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Xanpet
AUTHOR’S NOTE: At this point in time, series 6/3 is about to start in the UK. Therefore, this series is about to become very AU. It is set after series 5/2, Buffy will stay dead, Anya is also dead and Spike’s past is as told in VO I. Lindsey is still working for Wolfram and Hart. Why? I don’t know, ask him!
Angel knew it was still day out. He could feel the drag of the sun, even though he couldn’t see it. He was also dimly aware of something else. Something calling to his demon, something cool and Spike shaped in the bed with him. The blood of his ‘foster’ Childe was playing tricks on his senses. The others had always lived there, in the shadowy corners of his dreams, calling to him to come home. It was how Wolfram and Hart had pulled that stunt with Darla so easily. She had already been there, in his greatest dreams and his worst nightmares, her and Penn, and Drucilla, and Spike.
Spike! This wasn’t a dream. He was here, here in this bed. Angel was instantly awake. He was uncomfortable with this and he knew he shouldn’t be, but he was. He shifted in the bed, trying to move away from the almost foetal form. “How long has Spike been here anyway?” He wondered.
“Spike, what are you doing?”
“Sleeping!”
“Why here?”
“I’m cold and lonely. Any objections, Mate?”
A million and one objections flooded through Angel’s mind, not least of which was his growing erection, an autonomic response to the close proximity of his Childe, especially after this morning’s ritual. It should have been sealed with a sexual act but neither vampire had seemed in the mood. This was probably as close as Spike was ever going to get to it as well. And now Angel felt cold and lonely.
For their entire ‘lone hunter’ style image, vampires were gregarious by nature. They nested for God’s sake. A creature, so vulnerable during the day, needed others around him for safety while he slept, and family blood ties took on a whole new meaning, when blood was your only connection. Not that there weren’t tensions within the group. And those tensions often erupted into violent displays, as the nest hierarchy was established, but it had to be said that, as a demonic species, they didn’t do well alone.
Angel tentatively laid an arm over the waist of the other. The touch wasn’t rejected, so he grew bolder, drawing Spike in towards him until they were spooned in the centre of the bed. If he could only find out what was distressing William so much, then maybe he could help and maybe Spike would stay. He wanted him to stay. He wanted the Slayer of Slayers. Spike was ruthless, cunning and evil. Definitely, evil but the call of family blood was relentless. Angel made a silent promise, he had failed Penn and Drucilla, he would not fail William.
Spike was soon sound asleep again and Angel comfortably drifting when a sudden intrusion took him by surprise. The door was thrown open and Wesley stood in the doorway. Before he could say anything, Angel motioned him to be quiet and carefully got out of the bed. Wesley averted his eyes at the sight of the naked and aroused vampire. Angel put on a robe and came to the door.
“Don’t you knock in England? I thought manners were a national pastime.”
“Cordelia came to me today and gave me some disturbing news and now I find that, not only is what she said true, but frankly even more disturbing.”
“Outside.” Angel commanded, but Wesley continued,
“It seems, to both Cordelia and myself, that whenever a member of your extended vampiric family is in the vicinity, you lose a certain modicum of perspective. Cordelia is scared, Angel. She says that a vampire called Spike is here and from her description, it sounds to me like William the Bloody. Please tell me that isn’t him in your bed.”
“One, it’s none of your business, two, don’t call Spike, William the Bloody to his face, it isn’t a complement and three, well for three read one.”
“I think, considering the past, it is very much our business. Are we in danger here?”
“Only if you carry on yammering while some of us are trying to FUCKING kip, Mate.” Roared those oh so London tones from deep inside the room. Angel ushered Wesley quickly out of the door.
By about seven, Hal finished up in the kitchen of her small apartment and called Lindsey in to dinner. She loved to cook. It wasn’t dissimilar from genetics. She dimmed the lights and lit the candles. He held her chair before sitting down himself. Dinner had been his idea.
“So what’s the occasion?” She asked.
“Do I need an occasion other than I love you and there’s an ‘r’ in the month?”
“She smiled, “It’s August.”
“Okay, an ‘a’ then.” But he did have a reason. He was increasingly nervous about her work or, more specifically, how Wolfram and Hart were using it.
He knew that, when she had started, it was with a dream of helping demons. She had once found a wounded demon in her back yard, as a child. It had obviously been in a fight with something, and had begged the young Hal Dillinger for help. She had hidden it in her tree house, but day-by-day, the monster had got weaker. Whatever it ate, it wasn’t potato chips and finally it had died. Ever since, she had wanted to be a demon doctor.
But it wasn’t possible just to go the University of California, and ask for a research grant into something, that was still mythology to the world at large. So, she started to ingratiate herself into demonology society, and it hadn’t been long before she’d been introduced to Wolfram and Hart and met Lindsey. He loved her; he didn’t want to see her hurt and the Firm wanted your very soul. It was necessary for him to work with them, he was in too deep and they already had his soul, but she didn’t have to.
“Hal, have you ever thought about moving on?”
She put down her wine glass and folded her arms. “Even if there was a ring in the glass, I wouldn’t leave my job, Lindsey. It’s too important right now.”
“I’m not asking you to give up work altogether, but you must have built up one hell of a resume by now. I’m stuck but…well - I just feel that Nathan Reed owns both our souls right now.”
“You are getting too involved in my work. How can someone own your soul?”
He was about to answer when the beep on the sofa went off. “It’s Reed,” she said frowning at the display. “I’ve got to go.” She put on her coat and headed for the door.
“That’s how.” He said to the empty apartment.
Spike lay in bed, even though the sun had set an hour ago. He would have been happy never to get up again. It made little difference that he had done the leaving for the first time in his existence, he still felt abandoned and cold. It made a great deal of difference that he did not have the moral high ground on this one. He had lied to Xander, done a deal with the mob, behind his back and nearly got them all killed. Whatever his motives he was not in the right.
Then Angel was yelling and pulling off the bedclothes. “If you’re going to be here, you’re damn well going to earn your corn. Get up, get dressed and get downstairs now.”
“’Cos?”
“’Cos, I’ve just spoken with Giles. I don’t like being hoodwinked, Spike. I thought you were genuinely in trouble. I’ve told him you’re under my protection or he’d be here with the stake right now. I can’t work and watch you at the same time, you’re just going to have to be part of the team.”
“Fu….”
“No. Not a word and especially that one.” Angel began tossing items of clothing at Spike. Both boots managed to hit him, even though he ducked. Angel then snarled and swept out of the room, “You have three minutes.”
“Fucking, cock-sucking, wanker.” Muttered Spike, but he obeyed.
In the hotel foyer, Angel Investigations was beginning its early evening briefing. Cordelia opened the post. Wesley was putting the final additions to a number of reports. Spike could see his presence wasn’t welcome. He stood in the shadows and watched. Out of the blue, Cordelia started to moan and dropped the letter opener. She clutched her head and tried to speak through the pain, but the agony was overwhelming and she felt herself falling and then being caught.
“Whoa, steady there Princess. Well, what you standing there for, like the great poof what you are? Get the lady a stiff one and I don’t mean cock. You okay, Sweet Pea?”
Ignoring Spike, Angel asked. “What did you see?” .
“Fucking dozy question, the floor.” Spike put Cordelia down gently and went to the bar himself. When he came back, they were all standing around Cordelia as she related the vision. Wesley took notes and Angel gently prodded with questions. “Wow, the cheerleader is a seer! Well fuck me sideways ‘til Christmas!!” He thought. He handed Cordelia the drink.
“Any luck?” Angel was addressing Fred.
“No, Gunn’s not there either.”
“We’ll go without him. Damn! I wish he wouldn’t do this!”
“In his defence, he does have other responsibilities.” Said Wesley.
“We’ll bring Spike.” Angel said as he began to collect weapons.
Cordelia was furious, her friend had been treated like dirt but the Blond bomb-shell got a party invite, “Hypocrite much!” She snapped. “You were all so like ‘she’s going to betray you, Cordelia, she’s of the bad Cordelia’ and just because I saw him in the vision…I sort of iceberged my argument there didn’t I?”
Angel smiled, nodded and ushered them all to the car. All except Fred, who stayed in case Gunn showed up.
Spike sat next to Angel and said nothing. Wesley and Cordelia hadn’t wanted him. What was new? No one wanted him. He didn’t care. What he did care about was that the neighbourhood was getting progressively rougher. The street sign said Avalon but somehow this didn’t strike him as Arthur’s paradise. This was hell. The grey apartment blocks rose like stone giants from granite coloured pavements. Not a tree, not a bird, only stray dogs and disowned cars. The place stunk of a city in decay. Spike knew that smell. It was what he had died to escape from. The people here were soulless, disaffected, shut down and dangerous. He didn’t want to be attacked by some street gang out for kicks. He’d had quite enough humiliation that way thank-you.
“This ain’t the sorta place you’d want to be caught in after dark, so what the fuck are we doing here after dark?” Spike asked belligerently.
“You want to come out in the day? Cos it could be so arranged Blondie.” Cordelia snapped back.
“Shh!” Angel whispered, “Is this it ‘Delia?”
“Ah huh, I think so.” Angel slowed the car so that she could get her bearings, mapping the vision’s image onto the reality. When she was sure, he stopped and they all got out of the car.
“By the playground there. There’s some trash cans, so you’d think these people would use them, but no, they leave it around, encouraging demons, demons like - that one.” She pointed and it looked up from the garbage and started towards them.
The thing reeked just like the streets around. It looked rotten almost putrid and made both Wesley and Cordelia gag. Flesh hung from it in great flapping chunks, and it’s shuffling gait told of a twisted skeletal frame. The whole thing was sick and warped. But from the misshapen skull peered the most sorrowful eyes.
It lurched towards Angel and he took a huge swing at it with his battle-axe. The creature was quicker than it appeared and easily sidestepped the incoming blow. Wesley also swung at it with the short sword he was carrying. The creature snarled at him, only to screech as a crossbow bolt hit it in the side.
It spun towards Cordelia snarling, venomous liquid oozing from its lips.
“Well done, Princess. Piss it off why don’tcha? Fucking ‘ell!!” The thing lumbered towards the blond vampire. He had no weapons other than his fists so he hit it, hard.
Spike clutched his head and screamed. The pain was excruciating. He reeled, unable to stand, as the pulses of agony continued to echo around his cranium and then he vomited.
“Hey! Watch the shoes!” Cordelia yelled.
“BACK! BACK!” Angel hollered but Spike was doubled over and continued to heave. Angel scooped him up over his broad shoulder and they all fled back to the car.
“What the hell just happened there?” Angel barked at Spike.
“Don’t ‘ave a fucking go at me, Mate. I didn’t bleeding do nuffink.”
“Maybe it’s a puke demon.” Cordelia offered.
“Its an escaped demon!” Angel was livid. “That’s two for two. Why do things like this always happen when you’re around Spike?”
“How the bloody fuck can this be my fault?!! I’m the one who managed the Technicolor yawn!”
“But why, William?” Wesley asked, “Did you feel something when you touched the demon? You seemed in pain.”
“Oi, Upper Class Twit of the Year, I never said you could call me William!”