Chapter 2: Coming Home

Fortunately, my sleeper hold kept Angel unconscious long enough to get him into the car and all the way home. I suspect the head wound had more to do with the length of his unconsciousness than did my physical prowess. Maybe my blood would be gone, used up by the time he woke. Yeah, you should be so lucky, Spike.

We'd been tracking the demons for three days before finding their nest and though we hadn't been very far from the castle the whole time, we hadn't been back to it either. I was glad to be home as I carried Angel through the front doors, barking at the first slayer I saw. "Oi! Girl! Go get Buffy, yeah?"

I took the stairs up to our room two at a time, pausing at the top when I realized the girl had followed me. "What's a matter?" I asked her, sneering. "You deaf or just stupid, bit?"

"She's not here, Mr. Spike."

"Fuck me," I muttered. "Where'd she go, then?"

The girl, I thought her name might be Rita, refused to look at me. She was new, I remembered now, just a few weeks into training. "Report!" I barked, hoping a direct order would kick her into gear.

She stood up straighter, saying, "Sir! Summers is working an op at the Hellmouth."

"Bollocks! She knows she's not supposed to be working field ops! What's so special about this one, then?"

"Very large demon. She didn't think any of the others had the experience to take it down."

I shook my head in disbelief. "What's to know, bit? Hack until dead…really not that difficult."

Rita nodded, keeping her eyes downcast. I turned back down the hallway, but she cleared her throat and asked, "Sir? Is Mr. Angel okay? I mean, should we bring him to the infirmary?"

"No, but go find me some ropes and find Fred, okay, duck? I'll be in our room."

"Right away, sir!"

Now I know that the Scoobies got things done in Sunnydale – saving the world and all that rot – but I really loved this whole chain of command thing Buffy had going on here. No arguing with me, no insulting me. Only 'yes, sir' and 'no, sir'. Bloody brilliant.

I brought Angel through the sitting room and into the bedroom, laying him out on the mattress and pulling two pairs of handcuffs out from under the bed. It felt wrong using them to restrain Angel. He hates being tied up. Would rather be the one doing the tying, yeah? But until I was sure he remembered who he was, I wasn't going to let him out. Especially with all these girls around. I felt queasy at the thought that Angel might succumb to the lust my blood incited and, still not remembering why he normally keeps himself in check, force himself on one of them.

Fred knocked on the open bedroom door. "Hey, Spike," she said, eying Angel carefully. "What's goin' on? I'm not interrupting, am I? I mean, Rita said…"

"No, pet. You're not interrupting." I went to her, pulling her back into the sitting room. "Angel got knocked on the head and has a slight case of total amnesia."

"Oh, lord," she breathed, looking past me to the bed where he still lay. "Why did ya have to tie him up?"

"I'm a total git," I said, smiling sadly, "and I fed him my blood, hoping it would help bring him 'round. It just made him crazy." I dropped my eyes. "He doesn't even remember me. He freaked out when I kissed him."

"Oh, Spike," she sighed, gripping my arm with a sympathetic hand. "I'm so sorry. He doesn't remember anything?"

"Not even his own name, pet. I had to knock him out to get him back here, but I don't think he'll be out for much longer." I brought her back into the bedroom and got the first aid kit out of the closet. "I was hoping you could patch up his head for me while I finish tying him down."

"Sure." Fred took the box from me, laying it out on the bed next to Angel and sifting through it for the supplies she'd need.

I found a length of thin rope under the bed and used it to tie his feet together, not immobilizing him, but making it more difficult to escape. I heard a knock on the outer door of the suite and went to greet Rita with the ropes. Smart girl, she had even thrown in a few chains and padlocks. Slayers in our outfit learned early how to properly restrain a vampire.

When I returned to the bedroom, Angel was holding Fred against him in a kiss that she was struggling valiantly to end. He'd broken one of the cuffs and left it dangling on the headboard. Damn. We'd have to buy new ones.

"Angel!" I cried, rushing to free Fred from his grasp. I straddled him, using my weight to hold him down while I pried his arm and his head away from Fred. "Let go! You're hurting her, mate."

Arms shaking with the strain, I finally managed to separate Angel from Fred, who fell to the ground, face already bruising over her shocked expression. "Rita!" I bellowed, knowing I'd need extra help to keep him down. "Anyone! Help!"

Angel snarled up at me in full vamp face, so I showed him mine, hoping he'd back down. "Get off me, you fucker!" he growled, bucking something fierce.

"No!" I cried. "You've had my blood, luv. It makes you all growly and violent, and I can't have you attacking any more of your friends."

"The twig is one of my friends?" he asked, calming a bit. "But I wanted her and I thought vampires could just take what we wanted. That we wouldn't have any friends. Aren't monsters all about pain and death?"

"You're different," I insisted. "We're different, pet."

Fred rose to her feet next to the bed, but her posture was wrong. "Illyria," I said through clenched teeth. "I really think you should get out of here."

"Your king has injured and insulted us, Spike. We would like to exact our revenge in slow and painful ways." Fred's change of attitude and her threats made my sire lose his game face and start struggling again, eyes wide in confusion.

"He's not quite himself, pet," I assured her, riding Angel as he bucked under me, trying to get free.

"But when an animal contracts a disease that makes it violent, in your world, that animal is destroyed. Is this not the same thing?"

"Illyria, kitten," I stressed, "Angel is not an animal. He's a person, that I love, and he's not diseased. He's just…unwell."

"I'm worse than fucking unwell, you prick," Angel struggled under me. "I'm being held prisoner, you've turned me into a monster, and you won't even let me be a monster."

"It's for your own good, pet," I yelled, sighing in relief when Rita and another slayer came into the room. "A little help, girls?"

The three of us got Angel subdued and tied to the bed as well as we could, while Illyria stood in the corner, menacing Angel with ungodly looks.

"Alright girls," I said when we were done. "Thanks for your help. Would you take Illyria down to the infirmary, put some ice on her face?"

"I wish to stay, to make sure your king injures no one else."

"I've got it, Lyrie. Go with the nice ladies and have your face taken care of. If you don't, Fred will be upset with you."

After a lengthy pause, she said, "I find your reasons suitable," and then stalked out, the two young slayers in her wake.