A/N: This is the last chapter.
Chapter Eight – Like Clockwork
Spike hummed happily to himself, greedily shoveling buttery, salty popcorn in his mouth as he watched the best movie ever created: A Clockwork Orange. Stanley Kubrick certainly was a genius; especially with the bit where Little Alex crushed the prissy cat-lady with the futuristic penis-shaped piece of art.
Yes, it was all about the moloko and the ultra-violence and the old in-out, in-out in Anthony Burgess's satirical interpretation of the future. The fact that the interpretation had been more than a bit off filled the little vampire with childish disappointment – kind of like finding out that Santa Clause wasn't real, or the person shoving money under his pillow for his fabricated, makeshift lost tooth was really his overly-domesticated sire (who, by the way, was really in dire need of a manlier pair of knackers).
"What're you watching?" Angel asked, sitting down beside his snack-sized childe and popping a few pieces of popcorn into his mouth.
"A Clockwork Orange," Spike replied through a mouthful, scooting closer to the elder vamp.
Angel's eyes widened as he watched a man fill a glass of milk from a statue of a naked woman.
"Should you really be-?"
"Yes," Spike quickly cut him off, then catching his sire's glare, widened his eyes in an attempt at innocence. "Lorne put it in for me."
Angel managed very well until he "viddied" a young Malcolm McDowell bending over to be given an anal examination. At this, he sprung to his feet, hit stop, and yelled for Lorne.
"'ey!" Spike protested.
"Absolutely not."
"But it's my birthday!"
"It's not your birthday and you're not watching something that glorifies violence and…and rape…and…"
"Beethoven?" Spike interjected hotly.
"Well, I do like Beethoven," Angel said more to himself than to Spike. Then, "But that's not the point."
"Just cause I'm a little small, don't mean I'm bloody stupid," the vampire child stated miserably. His sire would do well to remember that he was the bringer of much ultra-violence and rape and Beethoven…okay, maybe not Beethoven, but still. He wasn't exactly naïve to the ways of the world.
"I know you're not-"
"You don't know." The quavering tone of voice Spike used effectively silenced his sire and Angel, at a loss for words, slumped down next to his miniature childe with a sigh. "You just…you bloody think…I'm not a lil' kid, Angelus."
"Yes, you are."
"No, I am not," Spike hissed. "You really wanna think that I am, Sire. You really want me to crawl into your lap and cry in your chest and call you 'Daddy' forever, but I can't do that."
"I don't-"
"Yes, you do!" the little vampire snarled, throwing popcorn bowl against the wall. "You wanna think that I'm gonna be this helpless little boy forever and that I'm going to grow up with you watchin' and it's not gonna soddin' happen." His blue eyes filled with big tears. "I can't grow up anymore. I'm dead."
Sadness. He felt complete and utter despair and in times of despair, Spike did what he always did.
He crawled into Angel's lap and cried in his sire's broad chest and sobbed out "Daddy" like a broken record.
"We really need to find the cure."
Wesley, Fred, Lorne, Cordelia, and Gunn turned surprised eyes to where Angel was leaning against the doorframe.
"Huh? I thought you liked Spike all little," Cordelia said.
"I do…but it's not right. We haven't been focusing on the problem because having him like this became normality. And as pleasant and adorable as he is like this, it's killing him."
"It's killing him?" Fred asked, alarmed.
Angel sighed. "Not literally."
"What's with the sudden change of heart, big fella?" Lorne asked gently. "Something happen?"
Angel shook his head. "It's just…he keeps trying to be himself. Talking the big talk, like he's the Big Bad. He can't do it. It's too hard for him. He can't count. He can't read. He's helpless. And I'm not making it any better."
"Angel," Wesley said softly, resting a hand on his undead friend's shoulder. "You're doing all that you can…"
"Yeah, and that's the problem. I'm smothering him with unnecessary parental affection and it's making it all the harder for him." He sighed and ran a hand through his gelled hair. "I'm being selfish."
Wesley shot the vampire and sympathetic look and nodded. "We'll find the cure as soon as possible."
Angel nodded, giving his friends a small, sad smile. "Thanks."
Spike awoke from his nap and was unsurprised to find Angel slumbering next to him. Peaches was usually there when he woke up, although he normally wasn't sleeping.
Spike, bleary-eyed, sighed and reached out a hand to touch his sire's face.
"S'okay, Will."
Spike started and retracted his hand immediately, biting his lip to keep from laughing at the trickle of drool that escaped from Angel's mouth. The old poof was talking in his sleep!
"Everythin's gonna be alright, sweetling."
Tears emerged from Angel's closed eyes and the younger vampire felt his throat constrict.
"Daddy's here."
Bloody Hell.
Spike straddled Angel's stomach and roughly shook the older vampire, but to avail.
"Wake up, you bleedin' poofter!" he yelled, grabbing at the slick sides of Angel's face where the tears ran like a river. "You're dreamin' like the ponce y'are! Wake up!" Angel's eyes flew open, but Spike didn't see. "Dadddyyyy…"
"Spike, you're too heavy for this now," Angel grunted, gently shoving the blond off of his stomach.
"What're you talkin' about, Da?"
His voice…it was…deeper?
"You're back to normal," Angel told him calmly.
"Wha!?" His adult hands shot out quickly and he examined them, mouth gaping wide open in shock. "I'm…I'm big!"
"You're big," Angel agreed.
Spike couldn't contain his huge smile as he bounced up and down on his knees on Angel's mattress.
"I'm big! I'm big! I'm big!"
"You're big," Angel repeated, more softly. Spike didn't hear.
"I'm big. I'm big. Oh yeah. I'm the big bad," the now five-foot ten-inch vampire joyously sang to himself. Then, in a flash of gaiety, he launched himself at his sire, falling gracelessly on top of the older vampire in a messy embrace. "Daddy, I'm bloody HUGE!"
Angel was silent.
Spike, suddenly realizing that being returned to his larger state meant affection towards Angel was a no no, sat up and cleared his throat. "I meant…it's about time, you soddin' wanker. What took you so long anyway?"
"Don't know," Angel replied quietly.
"Well, how'd you do it?"
"Wesley concocted some sort of antidote somehow. We put it in your afternoon blood. I don't know exactly how, but it worked."
"It bloody well did!" The blond vampire leapt off of the bed and bounced from foot to foot. "Well, c'mon then, Sire. Let's go celebrate. We'll have a couple of beers and sing a few songs with Lorne. Well…I'll sing a few songs with Lorne. You…you're not exactly a diva, y'know-"
"You're too young to drink," Angel mumbled, turning away from his childe to stare at the wall.
Spike groaned. "C'mon, Peaches, don't be like that…" Angel was silent. "I know you miss the little me. I know I was quite the charmer…who can resist this, after all?" Angel grumbled something incoherent. "Well, fine then. I'm going down to see your mates and you can come whenever you're finished wallowing in self-pity."
The blond fell to his knees and began to rummage under the bed, intent on returning the stolen wallets. Wes had done one for him; he should do one for Wes in return. It was only proper.
"What are you doing under the bed?" Angel grumbled, rolling back over and peering down at his childe. "You're always under the damn bed…"
Spike looked back up, shoving the shoebox out of eyesight on instinct.
"Nothin'."
Angel narrowed his eyes. "You little liar."
"Playing evil mastermind?" Spike asked hopefully.
Angel groaned, shoved Spike none-too-gently away, and pulled out the shoebox.
"I was about to return it," the younger vampire said quickly. "You can't blame me! I was driven by the primal desires of a four-year-old mentality."
Angel, shuffling through the shoebox, growled. "How did I not know it was you…?"
"Well, Peaches, you've always been a right daft one when it comes to me. Especially little me…"
"I was so sure you were the sweetest thing in the world…"
"You really were wrong, y'know…"
"Blinded by fatherly affections just to have my innards torn out and burned to ash…"
"Love'll do that to ya."
Spike was greatly surprised when the shoebox was thrown at him, accompanied by an angry snarl from his none-too-happy sire.
"Return them. Now."
"I was really planning on-"
"NOW."
Three warning growls and a hurt whimper later, Spike ran out of the room to leave his sire all on his oddy knocky.
"I figured it was you," Cordelia huffed, stuffing her portion of the cash back into her wallet. "But nooo…no one listens to Cordy…"
"Oh, hush, Cordelia. You never even suggested it," Wesley chided, primly folding his paper currency into a nice little square and gracefully depositing it into his wallet. "I had my suspicions that it was the little ruffian, but I kept them to myself as I had no real evidence and-"
"How are you feeling, anyway, little…big…Spike?" Lorne asked the blond vampire, who was keeping his blue eyes to the ground. "No bad side-effects to the antidote I hope?"
"Nah, I reckon I'm a hundred percent," Spike offered the demon a smirk. "Back to my big bad self, at any rate. And my body is just as I remember it: hot, tight, and little."
"You got that right," Cordelia murmured, giving Spike an appreciative once over. Spike cocked an eyebrow at her. "What? You were the one that said it…I was just a agreeing…and I still think you're disgusting."
"Right," Spike snorted. "Whatever you say, pet."
Gunn, who hadn't said a word since being handed back his wallet, decided it was the perfect moment to punch the blond in the face.
"'Ey!"
"That was for my shirt."
"Oh, right," Spike grinned at the memory. "That WAS brilliant of me."
Fred looked to be on the verge of tears. "You were such a cute little boy," she said sadly. The, much to the vampire's surprise, she threw her little arms around his waist. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'm not exactly going anywhere, Ducks," Spike said, awkwardly patting the girl's back. "I'm gonna be right here, y'know? Just not quite so little anymore."
"That may be true," Wesley sighed. "But Angel…"
"Yeah, poor Angel," Cordelia agreed.
"Poor Angel," Gunn, Fred, and Lorne chorused.
"Yeah," Spike quietly assented. "Poor Angel."
Poor Angel sat at his desk, sipping at a mug filled with warm blood and reading the newspapers. Bad things were happening. Bad things always happened. He hated the news. Change was becoming less and less of a good thing recently…
Like earlier when he awoke to a full-grown Spike straddling his stomach as opposed to a little boy. That was a bad change. Something was tugging at his pantleg. Had it been the previous day, that something would be his little Will wanting to share in his mug of blood. Now it could be God knows what wanting…God knows what.
Sighing, he glanced down.
"Heya," Spike greeted him softly. The younger vampire was sitting cross-legged at his sire's feet, looking decidedly sullen.
"Hi," Angel returned, equally as soft. He was surprised when the peroxide blond head nestled against his thigh. "How has your day been?"
"Sorta good, sorta bad." His childe nestled in further as Angel absentmindedly started toying with his hair. "I like being big."
"Good."
"Don't like you being pissy with me, though."
Angel sighed. "Why not, Spike? I'm just a soddin' Nancyboy with froofy hair, right?" The elder vampire was caught off guard when his childe clambered onto his lap. "What're you doing?" His jaw dropped in bewilderment when Spike answered by kissing his cheek.
"Of course you're a soddin' Nancyboy with froofy hair, but…" Spike hesitated, feeling the shred of his dignity falling away.
"But…?" Angel prompted.
"You're me Sire, and I love you even if you do have froofy hair," he mumbled, grabbing at one of Angel's arms and securing it around his torso. He readjusted himself so that his head was resting against his sire's shoulder. "I can't help it, you see. It's part of the package. Like this snuggling thing…no one can know about this."
Angel snorted, setting down his mug and wrapping his other arm around Spike.
"What's with the snort, Peaches?"
Angel kissed the top of the bleached head. "Don't worry your little head about it, Will."
"You got that?" Cordy asked. "Oh! Spike's nuzzling Angel's neck. Get a shot of that."
"You're a sick, sick girl," Wesley tsked. "How does Spike NOT see us?"
"He's too busy getting it on with Angel," Gunn scoffed, and then made an indignant noise when Fred hit him.
"You're perverting an awfully sweet father/son moment," the Texan scolded.
"The big fella and the little fella reunited," Lorne said, a wistful smile on his green face. "It's times like these when you forget that this was all my fault in the first place."
Wesley, Gunn, Cordelia, and Fred took a moment for that to register. Then, in unison, shrugged.
"Got enough pictures?" Cordelia asked, as Wesley took one more.
"An entire roll."
"Maybe if we email them to the guys who run the Demons Demons Demons search engine, we can get some decent payback for the wallet stealing."
"You know, Cordelia, that's not a half bad idea…"
And they all lived happily ever after.
The End.