Darkest Before Dawn

by Nmissi

If I ran the Buffyverse...Season five spoilers possible.

17. Father

TITLE: Darkest Before Dawn #17 "Father"

AUTHOR: Nmissi
PART:17/?
DISCLAIMER: I own Nothing and No one. Especially not Spike. If I did,
what makes you think I'd share him with you?
DISTRIBUTION: Want it? Take it. Just let me know where it's going.

Feedback: Please. Nmissi@aol.com
SUMMARY: The way the world would work if I wrote the Buffyverse.

It was much too early in the morning for the racket coming up from downstairs.

The vampire Angel, formerly Angelus, scourge of Europe, turned over in his bed and put his pillow across his face. Somewhere in his sleep sodden brain he'd made the connection- the voice downstairs was Familiar, and very drunk; and therefore not threatening. So he tried to muffle the off-key rendition of ""One hundred bottles of beer on the wall" coming up the steps. Unfortunately it kept getting closer. Even more unfortunately, it seemed to have lost count and started over.

He sat up in his bed as his

foe, friend

Childe, stepped into the bedroom.

" What is it, 'Spike"? Surely you've a good reason to be in my home, drunk and disorderly at,"

He checked his wristwatch.

" –the unholy hour of ten a.m."

The blonde moved unsteadily, unevenly, upon what appeared to be bare feet. His hand clutched a very large bottle of some very bad vodka. He was dressed, if you could call it that, in black jeans and the ubiquitous duster, under which was worn a red shirt. It was buttoned up all wrong.

He staggered from the doorway over to the bed, and from this vantage point Angel could see he'd been fighting. His lip split, blood caked at the corner of it. And worse yet, it looked like he might have been crying.

Spike collapsed beside the bed, upon the floor, and Angel struggled with his instincts. The urge to soothe warred with the urge to beat and berate him. Angelus had never been one to comfort his kindred, and he had loathed William's human emotions as a weakness.

He got up, and pulled some sweats out of a dresser drawer, tugging them on. Then he walked around the bed and stepped over the prone form, snatching the bottle out of Spike's hand. Raising it to his face, he peered at its label.

"Popov, William? How the mighty have fallen."

The lump on the floor began to shake slightly with mirth.

"You don't know the half of it, mate."

Angel seized him roughly by the back of the neck, dragging him up off of his face.

"Why don't you explain it to me, then?"

Then he caught Spike's scent. It baffled him.

Spike smelled wrong.

It was subtle. Had there been other humans in the room, he might never have noticed, but amid the tangy scent of his immortal blood, there was something new. Or rather, something old. Surprisingly, he remembered it from William's clothes.

There was the smell of mortal skin, mortal sweat. The distinct smell of a living, breathing, human male.

And the neck in his fierce grip was warm.

Spike struggled not to vomit as he was thrown backwards, his head banging into the leg of the bed. The nausea was intense, and the pain to his skull exacerbated it.

Angel's voice shook slightly with fear.

"What the fuck IS this?"

"I don't know, Sire. But I was sort of hoping you'd make it go away."

"Hi there. Nice to see you with your eyes open."

Dawn was blinking sleepily, the drugs in her system still keeping her drowsy.

"Hi yourself."

Buffy pulled the chair up closer to the bedside, and reached for the small hand of her sister.

"You had us all worried, really worried, You know that?"

"I'm sorry. I thought I might be back before Dad or anybody else noticed."

Buffy sighed.

"Don't you realize what a dangerous place L.A. is? My god, Dawn…What were you thinking?"

She squeezed Dawn's hand firmly, and continued.

"maybe, because you've survived Vampires and Hellgods, you think you're safer or something. But you're not. Being the key, being my sister, being really lucky- None of it makes you bulletproof. "

Dawn's eyes grew wide.

"Is that what happened?"

Buffy nodded.

"You were with Angel at Caritas, do you remember?"

Dawn nodded yes.

"Well, some people came in with guns and crossbows, and started shooting. You took two bullets, both in your back. One did a little soft tissue damage, nothing major. The other one hit your spine and lodged there. The doctors did several surgeries to remove it, and to repair the damage it left behind."

"How much damage?"

Buffy lowered her head.

"We don't know yet. The doctors are concerned about your loss of feeling, but they think some of it is attributable to swelling and that could get better with some time."

Dawn realized then, that she couldn't move her legs. She tried, but nothing happened. And as her sister watched, tears began to roll down her face.

"Oh, baby. I'm sorry."

Buffy reached over and hugged her, stroking the dark silk of her long hair.

"It'll be okay. Really, it will be Okay."

Behind her she heard a familiar voice, coming from the nurse's station across the hall. Buffy stood up and met Giles at the door, with a bear hug.

"Well, that's a warmer greeting than I've come to expect."

He hugged her tightly, and Buffy felt safe again for a moment. It was a fragile, false feeling, but she clung to it nonetheless. Logically, she knew she was better equipped to protect Dawn than Giles was. Emotionally, she couldn't help feeling everything would be better, now that he was here.

His embraced loosened, and he stepped back slightly to better see her face. Then he took her arm and they walked over to the patient.

"Hello, Dawn."

His kindly face smiled down at her, with just a hint of disapproval forming in the set of his brows.

"Hiya Mr. Giles."

"You've had yourself quite an adventure, I see."

Dawn adopted a shamed, hangdog expression, which dampened her mentor's anger. Buffy knew the expression for what it was, rolled her eyes heavenward. Dawn was playing him again.

"You've very pretty flowers, in here," he remarked, taking in the arrangements.

She pointed.

"The big one is from Angel and his gang. It had a box of chocolates wit h it but Buffy put it in the drawer over there. And the bear is from Spike."

"And the balloons?"

Buffy piped up.

"that's me. I figure, Candy is fattening, flowers die…Balloons seem more practical."

He smiled and nodded.

"Yes. Well. I- I have something for you, too, Dawn. Here."

He set his attaché down, and fumbled with its latches. Reaching in, he produced a plastic bag from a Sunnydale Record Shop.

He thrust the package at her as if he found it distasteful.

"Here. The man at the counter said these were just out this week, so I was fairly certain you didn't yet have them."

She pulled several cds out of the bag, and a tee shirt.

"Woa, Giles- Ricky Martin. Soul Decision. OmiGosh, You actually bought me a backstreet boys shirt? Cool."

He smiled at her.

"I'm relieved to see that you like them."

She reached up for him then, her long slender arms open, and he leaned in hesitantly. Dawn pulled his head down close to envelope him in a snug embrace. He relaxed into it, patting her back, and then kissed her on her forehead.

Buffy watched them. Giles plainly adored her baby sister. And Buffy loved him all the more for it. She thought momentarily of her absent father, and could not help but contrast the two men. Dad was playful and affectionate, when he was interested in them. But he was also much more involved more in his own life than those of his girls. Giles was rarely playful, and visibly uncomfortable with displays of physical affection. But he was so very involved that he'd braved the humiliation of the pop section at the Record store, just to bring Dawn the perfect gift.

She shook herself out of the reverie, and addressed the Watcher.

"Where's Ben? Didn't he take the flight out with you?"

Giles turned to her.

"He'll be coming from the hotel. He went ahead with our suitcases; I took a cab straight here from the airport."

Of course. Giles would do that, he'd want to be here as quickly as possible.

Buffy walked up beside him, and surprised him with another hug.

'He really is the most Wonderful Man.', she thought.

Maybe he needed reminding.

"Just in case you haven't heard it in awhile…I love you," said Buffy.

"Yeah. Me too," Dawn piped up. She reached a hand out to him, and he took it.

Buffy reached over to rumple her sister's hair.

"And I love you, 'Me too'," she said.

Giles stood between them silently, his heart so full he lacked words. He didn't verbalize his affections, as they had. But he didn't need to. His girls knew how well they were loved.

Angel was sitting on the edge of the bed, now, watching him as he smoked his cigarette and tried to explain.

"I don't know, Angel. I don't know what happened. Buffy told me to look up, and there It was- In the bleedin' mirror on the sodding ceiling. And she was all crying and laughing and shit, and I was just in shock. So I go look at m'self, right? Wanting to see it better, see up close. And she points out that my damn heart is beating."

He raked his cigarette hand through his hair, lucky not to have ignited himself.

Angel's tone was gentle, as he prodded.

" Spike, you're not telling me what HAPPENED."

"I told you, mate! I looked up and There It was!"

He shook his head. Spike the human was no less irritating than Spike the vampire.

"No, I mean, when did you feel the change, what happened right before it-"

Spike laughed at him.

"What change? I didn't feel any change. I just noticed that all of a sudden, today I've got a reflection and a heartbeat-"

"Well, what about the heartbeat? Didn't you notice when it started?"

The blonde shook his head vigorously.

"No. No, I didn't. I didn't notice it til she pointed it out to me."

Angel was perplexed. He didn't understand how this had occurred, or why.

"I mean, I know I had that chip for a year and a half. Worst months of my life, that. Couldn't hunt or kill. But it's been out for weeks, now. And when that Glory thing-"

He shuddered at the memory.

"-when she had me open on her bed, I can tell you one thing, that heart was NOT beating then. She pointed it out to me; that it wasn't."

"What are you talking about, Spike? When did Glory have you?"

Angel remembered the name from Dawn's ramblings. So, the HellGoddess had Spike at some point…

"When she tried to pull my heart out! Well, okay, I sorta went to her to pretend like I was gonna sell-out the Nibblet. But I had this plan, see, to get her off Buffy's back. Only, she decided to torture the information out of me. Stupid bint- I'd come to give her that information, willingly. Okay, it was all a setup, but still. So she tortured me for a while, and I figured out pretty fast that the only thing keeping me alive was my silence. So I shut up tight and let this nutty bitch carve on me for a day or so. "

He was tracing his hands unconsciously over the heart scar as he spoke. Angel knew the signs, knew posttraumatic stress disorder when he saw it. He'd been responsible for it on numerous occasions. He wisely directed the discourse away from Spike's capture.

"Okay. But Buffy rescued you, right? Then what happened."

His child looked up at him in despair.

"Nothing. What do you want me to say? I played pool. I drove the car. I watched the telly. …I just went home and lived my unlife. Minded my own business, I did."

His child was hiding something.

"What else, Spike? What aren't you telling me?"

"Sod it all. It was a mistake to come here."

He pulled himself up off the floor, and Angel seized his wrist in his hand.

"Wait. Don't leave."

He really, really didn't mean to sound that pathetic. Honest he didn't. But he wanted to understand what had happened to Spike, wanted to help him deal with this change.

But mostly, he just didn't want him to leave.

It had been so long since Spike had needed him for anything. It was nice to be needed. And it was nice to be able to appreciate it. Angelus had never appreciated his children, their companionship, their love. Only as Angel did he learn to value what he'd already lost. It wasn't quite fair.

"What? You'll just keep asking the same questions. And I'll keep giving the same answers. I don't KNOW what happened."

Angel nodded, and released his arm. Spike sat down alongside him.

"I don't know what happened. But Listen, I'm fairly sure we can Undo it."

Spike's voice was desperate, even as he tried his best to sound reasonable.

"You just have to turn me again. Dru isn't here to do it this time, it'll have to be you."

His eyes pleaded with Angel, pleaded for the gift he'd lost.

But Angel shook his head at him.

"No, Spike. No, I can't. It would be a mistake."

His boy was Livid.

"What d' you mean, it would be a mistake? Isn't this a mistake? I was a VAMPIRE, Angelus! For a century I was a force to be reckoned with, a thing that stalked the night leaving terror in my midst. Now I'm supposed to just, I don't know, Go be a human? Think, Angelus, think. I possess exactly two skills- the ability to fight and the ability to kill. I'm not quite cut out to live like one of the herd."

Angelus could still smell His Own Blood flowing through those newly human veins. How could this be? It led him to another question.

"Spike, when did you last feed?"

Spike looked away from him.

"I don't know."

"what do you mean, ' I don't know'? Vampires remember when they EAT, Spike. When, what, did you eat?"

"It's been a few days…"

Spike was visibly disturbed by this line of conversation. But Angel waited. He'd have the whole story out of him eventually. Hopefully he wouldn't have to beat it out of him, was all he hoped.

" It was a container of Sodding Cow's Blood, alright? Spike the Evil Vampire has been Vegetarian for some time now, Peaches. Happy?"

Angel saw the shame in him, and his suspicions grew.

"So. You haven't been feeding. How about killing?"

Again Spike wouldn't meet his eyes.
"No."

"Not since the "chip" came out."

His flat statement was a question.

"No," came the reply.

Angel was formulating a theory. Spike had been becoming "Human" for some time. He'd slowly lost his desire for blood, his urge to kill. And now, his heart was beating-

"How did the sunlight affect you?"

Spike shrugged.

"Didn't hurt. Tingled a little at first, but then nothing."

If Spike still had the chip, he'd think he had his answer. But it was out before the change.

"Spike, listen to me. Tell me about anything mystical you've encountered recently. I don't know, maybe a spell, maybe a curse-"

"I didn't eat a bad gypsy, if that's what you're getting at. I've been shagging myself silly, and it hasn't done a damn thing. And I don't suddenly feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, either."

Angel ignored the ugly undercurrent of attack in Spike's words. He pushed on.

"You don't feel any different, then. You don't feel the weight of your soul?"

Spike looked at him squarely.

"What Soul?"

Angel sighed. None of this made sense.

"How do you feel about the murders you've done, Spike?"

"How do you want me to feel? You think I should be all overwrought, and go eat rats and be you?"

Angel stayed calm.

"No, Spike. I just want to know how you feel about them."

"Angel, I want my unlife back. Obviously I'm not too broken up about it."

His Grandsire stood, letting out a sigh. He definitely felt the weight of his own soul.

"I think Cordelia has coffee downstairs. I'll go get you some."

He eyed the empty Vodka bottle.

"You probably could use it."

"I don't want any coffee. I came here for one thing- to get my life back."

"I won't do it, Spike."

"What is it? You feel the need to see me humbled? Fine. You don't have to leave me mortal to see me grovel, I'll do it right now."

And then he did something he'd not done since the first, early years of his turning.

Spike lowered himself before Angel. He dropped to his knees, on the cool floor. He cast his eyes downward. His entire body posture changed, as his defiance leaked out of him.

He was submitting to his Elder, beta to alpha, fledgling to master.

Some remnant of Angelus rose to this sight, and Angel fought his demon back down. Angelus was a conflicted creature, even among demons he'd been an oddity.

On one hand, he enjoyed seeing William subservient. On the other, that same subservience repulsed him. He never knew whether to beat the boy for his arrogance or for his timidity. And the fledgling William had been beaten for both, regularly.

That Spike would submit now, here with him, sickened him to the heart.

"Get up. Just get up, Damn it. I don't want your fake fawning. You don't respect me now, and you never did."

Angel dragged him to his feet, and Spike grabbed at his shoulders.

"Please, Angelus. If ever you loved me in the slightest, Please don't leave me like this!"

The pain in his eyes was wrenching. Part of Angel wanted to do it, to reclaim him, if only to stop the torment.

Angel took him in his arms, pulling him close.

"Maybe it's a miracle, Will. You've been given another chance."

Spike jerked himself free of his Sire's embrace.

"S'not MY miracle, you imbecile. It's Yours. Did you even think about that, Peaches? I got your girl, Maybe I got your prophecy to go with her."

He said it like it was a disease, this humanity. And Angel thought for a moment. What if he was right? What if the prophecy were wrong, and it wasn't him, wasn't Angel who would get to be mortal?

His stomach sank.

"You refuse me aid, then, do you?"

Spike's tone was surprisingly formal, his words clearer than they'd been much of the morning.

" I will not turn you, Spike. I can't do it."

"Fuck you then."

Spike's punch caught him off guard, and he went flying back into the dresser.

He came up with his fists out, swinging, as Spike lunged at him again.

Angel drew first blood; as Spike's split lip reopened under his hand. But the boy was resourceful; and apparently still quite strong. Angel was faster, but not by much. Spike took his blows manfully, and paid them back in kind.

Some time later, amid blood and broken furniture, the blonde looked up from beneath his grandsire's arm. They'd fought to a standstill, and now lay together in a bloody heap.

"You really won't do it?"

Angel shook his head sadly, and Spike's voice was soft.

"Why?"

Angel caressed the bloody forehead, smoothing back the damp hair.

"Because I love you. And you've been given this wonderful gift. But you're like a little kid, who got the wrong thing for Christmas. You don't see how wonderful it is, because it's not what you asked for."

He looked at him meaningfully.

"But I would be cruel to take it from you."