"I think I heard something," Spike said. "I think the lot of them are out there by the door."

"Right."

"Maybe I should have a go at talking to them again. They might be listening."

"Go ahead."

"That's it? Go ahead? Well, why don't you help me? Is that too much to ask?"

Spike rounded on Angel, black leather coat flaring behind him, contrasting with the sea of white surrounding them. "Who knows what you're daydreaming about while I'm tearing myself apart trying to come up with ideas. We've been stuck here forhours now and I'm fresh out of 'em."

Angel pursed his lips, kept his face hidden as he sat hunched over on the floor. They'd been stuck in the small white, windowless room for hours, but he'd believe it if someone told him it'd been much longer. Even with his steadfast patience, he wanted to get out as badly as Spike did. The difference was that he kept it mostly to himself as he knew it was pointless to make a fuss. Spike, on the other hand was mumbling to himself, kicking the walls, and occasionally shooting Angel dirty looks, when Angel did look at him.

Being in such close proximity with Spike wasn't fun under most circumstances. Especially these circumstances. The more Spike pounded on the door and rambled to himself like he was going mad, the more Angel felt like pulling out his phone and dialing Buffy's number. But then he'd remember that he didn't have his phone with him. And that she probably wouldn't pick up anyway.

He sat silently as he felt the camera hidden up high in the corner of the room watching them both. For whatever nefarious reason. He hadn't told Spike about it yet, didn't have much time in between all the shouting, and Angel forgetting when it did happen to be quiet.

"Christ, I can't take much more of this," Spike muttered brokenly, placing a hand against his forehead. "I need to get out of here before I lose it."

Angel continued ignoring Spike as he stared at his hands. He found their protruding veins especially fascinating as Spike mumbled obscenities. Angel didn't feel particularly fond of Spike as of late. Not just because of the torture Spike had assisted in inflicting on him (he sometimes still felt sharp shooting pain in his side), but also because of things Buffy had told him had happened between her and Spike.

Angel breathed in deeply and exhaled like he did when he meditated, trying to ignore the pangs of thirst he'd been feeling ever since he'd woken up just an hour ago. It was hard not to think about how much he could use a glass of blood right now. It was starting to eat away at his tranquility. He wished Spike wasn't standing there mumbling and seething at him so he could at least drink a little in peace. He almost wished Spike wasn't in here with him, period.

"There's no way out," Angel said. "Unless they change their minds. I don't know if they wi—"

"Yeah and who's fault is that, you bloody ponce?" Spike snapped. "Who was the one who said 'hey Spike. we should go talk to her. She might need some help.'"

"I said I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" Spike looked dumbfounded. "Oh, he's sorry. That's it, folks. That's all I needed to hear. Now I'll magically be whisked out of this room back to my sodding crypt and away from your sad arse. Sorry…" Spike shook his head.

The young woman had seemed trustworthy, like just an ordinary young woman needing to be saved. Not that it would have mattered to Spike. Angel supposed he couldn't totally blame him for bellowing at him incessantly. Sometimes Angel was overly optimistic about people. Perhaps he should have asked more questions, been more investigative. Angel sat quietly as he concentrated on a speck of dust lying on the floor in front of him. He wondered idly if he'd really sealed their fate once and for all, just by being virtuous. Then again, there was no way he could have known that this would have happened.

Spike began pacing back and forth, shaking his head the whole time. He had been doing that off and on since they'd arrived, until Angel had fallen asleep. And then again after Angel had woken up. He began ranting, voice booming in the enclosed space.

"So stupid...can't trust you even for a second. 'Listen to Angel, Spike. He won't do you wrong, Spike.' Bloody...sodding...You know what you are? You're like a bad luck charm. A symbol of gloom and doom. It's like you've got a big bright yellow sign hanging over your head warning others to stay the hell away. And no one bloody listens. Who knows why. We're damn lucky we're not trapped in Disneyland or else I'd have to contend with your bloody wicked half as well." Spike paused briefly to inhale deeply. "Tell me something. How can you live with yourself, mate? Don't you get sick of being so damn annoying? Just a burden on all of us, you are. Surprised you haven't staked yourself out of sheer misery. I would if I were you. Acting like you're holier than thou when you're no better than...Y-You're not as good as you think you are. If you were, we wouldn't be here. Because you need to think about things rationally before acting on emotion. Prick."

Angel frowned as he felt a headache coming on. He laid a hand against his forehead, began rubbing soothing circles. It was throbbing from somewhere deep inside his skull. Massaging was doing little to alleviate the pain, to his dismay. But it wasn't surprising. The culprit wasn't inside him; he was stalking back and forth in front of him.

Spike stopped pacing suddenly, stood in front of Angel and looked at him. Angel, to his utmost reluctance, looked up to see what he wanted. Spike was staring at him hard, his face slick with sweat. Angel swallowed hard as he tore his eyes away from Spike's steely gaze. He almost felt like he could feel the hate that Spike exuded.

"You're stupid," Spike said. "You always were stupid. And you drag others along for the ride as you meddle in things you shouldn't. Do things you shouldn't. Just so you can play the role of the reformed vampire. It's stupid."

Angel could have said that Spike was attempting reformation as well, but he knew better. He wasn't sure how much more of this he could take. He closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried zoning out as Spike started insulting his hair, so he wouldn't have to hear any more of this. He didn't need that kind of negativity while he was sitting here, thirsty and concerned for his well-being. But try as he might he couldn't block it out. There was no escape, from this damn room. This room where they were being watched.

"Don't close your eyes, pretend that everything's okay," Spike continued, making Angel open his eyes reluctantly. He watched as a bead of sweat slid down Spikes sculpted cheek, down to his jawline before falling and hitting the floor. "It's not okay. And It'll never be okay as long as we're trapped here where no one can find us, with nothing to stare at except each other."

"There's a camera," Angel said quietly.

"What?"

"There's a camera up in the corner of the room recording us. It's small but it's there."

Spike looked confused for a moment before realization made him jolt and start looking around the room. He looked at each corner, examining them until he found the camera. "Well, isn't that just splendid," he said darkly. "And how long did you know about this before deciding to tell me?"

Angel sighed. "Not that long," he lied. He supposed it was stupid to keep it to himself, but he'd lacked the energy to make Spike even angrier. He was growing concerned for Spike's mental stability as time dragged on. Which was why it was so weird that he was telling him now; maybe the yelling was that much better than the silence after all.

"Great, just great. Who knows what that means. What they'll do to us. What they want from us."

"Maybe to study us. Maybe to make sure we can't escape. Maybe for entertainment. Who knows."

Spike scowled and dabbed at his face with his shirt collar. Dug a hand into his coat's pockets as though he were looking for something. Pulled it out with nothing in it. "Figures. Some evil white coats are probably popping popcorn and getting their rocks off at seeing us have a go at each other. Vampire Deathmatch. That has to be it."

"Maybe," Angel said. He felt the itching sensation again and scratched his right arm, shaking a little. It was mildly alarming that they hadn't even been there for very long and he was already showing signs of withdrawal. Spike seemed like he was at least itching for a cigarette, if searching his pockets and coming up empty was any indication.

Spike kicked the wall and cursed their captors. He sat down across from Angel, kicking his coat aside, his red shirt stretching across his chest. Grasped the bottom of his shirt and pulled it up, wiping at his face. Angel averted his eyes at the skin peeking out underneath. "You don't seem the least bit upset about this predicament. You're just resting there like we're on some kind of a cursed date or something. Maybe this is like Disneyland for you. You like being miserable, right? That's part of your shtick."

Angel rolled his eyes. It wasn't a shtick, he thought irritably. But he didn't say anything. Didn't say that he'd wanted to go to Disneyland with Buffy a few years ago. But he didn't like thinking about that day.

"We don't know what they want with us," Spike said. "Do you even care that we might end up being guinea pigs or getting killed or...or…" Spike's voice faded.

Angel looked up and waited for Spike to continue. He didn't blame Spike when he didn't, and glared at Angel instead. Spike played with his jacket pocket again, remaining quiet for a change.

Angel nodded, although he didn't feel as worried as Spike probably did. Probably because he believed deep down that they'd find a way out somehow. "Yeah. Starving. I know. And of course I care. But yelling doesn't help."

They were quiet for a while as they absorbed Angel's words. But Spike couldn't handle the silence for too long. Which Angel was used to that by now.

"Does sitting quietly make you feel better in some way? Why don't you get up and do something like you have actual emotions?"

"Because I don't have any," Angel said dryly. You have more than enough for the both of us. "And it's useless anyway. We've tried everything. They'll let us out when they feel like it."

"'When they feel like it,' Spike repeated bitterly. "Sure sounds promising, doesn't it? I just wish I knew who the bastards were. It has to be someone or a group exacting revenge on us. Or on one of us. But it could be anyone behind it. Could be bloody Xander, for all I know. And he's not even nearby." Spike grimaced. "If only it wasn't you I was stuck with. Maybe someone who'd know what to do. Someone stronger and more reliable. Someone smarter."

A particularly nasty itch overwhelmed Angel, and he raked his nails along his right arm leaving red scratches on it. That was it. He couldn't take it anymore.

Angel turned away from Spike so he could have some privacy, rolled his right sleeve up and didn't even hesitate to take a bite out of his forearm. All it took was tiny sips of his own blood for relief to wash over him like a tidal wave. It felt so good to have even the slightest satisfaction after being devoid of anything but agitation.

Agitation and Spike.

"Don't act like I'm an arse for bringing her up. She's on both of our minds. I still love her, you know. Just like you do."

Angel focused on the taste of blood, ignoring Spike. Even as he drank, his stomach growled as though it was telling him he shouldn't feel too excited; his hunger wouldn't be completely sated unless he drank a lot. Which he probably couldn't afford to do, as weak as he already felt. They could get into a fight at any second, if the door did happen to open. As Angel drank slowly with his back turned, he could feel Spike watching him with his predatory eyes.

"She's stronger than both of us combined. She'd probably be able to break the bloody door down with a few hard kicks."

Angel shut his eyes as he drank just a little faster, hoping it would get rid of his headache. He needed this relief from physical pain, at the very least.

"You probably wish she was here so you could shag away your worries," Spike said under his breath.

Angel stopped abruptly and pulled back, sliding his fangs out of his arm. Turned towards Spike, who looked at him curiously. Before he knew what he was doing, Angel lunged at Spike and slapped him. The slap was so hard and so resounding he swore he could hear it echoing off the walls of the room for several seconds. A bright red mark spread on Spike's right cheek as he fell against the wall behind him. He placed a hand on his cheek and glared at Angel.

"Are you off your rocker? The hell was that for?" Spike rubbed at his cheek and shifted his jaw. "Bloody hell...that hurt, you arsehole."

"Good," Angel said as he walked back to his place at the opposite wall and sat down. "You got what you wanted." He'd been trying to control himself, to keep from losing his cool. But what Spike had said had gotten under his skin. It made him not only feel angry at Spike, but also made him feel even worse about himself. He wondered briefly what Buffy would do if she was here.

She'd probably order Spike to turn around and face the wall.

"And you know me so bloody well, don't you?" Spike said sarcastically, massaging his jaw. "I don't know how you can live the way you are. Pining endlessly. You'll tell me you don't, but I can tell that you do. You still want her."

"Shut up, Spike."

Spike stopped massaging his jaw and glowered at Angel. "You'll never have her either way. All I'm saying is you need to accept it. Accept it and-"

"Well, at least I have you, don't I?" Angel snarked. Spike was bringing out the worst in him and he was making Angel hate himself as well. He'd be more careful from now on if they actually did get out. More wary.

"You have me, alright," Spike muttered. "And I have you. And we're bloody worse off for it."

"Cheers to that."

They sat quietly for a few minutes. Angel felt like he was still a little thirsty, and that made him even more irritable. He hated drinking from himself. Or even from anyone else. It made him feel like an animal. Reawakened parts of himself that he preferred to keep dormant.

The silence was welcome, though. He almost felt like he could hear the camera up on the wall beeping, it was so quiet. He considered going back to sleep before Spike interrupted his thoughts.

"I hate feeling like this," Spike said. "Weak. Hopeless."

Angel frowned at the unexpected admission. It took him a little bit to fully absorb what Spike was saying. After all the hostility it was a random thing to say. Angel's frown deepened as he tried not to show that he'd been affected by what Spike was saying. Because It was unlike Spike to ever expose himself. Especially when he was angry. Then again, perhaps he'd finally exhausted himself.

"I wish…" Spike began, waited a little before continuing. "I wish sometimes that I could be calmer. More in control of my emotions. Think before I speak. Because I feel bad about it right after. The regret washes over me and I feel a tad silly."

"I'm sure you do."

"I'm being serious here," Spike said indignantly. "What I'm trying to say is that I feel bad about it sometimes. And you know what scares me the most? Being buried alive."

Angel pursed his lips as he still was fuming silently. He didn't want to talk to Spike, to make him feel better right now. But as much as Angel hated to admit it, he couldn't completely hate the guy after what he'd done to Angel in the past. And they'd been through so much together that a small spot was reserved in his heart just for Spike. Angel sighed as he relented. "Meditation is good for that. Leaves a cloudy feeling in you, taking the anxiety away."

Spike looked at him, seemed to consider this. He smiled bitterly. "Really...I guess you can be smart after all," he said. Spike seemed like he was being serious.

Angel chose to ignore the jab as he trembled a little and felt his arm itch again. "Aren't you thirsty?" he asked.

"Thirst doesn't bother me much," Spike said. "I can keep from feeling the side effects for at least a day or so. Not sure why. Maybe just built different," he added smugly.

"...Oh." Angel wasn't sure why he hadn't considered that possibility.

He shifted a little as he tried to focus his mind elsewhere and not on his itching arm, staring at a space on the wall in front of him, even though it was all just pure white. But the longer he looked at it, the more nauseous he felt, so he had to look back at Spike again. Spike who had been looking at him the entire time. Hair stood up on the back of Angel's neck. It wasn't just that he hated being stared at, but it was the way he was looking at him.

Curiously.

"You still draw, don't you, Angel?"

It was such a bizarre question after all they'd talked about that Angel only gaped at him. Regaining his composure, he ran a hand through his hair and cursed inwardly. He was not in the mood to have an actual discussion about his hobby. But something kept him from giving Spike the silent treatment, and he relented. "Yeah. Sometimes."

"What have you been drawing lately? Portraits?"

"Mostly," Angel said. "Some landscapes, too."

"That's nice. You should show me sometime. When we're out of here."

Spike sounded pretty optimistic. It did little to make Angel feel better, but it was still nice to hear. He wondered if he could somehow be more positive and uplifting. Especially since Spike needed him now and it might help their morale overall as well, if they hoped to escape somehow.

Angel's stomach suddenly growled loudly, making him tense up as Spike chuckled.

"Thirsty as hell, aren't you? I can hear it all the way from over here."

Knowing Spike could hear Angel's stomach growling made him blush. He tightened the muscles around his stomach reflexively, as though that might keep his stomach from protesting. He almost felt like Spike could hear the thoughts inside his head if he concentrated hard enough. It was unnerving. And it was all because the room was so damn quiet.

He noticed Spike was looking at him again, a glint in his eye.

"Why don't you have long hair anymore? It looked good on you."

Angel rolled his eyes. "That was a long time ago," he said.

"Yes. I know. But I liked it."

"And I like having short hair."

"Why?"

"Less maintenance."

"I guess that makes sense."

Angel laughed incredulously.

"What?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Spike looked indignant but also a little embarrassed.

"Because," Angel said simply. "And you talk too much." Not only that, but it was the things he was saying. He was trying to bond with him, but Angel wasn't sure if he wanted that right now. Especially since Spike would probably turn on him as soon as pressure mounted once again and he felt the need to launch into another pointless tirade.

"And you talk too little," Spike retorted. "The Great Forehead could stand to loosen his tongue every once in a while. Say what he really feels." His eyes bore into Angel's, scrutinizing him as though he were attempting to unveil the slightest weakness. Normally strong and secure, Angel felt himself waver in his attempt to appear rigid and unaffected. He felt the emotion expose itself in his eyes and he had to look away. It was that predatory look again, getting under his skin, undoing him.

"I feel like...you talk too much, Spike," Angel repeated dumbly, not knowing what else to say. His face felt hot; he was ashamed of his childish retort. He wished he'd said something more clever. Still, he stared right back at Spike, as though he were trying to prove something. And he didn't like when Spike was so involved in his private life. Before he could stop himself, he said, "And I'm not the good-looking one. You are."

Spike arched an eyebrow. "Me? Really? Didn't know you felt that way, mate."

"Don't get too excited," Angel said. "It's the crazy talking. From being stuck here with you."

"Right." Spike's lips curved into a knowing smile. His eyes wandered from Angel's eyes down his face, traveling all the way down his chest. Realizing what Spike was doing was strangely thrilling and his friend had never been so alluring. But it also felt wrong and made him shiver. This time not from blood withdrawal.

Angel had to look away from Spike's fiery eyes. They were boring into him, piercing what was delicate. Spike was so good at making him feel unsettled, as though he were laid bare right before him. Something few others were able to do...not even Buffy. The longer they spent in the room, the more he felt himself unraveling, falling apart.

Shattering.

The emotions were powerful, vibrating deep within Angel. He wasn't sure what was happening. Why was he feeling this way all of a sudden? Why did he feel some nervousness around Spike? Something was cracking in his psyche and he felt like he was on the verge of saying something stupid. Maybe something nice about Spike in return, besides him being good-looking. Like how he wanted to hear some of his latest poetry, how he liked him best when he was a little wild and crazy.

How he actually really liked him, glaring flaws and all.

Somehow, inexplicably, Angel was drawn back towards Spike, looking at him again. Spike was distracted as he examined his fingernails, but Angel cleared his throat loudly, making Spike look up at him and scowl.

Angel knew his heart would be pounding rapidly right now if it could still beat in his chest. As he shifted closer to Spike, sat right in front of him, he peered into his annoyed eyes. Tried to see past the annoyance...sought the tiniest crumb of encouragement. To his relief, Spike's animosity slowly melted into great interest, as Spike appeared to be excited by this new development. They were sitting so close to each other that Angel noticed a stray eyelash resting on Spike's cheek. Spike's lips were dry and chapped and bristly brown hairs were coming in on his face.

Angel wet his lips unconsciously as Spike's eyes twinkled in response. Angel took this as his cue to lean forward, shutting his eyes. He gently pressed his lips against Spike's. Spike's dry lips brushed against his own smooth ones, scraping them softly. Angel laid a hand against the back of Spike's head, grasping a tuft of his platinum hair. The kiss only lasted a few seconds, but it left Angel feeling replenished—even more than he had been after drinking blood earlier. Leaning back, he felt slightly dazed, in shock that he'd done it. He'd actually done it.

He'd kissed Spike.

Spike smiled at him knowingly. A charming, cunning smile.

And Angel smiled faintly in return.