Title: Neither Man Nor Monster, chapter 2
Author: Jennifer Campbell
Fandoms: Buffy: The Vampire Slayer, Angel
Spoilers: Through season 6 finales
Pairing: Spike/Buffy
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimers: Not mine. Belong to Joss.
Author's notes: This is pure speculation based on "Grave." There's no beta, so blame the typos on me. Love it or hate it, I'd love to hear your feedback. Thanks in advance.

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Previously on Buffy ...
"It is done! We have drawn his soul from the ether."
(Spike remembers his past) ...
"I --oh God! What am I? What have I done?"
"Your prize does not please you, William?" the demon asks.
"Don't call me that!"
"Spike, then? Does that suit you better?"
"No! Spike is ... is not me. Not anymore."
(In his despair, Spike goes to L.A., to find the only person who can help him)

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He pushed open the double doors, which had the look of costly style but had long ago lost their majesty, and stepped into the hotel lobby with the satisfaction of completing a journey. Long that journey had been, as he had landed in Los Angeles more than two weeks ago -- two torturous, despondent weeks. He had slept little and had eaten even less, and his clothes hung off his thin frame. He imagined if he could look in a mirror, he would hardly recognize himself, but that was the way he wanted it. The desire to starve the demon inside himself, a foolish aspiration, he knew, had consumed his every moment. People got hurt when he set the demon loose. He couldn't stomach the thought of hurting an innocent ever again.

Word on the street had led him here, but somehow he couldn't visualize Angel living in such a vast, open place. The elder vampire had always tended toward darker, smaller locales. The lobby was well-tended and neat, everything he would expect at a hotel, except for the grotesque red pentagram splayed across the floor. The other thing out of place was the total lack of people. He cautiously stepped inside, walked around the pentagram, and licked his dry lips.

"Hello?" he said, then louder, "Hello? Anyone here?"

He heard some shuffling, and a few moments later, a dark-skinned young man poked his head around a door behind the counter. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and a sheen of sweat covered his chest.

"Oh, sorry, man," the man said as he came out. "I didn't know anyone was here."

"Quite all right. I --"

He stopped short as a pretty woman with mused brown hair also emerged from behind the door. Her lipstick was smeared a little, and she handed the man his shirt with a shy smile. It was obvious what they had been doing. Memories came unbidden of having Buffy in much more compromising positions, and his cheeks heated in embarrassment.

The woman's eyes turn on him then and widened in concern. She rushed toward him. "Oh, come in, please. We're so sorry. We were -- well, we didn't hear you come in. Please, sit down, Mr...."

"Will," he said, giving her the name he had adopted since his ordeal in the cave. He couldn't bring himself to continue using his former name of Spike, as it carried the weight of too much innocent blood. William, too, seemed wrong, but for opposite reasons.

"Mr. Will," she repeated and led him to a circular couch.

He chuckled. "No, just Will. It's my first name."

"Oh," she said, and laughed at herself. "Sorry."

"It's all right."

"I'm Fred. This is Charles Gunn. Is there anything we can get for you," she asked. "Like something to eat or drink? Or maybe a change of clothes? No offense, but you look like you could use it."

"No, I -- what I really need is to find Angel. Do you know him? Is he here?"

The woman's eyes widened again in surprise, her face as open as a book. Will could tell she wasn't used to hiding her emotions, and he found it rather refreshing. It was the man, Gunn, who answered him, though.

"You know Angel?" he asked a little warily.

"Yeah, we're old friends."

"How old, exactly?"

At that question, Will studied Gunn more closely. The young man obviously suspected him of being something other than human, and, judging from his stony expression, he also harbored no love for demons. Will didn't have a choice but to trust the pair of them, though, if he wanted to find his sire.

"About a hundred and twenty years, if you must know."

Gunn smirked. "Thought so."

"But I'm not here to fight. I only want to talk."

"Yeah, right. Just like every vamp who comes looking for Angel wants to talk." He slowly, deliberately reached for his back pocket and pulled out a wickedly sharp stake. He knelt one knee on the couch beside Will and pressed the stake's point against his chest, but through it all, Will hardly twitched a muscle, even as his inner demon pushed to break free. "Give me a reason not to do it. Tell me why we should trust you."

"Charles, don't! Let him explain first," Fred cried out, and pulled at her boyfriend's shoulder.

He shrugged her off, keeping his gaze fixed on Will. "I am giving him the chance to explain."

"Without the stake, OK?" she pleaded. "Haven't we seen enough violence in here?"

"It's all right," Will interrupted, and Fred backed off. It took all his strength to remain still, when his demon side wanted to toss the bloody wanker across the room and his human side wanted to help the stake home. "I wouldn't trust me, either. Let me assure you that I haven't killed a human for months, and I don't intend to start now." Still Gunn didn't move, so Will continued in a menacing low voice. "I don't want to hurt you, but you're pressing your luck. Now get the bloody hell off me before I throw you off."

For one terrifying moment, Will feared that Gunn would call his bluff. After all, he had yet to test whether the chip was still active; he didn't know himself whether he could go through with his threat. Then Gunn looked away, stood up and shoved the stake back in his pocket. Will smoothly rose to his feet and stood eye to eye with him, his inner demon singing to life. He suddenly could sense the rich blood pumping just below Gunn's skin, only inches away, and he trembled with hunger and disgust at the same time.

"Do that again, and we will have a problem. Understand?" His voice, calm but intense, made Gunn visibly shudder as he nodded. Good. Now they understood each other, and Gunn wouldn't underestimate him again. "Now where is Angel?"

"He's not here," Fred said, coming between the two men. She glanced at Gunn. "We haven't seen him in weeks."

"Bloody hell," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "What about Cordelia, then? She would know where to find him."

Fred winced a little. "She's gone, too. Our best guess is that they ran off together. Maybe wanted to spend some time alone."

Will raised his eyebrows. "So it's like that, is it?"

Gunn jabbed Fred lightly in the ribs. "He doesn't need to know all that."

"He obviously knows them both, so why not?"

"Because we don't know him."

"But --"

"Look," Will interrupted. "Do either you know anyone who would know how to find Angel? It is rather important that I find him sometime this century."

Fred shrugged helplessly. "Sorry."

Will fell back onto the couch and held his head in his hands. This wasn't going at all like it was supposed to. Only Angel could help him. Only his sire would understand what he was going through, caught between his human self and the demon he had become. Not able to control which aspect would take over at any given moment. He couldn't go on living like this. He needed Angel's wealth of experience, but this -- his last hope of finding Angel -- had fallen apart spectacularly. Will suddenly wished Gunn had thrust the stake in, if only to end his torment.

He could think of only one other person who might be able to help him: Buffy. She had nursed Angel back to health after his temporary transformation into Angelus, and she had seen what he had gone through. Will had heard those stories, oh yes. In the old days just after Buffy's resurrection, when she had sought company in his crypt almost every night, she had talked and talked about everything, and he had been content to listen.

She might help him now, if he asked her. But he couldn't bear to face her after hurting her so much, and he cringed at the thought of accepting her pity.

"So that's it, then," he muttered. "Angel's gone. Can't go back to Sunnydale. It's over. I have nowhere else to go."

A small hand fell on his shoulder. "Then stay here for a while," Fred said softly.

Gunn said, "Fred, I don't think --"

"No, Charles," she said firmly. "I know what I'm doing. Trust me." Then to Will, she said, "We have plenty of space here, and rooms without windows. Angel and Cordelia might come back at any time. You can wait for them here, if you want."

Will looked her helplessly. "Why do you want to help me? I'm a vampire. A killer. You have no reason to trust I won't try to kill you, too."

She quirked a smile. "We can always stake you later if we need to. But for now, it's obvious you need help. And that's what we do. We help people."

But I'm not a person. He bit back the words. If this young lady was willing to show some compassion for a monster, then he would be a fool to turn her down. He nodded his acceptance.

Fred beamed. "Great! I'll go get a room ready for you, then. Oh, and we've been keeping a fresh supply of blood in the fridge just in case Angel came back. Pigs blood, not human. Hope you don't mind ..."

She continued her cheerful chatter as she led him into the hotel, and a glowering Gunn stalked along behind them with his hand at his back pocket. Will respected him for his vigilance as much as he admired Fred for her open-hearted trust. It would make for an edgy relationship among them, though.

Angel he thought, don't stay away too long.

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