The Way We Were

Disclaimer: I own no rights and make no claim to the characters depicted herein
from in BtvsAtS or its entities. This is for entertainment only.
Feedback is always welcomed.


THE WAY WE WERE - Chapter 2

With one strong kick, Angel smashed in what was left of the rusted metal doors to the building where he had left Spike earlier, scrambling over the debris with ease. All was quiet and there was no sign of activity that he could see as he stood at ease and scanned the darkness with his vampire eyes. Any traces of the slaughtered vermin that had inhabited the factory only a few hours ago had been taken away by his minions, making the big vampire smile with pride at their efficiency.

He raised his head and sniffed the air, nostrils flaring as he took in all the smells of dirt, death and decay, savoring and sorting each one until he found what he was searching for. The hairs on the back of his neck stood straight up and his demon began to stir behind his eyes when he picked up the familial blood scent of his childe.

"Spike?" Angel's deep voice reverberated off the walls and came back to him as a tinny echo.

At Fred's urging, and without his knowledge, Wesley and Gunn had returned to the ruins to look for Spike. When they had returned to Wolfram and Hart without the blond vampire, Angel had to bite his tongue to keep from cursing out the well meaning, but errant humans. Knowing Spike's habits intimately, he knew from experience that any threat perceived by the small demon would drive him deeper into hiding and make it all the more difficult to find him...

Spike was burning with fever and vividly hallucinating as he shivered hard against the cold in his bones. Small, pain-filled whimpers would escape from his lips involuntarily as he fought to keep his sanity, but when the psychedelic colored insects and rats had come in a swarm to swallow him up, he lost the last shred of saneness. Frozen in panic, he screamed impotently in horror until mercifully, unconsciousness finally overtook him.

Angel's head snapped toward the sound of screams that he recognized as Spike's and without any hesitation, his long legs carried him with vampiric speed to the tiny alcove where the blond had hidden himself away.

Pale moonlight streamed in from the blackened sky and covered the trash at Angel's feet with a murky blanket, casting eerie shadows that tricked the eye. Although he couldn't see him, Angel knew that Spike was nearby. He could smell him, the familiar scent of leather, cigarettes and whiskey that was uniquely Spike, mixed unmistakably with his pure Aurelian blood.

With his demon strength, Angel plowed into the rubble toward the blond vampire's scent, easily tossing away heavy, charred beams, wooden pallets and other garbage that stood in his way, anger and dislike for his wayward childe fueling the big vampire's need to find Spike quickly. When he finally came upon a filthy mattress leaning haphazardly against a wall, he tore it away and gasped in disbelief at what he saw underneath. Huddled like a small, trapped animal, in a hole that he had scratched out in the dirt with his fingernails, was Spike.

"Fuckin' Jeezus. Spike..."

The blond vampire was dirty and naked, having torn off his clothes in a vain attempt to rid himself of the imaginary vermin that had come to eat him up. Deep, whip-like slashes over Spike's torso and extremities still oozed blood and bore witness to the beating he had taken earlier. As a last resort to protect himself, Spike had clawed out a hole in the damp earth with his bare hands and had crawled in, his bleeding and torn fingers a testament to his desperation.

Angel grunted curses under his breath as he worked quickly to pry the unconscious vampire out of his hole and lay him down on the ground. A cursory once-over the pale, exposed body in front of him told Angel what he already knew. Anyone who looked at the raw, ugly gashes on Spike's battered body could see that he had been seriously injured in the battle with the Selminth and would slowly die if left unattended.

Angel reached into his coat pocket, pulled out his cell phone and pressed speed dial. It only took one ring before someone answered it.

"I've got him. Is everything ready? Good... I'll be there in a few minutes..."

Angel snapped the phone shut and shoved it back into his pocket before he knelt down and picked up Spike's discarded duster. He carefully wrapped the small vampire's limp form into the soft leather and sighed heavily. Even though Spike always knew how to get on his last nerve with his snarky, cocky attitude, he was a brave and loyal warrior and Angel had always respected him for that. Coming to his aid, albeit reluctantly, was the least he could do for a fallen soldier.

Hoisting Spike over one shoulder, Angel hurried to his car and placed him gently in the back seat amongst a nest of warm blankets. When he was sure that Spike was secure in his coverings, he jumped into the driver's seat and brought the car's huge, V-8 engine roaring to life with the turn of a key. His prized black beauty rumbled in anticipation and when Angel shifted gears and hit the gas, its growl screamed louder as it took off, tires burning rubber as they left the industrial park in a cloud of white, oily smoke.

~ * ~

His body was burning up with fever on the inside, but Spike was trembling against the bitter cold that had settled in his bones. Another shiver wracked him to the core and he moaned feebly against it as he pulled his blankets tighter around himself, searching for any bit of warmth.

A soothing voice cooed to him softly as he felt another blanket cover him, but it was impossible to open his eyes to see his savior. Malaise and fatigue kept him from doing anything other than laying limply where he was and listening to muffled sounds while warm, glove-covered hands tended to him.

William had felt this way once and Spike remembered how sick he had been with pneumonia, when he had almost died. Mother had taken care of him then, tending to him all those days until she had saved his miserable life. Was she here now, taking care of him, her beautiful, little boy?

Something cool had been pressed against his forehead and then his cheeks. A soft, feminine voice spoke lovingly to him, calming him; all he could hear through his fog were softened sounds, but sweet sounds nonetheless. Spike struggled mightily to open his eyes to look at Mother, but it was so hard. He was so tired and so weak, but he had to try. Slowly, azure eyes did flutter open and he could see her.

"Mum?"

Fred smiled sweetly at Spike as she continued to pat the cool washcloth against his heated skin.

"Hey there, Spike," Fred said quietly. "Feeling any better?"

Spike smiled back weakly and wondered why Mother had called him 'Spike' and not his given name before he sank back into unconsciousness.

~ * ~

It had been three days and three nights since Angel had delivered Spike to the infirmary at Wolfram and Hart where the firm's best demon physicians had worked hard to stabilize the small vampire. He was receiving daily updates on Spike's condition and although massive transfusions of prime otter blood, along with periodic leeching had stopped the progression of Selminth poison, it would be days before a hopeful prognosis could be made. For now, Spike was holding his own.

His mission completed, Angel was enjoying the days of stress-free time away from his fucked up childe and was looking forward to the day when Spike was well enough to leave the infirmary and go home to his own apartment. He would probably need nurses and a good supply of prime blood to continue his recovery, but that could be arranged with just a phone call.

Three days... Angel smiled to himself in contentment as he sat behind the huge mahogany desk in his office at W&H, scribbling his name on the papers in front of him. Unlife was definitely getting better.

The timid knock on his office door and Fred's light voice brought Angel out of his revelry and crashing back to earth.

"Knock, knock, Angel. Can I come in?" Fred chirped shyly.

"Sure, Fred. What's up?" Angel mumbled without looking up from his papers.

"It's about... Spike," Fred said softly as she wrung her hands nervously and approached the dark vampire, trembling as she stopped in front of the monstrosity that was his desk.

"What about Spike?"

"Well... he's been here three whole days and you haven't been up once to see him in the infirmary. Aren't you worried? Even a little bit?"

Angel pushed some papers aside and sighed heavily before looking up at the shaking girl in front of him.

"And why should I be concerned about Spike?"

"Angel! He's lying in a hospital bed, dying for all we know, because he took the brunt of the Selminth's lashes to protect us... me, Wesley and Charles... his humans! Don't you care about your own childe!?" Fred shrieked at the top of her lungs.

"No! I don't care, Fred and I'm not going to explain myself as to why I don't. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have important work to attend to and so do you. Discussion over."

Angel went back to his papers, trying desperately to ignore Fred as she burst into tears and fled toward the door.

"I'm afraid the discussion isn't over, Angel," Wesley said solemnly as he caught Fred in his arms. Gunn, Lorne and Spike's physician were all standing behind him in the doorway, effectively preventing any means of escape.

Angel threw his pen down and growled. "This better be good, Wes..."

~ * ~

It was almost sunrise and Angel was still sitting on the couch in front of the necromanced windows in his office with a half-empty bottle of his finest Irish whiskey in one hand, an empty glass in the other. He took another swig straight from the bottle, then heaved a long, mournful sigh. The Powers That Be had kicked him straight in the balls once again and he couldn't help the besotted laugh at the irony of it all.

Earlier in the evening, Fred and company had invaded his office to tell him that Spike had regained consciousness but was still weak and in need of attention. That was the good news, they had told him. The bad news was that Spike couldn't be moved back into his apartment because he had been evicted several weeks ago for nonpayment of rent and he was being moved into Angel's penthouse until another suitable place for him could be arranged.

Angel had found that to be totally ridiculous and had told them so, but that was before Lindsey had produced the legal notices. It seemed that somehow, Spike was cunning enough to have the funds earmarked for his rent transferred into his personal bank account and after several months of missed rent payments, he had been evicted.

The sun was slowly floating over the horizon when Angel got up from his couch and walked over to the window, glass and bottle still in his hands. He watched glumly as the sky changed colors from gray to pink and then to orange as the smog appeared once again to replace the fog that always seemed to hang in the air like a heavy curtain.

Angel took another gulp of alcohol before he turned his back to the warmth from the windows and headed for the couch. After gently placing his tumbler and half-empty whiskey bottle on one of the glass end tables, he unceremoniously flopped his tired body onto the soft leather of the sofa, his eyes heavy with the promise of sleep.

There was no way Angel was going anywhere near the penthouse as long as Spike was there.

~ tbc ~