Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Fourteen
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Methos paced restlessly across the length of main room, crossing in front of Angel repeatedly. Each time the reluctant vampire did so, it pulled him from his attempts to read and finally he stood with an irritated sigh.

"How about we have that spar you suggested?" Angel asked.

"Great!" Methos responded, stopping his pacing instantly. A wry smile turned up one corner of his mouth. "I don't like feeling confined."

Angel smiled in sympathy. "I understand the feeling," he said, heading into an alcove. "What kind of sword do you normally use?"

"An Ivanhoe," Adam called out to him, and Angel heard the sound of a sword being drawn.

**He has it with him?** he thought, then rolled his eyes. **Of course he does.** Slipping through a door expertly hidden in the structure of the wall itself, Angel hurried toward a room he seldom entered. Scanning his collection of weapons, Angel grabbed a broadsword he thought should be comparable. He didn't actually have an Ivanhoe. Then quickly leaving and shutting the room back up, he returned to the waiting Immortal.

Adam had moved to the far side of the open area and was gracefully moving in what looked to Angel to be some form of sword kata. Watching closely, Angel noted each time he lost his center of balance by either over reaching, or not applying quite enough force. Even so, Angel had to admit the man was good, certainly better than he was, and he suddenly wondered how well Adam moved when his movements could be done on instinct alone.

Moving forward as Adam came to a standstill, Angel carefully worked his own muscles loose. "That was pretty good," he commented lightly.

Adam shook his head, frowning. "It was utterly awkward. I was completely off balance."

"You expected that, though, didn't you?" Angel asked as he set himself to ready position.

"Of course," Adam replied, matching Angel's stance. "I'm used to being taller."

Grinning, Angel feinted right, swinging left. "You compensated for having a completely different center of gravity, fairly well," he observed.

Adam darted around the swing, not bothering to meet the half-hearted blow with his sword. "Not good enough," Adam rebutted, bringing his own sword to bear, making Angel block, and as metal met metal, he continued. "All 'fairly well' will get me, is dead."

Angel nodded in acknowledgement. The man had a point. He had to deal with facing centuries old Immortals, many of whom had been born to use a sword. Angel supposed the slightest weakness, the smallest chink in his defences, *might* be enough to end his existence.

Angel suddenly set aside the running commentary and put everything he had into the sword fight, finally realizing there had been more to Adam's request to spar than the need to exorcise excessive energy. The man needed to do something to feel less vulnerable, despite his increase in strength and speed. He needed to learn how to move in this body as well as he did in his own, or as close to it as was possible.

Finally, after the fourth time Angel pulled a blow that would have connected, Adam stepped back angrily glaring at him. "You aren't helping me by holding back!" Adam snapped.

"This isn't a true fight to the death, Adam!" Angel snapped back. "I'm *not* going to actually wound you if I can prevent it."

"It'll heal. A sword cut won't kill a vampire, any more than it will permanently kill an Immortal."

"Maybe not, but it *will* take time to heal."

Adam frowned, lowering the point of his sword a fraction. "How long?"

"It depends on the cut, anywhere from a few minutes for a small scratch to a full day or more, if the wound is deep enough. Include multiple wounds and it could take even longer, especially if any were caused by wood or blessed objects."

"Damn!" Adam muttered. "I didn't realize vampires healed that slowly."

"Slowly?" Angel exclaimed in surprise.

Adam nodded. "I figured vampire healing was pretty much at the same level as Immortal healing."

"How quickly do Immortals heal?"

"Quickly," Adam shrugged. "A small cut heals in seconds, and unless there's really massive trauma, or repeated intensive wounding--"

"Such as occurs with torture."

"Such as occurs with torture," Adam confirmed, then continued. "--not much can't be healed inside a couple of hours."

"That will definitely put you at a disadvantage if an Immortal shows up."

Adam nodded pensively.

"Of course, you could simply stay out of their way. They aren't even going to know you used to be Immortal."

"I'm well aware of that," Adam replied tartly. "The problem is Spike. He's in my body, and certainly *not* prepared for Immortal combat."

"True." Angel hesitated to broach the next subject. Knowing it was a sore point of his own, he imagined it would be even more of one for Adam. "There's another factor to consider," he finally said.

"What's that?" Adam asked, turning away to clean and put up his sword.

"I haven't seen Spike in a while, over a year in fact, but he's lost a lot of weight. Add to that the fact that you're eating as little as you can get away with, you're going to slow any healing you may need to do."

"Bloody hell! Fine, I suppose I'll have to put up with the ribbing I'm absolutely sure to get, and ask Richie to play body guard."

"I take it he'll find that funny."

"Oh, he'll find it *hilarious*," Adam replied drily. "I will *never* hear the end of it. Unfortunately, it's something that won't stay just between us, either."

"Sounds like what would happen if I had to ask Spike for this sort of help."

"Just what is it between the two of you?" Adam asked, then hastily continued. "If you don't mind my asking."

Angel drew in a deep breath. "Now *that* is a long story, but the very condensed version is this; I'm his Sire--"

"Sire? As in, you're the one who made him a vampire?"

Angel nodded. "And since I made him more than a simple minion, that makes him my Childe, complete with a whole list of familial connotations. When I was cursed with my soul, I abandoned him -- all my Childer actually -- and that didn't sit well with him. Before then, he was my favorite."

"I take it being 'favorite' made the abandonment even worse."

"Yes, I'm sure it did. Being the favorite Childe of a master vampire is . . . more than being the favored or favorite child of a human. It's difficult to explain. There's so much involved in the relationship."

"Not necessary. What you've told me explains a great deal, not all perhaps, but enough. It's not all one sided, however."

"No, you're right, it's not. I have my own share of anger and resentment. But it's my fault that it started."

"So work on getting it fixed."

Angel's reply was cut off by the ringing of his cell phone.

"I hate these things," he muttered as he dashed for his coat, and the phone secreted in one of its pockets. "Angel."

//Hey, I can't believe it. You actually have it turned on.//

"Cordelia," Angel acknowledged, earning a worried look from Adam and a laugh from the woman on the other end of the line.

//Before I say anything else, tell worry-wort Adam that Spike is fine,// Cordelia ordered him.

It was with a wry smirk that he obeyed. "Adam, Cordelia says, and I quote; Tell worry-wort Adam that Spike is fine."

The tension drained out of Adam, but he cast Angel a dirty look.

"Adam appreciates your comment," Angel lied.

//Angel!// Cordelia exclaimed. //You weren't supposed to quote me!//

"You called for a reason?" he asked, chuckling at her outrage.

//Yes, of course. We ran into Buffy and Richie. We're supposed to meet at Giles' at four.//

Adam stepped forward suddenly, mouthing to speak to her.

Angel quickly ended his conversation with her, handing the phone over to his housemate.

"Cordelia, I need to speak with Rich. Could you put him on the phone?"

//Sorry, can't. He ran ahead with Buffy, chasing after Spike,// Cordelia apologized. //I'm pretty sure he'll be at Giles'. He and Buffy seem like they're fast becoming joined at the hip,// she continued drily.

"Sounds like Rich, alright," Adam replied with a light laugh, handing the phone back to Angel after he disconnected.

"We've got just enough time to get us both something to eat, and the head on over," Angel offered as Adam went silently back to caring for his sword.

With a grimace Adam reluctantly nodded.

**

"I do have one more question," Adam asked as they headed toward the car.

Angel motioned for him to go ahead and ask as they both climbed in.

Once they were both seat belted in and Angel had the car out onto the road, Adam continued. " *Why* does he call you Peaches?"

Angel groaned. "I *hate* that name!"

Adam snorted in amusement. "Another long story?" he asked.