Family Ties
I can't get the Angel and Xander of Bumbling to a Save out of my mind. So, they insisted on coming back for an encore.
Family Ties
Angel, Xander
Rated: SAFE
A strange relationship between Angel and Xander is disrupted by one more surprise, courtesy of the Hellmouth.
Angel opened his apartment door and very nearly shut it again. Unfortunately, he didn't close it quite fast enough.
"Hey, Deadboy. Today's lesson is on the glories of the modern educational system: Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Breakfast Club, and the incomparable National Lampoon's Animal House." Xander held up three tapes, dropping them on Angel's couch before he went to dig through Angel's refrigerator. Gritting his teeth, Angel told himself that this was part of his penance for a century of murder and mayhem. He also told himself that he wanted to get rid of Xander, but the fact that Xander was pulling Doritos out of his cupboards and already had a Coke from the refrigerator in hand really did make it hard for him to do that.
"At least eat something that isn't junk food. I bought milk," Angel pointed out.
"Nah-huh. I want my nice sealed Coke can because that milk has been sharing fridge space with your blood, and may I just say right now how bad that icks me out."
If Angel expected time to dull Xander's criticisms, he was going to have to wait a lot longer. Sitting on the couch, he looked at the tapes the boy had brought over. "Why I am watching films on high school? Why don't you bring more of those musicals? I liked Showboat," Angel complained as Xander toed off his sneakers and picked up the tape with the depressed looking teenagers on the front.
"Hey, the 'mostly dead' reference from Princess Bride, that so saved Buffy's skin... well, that and my powers of CPR."
Angel really couldn't argue with that. He wanted to. He wanted to point out that the movie had been inane and stupid. It really had been, but at least now he understood what Xander meant when he told Angel to have fun storming the castle as he sat on a tombstone and watched Angel dust vamps. Funny, he'd thought that backing away from Buffy would have meant seeing the boy less, but the less he focused on Buffy, the more he seemed to have inherited a younger brother... an annoying younger brother who was getting Doritos dust all over his couch. Angel looked at the mess in despair.
With a sigh, Angel got up to heat himself some blood.
"You're going to do the blood sucking thing right in front of me, aren't you?" Xander asked with a face.
"You're inhaling pure chemicals right in front of me," Angel countered. "Besides, I drink, I don't suck." He pulled the pan out of the cupboard and set it on the stove.
"Just keep that away from me because the smell of blood is doing seriously bad things to my appetite, and I'm a growing boy here. I need my calories."
Sighing, Angel just focused on his dinner while the opening credits of the movie started. "Hey," Xander called, "this sets up all the characters so you know their backgrounds, you have to see this bit."
Angel turned and watched as one teen after another got dropped off in front of a silent school. Why were they going to school if no one else was? Angel didn't ask because questions like that led to long and complicated answers that he often didn't understand any better than the movies Xander brought over.
"See all the pressure that asshole's putting on his son? So not with the cool. Wait 'til you find out what Andy did, and having been on the receiving end, I'm so not okay with what he did, but his father makes him do a lot of that stuff just with the way he acts. They should be able to make parents serve detentions, you know?" Xander snorted.
Detention. Restraining or confining someone. After Xander had served his second detention for not having homework done, Angel had finally caught on to the meaning as it referred to school, but that still didn't explain why these students were being dropped off for detention. Xander always served his after class.
Angel watched as a man in overalls told his son that he was a waste of lunchmeat. Angel flinched. Yeah, Xander was right, some parents deserved to take the blame, but then again, sometimes the punishments they received far outweighed any crimes they committed while trying to raise their children. The specter of his own past rose up, and Angel tried shoving it away. Tried, but didn't completely succeed. Maybe that's why he let Xander come over, so that he would be tortured with reminders of a life he once had. Angel turned back to the stove and swirled his blood. Maybe he just didn't like the young man being so alone. The first time Angel had invited him over, the boy had been sitting forlornly on his porch, and it didn't take vampire hearing to catch the vicious fight going on inside. Most of the neighbors could hear it. Now, Angel was never sure whether some fight at home or some unintentional insult from Buffy or Giles sent him to Angel. Xander rarely if ever discussed what was going on with him, even if he did make a habit out of torturing information out of Angel.
After pouring the blood into a cup, Angel ran water in the pan and headed back to his desecrated couch.
"The couch... so not a tragedy, so you can stop with the tragic face," Xander said without glancing away from the movie. He poked a chip toward the screen. "This guy? Snyder would love him. Snyder's problem is that he can't find enough sadists to hire as teachers."
Angel seriously hoped Xander was exaggerating. He probably was.
"So, what was school like in your day?" Xander asked before shoving an entire handful of chips in his mouth and then rubbing his dirty hand on his shirt. At least that was better than rubbing it on the sofa arm, Angel supposed.
"Strict," Angel said. "I had a friend who went to a hedge school and liked it well enough, but I went to a state school and I never learned much more than reading, basic numbers, and how to avoid getting hit with a very large stick."
"Hedge school?" Xander sprayed Dorito dust with his words.
"Catholics weren't allowed to teach and the schools tried to get us to not believe in the Pope, so a lot of boys, their parents paid storytellers or teachers who would teach out of barns or beside ditches or behind hedges."
"Really?" Xander sat up a little straighter. "You could get the whole rebelling and schooling things out of the way at once, which would leave many hours free for other pursuits, which seems big with the waste because you didn't even have video games to fill all those excess non-rebelling minutes." Xander nodded, and Angel didn't point out that in his day, children had very little time for rebelling. He himself had not rebelled against his father's beatings and insults until he got old enough to do it with a vengeance that had led to his own damnation. "So, your dad didn't go for the hedge thingies?" Xander asked.
"Hedge schools. No. He would rather have me protestant and wealthy than go to heaven. I suppose he didn't get either." Angel drank his blood and tried hard to concentrate on the movie and not the sick feeling in his stomach. Having Xander over was a little like self-flagellation, but the boy no longer seemed to enjoy the pain he caused. If anything, he'd turned pensive, chewing on one chip before pulling another out of the bag.
"How are Willow and Buffy?" Angel asked.
"She's back with Owen again. On again, off again, on again. Geez, he's like a yo-yo, and not in the sparkly fun way either because he can be slightly totally weird," Xander complained. Angel just nodded. Whoever Buffy dated would no doubt inspire jealousy and hatred in Xander's heart, but at least the boy was honest about that. After Angel had started backing away from Buffy, after he'd really seen how he was endangering her, both physically and emotionally, in a way he had never intended, he'd expected gloating from Xander. It never came. And as much as Xander hated Owen, and he did hate the young man, Xander never tried to break up the relationship Buffy was struggling to have with him. As much as Angel hated to admit it, a sixteen year old boy had been mature enough to see a truth that he at two hundred and seventy had missed. It hadn't been just the random, jealous babbling of some love-sick teen.
"Willow?"
"She's fine," Xander shrugged without more comment.
Angel settled in to watch the movie now that Xander had been successfully distracted from the topic of Angel's own past. The knock on the door came after the students had started smoking marijuana. Xander looked at Angel questioningly, but Angel didn't have any idea who might be showing up on his door. He wasn't exactly listed in the yellow pages. Yellow pages, another reference Xander had explained, bringing one over to use as a visual aid.
When Angel opened the door, he was temporarily so shocked that he didn't even say anything as the figure billowed into the room, a leather duster swirling dramatically around him as he stopped in the space halfway between the small kitchen area and Xander. Angel quickly moved to stand between them.
"Ta, mate." Spike sniffed, an affectation that was followed with a trademark smirk. "Long time no see."
"Xander, you need to go home," Angel said quietly.
"Long time as in...?" Xander asked softly.
"Go home."
"Right, this is me with the going."
Spike smirked wider, running a tongue along the inside of his lower lip. "Say hi to Bruno on your way out, pet. He's the vamp with the tattoo over half his face." Xander froze half way to the door, his wide eyes on Angel. Reaching out, Angel grabbed Xander's arm and pulled the boy safely behind him.
"What do you want, Willliam?" Angel struggled to find some calm. This situation was bad. The cramped quarters were far more suited to Spike's fighting style than his own, and Xander would never survive even being in the same room with two fighting Master vampires.
"Got a new bit then? He going to be the new baby brother once he's grown into his knickers?" Spike turned an appraising eye on Xander and Angel could feel the warm hand touch his back, seeking some sort of protection and reassurance. "All dark eyes, that one. Looks like your taste." And Xander's hand disappeared from his back.
"That's not your business," Angel said sharply, refusing to get pulled into Spike's game. "So, William, what brings you to the Hellmouth?"
"Just came from court. They say you're the slayer's lapdog. Funny thing that." Spike walked over to the chair and dropped into it, sprawling out as he frowned at the television. "Crap movie. Now Star Wars, that's a movie worth seein'. Anyway," Spike said, one more fast shift in topics, "court says you're sniffing up the slayer, but I've been tailing this slayer for a week now, and I haven't caught hide nor hair of you anywhere around."
Angel took a step forward, anger surging through his guts. He didn't think of Buffy as someone he could or should sniff up, not after Xander had said a few truths that made him see her as far more of a child than a woman, but she was his responsibility. He'd taken on a mission to help her, to protect her, and as much as he didn't want to, he would fight even Spike over that mission. "You don't touch her," Angel growled, barely keeping out of gameface. Spike blinked up at him, unconcerned.
"Slayers exist for us to kill them, you forgotten that or does the soul just muck with your head until you can't understand the concept?" Angel stepped back so quickly he collided with Xander and the boy gave a startled yelp.
"You know," Angel said quietly.
"Well, yeah. Not stupid," Spike pointed out with a frown. "Half the demon world uses your name like some sort of boogy monster. Be a bad little demon or the gypsies will shove a soul up your arse like with that Angelus."
"Soul or not, I will dust you if you touch Buffy," Angel said seriously. Spike just raised an eyebrow.
Calmly, Spike pulled out a cigarette and lighted it, casually blowing smoke into the room. "Yeah, heard you'd taken up stakin' the family. That's what the line's come down to, has it?"
"The line was always full of vampires who would stake each other over a meal," Angel pointed out contemptuously.
"True enough," Spike shrugged. "Doesn't mean you stake your own sire or childer, or did the court get that wrong, too?"
"Darla threatened Buffy." Angel watched as his words had an effect on Spike. The nervous twitch of his fingers stilled and for one perfect second, he was a silent statue. Then he pursed his lips and leaned back in the chair.
"Not sure what your game is here, mate, so this is your play."
Angel wasn't fooled by the cocky attitude or the carefree attitude. Spike had placed himself closest to the one piece of art that would best serve as a weapon, and he watched Angel with wary blue eyes.
"I don't want to fight over this, but for Buffy, I will," Angel said calmly.
"Just the slayer?" Spike asked as he leaned forward. His eyes flicked toward Xander.
"Buffy AND her friends are the ones I'll specifically hunt you down and stake you over," Angel compromised on. "I'm sure you can sniff out which ones spend time with her, at least if you haven't forgotten the lessons I taught you." Angel's soul demanded that he stake Spike right here and right now, that he end the danger the vampire posed to the world. Another part of his soul reminded him that he had created Spike, and the guilt of that made his stomach twist. Angel had tortured the boy, had forced him to watch as Angelus took Drusilla over and over. He'd dragged young William out on sprees of raping and killing. Before that, William had been the least bloodthirsty demon Angel had ever met. Now he was famous for torturing and killing. Angel carried the blame for that.
"Still not sure what your game is here," Spike pointed out.
"And you're not going to. You leave Buffy and her friends alone, and you don't hunt where she or I will find you, and I won't have to turn you into dust." Angel offered the best treaty he could.
"Bloody hell, sounds like you really might be tamed," Spike stood up, but Angel spotted his moment... the fraction of a second when Spike had his body angled just a little too far. Angel surged forward and slammed his body into Spike's. His larger frame meant that he had Spike pinned against the wall before the smaller vampire could launch a counter-attack.
"Don't ever think I'm tame, Spike, you won't live to regret the mistake." Angel hissed the words out, his demon's vision focusing on the soft curve where Spike's neck and shoulder met. For a second, Spike's hands scrabbled across Angel's shoulders, and then he went still. His head tilted a fraction, maybe less than a fraction of an inch, but the gesture was there. Angel drove forward, biting deeply at the offered flesh and tasting the blood of his line. He stopped before he could take much. If he did, Spike would just have to hunt again, and Angel didn't want that on his conscience. Slowly, Angel backed away, his eyes still focused on Spike.
"Guess that answers that," Spike said, just a little of the cocky gone as he reached up and touched the raw wound on his throat.
"Are you still planning on going after the slayer?" Angel asked, still in gameface. Spike stared at him for several seconds.
"Your offer of a truce good?" Spike finally countered.
"As long as I don't see you hunt. I'm here to stop people from ending up the prey, but..." Angel stopped. He couldn't come up with one reason for not killing Spike right now when the younger vampire was submitting and his instincts would work against him. Then again, maybe Angel just liked people who annoyed him, and Spike had always fit into that category remarkably well.
Spike shook his head. "You were my Yoda. Bloody hell, you were the one who taught me to enjoy my unlife, and now this is what you're left with? Crap all movies in some pathetic flat that stinks of pig's blood?"
"We all make choices," Angel said calmly as he fell back into human features. "So, what choice are you making right now, William?" Angel took a step forward again, and Spike angled his body for another attack.
"If your slayer is all that precious to you, I'll let you have her until some other vamp catches her havin' a bad day." Spike stepped away from the wall, and Angel backed up to give him a clear shot at the door to leave. Through this whole exchange, Xander had remained shockingly silent, and Angel spared the boy a glance. He was pale and not actually breathing. Angel wondered just how long he'd been holding his breath because that was not a healthy expression.
Spike started for the door, his swagger a little less pronounced than when he'd swept in. "How's Drusilla?" Angel asked when Spike put his hand to the doorknob. Spike's eyebrow twitched, either in amusement or concern as he gave Angel a strange look.
"Not good. Got caught by a mob outside of Prague, and she's failing fast. Hellmouth perked her up a bit and Dalton's looking for a solution."
Angel didn't answer, not even sure what to say. If he had a part in creating Spike, then he'd molded every inch of Drusilla. Her madness for killing children, her cruelty, her joy in torture... they were all the scars he had left on her before and after he'd turned her. Without another word, Spike was gone and Angel was left alone in the apartment with Xander, the movie still going. He turned, not even sure how to explain that exchange to the boy.
Xander frowned at him for a second and then at the door before he sort of wilted onto the couch. "And here I thought you drinking blood was bad for my digestion," he joked weakly. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to vomit. Passing out may follow. Actually, first I need to feel my crotch to see if I actually peed my pants or just considered it. What with the lack of oxygen there in the middle, I sort of fuzzed out."
"You didn't soil yourself," Angel assured him even though he knew that Xander already knew that. "Spike is..." Angel stopped. How did he explain this to a sixteen year old child.
"Family?" Xander asked. "Fucked up family, but family. Yeah, I get that. I'm totally getting it boy, but next time I'm complaining about my dad, please just poke me with a stick or something because your family makes mine look almost functional." Xander gave a dark burst of laughter, and Angel didn't bother pointing out that Xander never complained about his father. All of Angel's impressions about Xander's family came from standing outside on the street listening to them. Xander looked up at him. "We need to tell Giles," he said before he bit his lip. It was a gesture of uncertainty Xander didn't usually have. Whether Xander was right or spectacularly wrong, he was always sure.
"Yes, we do. If Spike's in town, he has a plan," Angel agreed. "It's probably not a good one, but he has one. However, I think this will keep until tomorrow. Do you want me to walk you home?"
Xander sat silent for a minute. "Um, do you mind if I do the couch-crashing thing? The parental units are off on the blaming of each other for the lack of money, and that particular conversation always seems to come back around to why I seem to suck up so much money and not give any back."
Angel grimaced. "If you can handling sleeping on Dorito crumbs, you're welcome to it," Angel said. "I'll get you some blankets." He pulled a set of sheets, a pillow, and blankets out. If Xander was going to admit that he wanted to stay instead of just refusing to leave until he fell asleep, then he could get a little more comfortable than sleeping on the couch with a blanket over him.
"You want to finish the movie?" Xander asked. Again, there was that uncertainty that Angel wasn't used to seeing.
"I actually think I need to go kill something," Angel admitted. He didn't like how that made him sound violent and unbalanced, but it was true. Xander just nodded.
"I'm with you there, well, not in the actual killing of things, but in the weird needing to do something, not that I plan on doing anything except sit on your couch and excessively channel surf. He won't come back, will he?" Xander glanced toward the door, and Angel used a fang to bite down on the pad of his thumb.
"No, he made his point. He won't risk starting another confrontation after he's submitted," Angel said truthfully enough as he let his hand casually brush against Xander's hair. He could smell his blood mixing with Xander's own scent as the new scent marker laid over the smells of older markers. Not even a dozen washings would remove all traces of vampire blood and the fresh marker would warn Spike that Angel was serious about protecting his own. Now all Angel had to feel guilty about was all the random people he was likely to kill.
Angel grabbed his coat and sword and headed for the door. Xander's voice stopped him as he was ready to leave.
"Hey Angel," he said. The VCR was already off, and Xander had the remote in hand.
"Yes?"
"You can't pick your family." Xander didn't say anything else as he turned his attention to the television and started flipping through channels at a speed that made it impossible for even vampire vision to identify the pictures. Angel didn't answer as he headed out of the apartment.
Family Ties
Angel, Xander
Rated: SAFE
A strange relationship between Angel and Xander is disrupted by one more surprise, courtesy of the Hellmouth.
Angel opened his apartment door and very nearly shut it again. Unfortunately, he didn't close it quite fast enough.
"Hey, Deadboy. Today's lesson is on the glories of the modern educational system: Fast Times at Ridgemont High, Breakfast Club, and the incomparable National Lampoon's Animal House." Xander held up three tapes, dropping them on Angel's couch before he went to dig through Angel's refrigerator. Gritting his teeth, Angel told himself that this was part of his penance for a century of murder and mayhem. He also told himself that he wanted to get rid of Xander, but the fact that Xander was pulling Doritos out of his cupboards and already had a Coke from the refrigerator in hand really did make it hard for him to do that.
"At least eat something that isn't junk food. I bought milk," Angel pointed out.
"Nah-huh. I want my nice sealed Coke can because that milk has been sharing fridge space with your blood, and may I just say right now how bad that icks me out."
If Angel expected time to dull Xander's criticisms, he was going to have to wait a lot longer. Sitting on the couch, he looked at the tapes the boy had brought over. "Why I am watching films on high school? Why don't you bring more of those musicals? I liked Showboat," Angel complained as Xander toed off his sneakers and picked up the tape with the depressed looking teenagers on the front.
"Hey, the 'mostly dead' reference from Princess Bride, that so saved Buffy's skin... well, that and my powers of CPR."
Angel really couldn't argue with that. He wanted to. He wanted to point out that the movie had been inane and stupid. It really had been, but at least now he understood what Xander meant when he told Angel to have fun storming the castle as he sat on a tombstone and watched Angel dust vamps. Funny, he'd thought that backing away from Buffy would have meant seeing the boy less, but the less he focused on Buffy, the more he seemed to have inherited a younger brother... an annoying younger brother who was getting Doritos dust all over his couch. Angel looked at the mess in despair.
With a sigh, Angel got up to heat himself some blood.
"You're going to do the blood sucking thing right in front of me, aren't you?" Xander asked with a face.
"You're inhaling pure chemicals right in front of me," Angel countered. "Besides, I drink, I don't suck." He pulled the pan out of the cupboard and set it on the stove.
"Just keep that away from me because the smell of blood is doing seriously bad things to my appetite, and I'm a growing boy here. I need my calories."
Sighing, Angel just focused on his dinner while the opening credits of the movie started. "Hey," Xander called, "this sets up all the characters so you know their backgrounds, you have to see this bit."
Angel turned and watched as one teen after another got dropped off in front of a silent school. Why were they going to school if no one else was? Angel didn't ask because questions like that led to long and complicated answers that he often didn't understand any better than the movies Xander brought over.
"See all the pressure that asshole's putting on his son? So not with the cool. Wait 'til you find out what Andy did, and having been on the receiving end, I'm so not okay with what he did, but his father makes him do a lot of that stuff just with the way he acts. They should be able to make parents serve detentions, you know?" Xander snorted.
Detention. Restraining or confining someone. After Xander had served his second detention for not having homework done, Angel had finally caught on to the meaning as it referred to school, but that still didn't explain why these students were being dropped off for detention. Xander always served his after class.
Angel watched as a man in overalls told his son that he was a waste of lunchmeat. Angel flinched. Yeah, Xander was right, some parents deserved to take the blame, but then again, sometimes the punishments they received far outweighed any crimes they committed while trying to raise their children. The specter of his own past rose up, and Angel tried shoving it away. Tried, but didn't completely succeed. Maybe that's why he let Xander come over, so that he would be tortured with reminders of a life he once had. Angel turned back to the stove and swirled his blood. Maybe he just didn't like the young man being so alone. The first time Angel had invited him over, the boy had been sitting forlornly on his porch, and it didn't take vampire hearing to catch the vicious fight going on inside. Most of the neighbors could hear it. Now, Angel was never sure whether some fight at home or some unintentional insult from Buffy or Giles sent him to Angel. Xander rarely if ever discussed what was going on with him, even if he did make a habit out of torturing information out of Angel.
After pouring the blood into a cup, Angel ran water in the pan and headed back to his desecrated couch.
"The couch... so not a tragedy, so you can stop with the tragic face," Xander said without glancing away from the movie. He poked a chip toward the screen. "This guy? Snyder would love him. Snyder's problem is that he can't find enough sadists to hire as teachers."
Angel seriously hoped Xander was exaggerating. He probably was.
"So, what was school like in your day?" Xander asked before shoving an entire handful of chips in his mouth and then rubbing his dirty hand on his shirt. At least that was better than rubbing it on the sofa arm, Angel supposed.
"Strict," Angel said. "I had a friend who went to a hedge school and liked it well enough, but I went to a state school and I never learned much more than reading, basic numbers, and how to avoid getting hit with a very large stick."
"Hedge school?" Xander sprayed Dorito dust with his words.
"Catholics weren't allowed to teach and the schools tried to get us to not believe in the Pope, so a lot of boys, their parents paid storytellers or teachers who would teach out of barns or beside ditches or behind hedges."
"Really?" Xander sat up a little straighter. "You could get the whole rebelling and schooling things out of the way at once, which would leave many hours free for other pursuits, which seems big with the waste because you didn't even have video games to fill all those excess non-rebelling minutes." Xander nodded, and Angel didn't point out that in his day, children had very little time for rebelling. He himself had not rebelled against his father's beatings and insults until he got old enough to do it with a vengeance that had led to his own damnation. "So, your dad didn't go for the hedge thingies?" Xander asked.
"Hedge schools. No. He would rather have me protestant and wealthy than go to heaven. I suppose he didn't get either." Angel drank his blood and tried hard to concentrate on the movie and not the sick feeling in his stomach. Having Xander over was a little like self-flagellation, but the boy no longer seemed to enjoy the pain he caused. If anything, he'd turned pensive, chewing on one chip before pulling another out of the bag.
"How are Willow and Buffy?" Angel asked.
"She's back with Owen again. On again, off again, on again. Geez, he's like a yo-yo, and not in the sparkly fun way either because he can be slightly totally weird," Xander complained. Angel just nodded. Whoever Buffy dated would no doubt inspire jealousy and hatred in Xander's heart, but at least the boy was honest about that. After Angel had started backing away from Buffy, after he'd really seen how he was endangering her, both physically and emotionally, in a way he had never intended, he'd expected gloating from Xander. It never came. And as much as Xander hated Owen, and he did hate the young man, Xander never tried to break up the relationship Buffy was struggling to have with him. As much as Angel hated to admit it, a sixteen year old boy had been mature enough to see a truth that he at two hundred and seventy had missed. It hadn't been just the random, jealous babbling of some love-sick teen.
"Willow?"
"She's fine," Xander shrugged without more comment.
Angel settled in to watch the movie now that Xander had been successfully distracted from the topic of Angel's own past. The knock on the door came after the students had started smoking marijuana. Xander looked at Angel questioningly, but Angel didn't have any idea who might be showing up on his door. He wasn't exactly listed in the yellow pages. Yellow pages, another reference Xander had explained, bringing one over to use as a visual aid.
When Angel opened the door, he was temporarily so shocked that he didn't even say anything as the figure billowed into the room, a leather duster swirling dramatically around him as he stopped in the space halfway between the small kitchen area and Xander. Angel quickly moved to stand between them.
"Ta, mate." Spike sniffed, an affectation that was followed with a trademark smirk. "Long time no see."
"Xander, you need to go home," Angel said quietly.
"Long time as in...?" Xander asked softly.
"Go home."
"Right, this is me with the going."
Spike smirked wider, running a tongue along the inside of his lower lip. "Say hi to Bruno on your way out, pet. He's the vamp with the tattoo over half his face." Xander froze half way to the door, his wide eyes on Angel. Reaching out, Angel grabbed Xander's arm and pulled the boy safely behind him.
"What do you want, Willliam?" Angel struggled to find some calm. This situation was bad. The cramped quarters were far more suited to Spike's fighting style than his own, and Xander would never survive even being in the same room with two fighting Master vampires.
"Got a new bit then? He going to be the new baby brother once he's grown into his knickers?" Spike turned an appraising eye on Xander and Angel could feel the warm hand touch his back, seeking some sort of protection and reassurance. "All dark eyes, that one. Looks like your taste." And Xander's hand disappeared from his back.
"That's not your business," Angel said sharply, refusing to get pulled into Spike's game. "So, William, what brings you to the Hellmouth?"
"Just came from court. They say you're the slayer's lapdog. Funny thing that." Spike walked over to the chair and dropped into it, sprawling out as he frowned at the television. "Crap movie. Now Star Wars, that's a movie worth seein'. Anyway," Spike said, one more fast shift in topics, "court says you're sniffing up the slayer, but I've been tailing this slayer for a week now, and I haven't caught hide nor hair of you anywhere around."
Angel took a step forward, anger surging through his guts. He didn't think of Buffy as someone he could or should sniff up, not after Xander had said a few truths that made him see her as far more of a child than a woman, but she was his responsibility. He'd taken on a mission to help her, to protect her, and as much as he didn't want to, he would fight even Spike over that mission. "You don't touch her," Angel growled, barely keeping out of gameface. Spike blinked up at him, unconcerned.
"Slayers exist for us to kill them, you forgotten that or does the soul just muck with your head until you can't understand the concept?" Angel stepped back so quickly he collided with Xander and the boy gave a startled yelp.
"You know," Angel said quietly.
"Well, yeah. Not stupid," Spike pointed out with a frown. "Half the demon world uses your name like some sort of boogy monster. Be a bad little demon or the gypsies will shove a soul up your arse like with that Angelus."
"Soul or not, I will dust you if you touch Buffy," Angel said seriously. Spike just raised an eyebrow.
Calmly, Spike pulled out a cigarette and lighted it, casually blowing smoke into the room. "Yeah, heard you'd taken up stakin' the family. That's what the line's come down to, has it?"
"The line was always full of vampires who would stake each other over a meal," Angel pointed out contemptuously.
"True enough," Spike shrugged. "Doesn't mean you stake your own sire or childer, or did the court get that wrong, too?"
"Darla threatened Buffy." Angel watched as his words had an effect on Spike. The nervous twitch of his fingers stilled and for one perfect second, he was a silent statue. Then he pursed his lips and leaned back in the chair.
"Not sure what your game is here, mate, so this is your play."
Angel wasn't fooled by the cocky attitude or the carefree attitude. Spike had placed himself closest to the one piece of art that would best serve as a weapon, and he watched Angel with wary blue eyes.
"I don't want to fight over this, but for Buffy, I will," Angel said calmly.
"Just the slayer?" Spike asked as he leaned forward. His eyes flicked toward Xander.
"Buffy AND her friends are the ones I'll specifically hunt you down and stake you over," Angel compromised on. "I'm sure you can sniff out which ones spend time with her, at least if you haven't forgotten the lessons I taught you." Angel's soul demanded that he stake Spike right here and right now, that he end the danger the vampire posed to the world. Another part of his soul reminded him that he had created Spike, and the guilt of that made his stomach twist. Angel had tortured the boy, had forced him to watch as Angelus took Drusilla over and over. He'd dragged young William out on sprees of raping and killing. Before that, William had been the least bloodthirsty demon Angel had ever met. Now he was famous for torturing and killing. Angel carried the blame for that.
"Still not sure what your game is here," Spike pointed out.
"And you're not going to. You leave Buffy and her friends alone, and you don't hunt where she or I will find you, and I won't have to turn you into dust." Angel offered the best treaty he could.
"Bloody hell, sounds like you really might be tamed," Spike stood up, but Angel spotted his moment... the fraction of a second when Spike had his body angled just a little too far. Angel surged forward and slammed his body into Spike's. His larger frame meant that he had Spike pinned against the wall before the smaller vampire could launch a counter-attack.
"Don't ever think I'm tame, Spike, you won't live to regret the mistake." Angel hissed the words out, his demon's vision focusing on the soft curve where Spike's neck and shoulder met. For a second, Spike's hands scrabbled across Angel's shoulders, and then he went still. His head tilted a fraction, maybe less than a fraction of an inch, but the gesture was there. Angel drove forward, biting deeply at the offered flesh and tasting the blood of his line. He stopped before he could take much. If he did, Spike would just have to hunt again, and Angel didn't want that on his conscience. Slowly, Angel backed away, his eyes still focused on Spike.
"Guess that answers that," Spike said, just a little of the cocky gone as he reached up and touched the raw wound on his throat.
"Are you still planning on going after the slayer?" Angel asked, still in gameface. Spike stared at him for several seconds.
"Your offer of a truce good?" Spike finally countered.
"As long as I don't see you hunt. I'm here to stop people from ending up the prey, but..." Angel stopped. He couldn't come up with one reason for not killing Spike right now when the younger vampire was submitting and his instincts would work against him. Then again, maybe Angel just liked people who annoyed him, and Spike had always fit into that category remarkably well.
Spike shook his head. "You were my Yoda. Bloody hell, you were the one who taught me to enjoy my unlife, and now this is what you're left with? Crap all movies in some pathetic flat that stinks of pig's blood?"
"We all make choices," Angel said calmly as he fell back into human features. "So, what choice are you making right now, William?" Angel took a step forward again, and Spike angled his body for another attack.
"If your slayer is all that precious to you, I'll let you have her until some other vamp catches her havin' a bad day." Spike stepped away from the wall, and Angel backed up to give him a clear shot at the door to leave. Through this whole exchange, Xander had remained shockingly silent, and Angel spared the boy a glance. He was pale and not actually breathing. Angel wondered just how long he'd been holding his breath because that was not a healthy expression.
Spike started for the door, his swagger a little less pronounced than when he'd swept in. "How's Drusilla?" Angel asked when Spike put his hand to the doorknob. Spike's eyebrow twitched, either in amusement or concern as he gave Angel a strange look.
"Not good. Got caught by a mob outside of Prague, and she's failing fast. Hellmouth perked her up a bit and Dalton's looking for a solution."
Angel didn't answer, not even sure what to say. If he had a part in creating Spike, then he'd molded every inch of Drusilla. Her madness for killing children, her cruelty, her joy in torture... they were all the scars he had left on her before and after he'd turned her. Without another word, Spike was gone and Angel was left alone in the apartment with Xander, the movie still going. He turned, not even sure how to explain that exchange to the boy.
Xander frowned at him for a second and then at the door before he sort of wilted onto the couch. "And here I thought you drinking blood was bad for my digestion," he joked weakly. "I'm pretty sure I'm going to vomit. Passing out may follow. Actually, first I need to feel my crotch to see if I actually peed my pants or just considered it. What with the lack of oxygen there in the middle, I sort of fuzzed out."
"You didn't soil yourself," Angel assured him even though he knew that Xander already knew that. "Spike is..." Angel stopped. How did he explain this to a sixteen year old child.
"Family?" Xander asked. "Fucked up family, but family. Yeah, I get that. I'm totally getting it boy, but next time I'm complaining about my dad, please just poke me with a stick or something because your family makes mine look almost functional." Xander gave a dark burst of laughter, and Angel didn't bother pointing out that Xander never complained about his father. All of Angel's impressions about Xander's family came from standing outside on the street listening to them. Xander looked up at him. "We need to tell Giles," he said before he bit his lip. It was a gesture of uncertainty Xander didn't usually have. Whether Xander was right or spectacularly wrong, he was always sure.
"Yes, we do. If Spike's in town, he has a plan," Angel agreed. "It's probably not a good one, but he has one. However, I think this will keep until tomorrow. Do you want me to walk you home?"
Xander sat silent for a minute. "Um, do you mind if I do the couch-crashing thing? The parental units are off on the blaming of each other for the lack of money, and that particular conversation always seems to come back around to why I seem to suck up so much money and not give any back."
Angel grimaced. "If you can handling sleeping on Dorito crumbs, you're welcome to it," Angel said. "I'll get you some blankets." He pulled a set of sheets, a pillow, and blankets out. If Xander was going to admit that he wanted to stay instead of just refusing to leave until he fell asleep, then he could get a little more comfortable than sleeping on the couch with a blanket over him.
"You want to finish the movie?" Xander asked. Again, there was that uncertainty that Angel wasn't used to seeing.
"I actually think I need to go kill something," Angel admitted. He didn't like how that made him sound violent and unbalanced, but it was true. Xander just nodded.
"I'm with you there, well, not in the actual killing of things, but in the weird needing to do something, not that I plan on doing anything except sit on your couch and excessively channel surf. He won't come back, will he?" Xander glanced toward the door, and Angel used a fang to bite down on the pad of his thumb.
"No, he made his point. He won't risk starting another confrontation after he's submitted," Angel said truthfully enough as he let his hand casually brush against Xander's hair. He could smell his blood mixing with Xander's own scent as the new scent marker laid over the smells of older markers. Not even a dozen washings would remove all traces of vampire blood and the fresh marker would warn Spike that Angel was serious about protecting his own. Now all Angel had to feel guilty about was all the random people he was likely to kill.
Angel grabbed his coat and sword and headed for the door. Xander's voice stopped him as he was ready to leave.
"Hey Angel," he said. The VCR was already off, and Xander had the remote in hand.
"Yes?"
"You can't pick your family." Xander didn't say anything else as he turned his attention to the television and started flipping through channels at a speed that made it impossible for even vampire vision to identify the pictures. Angel didn't answer as he headed out of the apartment.