I don't BTVS or Angel and I never will, but that's okay. I don't own Spike, Angel, Connor, Wesley, or Skittles, and that's not okay. If I did own them, I would throw them in a giant bag and have myself the most fun and inventive Trail Mix on the face of this planet or any other, for that matter. Anyway, I'm cooky, you're wonderful reviewers, and Joss is genius. Need I say more? On that note.

On with the show.

::The Dalliance of the Eagles- The Metamorphosis of Narcissus ::

"What's that smell?" Wesley asked, as he stuck his nose in the air and sniffed.

"Cinnamon Binaca." Angel stated, casually. "Spike's trying to cover up the fact that he started smoking again. He lasted about..." Angel lifted his shirtsleeve and peeked at his watch. "seventeen hours. That's including the time that he slept." Angel shook his head and laughed. "As long as he keeps it outside, I don't really care. It's not like he's going to cause anymore air pollution, than there is already."

Wesley shook his head. "No, it doesn't smell like cinnamon. It's more..."

"Cat piss." Spike muttered as he walked in the room.

Wesley cocked his head, slightly and nodded. "I wouldn't have put it that way."

Spike rolled his eyes at Wesley's irreverent comment. "I'm not merely describing the smell, Wes. I'm pinpointing it. It's that cat the boy so lovingly refers to as Skittles." Spike was leaning on the doorframe watching Angel closely. Wesley could tell that something had set Spike off, but Angel seemed oblivious to it.

"'The Cat Lovingly Referred to as Skittles', almost sounds like 'The Artist Formally Known as Prince'." Wesley laughed at the joke, as he said it, Angel shook his head in blissful ignorance, and Spike was too ruffled to joke about anything. Wesley realized now wasn't the time, so he turned to his books, with a sigh.

"Anyway, Cat's trying to spray all over things, so I locked him in one room. He can stay there, til we get him clipped." Spike walked over to the counter, and jumped up there, so that he could settle down 'Indian-style', in front of Angel. "He keeps scratching me. It doesn't really hurt, as far as hurting goes, but he starts that now and he'll be evil before Connor reaches manhood."

"Then, you should discipline him." Angel gave Spike a bright smile and leaned back in his chair. "How do you discipline a cat?"

"Depends... Do you want the cat to live through it?" Spike grinned at the transformation from smiles to long-suffering, on Angel's face. "I could give it a whack with a newspaper, then. I don't think it will do much good, but I can be patient if I force myself."

Angel doubted it. His Childe was known for many things, but patience wasn't one of them. "So what floor did you put Skittles on?"

Spike smiled almost sheepishly. Should he tell? Of course, he should. "The first floor."

"No wonder it smells so bad. You only took him up a flight?" Angel shook his head in dismay. Now, Spike was showing a deficiency in common sense. The smell could scare away potential customers. Not that there were any, as of late. "Well, which room did you put him in, so I don't accidentally let him out or anything."

Spike hopped down from his perch on the desk and walked toward the kitchen. "He's in 109."

Angel dropped his pencil on the ground and groaned. "That's Connor's room."

"Sure is!" Spike yelled back, as he grabbed a beer out of the fridge. He popped the tab and laughed heartily. "It's his bleedin' cat. Let him take care of it." Spike walked back into the lobby, gulping greedily from his can, just to be hit in the middle of his forehead by a flying pencil. "Hey, you could put someone's eye out like that!" Spike choked, as he rubbed the sore spot on his head. He bent down to get the lost projectile, while casting his Sire the evil eye.

"Don't whine. I would have put it back for you." Angel leaned back in his chair, balancing it on two legs. "You're lucky Connor's not driving a pencil through your black little heart."

"Oh, Angel! You hurt my soul." Spike feigned a gasp and grabbed at his chest, where his unbeating heart lay beneath the surface, with the hand that clutched Angel's pencil.

Angel chuckled. He couldn't get over Spike's ability to make anything and everything into some sort of joke. Even when he was being a jerk, he was being an amusing jerk. "I'm glad you aren't worried about it."

"Why should I be? The boy has nothing on me." Spike straightened his shoulders and grinned. "I may be all soul-having now, but I'm still the Big Bad. I got the blood of Aurelius flowing through my veins."

"So does Connor." Wesley decided to pipe in, which made Spike's face fall, and Angel burst out laughing. Wesley grinned and continued. "Actually both of his parents had the blood of Aurelius. So he may be a little tougher to beat than you thought."

"What, so the boy has super hearing?" Spike asked.

"Yes." Wesley nodded.

"Vision good too?"

"Yes."

"He fast?"

"Yes."

Spike snapped the pencil in his hand and dropped it to the ground. "What about his metabolism? Can he eat anything he wants and not get all flabby, like his dad here?"

Angel looked up with a scowl, but that didn't deter Wesley. "Yes. His metabolism is quite fast. Not that Angel is... flabby." Wesley cast Angel a look and turned back to his book with a grin. Angel was pretty vain, for a guy without a reflection.

Angel stood from his seat and walked around the counter, until he was facing Spike. "You may want to move Skittles to another room."

"Or not." Spike narrowed his gaze at the taller man. "Connor has to take care of it. It's his cat and if he's not going to be responsible about it, you should give Skits away."

"You're still upset about the stupid cat eating your candy. Can't you even drop a grudge against a cat?" Angel turned away in exasperation.

"Hold a grudge?!" Spike stomped his foot and smiled spitefully, when he realized it cracked the tile beneath his feet. "Angelus, I dropped a one hundred and twenty year grudge... for *your* sake! You don't think I could get over a kitty eatin' some damn bite sized candies? You're an ass." Spike stomped away from his Sire and up the stairs. He wasn't sure where he was planning on going. He just knew that he had to get away from Angel, as soon as possible.

Angel waited until Spike had made his way upstairs and had slammed a door, probably his own, behind him. He rubbed his face with both hands and turned toward Wesley. "Am I an ass?

"Yes." Wesley flipped a page in his book and sighed. "But I'm not an impartial player in this game. Ask someone who likes you."

"What's your problem? I haven't tried to kill you lately or anything." Angel huffed, as he walked in his office and slammed the door behind him.

"What is it with vampires and slamming doors?" Wesley thought aloud. He shrugged and went back to his reading. Maybe they would get over whatever it was that was really upsetting them.

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"Spike, open your door!" Connor screamed through the wood barricade.

"Nope. Not til you settle down. Daddy dearest seems to think you'll stake me for whatever reason you've fabricated, this time." Spike answered his surly brother.

"I won't kill you. I won't even hurt you." The "much" on the end of that sentence, was as good as said, the moment Connor opened his mouth again. "I'm not even that mad."

"The 'that' makes all the difference, little bro. Go and take a cool shower or sumptin'." Spike faked a yawn. "It's almost mornin' and I'm beat."

"Not yet, your not! OPEN THIS DOOR!" Connor beat against the door with his closed fists. It probably would have fell from the blows, if Spike hadn't been leaning against the other side.

"Boys, what seems to be the problem?"

Connor saw the concerned green face out of the corner of his eye and groaned, inwardly. "Spike made the cat spray my room."

"And by spray, I don't suppose you mean bug repellent." Lorne scrunched up his nose, in distaste, when Connor shook his head. "Lovely. Spike, precious, would you open up the door if I promised that Connor would not hurt you?"

"What you gonna' do? Sing 'im to death? No, I think I like me chances of survivin' better when I'm on this side of the door." Spike knew he sounded stupid. He was the Big Bad, trembling over a little boy? No, to tell the truth, he really didn't want to hurt Connor. Plus, what if Connor gave as good as he got and then Angel jumped in? Who would Angel save first? Connor. Well, duh, the kid is alive... as in non-dead. Spike would be laid out as flat as the pavement and Angelus would be the steamroller.

Lorne sighed heavily. This was stupid. A vampire hiding from a kid? He knew there had to be more to it than that, but for all his psychic abilities, he could not guess what it was. "Connor, hum a few bars of 'Mary Had a Little Lamb', for me."

"Hum what?" Connor pulled a face, making Lorne grunt in frustration.

"Just hum a song or a bar of something musical sounding, maybe."

Connor hummed something kind of musical and Lorne winced. "My voice isn't that horrible." Connor pouted.

"No." Lorne agreed. "Certainly nothing like your dad's."

"Damn straight!" Spike yelled from the other side of the door. "Angelus sounds like a goose swallowing a razor, while being plucked by a demon with razor sharp nails... except worse."

Lorne laughed, when he realized the analogy was not that far off. "Actually," Lorne addressed Connor, "I kinda' saw you and Spike. Both big bloody messes, so I think it would be better if you did as Spike suggested. Maybe you should go and pick yourself out a new room. Let the cat run free in your present one. You can have words with Spike after he stops cowering."

"I'm not cowering!" Spike exclaimed. He was insulted. A master vampire, like him, cowering? Yeah right. Cowering was not his way. He was a 'meet it head on' type of guy. Unless, of course, *it* was a testy teenager, with a dad that would assume snap Spike's neck than look at him, at the moment.

"Yeah, doll. You say potato and I say po-tah-to, except I don't say po-tah- to, but you know what I mean. Hey, tiger, how about you move some of that growling and brooding down to your room?" Lorne shooed Connor down the hall and leaned against Spike's door. "The kid's gone. You coming out?"

"If I do, will you give me a parade?" Spike muttered into the splintery surface of the door.

"What was that?" Lorne asked, pressing his ear up to the opposite side.

"Nevermind. Just stuff and nonsense." Spike opened the door and Lorne almost tumbled tail over horns, into the drafty room.

"Umm-hmm..." Lorne dusted some imaginary dirt, off his bright yellow suit and grinned up at Spike. "You done hiding from the tike?"

"I wasn't hiding, either. I was saving him from a bloody nose and me from embarrassment." Spike sulked over to his bed and sat down, with a huff.

"Embarrassment?" Lorne was genuinely confused. "I thought you had the chip removed months ago."

"I did, but this type of embarrassment would stem from a different type of muzzle. You know, the type with teeth." Spike waved his hand at Lorne, silently asking him to understand, asking him to leave, asking him to just not hurt his ego any more than necessary.

"I get it." Lorne walked over and took a seat next to Spike. "Papa bear might jump in between Mama bear and Baby bear's spat and up[set the whole thing."

"I do not like that analogy." Spike's forehead wrinkled up in thought. "I'd prefer to be Goldilocks, than 'Mama bear'." Spike pointed to his head and grinned. "Kinda' almost applies. Mama bear does not."

"Potato, po-tah-to." Lorne got up from his seat and stretched languidly. "As long as you aren't shoving a cat into my room, we'll be okey-dokey. So, Spike, let me ask. Why did you do it? You knew Connor would react like that. You had to."

Spike grinned devilishly. "Well, I didn't know he would take offense. I figured it was his cat, so he should take care of it and.."

"You lie." Lorne stated it matter-of-factly, as he rested his head in his palm.

"I was trying to rile Angel up. He's been kinda' moody lately, cause of somethin' I'm not sure I should tell you about and I just wanted to get him going." Spike shrugged. "He got me more riled than I got him, I'm afraid."

Lorne flashed Spike a wide, white, knowing grin. "Yep, sound about right, Mama bear. I guess I should go down stairs, now. It's a work day and I probably should, at least, try to look busy."

Spike nodded in agreement. "Shut the door on your way out." Lorne headed out the door and was just about to shut it when Spike added hastily. "You think you could do me a small favor?"

Lorne turned toward the platinum vampire and couldn't help grinning at the goofy smile he received. "M'kay. What can I do for you, Sugar?"

"How horrible would it be for you to listen to Angel sing, again?" Spike, literally, sat on the edge of his seat, waiting for Lorne's answer.

Lorne shuddered at the thought. It would be pure torture. Not that he completely opposed to a little pain every now and then... He was a demon, after all. Pain was just another way to feel something, but this. This was completely and utterly masochistic. "Would you tell me why? What would I be looking for."

"Have you ever tried mixing your abilities with the interpretation of dreams?" Spike grinned, lazily, as he and Lorne devised a sneaky and, admittedly, stupid plan to get Angel to spill his dream.

TBC

(I am so sorry this has taken so long to get out. I'm in the process of moving and I had to help organize a huge yard sale, this weekend and last. Plus, my grandmother was in town and she stole my room for three days. Hey! You try to type with my Mamaw hanging over *your* shoulder! I know those sound like excuses, but I'm stressin'! Please review and alleviate my stress! Yes, I am just low enough to play the pity card.)

_The subtitled was called 'The Metamorphosis of Narcissus', because of this famous painting by Dali. It's so cool... He's so cool... You should really check out his work, if your not familiar.-