Japan – Suzuka City – Monday – 23:14

Spike walked down the corridor, carrying a bottle of Jack and trying to kill the spring in his step. It wasn't becoming of the Big Bad. But really, he couldn't help it, he had come second. Second! Angelus was first of course, he always was, but Spike couldn't help but be proud of himself. And the Fanged Four had already bagged this year's title. Even Darla couldn't put a dampener on his day. Arriving at room 666 he rolled his eyes and knocked. Angelus had always had a fondness for dramatics.

"Oi Angelus! Open the bloody door"

There was a grumbling sound from inside, and footsteps echoed before the door was wrenched open with an accompanying growl.

"Spike?"

He managed to make it both a complaint and a question, so Spike simply held up the bottle in answer.

"Come in"

The invitation was grudging, but that didn't stop Spike from heading straight in and flopping down on the bed, leaving his booted feet hanging off the edge so as not to push his luck. It wasn't that he was scared of Angelus as much as… he was scared of Angelus. Not that he'd ever admit to it.

"So Peaches, weren't too bad today wos I?"

Spike's need to seek validation was pathetic and he knew it. Didn't mean that he didn't do it anyway.

"That overtake was a stupid risk Spike, one you didn't need to take. You think you were going to prove something? You think maybe someone would pay attention to you if you could just show off? You're pathetic Spike."

Spike pushed himself up to meet Angelus' glare, knowing it was true. Didn't stop him being angry.

"What?! You think I shoulda let that bloody Summers girl have second place?"

"I don't think you should have put our season in jeopardy by taking stupid risks!"

"How was it a stupid risk?!"

"We're only guaranteed a win if you're actually in the race. That overtake almost made contact. What the hell were you thinking?!"

"Second place is mine!"

At that Angelus paused, a strange look pulling at his features. Then a slow smile spread over his face.

"You weren't going to try for first?"

"Course not, first is yours"

Spike regretted it the second that he'd said it. He had always respected Angelus' ability, his determination, and would never challenge his right to be the best. While he might have moved past the embarrassing stage where he thought the sun shone out of the poof's arse, that didn't change the way he acted on the track. It might be the truth, but Angelus didn't need to know that's how he felt.

"That so?" Angelus purred, smug grin fixed firmly on his face.

"No!" Spike backtracked "Bloody poof. Just cos you wish it was. I don't give a bloody fuck what place you come, could lose for all I care. There's no way I'd give up first place for you!"

"Is that right?"

Spike knew that at this point he had two options, he could punch that smug grin off of the soddin' poofs face, or he could leave. He growled.

"Tosser!" he hissed jumping off the bed, and with a last angry glare he left the room.

Storming down the corridor back to his own room Spike growled at anybody who came close to him. The walk was a long one, the team having realised from past experiences that having Spike and Angelus in rooms near each other or, God forbid, sharing a room meant the arguments between the brothers would result in little sleep and friction in the whole team. So now they were housed as far away from each other as was possible whilst still being in the same building. So of course Spike took the time to think about Angelus.

He was a bloody wanker, a poofy, nancy boy wanker who Spike couldn't stand to be around. He might respect Angelus as a driver, might work with him for the sake of the team, but that didn't change the fact that he hated him a little more every time he had to speak to him. Course, not like he'd get any sympathy for having to put up with the oaf, he was Darla's darling boy, the team's star driver. Spike was left alone to hate him and Angelus knew it, using it against him at every opportunity. Bloody entitled bastard.

Groaning, Spike stopped just outside his door, realising he'd left his bottle of Jack with Angelus. It took less than a second to decide that it wasn't worth going back for. He didn't think he could deal with another argument tonight. Even if it meant he had to give up on the idea of getting blind drunk and forgetting about the world.

It wasn't until hours later, lying sleepless on his bed, that Spike admitted to himself that he didn't hate his brother at all. He never had been able to. Angelus could push and push but Spike would never push back, not really. He might argue and curse but he never really retaliated. He wouldn't hurt his brother, not the way Angelus hurt him. It was only then that he could admit to himself that leaving the bottle might not have been an accident at all. Cursing, Spike rolled over and tried to sleep.