Chapter Two.

If Wesley had thought the lobby of the Hyperion was too large the day before, this morning it seemed cavernous. Cordelia was already there, but she wanted to know why he hadn't been home when she'd called the night before. That particular question put him in such a foul mood that he answered with a short, "Out," and retreated to his office, shutting the door with such exaggerated care that even Cordelia could see how much he wanted to slam it, and left him to brood in peace.

He wasn't unaware of the irony. Angel was the one who holed up and brooded. But then, it seemed like Angel was rather helplessly mired into every single aspect of his life now, so he wasn't too surprised to find himself emulating one of the vampire's less endearing traits.

Of course, Angel was currently off doing his brooding in a monastery somewhere in Tibet. And somehow, he was still managing to ruin Wesley's life.

Wes groaned and dropped his head into his hands. Angel had been gone for over two weeks now, and during that time they'd had gotten three visions and one walk-in client. Wesley had dealt with all four incidents, with Gunn's help of course, but after the last he'd found himself sore and lonely and in need of a beer. Then Spike had wandered into the picture and he'd found himself sore in much better ways, and for one night at least, he hadn't been lonely.

And then Spike had found out about his connection to Angel, and that was the end of that. Now he had to sit here, a carbon-copy of the vampire that was currently fucking up his life past all measure from thousands of miles away.

Distantly he heard the phone ring, but he ignored it, since Cordelia was the one who dealt with the phones. The only time Wesley was needed was when-

"Wes? It's someone who says they need to talk to you in particular."

She hadn't even bothered to knock, just talked through his door like it wasn't shut. He sighed and contemplated ignoring her.

"It's someone named Will- says he needs to talk to you about last night."

He was at the door in a flash, and she smirked at him as she handed over the phone. He took it, smiled very politely, and shut the door very firmly in her face.

Back at his desk, he raised the phone to his ear and said a tentative, "Hello?" As if he was half-afraid that Spike had changed his mind and hung up.

"It's me, luv," Spike said from the other end of the line. "I'm, um, calling to say 'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Wesley asked faintly, having expected almost anything but that.

"Yeah," Spike said, and Wesley guessed that he was grimacing at the phone. "Sorry for taking off on you like that. It's just... Angel... bit of a sore spot with me. Wanker manages to mess up my life at every turn without even trying."

"I can understand that," Wesley said with a faint smile. "Better than you know."

"Maybe. Tell me about it."

"Why?" Wesley asked. "Not that I mind, really, but... Why?"

"Want to know about you, is all," Spike said. "Like you. Wouldn't have called if I didn't. Figure if you want to complain about the Great Pouf there's no one better to do it with."

"Simple enough," Wesley conceded. "How about this. Meet at my apartment tonight, and we can talk without Cordelia listening at the door."

There was a surprised yelp and a scuttling noise as Cordelia fled the scene of her crime, and Spike's chuckle rolled down the line. "Sound good to me, pet. Say, eight o'clock?"

"Of course," Wesley said, and hesitated for a moment before he said, "Goodbye then," and hung up the phone.

The knock came on the door a couple minutes later, when he'd already buried himself in one of his texts, and he called out an absent, "Come in," assuming it was Cordelia coming to interrogate him. It was in fact Gunn, checking in to see if they had anything for him to do that day. They didn't, so he wandered out after saying something about cleaning some of the swords. Wesley saw Cordelia starting towards him, her expression intent, and made an abrupt decision and shut his door.

Then locked it.

Spike leaned back against the wall of Wesley's flat, his arms crossed over his chest. He'd had a hard time finding the place- Wesley hadn't given him directions or even an address, and since he hadn't wanted to call back and practice his horrible American accent on the lovely Cordelia, he'd had to go to the cyber café he like and do a reverse lookup on the phone number Wesley had given him. Turned out that Coffee and a Byte wasn't that far from Wes' place, so he'd just stayed there for an hour or so before heading up here.

He heard footsteps on the stairway, and a minute later a tired-looking Wes came into view. He smiled as soon as he saw Spike, causing Spike's own smile to warm a couple degrees.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Wes said as he came closer. "Were you waiting long?"

He rested one hand on Spike's arm when he asked the question, and Spike had to hide the pleasurable shiver the action gave him. "Nah," he answered easily. "Couple minutes, tops."

"Good," Wesley said. His hand left a little patch of warmth on Spike's skin when he moved it to unlock and open the door, and it didn't fade until they were inside with the door shut and Spike was shrugging out of his coat.

They went through an awkward social dance as they tried to get settled, and ended up on the couch, both of them barefoot and down to jeans and t-shirts. Wesley had gotten them both beers- real, English beer, not the watered-down American tripe- and they sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, just quietly enjoying each other's company.

"Right," Spike said finally, rolling his head to one side to look at Wesley. "We're here to share our pain over my dandy of a Sire."

"He's not here."

Confused, Spike asked somewhat stupidly, "Who's not here?"

"Angel," Wesley said morosely. "The Slayer died, and now he's off somewhere in a monastery."

Spike actually raised himself up on one elbow in his astonishment. "The Slayer died? First, I wanna know who offed her so I can shake 'is hand, but more importantly, why the hell is the pouf off somewhere when he got his little mission here? In a bloody monastery, no less?"

"I think it's in Tibet," Wesley said. "Though really it could be anywhere. He went there to deal with his grief over Buffy- she was killed during a battle with a Hellgod, by the way, and Glory was killed as well, so I doubt you'll be able to shake her hand."

"Shame about the goddess," Spike mused. "Though I've never though much of the 'destroy the world' thing that Angelus was so fond of. Always figured he hadn't thought this thing through. I mean, what would we eat?"

Wesley stared at him for a moment, then gave into the laughter that had been threatening since the beginning of Spike's little speech. The vampire relaxed a fraction more next to him, and aimed a soft smile his way when Wesley's chuckles wound to a close.

"Better," he said softly. "Not so grim. Good to see you laugh, pet. Should do it more often."

And just like that, all trace of amusement was gone from Wes' face, leaving a kind of resigned sadness. "Haven't really had reason to for a while," he said quietly. "Not since we came home to find Willow waiting with bad news. I knew Buffy too, of course, but I find myself grieving more on Angel's behalf... or maybe I'm just upset that he's gone and I'm left holding the bag. Again."

An audible growl came from Spike at that. "You mean the wanker took off and left you to do his little hero bit? And you've had to do it before?"

"He fired us, this winter," Wesley said. "We continued to fight the good fight, despite the fact that he refused to do so."

"Wanker," Spike growled. With an abrupt switch he said, "Right, that's it. No more about my sodding Sire. We've got better things to do."

"I'm sure we do," murmured Wesley, and tilted his head the scant inch that was need to brush his lips over the vampire's own.

Spike hummed happily, and kissed him back.

Wesley came home the next night to find his door unlocked and Spike on his couch, boots on the coffee table and tv on. Spike held up his lock picks before Wesley could ask, and the man sighed before hanging his coat up and joining Spike on the couch.

Spike handed him a beer, then moved a couple inches closer and leaned into him. Wes sighed again, and rearranged them until Spike was half-curled against him, with Wesley's arm draped over his shoulder. Spike made a little noise of satisfaction, then stole the remote and changed the channel.

Wesley was late into the office the next morning, late enough that Gunn was there before him, which was saying something. Cordelia sneered at him when he came in and said, "Late night?"

"Yes," he said honestly, because Spike had proven to be very bad at actually letting him go to sleep, and had also woken him up when he left, an hour before dawn. "But I also had to run an errand." He held up his newly-copied key as proof.

"Wes already have keys," Cordelia told him, proving that she wasn't a quick this morning as she usually was. He bared his teeth amicably and said mildly, "I didn't copy it for you."

She recovered quickly though, and said, "Your new boyfriend gets a key to your apartment already? Moving a little fast there, aren't ya, cowboy?"

Wesley ignored the sound of Gunn chocking on his coffee and said, "Yes, it's for Will, and no, it's not too fast, because if I don't give him a key he'll just pick the lock again."

"Again?" Cordelia said, arching one eyebrow. "Got yourself a wild one, doncha?"

"Boyfriend?" Gunn was saying, since he'd regained his power of speech. "You're fucking guys now?"

"I'm have sex with Will, yes," Wesley answered calmly. "Why, do you want to meet him?"

Cordelia's enthusiastic, "Yes!" was drowned out by Gunn's heartfelt, "Hell, no! I meet this guy I'm not gonna be able to stop the images that I'm blockin' right now."

"Don't worry, I won't subject you to such a horrible fate," Wesley said dryly, and wandered into his office with his coffee.

Behind him, he heard a slap that sounded like Cordelia's hand meeting the back of Gunn's head, and a hissed, "Dumbass! Now I'll never get to meet him!"

"Haven't you ever heard that curiosity killed the cat?" Gunn demanded, and in his office Wesley smiled, and fingered the key in his pocket.

Spike's face when Wesley handed him the key was priceless, and resulted in some of the best sex of his life. They rocked along comfortably together for the next week or so, with Spike waiting in Wesley's flat when the man got home, and beer, dinner, and sex filling his evenings quote happily. Neither of them really thought about it much, but if they had they both would have assumed they'd continue along in this vein for a while.

And then Cordelia had another vision.

Spike was waiting in Wesley's flat at the usual time when he heard Wes' footsteps on the stairs. He got up to open the door, as always, and that was when he smelled the blood.

He was out the door in a flash, and was standing next to Wesley before Wes could even realize that the door had been opened. "What the fuck happened to you, mate?" Spike demanded. He took a second to realize that all the blood was from a wound in his calf and not somewhere that Spike could hurt by holding him before he just scooped him up in his arms, uncaring of Wesley's faint noise of protest.

He kicked the door shut behind him and laid Wesley on the couch, vanishing into the bathroom for first aid supplies. He was aware that he hadn't given Wesley a chance to answer his question, but at the moment he didn't care.

A few minutes later he was back out in the living room, wrapping a bandage around the cleaned and treated wound. It was a nasty cut, done by the claws of the V'sha'ak demon Wes had fought earlier. Spike looked up in alarm when Wes told him what had done it, but Wes assured him that he'd already taken an antidote to the poison in the demon's claws, and that his only risk was infection.

Finally the job was done, and Spike put away the supplies before joining Wes on the couch. "Now," he said mildly, "you're gonna tell me what the bloody hell happened."

"I told you," Wes protested. "We were fighting the V'sha'ak, and-"

"And you didn't tell me why you were there in the first place," Spike interrupted. "Which is what I want to know. Somehow, pet, I have a hard time believing that you lot just happened to stumble on an elaborate ritual sacrifice."

Wes sighed, slumped a little farther down into the couch cushions, fidgeted some. "You're right," he said finally. "We didn't stumble on it. Of course we didn't. Cordelia... she gets visions, messages from the Powers that Be, about people in trouble. They're meant for Angel, of course, but since he isn't here we're forced to deal with them on our own."

"Fucking Angel," Spike growled under his breath. "Fucking good at running off." Pause. "Next time it happens, I'm helping out."

"I can't let you do that," Wes argued. "Not because I don't think you can handle yourself, or because I don't want you around, because I do, but because Cordelia will recognize you, and Gunn too, if Cordelia told him anything about you."

Spike accepted the wisdom of this, albeit reluctantly, but was by no means willing to let Wes take on any more demons like that with no one but a couple of humans to back him up. "There's gotta be some sort of magic that can hide me," he said stubbornly. "Maybe make them think I'm someone else?"

Wesley was silent for a minute, lost in thought as he considered Spike's suggestion. Spike waited patiently, quiet even as Wesley went to thumb through several of his books.

"Found it!" Wes exclaimed a few minutes later, and he limped back to the couch to show Spike the spell he'd discovered. "A glamour. It would cover you in the illusion of someone else. You'd look like that person, sound like that person, and with enough power put into the spell, you'd even be warm to the touch. We could tie the spell to something, like a piece of jewelry, or a stone in your pocket, so that all you would need was a touch and a particular trigger word to raise or lower it at will."

Spike stared at him for a minute with undisguised admiration. "That's bloody brilliant, pet. Bit of a problem, though. Who's gonna do the spell?"

Wesley frowned and sat back against the cushions as he considered. "I'm hesitant to call in a third party, since ideally the whole matter would be a complete secret. I could do the spell- it's not that difficult to perform in the technical sense- but it does require a great deal of raw power, which I don't have."

"But you could get it from some outside source?" Spike wondered. "Say, a vampire who's well over the century mark?"

"You're suggesting that I draw from you?" Wesley asked, and his expression showed very clearly his doubt at that particular idea. "It's an extremely dangerous process, and notoriously unstable, and-"

"-And we don't have a hell of a lot of choice if we want to keep this between us," Spike interrupted. "Don't worry about me, Wes. I've been mixed up in far more dangerous magicks. I'll come out right as rain at the end of it, you'll see. Always do." Wesley didn't look too reassured, so Spike said blithely, "Just get your stuff together, and let's get this thing done."

The spell actually went off without a hitch, to both their surprise, though Spike claimed that he was never worried. Wes ended up anchoring the glamour to the skull ring that Spike always wore, figuring (rightly) that if he'd put it on a stone for Spike's pocket like he'd considered, Spike would have managed to lose it in a manner of minutes.

They tested it out in Wesley's living room, with Wes curled up on the couch watching and Spike standing in the center of the floor feeling foolish. He touched the ring, said the trigger word- "conceal"- and suddenly there was someone else standing in his place.

Wesley examined the man critically. He had roughly the same height and build, and he was wearing the same clothes, but his face was narrower and softer, with a patrician cast to his features rather than Spike's more angular look. His hair was dark brown, a little bit long, and ungelled, and his eyes were a soft hazel instead of penetrating gray-blue.

Overall, Wesley thought that he'd done a good job. Looking for it, he could see that this man somewhat resembled Spike, but the subtle changes Wes had made to his face, and the more drastic ones of hair and eye color would make it almost impossible for Cordelia, limited as her exposure was, to recognize this particular vampire.

Spike looked up, above Wesley's head, and saw the most surprising thing of all: his reflection in the mirror above Wes' mantelpiece. "Can't have them guessing you're a vampire, can we?" Wes asked when he saw where Spike was looking. "The glamour image always casts a reflection, even if you don't."

Another ring-touch, the other trigger word- "reveal"- and Spike was back to being Spike. Wes had about half a second to admire the view before Spike was on top of him, and then he didn't think about anything at all for a very long time.

Cordelia had another vision several days later, and Wes used his cell phone to call Spike on the way to the warehouse where a pack of vampires was going to attack a small group of ravers, partying where they shouldn't. Spike said that he was on his way, and Wes hung up so he could concentrate on his driving.

There were more than just a handful of attacking vampires, as they discovered to their dismay when they arrived. There were fully thirteen of them, and Wes felt Gunn hesitate beside him before they both threw themselves into the fray.

It was one of the most desperate fights they'd been in, and they were both blinded by the strobing lights in the otherwise pitch-black warehouse and completely outnumbered. The vampires were toying with them rather than just attacking en masse, so they were holding their own- for the moment, at least. Out of the corner of his eyes Wesley could see Cordelia herding the hapless ravers out of the warehouse, so he knew at least someone would survive this mess, and it was with renewed vigor that he fought the next snarling vampire that came his way.

They'd only been fighting for a minute, thought it felt like hours, when he heard the door slammed from its hinges behind him. Another body plummeted into the middle of the fight, and just like that the tide was turned.

Spike killed three vampires the first ten seconds he was fighting, with nothing more than a jagged length of wood he'd broken off a splintering crate outside. Those three, and the five that Wes and Gunn had already killed, left only five still fighting, and Wes was able to take a second to breathe, and toss his spare sword to Spike. The vampire promptly began to lay waste to the others with a chortle of glee, and for the last minute even Gunn stepped out of the fight, just so the two of them could watch Spike "kick some serious bloodsucker ass," as Gunn put it, watching as he was with open awe.

Spike killed the last vampire with one neat swing of Wesley's sword, which he dropped with a clang before spinning around and stalking over to Wesley's side. Completely ignoring Gunn's presence, he placed his hands and Wesley's waist and lifted him completely off the ground. Wes found himself kissed, as thoroughly as possible without actually using tongue, and then Spike set him back down, wrapped a proprietary arm around his waist, and offered Gunn a carnivorous grin that sat oddly on the glamour-made face of "Will."

The lights flicked on before anyone could say anything, followed in short order by the cessation of the strobe light and the pounding techno music. Cordelia's heels clicked into the following silence as she crossed the floor, and the three men waiting in silence for her to join them.

She walked straight up to Spike, smiled at him, and then smacked him on the arm as hard as she could. "That's for not coming to meet us before now," she said when he yelped and glared at her with injured dignity, then grabbed the hand that wasn't curled over Wesley's hip and shook it enthusiastically. "Welcome to the family, son."

"Don't mind her," Wesley said, with a little laugh in his voice, as Spike slowly pulled his hand free, watching Cordelia warily the whole time. "She's just a little bit insane, is all."

"Yeah, ignore her," Gunn chimed in, then held out his own hand for Spike to shake. "Charles Gunn."

"Will Cohen," Spike said, shaking his hand, and his accent was 100 pure American. Wesley let himself savor a moment of pride in his spell as Spike turned towards Cordelia and said, "And this lovely, if somewhat insane, lady is?"

"Cordelia Chase," she supplied. "Where did you learn to fight? I haven't seen anything like what you did since before Angel left."

"It's in the blood," Spike said enigmatically, which was the truth even if it left quite a bit out. "Look, I'd love to stay and chat, but Wes and I have something to do tonight."

"Yeah, like each other," Gunn muttered, and both of them manfully ignored him. Well, Wes did, anyway- Spike grinned at him, completely unashamed.

"Catch up with you two later," Spike promised, then dragged Wes out of the warehouse.

Cordy and Gunn were waiting for him the next morning, and they pounced the moment he walked in the door. Both of them poured questions into his ear until he was seriously considering making a run for it and locking himself in his office.

Then Gunn asked the question that Wesley had been waiting for. "Where the fuck did you find that guy? I've never seen any-goddamn-one fight like that, except for Angel. You shacking up with demons now?"

Luckily, Wesley had an answer prepared. "No, he's human. His father was a demon hunter, though, and he was trained from childhood to take his place. He's usually better prepared than he was last night, though- it's not like him to go in without weapons."

Which was, in fact, something Wesley had been thinking about. Why on Earth had Spike just charged in there, without bothering to pick up one of the numerous weapons that were scattered about Wesley's apartment? He supposed that Spike just liked to fight with his hands, but it seemed foolish, even for Spike's hot-headed temperament.

And, oh lucky him, Cordelia had an answer. "He was worried about you!" she exclaimed. "I bet he was just feeling all protective and completely forgot about the weapons."

She went silent for a minute, but this awful smarmy grin was spreading over her face, and Wesley just knew that whatever she was going to say, he wasn't going to want to hear.

He was absolutely right. "It's so cute!" Cordy said. "Some bad-ass demon hunter, charging in all crazy because some vampires were gonna hurt his Wes. Isn't it sweet?" she demanded, but Gunn only made retching noises, and Wesley was already in his office, with the door firmly locked.

Spike stared nervously at the ceiling as he strode down the hall towards Wes' door. He was late, so Wes was probably home, and he'd have to explain everything the first moment through the door.

He didn't like feeling nervous. It wasn't a feeling he usually suffered from, and it was bothering him that he was feeling it now.

He had reason to be nervous, he defended himself. This wasn't a problem that he could solve with charm, or seduction, or by killing something, which were pretty much his only three modes of operation. But this was different. This was dangerous.

This was relationship stuff.

He stopped in front of Wes' door, struck by the thought. Were they in a relationship?

The door swung open and Wes stood there, apparently having recognized his step in the hall. Spike took one look at his easy, welcoming smile and blurted, "Are we in a relationship?"

Wes' smile, and his composure, didn't falter for an instant. "Of course we are," he said, as if stating the obvious, and then he grabbed Spike's bag and took it off to the bedroom.

Spike shook his head and came in, shutting the door behind him. By the time Wes came back into the living room, the duster was on the coat rack, his boots were on the floor, and he was on the couch with his bare feet propped on the coffee table and a beer in his hand. Wes came over and settled down next to him, nudging his shoulder into Spike's companionably.

"You gonna ask me why I brought a bag, pet?" Spike asked finally. Wesley just shrugged and settled himself closer.

"I assumed that you ran out of money at the hotel, and needed somewhere to stay. Since I don't mind you moving in, I didn't see the point of bringing it up at all."

Spike's tense expression altered, slowly relaxing as a predatory grin took shape. "Is that really a wise decision, pet? Lettin' a vampire in your home, in your bed?" He lowered his voice to an almost inaudible level and purred, "Don't you know that a vamp like me is gonna eat a tasty morsel like you while you're sleepin'?"

"I sincerely hope so," Wesley said, and started to unbutton Spike's shirt.

The next week was relatively peaceful, with one exception- Cordelia had a vision of a family whose father had been turned and was coming back home for an easy snack. Wesley didn't call Spike till after- it was only one vampire, after all- but Spike was there to help him through the emotional meltdown that followed, and the vampire got out of him the tale of the physical and emotional abuse his father had dealt him, the tale his friends had only ever heard hints of. Talking about it bled off some of the poison of the memories, and that night the two of them just curled around each other and feel asleep in the security of each other's arms.

It was the end of the week when it happened, the thing that Spike had been dreading. Angel was back, and that meant that whatever Spike had with Wesley was soon going to come to a violent and painful end.

When he said as much to Wes, his lover just stared at him for a long moment, then smacked him on the back of the head and told him to stop being such a wanker. Spike allowed himself to be reassured, telling himself that Angel wouldn't find out, and that even if he did he wouldn't interfere, wouldn't mess things up between him and his Wes.

He should have known better.