Chapter Three

"Look, it's alright, Spike." Angel said, more convincing himself than anyone else. He stood up from his chair, rubbing his hand over his face. Spike gave a slight chuckle and shook his head.

"Right, mate, like you're so bloody concerned for my welfare." He said, under his breath. Angel shook his head and rolled his eyes again.

"I was—I was just saying…" Angel tried, but Spike just scoffed and turned away from the window.

"Sod off."

"You're the one who came here, Spike."

"Look, just lay off, right!" Spike snapped, storming toward the double doors. Before he could reach them, he felt Angel's hand on his shoulder, turning him around.

"Spike, just stop." Angel sighed as he spun to face him. Spike's face was a rictus when he turned toward his sire and Angel was taken slightly aback by it. It was a long moment of silence; just starring at each other before Spike finally did something. What he did wasn't what Angel had expected.

The younger vampire suddenly cried out, lashing out with his elbows and sending Angel back a few paces. Spike also stumbled, falling on his ass and panting in short gasping breaths. When Angel regained his footing, he watched as Spike scrambled backwards trying to get his feet under him. He was panting pretty hard, trying to get his emotions in control.

"Spike, what's wrong?"

But Spike wasn't listening, he was pressing his fingers behind him against the wall and pushing himself onto shaking legs. When he finally was able to stand, he was seething and glaring at Angel with gold tinting his eyes.

"Spike?"

He lunged again, only this time his hands were balled into fists and aiming for Angel's face. Angel ducked the first blow, but didn't see the second one coming until it was too late. A deep left hook caught Angel off guard and sent him sprawling onto his back. Somewhere between the punch and the impact, he heard Spike give a heavy grunt. Angel didn't realize until later that it was from pain.

Angel stood up and rounded on Spike, who was cradling his left arm across his chest. Spike had his eyes closed and took a few heavy, blind steps backwards into the wall, finally hitting it and sliding down to the floor.

"Spike." Angel said again, his voice more forceful and projected over Spike's gasping breaths. After a moment, Spike looked up at his sire and sneered, still cradling his arm as if it were broken. It didn't occur to Angel that it might actually be broken.

"Wanker." He accused, his voice filled with pain. Angel couldn't figure out what was wrong with him. It didn't seem right, Spike sitting on the floor, gasping like a human who actually needed to breath. Something was wrong and Angel was beginning to feel it. He watched as the blonde stared at him with hatred in his eyes and squirmed on his ass like a cornered child. Spike, still looking at his sire, pressed the fingers of his right hand into the wrist of his left and ground down on his teethe. Angel heard something pop and watched as Spike slammed his head back against the wall and worked his jaw in a wordless scream.

"Look at me. What happened?" Angel asked, squatting down and reaching out for Spike's arm. With a snarl, Spike yanked his arm away from Angel and lightly knocked his head against the wall a few more times.

"I told you ta sod off."

Angel sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, Spike, I don't know what you're goal is here. So far it looks like it's just to get into a fight with me." Angel watched Spike press his eyes together.

"That was kind of the plan." He admitted, letting the injured arm fall into his lap helplessly. Angel furrowed his brow.

"Why?"

"You bloody well know why." Spike said, tears brimming at the edges of his eyes. He wasn't looking directly at Angel anymore. In fact, he was trying desperately to look anywhere but at him.

Angel was baffled. He hadn't seen Spike cry since 1965. Those were the days when Spike always had to be busy. Usually it was a fight, or a good fuck. The thing with Spike was he was never happy unless he was doing one or both. If he wasn't picking a fight he was screwing Drusilla. And if he wasn't screwing Drusilla, he was off getting the shit beat out of him.

Why?

Angel never really knew why. He settled on the fact that Spike was a masochist and he pretty much let it go at that. But now, the issue had surfaced again. After so many years, suddenly Spike was acting like he had when he was young.

Why? Angel wondered, looking at the teary mess crumpled before him.

Then, it struck him. Like a bat out of hell, the answer smacked him in the face.

"Your hands." Angel whispered, without realizing he had said the words out loud. Spike heard him, however, and raised his glassy eyes to meet his sire's, hatred brimming right on top of the tears. But, the look softened and became a chuckle, causing Angel to feel uncomfortable.