Title: The Babysitter

Author: Azure K Mello

Part: 13?

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Rated: R

Type: AU

Summery: The boys talk about slayers

Thank you to snowpuppies for the plot bunny inspired by On the Other Side. I want a happy ending damn it!

Disclaimer: I don't own BtVS.

Between the blankets they watched as the sun went down. Angel said, with a little smirk, "I should get you home: you have to go to school tomorrow."

Will kicked him in a less than vicious way, "Do shut up. It's not even seven yet. I won't mention your test if you don't mention school."

"Ok," Angel smiled as he slid his hands under Will's tee-shirt. "So hot." He pulled the boy on top of his body.

"Am I a blanket?" asked Spike with a quirked eyebrow even as he leaned into the touch.

"No," Angel smiled at him, "I'm not cold. Just wanna keep you close." He pushed a lock of stray hair out of Will's face. "How do you feel about sex on a beach?" he asked with mock solemnity as though he were asking Spike to judge the action's morality.

Will laughed, "Well, the last time I had sex on the beach I had a horrific hangover."

"That was a truly painful joke, Spike," he put a mocking edge on the name and Will just laughed as he shrugged. And then the damn cell phone started to ring. "Don't answer," begged Angel.

Sighing Will said, "It's Mum, I have Dad and her set to different ringers than everyone else."

With a slight push Angel said, "Speak to her."

The words were directed at both the dark haired boy and the woman on the phone when Will said, "Yes, Mum," as he picked up the phone. "No, I won't be home for dinner. I'm with Angel at the beach. . . No, Mum, there are no gangs on PCP here, I'm not stupid. . . I'll be home before curfew and in time for hot chocolate." He smirked as he said it. He was the only high school boy who sat down every night with his parents to tell them all about his day. Of course, most high schoolers didn't have his past. Most high schoolers could be trusted. His past showed that he couldn't be trusted and so every night he would tell them all about his day in detail so that they didn't worry about what he was doing. "I won't be late. I mean, after all, Angel has a test tomorrow." The punishment came swiftly and unerringly. Merciless fingers dealt out the retribution in the form of tickles as Will heroically tried not to giggle while on the phone. "What?. . . I love you too, Mum." Hanging up he shouted, "You bastard! You evil bastard!"

"I thought we decided that you wouldn't mention the test!" Angel laughed as he continued to torture the boy.

"Ger off!"

"You're on top of me. I'm not holding you," said Angel calmly.

"Stop using you evilll logic against me!" Spike tried to crawl away while also endeavoring to catch his breath.

The hands ceased in their movement, "We should get ice-cream later."

"What?" asked Will, still panting.

"You talked about PCP. It reminded me that I need to do a sweep of the graveyards before bed. And I thought I would reward myself afterwards with ice-cream. And then I thought, 'Hey, why not have a pre-killing treat with Will?' So that's how I got to ice-cream."

"Why do you go out hunting every night? Most of us just carry stakes and try to avoid them," his voice dropped as he said the last word as though they might appear if he said it too loudly. Speak of the Devil and he shall appear.

"It's my job to make it easier for you to avoid them."

"That's not your job. You aren't the vampire slayer."

Angel just laughed as though Will had said something adorable, "There's no slayer. She's made up to keep young demons and fledglings in line!"

"She's real," Spike said softly.

"How are you so sure?"

"Didn't you ever wonder why the curator for The British Museum would uproot his family and bring them here? My dad's a watcher. Sunnydale is located on top of a mystical magnet. They call it the Hellmouth because you can literally open hell here."

"I read that in a book. . . well actually Willow read it: it was in Latin. So why did you come here?"

Will thought about it for a minute. He didn't want to tell Angel about the past. It had been stupid to bring up slayers. He had just wanted Angel to see that it wasn't his job. So instead of the truth Will told the college boy a curtailed version of the events. "My father was the last slayer's watcher. When she died we moved here. The Watcher's Council sent out scouts to find the new girl. They'll train her up and send her here."

Angel was shocked. He had never known so much about the Giles. It was odd for him to learn that Will knew more about the occult than he himself knew. A sudden thought occurred to him, "What does your mother do?"

Laughing Will said, "She owns an art gallery and tutors you in exchange for babysitting."

"I thought that it might be a family thing."

"It is, for the men."

"So will you become a watcher?"

Clearly, Angel had no idea what he was asking. "I don't know," Will said softly, "there's always been a Giles on the Council. But I could never make Xander do it. So I might have to just take it on the chin. But the Council knows a little too much about me, they might not let me become a watcher. They know about a few . . . lapses in judgment."

The boy went quiet as he slipped into his memories. "Sorry," said Angel, successfully bringing Will back into the present. "I didn't mean to hit on such a heavy topic. . . We seem to do that a lot."

Will smiled but looked tired, "Let's blame it on that bastard Larry." Angel had no idea how heavy the subject really was. "Growing up is just scary, I guess. What are you gonna do after college?"

"I'd like to become an art appraiser for a museum. You get to see so many beautiful things."

Being the son of a curator and an art dealer meant that Will knew all about what Angel was saying. "What's your area of study?"

"British 18th and 19th century drawings."

"You draw, right? I saw a sketch of Willow on your floor."

"I dabble."

"It was amazing. You should try to be a "real live artist"."

Angel laughed, "It seems so self-indulgent. Rich kid decides he wants to be a starving artist? Sounds like someone playing at life. I'm not that skilled."

"It was beautiful, Angel." The older boy said nothing but ran a hand down Will's face. Turning slightly Will licked Angel's index finger painfully slowly. "Skilled hands." He saw that the dark boy was visibly fighting to keep his composure. Smiling brightly Will asked, "Wanna go for ice-cream?"

Lust filled chocolate eyes tried to clear themselves. Angel was making such an effort to be considerate and not push Will. The younger boy had to bite his tongue to stop himself from laughing. "You ready to go?"

Finally letting the laughter bubble out of his chest Will shook his head and said, "Fuck ice-cream!"

"Thank gods," muttered Angel and then said, "I want you so badly, Will. Wanna be inside of you. Can I make love to you?"

"Do you really have to ask?" Will laughed as he stroked Angel's face.

"Yeah," Angel nodded with a serious look gracing his face. "Maybe you want something else, something different. Maybe you don't want this. I never want to hurt you." Angel looked slightly anxious as he spoke, willing Spike to understand him.

Will felt oddly content when he said, "I like it when you take care of me."

"Where's Will?" asked Liz as she sat down to dinner.

Her parents looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Their son saved them from having to talk. "He's at the beach wiv Ngel."

"Why?" Liz asked slowly.

"'A'cause they had a picnic and they like each of-er."

"Xander," Liz spoke in a deceivingly soft voice, "Angel's not a fag."

"ELIZABETH!" shouted Joyce and Rupert in unison.

The boy ignored their parents' outburst. "Yes he is! I saws 'im kissin' Will! And then we played hide in'seek an' Will and me hided in the shower. And Ngel said we was as sil'wy as each of-er! An' he kissed Will's forehead!" He stuck his tongue out at his sister having won the fight.

Liz stared at him and said, "I'm gonna puke." She pushed her chair out and ran upstairs.

"Rupert?" asked Joyce softly. He nodded and followed their daughter. Unsure of whether or not he was in trouble Xander looked at the vegetables he didn't want to eat. Joyce looked at the uneaten carrots and broccoli and finally said, "Want ice-cream?"

With a huge smile Xander asked, "Do we have choc'late?"

"Sure, baby, come into the kitchen." Her son deserved a treat. And then she paused for a moment and said, "I don't ever want you to call anyone a fag. Got that?" Xander nodded and reached for his mum's hand.