Angel was feeling significantly less drunk, and significantly more worried about Spike. It had been several minutes since Spike had spoken. His head was resting against the window of the car, one hand draped across the wound in his stomach in an unconscious attempt to protect it. The seat belt was cutting into his neck in a way that looked uncomfortable, but he made no effort to fix it. Angel didn't think he was asleep, exactly, he would shift slightly or moan whenever the cab took a turn. But he hadn't said anything in minutes. Angel wasn't sure what else to do for him.

The driver hit the brakes as the light in front of them turned red. Both vampires were thrown forward. Spike's eyes opened at this, and he let out an involuntary whimper. This made Angel's chest clench. He didn't like Spike, but the other vampire was normally so tough, and now he was in so much pain….

"You're fine," Angel said, partially to Spike but mostly to himself.

"Clearly," Spike said.

"This is, uh, this is no worse than that time you and I got thrown out of that bar, right? There were...there must have been twelve guys all together trying to kill us, and they...they couldn't even touch us. Well, I mean, they beat us up pretty good. Especially me. I was hurt way worse then than you are now. I mean, my face was all swollen, I had that piece of pipe sticking out of my shoulder, Dru ended up giving me stitches on that slash on my chest. I kept telling her I didn't need them, but you know how she is sometimes…."

"Dru." Spike roused a little at the sound of her name, but not in the way Angel had intended. He sounded a little panicked. The last thing he needed right now was to get all worked up over Dru.

"Yeah, I mean, Dru was definitely there," Angel said, trying to change the subject. "But was she really all that important? No. The important thing is that we took on twelve guys at once and we won. That's pretty cool, don't you think? And a lot of that was...," Angel paused and swallowed hard, "a lot of that was thanks to you."

Spike muttered something unintelligible.

"What...what was that?"

"And then we burned all their houses down," Spike whispered, voice weak and quiet.

"Yes," Angel said. He didn't particularly want to think about burning down the houses of twelve relatively innocent men, but the memory made Spike smile a little.

"One by one."

"Yeah," Angel said with a sigh. "One by one."

The lines of pain on Spike's face relaxed, ever so slightly. A little uncomfortably, Angel reached out and placed his hand on Spike's arm (this time careful to avoid Spike's many injuries).

"We're almost there," Angel said softly. "You're gonna be okay."

"I know," Spike whispered, and then the cab went over a pothole and he let out a quiet, exhausted moan.

"Just...hold on," Angel told him, unsure what else to say.

By the time the taxi driver slammed to a stop in front of the Hyperion, Spike had stopped responding to Angel, not counting occasional whimpers and groans. His skin had turned greyish, making him look even more like a walking corpse than usual.

Not that he would be walking anywhere anytime soon, Angel thought. He shook Spike, as gently as possible.

"Spike, we're here. Can you open your eyes for me?"

Spike rocked slightly, but his eyelids barely flickered. Angel winced, wishing he could go back to being happily drunk on the Metro, Spike beside him being infuriating but fine. Spike was supposed to be loud and annoying, not limp and bleeding on the seat of a taxi cab.

Angel shook himself and reached out to open the door. The taxi driver cleared his throat impatiently.

"Ahem. My fare? Plus a generous tip, I think."

"Oh. Right," Angel said, dipping into his (unfortunately empty) pockets. "Ummm…here you go."

Luckily, Spike carried plenty of cash, and he clearly wasn't tracking well enough to realize where the money had gone. Problem solved, Angel climbed out of the taxi and went to the other side to retrieve Spike.

As soon as Angel opened the door, Spike flopped out, almost falling into the street before Angel managed to catch him.

"Aww, no, come on, Spike…. You gotta at least try to walk…."

Spike didn't respond, unless Angel was willing to count silence and some blood oozing onto his hands a response. He wasn't.

"Hey, buddy, get your friend outta my cab. I got to earn a living, ya know?"

"Yes, sorry," Angel said. "We're...working on it."

Angel shook Spike gently.

"Spike, please," Angel whispered. "You need to wake up now, come on Spike, oh my god-"

Spike did not stir. Angel was starting to panic. The alcohol was still making his brain fuzzy, and now he kind of felt like he'd been standing next to the cab, struggling to get Spike out, for what seemed like hours. It was getting uncomfortable, and Angel was not sure what to do. Spike wasn't really blinking anymore, and even when Angel grabbed one of his arms and tugged on it he didn't make a sound.

"Alright," Angel said. He knew he was basically muttering to himself, and it was beginning to make him sound like a crazy person. But he couldn't help it. "I'm gonna...I'm just gonna need to pull you out of this cab. Alright."

He grabbed both Spike's arms and pulled him out onto the street. He knew it couldn't be comfortable for the other vampire, but there wasn't much that could be done.

"Thanks," Angel said, leaning his head back inside the cab.

"Just shut the door so I can leave," the driver said. He sounded annoyed. Angel supposed it was very late.

Angel slammed the door, careful not to hit Spike with it, and the cab sped off.

This left Angel in a bit of a predicament. Spike was still lying on the ground, completely limp, not seeming to realize that he'd been discharged from the cab. Angel wanted to haul him to his feet and then support him the same way Spike had supported Angel earlier in the night. But Angel simply didn't think this would be possible in Spike's current condition. No matter how much of Spike's weight Angel was taking, Spike was completely unconscious, and wasn't going to be able to walk.

Angel groaned. There was only one way he could think of to do this, and neither of them were going to like it.

Angel knelt next to Spike. He shook him one more time, just to make sure he really wasn't waking up. He wasn't. They were out of options.

Carefully, Angel slid a hand under Spike's back, trying his best to avoid putting pressure on the numerous wounds that crisscrossed his torso. Then he put his other arm under Spike's knees, and carefully lifted him.

All Angel could think as he stepped up onto the curb was that he was glad Spike was so out of it. If he had been awake enough to be aware that he was being carried by Angel, he would be mortified. And Angel would be even more horrified and traumatized than he already was.

Spike stirred and moaned a little as Angel neared the hotel. His eyelids flickered, but he didn't seem to focus on anything.

"Don't wake up now," Angel told Spike crossly. "You'll squirm, and then I'll drop you, and that'll hurt even more."

Angel half-expected Spike to come to right then and there, just to spite him. But instead, the younger vampire stopped moving in Angel's arms, his head tilting to an an unnatural looking angle.

Angel edged into the Hyperion and started up the stairs, fighting the urge to panic.

"We're almost there," he said to Spike, not looking for a response. Angel just wanted to stop thinking about the guilt that was creeping in as he looked at Spike's bone-white face streaked with his own blood. In Angel's experience, Spike spent a lot of time covered in blood, but it was usually someone else's.

Angel growled. He wasn't supposed to be worried about Spike, he wasn't supposed to be helping him, and he certainly wasn't supposed to be feeling guilty over him. He had plenty of other, more important things to feel guilty about.

His carefully cultivated feeling of righteous indignation lasted all the way up until he reached an unused room and tried to set Spike down. As he lowered the other vampire onto the blankets, Spike roused slightly and whimpered, shaking his head.

"I'm just putting you down," Angel said impatiently. "Trust me, this is what you want."

Spike curled towards Angel, tense against the pain. His less injured hand grasped weakly at Angel's shirt, and Angel sighed.

"I know it hurts," he said, trying to make his voice sound soothing. "But it'll just be a few seconds, and then you'll feel better, and I'll be right here…."

Angel was pretty sure Spike was too far gone to understand Angel's words. For one thing, if he could process that much, then he wouldn't be holding onto Angel in the first place. But the tone of his voice must have filtered through, because Spike relaxed almost imperceptibly and allowed himself to be set down.

Angel unhooked Spike's fingers from his shirt, and Spike made a disapproving sound.

"I'll be right back," Angel said. "I'm just going to get bandages, ok? I'm still here."

Spike mumbled something, sounding slightly betrayed. With no small amount of relief, Angel stood and headed off to get the bandages, wishing fervently that he was significantly drunker.

Spike didn't really know what was going on. All he knew was that everything hurt, and his head was spinning, and there had been someone with him but now they were leaving, leaving, and Spike was going to be alone. He tried to say something, but he didn't think it came out right. He wished he could open his eyes better.

Some unknown amount of time went by, and mostly what Spike was aware of was the fire in his chest, and the pounding in his head, and nothing else. He thought he might be lying on a bed, but he knew it wasn't his own. Had he gone home with Angel? How had he even gotten here? God, he wished everything hurt a little less….

Eventually, Spike heard the sound of a door opening. His eyes opened involuntarily, and it seemed to require a lot more effort to keep them open than it normally did. Everything seemed kind of blurry, but he saw a figure coming towards him, and part of him knew it was probably just Angel and there was no need to worry but part of him wanted to fight, even though he knew he couldn't….

Spike tried to push himself into a sitting position, but it was a mistake. Immediately, the world seemed to wink out. Pain pulsed through his body, and he fell back to the bed with a gasp. He wondered if he was about to black out again. He didn't want to, he hated having huge gaps of time he couldn't even account for, time spent with Angel. But at the same time, maybe sleep would be easier at this point. His head felt thick.

"Don't sit up," Angel said firmly, and Spike could do nothing but obey. He allowed his body to relax on the bed.

"Do you feel any better?"

Spike thought this was a bit of a stupid question. He wasn't sure exactly how much time had elapsed since the fight at Wolfram and Hart, he could barely remember anything past getting in the cab. But he didn't think it had been very long, and he was injured badly enough that he knew it was going to take some time for him to heal. He thought he would be feeling pretty awful for a while yet.

Spike made a noncommittal sort of mumbling sound. It wasn't an answer, exactly, but at least he could acknowledge that he had actually heard Angel.

"I...I brought bandages," Angel said. Spike didn't respond, it seemed like too much effort. "So...hopefully that will help."

Spike couldn't think of much that was worse than being bandaged by his horrible drunk grandsire. But he couldn't even sit up on his own, and he didn't think he had a lot of options. It wasn't like he could leave. He couldn't even get out of bed.

Spike heard Angel come forward a few steps, so he was right next to the bed. "This is the worst one," Angel said softly, and Spike felt him probing the deep knife wound in his chest. Spike hissed in pain.

"You need to be sitting up a little for this," Angel said. "Is it..is it okay if I help you?"

Spike closed his eyes miserably. This was the last thing he wanted, but if Angel hadn't left yet, he certainly wasn't going to now, even if Spike wanted him to. Spike managed a nod.

He felt Angel slide a hand under his back, irritating the scratches there. Spike growled, expressing his displeasure in the quickest and least painful way he could come up with.

"Sorry," Angel whispered, and moved his hand slightly. "Is that better?"

Spike nodded again, wishing for about the millionth time that he wasn't in this situation.

"Okay, this is gonna hurt. I'm sorry," Angel said, sounding like he really meant it. Spike felt Angel start to lift him, and then every muscle in his much-abused torso and back tensed and the world blurred.

Angel worked as quickly as he could, winding bandages around Spike's torso over the deep, jagged gash in his chest. Spike had blacked out as Angel lifted him up, and Angel hoped he wouldn't wake up until he had finished. Angel had been where Spike was now, and he knew firsthand that the pain would be excruciating. Dead they might be, but they still felt pain.

Spike blinked fuzzily as Angel was starting on the wounds on his back. Angel saw his jaw set in an effort to keep from crying out.

"You passed out again," Angel informed him. "We're almost done."

Spike nodded, looking like the motion was difficult. Angel winced in sympathy and taped a pad of gauze over the injured area.

"Try not to move around too much," Angel said, lowering Spike carefully back down to the bed.

Spike glared at him (or rather, at a point a little above his left shoulder). "Shouldn't be...an issue," he said, gasping with pain at the end of the phrase.

"And don't...don't try to talk for a while, okay?" Angel forced a small smile. "I know that'll be a challenge for you."

A corner of Spike's mouth twitched, in what could have been either a spasm of pain or a smile. Angel chose to believe it was the latter.

The rest of Spike's wounds were easier to reach, and less deep. Spike seemed to fade in and out a few more times while Angel was bandaging him, but when Angel finished and stepped back, Spike's eyes drifted open.

Angel surveyed the scene, the blood-streaked sheets and the blood-soaked vampire entangled in them, and sighed. He didn't feel comfortable just leaving Spike here, alone, but his alcohol-fogged mind couldn't come up with the correct thing to do in this situation.

"Do you want something for the pain?" Angel hazarded.

Spike turned his head towards Angel, giving him a very clear "what the fuck do you think?" look.

Angel nodded. "Guess I deserved that. I'll be back."

Angel left the room with Spike and wandered to the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of blood from the fridge (a bottle of his own that he was generously sharing, he might add), and a bottle of painkillers from the medicine cabinet. He then returned to Spike.

"Sit up," Angel said, and then realized that of course the other vampire couldn't, and very carefully eased him into a sitting position.

"I...I don't want that," Spike muttered when he saw that Angel was holding blood.

"You need it," Angel said. "You won't be able to heal without getting some more blood in your body."

"I'll throw it up," he muttered, looking miserable.

Part of Angel knew that Spike wouldn't actually throw up, he just felt sick. He needed the blood to heal, and he was going to have to force down at least a little. It would probably make him feel better, not worse, at least after a few minutes.

Part of Angel hoped that it would make him throw up. Angel had spent a good portion of the night puking, and at this point, it would only be fair.

"You'll be fine," Angel said. "You only need to have a little."

Spike gave him a look.

"You can't have any of these painkillers unless you drink some blood."

"Bloody fine," Spike finally said sullenly. Angel helped him drink a few sips of blood, and then gave him the small handful of pills. Angel wasn't sure they would be enough, he wasn't even sure they would work at all, but he was sure if there was a problem Spike would be very vocal about it.

By this point, Angel was really exhausted. The drunkenness was starting to fade into a shaky hangover, and Angel really did not want to be awake when it really hit. He knew he needed sleep, but he wasn't sure he could get it with Spike so injured.

"Do you...need anything else?" Angel asked.

"I need you to fuck off," Spike said. His voice was a little stronger since he had finished the blood. And if he was back to being mean to Angel, that must mean he was at least sort of back to his old self.

"I'm going to sit in this chair," Angel said, gesturing at a chair. Mostly, he wanted to be around in case Spike really did need anything, but he also simply didn't want to walk all the way back to his room at this point.

"All night?" Spike asked bitingly.

Angel chose to ignore him. "Just...let me know if you need anything else…."

Angel sank into the chair and was asleep nearly as soon as his eyes closed.

Spike opened his eyes and went to stretch. He immediately regretted it as the movement sent waves of pain radiating out from his shoulder, chest, back, and seemingly everywhere else. The pain medication had worn off, then.

Spike automatically bit back a groan and turned his head carefully to the side, hoping Angel had left the pills within easy reach. Much to his surprise, the other vampire was still slumped in the chair beside Spike's bed, snoring gently.

Spike grinned. He might be miserable, but soon enough, he wouldn't be the only one.

"Angel. Oi, Angel. Annnnnngeeeellllllllll…." Spike didn't feel like trying to move anytime soon, or he'd be bouncing things off Angel's nose by now.

Finally, Angel stirred slightly, then jolted upright. "Spike! You're awake- oh god…."

Spike smiled gleefully, ignoring the pain that came with doing anything. "Bit of a hangover? Serves you right."

Angel squinted at Spike. "You look awful."

"I've been stabbed," Spike pointed out, letting himself grimace for effect. "Your fault. An' you look bloody awful too."

Angel did look a bit peaky, but Spike was well aware that it was nothing compared to how he must look. He was almost glad that he couldn't see his own reflection.

Angel didn't respond, just got slowly to his feet and rubbed his temples a little. Spike risked a smirk.

"What were you doing here all night, anyway?" he asked, forcing himself to finish the sentence despite the pain.

"Oh...I, umm, I just fell asleep…. I guess I was pretty tired…."

"Yeah, making an idiot of yourself is hard work," Spike said, as cuttingly as he could manage.

Angel sighed. "Look, is there anything you need?"

"Pain meds," Spike said, dropping the act. He let his eyes close, but not before he caught the surprisingly guilty look on Angel's face. He heard Angel go over to the nightstand, then the rattle of the pills inside the bottle.

Angel came over to the bed and helped him sit up, and Spike was almost in too much pain to resent him for it. Almost.

Spike swallowed the pills, wincing as the movement strained the wounds on his chest and back. Angel supported him as he laid back down, then retreated to his chair, hovering awkwardly behind it.

"Okay, well, I need to - umm - get some things done-"

"Like, say, shower," Spike inserted meanly.

Disappointingly, Angel did not react. "I'll bring more blood by in a little while. I'll be around if you need me."

"Yippee," Spike said sarcastically.

Angel made it to the door and paused. "I guess I'm not gonna get paid for this, huh."

Spike very carefully locked eyes with his idiot grandsire. "Hah hah," he said, slowly and clearly. Really laughing would hurt too much.

Angel was on edge the whole time Spike was in the Hyperion, at least partially because this whole mess was admittedly his fault. Spike left about a week after his initial injury, clearly still in pain, barely able to stand. When Angel had half-heartedly pressed him to stay, Spike had said something sardonic about Angel's abilities as both a detective and a doctor and gone off to rescue Dru.

Angel hadn't gotten paid, but at least he'd gotten rid of Spike before Wes and Cordelia found out. He'd have to be content with that.

Across the room, Wes frowned. "Hmm. This envelope isn't labeled."

"Better give it here," Angel said. "If it's like the last one we got, at least I won't come out in massive boils."

Looking immensely relieved, Wes handed off the envelope. Angel opened it, somewhat warily. Inside was a check, as well as a slightly blurry photo.

"Is it safe?" Wes asked. "Good news?"

Angel looked down at the check (made out to Angel Investigations, for "getting me stabbed but not killed") and the photo, with Dru waving and Spike flipping off the camera. He smiled, putting them both in his desk. "Yeah," he answered. "Yeah, it is."