The Promise

By Esmeralda

Part One

Spike rubbed the back of his neck and fought against the urge to turn around and scan the crowded club. Some inner sense was telling him to be on guard, against what, he didn't know; nevertheless, he'd learned long ago to listen to his gut instincts.

He was here under extreme duress. Less than forty-eight hours after Angel had been eternally united with his soul, Demon-boy had suffered another staggeringly vague vision. Since he and Xander hadn't had time to find a place to live, Angel was providing them with food, lodgings, and employment. The last part in particular made him gag. However, his lover wanted money - the kind you didn't rifle off a corpse - so here he was *working*.

According to the half-breed, something 'bad' was going to happen in some club, somewhere. They'd been able to narrow it down to one of eight spots. In order to cover the ground they'd split up. Spike hadn't been at all happy at letting Xander out of his sight. He'd only relented when he'd extracted the boy's solemn promise not to indulge in any stupid heroics. Spike shifted uncomfortably on his bar stool and took a long swig from his glass. The *only* saving grace of the evening - free drinks, courtesy of Angel. Unable to bear the maddening sense of 'danger' any longer, Spike glanced over his shoulder toward the dance floor.

He hated these places; crap music, watered down drinks, laughingly menacing bouncers chatting up stringy birds, slathered in make-up and cheap scent. He wondered if it was too early to call it a night and hunt down Xander. Angel had warned him not to 'compromise the boy' by pouncing on him inside the clubs.

Thoughts of compromising Xander took a back seat as his gaze settled on a figure standing by a pillar, at the far side of the dance floor. Blue eyes narrowed warily. He stood up and casually moved down the bar, trying to get a better look. Once he was in a better position to see, he stopped. Taking a sip of his drink he glanced across~

~and crushed the glass between his fingers. Whisky splattered across his shirt as the splintered shards sliced into his skin, he hissed and shook them off. <Fuck>. Spike didn't hesitate. It was time to obey those gut instincts - and they were telling him to get out fast. Struggling not to leave *too* quickly, and thus draw unwanted attention to himself, Spike raced up the stairwell and past the doorman. He had to find his Sire.

<Fuck> He had to find Xander.

Spike wandered back and forth across the sidewalk, torn between the need to locate his Sire, and the need to safeguard his lover. It only took a second to make the choice. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back. Someone stumbled into him - he growled and they hurried away. Spike let his awareness of Xander wash through him. His eyes snapped open, dark blue, ringed with gold.

He walked quickly, an inner sense guiding him to the boy.

--------------------

A very familiar growl drew Xander's focus away from the pretty brunette he was chatting to. She quickly realised that she'd lost his attention. Frowning, she glanced around her - and found herself face to face with a startling pale young man dressed in black.

"Piss off."

She blinked, uncertain if this crude individual was actually addressing her.

"I said, *piss off.*"

This time the words were accompanied by a psychotic stare that made the young woman realise she needed to powder her nose. Watching her make a rapid exit, Xander sighed and turned to his lover. "Look, Angel said-"

"Fuck what Angel said," Spike snarled. "What were you doing with that stupid bint?"

Taken aback by the venom in his lover's voice, Xander paused before answering. He took in the rigid posture, tightly clenched jaw and gold edged eyes. <Oh, oh.> He raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Hey, relax. Just following orders here, remember? Mix and mingle; that's what the boss man said. This is me doing the mixy mingly thing, strictly for non-pleasurable, information gathering purposes."

Spike grabbed his arm in a near crushing grip.

"Oww!" Xander exclaimed quietly. "Wha-?" He didn't get a chance to finish. Spike set off toward the exit at speed, hauling the confused youth along behind him as he cut his way through the crowd. Xander didn't even try to offer any resistance. It would have been a wasted effort.

Spike was seriously rattled about something. Xander sincerely hoped it wasn't the girl. Jealousy was flattering - but with Spike it could also have a deadly twist. He had no wish to see the young woman have her neck snapped simply for talking to him.

When the vampire didn't stop outside the club, Xander decided to risk what he hoped was an innocuous question. "Er...where are we going?"

Spike stopped so suddenly Xander stumbled into him. The vampire turned - eyes flashing gold. "*You* are going to sit in the car. I am going to round up the rest of our fearless band."

Ah, sarcasm; that was reassuringly 'un-psycho Spike'. Xander felt it was probably safe to press ahead with another question. "Is everything okay? Only you seem a little...well....spooked." Spike didn't answer. Instead he walked off again, still towing Xander behind him. Xander had to break into a trot to keep up. <Okay, I'm guessing this means you don't want to talk about it.>

"You can let go now. I get it. I'm going to wait in the car. I hear and obey, oh master," Xander grumbled.

Spike ignored him.

--------------------

A short while later Xander was sitting in Angel's car, nervously waiting. Spike's odd behaviour had unsettled him, added to that, he *hated* underground car parks. You just couldn't shake the feeling that you weren't alone down here, that something, somewhere was lurking in the shadows, watching.

A noise made him jump, but it was just a door banging. A group of giggling teens tumbled into a car and drove off with a squeal of rubber. The silence seemed even more oppressive after they'd gone and Xander decided he was going to hyperventilate if he didn't start to relax a little. Leaning forward he fiddled with the stereo. His mind scarcely had time to register the car door as it was flung open, or the hand that reached in to pull him out.

The next thing he knew he was face down across the bonnet. He lay there for several heartbeats, too stunned to move. Then his survival instincts kicked in. He lashed out with his legs, at the same time he tried to slide to the ground. His feet connected with thin air. There was a mocking laugh and fingers closed painfully tight around his hair. Then his head was wrenched back and slammed forward.

For a moment everything threatened to go black. As it was, tears rushed into his eyes and the pain made his brain shut down. Dazed and groggy, he was only dimly aware of being turned over onto his back. He blinked and tried to focus; he could just make out a pair of glowing golden eyes floating above him. A bubble of hysterical laughter welled up. It seemed he'd left a Hellmouth, in the company of two vampires, only to meet his end at the hands of another vampire - and they said fate had no sense of humour.

His vision was blurry, everything was out of whack, for which he was grateful as those glowing orbs came closer...and closer. He whimpered and tried to wriggle back across the bonnet. Hands like steel claws held him still. A cold hard body pressed down upon his own - a grotesque parody of his lover's touch. His head was forced up, exposing his throat. Xander swallowed convulsively as he waited for the bite that would end it all. Nothing happened.

After a moment, the vampire drew back.

Xander raised his head weakly, and then flinched as the vampire leaned over him again. He lay, rigid with terror, as the vampire nuzzled his throat, then it suddenly struck him - the vampire was 'inhaling' his scent.

"Well, well a consort." The voice, like the laughter, had a mocking edge to it. The vampire leaned in close once more. This time sharp fangs grazed Xander's throat, a cold tongue lapped the blood away. The vampire withdrew with a soft chuckle and an amused, "William."

Xander stared, wide eyed, as the vampire eyed him speculatively.

"So, sweet William is in town and he's got himself a fresh little fuck toy." The vampire reached for Xander.

Xander pushed himself up onto his elbows and scrabbled back, ignoring the black spots that obscured his vision. "Touch me and he'll kill you," he declared hotly. He hoped he wasn't bluffing.

The vampire laughed. "Kill me?" He seemed to consider the threat. "He's tried it before," the vampire opened his arms wide, "but I'm still here. So what does that tell you?"

"You got lucky," Xander rejoined snappily.

Gold eyes narrowed dangerously. "No, boy. *He* got lucky. I chose not to kill him " The vampire paused, and his smile grew vicious. "I 'disciplined' him and sent him on his way." He looked Xander up and down.

"It seems I gave him a taste for it."

Xander felt ill as the meaning of the vampire's words hit him. "You raped him?" His voice shook with anger.

The vampire shrugged casually. "You might call it that. Though I have to say, he didn't put up much of a fight." He cast Xander an evil look. "Of course, he couldn't really, not with his spine snapped in two."

Xander launched himself of the bonnet with a choked cry. Rage and grief momentarily overcoming reason.

The vampire caught him easily, pinning his arms and spinning him around so he was held tight with his back against the vampire's chest. "Hmm, you have moxy," the vampire taunted. "I can see why he chose you." Xander struggled. The vampire tightened his grip, choking him. "Easy, little one. I'd hate to snap your neck by mistake."

Common sense finally kicked in and Xander hung limply in the vampire's arms. He trembled with fear and anger. "I'm going to kill you" he gasped hoarsely.

The vampire just laughed. "Maybe. Or maybe I'll kill you." He spun Xander around so that they were face to face. "I want you to take my sweet William a message," he said raising his hand.

Xander felt a sharp sting on his cheek, and the warm trickle of blood. Then the hands holding him let go and he crumpled to the ground. The vampire's cruel laughter echoed around his head as he tumbled into darkness.

Part Two

Xander could hear voices, they sounded tinny and faint. He caught snatches.

"...hit....head...."

"..blood...."

Someone was touching him - cool gentle fingers, tenderly stroking his cheek, carefully examining his poor, hurting head. He tried to move and instantly felt much worse. He groaned.

"Xander? Luv? Come on, snap out of it, pet."

The voice sounded worried. Xander forced his eyes open. "S-Spike," he murmured happily. "Knew.. you'd.. come...safe."

"Yeah, yeah. You're safe, luv. I've got you."

"Xander?"

Xander slowly focused on Angel's concerned face.

"Xander, what happened? Who did this?"

<Not who...*Him*.> Xander shook his head - which proved to be a very bad idea. "Hurts," he moaned pitifully.

"Leave him alone," Spike snapped.

Xander felt his lover's arms fold around him and he snuggled into soft leather and hard Spike.

"What's this?" Spike tilted his face gently, brushing a finger across his cheek.

Xander tried to explain, but the words wandered off inside his head.

Spike's lips ghosted over his skin, a cold tongue flickered along the stinging cut.....and Spike recoiled so quickly Xander was left swaying.

The vampire leapt to his feet and strode away. He went a few paces, turned back and darted forward - driving his fist into the car door, the metal crumpled from the blow. It landed close enough to Xander's head to make him twitch.

"Who did he say he was?" Spike hissed, his eyes furious gold slits. "Who touched you?"

"I...I don't know," said Xander helplessly, he was still trying to clear the fog from around his brain. "He pulled me out of the car...he...he hit me. Everything went kind of fuzzy after that."

"Did he say anything?" Angel asked gently. "Anything at all?"

Xander tried to think past the pounding ache inside his skull. "Yeah, he...he said something about sweet William." He looked at his lover. "He knew you," he whispered sadly. Spike stared at him and then looked away. Angel opened his mouth as if to say something, but Spike cut him off with a terse shake of his head.

Doyle's soft brogue slipped into the tense silence. "I think, fellas, that maybe we should take the kid somewhere and get his head looked at. He looks a little out of it."

Xander didn't feel nearly as 'out of it', as he would have liked. Unconsciousness seemed more appealing by the minute. "No..hospitals," he told them, as they helped him to his feet. His legs buckled. Spike picked him up, holding him in his arms like a child. For once, Xander had no desire to protest. He hurt, he wanted to be comforted and cosseted. He wanted to go home and lie down and sleep. He wanted all this to go away and leave him alone.

"Are you sure?" Angel asked. "You might have a concussion. Perhaps it would be-"

"-he said no fuckin' hospitals, "Spike growled. "We'll take him home and see to him ourselves."

Xander didn't hear any further protest and he felt it was safe to let go and drift back toward the darkness that beckoned him.

"Xander. Xander, luv. I need you to stay awake."

"No," Xander protested weakly. "Can't...Imzzt...s-sleepy..Hurts.."

"I know, pet. I know. But you've clocked your head so you have to stay awake for a while. Come on, look at me, that's it."

Xander focused feebly on his lover's anxious face. "I..I was scared," he confessed.

Spike's mouth tightened. "Sssh, I know. It's all right. I've got you now. He won't lay a bloody finger on you."

"Wh-who is he?" Xander asked breathily. Spike lay him across the back seat and carefully got in with him. "Who..?" Xander repeated.

"Ssh, luv. We'll talk later."

Xander frowned, frustrated by his inability to think. Everything kept drifting in and out. He tried to recall what else the strange vampire had said, but the words kept slipping away from him. <Who is he, Spike. Who is he?>

Part Three

They returned to the relative safety of Angel's apartment. Spike refused to surrender his protective hold. Placing Xander very carefully upon the bed he lay down beside him; brushing back a lock of dark hair, he frowned as his gaze fell upon the mark scarring Xander's cheek. Before it had been smirched with blood and grime, now it stood out starkly against the pale skin.

Two, thin red scratches - a cross.

Spike ground his teeth against the swell of rage that tore through him. Someone had hurt what was his; someone he despised from the depths of his unbeating heart.

~Penn.

A hundred years had done nothing to calm the seething hatred he felt toward the other vampire. If anything, time had merely honed it to a finer, more intense loathing.

--------------------

He had first met his new 'sibling' in the spring of 1874. He and Angel had spent a glorious winter prowling the streets of London - sex and slaughter in copious amounts. However as the seasons changed his Sire grew restless; it was time for a change, time for his new Childe to see the world.

They'd gone to Italy, Rome. Spike suffered a brief bout of homesickness that was quickly forgotten as he feasted upon the locals and basked in the 'attentions' of his Sire. Attentions that were soon to be divided, as they met up with the rest of Angelus' 'family.'

Darla unnerved him. She was beautiful and sophisticated; he felt gauche and clumsy beside her. She also held power over his Sire, something he resented - recognising a reflection of his own relationship with Angelus. He had never liked to share. His solitary nature meant what little he'd had, had always been his alone. He worshipped his Sire with an unholy, inhuman passion. To see that same passion burning between his Sire and the stunning vampiress cut deeply. However, she treated him well, regarding him with an amused fondness. Drusilla was very different. At first she made him uneasy; her strangeness was unsettling. Slowly he got used to it. He came to appreciate that she had real power, and he was both amused and intrigued by her semi-insane chatter. She was also reminiscent of his Sire - the same luminescent skin, dark hair, and near black eyes. In turn, she also developed a certain fondness for him. She had finally found someone besides Angelus who would heed her visions and pander to her whims.

Penn he hated from the outset. Angelus' oldest Childe obviously viewed himself as something special, a favoured 'first born' son. Spike represented the unwelcome interloper - a cuckoo in an already crowded nest. It didn't help that Angelus clearly preferred Spike's company to Penn's, both in and out of bed. The older vampire added fuel to an already stoked fire by occasionally taking Spike in front of his other Childe - and making it very apparent how much he enjoyed it. Angelus seemed to take perverse delight in stirring up the hatred that boiled between them. Not that it took a lot to set them at each others throats - literally.

The 'family' had travelled together for a while - Angelus and Darla acting like proud parents over their unruly brood. The latter eventually tired of having to share her Childe with his own offspring and in the winter of 1876, when they were in Vienna, Angelus and Darla took off by themselves. Spike felt lost without the presence of his Sire and was extremely unhappy at being left in the company of Penn.

He had adapted quickly, finding a confident and co-conspirator in the lovely Drusilla. Like him, she had little affection for older vampire. Penn ridiculed and tormented her. Spike surmised it was because the former puritan feared her visions and viewed her as a witch. Penn attempted to rule the roost as Angelus had done but they thwarted him at every turn, making a mockery of his attempts to lead them. They baited him, and let him know that he wasn't anywhere near the calibre of vampire Angelus was.

It was to prove a costly mistake.

Penn had sulked and shouted. Then he'd tried violence to bring them under his control. He was stronger than them both one-on-one but they had the strength of numbers, together they could hold out against him.

Unfortunately, Penn had learned one important lesson from his Sire, an old and oft used one - divide and conquer. He bided his time, waiting until Dru suffered one of her debilitating 'attacks', incapable of anything but spouting gibberish and sobbing noiselessly.

Spike had been waiting for the older vampire to try something. He had thought about leaving, taking Dru and going back to England. He'd hesitated only because he'd hoped Angelus would return. Penn hadn't even tried to fight fair, running Spike down on horseback, then beating the younger vampire to a bloody pulp with a broken branch. The horse's hooves had shattered Spike's spine and he was already out of the battle when Penn began to beat on him.

It didn't stop there. Penn had dragged down his breeches, taking him roughly as he lay bleeding and helpless in the snow; too grievously injured to do anything but howl curses at his attacker. Penn had simply laughed. The older vampire had spent the whole night violating and humiliating his 'little brother'; when he had finished he'd simply walked away.

Coughing blood and near crazy with pain, Spike had managed to crawl back toward the house, fearful of what Penn might do to Drusilla. She had regained some of her senses and despite the rapidly approaching dawn had come out to look for him. She found him collapsed against the wall and carried him back to the house. Penn had gone.

Drusilla tended to him, hunted for him, held him through the nightmares and the impotent rages that threatened to swallow him whole. When Angelus returned - without Darla - almost a year later, he discovered a new bond had developed between his two remaining Childer. It altered the relationship he had with them. He still took them into his bed, but now he usually brought them into it together, taking his pleasure of them both. A new 'family' was formed, one that survived the decades until Darla's reappearance. She took Angelus away again. Years passed and neither of them returned. Spike waited, and waited.....Finally he took his dark goddess and moved on.

Now Penn was here, in this city, reawakening an unforgotten promise. Things had changed since their last 'encounter'. This time the fight would be more evenly balanced...though probably no fairer. If Spike could lure Penn into a nasty, brutal, agonising death by foul means he would do so. Penn was a festering thorn in his side and this time the other vampire had made a fatal mistake - he had recognised that Xander was Spike's, and yet he had dared to touch him, to mark him. Spike was beyond anger and running dangerously close to madness.

"Mmmph....S-Spike.."

"Here, luv," said Spike quickly. He buried his rage as brown eyes focused on him muzzily.

"H-head...hurts," Xander whimpered.

Spike frowned. His fingers ghosted over the swelling that had risen on the boy's forehead, the flesh already discoloured a purplish-blue.

"Here, try this." Angel approached the bed holding out an ice pack wrapped in a cloth. Spike took it and lay it gently against Xander's forehead. The boy moaned weakly and tried to push it away.

"Easy, easy, pet," Spike whispered. "Give it a minute."

Xander lay still.

"Better?" Spike asked anxiously after a moment had passed.

"Hmm," Xander agreed wordlessly.

Doyle appeared in the doorway. "How's he doin'?"

"He'll be okay," said Angel. The vampire looked at his Childe. "Spike, we need to talk."

"Later," said Spike. "I'm not leavin' him alone."

"Later then," Angel agreed. He hesitated, then added softly, "He'll be fine, Will."

Spike didn't look up. His eyes were fixed on Xander's face as he tenderly stroked his lover's throat, feeling the reassuring pulse beneath his fingers. "I know," he mumbled.

Angel nodded and turned to go. "If you need anythin-"

"I won't," Spike interjected. However, as Angel reached the doorway he called out quietly. "If....if I do, I'll.. erm...yell, or something."

Angel glanced back; he gave a faint smile and tilted his head slightly to show he understood. Then he left.

Part Four

Doyle followed Angel into the next room. "So, are yer going to tell me what this 'Sweet William' thing is about? Cos I don't recall any pissed off vampires in my vision."

Angel folded his arms and leaned back against the wall. He didn't meet Doyle's gaze. "William is Spike's real name."

"Yeah, well I kind guessed that. What, with you yellin' 'Will' at him every now and then." Doyle moved to stand in front of his lover. He rocked forward on the soles of his feet. As their bodies touched the furrow that had settled between Angel's eyes evened out slightly.

"Hey," said Doyle softly. "You don't want'ta talk about it, that's fine. I understand. I just thought it might help, ya know."

Angel released a shaky sigh and let his head tip back against the wall. "I want to tell you. It's just-"

"-complicated?" Doyle guessed, only half teasing.

Angel looked at him and smiled faintly. "Yeah, it is, but I want to tell you." He glanced toward the bedroom. "Not here though."

"Upstairs?"

Angel nodded and Doyle reluctantly stepped back, sighing softly as they moved apart. They walked in silence up the steps into the office. Doyle turned on a lamp more out of habit than need. Though he felt he probably didn't want to have this conversation in total darkness. Angel had that tired, tortured look that made Doyle's heart ache.

"This vampire that attacked Xander, he's someone Blondie crossed swords with way back?"

"His name is Pe..nn." Angel's voice hitched slightly on the name.

Doyle didn't miss it. "You know him too," he said quietly.

Angel looked at him, dark eyes filled with pain and regret. "He's my Childe," he said simply.

Doyle blinked. "Your?-" He stopped and sucked in a sharp breath. Angel looked away. Doyle quickly moved out of his chair and came forward to sit upon the desk. Without a word he took hold of one of Angel's cold hands, and drew it to him, cradling it between his own. Haunted brown eyes turned back to face him.

"You haven't seen him for a while?" Doyle asked gently.

"The last time was November, 1876," Angel supplied.

Doyle's eyebrows rose. "He's not one for keepin' in touch much then."

Angel threaded Doyle's fingers through his own and pressed them slightly. "I....We were travelling together - Myself, Darla, Dru, Penn, and Spike. Darla got-" he shrugged "-restless. She was bored. So I took her to Paris." He smiled sadly. "She liked Paris. I was gone for over a year. When I came back, he was gone."

"Spike didn't say why or where?"

Angel shook his head. "No, though to be honest I didn't really try to find out." He sighed. "I didn't really care," he admitted.

"Well, you were kind of 'care-free' back then," said Doyle, by way of an excuse.

Angel shook his head again. "That's not it. If it had been Dru or Spike I'd have hunted them down, brought them back. Penn...he was....difficult, demanding. He had become tiresome."

Uncomfortable with the weight of guilt in Angel's gaze, Doyle fell on the familiar comfort of false levity. "Well, you know what they say, you can choose your friends but you can't choose your relatives." Doyle frowned. "Except of course, you kinda did," he added awkwardly.

"He was a Puritan," Angel explained. "Humble, but still proud and sure of his faith. A true zealot. Full of fire and fervour. His devotion intrigued me. I wanted to taste the blood of a 'true believer', one with no doubts, no hesitations. I wanted to corrupt him. I wanted him to betray everything he had held sacred all his life." He stared at Doyle; his gaze hardened. "So I turned him. I led him away from the path of the righteous. I 'instructed' him in the sins of the flesh and showed him how to drink the blood of the innocent. I stood and watched as he fed upon his brothers and sisters, tearing out their throats and throwing their broken bodies aside when he was done." Tears glittered, Angel looked away as one slipped silently down his cheek.

Doyle closed his eyes, needing to compose himself. All right, so he knew what Angel had been, what he'd done - it was still unbelievably hard to sit and hear him speak of it. He opened his eyes again and looked at his lover. Angel sat with his head bowed, his hand still resting in Doyle's lap. Doyle squeezed it reassuringly and gave a slightly embarrassed smile. "Love you," he said quietly.

Angel looked up quickly, his expression startled. Then he smiled sadly. "Love you too," he said.

The tension that had risen eased, and Doyle continued. "You haven't said, why *sweet* William?"

"I used to call Spike my 'sweet Childe'," Angel explained. "It was Penn's way of making a mockery of it."

"You really had a thing for him, huh?" Doyle tried very hard not to sound jealous.

Angel regarded him questioningly.

"Spike," said Doyle.

Angel smiled, and his gaze grew distant as he returned to the past. "Will was....special. He was so 'pure' in his viciousness, so vibrant and alive," Angel chuckled mirthlessly, "even when he was dead." He blinked, and came back to the present. "When I first crossed paths with Spike I had walked the earth as a vampire for over a hundred years. I was-" he searched for the word "-jaded. He brought back the thrill, the excitement, the pleasure..." His voice trailed off.

Doyle filled the slightly awkward pause. "So, you and he had a real passion going, yeah?" This time the nonchalance was obviously forced.

Angel had no difficulty picking it up. He appeared to give the question some thought. "Hmm," he said finally, "Well let me see. I raped and beat him savagely for twenty years or so, and he let me. I guess that could pass for a 'passionate fling' amongst our kind." His mouth twisted in bitter recollection.

Doyle kicked himself mentally. "That wasn't you," he insisted. "I mean that was the you then, but not the you now." He pulled a face, aware of how little sense he was making. He tried again. "You didn't have your soul then, of course you were a total bastard. You're not like that now."

Angel clutched his hand tightly. "No," he agreed, "I'm not, but it doesn't undo what I did - to Will, to Penn...."

Doyle squeezed Angel's hand back almost as hard. "It doesn't seem like Spike's holdin' it against yer. Maybe you should think about easing up on yourself a little."

Angel offered him a weary smile. "Love you."

Doyle returned it. "Love you too."

They sat in silence again, this time it was welcome. Angel rubbed the fine bones in Doyle's wrist with his thumb. Doyle eventually ventured another question. "There's not much love lost between Spike and this Penn character?"

"Not much," Angel agreed. "I used to play them against one another, stand back an watch the fun. It.." he paused, his voiced filled with self loathing, "..it 'amused' me."

Doyle frowned. "Wasn't it kinda risky. What if one of 'em had dusted the other one."

Angel shook his head. "I never let things go that far. I always stepped in before they got out of hand."

Doyle looked thoughtful. "What about when you weren't there? I mean didn't you say that you and this 'Darla' had taken off before he did?"

Dark eyes were troubled. "I don't know," Angel admitted. "I...I thought something had happened. Spike and Dru were...'different' when I came back."

"Maybe you should ask Spike?" Doyle suggested. "If this guy's bearing a grudge it'd be nice to know why when the bullets start flying." He swallowed hard. "Will he come afta you?"

Angel drew his hand away and sat back. "I don't know. If he finds out I've...changed, he might." Dark eyes focused suddenly on Doyle. "If he does he'll try to get to you first."

Doyle was alarmed and confused. "Why?"

"Because that's what I taught him," said Angel flatly. "Torment your victim before you take them. Destroy all that they love, rob them of their reason and their sanity."

Doyle's eyes widened. "Xander."

"Both of you," said Angel. "Cordelia too. I want you all to get out of the city until this thing blows over."

"Excuse me?" Green eyes narrowed. "Let me get this straight. You want us to skip town while you sort out Junior on your own?"

"Spike-"

Doyle cut him off. "Yeah, Spike will probably hang about too. That's fair, considering he's the one this guy seems to be gunning for. But there's no way in hell I'm packing my bags and takin' a trip."

"Doyle-" Angel still didn't get a chance to finish.

"-*No*. I'm staying, and I doubt very much that Xander will go for your plan either."

Angel couldn't argue with that theory. He *could* try to make his own lover see reason. "If Penn comes after me I don't want to be worrying about you."

"*No way*," Doyle hissed, green eyes flashed. "You do not lay that guilt crap on me. I can take care of myself. I don't need you watchin' out for me." He took several deep breaths to calm himself. "Look at it this way. If this was some psycho kid of mine, would you slip out the back door and leave me to handle it alone?"

Angel didn't answer. He didn't have to. "Okay," he said finally. "You stay."

"Damn right," said Doyle. He stood up. "I'm gonna make some phone calls. See if I can't get the heads up on this guy." He sighed. "Plus I'd better find out if anything went down at those bars tonight. I don't want 'them' revoking your good guy status cos we're fallin' down on the job." He turned to go.

Angel rose and caught his arm, pulling him back gently. He placed a quick kiss on Doyle's lips. "Be careful," he whispered. "Penn isn't bright, but he's cunning. I don't want him knowing you're asking questions."

"Don't worry. Careful's my middle name." Doyle paused. "Actually, just between you and me, it'd be okay if it was. I mean, *Francis*. What was 'she' thinkin'?" He gave a mock shudder.

Angel smiled, kissed him again, and then released him.

Doyle went into the outer office and started ringing round a few old acquaintances. How hard could it be to track down a psychotic ex-Puritan in a city like L.A? He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Okay, this could take a while.

Part Five

"*No*." Xander's jaw was clenched tight enough to crack. He was still pale, lines of pain creased his badly bruised forehead.

An extremely agitated Spike paced beside the bed. He ran a hand through his hair. "Will you show some fuckin' sense. You've already had your bloody head bashed in. Next time I'll probably get the message written in your brains." Spike was employing the imploring technique - not all that well it has to be said - and with less than joyous results. He was losing patience fast.

Xander remained resolute. "Read my lips - N O. I'm not going anywhere. Not unless you come too."

Spike threw up his hands in disgust. "Oh, great plan, pet. Where did you fancy going? Mexico, Brazil, Europe maybe. I hear Italy's a great place to die. They do have some amazing cemeteries." He glared. "Don't you get it. He wants me. He will kill you. If we leave together, you're dead."

"I get it," Xander snapped back. His head was beginning to pound again; the dull ache had never left. He decided to try a little soulful eyed imploring of his own. "Why can't you just tell me what this is all about? Who is he? Why does he hate you so much? Is it something to do with Dru?" He was proud of himself for saying her name without so much as a quiver.

Spike stopped pacing. "What's put that flamin' stupid idea in your head?"

Xander regarded him through half-closed lids. "Because everything that sets you off all wiggy seems to start with her." He decided to push his luck. "So who is he, an old boyfriend?"

Spike didn't answer directly. He sat down heavily on the end of the bed, rummaging through his pockets for a smoke. "Let's just say he's bad news, pet, eh, and leave it at that."

Xander didn't care for his lover's sombre tone. The bleak look in those cold blue eyes was way too reminiscent of the night Spike had confided his less than happy childhood.

Xander had tried and failed to recall everything that had happened in the underground car park. He remembered a cruel, mocking laugh and glowing yellow eyes. That was about it...and his mind 'itched'. He knew he'd forgotten something, probably something important. Unfortunately, the blow to his head appeared to have shaken everything loose. His memory was proving a limited source of information and Spike was being less than forthcoming.

He shuffled down to the bottom of the bed. Ignoring the shrieking pain inside his skull. He lay a hand on Spike's arm and drew his lover's troubled gaze to him. "Please, Spike. Just tell me."

Spike stared at him silently for a moment, then looked away. He took a long, hard drag on his cigarette and blew smoke rings across the room. "His name's Penn. Angelus turned him before he did me and Dru. We...didn't exactly 'get along'." Spike's mouth twitched and he smiled bitterly.

Xander was aghast. "Angel made him?!"

"Yep," said Spike with feigned indifference. "He's dear old daddy's number one son."

"Does Angel know? I mean that it was him," Xander asked.

Spike nodded and took another slow pull on his cigarette. "You were babbling a bit when you were out of it. Muttered something about 'Sweet William'. That's what he called me."

"Penn?"

Another terse nod.

Xander sat, quietly thoughtful. After a moment he asked, "Will he come after you, even if you go somewhere else?"

No answer.

"Spike?" Xander's voice held a frantic note.

"Yeah, probably."

"Then *no way* am I leaving," said Xander fiercely. "*I'm* the guy he tried to turn into a hood ornament, remember. I'm not letting him run me out of Dodge while he comes after you."

"I can take him," said Spike sharply.

"Not a question," said Xander firmly, "but when you do, I want to be there - to buy you a celebratory drink."

Blue eyes studied Xander's determined expression. He could force the whelp to go, but where was safe? Sunnydale - not bloody likely! Cities all over had their vampires and demons, their human killers. Plus, he knew Penn. The stupid fuck was single-mindedly psychotic. If he had it in his mind to take Xander out, Antarctica wouldn't be a safe bolt hole. No, he'd keep the whelp close and take out Penn before the other vampire could make his move.

He smiled slightly. "J.D.?"

Xander pretended to be insulted. "Would I offer you anything less."

"-and I get to chain you up," Spike continued. He watched in rapt fascination as Xander's adam apple bobbed.

"Any way you like," said Xander hoarsely.

Spike leaned in close, their lips brushed. "Then you do me," he whispered.

"Deal.."

"Promise?"

"Promise," said Xander.

Spike kissed him. "Contrary brat."

Xander kissed him back. "Bossy git." He pulled back a little. "Much as I am enjoying this, I really need some pain-killers."

Spike's face tightened in concern. "You all right?" He stabbed out his cigarette on the bedstead and stroked Xander's fringe back tenderly. "You don't feel sick, or dizzy, or something?"

Xander winced. "Definitely 'something.'" He met Spike's worried gaze and managed a small smile to try and ease his lover's concern. "I'm fine honest. It's just a headache. Fighting was probably a bad move."

Spike looked somewhat taken aback. "We weren't fighting."

"Okay, discussing things in raised voices," said Xander wearily. "Whatever. It's just brought back my headache, okay."

Spike nodded. "Fine, I'll see if Peaches has something." He stood and very gently manoeuvred Xander to lie back on the bed. "You stay here and rest. I'll bring 'em."

Xander smiled. "Thank you," he said simply.

Spike hesitated, then bent down and placed a light kiss on Xander's cheek. He was gone before Xander could open his eyes.

--------------------

When the bathroom cabinet failed to yield anything useful, Spike went through into the kitchen and began rummaging through the drawers and cupboards.

"Looking for something?"

Spike spun around to face his Sire. "Pain-killers," he muttered sullenly.

Angel went over to the end cupboard and drew down the medical box, he took out a bottle of pain-killers and handed them to Spike. "How's he doing?"

"He has a killer headache and a lump the size of a duck egg, but he'll live," said Spike accepting the bottle.

Angel opened the fridge door and withdrew a packet of blood, after a slight pause he picked up a second one and held it out to Spike.

"Warm it up for us," said Spike, "I'll just take the whelp his pills."

With a sigh of annoyance, Angel set about heating up the blood while Spike disappeared into the bedroom. He returned a moment later.

"Okay?" Angel asked.

Spike nodded tersely and sat down. Angel took the chair opposite and slid a cup of warmed blood across the table to his Childe. They drank in silence.

Once he'd finished, Spike glanced up from his mug. "He won't go either?" Angel shook his head.

Spike 'tsked' in disgust. "I should just turn the bloody whelp, least then he'd do as he's bleedin' told."

"You didn't," said Angel.

Spike shrugged. "I did sometimes."

"Hmm," said Angel non-committally. "More often than not when it suited you."

Spike smiled slyly. "That's what made you hot for me. Cos I wouldn't always do what I was bloody told. You liked it when I was bad, so you could 'punish' me."

Angel squirmed slightly. "Maybe," he admitted, "but you pushed me too far sometimes."

"I did," Spike agreed, his smile stretched a little wider, "and sometimes it was worth it."

There was a charged pause; the air seemed to crackle between them.

Angel spoke. "You know I-"

Spike cut him off, "-yeah, I know."

Silence stretched out once more, but the tension had eased.

Angel took their mugs over to the sink, he put them to soak and returned to his chair. "What happened, Will?" he asked quietly.

Spike didn't answer at once. Then he gave a half-shrug. "We had a falling out. He took off."

"A falling out?" Angel repeated. "Over Dru?"

Spike swore violently. "Why the fuck does everyone assume this has to do with Dru? It doesn't, all right. Not a bleedin' thing. She had no part in it."

"Fair enough," said Angel calmly. "It has nothing to do with her. So what is all this about?"

Spike shot him a disgusted look. "Even you're not *that* bloody blind."

A moments confusion; an instant later realisation. "Me," Angel guessed, dismayed.

"There's a bit more to it than that, but yeah, that's pretty much the crux of it." Spike slumped back in his chair. "He was all pissy cos I was flavour of the month."

"You were much more than that and you know it," said Angel softly.

Spike looked uncomfortable. "Whatever," he muttered.

Angel stood up and walked over to stand in front of his Childe. He tipped Spike's head back gently. "I turned you because I wanted you. What I felt was tainted by what I was, but it didn't make it less true. I loved you, Will - with my demon and my human aspect."

Spike blinked. "And now?" he asked, his voice rough.

"I've changed," said Angel quietly. "I have my soul. I'm no longer crippled by the darkness that resides in me. I can control it."

Spike jerked his head free and looked away. "Well bloody bally hoo for you, mate."

Angel simply reached out and caught hold of Spike's chin, drawing his gaze back. "*I've* changed," he repeated, "but what I feel for you hasn't. I still love you, Will. For as long as I exist I'll love you." There was silence as gold-edged eyes regarded him warily.

Finally Spike said, "You love him too,"

"Yes."

"Does he know how things are?" Spike asked uncertainly. He wasn't that sure himself any more.

Angel stroked his Childe's jaw gently. "His vampire Lore's a little rusty, but he has the gist of it, and he picks things up fast."

"He might not like this," Spike warned. "I mean, Xander understands, but he's-"

"-different," Angel finished. "I know, and if Doyle doesn't like it, nothing happens. It won't change how I feel-"

"-but no fuckin'," said Spike crudely.

"No fucking," Angel echoed. "I won't see him hurt."

"Even if it hurts us?" Spike despised the whine in his voice.

"You're my Childe," said Angel, "but he's my lover."

Spike understood. Angel loved Doyle and would allow nothing to intrude into that relationship; but they had a bond too - one forged in a dark, fog drenched alley way more than a century ago. Nothing could destroy it - not even them. Even without the sex. "I guess I can deal," he said simply.

Angel smiled and brushed his thumb across Spike's lips. "Get some rest, we'll talk some more about Penn tomorrow."

"Great," said Spike unenthusiastically.

"We need to deal with him," said Angel. "You know what he's like."

"Yeah, a real chip off the old psycho block."

Angel didn't argue. "Exactly. He knows you're here. He'll hunt you down."

"Yeah, and more than likely he'll soon be looking for you too. You're not exactly low profile here, peaches," Spike pointed out.

Angel smiled coldly. "Then we'd better be ready to greet him properly when he arrives."

Spike answered with his own cruel smirk.

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