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Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

Buffy
by The Brat Queen, Meredith and Keren

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: PG

Summary: Buffy and Wesley are forced to team up when Angel and Spike are kidnapped.

Author's Note: If you'd like to read the non-slash, Buffy & Spike related portions of this story, then head over to The Clash

"You know, not enough kids in this city do cross stitching."

Wesley paused in the middle of his notes, looking over at Gunn. "Beg pardon?"

"Cross stitching," Gunn said. He mimed the action with his hands. "You know? Little samplers that say 'Bless This Mess'? My grams used to make those all the time."

Intrigued, Wesley put down his paperwork, folded his hands in front of him, and gave Gunn his full attention. "I see. And what does that have to do with our current case?"

Gunn shrugged. "Just saying - you spend your whole day trying to untangle floss and you ain't got much time for funky ass spells that raise demons. Sounds like a good trade to me."

"I don't know," Cordelia said from her perch by the computer. "My aunt used to do those too and let me say - demons? Less tacky."

"See now," Gunn said, "she didn't do 'em right, 'cause-"

He was interrupted by the sound of a cellphone ringing. They all reached into their pockets, but only Cordy emerged triumphant.

"It's mine," she said, flipping it open and answering at once. "Gustave, I know I was supposed to call you back, but seriously - I did not blow that audition and it is not epilepsy, I swear. And I can do it over, I promise, and I will be great next time. You should've seen me in actor's studio last night. I was on! I mean, ok, maybe -" Cordelia stopped, frowning as she listened to the caller. "Buffy?"

Wesley looked up.

"Huh?" Cordy frantically gestured towards Wesley and Gunn, motioning them to come over. "What? Angel's missing? You're at the hotel?"

Wesley suddenly heard Angel's voice in his mind. You need me for that? I was thinking of going back to the hotel.

Gunn glanced down at him. "Didn't know Angel and Buffy had a date."

"He's missing," Wesley repeated, forcing himself to focus on that. "Perhaps he didn't make it?"

Cordy spoke up once more. "Um, yeah, ok. Stay there. And don't touch anything!" She hung up, throwing her phone back into her bag.

"Cordy," Wesley said, "What's going on?"

"I have no idea," she replied. "Buffy's in town. She said something about Angel and Spike - "

Gunn interrupted. "Who's Spike?"

"Angel's grandson," Wesley said, absently.

"You mean grandson like in the fangy sense?" Gunn asked.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "No, Angel's real grandson. After 248 years, he wanted to put a picture on the fridge. Yes, the fangy kind!"

"No matter what, there's bound to be trouble," Wesley said, getting out of his chair and pulling on his coat. "Grab your supplies and let's go."

They gathered their weapons and piled into Gunn's truck. Along the way, Wesley gave Cordelia and Gunn the general details of Spike's condition.

"Neutered vampires?" Gunn asked. "See me crying?"

"It seems to be effective," Wesley replied. "Or it was, before the organization collapsed. Buffy - trusts him. To fight with her."

Cordelia shook her head, getting out of the truck as Gunn parked in front of the Hyperion. "Well I don't know what Buffy says, but if you ask me, a little piece of silicon in the middle of Spike's brain is not enough to make me wanna start giving the guy an invitation to dinner because, let's face it, dinner on those occasions usually means me! I mean assuming he's not back on the whole abandoned factory or Gem of Amara thing. And what is it with Buffy and the vampire sidekicks anyway? Because it's not like that worked out real well last time." Opening the hotel doors and seeing Buffy sitting on the countertop, Cordy plastered a smile onto her face and offered a greeting. "Buffy!"

"Yeah, they're here," Buffy said into the phone. "If you find out anything let me know. Thanks Giles." Buffy hung up, jumped off of the counter, and looked at the three of them. "Cordelia, and Wesley, and...you. Hi."

Wesley made a small gesture of introduction as he took in the sight of the ravaged lobby. "Buffy, this is our associate, Charles Gunn."

"Hey, nice to meet you," Gunn said, then looked around. "Looks like somebody forgot to pay his 'not getting my ass kicked' insurance."

"There are signs of a struggle, certainly," Wesley replied. Turning around, he saw what was obviously an axe mark in the wall. However the axe in question - if the flakes of plaster along the blade were any indication - had been placed in Angel's umbrella stand. "That doesn't belong there. Buffy, did you notice anything unusual, anything besides this?"

"Yes," Buffy replied, holding up two stakes. "This and this. And Spike's cell phone. No dust though."

Wesley felt a twinge of annoyance that Buffy had moved things around before he could examine them. "I see."

"So, any major baddies after Angel lately?" Buffy asked. "Any ideas who did this?"

"Pfft. Who isn't after Angel lately?" Cordy asked. "There's Darla, there's demons, there's..." Cordelia looked over at Wesley, then felt an apparent need to change the subject as she moved to the other side of the room. "- evidence over here I bet."

"Great," Buffy said. "Between that and all the people Spike has pissed off, we're left with everyone. Wait - Darla?"

Wesley knelt down to examine some scuff marks on the floor. "Wolfram & Hart raised her from the dead last year. Are you sure this is everything?"

Gunn called over from across the room. "Got leftovers from some nasty fight over here."

"The creepy lawyers that hired Faith to kill Angel?" Buffy asked. "And no, I'm not sure that's everything. I'm the Slayer, not the forensics team."

"Obviously," Wesley replied, under his breath. Speaking more clearly he said "Those are Angel's stakes. Keep looking. Cordelia, you might want to check upstairs. Gunn, check the basement. Buffy, why are you and Spike in Los Angeles?"

"Sightseeing," Buffy said.

Hearing Buffy's comment, Cordelia paused on the staircase. "But not upstairs, right?"

Wesley flashed her a look of irritation which he hoped in some way conveyed the fact that yes, Buffy knew about him and Angel. Even if it didn't, it was enough to get Cordy the rest of the way upstairs. Wesley turned his attention back to Buffy then. "Did you do anything that might have called attention to yourselves?"

Buffy sighed. "He took me to visit Faith, that's it."

Wesley frowned as he started looking around the furniture for clues. "Why on earth did you need to see Faith?"

"Doing my good deed for the day," Buffy said. "Look, that's none of your business and it's really not the point."

Wesley drew himself up. "Buffy, I realize in Sunnydale such matters might seem irrelevant, but you'll find that here in Los Angeles these things have a far greater importance. There are enemies here that you aren't even aware of."

"Oh I see," Buffy replied. "You've graduated to the big leagues now. But of course I wouldn't know that since I spent a good amount of time protecting all of Sunnydale with you hiding behind me. Sometimes screaming."

Wesley gave her a thin-lipped smile. "Buffy, it is categorically impossible for anyone to hide behind you, considering that never in your life have you stayed in one place and done what you're told."

"Keeps me alive, doesn't it?" she said.

Wesley found himself wondering if that mattered. "Yes, of course."

There was a sound of a door closing as Gunn returned from the basement. He paused, looking between the two of them. "Did I miss something?"

"No," Wesley replied. "Did you find anything?"

"Nothin'," Gunn said, holding out his empty hands. "Everything's in place and it doesn't look like anyone broke in".

"The door was unlocked when I walked in," Buffy said.

"I keep telling him he needs to fix that," Gunn replied.

"Well," Cordelia said as she came back down the staircase, "Angel really needs to do laundry, but other than that, there's nothing upstairs."

"Naturally," Wesley sighed. He knew the answer already, but felt compelled to ask. "I don't suppose you've had a vision in the past few minutes either?"

"Nope," Cordy replied. "The Powers that Be have been surprisingly quiet about the guy they're powering."

Wesley looked down in frustration, and noticed a glint of metal a short distance away. "Hullo, what's this?" He walked over, bent down, and picked up the metal cylinder. "It looks like a tranquilizer dart of some kind. Cordelia, Gunn, I'm going to need you to research this. Find out who makes them, who buys them and if you can, who's bought them recently. Cross-reference that with the list of Angel's enemies."

"Yeah, I'll get the phonebook," Cordy said. She took the dart from Wesley, then motioned for Gunn to follow her. "C'mon, you can drive me back to the office."

Gunn paused, turning to Wesley. "What about you?"

"Yes," Buffy said, folding her arms. "What about us, mon capitan?"

Wesley ignored her as he answered Gunn's question. "Unfortunately, barring any useful information, we're going to have to take extreme measures."

"Going to Caritas?" Gunn asked.

"Yes," Wesley replied. "We'll take Angel's car. Ring me the minute you find anything."

Angel wanted to throw up. Which was unusual because in over 248 years nothing had made Angel want to throw up, but apparently there were some things which could turn even his stomach.

He could have lived without knowing that.

As the drugs - he'd been able to figure out that much - faded out of his system, he let his senses fill in the picture for him. Mold. Cement. Tang of oil. Grime. Mildew. Solid feeling of being underground. Cold humidity in the air that only came from being by the ocean.

He opened his eyes and saw that he was in a cage. A metal one, with evenly spaced bars, a single door with what looked like an electromagnetic lock, and a still unconscious Spike.

Well at least one thing was going right for him.

He got up and took in his surroundings. They weren't much. A mostly bare basement with a doorway in the not so far and not so murky to a vampire distance. What looked like empty barrels scattered about with -

Angel squinted, focusing.

Yeah, that was a crowbar. Feeling as though he might as well tattoo the word "schmuck" to his head, he tried to reach through the bars to grab it.

A nasty magical shock was his reward.

He swore. Then felt the weight of his cellphone in his coat pocket. Pulling it out he tried to call Wes. Then wondered what it meant when the screen said "Signal Faded".

He decided to try to get out of his prison the old fashioned way and started punching the lock repeatedly.

Spike woke up after about ten minutes of this, sauntering over gingerly. He reached into his pocket before standing beside him, leaning against the cage with his arms folded, and watching him. After a few minutes more, Spike silently held out his hand, offering a bobby pin.

Angel shook his head, still hitting, hoping he might at least bend the bars enough to do something. "It's electronic."

Spike shrugged, returning the pin his pocket. "Short it out?"

Angel thought about it. It was a possibility. He looked around for anything liquid which might work but came up empty. He shrugged. "Unless you wanna try spilling blood on it."

"Yeah," Spike said, "That was basically the idea."

Well, if Spike was willing to take one for the team, who was Angel to argue? He stepped back, gesturing for Spike to go right ahead.

Spike stepped up to examine the lock and the door. After finding the space between the magnets, he turned face, wincing as he bit into his own wrist to draw blood. He leaned forward, trying to position the wound to let the blood fall into the cracks, but as soon as his hand passed through the bars he jolted, falling backwards into the cage from the shock. "Ow!"

Angel smirked. "Yeah. That's what happened when I tried to reach that crowbar over there. Looks like they have some kinda spell on this."

Spike applied pressure to his wrist. "You could have mentioned that before I before I pulled a sodding Lady Macbeth," he said, holding up both of his bloodied hands for Angel to see.

Angel actually felt like smiling. "Yeah," he agreed.

Spike sighed. "Never mind. Go back to pummeling the immovable spell-locked door. It was more productive than talking to you."

"Doesn't do anything," Angel said. "And my cell phone's not working either."

"Still more productive," Spike muttered. He looked down at his belt. "Mine's… apparently on your floor somewhere."

Angel blinked. "Since when do you have a cell phone?"

Spike gave him a sickening look of happiness. "Buffy gave it to me. Who gave you yours?"

"Wesley," Angel replied, then decided to change the subject by looking for any way to escape. "So what the Hell is this?"

Spike cast a critical eye around the room. "Pretty much a dump. Last time I woke up in a cage it was much more high tech."

"We're by the water," Angel said, on the odd chance Spike hadn't figured it out. "No clue who brought us here though."

"Yeah," Spike said. "I imagine it's a pretty long list of suspects. Who wouldn't want to kill you?"

"I'm not dead," Angel said. "I'm locked in a cage with you. So somebody really hates me." A thought suddenly occurred to him. "Lindsey…."

Spike looked offended. "It could be me they're bloody trying to annoy, you know!"

"In that case they could just lock you alone with a mirror."

"Well it would be surreal, I grant you," Spike replied. "Me vampire, remember?"

Angel slowly walked the perimeter of the cage, his eyes scanning for any clue as to how they might get out. "And you keep talking like I'm listening."

Out of the corner of his eye, Angel saw Spike position his fist below his mouth as if holding an imaginary microphone. "The older vampire stalks and surveys the boundaries of his confined environment, displaying his distinctive crest of plastic hair, and marking his territory with a unique blend of weak humor and broody looks."

"Could always mark it with the blood of the younger member of the species," Angel said.

"Hello?" Spike held up his fully healed wrist. "Just did that bit?"

"I was thinking of doing it using your face."

"Whatcha lockin' antlers with me for, Bambi?" Spike asked. "Not like there's anyone here to notice."

Angel paused, trying to remember if Bambi had antlers and then decided he didn't care. "Why are you still talking?"

Spike shrugged. "'Cause our inconsiderate hosts forgot to provide a telly?"

Angel turned back to his examination of the cage, wondering why he bothered getting into it with Spike. "Oh yeah, one fun night in the life of Angel."

Spike slid down the side of the cage, lit himself a cigarette, then contemplated the lighter. "Hey, hair boy."

Angel ignored him.

"Got a lighter, if that's any help."

Angel didn't even turn around. "You offering to set yourself on fire?"

"Not yet," Spike said. "'Nother hour of your company, maybe. I was thinking more like set something else on fire? Something that might, oh, turn on the sprinklers and short out the locks? Or else bring a bunch of firemen with axes that would let two harmless kidnapped blokes out of a big nasty cage?"

"There's no sprinklers," Angel replied. "There's no fire alarm. And I think that'd be funny."

Spike took a drag off of his cigarette, letting it out slowly. "Two hundred forty odd years and you still have the sense of humor of a four-year-old."

"Takes one to know one."

Spike smothered a grin with the back of his hand, but not quickly enough to keep Angel from seeing it. In an attempt to cover - or just get even more on his nerves - Spike began to sing just loudly enough for Angel to hear. "Ninety nine bottles of beer on the wall, ninety nine bottles of beer, if one of those bottles should happen to fall, I hope Angel's head is right under that wall…"

Buffy looked around in disbelief as she and Wesley entered Caritas.

"Demon karaoke bar," she said. "You have taken me to a demon karaoke bar."

The Host materialized out of the crowd, hearing her words. "I like to think of it as not just a demon karaoke bar, but home to some of the best Cosmopolitans in town."

Buffy stared at him. "And you are?"

Wesley stepped forward. "Buffy, this is The Host. He's an anagogic demon, capable of reading people's futures when they sing."

Now Buffy stared at him. "You're kidding, right?"

The Host shook Buffy's hand. "I never kid about good music, sweetheart. Although of course what you're bound to hear in here will probably inspire a laugh or two. So you must be Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Welcome to Caritas. What can I do for you?"

"Angel's gone missing," Wesley replied. "We need to find out where he's been taken. How soon can I sing?"

Buffy burst into laughter. "You - sing? What, a rousing rendition of 'God Save the Queen'?"

"I was thinking of Simon and Garfunkel, actually," Wesley murmured.

"And I'm sure it would have been a fine cover of 'Scarborough Fair'," the Host said. "But unfortunately, my little Wesson Oil, the stage is not for you tonight."

Wesley blinked. "What?"

"Not that I don't enjoy listening to your dulcet tones," the Host explained. "But if we want to find everyone's favorite brooding boy and his attractive leather-wearing grandson, yours is not the future I should be reading."

Wesley felt his insides grow cold.

"Oh no," Buffy said, immediately understanding the rest of the Host's implications. "No. Karaoke and me...nooooo. We don't mix."

"No," the Host replied. "Lime green and your skin tone don't mix. Karaoke and you will be fine, trust me. If Mordar the Bentback can sing 'Sexual Healing' I'm sure you can get on stage and provide us with a verse or two."

Buffy shook her head, stepping back. "But...Wesley can do it. I've got stage fright. Tons and tons of stage fright. I can't even go to plays."

"Buffy, just do it," Wesley snapped.

"All right, all right," Buffy pouted, stalking off towards the stage while muttering. "Rerun of Principal Snyder and the talent show."

Wesley tuned her out as he made his way towards the bar, ordering himself a pint and taking it to an empty table. He heard but did not see Buffy when she got onstage.

"Okay," she said, her voice somewhat breathless as she spoke into the microphone. "Here's an oldie but a goodie."

A small part of Wesley gave an indignant twitch as he recognized the not-so-classic rock of 'Wild Boys' by Duran Duran. But he shoved it aside and attempted to drown it in his beer.

"Kids today, huh?" the Host said, sitting beside him.

"I don't need any advice," Wesley said, memorizing the Guinness logo on his glass. "Read her aura. Not mine."

"Funny thing is, I can multitask," the Host replied. "Especially when I get such obvious signs."

"That is funny," Wesley agreed. "As you just told me I had none to give you."

"About this," the Host said, gesturing towards Buffy. "Not about your life, sweetie. Not about your boyfriend."

Wesley turned to look at him. "Then tell me. What about my life? What about my boyfriend? Have you anything to show me there?"

"What do you want?" the Host asked, gesturing around him as though the answer could be plucked out of the air. "There's nothing concrete I can give you. And didn't you and I have this little talk about destiny months ago?"

Wesley watched Buffy toss her hair over her shoulder as she sang.

"I know it's hard on you," the Host said. "What with the old flame in town and all, but it's not what you think. You can't give up on this just because - "

"Because the man I love is forever destined to belong to someone else?" Wesley asked.

"Because you see this as a yes or no answer," the Host finished.

Wesley looked down at his drink again.

The music faded, and Buffy came over to join them. "How'd I do?"

The Host smiled at her. "Wonderful! Didn't I tell you you'd do fine? I'd say you killed up there, but I'm sure you've had enough of the Vampire Slayer humor, huh?"

"Much obliged," Buffy said. "Was I vibey?"

"Read you like a book darlin'," the Host replied. "Unfortunately, I can't give you an exact address, but I should at least be able to point you in the right direction. For starters, you're gonna want to try looking near water."

Buffy frowned. "Well if I go back and sing 'Rio' could you narrow it down?"

"I appreciate the offer puddin', but it doesn't work like that," the Host took a cocktail napkin from the stack on the table, pulled a pen out of his pocket, wrote something down and handed it to Wesley. "Talk to the guys you find here. Not the friendliest bunch of demons I've ever met, but they'll have the information you're looking for."

Wesley recognized the address, and slipped the napkin into his coat pocket. "Thank you."

"That's it?" Buffy asked. "I sing and deus-ex-demon? Normally if I want info I have to go and beat someone up at Willy's. At least there I break a sweat. Actually, maybe this isn't a bad thing. Do you do birthday parties, because my mom -"

"Buffy," Wesley said, "The Host is not a toy!"

The Host waved a hand, dismissing any offense. "It's all right, I appreciate the compliment. Anyway , my Unforgettable Buffy Summers, it's not going to be as easy as it looks. I'm just pointing you in the right direction. What you do at the location is up to you." He glanced over at Wesley. "Fate's never set in stone." Turning back to Buffy, he added. "At least not as much as people'd like to think it is. There's a lot of grey areas. And some attractive shades at that. But I'm sure you know that by now."

Buffy seemed strangely unsettled by the Host's words, but gave no explanation for it as she and Wesley paid their tab and said their goodbyes.

"So you gonna do it?" Angel asked, looking over at Spike from where he sat across from him.

"Do what, sunshine?" Spike stretched his legs out in front of him, carefully avoiding the small pile of cigarette butts that had built up beside him.

"Set yourself on fire," Angel said. "It's been over an hour."

Spike laughed. "Nah. Your company's not as bad as I expected. Hell, you made it all the way to fifty-six bottles before you punched me in the stomach. Color me impressed."

Angel rolled his eyes. "So now what am I gonna do for entertainment?"

Spike shrugged. "If you want to have a go yourself, I'll generously contribute the lighter."

"I'll admit, after an hour with you, goin' back to Hell doesn't look so bad," Angel said. "But I promised Wes I'd go with him to the arms and armor exhibit tomorrow."

Spike looked interested. "They have a trebuchet?"

"I don't know," Angel said. "Wes had the brochure. He said there'd be lots of sharp pointy things."

"What's not to like?" Spike mulled the idea over. "Maybe I'll take Buffy. Too bad we can't double date."

"Yeah, maybe you should," Angel said. "'Cause then I could have all sorts of new weapons to hit you with."

"Yeah, and the Slayer'd have all sorts of new weapons to hit you with," Spike said, then gave Angel a catlike smile. "Actually, watching the two of you fight over little old me - kinda sweet. Well worth a bruise or two."

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Could start you off on those right now."

"Knew you'd get around to that sooner or later," Spike stood up, spreading his arms in indignation. "What is it with you? It's raining and you don't feel like goin' out - torture. Dru's late and we're waitin' up - torture. The wheel's off the carriage and we're stuck here till it's fixed - torture. Don't you ever just do the bloody crossword?"

"Hitting you is more fun," Angel said.

"And we don't even have a crossword," Spike replied. "I'm flattered."

Angel glared at him. "Too bad I left the knife set at home."

Spike rolled his eyes. "What, they don't come popping out of your bloody elbows?"

"No, just the stakes," Angel said. "Too bad I already popped those out to use 'em on you 'cause it's not like we couldn't use a weapon when whoever the Hell has us arrives."

"Yeah," Spike retorted. "And too bad neither of us has a ring that would make us invincible so we could get through the bloody spell and walk out of here."

"Are you ever gonna let that go?"

"My money's on no."

"Oh good," Angel sighed. "Something else to annoy me with until the prophecy comes true."

Spike's eyes flickered in his direction. "Yeah well. Like I said. In your world, torture and waiting are two great tastes that taste great together." Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Angel stood up, walking over to Spike and holding out his hand in an obvious request. Spike automatically supplied him with a cigarette, brought out his lighter and flicked it on, offering him the flame. Angel took it, puffing a few times.

Spike looked pissed at himself, then blinked in surprise. "When did you start smokin' again?"

Angel took a drag, letting it out with a roll of his eyes. "It's been a long year."

Spike nodded. "Know what you mean, mate."

That did it. Angel grabbed Spike by the T-shirt - Buffy's T-shirt - and hauled him over so they were eye to eye. "Yeah," Angel growled. "It's been such a rough year for you."

Spike gave him a satisfied smirk. "It had its compensations."

Angel tightened his grip. "I could kill you right now. I could rip your head right off your body."

"Uh-huh," Spike said, unphased. "And the Slayer would tear you a new one."

Angel took another drag off of his cigarette, letting Spike go. Affecting a nonchalant tone, he said "Aw, gee Buffy, it was such a shame, those bastards got him."

"So ya lie to her too, huh?" Spike asked, taking a puff off of his own cigarette. "And its not like I'm loving the piece of military surplus in my skull. Not to mention the charming accommodations in Xander's basement. Makes this place look like the Ritz."

Angel exhaled, frowning in confusion. "What were you doing staying in Xander's basement?"

"Giles was keepin' me chained up in his bloody bathtub at the time," Spike explained. "Only he had a ladybird comin' to visit, so I got told off to keep useless lad company. Sleepin' in a sodding chair under a leaky pipe, doin' his bloody laundry, wearin' his bloody Hawaiian shirts…. Oh yeah, it was a grand old time."

Angel grinned. "You were wearing Xander's clothing?"

"Mine got shrunk, didn't it?" Spike said, indignantly. "Not like I've had a lot of practice with the whole domestic scene."

Angel nodded. "Yeah, you really sucked at taking care of the household stuff."

"Hey, I cleaned up the bodies!" Spike said. "Not like somebody cared about that when he had his brand new disemboweling contraptions to try. Do you know how long it takes to get intestines out of an Oriental rug?"

"Couple of hours with a solution of vinegar and water," Angel said, flicking his ashes to the floor. "As long as you don't let it set."

Spike groaned, smacking himself in the forehead. "Great. Fucking great. I'm stuck in a cage with the undead Hints from Heloise."

"I asked for one vampire," Lindsey said. "Now I have two."

The Goran demons managed, in spite of the fact that half of their eyes were on opposite sides of their heads, to train nervous looks at the ground. The leader of the group ventured a comment. "See, the thing about that is -"

"Two," Lindsey repeated. He stood up from behind his desk, feeling a need to pace. He saw Lilah smirk at him from where she stood in the doorway. "I asked for one vampire, and now I have two. And, you know, much as I'm loving reliving this moment from 'The Freshman', what I'd really love is to not have to explain to the senior partners why we now have 100% more vampires than we need."

"I told you this wasn't going to work," Lilah said.

Lindsey ignored her. He faced down the head demon, making the creature flinch in spite of their significant differences in height. "Tell me - how exactly do you screw this up? How exactly do you make the decision that you're going to bring me both vampires? Because it's not as though they look alike!"

"You keep bringing your personal issues into this," Lilah continued, ignoring him in turn, "and look where it gets us."

The demon cleared his throat. Or offered a mating call. It was hard to tell with that species. "Actually - um - they do… sort of… look alike." He glanced at the other two demons standing behind him, who nodded in support and murmured their agreement. "I mean what with the clothes and the -"

"One has bleached blonde hair!" Lindsey snapped. "Cockney accent! Scar over his left eyebrow. The other is ANGEL! Dark hair, mopey demeanor, habit of cutting people's body parts off! You tell me how they look alike!"

There was a significant pause. "Um - see - it was dark and - "

"Shut up!"

"Not like we could tell who liked cutting -" the demon finally caught Lindsey's glare and fell into silence.

Lilah giggled. "Oh this is wonderful, Lindsey. Just perfect. This is really going to impress them back at the home office."

"You shut up too, Lilah," Lindsey growled. He perched on the end of his desk and thought. There had to be a way to make this work.

"This was a stupid idea to begin with," Lilah said. "But no, not to you. You just couldn't put aside your Angel fetish for one day and stick to the original plan?"

"I was sticking to the plan!" Lindsey said. "I liked the plan. What I don't like is these idiots -" Lindsey gestured to the demons "- deciding to bring in Angel and Spike like what we really wanted to do here was start our own game of Vampire Pokémon!"

The head demon looked annoyed. Or thirsty. "Look - we couldn't tell. You think it'd be better if we grabbed the wrong guy? Or left them both there to get ready for the next attack? You got the bloodsucker you wanted. Why don't you just stake the extra one and call it a night?" "Because we need -" Lindsey started to say, then stopped himself. "Forget it. Tell you what, gentlemen - how about you do your job, keep from making any other screw-ups, and maybe by the end of the night I won't forget to pay you? Think that might be a fun idea?" "Very original threat there, Napoleon," Lilah muttered as they all filed out of the room and headed for the garage.

"Shut up, Lilah," Lindsey replied.

Wesley and Buffy drove in silence as they headed to the address that the Host gave them. Wesley enjoyed it for a time, grateful for any opportunity which allowed him to think, until finally he couldn't stand his thoughts anymore.

"I was doing all right," he told her.

Buffy raised her eyebrows. "Excuse me?"

Wesley gave her a quick glance. "With Angel. Watching over him. Making sure he… You didn't have to come."

"Ok, Mr. Center of the Universe," Buffy rolled her eyes. "I told you, I came to see Faith. Period."

"Oh, really?" Wesley asked. "I now it's been years since you've lived in Los Angeles, Buffy, but the jail is not actually located inside of Angel's home."

"Really?" Buffy said, with mock regret. "Gosh, and I went to the actual jail to talk to Faith and came back there to meet Spike."

Wesley paused, realizing that he'd gotten the order of the visitors wrong. "Spike?"

"Yes, Spike," Buffy looked at him as though he were simple. "We've been discussing the fact that he and Angel have been missing for the past few hours. Where were you?"

Wesley gritted his teeth. "Yes, I'm aware that he's missing, Buffy. One of us actually does pay attention to details."

Buffy smiled. "Thank you."

Wesley ignored her. "What I meant is why was Spike with Angel? I wasn't aware that they had become bosom companions."

Buffy shrugged. "He needed to go somewhere while it was sunny and he wanted to go do some man-thing with Angel."

Wesley blinked. Then blinked again. "Some what?"

"You know," Buffy said, suddenly finding the view outside of her window to be fascinating. "Gloating."

"About what?" Wesley asked.

"Um...stuff. Or lack of stuff, or..." Buffy pulled her shoulders up defensively. "Things!"

Wesley looked over, his heavily distracted mind noticing for the first time how oversized her T-shirt appeared to be. "I see. The sort of things which explain why you currently reek of cigarette smoke?"

"Spike smokes. We were in a car together for two hours. Well, us and the Clash," Buffy shuddered as though she found the memory of the music disturbing.

Wesley decided not to beat about the bush. "Buffy, Angel told me."

Buffy held up her hands in surrender. "You got me. I don't smoke."

Wesley tightened his hands on the wheel, sighing. "No, but you do date vampires."

"Vampire," Buffy said. "I dated a vampire."

"Yes, I'm aware."

Buffy looked at him in confusion. "Then what are we talking about?"

"Why was Spike with Angel?" Wesley asked.

Buffy turned away again. "Are we there yet?"

"Just a little further," Wesley said automatically, then shook his head at how infantile the conversation had become. He forced himself to ask the question that was most troubling him. "Buffy, are you and Angel...?"

"No," Buffy said. "We can't, remember? Evil evil all my friends get killed. And thank you for bringing that up."

Wesley wanted to hit the steering wheel. "Then what the bloody Hell is going on?" he demanded.

Buffy gave him a look of fake shock. "Language Wesley!" She heaved a put-upon sigh. "What do you want to know?"

Wesley wondered if Buffy was stubborn or just deaf. "Why did Spike go to see Angel?"

"Aaargh!" Buffy shouted. "That's the same question three times! This is not even a conversation we are having!" She reached forward to turn on the radio.

Wesley turned the radio off immediately. "That isn't yours to touch."

"What? What do you want to know?" Buffy asked. "You should be able to figure it out on your own - you're a guy...sorta. Spike went to see Angel because we kissed a couple of times."

Wesley felt the blood drain from his face. "You and Angel?"

"No - Spike," Buffy replied. "He wanted to...I dunno, show off. It's Spike, it's what he does. He annoys."

Wesley felt another piece of the puzzle click into place with a sickening clarity. "Of course," he said, mostly to himself. Spike. The vampire to whom he'd stupidly confessed both his and Angel's weaknesses. Or, Wesley realized, just his own. Angel's had remained constant, and was sitting in the car beside him. "So you mean to tell me that the only reason you and your current vampire boyfriend are in L.A. is so that Spike can gloat about the two of you sleeping together?"

Buffy looked disgusted. "Eew. What kind of person do you think I am? I came to see Faith. The Spike part was his own thing. And we're not sleeping together!"

Wesley frowned, remembering what both Spike and Angel had told him. "So he was lying about the curse then?"

Buffy shifted in her seat. "Oh. That. You said sleeping together. That was a...one-time thing. He was going to die."

"Oh yes," Wesley said. "Because as we know, in every generation there is a Chosen One. One girl in all the world to save the vampires."

"He's a friend," Buffy said. "Kind of. And I don't think you should be quoting anything out of the Watcher's books since you're half the reason Faith's in jail right now."

"Well, someone should be quoting it to you," Wesley replied. "Because you've put your destiny on the line for a vampire who looks good in a pair of leather trousers!"

"Ok, number one," Buffy said, "Spike wears jeans. Number two, hi, my name is pot, and you must be kettle. Can I call you black?"

Wesley winced but tried to hide it. "Angel has a soul. Present tense."

"And Spike has a chip," Buffy countered. "Besides, I trust him, odd as that seems."

"Oh no, a Vampire Slayer trusting a vampire? Perfectly acceptable."

"I know it's not normal," Buffy said. "But he's come through for me when I needed him. He babysat my sister for God's sake, and if that's not devotion, I don't know what is."

Wesley had to give a grudging smile at that as he could easily recall his own trials with Dawn. "That's hardly the point. Spike is a vampire. An evil vampire."

"Evil shmeevil," Buffy said. "You can't look at everything as if it's just black and white. Sometimes it's beige."

Wesley blinked, remembering the Host's words. "Or grey," he added, softly.

"Look," Buffy said. "I've already had this conversation once today with Faith, I'm over it."

"Well that's good," Wesley replied as a row of buildings came into view. "Because we're here."

Following the Host's directions, they came upon a small group of three Goran demons, huddled about a trashcan fire. The demons looked up at the sight of the car, then immediately bolted.

Buffy leapt out of the car at once, chasing two of them out of sight down an alleyway. The third attempted to double back and escape, but Wesley caught it in mid flight by slamming open the car door. Wesley then quickly turned the car off, grabbed his crossbow from the backseat, and took off after Buffy, pausing only to strike the demon with the butt of his weapon to make sure it stayed unconscious.

He arrived just in time to see Buffy get knocked off of her feet, loosing a sledgehammer that she'd apparently acquired during the course of the battle. One of the demons was clearly taken care of, but the remaining one was as healthy as ever and began to try strangling Buffy to death.

Without thought Wesley raised his crossbow, sending a bolt through one of its many eyes and forcing it to topple over sideways. Both it and Buffy looked toward him in surprise.

Wesley responded by reloading and aiming his weapon yet again, this time at the demon's heart. "I believe you have some information for us."

"Oh no! You said. It'll be perfectly safe! You said," Spike looked at Angel in disgust. "What could go wrong with attacking St. Mary's Cathedral, a place entirely filled with crosses, Holy water, and people professionally prepared to use them! All I'm sayin' is, if you go to all the bloody trouble to find a bird with second sight, drive her completely round the bleedin' bend, and turn her into a vampire, perhaps you might want to consider listening to what she sees."

"177," Angel replied.

"What?"

"177 words," Angel said. When that didn't clear things up for Spike, he added. "In what you just said. Wait - " Angel did a quick recount. "176. Poncy's one word."

Spike sputtered apoplectically. "I…You…That…That was hours ago, Angel! No wonder you don't understand a bloody word anybody says to you." Spike hit the back of one hand into the palm of another. "Listen for content."

Angel smirked. "23."

Spike walked over to the side of the cage and begins hitting his head against the bars. Glad for the diversion, Angel began counting the blows. Unfortunately it didn't take Spike long to realize that and glare murderously at him. He tried to growl, but couldn't sustain it for long, giving in first to chuckles, then out and out laughter.

With surprise, Angel found himself joining in - or at least smiling a little. He held out his hand and once again Spike automatically supplied him with a cigarette, this time lighting it with a flourish before taking one for himself. He took a puff, feeling a touch of nostalgia. "Remember when Darla made you bang your head against the wall in Venice?"

Spike frowned. "Which time?"

Angel flicked his ashes. "After that night in the brothel."

Spike grinned. "Oh yeah." He pitched his voice to sound like Darla. "Spike! This picture is still hanging crooked! Put another nail in, half an inch to the left."

Angel immediately responded like Dru. "Spoike you shouldn't do that! It makes the wall get all angry!"

Spike responded with an imitation that Angel would never admit was a dead-on replication of his old brogue. "No, no, darlin', that wall's gonna be perfectly happy to have that picture I drew of ya. Can't ye tell from the cracks? It's smilin' already!"

Content with revenge, Angel dropped into Spike's faux cockney. "Da, can you get your hand off the back of my bloody head, the nail's in deep enough!"

Spike laughed, tapping his cigarette against the bars of the cell to rid it of its ashes. "Any bloody deeper, it'd been out the other bleedin' side."

Angel nodded. "Through the wall and into the canal just like all those puppies Dru got tired of." He paused, then he and Spike both added "And that stableboy."

Spike smiled affectionately at the memory. "Dru never could keep 'em alive more than a week."

Angel took a final drag off his cigarette. "Yeah, well, that's why we had you around."

"One does one's poor best. And she kept asking why she couldn't turn the puppies," Spike frowned, looking at him. "Can you turn puppies?"

Angel stabbed his cigarette out. "Like I know. You know animals aren't my kink."

Spike laughed.

Angel looked at him. "What?"

"You drink animal blood all the time," Spike said. "You're bloody Tarzan."

"Tarzan doesn't drink animal blood," Angel said.

Spike shook his head in exasperation. "How would you know?"

"I go to movies."

"Tarzan lived in the jungle with a bunch of animals," Spike said. "Trust me, if Tarzan were a big broody vampire with a two bottle a day hair gel habit, he'd drink animal blood."

Angel gave Spike's hair a pointed look. "How often do you brood?"

"Whenever I'm locked in a small space with a bleeding idiot," Spike replied. "So, here, Xander's, Giles'… three times."

"Not counting all the times you're in the crypt by yourself," Angel said.

Spike dismissed this. "No lock."

Reminded, Angel muttered. "Really gotta fix the front doors at the hotel."

"I was wondering about that," Spike said.

"Yeah," Angel agreed. "The way it is now, any idiot can walk in."

"Well I'm assuming you'd keep a key."

Giving up on that train of thought, Angel replied "You drink animal blood too now, sunshine."

"I have a chip in my head," Spike said, with exaggerated slowness. "Surprisingly people are quite reluctant to come up and bleed on me. Even in Sunnyhell."

Angel shrugged. "It's a nice change of pace."

"Come again?"

"Having anything in your head must be a nice change of pace for you."

Spike gave him a dry look. "You mean besides the dread, lethargy, and migraine that come from any conversation with you?"

"You know, you came to see me."

"You're right," Spike said. "Clearly I don't have a brain."

Angel laughed. "Been tellin' you that for a hundred and thirty years."

"Quite a trick, considering I didn't see you for a hundred of them."

"Hey," Angel said. "Not my fault some gypsies decided to ram a soul inside of me."

"'Cause as we all know, people with souls are incapable of writing letters, making phone calls, or taking public transportation."

"I guess so, 'cause the vampires without them certainly can't be bothered to stay in one place."

Spike looked away. "Yeah, well. Like any hunter-gatherer tribe, its time to move on when you use up the food supply. Or when they're after you with a lynch mob."

Angel shook his head. "Yeah 'cause God knows I was the one who always brought on the lynch mobs."

Spike smiled innocently. "Hey, can I help it if I like to feel wanted? It adds a spice of danger to the most humdrum meal. It makes every outing an adventure. It keeps me young. Besides, if you and the girls weren't so busy making bloody artistic tableaus out of the local gentry, I wouldn't have been bored enough to go rampaging through the villages -"

"Well, well," Angel looked up at the familiar voice to see Lindsey enter the room, surrounded by an entourage of demons and men in labcoats. "Don't tell me I'm interrupting some old lovers' quarrel. "

Angel stared him down, coming to the front of the cage. "Why, Linds, would that make you jealous?"

"Who me?" Lindsey asked. "I'm not the one who's interested in how well you two get along." He looked past Angel to see Spike. "So this is Spike. Angel's grandson."

Spike exhaled smoke, singularly unimpressed. "The one, the only. And you are?"

"Spike, this is Lindsey," Angel said. "I'd offer to have the two of you shake hands, but…"

A flash of annoyance went through Lindsey's eyes. "Yeah. The hand. You know that was funny the first 50 times, Angel. Especially, you know, the first one. That was a real -"

Angel talked over him. "Could always cut the other one off. That'd give me a chuckle. How 'bout you, Spike?"

Spike blinked in surprise, but recovered quickly. "Hell yeah, Angel. Give me a good giggle. Whatcha thinkin'? Tie it off real tight and let it rot?"

In spite of himself, Angel couldn't help but be distracted by what Spike thought was a good idea. "What's the point of that? Then I gotta sit here and look at him and wait for it to happen."

"I thought you were supposed to be the patient one," Spike replied. "Besides, that way he's gotta sit there and look at you and wait for it to happen."

Lindsey tried to get their attention. "Guys."

Angel shook his head. "Bad enough I've been in here with you for the past," he looked down at his watch, seeing with dread how much time had passed. "Dear God. With Lindsey here, once again, Hell's lookin' real cozy."

Spike shrugged. "Fine then. Go with the basics. Machete. Always a classic."

"Used a scythe the first time," Angel said. "Hate to repeat myself."

Spike snorted. "'Cause you just have a scythe lying around the house, don't you? What are you, the grim brooder?"

"Hey Lindsey's the one who brought the weapons to that little shindig. I was just using what was on hand," Angel paused as a thought occurred to him. "Hey Spike, why don't you try annoying him to death?"

Lindsey stepped forward again. "Guys -"

Spike ignored him. "'Cause you're already annoying me to death, and I hate to repeat you too. Bad enough people think I've got your dress sense."

Angel laughed, rolling his eyes. "Yeah, 'cause it's such magic for me when people find out that I'm related to you."

"Yeah, and it's such a thrill for me," Spike said, gesturing to Lindsey. Lindsey took advantage of the opening. "Guys. Much as I hate to interrupt this whole Addams Family Values bonding experience you guys have got goin', I'm kind of on a schedule here. So if we could all kind of focus on the 'me in charge with the Goran demons that can kill ya' thing maybe we can get this back on track."

"Uh-huh," Spike said. "Here's me. Terrified. Shakin' in my boots. Did you want something?"

"Well, what do you know, Linds?" Angel said. "You've managed to bore my family on a multigenerational level. Red-letter day for you, huh?" With mock thoughtfulness he added. "Must be right up there with the day that Darla dumped you."

Spike did a double take. "Darla went out with him?"

Angel grinned, wishing he could purr in satisfaction. "Oh no. Lindsey brought her back from the dead, wined her, dined her - and he still didn't have what she was looking for. You know Darla - she likes a little more in her man."

Again a flicker of annoyance crossed Lindsey's face, but he tried to play it off. "Is that what you're offering these days, Angel? Being more manly?"

A part of Angel seized upon the comment and wondered where the fuck it was coming from. But he refused to let Lindsey see that and continued talking as casually as ever. "Guess so, Linds. That is - if Darla's any judge. I mean it wasn't perfect happiness for me, but - three times kinda says something."

Angel heard Spike choke on a puff of cigarette smoke.

Lindsey stared daggers at him, motioning for the group behind him to step forward. "It's not over between us, Angel. But in the meanwhile - we need to borrow your grandson for a bit. And hey - we'll make it three times as interesting for him too."

Spike looked taken aback, but still managed to play it off. "Hey mate - if Darla wouldn't touch you…"

Lindsey stepped back, clearing enough room for one of the demons to slip a passkey through the lock on the door. "That's not quite what the senior partners had in mind." Linsdey gave Angel a look of smug satisfaction. "But trust me. It'll be fun."

Angel didn't wait long enough to try to find out. As soon as the cage door opened, he was on it, hitting the first man there under the jaw with enough force to lift him off of the ground and flying into the demons gathered behind him, knocking the lot of them down into a tangle of limbs.

They were quick to get up, however, and one of the lab coated demons rushed at Angel with a snarl, managing to throw him back a few paces.

Angel put on his game face, snarling in return and driving his fist into the demon's back, aiming for what would be a kidney on a human and what he hoped would be a sore spot on the demon. The demon reared back, throwing Angel over his shoulder and directly into the doorway, inadvertently knocking over some of the entering minions in the process.

Spike, never one to ignore an opportunity, took advantage of the sudden clearing at the door to make his escape, leaping over Angel in the process. Angel saw him head for the door, then lost track of him as a wave of men and demons converged upon him. He saw two rush at him from either side and stepped back at just the right moment, forcing them to ram into one another and knock each other out. A third demon jumped upon his back. Unable to dislodge it with his hands, he backed into the cage wall, trying to slam it hard enough to force the demon to let go. The grip around his throat was strong, however, and Angel found himself facing a potential standstill.

A reprieve came in the form of Lindsey banging on the bars to the cage. "Forget him for now. We have what we came for."

The demon let go as the other minions filed out of the cage, and Angel could see Spike's prone body being dragged out of the doorway and towards God knew what. Feeling a wave of anger overcome him, Angel spun, clocking the demon with a savage punch and knocking it unconscious. He attempted to rush the door, but Lindsey slammed it in his face.

"If you really like your playmate so much, why don't you keep him?" Lindsey said, once again smiling in satisfaction as he left. "Someone to while away the long hours with."

Angel snarled, slapping his hand against the bars of the cage in frustration.

Wesley pulled out his cellphone as it rang, stepping away from Buffy and the now highly co-operative demons. Recognizing the number, he said "Cordelia, what have you found?"

"Huge surprise," Cordy answered. "Last big purchase of Perkins tranquilizer dart model X-17 was none other than Drake and Davidson, a subsidiary of Wolfram & Hart."

"I should have guessed," Wesley replied. "Well, Buffy and I have determined Angel and Spike's location. Meet us at 4273 Waterside Way. Building number 8."

"You got it."

Wesley walked up and stepped back just in time to hear Buffy addressing the demons, swinging her new sledgehammer in an almost playful fashion. "Now, you run off and behave yourselves or me and Steve here will have somethin' to say about it."

Wesley watched as the demons ran off, then decided he had to ask. "Steve?"

"My sledgehammer - see?" she held up the tool, pointing out where the former owner had apparently engraved his name on the handle.

"Of course," Wesley said, reminding himself not to ask stupid questions. He turned and walked back to the car. Buffy followed, whistling jauntily.

It didn't take long for them to arrive at their destination - a warehouse which to all appearances had been abandoned years prior. Cordy and Gunn soon joined them.

Wesley pointed out a high window on the side of the building. "I think that would be our best point of entry. Gunn, did you bring a rope with you? I could perhaps attach a bolt..."

"Or I could jump," Buffy offered.

Gunn looked surprised. "Can you?"

"Hold Steve," Buffy said, passing Gunn the sledgehammer. She took a running start, then used some crates to vault from and easily catch the second story windowsill. She pulled herself up, opened the window, and vanished inside.

"Huh," Gunn said, shifting the sledgehammer to his left hand so he could hold his hubcap axe with his right. "Cool."

Cordelia nodded, casually twirling her mace. "Yeah. That girl has a pathological fear of doors."

After a few minutes of muffled noise from inside, Buffy emerged. "C'mon in guys, first coast is clear."

Wesley and the others joined her. "Our informants said that they'd be downstairs," he explained to Cordy and Gunn.

Buffy stayed in front, taking her weapon back from Gunn: "Ok, everyone get behind me."

Cordelia immediately stepped to the rear of the group. "Works for me."

They easily located the door to the basement, and Buffy lead the group downstairs. As they neared the bottom, she peered around the corner and indicated that she could see four opponents of some kind. Motioning for them to follow, she ran forward, catching the demon guards unaware and managing to swing her heavy hammer into the first demon's midsection, knocking him into one of his companions and sending them both to the floor.

Wesley saw the third demon start to move towards her and stopped it with a crossbow bolt to the chest, which Gunn immediately followed with a swipe of his axe, decapitating it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Buffy successfully wrestling her two demons into submission, so he turned to rescue Cordy, stepping in as she danced away from a spray of ichor that rewarded her for successfully slamming the demon's chest with her mace. With quick and efficient motions, he fired bolt after bolt into the demon's body until it fell down dead.

The way now clear, Buffy opened the door to the once guarded room. From behind her Wesley could see Angel inside of a cage, placing a few final and well-placed kicks into the demon trapped inside with him. At the sound of them entering the room, Angel looked up.

"Buffy?" Angel said, blinking in surprise. "Wes?"

"Present," Buffy replied, then turned to the others. "How do we get him outta here? Check the guards for keys."

Gunn retreated into the hallway, checking the two bodies closest to the door and returning with a plastic card. "This looks like a key to me," he said, tossing the card to Wesley.

Wesley caught it, immediately sliding it through the lock and opening the door. He then tried not to lose his composure as Angel stepped out and met his eyes.

"Wes -" Angel started to say, but Buffy interrupted him.

"Where's Spike?" she asked.

Angel blinked, looking away from Wesley and slamming the cage door closed once again, locking the unconscious demon inside. "I don't know. Lindsey and some demons came in not too long ago. I don't know where they took him."

Wesley frowned. "They took Spike?"

"Well, we're gonna find him," Buffy said, hefting her sledgehammer to rest it against her shoulder. "Who's this Lindsey chick?"

"Guy," Cordy said. "He's one of those lawyers that hate Angel so much."

Gunn gave Cordelia a look. "I told you it was them. Could've saved a few hours of checking."

"Hang on," Angel said. He stepped forward, frowning in concentration, before walking out of the room. "This way. "

They all fell into step behind him.

"How does he do that?" Cordelia asked.

"Vampire senses," Wesley reminded her, recognizing the look on Angel's face.

"I can smell him," Angel said.

"Eew," Cordy replied. "That must be some cologne Spike's wearing. Must be nice to have the ability to pick up the body odor of a dead guy."

Gunn shook his head. "Yeah, 'cause of all the problems a vampire has, that's the worst."

The filed down a couple of passageways before finding the way barred by a heavy door. Buffy and Angel set upon it at once, managing to break it down. Inside, Wesley could see Spike tied down upon an operating table, apparently unconscious. Around him were demons and humans in lab coats - save one demon covered in heavy robes who took one look at the intruders and vanished into thin air. Finally, Wesley could spy Lindsey leaning against the far wall.

Buffy rushed in, swinging her new hammer and taking down two demons in one blow before leaping onto the operating table to defend Spike from there. The rest of the group ran into the room and quickly managed to dispatch Spike's captors, although none were able to determine when Lindsey fled to safety.

Once calm had been restored, Spike woke up, blinking his eyes groggily in Buffy's direction. "Slayer?"

Buffy jumped down from the table and untied him. "Can you walk?"

Spike stood up, albeit shakily, and leaned against Buffy as they all made their escape.

Angel didn't want to invite everyone back to the hotel. But Spike's car was there, and he couldn't think of a better place for them all to regroup. They split up between Gunn's truck and Angel's convertible, and converged upon the front door at about the same time.

"Sounds like Miller time to me," Gunn said, making his way down the small staircase by the front door and aiming for Angel's fridge. "Who's in?"

Spike sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs and raised his hand. "Right here, mate."

Angel nodded, making a mental note that now Spike owed him two.

"Yes, please," Wesley said, taking off his coat and putting his crossbow down.

Angel looked over at him, wishing like Hell they were alone. "Wes -"

He was interrupted by Spike giving an obnoxious sigh after taking his first pull of beer. "Aahhhh. That feels good. Been a bad day all around."

Angel glared at him as he accepted his own beer from Gunn. "Yeah, 'cause God knows this has been the best day of my life." Turning back to Wesley - who now wasn't even looking at him, he tried again. "Wes?"

"I still don't get it," Buffy said.

"What's to get?" Cordy asked, sitting down at her old desk chair. "You've had a long day. Alcohol is needed. Angel, would it kill you to keep a bottle of wine around here?"

"No," Buffy said. "Why did they take you guys? And what did they do to Spike? And how did they know Spike was gonna be here anyway?"

Wesley spoke up from his position by the counter. "Well, the demon that vanished was a Pockla. It's a healing demon, primarily known for regenerating flesh. And for performing other types of supernatural operations."

Buffy turned to Spike. "Still got all your parts?"

Spike touched his scar as though to make sure it was still there, then grinned lasciviously at Buffy in response to her question. "Wanna check?"

Angel looked at Spike and growled, wondering again why he hadn't torn Spike's head off the first time.

Cordelia blinked in sudden understanding, turning to Buffy with a disbelieving shake of her head. "What is it with you and vampire boyfriends? Have you even tried the living?"

"He's not my boyfriend!" Buffy replied. "And yes, I have. You make it sound like a soft drink."

"Ah yes, the living," Spike said dreamily, leering in Cordy's direction. "Drinks on tap." Buffy responded by smacking Spike over the head.

"Ow!" Spike protested, "What?"

"Did they do anything to you?" Wesley asked, his blue eyes finally meeting Angel's.

Angel debated telling the entire group to go fuck itself so he could be alone with Wes. But - duty called. "Nothing, far as I know," he replied, then glanced at Spike. "Annoyed me to Hell and back. Unless they did something while I was knocked out?"

Wesley gave Angel a studious look of concern. Again it was a test of will not to kiss him in front of everyone.

"Is there a big black market in vampire parts?" Spike asked.

"Well, there are collectors about town," Wes replied. "But I'm unaware of any connections that Wolfram & Hart would have to them."

"It's Wolfram & Hart," Angel said. "Trust me, they've got their hands in everything dirty."

"So why just cut up Spike?" Buffy asked. "Why not Angel? More bang for your buck?"

"Lawyer boys seem to want to keep Angel alive and in one piece," Gunn said, then looked at Angel. "Unless they're messing with your mind again, bro?"

"So why bother with Spike at all?" Buffy asked.

Angel shook his head, speaking around the mouth of his beer before taking a few swallows. "Fastest way of messing with my mind I know."

"Ta," Spike said, tipping his beer at Angel. Cordelia shrugged. "Maybe they just picked up Spike as a bonus. Like a two-for-one sale. Of vampires. I hate this city."

"Unless Angel was going to be next?" Wesley suggested.

"Brilliant!" Spike said. "I come to be the Slayer's chauffeur and I get taken as a bloody guinea pig!"

"Sounds like instant karma to me," Angel replied.

"Well it would 'cause you don't know what those two words mean," Spike said.

"Next for the what?" Buffy asked, ignoring them both. "Did they do it? Did we miss it? Did they even start?"

"Well, the demon vanished when we got there," Wesley said. "That would indicate that whatever it was to be done was done."

"Or maybe he was just running away," Buffy said.

Wesley nodded, grudgingly admitting. "Yes, that is a possibility."

"So we got nothin'," Gunn said.

"Well, if any of my parts fall off," Spike said, "I'll be sure and let you know."

"And we'll let you know if we see any mention of your liver in the classifieds," Cordy offered.

Gunn finished his beer and then motioned to Cordelia. "C'mon, I'll give you a ride home." Cordy stood up to collect her things, which gave Gunn enough time to ask Wes. "You gonna be ok?"

Wesley smiled encouragingly in response. Angel watched him, wondering how much Wes was lying. Gunn and Cordy waved their quick goodbyes, then left, leaving the rest of them looking at one another in silence for several long moments.

Finally Spike, as he so often did, broke the standstill. "Well, guess we'll be headin' off then."

Angel stopped looking at Wes long enough to meet Buffy's eyes. "Buffy?"

"Yeah?" she said.

He struggled to find the words. He hated doing that. He'd never been good with words, especially at times like this. "Everything ok with Faith?"

"Peachy," Buffy said.

"And you?" he asked.

Buffy shrugged. "I'm dealing."

Angel saw Wesley walk over to the fridge to get another beer. Soon after, Spike joined him. He felt a possessive wave of emotion towards Wes, wanting to shove Spike as far away from him as possible, but damped it down. He had to talk to Buffy now. Had to find out why she'd come here - why she'd talked to Faith, when he'd been unable to do that himself for months. And why the Hell she'd sent Spike knocking on his door. "Anything I can help with?"

"Are you asking about something specific, or is this a general offer?" she asked.

"Whatever made you come here," Angel said. "With him."

"Faith," Buffy said. "Been there, answered that. He knew why I needed to be here and offered to take me."

Angel felt the last few strains of his patience wear away. He liked guessing games even less than he liked talking. "You don't wanna answer me, fine. I've had a real long day Buff, maybe you and Spike should get home before the sun comes up, huh?"

Buffy looked taken aback. "What do you want me to say to you? What are you looking for? Do you need me to say Spike has influenced me with his bad ways and I need you to save me from him?"

Angel stepped back, holding up his hands as if he could wash them of the whole thing. "I don't need you to say anything, Buffy. It's none of my business. You do whatever you want with Spike. I mean, you know him so much better than I do."

"Yeah," Buffy scoffed. "And you knew Wesley so much better than I did when you took him in!"

"That's different," Angel snarled.

"Oh really."

"Yeah, really."

"Care to explain that?" Buffy asked.

Angel thought of the years-long conversation he'd had with Buffy in England. "I thought I already did. You know, I've known Spike longer than you have. Hell, I've known Wesley longer than you have."

"Yeah," Buffy said. "So you know people change."

"But he's a vampire," Angel said. "He doesn't have a soul."

"I know. And that's what makes him..." Buffy struggled to find the right word. "Different."

"Trust me," Angel said, "there's a lot of things that make Spike different. If you want to be third on that list, go right ahead."

Buffy blinked for a few moments, then looked at him lividly. "How dare you! He could've killed me a million times by now if he wanted to." Her eyes grew cold as she looked at him. "That's more than you can say."

"Get out," Angel replied. "Now."

Wesley pulled back, walking to the far corner of the lobby and getting another beer from Angel's small refrigerator as some sort of excuse for his retreat. He found himself holding the cool bottle in his hand, not really drinking it, and not really looking at anything in particular.

Which was better, he thought, than looking in the direction of those two voices. Angel and Buffy, saying things to one another that he didn't even dare imagine about.

Spike wandered over to join him, taking a second beer himself and drinking from it as he sat down on the countertop. He paused long enough to light a cigarette, then gave Wesley a small salute with his bottle. "You and the rest of the cavalry, mate."

He couldn't help but look. He couldn't really see either one of their faces but - he had to look. Had to at least watch Angel's back, his eyes going over the curves of muscle that his hands had touched so many times before. Spike's words came to him like so much nonsense. "Er - yes? It's - it's nothing."

Spike shrugged. "It's something to me. It's my life, I'm fond of it."

"Indeed," Wesley said, distracted.

Spike smoked, watching Angel and Buffy as well, then flicking his ashes onto the countertop. "She's cute when she's mad, isn't she?"

Wesley felt ill. "Has she much to be mad about?"

"Looks like," Spike said. "She woke up before dawn, had a nice little chat with 'Slayer 2: I Still Know Who You Staked Last Summer', trots around here to find her two favorite vamps been kidnapped, and now her and Angel are having themselves a bloody heart to heart." Spike rolled his eyes, muttering "'Cause that always goes well."

Wesley found himself lacking any sympathy for Spike. Or Buffy. "I thought you were together," Wesley said.

Spike quirked an eyebrow at him. Wesley lowered his voice, speaking so only Spike could hear him. "You and she. Angel told me… there was a relationship." Wesley tried to find words to explain his feeling of betrayal. "I trusted you."

Spike turned to look Wesley in the eye. "You asked me questions. I answered them. We drank scotch. Fuck if I know what nancy boy told you but - I love her. We beat demons up together. More than that? A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell." Spike took a drag off of his cigarette, then added. "Or me either. Call it what you want."

"Why did you come here?" Wesley asked. "Knowing he was with me, why…" Wesley trailed off, looking in Buffy's direction and letting that fill in the question for him - Why did you torment him with his love for her?

Spike crushed out his cigarette on a leftover stack of Angel's old business cards. "Get a bit of my own back. He'd've done the same to me. Half a minute - he already did."

Wesley glared at him, then shook his head in contempt, returning his gaze to Angel and Buffy's direction. "Never trust a vampire."

Spike cocked his head at Angel. "What's he done to you then?"

Wesley folded his arms, not even looking at him. "None of your bloody business."

Whatever Spike might have said was overridden by Buffy's call.

"Spike! We're leaving!" she said, gathering up her sledgehammer and storming out the front door.

"'Bout bloody time!" Spike said, hopping off of the counter and sauntering past Angel. "Lovely seeing you again Angel, have to do this again sometime."

The door slammed behind Spike and Buffy as they left the hotel. Wesley immediately turned to throw his beer away. "I'll just be a moment."

"Wes," Angel walked over to him. "You don't have to -"

"Really, it's no trouble," Wesley said. He looked around, suddenly unable to remember where he'd left his crossbow and wishing, more than anything, that he could see it and not Angel's repeated attempts to look into his eyes.

"Talk to me, Wes."

Wesley gathered his coat. "Angel, it's been a long day."

"You're telling me?" Angel stepped forward again, blocking Wesley's path. "You're right. It has. For both of us."

Wesley forced himself to look up at him, willing Angel to get out of his way and let him walk to the door. "Yes. If you don't mind, I'd like to go to bed."

"There's a bed here. You seemed to like it."

"I'm not the only one."

"Is that it?" Angel asked. "Is that what's bothering you?"

"Angel -"

"Talk to me, Wesley," Angel said. His brown eyes flashed in frustration. "Don't do this. Not after everything we've been through."

Wesley glanced at the door Buffy had left out of. "We've been through?"

"I have had a long night, Wesley," Angel paused, looking at his watch. "In fact, damn near twenty four hours of nothing I liked and that day began and ended with you being unhappy. Tell me what's wrong. Let me fix it." Angel's expression softened, and there was a hint of something not unlike a smile near his lips. "I could beg? As a friend?"

Wesley looked away, not wanting to think too hard about the memory that flooded him. But the emotions were enough to prompt him toward honesty. "He said we had no future."

Angel frowned. "Who? Spike?"

"No," Wesley said. "The Host. Or, rather, he said I had a future, but he could not see you in it."

Angel reached out for him. "Wes - no -"

"You'll always be in hers, of course," Wesley said, stepping back and out of Angel's reach. "Which comes as no surprise. And it's not as though I don't know I'm not your perfect happiness as it's the foundation of our entire relationship. But tonight you were in trouble and… I wasn't the one to save you."

"Bull. Shit. Wesley." Angel's voice was flat and tight. "Bullshit. Don't you give me that. Don't you dare give me that. In fact I'm actually pretty sick and tired of that."

Wesley felt a rush of anger overcome him. "What? Truth?"

"Lies," Angel replied. "Wesley - those are nothing but - Jesus! Listen to you! The Host says I'm not in your future, the curse says you're not my perfect happiness. How about what I say, Wesley? Does that count for anything?"

Wesley swallowed. "And what do you say?"

Angel reached out yet again, this time grabbing hold of Wesley's arms. "I love you. That's what I say. I love you. I love you so much it hurts. I love you so much I can't stand being away from you. I love you so much I sang last night at Caritas just so I could ask the Host why the fuck I'm not turning on you because I love you and if something this strong's not perfect happiness then I don't get it."

"What - " Wesley trembled, licking his lips. "What did he say?"

Angel shook his head. "He didn't know. 'Ask a gypsy' - that's what he said."

"So there's no answer." Wesley sighed.

"No," Angel said. "There's an answer. It's right here: I love you. It's not a prophecy, or a vision, or anything else. It's just me. Telling you. If it matters."

An answer, Wesley thought, remembering the Host's words. An answer that wasn't yes or no. "It matters," Wesley moved forward, placing a hand on Angel's chest. "It - it matters to me."

"Then there you go," Angel said. "It's not poetry, but it's all I've got to give you."

Wesley wrapped his hand around the lapel of Angel's shirt, tightening it into a fist as he leaned forward into Angel's embrace. "I - love you as well. If it matters."

"It always mattered, Wes," Angel whispered, brushing his lips over Wesley's cheek. "You always mattered."

Wesley turned his head, meeting Angel's mouth with his own. "When I saw you with her - when Cordelia said she was at the hotel -"

"I didn't know, Wes, I swear it," Angel shook his head, then once again smiled a little. "Hell if I'd known Spike was coming here I'd've gone back to your place."

"You still love her," Wesley said.

"Yeah," Angel admitted. "But I love you too."

Wesley nodded, pulling closer into Angel's arms, and accepting it.

Epilogue

"Great. Just great, Lindsey" Lilah said as she stepped carefully over broken glass..

Lindsey looked over the trashed remains of the lab. "Got an opinion you'd like to share, Lilah?"

"Yes," Lilah said. "You're an idiot. Because of you the whole plan failed."

"I told you," Lindsey repeated for what now had to be the millionth time, "I didn't tell them to grab Angel. And what do you mean the plan failed?"

Lilah rolled her eyes. "Newsflash, Einstein - Spike went back to Sunnydale. He's not too likely to cause trouble for Angel there, is he?"

Lindsey smiled, enjoying the satisfaction of the moment. "Oh yeah? You think so?"

"It's a two hour commute, Lindsey," Lilah said. "And it's not like either one of them's computer savvy enough for Spike to be able to harass Angel by email."

"True," Lindsey admitted. "But then again - it's not like Angel's going to sleep too well once he finds out his ex-girlfriend's now hanging out with an unchipped vampire."

Some days, Lindsey thought, were just better than others.

Fin.