::Oh, Sire, I love you. How could I have ever thought differently, even for a moment? The absurdity of my foolishness shames me; to even consider Drusilla to be any substitute for you... Hubris on my part, nothing less.:: Tears fell unbidden from dayskyblue eyes, anointing Angel's shoulders with passion. Slowly, regretfully, Spike eased himself out of his Sire's embrace and stood. He felt guilty about pulling on the garments Angel had given him, never wanting to hide himself from his Sire. But Angel had made it very clear; Spike's body was for him alone.

The kitchen was cold and gray with indirect evening light. Spike located the last of Angel's blood stores, noting that there wasn't really enough for both of them. Fortunately there was a bottle of rich red wine in one cabinet. Spike had found it whilst cleaning. It was still good, so he used it to flavor their meal. He was just about to pour off the now-heated blood when a noise caught his attention. It was not from Angel's bedroom, but from the front of the church. An intruder... Spike set the blood off the heat and quickly but silently strode into the building's main room.

A youngish man was standing near a confessional, looking around idly. He seemed to fit the place somehow, as faded as the church's draperies and just as still. As soon as Spike came out of the shadows, he had the man's attention.

"Hello," The stranger murmured, nodding deferentially. "Is Angel awake yet?"

Spike moved closer. He could take this one, if need be. Although taller than the vampire, this human was no match for him. "What do you want with him?" Spike asked flatly, eyes narrowing.

Much to his consternation, the man smiled. "I just want to talk to him, Spike."

Spike blinked. "How did you..."

"Angel tells me things," The man replied. "You're his favorite childe. Well, he didn't tell me that, not in so many words, but I could tell."

"How?" Spike asked, fascinated even in his wariness.

The young man slid down to sit in a nearby pew. "He talks sometimes. When he does, it's obvious. His eyes soften and he smiles a little."

"Who are you?" Spike asked, voice a bit harsh. He didn't like the idea of someone knowing more than he did about how his Sire felt about him. Even if hearing such things warmed his unbeating heart.

"I'm Gabriel," The young man answered. "He's probably not gotten around to mentioning me."

"Should he?" Spike murmured, mostly to himself.

Gabriel shrugged. "He might, he might not. It doesn't matter either way." He pushed himself off the pew and moved towards the door. "I've got to get back. Could you give him a message for me?"

"Sure," Spike muttered.

"There's a nest of fledges near the Old Fort. They're going to take on some street kids just before dawn," The man told Spike. The vampire watched him slip out the door. "And Spike?" Gabriel continued, letting his body hang between sunlight and religion. "It was nice to meet you."

Spike stared at the doors for several long minutes. Many questions roamed free in his mind, ones he wouldn't ask his Sire. Thinking of his Sire reminded Spike that there was blood cooling on the stove, so he returned to the kitchen. It only took a few endless minutes to reheat the blood.

Angel noted as he woke that he was unpleasantly alone. That wouldn't do; even after only two days he was addicted to his childe's presence. The elder vampire was just about to rise and find his errant lover, a host of reprimands set to fall from his lips, when Spike returned. Angel scowled at the silk shielding his childe, but softened at the welcome sight of blood. Perhaps he wouldn't be angry at Spike, not when the childe's absence was well-meant.

Spike shivered at the fierce frown on Angel's face, rushing to place the decanter of blood on the side table. He molted his silken shroud before climbing onto Angel's dais, preparing a chalice for his Sire.

Angel motioned Spike closer to him before accepting the chalice. He sipped at it leisurely, enjoying the heady bite of wine mixed into the blood. He took in a mouthful of the warm liquid and turned his head, sealing his mouth to Spike's. He then let the fluid flow between them.

Spike melted against Angel, lured by the seductive caress of his Sire's tongue. ::Ah, Angel, you give me too much! I could not possibly deserve this.::

His childe capitulated so sweetly, gave himself over with a totality that was so intoxicating, that Angel couldn't help but want to reward him. He pulled back and took another draught of blood, at the same time letting his fangs descend to slice his tongue. Then he returned to his childe.

The moan that followed reverberated deep into Angel's soul. Spike leaned forward, seeking more of this truly perfect substance. Wine and Sire's blood... Angel inside him, closer even than he had been the day before! ::I shall never leave you, Sire, not now. You have bound me, blood, soul and body. Where you lead I shall follow.::

Finally Angel drew back, knowing that this night was destined to be filled with the world outside their haven of stone. He quickly drank down the last of his meal, replacing the chalice in Spike's hands. "Drink," He commanded as he got out of bed. The elder vampire quickly went to his closet and dressed, refusing to look at the succubus that was in his bed. If he did, even for a second, they would spend the next hours there, locked in most pleasant combat.

Spike finished off the now-cool blood, watching as his Sire's perfect body was hidden from his sight by leather, denim and silk. It should have hurt, that Angel would choose to dress himself instead of allowing Spike to do it, but the blonde vampire was grateful for the reprieve. After that most intimate of kisses he knew he would be unable to stand. As Angel finished, Spike recalled his earlier conversation. "Gabriel was here."

Angel spun on his heel. "When?" He must have been deeply asleep to miss his grandson's arrival and departure. Then more serious thoughts crossed his mind. That meant that Spike had faced Gabriel alone. What had his grandson said? He would have recognized Spike; even as he was now, the younger vampire was a unique figure.

"Just before sundown," Spike replied softly. "He said that there was a nest of fledges near the Old Fort, who were going to attack some street children tonight, before dawn."

Angel sighed. And there, in one statement, was his evening. A long night spent away from home... away from his childe. Unless, of course, Spike came with him. He wasn't sure that was a good idea; even though Spike had a soul, he wasn't bound like Angel was to fight chaos. Still, he couldn't force Spike to stay here forever, with nothing to do. That wasn't fair, not to either of them. Of course, he should've thought of that when he was procuring clothing for Spike. What the younger vampire had shed in the foyer was unusable, and what Angel had gotten for him was more suited for candlelight and water than streets and violence. Ah, well... perhaps tomorrow night he would take Spike out. However, Spike still needed something to do whilst Angel was out... Fuck it all.

"Where are your clothes?" Angel asked his childe.

"In the hall closet; I washed them," Spike replied.

"Get dressed; we're going out." Spike moved to obey, fluid and ethereal even in his haste. Angel met him in the hall, holding two pairs of short swords. "Come on."

Spike restrained himself as he followed Angel out into the darkening night, trying not to laugh his joy to the awakening stars as he poured himself into the passenger seat of Angel's car. The dark vampire navigated through crowded streets, avoiding the street venders and pretty women, all selling shell games wrapped in scraps of tatty nylon silk.

Angel felt his childe fall into place behind him as they walked from his car to the spot where he'd seen a group of fledges. The scenario was eerily familiar; once upon a time Angelus and Spike had moved in a like manner, a hunting pair in eternal synchrony. This night was the witness to a reunion of sorts; two vampires found a rhythm they had once claimed as dead. The orchestration was hauntingly familiar yet simultaneously new; the strident wails of innocents replaced with the plaintive moans of the penitent. Still the song was poignant and sharp. Both Angel and Spike could hear it in their blood, see it in every movement.

Spike waited for Angel's signal, a sweet permission that was given without hesitation. The fledges were given no quarter; once released Spike was a motionless whirlwind, striking with a furious silence that left nothing but dust in its wake. Angel too was consumed by his fiery rage, a righteous vengeance falling upon those celestial features. Tonight, this night, his innocents would be spared. It mattered not to Angel that he saved them from this one demonic fate only to see them fall to another, more chemical one. It was Gabriel's path to fish such lonely souls out of the sea of despair; Angel simply kept them from being consumed by the deep-sea monsters.

The battle left Spike exhilarated; it had been far too long since his Sire and he had stood side by side, spilling blood together. This was better, far better, than before. The glory that surrounded them was bathed in light, not darkness. His body was singing, clawing at his own skin, wanting to complete this feast of blood with a deep taste of his precious Sire. He wanted, no--needed--to offer himself up to Angel, to be taken in a final act of blessed violence, to feel that terror slide softly into tenderness.

Angel beheaded the last fledge, watching as the dust settled upon a barren patch of deadened grass. He turned to Spike, already sensing an electric disquiet in his childe. Those crystalline eyes glowed, fractured and repaired, evening's light blinding them both. His body was next to Spike's before his mind realized that he'd moved. Razor-thin metal clattered upon stone as strong hands bent back that sculpted face, baring a swan's neck for his delectation.

Spike's eyes fluttered shut as Angel took claim of him. ::Take, Sire, drink. This blood in my veins is yours, waiting to bind us together. Take, Sire. Your blood has affianced me to you, may my blood complete this betrothal. Marry us, Sire, that we may never part.::

The street kids who had lingered to watch the show slowly faded into the night, unaware and uncaring of their good fortune. All they knew was that someone had dispatched of a rival gang, one made up of the 'others'. It was night now, time for them to find their solace, either in each other or in the goodness that was chemistry.

In one particularly dark alleyway, Gabriel watched the two men. And smiled.