What Was Lost

by SpikesKat

Chapter 2

It took everything in Angel not to react once he noticed the amulet Fred held in her hands. 

“Where did you get that?” he asked; his throat ached with the need to shout. 

“It’s the weirdest thing,” Fred began. “It came by special courier straight to the lab. I had to sign for it, which I thought was strange, because, we have our own mailroom, don’t we? Wouldn’t all the mail just be routed through there? Anyway, I signed for it. When I opened the package, this was inside. But that’s not all. This… vampire, at least I’m pretty sure it was a vampire, seemed to materialize out of the thing. I thought it was going to eat me, or kill me, or—” 

“A vampire?” Angel interrupted. “What did it look like?” 

“He looked awful, Angel. His skin was burned to the bone in several places. I… I almost felt bad for it. Him. It was definitely a him. He had to have been in pain. I asked him that, I think.” 

“What happened? Where did he go?” 

“I don’t know. He just took off. I tried to stop him, but he wouldn't listen. So, I grabbed this and came up here. Uh… Angel, is this going to happen a lot? Demons mystically appearing out of objects? If so, I want to put in for a transfer. I mean, science is my thing, but I just— Angel?” 

But Angel wasn’t listening to her as he vaulted over his desk and ran from his office. If he hurried, the faint trace of Spike – at least he was pretty sure it was Spike – would still be lingering in the air, just enough to enable him to track the vampire. 

~*~ 

An hour later, the trail ended in a deserted alley; the sight that greeted Angel was nearly enough to make him lose the blood he’d consumed a few hours before. Spike was huddled in the corner, a dead rat dangling from his mouth. Like Fred had told him, there were several spots on his body that bone was clearly evident, his clothes hung off his skeletal frame like tattered rags. One whole side of his face was charred black and Angel winced at the pain his childe must obviously be feeling. Spike needed blood, lots of it given the severity of his injuries. 

“Spike?” Angel called out. “Spike? It’s me. Angel. William—?” 

“Go away!” 

“Spike… William… you’re hurt. Let me help you.” Angel took a few steps closer, only to stop when Spike huddled in on himself even more. “Spike…” 

“Leave me alone!” 

“Spike, I just want to help. You’re hurt pretty bad. You need blood. Something a little stronger than that rat.” 

“You want to help me? Me?” Spike laughed, tossing the rat aside. “I think you’ve done enough, Sire,” he sneered. He climbed clumsily to his feet, swaying slightly from weakness and pain. Bared his fangs when Angel moved to help him again. “No! Stay away.” 

“Spike,” Angel cajoled. “Let me just—” 

“No!” Spike started forward intent on pushing past his grandsire and striding from the alley, but what little adrenaline and anger that had gotten him to where he was gave out and he ended up crashing into Angel when the last of his energy evaporated. Angel, who easily caught him up in his arms with far more gentleness than he’d ever exhibited in the past. 

“I’ll take you back to the hotel,” Angel murmured as he started out of the alley. Thinking to cheer Spike up some, he added, “Buffy’s there. So are the others. They’ll be happy to see you and can look after you while I round up some blood.”  

Which was why Angel was shocked when Spike began to struggle in his arms, forcing him to tighten his hold, injuries be damned, or risk dropping him. “What is it? What’s wrong?” 

“No! No Buffy. No— let me go!” 

Spike was nearly frantic in his denial and Angel did the only thing he could think of. He agreed. “Okay! Okay. No Buffy. Just… just calm down, alright? Spike?” 

Spike didn’t answer him, but he did stop trying to get free, and Angel took that as a sign of his agreement. He stepped onto the sidewalk, all but deserted given the late hour, and immediately spied a low-budget motel a few blocks away. Breathing a sigh of relief, Angel hurried forward, intent on getting off the streets and away from prying eyes. 

Once inside the room, Angel carefully set Spike down on the bed and made quick work of stripping him out of his clothes… and struggled not to gag. Devoid of shirt and jeans, it was all too apparent how badly off Spike really was; it was a wonder the vamp was even alive, seeing first hand the damage that had been done. He settled the covers carefully around Spike and told him, “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I’m just gonna get you some blood. Stay here.” 

Spike cracked one eye and eyed his clothes balled in Angel’s hands. Pain made it difficult to draw breath into his lungs in order to get the words out, but he managed a, “Got my bloody kit, wanker. Where do you think I’m gonna go?”  

“Just a little insurance policy, though I wouldn’t put it past you to dart out of here without a stitch on. Can I trust you to stay put?” 

Spike nodded wearily and closed his eye once more and Angel took that as his cue to leave.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

Angel broke into the local blood bank – it was either that or round up half a dozen humans and offer them up on a proverbial platter to Spike. He could feel his demon battling against his cage to do it and to hell with the consequences.  

Only Spike, and him having his own soul and not likely to feed from the source, kept Angel from doing just that. Made him concentrate all his efforts on breaking into the building and gathering as many blood bags as he could carry. 

He moved swiftly through the deserted hallways, letting his senses guide him to where the blood was being stored. The refrigerators were kept behind a locked door, and Angel easily broke the lock with nothing more than a harsh twist of the knob. He upended a plastic trashcan sitting at the end of the steel countertop and used it to carry the packets that were hanging from racks in pristine little rows, separated by blood type, just waiting for him to grab. By the time he was finished, he’d cleared out one whole refrigerator and a good portion of a second – enough blood to last Spike several days. 

The trip back was a bit more difficult given the loaded trash can he carried. He received looks from a few less savory characters loitering about on a couple of the street corners along the way, but a growl or two and a flash of amber eyes had them shrinking back into the shadows and minding their business.  

When he opened the door, Angel half expected Spike to have bolted and the room to be empty, no matter that he’d taken his clothes. He let out a sigh of relief that Spike was, indeed, still inside and huddled beneath the blankets fast asleep.   

“I got you some blood,” he announced as he set the trash can down on the dresser.  

Spike didn’t move, however, causing Angel to frown.  

“Spike? Hey… wake up. I’ve got blood.” 

It wasn’t like Spike not to rouse at the first hint of blood. Angel grabbed two packets, walked around the bed, and knelt down so he was on eye level with Spike. Amber eyes stared back at Angel but didn’t see him. Even dangling the blood bags in front of Spike did nothing to break him out of whatever trance he seemed to be in. 

“Always gotta do things the hard way,” Angel grumbled before he vamped and tore into the packets himself, guzzling them down one by one in quick succession. Then he slashed his wrist and held it to Spike’s lips. “Don’t think I’m gonna make a habit of this,” he muttered even as Spike’s mouth closed around the self-inflicted wound and began to suckle.  

Angel let Spike feed far longer than he probably should have, until the point where he was almost woozy from blood loss. It was only when he felt on the verge of passing out that Angel yanked his arm away. He glanced at Spike as he fell back and slumped against the wall. Spike was staring at him with eyes now gone blue, eyes filled with anger and pain… and so much hurt.  

Betrayal. 

“This changes nothing,” Spike told him, his voice only slightly less hoarse than before. 

His eyes closed then, and Angel exhaled a shaky breath, crawled wearily back to the dresser so he could consume more blood for himself. He struggled to the bed adjacent to Spike’s and collapsed on top of the covers, closed his eyes and slept.  

~*~*~*~*~ 

When he woke, sometime mid-morning, Angel knew right away that he was alone. The comforter was gone, as was the blood he’d acquired. With nothing else to do – Spike was probably long gone, and the trail cold – Angel called the Hyperion.  

“Hello,” Wesley answered. 

“Wesley, it’s—” 

“Angel! Where are you? Fred said—” 

“I’m fine. It’s nothing. I was following up on a lead for a case.” 

“A case? But Fred—” 

“Wes, I told you… It’s nothing. Just… Look. I’ll meet you at the office after dark.” Angel paused for a minute, debating on whether or not to ask if anyone else had noticed his absence. “Did… uh… that is… never mind. I’ll… uh… see you tonight.” 

He hung up with Wesley’s protestations sounding through the line. With nothing to do until the sun set, Angel lay back upon the mattress and tried to get a few more hours’ sleep.

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