Long Journey Home

by SpikesKat

Spike had known it was going to happen. 

He’d felt his grandsire’s stare.  Had seen the way Angel had gripped the arm rests of his chair as the jet flew back across the Atlantic.  Away from her.  Away from his past.  Their pasts. 

Only… the reemergence of the Immortal had brought it all back in sharp detail.  The time they’d both been cuckolded by their respective sires – not that either he or Angelus had been the monogamous type.  It was just that they had a history with the Immortal. 

And seeing the Slayer shaking her ass on the dance floor with the git had brought it all home. 

Spike arched helplessly as the head of Angel’s cock brushed against his sensitive gland, causing him to see stars.  He bit his lip to keep from crying out. 

Not that Angelus would notice.  Or even care… 

He was only fucking Spike for one reason.  

To exorcise the demon that had taken hold upon seeing his supposed “true love” in the arms of his mortal enemy.  Never mind the she-wolf waiting for him back home. 

Angelus wasn’t even stroking him to make the experience pleasurable for the both of them.  No… his hands were clutching either side of Spike’s hips.  Holding him in place while the elder vamp plowed his ass mercilessly. 

It was enough to make him cry. 

Spike blamed his poncey emotions on the soul he now possessed.  Blamed it for letting him take his grandsire’s pain into himself.   

Quietly.  

Submissively. 

Even while his unbeating heart cried out for more… a tiny crumb of something. 

He felt Angelus’ movements pick up.  Driving into him. Tearing him. Felt his nails finally cut into his flesh, caving to the pressure that had been exerted by the other’s unyielding grip.  Spike tensed at the slight pain then forced his body to relax.  He could take it.  Could take all of it.  He’d become quite the expert over the years. 

It wasn’t the first time he’d been violated in such a manner by his grandsire.  When he’d been confined to his wheelchair, Angelus had torn into him often enough.  Much like he was doing now.  And for the same reason – to erase the memory of the blonde girl prominent in his mind.   

That, and the bastard had gotten off on Spike’s pain… and his helplessness. 

Spike had expected it then... after his grandsire had lost his soul.  Angelus was the alpha male, and Spike’s condition had made it impossible for him to fight back.  And he’d been determined to wipe any trace of the humanity he’d borne because of the soul.  Wanted to prove that he was all demon. 

In the beginning, Spike hadn’t even felt it – which had annoyed Angelus no end.  It wasn’t any fun for the vamp to stick it to him and not get a response.  Spike had taken a punch, or several, when his snarky comments about his grandsire’s lack of “bedroom skills” had failed to do it… get a “rise” out of him. 

But, then that day had come.   

The return of feeling to his lower extremities. 

Angelus had paid Spike back in full measure for having taunted him, leaving him to toss off once the wanker had finally left his bed and returned to Dru. 

He’d taken his grandsire’s punishment, his dick left hard and wanting, and silently counted the days until he could exact his revenge. 

The tire iron to the wanker’s head had been rather liberating for Spike.  That Angelus had completely discounted his presence… the icing on the cake.  If he’d not had to worry about the Slayer taking out Dru, Spike could have cheerfully lit into him for a good hour, maybe more. 

What Angel was doing to him now was worse, in his mind. 

The tosser supposedly had a soul, and should have been making with a bit of tenderness.  Or even a bit of touchy feely.  

Yeah, they were vampires and could enjoy a good rough and tumble.  But, Spike wasn’t even getting that.  It was like Angelus didn’t even care who he was sticking it to.  Or, if he did, he didn’t care that his partner got off at all. 

That’s what rankled. 

Spike had half a mind to throw the lummox off of him. 

Only… he’d waited too long.  

With a loud shout, some half-guttural groan of relief, Angel’s cock began twitching inside Spike’s abused passage, filling it.  His hips were slapping sporadically against Spike’s flank, helplessly caught up in his body’s release.  Nails digging further into his flesh, drawing more of his blood. 

Spike bit back another moan as his gland was stroked a few times… and then… nothing.   

Absolutely nothing. 

Angel stilled behind him, leaving Spike’s cock weeping with need, desperate to shoot his load.  Spike felt the loss when Angel pulled out and sat back on his haunches, far enough away so that he wouldn’t have to touch him. 

Kneeling there on the carpet, Spike forced himself not to react to his grandsire’s callous treatment.  He got to his feet, his body shaking, determined to ignore the vampire behind him; Spike would see the other in Hell before he revealed how much he was aching. 

Just once he’d like to fuck someone without it being like this.  Like he was unworthy of the affection –the completion – that could be found in the act. 

He wasn’t asking for hearts and flowers… or, hell, even words of love. 

He was just tired of being used.  Of being beneath anyone’s notice. 

Spike pulled up his jeans, not bothering to fasten them, and walked stiffly towards the back of the jet and the private room that was there.   

If he stayed in the main cabin area with his grandsire any longer, he’d be tempted to stake the unfeeling bastard.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel didn’t register Spike’s departure from the main cabin.  His eyes were staring transfixed at his dick, covered with cum and blood. 

His cum. Spike’s blood. 

The blinding rage that had overtaken him had lifted in the wake of his orgasm.  Leaving him heartsick at what he’d done to the younger vamp… and questioning how close to the surface Angelus seemed to be these days.   

His eyes filled with tears at how Spike had let him.  Let him grab him by the neck and throw him face first onto the carpet.  Let him yank his jeans down around his knees.  Let him ram his cock into his ass with no preparation at all. 

No snarky quips.  No hiss of pain.  Not even a moan had sprung from Spike’s lips. 

He’d just knelt there on all fours and let Angel use him. 

And Angel had too. His demon whispering the other’s transgressions so that Angel was exceptionally brutal. 

Not that he’d really needed any further encouragement once the smell of Spike’s blood had hit the air.   

At least Angel hadn’t bitten him.  That was the one saving grace that kept him from the hell of his own making.  That he’d not compounded the insult done him by draining Spike dry. 

Angel finally lifted his head, expecting Spike to be there in front of him.  Waiting.  When he wasn’t, Angel panicked.  Before he realized that Spike couldn’t have gone far. 

His gaze was drawn instinctively towards the back of the jet.   

To the closed door. 

He jumped to his feet, pulling frantically at his trousers, nearly catching his prick in the zipper in his haste to make things right with Spike. 

Not that he believed he actually could. 

But he had to try. 

Angel hesitated at the door.  He could hear Spike.  Should he knock and wait for an answer?  Or, just open the door? 

He settled on opening the door, figuring he’d wait forever to be granted entrance. 

His hand closed over the knob and gave it a slight twist, frowning slightly when it didn’t give.  Angel’s shoulders drooped.  Though the locked door wasn’t enough to actually keep him out, the message it implied nearly did. 

You’re not welcome. 

Angel ignored it and twisted the knob off in his hand. 

His gaze was instantly drawn to the figure on the bed.  How the light from the main cabin spilled onto Spike’s body in the darkened room, accentuating perfectly his nude body writhing on top of the comforter.   

Angel knew that Spike was aware of his presence, but that the younger vamp was pointedly ignoring him as he tried to get himself off.  The tip of Spike’s swollen cock leaked drops of precum, and Angel’s gaze was centered on the pearly liquid as he quickly stripped out of his clothes. 

It had been over a century since he’d had Spike’s cock in his mouth… but he still remembered the taste, the look on the younger vamp’s face as his mouth would swallow him whole.  The way his body would arch helplessly, how he’d beg so prettily to come. 

And when Spike finally did… 

Beautiful is what he was.  Angel had penciled hundreds of drawings, trying to capture the look of sublime pleasure on Spike’s face.  He’d never come close to the real thing. 

Ever. 

Angel sat on the edge of the bed and batted Spike’s hands away from his cock.  Then he took him in his mouth.  No teasing.  Just parted his lips and wrapped them around Spike’s shaft, lowering his head until the tip of Spike’s cock hit the back of his throat and his nose was buried in the wiry curls surrounding it. 

Spike’s fingers fisted in his hair, causing Angel to moan. 

The tiny vibrations were enough to send the younger vamp flying over the edge.   

His grip tightened in Angel’s hair and Spike arched his hips off the mattress, spilling his seed inside Angel’s more than willing mouth. 

Angel drank him down and licked him clean.  Only then did he lift his head to look at Spike’s face.  His eyes were closed, but the corners of his lips were turned upwards in the hint of a smile. 

He crawled up onto the bed and settled himself next to Spike, drawing the younger vamp up against his side so that Spike’s head lay on his shoulder – pleased when his silent urgings met with no resistance. 

Neither moved for the space of a minute, maybe two.  Even Spike’s needless panting had stilled.  Angel knew, however, that Spike’s eyes were now open.  And were no doubt clouded with confusion. 

“I am verra sorry, Will.  I dinna mean for you to bear the brunt of me ire.  I would offer… reparations.”  

Angel felt Spike stiffen next to him.  Felt him start to shake his head.  He stayed the motion, fingers sliding in to lightly grip the bleached locks now standing on end, guiding the younger vamp’s mouth to his neck. 

“I spilt yer blood… it’s only fair fer me to be givin’ it back. Drink, William…please.”  

With tears in his eyes, Spike did as Angel asked.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

At the first taste of blood on his tongue, Spike’s cock was hard and heavy, and poking into Angel’s stomach.  A second later, he was yanked atop his sire, and it wasn’t the other vamp’s stomach Spike was rubbing against, but Angel’s own throbbing erection. 

Spike growled around the flesh in his mouth, unwilling to give up his prize to shout his pleasure.  Though, he came close when Angel’s hands gripped his ass and started kneading softly… and the way their cocks rubbed against each another when Angel prompted him to move. 

He took another few swallows and stopped, his fangs still embedded in Angel’s throat.  Unwilling to give up that final connection. 

And, Angel seemed content to let him too – one hand leaving off from massaging his ass to play with the hairs on the nape of Spike’s neck, holding him in place. 

It was no small wonder that tears welled behind Spike’s closed lids, threatening to leak out and spill onto his cheeks.  Over a hundred years, and this was the closest he’d ever felt with his sire.  Hell, it was the closest Angel had let him get. 

They laid there like that, Spike draped over Angel, his mouth fused to his sire’s neck.  Both ignoring the twin erections crushed together.  They’d get to that later. 

For now, they were content to lie with their bodies entwined. 

Renewing their bond of blood… and of family.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike stared up at his sire poised above him, eyes clouded with lust… and steely resolve. 

“I won’t be a substitute.” 

“Yer not, Will.  Ye never were…” 

“And the she-pup?” he asked abruptly, causing Angel to stop on the brink of burying his cock deep inside Spike’s well-prepared hole, his concentrated look becoming one of disgruntlement. 

“You’re killin’ the mood,” Angel grumbled after sighing heavily. 

Spike couldn’t help but grin at the comment and the look on Angel’s face. 

“Can’t happen,” Spike told him smugly.  “’m fuckable anytime.” 

Angel had to admit, Spike was right.  Hell, he could parade Angel’s entire past in front of him and he’d still be hard and heavy for the vampire lying beneath him. 

“I’ll break it off as soon as we get back… satisfied?” 

Spike’s eyes softened for the barest of moments.  It was gone in the blink of an eye, his lips curling up across his teeth as he gifted Angel with a smirk.  Anything to hide how much the elder’s words meant to him. 

“Well?  What are you waiting for, Peaches?  You gonna shag me or not?” 

“Damn insolent…” Angel’s voice trailed off as he slid home. 

William. 

Just the sound of his name was enough to make Spike come.  Especially when it was spoken like that.  In that voice that said there was no place Angel would rather be than right there with him.  Fucking… no, making love to him. 

And damned if his grandsire wasn’t going to reduce him to a right poncey git… again.  Both with his whispered babblings – feels good, so tight, taking it all, so deep, William, my sweet boy, mine, mine, mine… – and the slow, steady rhythm Angel had struck up.   

Spike’s eyes started to drift shut, trying to shield himself from the other’s knowing gaze.  Unable to handle it if Angel mocked him for his feelings. 

“No… look at me,” Angel murmured, fisting one hand around Spike’s cock, pumping it in time with his own movements.  “I want to watch you come.” 

Reluctantly, Spike obeyed.  Staring up into eyes nearly black with lust, yet tempered by something else.   

Spike clung to that unnamed emotion in his sire’s gaze like a lifeline as Angel’s sweet torment became too much to bear and his cock erupted onto his pale chest and the hand still steadily stroking him… drawing out his orgasm until it became nigh unbearable.   

“Angelus…” 

Seeing the look of rapture upon Spike’s face, Angel allowed himself his own release, finally caving to the pressure of the tight muscles still contracting in the aftermath of Spike’s climax.  Squeezing his cock. 

He came with a roar, which the pilots no doubt heard.  But Angel didn’t care.  Collapsing on top of Spike, he chuckled briefly in amusement, causing the extremely satiated look to slip from Spike’s face.  Angel kissed him soundly before he could question why, not stopping until Spike was returning it with full measure. 

Only then did he pull away, sliding free of Spike and coming to rest beside him.  The pout that had formed on Spike’s lips at Angel’s withdrawal fading away as he was pulled up against Angel’s side until he was nearly laying on top of him again. 

“Go to sleep, Will… we’ll be landing in LA soon.” 

“Don’t wanna sleep,” Spike grumbled, nudging Angel’s thigh with his rapidly filling cock. 

Angel spared Spike’s growing erection a fond squeeze, determinedly ignoring how his own was beginning to swell. 

“Never did listen to me,” Angel complained.  Then hissed a breath when his cock was fisted in Spike’s hand.  Angel arched helpless into Spike’s grip.  “Fuck.” 

“That’s the idea…”  

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“What’r you doin’?” 

“Working.” 

“Doin’ what?” 

“Contract negotiations with the Klefur demons. Reading over the two mounds of paperwork on my desk.  Playing referee to Gunn and Wesley.  Avoiding Harmony and her annoying habit of interrupting me… I finally had to lock my damn door.” 

“Sounds boring… and naughty.” 

“Only you would think so,” Angel grumbled.   

Truthfully, he’d rather be upstairs with Spike.  Who was probably sitting on his couch with his booted feet propped on his coffee table, watching television on his wide screen plasma TV.   

It sucked being the CEO sometimes. 

“How ‘bout a quickie?” 

“I can’t… this stuff has to get done first.” 

“You’re no fun.” 

“Not right now anyway.  I’ll make it up to you when I come up later.” 

“You can make it up to me now…” 

“I told you—” 

“Put your hand on your cock.” 

“Excuse me?” Was that squeaky voice his? 

“I said, put your hand on your cock.  Is it hard?” 

“Spike… I told you.  I don’t have time—” 

“Don’t need a lot of time.” 

“Someone could walk in.” 

“You said you locked the door.” 

“So…” 

“So, you need to get rid of some of that tension… I can hear it in your voice.” 

Angel sighed, then did like Spike asked, not surprised when his cock lay limp inside his pants – it had been a long, tedious day at Wolfram & Hart. 

“I’m not wearing any clothes,” Spike told him.  “Just sitting here wankin’ off… Pull yourself out.  Imagine it’s me doin’ it, hidin’ underneath your desk, wanting to take you in my mouth.” 

Angel couldn’t suppress a groan at the image that leapt into his mind, and he shifted his grip on the phone, tucking it between his shoulder and ear so that he could have both hands free to work the fastenings of his pants. 

“Hard yet?” Spike asked. 

“Yes,” Angel hissed. 

“Wrap your hand around your dick… pump it nice and slow… just like I would.” 

“Spike.” 

“Feels good?  Doesn’t it?  I know just how to work you… don’t I?” 

Angel nodded shakily, forgetting for a moment that Spike couldn’t hear him. 

“Yes.”  He choked on the word, eyes rolling up in his head as he palmed himself. 

“Give us a squeeze… can’t have you going off too soon.” 

Angel muffled a groan, but again followed Spike’s prompts, squeezing himself around the base of his cock, preventing the orgasm that his touch and Spike’s words had him on the brink of. 

“Spike.” 

A plea. 

“Wanna come, do ya?” 

“Yes.” 

“Then let’s dance… Come on, luv.  Give it to me good.  It’s my mouth on you now… gonna suck you dry.” 

Angel’s hand was on overdrive, pumping his cock at a fevered pitch. 

Spike’s words sent him flying over the edge. 

“Come in my mouth… do it!” 

Angel leaned back in his chair and shot his load all over the underside of his desk, some dribbling down onto his hand.  Biting his lip to keep from shouting.  

Spike had no such compulsion… bellowing Angel’s name into the phone.   

Angel should be pissed that Spike had reduced him to having phone sex in his own office.  But, the heavy pants now coming through the phone were music to his ears.  He grinned and hung up the phone, then hastily tucked himself back into his pants. 

He wiped his hand on his pants and grabbed the contract lying on the top of the pile, staring at it blindly.  When the words on the page seemed to blur, he put down the packet of papers and walked swiftly to his silent elevator. 

Hell, he was the CEO.  If he wanted a noon-er, he damn well was going to take one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Bad day, pet?” Spike asked into the phone. 

“Dammit, Spike!  It’s Angel… just once do you think you could use it?” 

“I’ll take that as a yes.” 

Angel bit his lip to prevent another outburst like the first.  Spike was correct though; it had been a bad day.  And was getting steadily worse. 

“Anything I can do?” 

“Not unless you plan to be my whipping boy for the day,” Angel grumbled under his breath.  He sighed, leaning back in his chair, trying to make heads or tails of the contract resting on his lap.  “Sorry… didn’t mean to take my bad mood out on you.  Gimme ten minutes and I’ll be up.” 

“Ok…” 

“Uh… how was your day?  You were out with Wes?  Find what you needed?” 

“Yeah.  I did the grunt work, Wes’s workin’ up the particulars.  Knowing him, he’ll have something on your desk soon.” 

“Ok.” 

“I’ll see you in ten…” 

“Right… and Spike?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I really am sorry I snapped at you.” 

“Ta, mate.” 

Spike rung off and jumped to his feet, his mind already listing the things he’d need.  He snagged a piece of paper off the kitchen counter and scribbled a quick note, using a magnet to stick it to the refrigerator.  His sire was nothing if not predictable – into the apartment and straight to the fridge for a bag of blood.  It was good, because it would allow him a few extra minutes.  That is, if Angel actually stayed the ten minutes in his office like he said he was. 

The thought had him racing towards the bedroom, locking himself away. 

Ten minutes really wasn’t a long time in the grand scheme of things. 

In the closet, he grabbed the things he needed and carried his haul to the bed.  He set things up just so, knowing that anything not put in its proper place would result in an even harsher punishment. 

He deliberately left the riding crop in the wrong spot.  Yeah, he was a masochist.   

Spike had just locked himself into place when he heard the soft swish of the private elevator doors opening.  As predicted, heavy footsteps muffled by plush carpeting sounded in the living area, until they hit the tile in the kitchen.  A lengthy pause…  

He must have seen the note.  Good. 

The refrigerator door opened and then closed.  Microwave next – door opened, closed, buttons pushed, the soft hum as it heated his sire’s blood, a ding. 

A few minutes more and then the bedroom door would open. 

Already he could feel himself trying to stretch against the cuff locked around his cock.  Why had he worn the bloody thing again? 

Several more minutes passed, and still no Angel.  His arms were starting to go numb. 

Spike heard the television cut on and his eyes widened behind the blindfold.  Son of a— 

The bastard was going to let him hang here. 

Damned if it didn’t send a shiver down his spine.  

His sire knew well his role. 

Spike resigned himself to his fate. 

It was going to be one hell of a night.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angel nearly broke the glass that held his blood, his grip was so tight.  He’d thought nothing of it when he’d come back to the apartment he and Spike now shared and found him already in the bedroom.  In the weeks since their return from Italy, it was the norm for the pair to wind up in bed not long after Angel retired for the night from “work.” 

He’d walked into the kitchen, vaguely noticing its immaculate state – for once.  His hand stilling on the door handle of the fridge as he caught sight of Spike’s note. 

Bedroom. 

Say please. 

He’d let go of the handle, his hands shaking as he snatched the piece of paper from beneath the magnet, ignoring how the piece of plastic clattered to the floor as he read it again and again.   

Surely Spike hadn’t… 

His mind had replayed their brief conversation on the phone, his dick growing hard at recalling something about Spike being his whipping boy.  Angel had been ready to barge into the room and assuage his anger at the day’s events upon his childe’s body. 

Which was why he was sitting on the couch, staring mindlessly at some program on the television set, taking some time to calm down while he sipped his blood.  He heard the soft crack that signified his glass’ imminent shattering and forced himself to loosen his hold. 

Breathe, he silently commanded himself. 

But Angel found he couldn’t.  Since that time he’d raped Spike on their return flight from Italy, he’d taken pains never to let his anger get the better of him. 

That Spike was willing to be that outlet now damn near brought Angel to his knees. 

He left the TV on and got up off the couch to make his way to their bedroom. 

“Please,” he whispered upon reaching the closed door.   

Angel heard the lock give and smiled. 

The magically enhanced lock to his bedroom had been at the top of Angel’s list not long after Spike had moved in with him.  The corners of his mouth turned upwards in a half-smile in remembrance of the eyeful Wesley had received upon barging into his room unannounced – the frantic apologies he’d stammered over while covering his eyes and backing out of the room, quickly pulling the door closed. 

Spike had laughed at the loud slam that signified Wes’ hasty retreat from Angel’s apartment.  That had gotten Angel going, and the two had fallen upon one other clutching their sides in amusement, the intensity of their lovemaking forgotten in the face of the former watcher’s embarrassment. 

Wes had avoided the pair for two days, until Spike had tracked him down against Angel’s better judgment.  Whatever his childe had said seemed to have settled the waters, so to speak, because Wes was back in his office later that afternoon, red-faced, but attempting to work past it as he discussed some crisis he was trying to divert.  

Angel’s hand closed over the doorknob and twisted. 

He nearly lost the precious control he had upon seeing his childe chained so prettily across the room.  His entire body shook as he warred with himself, the saner part of himself telling him to flee, to get out of the room before he did something he might regret.  The other part, his inner Angelus, smirked at seeing Spike – naked, his cock bound tight, blindfolded and submissive – and everything else laid out perfectly – right down to his choice of toys… 

He toed off his shoes while his fingers went to work on the buttons of his shirt, using slow, deliberate motions to calm his nervousness. 

And he was nervous.  About all of this. 

Which was why he walked right up to Spike and nuzzled his neck, rather than towards the implements of pain. 

“Sire…” 

The breathy moan was a start, but Angel didn’t know if he could do it. 

“Spike… I…” 

“Laid everything out, just like you like it.  I remembered.” 

Angel nodded into Spike’s neck.  Yes, he’d remembered.  Angelus had taught him well. 

“Everything in its proper place…” he went on as if his sire wasn’t shaking against him, his tone submissive.  When Spike sensed that Angel wouldn’t or couldn’t do it, he broke from his role for a second, nuzzling his lover back. 

“Love you…” 

“Will…” 

Spike was back to form the next second.  Trying to get Angel to see, without outright telling him, that it was ok. 

“’ve done something bad, Sire.” 

Angel drew back abruptly. 

“You have?” he stammered out.  “What…?”  He coughed around the squeak in his voice.  “What did you do?” 

There… a bit more authoritative, Angel thought. 

“You’ll beat me if I tell you,” Spike confessed. 

“I’ll beat you if you don’t,” Angel growled back. 

Spike remained silent. 

Angel didn’t realize that this was part of the game, and he moved in, grabbing Spike’s hair and yanking his head back.  A slight smirk flashed across his lover’s face then was gone, and Angel shook his head at how easily he’d been manipulated. 

He released his childe with a disgusted snort and walked away to peruse the “toys” Spike had selected.  His eyes narrowed when he got a good look at them… and how one of them wasn’t where it was supposed to be.  Angel glanced over his shoulder, and sure enough, Spike was grinning in anticipation.  He grabbed the crop, testing its sting against the palm of his hand. 

When Angel finally turned around, the last bit of his nervousness was gone. 

“Appears someone needs remindin’ of a few things, boy.” 

“Yes, master.” 

God, he loved his childe.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Spike flopped back against the satin sheets, utterly spent.  Not even the dull pain he still felt in his arms and legs, or his ass, intruded upon his post-coital haze.   

It had taken a bit for Angel to get into the swing of things, but a few sarcastic comments had quickly brought the vampire around. 

He smiled in memory.   

Even with a soul, his grandsire had a way about him when it came to inflicting pain.  Blurring the line until each hit of whatever instrument Angel was using at the time had him begging prettily for more. 

He sidled closer to Angel once the other vamp had recovered enough to rouse himself from the foot of the bed, nearly purring his contentment as Angel wrapped his arms around his back and nuzzled his neck. 

“You all right,” Angel asked, his voice tinged with concern.  

“Bloody fantastic.” 

“You’d tell me—” 

“’m fine, Angelus.” 

Angel stiffened at the moniker, but when Spike did nothing more than lay there next to him, he relaxed a bit.  He figured he’d have to get used to it hearing the name spoken occasionally… at least behind closed doors.  His grandchilde couldn’t seem to wrap his head around the fact that it was simply “Angel.”  Though, the way he said it, with affection, rather than mockery, seemed to make it easier for Angel to bear hearing. 

God forbid if he had to listen to himself being called Liam all the time. 

“Ok.” 

“And you?  You ok?” 

The question startled him.  It took him a minute to actually answer Spike. 

“You know… I think I am.  All that CEO stuff, I think I can deal with it again.” 

“Good.” 

They lapsed into silence, neither quite ready to sleep just yet. 

Angel thought Spike had drifted off to sleep when he suddenly spoke again. 

“You know… if… you need to… you know… again… it’s ok…” 

His sire’s affectionate squeeze was the only indication Spike got that Angel had heard him.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“You don’t have to do this, you know.” 

“I want to.” 

“’s a big step. You do this…” 

“Spike.” 

“It won’t come off.” 

“That’s the idea.” 

They walked into the shop, Spike still protesting, Angel shooting down each one of his objections. Spike ignored the man bearing more tattoos than he had skin who greeted them, muttering under his breath about stupid sire’s with burrs up their arses. 

Angel rolled his eyes and took his seat. 

The tattoo artist began setting out his tools, taking the drawing that Angel held out to him.  He watched out of the corner of his eye the crazy blond that paced back and forth in his small shop. 

“Spike.  Sit down.  You’re scaring Todd.” 

“It’s cool, man,” Todd protested.  “So, you want this to wrap all the way around.” 

“Yes.  Like a real one.” 

“Colors?” 

“I don’t know… Hmm…. Spike?” 

“What?” he snapped. 

“Black ink?  Or colored?” 

“Make it the bloody rainbow for all I care.” 

Angel frowned up at his childe. 

“What is your problem?  You’ve been trying to talk me out of this since I told you about it the other day.” 

Spike fumbled around in his duster for his smokes, unwilling to meet his sire’s gaze. 

“William…” 

Spike’s bleak gaze met Angel’s understanding one. 

“What if you change your mind?  You can’t—” 

Angel was across the room and had Spike pinned up against the wall before he could finish his sentence.  Ignoring the other patrons in the shop, Angel kissed him hard, shutting Spike up the only way he knew how.  He ran roughshod over the other vamp until Spike was leaning heavily against him, his hands clutching Angel’s shoulders for support. 

He didn’t stop at a kiss either.   

Fisting his fingers in Spike’s hair, Angel yanked his head back, exposing his neck.  He bit deep, driving his fangs in as far as they’d go, drinking down the blood that flooded his mouth, just as he drank down his childe’s moans of pleasure.  Only when he felt Spike sag against him, did Angel stop, laving at the fresh marks he’d made. 

Finally, he lifted his head and stared down at Spike. 

“D’ye ken now?” 

Tears glistening in his eyes, Spike nodded. 

“Good… can I do this now?  I think Todd’s been rather patient…” 

“No sweat, man,” the tattoo artist called out.  “Take your time.” 

“I want one too,” Spike told him.  Neither had moved from their place against the wall. 

“Spike… you don’t have to—” 

“Now who’s trying to stop someone?”  His scarred brow rose in enquiry.  “Besides, ‘s not like I hadn’t planned on wearing the real thing.” 

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the small black velvet box.  He opened it revealing the matching rings. 

“When…?” 

“Day before you’d told me what you’d planned… Was just holdin’ on to ‘em for safe-keeping.” 

Angel ran his finger over both platinum rings. 

“Knew how much they meant to you…” 

“They’re beautiful.” 

“Bought ‘em with m’ own dosh… Few odd jobs here and there…” 

“Spike… you didn’t have to.” 

“Wanted to.” 

“Can I… can I wear it now?” 

“’s why I brought ‘em.  Figured we could wear ‘em on our right hand… until… you know… the swelling and whatnot goes down.” 

“You planned this all along,” Angel accused.   

“Well…” 

“So why were you putting up such a stink.” 

“Jus’ wanted to be sure,” Spike mumbled. “Don’t think my heart could take bein’ torn to shreds anymore.” 

“I’ll look after it.  And if I slip up, I give you permission to kick me in the ass.” 

“I have your word on that?” 

“Spike,” Angel growled. 

“What?” he asked innocently.  “’m just sayin’…” 

Angel rolled his eyes in exasperation.  Only Spike could take his emotions from one extreme to the other and back again in the blink of an eye. 

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