Chapter 2

*****

The place was impressive; he had to give the poof that. Not like he'd ever tell him that though. Angel was already overdoing the whole, "I'm so much better than you are or ever will be" bit, strutting around like he owned the place... Okay, so maybe he did actually own the place, but still... 

He tried to appear bored and uninterested in his surroundings, but he kept sneaking glances, trying to form an impression of the place that was going to be his new home. Unfortunately for Spike, interest won out and he wasn't paying any attention to where he was going when he smacked full tilt into a very large, very green demon. Who was wearing...gold lamé? Well, this is interesting... 

Quirking an eyebrow, he affected nonchalance. "Can I help you with something, mate?" he inquired, giving the demon the once-over, then wincing as the clashing colors of the demon's suit wreaked havoc on his eyes. 

"Lorne, this is Spike, Spike, this is Lorne," Angel introduced them, suddenly appearing next to Spike. 

Spike cursed silently as he jumped again. Either he was just extra jumpy today, or Angel was having way too much fun with the whole sneaking around bit. Spike snuck a quick glance in his direction, and if he hadn't known better, he would've sworn that the Great Poof was smirking. 

Lorne tilted his head, giving Spike a sideways glance. "You know, this is almost anticlimactic. I thought he'd be taller, Angelcakes." 

Spike bristled at the slight, and was about to return fire, then...Angelcakes? Smirking, he remarked, "I thought this was L.A. -- not San Francisco, Peaches."

Angel's brow furrowed in confusion at the apparent non sequitur, then his eyes widened comically as he caught Spike's meaning. Lorne, on the other hand, just laughed. 

"Not that kind of demon, honeybuns." Lorne winked at Spike, then sauntered off. 

Honeybuns? Spike stared after him for a minute, and then surprised Angel by bursting out into laughter. "Where the hell did you pick that one up, Peaches?" he asked, indicating Lorne with a nod in his direction. 

Angel shrugged. "That's just Lorne. You'll get used to him." 

"You told them all, then?" Spike frowned. He was surprised that the green demon had been expecting him. He hadn't thought that Angel would tell his employees right off that the Big Bad was coming. He'd figured that Peaches would just shuffle him off into some dark corner of the hotel and do his best to pretend that Spike didn't exist.

"Told who what?" 

"Your busy little worker bees, you told them the Big Bad was coming? Got them all hid now, in case I was feeling a bit peckish after the trip?" Why did you tell them, Angel? What did you tell them? Are they afraid? They should be. I'm a monster… Did you tell them that, Angel? Do they know what I've done? Are they scared? They should be.

He told that damned soul of his to shut up again, and wished for the millionth time that the cursed thing had an off-switch. Unfortunately, it was just as anxious as he was about the whole living and working with Angel deal. It threatened him with buckets of guilt if any harm was to come to Angel's employees, and he just wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, to tell it to bugger off, because it sure as hell wasn't getting the hint despite his constant reassurances that he wasn't going to eat anybody. Idly he wondered if the Poof's soul was just as annoying.

Angel sighed. So Spike had noticed after all. He always had been the observant one. "Yes, I told them you were coming. No, I didn't think you were going to eat them, I just gave them the night off." Angel's gaze shifted to an invisible speck of lint on the hem of his shirt. "I thought it might be overwhelming, having all of them around your first night here." 

"Oh, right then." Had he just gone insane, or was Angel actually being considerate for once?  And why weren't his little minions off cowering in fear somewhere? He was the Big Bad, dammit. They were supposed to be scared. His soul and the demon had a rare moment of agreement. Angel was too trusting, he should have warned them, should have told them what he was capable of. Even with the soul he had killed…

"They should be scared, you know..." His voice was barely a whisper, his mind suddenly flooded with images of those he had killed after his return from Africa. He withdrew into himself, not wanting to see those faces, hear those voices again. He tried to push them all away, but they closed in, suffocating him. Deep down he knew that he had killed them only because he had been the First's bitch at the time, but the fact remained that he had taken those lives all the same… He would always remember.

A sudden chill passed through Angel. The look that had passed through his grandchilde's eyes… It was a mirror to his own pain, and he winced in empathy. As much as he didn't want to become…attached to the blond vampire again, he couldn't help but feel drawn to him, knowing exactly what he was going through. Buffy had told him of Spike's crazed episode in the school basement, and of the sick games that the First had played with his grandchilde. She had told him how Spike magically seemed to recover… But deep down, Angel knew that the blonde's suffering had only just begun. Sparing him a glance, Angel saw that Spike was shaking slightly, trembling. He was filled with a sudden desire to comfort Spike, and he tried his best to repress it, knowing that any show of sympathy or understanding on his part would only be met with suspicion and contempt. 

But looking at the flickering emotions on his grandchilde's face, he couldn't just ignore what the other vamp was going through.

"Spike, they may just be humans, but they deal with demons all the time. They can handle themselves. They'll probably just steer clear of you for a while anyway, given your history, especially Wes and Cordelia, but…" 

Spike flinched as Angel's voice faded into so much background noise. Thanks for the reminder, mate. It was like that damned chip all over again. Except this time, instead of blinding sparks of pain in his head, he was now controlled by guilt and shame for what he was, what he had been, and it was tearing through his heart, ripping the useless organ to shreds. He didn't want to be so bloody useless, like before, crippled. He knew he could be strong; he had been, for her. He had fought and won, saved the day. He had done everything for her; she had been his motivation to become the kind of man...that she could love. But it hadn't lasted, it wasn't real. He had ended up needing her far more than she had ever needed him. And now, having broken the last ties between them, there was nothing left. He was left entirely alone to face the consequences of the decision he had made over two years ago. Alone, with no blonde Slayer to come to his rescue this time. And a grandsire that hates you. He's all you've got. 

"Spike?" He had stopped talking when he realized the other vampire was no longer listening, and there had been absolute silence for a full five minutes. Now he was worried. When Spike was this quiet, he was either up to something or there was something seriously wrong with him. "Spike." Still getting nothing from the blond vamp, he reached out to him through the unique bond that they shared. Granted, they hadn't shared blood in ages, weakening the link, but they would always be connected, due to the…unusual way Spike had been sired.

 Spike's head immediately snapped up when he felt the intrusion.

"Stop." His icy blue eyes burned into Angel's. "You've got no right to go poking about in my head. Get out." The soul was bad enough, acting up as it was, but the last thing he needed was a reminder of his unconventional creation. Please, don't make me remember… It was bittersweet, a reminder of days when he had done unspeakable things, but also a reminder of a time when he had been loved, wanted…accepted.

Fuck. Now he'd pissed Spike off. "Just talk to me, Spike. I feel like we're having two different conversations here. I was just..." Making sure you were okay? He didn't finish out loud, afraid that Spike would laugh at him for sounding like he cared, and terrified that voicing his concern would bring him that much closer to admitting that he actually did care. 

"Just stop, alright? I'm fine. Let's just get on with this, yeah?" He motioned for Angel to get on with the Grand Tour. Sure, he was a bit unsettled that Angel had tried to pull that mind-reading trick of his, but the fact that he had attempted it at least showed he cared... Not alone? He laughed bitterly. Angel didn't care that much. He helps the hopeless, remember? It's his job, you stupid git.

Angel was still worried about the emotions flickering through those blue eyes, but he knew that it'd be a cold day in hell before Spike would willingly talk about his problems. Great, just what I need… I don't think there's enough room in this hotel for two brooding vampires...

Angel led Spike upstairs, to the room that he had prepared a few days before. 

"Well, here we are. It's not much, but I didn't have time to do more than clean it; we've had more than our fair share of cases lately." Angel turned the handle and swung the door open. "That and I figured you'd want to change everything all around anyway, get it the way you like it." He walked on in, and Spike followed, puzzled as to why Peaches would actually care how he wanted his room decorated. 

"Bed's over there.  I sent Cordy out a while ago to go get sheets and stuff, she should be back soon. The mini-fridge is over there, and if you could make a list of furniture and whatever else you'll need, we can take care of that tomorrow." 

Spike looked around in confusion. It wasn't much, but the fact that Angel had done this for him...and had promised him more, it was just too much. Either his grandsire had received a significant head injury lately, or Angel was up to something. All this out of the goodness of his tortured little soul?  Not bloody likely. Angel hated him; he had made that painfully clear on numerous occasions. What did Angel hope to get out of all this? What did he have to gain by helping someone he despised?

"What's your angle, Angel? What do you get from this, making with the nice? Is this all part of that prophecy, you get to be a real boy if you fill your quota of charity cases?" 

So Buffy had told him about the Sanshu prophecy... Wonder what Spike thinks about that? Wonder if he wants it for himself… "Nothing, Spike. I get nothing. The prophecy…it doesn't work that way." 

Spike snorted. "So you're doing this out of the goodness of your unbeating heart? Why do I find that hard to believe? Oh, right, because we hate each other!" 

"What do you want, Spike? You want help, you don't want help? Pick one. If you stay, I treat you like any other employee. I take care of my employees; I don't make them stay in the basement, Spike."  Angel winced as he realized that Spike might perceive his last statement as directed towards Buffy's treatment of the blond. He opened his mouth to amend what he had said, but he was already too late…

"Oh, don't even bring her into this!" Spike swore and began to pace, his fingers searching out a much-needed cigarette in his duster pocket. Realization dawned upon him. "It's her, innit? Rang you up, told you to play nice for her sake and all that rot? Well don't bother, I don't need your fucking charity, alright? I'll mention you offered, but I'll be damned if I'll stay here." Unable to find a cigarette, he stomped his foot and growled in frustration. 

Assuming the Slayer even cares enough to check up on me. With a sinking feeling he realized he would probably never see her again. But that was good, right? She had destroyed him, permanent distance was the best solution. Looking up, he saw the other person that had been equally successful at utterly destroying his life, his confidence, and his self-reliance. 

Distance had never worked with Angel, though. No matter how hard he had tried, he always ended up back here. Always. This was his beginning and his end. All roads led back to his grandsire, no matter how hard he tried to change. And here he was, asking the poof for shelter while he got his sorry excuse of an existence sorted out. He couldn’t depend on him, he wouldn't depend on him, never again. Not after the last time…not after he had been abandoned without a second thought.

Tears threatened to fall, and he hated himself for that weakness. Damned soul. He was slowly remembering why he had relished being turned. William had been so weak, overly sensitive, a dreamer and a fool…it was disgusting. He had worked so hard to separate himself from that persona, to rebuild himself as someone that could be feared and respected. And now he was falling apart, the soul cutting through him like a wasting disease. Afraid that Angel could see him reverting to his human self, he fled the room and swept down the hallway, intent on leaving, getting as much distance as he could between him and his grandsire, who was as much to blame for this emotional upheaval as the damned soul was. 

He was stupid to think that this ever could have worked, he never should've come, it was a mistake. Angel hated him, he hated Angel; there was too much between them to think that this could've ever worked, there was too much history and a certain blonde Slayer standing in the way. He should have never-- A strong hand grasped his arm, roughly pulling him around to face Angel's angry gaze. 

"Get over it, Spike. You need help, and I'm offering. Don't be an ass." 

"Don't fucking need anything, leave me the hell alone, you fat git!" Please, just let me go before I lose it all in front of you. I promised myself that I'd never let you see me cry again, don't make me break that promise... Spike struggled in vain to free himself from Angel's grip. 

Why was he even bothering? Sure, so Buffy had made him promise to look after the younger vamp, but if Spike decided he didn't want any help, who was he to argue? With a small jolt of realization, Angel knew full well why he wasn't letting Spike go. He wanted to help. And not only that, but he wanted to be needed. By Spike. Maybe this was the Power's way of giving him a second chance to correct past wrongs between him and his grandchilde. Or maybe you just want your grandchilde to need you, want you, like he used to… No. That was definitely the demon talking. He just wanted to help.

Angel loosened his grip on Spike slightly, so he was no longer hurting the younger vamp, and he used a tone of voice that he hoped was soothing. "Just stay. At least one night. If this doesn't work out, then we'll figure something else out." 

He felt himself falling. The soft look in those warm brown eyes begged him to stay; they spoke of acceptance and longing... They spoke of all the things that Spike craved. To be needed, wanted, loved…to belong. But he couldn't stay, he just couldn't. Sure, Angel could say what he wanted when it was just them alone in a hallway, but what about when it actually mattered, when his humans came back to work? Spike wouldn't be ignored or set aside. He wouldn't be Angel's dirty little secret. He wanted to be his own man, someone who could stand to look at himself in the mirror, metaphorically speaking. 

Having made his decision, he tried pulling himself free one last time. Unsuccessful again, he kicked Angel in the balls, forcing the older vampire to let go, and Spike ran as fast as he could. 

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