Author's Chapter Notes:
Thanks to Carol for her beta work!

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Chapter Three

Be Kind Of Ungrateful...

Angel watched Spike disappear out of the office in frustration. Although he'd played it cool about the Shanshu prophecy he'd longed for it to be real and for it to happen to him. The chance of a normal life after so long would have been amazing, and there was Spike acting like he didn't want it.

"Goddammit, Spike," growled Angel.

It hadn't taken Spike long to adapt to being a vampire, he'd even somehow managed to retain more of his humanity than any other vampire that he'd encountered. Angel thought that would have made Spike embrace his change even more readily. It wasn't as big a step as it would have been with a more conventional vamp.

Angel shook his head. He had no idea how to help Spike adjust. He'd never been fond of taking advice from his grand-sire.

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Spike went back up to his room as he didn't know where else to go. He couldn't go far, feeling as beat up as he did. God, he felt every one of his century plus years.

He sat on the bed and looked around the shabby room. Had it always been so bad or was the fact that he was human making him want something better? He didn't know. He didn't know anything apart from one thing - he didn't want this change.

Spike would have given anything to have been human when in Sunnydale with Buffy. When he'd sought his soul he'd really hoped it would come attached to being returned to human form but it wasn't to be. He'd wanted to give her everything she deserved in a man including, amongst others, the ability to walk with her in the sun. But now? What was the point? He and Angel had turned into a great team; ever since they defeated the Senior Partners they proved that they could do good - big time.

But the thing that terrified Spike the most was that he'd return to being ‘William', that naïve, weak loser he used to be. Even after all these years, the remarks levelled at him the night that he'd met Drusilla still stung, as did Cecily's rejection of him. When he'd first gotten his soul and had tried to quash the demon within as much as he could, Buffy had berated him for being soft and useless; that he had been a better fighter and more help to her before it. He laughed mirthlessly.

"Wot would she think of me now?"

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Angel had stayed in office the whole night to make sure that Spike didn't leave the hotel. He was just worrying that somehow he must have missed seeing him go when Spike walked down the stairs and into the office.

"Er...look...I'm sorry about yesterday, okay? Just a lot to take in yer know, and yeah, I was too pissed to be able to fight properly." He'd kept his eyes downcast but now lifted them to meet Angel's. "But I still want to work with you, Peaches. I reckon the vampire - human team might work out all right, don't you? I mean, I can go places that you can't." He grinned. "Think of where I can go, no invite required."

"Yeah," said Angel slowly, "So you're okay with the whole being human thing now?" He watched Spike closely.

"That's right," said Spike firmly, "Be kind of ungrateful not to be, wouldn't it?" "God, I'm good. I've almost convinced myself."

Angel stared at him for a moment more but seemed satisfied with what Spike had said.

"Good. It's a gift, Spike. A good one. I'm going to get some sleep. Will you be okay?"

"Yeah, no worries. I'm just going to get some supplies. Blood's not looking as appetising as it used to these days," said Spike with a grin. "Yep, pencil me in for that Oscar."

Angel nodded and went upstairs. Spike's grin faded as soon as Angel was out of sight and he let out a big sigh.

"Well, he seems to have bought it."

Spike knew what Angel was like. If he thought that he wasn't coping he'd watch him like a hawk to make sure that he was all right. One thing he could really do without was having tall, dark and forehead as a bloody babysitter.

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Spike went out to find the nearest diner. As he ate his pancakes drenched in maple syrup, he tried to remember what his last breakfast as a human had been. He wasn't certain but thought kippers featured in there somewhere.

"Stop doing that," he chided himself, "You're not soddin' William. You're Spike made human. William died in 1880."

He pushed away his plate with a grimace, appetite suddenly gone.

When he got back to the hotel he went to the room they'd kitted out as a training room. He wanted to see exactly what he could do.

"Can't have been a vamp for a hundred and twenty odd years without retaining some of that, surely?"

He started to pound on the punch bag, hitting it and kicking it. The physical exercise felt good. He soon stripped off his t-shirt as he started to sweat, something he hadn't suffered with as a vampire. He tried his hand at some of the weapons and, although his aim was still as true, his strength was a fraction of what it had been. He ended the session feeling even more dispirited.

Up in the bathroom Spike stared at himself in the mirror before he had a shower. He took in his lean, hard physique - his stomach was flat and taut, his muscles well defined. He knew he was much stronger than William had been, probably much stronger than any human, but he still mourned the loss of his vampire strength. Ever since he'd been sired, he'd felt cocky and brave, even when he was merely a fledge learning about his powers. Now he felt the old insecurities flooding back and he hated it. That's why he'd never go to find Buffy. She needed a warrior beside her.

As he took his shower he examined his bruises and was disappointed to see they'd barely changed. If he'd still been a vampire he would have been back to normal by now.

Spike sat on his bed and turned on the TV, which sat with its remote at the foot of the bed on some drawers. Passions was on and he settled down to watch it.

"Least some things don't change."

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Later that day as dusk fell Angel reappeared. He went to the weapons room and selected what he wanted to take with him on patrol. He turned around and wasn't surprised to see Spike at the doorway, leaning on the frame, with a stake in one hand and a short handled axe in the other.

"Hi, Spike. What are you doing?"

"Coming with you on patrol. What do yer think I'm doing?"

"Don't you think that you ought to wait until you know more of what your...um...limitations are?"

Spike scowled furiously at him.

"Look, I've been in the bleeding training room half the day. I know wot I can and can't do, yer git," he snarled.

"Okay, okay," said Angel, putting his hands up in surrender, "It's just you're used to defending your heart and your neck as your most vulnerable parts. Now you have to be more careful of the whole of you."

"Are we going?" asked Spike coldly, and he walked out.

Angel sighed and followed him out. He kicked himself for going to bed. He should have stayed up and sparred with him.

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It wasn't long before they ran into trouble - a woman was cornered by three vampires in a dark alley. With a roar Spike flew to the attack, beating Angel to the first vampire despite no longer having his vampire speed. The dust from the first had barely settled before Angel took out the second. Spike glanced over to Angel and grinned.

"There's still nothing like a good bit of violence."

Then Spike was hit from behind by the third vampire. He fell to his knees, dropping both the axe and stake. He turned over quickly onto his back and deflected the vamp's lunge with a sharp kick to its stomach. It staggered back a few paces but then leapt at Spike again, this time grabbing his throat. Spike thrashed desperately in its grasp before choking on the dust as Angel staked it through its back.

Angel held a hand out to help Spike up. He ignored it and got to his feet unaided. He turned to the woman they'd just saved.

"Wot the hell were you thinking walking through here?"

"It's...it's a short cut...my God...what were those things?" she gasped, face white with shock.

"Bleeding short cut to getting dead, yer silly bint," snarled Spike, "Stick to the well lit street from now on. We might not be around to save you next time."

"Seems like I only need your friend here to save me," retorted the woman, "He had to rescue you, too."

She turned on her heel and walked away. Spike took a step after her before feeling Angel's hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off but didn't follow her.

"Spike," said Angel.

He didn't answer, just picked up his fallen weapons.

"I can't do this. I just bleeding can't do this." Spike thought in desperation. "I can't even off a bleeding vampire. I'm totally useless."

Angel caught up with him but kept quiet. He knew Spike well enough to know that talking now would inevitably just lead to a fight.

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Angel hesitated as he walked beside Spike and sniffed the air. Spike stopped too and watched him closely. Angel sniffed a couple more times before nodding. He wasn't mistaken, some Mwad demons were ahead. Their pheromone trail was always so strong. He looked at Spike - should he tell him what scent he'd caught?

"So wot nasty is waiting up ahead?" asked Spike, putting an end to Angel's indecision.

"Mwads, and not far away," said Angel quietly.

"Yeah," replied Spike grimly, " and there's only one thing they're after..."

"Children," supplied Angel.

"Hey, isn't that shelter to runaway kids somewhere around here?" asked Spike.

"It is."

"We'd better hurry up then."

Spike set off at a fast pace. He had to concentrate on his breathing, unused to it having a physiological effect. He'd realised how important correct breathing had been in the training room. He may no longer be a vampire but he was very fit and he wasn't out of breath when he got to the shelter.

"Spike, wait," hissed Angel as Spike started to go boldly to the door.

He growled with frustration as Spike simply ignored him and tossed the stake to the ground before running, axe raised, through the door. Angel heard a roar and then had to dodge out of the way as an Mwad demon flew through the air towards him, an axe firmly embedded in its head. He pulled the axe out and ran into the building.

Spike was clinging to the back of another Mwad, no easy task as they're covered in slime, trying to break its neck - something pre-Shanshu he would have found simple.

"Catch," shouted Angel, throwing him the axe.

Spike caught it and slammed it into the side of the demon's neck, leaping clear as it fell to the floor mortally wounded.

"There's another in there," gasped Spike, pointing to the door on the left.

Angel ran in just in time to see the third demon grab one of the kids by the throat. She was probably fifteen years old, skinny with lank brown hair. She struggled helplessly in its clutches.

"Just put the girl down," said Angel firmly, "You don't want to go there."

The demon turned to stare at him, its blazing red eyes malevolent. Angel started to walk slowly towards the beast.

"Your pals are dead. If you want to live then you'll let her go," lied Angel, having no intention of allowing it to live.

"Oh, for Christ's sake Angel, don't bleeding stand there!" cried Spike as he ran past and hurled himself at the Mwad.

"Spike! No!"

Angel's warning came too late. The demon brought up its free hand, sword gleaming as he swung it. Spike dodged as best he could but gave out a sickening scream as the blade bit into his side.

Angel ran to the attack. The Mwad threw the girl to the floor and turned, sword raised, to finish Spike, who was writhing on the floor. Angel kicked the hand that held the sword and with a bellow the demon dropped it. Angel caught it before the sword hit the ground and ran the beast through with it. He then pulled it out and deftly lopped off its head.

"Spike."

He threw the sword to the floor and ran to him. He gently lifted Spike's shirt. The wound was long but not too deep - not life threatening, thank God. He pressed on it to stem the bleeding.

"Ow, that bloody hurts," complained Spike.

"Well, what do you expect, you idiot?" snapped Angel, "Come on, let's get you home and cleaned up." He helped Spike to his feet.

Once back at the hotel Angel disinfected the wound.

"It won't heal without being stitched," said Angel.

"So, sodding stitch it already," said Spike, stifling a moan as the needle bit through his flesh.

"Look you're going to have to take it easy, Spike. You can't keep going on like this, you'll get yourself killed," admonished Angel, regretting his harsh words as soon as he'd said them as he saw Spike wince and close his eyes.

"Yeah, right." Spike got up, holding his hand to his newly bandaged side. "So that's it, it's official. I'm bloody useless." He walked out of the room.

Without realising it Spike found himself outside of the weapons room. He walked inside and stood looking at the astonishing array of weapons. He ignored the ones on the racks on the walls and pulled open a small drawer. He looked in. There was a handgun in it. He stared at it for a long time before he took it and put it in the waistband of his jeans. He put a clip of bullets in his pocket. He pulled the t-shirt down to cover it and then walked up to his bedroom.

Spike sat on the bed and pulled out the gun. He clipped the bullets into it. He liked the feel of it in his hand, the metal cool to his touch. He took off the safety catch and put the gun against his left temple. His hand was steady as a rock as it held the weapon in place. His finger started to slowly squeeze the trigger. He glanced around the room for the last time, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror. With a cry of frustration he took the gun away from his head and laid it on the bed.

"Oh, Christ, I am a bleeding ponce. How pathetic is this? Nothing heroic about blowing yer brains out."

He put his head in his hands and sobbed.





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