•••

Angel stared at him in shock. He had to be lying. He absolutely had to be lying. Buffy was dead. Spike did not have a soul. Buffy was dead. Buffy could not be alive. He looked down at Spike, who was practically wrapped around himself, shaking like a leaf. Angel stood and walked out of the room, heading for his own quarters. When he got there, he reached for the telephone.

“Willow? This is Angel. Did I interrupt you?” Angel asked quietly.

“No! No, not at all! Um, we’re…we’re all around the house. So…Um…Angel? I…goddess…how do I say this? Um…something really weird happened yesterday…” Angel sat down on the bed. Spike was telling the truth? He listened to the torrent of words flowing over the phone line. Buffy was alive. Alive in Sunnydale, and no one knew how or why. Well, he knew, and Spike knew.

“Willow,” Angel interrupted gently. “Willow, Buffy’s alive? That’s great! That’s…amazing. Unbelievable. Are you sure?” He listened to several more minutes of chatter. “Look, Willow…I’m not sure that Buffy needs to know I called then. I was just checking up on you all, to see how everything was going. Um, call if you need anything.”

“Um, Angel? Could you, I don’t know, ask around or something, you know? I mean, we’re all really happy she’s back, but we seriously don’t get it.”

“I’ll ask around.”

Finishing up the phone call, Angel sat on the bed, staring at the carpet. Buffy was alive. He was happy, of course. He felt really odd, though. He’d just spent months getting over her death, then realized that as much as he loved her he may have not loved her as much as he thought, and now she's back among the living. And then there was Spike. Spike! He’d left the vampire alone in the other room.

Running back to where he’d left the blonde, Angel ran back through his memories of what he’d been through when he first got his soul. If Spike really had a soul, then he was in incredible pain.

The sight that greeted Angel was terrible. Spike had curled up even tighter than before and a low keening sound accompanied his shuddering. Angel reached over and took the smaller man into his arms, rocking the vampire against him. He purred softly, knowing that the subvocal sounds were soothing for Spike. After a long while, the blonde relaxed slightly, leaning against Angel’s chest.

“Pain?” Angel asked. Spike nodded silently. Angel ran a hand through Spike’s hair, holding him close. “You came here for help.”

“I don’t know what to do. It hurts,” Spike cried. Angel was worried; Spike never cried. “I’m supposed to be like you.”

Angel started at the comment. “Like me?” He looked down at Spike.

“Warrior for Light and all that. Least that’s what the woman from The Powers said.” Spike went back to shivering and Angel tightened his hold on the vampire. Spike was obviously deeply distressed. Angel knew what he was going through. At least Spike had someone to help him; Angel had wandered about alone with nothing to help him when he’d been cursed.

But Spike hadn’t been cursed. He’d willingly taken on the soul, willingly entered into the service of The Powers. Why was he suffering? Was it just a side effect of the soul, to suffer for all the pain he’d caused? Spike had certainly caused a lot of pain in his long life. Another thought occurred to him. Did Spike’s soul come with that ‘happiness’ clause?

“Spike,” Angel began, unsure of how to approach the topic. “Your soul is like mine?”

Spike looked up. “Not exactly. No clauses or anything. Just a soul and that whole work for us until you’ve gained redemption thing.” Angel relaxed. It was one thing he didn’t have to worry about.

Spike had resumed rocking again, still moaning softly. “Shh…it’s alright, Spike.” He felt Spike tense up. “What is it?” He asked anxiously.

“I…I hate that name,” Spike said suddenly. He had just realized it. He did hate the name. It stood for all the pain, the guilt and the hate he felt.

Angel closed his eyes, leaning back against the wall. He understood what Spike meant. He had ceased being Angelus when he got his soul; he was no longer Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. The name was painful for him. Spike’s own nickname must be no less painful now.

“Wil.”

Spike looked up at Angel. “What?”

“Wil. You aren’t Spike anymore, are you? Wil is your name, after all. No one has to call you Spike ever again.” Angel smiled hopefully at the younger vampire.

Spike thought about it. No one had called him by his given name in a very long time. It felt good; it reminded him of when he was human. He’d been a fairly weak human, but not a bad one. “You’re right.”

The events of the past night were quickly catching up to the blonde. Even with the human blood now in his system, he was exhausted beyond belief.

Angel recognized his childe’s state. “Sleep, Wil. I’ll be here when you wake.” He gently placed Wil on the bed. He reached around, untying boots and pulling off clothes. The younger vampire had already succumbed to slumber. Angel carefully covered the sleeping form with blankets and quietly left the room, pulling the door shut.

The sun had risen several hours ago and Angel himself was quite tired. Still, he had to talk to Wesley. It was probably best that the man had stayed behind. Walking downstairs, Angel went in search of the ex-watcher.

He found Wesley engrossed in a demonology text, oblivious to Angel’s entrance.

“Wes.” The human jumped up in surprise.

“Oh. Angel. I didn’t hear you come in.” Wesley looked around. “So, how did it go?”

Angel smirked and sat down. “Well, you aren’t going to believe me.”

“Try me.”

•••

“I don’t believe you.”

“Told you,” Angel sighed. Wesley was right; it was a pretty incredible story. “But I called Sunnydale. Willow said Buffy was alive. She has no reason to lie to me.”

Wesley considered the situation. The very idea of Spike doing something…selfless was inconceivable. “If it were anyone but Spike—“

“Wil.”

The human corrected himself. “If it were anyone but Wil, I might believe it. But him? He’s evil!”

Angel looked over at the man. “So was Angelus. What is hard for you to believe is that he would do it willingly for someone else, for no personal gain.”

Wesley glared for a moment, and then conceded. “I know. But, isn’t there some way to check out his story? I mean, some way to look for the soul?”

“I thought about that. There are some spells, here and there, but…why don’t we ask Lorne?”

“The Host?” Wesley squeaked.

“He helped with Cordy and he can tell things like that,” Angel replied calmly. “I’d like to get some of this settled before the others come back in. If Wil really has a soul, he’s going to be staying here and working with us, at least for the time being. I’d rather not spend my time keeping Cordy and Gunn from staking him.”

Angel was right, Wesley knew that much. Without some other assurance, the others would be after him as soon as they saw him. “I’ll call Caritas. We’ll need to do this fairly soon.”

Wesley ushered Lorne into the hotel where Angel was waiting well away from the doors. “Angel! Long time, well, not so long time, no see!”

“Lorne. Thanks for coming.”

“Well, apparently I’ve started doing house calls. I’d love to just stay and make myself at home in this lovely hotel, but I’ve got to make this quick. Where’s the patient?”

“Did Wesley tell you anything?” Angel asked as he led the green demon up the stairs.

“The basics, your childe, very evil vampire, got soul to bring girl back from dead, here to get help. Did I miss anything?”

“He has a very bad attitude,” Wesley added. At a glare from Angel, he relented. “Well, used to. Maybe the soul mellowed him some.”

The demon and the human cautiously entered the room behind Angel. Spike was still curled up under the blankets Angel had placed over him. He looked young and innocent and very alone in the bed. Angel sat beside him, gently awakening the younger vampire.

“Wil?” Wil opened his eyes, looking up drowsily at his Sire.

“Mm?” He mumbled. He was never good at waking up during the day.

“Wil, there is someone I need you to meet.” Angel gestured toward Lorne. The younger vampire looked over, his eyes widening at the sight of the bright green demon. “Lorne is going to help you, ok?” Wil looked searchingly at Angel. After a minute, he nodded.

“Ok, Lorne.” Angel motioned for him to come forward.

Lorne gently clasped his hands around Wil’s face, searching for what The Powers would show him. He stayed motionless for several minutes, and then sat back with a sigh. Wil sank back into the bed, falling asleep immediately.

Angel and Wesley looked at Lorne expectantly. “He definitely has a soul, and he’s really suffering for it,” Lorne said. Wesley visibly relaxed.

“Is that all?” Angel asked.

“Nope. He’s supposed to be here,” Lorne added.

“What do you mean?”

“Just what I said—he’s supposed to be here. The Powers want him to work with you. He needs your help to figure out what to do,” Lorne said. Wesley snorted. Lorne rounded on him.

“Don’t start with that. That man,” he pointed down at Wil, “gave up everything he was, accepted a fate his kind finds worse than death, to bring back someone who turned on him the first chance she got. He needs Angel’s help. Angel has had a century to figure out how to live with a soul. Besides that, The Powers want Wil to work with Angel.”

“What do you mean, turned on him?” Angel asked.

“Apparently that girl he traded his life for put him through the ringer, and recently.”

“Buffy. He saw her yesterday. She must have said something to him,” Angel thought out loud. “Something to make him come here.”

“Perhaps,” Wesley said, considering the situation.

“Well, I’d love to stay and chat, but business calls,” Lorne said, heading for the door. “Look, when you get blondie here up and running, bring him by the club. Seriously, good luck, Angel.” With that, Lorne left to return to his karaoke bar.

“Cordelia is never going to believe this.”

“I know.”

Angel looked down at his sleeping childe. “What do I do?”

Wesley pondered the situation for a moment. “Tell them the truth.” He glanced at Angel, who nodded in assent.

“Could you call them in?”