William huddled harder into the lee of a park wall, arms wrapped around his legs for warmth, head down for privacy.

Privacy had become a premium since - well, since everything.

Tears formed in his eyes, but didn't fall. He no longer had the energy to cry. Or maybe he spent all his energy trying not to cry because he knew it upset Spike.

It upset his twin quite a lot.

And he would be there any moment, so William wiped quickly at his eyes with the back of one grubby hand, and shivered, waiting for the familiar tread of old combat boots that he swore Spike had barely taken off since he'd come home with them.

Spike...came home with rather a lot of things that William knew money wasn't buying, but...

His hand trembled over the brittle grass at his side, and he stuffed it into his pocket unhappily, feeling the tremors work their way up his arm. It was especially bad today. And he was so tired.

It was enough to make his eyes burn and worry gnaw at his stomach as he hoped desperately that Spike would be in a good mood, and not -

"Get up."

William's head snapped up, startled. He hadn't heard Spike coming, and only stared mutely until Spike grabbed his arm and hauled him upright, marching him through the park.

"God, head in the fuckin' clouds. C'mon. We've gotta get out of here."

"W-what's going on?"

Spike only shrugged, walking faster. "Us. Gettin' the fuck out of here."

William didn't know what Spike had done - though certainly he'd done something - but William knew better than to ask. It was better not to know. Even when the answers were right in front of him, William often chose not to know.

"Hurry up, damn it," Spike was calling back over his shoulder, but William couldn't go any faster, didn't feel steady on his feet.

"I-I can't. I d-don't..." William tripped and stumbled over a crack that he couldn't see in the pavement, Spike darting back just in time to catch his arm and steady him.

"Jesus," Spike muttered, but he slung William's arm over his shoulders and slipped his arm around William's waist and all but dragged him to the grouping of large rocks at the edge of the park, where they'd stashed the two knapsacks that contained their worldly possessions.

Spike kept hold of both bags as they continued out of the park, making their way almost a mile to the warehouse district. William stood outside an abandoned building as Spike broke a window and cleared away the glass, tossing the bags in before boosting William through and then climbing in after him.

William coughed as he dug through one knapsack for an electric torch.

"Fuck, you're getting sick again, aren't you?" Spike asked.

"No." William's denial was followed by more coughing.

"Yes, you are. Bloody hell, Will, this is not a good time."

"Oh, right. Sorry, then. I'll put it off and pencil it in for next month instead, shall I?"

William hunched over the knapsacks, trying not to cough, but it only made his chest tighten more with the need to do so, and Spike pacing back and forth like a creature in a cage was making him nervous. Always made him nervous.

Finding the torch, he tried to switch it on, but nothing happened. He frowned, shaking it, then gripped it tighter, twisted off the end, and was tipping it to check the batteries when the coughing escaped at last, the batteries clattering and scattering on the floor.

"Sodding hell, Will! Give it here!" Spike snatched the torch out of William's hands, chasing down the batteries and jamming them in.

It gave William a vindictive thrill to see that the torch didn't turn on for him either.

"Fuck. Where's the bloody batteries?" Spike crouched, muttering as he dug through his own knapsack in a rattle of CDs and his portable CD player. The CDs were a fluid presence, William knew, and one of the things he didn't ask about, just as Spike never complained about the books in his own knapsack, even though they made it harder for William to carry it when he was ill.

Spike finally came up with two batteries. He shoved them into the torch and tossed it at William. "Here, hold this."

William scowled as the torch hit him in the chest, but dutifully flipped the switch and shone it in Spike's direction. The light skittered across Spike's face and William did a double-take.

"Quit shining that in my face. You're blindin' me."

"Spike, what happened?"

"Nothing."

"Well, 'nothing' needs ice."

"Well, we don't have ice."

"Spike, you... you..."

"Spit it out, Will."

"You can't keep doing this."

"Can't keep doing what? Feeding us? Keeping us alive?"

William sighed. "You're hurt."

"I'm fine."

William leaned forward with the torch. "Let me see."

Spike flinched away from William's fingers. "Leave it alone."

William tucked both arms around himself and fixed an unfocused glare on Spike.

"Stop starin' at me like I kicked your bloody puppy. I'm fine. Be healed up by morning," Spike muttered, patting himself down and getting a cigarette into his mouth before William's next coughing fit. He hesitated, scowling from the lighter to William and back before tucking it away. "Right." William watched Spike retreat with the torch, following its diffuse glow with his eyes as he was left alone in the rapidly darkening warehouse.

It...wasn't so bad. The roof seemed to be quite solid, and it didn't stink of urine and feces, so it couldn't have been abandoned long. He wondered...god, he wished they could stay, just for a few days, but it was against Spike's rules. During the day, they had to be out in the open. Somewhere - Spike didn't say it had to be somewhere they could run from, escape from easily, but he didn't have to either.

The torch bobbed with Spike's stride as he returned, snatching up both knapsacks. "There's what used to be an office on the other end. It'll do. Keep the drafts out."

William followed Spike across the warehouse. "Why won't you tell me what you did today?"

"Because you're better off not knowing."

"I'm not a child. You're only fifteen minutes older than me. You don't have to protect me."

"Bollocks. How 'bout you tell me what you did today?"

"Nothing," William said, looking down, not liking the tone of Spike's question.

"Nothing," Spike mocked, mimicking William's timidity. "And where did you do all that nothing?"

"Nowhere."

"Nowhere. Well, aren't you just a font of information tonight..."

"Hypocrite," William muttered.

"Ooh, and now name-calling. What're you hiding, Will?"

William started to speak, but Spike cut him off.

"Wait, let me guess - nothing." Spike smirked and raised one eyebrow as they neared the door. "You can't keep secrets from me, Will. You know I always find out."

William gave Spike a shove, stalking past him into the office with a facial expression that proved them twins. "Sod off, Marion!" Before he could draw breath, William found himself caught by the shirtfront and slammed against the wall, Spike's face close enough that he could see the swelling that surrounded Spike's eye even in this poor lighting.

"Spike," he spat the word into William's face.

"Then be a man and earn the fucking name if you want me to call you by it." William gave him a weak shove, coughing - *God, always coughing* - crouching by his bag and pulling out the warm sweatshirt and sweat pants he slept in when it was safe, and the thin camping blanket they shared. "Bloody nancy." He stiffened as he heard Spike's indrawn breath, wondering for one awful moment if he'd gone too far, but then Spike was stalking out, already cupping his hand at the end of his cigarette for a light as the battered door slammed behind him.

William sighed and pulled out his book, then tucked the bag under his head as he lay down and curled up under the blanket. Holding the torch in one hand and the book in the other, inches from his face, William began to read. Ten minutes later, Spike reappeared.

"Christ," Spike muttered as he shucked his duster and dropped to his knees beside William. "Blind as a bloody bat."

Spike heaved an exaggerated sigh and took the book and the torch from William's hands. Settling down next to William, he started reading. "The attendant has just been in to me to say that Renfield has been very sick and has disgorged a whole lot of feathers. 'My belief is, doctor,' he said, 'that he has eaten his birds, and that he just took and ate them raw!'...God, William, you ghoul. This is complete shite!"

"It's a classic," William insisted. "Keep reading."

Spike snorted. "Sensationalist bollocks. ...I gave Renfield a strong opiate tonight...."