Angel had been expecting a visitor since the moment Buffy had stepped outside of his office after their meeting.

It was a well known fact of life that there were eyes everywhere at Wolfram + Hart. The former Angel Investigations crew was always aware that every conference was subject to silent observers. But never was this more true than when Buffy Summers was one of the participants.

Just when Angel was beginning to think that his private meeting had actually been private, the person that the vampire had been expecting appeared.

And although appeared was a more than apt description of the way in which Angel’s visitor entered the office, person was no longer the correct term. In actuality, it hadn’t been the correct term form more than a century.

Not that vampire could be used anymore either. Then again, ghost wasn’t exactly the term for him, according to Fred. But whatever he was, he was still a thorn in Angel’s side.

“Spike. I was expecting you about ten minutes ago. The second Buffy closed the door, actually.”

“Well, had to make sure the Slayer was good and gone. Wouldn’t do to have her walking in and seeing me.” The blonde walked over to the couch and flopped on it, still somewhat amazed that he managed to sit on it instead of falling through it. “Besides, after what I just heard, I was trying to talk myself out of attempting to bust off enough of that wooden chair there to end you, good and proper.”

“Spike, you should just let me tell her . . .”

“Sod off! I told you no.” Spike didn’t want the slayer to know that he was around. Fred had no idea how long it might be before he disappeared for good, and there was no way of knowing if she could discover another way to make him corporeal before his time was up. Not that he regretted saving the girl’s life. But it was easier on Buffy and the others this way. They were dealing with his death. He didn’t want them to see him, just to have to loose him all over again when he was gone for good.

Angel, knowing that he would get nowhere with his grandchilde on the subject, turned his attention to second half of Spike’s statement.

“Wow, Spike, dusting as opposed to simple dismemberment. I must have really pissed you off today.”

Spike stormed to his feet and approached Angel, who was seated behind his desk. “Damned right, Peaches! How in the world could you give them that vision to deal with? Do you have any idea the danger you put them in? Did you even think about it?” He took in Angel’s mildly confused expression. “Of course not. You just needed to be the bloody hero. And since good old Wolfram + Hart can’t be trusted with the big stuff, you pawn it off on the Slayers. And letting the bit and the dragon work solo? Slayer’s lost her bloody mind!” Spike strode angrily away from Angel, then back towards him. “I may not have a body, but if anything happens to my kids, I’ll find a way to dust you. If it’s the last thing I do before I get dragged down to hell, I’ll take you with me.”

Angel stood from his chair and circled around Spike, stopping the blonde in his pacing in order to look into his blue eyes. “Your kids?”

“Yeah, Peaches. Dawn and Draco. They’re mine, mine to protect. I swore to the Slayer that I’d protect Dawn with my life. And Draco, he’s like my son. Closest I’ll ever get, anyways.”

“Your son?!” Angel was shocked by Spike’s declaration. He knew how protective Spike had been of Dawn, especially since loosing Buffy in the battle with Glory. But he had had no idea that Spike cared that much for the teenaged boy that Buffy now found herself the guardian of.

Spike sat again, his anger diffused by the thought of the young wizard. “Never had a childe. Minions, yeah, sure. But never a childe. Not like I was to Dru. Not like she was to you.” He looked up at his grandsire. “Thing about Draco is, he wanted to be mine.” Angel sat down, and the two rivals faced each other. “Have you met him yet?”

Angel nodded, “Just once, and not for very long. The day that they moved into the hotel.”

“Boy’s just like me, so Xander says. Blonde, slicked hair. Snarky attitude. English. Fan of the black clothes.”

Angel watched Spike run a hand through his own blonde locks at the memories. Now that Spike had pointed it out, Angel thought back to the boy, and could see the resemblance.

“Chubs started calling him Deadboy Junior Junior straight away. The others agreed that there were similarities, and would call him Junior Junior.” Spike shook his head and examined his hands, as if he still had trouble believing the story he was telling. “’Course, that was too long, and Red and Niblet started calling him J.J. Thing about it was, the kid never minded it. Not once.”

Spike turned to face Angel, a look of bewilderment in his bright blue eyes. “So, I asked him about it once, why he didn’t mind. He told me that he’d been called Junior all his life. Malfoy Junior, but Junior nonetheless. But being named after me, being my junior? He told me that it was the first time in his life that he didn’t mind. The only time it made him proud instead of ashamed.”

The blonde stood up and started pacing again. He and Angel had never been close, and he felt uncomfortable sharing these things with the older vampire. But his grandsire was the only one who would understand the bond he felt. It was as if he had sired Draco himself. “This mission, these people. They’re the ones he ran from, Angel. The ones he came to us to hide from. If they find Potter, which is their number one priority, they’ll find my J.J. And they will take him back to his biological father.”

He turned back to Angel, and the look in his eyes told of the reason he was one of the brutal Scourge of Europe. “He’s mine now. He told me so that day that I . . . “ Spike couldn’t quite say died. “Left. He told me that I was all the father that he’d ever want. I can’t let Malfoy have him back.”

Angel stood and faced Spike, wishing he could lay a comforting hand on his grandchilde’s shoulder.

“We may have our differences, Spike. And we may have tried to kill each other. But we’re still family, you and I. And that makes your child part of my family. I fight for what’s right for mine. I won’t let them take him, or hurt him. I won’t let them take the boy you consider a son.”

Angel sighed and strode out of his office, his mind heavy with thoughts of his own son. The one that, thanks to Wolfram + Hart and his own altruistic sacrifice, no one remembered. ‘I won’t let you loose J.J., Spike,’ the vampire thought to himself. ‘Not like I lost Connor.’