Chapter Two
"We'll start the sweep on the west end of town. The Seers said that she was there about week ago. At least it's a start." Angel said, packing a few things into a bag on his office table. Spike leaned against the wall of the office, half asleep.
"Wont find her there, mate." he said, his eyes still closed, arms crossed over his chest. Angel looked up from his packing and cocked his head.
"Why not?" he asked heatedly. Spike opened one eye and glanced at his Sire, smiling slightly.
"She already knows you're after her. She's scampered."
"And how do you know that, exactly?" Angel barked, turning and facing his Childe. He stiffly crossed his own arms over his chest, trying hard to look threatening. Spike had to admit, it usually worked. However, this time Spike was unphased and just closed his eye again.
"Wes said she was a psychic didn' he?"
Angel froze slightly and then relaxed a little, shrugging. He hadn't thought of that. He starred slightly at the floor, formulating a new plan.
Bully for me…
"We'll track her scent." Angel said, improvising quickly.
"No. You'll track her scent. I'm not bloody well goin' anywhere."
Suddenly, he heard Angel drop something and grunt. Spike opened his eyes in time to see his Sire flying at him from across the room. He braced against the wall quickly and felt Angel's fingers wrap around his neck. Like an idiot, he reached up and clawed at the fingers bruising into his windpipe.
"We'll track her scent." he growled.
Spike opened his mouth to say something and Angel squeezed harder. His eyes rolled back into his skull and he dug harder with his own fingers against the constriction. Angel didn't let go. Spike remembered when Angel would play this game with him. But that was a long time ago and usually by now he was on the floor laughing and gasping at his Sire's rage.
But Angel only squeezed harder and Spike began to panic. Angel could snap his neck off if he really wanted to and Spike didn't doubt that he would.
In protest, he made a strangled noise with whatever voice he could project and clamped a hand down on Angel's wrist. Through watering eyes he watched the emotions play on his Sire's face. The last one he settled on was confusion.
The fingers quickly released and Angel suddenly stepped back as if he were just waking up. He blinked and looked down at his hands.
Spike fell to the floor in a heap, choking and swearing into the carpet. He didn't need to breathe, but he hated not being able too. It was one reflex he had never learned to be rid of and he felt like he was drowning when he couldn't breathe.
It was a long time before Spike even thought about getting off the floor or even looking up. But when he did, he saw that Angel was crouched down beside him.
"Ponce." Spike rasped, gingerly touching the bruising around his neck. The hold had been stronger than anything Spike had ever received from his Sire and he had to admit, deep down, it frightened him.
"I'm sorry." Angel said blankly, still looking intently at his Childe. "I—" he reached a tentative hand out. Spike jerked back quickly.
"Don't touch me. " he replied shortly, breathe still finding it hard to come out of his destroyed throat. He looked shortly at Angel and saw that his face was riddled with worry. It was almost like he wasn't in control of what he had just done. Like he wasn't sure he had even choked Spike at all.
Since when's he ever sorry? Spike wondered, fingering the bruises again. He could tell they were going to blossom into a deep purple and he wasn't pleased about that.
"Get on with it then." he snapped, standing and pressing his free hand against the wall for support. Angel still looked lost in his own head, but he managed to pick the bag up off the table and head for the door.
Spike followed grudgingly behind.
The car ride was silent for the most part. However, when the black Jag rounded the corner of a dark ally, Angel cut the engine and turned to face his passenger. He noticed the black bruises circling Spike's throat like a horrific necklace.
"How's your neck?" Angel asked in a flat tone, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He was trying hard not to sound like he cared. Spike scoffed and shook his head.
"S'alright. Don' know why you did it though." Spike said softly, looking purposely out the window. He heard Angel sigh and put his hands on the wheel.
"Me neither." he replied truthfully. "It's like I was doing it, but I wasn't." he looked down at his lap and restlessly brought his hands off the steering wheel. Spike glanced over, his eyes narrowed.
"Mind tryin' to explain that again without the brain tease?" Spike asked, lifting an eyebrow. Angel smiled slightly.
"Someone was in my head, Spike. Someone was making me do that." he looked Spike in the eyes. He wasn't lying.
"In your head?"
"Yeah. Seemed like." he sighed, looking out the windshield into the ink of night.
The memory of last year suddenly surfaced in Spike's mind before he had a chance to cap it off and he had to close his eyes in order to keep it from playing out in front of him. In his head…
"The First…?"
"It's a trigger…"
"Either we're together, or I'm on the leash…"
"Yeah," Spike looked out the window again. "I get that."
