I Put a Spell On You

Cinder

13floor@angelfire.com

Kind of a Buffy/Forever Knight crossover, but not. You'll see. A/X

PG this time. Promise. But lots of heart rending angst. If you know FK, you know why.

Distribution: list archives, WWOMB, Cleo, all others please ask

Summary: Sequel to This Mortal Dream. A killer is loose in LA and urban legends are turning out to be less than true.

Disclaimer: These characters are the blood sweat and tears of Joss Whedon. The duck lamp belongs to Schanke. Sydney appears courtesy of James Parriot.

Notes: Let me start by saying that I love Forever Knight. I have almost every episode on tape and I still go back and watch them. That having been said, I have no illusions about what sort of show FK was. It was cheesy and often silly. In good BtVS tradition I have tried to replicate that here. So, when you say to yourself something like "that's not factually accurate," just take a cue from MST3K, "you should really just relax." It's a cheesy sci-fi vampire show. Oh, and since we exist in the parameters of the Forever Knight show, these are Forever Knight vampires. If you're not familiar with the FK mythos, don't worry; I'll try to establish everything as I do it.

In making this story my idea was to start with the casting of Xander as stated in the challenge and then recast FK with Buffy characters. As I did so I found a whole new A/U for both shows which exists in a timeline all my own. For Jinn who waited so patiently.

By Cinder

The malicious melodies of the Clash wafted out over the club. Booze, sex and rock and roll oozed over one another like blood from a wound. Red glasses of a thick house wine, only for the locals, seemed to be in every other person's grasp as they wiggled and shimmied past one another.

At the bar a blonde man turned to the brunette next to him and raised his beer in salute. "Can I buy you another?" he asked, gesturing to the brunette's jack on the rocks.

"Who am I to turn down a free drink?" The brunette smiled and held out his glass for the bartender. "So, at the risk of sounding corny, come here often?"

"Actually, I do. I haven't seen you before."

"I just moved here, to LA. Want to try my fortune."

"Ahh." The blonde smiled. "If I wanted to get laid tonight this would be the part where I tell you I'm a talent agent."

"Are you?"

"No, I'm a doctor." He leaned back against the bar. "I can pretend to be one if you like." They smiled at one another.

"Want to walk me home?"

"I was hoping you would say that."

They both threw back the last of their drinks and then eased out of the bar, into the night. It was a little chill and crisp, perfect for walking.

"You always pick up people this easily?" the blonde asked.

"I have a weakness for it," the brunette admitted. "I like to think I can read people."

"And I read well?"

"Very well." He pulled the blonde close for a long kiss. "Very, very well."

*

The smooth satin sheets played havok with Angel's skin, sliding and slithering around him in an erotic dance of sensory delight. His ass played against them as he thrust into his own hand, his thighs sliding teasingly, without purchase. Errection heavy, he grasped it tightly, jacking it fast now. No more play. He had been teasing himself for long enough. Behind his eyes, he saw Xander stretched out in front of him, the young man's body open and willing. Oh, ye-

The phone rang.

Angel tried to ignore it.

It rang again.

And again.

And again.

The machine picked it up. "This is Dominguez, I'm either asleep or incommunicado. Leave your message at the sound of the beep."

"Hey, Dominguez?" his partner called, perkier than a six am espresso, "wakey wakey. We got work to do. Pick up the phone."

Groaning, knowing there was no way he could ignore this, Angel turned over and grabbed the phone off the hook. "Yes?"

"Get your butt down here to twenty-second and Lex. We got a dead one."

"It's twenty minutes to sundown...I mean, seven."

"Time waits for no sleepyheads," she shot back cheerfully.

"Great, great. I'll be there in about half an hour. I have to shower." He hung up before she could contradict that idea. Groaning again, he got out of bed and stumbled into the bathroom, where he turned the water to it's coldest setting.

*

Xander hopped from foot to foot at the edge of the crime scene, waiting for Angel and to get to him. "Wait till you see this."

Buffy caught up on his other side. "Why do you M.E. guys have to always be so cheerful 'bout the gruesome?" Summers asked.

"No, no, this is great," Xander insisted, leading them both into the apartment. "I don't know what killer extraordiair here was thinking, but this is downright classic." He lead them stright into the bathroom. The man's bloody body was reclining in a packed tub of ice. "Oh, and we found a note? Any guesses?"

"Your kidneys have been removed? Call an abulence?" Detective Buffy Summers asked.

"Bingo. Guess our killer just didn't know that procedure A illustrated here is certain death, ice or no ice. I have to get him on the table to be sure, but I bet he bled to death before he even had a chance to die of kidney failure."

"Don't you just love the way he bounces?" Buffy smiled, watching Xander bounce up and down on his toes like some sort of hyperactive grim reaper.

"Fine, fine," Xander pouted, "don't share my enthusiasm for urban legends gone wrong. I just think this is neat. Anybody else see that movie last year?"

"You go to horror movies?" Angel asked. "Isn't that sort of...grim?"

"Yeah, well, grim is part of my job." Xander smiled. "You know, they say it takes a special kind of person to be an M.E."

"Obviously they weren't kidding," Buffy told him. Looking over the bathroom, she picked up a piece of broken glass. "Mode of entry or struggle, you think?" she asked Angel.

"There are no windows broken in the house. Must have been a struggle. Had to have known the person though or there would have been forced entry."

"Curioser and curioser."

"Something like that." Angel smiled. "Better get back downtown. I think this is all just clean-up work."

"Sounds good to me."

Angel caught Xander's arm before they left the scene. "Nothing unusual? No...irregularities?"

"Claw marks, tooth marks, pentagrams or signs of the Apocalypse? That would be a no." He smiled. "This really does look like your garden variety botched crime. Criminals are not the smartest people on the planet, you know."

"That's a good thing."

"One for our side anyway," Xander agreed. He smiled. "I'll bring my report by later." Then he turned away and started supervising the removal of the body.

Angel caught up with Buffy. She was already climbing into Angel's caddie, trying to put her fingers on as little of the car as possible. "Have you thought about a paint job?" she asked him. "Green is just so ick!"

"Don't you read police reports? Green is never stolen." He slid behind the wheel.

"Pragmatist." She pulled out her notepad. "So, think it's a kidney eating demon of some sort? Maybe a world ending ritual? What about a Gorthian blood beast's midnight snack?"

"I asked Xander. He said nothing unusual. No bite marks, no claw marks and no signs of the Apocalypse."

"Handy to have an M.E. with an in."

Angel nodded. "So I figure this guy is just a perp. He heard the urban legend, found out just how much a kidney was worth and then decided to harvest a couple. I'm betting he wasn't planning on being a murderer."

"Hate to say it, but I think you're right. Ah, well, fight evil tomorrow night I guess." She stretched. "Hey, Mickey D's. Stop for dinner?"

Angel made a face. "You eat the worst stuff. Don't you know what all that fat will do to you?"

"Yup. Get me through paperwork. Pull over, pard-ner." She grinned. Angel sighed and pulled the caddie into the parking lot indicated.

*

"Bingo!" Xander almost danced for joy. Wesley looked up from where he was working across the room, raising an inquiring brow. "Oh, drugged. Found it."

"Good. Wouldn't want to think the underworld was getting soft." Wesley over-extended his arm and grimaced. Although he was back at work, his side was still not up to snuff.

"Not a chance." Xander frowned. "Sure you don't want me to do that one? I can."

"I've got it. Might as well just go home if I am not going to actually do my job."

"Well, that was my next suggestion. After all, the doc did say three more weeks of bed rest. You're really pushing it."

"I was going crazy sitting home alone. Besides, Doctor Harris, I missed your scintilating conversation." Wes gave him a weak smile.

"Haven't you ever heard of tape recorders. Plop one down when I'm working here alone. I talk to the corpses all night." He shivered. "It's a bit freaky actually."

"I should have guessed that a little thing like being alone wouldn't stop you from pontificating."

"Just call me pontif - no, that was coming out way wrong." He started to clean up. "All done over here. Want some assistance. That's the drug shooting, right?"

"Indeed it is. I've got it."

Xander wandered over anyway. "Looks interesting." He poked at a few bullet wounds.

"It's a drug shooting."

"Okay, so I tried." He shrugged. "Now that I'm over here I might as well help, huh."

Wesley sighed. "It seems that I have no choice."

"Oooo, good answer."

They worked in silence for a long time after that. Later, Xander volunteered to run the reports over to the station. Wes shot him a knowing look and shooed him in the direction of the door.

Outside the air had turned, stiffling. Damn! Xander moaned, getting into his little Nissan. Driving tonight was not going to be pleasant. Maybe he should be getting a new car. He flipped on the radio. Ahh, Spike. The Smiths' "Girlfriend in a Coma" wafted out over his ears. He pulled out, hoping he could get going at a good enough clip to get some air moving.

"Coma, coma, coma," Spike breathed into the mike after the song was over. "Feels like your pathetic little lives sometimes, doesn't it. Ol' Spikey knows. Ol' Spikey understands. The days blur into months, blur into years. Suddenly your grey and doddard and you don't remember the moment your blasted knees started to creak. You've got to get out, you've got to live. This isn't life, what you're living now. This is just existence. Have you seen the world? Have you known love? Have you tasted the fruit of those forbidden vines? Are you ready to die?"

Xander groaned. Why did Spike always hit home so hard. No, he wasn't ready to die. He wasn't even living now. He...he should ask Angel out, that's what he should do. No more pussy footing around. If Angel and Lindsey were going to play these games they seemed to be playing over him... He should ask one of them out already. He should get on with life. "White Rabbit" by Jefferson Airplane tortured his mind. Follow what rabbit down which hole? Oh, mind, do *not* go there. Xander groaned. It was already shaping up to be a very long night.

By the time he pulled into the station he was no closer to an answer. Taking a deep breath to clear his head, he walked inside.

"Hey, Lindsey, got the Howe case," he called, waving it. Might as well get the easy one out of the way first.

Lindsey uncurled himself from where he was standing much too close to his partner. "Thanks. You didn't have to bring this down. We would have come and got it."

"Had to get out of the office and clear my head."

"Ahhh." He opened it. "Snapped neck, huh?"

"Yeah, but we can't tell if it was before or after she took the fall down the stairs. The way her neck was bent, I gotta be honest, it was consistent with both. But old injuries. This chick was beat up before and bad. Probably lots. Give you three guesses as to who it was."

"Husband."

"Got it in one. Looked him up. He's been arrested twice for assaulting his wife, but never charged. If he didn't snap her neck I'm betting he pushed her."

"Thanks. You really didn't have to do that research." Lindsey grinned, that grin that made Xander all warm in the pit of his stomach. "This is great."

"No problem."

"He taking all your time?" Angel called from Xander's other side. He stepped closer, looming a bit.

"Is this good cop, bad cop?" Lindsey asked.

"Which one of us is bad?" Angel shot back.

"Uh," Xander held up a report folder more in an attempt to separate the two men than anything else. "Hey, Angel, got the Stewart case for you." He walked a little away so that the two men wouldn't be facing off against one another anymore. "Should Buffy hear this?" Angel motioned her over. "Well, death by exanguination, as I suspected. He bled to death way before the kidney's could even kick in as a problem. Both missing, by the way. Surgically removed. Looked pretty professional. Also, your glass, got it back from forensics yet?"

Angel shook his head. "Why?"

"You're gonna find traces of rohypnol on it. That's how our perp got him to hold still for this, drugged him. That's all I got." He handed the report to them. "I oughta get back before Wesley tries to do too much on his own."

"How is he?" Buffy asked.

"Still pretty bad off. He shouldn't be working, but that's Wes for you. He's my boss, not the other way around, so I can't very well send him home." Xander shrugged helplessly.

"Summers, Dominguez!" the Captain called from her office. She held up one of those tell-tale slips of white paper. "Got another one for you."

Buffy grabbed the paper from her. "We'll get right on it."

"Bum a ride with you guys?" Xander asked.

Angel nodded tersely as he turned and strode out of the station. Xander and Buffy ran to catch up with him. They piled into the caddie, Xander stretching out his long legs in the back seat.

When they walked onto the scene Xander felt like dij` vu. Another bathtub full of melting ice and one very dead body, blood leaking all over the place. Another smashed glass on the floor. The young woman looked barely old enough to drink. "Anybody seen this before?" he asked. No one replied. Almost on automatic he observed the crime scene, made his notations, saw that the proper pictures were taken, and then had the body taken down to the morgue. When he was done he found Buffy and Angel chatting.

"So, you go check on yours and I'll go check on mine," he was saying.

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"What's going on?" Xander asked.

"Just sorting things out. You ready to go?" Angel smiled at him, obviously trying to recover Xander's good will just a bit from the snarling match with Lindsey at the station.

"Yeah, yeah, we can go."

"I'm gonna drop you guys back at the station." He turned and walked out, again forcing Xander and Buffy to almost run to keep up.

*

They dropped Xander at his car. The night was still so hot. He flipped on the radio as he drove back to the morgue.

"...prancing about like a bloody poof, saving helpless maidens from things that go bump in the night. And what if this innocent maiden wants the company of someone tall, dark and dangerous? What then? Where has your chivalry gotten you? Kill the innocent just in case he's guilty." There was a long pause. "It's David Bowie night here at CERK. Call in your favorite Bowie song and if you aren't a complete ponce I won't make fun of you on the air."

"Scarey Monsters and Super Creeps" followed that esoteric rambling.

Xander considered calling in. It was usually a bit of fun. Better wait until he was actually doing the autopsy, he told himself with a snicker. Spike always liked that. Without thinking about it, he hit the gas.

Half-an-hour and two cheeseburgers later, Xander started making the Y incision into victim number two. He dialed with his other hand and then propped the phone up against his ear.

"Yeah, what the bloody Hell do you want?" Spike's voice answered.

"Hi, Spike. It's Xan."

The vampire could hardly forget the young man who dealt so closely in death. It suited his macabre image well to put Xander on the air. "Well, well, well, my friendly neighborhood mortician. Hold on. We're about to come back." There was a pause and then, "Evening again pretties, and I have dealer in death number three on the line. Xan, are you performing an autopsy right now?"

"Yeah."

"Delicious. And what did this person die of?"

"Exanguination."

"You're a treasure, Xan," Spike told him. "Any requests?"

"Velvet Goldmine."

"For you, anything." He could hear Spike cut off the radio connection. "You should come down to the Raven later. Tell the barkeep you're Xan and they'll be a drink for you, on me."

"Thanks."

"It's the least I can do for a fellow creature of the night." And then he hung up.

Xander took off his bloody gloves before pulling the phone away from his ear and hanging it up.

"Calling that show again?" Wesley asked.

"I find it amusing."

"Grim."

"And?"

"I didn't say anything."

*

Buffy pulled up outside the gallery. The front lights were out, but she went around to the side door and let herself in. The door banged behind her. A short, red-head jumped.

"Talk about giving a body a heart attack."

"Hey, Willow. Giles around?"

The man in question wandered out of the kitchen with his tea. "Buffy. Something wrong? Case we should know about?"

"It's probably nothing, but are there any organ stealing demons?"

"Several actually, some that actually eat the organs, others that...well, w-we won't get into what they do, but it isn't very nice. Why?"

"I'm on the track of soemthing. Xander, that's the M.E., he says no bite marks or claw marks and there haven't been any signs of strange rituals, but..." She shrugged.

"Human beings kill too." Willow patted her arm soothingly. "I don't like that either, but they do."

"I just want to be prepared if it isn't a human being."

"Of course." Giles put his tea down and picked up a rather dusty book. This far back the gallery was given over to many bookshelves. "What organs were taken specifically?"

"Kidneys."

"You know," Willow said, "there's a real black market in kidneys."

"I know. Like I said, I just want to be prepared. We're gonna catch this guy and then he is gonna be so sorry he ever set foot in my town."

*

It was a little after two by the time Xander was finished and out of work. He imediately made for the Raven. Maybe he would get lucky and finally get to meet the mysterious Spike in person.

True to his word, as soon as he said his name there was a wine glass in front of him filled with an incredible Merlot. Xander wasn't usually a wine drinker, but it felt right somehow. He noticed that most of the people in the club had wine glasses. Must be the in thing here, he thought to himself. Turning, he sipped cautiously and surveyed the dance floor.

"How'd you get them to bring out the good stuff?"

Xander turned. A blonde man next to him had spoken. "Oh, um, it's from Spike."

"You know him?"

"I'm death number three."

"That's an odd title." The man's green eyes glittered in the hazy light. His full lips speaking softer and softer forced Xander to lean in closer to hear him. "How did you come by it?"

"I call into his radio show sometimes. It's a bit complicated. Do you listen to it?"

"Can't say I do. Have you lived in LA long?"

"Yeah, I went to school here," Xander told him.

"For what?"

"I'm a doctor."

"What a coincidence, so am I."

*

"It's not your town," Spike told him blandly, blowing smoke in Angel's face. "Why should I tell you anything, you bloody pisser?"

"Safety of the food population?" Angel growled.

"Well, there is that." Spike poured himself a wineglass of blood. "Want some?"

"You know I don't drink human anymore."

"Oh, yes, your bloody nobility. How quaint." He swirled the glass, admiring the vintage's legs. "Very much too bad." He smiled, a little, twisted smile. "So, after tearing through the local demon population you've finally come to me."

"Who else would know?" Angel tried to shrug casually, but his muscles were coiled tighter than springs.

"Precisely. I don't know why you went to anyone else." He took another bloody sip. "So, you want to know if I've seen anyone suspicious come into my bar. Now, here's the true question; why would I tell you?"

"Like I said, he's preying on your food supply. Doesn't that concern you?"

"Plenty to go around."

"Spike," Angel warned.

"Soddin' poof!" He swallowed the rest of his glass in one gulp. "I saw him leave almost an hour ago with the pretty boy."

"What pretty boy?"

"What pretty boy?" Spike grinned maliciously. "Your pretty boy."

"Xander..."

"Better catch him while you can."

Angel spun around and raced out of the bar, his coat tails flapping behind him. Outside he skittered to a stop, trying to pick up Xander's scent. There, leading away to the left. Ducking behind the building, he took to the air. Above LA was a mass of black, building blotches and sliding, kaleidoscope lights. Picking out that one, elusive scent, he tracked Xander back to the M.E.'s own apartment.

When would Xander ever learn not to bring strays home?

The door was locked. Inside he could hear Sidney mewling and someone slamming around. There were two heartbeats, one very slow. Angel slammed himself up against the door until it opened, his body hitting with repeated thuds. The door buckled inward. Angel drew his gun and stepped into the dark apartment. Winding his way around the couch, he tracked both heartbeats to the bathroom.

"LAPD! Come out with your hands up!"

Shots rang out from the bathroom.

"Don't come any closer! I've got a hostage!" a strange voice yelled.

"Xander? Xander, are you all right?" Angel called. There was no answer. The slow heartbeat seemed to get even slower.

"He's all right, but I'll kill him if you don't let me walk out of here right now."

Angel risked a look around the corner. He could see the perp in the mirror, but, of course, the blonde man couldn't see the vampire. The blonde was holding a .45 to Xander's head. The poor kid looked to be unconscious. Because of the corner, the mirror was the only way to see, or not see as the case may be.

"And after you walk out? You can't carry him." Angel called back conversationally, watching the guy in the mirror.

"Shut-up and let me think."

"Think about this, a very, very long prison term. That's what you've got ahead of you. It'll go easier on you if you give up now."

"I said to shut-up!" He shoved the muzzle of his gun into Xander's temple, hard. Xander moaned, obviously not entirely unconscious. "I'll shoot him! I will!"

"Calm down. I just want you to think."

"Then shut-up!"

Angel let up for a moment, watching the blonde twitch in the mirror. He didn't move the gun from Xander's forehead. Softly he asked, "You don't really want to go down for murder, do you?"

"Stop bothering me and I won't!"

"You've got two choices, go away for a long time or a very long time, so make it now."

"This boy here has a very pretty skull. I'd hate to have to mess it up." The blonde's eyes darted about, looking for an escape. Xander turned onto his side with another moan. "Stop moving, you!"

"Hurt him and you won't live to regret it," Angel growled. Pulling into himself he took a deep breath he didn't need. He looked again. The blonde was standing now, assessing the window. "So, you're the one who's been cutting up bodies, huh? Making a little money on the black market?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Did you actually think putting someone in a bath of ice would keep him alive?"

"I've never killed anyone!"

"Maybe you haven't been reading the paper." Angel licked his lips and slowly set down his gun. "Your last two victims, they both died. You cut up Xander there and he'll die too."

"I don't know what you're talking about!" He had his hands up against the window, opening it slowly, as soundlessly as possible.

"That's his name, your hostage. His name is Xander. Did you know that?" Angel vamped out and darted around the corner, pinning the man against the wall before he could move. The blonde struggled hard, but Angel held him tight, squeezing his wrist until the man dropped the gun into the sink next to them. "His name is Xander and my name is Angel and you don't touch my mate!" He spun the blonde around, squeezing his throat. Angel's yellow eyes burned, his fangs extended and deadly. The man screamed. On the floor Xander shifted and moaned again.

"Angel," he called softly.

The vampire shut his eyes tight, counting backwards until he finally lost his gruesome visage. "You have the right to remain silent," he finally growled. "Anything you say can be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to - "

"What are you?" the blonde gibbered, shaking in pure terror. Angel could smell the acrid scent of urine on the floor.

He ignored him. "You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be assigned to you. Do you understand these rights?" Angel spun the man around again and cuffed him.

"What are you?"

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND THESE RIGHTS?"

"Yes, yes, don't hurt me!"

Angel prepared himself for an obvious retort, but behind him he heard a commotion. He stepped out of the bathroom to see Buffy come through Xander's destroyed front door with several uniforms.

"You could have called," she told him.

"I was kind of busy." He handed the perp to someone, he didn't look to see who. "Xander's hurt. Someone needs to help him."

"The EMTs are on their way up. We had to secure the area first."

Angel nodded. Even as they spoke several men in blue were rushing through. "How'd you find us?" he asked.

"Believe it or not, breaking down a door causes a lot of noise. One of the neighbors heard it and called us. Then again, the gunshots were a good tip too." She smiled. "Everything okay?"

Angel ran his hand through his hair reflexively, sitting down on the couch. "I think so. I'll feel better when I know Xander is okay."

"Dr. Harris?"

"Yeah."

"This is his apartment?"

"The very same."

"Weird." She sighed. "Let's let the physicians do their job and we'll go down to the station and get this perp cold."

"I want to see if he's all right."

"All right. Join me when you can." She left with several of the uniforms.

Angel sat for a long time waiting for the EMTs to come out of the bathroom. Finally they made an appearance more than half an hour later supporting a very stupefied looking Xander between them, a green blanket around his shoulders, an oxygen mask held over his nose and mouth. He plunked himself down on the couch and waved the EMTs away.

"Hey, Angel," he whispered

"Xander. Are you all right?"

"Think so. Remind me not to have beers on Spike anymore."

"What?" Angel snapped.

"Huh?" Xander asked stupidly. One of the EMTs took his arm and helped him to stand.

"You should really come with us down to the Emergency Room, Sir," he said.

"I'm fine. I don't want to leave," Xander protested.

"Sir, you've been drugged. You should really be checked out for...you should really be checked out."

"Oh, God, you don't think..." Xander's head fell into his hands. "You don't think..." The EMT stood patiently, not telling Xander that was exactly what he thought, but his tense stance said it all. Rohypnol had a common use after all. Xander's clothing had been disarray when he had been found. What else were they to think. Until they knew. Until they knew for sure.

"It'll be okay." Angel squeezed his hand. "The other victims...this guy didn't do that to them, right?"

"I never looked," Xander admitted weakly. "Not seriously. It wasn't an issue. It wasn't the cause of death after all. Oh, God." He started rocking himself.

Angel stroked his back soothingly. "There's no reason to believe - "

"Why not?"

"No," Angel told him softly, stroking his hair, "you never would have over-looked something like that."

"Who knows what I did, he did while I was out?"

Angel had no reply for that.

"Sir," the EMT tried again.

"Go with him," Angel told Xander quietly. "I'm going to go down to the station and make sure this guy goes away for good."

"Thanks." Xander squeezed his hand hard. Angel nodded. The EMTs led Xander away.

Down at the station, Angel found Buffy finishing up with the perp. "Did you get a confession?" he asked.

"Sung like a canary." She smiled. "Not like we really needed it, but the people of LA didn't need to pay for a trial either. How's Xander?"

"They took him to the hospital. He looked all right, but they wanted to make sure."

She nodded. "You know, the perp, he said something strange."

"What?"

"He said that your face, that it was weird. Any explanation for that?" She looked at him hard, just like a common criminal, or worse, a monster of the week.

"Face? Weird? Is he going for an insanity plea?" Angel swallowed hard, trying to keep his cool. His face remained impassive as usual.

"Yeah, maybe." She sighed. "Well, I'm off. Everything is finished up here. See you tomorrow." She yawned and stretched. "Time for bed." Then she left. Angel was just about to follow suit when the last voice he wanted to hear called his name.

"Dominguez!"

"What do you want, McDonald?"

Lindsey tried to smile congenially as he approached. It didn't work. "I heard Xander was hurt. What happened?"

"Bad luck. The perp just happened to pick him as a victim. I'm about to go pick him up from the hospital."

"You look beat. Want me to do it? I don't mind."

Yeah, and slime monsters don't stink. Out loud Angel replied, "No, that's all right. Still going strong. Anyway, I promised him I would. I should see this through." He picked up his coat.

"Let me go with you."

"There's no need."

"Xander is my friend. I want to make sure he's all right." Lindsey came toe to toe with him, blue eyes staring straight into brown.

"Really, there is really, really no need." They continued to stare at one another for a moment until they were broken apart by the not-so-polite cough of Faith Wilkins behind them.

"Lin, gotta go. Got a dead one down on Lex and Ninth."

Lindsey glared at Angel, his eyes telling the other man that the battle wasn't over. Inside Angel was crowing, but his face remained impassive.

At the hospital Xander was trying to be brave. They hadn't found any signs of...assault. No, say it. Rape. They hadn't found any signs of rape. But they wanted him to get counseling anyway. His loss of memory was going to haunt him. He knew it. They knew it. But he couldn't give into it. He neatly sidestepped all their offers, taking some numbers that he never intended to call and stuffing them as far into the bottom of his pocket as he could manage, someplace where the washing machine was sure to chew them up and spit them out.

Angel strode through the doors with the grace and ease of centuries. Being ruffled was not going to help his friend, he kept reminding himself. He stopped at the front desk. "Hi, Detective Dominguez, LAPD. I'm looking for Alexander Harris."

"Oh, right back here," the receptionist told him. "He's just about ready to go. Are you here to take his statement?"

"Actually, I'm his ride."

"Well, he'll certainly be glad to see you." She led him back to one of the curtained off areas. Xander was sitting on the bed, swinging his legs.

"Hey."

"Hey." The young man smiled shyly. "What's up? You need something from me?"

"Actually, I figured you needed a ride home."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Uh, yes, thank you." He grinned. "Thanks for thinking of me."

"Not a problem. By the time I got to the station, Buffy had already finished it. He confessed to everything. We've got him on two counts of murder and the assault."

"Yeah, the assault."

"Have you thought about seeing someone?"

"I'm fine," Xander snapped. Angel almost took a step backwards, the young man was so vehement. "Sorry. People have just been asking me that all night. Can we just go home?"

"I'll go find someone and get your paperwork moving along."

"Thanks."

*

Xander didn't stumble through his own door until nearly five-thirty in the am. Sidney crawled out from under the couch to greet him. He tried to play it like any other night, but as soon as he walked past the bathroom he had to look. Nothing out of place, just some police tape and boot marks. Nothing to show what might have happened. What could have happened.

Xander slid down against the wall opposite the door and just stared, tears rolling unchecked down his cheeks. He sat and sat, a long, long time.

*

"So, the whelp all right?"

Angel let himself in the door close to six only to find Spike in his kitchen.

"Pig's blood! What the bloody hell?!?" The blonde threw the wineglass of blood he'd poured for himself at the opposite wall, smashing it.

"Nice to see you too." He grabbed the remote on the table and pressed the button, closing the metal shutters over the windows. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"Just checking on the patrons in my bar."

"I didn't know you cared." Angel crossed his arms. "You should get out now. I'd prefer you didn't spend the day here."

"Why not? It's been too long, Sire." Spike wandered closer, black jeans flexing over what Angel knew were whipcord muscles of pale thighs. "Much, much too long."

"Leave."

"He calls into my show a lot."

"What?"

"That whelp of yours, he calls into my show a lot. I was just curious to see how he is. You know, since he's one of my most faithful listeners."

"Xander is fine."

"Good." Spike was close now, his breath hot on Angel's neck. "Let me stay."

"Go, Spike. Just go." Angel strangled out past the lump in his throat.

"You don't mean that." Walking slowly around him, Spike ran a pale hand over Angel's silk clad skin. "I think you're going to let me stay. I think you're going to drink the human blood I've got stored up in my veins." He molded himself to the older vampire's back, thrusting himself against Angel's ass. "I think you want me."

"Spike..."

"Deny it! I dare you."

Angel spun around and pinned Spike to the wall, his hand tight around Spike's throat. "Shut up!"

"Oh my, yes," Spike purred. "This is how a sire should act."

Angel couldn't help himself. Those beautiful lips were so close. He leaned in for a long kiss. Sweet, sweet lips. Spike kissed him back with all the ferocity of a cheetah guarding her kill, attacking the older vampire's lips ravenously.

"Upstairs," Angel finally told him.

"Yes, Sire."

*

Angel turned over, pulling away from the lukewarm body next to him. The clock next to the bed told him it was already three o'clock in the afternoon. Xander was probably fast asleep, he argued to himself, but he knew he had to call the mortal and see if he was all right, leave a message at least. Xander had looked so blank the night before.

He dialed up and let the phone ring.

"Hello?" The shadow of a voice picked up.

"Xander?"

"Hi, Angel."

The vampire frowned. Xander's voice was inflectionless and tired. "Are you all right?" There was no response. "Are you?"

"Guess."

He stood up and started pacing. It woke Spike, who turned over to look. "You don't sound okay. Did I wake you?"

"Can't sleep." Suddenly it all gushed out and Xander started sobbing. "I don't know! I don't know anything!"

"Shhh, shhh..." The vampire tried to soothe, but knew it was useless. The young man had to cry himself out. He sat on the edge of the bed to at least listen.

"There's someone knocking at the door," Xander whispered after a few minutes. "Oh, god, there's someone knocking at the door."

Angel had a few choice words for the sunlight that held him prisoner in his own home. "Get up slowly, Xander, and go to the peephole. See who it is."

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. I know you. You can do this."

His vampiric hearing detected the rustle of clothing as Xander stood and crept over to the door. "It's Lindsey," the young man breathed and then Angel heard the door open. He wanted to scream not to let that corrupt piece of shit in, but how could he? Xander needed someone and Lindsey was a friend. Someone not crippled by the light of day.

"Xander, you all right?" he heard the other detective ask.

"Not really."

"Can I come in?" He must have done so, because next he was closer to the phone and said, "who are you talking to?"

"Angel."

"Sit down over here on the couch. Here, cover up. You're freezing." Next, he said into the phone, "He's going to have to call you back."

"He needs me, Lindsey. Don't you hang up on me."

"Of course. I'll tell him."

"Lindsey! Don't you dare!" The phone clicked off as Lindsey hung up. Angel threw the receiver he'd been speaking into against the wall, smashing it into hundreds of pieces.

"Problem?" Spike asked.

"Get out."

"Kind of a bit of a jam here. Can't leave 'til the sun goes down." Spike lit a cigarette and seemed happy to smoke it in bed, lounging against the headboard like a pale sex-kitten.

Angel yanked the cigarette out of his mouth and smashed it under his foot. "I don't care how you do it. I don't care if you die doing it. Get out and get out now."

"Who put the burr up your ass?"

"Out! Now!"

Spike scrambled out of bed and threw on his clothes. "I'll just stay out of your way, all right?"

"I don't even want you in my line of sight."

"Got it."

True to his word, Spike stayed out of sight. Where ever he was hiding it was good enough for Angel. It gave him the room to sit around and brood until the sun went down, sipping liberally from a bottle of the butcher's best.

At eight-thirty-five he rushed up to Xander's apartment door. All inside was dark. He listened for a heartbeat. Nothing. No one home. He listened again. Not even Sidney. Where was he?

He jumped back into his car and broke every speed limit on his way to the morgue. Neither Wesley nor Xander were in when he got there. A short red-head met him at the door.

"Detective?"

"I'm looking for Dr. Harris."

The young man yawned. "I'm Dr. Osborne. Dr. Harris went to visit his grandmother. Is there something I can help you with?"

"No. Ahh, no. I was just wondering how he was."

The doctor shrugged poetically. "I'm just the stand-in."

"Of course. Thank you for your time." Angel left. On his drive back to the station he flipped on the radio. Spike was playing something about blowing someone in a movie theatre. An odd choice, Angel thought.

"Evening dear listeners," Spike came on after the song. "Tonight is trash your lover night here on CERK. I don't care what era it. I don't care what style it is. If it trashes your lover, I'm gonna play the bloody slop. Fuckers can all go to Hell in a hand basket and stuff the weaving up their asses. So, hi, welcome to Spike Night. Trash your lover."

What must have been a caller spoke over the air. Angel knew that voice. It was his Xander. "Is That All There Is."

"Got a particular version in mind?" Spike asked.

"PJ Harvey."

"Anything for you, ducks." The song followed, a long, haunting melody that Angel actually found he knew.

"Then I fell in love, head over heels in love, with the most wonderful boy in the world.
We would take long walks by the river or just sit for hours gazing into each other's eyes.
We were so very much in love.
Then one day he went away and I thought I'd die, but I didn't, and when I didn't I said to myself, "is that all there is to love?"

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing

I know what you must be saying to yourselves,
if that's the way she feels about it why doesn't she just end it all?
Oh, no, not me. I'm in no hurry for that final disappointment,
for I know just as well as I'm standing here talking to you,
when that final moment comes and I'm breathing my last breath, I'll be saying to myself

Is that all there is, is that all there is
If that's all there is my friends, then let's keep dancing
Let's break out the booze and have a ball
If that's all there is"

A tear rolled down the vampire's cheek.

END