Chapter 9

Angel thought. He sat perfectly still in his giant black chair behind his desk, and he thought. And thought. And thought. An hour later, he finally stirred to stand in front of his windows. And he thought some more. He stared out over the familiar cityscape, his mind wandering back to the view from Fred's office, to Illyria, and then, back in turn to Spike again.

He was thankful for Wesley interrupting their conversation when he did, complaining he couldn't rest in his office. He offered to take Illyria with him to his apartment, hoping that maybe she'd recognize something. Angel was only too happy to relieve his charge. He had busied himself with paperwork and meetings for the rest of the day, pushing any thought of Spike to the back of his mind. 'It's not like he's in any pain,' he reassured himself. But sooner, rather than later, he found himself with nothing but time to think.

'Sunset. I've left him up there for an entire day.' The sky was turning a deep orangey-pink through the thick layer of smog. 'He pissed me off. Who does he think he is? Trying to taunt me with his 'Took Dru, took Buffy' crap. He never had Dru. She... And Buffy... Buffy I let go a long time ago. He never 'took' her from me. He drank from me! What was he trying to prove? That he's somehow better than me? That he can do that now? Oh yah, sure, save the world ONCE and he thinks he's a hero. And what am I doing? Trying to rationalize Spike?! There is no point when it comes to him! He never makes any sense. He's all impulse and no thought. Stupid, arrogant, and insolent. Talking like that to me, showing no respect! There was a time where he'd pay severely for having the nerve to stand up to me. He's lucky I didn't do more... So... what the hell am I feeling bad about? Not like I've done any serious damage. Just a few cuts and broken ribs. And that can happen just as easily during sex. SHIT! Not thinking that!!!! Ok... That's it. No more thinking. About ANYTHING. I am not going to stand here and brood about Spike. Not worth brooding over. Not. Brooding.'

He closed his eyes, unconsciously letting the image of a helpless Spike come to his mind. The picture was of the exact position and angles in which his body laid when he walked out. The eyes were staring back, blue and clear. His skin was paler than usual; being drained of blood can do that to a vampire. Then his neck, attempting to heal from the savage tear Angel had made, dried blood staining the curve of his neck and pooling on the floor. Red lips, lack of a pout or sneer for once, were parted and tinged with blood. The black duster he used more for security than persona, ripped across his arm and chest hiding the cuts underneath. More blood around his waist where he must have bled from the gash across his stomach. Blood. The thought of so much of Spike's blood overwhelmed him for a moment and he took in a sharp breath to steady himself. He licked his lips still able to taste the blood. It was Spike alright, and something else he hadn't tasted in so long. Cursing himself for having his mind drawn back to him, he opened his eyes and regretfully began to brood yet again. 'Maybe he is in pain? Is that why...? No, can't be... I've chained him up for days before and did some of the most... Angelus! Angelus has chained him up for days before. Things that were done to him, so brutal and... but he never shed a drop then. So, why? Why now when he's never cried in front of me before? Why do I care? Because he's such a good friend? Yeah, right. So what was so...? Oh... He's up there and he can't move. He's trapped in his body that can't move. Trapped. Does he feel... No, why would he feel betrayed. It's not like he and I are... We still argue. He still pisses me off. Embarrasses me in front of my friends, tempting me to kick his ass. He... we talk more. Understood about Lawson. Something I couldn't explain to the others. He came to me when he was scared that Pavayne tried to... Was he trying to...? Does he think I'm...? Oh, no. He... shit. He thinks we're friends... Does he? Doesn't he? Damnit! He came to talk about Fred. He said he wanted to talk. And... what was that?... Concern? He was asking for help when he thought he was being sucked into hell. He needed answers, I couldn't give them... Is he... what? Trusting me now?... Spike would never admit... He's never... And I just left him up there, like... Fuck! The same feeling when I... Not again...'

Angel took the elevator up to his suite to grab a few large heated bags of specially marked blood before going up to the training room. He hesitated before actually punching the button, trying to figure out exactly what he wanted to say. He wondered whether Spike would be relieved or angry, betting more on furiously enraged and ready to throw things. The short ride came to a halt and the metal doors slid open. Angel had to stagger back from the powerful assault tears and blood in the air, nothing like earlier when he had left. It filled the entire floor, stronger and heavier. He stepped cautiously into the room noticing how unchanged the blonde's position was. The eyes were closed now, moving rapidly under the lids. Tears rolled out from underneath dark lashes and onto the pale skin. A wave of pity rose in Angel's chest as he took in the defenseless body of his grand-childe.

He kneeled at his side, setting the bags of blood nearby. He watched as another tear followed the moist path from eyes to floor. He watched as the white-blonde hair shimmered in the last remaining golden light of the sun. He watched as his hand crept out to touch the softness of the waves at the nape of Spike's neck. Before long, Angel had to quickly stop himself when a familiar resentment began to rise in his throat. Taking a moment to gather his thoughts, he reached for the nearest bag, ripping a small hole at one corner. He turned the smaller vampire's head and allowed the dark crimson drops fall between the parted lips waiting for when Spike's instinct would take over. Sure enough, there was a tiny flick of the pink tongue, straining for each successive drop. Angel lowered the bag allowing Spike to suckle the flow.

He awoke with a start from another dream as the blood began to take effect. The pain from the rapid breaths he took reminded him that he was still too weak to move. Angel watched as the eyes slowly focused and registered him with a frightened and then suspicious look, switching between him and the bag of blood resting near his mouth.

"It's not poisoned if that's what you think." He gave a small smile as doubt crossed the blonde's face. After a moment of thought, he began sucking at the blood again, a little more forcefully this time. Angel had purposely made a small hole, knowing that too much at once would be a bad idea. "It's a mix of some Slayer blood and other strong human blood," he went on trying to fill the silence. "Don't ask me where they get that. Haven't gotten around to complaining about it. Worked pretty good last time when you 'took my cup of perpetual torment.'" No change was visible in his expression even when the slightly mocking tone was clear. Blue eyes just stared back, searching for something. Noticing an irritating lock of hair across his forehead, Angel reached out to brush it back. He had apparently disrupted it when he snatched his hand back earlier. At the sight of the outstretched hand, Spike immediately flinched and tensed in return. He drew his arm back without question.

Within a few minutes, the bag was completely drained. Spike wasn't looking as pale as before and the puncture wounds were closing neatly without the red puffiness of before. Feeling confident, he rolled his over and away from the larger vampire, slowly got to his feet. Seconds later, in a blur of movement, he was in Angel's arms. He hadn't expected his knees to buckle from the weight and he never even saw the other vampire move to catch him. Everything was dizziness and disorientation, but he knew enough to scramble out of the cool embrace.

Angel didn't fight him. He let him move off a few feet away, watching him trying to balance on hands and knees. In fact, he was too surprised at not having an earful of screaming, ranting, and raving, that he didn't do much of anything but watch. It took a moment before Spike finally sat down, gathering himself into a tight ball with legs pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped firmly around. When he didn't move, Angel remembered what he wanted to say on his way up here. His version of an apology without having to actually say 'I'm sorry.' Now was the only chance he had to make Spike listen without interrupting.

"Someone I once knew betrayed me." He looked up to see if he would try to stop him, but there was nothing. Just a glazed over look. He continued. "Stuffed me in a metal box and sank me to the bottom of the ocean... I was down there for months. Couldn't move. Couldn't call for help. Who would hear me, right? Just me and the dark water. Oh, but there was a real nice window for me to look out of while I was trapped. Nothing to see, not even fish swam that deep."

'Maybe I should explain how I felt?'

"So I dreamt. I was too weak to do much of anything after a while, and the hunger for blood was overwhelming. Sure, sometimes I dreamt about good times with my friends, my colleagues. But mostly it was blood I saw."

'Where am I going with this?'

"So many different tastes. And I wanted them all. God, I thought about those times long ago."

'This isn't what I wanted to say'

"The hunting. Oh, their blood so rich, pumped full of adrenaline, and so hot from the running that it almost burned your tongue. The taste of innocence in babies and virgins."

'God, what am I saying? I need to shut up right now!'

"Cheap booze in the street walker's, sugar and spice in that of the noble ladies and gents. Sweat and smoke in those of the young men that lingered outside bars for too long. It was all so vivid."

'I'm sure he understands how desperate I was.'

"I was desperate."

'I said that out loud!'

"Then there was a different type, filled with strength and power. Slayer's blood, Buffy's blood. In my mind, I wanted to rip through that flesh just to have another taste."

'Shit, he flinched! Where am I going with this?'

"And Darla, hers was almost as rare, but just as potent. I remembered the taste of Dru, tasted like lemons she did. Rolled the flavor on my tongue every time I took her."

'Another flinch. Am I trying to piss him off? Revenge?

"Added so much to the pleasure. And when I took..."

'Finally! Stop. Don't talk anymore!'

He glanced up at Spike seeing a momentary look of curiosity. He wanted to know what Angelus had tasted in him. And of it's own accord, Angel's voice started again, softer that before. "When I took you, drank from your body, the blood was flavored like cinnamon and honey. And another taste, like the fire of rebellion you were, the arrogance of your nature, it was all there, all wrapped up in you. Your strong will, your love and hate, your passion, I tasted it each time. It was almost..."

'Don't say it. Don't say it.'

"intoxicating. Made me crave it."

'He's still looking at me.'

"But behind all this, if I drank long enough," he paused and looked away, ashamed, "I found a taste of the shy Victorian poet."

'I'm way beyond my point now.'

"It was like, when Dru turned you, she didn't drain you completely. So some of William was still locked away, hiding in the far corners of your body, too scared to mix with the demon. I could taste it sometimes when I dreamt. When I was unable to do anything but think. No hope of ever being found." He paused for a moment regaining his composure and turning his look even further away.

'This can be salvaged. The point. Say what I was going to say in the beginning and I won't have to deal with this again. Can put it away. No guilt. The point.'

"But Spike, that wasn't my point."

'Finally! Control!'

"What I wanted to say was, I know what it feels like to be trapped like that. By someone you think wouldn't leave you alone and helpless. Physical torture is one thing, but that, that's torment of the mind. And I know how it feels." He saw Spike jerk his head back so fast he thought it might actually snap from the force. His eyes were blazing with fury. Angel continued quickly before the other had a chance to interrupt. "I'm sorry."

'Wasn't going to say that.'

"I'm sorry for doing that to you. I overreacted. Had too many things on my mind and you just pushed me to the edge. I didn't know you would break down like that... You never... Anyways. So there you have it. Call it a peace offering, a truce or whatever, for what happened. I know what you probably felt. We'll just... stay out of each other's way for a while, let things get buried and back to normal. Case closed, alright with you?"

After the long speech, the feeding was finally setting in, giving him better use of his muscles. This time when he stood, he wavered for only a second. He saw Angel reaching for another bag of blood, but ignored the implications of feeding again. Spike dragged his feet weakly to the elevator, body slumping against the wall as he waited briefly for the doors to slide open. He didn't look back when he stepped inside, even though he knew he was being watched. Nor did he make any effort to raise his voice barely above a whisper, he knew he would hear well enough. "You. Know. Nothing. Of. My. Torment." And again, silence filled the room as the doors closed once again.