Angel / Protocol / Part Three

PART THREE

"Where the Hell *is* he?"

Angel plowed his way through the halls of the outer mansion. People and demons alike scurried out of his path. He doesn't admit - *publicly* admit - how much he enjoys the royal routine, but at times like this he savors the knowledge that if he says jump, people get out of his damn way.

Spike was on his heels, keeping pace with him in that comfortable, effortless manner which would be seriously annoying if not for the fact that it actually did save time. "He's *fine*."

"He is not fine," Angel said. He mounted a staircase, barely noting the various forms of life that bowed and scraped out of his way. He headed inside, leaving the glamour and opulence of the house for the rabbit warren of the inner fortress. It took decades to carve it out of the Hollywood hillside and lately Angel's started to think that it just might be done. "He's fine when I say he's fine and he's not fine if I don't know where he is!"

They had been going at this for fifteen minutes. Prior to that had been a break of about an hour, and prior to *that* had been a half hour of the same. Spike didn't give a sigh of long suffering, but his eyes make it clear that he's thinking it anyway. "He. Is. *Fine*."

"No, he's not."

"He is!" Spike said. He threw his hands up into the air for dramatic effect. "Bloody Hell, if something was wrong don't you think you'd know?"

"No," Angel said, drawing the word out for the benefit of the stupid. "Because nobody will tell me where he is."

"Aren't you supposed to know it automatically anyway?" Spike asked. "Tied at the heart, he gets hurt, you suffer, blah blah blah?"

Angel threw open the heavy doors that barred the way to the tunnels. "That only works in fairy tales."

"This whole thing isn't a fairy tale?" Spike asked.

"No," Angel said. "Because in fairy tales I'm the one who shoves him into an oven and eats him for dinner. In real life it's other people who want to do that."

"Nobody's shoved him into an oven," Spike said through gritted teeth.

"Plenty of ways to hurt him besides ovens," Angel said. The world opened up before them as they reached the balcony above the common area. Nearly a hundred vampires, humans, and demons milled about below eating, drinking, talking, practicing weapons techniques, and more. Angel rested his hands on the railing and whistled for attention. In another example of what he rarely publicly admitted to liking, it took only a minute for everyone to still and hang onto his every word. "Any news?"

He'd been going on about this long enough that everyone knew what he was talking about. A demon helpfully called back, "No, sir."

"Fine," Angel said. "Let's try it this way. Either I *get* news by the end of the day, or I'm going to start killing indiscriminately and not really care about whether or not God sorts it all out on his end, okay?"

It was an empty threat - mostly - but there were various rumblings all the same. "Sir." "Yes, sir." and the like.

"Doing the best they can," Spike muttered.

"Don't care," Angel said. He headed towards his private wing.

"Not their fault he hasn't checked in yet," Spike said.

"Still don't care."

"You know," Spike observed, "if *I* had a father who was as big of a pain in the arse as you are - "

"*Two weeks* with this bullshit," Angel said, the rant comfortable and familiar since he has been saying it since the count was at a week and a half. "*Two weeks* he's out there. He doesn't write. He doesn't send a message. He doesn't check in. What the Hell is he thinking?"

"'Oh thank God I've got some peace and quiet'?" Spike guessed. "'Lord, it's good to be away from the old man's nattering'?"

"No, no, no," Angel said, dismissing that with a wave of his hand. "He's thinking 'Oh look, I get to drive Dad insane and I hardly have to lift a finger to do it!'" Angel sobers, glaring at Spike. "If he's *dead* - "

"He's not *dead*," Spike said, finally giving in to the urge to sigh.

"If he's *dead* - "

"He isn't *dead*," Spike said. He stepped in front of Angel, forcing him to stand still. "He's *fine*. He's your boy, which means he's strong, brave, and, thanks to Darla's side of the gene pool, not entirely stupid. Nothing can touch him. Which you *know* which is why you sent him out there in the first place!"

Angel was on the cusp of being mollified. "He's brash. He takes chances. He doesn't think things through."

"Right, which makes him like nobody else in this family," Spike retorted. He grinned, then resumed walking. "Come on. Let's get a breather before you take me down this path yet again."

Angel fell into step beside him. "I'm just saying - "

"A *breather*," Spike said. He opened the door to Angel's study, stepping aside so Angel could go in first. "Five minutes, or something. Surely your stressed-out mind can find something else to obsess over for five minutes?"

"I'm not stressed," Angel said.

"Hell you aren't."

"A father can't be worried about his son?"

"A father handled his son's missions just fine the last time he went out on them," Spike said. "'course this was a father who didn't have a few things of his own on his plate when it happened."

"A few - " Angel frowned, then got it. "It's not that."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, right."

Angel sat down in the big leather chair. "It's not that! Why would it be that?"

"Marriage a stress?" Spike asked. He lit a cigarette for himself, then blew out the smoke in a billowing cloud. "Can't imagine why anyone would think so."

"There's no stress," Angel said. "It's not like I haven't done this before."

"Yeah, and you were a pain in the arse in the weeks leading up to *that* too."

"I don't like things to be up in the air," Angel allowed. He reached out a hand, waiting until Spike lit another cigarette and handed it to him. Angel took a slow drag, then contemplated the glowing ashes. "When's *he* getting here, anyway?"

Spike shrugged, slumping onto the couch. "Fuck knows."

Angel rubbed the back of his neck. He tried to remember the last time he got something resembling actual sleep. "Me and the Council. Remind me why that's a good idea again?"

"Fuck I will," Spike said. "Never thought it was a good idea in the first place."

They'd gone over *this* a thousand times too. "We need them."

"Did fine without them so far," Spike said.

"Treading water," Angel said.

"Exactly," Spike said. "Meanwhile, they're the ones starting to drown."

"They're not dead yet," Angel said. He took another drag. "And what they *are* doesn't matter as much as what they *were*. They're the only thing that knows anything anymore. We need that."

"They're using you," Spike said.

Angel acknowledged that. "But only to a point. Can't do as much to me if I'm with a spouse."

Spike shook his head. "Bloody weird, that."

"Centuries old tradition," Angel reminded him.

"So's war," Spike retorted. "Doesn't mean it's less odd. 'sides, think the oldest profession has a few more years to it."

"It's not prostitution," Angel said.

"Barely," Spike said.

"It's not."

Spike didn't care enough to argue about it. Or at least that part of it. "Plenty of other things we could do."

"We need the Council," Angel said.

"They don't *want* us," Spike said.

"No, but they *need* me so they can suck it," Angel replied. For a second his lazy demeanor was replaced with the countenance of the man who'd managed to claim his land by pure strength and determination. "They got a problem with that I'd love to see the argument."

Spike backed down, but only slightly. "Can't believe you put them under your protection."

"Standard deal."

"Trust them to be as nice by you?" Spike asked.

"Trust them to be them," Angel said. He stabbed his cigarette out, then folded his hands over his stomach. "Which means they'll give me the least they can get away with and no more. Take this guy, for instance."

Spike's brows furrowed together. "Thought they were sending you a prince?"

"They are," Angel said. Then emphasized it. "A *prince*."

Spike's frown got deeper. "If you had a problem with the bits that he comes with you should've brought that up before signing the bloody contract."

"It's not *that*," Angel said. "It's the other part of it."

"What other part?"

"They sent a *guy*," Angel explained. "Guy. Not girl. Meaning they're not even taking a chance on the two of us having kids. I can be in the family, but God help me if I want to breed."

"Angel," Spike said, patiently, "you're a *vampire*. You couldn't have a kid with a human if it came pre-fertilized."

"I could have a kid," Angel said.

"No, you *couldn't*," Spike said.

"I *did*," Angel reminded him.

"Eighteen years ago thanks to some miracle that we *still* don't understand," Spike said. "That's an accident, not a sign of your bloody prowess."

Angel refused to be swayed from this. "Still. There's symbolism."

"Fine, symbolism," Spike said. "You're still the one who got yourself into this mess."

"It was the only way there could be trust," Angel said. He shrugged. "Could've been worse. Rather take a spouse than a trial."

"Yeah, taking a real hit on behalf of the Powers this time," Spike said. "Your own personal sex kitten. Oh - speaking of which?"

"Yeah?"

Spike adopted a serious look. "About the wedding night. You and I should talk. You know, man to man."

"You know what's funny?" Angel asked. "The fact that you think you're the first person to make that joke today."

Spike sat back, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "You actually going to do it?"

"Have to," Angel said. He tried to picture it. "Sex with someone I know nothing about. Yeah, that's in no way going to be awkward."

"Might be a real treat," Spike said. "They're supposed to be quite the little tigers."

"It's what they're trained for," Angel said.

Spike laughed, shaking his head. "Imagine that life, eh? Cradle to grave with nothing to concern you but fun with friction and a thousand and one ways to pretty up your hair. Which, come to think of it, probably means you and he will get along like a house afire."

"There's other stuff," Angel said. "Lessons in - Hell, I don't know. Everything. Which he'd better know. If I've got to deal with this I want somebody who's actually bringing something to the table besides his looks."

"Got something in mind for him?" Spike asked.

"Usual role," Angel said. "Running the house. Standing up for the ceremonial stuff. Anything that needs the title but not my actual muscle. They're supposed to be trained for that too. If he can handle it he can have it. Free me up for the important things."

Spike went off on his own tangent. "Think they trust you enough for a looker? Might've scraped the bottom of the barrel in your honor. Sent over somebody with one eye and a hump."

"Wouldn't surprise me," Angel said.

Spike swerved back to the original topic. "You'd give that much control to a Council boy? Literally give him the keys to the bloody castle?"

Angel gave him a look, the one that made it clear that the banter only goes as far as Angel lets it. "He's going to be mine, which means he gets whatever I say he gets."

Spike pursed his lips, as though he was literally chewing this over. "Anyone of them would stake you where you stand."

"Yeah, and I'd normally kill them without a thought," Angel said. "Gonna be a bold new era for the both of us."

"Still - "

There was a knock at the door.

"Yeah," Angel called out.

The door opened. Gunn's head appeared. "We got word."

"'bout fucking time," Angel said, sitting up. "Come in, what'd he say?"

"That you need to get off his ass about not sending word," Gunn replied. He grinned. "I might be paraphrasing."

Angel knew his son too well. "No, you're not."

"No, I'm not," Gunn agreed. "But he's okay."

"*Told* you," Spike muttered.

Angel ignored him. "Anything else?"

"Said he'll be at the North Shore if you want to meet him," Gunn said.

Angel thought about it. He looked at Spike. "That's easily two days out."

"So?" Spike asked. "I can handle it here."

"Yeah," Angel said. "But what about Prince Whatshisface? If he shows up - "

"If he shows up he can sit his royal backside in a chair and primp and preen until you get home," Spike said. "You're already married to the bloke. Not like he'll latch on to one of us by mistake."

"You sure?" Angel asked, already out of his chair and gathering his things.

"Positive," Spike said. "Besides, I'm sick of dealing with you. Let Connor have a round or three on your pre-wedding night jitters."

"I'm *not* nervous!" Angel said.

"That's as may be but you're annoying as all Hell," Spike retorted.

Angel turned to Gunn. "If you ever decide to reinstate vampire tradition and make a king out of yourself? Ignore that gut instinct that told you that your grandson should be one of the few people who doesn't have to fall in line when you do it."

Gunn smirked a human's smirk. "Yeah, I'll keep that in mind."

"Two days," Angel said, leaving the room.

"We'll be fine," Spike promised, and waved him out the door.