A/N - This is the first Buffyverse story I ever wrote. It's not explicitly Spangel but it definitely has pre-Spangel themes. There are going to be four chapters in total.

"Angel Investigations, we help-"

"Good. Big man in charge. Listen close."

Angel blinked at the phone in confusion, hoping desperately that this wasn't happening. "Spike?"

"Course it's Spike. Listen-"

Angel sighed. Cordelia was home getting ready for a shoot, Wes was in England trying to expand his library, and they didn't have a case on tap at the moment (which Angel had mixed feelings about, seeing as how they desperately needed the money). But since there was nothing he could do about that, Angel had been looking forward to a relaxing evening alone.

"Why are you calling me?" he asked.

Spike sighed heavily from the other end. "It's Dru. She's gone and got herself captured, I need this spell to get her free. This guy I threatened at Wolfram and Hart said you could break in and get it for me."

"Why would I?" Angel asked, feeling his evening slipping through his fingers.

"It's Dru-"

"I don't care," Angel snapped. "One less psychotic vampire sounds pretty good to me. Go after her, maybe you'll get staked too."

Spike made a miffed sort of sound and sighed again. "Do it or I'll kill your friends."

Angel raised an eyebrow, knowing that Spike couldn't see it, but feeling that it improved the effect anyway. "Even without the chip, I wouldn't be too worried."

Spike growled. "I'll kill you?"

Angel laughed into the receiver and reached to hang up the phone.

"Wait! Don't!"

"Well?"

Spike paused. "...I'll pay you," he mumbled, voice thick with misery.

Angel considered his options, the lights choosing this moment to flicker ominously. He looked over at his desk, the unpaid electric bill stacked neatly atop the late mortgage and the overdue utilities bill.

"Fine," he said unhappily. Hopefully, he wouldn't have to do too much this evening, maybe a little research or a bit of legwork.

"I'll be there in an hour," Spike said, and hung up before Angel could protest. Angel dropped his head into his hands. Spike was very possibly the last person he wanted to see tonight, but Cordelia had been nagging at him to get a new case, and money was tight.

Angel groaned and leaned back in his chair, his glance falling on a bottle of scotch on the table against the wall. He considered. He did hate Spike a lot. And one drink couldn't hurt, it would just help him unwind. It wasn't like he would get slammed, just get a small buzz going. He thought that having something to take the edge off would make this night significantly easier. Angel shrugged and poured himself a drink.

There was no part of his present situation that Spike was happy about. He wasn't dating Dru anymore, but he didn't want her captured. He didn't even want to think about what they were doing to her. Seducing her, probably. He frowned. Even though it had been a while since he'd seen her, he still didn't care for that at all.

And almost as bad as that was the fact that the only person he could rely on to rescue her was Angel. Spike would probably cut off a finger if it meant he didn't have to go to Angel for help, but he simply wasn't sure what to do aside from that. Angel apparently hated Wolfram and Hart, and Spike didn't know anything about the lawyers. There was no way he would be able to successfully break in and get the spell book without the other vampire, even if the thought of working with Angel made him shudder….

Spike knocked on the door of the address he'd been given. Nothing happened. Spike knocked again. Still nothing. He checked the address written on the piece of paper he was holding, and confirmed with the address displayed on the side of the building. Yep, Hyperion Hotel, this was definitely the right place. And he'd told Angel he was coming, so why wasn't he answering? Spike started pounding on the door. He hoped Angel was asleep, so he would have the pleasure of waking him up.

"Come in!" he finally heard a muffled voice call from inside. Spike pushed himself through the door, feeling embarrassed. He hadn't even bothered to check if it was open.

The second he crossed the threshold, he saw something being hurled towards his head. Well, near his head. A glass bottle hit the wall a good two feet to the right of him and shattered. Spike blinked at it, then at Angel, who was standing in the center of the lobby, swaying gently and clutching another bottle in his hand.

"You missed," Spike said slowly.

"Well…" Angel trailed off, and Spike wasn't sure that he was going to finish the sentence. He looked around blankly for what felt to Spike like an absurdly long time. "I hit one of you."

"Are you...drunk?"

There was a long pause. "Yes," he finally muttered, looking down.

Spike let the silence lengthen, genuinely unsure how to handle the unexpected and unwelcome development. Angel had the grace to look slightly ashamed, which didn't appease Spike at all.

"You're fucking drunk?!" Spike crossed his arms, then felt faintly ridiculous and uncrossed them. "You knew I was coming!"

"Yeah," Angel said, taking a swig from his bottle. "That was kind of the point."

Spike fumed wordlessly, unsure quite how to express his displeasure. "But - you promised - I'm payin' you!"

Spike wasn't entirely clear on how to handle the situation. Usually, even when he was acting the injured party, there was a small part of him that knew most of the problem was his fault. This, however, was different. Spike had every right to be furious, and it was an entirely new sensation.

Across the room, Angel shrugged gracelessly. "I can multitask."

"You think I like comin' to you?" Spike yelled, finally deciding on a course of action. "I don't wanna be here anymore than you wanna see me! Probably less!"

Angel snickered and took another pull from his bottle. "Doubtful."

"That's it!" Spike turned around and strode (rather impressively, he hoped) towards the door. "I don't need your help, I can bloody well do it myself! Have fun drinking yourself blind, I hope you fucking choke."

Angel watched Spike (both Spikes) leave, a little voice in the back of his head nagging at him. He did his best to ignore it. Spike was a soulless, conniving, selfish, whiny, irritating little bitch, albeit one whom Angel had promised to help. But he was storming out on his own volition, and Angel wasn't duty bound to stop him. He'd much rather stay here, alone with the exciting assortment of bottles he'd found in the hotel's old bar.

The image of Cordelia rose unbidden to the forefront of his mind, scowling at him. That got to him, even through the alcohol induced haze. Angel groaned.

"Spike, wait."

The younger vampire stopped, shoulders set in a look of angry defiance specifically calculated to be irritating.

"What?" Spike said petulantly, not bothering to turn and look back at Angel.

"Don't leave," Angel said miserably. "We...we really need the money."

Spike growled and turned back around. "Can you still do the job?" he asked.

"It's not very hard to break in," Angel said. "I've done it a bunch of times."

Angel swayed slightly. He wished the ground felt a little less tilty. He thought he would be able to give a more confident yes if the world would just settle down a little bit.

"Alright," Spike said. "But I'm not pleased with this behavior at all. I'll be leaving a very negative review."

"Well I'll...I'll be leaving a very negative review of your face," Angel said, hiccuping slightly. Spike groaned and Angel smirked to himself. Then he looked down at his hand. There was still a bottle of tequila there. He took a drink.

"Stop drinking!" Spike yelled. "Let's just go. Before you can't walk anymore."

Angel nodded slightly and followed Spike out of the lobby.

"Alright," Spike said once they were out on the street. "Where's your car?"

Something struck Angel as very wrong about this statement, and he squinted at Spike. "We...we can't drive there. I can't drive now, I'll hit everyone!"

"I'm going to drive."

"Noooo," Angel said. "Nope. You can't drive my car. It's my car."

"Well, how do you suppose we get there then?" Spike asked. He sounded pretty annoyed.

Angel considered. The question was kind of a stumper. Then he turned, and his eyes lit upon the Metro stop, only about a block away. He pointed. Spike looked where he was pointing and groaned.

"We're taking the bloody Metro to Wolfram and Hart?"

Angel nodded solemnly.

"Alright," Spike said. "Come on."

Spike had read the map and figured out the stop they needed while a very drunk Angel swayed behind him. Then he had bought two TAP cards, since Angel had conveniently forgotten to bring any money. Then he had guided Angel onto the proper train, and now the two were sitting in the corner of a nearly empty Metro car.

"How long until we get there?" Angel whined. Spike considered slapping him. Sometimes a good slap was all it took to sober a person up. Plus it would be fun.

"I dunno," Spike said. Angel seemed to have forgotten that Spike had never taken the

Metro before. Although, to be fair, Spike wasn't sure how often Angel took it either. "Twenty minutes?"

"Huh," Angel said, frowning vaguely. "That's so long."

"We could have driven," Spike pointed out. "What's the big deal about me driving anyway?"

"No, no, no. Never again." Angel shook his head vigorously, then stopped, looking a little ill. "Not after that time you borrowed my horse."

"That was a hundred years ago, and it wasn't even your horse. You stole it."

"Which made it mine," Angel said, frowning. "And just cuz you were 'hungry' is no excuse."

Spike tried not to laugh and failed miserably. "Look on your face was priceless, though."

"So was yours, when I threw you outside a few minutes before sunrise." Angel looked rather pleased with himself.

"You were a right evil bastard," Spike said, trying to keep the admiration from his voice.

"And you still are," Angel said, hiccuping and raising his bottle of tequila to his lips.

"Damn right I am," Spike said happily. Beside him, Angel began chugging from the bottle.

"Alright, give it here," Spike said, nudging Angel in the ribs. He couldn't have the other vampire passing out on him in the middle of the job.

"Don't want to," Angel mumbled, separating himself from the bottle just long enough to glare at Spike.

Spike tugged the tequila from Angel's grip and took a few swallows, then passed it back. Angel grinned happily and punched Spike in the shoulder (harder than Spike would have thought he was capable of).

"Yeah, I know, I'm a bloody saint," Spike muttered. "Shut up and drink your tequila."

Angel sprawled in the uncomfortable plastic seat, trying not to fall as the train screeched in and out of stops. He was starting to feel a little sick from the motion.

Next to him, Spike motioned for the bottle again. Angel passed it over, hoping that Spike would get a little drunk too and forget that he was mad, and then Angel would definitely get paid. Spike took it and drank, then made a dissatisfied face.

"Empty." He dropped it on the floor of the train, where it rolled under a seat across the compartment, almost hitting the feet of a woman sitting there. Angel supposed she had been there the whole time, he just hadn't noticed.

"Sokay, I have another one," Angel announced triumphantly, reaching into his jacket and producing his backup bottle.

Spike made a small sound in the back of his throat, and removed the bottle from Angel's hand. "I'm going to take this one for now," Spike said, stashing it in his coat. "You've had enough."

"Heyyyy," Angel whined. "I was drinking that. You're horrible."

"You already knew that."

"I hate you."

"You already did."

Angel considered. Spike was annoying, certainly, but Angel wasn't sure he really hated him. At least, he hadn't before Spike took his drink….

"Why is she staring at me?" Angel said loudly, distracted by the woman sitting across the aisle, who was looking at him and Spike distastefully.

Spike looked up and saw the woman as well. Angel watched as Spike let his fangs pop out. He snarled at her, and the woman squeaked and looked away from them. Angel nodded, satisfied.

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, you really showed her…."

"Oh," Spike said abruptly. "This next stop is ours."

The train braked sharply. Spike stood up. Angel looked at him in confusion.

"Can you stand?" Spike asked.

"Oh," Angel said. "Yeah…." Angel hadn't really been paying attention to what Spike had said earlier. He hadn't realized he was supposed to be standing.

Slowly, one hand braced on the seat next to him, Angel eased himself into a standing position. The world tilted alarmingly around him. Angel sighed. He was glad he was drunk, he thought that was definitely improving his time with Spike. But he was starting to wish the world would swirl a little less, he wasn't sure how he was expected to break into Wolfram and Hart when the ground wouldn't even stay still….

"Oh my god," Spike groaned. "You can't even bloody stand, I knew you wouldn't be able to handle this-"

"I can stand," Angel said. He was pretty sure he was standing as he said it. And he thought he was only swaying a little.

He followed Spike off the train. The world was steadier when he was walking. He wondered how drunk he looked from the outside. He thought the answer might be "very." He wondered what Cordelia or Wes would say if they could see him now. They would laugh, he thought. Maybe he should try to get them drunk tomorrow night. It would be fun to all be drunk together. And he was starting to think he should be drinking a lot more often….

Spike headed for the stairs leading up to the street, then paused as he realized that Angel wasn't beside him. He turned around to find Angel standing behind him on the platform, looking slightly distressed.

"What is it?" he asked impatiently.

"I think I'm gonna throw up," Angel said, a little confused sounding. He waited a few seconds, then nodded. "Yep. Definitely gonna puke."

"Bloody hell," Spike said to no one in particular, thinking seriously about just leaving Angel alone on the platform. But he still needed him to get into Wolfram and Hart's offices, at least if he wanted to rescue Drusilla. Which he very much did. Spike groaned and sat heavily on the steps.

"Get it over with," he said, waving impatiently at Angel, who was lurching towards a trash can.

A few minutes later, Angel pushed himself out of the trash can and managed to walk uncertainly to Spike.

"Okay, I'm good."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You're fuckin' slammed, maybe I should just leave you here. You can barely walk."

"Nooooooo," Angel protested. "I'm not even drunk really. Look." Moving carefully, he walked forward in an exaggeratedly straight line.

Spike regarded him skeptically and raised an eyebrow.

"Come on," Angel said, widening his eyes and looking at Spike pleadingly. "I can do it. You need my help."

"Fine," Spike growled, rising to his feet. "Wipe that stupid look off your face, though. You look like someone killed your damn dog."

"It's not stupid," Angel mumbled from behind Spike as they began to climb the stairs. "I've been told it's very effective. Cordy says-"

"Shut up," Spike suggested.

"Kay."

They climbed the rest of the stairs in silence, somehow making it to the top without Angel losing his balance and breaking his neck. Not that Spike was glad Angel was managing to keep himself in one piece. He needed Angel's help, that was all.

"Spike."

"What?"

"Huh. Spike. That's fun to say, is that why you chose it? Spike. Spiiiiiiiiike."

"I will fucking stake you," Spike hissed, whirling on Angel, who looked rather hurt.

"I was just gonna say that the offices are up ahead. You didn't need to yell."

"I can see 'em, I'm not blind," Spike snapped. "And you were bein' annoying."

Angel didn't respond, and Spike breathed a small sigh of relief. "Okay, so how are we doing this?"

Silence from Angel. Spike looked around, wondering if he'd wandered off or passed out or something, but he was standing behind Spike, arms crossed clumsily.

"Well?"

"I'm not telling until you decide to be nice."

"Alright," Spike said, fighting hard to keep his voice even. "I'm...sorry that I was...mean to you earlier. I won't do it again."

Angel looked at Spike out of the sides of his eyes. "I forgive you."

Spike waited a few seconds. "Now...how do we get in to Wolfram and Hart?"

Angel carefully examined the outside of the building for several moments. Spike watched him closely, but he didn't want to interrupt him, not if Angel was planning how they were going to get inside.

Finally, Angel spoke. "It shouldn't be hard," he said. "The offices are closed. And...and no one should be there this late. I bet we can just break a window."

Spike stared at him. "So...will there even be anyone in the building?"

Angel shrugged. "Maybe a security guard?"

"Why in the bloody hell did it take you so long to figure out it's closed and we could just break a window? We're kind of on a schedule! And I could have done this myself if you'd just told me that earlier!"

Angel shrugged, a little defensively. Spike closed his eyes and took a second to gather himself but decided not to press it. Angel led them towards a side window, which he proceeded to smash with his bare fist.

"That won't...set off an alarm or anything?"

"I dunno."

Spike's eyes widened. "You don't know if it'll set off an alarm or not? Would you mind telling me things like that before you...before you just-"

Spike was too mad to finish his sentence, and Angel clearly wasn't listening anyways. Spike watched as he clambered gracelessly through the window, and he heard a faint thump as Angel dropped to the other side.

"You alright?"

"Mmm. Yeah."

The answer sounded rather unsure, but there wasn't much Spike could do about it. There wasn't much Spike wanted to do about it. He kind of hoped Angel had damaged himself from the fall somehow, it would serve him right for trying to work a case drunk and then proceeding to fuck up every single thing he had done since then.

Spike proceeded to haul himself in through the window, then lowered himself to the ground next to Angel. Who was still on the ground. He didn't appear to have gotten up since he'd gone in through the window. Spike sighed.

"Alright," Spike said. "Now, where is this book?"
"I dunno. Could be a few places."
Spike waited a few seconds, but Angel didn't seem to have any interest in either elaborating or in standing up. He had just about decided to leave Angel there and tear the place apart when there was a noise from across the lobby. He looked up and spotted a security guard, drawing his weapon and hurrying towards them. A human security guard.

Spike looked at the security guard, then down at Angel, who was still sprawled on the floor and seemed very content to stay there.

"That's it. We're fucked."