Chapter Twenty-One: A Real Hero

"Listen, you big poofter. If you're going to name the joint after yourself, you should at least be there to pull your weight... which is something I can attest to being no small matter. Bloody hell. If you're not careful, the rest of your body is someday going to catch up to the size of your forehead."

Somewhere in the middle of Spike's stage-worthy declaration – he was projecting his voice and waving his arms around as though he really were Billy Freaking Elliot, Angel was startled awake. It had taken hours of just sitting and watching his daughter... and Buffy... sleep for him to finally succumb to his own weariness, but, once he had, the rest had been deep and dark, completely shielding him from the otherwise intrusive noises of a hospital's day-to-day operations. If he wouldn't have been so annoyed with the other vampire's presence, he would have been irked with himself for lowering his guard enough so that he could be caught unaware. It had been so long since anyone or anything had been able to sneak up on him, and, though he couldn't have picked a worse time to allow his diligence to slip, he also wasn't surprised that the presence of Buffy and Ash were able to lull him into such a relaxed state... even with all their issues considered.

However, before he could order Spike from the room, yell at him, or even defend himself, Buffy was up and out of her chair, advancing upon the intruder. "What the hell are you doing here, and how did you get passed... well, everyone?"

"If everyone includes your witchy and wimpy sidekicks and one washed up watcher, then they've either recently become invisible or have deserted you in your time of need, Blondie. And this is Sunnydale. Contrary to what you and I both know about the crime rate in this town, security here sucks. I didn't encounter a single rent-a-piggy on my way up here to your lovely if not slightly too sterile for my tastes accommodations."

"Willow, Xander, and Giles are all at work, Spike," Angel addressed the other man's first remarks. "Speaking of which, why aren't you?"

"I could ask the same thing of you, mate."

Ignoring them, Buffy demanded, "and the doctors and nurses? Why did they let you through?"

"Why do you think," Spike asked rhetorically. "I'm a bloody creature of the night. Do you really think they could have stopped me?"

Outraged, she lunged towards him, causing Spike to take several cautious steps backwards towards the closed door. "You ate the staff?"

"Of course not. I have a soul now, you know."

"Yeah, and I'm going to be the new center for the Lakers." Hands on hips, eyes ablaze with indignation, and mouth set in a grim, harsh frown, Buffy pressed, "how did you really get up here, Spike?"

"Well, I slipped one nurse a twenty, offered another my flask, hid from anyone with a pager, and in general stuck to the shadows. You're not new to the game, sweetheart. You should know how we," with this he waved a hand back and forth between himself and Angel, "operate."

Before she could respond, though, and before Angel could, once more, try to get the other vampire to leave, their daughter stirred in the bed beside them, her small voice filling the room more than even their loudest remarks would have been able to. "Who are you?"

Spike visibly bristled, obviously insulted that even a child didn't immediately recognize him, but quickly regathered himself, straightening his shoulders and sticking his chin out in the pugnacious way that embodied all of his actions and movements. "I'm William the... bestest frienemy these two here star-crossed lovers ever had and wished they never laid eyes on. Why? Who are you?"

Rolling her eyes, Buffy said, "Spike, she's four. You do realize, right, that she has no idea what you're saying." Before he could respond, she turned to their only child. "And what William is, honey, is leaving."

"Wait a goddamned minute here." Addressing Buffy, Spike demanded, "just what the bloody hell is going on? First, the ponce here disappears without word, leaving me with both my own caseload and his. I tried to get that harpy of a seeing-secretary of his to tell me where he went and what he was up to, but all I got for my efforts was a raging case of blue balls and a hard-on the likes of which you two have never seen. The only reason I found you was because I knew the only thing that would make the poof take a break from the hapless and hopeless would be his precious slayer. So, I took the DeSoto for a spin, had a little chat with the local demon busybodies, and ended up in, of all places, Sunnydale General's intensive care unit. What possible reason could the two of you have to be sitting beside some kid? What, did you decide to take time out of your busy schedules for a little charity work, trying to make the niblet's nightmares come true, because, the last time I checked, it was called 'Make a Wish' not 'Make a Curse."

Fed up with both Spike's antics and his lack of answers, Angel snapped. "That's enough. First of all, you work for me."

"No, bloke, I work for the powers."

"No, Spike, Iwork for the powers," he contradicted the other vampire. "You're just my bleached blonde sidekick."

"Let's back this train up here, okay," Buffy requested. "You two... work together?"

"Unfortunately yes," Spike grimaced, sounding petulant.

"Look, it's like this," Angel decided to take the reins in their less than comprehensible conversation. "We already discussed The Initiative – briefly, but, after Spike was chipped, he ended up seeking me out in L.A.."

He was elbow deep in records. Taking advantage of the slow business day – no one had yet to seek out their help and Cordelia was happily ensconced in a seaweed wrap and out of his hair, Angel was attempting to make sense of his seer's files and bookkeeping... if such terms could actually be applied to the papers he was reviewing. Needless to say, he would have done just about anything for some sort of demon infestation or apocalyptic meltdown. However, not even the idea of balancing a Cordelia kept checkbook was daunting enough to make him want to speak with the creature darkening his doorstep.

"Spike, I'd say come in, but I think we both know that I'd really mean get out of my city and don't come back."

"It's always a pleasure, Peaches." Sauntering in as if

heowned Angel's hotel, Spike took a seat opposite of Angel's desk. "Whatcha doin', Poof?"

"Trying to get some work done. If you'd like to know what that word means, though – work, there's a Barnes and Noble three blocks away. Go buy a dictionary."

Ignoring the dig, the other vampire returned, "I have a word for you: competition." Although he wasn't interested in anything Spike had to say, Angel looked up anyway, knowing that, if he wanted to get rid of the pest, he'd have to humor him... at least temporarily. Once he had his attention, Spike continued. "There's a rumor out there that you're going to eventually turn into a real boy again someday."

"Listening to gossip again, William?"

The dig didn't even faze him. Shrugging, Spike admitted, "I have to stay in the loop somehow. Now that I have my soul again and all..." Confidently, he crossed one leg over the other and leaned back in his chair. "The other kiddies at the playground just don't seem to want to play with me anymore, but I'm sure you know what that's like, being souled yourself."

"You don't have a soul, Spike; you have a chip. I, too, know what's going on, and there's a big difference between having a conscience and having your brain rewired."

"I know, considering the fact that I now have both."

Annoyed with the other vampire's circuitous comments, he tossed down his pen, stood up, and leaned forward against his desk. "What the hell are you saying, Spike?"

Spike also stood. "I'm saying, mate, that you're not the only special vampire in town anymore. After those soldier pansies made me into a vampire-computer hybrid, I booked it out of old Sunnyhell. Heard there was a prophecy about a vampire with a soul who would one day regain his humanity, though that, since I couldn't be evil, I might as well go for the whole enchilada, so I went and found myself a soul. Now, here I am, ready and able to be your competition. Better get ready to lose the race, Peaches, because I'm here to stay."

His head was spinning with the information he had just heard, but a century plus of bickering was difficult to surpass, and Angel found himself falling into the same behavior patterns that he always inevitably succumbed to when anywhere near his unbelievably frustrating grandchild. "Cordelia has visions sent to her from the powers for me."

"Yeah, well, I've been panting after your sloppy seconds for decades, mate. I'm sure I'll be able to do the same thing with the lust-worthy Queen C."

"I have this business, I have the connections, and I've been working towards Shanshu for almost a year now, Spike. You can't just jump in and think that you'll beat me."

"Oh, I don't think; I know," the other vampire taunted. "Besides, you might have a head start, but you also have a few more years and about a thousand more crimes to work off than I do. As for your business and connections, the way I see it is this: you want to do good. Now, I want to do good, too. If you deny me the opportunity to help those losers that you care about so much, then you wouldn't be living up to your own standards now, would you, Poof? Basically, you're damned if you do, and damned if you don't, so what room's going to be mine?"

Drawing his recollection to a close, Angel finished, "so, Spike has been working with me for a few years now. It's not a perfect situation..."

"It's bloody awful," his blonde counterpart interrupted.

"But, at the end of the day, we help more people together than we would apart."

Taking his gaze away from Buffy, Angel risked a glance at Spike. Although he had told the truth concerning his working relationship with the other vampire, he had also kept out of his story to Buffy anything and everything having to do with Shanshu. It wasn't that he didn't want to be honest with her; he just didn't want her to know about the prophecy, both because of Ash and because, whether he wanted to admit it or not, Spike was right. He might not be the vampire with the soul that the prophecy was meant for. Besides, at the moment, they had other, more important things to worry about: their daughter.

"As for work, Spike, I'm afraid you're going to have to take over for a while. Temporarily. I'm needed here."

"Yeah, you see, that's the part I'm still confused about. Blondie got her questions answered," Spike said, crossing his arms in front of his chest in defiance. "Now, I want mine."

"Spike, this is Buffy's daughter, Ashlinn."

"Bloody hell." Despite his already pale countenance, Spike visibly paled further. "You mean, there have been two slayers in history with sucklings, and I've been involved with both of them?"

"Sucklings," Buffy questioned.

Waving her off impatiently, Spike hastily explained, "you know, babes sucking on your teat." Before Buffy could explode in justified anger, he pressed on. "That's not what's important here, though, Fluffy. Who'd you bugger to end up with a bun in the oven, and what's the poof doing here instead?"

"Spike, Ash is sick, very sick." Angel wasn't sure if Buffy had been completely honest with their daughter about her illness, but he also knew that they would not get rid of the blonde pest until his curiosity was abated. "She has something called Tay-Sachs disease."

"Yeah, I saw something about that on Oprah, I think. Terrible stuff." Offhandedly, Spike went to root for a cigarette only realizing that he couldn't smoke once he had the stick lifted and stuck in between his lips. "Oh hell," he mumbled to himself before putting it back. Refocusing his attention, he sympathized, addressing Ash, "hell of a way to go, niblet. You have my sympathies, especially if these two are the ones keeping you company in the end." Finally paying close attention to the child before him, he observed, "why, the tiny chit can't see me."

"It's a symptom, Spike," Buffy stated simply. Although her words were mild, Angel could tell that her patience had just about frayed completely. He needed to get rid of his coworker and fast.

"Look, your... concern is appreciated, I guess. Off putting," Angel admitted, shrugging, "but appreciated, but what I really need for you to do is go back to Los Angeles, help the others, and just give me time to... I'll keep you guys posted, okay?"

But Spike wasn't listening to him. His head was cocked to the side, and he had an odd, fascinated expression upon his otherwise impassive face. "I can see bits and pieces of you in your kid, Slayer, but that forehead..." Realization dawned, and Angel cringed in anticipation. "Fuck the queen!" Turning towards him, Spike accused, "you're the baby daddy, Peaches? Oh, this is rich!"

Although she had been relatively quiet during the entire debacle in her room, her attention if not focus shifting from one speaker to the next, no doubt confused by much of what had been said, Ash, somehow, knew perfectly well just what Spike had been attempting to say in his usual offbeat, insulting way. With her face, the most perfect blend of his features and Buffy's, lifted in the direction from which she last heard him speak, she quietly, shyly asked, "you're my daddy?"

And then all hell broke lose.

Buffy turned on and started yelling at Spike who, in turn, began laughing hysterically as all the pieces of their twisted puzzle fell into place for him. On his part, Angel didn't know what to do. While he wanted to confirm the answer to his daughter's question, he also didn't want to share such a special moment with the very bane of his existence present. Plus, judging Buffy's reaction to Spike's remarks, he wasn't now sure if she wanted Ash to know about him and his connection to her. Just when he was about to bodily remove the blonde vampire from the room, though, Spike found a way to dodge around the infuriated slayer attacking him verbally, skipped towards the door, and offered one last parting remark. "If anyone needs me or if you feel need to entertain again later on, I'll be at Willy's, passing out 'It's a Girl' cigars. At my age, who would have thought I'd become someone's nephew."

Silence descended upon the room as soon as Spike was gone, but, unfortunately, a calm did not follow.