"..fuggin' hell I swear.that is the *last* time I
help those bleedin' toffs with anythingbloody idiots the lot of 'em. Don't
appreciate me anyway."
Spike muttered a string of drunken curses as he staggered back into the dank
mausoleum in one of Sunnydale's fine cemeteries. Clutching the half-full bottle
of whiskey tightly, he stumbled his way through the entrance and blearily looked
around for somewhere to sit before he fell.
The night had been a complete write-off in his opinion. Called at sunset to
help the blonde Slayer and her pathetic groupies against a big bunch of large
and ugly fire-breathing demons was *not* a highlight for him. He
couldn't even begin to describe how much the experience had not been a pleasant
"I fight th' most demonscuz I'm the best.I kill th' mosteven more than th'
witch an' th' whelp an' th' Watcher an' th' werewo- no, wait..he wasn't there"
Spike giggled idiotically, the blond vampire's slightly slurred speech echoed
eerily. "An' I beat th' livin' tar outta *all* of 'emwellthe ones Boofy
didn't get to first.an' you'd think they'd be *grateful* for me help,
wouldn't you? You'd think they'd fuckin' donate a pint of O+ for me trouble"
Spike took a swig from his bottle and sat down on the edge of the crypt he used
as a bed shakily.
"But no don't even bother to help me patch up me leg." The blond vampire
winced as, if on cue, the large scorchmark running from upper thigh to knee that
peeked out through the rip in his jeans of the same size began to throb. Spike
upped his voice an octave and spoke in a bad impersonation of a female voice.
" 'No no no, I'm the Slayer - a bitch on a mission, and that mission does not
include helping vampires who've just risked their incredibly cute immortal asses
to save my tight one. What's more, I am an obstinate, dozy mare with less
fashion sense than the Turkish entrants in a Eurovision Song Contest.' " Spike's
falsetto dropped back to his normal pitch, and he giggled again, which quickly
faded into a sigh. He dropped back onto the crypt and closed his eyes.
" 'least my night can't get any worse"
"You know, I should probably kick your ass for that." The soft voice issued
from the shadows. Spike shook his head.
Just when you thought you couldn't get any lower
Angel emerged from the darkness like he belonged to it. He stood a few metres
away, eyeing off his drunken childe.
Spike squeezed his eyes shut. "It's just the alcohol...when I open my eyes
I'm not going to see the great poof himself..." The peroxide blond opened one
eye and, confirming that his sire was truly there, began a new stream of
muttered curses. The older vampire just smirked and stood silently.
"Oh for fuck's sake" the younger vampire cursed, refusing to open his eyes.
"Go on then," he said loudly, wincing as it made his ears ring. "Why don't you?
Stake my worthless hide and then leave my ashes the fuck alone. I've got no time
for you, Angelus." Angel's smile grew, but he remained silent.
"Well?" Spike growled irritably after a few minutes.
"Well what?" Angel countered, the amusement heavy in his voice.
"What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off being a nonce in LA as opposed
to this dump?"
Angel stayed silent for long moments, watching his childe grow increasingly
agitated before answering.
"I got information pertaining to the demons you encountered. Came down to
help but" he shrugged. "You stopped them. Didn't become necessary to make my
Spike took all this information in, before scowling at his sire.
"So what?" Angel answered.
"If you didn't tell your bitch of an ex or her obnoxious flunkies -- people
who actually *like* you -- you were in Sunnyhell.. why in blazes do you
show up on *my* doorstep?" Angel took a step closer.
"It's not really a doorstep. More of a big old stone entryway."
"D'you think I care what the fuck it is? Why?"
"Arrgh!!" Spike screamed in frustration and immediately regretted it, the
noise making his head ache. "Why. Are. You. Here?"
"I saw the fight." The older vampire did not volunteer any more information,
forcing his childe to press the issue.
"And? And if you say 'and what?', Angelus I swear I'm gonna rip your knackers
off and use them as paperweights."
Angel ignored the threat. "You were hurt. I came to see if you were alright."
His soft, sincere voice pierced the walls of sarcasm and hatred Spike erected
around himself when dealing with his sire. The only sound in the mausoleum was a
steady drip of water from an overhead column. The silence was uncomfortable. The
blond vampire cast a look at Angel, not knowing whether to snort in derision or
smile happily at the dark haired vampire's open statement. He opted for the
"As you can see, I'm doin' just fine. Now, if you don't mind or even if you
do sod off. I want to finish my alcohol and pass out in peace,
thankyousoverymuch. I don't need your help." Spike covered his head with a
blanket and rolled over, his back to Angel, cuddling his whiskey bottle.
"You need some form of medical treatment."
"Don't. Go 'way." The younger vampire mumbled. Angel stepped forward and tore
the blanket off his childe's body.
"Hey!" Spike yelled in protest as the dark haired vampire physically sat him
up again. Angel cast a quick appraising eye over the peroxide blonde, taking in,
among other things, the few scorchmarks that wore his black teeshirt thin in
"Coat off." He said quietly. The younger vampire's head shot up in disbelief.
"Coat. Off. Two very simple words, that, when taken together, form an
instruction." Angel's gaze hardened as Spike stared sullenly at him, not budging
an inch. All the older vampire had to do was to speak in the right tone of
voice, a tone of instruction from many years past.
Spike's eyes widened as he recognized his sire's dominant manner. Pouting
petulantly, he stood and slipped out of the black leather duster. Angel took the
long coat and neatly draped it over the edge of the stone sarcophagus.
"Shirt." Angel ordered. The blond vampire scowled and lifted the shirt over
his head and threw it on the floor, knowing it would annoy his sire, who was
anal about cleanliness. Angel rolled his eyes at the juvenile display, but still
it took a fair amount of his willpower not to pick up the discarded black shirt.
He turned his attention to his childe's torso. Pale skin stretched tautly over
well-defined muscles, that moved and flexed as Spike fidgeted. Angel stepped
forward between Spike's spread legs and lay a cool hand on his left pectoral.
The younger vampire tensed at the contact.
"Hmm.." Angel murmured, tracing a finger just outside a slight burn mark.
"These aren't too bad... your layers of clothing protected you for the most
part." He continued to move his hands around his childe's torso, shoulders and
arms, sometimes squeezing in a therapeutic, massaging way.
Spike's eyes fluttered closed. Angel moved around to the other side and
placed firm hands on the blond's shoulders, and squeezed the highly-strung
tendons. Spike's aching muscles cried out in relief as tension from the fight
and indeed, from the last few months, began to ebb away under his sire's strong,
Angel ran his fingers down Spike's spine, making the younger vampire shiver.
He leaned in close to his childe's ear.
"These should all be healed by tomorrow.. as for that leg..." Spike opened
his eyes groggily when Angel stopped his wonderful massages and moved back
around to face him.
"Pants." Angel's voice was barely audible. But the blond heard him anyway.
"What?" The older vampire did not need to repeat himself.
"Now wait just one friggin minu-" Spike's voice stopped abruptly as his eyes
met Angel's. Even to his alcohol-fuzzed brain, the inherent meaning was all too
Do it, or I'll do it for you.
Spike muttered a variety of extremely colourful curses as he undid the fly of
his black jeans. The blond hissed in pain as edges of the torn denim rubbed
against the red and blistering skin of his thigh. Angel winced in sympathetic
pain and moved to help his childe. They slowly eased the ruined pants down his
legs. With their removal, Spike was naked.
The blond lapsed into curses once again. He hated it. He hated being exposed
in front of his sire, when in such a clearly vulnerable position, both
physically and emotionally. Having Angel here, right in front of him, close
enough to reach out and touch... it brought back memories. Many of which were
good, but many more were painful and traumatic. The younger vampire bit his lip
to keep the emotions they stirred to the surface bottled in.
Angel leant forward and studied the wound closely. When he withdrew to fish
around in the pockets of his trenchcoat for something, Spike let out a breath he
hadn't even been aware he was holding. His jaw clenched and unclenched in a
nervous reaction. Dammit, why couldn't he have just passed out as soon as he'd
He was jarred out of what-might-have-been-if-I-had-more-whiskey thoughts back
to the present. Angel took a bandage out of his pocket. Spike looked at him
"Shall I have to start calling you the Vamp Doctor now? Since when did you
become George Clooney?" Angel smirked and took the almost-empty bottle of
whiskey. "It's the coifed, pretty boy hair thing isn't it? I knew you
shouldn'tve gotten that telly. Your whole image has gone to pot."
"This is going to hurt." The dark haired vampire announced before pouring the
last of the liquid out over Spike's leg to cleanse and sterilize the wound. The
blond let out an almighty scream.
"Fucking hell, Angelus! You could have bloody well warned me, you prick!"
Spike hissed and rocked back and forth in pain as Angel quickly began to bind up
his leg with the fresh bandage.
"Yeah, well half a second before the act does not a warning make." Spike
ground out. After a few moments though, his hisses turned into a chuckle, which
turned into a small laugh. The dark vampire looked up at his childe curiously.
"I oughtta haul your arse into court for malpractice." Spike bit out through
a gritted teeth smile. Angel smiled at the blond's comment.
"If it gets the law off my back, I won't charge you for this housecall." He
"I wasn't planning on paying you anyway. Besides Peaches, your bedside manner
sucks." Spike retorted.
Angel finished bandaging up the nasty burn, ignoring the terrible pun. The
younger vampire looked down at his newly-bound leg, and then up at his sire who
stood back to look over his handiwork. Spike tugged at the bandage.
"Not bad." he commented. Angel moved closer again to retrieve the blanket he
had torn from Spike's body earlier.
"Lie back." He ordered gently, pleased when the blond complied immediately,
using a crooked arm as a pillow and curling his body in a semi-foetal position.
The older vampire draped the ratty blanket over his childe's form, tucking it
underneath him. Angel ran a light hand over Spike's arm, watching tired blue
eyes flutter closed, before sighing airlessly.
Casting one last, lingering glance at the still form, Angel turned to leave.
"Angel?" Spike's voice sounded softly. The dark vampire stopped in his tracks
"Would you.. uh.. well.. at least until I fall asleep?" Spike cursed his
ability to properly ask his question. Even though he was more than half-way
drunk and dead-tired, he felt the instant his sire had started to move away from
him. It was like sucking all the warmth and air out of a room if you relied on
those things to survive.
Angel's lips curled in a smile. His boy wanted him. He walked back and
brushed peroxide blond hair away from Spike's temple.
"Of course I'll stay, Will," he murmured softly and pressed a kiss to his
childe's brow. "If you want me to." The corners of Spike's mouth curled up
slightly and he let out a contented sigh. Angel continued to stroke his hair,
and it seemed that in no time at all, the younger vampire was slumbering
"Thankyou" Spike mumbled in his sleep and pulled the blanket around himself
"Anytime." Angel whispered, and then he was gone.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
"Eaauughhh." Spike had a horrible taste in his mouth.
And a pounding headache.
And an aching body.
He slightly lifted the blanket covering him.
And not a scrap of clothing.
Minimal light coming in through the crack in the large stone door, signaled
dusk, confirming he had slept soundly through the entire day. The blond blinked
wearily, trying to recall details from the previous night. Images flitted
through his mind demons.. fire lots and lots of fighting trying to get drunk..
succeeding.. his sire.. falling as-
Spike rubbed his head in disbelief. There was no way the great poofwad had
visited Sunnydale just to patch up his sorry arse. It had to be either a bad
dream or a drunken hallucination. He chuckled sardonically at the notion of
Saint Angel donning a nurse's outfit especially to tend to his needs and swore
fluently when his head throbbed. The pain reminded him of his injuries. Looking
down at his bare chest, the blond observed that the burns and scorches from the
previous night's fight had all but faded.
He moved his injured leg experimentally, sitting up and carefully flipping
his legs over the side of his sarcophagus bed. Surprised to find it didn't seem
to hurt as much, Spike threw off the blanket that had pooled in his lap and
gasped. His leg was bandaged cleanly and firmly. And from the diminished
discomfort, it seemed it was healing nicely under there.
"It wasn't a dream" The blond muttered to himself, dumbfounded.
Spike sniffed the air. The lingering scent, unique to his sire, was still
discernible. Angel had really been there, really taken care of him. He had
really stayed until the blond had fallen asleep, just like he used to. Dampness
sprang to his eyes which he forcefully wiped away.
"The nonce pays me one visit and already I'm turning into more of a soddin'
nancyboy than he is," Spike growled. It was then he looked to where his head had
been resting and a small, white card caught his eye. The vampire picked it up.
Angel's business card.
Spike mutely looked at it, not sure whether to tear it up or not. His
decision was made unequivocally after he turned it over. On the other side, in
impossibly neat handwriting was printed a cell phone number. But that wasn't
what got Spike. It was the one word accompanying it.
A lone tear trekked down the blond's cheek, but he couldn't pinpoint for
certain as to why he was crying.
Possibly because his sire still cared enough about him to be worried.
Because his sire still cared enough to come after him and patch up his
Because his sire still cared enough to leave his childe a phone number so he
could be contacted again.
Because his sire still *cared*.
Spike wiped the tear away with the back of his hand and sniffled noisily. A
small, ghost of a smile curled at his lips as he hopped off his makeshift bed
and searched for new clothes.
"Anytime, eh?" He mumbled, pulling on a new pair of jeans.
"Maybe maybe I'll take you up on that offer, Peaches" Spike pulled on his
duster and headed towards the door. The blond stopped before he reached it and
walked back in. He looked at the card for a moment, before snatching it up and
placing it carefully in his pocket, before heading out into the night, whistling
a cheerful tune.