Prologue

Keeping Off The Radar

"I can't believe I'm stuck here with you."

The tall, dark haired figure of Angel stood, leaning against a brick wall. He was looking out of an alley into the busy street teeming with people rushing about in the early sunset. He wore a ripped black t-shirt and dirty black slacks with scuffed shoes. His hair was more than untidy; it was a nuclear disaster area. His face was bruised and cut open, making him look as though he had just walked out of a gang fight. He sighed, wincing and grabbing his ribs, knowing that at least two of them were broken. No time for that now though. He had a mission.

"Yeah peaches, well, I'm not exactly thrilled to be in your company all the time." He looked behind him to see Spike taking one last drag from a cigarette before tossing it behind him and stepping up to his side. His leather duster was gone, his own black t-shirt also ripped and caked with dry blood. His jeans had a few holes in them and his boots looked as though someone had taken a flamethrower to them. His left hand was wrapped in a long strip of Gunn's t-shirt – he had been crazy enough to throw his hand in the way of a wooden stake that had been aimed for Angel's heart. Angel stared at Spike, his expression softening a bit as he remembered that he wouldn't be standing here if it weren't for the blonde vamp beside him.

"We really have to go in there, don't we?" Spike asked, staring across the street with a look of dread.

"Yeah," Angel said softly, putting his hands on his hips.

"Can't we just kill a few people to get what we want?" Spike complained. Angel glared at him, and he threw his hands up defensively. "I'm only suggesting, mate."

"We have to, Spike," Angel said, his gaze returning to the building across the street. "There is no way around it.

"Well, guess we better get it over with then," Spike sighed. "Ready?"

"Ready," Angel whispered.

The two stepped out of the alley and walked across the street, up the walkway, and through the large glass doors that read: SAKS FIFTH AVENUE.

"God, I don't know why we're in this place," Spike mumbled as they made their way through the men's section. Angel was quickly rifling through shirts, looking for something that would catch his eye. "I mean honestly, Angel, why are we in the most expensive store in the whole bloody mall?"

"Spike, do me a big favor and shut up, just for a moment." Spike glared at Angel but stayed silent. He took to looking around the store, glaring at other shoppers who took the time to gawk at his shabby clothing and beaten look. He found a mirror nearby and amused himself by standing in front of it and watching the people behind him as they shopped. Occasionally he'd change his face and leer at someone before turning and changing back. After a few minutes he found he was again totally bored and sauntered back to Angel's side.

"I'm bored, ya poofter."

"Spike, so help me, I am trying to find some clothes," Angel growled, pulling out a navy blue dress shirt and examining the size. "Why don't you try to find some too?"

"Because this is not my kind of shop," Spike hissed. An elderly couple glanced over cautiously, as if afraid of them. "I hate these clothes, Angel!"

"Spike, calm down," Angel murmured, still looking through the shirts. He had replaced the navy blue on the rack and was again searching.

"I will not calm down!" Spike shouted, attracting the attention of the security guards. The other shoppers had edged away from the quarreling vampires and the sales associates were looking at them with trepidation. Angel glowered at Spike and turned to see the security guards coming towards them slowly, hands resting on their holsters.

"Spike, I'm not getting arrested because you wanna act like a child," Angel snarled. Looking at the guards creeping closer to them, he smiled slightly. "Is there a problem gentlemen?"

"Why don't we all take a walk," the first security guard said. He was overweight, middle aged, and balding. Spike grinned at him, strolling up to him casually.

"A walk, eh?" he asked, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Hands in the air!" He glanced at the second guard – the cliché younger, better looking, trigger happy partner – who had his gun out and aimed at Spike's chest. Spike merely laughed.

"Are you gonna shoot me for putting my hands in my pockets?" he asked the youth. The young man stood firm and kept his aim.

"I said, hands in the air," he stated again. Spike looked back at Angel who was still glowering at him.

"Should I do it, peaches?" he asked, batting his eyelashes. Angel rolled his eyes.

"Spike, do me a favor and take a nice long walk tomorrow around noon. I have a few things to do that require you out of the house."

"Do you hear how he talks to me?" Spike asked the guards, who now both had their guns out and trained on him. "I really don't know why I put up with it. I mean, honestly, you two married?" The guards looked at each other for a moment, confused, before turning back to Spike. "No, not to each other of course!" Spike cried, pulling his hands out of his pockets. "I don't expect the rest of the world to have what he and I have!"

"What?" Spike beamed back at Angel who looked furious. "What the hell do we have?" Angel crossed his arms, waiting for an explanation.

"See," Spike said to the guards, his eyes still on Angel. "See what I mean about how he talks to me? I've been with him, helped him fight his battles, and where does it get me?" Spike took a few steps towards Angel, smiling at Angel's look of outright loathing. "Come on, peaches, what d'you say we get out of this store, go take a walk, cool off before we go home and heat it up again?"

Angel stared into Spike's eyes, which were now just a few inches away from his own. "I'm going to kill you later," he breathed, pushing past Spike and walking towards the Mall entrance. The guards had lowered their weapons and watched, bewildered, as Spike waved and followed Angel, bouncing along merrily.

He caught up with Angel near The Gap's storefront. "Angel, you could at least thank me for getting us out of that."

"Go to hell, Spike," Angel rumbled, shuffling into the store. Spike followed him.

"Angel, in case you haven't noticed, we are in hell," Spike whispered. "All this bright light, the colors everywhere, and those damn happy people – "

"I meant a real hell, Spike," Angel told him. "The kind where you rot and burn for all eternity."

"I'm hurt that you'd say that," Spike said mockingly. "After all the help I've given you – "

"I never asked for your help," Angel spat, pulling out a few pairs of pants. "I never asked for you to be around in the first place." Angel turned on his heel and strode away purposefully. Spike stalked after him and grabbed his arm, whirling him around.

"Where are you going? The cash registers and exit are the other way."

"I'm going where you can't follow me," Angel said, pulling his arm free and walking into the changing room. Spike frowned.

A few seconds later, Angel reappeared. "So do they all fit?" Spike asked, leaning against the wall. He was looking at the other shoppers in a bored fashion. Angel ignored him, looking around the store. "Angel?"

"I… I don't know."

"Well you should, ya sod – "

"The… changing rooms were all locked, I couldn't get in. I need someone to unlock them." Spike started laughing.

"This is too good," he chuckled before walking off. Angel tracked down an associate and ducked back into the changing rooms.

Angel walked out of The Gap twenty minutes later with several bags of new clothing. He glanced around for Spike, inhaling deeply to find his scent. He picked it up and followed it into the food court. He caught sight of Spike in line at one of the fast food places and stalked over to him.

"What are you doing?" he asked angrily.

"Giving you some space," Spike said as he eyed the menu. "You know, I'm almost in the mood for something to eat." He looked over his shoulder at Angel. "Something real, something... greasy. I was thinking about a slice of pizza. Pepperoni, sausage, ham, bacon, all of it. Something I can really… sink my teeth into."

"Spike, I'm sure we can find some food somewhere else. Right now, we need clothes."

"I see you've already got some," Spike nodded to the bags in Angel's hands. Angel looked down at them.

"Yeah, never know when I'll have the opportunity to catch a great sale like that again."

"In about another five weeks," Spike told him as he regarded the menu again. "Ryan told me."

"Who's Ryan?" Angel asked, realizing he sounded incredibly jealous. Spike smiled lazily.

"Cashier – one that rung me up," Spike said. He lifted his left hand and Angel noticed for the first time that Spike had several Gap bags of his own. He laughed quietly for a moment. Spike shrugged. "Not really my style, but if it's what I can get, I'll take it."

"Let's go," Angel said, tugging on Spike's elbow. "Please?" Spike conceded and stepped out of the line.

"Fine, but you owe me something to eat," he said. Angel nodded.

"I think I know a place."

"Still going to kill me?"

Angel looked at Spike, who was dressed in a pair of green and blue plaid lounge pants. He was shirtless, reclining on a cot with white sheets and one pillow on it. Angel shook his head.

"Suppose I can let you live for now," he yawned, covering his mouth. He stretched his legs, looking at the burgundy sleep pants he had on. He too was shirtless, laying on his back on a small cot much like the one Spike had. He too had white sheets, one pillow. It was a long way from the lap of luxury he had become accustomed to with Wolfram & Hart. But it was a safe place to sleep, and that was really all he cared about right then. He turned his head and looked at Spike. "What's going through your head?"

"God," Spike rolled his eyes. "What isn't? I mean, what do we do now? Where do we go? Who do we go to? It's nice of Faith to help us while we need a place to stay, but to be honest, I don't want to stay in her city forever. Not even sure how we ended up in Cleveland. But here we are, and now we have to make the best of it. How about you?" Spike rolled onto his stomach and stared across the room to Angel. "What's going on in your mind?"

"Honestly? Buffy," he said, looking up to the ceiling. "I want so badly to go to Italy, see her again, hold her, tell her how I feel. I want her to know what I did, what we did, to Wolfram & Hart. I want to – "

"To feel like it had a purpose," Spike chimed in. "To feel like it meant something. To know that you gave up all that easy living and luxury for a reason. I know how you feel mate," Spike said sympathetically. "I know just how you feel."

"But I can't go to her," Angel said sadly. "I can't even leave the area right now. Neither of us can. For now, we should just lay low, try to stay off the radar and away from the senior partners. Faith and Robin are working on a few things we can probably get involved in, as long as it's minimal exposure." Spike sighed.

"We're really doing this, aren't we?" Spike asked sleepily. "We're really fighting the good fight?"

"Course we are," Angel yawned, closing his eyes. "Let's get some sleep." He lay quietly for a few hours, unable to sleep. Images of the final fight flashed through his mind. Images of Ilyria, fighting bravely and methodically. Gunn as he lay dying, still shooting his crossbow and taking out any demons he could. Spike… Spike stepping up and fighting with him, for him. It made no sense.

Angel rolled onto his side and stared across the room at Spike, who was drooling slightly on the pillow. He smiled faintly before closing his eyes again and drifting off to sleep.