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2007-09-25 02:59 am (UTC)
There's a hint of fellow-feeling in Spike's voice. "That's how it usually goes."
"Here's the thing, mate. Angel--" Spike waves a white hand in the air in the fond delusion that this is somehow helping his explanation -- "he doesn't operate like you lot." Humans, he means. "Not really, not when he gives a shit. He'll put up with a damn sight more than he used to 'cause he thinks he deserves it or some shit, but when it really matters -- it's his mission, we're his, and no one gets to decide what's theirs to share but Angel."
"This --" now the flapping hand indicates the two of them in colloquy -- "is treason. Or will be, if he finds out. And he always bloody finds out."
Spike isn't necessarily against treason, if that's what it takes. But Angel already hates him; he's used to it. Whereas Angel's trust, to the extent that he's got it, seems to mean something to Andrew. And Spike's noticed before that Andrew can be oddly deaf to the growl of power or territory. Maybe it's the soul turning him into a big girl's blouse, but he'd just as soon the boy understand the stakes.
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