Part 2

*****
[Italics indicate daydreams] 
 

Cordy felt like mothering him. She wasn't sure if it was the human side or the demon side that wanted to wrap him in cotton and take care of him. Fred felt empathy. She was once in the same place that Spike's in now. Cut away from family, in a strange place with strange people. She wanted to help, but wasn't sure how. From the stories that he'd heard about Spike, Gunn had expected a swaggering, filthy mouthed vamp that he'd want to stake after the first minute of meeting him. Instead, he got a skinny, silent shadow. He felt pity for him. Wesley couldn't believe his eyes. He felt compassion for the wounded creature he'd met. He'd heard about William the Bloody, both at the Watcher's Council and from Angel. He kept waiting for him to go into game face and try to attack the other vampire. He knew about the chip, so he wasn't afraid for his fellow humans. Angel would be the one in the most danger. Even though Cordy was now part demon, no one with an smidgen of an I.Q. would dare go up against Queen C. The slender figure that went up the stairs couldn't crush a wet paper bag. The aura of a dangerous creature of the night was gone. Even he felt the sadness coming off of him in choking waves. It was like he was drowning in sorrow. He wondered how the next few months would play out. He wasn't naive. Everybody else expected a miracle cure. A few days and he'd be his old self again. A week at the most. He knew that a recovery from something like this would take months. Perhaps even years. He hoped that they were all up to the task ahead.

The group split up after that. Gunn, Wesley, and Cordy back to their respective homes, and Fred up to her own room. Angel went looking for Spike after he stored the extra blood that Buffy had given him in the kitchen fridge. He told himself that it was just to make sure that he hadn't taken off. He hoped that he had taken off. Leaving against orders would be exactly what that the old Spike would do. And for the first time in a long, long time, he missed the old Spike. Missed his unpredictability. His spontaneous nature. Darla once called him,'Anything For Attention William'. He hated to be ignored. Especially in the bedroom. He pushed those memories to the back of his mind. It wouldn't do to think about all the blood and sex they use to have. His Grand-Childe had energy to spare; often wearing him out and going to look for Dru for another round.

He finally found him by the following the wave of grief pouring down an empty hallway. The same wave that he'd felt at Buffy's house. He wasn't sure if it was luck or instinct that caused him to take this particular floor. After trying all of the doors, he finally found Spike in the last one. He had managed to find the one place that was as far away from Angel's room as possible and still be in the same hotel. Spike was in the same position that he had been in when he saw him at Buffy's. On his side, back to the door, hunched over. The only difference was the bed was half broken, the left side tilted, and the Hello Kitty pack and his shoes had been left in the middle of the floor. The bathroom light was on and the door was ajar, casting a half-light into the room. There were no bed covers.

Angel left and went to his room. Taking a thick comforter, a few spare pillows and the big medical kit, he made his way back to Spike's room. He might as well patch him up. Knowing Spike, he would milk that injury for all it's worth. He was still in the same position. He didn't even flinch when Angel took the bloodied hand and, after soaking a pad of gauze in rubbing alcohol, cleaned the blood off and surveyed the damage. The nails were torn down to the cuticles, but they'll grow back. Most of the skin was scraped off the pads of his fingers. He decided against the bandages. He'd heal soon enough, so covering the hand would be useless. He spread the comforter over him, securely tucking him in, and placed the pillows under his head. Angel firmly resisted the urge to smooth the curls. Glancing up, he spied the curtainless windows. This side of the hotel always got the most sun. Leaving again, he came back with some heavy curtains. It only took ten minutes to hang them up. Spike was here to heal, not burst into flames on his first morning. The feeling of misery hadn't abated one little bit. Wondering why he even bothered, he quickly left the room and went to bed, not looking forward to the coming days.

Spike curled up tighter. He wondered why the great poof bothered to cover him or the window up. Not to mention fixing his hand. He didn't want his charity or his pity. He didn't want anything from anyone. He'd just keep out of everybody's way. That wouldn't be too hard. If he stayed in his room, eventually they'd forget all about him. The way he wanted it to be. Then, he and Xander could be left in peace. Exhausted, he finally drifted off to an uneasy sleep, waiting for the nightmares to start; filled with falling beams, falling Buffy, and a faceless man ripping the Nibblet out of his very arms. 

He woke up to the smell of warm blood being waved under his nose. He'd finally got at least three hours of nightmareless sleep, and already, someone was disturbing him. He figured that it was one of Angel's humans, here to tell him more rules. Shit like 'don't touch my stuff' or 'don't steal the office supplies'. He wasn't interested in hearing any of it. The blood was probably a bribe, anyway. Follow the rules and get fed. He wasn't interested in any of it. He buried himself further under the comforter. He didn't want to see anyone and he wasn't hungry. All he had to do was ignore whoever it was and they'd go away. Just like before.

Cordelia watched the blond menace pull the cover over his head. She really hated to be ignored. Putting the cup on the bedside table, she used both hands and ripped the cover off him. A scowling vamp stared up at her. Well, well, he did have one other emotion in there after all. Better that he was pissed off than the way he was before.

"What do you want?" 

Oh, damn. Pissed Off just took a hike and he was back into Gloomy Gus mode. Cordy just pulled him into a sitting position; with all the weight that he'd lost it wasn't difficult, picked up the cup and held it out to him. He didn't reach for it, just sat there and stared at it.

"Don't want it. Go away." 

"Ohhh, no. Uh uh. I made Buffy a solemn vow that I would make you feed. So feed. You really don't want to see me pissed off, do you, Spike?"  

Spike couldn't believe the brass knackers on this girl. Didn't she know better then to taunt a vampire? He felt a brief flare of anger over her high-handedness well up before it was replaced with the usual heavy feeling of sadness. A memory came to him. His mouth twitched in a half smile. It seemed that Xander was right after all. He didn't know that he'd said that last thought out loud until Cordy intruded into his thoughts.

"Xander was right about me? What did he say? Come on, tell me now. I wanna know what he said about me. Was it good or bad? Come on, spill."

The half twitch was back. Looking up at the now half-demoness, he could smell the slight change in her. Her human scent was slightly off, and a new smell teased his senses. It didn't smell evil. It had a sort of calming scent. He wasn't sure what kind of demon had taken up residence with the former Prom Queen, but he instantly knew that it wasn't a bad one.

"Xan ... he said to never piss off Queen Cordelia when she's in a royal snit."

Cordy just grinned, pleased about that. None of the other birds he knew would have been flattered by that comment. The crazy bint just got a big kick out of it.

"That's right! I'm starting to get into a snit, so don't piss me off. Now, drink!"

Thrusting the cup back under his nose, she waited. Heaving a big sigh, he took the cup and did just like he did when Angel had threatened him. Swallowing it in one large gulp, he handed the cup back to her.

"Now will you leave me alone?"

"For now."

 And with that, she flounced out the door. He couldn't believe it. She flounced out! As if she hadn't been threatening the Big Bad and had just been insulted. He lay down again and pulled the blanket back over his head. He wondered about that 'For now.' He tried to drift off into a pleasant memory.

Cordy walked into the small kitchen and rinsed the cup. She'll give him just five hours before she'd pour another cup down him. Just long enough for him to mope a little bit longer. She really didn't need two broody vamps on her hands. Angel was enough. Speaking of Angel, what the hell was his problem? He acted like he didn't care about Spike. Like his feelings of pain and hurt was nothing to him. How could anybody look at Spike and not feel sympathy for him? He'd just lost Xander not too long ago, well, eight months was not a long time in vamp life, and Angel treated him like dirt. Even she had cried over Xander and they didn't have the best break-up in history. Actually, she'd been glad that Xander had dumped Anya, or vice versa, and those two had gotten hooked up. By what Dawn had told her, it was a real love affair. Something out of a storybook. She sighed deeply. Storybook romances were in short supply around here. 

She frowned at Angel when he came though the door. She let out a 'hummp', when she passed him. She had work to do. He just stared at her back as she passed out the door. What the hell was her problem? Heating up his own blood, he quickly drank it and went to his office. He had work to do, but his thoughts strayed to the grief stricken vampire upstairs.

*****

Three weeks had passed. Twenty-one days that had Angel climbing the walls. Every day he stopped by Spike's room. Every day the feelings coming off that floor just got more depressing; coiling around his senses, strangling him. He wondered how Spike stood it. Every day he checked on Spike. Spike was the same. Still silent. Still in the same small, miserable ball in the middle of the bed. The only difference was that he obviously showered and changed clothes. Well, changed from one Xander outfit to another. He did look like he was putting on some much-needed weight. Maybe he was sneaking down when he and Fred were sleeping and finally feeding. Well, however it happened, he was glad that he was filling out. Every day he asked the same question. 'You want to come downstairs?' Every day he got the same answer. Nothing. Nada. Zip. He didn't even rate a fucking head shake. Not one word did the blond vamp ever utter to him. He wouldn't even look at him. By now, even he was starting to feel depressed.

It was on day twenty-two that he found out how Spike was feeding. Everybody was out of the hotel except for him, Fred, and of course, Spike never left. He was in his office and just happened to look up when Fred shook her hands frantically when she happened to look at the clock. She left the front desk and ran to the kitchen. She returned ten minutes later, carefully holding a cup that was obviously full of something, and she headed upstairs in a hurry. He had a sneaking feeling that the cup didn't contain coffee.  

It wasn't hard to track Fred. She was concentrating so hard on not spilling the liquid that she didn't pay attention to anything else. Sure enough, she entered Spike's floor. So, that's how he was feeding. Angel became angry. Spike had Fred waiting on him hand and foot. He had it made here. Why get better when he had people hopping around catering to his every whim? This was going to stop. Now.

Moving with vampiric speed, he placed himself in front of Fred. She had been trying so hard not to spill one drop of blood that she had almost walked into a wall. No. Not a wall. Angel. She nervously looked up at him. Oh, shit. The fat was in the fire now. She gave him a timid smile, hoping to keep him off the scent, so to speak. 

Angel smiled down at her. It wasn't a particularly nice smile. Her smile slipped a little.

"What are you doing, Fred?"

His voice was soft, almost soothing. Fred wasn't fooled by that one little bit. It was the voice of a predator. A predator that was trying hard not to rip somebody's head off. She hoped that it wasn't her head if he did lose his control.

"Huuuuhhhh....." For once, babbling had left her.

"Where are you going?"

"Huuuhhhh...."

He looked at the cup in the now slightly trembling hands. It was full of warm blood. Plucking the cup from her suddenly nerveless fingers, he sniffed it. And looked at her.

"It's mine!" She suddenly blurted out. She winced at the look Angel shot her. 'Damn. I really put my foot in my mouth now.'

"So, it's yours? Develop a sudden taste for blood, humm, Winifred?"

Oh, double damn! Nothing good ever came out of someone using her full first name. At least he didn't know her middle name. Whenever her mother or father used her whole name; first, middle, and last, she knew that her butt was going to be a lot warmer then the rest of her. Knowing that there was no way out of this, she had to come clean.

"Well, you see, Cordelia started to feed him because she promised Buffy that she would and see one day she called from shopping and asked me to do it because she wouldn't be back in time she's been feeding him every five hours or so that's why he's starting to put on weight but he didn't want to eat when I brought it to him so I told him that Cordelia said so and so he started to drink it and pretty soon she got Charles and Wes to help us so that we wouldn't have to bother you and now he's feeding and answering us he's talking some but not much and Charles even fixed his bed so that it won't tilt and he told us that the only way to kill a Farwaniz demon was to pour salt water from the ocean on it but it had to be the water from the Dead Sea it won't work with any other kind and he even help Wes on some translations he knows a lot of demon languages and me and Cordy found some more bed clothes for the bed and made it up and he helped some but you never noticed the new sheets or blankets so we didn't say anything about that and Dawn calls every week to see how he's doing and we tell her that he's better and that you're treating him good but that's a lie but not really because you just don't notice anything and he doesn't want to talk on the phone right now but we all hope that he'll want to soon because Dawn wants to come see him but not until he's really better he's still having nightmares but he wakes up when we come feed him and now you know because I wasn't watching the clock and I'm late for my turn and he's probably having one right now and Cordy'll be upset and please don't get mad and turn evil and eat me!"

She finally paused for breath while Angel just stared at her and blinked. It took a few minutes for him to catch on to what Fred had said. His mind immediately latched onto one important fact. Spike had spoken. Except for asking where his room was, Angel hadn't heard another peep out of his Grand-Childe. Spike had talked to everybody but him. Somehow, that just pissed him off even more. What, he wasn't good enough to have a conversation with? Well, he'll just see about that.

Still holding onto the cup, he gently turned Fred around and pushed her in the direction of the stairs. 

"Go back and man the phone. I'll take him the blood."

"But ... but ..."

She gave him a nervous glance over her shoulder, teeth worrying her bottom lip.

"Don't worry about anything. Nobody's in trouble. Go on now. That phone won't answer on its own." 

She took a few more hesitant steps away before Angel called to her again. When she turned to look at him, he asked, "Oh, Fred? Get mad, turn evil and eat you?"

She blushed and ran the rest of the way downstairs. Angel just gave a small smile at her retreating back before the anger hit him again. He's going to get Spike to talk to him one way or the other. And no more of this 'meals in bed' shit either. He was going to come downstairs even if he had to come up here and drag him to the kitchen every day.

The dark feeling got worse the closer he came to Spike's door. Opening the door he'd been fully prepared to give Spike a piece of his mind when he spotted the figure on the bed. He stopped in shock.

Spike was in the middle of a nightmare. His whole body was shaking in fear, trembling with his sweat soaked hair frantically shaking 'no' on the mattress, the pillows and covers long ago flung on the floor, the bottom sheet half pulled off. His chest heaved in unnecessary breaths. Hands clinching and feet digging into the mattress, trying to get away from whatever demons were chasing him. The only sound in the room was harsh gasping and panting.

Angel was finally broken out of his paralysis by a mournful and heartbreaking wail.

"Nnnnnnooooooo!!!" 

He quickly set the cup on the bedside table and tried to still the suddenly jerking limbs. It was like electricity was coursing through the still slight body. He climbed onto the bed and gathered the twitching vampire in his arms and did the only thing he knew how to do for him. 

Trapping the flailing arms in one hand, he used his other to smooth the wet hair away from the tear soaked face. He pulled Spike onto his lap and began to rock, a rumbling purr coming from his chest. He'd done this before. When gentle William was newly turned and didn't understand the violence that he'd felt. Oh, he still maimed and killed. He reveled in it. But, while sleeping, his subconscious turned on him. His phantom soul striking out at him, demanding to know why? Why the killing? Why the blood? He hadn't learned to repress the feelings at first. Suffering from one nightmare after another. The only thing that seemed to work was to hold the fledgling; rocking and purring. At least, until he learned to suppress the feelings. Learned to be as tough and as bloodthirsty as Angelus. After that, he had no need for comfort. And Angel missed that.

So, here he was. Rocking and comforting him again. Angel felt the old loving feelings come back and didn't bother to push them away. His boy needed him, so here he was.
 

Strapped down. Oh God, he was strapped down again on that hard, cold table. Why? Oh, dear God, why?! He'd been here before. Why was he back here? What more can they do to him? How did they get him again? Please, God, somebody help him! Someone's behind him. He couldn't ... couldn't see who it was. Head strap digging into his forehead. He heard noises though. The thudding of a human heart beat. Harsh breaths of excitement. Sweaty smell of lust. Having someone tied down and helpless turned this guy on. The metal clink of instruments hitting a metal tray. No! No!! A brutal hand grabbed his hair, fisting it, twisting the strands around, pulling and tugging back hard, the hand managed to pull his head further up and backwards, in spite of the strap. 'Fuck, he's gonna break my neck doin' that!' A flash of steel in the corner of his eye ... scalpel ... and the sharp, sharp stinging pain as his skin and hair was parted from the rest of his skull. Oh, Fuck!! The pain! The fucking pain just won't stop! Can't they knock him out?! Why can't he pass out from this fucking pain?! Can't get away from it! The smell of blood fills his nostrils. His blood! From him! Blood tinged tears slipping down his cheeks. Jaw clenched, teeth grinding. Won't scream! Won't scream for those fuckers! Won't give them the satisfaction! He knows that they're watching him on video. Somewhere in another room, probably jerking themselves off on his pain. Struggling against the straps holding him down. Can't go nowhere! Can't get away! Panic twists his guts, threatening to take over. Deep breath hissing in through clenched teeth, keeping the panic at bay. Can't panic! Can't panic! Won't panic!! Won't give them the satisfaction of losing it. The high pitch whine of a buzz saw, kicking higher the closer it gets to his exposed skull. Oh, shit! Not the saw! Not again! The smell of lust sharper. The bastard's about to cum in his pants! Then the sharp acrid smell of smoke, burning bone, cooking skin from the parts of his scalp that didn't come loose and he knows what those smelled like, smelled it before. The pain hits a split second later. Like having a live wire shooting into his brain! Cooking his mind and melting his demon inside. A blinding white light filled his vision, sharper and stronger then when the chip kicks in. He's burning up from the inside out. He's on fire! He finally loses it. Loses his hold on the panic. "Nnnnnnooooooo!!!"
 

Strong arms are holding him down, smoothing his hair back. His panic intensifies and struggles in the arms holding him. Then he hears the voice from a distance. A soothing voice. His voice. 

"Shhhh, Little One. I have you. Everything's going to be fine. Shhhh."

He opened his eyes. His vision was bleary, looking through tear streaked eyes. He saw a dark man shape holding him. Soothing hands rubbing his back and through his hair. Xander. He had another nightmare and Xander woke him up and is holding him. He had a bad dream and now he's awake and is being held in his love's strong arms.

Spike buries his head in Xander's chest, still trembling from the dream/memory, clutching his arms around his love's ribs, trying to crawl into the safe body holding him. The rocking doesn't stop. Gentle swaying. Soothing voice above him. Heartbeat in his ears. Love surrounds him again. Everything was going to be okay. 

"Shhhh, now. I have you. I'm here."

"Sorry ... sorry I woke ya'. Nigh'mare. Gonna sleep ona couch, 'kay?"

His voice sounded raw in his own ears, harsh from the screaming that he'd done and slurred from sleep. He woke Xander up and now he was holding him. Nothing else mattered.

"Wasn't asleep. There's no couch here. It was just a bad dream. What was it about?"

Spike frowned a little at that, eyes closing in sleepiness. That wasn't right, was it? The words seemed ... wrong. Off somehow. Xander knew what they were all about. They varied from time to time, but he knew what they all were. He'd told him all about them before. Now he was asking about them again. Why? Something felt wrong here, but what? He pushed that little voice down deep inside when he felt the heartbeat. The strong arms around him. The soothing voice. He was safe and that was all that counted. He yawned hugely.

"Ini'tive ... lab ... 'member?" 

"Um ... yeah. Why don't you go back to sleep, okay?"

Spike rubbed his face against the strong chest and emitted another jaw cracking yawn. He snuggled a bit more and said, "Luv ya', nigh', Xan." 

And then his whole body relaxed into the first good sleep he'd had in months.

Angel froze. 'Shit! He thinks I'm Xander! What am I going to do now?' When he'd first gathered the shaking and weeping vamp in his arms, his boy had struggled until he ran his hands down his back and through his hair, trying to soothe the distraught blond. Crooning to him and purring had been a long ago habit, deeply buried until now. It felt natural when he climbed into his lap. He missed that more then he thought. And when he'd first looked up at him with his big blue eyes still unfocused from the nightmare, and finally spoke, he'd gone along with it. Hell, he didn't know that he thought that he was Xander. He was just happy that he didn't pull away from him and clammed up again.

And it was just coincidence that he purred louder when Spike rubbed his face against his chest, seeking a heartbeat that was no longer there. He always used to purr louder when Spike did that. It was a reflex action. He just now figured out, when he called him Xan, that the stress from the bad dream caused him to mistake a purr for a long dead heartbeat. The heartbeat of his dead lover. What the hell was he going to do now? 

He gently lowered the now totally limp body onto the bed. The deeply asleep blond didn't stir. Angel cracked a grin. He always did used to sleep like the literal dead. Except for the nightmares, nothing used to wake him up. When he'd been Angelus, he'd once thrown a big package of firecrackers under his bed, just to see how far he'd jump when they exploded. He hadn't so much as twitched when they went off. Darla had yelled at him for that. Said that he could've set the bed on fire and sent them all up in flames. She'd only complained because she was in the same bed. If she hadn't, Angelus was sure he wouldn't have heard a peep out of her except to complain about the smell of the gunpowder. She never really liked William. Well, never liked him unless he was in her bed, tied up and she could torture him. Maybe he didn't wake up because she'd almost drained him dry. Again. Darla liked lots of blood when she played. Well, lots of William's blood.

Angel frowned at that memory. He felt more guilt about that now. Spike had been tied up for days to that bed. His pale flesh marked with burns, whip marks and bruises; hardly an unmarked inch on him. All because Darla had been jealous of the attention that Angelus had given the fledge. He was newly turned, really a baby for only a few months. He didn't understand the dreams or bloodlust that came upon him at the mere smell of a human. Angelus had spent a lot of his time in William's bed, soothing him from one bad dream or another. Dru couldn't help him. She was more concerned about Miss Edith and her tea parties. She couldn't be a real Sire. He wasn't sure why he hadn't dusted him before. Being tender and considerate went against his demon nature. Dru had seemed more attached to the then honey blond boy than about her other live toys that she'd turn and then abandoned. So, it was up to him to be the Sire. To teach the fledge to hunt. To hurt. To kill. To fuck. God, did he get good in bed. That mouth was born to suck cock and, being turned virgin, his hole was always nice and tight. Angelus liked to take him rough and hard. No lube, nothing to ease the way for the boy except for his own blood, leaking from the torn and swollen hole.

Angel adjusted his pants at the memories of Spike in bed and felt even more guilt, if that was possible. It wouldn't do him any good to go down that road. The past was the past. He realized now that he might still love Spike but that didn't matter if he didn't return the affection. He picked up the covers, grinning involuntarily at the pattern of fluffy clouds and bunny rabbits. Where the hell did they find this? How much of a fight did Spike put up when he saw them? Although, the way he'd been lately, he didn't have much fight left in him. Then again, almost no one could put up much of a fight when Cordy had her mind made up. And, Fred was right. He never noticed the extra blankets or the sheets. All that was going to change. He fixed the bottom sheet, tucked the top covers around him, put the pillows under the blond head and, before he could stop himself, he leaned down and kissed the still damp curls. Spike smiled in his sleep. For once, his face looked relaxed. Calm. 

He'd only taken a few steps before his foot nudged something on the floor. Looking down, he spied the picture, face down on the carpet. It must have fallen off the bed in the middle of the nightmare. He hoped that he hadn't accidentally stepped on it when he got in the bed with Spike. Turning it over, he hoped that the glass hadn't broken. The last thing that he wanted was to be accused of breaking the precious picture on purpose. Good, still whole.

Moving a little, he studied the picture by the light from the bathroom. A smiling Xander and Spike stared up at him. The blond was slightly lower then the dark haired young man, cuddled against his chest. He'd never seen his Grand-Childe smile like that before. His eyes shone with life and love. Hope and happiness filled the grin looking out at him. Xander had much the same look on his face. Except his eyes held a more possessive look. A look that dared anyone to mess with what was his. Their eyes also held a familiar look. The same look that Buffy used to have when she looked at him at the beginning of their relationship; long before he lost his soul and became Angelus again. This look said that they had found their missing half. Their other soul. Their hearts. And he knew that Spike had never looked at him, Angelus or Angel, like that before. Never even looked at Drusilla like that. This was real. This love was real. And with Xander's death, it was over. Except Spike, stubborn bastard that he was, wouldn't let it go. 

He gently tucked the picture in beside the still sleeping blond. He hadn't stirred. The nightmares were gone for now. He hoped that they'd stay away, but knew that was wishful thinking. Some of those dreams would never go away as long as Spike held out hope that Xander would somehow return to him. He had to move on with his unlife. Spike needed his Sire back. He'd do anything he could right now to help him. But first, he had to deal with his friends. They meant well, but they weren't helping him by treating him like this. It was time for him to take responsibility for his family. Starting now.

He made his way downstairs, carrying the still full cup. No way would he try to wake him up to feed now. Not after seeing him sleep like that. Peaceful. Happy. Innocent. Fred gave him a worried glance when she saw him. He told her to let him know when the others arrived and then shut himself up in his office. He needed privacy for this phone call. He had to get to the bottom of this particular nightmare. Buffy had mentioned the ones about Xander's death, her death, and Dawn being taken away. She never mentioned one about the Initiative. And he couldn't call her. She'd just get upset and insist on coming to see him. That wouldn't do at all. The only one that he could call was Giles. Buffy said that Spike stayed with him in the beginning. If anyone would know about those particular nightmares, he might. He needed to know what happened to his Grand-Childe after the Initiative did their damage.

Checking the clock, he saw that it would be night in London. Night, but not too late. Hopefully he would still be home. Digging up the address book, he looked up the number that Wesley had written down for the older Watcher. They still kept in touch, conferring with each other about one demon or another.

He was about to give up after six rings when an out of breath Giles answered the phone. Must have caught him coming in the door. 

"Hello, Rupert Giles here. To whom am I speaking?"

"Hello, Giles? It's Angel. I need to talk to you."

"Oh, dear lord! What's happened to Spike?"

"You know that Spike's staying here? How?"

"Buffy, of course. What's wrong with him? He's not getting better is he?"

'Damn, even Giles was worried about him. What the hell went on when he lived with the Watcher?'

"No, he's not getting better, Giles. I need to ask about the Initiative labs. What do you know about Spike's captivity? I don't know who else to ask. I didn't think that Buffy would know much about it and he did stay with you." 

"Wait, just a moment. Let me put these things down and get comfortable. This might take a while." 

And with that, Giles place the phone handset down on a table. Angel heard him moving around, setting packages on a table, and the clink of glasses and pouring liquid. A long ten minutes later, Giles was back.

"I'm not sure how I can help you, Angel, but I'll tell you everything that I can. When I questioned him, Spike said that he didn't remember much except for rooms made of glass and his escape. I don't think that he wanted to remember anything else. He was under severe stress at the time and I really didn't feel comfortable pressing him about it. Did he say anything in particular that has you worried?"

"No, it's just that he'd had a nightmare. About the labs. I wondered if he had the same ones when he lived with you. I need ... I need to know how he was when he was with the Scooby gang. I need to know everything I can about his time with Xander. If you can tell me anything at all."

There was a long pause on the phone. Giles rubbed his forehead. Oh, no. Not those again. He thought that those dreams were over. Xander says ... had said ... that he hadn't had one of those in a long time. He hoped that he was doing the right thing for Spike by telling him this. No one knew about those dreams, those memories, except for him and Xander. And now Angel.

"Giles? Are you still there?"

There was a long sigh on the other end. 

"I hope you're sitting down for this. It might take some time."

"I'm sitting. Go on."

"When Spike stayed with me, I had him chained in the bathtub. And before you say anything, we knew he was helpless against humans, but we still didn't trust him. He was still a demon after all. Not to be trusted, you know. The animal blood didn't sit too well with him at first. He was thin before he came to us, not being able to feed for several days. Even though he was starving, he couldn't keep the blood down at first. A sensitive stomach, I suppose. Rather like a chocoholic who's just been told he's a diabetic and wasn't able to have sugar. After a few days of throwing it up, he was able to keep it down. I don't think he ever quite got back all the weight that he'd lost. Still on the thin side. But, I'm digressing a bit. Anyway, he wasn't sleeping well. But no nightmares that I could tell at the time. He just slept chained up in the tub. Not moving at all. But I could tell he wasn't sleeping soundly. Well, soundly for a vampire. He always had dark circles under his eyes. A sure sign of sleeplessness. I'm sorry, I'm starting to repeat myself. Anyway, I sent him to live with Xander. He kept him tied down to a chair at night. Still didn't trust him, I suppose. Xander reported that he slept the same as he did in the tub. After a week, he was allowed to sleep on the couch, untied. Free as it were. Xander showed up at my apartment the next morning, after his first night of untied sleep. The boy was near tears. He was in tears by the time he finished telling me what was wrong. It seemed that Spike had a nightmare on the first night that he wasn't tied down. A very vivid one. Actually, it was more like a memory. It seemed that he was awake when they put the chip in. He was awake though it all. I ... I couldn't get much out of Xander. I don't think he could have told anyone about all of it. He was very upset about the whole thing. Understandable really. But, apparently they kept him awake throughout the whole surgery. Strapped him down to a table. Maybe that's why he didn't cry out from a  nightmare when we kept him chained up. Being kept like that must have reminded him of being held captive. About not being able to move or speak. They also kept him awake while cutting into his skull. No pain killers at all. He told Xander all about it. Xander did say that he was talking in his sleep when he relayed this information. Probably the only reason that he told Xander anything. For all of the tough talk that he does, Spike is surprisingly closed mouthed about certain things. Anything that frightens him, I imagine. Well, you would know all about that, wouldn't you? I managed to calm Xander down a little and sent him home. I instructed him to let me know what else Spike told him. I was fishing for information, hoping for anything at the time. We didn't know who the Initiative were or their purpose. I confess, we didn't treat him very well at the time. It wasn't a trusting relationship at first. We didn't trust him and he didn't trust us. Xander did say that after a few days, the lab nightmares went away. Or, they were repressed again, I was never too sure at the time. But, we worried after he moved out of Xander's and into his own crypt. It wasn't a very good crypt. Very dark, dank and depressing. We wondered why he didn't take over your old mansion, actually. Or even your old apartment. But, I'm getting off track again. We knew that he could fight demons by then, but Xander was worried about any hostile humans he might have come across. He did come to one meeting we had, rather banged up, he was. Mugging he said. Didn't want to talk about it and we respected his privacy. Must have been rather distressing for him. Former creature of the night, stalker and killer of innocents and all that, getting mugged by a human. Unable to even defend himself. Xander didn't even crack a joke about it. Actually, I think he was rather angry about the whole thing. I think that he was falling for him a bit even then. I had suspected that it was more then just a mugging though."

"What do you mean, more then a mugging? What else could it have been?"

"Well, I suspected, and I think that Xander did also, that he was raped. Like I said, Spike wouldn't talk about it."

"Why do you suspect that? What did he do or say that made you think that?"

"Oh, well. For one, he was banged up, like I said. More than if it was a simple mugging. I'm quite sure that the only reason he came to the Magic Box was because he wouldn't have made it back to his crypt before daylight. He barely made it to the shop. And he didn't want Xander or me to check him over. Really, he didn't want anyone touching him. Kept stepping away from us whenever one of us came near him. I think that Willow intimidated him though. Threatened to turn him into a toad if he didn't let someone tend to him. He finally consented, but still wouldn't let Xander or me near him. Flinched every time one of us came close. Wouldn't let himself be left alone in a room with one of us or turn his back on us. Lost some weight that he really couldn't afford to lose. Stayed in the back of the shop during daylight hours, locked himself in the training room, but I'm sure he wasn't sleeping. Stuck close to Buffy at night for about two weeks. I imagine because he saw her as sort of a protector. A strong female. One that had no interest in hurting him. Sexually, I mean. I don't know if Buffy suspected or not, but she let him cling a little and didn't complain. Like I said, after two weeks, he seemed his old self. Well, his old self after he was chipped."

"Are you sure that he was fine? He could have been hiding it. Actually, I was surprised that he went to anyone for help, especially Buffy. He never could admit to being weak. What happened then?"

"By then, we were dealing with Glory. Everyone was trying to stay alive and things got ... pushed aside. Spike was badly injured trying to protect Dawn's identity from Glory and we never mentioned the mugging incident again. And then, after Buffy died, the dreams came back. Worse, Xander said. By that time, he'd moved Spike into his place permanently after he was injured yet again. Saved my life at the time, actually. He did tell me that the dreams finally stopped after a few days. That's when Anya left and Xander confessed to me, under oath mind you, something to do about crossing hearts and needles in eye ... anyway, that's when Xander confessed that he had fallen in love with Spike. At first I was shocked. Not about Xander falling in love with another man, but that the man was Spike. Then I remembered all that Spike had done for us. Taking care of Dawn. Going on patrol without complaints or demanding to be paid. In fact, I don't remember Spike ever asking for money or blood during that entire time. Xander did say that he was starving himself again. I'm quite sure that he didn't do it on purpose, though. None of us felt like eating much. As I said, the injuries that night were numerous, old and new. He hadn't been healing like he should have, I do know that. Maybe we had relied on him too much. Like I said, he was taking care of Dawn and patroling with us. He helped me with the research, he knows an amazing amount of demon languages. I'm ashamed to say that we hadn't noticed the loss of weight or amount of stress he was under. He took on too much and we let him. We were all hurting, and I guess, we just let him push himself trying to take care of all of us. But no one was taking care of him. Until Xander made him move in with him. Sorry, repeating myself again. Anyway he manage to get him feeding again, back into fighting shape as it were. Then Xander got injured on the job and Spike took care of him. Before anyone knew it, they were a couple. Despite the fact that we were all missing Buffy, they couldn't have been more in love. I've never seen two people act like that towards each other before. I asked Xander, out of father-like concern of course, if he knew what he was doing. If he was happy with Spike. I was worried that Spike might hurt him. Not physically but emotionally. He said that he'd never felt like this about anyone before in his life. He said that he couldn't live without his bleached blond menace, his words mind you. His life was meaningless without him. He was very dramatic about the whole thing. After watching the two of them, I realized that he was right. Spike and Xander belonged together. I came back to London when I realized that the children that I once knew had grown into responsible adults. Maybe not of my blood, but I always viewed them as mine. My children had grown up and I realized that I was no longer needed as a father. So I came back. Maybe I should have stayed after all. Willow did bring Buffy back from the dead. Maybe if I were there, she wouldn't have tried it. After all, it did turn out that she was in Heaven. Not that I'm not glad that she's back. I'm not saying that. But, it wasn't right. Something could have gone wrong. Terribly wrong. Apparently he and Spike had a fight about that too. Rather serious, I think. Spike just showed up on my doorstep one night, falling down drunk and crying. I think that he was the most dejected sight I've ever seen. I took him in because it was close to sunrise and I was sure that Xander would have been upset over his bursting into flames ...  eventually. As soon as Spike sobered up, and stopped that distressing weeping, I called Xander. He was frantic with worry. He had gone looking for him and, when he couldn't find him in the usual dark places that he hides in when he's caught out after dawn, thought that the sun had fried him. As soon as he arrived, I locked them both in my bedroom to have it out. I left after they started the shouting. I was just grateful that I didn't have anything breakable in there. They made up later, in their usual fashion. I ... burned the sheets after I let them out and they left. Nearly burned the mattress too. *Hhuummp.* Anyway, I left again. Back to here, to London, I mean. A few months later, Buffy called me with the news about Xander. The next time I saw Spike, he was a wreck. Understandably so. I'm not too sure that he even realized that I was there. Buffy called every week after I left, to give me progress reports. I knew he still wasn't coping. Then when Buffy called and told me that you had taken him, I had some hope. But I guess, that was futile. He's not any better and I'm not sure if he'll ever be the same again. I hope that answers any questions you might have. I hope that you can help him." 

"Thanks for telling me that, Giles. I hope that I can help him, too."

Soon after, the two men said goodbye and hung up. Giles replaced the receiver and picked up the large tumbler of bourbon that he'd poured just before beginning his story. Taking a healthy swallow, he felt the warmth race down to his stomach, and then flood throughout his entire body. What he told Angel was true. The dark haired young man had been totally in love with the normally high strung vampire. He hadn't understood the attraction at first. It wasn't as if he'd never been involved with males before. He'd been young once himself. But, whatever the cause had been, it was clear to him that the two men cared for each other. Watched out for each other. Loved each other. That was a very rare thing indeed. Finishing his drink, he stripped and went to bed. His dreams were filled with memories of happy teenagers. Full of laughing brown eyes, soft blue eyes, and all of the children smiling in happiness. It was a lot better then the dreams he had of a girl with long flowing blonde hair, jumping off the top of a scaffolding to save the world.

Angel hung up and thought about what he'd just heard. He had wondered how Spike would've taken the change in diet. From dining on gourmet meals to bread and water, as it were, would have been tough for anyone. It was hard for him at first, but then again, he chose to drink animal blood. With the soul, he couldn't ever feed on humans without suffering massive guilt. His was choice, Spike was forced. 

When Spike had been newly turned, just the smell of blood often had him gagging. It didn't prevent the demon from feeding though. It just took awhile for his stomach to get used to the taste of human blood. He nearly starved those first few months. The feeding and vomiting had really taken their toll on him before he was able to suppress the reflexes. Now he only did that when he was under severe stress. And having his demon nature muzzled like that would do it. He had been told about the Initiative and their experiments before. At first, he'd been kinda glad that Spike was chipped. He couldn't hurt humans and now he wouldn't have to worry about dusting his Grand-Childe. No matter what, Spike could find a way to survive. But this? This was too much. Killing was one thing, self defense was another. Angelus might've raped him repeatedly, it was demon nature to take by force, but Spike had always fought before he gave in to the lust. Now, he couldn't even prevent himself from getting raped by weaker humans. No wonder Spike would've rather allied himself with the Slayer then come to him. Angel, no Angelus, would have seen him as weak. Ineffective. Worthless. Better that he was dust than to have his Grand-Sire look at him like he was garbage. Even when he was in a wheelchair, he served some purpose. Often, he was the only one to calm Dru after a bad spell. He might have been stuck in a chair, but he was still needed.

Then Angel latched onto that word. Needed. That's why he stayed in Sunnydale. Pushed himself. He could have survived on his own after he discovered that he could hurt demons. He stayed because Buffy needed him. Needed his muscle. Needed him to protect her sister. After she died, the others needed him. Needed him to help patrol. Babysit. Research. Spike needed to be needed. He couldn't really function without that. That's why he didn't dust him when he was Angelus. Drusilla needed him to take care of her. Darla needed to torture him. Someone who wouldn't challenge her. And Angelus? Angelus needed to turn him into a sick twisted fuck, just like himself. Now Darla was dust, Dru dumped him, and Angelus was gone for good. Angel with his nice shiny soul would never admit to anyone that he needed someone like him. No help there. No wonder he would have rather allied himself with a vampire's worst enemy. They needed him almost as badly as he needed them. Except, now the girls were more or less independent, Giles was gone and Xander was dead. No wonder he was adrift in grief. His only reason for living, his family, was taken away from him. No one needed him. Except him. He no longer denied to himself that he still loved his troublesome Grand-Childe. 

It was time for him to take control. There was a timid knock on the door. Looking up, he saw Fred's outline in the glass. Everyone was back. Time to deal with them, and then with Spike. Taking a deep, unneeded breath, he exited his office, facing an almost hostile crowd. Damn. This was going to be harder then he thought. Gotta do it though. What did Oprah call it? Tough love. That was it. Tough love. Not that he would ever admit that he watches that show. Cordy had it on and he just happened to be in the same room. That's his story and he's sticking to it. 

Fred looked downright guilty. Gunn and Wesley looked like two children caught with their hands in the cookie jar. Good! They ought to look uneasy. Cordy looked pissed. Very pissed. She would be the one he would have to go though. She was like a mother bear with her cub. Once she took someone under her wing heaven, or hell, help anyone who messed with them. 

Stopping in front of the group, he paused and crossed his arms. He hoped that he looked intimidating. Cordy just narrowed her eyes at him. Addressing her more then the others, he began outlining his plan. The plan to bring back the real Spike. Or as close a facsimile to the original one as they could get.

"Now hear this. For now on, no more meals in bed. He'll be coming down to the kitchen for them. No more coddling. Yes, Cordelia, I said coddling. Your way is not working. It's time to try mine. I'll be taking charge of him for now on. Any decision having to do with him will come from me. I'll take any suggestions though, but the final word will come from me. I appreciate everything you've done for him. I really do. But as the head of his vampire family, I'm taking charge now. No ifs, ands, or buts. No questions. Get it? Got it? Good. I'm going to talk to Spike and I don't want to be disturbed for anything. You're dismissed."

And with that, he swept up the stairs. The next phase of his plan involved Spike. Getting him to cooperate will be an entirely different matter. If not down right impossible at first.

Cordelia looked at Fred. She grinned.

"Well, it took him long enough. Guys, you all owe me ten bucks!"

Cordelia had set this up with the rest of the A.I. team. Mostly it was to help Spike. And they did try to help. But, they didn't seem to get anywhere with him. So, there was nothing wrong with cooking up it an alternate plan. The new plan was to try to get Angel to finally take charge of the fragile blond. It was the classic 'Attention' manouver. The one where one sibling got all of the attention for being good and the bad one didn't. As soon as the bad one started to be good, they got the attention. If they paid enough attention to Spike, Angel would get jealous and act out. Hopefully for the good. Hey, it sounded good to Cordelia at the time and the other's had nothing to lose. They were already helping, so they only had to set him up. Fred's little acting job paid off in spades. And it only took one week for him to crack after they thought it up. One week of over-acting. One week of making sure that Angel saw someone make a frantic run for blood for the bedbound vampire. Cordy bet it would only take a week, Fred two and Gunn and Wesley had opted for one month. The guys just thought he would have his blinders on for a lot longer then he did. After all, Angel never mentioned the changes to the bedroom. He often didn't see things that were staring him right in the face. He was a good guy, but a bit dim at times. 

Angel knew none of this. Soon he was at Spike's door. The vibes had gotten so bad, they were seeping onto the floor below it. If Spike wasn't awake, he'd just wait. Besides, he used to love to watch him sleep.

Opening the door quietly, he peeked in. Spike was still asleep. Still undisturbed by any more bad dreams. He looked like a debauched angel lying among those sheets. Angel sat in the big wingback chair by the window and waited.

Spike slowly came awake and stretched, cat-like. God, he felt good. Sensing that he was alone in their big bed, he turned over to his side, opened his eyes half way and smiled. Xander was sitting in the chair by the window. In the recliner that they had so much fun with, trying all of the various positions they could put it and themselves in. It was amazing that they hadn't broken it yet. Not for the lack of trying though. He was certainly flexible but who knew his Dark Prince was so bendable? He had a nightmare last night and Xander held him. Just like he did every night he had one. So, everything else had been a bad dream. But he was awake now and the bed was cold and lonely. It was time for his Nummy to come back. Pulling back the covers he was about to play Stalk the Prey when his hand fell on something hard. Cold. Squarish. 

He looked down in puzzlement. What was that? It was a ... picture? What was their picture doing in the bed? What was going on here? How did the picture they keep on the living room wall end up in their bed? Spike was beginning to get upset and he didn't know why. He wanted Xander to tell him what was going on. He needed Xander to tell him what was going on. He looked up at his love in confusion.

And blinked.

That wasn't Xander in that chair. The man in the recliner was too big to be him.

He blinked again.

That wasn't their recliner.

An awful feeling came over him.

That wasn't their recliner and that wasn't Xander.

His vision sharpened against his will and the feeling intensified.

That wasn't their recliner, that wasn't Xander and this wasn't their big bedroom in their own apartment.

Oh, dear God.

That wasn't Xander, it was Angel. This wasn't their bedroom back in Sunnydale. He was in L.A. and Angel was in the room, watching him. Xander was gone. That kept repeating in his head. It was all that he could think about. His Xander was gone.

Gone.

Gone.

Gone!!! 

The awful feeling was replaced by the numbness again and he was grateful. He'd rather feel the nothing than this. He reached out with one trembling hand and hugged the picture to his chest. He curled into his familiar ball and pulled the covers over his head. He thought that he made some kind of sound, but it really didn't register with him. He just wanted to keep the whole world out. He figured that Angel would ask him if he wanted to go downstairs. All he had to do was ignore him and then he'd go away again. Just like every other time he stopped by. 

Angel had to wait for twelve hours before Spike woke up. No one disturbed them. He used that time to reflect on his relationship with the younger vamp. As Angel, he hated the insolent and destructive demon that he had become. The demon that he helped create. Angelus couldn't take all of the blame. Even before the soul, he loved Spike, or William, as he often called him just to piss him off. As Angelus he couldn't handle the emotion of love. Demons didn't love. So he tortured him. Raped him repeatedly and enjoyed his suffering. It was all about sex with Angelus. After Spike learned to fight back, to care for him, he twisted the obsession he had again. Often going for verbal abuse and hitting a raw nerve. Calling him a worthless fuck not worth his time when he crawled into his bed, looking for comfort after Darla was though with him. Berating him whenever he looked to his Sire for approval. Telling him that he was useless in front of Drusilla brought him further down. Oh, yeah. He did a great job in creating Spike. He turned his sweet and gentle William into a monster. All because as a demon, he couldn't handle the emotion of love. Maybe now he could make it up to him. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd never be able to make up for what he did as Angelus. He knew that Spike didn't love him. He still loved Xander. But maybe, just maybe, he had a small spot reserved for Angel. He'd take anything he could get. Even if he hated him, he could live with that; as long as he was healthy again. After all, part of him still loved Buffy. Maybe he had a chance. Maybe they both did. That is, if he could help Spike. It all rested on him.

When Spike woke up and smiled at him, his long dead heart had soared. Spike was fine. Apparently, all he needed was some much needed, restful sleep. One not invaded by nightmares. And then his hand found the picture. Spike looked up him, confusion written all over his face. Angel knew then that Spike still thought that he was Xander. His heart broke when Spike realized that he wasn't. His blue eyes, once filled with love and joy when he first saw him, turned dull and bleak again. He saw his hand tremble when he pulled the picture to his chest and begin to curl into his familiar ball, withdrawing from him and the rest of the world. He felt like crying himself when he heard the heart broken vampire whimper. Spike never whimpered. Never! Not even when Angelus or Darla had tortured him for days. He never broke. Never. 

Until now.

When Spike pulled the covers over his head, he finally moved to sit on the bed. He had known that this wasn't going to be easy, and now, it just got harder. He gently pulled the covers back until his head was exposed. Spike's eyes were wide open but Angel was sure that he wasn't seeing anything. He kept his voice firm when he spoke. He knew that Spike wouldn't respond to anything else. 

"Spike?"

No reaction.

"Spike? I know that you can hear me. Say something."

Nothing again.

"Spike, I'm claiming Sire's rights. I want you to answer me and I want you to answer me now. Or else."

Nothing yet again. Just as Angel was going carry out the 'or else', even though he wasn't sure what he would have done, there was a small whisper from the grief stricken blond lying in bed.

"You're not my bleedin' Sire." 

Angel blew out a relieved breath and grinned. That was a totally Spike-like thing to say. Something that he was sure he hadn't said in a long time. 

"No, but since the Master's dead and Darla's dust, that makes me the head of the Aurelian line. And, since Drusilla hasn't shown her face, that means I can claim Sire's rights in her place. And I'm claiming them now."

There was a deep sigh from Spike. He still wouldn't look at him, but Angel dismissed that show of disrespect. He told himself to take one step at a time. Besides, disrespect was something that Spike relished. There was another deep sigh before the whisper soft voice responded.

"Fine. Whatever you say. What do you want ... Sire?"

And Angel felt disappointment. His voice was dull and lifeless again. He had expected Spike to fight him on that. He always did have a problem with authority figures, Dru notwithstanding. He would have been happier if Spike had gotten angry and called him Peaches or Wanker. 

"There aren't going to be any more meals in bed. When you get hungry, you go down to the kitchen. If you don't know where it is, ask somebody. Ok?"

There was a long pause before the dull lifeless voice said, "Fine. Anything else, Sire?"

"No, that's all for now. Do you want to come downstairs?"

"No, thank you, Sire."

Angel swallowed a sigh of dismay. Spike being polite was a bad sign. Getting up from his spot on the bed, he left the room. But, just as he reached the doorway, he said over his shoulder, "I didn't say this before, but, I'm sorry about Xander. I hope you believe that." 

He left because he knew that there wasn't going to be an answer. He just hoped that he hadn't pushed it with that last statement. He had to believe that he was doing the right thing. He had to.

Spike just lay there. God, he missed Xander. He wanted him here. No, he didn't want him to be here. He didn't want to be here himself. If Xander were here, he wouldn't be here. He had to admit, sometimes he confused himself. He suddenly gave a small smile. Oh, he'll do what the bloody poof of a Sire wanted alright. He said, specifically, when he got hungry, go down to the kitchen. Well, since he hadn't felt hungry in a very long time, he could safely follow that rule. Maybe now, the bloody humans in this place would finally leave him the hell alone.

*****

One week later, Cordelia cornered Angel in his office. She was angry. No, more then angry. She was Pissed! She tried to stay out of it. She really did. She swallowed her pride and let Angel handle everything. But Angel wasn't helping.  In fact, things were worse. She'd just been up to see Spike and now it was up to her to handle things. 

Angel looked up at the sound of the slamming door. Cordy stood in front of his desk, arms crossed, furious expression on her face, breathing heavily. Oh, God. Cordy's pissed. What now? He frantically searched his memory for anything that he had done lately to cause this. Nothing came to mind.

"Uh, can I help you Cordy?"

Great, sound like a coward. His demon side wanted to cringe at the pathetic sound of his voice. Cordelia hadn't looked this angry since he'd fired her, Wesley and Gunn that time that Darla had come back. Actually, she was more angry that he'd given all of her clothes to charity. Thank God that he'd dusted Darla the second time and Wesley found that spell to make sure that she'd never be resurrected again. 

"Can you help me? No, you can't help me. I thought you were going to help Spike! Why aren't you helping him?"

Angel stared at her in shock. He was helping Spike. Or, at least, he was trying his best.

"I've just been up to see him. As per your 'orders', neither Fred, Wesley, Gunn nor I have been taking him blood. I caught him as he was coming out of the shower. He hasn't been feeding. At all. He's lost all the weight that he'd gain. He's back to looking like a skeleton again. Fix him!"

She slammed the door again on her way out, leaving him sitting there feeling like he'd been hit by a truck. The anger hit him a minute later. Spike hadn't been feeding. He distinctly disobeyed a direct order. An order given by his Sire.

Still angry, he slammed the poor door a third time on his way out. Stalking up the stairs, three at a time, got him to Spike's floor quickly. The dark vibes hadn't abated one little bit. In fact, he thought, they'd gotten worse. 

Flinging open the door, Angel was prepared to yell at him again. He wanted to yell until he saw Spike sitting up in bed, rocking against the headboard, holding his picture. He looked just like he did at the graveyard. Cordy was right. He was back to looking like a walking skeleton. The anger quickly left, replaced by dismay.
. 
"Spike?"

Nothing from him.

"Spike? Please answer me. I want to help. I really do."

Spike looked up at him. The circles under his eyes had gotten bigger. His eyes were still dull and haunted. He stopped rocking.

"What do you want, Sire?"

'Well, at least he knows who I am', he thought. He wondered for a second about why he was disappointed by that. Then he remembered the night that Spike had thought that he was Xander. He loved Xander and he'd responded to him so easily. A wave of jealousy hit him. Spike might never respond to him like that. Oh, who the fuck was he kidding? He knew that Spike would never cling to him like that.

"Why haven't you been feeding? I gave you an order and you disobeyed me. I want to know why and I want to know now. No lying about this."

"I didn't disobey you, Sire. I followed your instructions to the letter."

"No, you haven't. I told you to go to the kitchen to feed. You haven't been eating for a week at least."

"Your words were, and I quote 'When you get hungry, you go down to the kitchen' end quote. I haven't been hungry so I haven't fed. End of story. Now, please leave us ... me ... me alone."

Angel tactfully ignored that slip and swallowed his frustration. Now was not the time to address that problem. He tried to focus on the issue at hand. Namely: Spike feeding.

"You're right. I should have made myself clearer. I'll take the time to remedy that right now. You will go downstairs to the kitchen to feed. Every day. Whether your hungry or not. You will consume at least three bags a day until I'm satisfied that you've gained weight again. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Sire. I understand. Am I required to go now?"

"Not right this second, no. But I'll be waiting for you in the kitchen. Don't make me wait for long." 

Angel left the room before he could give into the overwhelming urge to hug him or strangle him. He always wanted to throttle the rebellious Spike for not following orders. Then, there always was something about a vulnerable Spike that made him want to hold him for days. Just holding him like he did when he had that nightmare last week. Fuck! What the hell was he doing? Spike was here to heal, not be mauled by him. Besides, he was still grieving over Xander. He'd never have a chance as long as he was still pining over him. Angel might love Spike, but it was obvious that Spike didn't love him.

Spike watched Angel leave the room. He really didn't want to go down to the kitchen. He really didn't want to drink three bags of blood. He really didn't want to obey him. He really, really didn't want to be here at all. Maybe, just maybe, if he did what Angel said, for now at least, he'd be satisfied and let him leave. Let him leave L.A. and go back to Sunnydale. Back to Xander. 

Uncurling from the headboard and standing beside the bed, he carefully placed his picture in the middle of the bed; face down and surrounded by the pillows. He wasn't going to take any chances, just in case of a surprise earthquake. He ignored his shoes, he wouldn't be out of bed for that long, and made his way downstairs.

He felt like he was walking though molasses, the air suddenly heavy and thick. Each step felt like it took years to take. He found that he had to hold onto the wall for support when he started weaving. He couldn't understand why he was so weak and tired. So very, very tired. The furthest he'd walked since he found his room was from the bed to the shower. How could he feel this way? Had plenty of rest, didn't he? He felt all of his 126 years. Every one of them.
   
Angel was beginning to get worried now. It had been three hours since he left Spike. He was sure that the younger vampire had followed him down. Maybe he'd been too hard on him. Then he dismissed that thought. He had to be firm with his Grand-Childe. It was the only way now. 

He was just about to go find Spike when he sensed that he was near. Not because he was bonded by Sire-Grand-Childe connection, but because he felt the wave of misery hitting the kitchen before he even stepped through the doorway.

He finally wandered in, feet bare, holding onto the wall for balance. Angel almost got up from the chair to help him. Then he resisted the action. He knew that Spike would only refuse the help. He wouldn't touch him because he knew that he still had some pride left in him. Helping him would just humiliate him. And he refused to do that to him again.

Spike stopped in front of the refrigerator and stared at it. 'Right', he thought to himself, 'let's get this over with. The sooner I'm done here, the sooner I'll be back in my room.' And with that little pep talk, he opened the door, took out three bags at once. His stomach rolled in revulsion. Morphing into his game face, he quickly bit into the first bag and drank it one go. It tasted awful but he wouldn't take the time to heat it, preferring to just get it all over with.

He gulped the cold thick liquid; forcing it down. As soon as that one was done, he started on the second one. And then the third. Finished, he threw the empty bags into the garbage and walked out of the kitchen. He headed back to bed. 

*****

T.B.C.