Angel really needs to stop being surprised by Spike. He needs Spike to be in another country - in another dimension, preferably. One from which he will never return.
Because really, what is Angel supposed to do when Spike breaks into the Hyperion to steal one of his books? That alone has got to be a sign of impending apocalypse, especially when Spike's backup consists of a Russian assassin with eyes as cold as any vampire's, and a story out of a bad science fiction movie.
"Are you sure they're not demons?" Angel asks.
"Fairly sure," Spike says. "They look human enough - even smell right - but the blood tastes... off."
"You tried to eat one. Why does that not surprise me?" Angel asks the ceiling.
"Don't play the snob now. You spent a century in the gutter eating rats. Alien blood will probably taste like ambrosia in comparison."
"Alien blood," Alex says dryly, "is green, and acidic."
"Not on!" Spike protests. "I was gonna see if I could get him to take a bite out of one."
"I don't eat people, Spike." Angel really wishes that Spike would go away.
"Why not?" Alex asks. "Spike does."
Angel glares at Spike. "You're trying to save the world and you're still eating people? Don't you see anything wrong with that?"
"Not really," Spike shrugs. "After all, I'm trying to save the world so that I can go on eating people, aren't I? Well, eating people an' watching football."
"You're disgusting, Spike."
"You're singing my song, Peaches," he sneers. "Fun an' jokes aside, if these aliens of Alex's win, I don't think they'll care much about good an' evil, or human versus demon. They strike me as the 'kill 'em all an' let God sort 'em out' types."
"You would know," Angel spits.
Spike smiles proudly. "Bloody right, I would. These are the take-no-prisoners sort and no mista- oh, bugger."
"What?" Angel asks. "What?!" Spike is looking at Alex, and the assassin's eyes widen in sudden comprehension.
"We left Agent Mulder in the trunk," Spike says.
Agent Mulder turns out to be Special Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. Spike ushers him none too gently into the room, one hand gripping his collar, and points at Angel.
"That over there? Is a friendly vampire. Go ahead an' ask him all the questions you're afraid to annoy me with."
"Spike," Angel warns, but it's too late. Agent Mulder is apparently afraid to ask Spike much of anything -- either that, or Spike has kept him gagged for most of the time he's held him captive. After about five minutes, Angel is betting on the latter. Spike and his pet assassin are deep in conference on the other side of the room, and although they both look deadly serious, Angel gets the feeling that they're laughing at him.
Author's Notes: As always, feedback is used to feed the plotbunnies.