Turnabout

“Leave him alone, pillock. If he doesn’t want to talk to you, then bugger off,” Spike took an angry drag on his cigarette. He hadn’t heard his Sire return from whatever vital mission he had taken off on earlier in the afternoon. So he was surprised to find him in the boy’s room when he returned from a quick exploration of the outside of the hotel after dark. Angel was clearly trying to coax Xander into telling him about his time since he left the rest of the Scoobies in LA. Seeing the reluctance and self-loathing flicker across the other man’s face as he tried to side-step the conversation, Spike stepped between them.

“Spike, it’s okay.” Xander ran a hand through his hair before focusing again on Angel. “I just don’t want to talk about it right now. Okay? I know I owe you an explanation since you got dragged into this, but just for today, can we let it go?”

“Xander, you don’t owe me anything,” Angel began.

“Deadboy, you don’t know the half of what I owe to you,” Xander muttered without thinking. He jerked his head up in time to see Angel’s stricken expression get covered over by a careful emotionless mask.

“Thought you were gonna have a bit of a lie-down.” Spike noted the exchange but turned to focus on Xander, ignoring both what was said and the reactions it provoked. The comment concerned him less than Angel’s reaction. While he knew that guilt was a way of life with his Sire, guilt that seemed directly related to Xander roused both the soul as well as the demon that was slowly coming to regard the boy as his property. He filed the exchange away until he could find the means to uncover what lay beneath the human’s comment and Angel’s reaction.

“Yeah, I was. Just got antsy. I need something to do.” He held up his hand to prevent the immediate suggestion he expected. “Not anything of the world save-age, demon-ass-kicking variety. Something mundane. Tele-marketing, envelope-stuffing, sign painting, something.”

“I’ll see what I can find,” Angel promised.

“Now that we’re all clear, there’s someone downstairs,” Spike announced.

“Someone?” Angel questioned, irritated.

“Yeh, green bloke in a lounge suit.”

“And you didn’t think this was worth mentioning because?”

“Came ta find ya, didn’t I? Not my fault yer in here botherin’ the whelp when he’s supposed to be restin’. I got distracted.” Spike shrugged, unconcerned.

“Fine,” Angel ground out. “Now, if you’re not too distracted, maybe you and Xander can come down and meet Lorne.”

“Lorne?” Xander asked incredulously, “He’s green, and his name is Lorne??”

“Thank you!” exclaimed Angel, “Fifteen years on television means something to someone at least.” He led the way down to the lobby with the other two shaking their heads in bewilderment at his outburst as they trailed along behind him.

“Don’t even think it!” Angel held up a cautioning hand as they reached the lobby.

“These acoustics and you expect me to not take advantage Angel-cakes? Especially when I’m left waiting in the lobby?” Lorne turned with good-humour sparkling in his red eyes. “But, it’s getting late and it’s been a long day in the killing fields already, so I’ll save the showtunes for another time.”

“Much appreciated,” Angel stated. He watched his companions take in the green demon. Xander clearly was torn between dumbfounded and wary. The last showtune singing demon he had encountered delighted in causing spontaneous confessions before spontaneous combustion kicked in. He didn’t relish the thought of having that experience again, especially in present company. Spike smirked at ‘Angel-cakes’ and then affected a nonchalance betrayed by the tension radiating off of him.

“Hmm, I can see why you wanted me to meet this pair. How ‘bout it boys? Gimme a little ‘Hotel California.’” Lorne draped himself on the plush bench as he watched the trio on the stairs.

“Huh?” Xander turned to Angel for an explanation.

“Demon-git wants us to sing. What for?” Spike rounded on the other vampire, game-face flickering to the fore.

“Ooo. That’s quite the Sire-complex you’ve got working for you sweet-cheeks. Soul aside…” Lorne found his words choked off as Spike landed on him, hands around his neck.

“Spike!” dual cries from Angel and Xander pulled the enraged vampire up short. Angel crossed the lobby faster than Xander could see and yanked his furious Childe off of his co-worker.

“Enough. Don’t make me lock you up, boy” Angel growled, channeling Angelus.

“S’alright Angel-kins. My fault entirely,” Lorne adjusted his collar. “I take it you didn’t tell them I was coming?”

Angel had the grace to look guilty.

“Alrighty then.” He clapped his hands together. “Gather round my lovelies, and let me explain what our fearless leader here clearly forgot to mention.” Lorne sunk back down onto the bench and crossed his legs elegantly. “I’m Lorne. I work with the big-guy in the entertainment division of Wolfram and Hart. I also happen to be an anagogic demon, which tends to come in handy in casting decisions, let me tell you. I took one look at Demi yesterday, and I just knew that the director’s plan to pair her up with Bruce in the new Die Hard would end up in more explosions behind the scenes than on-screen. But did he listen? By the way, it looks like we might have to jump ship on that little project, boss.” He turned to Angel and, taking in the vampire’s impatience, hastened to return to the subject at hand.

“Well, you probably caught the demon part.” He gestured grandly to his face and horns. “Anagogic meaning I read folks. Set them on their paths as it were. It works best when you’re singing. Hence the request. Are we all caught up now?”

“’Cept why yer here,” Spike snarled.

“Spike, chill. It’s obvious why he’s here. Angel wants him to read us.” Xander turned to the vampire, his face set in hard lines. “Isn’t that right? It wouldn’t be sufficient for the almighty Angel to hear from us. He needs to bring in a mind-reader to make sure he can trust us.”

“That’s not it exactly,” Angel shifted uneasily.

“Forget it. I don’t want anyone in my head. I don’t want anyone reading my path” He turned back to Lorne. “No offense and I’m sorry Angel wasted your time.” Xander turned and stalked back upstairs. A moment later they heard a door slam.

“Nice goin’, mate.”

“Spike,” Angel ground out warningly.

“What? Not my fault you got all _1984_ and had to know what everyone’s thinkin’. How’d you expect him to take it? Just give over and sing his lil' heart out? Not bloody likely.” He snorted and lit up another cigarette. “And don’t you go getting’ any ideas about readin’ me neither, Mr. Green Jeans. I choose m’own path and I don’t need any demon psychic to tell me different.” He turned to follow Xander up the stairs.

“Well, that went well,” Angel muttered, “Did you get anything?”

“Oh, I got plenty, tall, dark and broody. I’m just not sure what you need to know just now.”

“Lorne, Spike and Xander are my responsibility. I brought them here. I need to know what’s going on with them. I need to know how to help them.”

“But that’s not all you want to know is it? The three of you are billboards shining in the night, my friend. I can’t tell you everything at work here, but I can tell you this. You’re all on the path, and a rocky one at that, so pay attention. Keep doing what you’re doing and you’ll stay on track.”

“What does that mean? Keep doing what we’re doing.”

“It means what it means,” Lorne stood to leave. “Bring them to the club sometime. Sometime when they choose to sing. Not when you choose for them. That way leads way off the path, and we’ve seen what happens when you wander off the yellow-brick road, haven’t we, Dorothy.”

“No choosing for them. That’s the path?” Angel shook his head. When could he ever trust Spike’s choices and judging from where they’d found Xander, the human’s ability to choose wasn’t much better.

“The three of you are in this together, but those two will be doing most of the work. You’re going to have to let that happen and be there when they ask.” Lorne captured Angel’s gaze and held it. “And Angel-puss, they will ask. In the meantime, find that boy something to do. Don’t give him something, help him find something. Talk to him, see what he’s done before, what he enjoys.”

“Let him choose?”

“Now you’re getting it, sugarplum.” Lorne grinned. “See you back at the office?”

“Hmm? Oh, yeah, I’ll be in tomorrow. I just wanted to get them settled in today.”

“Good. From what I’ve heard, the troops aren’t ready to be leaderless just yet. Some of those lawyers are getting mighty antsy to start making choices themselves, if you know what I mean.”

“I *am* still allowed to make choices there,” Angel all but growled.

“Allowed and required for now.” Lorne swept out the door on that final note.

At least if he went back to the office, he wouldn’t have to worry about annoying Spike or alienating Xander for a good part of the day. Now if he could just find something for Xander—and Spike, he added mentally—to do. He considered what he knew of the boy and tried to identify any work that he might enjoy. Unfortunately, the first image that came to mind was Xander’s sweat-slicked form undulating in tight leather under spotlights, responding obediently as the other dancer yanked on the leash and collar around his neck. Angel groaned and shifted his suddenly too-tight pants. Rather than following his charges upstairs, Angel decided to relive that summer night in the privacy of his training room in the basement, far enough away to keep either of his guests from figuring out what he was up to.

Although the last thing he wanted Xander toose ose was to take up stripping again—and hadn’t the boy assured him it was a one-night event, just a s-in -in for another dancer—he couldn’t shake the memory that had been pressing in on him since he saw the other man standing so broken and silently screaming with pain and need in that hotel room last night. He recognized that he saw a Xander that Spike couldn’t. Spike might be able to identify prey and recognize that tendency in Xander, but he wouldn’t immediately read the dark undertones that Angel already knew existed. Those dark undertones called out to him again to take and own, to grant the boy the pain and punishment he so desired. Angel bolted the door behind him, assured that thus secluded he could address the memory and the temptation that Xander represented.

Opening the floodgates to memory, he returned to that night so many years ago. Guilt competed with lust as he visualized that tanned flesh spread flat out on a dingy motel room bed. Flesh that had reddened under first the open-handed slap of his hands and then the suede leather tresses of a flogging whip. Mistress Viola’s reminder of Angelus’ proclivity for taking virgins floated through his mind dee deepened his sense of shame while simultaneously heightening his arousal. Angel groaned and leaned back against the door, his eyes sliding closed. Impatiently, he unzipped his pants and pulled out his weeping cock. Over the years since that night at the Fabulous Ladies Night Club, he had forbidden himself the memory of watching Xander dance, of following himk tok to his dressing room and then his motel room, of stripping him, fucking him and finally biting him.

The vampire pulled in a deep breath and licked his lips as he recalled the warm, bright taste of Xander’s blood rushing across his tongue, and he pulled viciously at his cock, wanting to climax and punish himself simultaneously. He had used the boy that night. What did it matter that Xander submitted to his advances? Pit an eighteen year old human against a 250 year old master vampire, and it wasn’t as if the boy really had much option to refuse, he thought bitterly. Whipping Xander had been one thing, but losing control and biting the boy had been an unforgivable step over the line of trust. Angel remembered how he had lost himself in the eroticism of the moment as he had slammed his demanding cock into the hot human ass and then without thought bit deep into the tanned shoulder. He hated that that moment could still make him harder than reliving any moment with Buffy, and he had managed to avoid thinking about Xander as effectively as he had managed to avoid seeing the boy the next morning. Disappearing into the night without so much as a ‘thank you’ capped off the shameful encounter. Now the boy was under his roof, and he could feel the same draw to dominate him through sex and pain.

As his hand yanked his cock into orgasm, shooting cool cum onto the floor in front of him, Angel hung his head and berated himself for giving in to sexual fantasies about the broken human that his estranged grand-childe treated with such tender compassion. Maybe he really was a monster. He tucked himself away in disgust and decided that he would do whatever necessary to help Xander, even if that meant staying away from the human and trusting Spike to care for him.