"Why are you here?" Angel asked flatly, hiding the eagerness with which he took in his childe's presence. Spike was...different, somehow, than he had been the last time Angel had seen him. Then again, the younger vampire had gotten himself a soul in the years since their last meeting. A soul, a Slayer, and now what?

Spike averted his eyes, forcing himself to make careful study of the floor at Angel's feet. "Came to my Sire," He said sullenly. Why was he here? ::Sire, can you not see? Where are your eyes, have they fled your face? What are those deceptively familiar orbs if not your own eyes, watching and always knowing?::

"You were just in the area and decided to drop in?" Angel murmured incredulously. "Why do I not believe that, Spike?"

"I killed them," Spike whispered. "All of them."

Angel frowned. Who was Spike talking about? Their mutual acquaintances in Sunnydale were dead, yes, by the hands of the same darkness that had obliterated Angel's own friends. Spike, however, was not that darkness. "Who is dead?"

Spike let himself smile sadly. "The children, my children. Dead, all of them."

Somehow Angel knew that Spike wasn't referring to Buffy and her cohorts. "You had childer?" It wasn't a question.

"My light and my darkness," Spike confirmed. "But wrong, scarred and not right. They would not kneel, would not accept. Until now. Now they bow forever." ::Angel, how did you survive it? Live through Penn and his death? Or was it that you couldn't do what I did, end your family. After all, I am still here. You didn't kill Dru. Darla... no one blames you for killing Darla.::

"Who killed them?" Angel asked cautiously. If Spike had indeed Sired childer, then their loss would be very painful. The Sire-childe bond was a deep and enduring one. In the past it had been the only reason he hadn't just staked Dru and Spike for their atrocities.

Spike bit his lip. "Their Sire," He whispered, ashamed. "They were monsters, feebleminded creatures of nothingness, but they didn't deserve that, or to live either." ::Help me, Sire. I do not want your pity for those lost ones; they are not why I am here. Take me back, show me that I am your childe and not just a wretch borne of your shame.::

Angel blinked. Spike, his most human childe, the one who valued family above all things, had killed his childer? "Why?" He murmured, studying carefully his childe. Spike looked brittle, worn, like a sheet of foolscap left too long in the sun.

"They were weak, wrong. Never listened," Spike murmured. Angel hadn't demanded his exit yet, an omission that emboldened the younger vampire. He took a few steps forward, daring to look up into the blessed face of his Sire. "I listened to you, Sire. Please say that I did. Was I not a good childe?"

Angel frowned at Spike's words. Was he a good childe? To Angelus he had been... "Of course you were, Spike. But that was so long ago; you know that. It was different then. I was..."

"Angelus," Spike interjected. "And he raised up Spike. My childer did not obey me, Sire. They laughed at my frailties, ignored my directives. My eldest mocked my tears, jeered at my foibles when I spared the lives of humans."

Understanding began to dawn for Angel. Spike had Sired vampires, soulless vampires. Since Angel had never attempted to do so after receiving his soul, he had never really considered the ramifications. How would a fledgling react to a Sire who wept for those he'd killed, who suffered the pain of his victims? "Spike," Angel began softly. This incarnation of his childe was worrisome, almost frightening. He seemed only half there, and what was in front of Angel lacked the confidence and swagger of his beloved childe. This was a broken, hollow man.

::Please, Sire, I beg you. Take me back into your old, teach me, teach me what I do not know.:: Spike swayed on unsteady legs, finally feeling the effects of days without blood. He fell to the ground, kneeling at Angel's feet. Slowly, so slowly, he sank further down, down until his forehead pressed to the stone floor, hands resting on either side of Angel's feet.

Angel stared at his childe, at Spike who lay prostrate in front of him. How long had it been since Spike had willingly done this, put himself into his rightful place? Not for almost 150 years, long before Angel had been cursed. A long-forgotten emotion swept through Angel like a sun-warmed breeze.

Home.

The dank chill of the church fell away like so many autumn leaves. Spike was kneeling at his feet like a childe should, waiting for the first order of the night. Angel couldn't believe this, that Spike would willingly return to him. He was Angel, not Angelus; the souled bastard, not Spike's Yoda. This wasn't right, wasn't real, was just another of Spike's seedy games. "Get up," Angel ordered harshly, feeling a hard slap of cold hit his heart. It hurt him deeply to refuse what was his by rights, but if it was not offered in truth, he didn't want it.

::Accept me.:: Spike stood up, knowing from the tone of Angel's voice that he was being rejected. The younger vampire kept his head down, eyes fixed on the floor at Angel's feet. What would it take to convince Angel of his veracity?

"Go away, Spike, and take your games with you," Angel ordered in even, calm tones. "I don't have time for them."

Spike flinched. This was what he expected; less than he'd hoped but more than he deserved. "Yes, Sire," The blonde whispered brokenly. He moved stiffly towards the door. "As is your will," He murmured as he walked out into the night.

A memory woke up deep in Angel's mind. It uncurled from its sleep, winding around through blood and glory to pound on the door to the vampire's consciousness. Angel jerked as remembrance flooded him. Those words, moaned in sorrow, whenever Angel punished a young Spike. Those same words, panted in breathless pleasure when Angel granted him release. Angel knew he was damning himself even as he reached for the door.

"Spike."

::Sire?:: Spike stopped in his tracks, freezing on the sidewalk. ::Please, Sire, do not send me away.::

Angel watched as Spike stood, waiting. That stillness... he hadn't seen Spike be so still in more than a hundred years. Not since he had invited Spike to leave his tutelage. "Come here."

Spike immediately turned and walked to Angel, stopping about two feet from the elder vampire. Hands were left at his sides, head down, eyes locked on the ground. ::So close, almost there, touch me, remake me, Sire. Please just don't make me leave you.::

"One rule, Spike," Angel murmured, studying his childe. "Do not disobey me." That rule alone would tell Angel if Spike was serious. He desperately hoped the blonde vampire was, though. He needed this. Up until just a moment before, Angel hadn't realized that, but it was true. Angel desperately needed Spike, his childe, here with him. He needed this creature to fill all the holes he'd allowed to be carved into his life. The places Gabriel couldn't fill, the crevices left by time and nature and tears.

A single nod came in reply. ::I will never disobey you, Sire. I cannot.::

"Come inside," Angel commanded, "And bolt the door behind you. Then remove your clothes."

Angel retreated into the church, leaving Spike behind to obey him.