Lateral Thinking
By Xanpet
Chapter One
Angel entered The Hyperion ahead of Cordelia by several minutes. It had been an atrocious night in every sense of the word. The Californian rain lashed against his upturned collar and streaked the demon gore, which clung to his coat. They had not killed it. They should never have gone without backup and they had barely escaped with their own lives. Well, her life, his existence.
The hotel was quiet, as one would expect given the hour. Fred had turned in, even before the vision struck. The stench of failure hung about the lobby, that and cigarette smoke.
"What are you doing here?" Angel said to the size nine DMs, that protruded from the sofa and rested on the highly polished coffee table.
"Well that's bloody charming," Came the oh so English reply, followed by equally English sarcasm, "Hello Wil', nice to see you Wil', how the devil are you Wil'?!"
"Shut up Wil'?!"
The younger vampire stood up and moved towards his Sire. He dropped the cigarette butt as he did so and trod it into the red plush carpet.
"I'm warning you, Spike. I'm in no mood for your antics." Angel stepped to meet the blond, half way across the room. He knew something wasn't right. There wasn't the normal cocky sass that went along with most conversations with Spike. Nor was there the threat of violence, which usually underpinned them. Something was different. There was an air of sadness about the demon.
"No antics, no shenanigans. I..." He could hardly bring himself to say it, "I..." He began again, but never finished. Only vampire hearing could pick up the whistle in the air, and only preternatural reactions could side step the crossbow bolt that winged its way between them, to lodge in the painting behind the reception desk.
"And another old mucker pleased to see me! That or the picture just insulted your hair."
Cordelia was already notching another bolt into the bow. Angel commanded her to stop. "Go home 'Delia. This is between Spike and me."
"But..."
"Just go home. It's dawn and you need to sleep."
"Yeah, run along little girl."
Cordelia looked stunned but she was tired and if Angel really wanted to dust.... "Well if he makes you into vampire shish kebab again and you dust, don't come running to me." And with that she turned on her heal and left.
"Why are you really here?" Angel asked. There was something truly wrong with his youngest. He looked into those clear blue, soulless eyes and saw humiliation and abject misery.
"I've come for shelter. I need asylum and I want to claim Childe's rights."
The words tumbled from Spike's mouth. The warrior for the Powers That Be was caught up short for a minute. "But Wil'," He said gently, "You are not my Childe. I'm not in truth your Sire."
"You are." Spike spat back. He pulled his shirt away from his left shoulder. "This claim 'ere says you are. You marked me. You groomed me for it and took me on when she failed. You made me what I am and then abandoned me. You owe me, you fucker, and you'll bloody well cough up." He glared at the other vampire. "Will you grant me what I ask?"
Angel didn't know what to say. What could he say? Spike took his silence as a rejection, snatched up his bags and headed for the door. He was fast but Angel was faster and blocked his way. "Where the hell do you think you are going? Its daylight out there."
"Good. Can't fry in the dark. Just let me go, ponce."
"Why Wil'? What's wrong? I'll help if I can."
"I told you what I wanted. Now you can just fuck off." He shoved at the other vampire, but Angel didn't move. Spike went game faced on him and roared.
"Okay two can play at this," Angel snarled. Game faced himself now, he snatched the bags and Spike was left holding just the handles. Angel threw the cases into the hotel. Spike was furious. He made a left swing, but Angel caught the fist in his wide palm and tossed him back into the foyer. Still moving, Angel backhanded the younger vampire so that Spike literally flew and landed in a heap.
"If you would just stop..." But Spike was instantly up and a vicious roundhouse kick landed in Angel's gut. He groaned and doubled up, only to be hit with an uppercut to the jaw. Snarling and hissing, the two vampires continued to fight, until Angel finally succeeded in holding Spike in a half nelson. He pulled hard, painfully dislocating the arm and, placing Spike in a headlock, said, "Okay Wil', you win. I'll give you what you want, but you must ask for it. Say the words."
"Changed me mind in' I." Angel wrenched Spike's head back and held it up by the hair. "Okay, okay, just let me go!"
"Oh I don't think so, you want to be Angelus' Childe? Well then boy, say the words."
A master vampire in his own right, Spike had to be at the very nadir of his existence to come to his Sire for this ritual. He had forced Angel to behave appropriately, to take control and force him to submit. Now was the time. Spike began,
"I William, of the Order of Aurelius,
Do hereby claim and desire Childe's rights.
Owed to me by my Sire, Angelus.
My blood is his blood, his blood is my blood.
As it was in the beginning and as it ever shall be.
I owe him my life, he owes me my death.
Until the debt be repaid, we are bound."It had been difficult, more difficult and more painful than he had thought. Angel didn't let him go either. Through gritted fangs he growled his formal reply,
"I Angelus, of the Order of Aurelius,
Do hereby accept and desire Sire's duties.
Claimed from me by my Childe, William.
My blood is his blood, his blood is my blood.
As it was in the beginning and as it ever shall be.
I owe him his life, he owes me his death.
Until the debt be repaid, WE ARE BOUND."Angel was uncomfortable with this but the beast within was angry and he snapped, "How do you want to do this, boy, neck or wrist?"
"Wrist." Spike barked back. They sunk their fangs into each other's left wrist and, after a short drink, joined the bleeding wounds. The passion and heartache that flavoured Spike's blood was not unusual. It was the taste of Spike. Only after this did Angel let go completely.
He stared at his wild Childe with compassion and bewilderment. He had given Spike what he wanted. Spike had effectively renounced his master vampireship and become a fledge again. He had thrown himself on the mercy of his adoptive Sire, claimed sanctuary under his protection, and Angel still didn't know why.
Spike wasn't about to tell him either. With a pained groan he shoved the shoulder back into alignment and then said, "So, Soul boy, where am I kipping? I'm fucking knackered."
Chapter TwoHalley Dillinger arrived for work promptly at nine. She entered the laboratory where, for the last eighteen months, she had been creating the most amazing things. These things were still science fiction fantasies for most people. She hung her tan rain mac in her locker and got out her white coveralls. As she had every morning, Halley went through the decontamination ritual and only then entered the laboratory itself.
She said good morning and looked briefly at some of the ongoing experiments. Smiling and nodding to her staff, she made her way to the door at the far end of the room, and entered her swipe card and personal security number.
She looked at the array of scientific equipment arranged on the bench in front of her. It was strange, in most films this apparatus resembled a still, and each flask would be filled with a different coloured liquid. That was TV rubbish. All these liquids were clear and the work was slow and methodical. She opened her notebook and began to scribble.
She felt more like an artist sometimes than a scientist. Creating not experimenting. The chemicals were her oils and life itself was her canvas. "Life didn't imitate art," she thought, "It was art. Simple, beautiful..." A small noise roused her from her reverie and she looked up to see her inspiration framed behind plate glass above her head. Lindsey McDonald. He smiled at her and there was laughter behind his eyes. "Life is art." She repeated in her head, smiling back.
His dark hair was tidy but his jacket hung loosely from his shoulders. He said something to the balding man next to him and the gentleman, in turn, addressed Halley through the internal microphone.
"Good morning Dr. Dillinger. I take it you have something to show us. Is it ready?"
"Yes. If I may, I'll talk you through the procedure." She pressed a few buttons and a robotic arm, raised a large Pyrex demijohn, from a stainless steel vat. "What we have here is the result of uniting genetic sample 459 with genetic sample 626. In the past we have had a number of aborted foetuses, due to the creation of lethal genes but this combination has proved to be the most stable." She spoke with her back to the window. Demon genetics was quite complicated enough without the added distraction of her lover, making her palms sweat and her pulse race.
"Nevertheless," She continued, "We had to insert the anti clone of the demonic gene epsilon 7 into the DNA strand in order for cell division to occur."
"How old is the baby?" Asked Lindsey.
"Sixteen weeks and it's not a baby. It's an embryo or more correctly spawn." He would be asking the gender next. She was sure he just did it to fluster her.
"I am now going to add two drops of one molar trans dexta hydroxate, into the amniotic fluid." She extracted the precious liquid from a test tube in the rack in front of her, and placed two drops into the fluid that surrounded the baby. "Shit! Embryo. Damn!! Spawn." She thought. He had her at it now. Though if anyone had the right to call them babies it was she. They were her babies, her creations.
The embryo began to wriggle slightly and kicked once or twice in the solution. "And as you can see, quickening has occurred and the soul has entered the child." She looked up quickly to see if he had noticed the slip, but he was still smiling at her.
Lindsey turned to his boss and said, "Do you really think she's done it?"
"Created a soul from distilled essences? Yes, I think she's done it and think, if we can give the soulless a soul then we can also take one or more. Think of the implications of that for Special Projects or even for our own operatives. Do you need yours?"
He was shocked for a moment as Reed continued, "Many would say you've already sold it, would it be such a problem to lose it altogether? We are lawyers. We don't require souls. We don't take part in life, we observe it and profit from its excesses. Without a soul you could live forever. It's the soul that is marked and damaged by life. Without it we are free. Think about it."
Lindsey wasn't so sure. He had worked for the company for a long time, had done well and risen fast. It was true he could be ruthless in getting what he wanted, but if the price was his mortal soul? He wanted to be the best and that meant not being weak with those around him, even those he loved. Had he fallen for the soft-spoken Halley Dillinger? He remembered the evening they had met. He didn't treat her like a scientist; he treated her like a woman. With her, he could be courteous to a fault, old fashioned and self-effacing. Love was a weakness he could probably do without. Affection could bring him down. Maybe he should have a soulectomy. Hal was beautiful and smart, and he felt absolutely sure that he needed his soul to love her.
Chapter ThreeAngel knew it was still day out. He could feel the drag of the sun, even though he couldn't see it. He was dimly aware of something else. Something calling to his demon, something cool and Spike shaped in the bed with him. The blood of his 'foster' childe was playing tricks on his senses. The others had always lived there, in the shadowy corners of his dreams, calling to him to come home. It was how Wolfram and Hart had pulled that stunt with Darla so easily. She had already been there, in his greatest dreams and his worst nightmares, her and Penn, and Drusilla, and Spike.
Spike! This wasn't a dream. He was here, here in this bed. Angel was instantly awake. He was uncomfortable with this and he knew he shouldn't be, but he was. He shifted in the bed, trying to move away from the almost foetal form. "How long has Spike been here anyway?" He wondered.
"Spike, what are you doing?" He said out loud.
"Sleeping!"
"Why here?"
"I'm cold and lonely. Any objections, Mate?"
A million and one objections flooded into Angel's mind, not least of which was his growing erection, an autonomic response to the close proximity of his childe, especially after this morning's ritual. It should have been sealed with a sexual act but neither vampire had seemed in the mood. This was probably as close as Spike was ever going to get to it as well. And now Angel felt cold and lonely.
For their entire 'lone hunter' style image, vampires were gregarious by nature. They nested for God's sake. A creature so vulnerable during the day needed others around him for safety while he slept and family blood ties took on a whole new meaning, when blood was your only connection. Not that there wasn't tensions within the group. And those tensions often erupted into violent displays, as the nest hierarchy was established, but it had to be said that, as a demonic species, they didn't do well alone.
Angel tentatively laid an arm over the waist of the other. The touch wasn't rejected so he grew bolder, drawing Spike in towards him until they were spooned in the centre of the bed. If he could only find out what was distressing William so much then maybe he could help and maybe Spike would stay. He wanted him to stay. He wanted the Slayer of Slayers. Spike was ruthless, cunning and evil. Definitely evil but the call of family blood was relentless. Angel made a silent promise, he had failed Penn and Drusilla, he would not fail William.
Spike was soon sound asleep again and Angel comfortably drifting when a sudden intrusion took him by surprise. The door was thrown open and Wesley stood in the doorway. Before he could say anything, Angel motioned him to be quiet and carefully got out of the bed. Wesley averted his eyes at the sight of the naked and aroused vampire. Angel put on a robe and came to the door.
"Don't you knock in England? I thought manners were a national pastime."
"Cordelia came to me today and gave me some disturbing news and now I find that, not only is what she said true, but frankly even more disturbing."
"Outside." Angel commanded but Wesley continued,
"It seems, to both Cordelia and myself, that whenever a member of your extended vampiric family is in the vicinity, you lose a certain modicum of perspective. Cordelia is scared, Angel. She says that a vampire called Spike is here and from her description it sounds to me like William the Bloody. Please tell me that isn't him in your bed."
"One, it's none of your business, two, don't call Spike, William the Bloody to his face, it isn't a complement and three, well for three read one."
"I think, considering the past, it is very much our business. Are we in danger here?"
"Only if you carry on yammering while some of us are trying to FUCKING kip, Mate." Roared those oh so London tones from deep inside the room. Angel ushered Wesley quickly out of the door.
---
By about seven, Hal finished up in the kitchen of her small apartment and called Lindsey in to dinner. She loved to cook. It wasn't dissimilar from genetics. She dimmed the lights and lit the candles. He held her chair before sitting down himself. Dinner had been his idea.
"So what's the occasion?" She asked.
"Do I need an occasion other than I love you and there's an 'r' in the month?"
"She smiled, "It's August."
"Okay an 'a' then." But he did have a reason. He was increasingly nervous about her work or, more specifically, how Wolfram and Hart were using it.
He knew that, when she had started, it was with a dream of helping demons. She had once found a wounded demon in her back yard as a child. It had obviously been in a fight with something, and had begged the young Hal Dillinger for help. She had hidden it in her tree house, but day-by-day, the monster had got weaker. Whatever it ate, it wasn't potato chips and finally it had died. Ever since, she had wanted to be a demon doctor.
But it was not possible just to go the University of California, and ask for a research grant into something, that was still mythology to the world at large. So, she started to ingratiate herself into demonology society, and it hadn't been long before she'd been introduced to Wolfram and Hart and met Lindsey. He loved her; he didn't want to see her hurt and the Firm wanted your very soul. It was necessary for him to work with them, he was in too deep and they already had his soul, but she didn't have to.
"Hal, have you ever thought about moving on?"
She put down her wine glass and folded her arms. "Even if there was a ring in the glass, I wouldn't leave my job, Lindsey. It's too important right now."
"I'm not asking you to give up work altogether, but you must have built up one hell of a resume by now. I'm stuck but...well - I just feel that Nathan Reed owns both our souls right now."
"You are getting too involved in my work. How can someone own your soul?"
He was about to answer when the beep on the sofa went off. "It's Reed," she said frowning at the display. "I've got to go. She put on her coat and headed for the door.
"That's how." He said to the empty apartment.
---
Spike lay in bed, even though the sun had set an hour ago. He would have been happy never to get up again. It made little difference that he had done the leaving for the first time in his existence, he still felt abandoned and cold. It made a great deal of difference that he did not have the moral high ground on this one. He had lied to Xander, done a deal with the mob, behind his back and nearly got them all killed. Whatever his motives he was not in the right.
Then Angel was yelling and pulling off the bedclothes. "If you're going to be here, you're damn well going to earn your corn. Get up, get dressed and get downstairs now."
"Cos?"
"Cos I've just spoken with Giles. I don't like being hoodwinked, Spike. I thought you were genuinely in trouble. I've told him you're under my protection or he'd be here with the stake as we speak, and as I can't work and watch you at the same time, you're just going to have to be part of the team."
"Fu...."
"No. Not a word and especially that one." Angel began tossing items of clothing at Spike. Both boots managed to hit him, even though he ducked. Angel then snarled and swept out of the room, "You have three minutes."
"Fucking, cock-sucking wanker!" Muttered Spike, but he obeyed.
In the hotel foyer, Angel Investigations was beginning its early evening briefing. Cordelia opened the post. Wesley was putting the finishing touches to a number of reports. Spike could see his presence wasn't welcome. He stood in the shadows and watched. Out of the blue, Cordelia started to moan and dropped the letter opener. She clutched her head and tried to speak through the pain, but the agony was overwhelming and she felt herself falling and then being caught.
"Whoa, steady there Princess. Well, what you standing there for, like the great poof what you are? Get the lady a stiff one and I don't mean cock. You okay, Sweet Pea?"
Ignoring Spike, Angel asked, "What did you see?"
"Fucking dozy question. The floor." Spike put Cordelia down gently and went to the bar himself. When he came back they were all standing around Cordelia as she related the vision. Wesley took notes and Angel gently prodded with questions. "Wow, the cheerleader is a seer! Well fuck me sideways 'til Christmas!!" He thought. He handed Cordelia the drink.
"Any luck?" Angel was addressing Fred.
"No, Gunn's not there either."
"Well we'll just have to go without him. Damn! I wish he wouldn't do this!"
"In his defence, he does have other responsibilities." Said Wesley.
"We'll bring Spike." Angel said as he began to collect weapons.
Cordelia was furious, her friend had been treated like dirt but the Blond Bombshell got a party invite. "Hypocrite much!" She snapped. "You were all so like 'she's going to betray you, Cordelia, she's of the bad Cordelia' and just because I saw him in the vision.... I sort of iceberged my argument there didn't I?"
Angel smiled, nodded and ushered them all to the car. All except Fred, who stayed in case Gunn showed up.
Spike sat next to Angel and said nothing. Wesley and Cordelia hadn't wanted him. What was new? No one wanted him. He didn't care. What he did care about was that the neighbourhood was getting progressively rougher. The street sign said Avalon but somehow it didn't strike him as Arthur's paradise. This was hell. The grey apartment blocks rose like stone giants from granite coloured pavements. Not a tree, not a bird, only stray dogs and disowned cars. The place stunk of a city in decay. Spike knew that smell. It was what he had died to escape from. The people here were soulless, disaffected, shut down and dangerous. He didn't want to be attacked by some street gang out for kicks. He'd had quite enough humiliation that way thank-you.
"This ain't the sorta place you'd want to be caught in after dark, so what the fuck are we doing here after dark?" He asked belligerently.
"You want to come out in the day? Cos it could be so arranged Blondie." Cordelia snapped back.
"Shhh!" Angel whispered, "Is this it 'Delia?"
"Ah huh, I think so." Angel slowed the car so that she could get her bearings, mapping the vision's image onto the reality. When she was sure, he stopped and they all got out of the car.
"By the playground there. There are some trashcans, so you'd think these people would use them, but no. They leave it around, encouraging demons - demons like that one!" She pointed; the creature looked up from the garbage and started towards them.
The thing reeked just like the streets around. It looked rotten almost putrid and made both Wesley and Cordelia gag. Flesh hung from it in great flapping chunks and it's shuffling gait told of a twisted skeletal frame. The whole thing was sick and warped. But from the misshapen skull peered the most sorrowful eyes.
It lurched towards Angel and he took a huge swing at it with his battle-axe. The creature was quicker than it appeared and easily sidestepped the incoming blow. Wesley also swung at it with the short sword he was carrying. The creature snarled at him and then screeched as a crossbow bolt hit it in the side.It spun towards Cordelia snarling, venomous liquid oozing from its lips.
"Well done, Princess. Piss it off why don'tcha? Fucking 'ell!!" The thing lumbered towards the blond vampire. He had no weapons other than his fists so he hit it, hard.
Spike clutched his head and screamed. The pain was excruciating. He reeled, unable to stand, as the pulses of agony continued to echo around his cranium and then he vomited.
"Hey watch the shoes!" Cordelia yelled.
"BACK! BACK!" Angel hollered but Spike was doubled over and continued to heave. Angel scooped him up over his broad shoulder and they all fled back to the car.
"What the hell just happened there?" Angel barked at Spike.
"Don't 'ave a fucking go at me, Mate. I didn't bleeding do nuffink."
"Maybe it's a puke demon." Cordelia offered.
"Its an escaped demon! That's two for two. Why do things like this always happen when you're around Spike?"
"How the bloody fuck can this be my fault?!! I'm the one who managed the Technicolor yawn!"
"But why, William?" Wesley asked, "Did you feel something when you touched the demon? You seemed in pain."
"Oi, Upper Class Twit of the Year, I never said you could call me William!"