Spike stood at the top of the garden wall and stared bleary eyed down into the mansion's inner courtyard. With the exception of his evening in Rio and three nights in Bogota, he'd been behind the wheel of the De Soto for well over a month. Exhaustion had become an angry buzz echoing in his head and he felt the road in every aching muscle. No longer feeling connected to his body, Spike stumbled gracelessly down the stairs and into the garden, his gaze fixed on the double doors that opened into the living room of his former home.
There was a vague drunken memory of peering through boards that had been hastily nailed in place to hold back the sun. Someone had been fixing up the place. Once again, there were nice big glass doors that would let in all the nice bright sunlight, that channeled down the light well that was the courtyard garden. "Git!" he sneered.
That was assuming that Angel still inhabited the mansion. Spike frowned and pushed away the thought. Where else would the bastard be? Without knocking, he opened one of the doors and strode into the room, startling Angel from his book in front of the fire.
"Don't you ever move?"
"Spike?"
"Yeah. Hallo, Sunshine. Miss me?" Jittery, strung out and feeling highly vulnerable in the presence of his sire, Spike fought to keep his tone and expression as blithely unconcerned as possible. Casually, he crossed the room as though his very presence was nothing out of the ordinary. Reaching the lone couch in front of the fire - in front of Angel - he flung himself onto it, setting the springs creaking, his black leather duster settling around him with a snap. Folding his arms behind his head and settling back against the cushions, Spike struck a pose of utter nonchalance with just a touch of ennui. He managed to hold the pose until, glancing over to gauge Angel’s reaction, Spike caught the title of the book in the older vampire’s hands and read it aloud, "The Dark Made Light: Achieving Spiritual Transformation through Meditations for the Soul?" He began to laugh, a deep rolling laugh that echoed throughout the large stone room.
Angel’s expression darkened as Spike howled with mirth at his sire’s expense. Angel’s mouth, which had dropped open when Spike had entered the room, snapped shut. He waited for the younger vampire to stop laughing. He waited in vain. Angel’s brow furrowed as he detected the edge of hysteria in Spike’s laughter.
"Spike?" Angel finally attempted.
"I’m sorry, Man. I’m sorry." Spike gasped through his laughter, wiping at his wet cheeks. Spike chuckled again. "What, was Controlling Your Inner Demon For Dummies not on the shelf?"
Angel sighed as Spike began to once again to roar with laughter. Rising to his feet, Angel turned his back on Spike and stoked the fire. When the laughter finally ebbed, Angel turned to face Spike again. The blonde vampire was sitting on the edge of the couch, his head in his hands.
"What are you doing here, Spike?"
Spike looked up to meet Angel’s solemn gaze with a somber look of his own. All traces of amusement were gone from the younger vampire’s face.
"Seen Drusilla?" Spike attempted to ask casually, failing and inwardly wincing at the eagerness in his own voice.
Angel snorted causing Spike's expression to harden.
"Have you?" The tone of Spike’s voice now matched his mien, hard and tense. The two vampires glared at each other for several moments.
"No, Spike, I haven't seen Dru," Angel finally replied, turning back to stare into the fire. Angel rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and added, in anticipation of Spike's next question, "I haven't heard anything either." Angel turned back in time to see the raw look of despair that crossed Spike's face.
Spike closed his eyes and leaned back against the couch cushions, unwilling and unable to share his anguish with his sire. For several minutes the only sound to be heard in the great room was that of the fire crackling and the tolling of the hour from of the large grandfather clock near the door.
"Spike?" Angel asked quietly.
"Why do you have a clock?" Spike asked tiredly, without opening his eyes or altering his position. "Why do you care?"
Angel prodded gently. "What’s happened Spike? Why did you think Dru would be here?"
"What the fuck do you care?!" Spike shouted, his head snapping up, his hands fisting against his thighs and his eyes blazing into Angel’s.
Angel was not at all surprised by Spike’s response. It was a valid question. Why did he care? The question brought a recent memory to mind. One that Angel had not taken time to analyze. A little over a month ago, Angel had stepped between Spike and the stake that Buffy had held, poised to strike. Driven by instinct, he’d been unable to let the Slayer destroy Spike. Why? Why should he care about Spike or Drusilla?
You must, a quiet voice inside Angel’s head answered. They are yours.
Angel’s soul was again returned and his burden of guilt for every wrong doing was heavy. Did his burden include Spike and Drusilla? Angel sighed inwardly. Stupid question, he thought. He’d – Angelus, Angel corrected himself - had destroyed Spike and Drusilla. And, Angelus had created them. They were his progeny. His children. Bonded to him as surely had they sprung from his own seed. Did that demonic bond still exist though he had his soul?
Angel said nothing in response, but, crouching down in front of Spike, looked deep into Spike’s glazed, wild eyed stare. The ticking of the clock was all that signaled the passage of time as the two vampire’s stared into each other’s eyes, unmoving. The clocked ticked away the seconds, then the minutes. As the clock again tolled the hour, Spike broke the silence.
Relaxing, Angel shifted to sit on the floor in front of Spike as he - quietly, flatly and with no expression on his face to betray the rolling mass of emotions inside - told Angel of the events in Rio.
"And, when you got to Bogota?" Angel finally asked, knowing Spike well enough to discern where the younger, headstrong vampire would head first.
"I found a lair." Spike’s head fell back again. "Several claimed to have seen her but . . ." Spike shrugged.
"Spoke to one demon, a Rhymer, who said she’d spoken to a vampire matching Dru’s description. She said that other than talking about ‘going home,’ Dru hadn’t made much sense - which actually makes the Rhymer the most credible of those I spoke to." Spike smiled sadly before continuing. "This Rhymer did remember that Dru had been traveling with a couple of vampires, heading north. For some reason, she didn’t know why, Dru hadn’t continued with them..." Spike drifted off, whether in thought or in exhaustion, Angel couldn’t tell.
"So...?" Angel pressed. "You didn’t find Dru in Bogota and assumed that she’d found her way here?"
Staring at the ceiling, Spike shook his head, "I didn’t find her in Bogota. I finally decided..." Spike closed his eyes against the tears that threatened, against the cutting memory of what it had felt like to give up. Angrily, Spike rubbed his hands across his face, sat up straight, and continued. His voice quicker though his tone still flat. "The trail was dead cold. I had a choice between heading back to Rio on the chance that she was returning there for me or continue here..." Spike gestured at his surroundings, "To the only place I’ve heard Dru call ‘home’ in a long, long time."
"I decided that the best thing to do was to come here. So, I called Vi, told her what I was doing and asked her to hire the best tracker in the business." Spike balled his fists and slammed them angrily against his thighs. "I should have done that before I left Rio," he said bitterly. "But, I just headed north, like I was just going to find her somewhere along the road. Valuable time..."
With a crack, the last smoldering log in the fireplace collapsed against the grate, sending a shower of sparks up the chimney and causing both vampires to tense.
Angel rose to his feet to tend to the dying fire. Staring into the smoldering glow, Angel thought of Drusilla. Insane, as delicate as one of her china dolls, Dru did have her lucent and capable moments, but, alone on the road, for over a month? The odds against her survival were far too great.
"I take it then, you didn’t hear anything more of Dru as you continued north?" Angel asked as he knelt to place another log on the fire.
"When I got to Mexico City I did find the two that had given Dru the ride from Rio to Bogota," Spike replied. "They said that they were giving Dru a ride to LA and that she was fine until just outside of Bogota. Then, they said, she became agitated, confused. She got out of the car in Bogota and that was the last they saw of her." Spike looked toward Angel. "I figure that’s when we passed each other, Dru and me. And, Dru, ‘feeling’ me heading south, got confused."
Angel nodded slowly, thoughtfully before turning from the fire to speak. "You can trust Vi to get the best tracker. She won’t let you down." Angel hesitated for a moment before standing and moving back to Spike.
"I'll keep an eye out for her also," Angel assured. "Leave me with a way to contact you. . ." Angel stopped as Spike began to shake his head. "What?"
"She's headed here," Spike resolved. "If I don't stay put, it'll only confuse her again."
Angel didn't question Spike's logic. Angelus might have taken Drusilla’s "gifts" for granted, but he had trusted them, and Angel was no more likely to doubt Dru's abilities.
"Alright," Angel said slowly, knowing what Spike was asking. "You can stay for awhile. Grab a bedroom and get some sleep. You look like hell."
Spike nodded shortly, gratefully, stood and headed for the wide doorway leading to the entry hall and stairs.
"Spike?"
Spike stiffened at the tone in Angel’s voice. Narrowing his eyes and squaring his shoulders, Spike turned to face his sire.
"The Rules," stated Angel, in a quiet, steely tone lightly tinged with a hint of Angelus. "Number one. . ." Angel held up a single finger and paused, demanding Spike’s attention. "No killing."
Spike half snorted and half choked out a laugh of amused disbelief. "You have got to be fucking kidding me!"
A deep growl emanated from Angel, an instinctive response to Spike’s flippancy. Spike, responding just as instinctively, dropped his eyes. It wasn’t enough. Angel crossed the short distance between himself and his progeny in a blur. Grabbing Spike by the back of the neck, Angel forced the younger vampire’s head down, causing Spike to bend at the waist.
Leaning over Spike, dominating him, Angel repeated softly, "You. . .will. . .not. . .kill."
Angel kept Spike physically submissive until he felt the tension in Spike’s neck ease in acceptance of Angel’s mastery. Angel relaxed his grip but stood over Spike a moment longer. Waiting. Spike kept his head bowed.
Angel let go, watching with a trace of amusement flickering in his dark eyes as Spike sprang away, rolling his head and shoulders, trying to erase the feel of Angel’s possession.
Back in control, Angel continued as though nothing had happened. "I will provide for your needs. You, stay out of sight. Keep in contact with Vi, but, don’t show yourself to anyone; vampire, demon or human. No games, Spike, I mean it."
Spike nodded tersely. Then, remembering the strategies that had kept him from splintering apart on the long drive from Bogota, Spike questioned, "What about using the Slayer and her little friends? They’re bloody resourceful. . ."
Angel shook his head. "Don’t go near them."
"But the little witch. . ."
"Spike!" Angel coiled. "I said, stay away from them."
Frustrated, Spike glared impotently at the master vampire. Angel relaxed his stance slightly, understanding the desperation Spike must feel, knowing what it must have taken for Spike to seek his sire’s assistance, let alone wanting to ask for Buffy's help.
As though attempting to placate a recalcitrant child, Angel let his voice soothe slightly. "If Dru doesn’t show in the next few weeks, I’ll see if there is some way I can find out what information Giles might have. Or, see if I can get Willow to work a little magic on her computer - without tipping her off. But you will not endanger the lives of any of those people again." Angel shook his head. "Your last visit created some heavy fallout and the dust still hasn’t settled. ‘The little witch,’ as you call her, is far more likely to stake you on sight than to help you." Angel allowed himself a small smile at the thought of the petite red-head brandishing a stake at Spike .
"But, you’ll do as I say, or so help me, soul or not, responsibility or not, guilt or not, I’ll stake you myself." Angel, his face hard again, emphasized the latter by jabbing a hard finger at Spike’s chest. "Are we clear?"
"Crystal!" Spike snapped as he turned to leave.
"Oh! I almost forgot," Angel followed Spike into the hall. "I don’t think you know. There’s a new Slayer."
Spike swung back towards Angel, a look of surprised shock apparent on his face.
"What?! Oh, hey, Man. I’m sor..." Spike began
"What? No!" Angel interrupted and began to chuckle in spite of himself. Running his fingers through his hair, he attempted to quickly massage away some of the tension that Spike’s arrival had created. His relaxing evening at home was making him extremely tense.
"Buffy’s fine." Angel grinned at Spike "But, I’m sure she’d appreciate your concern."
"Piss off!" Spike responded, angrier with himself than anything else. If he wasn’t so tired and worked up about Dru, his only response to the news of the Slayer’s death would have been to grab his dancing shoes and ask for directions to the grave.
"Faith is Kendra’s replacement." Angel said
"Who the fuck is Kendra?" Spike demanded before a thoughtful look crossed his face. "Oh, wait. Yeah." Spike grinned. "The Slayer that Dru offed," he pronounced with pride.
Angel gave Spike a look of utter contempt before quickly filling him in on what had occurred during the last few months. Faith’s arrival, her killing the Deputy Mayor and trying to pin it on Buffy, Faith’s subsequent defection.
Angel carefully avoided mentioning anything of the part he’d played in getting Faith to admit to her duplicity. Though Buffy insisted she understood that Angel had been placed in an inescapable situation, the fact that he’d fucked Faith was still a seemingly insurmountable barrier between them. Another barrier, he corrected himself. Yet, another...
Angel told Spike about the Mayor, his apparent demonic ties, his creation of Sunnydale for demon kind and the demented man’s plans for the future of the town. By the time Angel had finished, Spike was openly laughing.
"You know, just when Sunnyhell had lost its appeal..."
"Spike." Angel growled in warning.
Spike grinned easily but his mind was busy mulling over the information that Angel had given him. A naughty Slayer and a demon worshipping Mayor? Might be useful. Returning his attention to his sire, Spike waved a careless hand at Angel's glowering countenance.
"Yeah, yeah. I know. You’ll stake me yourself." Spike did a fair mocking imitation of Angel, including the jabbing finger. Waving his hand again, Spike added, "Fret not, Peaches. If I were interested in the 'suburban demon' scene, I'd be in Orange County. At least there you’ve got Disneyland." Spike flashed a quick grin before becoming serious again. "Dru arrives and we’re gone, okay?"
Angel nodded, watching as Spike climbed the stairs to find a bed to sleep in. At the top of the stairs, Spike turned.
"Oh, Sunshine?" Spike sang out. "You being the ‘provider’ and all. I’d like breakfast in bed. B positive, I think. Say around, dusk-ish? There’s a good boy!" Spike’s laughter once again rang through the mansion.
Angel grimaced at Spike’s sense of humour. Still, he mused, the company...Don’t even complete that thought! Angel sighed, shaking his head. As if things weren’t complicated enough. He’d never be able to explain to Buffy why he’d allowed Spike to stay.
Buffy had been confused, but hadn’t questioned him, after he had stopped her from dusting Spike. Then Faith...Shit! Angel turned and stalked back into the living room. Raking his fingers though his hair, he again dug his fingers at the tension, kneading at his neck and shoulders. There was just no way to explain to Buffy - to any human - the bonds that tied him to his progeny.
Angel sighed as he let himself think again of Drusilla. She was surely destroyed. What would happen when Spike finally accepted that she was gone? Angel knew that, if necessary, he must be ready to destroy Spike. Not in spite of their bond, but because of that bond. Angelus’ progeny were his responsibility and, soul or not, if punishment was necessary, it was his - as master and as progenitor - to mete out.
As it had been Darla’s right over him, Angel thought. Never would Buffy understand the strength of will it had taken to destroy his own Sire to save the Slayer. Even now Angel’s mind rebelled against the memory of what he’d done. No, he was not the first to break such a taboo. Lineages constantly evolved through the destruction of the progenitor. But, even Angelus, as ruthlessly brutal as he was, had maintained a certain code of honour regarding the ethics of vampire lineage and the power of the sire. As unnatural as he may be: a vampire, with a soul, allying himself to the Slayer to hunt others of his kind – killing Darla had been, singularly, the most unnatural act Angel had ever committed.
Sidestepping his thoughts, Angel crossed back to the fire. Picking up the book he’d been trying to read, Angel finally allowed himself to laugh at Spike’s comments. It was unfortunate that Spike had caught him flipping through the damn thing. A gift from Joyce Summers, he’d felt duty bound to read through it on the off chance the book ever came up in some unlikely, future conversation. Joyce had given him the book through Buffy, after she’d learned of all he’d been though. Joyce meant well, of course. It was times like those, that Angel could see where Buffy had gotten her good heart. And, Angel smiled affectionately, more than a little of her ditziness.
Angel was not surprised at Spike’s grasp of modern culture. Spike had always made a habit out of staying "current." Reading the papers, listening to the radio, watching the news, whatever media had been available to Spike, he’d taken advantage of it. Angel had only understood Spike’s reference because he’d seen the copy of the bright yellow "Internet for Dummies" that Willow had given to Giles. The concept behind the series of reference books had been explained to Angel as he flipped through the pages while sitting at the computer. He’d been picking up a few pointers from Willow. Angel smiled again, this time in memory of his first computer lesson. Willow hadn’t given up on him, yet.
Although Willow had encouraged him, he’d yet to invest in a computer for his home. The mansion did have electricity but, there were the logistics of bringing in a phone line. He really didn’t see much use in having the computer without having access to the Internet. Both Willow and Oz had offered to come by and wait for the installer. He might take them up on that offer, after all. There were benefits to having access to information and communication from home. Angel thought of his "guest." If Spike didn’t already know how to navigate the Internet, he would have no problem picking up what he needed to know. For all his cocky attitude Spike always had a quick and ready mind. It was one of the things that had first attracted him. . .had attracted Angelus.
Sitting down on the couch, Angel leaned back and stared into the dancing flames. Thinking of the young man Spike had been. The first time Angelus had seen William - No. He’d called himself Will then - it had been a night of fire. Hundreds of fires.
Tightly clenching his eyes shut, Angel struggled briefly and in vain, but the memories won the battle. Quickly swept under, Angel found himself going back to a time and place he’d hoped never to re-visit again.