Wolfram & Hart

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Summary: Spike helps Angel deal with it… that’s not dirty.

AUTHOR: Inca
EMAIL: slasherphiles@yahoo.com
WEBSITE: http://www.geocities.com/slasherphiles/
RATING: PG-13
PAIRING: Spike/Angel
SPOILERS: Ooohh, I can actually answer this for once. Series 5 post Destiny - after Spike becomes corporeal and uh, I cant remember it Angel actually has a conference room attached to his office, but he did in ‘Home’ and I thought it was cool.
DISCLAIMER: They don't belong to me, I just like to play with them.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: My first story as a non-student… and actually I think it’s my first story with no smut. And, and, and, it has a kind of plot. A psuedo plot. Although I have seen both ‘Love actually’ and ‘Something’s gotta give’ in the last month so… may be a little romantically warped right now.
Oh and ~ ### ~ = Spikes thoughts
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

‘I’m bored.’

Silence responded to this critical observation. Spike leant back in the soft leather of Angel’s showy-and-expensive office chairs, and propped his booted feet on the conference room table.

He glanced at Angel, head bowed to read the books in front of him. Inert as a statue, Spike could just see his face through the strenuous topography of research materials on the desk.

He waited.

~ No response ~

He tried again.

‘I said I’m– ‘

‘I heard you the first time, Spike’

Spike let his head drop to the chair-back and gazed at the ceiling. He fumbled his hand into his coat pocket and pulled out a pack of cigarettes and shook one out. He shoved his hand into his jeans pocket to pull out his lighter.

‘You know you can’t smoke in here, Spike’

~ Bloody bastard didn’t even look up. ~

He sighed and pegged his unlit cig onto the book Angel was engrossed in, rolling his eyes as the older vampire calmly brushed it onto the ground like it was no more than a speck of dirt.

Silence, occasionally broken by the sounds of page turning.

Spike could never get used to this. Punching a clock, answering to people, being responsible for a business.

Spike got up and walked across the indulgent carpeting to the huge wall of windows in Angels 10th floor office.

The multitude of bright lights stood out against the inky blackness that was 12am L.A. He stood with the toes of his Docs right up against the glass, and leant his forehead against the window. He grinned at the vertigo that washed over him as he looked down past the 9 floors below, to the street with tiny ant people strolling about their lives.

Since becoming corporeal, Spike had tried many times, to get his long suffering Sire, to the window, to enjoy the sensation, but he’d never assented, simply sighed, or looked wary or smiled, confused at what Spike was doing.

Spike was brought back from his daydream-at-night, by the sound of page turning. He returned to the conference room and slumped back into the chair.

‘You really should try the window.’

Silence.

‘Its great, if I had an office, that’s what I’d do all day.’

Angel frowned at a page, flicked back a few, then traded the book for another, trying not to acknowledge the presence of a black leather clad punk vampire seated across from him.

Spike tapped his fingernails against the gleaming oak of the conference table.

Tap tap-tap-tap tap. Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

Angel glanced up at him. He cocked his eyebrow.

Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

Eyebrow cock and hold. ‘Spike.’

‘Yes?’ Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

‘Do you mind?’

‘Nup’ Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

‘Stop it. I’m trying to research.’

Tap tap-tap-tap tap. Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

‘Spike!’

‘Why are you researching anyway? Can’t the ‘head boy’ do it?’

‘Wesley’s out talking to his contacts.’

‘Pfft, he never turns up anything. Are you sure he even has contacts? Maybe whenever he says he’s going to see his contacts, he just slips up to the pub for an hour or five, and comes back saying ‘oh, sorry Angel, no luck’’

‘I’ve met some of his contacts’ Angel turned back to his research.

‘Are you sure they weren’t actors?’

Angel turned the page of his book in reply.

Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

Tap tap-tap-tap tap.

‘What are you researching anyway?’

Angel shot him a quizzical look.

‘Why do you care?’

‘What, is it a big secret?’

‘No, but why do you care?’ Angel asked, his gaze flicking down to frown at Spike’s boots on the table.

‘Cause I’m bored!’

‘Well amuse yourself by removing your boots from my desk’

Spike smirked. ‘Make me.’

‘Spike, they’re gross.’ He eyed off the crud stuck to the bottom of his docs.

He grinned at Angel’s distress, and lifted one boot off the table, slowly, only to slam it back down, effectively knocking books and research papers to the floor and also dislodging the questionable matter from his boots to the desk in one fell swoop.

Angel tried to placidly return to reading, but the *thwomp* of Spikes other boot hitting the table jarred his nerves once more.

He took a deep, if unneeded, breath through his nose.

Angel was always stressed out these days. Spike had a theory, that Angel was like pressure building up in a boiler. It just built up and up, until it was released, then it was fine again.

So Spike just had to irritate Angel until he exploded, and then he wouldn’t be so anal about every little thing.

~ Well, just a theory, might just end up with an extremely brassed off Sire to contend with, actually ~

Spike shrugged it off and congratulated himself on being so caring.

‘So?’ Spike clicked his fingernails together, noticing the distinct lack of black paint. He made a mental note to acquire some more. He quite liked it.

He smiled at the obvious tension in Angel’s voice as he cautiously replied with; ‘So, what?’

‘So, what are you researching?’ Spike answered calmly, slowly, like he was talking to a slow child.

‘Thracklis demons.’

Spike raised his eyebrows. ‘What’s that?’

‘You won’t be interested by it.’ Angel looked across the table at the blonde, who was just staring at him. He sighed, a long, suffering, ‘why me?’ sigh. ‘ Thracklis demons live in damp, dark places, like sewers, near large bodies of water. They’re big, have three hands with 5 opposable claws and they– ‘

‘BORING!’ he interrupted.

Spike chuckled at the intense look of anger etched into Angel’s features. Caveman brow all scrunched up. Angel returned to his book, although the page turning was notably quicker and more violent than before.

Spike waited, spinning a little in his chair.

‘So why are you researching these Thwackers?’

‘Thracklis. They’ve been attacking dock workers for about a month, picking them off– ‘

‘A month? And where have you been? Sitting in your ivory tower, while the Thwackers have been having innocent people’s guts for garters? Great going, loser.’

Extreme martyr sigh.

Spike rolled his eyes at it.

‘Look, Spike, if you don’t wanna be here, go. Cause I don’t want you here. You’re extremely irritating.’

Spike leant back to study his effect on the older vampire. Angel looked very irritated. And tired. Spike cocked his head to the side, appraising Angel like an artwork. Irritated, yes, tired, yes, but also–

‘You’re a good looking bloke, you know?’

And now he looked scared.

Spike smirked as he watched Angel, brown eyes darting over the room, trying to find the criticism in the comment.

After a long while, apparently no criticism to be found, Angel tentatively rested his gaze on Spikes face.

‘uh… thanks.’

‘So, why do you wanna help the docking company anyway?’

Angel looked up, confused at the abrubt change of subject.

‘I didn’t say anything about docking companies. I said workers were being killed.’

‘I know, I was talking to Gunn earlier.’

‘Gunn?’ he asked sharply, ‘What did he say?’

Spike toyed with the pages of one of the books on the table.

‘Well, ya know, yelled at me about being in his office without permission, blah, you had no right to touch my things exclamation point, yada, get out, wrath, anuerysm, etc.’

He dragged his finger along the page, feeling the ink ever so slightly stand out from the parchment.

‘And…?’ Spike had his full attention now.

‘And what, you bloody poof?’

Angel clenched his eyes shut, opened them, looked to the ceiling for a respite, and continued the conversation.

‘What did he say about me wanting to help the dock owners?’

Spike stared at him and slowly raised an eyebrow.

‘He said ‘Angel wants to help the dock company owners’.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Yeah.’

He looked at Angel. He looked like he was contemplating what Spike had just said. He looked–

~ unsettled ~

Spike squinted at him as if it would help him figure out what was wrong.

Angel, uneasy from the scrutiny, picked his huge tome up and placed it so Spike couldn’t see him.

‘What, You upset me and Charlie have a bit of a bond happening?’

No answer. Spike got up and moved to sit on the desk next to Angel’s book.

‘Not that I care, but anything wrong with you, mate? Apart from the obvious?’

Angel snorted. ‘Why would you care if there was?’

‘I just said I didn’t, but if something’s happening that may relieve me from my boredom, I’d like to know.’

Angel stared hard at the book in front of him for a long while before he spoke.

‘Freeman Docking Services Ltd.’

‘Oh right, I get it, and also, what?’

‘That’s the company that brought the Thracklis demons to our attention. There’s an old nest in a sewer port right near their company. The demons have since moved, but there still close by. Wesley’s talking to contacts that might know where they are.’

‘And this is upsetting you because…you don’t like docking companies?’

Angel went back to reading his book. Spike watched him for a moment, then suddenly picked the book up and tossed it over the table.

‘I was reading that.’ Angel looked up at Spike, perching on his desk, blue eyes curious as they fixed on his face.

‘Freeman Docking Services Ltd is a front company that, for one thing, illegally imports immigrants. It then sells them off as slave labourers and prostitutes. Its owner is a mogul named Drederick Freeman who has been arrested, but never tried, for assault, investment fraud, and the arson of one of his companies, which, when it burnt down, had 63 workers inside.’

Spike stared at him.

‘So?’

‘This is the case I’m working on. I’m going to help this man.’

‘So? Thracklis demons are bad right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, just pretend that this Freeman guy didn’t bring the case to you.’

‘But he did.’

‘Well get rid of the evil demons, then get rid of the evil company.’

~ This is very simple, really ~

Angel leant back in his chair. He looked tired, his eyes looked old, and his mouth, instead of sitting in the straight hard line Spike had always remembered, now dipped at the corners.

‘I cant’ he answered, ‘They’re a big client. I have to keep them happy.’

‘Why?’

Angel paused and opened his mouth like he was going to say something, when the ringing phone interrupted him.

‘Hello? Wesley? You find anything?’

Spike dropped back to lie across the table, feeling a book digging into his spine, and not caring.

Angel always took things so seriously. Spike had a soul now too, but he didn’t feel that different with it. He knew not to kill anymore, that didn’t hold the same appeal to him that it once did, but he wouldn’t label himself as unhappy. He turned his head to scrutinise his Sire again.

Angel was holding the slimline phone up to his ear with one hand, and pinching the bridge of his nose with the other. He was simply nodding wearily at whatever instruction Wesley was giving him, not having enough energy to consider that he was on a phone and therefore silent gestures had no effect.

He hung the phone up without saying goodbye, and stood up, looking around, undoubtedly, for his coat.

‘We going to fight the Twackers?’

‘I am going to fight the Thracklis demons, yes’

Angel found his coat, slipped into it, and started out the door. Spike followed.

‘Stay here.’

Spike grinned, he liked this game.

‘Make me.’

Angel glared at him. ‘Go home Spike.’

Spike snorted.

‘Don’t give me that ‘Your Sire commands you’ jazz, don’t work anymore.’

Angel, exasperated, turned on his heel and strode out. Spike followed.

*****

‘Look, you kill demons that are evil, right? You killed those Thwackers.’

Angel nodded, albeit, wearily.

‘Well, I don’t get it then, why didn’t you kill that Freeman guy?’

The elevator doors slid open with a ding, the vampires stepped back into Angel’s dark office.

‘Because he’s not a demon, he’s a human.’

‘And you really believe that humans cant be every bit as evil as a demon?’

Angel sighed for the 53rd time that hour, and turned to face him.

‘I don’t kill humans.’

‘Well, why don’t you kill evil ones?’

‘Because evil humans are still humans. And I don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.’

‘You’re not God.’ Spike agreed.

‘Exactly.’

‘Well you shouldn’t be killing anything then, should you?’

‘Well evil humans can go to jail. Evil demons can’t.’

Spike looked at him, his ‘whatever’ face in play, it didn’t matter, even Angel could see the holes in his logic.

‘And you really think that humans like Freeman are going to jail?’ Spike asked, ‘No they aren’t, that’s why they have you.’

‘I’m not going to kill them if that’s what you mean.’ Angel retorted.

‘I meant, they have you to keep them out of jail.’

Angel looked so distressed at that remark, Spike felt sorry for him.

‘Okay, it’s a blurry line.’ He said, back-pedalling, ‘Its hard to decide which humans are really evil, some demons are just pure evil, born that way.’ Spike acquiesced, as a way of apology.

Angel nodded stiffly and made his way over to the desk. He picked up the phone, and dialled.

‘Wes? Yeah, the Thracklis were there.’

Spike wandered over to the hallway door. He reached over to flick the lights on, paused, looked at his Sire, and dropped the hand.

‘There were four of them’ Angel paused in his conversation, gritting his teeth ‘Well, we won didn’t we?’

He hung up the phone, and slumped into his chair, gaze fixed loosely on the wall.

‘Doesn’t look like you did.’

‘Huh?’ his eyes snapped back into focus.

Spike settled himself in the chair seated in front of Angel’s penis extension of a desk, and continued.

‘Well you just killed off the evil dock-worker-eating Thwackers’, he paused at Angel’s eye roll,’ and you look like you’ve been beat six ways from Sunday.’

‘I don’t need to celebrate every demon I kill.’

‘Yeah, but you should at least be a little happy about it.’

Angel slumped further in his chair.

~ Cor, he’s such a little kid sometimes! ~

Spike rolled his eyes. And made a mental note for tomorrow, to count all the eye rolls that take place in a regular conversation between the two vampires.

‘I don’t have to be happy, I just do it.’

Spike blanched at the logic behind that comment, ‘Why?’

‘Why? Why? Because that’s what people do, and don’t point out I’m not a person, it doesn’t matter. You can’t just go around doing only the things you want, all the time.’ Angel stood up and came round to the front of the desk to stand in front of Spike as he speechified.

‘I do.’

‘Well you’re selfish.’

Spike grinned up at him. A huge, amused, roguish smile filled with pride.

‘Yeah, you got me pegged there.’ He commented as he stood up also.

Silence fell between them.

‘Why are you here then? You thought you could use the big law firm to your advantage? I know you’re not that stupid.’

‘I had to do it, I bargained for it.’ Angel looked inexplicably sad at this comment.

Spike leaned forward.

‘What did you get for it?’

Angel smiled, weakly. The smile looked sad, and …defeated. Spike was alarmed, he had never seen that smile cross his Sires’ face.

‘Actually, I didn’t get anything for it.’

Spike took this in.

‘That sounds like a shit deal.’

Angel laughed, a laugh that matched the sad smile.

‘Yeah.’

‘So whatever you didn’t get… is that why you look all stressed and tired all the time?’

‘Why do you care?’

‘Why do you keep asking that?’

Angel looked at him with baffled amusement.

‘Cause I’m not you, and you don’t care about anyone, but you.’

‘Oh come on, you slouch around the office, hangdog expression tattooed to your face, maybe I’m just sick of it.’

Angel raised his eyebrows. They stared.

Pause.

‘Its weird, you’re so different from Angelus.’

‘Well… yeah.’ Angel said, in a ‘well, duh’ voice.

‘What? I’m not that different. I still dress the same. Still like the same things.’

‘I still like some of the things I liked as Angelus.’ He thought for a moment, ‘ Ballet.’

Spike snorted.

~ I hate ballet ~

‘I hate ballet.’

‘I remember. But it doesn’t matter, I’m glad, I don’t want to be anything like him.’

‘I don’t know, he had good points.’

Angel looked up sharply.

‘He did!’ Spike insisted.

‘Like what?!’

‘Well at least Angelus was happy. That bastard knew how to have a good time. You wouldn’t know a good time if it ran its frisky hand down the back of your boxers and stuck its tongue in your ear.’

Angel smirked, ‘Well that’s kind of the point, isn’t it? That I’m not meant to be happy. That’s why I’m here.’

Pause.

‘Then why am I here?’ Spike asked him, grinning.

Angel turned, and looked at him. His face was a picture of confusion, he stared at Spike like he’d just been asked what position he deflowered Buffy in.

~ Well, its not really hard to figure. ~

Angel stared at him a while longer, eyes darting from side to side, thinking how best to prove his deep seated belief that he should be miserable, day in, day out.

~ Well night in, night out. ~

The brunette opened his mouth. Closed it.

Pause.

Repeat.

Finally, ‘You’re not unhappy? …like this… in this life…with all you’ve done?’ Angel stumbled over the words, ‘You’re not, …I mean… it could… you’re happy?’

Spike squinted his eyes in thought, and answered truthfully.

‘Yep.’

Angel stared at him.

‘Not guilty?’

‘Not really.’

Angel slowly leant back against his desk, looking dumb founded.

Spike grinned smugly at the hulking poofter for a few moments, before hopping up on the desk beside him.

He pulled a cig out of his pocket and played with it while he talked.

‘Look, the way I see it, is I feel bad all those people died, and I’d do anything to take it back, for that not to happen, but it wasn’t me. I mean it was me, but not, me, me.’ Spike put the cig in his mouth, ‘Id never do that now, so I see what happened then, and what I do now, as two completely different things.’

They both gazed out the window, as Angel gathered his thoughts.

‘Well, I do. I feel guilty.’

Spike snorted at the petulance in the old vampires voice.

‘Well you’re not me, are you?’ Spike observed and added under his breath, ‘good thing, too.’

Angel missed the last part, and frowned in consideration.

‘I mean,’ he started, ’I know what happened then was Angelus, and not me, … but I still feel… guilty. I thought I had reason, but now, with you here … maybe I– ‘

‘Okay, bloody well wait a second,’ Spike butted in, incredulous, ‘Now youre feelin’ guilty about… feelin’ guilty?’

Angel stared down at his hands, and picked his nails.

Spike lit the cigarette as he counted down, waiting for what he knew was coming…

~ 5,4,3,2,1… ~

Angel heaved a long-suffering sigh.

~ Ta-da ~

‘Look mate, you just need to lighten up a bit. Loosen up a bit.’

Angel looked at him, alarmed.

‘Is this the part where you offer me a back massage and then bend me over the table?’

Spike wrenched the cig from his mouth and laughed, long and loud.

‘Do you have the Playboy Channel in that penthouse of yours?’

‘Yes, but I don’t watch it’ Angel retorted indignantly.

‘Of course you don’t, no, not shagging, just…’ he slithered off the desk and walked to the window.

‘This’ he finished.

Angel squinched his face up ‘No Spike, not with the window again– ‘

Spike tutted at him and made ‘come ‘ere’ gestures with his hands.

He leant his forehead against the glass and laughed as he welcomed the rush of vertigo.

Angel grumped off the desk and over to stand beside the blonde.

Spike, without taking his forehead off the glass or his eyes off the view, twined his fingers into Angel’s and pulled his closer to his place at the window.

‘Come on’ Spike whispered.

Angel gingerly stepped up to the window, his polished Gucci work shoes lined up with scuffed black Docs.

He closed his eyes and slowly rested his forehead on the glass.

‘Isn’t this great?!’ the blonde intoned.

Angel opened his eyes and all he could see was the inky black night dotted with the bright fairy lights that was the man made brilliance of night in Los Angeles.

When he looked down, the tips of his shoes were just visible above a dizzying 9 floors of Wolfram and Harts’ concrete tower.

Tiny cars zoomed along grey line streets, tiny people walked past tiny green squares of park, and the dark office behind him made him feel like he was floating, and it was unexpectantly, and extraordinarily calming.

It was like meditation or prayer or Tai Chi.

He could see Spikes pale hand pressed flat against the darkness, next to his own, and could just glimpse Spikes’ face with his nose pressed against the glass.

‘You like?’ Spike asked after a while.

‘Its amazing’ he smiled, ’its really… amazing.’

‘Yeah, its pretty neat.’

Spike turned his head, his temple resting against the glass, so he could watch his Sire.

Angel had his mouth open slightly, as his brown eyes flicked to settle his gaze on different things in the view.

‘I never really stopped to look.’

‘Well you got your reasons for coming here,’ Spike noticed Angels wince at these words and slung his arm round Angel’s waist, ‘you may as well enjoy some things.’

Angel tensed for a moment, then relaxed, almost bonelessly.

They stood for a while.

‘I feel better now’ Angel offered, hesitantly, not knowing if he’d overstepped any boundaries by saying it.

‘Of course you do, ducks, I’m here.’

Angel chuckled and cautiously leaned back into the loose curve of Spikes arm.

Spike felt the shy, uncertain movement and gripped his Sire tighter, and they stayed, gazing out the window.

~ I could get used to this~

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Inca - slasherphiles@yahoo.com