Chapter Four
Shadows, Curtains, Dust

Spike spun around to take in the surroundings, noticing a black marble, bat shaped valance marking the threshold into the kitchen. He pointed up toward the buttress in question.

"A bat valance, really?" He asked skeptically.

Buffy turned to inspect the decoration as well, frowning, "I didn't think that was really true about vamps."

"It's a misnomer, but they look cool," the tall man shrugged.

Spike snickered as he left the tacky décor alone and wandered around the room,

"Whatever floats your boat, fancy pants."

Spike's determined departure from Casa de Slayer hadn't been as blustering as he would have hoped. He returned only to get an earful from Andrew of all people, at the foolishness of him running away. After a half-hearted attempt to scare the young man, it was Xander and Willow's turn to yell at him. He felt annoyed with the one-eyed whelp and embarrassed by Willow's sudden scolding. Though he knew better than to try and scare her.

He still hadn't even talked to Buffy, the one person his argument to leave actually concerned. Giles devoted a cornered moment of time to inflict a modicum of wisdom and parental compassion that he was so known for; agreeing to Spike's adamant claim that Buffy should be the final say in whether or not he left.

But it was the conspicuous appearance of Dawn that broke Spike's reserve. Seeing the young girl enter the room, Buffy close behind; both bleary-eyed. But while Buffy's face was one of concern, Dawn's was angry.

She laid into him for scaring them and her. When Spike attempted a rebuttal, refusing to believe any of them would seriously fear for his well-being; the young girl slapped him.

The smack was Buffy's cue to dismiss her concerned if not unorthodox family of friends from her bedroom, effectively leaving her and the vampire to settle their latest transgression alone.

A heartfelt talk it was not. But after much suppressed back-talk and defensiveness; they came to a strange compromise. Spike did need to leave, for awhile. But Buffy wanted to go with him. And she knew exactly where to go.

"So, what brings you to my neck of the woods?" Angel sighed, passing them both to raid the fridge for refreshments.

"Funny you bring that up…" Spike started, still distracted by the miscellany of Angel's abode.

"Spike's sick," Buffy said abruptly. The worry in her voice caused Angel to pause as Spike groaned at her bluntness.

"Love—"

"Tell me something I don't know," Angel muttered bitterly.

"Hey," the blond vamp snarled before Buffy placed a calming hand to his shoulder.

"I'm serious, Angel," She spoke again, stepping up beside him.

Angel shot an unimpressed glance toward Spike before turning back to her, "So was I."

"What?" Buffy was confused.

Angel sighed and retreated into a small study off of the living room before returning with a folder in his hands.

"Someone's been keeping tabs on you," he announced, waving the folder in the air to indicate its contents.

"What?" Spike spat, reaching for the file before Angel pulled it away and handed it to Buffy instead. Spike rolled his eyes and stepped behind Buffy to read along over her shoulder.

"Can't sleep during the day, sense of smell's been hindered, am I right?" Angel rattled off, returning to his task of serving drinks for him and his guests.

"Have you been stalking me you bloody poof?" Spike growled, looking up at his grandsire.

"It's not me, Spike. I don't know who's been following you but I've been receiving information about your growing condition for months now," Angel explained, crossing over to the coffee table in the main room with two mugs of blood and a cup of coffee for Buffy.

"And you didn't tell me?" Buffy glared at the older vampire, ignoring his proffered mug.

Angel shrugged and set the mugs on the table, "Figured you come to me eventually," his cavalier tone softened into hurt, "Besides, you seem to be getting along fine without me."

Spike started to smirk as Buffy glanced awkwardly between the two men. "I've been busy," she stammered, suddenly finding great interest inside the mug of coffee.

Angel merely nodded, taking a sip from his own mug. He watched the pair carefully, sitting close to one another on the sofa across from him. Spike was naturally more relaxed, despite the faint whiff of fear he felt; as far as Angel could sense. He was concerned about his growing condition as well, though he'd never admit that out loud.

Buffy was sitting up straighter; her smaller frame causing her to sit at the edge of the sofa and still reach the table comfortably. Angel sighed inwardly as he noticed Spike's left arm draped lazily over the back of the couch, his fingers absently playing with the ends of the woman's blonde locks. Buffy didn't notice; or if she did, didn't seem to mind. She continued reading through the file and sipped her coffee.

Angel was just about to return his finished mug to the kitchen when Spike caught his attention once more. While the younger vamp's left arm had been his focus before, the actions of his right were now what he found interesting. Though Spike had taken up the mug of blood Angel had offered, he hadn't drank any of it.

"Not hungry?" Angel blurted out, staring intently at the blonde vampire.

Spike's eyes shot up to the darker man, his lips pursing indignantly. Had Buffy been watching, she might have notice the silent exchange of glares between the two. Angel knew something Spike either didn't know or wasn't going to admit.

"It got cold," Spike said finally with a snort, setting the mug back down on the table. "And Goldilocks usually makes it to order for me," he finished with a smirk as Buffy raised her head at the sound of his nickname.

"Huh?" She asked distractedly, looking between the two men.

Angel snickered. Spike was slick. His reminder of how companionable and domestic he and Buffy were together now almost distracted Angel completely, but not quite.

"Oh, I'm sorry, Spike," Angel said sweetly, "I'll just make you a new cup then. Just the way you like it."

"No!" Spike blurted out.

Spike stood as Angel did, effectively stopping the older vamp in his tracks. The two stared each other down menacingly. Buffy was watching now, confused and a little annoyed at the never-ending pissing contest.

"Should I get a ruler?" She snorted with a roll of her eyes.

"No need, pet," Spike hissed; his challenging gaze on Angel unfaltering.

"Yeah," Angel agreed; his own stare matching Spike's, "We're fine, Buffy," his growl dissolving back into a more conversational tone as he finally broke away and headed back to the kitchen.

"How long have you known about this?" Buffy clarified, still seated on her perch at the sofa's edge. Spike sank back down and hovered over her to read the paper in her lap.

"What's Peaches' report say?" He mumbled, scanning the page.

"Since Spike was brought back," Angel reminded her, suddenly appearing over the pair.

Buffy lifted her head and stared back at Angel, Spike still looking into her lap at the file.

"You think it's connected somehow," she said as more of a statement than a question.

Angel nodded as Spike finally looked up, "And you don't know who sent all this info to you?" Spike asked as Angel took a seat once more.

"Nope," he shook his head. "But at Wolfram and Hart, it could be anybody."

"Or anything," Spike countered with disgust.

"Why would someone keep track of Spike like this?" Buffy wondered out loud, "And why would they send all of this to you?"

Angel shrugged, "I'm the only family he's got left," Angel supposed, "I'm the CEO, I'm a vampire with a soul too….who knows…"

"You're both connected to me," Buffy added softly.

Spike's eyes shot to Angel as Buffy's words landed. Angel diverted the other man's gaze and gave Buffy a sad smile, "I thought about that too."

***

This was a bad idea. The entire trip had been a bad idea. Buffy thought it would help; seeing Angel again, getting answers on a mysterious something that had been plaguing Spike for weeks now…but it wasn't helping. It was a bad idea.

No amount of time, be it together or apart; could seem to assuage the petty rivalry between the two master vampires. The calculated glares, the sneers of Spike, the perfected creased brow of Angel…they were doctoral students in the art of schoolboy tantrums.

And yet; when Angel suggested they spend the night, he'd offered them the spare bedroom upstairs; together. Alone.

"I know I've probably done a lot of questionably unslayerish things in my history but, I don't think I should be sleeping in this bed," Buffy grimaced as she regarded the object in question.

The same marble bat that graced the kitchen's threshold was now anchored to the high and low bed frame endings. The king sized mattress tucked snugly within the solid structure; signature red velvet sheets and duvet draped over.

"Well, I'm right there with you, pet. The bat motif's bloody idiotic. Why doesn't Forehead sleep up here? The fly by night creature ornaments aside, this room's soddin' huge."

That much was true. As they'd seen earlier, Angel slept in a cell-like room downstairs off of the kitchen. A low overhead square with no windows (naturally), and a half wall that divided the bedroom portion from a makeshift bathroom.

The upstairs room was clearly the master bedroom. King size bed aside; the square inch measurements dwarfed Angel's, and included a high credenza, an open entrance to a full, luxurious bathroom and grand French doors that led outside.

Buffy's eyes widened as realization hit. "I think that's why," she said as her eyes settled on the mullion-stricken portal. "But that's a problem."

Spike turned to regard what Buffy was referring to. He scowled in contempt as he noticed the expansive doorway was not fitted with the same treatment as the downstairs doors had been.

"Bloody bastard wants to test his theory," Spike said under his breath.

Not low enough though. Buffy shot him a confused look, "What?"

Spike gave her an awkward grin, "Nothing, love. I'll see if the oaf's got anything we can use."

"I'll check the drawers," she nodded; spinning around to do just that.

"Yeah, good idea…" Spike muttered distractedly; still staring at the expansive balcony doors in wonder before leaving to find Angel.

***

"You poncy son of a bitch!" Spike cried as he wriggled between Angel's hands and the wall. He'd gone looking for Angel to give him a piece of his mind; but ultimately to steal a makeshift curtain for the bedroom. Wandering into Angel' study had led him to the former. Though at the moment, Angel had the upper hand.

The older man gave Spike a patronizing grin, still pinning the younger one firmly against the wall by the collar; Spike's legs dangling pathetically.

"You know what's happening to you, don't you?" Angel bellowed.

"Don't know what you're talkin' bout," Spike choked out as Angel tightened his grip; Spike's hand coming up to rest on Angel's as he struggled to pry them off.

"You might be able to fool Buffy, but you can't fool me," the darker man seethed as he dropped the blond unceremoniously to the floor.

"What would you know about it, you bloody po-"

"More than you think," Angel cut in; his dangerous glare answering all of Spike's questioning one. The younger vamp cursed, brushed himself off and began pacing back and forth before him.

"Bloody hell, can I do anything without you having already done it too?"

Angel smirked and leaned against the door with his arms crossed, "Doesn't look like it."

"When?" Spike asked suddenly; stopping to face his grandsire.

"Five years ago," Angel sighed, shifting to a more comfortable stance against the wall.

"She's never said anything about it."

"She doesn't remember. I made sure…I'm the only one who would…"

Spike tilted his head curiously, "You didn't want her to?"

"Same reason you don't want to."

Spike was silent, miraculously.

Angel sighed again, loudly; releasing his defensive posture and stuffing his hands into his trouser pockets. "Spike, somehow….Buffy wants you. "

Spike scoffed and shook his head vehemently. "No she doesn't, mate." He resumed his pacing.

Angel's hands flew out of his pockets, gesticulating emphatically, "Yes, Spike. She does. But you have to believe she'll still want you even if—"

Spike stopped pacing once more, standing his ground and piking forward in despair.

"When, mate! When I….it's gonna happen. It's happening as we bloody speak! And she won't. What good am I to her this way? She doesn't find out, got it?"

"She's gonna figure it out sooner or later, Spike. "

And the blond began to pace again, a plan forming. "I'll leave before she gets the chance and then it'll be too late."

"So you'd risk breaking her heart by leaving? To do what, Spike? Risk breaking yours?"

Spike huffed and shook his head, digging into his pocket to retrieve a cigarette and his Zippo. "So, how long have I got?'

"I don't know. Don't smoke in here."

Spike ignored him and slid the stick into his mouth, "And you said you started getting' reports when I was brought back?"

"Roughly four months ago," Angel said with a roll of his eyes as Spike when to light the cigarette. "Spike?" he reminded him pointedly.

Spike feigned ignorance and smirked before Angel erased their distance in two steps and ripped the smoke from his lips.

"These things will kill you," Angel supplied as Spike gave him a dirty look, "And this time, they actually can."

Spike narrowed his gaze at the taller man, yanking the smoke away and tucking it behind his ear before sighing into the nearest chair. "Why is this happening to me?"

Angel shook his head and walked around the desk to take a seat as well. "I don't know, Spike. It's not like you deserve it."

Spike snorted, "You're bloody right, I don't."

Angel lifted his head and frowned, "I meant that as an insult."

***

Giles studied the girl for a moment before tilting his head in quiet contemplation, "Was Angel able to give you any information?"

Buffy shook her head, "Not really, other than someone's been tracking Spike since he came back," she lowered her head to focus on the hem of her sweater. Despite having assured Spike that the stolen kiss fiasco was behind her, despite assuring him that she knew his intentions were to never hurt her like he had, and despite the potentially awkward but ultimately uneventful bed sharing they'd been forced into at Angel's….

"He was being weird. They both were. I feel like I'm not being told something."

A slightly amused smile crept onto the senior watcher's face, "That may very well be. Angel is not known for his forthcoming nature."

"But Spike is," Xander bleated.

"Xander…" Buffy rolled her eyes.

Giles chewed on his glasses in consideration, "No, that's actually a good point. Spike is usually without discretion. If you feel he perhaps knows more than he's leading on about his sudden condition, there may be cause to worry."

"What could possibly be going on with him that would make him hide it from Buffy?" Willow wondered.

"He isn't losing his soul is he? Like Angel? Oh god, Buff…you didn't…" Xander whined.

"Xander!" Buffy cried helplessly as she stood, "Jesus, why do you always go back to that?"

"Sorry…"

"And he's not losing his soul," Buffy continued, now beginning to pace. "If anything he's becoming more soulful. He's been moodier and all with the pouty ever since we got back from L.A."

"Angel rubbed off on him, huh?" Xander quipped.

Buffy shot him a dirty look as Willow grimaced.

"Got to be a better way to say that…"

To Be Continued…