•••

“Fred, put down the Sharpie.”

The young woman looked nervously at Cordelia Chase, who was sternly wagging a finger at her. She capped the marker quickly and set it down on the counter.

“Good. You can write all over your own walls, but no formulas in the lobby!” Turning toward Angel, Cordelia addressed the vampire next. “Angel, you have to do something. She’s driving me insane!”

Angel sighed. Fred was improving dramatically. Yes, she was trying to write all over the lobby walls. At least she was in the lobby. “Cordy, patience?” He tried smiling at her, which got him nothing but a glare. “Ok, ok. Fred?” Fred looked at him hopefully. “Fred, I’m going to give you some notebooks.” Fred nodded quickly. “You can write formulas in them, and then tack the papers to the walls. Ok?” Fred nodded again.

“No writing on the walls. Writing on paper, then paper on the walls. Writing a step removed from the walls. Got it,” Fred chattered anxiously. Angel gave her a reassuring nod.

Wesley emerged from a back room carrying several large weapons. “Angel, you need to have these sharpened.” Angel rolled his eyes. The former Watcher was more obsessive about the care of his weapons than he himself was.

Angel was about to reply when he sensed another vampire very near. He turned toward the main doors only to see a familiar blonde fall through them and collapse into the foyer.

“Spike?”

Angel rushed over to the fallen vampire. He reached down, turning over Spike’s body, looking for why the younger man had collapsed. He found nothing. “Spike.” He got no response. “Spike, what are you doing here?”

After a moment, Spike’s eyes opened. Blue eyes swimming in tears gazed up at Angel. “Sire…I…” The blonde vampire lost consciousness mid-sentence.

Angel picked up the vampire, turning back to his colleagues.

“Is that Spike?” Wesley asked, cautiously approaching the figure in his friend’s arms.

“Spike, as in tortured Angel for that ring, has a chip in his head Spike?” Cordelia squeaked.

“Who’s Spike?” Fred asked tremulously.

Angel looked at them. “Yes, it’s Spike. He’s my…a vampire I know rather well. I don’t know why he’s here, but something is wrong with him.”

“How do you know?” Cordelia asked. “He could be tricking you, you know, trying to torture you again. Why can’t we stake him?”

Angel sighed. “You can’t stake him because Spike was helping Buffy before she died, so he’s not all bad. How do I know something’s wrong with him? Besides the fact that he passed out?” Angel asked the group, walking up the stairs toward the empty hotel rooms.

“Cordelia, stay with Fred,” Wesley asked the seer as he followed Angel. He jogged to keep up with the vampire, catching up to him only when Angel stopped to enter a vacant room.

“Are you sure about this, Angel? Cordelia could have a point, you know.”

Angel laid Spike on the bed, gently arranging his limbs on the mattress. He looked over his childe for several minutes, thinking. “He called me Sire, Wes. He never calls me that.”

Wesley took a deep breath. He knew that Angel and Spike’s relationship was strained, to say the least. The blonde vampire did not accept Angel with his soul, and generally had nothing to do with him. “What do we do?”

The vampire turned to the human. “He needs blood. He hasn’t fed well, that much is obvious. Spike can’t feed off of humans, so he’s been drinking animal blood. It’s fine when he’s healthy, but vampires need human blood to heal quickly.”

“Right. Um, the sun’s going to be up soon. I suppose you want me to fetch a pint or two for the blonde menace?” Wesley asked warily.

Angel winced. He hated asking Wesley to do this. He could take the sewer, but… "It's either that or I go get it, and leave you all here with Spike.”

Wesley grimaced. “I’ll be back in a jiffy then.” Angel pulled out some money, thrusting it at the man.

“Get at least five pints, maybe more. Whatever that’ll buy.” Wesley just raised an eyebrow.

“Any particular vintage?” He asked sarcastically.

“A-negative.” Angel replied deadpan.

“Right on it.” Wesley headed back down the stairs. Angel heard the screeching as the ex-watcher explained just where he was going to Cordelia. The only thing keeping the girl downstairs was Spike’s presence up here.

Angel pulled a chair to the edge of the bed and sat down to study Spike. The younger vampire was gaunt, his hair limp and unkempt. His clothes were dusty and in need of washing, his duster filthy. Willow had told him that Spike had…feelings for Buffy, something that no one really took seriously until the Slayer died. The blonde had taken her death badly, according to the witch. Still, Spike’s condition was worse than Angel would have expected. There was also the issue of the pain he’d seen in Spike’s eyes. Angel had never seen Spike show pain like that, even when he was being tortured. It made no sense.

The brunette remained in thought until Wesley returned a few hours later, carrying up a tray.

“Red Cross!” Wesley chirped. He set down a tray containing several bags of human blood, already heated. “So…” He started. “Cordelia has gone home. She took Fred with her. She is not comfortable with Spike here, and would like me to tell you that you can call her when he has left. Permanently.”

Angel cocked an eyebrow but did not respond to Cordelia’s statement. “You may want to leave, Wes. This might not be pretty.”

“Are you sure? This is Spike—“

“I can handle this.”

Wesley turned to leave. “I’ll be downstairs. Call if you need anything.”

“You can go home. You need sleep,” Angel said. He looked over at the man. “Please. I can handle Spike.”

The demon hunter considered the situation. “I’m staying. I’ll be downstairs researching.”

Angel sighed and relented. “Fine.” He turned back to Spike, leaving Wesley to return to the lobby.

The vampire reached over the bed, grasping Spike firmly by the shoulders. He shook the younger vampire gently, calling his name firmly. After a few minutes, Spike began to stir.

Angel watched the vampire’s blue eyes swim in confusion for a moment before clearing. The pain he’d seen earlier was still there, glassy and sharp. He reached over and picked up a packet of blood, wordlessly offering it to Spike. The blonde looked at it for a moment before recognition set in and he tentatively reached for the bag. Angel watched as Spike slowly lifted the bag to his mouth, his face shifting slowly. The younger vampire carefully drained the bag, wincing slightly.

“Human,” Spike said, watching Angel.

“Blood bank. You're weak,” Angel replied, replacing the empty bag with another. He knew the other vampire was ravenous and did not understand why Spike was not ripping into the blood with gleeful abandon. “What happened?”

Spike finished off the second pint of blood and glanced at the tray. Angel gave him a third container, watching carefully as the flush of fresh blood rose on Spike’s face. After several silent moments, Spike finished the last of the blood and lay back on the bed.

“Spike, what happened? Why are you here?” Angel asked patiently, more patiently than he felt. He wanted to know what Spike was up to. He was also more than a little concerned.

The younger vampire stared up at the ceiling. Where to begin? He felt better here than in Sunnydale and could actually think fairly clearly. Being around his Sire did that for him in the past; apparently it still worked.

“Spike—“

“Long story.”

“I’m not getting any older.” Spike snorted softly at the remark. He looked over at Angel, seeing for the first time the sadness in his Sire’s eyes and on his face. It was what Spike used to think of as another sign of Angel’s weakness. Now he knew better.

“Like I said, it’s a long story. I’d rather tell it straight through.” Spike looked over at Angel, hoping he’d agree to just listen.

Angel’s concern grew. Spike had yet to exhibit his trademark cockiness and brash rudeness. He nodded, indicating that he would listen to what Spike had to say before commenting.

After a few minutes, Spike began to speak. “You know Buffy died, right?” Angel nodded, pain flashing on his face. “You know I loved her?” Again, Angel acknowledged Spike, but this time anger accompanied it. Spike grimaced. “I know it wasn’t like you, all ‘perfect soul-love,’ but I did love her. You loved her; you know what its like.” Angel had the good grace to agree. “Anyway, after she died, I couldn’t…I couldn’t live anymore. Didn’t have anything to live for.” Spike stopped for a moment, lost in memories.

Angel’s eyes widened in surprise. He thought back to just a few weeks ago, to when he and Cordelia had been attacked by an old acquaintance of Angelus’ whose mate he’d just killed. The vampire had gone mad at the loss of his lover, accusing Angel of not loving Buffy enough, since he could obviously go on living when she was dead. How had Spike loved her more than he had, that the younger vampire could lose the will to live?

“So I’m lying in my crypt. I’ve not been feeding, really weak. The door’s open and I know that the sun will shine in the next day and if I don’t do something, I’ll fry. So I just sit there in the corner and decide that’s not a bad thing.” Spike paused. “I’m watching the sunbeams get closer to my feet, and for some reason I decided to pray.” He stopped again, lost once more in the past.

At this point, Angel was glad he was sitting down; if he’d been standing up, he’d have fallen over. He was fairly sure Spike was telling the truth, but if he wasn’t, this was the best con he’d ever pulled.

“An’ I’m there, praying to the bleeding Powers That Be, asking them why they let her die, why they didn’t take me instead, when this woman shows up in my crypt, right when I should have turned into dust,” Spike continued. “She says she’s from The Powers. Says that since they don’t get many prayers from us evil demon types, they took an interest in me. I’m laying there, wondering why I’m not on fire, and she’s reading my mind, telling me that they’re sorry Buffy died, that no, it wasn’t her time to die.” Angel jumped slightly at that comment. Not her time to die?

Spike forged on, surprised that he’d been able to get this far. He didn’t really want to continue, but if he stopped now, he’d probably not be able to go on. “So she offers me this deal. Says that The Powers don’t want my life for Buffy’s, they want me to work for them. If I do that, they’ll bring her back,” He said softly. “Said if I was willing to take back my soul, Buffy would be alive again. And I said yes.” He stopped, looking over at Angel, who looked like he’d been hit over the head.

“You know what? It worked. I got up last night, feeling like I’d been dragged through seven hells, and made it to that magic shop they hang out at, and Buffy’s there, all alive and glowing and perfect, and they have no bleeding idea why she’s there, and she doesn’t know she’s been dead, and they don’t know I’ve got this soul in me,” Spike said quickly, as though if he stopped talking he’d never start again. “And I saw here there, and she hates me, hates me because I couldn’t live without her, and I couldn’t stay there, it hurt too much, it hurt to see her there hating me, and I didn’t know what to do, I had to get away from there.” Spike finally ran out of things to say and curled up on the mattress, hiding the red tears falling from his eyes.