Angel rubbed his hair with the towel and paused in front of the mirror. It would be nice to be able to see what he looked like with different hairstyles. He found the gel and proceeded to apply it to his hair, styling it carefully.
Spike's hair gel had all come out too now, and his hair was all fluffy, Angel remembered. Actually, Spike could probably do with a bath. Yes, he decided, Spike needed a bath, and it would be best to do it now, when Fred, Cordy and Wesley weren't around.
Wrapping a towel round his waist, he crossed the hallway to Spike's room. Only Spike wasn't there. He checked his own room, thinking that maybe Spike had gone in there again, but still no Spike. Angel searched the entire hotel before cursing loudly and grabbing a pair of jeans and a T-shirt from his room, his duster from the lobby, and rushing outside to follow Spike.
He tried to use his sense of smell to track Spike, but there were so many different scents in the Los Angeles night that he couldn't distinguish Spike's.
"Stupid, stupid boy," he muttered, choosing a road and following it, hoping he might catch a glimpse of Spike's scent. "Why? Why the hell would he want to go out at night when he can't see anything?! Stupid..."
Finally, he caught the faintest glimmer of what smelt like Spike. Angel followed it at a run, and stopped when he saw Spike's distinct white hair with the dark roots starting to show. Spike was walking slowly, and Angel could smell his fear. He reached out and touched Spike's shoulder gently.
Spike felt something touch his shoulder and spun round, hitting the person full in the face. When the chip didn't fire, he swallowed hard, thinking it must be some kind of demon.
Angel caught Spike's arm and brought it down, putting a hand up to Spike's cheek. "Spike! It's me."
Spike frowned. "Sire?" he whispered disbelievingly, and Angel smiled.
"Yes. It's me, it's Sire, Sire's here."
Spike buried himself into Angel's chest and clung to the larger vampire like his life depended on it. Hot tears filled his eyes as he remembered how scared he'd been. "'M sorry, I never meant to run away, I swear I didn't please don't be angry please," he sobbed into Angel's coat, so muffled that Angel could hardly hear it.
"Come on. Let's get home," Angel said, but Spike didn't seem to want to move an inch away from Angel's body. He sighed as he realised he was going to have to carry the boy home.
Spike sat on the bed, wrapped in a towel and shivering as water dripped from his hair, down his face and off the end of his nose. He listened to Angel, who was searching through his drawers.
"Spike, do you have any clothes that aren't made of some kind of denim?"
Spike simply looked forlornly in his direction from the bed.
Angel sighed once more and sat beside Spike. "Don't you know that denim is the worst possible material to sleep in?"
Spike shivered. "Told you. I don't 'xactly sleep in clothes."
Angel closed his eyes briefly and went back to the chest. "Well if you're going to sleep in my bed, you've gotta wear something." He tossed a pair of loose trackies at Spike, who shifted uncomfortably.
"I don't have to. I can sleep in my room."
"No, Spike. I'm not risking you going out again."
"So what, I'm a prisoner?"
"No..." Angel began, then changed his mind. "Yes. You're going to stay here until you're fully well again, then you can go out."
Spike felt the pants sullenly. "These won't fit," he mumbled.
"What was that?"
"I said these won't fit. I'm littler and skinnier than you remember?"
"Tough." Angel turned his back. "Put them on ok?"
Spike grumbled to himself as he heard Angel turning, and began to put them on. "Huh. 'S not like I've got anything you've never seen before," he muttered, and Angel pretended not to hear. When he had safely covered up body parts, he threw the towel at Angel, who turned back round again, picked up the towel and hung it over the radiator.
Then he came and sat beside Spike. "Are you going to tell me why you left?"
"No."
"Why not."
"It doesn't matter. Just... Angel, do you remember when I spilt blood on Darla's carpet?"
Angel frowned. "There were a lot of times when you did that."
"The green one," Spike prompted.
"I think so..." Angel said slowly. "What about it?"
Spike shifted again and hung his head awkwardly. "Well, um, I heard the conversation you had with Darla. I heard... what you said."
Angel frowned. "What did I say? Remind me, I can't remember."
"How could you not remember?" Spike asked incredulously, "You said... that you didn't want me. That if you had known what I'd be like then you wouldn't have turned me." His voice cracked and hid his face as Angel wrapped his arms around him and pulled him in.
"Oh Will, I said that all the time back then! I never really meant it!" He pulled Spike's face up. "Everything you did, everytime you made me angry, I hated it then, but afterwards it just made me love you even more."
Spike frowned, confused. "What do you mean?"
Angel smiled faintly. "You were always messing around, always getting into trouble and thinking up new ways to get out of it, and I loved you for it. I know it didn't seem that way at the time, but I did."
Spike gritted his teeth and shifted away once more. "I don't believe you. You're always messing with my head. Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Angel was slightly taken aback, and moved off the bed quietly. "Ok. If that's what you want."
Spike frowned worriedly as Angel left the room. "Angel, wait!" he said, but it was too late. Angel had left, and Spike heard the sound of a key in the lock.
Feeling lonely and deserted once more, he curled up and cried himself to sleep.
