Angel climbed into his bed, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to sleep. His body ached for rest but his thoughts were keeping him awake. He had to decide whether Spike lived or died. It wasn't fair. He hated being the one who had to make all the hard decisions.

"Well look at you."

An annoying yet somewhat defeated sounding voice said in the darkness.

"Oh no. No, no, no."

He couldn't deal with this right now.

"Sitting in luxury's ample lap. Top of the world…looking down on…Well, everyone. It's good to be king, innit?"

If he only knew…

"Ground rules: Haunt me all you want during business hours but this space, off-limits."

It was easier to act annoyed than to let him know the truth.

"Relax beefcake; I didn't come for a fight."

"Really?"

For a moment he forgot Spike was non-corporeal.

"Not that I could, right? Can't touch. Can't affect anything."

God how he had missed Spike. How many nights had he spent alone, thinking of those lips, those hands? And now he was here-in his bedroom-and Spike couldn't touch anything. Or be touched.

"Yeah, I over heard your little group powwow about me."

Shit!

"How much?"

"Enough of enough."

SHIT!!

"Look Spike-"

"Necromancer tried to make a deal with me."

"What?"

If Necromancer tried to hurt his Spike he'd kill him.

"Said he could bring me back, body and soul, if I used our close personal relationship to double-cross you."

That sentence conjured more memories of Spike. Spike's lips, Spike's ass…

"Tempting. And what'd you say?"

"You see, right there. That's the problem. You having to ask me that. I don't play for that side anymore, or haven't you heard? Besides, even if Mr. Death could do what he promised I trust him about as much as you trust me."

Spike sounded so defeated. Angel knew what it was like, trying to be a good man while having to live with all the horrible things he'd done. And he knew that Spike wanted him to realise that he was trying, but for some reason he just couldn't give him that. What was wrong with him? No wonder Spike hated him

"What do you want from me?"

Although he thought he knew. It was the thing Angel had wanted every day since Darla left him right up until he met Doyle, and some days after.

"I can't live like this, Angel. Being useless. Being nothing."

And Angel already knew what Spike is going to say. And even though it would break his heart he couldn't let his grand-childe suffer.

"I want it to end."