Chapter Two: Angel and Spike

Maybe Buffy could sleep, but Angel couldn't. After leaving her room, he went back downstairs and pulled up a chair next to Willow in the kitchen.

She took a quick glance up at him and then went back to working on the potion in front of her. "I'm not really sure this stuff is gonna work. But I have to be ready, just in case."

"Didn't Buffy command everyone to bed?" he asked, as he pulled one of her open books toward him and started flipping though the pages.

"Yes," she said, grabbing the book and giving him a playfully censorious look, "but there's research to do. And I work better when the kitchen isn't crowded to the ceiling with curious Slayers-in-training."

"They're really getting to everyone, huh?"

"No." After she said it, Willow looked over her shoulder toward the living room to see if anyone was listening. When she saw it was safe, she turned back to Angel and nodded her head, silently mouthing the word, "Yes."

"How's Buffy coping? Really?"

"Really?" Willow started pounding some herbs with a pestle and mortar. "She's dealing. It's tough sometimes, but she's doing the best she can."

"And Spike?" He couldn't help but ask.

"Spike? Spike's coping, I guess."

"That's not what I meant. What is he doing here?"

Willow inhaled a sharp breath and concentrated on the task in front of her. "He helps us, from time to time. Well, actually, these days, he helps us all the time," she corrected.

"And you trust him?" Angel could feel the tension building in his body. He was already tightly wound. Willow was somehow just making it worse.

"Buffy does."

And he snapped. "What do you mean, Buffy trusts him? What about the rest of you?"

"Well," she finally lifted her eyes, "he's kind of, sort of . . . changed? We really don't have much choice but to trust him now. For the longest time he was the only warrior we had - other than Buffy, of course."

Angel shook his head in disbelief. "What do you mean, he's changed? Willow, he's a vampire. An evil, soulless, bloodsucking, creature of the night."

She raised an eyebrow at him. "And you're what? Not a bloodsucking, creature of the night?"

"I have a soul."

"So does Spike."

Angel stared at Willow for a long, hard moment. He watched in horror as her face turned ashen and she tore her eyes away from him. Obviously, she had just given away some deeply kept secret.

"What did you just say?" he asked, when he finally regained the ability to speak.

"Nothing." She wouldn't look at him.

"You said that Spike has a soul." Angel got up from the table and moved closer to her. "Is it true? Willow, is it true?"

She refused to answer.

"Willow?"

"Yeah, it's true," a familiar voice interrupted from behind him.

Angel swung around to see Spike standing by the basement door. "Son-of-a-bitch," Angel cursed under his breath.

"Now that's no way to talk about a bloke's mother. I'd never say anything like that about your dear, old mum."

Angel growled and threw himself at Spike, grabbing the other vampire by the collar and slamming him up against the wall.

"Touchy I see." Spike smirked at him. "Sorry. Didn't mean to offend."

"Spike!" Willow's voice snapped at him from across the room. She stepped away from the table and came up to stand beside the two vampires. "Do you want Buffy to hear? Do you want her to come downstairs and kick both your sorry, vampire asses?"

Neither one moved. They just continued to stand there, staring each other down.

"Angel." Willow tried to reason with him.

Finally, he tore his gaze from his errant grandchilde and looked down at her. As he did, he realized that somewhere, caught up in the moment, he had vamped out. He let his gameface slip and looked apologetically at Willow. "Sorry." He let go of Spike and took a step back.

"There, that's better," Spike said, smoothing down his wrinkled shirt. "That's no way to treat the man of the house, is it?"

Angel went to make another move at Spike, but Willow stopped him.

Spike just laughed. "Has anyone ever thought about getting a leash for you? You know, a nice leather collar attached to a chain?"

"Spike," Willow warned.

"Oh, right, right. Don't want to disturb the Slayer. I forgot." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it.

Angel stared at him and fumed. "A soul?" Angel growled through clenched teeth.

"Yeah. Funny thing about that. Didn't really see it coming, did you? You're not really all that unique anymore, are you?"

Angel tensed. He could feel his blood vessels getting ready to burst. "How?"

"Did it to myself. Stupid git that I am," he mumbled under his breath. "Made a deal with a demon, got my soul back, and oh, yeah, the thing is," he leaned in close, "mine doesn't come with a curse."

"Why the hell should I care?" Angel snapped.

"I don't know." Spike leaned back toward the wall. "Just thought you'd want to know."

"Not that I'm not all for touching family reunions," Willow cut in, "but I think maybe it's time you went to your respective corners and called it a night. The world is ending. If you survive the Apocalypse, then you can kill each other."

Angel tore his eyes away from Spike and looked at Willow. "You're right. Where am I sleeping anyway?"

"Upstairs, in Dawn's room, with Giles and Wesley."

Spike didn't even pretend to suppress his laugh.

Angel shot him a murderous look. "What are you laughing at, Basement Boy?"

"Hey, at least I get my own bed. I'd take the basement any day over sharing a room with two poncey Watchers. You know," he said to himself, "I thought I was going to have trouble sleeping tonight, but it looks like I'll be just fine." He smiled and turned toward the basement. "Night Red."

"Goodnight Spike," she said lamely, as they watched him shut the door behind him. She turned to Angel. "Shall we?" she asked, extending her arm toward the hallway.

"Oh, yes," Angel said, as he continued to stare at the closed door. "Let's."