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Author's Chapter Notes:
Some knowledge of what happened on Angel is needed for this story. For those who didn't follow to closely, in the past Angel killed the wife and infant son of Vampire killer Holtz and also turned Holtz's daughter into a vampire. Holtz had to throw her into the sun and watch her turn to ash. Needless to say, Holtz has been out for revenge ever since.
Chapter 1



Los Angeles - A Few Hours Earlier



Wesley rushed out of the apartment with Connor in one arm, his suitcase in his other. He couldn’t believe that he had to go as far as stealing Angel’s own baby away, but he just couldn’t take the chance. There were just too many variables including Angel’s own unstable soul. He just couldn’t live with himself if anything happened to little Connor no matter how much he valued Angel’s friendship. Wesley quickly threw his suitcase in the trunk and hurried over to the back door to put Connor inside. Suddenly he heard the sound of moaning and quickly turned to see a woman, arms wrapped around her middle, stumbling towards him through the park across the street. It was too dark to see who exactly it was so he drew this gun with his right hand.



“That’s close enough” Wesley warned.



The woman stumbled to her knees and looked up through the disarrayed curtain of dark hair, eyes shining with tears.



“Justine?”



"He's everything you said. It's true." She answered.



Wes slowly lowered his gun and stepped closer. "What happened?" He asked, worried as to why Holtz’s right-hand had come to him in such a state.



"Well… he didn't keep his word." She let out a pained laugh. Wes put the safety back on his gun and put it away. It looked as if the treacherous nature of Holtz had finally revealed itself to her. Justine looked like she was in extreme pain and she still clutched her stomach as she slowly rose to her feet.



"He took everybody and he went after the baby. And when I questioned him...”



As she got closer, Wes finally got to see the bruises that marked her face as well as her bloodied lip. He couldn’t help but react angrily. “Bastard! I'll kill him for this. You have to get out of here."



Seemingly exhausted, Justine fell against Wes.



"You have to get to hospital."



"No. I just need to do..."



Suddenly a voice yelled out from the shadows “Watch out!” just as Justine pulled out a knife. Wes reacted as quickly as he could but he did not have much maneuverability with Connor in his arm. He shoved Justine away but quick as a snake she had already struck with her knife. It ripped through his flesh downward from the top of the neck to his collarbone. Although weakened, it wasn’t enough to drop him. He grabbed the gun out of his pocket and clocked her hard across the face and she went down, hitting the pavement hard. Deciding not to check on Justine, just in case she was playing possum, he dashed into the car clutching a bawling Connor and sped off with squealing tires.



Wesley checked his wound as best as he could. He was still conscious so apparently she had missed any major arteries, but he needed to get help fast and Sunnydale was at least four hours away from LA even if he greatly exceeded the speed limit. He didn’t trust Buffy enough for help, he was positive she wouldn’t be able to resist contacting Angel. And Giles wouldn’t be able to resist telling Buffy so it was the same problem. But there was Spike, and strangely enough he’d come to believe in him and his unusual redemption story. He’d help, he knew it, he had to. Besides, he didn’t know where else to go.





**********************



Sunnydale - Now



Spike hated his life. When things get bad, always, but always remember, they can and will get worse. Case in point, he was now stuck in perpetual purgatory, otherwise know as the waiting room at Sunnydale General Hospital. He may act the big bad, but in reality he hated everything about hospitals: the smell, the taste of sick blood in the air, and definitely the bloody awful chairs. If Wesley survived he was going to kill him; kill him slowly so he could endure the same punishment he was relegated to. The least the wankers at the hospital could do was provide current mags instead of the random collection of medical periodicals and gossip fluff published before 1995. People were bloody well dying here and they couldn’t provide good entertainment? Humans had their priorities totally screwed. At least he had Connor to keep him company. He begrudgingly admitted that the sprog was a tad bit entertaining.



“Okay lil’ bit, what shall we read. Ooh lookie here, we have a fascinating article on the upcoming blockbuster Waterworld. Never understood the appeal of Costner. His accent in Robin Hood was a crime. Women were crazy about the sod though. You better thank the Powers that you have a pecker.”



Connor’s only reaction was to gurgle and stuff his foot in his mouth. Spike couldn’t help the smile that curled his lip. He was never one for ankle biters but Connor was downright charming. He had yet to cry and strangely enough he seemed to actually listen when he talked, which was a miracle in itself. And blast it all, he smelled good, and not even in an, ‘I want to eat you’ way.



Spike couldn’t help himself, all of a sudden he found himself giving Connor stomach raspberries. And then he had to do it again, and again. Damn it if Connor’s giggles weren’t infectious. Thankfully, nobody was around this time of night to witness his humiliation. Spike was mid a particularly good raspberry and giggle fest when a voice interrupted the pair.



“Hey Spike, sorry it took me so long, but I dropped by Freddie’s Demon Market Plus to pick up some good snackies and blood for you.”



And there stood Clem, the light shining off his wrinkled skin like a hideous angel from heaven.



“I’ve never been so happy to see your ugly mug. Hand over the goods.”



“Well, hello to you too Spike. I figured you’d want some snackies as well so I also have some Doritos, cheesy poofs, oreos, and the healthier option of wheat thins. “



“Ahh, the breakfast of champions! You’re a pal”. Spike then proceeded to dig into the generous amount of munchies and swig down the blood at an alarming fast rate. Clem patiently waited for Spike to turn his attention back to him and explain the late night trip to the hospital but Spike seemed to be too engrossed in filling his stomach to pay any more attention to little ol’ Clem.



“Ahem, Spike, are you going to actually tell me why you called me over in the middle of the night to the hospital no less. I was entertaining a lady friend of mine. You should see what she can do with her tentacles. Amazing stuff. You owe me big time. And is that a baby in your lap?”



“Oh yeah, that. Well, I was bored and hungry and who better than my good buddy Clem to provide entertainment and sustenance.”



“There is still the baby. Come on Spike, spill now, I mean it.” Clem gave him ‘the look’ and his look meant business. Maybe it was all the folds of his skin, or how his eyes turned a wee bit red, but never-the-less, he knew not to mess with Clem when he was on the receiving end.



“Ok mate, here’s how it goes. Wesley’s the one who’s been admitted, he’s a watcher or well he used to be, but once a watcher always a watcher I say, look at Giles. Well, Wesley calls me up one day out o’ the blue. How he got my number is beyond me, cause it’s unlisted. I blame Giles. A big problem Watchers have is that they read too much and Wesley is definitely guilty of that sin. He’d been reading prophecies and the like, and came across something peculiar about two vampires, the slayer, souls, yada yada. I wasn’t paying much attention to his ramblings, but apparently he called me up because of my tenuous relationship with the slayer. Apparently Giles has been giving him updates on me. So Wesley starts asking me a load of questions I don’t care to answer so clearly I hung up on him. But this bloke is bloody persistent and keeps calling back, eventually wears me down and we end up playing chess over the phone. I tell him that every time he takes a piece he’ll get an answer from me. Unfortunately I underestimated his skills and he’s a brilliant chess player and I spill more information than I ever wanted to. During these chess sessions, we got to conversing, he’s actually not half bad for a geek. I have a feeling he keeps his dark side hidden.”



“Spike, long story short.”



“Hold on, hold on, I was getting there. To continue, one day he calls me up and has fucking brilliant news. Angel had gone and had himself a little sprog by Darla which is little Connor here. Of course Wesley is beyond himself and starts reading even more dusty old books looking for any clue on what was going on. After that bit o’ news I didn’t hear a word from him. I was just starting to think he’d lost interest in little ol’ me when he shows up knocking at death’s door wanting me to keep Connor hidden from his da’, not that I blame him, Angel has always been a pompous ass. So I take the watcher to hospital, call you up and here we are now.”



“So are you like actually friends with a watcher?”



“Of course not! How could you even think that! I’m a vamp with standards.”



The look that Clem gave him just screamed ‘Yeah, right!’ and Spike couldn’t help but to respond.



“Okay, okay, maybe, but vague acquaintances at the most. Stop looking at me like that. Alright, we’re friendly, I enjoy our conversations over chess, but it’s not like I have many people to talk to besides you. I feel like a leper half the time. I’m man enough to admit that it gets a tad bit lonely at times. And it’s not like Angel provides Wesley with any sort of mental stimulation, he’s thick as a brick that one.



Clem stared at Spike in awe for several long moments and then sat down heavily next to him. “Spike, you have the strangest luck of any vampire I’ve ever met.”



“You’re telling me. Don’t breathe a word ‘bout this.” he answered while bouncing a squirming Connor on his knee.



“Like seriously, who am I going to tell?”



Connor chose at that moment to reach out and grab Clem’s generous ear and started giggling infectiously then continued to repeatedly tug and giggle like it was the best thing in the world. Of course Clem couldn’t helped to be charmed by his complete lack of fear.



“He’s kinda cute for a human baby, even with all that tight skin” Clem commented, amused by the baby and the situation in general.



“I’m growing rather attached to him.” Spike answered. And he was, even in these few short hours. Connor was making a feeling grow inside him that he thought died a long time ago with the loss of his mother, the tiny flame of genuine joy. He pulled Connor away from the temptation of Clem’s ears and lifted him above his face, wiggling him and bringing his little body down toward his up-turned face. Spike nipped at Connor’s little hands as they tried to reach for Spike’s laughing face making him giggle in return. He finally kissed his rosy cheeks and brought him back down to his lap. Angel always was a lucky bastard. Envy and resentment at his sire burned painfully bright in his chest for a moment. He brought his hand to the spot on his chest where his heart lay still beneath and rubbed the throb futilely.



“So what are you going to do? Vampires aren’t exactly qualified to be parents.” Clem asked.



“That, mate, I’m not to sure about yet. But I’m definitely going to need one more little favor. My crypt is a crispy mess and I can’t take lil’ bit there, it’s downright unsanitary. I need a new place to stay.”



“Spike, first of all, do you have any money to pay for an apartment and secondly are you absolutely sue you want to do this? I mean, this a baby Spike! A real, live, squirming, crying, pooping baby. Why not just give him over to Buffy? This should totally be her territory.”



“First of all, ‘course I have some dosh. I’m over 100 years old, I just prefer the simple life. Secondly, piss off. I can’t approach Buffy about this, so don’t ask again. She’d just go running straight back to Angel. Connor’s my responsibility now. I’ll tell the slayer when the time’s right.”



Spike’s steely blue gaze sent chills down Clem’s back. When Spike was determined, there was nothing to persuade him otherwise, and he’d do best to just back off and be supportive.



“Alright, alright, no need for the killer death glare.” Clem answered. I have this friend, goes by the name of Shorty. He has terrible taste in clothing, and smells a little funny but overall pretty cool. He owns a few businesses that caters to non-volatile demons such as myself including an apartment building. It’s pretty swanky, and Buffy has no idea it exists. He’s usually at his diner at this time of night so I’ll go ask him if there are any units open.”



Spike couldn’t help the look of relief that came over his face. He was used to looking after himself and Dru, but this was something entirely different. “Thank’s a lot, you’ve been a real pal. I have a couple of extra kittens I’ll send your way.”



“Throw in a box of chex mix and we’re even. That’s some good stuff. I owe you anyway for not tattling about the extra cards I hide in my skin folds.”



So, life had taken a turn for the decidedly strange side, but with pals like Clem, things were looking up.



Chapter End Notes:
Who warned Wesley? Well, that is a mysterious to be solved later.

Thanks to everyone who commented and gave me feedback! Any comments on the direction of this story is appreciated.



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