Coming Of Age

By Medea

Chapter Seven

2025: Five Years Later

Angel and Gunn trudged through the Hyperion's lobby, hefting massive axes and rolling stiff, sore shoulders. Another night of fighting demons; another triumph for the forces of good; another batch of aching muscles.

Stiff, sore backs and arms were a minor distraction for Angel, though. He was silent and edgy, forcing himself to ignore the tympani of Gunn's heartbeat and the hypnotic thrum of the blood pulsing through his veins.

There was always a measure of discomfort for Angel, as a vampire, working in close proximity to humans; but over the decades, he'd noticed that the assault of humanity on his acute senses fluctuated in intensity. He had cultivated such self-discipline that most of the time, it was easy to ignore. But for the past few years, resisting the lure of the blood had required greater concentration. It was wearing on his nerves.

As they descended to the basement where the weapons cabinet was, Gunn attempted to draw the dark vampire out of his shell.

"That was some nice work back there, man."

Angel blinked wearily and remarked, "After awhile, taking out a half dozen demons gets to be routine."

"You got that right, but I wasn't talking about the demons."

"What else was there?" Angel asked, wondering if he'd missed something. It was possible -- his nights on the street had blurred into one, long, lonely night of battling monster after monster.

"I meant what you did for that kid. Any fool could see he'd never had anyone talk to him the way you did. You made him feel good about himself, man. The boy needed it. That was a righteous thing you did."

"I just...wanted to help..." Angel mumbled awkwardly. Why was Gunn making a big deal out of this?

And...did he have to stand so close? His blood was still heated and thrumming from the fight...

"You cared. And that's something he ain't ever gonna forget."

Angel said nothing as he unlocked the weapons cabinet, hung his axe back in place and then did the same with Gunn's. His comrade-in-arms stared at him in disbelief.

"Yo, Angel, what's your problem?"

"I don't know, Gunn. Why don't you tell me?" Angel snapped, too tired and irritable to guess where Gunn was headed.

"Damn right I'll tell you," Gunn retorted sternly. "Maybe it'll pull your head outta your damn broodin' ass. Half the time you walk around like you don't give a shit any more."

"I get the job done."

Gunn ignored him. "Then you come out with something *real*, like what you did for that kid tonight. That wasn't just doing a job, that was *real* -- you cared. So why the hell do you walk around the rest of the time acting like you don't?"

"Gunn, what the hell does that matter? Have I let any of you down, lately?"

Angel was in no mood to get into this with his friend. He did his best to be a team player, having learned a painful lesson years ago when he'd attempted to cut his crew loose and take on Darla single-handedly. But there were some things he just couldn't talk about with them.

"Not lately, but there's no tellin' where you're headed. You think you can keep pullin' this caring-one-minute-walkin'-around-like-a-zombie-the-next routine without tearin' yourself in half? Quit pullin' that bullshit, because who do you think will be stuck cleanin' up the mess when you *do* crack? I've seen you do your Mr. Hyde, and once was enough. Yank your tragic-hero head outta your ass before you forget you got a soul; if that happens again, I swear I will stake your ass myself."

Clamping down on the urge to lash out at Gunn for making accusations that were both frighteningly close to the mark and painfully naïve, Angel stalked away from him. Stopping several feet away with his back to his co-worker, the dark vampire growled, "I told Cordy once that I wouldn't go down that road again. I won't endanger all of you like that. But there are some things you can't understand."

"Try me," Gunn challenged. He'd never had any patience for Angel's bottled-up angst. "When a man needs to get something off his chest, he oughta get it off his chest."

Angel spun around and glared at him coldly. "Don't you see? That's just the problem -- I'm not a man. The kinds of things I need to get off my chest would have you, Wesley and Cordy reaching for the stakes and holy water. Not because you're in any danger -- you just might think you were, because you can't understand."

"Understand what?" Gunn snapped. "Like, what -- you got an itch to kill somebody?"

"Yeah, actually, that's part of it," Angel snapped back.

Gunn stared at him warily. Neither one of them said anything for a few moments. As Gunn silently calculated how quickly he could reach the weapons cabinet, he prompted, "But you mean kill a demon or vamp or somethin', right?"

Angel closed his eyes and lowered his head, fatigued. The look of fear and mistrust in Gunn's eyes was exactly why Angel never bothered to explain his inner struggles to his co-workers. They had lived and worked alongside a vampire for close to twenty years now, yet they remained blissfully ignorant of so many of the realities of vampire existence.

"No, Gunn -- I mean kill a person, a living human being," Angel stated bluntly. He raised his head and looked at Gunn, deadly serious. "The bloodlust is *always* there, did you think it wasn't? Just because I have a soul doesn't mean the cravings go away. I *won't* kill anyone. I've been controlling my urges for over a century now. But the call of the blood has just been stronger, harder to ignore since Spike moved in with Megan."

"Spike? What the hell does he have to do with it?"

Angel laughed and shook his head. "Everything. Gunn, in the time we've known each other, you've become one of the best vampire hunters I've seen. How much do you really want to learn about us?"

Gunn's eyes narrowed defensively at the question, which sounded suspiciously like an accusation of bigotry from his vampire colleague. "Why don't we find out? Go ahead, I'm all ears."

<No you're not...you're blood. Can't you feel it?> Angel thought darkly.

Angel motioned for Gunn to follow him and said, "If we're going to do this, I'll need a drink." At Gunn's alarmed grimace, Angel reassured him, "Strictly Red Cross, Gunn. I'm not eyeing your veins."

<Well...okay, maybe I am...>

They made their way to Angel's suite, where he pulled a beer out of the refrigerator and offered it to Gunn. Still radiating tension, the young man accepted it, twisted off the cap and took a swallow. Meanwhile, Angel emptied two pouches of blood into an oversized coffee mug, then popped it in the microwave according to his established ritual. Forty-five seconds on Medium High.

On second thought, make that fifty seconds...tonight, he needed it just a little warmer than usual.

Gunn straddled a barstool near the kitchen and sat down. Angel paced restlessly, sipped the blood, and searched for a way to explain...hell, he wasn't sure what he was trying to explain.

Blood?

Kinship?

Exile?

<Might as well start with blood...it's easiest...>

"Gunn, blood means more to vampires than food. It's the reason a sire can distinguish between his own childe and any other vampire -- for some, even across distances as great as one or two hundred miles. It's how we sense who's stronger and weaker, and sort out a hierarchy. It's part of a matrix that connects us, especially family."

"Sure, I understand. Blood's thicker than water; your family comes first," Gunn interjected easily.

Angel shook his head impatiently. "No, you don't. There are positives, like the close sense of connection between sire and childe, or between mates. But there are negatives, too. Big ones. When a vampire is cut off from its kin, one of its main channels for satisfying the call of the blood is gone."

"So...what you're sayin' is that Spike bein' gone has made it harder for you to deal with your cravings," Gunn concluded, watching Angel pace and drink with the raw tension of a caged tiger.

"It's like removing a dampener," Angel explained, absently licking a drop of blood from his lips. "Without the presence of my kin, or any others of my own kind, it's harder not to notice all the other sources of blood around me...all of it in living, human bodies."

"Hold on, though. You said you spent almost a hundred years alone, hiding from other vampires. Are you sayin'...the entire time, you were that--?"

"--miserable," Angel finished for him with a nod of the head. "You know some of it. I've told you how far I'd sunk when Whistler found me. But there's no way you can know what it's like to drink rat's blood, when everywhere around you all you can hear, smell and *feel* is the human blood you really want."

"Okay, Angel? You're really creepin' me out here," Gunn edged back slightly on his barstool.

The dark vampire offered a sheepish half-smile. "Sorry...It wasn't just being surrounded by humans but not being willing to kill that hurt, though. It was being cut off from my family -- from all vampires. Part of what drove me back to Darla so soon after I was cursed was the need to feel the blood bond. Even as I was repulsed by the viciousness of my own kind."

"I still don't buy it," Gunn insisted. "Don't get me wrong, I understand it's hard for you. I'll give you that. But Spike showed up and kicked you around a bunch of times before you settled down here. You tellin' me that each time he came back and then left, you went through this...withdrawal, or whatever you wanna call it?"

"No," Angel stopped pacing and sat down on the edge of his coffee table. He thought back to the reason he had had to purchase this replacement for his first coffee table, and smiled slightly. What a turning point that had been. "No, what makes this time different is Willow."

"Willow? But you two don't even have that blood tie thing goin' on," Gunn observed bluntly.

"Willow gave me the chance to be part of a family again. I hadn't had a family since 1898."

Angel fixed Gunn with a steady gaze, saying nothing more than that because, to him, it explained everything.

Everything he cared to explain, that is. It would be getting too personal to say that if it weren't for his fear of losing the soul, Willow would be his mate.

"Things were finally comin' together for you, huh?" Gunn finally commented after a few moments' silence. Angel saw him sitting there on the stool, holding the bottle of beer he'd barely touched during the lengthy confession, and wondered briefly if the man would bolt.

"Yeah," Angel acknowledged wearily. "It took me a century to pull myself together after losing my family -- and then only with Whistler's help. It was something I thought I'd never really have again."

"But Spike's still around. Shoot, man, the 'dale ain't that far away."

"I know. But he's taken a--" Angel caught himself just as he was about to say 'mate', and said instead, "--fancy to Megan; his interests are elsewhere for now."

Gunn shook his head, frowned, and took a hearty swig of beer. After he'd swallowed, he muttered, "Man, I don't believe I'm about to say this. But why don't you ask the Q-Tip to come back for a visit once in awhile? I mean, I get caught up in the whole killin' demons and savin' the world groove, but I still keep in touch with my mama."

<Oh boy...I'm not explaining this one...>

Respecting Megan's privacy, Angel avoided mentioning her sensitivity to the complex, multiple layers of vampire sexuality. Instead, he managed a weak grin and countered, "Spike visits; it's just been awhile. And visits aren't a substitute for a lair."

Building on what he perceived as Angel's improved humor, Gunn laughed and said, "Yeah, I got you. Whatever you do, don't go givin' my mama any ideas. My girlfriend would kill me if I moved back home."

Angel's grin broadened slightly, but he said nothing. Gunn's expression mellowed to sympathetic concern, and he asked, "You gonna be all right?"

"Yeah. I'll...what was it you said? I'll pull my tragic-hero head out of my ass. Tell Wesley and Cordy that I won't give any of you reason to worry."

Gunn's face lit up with an amused grin; he stood, walked over to Angel, and clapped Angel's hand to his in a firm handshake. "Word up. Listen, I gotta go. But just remember what you kept saying after that epiphany of yours. What we do matters. I know it's hard for you right now. But you're doin' good things. That oughta count for somethin'."

Angel's eyes focused, really *focused*, on Gunn for a moment as he absorbed the man's words. He was right. It was difficult, going back to living in isolation after those wonderful years with Willow and Spike, but what he was doing was valuable in itself. The work *was* more than just a way to numb the pain.

"Thanks, Gunn. I needed that."

"No problem. Later," Gunn said with a wave as he headed out.

*****

Spike dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it with his boot before opening the door to the apartment.

Meg didn't let him smoke in their place.

He grinned. Their place.

After Megan's freshman year, and a rather stormy beginning to their relationship, it had become clear that they needed more privacy than the dorms offered. Some of their first lovers' spats had become legendary on campus.

The Poof had been bloody pissed at having to pay for the damage Spike had done to the lounge on Meg's floor...

But the fights and the doubts and the guilt Megan felt about Willow had all been part of their volatile courtship. Spike felt the blood rush to his groin as he thought of the night Meg had finally let go of the guilt and given herself over to him completely.

The unbearable sweetness of hearing her say that she wanted him however she could have him, no matter how things worked out in the end... He didn't let her out of bed for a full forty-eight hours after that.

Of course, Jackie hadn't taken too kindly to being barred from the dorm room for two days straight. Spike smirked as he remembered the royal tongue-lashing he and Meg had gotten for that.

So Megan had done a little apartment hunting at the end of Spring semester, and found a one-bedroom place in a small, Spanish-colonial complex not too far from campus.

Spike stepped inside and glanced around the space he'd shared with Megan ever since she'd signed the lease five years ago. No sign of her in the living room.

With a smirk, Spike noted how few signs there were of vampire residence. It would take an astute observer to discern the significance of the heavy drapes over the windows, or the fact that among the photographs that decorated the shelves and walls, there were none of Megan and him. The only picture of the two lovers together was the framed sketch done by Angel as a housewarming gift.

He heard the shower running, arched an eyebrow slyly and started back to their bedroom. But just as he was warming up to the idea of joining her, the water shut off. Damn, she'd finished too soon.

When he pushed open the door to their bedroom, she had already dried off and wrapped a towel around herself.

Easy on, easy off...

"Hey Spike, how was Willie's?" Megan began as she stepped up to give him a quick kiss.

Spike, however, had other ideas. A sharp tug on her bath towel sent it sliding to the floor. Megan squealed, half in protest, half in delight, as Spike wrapped his arms around her and sent them both tumbling onto their bed.

"Spike, stop! It's already after 10:00; I have to patrol."

"Why go out? You've got a big, bad vampire right here to wrestle with. C'mon, Slayer, I'm a killer -- you'd better vanquish me to keep the world safe from all the evil I might do."

With light flicks of his tongue, the blond vampire teased his way down her neck, along the sharply-defined crest of her collarbone, and finally closed his mouth over a taut, pink nipple. Megan moaned softly, but continued her efforts at protesting.

"That must be nine-hundred and ninety times you've used that ploy to keep me in bed."

"And that's nine-hundred and ninety times it's worked, luv," Spike murmured seductively against her breast.

Megan sighed and reluctantly pushed his head away. "Do you really want another argument with Cecil?

Spike rolled away from her and grimaced in disgust. "What a way to ruin the moment, luv."

He closed his eyes and flashed to an image of his first confrontation with the Megan's easily-flustered Watcher after the man had learned about the two of them.

It had been all Spike could do to keep himself from drooling as the veins throbbed in Smythe's neck during his tirade. Or, at least, what passed for a tirade from the scandalized, normally mild-mannered Watcher.

Eventually, with Giles's assistance, Smythe managed to tolerate his Slayer's romantic involvement with Spike -- knowing full well what had happened when the Council had tried to come between the previous Slayer and her vampire allies. Following the example Willow had set during her friendship with Buffy, Spike refrained from killing in Sunnydale. Although it was a constant source of tension, Megan refrained from pressing him about his out-of-town feeding binges. But when Megan's sex life interfered with her slaying duties, Smythe drew the line.

"I'm sorry." Megan ruffled his hair affectionately, before climbing out of bed and heading to her dresser for some underwear. "I'll make it up to you when I get back. Oh, by the way -- Gunn called about an hour ago."

Spike's eyebrows arched high. "Gunn? As in demon-killing bloke who works with the Poof -- that Gunn?"

Megan nodded and wrinkled her brow slightly. "Yeah, it was kinda weird."

"I'll say," Spike snorted, surprised that any of Angel's human co-workers would be calling him. Usually, if they needed help, they relayed messages through Giles.

"He sounded a little worried. He said he had a talk with Angel last night, and thinks you should give your sire a call. And that was the weird thing -- I don't think I've ever heard Gunn call Angel your sire. He just calls him Angel."

Spike sat up slowly, his eyes distant as his thoughts turned inward. That must have been some talk last night, if Gunn was alluding to the sire-childe relationship.

Megan, clad only in underwear and a navy blue tee shirt, stopped dressing and sat down beside him. "What's wrong?"

Spike shrugged and pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Not quite sure. But I think I should make a trip to L.A."

He felt Megan tense slightly, and knew that she was experiencing a small twinge of discomfort at the reminder of his intimate connection to Angel. She did her best to stifle her reactions, since there was little point in being jealous of something that Spike couldn't change. But Spike knew she felt awkward. Try as she might, she could never rid herself of her human notions of love. Nor did he want her to. That innocent, childlike faith in the purity of love was one of the traits he cherished most about her.

She mustered a sympathetic smile. "He needs you."

"You'll be all right 'til I get back?" Spike asked, stroking her cheek tenderly.

"Are you kidding? Life's going to be a breeze without you causing trouble all the time. This'll be like a vacation. Maybe I'll even re-decorate the apartment. You know, paint the bathroom pink or something," Megan teased him reassuringly.

For a brief moment, Spike played along and narrowed his eyes indignantly at her insolence. "You paint it pink and I'll bring back a bucket of goat's blood and splatter it all over the walls."

However, he knew she was muffling her own feelings in an effort to be supportive, and the gesture moved him. Cupping her cheek in his palm and leaning his forehead against hers, he murmured, "I'll miss you."

Megan smiled softly and brought her lips to his in a gentle, lingering kiss. When she pulled back, her eyes held a profound tenderness...but only for a moment. Her eyes twinkling with devilish merriment, Megan taunted, "You're not goin' soft on me, are you, old man?"

"Soft?!" Spike growled playfully. "Baby, I'm the *hardest* there is. Maybe you need a little reminder before I go..."

He tackled her with a roar.

*****

Angel paused in the middle of the alley and glanced over his shoulder.

His childe was stalking him.

The dark vampire had felt his boy's presence for the past half hour. It had been a slow night; Cordelia hadn't had any visions. Angel had ventured out to the anonymous L.A. streets, avoiding the more-heavily peopled areas and sticking to secluded alleys like the one in which he now stood, wondering if Spike would show himself any time soon.

The answer hit Angel abruptly, as Spike dropped from a fire escape overhead and sent them both crashing to the ground.

"Spike," Angel winced slightly as he stood up, nursing a scraped jaw. "Why didn't you tell me you were planning on dropping in?"

"What, and lose the element of surprise?" Spike feigned shock.

"Believe me, Spike -- coming from you, a full-body slam into the pavement is never a surprise," Angel observed dryly. However, his mask of bemused detachment didn't reach his eyes, which glowed warmly at the sight of his cocky childe. "So, here for the weekend?"

Tilting his head to the side as if considering his options, Spike replied, "Might stay a bit longer this time, Peaches."

To Angel's surprise, Spike dropped his human mask, lacerated his palm with his fangs, then flicked his wrist, sending droplets of blood splattering lightly against Angel's face. Slowly, the dark vampire wiped his cheek with a single fingertip, and sucked the digit into his mouth. Angel closed his eyes and steadied himself against the rich, heady taste of his childe's blood.

So good.

"All you had to do was ask, y'wanker," the blonde vampire teased in a low, seductive voice.

Angel reached for his childe, but Spike took a step back, his eyes fixed intently on Angel's. "Not gonna come that easy, mate. Somebody's been a bad boy...mopin' in the dark instead of just takin' what 'e needs. All you had to do was call, and I would've come. Now you're gonna have to work for it."

Suddenly, Spike sprinted at the brick wall, pushed off against it with one foot and sprang back up to the fire escape twenty feet above. He leered down at Angel with fiery yellow eyes.

"C'mon Sire...feel it...feel it rise in your veins."

Spike's seductive words lured Angel's demon to the surface, and with a pleased growl the dark vampire morphed to his true face. His childe's actions -- the taunts, the blood, the acrobatic display -- were unmistakable.

It was an invitation to the hunt.

Blood-sport between sire and childe.

Angel willingly picked up the gauntlet and leaped up to the fire escape. His childe had already raced up to the roof. Angel followed close behind, tracking Spike through their bond. It was exhilarating.

He heard Spike's laughter ahead, and a few moments later the thud and scuffle as Spike leaped and landed on the roof of the adjacent building. Angel grinned; they had the whole city at their feet. He only hoped that Spike would head toward the warehouse district. Angel didn't think L.A.'s human residents needed to be treated to a show by two vampires in heat.

As Spike's path took them not toward empty warehouses, but one of the city's bright spots for nightlife, Angel chuckled to himself.

Never let it be said that Spike could keep a low profile.

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