Title: Sympathy For The Devil

Authoress: Sakuri

Rating: M

Summary: Spander slash. Slight AU. In a Sunnydale without Buffy, Spike is being held captive by the Initiative. When a newly de-souled Angelus arrives in town, he may be the only one with knowledge enough to help stop him. Enter Xander, new Initiative recruit, and the only person able to hold the vampire's interest for more than five minutes.

Disclaimer: I own nothing and no one

Chapter Eleven: Reunion.

xxx

Angelus was upstairs when the front door almost swung off its hinges, the resounding slam as it bounced off the wall travelling through the mansion and making the vampire wince. He moved towards the stairs, corners of his mouth already lifting in a triumphant smile because no one but Spike walked into a place like that, and sure enough as he descended into the foyer, there was his childe – childer, if he counted the fledgling Finn, which he didn't – clad in some ridiculous army uniform and spinning a circle in the middle of the carpet, taking in these new surroundings. Angelus, never overly sentimental, nevertheless felt something stir at the heart of him. If he'd had breath, it would have hitched.

Spike. My William.

How long since he'd laid eyes on his youngest? As Angel, he'd fled his family and avoided them for at least the best part of a century, avoided thinking about them, even. But now, right in front of him, Spike. Tattered and battered and too thin, but – Spike. His angular face was tilting this way and that, registering approval as he took in the high ceilings and airy rooms that the minions had cleaned up, amusement at the extravagant, gothic furniture decorating the place, mild surprise as he finally turned enough to spot Angelus standing at the bottom of the stairs.

They stared. Took the measure of one another. Noted the differences. Nodded.

"Nice digs," Spike commented after a moment or two, his manufactured cockney accent making the other blink and then grin.

"Yeah," Angelus agreed quietly. Shrugged. "Got a warlock to cast a concealment spell, make sure those soldier boys of yours don't stumble across the place."

Bark of laughter. "Knew you'd have something like that up your sleeve. Told 'em they were wasting their time."

"Yeah."

He thought Spike was the one to move first, but by the time they collided in the middle, the embrace was mutual. Angelus let out an oof as Spike's arms nearly broke his ribs and hands scrabbled at the back of his shirt for purchase, clinging like he hadn't believed the older vampire was real until that moment. Maybe he hadn't. Angelus gave as good as he got, growling as he felt how truly breakable his childe was right then, growling as he smelled the last of the drugs still lingering in his system. Positively crushing him close, because even if he himself had hurt Spike in the past, he'd never done this. Never made him tremble minutely as he held on to his sire like a lifeline, head tucked under Angelus's chin like a kid in need of comfort.

It was wrong. It shouldn't be possible. This was Spike! Spike, who was supposed to burst in here demanding to know what had taken so long and where was dinner. That was the script. Not... this. It made him wonder what the humans had done to make him admit the weakness.

"Did you kill them?" he asked gruffly when he thought his voice wouldn't shake with the anger.

"No," Spike said without moving or letting go. "Didn't wanna risk them stopping us."

"You should have killed them."

"Wanted to."

They contemplated this in silence for a while, until at last Angelus gathered himself enough to take Spike by the shoulders and push him away to study at arm's length. He looked nervous, like he expected to be mocked for the show of neediness, and had that insolent set of his jaw that said he'd fight back if that was the case. Good. Least the spirit hadn't been entirely kicked out of him.

"Go clean up," was all Angelus said, grimacing at the tangled, bloodstained, half-dyed curls that fell around his childe's face. "Bathroom's on the left. Take a shower. There's fresh clothes ready."

The corner of Spike's mouth curled and he shook his head wryly. "Priss. Little dirt never hurt anyone."

"You smell of human."

No, I smell of Xander, Spike thought to himself, but didn't voice. Shrugging consent, he moved towards the stairs and started heading up. A thought occurred to him. He turned and cast a look past Angelus, to where Finn stood exactly where he'd been left, unmoving. "What are you gonna do with commando-vamp over there?"

Angelus glanced at him. "Turn him loose?"

Like a dog you don't want anymore, Spike thought, oddly relieved. Git might be Angelus's childe – closer relation than mine, that is – but he's not family. Good. Don't like him.

Even so, he shook his head. "Keep him around a bit, yeah? Got plans he might be useful for." They both watched as this information slid over the youngest vampire like water off a duck's back, not causing so much as a ripple in his blank expression. "What's wrong with him, anyway? He doesn't... do anything. Was like this all the way over. Get better conversation out of a sodding wall."

Angelus shrugged, not looking overly concerned. "Trained to kill us, wasn't he? Maybe he's having an identity crisis. Could be fun..."

The blonde rolled his eyes and went to get his shower, leaving the other to indulge his whims tormenting the unfortunate fledge.

xxx

Later that night, Angelus surveyed his living room and remembered exactly how annoying Spike could be.

It was trashed. Every surface, including most of the floor, was taken up with rubbish. Pizza boxes, half full Chinese food cartons, soda cans, beer bottles, chocolate wrappers, sweet foils – the list was endless. He wondered incredulously how and where Spike had acquired it all, especially at this time of night, and in so short a time. A television Angelus had never watched was currently blasting out soap opera vapidity which clearly entranced the blond vampire, throned in the middle of his mess in Angelus's favourite chair, slouched sideways with one leg thrown over the arm.

"God I've missed this," Spike muttered without looking up, mouth full of fortune cookie and new T-shirt speckled with the crumbs.

Slob, the older vampire wanted to snap. Layabout.

"Where'd you get all this?" he asked instead.

Spike shrugged. "Ordered in, didn't I? You should try the mu shu, by the way, 'fore it gets cold."

Angelus ignored the offer. "You ordered in? As in, had a human deliver it?"

"Yeah, so?"

"Where is he?"

The blonde was looking thoroughly perplexed and more than a little annoyed as the conversation was beginning to distract him from TV. "How should I know? Back at the take-out place, I'd assume..."

"You let him go?"

Spike scowled. "Course I did. You don't eat the pizza guy, mate. S'common courtesy."

"Spike!"

"What? It's true!"

Angelus closed his eyes in exasperation. He's always been like this. What was I expecting? Take more than a little scare to shake it out of him.

"I just thought that after being captured and tortured by humans you might want to stop acting like one."

Blue eyes flew towards him, scandalised. "Oy! I do not act like a bloody human!"

A pointed glance was cast at the beer bottle in the other's hand, the food spilled down his front and scattered around him. Finally landed scathingly on the television, which was still spouting drivel about a boy named Timmy.

Maybe if he had been human, Spike would have blushed right about then. As it was, he shifted self-consciously in his chair. "Modern day luxuries, innit? They're there, may as well take advantage..."

"Tell yourself that, boy."

"Wouldn't expect you to understand," Spike snapped back, tossing down the rest of his beer in a childish show of pique. "You've been out of it, haven't you? Wouldn't be surprised if the last luxury you remembered was the invention of fire..."

Angelus snarled, while some distant corner of his brain marvelled at the ease with which Spike – and only Spike – could provoke him.

They fell silent, then. Spike pretended to watch his programme. Angelus waded through the junk to go stand by the lit fireplace, soaking up the heat. It lasted maybe ten minutes, their mutual sulking.

Finally Spike broke the tension. "So what have you been doing since you left us?"

"I didn't leave you. He did."

"Same difference, mate."

Angelus stared into the flames some more, seething. He could hear the resentment in his childe's voice, the abandonment that Spike would deny upon pain of death, and he in turn resented that. It wasn't me that left them! It was Angel.

"I haven't been doing anything," he answered at last, each word snipped short with loathing for his alter ego. Nothing but scrounging in alleys and pining after blond chits who should know better.

"Dru had a coupla funny turns," Spike informed him in the background. "Took care of her, though. Fixed her up. Dunno bout Darla. She left us, too, after you disappeared. Bagged myself another Slayer. Good times."

Angelus cast a glance over his shoulder, noting the wordless request for approval in the tense set of Spike's shoulders and the way he couldn't look away from the TV.

"I heard," he admitted after a while, because he had, through Angel. "You made a name for yourself, William."

"Damn right."

The tension fluctuated noticeably, from hostile to melancholy in an instant. Spike used the remote to turn the volume down. Angelus idly passed his hand above the flames.

"So how'd you get back?" the blonde asked, flicking a glance up and down his sire. "To the old you, I mean."

The older vampire smiled ironically. "Bagged my own Slayer, as it happens. Bedded her, even."

One scarred eyebrow shot up so high it threatened to retreat into hairline. "You shagged a Slayer?"

Angelus laughed, glad he could still inspire that expression of astonishment and grudging respect. "Hell of a lay. Turns out the gypsy curse came with a true happiness clause. Quite literally sold my soul for one good fuck."

"And – what? She just let you?"

Angelus frowned, an expression somewhere between confusion and scorn flashing across his features. "She... loved me."

"She loved Angel, you mean."

Golden eyes pinned him, wavered, returned to the fire. "Yeah. Angel."

Spike stared hard at his sire's back, and out of nowhere came the thought, He wants her to love him. God knows why.

"You kill her?" he inquired, voice pitched as if he didn't care. He didn't, really. Not on principle. But now he was curious.

"No," came the answer he'd expected. "Not yet, anyway."

"Always did take your bloody time. Beer?"

Angelus blinked at him, took a moment to follow the abrupt topic change, then studied the bottle in his outstretched hand like it was something offensive. After a moment he sighed, rolled his eyes, and took it. "This stuff isn't as good as it used to be," he commented, dropping down onto the nearby couch.

"American shit. I'll get us the imported stuff tomorrow night. Might even pick you up a curry, see if we can't get you used to these modern day luxuries..."

Angelus snorted at the other's wheedling tone, but shook his head. "Don't bother. Want to be gone from here soon as possible. Try and find the girls –"

"No."

Angelus turned to regard his childe in surprise, only to find Spike sitting forward in his chair, back rigid and hands clenched and eyes aglow with the demon in him. He raised a questioning eyebrow. "No?"

"No. We are not leaving. Not yet."

"And why's that?"

Spike growled and let his face fully shift to its true form. "Because that... place is still standing. Because that bitch of a woman and her wanker doctors are still breathing. I want them dead, Angelus."

"Then you should have killed them when you had the chance. What do you expect now?"

"I want them dead," Spike repeated, like it was simple as that. He was on his feet, agitated. "I want it burned to the fucking ground!"

"Spike..."

Smaller body shook from being wound too tightly, fists clenched at his sides as he stared down at the older vampire, golden eyes burning. "Do you know what they did to me?"

Angelus blinked slowly, braced himself. "Tell me."

And Spike did. He told him every graphic detail, far more than he'd goaded Xander with back in his cell. The holy water had been the least malicious, really. The recollections flowed out of him like poison, purging a wound. He ranted and paced and shuddered and confessed, and with the release of vitriol came some small amount of relief. Done, he found himself slumped in front of the other, tired and jumpy and grateful in his bones for the security of his sire, right there before him.

At some point while he talked, Angelus had slid into game face, pushed beyond his human facade by pure outrage. Now he stared at his childe with wide, over-bright yellow eyes, privately astonished that Spike wasn't dust. He'd known better vampires who'd have succumbed to any one of the treatments just described to him. Sometimes it slipped his mind that Spike really was a Master, not just some punk kid playing at being the Big Bad. He wondered if he'd ever forget again, after hearing what he'd endured.

Now Spike kneeled at his feet, forehead resting against Angelus's knee, the fight momentarily gone from him. Angelus wound his fingers into the other's hair and clenched until he heard the other hiss in pain and gratitude. The solid point of contact grounded them both.

"I want them dead," Spike whispered for a third time. "I want that place destroyed. And I'm asking you formally."

Angelus twitched, shocked that his childe would resort to the vampiric customs he usually scorned with such a passion.

"Do this for me, Sire." He shuddered again, maybe with need or maybe fighting the pride he had to overcome to make the request. He didn't look up. "Do this for me."

Angelus's growl would have terrified most other demons right then, but only served to send a thrillthrough Spike, which intensified nicely when the older vampire hissed back, "Yes."