( continues...) Xander's door. A minute later, he knocked again, louder.

"Keep your hair gel on!" came the dreaded, familiar voice.

The door opened; Angel braced himself, but he wasn't prepared to see Spike in all his naked glory, hair every which way, reeking of recent sex, and smiling in a pleased, predatory way that said payback was a bitch.

"Toldja," Spike called over his shoulder, then he leaned against the door frame. He sniffed audibly. "So . . . Slayer's word wasn't good enough, you had to double-check with Rupert, eh?"

"I--"

Xander came out of the bedroom, rubbing his eyes and running his fingers through his hair. He wore long, loose pants and nothing else. "Jesus, Spike, put something on or close the door. I've got neighbors."

"And your neighbors know you've got me."

"And they don't need to know everything you've got."

Angel barely listened. This was Xander Harris? Where was the lanky, twitchy teenager whose every molecule screamed inferiority issues? This young man was rolling his shoulders and twisting his torso, loosening his spine. Dark, sardonic eyes met Angel's through a fall of thick hair without any kind of flinch or apology.

"He's spoken for," Spike said flatly. "What are you doing here?"

Angel pulled his attention away from Xander. At least he knew what to expect from Spike. Which, he realized, was part of the problem. He'd seen Spike's challenging glare before, but it was the old, darker instincts that stirred in response. Angelus would only have allowed that challenge as long as it amused him, then slapped it away before re-establishing his dominance. Angel debated turning around and letting the apology go unsaid rather than allow himself to be in any sort of submissive position to Spike.

Xander went to the kitchen and came back with a bottle of water. "Maybe he's here to apologize for nearly fucking up that meeting with Grozier."

"Not hardly," Spike snorted. "This one doesn't apologize for anything."

Angel had to twitch at that. "Actually--look, can I come in?"

"No," Xander and Spike said at the same time.

"Fine, I'll do this in the hall." He made a show of fidgeting and eased a foot towards the doorway. It bumped against an invisible barrier.

Spike's smirk became more pronounced. "That's right, Peaches. I'm on this side and you're on that side. Tell your story and move along, you're only getting out of an arse-kicking because you showed up five minutes later than you could have."

Angel shrugged and shoved away the mental pictures. "I am here to apologize. I didn't realize what you two were up to, I thought you were part of a problem I'm having in LA. I'm sorry I nearly messed it up for you, and I hope it doesn't cause you problems in the future."

Spike found his voice first. "Damn right you nearly screwed everything up! We're two weeks from convincing those shitheads that Sunnyhell's not worth the grief of dealing with, and the great avenger comes tromping in on great bat feet to stick his nose in where it doesn't belong."

Xander stuck a hand over Spike's mouth. "Thank you," he said to Angel. "Good-bye."

Angel nodded and turned to leave. Maybe he was getting off lightly after all.

Or not.

"Oi, you call that an apology?" Spike had gotten free. "I want groveling! I never got away with anything like that piss poor apology in the old days."

Slowly, Angel turned. "Spike, that was a long, bad time ago--"

"It was barely four years ago," Spike snarled. "I can break it down into months, weeks, and days if you want."

Xander put a hand on Spike's shoulder. Angel closed his eyes. "You don't have to," he said softly. "I know."

"You know." Spike strode out into the hall. "Then don't you think I deserve a better apology?"

Angel opened his eyes to glare at Spike. "I made you do things no one should have to. No way in hell am I going to do them. Besides, I already apologized."

"You made me do worse just for taking a cigar without permission, I'm not (continued...)

( continues...) letting you off that easy."

"Spike!" Xander interrupted. "Get in here, you two. You're not having a Spike-Angelus smackdown in my hallway. Yes, that was an invitation, Angel, get your ass in here."

Angel walked into the apartment, amazed, and Spike sulked in after him. Xander closed the door firmly and glared at the pair of them. "As much as I'm in favor of making Angel grovel, I think we're losing the big picture."

"What big picture?" Spike frowned.

"He's working the same drug ring thing we are, just from the LA end."

"Oh, you are not suggesting we cooperate with him."

Angel let the argument fade away. As Xander gestured and his muscles flexed, the drawstring pants inched lower and lower. If he wasn't careful, one of those wide gestures could--

"Ow!" He rubbed his arm and glared at Spike.

"If I have to tell you one more time to keep your eyes to yourself," Spike snarled, "you're going to be losing them."

"You think you can try--"

"What the hell are you two on about now?" Xander demanded, hitching up his pants.

"Oh, as if you don't know, standing there like that," Angel snapped. He should never have come anywhere near these people.

"What? How is this my fault?"

Angel gaped at him, then turned to stare at Spike. Spike shrugged, and Angel looked at Xander. He turned back to Spike. "He has no clue, does he."

Spike's smirk was definitely pleased. "One of his best qualities, actually."

"And you let him wander around those sorts of demons without knowing what's going on?"

"He doesn't go anywhere near them without me."

"And that's enough to keep them off him?"

Spike snarled, but Xander's whistle interrupted anything more. "What are you two talking about? What do I have no clue about?"

Angel glanced at Spike, then shrugged. "That you're distractingly gorgeous, especially from a demonic point of view."

Xander's jaw dropped in disbelief rapidly followed by horror. He looked at Spike, who shrugged and nodded. "What he said, love."

"Oh my god, brain bleach!" He shook himself. "OK, this is some bizarre payback for us making you apologize. The demon magnet thing was a joke and a very temporary spell--right?"

"Demon magnet?" Angel repeated.

"Willow spell gone wrong," Spike said quickly. "Pay it no mind."

"Why am I--" Xander shuddered "--especially gorgeous to demons, pray tell?"

Spike grinned. "You go back and forth between 'so tough we just have to see what he can take' and 'how many pieces might he fall into if we pull out this little bit'. Plus you're just very nice to look at."

Xander stared at Spike in appalled disbelief, then looked at Angel, who shrugged. "Sorry. It's a demon thing. Except for the pleasant to look at part, which should appeal to just about anybody."

Xander shook himself. "You two were fighting just a couple of minutes ago. Why are you agreeing now?"

"I can hate him and still agree with him," Angel protested.

"Didn't the whole hot pokers to classical music thing take care of that?"

"Not hardly," Spike said.

"The hell it did," Angel added. "I owe you for that, boy."

"Not on your best day, poof."

"Fine!" Xander yelled. "It was a mistake thinking you two could work together, never mind, good-bye, Angel, drive safe, say Hi to Cordy for me."

One more glare to Spike and a nod to Xander, and Angel headed for the door.

"You still owe me a decent apology," Spike said.

Hand on the doorknob, Angel didn't turn. "I already apologized for interfering with your drug ring plan. There is no apology possible for everything else. Just leave it, Spike. 'I'm sorry' is just going to have to be enough." He turned the doorknob.

"I think you on your knees might be a fair start," Spike purred. "That's how all my apologies always started."

Angel let the door close and tried very hard to ignore the remembered images fighting for his attention. "No."

"One against how many hundred? Barely a nick in the (continued...)

( continues...) score."

How interesting to discover there were limits to how far he'd go in seeking his redemption. But maybe if it was anyone else but Spike, he wouldn't feel this hot iron resistance. He turned and looked at Spike. "Not from me, not to you, not in this or any other century." He expected the hatred in those hard blue eyes, but not the fury and not the pain.

Xander stepped forward cautiously. "Spike, just let him go. We don't need to have anything to do with him, just let him leave."

The boy smelled of Spike and sex, Angel noticed. The scent added sweet dimension to the memories that were escaping. Some of the offenses Spike had committed had been done purely as an excuse to apologize.

The sneer of memories dropped from Spike's voice, leaving just cold promise. "Your eyes track towards him one more millimeter with that on your mind, and I will take out your heart where you stand."

Angel knew what his smile had to look like, but he couldn't stop himself. "But I owe him an apology, too."

Spike was actually trembling. "You do not lay one hand on him, you keep your thoughts away from him, you will not do to him what you've done to everything else of mine I ever--"

Xander stepped up and put his arms around Spike. "Stop. Not going to happen. Leave it be."

The rage dropped from Spike, and he let his head fall forward, before rolling it to rest on Xander's shoulder.

What was a hope of redemption against that? Angel stared at them, feeling his soul scoured empty. "You don't need anything more from me, Spike," he whispered. "You already have your revenge."

Xander stared at him, every bit of the old hatred and resentment back in his eyes. Angel nodded and turned back to the door, but not before Spike raised his head. Contempt in those eyes was no more than Angel deserved. The anger and regret were more than he could deal with.

He said nothing and walked out the door.

Guh.

Very nice, connie. You've got that lovely tangle of emotions visible between Angel and Spike down to a tee.

Wow, very nice.

(Hanger should be hangar.)

You're the only one who caught that, Deena. t she says, trying to be impressed with your cleverness while beating all the other people who have read it, including her

Sorry?

I love the story, the twistiness, the bits of the past. It's good.

Sorry?

Me being all prima-donna-ish about my spelling and snarky about all the folks who read it before who didn't let me fix it before anyone else saw it.

Wow, Deena was able to read with her editing hat still on? My hat fell right the hell off within seconds.

Damn. Damn, that's good - and I can't remember the last time I read Spike/Xander, but, damn, you sell it. Gorgeous.

I try to remember to be true to my roots and post fic here, but I get forgetful.