Title:   A Past Not Forgotten

Author:   angelspike69 & anamcara420

Rating:   NC17

Pairing:   Angel/Spike

Summary:   It's been 25 years since the events in the alley.  Who survived?

Spoilers:   There will be some slight spoilers from Not Fade Away, and then it goes totally AU as the screen went black.

Warnings:   M/M sex – if this isn't your cup of tea, then don't read.

Disclaimer:   Joss created the characters.  We're just playing with boys, and having lots of fun.

Distribution:   My Perfect Rhyme.  If you'd like to archive it, please ask.

Authors' Note #1:   Thanks to dragonydreams for answering our request for a beta.  You are fantastic.

Authors' Note #2:   The flashback sequences in this chapter were written with the help of Buffy World - http://www.buffyworld.com.

Feedback:   AngelSpike69 (marinersgal69@msn.com) & Anamcara420 (anamcara@excite.com)

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Chapter 14

Angel woke hours later.  When he glanced at the clock, it was late afternoon.  He got up and showered quickly.  He wanted to look over his notes for tonight's class.  He also had to do some laundry.  The basket in his closet was overflowing.  He dressed and carried the laundry into the tiny alcove at the edge of kitchen.  He tossed the clothing into the washer and turned it on.  He made himself a mug of blood in the microwave and carried it to his desk to retrieve his notes.  Even though he had taught the class for fifteen years, he changed it almost every semester.  He had more slides to show tonight.  This time the art was all geared toward the mythology of Greece and Rome.  The students seemed to be more comfortable with these images since most of them knew the ancient myths.  There was usually a lively discussion about the art and the myths that had influenced the stories of later societies.  The next class would be Gothic Art and the early Renaissance.  He had to skip huge sections in the History of Art timeline, but the class was only a semester and he couldn't possibly do everything.  He always made sure he saved time for Modern Art and Pop Art, neither of which he liked, but the students always did.  He had found an artist in the neighborhood who created Pop Art and he always took his class to the man's studio at the end of course.

When Angel entered his classroom, he glanced around the room.  Will was in his seat in the back.  When he saw Angel look at him, he lowered his head to his notebook.  Angel tensed.  At the end of the class, the young man was one of the first out of the door.  Angel walked home, conflicting emotions slowing his pace.  He felt dejected because Will obviously wanted nothing to do with the crazy vampire who plagued his dreams, relieved because the young man would be safer away from him and hurt, although he had no right to be.  When he got home, he finished his laundry and put in an old Star Wars film.  He drank several glasses of Jameson's as he watched the young heroes save the world.  He fell asleep on his sofa and dreamed that he was Hans Solo and Spike was Luke Skywalker.

He awoke before dawn, groggy and stiff from his second night on the couch and stumbled into his bedroom to sleep again.  When he awoke hours later, he showered and opened his package of books on Victorian painters and spent the afternoon and evening reading and sketching.  Each time an image from his past, during his time with Darla, Drusilla and Spike in London tried to insinuate itself into his thoughts, he determinedly shoved it aside.  But later as he lay in bed, his mind overruled him and he spent hours thrashing about, and worrying about Will, until he finally fell asleep as the weak winter sun rose in the sky.

He woke late in the afternoon and hurriedly showered and went early to his office at the university.  He wanted to check the slides in the projector before class.

****

"Good evening.  I hope you've all read the chapter on Gothic Art.  Who can give me an encapsulated version of the style?"

One of his most interested students raised her hand and began the discussion.  As usual, only a few of the students were interested in the period.  He glanced to the back and Will was there, although his head was bent to his notebook.  He shut the lights and began to show the slides of the various cathedrals whose facades contained intricate sculptures of saints, angels and demons and the frescoes, panels, stained glass, and manuscript illumination that were created during the period.

He moved swiftly into a brief lecture on the early Renaissance painters.  As he expected, the artist that fascinated the students most was Hieronymus Bosch.  Fortunately, his slides of the period were filled with the complex paintings of the artist whose works, though highly religious in subject, depicted sin and human failings, brutality and torture.

When the lights came up, the students gathered their things and left.  Will's seat was already empty.  He locked everything in his office and walked home.  The grisly scenes in Bosch's paintings probably inspired images from our sadistic past.  As he walked toward the park, he heard shouting and hurried to find the cause.  He stopped, stunned.  He could see Will in the dim light of the streetlamp battling several demons.  Angel knew that Will was no match for them, but he could see a lot of Spike in the human's fighting.  The only thing that was missing was Spike's arrogant taunting that always egged his opponent to fight on to its death.  Will seemed to have better sense than to do that.  They were Kralle demons, seven foot beasts whose long arms ended in several six inch long claws.  For all that his fighting style reminded him of Spike, Will was human and he was losing the fight.  The demons slashed his body brutally.  Angel roared, his face immediately changing.  Startled, the demons looked up.  Before they could decide how to act, Angel was on them.  He twisted the necks of two of the demons and their heads fell to the ground; their bodies collapsed into putrid ooze.  The remaining demon ran.  Angel did not pursue but knelt quickly at Will's side.  He was bleeding from the many tears in his skin but he was breathing.

As Angel picked him up, two policemen stepped from the bushes.

"Can we do anything, sir?  We'll call an ambulance."

"No.  No.  I'll take him home with me.  He...he has no family in town."

The older cop nodded although he looked uncertain.  The boy's wounds looked deep, but he had been told to only offer assistance to this man, never to insist.

"Thank you."  Angel returned the nod and hurried out of the park.  He ran the short block to his apartment and entered the building.  The elevator was waiting and he carried Will inside and rode impatiently the twelve floors to his apartment, constantly watching the rise and fall of the young man's thin chest.  The vampire carefully held him against his chest with one arm as he opened the door.  He kicked it closed with his foot.  He walked quickly into the bathroom and laid Will on the floor near the tub and reached over to turn on the taps.  As the water poured into the huge tub, Angel carefully removed the young man's clothes.  He bit his lip at the extensive wounds.  Will moaned.  "Shhhh.  You'll be all right, Will.  It's Professor McDonagh.  I'll take care of you, like you took care of me."

Will's eyelids fluttered open briefly and Angel could see that the pain and tears had dulled his brilliant blue eyes before they closed again; his dark lashes cast shadows on his pale cheeks.  The vampire lifted the slender body into the warm water.  Will moaned again but did not open his eyes.  As Angel sponged off the blood, a memory of bathing a fledgling William floated into his mind.  The women were gone and they had hunted.  The prostitute that the young vampire accosted had a knife and plunged it into William as he bit into her neck.  Angelus had helped William home and had the minions prepare a bath.  "Don't know where that knife has been, boy.  Best to clean you up."  Although William had been embarrassed at first, he was a sensual being, and quickly reveled in the luxury of Angelus bathing him.  Of course the intimacy of the bath aroused Angelus and although he protested, William knew his pleas would be ignored.  Angelus took what he wanted when he wanted it.  Something of tenderness always quickly devolved into brutality.

Angel reached for one of his huge bath towels and laid it on the cold tile floor.  He lifted Will from the tub and laid him on the towel, quickly wrapping him up and standing.  He carried the unconscious young man into his bedroom.  He flung back the heavy quilt and placed Will on the bed, covering him with the soft sheet.  He hurried back to the bathroom and gathered supplies to tend his wounds.  Will had not moved nor opened his eyes.  Angel drew back the covers and began to disinfect the cuts; several of them were very deep.  He needs stitches.  Should I call an ambulance?  How would I explain the injuries?  What does that matter?  He needs medical attention.  Then he remembered.  One of his neighbors was a nurse.  She was a friend of sorts ever since he had helped her with an abusive husband, although she didn't know he was a vampire.

He covered Will and hurried to the telephone and called Mary.  She answered after several rings and it was obvious from her groggy voice that she had been sleeping.

"Mary, it's Professor McDonagh...Liam, I'm sorry to bother you but a young student has been hurt.  He needs stitches.  He doesn't want to go to the hospital.  Could you...?"

The woman interrupted, her voice awake and strong now.  "I'll get dressed.  I'll be there in a few minutes."

About five minutes later, Angel heard a knock on the door.  He practically ran to open it.  Mary, slightly disheveled, stood there, a small medical bag in her hands.

"Come in.  He's in my bedroom."

Mary immediately went over to the bed and gently lifted the coverlet.  She drew in her breath sharply and turned to Angel.  "What made these cuts?"

Angel stared at her for a minute, wondering what to say, and then the woman looked away and opened her bag.  She began to cleanse and disinfect the wounds and got out her suture kit.

"Mary...um...are you aware...there are other beings besides humans on the planet."

She looked up at him sharply.  "Demons?"

Angel looked at her, surprised.  "Yes.  Will was attacked by demons with extremely long claws."

She turned her head and continued her work as she spoke.  "I've...I've heard things...and people have arrived in the emergency room with injuries like this.  I can accept that demons could do so much damage.  It's when the perpetrator is a human being that infuriates me."

When she began to stitch the deeper wounds, Angel turned away.  That beautiful skin now scarred.  Why?  Because he came to New York to find me.  To find out about his memories.  He lived without danger for twenty-five years and within weeks of arriving here, near me, he's almost killed.  He needs to go home.  Forget about...forget about who he was as Spike.  He needs to be safe.  He needs to be far away from me.  He started.  Mary had apparently said something to him and he hadn't responded.

"Sorry.  I...I'm worried about him.  His parents are out of the country.  I don't know how to contact them."

The nurse smiled at him.  "I've closed the wounds.  He...he should be all right, but we need to be vigilant.  I don't know what was...I don't know if there was poison of any kind in those...claws.  I've drawn a blood sample and I'll take it to the hospital lab so I know what kind of meds he might need.  You'll watch over him?"

"Yes, I...I won't leave his side.  You'll call me with the lab results?"

"Yes.  I'll drive to the hospital now.  My friend is working in the lab tonight so I can rush this."  She touched Angel's arm.  "We'll find out.  We'll help him, Professor."

Angel nodded and glanced at the injured young man in his bed.

Mary touched his arm again.  "I'll show myself out.  You stay with him.  Watch for a fever."

Angel looked at her and nodded again.  Mary turned and left the room and the apartment.

He dragged a chair close to the bed and sat down, grasping one of Will's slender hands in his, rubbing his thumb over the back.  Another image from the past flitted into his thoughts.  One night Spike had gone out to hunt on his own when they were all in Vienna.  Angelus...he... was livid.  They were leaving the next night.  Mobs were searching the streets after a series of brutal murders by other vampires.  Spike had slipped out despite being ordered to stay in.  Angelus thought briefly about letting the mob kill the annoying younger vampire, but...Drusilla was calmer when Spike was with her and...and Spike was often good company when the women were gone.  Angelus had moved stealthily through the streets avoiding the mob.  He followed Spike's scent and found him in a barn, cowering in a stall.  He had been beaten badly.  His eyes were almost swollen shut and a bone protruded from his leg.  Spike had looked at him, his blue eyes burning with pain.  Angelus scooped him up and carefully carried him home.  He had bathed and cleansed his wounds.  Drusilla could do nothing but weep and moan.  Darla would have rather Spike died.  After he was clean and bandaged, Angelus sat briefly by his bedside.  Spike's eyes fluttered open and he reached out his hand.  Startled, Angelus took it.

"Thank you, Sire.  I...I didn't change.  They didn't...know I was a vampire.  They were crazed and just kept hitting me until I got away."

Angelus nodded and rubbed his thumb across the back of the younger vampire's hand briefly, until Darla shouted for him to return to her.  He suffered her wrath for rescuing the troublesome vampire.

An hour later, Angel sat in the chair by the bed, reading.  He looked up every few minutes to see if Will had awakened.  He raised his head whenever the young man moaned.  When he reached over to touch his slender fingers, he found that they were hot.  He stood up and leaned over to touch Will's flushed face.  It was burning with fever.

Angel hurried into the kitchen for a basin and walked quickly to the bathroom to fill it with cool water.  He grabbed a small hand towel and returned to the bedroom.  Placing the basin on the bedside table, he sat at the edge of the bed and began to sponge Will with the cool water.  He heard a knock at the door and hurried to open it.  Mary stood there, her face white.  "Professor, we know it is a poison...but we...we don't know what kind.  We can give him antibiotics for infection, but..."

Angel swore his heart constricted as he stood aside to let her enter.  "Come in. I...I was afraid that there would be nothing to combat this demon blood.  It is not that well known in the United States, so no research has been done."

Mary administered some antibiotics.  "Call me...if...if you need anything.  Hopefully, they'll work until his body can fight back."  She smiled sadly and left.

Angel got fresh water and bathed Will's face and neck.  He stared helplessly at the young man; the young man who looked exactly like William...who had been William...and then Spike.  A thought suddenly forced its way into focus.  If I...If I make him a vampire he'll be okay.  Okay!  He'll be a demon...a soulless demon."  Angel was horrified that he had thought about turning the young man.  He sat in the chair and reached for Will's hand.  Suddenly, he began to writhe as if in agony.  He whispered in a raspy voice.  "Angelus...stop...stop..."

Angel stiffened and his dark eyes blurred with tears.  Will began to toss his head as he groaned softly.  He spoke softly in a raspy voice.  "So?  I get what I came for?  I passed, right? So you'll give me what I want.  Make me what I was.  So Buffy can get what she deserves."

Angel went rigid as soon as he heard Buffy's name.  This...this must be when he went to Africa for his soul.  Faith had told Angel that Spike had gone to Africa and suffered a series of trials to get his soul, apparently after he attempted to rape the slayer.  At first he was furious, but Faith had given him some insights about the mutual brutality of the relationship that she had learned about from Willow.

Will began to flail his head back and forth wildly on the pillow.  "No visitors today...Don't you think I'm trying?  I tried to cut it out!  Get these sodding things off me!  So that's it, innit?  Brought me here to kill me...wanted you to know that...before I kill you."

Tears poured down Will's flushed cheeks and he quieted for a while.  Angel had just dozed off, when the young man began to speak again.  "You're no more in control than I am.  Except I'm not gonna bloody stand for it.  Hurt Angel, that it?  You want me to hurt Angel?  You've come to the right ghost."

Angel thought about what Will had just said.  It must be his conversation with that necromancer...Hainsley.

Will's body stilled and he began to talk in a quiet, gentle voice.  "I know what's down there – where it's trying to take me – and it's not the place heroes go.  Not by a bloody long shot.  It's the other one.  Full of fire and torment.  And it's happening.  And I'm terrified.  Help me?"

A sob escaped from the usually stoic vampire.  He got onto the bed and leaned back on the headboard.  He carefully took the young man's suffering body into his arms.  Fred told me this.  I wasn't interested, but she told me anyway.  I didn't care.  I didn't care if Spike died.

Will's body began to tremble again.  Angel rubbed his back and whispered softly.  "Shhh, Will...Shhh, you're safe.  Don't be afraid...come back, Will...fight this...please fight this.  You can't die...again..."

The young man stopped shaking.  He turned his body slightly and rested his cheek in the crook of Angel's neck.  He licked the neck once, sighed and stilled.

Angel shuddered.  There were only a very few times that William gotten this close to him.  He drifted back into memory and remembered one evening when Darla and Drusilla had gone to Paris to shop.  He and William had spent the evening creating mayhem in the foggy London streets and then came back to the house.  They bathed and went upstairs to the huge bedroom that Angelus shared with Darla.  The older vampire lit the fire and they sat in front of it, passing the bottle of whiskey back and forth.  Angelus coaxed William to recite some of his poems and they eventually fell asleep on the floor in front of the fire.  Angelus woke in the night and William was pressed tightly to him.  His arm was slung across Angelus' waist and his cheek was nestled in the crook of the older vampire's neck.  Angelus had been startled but comforted by the closeness and fell back to sleep.

Angel continued to rub the young man's back, relishing the feeling of connection with another being...in truth, the comfort of holding the young man who looked so much like the vampire he lost so long ago in the alley.  He refused to consider all the reasons that it was wrong, until out of exhaustion, he too fell asleep.

TBC