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Cerulean: "Think you that we should interview the specter? Compel him to make a choice?"

Violet: "We know from what we read in Rose's mind, that he has already made a choice, of sorts. Did he not say that he would rather remain as he was than to be without her?"

Sienna: "But it pains Rose to see him as he is and not be able to do anything. The last contact was unpleasant in the extreme. The welter of emotions spilled over and made the reading difficult."

Citrine: "Angelus expressed himself with much passion on the subject. He knows what Rose is, and yet he insists on acting the protector."

Viridian: "The empath demon tended to the body's needs when it was ailing. He even volunteered to do so, without recompense."

Sienna: "More thought needs to go into the judgment yet. Are we agreed?"

Violet: "We are."

&&&&&&&&

Angel stumbled along the dark streets in a half-daze. Being a vampire didn't make him entirely indestructible, and he'd just taken a serious wallop to the head. Well, actually he had fallen out of a second story window on it. The one small consolation in the whole concern was that the demon that he had been fighting had made the same trip and hadn't survived it. But his brain felt dislocated. He couldn't even remember where his car was, or indeed, if he had even been in one. His head throbbed, and a sluggish trickle of congealing blood oozed from the scalp wound down his forehead. He looked around and blinked, trying to get his bearings. Something about the neighborhood looked familiar. He swiveled his head around again, and winced at the pain. That building, there. Something about it called to him. He was pretty sure that it wasn't home, but there was something about it that was beckoning to him. He went inside, leaning on the walls for support. Up, he was pretty sure that he wanted to go up. One, two, three long flights of stairs. His knees nearly gave out when he finally fought his way to the top, but he forced himself to go on. Doors, all the doors looked the same. He tried counting down the hall, but kept losing his place. Damn, his head hurt. He tried one at random, pounding on it with all his might, he thought, though his efforts produced a feeble thump thump. He leaned against the doorframe, hoping there was someone here to help him. He didn't have enough left in him to try another door.

&&&&&&&

Spike and Rose were engaged in their ritual nightly pillow talk, although the label was slightly misleading unless interpreted literally. Spike had just told her a naughty joke, and was laughing at the blush it produced, once Rose had finally gotten it. He was gearing up for another one when there was a weak tapping at the door. He got up. "If it's some drunk so plastered he can't even find his own door, I'll bloody well scare him sober." Rose got up and padded along after him. Spike stuck his head out of the closed door for a look around. He pulled it back in abruptly. "Sodding hell, luv. Open the door, quick."

Rose obeyed without hesitation, and saw a battered, bloody Angel. He tried to look at her, but his eyes weren't focusing properly. "Oh my heavens," she gasped. "What on earth happened to you?" Angel blinked, trying to decide which one of her to answer. She looked at Spike. "He doesn't have to be invited in again periodically, does he?"

Spike shook his head. "No, pet, it doesn't work that way. Once invited, always invited. Looks like something or someone's rung his chimes good and proper." He gave her slender frame an assessing look, then measured it up to Angel's bulk. "I hope the silly sod can keep to his feet," he observed. "If he hits the floor you'll never be able to shift him, babe. But you'd better get him in here fast, or gravity is going to beat you to the punch."

Rose wriggled her way under Angel's arm and wrapped hers around his waist. "Angel, I don't know if you can hear me, or understand me, but I'm going to try to get you into the bedroom. Can you try to help me?"

Angel replied by releasing his death-grip on the doorpost and falling against her, nearly knocking her off her feet. "Ooof," Rose grunted. "He's terribly heavy. Come along now, Angel, try to walk for me." Angel obediently started a flat-footed shuffle, as Rose staggered under his weight. Spike watched the whole scene, going from being worried to being pissed as hell at not being able to do his bit and spare Rose the effort.

Miraculously, Rose actually managed to get Angel into bed. She would have liked to just stand and catch her breath for a moment, but the urgency of the situation demanded that she keep moving. She picked up her phone. "Wesley? It's Rose. Yes, I know it's late, but Angel's here, he's hurt, and..," She hung up. "He didn't let me finish," she said.

"It probably means that he was half-way out the door before you realized he'd hung up on you," Spike comforted her. "You might want to consider cleaning up that wound before he bleeds all over your bed, pet." He gave Angel a visual once over. "Whatever happened, he took a hell of a shot to the head. Gotta be what saved him, seeing as there's so little there to damage." He looked at Rose's serious face. "It's just a harmless joke, pet. He's a vampire. It would take a lot more than this to put him out of commission permanently."

Rose started washing the lacerations in Angel's scalp, growing whiter herself by the minute. "Steady on, babe. It's just a little blood. Nothing to get all wobbly in the knees about." Spike paced around, wondering how long it would take the bloody Watcher to get here.

"There's an awful lot of blood here," she remarked weakly. "His hair is absolutely stiff with it." She was setting new records in just how pale a person could get, and it was starting to alarm her spectral sweetie.

"Are you sure it's blood or just hair gel?" Spike quipped. "Are you going to be able to hold it together till the Watcher gets here, luv? 'Cause if you can't, best you back off now before you pass out."

"I'll be all right," Rose murmured. "It's just that it's worse when it's someone you know, I guess." She finished the job, and gently stroked Angel's cheek, provoking a pang of jealousy in Spike. It occurred to him that he'd be more than happy to suffer the kind of damage that Angel had taken if only Rose could touch him.

There was a quick knock at the door, which didn't sound quite right, followed shortly by Wesley's appearance. "You left your door open," he scolded gently.

"Well, she was all done in after dragging the pouf in here, wasn't she?" Spike muttered. "Can't expect her to think of everything."

Wesley ignored him. "Has he said anything at all, Rose?"

She shook her head. "He seemed to understand what I was saying, though. Is he going to be all right, Wesley?"

"Don't worry about Angel," he assured her. "It would take a lot more than this to take out a vampire."

"That's what I've been telling her," Spike said. "Will you believe me now, luv? Wonder what it was that managed to give him such a crack to the cranium, though."

"Fell," Angel muttered, opening his eyes with great effort. "Second story window." The small effort seemed almost to exhaust him.

Wesley sat on the edge of the bed. "Angel, is there anything you need?" He gave a short humorless laugh. "They didn't exactly teach us how to nurse a vampire back to health in watcher's school."

"Blood," he answered weakly. "Need it for healing. For replacing what was lost." His eyes started to focus. "Rose? What are you doing here?"

"It's her apartment you nit," Spike informed him. Angel's eyes swiveled to look at him with a nearly audible creak. They widened when they saw what the spirit was, or perhaps what he wasn't, wearing. "Did I interrupt something?"

Wesley stood up, an amused expression on his face. "I'll go and get that blood. You stay put." He turned to Rose. "He probably ought to stay where he is for the night. Do you mind, Rose?"

"I don't mind," Rose said softly. "He gave me a place to stay when I needed it. It's the least I can do." Wesley left on his quest.

"Very sweet, babe," Spike said. "But where in hell are you going to sleep tonight? That sofa has lumps in it bigger than you are." He at least had realized that if the pouf had the bed, there was nowhere he could spend the night with Rose, and he didn't bloody like it.

Rose had been concentrating on the fallen Angel so much that she had scarcely noticed Spike, until now. "It's just for one night, love," she murmured, rising to stand in front of him. "Don't we owe him that much?" The look she gave him would have melted an iceberg. Spike capitulated on the spot.

"Got me wrapped 'round your little finger, you do," he grumbled, but without feeling. "You're calling the tune on this one, pet." He gave Angel a disparaging look. "You better be back on your feet by tomorrow night, ponce."

Angel gave him a weak grin. "Thought I'd be a pain in your ass for a change." He took another look at Rose. "You've got better taste than I thought, clothes and women." He closed his eyes again.

Rose checked the gash on Angel's head. "The bleeding seems to have stopped," she remarked with relief.

Spike shrugged. "Vampires heal fast, sweetheart. He'll be up and out in no time." He paused, briefly. "The sooner the better, for all of me."

"I'll try not to inconvenience you too much," Angel muttered without opening his eyes.

"Too late for that," Spike remarked. "Next time you fall on your head, would you mind doing it in another part of town?'

&&&&&&&

Rose took the next day off work, with Wesley's blessing, to keep an eye on Angel. Both of them ignored the protests of the two vampires, solid and insubstantial. Besides, as Wes had pointed out, all Rose really needed were a couple of reference books, and she could continue her research at home and still be there if Angel needed her.

Rose had dragged a chair into the bedroom to keep Angel company, and Spike sat at the foot of the bed. Sometimes giving Rose surprisingly helpful comments, though Angel guessed he shouldn't have been startled. Spike had still retained many of his bookish qualities, even if he had kept the fact well hidden. Occasionally, he felt moved to heckle Angel, though his grandsire suspected that it was for form's sake as much as anything.

About halfway through the long day, Rose suddenly looked up from her book, something just having occurred to her. "Angel, I can understand you giving me those access codes for my research, but how can you justify paying both me and my department head for research that could only be termed personal?" Her brow was creased in thought.

Angel shrugged. "I'm not exactly what you could call a typical executive," he remarked. "As far as Wolfram and Hart is concerned, I mostly do what I think is best and worry about what the senior partners will think when I have my nose rubbed in it. Which is more often than I'd care for."

"Poor little you," Spike said, without a trace of sympathy. "Don't try to tell me you aren't enjoying having everyone at your beck and call. King of all you survey."

"Too much responsibility," Angel argued. "I thought I had enough already. Now it just seems that they keep on piling more and more on me."

"My heart freakin' bleeds," Spike said sarcastically. Suddenly, his features smoothed out and became tranquil, and lost some of the hard edges. "Reckon I ought to thank you, though, seeing as how you're paying two people to try to get me put back together again."

Angel's eyes bugged out a little. A grateful Spike? He'd shake his head, but it still hurt to do so. "Wait till you get the bill," he muttered, suddenly ill at ease. A smart-ass Spike he could handle. But he wasn't sure he knew how to deal with this.

Rose had mostly been ignoring them, and had gone back to her reading, but she had heard that remark. "You're not serious, are you, Angel?" She looked a little alarmed.

The vampire summoned up a smile. "Just joking," he assured her. "Besides, you can't get blood from a stone, and I've never known Spike to be gainfully employed."

"'Spose it's something I'll have to think about, though," Spike mused. "Since I sincerely doubt that you'll let me sponge off you forever. Got to have some way to pay for pretty trinkets for the lady." He favored Rose with a loving look, eliciting a smile that was just for him. He mouthed the words I love you, at her, and she did likewise.

Angel turned his head away, feeling even more of an interloper than he had when he'd taken the two of them on dates. "Do you mind?" he asked. "The atmosphere's getting a little cloying in here for those of us who are trying to recuperate."

Spike smirked at him. "Just giving you a bit of incentive to get your nancy-boy ass up and about, mate. Don't want you getting too addicted to the scenery here." He fixed his gaze on Rose, in case there was any doubt as to what his referral was in regards to.

"I'd be more than happy to leave now," Angel mumbled. "I did make the offer, if you'll recall."

"You're not going anywhere until Wesley comes and picks you up this evening," Rose said sweetly. "In the meantime, you'll stay put." She looked over at Angel, arching an eyebrow.

Angel looked at Spike. "You know, if I didn't know better, I'd think she was enjoying this."

Spike laughed. "You could be right. Since it usually seems to be one or the other of us insisting on tucking her up into bed. I guess she's getting a bit of revenge now." A thought occurred to him. "Heaven help me if I'm ever on the sick list. She'll never let me out of bed."

"Like you wouldn't be loving every minute of it," Angel remarked with a smile. Then it hit him. "You've been talking like you expect to be made corporeal again. What made you decide that there was hope after all?"

"Her." Spike cocked his head towards his lady-love. "She's just stubborn enough that if she can't find a way, she'll bloody well make one up." A sappy and very un-Spike-like grin crossed his face. "Still don't understand why the silly little wench puts up with me."

"If you're asking me," Angel observed. "You've come to the wrong place. I don't know why anyone would put up with you."

Still grinning, Spike cheerfully flipped him off.