"Spike!"

   I spun and spotted him lurking in the shadows, a cigarette hanging off his
   lower lip like an undead caricature of a cartoon character. "Surprised to
   see me, ducks?" he asked, blowing smoke.

   "Yeah," I blurted automatically. "You're supposed to be in Sunnydale!"
   The prostitute turned to look at him, her expression clearly puzzled. She
   did not understand what was being said.

   "Well, I'm not."

   "Who's he?" the girl asked.

   "Spike," I answered. Oh God, Oh Goddess! What did Spike want?? To
   fight?! I was going to get my ass kicked!

   "The one and only," he confirmed. He stepped out and flung away his
   cigarette, advancing on me. He looked me up and down. "Well, well, if me
   old sire isn't a flogged fag! Sod a dog!" He blew more smoke to
   demonstrate his astonishment. "An' here I thought Willow was just ripping
   the piss outta me."

   My jaw dropped. Oh my Goddess! Spike had overheard my conversation with
   the prostitute and he thought... He thought!! He thought I was into S&M!!!
 

   Spike grinned and chuckled, clearly tickled pink with my exposure as a
   'whipped Nancy-boy'. "What are you doing here?" I demanded. Then his last
   words lambasted me.

   "Willow what?" I squawked. Excuse me...? Where did I leave my hearing
   aid? "Willow?!" I squeaked. Angel?! "What did heeee-shhheee say?!"
   Ripping the piss out of him?! Did he mean?! Golden showers?! Or wait!
   Was that some strange Spikeism for something more innocuous?

   Spike postured. He pranced and he preened. He claimed a spot on the
   sidewalk and turned it into his property. ""Willow told me all about you
   and your spanking fetish, you soddin' trotter. Gotta admit, didn't believe
   her at first." His eyebrows danced. "Thought the little minx was yankin'
   me chain!"

   "What?" I mouthed like an imbecile even though his words were perfectly
   plain. That is, after I ran them through a translation program in my head.
   Who the hell ever accused the Brits of speaking English?!

   "Willow 'fessed up to your little secret, my paddled petunia," Spike
   ridiculed. "About you...an' her...an' how she beats your lily white arse.
   Gotta say, it doesn't surprise me at all, at least, not about you. You
   giant POOF. Now Willow..." He trailed off significantly and nodded sagely.

   "What about Willow?!" What the hell had Angel been doing with my
   body?!!!!!!!!!!! Angel AND Spike?! In my body?! <<HYPER-VENTILATING>>

   "That's one filly wearin' the show halter an' kickin' up her heels outta
   the ring. Let's just say that until a few days ago, that the little vestal
   vixen sure had me fooled."

   He emphasized the taunt with a cocky lift of his eyebrows. Spike's
   eyebrows are obscene the way he uses them to convey lewd content. Someone
   should slap a "NCR-17" rating on his forehead in big red block letters.

   I sputtered, completely off-guard. OH Goddess! Was he saying what I
   thought he was saying?! "You and and Willow!" I shook my head in denial.
   I barely managed to utter my own name instead of Angel's.

   Spike grinned. "You could say that little vixen rides me hard and puts me
   away wet. Quite the sex kitten she is... But wait!" He smacked his
   forehead with the heel of his hand. "You wouldn't know that or your marbles
   would be runnin' all over the bloody sidewalk!" He smirked and strutted,
   thrusting his hips forward with cocky confidence.

   I was aghast.

   Angelus slipped right past my guard and grabbed control. Before I knew it,
   I was the one watching from the back of our head. Shock set me back twenty
   years of my life. In a heartbeat I had lost all control over the demon and
   Angel's body.

   Angelus snickered. "You're really a piece of work, Spike." He raised his
   hands, flapping his arms flamboyantly like a giant bird. "Flappin' an' a
   flouncin' like a big ol' peacock... You think I give a fuck if you're
   shaggin' that witch?"

   Spike missed a beat in his victory strut. He was a rooster having his
   little red wagon fixed. "Shut your gob!" he snapped.

   "Why, because it kills you that I'm not jealous?" Angelus taunted. "Here
   you are burning to rub my face in it that you've got a leg up on that dozy
   mare. Tell me, Spike, who am I supposed to be jealous of... Willow or
   *you*?

   Spike and I stood there like astonishment struck mute. For reasons I never
   understood, Angelus chose to go along with the "Willow is Angel and Angel
   Willow" charade. I think he did so because it suited his purposes. He saw
   it as a way of hurting Spike and getting to Angel.

   Spike had not responded so Angelus kept right on talking. "I hear that
   you've been fixed," Angelus commented, getting really close to Spike.
   "Little chip in your head." The demon tapped his temple. "Modifying your
   behavior."

   "Sod off," Spike retorted. "I can still kick your arse."

   Angelus sniggered. "My arse, my arse, my arse, it's always about my
   magnificent arse, isn't it, Spike?" Angelus wiggled the arse in question,
   doing a little dance. He moved expressively, shuffling his long, limber
   limbs about with flowing freedom.

   It was all about freedom. Angelus viewed his as fleeting--maybe only a few
   stolen moments--so he threw himself into them with hedonistic abandon. It
   should have reassured me that he thought I could regain control but it was
   an empty hope. Right then and there I was a lost lamb...

   Side note: what is it with all of the attention my "arse" seems to be
   attracting lately?! Maybe I should lease some space and start charging a
   viewing fee!

   Back to my dancing demon performing the butt-wiggle mamba. He was just
   plain scary. Angelus loved every minute of autonomy with insane and wanton
   pleasure. He had no pretenses, no inhibitions. Every feeling, every
   thought, and every impulse was on the surface, amplified a hundred times
   over by his dark nature.

   Spike's glazed gaze remained glued to my squirming ass. My demon had
   thrown him for a loop. His expression grew guarded as he tried to figure
   out what to make of this latest chapter in the inexplicable enigma that is
   Angel. I thought about trying to grab for control but an overwhelming sense
   of morbid curiosity made me want to let the scene play out a little further.

   "Know what?" Angelus said loudly. "I think you're here makin' a bunch of
   noise about my 'lily white arse' because I'm number one on your Shag List
   and it just fuckin' drives you nuts that you're not getting my cock up your
   arse," he mocked. "I am at the top of your Shag List, aren't I, Spike?"
   Angelus smirked.

   Spike exploded. "SOD OFF!" he shouted. Angelus had pushed him to flash
   point by punching too many hot buttons. The platinum vampire lunged for
   Angelus, who leapt backward with the dexterity of a cat. While we were
   airborne, my demon cackled and smirked like a madman, glorying in his verbal
   victory.

   The prostitute bolted. I cannot say that I blamed her. I would have too
   under similar circumstance. In fact, I wanted to, really badly, but I was
   stuck.

   Spike kept coming, tackling Angelus around the waist. His charge carried
   us straight back into the alley from which we had both emerged. Angelus
   blocked most of the punches but a hard blow caught him in the ribs and he
   threw Spike back.

   "You're so insecure in your own masculinity that you have to be vocally
   homophobic," Angelus gasped, evading Spike again as he bounced right back
   into battle.

   "Shut your gob!" Spike repeated fiercely.

   Punch, block, punch, block, kick, block... Spike did all of the
   attacking; Angelus all of the evading. My demon was not interested in
   fighting. He was playing.

   At this point, I was "wow'ing" over the seeming accuracy of Angelus'
   psychological assessment of Spike. "Wow!" Poor Spike! It all made so much
   sense! (I wonder if Angelus ate a psychiatrist at some point...?)

   "You can't bring yourself to admit that you're still lusting after your old
   sire since I abandoned you a hundred years ago," Angelus continued to
   heckle. "That's where all of this misplaced anger comes from."

   Spike roared and swung straight at his sire's face. Angelus sidestepped
   and grabbed Spike's arm, using the force of his own blow to propel him into
   a wall. Angelus pinned his child there, one arm behind his back. Spike
   struggled fiercely to escape but my demon had the physical advantage in size
   and strength.

   "I hate you, you effin' poof," Spike hissed.

   "Yeah, yeah, yeah," Angelus chanted, "Heard it all before." Grunting with
   exertion, he crushed Spike against the cement wall. Angelus pressed up
   against his child, spooning back to chest, hips to ass, thighs to thighs.

   IT was aching and hard, straining against the confines of underwear and
   pants. Angelus purred with pleasure, grinding against Spike's forcibly
   proffered ass. Spike growled in protest at the blatantly sexual contact.
   I nearly died of embarrassment AND arousal. Think frogs, frogs, frogs...

   RIBBIT...

   "Remember this, Spike?" Angelus murmured, nuzzling the crook of Spike's
   face with his mouth. With his child's face averted, my demon had complete
   access to Spike's exposed throat. His lips touched Spike's ear and the tip
   of his tongue traced the smooth column of his child's throat.

   Vampire tongues are cool and raspy, more catlike than human. It is a
   demonic quality but it is incredibly erotic. Spike shuddered, both
   attracted and repulsed, as a rough tongue smoothed over his flesh. I found
   myself being seduced right alongside Spike by the clever kisses and
   suckling. It was powerful and breathtaking. One hundred percent
   enthralling.

   I lost myself within Angelus.

   Spike bucked once, pouring all of his strength into a single attempt at
   escape. I rose and fell but held on, wrapping my arms tight about his
   chest. Instead of throwing me, Spike inadvertently contributed to my
   pleasure as he thrust back. His tight ass rubbed against my crotch.

   We landed off balance in a tangle but managed not to topple through a
   combined effort of entwined limbs stopping our fall. Spike twisted to face
   me. He may have intended to fight but I cut him off before he could react,
   stealing a kiss.

   My hands slid to his 'arse'. "Don't fight me, Spike," I whispered, as his
   upper lip slipped away from my teeth. I nipped his lips hard, alternating
   between upper and lower. I occasionally tasted the depths of his mouth with
   my tongue, and he opened to me eagerly. I lapped, flirted, and retreated
   again. He growled and I laughed. "Or do. I don't care. Either way is
   good."

   My fingertips squeezed hard into the denim of his black jeans. I gripped a
   cheek in either hand. Confused blue eyes opened to glare fiercely at me
   from under dark lashes. All of his hair used to be dark when I first
   brought him across.

   "You've lost your fuckin' marbles again," Spike assessed. His way of
   saying that I had lost my soul. He glared at me with accusing eyes. "All
   right. Who the hell did you fuck this time?"

   I chuckled. He was close but wrong. My pesky Wicca soul was still
   present. I could feel her banging around in the back of my head like the
   annoying clang of ancient plumbing. "You," I told him, showing teeth. "I
   fucked you in my mind and the fantasy was better than Bunny was in the
   flesh."

   Nonplused, he glowered. "I hate you," he hissed. His manner was petulant
   and pouty, a child spewing hate at a parent for being sent to bed early. I
   stared at him thoughtfully and tried to decide what to do with him.

   Fuck him or kill him? Decisions, decisions...

   What the fuck. I have always preferred violence to sex. Nothing is better
   than a good torture session, except maybe a great mind-fuck. A) Spike
   betrayed me. He had it coming. B) Killing him gave me a chance to stick it
   to my hated soul. Angel adores the little wanker. It would destroy him to
   discover that I had dusted the peroxide twit.

   Practically salivating with anticipation, it took all of my acting ability
   not to give myself away. "You know, Spike," I said, deliberately dropping
   my voice to a provocative whisper. The husky timber drew him in. I can
   enrapture nuns with my voice. Centuries of practice have taught me to weave
   spells of seduction.

   "What?" he demanded, eyes firmly on my mouth.

   "I can tolerate a lot of things from my children," I told him. "But
   betrayal isn't one of them. And I owe you big time for that crowbar." I
   drew my fist back.

   His eyes widened and he snapped from the daze to fighting readiness but it
   was too late. My fist caught him in the face. Another harder blow followed
   but I knew instantly that this fight was over before it began.

   Oh well, too bad... I would console myself by killing him slowly. Heh. I
   think some bloke wrote a love song about that... Damn Angel never did keep
   up with the times or I would know the artist's name.

   Oh lookie! Spike is getting to his feet! Maybe there is some fun left in
   this for me after all... Feeling playful, I decided to wait for Spike to
   stagger to his feet before I attacked again. I figured that it was mighty
   sporting of me...plus I would rather he fought desperately for his life
   before I staked him. I got more out of it that way.

   A good kill requires a certain amount of preparation... and participation.

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