TITLE: Body and Soul Trilogy - Part Two - Chapter 7
AUTHOR: Lysia
EMAIL: cricket818uk@wadnitt.fsnet.co.uk
FEEDBACK: Is essential. I can't write without knowing I'm getting it
right and constructive criticism is noted and used.
RATING: 12, for violence.
WARNING: Angst, depression. Light S/A comfort-type romance.
DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of them, but I'll give them back to Joss
when I've finished with them.
SPOILERS: Set sometime after 'Forever'.
ARCHIVING: Here. Anywhere else, just ask.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Sequel to 'The Curse', in which Spike is cursed with a
soul. Here he disappears into a pit of depression and Angel has to
get him out of it.

Chapter 7A - Angel's POV

I don't know what the time is when I awake. It's already night time -
I can tell that much - but I can't see the clock on the bedside table
because Spike's in the way. And I can't move because Spike's got his
arms wrapped around my neck.

He's almost awake too. He's mumbling in his sleep, just babbling and
random words. It sounds so silly to hear a master vampire babbling in
his sleep. Not to mention cute...

I struggle to see over him and he just holds on tighter.

"Spike, I'm trying to see what the time is," I tell him.

He mumbles something and snuggles closer. "No - cosy."

I roll over him and he makes a gurgling noise, and once I have seen
the time - ten fourteen - I roll back and find him pouting at me for
lying on him.

"How are you?" I ask him innocently, ignoring his little sulky face.

"Flattened," he replies, trying to appear cross but failing because
of that grin that keeps threatening to spread across his face. He
just lets it, and then looks away as if he's embarrassed.

"Sleep well?" I continue, his daft smile making me grin back at him.

He shrugs. "No more nightmares," he informs me triumphantly and with
a hint of relief. "Feel better now than I have for a long while."

"Good," I say, thrilled to see my Childe so healthy. I get out of bed
and grab my dressing gown from the chair by my bed. As I put it on I
hear Spike snigger. "What?" I demand, glancing at him.

He's sitting on the bed with his knees hugged to his chest, wrapped
up in the sheet like a little kid. "Your hair looks bloody stupid
without the gel in, you know," he announces between giggles.

Horrified, I put a hand to my head. Oh my God, my hair's sticking out
everywhere. I hate people seeing my with bed hair. Spike laughs at my
reaction and I glare at him. "You're a fine one to talk, Curly," I
reply with a teasing grin.

He mimics my actions, which makes me laugh even more. I haven't been
gelling his hair for him over the last week and the tips are curling
slightly. I think it looks nice, but he hates having curly hair.

"You haven't even been styling me hair?" he shrieks in mock horror.
He can always make me laugh with his melodramatics. "Oh such neglect -
I'm hurt!"

I smirk at his amusing display and mess his hair up even more on my
way past. But Spike isn't one to let something go without payback, so
he wreaks his revenge instantly.

He hits me with a pillow.

Well now I know he's better. Doing my very best to act serious I turn
around and grab the pillow, leaning close to him until our noses are
almost touching.

"So, are you issuing a challenge?"

I can't hear his answer - he's too busy spluttering. It's oddly
comforting that he can't take me seriously. Angelus was forever
talking down to him or beating him up for some trivial offence, and
Spike was either terrified or outraged. Now, with both of us souled
and a century older, all he does is laugh.

He gets his words together. "Bloody right I am. You don't care for 
a bloke and not do his hair for him. It's inhumane."

I manage a fake growl between sniggers and tug at the pillow in his
hands. We grapple half-heartedly for a moment, rolling around like
idiots, before I manage to wrestle the soft and feathery object of
destruction out of his hands.

I lie back on the bed waving my prize in the air. "I win!"

He disappears from my sight for a moment, then returns with two more
pillows.

"Hey, no fair!" I protest as he starts the fight again. Oh I can't
take it - the pain!

"Give up, mate?" he asks me, happily beating me to a pulp.

I smirk at him. I know Spike - I have to let him win or we'll carry
on all day. Either that or he'll ruin my pillows and we'll end up in
a big heap of feathers. "Go on then," I sigh.

He grins and jumps onto the bed, collapsing across it sideways, on
his back with his arms out. Evidently the winner gets to lounge
around while the loser tidies up the mess. I put the pillows back on
the bed and neaten the covers as best I can when there's a lazy
vampire sprawled on the bed.

"So?" I ask him, poking him in the ribs. "Are you going to do anything 
today, or just lie there?"

He opens his eyes a bit. "'M okay here," he tells me. "Bit knackered
though."

I sigh knowingly. "You need to feed," I tell him firmly. He should
not be this tired after a pillow fight. Before he can protest, I pick
him up and sling him over my shoulder, carrying him through to the
kitchen. I set him down on the work surface and get him a cup of
blood from the fridge. We're running low on the blood. I'll have to
visit the butchers and get some more.

"Drink that," I instruct him, handing him the cup.

"Yes Daddy," he mutters before gulping down a few mouthfuls. I can
tell how hungry he is. He may hate the memories that come with the
taste of blood, but he drinks it so desperately I can see how starved
he must be.

He pauses in his feeding, the carefree expression on his face fading.
He's having a flashback. Immediately I am by his side, holding him as
he shudders in anguish. His head rubs against my shoulder as he tries
to shake away the memories.

"It's okay," I whisper to him.

He begins to relax as I rub his back. It's so perfect to be able 
to treat him like this. In the early days when we were Angelus and
William he was just a lackey - some minion I created to keep Dru
occupied and follow orders from me. His life with me consisted of
lessons and cleaning tasks, or beatings when he got something wrong.

Then he changed his name and became Spike, and Spike wasn't going 
to put up with his bossy and brutal Sire. He rebelled, ignoring my
teaching and disobeying my orders. Punishing him was no good because
he just fought back.

Towards the later years we were begrudging friends. I acknowledged
that, although I didn't like his unruly nature and rebellious
attitude, he was a good fighter and I could be proud of him. Then I
got my soul and left him. Angelus's return brought him no joy either.
I know the Angelus that came back was not the one he knew. My evil
self has gone insane after a century of being trapped by my soul and
conscience. The way I beat and insulted Spike just for fun while he
was crippled is enough evidence of that.

But now we can put it all behind us. I can finally be the Sire Spike
needs, and he can be the Childe I've always wanted to care for. I'm
learning to adore this new Spike, this souled version. He's just so
vulnerable and honest. And I think he prefers me to Angelus. After
all, Angelus would never let Spike win a pillow fight.

Spike has stopped shivering now, but I've still got him in my arms. 
I pull back, and he looks at me with a slightly puzzled expression.

"What's on your mind?" he asks me.

I shrug. "I was just thinking - about us."

He just nods and goes back to his cup of blood. When he speaks his
voice is quiet and he seems thoughtful and almost... worried. "Oh."

~~~~~~~~~~

After feeding Spike I head up to the weapons store. When I came 
to Sunnydale form LA I brought a lot of my weaponry and training
equipment with me to practise before whatever battles we were going
to face, but what with taking care of Spike I've neglected my
training regime.

I am just beating my fists against a punching bag when I am suddenly
aware of Spike entering the room. My senses have gradually become
more attuned to his presence and it seems I can feel him when he's
nearby, as well as being able to sense his moods.

When I turn to look at him he is loitering hesitantly in the doorway.
He's got changed now into a pair of black jeans Xander gave him and 
a black silk shirt that was mine until the hem came down - I'm fussy
like that. He's fiddling with his nails as he watches me and I'm
almost relieved that he's started chipping his nail polish again.

"You okay?" I ask him, wondering what's wrong with him. He seems a
little worried.

He shrugs. "Just watching," he replies casually.

I gesture to him to come in and, after a moment's hesitation, he
walks into the room. Silently, I hand him a black vest top and remove
two bandages from the cabinet. As he changes from his silk shirt into
the vest I can't help but notice how painfully thin he is. He's
always been lean - I think he was a sickly child and it stunted his
growth - but now he's just... skinny.

I plan to change that.

He looks at me questioningly as I wrap the bandages around his hands.

"Have you finished the blood in the fridge?" I ask him, not telling
him my plans for the day.

He simply nods and watches a little nervously as I tie the bandages
off and step back.

"Good," I reply, picking up two pads and strapping them to my own
hands. He looks frightened when he realises I'm planning on getting
him to practise fighting. "I'm just checking you can defend
yourself," I explain gently. "I'm not expecting anything miraculous
or incredibly violent. Just... for your own safety."

He grins and sighs wearily. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"

I shake my head at him. "Come on, Spike," I appeal to him with my best
pleading look. "You need to keep your strength up so you can be safe.
For me, please?"

That seems to work. He sighs again and steps up, tensing. I hold my
hands up. "Just pretend you're..." I think for a moment. "... fighting
to get out of having to train," I tell him. "Beat me up - just knock
me down, and you can go."

He freezes, his eyes darting around before settling on me, wide and
startled. "That's what Skull said when... when he tortured me."

God, I wish I could take those words back. I didn't mean to bring
back any bad memories for him. But it seems to have had the right
effect.

Spike shakes his head, his lip curling. His vampire face forces its
way past the human mask and his fists clench. "That bastard!" he
hisses, flying at me.

He punches against the pads as hard as he can and, despite his weak
state, he's forceful enough to drive me backwards a few steps until I
brace myself better for the onslaught. I can feel the anger and the
pain rolling off him. The frustration of how Skull ruined our raid -
and his rescue mission - is finally making its way to the surface.

"Bastard!" he snarls, almost scaring me as he pummels the pads
repeatedly. "You think you can do that? You think... you can hurt 
my friends? Kill the... people I... try to save?"

His torrent of violence and angry growls continues for about five
minutes, but he tires quickly and soon collapses against me,
shivering from the excursion.

"I don't know... why I did that," he pants, his chest heaving as he
gasps for unneeded breath. "That violence - I don't know where it
came from."

"It's your demon, Spike," I explain softly. "You may have a soul but
you still have a demon. I do too. That's why you get a lust for
violence sometimes. It's good you got that out of your system."

He's still trembling a little but he manages to stand unaided, and
when he looks up at me his human face is back and his eyes are
glistening with tears. He's just released a lot of pent up emotion
and it must have done him the world of good.

"Yeah," he mutters, wiping sweat from his brow. "I feel better now.
And I think... I want to join you when you face him again. I want to
help. I know I'll be bloody useless in this state, but..."

"We'll fix that," I promise him with a grin. "You'll be back to full
health in no time."

He smiles, clearly cheered up by the fact that I want to help him
recover.

"Thanks," he says. "And... while we're on the subject... I'm hungry."

"Oh, we've got no blood left," I realise, removing the pads from my
hands and tidying up the room from my training session. "I need to go
out and get some. Will you be okay on your..."

"I'll go."

His volunteering to leave the house surprises me. I know he's done
very well over the last couple of days but I didn't think he'd be
ready for something like that. "Spike, are you sure?"

He nods, clearly confident. "I've been cooped up here for over a
week, mate," he tells me with certainty. "I want to get out. I know
where the butcher's shop is so I won't be long."

He goes to leave, but I put a hand on his arm and stop him. "Be
careful?" I entreat him, unable to keep the concern out of my voice.
He wraps his arms around my neck and pulls me into a tight hug. I
think he must be a little scared.

"I will," he promises, his voice a mere whisper in my ear. There is a
pause, then his lips brush against my cheek in a brief, chaste kiss.

I watch with pride as he walks out, preparing to take his first steps
into the world after such a difficult time in his life. I can't help
but admire him and the familiar possessive feelings resurface as I
think about him. He's so brave, my wonderful, beautiful boy. My
Childe.

Chapter 7B - Spike's POV

I thought this would be a piece of piss. Go out, walk about ten
blocks to the butchers, walk back home. But this is bloody scary.

I was okay on the way there. The streets were busy, cars hurtling by;
people scurrying past on their way home from late night shopping or
nights out, so I felt safe. I reached the butchers, went in, bought
the blood with Angel's money and left again.

Now it's deserted out here, as if the Sunnydale residents have
finally got the jist that it ain't a good idea to be out after dark
so everyone's cowering in their little houses. Everyone except me
who's wandering around waiting for someone to leap out and attack me.

I shiver and pretend it's from the cold, so I wrap my coat around me.
I'm so glad one of the Slayer's little friends dropped my coat around
to the house. I'm freezing here.

Well, I can at least try and kid myself.

As I make my way past the cemetery - the same cemetery I ran out of
pursued by a vast gang of vampires, an event which seems a distant
memory now - I hear a small noise coming from the hedge. Distracting
myself from my nervousness with a bit of idle curiosity, I lean down
and push the branches aside.

A scared little face looks out at me.

"Hello," I murmur. "What are you doing under there? Come on, I won't
bite."

My pun isn't appreciated by the little girl who crawls out of the
hedge clutching a teddy bear. She doesn't look much older than five,
and I crouch down to her level.

"Where's your mum, eh?" I ask her, wondering what a child her age is
doing out alone at this time of night. At the lack of response I sigh
and continue. "Well let's see if we can find her."

I pick the child up to stop her running off and getting lost and
begin looking up and down the street for any sign of life. As I do so
I hear the girl shout, "Mommy!"

A glance over my shoulder confirms my hopes and a woman dashes over
the road from the motel nearby. I am about to tell her where her
daughter had run off to when the girl is snatched rather quickly from
my arms and the mother glares at me.

"What do you think you're doing with my daughter?" she demands
angrily.

My eyes widen in disbelief. "She... she was lost," I explain, unable to
hide the hurt I feel. I seem to be feeling a lot of that since I got
this bloody soul. "I was just..."

"Stay away from us," the woman snaps at me, eyeing me up and down
with clear distaste.

I am just about to protest my innocence when another voice from
nearby attracts me attention.

"Jeez, lighten up. He was just trying to help."

I look to my left and see Cordelia standing by the gate to the
cemetery, watching us. She walks over, hiding the stake she is
carrying behind her back so as not to alarm the woman.

"Look," Cordelia explains calmly. "I know him. He's a good guy, which
is more than can be said for a lot of the things you find around here
at night. Believe me when I say he was doing you a favour."

The woman hesitates for a moment, then looks at me. "Thank you," she
mutters, sounding a little dubious, before gracing me with a polite
nod and retreating back to the motel with her daughter safely in her
arms.

Cordelia looks at me and grins. "Well look who's out and about. Heard
you were better now - glad to see it. How's souled life treating you?"

I shrug. "I'm alright now. Still get some horrible dreams and stuff
like that but... A-Angel's a big help." I hope she doesn't notice my
stuttering over Angel's name. "I've decided... I'm trying to help
people. Although..." My face falls as I watch the woman and her
daughter disappear into a room in the motel. "... I get the feeling
people don't want my help."

Cordelia shrugs. "Maybe it's the scary punk look," she suggests. 
"Might put people off."

I laugh. Trust Cordelia to blame my appearance. "So," I ask, changing
the subject. "What are you doing here?"

"Patrolling," Cordelia sighs with a roll of her eyes. "Giles says
there have been an 'increased number of vampire victims, reported in
the papers as being stabbed in the neck'," she explains, mimicking
Giles's posh accent, "and he thinks Skull's trying to build up his
army after we dusted a load of them. We think he's planning something
big, so it's lucky we took out a few of them when we did. Now we're
getting loads of vamps rising every night and we have to keep the
population down."

"Sounds like fun," I mutter sarcastically. "I'm just shopping for
food." I hold up my bag of blood from the butcher's.

Cordelia's nose wrinkles in disgust. "Ew! And at that unpleasant note
I have to leave you. More demons awaiting dusting. Say 'hi' to Angel
for me?"

"I will," I promise, waving as she trudges back to the cemetery to
continue her patrol. "See you."

She waves back. "Yeah, see you later, Scary Punk guy."

I set off again up the street, thoughtful. I pause for a moment and
look down at my all-black attire and leather coat, one hand going up
to my peroxide-blonde hair. Somehow I don't feel right. I don't feel
like myself, whoever I am now.

After a swift glance up and down the street, I turn right and head
into the town centre, searching the shops. Many are still open -
thank God for late closing day - and I grin when I find what I am
looking for. Angel might have to wait for his dinner. I have
something I need to do.

Chapter 7C - Angel's POV

Spike still isn't back. It's midnight now and I'm beginning to worry.
Is it possible that he could have been abducted by a gang again? I
have horrific images in my head of him being tortured again. I've
only just got him back - I can't lose him now.

When I hear the front door creak open and then close with a crash I
leap to my feet, rushing from my room into the lounge.

"Spike?!" I shout, waiting for him to reply. "Where have you been?
You only had to go out for blood. It shouldn't have taken that..."

I emerge from my room and look around the lounge for him, but I can
already hear the thump of his feet as he runs up the stairs.

"Spike, what are you doing?" I ask, following him up to the first
floor. I knock on the door to his room, wondering what could have
happened while he was out.

When he doesn't reply I open the door slightly and wait for him to
protest. He doesn't, so I walk in. Then I stand there staring at him.

He's changed his clothes. The baggy black vest top has been replaced
by a plain white long-sleeved t-shirt that fits beautifully. I don't
know where he got it from, but he looks amazing in it. I haven't seen
him in pale colours before.

But the biggest shock is his hair. The bleached look has gone, and
his hair has been dyed a light brown. Not dark like mine, not reddish
like he was in his mortal days, but a soft barely-brown shade that
borders on dark blonde.

And he looks gorgeous.

"Spike..." I exclaim, my voice a little quiet from the surprise. 
"Spike, you've... you've changed."

He looks at me hopefully, moving a little closer and smoothing out
his t-shirt. "You like it?" he asks me. He runs his hands through his
hair a little tentatively, as if he's expecting it to feel odd or
unpleasant. "Obviously I can't see it in the mirror but... you can tell
me."

I brush my fingers through the light brown locks, still
ungelled. "Yeah - it's nice," I tell him, smiling at his sudden
change of image. I did something similar when I got my soul, only I
started wearing rags and sleeping in a gutter, so he seems to have
made a better job of it than me. "Certainly different. What brought
this on?"

He shrugs and moves away from me. I think he feels a little
embarrassed. "I just didn't feel like me any more," he explains. 
"Since I got my soul I've changed, and I didn't think the punk 
look suited the new me."

I can understand that. "You look good," I tell him, unable to stop
myself staring at him.

"Plus I was scaring the people I was trying to help," he adds with a
small smile.

"Well Spike, I must say I like it." And I do. I can't stop looking at
him.

"That's another thing," he adds, raising a finger as if he's just
thought of something. "I don't want to be called Spike any more.
That's a name I got because of how I killed people. I don't want to
be reminded of it."

"Understandable," I agree. "You know I changed my name, so why not
you?"

"I just... don't feel like Spike any more. He was a killer. I'm more
like William than Spike now. The bloody poetry's come back now, all
them poncy words floating around my head."

"If you write any can I read it?" I ask with a grin.

"No," he replies with a pout. "It's as bad as it always was."

I crease my brow thoughtfully. "So... you want me to call you William
again?"

He shakes his head. "No," he replies bluntly. "William is dead."

I shudder as I remember killing him myself. "I'm sorry."

He waves a hand dismissively. "Don't be. I didn't mean it like that.
What I mean is... I feel more like him now but a century changes a
person, whether they're a vampire or not. I was weaker back then. I
let people trample all over me, and there is no way I'm going to let
that happen any more."

"So," I ponder thoughtfully, "if you're not going to be Spike, and
you're not William... who are you?"

He shrugs and worries his lower lip with his teeth. "I was thinking
maybe just... Will?"

I smile at how shy he is, as if he needs my approval to change his
name. I wrap my arms around him and pull him into a reassuring
hug. "Nice to meet you, Will."

I hear a sigh of relief as he nuzzles against my shoulder and I kiss
his cheek. As I hold my reborn and renamed Childe in my arms I try to
banish all negative thoughts from my head. The fears of what will
happen when we face Skull and whether Buffy will recover from her
injuries in time are pushed aside for this brief moment of closeness.

But as I try to clear my head and focus on this moment, I can't
ignore what is happening between the two of us, and the possible
consequences. Try as I may, I simply cannot push that niggling worry
from the back of my mind.

~TBC~