ROAD TRIP 6
by Maz

Riley remained subdued for the rest of the meal, retreating into his own head, as if trying to come to terms with his continued existence without the rules of the last five years, or maybe attempting to escape from doing just that. When they went back to the van he climbed into the back.

As L.A. began to close around them, Xander took over the navigation. It took a while and a few wrong turns to get to the right neighbourhood, so it was a relief when they finally reached the Hyperion Hotel and pulled up undercover in the old valet parking area with a couple of hours to spare before sunrise. It was even more of a relief when they found that Riley had fallen into a fitful sleep on their mattress. They left him there, climbed out of the van and looked around.

Gazing up at the dark building, Xander asked, "How long ago was it, the last time you saw him?"

Spike grimaced. "Six years. Think he'll have forgotten yet?"

"Doubt it. Any chance he's forgiven?"

"Depends. I don't know what's been going on in his unlife." He looked around, spotted something and headed off along the side of the building. Xander saw a set of ornate wrought iron gates. "I heard bits and bobs over the years. Something big went down, couple of years back. Don't know what. Not like I was looking for news. Just what I heard from demons passing through. Those that knew who he was to me sometimes tried to get pally by passing on snippets, but I never encouraged it."

"D'ye think they know about you and me?" Xander asked, following Spike into the garden. Suddenly he was a little nervous. He continued, whispering now, without waiting for Spike's opinion, "Maybe, if Cordy's still with him. She still has connections in Sunnydale. She phoned Willow a couple of times, but I don't know how well they kept in touch. What did you hear?"

Spike's tone was distracted as he raised his head, sniffing the air. "Not much - 'bout two years ago there was something big down here. Didn't get much detail and what I did hear was pretty confused. Seemed like every rumour contradicted the one before." He paused, as if trying to remember exactly what he had heard. "Something about a Messiah, then it was like that never happened. I heard he turned all corporate and respectable. Then that all fell apart or summat. Lot of demons started clearing out of L.A., 'bout then. Most of them heading as far away as possible. After that, no news at all."

Xander stopped dead, staring at his lover. "Big, apocalypse big? And you never told me?"

Spike dragged him back into motion. "I figured San Francisco was far enough away. Sunnydale was okay, I checked on that. Whatever it was, it was just L.A." Gazing at the doors into the hotel, he took a fortifying breath of unnecessary air. "Well, we're not going to learn anything hanging about in the street. Come on, Luv." Spike slipped an arm around Xander's waist and briefly hugged him before pulling away. "Stay behind me, okay?" He shook his shoulders, straightened his back and marched up the steps, pushing the doors wide with both hands as he strode inside.

Peering over Spike's shoulder, Xander's first thought was that the place looked dead. Then he noticed a faint light coming from a doorway across the room. They were obviously in the lobby of the hotel. The stairs to the upper floors ran up to the right and left of them, while ahead were four steps down to a dark marble floor with some really ugly seating. The reception desk was on the right. By the dim light filtering in from the street it looked cluttered, a place where things were put down and left. Beyond the desk was the door with the light, leading into what Xander guessed was originally the manager's office. Slowly they worked their way across the room towards it - not attempting to hide their approach, but cautious of the shadows around them.

Raising a hand, signalling Xander to stay back, Spike stepped into the open doorway. "Hey, you big lump," he demanded. "What you doing? Anyone could walk in here and you'd be none the wiser. What happened to guarding your perimeter?"

There was a long pause, then Xander heard Angel's voice. He sounded subdued. "Hello, Spike," he said.

Turning back to Xander, Spike nodded and stepped into the room. Xander followed.

Angel sat slumped in his chair behind the huge desk which dominated the room. An almost full bottle of whisky and an empty shot glass stood on the desk before him, but he didn't look like he was drinking. He didn't look like he was doing anything. Angel gazed at Spike, then his eyes flicked to Xander and back to Spike. Pulling himself together, he squared his shoulders and leaned forwards, placing his elbows on the desk. "Long time no see," he observed.

Spike shrugged. "Yeah." He trailed off, as if this apathetic welcome robbed him of words. Glancing at Xander he stepped forwards and dropped into the chair opposite Angel. "Well. What's wrong?" he asked. "No hug? No shouting? No physical violence? Not the welcome I was expecting for your long lost childe."

"What do you want, Spike?" The same weary, resigned voice.

Spike leaned back in the chair. He stared at Angel's face and toned down his approach. "Was just passing. Thought we'd pop in. See the family. Renew the acquaintance, so to speak."

Xander stayed by the door, but taking Spike's cue he also relaxed and leaned against the wall.

"Renew the acquaintance?" Angel observed sceptically. "Why do I believe it's not that simple?"

The question appeared to be rhetorical, which was just as well, since Spike didn't even attempt to answer it. Instead his voice took on an even softer note. "Heard you had some trouble a while ago. How are you, Mate? Where's your gang?"

Angel shrugged, mouth twisting into a bitter smile. "Trouble. Yeah." He paused, taking a deep breath. "There is no gang." He said. "They're all dead."

Xander gasped. "Cordy?" He asked, hesitantly.

Angel raised his eyes to Xander's face. "I'm sorry," he said. "Two years ago. You didn't hear?"

Xander glanced across at Spike, seeking confirmation of the truth of Angel's words, or possibly reassurance that this was also news to Spike. Spike shook his head regretfully. "No, we didn't hear," he said. "We're not exactly in the loop anymore. Don't get the newsletters these days."

Angel's brow furrowed with concern. "Your split from Buffy's group was that bad? I didn't think anything could tear them apart."

Spike laughed cynically. "Long time since you saw them, Mate. They've been through a lot. Torn apart, put back together, then tore themselves apart all over again. They know where we are, but a collective Christmas card's been about the level, 'til recently."

"You shouldn't let it stay like that," Angel said. "Don't leave it until it's too late. You'll regret it later, believe me." He glanced between them again. "I heard about your soul. I heard about you two. Can't say I believed it, but it seems I was wrong. You look good. Both of you."

As he talked, Xander's sense of amazement deepened. This Angel was a totally different vampire from the one he had known in Sunnydale. He was quieter somehow. Not that he had ever talked much. But the expected anger and antagonism were totally lacking. He almost looked... pleased to see them.

Spike and Angel sat silently, staring into each other's eyes. Xander stayed back against the wall, not wanting to interrupt what he sensed was an important, silent communication. Then Angel did something Xander had never thought to see - he smiled. It was a sad smile, but it was definitely a smile. "It's good to see you, Will," he said.

Spike relaxed. "Sire," he acknowledged, and somehow there was a world and a half in that short exchange. "What happened here?" He asked.

Angel groaned and leaned back, bracing himself against the edge of the desk. He looked across at Xander. "Come and sit down," he invited.

Xander looked at Spike, who nodded and raised his arm. Xander stepped forward and sat across Spike’s legs, leaning back to rest against him, facing Angel. Spike's arms circled Xander's chest, hugging him tight.

Angel watched this and nodded, as if it somehow confirmed something for him. He twisted around to the shelf behind him, picking up two more glasses, setting them with the other on the desk and sloshing whisky into all three. He pushed two across the desk, picked up the other and leaned back in his chair. "Tell me about what you've been doing first," he asked. "Then I'll tell you what happened here."

Two hours later most of the bottle was gone, although Xander had drunk little more than half of his first glass. Angel kept his own and Spike's drinks topped up as he listened to an expurgated version of their story - how it had started and what led to their move to San Francisco. In return he told the stories of Darla and Cordelia, of Conner and Jasmine, of the Beast and why they released Angelus and how the gang broke Faith out of prison, of Wolfram & Hart and the final showdown in the alley and of the dragon Angel killed. They heard how Wesley died before the battle and how Iryllia and Faith took out the hordes of the demon army but fell at the end, Iryllia's not quite human body finally taken out by an axe swing that took off her head, while Faith, like Gunn, died from her wounds, and how, come daybreak, Angel was left, the last one staggering, as the false dawn began to lighten the sky.

At the start of his story, he had been stilted, talking in short sentences. But as he went on, the pain and the pride took over and he became more fluent. It was as if he had been waiting for someone to come along so he could tell this tale, recount the bravery and glory of his friends and all that he had lost. There was a resigned peace about him - the retired warrior remembering and passing on the memories.

"Wolfram & Hart are gone now, from L.A. at least. The city is still arguing about what to do with the site where the offices were," he finished. "It's quieter. They'll be back of course, but not for a while."

"So what're you doing now?" Spike asked. "Sitting in the dark every night, waiting until the call of the bottle gets too strong?"

Angel's smile was faintly rueful. "Something like that," he admitted. "There's still work to do. People still need help. I just do it alone."

Xander lay back against Spike's chest. His ass was numb, but he didn't want to move for fear of breaking the strange mood of peaceful contemplation that had grown up between them. Spike had hardly said a word as Angel's story unfolded, just asked the occasional question when his Sire seemed to lose track of his narrative. Xander himself had remained silent. The story was fascinating, the sequence of events poignant in their inevitable progression towards disastrous victory, but he was still puzzled by how much Angel had apparently changed. He opened his mouth two or three times, but unable to find the words to ask, said nothing.

Spike's mouth came to rest on his neck and he felt the lips curve in a smile. "Go on, Pet. Speak your mind."

Xander turned his head and looked into Spike's eyes, acknowledging how the permission assisted him in voicing the question. He turned back to Angel. "How come you're not all dark?" He asked bluntly. "Like... I'd have thought... all that... you'd be all dark."

Angel sighed and again smiled that small, sad smile. "I've had a lot of time. I've done a lot of thinking," he said. "That night with Darla, I was given something special - I kept my soul. I don't know if this is the truth, but as an explanation it works for me: when I was with Buffy I was still in denial about everything I was, so when I experienced true happiness the curse was broken. After that true happiness was impossible, but I didn't dare risk it again. That night with Darla, I gave up. I wanted it all to end. I let Angelus out in a way I never did before. And I kept my soul." He paused for a moment, but it was clear he had no need to think this through - he already knew how this story went. "Later," he continued, "when Faith and I had our shared dream, I fought Angelus on common ground and I won. I needed her help, but I won." He paused again, as if bracing himself for the next part. "I won by taking the demon into myself - acknowledging that I'm both the soul and the demon. One doesn't exist without the other."

Xander thought about Spike, about his initial madness when he came back with no chip but a new, ill-fitting soul, and how that had led to deaths in a cellar. And he thought that somehow, something equivalent to Angel's epiphany had happened for Spike, too. Angel's voice pulled him back to the present.

"It was only later I realised how important it was. Those two nights changed me. The last two years I've worked it out and now I'm just grateful for what I've got. I've lost them all and I miss them every day. But I've gained peace of mind and that's such a gift." He looked up and for a moment his eyes locked with Xander's. "If I had a choice, I'd give it all up in a moment to get my friends back. But I don't have a choice. So... I am just grateful for what I do have and I honour them for what they did, not only for me - for the safety of the world." He looked away, gazing blankly at nothing. "They're dead. I can't bring them back. I live with what I have."

Xander felt Spike's chest rise and fall behind him, as he took a breath and let it out without speaking.

"Peace of mind," said Xander. "I get that. Knowing who you are and accepting it. Yeah, I get that."

Spike's arms tightened around him and Angel's expression lightened slightly as he looked back at them. "I guess you do, at that," he observed, thoughtfully.

"Who'd have thought we'd ever come so close to understanding each other?" Xander asked.

Spike shook himself. "Enough of this," he said. "There's something else..."

Xander turned his head to look, waiting to see how Spike would explain the something else who was, apparently and thankfully, still asleep in the van. What they'd heard tonight changed everything. The plan had been to dump Riley with Angel, and it still was, but the approach would have to be different now. Xander trusted Spike to do this right, as he knew he, himself, could not.

"I said we'd been on a visit 'round the Southwest, right?" Spike said. Angel nodded. "Well... in New Mexico we stopped off in Fairclough. You heard of it?"

"I'm not sure. It sounds familiar, but not so I remember why."

"Blood house," said Spike shortly. "Big one. Expensive. Whole town's colluding with it. Case of better the devil you know, I suppose. Even the people who don't like it don't do anything. We stopped off to have a look-see. Just curiosity. Got the low-down. Promised a woman not to mess it up. Thing was, when we got in we found someone. Someone we knew."

"Someone you knew?" Angel echoed, aghast. "And you left them there?"

"Bloody hell, no! We bought him out. Trouble is, I don't know what to do with him now. Thought you, being all help the helpless, would be able to assist. Didn't realise you were by yourself. Thought you'd have a whole gang here to help get him back on 'is feet. Help him break the habit and get free, like." He stopped speaking, as though he was trying, and failing, to find a solution to his problem. "I don't know what to do now," he said eventually. "Doesn't seem right to dump him on you. But I don't want him. Me and Xander... we don't do sharing. Well... not normally and certainly not for the long term." He paused again, pursing his lips thoughtfully. "I guess I could just let him go. Or... I could find someone else... once we get back to San Francisco. I know a few guys who'd probably be willing to have a donor. Don't know. I thought you'd have a human entourage who'd be able to take him in hand. Help him find an even keel and all that rot."

At the start of Spike's explanation, Angel listened quietly, but his expression shifted as he began to realise the direction Spike was heading. "You thought I could help wean him off the bite?" he asked, amazed and no little annoyed. "My god! Only you, Childe! That's a hell of a thing to throw at me. You know I don't feed from the source. And a willing donor? How would I stop the mating without other vampires to share the load?"

Spike sounded equally exasperated when he replied. "Look, I said I know it won't work. This was before we heard your story. I wouldn't ask it of you now. I'll take him to San Francisco and find someone willing to take him on. It's not your problem. I only mentioned it because he's going to wake up soon and if we're going to stay the day.... You are going to invite us to stay, right?" Angel nodded. "Well, you'll meet him then. And you need to know why he's with us."

"I know him?" Angel asked.

"Er. Yeah. 'Fraid so. Yeah, you know him." Spike paused and Xander could see Angel's impatience to hear the rest. He was interested to see how Angel would respond, himself. "It's Riley Finn." Spike said. "He got hooked while he was still in Sunnydale. Buffy destroyed the house and he left and went back to the army. Seems like he didn't get free though. First leave, he got picked up and ended up in Fairclough. He's been there for five years, serving the customers. Five years of feeding the habit. You know how hard it'll be to get him off. I don't know what to do with him."

"Riley Finn?" Angel asked in amazement and Xander watched as his whole body seemed to tighten, without him actually moving a muscle. "You could have left him," he snapped.

"Yeah. Almost did. Thought about it. But Venetia was pretty well finished with him." Angel silently mouthed the name 'Venetia' and Xander saw the recognition. "She was going to put him down. She owned his contract. I bought it to save 'is life. But I don't want 'im. There is no room in my life for anyone 'cept Xan." He gave Xander a quick, hard hug. "But you... you haven't got the back-up I expected. So I'm not asking you to take him. Just give us a bed for the day and we'll move on tonight. Don't worry, I'll sort something out."

Angel was silent for a good minute after Spike trailed off, thinking hard. "Buffy?" he suggested, eventually.

Spike laughed. "Oh come on, Sire. No way are the Scooby Gang equipped to deal with this. It takes a set of teeth, besides anything else. He's going to need care and he's going to need to be weaned off." He shook his head, regretfully. "I'll find a minion in San Francisco and keep an eye," he added, allowing his voice to become uncertain.

Angel bowed his head onto his chest. "How long since you bit him?" he asked.

"Yesterday. 'Bout midnight, give or take."

"And how long can he last?"

"Don't know. From what Venetia said, probably at least four days, 'specially if he has a reason. He didn't before. Didn't know she could sell his contract. He was expecting to die. Give him hope, he might last longer."

Angel looked at them across the desk. "William, you are a conniving son of a bitch. You know that, don't you?" He said with resigned acceptance. "Okay, I'll take him. God help me. You can't just take him to San Francisco, find any old fledge and hope to do a controlled withdrawal. For God's sake, what are you thinking? If he's an addict, any fledge that gets hold of him is going to skip town with him and sell him on to the next house they find. You can't be that irresponsible." He stopped for a moment to think. "Well, actually I expect you can." He threw up his hands in exasperation. "What a mess! You're going to turn me into a pimp, until I get him weaned off."

Spike expended every effort to prevent his relief from showing and managed to maintain a reluctant tone. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I don't want to dump on you. I'm sure we can find someone in San Francisco..." he trailed off.

"No," Angel said with decision. "I'll take him. I only met him once and he didn't particularly impress, but I don't have any major cases at the moment. I reckon I can manage this one." He looked across at both of them. "Did you seal him to you?" Spike shook his head and Angel nodded. "Go and get him," he said.

Xander and Spike stood up and walked out into the lobby. They managed to wait until they were on the street before allowing their shared glee to find expression – hugging each other and trying to stifle their laughter. It took a few minutes and a number of long kisses before they calmed down enough to open the back doors of the van.

Riley was sitting on the mattress, leaning against the wall with his arms clasped around his knees. He looked up as the door opened, an expression of strain on his face. Spike realised they had perhaps not been as quiet as he had hoped in their laughter.

"Out you get, Mate," he said. "Got us a room for the day. You don't want to sleep out here. Angel says you can stay for a bit. He'll help you with the bite. How're you holding up?"

Riley spoke through clenched teeth. "I'll be okay," he said. "I can last a week if I have to."

Spike grinned his cocky, conspiratorial grin. "Might not have to. I reckon it's up to you. Angel may be all about denial, but I doubt that makes him any better at it than he ever was. Come on."

Riley scrambled out, Xander grabbed a couple of bags and together they went back into the hotel. In the east the sky was just turning from gold to blue, as the sun rose behind the buildings opposite.

Angel was waiting in the centre of the lobby and Spike had managed to school his face back to serious by the time he came to a stop before him. "Here he is, Mate," he said waving an arm back at Riley. "You still okay with this? Because you know..."

Angel's gaze raked Riley up and down, taking in the hunched and hesitant posture. "No. I mean yes. I'm still okay." He walked up to Riley. "You can do this. I'll help you. When it really gets too much, come to me. I'll be there every time and I'll make sure you're safe. You just have to hang on as long as you can before you give in. Got that?" Riley nodded miserably. "Good. Now come with me, let's find you all a couple of rooms."

Spike and Xander left that evening without seeing Riley again. Angel waved them off, with what was almost a grin and a promise to come on a visit to San Francisco soon. Spike suspected that they had inadvertently provided him with a challenge that would help him as much, if not more, than he would help Riley.

Road Trip ~ Epilogue