Blurring the Edges

By Fyre


TITLE: Blurring the Edges.
AUTHOR: Fyre
SPOILERS: The future! BWAH-HA-HA-HA! But seriouesly - for once - nothing I can think of but the Shashu comments in S1 of Angel.
SUMMARY: Angel has Shanshu'd, the Scoobs are all kick-ed-of-the- bucket, Spike's ill like Dru was in S2 and there's a bitch queen offering to save the little Bri-vamps life in exchange for one thing...
RATING: R (I think)
PAIRING: Angel/Spike (Sire/childe thang), Angel/other
DISTRIBUTION: You want, take, but lemme know!
FEEDBACK: Pwetty please lemme know what y'all thinks!
DISCLAIMER: Not mine! Pah!
NOTES: Based on challenge 182 on YGTS? - I'm impressed. I almost made myself cry for the third time ever while writing a fic. And it always happens when I'm using the same characters. Vewwy odd!
DEDICATION: To RedFire for the challenge (loved it! I got to kill Buffy again! Yay!) - and to Collie for making me realise I'm an avid Angel-shanshu-then-kill-somehow-er!


Heels clacking loudly with every step, the Mistress of Los Angeles halted in the middle of the hallway, narrowed her eyes, focusing on an individual cowering in the shadows, a small sneer that contained just enough cruelty to terrify anyone arched her mouth upwards.

"Come here." She said, voice soft, dripping with threat.

The figure whimpered, stumbled forward a step. The lights from the high-gabled ceiling shone down on the creature, its body bloody and torn, its once-fine hair matted and filthy with a combination of dirt and blood.

The Mistress smiled, a chilling smile. "I said come here." She repeated, her ruby lips moist, tantalising, her dark eyes threatening and promising more than a million words ever could. She crooked a perfectly manicured finger, blood red nails gleaming.

Her choice victim staggered towards her, only stopped by the chain that was connected to its slender neck, wrists and ankles. Dropping feebly to its knees, the bound vampire whimpered, ducked its head.

"See." Cordelia bent, her skilled lips brushing over her latest contender's ear. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" The vampire shook its head, shrinking back as Cordelia cupped its chin. "Don't ever try and take over my pack again." She whispered, her face barely millimetres from her victim's her voice low, deadly. "Understood?"

Not that she was going to get the chance to try, but it was fun to make them whimper and cower for a little while.

The vampiress nodded, groaned in pain as Cordelia's lips harshly descended on her own torn, blistered ones. The scars from the Holy Water and crosses that the brunette had used earlier in the day burst open, chilly blood smearing over the Mistress' lips.

Dropping the pinioned vampiress, the Mistress straightened up, brushed her hair back from her face with a small smile, dabbing at the traces of blood on her lips with her fingertips. She always had such fun bringing arrogant vampires to their knees with her "But I'm just a fledgeling" act.

It still surprised her how gullible some of the Sunnydale vampires really were.

The one on its knees before her had seriously underestimated her, that was a clear fact. While the blonde vampiress was at least nine years her senior, she failed to realise that Cordelia had been Sired and Grandsired by two members of the Scourge of Europe, had been employed the feared Angelus, in her human days.

She had been taught her skills by two of the oldest surviving vampiresses in known vampire history, although some would argue about her Sire's three years of being dead and brief return to humanity detracted from her surmation.

Gazing contemptuously down at her pet, she ran her hand over the bowed blonde head, released a pensive sigh. It was times like these that she missed her Sire, missed being dominated and screwed into submission by the older vampiress. Darla had been an expert at her work.

She'd done the screwing far too much lately. No one had dominated her in almost two years and it was growing increasingly frustrating. To find an equal, someone on the same level as she was would really be an accomplishment.

Laying both hands on top of the kneeling vampiress' head, she drew the battered face against her bared belly, ran her fingers through knotted hair. "You know." She spoke softly. "You haven't changed a bit since High School, Harm. You're still a sheep, copying all the big bad vampires and trying to take over innocent little Cor's pack."

Harmony's unused breath escaped in a wheeze the instant after her neck was delicately snapped, her head lifted clean off her shoulders a moment later. Chains clanked to the ground, thumping in the dust.

Continuing on her way to her audience room, the dark-haired demon smiled, brushed her hands down her belt-like skirt. Not many vampires outside her inner circle knew that it was she who had control of much of the vampire community. Few knew that she dominated and controlled the elders of packs and they, in turn, controlled their own groups.

To most, she was a prize, a dark and exotic-looking vampiress. Many others had attempted to have her and they most often ended up as the unfortunate Harmony had, or beaten and humiliated until they were her willing slaves or otherwise.

She shoved the doors inward nonchalantly, noting gleefully that every vampire in the room immediately jumped to attention. Sauntering in, her body seemed to have been poured into the miniscule skirt and top she was wearing, her balance on her heels precarious yet perfect.

Her current favourite was kneeling by her throne, his head bowed, a wide, steel collar around his throat. "Hey sweetie." She casually brushed a hand over his head as she settled on her elaborate throne. "So, news?"

"Y-yes, Mistress." One of the few bespectacled vampires tottered forward, pushed from behind by another less-eager demon. "We've gotten word that Angelus just returned to Los Angeles, from Sunnydale."

Waving her hand in disgust, several of her guards grabbed the vampire, dragging her forward, before the Mistress. If there was one thing Cordelia insisted on, it was inequal opportunity, male vampires only used for one thing, then disgarded.

Stalking down from the throne, she bent to gaze at the unfortunate demon. "So, tell me." She murmured, drawing her razor-nailed hand down the ginger-haired vampiress' smooth, freckled cheek. "Why would I give a damn what Soulboy the WonderVamp is up to?"

"He...he..."

"Speak up, Ginger." Lifting the vampiress' chin with one neat nail, she arched her perfectly plucked brow. "Why would I care?"

"He's not a vampire anymore!" The young vampiress was one of Cordelia's own childer, weak and easily controlled, but a genius when it came to retrieving information for her Mistress. She had managed to dominate a few males though, which had suitably pleased her Sire.

The brunette vampiress took a step back, a small chuckle breaking from her lips. "So, dear Angelus is now a living breathing human being." She shook her head, swathes of silky hair falling over her face. Bending, she lightly kissed her daughter on the tip of the nose. "I'm hoping you can give me some more information about this?"

Nodding, she hastily fumbled in her pockets, pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to her Mistress. "He's staying there." She pointed to the address. "Rumours say that he has a vampire with him...a vampire with the sickness."

Cordelia glanced at her, surprise masked carefully. "A vampire? Anyone we know?"

"He's older than most." Another vampire stepped forward from the crowd, one of the few males present. Raoul had been Cordelia's first childe and was her most faithful, insanely loyal and unwilling to attempt a coup. Probably because he knew exactly what `mommy' was capable of. "I'd guess he's in his second century. He's a beauty, but he's got the sickness bad. It looks like he's in the sleeping stage."

News indeed.

"Could it be a certain William T. Bloody?" Cordelia suggested mildly, returning to her throne, one hand moving to her pet's head, stroking absently. Her eyes fixed on Raoul's face penetratingly, her usual deceptive smile in place.

He shrugged. "I guess it could be."

Her hand tugged carelessly. The vampire on his knees beside her disintegrated and she rubbed her fingers together to brush the dust off them. Seeming oblivious of the death of the young male, she crooked her brow that little higher. "You guess it could be?"

"I-I'll find out as soon as I can." Raoul blurted out, backing several steps away hastily. "He hasn't been seen around for the last two and a half years, not since the eldest Slayer's death. If he had the sickness, he should be dead by now."

Cordelia waved him away dismissively, leaned back in her seat and sighed. "What I really need," She spoke quietly, half to herself, half to the group. "Is Angelus. Someone who might have the balls to really give me a battle."

The silence deepened, nervous vampires exchanging glances. The brunette on the throne seemed oblivious, crossing her sleek legs and folding her hands in thought.

Finally, she got to her feet. "Bring me one of the toys." She ordered, unwrapping her favourite, blood-streaked whip from its positon around the arm of her throne. "I want something to play with before I eat."

In less than a minute, one of her small colection of toys was dragged into the room, his body naked and scarred, his arms pinioned at the elbows, his hair loose and long over his bruised face. She smiled slightly, took a step towards him.

"Good morning, Lindsey." She purred. Tilting his chin up with her boot, she smiled down at the older vampire. He had been one of Darla's treats, turned years before the first apocalypse of 2008, during which Cordelia had come to meet Darla's wicked fangs herself.

Nothing like an apocalypse to bring out the death in people.

But after Darla and Drusilla's untimely demise in the second apocalypse of 2010, big brother had tried for a coup of the pack that Cordelia had taken control of: The Amazons, as they had been named in recent years. Boy, had he tried.

And failed.

She had to give him credit for trying, though. And trying and trying, until she had given up and imprisoned him in a cage of crosses just to shut him up when she wasn't in the mood to fight or kick the undead shit out of him.

It wasn't that she had anything against handicapped vampires.

Vampires that had been lawyers, on the other hand *Haha, Cordy. Punning. Very amusing I don't think.*, could burn in hellfire for all eternity as far as she was concerned...or in her baths of Holy water, depending on the mood she was in. And most moods featured torture, violence, bloodshed and general stuff that made unlife fun.

Queen C, Mistress of the City of Angels didn't get to the top on looks and charm alone. The bitch factor was something she just couldn't go without.

But it lacked the impact a good bastard would give it. And she had a perfect bastard in mind for her inner and outer bitch ­ Angelus.

And if he didn't like it...well, she always had her ways to convince him.

***


Key gripped between his teeth, arms laden with all manner of brown paper bags, Angel grunted in indignation as the door handle ­ for the hundredth time ­ refused to budge.

Nudging the door with his hip, he rolled his eyes, squinting in the sun. Giving up, he lowered the bags to the ground, fiddled with the key, kicked the door several times and hurled a few curses at the panel of wood.

Strangely, it seemed to be the curses that worked.

Retrieving his shopping, he stumbled into the room, kicked the door shut behind him and deposited the bags on the table in the kitchen, raking through until he found the bag of what he was looking for.

Slam, bam, microwave, ma'am.

Carefully carrying the mug through to the darkened bedroom, he paused in the doorway, blinked back the tears that always rose at the sight before him.

"Hey, lazy." Striding into the room, flicking on the bedside lights, he sat down on the edge of the mattress and ran his fingers gently down Spike's familiar, motionless face, lingering on those cheekbones for a long moment then travelling to his lips. "I got you something to eat, but since you refuse to stop playing dead, I guess I'll have to do it the medical way."

He had been doing it 'the medical way' for weeks, probably months now, but it was the only way her could get any blood into his favoured childe's system. Chatting quietly to the only person he had left, the usual melancholy set in quickly.

Uncapping the needle that had been imbedded in the vampire's smooth stomach, he used a narrower needle and syringe to get some of the blood from the dish, carefully sliding it into the painful-looking device that was emerging Spike's flat belly and depressing the plunger.

It had been like this for going on three years.

When Buffy and the remainder of the Scoobies had been caught in the temporal flux that opened the Hellmouth for long enough to destroy half of Sunnydale with the worst earthquake in California history, Spike and Angel had both been badly hurt, Spike more so in his desperate attempts to reach the Slayer and her mates.

He had stayed conscious, but incredibley and terrifyingly weak, drifting in and out of reality for almost a year and a half before lapsing into a coma, or ­ as vampires called it ­ the sleeping stage of the sickness.

It was rare for a vampire to wake from the `sleep', let alone live.

Now, Angel ­ the human ­ took care of him entirely. In the year before the coma, he had learned more about his childe than he knew was possible. Most astonishingly, Spike had begged Angel to have him cursed with a soul.

His explanation was that he didn't want to go to 'the other place' alone. He wanted to stay with his Sire, with the friends he had eventually made in the Scoobies, with the people he had grown to care about so much.

After he had sunk ito the coma, Angel had fulfilled that request, ought out a gypsy and bought a curse from her. Luckily, he still had the majority of the Scoobies mass savings, given to him as the sole survivor, each naming the mysterious, dark, brooding human as their main choice if none of their family friends listed survived.

It had been hard to accept it, in reality. To accept the money of dead friends. Of a dead lover.

He had barely had time to think, though. Spike was getting sicker by the day, he didn't have a home or money of his own and it was the only way. So he'd accepted, accepted their last gifts to him, albeit reluctantly.

Finishing the painstakingly slow feeding of the comatose vampire, he carefully cleaned up the excess blood, leaned up to brush a tender kiss over his only surviving son's smooth forehead, brushing back straying curls of sandy hair. "Sleep well, my Will." He murmured, making his way to the kitchen, settling on a handful of chips and a can of cola for his own meal.

Standing at the window, sipping the sickeningly sweet liquid, he watched the sun going down, eyes misted with tears of reminiscence: of the days he had spent with Buffy as a human, of the days when Spike had been at full strength, of the days when he had a purpose.

None of them ever crossed lines, he noticed sadly.

Tidying his 'meal' up, he returned to the bedroom, stripped to his boxers and lay down alongside the silent vampire, as he did every night. Drawing the sheet over both of them, he wondered briefly if it wouldn't be more merciful to kill the vampire.

Then, he caught a glimpse of the younger man's profile, silhouetted by the light from the next room and smiled faintly.

That was the reason he couldn't.

Closing his eyes, he let sleep take him.

***


Knocking inobtrusively on the door of the Mistress' bed chamber, loud enough to be heard over the screams from within, Laney tucked loose tufts of ginger hair behind her ears, folding her trembling hands.

"What is it?" The door swung open, revealed Cordelia naked but for thigh-high patent boots with ominously long spiked heels, her long hair loose around her shoulders.

Ducking her head, Laney held out a sheet of paper. "More information about Angelus." She whispered nervously, ignoring the reek of human blood from within the room, ignoring the whimpers of pain.

Fishhooking her brow, one slim hand snatched the sheet, unfolded it briskly. Dark eyes skimmed over the words, her lips rising in a lop- sided smirk. "Well, well." Leaning forward, she wove her fingers through Laney's wavy hair, drawing the young vampiress towards her. "You did a very good job." She whispered huskily, her mouth sealing over the younger vampire's roughly. Stepping back, she smiled chillingly. "Very good indeed."

Laney ducked her head again, tried her best to cover her arousal. Not only was Cordelia her Sire, which explained part of the lust, but she was an exqusitely beautiful vampire both with and without the demon being visible and her sexual prowess was beyond compare.

The Mistress patted her condescendingly on the head, smiled. "I tell you what." She suggested, moistening her scarlet lips with a pink tongue. "After I've finished here, I'll come and show you how grateful I am."

Laney let herself be roughly kissed again, her body trembling. One hand snaked to her throat and she pulled aside her hair, tilting her head. She gasped as Cordelia's fangs sank into her throat with an easy familiarity.

"Good girl." She received another patronising pat on the head, then the door slammed in her face and the screams from the room intensified.

Stepping back, Laney hurried away down the hall.

***


As he stirred, Angel became gradually aware that he was no longer alone in the room with his childe. Even without vampirc senses, he could feel that someone was there, the feeling of being watched by an unseen presence unnerving.

Sitting up, the sheet slithered silently down his body, his weak, human eyes looking around the darkened room for whoever was there.

A low chuckle reached him, soft and feminine, but also inexplicably dangerous. "You two boys make such a pretty picture together." He stiffened. He knew that voice, knew it well. "Dark and light or silent and stupid. I can't decide which is more appropriate."

"Cordelia."

"Nice to see you remember little old me, Angelus." Her voice filtered from the opposite side of the room. "I suppose you're wondering just how I got in here, what with you being all souled and pulse-having."

The small lamp beside the bed was flicked swiftly on by her unseen hand, lighting up her demonic face barely inches from his, gold eyes glinting. He slammed back against the headboard, heart pounding against his sternum agonisingly.

"Alternately, you might be wodering why you aren't dead." She paused, cupped his chin in her hand and pressed a blood-red kiss to his lips, then significantly added. "Yet."

Gritting his teeth, he gazed impassively at her. "I might not give a damn." He said, voice as calm as he could make it.

"You might not," She shrugged, caught his wrist, twisting it until he dropped the crucifix he had slipped from beneath his pillow. "Or you might just give one damn too many." Abruptly, she had straddled the unconscious Spike's body, her hands running over his chest. "Nice to see you can still get a stiff sometimes."

"Leave him alone."

She sneered at him. "Oh, come on, Angelus. Don't tell me you've got softer in you old age? I can't hurt him by sitting on him. He's a comatose corpse for God's sake." She leaned forward, gripped the vampire's jaw in her hand, opening and shutting his mouth and feigning a terrible accent. "Yeah, mate. Let the lady shag my bloody bones." Her eyes found Angel's, amused.

His fist caught her across the jaw, but barely carrying enough impact to move her, let alone get her off the vampire.

Rubbing her jaw, she raised her eyes to him, smirked. "Nice to see you haven't lost your touch with the ladies, old man."

Rolling of Spike's body into Angel's lap, she rubbed her leather- clad breasts against his bare chest, her hands twisting into his hair. Smashing her mouth on his, she smirked, drawing on all her experience, leaving him panting for breath, his mouth ringed with his own blood.

"Now, we're going to talk nice or..." Her slim hand curled around his throat, pinning him against the headboard. "I'll get cranky." She drew her tongue slowly up his cheek chillingly. "And you wouldn't like me when I'm cranky."

"What do you want?" Trying to ignore the sensation of her half- dressed body grinding against his pelvis, concentrating on forcing air passed her suffocating hold, he glared at her, stone-faced.

She chuckled, hands resting on her thighs. "What do *I* want?" Two of her fingers walked up his chest, then raked back down, two lines of crimson blooming on his pectorals. "It always comes down to that when you're been sat on by a vampire who could kill you, doesn't it?" She tutted, slowly drawing her index finger in the line of blood and lifting it to her lips. "I think this case, you've got it wrong, dear boy. I want to know what *you* want."

His expression registered bewilderment, made her smirk all the more.

"Come on, Angelus." She inclined her head towards Spike. "Surely your brain hasn't rotted away inside this thick skull of yours. You have one survivor of your line who is dying and there's nothing you can do about it." Her shoulders rose in a sleek shrug. "I can."

"What do you mean?"

Leaning her head against his shoulder, she sighed. "I've been thinking about that, you know. Our family. Look at it this way ­ Your Sire sired me, right? So that makes you my big brother." Her nails traced circles on his skin. "But, your childe sired her, which makes you my great granddaddy, right? That makes my mom my great, great grandmom and my grandmom my niece or something."

His hands gripped her shoulder, pushing her back. "What did you come here for, Cordelia? I don't need a family history, so just tell me why you're here."

"Isn't it obvious?" He glared at her. "I can get you what you want. I have the means to save our favourite cockney's life." She cast a glance towards the sandy-haired vampire, smiled slightly. "But there is a small price to pay."

"What?" His voice a strangled whisper, he stared at her hopefully.

Her smile was ice cold. "Angelus."

"Huh?"

Tilting his chin with her fingernail, she sighed patiently. "What I want to save goldielocks is Angelus." She flicked her nail. Angel winced, a bead of blood forming under his chin. "Are you following my logic?"

"You want to turn me back."

Slapping both palms down on his chest, she grinned widely. "Well, how'd you like that! You got it in one guess!" She ran her fingers over the rosy handprints on his flesh, smiled. "We both know that I can't force you. You know all the tricks of stopping me turning you, all the little ways to keep from drinking up and coming to momma, so I leave it to you to decide."

"Why?"

One thing that had never changed about the vampiress since her turning was her attitude. "Pfft! You want to know why I want Angelus back? Hello? Biggest, baddest vampire like ever?" She threw her hands in the air dramatically. "Fine! I want Angelus back cos I want a fuck- bunny who actually has some chance of rivalling me in the pack, okay?"

Closing his eyes, Angel rested the back of his head against the wall, exhaled slowly.

"What's with the sighs?" He could hear the growing anger in her voice. Patience had never really been one of her virtues. "Look at you! You're pathetic! An ex-vampire all shanshu'd up with no where to go, babysitting a half-dead demon who can't even feed himself."

His eyes slowly opened. "I earned this." He stated quietly. "I spent years getting to this point and I don't want to give it up now."

"Give what up?" She gestured around the room with a derisive laugh. "What have you got worth staying human for? A hellhole of a hotel room that any old demon can walk into? A dying vampire with no chance left but that which I can give him?" She grasped his face between her hands, her face a mockery of sincerity. "I just want you to come back to the side you belong on. We'll save Spike and things'll be like they were meant to be."

"You know that you'll be begging before the day ends, if I say yes?"

She smirked. "I'm counting on it."

Pushing her aside, he rose to his feet, went to the window and drew back the curtains. The city was still shrouded in darkness, specks of light dotted as far as they eye could see. He heard her get to her feet, join him, one cool arm snaking around his waist.

"They're all so weak. So vulnerable." Her lips pressed against his shoulder, her voice low-pitched, husky. "I know you feel that way too. Once you've felt the power of the immortal demon, humanity makes you feel so fragile."

He glanced back at her. "How would you know, Cordy?"

Her hand slid up his chest to rest over his heart. "When you saw me," She murmured, rising on her toes to whisper in his ear. "I heard your heart race, saw the pain it caused you, all from a little scare. It wasn't a nice feeling was it?"

"It's part of being human." His voice was as soft as hers. Pulling the window up, he inhaled the scent of the night air, felt the strands of her hair ticklishly brushing against his bare back.

"But you hate it." It was almost as if she were reading his mind. "You hate the boom-boom-boom." Her fist beat against his chest lightly with each murmured `boom', her words whispering on his skin. "You hate it because you know that one day, it's going to stop forever and you can't do anything to prevent that."

She turned away from him, returned to the bed. He heard the sheets rustle as she lay down, her soft laughter reaching him.

Against his better judgement, he turned. The vampiress who bore the face of his friend smiled seductively up at him, her body draped around his former childe's, fingers tracing the unconscious vampire's still face.

"Imagine, dark Angel." She said, running a kiss over the older demon's lips. "Imagine your favourite boy back to full strength and health." She lifted one of the black-nailed hands, then dropped it on the mattress. "Do you want him to stay like this until he dies, Angelus? Do you want to force him to suffer until death?"

Lowering his eyes to the floor, he grit his teeth. Then he uttered the fateful word. "No."

She was on him in an instant, slamming him back against the glass. It splintered outward, his back sprayed with crystal slivers, but the pain was nothing compared to that of her fangs buried in his throat, draining the life from him.

***


Shakily lifting his head from the pillows, Angel pushed himself upright, the scent of a million memories assailing him as one, but one carried far above the scents of the others: the scent of the pain of a childe.

Uncaring of his nudity, he staggered to his feet, found the door carefully sealed and locked from the outside. No matter. He was Angelus, one of the infamous Scourge of Europe and sole survivor of several apocalypses. He could take care of a measly door.

Or not.

Sinking down against the massive door, his fists pounding on the panel of wood, he winced as the scent grew stronger and stronger.

Without warning, it swung open, revealing a small red-haired vampiress.

He barely heeded her, shaking on his feet as he stormed throug the lair, following the scent. The tiny demon chased him, trying to halt him, but only suceeded in repeatedly getting herself thrown aside by the older demon, albeit younger vampire.

Prowling into the throne room, the scent almost knocked him backwards, his heart swelling with grief at the scene that lay before him.

Spike, his childe, the sole-survivor of his own bloodline, his beloved son, lay sprawled on the floor, unheeded. On his side, one arm flung over his head, the other curled to his chest, his knees tucked up against his stomach, blood smeared his throat, leaking from the twin puncture marks.

All wise vampires in the room seemed to have taken a sudden liking to the walls, shrinking back as the dark vampire stalked towards the throne, his eyes glittering liquid rage. Cordelia ­ settled on her high throne ­ ignored him, licking traces of Spike's blood from her fingertips.

"What have you done?"

After a moment of examining her nails, she turned to him. "So you're up." The smile she flashed was as false as her promises had been.

"Tell me what you did, you bitch."

She shrugged. "No big." She explained. "I drained him completely." Angel stumbled back a pace, blanched as much as a vampire could. "No matter how much you feed him, he'll never get enough to actually regain consciousness or life."

In an instant, she had been thrown off the throne, the dark vampire raining furious blow down on her with fists and claws, her skin tearing, bursting and bleeding under his touch. "You bitch! You fuckin' twisted bitch!"

Her assembled pack exchanged glances, uncertain of what they should do with the childe who was currently beating the shit out of its Sire and their Mistress.

Until, she started to laugh, kicking the furious and despairing young vampire backwards viciously and getting to her feet, as if oblivious to half the skin missing from her face and shoulders. "What's the deal, Angelus?" She enquired, smoothing her clothing.

"You said he would live." Speaking through gritted teeth, he flicked his gaze towards his half-dead childe, eyes flaring gold. "You said if I came to you, he would live."

Wiping a smear of blood that was trickling down her chin, her slender shoulders rose in a sardonic shrug. "I lied."

Angel released a low snarl, threw aside several minions and gathered his fallen childe in a tender embrace, the sandy hair trailing loosely over his bare arms, the lean body limp, eyes closed as they always were now.

Raising his head, he shot a glare at his new Sire, then turned and returned the way he had come, the stunned silence in the throne room only broken when Cordelia had resumed her seat and smiled confidently.

"Now you see why I wanted him."

***


"It's almost dawn." Angel noted.

"Mmm-hmm." Lazing on her back, the mistress of Los Angeles yawned and flexed her body upwards. Her hair spilled around her, her body a myriad of bites and cuts from the night of domination Angel had given her.

He rose. "I'm going to watch it."

"What?"

Turning, he smiled at her sadly, that melancholy look in his eyes far too familiar for her liking. "I said I'm going to watch the sun rise." He repeated, his back to her. Heard her rise, stomp across the floor and grab his shoulder.

"Why the hell would you do a stupid thing like that?"

He shrugged noncommitally. "Anythings better than being your slave for eternity." He said quietly. "You killed the last of my line and I should see that he manages to reach them safely." A small smile crept onto his lips. "He always hated to be on his own."

"What are you talking about?"

The smile widened. "Spike has a soul." The reply was soft, but there none-the-less.

"And you're going to make sure he reaches who and where the hell and what the fuck are you talking about?"

"Somewhere that you'll never go." Cryptic, moping broodman should have alerted her before, but the instant he swung round and impaled her on the makeshift stake, she knew for certain what she had been puzzling about him for the last two days.

"Fucking soul." She blurted before crumbling to dust.

Angel nodded, dropped the stake and opened the door. His soul had been permanently bound to his body ever since he had been granted humanity, just in case. He sighed. The sweet scent of dawn was growing stronger. Sun rise would happen in less than five minutes, but that was plenty of time.

Making his way to his room, he tenderly scooped Spike up.

The younger vampire was bone thin, his skin translucent and pulled taut over his bones, lines of blue running vividly beneath the ivory shaded flesh. Light as a baby, he felt in Angel's arms, as they ascended the stairs, emerging on the flat roof.

"You know where we're going, Spike?" He whispered, tears brimming in his eyes. "We're going to see Buffy and Willow and Giles and all of the Scoobies." Sinking to his knees, his childe cradled to him, he stroked the motionless face. "They're waiting for us, Spike. Do you see them?"

He lifted his head, deeply inhaled the scent of the coming morning, his tears streaking his cheeks, pattering lightly onto the dying vampire's face below him.

"Maybe you can see them already, huh?" He brushed a kiss over the younger vampire's forehead, hugged him closer. "I bet they are really pissed about seeing you again. They thought you wanted to eat them all, you know…"

He paused, felt the breeze ripple around him.

"Give them a hug from me, if I don't get there, okay?" He blinked back tears, swallowed hard. "I know what I'm doing is the worst way to go. If I don't make it, I know you'll take care of them for me, won't you?"

His smile belied the tears, but the pain still lingered.

"I'm sorry I can't promise to be with you there, Will." That was his childe's name, his true name, the name of a son. "I love you and I love them all, but I can't make promises that I don't know I can keep. You understand, right?"

He glanced to the horizon, saw the first shimmers of gold and orange starting to blur the edges of the world as far as he could see. Raising the younger vampire to reast against his chest, he pointed towards the morning.

"Look, Will." He whispered against the tawny hair, tears burning faster and hotter down his pale cheeks. "Isn't is beautiful?"

And it truly was.


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