Just a note about the title of his chapter, suggested by my wonderful beta reader Alan. I didn't know what it meant, so I would think readers for whom English is not the primary language don't know either. Explanation by Alan aka Mountain William :

"Auld Lang Syne" is a folk song written (or adapted, or stolen) in the 1700" by the Scottish poet and traditionalist Robert Burns. The title literally means "Old Kindnesses". It is known throughout the English-speaking world, primarily because it is associated with New Year's celebrations and appreciation of the past, but also because hardly anyone knows the words! lol It seemed appropriate for a chapter dealing with drunken reminiscing!

Steven was feeling slightly nauseous, and he wasn’t sure if it was an effect of the alcohol or of Spike’s words. He had asked the vampire to tell him everything, and had no doubt that he had been given exactly that. Everything. A detailed description of what life – or rather, unlife – with Angelus, Darla and Drusilla was like. Though he had been more interested in hearing about his parents than about Dru.

It had taken a large number of alcoholic beverages for Spike to get through his narration, and for Steven to be able to listen to it. It had taken quite a few hours, too. Sunrise was close, and they were returning to the Hyperion, both a little unstable on their legs, both probably drunker than they appeared.

It was the first time that Steven had drunk so much. Angel had let him taste wine, a few times, on special occasions, but never more than a glass. He felt a strange mix of sensations, aware that his senses were affected but curiously not worried about it, a little amused by how difficult it was to walk straight, amazed by how clear his thoughts were. Everything seemed limpid; it was as if he had been offered all the answers to all the questions he had not even known he wanted to ask.

As he walked over an uneven bit of sidewalk, he stumbled, and would have found himself sprawled on the ground if not for Spike’s hand suddenly gripping his shoulder.

“’S not fair,” he complained. “How come you drank more than me and you can still walk straight?”

The blonde gave him his trademark smirk.

“I didn’t drink more than you,” he said mischievously, “I drank a lot more than you!”

It sounded so funny they both chuckled, and then resumed making their way toward the hotel.

Steven knew that all he had learned in the last few hours should have horrified him. Surely, he should have been running away from Spike, if not out right staking him. But that clear mind of his also knew that it was in all the past, that whatever Spike had done before, he was now a different person. And so was Angel.

At last they arrived home. They stumbled inside, both giggling at a joke Spike had been telling, both freezing at the sight that greeted them. Angel. Rising from the round sofa in the lobby. Looking very, very, VERY pissed off.

“Looks like we’re in trouble, kid,” Spike said in a mock whisper, grinning like a mad man.

“Yep,” Steven agreed, “daddy’s mad. Think he’s gonna punish us?”

“He won’t touch you,” the vampire assured him, still grinning. “But I pro’bly won’t be that lucky.”

As they talked, Angel approached, fists clenched tight and eyes completely gold as he glared at both of them. That was new. Steven couldn’t recall one single time when this fiery gaze had been directed at him.

“You two reek of alcohol,” the older man spat. “What did you do, bathe in it?”

Spike laughed. “No, daddy,” he said slowly, “we drank it. Though it was bad booze. ‘Should take the kid to Ireland and let him try some good Guinness.”

At that, he turned toward Steven, asking him almost thoughtfully:

“What d’ya think, kid? Feel like a little trip to the green land of your ancestors?”

Steven nodded, grinning as brightly as Spike was. “You coming, too?”

“Nah, it’s more of a father-son thing. ‘Sides, some bad memories there. The Leprechauns always made Dru crazier than…”

“Shut up!”

Both Steven and Spike jumped at the bellowed order. For a second, Steven had forgotten that his father was standing right there in front of them. He looked even more furious, if that was possible, and Steven got one of these clear flashes as to what had caused the outburst.

“It’s OK dad,” he said offhandedly. “I know about Dru. And her craziness. And why she was crazy.”

Angel’s eyes widened almost comically, and shifted from Steven back to Spike. A fist flew, followed by a loud noise as the blonde vampire crashed into the door behind him. Steven half turned to him, just to make sure he was alright, and was reassured by the smirk gracing the now split and bloody lips of his brother.

“’Told you daddy would be mad that I talked too much,” he said as he returned Steven’s gaze, completely ignoring Angel who was coming closer.

“I’m going to kill you this time!” the older vampire growled.

Before he could execute his threat, Steven placed a firm hand on his arm. It stopped Angel instantly, and brought back the eyes of fire to Steven.

“If you kill him because he told me,” the teenager enunciated slowly, “then you’ll have to kill me too, because I asked him to.”

Angel flinched visibly, and a little brown appeared within the gold.

“What did he tell you, exactly?” he asked in a quiet, almost hesitant voice.

Steven and Spike answered in perfect synchronization.

“Everything.”

“Everything?” Angel repeated as he swallowed with difficulty.

“From the night you made me to the night you were cursed,” Spike completed, and suddenly he didn’t sound inebriated at all.

Gold flared once more in Angel’s eyes, and Steven tightened his hold on his arm before he could think about hurting Spike again.

“I had to know, dad,” he said with difficulty, the words struggling to get out all at once. “I needed to know exactly who you were back then. What you did. I couldn’t keep wondering all my life what it was that you didn’t want me to know.”

Angel shook his head slowly. All the fire was gone from his eyes, replaced with unshed tears. He looked pained by Steven’s words, as well as a little afraid, and the teenager thought he knew what his father was afraid of.

“It wasn’t me,” Angel mumbled. “Angelus…”

His voice trailed as Steven’s lips curved into a smile. Not a stupid grin as before, just a warm, true smile. He squeezed Angel’s arm, an awkward gesture that he hoped was soothing.

“I know, dad.”

Slowly, hesitantly, a smile crept up on Angel’s face, a little uncertain, as if he had just realized that Steven kept calling him ‘dad’, and didn’t dare believe his words.

“You’re not…upset?” he asked tentatively.

Steven shook his head. “To tell the truth,” he admitted, “I imagined much worse that what you actually did. So it’s kind of a relief to know at last.”

A bit shyly, Steven crossed the distance that separated him for his father.

Leaning against the door, Spike was absently running his tongue on his bloody lips as he watched father and son embrace. The kid had been imagining worse of Angel than what Spike had told him? Wow. Impressive. For the imagination alone, there was no doubt whose son he was.

As the hug continued, Spike started to get annoyed. The Poof could turn into Angelus with him all he wanted, it was much better as far as he was concerned than the all too mushy Angel that Steven had to deal with. And there they went. Both crying now. At least the kid had an excuse, drunk as he was. He decided it was time to bring a stop to the sappy scene in front of him.

“Peaches,” Spike said loudly, “where is my room?”

They separated at last, and Angel ran a hand over his son’s hair. His eyes turned to Spike again, and all the anger was gone. So, maybe telling the kid what he wanted to know hadn’t been such a bad idea after all. At times, Spike had hesitated, uncertain on whether to mention a few things. In the end, he had just told the story completely, with all its details, even the ones he used to think he would rather die than let anyone know about. The alcohol had helped to let all of it out, but, thanks to vampire constitution and Angel’s oh so tender gesture, he was mostly sober now. Though the hangover already lurked and promised to be dreadful.

Angel gave him directions to his room, telling him also that Buffy had waited for most of the night for him, before giving up an hour before and going to bed. Although the question was burning his lips, Spike didn’t ask what they had discussed for that long. If Buffy had talked more about him with Angel, Spike wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

Thinking of Buffy brought back painful thoughts and questions. She had told – no, complained – to Angel about his hunt, mere hours after telling Spike he was forgiven. She had discussed with the older vampire about being claimed, and Spike was certain Angel wouldn’t have talked about that particular subject first. Where had she learned about Mates? Why hadn’t she mentioned it to Spike? As he reached their room, he froze with his hand on the doorknob. He remembered, all too clearly, how she had refused him their bed just the night before. This time, he was the one who had reasons to be upset. He let go of the door and walked to the next room. The bed wasn’t made, but that wasn’t a problem. He shrugged out of his duster, took off his boots, and let himself fall on the bare mattress. Alone, again. Eyes wide open and staring at the ceiling, again. Unable to sleep, again.