once again. He tasted the saltiness of their combined tears, but not just from today. From lifetimes ago. Sometimes they were his tears combined with the dark-haired vampire's... sometimes it was the sorrow of a small, blond girl he had left behind... or tears shed for a young Irish half-demon...

Too many thoughts. The blond's hands made short work of Angel's shirt, and soon cold skin was blessedly pressed against cold skin. Spike moaned in triumph when he touched the large curves of his sire's chest. It had always been the safest haven he had ever known... wrapping his arms around Angel's large form, he none too gently pushed the older vampire back and down onto his discarded clothes.

Nimble fingers removed two pairs of footwear and began on the clasp of the dark-haired man's pants. It was almost amusing to see the look of simultaneous desire, love, fear, confusion and outrage in those mahogany eyes.

Perfect combination, really.

Angel lifted his hips up off the sand, assisting the removal of his trousers. Spike began on his, but was stopped by two large hands coming to rest on his own. The older vampire sat up and -- not without difficulty -- fumbled with the clasp of his jeans. It took a few moments with the burnt hand, but he eventually got it.

With all physical barriers gone -- and mental ones crumbling by the moment-- Angel gently changed places with his childe, laying him down on the sand. He may have been nervous and unsure as all hell, but he still knew how these things were supposed to work.

Spike looked up at his sire, blue eyes blazing like the centre of a flame. The dark-haired vampire ran his injured hand down the blond's lean musculature, the comforting coolness of his skin chilling the throbbing fire that still ate at the appendage. He took Spike's erection in his other hand, stroking the velvety skin. Spike ground his teeth together, and even entertained the submissive gesture of parting his legs and bending knees in preparation, but never lowered his searing gaze from his sire's.

With his own desire threatening to overcome him, and wanting to keep some semblance of control, Angel's demonic countenance surfaced long enough for him to shallowly bite into his own wrist. He used the blood to coat his manhood, before licking the wound until the flow of ichor stopped.

Already impatient, the scent of sireblood drove Spike to distraction. He flared his nostrils and gurgled deep in his throat.

"Will?" Angel questioned, positioning his hips.

"Sire," Spike answered, his voice gravelly. "*Now*."

With a thrust, Angelus and William were one again.

Angel took it slowly, but even slowly, the time it had taken to get to this place had done most of the work for them. With slow, even thrusts and a hand around his childe's erection, the dark-haired vampire felt his face change. They were together again emotionally, and physically, but one tie still remained broken.

When pleasure reached its peak a few moments later, Angel plunged his fangs into the waiting neck of the blond.

((The man cowered in fear. He looked up at his attacker, praying for mercy, the police, a miracle, *something*.

Cold blue eyes told him he would get none.

White fangs cut like razors into the soft flesh of his throat. His lifesblood did little more for him any more than stain his white shirt red. But before he did indeed let go of consciousness (and subsequently, living) he heard two cryptic words from Death.

"For Angelus."))

The memory sent Angel's mind reeling. Then there was another... and another... and another... Scene upon scene of Spike hunting, during the time of his ensoulment. A hundred years of pain and death and suffering...

All in his name.

The emotions were as real as if he had performed those acts himself. Tears began to fall, and Angel wept for the curse, and his childe's rage, and the innocents that suffered for him, even as Spike's teeth punctured the flesh of his throat.

The blood of his sire coated his tongue, and Spike writhed in pleasure. He allowed himself to be swept away by the current of electricity that was purely his sire.

(("You're pathetic, you know? Not worth the bloody effort."))

An image of himself flashed through his mind. He spoke with a hatred he had rarely felt in his voice... Angel was bruised and bleeding on the ground. It was a specific situation that he had never been a part of...

(("But, I guess I'll make the exception.."))

... in this reality.

((And Angel screamed.))

Spike's head buzzed with the scream. It ripped right through him as if it had happened right next to his ear. Being tormented by those he still cared about... it tore Angel apart inside. And he remembered something...

((Angel gave a futile tug on the manacles. Spike chuckled, amused. The dark-haired vampire shot him a glare, but Spike didn't care. He wanted the Gem, and no one would get in his way. He cast a look at his sire's prone body.

No one.

"So, are you going to do it?" he asked abruptly.

"Naw, not worth the bloody effort," Spike shrugged offhandedly.

And it was as if the words knifed through him. The blond viciously suppressed the fear and concern of his own when utter terror rippled across Angel's face. It didn't matter who, no one got in his way.

No one.))

Spike cried out in anguish into Angel's neck, only to feel a large hand come and stroke his hair back. The dark-haired vampire, still deep inside him -- physically and emotionally -- rocked back and forth. He covered the younger vampire's body with his own, blanketing it in a comforting way.

Angel murmured platitudes and attempted to reign his own thoughts, as well as soothe his childe. The cycle of renewal they had experienced was not without consequences. It seemed they had both gotten a front row seat in their lives without one another.

Retracting his fangs from Spike's neck, Angel allowed his human mask to descend. He licked at the excess blood and drew away to make eye contact with his childe. The blond's eyes were wide and yellow still. Angel stroked the side of his face until yellow dissolved in a pool of blue, and ridges melted away.

Somehow, they were both thinking the same thing.

Angel brushed his lips across Spike's.

"I still love you."

Spike's face gave way to a weak, relieved smile.

"Always, sire." he replied simply.

And for the moment, they were both content with that.

~fin

Dedication: to all the people that have ever taken time to send me feedback for this piece. It's been my own personal thrash with what Joss first presented us with as canon (back in s2), so thanks to everyone who remembered that and read. In particular, this is for my three beta bunnies, Tink, Jess, and Saber, who have all taken the role of 'Av's Advisors' at some point, and have all been subject to me mailing them half-finished chapters, typing 'IS THIS ALRIGHT?!' in caps *g*

But most of all, to Donna, whose beta guidance, enthusiasm and absolute wealth of ideas, I would've been lost without. She personally took to 10 out of 12 eps of this series, and I can't thank her enough. Well, I tried my best by putting smut into the previous chapter. Ta muchly Sandra for the name. Your List rocks! And Michael Leunig, whose poem I used.

Always Means Forever

Low tide, and the waves lapped at the shore. The noise they made was comforting and soothing. That was what Angel thought, anyway. It just so happened he also thought the same of the weight of the slim, long-fingered hand placed on his chest.

Angel was too thoughtful to sleep. It seemed as though a lifetime had taken place in between the moment when he had shown up at Spike's Sunnydale crypt and now. The dark-haired vampire was hyper-aware of every second that ticked by. He had never been *more* aware of the passage of time until this moment.

It seemed that talk just confused a lot of the issues between them. Still, he really wished Spike would stop feigning sleep and-

"The beach and brooding just aren't mutually exclusive events for you, are they?" Spike's voice broke the stillness, slightly roughened from slumber.

"'Mutually exclusive'?" Angel queried, a rare smile tickling the corner of his mouth.

"I just woke. No time to dumb up my speech for you."

"Well Professor," Angel answered indignantly. "The beach and brooding aren't events. One is a place and the other is a-"

"Lifestyle choice?" Spike raised his head and looked at his sire. Azure eyes were bright and clear, but their heavy lids gave his exhaustion away.

"Are you done?" the older vampire asked, his face dismally attempting to stay serious.

Spike stretched with a feline grace. "Never." he replied before settling himself back down into Angel's loose embrace. "Besides, brooding's always been an event for you."

Angel squeezed Spike briefly in reprimand and went back to looking out at the waves in the distance. Moonlight shone off the sparkly white foam of the breakers, making them glitter with a phosphorous glow.

"This is your cue to say something sodding well all poetic and meaningful, and have a good old brood."

Angel wondered when he'd become so transparent. "It is?" he asked.

"If you want to get technical."

The dark-haired vampire chuckled softly. He missed the banter and camaraderie. Cordelia and Wesley -- and before him, Doyle -- were friends he could count on, but Spike was blood of his blood.

Wanting to complete Spike's prediction, Angel dropped his voice softer than usual -- to the tone he had always adopted in the past when reciting verse.

"When the heart

Is cut or cracked or broken

Do not clutch it

Let the wound lie open

Let the wind

From the good old sea blow in

To bathe the wound in salt

And let it sting

Let a stray dog lick it

Let a bird lean in the hole and sing

A simple song like a tiny bell

And let it ring."

A long moment of silence passed, filled only by the crashing of waves, before Spike dared break the spell.

"See? The two-thirty five Angel train passed into Brood Station right on time." Spike mocked his sire with his words, but Angel did not miss the meaning of his childe tightening his grip around his chest, resting the bleached blond head under Angel's chin. The entire length of Spike's body was pressed intimately against the dark-haired vampire's -- every available square inch of his flesh touching the other.

Security, friendship, family.

The blond's head moved slightly, indicating he was speaking.

"You know I can't stay."

It was a statement, not a question.

"I know." The older man answered.

And they watched the waves together.

+ + + + +

A few hours before daybreak, Spike and Angel dressed silently -- apart from a few snide remarks from the blond about the brunette getting sand in interesting and varied places.

The car trip back to LA was just as uneventful. Cordelia had driven Angel, seeing as it was painful for the vampire to drive with his slowly healing hand. It took around two and a half hours of driving before they hit the outskirts of LA. During that time, no words were spoken, yet all the important things seemed to pass between them anyway. Angel rested his left hand lightly on his childe's thigh, and it was alright.

The two vampires arrived at the offices of Angel Investigations a little after five a.m. Spike got out of the car and watched as Angel did the same, absently shifting from foot to foot.

The older man stepped onto the sidewalk and spent a long moment taking in the blond's appearance. He walked to stand a foot away from his childe.

"Where will you go?" he asked softly.

Spike shrugged. "Dunno. Anywhere."

Angel studied him carefully. "You could go back to Sunnydale.." he ventured.

Spike snorted contemptuously. "Why the bleeding hell would I willingly go back to that little black hole of despair?"

"You'd be safer there than anywhere else, with that chip." he replied matter-of-factly. Spike cringed at the mention of the behaviour modification device stuck in his head, but after considering the idea, grudgingly accepted the validity of the argument. He certainly wasn't in the mood to become a big pile of dust anytime soon. "Perhaps you could help Giles and Buffy out, for money, or blood."

The blond's face displayed his obvious distaste for the concept. "Any other stellar reasons?"

"I'd know where you were," Angel muttered softly, his face etched in concern.

Spike expelled air harshly though his lips, attempting not to be swayed by the pleading in his sire's mahogany eyes.

Yeah. Right.

"They didn't pay for my help before," he responded, staring at Angel squarely in the chest. "What makes you think they'll start now?"

Angel inwardly breathed a sigh of relief that Spike was even *considering* Sunnydale an option. "Why don't you let me handle that part?"

Spike nodded briefly, knowing what a tough negotiator his sire was.

*His* *sire*.

The blond's insides did the strangest little flip-flop at the thought. He was the kid who had been reunited with an estranged parent after years of abandonment.

But parent just didn't cover all that Angel was.

Teacher, friend, competitor, partner, lover, beloved, sire, demon, angel and a hundred other things rolled into one.

And he would be all of those things again, and more.

Soon.

It just wasn't as easy as one night of shagging making all the problems disappear. Although, Spike thought as a faint smile curled his lips, it sure as hell was a fun way to start them moving..

Regardless, they both needed some time to process their new positions in each other's lives -- even going so far as to find out exactly what they *were* -- before anything could happen.

So many things had changed, and yet, so many had stayed the same. When Spike looked up at Angel now, he saw his *sire*, and that was worth enough to him to wait for.

Angel wrapped his arms around Spike's smaller form, hugging him tightly to his body. The blond melted into his arms, drawing from and infusing strength into the embrace in equal measures. Angel drew back to look at the younger vampire in the eyes, not relinquishing his hold.

"When do you think we'll be ready?" Spike asked, voice low.

"I don't know, childe," the dark-haired man sighed softly. "Who knows how long it could be until we're both less screwed up than we are now? Besides, you still have things you need to deal with on your own," Angel inclined his head towards Angel Investigations. "As have I."

"The superhero thing, gotcha," Spike laughed weakly. "It's not just a job, it's an adventure, right?"

Angel's face was sombre. "It's something I have to do."

"I know, "Spike whispered, laying his head against the larger man's chest. Angel's hand came up to run his finger's over the blond locks.

"No matter the distance, you'll always stay in my heart."

"Forever?" Spike asked, voice wavering with emotion.

Angel drew back once again and looked into stormy cerulean orbs. "However far away." he replied, voice firm with promise. He pressed his lips to his boy's forehead.

Spike angled his head up, and they shared a brief, tender kiss. Once over, the younger vampire stepped back, looking sad, but strong.

"Goodbye W- Spike," Angel said, correcting himself clumsily.

Spike looked across to his sire through sooty lashes. A charming, boyish smile curved pale pink lips.

"It's okay, Angelus," he said, voice barely above a whisper. "You can call me Will."

The blond looked at Angel one more time before getting back into his car. He didn't look into the rearview mirror, knowing he would see nothing but an empty street.

But he knew Angel was there, behind him.

He would be for a very long time.

+ + + + +

Four days after his return to Sunnydale, the bleached blond vampire was curtly summoned to the ex-Watcher's house, whereby he was given a list of conditions he would submit to if he wanted to be paid for services rendered. Spike immediately found leverage and before Buffy could blink, he had wrangled a cash advance, bagged human blood and a 'no staking' policy.

"Is that it? Will you help?" Giles asked stiffly.

"Will I help *please*? Honestly, Rupert, a little politeness goes a long way."

Ignoring the blond's reprimand, Giles spoke again. "The recommendation for your services came directly from Angel. Do you have any idea why he might suggest this to me?"

"I'd like to know, too," Buffy stood, arms crossed, scowl in place." He hates you. I hate you. Everybody hates you Spike. The Angel *I* know would never recommend you for anything other than a holy water bath followed by a thorough staking."

(The Angel *I* know)

Spike smiled mysteriously and opened the door. "There are more things in heaven and earth than are dreamt of in your philosophy, Horatio."

"Horati-who?"

Spike glanced at Giles. "You've got yourself some Fangs for Hire. You know where to find me." With a condescending look at the Slayer. he shut the door behind him and left.

The blond found himself whistling as he walked back to the crypt.

Things seemed to be pulling out of the nosedive they had previously been in. Okay, so he was still chipped, and helping the people he rather well despised in an official 'Rent-A-Vamp' capacity now.

But there was a bright side. Well, a less darker side at least. He wouldn't go quite so hungry any more (scoring human blood, to boot), and would be able to afford the human creature-of-the-night comforts he had become accustomed to, like smokes and cereal.

Bashing demons not only helped with the craving for violence and the hunt, but also the entertainment factor.

The best aspect of his situation by far, though, was the fact that it would eat Buffy up that Angel had spoken to Giles. This could be milked indefinitely.

Angel...

Spike's thoughts drifted to his sire. For once they weren't accompanied by the taste of bile in his mouth and a violent outburst.

A very large part of him would have loved nothing more than to tuck his Docs under one side of Angel's bed and never leave the dark-haired man's side again. But he knew that just wasn't possible right now. He was still too angry over some things, hurt by others. The fact that he'd readily admitted he still wanted Angel in his life did not make such issues vanish. Many memories of their time together were still tainted with jealousy and

resentment. Angel was by no means ready to just let his childe back into his life, either.

Things to do, Powers to Be...

Spike didn't understand the need for redemption -- having always been proud of his actions -- but he accepted it as something his sire had to obtain.

And maybe, just maybe, he would learn to forgive himself in the way Spike would one day forgive him.

The blond quirked his lips as he opened the door to his home.

Angel may still be the faggy, anal retentive pillock he'd always been...

"But he's *my* faggy, anal retentive pillock,"

Spike's smirk stretched into a smile that felt good on his face.

"And I wouldn't ever have it any other way."

~fin

Epilogue

The package arrived at Giles' home by a bored looking courier boy.

As soon as the sun set Spike turned up, having been sent a missive earlier. He stared impassively at the small, nondescript brown parcel. It was addressed simply to 'Spike, c/o Rupert Giles' and postmarked L.A.

Even without the Angel Investigations card taped to the back as return address info there was no mystery as to who the sender might be.

"Aren't you going to open it here?" Willow asked, curiosity finally getting the best of her tongue. Buffy scowled, an expression she was growing accustomed to wearing around Spike, *especially* in relation to anything to do with her ex.

The blond's answer was to pick up the small parcel and exit without so much as a word.

Giles raised his eyebrow. "A simple 'no' would have sufficed."

Spike walked quickly through the streets, resisting the urge to bolt. Once back home, he locked the door. The vampire placed the box on his stone sarcophagus and stared at it for a long while.

Trembling fingers opened the box and gingerly sifted through the little styrofoam pellets inside. Presently, his hand wrapped around something smooth and cold... quite possibly metallic...

Spike was struck well and truly speechless as he retrieved a heavy silver lighter from the parcel.

The ridges of the engraved griffin pressed into his palm as he traced a finger over the design of two initials on the upturned side. A beautiful 'W' gracefully curved and entwined with an 'A', tangled and woven together so closely it was impossible to tell where one letter ended and the other began.

If that wasn't enough to close Spike's throat with emotion, underneath the mythical animal on the other side were etched three words;

'However far away'.

Spike caressed the object lovingly as if it were his most precious possession in the world. Which, of course, it was. The vampire slipped the lighter into a top pocket of his duster and patted it down, feeling its outline resting comfortingly close to his dead heart.

Some of their old memories may not have been golden, but he and Angel could make new and better ones some day.

Together.

~fin

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