A white haired, ice eyed demon moved with wraith-like stealth,
slipping
through the darkest of LA's shadows. He moved without
sound and or the
slightest misspent motion that might betray his presence.
Spike eyed his quarry with deliberation, watching as Angel
wove a path
through the mortal crowd. During his last trip to LA pursuing
the Ring of
Amara, things between Spike and Angel had been left unfinished.
This time,
Spike had returned for one reason and one reason alone:
to settle accounts
once and for all. It was a time of reckoning.
Spike followed Angel into the Korean quarter, puzzling
over the way the
older vampire moved. Something about it didn't sit well
with the blonde.
Something was very, very wrong. Angel's bearing and stride
lacked his
customary grace and control. He reminded Spike more of
a big lolling pup
than the vampire who had terrified the whole of Europe.
The swarmy mass of humanity -- pushers, pimps, peddlers,
and prostitutes --
pulsed about the immortals, leaving them untouched. Angel
chose a place to
lurk near a busy street corner and Spike did the same,
puzzling the whole
time over a great many things.
What was Angel doing here? Hunting demons? Continuing his
personal quest
to save humanity? And why hadn't Angel sensed his childe's
presence?
Angelus should have known Spike was near. Or at the very
least that he was
being watched. It was another incongruity, which Spike
logged away for
future consideration.
"Soddin' pouf," Spike muttered, annoyed at having to stand
still, unable to
twitch, pace, or smoke. The blonde hated waiting the way
Angelus loved
lurking. Never had two beings been so dissimilar.
Fortunately for the blonde, the wait wasn't too long. Angel
located what
he was looking for and moved out of the shadows toward
an Asian whore in her
late teens. Spike's eyes narrowed and he moved forward,
suspicion and
confusion at war on his face.
Suddenly, inexplicably, Angel leapt toward the whore with
a jocular little
cry, puffing out his chest and positioning his hands on
his hips like a big
floppy fag. Spike's jaw hit the ground. What the fuck?!
The girl eyed Angelus, trying to decide whether the vampire
was a harmless
loon or a dangerous wacko. As with many others before
her, she fell for
Angel's deceptively pretty face and allowed herself to
be drawn in closer.
Spike snorted, nearly shifting to game face. "Stupid cow.
They never
learn." He shifted, high on anticipation, nearly drooling
for a vicarious
kill he could no longer make himself because of the chip.
Unable to stop,
Spike lit up a cigarette. He had to have something to
do with his hands.
"Hello," Angel boomed.
"How can I help you, John?" the tart asked in broken English.
Angel
visibly winced and his chest deflated. Spike scrutinized
his sire's body
language, trying to figure out what was up. Was Angelus
going to kill the
bint or what? The conflicting signals the blonde was receiving
were
confusing the hell out of him.
Spike's eyes damn near buggered out of his skull as Angelus
stammered and
Angelus sputtered. Angelus, Scourge of Europe, stuck out
his butt like a
rent boy asking for the old heave-ho up the ass, pointing
and gesticulating
toward his tight rear as he asked, "Err, how much for
spanking?"
Spike's involuntary hoot was lost in the whore's reply,
"We fuck - hundred
dollars. Blow Joe - fifty." She sauntered up to Angel
and gave him the
once over. "For you, ninety," she said, running her hand
over Angel's
chest.
Angel yanked away as if the whore had cooties. "No-no-no,"
he insisted,
frantically waving his hands about. "Um...spanking...beat
butt?" He
pointed at his ass again.
In spite of his resolve to remain hidden, Spike exploded.
"You soddin'
POUF!" he exclaimed, unable to contain his tongue any
longer.
Angel and the whore froze. Spike doubled over in a fit
of hysterical,
overwhelming laughter. He had never seen anything funnier
in all his years.
"Well color me pink," he gasped, "An' paint me a' monkey's
arse."
Angel spun, eyes turning to pancakes as he spotted the
source of the
laughter. "Spike!" he squeaked.
William the Bloody wheezed and held his sides, laughing
so hard it hurt.
"Surprised to see me, ducks?" he asked, barely keeping
hold of his cigarette
butt with his supple lips. Inconspicuously, Spike raised
one finger to
under his eye and dragged away tears.
"Yeah!" Angel exclaimed. "You're supposed to be in Sunnydale!"
Meanwhile,
the prostitute continued to look from Spike to Angel,
clearly baffled.
"Well, I'm not," Spike retorted, starting to get a handle
on his mirth.
Things weren't going down like he'd envisioned at all.
He hadn't planned on
revealing his presence to Angelus until he whacked the
big ox with a tire
iron or baseball bat, preferably over the back of the
head.
"Who's he?" the whore demanded.
"Spike," Angel squeaked again, as if it were obvious and
self-explanatory.
Spike's sire wore a fearful, humiliated expression that
the blonde had never
witnessed the like of before on Angel's face. It was beautiful.
"The one and only," he confirmed. Spike grabbed control
and his laughter
stopped. He stepped out of the shadows, away from the
building, and flung
away his cigarette, looking Angel over. "Well, well, if
me old sire isn't a
flogged fag! Sod a dog!" Spike exhaled a stream of smoke
directly into
Angel's face. "An' here I thought Willow was just ripping
the piss outta
me."
Angel's jaw dropped. Thrilled, so full of energy that his
cock was
buzzin', Spike grinned and chuckled, unable to believe
his good luck.
Catching Angel in a compromising situation was better
than anything he could
have hoped for. The Slayer would shit bricks when she
heard.
"What are you doing here?" Angel asked weakly. Then the
dark haired
vampire performed a double take. "W-w-willow what?!" he
squawked.
"Willow?! What did heeee-shhheee say?!"
Spike performed a little victory dance right there on the
sidewalk, wishing
that he had brought his music to thrash too. Too good!
It was the best
victory the blonde had gotten since he killed Slayer #2
and he intended to
savor every nuance of the triumph.
Spike walked right up to Angel and got in his face, poking
the bigger man
in the chest with his finger. "Willow told me all about
you and your
spanking fetish, you soddin' trotter. Gotta admit, didn't
believe her at
first." He waggled his eyebrows. "Thought the little minx
was yankin' my
chain!"
"What?" Angel mouthed like an imbecile. He was stunned.
Spike snorted,
sputtered, and sniggered. He *so* had the upper hand!
"Willow 'fessed up to your little secret, my paddled petunia,"
he explained
with exaggerated ridicule. "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 POUF. Now Willow..."
Spike trailed off, momentarily taken aback as he looked
at things from a
new angle. He performed a mental double take. Oi! What
the fuck?! Willow
hadn't been giving him a hard time! She and Angel really
were... Spike's
girl and Spike's sire were...
The blonde saw red just as Angelus burst out, "What about
Willow?!"
Angel's outrage deepened his voice from an indeterminate
squeak to a boom.
Spike had to swallow his wounded pride for the sake of
saving face. He'd
deal with Willow later. "That's one filly wearin' the
show halter an'
kickin' up her heels outta the ring," he informed his
sire casually. "Let's
just say that until a few days ago, that the little vestal
vixen sure had me
fooled."
Spike emphasized the taunt with the most lewd expression
he could muster,
implying that anything and everything went once Willow
lifted her skirt.
Inside he fumed, furious and humiliated that the little
redhead had put one
over on him. She had tricked him into believing she was
kidding! The
bitch!
"You and Willow!" Angel sputtered, buying into Spike's
deception
completely. There wasn't the slightest hint of skepticism
in his eyes, and
it should have been another hint to the blonde that something
was well and
truly WRONG. Should have, but wasn't. More fool him.
Spike kept going full steam ahead, perpetuating his ruse.
"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,
and crowing with
delight.
Aghast, Angel just stood there. Then it happened.
Angel changed. He transformed before Spike's very eyes
from soulful pouf
to remorseless demon. It was like watching a scorpion
crawl out of a
butterfly cocoon. Spike shivered. Oh. Fuck.
Angelus snickered. From the first laugh, Spike fell silent,
shocked. He
recognized the laugh. His sire: Angelus. The brazen bastard
was free.
"You're really a piece of work, Spike." Angel raised his
hands, flapping
his arms with the enthusiasm of a child pretending to
fly. "Flappin' an' a
flouncin' like a big ol' peacock... You think I give a
fuck if you're
shaggin' that witch?"
Spike froze. Fuck. Angelus. Angel had lost his soul. Again.
Suddenly,
everything and nothing made sense. "Shut your gob!" the
blonde
snapped
automatically. He had nothing coherent to say. Oh. Fuck.
"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 had no ready answer. He stood there, stunned, and
stared. Fuck.
Angelus.
The mouthy bastard kept right on going, "I hear that you've
been fixed."
Angelus stepped right up to Spike, getting into his face
and nailed Spike's
temple with a hard jab. "Little chip in your head - modifying
your
behavior."
Spike hissed, flinching away from that insulting finger.
"Sod off," he
growled. "I can still kick your arse." And he could, he
could, he could.
He could fight demons.
Fuck. Angelus.
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 limbs about
with flowing freedom.
And Spike damned his lack of self-control, quick wit, easy
answers, and
preparation. He wasn't ready and he was caught off-guard.
He. Stood.
There. And. Watched.
Watched the dancing demon perform a magnificent version
of the butt-wiggle
mamba with an equally magnificent behind. Angelus was
free and freedom,
without pretences, inhibitions, or sanity. He was darkness
and beauty and
terrifying to behold. He was Spike's sire and the blonde
despised and
adored Angelus with every fiber of his being.
Spike didn't know what to do.
"Know what?" Angelus crowed, loud enough to be heard up
and down the
street. "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 ass.
I am at the top of
your Shag List, aren't I, Spike?"
Angelus smirked.
Spike exploded.