Disclaimer – Don't own them, even though I should.

Author's Notes – Okay so I wrote Buffy/Angel and Angel/Spike a long, long, loooong time ago before I turned to PR Jason/Tommy. Kind of missed Spike so thought what the hell I'll give it another shot.

Also I know Angel was not Spike's Sire, well not in the turning sense at least. But in season 5 of 'Angel' Spike does tell him flat out he was more of a Sire then Dru, despite the female being the one to kill him it was Angelus that taught him and made him who he was. Thus why Spike will call Angel his Sire in this story.

Summary – Instead of going to the Scooby Gang in Sunnydale a freshly chipped Spike runs to LA and Angel for help.

-o-

Dropping In

-o-

He smelled of fear. He smelled of sorrow. Worst of all he wrecked of human violation.

Looking at his childe, Angel continued to clean a particularly nasty cut which trailed from his breast bone to his naval. Of all the things he had planned for the day cleaning and bandaging his now unconscious boy had not been one of them.

-oooooo-

(20 minutes ago)

"Hang on." Moving quickly through the dark apartment, Angel sighed as his visitor knocked once more. He couldn't understand why Wesley always insisted on knocking. Cordelia seemed to have no problem just taking the elevator down and dropping in despite what he may be doing. Nor had Doyle before his passing. The newest member of his team however seemed a tad more respectful. Maybe it was a British thing.

Dismissing this theory as he recalled his youngest childe was just as British as the ex-watcher and lacked any and all his calm dignity and manners, Angel reached for the door knob. Speak of the devil.

"Spike." Looking at the young vampire, well young to him, Angel's eyes racked over his leather covered and injured form. No weapons, good sign. No death threats, odd. No cursing or insults, worrisome. Shaking and looking at the ground, cause for alarm.

"Spike I'm busy so if you're just here to rant and rave about the gem of Amara I don't want to hear it. It's gone, destroyed." Arms crossed over his chest and senses assaulted by the waves of fear and sorrow coming from his childe Angel decided to leave it at that and not mention the torture session that went with the topic. After all Spike was just doing what Angelus had taught him and not even doing it himself. Angel knew why too. Despite all of the blonde vampire's though talk and anger at him he was still his Sire and the thought of harming him made his senses reel and blood scream in protest. He would know after all, he had been the one to end his own Sire's life.

Shaking his head smally and making a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sob, the shaking was becoming more prominent by the minute.

"Then why are you here?" Tone laced with annoyance, bur softer then before Angel tried to get a look at Spike's face to prove his suspicions wrong, but the blonde was having none of it. When he got no answer Angel's patience was wearing thin. "Spike if you're not going to tell me why you're here and what you want then I'm going to go back to work and send you back to Sunnydale so Buffy can deal with you."

Tensing sharply at this Spike's fear-laced scent hit such a high level that he wasn't surprised as Angel literally had to take a step back.

"Spike? Spike what it is? What's happened?" Voice holding nothing but concern now, Angel reached for his childe and managed to finally tilt his head up. Feeling his blood boil as he saw the once perfect face now bruised and laced with what looked like clean and precisely placed incisions Angel barely contained the growl that threatened to rip from his throat.

Blue eyes sparkling with unshed tears of misery Spike opened his mouth to try and explain, try and insist Angel stop touching his face, try and curse, scream, and rant about what 'they' had done to him. Unfortunately his voice had other ideas. "Sire." As soon as it was out, Spike felt what was left of his world crumble along with his starved and tortured body.

Barely catching him before he hit the floor in a sobbing heap of pain and leather, Angel was at a loss. "Spike, Spike shh calm down. Spike…Will, shh William it's okay, it's all okay. I've got you, your Sire's got you now and you're safe." Cringing as the words left his mouth, Angel silently reminded himself that he should know better then to cave to such instincts. He was not his Sire, not Angelus, not fully at least and blurring those lines would not do either any good in the end.

"N-never safe…No more, Si-Sire help, help m-make…no hurting. Hurts." Gasping in between sobs, Spike barely heard Angel's soothing words.

"God, what's happened to you?"

-oooooo-

So here he stood twenty minutes later after his childe had passed out from his emotional exhaustion and starvation, and he was still no closer to solving the mystery of what had happened.

Moving to clean up the scraps of bandages and medicines he'd used to patch his broken William up, Angel just couldn't fathom what had done such damage to him. The incisions were deep and cleanly made as if by a scalpel. The burns done in neat squares and circles most likely from sponges soaked in holy water. Several of the bruises developed around puncture wounds as if made by an IV or injection. What the hell had happened to his boy?

To be continued………..