Disclaimer and such: Yeah, I'm not nearly genius enough to have any rights to these characters, the show or any thing relating to it. It didn't make it, I just write about it. So don't sue my ass.

Author's Note: Just wrote this little story because I am and will always be a fangirl. Yes, I'm proud of that. This story takes place somewhere towards the end of season five, and focuses on the various love lives of the characters - mostly Spike/Angel. Nuff said. Enjoy.

In One Night

1: Out Cold

He was alone.

The silent darkness of his apartment proved that much. Spike sat indian style on his bed, his head resting in his hand. He began to whistle, becoming board in the black quietness of his abode. For the third time this week his electricity had been turned off. Bloody electric companies, never could get anything done right.

Spike eyed his faithful black duster lying on the arm of his couch, he didn't really want to go out tonight...but if power wasn't restored to his place soon, it would be that or sit alone in the dark for the rest of the night - and he really didn't want to be left alone with his thoughts right now. Spike let out a heavy sigh and fell back on his bed. He knew if he went out there was only one place he'd end up, at Wolfram and Heart. He knew that standing in the doorway of Angel's office wouldn't make the situation any better, in fact it would probably make matters worse. If only he hadn't said anything, if only they hadn't been out there on that roof, if only he had remembered to put something in the door before letting it slam shut. That was in the past now though, and it was too late for him. He had, in the heat of the moment, confessed everything to Angel. It really wasn't his fault though, was it? Spike thought the two of them were about to become dust bunnies, he had to tell him, he had to confess, didn't he?

Spike sat up again and rubbed his face; there was no use fighting it any longer. He pulled himself out of bed and grabbed his jacket. He was in an almost angry mood, mad at himself for giving in to what he knew would only bring him more misery. Still, he put on his boots and grabbed his pack of cigarettes. He was going to go through with it. Even if he was rejected, even if his heart was about to be ripped from his chest, thrown to the ground, burned, and stomped out.

Lighting a cigarette and taking a long drag, Spike stepped out of his apartment building and into the night air. He walked slowly, trying to keep his mind from the possible messy situation that was about to unfurl. It was, of course, a futile attempt. Spike had lost complete control of his thoughts, they kept bringing Angle to his mind. How would he react? Will Angel even want to talk to him? Exactly how uncomfortable was their conversation going to be?

As Spike walked, rain began to fall. At first he barely noticed, but when the rain began to pummel him, and soak trough his cloathing, he quickened his pace. By the time he reached the doors of Wolfram and Heart, Spike was nervous, excited, apprehensive, and worst of all...wet. He opened the doors and headed for the elevator. The ride up seemed to last forever. Spike went over what he was going to say when he saw Angel, he had carefully laid out each line and each response to the numerous questions Angel was bound to ask.

At last the elevator reached the floor. Spike took in a deep breath, this was it. He was prepared, he was ready for anything. Whatever Angel threw at him, he could take it, he'd have to. The doors opened and the elevator flooded with the light from the building. Spike took one step, breathed deep...and passed out cold.