The Situation

By Esmeralda

Part Twenty-One

The heavy, musky odour of sex and the pungent smell of cigarette smoke permeated the office. Angel frowned, taking in the sight of his shirtless Childe and a sleeping Xander. The boy was curled up on the bench, clothed, and partially covered with Spike's battered duster; a bare foot poked out from beneath the black leather.

"Well, peaches. You made your mind up yet?" The blasé tone didn't camouflage the tension emanating from the younger vampire. Spike was anxious for his Sire and fighting hard not to show it.

Angel's frown faded into weariness and he leaned against the door-frame. "Bring Xander downstairs, he'll be comfier in my room. We need to talk."

Spike's face tightened. Without a word he stood and scooped up his lover - coat and all - cradling the boy gently against his chest. Xander murmured sleepily.

"Sssh," Spike whispered. "It's all right, pet." Xander responded to the vampire's voice, relaxing back into sleep.

The three went below stairs. Doyle was sitting on the couch, his face pale and pinched looking. Spike took Xander through into the bedroom and carefully laid him out on the bed; he left the boy his duster and dragged the edge of a blanket over him. Then he went back through to rejoin the others. "So," he drawled. "What's new?"

Angel stood in the centre of the room, back stiff, arms folded. He shared a brief glance with Doyle and then looked at his Childe. "I'm going to try and change my curse," he said quietly.

Spike stiffened, imperceptible to any one but his Sire. "Right," he said flatly. "So, what do you want from me?" His tone was almost hostile.

Angel knew his Childe. He could read the fear and worry in those cold blue eyes, as such he wasn't irritated by Spike's petulance, recognising its defensive nature. "I need your promise." He narrowed his gaze. "Your solemn word, Will."

The younger vampire swallowed hard. "What for?"

"If this goes wrong, and I lose my soul...." Angel hesitated.

Spike crossed the room and flung himself down onto the couch. "Get to the point. I'm losing interest."

Doyle opened his mouth as if to say something but Angel waved him silent. "All right, to 'get to the point'. If I lose my soul, I want you to stake me."

Spike's indifferent slouch changed immediately as the younger vampire leapt back up, shaking his head. "No fuckin' way," he hissed.

"Will-"

"-forget it," Spike cut in. "I am not going to shove a bit of wood into your chest and watch you turn into a cloud of fuckin' dust." Blue-gold eyes turned hurt and angry. "You're.. You're my *Sire*. I won't...I can't-" He stopped, as if realising he'd said too much. With a snarl he turned and stormed off.

"Stay here," Angel told Doyle. Then he went after his Childe.

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

He found Spike pacing back and forth the kitchen. With a violent curse the younger vampire picked up a chair and threw it blindly -

-Angel ducked and it sailed over his head and crashed against the wall. He quickly marched up to his Childe and pulled the second chair out of Spike's hands. "Stop it," he ordered. "Sit down."

Spike stood, gold eyes wide and hostile.

"Sit," Angel repeated. A moments hesitation and Spike obeyed. Angel suppressed a sigh and sat back against the edge of the table. He reached out, laying his hand upon Spike's shoulder; he could feel the tremors wracking his Childe's slender frame. He started in surprise when Spike lowered his head; laying his face against the older vampire's legs.

Angel realised he had truly shaken his Childe with his request. Spike was stubborn and self-willed, but that didn't alter his underlying nature. A vampire was bound to their Sire by bonds of blood and fealty - for a Childe to strike against its creator was an act akin to an abomination.

Angel knew this. He had stared into the horrified eyes of his maker and lover of more than a hundred years - just before her beautiful face turned to dust. Part of him had been lost forever in that moment and she haunted him still in his dreams. Now he was asking his Childe to suffer that same horror. Spike had been prepared to kill him once, but that was before their reconciliation, when Spike had seen him as a stranger.

"Will?" Angel whispered. The blond vampire kept his head down. Angel stroked the short blond waves soothingly. "Will, I'm sorry. If there was any other way."

Spike slowly raised his head. He had shed all traces of his human guise and he looked upon his Sire with his true face - the face Angel had given him. "Why?" he asked bewildered. "Why would you want to give it all up?" It was clear it was beyond his comprehension.

Angel touched his Childe's face sadly. "I'm not like you, Will. I can't exist like that any more. You know what I am capable of." His voice was rough with grief. "You, Doyle, Xander - none of you would be safe. I'd kill you all and then-"

"-kill the Slayer." Spike nodded dully. He understood. Angelus was more than 'just another vampire', more than just a Master vampire; he was a walking apocalypse who would drag the whole world down into a violent, bloody end.

"Then you know why I'm asking this," said Angel.

Another nod.

"So, you'll do it? I have your word?" Angel asked.

Spike stood, pushing his chair back. He stared at Angel for a moment, his expression shuttered. Then he walked away.

Angel followed him into the main room. Doyle looked up anxiously as they entered. "Will-" Angel began.

Spike spun around so suddenly that even the older vampire flinched back. "Yes," he hissed in a low whisper. "I'll bloody well do it." His voice rose. "I'll kill you and I'll dance on your fuckin' grave. Satisfied?"

"Wha-what?"

All three turned toward the direction of the voice. A sleepy, rumpled Xander, in wrinkled jeans and shirt, was staring aghast at his lover. Spike was beside him in less than a heartbeat. The vampire took the startled boy into his arms. After a stunned pause, Xander returned the embrace, holding Spike close. Spike eventually pulled away and guided Xander over to the couch; Doyle shuffled along to make room. Bewildered brown eyes looked back and forth between the two vampires. "I heard-" Xander's brow creased in confusion "-I thought I heard," he continued.

"You did," said Spike bluntly. "Peaches here, wants to mess around with his curse. If it all goes to hell he wants a first class ticket." He glared at his Sire.

Xander took a second to work out what his lover was telling him. His eyes widened in horror. "No!" he exclaimed. "Why-"

"-You should know why," Angel snapped. Why couldn't any of them understand? His expression hardened. "I nearly killed you, Xander. You escaped because you got lucky. That kind of luck rarely strikes twice. This time I'd probably torture you for a few days, break all your bones, stab knives through your eyes, and then tear out your throat. Is that what you want?"

"Back off," Spike growled. He'd felt Xander tense, now he could feel the tremors running through his lover's body. "We get the bloody message. You're more of a wanker without your soddin' soul than you are with it. Point taken. I've said I'll do it."

"It's not enough," said Angel. "I need the same promise from all of you."

Spike bared his fangs and hissed. "Leave Xander out of this," he warned.

Angel shook his head despairingly. "If I could I would, believe me. But if I kill you before you stake me, then it's going to be up to him or Doyle to do it."

"No." Spike's voice was cold and hard. "I don't want him any where near you when we try this. He's no match for you and you know it. I won't have you putting him at risk."

Angel looked torn. He was no happier at the thought of dragging Xander into danger. Perhaps Spike was right and it would be better to send the boy away. Doyle too.

Xander's soft voice cut through the tension. "I'll do it." Three stunned faces turned toward him. "You want my word that I'll stake you if you turn into 'him', right?" he asked. "Okay, you have it. You lose your soul for good. I'll stake you." Xander was pale, but perfectly composed.

Spike frowned but he nodded. "If that's what you want, pet."

"I want to help," said Xander. His stomach balked at the thought of even *hurting* the older vampire, but more than anything he didn't want to be kept out of this. He was one of them now - he'd take the pain and the risks with the rest of it.

"Thank you," said Angel simply. His eyes carried much more, and Xander smiled sadly at him. Angel turned to the only one in the room who still remained silent. Haunted green eyes regarded him unhappily. "Doyle?"

The half-demon nodded. "You have my word." His voice cracked and he stood up quickly. "I'd...I'd better go."

"Go?" Angel echoed in disbelief.

"I need to change and...clean up." Doyle refused to meet any of their startled gazes as he backed away toward the stairs.

Angel took a step toward him. "Doyle-"

"It's all right," said Doyle quickly. "I'll see you in an hour or two, okay." With that he practically bolted away.

Even Xander heard the young man lose it on the last step - a sharp intake of breath and a ragged sob reached them just before the door closed. Angel made as if to follow, and then stopped. Doyle needed some space. He understood - even if it hurt. Schooling his features he turned back to the others. "I want you both to stay down here," he said flatly, "and keep it quiet. I don't want Cordelia suspecting anything."

Subdued, they nodded silently. When Angel left, Spike steered Xander back to bed. Shucking off his boots and trousers he lay down, spooning himself around the boy. Exhaustion eventually claimed Xander. Spike lay awake, staring into the shadows.

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

Angel sat alone in his office. When Cordelia arrived he tuned out her bright chatter, listening for the sound of familiar footsteps and a soft Irish lilt. The young woman spent much of the morning complaining, apparently convinced that 'phantom Dennis' had followed her to work. How else was it possible that her favourite pen was missing, her cup was broken, the computer refused to work and the whole outer office smelt - as she put it - funky.

Doyle arrived just before twelve and immediately volunteered to take Cordelia to lunch. Angel watched them leave. The half-demon spared him a brief, guilty glance before closing the door. Angel turned away.

The pair didn't return until nearly two. Cordelia had bought a deodorising spray which she used to over-effect around the entire office, making Doyle sneeze and Angel's eyes sting. When the vampire asked her to desist, she flounced back to her desk and sat pouting at her blank computer screen, pressing keys and buttons to no avail.

Angel had found a way of ensuring her absence for the next few days. He wanted her well out of harms way in case things went wrong (and just out of the way in general, if they went right.) He'd rang a magic shop, far enough outside the city limits that she'd have to take a room for the night, and placed an order. Cordelia was not pleased when he asked her to collect it - siting job descriptions and wage allowances.

Angel silenced her protests with a more than generous expenses cheque and the promise of a couple of extra free days to recover from the long drive. Then he told her to go home early.

"Why didn't you just give her a few days off?"

Angel turned to face Doyle, who had made himself scarce while the vampire had tried to pacify Cordelia. "She would have been suspicious. This way she'll be out of the way and she won't ask any questions."

Doyle could see the logic behind this reasoning. "Fair enough. What di'yer send her for any ways?"

The corners of Angel's mouth curled upward. "A Reiser stone."

"Yer jokin'?" Doyle's eyes widened and he chuckled softly, "and she thought the office smelt weird." A Resier stone wasn't a stone at all, at least not a geological one. It was the gall stone of a Torus demon. Rare, useful in some protection spells, and extremely malodorous. "You do realise she'll hit you with the cleaning bill for her car. She'll be demanding the full valet treatment to get the stench out of her upholstery."

Angel shrugged. "It doesn't matter." He'd moved closer as they'd talked. Now he stood near enough to detect the varying scents of Doyle's skin, overlaid with warm soap and crisp, cool after-shave. He could pick up something else too - Fear. "You're afraid," he said softly. "Why?"

Green eyes blinked and then narrowed. "You know it's not good manners t'be sniffin' a guy without at least askin' him first."

"Sorry." Angel stepped back.

Doyle grabbed his arm. "Wait, don't. I...I'm just a little rattled." The young man sighed and ran his other hand through his hair, ruffling up the short black tufts. "I'm the one who should be sayin' sorry. Running off like that and avoidin' yer all day." He offered the vampire a faint smile. "Lunch was horrible. I couldn't eat a thing and Cordelia got riled cos I wasn't listenin' to her." He looked down to wear his hand still rested on Angel's arm. "All I could think of was you," he admitted softly.

Angel reached out and caught the younger man's chin, drawing his head back up. He brushed his thumb across Doyle's lips. "You still want this?"

"You thought I didn't?" Doyle sounded alarmed. "What, cos I went to lunch with Cordy?"

The vampire sighed. "I wasn't sure if you were avoiding me because you'd changed your mind.. or," he shrugged," I don't know. I'm not sure what I thought. I'm not very good at all this."

"And you think I am," said Doyle. "My last relationship ended when it hit trouble and I crawled into a bottle and hoped it'd all go away." The young man's mouth twisted bitterly. "Come to think of it, I tried the same thing this time, didn't I?" He shook his head. "You'd think I'd learn."

"You were upset," said Angel. "It was understandable."

Doyle frowned and looked closely at the vampire - he saw only gentle acceptance in those dark eyes. "I like this," he said softly.

Angel looked enquiringly at him.

Doyle tried to explain. "You don't judge me. You just-" he shook his head lightly "- you just understand. No questions, no accusations. It's 'nice'." The inadequacy of the word made him grimace.

"Yes, it is," said Angel softly.

"We have a good thing going," said Doyle. "D'yer think we're doing right here?"

Angel looked into worried green eyes. He knew what Doyle was asking. It was the same question he had asked himself over and over during the past few hours. They had a strong friendship - a close friendship. Even if this worked what would it do to that friendship. "I don't know," he replied honestly. "I do know that I love you, and I want to make this work."

"A half-breed and a vampire, not the most promising mix," said Doyle. "Mind you, I lay that we have as good odds as blondie and brat-boy." The nervous humour jarred with the pain in his voice.

Angel arched an eyebrow at the nicknames. "They seem to think it's worth the struggle," he said simply.

"Meaning, do I?" Doyle asked. He sighed. "I've thought about it. I've done nothing else all day *but* think about it." He looked down at the floor, biting his lower lip anxiously.

Angel waited in an agony of not knowing.

Doyle raised his head and met Angel's gaze without flinching. Green eyes flashed fiercely; there was no mistaking the determination in them. "I want you, I want this. I'll do whatever it takes to make it work."

Angel couldn't speak, he just nodded and squeezed the fingers still resting on his arm.

Part Twenty-Two

Xander rolled over and found himself nose to nose with his lover. He drew back. The vampire was asleep, or at least doing a passable impression of it, eyelids softly closed, features lax. Xander took the opportunity to study the face before him. The warm, orangy glow of numerous lamps slipped in through the open doorway, bathing Spike in light and shadow.

Short, blond waves - closely cropped - framed fine boned features. A slender face, but a strong one, with a cruel, sensuous mouth and high, sharp cheekbones. His lashes, like his brows were dark; incongruous against the unearthly pallor. Xander mused what his lover's natural colouring might be. Was it dark like Angel's, or fair? He found it difficult to imagine Spike any different to this. Occasionally he'd tried to picture Spike as human, but it just didn't seem to fit.

It was strange to think that if Spike had remained a living, breathing being, he would now be a mouldering skeleton in some long forgotten grave. The thought chilled him. Was it wrong - to be grateful that Spike had been turned? Xander looked at the scar bisecting one ruffled eyebrow. He remembered the reason for it and snuggled closer.

A very familiar hardness brushed against his thigh and he smiled. Sexually, Spike was far more demanding than Anya had ever been, but this time it didn't bother him in the least. With Anya he'd grown confused and resentful. With Spike he just wanted more. He knew why. This time those 'interlocking parts' actually did interlock. There were no doubts or hesitations on his part. Everything felt good, better than good.

Caught up in fond recollections, Xander jumped when the vampire's eyes suddenly flicked open. Spike's mobile mouth stretched into a lazy, cat-like smile. Feline contentment oozed from every pore; his earlier distress seemingly forgotten. Xander wasn't particularly surprised, Spike wasn't one for wearing his heart on his sleeve. However, he doubted the vampire had really rid himself of his fears.

Xander recognised the display of uncaring indifference for what it was - an act. He was willing to play along.

Spike must have read something in his expression. The vampire looked at him closely "What's going on in that strange little head of yours?"

Xander offered him a secretive smile. "Interlocking parts."

"Huh?" Spike spent about half a second trying to decipher the comment, then he simply shrugged it aside. His smile came back at full wattage. "Feelin' refreshed, pet?"

"Maybe," Xander teased. "Depends what you have in mind." The words had barely left his mouth when Spike leaned in and kissed him.

The kiss had a strange, slow urgency to it. The desire was there but it was restrained; coiled heat beneath the surface. Skilful fingers removed the rest of Xander's clothing and he arched up against Spike's body. The vampire gasped into the kiss and began to move against him. Like the kiss, the gentle thrusting was slow and steady - a rocking of hips to a silent rhythm.

Spike's tongue swirled around his mouth, stroking over his teeth, beckoning his tongue forward to join the dance. Xander moaned softly and answered the call, pushing his tongue into his lover's mouth, tasting smoke and blood and Spike. It was intoxicating. He broke the kiss and pulled back to stare into his lover's eyes. Blue orbs ringed with gold looked back at him uncertainly. Xander smiled - oh *yes* he wanted this;
he'd die before he gave it up.

Eagerly he leaned in to recapture his lover's mouth. This time Spike pulled back, his expression playful. Xander answered with a mock pout and Spike brought his mouth back down, nibbling Xander's bottom lip before sucking on it gently. The kiss began again, slow and deep and sweeter than Xander could ever have imagined. He knew Spike to be a skilled lover, and a surprisingly thoughtful one, but still these little glimpses of needy tenderness shook him.

He stroked his fingers along the vampire's spine, sweeping them out to fan across Spike's taut buttocks. He tightened his hold and pulled Spike's groin flush with his own. Their erections rubbed together, making them both moan. Xander felt the vampire's fingers slip down between their bodies. They encircled his hard flesh and began to slide up and down its length with unhurried, leisurely strokes.

Xander tore his lips from his lover's mouth and buried them against Spike's throat. Spike arched his neck a little, granting him better access.

"Yes," the vampire hissed, rubbing his skin against Xander's lips.

Xander closed his eyes and sank his teeth deep into Spike's cold flesh; the hot spurt of blood spattered the back of his throat making him choke. Desperate not to loose a single drop he gulped hungrily, drinking down the viscous fluid as it slid across his tongue.

He whimpered when, after what felt like the most fleeting of moments, Spike pushed him away. The vampire cleaned the blood away from his lips and teeth with deliberate thoroughness. Then he nudged at Xander's jaw, trying to tip his head back. Xander felt a frisson steal through him - part fear, part excitement. He arched his head back, exposing the column of his throat.

His fingers wound tight around the sheets as Spike's lips touched his skin, a cold tongue traced the path of his jugular and then moved away. Spike lip's nuzzled lower to the nape of neck and shoulder. Xander felt the first sharp prick of fangs and he held his breath. This was different; this wasn't like the bites they had exchanged in the midst of frenzied passion. There was a deliberate quality to Spike's actions that made him tremble with anticipation.

Spike's right hand still stroked his straining erection; the vampire's other hand slid under his back raising him up. Xander had never felt so fragile in his lover's embrace; Spike supported him effortlessly. The vampire's fangs still rested against his flesh. Then slowly - so slowly Xander thought he might faint from it - they sank into his skin, tearing through the layers to reach the thick hot blood beneath. He felt it rushing up into the tiny wounds - like a serpent responding to a charmer's flute.

A wave of dizziness washed through him. Distantly, as though from a long way off, he heard the soft suckling sounds as Spike drank. It seemed to be going on and on... .and he never wanted it to end. The feeling was like nothing he'd experienced before. It was like walking on the knife edge of release, and then holding on to it; the pulses of orgasm rippling through him in slow motion.

Spike drew back, and Xander sobbed in wordless protest. Golden eyes paused inches from his own. Then Spike was kissing him again and his mouth was filled with blood - his blood. The fingers around his erection speeded up. The kiss grew more frenzied. Xander felt his lover's fangs slice into his lips. When he came the cry was torn from his body and he bucked helplessly into Spike's hand. Black spots shimmered around the edges of his vision, and he passed out.

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

Xander was having a very strange dream. A large white wolf was sitting on his chest, licking his face. No matter how hard he tried to push him away the wolf wouldn't go, so eventually he just laid back and let it do as it wished. Gradually, Xander became aware that he was no longer dreaming and that something was pressing down on his chest and licking his face.

It was Spike.

"Umpgh," said Xander, as a cold tongue flicked across his lips. "What-what are you doing?" he asked, as the vampire drew back slightly.

"Just cleanin' you up, pet. You were kind of a mess." Spike grinned wickedly and wriggled down so that he could lick along Xander's chest.

"Wha-oh..oh.." said Xander intelligently as a cold tongue swirled around his navel.

Spike came back up the bed and laid down next to him.

"You didn't have a wash cloth?" Xander asked a touch breathlessly.

Spike shot him a disgusted look. "Where's the fun in that." He grinned again. "Waste not want not."

Xander swallowed hard as the vampire touched his softening erection, collecting a small pearl of semen. He watched transfixed as Spike sucked the digit into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it with obvious pleasure.

" 'Sides," said Spike when he'd done. "You taste delicious."

"Oh," was about all Xander could respond with. His mind felt numb. Unlike his body which tingled all over. "I feel so...funky," he said.

Spike chuckled softly. "Good was it?"

"Er, well, yeah," said Xander. He fixed the vampire with a slightly unfocused gaze. "Can we do it again?" he asked hopefully.

Spike just smiled at him. "Later, pet. Get your strength back. Too much of that and you'll never be able to get out of bed."

Xander's expression clearly said - 'and this would be a bad thing because?'

Spike's smile grew sly. "Course, if you're feeling a little bit energetic you could do something for me?"

Xander said, "Anything" without even thinking. Spike took his hand and placed it between his own legs. Xander immediately felt the hardness of the vampire's erection. Dismayed he looked at his lover. "I'm sor-"

Spike's glare silenced him. "Don't ever say that to me," the vampire hissed angrily. "You have nothing to be sorry for. You passed out, no shame in that." Spike's gaze softened, he looked vaguely smug. "In fact I'm flattered. Now if you feel up to it you can do something, if not go back to sleep. I can wait."

Xander took a firmer hold of the silken length beneath his fingers. He brought his face close up to the vampire's. "I want to watch you come," he whispered huskily.

Spike trembled against him and then stretched back, legs open, arms above his head - a casual, wanton sprawl. The breath caught in the back of Xander's throat. "Come for me," he whispered again. "Let me see you."

Spike began to thrust up into his hand and Xander closed his fingers forming a tight channel for the vampire to push into. Heavy lidded, Spike watched him. Transfixed, Xander stared back.

Blue veins bloomed beneath the pale skin, violet threads weaving across the vampire's chest. His lips parted and he began to pant. Xander began to stroke faster. He slipped his other hand beneath the stiff member to cup the velvet sac, and gently rubbed the twin globes. Spike had been close to the edge for too long to hold back. With a howl he came, his icy seed spilling over Xander fingers.

Xander continued to milk his lover until Spike pushed his hand away. With a deliberate teasing action, Xander placed his cum-coated fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean.

Spike moved with vampiric speed, pushing Xander back against the bed. "Mine," he growled.

"Yours," Xander agreed. His eyes reflected his contentment. They kissed and then curled up amongst the tangled blankets.

Part Twenty-Three

Doyle clutched his 'gift' and glanced nervously at the sealed door. "You know. I really think it'd be better if you went in alone. I mean I'm not supposed to-"

Angel pulled him over to the stone basin. "This concerns us both. We both go. If they have a problem, I'll deal with it."

Doyle reluctantly pulled out a handful of something and shook his head warily. "You don't want to be upsetting them. They get mad, you start losing body parts." He shuddered.

Angel just looked at him. "I don't plan on upsetting them. I'm going with my instincts here, and they say we should face them together."

Doyle gave the vampire a small nod of acceptance. "Fair enough. I trust your instincts." He chanted and threw in the dust; flames flew up and the door opened. "I just hope they're right," he muttered, following the vampire through the shimmering doorway. He emerged on the other side feeling slightly disorientated. The air was cool against his face, but fusty smelling, like wet newspapers. He was getting his bearings when an imperious voice rang out.

"What have you brought us?"

Angel held out his gift. It flew from his hand, into the hand of the Oracle's female aspect. She examined it very carefully.

"Pretty." She sounded approving.

"It's-" Angel began.

"-Jade," she finished, smiling at him, "and old."

"It belonged to an Empress," Angel supplied.

"It pleases me."

Doyle let out a breath he hadn't been aware he'd been holding. Then he remembered that he was holding something else. "Oh, right, yeah. Er.. this is for you." He addressed the bored looking male without making eye contact. That cold, sneering expression gave him the creeps. The tiny statuette was tugged from his fingers.

The female went over to study it with her companion. "A dragon," she said. Her voice held the pleased tone of a child.

"Yeah, an' it's Jade as well," said Doyle. "I don't know who it belonged to though."

"We are pleased," she announced.

Doyle offered her a weak smile and then took note of her companion's icy stare, <Well, I'll take your word for it> he thought glumly.

"Where are you here?" the male demanded. "You cannot buy our favours-"

"-and we have no wish to," said Angel quickly. "They're simply gifts, nothing more. We don't seek any kind of favour."

"Then what do you seek?" the female asked, tilting her head slightly.

Angel swallowed hard. "Advice," he said softly.

"You seek guidance," she clarified.

"Yes," he answered. "I....I.."

"You are in love," she said.

Angel's eyes widened. "Y-yes."

She nodded. "It is clear to us." She looked at Doyle - who took an involuntary step back. "You love this one, the feeling is reciprocated."

Doyle straightened and made himself meet her inhuman gaze. "Yeah, it 'tis."

"What concern is this of ours," said the Oracle's male aspect baldly.

"My curse," said Angel. "If I-"

"If you love him, you will lose your soul." The male looked at them both disdainfully. "This does not interest us. Now leave." He turned away. His companion made to follow.

"Wait!" Angel lowered his voice, "Please," he begged.

She stopped and turned back.

"I...I know how to change my curse," Angel admitted. "I just want to know if this is wrong."

"Wrong?" She took a few steps toward him. "You are asking if you deserve this as a reward?"

"No," said Angel hastily. "That's not it. I..." he glanced across at the half-demon, his eyes bright with pain and unshed tears. "I just need to know if it's wrong for me to do this. Should I even be thinking it..." His voice cracked and Doyle was beside him, glancing fearfully at the Oracle.

"He wants to know if the Powers will even let him try," said Doyle, his voice held a faint tremor. "Is he allowed to do this, or will they damn him for it?" The Oracles exchanged a look - one that neither vampire or half-demon could read - then the male continued forward.

The female stayed.

Angel raised his eyes to hers. "Is this wrong?" he asked brokenly.

Her expression was almost kind. "Who is to say what is right and what is wrong."

Doyle couldn't help himself. "Well we were kinda hoping you would," he mumbled under his breath. Angel pulled on his arm sharply and the younger man shut up.

"You must choose your own path," she continued. "We cannot guide you."

Visibly distraught, Angel's gaze dropped away and Doyle felt a glimmer of anger toward the Oracle. He quelled it quickly - he still had some hopes of getting out of here alive. However, she turned to him as if she'd heard his unspoken thoughts. When she leaned toward him he closed his eyes in panic.

"You know the way, Seer," she whispered, her voice was like the touch of the wind, caressing his cheek. "Remember, if you cannot have what you want, sometimes you must use what you have." With this cryptic utterance she drew back. Long, elegant fingers lifted Angel's head up until she could meet his eyes. She smiled and gave the tiniest of nods.

Then she rejoined her companion, who stood waiting with a bored expression on his boyish face.

Doyle didn't waste a moment, as the Oracles moved away as one, he walked Angel back toward the exit and plunged them both through it. They landed in an untidy heap at the other side.

Angel blinked, and looked at him dazedly. "She-"

"-I think she just gave us her blessing," said Doyle incredulously.

"What did she say to you?" Angel asked, getting to his feet. He gave Doyle a hand up.

Doyle was still staring at the now sealed doorway. He shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. "I'm not sure. She said I knew and that we have to use what we have, or something like that."

"Tell me exactly," said Angel.

Doyle repeated, word-for-word, what the Oracle had told him. "Don't ask me what it means," he added, "Cos I'm flying blind here."

"They didn't say no," said Angel slowly.

Doyle looked at him urgently. "More than that, Angel man. They said yes. They said *yes*. Not in so many words maybe but-" He was silenced when Angel grabbed him and pulled him close. Doyle buried his face against the vampire's leather coat and let the tension of the past few hours drain out of him.

They still had a lot to accomplish, but now it had the taint of possibility, and he was savouring the moment - as well as the feel of Angel's powerful body pressed tightly against his own.

All too soon it ended, as the vampire reluctantly broke the embrace and stepped back. "We should go home," he said quietly.

Doyle just nodded, not trusting himself to speak.

Part Twenty-Four

Xander prodded the twin puncture marks on his neck and wondered if a plaster would be more or less obvious. They didn't hurt, but they did look kind of icky - purplish and puffy. A pair of strong arms encircled his waist and cold lips brushed his shoulder. Xander stared into the large oval mirror (presumably a recent purchase by Angel) and shivered lightly. It was just so....weird. He could feel Spike touching and nuzzling him, but his reflection was trying to tell him he was alone.

He felt the vampire's head pause to rest upon his shoulder. He let his gaze slip sideways, and realised Spike was also staring into the mirror. "Does it ever bother you?" he asked.

Spike stood back and looked at him. "What?"

"That you can't-" Xander indicated the mirror with a slight shrug.

Blue eyes glinted with amusement. "Only when I'm doing my hair, luv."

Xander poked the vampire in the ribs. "Seriously," he asked.

Spike looked past him, back toward the mirror. He slowly raised his hand and brushed his fingers across the smooth, flat surface. "Sometimes," he began softly, "sometimes I forget."

"What you look like?" Xander guessed.

Spike pulled his hand back sharply. He schooled his features into an indifferent expression. "Well, I know I'm a handsome devil, but yeah, bits and pieces, I forget them."

Xander wasn't fooled. He took hold of Spike's fingers and held them as he lifted his other hand up to the vampire's face. Spike flinched and then permitted the caress. Xander stroked his fingers down one sharp cheekbone. "You are handsome," he admitted quietly. "You're all angles and pointy bits-" Spike grinned and bared his teeth - now normal looking.

Xander shook his head. "I don't mean those." He traced the cheekbone's path down to Spike's jaw. "Your face is sort of hard and-" he searched for the word, "-angular," he said finally. "Your eyes are blue and cold, but sometimes they have these neat little gold flashes, and they get kind of glowy." He touched Spike's lips and smiled. "These are thin, but extremely kissable."

He moved his fingers up to a finely arched eyebrow. "You still have your scar; it's sort of jagged." Xander's smile turned teasing. "It works with that whole 'bad boy' thing you've got going though." His expression turned serious as he ran his fingers through the soft blond strands above. "I like your hair. It's soft." He didn't get the chance to elucidate any further. Spike kissed him fiercely. Xander murmured into the kiss and then surrendered to it.

After a moment Spike gentled the kiss and moved his lips away to rest against Xander's cheek. "I love you," the vampire whispered - words so soft Xander had to strain to hear them. Xander felt a surge of happiness. "I love you too," he whispered back, and felt Spike's arms tighten around him.

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

When they eventually emerged from the shower, Spike raided Angel's wardrobe and found them both something to wear. Xander inhaled the comforting scent from the jumper Spike had given him. It was warm, soft, and - surprisingly - a pale shade of cream. Unlike the pants, which were a much more typical black.

Spike had grumbled about his Sire's lack of 'decent clobber', i.e. jeans, and finally settled on a pair of dark pants and a grey shirt. He buttoned it hurriedly and joined Xander on the couch. "Hungry, pet?"

Xander thought about it and was surprised to realise that he was, despite the knot that seemed to have taken up permanent residency in his stomach. "I could eat."

Spike jumped up and went through to the kitchen. He reappeared a moment later. "It'll have to be take-out, pet. Peaches doesn't exactly keep a well stocked fridge." Blue eyes gleamed and the vampire held up a wad of notes. "But he does still hide his spare cash in the milk jug."

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

A short while later they were stretched out on the couch, head to toe; Xander devouring his chicken chow mein, while Spike sucked noisily on a portion of spare ribs. When they'd finished they licked and kissed each other clean; this time Xander also insisted on the inclusion of a wash cloth.

All that was left to do was wait. Xander massaged his lover's bare foot and glanced nervously toward the staircase. "They've been gone a long time."

"Hmm?" Spike had his head back and his eyes closed.

"Angel and Doyle, they've been gone a long time." Xander listened carefully. "It's very quiet up there. I can't hear Cordy anymore. Do you think she's gone home?"

"Seen as how it's gone six, I would imagine so, pet," said Spike.

"Well, where are they?" Xander failed to keep the worry out of his voice.

Spike opened his eyes and sat up. "Demon-boy probably had a vision. They'll be out rescuing some screamin' bint."

"Now?"

"Yeah, well, he takes his 'job' seriously." Spike practically spat the word. He noticed Xander's sudden shift in expression. "What?"

"Nothing."

Spike prodded Xander sharply with his foot. "Don't give me that. What's up?"

Xander sighed. "I guess I was just wondering what I'm gonna do." He shrugged slightly. "You know, when this is all over."

Blue eyes widened in alarm. "Over?"

Xander shook his head impatiently. "Not *us* idiot. *This* - Angel, Doyle, the curse." He tugged a cushion in front of him and wrapped his arms around it. "I mean, we don't even have anywhere to live. Where are we going to go?"

Spike looked relieved. "That's all that's botherin' you?"

Xander's mouth tightened. "Hey, it may not be a big deal to you 'Mr - I don't mind living in a crypt' but some of us have needs."

Spike drew himself up and crawled along Xander's body, laying on top of him. "You don't think I'll satisfy your 'needs'?" he asked smirking.

Xander tried to look annoyed but failed, his expression softened. "Not just *those* needs. I mean food and clothes, and stuff. I need to get a job." The corners of his mouth turned down. "Of course, my track record in that department isn't exactly great."

Spike used his fingers to gently poke the down turned lips, trying tilt them back into a smile. He succeeded when Xander giggled at his efforts. "Much better," he said approvingly. "Look. I don't know about all the stuff you've tried before, but this is a big city. If you really want a job, we'll find you something." His gaze turned inward. "Course, it'll have to be part time. I'm not sitting around on my arse every day waiting for you to come home."

Xander had a bizarre mental image of Spike lazing around in a flowery house coat, waiting for him to get home. "It's a deal," he agreed. He really didn't want to be separated from the vampire for any length of time either. Maybe he could find another bar job? Though his fake I.D would probably need some more work. No, bar work was no good - too many nights. What else was he qualified for? He sighed. Not much, unless you counted 'assistant demon-slayer' as an occupation.

"Gettin' gloomy again, luv," Spike chided him. "Now what's rattling round that head of yours?"

"Demon slaying," said Xander. "You think maybe Angel needs another sidekick," he joked flatly.

Spike looked thoughtful. "Don't know about that, pet, but he might be open to negotiations."

"What?"

"How's about a partnership?" Spike suggested, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

"P-Partnership?" Xander stared confounded at his lover. Then he caught on. "You mean like 'Spike and Angel enterprises'?" He grinned.

Spike grinned back. "Well, you have to admit, it has a certain ring to it. Of course, I'd be needing an assistant."

"Some one with experience in the demon-bashing business?" Xander asked with mock innocence.

"That's the idea, pet," said Spike, kissing him gently. "But nothing-"

"-with horns or tentacles," said Xander smiling. "I remember." His expression turned serious. "Do you really think Angel would consider it?"

Spike shrugged. "Don't see why he wouldn't. He gets a kick out of playing the big bad boss. This way he has more people to order about."

"And of course you'd obey his every word," said Xander. Knowing full well *that* would never happen.

Spike grinned wolfishly. " Course I would. Very obedient I am; always cum when I'm told."

Xander groaned at the bad pun and hit Spike with the cushion. Spike responded by tickling him until they both rolled off the couch onto the floor. A brief tussle followed; it ended when they heard the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs.

Part Twenty-Five

A pair of rather beaten leather shoes stopped beside Xander; he turned his head, looking up.

"No offence, bud, but you look like shit," said Doyle, helping him to his feet.

Angel didn't say anything; he tilted Xander's chin back and drew the jumper aside to look at the bite mark scarring his neck.

Spike slapped the older vampire's hand away. "I only took a little, not that's any of your business," he muttered.

"You fed off'er him?" Doyle asked in disbelief.

Spike growled.

Angel interceded quickly. "Not fed, it's ... er...thing...we...sometimes do.. when we..." his voice trailed off.

"I've heard stories," said Doyle. He looked flustered. "I mean, well, you do, you know. But Jeez."

"Does it bother you?" Angel asked. His voice was neutral but his eyes were anxious.

Doyle seemed to consider the question carefully. "No," he said slowly. "No it doesn't." He stared hard at Spike. "This doesn't mean it's open season on my neck, mind you."

"Wouldn't touch you with a stick, mate," said Spike, dropping heavily onto the couch. He reached for his boots and began putting them on. "So, where've you been?"

"We had to see someone," said Angel.

Spike glanced up at him. The look on his Sire's face told him he wasn't going to get any more than that. "Right. You sorted then?"

Angel sighed and sat down on the chair opposite. "We've been give some....advice," he explained.

"Which we don't know how to take," added Doyle.

Spike's expression said '*so*, tell me'. Angel did - word for word - without revealing the source. Spike finished lacing his boots and sat back, looking thoughtful. "Use what you have," he repeated. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Angel shot him an exasperated look. "That's what we're trying to figure out."

Spike's stare could have cut diamonds. "Well, besides a naff taste in clothes and nancy hair. You don't have much," he snapped back.

Angel didn't feel up to sparring with his Childe, responding with a simple, "I know." His quiet acquiescence subdued the younger vampire, who slouched back against the couch. The four of them sat in silence. After a few minutes Spike got up and wandered through into the kitchen.

He reappeared a short while later and stood leaning against the wall, sipping a cup of blood. "There's one thing you do have," he said. Three pairs of eyes turned to him expectantly. He shrugged. "I was just thinking of your curse."

Angel's eyes narrowed. "Meaning?"

Spike strolled back into the room and sat down beside his lover. "Meaning, maybe you should use that." He was met with baffled looks and he shook his head in annoyance. "You're trying to break this curse right, knacker part of it?"

Angel nodded.

"So don't," said Spike. "Use it. Make it stronger. Use the curse to wrap your soul so bloody tight nothing will ever prise the soddin' thing free."

There was a pause, as each of them thought this through.

Xander was the first to accept that Spike might actually have hit upon the answer. He was impressed. "The man with the plan," he said, nudging his lover; Spike acknowledged the praise with a slight smile and a mocking tilt of his head.

Clasping his hands in front of him, Doyle leaned closer to Angel. "It hurts to say it, but Blondie might just have something. We tighten the loopholes in this thing and your soul should stay home for good."

"Use what we have," Angel murmured. He looked up to find the three waiting on him expectantly. "It could work," he agreed cautiously. "I'll have to do some checking." He stood up and looked down at his Childe. "I've only worked with the idea of weakening my curse. I should have thought-"

"-didn't though, did you," Spike cut in boastfully. It wasn't often he out manoeuvred his Sire in the mojo-stakes.

Angel allowed Spike his moment. "No, I didn't," he admitted. "Thank you, Will."

Spike seemed discomforted by the simple gratitude. He mumbled something unintelligible and buried his nose back in his mug.

Angel went over to the bookshelf and began browsing through its ancient, tattered texts. After a few minutes he called out, his attention still fixed upon the book in his hands. "Spike, come here, I need you to take a look at this."

"Ask demon-boy, Latin's not my thing," said Spike, draining the last of the blood from his mug.

"It's not Latin it's Phendoriyan, now get yourself over here," said Angel. Muttering and grumbling the younger vampire wandered across to join him.

Xander turned to Doyle. "Phen what?" he asked.

"Phendoriyan," said Doyle. "It's a very early demonic language. It predates any human writing."

"Sounds kinda Gilesey," Xander mused. At Doyle's puzzled look he explained, "He's a friend back in Sunnydale - he suffers from a sort of book fetish."

Doyle smiled. "Yeah, Angel seems to have a bit of a that going on."

"Books are good," said Xander. "We research. Giles instructs, Buffy slays. It's a team event." He saddened. "At least it was before...." His voice trailed off.

Doyle regarded him sympathetically. "I'm guessing none of them know you've got something going with Spike?"

Xander shook his head. "I couldn't work out how to tell them. I-" he hesitated "-I was a bit of a jerk when Buffy was dating this guy once. Plus there's the whole *Spike* thing."

"The 'guy' Buffy was dating, you mean Angel?"

Xander was surprised. "You know?"

"We've talked," said Doyle.

Xander sighed. "I really used to lay into her, ragging on and on about him being a vampire and stuff. How we couldn't trust him." Xander's face tightened as he looked toward Angel. "I was wrong," he said softly.

"You cared about her," said Doyle. "You were just looking out for her. Nothing wrong in that."

Xander snorted. "I was jealous," he corrected. "I had a major crush on her and all she saw was him. I acted out of spite."

"Don't be so hard on yourself. We all do stuff we're not proud of," said Doyle gently. "The main thing is you've made amends. You and Angel are fri-friends," he stumbled slightly over the word, remembering that Angel had been much more than friendly with this boy. He hurried past it. "Perhaps you should give Buffy the same chance. She might surprise you."

Xander laughed a touch bitterly. "I'll be surprised if she doesn't try to dust Spike on sight."

"Is that likely?" Doyle asked.

"She's a Slayer, he's a vampire, and then there's that little thing about them hating each other's guts. I'd say it's pretty much a given," said Xander.

"Even if she knows you love him?"

Xander tried to explain. "Don't get me wrong. Buffy's a really good friend. I'd trust her with my life - I *have* trusted her with my life. It's just she's got this whole 'I know best' attitude going on supernaturally."

Doyle looked alarmed. "Maybe it's best she doesn't find out then."

Xander nodded. "I want to let them know I'm okay though. I thought I'd write to Willow. We've been close since we were little kids. I owe it to her to let her know everything's good, but I'm not coming back."

"Never? What about your folks?"

Xander grimaced. "We're not exactly close. They won't miss me."

Doyle didn't push. He recognised the look in Xander's eyes. For all his youthful years, this kid had suffered some tough breaks. "So you'll stay in L.A?"

"Probably." Xander shrugged. "I guess I'll go where ever Spike goes."

"It must be love," Doyle teased gently.

"Yeah," said Xander smiling as he looked across at his lover. "It is."

"It says *three* times you wanker." Spike's voice rose in annoyance. "*That* is a three."

"I thought that mark meant it was a five?"

Spike stabbed the book with his finger. "That's not part of the text. It's not ink. Bloody scribe probably spilt his tea on it."

Angel looked uncertain. "I don't know-"

"Fine," Spike snapped. "Don't listen. Just don't come moanin' to me when your parts turn purple and drop off."

Angel held the book out to him. "Okay, we'll go with your translation."

Spike took it, vaguely mollified. "We'll need some stuff. There's some pretty fancy ingredients to this."

Doyle stood up. "Write a list. I'll get what yer need."

For once Spike didn't bait him, simply nodding and setting the book aside while he looked around for something to make notes with. Angel found him a pen and a pad. Spike sat and began scribbling down what he needed, pausing now and then to check the translation.

Doyle peered over his shoulder. "Zusst bile?" He pulled a face. "I hate that stuff, it eats through every'ting it touches."

"Except green marble," said Spike testily. "Which is why I've written - 'green marble pestle and mortar' at the top of the list."

"Oh, *that's* what that says," said Doyle.

Spike growled. Angel waved him back his to writing. Glowering the younger vampire obeyed. Xander silently thought that Doyle had a point, Spike's writing was barely legible. He'd seen little kids who made their letters better. Of course, the only time Spike had probably ever been in school was when he'd gate crashed Sunnydale High's teacher-parent evening, with a mind to dining out.

Spike finished his list and tore off the sheet. "Here." He handed it to Doyle with a warning. "You're gonna need pure Burrel blood, the good stuff. None of that diluted crap."

"Got it," said Doyle. He scanned down the list. "How many mice d'yer need?"

"A round dozen should do it," said Spike.

Xander looked back and forth between the two. "*Mice?*"

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