Damn. I fell asleep. But I tend to do that after really amazing sex. I roll over and reach for Spike, but he's not lying next to me. I open my eyes and...he's not here.

WHY isn't he here? Why did he leave? Where the hell is he?

No. I won't panic. It would've been *nice*, if he'd still been here when I woke up. But just because he isn't, that doesn't mean that he's avoiding me. Or regretting what we did. It just means he's not asleep. And decided to go somewhere else.

That shouldn't surprise me, either. He's always been mildly A.D.D. Or extremely A.D.D., depending on who you ask. So he got bored, or hungry, or wanted to see how Dawn was, or ...

Instead of brooding about it, I could just get up and go find him. And then we can get that awkward 'wonder what he thinks about what heppened last night' moment over sooner, rather than later.

Right. Good idea.

*********

I punch the bag and follow up with a quick kick, before glancing over at the clock on the wall again. It's only eight o'clock. Five minutes later than it was when I last looked. Fuck, I'm too much on edge. I've got *hours* of mind-numbing boredom ahead of me, while Angel and his humans go out to kill things.

And shit, it's not fair. *I* want to go kill things! I don't give a damn if they're evil things, either. At least I'll be doing *something* *close* to what I was made for!

And besides, it's been too bloody long since I've gone hunting with my sire. Every time I think about it, I get this flutter of anticipation in my stomach, thinking about how amazing it would be. I remember how much fun it was, and how much fun we'd have after...

I start in on the punching bag again, but my heart isn't really in it. I was hoping it would help calm me, but it's not enough. It won't fight back, like B- like certain people used to. It doesn't try to anticipate me, or make me anticipate it, or taunt me everytime I make a mistake, so I'll prove I'm better than that, like Angelus did when he was first training me how to fight. It just hangs there and lets me beat it, while he looks at me with those big brown eyes that ask why I hate him so mu--

"NO!" I scream and kick the bag so hard I break it free from it's tether and send it flying across the room. Bloody HELL. I will NOT think about that day, the day I broke every single rule in the vampire rule-book. All for a stupid ring.

What the fuck was I *thinking*?

I'll tell you what: absolutely nothing. It was yet another impulsive decision that I regretted after about ten seconds, but was too proud to put a stop to. I couldn't admit I was wrong, not to myself and *especially* not to Angelus. Not even when his screams made me feel his pain as if *I* was the one with the pokers through my body. Not even when I looked in his eyes and saw the apology he could never bring himself to actually utter. As much as I wanted to just unchain him and let him go, I couldn't. That would have been weak, and weakness is one thing that Angelus hated. I had to prove to him that I was a better vampire than he thought. So I didn't let go of my plan, the one thing that would make everything better. I (pretended that I) enjoyed his suffering, and waited for (dreaded) the moment when it would all be over and I would no longer have to look at (get a chance to be close to) him, ever again.Shit, truth is I was fucking *thrilled* when his pet humans came crashing into the place to rescue him. Hell, I *let* them save him, didn't I? Sure, they put up a damn good fight, but back then they wouldn't have really been a match for me. He wouldn't have been hard to overpower, either, after all that blood loss. So yeah, I let him go. I had accepted that there really was *no* *way* to be rid of the pain his presence brought, because just the thought of his absence made the pain a thousand times worse.

"STOP FUCKING THINKING ABOUT IT!" I yell.

*****

Okay. My first thought? He looks damn sexy beating the hell out of that punching bag. He's only wearing skin-tight blue jeans, which makes for quite a nice view.

But after a few seconds, I can tell there's more to this than just letting off steam. He's really pissed off about something. My first clue about that is when he hits the bag so hard it goes flying across the room. I hope he's not mad at himself for having sex with me.

He walks over to the punching bag, and then screams "STOP FUCKIN' THINKING ABOUT IT!" He then punches the wall, so hard I hear a few bones crack.

"Spike!"

********I whirl around to face Angel. He's standing there, at the foot of the stairs, in just a pair of sweat pants and a t-shirt. He looks all concerned, as he walks over to me. Maybe he's worried about my hand, probably about something else, too. And as I look into those big brown eyes, something inside me breaks. I try to rush past him, intending to put some space between us until I can get a hold on my emotions again. But he grabs my wrist as I try to get by.

"Let go," I growl, trying to pull free.

"I wasn't planning on making that mistake again," he says softly.

And without even thinking about it (as usual), I use my other fist to punch him in the jaw. He grunts and steps back, and I yell, "Bloody hell!" grabbing my hand. I think I broke it on his stupid face. "That hurt!"

He chuckles and rubs his chin, as he looks at me with an amused expression. "That's supposed to be *my* line."

Maybe it's the fact that smirk on his face reminds me of other not-so-happy times he'd turn that look on me. Or maybe it's because I'm so fucking mad right now. Whatever the reason, I hit him again.

*********

He's mad; that much is clear. But I don't think it's directed at *me*. He was already upset long before I got down here. He just needs something, or someone, to lash out at, to vent his anger or frustration or pain. And I'm more than willing to be that someone, if that's what he needs right now. If he's not in the mood to talk about whatever's bothering him, then this is the best alternative to him walking away.

So when he tries to punch me again, I dodge his fist and step back, dropping into fighting stance. "That last one was lucky; you caught me by surprise," I say. "You're gonna have to try harder than that if you hope to land another punch."

"Hope??" he says with a grin. "You think I can't take you?" He throws a few more punches which I block easily. I taught him well, but I *did* still teach him. His technique hasn't changed so much in the last century that I can't anticipate and prepare for his next moves.

I shrug. "Are you trying yet?" I challenge, and get punched in the gut for my display of ego. I grab his wrist quickly, though, and yank him to me, twisting his arm behind his back as I lock my other arm around his neck. "Now what?" I wonder.

He grunts as he grabs my arm and tries to pull it away. "I didn't give up yet," he says.

"Fuck!" I yell when he kicks my feet out from under me and then pushes back, sending me to the floor on my back with him on top of me. He elbows me in the ribs and then rolls away, quickly jumping to his feet again. I'm up just a fraction of a second later, just in time to block his ankle as he tries to kick me.

*********

I know what he's doing, sparring with me, trying to help me find an outlet for all this pent-up emotion. I hate him (or something) for knowing me so well, sensing what I need before I even fully figure it out. But I guess it's better than him trying to get me to talk about it. Especially when there's nothing *to* talk about.

And 'Liar, liar, pants on fire,' is what Dawn would say to that. When I woke up this evening, the first thought that popped into my head was to thank whatever gods are out there for us evil things that I didn't dream all of this. The second thing that I realized is we have a *hell* of a lot to talk about. And not just the things he's done to *me*, but also the things I've done to him.

Even though he deserved all of it, because I was just getting him back for the shit he did to me, we do still need to deal with it. But not yet.

I'm not sure if I'll *ever* be ready to. I know I wasn't ready then, while I lay there curled up against him, after he'd made me feel things I hadn't felt in over a century. I wasn't ready to hear him forgive me for things I *shouldn't* be forgiven for. Things I've done that deserve nothing short of me being dust.

His fist makes contact with my chin, and knocks me back to the present. That's a good thing, since I came down here to stop thinking. And I'm still determined to do that.

*********

He glares at me, but that spark in his eyes remains, letting me know it's not real anger. "Lucky shot," he mutters.

"You were distracted," I reply. "And that's one of the first lessons I taught you," I remind him. "*Always* keep one hundred percent of your concentration on your opponent."

"It was," he says, softly, but not soft enough.

I sigh, and drop my fists. "Spike--"

He growls and then lunges at me. He knocks me to the ground, and straddles my hips. He gets a few punches in before I grab his wrists. He growls and tries to pull free, but I just hold his wrists tighter. "Now are you ready to give up?" I ask with a smile up at him.

*********

Give up? Let's see... I've got my sire underneath me, and very aroused. Why the hell would I give up, when things are going so well??

Call me love's bitch. Or lust's bitch. Whatever. But I can't *not* take advantage of the situation. I attack his mouth with my own, forcing my tongue past his teeth and shit, I can't get close enough to him. I try to pull my wrists out of his grip, and he lets me, wrapping his arms around my waist. If he held me any tighter, he'd be breaking my ribs, but I don't give a shit. What matters is he wants me, that last night wasn't just a fluke that he's brooded himself out of repeating. Shit, I should have just stayed in the damn bed, because *he's* what I needed. The only possible thing that would make me stop thinking, stop wondering how the fucking hell we're really going to make it work when there are so many reasons it *can't* work--

"Sire." I blink in surprise, unsure where that came from. He told me last night he wanted us to be something different than before, not just sire and childe. And I want that too. I do. But a part of me also misses what we once had, that bond that made me hate him sometimes, but not all of the time. A part of me wants to feel it again, to be reminded that I belong to him.

But I would burn in hell before I told him that. Call it stupid but I do have my pride. He hurt me when he left, whether he meant to or not, and I don't want to give him that power again.

*********"Sire" he moans, and the surprise in his eyes probably mirrors mine. And then he pulls away. Not physically, but something changes in his eyes. But I'm not planning on letting that happen. I capture his lips in another kiss, partly because I could just kiss him forever, and partly because he gets rather vocal during sex. I don't really want the others hearing that. Dawn's the only one who even knows we're together, so if the others heard, they might assume I'd lost my soul again.

But I can't worry about that right now. I finally understand what he wants, what he *needs*. Spike needs me, in a way I didn't think he ever would again.

I break the kiss and smile at his lust-filled expression. "Stay quiet," I order. "unless you want us to be interrupted before I've fucked you so hard you'll be sore for a week."

********

Bloody hell. Yes, please! a voice inside me screams inwardly, and I hate it. It's embarrassing, but I can't deny that it's a part of me: wanting to belong to someone. To *him*. That first night he turned me, he called me his. 'You're mine forever now,' he said. And it was true, even when he --

Not going to think about those things. He's looking down at me, as if he's waiting for an answer. A hint as to whether I'm going to start fighting him rather than play willing submissive.

And when have I *ever* played the willing sub?

Rarely.

**********

He gets a mischievious look in his eyes, which gives me a hint of what's coming, just before he bucks up against me, growling. He tries to pull his wrists free, but I tighten my grip on them, and hold him down. I understand him now, and I have no doubt of what he wants and needs. He needs me to take control again, to remind him that, lovers or not, I'm also his sire. And that means he's mine. And this time, I'm not letting him go.

I watch him closely, though, because while I don't mind taking the dominant role in our relationship, I also don't want to push it too far. There were times after I lost my soul that I dominated him in a way he didn't enjoy so much.

Probably shouldn't think about that right now, though. He seems perfectly happy at the moment. He trusts me. Even after everything--

Stop. Thinking. Now.

Right.

I transfer his wrists to one hand, so I can have the other one free. All the better to torture him with. I straddle his thighs, so he won't be able to get out from under me, and then sit up so I can touch him. I run my fingers down his chest, with a light enough touch to make him squirm, gasp, whimper and moan. When I get close to his cock, I change direction, moving back up again.

"Sire," he whimpers, bucking his hips up.

I lean down and kiss him, devouring his mouth again. He groans, sucking on my tongue eagerly, making me groan and grind my hips against his. He tries to pull his wrists free again, and I sit up. "You *will* be quiet and you *will* be still, unless you want me to leave you to get yourself off," I threaten, shifting into gameface as I do.

He whimpers again and bites his lower lip, but goes still. I smile at him, and kiss him again, possessively. And then I release his wrists, and slip down his body, quickly. I nuzzle his cock, breathing in the intoxicating scent of his desire. He gasps out something that sounds suspiciously like a curse, and I chuckle. He has always been so impatient, my Will.

And I know, this isn't exactly the usual way for me to dominate him, but he's not complaining. And I can't help myself; it's as enjoyable for me to give him pleasure as to receive it. And I doubt that will ever change.

I look up into his eyes, and the need I see there tells me everything I need to know. He doesn't regret wanting this, at least not right now. And the present is all that matters.

"Angel... please..." he says, and I decide to stop making him wait. He's been so good, after all. I slip into gameface and sink my fangs into his thigh, which is enough to send him over the edge. He bucks up against me and emits a muffled scream as he comes, grabbing my head with one hand and pushing me closer, driving my fangs deeper into the artery there. I drink deeply of his blood, and I look up at him to see how on earth he didn't bring the entire gang down here with the sound of his screams. And the answer is that he's jammed his fist into his mouth to keep from drawing unwanted attention by his continued screams of pleasure. His eyes are shut tight and his entire body is shaking with the force of his climax.

Not giving him any time to come down from this orgasm, I gather some of the semen that's spilled onto his stomach on my fingers and then push them underneath him, seeking out his entrance. He pulls his legs up and over my shoulders, and I take that as a yes. Still drinking from him, I thrust three fingers inside his tight passage and find his prostate, scratching it hard with a nail. I hear another muffled scream, as he comes a second time. I manage to hold off my own orgasm yet again, but only barely this time.

*********

Fuck. That was... Fuck. Really. Fucking. Amazing. I gasp when a fingertip brushes over my prostrate again. Shit. He's still ... god... "Angel..." Of course, with my hand still shoved in my mouth, it sounds more like "Aaaell..."

"Mmm?" he mumbles against my thigh, and at that moment he touches me just right again, and I ... well, okay, I whimper. But I'd never admit it. Not even for a hundred mind-blowing orgasms. I glance down at him, and he's smiling, I can tell by that sparkle in his eyes. And I glare but that just makes him scratch his fingernail against my prostrate *again*, making me bloody well whimper again.

Shit, *this* was what I needed: my sire to claim me. What would make it absolutely perfect is if he'd fuck me already, because even though his fingers are doing a pretty damn good job of it, it's nothing compared to how it feels when his cock is inside me, filling me completely while he stares down at me with that possessive look that says "MINE" better than any words ever could.

Just as I'm trying to get words of my own to ask (beg, plead, nag) him to do that, he's suddenly gone. Fangs and fingers, no longer inside me. Before I can even blink, he's pulled my jeans up and re-fastened them, and then jumped to his feet.

"Angel, *there* you are."

Fucking Wesley. He doesn't even spare me a glance, as he starts to babble on and on. And I know he can't smell the sex in the room, being a human, but talk about bloody *oblivious*. But that's how Angel likes his humans.

I catch a few words - vision, vampires, save the humans, blah blah blah - but I don't pay attention. None of it applies to me. I'll stay home with the brat, we'll play a few card games or somethin' to amuse ourselves, and the others can go have their fun. Not that I mind being with Dawn, she's become like a little sister to me, and I'd do anything for her. But I miss the hunting. I don't even care if I'd be hunting my own kind; it's better than *nothing.* But of course my wants don't matter, not in this world or any other, so I'll just go find--

"W-- Spike, where are you going?"

Huh? I turn back to Angel. "To find Dawn, of course. Got hours of fun to plan," I add, trying not to sound too bitter.

"You don't want to come with us?"

Again: Huh?

**********

That baffled look tells me I *haven't* treated him right, since he got here. I've gone too long treating him like a ... like a servant, or worse a slave, confined to the hotel, expected to babysit night after night, with nothing to satisfy his need for the hunt. Well, that changes tonight.

I turn to Wesley. "We'll be up in a minute," I tell him, hoping he'll just go away and not argue. He gives me a look that's an argument in and of itself, but nods to my relief and turns, going back upstairs.

I turn back to Spike, who's giving me a pretty suspicious look. "I want you to join us, Spike."

"Why?" he says, still looking like he's trying to figure out what the catch is.

"Because you're my childe and there's nobody else I'd rather have covering my back," I answer.

He almost smiles, it reaches his eyes at least. But then he shakes his head. "What about Dawn? We can't leave her alone, ya know."

"I wouldn't think of it," I say. "There's Caritas, a few blocks away. It's a bar, but I know the owner and I'm sure he'd let her hang out there. And it's a safe haven, there a spell preventing demon violence inside. So she'd be as safe there as if one of us were watching her."

He thinks about it a second, before nodding. "Only if she's okay with it," he says.

"That goes without saying," I agree.

"Angel!" Gunn opens the door and yells. "Come *on* man!"

"Right behind you," I say, and follow Spike up the stairs.

*********An hour later

"Where exactly do ya think this tunnel goes?" Spike wonders.

"I hope it's a dead end," I say.

"I don't, because then that means we'll find that monster. Do we *always* have to catch them?" Fred replies nervously from behind me. "Why can't we chase it out of the city, instead? It didn't look too easy to kill, whatever it was."

"It's a Pokra," Spike replies. "And you kill it like you would most things, keep hitting it til it stops moving. Just don't let it bite you. Like a snake, it'll put this stuff into your system that'll paralyze you, and then it will carry you off to its nest, where all little Kisroths eat you alive. You'll feel every second of it, too--HEY!"

That yell was in response to me smacking him upside the head. "Spike, stop it," I growl. The horrified look on Fred's face would have made anyone *else* stop talking, but not Spike. Of *course* not.

"She *asked* me--"

"Sometimes - *most* times, they don't need to know all the gruesome details!" I reply. "Now-"

"Hush," Wesley whispers. "Did you hear that?"

In the silence, we *all* hear the howl. "All right, I think it's reached the end of the tunnel," I say. "You three," looking at Gunn, Fred, and Wesley, "stay behind Spike and myself. If it gets past us, shoot it with the crossbows, but do *not* get close enough for it to bite you. Understand?" They nod, and I turn to Spike. "Ready?"

"Are you kiddin' me?" he says with a grin. "This is the kinda stuff I live for."

I can't help smiling in response. It's nice having him by my side again. "Let's go kill it then."

He nods, and tears off down the tunnel in a run. Fuck. "Spike, stop, damn it!" I yell as I run after him. I hear the sound of an axe tearing into soft flesh, and then the shriek of the creature, before I catch up.

I end up in an opening, a "room" of a sort, and damn it *is* a Pokra. It looks like a snake, in the head anyway. It walks on two legs though, and the body looks almost human. The arms end in very sharp claws, which it lunges at Spike with. He jumps back, and I run forward, slashing at its neck with my sword.

It shrieks again, and turns on me. It jumps at me, and I dodge to the side, only to realize I've gotten myself into a corner. Shit.

"Angel!" Spike yells and before I realize what's happening, he's shoved me out of the way.

"Spike, --"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Spike's scream sends chills down my spine. I leap to my feet, and see the Pokra on top of him. "NOOOOOOOO!" I yell, running over to them. "YOU BASTARD! GET OFF HIM!" I start slashing away at it, not caring where, just wanting it to die. It hurt my boy, and it has to die. I keep stabbing and slashing until it stops moving. Then I raise my arms again, and bring the blade down one last time, severing the head.

*******This is not fucking happening to me. It's all a bad dream. I'm going to wake up, any minute now, and I'll still be in Angel's bed. And then the day will go the way it was *supposed* to. We'll talk a little, fuck a lot, and eventually get out of bed.

But not this. I am *not* paralyzed. Not again. I couldn't survive that again. I just have to wake up, that's all.

Fuck Spike WAKE UP!

"Spike," Angel kneels down beside me. Just pinch me, Angel, wake me up, tell me it was all a bad dream. *Please*.

"Angel, are you--"

"Spike," Angel tells them. "He got bitten."

"Well, now *that's* ironic," Wesley replies.

"Shut the fuck up, Wesley," Angel growls. "He was being a pain in the ass but he didn't deserve this!"

You tell 'em, Angel. I feel a little better, with him protecting me. And it won't be *that* bad, this time. He's not Angelus; he won't treat me like I'm not good for anything but-- He'll help me. He won't hurt me. Maybe I can survive it, and it can't last *that* long.

"That's... that's not what I meant," Wesley says. Like hell he didn't. "When we get back to the Hyperion I'll start doing research into the cure for the Pokra poison."

Angel nods, still looking at me. "Spike, can you move at all, can you feel anything?" he asks, touching my face with his hand. I can feel it, but I can't let him know. I can't talk, I try to move my head, my arms, my legs... nothing. Shit. I can't even move or blink my eyes.

Like I told Fred. You can feel everything, you just can't move. This is worse than before. Because before, I was completely numb from the waist down, and couldn't move my legs. Now I'm not numb anywhere, but I can't move a single muscle in my body. Wake up, Spike. Just wake up!

"I have to make sure your back or neck isn't broken," he says. He puts his hand under my head, and checks my spine as best as he can. "Everything seems to be aligned properly," he says. He turns me onto my side, and continues pressing his fingers down my spine. I can feel every touch, thank god. "Okay," he gives a sigh of relief. "Nothing that getting this poison out of you won't fix," he says with a smile. Then he lifts me, carefully, adding, "And don't worry, Spike, we *will* fix this, *soon*." From the look in his eyes it's clear he knows how much this is killing me. And then he starts carrying me down the tunnel.

**********

"You drive," I say to Wesley as I toss him the keys. He and Gunn and Fred get in front, and I put Spike into the back seat before getting in next to him. I pull him back against my chest, and look into his eyes.

I swear I can see in them how devastated he is. I hope he's not thinking about the last time he was paralyzed but how can he *not* be? I am. I was never as cruel to him as I was during those weeks. I could have cured him, at any time, if I'd just fed him my blood. But I didn't. I wanted him to suffer, and I made sure he did.

I'm trying to remember what I've read and heard about the effects of Pokra bites. I know that the poison paralyzes you, but I don't think it has a numbing effect. Which isn't good, if he's in pain. Shit, he better not be in pain.

"As soon as I get you home, and Wesley starts researching, I'll go get Dawn," I tell him.

Damn it, I hate this. I miss hearing his voice. Even when he's being a smart ass at least he always lets me know what's on his mind. But now... the silence is deafening. "We'll fix this," I promise him again.

We reach the hotel, and I get out of the car, before lifting him again. I take him inside and up the stairs, ignoring Cordelia's questions. I don't want to do anything right now except try to make him feel as comfortable as possible. I take him into my room and lay him on the bed.

"I wish I knew what you were thinking, Will," I tell him. "Does this hurt?" I ask, brushing my fingers over the tear in his shirt which shows the wound from the bite. "It should be me lying here. Why did you jump in to save me like that? That's not the way it was supposed to go. I'm supposed to protect *you*..."

I sigh and get to my feet. "I'm sure that if you could talk you'd tell me to stop talking, and go get Dawn. So I will. I'll tell her what happened, and try to keep her from worrying about you. But I won't be able to stop her, you know. She'll hover, and you'll just have to put up with it because I won't be able to stop her either. It'll just mean you have to get better fast, Spike, because she needs you. Hell, I need you. And another reason you *have* to get better soon is this. I'm making a fool of myself, and I can't help it. Because when you can't talk, I talk *way* too much," I add. I see laughter in his eyes, or maybe it's just my imagination. "I will be *right* back," I say, before I turn to go.

**********

"You're sure he's all right?" Dawn asks for about the millionth time, as we walk up the stairs to my room.

"I told you, Dawn, he's fine. Or as fine as he can possibly be at the moment. And he'll be more fine, as soon as we figure out a way to make him better. Which will happen any minute now, because Wes is a genius with spells and potions and--" It's only when she turns a puzzled look on me that I realize I'm babbling in a way usually reserved for Fred. And I've been doing it ever since he got hurt.

I motion her to go on inside, saying, "Don't let the blood alarm you, Dawn. He's not... I just didn't get a chance to clean him up."

She nods, and then walks inside. "Spike? Spike, are you all right?" She goes over to sit next to him, and then looks at me. "I know he can't talk, but I can't ...can he hear me?"

"From what I've read about the effects of the toxin, he can. He's just paralyzed."

"*Just*," she says with a frown, "I'm sure that sucks enough."

Right. I open my mouth to say something, but she's not paying any attention to me. She's started to tell him about *her* night, and suddenly I feel like I'm intruding. They've gotten so close since Buffy's death, but I guess they were good friends even before that. I'm glad, for both of their sakes, that they have each other. I know for a fact she kept Spike alive, I bet he did the same for her.

I guess I'll run down to see how Wesley's doing with the research. It's better than standing here feeling helpless.

*****

She's scared, I can tell by her voice and the way she keeps looking at me. She's trying to pretend otherwise, but she's being *too* happy. Like she was when she would drop by the crypt after B- after... She'd always babble on about stuff then, too.

I wish I could tell her I'm all right. It pisses me off to no end not to be able to. How can I protect her, when I can't move? What if someone shows up, someone who Angel and his humans can't fight? I fucking *hate* this helpless feeling!

"I think you'd like it, I mean... you'd make fun of all the awful singing, but the demon who owns it, he says he can tell stuff about your future when you sing. I thought about singing, but... I don't know. I'm not sure I want to know my future. How great can it really be?"

Damn it. This is when I'm supposed to distract her, take her mind off her sister. Where the hell is Angel? The plan was that he would *help* me with this, and now when he's needed he isn't here!

She shakes her head. "You're thinking, 'Snap out of it, Dawn, moping won't help anything.' And you'd say it if you could, and then we'd play a game of poker, and you'd make me forget all about how sucky my life is..." She frowns. "God, Spike, I'm sorry. I'm being such a whiner, when I meant to cheer *you* up."

Angel appears in the doorway. "Hey, Dawnie, Wesley could use help going through his books. He said he's got a lot of ground to cover, and the more eyes, the better."

"I can *definitely* research," Dawn says, looking relieved at the opportunity to *do* something. She stands and hesitates, looking back at me, then at him. "But Spike--"

"I'll stay here with him," he says. "I was ... kicked out of the office," he shrugs. "But I'm sure he'll welcome your help."

"I'll definitely do my best," Dawn says. She frowns. "But why were you kicked out of the office?"

"Well..." he sighs. "He said my sighing and pacing was getting on his nerves, and I was too distracted to be any help to him." His embarrassed expression is just priceless, and I don't mind knowing he's worried about me.

I notice Dawn roll her eyes. "Don't let him get to you, Angel, he's just jealous," she says.

"What?" Angel looks totally confused. "What makes you say that?"

Oblivious, thy name is Angel. I can't believe Dawn picked up on it though. It's *so* not bloody fair that *I* can't have any part of this conversation. I've sensed that possessiveness about the ex-watcher since the day Dawn and I got here.

"Angel, it's *so* obvious!" Dawn says. That's my girl. "Look, I'm not an expert on guys liking guys, but I am an expert on crushes. And Wesley *definitely* has a crush on you." And he'd have to be an idiot not to suspect how you feel about Spike. So he's jealous."

"I... Dawn, I don't think...I mean, Wesley... he doesn't..."

"Look, it's not a big deal, Angel. I thought you knew already. I gotta go." And then she leaves the room.

Angel stares after her for a moment, shaking his head. He turns back to me and says, "Don't take this the wrong way, but I'm glad you can't talk. Because you'd just take this theory of Dawn's and run with it."

It's not just a theory, Angelus. And I don't plan on forgetting it, either. When I *do* get my voice back, we'll discuss it as much as I want.

*****

He looks like he's smiling. "I know what you're thinking, Spike," I say, walking over and sitting down next to him. "You're thinking you'll be able to talk soon enough. And that's true, but we *aren't* going to discuss Wesley's supposed feelings for me. A, there *are* no feelings, and B, it's just... we're not going to talk about it."

At least not right now, and later.... well, I'll just get him to forget about it, or distract him when that time comes. "So... I guess I'll get you out of these clothes and find out if you have any injuries." I should've done that earlier, but I guess I'm not thinking too clearly.

I pull his t-shirt up, and then pull one arm and then the other out of the sleeves, before lifting his head and pulling it the rest of the way off. All I see is the nasty bite on his chest from the Pokra. I run my hands along his chest, with a slight pressure, checking for broken ribs. I don't feel any. No breaks in his arms or hands, or fingers. I move all the joints, to see if I hear anything suspicious. Luckily I don't. I checked his neck before I moved him earlier.

"Did I thank you?" I ask, as I unbutton his jeans and then pull them off. I hate this silence. I hate being the one who has to talk. He's the one who likes to talk; I like to listen to him. "I don't think I did... but I'm grateful. I *knew* you'd watch my back. I just wish..."

I check his legs, nothing broken there. And damn it, I am *not* getting turned on. He can't move, he can't do *anything*, and I will *not* ... I stand up and walk into the bathroom. Get a grip on yourself. Spike needs you, but not that way. That would be *so* completely wrong, and there will not be a repeat of last time. You can't let him think that.

I start a bath for him, trying to get myself under control. I am *not* a teenager, and I do have self control. Usually. Except I never had much, when it came to him. But it's never to late to change that.

*****

Okay... I don't know what's going on. He was babbling, but I didn't mind. At least with him talking, I'm not left alone to think. I didn't mind him touching me, either. I guess he can't tell that, when my cock doesn't respond; but it would, if it could. And *he* didn't mind touching me either; I could smell his arousal. But then he was gone.

Oh. *That's* why he looked so upset when he ran off. Damn it, Angelus, stop beating yourself up for not being perfect. I trust you; more than you do, I guess.

He walks out of the bathroom, and sits next to me. "I thought maybe a bath would be a good idea," he says, not looking me in the eye. Then he lifts me in his arms, carefully, and carries me into the bathroom. "I hope the water's okay," he says, frowning. "Shit, I didn't even think of that. Maybe this isn't a good idea, because you can't tell me if it's too hot or too cold--"

He stops himself, and thank the gods, because he's giving me a headache with the mother hen act. "I tested the water temperature five times, it's fine. I'm sure it's fine."

Well, I'm glad we got that settled. He lowers me into the water, and the temperature is perfect. He leans me back against one end of the tub and grabs a washcloth. "Wesley hasn't found anything yet," he says, as he starts to wash me gently. "At least nothing about the effects of the poison on demons. On humans... " he shrugs and looks me in the eyes finally. "That's not important, because your - our - bodies work differently, of course."

Damn it, Angel, just tell me what you know!

He looks away, for a second, before looking back at me. "There was a man, a human, who was saved from a Pokra. After twenty-four hours, he died. His heart stopped, I imagine from the toxin. Well, on the bright side that won't be an issue for you," he adds, with a fake smile. "And it doesn't matter that we haven't come up with a cure yet. We *will*, within the next twenty-four hours. I promise you that."

I believe he means it, but I also think he's probably in denial. If there weren't any demons before me that survived the Pokra bite, then how is Wesley going to cure *me*? I wasn't really worried til now, just highly pissed off. I didn't realize there wouldn't be a cure, or else I wouldn't have put my ass on the line for -- No. That's not true. I would jump in front of any fucking danger that threatened him, because he's my sire.

He slides the washcloth down my stomach, but completely avoids my cock. Bloody hell, Angel! I haven't *once* minded you touching me, since we ended up together again, why would I mind now? Just because I'm paralyzed again, that *doesn't* mean I'm afraid of you!

Why can't he sense that?

He pulls me down so I'm lying in the water, putting one of his hands under my neck to keep my face above water. "Gotta wash your hair," he says, as if I need an explanation. Then he uses his free hand to close my eyes. I have to be able to move soon. He's driving me bloody insane!

*****

I wash his hair quickly, and then sit him back up. I open his eyes, because I don't like not seeing them. Not when he's practically de- No, I will *not* think like that. "So I guess I'll dry you off," I say and then I sigh. "Am I driving you as crazy as I'm driving myself?"

I lean him back against the end of the tub. Don't fall. I pull the stopper out of the drain, and then pick him up. I stand him up, with an arms around his waist, while I grab a towel off the shelf. Then I wrap him in it and carry him into the bedroom.

I set him on the bed, pulling him against me, and start to dry him off. "I'm sorry if I'm annoying you, Spike, but I'm just not sure what to do here. I'm trying to act normal, but what's normal in this situation? I figured you'd want me to talk to you, but maybe that's the problem. I'm just not that good at talking, it ends up sounding... like this. So I know this won't work, but I don't know what else to do. I remember how much you hate silence, so... "

I've got it.

I lay him back down, covering him with a sheet before standing. I thought about dressing him, but decided not to bother. We'll go to bed soon, and he never sleeps with anything on. "I'll be right back, Spike."

*****

While Angel's gone, I try to will myself to move. I have to, because I've decided I can *not* survive being paralyzed. Either the boredom, or Angel having a nervous breakdown will make me insane as Drusilla. And I'm not going to end up like that.

Shit, come on. *One* muscle, come the fuck ON!

"Music?" Angel asks as he walks in carrying one of my bags. "What is this..." I'd roll my eyes if I could, he looks so completely confused as he sorts through my CD's. It's called good music, Angel, something you wouldn't know if it bit you in the arse.

"Whatever, I'm just going to assume that you like all of them, since you brought them with you," he says. "Of course that means *I* won't," he mutters, not softly enough. He sighs, as if he's being tortured but I do *not* feel sorry for him. After all the bloody operas and ballets he made me sit through over the years, this doesn't even *begin* to make us even.

He puts in a CD. Okay, maybe I will survive, if he'll let me listen to my music. He makes a face as he turns around and like I said, the man has no taste. Anyone who doesn't appreciate the genius of the Sex Pistols is hopeless. But maybe if he *has* to listen, it'll grow on him?

One can hope it works that way.

He lets out another "life is so unfair" sigh as he sits back down next to me. Well he isn't getting pity from me, that's for sure. He picks up a book and leans back against the headboard, with another pitiful sigh. And I think I prefer the nervous babbling to the annoying sighing.

I love this CD, though. It reminds me of the concert Dru and I went to, years ago. It was at an outdoor place, and it was so easy to seduce away a good meal or two into the shadows during the concert.

And maybe it was the effect of the drugs the humans were on, when we fed, but Dru was happier then than I remember her being most times. I don't think it was just the drugs though, at least I hope not. I like to think we had some good times, for her as well as me.

Damn, I miss her. I know I made a choice when I kept her from hurting Buffy, and I know I hurt her when I did. But I don't regret it, either. Dru and I had been over for a long time before Angelus walked back into our lives, it's just that neither of us wanted to admit it. I guess it shouldn't surprise me that we didn't last. It's rare, for a vampire couple to last for more than a century. I just hope she's okay, and that she's found someone who can make her happy.

I wonder what she'd think if she knew about Angel and me? She probably wouldn't be surprised. She always thought - no, she *knew* how I felt about him. And it never bothered her. My being with other girls bothered her, but not my being with Angelus. I never understood that. I *hated* it when he'd fuck her; I didn't want to share her with him.

I guess if I let myself think about it enough, I would figure it out, but I don't think I want to figure it out. There are some things I don't want to analyze too closely and my feelings about Angelus are just one of those things. I have a sense that on that subject ignorance would be bliss.

*****

Okay, this isn't all *that* bad. Well, the music is. It's horrible. But I'll make the sacrifice and tolerate it, for Will's sake. He seems calmer. Probably my imagination, but I don't really have much else to go on at the moment. What's nice is just being here, with him,

There were moments like these in the past, usually when Drusilla and Darla were elsewhere. I'd be in the library sitting on the couch, reading, and he'd wander in. He'd claim to be bored, rather than admitting he wanted to be near me. I always knew the truth, however, but what was the point in irritating him by gloating about it? He would get a book of his own and curl up next to me, with his head in my lap.

Of course the times were rare when I felt like ignoring my desires for him, and vice versa, so within minutes we were usually doing things *other* than reading. And shit, that was *not* a memory I needed. Not now. We're just supposed to be sitting here relaxing, and I am *not* supposed to be getting an erection thinking about how incredible his mouth feels - fuck.

I have to stop doing this. I can't give him any reason to be afraid of me. Not when he's just starting to trust me again, and let me into his life. But shit, how can I make myself stop wanting him? It's just not possible!

I just have to remove myself from the temptation then. I get up and go into the bathroom. Maybe a shower. A *cold* shower. I hate myself for leaving him, but I don't know what else to do. If I stayed, he would have realized how aroused I was. And that might have made him remember... and I will do *anything* to keep him from remembering that.

I turn on the faucet, using only cold water, and step under the spray. Shit, that's cold. But it's taking care of my problem. I shampoo my hair quickly as I start to shiver. I won't torture myself too long, not to mention that I refuse to leave Will alone for longer than necessary.

I turn off the shower and grab a towel. The "music", and I use that term very loosely, is still playing. Does he listen to that shit just because he knows I hate it? That can't be the reason. Maybe it's just all part of his rebel image. He's been perfecting *that* since day one. I never would have dreamed that the soft-spoken, shy young man would turn into the rebellious, arrogant, opinionated vampire lying out there who has made me angrier than anyone else ever has. Yet he's lived to tell about it because I also fell for him the night I met him and nothing he has done over the years has changed that fact one bit.

No, I am *not* getting turned on again. I just need to think about something unpleasant. Like the years in hell... oh yeah, that worked perfectly. Why didn't I think of that sooner?

I go out to the bedroom, and get a pair of boxer shorts from my dresser, pulling them on. I usually sleep nude, but I don't think that would be a good idea tonight. The intention is to make him feel comfortable and safe around me. So this way, if I get hard, there'll be some clothing between us to make him less worried about it.

*****

Is he planning on running away every time he gets a hard-on? Because if he is, he's going to spend a fucking lot of time in that damn bathroom. It has to stop, but I don't know how to make it. I can't very well reason with him, and he just won't even let himself think logically about this.

So this is how it's going to be? He won't touch me, unless he has to, and that is so fucking *not* what I want. I need his touch, and always have. Maybe it's because he's my sire. Or maybe it's because he never has talked much, but I know everything's okay by the way he touches me. When we used to hunt together, sometimes he'd take my hand in his. When we're alone and I sit next to him, he either puts an arm around my waist or a hand on my thigh, depending on his mood. When we go to bed, he pulls me against him and keeps an arm around my waist. In all our years together it's been when he didn't want to touch me that I would start to worry. When Angelus made his appearance in Sunnydale, he reminded me of that. He wasn't affectionate, couldn't stand being anwhere near me usually. In fact, he would only touch me as much as necessary to get me underneath him so he could fuck me.

So no, Angel, I don't want you *not* to touch me. If anything it's *that* that makes me nervous. Even though I know you would go to hell again before you hurt me.

He looks at me for another couple of seconds, and then he walks toward the balcony. Fine, brood somewhere else for a while, it'll give me a chance to relax for a change.

Or not. He appears next to the bed again. "The sun will be up soon, I didn't realize it was that late," he says. "You should sleep, the more rest you get the faster you'll get better," he adds, turning off the CD player.

He walks over and sits on the bed. "Maybe I should sleep on the couch," he says. "You might be more comfortable... " Right, that makes complete sense, when anytime I've ever been hurt in the past, I wanted to sleep in his bed. Damn it, Angel, will you just think???

He nods to himself, apparently I'm not going to get a say in the matter. "It'll be better." Better for who? I'm not going to get any sleep this way, and you KNOW that! Or you should.

Shit. This is isn't just infuriating, it's *wrong*. Angel *isn't* this oblivious when it comes to me. He's my sire; he *knows* me better than I know myself. He's never had any problem figuring out what I wanted, what I needed, without even needing me to tell him.

But now, he's doing practically everything wrong, and I don't get it. He's so caught up in his own feelings that he's... what? Figuring I'm feeling the same things? Because he's having to deal with memories of the last time I was paralyzed, I must having those memories too? But if I *was*, he would sense my fear. Maybe he's just not bothering to think about that.

I don't know, I hate thinking this much. I like to be active. Keeps me from too much brooding. I am getting tired, guess I'll try to sleep. I hope I can.

*****

I wheel into the living room, hoping to find Dru. She's not in here, but *he* is. I'll just leave before he--

"Spike."

Fuck. I turn around again. "Sire. I didn't mean to disturb you. I was looking for Dru." I try to get a hint from his face what kind of mood he is in, but I can't tell anything. And that's usually not good.

"She went out to dance with the trees or some nonsense like that," he says and motions me to come closer. I do, reluctantly, knowing that refusing would only bring immediate punishment. "How's your back?"

"No change," I lie. I started to get feeling back yesterday, so I've been standing occasionally, trying to get my strength back. I'm not going to tell him that, however. If he knew, he'd want me to help with the "open the hellmouth" scheme. And unlike him, I'm *not* completely psychotic.

"Really," he says as he walks over. And the way he's looking at me makes me look for the nearest possible exit. "Still no feeling below the waist?" Fucking hell, I do *not* like that look in his eye. Dru, where *are* you?

"No," I say. "So what are you doing?" I ask, hoping I can get his mind on other things.

"I've finished all the preparations for waking Acathla," he says. "So I wasn't doing much of anything, other than getting bored. Something you've remedied," he adds with a grin. Bloody fucking hell. "Even now when you can't move, you're still good for one thing, aren't you, Spike? Well, *two* things, to be exact."

Shit. Dru, get in here, because this is the worst possible time for him to be horny again. At least before I got my feeling back, it didn't hurt when he fucked me, but he wasn't gentle and shit this is gonna hurt like hell.

He grabs me by one arm and tosses me on the floor, face down. "At least I don't have to worry about hurting you," he says, as he kneels behind me and yanks my jeans down. "Do I?" he asks.

Shit, shit, shit, shit! "Course not," I say, and then grit my teeth. Don't scream. You'll fuck up everything, not to mention he'll just hurt you worse. Just don't scream.

I feel his cock pressing against my hole and I am going to put a stake through his heart, before this week is over. Bastard. "What are you afraid of?" he asks, in that smug voice that tells me he suspects I've been lying to him. "It won't hurt, because you can't feel anything yet. Right, *Will*?"

"Right," I say, and damn you, don't use that name, you don't have the right to use that name! Just get it over with and leave me alone again!

He does, pushing inside me so fast I bite my tongue to keep from screaming. Shit, I always forget how fucking big he is. But I won't let him know he's tearing me apart inside and I feel every second of it. I'll survive this, like I've survived everything else he's ever done to me. And then I'll get my revenge.

"Will?"

Stop it! Just finish and leave me alone!

"Will, wake up. Will? Come on. You must have had a dream." He opens my eyes and looks into them, and he's so worried. Now I remember. I'm in L.A. with Angel; Angelus has been gone for years. It must be the fact that I'm paralyzed again that made me think of those horrible days when he came back.

"Are you all right?" he asks. "I sensed... .I sensed you were upset," he says. Gee, thanks Angel for trying not to injure my pride, but I know you smelled the fear all over me, if you woke up and then felt the need to wake *me* up. I'm grateful for the dream though, because at least it got you in this bed and acting like my *sire* again, trying to comfort me. Now stay right there, and we'll both sleep better.

*****

He seems to be all right. In fact, his fear is subsiding, now that I've woken him up. I don't have to wonder what he was dreaming about. Even if I don't know the specifics, I'm sure it had something to do with him being paralyzed, back in Sunnydale, and the horrible way I treated him.

But if he's not afraid anymore, that means he doesn't completely associate me with those memories. That's a relief. And I should go now, and let him get back to sleep. But I don't want to. It feels right to lie here holding him, and it seems to have calmed him. That shouldn't surprise me; in the past when he was upset he always wanted me nearby.

Shit, I'm such an idiot. Spike knows the difference between me without a soul and me with a soul, better than anyone. And if I were without a soul, he would be terrified of me. But I'm not, and he knows that, because he's *not* terrified of me. In fact, he probably wants me to hold him and comfort him. Therefore, I'm such an idiot.

"Spike, I'm so sorry," I say. "I don't think I've been acting very intelligently. But I've been so worried about how being paralyzed was making you feel... that I've been ignoring what I know. I promise I'll try to trust my instincts more. Starting with the fact that I'll sleep in this bed the rest of the day."

I kiss him gently. I haven't done that since before he got hurt. I didn't think he'd want me to, but that was another case of me being an idiot. "Sweet dreams, Will," I say, closing his eyes and pulling him close.

*****

Bloody hell, it's a miracle. Just in time too, because I was going to start wishing for a stray bolt of lightning or something to end my misery before I went crazy. But this is more like it. I would die before admitting this to anyone, but I sleep better when I'm in his arms.

And I am absolutely exhausted. I hope I *will* have sweeter dreams, the rest of the day.

*****

Oh, now *this* is a much better way to wake up. I don't know what time it is, except that since I'm hungry it must be around sunset. Angel's still in bed, one arm across my waist and his hard-on pressed against my hip.

If I could move, I'd take his cock in my hands, or maybe in my mouth, and wake *him* up. I used to like to do that, wake him up with a good orgasm. He always enjoyed it too.

"Will..." he says softly. "Are you awake? Because you're either daydreaming, or just dreaming... and in either case, it's a much better dream than earlier."

Yeah, and too bad you can't get me to tell you what it was about, Angel.

He opens my eyes and says, "You haven't gotten any movement back yet, have you?"

I try. Head, neck, arms, legs... nothing. Fucking hell. And I'm hungry, but I have to try not to think about that. Can't move a muscle, can't drink either.

He sighs. "I'll run downstairs and talk to the others. I'm sure they've found the cure by now." He doesn't sound as optimistic as his words did, but I'll give him points for trying. He get up and pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of jeans, before leaving.

*****

I walk downstairs to the office. They're all here, researching intently. All except Dawn, that is. She's curled up on the couch asleep, an open book by her hand.

"She just fell asleep ten minutes ago," Cordelia whispers, from her spot on the couch next to her. She stifles a yawn. "I told her to go to sleep a long time ago, but she is impossible to argue with."

I nod, smiling. I've noticed that too. Just like her sister is-- was. Maybe I should move her? No, I'll just leave her be. I don't want to risk waking her up.

"Anything?" I ask softly.

They all shake their heads. "There don't seem to be any recorded cases of survivors," Wesley replies softly. "And we're down to the last of the books, Angel."

"Well then we'll just have to get more books," I reply.

"Right, and if those don't provide us an answer either, then what?" Wesley asks.

"Then we'll keep looking," I say.

"For how long?" he retorts, and he seems angry or irritated.

"For as long as it *takes*, of course." I reply. "Spike is paralyzed and we *have* to find the cure for the toxin."

"Why?" he asks.

"WHY?!" I yell. "Wesley, what is your problem? Spike got hurt helping us defeat that demon, why *wouldn't* we cure him?"

"We tried, Angel, using the best assortment of resources possible. I just think there are more worthwhile things to be doing with our time--"

I slam my fist down on the desk, and he falls silent. I take a deep breath, trying to control my instinct to leap across the desk and do something I will regret later. "I wasn't aware we were choosing who we would help, based on how *worthy* they were," I say softly. "Where was I when this was decided?"

"Angel, I'm sure that's not what he meant," Fred speaks up from behind me.

"I'm talking to Wesley," I reply, never taking my eyes off him. "and I'm waiting for his answer to my question."

To his credit, he doesn't look away from my eyes. "My point is that we have received three calls today from people - humans - who are in need of our assistance," he says, holding up three notes. "And I don't think we should ignore them."

"Wes, you know I wouldn't ignore people who need us. And we can do that *and* help Spike, at the same time. So don't use that as an excuse. Tell me - tell all of us - what's *really* on your mind. You don't want to help Spike, because he's a *demon*. That's it, isn't it?" I ask. "Would you feel the same way if it were me up in that bed?"

"Of course not," he answers. "That would be a completely different situation."

"How would it be any different?" I wonder. "Spike is a member of this team--"

"No he isn't!" He says. "He's a murdering demon, Angel. He is not one of us and he never will be."

"He is a member of this team, Wesley, because I brought him here. And you don't get a say in that. But if you can't accept that; if you can't treat him as you would treat anyone else here, then *you* are no longer a part of the team."

He's silent for a minute, as is everyone else. I can see surprise in his eyes, he wasn't expecting that. I can also see anger. He's sure he's right and I'm wrong, but he won't back down about this. "I can't accept Spike being a member of this team, Angel. He has done nothing but murder, torture and destroy for over a hundred years. The only reason that is no longer the case is because he *has* to, due to the computer chip in his brain. He would kill us all if he could."

"You're right about *one* thing," I reply. "He didn't ask for the computer chip that forces him not to hurt people, but *I* didn't ask to be cursed with a soul either."

"But you wouldn't wish to be *unsouled*," Wesley replies.

"*Now* I don't," I shrug. "But I did for over a hundred years. I learned to live with it, just as Spike has learned to accept the chip. Funny thing, it took him much less time to adapt and start helping people who needed him than it took me."

He frowns and I can tell my words got to him. But knowing him, he's too proud to admit it. He shakes his head, I hate being right sometimes. He stands up and goes to the door. Then he stops and looks back at me. "You're making a mistake trusting him, Angel. It'll lead to disaster and I refuse to wait around for that. I'll come back for my things later."

And then he's gone.

"He's wrong." Dawn says. We woke her up arguing. "Spike *has* changed."

"I know that," I say, walking over and sitting by her. "Well? Anyone else want to leave?" I ask, looking at the others.

Cordelia shakes her head. "I trust you, Angel. If you say he's not going to hurt anyone, I believe you."

"Thank you, Cordy," I say with a sigh of relief. "You won't regret staying, I promise you. How about you, Gunn? Fred?"

"I'm staying," Fred says.

"Me too," Gunn adds.

"Good," I say. "So.... if we're not getting anywhere with the books, any suggestions?"

"Well, maybe it's too early for this," Fred says, "but we could just... test some cures?" she says. "Just antibiotics, things that wouldn't harm him. But it's up to you, of course," she adds.

No, it's up to him, and he can't tell us what he thinks about that option. I just can't face it yet though. Using him as a guinea pig? Experimenting on him? No, it's too much like what those soldiers did to him.

"Let's exhaust the research before we think about anything like that," I answer. "Not that it isn't an option," I add. "I'm very grateful to you - all of you - for staying and trying to help Spike. And I have no intention of ignoring the other calls we get while we're working on that cure." I walk over to the messages. "Gunn and I will go take care of these," I add, looking over them before handing them to him. All minor demon problems, nothing we can't handle. "That is if you three don't mind hanging out here and continuing the research?" I ask them.

"I'm enjoying the vision free day so far," Cordelia replies. "I'll help Dawn read, while Fred does her girl genius thing."

"You should take a nap at some point, Dawn," I tell her.

"I'm *not* tired," she argues.

"You obviously are, because you *were* asleep," I reply. "Please get at least a couple hours. Spike doesn't want you to risk your health for him."

She sighs. "Fine. But just two hours, and then I'm coming back down to help." She gets up and goes upstairs.

"I'll be back in a minute, and we can go," I tell Gunn. I leave the office and go upstairs to my room. I don't know how I'm going to break the bad news to Spike, and I'm not looking forward to it. But I have to, he deserves to know what's going on.

*****

Angel walks in, and the look on his face answers my question. No cure. "I have to go out for a while," he says as he gets a black shirt out of his closet and pulls it on. "Dawn's taking a nap. I made her promise to do that, when I found out she hasn't slept yet."

He sits down next to me. "I guess I should get you dressed, she'll probably want to check on you later." He's acting distracted, not really looking at me. He's got something big on his mind. Something happened. Maybe he argued with one of his humans about something. Like me? Yeah, *right*, nice dream, Spike. Truth is he would never risk letting them guess how he feels about me. So it's probably something else bothering him.

He pulls the sheet down off my body, and I don't miss the way he looks me over. He then grabs my black jeans and pulls them on me. Then he goes to the closet, finds my black t-shirt, and red button down shirt. He sits down again, and puts them on me. "They haven't found a cure yet, Spike, but they're still looking. And... " another sigh, bloody hell. He looks away and says, "If I don't tell you, Dawn will. Wesley's gone. He ... he quit. Or maybe I fired him. I'm not sure. We got in an argument, and it happened so fast, I'm still trying to figure it out."

Well. I wonder which it was, did Angel sack the jerk or did he throw a temper tantrum about something and walk out? Whatever the case, I say good riddance. Wesley acted like *he* was in charge, and it got on my last nerve.

"I'm not upset about it, though," Angel says, looking back at me. "If he won't accept you as part of the team, then he isn't welcome working with us."

Part of "the team"? When did that happen? And holy shit, that means I *was* the reason. They argued about me, and Angel defended me. In front of everyone, probably. I can't believe it. And I can't wait to hear the *whole* story from Dawn when she wakes up.

"I really need you to get better, Spike," he says. "I will always need your help fighting, but I need it more now that Wesley is gone. And I need you to deal with Dawn... I'm not good at that. I think she prefers it when *you* tell her what to do. She definitely doesn't listen to me as willingly." He shrugs, "But I don't just want you to come back so you can cover my back and handle Dawn. I miss you," he says. Right, enough sappy stuff, go save the world, Angel.

Not quite yet I guess. He leans down and kisses me, and fuck I really miss being able to kiss him back. And other things... Shit, now I'm horny. And so is he. Usually this leads to sex, but now isn't a usual situation. And to be honest, I'm a little pissed off about that. I've had time to think about it, and I don't think I'd mind if he wanted to fuck me. I know he wouldn't hurt me. But his stupid soul is probably making him feel guilty about even thinking about it, so it's not gonna happen.

"I should go," he says. Just like I thought. "I'll be back as soon as I can." He walks over to the CD player, putting another of my CD's in. "I hope you don't get too bored," he adds with a sigh, before leaving.

I can't get any more bored than I already am, Angel. At least I don't think I can. I hope I'm not wrong.

******Three hours later.

I was wrong. But thank god for smart sixteen year old girls. Dawn came in an hour ago, realized there was a serious lack of things for me to do, and came back with a telly. I don't know where she got it, but it was a stroke of genius. There's always *something* on.

Like Dawson's Creek. Another thing Dawn's good for. She gives me an excuse to watch shows that otherwise I'd be mocked for watching. Well, *now* anyway. Before the chip, everyone knew they'd be killed if they dared mock me.

"She's *such* a moron!!" Dawn yells, in response to Joey dumping Pacey for the hundredth time. Yeah, he can do better than her. But I understand why he keeps going back for more. He's love's bitch too.

He's home. I hear his footsteps coming up the stairs, and I'm relieved. I was a little worried about him. But I know I shouldn't have been; he's been taking care of himself for almost a century without me.

"Hey Angel, I brought the television in for Spike," Dawn says as he walks in.

"We have a television in the hotel?" he asks. That's exactly what my first reaction was.

"I was exploring the basement, when I saw it there," she replies. "And it works, so I figured it'll keep Spike happy while he can't move or anything."

"I'm sure he appreciates it, Dawn. I'm glad you thought of it." He comes over and sits down and I can tell there's something on his mind again. "Spike, I was talking to Fred. I don't want you to starve while we're trying to get you well. So she suggested we set up an IV, to keep blood in your system. And maybe the fresh blood will help you get better faster. So Gunn's out getting the supplies, and then Fred will set up the IV."

Well, it's definitely better than starving, but I'm not thrilled about being hooked up to a blood bag. I guess we don't have any other options, though.

He gets up and goes into the bathroom. I hear the shower running after a minute, so I focus my attention on the show. "You'll be better in no time and complaining about the nasty taste of cow blood again," Dawn says without looking away from the television. I'd smile if I could. She always knows the absolute right thing to say.

*****

*****Three Days Later

I wake with a start when I sense his fear. "Spike, I'm here. It was a dream," I tell him, pulling him against me and wrapping my arms around him. "You're safe, I won't let anything happen to you." I hate this. Every day he has at least one nightmare, the memories of the last time he was paralyzed seem to be returning with a vengeance. And then every night, I've had to listen to the silence and look into his eyes while I try to keep him from thinking too much. I just know this is killing him, and that knowledge is killing me.

But I can't do anything about it. I'm as helpless as he is, and it makes me furious. The others have read so many books on demons that they're experts on everything. Everything except how to cure Spike of this paralysis. And he hasn't gotten better, at all, in five days.

The IV is giving him blood, so he won't starve. But it didn't seem to do any good, otherwise, not even with human blood. So a couple nights ago, I decided it was time to do something I *didn't* do for him last time. I dumped the blood out of the blood bag before I hung it on the IV stand, then cut my wrist, filling the bag with my own blood. Sire's blood would have healed him last time, I just hope it'll do the same this time.

His fear is lessening, to my relief. "I'm right here, Will," I say again. "Try to go back to sleep." I rub his back with one hand, trying to calm him enough so he can sleep again. I hate that I caused that fear. I wish I hadn't lashed out at him like that. It wasn't his fault that I fell in love with him. I shouldn't have punished *him* for it.

Well, I'm wide awake now, but I'll stay here with him if it'll help him sleep. I ease him onto his back and gasp in surprise. "Why are your eyes open? It can't be easy to sleep that way," I say. I know I shut them earlier. I reach up to shut them, and he blinks. Shit. Did I see that?

"Spike?" I ask. "Did you ... did you do that on purpose?"

Another blink. Oh my god, is this real? No, don't get your hopes up. It might not be something he can control. Oh shit, *please* let it mean that he's getting muscle control back. "Spike... " I touch his cheek. "Do it again."

I wait for what seems like hours. And then I let out the breath I was holding when he blinks. The little shit, making me wait and worry that maybe I'd imagined it all. "Again," I request. And he does.

"Oh god Spike, I was starting to think--" No. I won't finish that sentence. This is incredibly good news, and I'm going to be happy. It means he'll be better soon."Once for yes twice for no, okay?"

One blink.

"Are you in pain?" I ask.

Two blinks.

"Good," I say, and then I realize have the most absurd smile on my face; but I can't help it. "I... shit, I don't know what else to ask you," I say, shaking my head. "I am just so relieved that the paralysis is starting to go away. I should go tell Dawn," I add, getting out of bed.

No.

"No?" I reply, sitting back down. "No, you don't want me to get Dawn?"

No.

"Not yet, you mean?" I ask.

Yes.

"Okay," I say, "I guess there isn't any rush. Do you want to go back to sleep?"

No.

Twenty questions is going to get old. But no, I will not complain. At least we're talking, in a sense. It's better than the silence, *that* was absolutely unbearable. "So... what *do* you want to do?" I ask, and I know he won't be able to answer... Or maybe he can. He can move his eyes, I realize, as he shifts his gaze down my body to my groin. Fuck, I understood that answer perfectly. I'm getting hard in response, and my boxers won't hide that when he can smell the desire on me.

He looks back into my eyes and I can see the question in his. "I want you, Spike. You know I do." God, I want him so much it hurts. "But I don't... I won't take advantage of you."

No.

Is he agreeing with me? Probably. I turn on my side, pulling him against me. "But I guess if I kissed you, I wouldn't be taking advantage of you if you wanted me to," I add.

*****Bloody hell yes.

He smiles and kisses me, gently, nibbling on my lower lip. He strokes my cheek with one hand, and this is really more fucking like it. His tongue slides into my mouth, and damn I hate not being able to kiss him back. It's not right when I can't. But it's better than nothing.

I want him so much, I have for days. He's been so damn oblivious though, even though the scent of our desire has been in this room to the point where it's overwhelming me. I don't know how he can ignore it so easily.

I would have been hard for days, too, if I weren't paralyzed. He's hard now, against my hip, and that just makes it worse for me. I really want to touch him, taste him, but I bet that would never occur to him.

He pulls away enough to talk. "I want to touch you, Will. I've been resisting the urge to do that, because I would never do anything without knowing it was something you wanted. I'm asking you now if it is something you want."

Fuck yes.

He smiles, and pushes me onto my back, and then slides the hand that was on my cheek down to my chest. My skin feels like it's on fire everywhere he touches me. Shit. He rubs one of my nipples until it's hard, and then he pinches it, roughly. Fuck fuck *fuck.* Then he moves to the other one, tormenting me even more. It's torture, but it's such sweet torture I wouldn't even think of stopping him. He knows just how to touch me to make me scream. Under normal situations, of course.

He leans in and nuzzles my throat and damn, I have never wanted him to drink from me more than I do right now. But knowing him, he won't do that. Not when I'm still so far from being healed completely. But even a little... SHIT! He bit down, not hard enough to draw blood, but hard enough to mark me. It's like he read my mind, and that shouldn't surprise me. He *does* know what I like.

He lifts his head after another minute, and runs his hand down over my stomach. Yes, I tell him, just in case he's having second thoughts. Fucking *touch* me, damn it! He nods and then I swear I should be coming so hard, just from feeling his hand on my cock. He strokes me, firmly enough to cause the friction that I like, all the while watching my eyes. Fuck, yes, this is what I wanted. Well, that and feeling him inside me, but I'll take what I can get.

"I love you, Will," he says. "I need you to get well again, so I can make love to you like I've been wanting to do for days." Shit, the arousal in the air, from both of us, is overwhelming. And the tension keeps building, until, even though I don't want him to stop, I *need* him to. There's a point when pleasure becomes pain, and that's fine, but then there's also a point when the pain blocks out the pleasure. And I'm there. I blink no, and he stills his hand.

"I understand," he says, pulling his hand away. "I hate this, Will, probably as much, or maybe even more than you do. I want to be able to make you come, and hear you scream my name. And besides that, I just miss talking to you. I would give anything to hear your voice again. Even when you're being a pain in the ass at least you keep things interesting," he says with a smile. "And this is when you would probably say stop brooding, right?"

Damn right, and that's what I tell him, with a blink.

*****

I sigh, even though he did say stop brooding. "Sorry," I say, as I sit up. I know he hates those sighs. "I should go take a shower."

No. He said no. "No? Why not?" He gives me this very exasperated look, and I say, "Right, I know we can't have in depth conversations yet. Sorry. I just really suck at guessing games, Spike. But if I have to guess, I'd say you don't want me to go anywhere?"

Yes. He doesn't want to be left alone, and that's understandable. He's probably been so lonely, the past several days. Even though I've been here, it's not the same when he can't communicate with me.

"Okay, I guess I don't really need a shower right this minute," I reply. I was really just using that as an excuse, anyway, because I need to come. And if I could get a minute to myself... but that's not fair to Spike. I won't be that selfish, I'll just ignore it.

I crawl back under the sheet and curl up next to him, sliding an arm across his waist. "Better?"

Yes. Well, I'm not complaining either, especially when I don't get this opportunity often. He usually doesn't like cuddling. He used to need physical affection from me, to the point that it got on my nerves. But I guess my being absent for so long changed that for him. He learned not to need me.

"Do you want to watch TV?" I ask.

No.

"Well, I hope you don't want me to *talk*, Spike," I say. "Haven't you figured out how horrible I am at that?"

Yes. Smart ass. I can't help laughing, though, and I haven't done that since... I guess it was before he was bitten.

"Well, I'm glad you still have your sense of humor," I say with a smile. I lean in to kiss him again, and I could definitely do *this* for hours. Even though it would be better if he could kiss me back. It would be *perfect* then. And I also can't wait until I can stroke him to hardness, and hear his moans and whimpers, and heavy breathing. And being able to make him come repeatedly, until he begs me to stop.

I break the kiss and try to think about something else. It's making me even harder, and it's already painful enough. I'm sure it's difficult for him too, not to be able to come when I can sense his desire so strongly.

The phone rings, but I'll just let Cordelia get it. As far as they know, I'm still sound asleep and I plan to let them think that for several more hours. "I *could* tell you about what we've been working on the last couple of days, I guess," I tell Spike. "If you're interested."

Yes.

"It's funny, you know, you can go centuries without ever running into vampires you used to know, but I guess when you live as long as me it's bound to happen eventually. Did I ever mention Elizabeth and James?"

No.

"They were ... friends, I suppose you'd say, of myself and Darla. Long before Drusilla or you. The vision Cordy had last night were vampires crashing a party at a college dorm. We got there, and chased down the vampires. One of them was Elizabeth. James wasn't anywhere around, but I'm sure he was in L.A. with her. They were pretty inseparable. He'll be coming for me if he finds out that I was the one who staked his lover. Gunn and Wes are doing what they can to find out where he is, so we can take care of him before he comes looking for me here. I don't want to put Dawn - and you - in that kind of danger."

"ANGEL!"

That's Cordelia, and she's afraid. I get out of bed, running downstairs. Shit, that just figures, he did track me here. "James. I didn't think you'd be smart enough to find me," I say, looking around. Cordelia's nowhere in sight; she must have hidden. Smart girl.

"WHY'D YOU DO IT?!" he yells as he charges me. I duck the first punch, but then he gets me in the jaw, knocking me off balance. He tackles me to the floor and I elbow him in the ribs, making him let go. I jump to my feet and grab him by the shoulders, tossing him across the lobby.

Stake, I need a -- "ANGEL!" Cordelia throws me a crossbow. That'll work, too.

"CORDELIA RUN AND HIDE!" I order her, before I turn back to James. FUCK where is he?! I can't let him get upstairs, to Dawn, Fred, or Spike. SHIT!

"BEHIND YOU!" Cordelia screams. I turn, but a second too late. He knocks the crossbow out of my hand, and tackles me again. This is getting old. Something flies at him, a fire extinguisher. It hits him on the head, dazing him enough so I can kick him off me.

"Cordelia, I *told* you--"

"Shut up and stake him already!" she yells, throwing me a stake. SHIT. James caught it. "Oops!" she adds. Right, oops. He lunges at me, with the stake, and I grab it too, trying to wrestle it out of his hands.

"You never loved anyone, or anything!" he yells. "Go to hell!"

"I've... been there," I reply. "Not planning on going back anytime... soon." I look around, for something, anything I can use as a weapon, but most of my attention is focused on the pointy, wooden object aimed at my heart.

Cordelia grabs him around the neck, and I yell. "NO, Cordy!" He flings her off of him like a rag doll and I grab the stake, burying it in his chest.

I run over to Cordelia, who went flying into the glass doors of the weapon case, shattering them as she fell. "Are you all right?" I ask. She's got a few cuts, but she gets to her feet all right.

"Ouch, but yeah, I'll live," she nods, brushing the glass off.

"Shit, Cordelia, I appreciate the help, but he could've killed you," I say. "Next time listen to me when I tell you to do something! But thank god *he's* gone, so no real harm done this time."

"Angel, your aim must've been off," she says, pointing behind me.

I turn to look, and James gets to his feet and pulls the stake out of his heart. "It wasn't," I say. Shit, this is bad. What does he have that's keeping him alive? A spell? He's not wearing anything that looks like it might be a mystical power source. I run at him, and throw him out toward the garden. The glass shatters, as he falls into the sunlight, but he doesn't burst into flames.

"Basement, now!" I yell, turning back to Cordelia. My only hope now is that he'll follow us, not knowing about Fred, Dawn, and Spike upstairs.

*****

FUCK. This isn't right. Angel's down there, maybe in trouble, and I can't help him! Damn it, why can't I MOVE?!

"Spike?" Dawn asks quietly as she comes inside. "Angel, and some vampire, and Cordelia..." She winces at the loud crashing noise. "I know, you can't do anything, but I wanted to be in here with you. I'm sure it'll be fine," she adds, but she's not fooling anyone; she's worried. "Angel won't let him get anywhere near us--"

Another crash, glass breaking, and then everything's silent.

Dawn looks to the doorway. "What happened? Do you think I should go check?"

NO! I blink twice. Do NOT go downstairs, it's not safe until we *see* Angel and he tells us it's okay.

"Oh my god, you blinked!" she says. Right, I forgot she didn't know about it. "That's great! You can communicate now, right? And you blinked twice; I bet that's a no. You want me to stay here."

Yes.

"Oh, this is so great!" she says with a smile as she sits down next to me. "You're getting better, I just *knew* you'd recover completely when Angel told me he'd decided to start giving you his--" She gasps, and shuts her mouth. "So... I should probably lock that door, and put a chair or two in front of it."

She gets up and goes back to the door, shoving a chair in front of it, and another chair in front of that. "There, that should... totally help, right? Evil vampires hate blocked doors," she says. She shrugs as she walks back into the bedroom. "It's the best that I can do, though."

He's giving me his *what*, Dawn? Shit, if only I could TALK! How is she so sure I'm going to recover completely? What would Angel have that could heal me... Fuck me, it's the blood. Here I thought it was just normal human blood, and it's *his*. That's *got* to be it. It's what I knew would've healed me back in Sunnyhell. He knew it too. And now he's trying to make up for it? Is that it? Shit, Angel, you'd *better* be feeding enough to make up for that blood loss. I don't want to be the reason *you* get hurt, anymore than you wanted to be the reason *I* was hurt.

"So... oh god, Fred. Shouldn't I go make sure she's okay?" Dawn asks.

Shit, no, but... I won't be *that* selfish. Yes, I tell her. Be careful though, Dawn.

"I'll be careful," she says, reading my mind. "I... hm, wonder if Angel keeps any weapons hidden around here, or ..." She wanders around, checking drawers and boxes, before she gets to the closet. She kneels down, and gasps. Oh wow. I don't want to know what all this stuff is for," she says, as she rummages through something. A box? "This bottle ... has to be holy water though. No reason for it to be anything else." She gets to her feet and shows it to me. Shit, I recognize that bottle. He kept it in that bloody "toy chest" of his... Shit, Angelus, we're gonna have a talk about that, when I *can* talk. "Mr. I'm perfectly normal now that I have a soul" has a few kinky secrets.

"I'll be back, with Fred," she tells me. She walks back to the door, pulling the chairs away from it, before leaving.

I listen carefully for any signs of trouble, but there's nothing. No Angel either, so I hope that means he lured James out of the hotel. I try to sense his presence, but I don't feel it. He just left, then. He's *not* dust on the lobby floor, I would have felt *that*, if it happened. I felt his pain when he got sucked into hell, at first, because I was focused on sensing him. I needed to know that he was really gone. And then I blocked it out by refusing to think about him. He was gone, and I told myself I was glad. I hated him.

I wonder sometimes if all childer can sense when their sires are in pain. I could never ask Dru, because she was never all there enough to have a deep conversation like that. I could ask Angel if he ever felt that with Darla, but I won't. That would mean he'd know *I* can feel it, and he'd probably take it to mean something important. And I'm not ready for any more important discussions with him. We've been doing good, taking things one day at a time, not over-analyzing what we're doing. I don't want to risk fucking it all up by changing that.

Dawn and Fred walk in. "Fred called Gunn. He and Lorne are on their way. They were trying to find out about this vampire they were looking for," Dawn tells me. "You're never going to believe this, Spike, but the guy got a *heart* transplant. It'll make him invincible, but luckily for us only for six hours. It would have taken him at least two hours to recover from the operation enough to be able to walk around. So ... as long as Angel can just keep him busy, he'll die on his own."

"Dawn! Fred!" That's Gunn.

"I'll be right back," Dawn says to me before they run out of the room.

Great. So this psycho vampire who's after Angel is invincible for six hours. Six hours from when? And what if-- No. I won't think about that. Angel has survived *all* kinds of horrible things, hell even, and he'll survive this. I just have to ... what. Wait? Yeah, cuz I'm *so* good at *that.*

*****He's on top of the train. "Ssh," I tell Cordelia.

"No way, he *isn't*--"

I shove her behind me as he crashes through a window in the back of the train. "Get back, Cordy!" I yell. PLEASE listen to me this time!

"Well, *this* is a new twist in an old snake," James says as he walks up to me. "Is it possible you care about someone who isn't you?"

"Don't worry about her," I tell James, hoping he believes me as I try to pretend I don't care about Cordelia.

"But if you've changed," James says. "If you aren't the same man who screwed Darla and couldn't care less what happened to her..."

"Where did you hear... Oh. You mean back in the day. Right," I shrug.

"He has changed," Cordelia says from right behind me. DAMN it, woman! "A lot. He has a soul now and he cares about people."

"So you might feel something when I snap her neck," James says with a grin.

"Well, it's not like he's losing sleep with the caring," Cordelia replies nervously.

"Lucky me," James says with a laugh. "Now *I* can kill the woman *you* love."

"No, you can't," I tell him.

"Are you forgetting who's the invincible one here?" he asks.

"The woman I love - loved - is dead," I explain.

"Who are you talking about?" he asks, clearly puzzled as he looks behind me to Cordelia, and then back to me.

"It happened about three months ago," Cordelia answers. "We try not to say her name too much."

"*You* loved someone - with all your heart," James says, still obviously not believing this at all.

"Yeah," I answer, nodding. In fact I have loved *two* someones that way. One died saving the world, and the other one is lying paralyzed in my bed because he saved *me.*

"No you didn't," James replies. "Because if you had, you wouldn't be standing here playing games with me. You wouldn't be able to - because once she died or some bastard killed her, it would have killed everything in you!"

And he's right. If Buffy had been the only one, if I hadn't also felt that way - and even stronger about Spike, then "I wouldn't be able to go on living."

"Don't worry, you won't," he says with a smile. "And she won't either," he adds, nodding at Cordelia. He grabs a seat, and hits me with it, catching me by surprise.

"ANGEL!" Cordelia yells.

"Damn it, Cordy, get AWAY from this!" I yell, turning to her. He hits me again, knocking me back toward her.

"Catch him!" I holler at her, ignoring her question of who to catch, as I grab the crutches of a man standing there. She'll figure it out, she always does. I jump to my feet, and walk toward James.

"You think you can take me?" I ask him. "Come on, then!" I slam one of the crutches into him, and he goes flying into the wall of the train.

"How's that, invincible boy?" I say as I break one of the crutches over his head, knocking him to the floor. "Is that your idea of love, James, hmm? It's not real unless it kills, you?" God, he reminds me of how *I* used to be, with Buffy. I used to think my love for her was everything that mattered. And I *did* love her, because she was everything good in the world, everything *I* wanted to be. I ignored my feelings for Spike, because he wasn't "good." Just like Wesley, I believed Spike wasn't worthy, when the truth is *I* was the one who wasn't worthy of *him.*

I watch him roll over, panting, and get to his feet, slowly. He's fading. Any minute now, this will be over. "Yeah," he nods. "What's yours? It's fun as long as it doesn't cost me anything? - You don't know what love is!" He falls back to the floor on his knees and adds. "You think you won - just because you're still alive? I lived. You just existed."

"You don't know me, James," I tell him as I throw the other crutch to the ground. "Not who I am now. I *was* that selfish vampire who didn't care about anything but himself, but I've changed. I've known love, and not just with one person. I have friends who I love, and who love me. And I found someone else, after the woman I loved died. Someone else I love, someone who gave me a reason to keep living.

"So yeah, I *have* won," I add, looking into his miserable face. "I've known more love than you ever did."

He crumbles to dust, and I fall into the nearest seat. "So, that was fun, huh?" I say looking up at Cordelia. I put my hand to my left side, wincing. He broke a few ribs, but I'll survive.

She's staring at me, surprise on her face.

"What?" I ask. The train comes to a stop and I motion her to the door.

"I'm just trying to figure out who this mysterious someone is, who you've fallen for," she replies, turning to study my face.

Oh. Yeah. I totally forgot Cordy was there when I said all that about Spike. I didn't mention his name, at least. That's a relief. It's not the right time for us to tell the others about our relationship.

"Angel?" she says. "Come on, you can't *not* tell me!" she insists.

You wanna bet? "Later," I tell her. Much later.

"That's not fair!" she yells. "I'd tell you, if I was involved with someone, why are you keeping your new girl a secret?"

I sigh as I point her down the tunnel that will take us back to the basement. "It's complicated."

"Since when have you had a relationship that *wasn't*?" she asks. Good point. "And why would telling us about it, make it *more* complicated?"

"Cordelia, please," I say, following her up the ladder to the basement. "I promise you, when *I* feel it's time, I'll tell you everything. You're just going to have to accept that."

She frowns, but nods. "You're just no fun, you know that?"

"So I've been told," I reply. "Thank you, by the way."

"For what?" she asks.

"You probably saved my ass at least once today. Even though you *should* have run and hid, when I *told* you to," I add.

"Yeah, right. When do I *ever* listen to what *you* say?" she teases me as she heads up the stairs. I follow her, up to the lobby.

"Oh thank god you're okay!" Fred says as she sees us. "That was so scary, hearing all the noise down here."

"I'm glad you stayed out of the way," I tell her. "James was out for blood, and I just had to hold him off until he died on his own."

Gunn and Lorne walk out of the office. "I like the redecorating job, Angelcakes," Lorne says. I look around, and for the first time realize what a great job we did of breaking things. The back window to the garden is shattered, glass everywhere. The weapons chest doors are broken, from where James threw Cordelia into them. And just about every chair is broken. In other words, it's been pretty much a typical day in the life of the Angel Investigations team.

"How's Dawn?" I ask Fred.

"She's okay," she replies. "She went upstairs with Spike, she said she felt safer there."

"I'll go tell her it's all over," I say, running upstairs. I open the door and smile when I see them on the bed, watching television.

"Angel!" she yells when she sees me, running up and giving me a hug. "Spike can blink, did you know that?"

I chuckle at her enthusiasm; it's nice to know I'm not the only one so happy about it. "I know. It's wonderful."

"So is everything okay?" she asks.

I nod, walking over to sit next to Spike. His IV bag is empty, I'll have to get another one ready for him. "Hey, Dawn, could you do me a huge favor? I got kind of banged up, and I could use some blood. And grab another bag for Spike."

"No problem," she says, running out of the room.

I look back at Spike. "I'm okay," I answer the question I know he'd would ask first if he could. "A few broken ribs, but they'll mend in a day or so." I lean down and kiss him quickly. "I missed you, I really could've used your help. Next time, right?"

Yes.

"Were you worried?" I ask, as I get a pair of his jeans. I turn back to him, waiting for an answer. Nothing. "Fine, don't answer," I shrug. "It doesn't matter, I *know* you were," I say with a smile. I pull the sheet down, and damn he's just perfect.

Later. Much later. I get the jeans on him, fastening them, not thinking about touching him. Not thinking *too* much, anyway.

I look back into his eyes. "I am really hoping we can have a quiet evening now for once," I tell him. "I just want to spend time with you."

Yes. He wants that too. It's so nice to know.

"ANGEL!"

Shit, I guess we won't get that. "I'll be back as soon as I can," I tell him as I head for the door again. I hate the disappointment in his eyes; I feel the same way. But I can't deny my duty, and I know he doesn't want that. He just wishes he could come with me.

Next time. Hopefully.

*****

Chapter Five

Two days later

I'm hooking another blood bag to the IV when I realize he's awake. "Hey."

"An..."

He tried to talk. Holy shit. "Spike, can you talk?"

"Water," he whispers.

"Water?" I ask. Of course, his throat has to be dry... SHIT. "You just nodded!" I say. Water, Angel. Get him water first. Then we'll talk... oh god, we'll talk, and how long have I waited to hear his voice?

I bring him a glass of water and he reaches out-- Okay, time for me to sit down, before I drop it. "SPIKE!" I yell, "You're moving your arm!"

He rolls his eyes as he sits up-- "Stop doing that!" I yell as I put my hand on his back to steady him. "I mean, shit, don't stop, but what the hell..." Okay, this is a dream, right? Don't wake me up if it is, I don't want to wake up.

He drinks some of the water, before handing it back to me. "You gonna faint on me?" he asks. And his voice is weak, but STILL he's talking!

"No, I just... I can't believe it. You can... you're..." I grab him by the hips, pulling him onto my lap as I kiss him. Shit, I've been dying to feel... oh fuck, he's kissing me back, and moaning. His hands slide up my arms to my shoulders, and god, I can't believe it. He's better. I was starting to worry, he hasn't been moving anything but his eyes, and I am *so* damn relieved.

I pull away from the kiss reluctantly, and smile when I feel his cock stirring to life against my stomach. "Well, if I had any doubts you were recovering, I don't now," I say, smiling.

He chuckles. "Well, I think your blood did the trick."

What? How-- "How did you know?" I ask.

"Dawn... she let it slip a few days ago," he shrugs, looking away. "And... thank you."

"You don't have to thank me," I say, stroking his cheek with one hand. "I'm just so glad it helped you heal, Spike. God, I've missed you."

He nods. "No kidding, you said it every bloody hour just about," he grins. "But I wanna try to stand," he says, moving off me and swinging his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Yeah, of course," I say. "You want help?"

*****

"NO," I say, but maybe a little too harshly. "I just... I need to try to do this myself," I explain as I sit up. I pull the IV needle out of my arm and pull myself up, but my legs give out and I sit back on the bed. "Fucking hell."

"Spike, you're still weak," Angel says, sliding closer to me. "Don't push yourself all at once."

"Angel, when have I ever been patient about anything?" I ask him.

He laughs. "Right, I forgot who I was talking to," he shrugs. He gets up, returning with a mug. He fills it with the rest of the blood from the IV bag. "Drink," he says. "Shouldn't let it go to waste."

I would never pass up the opportunity to drink his blood, so I take the mug willingly. And yeah, that's the *good* stuff. I can feel the power in it, not to mention it also *always* has the effect of turning me on. Damn, I hate being predictable. But it's been almost a week since I've been with him.

So what I should say is: 'So, can't walk, let's fuck instead'? Sure, that's not needy at all.

"You sure you don't want me to help you stand up and walk around?" he asks.

"No, I'll just give it time, I guess," I reply. That's as close as he'll get to hearing me tell him he was right about taking it easy.

"What do you want to do then?" he asks. "Because, you know, we do have several hours before the sun sets."

He says it so casually, but I know what he's getting at. I can't help smiling as I look over at him. He wants me; I can sense it. Of course I can't blame him, I'm pretty damn irresistable, or so I've been told. "That's true."

He leans in to kiss me again. "And have I mentioned I've missed you?" he adds.

"Hm.... think you might've mentioned it once or twice," I reply, moving to straddle him. I kiss him, thrusting my tongue into his mouth, smiling when he whimpers. "So what d'you wanna do about it?" I ask.

*****

I lie back on the bed, pulling him with me, and wrap my arms around his waist. "I can think of a few things we can do," I say. I roll us over, and then nuzzle his throat. I bite down, not hard enough to draw blood, and he whimpers, arching up toward me. "But the top one on my list consists of me making you come so many times it'll make up for all those days you couldn't."

I look up in time to see him raise an eyebrow. "What, I'm gonna say no to that?" he asks.

I smile and then lick my way down his body to his chest, as I slide my hand down to grasp his cock. "SHIT!" he yells, thrusting up into my hand. "Angel..."

"Just relax, Will," I say, looking up at him. "Let me take care of you." I lean down again to bite his nipple, and he groans, grabbing my head. I start to stroke his cock firmly, as I lick my way back up to his mouth, kissing him, possessively.

And the noises he makes, the groaning, the whimpering, they drive me crazy. Shit, I really missed him. It's scary, but I can't remember what my life was like without him in it, and I don't want to ever *be* reminded of that.

He sucks on my tongue as I thrust it into his mouth. He's moving again, thrusting into my hand, but I don't stop him. Hell, I haven't felt his hands or heard his voice, in so long that he could do anything now and I wouldn't mind.

"ANGEL!" he yells, tearing his mouth away. He needs release so desperately, and I won't deny it to him. I slide my way down his body and take his cock into my mouth. I suck him down my throat and work my throat around him. "OHGOD!" he moans, grabbing my hair and bucking up.

I hold his hips down as I start to purr and he screams my name again, as he comes. I hope nobody heard that, but if they did, oh well. I keep working my throat around him, drawing his orgasm out as long as possible. And if I weren't holding him down he would have bucked me off him from the intensity of his orgasm. As it is, he's breathing heavily, trembling, and whimpering, and god, he's so sexy when he comes. Well, okay, he's sexy *all* the damn time, but still. When he comes, the intensity in his eyes is overwhelming. That's when I know without a doubt that he cares about me, because I can see *that* in his eyes.

He's never told me how he feels about me, other than when he wants me. But I know he cares, he's just not as eager to say it. And I can't blame him, I never did encourage public displays of affection, or talk about love. Love wasn't for demons. Or so I insisted.

I'm so glad I realized how wrong I was about that.

I release his spent cock gently. He's still panting as he looks down at me. "Holy shit," he gasps.

"I'll take that as a compliment," I chuckle as I crawl up his body and kiss him. Fuck, I love kissing him. Hell, I love everything about being with him, to be honest.

He pulls away from my lips and says, "Your turn," sliding a hand down to my erection.

"God... " I moan.

******

"No, *Will*," I say with a grin before I scoot down the bed. And the look on his face as he looks down at me is just fuckin' priceless. Takes a while for him to realize what I have in mind. And I lick his cock, from root to tip, just to give him a hint.

He whimpers. "Will, you don't--"

I take him down my throat, because I swear he can stop telling me what I *don't* have to do anyday now.

"FUUUUUUCK!" he yells and I'm impressed that he doesn't just thrust down my throat. Not that I'd mind... but I think I'll just keep that to myself. "Shit..." he moans. He's just too damn fun when he can't form a coherent sentence, and it's nice revenge for how incoherent he makes *me*.

I grab his hips, guiding him down my throat, and then back again. He whimpers, dropping his head onto one arm. Yeah, I know he wasn't expecting this at all. Nice that I can still shock him every once in a while.

"Shit, Will..." he says. "So good..."

"Mmm," I reply, making him whimper again. I guide him faster, and he groans, the groan that tells me he's almost there. I shift, and just barely prick him with my fangs, and --

"SHITWIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIILL!" he screams, shooting his seed down my throat. And he still manages to hold still. That's gotta be taking every bit of self control he has. "Love you," he gasps, and I'll never get tired of hearing that. It took him too fucking long to decide to say it, but at least he finally *did*.

He rolls onto his back when I've finished licking him clean. And that sigh. Aren't we done with sighing, Angelus? "Hey, no brooding in this bed," I tell him, draping myself over his body. I kiss him quickly, and add, "New rule," resting my chin on his chest and looking at him.

He wraps his arms around my waist, sighing again. But that sigh was a happy sigh, so I'll let it go. "Good rule," he says. "So... what now?"

"Now we sleep," I tell him. "Need to regain my strength for round two."

"Round two?" he squeaks. I made Angelus squeak. I feel him getting hard against my hip, and that's okay, because I'm getting hard myself. But it'll wait.

"Yeah," I nod. "Oh, did I forget to mention that? I'm not planning on letting you out of this bed unless or until a vision *makes* me let you out."

"Oh." The surprised/turned on look makes me smile. I rest my cheek on his chest and close my eyes, actually welcoming sleep for once.

******I wake up, smiling when I realize Spike is still lying on top of me. I roll onto my side, easing him off gently, and then sit up. I have a plan, and I'm going to start preparing for "round two" as he called it while he's still asleep. I just hope The Powers take some pity on us and give us *at least* a couple more hours to be together.

I walk into the bathroom, and I'm hoping he'll agree to my plans. A long, hot bath together, and this time I won't have to keep myself from touching him. I start running the water, getting it as hot as he likes it, before walking back into the bedroom.

He's still asleep. Good. I open the closet door and pull the chest out of the corner. I'm surprised he hasn't noticed it yet, but it's just as well. I'm not sure how he'd react to knowing I've kept all this stuff. Some things are more harmless, of course, like the candles, and even I suppose the shackles. But other things I should probably get rid of.

I haven't used the candles since... a while ago. And he'll roll his eyes when he sees them, but he's as much a romantic as I am. I mean, *he's* the poet.

I take them into the bathroom, and put a few on the floor by the wall, a few on the sink. I light them, and then turn off the faucets. I walk back into the bedroom, sitting down next to him. "Will," I lean down to kiss him. "Wake up."

"Bloody hell, go away," he mumbles, turning away.

I can't help laughing. He's not a morning - or day - or an evening person either, for that matter. "You sure about that?" I ask, lying down next to him and wrapping an arm around his waist. "Because I thought for sure you'd want me to do something about this," I add, sliding a hand down to his still hard cock.

"Fuck," he groans.

"Something like that," I grin, kissing the back of his neck. I stroke him until he's fully erect, and won't want to go back to sleep. "But you have to wake up to find out." I pull my hand away, and sit up.

"HEY!" he yells, rolling over to glare at me.

I laugh and lean down to kiss him quickly, pulling away when he tries to grab me. "No, Will. Get up."

"And go where?" he asks.

"Not far," I reply. "Think you can stand?"

"Yeah," he nods. He gets to his feet, slowly, and manages to stay standing this time. "So, where to?"

"I thought we'd take a bath," I reply.

He walks into the bathroom, and I don't need to see his eyes to know he's rolling them. "You're a sap," he says.

"Well if you don't *want*--"

"Shut the fuck up and get in the tub," he growls, turning to look at me.

"If you insist," I reply, stepping into the tub, and sitting down. He follows me, straddling my hips as he sits by. I can't hold back a groan as our erections press together. I grab his head and pull him to me for a kiss.

*****

He *is* a sap. Candles and a hot bath... but I could get used to this kinda shit. I prefer to be independent, but every once in a while I don't mind being taken care of. And it's nice to be able to touch him and kiss him again. I've gotten used to having him around *to* touch and kiss and talk to. I missed him the past few days... more than I'd ever admit.

I thrust my cock against his, and he groans again,"Will..." leaning his head back and gripping my hips as I keep thrusting against him. I lean in to nip at his throat, as I run a hand down to his chest, pinching and tugging at a nipple.

He slides a hand around to my ass, and it's my turn to groan against his throat. Fuck, it hasn't been a week since I've felt him inside me, but it sure as hell feels like longer. I *need* to feel that, in a way that I hope he'll never understand. It would give him too much power in this relationship if he *did* know it.

His finger teases around my hole, not pushing inside, and I whimper. Shit, I hate when I do that. I grip his shoulders and push back, but he doesn't enter me yet. He leans his head down to nip my earlobe, before saying, "Look at me, Will. I love seeing those eyes when I'm inside you."

Shit. I look up at him, and when he looks at me I almost believe I'm the only one he's ever loved. Of course I know that's not... "Oh... god..." I moan as I feel his finger push inside me slowly. I can't keep eye contact, I feel like I'm losing myself--

He kisses me quickly. "Open your eyes," he whispers as he scratches a nail over my prostate.

I shudder, and open my eyes, looking at him. "Angel..." I gasp, when he does it again. "Yes..." I'm still thrusting against him, and the friction combined with the way he's touching me so expertly is pushing me closer and closer.

He's close too, I can see it in the way his eyes flicker to gold and back again, repeatedly. "God I love you," he says, as he presses another finger inside me. He scissors them, stretching me wider for him. "I need--"

"Yes, fuck, yes," I nod. But bloody hell, those eyes are too much for me. I lean in to kiss him, pushing my tongue into his mouth. I shudder as a feel a third finger enter me, and he's so damn careful. Not that I don't appreciate that. But it's like he thinks he has to prove to me that he won't hurt me, when I already *know* that his soul wouldn't let him hurt me.

And there was a time I believed that about the demon part of him but ... okay, enough thinking.

I start rocking back on those fingers, and then thrusting forward against him. Fuck, if he keeps this up, I'm gonna come before he's *really* inside me. And we can't have *that*. "Angel... please--"

"ANGEL!" *BANG BANG BANG*

No. No. NO. Not right NOW!

He gives me a guilty look as he withdraws his fingers, and pushes me back so he can stand. "I have to..." he trails off as he wraps a towel around his waist and goes out to the bedroom. "I'll be down in five minutes," I hear him say to whoever decided to interrupt us. And then he's back at the door to the bathroom. "I'm sorry--"

"Don't," I tell him, standing up and stepping out of the tub. I grab a towel off the rack for myself. "Just go."

He walks over and wraps his arms around me from behind. "Will, please don't--"

I push him away, with a growl. "Don't tell me not to be angry!" I yell. "We haven't had--"

"ANGEL!" Fucking GUNN! I could strangle him!

"COMING!" He yells back, and he looks back at me, with such a pathetic apologetic look. "I'm sorry, Will. We'll ... I'm sorry," he shrugs, turning away. He dresses quickly without saying anything else, and then leaves, grabbing his coat on his way out.

And I almost feel bad for being a jerk about this. Almost, but not quite. Bloody hell, I *am* a selfish soul-less demon! I throw temper tantrums when something doesn't go right; I *hate* not getting my way. And I won't change and pretend that I'm okay when I'm NOT. It's really pissing me off that every time things seem to be getting *perfect* between us, something happens to spoil it. Why can't we have *one* fucking *good* moment, and not have it RUINED?

And I'm fucking horny, and now I have to get off on my *own.*

*****Two hours later

If I'd had a choice in the matter, I would've chosen making love to Spike over battling a nest of slime demons. But I don't get to make those choices, unfortunately. Well, I suppose I *could*, but I *won't.*

And I hate that he was mad at me when I left, but I can't blame him. I suppose it *does* hurt when I go off to save complete strangers rather than spend time with him. But it's not that I *enjoy* leaving him, and I wish he knew that.

I walk into the hotel, finding Dawn in the office reading. "Hey, Dawn. Seen Spike?"

The grin answers my question. "Yeah, I'm so glad he's better." She frowns though. "But... he seemed upset about something. Did you two... "

"We didn't fight," I answer, sitting down next to her. "But we were..." How to put this, without giving unnecessary details. "Let's just say Cordelia's vision interrupted us in a ... moment."

"Ohh," she says, nodding. "Okay, that explains it. I asked him what you did to piss him off and he said he wasn't mad at *you*, just the timing of you having to go." She looks at me. "I think it'll be better when he can go out with you guys again."

"You're probably right," I answer, and I am *so* relieved he's not angry with me. "Is he upstairs?" I ask.

"Yeah, I could tell he wasn't in a company kind of mood, but I'm sure that doesn't include *you*," she smiles.

"I hope not," I say. "Um, Dawn, I was wondering..."

"Yeah?" she asks.

"I was just... wondering..." I said that already. Right. Me and conversations don't always get along well. "...if... well... me and Spike... you're still... okay with it? I mean, us?" There, I said it.

"Oh," she smiles. "Well, at first it was weird, I'll admit that," she replies. "I got used to it, though, especially when I've seen him so much happier than he's been in a long time. And I know you care about him, anyone who sees you look at him would know that. So it's fine, really. I just ..." She shakes her head. "I'm happy for you."

"You just...." I repeat. "Something's bothering you? Please tell me," I request.

"Not really bothering me," she replies, sighing. "Worrying, maybe. But it's not my business. You two are happy; that's all that matters."

"Spill, Dawn," I tell her. "I want to know your opinions and anything that worries you about this."

"Okay..." she says. "Well, it's just that Spike really saved my life, after Buffy died, Angel. If he hadn't been around, I think I would've run away or ... or something. But he always seemed to know when he needed to cheer me up, or when he just needed to let me be sad, or when I needed to get away, and... he's like family to me," she says. "And I've gotten to the point where I understand him pretty well, so I know he's happy being with you. It's just that...he would be mad if he heard me say this, so I didn't, okay?"

I'm not sure where she's going with this ramble, but I am sure I want to hear what she knows about his feelings. And maybe it's wrong of me to want to know from someone other than him, but he's not very vocal. And besides she's volunteering her opinion, nothing more. "It's between you and me, Dawn," I assure her.

"Thanks," she nods. "And he *hasn't* come out and said it, Angel, so it's me talking here. But I'm sure about it...He really cares about you. It's in his voice when he talks about you or to you. It's also in the way he looks at you, and it's just... *obvious* to anyone who knows him. And I'm telling you this because that's why I'm worried."

"Why would knowing how Spike feels about me worry you?" I wonder.

"Because he looks at you the way he used to look at Buffy," she answers. "And when she left us, it almost killed him."

Oh. Now I get it. And I thought *he* was protective of *her.* "Look, Dawn," I say, "I think I understand what you're getting at, but you don't need to worry. I love him." She doesn't seem bothered by hearing the words; I guess she is okay with us. "And I swear to you, there are two things I would *never* do, where he is concerned. One is hurt him, the other is leave him."

She searches my eyes for a minute, and finally nods. "I believe you. And I'm sorry for butting in, I just..."

"I'm not," I tell her. "I'm *very* glad that Spike has such a wonderful friend in you. And I'm also glad you butted in, because it isn't always easy between the two of us. There are a lot of things we have to get past before he can trust me completely, and he hasn't been that comfortable letting me know how he feels. So, in a selfish way, I'm glad that you told me that you think he does care about me," I admit. "I thought I knew it, but it puts my mind at ease a little."

"Yeah, well you helped me not worry so much," she replies, smiling. "And I know he isn't vocal about his feelings, but it's just not his way. He's more about actions than words," she shrugs. "Like I know he'd die for me, so I don't need him to tell me he cares."

"I know," I nod. "So... if you don't mind, I need to de-slime," I add, sitting up. "I'm sure I smell wonderful."

She shrugs. "It's not as bad as if you'd run into a Marchok."

"Oh god, no kidding," I reply. "You've never been sprayed by one have you?" I ask. Stupid things think they're skunks but smell even fouler.

"No, luckily," she giggles. "But Spike has. Buffy wouldn't let him anywhere near the house for a week..." She smiles, looking away. And I know it hurts to remember at first, but I'm glad she's not blocking out those memories. In time, it will get easier.

"Do you want to come up and watch some TV?" I ask. I don't feel right just leaving her down here alone. Especially if she needs company.

"Hey, no, I'm fine," she says, looking up at me. "It just still hits me, sometimes, that we won't make anymore funny memories," she shrugs.

"Yeah," I nod. "I know, Dawn. But we have made *some*, and we just have to focus on that," I reply. "Now, let's go," I point her toward the stairs. "We'll watch a movie after I shower off this slime."

"I don't want to intrude," she says, shaking her head.

"It's never an intrusion when it's you, and I *know* I speak for Spike as well when I say that," I tell her. "So come on, Young Lady. It's not a request, it's an order."

"Well, if I *have* to..." she sighs, dramatically as she stands up and precedes me out of the office. But I notice the gratefulness in her eyes as she walks past me. We go up to my room, and find Spike sitting on the bed watching TV.

"Hey, Bit, where'd you run off to?" he asks. He glances over at me, and I can see now it wasn't anger he felt so much as disappointment that I left. "You're a mess," he declares.

"No kidding," I answer. "Slime demons tend to have that effect on me when I kill them at close range." I head to the bathroom, adding, "I told Dawn she was welcome to hang out and watch a movie with us."

He nods. "Of course she is. We'll just find something while you're cleaning up."

*****

"So?" I ask her.

"So... what?" she replies, sitting down next to me and grabbing the remote.

"So where'd you go?" I ask. "You said you were gonna call Willow, and then you never came back."

"Oh." She keeps flipping through the channels, and shrugs. "I did call Willow, but then I stayed downstairs. I just... got the impression you wanted to be alone."

"No, I ..." I trail off when she looks at me. "Right, well maybe a little. But I was just feelin' sorry for myself. I've hated being cooped up in this room all week, and that vision was just... bad timing. We were talking," I add, because that's better than letting her think we were doing what we *were* doing. I don't want her thinking I do those things. It would be too weird.

"Right, *talking*," Dawn says rolling her eyes. "That's what Buffy used to call it when I'd barge into her room when she was with Riley. 'Do you mind, Dawn? We were talking.'" She giggles. "Like Riley was *ever* good at conversation."

"No, that wasn't his strong characteristic," I agree, smiling a little. And I'm glad that she's finally starting to talk about her sister. It's good for her.

"But hey, are you comparing my love life to hers?" I ask. "Because that's just not a bloody fair comparison, I'll have you know. "

She's grinning, and I have no idea why she's grinning. "WHAT?" I ask.

"Your *love* life," she replies, still grinning. "Are you saying that you--"

"Oh shut the hell up," I growl, grabbing the remote back and staring at the TV as I switch the channels.

She giggles again. "Spike, don't be embarrassed. I think it's great. And you two really are cute together--"

"Dawn, I'm warning you, let it go," I threaten. It's a completely empty threat, though, and unfortunately I'm not the only one who knows it.

"Okay, okay," she says. "I'm sorry for teasing you. But you don't have to pretend like you two aren't together. I know you are and it's cool. I really do think it's great."

"Whatever," I shrug, even though it is a relief to hear her say that. I don't want a reason to have to leave him anymore, if I'm being a hundred percent honest with myself. And it's nice that she won't give me that reason.

"Hey, find anything?" Angel asks, walking over. He smells *much* better, and doesn't look half bad now either. He put on a pair of black slacks and a dark blue button down shirt.

Dawn moves to the other side of me and then lays on her stomach facing the television. "Not yet," she replies, turning back to the television.

Angel sits down next to me in the spot she vacated. I look over at him and he must've read my mind because he leans in for a kiss just then. "I'm sorry about earlier," he says, when he pulls away.

I glance over at Dawn, but she's pretending not to listen as she watches some show. Oh, Friends. Whatever, I've seen this one. "Yeah," I reply, looking back at him.

He smiles and nods, "Okay then." Good, he got that that was my forgiving him *and* apologizing back. He leans back against the headboard, and puts an arm around me, pulling me close.

"Hey, Meet the Parents," Dawn says, turning back to look at us. She grins, but she must see that warning look in my eyes because she turns away again.

"That's fine," I shrug, relaxing against him. And today wasn't a perfect day, but it's ending that way, in my opinion. My girl,