It was a very good thing that Spike's soul wasn't as flighty as Angel's had once been. Why? Simple. He was happy. No not just happy, he was perfectly blissful. But, really, even if he could lose his soul it wouldn't make a difference. Unlike his psychotic counterpart, the soul didn't change who he was, it just burdened him with guilt. Though not nearly so much as Angel. He didn't feel guilty for the lives he'd taken. It was just the way things were, he was a predator and unfortunately humans were his prey. Darwinism at it's best - or worst if you happen to be the human part of the equation.

No, his guilt was more for the pain he'd caused, the unnecessary maiming and torturing. But still, he tried not to let that cripple him, after all, the demon had demanded the pain almost as much as the blood. Honestly, the demon still craved the pain, the terror, the abandonment of morality, it was just easier to resist with the soul in place.

The soul had made all the difference to Buffy, suddenly he'd become someone to be trusted, someone worthy of loving touches and smiles. All that time he'd spent loving her, being there for her, basically her man-whore, and none of it had meant anything to her. Then he'd come back tortured, crazy, guilt ridden, and completely unstable and she'd taken him in and deemed him lovable or at least likable. Part of him hated her for that, but a larger part of him just pitied her. He knew that she'd always despise herself for the things she needed - the darkness and danger. She'd deny herself even the slightest taste and it would be her downfall. Not as a slayer, but as a woman.

That was the reason he hadn't yet told any of the rest of them that he was back. Buffy thought that he was deserving of her now and she also knew that he could give her that edge she needed. He'd be perfect for keeping up appearances and scratching that 'unwholesome' itch. If she decided to come after him it would upset Willow. He cared about Buffy, but he loved Willow. The last thing he wanted to do was to cause problems between them, but he would not allow Buffy to come between Willow and him. Soul or not if Buffy so much as made Willow shed a single tear he'd be increasing his slayer kill count by one.

Then there was Angel. He was in a bad way right now. It was all Spike could do to keep the wanker alive. He fed him, made sure he didn't dust himself in the errant sunbeams that tried to make their way around the blackout curtains, going so far even as to bathe the suicidal idiot. The night Willow showed up he'd thought they were making progress. He'd heard Angel crying before that, smelled the remnants of his tears, but that was his first actual break down. The first time Spike had been privy to the angst he lived in daily.

He'd tried to reach him then, tried to explain, to get him to understand that none of it had been solely his fault. And, he did seem a little better. He ate without being forced and he bathed himself willingly, though Spike was sure that had more to do with little Angel than any real desire to care for himself. He'd smelled and seen his grandsire's unintentional hard on the night he'd joined him in the shower. At first he'd thought that Angel would try to relive years gone by. However, he was pushed out of the shower shortly after rinsing Peaches' hair. That had also been the first night he'd eagerly drank his dinner.

Regardless of the reasons, he was sure Angel would be coming around soon, but a visit from any of those who'd refused assistance would not be a good thing. Once the older vamp had time to see reason, to understand Giles reluctance and downright denial to add to the white hat folds in that particular battle, Spike was certain he would understand. It hadn't taken himself long to realize that adding anyone else to the battle that night would have meant more human blood on their hands. He really hated to admit it, but Giles had been right not to send them.

He was currently sitting in the chair across from Angel's bed waiting for the slow git to finish his blood. He couldn't wait to get back to Willow. She'd be in the kitchen by now having her unleaded coffee and waiting for him to join her. He'd have his own mug of sustenance and then maybe he could convince her to sit on the counter for him again. It was the perfect height for him to kneel or stand between her legs.

"Spike?"

"Yeah, mate?"

"What's really going on with Willow and you? Are you using her? Because I've got to tell you out of all the people I've known, she's the only one left that I would kill for even with the soul anchored."

It wasn't a shock to him that Angel knew of his more recent……..activities with Red. Most of the time he didn't even shower before coming in here, but even if he did he knew Angel would still smell her all over him. What shocked him was that Angel sounded put together, coherent, a lot like the Angel he'd been before that dark alley. That was definitely a step in the right direction.

"'M not going to hurt her, at least not on purpose. Love her, don't I?" he rolled his eyes and shook his head. It pissed him off to no end that Angel thought himself the only demon capable of feeling and reveling in human emotion.

"Love's never really been your thing. Most of the time you end up hurting the ones you love most. You try, and I know you do, but Willow isn't the kind of girl you try with. Willow is the kind of girl you love and cling to for the rest of your life - or hers as it may be."

"Don't waste your time trying to warn me off Willow, Angel. She loves me too and I'd rather be dust than hurt her. And for the record ya ponce, most times it's me that ends up hurt, not the other way 'round. 'Sides, this isn't a new thing we've got going here." Angel looked genuinely puzzled, Spike prided himself on being the one to put that look on his face. Angel for all his faults wasn't usually confused by much of anything, and it took a helluva lot to surprise the old bastard.

"It isn't? I mean, I'm sure I would have noticed before now if you'd been……………"

"Not my story to tell, 's hers. Well, I guess it's partly mine but I can't bloody well tell you my part without telling hers as well and I'm not sure she's ready for that. Now, if you'd get on with it," he waved his hand toward the cooling mug of blood, "I've got a sexy little witch waiting for me."

Angel tilted the mug and downed it in three easy gulps. He held it out for Spike to take and scooted back down in the bed.

"Hey," He raised back up as Spike neared the door, "Got any clean sheets? Thought I might get a shower and I think I'd like to change the bed as well."

Spike's eyebrows shot up, but he didn't comment on the fact that Angel was considering showering and changing his bedding without being coerced.

"Sure, bring em up in a few."

"Could you send them up with Willow." At the look of rage forming on Spike's face, he quickly added, "Please? I need to apologize to her, and I'd like to do that in private." Please? Had he just said please?

"Please? I don't know what you're playin' at ya great pouf, but if memory serves, over a hundred years between us, and that may very well be the first time you've ever said please to me."

A chuckle, dark, dirty almost and against his will Spike felt a twitch deep in his groin. "Now come on, Spike. That's not exactly true. Was a time when 'please' was something we said to each other rather often. Of course there was less clothing involved………….."

Shell shocked, it took Spike a minute to find his voice. "Angel…………" Not sure what to say or how to say it he just shook his head.

"Sorry, sorry, don't know where that came from, shouldn't have said that. Just send Willow up? I really do need to apologize to her and I'd like to talk to her for a bit. Let her know I don't blame her."

"Tell ya what, you get a shower and I'll bring up your clean clothes and sheets. If you wanna talk to Red, gonna have to come downstairs for it, yeah? If you manage to drag your broody arse to join us in the real world, you know, the one that exists outside this room? Then I'll give you the privacy you need to square things with Willow." With that he slipped out the door and hurried down to his little pixie.

She was sitting on a kitchen chair with her legs pulled up under her, hands wrapped tightly around a coffee mug looking for all the world like she was trying to soak as much of the eat into her hands as possible. Beautiful, just wondrous. She was wearing a dark green fuzzy robe and he was willing to bet nothing under it. Her hair was pulled back in a loose bun and a few tendrils had escaped to fall gently on the nape of her neck and her forehead. How she always managed to look like she belonged on the cover of a magazine he'd never know. She was the eighth wonder, or at least she always managed to keep him intrigued.

He couldn't stop himself from running his hands down her body, but he was a little hungry himself, so he just settled for rubbing her arms and leaning down to kiss her neck enjoying the slight tickle from the hairs curling there. She turned her head and caught his lips in a kiss, chaste by their standards, but still enough to have him contemplating the counters again.

"Hey baby, how's Angel tonight?" Same question as always, he knew she wanted to talk to him and he hoped the idiot would come to his senses and join them shortly, but no need to give her false hope.

"Same, least he ate though, without much prodding either, so better maybe? Not really sure, missed you."

He laid a another kiss on the top of her head before going to fix his own meal. Needed to build his energy back up if he was going to………enjoy her on the various surfaces in the kitchen.

"You were gone ten minutes, Spike." Her tone was playful, so he gave her his patented pout accompanied by his famous puppy dog eyes and hid his smirk at her next words. "Missed you too."

He pulled his mug out of the microwave and set about polishing it off.

"Spike?"

"Hmm?"

"I've got to call Giles today." She'd been saying that for days now, but she sounded serious this time.

"Ok."

"Spike?"

"Yes, luv?"

"You need to talk to him." And there it was, the one thing he'd hoped not to see regarding this subject, the resolve face. Bugger.