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CHAPTER 6 -- Changes

“Mr. Andrews make sure those files are on my desk by two o’clock this afternoon.” Angel trotted towards his office, professional demeanor full force. Behind him followed a bevy of men in expensive suits barking “Yes Sir” and “Of course Sir” to Angel’s every whim. They made a sharp left into Angel’s office, losing some minions through the narrow doorway. Angel continued to address his lackeys, his eyes on the file in his hands. “If we’re going to do this right we need this case to go through the . . . .”

Every one of Angel’s associates stopped abruptly, shock taking over their features. All of Angel’s maturity deflated as he saw the scene in front of him. His stoic face fell, along with his square shoulders, and the papers he had held in his hand flopped to hang loosely at his thigh. Angel took a deep breath:

“Out of my chair!” he whined, exasperated.

His complaint was met by a raised eyebrow and a smirk. “Make me.” Spike was stretched out in Angel’s posh leather chair, his muddy boots crossed on top of the desk in front of him, and his long fingers were interlaced behind his head. Giving no response, Angel excused himself, asking if his associates could wait for him in the adjoining room.

Spike smiled at Angel’s agitation. Taking out a cigarette and lighting it with his Zippo, he addressed Angel, the stick hanging from his lips, “Brother, you’re going to have to lighten up or people will starting thinking of you as a self-centered, brooding . . . oh wait, too late.” Angel stalked toward the desk, stopping to glower down at Spike.

“You don’t want this company,” he growled. “I swear to God, Spike, if you’re going to destroy dad’s company because of some spiteful boyhood grudge let me know now because I will take you out before you ruin this for me.”

His words had no effect on Spike, “Tough talk cowboy. You know you’re not the only one that went to law school.”

“Oh, did you finish? All I know is that dad was sending sickening amounts of money to your account all these years and it was being withdrawn quicker than it was deposited. Who knew what it was getting used for.”

“I may have done some dumb shit in my day, but I’m not a complete moron.”

“Could of fooled me.” Spike shrugged and silence fell over the room. Angel’s body revealed that he had some other issue to address with his baby brother. When he did finally speak it was a quieter tone, but no less menacing, “I know where you were last night.”

Spike didn’t even try to pretend that he didn’t know what he was talking about. “Oh what? Did I eat all your Pringles?”

“You may be able to charm the hired help, but your spell doesn’t work on the rest of us.”

Spike gave Angel a beat, letting him think he’d gotten the last word in as he turned to leave the room. As Angel was about to walk through the threshold, Spike spoke, “It seemed to work just fine on your girlfriend.” Angel paused a moment to seethe quietly before continuing on his way. To be truthful, Spike expected more of a reaction out of him. He knew that if Buffy were his and Angel had made that type of suggestive remark, Spike would’ve pummeled him.

Spike continued to ponder in his brother’s chair. His words were meant strickly to harm his brother, not lessen the connection he felt last night with Buffy. If he had that girl . . . No, that was a stupid thought. No use torturing yourself over a dream. He may not deserve Buffy, but Angel had no right to even be in the same room as that girl. She had something extraordinarily special about her, he could tell. He sighed and returned to fumbling through the files on Angel’s desk, trying to catch up on five years of information. And although Spike tried to will himself away from blonde hair and green eyes, he found his mind wondering if she would be down in the kitchen tonight.

TBC





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