Title: Gargoyles don't cry!
Author: Shamenka
Rating: Very much NC-17
Fandom: Buffy - Angel
Warnings: RAPE, brutality, suicide attepmts - very, very dark angst.
Pairing: S/A (may change)
Archive: Dead Sexy. Mpreg, the lists if they want it and me - anyone else just has to ask OK?
Feedback: Please - this is a really dark fic for me and I'd love to know if it works or not. Get back to me at Shamenka@AOL.COM
Spoilers: Buffy - Crush onwards slightly. Angel - up to The thin dead line But from those points I go off at a tangent. Who said as per usual?
Disclaimer: I don't own the boys - just play with them.
Dedication: to Vixen - a great sounding board, thanks a bundle luv!
Note: Guest appearances by members of the Greek Pantheon
Note2: The writing style may be a bit different in this chapter - I've tried to reflect the Victorian setting by the language used. Their English differed from modern English-English in it's more structured form and sesquipedalian leanings! I hope it works.
Summary: What Buffy wants isn't quite what Spike gets.

Gargoyles don't cry!
By Shamenka

Exhaustion finally propelled Angel upstairs to collapse onto his bed; the sleep he feared didn't creep up on him, it ambushed him. In Morpheus' dubious care, he was trapped in his own memories, trapped in a very personal dreamtime. His own past, himself and the childe he drove to his death the only players. Not the recent past either, but a much more distant past. The night of his very first meeting with the man who would become first his beloved William, then be abandoned to become his troublesome William the Bloody and finally, in the fullness if time, his estranged childe Spike.

The warmth emanating from young William was far more than a simple physical reaction to his simply being alive. It was a true reflection of his inner being. It was his smile, his laugh, even his polite greeting to a stranger just before they collided. An apology, kissing his lips like carolling angels. It was all the dark haired vampire could do not to steal him away, Angelus had fallen hard for that so naive mortal in those first moments. And with no immediate ideas of turning him, not then, not ever, not really. Angelus was prepared to take all the time in the world in this angel's seduction. Somehow he knew it would be so worth it.

"Forgive me, sir, I wasn't paying sufficient attention. I trust I didn't hurt you at all through my dereliction of care and attention?" The brown haired young man reached out a hand to prevent Angelus from any possibility of falling over. His concern so very evident at the other man's somewhat stunned appearance. What he did not know, nor could possibly understand, was that the dark man before him was entranced by the pair of clear blue eyes that looked up to his own face so shyly. And the young man attached to those bluer than sky eyes was no hardship to look upon either. So pure, so innocent, so very ripe for corruption. He smiled, slowly letting it enter his own eyes, mimicking mortal friendliness to perfection.

"Why, good sir, 'tis surely not all your fault now. You're a full grown man and if I'd been paying any attention at all I'd surely have seen a man such as yourself quite clearly. That I didn't is clear indication of my own lack of attention. I trust I didn't hurt you either, young sir?" Angelus had turned on the charm, he let a hand drift over the nearest forearm, beseeching reassurances, welcoming platitudes. Touching but not gripping.

"I am quite well, quite fine." The young man blushed, like a delicate rose in full bloom. Ripe for Angelus to pick it. And Angelus had never had a greater interest in horticulture than he did at that moment.

"Liam, Liam Saunders" Angelus stuck his hand out towards the now stunned young man and grinned at him. Giving him a name, granted his own true forename but one of many false names he used to travel freely around the mortal world. Showing him a cheeky grin offered in open friendship. Finally his young quarry responded in true civilised manner.

"William Mansfield, hello." He took the pro-offered hand and shook it firmly, but briefly, returning the grin in full measure with one of his own.

"Well, William m'lad, how about you and I go sit in yonder coffee house and get better acquainted? I'm kinda fresh to London, just arrived back from Paris and find myself in need of a friendly face and good company." He lowered the intensity of his smile to a warm, jovial one. Less intimidating, more just openly friendly.

William responded as Liam thought he would, he glanced over to the coffee house Liam mentioned and then back at the man before him, finally he glanced at his pocket watch and smiled.

"Well, I could spare a little time, mother is not expecting me back for a full half of an hour yet. Yes, I'd be happy to join you." He smiled a little hesitantly and indicated the other side of the road. "Shall we adjourn to the coffee house and a far warmer and quieter arena in which to converse?"

"Surely, my friend, surely." Liam placed a light, almost glancing touch to the small of the younger man's back and ushered him safely over the busy street, dodging the mess from horses and the debris from such a densely populated city. And so began the painfully slow seduction of his William. His, and only his, gentle William.

It had been so easy to insinuate himself into this sweet young man's life, so shy and yet, so desperate for friendship. The young mortal had a deep seated hunger for attention. So Angelus took it upon himself to feed that hunger until that beautiful young man was satiated, and no longer so needful that he looked everywhere for friendship. His William now looked only to him to fulfil that need. They became a familiar pair in certain social circles. Angelus introduced his William to so many pleasures, but slowly. He had had the time to take it at his mortal's pace. His lady's were in the north, touring a few estates with the entourage of young nobles and moneyed young men that they had enraptured. Well away from the temptation that was his William, where he wanted them. For the moment.

Even though at first he was annoyed that he had been left behind, alone in London until serendipity brought him into collision with young William Mansfield. Where upon his new adventure begun. Angelus had so long enjoyed the seduction of the innocent that he revelled in this new game. A game of conquest. William soon lost himself in the far more ebullient personality that was his new friend Liam's charming self. Just as had been Angelus' intention. Not only did he loose his need for friendship to his new friend, he lost everything to him.

However, it was a far greater shock when Angelus had found himself lost and captive to his William in turn. In all his years of hunting, of preying on the mortal world he had never once lost his heart to a mortal. Most certainly he had never been this drawn to a man so innocent. And drawn he was.

It had been a good six weeks, filled with theatre, opera, even music halls and a great deal of laughter. The nights spun past them both in a plethora of very private dinners for two, long conversations, brief touches of fingers against gentle flesh. William had gladly given his innocence to his new friend. Just as Liam willingly gave his body to his William in return. It was a love affair.

It had been during one such late supper for just the two of them that Liam had hosted in his rooms that their friendship blossomed into the next stage. William was a swift and perceptive student, he had quickly learned how to use his lips and tongue and hands to pleasure Liam. Tasting the wine they had shared as they kissed. William had never questioned Liam about his much lower body temperature after Liam explained what he truly was. On the contrary, all he did on that memorable night they first made love was smile at his friend and suggest they built up the fire, even though it was a warmly comfortable Autumn evening.

"Why should we do that?" Liam quizzed his so very desired friend.

"It'll make you more comfortable to touch, to hold, to do this to.." And hesitantly, that shy, wanton man had slid a hand inside Liam's shirt to stroke the side of his friend's body.

"Sweet William, do you know what you're saying? For surely, this is the one and only chance you get to change your mind before I make you part of my heart forever!" Liam had truly believed he meant every word of his declaration. By the light he saw in his William's eyes, he knew his friend did believe Liam meant his offer.

"My dear Liam, I have graduated from Oxford University you know. I fully know what I am saying, what I am asking of you. If you are willing to teach - I am willing to learn." And he had leaned over and kissed Liam one more time, trailing that hand within the Irishman's shirt up his back to hold him close.

"Then slowly, my William, we go slowly. Come, let's eat!" And both man and vampire had laughed at Liam's declaration. It being common knowledge between them that only one of them would truly dine that night. William, as always, ate the food and watched, enraptured, as Liam drank his goblet of fresh blood. It had been such a pleasant shock to discover that his William was neither repulsed nor revolted by his true nature.

Liam had made a nest of blankets and pillows before the fire, settling his sweet William beneath him, helping him to divest himself of his confining garments. Many soft entreaties were shared, many voraciously hungry kisses.

They had gloried in their mutual exploration of their naked bodies. Delighting in the touch and feel of each other. Liam stroked William to an almost painful hardness, he whispered softly to him all the time. Showing him, telling him what they would do together, guiding his hands, and in an uncharacteristic moment, let his William take him as his gift for allowing him his virginity. Liam straddled William's hips after they had stretched him together, getting his William used to such activities. Sliding slowly, impaling himself on William's deliciously hard cock, for the first time in almost one hundred years Angelus was letting another man fuck him. This time by choice. Not since the Master had staked his authority over the vampire had Angelus allowed himself to be on the receiving end of this act. Whereas before it had been duty and his place to do this, this time it was all about joy. His and his William's.

"Buck up, meet me half way, my William. That's it, slowly at first, let's find ourselves a sweet pace." Liam kept up a litany of endearments and encouragments as he let his lovely boy fuck him. Never showing a seconds discomfort on his face, lest he frighten his boy off this act before it was his turn to take, he purred deep in his throat, showing his delight. They moved faster and faster, Liam guided William's gentle fingers around his own hard cock and the stroked together.

"You are so beautiful, so wonderful, so generous, so... so..." William ran out of sufficiently emotive terms right about the time he ran out of brain power to think them with. He gave up all pretence to civilisation as he felt the tension building up, the pressure in his groin was such it was fit to explode. Speeding up their stroking Liam brought himself ever closer to William's ready state, but William's body ran out of patience. The young mortal man orgasmed, for the first time he spilled his sexual fluids in the body of another person. He filled his beloved Liam. "I'msorryI'm sorrytooquicktoosoon..." It all became a jumble of sounds and words, but Liam knew what he was trying to say. The feelings so evident in William's eyes. Even now his lover's thoughts were for his enjoyment.

"Shhhh, sweet William, my turn will come. Now, if I'm not mistaken?" And he lifted himself free of William's softening cock, smiling, teasing, laughing. He rolled them to lie side by side, himself right behind William. "Are you ready, my William?"

"Yes!" William had hissed back, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Sweet love." Liam whispered, his fingers entering William, smoothing his way with oil, warmed by the fire William had wanted. He stretched and readied his lover, ensuring there would be as little pain as either humanly, or demonically, possible.

Slowly he entered his William, he knew that this time he wouldn't last too long himself. Which would no doubt be to his William's benefit. Not too much for his first time. He rocked William in time to his short thrusts into his strained but still willing body. The heat was beyond anything Angelus could remember. Even from his previous mortal conquest, though they were normally unwilling participants, William's willingness to love, to join with him was enough to drive him over the top so fast. He came in a drawn out silent scream, fighting the urge to sink his fangs into his William's neck and drink him dry. This was about sharing, not conquest, not about adding to his standing as a sire. This was about something almost forgotten in all his time as a vampire. This was about love. Angelus' own possessive, twisted love for the fragile young mortal now drifting off to sleep in his arms, trusting him.

Their time together was a time isolated from reality, a time out of time. Until that had telegram arrived. The one telling them that Angelus' ladies would be returning to London slightly ahead of schedule. The vampire's feelings on their immanent arrival had transmitted themselves to his beautiful William, and the young man had been smiling for him. Just as excited as he at the immanent return of his lover's family, because he knew how important his family was to Liam.

They had just finished making love, on a night so similar to their first. Before a fire, both warm to the touch, bitter and sweet with cum and sweat. Angelus had had the devine warmth of William's body, heart and soul, wrapped around him when he told the young man that his ladies were returning to London, soon. William had smiled at him, a warm, loving smile and leaned over him, stroking a single finger over his facial ridges. Unafraid now to touch either the man or the demon. In love with them equally, always tender. William never treated the demon any differently than he did the man, he loved both.

"And I know you'll be so happy to have them back by your side. Your mother and daughter, where you no doubt think they'll always belong. I can see you, so easily, as a really protective father. No one should ever be allowed to touch your children." William had smiled, a warm loving smile. He used the terms he was familiar with, but Angelus had understood his meaning well enough. He had had to agree that the young mortal was in no means in error in his assumptions. He was a somewhat controlling and jealous sire. He didn't like sharing. "It's a father's duty to protect his children, a son's duty to protect his parents after all. I should like to think that, in the fullness of time, once I wed, that I too would make such a good father as you do for your Drucilla. If you have time once they return I should like to meet your Drucilla. To find out if she is as fragile as my minds eye casts her." William had continued to smile, to touch, to shine his love on Angelus.

That had been William's downfall. The images of his William entwined with a woman, any woman, fathering children in her body. The jealousy and rage that filled Liam, caused his demon self to react before thinking.

"You are mine! No one else's! Least of all some bovine half witted girl's baby machine." In his rage he drained his young lover. In his immediate grief he fed him his own blood. And in his certainty at having destroyed the sweetness that had been his William, he left the demon to arise and die, unaccompanied, untutored, damned to perish in his first and last morning's sun. But never unmourned.

In his last look at what had been his precious William the vision was clouded, blood everywhere and that spiked collar he had found, wrapped around his long, sensitive neck. The discontinuity of that item shocked him awake.

That hadn't happened in 1873, it hadn't. That collar is a new addition. He knew where he'd gotten it, but now he felt he should know what it meant. The fear of his dream recurring dragged Angel from his bed and downstairs to the few reference books that remained from his sacking Wesley and the others. There was something about that collar, something that filled him with a greater dread than ever before.

***

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Gargoyles don't cry!
By Shamenka

Spike was sleeping again, dreaming, remembering his creation as a vampire and subsequent abandonment by Angelus, his creator. Only, he had known him as Liam at the time. He rather enjoyed the irony, that Angelus couldn't cope with the idea of him, poor little William, becoming a father. A real, flesh and blood, child born as a baby father. As opposed to simply siring some hapless soul into the ranks of vampires. And now here he was, almost a full 128 years later and Angelus had fulfilled that naive, childish dream for him. He was going to be that real father after all. Father, mother, all wrapped up in one package, and Angel would have nothing more to do with the child at all. It would be his child, the child Angelus had denied him all those years ago. His and his alone, his payment for all those mortal dreams he had had as a naive young man. And Angelus had ripped from him out of little more than spite. His unfulfilled dreams would be a reality, finally. At least one of them.

In his dreams he told Angel so many times, in so many ways about the karmic justice served upon him. In his dreams he practices saying things like, meet your son, meet your daughter and introducing a mortal, an adult, a child, even a baby, and telling the older vampire to fuck off and leave them alone. He heard himself explain how Angel would kill them, drain their blood as he had his own mortal family. Having to comfort a crying child, afraid that their other parent would came and eat them in the night. He dreamed of staking Angel, of letting his child see that he, or she, was safe.

He dreamed too of those years between his turning and his discovery by Drucilla. Those years he had struggled to learn about his new existence. How he had woken at first light and his hand had brushed against a sun beam and he had burned. His flesh had burned. It was then that he knew what his beloved Liam had done to him. He had turned him into a demon such as himself. And he had left him there to perish.

By night fall he was well aware that Liam was not going to return to him. He felt such a fool, he had trusted his beloved demon to not hurt him. And he had been betrayed. So, like injured children the world over, he had returned to his mother and her companion and told all. Even in his dream state he wondered why Liam had never questioned his acceptance of demons so readily. The dark haired vampire had never questioned his young mortal lover's ready belief at all, just rejoiced in his acceptance. Granted Liam had never met his mother or more especially her beloved companion, Mister Trasker.

Gronmann Trasker, or rather Gronmann the Trasker demon was the demonic equivalent to a watcher. They were archivists of demonic behaviour and their interactions with mortals. Which had led to his involvement with William's mother after her husband had died. Mister Trasker had taught the newly formed vampire what he needed to know for survival. He taught him to fit in and blend with both mortal and vapiric society. To make himself fully ready to join that same vampiric society when he was strong enough to survive. It was only after his mother died, of natural causes, that William abandoned his mortal life entirely and was reborn as Spike. Gronmann had identified Liam as Angelus, he had followed his family's progress around Europe, keeping his young charge informed as to where they were, what they were doing. Who they were killing. Comforting his adopted son when he couldn't fight off the tears any longer. A better father than Liam had proven to be.

In 1880 Gronmann had finally managed to get Spike in position to be 'found' by Drucilla, apart from her sire and grand sire. She was the easiest target, Angelus' weakest point. Spike seduced Drucilla in much the same way Liam had seduced him. Simply by accepting her as she was, he believed all her various visions where Angelus and Darla laughed at their abstracted form. Spike, with the help of Gronmann, managed to interpret quite a few for her. He understood her, which Angelus didn't. Where as her daddy created her, her beloved Spike understood the pixies in her head, so she was happy. She was saddened at the so very sad tale of her poor Spike's creation. She thought it very naughty of his sire to create a childe and abandon him like that, so being her own generous self she invited him to meet her family. In effect she adopted him as her own creation. A delusion Spike never called her on.

That had been a great moment. The look on Angelus' face as he finally met his childe's new playmate, Spike. He had heard so much about Drucilia's new friend, that he had indeed anticipated meeting him. Until he saw who it really was.

Spike saw it all in Liam's face, no not Liam, Angelus' face. And his hatred hardened, his determination to be avenged grew even firmer of purpose.

"Cripes, fancy it bein' you that's my Dru's sire? Ol' bastard features 'imself!" And Spike had smiled, seeing realisation cross his estranged sire's face. "What? Ya' thought I'd up and dusted didn't ya'? I thought you'd'ave been a bit brighter than that. Or did you think I was so far less intelligent, less resourceful than I really am?" That last was spoken in his own true accent, in his own true voice. A gentle whisper of accusation.

"William.." Angelus spoke the name for the first time in seven years, only to be interrupted by the former bearer of that name.

"Spike!" Spike snapped.

"What?" Angelus had been surprised and looked up at the still slender, ever youthful vampire before him.

"My name is Spike. William Mansfield died in 1873, remember, you were there when he died. Come to think of it, wasn't it you that killed the poor stupid ugly shit?" Spike faced his sire off, eye to eye.

"A childe does not challenge their sire, boy, ever!" Angelus snarled back, trying to force the younger vampire into backing down.

"A sire doesn't abandon childer to the sun on the very night of their creation. I have no sire! Just a creator and since he didn't identify himself as such I owe no allegiance to anyone. Least of all the likes of you." Spike then did the unthinkable, he turned his back on his sire and dismissed him as irrelevant to his existence. Which was no more than the truth, but a truth Angelus wouldn't accept. Fate had brought his William back into his life, this time he was determined to be a true Sire.

So it was then Angelus that did the unthinkable, he acknowledged a childe seven years after his creation.

"I am your sire, you are my childe, my property, my boy. You do not turn your back on me!" He had spun Spike back to face him and took him in a painfully tight embrace. "You are mine, forever now, don't ever forget that!" Which Spike never forgot, unlike Angelus who seemed to have a very convenient memory.

Again his dreams returned to facing down Angel.

"I am your childe, this is your child, say good bye Angel, we're leaving!" So many ways to say the same thing. To fulfil so many boyhood dreams of being a father, just like his father had been to him. Of being a good sire too, if ever he felt that need. As good a father and sire as Gronmann had been to him, and as tender.

He awoke resolved, but didn't get out of bed. He couldn't really see himself wandering around Olympus stark naked and asking all the various Gods and Goddesses if they could spare some clothes for him. So he stayed put, sure that Hera, or Oz, would come check up on him soon enough. There would be time enough then to get some clothes to wear and get back on his feet and on with his life.

***

In the offices of Angel Investigation, the breakaway firm, Wesley and Cordelia were talking, laughing about all the excitement Gunn wasn't really missing haven left early. Both looked as the door banged open and an agitated Angel walked in, straight up to the book shelf and tried to rummage for what he wanted. Cordelia tried to get between the angered vampire and the books, determined to have her say. Wesley tried to spring to her defence, instinct getting the better of good judgement, he heaved himself to his feet.

In his heightened state, Angel was aware of the fresh blood smell the moment Wesley ripped open his stitches. Yet another mortal young man, so reminiscent of his William, that he had let down, but at least this one he could something for.

"Delia, shut up and call an ambulance." He snarled at her, game-faced, getting her undivided attention for a few precious moments. "Wesley's burst some stitches."

"How do you know that, Mister Inscrutable?" The ire was back in Cordeilia's voice, and Angel had to admit he didn't like it. He deserved it and so much more than the young woman before him could ever guess. But he definitely didn't like it.

"I'm a vampire, you can look it up later, but first, call the bloody ambulance!" He didn't notice the use of one of Spike's favourite mild expletives creeping into his voice. Nor did he notice the more English cadence he gave his words. Not even Angelus' deliberately roughened brogue.

"Oh, God, oh God!" Delia dashed to the phone as Angel turned to Wesley and made him sit still.

"Why did you come here Angel? What did you need the books for?" The former watcher asked, trying to distract himself from the burning pain in his belly, and the blood seeping through his sweater.

"I found a thing, a collar, I used it on someone. And I messed up Wesley. I really messed up." Angel knelt before his former friend and almost prayed to him.

"Did you use it... this thing... did you use it on Darla? Drucilla?" Wesley watched the kneeling vampire's face for every emotion that flickered over it. The pain he found there left his own physical pain so greatly diminished in its wake.

"No, Darla's dead, so's Lindsay McDonald. I didn't put the collar, the thing I found, on either of them. No! I put it on Spike's neck before I..."He simply couldn't say it. "And now he's dead! He killed himself, and I made him do it , because Buffy phoned and I hurt him and he's dead. And I put the thing, the collar around him, and I know it's important what it was. I have to know." Angel finished his litany of horror in tears.

It was the first time Wesley had ever seen the vampire shed a tear over anything or anyone. It was the first time in so long that he had even seen a hint of the vampire's soul that he hated himself for what he was about to do. Use his former employer's pain in a brutal attempt to win back his friend's soul from all the vile darkness that surrounded it.

"What did this collar look like? I'm usually pretty good with objects, demon artefacts. I take it, it was a demon artifact, this collar?" Wesley looked directly into Angel's eyes and almost blanched at the pain he saw there. But concentrating on Angel was better than listening to Cordeilia fret about the time the ambulance was taking to arrive.

"It had these claws, spikes, when the collar closed around the wearers neck the spikes shot forward and pierced the flesh. There were four on the top and four on the bottom. When I closed it around Spike's neck I felt it warming up." Angel took a deep shuddering breath, to calm himself. To simply not throw up what little blood he had drunk earlier all over Wesley's lap.

"Pass me Gronmann's Catalogue. It's on the second shelf down?" He pointed to the bottle green leather bound book at the left the second shelf.

Angel stood up, shakily, and crossed to the shelves. Picking up the book Wesley requested, he idly opened it to the title page, then the dedication page and froze in place. Even Cordeilia knew something was deeply wrong as Angel began to shake. It was far more than a mere tremble. He was lost in a personal horror strong enough to almost shake his soul loose.

"What's wrong? Angel? What is it?" She reached his side and glanced at Wesley before turning back to the souled vampire. "Let me see, we can't help if you don't tell us what's wrong?" She eased the book out of Angel's hands and looked at the words written there. Looking from Angel to Wesley and back again she began to read the dedication aloud. Not understanding, but knowing it was somehow relevant to Angel's dire state. "Dedicated to William James Mansfield, my stepson, friend and greatest student. Victim of Angelus, fate and the Gods." She looked at Angel's whiter than ever face and then at Wesley's matching face. "Will someone tell me what's wrong? It's not like Angelus didn't bite people all the time, now is it? He was the really big bad, the evil incarnate one, wasn't he?"

"I'm sorry, Angel, I didn't think. Gronmann's the best reference on demonic artefacts. I simply didn't think... I'm sorry." Wesley turned to look at Cordeilia to explain. "William James Mansfield is far better known by the names he assumed once turned as a vampire. One of them was Spike. Angel's childe." Wesley again turned to Angel and this time he held his eyes, letting the vampire see both his sympathy and his accusation. "Only Angel, or Angelus as he was then, didn't stick around to instruct his childe in the finer points of survival. That was left to the writer of the book you're holding, his step father, sort of."

"I left him to die." Angel admitted, retrieving the book once more and giving it to Wesley.

The former watcher looked through the index for a collar matching Angel's description and took as deep a breath as he could before passing the book back. As the vampire read the words before him the doors opened and the ambulance crew finally entered. Wesley was prepped for travel and taken into the ambulance, Cordeilia had to usher the shocked vampire out the door.

"We'll follow in his car." She told the paramedics as they bundled Wesley into the relative safety of their vehicle. "Keys Angel, now!" She held out a hand and took the keys from Angel's numb fingers. She knew then that whatever was troubling Angel it was of paramount importance.

As they headed out the door the telephone started to wring, it's shrill tone filled the now quiet and empty room until the answering machine picked it up. The woman on the other end held the receiver from her ear and let the demon behind her listen in.

"See, no one's there, what shall I do now?" Her voice trembled as she spoke.

"Try later!" The demon replied, letting the woman live a little longer than intended.

In the car Cordeilia tried to get Angel to talk, to explain, to tell her just what was so wrong.

"Talk to me!" She demanded. Not really prepared to hear what Angel had to say, but knowing she was going to have to listen very carefully. She suspected that this would be a story he could tell only the once.

"The collar I put round Spike's neck is called Hera's Collar. I put it round his neck while I tortured him, and raped him, and then he staked himself. With the collar on he'd have been... stop the car!" He managed to hold on till the car screeched to a halt before he threw up. As he did so Cordeilia read the relevant passage and felt pretty damn sick to her stomach herself. When Spike suicided he took himself and a clump of cells that would have grown into Angel's baby with him.

Quietly, without complaint for once, she rode the agony of a vision while Angel came to terms with his actions, their consequences, and what might have beens. Time enough later to stop his own suicidal crusade. Even if it meant saving Wolfram and Hart in order to do it.

She vowed to herself that she would call Buffy in the morning and discover just what her involvement was, if any. She did recall her name being mentioned at some point. Then it would be past time to put her family back together again. If she could.

***

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