Summary: Spike hadn't taken a lover in a hundred years that Angel didn't know about, so in the end, Spike took all the blame.
Spike knew the plan long before Lorne did. He was never part of the blissful ignorance everyone else got to live with. While the rest of Angel’s mates were having happy last days, and before Spike had started drinking in the vain hope of finding his own happy ending, he knew.
He had hoped he was wrong, held onto that blind faith in Angel that came as easily as it had with Angelus. Spike was almost as convinced of Angel’s good as he had been of his sire’s evil. But as the bloody wet moments passed in the alley, he knew his instincts were right. The only real surprise was that Angel hadn’t pulled the trigger himself.
Every time the three of them had been in a room Spike held his fists at the ready, half expecting Angel to lunge at Lindsey, half expecting to have to fight off an attack himself. He wasn’t sure how Angel had known, but he always did. Spike hadn’t taken a lover in a hundred years that Angel hadn’t known about inside of ten minutes. It could have been scent or any of the vampire tricks they had both used, but Spike wondered if it wasn’t something else…a downcast look he wasn’t aware of making, too much effort to not touch when passing in a room, or it could have been Lindsey’s shit eating grin every damned time Angel caught them so much as talking in each other’s direction.
Spike really wasn’t as dumb as everyone thought. He knew Lindsey had been using him, long before he'd even known his real name, Spike knew he was being used. He had let it happen, hell, that first night in the bar he had forced it to happen. He never tried to stop any of it even after he knew Lindsey’s past with Angel and Wolfram & Hart. Not even at the end. Not even the last night he bent Lindsey over the edge of the bed knowing it would be the last time he thrust into a body nearly identical to his own. Not even when Lindsey gave out that little laugh that showed he really thought he had won a place at court. Spike had let him have his laugh and his plots and he’d kept his mouth shut even when he knew that the opening battle would be Lindsey’s last.
They had walked into the room in silence, Lindsey all white-toothed grin, Spike trying to ready himself for the fight to come, and the fight to come after when Angel would act like the thought just came to him as they were heading out. When he pretended that it didn’t matter whose cock Spike was taking or that he’d even noticed anything had changed since the night Spike left Wolfram & Hart.
Spike watched Lindsey follow Lorne from the room and nodded at him as though he’d see him in a few minutes. He wanted to rage at Angel, to deal or beg, but in the end he played Angel’s game, the one where the bad guys are always bad even though they knew different. He’d fight the good fight and when it was over he’d go back to being Angel’s lapdog, until the next time he overstayed his usefulness. Then Spike would take another lover and wait for Angel to start an apocalypse to rid himself of his rivals.