Underworld

Author: Jennie

Disclaimer: All stuff BtVS and A:ts belong to joss and co. I'm not making any money from this so don't bother suing me.

Rating: R/Mature

Spoilers: None

Distribution: My site (http://lost.3rror.com) anywhere else, take it, just tell me where.

Pairing: S/A

Dedication: To Myst, Jinx and Mazza, thank you for all your help and encouragement I never would have had the courage to do this without you.

Feedback: Oh god please... I love the stuff, it only serves to improve my writing and thats good for everyone, right?

Summery: AU/AR The Price of perfection was far too high, and now it's time for payback.

Author's Note: If you noticed that this fic has themes that are vaguely familiar, then you'd be right. This fic is inspired by Films and Stories like The Matrix, Gattaca & Blade Runner. Dystopia anyone?

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

~Part: 1~

The roar of the engines was constant, even the upper worlders could hear it, but to them it was as distant and ignorable as the wind though the buildings. To those in the underworld, it was like a being surrounded by thousands of screaming jungle cats, twenty four hours a day. But that was just one of the costs of the new world, of the world so perfect, shiny and sparkling that it put even the most spectacular of twentieth century utopian visions to shame.

Three hundred years had past since the world had heaved and the walls between dimensions had crumbled. Three hundred years since humanity had struggled to keep the upper hand in a dimension they had such a fragile grasp on to start with. But humanity had survived as it often did, and from the ashes of their civilisation they built a new world, a world free of anomalies, abnormalities, differences, or diversity. A world of the genetically pure, morally absolute and physically perfect.

Or so they thought.

~~~*~~~

The park was filled with people. The children's play area was packed with families, the children dressed in brightly coloured clothes that almost glowed in the bright afternoon sun. Rich emerald green grass stretched out and disappeared into a thick line of trees that partially obscured the towering city of Los Angeles from view.

"I wonna go higher!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

Angelus Keeley laughed loudly and pushed his daughter higher on the swing, flicking his eyes over to where his wife sat watching them play. She winked and smirked at him, and he grinned back. His Daughter's squeals of delight brought his focus back to the task at hand and sighed in contentment.

Life was perfect, he loved his job, he loved his home, and most of all he loved Darla and Emily, his wife and 6 year old daughter. He was twenty six years old, and nothing could be better than what he had. Sure he and Darla starting their family so early had raised a few eyebrows, but in the end it hadn't really mattered.

Emily called out for him to stop pushing, and he happily obliged, coming around the front of the swing to help her down. As soon as her tiny dolly shoe covered feet hit the soft grass she raised her arms to be picked up, and with a chuckle at his daughter's predictability he hoisted the small child up into his arms. Angel took a moment to just look at the sweet face now so close to his own, big blue eyes like her mother's, and dark hair like his drifting down past her waist and held away from her face with a pink Alice band.

"What do you want to do now?"

Emily bit her bottom lip, her eyes smiling. "Round about?"

"But you've already been on the round about." Angel reasoned, although he'd gladly push her on the round about again if that's what she wanted. He may love his job, but he worked six days a week and this one day off he had he liked to spend as much as possible with Emily. When she was older, and could stay up later, it would be better, that way he could see her after work too; but until then he made up for it on Sunday's and their regular family trips to the park.

Emily scrunched her face up in thought and looked around the play area from her high perch. Angel grinned at her expression but then his face crumpled into a frown.  His forehead was itching, had been for the last couple of days, last night the itching had spread to his eyes, and now his nose had suddenly come under the same assault.  Shaking his head he strode over to where Darla was sat.

"Something wrong Angelus?" Darla asked in concern, it wasn't like him to stop playing with Emily until they literally had to leave either because Emily was asleep on her feet or the park was closing.

"I uh. I'm not feeling too. I think there's. can we go?" Angel managed to stumble out. His jaw was suddenly aching and his teeth felt prickly. He felt dizzy, nauseous; his vision was swimming in and out of focus.

"Sure," Darla said worriedly. "Give me the keys, I'll drive."

Instead of giving her the key, Angel just locked his eyes on her and said quietly but clearly. "Take the baby" before his whole body went lax and he hit the floor with a dull thud.

~~~*~~~

"It's my husband. he. we were in the park and his he just. he changed. I don't think he's human." Pause, "We. we have a daughter." pause, "I understand. yes. yes. for all our safety I know."

"Darla, what are you doing?" Angel leaned on the door frame to their bedroom, a frown creasing his face as Darla yelped and spun round guiltily, dropping the phone in the process.

"Nothing that concerns you Angelus," She returned, straining to appear innocent. "How are you? Feeling any better?"

Angel unconsciously rubbed the sore spot on his arm where he'd had a blood sample taken. The doctors at the hospital hadn't found anything wrong, suggested he get some sleep, and if it happened again to come back. The itching and tension in his face had all but gone, and he was oddly hungry, but apart from that he felt fine. He would feel better though if his wife wasn't as jittery as a cat on a hot tin roof though.

Darla suddenly darted forward to get past him. Confused by her actions Angel reached out to stop her and that was when his world exploded. The windows blew inwards and glass flew in every direction.

"DEMON!" Darla suddenly shrieked and Angel's eyes widened in horror as Darla fought to escape his grip. "HELP ME! DEMON!"

"What.?" Angel gasped as soldiers began to pile into the room. The soldier pulled him away from Darla and man handled him to the floor, pinning his arms behind his back.

"There's been some kind of mistake." He tried to reason. When no one listened he turned his gaze pleadingly to his wife, who looked back with a cold mixture of disgust and revulsion "Darla. baby. tell them I'm not a demon. baby please..."

The soldiers ignored him, and one turned to Darla. "Ma'am, you mentioned a daughter?"

For the first time, Darla looked like she was having second thoughts about her actions and looked back to Angel who was struggling under the weight of two soldiers. He lifted his eyes to hers pleadingly. 'I don't care what happens to me, don't let them take my baby.'

"Across the hall," Darla said her eyes going cold again. She delved into her pocket and handed the man a key. "I locked her in earlier."

"NO!" Angel cried out, and then his world went black as a baton connected with the back of his head.

~~~*~~~

Time sped up and slowed down randomly. Pain became a constant companion with fear its trusty sidekick. His only solace was the child who clung to him in desperation. 'We're not monsters' they'd said, and the sincerity with which they said it almost made him believe it, but then that was tempered by the fact they had just brought Emily back into the room screaming in agony.

Genetic Training they called it. He called it torture. They said it was for the good of humanity, but they also said he wasn't part of that anymore. A taint, they'd found a taint in his blood, a taint that had manifested itself that day in the park, and his face had rippled into a demonic visage before he passed out. Darla had been the only one to see it, but Darla was a model citizen and therefore had to do what they instructed good citizens to do if they spotted a demon, she called the authorities.

Angel rolled over on the hard concrete floor of his cell as he battled with alien emotions. Betrayal, that was what he was feeling, Darla had betrayed him, had betrayed Emily. But that couldn't be right, Darla had done the right thing, he couldn't expect her to break the law for him. But by god he wished she had. It was all so confusing, this wasn't the world he knew, there was no real pain or anger or betrayal, there were no secret armies that captured innocent people, pulled them from their homes and subjected them to.

His mind stuttered and stopped as tears leaked unbidden from his eyes. It hurt so much.  Test after test after test, blood transfusions, genetic re-sequencing, physical threshold tests, and the hunger. The hunger that was never sated, no matter how much they gave him to eat, the hunger that made his bones burn and his gut twist.

Angrily, he swiped his hand over his face and winced at the small movement. He knew he shouldn't be mad at them, they were trying to help him, they were trying to make him pure again so he could go home. Demons were dangerous, evil and had to be eradicated. Genetic taints had to rooted out, be they demonic or not. All of the evil that had caused the Great War three hundred years ago was down to the taints that had riddled humanity, everybody knew that. It was the basis of their civilization, the fundamental law at their core of their existence. The progress in genetic manipulation was the reason they had the world they had now, beautiful, calm, safe and. perfect.

"Daddy?"

Angel painfully rolled on his side to look over at his daughter. Part of him hoped she either got better soon or they killed her, he couldn't bare to watch her in pain much longer.

"Hey little one"

"Daddy I can't see." Emily whispered, her voice filled with tears and fear. Angel crawled slowly to where she lay and pulled her into his lap, holding her tightly.

"Shhh baby girl, I got you. shhh. just a little longer and then we can go home ands see mommy ok? Just a little longer baby girl. hold on for me." he trailed off into a whisper, unable to lie to her, unable to lie to himself. He had no idea when they were going home. Curling round the tiny child, a soft purr rising unbidden and unnoticed from his chest, Angel let sleep take him.

~~~*~~~

It was the smell that woke him, acrid and sharp in his nose. He sniffed, looking around, confused, disorientated and bewildered. Where was it coming from? Emily shifted sleepily in his arms but didn't wake.

Another sniff and now he felt dizzy. Something floated in front of his vision and he looked up. Yellow smoke curled lazily from vents in ceiling. Smoke? His lungs felt tight and smoke was coming closer. Not smoke, gas. No. They wouldn't. They were helping them get better; they were making them pure again. Maybe this was treatment? The why was every instinct in him screaming for an escape? No. No, no, no! Not after all the pain and fear and humiliation and tests, and just no! They couldn't do this to them, they couldn't. He was a citizen, he paid his taxes, he voted, he gave blood, he brushed his teeth, he never even shouted, they couldn't do this to him, they couldn't just.

A growl started in his chest and rose until trickled past his lips. Startled, Angel blinked at the sound. Then realising just how good it felt to let it out he did it again, loud and feral, expressing the fear and betrayal and anger that was coursing through his blood. The room became foggy and coherent though was became harder pin down. Tucking Emily close to his chest he pulled back into corner, trying desperately to avoid the noxious fumes. He shook his head, trying to think clearly, not quite managing it.

As his eyelids drooped and his body began to disobey him, a single tear coursed down his cheek as he realised that Emily wasn't breathing.

The next time his eyes opened he was looking at the ceiling, the ceiling that was moving. He felt sick, his eyes wouldn't really focus, and his legs felt like they were raised up high. He tried to look up but he wasn't strong enough and his head flopped back on the floor with an audible crack. He did however notice that his legs were high because someone had hold of them, and the ceiling was moving because he was being dragged along the floor.

"Shit! We've got a live one!"

Who was that? A live one what?

"Calm down, he won't be for long."

Who? Where they talking about him? Where was Emily?

"You sure?"

"Shut up doofus and help me drag him, we have six more to do before lunch and I don't fancy being stuck with the stiffs for that long."

"Why did the cart have to break down today?"

"Quit whining, damn, all you ever do is whine and moan, whine and moan"

The voices trailed off into incoherency again and Angel floated, confused, nauseous and sleepy.

Time had no meaning so he couldn't say how long he was being dragged for, and then they stopped. The clatter of mental on metal, the sharp squeal of a hinge, another clatter and then a splash. He was moving again, and then he wasn't moving, he was falling, air rushing past his face, cooling his feverish brow. He hit the water below so relaxed he hardly felt it, time slowed completely and he was caught in a perfect moment of clarity. He was dead now, well not yet but very soon. They had gassed him and dropped him into water where if he hadn't died of the gas itself he would drown. A soft smile swept across his features. Emily had gone more peacefully than this, she hadn't been awake for the gas, and if the other splash was any indication her grave was a watery one, close to where his would be too.

The world was not as he had known it, it was built on an edifice of lies, but what those lies were he didn't know nor did he care to find out. A woman he loved had betrayed him to a government he trusted who then murdered him. No the world was far from how he had known it, but it didn't matter, he was sinking, and he would join Emily. He was sinking, he was sinking deeper and he was.

.Caught in something! Time sped up, harsh nylon dug into his back, water drained off his face and body, his lungs burned and heaved. Voices yelled and colours blurred. Everything was moving far too fast for him to follow, and it was all so frantic in comparison to the peaceful sinking of mere seconds before.

"We Need re-sus over here!!"

Voices off to the side, so far away.

"Dammit breathe!"

'Do I have to? I want to be with Emily.'

A tightening in his lungs, burning, and pressure. Air being forced in but there was something that had to come out first. But how? Oh! he had to.

Angel coughed hard, water forcing its way up from his lungs. His coughing fit seemed to go on forever. When it finally calmed he opened his eyes blearily and looked up into the most stunning pair of blue eyes he'd ever seen.

"Evenin' pet, Welcome to Underworld."

~Part: 2~

No one in Underworld knew William Lawson-Thomas. The shy boy from London had died long ago. But if someone were to know where to look, and looked hard enough, they might find glimpses of him in one of the best known faces of ULA. Under Los Angeles was the home of the Underworld resistance, and Spike was their best pilot.

The route to and from the drop hole under the GRC and ULA was as familiar to him now as his own reflection. Fifteen hundred miles north of Los Angeles, the Genetic Retraining Centre was the Upperworld's worst kept secret, at least in Underworld; very few of those who found themselves exiled below, claimed to know of its existence before they got there. But the resistance had been infiltrating the centre for almost a hundred years, and Spike had been familiar with it for nearly six.

Gazing out of the small window in his cabin at the never ending darkness, his heavy boots propped up on the table in front of him; Spike took a long drag of his cigarette. He hated this type of mission, well at least this part of it. The breaking and entering parts were fun, as was the part where they had to do it carrying great big canisters of replacement gas for the monthly executions. Hell even the bit where they strung nets across the pool under the drop hole, to catch the poor sods that had just been gassed within an inch of their lives, was worth a giggle now and then. But when all the excitement had passed and they'd dragged the poor bastards out of the water, that was when things stopped being so enjoyable.

The first time he'd come on one of these missions, aged just 19, he'd lost his lunch all over one of the people they'd just rescued. Now he was so used to the stench of pain and sight of mutilated flesh that he found the whole thing boring. The anticlimactic end to an exciting game of cat and mouse. A game where the cat didn't even know that the mouse existed, but could kill said mouse in numerous painful ways if it did.

He knew that was a really shallow and cold way of viewing the suffering that he was supposedly helping to alleviate, but like most of the people in Underworld, he'd been hardened. To his mind, there was no room for softness in a world of eternal night.

Now he leaned back in his chair and waited, his elbow propped on the intercom button so he could keep tabs on what was going on, and lighting a new cigarette with each loss announced from the medi-bay.

~~~*~~~

Consciousness returned in fits and starts. Every time his foggy mind would come close to surfacing through the woolly haze he was trapped in, fatigue would drag him back under. But he was too tired, in too much pain, when he conscious enough to feel it, to care.

He didn't want to wake up anyway. Despite the fuzzy nature of his thinking ability, some part of him knew that to wake up, was to enter a world he wouldn't like. Something told him that this world would be filled with bitter loneliness. But in sleep he wasn't alone, bright blue eyes watched over him as he played with Emily in the park through an eternity of Sundays. Even his parents, five years dead, were there. But not waking was beyond his control.

Warm fingers on his arm and the sharp sting of a needle dragged him closer to the surface, close enough to hear a repetitive beeping and the buzzing and whirring of machines. Fear jarred through him at the feeling of metal in skin, and his eyes snapped open, his body tensing ready for flight.

"Whoa there. easy" The voice was soft, carefully quiet and reassuring. Angel flicked his eyes up to the source, and glared suspiciously at the red haired woman leaning over him. "I'm just replacing your IV ok? You knocked it out moving around."

That made Angel glare even harder, he couldn't remember moving around, hell the last thing he did remember was.

*itching. aching. black. Darla. soldiers. Emily. white coats. shiny metal. pain. humiliation. fear. Emily in pain. crying. gas. falling. water. blue eyes*

Angel chocked on a sob as the last few weeks slammed into him, the memory of his daughter's death in his arms, bringing him close to complete mental breakdown. Grief stricken and ashamed at breaking down in front of this strange woman, Angel turned his head away and gasped wetly.

He blinked rapidly, trying to make sure that his eyes weren't playing tricks. But each time his eyes reopened the visage remained. On the bed next to his, her features tinged slightly blue, her eyes swollen and irritated looking, her exposed arms lined with needle sized bruises, but most importantly of all, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm, was Emily. To Angel, she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

He wanted to get up, to walk over to his daughter's beside and grab her to him. But his body rebelled and it took all the strength he could muster just to reach out vainly, his arm far too short to bridge the gap between the two beds. An animalistic whimper of desperate need escaped him and he found his hand clasped by the smaller one of the redhead.

"You know her?" She asked, restoring the IV line that he'd knocked loose once again.

Without taking his eyes off his precious child, Angel finally found his voice. His words came out as barely whisper, his voice hoarse like he'd been shouting and the words grating his throat like they were made of shards of glass. "My daughter."

The redhead smiled, even though she knew he wasn't looking. "She's a very brave little girl, and strong too."

Angel looked up at her then and swallowed stiffly. "How? She. she was dead. I was holding her."

"When you're strong enough we'll explain everything, ok?" she said giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

Angel instantly stiffened, remembering once more that he did not know this person, nor did he know where he was or why was there. He wanted to ask so many questions but at the same time he felt himself slipping back into the foggy world he'd only just emerged from. His head felt heavy, his eyelids drooping. The hand holding his squeezed again and he looked up. He wanted to trust this woman, wanted so much to fall into the sleep that was creeping up on him, safe in the knowledge that he was among friends, that Emily was among friends.

He opened his mouth to speak but only succeeded in releasing a loud yawn. That was worrying. He wasn't a big sleeper by nature, so why couldn't he resist the pull now? Then it clicked, Angel let his sleepy eyes drop to the IV in his arm, and then with great effort, dragged them up to the face of the redhead. The last thing he was aware of as the room dimmed was the sheepish expression on her face and her muttered "busted".

~~~*~~~

He watched from the shadows, the lights had been dimmed in deference to the sleeping patients. He'd waited in his cabin until the death count had reached six, then almost against his will, he'd found himself on route to the medical bay. It was just idle curiosity, he wasn't really interested. He just wanted to know if his guy had pulled through or not. And it was just a nicotine craving that was making him bite his lip as he watched the sleeping man in the bed. It defiantly had nothing to do with the dark eyes that had looked up at him filled with confused innocence, or the way his lips had looked swollen from the CPR.

Spike snorted to himself. Sure the guy in the bed was gorgeous, but so were half the guys in underworld, especially the ones that hung out at the same bars as he did. Nothing special, and it wasn't caring either, hell not even pity. No he was just horny, they'd been on this mission for over a week now and he wanted to get laid. So he was going to turn around, head up to the flight deck, and wind somebody up before he died of boredom.

"You ok Spike?"

"Gahh!! Freakin' bloody. do you always sneak up on people, or is it just me?" Spike snarked at the redhead who had emerged from the small scrubs room just off to the side of the medical bay.

"Only you spike, I deliberately hid in the scrub room just in case you happened to come by and I could scare you." The red head replied pointedly with a raised eyebrow.

"Hilarious," Spike snorted then narrowed his eyes. "And anyway, why are you so chipper? I thought you'd be boo hoo-ing on witchy pooh's shoulder over all the stiffs in 'ere."

The redhead face turned thunderous, and Spike instinctively took a step back, much to his own annoyance. Rolling his eyes he put his hands up in a pacifying gesture.

"You're an asshole, Spike."

"Willow!" Spike mock exclaimed. "Where ever did you learn such language?"

Willow just glared and turned away from him, slipping off her white doctor's coat to reveal her tank top and jeans, and she scratched at her exposed shoulder as she studied the charts laid out on her desk.

"Do you need something here?" She asked after a moment of tense silence between the two. "Or did you just stop by to express your complete distain for all forms of life?"

"Meow" Spike muttered under his breath then strolled over to sit on the edge of her desk. "Actually, there is a reason I'm 'ere, other than to admire your earth shattering beauty of course."

"Spike," Willow said tiredly, putting her pen down carefully. "I'm tired. I've just had to watch six people die because there was nothing I could do to save them. I haven't slept in four days, my girlfriend almost put herself in coma, I need a shower, I need food, one of my patients keeps unhooking his own IV in his sleep, the other is a small girl who hasn't woken up yet and I don't know if I want her to because who knows what she's been through and." She trailed off out of air. Fisting her hair in both hands she bent her head down and took a couple of deep breaths before looking back up at the bleach blonde. "Not today ok? I don't need your complete lack of feeling, or your pointless flirting today. I like women, you like men, ergo flirting is about as constructive as a Jell-O house."

"Right then," Spike said after a beat, "Down to business, we need to make a move, need to know if you still need the power cells for the ICU's or can we get the engines back online?"

Willow let out a breath, Spike talking business was something she could handle. He was notoriously focussed when it came to his ship. "I can give you half, but I still need one unit for the girl, and the monitors for Mr Fidget."

Spike nodded, a smile quirking the corner of his mouth at her small joke. It meant he was forgiven, which considering that Willow was a pretty powerful witch, was a very good thing. The red head was one of the only people he would admit to being just a little intimidated by, but then only under extreme duress.

"Half speed it is. Let me know when I can have all of it. Don't fancy hangin' out in no mans land for long." Spike replied with another thoughtful nod, his brow drawn together in concentration. He cast another look at the sleeping man, shook his head at himself and turned to leave, only to have Willow's voice call him back.

"His name's Angelus Keeley, he's twenty six and he's not quite human."

Spike turned and lifted an eyebrow in question. "You trying to hook me up pet?"

Willow shook her head sadly. "I saw you looking so I thought I'd warn you. The girl in the bed next to him is his daughter, he's married and he's an Upperworlder. I don't fancy your chances. The only thing he's likely to have bent at the waist for is to tie his shoes."

Spike let out a bark of laughter and turned to leave again, but as soon as he was facing away from her, his face collapsed into a hard scowl. She was right, and that just pissed him off.

~Part: 3~

"Mr Keeley, Please Calm down."

His vision was a sea of red, he felt like he could see tiny rivers pulsing under the skin of the two people in front of him; enticing him, making him angrier, making him hungrier. The wild gnawing hunger had returned with a vengeance, but it was almost superseded by the rage that was coursing through his veins.

It seemed like so much longer, but it had only been ten minutes since Angel had jolted awake. When he'd slipped into sleep with the help of the sedative the redhead had given him, anger and fear had swelled inside him at her actions. Those turbulent emotions, fuelled by unsettled dreams, had fermented into the blinding rage that now consumed him.  Waking had propelled him from the bed, instinctively trying to guard himself against the threat he had perceived before being claimed by darkness. He was running on pure instinct, the sedative still too active in his blood stream to allow his conscious mind to counter his hidden nature. His thoughts contained only basic imperatives; escape the threat, protect the offspring, and feed.

He was a wild animal, cornered, frightened, angry and desperately protective of the child that lay unconscious on the bed behind him. The two people were saying things, but the words didn't make sense in his head. He recognised the redhead, she was the one who'd. she'd done something that made him angry. The other, a tall man with a long scar running down his forehead, under an eye patch over his left eye and down his left cheek, was new.

"Well it appears his entire demonic heritage has manifested." The man stated matter-of-factly, completely at odds to the tense situation.

"Oh yeah. Tranquilizers maybe?" The red head shot back, the fear in her voice equal to the fear Angel could pick up on her scent.

"A last resort" the man replied, never looking away from Angel, who swung his head from side to side as they spoke. "Perhaps he's hungry? Have you been giving him a supplemented diet?"

"I didn't know what to give him!" The redhead yelped in exasperation. The man swung around and gaped at her incredulously making the redhead scowl back indignantly. "I'm a witch, not a demon expert! That's what you're here for!"

"Bloody marvellous," the man muttered then barked orders at the young woman. "Protein, vitamin D, glucose and Iron! In a tranquilizer dart and quickly!"

Angel panted harshly as he watched the redhead scurry away. He tried to watch both, but couldn't and focussed on the nearer threat. The man was still eyeballing him, and he hissed, backing away further. When the redhead returned with what he recognised as some kind of weapon the room exploded into activity.

"NOW WILLOW!"

"What the bloody...?"

Three things happened at the exact same moment. Having noticed the increased threat, Angel went from defensive to aggressive in a last ditch effort to remove the threat to him and his child. The man having noticed the shift, ordered Willow to fire the tranquilizer gun full of the concoction he'd ordered, just at the moment Angel leapt forward. And from the door way, Spike, who Willow had called for back up, had seen the movement and leap forward to intercept the feral man before he did any damage.

After a confused few seconds full of shouts, grunts and growls, the proverbial smoke cleared to reveal Angel laying face down on the floor, Spike lying across his back, pinning his arms, while the empty dart lay a little distance away.

"Did I get him?" Willow asked nervously, watching as Spike struggled to restrain the man beneath him.

"You got 'im red, but I'm not sure the sleepy juice is working." Spike bit out.

"It wasn't a sedative" The man said, stepping forward and crouching down to look at a restrained Angel. "We should see the effects soon enough."

Angel struggled frantically, hissing and growling. He was terrified, completely ignorant of what they were trying to do. But despite this, he could feel the red mist clearing. Higher levels of thought were breaking through and primal terror turned to real human fear. He whimpered, his struggles lessening as his body registered its fatigue.

He tried to glare up at the man, but he was sure that his fear was more than evident in his eyes. What he didn't know was that instead of deep brown, the eyes staring up at the scar faced man were bright amber, set below pronounced ridges.

"Mr Keeley?" The man asked calmly.

Angel nodded tensely, hating himself for being so obedient, but unable to shake years of conditioning.

"My name is Rupert Giles, the young lady behind me is Willow Rosenberg and." Giles stopped to think for a second, then a small smirk twitched at the corner of his mouth. "And the man on your back is Spike. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

"Yes," Angel croaked back.

"Good, glad to have you back with us. Spike, for god's sake, get off him."

Angel felt the weight shift from his back but remained on the floor, unsure of what they wanted him to do and not wanting to incur their anger. He'd tried fighting back just once before, and the beating was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. So he continued to look up at the man who called himself Rupert Giles, mildly confused by the compassionate look he was receiving in return.

"We aren't going to hurt you. I know you have questions, and I will explain everything, but for now. perhaps you should put some clothes on?"

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

Angel sat on his bed in the medical bay watching Emily while idly fiddling with the frayed cuffs of the black wool sweater he'd been given. After Willow had handed him the threadbare knitted sweater, a pair of equally worn black combat pants and a pair of scuffed leather boots, she, Giles and Spike had left him alone to get dressed.

He knew his face was beat red, he couldn't remember ever being so embarrassed. It seemed so unimportant considering everything that had happened to him lately, but he couldn't help it. For weeks he'd been stripped of his dignity, forced to lie naked while white coats poked and prodded under glaringly bright lights. He'd endured all of that, and still the standards by which he'd been raised balked at the latest exposure. Before the nightmare that had become his life had started, the only people who had ever seen him naked were his parents and Darla; and his parents hadn't seen him without his clothes on since he'd been old enough to dress himself. It just wasn't done! It was. unseemly, improper. Damn it, it was just wrong!

He just couldn't get over the fact that he'd been completely naked, spread out on the floor, not to mention having another man plastered over his back. It was just so. so! He didn't have a word for it, or for the emotions he was feeling at the memory. It was taking all his self control not to curl up in a hole somewhere, the burden of humiliation becoming too much to carry.

And then there was the way the blonde man called Spike had looked at him. It had been such a brief glance before he'd walked out after the others, but the look sent shivers through him, and not unpleasant ones either. He'd never been looked at like that before, and it confused the hell out of him.

A sound from the other bed drew his attention.  Turning toward it, he sighed, it was only a snuffle and not a sign of his daughter waking. A wave of self loathing hit him as he looked down at her. How could he be so caught up in his own head, so selfish in his thoughts, when she was lying there defenceless? Slipping from his own bed, he perched on the end of hers and took her tiny hand in his.

"Hey sleepy, any time you feel like waking up is ok with me. Don't you want to wake up for daddy?" He sighed again, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "I wish I knew what was wrong with you baby girl, are you in pain? Are you dreaming?"

"ahem"

Angel spun round at the sound of someone clearing their throat behind him only relaxed marginally when he saw it was Giles standing in the doorway.

"I'm sorry to interrupt." The older man said compassionately. Angel didn't reply, just stood from the bed and turned to face him, arms folded over his chest, unconsciously putting himself between Giles and his daughter.

Giles ignored him and moved to stand beside the child's bed, aware but not reacting to Angel's hawk like stare. "I couldn't help but over hear you talking to her before." he looked up at Angel then and smiled softly. "I can assure you she's in no pain. Willow sees no reason why she shouldn't wake in the next few days."

Angel couldn't hide his relief and nodded. A thought occurred to him and he ducked his head in acute embarrassment. Shame warred against the need to make sure his child was alright, but paternal instinct won out.

"What. when i." he cleared his throat stiffly and looked up at Giles, tired of his own stuttering. "Will she change too? Like I did?"

Giles sighed and met his eyes. "We don't know. As far as we can tell, she's merely a carrier of."

"Of what!? What is this thing that's supposedly tainted me and my daughter!? Or are you just going to sideline me too? Why won't anybody tell me!!??" Angel exploded, then startled by his own outburst, took a step back. "S.sorry."

"No need." Giles replied calmly, totally un-rattled. "I understand this is trying time for you. Believe me, I felt exactly the same way."

"You." Angel gaped.

"You'll find there are quite of few of us who have experiences much like yours. We are all victims of the same lies. Some of us have become embittered by it, and then some of us try and help others like us make the most of this new world. And as for what you are. Quite simply put, you're a vampire. Or at least as close to a vampire as exists these days."

Angel just blinked.

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

A vampire, he was a vampire, or close to one. And Emily carried vampire genes, although she wasn't likely to change. His mind was about to explode with the knowledge.

After Giles had dropped that bombshell, he'd not really be very aware of much, although when he refocused, they'd moved from the room he'd woken up in to an office, and he was sat in a comfortable armchair, the older man watching him carefully. The Englishman had explained a little more, and now Giles, as he insisted he be called, had gone to get him something to drink.

A vampire, it was hard to take in. When he thought demon he'd always thought of big scaly monsters, or wicked looking devils with horns and long tails. He'd been taught from an early age to keep an eye out for demons, but it had never even occurred to him to think vampire. Vampires were the creatures from the books that you weren't supposed to read. The ones you could buy at the little back street bookstores, the kind he and his friends had dared each other to enter when they were kids. They were usually in those books that showed pictures of women without their shirts on, the kind of book that Malcolm from his 11th grade history class had shared pages from behind the gym.  Malcolm who'd been caught one day. and never came back to school. Malcolm who's parents had moved away.

But those vampires hadn't looked like the pictures Giles had showed him. He still couldn't get over the fact that his face had changed into that. Angel ran his hands over his face, not for the first time since he'd seen the pictures. Despite the fact that he could find no evidence of the ridges and fangs, Giles had assured him that his face had changed earlier.

He looked down at his shaky hands and took a deep breath. His mind was all over the place, the barrage of information he'd been subjected to was turning his brain to mush. Giles had gone into detail about the genetics and history behind what he was, but it was hard to untangle the threads, especially since he didn't understand half of what had been said and not just the science. There was so much about his situation, where he was, he didn't really get.

The basics of what he could muddle together formed a strange picture in his head. There was a gene, a gene his mother would have carried that had been passed to him. It was on the X chromosome and so it would have never manifested in his mother, but would in him. On the same level Emily wasn't likely to be any more than a carrier, if she had it at all. Giles had asked if he knew of any disappearances in his family, but to his knowledge there hadn't been. What he did know was that he was the first male child born to his mother's side of the family for more than 200 years. And considering what Giles had told him about the gene he carried, it explained why it hadn't been picked up in screening for so long.

The rest, about vampires, and extinction and Underworld went right over his head; he simply didn't have the background information to piece it together.

The door opened, and Angel looked up to see Giles walking in with two glasses and bottle of amber liquid. He watched as the Englishman poured the liquid into both glasses and past one to him. Raised it and the fumes took him off guard.

"What.?"

"Its whisky, I think you'll find it will settle your nerves. We still have a lot of ground to cover, and you may need something to. soften the blow." Giles said with a small quirk of his lips. "You'll need to sip it, If you're anything like I was, then you wouldn't have had much to drink, alcohol wise, before."

Angel blinked and looked from the glass to Giles and back again, his eyes wide. "Alcohol?"

He knew what alcohol was, but he knew it was, well, illegal for a start. It was an evil that had plagued humanity before the war. He'd heard about alcohol busts on the news before, and they were big news. He couldn't believe how calmly he was being offered something so. wrong. But then he'd just been told he would need to live off blood, and that demons could be good. Looking at the amber liquid, he thought about the chaos that had become his life, thought maybe it was just a really vivid nightmare so what the hell, and took a sip.

It burned! He coughed and hit his own chest as the liquid burned his throat. He'd not meant to take so much. His eyes watered, but then the burning passed and warmth began to seep out from his chest. A small smile twitched his lips; Giles was right, it was settling.

Giles watched him impassively from his own chair, and waited for the younger man to look up. When Angel finally stopped his detailed study of his glass, Giles spoke.

"I apologise, I threw an awful lot at you before. Do you need me to go over anything again?"

"All of it?" Angel croaked jokingly, his voice also laced with an aura of desperate bewilderment. Giles chuckled knowingly, and Angel tiredly ran his hand through his hair. "I guess. I just. I don't actually understand where I am. and that just makes the rest seem."

"Out of context?" Giles offered.

"Yeah," Angel sighed.

Putting his glass on the desk, Giles rose form his chair and opened the door. "I think it will be easier if I showed you."

Standing, Angel followed Giles out of the office and back into the medical bay, then out into a metal corridor. Gunship grey walls stretched out ahead of them, their boots clanking on the metal floor. The back ground noise of engines was louder in the corridors, a constant whir and the sound of machines.

He stuck close to Giles as they made there way through the maze of metal hallways. He wasn't sure when he decided he trusted Giles, it may have been when he started to actually answer questions, or maybe before that, when he'd looked down at Emily with genuine concern. But either way, he was now pretty sure he was amongst friends. But even if the Englishman wasn't threatening, it didn't mean that half of what he'd been telling him was any easier to swallow. If he thought that his world had been turned on its head when the soldiers had pulled from his home, then that had been nothing to when he'd been gassed. And now both of those events were paling in comparison to the words that flowed to his ears carried on a smooth English accent.

Suddenly he noticed that Giles had started talking again and started listening in earnest. It didn't matter if everything he'd ever known was being thrown to the dogs by this man, he wanted to know.

"Forget everything you ever believed about the history of the last three hundred odd years, its all lies. The great war had nothing to do with human genetics."

"No." Angel suddenly objected. Of all the things that he'd been told, this most pivotal of facts that had been drummed into him since birth he was not so willing to abandon. "Humans started breading with demons and humanity turned on itself. that's."

"Bullshit." Giles interrupted succinctly. "It's bullshit. Humans and demons had been breeding for thousands of years. It had nothing to with what happened, in fact, without that breeding humans wouldn't have survived at all."

"No way. sorry, I've been really open to all this. but no."

"For god's sake man! You've just found out you're a demon, yet you can't accept that humans and demons together can be a good thing?!"

"I." Angel stumbled over his words. How could he explain that to accept what this man was saying was to remove the foundation to his entire existence? It was too much, and he could almost feel his mind filing everything away into a little draw labelled 'to deal with later.'

"I know this is difficult." Giles said quietly, rubbing a finger under his eye patch. "And I know you're probably going to need some time to come to terms with it all, but the sooner you know all the facts, the easier it will be. After that, what you choose to believe is up to you."

Angel nodded, taking a deep breath. His head was beginning to hurt. But he knew Giles was right, he needed to know, and he needed to find out as much as he could so he stood a better chance of looking after Emily. Emily, his mind leapt on her name and hung on tight. He would focus for Emily, he could break down and scream his confusion later, for now he needed to concentrate.

Giles began walking again and Angel fell tiredly into step.

"The great war wasn't caused by humans fighting each other. For once in our bloody history we weren't actually to blame for starting something. In late may 2001, the walls between dimensions collapsed."

"Dimensions?"

"There are other worlds, running parallel to our own. Some of these worlds are full of demons the likes of which have never been dreamed of in the worst human nightmare. When these walls fell, if only briefly, those demons took the opportunity, and swarmed over this world. Humanity was ill prepared for such an onslaught, the governments of the time made some bad decisions, started fighting amongst themselves for the unoccupied lands and meanwhile humanity was loosing. That was until a group of demons, half demons, magic users and humans banded together and formed an army. This army soon gained followers, and the invaders were pushed back and eventually banished. Humanity was saved by the very thing they had feared for millennia. The demons that had always lived here, wanted the invaders even less than we did, and most saw no benefit in the destruction of the human race."

Giles paused, and Angel noticed they'd reached a set of double doors. He shook himself, all of what he'd just been told clambering around inside his head.

"So the war ended nearly 13 years after it started." Giles continued. "But the destruction left behind was incomparable. The earth's surface was practically destroyed. So using the most advanced engineering, the most powerful magic's, and a workforce of billions."

Giles hit a button and the twin doors slid open to reveal a kind of flight deck. Angel stepped forward in shocked awe. Spike and a brunette woman sat that the controls, but they weren't what caught his attention. Through the panoramic window in front of them, he could see they were moving through a world of eerie grey. The ground in the distance was black and desolate, great pillars reaching up from it to where the sky should have been, but instead was a concrete ceiling stretching into eternity.

". They built a new one."

~Part: 4~

The sound was eerie; empty and hollow. It ricocheted around the flight deck, madness almost tangible. It made skin crawl and put teeth on edge. Laughter; mirthless desperate laughter.

Spike couldn't help but turn around to look at its source. He'd been trying his best to ignore the brunette when he'd walked in, but the cackles of hysteria made it almost impossible. There he was, the man from the bed, but more pivotal to Spike's mind, the man from the floor. All morning, since he'd had that body pinned beneath his own he'd been trying to block out the memory. Flawless, that was the only word he could think of. Even the needle marks and bruising couldn't detract from the shear quality of the skin he'd felt beneath his fingers. Down here such perfection just did not exist, life was too hard, the food too poor, the weather too harsh.

And now as he watched the man break, he stared into the same eyes that had haunted him since he'd first looked into them. No longer filled with that innocence, but madness and pain; it was a look he'd seen far too many times before. A look of worlds destroyed, foundations shattered. It was a look he'd seen in his own eyes for far too many years back when he first arrived.

Those eyes were pleading with him, begging him to change the world and in that second when their eyes locked he wanted to. Wanted to burn the world to the ground and make it perfect once more for this man. He was captivated; what did this man see in his eyes that he couldn't look away? Even as his pain laughed its way out of his body, as tears coursed freely down his cheeks.

He blinked and the moment shattered. Angel fell to his knees, clutching his hair as his body rebelled against the furious emotions burning under his skin. It wasn't funny, but all he could do was laugh. Laugh until his eyes bled and the hell in front of him disappeared. Even those blue eyes he suddenly recognised as the ones that had guarded his sleep, offered no reprieve. Too much, it was too much.

"No." The shallowest hiccupped whisper, but Spike heard it. The ice rushed back into him. He couldn't change the world, couldn't take away the pain. And why should he? No one had taken his.

Angel saw the ice form in those crystal blue eyes as clearly as if a glacier had subsumed them. It made him shiver, and another burst of hysterical laughter burst forth. His fragile hold on the sanity of his contrive world slowly folded like a broken house of cards. No reprieve, no hope, no mercy, no anything. This was hell. His laughter shook itself into desperate sobs, the vista through the window permanently imprinted on his memory so there was no escape from the truth even in his own head. The reality of his situation finally hit home. The final betrayal cutting like a knife.

His whole world was a lie.

He got to his feet and stumbled, oblivious of the rest of the room, so he was almost pressing his nose against the window. He could hear voices behind him but ignored them as he studied the view.

"You broke him moron!"

"He had to know spike!"

"Yeah well, did you have to be so bloody theatrical about it? What ever happened to the gentle approach?"

"Good lord. is that actual compassion there William."

"Watch it Ripper. you're not as young as you once were.  I care about my ship! I do not want an emotionally unbalanced Vampire on board! It's bad enough with you do gooders!"

Angel blinked. The ship was moving smoothly far above the ground. He could see the carcasses of dead trees on the ground below, and the faint rippling of magic in the concrete above. Ahead in the distance he swore he could even see clouds.

"There's no sun." he spoke mostly to himself, but the argument behind him halted.

"Lucky for you then mate," Spike shot back glibly. His various masks firmly back in place, a harsh scowl marring his chiselled features. "Doubt you'd be much for sun now."

"Now who's being theatrical?" Giles sniped.

Angel pressed his forehead against the cool glass and continued to ignore them, his eyes riveted to the view beyond. He didn't care about the others in the room anymore, his world had narrowed down to his desperate search for something in the endless grey sky. But no matter how hard he looked, he knew, he would never find it, and the thought was tearing great lumps off him. It wasn't that his world revolved around the existence of the sun, well no more than any person's did, but its absence was so undeniable that the rest became undeniable too.

"Tell me the rest." Angel whispered, acknowledging the others for the first time.

Giles swallowed, "I think perhaps it can wait."

"Tell me." Angel cut him off firmly, still not turning round.

"We don't know the full details." Giles sighed. "But we do know that when the new surface was finished, humanity was supposed to share it with the demons that had helped create it. But some how that never happened." Giles spoke gently, coming to stand beside Angel between the two flight consoles so that he too was almost nose to nose with the glass. "We do know that the selective relocation began about a year after its completion. Vast scores of people were moved around, but very few made it to the surface."

"And the demons?" Angel asked.

"What reports we have tell us that humans, demons, half demons, they all expected to go up, and when they weren't in the first. Second and even third wave, they assumed their time would come. Then the humans up there sealed everything up, bar a few, inaccessible points, volcanoes and the like. Those that made it to the surface were hunted down and murdered. Are still being hunted. You have to realise, we lost a lot of the advanced technologies in the war, the genetic screening they had then was pitiful compared to now. And since humans and demons had formed their alliance, the number of half demons sky rocketed. So many slipped through then. and now their descendants are paying the price for wanting to be part of something that was rightfully theirs anyway."

"Like I am." Angel whispered.

Giles held his tongue, now was not the time to explain the complexities of Angel's heritage. But in part it was still true; Angel was paying the price for one species' bigotry.

Angel nodded stiffly, as if he's made his mind up about something, but Giles noticed that his face had gone eerily blank. He wondered briefly what the dark haired man was thinking about, but then decided it was frightening enough in his own mind, and he'd been here for years.

Spike watched the exchange with feigned disinterest, his eyes narrowing when the older Englishman concentrated on the betrayal the demons suffered at the hands of the Upperworlders, even though their fellow humans had suffered one of equal magnitude. He knew why Giles had done it, why he always slanted his words to focus on the person he was addressing. That humanity had turned on its own was irrelevant for now. What was important was getting someone who recently discovered themselves to be a demon to empathise with their demon heritage, to rid them of the prejudices installed in them from a young age. More than one person in Angel's situation had been known to take their own lives rather than live as a demon.

But that didn't stop the well of bitterness. The betrayal of humans by humans was something that ate away at him, and he couldn't stop the caustic thoughts in his head if he wanted to. 'At least *he* can distance himself from them now. I bloody can't.'

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

Faith Stuart was getting really good at keeping her mouth shut. It wasn't a natural talent, hell her only real natural talent was for opening it. But enough missions to the GRC and the fall out from that, had made her pretty good at holding her tongue. She was an 'in your face' kind of girl, always had been, but the last thing anybody needed when they had new survivors on board was her no nonsense attitude.

So she kept her eyes forward and her mouth shut as the flight deck was used as an educational tool, and the poor student had their world torn apart. The choice of joining in was also taken out of her hands, when Spike decided to; after all, someone had to fly the damn ship. But she kept her eye on the proceedings, hysterical newbies tended to do silly things, like flail all over the controls.

This time however it wasn't the new comer who held her attention, but her long time best friend. Spike was acting, well, not un-Spike like, but close. The sniping and arguing with Giles was nothing new, but the genuine, if only brief, compassion was entirely alien.

So when Giles led the almost catatonic man from the flight deck, she couldn't hold her tongue any longer. It was one thing keeping quiet to make sure you didn't set off an emotionally unbalanced refugee, quite another resisting the urge to wind up your best friend.

"So." She started as Spike slumped into his chair.

"One word mut." Spike said quietly.

"What? I wasn't going say anything Blondie. I mean hell what could I say? seeing you all caring and cuddly's just left me speechless." Faith shot back with a snigger, ignoring the nickname. She didn't mind, it was one she'd given herself. It was pretty accurate too; there were so many different demon species floating around in her past that her DNA read like a list of ingredients on the back of a packet of jelly beans.

Spike just mumbled something caustic under his breath and jabbed at the controls.

"Oh I get it!" She crowed with glee. "You've got a hard on for the new guy!" She cocked her head on one side and thought about it for a second. "Not that I blame you, serious stud going on there."

"Just drop it Stuart, before I have to tell everyone about your little Bambi episode." Spike hissed.

"You wouldn't!" Faith laughed back, knowing Spike would never make good on his threat. They'd known each other for so long they had enough blackmail material between them to make the mob jealous.

Now Spike did quirk a small smile and rolled his eyes. "Eyes on the sky you, don't fancy hitting that mountain."

"What!" Faith yelped and shot her eyes front only to see their path un-obscured. "Dick."

"Slut"

"Fag"

"Whore"

"Love you too."

"Who doesn't?"

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

Sometimes it was the simple things that could bring the most comfort. He couldn't really remember asking for them, but Willow had brought him some paper and a pencil. He thought better when he drew, always had.

A small snort left him as the pencil skittered over the page. He wasn't really concentrating on what his hand was doing; he was too lost in the past. It had been years since he'd drawn like this, back before Emily was born, back before he'd had to get all respectable, back when he and Darla had been pushing the boundaries of what was considered proper behaviour. They never had any idea how serious the consequences could have been, the worst they thought about was what actually happened. The scowls and raised eyebrows as Darla walked down the aisle her belly already rounded.

Of all the things I believe in

I just want to get it over with

tears from behind my eyes

but I do not cry

Counting the days that past me by

How could they have ever been so innocent? How could they have not known? But they hadn't known, they hadn't a single clue about the darkness that lay beneath their feet. Lazy days spent in the park, hidden from view, but thrilled by the fear of getting caught. Excited about doing something they really shouldn't, but safe in knowledge that should something go wrong they were perfect for each other.

I've been searching deep down in my soul

Words that I'm hearing are starting to get old

Looks like I'm starting all over again

The last few years were just pretend and I say

But had they been, really? He loved her, he knew he did. She'd been his best friend; they'd known each other since they were toddlers. She was one of the most beautiful girls at school, so he'd leapt at the chance when they started to say how good together they'd be. They even received a confirmation of genetic compatibly a year into their relationship. She knew him inside out, or so he thought.

Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything I thought I knew

You were the one I love

The one thing that I tried to hold on to

But was she just like everything else from the surface, a lie? And did it really matter? Everything from that world was gone now, and there was no way to get it back. The loss was tremendous. Everything was gone, his home, his wife, his comfortable job at the phone company. If they had ever truly been his at all, they were gone now.

I still get lost in your eyes

And it seems like I can't live a day without you

Closing my eyes till you chase my thoughts away

To a place where I am blinded by the light but it's not right

Angel looked down at the paper in his hands. He'd drawn Darla, years ago, holding Emily when she was still just a baby, two sets of wide eyes staring back at him. He traced his finger down the page, holding back the tears that threatened to fall. He wished with everything in him that he could return to that, back to those even simpler days. New father, new job, new wife, the comfort of predictability. Ignorance was truly bliss, and no amount of wishing could return him to that innocence.

Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything I thought I knew

You were the one I loved

The one thing that I tried to hold on to

He couldn't deny it anymore, couldn't hide behind the lies. It was time to let go, time to just lie down and accept. The burden of such acceptance weighed so heavy that he wanted to sleep and never wake. But one look at the bed in front of him, one look at the one thing from that shattered life that he still held firmly in his grasp and he knew he couldn't.

Ohhh yeah

It hurts to want everything & nothing at the same time

I want whats yours and I want whats mine

I want you but I'm not giving in this time

He may have lost his Wife and his home, but Emily had lost her mother, and her future. She would need him more than ever now. Something alerted him to another's presence, and he looked up into blue eyes. This man in front of him had saved his life, but right now he didn't know whether to thank him or kill him. Then the thought of extinguishing the light from those eyes slammed into him, and something screamed, way down inside him, so far that he almost didn't hear it. He blinked.

"Who is she?" Spike asked quietly, nodding at the picture.

Angel took a moment to comprehend what was said, then looked at the picture. He almost choked when the grief returned after its momentary break. "My Wife."

The sadness in his voice wasn't lost on Spike and his jaw clenched slightly. Confused by his own reaction, the blond leaned back against the wall, affecting a nonchalant air. "You miss 'er?"

Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything I thought I knew

You were the one I loved

The one thing that I tried to hold on to

The one thing that I tried to hold on to

Angel looked at the paper again and sighed. "She's not even real."

Folding the paper carefully, he pushed it into Emily's hand, folding the tiny fingers around it. "Not any more."

Goodbye to you

Goodbye to everything I thought I knew

You were the one I loved

The one thing that I tried to hold on to

~Part: 5~

They’d been travelling for nearly two days now. If they’d been at full speed, they could have done the trip in just over eleven hours. But Willow still needed some of the power cells in the medical bay, and they were forced to fly close to the ground at lower speeds. Closer to the ground meant they had to fly around things, and both Spike and Faith were exhausted.

Usually when they made these trips they had a couple that needed medical attention, so Spike would push one burst of power from the ship to get it to a safe landing spot then they would wait there until they could run on full power. But with Emily showing no sign of waking the decision had been made to fly on half power. There were a number of downsides to that decision, apart from their pilots’ increasing fatigue; the other crew members were anxious to get home, the food rations were running low and the bodies now lying in the cargo hold, were beginning to smell.

Spike scrubbed his hand over his face in an attempt to wake himself up. He looked over to Faith, whose head would occasionally dip as she fought off sleep. She couldn’t even cover it by saying she was bobbing to the music, everyone knew she had better rhythm than that. It was getting ridiculous, they’d both been flat out for more than 36 hours.

Spike sniffed, winced then went to complain to Faith about the smell only to see her leant back in her chair, her head lolling to one side fast asleep. Rolling his eyes, he picked up a drinks can and threw it, and grinning gleefully as it connected with her head.

"What? I’m awake, I’m awake… and ow!"

Further back in the ship, tucked away in his cabin, Giles scowled into his books, swivelling in his chair to pull another off the shelf in order to compare the two. The ship swerved slightly, and he sighed, shifting his eye patch to finger the long healed scar.

And in the her office, Willow sat perched on her desk, a tall blonde woman resting between her spread legs as the pair looked out on the medical bay through the open door. The redhead stroked down the side of her lover’s face and idly ran her hair through her fingers, causing the blonde to snuggle back into her as they watched the peaceful scene in front of them.

His head resting on his folded arms, Angel slept peacefully, slumped over the end of Emily’s bed from his seat at its side.

"He can’t be comfortable." The blonde sighed.

"He’s exhausted." Willow replied, continuing to run her hands through the blonde hair. "This is the first he’s slept since I knocked him out."

They passed a moment more in silence, before the blonde spoke again. "We should shut the door."

"Why?" Willow replied softly, with a frown.

"I remember the last time a new arrival saw us like this." The blonde giggled back. "She almost had a heart attack. Although… he may enjoy the show."

"Tara!" Willow scolded softly, surprised by her lovers unusual outburst. Then she laughed, kissing the top of the blonde head. Suddenly Tara straightened, grabbing Willow’s hand.

"Look!"

Willow did, and then jumped off the table to get a closer one. She felt Tara’s fingers lace with hers, and she turned to give her a huge smile. Emily was awake.

Grinning stupidly, she moved forward slowly, experience having told her not to startle people who’ve just woken up, especially children. The wide blue eyes tracked her movements dozily then fearfully. The child’s bottom lip began to wobble, and Willow stopped confused by the instant fear.

It was Tara who understood. "Your coat."

"What?" Willow asked, confused.

"She’s scared of your coat. I was too… Hadn’t seen white coats b… before… before…"

Willow gasped, and shucked out of the coat quickly, squeezing her lover’s hand at the first opportunity. Tara smiled and shook her head, then nodded over to Angel and Emily. "I’m fine… go see to your patients Dr Rosenberg."

Willow nodded, and pecked her cheek, before slowly approaching the bed and laying a hand on Angel’s shoulder.

"Uhhh?" Angel groaned groggily, looking up at her. "What’s wrong?"

"Nothing," Willow said softly with a smile. "But I think someone wants to see you."

Angel’s head snapped round, and he gasped. Emily looked at him worriedly, her eyes ticking over to Willow every couple of seconds.

"Oh God…" Angel rushed forward and mindless of the tubes and wires still attached to his daughter’s skin, pulled the child into his arms.

"Daddy…" Emily sniffled into his neck, hiding her face in the safest place she knew.

"I’m here baby girl… thank god, thank god… you had me so worried…" Angel kissed into her hair, rubbing his cheek across the top of her head. Pulling back, Angel looked down at her face, using one hand to wipe the tears from his cheeks. "You are so beautiful"

Emily giggled wetly between sniffles, then her face slipped into a scowl as she spotted Willow again.

"What’s wrong? Are you hurt?" Angel asked worriedly, only to have Emily shake her head and bury it in the crook of his neck. "Emi, baby girl, if you don’t tell me what’s wrong, I can’t make it better."

"I don’t want to see the doctors anymore, please daddy," Emily plead.

Angel drew a sharp breath, his heart breaking for what his daughter must be thinking. "No… No more bad doctors baby girl. I promise. But Willow is a nice doctor."

Emily looked up at him, her lips pursed, then over to Willow and back again. "Promise?"

"Promise, she’s just like Dr Spinner. You remember Dr Spinner don’t you sweetheart?" Angel said hopefully, thinking back to the one time Emily had been in hospital, when she’d split her chin in a fall at school. Dr Spinner had been probably one of the nicest doctors Angel had ever met, and his way with kids was awe inspiring.

Emily nodded happily, and looked over at Willow, who stepped forward with a warm smile.

"Hey Emily, how are you feeling?"

Angel settled the girl back on the bed, and kissed the top of her head. The small child looked up her father for guidance and Angel smiled back reassuringly. "We need to know you’re all better baby girl, you were really sick for a while."

"My arms hurt." Emily pouted. "and I’m hungry."

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

Angel followed Willow through the corridors of the ship towards the galley, Emily resting easily on his hip, her arms around his neck. She wasn’t strong enough to walk on her own yet, but the medical bay was still a little frightening for her. So after Willow had removed the various tubes and wires, and re-bandaged the worst of the needle holes, they’d set off in search of food. Angel hadn’t actually ventured to the galley himself yet, Willow or Tara had been bringing him food so he didn’t have to leave Emily’s side.

Willow held open to door for them, and Angel passed through into a room that looked much the same as many of the others on board. Gun metal grey walls, cold metal floor and a low ceiling. At the far end, from what he could see, a nook held a large refrigerator and basic cooking equipment, and in the centre of the room a long metal table was bolted to the floor with metal bench seats bolted down on either side. The kitchen nook was separated from the rest of the room by a waist high serving bar.

A scruffy brunette suddenly popped up from behind the counter, startling Willow and Angel, making the former hiss and the latter step back.

"Xander, you dolt!" Willow growled, pressing her hand to her chest.

"Whoa! Sorry!" The young man yelped, then held up the various snacks he’d been fishing out of the cupboards below the counter. "Just getting snacks for his highness."

Angel blinked at the youth’s overly cheerful sneer. It was obvious that who ever it was he was getting snacks for was the butt of some private joke, but there was no malice in the boys tone. Shaking his head, he looked over to Willow in hopes of an introduction.

"Oh sorry! This is Xander," Willow announced.

"Xander Harris, chief engineer, general handy man, and now apparently waiter too." Xander said with an exaggerated bow, then a flourished wave of the snacks he carried. "And you must be Angelus Keeley, welcome aboard."

"Just Angel," Angel said warily, unsure what to make of the fact that this boy already knew his name, not to mention the fact that the only people that had ever called him Angelus with any regularity were his father and Darla. Although Darla used his full name when she was upset or worried too.

His thoughts suddenly screeched to an abrupt halt, the present tense slapping him in the face. He didn’t think he would ever get used to using the past tense, hell it had been 5 years and he still couldn’t use it where his parents were concerned.

"Hey? You in there?" Xander said jokingly, having noticed Angel’s momentary space out.

"What? Sorry…" Angel said somewhat sheepishly, "a lot on my mind."

"No kidding, and on that cheery thought, I have to run, Princess upstairs will have my hide if I don’t get this lot to him soon. Damn the man is an even bigger bitch than normal when he’s tired."

Taken aback and completely bewildered, Angel watched him leave silently, only snapping back to himself when Willow laughed.

"He has that effect on a lot of people, don’t worry about it. Come on sit down, and I’ll dig us out something to eat, then we can head up to the flight deck and tell Spike the good news."

Sitting down on one of the bench seats, Angel kept Emily on his lap so she could reach the table. The child in question yawned loudly and snuggled close, poking her fingers through the myriad of holes in her father’s sweater. Angel just sighed and kissed the top of her head as Willow disappeared behind the counter.

When she finally returned she placed a bowl full of vaguely brown sludge down in front of them. She grimaced apologetically as Emily scowled at it, but Angel waved her off. He was used to it by now; ship food wasn’t brilliant to start with, and with their reduced resources the over cooked stew they had constantly on the stove was pretty much all they had left to offer. They watched in silence as Emily picked up her spoon and prodded at it, then shared a smile as her hunger won out over her disgust and she began to devour the meal in earnest.

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

Tree… Go left

Tree… Go right

Tree… Go right again

Pylon… Who says there’s no variety in life?

Spike sighed and steered the ship with two fingers. They had reached the flat lands; great open plains covered in the carcasses of dead trees and the ghosts of old towns. For while after the building of the new surface, the light given off by the magics they’d used had encouraged new growth in Underworld, new growth at phenomenal speeds. Plains and forests covered what was once agricultural land as far as the eye could see. But as the magics wore off and the light dimmed, these new lush natural wonders had died and left only shadows in their wake. Unfortunately, these shadows were solid enough to down the ship, so Spike dozed, weaving slowly between the tall obstacles in his path.

Tree… Go left

Tree… Go left again.

Barn… with no doors… go through it.

The ship barely registered the destruction of the rickety wooden structure, although Spike grimaced at what it would have done to his paintwork. He was bored, exhausted and not a little cranky thanks to a far too cheerful engineer with a really badly timed need to call him princess. He only employed the kid because he was actually really good with ships, had there been anyone else around with Xander’s skill, he would have the left the boy in the dust. They were friends now, sort of, but the kid was Underworld, born and bred, and far too cheerful about it. The hiss of the flight deck doors sounded behind him, and Spike slumped.

"What now?!"

"Ummm… Willow… Willow…." Angel stumbled, Spike’s harsh tone catching him off guard.

"Willow what?" The same harsh growl issued from the seated figure.

Angel swallowed harshly and mumbled his reply. "She wanted me to tell you that you can have the power back."

A slow grin swept across Spikes face and he turned equally slowly to face his visitor. "Now that’s more like it! Your little kiddie wake up then?"

Angel nodded, and Spike found himself actually relieved, but then he’d always had a soft spot for kids. Shaking off his fatigue, he smacked Faith upside the head to get her attention, and pointed Angel to a seat. "Park your arse peaches. We’re about to take a ride."

"I really should be…" Angel started pointing to the door, but Spike swivelled away from him and slammed his hand into the intercom.

"Buckle up morons!!! Power’s back on!!" he crowed gleefully, then started to press a number of buttons on the consol in front of him as faith straightened, yawned and started to do the same.

The engines began to whine and Angel could feel the vibrations through the floor. He turned to head towards the door again, only to have Faith yell at him.

"Angel right?"

"Yeah?" he said hesitantly, the ship was now shaking harder, yet they didn’t seem to be getting any faster, although the engine noise was getting higher in pitch.

"Sit down… now!"

Angel dropped into the seat behind her obediently, fumbling frantically with the belt. Spike shot him a wicked smirk and twirled something round on his finger. Faith whooped, grabbed the disk and shoved it into a slot on her consol before stretching her arms above her and bringing one down with a mighty slap on one of the buttons.

Angel blinked as music, the likes of which he’d never heard, thrummed from speakers dotted around the flight deck. His surprise was even greater when Spike began to sing along, his smirk firmly in place, his hand resting on a lever at his side, Faith mirroring his position.

"When the little bluebird, who has never said a word. Starts to sing…"

"SPRING!" Faith chimed in before continuing the verse. "When the little bluebell, at the bottom of the dell, starts to ring."

"Ding dong… Ding Dong!" Spike sang beside her, all the while the engines squealed in their confinement.

Together they continued. "When the little blue clerk, in the middle of his work…" And together as the music crescendoed, their arms shot forward, releasing the power they’d built up, and making the ship surge under the new increased thrust.

"STARTS A TUNE TO THE MOON UP ABOVE!"

To Angel, G force was a totally new concept and his hands gripped the arms of his chair as if his life depended on it. "JEEEEEESUUUUUSSSSSS!"

"It is nature that that is all, simply telling us to fall in love!"

Grinning and singing, Faith and Spike piloted the ship with ease between the trees at top speed. Clouds of dust rippled up in its wake, the ship gliding between the trees and buildings. The scenery screamed past the windows and Angel started to shake, pure panic shredding all sense of self control.

"And that’s why birds do it! Bees do it! Even educated flees do it! Let’s do it! Let’s fall in love!"

"I’m gonna die, I’m gonna die!"

Swerving harshly from side to side, the ship almost danced through the flatlands.

"Cold cape cod clams ‘gainst their wish does it! Even Lazy jelly fish do it! LET’S DO IT! LET’S FALL IN LOVE!"

Angel whimpered as Spike and Faith crowed gleefully finally able to push their ship to the max.

"I've heard that lizards and frogs do it! Layin' on a rock!
They say that roosters do it with a doodle and COCK!"

"Some Argentines, without means do it! I hear even Boston beans do it!
Let's do it, let's fall in love!"

In the distance, Angel could sight of something approaching rapidly. It wasn’t a tree, he pretty sure of that. He glanced frantically at Spike, then at Faith, but they both seemed to be totally engrossed in the music.

"BUILDING! BUILDING!" He hollered, pointing with a shaking hand at the shape that was now close enough to make out.

"Where?" Spike asked absently, popping a peanut in his mouth from a bag on the consol in front of him.

"THERE!!!" Angel yelled. They were now close enough to see the detail on the boarded up windows.

"Oh right… there." Spike suddenly winked at Faith, and they pulled the ship into a sharp incline, throwing all three of them back in their seats.

"OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOHHHHH SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII…"

Spike kicked back into the song as if nothing was happening, as if he wasn’t piloting the ship up vertically towards the concrete sky.

"When the little blue bird who has never said a word, starts to sing…"

"When the little blue bell at the bottom of the dell… ding, ding, ding…" Faith chimed into the round.

"When the little Blue clerk in the middle of his work, starts a tuuuuuune…"

"Our father, who art in heaven…"

"The most refined lady bugs do it, when a gentleman calls." Faith continued to sing, sharing a laughing look with Spike over Angel’s obvious fear, then together they screeched the next line. "Moths in your rug they do it, what’s the use of moth BALLS!?"

"Hallowed be thy name"

"The chimpanzees in the zoos do it! Some courageous kangaroos do it! Let's do it, let's fall in love!"

"Thy kingdom come, thy will be done…"

"I'm sure sometimes on the sly you do it! Maybe even you and I might do it!
LET’S DO IT! LET’S FALL IN LOVE!!!!"

As the song’s heavy guitar cut out, the ship levelled out. Pilot and co-pilot whooped and cheered, tapping seemingly random buttons on their consoles. Spike spun his chair suddenly to look at Angel, the adrenaline flushing his face.

"You alright back there?" he smirked, his glee at Angels predicament entirely too obvious to be ignored.

Angel looked up shakily, breathing hard. "Oh god…"

"Not quite pet. I know I’m good, but save the religious experiences for when I’m feeling really inspired yeah?"

Faith snorted and Angel looked up at him sharply, glaring at the blonde. "That was…"

"Fun pet, that’s was what you call fun."

"I really am in hell."

~Part: 6~

Towers of steal and light, the air cast in eerie colours, blending and swirling in the misty vapours that rose from the forest of concrete. Like a beacon, the city shone in the eternal night, growing ever brighter and every bigger as they approached. The shells of long empty buildings struck harsh skeletal silhouettes, like the bones of long dead prisoners reaching for where freedom lay far beyond their reach. But around these dead things, bright, shiny, illuminated giants soared, challenging the inhospitable world to defeat their glory.

No one spoke on the flight deck. It had been hours since Spike’s little stunt, and with the approach of the city, everyone on board had been shepherded back to the flight deck. Spike tried not to pay too much attention to the man stood just behind his right shoulder looking out over what he would perceive as an alien world.

Below them dusty dead ground gave way to brightly lit poly tunnels, hundreds of metres long, and panning acres of ground. ULA’s bread basket. Every food imaginable grew below in those indoor fields. Mile after mile of glowing white crisscrossed with dark roads travelled by the occasional vehicle, their red and blue lights glinting like gems.

There were no words to describe the achievements of those below in reclaim the barren lands. But those achievements came at a high price. Poly tunnels gave way to buildings that got progressively bigger as they got closer to the main city. The roads became more congested, as did the skies. Flames licked from the roof and out the windows of a five storey building far below. A small ship circled around it, while on the ground, a crowd could just be made out. Angel watched fascinated as the flames leapt unhindered to the building next door.

"That’s spreading awful fast." Angel whispered absently too overwhelmed to truly understand the import of what he was seeing.

"Not like there’s anyone to put it out." Spike snorted.

Angel was prevented from replying to this worrying comment as Faith suddenly spoke into her head set.

"Hyperion Control… This is ICV Drusilla… Requesting permission to approach, over."

"This is Hyperion Control… Verify status, over."

"Status blue, I repeat blue, 2 casualties, 6 fatalities, Power at 14 percent… Over"

"Permission granted ICV Drusilla… We’re clearing some room up top for you now… Welcome home."

"Cheers Charlie… Better have a cold one for me and blondie when we get there."

"They’ve been on ice for days girl! Where you been?"

"Long story big guy… ICV Drusilla Out."

Spike and Faith shared a grin, and then steadily began to take the ship down between the buildings. Angel dropped down into his seat between Emily and Giles. He worried his bottom lip in his teeth and scowled at the pair at the helm, not liking how little he knew about what was going on.

"Are you alright?"

Angel turned to Giles, and not able to contain his curiosity, asked quietly, "What’s going on?"

"We’re entering Under Los Angeles. Faith was, uh, just asking our destination if we could land."

"Oh… so we’re going to a place called Hyperion control?" Angel prodded.

"No, the Hyperion hotel actually… and ICV Drusilla is the name of this… lump that Spike stubbornly refers to as a ship." Giles filled in.

"ICV?"

"Independent Cargo Vessel. And Rupert, be nice to the lady or next time you’re walking home. Lump my ass. No better ship this side of the bloody Atlantic." Spike interrupted firmly but trailed off with a grumble.

Angel looked wide eyed between Giles and Spike, having heard the real anger and offence taken at the older Englishman’s comment. He nearly jumped clean out of his skin when Giles laid a hand on his arm, and spoke in a mock wistful tone.

"Greater Love hath no man, than Spike for his Princess."

"And don’t you forget it!"

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

The ship had landed almost half an hour ago, and now Angel was sat with Emily asleep on his lap, on an uncomfortable round couch in the lobby of the Hyperion hotel. They were alone, all except for a man who’d met them as they’d left the elevator, and then had returned to his reading behind the counter. The others hadn’t come down in the elevator with them, they were still up on the roof unloading the bodies from the cargo hold.

Angel was having a hard time not staring, but there was so much to stare at. The building itself was the first point of amazement; he’d never seen anything like it, all rich colours, angles and curves. All the buildings in Upperworld where white, strict and formal structures of concrete, steal and glass. This was place was absolute decadence in comparison.

It was late, or early depending on how you looked at it, and the lobby was empty of any passing traffic, but Angel got the impression from the jumbled mess of papers on the counter and the random scattering of objects around the space that during the day the room would be bustling with activity. His eyes ticked back to the only other occupant but quickly looked away again.

This man, his head bent over a pile of paperwork, was the hardest thing not to stare at. If the building was exotic, then this man was alien. He was human, as far as Angel could tell, but he was… well he was black. He’d only ever seen people with skin that dark on TV and they never wore jeans and T-shirts; they were usually dressed in brightly coloured robes and ornate headdresses, and they were always in the background at meetings of world leaders.

The dark head rose and Angel was caught, he’d been staring again. Like a rabbit in the headlights he couldn’t look away.

"You got a problem?"

"No… no."

Did he have a problem? Hell yes, he was confused, which granted seemed to have become the status quo lately, but still. He never even considered this possibility. He wasn’t sure why not, Giles had said that humans had betrayed the humans too, but that still didn’t explain everything. He didn’t know what to think, he didn’t find the man threatening or offensive, just… different, new; like everything else around him. He couldn’t help but wonder how the man had got to Los Angeles from Africa. He wouldn’t have travelled in Upperworld, only eminent politicians travelled there, and why would anyone else need to? So maybe he was tainted too, and had come from Africa once he was in underworld, but the same question remained, why?

"Hey man, would you quit it? You starin’ at me like that startin’ to give me a complex."

"s… sorry… I just…"

"You just what?" the man snapped.

"Why aren’t you in Africa?"

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

A comfortable bed. How long had it been since he’d laid his head on soft pillows and snuggled under warm blankets? Too long, far too long. He was exhausted physically, emotionally, and mentally. For the last few days he'd hardly slept, and now as he stretched out on the bed they'd given him, he couldn't seem to find that place to tip over into blissful oblivion.

There was just too much going in his head, too many conflicting thoughts and emotions so that now instead of just numbly ticking over like it had been for the last 26 years, his mind was going a mile a minute and screaming like a banshee. He felt like that proverbial kid in the candy store, only said kid had just been told the candy was poisoned and the Umpa-lumpas ate babies and took bets on kids drowning in the chocolate river.

Angel blinked at the jumbled mixed metaphor and shifted on the too comfortable mattress. He was humbled by his hosts’ generosity and patience, he really was. It seemed that over the last few days they’d done little else but hold his hand try their best to guide him through this new and alien world. Answering all his questions, repeating the answers when they didn’t sink in the first time, picking him up when he fell, coming to his rescue when his ignorance got him into trouble.

The last was especially true; he really hadn’t meant to insult the man in the lobby, but he had, and it was only Faith and Giles’ calming intervention that had stopped the situation getting out of hand. Later the man, who then had introduced himself as Charles Gunn, had come and apologised, not that Angel felt he needed to. It turned out that Gunn had been in a surly and touchy mood even before their arrival, and when Angel finally noticed the plaster cast on the man’s arm and the bruising around his face, it wasn’t hard to work out why.

So after apologies and introductions, Giles had gone through the basics of living in underworld, and specifically living at the Hyperion. The hotel itself wasn’t just the base of operations for the resistance it turned out, but also a halfway house for refugees. Every one they rescued was welcome to stay as long as they wanted, but everyone had to pull their weight. The task of sorting out jobs and finances would be left for a couple of days, but they’d explained the likely gist of how things would pan out.

It was an almost 50/50 split between people who chose to stay at the hotel and those that chose to go out and try and make it on their own. But everyone who came down from upperworld was equipped a few basic necessities before they did anything else. The first and foremost of those was self defence training.

It hadn’t taken Angel long to realise that underworld was far from safe. If the fire sweeping its way through the city he’d seen on their way in hadn’t clued him in, then Gunn’s tale of ambush and beating certainly did. Underworld wasn’t just the home of the betrayed, but also the home of those that never would have gone to the surface after the war anyway. Murders, rapists, truly evil demons and the worst dregs of humanity.

Giles even admitted that they added to the problem themselves, since for everyone they rescued from the Gas in the GRC they ran the risk of rescuing someone who’d been there for something a whole lot worse than a simple harmless genetic taint. And there was no organised police force either, only groups of people who took it upon themselves to police their own neighbourhoods or those that could afford to hire guards to protect their properties.

Angel’s own self defence training was matter of deep debate. Normally it would have fallen to Gunn, but since he was out of commission, they had to elect someone else to do it and Angel would need special training, as it was likely his strength would only increase with proper feeding. So in the end the job had fallen to a reluctant Spike. The hissy fit the blonde had thrown at the news was something Angel was sure he would remember for a long time to come.

So with his first training session set up, and Emily fast asleep in his lap, he’d been relieved when Willow had put a halt on discussions in favour of letting the tired refugees sleep, and that was when their generosity had reached new levels. After a brief tour of the building to show him where important rooms such as the kitchen and training facilities were, he’d been shown to a large room on the third floor.

They’d said their goodnights, and after making sure Emily was comfortable on one side of the huge double bed, Angel had laid down to sleep.

But sleep hadn’t come.

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

Insomnia wasn’t the reserve of Angel alone. Far above his head, Spike lay back on the small bunk in his cabin on the ship, his hands folded behind his head. He didn’t usually sleep on the ship when he could avoid it, but he needed the solitude and security that his princess could bring him.

He was Angry, at Giles, at Willow, at Faith, at Angel but mostly he was pissed as hell with himself. He was behaving like a cross between a virginal school girl and menopausal old woman, neither of which where good things to be when you were a very worldly 25 year old man. Over the last three days he’d had more mood swings than a pregnant woman.

"and there we go with the bloody women analogies again! Think maybe you need do something about that?! 72 flippin’ hours with a good lookin’ bloke and you turn into a bird! bloody freakin marvellous"

"Talking to yourself again blondie?"

"Shit!" Spike shot upright at the unexpected voice, but sadly misjudged the gap above his head and hit the metal panel with a resounding thump. Groaning in real pain, he flopped back onto his bed and rubbed his forehead. "ow… bitch"

"Nice to see you too." Faith snarked, throwing herself in a chair. "thought I’d find you up here after the little display earlier."

"I’m not talking to you, turn coat." Spike hissed back.

"Now that’s real mature." She laughed, brushing off his genuine ire with accustomed ease.

"Bite me,"

"Nahh… you’re not my type, but Angel is" Faith teased dragging out the refugee’s name. When Spike cast her a surly look, she decided to do what she was best at, she went for the jugular. "You know, as clueless as the boy in question is, we’re not, and by we I mean everybody. So you’re little performance, not fooling anybody."

"oh and pray tell me, what is it I’m trying to fool you with? You daft over bearing trolllop?"

"You think Angel’s hot, you want him, you know you have like no chance and you’re pissed as hell."

"Oh really? And how did you come to that ever so amusing, but false conclusion?"

"come on baby bear, we both know you only get this worked up when your dick’s all raring to go, but you got nowhere to stick it, or more to the point, you can’t stick where you want to stick it."

"Firstly, Do. Not. Call. Me. baby Bear." Spike ground out. "And secondly, you Pratt, I wouldn’t fuck Angelus fucking Keeley if he was the last man alive… and he’s not even a man… he’s a freakin demon!"

"Like that ever bothered you!" Faith laughed openly.

"look alright I’ll admit, at first, yeah, I thought he’s hot, wouldn’t mind a piece of his arse… no harm in that… but turns out he’s complete a BURK! I mean, could he get any more insipid? Oh no, where’s the sun gone! Oh no, it’s all dark! Oh no, there’s demons and different coloured people and I’m all confused and helpless and oh oh oh! I’m so freakin girly I should be wearing pink!" Spike mocked venomously. "And ohhhh I’m a demon too? Ooooh no… booo hooo. But I’m so demon I cower like a little baby man when a guy with his face mashed in and one arm plaster gets growly, won’t somebody please help me… HE’S PATHETIC!"

"You done?" Faith asked after a beat.

"Not even close." Spike hissed back. "That stupid wank-stain isn’t going to last five minutes down here! And now you, Giles and Little miss ‘we-must-help-the-less fortunate’ want me! ME! To spend the next couple of months trying to get that fat oafish arse into shape? You want me, to be responsible for his safety? That stupid nancy’s forehead is enough to get him beaten to bloody pulp never mind what will happen the moment he opens his freakin’ mouth!"

"Wow… you feel any better for that?"

"Yes…" spike grumbled through clenched teeth. "Look Faith, I’ve seen hundreds of good looking blokes in my time, and this one’s no different, what’s got me all fuckin’ pissy, is the fact that you want me to spend the next couple of months, not only on the ground instead of flying around making heaps of lovely cash… but stuck in that fleabag hotel with Mr Moron 2305… so forgive me if I’m less than I happy with you right now."

"So you don’t like him?" Faith asked with a sceptical frown.

"What part of no are you not getting?"

"Fine! Fine!" Faith raised her hands in surrender and got up out of her chair. "I’ll leave you sulk then."

"Thank you. Much appreciated, really" Spike growled sarcastically as he watched her leave. Once he sure she was gone, he ran his hands through his hair tiredly and sighed. Having just spent the last three days convincing himself of the words he’s just spewed at Faith, and having just released them in one long cathartic rant, he almost believed them. What he needed was night out, and a damn good shag. Maybe he’d look up one of his regular guys.

"yeah that’ll do it, Tony?… nahh… not in the mood for that kind of kink… Marco? I thought this was exercise in getting away from girly boys you pillock! Ben?… yeah sweet little Ben… petite blond, mini me… right then, I’ve got me a plan now… gonna fuck that man right outta my head…"

With a groan, Spike rolled onto his front and buried his head under his pillow.

"I am so pathetic."

~Part: 7~

Angel woke at dawn as he had done for the last four weeks. No, dawn was the wrong word for it. Dawn in underworld was negotiable, every building had ambient lighting, and the light level would rise sharply at a given time to imitate the sunrise. Human beings needed the fake dawn, needed it like they needed oxygen, like they needed the Vitamin D that was put in the water supply, like they needed all the other little but crucial technologies that had sprung up out of necessity in a world devoid of sun. If he had to put a number on it, Angel would have guessed that Underworld was a good couple of hundred years more advanced than the Upperworld. In Upperworld life was easy, incredibly unfair he was now learning, but easy. Underworld living was hard, very hard and when life is hard, people had a habit of coming up with ways to make it easier.

But while human beings needed the fake dawn to ensure their body clocks didn’t go haywire and turn the entire populace into insomniacs, Angel wasn’t human. It had taken him a long time to get him to the stage he was now at, it wasn’t an easy process to get used to being a demon, especially when your body was still changing every day. But the thing that had become obvious very fast, was that his body clock had already shifted away from "hours of sun" to "hours of dark" or possibly something to do with the moon, no-one was quite sure yet.

Angel rolled over and buried his head under his pillow with a groan. It seemed his body had simply flicked a switch to nocturnal, but was taking its time to switch back. On his nightstand, the small digital clock chirped once then began to play music. With a grunt of frustration, Angel threw the pillow in its vague direction and missed.

With a sigh he swung his legs out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom. He yelped as the auto lights flicked on and blinded him. Fumbling to the wall he slid down the slider and then blinked at his reflection in the dimmed light. He growled. His body clock hadn’t been the only dramatic change to happen in the first few days, nor was it the only one that was taking its sweet arsed time to settle down.

It all came down to diet, mostly. Much of the last month had involved him sitting in the medical centre at the Hyperion with Willow and Giles umm-ing and ahh-ing until they came up with a hypothesis about what was happening to him. Mostly their answer had been his diet, and from that the hard to swallow fact that he had never been human, not totally. Even before the more obvious physical changes, his body had been craving something it wasn’t getting, and to compensate it had slowed or completely halted some functions. Why waste energy on hair and nail growth when it wasn’t getting the right nourishment?

He sighed again and looked the reflection in the eye, he was going to have to get used to it. Blood, he needed to drink blood. And now that he was, his body seemed to making up for lost time. His face sprouted what looked like two or three days beard growth on a normal man, although he’d been clean shaven before he went to bed. Running his hands over the straggly mass, he saw his finger nails needed cutting again although he’d done them two days before; he didn’t even want to look at his toes yet, or look at what they’d done to his bedding. And finally there was his hair, which was now - Angel twisted so he could see his back in the mirror – down to the small of his back and brushing the waist band of his low slung pyjama pants.

Biting on a particularly long thumb nail, he fished in the cabinet below the basin for the device Willow had given him and once he’d found it, plugged it into the socket beside the mirror. It whirred. It wasn’t a normal electric razor, and there was a good reason for that; it was the same reason his hair was nearly covering his ass and he’d rather bite his nails than use the nail clippers hidden in the bottom of the cabinet. It was a left over from the GRC, or rather the scars the place had left him with. There wasn’t a single mark on his skin now, thanks to his emerging preternatural physiology, but if someone could see inside him, his mind, his soul, it’d look like something with big claws had had go at playing noughts and crosses on his psyche. In short he was terrified of sharp objects near his skin. And it wasn’t the ‘curl up in a corner gibbering’ type of terrified either; It was the ‘try to rip the throat out of the threat’ type of terrified.

He pressed the button on the device and brought it to his jaw. His eyes watered. It was a sonic shaver, the type they used on patients to prep them for surgery, only modified slightly so it was easier to handle. To a normal human, it was inaudible, but with his enhanced hearing it sounded like someone screaming very high pitch right in his ear. But it was preferable to the alternative, attacking your own reflection was more painful than it sounded, and he was still finding shards of mirror glass in between the tiles in the bathroom.

Ten eye watering minutes later he clicked off the shaver and unplugged it, before slipping off the pyjama pants and stepping into the shower. Scalding water finally managed to flick his brain from auto pilot to full waking and he let it wash the sleep from his body. He enjoyed his morning ritual, finding a kind of peace in the routine. There was a surprising amount of routine in his life now, but it was all welcome. It stopped the black cloud of despair that hung just at the back of his mind from enveloping him.

Angel bent almost double with hair hanging forward and shoved his head under the spray. After his shower he’d get dressed then head down to the children’s wing of the hotel and pick up Emily so they could have breakfast together. He stepped back in the stall and fumbled for the shampoo, running a great globule through his hair with his fingers. Once they’d had breakfast, he’d take her back to the children’s wing where she’d go to classes with all the other children, and he’d head off to work. Stepping forward he began to work the lather of shampoo out of his hair under the spray. He didn’t mind his work, there wasn’t any real use for a customer service manager in Underworld, what big companies there were didn’t care much for customer satisfaction. But he did have preternatural strength and a good eye for aesthetics so they’d got him working on the renovations. It was mostly heavy lifting, knocking out walls, building new ones, helping the maintenance teams, handy man work. He stepped out of the spray and flicked his hair back before starting to work out the tangles with conditioner covered fingers. After lunch he’d go to the gym to meet Spike for his training session.

Angel sighed as he began to rinse out the conditioner. The training sessions. His shoulders slumped. It wasn’t that he didn’t like them, well not really. He could see the point, the medical bays were always full of people who’d been mugged or… he knew they were important. But why couldn’t he do them with someone else? Spike had seemed nice, if a little weird, at first, but now… The peroxide blond seemed to take every opportunity to belittle and deride him. He knew he was naïve, but it was hardly his fault, he knew he was skittish at times, but who could really blame him? And he knew he was supposed to have preternatural abilities, strength and reflexes, but his body didn’t really feel like his own at the moment, he felt clumsy, big and awkward. He’d put on a lot of muscle tone over the month he’d been in underworld and it made it worse.

But the biggest problem was that he wanted to like Spike. He was funny, although some of the jokes went over his head. He was informative, he may roll his eyes and huff a lot, but he always answered his questions. And he was, well he was Spike. But the blond confused the hell out of him. His words made him feel like something scraped off of a shoe, but sometimes his looks made him feel ten feet tall. Not looks he got when they were consciously looking at each other, but the looks Spike occasionally gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking; like when he mastered a move, or caught on to a line of thinking quickly. There was pride there, he knew it.

The clock in the other room chirped again and Angel shook himself. He was going to be late if he didn’t get a move on. Snagging a towel from the rail he tied it around his waist and grabbed another for his hair. The next ten minutes were a blur of trying to do too many things at once, but he finally emerged from his rooms with only a graze on his tongue and a stubbed toe. He’d tied his hair back tightly with a length of thin leather at the base of his skull and the still damp ends left a water mark on the back of his tight white t shirt. His heavy work boots thudded on the carpeted hallways as he ran towards the children’s wing.

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

Over the years the Hyperion had expanded past the boundaries of the original hotel and now covered what was once three city blocks. None of the buildings were as tall or as imposing as the Hyperion itself and a large area of ground behind the hotel had been flattened and landscaped into a playground and park attached to the children’s wing. Fences at least two stories high - 10 stories in places - surrounded the low-lying parts of the compound and were topped with a course metal mesh. From the inside it was easy to forget that the Hyperion was in fact a fort, a fort that expected attacks from above as well as from the street.

The children’s wing itself was bright, cheerful and colourful and one wall of the dining hall was lined with windows looking out onto the park. The other walls were decorated with a peeling mural Painted some 60 years before. Someone who obviously cared deeply but was just a tad over zealous had incorporated the slogan "Tis better to Light a Candle than Curse the Darkness" surrounded by a dozen crudely drawn smiling children’s faces, each illuminated by candle light. The overall effect had probably been more inspirational once upon a time, but now the paint was so faded and peeled that in certain lights some of the faces took on a gruesome look. The worst of the peeled faces higher up the walls had been covered with large posters designed by past generations of children, while the lower walls were slowly being redesigned by year after year of little vandals. But although the walls may have seen better days, the furniture in the room all appeared to be new. Large brightly coloured, plastic topped, square tables filled the room surrounded by matching chairs, and at the far end of the hall serving stations and self service counters sat under signs that pushed the values of healthy eating. It could have been any canteen or dining hall in the world, if you didn’t look too closely.

Angel sighed and put down his screwdriver. Six broken chairs, two broken tables and a hole in the floor where an infant Duflux demon had vomited and melted the linoleum. The big clock on the wall above the serving stations said it had been over three hours since he’d sat down in this very same room to have breakfast with Emily. Over three hours since he’d arrived late to find his daughter had already gone down to breakfast and was sitting at a table with her new best friend and her mother. Not that he minded Connie or Mrs Quixnar, even despite that fact they were both lilac skinned and had spines instead of hair. Only, this morning it seemed to drive home just how much easier Emily seemed to be adapting.

But that was to be expected really wasn’t it? Emily wasn’t old enough to see the difference between people. If someone was roughly the same height and wanted to share their toys then she’d play. He on the other hand was trying to get over years of indoctrination. All through school there had been educational films, talks with severe looking men in uniforms, oddly catching songs about running away and telling mom and dad, then later lectures on a young American’s duty and responsibility, and about the dangers of impurity. The most Emily had been exposed to was the occasional children’s book about the big bad demon who ate grandmothers in cottages and games of pin the target on the demon or whack a hybrid at the fair ground.

Angel shook his head and refocused his attention on the broken chair in front of him. It was going to be one of those days it seemed. Once upon a time he was a pretty laid back guy, the most he had to worry about was which colour flowers to buy Darla on the way back from work, or if buying that stuffed animal in the store window for Emily would make Darla accuse him of spoiling the child again. Now his brain never seemed to stop and on days like these he could easily drive himself to fret. He drew a deep breath through his nose and instantly regretted it.

The stench of disinfectant, burnt linoleum, old food and assorted demons flooded his senses and made his eyes cross. It was hard to work out which scent was most repugnant to his nose; Duflux demon vomit, the amalgamated scent of various dishes being cooked in the kitchens or Terry. Considering that Terry was only a few feet away tinkering with one of the refrigerated counters he assumed it was probably him. It wasn’t his fault either; the bright blue, eight foot, exceedingly hairy electrical engineer was a Solfesa demon, and naturally smelled like an old lavatory carpet.

Angel let his eyes drift away from Terry to the other people in his work crew. Apart from Terry, the only other skilled member of their team was Del, their foreman, and then there were the four lackeys; Rolo, Kanich, Pete and himself. From behind, Rolo and Kanich looked human, but as soon as the twins turned, the pointed faces, black almost beady eyes and slightly pointed ears were less reminiscent of human, and slightly more reminiscent of Weasel. But unlike Terry who’d introduced himself as "Terry, Solfesa demon, sorry about the smell," the twins had yet to divulge what species they were, and Angel hadn’t asked.

Pete and Del were both human, in the sense that if you looked and smelled at least 90% human in Underworld then that’s probably what you were. Pete had only been in Underworld a month longer than Angel, Del on the other hand, had been born not five blocks away from the Hyperion. Angel liked Del; the man had been welcoming, patient, and undemanding. Pete meanwhile, made Angel’s face and fists itch. It could have had something to do with fact that the man took every opportunity to skive off, or the fact that after watching the Star Wars trilogy in the rec room one night, he insisted on calling Terry ‘Chewie’. But mostly it was because the man, upon finding out what Angel was, had pointedly taken to turning his collar up whenever Angel entered a room. Angel knew he was still struggling to adapt, but at least he was trying. Pete thought he was god’s gift, he was the kind of man, when faced with the fact that his species could quite probably be considered a minority group in some parts, still insisted on pronouncing ‘negro’ with a two g’s. He was, in short, the kind of man for whom the word ‘bigot’ had been invented.

Angel blinked. Whenever his thoughts turned to Pete he found that he actually gave the man reason to want to turn up his collar, because he found his gaze drawn inexorably to the man’s neck. Not because he had any desire to bite it, no, break it, hell yes. He looked away sharply, and in so doing caught sight of the main doors as Willow and Tara stepped through. Del looked round at the same moment and smiled.

"We’re just about done here Miss McClay."

"T…Tara please." Tara stammered back, a blush rising in her cheeks as it did every time Del insisted on calling her Miss McClay. The man may have been north of forty, but he was charmer, and could reduce even the most hardened of bitches to blush and stammer just by smiling. "We were wondering if we could steal Angel a little early today"

Del shrugged, "Sure," He nodded over to Angel who was already rushing to finish the chair he was working on so he could leave. "See you tomorrow son, have fun."

Angel smiled his thanks and stood, receiving another nod from Del, a wave from the ever silent twins, and a grunt that could have been ‘catch ya later kid’ from what should have been Terry but appeared to be a talking mass of tangled wiring. Pete sneered. Angel ignored him.

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

They been walking through the maze of corridors in silence for a while when Willow and Tara shared a worried look and the redhead laid a hand on Angel’s shoulder. Angel startled at the contact and then smiled sheepishly; he’d been lost in thought again.

"you ok?" Willow asked worriedly. "You’re awful quiet."

"A lot on my mind," Angel returned with a shrug.

"Wonna talk about it?"

"It’s nothing... just… just stuff… you know…" Angel tried to articulate lamely.

Willow and Tara nodded understandingly, Willow with the look of someone who’d seen it all before with hundreds of refugees, and Tara with a look that said ‘been there, done that, bought the T-shirt, had the panic attack’.

"So…" Angel scrambled for a topic "Does Giles need to see me or something? Did he find out anything new I need to know?"

"What?" Willow blinked, confused. "no! Goddess, didn’t mean to give you a fright, Tara and I both got out to lunch early and we thought you’d like to join us."

Angel smiled with genuine surprised gratitude. He ate lunch with the two women almost everyday, but he’d always put it down to the fact that their lunch breaks coincided and since he didn’t know many people they felt bad about leaving him to eat alone. He really liked the two women, and was always impressed by their close friendship; they seemed inseparable, like a married couple. And he owed them both so much. Willow had saved Emily’s life, and had agreed to have them both on her patient list despite there being plenty of other doctors and her schedule was packed to bursting. Tara headed the advanced abilities unit in the children’s wing, but had taken it upon herself to mentor Angel in self-control and meditative disciplines in order to help him get a better control on his demon side. That they’d sought out his company put the spring back in his step that had been missing for most of the day.

"Thanks" He said finally, and then grinned conspiratorially, "d’ya think we might actually get there early enough today to get something half edible?"

Willow raised an eyebrow incredulously "in our canteen?"

The trio shared a mental image of the main dining hall’s usual lunch time offering and shuddered.

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

Angel looked down at what was supposed to be beef stew and pushed the bowl away. He was pretty sure Beef stew wasn’t supposed to have similar properties to quick dry cement. At least the fruit salad looked nice. He reached for the sealed plastic bottle which bore his name in large slightly smudged letters and twisted the cap as he eyed the multicoloured dessert speculatively.

He’d just taken his second swing when he noticed the continuous chatter between Willow and Tara had stopped. They were looking at him with proud smiles.

"See I knew you could do it," Willow beamed.

"Huh?" Angel replied bewildered.

"Drinking blood without being all self conscious, told you you’d get used to it."

Angel looked at the bottle in his hand, and self consciousness returned like bad beef stew. He hadn’t even realised he’d done it; he was hungry, the stew looked about as appetising as rancid dog food and he’d just reached out and… Where, oh where was a gaping chasm when you need one to swallow you?

"Willow!" Tara hissed, "You’ve embarrassed him now!"

Embarrassed was the wrong word, and it wasn’t shame either, it was something in between. Drinking blood was something he could deal with when he was alone; it was like masturbation, people knew that it was done, couldn’t be avoided but… it was dirty, obscene, certainly never talked about and you never ever did it in public. By drinking in front of the entire lunch hall (even though the only people actually paying him any attention were Willow and Tara) he felt like he’d just stood on his chair, waved a flag and shouted "look at me! I’m a Vampire!"

The women were looking at him again; Tara with concern and Willow looked so wretchedly apologetic that he couldn’t bring himself to be upset. He smiled wanly, taking another swig while attempting to hide his grimace.

"I’m getting better,"

Willow smiled lamely back; the easy conversation had now officially been given last rights and was awaiting burial. Angel put the cap back on the bottle and tried to busy himself with the fruit salad as a way to avoid their gazes. It went boing and wobbled suspiciously when his spoon touched it.

"Well this day certainly can’t get any worse." Angel muttered then blinked as he realised he’d said it out loud. His eyes flicked to Willow’s and he groaned at her expression.

"Actually…" She started…

…And Tara finished, "We n..need to warn you about Spike."

~Part: 8~

Spike stormed down the corridor, his face set in a mask of rage; one fist balled so tight his knuckles were white, the other gripping a sheet of paper so it crumpled under the pressure. Someone was coming down the corridor towards him; they smiled, saw his face, and skittered into a nearby doorway to get out of his way. His step didn’t even falter when he reached the large double doors at the end of the hallway; he simply raised his free hand and barrelled through. The doors banged back loudly on their hinges.

The room could have been an office, or it could have been a library. Book shelves lined the walls from the floor to the ceiling two stories up. A gallery ran around the outside of the room on the second level. As Spike strode through the room he paid little attention to the large conference table off to one side, and instead headed for the desk at the far end.

Giles looked up from behind a book as the noise of the doors reverberated around the room. He leaned back in his chair and watched the furious young man stomp towards him. His features were schooled into an indifferent mask, but that was all it was; a mask. He’d been expecting this confrontation, but certainly didn’t relish it. A long time ago, he and Spike could hold civil conversations for hours; these days they were lucky if they made it past the fifteen minute mark before something set Spike off. Years ago, William had sat for hours in the library his nose in a book. Now Spike only ever ventured into Giles’ personal sanctuary if pushed.

When Spike reached the desk, he slammed the hand holding the paper flat on the desk and growled. "Explain! Now!"

Giles waited until Spike had moved his hand then picked up the sheet of paper and scanned it casually. "What seems to be the problem, Spike?"

"The problem??? The problem is that that list is lacking one bloody name! MINE!"

"Spike…" Giles sighed. "Your name isn’t on this list because your services will not be required on this mission."

"Not re… I’ve been flying the GRC mission for six YEARS! Since when are my services not REQUIRE?"

"It may have escaped your notice, Spike, but you are in fact, grounded."

"GROUNDED! How dare you! I’m not 15 anymore you can’t just…" Spike burst with righteous indignation.

"I believe that I was referring to the fact that your ship cannot fly. Unless of course you know more than I, and Harris has been able to conjure the parts needed out of the ether in the last hour."

Spike’s jaw tightened and his words came out clipped and dripping with anger. "We. Have. Other. Ships."

"We also have other pilots. Davis’ record is exemplary. He has nearly twice the air time you do and seems perfectly capable of completing this mission." Giles returned easily. "And also, I hasten to point out, actually turned up for his annual medical this year. Something, I am told, you did not."

"Davis couldn’t find his arse with both hands!" Spike hissed, ignoring the comment about his medical.

"William! This is not open for debate! Davis will pilot this month’s GRC mission. You meanwhile, WILL continue training Mr Keeley in our absence, am I making myself quite clear!?"

Giles sat stock still until the doors slammed shut behind Spike’s angry retreat. He listened for the string of curses, and sighed wearily when he heard a plant pot smash against the wall of the hallway outside. Eventually the sounds of Spike’s destructive ire faded down the hall and Giles lowered his head to hands.

William had been such a dear child, but it seemed that Underworld had killed him as surely as Upperworld had killed his mother. To Giles it felt as if the boy William had gone to bed one night, more than likely with his battered but much beloved copy of the Hobbit, and simply never woken again. Instead, in his place, was Spike; cold, mercenary, arrogant, cocky but most of all angry. He practically burned with it. Spike wore his anger like a cloak; he radiated it like the fires of hell. It oozed from every pore; he vibrated with it.

And in some ways, he hid behind it. No one got close to Spike. Oh he had friends; Faith, Willow, Gunn. And he took lovers; the list was so long Giles didn’t even think about trying to keep up with it. But that was just it. When he’d started dating, Giles had hoped fervently that one of the boys whose names occasionally got brought up at the dinner table, or whose faces he would sometimes see disappearing into Spike’s room, would be the one to help Spike open up. But he hadn’t even tried. Spike tossed aside his lovers like socks after a single wearing; maybe he’d pick them up again, but eventually they’d just be lost in a sea of other used socks.

Reaching down, Giles opened his bottom desk draw and pulled out a slim file. He laid it on the desk and flicked it open, pulling a few photos out and placing them carefully on the tabletop. Innocent blue eyes smiled out at him from beneath floppy blond hair, his own younger, proud face always close by. Slowly the boy in the pictures changed; harder eyes, lighter hair, darker clothes. And then the final picture, just a few months old. There were no smiles now, his own face creased with age and worry, the boy now a man, his face chiselled and etched with too much maturity, cynicism and anger.

Giles continued to stare at the photos; he didn’t need to read the content of the file anymore. Why would he? He knew the content by heart. All it held were a few drawings, a few poems and a certificate; a certificate declaring one Rupert Giles as the legal parent and guardian of one William Lawson – Thomas.

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

Spike stood in the middle of the training room and tapped his foot impatiently. Angel was late. Angel was late. He wasn’t sure which was bothering him most. Here he was, wasting his time, trying to train up Giles’ new pet project. The deal was he trained Mr Keeley for a month and then after the next GRC mission he’d be free to get back to what he did best; fly.

But oh no, Harris had to go and tell Giles that Dru had a dodgy fuel pump. Dru had had a dodgy fuel pump for as long as he’d had her. Hell, Dru always had something wrong with her; that was her charm. If she’d been a person, she’d have been a complete nut job. What she needed was a special touch. Didn’t matter what was wrong, if you treated her right, she’d fly like a bird.

What the hell was Harris doing talking to Giles anyway? Treachery, that’s what it was; pure, undiluted treachery. Maybe the boy had a date, or wanted to watch something on the telly tomorrow night. Or maybe Giles had come to him. Yeah, that sounded about right. Interfering git. Probably didn’t want his precious little find to be left alone.

Spike wasn’t actually prone to bouts of paranoia, but his anger and frustration at having been on the ground so long made him actively seek out someone to blame. Flying was his life, his freedom in a claustrophobic world. It was how he made his money; it was something he could be proud of. He won races, regularly smuggled contraband and had never been caught. (Except by Giles but the older man had simply rolled his eyes and demanded a cut went into the resistance’s funds.) The lame, but amazingly successful line "wonna see my ship?" had made sure that his cabin onboard had seen more passing traffic than a stop sign in rush hour. And when someone decided they wanted more than a shag in the captain’s chair, and a cold refusal didn’t work, he could take Dru and spend a few days just… flying… Away; away from the city and the people and the expectations.

He didn’t consider himself noble or heroic. He flew missions for the resistance because he was the best there was, knew how to keep his mouth shut, wasn’t afraid of a little danger and most of all, they paid well. But lately, just lately, it hadn’t been about the money. He’d been going because he just… wanted to. And when he’d seen his name off the list, well he’d tried for 30 seconds to convince himself it didn’t matter, and he could make up the money when Dru got airborne again. But it hadn’t worked. They hadn’t wanted him to fly, and that hurt.

He was pacing now, chewing a thumb nail while one fist clenched and unclenched reflexively. As he spun to march towards the door, he saw Angel tentatively poke his head around it. Much like the first time he saw him, Spike was struck with just how (unfairly) handsome the hybrid was. But at the same moment that the treacherous thoughts drifted up from somewhere below the waist, conflicting and anger fuelled thoughts trickled like ice down his spine. Here was the reason he wasn’t flying. So as the thoughts met, exchanged pleasantries then started to beat the holy hell out of each other somewhere underneath conscious thought, his conscious mind spent a split second in absolute abject confusion. But Spike didn’t do confusion well; it made him angry, and the angry part of him didn’t like Angel very much at that moment.

"What the hell kind of time do you call this?!?!?"

"Um sorry. Willow...she... uh...I am sorry." Angel stumbled, wincing and bracing himself for the onslaught he'd completely expected, and had still futilely hoped to avoid. Rather upset they’d said. In a very bad mood. Angel took one look at Spike’s face and had to fight very hard to resist the urge to run far, far away. He looked as he'd imaged a volcano might look, just before it popped its lid and decimated scores of small island villages.

Spike didn’t say another word for a long time, but seethed silently with his tongue trapped between his teeth in an effort not to explode. They warmed up in silence and then faced off to spar. Angel tried not to look at him, but still caught the narrow eyed disdainful expression that Spike wore. He knew the sparring routine well now, and knew how to react when Spike made the first move. He blocked, it was the first thing Spike had taught him, but where usually Spike at least grunted his approval at blocking the blow, all he got now was a derisive snort and another follow up blow which wasn’t in their usual routine.

He blocked. Another came. He took a step back. Spike took a step forward.

Angel blinked; bad move. "Spike wha…"

The blow caught him on the chin and he stumbled. Spike had his legs out from under him before he realized what had happened.

"Pathetic" Spike sneered, tsked and turned away. Angel looked down; no snide remark about whether he was a demon or door mouse could ever have been as demoralizing as that tsk.

"Get Up!"

Angel looked back up as Spiked loomed over him.

"I said get up!" Spike growled and Angel obeyed, confused.

"If I’m going to waste my time, training a loser like you I may as well make it worth it. Don’t just stand there! You’ve got to learn how to fight, so FIGHT! HIT ME!"

Angel swallowed; so far their lessons had been in defence, not offence. Oh he’d been taught various moves, how to make a fist, how to throw a punch so you didn’t break your own wrist and so on, but he’d never actually hit a person before, only a punch bag. He balled his fist, braced his feet, all as he’d been told, and punched.

Spike’s head snapped round, Angel flinched. Spike uncricked his neck turning it from side to side and grinned. Angel took another step back; he was smart enough to know that the grin he was facing was probably something similar to what drowning sailors saw. It usually had a fin on top.

"Much better!" There was maniacal quality to Spike’s voice now.

More of the earlier conversation with Willow and Tara crept unbidden into Angel’s mind. "He gets like this sometimes, he bottles things up. Usually he just goes off for a couple of days… but he can’t right now… and we just thought it best we warned you not to provoke him."

"Spike, I know that things aren’t…" Angel tried reason; not a wise move.

Something that had been under tension inside Spike for far too long snapped. A month of being on the ground, four weeks of unsatisfying shags because of the face of a certain hybrid lurking at the back of his mind. Years of pain and hurt and confusion that fuelled the ever-present well of anger unleashed at once. The chains broke. At the centre of Spike’s being there was a place where something dark lived. It was the part that had allowed him to survive the bullies when he’d first arrived in Underworld, when he’d been too shy, too bookish, too sensitive, and too different to the children who’d grown up in this harsh world. It was the part that kept him alive on the numerous surface missions and the slightly more frequent drunken wrong turns into unfriendly demon neighbourhoods. It had fought off more than one overly aggressive would be one-night stand and now it surfaced, sniffed the air and smelled blood.

"What the hell do YOU KNOW!" Spike roared and leapt. Four weeks of training was nothing compared to years of street fighting. Angel blocked and dodged as best he could, but he was well aware of two crucial factors; the first being that Spike was now between him and door, and the second was that Spike was pushing him slowly, step by step closer to the back wall of the training room.

"Spike…"

"What? You think just because you’re a demon that you know?!? You don’t know anything!"

Angel’s back hit the wall as the blows continued to come but he wasn’t blocking any more. Trapped, injured and faced with blind fury Angel froze. The hard concrete behind him, inevitable pain in front and escape impossible. The situation was hauntingly familiar. Memories of beatings, of desperate pleas for mercy and unheeding captors, of fists and feet that would not relent until he lay still and silent crashed into his mind and wrapped around his brain like a vice.

"FIGHT ME!"

Spike’s fist connected with Angel’s face. The smell of his own blood burst like fireworks across his senses. Whether to Spike’s demand or to his own near terror he didn’t know, but he reacted. His body worked on its own accord, his face shifting, the demon’s power surging through his body like a tidal wave.

When Spike’s next blow came, Angel didn’t just block it, he caught it. Time seemed to slow; Angel looked up, Spike’s balled fist still trapped in his hand. Amber gold met Crystal blue. The air crackled. Something clicked. Angel squeezed.

Time returned. Angel’s free hand struck Spike in a viscous back hand. Spike’s knee came up and Angel bent double as the blond danced away shaking his hand and grinning insanely.

"Now that’s more like it!"

Angel growled low in his chest and stalked forward, predatory instinct rattling around his head. They circled each other, Angel’s threatening growls the only sound in the room. The world, reason and sanity became distant forces, irrelevant to the dance. By some unknown accord, they struck at the same moment.

There was no finesse, no calculation. They slammed from wall to wall, inflicting damage where they could. Angel clearly had the superior strength but Spike was no stranger to fighting dirty. He had speed and skill, and where he’d been training Angel by the rules, in some practical areas, Spike had no rules what so ever.

Clothes tore, flesh bruised. Spike went to slice Angel’s legs from under him. There was a narrow beam directly above his head. He leapt, caught it with both hands, swung…

And landed on his feet perfectly balanced behind Spike.

They both turned and stared at each other for a fraction of a second before the fight continued. Spike threw himself backwards into a handstand, bringing his foot up to connect with Angel’s chin. Angel’s head snapped back, but sudden insight made him go with it, pushing his feet off from the floor and turning what could have been a neck snapping blow into a summersault that once again landed him on his feet, this time crouched.

He looked up to see Spike in a mirrored position. He was grinning. Angel grinned back. The mood was irrevocably changed now. The anger had gone and in its place was pure masculine competitiveness.

They charged.

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

Angel stared at the hole and then down at Spike and back again.

"Whoa," Faith said from beside him.

"And so say all of us." Angel muttered. He couldn’t quite believe the last 30 seconds had happened. He and Spike had been… fighting, sparring, he wasn’t sure which, and then somehow Spike had got behind him and… pulled his hair! Well that had pissed him off, and Angel could only assume it was Faith coming into the room that had distracted Spike, because when he’d spun and kicked out Spike hadn’t been paying attention and the kick had caught him square in the chest. The next thing he knew Faith was running towards him and Spike was flying through the air, and ultimately right through the training room wall.

Spike shifted on the floor, dislodging a piece of broken plasterboard.

"Are you two morons going to stand there forever or is one of you going to help me up?" He grumbled groggily.

Angel animated and rushed forward, pulling bits of wood and plaster from Spike and helping him to his feet. "God… I am so sorry. I didn’t… how… jeeze, I’m so sorry."

"Guess you got to fly today after all." Faith said numbly, still staring at the hole.

"You’re a laugh a minute, really" Spike muttered pulling a lump of insulating foam from his hair.

"Are you ok?" Angel asked worriedly.

Spike rubbed his chest wincing. "I think the wall took most of it…" He said absently. Then he looked up at Angel. "Your face is bloody."

Angel wiped his nose on the back of his hand and grimaced. "Yeah… ummm… so’s yours."

Spike giggled. "Heeee… war paint!"

"Ooookay, I think Spike’s had bit of a bang to the head," Faith butted in, hooking her arm through Spike’s. "Let’s go see Willow, yeah?" She cast an eye over Angel as she turned and frowned. "You gonna be OK? Or do ya wonna come with us?"

As if on cue, Angel swayed, the adrenaline high was wearing off and allowing other things to register in his brain; blood loss, for example.

Faith sighed, hooked her free arm through one of Angel’s and led the pair out through the hole into the hall.

"My heroes"

~Part: 9~

He was stood in the Hyperion’s lobby. The lights in the room seemed both exceptionally bright and too dark to see by. Sound was conspicuous by its absence. The room was heaving with people, all moving as if on fast forward, or perhaps he was the one that was slow, time having collapsed around him.

He blinked, the world changed. Crimson light reflected off pools of blood. It dripped down the walls of the now empty lobby, trickling around the corpses and broken furniture that littered the floor. The shadows danced in shades of green, mocking the brilliant moonlight that sparkled through the blood stained windows. He blinked again, people swarmed around him once more.

There's a chair,
In my head,
On which I used to sit
Took a pencil and I wrote,
The following on it.

But the scene was different. On the round couch in the lobby’s centre sat Spike. The icy blue eyes were boring into him and pulled him forward. As he got closer he noticed that Spike seemed to be flickering, like two people were trying to inhabit the same space; one was the Spike he knew, the other was Spike too, but softer, younger, with wavy blond hair and startlingly innocent eyes.

Now there's a key
Where my wonderful mouth used to be.

“I saw blood,” he said even though it wasn’t what he’d planned to say at all.

Dig it up, throw it at me
Dig it up, throw it at me.

Spike, or maybe the Spikes, smirked at him. “If you were 400 years old, you’d have lots of memories too, pet.” Even the voice seemed to be two people at once. One voice hard, the other soft; such contrast yet they spoke in melodic harmony. The Spikes gazed around with a fond smile and then turned back to him. “She knows so much, if you listen she’ll tell you her secrets.”

Where can I run to,
Where can I hide?
Who will I turn to,
Now I'm in a virgin state of mind?

“I don’t understand…” He began but the Spike’s raised a finger to his lips.

“Shhhh… just listen”

Got a knife to disengage,
The voids that I can't bear.
To cut out words,
I've got written,
On my chair.

Listen to what? The place was eerie in its absolute silence, not even his feet had made a sound as he walked; he couldn’t even hear his own breathing. But then he did hear it, so faint it was hardly there. He turned towards the sound and gasped. Sitting on the lobby counter was Spike and… himself. They were talking, laughing, each with a bottle of beer in hand. He couldn’t make out the words, but he didn’t think he needed to. He watched himself say something and watched Spike laugh and elbow him gently. The shy smile he watched himself give the blond made him blush. He turned back to the Spikes but they weren’t there anymore.

Like do you think I'm sexy
Do you think I really care
Can I burn the mazes I grow
Can I, I don't think so

They were now standing very close to Spike and his other self. They were watching him, unblinkingly.

“Why are you fighting?” They asked.

“You told me to.” He replied confused.

“You can’t see it can you?” The Spikes said sadly.

Again the words seemed to come from somewhere else, like he was an actor reading lines.

“I’m blind, how am I supposed to see?”

Can I burn the mazes I grow
Can I, I don't think so

The Spikes laughed. “You’re not blind pet, you just haven’t opened your eyes yet.”

“I don’t know how!” he whined desperately. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to see!”

“Just try” The Spikes replied, not unkindly. They walked towards him and reached up, laying their palm across his eyes, closing them. “Try”

Where can I run to,
Where can I hide?
Who will I turn to,
Now I'm in a virgin state of mind?

When he felt the hand move away he opened his eyes…

 Fell to his knees and screamed.

Virgin state of mind
Virgin state of mind
Virgin state of mind

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

Rain fell in rainbows. Clouds caught below the vast new surface mingled with the potent magics making the rain fall like multicoloured oil. A drop hit the end of Spike’s cigarette and flared brightly. Purple smoke rose from the blue flame and coiled into the shape of dragon that snapped and hissed at Spike’s fingers until it dissipated in the breeze. When he took his next drag the smoke tasted of peppermint.

 ULA was coming awake before his eyes. False dawns illuminated windows across the sprawling metropolis. The rain banged off Drusilla’s hull, her wing Spike’s only protection from the increasing storm. His head hurt. His feet were getting wet. He wasn’t exactly sulking, he just happened to be up on the roof. It certainly had nothing to do with making sure that Giles, Willow and Gunn got away alright for the mission. And most certainly had nothing to do with him hiding on the roof hoping Davis would be struck by lightning.

 The spent cigarette dropped over the parapet wall. It turned into a butterfly before it past the third floor. It was a pile of ash by the time it hit the ground. Underworld rain really was weird. He lit another.

 “ooh twosies?”

Spike handed over the cigarette to Faith without looking round. He hadn’t heard her approach, but he’d been expecting it.

 "No fatal accidents that left an opening for a pilot then I see.”

Spike didn’t reply just kept looking out over the rain swept city.

Faith raised an eyebrow as she studied her best friend. She took a drag. “how’s the head?”

“Still attached.”

“But…” Faith prompted.

Spike grinned. “Hurts like merry hell.”

“Do I get to see this foot print shape bruise too?”

Spike rolled his eyes and turned, rolling up his T-shirt to reveal a bruise the exact size and shape of Angel’s foot, just below his ribcage.

Faith sucked in a breath through her teeth. “Nasty.”

“s’not as bad as it looks.” Spike said as he put his T-shirt back in place. “’ad worse.”

Faith nodded, she could remember when he’d had worse, but still… “He kicked you through a wall.” She grinned, “Man, I wish I’d had a camera.”

“One day, you and me gonna have words about your pain kink.”

“Relax blondie, I don’t have a pain kink, I just like seeing you get knocked on your ass now and then.”

“Charmin’”

They stood in silence watching ULA for a while, passing the cigarette back and forth until Faith flicked it out into the darkness.

“Sorry I couldn’t hang around last night.”

Spike chuckled. “No you’re not.”

Faith grinned in the darkness. “No I’m not.”

“So…” Spike prompted.

Faith made a dreamy sound and turned round so she was leaning on the wall. “Penthouse, with a Jacuzzi.”

Spike mirrored her position. “Nice. Put it to good use did you?”

“Oh yeah…”

“Seein’ ‘im again then?”

Faith shook her head and made an affronted face. “Hell no…”

Spike raised an inquiring eyebrow and she lifted her hand, waggling her little finger, before making it droop pointedly. Spike pulled an appropriately disgusted face, then slung his arm around her shoulders. “There there luv, just goes to show, you can’t have everything…”

Faith snorted. “Yeah, tell me about it… and hey what did you do last night? You were going to meet me in Sunnydale! Meet someone on the way maybe?”

Now it was Spike’s turn to snort. “I wish, Red wouldn’t let me out of the infirmary for bleedin hours! Then my noggin hurt too much so I wound up sittin in front of the telly ‘til I fell asleep. God, that makes me sound old.”

Faith chuckled then yawned. “I need sleep.”

Spike pushed off the wall with his arm still around Faith’s shoulders. “Come on then mutt, your basket awaits.”

Faith elbowed him in the ribs. “Watch it, or I’ll get Angel to kick you through another wall.”

Spike just rolled his eyes, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to live down his little wall cavity expedition for some time.

“Giles was mad.” Faith mumbled sleepily as they headed for the roof door.

“Yep”

“You going to pay him for the damage?”

“Nope”

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

Angel leant against the door way to the room Emily shared with three other girls. It wasn’t very late, not by his standards anyway, but the girls were all fast asleep. He wasn’t surprised. He hadn’t realised how much the children did all day and he couldn’t help but wonder if Emily found the weekends she spent with him a little boring. She’d never complained though, so maybe she enjoyed the rest.

He smiled as she turned in her sleep, groping for something in the bed then finally wrapping her tiny arms around a large soft toy. For the first time since he’d kicked Spike through that wall he was actually glad he’d done it. After all, with Spike not able to attend their usual training session he’d been able to spend the afternoon with his baby girl. But… He felt like he’d betrayed her somehow. There he was with his little girl all excited about spending extra time with her daddy, and he hadn’t been able to concentrate.

She’d picked him up on it too. Emily Keeley was many things but oblivious was not one of them. A number of times he’d surfaced from his thoughts only to find her standing, arms crossed over her chest, bottom lip stuck out and brows creased, having had to call him over and over to get his attention.

He had tried to focus, but it wasn’t easy. His thoughts seemed to be running in circles, or more precisely running in spirals, because they always ended up in the same place. The fight. The fight with Spike. Those intense couple of hours that had changed… everything, but at the same time changed nothing at all.

He felt different. Calmer, less alien in his own skin. It had been like squeezing a spot; it hurt at first but then the sudden release of pressure made it all worthwhile. On the other hand it was disturbing, frightening. He’d never been a violent person; he didn’t even like raising his voice. But he’d enjoyed it; he’d enjoyed the rush of power he felt when a blow connected, the freedom to move and express and the knowledge that he was fast enough, strong enough, man enough to fight back.

Was that what it was all about? Had he been trying to prove something? If so, what? And to whom?

“M.Maybe you just needed to vent?”

Angel yelped and spun as his thoughts were interrupted by the soft voice. Tara ducked her head, then looked up, placed a finger to her lips and nodded her head at the door way, indicating they should move away so as not to disturb the children. Angel took one last look at Emily before following the blonde down the hallway to her office, all the while staring intently at her back. If she was reading his thoughts now, she wouldn’t find the content pleasant where she was concerned.

As soon as the door clicked shut behind him, Angel glared at the witch and hissed. “You never said you could read minds!”

“I.I can’t!” It was Tara’s turn to yelp then she pulled herself up, not willing to appear the frightened mouse. “You keep rubbing the bruise on your cheek! I guessed!”

Angel slumped onto the small couch and groaned. “Sorry…”

Tara sat down in an armchair opposite him, folding her hands in her lap and leaning forward slightly. Angel felt the tension drain for his body in the face of her reassuring and open face encouraging him to talk, but he felt blocked, like he couldn’t form the words. Tara offered him a sympathetic smile and spoke softly. “This is about the fight with Spike isn’t it? Willow told me what happened.”

Angel shrugged. “I just… I know I should feel bad… but I don’t… and… What if, what if I’m dangerous? What if I start attacking people??!!! What if I hurt Emily!???”

“Angel shhhh…. Calm down. You aren’t d.dangerous.” Tara rushed to reassure. “You lost control, but maybe letting go is a good thing.”

“What?” Angel scoffed, “how can kicking Spike through a wall be a good thing?”

Tara smile turned knowing as she caught Angel’s eye. “You are what you are. You’re not evil or bad, but you are a hunter.” She paused, looking down for second as she thought her words out carefully. “Keeping that part of you locked away inside, it’s not natural. What happened yesterday, Spike thought he was picking on a weak target and he found out the hard way how wrong he was. But you have to learn some control. If it helps keep that control, and Spike is willing to spar at that level with you, then don’t turn your back on the opportunity.”

“I guess,” Angel sighed.

Tara offered him another reassuring smile just a furious banging sounded on her office door. She sighed, stood and opened the door to reveal flushed looking Xander carrying a pile of Pizza boxes, with Spike and Faith leaning on the wall of the hallway behind him.

“Hey! Look we brought pizza and beer!”

“I can see that.” Tara replied with as straighter a face as she could manage.

“So… Can we crash at your place? With the wicked big TV and actual working refrigerator? Please? See we even ordered your favourite! Vegetarian special, extra cheese!”

Tara turned to face Angel and let her amusement show. “You wonna come? Save me from loud people?”

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

Angel sat on the arm of one of the couches in Tara and Willow’s apartment occasionally taking a sip from his soda. He couldn’t really see the huge flat screen TV from where he was, but he didn’t mind; he wasn’t much of a fan of the kind of high power, high death toll action epics that seemed to be the favourite of Spike, Faith and Xander.

He wasn’t alone in thinking that either by the look of things. While Faith Spike and Xander had commandeered the large couch facing the TV, the couch he was sat on was occupied by Tara, and a young skinny brunette they’d met on the way up. He wasn’t sure what to make of this girl called Fred; she seemed nice enough if a little too out there for him to really connect with. Their rather rapid and haphazard introduction had included the little tit bit information that she was Gunn’s wife but he could quite rationalise that in his head. He hadn’t seen much of the Hyperion’s head of security but what he had seen lead him to believe the guy was unbelievably tough, with little or no patience. He couldn’t imagine him being tolerant of the highly intelligent but erratic babble that the young woman spewed out at tremendous speed. But who was he to judge? They obviously worked otherwise they wouldn’t be married, or if the slight rounding in the front of her sweater was any indication, expecting a child.

Something exploded on screen and the three people actually watching the movie cheered and laughed, drawing Angel’s attention. His eyes drifted over the three and settled on Spike. His shoulders slumped. He’d been trying to get a moment alone with the blond since… well for the most of the day actually. But he hadn’t been able to find him at first and then he’d been with Emily. On the way up to the apartment he’d tried to speak to him, but Spike had been deep in conversation with Faith and Angel didn’t like to interrupt people. He just really wanted to see how he was, to apologise for what happened, and just… talk to him.

It was strange and a little disconcerting. He’d loathed the training sessions for a long while because of Spike, and yet, when Spike hadn’t shown up today he’d been disappointed. And worried. Worried that Spike was in worse shape than he’d previously thought, but more worried that Spike now hated him. His first fear was waylaid as soon as he’d seen the blonde in the hall outside Tara’s office, but his second was only being exacerbated by the fact that Spike seemed to be ignoring him. Sure Spike was watching a movie but, surely, it wasn’t too much that he could just look, briefly, in his direction? Even a hateful scowl would be better than being treated like he didn’t exist.

Angel blinked, and realised he was pouting. He scowled. Since when did he care whether or not Spike liked him? His scowl got deeper. Spike had been everything but nice to him for the last month, why the hell should he care how Spike was? Or if he hated him? Angel liked to think that with a little effort, he could get on with anybody, well at least he used to anyway. But despite the fact he didn’t like the thought of someone not liking him, he’d resolved to leave Spike in the ‘colleagues you’ll never get along with’ category some time ago.

Only, he didn’t like the thought of never getting along with Spike. And maybe it was just because he’d never actually put anyone in that rather shameful category. But the fact of the matter was, while it appeared that Spike wasn’t talking to him, he felt the same gut wrenching that he had in 6th grade when Luke Castelli had told him they weren’t friends anymore.

He sighed and looked down at his hands. His nose wrinkled in disgust; they were covered in pizza sauce. As he stood to head in to the kitchen, he glanced at Tara and Fred, but they didn’t look up from the big box that occasionally went beep and had a pair of head phones attached that they’d been discussing all night. Feeling a little agitated at being so ignored today, he sighed again and slunk out of the room.

His departure did not however, go unnoticed.

Out of the corner of his eye, Spike watched the broad back and slightly stooped shoulders until they disappeared from sight. On screen something exploded and he joined in with the required cheering but his heart wasn’t really in it. He wasn’t actually watching the movie, hadn’t been the whole time. He’d seen it so often he knew how many seconds there were between each explosion or graphically gruesome death, and besides, it was almost impossible to concentrate when someone was staring at the side of your face unwaveringly for more than half an hour. The intensity of that damned stare left him fighting off the urge to check his temple for scorch marks. Plus, it didn’t help that the whole time he was struck with the unnerving sensation that he was a mouse being looked at by a really big cat. A cat who was trying to decide whether it was vegetarian or not.

Spike hunkered down and spread himself in the soft cushions a little more. He was doing it again. He was thinking about him. His thoughts had been annoyingly one tracked of late. Not that they hadn’t been one track before, but that had been the kind of one track that a bloke could live with; Money, sex and food, and not necessarily in that order. That all three seemed now to swing around to Angel was deeply annoying. And now his pride was putting up a few noticeable objections too.

Spike wasn’t used to having his pride dented. He wasn’t the kind of guy who had an unfoundedly inflated ego; his opinion of himself was grounded in hard fact. Usually he was a gracious loser, but he’d never been beaten in a fight by someone he’d trained before. He’d also never lost it like that in front of anyone other than Faith or in a bar or street fight, where he’d needed that extra something, just to get out alive.  To lose his cool in front of someone he’d spent a month convincing himself was a complete sap, and then lose the fight? Well that just sucked.

But it got worse. He had planned a rematch in the training session that afternoon. He just couldn’t let it lie. But he’d been working on his racing ship. The tiny one seater, Starlight that spent a lot its time under a tarp in Dru’s hold, and he’d just, lost track of time. He’d lost track of time because he wasn’t actually concentrating on what he was doing but lying on a trolley underneath her thinking about Angel.

He’d been thinking about the fact that, as angry as he was about having lost the fight, it had been a good fight. An amazing fight. He’d never expected in his wildest dreams that Angel could fight like that, that he’d paid such close attention to everything he’d been taught. He’d trained a few refugees over the years, but to his amazement he realised that Angel had actually listened to him, learned from him.

He closed his eyes and drew a sharp breath as a memory replayed itself in vivid Technicolor in his mind’s eye. Amber eyes. Amber eyes filled with raw passion and fire. He’d thought Angel was dull and insipid? Those eyes told a completely different story. One of depths untapped, of mischief and malice, of power and determination. He could imagine himself bringing that passion to the surface in a far more gratifying way than a brawl, hell he’d thought it quite graphically last night in the shower.

But that brought him back to being pissed off. Because he didn’t need to jack off in the shower. He had a list as long as his arm of people who’d bend over for at a mere glance. He was obsessing over a guy who didn’t just appear to be as straight as an arrow, but the least sexually driven male on the planet. He’d watched Angel surreptitiously over the last month and he didn’t seem to be interested in anyone. Even gay guys took the opportunity to give faith a quick once over when they met her, it was something about universal maleness, but Angel may as well have been looking at a lump of cheese whenever they talked. Nothing, not a flicker.

He suddenly got a mental image of Angel finding a lump of cheese attractive and scrunched his eyes shut, using two fingers to rub up the bridge of his nose to his forehead and down again. All this was giving him a headache, hell he was going to need serious therapy if he didn’t sort himself out soon. He needed a beer, more than one, lots, enough to get paralytically drunk and then pass out for… a couple of years maybe.

Faith and Xander cast him confused looks as he hauled himself out of his seat and without glancing back, wondered towards the kitchen. When he got there he found Angel standing at the sink, glaring at it venomously. He paused in confusion, and then he shook his head, wondered over and flicked a small lever on the side of the sink. Water spurted violently from and faucet as he turned away.

Angel hurriedly turned down the pressure, groaned as he looked down at where the water had splashed his shirt then started to wash his hands. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Spike bending down to rifle through the contents of the refrigerator.

“Thanks.” He said quietly when it looked like Spike would not be talking any time soon.

There was a sigh from inside the fridge then Spike straightened grabbing a bottle opener from the counter and popped the top of his beer as he did. Angel looked away and studied his hands under the water as Spike leant against the counter frowning and taking a swig of his beer.  Unable to take the silence, Angel spoke again.

“About yesterday…”

Spike didn’t stop taking a pull, but raised an eyebrow.

“I just… I wanted… Look I’m sorry ok… I never meant…”

Spike lowered the bottle and sagged a little. He wasn’t the type to apologise usually, but he thought that he should. Angel looked so guilty and upset and well damn if that didn’t make him feel awful.

“yeah well kinda deserved it din’ I… don’t worry about it.” Silence stretched out once again and now spike felt compelled to fill it. “Good move though, a little sloppy round the edges but it did the job.”

Angel ducked his head with a shy self satisfied smile.

“Gotta work on that…” Spike mused, down to business, drawn in by the unexpected pleasure of sharing his knowledge. He rarely had much to say that people wanted to know. But Angel did want to know, Angel listened. It felt good. He tapped his bottom lip with the top of his bottle and studied Angel for a second. “Don’t be late tomorrow yeah? We got a lot to work on.”

Angel nodded as he pulled his hands out of the water. He felt a little foolish, he’d been so busy thinking how nice it was that Spike wasn’t ignoring him that he’d been standing with his hands in the sink for their whole conversation.

“Sure…”

Spike nodded thoughtfully and went to leave. Angel glanced away and in so doing remembered something that had occurred to him as he’d attempted to work out how to turn on the faucet.

“Spike?” Spike stopped and turned, so Angel took a breath and hesitantly pushed on. “You know Willow and Tara pretty well right?” Spike shrugged and raised his bottle to his lips to take another swig. “Well I was thinking… they share this place right?... Is there a room shortage or something?”

Spike chocked so violently at this that the beer he’d been about to swallow hit the opposite wall. “Bloody hell.” He gasped between wheezes and abortive laughter.

“What?” Angel asked, confused and a little hurt he was being laughed at.

Spike took a second to sort himself and turned to look at Angel’s face. Then he shook his head in amazement. “You really mean that don’t you? Bloody hell! Bloody hell!” he pinched the bridge of his nose and looked up at the ceiling in the universal gesture of ‘why me?’ “Willow I swear when I next see you I’m going to kick your bleedin’ teeth in.” With another sigh Spike pulled out a pack of smokes and lit one. “Willow and Tara don’t ‘share’ this place. They live together.”

Angel looked back at him blankly, clearly not seeing the difference. Spike tried again, slowly. “They’re partners.” Again the blank look. This was going to be hard it seemed. “They’re lesbians.”

Angel blinked and his brow crumpled. “I thought they were human?”

“No… they’re… West end thespians! Bean flickers! Rug munchers!

Angel screwed his face up as he tried to decipher what that was supposed to mean.

Spike slumped against the counter and tiredly rubbed his hands over his face. He’d come this far, and as much as the malicious side to his nature was begging him to call Tara in to explain the ins and outs of her relationship with Willow, he knew even he couldn’t be that cruel. He tried to remember what he knew about sex and the world when he was in Upperworld, but came up pitifully empty handed; he’d been at least as naïve as Angel was, with the added disadvantage of being eleven years old. Maybe if he drew on something Angel knew, then he could fill in the blanks for himself?

“They… do that thing that married people sposed to do often, but the bint usually has a headache…”

Angel was now more confused that ever. “They walk the dog?”

“They have SEX you Pratt!” Spike finally burst with exasperation. “Screw each other silly! Do the horizontal mumbo! Bump uglies! SEX!”

Angel jerked back at the explosion and his eyes widened with increasing horror at Spike’s words. Not horror because he found the thought disgusting, but horror at the utterly unknown and incomprehensible. So confused and taken off guard, he said that first thing that came to mind.

“But they’re both women.” Angel cried in confusion.

“Welcome to the real world Angelus! Sex isn’t just man and wife! Christ in a handbag! Girl on girl, man on man, threesomes, groups sex, kink, S&M! Open your Bleedin eyes! This whole place is almost a cat house the amount of fucking goes on here! You trying to tell me you ain’t noticed?!!”

“But… but.. Why? How?...” Angel whined desperately. He really didn’t understand. Sure as a teenager he and Darla had played around, but they were teenagers, stupid and irresponsible. He truly couldn’t work out why two women would have sex, because sex was for making babies and he may be a little naïve, but he knew enough to know that you needed at least one man in the equation somewhere. And the other things Spike had said either meant nothing at all or brought up questions he wasn’t sure he wanted answers to.

Unluckily, Spike was all out of tact and patience by that point. As Angel stuttered and stumbled he grinned evilly. “I think it’s about time you had a little lesson about the birds and… the birds. See when two bints get frisky…”

Angel stood slack jawed, crimson with embarrassment as Spike explained, in graphic detail, with even more graphic hand gestures exactly how two women had sex, then two men, and finally the many number of ways that sex could be had with multiple numbers of people and in one deeply disturbing example, a donkey.

By the time Spike finished his idea of adult education, Angel thought he was going to pass out; mainly because all the blood in his body was trying to be in two places at once. At least blushing wasn’t perverse. He tried to open his mouth to say something, anything, but it seemed fate was finally going to save him from ultimate mortification because Faith chose that moment to burst into the room with an excited flourish.

“Guys… You gotta hear this… Fred got the long range radio working!!”

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

It turned out to be more entertainment than any of them could have guessed. They were all gathered around the beeping box Fred had brought with her, listening to the wide range of banter that flowed across the radio waves out of range for their conventional communication equipment.

The one thing technology had not been able to compensate for thus far, was the way in which the magics holding up Upperworld interfered with radio signals. From the antenna on the roof of the tallest part of the Hyperion complex on a clear day, they could get the signal to reach about 15 miles before the interference made it incomprehensible. There had been various attempts over the last three centuries using filters and signal boosters, but the record was still unbroken at 72 miles, but then the radio itself had gone up in flames, taking its inventor and most of the city block with it. Fred had taken on the project as something to do while Gunn was away so that they could remain in contact. It would be especially useful around the time the baby was due, although she hoped he wouldn’t go away at all by that point. Secretly she’d already managed to pick up signals from as far away as 80 miles, but she had no way to confirm that, as a ship that far out would need the same equipment in order to receive any messages she sent.

Her personal breakthrough with the age old problem had come when she’d been in the early stages of her research. It had amazed her to learn that despite the magical cause of the problem, no-one had, as yet attempted to use magic to solve it. Her initial attempts had been relatively good, but she simply didn’t have the magical aptitude to construct the filters she needed, and that’s when she’d approached Willow and Tara. The two witches were the only other people to have had any idea how far she’d progressed with the project, but now the cat was well and truly out of the bag. Gathered around her, listening intently, Faith and Xander were listening in excited wonder at the sounds coming out of the small speaker.

The sounds were nothing new; it was the usual talk between cargo pilots on the main freight route between ULA and the other major US cities. Where to get a steak that hung off the sides of the plate with all the trimmings for less than a days pay, where you could pick up a decent hooker who wouldn’t beat you black and blue before running off with all your money (unless that’s what was wanted, in which case, where that could be found for less than a days pay) and reports on everything from the weather to recent bandit and pirate activities. The novelty was that they were hearing this in the city; they were hearing the idle chatter of lonely men over 200 miles away.

Spike was glad of the distraction. He was still having a hard time processing just how naïve and sheltered Angel was. Plus, he really hadn’t wanted to have a conversation with Angel about sex. Mainly because it had, as he’d known it would, confirmed a lot of what he believed about Angel’s sexuality and views on the subject. He’d never been so disappointed to be proved right in his life.

He flicked his eyes over to where Angel was sitting, as far away from him as possible. It could be his imagination of course, Angel wouldn’t be that interested in the conversations of long distance pilots and he at least had a comfy seat. He guessed he shouldn’t have dumped everything on him like that. Angel was as he was raised, he couldn’t help that. He was just one in a long line of simple honest people who were born, grew up, got married had kids, grew old, and died; slipping through life never being a nuisance to anyone and having the political and social awareness of jellyfish.

Still Angel’s face had been a riot. He wasn’t going to forget that for a good long time. He stifled a snigger, but Angel heard and looked up, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he looked away again.  Spike resisted the urge to stamp his foot. It wasn’t fair! He hadn’t had that much fun winding someone up for ages and now for some reason he couldn’t enjoy it. That one hurt look was making him feel bad. Well screw that, he didn’t do feeling bad, not about something like this.

“Hey what’s that blip-blip noise?” Xander suddenly spoke round mouthful of some kind of overly processed cake food.

Fred frowned and slipped the headphones on. “It’s not on this frequency, its overlapping. Some kind of old beacon from before the war maybe?”

Spike scowled, shaking his head. “There’s a few out there, but they’re not anywhere near the channels we use. They’re all short wave, we use long wave. Fred, see if you can get a clearer signal pet.”

Spike sat back a bit and caught Faith’s eye. The brunette looked at him in confusion and then dawning comprehension and horror. “Yeah good idea, very very good idea.”

“Hey what’s going on?” Xander whined. “left out of the loop here.”

“Distress beacon.” Spike said tensely. “Fred?”

“Its patchy, someone’s speaking… two people but its too far away… hold on…” She fiddled with something in the back of the box for a moment then returned to the headset. “I should get a clearer signal now, but only for about ten minutes.”

“Why ten minutes?”

“Coz after ten minutes the transistors will burn up like a Pyros demon in a hay barn. Now shh! I’m tryin’ to listen.”

Every one quieted and then Fred suddenly went very pale. She flicked the head set to the table and flicked the set back onto main speaker. There was hissing and crackling but then a male voice, obviously pre-recorded, began to speak.

Blip-Blip “Six… one… nine”

“What?” Xander started.

“Shh!” Faith, Fred and Spike hissed in unison then Fred whispered solemnly. “Five hours, nine minutes and 30 seconds.”

The hissing returned worse and then through the crackling a frantic female voice could be heard. “Mayday! Mayday! This is ICV Iliad requesting immediate assistance!”

“Willow!” Tara gasped, but Spike waved her into silence. There was the sound of distant gun fire and furious banging as well as a rapid argument the subject of which couldn’t be heard but could be guessed by Willow’s frightened retorts. “I can’t! I can’t! They’re blocking me!!” There was a bang and dull thud followed by a screech from Willow. The signal crackled and hissed out for a while, an eternity for those listening, then returned, the background sounds louder and tears obvious in Willow’s voice. “Mayday! Mayday! This is the ICV Iliad requesting immediate assistance! We’ve been boarded… goddess… Help us! Please help us!” A loud crash made everyone listening start but nothing would prepare them for what they heard next.

“Please Help us!!! GILES! NO!........... Let me GO!!! LET ME GO!! NO! NO! NOO-OOOOOOOOO!” Blip-blip “Six… Two… Zero.”

~Part: 10~

He felt like someone had taken all his blood away and replaced it with ice water. He couldn't move, couldn't speak, and couldn't even breathe. The only sounds in the room were Fred's desperate hiccupped sobs and the hiss-crackle from the radio. Willow's message began to play again.

"Mayday! May." Spike was out of his seat before he realised he'd moved. He saw a big on/off switch on the side and hit it; hard. He couldn't hear that again. Ice water was being replaced by something a lot hotter now. Willow, Giles, Gunn. Family.

"Xander!" Spike barked.

Xander stared up at him wide eyed. Sometimes he forgot that the boy was quite a bit younger than the rest of them.

"I want Dru. In the air. In five minutes."

"But."

"I don't care what you have to do! Bloody well strip parts out of other ships if you have to! Get. Her. In. The. Air! NOW!"

Xander took one look at Spike's determined face and ran for the door. Spike scanned the rooms four other occupants. He watched as Angel slowly stood up and looked at him curiously then he moved his gaze away. Tara, her face flushed, tears on her cheeks, but her jaw set with fierce determination; Fred, sobbing hysterically by the radio. And Faith. The brunette was also doing a scan of the room. Their eyes met; they shared a moment of perfect silent understanding and then she nodded. They were going to do this. They could do this. The beast rattled its chains.

"Fred, go 'ome! Tara! Get what supplies you need, Faith help 'er. Angel, you're with me."

The beast growled.

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

Angel kept up with Spike's pace easily as they stalked down the hallways. He didn't know what Spike wanted him to do; he didn't think he could do anything that could possibly help. He didn't really know this world. They came to a non-descript door in a hallway of other none descript doors, but he recognised Spike's scent all over it. So this was where Spike lived.

Spike didn't even bother with the key; he just kicked the door open and walked straight to the bed at the back of the small room. Angel cautiously came to stand beside him and watched as he pulled something from under the bed. That done another fierce kick had the lid off the large metal box. Angel stared down as Spike checked the contents.

"Christ!" The metal chest was full of weapons.

Spike pulled a hand gun out of the box and slid it into the back of his jeans before standing and kicking the lid shut again. When he spoke his words were tense, like he was fighting for self control. "I need someone with me who can fight. Faith can hold 'er own but I need someone who can fly the ship."

"Spike I."

"I know you can fight." Spike said and then he turned to face Angel. Their eyes met. "I don't have a lot of time, mate. You in or not?"

Angel sucked in a breath. Not because of the words but because of what flashed for a second in Spike's steely gaze. For the briefest of moments, he'd seen the Spike from his dream. The younger softer Spike and although every sense of self preservation told him that this wasn't his fight, that he had no business here, that Emily needed him, he couldn't say no.

"I've never used a weapon."

Spike smirked ferally before his fist lashed out, making Angel's head snap round. The blow was so unexpected and Angel was so on edge it brought the demon to the surface before he had a chance to control it. "You don't need one. Now 'elp me carry this."

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

Lightning crackled and crashed across the sky. The rain that had soaked Spike's feet just that morning was a mere prelude to the storm that was now beating down on the city. On the roof of the Hyperion, ICV Drusilla sputtered into life to the resounding relief of all on board. As almost hurricane force winds buffeted her from the side, and torrential rain pummelled her from above, four powerful engines roared and began to heave the bulky vessel into the sky.

On the flight deck the four occupants sat in tense silence. Sweat beaded on Spike's forehead as he struggled with the controls in the tempestuous weather. Faith watched him like a hawk, her fingers tensed over the controls, ready to do what ever he needed in order to get the ship into the sky safely. Behind Spike, Angel tried desperately to distract himself by wringing the rain water from his hair while Tara, who sat behind Faith, lowered her head in an attempt to centre her turbulent emotions. Down in the engine room Xander stood watching the various gauges, a spanner in his hand tapping a staccato rhythm on his thigh. No one dared speak.

Once the ship was clear of the other ships on the roof, Spike swallowed and began to slowly push her out into the storm. Lightning flashes were blinding as they reflected off the glittering sky scrapers, but they did nothing to lessen the murk outside. A bolt of lightning streaked down from the sky, turning a patch of the Hyperion's roof into a bubbling mass and jolting the ship side ways. The lights on board flickered for a second, then she stabilised. Five held breaths released at once.

Spike felt fingers curl into his. Faith was looking dead ahead, but he nodded anyway. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. His fingers released Faith's and slammed the throttle to full. Drusilla screamed.

She shot forward at speeds far too fast for such low altitude and conditions. She swooped through the tormented sky weaving between buildings and flashes of deadly light, climbing up into the black maelstrom above. The clouds when they reached them swallowed them whole, coating them in purple black. Sparks crackled down the ship's sides from nose to tail, cold blue fire leapt around the flight deck windows.

Angel watched in horror as it seemed to come through the windows, through bulk heads and control panels. It crackled and hissed along the top of Spike's console then up his arms, seemingly doing no damage, but terrifying none the less. He sat frozen as he watched it dance from lace hole to lace hole up his boots then began to engulf his legs. He could feel its cold chill all the way to his bones; it made him want to howl, made him want to tear things apart with his bare hands. His face shifted despite his desperate attempts to stop it. He glanced over just as Tara's scream tore through the cabin, her body going limp as the cold flames seemed to consume her. Angel squinted desperately and was just able to make out Tara's slumped shadow inside the eerie glow. Then as soon as it had come it retreated, slithering out the way it came. And then the world went pink.

Drusilla shot out of the cloud layer into a world seemingly made of cotton candy. Underworld's vast ceiling was so close Angel thought he could reach out and touch it. The magics looked angry and violent this close up, and their red light was what was making the clouds an impressive shade of pink. The ship rattled and shook as the opposing forces of the storm and the magics tried to pull it apart. Lightning bolts shot upwards from the clouds earthing themselves in the vast magics above.

The clouds below churned with malignancy, great twisters of magic being pulled down into their depths. New ones erupted all around them, making the ship swerve and dive between them. One came down right in front of them. Spike howled.

"BRACE!"

Angel curled up on himself in his seat as the ship jolted and bucked. Metal screamed in protest, real flames erupted from Faith's console.

"Hold together baby, that's it, pet, just. a. li.t.tle. MORE!"

They were free. Up ahead the sky looked calmer, the magics their usual purples and teals, the clouds flat and grey. Spike threw a switch on his console and leapt from his seat the moment Faith did the same and reached for a fire extinguisher. Spike turned to go to Tara, but Angel beat him to it, leaping across the gap between the seats and pulling her down onto the floor with him. She didn't make a sound.

"Tara, pet?" Spike whispered, crouching down. Angel looked up at him with frightened eyes.

"What the hell just happened?!"

"Devil's fire." Spike muttered. "Dark magics. Storm was full of it."

"Willow?" Tara mumbled, her eyelids fluttering.

Angel looked down at her, and tried to offer a reassuring smile. "Are you OK?"

Tara blinked and sat up. "I.I'm OK. ow" She rubbed her forehead.

"Someone should check on Harris." Faith suddenly spoke up. "And someone get the witch a cold cloth. Do I have to think of everything?"

"Thanks," Tara muttered, gratefully accepting Angel's assistance back to her seat.

"No one leaves the flight deck." Spike suddenly barked then he returned to his seat and hit the intercom on his console. "Oi! Anyone alive down there?"

"I'll live." Came Xander's eventual reply. "Although I wouldn't say no to a new pair of pants right now."

"Too much info thanks, Harris." Faith snipped.

"They're torn! What did you think I meant?"

"Shut up! Both of you! Xander, get your arse up here now!" Spike snapped, and then Faith caught his eyes and nodded her head back at Tara. "Bring some medi stuff while you're at it."

Ten minutes later Xander limped into the flight deck with a first-aid kit under his arm and an ice pack wrapped in a towel under the other. His pants had a huge tear down one side, the edges of the fabric stained with blood.

Spike twisted to look at him, but Faith glared. "You just fly the damn ship, ok?" Then she was out of her seat and taking the first aid kit from Xander. "Si'down idiot. Let me see."

While Faith checked over Xander's injury. Angel helped Tara get comfortable in her seat and handed her the Ice pack. He returned the small smile she gave him but in reality he felt like doing anything but smile. What was he doing here? They could have died in that storm and the real danger still lay ahead. Emily's face kept appearing in his mind's eye, and he prayed she would be able to forgive him if he never returned, because it was far too late to back out now. He didn't want to die out here, he wanted to see Emily grow up; he wanted to see grandchildren. He wanted to find out what his place was in this diverse world.

But at the same time his mind turned to the people he knew who were at that very moment in much greater danger than he. He thought about Gunn, he didn't know the man well, but he could quite clearly imagine what the man would be thinking right now. How terrified he must be at the prospect of not seeing his child come into the world, at never getting to meet him or her. He thought about Giles, and how much the man had done and how the people who loved him would miss him. Did he have a wife? Children? Angel wished he knew. And then there was Willow. His gaze ticked to Tara. The two women had gone out of their way for him over the last month, they were. friends. Probably two of the best friends he'd ever had. He owed them both so much and the thought of Willow not being around with her sometimes startling sense of humour and her enormous ability for compassion was terrifying.

He couldn't help but cast another glance at the blonde witch. Together, Spike had said. She and Willow were together. He couldn't say he understood, not really, but. he'd seen her face as Willow's message had played, he'd seen her determination to save her. lover? Love? Could two women really be in love? And if they were, what would Willow's death do to his friend? At that moment he was struck by the overwhelming desire never to find out.

"Shit. Ow! Damn it that hurts Faith!" Xander's exclamations brought Angel back to the present.

"Quick whining, you wimp, it's a scratch!" Faith growled back.

"A scratch? Huh! I deserve a serious pay raise for this! You owe me Spike, and what the hell did we hit anyway?"

"A siphon." Spike bit out.

"Oh that's just brilliant!" Xander snapped. "A siphon. That's just. Genius. How exactly did we manage to hit a swirly great tower of dark magic?! Really I'm curious!! It's not like they're small or say, inconspicuous!"

"You think you can fly this ship any better, Harris? I'd really like to see you try." Spike hissed back.

"Well maybe I could! Considering that EVERY pilot knows you AVOID siphons!" Xander irately hissed back.

"Says the boy who's failed more pilot's exams than I've had hot dinners!"

"At Least I'm not a danger junky who's gonna get us all KILLED!"

"At LEAST I'M NOT AN INEPT SCHOOL BOY WHO THINKS LIFE REVOLVES AROUND TWINKIES AND JACKING OFF!" Spike was now out of his seat and storming towards where Xander was sitting on the floor. The stench of fear and anger was rife on the flight deck and it was making Angel's head spin.

Xander Struggled to his feet, his face a mask of incandescent fury. "NOT ALL OF US CAN BE LOUSY! WHORING! FAGGOTS!"

"Shit" Faith hissed and leapt for the ship's controls just at the moment Spike went for Xander's throat. The two men fell to the floor as Spike squeezed.

Angel scrambled from his seat and hauled on Spike's back. "STOP IT!" With a surge of strength he wrenched the blond free of Xander and pulled them both to their feet, standing between them, a hand on each man's chest. "How is this helping?" Xander struggled to reach for Spike but Angel growled. Spike opened his mouth only to have Angel's head snap round to face him. "Shut up! Now are you two done? Coz there's a bunch of people out there counting on us and I don't want to let them down because you two couldn't get along!"

Spike blinked and raised an impressed eyebrow. Seemed like Angel didn't need his head kicked in to grow a pair after all. He threw one last meaningful look at Xander that told him in no uncertain terms that they would finish what they started later.Then he raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and backed off.

Angel looked round at Xander and gave him a pointed look, one that let just a little demon out. Xander swallowed and nodded, slumping into a spare seat behind Tara.

"Good!" Faith said with a mock cheer. "Now you two have finally put your dicks away, has anyone given any thought to say. a plan?"

"Yep. Go in; kick arse; go home." Spike said with a firm nod.

"Ok, that's a start," Faith sighed, "But thinking a little closer to home, oh wondrous blond one, how about, are we even going in the right direction?"

Thunderous silence met this suggestion and Faith slumped. "Deep joy."

Spike clenched his jaw. "Well. we know they were headed to the GRC."

Now for the first time Tara spoke up. "W...Willow's message was sent o.over eight hours after they left. B.but it couldn't h.have come f.from more than two hundred odd m.miles away. They shouldn't have b.been that close."

Spike closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Oh buggerin' buggerin' hell!

"Ok and what's that supposed to mean?" Faith snapped.

"The Iliad's an old freighter! Low altitude, low speed but reliable as hell! Davis would have taken her up the freight route and cut cross country north of the mountains! He'd need all her power to make it up to the roof! He couldn't waste it just getting over the ridge!"

Faith nodded in understanding. "That explains how they were got at. No one and nothing north of ULA. Bandits, pirates they'd be on the trade routes not in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere."

"So are we going the right way?" Angel asked quietly.

"We are now," Faith replied.

Angel waited for someone else to ask the question buzzing around his head, but finally realised he'd have to. "What's the difference between bandits and pirates? And if there is a difference, shouldn't we try and work out which we're dealing with?"

"Give the demon a cookie," Faith muttered at the same time Xander shook his head and moaned.

"We're so gonna die."

Spike pointedly ignored Xander and turned his chair to face Angel. "Bandits are ground based, fire shit up at you then pick over what's left when you crash. Pirates will pick a ship they think's worth sommit, then chase it till it runs outta juice or cripple it. Either way you gotta land and then they strip you of everything you got. Willow was alive to send the message, and she said they'd been boarded; that to me says pirates." He glanced over to Faith who nodded her agreement with his assessment.

"And what happens to the passengers and crew?" Angel asked hesitantly.

Spike's face went cold. "If they think they can get a good price for you, they'll hold you to ransom; if not. they'll rape you then gut you like a fish." Angel swallowed and looked away, but Spike wasn't finished. "Pirates usually hang in groups of twelve? Fifteen max, right?"

Faith shrugged. "That's what I heard."

"And they won't move on till they've stripped a ship bare, so how long you think we've got?"

Faith's brow crumpled in thought then she twisted in her seat to look at Xander. "Hey, sulky pants! 15 men. A ship like the Iliad. How long to take it apart?"

Xander grumbled. "If they just want the engines, a couple of hours?"

Spike grit his teeth but shook his head. Without looking round he ground out, "Stripped down till there's nothing left but a scorch mark in the dirt, Harris."

Xander was tempted to ignore he'd heard Spike speak at all, but faced with Faith, Tara and Angel's glares he huffed. "18 to 24 hours. my best guess."

"So we still have time. Giles and the others would know to play up how much they were worth. Now we just gotta find them right?" Faith asked optimistically.

"Hey! If they're being held for ransom, why don't we just pay it?" Xander chirped.

This time no-one even bothered to glare. Even Angel knew it wasn't likely that even if they put all their funds together, they'd have enough to pay any kind of ransom.

"Yeah pet, we just gotta find them." Spike sighed after a moment.

Ahead of them, lit by the glow of Drusilla's lights, bleak dark nothingness stretched away into infinity.

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

They'd been flying for nearly two hours when the cloud finally cleared. The barren and war crippled land below stretched out bleak and desolate, its surface pocked and riddled with the scars of 13 years of intense warfare, a nuclear bomb blast and three hundred years of neglect. Every ten miles or so, bright blue lights marked navigation beacons. Places to hide were numerous, and the carcasses of downed ships littered the ground like dead flies.

Far below them, occasionally they passed a slow moving freighter, or were passed by faster passenger shuttles, but mostly the skies were empty. For every ship they encountered, Faith would desperately scan the radio waves for any signal that said someone else had picked up their missing friends. But altruism was not a survival skill for those traversing the no man's land between cities, and no one held much hope. The rest of the time she kept listening out for Willows message.

Faith could feel the prickle of three pairs of eyes digging into her back. She knew they were waiting for her to give the signal. Which ever came first, the nearest beacon to 200 miles, or Willow's message, would be the turning point in their journey. At that point they planned to drop down to below radar levels and start a grid search. It was risky; if the pirates saw them coming they'd more than likely be shot out of the sky. Plus, they needed the element of surprise if they had any hope of storming their camp and rescuing their friends. How Spike planned to overpower up to fifteen heavily armed men and demons with just herself, a tired and hurting witch, a crippled engineer and a clueless newbie, she had no idea.

Three hours into their journey, not long after they passed the beacon that marked 190 miles from ULA, she picked up the faint traces of Willow's signal. Faith hadn't cried since she was a small child, but a tear escaped the corner of eye as the faint blip-blip registered in her head set.

But this was no tear of relief, this was the tear shed by someone who knows that one nightmare was ending, just in time for another to begin.

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