I don't own BTVS or Angel, although I would sell some of my major organs to get them. I don't own any of the people in this story, but I will write about them until my major organs start giving up on me. Okay, thanks for the lovely reviews. I really appreciate them. I also have a message for one of you sweet people... *puts on an evil Bond character voice* Tariq, darlink, if you don't trust me by now, I suppose you never will. Please, understand I cannot write Buffy into the story. She will not fit into my intricate web of wonder. *clears throat and speaks plainly* Sorry, dear. It is beyond me. That is one area where my muse has full range. Anyway, Joss is the greatest of the greats and I am a puny little baby author, but you guys make me feel good about it, so thanks. Anyway, I'm going to say it now...

On with the show.

::Carpe Diem- Tip-Toe Through The Tulips::

"Angel, I already told you what he told me to say." Gunn tried to keep his voice calm, as he ran through the list once more. "He actually told me, to tell you, that you are a..." Gunn thought a moment and shrugged.

"An ass?" Angel asked, amusedly. What else would Spike call him?

"That's right. He said you were an ass for taking the side of a woman, instead of him. So, he decided to ride back to the hotel with Lindsey. That was all he had to say." Gunn sat quietly for a moment and shrugged again. "I think you both are having issues that run deeper than any of us can swim."

Angel leaned his head back on the seat of his car and looked out the tinted window. "Spike is being weird. You're speaking in metaphors. I don't know whether I can trust Lindsey or not." Angel took an unneeded breath and let it out in a sigh. "I think I'm going crazy."

"Well, let me play doctor." Gunn thought that statement over and looked at his boss. "Not in a gross way."

Angel gave Gunn a wry grin and nodded. "So, Doc, what's your diagnosis?"

"Well, Spike's always been weird, so he's just being weirder. Maybe he needs a hobby or something to get him out of the hotel." Gunn put the idea forward, thoughtfully.

"You just want to get him away from you, for awhile." Angel smirked. "You could be right, though."

"Okay, one down. With all the free time that we've had since the apocalypse, I've been reading more. So, we'll put the metaphors off on that. Cool with you?"

Angel silently nodded his agreement and stared out the window, at the hotel, once more.

"You've never been able to trust Lindsey, so why should you do it now? If Spike wants to trust him, then let him do it. Shoot, maybe he's right. He's pretty perceptive." Gunn grabbed his dart gun out of the back seat and pulled it up front, with him. "So, did Spike mention what it was that attacked him?"

"He thinks they were men. Said they had a big bag and he was pretty sure they had Andy in it. He said it smelled like blood and puppy." Angel looked at his nails and wrinkled his nose. Cordelia would probably point the dirt out before he made it up to his bathroom. "We should get inside."

"Yeah." Gunn nodded. "You want me to drive up to the back or you going to 'Spike' it?"

"Spike it?" Angel looked over and caught the goofy smile on Gunn's face.

"Yeah." Gunn said with a laugh. "That's a phrase Connor coined the other night. Me, him, and Wes got a good laugh out of it. He was talking about how you usually just stick to shadows during the day and Spike takes a big blanket around, so he can run through the sunlight. He 'Spikes it'."

Angel nodded. "He prefers to tempt fate."

"Well, you know your fate already, so you wouldn't really be tempting it, would you?" Gunn couldn't stand this. Angel had always been solemn, but he never was so blatant about it. "Try it on for size. There's a blanket in the back seat and Spike should get a kick out of it."

Angel gave Gunn a small grin. "And I'm sure you would find it amusing."

"Yeah." Gunn agreed. Angel started to reach for the blanket and Gunn stilled his arm. "Hey. What name do you have your bank account under? You know, just in case I'm wrong about the whole fate thing."

Angel grinned and punched Gunn in the shoulder. "It's under Mr. Angel. You can figure the rest out on your own."

"At least tell me whether Angel is the first or last name." Gunn mock pleaded.

"Nope." Angel said, as he pulled the cover over his head and slipped out of the car, toward the Hyperion. He broke out into a jog, when he felt his hands start to singe. He ducked under the shade of the stoop and sighed. "Well, that was pretty... different." He muttered aloud.

"Fun, huh?"

Angel looked over to the darker side of the stoop and saw Spike scrunched in the corner. He had a blanket across his legs and a cigarette dangling from his fingertips. Why are you sitting there?"

"You don't let me smoke inside." Spike smiled at the cover Angel still had clutched around his face. "You look like a nun."

Angel looked down at the blanket and rolled his eyes. "I always end up looking like an idiot, don't I?"

Spike nodded. "An idiot with nicely coifed hair." Spike pointed at the empty space next to him. There was enough shade for both of them.

"Well, at least there is that." Angel shrugged and took the proffered seat, letting his blanket fall to his side. "Linsey leave?"

Spike nodded. "I told him what happened and he got real quiet like." Spike waved his cigarette, as he spoke. "That kid is important to him. He makes it obvious that he cares about dog-boy, even when he's trying to pretend he doesn't care."

"It's his son." Angel watched Spike's face, as he took a long drag from the cigarette and exhale the smoke.

"Might as well be." He said through the smoke. "Apparently, he's the only male influence in the boy's life."

"Spike, it *is* his son. Biologically... by blood, his very own son." Angel took in the way his childe pursed his lips, thoughtfully, and then shook his head.

"Of course, he is." Spike took another drag off of his cigarette. "Doesn't really surprise me. He was pretty pissed that you let the pup get away."

"I let him get away?" Angel asked, slightly annoyed.

"Yes, you let him get away. Did you think I would let the guy think I let the boy go, when he was nice enough to take me home, in broad daylight? I wasn't fond of the idea of being littered down the highway, you know." Spike tossed the cigarette butt down and stomped it out, with the heel of his Doc Marten. "I'm kind of hungry."

"Well, we can get something when we go inside. I had the refrigerator restocked." Angel got up from his seat and reached down, to help Spike up.

Spike took the offer and groaned. "I'm not talking pig's blood, Angel. I want... waffles. I want waffles, with lots of syrup." Spike dusted off the back of his pants. "Do we have waffles?"

Angel scrunched up his nose and shook his head. "I don't think so."

"Well, I guess we'll have to tell Connor to go get some." Spike draped his blanket across his head and opened the door. "Where's Gunn taking your car?"

Angel covered up with his blanket and followed his childe, through the doorway. "He's going to go home and sleep, just like any good insomniac would do at seven o'clock in the morning." Angel dropped his blanket, when they got into the lobby. He was tired and hungry, so he didn't bother to pick it up. He had perspective... food and then bed. It seemed like a sound plan. Now, if he could only pull it off.

"What are you doing, crazy?" Spike pointed at the discarded cover. "You drop it there and Cordelia will pick it up. Then, she'll put it somewhere, where we will never find it again." Spike walked over to the blanket and swooped it up. "And you call me a slob." He went over to the closet and threw the two covers down in the floor. He kicked them to the back and then fought to close the door, securely.

"Having problems?" Angel watched Spike wrestle with the old wood door. So much for Master Vampire Spike, he thought, with a chuckle. "You'll never get it done if you try to mush 'em in, like that."

Spike used his shoulder to push and then stepped back, with a sigh. "I'm pretty sure that I've done enough mushing over the years, to be considered a bleedin' Ph.D. it the mushing field, kay? Let me handle this. Alls I gotta do, is to get the stupid clicker to click." Spike went back to his task.

Suddenly, Angel's perspective changed. Entertainment, food, and then bed. "You sound more British, when you're upset."

"Ta, Love." Spike banged the door and it popped... his shoulder, that is. "Bloody, wanking, bastard, piece of shit!" Spike rubbed his hurt shoulder and frowned.

"Now, that was very British." Angel smiled at the scowl that got him. "Kind of in an 'Are You Being Served?' way." Angel thought a moment. "Do they even cuss on that show?"

Spike shook his head. "How should I know? I never paid that much attention. I'm a Python man, myself." Spike looked at the door and snorted. "I hate it."

"Are you being weak or impatient, Spike?" Angel walked over to his childe and waited to be given a chance on the door.

Spike saw him standing there and waved his arm, at the door. "Be my guest."

Angel took the extra step, toward the door and opened it. He picked the blankets up and placed them on the top shelf, instead. Then, he closed the door. Well, at least, he tried to close the door. It didn't click. "Well, this is frustrating."

"You're telling me!" Spike tossed his arms up in the air and grunted.

Angel watched his childe's dramatic display and quirked a brow. "It really doesn't matter that much, Spike. It's not like the boogie man is going to jump out of it, if we don't close it."

"Ah!" Spike pointed an accusing finger at his Sire. "Knock on wood, you silly Mick, or you have jinxed the hell out of us. Mark my words."

Angel laughed. "You don't really believe in the boogie man, do you? Isn't that something you stop believing in, when you are about..." Angel put his hand out from his hip and went up and down about an inch, each way. "...this high?"

"Yeah." Spike agreed. "I stopped believing in him about the time I stopped believing in stories about vampires."

"I still don't believe most of those stories." Angel grinned and shrugged.

"You *were* most of those stories you stupid poof. Shows how much I listened." Spike punched Angel in the shoulder and grimaced. "Ouch!"

"Ouch? Your shoulder isn't better, yet?" Angel pulled Spike over and pushed around his shoulder blade. "Have you been feeding?"

Spike winced, several times. "What are you doing? Mother henning me? Are you trying to make my froofy, pet?"

Angel pushed Spike away and shook his head. "You can have your waffles, but they are being covered in O-negative. You should be feeding, more."

Spike rolled his eyes. "It's not that I don't want to, Dr. Spock. I'll get me 'bloody' waffles, all right." Spike gave Angel an impertinent grin. "It's just that... I haven't been hungry. Not feeding hungry, by any means. When you feel totally gorged out on blood, try to take another bag. Just one more."

"Okay." Angel nodded. "You should still check that out. If the bruising doesn't go down, tell me." Angel turned back toward the closet and charged it with his shoulder. It broke... the door, that is. It cracked and fell right off of its hinges. "So much for good workmanship." Angel looked at down at the door, which lay half in the closet and half out. "I'm hungry."

"Well, let's leave it and get you a blood bag. Me, I'm just bored. I'll probably just watch you eat and fall asleep." Spike followed Angel into the kitchen and waited, while he heated up a couple of mugs of blood. "I won't eat it."

"Well, maybe we'll have guests over for breakfast." Angel leaned against the counter and waited for the blood to get finished. The microwave beeped and he took the mugs out, blowing across the top. He sat down and placed both mugs on the table, one in front of him and one closer to Spike. "Just in case you get hungry." He said, as he picked his mug and sipped from it.

Spike nodded. "That was all very domestic. Where's Connor, do you think?"

"Probably asleep, up in his room. He sprawls out on his bed, like you do. It's funny." Angel laughed at the mental image and shook his head. Spike had usually slept on his stomach, sprawled out like a giant starfish.

"I don't sprawl." Spike stated, indignantly. "I haven't sprawled since I was a fledge."

"Uh-huh, right." Angel took another sip of his drink and settled back in his chair. He was weary. "You need a hobby."

"I have a hobby." Spike said on a sigh. "I annoy you. It's very fulfilling."

"Maybe you could start scrap booking." Angel gulped down the contents of his mug and grinned. His stomach was full and Spike was looking at him like he was completely loony. Life was good.

"Could you imagine what the scrapbook would look like?" Spike scoffed. "The little captions over to the side would read, 'Here's me and Dru maiming' and 'There's Angelus and his bint, Darla, shagging there brains out'. You think anybody would be interested in that?"

Angel thought a moment and then shook his head. "Maybe Giles or Wesley. Watchers and ex-watchers are strange animals."

"Connor might get a kick outta' it." Spike thought aloud.

"I doubt it." Angel shook his head.

"Get a kick out of what?" Connor stumbled in through the door of the kitchen and rubbed his eyes, sleepily.

"Mornin' sunshine. Sleep well?" Spike grinned at the boy.

Connor shook his head. "No. Cordelia stayed over last night."

Angel scowled at his son. There were way to many implications that went with that comment. "And..."

"Let the boy speak, Angelus. What cha' worried about? That they got happy on one of your coverlets?" Spike caught the look Angel gave him and shuddered. "Oh." Spike scrunched up his nose and shook that image away.

Connor sighed and slumped down into the nearest chair. "She made me clean my room. Does that not seem slightly odd?"

"She's a strange, strange woman." Spike decided he should be the one to break it to Connor. Seemed that nobody else found it relevant.

"Ah-hem." The three men turned to find Cordelia, in all her glory, standing in the doorway, holding a black and white fur-ball. "Fur Face, here, decided to get into my make-up bag. I gave him a bath." She handed the kitten to Connor, who kissed its forehead and then placed it in his lap. "What was that about me being strange?"

"I was just saying how it was strange that you stayed so young and vibrant looking." Spike grinned with satisfaction, as Cordelia smiled in that superior way she had. "You know, seeing as how you're getting so old."

Cordelia reared back her hand and smacked Spike upside the head. "I guess from the view point of a guy who can't age, with dignity and grace, I would seem older. Jerk."

Spike laughed. "And somehow you never seem to age in vocabulary."

"I'll hurt you." Cordelia pointed in Spike's face. "I was evil, you know."

"Not your fault." Angel reminded her.

Connor put his forehead down on the table and proceeded in ignoring the adults. They were all so childish. He tickled his kitten's chin and it rolled over on its back, out of his lap, and into the floor. Connor scooped it up, before it could assess what had happened to it. Skittles decided it was Connor's fault and scratched him, lightly. He tapped the kitten's nose and it plopped back down on his lap.

"Well, Spike uses that with me all the time and it wasn't his fault either." Cordelia was puffed up and ready to fight. Too bad I've already won, she thought.

"Nope. Not so. Wasn't William's fault. Spike, on the other hand..." Spike beat his chest with one fist. "Big bad, here. Loud and proud, baby."

Angel got up from his seat and stretched. This was all way to much activity for him. He wanted to be sleeping in a, less than warm, bed, right now. Not bantering over who was more evil once. He had them beat by a long shot, anyway. Or, at least, Angelus did. Angel shook his head. Sometimes that even confused him. "I'm going upstairs. Cordelia, see if you can get Gunn on the..." Angel shook his wrist, in the air, and sighed. He held hi his clutched palm up to his ear.

"Phone?" Cordelia put in.

"Yes, that." I want to be asleep, Angel thought, with a groan. "See if he checked up on that thing I asked him to check up on. Also, I need you to get Amelie, Andy's mom, in here. I'm going to bed. Wake me up by noon." Angel started for the door.

Spike shook his head. "Two. I'll wake you up at two."

Angel looked back at Spike and the stern look he was giving him. "How about one?"

Spike shrugged.

It wasn't a yes, but it would do. Angel walked back over to the table and picked up the extra mug of blood. He downed it and grimaced. "You're right. It's not that good, unless you're hungry." Angel put the mug down on the table and turned to go. Just as he got to the stairs, leading up to his heaven, he heard Cordelia call out to him.

"Hey, Angel." She yelled. "Those sheets, on your bed, are new and clean. Why don't you wash up before you get in. Your hands are filthy."

Her chiding tone was all it took to make him burst out laughing. If it wasn't one thing...

TBC

-Okay, I know it (the chapter) seems pointless, but it's not. That whole trust factor is coming in again. Anyway, thanks for the reviews. Again, I can't cater to everyone's taste (mainly because everyone's taste is excruciatingly different), but if you like humor and/or strangeness, I aim to please. *grin* La dee di dee doy... Oh, yeah! Didn't Spike already say that he believed that men had attacked him, in the last chapter? I thought I had, but for good measure I mentioned it again. It's good to check all your bases, I suppose. And I do... sooner or later. Again, my cousin is still in town and I only get to write when she sleeps, because "I'm too boring, when I'm on the computer." If she only saw what I was doing. Anyway, I love you guys and feedback is appreciated.-

--The subtitle was Tip-Toe Through The Tulips, which I think is by tiny Tim. Or, at least, he made it famous. This is just a small tribute to a very unusual man, here. My hat's off to him.--