Not Invincible

by

Princess McPhee

Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt aren't me. Not even the right gender. So, therefore, I don't own.

Author's Note: Ideas from just about every Angel or Spike fic on the planet. So, if an idea very closely resembles yours, please don't take offense.

Summary: Spike goes to Angel, after Buffy beats up on him the latest time. AU from there.

Rating: R

Chapter Three

I take Conner back from Cordelia, and put him back to sleep. Cordy crashes in one of the empty rooms, and leaves instructions not to be woken up before noon unless there's an apocalypse within the next twelve hours. Of course, she points out, if there is, we'll all be dead or in another dimension or something, so there's no need for us to wake her, either way. I smile sleepily as she rants for a moment longer, and then goes down the hall, closing the door behind her.

I head back to my room and fall asleep instantly. Babies are adorable, lovable, gentle little creatures, but they do not make for excess sleep-getting. Forgive my grammar, it happens even to two-hundred forty-something's if they're tired enough.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

At eight that morning, just three hours after I fell asleep, I'm awoken by a piercing scream. I snap to attention instantly, and look around, trying to get a bearing on the sound. When it stops, I jump out of bed, check on Conner, who's still asleep, amazingly enough, and Cordy, who's also still asleep, but this isn't as unexpected. Cordy can literally sleep through an apocalypse if she doesn't know about it.

Heading downstairs, I make for the bedroom where I figure Spike is sprawled. Opening the door a little, I peer inside, expecting him to be asleep, perhaps having a nightmare.

Instead, my childe is curled into the tightest ball of vampire I've ever seen, writhing on the couch. I watch impassively for a few moments, surprised at the emotion I feel. I knew all along what was going to happen, it shouldn't affect me to this extent.

Drugs work very differently in a vampire's body than in a human's. In a human, the blood flow is constant, making a continuous loop around the arteries and veins of the person. This sends the drugs through the brain, causing the effects they have, but it also sends them through the liver and kidneys, where they slowly get filtered out. Not so for the walking dead.

Spike's and my blood, just like every other vampire's, moves very slowly. Since our hearts don't beat to move the blood, what's left of our organs is forced to take up the heart's task. Don't ask me about it, I don't know much more than that, but as far as my experience goes, our circulation doesn't work nearly as well as a human's. Which is fine, most of the time, considering that there's no reason it needs to.

Except when drugs are involved.

Because Spike's blood flows slowly compared to a human's, the drugs take longer to kick in, as with every substance he puts in his body. Vamps take longer to get drunk, and longer to get sober. That's the critical part. Because the blood passes through the brain for longer, and the liver and kidneys of a vampire are far less effective, the drug (ninety-nine percent its physical effects rather than any others) is ten times as potent, or more, in the vampiric body.

Because the human brain isn't everything that controls the vampire, generally drugs have littler effect on the vamp than you would think, given the explanation I've just given. The demon just kicks in, and helps the vampire along until the drugs are finally flushed out of the system.

But cocaine, and a few others, are exceptions. They have magickal properties as well medicinal ones, and they effectively bind the demon while they are in the body, therefore forcing the vampire's ineffective human system, or what remains of it, to deal with the chemicals in the drugs.

Spike will be in agony for the next day or so. Because the reaction took place so soon after he took the drugs, maybe longer. The sooner the reaction occurs, the closer to the brain he injected it. Meaning that it's going to the brain first, and not through the liver or kidneys. Meaning also, that it's at full strength right now, and will be for a while.

My childe is hugging his knees to his chest, instinctively curling up into what's the most comforting position for most humanoids; the one they spent nine months in their mother's womb in. His head is lashing back and forth and he's moaning, tears running from his closed eyes in pain. He's conscious, but barely, and he opens his eyes as I walk into the room, looks at me, and closes them again, determined not to ask for my help. Such an independent boy, my William.

I leave him, closing the door behind me, and try to fix breakfast. Fred and Gunn come in about twenty minutes later, and eat my muffins, Wesley wanders in at ten, and Cordelia stumbles down the stairs at eleven.

Sighing as I look up from a book of demonology that usually holds my attention like a magnet, I curse my inability to focus. No one else can, but I can hear my childe's pained sounds from the other room, faint as they are. I don't want to help him, don't want to give in after I said I wouldn't, but he sounds so miserable.

I've explained to my crew about what Spike did last night, and I must say they didn't look terribly sorry for him. But now Wesley looks up at me, sympathy in his eyes, and nods towards the door of the bedroom. "Why don't you go and get him something to eat?" He suggests. "That way you won't look like you're trying to help him out, but you can check and see how he is."

I shake my head and go back to reading, determined. But I can't stay still, and I get up five minutes later and head to the kitchen, leaving Conner with an eager Fred. Warming pig's blood in the microwave, I bounce from foot to foot, waiting for it to be done. Spike hates animal blood, I know, but he eats it.

Taking it from the microwave dish, I pour it into a mug, and get out the sugar. I don't know if vampires can be hypoglycemic, but Spike always did prefer people who'd just been eating sweets. Stirring it in, it dissolves readily and I head to the bedroom where I left my childe.

Opening the door softly, I peek inside. Spike's still curled up on the couch, and I wait to see if he's awake. One pained ice-blue eye creeps open, and I enter the room. He's relatively quiet for the moment, and I hope to myself that maybe the worst is over. But not so. He seizes, goes stiff and moans hard, then goes limp, looking utterly miserable. I've seen vamps on coke before, but never this bad, and it's paining me to watch him like this and not do anything.

Deciding that he is my childe, whether I like him or not, and he doesn't deserve to suffer, I throw my principles from last night out the window. Sitting down on the end of the couch he's not occupying at the moment, I put the blood on the bedside table. Putting my arms under his limp body, I pull him into a sitting position, and he lolls his head back against my shoulder, clearly hating it but too weak and in too much pain to do anything about it.

Picking up the blood again, I press it to his lips. He doesn't even try to drink. I open his mouth, and dribble a little in. He swallows, but so weakly that only a little of it goes down.

I repeat this move for a while, I'm not sure how long. A bit gets down his throat, but not enough. A lot dribbles on his chest, staining his shirt, but I don't care. It gets on me too, as he tends to spit every time he seizes, but it's just blood. It's like the vampire equivalent of getting water, or milk, or orange juice or something tossed on you. It's just food.

We stay this way for a while, until I get probably a few ounces of blood down Spike's throat, and an equal amount on us. He looks a little less pale, but seems no better. Still, I leave him, hoping that it's enough so he can sleep it off. I hate him sometimes, but I can't stand to see him suffer. He's my son every bit as much as Conner is.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

One, two and then three o'clock in the afternoon come and Spike's no better. I try to feed him again, but he's too weak, I barely get anything down him. I do take a warm, wet washcloth, pull off his bloody shirt and wipe his chest clean before redressing him, though. Dried blood can pull on your skin, and it's really uncomfortable. Besides, I don't want it on my couch.

Heading back into the room at six, after I've fed my human crew, I just watch him for a minute. After concluding that he's really not better, and that I'm starting to get worried, despite my efforts not to care, I head to his side. Pulling him up, I pull him past sitting, and heave him to his feet. He barely supports himself at all.

"Come on, Will. Let's take a little walk. You'll feel better if you get your blood moving." He laughs pathetically at that, spitting a little blood from the inside of his mouth, where I can see he bit his cheek, probably trying to be quiet.

Holding him up, I walk him slowly around the room twice. It takes forever, he can barely move. Putting him back on the couch when I'm done, I exit the room again. Fred's waiting for me.

"How's he doin'?" She asks.

"Not good."

She nods. "That's too bad."

I laugh self-deprecatingly. "Yeah, that's what I think, too."

She picks up on the fact that I'm not happy with this. "Why shouldn't ya, Angel?"
I look away from her honest gaze. "He's a monster. I'm not supposed to baby monsters, I'm supposed to kill them."

"He's your son, Angel. Ya can't help it if you love him. You might not want to, but there's nothing you can do about it."

I smile sadly down at her. "When'd you get so wise?" I ask.

She smiles bad, softly. "I dunno. I think it was after I met you, though."

Hugging her gently, I give her another little smile. "Thanks, Fred."

"You're welcome. And remember what I said."

I nod. "Promise."

She gives me one last smile, and heads back to the kitchen where everyone is congregated, looking at demon books. I take a look at the door behind which Spike is still lying in pain, and head back into the room.

Pulling him a little roughly to a sitting position, I grab his lanky form, and push his head to my neck. He groans, but doesn't make a move. I think he's sicker than I was when Faith poisoned me. "Drink," I tell him.

I can feel the ridges on his face arise and then disappear as he turns back and forth for a moment before resting in his demon face. Yet his mouth still isn't open. I know he'll need more temptation that this before he can muster enough strength to bite and suck.

Putting him gently back against the couch, I lie down a little and pump my chest. Just because it doesn't work doesn't mean my heart is gone, and I can feel the surge of blood through my veins with this manual effort. Raising my childe back to my neck quickly, I press his mouth into the still gently pulsing artery. "Drink."

He opens his mouth, and I feel a prick as he puts his open mouth over the skin on my neck. Still, he doesn't bite.

Reaching up, I position his mouth to line up with an artery, grab the back of his head, and push down gently. His fangs bite into my neck, and at the first taste of blood, he finally gathers the strength to bite. Chomping his jaw once, he put his fangs into my neck and then rests there for a moment. Then, pulling them a little ways out, he swallows, and I can hear him drink what flows into his mouth. It's not much, though, as there's no pressure in my veins to press the blood out of the wound, and he won't suckle.

I pull his fangs from my neck and fasten his mouth around the wound. Then, tensing and releasing my neck muscles, I send spurts of my blood into his mouth. He drinks slowly at first, then more and more greedily until I start to feel lightheaded, and pull him away.

Again, he looks less pale, but not really better. I lay him back down on the couch, wrap a tight bandage around my neck, and then clean up his face. He's covered in blood, so it takes a little time, but I don't mind. He hasn't slipped out of vamp-face, but I don't mind that, either. He's weak, and the change takes effort. It's not necessarily as much that the vamp-face is the natural one, as it is just hard to move between the two of them when you're weak.

Laying a blanket over him and wiping the last traces of blood off his cheek with my finger, I leave the room. Cordy comes rushing up, and puts her hands on her hips in that move that is totally signature Cordelia Chase. "What do you think you're doing?" She asks.

Tired, I shrug. "What, Cordy?"
"You fed him!"

"Yeah?"
"You fed him!"

"Cordelia, is there a point to this little argument?"

"Yes. You fed Spike your blood!"

"I realize that. I was there."

"But it's sire's blood! Now he's all strong and stuff! It's not like Spike isn't bad enough, the last thing we need is a vampire high on your blood while you're still too weak to fight him!"

I shake my head a little, reaching up and pressing down on the wound. "Cordy, he's hardly in any shape to be doing mischief. You can go check on him if you want, but when I left him, he was groaning and in a lot of pain."

"Well, what happened to 'I'm going to teach you a lesson' guy? I don't see why you should help him. He tortured you! And then he has the audacity to come here when things go wrong between him and your ex! A little tacky, don't you think?"

I sigh. "Cordy, I hate him. But I also love him, I can't help it. And I have an obligation to him. I raised him, helped make him what he is. I can't abandon him just because he didn't turn out how I would have liked."

"You didn't create him, Angel. You have no responsibility for him. Drusilla turned him, and Drusilla is responsible for him being a vampire. He's not one of your little lost-causes."

I shake my head again. "Cordy, I'm too tired for this. Just leave him alone, and watch Conner, please? I'm going to take a nap." I head up the stairs.

"This isn't over!"

I wave pleasantly to Cordelia without turning around, as I close the door behind me.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Cordy watches Conner like I know she will. She also answers the phone when Giles calls, wondering because Buffy said Spike disappeared. I'm steaming mad at something, I guess Buffy, when I hear about this. She had no right to torture him the way she did, and then wonder where he went.

But as much as I love her, she's always been like that. She's needy, and being the Slayer has given her an excuse for too long. Hopefully, she'll learn to deal, grow up and become a real adult now that both her crutches, Giles and Spike, are gone. It's hard for me to be mad at her because of our past, but now, I'm pissed. I may not like Spike all that much most of the time, but she had no right to treat him like she did.

I call Giles back as soon as I wake up and explain the situation. He sounds first shell-shocked, and then concerned. He's ready to get on a plane and fly back to Sunnydale, but I think I talked him out of it. I hope so.

"She has to grow up someday, Giles."

"But it isn't right to leave her with all of these burdens right now! She's been through a terrible ordeal, and now she has to deal with all of the things that are going wrong..."

"Deal, Giles. That's the imperative word. I love her, but she's needy. And she'll never learn anything if she keeps leaning on people."

"She's one of the longest-lived Slayers in history, Angel! I'd think you'd have a little respect for the fact that her friends and family are a big part of what got her there!"

"Calm down. I know that it's important people are there for her. But she can't use Spike as a punching bag, and she'll never learn to make her own choices if you or I make them for her. She's twenty-one now, and she has to be allowed to learn from her mistakes."

"But she's not like any other twenty-one year old. Buffy's mistakes could kill her, Angel."

"I know."

"I'll call you from Sunnydale."

"You left for a reason. Doesn't that reason apply considerably to this situation?"

Sigh.

"I just worry about her. I'm much too far away to do any good, here in London. I'm not... used to being too far away to call for help."

I smile, knowing the feeling. "She has Willow, Tara, Xander and Anya with her still, Giles. I'm only a phone call away, and I have five people working with me now. I promise we'll be there for her if she needs someone to help fight."

Silence.

"You know I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

"Yes, well, I suppose I do."

"Then you'll stay in London?"

"I suppose. For now."

"You're doing the right thing, Giles."

"I certainly hope so."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the phone call with Giles, I go to check in on my childe. It's been three and a half hours since I went to take a nap, trying to recover fully from my little blood donation before the night's hunting. Cordelia, in a typical manner, has piled chairs fully of weapons in front of the door to Spike's room, so that it can't be opened from the inside. I sigh, send her a look, which she returns, and start removing the crap.

"This really wasn't necessary."

"Says who?"

"Says me. I ran with Spike for twenty-five years, Cordy. I think I know him pretty well."

"I don't trust him."

"I know that."

"So, good. Then we're on the same plane with the 'lock Spike in his room' plan."

I sigh. "Cordy, this couldn't possibly have held him in there if he was strong enough to pose a threat to anyone."

"Oh, great! Thanks! Just go ahead, burn down my little safety net! You know, sometimes people do stupid things because it makes them feel safe, Angel. Not because they're actually useful. Like covering yourself from head to foot when you thought there were monsters around when you were four. I don't think sheets would have helped much if a vampire felt like taking a bite out of you, do you? No! But it makes millions of kids feel safe enough to sleep at night, and that's important!" She pauses for breath. "Are you getting it yet?"
I smile a little. Typical Cordy. "Yes, Cordelia, I get it now. I promise I won't insult your little delusion-party from now on."

She looks more satisfied. "Thank you. Now, can you tell your kid to please fall asleep? It's like, forty-five minutes past his bedtime, he's spit up on Wesley, Gunn is sharpening weapons, and Fred took her turn already, and I've been watching him for a solid four hours!"

I smile more broadly. "Sure, Cordy." Leaning over the bundle in her arms, I put on my stern face. "Go to sleep, Conner." He just looks up at me with a blank, adorable-baby expression. I smile. "Sing to him."

"What?"

"You heard me. Sing to him. He likes it."

"Do you mean he likes it when you sing to him, or when other people sing to him? Because if you mean when you sing to him, there's no way he's going to be able to make the connection between that and another person's voice."

"Oh gee, thanks, Cordelia."

"Just telling the truth." She looks down at Conner and taps him softly on the nose. "Never bother with tact. It's just a waste of time, not to mention it confuses what are fairly often pretty simple situations. Blunt and clear is the only way to go."

I ignore her, and finally fish the last of the rubble off Spike's door. Cordy steps back, taking Conner with her, and I push open the door, not sure of what I'll find.

Nothing. I walk into the room and look around. Spike isn't where I put him. I'm not really afraid, not a lot scares me anymore, but I'm cautious. He could be lying in wait somewhere. Cordelia's right, sire's blood's a powerful thing, and I'm not exactly his favorite person at the moment.

Looking around the room once, and then twice, I'm starting to get worried. Not for me, but for my childe. There's no way out of this room but for the door, and though Spike could easily have gotten through the mess that Cordy left, someone would have noticed. Therefore, he's got to be here somewhere. He's obviously not lying in wait for me, since he would have jumped out by now.

Then, my eyes alight on a pile of blankets on the end of the couch. They are completely covering something, creating a big lump of what, on first glance, looks to be just blanket. But as I head over, I can finally see some of my childe's signature platinum blond hair sticking out from one end. I sigh in relief.

Pulling the cover slowly back, just far enough to reveal his head, I whisper to him. "Will,"

Nothing. "William."

Pulling the cover all the way off his body, I look down at the way he's curled himself into this incredibly tight little ball. It's easy to forget how tiny my boy is, he has such an imposing presence. But he's small and wiry, well-muscled but little. He looked so fragile when he was alive. I think that's part of why Drusilla liked him. She always preferred fragile things that she could play with until she broke.

Maybe that's why she left him. Maybe a hundred and twenty years of trying unsuccessfully to break him had made her leave to look for an easier target.

I'm not going to get into that, though. Drusilla was just too insane to even try and quantify what went through her head.

Spike curls up a little tighter as the first draft of cold air hits him, but otherwise doesn't stir. "Time to get up, William!" I say, trying to be bright and annoying. Spike always did hate that.

He does nothing, so I reach down, and grab him under the shoulders. Pulling on his upper half, I uncurl him, and lay him back down on the couch, flat on his back. His ice-blue eyes slowly open, and he glares up at me, fully aware. "Fuck you."

"Good evening to you too, William."

He doesn't answer me.

"Well? Aren't you going to say thank you?"

He shrugs. "For what?"

"For bleeding myself in an effort to relieve some of your suffering, boy." I can hear some of my sire tone creeping back into my voice, and I'm as unhappy with that as I am happy. Spike needs discipline. He needs a sire right now, to get him through the tough times. But Spike's sire was Angelus. And I don't want anything to do with Angelus.

He shrugs again. "Why should I? You said don't come out until I was sober, I didn't. I kept my part of the deal. Isn't my fault you're a bleedin' poof who can't even bear to see a soulless vampire suffer."

I growl at him, letting him know that further impertinence will not be tolerated, but he merely holds my gaze and looks straight back.

I'd forgotten for a moment that it's different now. That, though I will always hold power over Spike, partly because he's biologically my grandchilde, and partly because he's adoptively mine, he's not a fledgling anymore, and he doesn't take orders without question.

Not that he ever did.

But it's changed. When a young vampire leaves the pack to live on his or her own, they are no longer a fledgling. When they gain a hundred years of unlife, they are a master vampire. Spike didn't leave the pack by choice, but I deserted them in the early 1900's, and I hear Darla left only a few years later to rejoin the Master. Like it or not, Spike had been thrown out on his own with a dependant, psychotic sire as his only companion.

The vampire who's looking defiantly at me right now is a puzzling mix of my stuttering William, and the battle-hardened, scrappy master vampire named Spike.

Getting up, I leave the room without speaking. If Spike gets hungry, he'll come out to eat. Until then, I'm satisfied that he's well enough I don't need to keep a constant eye on him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

China, 1900

The night that I left the pack, no one but William saw me go. I'd made sure Drusilla was snug in her bed as the sun prepared to creep over the horizon, and Darla had not come back yet. William had been asleep in a chair by the fireplace, sated with even the several day's-ago Slayer blood and the sex that Drusilla had given so freely after he'd earned her respect in the only way my kind knew how.

I remember smelling the sun as I headed out the door. It would be a long dash from the home we'd stolen, to the docks, but I was a vampire. I could do it, could make a straight sprint without needing to stop. After all, I didn't breathe, I remember thinking bitterly.

I'd barely closed the door softly behind me when William had opened it, his face bleary with sleep, but his eyes sharp and alert. He'd been playing dumb, but we both knew he'd known what was going on. "Mornin'" He greeted me. I'd just nodded my head.

I'd started to walk down the road, ignoring my childe. But when we'd gone several blocks, I'd stopped, and without looking at him, spoken. "Go watch Dru, William. You know she can't be left alone."

He was stubborn, even back then. "Where are you going?"

"That's not your place to know."

He hadn't met my eyes. That would have been too impertinent even for William, when he was just barely nineteen. I'd turned a hundred and twenty-four early in the year. Darla had brought me a beautiful maiden. We'd eaten her together, and then had sex by the edge of the puddle of blood that we had allowed to seep from her onto the floor. We'd rolled in it, and then licked each other clean. The memory made me sick.

"Please, sire. You know Dru will ask."

I'd sighed. I had known. I just hadn't wanted to deal with it. "Tell her that I'm sorry," was all I'd told William, before walking away again.

He'd sprinted to catch up with my brisk strides. It had been getting close to sunrise, both of our skins were itching with the warning that we'd been in-tune with since quickly after our turnings. "Please, sire."

There had been something in his voice that had made me turn around and look. William was a proud young man, and a prouder vampire. But then... there'd been something pleading about the way he'd asked for my attention.

I'd focused on him for a moment, and he'd seemed to struggle to gather the courage to say something. Finally, he'd blurted out what I knew to be the truth. It wasn't, however, what I'd known was really on his mind. "You know if you leave, we will fall apart," He'd said.

I'd nodded. "Take care of Dru for me," I'd said. "You know what'll happen if you don't."

He'd locked eyes with me for just a second then, I think, trying to convey the seriousness of the next thing he said. "I promise, sire." And he'd done it. He'd taken care of Dru 'til the ends of the earth. It was only after she left him, did he forsake his promise. I couldn't have expected more of him. That's a big part of how I know Spike keeps his word. He's made few promises, but he's never broken one.

I'd walked away again, intending this to be the last time, but Will had stopped me again, for the last time, slightly wet eyes begging for my attention. I'd granted it, telling myself that I wouldn't stop for him again. I had to get to the docks before the sun came up. "What, boy?"

"Sire... please, don't go."

I'd looked down at him with a mix of pity and sorrow. No anger, really, despite all he'd put me through. I was responsible for him, and though I didn't feel as bad for his turning as I did for Drusilla's, it still put a terrible ache in my chest every time I thought of it. And there he was, asking for me to stay, because he didn't think he was strong enough to be everything I had been.

That was the last thing I'd wanted for him, to follow in Angelus's footsteps. I'd almost laughed, later in my unlife, when I'd found out how differently he'd turned out. If there was only one wish I'd ever made concerning Spike that came true, that was it.

And I'd looked down at him, where he'd actually dropped to his knees in the pale pink glow of the approaching sun, pulled his chin up so that I could see his eyes, looked as deeply as I could into those warm, ice-blue orbs, and whispered the only thing that could encompass what I was feeling at the moment. "I love you, William."

Then I'd left him there on the ground, waiting for the sun to rise or for his senses to return, whichever came first, and he hadn't followed me. I'd barely made the freighter I'd planned to take, but I'd caught it, and that was the end of the days Angelus spent running with his sire and childer.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Los Angeles, 2002

The night goes on, and around ten-thirty, Gunn and I head out with our axes, stakes and crosses, making for the nearest vamp nest. It takes half an hour to dust all six of them, clearly not fledglings, but not very old, either. A couple of times they get the upper hand, but Gunn's every bit as resourceful as me, if not as strong, and we quickly take it back. Wesley can't fight with us yet, we allow him if we absolutely have to, but unfortunately, he'll probably never recover completely from that bullet he took.

Heading back to the hotel, I find Fred tapping away at the computer, and Cordy reading some magazine or another, probably Vogue. She leaves them around all the time. The door to Spike's room is thrown open, and I can see the blinking light of the baby monitor next to Cordelia's hand, on the arm of the couch.

"He's asleep?" I ask. She nods.

"A while ago."

Heading upstairs, I check on him quickly, watch him breathe for a few moments. Conner's a blessing, a gift that I never thought I would get, and he means more to me than anything else in the world. Sometimes it's almost scary how much I feel for him, but I wouldn't give it up for anything.

I go reluctantly back downstairs to log the vampire killings, the date, the time, the place, all that crap. Gunn's polishing the weapons carefully, and putting them away one by one. Nobody else has moved.

"Where's Spike?" I ask.

Cordy shrugs. "He left right after you did. Don't know where he went." What she really means is, 'I didn't care enough to ask.' Not that I expected any more from someone who hates Spike with the passion that she does. Let no one ever tell you that Cordelia Chase can't hold a grudge. She can, and it's not pretty.

I throw my head back in exasperation and mutter under my breath. Wesley raises an eyebrow. "Impressive," He says.

I give a humorless smile. "Been around a long time."

Cordy looks back and forth between us, a puzzled look on her face. "Okay, fill me in. What did I miss?"

Wesley nods towards me. "Angel was just... regaling us with a show of some rather... foul language."

Cordy looks at me. "Go, Angel!" She says. "You know, I think cursing is supposed to be good for the soul. Releases tension, or something." She frowns. "You know, in that case, maybe you shouldn't curse."

I smile tiredly at her. "I'll be fine. Now, no one knows where Spike is?" I look around the room, met with shrugs and uncaring looks all around.

I sigh. "Great. Another night I have to go looking for him."

Cordy looks at me with a weird expression. "No you don't. Angel, Spike may make bad judgment calls, but they're his to make." At least she's stopped trying to tell me that the world wouldn't exactly weep if Spike were dust after tonight.

Not that it isn't true. It's just that it's hardly what I need to hear right now. I know the world would be better off without my childe. He seems to know it, too. Cordy, Gunn and Wesley seem to have no qualms about the idea. But I can't bring myself to be so impassionate, I can't seem to care as little as they do. Because he's my boy, my William, no matter how long he lives or how much he changes.

And I can't seem to make my heart forget that, as much as my soul wants to.

I shrug on my coat and grab a couple of stakes and an axe. I'll leave it in the car, it's just always good to have something to fight with. "Can you guys watch Conner?"

Gunn nods, Fred looks up from the computer screen and smiles. "Sure." Wesley ignores me, expecting, as always, for the others to take on this task, and Cordy heaves a long-suffering sigh.

"Angel, you might be gone all night again."

I grimace a little at the idea myself. "I know. I'm sorry. Could someone stay here with Conner? There's plenty of empty rooms."

Gunn looks up. "I'll stay."

I smile. "Thanks." It's hard to picture Gunn as the fatherly type, but then, I never exactly figured myself for that role, either. He's perhaps not the best person to leave an infant with, and I doubt he has any idea what he's doing. But he knows how to hold him, how to change his diaper, how to attempt to get him to stop crying, and he'll protect Conner with his life, the same way we all would. I know my son is safe in the hands of anybody in this room.

I'm about out the door when Lorne appears. "Hey, Angelcakes," He greets me. It shows how used to him I am now, since I don't even flinch at the hated nickname.

"Hey."

He looks me over, and then at his watch. "It's midnight. Isn't patrol over by now?"

I nod silently, not really wanting to get into this. Cordy does it for me, though, piping up from the chair in the corner. "He's going out to look for Spike. Again." The last word is said pointedly, and I ignore it, but I don't miss it.

Lorne looks me over. "You really need an electric-shock collar for that pup, huh?" He says. Cordy giggles.

"Good idea!"

I send a glare at first the Host, and then at Cordy. I can almost see her doing that. "Not. Going. To happen."

She sends me a biting look. "Well, Gunn may be self-sacrificing enough to take on your son again, all night, for the second time this week, but it's my turn tomorrow, and I'm telling you now, I'm not staying past eleven nor getting here before nine, unless there is an apocalypse on the way. Understood?"

I give her a little smile, just for being Cordy. "Understood."

The door slams behind me.

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