“He has a what?”

I can’t believe this. Never did I expect to be having this conversation, and with Buffy, no less.

“A soul, Angel. Spike has a soul. But that’s not the problem.”

Not the problem? Is she hearing herself?

“What’s the problem, then?”

“Something’s haunting him. He… He’s hearing voices, Angel. They’re telling him to feed.”

“Are you sure this isn’t some game he’s playing?”

“It’s not, Angel. Trust me. He has a soul.”

“How can you be sure? Buffy… he’s a ruthless killer. I know… I trained him.”

“Look, I wouldn’t call you if I wasn’t sure. But there’s something out there, and it’s been playing mind games with all of us. It’s hit him the worst.”

“You say this ‘thing’ is telling him to feed… has he done it?”

And if that isn’t a pregnant pause…

“Yes.”

“Stake him.”

“Angel…”

“Buffy… it’s a game he’s playing. Stake him.”

“I can’t… it’s not him that’s doing this.”

“You’re the Slayer, Buffy… you know what you have to do.”

“It’s complicated.”

“What is?”

“Spike and I… we were involved.”

Oh. My. God.

“Angel… are you there?”

“I’m here.”

Not really. I’m currently being assaulted by images of Spike and Buffy writhing around in a mass of sweaty flesh, but if you’ll leave your name and number, I’ll return your call as soon as possible.

“You’re the only one that can help. Please, Angel.”

“I’m on my way.”

I can’t even say goodbye. Grab my keys and walk to the car. The street is normal, everyone speeding by, red flashing hand at the cross walk… all as it should be. Ordinary night in Los Angeles, and my insides are crumbling.

Honestly… I never wanted to make this trip again. Pulling onto the freeway, and I’m dreading every second as I move closer to Sunnydale. Spike and Buffy. Buffy and Spike. How did this happen? Obviously she’s free to see who she wants. I mean… I’ve got feelings for Cordelia… and that’s normal, I guess. As soon as she gets her memory back, we can move forward… I think. And then there’s Connor. Had my share of drama this year. But Buffy and Spike? And a soul? Feeding, and she can’t stake him. I suppose that means I can’t stake him. Well, what the hell does she need me there for? And why did I have to find out over the phone that she’s been ‘involved’ with Spike? Involved. A simple word, really. Said in that hesitant way of hers. A tone usually reserved for me, when she’s saying that she can’t see me anymore… that it hurts too much. And it does.

Flying past cities, the glare of headlights as everyone goes about their everyday business. But this isn’t everyday. This is November 25, 2002… the day I discovered that even 250 miles away, safe and sound as she can be in Sunnydale, Buffy can still turn my world upside down.

This is it… my exit. Welcome to Sunnydale. Welcome back to the Hellmouth, Angel. Since you’ve been gone, we’ve made some improvements. To your left you can see the newly revamped Slayer on all fours being driven into the mattress by your arch nemesis. To your right, please notice the advancements we’ve made in returning Spike’s soul. Straight ahead, you’ll find your youngest feeding, and escaping the Slayer’s stake by playing the ‘Woe, is me. I have a soul.’ card.

Hadley Street, make a right. 1630 Revello Drive. I’m here. She’s in there. With him. Somehow, I can’t seem to let go of this steering wheel. I’m not going in. She asked for help. We promised to always be there for each other. But this is different.

“Alright, let’s do this.”

One foot in front of the other. That’s it. Up the porch steps, and… Xander’s fixing the front window? He’s looking at me, and not saying a word.

“So the basement was filled with bodies?”

Is that Dawn? My God, she looks like Buffy.

“And Spike could’ve killed countless others, and buried them around the town? And we’re waiting for him to do what, exactly? Do something crazy?”

“It’s not that simple.”

Willow. The last time I saw her… when we came back from Pylea. Sitting on my couch, in my Hotel, telling me that Buffy was gone.

“Shouldn’t we stab him through the chest? Isn’t that what we do when these things happen?”

Smart girl Xander’s got there.

“Look, Buffy knows what she’s doing.”

Oh does she? Not from where I’m standing… which is on a pile of broken glass, staring into the house like a peeping Tom.

“Well, Xander, you know what we’re all talking about. I mean, you’ve always been part of the ‘Spike is evil’ faction.”

“I’ve got a house to put back together.”

He nods for me to come inside. I can do this. No, I can’t. Too many memories. They all look so much older now. My hand on the knob, and I can do this.

“Fine, you guys keep your heads buried in the sand, but I think we should prepare ourselves for the possibility that William the Bloody is back.”

I like this Anya. She’s on my team. Willow, turning to face me.

“Angel! When did you get here?”

“Just now.”

And suddenly I’m hugging her, like my soul depends on it.

“It’s great to see you. I’m glad you came.”

“It’s great to see you too, Willow.”

She’s letting me go, and I don’t want her to. God, I don’t want to face Spike and Buffy as a couple.

“So this is Angel?”

Comes the teenage ‘I know a secret’ voice from the Buffy-Dawn. All lip gloss and hair. She doesn’t look anything like the picture of the 14 year old that Willow showed me. She wouldn’t, though. Two years later… or is it three now? And she’s the spitting image of the 16 year old Slayer walking boldly through that dark alley on her way home from the Bronze.

“I’m Dawn.”

She smiles, big Hollywood grin.

“I figured.”

I smile back. At least I think I’m smiling.

“Angel.”

“Xander.”

Another nod. Not a witty kid anymore. He looks tired, like he’s seen too much. I know the feeling.

“Hi Angel, Buffy’s upstairs. Will you be killing Spike now?”

“Uh.” Yes. “I’m just uh… gonna go talk to Buffy.” And kill Spike.

Look up the stairs. Buffy’s room at the top. The room where I spent the night after the Master sent The Three. The room where I first kissed her.

Moving up the steps, and I can hear Dawn giggling, and swooning. Everything a teenage girl should do, and it’s been a long time since I’ve been around it. I won’t spend too long thinking about it, because I can smell Spike. And Buffy. Here, behind this door.

“We’re going to get to the bottom of this. We just can’t take any chances.”

“Don’t… make it tighter. The knots will give. I get free, someone’s gonna die.”

Swing the door open, because he won’t touch her. Not as long as I’m here.

“Angel.”

Her hair pulled back in a ponytail. She looks so… beautiful. Grown up. Sad. Concerned. Concerned over that waste of flesh and teeth that’s tied to a chair in front of her bed. Curtains pulled closed, because you wouldn’t want to get any sunlight on William the Bloody. God forbid he come to any harm.

“Buffy.”

But I’m looking at him. His eyes meet mine. Gone is any trace of that arrogant smirk. Gone is that devious glint in his eyes. He lowers his head. And what the hell do I do with this?

“Thanks for coming.”

She sounds so sincere. I nod, because ‘you’re welcome’ doesn’t seem the best thing to say under the circumstances.

“Can I… have a minute with him.”

It’s not really a request. Not up for debate. But I’ll find out if he’s telling the truth. Even if I have to beat it out of him.

“Sure.” She’s walking slowly towards the door “Angel… I… I’m sorry.”

The door closes behind her, and I turn to the eternal thorn in my side.

“Sun will be up soon.”

The threat makes him stiffen in his chair. Afraid, boy? You should be. This better not be one of your elaborate plans.

“Should get Little Bit to bed. Has school in the morning.”

“So what’s the story, Spike?”

“Saw a man about a girl.”

“Oh? What kind of man?”

“Look, Angel – why don’t you just do what you came here for.”

“And what do you think I came here for.”

“To kill me.”

“You wanna die?”

“Want has nothing to do with it, mate.”

“Then what?”

“I’m dangerous, Angel. They’re not safe with me here. Just do it, while she’s gone. She shouldn’t have to see this.”

“What’s this? Spike is noble now? He’s the martyr? What game are you playing at, Spike?”

“There’s no game! Just do it! Get it over with.”

I don’t get this. Whatever he’s up to, he’s willing to die for it. Which would defeat the purpose, if it were a plan. Not that he’s ever been great with the plans… but this is a new low, even for him.

“I’m not gonna kill you, Spike. Not yet, anyway.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Buffy called.”

“Right.”

He’s hanging his head again.

“Spike?”

“You should have warned me. Make a good show of forgetting, you do.”

“You’re not making any sense.”

“I did this for her. To be the kind of man who would never… To be the kind of man… she could love.”

“To be like me.”

“Brilliant, I am. And now you’re in me. You, and the screams, and some big nasty I haven’t sorted out yet.”

“I’m not in you, Spike. Something else may be, but it’s not me.”

“No, Angel. They were all talking before. And now it’s only you… and me… and her.”

“I’m talking inside of you?”

“You are.”

“What am I saying?”

“To go. To go to hell.”

Sit down on the bed across from him. Turn his chair to face me.

“I want you to pay attention, Spike.”

“Go on.”

“I’m sitting right here, talking to you. I’m not inside your head. Whatever that is, it isn’t me. And if it’s telling you to hurt anybody, including yourself… it’s not me. Understood?”

“I don’t need your mollycoddling, Angel.”

“Fair enough. Gonna help me fight this thing?”

He’s swallowing hard, and staring at me.

“What is it, Spike? Spit it out.”

“Don’t want to fight you, Angel. Sorry… for all I did.”

He’s either being sincere, or the Oscar goes to…

“It’s forgotten.”

“I killed. Recently. Buffy told you, I know she did.”

I don’t know what to say. It’s impossible trying to follow his train of thought.

“Why did you do it?”

“Don’t know, do I?! Shouldn’t be able to…”

“Start by telling me what happened.”

His eyes are drifting off. All I can do is wait. Hopefully he’ll start spilling.

“There were voices. First I reckoned it was the soul. Been a spell since I had one. A bit worse for wear.”

“Is that when you started feeding?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe. But then the voices left, all except for us three. And there was a song.”

“What song?”

“One you used to sing, and I don’t remember what it is.”

A soft knock at the door, and Buffy pokes her head in.

“Everything alright in here?”

“So far.”

“Could use something to eat.”

“I’m on it. Angel? Uhm… can I get you something? Some… blood?”

“I’ll get it.”

She nods, and walks away.

“Spike, I’ll be gone for a minute, but I’m coming right back, alright?”

“Tied to a chair, mate. Not going anywhere anytime soon.”

“Alright.”

Stand up, and look at him. He offers me a small smile of thanks. Push his hair back for him.

“We’ll find out what it is.”

Walking down the stairs now, and I’m sort of numb. I mean… I like a good mystery as much as the next guy… but this is different. He has a soul, I’m pretty sure now. He was never that good at lying. I’m just not sure what’s haunting him. Maybe they put it in wrong… but if this ‘thing’ has gone after the rest of the group, well… most likely something supernatural. Shouldn’t surprise me, this is the Hellmouth, after all.

In the kitchen now, and Buffy’s telling Dawn to go to bed, as Willow hunches over her computer.

“How’s he holding up? Still chock full o’ sanity?”

Something about the dryness of Xander’s tone makes me cringe.

“He’s… a little random.”

“And hungry – blood’s in the microwave if you want some.”

“Thanks.”

“He stayed with me for a week.”

“Did anything happen?”

“Aside from him leaving towels on the floor? Not so much.”

“Was he feeding then?”

“Turns out, yeah. Imagine my surprise that the creature of the night was out creaturing.”

It doesn’t come out as judgmental. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he probably felt sorry for Spike. I’m even feeling sorry for him.

“How did you find out?”

“Buffy staked some vamp we used to know, and I guess he told her that Spike was his Sire.”

“He Sired?! This wasn’t just a feed?”

“Guess so… at first I didn’t believe it. I thought it was just some kind of status symbol for the undead… you know ‘my Sire can beat up your Sire’.”

He’s really an odd kid.

“So he only Sired the one?”

“No, Buffy found a whole nest of them in the basement of this house on Hoffman Terrace. That’s when we knew it wasn’t a one bite stand.”

“A one… never mind. I need details, Xander. Has this ‘thing’ done anything to you?”

“No, actually – but it did go after Dawn and Willow.”

The ding of the microwave, and I’m pulling out the bag. Buffy, handing me two cups.

“Thanks.”

“This is the last bag.”

“Sun’s coming up, I can’t go.”

“I’ll go.”

Willow looks up from her computer.

“Go to sleep, Buffy – you have work in a bit, I’ll go get some.”

“Thanks, Willow… you don’t mind?”

“No, I have to get out of the house. Xander’s lectures on proper tool maintenance, while fascinating… just not my thing.”

“Hey now… I’m not that bad.” He’s looking at Buffy now. “Am I that bad?”

“No, Xander… you’re witty tool guy.”

“Exactly. Okay, break over… back to the window. You might want to watch yourself there, Angel.”

He’s pointing to the morning sun flooding the living room.

“I’ll just take these upstairs.”

Buffy’s wetting some towels under the faucet.

“I’m sleeping in Dawn’s room, we have school at the same time.”

“You’re back in college?”

“No…” She’s laughing a bit. “I got a job at the High School. I’m the new peer counselor. Go me! I’ll go cuddle up with my insomnia and worry about how I’m gonna mess up tomorrow.”

“You’re a great counselor.”

“Yeah… but what if the kids come up with some new problems that are… weird or tricky?”

“Well, I think you underestimate your familiarity in the world of weird and tricky. The job’s perfect for you.”

“Thanks, Xan… you’re always Mr. Supporto.”

“It’s who I am, it’s what I do.”

He grins at her, and I feel… extremely out of place. So much has changed since I’ve been gone… then again, so much is the same. Buffy’s still got her support group, and they never falter. I follow her now, heading towards the stairs. She’s so small. Sometimes I forget that. I watch as each step up that she takes makes her hips swing, just a little. Look away… she’s not mine anymore. We’re outside the door now, the one with the ‘Buffy’ plaque hanging there.

“He’s in pretty bad shape.”

“I know.”

She hands me the damp cloths, and opens the door.

“Spike?”

“Right where you left me, pet.”

He’s shivering. I put the cups down and run a towel over his brow.

“You alright?”

“Fine.”

Give him a drink, and he’s slurping like he hasn’t fed in months.

“Willow went out to get more, Spike. You can have all you need, okay?”

He pulls his head away from the empty cup and stares blankly at me.

“You in there?”

“Yeah.”

“Tired?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m going to bed, guys. If you need me, I’m in Dawn’s room.”

“I’ve got him, Buffy. Sleep tight.”

“Night petal.”

She looks at me, guilty as sin.

“Night.”

The door closes, and now I’m left with him.

“So what now?”

“I don’t know, Spike. You’ve got me stumped.”

“Reckon you’d know… having the soul all these years.”

“That’s just it. What’s happening to you isn’t the soul.”

“What then?”

“Let’s take it slow.”

“I don’t remember anything, Angel.”

“Nothing?”

“It’s all flashes here and there. It’s like I’m watching someone else… do it, kill people. I’ve been losing time for awhile now, waking up in strange places.”

“When did your chip stop working?”

“I wasn’t aware that it had, you know. Not till now.”

“And the losing time? How long has that been going on?”

“Oh… things have been wonky since I got back… ever since…”

“You got your soul.”

“Yeah.”

He looks tired. Exhausted. He’s putting on a brave front, but I can smell fear on him. It’s pretty intense right now.

“Is something in here with us, Spike?”

“Just us.”

“Us us? Or the ‘us’ inside your head?”

“Us us.”

“Alright, let’s call it a night. You wanna sleep on the bed?”

“Don’t untie me.”

“I could tie you to the bed,” he shoots me a look “so you can get some rest.”

“Oh, right.”

Hey… there’s an uncomfortable moment. I didn’t mean it that way. I mean… it was only a couple of times… and it was a long time ago. Long long long time ago. It’s not like we made a habit of it. Just a few times, actually… and I never tied him to the bed… so I don’t know why he… oh fuck it.

Untie his wrists and take him over to the bed. This rope is flimsy. He could get out of this if he really wanted to. He doesn’t seem to want to. I’ll just make this as tight as possible.

“Your wrists okay?”

“Fine.”

He’s lying there, almost trembling. What the hell is he afraid of?

“Talk to me.”

“Stay with me, Angel. Don’t let me hurt anyone else.”

He’s practically crying.

“I’m here. I’ll be right next to you.”

I lie down beside him, and stare up at the ceiling. And how many hours ago was it? I was sitting at my desk, flipping through transcripts and old texts trying to figure out how to restore Cordy’s memory. Trying to decipher this ‘Slouching towards Bethlehem’ crap. And now I’m here. Here. Buffy’s house. Lying next to Spike, who’s got a soul. Who’s been ‘involved’ with Buffy. Who’s been feeding. Who’s currently tied to the bed, and shaking.

“Promise me, Angel.”

“Promise you what?”

“You’ll stake me… if she can’t.”

“It’s not gonna come to that.”

“Promise me.”

“I promise.”

Whatever this is… it’s bad. I’ve never seen him this way. Not even being chased by an angry mob in London. He’s never been this afraid. I turn his head to face me, and his eyes are filled with tears.

“I’m right here.”

Pull him onto his side, and curl him into my arms.

“Let it out.”

He’s sobbing now. I’m stroking his back, and cradling his head. I can’t make out the words he’s saying through the sobs.

“Shh… just let it go.”

I can smell remorse, guilt, pain… and above it all the fear. Rolling off of him in waves. He’s drowning in it. Aside from holding him, I don’t know what to do. For me, it took years, and I still get flashbacks.

“Help me.”

“I’m trying, Spike.”

“Why are they doing this to me?”

“I don’t know.”

“I killed, and I can feel them. Every one of them.”

Pull back, and cup his face in my hands.

“I know you can. I do.”

“Only you know, Angel.”

Push his hair back, and press my lips against his. Sobs quieter now, and… What the hell am I doing? Pull away, and stare.

“Why did you do that?”

His face is frozen in a look of shock.

“I don’t know. I… don’t know.”

It’s an awful silence, as we stare at each other. He’s not crying, though… I don’t know which is worse. Oh God, why did I do that?

“She used me.”

“I’m not using you. I’m sorry, I …”

“You can use me.”

“Don’t say that.”

“If you need to, I mean.”

“I don’t need to, Spike.”

“She hated herself, and she took it out on me.”

“I won’t do that.”

“I never truly hated myself back then. Not like I do now.”

“Spike, I’m trying to understand. Try to focus, and talk to me.”

“Can we rest now, Angel?”

His eyes are so far away. I wonder if he really registers that I’m here.

“Sleep. I’ll watch over you.”

He’s closing his eyes, and burying his head in the crook of my shoulder. How did I get myself into this? Why did I kiss him? Why does he want me to use him? More importantly, why did I kiss him? Am I having some spontaneous kiss episodes? I kissed Gwen… but she started my heart – and let’s face it, she’s gorgeous. Spike is… well… a vampire. A vampire with a soul. Where have I heard this before? Oh, Freud would have a field day with this.

There’s no point in my trying to sleep. I have to get out of here. I have to fix whatever’s wrong, and get out of Sunnydale. I really prefer the lawyers, at least with Lilah, I know what I’m getting myself into. And apparently so does Wes. Wonder how that all started…

Maybe it was all that time spent watching fishes this summer. That could be why I’ve been kissing everyone. Okay… it was just a kiss. I need to stop this. Try to sleep… count sheep. Lovely. I can almost hear him calling me a ‘sheep shagger’. The old Spike would, anyway. Never mind.

Sounds like a herd of cattle coming up the stairs. Carefully pull my arm from under Spike’s head, and move to the door. Look back – he’s dead to the world right now. At least one of us can sleep. Walk out, and see Willow in the hall.

“Everything alright?”

“Fine… I just found Tucker’s brother buying mass amounts of pigs blood at the butchers.”

“Who’s Tucker?”

“You remember him… from the school… hellhounds?”

“The prom. Yeah.”

Peek my head in the room where Xander and Anya are currently interrogating him.

“What was his name, anyway?”

“Andrew.”

“Ah.”

She smiles, and I finally get a clear look at her face. What happened to you, Willow? There’s not a trace of innocence left in your eyes. What did you do?

“How’re you doing in there?”

Gesturing towards Buffy’s room.

“Oh… He’s pretty much past the point where he can tell me anything.”

“I wasn’t asking about him.”

Smile at her.

“I better get back in there.”

Walk back into the room, and shut the door as quietly as I can.

“What’s going on out there?”

“Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you. Xander and Anya are interrogating Andrew.”

“Who?”

“Tucker’s brother, apparently.”

“Oh.”

“Feeling any better?”

“Yeah.”

Sit down beside him on the bed.

“Feel like talking?”

“How did you do it, Angel?”

“Work with me here, Spike. How did I do what?”

“Find some way to feel normal with all the chaos inside.”

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but I’m not really the poster boy for normal. Sometimes you’ve just gotta let go.”

“When I let go… I’m a bad man, Angel.”

“It just came at a bad time.”

“The soul, or the voices?”

“Six of one.”

“Too right.”

“What the hell is that?”

“Sounds like someone’s using someone’s head as a battering ram.”

“Excuse me for a minute.”

Race to the door. Fly into the interrogation room, and Anya’s sitting on top of the kid, about to clean his clock.

“Get her off me! I’ll tell you! I’ll tell you what you need to know!”

“Everything alright in here?”

“Fine.”

“Okay…”

Guess I’m not needed. Just turn and head back towards… Who’s he talking to? Is he singing? Swing open the door and look around. Spike’s lying on the bed, staring straight at the ceiling.

“Who were you talking to?”

“What’s that?”

“I heard you through the door. Who were you talking to?”

All of a sudden he’s calm, no fear at all.

“Nobody… I was just keeping myself company.”

“Are you okay?”

“Fine. How are you?”

What the hell?

“Spike?”

“I’m fine, Angel. Just a bit peckish, I suppose. Do you mind?”

He’s nodding towards the cup on the nightstand. Something’s up. Not letting on that I know… let whatever this is come out so I can deal with it. Walk to the nightstand, pick up the cup. It’s empty… Shit! He’s on top of me, kicking, and punching… And my head! Oh my head.

Oh my head… gotta stop him. He’s at the wall, and punching through. Get up, damnit! Get up! He’s pulled the kid through, and has him in a death grip, and he’s feeding!! Oh my head… Get up. Stand… Stop him… stop him.

Pull him off the kid, and throw him against the wall. He’s trying to stand now. Looking around confused. All of a sudden there’s fear again. Fear, guilt and confusion. Fuck this. Kick him in the jaw, and he’s out.

“Is anyone hurt?”

“I am!”

“Besides you. Willow, Xander… where’s Buffy? Anya?”

“We’re fine, Angel. Let’s get him downstairs, I have chains in the basement.”

Pick him up, put him over my shoulder. That wasn’t Spike. I know how he feeds, and that wasn’t Spike. I don’t know what to do with him though. I can’t leave him here this way. Follow Buffy down the stairs… to the basement. I really hate basements. Chains, and cuffs. Lock him up tight. The kids are coming down now.

“You’re cut, Angel. Did he attack you?”

“At first. I wasn’t what he was after, though.”

“He was after Andrew.”

I look to Xander.

“How is he?”

“He’s got a good chunk taken out of his neck, but he’ll be alright. Had to tie him up again, but mainly just to keep him from scratching at his bandages. What the hell happened up there?”

“I don’t know. We were talking, and he was fine. Then I went to check on you guys, and when I got back, he was a completely different person.”

“Different like ‘William the Bloody’ – type different?”

“No. I heard him through the door, talking, then singing.”

Buffy bends down next to him, and looks up at me.

“He mentioned something about a song in the cellar. And he changed there, too… I mean, instantly became another person.”

“The cellar where he had the bodies?”

“Yes.”

“Trigger.”

We all look at Xander.

“It’s in his head. It’s a trigger. A brainwashing term. It’s how the military makes sleeper agents. They brainwash operatives, and condition them with a specific trigger, like a song, that makes them drastically change at a moments notice.”

Willow’s grabbing his arm.

“Is this left over from your days in the Army?”

“No, this is left over from every Army movie I’ve ever seen. But it makes sense. We’ve had ghosts, or something haunting us, right? Well, what if Spike’s ghosts have figured out of way of not only haunting him, but a way to control him?”

“Spike said he’d been seeing things since I found him in the basement.”

“So he gets his soul back, starts seeing spooky things, and goes extra-extra crazy?”

“This trigger… How do we holster… safety… I don’t know guns… How do we make it stop?”

“Well… usually the operative completes his task, and either blows his head off, or steals a submarine.”

No. This isn’t going to happen. He didn’t go through all of this to end up self-destructing.

“We need information. If he’s a bomb, we need to diffuse him.”

“Uhm… I hate to interrupt… but Buffy – do you want me to call the school and tell them we can’t make it in today?”

“No Dawn. We’ll go. I just have to… get ready. You guys start the research?” She’s looking at Willow and Xander “And Angel… stay with him? Don’t let him out of your sight.”

“I’ll be here.”

The group makes their way up the stairs, and I’m left here, watching over him. Song. What the hell song did I used to sing? I sang all the time. Slaughtering my way across Europe with a song in my heart… literally. Alright, let’s break it down. I hate this part – I’m much better with the kicking and hitting aspect of problem solving.

He’s got blood on his face. I should clean that. She’s gotta have something around here. Towels… There. Okay… and a sink. And… I need a bowl or a bucket. What’s in this box? Ah, bathroom items. No bowl, though. Oh, this one is marked ‘Old Kitchen Stuff’… Aha! Bowl. Fill it. Alright, let’s clean him up. Kneel down next to him. Lift his head onto my leg, and start wiping him down. C’mon Spike, I didn’t kick you that hard… wake up.

He’s blinking now.

“Did I hurt anybody?”

“Took a good bite out of Andrew.”

“I don’t remember.”

“It’s alright.”

“Angel, I don’t know why…”

“Well, the kids are researching it right now. Xander thinks you’re being triggered.”

“Kill me.”

“What?”

“Angel, you have to kill me.”

“Spike… it wasn’t you… when I came in the room earlier, I heard you talking…”

“You know what I’m capable of.”

“I raised you, I know what you’ve done.”

“I’m not talking about when you were around. People I done when you were around got off easy. I’m talking about what I learned after you left.”

“I’m pretty sure I know what you’re capable of, Spike. Hot pokers, remember?”

He jumps to his feet.

“No, you got off easy, too! You have any idea how many girls I kept alive for years in torture? Trick is – you have to drink just enough so that they’ll still cry when you… cause it’s not worth it if they don’t cry…”

Ah, God. I’ve been where he is. I know what he’s done. I’ve done the same myself. Living with the memories, and pounding my head against a wall in hopes that it would break open and spill out all of this remorse.

“Spike, you can’t hurt anyone now… And I’ll stay as long as I have to…”

“Have you ever asked yourself why you can’t kill me? After everything I’ve done to you… to those around you?”

“None of that’s important right now, Spike.”

“Angel… I can’t be a better man! I can’t ever be like you!”

“I saw you change, Spike.”

“I haven’t changed! I just slaughtered half of Sunnydale, and you’re saying I’ve changed!”

“It wasn’t you.”

He’s slumped to his knees, and covers his face with his hands.

“Help me, Angel. Stop me. The voices are all around me!”

Go to his side, and push his hands from his face.

“Look at me, and focus, Spike…”

“I dreamed of killing her. Holding myself and spilling useless buckets of salt over her… ending.”

“But you didn’t, Spike. She’s alive, and she’s fighting by your side. Fighting to save you.”

“I wanted to give her what she deserved. But I’ll never deserve her. Not like you.”

My stomach twists in knots at his words. I never deserved her. She’s noble, and brave – pure, and good. I’m a dead man, covered in the blood of innocents, the world around. I’m an abomination. And so is he.

“Look at me, Spike… Please look at me.”

Tears streaking his face, and he’s a broken man. Doesn’t understand what’s happening to him, doesn’t know why it hurts so much.

“You wanted me once.”

“I did.”

“We were mates then.”

“We were.”

“Am I flesh? Am I flesh to you, Angel?”

“What are you asking me, Spike?”

“You wanted me.”

“I just said I did.”

“You were there. You used me, too.”

Oh God, no.

“Spike, it was so long ago. I’m a different man now. I wouldn’t use you that way.”

“No touching!”

“I’m sorry.”

Drop my hands to the side. He’s backing away, and grabbing at his belt.

“Feed on flesh. My flesh. Nothing else. Not a spark. Oh, fine. Flesh, then.”

“What are you doing?!”

“Solid through. Get it hard. Service the man.”

“Spike, stop!”

“Right. Man doesn’t want to be serviced.”

Grab his shoulders, and shake him.

“Pay attention to me! Listen to me!”

“Help me, Angel! Help me!”

What the fuck am I trying to do?! Work with me, Spike.

“I’m trying to!”

“Help me… help me.”

All I can do is hold him. He’s clutching at my shoulders like a drowning man.

“I’ll help you.”

“Am I flesh, Angel?”

“You’re more than flesh.”

“Make it stop.”

“I don’t know how.”

“Am I flesh to you?”

“What are you asking me, Spike?”

“You wanted me before.”

Is he… he’s not. He can’t want that. There’s no way. He’s out of his mind!

“It was a long time ago.”

“She wanted it fast and hard.”

“Stop it.”

“You fancy it deep.”

“Stop.”

“You remember.”

Fuck do I remember. Of course I remember. And even if this could happen, I don’t want him this way when it does. What’s this?! He’s thrusting his hips up against me.

“Stop, Spike. Listen to me… try to listen. You don’t want this.”

“Want it to stop hurting, Angel.”

“I’m trying to make it stop hurting.”

“You can make it stop.”

Oh! His hand just slipped between us, and he’s rubbing at my crotch.

“Spike… Don’t do this.”

“Please help me. Lose my head in you, I could. Wanna lose my head, Angel.”

Wants to lose his head. Ah, God… I know this feeling.

“Okay… okay…”

“Make it hurt, right?”

“No… you’ve had enough pain. Just sit tight a minute.”

Why the fuck am I doing this? Run up the stairs and bolt the door. Run back down… shit… where’s that box. There. Lotion. Good. Back to Spike. Shit. I don’t know what I’m doing now. Take my cock out, and stroke it a few times.

“Come here.”

Undo his jeans. Stroke him once.

“Turn over.”

“Make it hurt.”

“No.”

Grab the lotion, and grease up my cock. Oh fuck. Push against his entrance. He’s tight. God he’s tight. Hasn’t done this in a long time.

“Come on, Spike… let me in. Let me in.”

“You need me, Angel?”

“I do. Let me in, Spike.”

Ah God. Pushing into him. Ah. So tight. God, help me. So tight. Breathe, because I have to. Lying on top of him. Deep inside of him. It’s all he needs. Let go, because someone needs him. Because he’s more than a monster now. Because he’s scared, and trapped inside a body that’s done horrifying things.

“Am I flesh?”

“So much more.”

Pull out slowly, and press forward.

“Use me.”

“Tell me when it’s good.”

Shift my hips and angle my cock towards his spot.

“Ah, good.”

“Is that where? Right here?”

Again, slowly drag the tip over the lump inside him.

“Yes!”

He’s gasping, and moaning quietly.

“Is it good?”

“Angel…”

“Tell me it’s good.”

“Use me.”

Press in deep, so he can feel my thickness stretch him.

“I won’t.”

Reach around and stroke his cock.

“You’re so hard.”

Lick at his neck, and whisper in his ear.

“Tell me you like this.”

“I do.”

“Can you feel me?”

“Fuck me.”

“I’m fucking you, Spike.”

“Not using me.”

“No.”

Ah, he moans, and his hand is wrapping around mine. Together we work his cock. Pushing him open, his hips rising and falling on my length. God this feels good. So long since I’ve felt a man this way. Since I’ve felt him. Have to hold back. Want him to know this is for him.

“You like me this way, Angel?”

“Always have.”

His hole clamping around my cock. Fuck, does he know what he’s doing to me? Focus, because this is too much. His cock slips through my fingers, and I squeeze. He’s moaning so loud, and it’s killing me.

“Can I turn you over?”

“Yeah.”

Pull out, and take his jeans off completely. He’s spreading his legs, and holding them high for me. His cock, a deep red, and pressed into his belly. Oh fuck.

“Please, Angel… don’t stop.”

“Not stopping.”

Grip my cock, and press against his hole again. This time, I’m slipping right in. I can see his face, eyes locked with mine, lips trembling. Lips. Press mine against his. Kiss him. Slow and deep, like the long slow pumps of my hips. Open. So open for me. Pumping and pressing. Kisses up to his ear, he shudders, and down his neck, and he moans. Reach between us, and hold onto his length. Each thrust driving his cock through my fingers. So good. So… so good.

“Angel… ”

“I’m here. Right here.”

“Are you near?”

“I am. Are you?”

“Kiss me again.”

Move my head back, and press my mouth against him. Tongue lapping at the wetness, lips closing softly around each other. And fuck… I’m gonna…

“Now.”

“Ah, God…”

Releasing into him. Deep. So deep. Ah… Deep. His cock, pulsing in my fist… God… so… good.

Hips still, and kissing him again.

“You alright?”

“Yeah, you?”

“Yeah.”

Just lie here, on top of him. Don’t even pull out. Just lie here, and wait. Think about this insane absolution I’ve given him. Like he needed this… to know he mattered, to know he was still here. Wish it were really that easy. It’s only a momentary reprieve. But at least I can help him through. Whenever we get rid of what’s haunting him – at least he’s got me… someone who’s been through… The lights just went out.

“What the hell just happened?”