Cause and Effect

Thanks mmmSpike, sorry about leaving you hanging so long. This one's for you.

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Chapter Fifteen
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Images flashed through William's thoughts. Different places, different times; they all had only one thing in common -- the vampire standing in the doorway causing him pain, hurting him. Panting as suddenly well-remembered panic surged through him at lightening speeds, he lunged forward, allowing senses other than his nonexistent sight to guide him. Desperately hoping there was nothing between him and his objective, William dove behind Xander, a single, new word reverberating through his mind. **Sire!**

"Don't let him hurt me, Sire," he pleaded, half hiding behind the human, half trying to protect him as he pulled them both backward, away from the still open doorway and the vampire standing in it.

The vampire -- Angel, he'd said his name was -- standing in the doorway took a step forward as soon as the words fell out of William's mouth, the movement quiet and loud at the same time. That confused William. How could it be both? He clamped down hard on the fear; though he couldn't quite stop *some* sound emerging from deep in his chest.

William again ducked behind Xander, his sire, the confusion, anger, and horror, all coming from the newcomer -- Angel -- virtually pummeling his senses.

"Make him go away!" William hissed.

"What did you do to him?" Angel demanded.

"Nothing!" Xander exclaimed indignantly, shaking his head as he half-turned to face William. "He's here to help, Will."

William shuddered. "Not! He's a bad, bad man."

Angel choked, muttering something about pots and kettles that William didn't quite catch.

"Not helping, Deadboy!" Xander snapped.

**Deadboy? Appropriate.** William giggled, but bit off the sound quickly, the sudden, total silence in the room daunting. "Sorry," he murmured quietly, the word uttered automatically. He really had no attention to spare for much outside himself. Now, finally, he had a name to put to the intense feelings he'd been nearly drowning beneath, and everything fell into place. He could be grateful to the newcomer for that alone even if the vampire's very presence made him want to run.

Xander's willingness to take care of him, to feed him, to help and hold him; it all made sense now. No matter how worthless he was, he had someone to take care of him, to teach him what he'd forgotten. That's what Sires were for. He had no clue why he was so certain of that, but certain he was. That was the only thing, so far, that he could feel down the very marrow of his bones.

He conveniently tucked away other, less pleasant things Sires did. And suddenly, despite his continuing fear of the imposing vampire still standing in the doorway, William grinned suddenly, enjoying his new knowledge like a beacon of hope that the rest of his memories would soon follow. Xander wasn't what his human *was*, it was his *name* -- like William was *his* name.

He knew it should have been obvious, and probably was to everyone else in the room, but to him it was a startling discovery -- pleasant, but surprising. Until this very moment, Xander had seemed more title than name, but it hadn't *felt* completely right. Now it did.

Something else, however; tickled the back of his memory. There was something *else* he should know, but he couldn't pull it out, couldn't figure out what it was.

"Spike?"

"Not Spike!" William muttered angrily, resuming his backward movement, never once releasing Xander.

"What? Xander, what's going on?" Angel asked tightly, stepping toward the pair.

William backpedaled quickly, continuing to urge Xander along. Despite his best efforts Xander jerked out of his grasp.

"How the hell should I know?" Xander snapped. "I called *you* because I don't know!"

"I *meant*," Angel explained through clenched teeth, "why was he asking me to protect him from you?

"Was not!" William denied vehemently, wishing he dared cross the room back to the couch. His aches were beginning to develop aches. **Other way 'round ya git!** he thought angrily. **Why don't ya just *leave*?** he continued silently, not daring to say the words out loud.

"Other way around, *Angel*!" Xander corrected. "My God! What did you do to him that he's afraid of you even when he doesn't *remember* you?" he continued incredulously.

After a long moment of silence, Angel sighed heavily. "Really?" he asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "He always calls you 'Sire', does he?"

"Um . . . no," Xander answered uncertainly. "That's . . . um . . . new -- very new -- as in, it's a first. Okay, confused here. And yeah, before you comment; I know, nothing new there. But, *why* would he do that?" Xander stopped, frowned, then shook his head. "Never mind. Will?"

William drew in a deep breath at the sound of his name. He may not need to breath to survive, but it was amazing how much it helped. Resolutely ignoring the presence of the other vampire -- who was surprising *still* just standing there -- he turned toward his Sire. "Yes?" he asked, wondering if he was going to know the answer to whatever Xander was going to ask.

"Why *did* you call me that?"

**Why?** William swallowed nervously. What was the correct response? 'Because that's what you are', seemed too obvious to be the right one. Why would Xander ask why? And suddenly he thought he knew why -- at least partially. It had to do with Angel being here. It was some kind of test. Unfortunately, knowing that didn't tell him the answer.

"Will?"

William sighed again, finally giving the only answer he could, and waited to be yelled at. "Because that's what you are."

Silence greeted his response, shock radiating off the other two, and William shifted uncomfortably in place.

"Can I just say, huh?" Xander sputtered.

**Wrong answer. I knew that was too easy.**

"Xander?" Angel asked, his voice strained and quiet.

The sound sent shivers down William's Spine. Angelus quiet was a fearsome thing. **Wait a mo'! Angelus?** William growled quietly, his frustration at not remembering, growing by leaps. These sudden . . . intuitive flashes were annoying in their ability to make him want to know more -- to know what went with the one word pictures, the all too brief surges of remembered feeling, the sense of all of it, his entire history, being just beyond his reach. Suddenly, however; he found himself foundering inside his mind, images flashing by too fast for him to completely absorb. Angelus standing over him, Angelus laughing at him -- at his pain -- Angelus pounding into-- A high pitched keening worked its way out of his throat, and the fierce only semi-heard whispering between Xander and Angel came to a screeching halt.

Seconds later, Xander's arms wound themselves around him. He struggled briefly until it fully penetrated his panic fogged thoughts who, exactly, was holding him. As soon as it did, he quieted instantly, and he buried himself in Xander's hold, the memories fading as his Sire's scent and heat poured over him.

He would have been utterly content were it not for the elusive feeling he continued to have that there was more to Angel that he was currently remembering. As much as he feared the other vampire, there was a powerful . . . draw there as well, one he didn't understand, and couldn't define.

He didn't know how much time passed before he stiffened again, hearing Angel -- no, Angelus – come closer.

"Stay back, Angel," Xander hissed.

Angel stopped moving forward, but didn't move back. "I don't know what's happened to you, Spike--"

"NOT SPIKE!" William shouted. Why couldn't he understand that? He was William, not Spike. Spike was bad. Spike drove people away.

**

Angel gasped, rearing back from the hurt and anger in Spike's voice. Even more confused now than when he'd gotten Xander's nearly hysterical call, he almost reached out. Instead, he forced both demonic and human instincts down and stayed right where he was.

The human part of him wanted to pull the wounded soul in front of him into his arms and never let go. The demon part of him howled at this favored Childe of his calling another *Sire*. That part of him wanted to destroy them both.

"I'm sorry," he said very quietly, trying to make his presence as unobtrusive as possible. He was good at that. He'd had a century of experience blending harmlessly into the background -- that, of course, was on top of all those long nights spent hunting. "I don't know what's happened to you . . . William, but I promise, I'm not here to hurt you."

Angel mentally shook his head, even as he said, and meant, the words. If someone had told him yesterday that he'd be trying to comfort a distraught Spike, he'd have laughed himself hoarse, then sent the crazy person packing.

Spi-- William pulled half-way out of Xander's hold bringing his bandaged covered face around to stare at him sightlessly. Angel had to admit it was rather unnerving -- especially when he added in the utter shock and disbelief rolling off the younger vampire in disturbing waves.

"Think about it. Concentrate," Angel said, hesitating only briefly before using the name Spike now seemed to prefer, "William. If you do, you'll know I'm telling the truth."

After a long, tense moment, William nodded hesitantly. "I hate this!" he shouted suddenly. "I hate not remembering, not knowing what I *should* know!" he continued, hissing, then winced.

Angel frowned. It w tho though William expected to be hit. "Who did this to you?" he asked, only barely remembering to keep his voice low and gentle.

"Don't know. I don't remember."

Angel opened his mouth to demand answers, to push William, but a hard look from Xander had him rethinking that approach. What he was seeing between the two men was . . . unsettling -- to say the least. While it went without saying that obviously Xander wasn't really Spike's Sire, the interaction between the two was amazingly close to the rare gentle moments between Sire and Childe. It wasn't anything he could pinpoint, just a . . . feeling he had.

He saw it a fraction of a second before it happened. Spike's knees gave out on him, and he sank toward the floor. He darted forward, intending on breaking Spike's fall, only to beaten to it by Xander.

"William?" Xander asked softly.

"Sorry. It hurts."

"It's okay, William," Xander replied softly, urging Spike forward. "You need to sleep."

Spike protested, but it looked to Angel as if it was all for show.
Weakened or not, if Spike hadn't agreed, Xander wouldn't have been able to budge the far stronger vampire.

He extended his senses as the two walked away, not really intending to listen in, persay, more to define the feeling of . . . wrongness he sensed. No, he corrected himself, it wasn't 'wrong', just surprising. It wasn't sexual. Well, he amended -- again -- it wasn't *just* sexual. He smirked as he wondered whether Xander had twigged to that part of what was between the two of them, or whether Xander was wedged firmly in denial.

The whole thing was disturbingly familiar, but he couldn't quite define it; though he was certain he should be able to. Xander's return to the room pulled him abruptly from his thoughts, and he realized he'd been so preoccupied trying to figure out what he was sensing that he hadn't heard a word that passed between the two of them.

Xander dropped wearily onto the couch, dropping his back to rest, his eyes drifting shut.

"Xander?" he asked quietly, something new dawning on him.

"What?" the young man responded, not moving, other than to open his eyes and tilt his head to face him.

"Spike isn't in nearly as bad of shape as you painted on the phone -- though this is the worst condition I've ever seen him in -- he looks like a concentration camp survivor."

Xander shrugged uncomfortably. "He's fed several times."

Angel's eyes narrowed, even as his nostrils flared, catching the scent of Xander's embarrassment. "Xander," he began carefully, "if what you told me about his condition when you found him was accurate, pig's blood, no matter *how* much of it he drank, wouldn't account for how much he's healed this soon."

"It wasn't pig's blood," Xander responded in a whisper.

Angel nodded. "I already figured that, Xander. Where did you get human?"

Xander didn't respond, just sighed, re-closing his eyes.

"Just tell me it wasn't yours," Angel continued, his voice taking on a hint of pleading. He frowned as Xander blushed, hunching down into the couch. Bouncing back quickly, however; he snapped his eyes open, glaring challengingly.

"So what if it was?" he demanded defiantly.

"Are you out of your mind?" Angel snapped, launching himself toward Xander, stopping himself by force of will alone. "Do you have any idea how *dangerous* that is?"

Xander surged to his feet, striding forward, stopping only when he was face to face with Angel, mere inches separating them. "Don't yell at me! What was I supposed to do -- let him die?"

Angel reared back, shocked at the youth's angry outburst. He almost chuckled, as he realized he really shouldn't have been surprised. Xander's temper had long been a part of the young man, and he'd never been afraid to get, as the saying went, 'in his face'.

Before Angel could respond, Xander sighed, and backed down, his voice dropping to a horrified whisper. "You don't know what he looked like, Angel. When I found him I was afraid to touch him, 'cause he *looked* liked he would disintegrate if I did."

Angel swallowed convulsively.

"He looks *good* now -- comparatively speaking."

Angel gasped, casting a reflexive glance at the door hiding Spike from view.

Xander went on, his tone quietly horrified and disbelieving. "When I talked to you on the phone, I described how he looked *after* he'd fed twice, not what he looked like when I found him. I don't think I *could* have described that."

"From you?"

Xander nodded.

There weren't any words, Angel thought, and even if they were, they would have lodged behind the rock that seemed stuck in throat. The only explanation, beyond the obvious that he'd been starved for who knew how long, was Spike had been virtually drained before he'd been dropped in that park.

A faint memory teased the edge of his mind, and suddenly, horrified, he snapped his head around to stare at Xander.

"What?"

TBC
Kiristeen
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