(( ))=thoughts. * *=emphasis.

"About time you got home."

Angel tucked the mail he was holding into his pocket and took one step off
the elevator.

"Spike."

"Yeah, mate, it’s me. Surprised?" The blonde vampire took another sip from
the mug he was holding and set it down on the table next to the couch.

"What are you doing here, Spike?"

"What does it look like?" He spread his arms and leaned back on the couch.
"I’m sitting on the couch."

"Funny. What are you doing here?" Angel gauged the distance between
himself, Spike and his weapons cabinet.

"Oh, stop already! I’m not here for trouble and you know it." When Angel
just looked at him with disbelief, Spike snorted and picked up his mug
again. "I don’t know why you’re acting so squirrelly- unless you’re still
afraid of me? Is that it?" Spike smiled at the possibility.

Angel tsked and shook his head. "I never was afraid of you, Spike. I don’t
know where you get these ideas. I was just trying to determine if you had
any surprises waiting for me under the cushions." He moved farther into the
apartment but still kept his distance. As he’d discovered on Spike’s last
visit to L.A., his childe had gotten a little sneakier than he’d remembered
him. "What are you doing here, Spike?"

"Quite the broken record you’ve become. You mean the Slayer or one of her
pals didn’t call you and warn you I was on the way?"

"No."

"When was the last time you heard from any of them?" Spike was beginning to
believe Angel really didn’t know why he was sitting in his living room.

"I get an e-mail from Willow every once in a while, but I haven’t actually
talked to any of them since…. since Oz was here. Why?" Angel was now
studying Spike curiously. The cockiness was the same- but not. He was more
subdued or something- almost like he was- depressed? ((No, that can’t be
right. Spike never gets depressed. Angry, scheming, furious, happy, hyper,
even hurt, but never depressed.))

"Damn! Damn! DAMN!" Spike set down the mug, stood and began to pace. "I
can’t believe none of them bothered to mention it. But why should I be
surprised? None of them care- not really. They think it’s a good thing- no
big deal-" He continued to pace, muttering to himself about ways to kill
all of them without making his head explode.

Angel was truly confused now. Spike had never been that good of an actor so
that meant that this was real- whatever *it* was. "SPIKE!"

"WHAT?" Spike growled back and continued pacing.

"Sit down and tell me what’s going on. Is everyone all right?"

"NO, EVERYONE IS NOT BLOODY WELL ALL RIGHT!" Seeing that Angel was about
ready to pound him to get answers, Spike lowered his voice and clarified.
"None of your little humans are hurt, if that’s what you mean. When I left
they were all going about their business as usual, fighting evil and
foiling nefarious plots to end the world."

Now Angel was really confused. "If everyone is okay, what are you talking
about? And you better answer me this time because I’m starting to lose my
patience."

With a loud sigh of annoyance, Spike threw himself onto the couch. "Might
as well grab a chair ‘cause it’s a long story. Well, it’s not a long story,
but I’m going to make it one because I’m going to tell you every freakin’
detail."

Angel looked at Spike for a long moment before shrugging his shoulders and
seating himself in the chair farthest away from Spike, just in case. "I’m
comfortable, start talking."

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

"-..so, I went back to staying at the Watcher’s place after the soldier
boys found me again. And I don’t have to tell you what a joy that’s been.
But at least I get to shed some blood when there’s a demon involved. Except
now I’m on the demon shit list and I can’t go anywhere by myself without
running into someone that wants revenge. So now it’s either hang with the
‘Scoobies’ all the time or stay in. I’m going nuts there!"

"You’re not making this up, are you?" Angel already knew the answer to
that, but he made himself ask anyway.

"Why would I be here otherwise? You think I *like* being here- like coming
to *you*?"

"No, I know you must hate it. So that lends the question of why you *are*
here."

Spike frowned and shot Angel an angry glance. His poof of a sire was going
to make him say the words out loud. "You know why. Unless you haven’t heard
a word I said."

"Oh, I heard what you said. I don’t understand some of it, like why Buffy
would help you at all, or why no one told me what was going on, but I know
those are things I’ll have to ask someone else and trust me when I say I
*will* be asking. But I want to know what you want, why you’re here. More
specifically, what do you want from me?"

((Everyone thinks Angel is nothing like Angelus-. if they only knew.)) "I
guess I’m asking you to let me stay here for awhile- just until it cools
down in Sunnyhell or I get the chip out. I’ll- I’ll even help you with -
whatever it is you do- if I can." ((There, concession made. Now maybe he
won’t make me say it.))

"That’s a very generous offer, I’m sure. But after everything you’ve done
or *tried* to do to me, why should I?"

"Hey! Let’s not forget everything you’ve done or tried to do to me! You act
like I don’t have a *reason* to hate you."

Angel turned his eyes away and nodded. "Yes, I suppose that’s true. We both
have our reasons for hating each other." He returned his gaze to Spike,
staring intently into those ice-blue eyes until they dropped away from his.
((Hmm.. that’s interesting.)) "But what about now? Why should I be willing
to put the past aside and help you now?"

((Bloody hell! He really is going to make me say it!)) "Because-because-
I’m asking." Spike choked out the words, his glare once more directed at
the vampire that was taking way too much pleasure in this little game of
humiliation to be the guilt-ridden, self-sacrificing Angel that everyone
back in Sunnydale thought he was. ((What’s happened to him? Or did he just
hide this part of himself from the Slayer and her friends?))

Angel shook his head and grinned. "Not good enough, Spike, and you know it.
Try again." He relaxed back in chair; now confident that he would win
*this* battle of wills.

((Look at him sitting there like he thinks he’s the fucking king of the
world or something. Some things never change, soul or no soul-like that
smug little smile, not so much different than- Fine, if that’s what it
takes, we’ll play the game your way- for now. You’ll learn soon enough that
I’m not afraid of you anymore and I’m not in a wheelchair this time,
either.)) Cursing himself for being three kinds of fool for thinking that
soul-boy would go easy on him, Spike stood and walked slowly across the
room, stopping only when his shins hit the chair in which Angel was
sitting. He knelt between Angel’s spread legs and placed his hands on his
sire’s tensed thighs. Keeping his eyes focused somewhere just above Angel’s
head, he said- as sincerely as he could make himself say- the hardest six
words ever to leave his mouth, "Please, Sire, I need your help."

Angel hadn’t thought he’d really do it. That Spike would humiliate himself
this way proved once and for all that he was serious. "Get up." He almost
laughed when Spike nearly fell on his ass in his haste to get up. "There
will be rules."

"When aren’t there?" Spike grumbled as he resumed his seat on the couch,
trying not to look at Angel’s probably smug expression. "I can’t kill,
can’t feed, can’t even rough anybody up. What more do you want?"

"Stay out of sight until I can convince Cordelia and Wesley that I haven’t
lost my mind."

"Wesley? Who’s Wesley?"

"I’ll fill you in later. As I was saying, stay out of sight for now, don’t
mess with my things, clean up after yourself and don’t drink all the blood
without telling me we need more. And just- stay out of trouble in general."

"Is that all, oh Lord and Master?" Spike couldn’t help but revert back to
his normal sarcasm, especially since Angel was treating him like he was
some ill-mannered ten-year old.

"I don’t *think* it will come to ‘Lord and Master’, but I’ll let you know."
Again, he had to suppress the urge to laugh as Spike’s head shot up in
surprise "and what"? "It was joke, Spike. I *can* make the occasional joke,
you know."

"Yeah, whatever, mate. Joke all you like, no matter how lame." Spike went
back to picking at his nail polish. He didn’t know which bothered him more;
Angel making a joke or the apparently accidental reminder of Angelus’
favorite game.

"Well-" Angel stood and took a few steps towards Spike, who was trying very
hard to ignore him. Angel had very belatedly realized what he’d said and
how it must have sounded to Spike. Since he’d never been able to bring
himself to stake Spike at least he could torment him a little. It really
wasn’t a very ‘Angel’ thing to do, but it was oddly satisfying. "I guess we
should be hitting the sack." He saw Spike tense and purposely let the
silence hang for a moment before adding, "I’ll get you a pillow and blanket
for the couch."

((He really is a right bastard- I think he’s even enjoying this. Prick.))
Spike glared at Angel’s back as he went into the bedroom and was still
glaring when he returned, the promised pillow and blanket in hand.

"Here you go. And don’t put your dirty boots on my couch. That’s another
rule, no boots on any of the furniture." Without giving Spike the chance to
make what would probably be a very rude comment, Angel headed back to his
room, switching off the lights as he went.

"Prick."

"I heard that. Try for something more original, would you? Good night,
Spike."

"Up yours." In a small defiance, Spike swung his still booted feet up onto
the couch and stuffed the pillow behind his head. He lay there for a few
minutes, surprised to find that he felt better than he had in weeks. He was
angry, annoyed and even impatient to get on with whatever torments Angel
apparently had in store for him in exchange for this ‘help’. But at least
he wasn’t depressed anymore. ((Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after
all.)) After a few more minutes, he cursed himself under his breath, sat
up, removed his boots and then lay back down. ((I’m not following the
rules, I’m getting more comfortable.))

As soon as he heard the boots hitting the floor, Angel closed his eyes and
relaxed for the first time since he’d entered his apartment to find Spike
on his couch. ((Maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea, after all. And who
knows, it could actually be- fun.))
 

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