The Dalliance of the Eagles

Sequal to: Admittance and Musings

Author: GypsyQueen

Summary: In Admittance Spike came looking for acceptance from Angel after the Apocalypse was diverted, and he found it. Now, if only Angel can keep him out of trouble...

Disclaimer: I don't own BTVS or Angel, although I would pay good money for them, if I had it to spend. I don't own Angel, Spike, or Connor, but if I did I would throw them onto a giant trampoline and make them jump for all their worth. Joss Whedon is the genius behind the shows and he is just kind enough to let me play with them for a while, seeing as how I promise to give them back after I'm done. (Although, I didn't promise that they would be intact.)

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~Part: 1~

Spike stomped in through the Hotel's front door and slammed it behind him. He was covered in gunk and wore a scowl that could crack glass. "I'm going to kill you, Angel, and after I kill you, I'm going to spread your ashes over my bed and roll around in them!"

Angel walked out of his office nonchalantly, and looked up at his childe over the book he was reading. He scrunched up his nose in disgust and grunted. "Spike, did you roll around in the sewer?" Angel dropped the book to his side and shook his head. "If you were bored, you could have come in my office and we could have talked or something."

Spike shrugged his duster off of his shoulders, into a heap on the floor, and sloshed over to where Angel stood. "I. Hate. You." He turned on his heels, made his way toward the stairs, and up to his room.

It took Angel a moment to process what Spike had just said but, when he had, he hurried after him. "Spike?" Angel stopped in front of the door and thought about knocking. The last thing he wanted was to be told to 'shove off' so he just walked in. "Spike?" Angel looked around the room and grimaced. Spike had shed his boots and apparently every piece of filthy clothing he had been wearing on his way to the bathroom. The room was a wreck and smelled like a barn. Angel walked over to the bathroom door and heard the shower running. He sighed and leaned against the door, talking through the wood. "What happened?"

"I got attacked by a giant slug, thank you!" Spike yelled from the other side of the door. The sound of water hissed to a stop and Angel could hear Spike padding across the floor, most likely in search of a towel.

"The towels are under the sink. I had Connor put them in there earlier." Angel heard the squeak of a cabinet and smiled when he heard Spike muttering. "What's that? A thank you? Oh, don't worry about it." The door was jerked open, causing Angel to stumble forward and almost bulldoze Spike.

Spike was all but snarling as he pushed past his Sire. He gripped his towel at his waist and made his way over to the bed, just to fall on his face. After burying his head into his pillow, he groaned. "Ahm ah bleedun?"

"Bleeding?" Angel walked over to his childe and sighed. Scratches decorated his back, but none seemed to be bleeding, at the moment. "I'm going to ask once more. What happened?"

Spike groaned into his pillow again and turned his face away from the older vampire. "I'm going to pretend you're not here, and maybe you'll go away."

"Now you're just being childish. You know what? If you don't spill it, I'm going to have a seat on the edge of your bed here and then I'm going to force-feed your mind some poetry. So, who first? Blake? Shakespeare? How about Whitman? Come on, Spike, who do you feel like?"

Spike turned his head toward Angel when he felt the bed sink. "I feel like the man who is about to cut out your tongue if you start reciting poetry." Spike let out an unneeded sigh and looked up at Angel, almost pleadingly. "Sire, do you think you could hold off on the twenty questions until the poison wears off. I'm feeling woozy."

"Poison?!" Angel almost shrieked. "What were you fighting with? You said a giant slug. Were you being serious? I can go look it up..."

"Sorry for cutting you off, but you were starting to sound like a mother hen. Stop worrying. I'll be fine after I rest a little and eat something." Spike pushed at Angel's hip, in hopes that he would take the hint and leave, so he could get dressed. "Angel, do you mind? I could use some privacy. I wanna put on some pants and then go downstairs to get some blood out of the fridge."

Angel looked Spike over again and sniffed.

"You start that again and I'll hurt you." Spike muttered, as his eyes drifted shut.

"I wasn't sniffing like that. I was making a mental assumption and..." Spike's breathing was becoming deeper and more even, so Angel stood up and headed toward the door. "You get some rest, Spike. I'll go get you some blood." Angel walked out the door, sparing one last glance at his now slumbering childe. "Or we can put a rain-check on that."

Angel shut the door quietly and walked down the hall. He couldn't help but wonder what Spike had gotten himself into this time. He had been at the Hotel for little less than six weeks and he had already been the victim of a drive by shooting, a mugging, and now a giant slug -- which seemed to be venomous. His childe always seemed to be a magnet for trouble. He had drawn Angelus, had he not? Well, no need to go there.

Angel made his way down the stairs and toward the kitchen. Connor sat in there on the counter, eating from a carton of ice cream and reading the Sunday comics. "Whatcha' readin'?" Angel asked as he headed over to the refrigerator and pulled out a bag of blood. He made his way over to the mugs hanging over the sink and took one, emptying the contents of the bag inside.

"Beatle Baily. He is actually pretty funny in that 'I'm an idiot' type of way. You know, kind of like Spike." Connor looked up from his newspaper and smiled in that charming way he seemed to have mastered.

Angel grinned at the microwave as he set the time, and hoped his son didn't see. "Now, Connor, he doesn't talk about you like that." Angel tried to sound chiding, but it only came out amused.

"Really?" Connor leaned back into the cabinets and sighed. "He talks about you like that, all the time."

Angel turned to face his son, just in time to catch his grin. "You're joking, right?"

"Of course, I am." Connor put down his empty ice cream carton and arched an eyebrow at his dad. "I wouldn't seriously tell you what Spike and I talk about when we're alone."

Angel looked skeptical for a moment and then continued with his questioning. "You and Spike talk, when you are alone?"

"What did you think we did? Drink blood and talk about our wonderful bonding moments with you?" Connor picked his comics back up and flipped the page.

"Actually, if I didn't know any better, I would say he's been giving you lessons in sarcasm." Angel turned toward the microwave and waited the last few seconds for the mechanical beep to sound off. When it did he opened the door and pulled out the mug, bringing to his lips. He heard a sniff behind him and realized his mistake. He had tried to not drink around his son, as much as possible, because he knew of the feelings ingrained into him as a child. Angel tipped his mug and consumed the thick, rich liquid all in one draught. It was about time the boy got used to the way things were around here.

"You're not a vampire." Angel turned at the comment and caught the look of startled amusement on his son's face. "You're a pig. You got some..." Connor pointed to the right corner of his mouth and smirked.

Well, that was new. Maybe Spike was getting Connor used to the blood thing. Angel wiped his mouth with the arm of his shirt, and looked down at the new stain it caused. He shrugged and began to roll his sleeves up over his forearms. "I need new shirts, anyway."

"You ruined a shirt, so you could get a new shirt. What are you, a woman?" Angel and Connor both looked toward the doorway and found Spike leaning against the frame. He had taken time to put on pants, but apparently he felt no need to wear a shirt. "I swear, sometimes I worry about you, Angel." Spike made his way over to the fridge and pulled out another bag of blood. He didn't bother to warm it up or put it in a mug. He just sunk his teeth in and sucked it dry. After pulling back, he cringed and tossed the bag at the garbage can, missing by about a foot. "I'll get that in a minute."

Angel shook his head and went to pick up the bag. He knew that Spike's minutes and his minutes seemed to run different courses. He turned back toward his childe and sighed. "So, are you going to tell me about this giant slug or are you going to start on what you're doing up so soon?"

Connor seemed to take interest in the conversation, when he heard the word slug. "You were hurt." He stated it, as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

Angel hated when Connor did that. "Yes, he was hurt, but he won't say by what or how."

"If you would stop asking questions, Angelus, and just start listening, I would satisfy your curiosity." Spike leaned up against a counter and hissed. The scratches on his back were starting to sting as well as burn. "First of all, I think you should know this is all your fault, Angel. You drive me to drink."

Spike cleared his throat and started with his story. "Anyway, I went out for a drink and I got tackled by some bloke in an alley. He wanted my wallet and he wanted..." Spike looked over at Connor and sighed. "...to hurt me. Anyway, he had this claw thing and he had it scraped up and down my back before I could get in enough punches to take him down. He also tagged my thigh, but I'm sure it will be okay. I've been through worse -- and that was with you." Spike flicked his wrist in Angel's direction. "Anyway, I'm pretty sure the claw or dagger -- or whatever it was -- was coated in poison or something, 'cause these scratches hurt like the devil."

Spike rubbed his hand over his face and shook his head. "And then there was the slug. I was coming back toward the Hotel when I heard a clanging sound coming from a sewer lid. I walked over there, curiosity piqued and all. I decided to check it out. Well, after dropping myself down there and following splashing noises, I came upon a dead end. I turned around and started back the way I had come, just to be smashed by a giant jellied monster. He was heavy and slimy and I swear he smelled like a zoo. He seemed to be trying to suck something out of me and I realized what it was. He had smelled the blood on my back and he was leaching it out of me. Well, between the stinging pain the claws had inflicted and the giant jellied sucker monster on my back, it caused a couple of tears to squeeze out. The monster noticed and fled for cover. It was just gone. Tears have salt." Spike shrugged. "I figure it was a slug, 'cause they are hurt by salt. Plus, it was real slimy."

Angel stood there looking at Spike, his jaw hanging open. "A giant jellied sucker slug and a mugger with a poison dipped weapon?"

Spike nodded. He agreed that it was crazy, and he wanted Angel to know that the audacity of the situation had not escaped him. "Angel, you seem to be having a harder time accepting this than I am, and it happened to me."

"That's because I won't accept this, Spike!" Angel clenched his fist and slammed it down on the nearest counter, causing both Connor and Spike to jump. "Every time I turn around you are being attacked."

Spike's eyes had grown wide at the sudden burst of emotion from his Sire. "What's worse is, I get attacked every time *I* turn around. Look, Angel, it's not like you can help that I'm a magnet for the baddies." This comment did nothing to quell Angel's anger.

Connor took in the situation with interest. His father didn't usually let his emotions get the better of him -- unless someone or something was hurting himself or one of the others at Angel Investigations.

"No, that I can't help, but there is another way to keep you safe." Angel rose an eyebrow at his childe and grinned, in what could be considered an evil fashion.

Spike was obviously worried by this proclamation. "And just what do you mean by that, Angelus? You gonna give me a body guard or are you just going to tie me up someplace, so's I can't go anywhere?" Angel nodded and a squeal got caught in Spike's throat. "You can't do that!" he croaked. "I can't be followed around and I damned sure can't just hang around here all the time!" Spike was pacing now. He stopped to point an accusing finger into Angel's face. "I use the term 'hang around' loosely, Angelus. Don't you start getting ideas, or I promise, by all that is dark and lovely, I will dust you before you can 'shan' your 'shu', you got me?"

Angel looked slightly amused at Spike's display of independence, but he didn't say anything.

Connor decided to give his opinion, to the distress of both Angel and Spike. "Angel, isn't Spike almost as old as you?"

Angel nodded. "Doesn't matter."

"Doesn't matter?" Both Connor and Spike asked in unison.

"Doesn't matter." Angel stated firmly. "Spike is still my childe and as long as..."

"Angel!" Spike interrupted his Sire with a growl. "You finish with, 'As long as he lives under my roof' and all that crap, and I will give Connor a reason to get out that new Dirt Devil Fred insisted on buying, even though nobody uses it."

Connor's eyes grew wide. "I'm not sure I've ever heard anyone put so many thoughts into one sentence."

"You'd be surprised what all Spike can do when he's been pushed to it."

The lilt in Angel's voice had a hint of something to it that Spike didn't appreciate, and he wanted to make sure Angel knew about it. "Connor, how about you leave me and daddy dearest alone, while you go get the vacuum."

Angel took a step toward Spike and waved Connor away. "Go watch TV or something."

Connor nodded quietly and headed out of the kitchen. He wasn't sure what was going on between Spike and his dad right now, but he knew it wasn't good. It was hard to pin whether it was a vampire thing or a guy thing. Either way, it seemed that there was going to be a fight for dominance, and Connor didn't want to be sucked into the middle of it.

Spike clenched his fists at his sides and growled in the back of his throat. "Angel, if you don't explain yourself..."

Angel shook his head firmly and narrowed his gaze, causing Spike to falter. "William, don't finish that thought. You only end up making threats that we both know you can't carry out. So. Just. Don't."

Angel's resolve was so solid that it made Spike feel weaker, almost humbled. Plus, Angel had called him William. When was the last time Angel called him William? He shifted his gaze down to his feet and shrugged. "So you know that I can't bring myself to kill you. So?"

"I think that it is important that you know that I wouldn't kill you either and, if it is in my power -- and it is -- I am going to make sure nothing else kills you. I feel responsible for you... Spike, if you roll your eyes at me again, I will punch you hard enough that you'll be spitting out blood. Always remember, I don't make threats that I don't plan on keeping."

Spike spared Angel a smirk. "Some things never change."

Angel nodded and walked back over to the counter, so he could lean. "Well, you better be glad that some things do change. If you had come home in this condition a hundred years ago..."

"I would have been tethered to a bed and had hot pokers put into me." Spike said it with a grimace, which made Angel laugh. "You are twisted, Angel. I can't believe you still get a kick out of that."

"No, it's the look you had on your face. When you referred to the... You had a look on your face like you were referring to a particularly bad ballet or something. Not torture." Angel waved his hand in the air, as if he hoped that would move his thought process along to his childe.

Spike nodded with a grin. "Ballet. Torture. What's the difference?"

Angel laughed openly and shook his head. "You were never one for the finer things, were you, Will?"

"Not if it had to do with me dressing up in ribbons and bows, just to be paradedaround by you or Darla. 'A decadent time' my arse. Guys don't wear ribbons and bows. End. Of. Story." When he and Angel talked like this, he almost felt almost human. Almost normal.

Angel shook his head in denial. "It was the times. I can't believe you are still worrying over those frocks you wore back then." Angel headed out of the kitchen and into the lobby.

"Those frocks you made me wear!" Spike exclaimed, as he followed Angel into the next room.

Angel let out an exasperated sigh and dropped on the couch. "It's what everybody wore, Spike. What else would you have worn? Would you have walked around naked? Decadent times or not, I'm not sure that would have gone over so well. The only one who would have had a true appreciation would have been Dru and that's because she was crazy!"

Spike followed his Sire's lead and took a seat. "Let's not even go there, Angelus! Dru would have had an appreciation, 'cause she had an eye for true beauty." Spike was getting into the argument, but it seemed that Angel didn't want to continue, if the look on his face said anything. "You know that I'm just joshing with you, right, Angel?"

Angel leaned his head back into the couch and chuckled. "No, you aren't. You truly believe you are a work of art and, even though it's kind of annoying, that's not why I got quiet." Angel glanced over at Spike and grinned.

"Just 'cause we are on good terms right now doesn't mean I agree with you on those things you said about a bodyguard." Spike figured he should get it off his chest before Angel got any more foolish ideas.

"I didn't say anything about a bodyguard. You did. And, just so you know, you don't have to agree with me for me to be right." Angel closed his eyes and sighed. He could practically feel the anger coming off of Spike, in waves.

Spike pushed himself up out of his seat and stomped toward the stairs. "You're a real sod sometimes, Angelus."

Angel smiled to himself and shook his head. "I never said I wasn't."

~Part: 2~ On Time

Angel turned over in his sleep and hit the alarm clock, to make the insistent beeping stop. After struggling to find the right button long enough, he finally woke up and ripped the cord from the wall. He settled into his mattress face first and buried his head in his pillow. Dreams were haunting him again. They weren't like his dreams with Darla. No, these were full of blood and screaming... and Spike. Angel growled into his pillow, then turned over on his back. He had no intention of getting out of bed, but for some reason he felt that he needed to get downstairs.

After trying, in vain, to lift his head from its place in his pillow, Angel resorted to just rolling out of the bed. He landed on hands and knees, hoping to heaven above that nobody would barge in and ask what was making all the noise. How was he supposed to explain that, after sleeping all day, he was still too tired to actually pick himself up out of bed and walk like a normal non-human being? And what was he supposed to do now? Crawl downstairs? Well, he could call Spike... Or not.

Angel gathered his strength and pushed himself up onto his feet. He straightened his boxer shorts and walked over to his closet, grabbing the most comfortable pair of pants he could reach. There was no need to dress up, so he yanked a tee shirt out of his top drawer and pulled it over his head and down over his chest. Silk was nice, he thought, but sometimes there is just no substitute for an old cotton tee shirt.

After walking into the bathroom and splashing cold water on his face to wake himself up, Angel headed out into the hall and toward the stairs. He stopped at the head of the stairs and listened for a moment. A quiet murmur was starting to resonate in the lobby and Angel suddenly wanted to be a part of it. He took the stairs two at a time and smiled when he saw Wesley and Spike discussing something.

"If I heard correctly, and I'm sure I did, it was an anachronism and that's what he had planned for it to be." Wesley stated his view and settled back into his swivel chair, behind the desk.

"It wasn't so much an anachronism, as a prolepsis. An anachronism gives the feel that the writer did it on purpose -- you know, to be profound or something -- but a prolepsis is more of a screw up. I don't think that Shakespeare even realized the mistake, until one of his close friends said, 'Hey, Shake... Why did you say the clock struck twelve, when they didn't have clocks in ancient Rome?' and the old boy answered 'Oh, it was... an anachronism' just so he wouldn't look stupid." Spike took a drag off of the cigarette that was hanging from his fingertips and sighed out a puff of smoke.

Angel could hardly believe the calm and intelligent way Spike was handling himself in his conversation with Wesley. It was interesting, the changes that Spike had gone through since they had talked last. Albeit, the circumstance were a lot different than they had been, but still...

"You have an amazing way of simplifying the most complex matters." Wesley shook his head in disagreement with Spike's last statement. "Nonetheless, I don't think that's right, Spike."

Spike pointed his cigarette at Wesley and smirked. "I'm not sure you are thinking, at all, Wes. Just 'cause he was British, doesn't mean he was infallible. Lots of British guys make mistakes."

Angel snuck up behind Spike's stooping form and whispered in his ear. "Do you?"

Spike threw his elbow back into Angel's gut, making the older vampire wince and double over, slightly. "Yeah, like keeping my back turned toward the stairs. Don't do that sneaking thing. I hate it."

Angel nodded his apology and rubbed his aching belly. "You didn't have to hit me."

"Well, you know, it's the one night I decide to stay here and hang out so's you don't worry yourself into a state. I guess I should expect something horrible and unexpected, don't you?" Spike shrugged and grinned over at Wesley, who seemed to get the joke that Angel was so obviously missing.

"What's up, Spike?" Angel asked, now almost fully drained of his will to move, talk, listen, or stand. On that note, he took a couple of steps backwards and collapsed on the couch.

Spike shook his head and shrugged. "Nothing, Sire. What's up with you? You look like you just aged a couple of hundred years. You're not turning into a bat, are you? 'Cause, although you've got all that lovely hair, I'm pretty sure it won't make up for pointy ears. You would look horrible with pointy ears."

Angel sent a harsh glance over at his childe and sighed. "I'm not going to get pointy ears."

"Oh, that's right. You are going to become human and live out your mortal days, in peace and harmony." Spike leaned back, resting his elbows on the counter. His cigarette had burned down to the butt and he absentmindedly flicked it behind the counter, so it landed at Wesley's feet.

Wesley stared at the cigarette butt and sighed silently. "Although he put it about as gently as a freight train, Spike's right, Angel." Wesley looked up at the darker man curiously. "Is something the matter?"

Angel threw his head back into his seat, eyes open, staring ahead blankly. "I'm having dreams again, Wes."

"Is it Darla?" Wesley's interest was piqued. He remembered how Angel had been altered during the time Darla haunted his dreams.

Spike looked between the two men, confused. He knew that he had to be missing something. Six weeks was not enough time to catch up on the happenings around this place.

Angel grunted a sort of laugh. "No, it's Spike."

Wesley and Spike both stared at Angel expectantly. Wesley was first to speak up, though. "Are... ahem... the dreams like they were with... Darla?"

Angel's head snapped up and he sent a pointed glance at the overly curious man behind the counter. "No, but if they were, do you think I'd tell you?"

Wesley nodded, in an accepting way. "Point taken."

Spike narrowed his gaze at both men and harumph-ed. "Angelus, what are you bloody fools prattling on about? What dreams with Darla?"

"We'll talk about it later, Will." Angel's voice was stern, having that no nonsense quality that made Spike's blood boil.

"Well then, what was your dream last night about? If I was in it, maybe I can help you make sense of whatever it was."

Angel shook his head. If Spike insisted on helping him, this could end up being more trouble than it was worth. "It's just a dream, Spike. Nothing more."

"It's never just a dream, Angelus. You know it and I know it. If it has to do with your Childer or your Sire, it's not just a dream. Now, you had better tell me what has gotten you upset, all of a sudden." Spike walked over to where Angel was lounging and put on the best obstinate look he could muster. "Well?"

Angel looked Spike over levelly and almost growled. "Torture, death, blood, dust, you."

"And?" Spike quirked a brow. Apparently, he wasn't satisfied that this was all that had Angel in a snit.

"And? Does there have to be more?" Angel pushed himself up out of his seat and made his way toward his office.

"That's not all, Angelus." Spike called after his Sire. "You would protect me and I know it. You make that promise with your eyes every time you look at any of us. Something else has you spooked."

Angel answered his childe by slamming his office door.

Spike shook his head and ran his fingers through the peroxide colored locks. "Something else. Well, I'm very much the bored one. You wanna go get smashed and paint the town red?" Spike looked over at Wesley, with a grin.

Wesley chuckled to himself and got up out of his seat. "I could use a drink." Wesley picked his coat up off the counter and slipped it on. "Just one thing, Spike. If the town is going to be painted red, can we try to make sure it's not our blood?"

Spike laughed and nodded. "Well, this is LA. Anything can happen. I won't promise anything, but I'll try not to get into trouble."

"Do you ever have to try?" Wesley asked mirthlessly, as they made their way to the door.

"Not really." Spike answered, while he slipped on his coat and out into the night air.

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After drinking his fill, Spike glanced around the bar, in search of Wesley. The man had told Spike that he was going to the bathroom over ten minutes ago and Spike was pretty sure that it didn't take that long to do your business -- unless you were a woman. Spike laughed at the alcohol-induced image of Wesley putting on makeup in the men's room, and then groaned. He would probably get a hangover this time around. It wasn't impossible for a vampire to get drunk or have a hangover; it was difficult, but not impossible. Spike welcomed the floating sensation he had as he got off of his stool and laid a bill on the counter.

He walked back toward the bathrooms and listened for Wesley's voice. After a moment, he heard the British tones, slightly slurred by the alcohol he had been drinking. Angel was going to be pissed. Ha! Pissed that he was pissed! Gods, Spike thought, How much did I drink? He made his way in the direction of Wesley's slightly altered voice and smiled when he saw the man, sitting in a booth in the back corner, arm wrapped around a beautiful little blonde woman.

Spike put on a serious face and glided over to their table. "Excuse me." The woman looked up at him and he couldn't help but smile. Good taste, Wes, was all his mind could come up with. "Umm... This man is needed."

"I know." She breathed. "I need him."

Spike's muddled mind was trying to process what the woman was saying. All he needed was to find something to say, so he could get Wesley back to the Hotel before Angel decided to come looking for them, and they would be home free. Seeing as how the truth was strange enough, Spike decided to have some fun. "He's a doctor and there is a little girl who needs him to do surgery tomorrow. I have to get him sober so she can give her a new heart."

"Well, I'm not so needy." She almost whispered. She was stroking Wesley's chest and he seemed perfectly content to let her do so as long as she wanted. "I just want a spleen."

What?! Warning bells went off in Spike's head. Even to a drunken vampire, that comment sounded strange. He grabbed the small woman's collar and hauled her up out of her seat. "What do you mean by that?"

"Eep!" She squealed. "I was just... joking. You said that she needed a heart... I was joking!" Spike dropped the woman on the edge of the table and she reached for her now tender neck. "I'm getting out of here. Guys in LA are just too weird." The woman mumbled all the way out the door.

Wesley was giving Spike a confused glance. "What was that about?" Wesley waved at the bench across from him, inviting Spike to take it.

"She said she wanted a spleen. Does that sound like a joke to you?" Spike took the proffered seat and sighed into his hands.

"Well, it may seem like a joke to those who aren't forced into a business where chasing spleen eating monsters is part of the job description." Wesley offered agreeably. "She was pretty though, wasn't she?"

Spike nodded with a small smile. "Sorry about ruining your night. You could have had her number if you had wanted, and I went and screwed it up."

Wesley waved off the apology and laughed. "No apologies necessary. You were concerned about my spleen. It happens."

Spike sat looking at the man in front of him, his jaw unhinged. "How drunk are you, Wes?"

"I refuse to acknowledge that question." Wesley swung his legs around until he was slipping out of his chair to stand on the floor. "See, my motor skills are tip top."

Spike decided to humor the man and nodded. "Yeah, and you can say a whole two words without slurring!" Spike said with a smile.

Wesley started for the front of the bar where, he was pretty sure, he would find a door. "Well, I'm sober enough to know that you are patronizing me. Stop it." Wesley grabbed for Spike's sleeve as he swayed on his feet. "Maybe I am slightly tipsy."

Spike nodded in agreement, but said nothing. He seemed to be walking fine and he didn't mind giving Wesley a hand for a couple of yards. "Just hold on to my arm. I can get us a cab."

"I can walk!" Wesley stated indignantly.

"You can fall and break your neck and then Angel can whip me until *I* can't walk." Spike shook his head. "No, I'm getting you a cab."

"Us a cab?" Wesley asked.

"No, you a cab. I think I'll take a walk and clear my head. Maybe see what's going down at the docks. You know, get myself good and mangled before I get home, so Angel will have pity on me and decide not to kill me for getting one of his pet humans drunk." Spike grinned at the confused looked etched on Wesley's face. "Or maybe I'll just walk home. Dunno which I wanna do. Guess I'll see how I feel once I start walkin'."

It seemed that, while Spike and Wesley had been inside the bar, the rain had started falling. Spike made Wesley wait on the curb, while he tried hailing a cab. None would stop and he just ended up frustrated and wet. "Wes, looks like we're going to have to walk it."

Spike took a few steps backwards, until he was back on the sidewalk, looking down at Wesley's trembling form. The man had taken a seat on the piece of curb he had claimed, and was fighting to keep down his alcohol. "I think I'll just sleep here tonight."

Spike rolled his eyes and pulled Wesley up by the arm. "Nope. I gotcha' drunk, I'm not lettin' you freeze too."

"You didn't get me drunk. I got me..." Wesley was cut off by a scream. Both of the men turned toward the alley and groaned. "I don't feel like saving anyone." Wesley stated tiredly.

"Then don't. Have a seat and I'll be right back." Spike let go of his friend's arm and crept down the alleyway, where they had heard the scream. All he could see was shadows and darkness and... a dead woman. "Damn." Spike headed over to the lifeless body and crouched down to get a better look. "Well, I guess she wasn't a spleen eating monster." The pretty little blonde that Spike had wrongfully assaulted was lying there, stomach split open, entrails missing. "But it looks like someone is."

Spike got up from the ground and made his way back to Wesley. "Your girlfriend's dead." He stated, devoid of emotion.

"Another one?" Wesley shook his head incredulously. He looked back up at Spike, hopefully. "Do you think this one'll come back to life?"

Spike shrugged as an answer, but in all honesty he was pretty sure this girl was as dead as dead could get. "We better get home. Angel will wanna hear about it. Damn."

"He's going to be mad at you." Wesley nodded to emphasize his point. "You went out after saying you wouldn't and you got in trouble again."

Spike chose not to acknowledge the statement and yanked Wesley down the sidewalk. "It's funny. Other guys get drunk and they just get stupid. You get drunk and you just automatically state the obvious."

"Huh?"

"Nevermind." Spike said on a sigh. "Let's go, Wes. I gotta figure out how to tell Angel about our night on the town." Spike's grip on Wesley was shaken free,when the younger man ran for the bushes and proceeded to throw up. Spike shook his head. "Damn."

~Part: 3~ Miranda

"Angel, what are you thinking?" Spike had been standing there, soaked to the bone, Wesley hanging on his arm, for over five minutes, while Angel collected his thoughts. Wesley groaned quietly as his stomach started to flip over for the third time.

"Wesley, maybe you should go upstairs." Angel said, finally breaking the silence he had been sitting in. "We could get Lorne to help you."

Wesley drooped on Spike's arm and the vampire let go of his hold, allowing the man to slip to the ground in one fluid motion. "Wes?"

Wesley lay back on the ground and waved his hand at Spike. "'s okay. Sleep..." he muttered on a yawn.

"This is completely out of character," Spike thought out loud. "I wonder if someone slipped you something."

"You think someone slipped me a... what's it? A... umm... drugs?" Wesley almost laughed at the thought. "Imagine, someone trying to take advantage of me!" Wesley looked down his crumpled form and chuckled. "I'm a mess."

"Self-depreciating git, aren't you?" Spike crossed his arms across his chest, in an uncomfortable fashion. He spared Angel a glance, just to see how mad his Sire was about this current situation. Angel didn't look angry so much as amused.

"If I had found him in this situation nine months ago, I would have tore out his heart and eaten it." Angel's eyes didn't leave Wesley's prone form for a moment. He really didn't know why he had said what he had, even if it was true, and he wasn't sure he wanted to explain the statement to Spike, even if he could.

Spike was in shock. "Truly? Were you soulless nine months ago?"

"No. Try three months ago. That's why we called on Willow. She re-ensouled me." Angel looked up at his Childe and found a playful smirk worming its way onto his face. "What?" Spike chuckled in a knowing fashion. "What?!"

"Who'd you shag?" Spike's grin grew. "Was it Cordy? Or maybe it was Twiggy... umm.. Fred. No, she's not your style. It wasn't one of the... Naw. You've been stickin' to the birds, as of late." Spike looked thoughtful. "Don't you gotta' love 'em, for it to zap away your soul?"

"Spike, my soul is safe." Angel opened a drawer at his desk and shuffled through its contents, just to have something to do. "I had it done on purpose."

"You're bloody teasin' me an' you know it." Spike snarled. "Why would you, Mr. bleedin' 'Save the World so I Can Be Human' get rid of your soul and let Angelus run amuck through your city?"

"There's too much to that story, Spike. It could take forever to tell it all." Angel gave Spike a pleading look, but his Childe was relentless.

Out of pure frustration, Spike started pacing up and down the office floor. "I have forever, Angel, and so do you. Now, if you don't wanna tell the story, fine... But do tell me why you didn't think to call and tell me about you being the scourge of bloody Europe again!" Spike face grew red, with the borrowed blood he had consumed earlier that night. He wasn't only mad; he was outraged that Angel wouldn't have him contacted before he did something so dumb. (Plus, he was more than a little annoyed that Angelus hadn't bothered to call him up, for old time's sake. Of course, he would never admit it.)

"Spike, you are getting mad over nothing." Angel stood up and walked around his desk to where Spike had been standing moments before. "Remember, I had no clue you had a soul. Did you even have a soul at that time?"

"Yes." Spike stopped pacing. "I'm tired of this. Why aren't we out doing that thing with the fists and the swords that makes us feel all manly?"

Angel thought a moment. "Going to a Renaissance Festival?"

Spike's jaw fell open at his Sire's hideously awful joke. "Now I know I gotta kill something. Sometimes you make me feel like The Hulk. You know that? Lots a' testosterone and I got nowhere to put it." He headed over to a trunk and lifted the lid, pulling out an old fashioned mace. "Still into your toys, eh pet?"

"I thought you wanted a sword." Angel made his way to the other vampire and lifted the mace out of his hands. "Don't play with it. It's an antique." He placed it back in the trunk and closed the lid.

"The other kid's mums collect antique furniture. Mine collects antique weaponry." Spike sighed and looked down at Wesley's sleeping form. "What're we gonna do about him?"

Angel shrugged. "I suppose he should just sleep it off. Huh..."

"What's that?" Spike asked, curiously.

Angel shrugged. "He snores."

"Yeah, well -- you're one to talk. You sound like a steam ship comin' into harbor when you sleep. You talk, too. 'Specially when you are in the middle of a particularly nasty dream."

Angel narrowed his gaze at Spike. "And you know this how?"

"Hello, Angelus? I'm Spike. I used to live with you way back when dinosaurs roamed the earth. It just so happens that I had a hard time sleepin', every now and again. I watched you sleep to pass the time." Spike smirked at the sensory image he was developing. "I know it sounds creepy, but it calmed me down. Dru would frustrate me or Darla would just be Darla and you would be the head 'o the house, sleepin' like a new born babe. And when you weren't sleepin' like a baby..." Spike stopped there and ran his fingers through his hair.

"What?" Angel's interest was pricked by this sudden revelation Spike had so easily slipped into and so earnestly tried to back out of. "Don't stop there, boy." Spike's head snapped up and his eyes widened. Angel hadn't realized that he had just addressed Spike in Angelus' favorite term, nor did he care. Right now he was curious and Spike *would* satisfy his curiosity.

Spike's jaw opened and shut, like he was trying to make words, but they refused to come out. He finally just shrugged. "I would wait it out with you. Darla was off with Dru, Penn would be God knows where, and you would scream so loud. You had no one else." Spike sighed; his face had grown red again, this time from embarrassment.

Angel tried not to look too smug, after hearing Spike's confession. It wouldn't do if Spike saw his expression and decided never to talk about these things again. So what would be the right thing to say, at this juncture? "Oh." Yup, that about summed it up.

Spike let out a nervous laugh and then scoffed. About what, he wasn't sure. It just felt like the right thing to do. "What are we, women? No offense." Spike said to Wesley's limp and lifeless form. Angel couldn't help but chuckle at Spike's attempt to break the tension. "Come on, Sire. Let's go kill us a spleen eating monster."

Angel almost turned down his Childe's offer but he realized that, if he did, Spike might just go out on his own. "Okay, but a few ground rules."

Spike scrunched up his nose, but said nothing.

"First rule is, I tell you to get out of the way, get back, get down, or just get and you will obey me. Secondly, when I say we are going home, that means we are going home. Spike, don't look at me like that. I don't want you any more dead than you already are. Okay?"

Spike pushed Angel out of his way and stomped over to the desk to pick up his duster. He slipped it on and headed out of the room. Angel shook his head and sighed. He made his way after Spike, only to find himself flat on his back, the moment he stepped out the door.

"You may be my Sire, but you are not my daddy." Spike hissed at the vampire, pinned beneath his weight. "I humor you more than anyone else I have ever met, including Drusilla," He lifted Angel by the lapels of his shirt, until they were almost nose to nose and growled, "but I think you should know that I could stop at any moment. I don't have to obey you, and I can take care of myself!" Spike let go of Angel's shirt, causing the older vampire's head to hit the hard wood floor, and pushed himself up and away from his Sire.

Angel was dazed, to say the least. He had hardly noticed the way his head had cracked against the flooring when Spike had let him go. What he noticed was a very frustrated vampire pacing, or stomping, up and down the lobby floor. "Spike..."

Spike stopped in his tracks and waited for his Sire to kick his butt out on the street.

"I understand." Angel pushed himself up off the ground and dusted the back of his pants off.

Spike hadn't realized he had been holding his breath, but it came out in a gush, when Angel had stood up. He didn't know what to say, so he just said nothing.

"I understand -- but if you tackle me again, I'm going to whip your cold, dead carcass until I feel happy about it." Angel smiled sweetly, punctuating his words. "And that could take awhile, seeing as how I'm soul filled and all."

Spike agreed that that was a fair arrangement, and nodded.

Angel walked over to the coat rack and pulled off his coat. "What's got you so high strung, anyway? Other than my little over-protective bout back there."

Spike wasn't sure if he wanted to tell Angel, but he knew that he really couldn't stop himself. Lately, it had been next to impossible for him to hold back what he was thinking or what he felt, especially to those closest to him. Wasn't that part of the reason he had left Sunnydale, and all that it implied, behind? "You still won't tell me about your dream."

Angel would have laughed, if the mere mention of his nightmare hadn't sent a chill up and down his spine. "Nope." Angel said, as he pressed past his Childe and out to slay the demons.

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

"Angel, just cut off its head, why don't you!" Spike yelled at his Sire, as he kicked a gangly orange demon in what he presumed was its gut.

"It's hard to do that when you are the one with the sword." Angel threw his head back, so that it connected with a crunch with the face of the demon-creature that held him around the waist.

Spike plunged said sword into the head of the orange monster and twisted the blade, harshly. Blue ooze spurted from the wound and stained the sword's blade. Spike unsheathed it from the creature's head and headed over to his Sire, who was now pummeling the face of his enemy. Gashes and cuts were decorating the monster's face, as a blazing intensity had taken over his Sire's. "Your sword?"

"No. Don't want it." Angel said in between blows.

"I never thought you would be into torturous deaths, Angel. I thought that was Angelus' job description." Spike held out the sword, just to have it snatched away.

Angel pressed the blade under the creature's chin and pressed until he heard a satisfying squeal. "What are you?" The monster squirmed and bucked, but he had nothing on Angel. He was rewarded with a little more pressure on the sword. "I'll ask again. What are you? I know you are carnivorous, or you wouldn't be eating homeless people in an alleyway."

"Technically, they aren't eating the people, just their insides." Spike seemed resigned to playing good cop, apparently.

"Just like we didn't eat the people, just their blood? Same conclusion comes out of it. Dead people." Angel shifted the blade and the creature howled.

"I don't think they understand us." Spike looked bored.

Angel nodded and lifted the sword. He stood and looked down at the stunned monster at his feet. "Oh well." He said, as he swung the blade and separated the monster's head from its body. Ooze splattered both Angel and Spike.

"You're paying my dry cleaning." Spike muttered.

"Don't I always?" Angel sighed. He wiped the sword on his pants, leaving blue streaks in its wake.

"Were they in the dream?" Spike asked curiously.

"No. Drop it." Angel said evenly, as he left the alleyway, the demons, and his childe behind.

Spike hurried after Angel and fell in with the older vampire's footsteps. "You're going to tell me."

"Yes." Angel agreed. "But not now."

"Can I make guesses?" Spike continued.

Angel groaned. He cupped his childe's neck and squeezed firmly. It wasn't a threat, but it had the promise of a threat. "Remember what I said about not allowing anything to hurt you?"

"Yes." Spike smiled.

"I'm about to take it back. I want to hurt you and I'm almost ready to humor myself." Angel took back his hand and let it drop to his side. "Why don't you find something else to occupy your mind with? Why don't you take up bird watching or give up smoking?"

Spike audibly gasped at the comment. "Give up smoking? You are off your rocker, if you think I'm going to give up smoking!"

Angel shrugged and slowed down his pace. "It wasn't an order, Spike. Just a suggestion."

"A nutty suggestion." The younger vamp shook his head and gave Angel an unbelieving look. "Give up smoking." Spike scoffed for the second time that night. "Do you even know how stupid you are sometimes, Angelus?"

"No. Do you realize that you call me Angelus just as much, or more, than you call me Angel?" Angel watched his feet, as they walked down the sidewalk. He had one hand shoved in his coat pocket and the other gripping the handle of an ornately designed sword. There was nothing weird going on here.

Spike shrugged. "Force of habit."

"I guess." Angel squinted up at the stars. They walked in silence a while like that, Angel looking for constellations and Spike kicking rocks down the sidewalk.

Spike finally broke the silence. "Connor needs a dog."

Angel was taken aback for a second. Whatever Angel thought his childe would say next, didn't even come close to that. "A dog?"

"What boy doesn't have a dog?"

"I didn't have a dog." Angel said flatly.

"Yeah, and look how great you turned out." Spike retorted. "The boy needs a dog. A big dog, or a little dog. Nothing in between. A little one may teach him to take care of things weaker than him, while a big one may be a comfort when he's afraid or something."

"Why would he be afraid?" Angel asked, not liking the way this conversation was going.

"I don't know. Why are you afraid over a little dream?" Spike asked

"It's not just a dream." Angel muttered, almost quiet enough that Spike didn't hear him.

"You admit it." Spike smiled. "I'm good at getting what I want." Spike stated, sure of himself and his powers of coaxing the truth out of Angel.

"Don't look so smug." Angel said with a small smile. It never reached his eyes.

"Now all I have to do, is find out what the dream was about," Spike thought out loud.

"You're not that good." Angel laughed at the bewildered look that passed over Spike's face. Evidently, his childe had not meant to speak his thoughts aloud. "We need to go check on Wes. Race me back to the hotel." Angel was off like a shot, getting a head start on Spike. He laughed at the string of expletives that left Spike's mouth. He almost wanted to let Spike win. Almost.

~Part: 4~ Curiosity

"Stupid, stupid man." Spike grumbled, as he popped a peppermint in his mouth and bit into it. He wasn't sure whether he meant himself or Angel. After being beat to the hotel the night before, Angel had declared that Spike owed him a reward. After a lot of grumbling, Spike had agreed. Now, he wished he had fought just a little harder. If he had, then maybe he would be smoking a very satisfying cigarette instead of eating a little mint diskette that carried little to no satisfaction along with it.

He remembered the argument so vividly that he still felt Angel's words bite into him. "Why should I quit smoking, Angel?" He had asked. It hadn't really mattered what Angel thought; there was hardly anything that would make him stop his favorite vice. "It's not like I can die from it or anything."

"Yeah, that's true." Angel agreed. "But you could kill Connor." Angel stared at Spike levelly, as the younger vampire gaped. "He has a hard enough time as it is, without having to die of lung cancer."

Spike didn't know what to say. It's not like he had assumed that the kid was immortal or anything. Maybe he had just thought of him not being susceptible to things such as illness. "Well, I don't wanna kill the kid. He's kinda growin' on me."

Angel smiled. "Good. You want a patch or gum or something?"

Spike narrowed his eyes in confusion. "Would a patch even work? You know it has to go into the blood system and seeing as how it's all borrowed blood, anyway..." Spike shrugged. He was stumped. "You know, the boy could still use a dog."

Angel looked thoughtful. "I'll think about it."

Spike knew that was going to be the best he could do for the time being, so he let it go. "I was just thinking... Don't look so amused, Angelus." Spike sighed. "I'm really not sure that the smoking is addiction, so much as habit."

"Yeah, well, bad habits can be hard to break."

Did Angel know what he was talking about when he said that! Spike had already found himself biting on pen tops, eating hard candy, chewing on his fingernails, and talking his teeth out of eating the inner walls of his cheeks. "Got a blasted oral fixation, now and it's all that pouf's fault."

"What's that?" Wesley was standing in Spike's doorway, looking at the vampire, who was so casually sprawled on the bed. "May I come in?"

"You may enter." Spike let out a chuckle and sighed. "I've always wanted to say that, in just that tone. Oh, how the tables turn when you aren't paying attention." Spike lifted himself up until he was leaning on his elbows and grinning at the British man, who was taking a seat in the armchair across from his bed. "Got any gum?"

Wesley shook his head. "Since when do you chew gum?"

Spike settled back on his bed. "Since I'm not allowed to chew necks or smoke my ciggies. You are lucky I'm not coming over to your apartment and eating you out of house and home."

Wesley shrugged, which was totally lost on Spike, seeing as how he was staring at the ceiling. "You're always welcome to come by."

Spike sat up with a grin. "Was that an invitation?"

Wesley returned the grin with one of his own. "Yes, I believe it was."

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen! I bet I'll have all of the others inviting me into their places next." Spike grabbed at his nightstand and yanked open a drawer, pulling out a handful of Skittles.

Wesley raised an eyebrow and laughed. "What other treasures do you have in there, Spike?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," he said, as he popped a couple of red Skittles in his mouth. "Want some? I don't like the green ones."

"I thought the green ones were supposed to be the best." Wesley held out his palm, while Spike deposited some of his stash.

"That's M&M's. They're hot. You know, with the lips and the legs and heels." Spike said as he finished chewing.

"M&Ms have legs and heels? Since when?" Wesley was confused at the turn in conversation although, when he thought about it, most of his and Spike's conversations were pretty confusing. Why should this one be any different?

"Don't you ever watch television?" Spike asked amusedly. Wesley was a pretty smart guy. Kind of reminded him of Angel. Smart in so many ways and, as far as pop culture was concerned, they were so very lost. "You know, bright picture boxes, with all the noise? Mine saved my life a couple of times. Would have died of boredom, without it. Plus there was that time I killed a Vanagra demon by strangling it with the... Wesley, what's so funny?"

Wesley covered his face with his hands and tried to fight the laughter that was bubbling to the surface.

"If you are laughing about the word Vanagra, I am going to go find Angel and beg him to stake me good and proper." Spike shook his head at the absurdity of it all. "I would have thought this was above you."

Wesley laughed all the more during Spike's rant. "It's not that, I swear," he said in between bursts of laughter. After gaining back a minute amount of composure, Wesley pointed at the nightstand.

Spike looked over at his nightstand and gasped. "What in the bleedin' world are you doin' here?" He turned over onto his stomach and reached over to pick up a little kitten that sat on the small table by his bed, staring at him. "I can't believe I didn't sense you."

"It was eating your Skittles, a moment ago."

That cleared up the laughing fit, Spike mused. Spike took the opportunity to thump the kitten on the nose. "Eatin' my Skittles. Should be ashamed of yourself. Wesley had the decency to wait until they was offered to him. You should learn a lesson from this."

Connor burst into the room. "Spike, have you seen a... Oh." Connor smiled at the black and white kitten snuggling into Spike's torso. "You found Cat."

"Cat?" Spike asked, a bit confused.

"Angel got him for me." Connor walked over and lifted the small animal from Spike's grasp. "I'm calling him Cat until I can figure out a good name for him."

"Call him Thief or Glutton. We found him choking down my Skittles." Spike crossed his arms over his chest and huffed. He wasn't really angry. He was bored and acting angry was helping alleviate the boredom for a while.

"Skittles..." Connor smiled. "I like it. Would you like to be called Skittles?" Connor asked the little fuzz ball curled up in his arms.

"He doesn't look like a Skittles" Wesley stood up and walked over to where the boy stood with his cat. "He's kind of colorless."

"Then the name will be ironic." Connor stiffened his jaw. "Plus, it will remind Spike of the first time he met Cat, and it will remind me of the look of annoyance Spike wore after the fact."

Wesley nodded in amusement. "It was pretty funny."

"Watch it, Wes. I don't have any ciggies to soften the blow. I'm kinda wanting to eat your pet, Con." Spike would have given anything for his Sire to see the look of outrage on Connor's face. It was so like Angel. Not that Angel could even remember his own face, after so long without a reflection. But still.

Connor hugged Cat, or Skittles, to his chest and scowled at the blonde vampire. "You wouldn't, would you?"

"No." Spike answered truthfully. "Cat blood tastes like rat's and lead. I don't touch the stuff. Kitty Cat is safe. Well, that is, until he eats some of my stash again and then it's personal."

Connor nodded. Evidently, the boy wasn't worried about the threat. Spike said he wouldn't hurt him. So, he wouldn't hurt him. "Skittles and I are going for a walk. Then, he's going to bed. I'm pretty sure I can train him, if I'm patient enough." Connor nuzzled the little animal, as it batted at his face playfully. "I don't think we should de-claw him. Seems kind of mean. Like taking away a vampire's fangs."

"Except your kitten isn't a vicious killer... yet." Two dark heads turned toward Spike and the vampire shrugged. "This is LA. It's not like it hasn't happened before."

Connor nodded. "Well, Skittles is going to be a vicious mouse hunter, nothing more." Connor lifted Skittles up in the air and grinned at him. "I think we should go. It's getting late." With that, Connor turned around and made his way out the door, cat in tow.

Spike laughed quietly. "It's funny."

"What?" Wesley looked down at the vampire, on the bed, curiously.

"I give a little, Angel gives a little." Spike shrugged. "Angelus was never so generous."

Wesley sighed and looked up at the ceiling. Would he ever come to understand the people/demons he lived and worked with? "What are you talking about, now, Spike?"

Spike pointed at the door. "Cat. I made a sort of pact with Angel. I would stop smoking for the boy's sake and he would get the boy a pet." Spike frowned. "Of course, I said he should have a dog, but I'm sure I can allow it to slide, seeing as how Angel's being all accommodating."

Wesley nodded. He didn't really understand what the Sire/Childe relationship with vampires implied, or the emotions that revolved around it, but he was pretty sure that Angel had just gained points on an invisible meter and/or he had tipped a magical scale in his favor.

Spike grinned at the range of emotions that flitted across Wesley's face, then reached into his nightstand and pulled back empty handed. "I'm gonna' eat it! That little kitten finished off me last Skittle!" Spike jumped up from his bed and bolted out the door in a blind fury.

Wesley laughed, as he visualized a scale catapulting Angel and Skittles the Cat into an untold future.

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

"If it had been a puppy, I would have understood! But the cat ate my Skittles. Cats don't eat Skittles!" Spike yelled at his Sire.

The dark man just sat there placidly, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "So Connor likes him?"

Spike frowned at Angel and fought hard not to roll his eyes. "Yes. He likes the cat. He actually named it Skittles. The stupid thing is going to be taunting me for the rest of its life."

Angel finally let the smile he had been holding back break through. He couldn't help it. The idea that Connor had taken to his new pet fast enough to already give it a name almost made his heart beat. "How long do kittens live?" Angel went back to shuffling papers. He was trying to look busy, even though he was dreadfully bored. Why else would he humor Spike's ranting for so long?

"About a year and a half..." Angel's head snapped up, his eyes wide. "Then they become cats. Big evil cats with sharp claws and teeth." Spike put his hands up, pantomiming claws, and bared blunt teeth.

Angel chuckled happily and sighed. "I'm not getting rid of Skittles. Connor likes him. And, since you seem to know so much about cats, I want you to help take care of him."

Spike's jaw dropped open, but he wasn't able to voice what he thought. It seemed that Angelus' conditioning had stuck around a little.

Angel raised an eyebrow at his Childe's expression. The boy had amazing restraint. "Go ahead and say it."

"What?" Spike asked, feigning innocence.

"You were going to call me a poof and tell me sod off and take care of my own bleedin' cat." Angel looked up at his outraged childe and grinned. "Is that right?"

"That was the worst put-on accent I have ever heard. You ever do that again and I'll pop you in the jaw. I don't care if you hit me back or not." Spike nodded to emphasize his statement.

"But was that what you were going to say?" Angel insisted.

"No, I was going to call you a ponce, tell you to wank off, and then proceed in eating the bloody cat." Spike bit the insides of his cheeks in agitation until it almost made him look hollow.

Angel took in the effect and grinned. "Have you ever thought about having your picture done?"

Spike shook his head. "Why?" Suddenly, Spike wasn't so comfortable with the easy grins Angel was wearing lately. "What's going on in your head?"

"I'm bored. Sit down." Angel pointed at the chair in front of his desk

"I think I'll go find Cat and feed..."

"Sit down." Angel put on his Sire voice and searched the desk drawers for pencils and paper.

Spike took a chair and fidgeted nervously. "So, how long has it been since you drew someone?"

"I have pictures of Connor as a baby, Cordelia asleep, Wesley reading, Fred and Gunn whispering to each other, Lorne drinking a Tequila... Where is my charcoal?" Angel opened another drawer and pulled out a box. "Here we go." Spike started to get up from his seat and Angel pinned him with a glare. "Don't move, unless I say so."

"So, you want me to pose?" Spike bit his bottom lip, self-consciously.

Angel looked up and smiled. "Stay."

Spike wanted to protest, but he knew better. He just sat there, slumped slightly, lip trapped in between blunt teeth, eyebrows drawn together.

Angel sat there sketching for minutes on end. He was suddenly very glad that vampires didn't have to breathe. Spike was being very still and he was happy with the results he was producing. Angel stopped sketching and nodded at Spike. "That's enough. I have a rough sketch done and I can finish it."

Spike was curious, but he knew Angel wouldn't let him see the sketch until it was finished. "So, I can go?"

Angel nodded and went back to work on the picture.

"All right, then." Spike got up from his chair and headed out the door. Was Angel going crazy? The last time he had been drawn, he was William the Bloody and Angel was Angelus and Dru was sitting in the corner tied to a chair, laughing hysterically. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. After making his way through the lobby, he groaned. "Screw this, I need a cigarette." Spike grabbed his coat and head out the door, in search of a convenience store.

~Part: 5~  The Metamorphosis of Narcissus

"What's that smell?" Wesley asked, as he stuck his nose in the air and sniffed.

"Cinnamon Binaca," Angel stated, casually. "Spike's trying to cover up the fact that he started smoking again. He lasted about..." Angel lifted his shirtsleeve and peeked at his watch, "...seventeen hours. That's including the time that he slept." Angel shook his head and laughed. "As long as he keeps it outside, I don't really care. It's not like he's going to cause any more air pollution than there is already."

Wesley shook his head. "No, it doesn't smell like cinnamon. It's more..."

"Cat piss." Spike muttered as he walked in the room.

Wesley cocked his head, slightly and nodded. "I wouldn't have put it that way..."

Spike rolled his eyes at Wesley's irreverent comment. "I'm not merely describing the smell, Wes. I'm pinpointing it. It's that cat the boy so lovingly refers to as Skittles." Spike was leaning on the doorframe, watching Angel closely. Wesley could tell that something had set Spike off, but Angel seemed oblivious to it.

"'The Cat Lovingly Referred to as Skittles' almost sounds like 'The Artist Formally Known as Prince'." Wesley laughed at the joke,as he said it, Angel shook his head in blissful ignorance, and Spike was too ruffled to joke about anything. Wesley realized now wasn't the time, so he turned to his books with a sigh.

"Anyway, Cat's trying to spray all over things, so I locked him in one room. He can stay there 'til we get him clipped." Spike walked over to the counter and jumped up there so that he could settle down 'Indian-style' in front of Angel. "He keeps scratching me. It doesn't really hurt, as far as hurting goes, but he starts that now and he'll be evil before Connor reaches manhood."

"Then you should discipline him." Angel gave Spike a bright smile and leaned back in his chair. "How do you discipline a cat?"

"Depends... Do you want the cat to live through it?" Spike grinned at the transformation from smiles to long-suffering on Angel's face. "I could give it a whack with a newspaper, then. I don't think it will do much good, but I can be patient if I force myself."

Angel doubted it. His Childe was known for many things, but patience wasn't one of them. "So what floor did you put Skittles on?"

Spike smiled almost sheepishly. Should he tell? Of course, he should. "The first floor."

"No wonder it smells so bad. You only took him up a flight?" Angel shook his head in dismay. Now Spike was showing a deficiency in common sense. The smell could scare away potential customers. Not that there were any, as of late. "Well, which room did you put him in, so I don't accidentally let him out or anything."

Spike hopped down from his perch on the desk and walked toward the kitchen. "He's in 109."

Angel dropped his pencil on the ground and groaned. "That's Connor's room."

"Sure is!" Spike yelled back, as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He popped the tab and laughed heartily. "It's his bleedin' cat. Let him take care of it." Spike walked back into the lobby, gulping greedily from his can, just to be hit in the middle of his forehead by a flying pencil. "Hey, you could put someone's eye out like that!" Spike choked, as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. He bent down to get the lost projectile, while casting his Sire the evil eye.

"Don't whine. I would have put it back for you." Angel leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "You're lucky Connor's not driving a pencil through your black little heart."

"Oh, Angel! You hurt my soul." Spike feigned a gasp and grabbed at his chest where his unbeating heart lay beneath the surface with the hand that clutched Angel's pencil.

Angel chuckled. He couldn't get over Spike's ability to make anything and everything into some sort of joke. Even when he was being a jerk, he was being an amusing jerk. "I'm glad you aren't worried about it."

"Why should I be? The boy has nothing on me." Spike straightened his shoulders and grinned. "I may be all soul-having now, but I'm still the Big Bad. I got the blood of Aurelius flowing through my veins."

"So does Connor." Wesley decided to pipe in, which made Spike's face fall, and Angel burst out laughing. Wesley grinned and continued, "Actually, both of his parents had the blood of Aurelius. So he may be a little tougher to beat than you thought."

"What, so the boy has super hearing?" Spike asked.

"Yes," Wesley nodded.

"Vision good too?"

"Yes."

"He fast?"

"Yes."

Spike snapped the pencil in his hand and dropped it to the ground. "What about his metabolism? Can he eat anything he wants and not get all flabby like his dad here?"

Angel looked up with a scowl, but that didn't deter Wesley. "Yes. His metabolism is quite fast. Not that Angel is... flabby." Wesley cast Angel a look, and turned back to his book with a grin. Angel was pretty vain, for a guy without a reflection.

Angel stood from his seat and walked around the counter until he was facing Spike. "You may want to move Skittles to another room."

"Or not." Spike narrowed his gaze at the taller man. "Connor has to take care of it. It's his cat and, if he's not going to be responsible about it, you should give Skits away."

"You're still upset about the stupid cat eating your candy. Can't you even drop a grudge against a cat?" Angel turned away in exasperation.

"Drop a grudge?!" Spike stomped his foot, and smiled spitefully when he realized it cracked the tile beneath his feet. "Angelus, I dropped a one hundred and twenty year grudge... for *your* sake! You don't think I could get over a kitty eatin' some damn bite sized candies? You're an ass." Spike stomped away from his Sire and up the stairs. He wasn't sure where he was planning on going. He just knew that he had to get away from Angel as soon as possible.

Angel waited until Spike had made his way upstairs and had slammed a door -- probably his own -- behind him. He rubbed his face with both hands and turned toward Wesley. "Am I an ass?

"Yes." Wesley flipped a page in his book and sighed. "But I'm not an impartial player in this game. Ask someone who likes you."

"What's your problem? I haven't tried to kill you lately or anything," Angel huffed as he walked in his office and slammed the door behind him.

"What is it with vampires and slamming doors?" Wesley thought aloud. He shrugged and went back to his reading. Maybe they would get over whatever it was that was really upsetting them.

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"Spike, open your door!" Connor screamed through the wood barricade.

"Nope. Not 'til you settle down. Daddy dearest seems to think you'll stake me for whatever reason you've fabricated this time." Spike answered his surly brother.

"I won't kill you. I won't even hurt you." The "much" on the end of that sentence, was as good as said the moment Connor opened his mouth again. "I'm not even that mad."

"The 'that' makes all the difference, little bro. Go and take a cool shower or sumptin'." Spike faked a yawn. "It's almost mornin' and I'm beat."

"Not yet, you're not! OPEN THIS DOOR!" Connor beat against the door with his closed fists. It probably would have fell from the blows, if Spike hadn't been leaning against the other side.

"Boys, what seems to be the problem?"

Connor saw the concerned green face out of the corner of his eye and groaned inwardly. "Spike made the cat spray my room."

"And by spray, I don't suppose you mean bug repellent." Lorne scrunched up his nose, in distaste, when Connor shook his head. "Lovely. Spike, precious, would you open up the door if I promised that Connor would not hurt you?"

"What're you gonna do? Sing 'im to death? No, I think I like me chances of survivin' better when I'm on this side of the door." Spike knew he sounded stupid. He was the Big Bad, trembling over a little boy? No, to tell the truth, he really didn't want to hurt Connor. Plus, what if Connor gave as good as he got and then Angel jumped in? Who would Angel save first? Connor. Well, duh, the kid is alive... as in non-dead. Spike would be laid out as flat as the pavement and Angelus would be the steamroller.

Lorne sighed heavily. This was stupid. A vampire hiding from a kid? He knew there had to be more to it than that but, for all his psychic abilities, he could not guess what it was. "Connor, hum a few bars of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb' for me."

"Hum what?" Connor pulled a face, making Lorne grunt in frustration.

"Just hum a song or a bar of something musical sounding, maybe."

Connor hummed something kind of musical and Lorne winced. "My voice isn't that horrible," Connor pouted.

"No," Lorne agreed. "Certainly nothing like your dad's."

"Damn straight!" Spike yelled from the other side of the door. "Angelus sounds like a goose swallowing a razor while being plucked by a demon with razor sharp nails... except worse."

Lorne laughed, when he realized the analogy was not that far off. "Actually," Lorne addressed Connor, "I kinda saw you and Spike. Both big bloody messes, so I think it would be better if you did as Spike suggested. Maybe you should go and pick yourself out a new room. Let the cat run free in your present one. You can have words with Spike after he stops cowering."

"I'm not cowering!" Spike exclaimed. He was insulted. A master vampire like him cowering? Yeah right. Cowering was not his way. He was a 'meet it head on' type of guy. Unless, of course, *it* was a testy teenager with a dad that would as soon snap Spike's neck than look at him at the moment.

"Yeah, doll. You say potato and I say po-tah-to -- except I don't say po-tah-to, but you know what I mean. Hey, tiger, how about you move some of that growling and brooding down to your room?" Lorne shooed Connor down the hall and leaned against Spike's door. "The kid's gone. You coming out?"

"If I do, will you give me a parade?" Spike muttered into the splintery surface of the door.

"What was that?" Lorne asked, pressing his ear up to the opposite side.

"Never mind. Just stuff and nonsense." Spike opened the door and Lorne almost tumbled tail over horns into the drafty room.

"Umm-hmm..." Lorne dusted some imaginary dirt off his bright yellow suit and grinned up at Spike. "You done hiding from the tyke?"

"I wasn't hiding, either. I was saving him from a bloody nose and me from embarrassment." Spike sulked over to his bed and sat down, with a huff.

"Embarrassment?" Lorne was genuinely confused. "I thought you had the chip removed months ago."

"I did, but this type of embarrassment would stem from a different type of muzzle. You know, the type with teeth." Spike waved his hand at Lorne, silently asking him to understand, asking him to leave, asking him to just not hurt his ego any more than necessary.

"I get it." Lorne walked over and took a seat next to Spike. "Papa bear might jump in between Mama bear and Baby bear's spat and upset the whole thing."

"I do not like that analogy." Spike's forehead wrinkled up in thought. "I'd prefer to be Goldilocks than 'Mama bear'." Spike pointed to his head and grinned. "Kinda almost applies. Mama bear does not."

"Potato, po-tah-to." Lorne got up from his seat and stretched languidly. "As long as you aren't shoving a cat into my room, we'll be okey-dokey. So, Spike, let me ask. Why did you do it? You knew Connor would react like that. You had to."

Spike grinned devilishly. "Well, I didn't know he would take offense. I figured it was his cat, so he should take care of it and..."

"You lie." Lorne stated matter-of-factly, as he rested his head in his palm.

"I was trying to rile Angel up. He's been kinda moody lately, cause of somethin' I'm not sure I should tell you about, and I just wanted to get him going." Spike shrugged. "He got me more riled than I got him, I'm afraid."

Lorne flashed Spike a wide, white, knowing grin. "Yep, sounds about right, Mama bear. I guess I should go downstairs now. It's a work day and I probably should at least try to look busy."

Spike nodded in agreement. "Shut the door on your way out." Lorne headed out the door and was just about to shut it when Spike added hastily, "You think you could do me a small favor?"

Lorne turned toward the platinum vampire and couldn't help grinning at the goofy smile he received. "M'kay. What can I do for you, Sugar?"

"How horrible would it be for you to listen to Angel sing again?" Spike -- literally -- sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for Lorne's answer.

Lorne shuddered at the thought. It would be pure torture. Not that he was completely opposed to a little pain every now and then... He was a demon, after all. Pain was just another way to feel something, but this... This was completely and utterly masochistic. "Would you tell me why? What would I be looking for?"

"Have you ever tried mixing your abilities with the interpretation of dreams?" Spike grinned lazily, as he and Lorne devised a sneaky -- and admittedly stupid -- plan to get Angel to spill his dream.

~Part: 6~ Go with the Flow

Angel jumped when he heard loud thumping sounds coming from the ceiling, which caused him to spill a mug of blood on some old documentation he had stolen from Wesley. He wished that he had a broom handle, so he could cause some thumps of his own. Angel concentrated on sending some angry vibes in Spike's direction. He knew that the blood between them had thinned out in the last century, but he could still hope that Spike would feel some pin prickle of sensation from his Sire. Of course, that was probably hoping too much.

Angel tried soaking up the spilled blood with his shirtsleeve and winced when he heard the thumping upstairs grow louder. "Spike!" He knew that Spike probably wouldn't hear his call and, even if he did, he would probably ignore it. It was the first time he had acknowledged his Childe's existence in the last two days. The thumping grew louder. "Stupid boy. *William*!" Angel swore, as he looked down at his sleeve. Another shirt ruined.

"What?!" Angel looked up to find his Childe's frowning face hovering in the doorway. "You don't have to yell, *Angelus*!"

The thumps continued and Angel was stumped. "If that's not you, then who is stomping around upstairs?"

Spike grinned. "Oh. That's Skittles."

"What? How could a little kitten make all that noise?" Angel got up from his seat and walked around his desk to sit on the corner.

"Well, I didn't say he was making the noise alone. Connor is chasing him around the room. It's kinda cute... in an annoying, bad way." Spike walked up to his Sire, signature smirk sketching itself across his features. He grabbed the cuff of Angel's shirtsleeve between his thumb and forefinger, rubbing the material. "Make a mess, did ya?"

Angel looked down at the stain and smiled. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"If you wanted to go shopping, you didn't have to bloody your shirt up. You could have just said 'We're going shopping' and I woulda jumped in that deathtrap you call a car and we woulda been on our way." Spike dropped his hand and hugged himself. "It's kinda cold tonight. That's strange, you know. Things like that usually don't register with me, since I'm dead and all."

"We?" Angel asked.

"We what? Oh, you mean about going shopping? Yeah. I mean, someone has to make sure you don't dress up like a poof. The others haven't done such a good job on that front so I figured, between me and Lorne, we could have you dress up like a right..."

"Ponce?" Angel smirked at the startled look Spike gave him.

"No. I'm trying to save you from looking like a ponce." Spike headed back toward the door. "Why don't you get something else on -- something that doesn't scream 'I'm a serial killer' -- and I'll go get Lorne. We can go buy you some more shirts and I can get some cig... a new pair of pants."

Angel gave Spike a knowing smile. "What's wrong with the pants you have on?"

Spike grinned back. His Sire wasn't a fool. "I'm wearing a hole in the arse. It's becoming threadbare, and I don't favor showing the lot of you the backside of the beautiful work of art which is me."

Angel couldn't help chuckling. "You still don't wear underclothes, do you?"

"Curiosity dusted the vamp." Spike quirked a brow. "Hurry up and change your shirt."

Angel watched Spike leave the room and smirked. Spike, taking *him* shopping? Now, that was an interesting idea. Hadn't Spike pointed out how he had hated getting dressed up by Angel, when he was a fledgling? Was this some sort of revenge? One could only hope, Angel thought with a laugh.

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"I'm not wearing that." Angel threw the bright blue sweater back at the source of his annoyance.

Lorne caught the shirt as it was flung in his face. "Angel, why do you keep rejecting everything I show you? I was almost positive you would like this one." Lorne folded the shirt and placed it back on the shelf. "You're too picky."

"Thank the gods for that. Last thing we need is for Angel to go jumpin' the next little blonde thing that walks by," Spike muttered as he pulled a dark red silk shirt off of a hanger, and tossed it to Angel. "I know you'll like that one. I'll let you get it, if you humor Lorne on the blue sweater."

Angel grinned, as he looked at the shirt. Then he looked at the tag and winced. "I don't wear an extra large, Spike. Give me a large." He handed the shirt back to Spike, who was now grinning like a fool.

"Hey, what can I say? You look like you've put on a few pounds -- if twenty pounds can be called a few." Spike shrugged and draped the shirt over the rail he had gotten it off of. He picked up a large and handed to his Sire. "I suggest you try it on."

"I know what size I wear, Spike, and I haven't put on weight." Angel put the shirt up against his torso and almost cringed. It would be an act of God if he could actually fit it over his chest. He looked up to find Spike grinning at him.

"You're fat." Spike erupted in laughter when Angel's forehead drew together and his bottom lip stuck out. "You're also a pouter... and a poofter. Don't forget that you're a poofter."

"Said the Billy Idol wanna-be. By the way, Spike..." Angel cast a glance at his childe's new pants that he was now wearing. They were the same black jeans he was accustomed to, except more form-fitting. "Do you think those jeans are tight enough? I can't tell that you run around commando... You know, except that I can."

Spike chuckled. Like him and Dru didn't run around naked in the moonlight, way back when him and Angel were soulless. Like Darla and Angelus didn't laugh their asses off, and make bets on who was the bigger exhibitionist. Like Angel really wanted to visit those memories. Like he really cared what his Sire wanted. "I'll buy some undies if it bothers you so much. I like these pants. They show off my tight li'l..."

"So..." Lorne interrupted. "Here's a nice brown button up."

Spike looked over and grabbed the piece of cloth. "Oh, this is mine. Good, it's a medium. I'm tiny and cute -- unlike some other broody vampires I know." Spike slipped the shirt on over his black tee shirt and buttoned it up. It fit snugly, but in a good way. "I like. Angel, did you bring your credit cards?"

Angel rolled his eyes and headed toward the dressing room. "I never pegged you for a Spartan. Dressing out in the open..."

"I could be undressing out in the open. Give the kiddies a nice show and all." Spike unbuttoned the shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders. He motioned for Lorne to follow him, and they both made their way after Angel.

"Isn't it enough that we have Lorne here? Do you really feel the need to make a bigger commotion?" Angel walked into the room and closed the door behind him.

"I probably should feel insulted." Lorne shrugged. "But I found this candy apple red sports jacket over there earlier, and my mind keeps on slipping back to it. You don't think anyone will buy it first, do you?"

"My guess would be... no." Spike smiled sweetly and turned toward the dressing room Angel occupied.

Angel looked around the small space and sniffed. Who ever thought that a grown man could change in a three-by-three dressing room should have their intestines wrapped around their necks, Angel thought idly, as he peeled off his black button up, and knocked his elbow into the wall.

"Be careful, Sire. Don't want you ripping holes in the fabric. If you feel that it won't fit over those massive shoulders of yours, then don't force it. Just throw it back out here and I'll get you a bigger size." Spike leaned against the dressing room door and grinned at the cursing he heard on the other side.

"My shoulders aren't *that* massive."

Spike could actually hear the pout in Angel's voice. "You know what? I think it must run in the family. You and Connor are a lot alike. Not *that* much alike, I'm sure." Spike mocked.

Angel answered by tossing the shirt he'd unsuccessfully tried on over the door. "Get me the extra large," he growled. He hated when Spike was right.

Spike handed Lorne the shirt, which had landed on his head, and motioned him to go. "So, Angel, while I have you trapped, what have you been dreaming about?" Spike heard a warning growl from the other side of the door, but decided to ignore it. "Don't push on the door, I'll only push back. Oh, and don't try to bust through it either, Angelus. These little pieces of wood here at my back can make pretty good stakes if they're broken right."

"Spike, move away from the door." Angel tried to keep his tone neutral, but failed miserably.

"That would be a big uh-uh, Love." Spike leaned his weight into the door and sighed. "How can I protect myself if I don't know what's after me?"

"I'll protect you," Angel murmured.

"That's sweet, Angel, but ridiculous. You aren't with me all the time. Even though I'm staying home a lot more, you can't always be with me." Spike took an unneeded breath, and let it out. "Think logically, pet. I'll probably drive you crazy, and then you'll want to *give* me to this big nasty you're so afraid of."

"No." Angel hit the door, just hard enough to make Spike jump forward and stumble over his own feet. He took the chance to open it before Spike could regain his footing. He stood over his Childe, shirtless, glaring down at him. "That was stupid."

"But necessary." Spike looked over his shoulder at the vampire looming over him. "You must tell me what I'm up against. Are you in trouble, too? Is Connor, or Wes? Gunn, Cordy, Fred, Lorne?"

"You rang?" Lorne walked up to the two arguing vamps and took in the situation. Shirtless, angry Sire standing over angry, snarling Childe. "Maybe now is not a good time." Lorne turned around and followed his feet to Men's apparel. "Got to love vampires. They're never boring."

Angel offered Spike a hand, and pulled him to his feet. "I'll take care of it."

"Does the *it* have a name or a gender?" Spike continued to try and bleed information out of his Sire. Not in the literal sense, of course. That was plan C.

"Yes." Angel pointed at the shirt he'd left crumpled in the dressing room. "Is it okay if I go and get that, or are you going to do something stupid again?"

"Good thing about me, Angel. I never do the same stupid thing twice." Spike grinned at the look his Sire gave him. "In a row. I never do the same stupid thing twice in a row." Spike nodded along with his statement.

Angel walked into the room and slipped his shirt on. He was almost too tired to button it. The whole situation with Spike had drained him. Not in the literal sense, of course. Spike was too smart for that.

"Angel, if you are really worried about it, then you should tell me, you know?" Spike tried again, but he knew that he wasn't getting anywhere.

"I know. It's not the right time or the right place, though." Angel was rumpled and more than a little tired. His hair was messy, his shirt was wrinkled, and all he wanted to do was go home and play with Skittles.

If playing Angel was like playing a baseball game, Spike knew he would be striking out. "You wanna go? We can go buy your shirts you already have picked, get Lorne, and head back home."

"Yeah, let's get going. I'm starting to feel old." Angel glared at Spike, successfully shushing the predictable quip that tried to escape his mouth. "Don't say anything."

Spike grinned. "About what? You being old?"

Angel held back a chuckle and headed toward the Men's clothes where he'd spotted a pair of red horns. "Shut up. I'm not that much older than you, boy."

"Yeah, you keep telling yourself that, old man." Spike rushed over to where Lorne stood smiling at the coat he was wearing. "Nice coat."

"Yeah, and practically a steal. I wonder how they could price it so low and nobody has bought it yet." Lorne played with the lapels of the coat and smiled wider.

"I wonder," Angel muttered. "You ready to go?"

"Yeah, let's buy this stuff and head out." Spike pulled at the coat Lorne was wearing and grabbed up the other items. "Come with me, Lorne. We'll buy this stuff so Angel doesn't have to converse with the dreaded checkout people. Angel, you drive the car around so Lorne and me don't have to walk so far."

Angel tossed his wallet at Spike and headed outside without a grumble. He really didn't want to talk to the people behind the counter up front. They always wanted to ask how his day was going, and they really didn't want to know the answer. And they always looked so happy, even when you could smell all the other emotions right there on their skin. Those hypocritical smiley faces, taking his credit cards and making his life hell. He sighed at his train of thought. He really needed some undisturbed sleep.

Spike gathered the clothes closer to his body and walked up to the front, placing them on the counter in front of the shiny faced teenager working the register. "My day sucked, don't ask." The boy nodded, and started ringing up the items. Spike turned toward Lorne and stomped his foot in frustration. "It didn't work. Plan A was a bust and we're going to have to skip to Plan B." Spike smirked. "It looks like it's up to you now. Do you think we should get Wesley in on it?"

"He'd probably get a kick out of it," Lorne shrugged.

"Either that, or have an aneurysm. I know the poof's voice isn't exactly sweet to listen to. The guy was always looking for new ways to torture the lot of us. You'd think he wouldn't sink low enough as to tie me up and sing. Dru loved it. She was crazy." Spike grinned. "I feel bad for you, though."

Lorne just shrugged. He knew it sounded stupid, but just thinking about this plan of Spike's made him want a drink horribly.

Spike handed the boy behind the counter a credit card and signed the receipt.

The kid looked at it and frowned. "Angel? You don't have a last name?"

Spike shrugged and picked up his bags. "What can I say? I'm a child of the 80s." Spike nodded toward the door and winked at Lorne. "Come on. Let's go mess with my Sire."

~Part: 7~ Where Angels Fear to Tread

The ride home had been torture. Lorne was obviously in league with the devil, a.k.a. Spike, and Angel was close to losing it. He could handle Spike. He had spent years learning how to handle Spike, but when Spike recruited someone to help him, he went for the best. Angel slumped down into his bed and sighed. He wasn't sure whether it was a sigh of relief or a sigh of exhaustion. The worst things was, he knew that there was almost absolutely no chance of him getting sleep tonight

Angel didn't bother to take off his shoes, as he settled his face into his pillow and snuggled into the comforter. "Stupid, stupid boy." Angel almost said it affectionately. Spike was certainly dedicated to whatever stupid plans he had. Angel could only think that the episode at the store had been plan number one. He would hate to see what plan two was, and then again he couldn't wait.

Spike's stupid plans and asinine ideas were what kept him young, as of late. As he watched Connor age day by day, he felt older, but Spike never changed. Well, he did, but not age-wise. Angel felt himself drifting off and he allowed sleep to overtake him. He had a restful sleep, for a while, and then the voice started to creep into his mind.

"Angelus..." Just a breath. "Sire?" A whisper of a memory. "I can't sleep."

Angel knew he should probably ignore his dreams. Maybe they would leave him alone. He couldn't, though. They were too real and he knew that he would be swept away. "What is it, William?" He murmured into his pillow.

"Sire?" Angel glanced over and found a pair of startling blue eyes, staring back at him.

Angel turned back over, with a groan. "Go ta' sleep, William. You and your brother should not haunt me dreams, boyo. They don't end, at all, good." Angel found that in his dreams, the demons that haunted him responded better to Angelus. He would give them a voice, but nothing more.

"Brother?" William asked, in a whisper. "Why would he be here?"

"Go ta' bed." Angel tried to be stern. "Leave me be, acushla." He tried again, when he felt the bed dip. "I need quite." He whispered harshly.

He heard William sigh and he smelled the sadness there. "Sire? I'm restless because you are. Could you sing to me? A lullaby, like the one you sang to Dru when she was feeling down?"

Angel sighed. Humor your demons and you get hurt, but how could he say no? "Troo ra loo ra loo ra." Angel groaned. His voice wasn't any better in his dreams. The plight of the tone deaf. "I'm no good at comfort, my boy."

"It's all right, Sire." Angel heard the smile in William's voice. "You try. That's all that I ask." Angel could feel William's hand smooth over the back of his hair and come down to pet his neck. "Sleep, Sire. Dream the dreams where angels tread."

Angel sighed, audibly. William. *His* William. He gave his mind a mental shake. It was all fantasy. His imagination. Why would it be real? A soul hadn't made William. Twenty-three years of living in London, taking care of an invalid mother, and writing poetry, was what made William. Poetry... Where Angel's tread? Wasn't the term, where angels fear to tread?

"Yes. I believe you're right about that, Angelus." So the nightmare began.

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Lorne was sitting in a chair, sipping some Bourbon. What had he agreed to? He was going to get himself in the middle of a feud and he wasn't sure how to get out. Angel was going to figure things out and he was going to get his head taken off... not that it was really that big of a deal, but still it wasn't exactly a delightful situation. Lorne slumped down in his seat and sighed. How had he gotten pulled into this?

Oh, yeah. Spike. Spike was very persuasive. He had to give him that much. And stubborn. Yes, the guy was definitely stubborn. And screwed. Yup, he was a dead man... Umm... pile of dust. Lorne found the pictures in his head upsetting, but the worst part of it was the emotions that were accompanying them. He didn't exactly know what these pictures meant and that was also very disturbing. Apparently Angel's dreams were clips and phrases from the past, present, and future meshed together. Only Angel could truly interpret them and he had become denial guy, lately.

"So?" Spike walked into the room and dived onto Lorne's bed, face first. He rumpled up the comforter, until it surrounded him like a nest and then opted to turn over, so he could see Lorne's face. "What? I'll fix it before I go. Not like you aren't going to sleep in a minute, anyway. So, what about it?"

Lorne shrugged and went back to sipping his drink. Spike was a child. An immature, one-hundred-and-thirty some odd year old child. A happy, smart, funny, witty, child who was going to die. Lorne wanted to yell at him, but he knew that wouldn't help the situation. "Spike, you want a drink? I have Scotch."

Spike shook his head slowly. Something was wrong. Lorne was stalling for some reason. It must be bad, he thought, with a sigh. "Just tell me."

"He doesn't think that he can save you. He thinks that you are going to be dust and he is going to be at fault." Lorne downed the rest of his drink and winced.

Spike nodded. "And? He always thinks I'm going to be dust and he's going to be at fault. He's got that whole guilt thing going on. He thinks Connor and kitten are going to die before either one of 'em reach next week, Cordelia and Fred are going to be raped and murdered, Wes and Gunn will die fighting, and you are gonna' have your heart ripped outta' your arse. No, this is something different. Is it focused on me, directly?"

"Yes and no." Lorne leaned forward in his chair.

"Don't be cryptic. I gotta' know what this is. If not for my safety, for curiosities sake. " Spike laid back on the bed. "Am I gonna' be kidnapped? Tortured? Staked?" Spike sat back up. "Not another slayer, right? I'm through with them."

Lorne smiled. "No. No slayers. I'm not getting a feminine vibe off of this one."

"You wouldn't." Spike stated, dryly.

"No. It's male, whatever it is. Look, Spike, if I were you I would pretend like I knew nothing and wait for Angel to tell you what's going on. The images in my head are sketchy, at best."

Spike shook his head. "Angel gave me his answer. He doesn't want me to know what's going on and if he gets his way I won't. He's stubborn. "

"Almost as stubborn as you?" Lorne asked, with a grin.

"Almost." Spike agreed. "So tell me what you know."

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

"Skittles!" Connor walked the halls of the Hyperion searching for his kitten. The little rascal had succeeded in tearing a pretty nice hole in Spike's coat and Connor wanted to make sure he found Skittles before Spike did.

He wasn't scared for his cat's physical health, by any means, but Spike had trapped Skittles under a whicker chair, a garbage can, and a clothes hamper, all in the last two days. The cat could lose its mind, if Spike wasn't careful. Connor figured Skittles being trapped like that, was like him being trapped in his room. Grounded? Was that what it was called? Kids on TV were grounded all the time. He killed demons. Normal teenage life, as far as he was concerned, but, of course, he didn't know any normal teenagers.

"Skittles!" Connor smiled, when he thought back to his dad trying to play with the little puffball.

"Arrogant cat." Angel stated, wryness evident in his voice. He had called it and called it and it still just batted at the curtains. Cats didn't answer, when called. One downfall in their personalities and suddenly they were arrogant.

"He's not arrogant." Connor defended Skittles, as he picked him up and cradled it against his chest. "He just knows who he wants to acknowledge and who he doesn't."

"In other words, he's arrogant." Angel smiled and settled back into his seat.

Connor thought a moment and laughed. "If that's arrogant, then yes he is. But I don't care, because he's mine and I love him."

"Yeah." Angel nodded, leaning his head back against the chair. "I know the feeling."

"I'm not arrogant." Connor was frowning and the kitten felt the tinge of apprehension there. It swatted at his hair and grabbed a lock, in its paws. Connor tickled its feet, causing the kitten to lash out, but to no avail. It was trapped.

"No, you're not." Angel agreed with his son. Connor was untrusting and possibly a little shy (Around humans), but certainly not arrogant. Well, not from a father's view point. "I wasn't talking about you."

"Oh, you meant Spike." Connor laughed, when the kitten hissed at him. "You little monster. How am I ever supposed to train you, when you are just so cute." Connor pulled a face and shot a glance at his dad. "Please, don't tell me you think Spike is cute."

"I won't." Angel grinned at his son's show of 'being grossed out', as Cordelia would put it. Some things were inherent. Kids would be kids, or something like that.

"I don't think Spike would like to hear you say that." Skittles wanted to get down. It twisted and turned and finally it just stretched its front paws out, until it resembled a little furry Superman. Connor ignored it. "He would probably be offended if he thought anyone, especially you, thought anything he did was cute. Can I tell him you said it?"

"But I didn't." Angel smirked at the pout Connor put on. For some reason he felt like his son was wearing it for the cat.

"We can't have any fun, can we?" Connor said, while snuggling the furry face of his pet.

Connor gave himself a mental shake. He was pretty sure he had changed his mind about the disciplining of Skittles, by this point. When he found him, he was going to whip his hide. "Skittles!" Connor heard a strangled meow coming from a door to his left. "Skittles?" He opened the door, letting the hall light flood the bedroom. "Here kitty."

The meow that answered was quiet, almost muted. Connor flipped on the light switch and glanced around the room. A small trail of blood led from the doorway beneath the bed. Connor prepared himself for the worst, as he stalked to the bed and bent down. "Skittles?" He lifted the dust ruffle and sighed. Skittles held a rat, almost as big as himself, clenched in his teeth. Connor reached under the bed and pulled the vicious hunter out by the scruff of the neck. "Don't scare me like tha... Oh!"

Connor pulled the rat out of Skittles' mouth and examined it. It was headless. "That would explain the blood, but what explains the head missing." He turned the rat over and found a neatly carved cross on its underbelly. "This just gets weirder." Connor looked at the kitten. "I should take this to Angel."

Connor clenched the rat in his fist and held Skittles up to his face. "Are you okay?" Connor knew it was impossible, but he could have sworn that the kitten nodded. He sniffed his pet, inspecting it for poisoning or rabies. "Still smell like kitten." He said with a smile. "At least, I don't have to kill anyone." Connor tucked Skittles inside of his shirt and walked out into the hallway. Who would be crazy enough to do something like this, he wondered, as he walked toward his dad's bedroom.

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

Wesley had fallen asleep over his books, again. For some reason he had been put into some type of studying frenzy, in the last few days. He couldn't eat without finally returning back to his books, sandwich in hand. He couldn't sleep without dreaming of the creatures in the text. He couldn't talk without discussing incantations and the mating habits of Granarl demons. He felt like he was studying to become a Watcher, all over again... Without the shadow of his parents looming over him, of course. That wasn't all, though.

Wesley felt like he was looking for something specific. Something wanted him to find it in these books. If he could only find out what it was. Maybe, he could get some rest.

"What in the bloody hell!" Wesley heard the scream from upstairs, jarring him from sleep.

"Spike?" He wondered out loud. He closed his book and headed up the stairs, to see what was the matter. He listened for Spike and heard his irritated cat's whine, coming from Lorne's room, on the first floor. He opened the door and found Spike standing over Lorne, who was drowning himself in a drink.

"But the gaffer told me he was gone." Spike's fists clenched at his sides. "He didn't just say he was gone. He said that there was abso-bloody-lutely no way to bring him back." Spike started to pace up and down the room, shoulders tensed. He didn't even seem to notice Wesley hovering in the doorway, which was quite odd, seeing as how he had all of those lovely preternatural senses.

Wesley stepped into the room and stroked his unshaven chin. He didn't really want to address Spike when he was in such a bad mood. "Lorne?"

"Yeah, I see you hoverin' sweet pea. Come on in. I may need all the help I can get here. Spike's talking a lot, and I mean a lot, of slang here and I'm not sure what it means. Have you heard the term 'mouth and trousers' before?"

"It means someone is full of hot air." Wesley interpreted.

"Oh, well that makes things a little less shady." Lorne said with a smirk. "Okay, what does wonky and whinging pom mean to you?"

"Wonky means unreliable and a... whinging pom. Dear, God. A sort of... Literally speaking it's a bitching Englishman." Wesley narrowed his gaze. "What is going on?"

Spike looked up at his friend and smiled, grimly. "Angel thinks we're all going to die."

Wesley shook his head in confusion. "What do you mean?"

"That Angel is a git. He thinks that a stupid dream is gonna' kill us all. I mean, yeah his dreams have meaning and symbolism, but just cause he sees me and me brother playing like we are going to slaughter each other, doesn't mean that's going to happen. It could be a dream from the past. Like we haven't gone at each other before!"

"But Spike... You and Connor have always seem to have gotten along."

Spike laughed, harshly, at the confusion in Wesley's voice. "You silly ponce." He muttered it warmly. Not that brother. We're talking about Penn."

~Part: 8~ Dust in the Wind

So the nightmare began.

Darkness was creeping along the walls. The door was closing slowly, making the light in the room shrink away, back to its home in the hallway. It didn't really matter; Angel's eyesight was just as good in the dark as it was in the light. He looked around the room, hoping that he would be alone. Finally, alone. He had no such luck.

'Angelus? You are still in bed. Shouldn't you be out fighting crime?' The voice. That beautiful, horrible voice.

Why was there a voice? He hadn't talked to him before. 'What are you doing here?' Angel threw his legs over the bed and searched the darkness for the face of his tormentor.

'Maybe I'm getting back at my father.' The hurt was evident; the scorn was scalding. 'I've been doing it for two hundred years. Why stop now?' All of their bloodline carried the same pout.

Angel shook his head. So his words had come back to haunt him, again. 'I should have never said that.'

'Don't apologize now, Sire. I don't want your apologies.' It was a hiss. Not exactly a Viper's call, but a hiss all the same. 'What are you thinking?'

The voice drew nearer and Angel could make out the figure of his childe. 'I'm not sure what to think.'

'Would you like to look at me? You know who I am, but you have yet to see my face.' Angel grabbed his cheek when he felt a puff of cool air hit his face. 'You've felt my presence, figuratively, and now literally speaking, as well.' Angel waited, as his childe stalked behind him and slipped his arms around his waist. A low rumbling purr came from the chest pressed against his back. 'I hated dying.' The hug became an uncomfortable vice-like grip. 'You want to know why?'

Angel didn't know what to do. Everything in him said to fight. His demon, his soul said to protect himself, but the small part of him that was human said no. He didn't want to make Penn think he felt any ill will toward him. This dream was different than the rest, if this was a dream. Angel truly wasn't sure. It definitely felt real, but so had all the others. 'Why, my boy?' Angel felt Penn's face press against the back of his shoulder and nuzzle.

'It made me miss you. I didn't want to miss you.' Penn let his grip loosen and finally, let his hands fall to his sides. In a short moment, he was across the room and flipping the light switch. 'You betrayed us all.' Penn smiled sweetly at his Sire. He swayed over to the mussed up bed and sat on the corner. 'Why?'

Penn was asking questions? He really wanted to know what had happened, what had made the change?

'I caught you off guard? Good. That seems to be something I couldn't have done before I died. Maybe death was all that could remedy it. You never thought that I would actually turn to dust. Did you, Angelus? You thought that I would outlive the great Methuselah. I would grow old, get bat ears, and live forever as a master vampire, like you. Except... It's all changed.' Penn looked down at his lap, solemnly. 'You don't plan to grow old, anymore.' Penn looked back up to his Sire and grinned. 'You don't have to explain the gypsies to me. I know.'

Angel fought the urge to cringe at Penn's tone of voice. He had done something horrible and he wanted Angel to guess. It was an old game from the past that Angelus had found amusing. Angel did not. Penn, on the other hand, was bouncing up and down on the edge of Angel's bed, like a happy child waiting for his bedtime story. Angel wondered if death had taken the rest of Penn's sanity away from him.

'Naughty Sire. Brooding over a childe long lost. Can you not read my mind any longer? Is the blood so faint between us?' Penn stood up and closed the space between him and Angel. 'Would you like to refresh it?' Penn turned his head to the side, displaying the creamy, white column of flesh.

Angel took a step backwards. Penn was offering his blood? A sign of submission was for the tormented, not the tormentor. Penn was playing another game. He had to be.

'No, then?' Penn stuck out his bottom lip and shrugged, nonchalantly. 'If William offered, you wouldn't reject him.' It wasn't a question; it was a statement. 'Would you reject Darla, knowing the last thing she did was sacrifice herself for your child?' Angel was taken back. Penn knew about... 'Yes, I know about Connor. I know about your horribly tormented soul and about how William the Bloody, my dear brother, has been welcomed back into the fold of your loving care. I also know something you don't know. You don't want to guess, do you?"

Angel shook his head. Of course he didn't want to guess. Why prolong the aching in his gut? Could the dead get stomach ulcers? No, probably not.

'Dru is dead, again. First, by you. Now, by me. Don't worry, Angelus. I don't want to punish you. I want to be you.' Penn was being wistful and Angel couldn't stand it any more. He picked Penn up off of his feet and hurled him at the headboard of his bed. Penn's body lay limp on the mattress. 'You do know this is a dream, right?' Penn turned his head and smiled at his Sire. 'You can't hurt me.'

'That's where you are wrong, boyo. I can hurt you just as readily as you can hurt me. What? A bit of an Irish lilt and you become weak in the knees? What type o' woman are you then, Penn? A Puritan tramp is what you are. It's all you ever were. A houseboy, until I could find someone to take good enough care of Dru, so's I could leave with me own Sire. You are a dirty, filthy, little scamp of a thing. That's all you were ever meant to be. Your earthly father knew it, just as I know it now.'

Penn's face grew dark, as Angel went on. He was hearing all of his thoughts and fears, played back to him in the form of his Sire. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He wasn't supposed to care, anymore. Before he knew what was happening, he had jumped back up to his feet. 'And what are you? A giant bully of a man. That's all you ever were, wasn't it? The bumbling drunk, chaser of skirts, man's man? Not much changes when you lose your soul. Eh, Angelus? You still liked your alcohol Irish, your women pliable, and your men half-crazed. As a matter of fact, you liked your women half-crazed, too. So, did gaining a soul make you all that different? Do you still like Irish liquor, flexible young women, and young men who push all of the right buttons?" Penn was standing face to face with his Sire. If his heart could beat, he knew it would be racing. 'Am I pushing the right buttons?'

Angel backhanded Penn, knocking his head to the side. Blood trickled down his childe's face from the upturned corner of his mouth. 'Yes.' Penn's face turned, facing Angel head on. 'You want to be me?' Angel mentally kicked himself. He was *not* going to feel any small amount of pride over this.

Penn shrugged. 'I don't want a soul. As a matter of fact, I don't want a son. I do want what you have, however. I want my family back. It is said that you can torture a demon out of a man. Can you torture a soul out of a demon?'

'I'm too strong for you.' Angel smirked, menacingly at his childe. 'You won't get the chance to find out.'

'Oh, tsk tsk, Sire. You are so vain. Like I would really torture you. I am a bigger fan of The Lore than that. You don't torture your Sire unless they order you to,' Penn said with a smile. 'It's intrinsic. You trained me well, Angelus.' Penn gave a mock sigh and sat back down on the bed corner. 'It has been rumored, though, that another vampire other than you carries a soul. Now, how is that for luck? Of course, I don't believe in luck. That was also inbred into me. I have to do this, you know. All of it. Dru, Spike... All of it.' Penn stared off into a dark corner a minute and then shook his head, as if shaking off a bad thought.

'Why, Penn?' Angel didn't really want to know why, but Penn would stick around until he asked all the right questions.

'I love you.' Penn said it with so much sincerity that Angel almost felt compelled to believe him. Of course, that was crazy. ' I can see your thoughts written across your face, as if you had it written there in bold print. What's wrong, Sire? You can't take a little sibling rivalry? I never said I would hurt *the boy*. I'm only interested in William. We have some things to settle.'

'That's not what I meant.' Angel stood over his childe and reached down to pet his head. It seemed almost loving, until he grabbed a handful of short-cropped hair and hauled him to his feet. He stared into his childe's eyes, searchingly. 'Since you're being so cryptic I'll ask one question at a time. Dru?'

'Does that even count as a question? A mono-syllabic word doesn't even begin to explain...' The grip tightened and Penn winced. '...the direction that your thought process is taking.'

'Penn, I thought I couldn't hurt you. You're cringing.' Angel yanked Penn's head back and laughed at the gasp he received.

'I never thought you would try.' Penn didn't even try lying to his Sire. He knew that Angel would see right through it. 'Umm... I guess you want me to tell you about Dru. Okay, I found Dru in Costa Rica. She was living in a cave under a waterfall. It was made up like a palace. Apparently, she had a small following, taking care of her needs. The following would be vampires, of course. They called her... Mother. She always wanted children.' Angel let his hold of Penn go and he took a halting step backward. 'I killed them, of course. I like to pride myself on the look that Dru had on her face, when she realized they were all dust. She whimpered about daddy not loving her, setting her on fire, taking grand-mum away, and her darling boy being taken over by a Slayer. I walked in and held her, until she stopped shivering. She looked up at me and squealed her delight. I stayed until I drained her of all she had to offer.' Penn smiled in remembrance. 'Then, I left her for the sun.'

'And you really think she's dead. You are a stupid childe. She's strong and crafty. Being crazy has nothing to do with a creature's will for survival.' Angel shook his head, a look of condescension written across his face.

'She's dead. I tried visiting her in her dreams. The air was blank.'

'Maybe she's too weak to dream or maybe she doesn't sleep with her eyes closed. It's hard for your head to paint pictures without a canvas to paint them on.'

Angel was being so calm that it started to worry Penn. What if Angel was right? Wasn't Angel always right? No. It wasn't right for Angel to allow a human to kill one of his children. Then, for him to not take any sort of revenge? That was adding insult to injury, by far. 'Don't you even want to know how I'm back?'

'Not particularly.' Angel smiled sweetly.

Okay, now that hurt. 'Maybe William would be interested. If he ever slept, I could ask him. He spends his nights keeping an eye on you. Well, wait a minute. I don't have to wait for him to sleep. Do I?' Penn stretched his arms. 'I'm starting to feel pretty strong. How do I look?' Penn stood up and turned a complete circle.

Angel almost couldn't help the urge to affirm his childe's opinion. Penn looked stronger now than he had the last time he saw him. Of course, last time they had been pinned together by a stake and Penn had turned into dust. 'The cut at your mouth has healed.'

Penn smiled knowingly. 'Your face tells me what your mouth refuses to say. No matter, Sire. I know how you are when it comes to such touchy subjects. I think I'll leave you now. You're starting to get broody again. You're more fun when you're pummeling me.' Penn shrugged and made his way to the door. 'It was fun.'

No it wasn't, Angel thought, as he watched his childe slip out the door.

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

The knock at the door jarred Angel from his sleep. He shot up in bed and threw the covers off of himself, before he could get tangled in them. Angel didn't take the time to wonder when he had pulled covers on or when he had slipped off his boots. He didn't even wait for the headache he had to die down before stumbling to the door and slinging it open. "What?!"

Connor jumped back, when he saw Angel in the doorway. The kitten howled and clawed at the dark figure. "What's the matter? You're all fangs." Connor sniffed the air. Sweat, fear, and something else. "Having dreams?"

Angel nodded and turned away from his son. Think happy thoughts, he thought to himself, as he slipped out of game-face. He turned back to Connor and automatically focused on the kitten. "He smells like blood."

Connor shook his head. "Not him. It's this." He held up the dead rat he had been holding and handed it to his father. "It was clinched in Skit's teeth. He was hiding under a bed, with it. I think he was afraid."

Angel looked the rat over and closed his eyes. The cross carved on its belly and the missing head... It couldn't even be warranted as a warning. It was more of a promise of things to come. "He's been here, in the hotel."

"Who?" Connor asked, while gripping his kitten tightly. The poor thing was about to have an aneurysm. It seriously looked like the animal was trying to crawl out of its skin.

"Connor, I want you to leave for a while. Do you think you could stay with Fred and Cordelia for a while? I know they wouldn't mind. I don't want you to be here, for what may happen in the next few days." Connor started to protest, so Angel pulled the trump card. "Take Skittles away from here. He'll get hurt."

Connor looked down at his kitty and nodded. What if that rat had been Skittles? He would have died a little inside, if anything happened to the kitten. "I'll take him away but, if you need my help, call me."

Angel agreed that he would and pulled Connor into a slightly awkward hug.

"Angel, I think I should stay." Connor was worried about his dad. Angel never pulled him into hugs. "And we're squishing Skittles." Connor stepped back out of his father's arms and looked down at the puffy kitten.

"No, you go on." Angel ruffled the cat's head, which pulled a growl out of the little guy. "We'll be okay."

"All right." Connor turned and sighed. "But I'll only be a few blocks away, if you need any more muscle."

"I know, and Connor... I love you, too." Angel smiled at his son as he walked down the hall toward his room. He would probably call the girls and pack an overnight bag, before he left. Smart boy, Angel decided, with pride

"Well, I guess I should look for Spike." Angel went to the stairs and headed up. He was sniffing out Spike, which was off limits, according to Spike, but Angel didn't care. He ended up in front of Lorne's doorway and knocked. "Can I come in?"

"Are you gonna' tell me what the hell is going on?" Spike yelled from the other side of the door.

"Will you let me in if I say I will?" Angel leaned his head against the wood and sighed.

"Yes. Move your big Neanderthal sized forehead away from the door, before you tumble on your way in." Angel took a step back and Spike opened the door. "So, you going to tell me what's up?"

"No." Angel smirked, when the door slammed in his face. This was going to be a long night.

~Part: 9~ The Battle of Who Could Care Less

"You're going to look like you're pregnant if you keep eating like that." Lorne watched Spike put down another slice of pizza, and shook his head.

Wesley rubbed his temples, trying to force the headache he was getting, away. "How many have you had so far, Spike?"

"Two." Spike said around a mouthful of sauce and pepperoni.

"That's not so many, Lorne." Wesley offered, as an argument for Spike's side.

"He's had two pizzas, not slices. He's eating out of depression and he needs to stop." Lorne smiled at the young man, lounging in his chair.

Wesley looked up, with a smirk. "Two whole pizzas? Are you sure he's *not* pregnant?"

"What? Angel starts having nightmares again and suddenly another vampire has to be pregnant? Well, not only is it not possible... it's not possible. Many different reasons why and I'm not going into it." Spike took another bite of pizza and groaned. He spit out an olive and sniffed. "Your pizza's getting mixed up with mine. Take that slice. I only got a bite." Spike put the piece back in the box and pushed it toward Wesley.

Wesley reached for the proffered slice and took a bite. "It's getting cold. You want me to warm it up?"

"No. It will give Angel another chance to try and come in. I wanna play 'fort' a little while longer." Spike stood up and started to pace up and down the room, hands clenched behind his back. "You guys having fun?"

Wesley curled his upper lip and shook his head. "Not especially. I haven't played fort since I was three and my older brother was five. Come to think of it, I didn't have any fun then either. My brother was and is a real jerk. Mum came in and told us to clean up before our father whipped our hides for making a mess."

"Sounds like a real nice guy, that one." Spike laughed ruefully. "Didn't know my own dad, but I can relate on the whipping of the hide. Let's just say I made a lot of messes as a fledgling." Spike collapsed on the bed and sighed. "Stupid poof won't tell me what's got him all..."

Spike was cut off by a knock at the door and a voice reaching out to him from beyond it. "Spike, let me in."

"You bein' hacked up to bits by an unknown monster who's out to kill me?" Spike asked, snidely.

"No." Angel banged his head against the door and sighed.

"Well, bugger all. Why don't you just die already?" Spike shook his head and walked over to the door. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to open it or not. Yes, he really wanted to stand his ground and not let Angel in, unless he decided to give in to his demands, but he also wanted Angel to be there with him, to reassure him that nothing was going to happen to them.

Spike knew that Angel was no longer standing outside the door. He stared at the wooden barricade he had placed between them. So many decisions. So many shades of gray. Spike looked back at Wesley and Lorne, who were whispering conspiratorially about Lorne's dream interpretations. Spike made his decision and slipped out the door, in search of his Sire. He shut the door behind him, quietly, and sniffed the air. I'm such a hypocrite, he decided, as he followed his Sire's scent.

He walked the hallways and made his way downstairs. He found Angel in the kitchen leaning over the sink, dishtowel draped over his left shoulder. "Your hands all prune-like, yet?"

Angel shook his head, but didn't turn toward his childe. "It's Penn. I'm sure you know it by now. That, last night, with you-- William-- wasn't a dream, was it?"

"No, it was me. It was dishonest, I know, but you were being so..."

"I know. I don't hold it against you. I should have told you before. I just didn't know how to bring it up." Angel laughed, without an ounce of happiness in the sound. "I guess I really should have just blurt it out, when you asked me. Everything about Penn brings up guilt with me. Guilt about him dying. Guilt about being the cause, twice. He wants to tear apart the family, one by one. Darla's already gone, and Dru..." Angel turned toward Spike and leaned back against the counter. "I'm sorry, Spike."

It took Spike a moment to find the meaning behind what Angel was not saying, but when it hit, it hit pretty hard. "She's dead?" Spike nodded, acceptingly. "I knew it would happen sometime and its not like we were still together, but..." Spike slumped down to the floor and buried his face in his hands. He hated crying, especially when someone was around, but the rush of emotion had a hold of him. Apparently, so did Angel. Spike leaned into the hug Angel had him trapped in and sobbed.

"I know. I felt it too. When he told me what happened, I felt the sense of loss. To lose a childe..." Angel gripped Spike to him and sighed. What could he say to make it better? Nothing. He had caused Dru so much pain in the past that he really had no room to talk, but what he had said so far seemed to make Spike stop crying.

"What he told you?" Spike pulled back from his Sire and looked him in the eyes. "You talked to Penn? I thought it was all images."

Angel sat back on his heals and nodded. "Not last night. After you left, he came into my head and we had a long talk. I think he may have lost whatever bit of sanity he had left."

"Well, Angelus, you know very well that every one of our bloodline is just a little crazy." Spike examined his nails and smirked. "I haven't painted my nails since I got here. All the paint has chipped off. These aren't my hands. These are William's hands. Think I should start writing again?" Spike smiled up at his Sire.

"No, I think we should send Wesley out to buy some black nail polish and you and I should spend a night drinking O-negative and watching Monty Python." Angel stood and pulled Spike with him. "How does that sound?"

Spike shrugged, as if it didn't make a difference. In all honesty, it made all the difference in the world. Angel cared about what was going on in Spike's head. He cared about what happened to their family and he was willing to take responsibility for it. "So, we gonna start on the 'Holy Grail' or 'The Meaning of Life'?" Spike hated to admit it, but Angel was more of a role model now than Angelus had ever been to him, in the past.

"I think Wesley has the old 'Flying Circus' tapes, in his room." Angel walked over to the fridge and pulled out a couple of bags of blood. "I've sent Connor and Skittles away. I don't think Penn would be stupid enough to hit us right away. I'm not even sure if he's in town."

"He has to die." Spike said it as if he was stating the sky was blue. It was an absolute. Penn had to die.

Angel shook his head, as he put the bags of blood into the microwave. "I can't kill him, Spike. He's my childe. I can kill him as easily as I could kill you." Angel turned around and caught Spike's disbelieving look. "Okay, a little easier than I could kill you, but not that much easier."

Spike shrugged. "I'll kill him. After I hurt him, real bad." Spike said it with a smirk. "I want to make him squeal."

Angel nodded and pulled his blood bag out of the microwave. "I can relate." He vamped out and ripped into the bag, sucking it dry.

Spike went over to the microwave and pushed Angel over to the side, so he could reach his bag. He looked at it and shook his head. "You eat. If you're going to save me from my deranged brother you need your strength. I'll go up and start the VCR." He placed the bag on the counter and headed upstairs.

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"Can I get you any thing else?" The girl was dressed as a stewardess. His skirt was a little short and her shirt's top two buttons were undone, but she still looked like a stewardess. "Sir?"

Penn looked down at the girl's feet and grinned. She wore shoes that resembled what his mother would have worn, except they were attached to a pair of four-inch heels. "Yes, I could use a drink."

He smiled at the girl and lowered his glasses, so that he was gazing at her over the frames. She really was beautiful, in a natural sort of way. Soft, smooth skin and light brown hair, which was swept back in a high ponytail. Her lips were full and naturally pink. Roses bloomed in her cheeks and her eyes were a bright blue and fringed with dark lashes. They missed that keen sense of intelligence that he was looking for, but they still reminded him of... "Hmm."

"So, what can I get you?" She asked with a grin. This customer was cuter than most of the guys who came in here. It wasn't exactly a cheap place, but the zoning sucked. It was right off the docks and only the bravest of the brave would consider stopping in for a drink. Her smile became brighter when the man lowered his glasses and peeked over the rims. He had such mesmerizing eyes.

"I'll have a bourbon." Penn placed his glasses back on the bridge of his nose and grinned. The girl was already in love. Girls were so easy.

The girl walked over to the bar and gave the bartender his order. He watched her lean over the counter and smiled. She really should try to be less obvious, he thought to himself. You never knew when you were meeting up with the devil, after all.

The girl hurried back to Penn's side, drink in hand. "Here you are, sir."

"Thank you." He took the drink and sipped at it. "Go ahead and draw up my bill." Penn smiled at the girl's disappointment. He had a fan and he like the feeling it brought on. He watched he make her way to the cash register and sipped his drink, all the while. It tasted like Angel smelled: bittersweet, familiar. It was rich and velvety, while it burned like an ember. It was perfection. He sighed happily.

Everything was going to plan. He was getting into Angel's head and soon he could finish what he started. He could pull together their family, while ripping it to pieces. A paradox, he knew, but it was the most logical way to go about this. He wasn't like Spike. Spike was a creature of spite and love rolled into one. He always had been. Penn was a creature of habit and revenge.

Penn knew that the loss of Dru would be hard for Angel in a wounded-pride sort of way. Penn had destroyed something Angel had created. It wasn't a wound, so much as an insult, he decided. Spike, on the other hand, would hurt over it. Dru had been his princess; she had been his lover for over one hundred and twenty years, and now she was gone.

Penn stood and laid down his empty glass. He made his way over to the bar and waited for a greeting by his waitress. She had a bill in her hand and a smile on her face. "I'll be getting off of work in ten minutes." She gave him a candid little smile and shuffled her feet.

He handed her a bill and smiled back. "Keep the change, princess." Penn turned and walked away from the sweet smiling waitress. He walked away from her suffocating perfume and her irritating naiveté. It took him two seconds to decide that the girl had to die. As trusting as she was, she'd probably ended up dying soon, anyway.

He stopped outside the front door and looked around. The sky was a deep violet color, the sea reflected in the clouds. The air was thick with the smell of fish and sweat. Penn took in everything about the docks. The men loading and unloading ships, strong muscle and sinew rippling beneath the bare skin of their torsos. Others were setting up booths that would open in the early morning, so that they could sell their catch. He could practically hear the blood rush through their systems. Strong men with strong blood.

"I didn't think you would wait for me." The voice was soft and sweet.

"I didn't mean to. I got caught up in the moment." Penn turned a teasing glance to the young woman. She had changed into a pair of khaki slacks and a black sleeveless turtleneck. Too late, young lady, he thought, I've come to suck your blood. He grinned at her and offered her his arm. "My name is Penn."

"Really? I'm Pamela." She giggled like a little girl and sighed. "Two P's." They walked down the nearest alley and toward the main road.

"Yes." He agreed. "Two 'P's' in a pod, really." He looked down at the girl and frowned. She was *too* easy. He almost thought about letting her go. She was a child... but when did that pose a problem? "Where do you live? I'll walk you home."

The girl shook her head. "I want to go dancing. Do you dance?"

Penn grinned. "I wasn't allowed to as a child and I never really took time to learn. I can sway, though. Will that do?"

She nodded. "That'll work. I'm sure that you look better swaying than most guys look dancing. I would like to sway with you." Her grip tightened on Penn's arm and she shivered. "It's cold."

The girl was making it too easy for him. He reached around her and turned her, so that her back faced the brick wall. He pressed her up to it and leaned in to sniff her neck. "You smell sweet. Would you like me to warm you up?"

She giggled and pressed his head closer to her neck. " Please, do."

Penn took the chance to lean in and lap at her the skin that lay over her pulse. She sighed and slumped in his arms. He bit in, pulling a gasp out of the young woman. She went rigid and gripped at his shoulders. He petted her hair and purred as he took in slow droughts of her blood. She tasted like chocolate covered pennies, sweet and coppery. He lapped at the puncture wounds on her neck and smiled over the humming in his veins. She was dead, limp and lifeless. "I'm sorry, my dear. I seem to have made you even colder." Penn picked the girl up and cradled her to his chest. "But I do have to say, you swayed wonderfully."

Penn held the girl close and carried her to the main road. He pretended that it was giving him some trouble and stumbled out the curb. He propped her against a wall and called down a taxi. After getting her into the cab, he pushed the hair that had fallen out of her ponytail behind her ear.

"Got a stiff, huh? She pass out before your night on the town was through?" The cabbie grinned back at him and he couldn't help return the smile. "I get lots of people in that condition that come through here. So, where to?"

Penn thought a moment and shrugged. "I guess I should drop her off at home. Do you know where the Hyperion Hotel is?"

The cabby nodded and put the car into gear. "I'll have you there in a jiffy."

"Thank you." Penn said, as he settled back into his seat and enjoyed the ride.

~Part: 10~ I Sing the Body Electric

"No. I'm sorry, Spike, but I don't think John Cleese is qualified to be the President of the United States." Angel grinned at his childe, who was excitedly talking about his ideas to save the U.S. by employing old English comedians to do the jobs of the nation's politicians.

"Yes, that may be so, Angel, but think logically. Were the last three Presidents qualified for the job? No, but they still did it. So, if we are going to have an unqualified man in office, he might as well be an interesting public speaker. That way we will feel compelled to watch those 'special bulletins from the White House', instead of throwing empty beer bottles at the television and busting up the screen." Spike took a gulp of his beer and sighed. "The beer tastes like piss and yet... I don't care."

"That happens when you you've been made a target." Angel frowned. He hated that Spike was in trouble. He hated that his family was in trouble. He hated having to send Connor away. He hated sending Skittles away. He hated that Penn was alive and he hated that he had died in the first place. Why was life so difficult, even after death?

"Come on, Sire. Be serious. I've been a target since I was fourteen years old. I hadn't grown into my hands or feet; my arms were too long, my cheeks too sharp, and I wrote bloody awful poetry. You think of Penn as a big evil. I think of him as a big bully." Spike shrugged. "I've had my share of bullies, ta. I'm not gonna let Penn get me scared, just 'cause he wants to upset you. That would feed his ego a little more than is to my liking."

"I hate that you were picked on, as a human. It makes me wish that we had spent more time killing those maggots when I had the chance." Angel slumped into his chair.

"Angel!" Spike grinned. "Bad vampire, no blood!"

Angel shrugged. " I don't have to feel guilty over their souls, do I? Most of them died from old age or disease, anyway. The others..."

"Got spikes through their skulls." Spike stared at the ceiling. "I'm supposed to carry the guilt over 'em."

"Try not to. You'll lose your sense of humor." Angel watched Spike lean his head back further, and smiled. "You should watch out who you bare your neck to. You might get bit."

"I'm going to invent vampire repellent: a little mixture of garlic and holy water. If I add Colloidal Silver it could get rid of the werewolves, too." Spike looked up at his Sire with a grin. "Do you think I could patent it?"

"Maybe." Angel grinned. "But you couldn't wear it. The holy water would make you sizzle and the garlic would make you susceptible to attack by any Italian woman worth her salt."

Spike scoffed. "You aren't very good at making jokes, I hope you know."

"Who's joking?" Angel smiled, as Spike made a show of rolling his eyes and waving an arm at his Sire. "I've tasted Italian women. I know."

"You know nothing. Italian women don't taste like garlic. They taste like... basil. So good." Spike smiled. "I like Southern girls. They have cute accents and they taste like sweet potatoes."

"No." Angel disagreed. "Spanish girls are best. They're spicy and sweet."

"We're sick, you know?" Spike stated, with a sigh. "Cordelia would beat your ass, if she heard you talking like that."

"Oh, and she wouldn't beat yours?" Angel asked, as he got out of his seat and turned off the TV, which had turned blue and started buzzing.

"No. She expects this sort of talk out of me. Not you, though. You seem to have sunk to my level." Spike grinned proudly.

Angel shook his head. Spike looked like he had just won the lottery and it was being paid in cigarettes. "To tell the truth, I've always been on this level. I just talk more when you're around."

"So I'm a good influence on you? I'm sure--" Spike started, but was interrupted by a knock at the door. "Who is it?!" Spike huffed. He hated being interrupted.

"It's Gunn. Is it safe to come in there?"

"Yeah. Wait a sec." Spike got up from his seat and went over to the door, so he could unlock it for Gunn. "Come in," he said as he made his way back to his seat.

"Is there a reason that you two are hiding out in here with the door locked?" Gunn asked from his place in the doorway. "Cause if you two are busy I could leave and come back later. I'd hate to be interrupting something."

"No, you're only busting up a reminiscing session." Spike gave the young man a fake smile. "Have a seat. Take a chair."

Gunn walked in and took a look around. He rarely came into Angel's room, but he knew that the vampire usually kept it really clean. At the moment, tapes were spread out on the ground in front of the television and beer cans were scattered around the waste paper basket, as if someone had been shooting them at the can and missed. "'Reminiscing session' mean party in vampire?"

"What are you doing here? I thought you had taken a sabbatical." Spike looked the man up and down. If it was possible, he seemed to be even more cocky looking than the last time he saw him. "Did you some good," he said, with a grin.

"Yeah, I feel rested. I knew that you and Angel could hold down the fort." Gunn grinned at Spike and shrugged. "I got some free time and now I'm ready for action."

"Seems that you got plenty of that while you were away. You smell like women's perfume and... lightning. Does that make sense?" Spike spared Angel a glance and caught a knowing look on his face. He figured he would just let it slide and ask his Sire about it later. "Never mind. I probably don't want to know."

"Hey, I've been waiting in the car for a while and I don't feel like I'm getting any closer to an ice cream." Fred walked into the room, while untangling a strand of her hair from her overall strap. She looked up and saw Spike, Angel, and Gunn all staring at her. "What?"

Spike leaned his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his fists. "You are precious." Without knowing it, Spike had inadvertently spoke the thought of the other two men in the room.

"I'm not precious." Fred blushed and looked everywhere but at Spike. "I'm a goof-ball. I have a hard time keeping my bra straps straight." Fred looked up, horrified. "I didn't mean to say that."

"Don't fret, poppet." Spike shrugged. "We all say things we don't mean to say." Spike could see that Fred was still embarrassed, so he changed the subject. "So, how's the princess doing? She feeling any better?" Spike smiled at Fred, as she nibbled at her nails nervously. She *was* a precious girl. He wished that she could be around more, but she seemed dedicated to taking care of Cordelia until her strength was back one hundred percent.

"Yeah, she's feeling lots better. You know, her strength is coming back more and more every day. She's still kinda weirded out by the whole you and Spike thing, though." Fred nodded and shrugged. "She says that she can't get over the fact that you two can get over what's between you."

"What's between us?" Angel asked, interested.

Spike quirked a brow and grinned at the flustered girl. His Sire was anything but tactful.

"I... I... I don't... She said that... I'm not sure." Fred sighed and looked over at Spike. The blond vampire kept looking at her like she was a puppy or something. She felt like he might reach out and pet her at any moment and she wasn't sure she hated the idea as much as she should. "You're his childe."

"Yeah, pet." Spike grinned and leaned forward a little in his seat. "I'm his childe."

Fred took a breath and let it out slowly. Wow, Spike's eyes were blue. "Do you have to obey him?"

"No." "Yes." Spike and Angel seemed to have different opinions, which pulled an amused laugh out of Gunn, who was leaning against the wall rather quietly.

"No." Spike tried to clear up the misunderstanding, while sending his Sire a scowl.

"He's supposed to." Angel interpreted his answer. "Doesn't mean he does."

"Don't sound so pouty, Sir Mopes-a-lot. It's not like I ever did obey you." Spike looked up at his Sire and caught the grin that was spreading across his features. "Now, stop with the smug look. I only obeyed you when it was good for me and you know it."

"Uh-huh." Angel's grin grew wide.

"She said that you tried to kill Angel." Fred looked down at her feet, so that she wouldn't have to look Spike in the eyes.

"He did." Angel agreed.

"Never did!" Spike was aghast. He had done no such thing. "Yeah, I was pissed. I had you tortured, sure-- but never did I try to kill you. If I had, you would be dead," Spike confided in his Sire.

"Uh-huh." Angel laughed when Spike stuck his tongue out at him and turned away.

"Stupid pouf. Soddin' humorin' wanker. Nasty bad stupid dumb gaffer..." Spike mumbled under his breath. "See, cupcake, I had him stabbed to little pieces with hot pokers, 'cause he stole something that belonged to me. Seems he threw it away, too. Stupid." He hissed the last word under his breath.

Angel ignored the insults Spike muttered. He knew that he probably shouldn't comment where the Ring of Amara was concerned. He hadn't stolen it, but he had thrown it away and sometimes he felt as stupid over that as Spike seemed to think he was.

Fred didn't know what to say. Cordelia told her about the Spike she remembered: a soulless killer, with a crazy vampire girlfriend. It also seemed that both were sired by Angelus, Angel's evil counterpart. Things were so confusing here, at Angel Investigations. Sometimes she wondered why she hadn't gone back to Texas with her parents, when she had the chance. Then, she would look at Angel with his kind eyes and warm smile --okay, frown -- and she would remember the feelings she had carried for her hero. Then, there was Gunn. She sighed mentally and looked up to find Spike staring at her, worriedly. "What?"

"Are you okay? You seemed to be somewhere else just now." Spike's concern was written across his brows and reached toward his mouth. He hated to see little women worrying over things. He hated it when Dru would worry, albeit she was worried that elves would steal her hairbrushes and build a metropolis out of 'em. He hated it when Dawn would worry about her sister and vice versa.

"Yeah, well, I was just thinking about things. I have trouble concentrating on things not Science related." Fred bounced her head side to side and sighed. [Egad!] "I would probably pay better attention to you if you were reading out of a Biology book, or something."

"You're a lil' bit crazy, aren't cha'?"

Fred grinned at the vampire and nodded. "A little."

Gunn took the two in and narrowed his gaze. "Maybe we should get back to Cordelia. Connor can't keep her busy for long, without the two of them going silent. The kitten helps, but not..."

"ANGEL!"

Angel and Spike jumped up from their seats and headed toward the door, with Gunn and Fred on their heels. They reached the staircase and looked down at Lorne who stood in the lobby.

"You might want to come down here, Sugar. You too, Spike." If it was possible, Lorne looked even greener than usual. He saw Fred and Gunn walk into veiw and smiled weakly. "You may want to stay back with Gunn, Freddie-pie."

Fred took Lorne's advice and stood behind Gunn. She knew better than to rush into anything around here.

Gunn was about to die. He wanted to be down there, in the middle of the action. What was down there that was so interesting, anyway?

Spike got downstairs first, and grimaced. "Dear God."

"Penn." Angel exhaled a breath he didn't know he was holding. He walked over to the couch and looked down at the girl lying on her side. She had crosses carved all over her face and arms and her belly was cut open, entrails missing.

"Deja vu." Spike looked over at Wesley, who was leaning against the couchs back, watching the lifeless girl. "You find her?"

Wesley looked up at Spike and nodded. "She was leaned against the door. I thought she was drunk, but I was wrong."

"Holy sh... Damn!" Gunn groaned from behind the group of men. "She's dead, right?"

"Oh, my... oh my, God." Fred gasped and grabbed onto the closest 'person' before she could swoon. It just happened to be Spike.

Spike ignored the young woman as he watched his Sire lift the young woman's hair and gaze at the scar on her neck. "So, what does this mean? You know, other than Penn is in town?"

Angel thought for a moment and smiled, grimly. "It means that we better get ready." Angel dropped the girl's hair and shook his head. "Seems that we have a family feud on our hands."

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