The Promise

By Esmeralda

Part Eleven

Doyle returned to discover the atmosphere had grown considerably worse in his absence. He'd heard the raised voices as the lift cage descended; everyone appeared to be in on the argument. He quickly got the basics. It seemed that their antagonist wasn't exactly a social butterfly, which probably explained why all his sources had drawn a blank. Penn was solitary and reclusive, stepping out only to hunt and feed. He followed certain patterns with his kills however, reliving past glories and early deaths.

Spike was arguing that if he showed himself around town he might be able to lure the other vampire out. Angel was arguing that he could operate equally effectively as bait. Xander was objecting to the idea of either of them dangling themselves out in the open waiting to see if psycho boy would bite.

Doyle was with Xander. "Look, my sources aren't giving me anything now, but why don't we leave it a few days, huh? Maybe he'll poke his head up long enough for them to get a bead on him."

Angel shook his head. "If he's hunting Spike he'll stay low until he finds him."

"Then how is you two wandering around gonna help. He'll just get the jump on yer," said Doyle.

"We can steer him toward a pre-determined location," said Angel. "Manipulate the fight in our favour."

"You mean you'll both fight him?" Doyle didn't like the sounds of this one little bit. He had no trouble at all dealing with the idea of two onto one - it was the very fact that Spike and Angel might be considering it necessary. Just who was this Penn guy that he had them both so rattled.

"No," Spike interjected. "He's mine."

Doyle shivered at the look in the younger vampire's eyes. "Fair enough, but why out there?"

"So it's nowhere near us," said Xander flatly. "They want to keep the fight away from us."

Doyle looked away from the boy's hard gaze to the face of his lover. "Angel?"

"It's better that we don't let him find this place," said Angel. "Spike and I will go out tonight. You and Xander stay here and see if you can put some research together on this 'club thing' we're supposed to be looking in to. I need more on that." Dark eyes implored Doyle to understand ~ <I need you safe, I need Xander safe.>

Doyle nodded slowly. "Okay."

"Doyl-"

He cut the boy off, his own anxiety making his words harsher than intended, "-what? What can we do? You've already had your head caved in. They know this guy, they can handle it." <Right?> he asked silently. Angel regarded him gravely and Doyle felt his insides tighten.

"Fine," Xander snapped and stormed into the bathroom.

Spike sighed and went after him.

Doyle stepped closer to his lover. "You can take this guy, yeah?"

Angel ran a hand across his face wearily. "Something's not right. There's something between him and Spike. I need to settle it before we get into this with Penn."

"But you can take him?" Doyle pressed.

"He's my Childe," said Angel simply. "I made him, his existence is mine to take." Dark eyes carried no warmth as he spoke, they appeared as flat and hard as obsidian.

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

Spike found his lover standing in front of the sink, both hands clutching the basin in a white-knuckled grip.

"Luv-"

"-I know," Xander interrupted. "I know, all right. I know you have to do this and I know I'll only be in the way. It doesn't mean I have to like it."

Shoulders trembled, and Spike gently lay a hand upon them. Abruptly, Xander spun around and caught hold of the vampire, wrapping him up in a fierce embrace.

"Just promise me you'll kick his ass," Xander whispered. "Promise me."

Spike stroked soft dark hair and whispered, "Straight to hell, pet. Straight to hell. You have my word on it."

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

Nightfall came too quickly. Neither pair said any proper goodbyes ~ it would have had too fine an edge of finality about it. There were brief, desperate kisses and haunted, anxious looks; then the vampires slipped out silently into the street, leaving their lovers to wait......

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

Some hours later Xander was pacing the floor of Angel's apartment, while Doyle pretended to study the text in front of him.

"Hey, you okay, man?"

<Sure, I'm just peachy. My lover is out there with some homicidal, grudge bearing, bad-ass vamp and all is well with the world> Xander thought irritatedly. Then he looked at the other man, seeing the tension lines around unhappy green eyes. Doyle was suffering the same agonies he was. Angel was out there with Spike ~ and Xander doubted Penn would be pleased at the family reunion.

He sank down heavily onto the couch. Doyle continued to watch him, green eyes tight with concern. "I hate this," Xander confided. "I hate this waiting, not doing anything. Sometimes....sometimes Buffy would make us stay and wait." He shook his head, eyes haunted in recollection. "It's just so..."

"-hard," Doyle finished for him. The half-demon smiled sadly. "Tell me about it. Angel has this over protective thing honed to a fine art."

"Does it bother you?" Xander asked shyly.

"That he cares enough that he doesn't want to see me hurt?" Doyle smiled, then shrugged. "Sometimes. I mean, I've been on my own a while. I know how to take care of meself."

"Yeah," said Xander softly. Sometimes it felt like he'd been taking care of himself forever.

"But it's good too," Doyle continued, "I mean I like that he worries about me. It's only fair, considerin' how much I worry about him. I know he's the stronger one physically. He's a vampire, not much I can do about that. So he fights the bad guys and I help."

"You see that's it," said Xander. "I don't mind helping. I'm happy to help. I'm a happy helper. It's this sitting around on my ass doing nothing that sucks."

"Yeah," said Doyle. "It does."

They exchanged worried looks.

"Look," Doyle began, "how about we-" He stopped as the room was suddenly plunged into darkness.

"Doyle," Xander whispered in alarm.

"Quiet," Doyle hissed. He shook himself, changing into his demon aspect, sniffing the air. He froze. "We hafta get out of here."

Xander felt his chest tighten in panic. "Is it-"

"-yeah," said Doyle brusquely. "Let's go." He caught hold of Xander's arm and guided the youth toward the stairs. He snatched a fighting axe from the wall as he passed.

"Don't we need something wooden?" Xander hissed.

Doyle was about to answer when he realised something. "You can see?"

Xander sounded afraid and unsure. "Sort of, I can see shapes and stuff. Like light and dark shadows."

"How-" Doyle began and then he stopped. There wasn't time now. "Okay, good. This is good. When we get up there I want you to head straight out for the street. Find somewhere with a lot of people, a bar, a club - anything. Then phone the police."

"The police?!" Xander exclaimed softly.

"Tell 'em you think you're being followed. Tell 'em you want to make a confession. Tell 'em anything. Just get them to take you into custody. You'll be safer."

"What about you?" Xander asked worriedly.

"I'll be fine, I'll watch your back," Doyle assured him.

Alarmed, Xander tugged on Doyle's shirt. "You're not planning on taking on this guy?"

"Hey, not me," said Doyle quickly. "I'm strictly the 'side kick', remember."

Xander wasn't convinced. "You don't follow me out, I'm coming back in."

"No," said Doyle. "You get the hell away from here. Right?"

Xander didn't answer.

"Xander, we don't have time for this macho bullshit," Doyle hissed.

"Then let's go," said Xander starting up the stairs.

Doyle sighed and relented. "Okay, but no heroics, and you follow me." He moved past the boy and began to head up, one cautious step at a time. Vampire's were virtually impossible to track by scent. He'd caught the briefest waft of blood and death when their visitor had entered the office, now he was operating virtually 'blind'.

They made it to the top of the stairway without event. Doyle clutched the fighting axe and cautiously stepped out onto the next floor. Xander was right behind him. "He can track us," the boy whispered softly. "He'll follow our heartbeats."

Doyle knew Xander was right, but there wasn't anything they could do about it. They'd just have to hope they could make it out onto the street before~

~ a hand appeared from nowhere and wrenched the axe out of his grasp. Doyle heard Xander shout his name as he flew helplessly through the air, crashing against the wall he slid down to the floor. Battered and breathless he tried to struggle to his feet; something appeared to be broken and he sank down again with a gasp of pain.

"Well, what have we here, two for the price of one," a mocking voice taunted.

Doyle looked up into a deceptively youthful face. Short, fair hair framed eternally boyish features, still in their human guise. The vampire swung the axe around in one hand.

"Hmm, this is a pretty toy. Can I play with it?"

Doyle jumped as the vampire brought the axe down sharply, slicing into the floor beside his leg.

The vampire yanked the weapon free. "Whoops, missed." He raised it up again.

"NO!"

Doyle felt his stomach knot in fear at the cry, watching as Xander flew across the room, throwing himself at the vampire - who turned and caught him effortlessly in one hand. Doyle tried again to stand. "Let him go," he hissed.

The vampire spared him a faintly bored look and slipped his hand further up the axe, twisting it around so that he struck Doyle across the head with the handle.

"Nooo!" Xander cried, struggling in the vampire's grasp, kicking his legs uselessly.

"For you, I'll let him live," said the vampire. He shrugged. "At least for now." He threw the axe down to get a better grip on his prize. "You're all I really came for anyway."

Xander felt his blood turn to ice at the vampire's words. "What..what do you mean?"

The features inches from his own shimmered and shifted into their vampiric visage. "We're going to have a little fun, sweet. Just you and I." Gold eyes narrowed cruelly. "I want you to give William another message for me." He laughed, and backhanded Xander across the face, hard enough to stun the boy. Then he stepped over Doyle's crumpled form and carried Xander down into the basement.

Part Twelve

Xander was still groggy when Penn dropped him onto the bed, however as icy fingers ripped open his shirt he began to struggle. He kicked, punched, bit, and scratched - doing anything he could to drive the loathsome creature away from him. It was all to no avail. Penn simply slapped his hands away and then sat on his legs. When Xander still fought, Penn hit him again.

"Now, now," the vampire scolded, "didn't your parents teach you to play nice."

"Fuck off," Xander snarled.

The vampire laughed. "Oh, you're a one, sweet. A belly full of fire. Hmm, I'm going to enjoy you." Xander recoiled in disgust as the vampire leaned over him and inhaled deeply. "You know what though, sweet. You are afraid. I can smell it."

Xander was afraid. He felt sick with it. He didn't want to die. He didn't want to die like this - a painful, lonely death at the hands of some insane vampire. Tears burned his eyes, some of them were for himself, the rest were for Spike. What would it do to his lover, to find his butchered body laid out on the bed where hours before they'd made love.

He blinked the tears back sharply. Yes he was afraid, but there was no way he was letting this fucker know it. <Okay, Xander Harris. Let's see how brave you really are> he challenged himself.

The vampire was regarding him with an odd expression, equal parts curiosity and amusement.

Without a word he grabbed Xander's hand, folding his finger's over the boy's bunched fist. Slowly he squeezed.

Bones grated together and Xander bit his lip to contain a moan. Penn smiled. "Do you know who I am, little one?"

"Yeah," Xander ground out through clenched teeth. "You're the pathetic prick who couldn't cope with the fact that his 'daddy' loved someone else more than him. Though now I've met you, I'm not surpri-"

Penn punched him hard enough to drive the air out of his lungs. Coughing and choking, Xander sucked in another deep breath and carried on.

"I'm...I'm not surprised.....cos I've...only...known you...a few minutes... and I'm..already..bored to..tears."

It had occurred to him that baiting a sick, psychotic, pissed off vampire might be skirting close to the edge of suicide, but the way Xander saw it he was probably already dead - and there was *no way* he was going out quietly.<I've talked too much my whole life, why buck the trend.>

Penn's gaze had turned murderous; golden eyes seemed to possess a greenish hue as they glared at him. <If looks could kill> Xander thought somewhat hysterically. Penn released his hand and grabbed a handful of his hair, wrenching his head up. <No, no, no> Xander begged silently.

"Lie still, little one. This will only hurt....a lot," Penn smirked as he leaned forward.

Xander didn't have a chance. With the speed of a striking snake the vampire tore into his throat, fangs plunging deep into the delicate flesh. Xander gasped, his eyes wide with shock and pain. Muscles spasmed helplessly. This was nothing like when Spike had bitten him. The agony was almost unbearable; great rolling waves of it, crashing through his body like a tsunami. The room was filled with the sound of his own harsh breathing - rough and raspy - and the obscene sucking sounds as Penn drank.

Tears poured down Xander's cheeks as he felt the blood being pulled from his veins. It hurt, oh god it hurt. "Sp-Spike.." he whispered brokenly. A black whirlpool seemed to have opened around him; it was slowly dragging him down. <I'm dying> he thought in stunned amazement. <Oh god, I'm dying> He willed himself to move but his body no longer responded to his commands.

At last Penn pulled back, blood streaming from his mouth.

Xander lay panting hard as he battled to draw air into his lungs.

"Now isn't that better," Penn said smiling cruelly. He moved aside the two torn edges of shirt, exposing the boy's bare chest. It rose and fell frantically as Xander gulped for oxygen. Penn slipped his hand into his pocket and pulled out a small silver thimble with a cruel point. Slipping it onto his forefinger, he pressed it into Xander's skin, drawing a bead of blood. "Time to give Sweet William his message," he murmured. "Don't wriggle little one, or you'll make me angry." Slowly, he scored a line across the boy's torso.

Xander didn't flicker an eyelid. He was beyond feeling pain. Near to death, he dwelled in a dreamlike netherworld, unaware of anything around him.

Penn hummed to himself as he worked, tiny rivulets of blood running down the boy's rib cage onto the bed.

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

"Summat's wrong," Spike muttered.

"What is it?" Angel asked.

"Dunno," said Spike. "Just a feelin' that's all. Like something's not right."

Angel watched in concern as his Childe's features shimmered and the young vampire had to actively work to push them back into their human guise.

Cold blue eyes retained a golden cast. He tried to sense whatever it was Spike was picking up on, but felt nothing. Penn wasn't close by, of that much he *was* certain. He could feel his Childer when they were near. So what was it?

"We have to go back," said Spike suddenly.

"Wha-?"

Spike was already heading toward the car. "We have to go back," he repeated.

Angel felt his belly twist with fear as he saw storm blue had turned to yellow gold. <Doyle...Xander..> He ran.

Neither cared who saw their unnatural speed as they fled to the car. With a squeal of rubber, Angel swung it around 180 degrees and headed back to the apartment, praying to all the deities he knew that they weren't already too late.

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

The sickly sweet fragrance of fresh blood assaulted the vampires as they entered the office. They stiffened and stared around them, sensing the air.

Angel suddenly bolted forward.

He found his lover's crumpled body curled up on the floor near to the wall. With a quiet moan, Angel fell to his knees, gathering the young man into his arms. He gently ran his hands over his lover, trying to detect any injuries. Doyle had a cut and a dark bruise across his face, but Angel could discover nothing more serious. He sagged in relief and drew Doyle closer, pressing his face into the soft, short hair. Spike had heard the half-demon's heartbeat and had immediately rushed past his Sire to the stairway. He leapt down the steps in three bounds and headed straight for the bedroom.....................

A stricken howl rang out.

Angel raised his head, features drawn in horror.

Doyle was slowly regaining consciousness. He jerked in Angel's embrace at hearing the cry <Oh god, Xander> He tried to struggle to his feet, but his legs refused to support him. Angel lifted him up and carried him down into the basement. The vampire was shaking.

They stopped in the bedroom doorway.

"Sweet Mary Mother of..." Doyle stared numbly at the tableau laid out before him. Xander lay on the bed, ankles crossed, arms stretched out - like a victim of a crucifixion. His skin was mottled grey, lips blue tinged, eyelids bruised and sunken looking ~ the monochrome hue of his body was broken only by the dark red smears that streaked his chest. So much blood. Doyle thrust his hand to his mouth as he caught a glimpse of the tattered wound on the boy's throat - the skin torn and shredded as though savaged by a wild animal.

Spike cradled the boy's head and shoulders as he knelt upon the bed. He rocked gently, making a strange low keening noise. Gold eyes were fixed and blank.

Angel shook himself out of his own stunned grief as a sound reached him ~ the faint thready pulse of a heartbeat.

He hurried forward, placing Doyle on the edge of the bed. Reaching out he seized his Childe's shoulders, ignoring Spike's warning growl. "*Will*. Will, listen to me. Xander is dying. Are you listening to me? He's *dying*. You have to decide now. We take him to a hospital, or you turn him." He shook Spike. "Listen to me, Will. You have to make the choice."

Doyle's eyes widened in comprehension. Xander was still alive. However, it was clear that his body no longer held enough blood to keep him that way for much longer. The fact that Angel was giving Spike this choice meant there was a strong possibility Xander wouldn't survive a trip to a hospital....

....but if Spike turned him, the Xander they knew would cease to exist.

"*Will*," Angel's voice cracked as he pleaded for his Childe to respond. Without a word Spike moved. Wrapping the blood soaked blankets around the lifeless boy, he picked Xander up and walked to the doorway.

"Will?"

"Get the car," Spike hissed, his voice rough with pain.

Angel gathered Doyle into his arms and followed his Childe.

Part Thirteen

Angel drove his car up to the ER doors and jumped out to assist his Childe. Spike's features had settled somewhere between human and vampiric, giving his face an oddly frozen look. His eyes glowed as he pressed a corner of the blanket against Xander's throat; dark blood pumped out sluggishly from the wound.

Several medical personnel noticed their arrival and came running out.

"What happened?" one asked, moving to intercept Spike.

"I...we..er don't know," said Angel concentrating on his Childe, who looked ready to attack the humans swarming around his dying lover.

"It was an animal," said Doyle. "A..er...dog...or something. It jumped us when we walked passed this alley way."

One of the medics turned to him; noticing the blood the man called out. "We've got another one here."

"I'm fi..fine," Doyle insisted as two orderlies tried to lift him onto a gurney. "Honest, I-"

"Go with them," said Angel.

Reluctantly, Doyle allowed them to place him on the gurney. Angel was trying to get Spike to relinquish his hold on Xander....without much success. The younger vampire growled, his face rippling. Angel moved in front of him, trying to block the medics' view of his Childe.

"Please, sir," one of them protested. "Let us help your friend."

"Will, give Xander to them." Angel's voice was pitched low and calm. The tone of a Master vampire commanding his Childe. Spike looked at him, then with a snarl he surrendered his hold on the boy. Angel stepped back, fairly confident that Spike wasn't about to attack.

The younger vampire managed to school his features back into a half-human mask as he followed the medical staff into the ER. Angel walked beside his lover as Doyle was wheeled in behind Xander.

The room became a flurry of activity as people rushed around Xander's frighteningly still form - wheeling in machinery, shouting instructions. Angel pulled Spike back when the younger vampire tried to follow the boy into the emergency room. He kept one hand upon his Childe as they watched through the glass door panel.

He could feel the tremors wracking Spike's frame and he squeezed the shoulder beneath his fingers. <Live, Xander. Live> he pleaded silently. To Spike he said softly, "You made the right choice."

"Did I," said Spike flatly.

"Yes," said Angel. "If you'd turned him-" he moved to look into his Childe's face "-he wouldn't *be* Xander, and it's him you're in love with, isn't it."

It wasn't really a question and Spike didn't bother answering. The younger vampire kept his gaze locked on what was going on inside the room. Watching as rich, life giving blood was forced back into his lover's body.

"Penn dies tonight," he said finally.

"Yes," said Angel.

"I get to kill him."

"Yes."

"My way."

A slight hesitation, then a decisive. "Yes."

Eventually the frenetic activity eased and most of the staff melted away. A youngish, floppy haired man came out to speak with them. He smiled kindly. "Your friend's going to be fine. It looked bad I know, and he had lost a lot of blood, but we've replaced that. Now we're getting some fluids into him and he's responding well. We're fairly confident there won't be any lasting damage. We're going to keep him in for a few days, just to be on the safe side, and to let him rest. Okay?"

Angel managed to nod dazedly at the man. Xander was alive, he was going to be all right. He focused on the reassuring 'thud..thud' of the boy's heart and closed his eyes in silent thanks.

Spike had tensed the moment the man said they were keeping Xander. "No," he growled.

"Sorry-?"

"He's not staying here," Spike snarled.

Angel quickly opened his eyes. He made his excuses to the startled looking medic. "It's okay. I....Thank you. I'll talk to my friend."

The man nodded, frowning he walked away. At the end of the corridor he caught hold of a colleague and whispered something to her urgently. The young woman nodded and hurried off.

Angel held Spike's arms and pushed him back against the wall. "Xander is going to be okay, Will, but he's still sick. Let them take care of him. While we take care of Penn. Yes?"

"I'm not leavin' him 'ere," Spike reiterated stubbornly.

Angel sighed. Taking hold of Spike's elbow he dragged the younger vampire into the room.

A woman in a pale pink gown looked up as they came through the door.

"I'm sorry," she began, "You'll have to-"

"A minute, please?" said Angel. "He...We just need to see that he's really all right."

Her face softened. "Okay, but only for a minute. They'll be taking him to a room shortly. You can come back and see him tomorrow, he should be more with us then." She stroked back Xander's fringe, smiling at the boy - completely oblivious to the look Spike gave her. Though she did frown at the low rumbling sound that came from his throat. Angel smiled at her reassuringly. She gave him an uncertain nod and left them alone.

Xander had been cleaned up but traces of blood still smeared his cheeks; they were pale, though his skin had lost its deathly grey tinge. Spike stared, blue-gold eyes suspiciously bright. After a moment he stretched out a shaky hand. The vampire made a choked sound as he very slowly stroked his fingers down Xander's face.

Angel slipped his own hand into the boy's. His face crumpled in relief as he touched the blood warm skin. He held onto the lax fingers for a few seconds, then carefully withdrew his hand. "I'm going to check on Doyle," he said softly. Spike nodded. As Angel pushed open the door he paused and looked back. Spike had sunk down beside the gurney, face pressed against Xander's arm. Leather clad shoulders began to shake gently as William the Bloody, evil soulless creature of the night, wept.

Angel stepped outside and had a few quiet words with the nurse to ensure his Childe was left alone for a little while longer. Then he went to find Doyle.

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

Despite the ER's size and labyrinth-like construction, Angel required no assistance in locating his lover. He had monitored the young man closely from the moment they had entered the building. Shutting out a myriad of other noises - voices, machinery, frantically ringing phones - he listened for the beat of his lover's heart.

He found Doyle perched on the edge of a bed, trying to bat away the attentions of a nurse.

"It don't need stitches. Just stick something over it and let me go find my friends."

"Young man, you are not walking around this hospital dripping blood," the woman insisted. "Let me stitch that up and I'll send someone to check on your friends for you, okay?"

The argument continued until Angel came into view.

"Angel! How-"

"-he's fine," said Angel quickly.

Doyle closed his eyes and swayed forward. Both Angel and the nurse caught him and eased him back up onto the bed.

"*Now* will you let me look at that?" she scolded.

"No," Doyle muttered stubbornly.

Angel gently tilted the young man's head back. "She's right, it needs stitches."

The nurse folded her arms and gave Doyle a 'Well?' look.

He gave in. "All right, do your worst." He allowed her to lay him back on the bed.

Angel hovered close by as the nurse expertly closed the gash and covered it with a strip of gauze.

"Now don't you be wandering off anywhere," she warned. "I want the Doctor to take a look at that swelling. If he says so, I'll bring the release forms and *then* you can go." Doyle nodded and she bustled off leaving the pair alone.

"He's really all right?" Doyle pressed anxiously.

"He's still unconscious," Angel admitted, "but they said he's going to be fine. They're keeping him in for a few days, just to be sure."

Doyle released a shaky sigh. "Thank god," he said. "I thought...I thought.." His voice trailed off.

Angel took hold of his hand, dragging his thumb gently across the knuckles. "I know." He looked down into Doyle's pale, drawn face. "How do *you* feel?"

Doyle smiled faintly at him. "I'm fine." His mouth twisted into a grimace. "I guess being half Bracchen is good for something, yeah."

Angel leaned forward and kissed him softly on the lips. "What happened?" he asked gently.

Doyle sighed. "Psycho boy killed the power. He must'ave been waitin' in the office. We went up there and the next thing I know I'm flyin' into a wall."

"That's when you did this?" Angel asked indicating the cut.

"Not exactly," said Doyle, he looked vaguely embarrassed. "He..that is I'd taken your fightin' axe; he hit me over the head with it." The young man lowered his gaze and missed the way Angel's mouth tightened. The next moment green eyes flickered back up, their gaze bright and hard. "Did you see what that sick fuck-"

"-I saw," said Angel quickly. He'd seen only too clearly. The smears of blood hadn't concealed the jagged message carved into the boy's chest ~ a cross, and the words 'sweet child'. Angel's jaw clenched. The cuts hadn't been deep but they would scar. Xander would bear a lasting physical reminder of his ordeal. At least, terrible as it had appeared, the savage throat bite would fade. Strangely, a vampire's fangs never left a lasting mark.

Angel's imagination tortured him with an image of Xander, rigid with fear and pain, while Penn scored into his skin with a harpy knife. Ghostly memories of brutalities long past came to him; as clear now as in the time of their making. He'd taught his Childe the 'fun' to be had with the small, but deadly blade. A silver harpy knife had been a first gift to his new Childe ~ along with the suggestion that the young man make his sister his first kill.

A warm hand touched his face startling him out of his remembrances. He flinched automatically and then relaxed into Doyle's hesitant touch.

"It's not your fault," the young man told him, as if reading his thoughts.

"Isn't it?"

"No," said Doyle more firmly. "Sure, you turned him and I've no doubt you taught him stuff, but he has his own mind, his own will."

"He's controlled by his demon-" Angel began.

Doyle cut him off "-and back then so were you. For that matter so is Spike. Things are never black and white. You know that."

Angel wasn't ready to be absolved of his guilt just yet. "If I hadn't-"

"-if you hadn't been turned yourself then you would never had done him," said Doyle. "Then Spike, and Penn, *and* you, would all be dust and bones and this would never have happened. Fair enough, I accept that, but then who's to say me and Xander wouldn't have met with worse trouble if you hadn't been who you are."

Angel frowned at him.

"The point I'm making is how many times have you saved my neck? What if you weren't here and I'd had to run this racket with some other guy? Some other guy who maybe wouldn't be as good at this stuff." He added, "And what about Xander. You helped in Sunnydale. Haven't you saved his neck a few times."

An image came unbidden into Angel's mind ~ Xander, eyes bulging, face purpling as Faith choked the life out of his body. "Maybe," he conceded reluctantly.

"Besides," Doyle continued, "it's not like he targeted the kid cos of something you did. It's Spike who's got him all twisty."

Angel looked thoughtful.

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

The Doctor who eventually came to examine Doyle pronounced the young man fit to go home. They signed the necessary forms and hurried to rejoin Spike.

Angel had to quell a flare of near-panic when he found the ER room deserted. Surely Spike had enough sense not to take the injured boy? Knowing how impulsive Spike could be, Angel wasn't one hundred percent certain. Doyle set his mind at rest by flagging down a nurse.

Xander had been transferred to a room upstairs. Spike had apparently 'convinced' the staff to let him accompany the boy.

Aided with the necessary directions they traced the pair to a room on the fourth floor. Xander was now hooked up to a heart monitor and a saline drip, but he was breathing unaided. Spike was hunched in a chair beside the bed, head bowed, shoulders rigid. Long, slender white fingers repeatedly stroked the boy's hand.

Angel recognised the signs ~ Spike was wound up and ready to blow. Time to take his Childe home before the inevitable eruption drew undesired attention. "Wait out here," he told Doyle quietly.

Spike didn't turn round as Angel entered. When he spoke his voice was low and rough with emotion. "I told him I'd keep him safe. I *promised* him I wouldn't let that bastard touch him again. I promised him..."

Angel walked forward until he stood directly behind his Childe. He placed a hand upon the younger vampire's shoulder, the muscles bunched painfully tight. "We have to go, Will."

"*No*," Spike replied fiercely.

"Will-"

"-I'm not leavin' him."

Angel steeled himself. He knew there was only one way to get through to Spike when he was acting this way. "Fine. I'm sure Xander will feel a million times better when the nurse opens the blinds in the morning and he has to brush you off the bed."

Spike's head jerked round to face him. Gold eyes bright, teeth bared as he slipped into his game face.

"Watch that," Angel continued, hardening his heart against the grief in those yellow-gold eyes. "Go out there now and they'll shoot you full of drugs and stick you in a locked ward." His necessarily harsh words had the desire effect. Spike continued to stare at him hatefully as he shifted his face back into a near human guise and stood up.

As he made to leave Spike turned to Xander. Leaning down, he kissed him gently on the mouth with a tenderness few saw.....and even fewer would have believed.

The door opened suddenly. "Guys, I hate to interrupt but I think were gonna have company if we don't move now."

They moved to see what Doyle was talking about. At the nurses station, two uniformed officers were speaking to the young woman on duty. An older nurse stood with them.

"He spoke to her," said Spike.

Angel frowned at the apparently meaningless statement. "Who?"

"The bloke who said Xander had to stay here," said Spike narrowing his gaze at the officers. "After he'd talked to us he nattered with her. He was flapping about summat."

"What'ya bettin' that summat is us," said Doyle.

Angel silently agreed. It was typical that Spike had picked up on the exchange. Though the fact that the younger vampire had been giving the medic his best 'you're dead' look had no doubt helped his focus.

"Time to go?" Doyle asked anxiously.

"Time to go," said Angel.

As the two officers turned in the direction the duty nurse was pointing, the lift door was closing behind a billowing coat tail.

Part Fourteen

With no real idea of where to start looking for Penn, they drove back to the apartment. Angel had barely pulled up when Spike leapt out and stormed into the building. Angel cut the engine and slumped in his seat. The stress and strain of the past few hours had settled in his body with the presence of a persistent, gnawing ache. He was tired, so very tired.

"You okay?"

Angel turned his head to look at his lover and smiled wearily. "Yeah."

"Look," Doyle continued, "I'm gonna go in and lie down for a bit." Seeing Angel's concerned expression he quickly added, "I feel fine, I just need to get my head together that's all. Tonight was a bit much, if you have my meaning."

Angel did. He also knew that Doyle was making himself scarce in order to afford him some privacy. The time had finally come for that long overdue chat with Spike. He wasn't looking forward to it. They went inside. Once they were in the apartment, Doyle made for the bedroom. Angel stopped him with a hand to his arm.

Doyle's expression was grim. "I know. I'll see if I can..er..clean up a bit."

"You don't have to-" Angel began.

"-I don't mind," Doyle lied. "Best we get it cleaned up, yeah." He slipped past the vampire, took a moment to steel himself for what lay within, and then went inside. He closed the door softly behind him.

Angel stared after him, his expression torn. He hadn't wanted to leave Xander, and he didn't want to leave his lover alone now, but his Childe's pain called out to him and he had to answer. It drew him up to the roof. He found Spike sat, cross legged, leaning back against the low wall. The younger vampire looked up as he stepped out onto the rooftop.

Cold eyes narrowed and Spike took a long hard pull on his cigarette. "I suppose you want to talk?" he growled. His face had shifted into its true form and gold eyes burned brightly in the darkness.

Angel shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "That depends. Do you have something you want to tell me?"

"Not really," Spike drawled, "but something tells me if I don't you'll be a bloody pain the arse about it."

Angel didn't respond to the jibe. He simply walked over and sat down beside his Childe, who, after a moments pause, handed him his cigarette. They stayed like that for a while, sharing the smoke between them, not saying anything. Enjoying the silence. When the cigarette was burned to a stub Spike flicked it away; tiny sparks flew up, dying quickly.

"It was after you'd gone off with her," Spike began softly. "He was being a right wanker. Ordering me and Dru about. Pretending he was the boss of us. We didn't care for it much."

"And you let him know that," Angel guessed.

Spike laughed in bitter amusement. "Too bloody right we did. Drove him crazy between the pair of us." He fell silent again.

"What happened, Will?" Angel asked gently, though in his soul he feared he already knew.

"Cunning bastard waited until Dru had one of her 'moments' didn't he. I was on my way back from town." Spike smiled in sad recollection. "She wanted ribbons for her hair. I'd got her some." His expression turned vicious. "He rode me down on that bloody nag of his and then hit me with a lump of wood." Gold eyes regarded Angel, their gaze curiously flat and dull. "Do I really need to tell you the rest?"

"He raped you," said Angel quietly, his voice tight with pain and anger.

"-and then some," said Spike looking away. "Twisted little prick was inventive, I'll give him that." His mouth tilted cruelly as he glanced back at his Sire. "Picked up a few tricks from you he had."

"I'm sorry," Angel whispered hoarsely.

Spike shrugged. "Not your fault, you weren't there."

"I should have been," said Angel pinning Spike with his gaze. "I should never have left you," he added softly. Reaching out, he stroked along one sharp cheekbone. They both knew he meant more than his ill-fated trip to Paris.

"You was different," said Spike. "You didn't want me."

"I never stopped," Angel insisted. "I never stopped wanting you."

Without need for words or questioning glances they drew closer. Lips touched lightly, tasting sorrow and desire.

"Want me now?" said Spike.

Angel saw the pain in his Childe's eyes and understood. He knew how overwhelming memories could be; how the tide of the past could sweep the present out from under you and leave you drowning. Added to the grief of that remembered night was a fresh agony. Spike had almost lost Xander. He needed comfort. The kind only his Sire could give.

Angel hesitated only briefly; he knew he couldn't refuse Spike this. He loved Doyle from the depths of his unbeating heart to the far reaches of his soul, but his Childe filled a void no other could inhabit. Less love, more a raw open need; one that drove them to find each other across continents and centuries.

A cold heartless passion? ~ Perhaps. Nevertheless, no time, no distance, however great could free them of this dependency.

Angel let his fingers drift downward, caressing the delicate skin of Spike's throat. The younger vampire closed his eyes and leaned into the touch with a tiny sigh. Dark eyes narrowed, then flared gold as desire stirred between them. He continued to let his fingers play along the edge of Spike's open collar, slipping just beneath the cloth to touch the cool flesh beneath.

He didn't take another kiss, though he ached to claim those thin cruel lips. Instead, with the ease of long practice, he stripped himself and his Childe; laying the leather coats down on the damp rooftop. Spike neither assisted nor desisted, remaining mutely malleable to his Master's will. Angel pushed Spike back onto the coats. Skin gleamed pearl ~ a ghostly iridescence, pale and flawless. No, Angel reminded himself, not quite flawless.

A jagged scar bisected one ruffled eyebrow, giving his Childe a rakish air. Then there were the scars that covered his back. Angel knew each one by memory, each slight ridge and twisted pucker. Inhumanly sensitive fingertips had mapped out the faded web more than a century past.

He still recalled the rage that had consumed him when he'd beheld the pattern of scars across his new Childe's back. Not because Spike had been whipped - such things were not uncommon and he would take the lash to the young vampire many times in their turbulent relationship. No, it was because someone had dared touch what was now his; no matter that it had been done years earlier.

He had never told Spike that the man who'd flogged him was dead before they'd left for Rome.

Angelus had drawn the truth out from his Childe. By good fortune the man who'd wielded the whip still ran his small business and occupied the same lodgings. Or rather, good fortune for Angelus. It was most unfortunate for the man, who came home one evening to find the vampire waiting for him in the walled yard. Angelus had literally torn his victim limb from limb, delighting in the man's agonised shrieks and dying moans - before escaping across the rooftops as neighbouring tenants summoned the courage to investigate the dreadful din.

Angel lay down and turned Spike toward him, letting his fingers travel along those same faint scars. Then he kissed him; tenderly at first, lips gliding softly against each other, tongues tentatively following the same path. Wordless reassurances and unspoken comfort. The kisses grew more urgent as their desire spiralled out between them.

Fangs cut deep, tearing open jagged slashes, streaking moon-white skin with scarlet. Grunts and growls sliced through the silence as they lapped at the bloody smears, probing the wounds to bring forth more. Blood hunger and frenzied passion were fuelled and fed as they thrust against each other. With an impatient snarl, Angel pushed Spike onto his belly - drawing him up so the younger vampire knelt on all fours.

He prepared his Childe quickly. Blood and saliva were the only lubricants on hand and Spike howled as Angel plunged into him. For a moment Angel held still; both vampires trembling with need and effort. Then he began to thrust. Spike's cries changed to ragged mewls as he pushed himself back onto Angel's hard length, their bodies moving in tandem as they drove against each other.

Angel clutched his Childe's slender hips as he sank in and out of the younger vampire's trembling body. With a sudden cry he arched back, head turned toward the night sky as he came, spilling his seed deep into the tight channel. Spike thrust himself back - once....twice more - and then came too, his howl ringing out across the rooftops.

They both sank down onto the hard ground. Angel slipped free of Spike and pulled the shivering vampire into his arms. No words were spoken as they lay there, and after a time, still in silence, they dressed and went down. Doyle was waiting in the main room. He was laid on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. He got to his feet at they entered.

Angel met his lover's gaze and swallowed sharply, uncertain what to say. He knew Doyle was aware of what they'd done. Even a human could have picked up on the signs. However, Doyle showed neither surprise nor distress at their dishevelled, bloodied appearance. Angel blinked, a little startled, when the young man smiled gently.

"You two's best get cleaned up. I've made the bed. I'm turning in now." Still wearing that strange little smile he wandered away into the bedroom.

Not overt perhaps, but definitely an invitation - an invitation that had been extended to them both.

Angel steered his still shaking Childe into the bathroom. He turned on the shower and led an unresisting Spike under the hot spray. Once they were done he nudged Spike out of the cubicle. Spike remained subdued as he took the towel Angel held out to him. He didn't speak until they were outside the bedroom.

"I want to find him."

"It's nearly dawn," Angel pointed out, "and we have no idea where to look."

Spike's face shimmered and gold eyes changed to Adriatic blue. "He'll find us."

"Yes," said Angel simply.

"So we wait?"

Angel nodded.

"I hate waiting."

Angel couldn't help but smile in fond amusement. "I know."

"Fuck," Spike muttered.

Angel took his hand. "Come to bed, maybe tomorrow we'll think of something."

Spike nodded reluctantly but didn't move.

Angel prompted him, "Will?"

"What about?" Spike indicated the closed door with a nod of his head.

"It's a big bed," said Angel softly.

Spike seemed to consider this, then he gave another terse nod and they went inside.

Doyle had purposely positioned himself on the far right side, leaving the rest of the bed free for the two vampires. Still holding onto Spike, Angel got in beside his lover, gently tugging Spike down to lay with him. Doyle draped an arm around Angel's waist and snuggled closer. Angel moved back into the embrace, drawing Spike with him.

Each relied upon the other to hold the nightmares at bay as exhaustion stole over them, pulling them into any uneasy, unsettled sleep.

Part Fifteen

Xander awoke to a world of pain - from tiny tremulous twinges to a deep throbbing ache centred around his heavily bandaged throat. He forced his eyes open a crack and closed them again hurriedly when the bright blurry images induced a rush of nausea. If this was the afterlife he was singularly unimpressed.

He remained quite still, eyes pressed shut, until a metallic rattling goaded his curiosity. It got louder, stopping somewhere near the bed. Xander re-opened his eyes and slowly the room swam into focus. He found himself staring into cheerful, smiling face - all crooked white teeth and chaotic, spiky blond hair. The young man was pushing a small wheeled tray. "Hiya, how ya doing this fine morning?"

"Ughhzzt," said Xander with feeling.

"Yeah, you don't look too bright," the young man admitted. "Don't worry 'bout it. The Doc'll be round in five. He'll fix you with something that'll perk you right up."

<I'll take two of whatever you're on> Xander thought, trying to push himself further up the bed.

"Woah! Easy there fella," said the man rushing to assist. "You don't wanna be movin' around too much yet."

Xander found he had to agree with this assessment when a roll of dizzy nausea rushed up from his belly, burning the back of his throat. "Oh boy," he groaned. He swallowed hard and allowed the man to prop him back against the lumpy pillows.

"That better?"

"Mmm," said Xander wondering if he was about to throw up.

"Okay then, let's get you cleaned up."

<Huh?>

"Got to have you bright and shiny for the Doc," the man continued cheerfully.

Xander watched as he pulled the covering towel off his tray - revealing a small bowl of steaming water and a dull yellow sponge. "Lo.. look ...I'm f-fine.." he protested weakly.

The young man waved off his protestations and proceeded to give him a fairly thorough but surprisingly gentle wash. It actually felt pretty good, and in the end Xander just laid back and went with it. Someone had removed his heart monitor while he'd slept and the man worked around his saline drip with smooth professionalism.

Xander tensed when the man undid his gown to wipe the sponge across his chest; self conscious of the marks that had been left uncovered. However, the man showed no curiosity, and it was all over in less than a minute. Xander was patted dry and covered back up before he could chill.

"Good?"

"Yeah, th-thanks."

The man grinned toothily and nodded. He called out a cheery, "Catch ya later," as he pushed his rattling trolley out the door.

Xander closed his eyes, suddenly very tired again. He only meant to rest them but he must have fallen back to sleep. The sound of voices woke him. A middle aged man, and a dour looking woman stood on either side of his bed.

"Good morning, Mr...," the doctor frowned, "Hmm, it appears we don't have your name. Perhaps you could oblige me?"

Xander thought quickly - not an easy task with a head apparently full of cotton wool. "Giles, Alexander Giles." <Hope you don't mind G-man.>

"Well, Mr Giles. Let's have just have a quick look at you shall we."

For the next few minutes Xander was prodded, poked, and talked over.

Irritated, he found himself too tired to object. He did gather that they were delighted with his progress - actually astounded would be nearer the mark. The doctor joked that Xander must be taking his vitamins.

<Yeah> Xander thought dryly <I'm doing iron supplements> He had no doubts that his near miraculous recovery could be put down to his status as Spike's consort and the odd slurp of vamp blood. Apparently his lover had forgotten to mention this handy healing factor.

"All done," the doctor announced. "We just need to take a few details for our records."

Xander bluffed his way through the next few minutes. He was twenty-one. He was new in town. No, he didn't have insurance or any I.D; his wallet must have been lost during the attack. They didn't seem overly concerned with his answers. The nurse scribbled down his replies on a number of different coloured forms.

"That's about it for us," said the doctor. "Now, do you feel up to answering a few more questions, Mr Giles?"

"M-more?" Xander stammered.

"You suffered a very serious attack," said the doctor gravely, "and if it weren't for the prompt actions of your friends, it could have been much worse."

<I could have died> Xander thought numbly.

"We felt it prudent, in the light of a possible dangerous loose animal, to contact the police," the doctor continued. "However, your friends failed to stay to talk with the officers last night, so someone would like to speak with you about what happened."

Xander tensed. "The Police?"

"Yes, may I tell her to come in?"

"Okay," said Xander faintly. His heart quickened. <Calm. I am calm>

He wished he knew what exactly the others *had* said when they'd brought him in. <Animal attack?!> He decided to fall back on an age old safety measure - when in doubt deny everything.

The doctor and the nurse left. A moment later the door swung open again and an attractive blonde woman with cool expression entered. To Xander's experienced eyes she practically screamed *authority*. She had that brisk, no nonsense air about her that he was used to seeing in games teachers and other generally un-likeable types.

She nodded her head by way of a brusque greeting. He responded in kind, feeling less happy with the situation by the second.

"Mr Giles?"

"Er..yeah."

"I'm Detective Lockley. I understand that you were attacked by some sort of mysterious animal last night?"

Xander swallowed hard. The action served as an unwelcome reminder of his recently abused throat. "Look, I..I really don't remember mu-"

"-then let's start with what you do remember," she cut in smoothly. She consulted her notes. One of your friends stated that it was some kind of a dog. Can you add anything to that?"

"Not really," said Xander. She arched an eyebrow at him. "It was dark. I didn't...see anything."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Well, the doctor seems to support your friend's theory that it was probably some kind of large dog. Your throat wound is apparently consistent with a canine attack."

"Well, see, there you go then," said Xander, offering the woman a nervous smile. "Big bad dog."

"Hmm," she said non-committally. "Except I don't know of any dog breed that can write." She looked at him sharply. "Do you Mr Giles?"

"Wha-what?" Xander stammered.

The Detective looked back down at her note pad. "The Doctor who treated you was quite insistent that the marks on your chest were not random scratches. He wrote down what he believed they spelled out." She held a slip of paper out to Xander. "This is what he gave me."

With a trembling hand Xander took the note. Memories assailed him. The slow, precise cuts the vampire had made as he lay helpless. His breathing quickened. "I.....I ...d-don't know...what..it...means." He thrust the note back at her.

She accepted it, watching him closely. "Are you sure it was an animal that attacked you, Mr Giles. Could it in fact have been a man?" She leaned toward him. "Or something *like* a man?"

Dark eyes focused on her, wide and shocky. "I...I don't know...." Xander began to hyperventilate.

She either didn't notice or chose to ignore his distress. "Well perhaps your friends can cast some more light. Now they've had chance to think about what happened. Can I have their names and addresses so I can check with them?"

Xander shook his head. "I d-don't know.."

"You don't know who they are or where they live?" Her tone was disbelieving.

"No," said Xander. "I....we..only met..last night." Spots were beginning to form in front of his eyes. His hand reached blindly for the silent buzzer hanging down beside his bed, pressing it desperately several times.

"Can you at least describe them for me," she persisted. "Where did you meet them? In a club?"

Xander looked past her as the door opened. He'd never been so grateful for medical intervention in his life. The nurse frowned as she took in his agitated state.

"I think that's quite enough questioning for now. Mr Giles needs his rest," she informed the detective frostily.

"I need to-"

"- perhaps you'd like to come back tomorrow," the nurse continued as if the Detective hadn't spoken. "Mr Giles will probably be well enough to answer any further questions then."

It wasn't a suggestion and the detective reluctantly allowed the nurse her 'home victory.' "Right. I'll come back tomorrow," she agreed coolly. "Hopefully your memory will be feeling refreshed by then too." She left without another word.

The nurse's expression softened as soon as the door closed. "Now then, hon, are you gonna be okay, or shall I ask the doctor to bring you something?"

The only two things Xander wanted were his lover and a ride home. Since he couldn't have either right now he shook his head.

She helped him lie back down. "Okay then, hon. You just get some rest. I'll make sure she don't come back to bother you."

Xander smiled gratefully and closed his eyes. Within minutes his breathing had slowed, and the drugs still swirling through his bloodstream steered him into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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