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Friends and Enemies	By : Spacey Category: AtS AU/AR > Slash - Male/Male Views: 1681 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Friends and Enemies
- 1
Title: Friends and Enemies
Disclaimers: All hail King Joss and his overlords at Mutant Enemy.
Spoilers: Hum…up to and including parts of Seasons 1-3 of Buffy, 1 of Angel
Summary: There’s *another* new guy in town, and he needs Angel’s help. No one is pleased.
Ratings Note: NC-17
Pairing: Wesley/Angel
Author's Note: I’ve intentionally mangled the events of Season 1 to my liking-so sue me. Wait! Um, just kidding Joss…I’m really a poor schoolteacher so don’t sue. Also, Lost Boys constitutes Part 1 of the Crossroads Series. You kind of have to read Lost Boys to get the whole "experience" but I suppose you could read this alone if you wanted.
Acknowledgments: Thanks to Katie and Graceless for the beta.
Feedback: scarletsfiction@yahoo.com
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The sun was no more than a smudge on the city skyline when Angel crawled from his bed to dress and join Gunn, Wesley, and Cordelia in the offices of Angel Inc. He moved slowly, his body bowed with exhaustion. For the fourth night--or day, by human standards--in two weeks he'd found sleep illusive. Memories of Wesley's body, Wesley's moans, interrupted his thoughts and made it impossible to clear his mind long enough to relax.

He'd made a mistake. That night in the kitchen had been a mistake. A wonderful, erotic, mind-blowing mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. He pulled a bag of blood from the refrigerator and transferred it to a mug, absently running a finger over the nearly empty container of orange juice Wesley had sipped from on that night, and turned to his microwave. He knew he should throw away the carton, but he had somehow avoided doing it for two weeks. While the blood warmed he replayed their kiss, feeling Wesley's skin under his hands all over again. He could still feel his lips on Wesley's chest, could hear the sound of Wesley's appreciative moans--

The microwave pinged its completion and he removed the warmed mug, drinking quickly. He was pretty sure it disgusted Gunn and Cordelia to watch him drink so he tried hard to be subtle. The fact that Wesley was upstairs, probably pouring over the newest book he'd acquired at Broadbents, had no bearing on the fact that he was still downstairs. He told himself it was easier this way; it was easier when he and Wesley were apart. The temptation was less when he couldn't see Wesley's face lighting up at a newly purchased codex, or laughing at Gunn and Cordelia's antics, or even setting his jaw firmly when talking about a course of action for their latest foe. The latter occurred infrequently, but on those rare occasions Angel would swear that for a moment he had a real and beating heart in his chest because he could feel heat issuing from the cold spot beneath his breast.

The ceiling above him squeaked and he heard footsteps moving from the small reception area to the office. It was time to join the others but still he waited, nursing the last of his blood. When he was sure Wesley would be deeply engrossed in research, he left his apartment and entered the office, carefully avoiding Wesley's eyes but trying desperately not to make it look as though he was avoiding him.

"I think we should hit the nest and--pow! Get them before they know what's happening," Gunn offered, punctuating his argument with a faux stake-thrust toward Wesley.

"I'll thank you not to wave that in my face, Gunn. As I was saying, if we wait until first light and enter through the tunnels we can be certain to keep escapees to a minimum. It makes good sense."

"It also means leavin' them to vamp another night. I say we get them before they have a chance to do more damage. What do you think, Angel?"

The vampire turned his gaze from Gunn to Wesely, then back again. "I think…that we should listen to…Cordelia!" he said suddenly, grasping the girl by the shoulders as she entered the room with a cup of coffee. "Save me," he hissed into her ear.

"No way, bub. This is Angel Inc., not Chase Inc. Though, Chase Inc. does have a nice ring to it... Anyway, you're the one getting paid the big bucks around here. You make the hard decisions. I'm just here to look fabulous and have the--and have the--Augh!"

Cordelia let out a scream and clutched her head as she dropped her cup of coffee onto the tiled floor. Angel grasped her before she could hit the ground and Wesley and Gunn were at her side in a moment.

"Cordelia, what is it? What do you see?" Angel smoothed her hair back.

"Bad…bad…" She pointed frantically with one hand while the other hand clenched at her hair.

"*Where* Cordelia? You must help us, dear. *Where* is the bad?" Wes gently coaxed.

She said nothing, only continued to point, panting through the pain.

"North?"

"…bad…big evil…big bad…"

"Where, Cordy. Help us out," Gunn hunched low, trying to meet her gaze while she pointed.

"San Francisco?

She shook her head, continuing to point north.

"Burbank?"

"…fr…frr…"

"Fresno?" Wesley offered. "Somewhere near Freemont?"

"…front…door…" she choked.

"I'm sorry, did you say--"

"FRONT DOOR, YOU IDIOTS!" she cried as the vision began to fade.

Angel winced, then met Wesley's eyes solemnly. They nodded to Gunn who grasped his stake. Angel helped Cordelia to her seat and then grabbed his favorite broadsword from the case on the wall. Cautiously, they made their way to the front door. Angel grasped the doorknob as Wesley and Gunn took a perch on each side of the entryway, ready to attack.

The vampire adjusted his grip on his sword, then pulled open the door quickly. Angel was prepared to fight vampires, werewolves, demons of all shapes, and even Jehovah's Witnesses if need be, but he was unprepared for what he found on his doorstep.

"Spike?"

The blond vampire struck his Zippo and put the flame to the tip of his cigarette, blowing acrid smoke into three shocked faces.

"Bloody well took you long enough to answer the door, Peaches," he said, taking another drag and morphing into gameface. "Lose your way?"

Chapter 2

No one moved for several seconds. It was Wesley who finally took charge.

"Get the chains from the cabinet, Gunn." As the dark-skinned man began to leave, Wesley added, "And the extra crossbow." He glared at Spike.

"Who's Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Poncy? Your new boy, Angel?

Angel growled low in his throat. "What are you doing here, Spike?"

"What? Can't I visit an old friend?"

"Not if it's an old friend you tried to *torture* just a couple of months ago!" Cordelia snapped from her place on the couch.

"Easy, princess. Angel doesn’t hold grudges. Do you, Peaches?" He blew a ring of smoke at Angel.

The dark-haired vampire smiled. "You have until Gunn comes back to convince me not to stake you on the spot. Otherwise, I'm telling Wesley here to get the broom."

"You never were much for foreplay, were you Angel? Fine." He dropped his cigarette to the ground and rubbed it under the heal of his shoe.

"GUNN?" Angel called menacingly.

"All right, all right. I've been livin' in Sunnydale." At Angel's suspicious look, he added, "Not on purpose, 'course. Not like I *wanted* to. It's a long story. Would kinda like to come in to tell it, if it's not too much bother," he said, clutching his hand to his chest with fake sincerity.

"We are NOT allowing that…*thing* to come in here," Gunn said, returning with the chains.

"Bite me, boy. I go where I want."

"Not in here you don’t," Gunn spat. "This here's an evil-free zone. You can't get in without an invite."

"Public place, you git. Can come in if I want!"

Gunn gave the vampire a head-to-toe stare. "Not if Angel doesn't give it the say-so. And we don't usually favor the short, nasty-ass, Billy Idol wannabe club members, either."

"Oh, you son of--"

The blond vampire lunged forward swinging. Before he'd taken three steps through the door, he began to scream. Clutching his head in a unwitting imitation of Cordelia minutes earlier, Spike fell to his knees. Taking no chances on a bluff, Gunn quickly chained the crouching vampire, momentarily concerned when he saw the tears pricking Spike's eyes. The vampire recovered quickly, however, and shook his head to clear his mind. Then he slapped on a leer worthy of the Big Bad.

"I claim the privileges of Tetrad." Though his arms were now bound, something in his voice held its own kind of menace and Wesley shivered.

"No," Angel responded.

"No? No! You can't just 'no' the Tetrad, Angel." Spike laughed bitterly at Angel from his place on the floor.

"I *can* and I *did*."

Spike shook his head slowly, a bitter snarl breaking his features. "I know you remember. I know *Angelus* remembers. Signed in blood, right? Bound in blood. You can't 'no' the Tetrad.

"What's a…a Tetris? Is it like the game?" Cordelia approached them on shaky legs.

"Tetrad. It means 'four'," Angel explained. "But the Tetrad was disbanded, and its power dissolved, when the Master was killed. I don't owe you anything." He appraised Spike's bound form, intrigued by the story still untold and suspicious of any action that would bring his wayward childe to his door. "We were warned about you," he added. "The Powers That Be thought we should be alerted."

"Don't suppose it was knocking around in that huge melon of yours that *I* might be the one in need?"

"No, Spike. It wasn't. And it still isn't, because nothing good can come…from helping…you." Angel punctuated his argument with a poke from his sword into the leather coat bound in chains along with the blond vampire. "And Cordelia had a vision. That means it's our job to keep you from hurting--" He turned to Cordelia. "--Who are we supposed to keep him from hurting?"

She screwed up her face. "It was kind of dark in my vision. There was a door, and Spike. It was all glass and I think there was a sign…maybe a plant…"

"Cordelia," Angel began. He took a deep breath, trying to hold his temper. "That's *our* front door. What *else* was in the vision? Think! Was it a human?"

"Don't tell me Bitchy Barbie here's the brains of this operation," Spike laughed, before being silenced by a swift kick from Gunn.

"I told you! It was dark and…there was just…the door." Cordelia looked apologetic.

"The door?" Angel asked. "That's it?"

"Yeah…Oh! And maybe a baby bird or something. A chick? Something about the chick? Maybe it *was* a girl!" She moved toward the bound vampire menacingly. "What have you done with her? We're going to play a little game. This is what I like to call Good Cop, Cordelia. You have no idea what kind of torture I can--"

"Er, thank you, Cordelia. I'm certain that Angel can handle it from here," Wesley jumped in.

"Right-o. Listen to Percy over there."

With infinite patience, Wesley said, "My name is Wesley Wyndam-Pryce and we've actually met once before, Spike. However, it's unlikely that you'll find me an ally since the last time we met I didn't care one iota about you and this time I care even less." He smiled calmly, then turned to Angel. "Shall I gag him, Angel? Or would you simply like him bound to a chair?"

Angel spared a moment of appreciation for his newest employee and his techniques before grasping the collar of Spike's coat. He roughly guided him to a chair and dropped him into it. "Talk. Or I'll have Gunn decide how you leave." Gunn smirked at Spike and the vampire gave him a two-finger salute.

"It's like this: there's this new group of soldier boys callin' themselves 'The Initiative' that have made Sunnydale their new favorite haunt. It's gotten so a demon can't find an honest days terror around that town--"

"Get to the part where I start to care, Spike." Angel said. "And get there fast."

"Fine, then. Came to town. Initiative caught me. Stuck a bit of metal in my head so's I can't hunt or feed anymore. Now I'm a pathetic waste of a vampire that can't even think bad thoughts about a bleedin' human 'fore the chip sets off. Can't take care of myself, so I decided it was my grandsire's job to do it, on account of the Tetrad and all. Done now."

"Chip!" Cordelia suddenly said. "Maybe it wasn't a 'chick'. It was a 'chip'?"

Spike affixed a nasty scowl to his face that would have had most humans slinking away. Angel, however, had the advantage of preternatural hearing and smell. For a creature that didn't need to breathe, Spike was panting shallowly--a sure sign that he was nervous. He was also releasing pheromones that Angel identified with fear. Whatever else Spike had lied about in the past, he wasn't lying now.

"This group," Wesley began. "Is it associated with the Watcher's Counsel?"

"Not even a bit, Percy. One hundred percent United States government sanctioned. They've been catching any demon they can get their tazers on, not just vamps. Saw one take out a Meorsla demon with one blow. Skinned her up nice and tidy like."

Wesley paled. Meorsla were peace-loving demons, noted for their supple scales.

"I don't know," Gunn began, clearly trying to get a rise out of Spike. "Seems to me the world would be a whole hell of a lot better with a few less demons in it. Gonna make an omelet, you gotta break some eggs, right? Maybe these Initiative folks have the right idea."

"I think Gunn's right," Angel said calmly.

Spike smirked. "Well, if you love the Initiative, you'd really like Buffy's new boyfriend." A tense silence suddenly settled over the room. Wes eyed Angel carefully but the vampire refused to move or blink. Only Spike seemed unperturbed. "What? I’m here with her blessing and everything. Her and the Watcher wanted me out of their little 'burg. That shock you?" He smirked, enjoying their discomfort.

Finally, Angel spoke. "Spike. The Tetrad is disbanded--"

"But you--"

"NO! Not another word out of your mouth or so help me I'll stake you with one of the office ficus plants. The Tetrad is disbanded, BUT…I will let you stay here, on *my* blood tab, for one week. Everyone that works here pulls his or her weight. Now, that includes you. If I don't feel you're making a contribution in one week, you're on the street nibbling rats out of dumpsters. Is that clear?" Spike eyed the three humans. "Is that *clear*?"

"Yeah. It's clear."

"Good."

"Will I get blood now?"

"What?" Angel asked, slightly confused.

"Will I get blood NOW?" Spike repeated as if talking to a child.

"Yes."

"Human?"

"No."

"I get to fight?"

"Yes."

"Can I use your sword?"

"No."

"What about Percy's sword?"

"No."

"What about health insurance?"

"Nice try. Wesley, unchain him." Angel set his sword carefully onto the counter.

"Angel, are you sure this is such a good idea," Wesley began, drawing the vampire aside, but Angel stopped him.

"No, I'm not. But we have one week to find out. He wouldn’t have claimed the privileges of the Tetrad if he wasn't serious, Wes. He wasn't exactly fond of the idea in the first place but Angelus could be…persuasive."

"I understand that. I'm just concerned that your feelings for Buffy are--"

"They're not."

"But Angel, it's not wrong to feel--"

"They're not, Wes. Just…just unchain him." Angel rubbed his temples slowly, trying to maintain his calm. He could feel his temper simmering just under the surface the way it always had in Spike's presence.

"So Angel," the blond vampire continued, "do I get a company car?"

"No."

"Paid vacation?"

"No."

"What kind of crap job *is* this then?"

"The kind where you shut up, fight demons, and don't get anyone killed."

"Well that's just…boring."

"And now it's your job for the next seven days. Get used to it. Cordy? Will you start heating Spike a bag of blood from my refrigerator? I'm going to make up the couch."

"Oi! I don't get a proper bed at least?"

"Spike? You are already on my last nerve. Don't test me."

Spike rolled his eyes but remained silent as Angel disappeared down into his apartment with Cordelia. Wes managed to release the lock on the chains that had bound the vampire and they clattered to the ground. As he gathered them loosely into his arms, Gunn stood watch, his body taught and ready to move should the vampire show any aggression.

"You sure this is a good idea?" Gunn asked Wesley.

"You heard Angel. He has every confidence in Spike. Though I don't know why," he added as he watched Spike immediately light a cigarette and blow smoke in their general direction. "I'm sure things will turn out fine, Charles."

"Charles? Charles? Oh, that's rich!" Spike said gleefully.

Gunn turned to the vampire menacingly. "You got a problem with my name? Something we should be talking about?"

"Not at all," Spike said magnanimously as he made his way across the room to follow where Angel had gone. "You know, I left a bag out on the porch. Be a mate and bring in for me, will you *Charles*? There's five quid in it for you if you do." He smirked, then took the stairs two at a time before he could see the single finger that Gunn offered to him.

"Call me when His Highness is gone. I'm outta here." Gunn left his weapon on the counter and then grabbed his keys. "Say goodnight to Cordy for me."

Once he was alone, Wesley set about replacing the weapons into the weapons chest. He could tell that there would be little work completed tonight. Fifteen minutes later, neither Angel, Cordelia, nor Spike had returned. He wasn't entirely surprised; with the return of Angel's old "hunting buddy", as it were, Wesley doubted whether there would be much work done at *all* this week.

Sighing, the Englishman shut the weapons cabinet gently. Perhaps Gunn had the right idea. Pulling on his jacket, Wesley prepared to return home. Just as he was searching for his own keys, Angel reappeared.

"You're leaving?"

"I don't believe you'll be needing my services tonight, Angel. Gunn has already left but please feel free to call either of us should you need our help before tomorrow."

"Wes--" Angel began, then stopped.

"It's all right, Angel. You have responsibilities here. I—We understand." Smiling weakly, Wesley left the office.

Angel stood alone in the room for several minutes. The look on Wesley's face before he left…he'd seen that once before--in the kitchen. Though that time Angel had been the one to leave. Cursing his own foolishness, Angel returned to the apartment where a heated debate was underway.

"Did too! Every day. Didn't miss it," Spike said from his perch on the back of the couch.

"Giles did *not* watch Passions."

"I'm telling you, I had him converted."

"Tell me the part about Xander again."

"Working on an ice cream truck last I heard."

"Oh, that's *rich*," Cordelia said joyfully. "Not that I *want* Xander to have a useless job and no life, but as the scorned ex-girlfriend I'm allowed to gloat at his utter lack of love and material worth."

"I wouldn't be speakin' so fast, Princess. No offense, but he's found himself a right and proper dish."

"A what?"

"A bint. A bird." Cordy continued to stare at him in confusion. "A girlfriend. Tasty little demon with a penchant for fellatio if my ears didn't deceive me--"

"--I think that's enough of a stroll down Memory Lane for one night," Angel interrupted. "Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn already left. You can knock off early if you want."

"Are you telling me that Xander--"

"Cordy? Home? Now?"

Cordelia nodded, clearly surprised. "Wow. And here I always thought he was gay. My gaydar is usually right on. Weird. And kinda disturbing. What if I'm losing my touch? What if," she said, getting nervous, "the visions have somehow neutralized my gift?"

"Yes, that would be a tragic loss, Cordy. Go. Home."

"Right." With a bewildered look on her face, Cordelia left the apartment and Angel was alone with Spike.

"I always did like her. She's spunky." Spike took a pull on his cigarette, blowing smoke at Angel.

"Did you finish the blood she gave you?

"Yes, mum. And all my peas and carrots too. Wanker."

"Spike…" Angel warned.

"Yes, I finished the blood."

"Good. You can have more tomorrow. Sleep now."

"Sleep? Now? It's prime hunting time, Angel. Aren't you, you know, ready for a spot of violence? Want to hit the sewers? Shake things up?"

"No, I want to sleep. Now."

"Oh, right. You and you're crew have probably had a tough day. They looked a bit haggard and sickly. you you working them too hard?" Angel ignored him as he prepared for bed. "Worked *one* hard at least," Spike taunted and slipped off of the couch, then ran his hand over the back.

"Spike--"

"--Not here, though he did spend time here…maybe sleeping, just like me tonight." The vampire circled the small apartment, coming to stand near Angel's bed. His voice was low, smooth like honey. "And certainly not here. No, *nothing* good would happen here, would it?" Spike sniffed the air while Angel looked on. "But here…" He stopped in the kitchen, tilting his nose to the ceiling and closing his eyes. "Yes, right here. He came right here, didn't he? Tell me, Angel. Did he scream when he came? Was it because you were so good…or was it because you were so, *so* bad?"

"Spike--"

"--Angel? Only one scent here. One *important* scent, that is. What's the matter? Couldn't get Little Angelus to come out and play? Or *wouldn't*?"

Angel was gritting his teeth. It took everything he had not to beat his incorrigible childe{there you go with the e. now I don’t know which one is right} into a bloody pulp, but he held his ground.

"Seven days. That's all you have. I suggest you make the most of them." Angel turned out the light and slipped into bed, leaving Spike standing alone in the kitchen. "Goodnight, Spike," he called cheerfully.

"Wanker."

Chapter 3

"Wesley, he took my Nutter Butters."

"I did not! Don't even eat your bloody human food."

"Listen, Chips Ahoy Spike, you better give a man back his Nutter Butters before I break out some serious nasty on your ass."

"Don't know why you like them things. Figured you more for an Oreo man myself. Black on the outside, all sweet and squishy on the inside—"

Gunn landed a satisfying punch to the side of Spike's face.

"Oh, you bloody wanker--" Spike lunged at Gunn, but found himself crashing to the ground and clutching his head.

"I *told* you not to mess with a man's cookies. Now look at you." Spike was moaning slightly, still in the throes of his headache. "You just keep trying and it just keeps knocking you back. It's entertaining, really. It's like housebreaking. How many times does it take for the puppy not to shit on the carpet? Hum? "

"Don't know," Spike gasped. "How many bald punks it take to be worth a damn to anyone?"

Gunn tried to strike at Spike again.

"Gunn, don't tease the undead. We have work to do," Wesley ordered without looking up.

"Tell me you have news," Angel said as he entered the Angel Inc. offices.

"Yes and no," Wesley admitted, grateful to talk to anyone but the two men at the table who'd spent the last half hour arguing about biscuits. "The demon in Cordelia's vision won't rise for another three days as far as I can tell, but I can't be sure. There's a codex that I think would help, but I'll have to get it tonight. It's unlikely I'll find it in the regular bookstores, either. I'm afraid I may have visit a few stores in a rather seedy part of town; I don't think it would be wise for me to go alone. Will you be able to accompany me?"

Angel looked apologetic. "I'm sorry, Wes. Nalana has another appointment set up for me--"

"No, I understand. Whatever it is you're doing with this woman must be important. I'll just ask Gunn to accompany me."

"And me, too!" Spike added, not to be outdone. "Not like he's going to be much use. He doesn't know a broadsword from Broadway."

The air began to ripple and the scent of ozone filled the air. In moments, Nalana stepped through a portal, trilling for the dark-haired vampire.

"Aaangeeell."

With a pained glance at Wesley and the two arguing men, Angel took Nalana's arm and let her lead him through the portal. When he was at last gone, Wesley sighed heavily.

"Wesley, Gunn stole my smokes! They were right here on the table--"

"Why would I want those nasty-ass things?"

"So *I* couldn't have them, that's why. Oi! Wesley, Gunn gave me the finger…"

Wesley sighed again. It appeared that this was going to be a very, very long night.

*****

Exhausted and at his breaking point, Wesley left the third bookstore of the night empty-handed with two men in tow.

"I’m not the one that's been here four days and managed to get stabbed by a Treabla demon not once, but twice," Gunn gloated.

"Percy, inform Gunn that I don't want to speak with him." Spike searched his pocket for non-existent smokes. "And while we're talkin' about fighting, you put your bloody battle-ax on my duster last night--covered in Mosh'haku blood!"

"I didn't think you'd care, Spike. After all, you used my favorite UCLA mug for microwaving blood and then put it back in the cupboard without washing it."

"It's not *your* mug now, is it? Belongs to Angel."

"It doesn't matter. Everyone knows it's *my* mug."

"Not like *you're* gonna be heading off to UCLA any time soon."

Gunn tried to land a punch, but the vampire managed to dodge it.

"Will you two SHUT UP?" Wesley yelled, speeding up his pace and trying hard to leave the bickering men behind him. Gunn and Spike were silent after their dressing down. Wesley relaxed minutely until he heard a soft voice behind him.

"You're fault. Now he's mad."

"It's your fault." There was a long pause, then Gunn added, "Plus you ate the last jelly donut even though I called it."

"You can go out and get more donuts," Spike protested, raising his voice. "It's not like *I* can pop over to bloody Dunkin Donuts for a jelly in the middle of the day. You're the one that took my smokes. And I *know* you've been trying to pass off my favorite stake as your own. Not to mention that you stole my favorite comb--" He cast a quick glance to the smooth curve of Gunn's head. "Okay, maybe that one wasn't actually you."

"Gentlemen," Wesley began, "and I use that term loosely, would you two be so kind as to ask this last proprietor for the Feori Codex before I call Angel on his mobile and ask him to kill you both?" He smiled sweetly.

"Right. We've got the next one. Just hang tight, Wes." Gunn gestured for the vampire to follow him into the last bookstore. It was hardly noticeable as a business of any sort. The paint was peeling off of the building and the faded side that had once proclaimed it to be the "Weston Book House" was now so weathered as to be nearly indistinguishable.

Wesley lounged against a streetlight and sighed deeply. He was upset, and not just because of the near-constant bickering that had permeated their lives in the last four days. Angel was as distant as ever and he continued to offer no explanation for his mysterious disappearances with Nalana. Instead of dwelling on the details of their painful non-relationship, Wesley let his mind drift to more pleasant matters. He replayed the night in his head. Their night. Angel's mouth on his cock, his own body spread wide over the cold linoleum as Angel's tepid body somehow warmed him. Angel's mouth and strong fingers kneading the skin of his hips painfully…

"Stupid git! I told you to stay quiet. Told you I could handle it!"

"Yeah, you were handling it just fine with him holding you up by your testicles and all."

"I could have gotten out of it. I was just about to break his wrist."

"That's not what it looked like."

Wesley eyed the two men as they left the store. Gunn was holding a thick, leather-bound book triumphantly while Spike was…covered in a vile, purple slime.

"Shenabri," he explained. "Didn't want to sell your precious book, but we convinced him."

"Yeah, I 'convinced' him into tiny pieces," Gunn said. "Can we go home now?"

Wesley was only too happy to oblige him.

Chapter Four

Cordelia had locked the door and was just preparing to leave when Angel teleported in.

"Good timing. Spike and Gunn are talking to that guy at the all-night magic shop over on Santa Monica that sells those protection spells you asked about-they should be back in a couple of h-and-and the new business card arrived and there's fresh blood in the fridge and I had another vision." Angel looked concerned. "Not a biggie. I'm fine. Vamps. Nest. Yadda, yadda, yadda. We can hit it tomorrow. Is it just me, or are the vamps in this neighborhood getting more 'family oriented'? That's the fourth Vamp Vision I've had this week. I think Spike is some sort of undead magnet. We never used to get so many vamp alerts."

"He's got a reputation. Spike's good at killing his own kind. Kind of a gift."

"Yeah, well you'll have to convince Gunn and Wesley of that."

"It's not my job to convince them. I'll leave that up to the PTBs." A cool breeze raised goose bumps on the back of Angel's neck and he rubbed the skin absently.

"Anyway, there are also three messages for you by the phone and a receipt for dry cleaning that Spike left. Something about his coat? Oh, and Wes is in his office but be nice to him; I think he's had a rough night." Cordelia left the front of the office and Angel wandered back to find Wesley.

The Englishman was at a table, deeply engrossed in his latest purchase.

"Can I join you?" Angel slipped off his coat and laid it across a chair.

"If you wish, although I've only the one copy at the moment."

"I can share," Angel offered and pulled a chair next to Wesley at the table. The ex-Watcher slid the huge book toward the vampire and they each took a page.

"If my calculations are correct, we're looking for a Re'hetlor demon. Cordelia said that it looked 'fishy' although I'm not certain if she meant the demon or the human it was trying to sacrifice."

Angel chuckled. "Her visions aren't exactly clear as glass, are they?"

"No, not at all. Take Spike, for example…" Wesley trailed off, looking for Angel's reaction.

"He doesn't really get along with anyone around here, does he?"

"That, I'm afraid, would be an understatement. The bickering has increased tenfold in the last twenty-four hours."

"I'm sorry, Wesley. I really am. But if Cordelia had a vision of him and it wasn't of the 'bite and suck' variety, then I have to believe that he needs our help and that he belongs here, however strange that sounds."

"I know that, Angel. And that is why I've tried to be patient, but his presence here has unnerved all of us--especially Gunn. I'm sure that Spike is trying in his own way but can you say, with any degree of certainty, that the Powers That Be intend on making him a regular part of our contingent? Or is this simply a case of you feeling remorseful for past deeds and striving blindly to heal old wounds?"

Angel's jaw tightened visibly, but his voice was calm. "The Powers want Spike here. I know he hasn't been much help and it's hard to see his purpose now, but I feel like the Powers will show us their design for Spike when they're ready. And until then, we have to be patient. If it helps, I'm really sorry that you had to deal with both of them tonight. It shouldn't happen again." Angel sat silently, staring blankly at the page.

"What is it, Angel? What's wrong? Did things not go as you expected at your latest 'interview'?"

"You could say that. I don't think…" Angel suddenly realized how close Wesley was. The Englishman had removed his jacket and rolled up his sleeves. His arm was resting on the table next to Angel's. The vampire moved his arm closer, feeling the heat from Wesley's arm enter his own cool flesh. "…I think I may be wasting my time. You know?"

"No, I don't know, Angel," Wesley said shortly as he stared at the book. "I don't know, because you still refuse to tell any of us exactly what it is you do when you leave with this *woman*." It sounded like an accusation and Angel smiled despite himself.

"You're jealous."

Wesley remained silent, turning the pages of the book.

"You don't need to be."

"Look, Angel, I understand that you regret what happened when I first arrived and I'm trying to--"

"No! No, I don't regret what happened, Wes." Angel moved his arm the last distance and placed his palm over Wesley's. "I made a mistake but…I'd make it again. I…" The vampire's thoughts were confused. Wesley's scent was in his nose the same way it was that night. Warm and spicy and indescribably appealing. He stroked the hand, delighted when he felt Wesley shiver. "Do you want the truth?"

"I think I'm entitled to it," Wesley whispered as his eyes sank shut. Angel's hand was doing lovely things to his wrist now. He knew he should remove himself from the situation but he was transfixed by the sensations being drawn out on the delicate bones.

"It's not a big secret, Wesley. Nalana is trying to help me fix the curse. I've been meeting with demons, aurors, magi…anyone she could introduce me to. They all have a way to do it but not without greater risk than I'm willing to take. A permanent soul at the cost of three limbs, or a newborn infant, or something worse... I'm frustrated Wes, and I'm tired of having to worry about this alone, but I haven't found anything even mildly hopeful yet. I think Gunn and Cordelia both know that I've been looking into it since before Doyle died. God, I know I should talk with them about it, but I don't want to get their hopes up." Angel scrubbed his hands across his tired eyes.

"And why would it get *their* hopes up," Wesley said with a trace of bitterness. He slid his arm out of Angel's grasp and folded his hands neatly in his lap. "It seems that neither Gunn nor Cordelia would receive the benefits of that particular change--unless I'm mistaken and you offer to fellatiate all of your staff members?"

"Wes, I--"

"No, Angel," Wesley began, "Look, I've been silent this whole time and I think I deserve more of an explanation. You started something and then you left that night. You left and I had to pick of the fragments of my shattered ego well enough to work with you day after day—and I *have*. You cannot return to that same place without an explanation. If you experience a moment of true happiness, then you revert to Angelus and I understand that. But you've not even tried to *talk* with me about it. To discuss it in any form. I could *help*. I could be a part of this, yet you disregard me at every turn. As a result I must assume that you are deeply regretful about what happened. And--" he went on, despite Angel's protests. "And now you feel this woman may be able to fix your curse in some way? Good for you. I hope it works out and that you're able to 'knock boots', as Gunn is so fond of saying. I only hope that when you find someone you *truly* care about, you are more communicative with that person." Angel looked thoroughly chastised and Wesley felt a brief pang of guilt. "Now, if you'll excuse me, we have a demon rising in just under three days and I'd like to be prepared."

"The Rolling Stones."

Wesley looked at Angel speculatively. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

"The Rolling Stones? They're a band. They have this song, '…I can't get no--'"

"'Satisfaction'. Yes, I'm familiar with the song. What does that have to do with anything?"

"My life," Angel said, standing and pacing, "is like that line in every way. Nalana and I have been able to locate more information on the original gypsy curse and 'happiness' seems to be directly connected to 'satisfaction.' So--"

Wesley smiled tiredly. "--Hence, your premature departure."

"Yes."

Removing his glasses, Wesley rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Angel, you could have told me. You could have--"

"What, Wes? Told you not to touch me? Not to hold me?" He towered over the seated man and dropped his hand to Wesley's face. "Told you that just feeling your body under mine, hearing you moan, for one more minute would have made me come? Would have brought Angelus screaming to the surface? I want the demon world, not people I love, to fear me."

"Angel…"

The vampire seemed shocked by his admonition. "I'm sorry, I should let you get back to your book. And I'll talk to Gunn and Spike about the fighting."

"Angel," Wesley began again, then stopped. Slowly he stood up and kissed the vampire before Angel could protest. Sliding one hand around the back of Angel's head, he opened his mouth and toyed with the crease of Angel's lips until the vampire opened his mouth and met the questing tongue.

"Wes, what are you doing?" Angel gasped when the Englishman finally released his lips.

"Come with me, Angel," Wesley whispered, pulling him toward the stairs that led to the apartment below. "Be with me."

"Wesley, you know this is a bad idea. I can't--"

"Then we'll stop. We won't let it get that far," Wesley said reasonably.

"And if it *does*? If it gets to a place that I can't come back from, what then?"

"It won't."

"But if it does?" Angel's eyes were dilating wide, pools of dark honey that made Wesley's legs weak and his cock hard.

"If it does…" Wesley's eyes raked Angel's body, "…then I'll deal with that when it happens."

Angel stopped then and Wesley feared he'd gone too far, that he'd selfishly press{ed} the vampire too much. Then Angel was pushing him against the wall, plundering his mouth and working one hand at his belt. Wesley managed to free himself and drag Angel the last of the way to the apartment and across the worn carpet to the bed.

"Lie down, Wesley," Angel requested.

Wesley complied and pulled the vampire with him, then began pulling at Angel's shirt.

"Wait. You can't--just…don't." The vampire pushed gently at the searching hands, then turned his attention to Wesley. He removed the other man's shirt slowly, pulling it from his body with infinite care. Next, he worked at his shoes and socks, dropping them to the floor. Finally, he removed Wesley's pants, feeling his own cock grow harder at the sight of the bulge behind the Englishman's underwear. He reverently removed the garment and then let his eyes feast on Wesley's body.

"Kiss me, Angel." Spoken so soft that a human might not have heard it, but Angel did. He kissed Wesley then, running his hands over the smooth, scarred chest and belly below him. Wesley arched up, bringing his cock into contact with Angel's palm. The vampire wasted no time in taking it into his hand and stroking gently. Wesley shuddered and gasped into Angel's mouth. "How are you doing?" he whispered, watching Angel's hand slide over his erection while appraising the bulge in Angel's own trousers.

"I'm all right. Better than all right." Angel smiled.

It was an odd sight, one Wesley had seen only rarely. It sent his pulse racing and Angel responded accordingly, smiling wider, squeezing firmly, and sliding his hand quickly over Wesley. In another half-dozen strokes, the Englishman was climaxing into a cool hand and gasping the vampire's name. He watched Angel lick at his own hand, tasting the fluid there. Then Angel slipped off of the bed and returned minutes later with a warm washcloth.

Wesley was satiated but silent.

"What's wrong, Wesley? Are you--was it not--"

"No! Angel, that was wonderful. Truly. I'm just disappointed that you aren't able to experience this. That you," he said, pulling Angel into his arms while the vampire cleaned him, "aren't able to feel *my* hands on *you*. You won't be able to feel me drawing you to climax, slipping into your body, letting you slide into mine…" He let his hand drift under Angel's shirt, stroking gently at a nipple.

"You are a dangerous man, Wesley Wyndam-Pryce," Angel chuckled, then dropped the cooling washcloth on Wesley's face.

Wesley flung the cloth to the floor, then grinned and kissed the vampire's neck. "You have no idea…" Angel stroked his hair as his pulse began to slow. The silence stretched out long and perfect. Wesley's mind ran from one thought to the next.

"No perfect happiness. No satisfaction," he mused quietly.

"Right."

"Well I suppose," Wesley said at last, "we should take what we can get."

*****

Angel lay listening to Wesley breathing until he was sure he was close to drifting off. He could feel his arousal waning, his cock now soft. He'd dodged another bullet and he felt lucky, but it couldn’t keep happening. As cliché as it sounded, he was playing with fire. Being with Wesley was like a wonderful game of Russian Roulette. Wesley was ready to play--which was no surprise to him. The scars were evidence of a recent reckless past. He wondered when Wesley would be willing to share that past with him.

"Angel?"

The vampire was startled. "I thought you were asleep."

"I could feel you brooding," he chuckled. " I was wondering something."

"Yes?" He drew the Englishman closer to him, wrapping his arms around Wesley's torso.

"Why is this woman, Nalana, doing this for you? You said she owed you a favor?"

"Funny story, actually. I introduced her to her lover."

"Angel, the matchmaker?"

"Something like that."

"And her lover? How did you know him? Her?"

"Him. He was a client, actually." Angel could feel Wesley relax further as he spoke. "Human. He was being blackmailed; we helped him with his case. Nalana was an old friend with a taste for humans, David liked things 'exotic' as well, and they hit it off."

"It sounds romantic." Wesley yawned.

"I suppose it was. They're very happy." Wesley's soft snores began to echo in the small apartment. Kissing his forehead, Angel slipped from the bed, mentally preparing an excuse for Spike as to why he had to sleep somewhere else tonight.

"Angel?"

"Yes?" The vampire penned a quick note and began searching for tape.

"Tell me about the Tetrad. You claimed it was disbanded, yet Spike's willingness to claim it's asylum was enough to unnerve you."

Angel was quiet again, searching for the right words that would explain the twisted past that surrounded his life before Los Angeles.

"Hold on." Having found the tape, Angel attached a note to the door of his apartment. Then, he crawled back into bed, wrapping his arms around Wesley and tucking his mouth below the Englishman's ear. "It was the Master's idea, though the only reason we considered it was because of Dru."

"You're referring to Drusilla?"

"Yes. It was…" Angel sighed, trying to remember the exact date, "maybe 1888, 1889? Summer. Drusilla got sick, Spike wouldn’t leave Budapest without her. We tried everything, but there was no medicine, no antidote that could help her. Drusilla's dementia was as worse as it had ever been; it was hardest on Spike. She would forget us, forget him. She'd wander to the sunlight or into a church. She risked exposing us all and Darla wanted to leave her behind, but…she was family. Finally, Darla sent word to the Master and he replied with the perfect remedy. It wasn't a drug or a potion, it was a ceremony."

"Tetrad." Wesley was growing sleepy, his voice thick and low.

"Yes. 'The Four Become One.' It's the magic equivalent of the whole being greater than the sum of its parts. We were bound together, our strengths merged, our power multiplied—eventually."

"Eventually?"

"The ceremony is long—and draining. It's most difficult on the being with the most power, in our case, me. My strength, the strength of the strongest vessel, was tapped in order to build up the others—head, heart, and hands. There are actually several derivations of the Tetrad; different demon species have their own translation. In nearly all cases, though, the ceremony leaves the vessel weakened. We didn't think that was a problem—Drusilla was already weak. If drawing from me temporarily would make her stronger indefinitely, then it was worth it."

"Healing his lover with your help? I can't see Spike accepting the Master's plan."

"He didn't. Told him he could take care of Dru on his own and then told him where he could stick his Tetrad. But then Dru got weaker and Spike realized he'd have to choke it up if he wanted to see her well." Angel pulled Wesley's body closer, breathing deeply into his hair to catch his scent. "The ceremony went off flawlessly; we thought we'd be ready to leave Budapest by dawn."

"'Thought'. That doesn’t sound promising."

Angel snorted bitterly. "I underestimated the Master's influence—and Darla's allegiance. I was weak while she was strong—as strong as she'd ever been. She attacked me after midnight with a bit o' oak and a long list of lamentations."

Wesley smiled to himself. Nearing sleep, Angel was slipping in and out of a subtle brogue without noticing it.

"One must assume that she did *not* kill you, so tell me how you were able to escape from her clutches."

"Spike. And Drusilla, oddly enough. There's not much of a story there; they woke when they heard her screaming, and chased her from the barn we were hiding in with promises of eminent death of she ever showed her face again."

"Good heavens. Angel—"

"It wasn't the first time she'd tried to kill me, Wes. And it wasn't the last. Our relationship was…complicated."

"I should say so."

Angel was thoughtful for a long time. "Darla returned in the fall. But that summer—the summer the three of us spent in Budapest—was…even more complicated. But good. And strange." Angel pressed his lips to Wesley's hair, tightening his grip around the thin man. "Together, the four of us were strong. We left a path of destruction through Europe that hasn't been matched in over a century. When the Master was killed, I was relieved more than I could ever tell Buffy. I felt…"

"Your legacy of death was finished," Wesley stated simply.

"Yeah…Yes. Part of it, at least." Angel smiled into the darkened room. "And that's the end of the story."

"Until now. Until this week," Wesley reminded him.

"Since that night, the night Darla tried to kill me in Budapest, I've been waiting for my debt to be claimed. Spike never mentioned it again, though. When Darla returned, things were odd and awkward and I expected him to bring it up then but he didn't. A decade later, a century later, I kept expecting Spike to demand restitution but…nothing. Nothing until now. The Master is dead and gone, but the debt remains unpaid. I can't send him away, Wesley." The vampire pulled himself up onto his arms so that he could peer into Wesley's sleepy face. "No matter how much he annoys me, no matter how much he and Gunn fight, I owe him this. The fact that he waited so long to claim repayment tells me…there's a reason he's scared Wes. I'm the last one to play the Pity Fiddle for Spike, but …I owe him."

"Angel, it's *fine*." Wesley pressed his hands to the sides of Angel's cheeks. "I understand. I find Spike distasteful and thoroughly loathsome, but I recognize the truth in what you said earlier. The Powers That Be make things know in their time and in their way. I have learned to trust that. And I trust *you*."

The vampire left a tender kiss on Wesley's mouth. "Then I guess the only one left to convince is Gunn." After kissing Wesley in a manner that left the Englishman completely breathless and utterly alert, Angel rolled to his side and pulled Wesley around him. "Do you think those two will ever get along?"

"I suppose," Wesley yawned, "that it's possible. Just as it's possible that Cordelia will begin shopping at K-Mart."

"But not likely," Angel chuckled, finally drifting close to sleep.

"No. Not likely."

Chapter 5

"No."

"Yes."

"No!"

"Yes!"

"They are *not* real!"

"Are *too* real! Tell him, Angel," Spike demanded as Angel walked into the office.

"Tell Gunn what?"

"Tell 'im the wee elves that live in the trees and make cookies are *real*."

"I'm not getting in the middle of this."

"Tha's 'cause you know I'm right."

"E.L. Fudge is not a real person, Spike," Gunn protested hotly. "It's just a cartoon character--"

"—Based on a *real* demon. He's an Uperta. They're native to Britain and they make sweets. Tell 'im, Angel!"

The vampire sighed but didn't answer.

"What? What is it, Angel?" Gunn said as he finished polishing his favorite ax. When Angel didn't answer, he said, "No. No! You're serious?"

"They don't *just* make sweets…" Angel defended weakly. "Sometimes they, you know…leave curses."

Gunn covered his ears. "La-la-la…I'm not hearing this. I'm not hearing this…"

Spike scowled happily. "See? I was RIGHT! You owe me ten quid. Pay up."

"Just because you were right does *not* make you smarter than me." Gunn continued to cover his ears.

"Oi! I was *right*! You have to pay!"

"What are the Bicker Babies up to today?" Cordelia asked as she came into the office and slung her purse over her chair.

"More of the same," Angel responded with a sigh. Apparently, the "talk" he'd given each of them hadn't worked. He smiled reassuringly at Wesley, who sat between them.

"Cordelia. If a bloke makes a bet and wins it fair and square, the other bloke should have to pay up, don't you think?"

"It depends. What was the bet?"

"He bet that he was smarter than me." Gunn turned to the blonde. "And knowing that E.L. Fudge is real does *not* make you smarter than me. It just makes you older than me."

"You two are beyond the help of--of any--" Cordelia clutched her head. Spike was at her side to catch her as she began to fall.

"Easy, love. Ride it out…what do you see?"

"Vamps…nest of them…looks like the west…no, the south tunnels…they have a homeless man trapped there…"

"Right love. We're on it, don't fret."

"Wes, Gunn? Grab the crossbows. Suit up." Angel began searching for his sword.

"South tunnels," Gunn mused. "That's Goldie's area. If it's a nest, we could use the help."

"We're not calling your little friends, Charles," Spike said, enjoying the way Gunn squirmed when he called him by his first name. "We don't need more cannon fodder."

"Goldie knows what he's doing," Gunn said defensively. "Are you worried he might make a mistake and you'll leave the sewer the same way as all the other shit?" He grinned when he saw the vampire wince.

"Enough!" Angel slammed his sword on the table. "Spike, you're with me. We take the tunnels and meet up under Fifth Street. Gunn and Wesley are topside. We'll call Goldie if we need help—*after* we've assessed the situation. Fair?"

The vampire and human nodded grudgingly.

"Good. Let's move."

*****

Wesley luxuriated in the quiet of Gunn's pickup truck. There'd been precious little silence in the days since Spike had joined them. He used the solitude to reflect on Angel and their night together.

When he'd woken, the bed was empty. Fearful, at first, that Angelus had returned despite their precautions (foolish though they were) Wesley's fears had been put to rest when the dark-haired vampire had returned with orange juice.

He knew it was reckless of him to have seduced Angel like that. To have initiated something so foolhardy. What had he been thinking? That was the problem—he *hadn't* been thinking. He'd not let it happen again. Not until Nalana had found a solution. And if that meant that there was never going to be an opportunity to be with Angel, then he'd live with that ache as he'd lived with countless others. The important thing was simply being *with* Angel. The words that Angel had let slip had nothing to do with his decision, he told himself, and his own yearnings even less.

"Do you think it will be a big nest?" Gunn asked, parking the truck on Fifth Street.

"I don't know. You're more familiar with this area."

"It's probably big." Wesley waited for Gunn to speak the inevitable. "We should have called Goldie," he blurted. They splashed into the sewer entrance and began following the tunnels.

"You only want to ask your friends to join us because you know that Spike doesn’t. The interaction between you two is truly juvenile, Charles."

"Juvenile? Me and Spike? Naw, we're just speakin' our minds like rational adults. You and Angel? That's another story."

Wesley slowed, then stopped. "What do you mean, 'you and Angel'?"

"Hey, Wes. It's cool. You know *I* don't mind. It's just…I don't think you two is something that will ever end happy. At least, not as things are. You're both cruisin' for heartbreak and I hate to see that happen to my friends."

Wesley smiled at Gunn's use of the endearment. Yes, they were friends. Good friends. "Wait, how did you know Angel and I were--"

"Spike."

"Spike?"

"Yeah, he could smell you two the first night he was here. He's been torturing Cordy and I with the gruesome details ever since then."

Wesley was grateful for the darkness of the tunnel. It masked the bright blush on his cheeks. "I—I—"

"Hey, I told you. It's cool. Maybe you could ask Angel if he'll talk to Spike though. Cordy almost staked him when he told her you come like a Banshee."

"I—I do nothing of the sort!" Wesley sputtered.

"He's just trying to get a rise out of everyone, Wes. Calm down. Damn, the sooner this week is over, the better. That guy just gets under your skin, you know?" Gunn scowled as they splashed through the shallow water."

"Angel says that the Powers have a purpose for him here. I believe he thinks Spike would make a good addition to our team."

"Spike? He's caused more trouble than he's started!"

"He's also another able-bodied fighter on our team, Gunn."

"Ug! I don't want to think about his able-bodied…anything. We don't need him. We'll never need him. Period."

"Don’t you think *that's* rather juvenile, Charles?"

"Hold up. I think I see them." Gunn squinted through the tunnel. Up ahead, Angel and Spike were crouched at the opening of a tunnel. Angel waved them over while Spike simply held up two fingers. Wesley and Gunn joined them at the entrance and squatted low. Fingering his ax carefully, Gunn tried to peer down the tunnel, but could see nothing. "Are you sure they're there?"

"Yeah. There's six of them, maybe more," Angel answered. His supernatural vision allowed him to see the vamps and the small, frail man trussed at their feet.

"Well let's go, then," Gunn said, raising his ax.

"You're taking that?" Spike asked, eyeing the weapon.

"You got a problem with Betsy here?"

Spike snorted. "These are *vampires*? Pointy teeth? Go 'poof' when they get kabobbed through the heart?" He held up the stake he was carrying for good measure. "What kind of daft git brings an ax to kill vampires?"

"Please, Spike. Will you be quiet?" Wesley begged. "I'd rather they not hear us just yet."

"Decapitation works just as good as a stake through the heart," Gunn protested. "And dust is dust."

"Yeah, but a stake's more portable. Don't have the cleaning bill that goes with an ax, neither."

"Spike! Shut up!" Angel ordered, moving swiftly down the tunnel. The others followed at a discreet pace. As they drew closer, even Gunn and Wesley were able to make out the demons and their human prey.

"All I'm sayin' is that an ax is a bloody stupid weapon to bring into a vamp fight and I think I’m allowed an opinion since I *am* a vamp--" Spike was silenced when Angel's hand wrapped around his mouth roughly. Then the older vampire flung him forcefully into the tunnel. Sensing the intruder, the vampires immediately pounced on Spike while Gunn, Angel, and Wesley swarmed them.

They'd counted six vampires--at first--and the guess had been accurate--at first. Wesley felt his muscles sing as they always did in battle. His skill with the crossbow was unmatched by few except Angel and he dusted one vampire before they'd even breached the tunnel. Angel made ready work of another and Wesley moved in to battle with a fourth.

On the other side of the tunnel, a fight had broken out. Unfortunately, though it was between a human and a vampire, it did not involve a vampire they were there to kill.

"I *had* that one and you let it get away!" Spike accused, while holding a squirming vamp in a half nelson. Gunn was swinging his ax at another vampire.

"I did *not*. That was all you, buddy."

"You *tripped* me!"

"It's a *sewer*! You have to watch where you're stepping."

"Oh! You little…" Knowing he couldn't hurt Gunn without the chip going off, Spike turned his aggression to the restrained vamp, staking him with a swift, satisfactory plunge. Without Spike to distract him, Gunn made short work of the last vamp and watched as the beheaded corpse burst into dust.

"See? I told you an ax worked just as fine as…as…"

"As?" Spike turned slowly to see what Gunn was looking at. Across the room, Wesley and Angel were done fighting, brushing vampire dust off of their clothes as the homeless man scurried down the tunnel they'd just arrived from. Then he watched them turn to the other side of the junction where no less than a dozen more vampires were streaming in.

"Oh--" Spike began.

"--Shit," Gunn finished.

Wesley readied his crossbow again, striking out at the first vampire he came in contact with. The fight became brutal and they found themselves unevenly matched. A dozen vampires against two vampires and two humans was unfair to begin with and the two humans were already winded. Still, they fought on.

Bickering aside, Gunn and Spike threw themselves into the battle. The largest vampire took an interest in Gunn and the human found himself battling fiercely to defend himself. Wesley and Angel both dusted several and turned their attention to cutting a swath through the vampire bodies and toward Gunn, who had sustained a nasty cut to the head. It was bleeding profusely and drawing more attention from their unwanted foes.

Fearing for Gunn, both Wesley and Angel fought harder, trying to help their friend. The air was alive with dust, the tiny motes swirling in odd patterns in the almost nonexistent light from a storm drain above. After what felt like hours, they were able to get close enough to Gunn to assist him with the large vampire that had nearly succeeded in killing him. Wesley loaded his crossbow and delivered the killing stake with little flourish. The vampire burst into a dust cloud and the fighters spared themselves a brief moment of relief before turning to fight the remaining vampires. What they found stunned them all.

Spike had made the mistake of calling out insults to the demons as they approached him and, as a result, found himself outnumbered. He didn't seem concerned, however.

"You want a piece of me? Oh, yeah? Yeah, you want a piece of me. I can tell. Well come on and get it…" Each comment was punctuated by a thrust of the stake or a dodged blow.

Gunn tried to move forward to help Spike, but a gentle hand on his shoulder held him back.

"Wait," Wesley said breathlessly. "Watch. Learn."

They watched as Spike took down two vampires simultaneously, then dipped low to avoid the blow of a third. As he rose, he did so with both stakes still erect and dusted another pair before leaping to avoid a fifth demon. His fighting was a dance and the spectators waited with bated breath for it to be over.

"You think you can just take any old helpless human off a shady street in the middle of the day and no one's going to notice? Is that what you thought? Yeah, well you didn't count on Spike. That's right. I'm Spike. Defender of Truth and Justice and bunnies and all that sort of thing. Friend to woodland animals and, uh, and protector of…of tiny babies and…and…oh, bloody hell!" He gave up speaking and instead redoubled his efforts. In a few short minutes the last of the vampires were history. He brushed the dust off of his coat, scowling when he noticed the muddy hem.

"Seven vampires."

"What?" Spike looked up from his examination.

"You killed seven of them, in less than a minute, by yourself."

"Yeah, I did. What? You mad? Wanted a go at 'em yourself, did you, Peaches? Sorry 'bout that. Look at this! Got mud all over my coat and I just got it back from the cleaner." Spike began rubbing the filthy hem against the rough wall.

"Those vampires--" Angel began again.

"It was a trap. I know." Spike began searching for his smokes. "Think your little law chums sent them or what?"

When no one answered, Spike looked up. Angel was still staring at him, but so were Gunn and Wesley. The vampire squirmed under their scrutiny. Angel looked…pleased.

"It wasn't a trap," Wesley said. He looked to Angel who nodded with growing understanding.

"What? What am I missing?" Gunn said, holding the wound on his head to stop the bleeding.

"It wasn't a trap," Angel said simply. "It was a test."

"A test for me?" Spike laughed. Then his face fell as he realized that no one else was laughing. "What? You're serious?"

"Not for you. For Gunn. Or all of us, perhaps." At Gunn's suspicious look, Wesley added, "Or perhaps it was a coincidence that on Spike's last day of service with us, he was afforded the opportunity to excel in the manner which most suits him."

"I don't speak Nancyboy, Watcher."

"He means," Angel explained impatiently, "that maybe what happened down here wasn't a battle. It was a demonstration, a pretty show put on by the Powers That Be to convince the less willing among us," at this Angel glanced pointedly at Gunn, "that there *are* uses for 'nasty-ass Billy Idol wannabes' in Angel Inc. Permanently."

"Oi! I’m not standin' for this, Angel. Don’t got to prove nothing to anyone—"

"—The job comes with a raise."

"So, we get t-shirts?"

Wes chucked to himself as he strapped his crossbow into the harness he wore. Wearily, he clapped his hand on Gunn's back, grinning at his confused, hostile look. Then they slowly followed Angel and Spike.

"No t-shirts."

"Well I want one of those 401K things."

"No."

"Time off for lunch?"

"No."

"This really is a shit job, you know that Angel?"

"Yeah, Spike. I know."

Chapter 6

"I don't get it," Cordelia said for the second time. "So it was like a test?"

"Sort of." Angel replaced his sword in the weapon's cabinet.

"Yeah. The Powers thought the dumb blokes 'round here might like a demonstration of how a real man kicks arse."

"You're not a man, Spike. You're a demon."

"Still. Showed *you* up right and proper didn't I? How many did you dust, Angel?"

"Enough."

"Listen to the poofter. 'Enough.'"

"But he's going to stay? The soulless bloodsucker is going to stay, like, forever?" Cordelia was appalled.

"Sod that! Not stayin' forever. Just till I, you know, get my feet on the ground. Or until I get tired of the lot of ya."

Angel locked the cabinet and joined Spike and Cordelia. "Spike is going to stay as long as he's on his best behavior." Spike and Cordelia raised a single brow in unison. "Okay, as long as he doesn’t go out of his way to *try* to make us all miserable, he can stay."

"Can I just go on record as saying that this is a really, really, colossally *bad* idea?"

"No."

"No? I don't even get an opinion?"

"No."

Cordelia spoke slowly, venom dripping from her words. "And why not?"

"Because, Cordelia, you wouldn’t say anything to jeopardize the clothing allowance you'll be getting beginning next week."

In an instant, the girl's face changed to that of enraptured joy and she began jubilantly jumping in place.

"Really, really, really?"

"Yes. But I don't want to hear one word about Spi—"

"Spike who?" Cordelia flashed a winning smile and turned back to her computer.

"Sure that was a good idea, Peaches?" Spike asked, lighting a cigarette. "I'm fairly certain Barbie here could have you cleaned out by day's end if she set her mind to it."

"Just let *me* worry about that, Spike."

Both men looked up suddenly as the front door was thrown open.

"Hey," Gunn called breathlessly from the dark doorway of the office, "anyone want to clock out early? Pablo's Pizza is open late and Wes is buying. You in?"

Cordelia resumed squealing and jumped to her feet. Free clothes and pizza appeared to be the very thing to make her day. "Shotgun!" she called, racing out the door.

"Angel? Motor's runnin'. Gotta get it before Cordy eats it all."

The vampire searched for his coat. "It doesn't matter, Gunn. You know I don't eat."

"Hey, it's the thought that counts, right? Come on…Wes is waiting." Gunn gave Angel a lecherous look, but the vampire missed it entirely. Instead, he slipped on his coat and swept quickly out the front door and toward the waiting truck.

Gunn continued to stand awkwardly at the front doors while Spike blew smoke rings in his general area.

"So you comin' or what?"

Spike froze with the cigarette halfway to his lips. Then, he shoved it quickly into his mouth and took a long drag. Outside, Cordelia impatiently honked the horn.

"You drivin'?" Spike said, after he'd exhaled.

"Of course."

"Then I'm walkin'," Spike said, though his words held no real contempt. He headed for the back door and then there was a loud slam as Spike passed through it.

The barest flicker of a smile ghosted across Gunn's face, and then he too left the office, locking the front door behind him.

*****

Just after two a.m., the newly expanded team of Angel Inc. tumbled through the doorway of their office. Cordelia held a large box of left over pizza, which she dropped unceremonially onto the counter and then collapsed in a chair.

"You," she accused, wagging her finger at Spike, "have had too much to drink."

"Oi! Have not! Gunn's had more than me."

The bald man removed the paper umbrella from behind his ear and scowled, "I have NOT!"

"Children, can't we all just get along?" Wesley begged, searching for an aspirin in his desk that might fend off the inevitable hangover that morning would bring. Once found, he tossed it back with a glass of tepid water and settled onto the counter.

"I'll have you know that vampire constitutions don't allow our bodies anything less than perfect sobriety at all times," Spike innocently said.

"How can you say that with a straight face?" Gunn marveled.

"I wasn't the one with the pitcher of lager."

"I didn't have a pitcher all to myself!" Cordelia protested from the couch where she'd flung herself. "Wesley had some, too."

"'Some' was one glass, Cordelia. I'm afraid I'm not going to get you out of this one."

"Well at least Cordy wasn't *singing*!" Gunn gleefully said.

"Ramones are perfectly respectable, you git. You just *wish* you had pipes like mine!"

"Is *that* what they're called? I thought a cat was being castrated next door."

"You'd know all about castration, do you?" Spike grinned wickedly.

"I know—" Gunn tried to form a decent insult through the alcohol haze. "—I know you can't sing."

Angel dropped his coat next to Cordelia and joined Wesley on the counter, touching his back lightly before calling for a truce. "Gunn! Spike! Enough!"

"She started it!" Spike accused, pointing at Cordelia.

"I did NOT!"

A rather loud and heated argument broke out regarding who had begun the loud and heated argument. Wesley grinned, then was tempted to touch his mouth. How long had it been since he'd smiled so much? Since he'd found it a regular occurrence in his life? He half wished he could take a picture to send home.

This is what a happy child looks like, father.

Unexpectedly the room began to smell of ozone and a portal opened. Angel slipped from the counter as Nalana stepped through with a small, dark skinned man.

"Aaangeel. I hope I did not disturb you." She glanced solemnly toward the now silent group. "I believe I've found just what we've been looking for."

~The End~
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