Punchdrunk

Author: Mkatsi

Rating:PG

Pairings: Spike/Angel.

Feedback: Yes Please

Disclaimer: The boy's aint mine.

Distribution: Please ask and let me know where it's going.

Summary: Spike gets beaten up, Angel turns up at the right time.

It didn't matter, in the face of it all Angel decided, that he hated Spike, or that Spike hated him. What mattered was that they were bonded, and whilst it was alright to confess feelings of distaste personally towards one another, it wasn't, however, alright for some one else to declare hatred of said party.

And whilst he watched Spike be verbally abused by a bunch of thugs Spike had just cheated (or possibly actually beaten, Angel wasn't sure, but was certain it didn't matter)at pool, it occurred to Angel that Spike was family, was a part of him, of his history and his life (unlife, whatever) and you never let family be hurt.

The thugs pushed the blonde around like he was a doll, a mere plaything- his blonde head bobbed weightlessly as his arrogant mouth continued to spurt English insults that the stupid humans thought meant something worse than they actually did.

And that was the trouble wasn't it? They were stupid humans, but to Spike, that was a threat- that was a large fucking threat that shouldn't be one in the slightest because some other stupid humans had gone and messed with science and wires and brain tissue until the peroxide vamp was nothing more than a caged animal- and Spike would hate to hear him say that, he'd hate it because it made him sound weak and helpless, and he'd hate it because it was the truth.

So the thugs pushed, and Spike reeled, and insulted again, and got a bloody nose, and a black eye, and he just kept talking, because really, there was nothing else he could do- he could run sure, but it wasn't his style, he was too proud. Always too proud.

Those men, all of them violent and for what reason? Angel didn't really know, knew why vamps were violent, was in the nature, but them…anyone's guess. They commented on hair, and tight black jeans, and sparkling blue eyes, pretty like a girls. And in that moment, Angel realised that he was stood watching when he could be doing- it took all of twenty seconds, but felt like less to go over there and wordlessly break two noses and send his foot into a groin and listen to the satisfying crunches, and look into surprised blue eyes, and hear the overlaying wonderings if Spike's 'boyfriend' had come to save him- and it took him a moment, but Angel was there, and found himself telling the thug that yes he had come to do just that. Then there was nothing but the long forgotten taste of Spike's stunned lips, and the tang of stale nose blood, and a the lingering scent of alcohol and smoke from the bar as the world faded away.