Prologue

The doors of the elevator close and he slumps against the back wall and slowly slides down it until he's sitting on the floor. The fight with Angel has taken more out of him than he realised and his strength has flown. He's grateful for the late hour as the elevator reaches the parking level without the inconvenience of stopping to pick up anyone else sparing him the need for embarrassing explanation or pitying glances.

He forces his muscles to obey and levers himself to his feet and out of the elevator before the doors can close again. He slides his hand over his duster pocket and he can feel the not insubstantial wad of carefully folded bills that Fred gave to him. He was shocked when the petite brunette gave him the money with a kiss on the cheek and left without a word. He pulls it out and counts it, his eyes widening as he counts forty one hundred dollar bills. He considers going back up to Fred's office and returning at least a vast portion of the money to her but as he fans open the last bill a slender piece of paper falls out and he unfolds it.

"If it makes you feel better we'll call this a loan but to me it's a gift and I'd like you to accept it as one Spike. My cost of living expenses are covered by my contract with Wolfram & Hart and I have a generous allowance for sundries so I don't have much to spend my salary on and trust me this is only a small, very small fraction of my account and I'd like you to have it. It will make me feel good to know that at least some good has come out of working here so please take it." Spike reads aloud quietly. "I'm not sure if the others will have thought about your needs now that you're corporeal again but I'd feel better knowing you have options so please accept this, your friend Fred." Spike looks at the address and two phone numbers listed at the bottom of the note and he's touched that Fred would trust him that much.

He carefully refolds the note and the bills and slides it into his jeans pocket and he looks around the garage and realises that he has no idea where to go or what to do. He doesn't belong here but does he belong anywhere else? He knows that Buffy was lying for his benefit when she said that she loved him in the Hellmouth, a hero's send off. Drusilla will never take him back, he knows that while she may have overlooked the handicap of the chip she'd never overlook the perversity of his soul; Sire or not.
 
He leans weakly against a pillar, locking his legs to prevent sliding to the ground as he had in the elevator. If his past holds no refuge and his present holds no answers than maybe it's time to let go of both of them and find a new path. He looks down at the black leather that has been both his armour and his shroud and he knows what his first move must be if he's going to let everything go.

He slides the coat off and carefully cradles it across his forearms as he looks down at it. His nerves feel raw and exposed as though he'd removed his own skin and he smiles wryly to think that maybe that's what he has done. He looks around and spotting the Viper he walks over and sets the duster carefully across the hood. No one is crazy enough to touch Angel's favourite car; well other than him; so he knows that the coat will lie safely until Angel finds it.

He forces himself away from the Viper and looks at the other cars; he'll need one to get around since his precious DeSoto went up like a roman candle when Sunnydale imploded. He spots a racy looking SS350 Camero in mint condition. The deep red paint is the colour of freshly shed blood and he's sold. It takes him only a few moments to pick the door lock and only a minute longer to pop the hood and pull the anti-theft tracking device. He opens the door and sets it lightly on the passenger seat; he's got an idea of what to do with that bit of technological wizardry. A bit of rewiring and the car starts smoothly without causing any major damage to the cherry vehicle and he's rolling out of the Wolfram & Hart building a lot quieter than he entered it.
 

Chapter One

He glances towards the side of the road as another road sign passes advertising some small little town like the hundreds of others that have passed by his car windows. He's been on the road travelling for almost two months and he's crossed several states only to cross back and out again as he drives wherever takes his fancy along the back roads and small two or one lane highways that dot the landscape. The necro-tempered glass has turned the Camero into a rolling safe haven and he's seen his share of lovely sunrises and sunsets and quaint little towns you probably wouldn't find on any maps.

An enjoyable week long stop in Vegas was a pleasant diversion and a profitable one, as the four thousand Fred gave him was quickly seven hundred thousand by the end of his stay. He's always enjoyed the edge that being a Vampire has given in certain games of chance like Poker and Blackjack, where his senses afford him hints of everyone's hands. He's never seen anyone that's managed to hide their excitement at having a good hand physiologically even if they appear calm outwardly. Experience has allowed him to read and interpret such unconscious reactions and it only heightens the already superior empathy he seems to possess. There are few people that he can't read well and they are often the ones that are too busy lying to themselves to even know where their own heads are at. Before he left the state he stopped at a rest stop where several large interstate semi-trucks were parked for the night, including one of the large trailers loaded with cars awaiting delivery. It was a simple matter to climb up in the dead of night and pick the lock on one of the trunks and secret the anti-theft tracker module inside and get away without being seen.

He knows that if they did try to use it to find him, they'd be chasing after first the truck and then whomever had the car he'd hidden the tracker in and all the time he'd be safely anonymous somewhere else. He wondered if he should contact Fred and let her know he was safe but decided it would probably be better to wait for a while in case they were trying to find him.

He waited until he was in Louisiana enjoying the humid New Orleans night when he decided to finally use the phone numbers Fred had graciously given to him but regretfully he didn't get an answer from either. He decided to send his regards in another manner and took to the streets, searching for what he didn't know but when he'd found it he'd know.

It took him the better part of two nights to finally find what he was looking for as he entered the small back alley shop that was far from the paths travelled by the tourists. A grizzled old man looked up from a cluttered workbench with bits of metal and various bobs and gadgets used to make jewellery by hand. The shop is small almost tiny no larger than ten feet wide and fifteen feet deep. The majority of the floor space is taken up by the small work area and two long glass and wood display cases and smaller freestanding displays tucked here or there. The old man nods politely but makes no move to get off his tall stool, only turning around and adjusting the powerful light on his bench before resuming his exacting work.

He checked the display cases carefully searching through every tray, every display, and as fate would have it he finds what he's looking for in the last. It is a beautiful old-fashioned cameo in the traditional black ebony and white ivory style, fashioned into a delicate orchid design with a tiny hummingbird frozen in time in the act of feeding. The detail is amazing and the craftsmanship beyond compare and he knows that he's found what he's been looking for.

He taps his fingertips lightly on the glass and the shopkeeper finally leaves his exacting work, sliding off a pair of magnifying goggle and walking to meet him at the display case. Vertically slit green eyes meet fathomless azure as a quick exchange of words conveys his wishes.

The cameo is removed and set carefully onto a padded black velvet pillow as the artisan wields his not inconsiderable skill to weave an enchantment over the beautiful bit of jewellery. When the shop keeper motions a prick of a fingertip on a razor sharp fang provides the drops of blood his request requires and he presses the bleeding digit to the cameo. He hisses at the rush of heat and the swift sting of pain that shoots through his fingertip and up his arm as the shopkeeper presses down on his fingertip, completing the spell he's requested. The white parts of the cameo turn blood red for a moment before fading back to white and the shopkeeper removes his hand and nods to him and he removes his own. The shopkeeper lets his hand hover above the cameo but is careful not to touch it again and after a moment he nods in silent satisfaction.

The man leaves the cameo nestled on its velvet bed while he pulls out a tray of multicoloured ribbons, each carefully laid out and ironed to be wrinkle free. The artisan gestures towards the display silently and it takes him only a moment to choose a slender ribbon in a soft shade of tan that he knows will complement Fred's skin tones without being glaring yet neutral enough to not clash with what she's wearing. He carefully pulls the ribbon he's selected away from the others, his fingertips tracing lightly over the delicate lace edging and the artisan nods and smiles his approval.

It is his own hand that treads the cameo onto the ribbon and it is his hand that carefully places it into the protectively padded jeweller's box and closes it. Only once it's closed does the shopkeeper touch it, carefully placing it into a larger box that has been carefully padded before placing more packing material on top but he doesn't close the box. He turns and picks up something from his work area and turns to set it carefully on the display case.

It is an old-fashioned quill writing set complete with fine linen paper cards and a small pot of ink with a small rectangular wedge of red wax and a tiny oil lamp. He's enchanted, he hasn't seen anything like it since he was... human. He nods his appreciation and writes a small note to Fred in the graceful flowing script of his youth with all of its encompassing flourishes and whorls. He explains the gift and how to use it and thanks her for her friendship and consideration, assuring her that he is well. He hesitates only for a second before he signs the name 'William' to the bottom of the card. His human youth comes back to him in the skill of his hands as the card square is artfully folded into a intricately folded piece of artwork. He picks up the tiny lamp and angles its minute flame as he runs the wedge of sealing wax along it's pyre and soon a pool of it has dripped down to form a pool in the center of the folds. Setting both aside he watches carefully as the hot wax begins to cool and when it is almost set but still pliable he tips his hand over and presses the signet ring he always wears on his left ring finger into the cooling mass leaving a perfect impression behind.

When it is cool he tucks it into the box, he uses the quill to sign Fred's full name on the envelope and lays it atop the packing material. He folds the box closed after the artisan slips a clear sheet of acetate in last. He holds it closed as the shopkeeper tapes it closed securely and gestures towards the quill and then back to the box. It takes Spike only a moment to address the box and the shopkeeper carefully places a strip of clear packing tape over it so that it won't blur if the package should get damp. By the time he leaves the small shop his pocket is almost fifteen hundred dollars lighter but it is barely a fraction of what he owes Fred for helping him. He'll honour her wishes by keeping the money she's given him without trying to return it but the gift of her friendship is an obligation that he won't let pass without comment. He arranges for a courier to hand-deliver the gift as he leaves the city just in case they should try and track him down.

He criss-crosses a few more states before he finds himself once more on the west coast but he turns north away from California and stays to the lesser travelled smaller highways and roads. He stops for a time in Oregon but decides to move on, feeling slightly uneasy by the proliferation of 'morning people' over 'night hawks'. A state full of morning people... could there be a scarier sight?

He knows he's passed into Washington State and the scenery is lovely, full of green thriving woodlands and murky coastal towns where it seems little sunlight seems to fall. The early morning fog rolling off the sea is so thick that it is commonly well passed noon before the chillingly concealing vapour starts to evaporate and more than one day passes where it lingers throughout the day. It reminds him of the London of his youth and something shifts inside him and he knows that this is where he'll make his home. The decision is made just as the nose of the Camero dips over a hill and angles down the winding highway and he can see a moderately sized coastal town nestled a few miles from the shoreline. He sees a small scenic overlook and pulls over before reaching over and grabbing his map and guidebook. Fortunately it's almost an hour past twilight so he can safely get out of the car to spread the map across the hood of the Camero. He traces his route on the map and turns to that section of the guide.

"Hmmm the Quimper Peninsula, one of Washington's loveliest scenic and historical wonders, well-known for its predominantly Victorian atmosphere." Spike reads, pleasantly surprised. He skims over the rest of the entry. "Regular ferry service to Seattle available, placing all of the advantages of a big city close at hand without the worries of large city living. That doesn't sound... bad. It's close to civilization but probably less of the hazards but I wonder if I wouldn't stick out more in a small town?" He wonders out loud, turning to look over his shoulder as the sound of an engine reaches his sensitive ears. It's the first that he's heard in quite some time so it catches his attention. A range rover with the city seal of a county sheriff pulls up the highway and he groans when it turns into the small overlook and parks. The darkening night is little hindrance to his eyesight and he can see as clearly as though it were midday. His eyes widen slightly as the impressive looking form gracefully alights from the large vehicle.

He's tall well over six feet but sleekly muscled as opposed to being a hulking brute of a body builder type. He's very attractive his dark hair, eyes, and olive skin tones no doubt due to a drop or four of Indian blood he assumes at first. He attired simply in brown cowboy boots, well fitting tan jeans, a soft looking brown and tan pull over sweater and a hip length brown leather jacket. He doesn't see a badge or a cowboy hat anywhere but he doesn't need to see them to know that this is the Sheriff in this semi-isolated part of the State. As he approaches closer some details of his silent walk and other negligible factors have him reassessing the approaching young man.

He's within a few feet when he notices the unusual luminosity to his eyes, as though they were drawing in and catching the available light and his keen eyes spot the curve of a slightly pointed ear. Nothing that outwardly detracts from his appearance or that many would notice but then he's not many people.

"Having some car trouble?" The man's voice is husky with a low purring resonance that could easily be mistaken for a faintly foreign accent.

As he steps closer his steps falter slightly and his eyes widen and Spike watches as his hand flies reflexively towards his hip for a gun that isn't there and he smiles. It's nice to know that he can still intimidate some people!

"There's no need to get trigger happy, mate. You're in no danger from me." He says quietly, staying relaxed and keeping his hand in view. "Check the cooler on the front seat." He gestures towards the unlocked Camero. He smiles approvingly as the young man walks around to the opposite side and leans down and keeping one eye on him at all times, leans down and opens the ice chest and stares at bags of human blood marked as rejected and destroyed. "As I said I'm no danger to you."

The man looks relieved but confused as he closes the ice chest and straightens as he quietly closes the car door. "Well that's a little unusual, a Vampire that chooses to feed from donated blood. Did you break into a blood bank? I'd just love to explain this kind of bank robbing in my reports." The man asks with a dry wit.

"Money can buy a lot of things if the price is right. I don't feed from Humans, though the occasional Vampire may make the menu now and then, the bagged stuff suits my needs. It doesn't complain as much either." Spike says with a grin. "It seems I'm not the only unusual sight around these parts though. I haven't seen many Feryan Demons in this country, though from the looks of you, you're a quarter-blood." Spike notes, surprising the younger man. "I've met a few of your kind in Asia." Spike explains simply. "I doubt that even the most backwater town would elect a predator so I'm assuming you've found another way to feed here if you can arrest the transformation this close to the full moon."

"You seem to know a lot." The man says suspiciously. "There are areas where I can hunt safely without endangering any Humans and retreat to when I need to." He admits.

"I've been around for... a while. You tend to see a lot of things." Spike says enigmatically.

"You're a Master then?" The man says unsurprised.

"Since I was twenty years changed, I'm... older now..." He replies with a half grin. "...Significantly." He straightens from where he's leaning against the car and schools his features into a serious expression. "I'm looking for somewhere to settle down, am I going to have a problem with you?"

"If you break the law, yes but I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. Port Townsend is home to a small community of people like us but you're the first Vampire, the only one. I'm going to need some assurances before I can trust you." The man says with a brutal honesty that Spike can't help but respect. "I've got a spare room; you'll be staying with me until you've proven that you can be trusted."

"I'm sorry Pet but that's unacceptable." The man looks like he's going to argue. "That is unless you let me pay my share of the rent and what not of course." The young man can't hide his surprise. "I'm not looking for a place to hide, Pet. I'm looking for a place to live. My name is Spike." He holds out his hand towards the man, daring him to accept his handshake and his friendship.

"Gabriel Kane, pleased to meet you. Spike is a little unusual for a name. Are you going to need legal papers?" He asks curiously, shaking his hand. "I've helped some Demons get their papers."

Spike chuckles. "My name is William Faulkner but you can call me Spike. Money can buy a lot of things including any legal papers I may require. I have a friend that works for a... law firm. I've got what I need, Mr. Sheriff, Sir."

"Do you mind if I see an ID?" Gabriel asks with a grin. He leans over to look at the perfectly legal driver's license that Spike holds out. He grins and nods his thanks. "Well if I didn't know you were a Demon already, I would now." He grins at the confused look on Spike's face. "I've never seen a human that takes a license picture that looks that good." He says with a chuckle. "Well it doesn't say that your middle name is trouble but something tells me that it is."

Spike flips his wallet closed and slides it into his back pocket and shrugs. "I'm not looking for trouble and if any follows me here I can assure you that I'll deal with it." Spike says simply. "I'm not asking you to trust me or accept what I say; all I need is a chance to prove myself. Will you let me?"

"When my Grandparents came to this town, the people here gave them a chance pretty much on trust when the prudent thing would have been to ask them to move on. I guess it's time my family returned the favour. I have to ask though what makes you so different from other Vampires."

"I choose to be and the fact that I have a soul just makes it a little easier to choose to live contrary to my nature as a Demon. We're alike in that I imagine."

"A Vampire with a soul... that's unique." Gabriel says surprised.

Spike just shrugs. "It runs in the family." He says simply. "If I decide to stay here and you decide to trust me and let me stay, is there a nice place to build around here?"

"You're planning to build a house? Wouldn't it be simpler to rent or buy? There are some nice places around town."

"I've got some rather unique requirements in a home and it's just easier to build a home to suit me if I'm going to stay than it would be to adapt one to me."

"If things work out you're welcome to do what you like here. I was heading to my apartment so follow me and we'll get you settled in and you can tell me about what's brought you here." Gabriel turns on his heel and heads for his truck. He looks back at Spike and finds it difficult to turn his eyes away. He has the feeling that his life is about to get a lot more exciting.
 

Chapter Two

Spike looks out the front window of his hilltop home. He can see the lights of Port Townsend in the distance twinkling faintly through the evening fog. Positioned as his home is he can see well out into the bay and he can see the glint of silver moonlight from the full moon in the distance. The higher elevation saves them from the majority of the thick roiling fog and only a light hazy mist betrays its presence outside his window.

Looking back on his past it's hard to equate it with his life now. As Gabriel predicted, the people of Port Townsend did welcome him with an amazing degree of trust and warmth and for the first time, possibly ever, he found acceptance. His relationship with Gabriel evolved as well as they quickly became confidants and best friends. He was honoured to stand up with Gabriel as his best man at his wedding to a lovely young Vengeance Demon that reminded him a little of Anya.

The first year was a trial but it brought the greatest reward. Part of the money he'd accumulated went to the purchase of a lovely parcel of land that overlooked the town proper at Gabriel's suggestion. When it was time to plan his home he searched through every home plan magazine and resource he could find until he finally admitted defeat and hired an architect to help him design his own.

He was careful to reflect the both the town's Victorian architecture and the respect for the natural beauty of the forty acres of land on which his home would sit. He wanted to build his home to blend into the overall appearance of the town but with a minimum of disruption to the natural beauty around him and while it cost more, it was very important to him that where he lived reflected his own acceptance of his surroundings.

A fairly extensive finished basement would house the Master Suite, a large luxuriously appointed master bath, a combination library, study, and office, as well as a well appointed workout and training room. The access stairways were carefully concealed at his insistence and reinforced with solid steel core doors and struts hidden beneath wooden veneers. The main level was designed along more conventional lines though the exacting requirements for building materials remained. All of the glass is reinforced and necro-tempered and additionally strengthened by magical wards, thoughtfully provided by the surprisingly strong talents of the local coven.

The main level boasts another fully appointed master suite with adjoining master bath with a large walk-in closet. Three smaller but still spacious bedrooms share a large bathroom while a smaller bathroom just off the kitchen provides for guests. A large den, foyer, formal dining room, the kitchen; with its generous allotment of space for the professional grade cooking area and appliances and large walk-in pantry and breakfast nook; lie off the large of the great room near the center of the house.

Beyond the breakfast nook is the entry to a gorgeous all-season conservatory/sunroom that has been ingeniously designed. Hidden insulation, high-tech heated glass, and sliding panels can transform the room from a warm wooden-panelled conservatory to a crystalline prism of glass to form a beautiful sunroom or opened entirely to create a gorgeous covered patio. A second door leads off to a modern studio that in turn leads off to a large walk-in storage room and beyond that to the fully enclosed two-car garage with its attached storage room and a workshop complete with built-in tool benches and storage. A small hall leads to an outer door and to the covered and necro-tempered and reinforced glass and stone walkway that leads off to the enclosed, pool, spa, and gym that lies some distance from the main house.

Due to the often inhospitable weather, the house is extremely well-insulated and the entry, decks, and even part of the garden boast skylight topped covers and many of the main rooms, including the bedrooms, boast their own fireplace. It was a very expensive home to build and more than he thought that he'd need at first but it's the home he's always wanted and he could finally have.

Needing some connection to the past that didn't come with so much pain it'd need its own zip code, he tracked down his old friend Clem and it didn't take long for the loveable Demon to relocate to Port Townsend and one of his spare rooms. It seemed a natural decision to offer Gabriel the use of the upstairs master suite and he moved in as well not long after that. When his Father died, no one was surprised when he offered to help Gabriel's Mother Leticia to move into another of the spare bedrooms as he was unashamed of his fondness for the tough older Demon.

With some help from Letty and Gabriel he was able to invest his money wisely into several lucrative businesses in and around Port Townsend, like his silent partnership in 'The Belmont', Port Townsend's last remaining 1880's waterfront restaurant and saloon. The attached Belmont Hotel and adjacent Vienna Suites were popular choices for tourist accommodations and proved to be a very wise and profitable investment. He soon expanded his holdings with other silent partnerships like 'The Upstart' the combination art gallery, theatre, and restaurant that proved a very popular hangout for townies and tourists alike. He found that investing in already established businesses made excellent financial sense and with his monetary support they were soon thriving businesses and everyone was happy.

Now two years later his holdings include silent partnerships in several of the smaller and more specialized eateries and businesses in Port Townsend including a one or two of the local wineries and a partnership with the exclusive and exemplary supplies and paraphernalia shop run by the local Wiccan commune. His most profitable business was a growing real estate empire overseen by Letty's iron hand with Clem, Gabriel, and himself as silent partners. With her steel will and sharp mind Letty Kane was a force to be reckoned with in business matters and if someone underestimated her, they rarely did it a second time.

Though he was financially well off, boredom was one thing that he couldn't buy his way out of so when Gabriel asked him to lend his assistance on several cases, it was a welcome respite. No one in town was overly surprised when he just naturally fell into a job working alongside Gabe as Port Townsend's first and only deputized Detective. The real joy in his life though is singing, he enjoys playing some of the smaller venues around the area on the occasional night with little more than Gabriel, their guitars, and a friend or two for accompaniment.

Clem found his calling as a Ferry boat captain of all things and he currently runs a fleet of six refurbished and restored classic ferries that services the surrounding areas. His girlfriend Maria, is fiery Chinook Indian with a good head for business and an undeniable passion for the loveable lug and she keeps the business thriving.

He isn't startled by the strong arms closing around his waist from behind. "Are you ready to go Wil?" A quiet voice purrs from behind him as Gabriel pulls him back into an affectionate hug. "We told Deacon we'd meet him at the club at half past nine; we'll have to catch the seven pm ferry if we want to make it on time."

"Sure just let me check on Mum and I'll grab the guitars and meet you outside." He replies warmly, sighing happily as Gabriel tightens his arms in a pleasant squeeze before he lets go.

"Do you want to take the Camero or the Rover?" Gabriel asks eagerly, loping for the front door.

"Take the Rover; we always get a better parking space when they see you coming." He says and they share a chuckle.

Spike makes his way to the large den that is Letty's favourite room in the house and knocks quietly before entering. He smiles at the sight of the feisty older Demon holding court around a loaded card table surrounded by a group of chattering friends all of whom greet him fondly.

"We're going to head out Letty; did you need anything before we leave?" He asks warmly, rounding the table to press an affectionate kiss between the grey and white striped cat ears that just barely peek out of her silver streaked black hair. Letty's half Feryan heritage has left the distinctly feline characteristics typical of their species much more apparent than it is in her quarter-blooded son.

"We're fine, Sweetling but could you ask Clem if he can stop by the all-night bakery and pick us up some pastries on his way home?"

"I'll do that, Pretty Momma." He presses another fond kiss between her cute ears and straightens. "I'll set the alarm on my way out. Have a nice night ladies." He says warmly as he makes his way out of the room after running the gauntlet of fond hugs and playful gropes from her spirited poker buddies.

"You're one lucky bitch Letty; you get to live with the two most handsome men in Port Townsend and that sweetheart Clem. I hate you!"

"I keep hoping that bum son of mine would wise up and see what's under his nose but he's still hung up on that whippersnapper Deacon fellow. What he sees in that beanpole human I'll never know when he's got that yummy Vampire goodness living one floor down." Letty says in disgust.

He closes the door on that comment and chuckles. Letty's matchmaking efforts have been legendary, even though he knows that she secretly adores Deacon and approves of Gabriel's choice in a partner.

He stops by one of the hall closets and retrieves two guitar cases before heading for the front door. A quick pause to set the alarm and to lock the door and he runs lightly down the steps to the waiting Range Rover and Gabriel.
 

Chapter Three

The drive down to the city and through the quiet streets is a pleasant one for Spike as he tunes his guitar as Gabriel handles the driving with an easy skill. There are quite a few vehicles and passengers already lining up to board the docked ferry but Clem's deckhands are an efficient bunch and soon the cars are neatly loaded and the passengers have been guided onboard to the various passenger lounges. They're the last to board before departure and like many of the passengers they leave their truck for the warmth and camaraderie of the passenger lounges. Spike hands Gabriel his guitar case as the pair wave to one of the crew who ushers them through a roped off doorway with a smile.

"Hey there guys!" Clem welcomes them with a warm smile, the wheel of the ferry rock steady in his strong taloned hands. "You brought your guitars, great! Would you sing my favourite song for me?"

Spike smiles and pats Clem's shoulder. "It's the least we can do since you let us ride for free." He says affectionately. "We'll get set up in the forward lounge. Give us about ten minutes before you make the announcement Mate."

"Sure thing, Spike." Clem says perkily.

It takes them only a few moments to set up in a small corner of the largest lounge and they play some warm up songs that attract a quietly appreciative audience. After Clem uses the PA system to make the announcement of the impromptu live music, the lounge quietly fills with talk, laughter, and music.

Spike lets his mind drift, his hands and voice know what to do without direction from him. He glances over at Gabriel and smiles at his friend's joie de vivre, that nebulous quality that draws smiles from almost everyone he meets. Gabriel is the quintessential tall, dark, and handsome man but unlike some very attractive people, his insides are just as lovely as the outsides.

The simple dark brown suede boots, well-worn blue jeans, the simple elegance of a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled back to his elbows and a brown suede jacket are typical of Gabe's fashion sense. As he looks at him Spike has to admit that his style suits his simple and non-complicated lifestyle and that it makes him look imminently shag-able well that's just a bonus. He grew up in Port Townsend's sheltering grace and his simple regard for life, fashion, and the things that make him who he is all stem from that lucky upbringing.

He looks down at his own black leather boots and jeans, letting his eyes rove up his chest and the dark blue cashmere sweater that was a handmade gift from Letty. Beneath the luxurious knit is a simple sleeveless black t-shirt and everything is topped by a fairly new black leather aviator's jacket. He may not be living in a place where every night is a fight but he just can't stop dressing with that possibility in mind. You can take the fighter out of the city but not it seems out of his wardrobe. The flash of light catches his eye as his hand flutters along a complicated chord and he's glad that his singing has prevented the sigh wanting to escape from his throat.

The crest of the Aurelius Order winks back at him from the antique silver ring, placed on his finger by Angelus long ago as a mark of his pride at his young Masters-ship. He had yet to hear of any Vampire achieving it at an age younger than his own scant twenty years and as much as Angelus saw him as a rival; it was also a point of pride between them. He has changed his life in some remarkable ways but the ring that was the symbol of a lost Grand-Sire's pride; that is one thing he's chosen to keep from his past.

He smiles knowing that few people that knew him once would recognize him now. He's gained some weight in the form of increased muscle mass and he wears it well but the svelte and lithe lines of his body are little changed but Gabe and Deacon swear he looks good with the additional definition of the added muscle. His blatantly pale hair has given way to the reddish gold streaked tawny brown of his Human youth and he's let it grow out until it waves lightly at the top but the sides and back taper neatly in an expertly coiffed haircut that requires little maintenance on his part. The gothic edge he's sported for years has softened somewhat but the simply stylized Phoenix and Gryphon pendants strung on leather around his throat maintain hints of his past. Simple piercings in his eyebrow, left ear and belly button and the tongue in cheek tattoo of a Celtic cross in the small of his back are more recent additions. His mouth falls more easily into wickedly flirtatious smiles than arrogant smirks these days.

Perhaps the biggest changes are the ones that can't be seen with the naked eye though. The lithe and graceful power of his body has changed very little but the restlessness that refused to let him be still has faded to a large degree. The feeling that he's been searching for something or something that is missing or forgotten has also faded despite the constantly roving eyes that seem to be searching for something that they never find, he is content.

He knows he owes more than a little of his hard won focus and clarity to the calming influence of Letty and the meditation exercises she insists that her 'boys' practice every night. His fighting and physical skills are better than ever thanks to his daily training regiment with Gabriel, who while not quite as strong or invulnerable, is far more capable than a human sparring partner. They've taken the best of each other's styles and made it their own, incorporating it into their already formidable pool of skills. He has little doubt that Gabriel could take on a Slayer and not only hold his own but win with the skills and techniques he's learned from him. From Gabriel he's learned more than he has from any other single person in his life, his acrobatic skill, speed, endurance, and agility have increased due to his tutelage. It may be overkill for a relatively small town Sheriff and a part-time 'official' Detective but better to overkill than to be killed. Besides they've found use for their skills before on their outings to Seattle and some of the larger cities, making regular trips to do a little hunting and slaying of their own.

They play for the length of the ferry trip, thanking the passengers with a smile and a nod as several set some money down in one of the open guitar cases. They end the impromptu performance when they're ten minutes from dock to give everyone time to get ready to disembark.

Gabriel carefully collects the money and counts it with a smile. "Sixty-two dollars, not bad for a little ferry trip." He says pleased, carefully portioning out the money and arranging it by denomination and smoothing it out neatly as Spike kneels beside him to pack up his guitar for him. "Thanks, Wil. We've got enough to buy twelve rooms at the hostel."

"We'll drop it off at the shelter on the way to the Fenix, Maggie and Louis can distribute it however it'd be best spent I'm sure." Spike digs into his pocket and pulls out his wallet and adds a twenty dollar bill of his own with a self-conscious shrug as Gabriel grins at him. He hides his own smile as he watches his friend surreptiously slip in his own contribution.

Neither of them needs the money from their low-key concerts so they always find a way to donate it to people that do. Maybe with their help a few more people won't have to sleep out in the snow tonight and can have a hot meal and a safe place to rest.

 Gabriel rises gracefully to his feet and reaches down and easily lifts Spike to his feet. Neither of them thinks that there's anything strange about holding hands and heading back to the truck after a quick stop by the bridge to thank Clem for the ride.

Spike carefully stows their guitars in the back and hops into the passenger seat as Gabriel starts the car. Their timing is excellent as they're waiting only a couple of minutes before a crew member waves them forward and they smoothly disembark and head into the city.
 

Chapter Four

After a stop at a local homeless shelter to drop off their donation, they drive over to the club where they're meeting up with Gabriel's boyfriend Deacon and some of their friends. The Fenix Underground is one of the more popular clubs in town, featuring several levels and attractions all under one roof.

Spike glances at the dashboard clock. "We're half an hour early, want to go in or head over to the coffeehouse for a drink first?"

"I vote for the drink before I freeze solid." Gabriel says with a theatrically exaggerated shiver.

"Park the car before they mistake you for Harrison Ford and we get mobbed." Spike says dryly, rolling his eyes as Gabe grins.

While the nightclub is very popular the mid-winter weather has no doubt driven some to stay inside and they find a parking space easily. Spike hops out and goes around back and carefully covers their guitar cases with a thick thermal blanket before Gabriel locks the truck and activates the alarm. Spike starts down the sidewalk, not alarmed as his friend jogs up beside him to lay an arm across his shoulders and squeeze him affectionately. Spike slips his arm around Gabriel's waist as they walk towards a busy coffeehouse a block down, talking quietly.

It was Gabe's willingness to reach out to him, to want to touch him affectionately, and his unabashed enjoyment at the simple pleasures to be had in his company that first broke through the arrogantly brash manner that was his defence against the world. Unknown to Letty; or perhaps not, she is a shrewd old lady; he did have a brief relationship with Gabriel and later even a night or two with Gabriel and Deacon but as much as he cares for his dear friend there is a part of him that only two people have honestly touched. While the marks of those fleeting nights still surface in their ease together and the strength of the connection between them, they are content in their friendship.

The coffeehouse is packed to the rafters with patrons eager to take shelter from the cold winter night and partake of the cornucopia of beverages they offer. Spike pauses just inside his instincts prickling the back of his neck and his keen eyes sweep over the customers. He doesn't see anything amiss other than a few Demons here or there but they seem peaceful enough but he can't get over the niggling feeling at the base of his spine that there's something right at the edge of his senses that's eluding him.

"Are you alright?" Gabriel asks quietly, noticing his best friend's preoccupation.

"Let's get the drinks and head back to the club." Spike says quietly, his eyes still roving restlessly over the crowded shop's patrons. He doesn't want to look like a paranoid loser feeling jumpy about shadowy 'feelings'.

"Sure, that suits me, it's a little too crowded in here tonight anyway." Gabriel agrees, tightening his arm around his shorter friend and pulling him closer. He doesn't need Spike to tell him he feels uneasy when he can clearly see that he is and feel it in how he leans his weight into his side.

They move into the order line and wait the tense few minutes to work their way up to the counter.

"I'll have a large double cocoa, half milk chocolate and half bittersweet with a splash of Hazelnut creamer and nuts instead of the caramel swirl on my whip cream please." Spike orders his usual.

"I'll have the same but I'll have the caramel swirl instead of the nuts and we'll take a double Mocha fully loaded with the works too." Gabriel orders. "If we don't bring one for Deacon he'll attack us for ours." He says with a grin, giving Spike a vexed look as he pays for their drinks before he has a chance. "Smooth but I'm getting the cover charge at the club then." He says implacably. "Deacon can buy the food." He winks saucily.

"We'd better hope that Paul decided to stay home then or Deacon's going home broke." Spike replies with a snicker that has Gabriel chuckling and aiming a playful swipe at the back of his head.

They pick up their drinks and start to head for the door and their eyes widen at the long line of people and the possibilities of wading through them without spilling.

"I don't suppose you could... ya know... go all growl'y and get us through the crowd...?" Gabriel asks with a grin.

"Pet, I think at least a quarter of this crowd will growl back." Spike says with a shake of his head. He spies an opening through the crowd and dives through reaching the door with dramatic flourish and a laugh while Gabriel scowls and swears at him good naturedly.

"You're a pain in the ass Spike!" Gabriel calls out playfully as he muscles his way through the crowd and out onto the street.

"Don't blame me for the fact you're taller than some buildings, Pet!" Spike calls back cheering on his beleaguered friend. "Could you get a move on King Kong, I wanna dance!?!"

"We can't all be the size of a flea or a tick!" Gabriel jokes back.

"Ohhh Pet you're making blood sucking references, oh be still my heart!" Spike moans theatrically, clutching his chest and pantomiming at being a love-struck suitor. He darts down the street as Gabriel finally fights his way through the crowd and growls menacingly, chasing after his wildly laughing friend.

Neither notices the dark eyes staring after them with laser-like focus as a muscular form starts to swim through the crowd in pursuit, reaching out and grabbing a confused man from the order line and dragging him along.
 

Chapter Five

Wesley stares at the silent presence at his side and he shivers but he's not sure if it's from the cold or the deadly gleam in Angel's golden chocolate eyes. They've been standing in this abominable line for over an hour, surrounded by people of all ages and in all manners of outrageous costumes and outfits. It seems that every time he looks around someone more outrageous and outlandish has appeared. The bouncers patrol the line endlessly, occasionally pulling out a familiar face or twelve and sending them to the door, 'regulars' no doubt. He huddles into his jacket, cursing the thin, ineffectual nylon and tries not to feel like the last man chosen for a rugby team and the boobie prize for whatever team gets stuck with him as they're passed over time and again.

"Angel, no offence but what in the bloody hell are we doing standing in line for this monstrosity? Our plane is supposed to leave in another hour and it will take us that long to stop by the hotel, get our things, and get to the airport. We've got the Pendaric Chronicles that we came for, let's go home."

"I told you Wes, we're not leaving until I know." Angel says flatly.

"It's been two years Angel, what does it matter if that was Spike or not? You wanted him to go remember?" Wesley points out.

"I'm not leaving here until I find out if that was Spike or not, Wes so drop it." Angel growls.

"You're friends of Spike?" Their conversation has caught the ear of one of the patrolling doormen.

Angel and Wes turn their heads to look at one of the doormen/bouncers that have been walking the line, keeping things orderly.

"Yes we're very, very old friends." Angel says putting on his most charming and intimidating manners. "We've known each other just for ages." He stresses the inflections hoping that the man will pick up on his hidden meaning and understand it, if he knows Spike.

The beefy bruiser of a man looks at them carefully and nods as though he's decided something and he unclips the velvet ropes. "Come with me." He gestures for them to leave the line and follow him towards the front door. "This is a no feed zone, keep your fangs to yourself and you won't have any trouble with security. The bar is set up to service your... kind... so just ask for the house red and they'll know what you're talking about." The man quietly intones, keeping his voice low and circumspect.

The man leads them to the head of the line and motions to his co-worker manning the door. "These guys are friends of Spike's Dozer. Let em in."

The mountain of flesh that makes up a man nods and opens the door waving them through. "Go through the doorway on the left for the box office unless you have one of our V.I.P. passes in which case you can go straight in." The massive man rumbles and they can see why he's got the nickname that he does.

Angel grabs Wes; who's frozen in place staring up at the massively built bouncer with his mouth open; and pulls him inside shoving him not too gently to the left.

"I can't believe this... next time I want a coffee just say no!" Wes mutters as Angel manhandles him with no little roughness. "We don't even know that it was him!"

"We're not going to find out for sure either at this rate!" Angel's lips curls into a snarl and he strides for the ticket windows. The dark expression on his face manages to get them to the head of the line fairly quickly as several very wise people quickly change lines to get out of his way.

"Welcome to the Fenix gentlemen, first visit?" A neatly dressed young man greets them from behind the glass and iron cage of the ticket office.

"It most certainly is." Wes mutters, looking around at the flashy dance club/live music venue. It's almost enough to make him wish he was still outside in the cold.

"Well, you're here on a good night, the Misfits are playing tonight. Tickets are forty dollars for all venues and that includes two free drinks and appetizer for each of you as well as entrance to all venues."

Angel pays the man while Wes grumbles over the outrageous price and they obligingly follow the man's instructions and put their right hands under the slot. Slender wristbands are skilfully set in place with the economy of motion that only comes from a lot of repetition.

"If you'll follow the hallway around to the right, you'll have to check your coats and pass through the metal detectors and the doors at the end will take you into the club. Have a nice time." The man says with a sunny smile.

Angel strides off with a whish of his knee length leather coat and a great white shark on the hunt could hardly looking any more intimidating than the powerful Vampire in that moment.

 Wesley follows him still muttering darkly about this fool's errand. Ever since the realisation that Spike had left LA, Angel has been hell to live with and since it's been almost two years, that's a lot of hell. They've all felt the stinging reality of dealing with an Angel gone madly furious. Lorne was the first to go, deciding to leave LA and open a lounge in Las Vegas. Harmony just vanished one day and to this day rumours persist that her departure wasn't one of her choosing but facilitated at the end of a stake wielded by Angel. Gunn just drifted deeper into his role as Wolfram & Hart's top legal eagle and his burgeoning relationship with Eve just seemed to be the last nail in the coffin. Gradually friendship gave way to semi-cordial co-workers as no one really trusted Gunn's motives once he chose to get involved with Eve. Soon even the stalwart loyalty of Fred is going to falter and she'll join the exodus and it won't be long after that when even his phenomenal patience is at an end and he'll leave too. Who could have foreseen the effect that Spike's departure would have on Angel and through him all of them as well? He finds that he's half hopeful that they will find the fiery younger Vampire on this fool's journey. Wesley is snapped out of his reverie by the simple mechanism of ploughing into Angel's back and bouncing off to land sprawled on the floor.

Wesley curses foully and scrambles to his feet, shooting some black looks at some of the laughing looks aimed at him and steps around Angel and stares. The multi-level dance floor is wall to wall motion as a sea of dancing bodies forms a barrier that not even Moses would find easy to part and impeding their progress to the other side.

"We could just walk around...." Wes says turning to glance at Angel but his voice trails off as he stares at Angel who is staring out into the crowd with a fixed expression that sends shivers down his spine. The only time he's seen a look even half that dark, it was right before some unfortunate Demon ends up dead... probably in little pieces. He follows his eyes to a table across the way and finds that he's staring a very shapely leather clad rear.

The man is leaning over the back of one of the booth seats, and the pants leave no doubt that it's a male, talking to several of the animated patrons sharing the table. He's swaying to the beat of the music, dancing in place in a display as enthralling as any hypnotist's pendulum. A glass of red wine bumps loosely against one thigh, held securely from the top in one strong hand as the other waves, gesticulating wildly on some point energetically as the people at the table laugh.

Wes leans forward straining to get a closer look, he may not have a Vampire's superior eye sight but even he can see that the man Angel has his attention riveted on has darker hair and is more muscular than Spike is. "Who is he; do you know him?"

Angel doesn't answer, his voice lost to the millimetre by millimetre perusal of his Grand-childe. There isn't a single doubt in his mind, changes aside, that he's looking at Spike... his Spike. His eyes narrow as the good looking man from the coffeehouse jogs up the steps from the dance floor his arm wrapped around another man whose chest is heaving with exertion. The other man collapses weakly into the booth amidst laughter and friendly back slaps, while the ape leans over the booth mimicking Spike's posture and looking entirely too chummy for his peace of mind. Spike's never really been known for his sterling taste in companions, the last ones having left him to incinerate in the Hellmouth alone.

 As he's watching the tall ape from the coffeehouse straightens and notions toward the dance floor but the man that collapsed into the booth starts laughing and throwing his arms up to wave his hand as though warding off some evil influence, shaking his head wildly. He watches as Spike straightens and leans over to set the wine glass in his hand on the table, pulling the already form-fitting leather even tighter to his shapely lower body.

Angel inhales sharply as he turns partially into profile, his palms sweeping down his chest to catch the edge of the soft looking sweater and stripping it up over his head in a single graceful movement. The tight sleeveless black t-shirt is so tight you can see the ripples of his washboard stomach in the waves of the fabric. The hem rises, caught by the sweater and flashes the glint of gold that is threaded through his concave belly button for a few seconds before he sets the sweater aside. His eyes trace the path of a palm as it slides low over his belly and under the waistband of the belted leather pants, neatly tucking the shirt back in. He starts through the throng of people before he realises what he's doing, feeling Wesley scrambling to follow in the wake he's creating as he cleaves through the crowd.

Before they're even halfway there Spike is stalking away from them towards the dance floor, his movements fluidly graceful and full of slow intent as he moves one muscle group at a time in a sinuous ballet. The ocean of motion parts and he is swallowed in the tide of humanity.

Angel drives towards the railing that marks the boundaries of the sunken lower level dance floor, his eyes locked on his quarry. It's little surprise that the crowd of dancers parts and allows Spike entrance to their ranks, an army of hands reaching out to touch or make futile grabs in passing. It has always been that way with Spike. His uncanny ability to change and adapt to his circumstances sees him gaining his entry to even the tightest of social circles with alacrity unmatched by any other person he's ever known. People are drawn to the charismatic Master Vampire hummingbirds to nectar rich blooms, flitting around him in an endless fluttering of colourful wings, all wanting to taste his energy and gorge on his presence and take in something of him into themselves. He has always been the most 'Human' of his Childer so is it any wonder that he should be the one that he understands the least? Humanity eluded him even when he was Human and as a Vampire it is all the more alien. He's done things with his soul that Spike wouldn't have done without his and perhaps that is the true reason they've never gotten along. There was a lot of truth in what Spike said when they were fighting for a worthless cup of Mountain Dew. He is the mirror that he finds it painful to look into and is it little wonder that he turns his eyes from the reflection when all it shows is what is lacking in him?

He tracks Spike into the center of the crowd and he's not surprised to see he's eluded the grasping hands and he's swaying in a world of his own as a new song starts to play. Hands reach out and a few bold souls try to pull Spike into their gyrations but he eludes them all with easy skill. It's like watching a choreographed fight set to music and it's not long before the dancers get the hint and a circle of empty space surrounds Spike's solo dancing form. He is boneless grace wrapped in fluid sin and slowly the circle widens until it looks like Spike is dancing in a bubble of holy space that no one dares to trespass on...

...Until someone does.

Angel's hands clench over the railing, the metal deforming under the pressure.
 

Chapter Six

The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
I never dreamed that I'd meet somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I knew somebody like you.

Spike sighs as his eyes slip closed enjoying the silken slide of leather over his legs as he sways into the song. It's always been one of his favourites the slow hypnotic beat and husky vocals touching his core with liquid heat. He drops his shoulder, dipping his hips into the rhythm until his whole body is moving to the music. He doesn't need eyes to see or ears to hear, he can feel the music and he opens himself to it, inviting it in to work its will through his body. He's jostled by pushy hands but he's too deep into the music to care and he barely notices when the disruptive presence is gone.

His hands slowly up his thighs, flexing lightly against the rippling muscles as he draws his palms up his body, meandering slowly over twitching stomach muscles and over his pillow-soft cotton T-shirt. Upward his rising and falling chest, his palms turning outward as they leave the soft cotton for favour of silken skin as he draws the back of his fingertips up over his face until his arms are over his head.

 No, I don't want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I don't want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
With you. With you. (This world is only gonna break your heart)

He feels the presence at his back seconds before his hands are caught in a steel embrace and brought down to cross over his chest as he's pulled back against a powerful body. Muscles melt together as the powerful man pulls him back hard so hard he's lifted off his feet momentarily as the curve of his body are pulled into an insistent throbbing hardness.

He settles lightly onto the balls of his feet as his unseen partner rocks them down towards the floor and slowly back up, keeping them pressed tightly together. One arm is thrown over his shoulder and across his chest, a powerful hand resting low on his belly as its twin roams restlessly from his hip to his thigh forcing him into the motions of his partner and locking them into a synergy of motion.

 What a wicked game to play, to make me feel this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to let me dream of you.
What a wicked thing to say, you never felt this way.
What a wicked thing to do, to make me dream of you and,

I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
With you.

Spike inhales deeply drawing the scent of his partner deeply, he doesn't need his eyes to know who is holding him and moving them in the eldritch power of the dance. The lips grazing his nape and nibbling lightly on his ear are as familiar to him as breathing is to a Human. He has more senses to enjoy than could be dreamt of in their limited philosophies and experiences. The body rocking into his own is no stranger despite the rarity of its sharing his body remembers it well and rises to meet its demands.

His arms drift up and back to sink into a lush pelt of hair, the thick strands curling around his fingers as tightly as the arms coiling around his body. He shivers at the heat rising low in his belly and flushing through his veins until it feels like every nerve is enflamed and throbbing to a non-existent heart beat. It is the magic of the dance and the alchemy of emotions.

 The world was on fire and no one could save me but you.
It's strange what desire will make foolish people do.
I never dreamed that I'd love somebody like you.
And I never dreamed that I'd lose somebody like you no,

No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I want to fall in love. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
With you. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
With you. (This world is only gonna break your heart)
No, I... (This world is only gonna break your heart)
(This world is only gonna break your heart)

As the arms tighten and suddenly pivots spinning him around and catching him up against a powerful body, he doesn't fight flowing into the strength so easily holding him aloft and swaying him into a dip. Spike relaxes against the supportive hand in the small of his back and he arches gracefully as poised as any gymnast, bending until his hair almost sweeps the floor. His leg lifts and locks around a thigh, his belief in his still unseen partner's strength is absolute as he trusts him to support them both. His palms drift over powerful shoulders to sink lightly into muscle corded biceps as he is slowly lifted to his feet and gently set down. Fiery arctic blue eyes meet soulful brown as his thickly lashed eyelids sweep up and a wickedly welcoming smile curves his full lips upward.

 Nobody loves no one.

Bodies melt together and freeze, lips barely brushing for a heartbeat before they slowly lean in unison and close the all-but nonexistent distance to zero.

Spike curls his arms around a powerful neck as he's lifted off his feet as his tongue sweeps into the honeyed recesses of a welcoming mouth in a slow deep kiss. He sighs as the applause of the crowd breaks the moment and Gabriel carefully sets him down before taking his hand and leading them back to the table, neither of them caring about or noticing the dark presence shadowing them.
 

Chapter Seven

Deacon watches the pair return with an enigmatic expression on his face and his friend Paul glances at him nervously.

"God doesn't that... I dunno... bother... you to see that?" Paul asks nosily.

Deacon doesn't answer that as the pair returns to the table, merely quirking his finger at the pair and holds his hand out. To Paul's surprise it isn't Gabriel that answers the commanding summons as he slips into the booth beside Deacon without a word, only a sensual smile and sweep of his tongue across his lower lip. It's Spike's hand that slips into Deacon's and it's his body that's pulled to lay across their laps and his mouth that Deacon sweeps into like an invader at Normandy.

"Ok I guess it doesn't bother you that much." Paul says snidely, snickering at the carnal display and reaching under the table to adjust his jeans with what he hopes is a surreptiously nonchalant manoeuvre.

Spike licks his lips with a wicked grin as Deacon releases his mouth, catching a drop of saliva running down the corner of his mouth and licking it from his fingertip. He slides over to rest his back in the corner of the booth, letting his legs stay draped over Deacon and Gabriel's laps as he accepts his wine glass back from Paul with a nod of thanks. He reclines with a sigh like a indolent lion after a feast and sips his drink with a distinctly lascivious flourish.

"Is there some news that three of you would like to share?" Paul asks cagily, shooting them an amused grin. "You all back on again or you still off?"

"If you were the meat in this sandwich...." Deacon lifts his hands to trace Gabriel's face and Spike's leather clad legs. "...You'd see the appeal of getting... off. If that was some bizarre way of asking if we're dating again then no it's still Gabriel for me. Spike's just a welcome treat now and then."

"You know you three are really kind of strange. You don't mind if the hotter than hell man you love lives with the walking advertisement for spontaneous pregnancy as long as you get a little taste now and then. I wish my ex was that tolerant, I hear she's got herself a fine looking new roommate." Paul jokes and they all chuckle.

Spike takes a sip of his blood laced wine as his chuckles die down and stiffens as the same feeling from the coffeehouse earlier returns to prick at his instincts. He looks around but can't see much through the sea of people but it's enough to snap him out of his lethargy and he looks around with casual observance. He tries to relax as he fails to spot any trouble but something coils deep inside him and he can feel his Demon stirring to wakefulness.

Spike draws his legs up and crouches on the faux leather upholstery of the seat and rolls over the back of the booth in an agile move a cat would be hard pressed to recreate, gaining his feet.

"I think I'm going to take a little walk and work off some... tension. I'll meet you at the truck in two hours?" Spike says in a low voice, causing Gabriel and Deacon to straighten up, all levity washed from their faces as they start looking around suspiciously.

"Is there something wrong?" Deacon asks trying to spot trouble but not seeing anything.

"Is it something that we should be calling security for?" Gabriel asks quietly, reaching over the table and snagging Spike's sweater, handing it to him.

"I think something is hunting in here, I'm going to see if I can find it first." Spike says quietly. "I can handle it; you guys stay here and have some fun. I feel like doing some more dancing." Spike cracks his knuckles with a dangerous smile. He slips his sweater over his head and smoothes it into place with sweeps of his palms. "I love the smell of wood in the evening." He says pursing his lips as his friends snicker at the mangled movie quote as Spike slips into the shadows and is soon lost from sight.

Angel watches from the shadows of a pillar and shoves his phone at Wesley. "Find out who they are." He orders in a growl as he plunges into the crowd in the direction that Spike went.

Wesley flips over the phone and sees that Angel has taken several photos, the images currently stored in his phone's memory. "Wouldn't it just be easier to go ask them?" He mutters turning and cursing as he realises he has no bloody clue where the exit is and he stomps off mumbling darkly about Angel's dubious parentage.
 

Chapter Eight

Spike slips out of the club silently and plunging into the shadows of a deepening night and heading for the truck as he folds his jacket over his arm. He pulls his keys from his pocket and finds the small remote for the truck and deactivates the alarm, pressing a second button to unlock the truck and a third to unlock a lock box in the back. He ignores the prickling of awareness on the back of his neck, he knows he's being followed but his quarry is very good at shadowing him, staying just beyond the range of his senses. He opens the rear tailgate and opens the secure compartment, revealing a surprising array of weaponry both modern and... specialized.

Spike sets his coat down and slips out of his sweater and folding it neatly before setting it aside on the tailgate; it was a handmade gift from Letty and it has too much sentimental value to risk getting messed up. Spike leans over the tailgate and pulls out a pair of matched Silver daggers, running his thumb lightly along the double edges to check the sharpness and nods satisfied. He kneels and lifts his right pant leg and grabbing one of the daggers he thrusts it into a concealed sheathe built into his boots. He repeats with his other leg before smoothing down the leather pant legs. He pulls out a compartmentalized belt similar to the type used by the military and he buckles it around himself and it settles down on his hips below his waist. He adjusts it briefly so that it rides comfortably and opens the pockets and checking inside and nodding in satisfaction. He spreads his coat open and pulls out several carved wooded stakes and slips them into loops sewn into the lining of the jacket, one in the back and two sitting side by side on each side of the front closure.

A familiar scent tickles his sensitive nose and he smiles as a powerful arm reaches past him to pick up two stakes and Spike turns his face to meet Gabriel's nuzzle as the larger man rubs his cheek affectionately with chin.

"What took you so long?" Spike asks with a chuckle that turns into outright laughter as Gabriel cuffs the back of his head playfully.

"It wasn't easy to convince Deacon to stay with Paul, he wanted to come too." Gabriel shrugs with a grin. "We couldn't all leave though, Paul would have been suspicious and since he doesn't know about our nocturnal leanings... one of us had to stay behind. Deacon is learning a lot from us but he's not ready to take up slaying as a full time hobby; maybe one night soon but not tonight." Gabriel selects his armaments while Spike slips into his jacket and leans against the tailgate. "What are we hunting tonight anyway? I haven't seen you looked so spooked in a long time, something has really been getting your back up tonight, ever since the coffeehouse."

Spike chuckles and shakes his head. "Nice reference Cat-Man and I don't know what has my 'back up' but I rather suspect we're the hunted rather than the hunter tonight. Clever bastard whoever they are and they have to know what I am, they're staying just out of range and I can't get a definite bead on whatever it is but I know it's there. It feels like bees crawling over my skin and stinging me occasionally."

Gabriel shudders comically. "Ewww, bees, I hate bees. I hope it's not a huge demonic bee."

Spike chuckles again and steps away from the tailgate as Gabriel locks the truck back up and trips the alarm again. "All the things we've seen, fought, and killed and you're scared of bees." Spike snickers as he walks down the street. "Don't worry, pet, if it's a demonic bee I'll hold it off while you run to a shop and get an economy-sized can of ©Raid."

"Oh that's very funny, Wil!" Gabriel follows Spike down a small access alley between the club and the dry cleaners next door and within minutes they've left the hustle and bustle of the busy Seattle streets and entered another world. "Seriously... there isn't any such thing as Demon Bees right?" Gabriel asks with a nervous chuckle. "Wil; Wil are you listening? There isn't right; Wil?" Gabriel stares at Spike's back as they shake in silent laughter and he jogs up to keep pace at Spike's shoulder, looking around with a furtive expression.

It is a world that exists alongside our own but one that couldn't be more different as they enter the warrens of back alleys and shadowed entrances to the underworld of the city. Here in this place the rules of society cease to function and the conventions of civilization fall away. Whether you've gotten that new promotion, your child is failing English or your yawn is being overrun with Crabgrass falls to inconsequence. In this place survival is the rule that matters and here only the fittest can make it for long. It is a jungle in the heart of the city and its predators as deadly as any in the world.

They're well into the labyrinth of crisscrossed alleys; trash strewn thoroughfares, and crumbling humanity, moving quickly and quietly. The dust of several Vampires already dull their clothes in scattered spots but the night is pretty quiet as though word that the hunters are out has spread through the discarded population like wildfire. The burgeoning sky finally reaches its breaking point and the first flurry of newly falling snow begins to appear.

Buffeted by the developing storm the wind shifts direction abruptly and Spike freezes in mid-step his muscles freezing and locking. He slowly lets his foot continue its fall to land lightly on the ground and he pivots to face the direction they've come from.

"Gabriel go back to the Club and check on Deacon and Paul, now." Spike's voice is low and soft but the thread of command is clear.

Gabriel doesn't stop to argue but leaps and easily clears the twelve foot distance to the raised ladder of a fire escape and climbs up. "Spike...." He pauses and looks down worriedly.

"Go Gabriel, you can't help me with this." Spike orders but softens the tone with an affectionate glance. "I'll be along when I'm done."

Gabriel gives in and starts to climb, he can make better time going over the rooftops, eager to get back to make sure Deacon and Paul are alright. "You have half an hour Wil." His voice drifts back down.

Spike glances up and watches the darting form until it's out of sight before returning his gaze to the street. "So you want to play games do you? Let's dance."

Spike turns on his heel and streaks down the street, leaping and catching the edge of a fence and deflecting his trajectory to land lightly on the other side with little slowing of his momentum as he streaks into the darkness. He grins at the sound of the violently rattling fence and the flurry of cursing as he taps into a formidable core of speed and agility to outrun his pursuer. He leads a merry chase for several miles before he slows and leaps up onto the concrete rise of a loading dock and ducks into an open bay and out of the increasing snowfall. The warehouse is quietly deserted, the empty room obviously recently cleared and the doors left open to air the bay before the next shipment. He jogs over to the metal staircase that leads up to the catwalk and climbs up a few of the treads and stretches out to wait.

He's somewhat impressed when he doesn't have to wait long before a powerfully built form explodes through the gaping maw of the bay and skids to a stop, looking around. He rises gracefully, slipping his coat off and setting it on the stairs before kneeling and pulling the daggers from their concealed sheathes and setting it on top of his jacket. He won't need weapons for this.

"A bit far from LA aren't you Peaches?" Spike's voice is a husky combination of a purr and a growl as he stalks forward, his weight distributed on the balls of his feet. "There are better ways to go sightseeing if you're interested in seeing the town." His nose twitches as the familiar scent fills his lungs. No one on the planet smells like his Grand-sire. The faint scent of moss with the slight tang of salt air with an undertone of heather, very faint but distinct, underlying the stronger scents of a sharply clean smelling aftershave, blood, age, and power.

Spike circles Angel slowly, just out of range of his long arms, his muscles tense and ready, and his eyes watchful. "What are you doing following me around Seattle, Angel?"

Angel watches Spike warily, marvelling at the changes in him. "Wesley needed some book that he couldn't live without, he asked me to come along. I certainly never expected to find you here, Spike." Angel replies honestly. "Curiosity got the better of me so I followed you. Still playing the hero I see but the sidekick is a new twist. Who is he Spike? I saw that jump he made; no human could have made it."

"It doesn't matter who he is, Peaches. You'll be gone soon enough and it won't matter then will it? I've been a good boy Grandpa; you don't have to worry about your precious humans, they're safe."

Angel darts forward, his hand flying out and closing around Spike's throat and lifting him off his feet and holding him several inches off his feet. "Watch your tongue with me Lad. You've forgotten your place, boy."

The last word is driven out of him on an explosion of air as Spike's boot drives into his abdomen forcing him to drop him and letting him spring backward out of range and landing in a crouch.

"I'll ask you again Angel, why are you following me and I suggest you answer me before I decide to stop asking you what I want to know and this gets... physical." Spike stands smoothly, his hands sliding up his thighs to brace his hips in silence defiance. The pose causes the muscles in his well-developed form to ripple under his silken skin and painted on t-shirt.

"You left LA without a word and to my knowledge with nothing but the car you've stolen from me, colour me curious as to what you think you're up to. You were living, though I use the term loosely, in my Lair Spike, you know what that means. You left without my permission."

Spike looks amused. "Don't even bother to use that Sire's Rights argument with me. Firstly it wasn't my choice to get stuck in that bloody office building. I couldn't leave without getting yanked right back like a dog on the bloody leash if you recall. You can hardly claim that I invoked Childer's Rights therefore I am not bound by it. Secondly, you told me several times to leave, don't bitch when I finally *do*."

Spike starts to slowly circle Angel as he stands fuming. "You gave up your Sire's Rights to your Childer one by one, why cry now that you can't control us... those of us left that is. You stood by and let Penn be destroyed and I hear that Lawson paid Daddy a visit and got swept up in a vacuum for his trouble. You left me crippled both physically and later with the chip those bastards in the Initiative drilled into my brain. Drusilla mentioned she found your hospitality a little too hot to handle after you set her on fire. Not to mention having the dust of your Sire on your hand over a SLAYER. I understood she was my little sister and part of your little experiment in Vampire Flambé too. So shall we count then Peaches? Your Childer Penn and Lawson, your Sire once, attempted destruction of your Childe Drusilla and Grand-childer Darla and of course me. You systematically managed to destroy every member of the family that was left, bravo." Spike growls, looking pleased as Angel winces and looks ashamed for the few seconds it takes him to steel his features into an imposing mask of unemotional stoicism.

His features soften only briefly as they look at his once proud Sire. "I do understand Angel, in a way that I never could before I fought for my soul. It wasn't your fault that we did the things that we did you know? You didn't create us Angel; Angelus did, if anyone is responsible for what we've done it was him not you. Wes told me all about your shiny prophecy of being a real boy, Pinocchio and I have to honestly say that I don't understand why you feel the need. You're more human than you are Vampire."

"What would you know about it Spike?" Angel snarls swiping the air with a massive clawed hand that Spike cagily dodges with an agile side step and a smile. "You can't presume to tell me you have any idea what I feel." Angel denies with a growl of vexation.

"If not I then who Angel; you know very many souled Vampires do you?" Spike asks seriously, his eyes glinting dangerously. "I am the only one in the world that can understand, don't you get that? Only I have to say I think I've managed it a bit better than you have, this whole having a soul business." Spike says sounding absurdly proud of the accomplishment.

"You were a babbling idiot in a basement and a toy for The First to bat around for how long?" Angel asks snidely.

"It was a lot less time than you Rat-Boy. It didn't take me long to figure out the truth and make peace with what I am. Would you like me to tell you what that truth is?" Spike offers magnanimously.

"Oh why not, if nothing else it should be amusing to hear." Angel says deliberately sounding bored.

"I was a Demon, I did what Demons do. I lived according to my nature and yes I killed and fed on Humans. Didn't really have a choice did I Peaches? We can subsist on animal blood but it weakens us, makes us easy targets for our own kind. We'd have been killed long ago if we weren't unusually strong compared to most of our kind you know. Everything in creation preys on something else to survive. Do you blame the Lion for killing a Zebra; hunt a Tiger for killing a goat or a virus for making someone ill? Do you blame a Human for eating a hamburger? I'm positive that a cow would certainly see that as an act of murder but you see the thing about cows is... they understand the nature of things. Grass gives up its existence to feed a cow, the cow gives up its life in turn to feed a human... humans give up their lives to us and in the end they return to the ground to nurture the grass and it starts all over again."

"You're seriously not comparing a cow's life to a human's life are you?" Angel says disgusted. "You're feeding from Humans aren't you?!"

"The question is why do you put a human's life above everything else, including your own well-being? If cows... or pigs... could talk, I'm sure they'd have something to say about your one-sided logic. However we both know that for us the question isn't the issue. You don't need to kill a human to feed from them, so why do you punish yourself? You make your own trouble. Buffy didn't have to send you to Hell; you live there every day willingly. Do you know how I beat you, for the first time, and it is only the first time as long as you insist on being less than you are. You deny the very things that make you more than human, the things that I embrace, that those you fight embrace. I am you, without the guilt, the endless questioning and worrying over every little thing. You've denied yourself to the point that you've literally divided yourself and your strength in two. Don't lock Angelus up like a naughty little boy, use him. Yes I feed from donors Angel and I have friends that ensure that I have what I need to stay healthy." Spike chuckles silently at the look of horror on Angel's face. "Don't get your tights in a bunch Poufy-Man, it's not difficult to find supplies of discarded blood if you have the connections. I do."

Spike takes a step forward, his eyes locked on Angel, slow deliberate steps until he's so close that the tip of his nose is almost buried in the hair of his nape. "You don't have to live half a life."

"What would you know about it Spike?!" Angel growls spinning around, shocked to find he's practically standing right on top of Spike. He inhales sharply as he gets an up close and personal view of one of the most awe-inspiring sights in creation, Spike's eyes. They are truly astonishing from a distance but up close they become a universe of their own, deep and dark stormy pools that draw you in and hold you in a thrall that has absolutely nothing to do with the fact he's a Vampire.

From a distance the hue of his eyes are changeable like the oceans to which his eyes are so often likened; the grey-tossed blue of stormy seas one moment, the clear serene cerulean of tropical seas to an almost glowing neon blue when his Demon stirs deep within, all have a home in his eyes. Up close the reason for his extraordinary eyes becomes clear as an entire spectrum of blue shades coil around one another in a patchwork of beauty. Silvery blue flecks dance in the irises deepening to flashing golden topaz as his passions or his Demon is roused and unleashed. They are true wonders of nature and set into his vaguely feline features and lit from within by a personality that could power a city, they are unforgettable.

"What do I know about living with my Demon?" Spike asks the corner of his mouth tilting up in a half grin as his brow quirks up. Angel has the grace to look embarrassed. "If you lose your soul you try to send the world to Hell, without my soul I saved the world from Hell, TWICE. Do you still want me to answer your question?" Spike asks softly, taking another step and finally pressing their chests together as he nuzzling his cheek along Angel's chin.

Angel squeezes his eyes shut and takes a step away until they're no longer touching. "What are you trying to prove Spike?"

"Am I trying to prove something?" Spike asks, sounding thoughtful. "I guess maybe I am trying to prove something but it's only to myself Angelus, not to you. From the day Drusilla brought me to meet you, I've never really been alone. First there was Drusilla and the family, grudging though my acceptance among you was. Then you ran off to play with the shiny new toy that was your Soul and the family self-destructed in your wake but Dru was still there. She needed me and I guess I needed her too, to give me purpose and a reason to be. You took her eventually but fate is a funny thing. You took my love but another of your loves picked me up. I found shelter among my prey and I learned to see them differently. Since the night my human life ended all I've ever heard is that my life is over, transformed from normalcy and that I was more than any human. That was wrong, I've figured out what the truth of my existence is and I've come to accept it." Spike stalks over to a nearby girder support and leans against it, writhing as the freezing metal touches his warmer skin.

"And what is this grand self-evident truth of yours?" Angel crosses his arms over his chest and as impressive a sight as that may be it's not enough to distract Spike from what he wants to say.

"I don't need your charity or your magnanimous noblesse oblige to live in your shadow and accept the scraps that get tossed my way. This isn't LA and no one bows at your feet here. This is my town, I've fought for my right to be here, paid for it with my blood. I'm not the familiar stranger here, this is my home. You don't matter more than I do because you have a shiny entry in some dusty book of prophecies." Spike straightens from the girder with a subtle shimmy of his muscles. "The Humans you protect so viciously, they don't matter more than I do. Because I'm different than they are it doesn't make me disposable. Evil wears a lot of faces and some of them are Human just as some of them are Demonic. I know why you can't stand me, what makes you turn away from the sight of me and what makes you want to enjoy my pain. I may be a Vampire but I'm not dead, I'm more alive than you've ever been. That's what you hate about me isn't it, that and the fact that you've fooled them all, everyone but me. You have them completely snowed and believing that you're not Angelus. Darla didn't just take your soul, she stole your humanity. You've changed how you dress and how you speak but you've never been completely successful at changing how you act. I'd say Darla and Penn could offer evidence to that effect. So could a room full of lawyers I've heard about and that mark on Wesley's throat; that wasn't a car accident like he told me was it? I know that it wasn't, I've seen your work on enough occasions to recognize your hand in that scar."

"Shut up Spike, just shut up! You don't have a clue about what I think or feel!" Angel denies hotly. "You've always been jealous of me and wanted everything I have. You want to be me."

"Does it make you feel better to think so?" Spike asks curiously. "You asked me what I was trying to prove and I didn't really answer you. I'm not here to prove anything to you, those bruises I left you with spoke loudly enough in that regard. I'm here to live. Do you want proof that life exists for us Angelus?" Spike throws his arms open wide. "Here I am, living my life on my terms and out of your shadow. Drusilla may have taken my blood and with it my soul for a while but she didn't take my life and you couldn't pry it away from me. You hate me because I'm alive and I make you ask yourself the hard questions that don't have any right answers. Don't hate me because I refuse to crawl into the grave you've made of your life." Spike stalks to the stairs and picks up his jacket, sliding into it. "Go home Angelus and rest in peace." He turns and it's clear that he intends to leave.

"You didn't answer another of my questions. Who is he Spike?" Angel's voice is a rumbling bass growl. "You looked very cosy, a close friend of yours or both of them I should say."

Spike pauses but doesn't turn around. "How is Nina, Angel?"

"That's none of your business, Spike. Nina isn't part of this conversation so leave her out of it."

"Exactly, I'm glad you understand." Spike resumes his walk towards the door.

Angel's vision greys as he watches Spike walk away and he can only watch him go and with no idea where he's living now, his chances of finding him are slim but he can't seem to force his muscles to unlock and move. Maybe they're just too used to standing by and letting things happen.
 

Chapter Nine

Spike calmly side steps the hurtling projectile that explodes past the area he was just in, casually reaching out and catching Angel by the collar of his jacket and locks his hand.

Angel stares at the concrete just inches from his face, held from what should have been a painful impact by Spike's hold on his jacket. He swallows as Spike carefully levers him back and up against his chest, wrapping a powerfully muscled arm over his collarbone. Angel collapses back against him and takes a deep breath. "Why are things always so difficult between us Spike?"

"Maybe you just need some proof that you're alive too." Spike lets his head fall forward until his nose is buried in Angel's hair and he takes a deep breath locking the memory of that scent deep inside his mind. He can barely remember what Dru's scent was like and all his talk of independence aside, part of him still longs for Angel to see him as something more than a familiar stranger.

"Come back to LA with me Spike. Show me how to live?" Angel asks finally in a quiet voice.

"If you stay in LA, the question of living won't be an issue. Lorne is gone, Gunn may as well be. Fred won't stay forever, she's not bred to live in the belly of the beast. How long before you're alone?"

"How do you know about Lorne and Gunn?" Angel asks surprised.

"Just because I left doesn't mean I stopped caring. I made it my business to find out how you were doing." Spike pushes on his shoulder blades gently, levering Angel away and supporting him until he feels his muscles bracing under his hand ready to support his weight, and he stands. "All you're going to find in LA is death, probably a very messy one. You've made a deal with the Devil but forgotten that the Devil always stacks the deck in his favour. You can't win Angel."

"I could with your help." Angel says sounding positive. "We'd be a hard team to beat if we worked together rather than in opposition."

"Do you know what you'd get if I came back to LA?" Spike asks wryly. "Just one more target for the Senior Partners to practice on."

"It's that man isn't? He's the reason that you won't leave and come back with me." Angel says flatly.

"No he was the reason that I stayed but he's not the reason that I won't leave. There's a difference you know. I've made a life for myself here and all that's waiting in LA is a slow death. I've been there done that and wore the gaudy jewellery. I figure I'm about at my limit for miraculous resurrections."

"So it's not me that you're objecting coming back to LA for?" Angel turns his face away and he sounds uncharacteristically unsure of himself.

"No Pet, it's not you that I'm turning down just the death and dismemberment at the hands of the Senior Partners part of the equation. You have options Angelus, use them while you can."

"What options are those Spike? I'm the poster child for evil lawyers incorporated!"

"Only for as long as you stay in front of the camera Angelus. There are places beyond their reach." Spike slithers around and straddles Angel's lap, drawing his knees under him as he kneels comfortably on his thighs. "I made an interesting discovery when I was deciding whether or not to settle here on an extended basis. Were you aware that there isn't a division of Wolfram & Hart in Washington; that there isn't even a small field office? While I was researching I also found out there aren't divisions in Alaska, New Mexico, Puerto Rico, or Louisiana either. I started getting curious about what could be different about those places as every other State had at least a field office and usually several in the key cities."

"You know I don't think that we've ever looked at it from that angle before. Wes has tried to find out what the other divisions are up to so we can try and come up with ways to block them from inside. I don't think he's thought to analyze the places where Wolfram & Hart isn't and to find out what makes those places different from the rest." Angel muses looking intrigued.

"I think it has something to do with those places having a lot of mystical energy and a deep connection to the old ways. For all its modern urbanization there are places in this State where no human has ever stepped foot. Much of the old ways still exist among all the races that share this place. I've seen Demons here that I thought were extinct and some that I think are except for their numbers here." Spike tells him quietly. "I have a good friend that's a Healer, a powerful Shaman for her people and she tried to explain it to me. Something about 'Ley Lines' and reservoirs of energy left from the time before time began. She mentioned something about a 'Legacy of the Old Ones' and something about a well... it was all a bit strange. Mystic stuff was never really my thing but you may want to pass that on to Wes."

"You know I remember Wes mentioning something about a Well around the time that Knox disappeared and went missing." Angel remembers snapping his fingers as the memory comes back to him suddenly. "There was a security log showing that he signed the receipt of a sarcophagus into the log book but when Fred came back to the lab there was no sign of it or Knox. Wes checked through the files on his computer and all he found was some vague mention about a Well and some girl named Lori or something like that, his girlfriend probably. I wonder if it's a coincidence."

Spike turns his face aside to hide the satisfied flash in his eyes. "It's hard to tell, I never did like that Bloke. There was something shifty in the way he was always watching Fred when he thought no one was looking. He was probably up to something and it ended up biting him in the ass."

"Wes shared your distrust of Knox." Angel says dryly.

"Wes would have hated Knox regardless of whether he was devil or Angel, pardon the phrase. Few men are wont to suffer a rival gladly and Wesley is interested in Fred." Spike says slyly. "I wouldn't be surprised if those two got their act together eventually." His features smooth into seriousness. "Give them the chance Angelus. Leave LA and Wolfram & Hart while you can before something happens that you won't be able to fix. I imagine you have enough guilt you're carrying around already."

"You know this could be a record. We've been talking for a whole ten minutes and we haven't started fighting." Angel observes quietly, clearing his throat nervously. It occurs to him that he's enjoying Spike's weight in his lap and not sure what to make of that.

"Well I imagine it would be a difficult prospect to argue with a man sitting in your lap, there are all sorts of not altogether pleasant sensations that could follow such folly." Spike points out.

"Maybe I should just make sure you're always sitting in my lap then!" Angel exclaims sounding as happy as a man that's suddenly discovered the cure for all the ills in the world.

"Sure that'd work during a fight, whatever we're fighting would be laughing too hard to defend itself, easy kill." Spike jokes. His breath hitches as Angel slowly runs the palm of his hand up and down his back and he has to wonder if he realises he's doing that or not.

"You were lovers weren't you, that man and you?" Angel finally asks what he's really wanted to know since he saw Spike with that big ape.

"Which man would that be?" Spike asks innocently and almost laughs at the uncomfortable look on Angel's face.

"Well either, you looked pretty familiar with both of them damn it." Angel grouses darkly.

"It was both and it was a while ago but we're still... close, as you saw. They'd accept me in their relationship again I suspect if I showed an interest in renewing things on that level." Spike admits honestly, taking pity on him. "It's not about the sex, that's easily come by and I've never lacked in that department. It's about intimacy, inviting someone into your life and knowing that you can trust them with it and with all that you are. It's very liberating and being so close to them, well it gives me what I need."

"And what is it that you can get from a man that you need?" Angel asks boldly but then he lets his lashes drop over his eyes. "I mean... I never knew that you were, well that way. That one time we... you didn't seem to enjoy it much." He mutters barely loud enough for even their more than Human hearing to pick up. "You sure seem to enjoy it now though."

"Oh yes I didn't like it so much that I went right out and had a relationship with Penn for ten years." Spike says shaking his head and looking at him like he's lost his marbles but then his mouth drops open in shock. "You didn't know that Penn and I were lovers back then did you?"

"I... no... no I didn't know that. I think I would have killed him if I'd known that." Angel breathes.

"Well you stood by and let him die eventually but hey what's the life of one more Demon even if he was your 'son' right?" Spike says bitingly. "As Dad's go you've really been the pits ya know?"

Angel stiffens and he wants to deny the charge but what Spike said earlier repeats in his mind and he realises that's it's true, he has managed to single-handedly decimate a once proud Order to almost nothing. He's put the lives of Humans above his kindred and kin and ignored the evils that men do while he punished Demons for what they do simply because it is their nature to do.

He's honest with himself, he'll never be able to stand by and let a Human be harmed by the actions of a Demon. If he sees a Vampire killing a Human then he'd interfere but how many times has he stood by and watched news report after news report about the evils that men do and never realised that he was seeing his world in absolute black and white? Men kill each other for stupid reasons over things that matter only to them only for moments, here one minute and smoke and illusion the next. Why are they worth more than the lives of his Childer? Granted Penn was dangerous the antithesis of life and his death was inevitable. His mad Drusilla, trapped forever with a fractured mind, eternally his Childe, a little girl with no conception of right and wrong. They are beyond his help as much as Darla was, their humanity nothing more than a faint echo in time, given up joyfully to the darkness that consumed their lives.

He runs his palm over Spike's back, marvelling at the feel of petal soft cotton sheathed muscle. His strength is impressive and undeniable. Here is the true legacy of his life, this extraordinary Vampire that has not only followed in his footsteps but has passed him by to show him the way to salvation. He's forced to admit to the sting of pride when he thinks about what Spike has been able to accomplish even without a soul he was a better Vampire, a better man then he was so it's little wonder that he makes a better souled version too. He's given him some words for thought tonight and taught him a valuable lesson about perspective and he wonders what else he might be in the mood to teach him.

"How did you know that you liked men?" He asks, running his palm down to his waist, his fingertips tracing the fine leather of his belt and pants.

"I assume that you mean sexually and not as best mates I'd invite along for a pint at the local pub then?" Spike says with a chuckle. Angel nods and looks down shyly.

"I have you to thank for that realisation. That night against the alley wall was my awakening. It was quick and frenzied but it changed the way that I saw the people around me. I found pleasure with Dru in many forms, some bloodier than others, but there was always part of me that was left wanting and unsatisfied. You showed me a deeper pleasure that night and I understood that I was incomplete and that what I needed was something that Dru could never give me; she could never make me whole, no woman could. I knew then that I'd enjoy being with women but that they'd never give me the deeper pleasures that would make me really happy and content."

"Did Penn make you happy?" Angel asks curiously.

"He made me happier." Spike replies enigmatically. "After you left us in China and he returned, I was happier. Darla was dragging Dru all over Europe and Asia so it was just us for several years. He left when Dru returned and I refused to leave with him. I couldn't leave her she wouldn't have lasted out the year on her own and she was my Sire so I stayed and I never saw Penn again until he showed up in Sunnydale."

"Penn was in Sunnydale?" Angel is surprised but he doesn't know why. Of course Penn would follow the rumours to Sunnydale just like Spike did to find him in his desperate attempts to heal Dru. Then it occurs to him that Penn could have just as easily followed the rumour mill and arrived looking for Spike rather than him.

"Briefly but he left and followed us to South America when he found out that we weren't in Sunnydale but he didn't stay long but neither did I really. Dru was up to her tomcatting again and I was never one to wait in line patiently so we both drifted away. He found his end at the point of a stake and my life was stolen by a bunch of government thugs." Spike shrugs and sits back heavily, weighed down by the not so pleasant memories.

"Tell me what you saw in him?" Angel says in a rush trying to distract Spike from topics best less thought of in this moment.

Spike isn't foolish enough to think that Angel is still talking about Penn. "That's a provocative question, are you sure that you want to hear the answer?"

"I want. To hear it, I do." Angel says earnestly.

"Have you ever had an equal in your life Angel? Someone that you didn't have to hold back with, that could match you in every way? Buffy was strong but she wasn't my equal and I know that she wasn't yours. You had to hold back at least partly, so did I, part of my mind always had to be aware that I couldn't share everything that I was with her, not without hurting her, not in the good way. Dru may be older than I am and stronger in some ways with her spooky little mind tricks and tolerance for pain but she's never been as physically strong as I am. I had to hold back even with her."

"Women are fragile in some ways compared to men on a physical level; it's just part of what makes us two genders. It doesn't make one sex better than another, it just makes us different." Angel preaches.

"Save it for Gloria Steinem, Pet, I'm not talking about equality of the sexes here. It is just a fact that I've never met any woman that could match me physically, not even Buffy." Spike leans closer stifling a gasp as he can feel Angel's muscles shifting fluidly against his skin as he braces to support his weight. "Do you know how seductive it can be to not have to hold back? To know that you can give all that you are to someone else and know that they can not only take it but that they want it? Women are soft curves and hills and valleys. Men are planes and angles and strength and familiarity. I'm not sure that I could tell you but I could show you. Would you like that? Let me show you how it feels. Will you let me show you Angel? Will you take the chance that you may like what I do to you?"

"I want to go back to that club. I want to dance with you like that guy." Angel admits, neither granting nor denying Spike's request.

Spike rises smoothly to his feet, dragging his body along the length of Angel's chest until he can press his cheek against the rippling muscles of his abdomen. "You want to dance?" He strokes his fingers through Angel's hair, pulling his head back until their eyes can meet. "We don't need to be in public for that."

Spike starts to hum, rocking his hips from side to side slowly, the movement slowly travelling through his body until he is sinuous motion, boneless and fluidly graceful. He deliberately rocks his hips forward against Angel only to drift away seconds later until Angel is unconsciously following his movements as he slowly backs away, leading Angel.

Angel is on his feet before he realises that Spike has led him there, dancing around him in concentric circles a deliberate sensual parody of his earlier movements when they were fighting. He sighs as Spike brushes against him only to groan as he is just as suddenly gone. It's too much and he darts forward and locks his arms around Spike's waist yanking him to him. The sound he makes then is foreign even to his experienced ears as Spike's slight form melts against his filling an emptiness that he didn't know he had.

Spike slides his palms up his arms and over his shoulders and around to his nape, sinking into the short hairs that tickle that delicate patch of skin. The humming becomes a low breathy singing that dances over his nerve endings like caressing fingers.

Shadows
Now curtain the moon
But faith swears
It will shine again soon
Shine with love
You've been hiding from me

They sway together, shuffling their feet and barely moving their bodies until they pitch and roll into a sweeping waltz that has them gliding across the empty floor. The memory of long gone ballrooms and the dressy gala balls of yesteryear flit across their memories. They know this dance and they dance it well. Their strengths are well met and their power belies their grace/

 Your kiss
Has hindered the day
A longing
That won't go away
You just keep knocking
And waking my heart
Like daylight chasing the dark

Spike lets Angel twirl him into a spin before catching him up against him once more, uncaring when his feet leave the floor and he's carried along on Angel's fervour. He tightens his arms and calls up the music of his soul, singing his heart into the music.

I can exist being caught by your kiss
Willingly
Or grant you control
Of my body and soul
Ask it and so it shall be

He melts closer to breathe the last line directly into Angel's sensitive ear and he nips the lobe playfully as Angel's grace falters for a moment and he is dropped back to his feet on Angel's broken gasp and unconscious thrusting of his hips. "Ask it and so it shall be." He whispers once more turning them into another gliding sweep across the floor.

 Shadows
Now curtain the moon
Still faith swears
It will shine again soon
Shine with love
You've been hiding from me
With that love
You've been hiding from me

Angel gasps and his arms lock around Spike, driving them both forward against one of the support girders, Spike trapped beneath his weight and the immovable strength of the pillar. He backs up just enough to let Spike slowly slide down his body and regain his footing. The friction catches the soft material of his t-shirt and rolls it up baring an impressive set of sculpted bas that draw Angel's hand like a magnet does iron shavings. He can't stop touching the silken expanse it's much warmer than he would have thought. Perhaps it's just one more instance of Spike's overwhelming humanity.

Spike leans back against the pillar and slides his arms around Angel's shoulders and pulls him to rest against him as he rises up on the ball of his feet and presses his lips lightly to Angel's rubbing lightly as he continues singing, soft and low.

I can exist being caught by your kiss
Willingly
Or grant you control
Of my body and soul
Ask it and so it shall be

Angel wraps his hands around Spike's waist and lifts him easily, his head falling back on a hitched breath as Spike's legs curl around his waist, supporting his weight. His palms tingle as they brush over the warmth of his skin as he catches the end of the t-shirt and strips it over Spike's head. He inhales sharply as the sculpted perfection of Spike's chest is revealed to his avid gaze.

"Ask it and so it shall be." Spike lets his palms slide up from Angel's nape to cup his face as his thumb smoothes over his full lower lip.

"Kiss me Spike. Show me...." Angel leans forward sighing just as their lips touch and their bodies melt together.

"I've always loved you Angel...."

A talented mouth robs him of his power of speech as Angel arches into the sharp bite of pleasure.
 

Epilogue

 "Angel? Angel...? The steward said we're heading for turbulence, you should buckle up."

Angel is startled out of his dream by Wesley's voice and his hands move of their own accord to buckle his seat belt. He grabs the front of his jacket and crosses it over the clear evidence of his dream as his arms cross his chest. "What progress have you made locating Spike?"

"We've been in the air for an hour and a half Angel and the only clue we've got are some questionable photos on your picture phone. It's going to take time to find Spike even with our resources." Wesley says staring at Angel in amazement. "If it was so important to get Spike back why didn't you just knock him over the head and pack him in your luggage?"

Angel snatches his phone and looks through the pictures and isolates the one he wants and throws the phone at Wesley; who fumbles not to drop it. "Find him and we find Spike. Enough excuses, Wes. I want Spike found and I want to know everything about his life."

"And when you know all there is to know? What then?"

"I get back what's mine." Angel sits back in his seat and lets his eyes slip closed, closing out Wesley's continued yapping. Maybe he can reclaim his dream until he can find and reclaim Spike. He wonders how much of his dream is fact and how much of it is wishful thinking on his part. Whichever it turns out to be he knows one thing, he has too much to lose to let Spike walk out of his life. Maybe, just maybe, he's got something to prove too.
 

TBC in the conclusion of Proof Of Life.