A/N: This is a short one… More should be up soon.

Chapter Two

Trudging through the snow loaded down with the luggage of two women and one overly prissy man was very low on Spike's list of ways to enjoy an evening, down toward the bottom along side bathing in holy water. It was even worse trudging in the snow after them, watching Angelus' hand cupped possessively over both women's backsides. For every minute they spent in the snow, Spike had come up with a new way to kill Angelus, and he was up to about a hundred and sixty when they finally spotted the house.

It was nestled inside small banks of snow, but the path up to it was clear enough to walk down. That, and the smoke rising from the chimney was enough to confirm that someone was home. Spike could almost feel the warmth of the fire from where the four vampires stood. Inside that house would be heaven, or at least as close to heaven as a vampire would ever want to get.

"William!" Angelus bellowed. Spike took an unneeded breath, just to let it out in an exaggerated sigh that his grandsire was sure to have heard. Then he walked forward to the other's sides.

"Yeah, whatcha want, Angelus?"

"Stash the luggage. We'll come back for it later."

"Why are we doing that?"

"We need an invitation to get in the bloody house, William. Or have you forgotten? We need them to think we're human, until we're in the door at least."

"What's that got to do with the bags?"

Before Spike could blink, Angelus' hands were off of the girls' bottoms and around his neck, squeezing and holding him off the ground. "I put up with you for exactly one reason, Spike. You amuse Dru. But as I consider my own sanity much more precious than Drusilla, you will do as I say or else I will remove your tongue before I remove your head."

His hands slipped from Spike's throat, and Spike fell to the ground, too shocked to catch himself. His throat was getting far too familiar with the calloused palm of Angelus' hand. Spike didn't know how much more he could take, especially in the horrid weather.

Angelus stalked toward the house, Drusilla trailing behind him. A gloved hand lowered and reached out toward Spike, and he looked up, surprised to see that Darla was standing above him, offering help.

He took her hand suspiciously and let her haul him to his feet. "No human could carry that much luggage through this snow. You really are a simpleton, aren't you?"

"Maybe I just don't care."

Darla smiled, snow flurries around her face and gentle smile softening her from stern matriarch to amused angel. "I always love an underdog."

They caught up with Angelus and Drusilla just as they were nearing the path that led up to the house. Angelus glared at Darla, and grabbed for her arm possessively. She let him have it with a coy smile, and settled into his side.

Drusilla hung back and took Spike's hand, smiling angelically. "My pretty Willy… I do so love it when Daddy makes you all blue and red. Such pretty colors for your princess."

"No pretty colors on this trip, Dru. I don't fancy another fight with the poofter."

"I heard that, William."

Spike rolled his eyes, but kept his mouth shut, all the while telling himself that he didn't care what the Grand Poofter heard.

The ragged group headed up the small, cleared path to the door. Angelus was in front, and he knocked, Darla a step behind him and looking every inch the beautiful damsel. Spike's arm went around Drusilla to shield her from the harmless cold, and she settled into his side. It was their family position, their portrait position, cultivated to win the trust of whoever was to open that door. After all, who could resist four good-looking young people shelter, especially on a freezing night?

The door opened, revealing a thin, pale man, who took one look at them and slammed the door shut again.

Angelus turned and looked at Spike, eyes wide. "I…"

Spike chuckled. For once, Angelus was speechless.