Ronin: Under The Sun

Part One
 

"I wanna see her," Angel repeated for the third time.

"No...no you really don't, mate. It's not necessary." The blond flicked his cigarette toward the floor. Spike was standing ground here, despite the fact that he couldn't remember winning an argument with the older man in the last two centuries or so. Not counting the time he'd resorted to physical torture by a child molester. Which actually, Angel had eventually ended up....

"Necessary?? *Necessary*?" The tone was unmistakable.

Spike threw his hands up in disgust. "All right," he gritted as he backed off. No bleedin way because he thought this was gonna be a good idea. Only because he knew there was no way other way to get out of this fucking nightmare without shedding his blood over it too. "But I'm goin with you." He tossed his smoke to the floor.

Angel looked surprised momentarily, then simply shrugged, and stepped through the door of the morgue which held his lover inside.

Spike knew he still thought of her as his lover. Even after over a year in L.A., even after knowing she and Riley had been engaged to be married, even after he gave up mortality and immortality to stay away from her, he'd never really let her go. What's 13 months in the life of someone who's going to live forever anyway? Spike knew too that Angel seeing her this way was going to get way beyond ugly.

He mentally went through his I'm-pissed-off-and-I-hate-list. Kept him sane during moments like these. Army Ranger Boy. For putting the cursed thing in his head. For manufacturing the Demon that had finally offed the Slayer. The Slayer. For getting herself killed. The friggin Scooby Gang. For letting Buffy get herself killed, and for arranging the goddam funeral so that the only chance his Sire had of saying goodbye was going to be now. What, they were going to go to the Church? Or to the funeral at 10:00 AM?

He gritted his teeth as he recalled the red-haired witch stammering, "Ooh...oh...we didn't...we didn't think of that..." No, why should they think of Angel? Which is pretty much exactly what he spat at them. "Why the hell should this be any different than the whole last year? He's neatly out of your life, no more reminders to make you all un-cozy. Why should the fact that...oh fuck it. Fuck all of you. Soddin' arseholes."

Giles and Xander remained silent, but Willow had winced. It was all true. Even if it wasn't Angel's fault that he shared a face with a soulless murderer, he was nothing but bad memories for them all. And seeing Buffy finally happy... and relaxed with Riley...The slamming of the door behind Spike made Willow jump. Then she burst into tears for the hundredth time that day.

**************************************************************

Angel just stood there in front of the coffin. He was perfecting his statue boy routine, just as he had since Spike came to L.A. to tell him the news, to pick him up, and to bring him home. He hadn't made a sound when Spike told him of her death. Personally, Spike found that a little creepy, and it wasn't like he creeped out that easily, bein the big bad n' all. It just didn't bode well.

"Angel, you don't ...don't have to do this. You don't know...don't know how she..."

The dark haired vampire looked annoyed at him, and frowned. Spike wasn't usually so inarticulate. He wasn't a poet, but he got to the point. "What are you trying to tell me, boy?"

Spike cringed inwardly, then cursed himself for doing so. So, there was the grief. Under the demon. Couldn't much blame the man, but it pissed him off to be his Sire's whipping boy. But hell, wasn't he the one who said there was nothing different here? He met Angel's eyes. "What I'm trying to tell you is that she did not die a pretty death. And if you're about to play the old D/s games with me, *Daddy,* you can bloody well do this shit by yourself."

An intake of breath. [Bingo]

"I'm sorry, Will. I was out of line. Please..stay... ...don't....." His voice broke then, and Spike took two steps forward, holding up his hand.

"Don't sweat it, mate. Let's just do this and get it over with."

The two men reached for the lid. It was going to be a closed coffin, and the reasons why were about to become painfully obvious. Spike had heard every gory detail, but he wasn't prepared for seeing it up close and personal with Angel....Angel who had sunk to his knees on the floor...clutching the cross which had been placed in Buffy's grip, which was now burning a hole in his smoking hand.

He looked down at his Sire, then back at Buffy, laying in the wooden box. Her neck was circled with a single row of heavy dark blue stitches, her eyelids sunken. It had taken her eyes. Her head wore a crown of dark brown hair, which could not have been her own. There were stitches, too, on her shoulder blades, and her thighs...the funeral blokes had done a good enough job, but it was supposed to be closed casket and it was far from perfect.

But Spike couldn't stop looking at her chest, where the cross had been. The light summer's dress they had put her in did nothing to hide the gaping cavity that had obviously been there. So they had folded her arms, and placed a large crucifix over her breasts. Spike couldn't help thinking that with her preternatural strength, it was likely that Buffy had lived through all the torture the thing had inflicted on her, and probably only died when It ripped out her heart.

The scent of burning flesh tore Spike out of his reverie. "Angel, Jesus...," he muttered softly, and grabbed the cross from his hand. He tossed it to the ground. "Bloody lot of good it did her."

Angel stood up, his eyes leveled on his Childe's. "Bloody lot of good it does anyone. There's nothing new under the sun, Will. Nothing." He pushed past the black clad vampire, and left the room, too fast for a man to follow.

Spike sighed and walked back to the coffin. Gingerly, he picked up to the cross and tossed it back on top of Buffy's body. "Stupid goddam bitch. How could you do this to yourself? What the hell am I gonna do with him now?" He lifted the impossibly heavy lid, and slammed it shut.
 
 
 
 

Part Two
 
 
 
 

It didn't take him long to find Angel. His scent was too easy to track, so familiar and oddly comforting. And they had spent too long of an eternity together already for Spike not to know his patterns, his haunts. He was expecting the blood tears, the slow paced aimless wandering, the blank eyes staring. Hell, he had steeled himself for it. He was going to allow his Sire this night of ...what did those idiot children call it?...ah yes, uberangst. Figured he deserved that much. One night at least, and he supposed he could lower himself to play the role of comforter...now that...that would be a switch...Yup, he was expecting...

He wasn't expecting this.

He recognized the way the older vampire carried himself, the way his shoulders bent forward slightly as he walked, the way his boots never made a sound on the pavement beneath him. His arms hung loosely at his sides, the long gray duster brushing the backs of his calves as he dodged shadows. Spike knew if he could see his Sire's face, his eyes would hold a glimmer of gold light, and his expression would be one of concentration, of a being supremely focused on a single task. Angel was....hunting.

Spike watched as he crooked one knee and rested his foot flat on the brick wall behind him. Angel's fists were clenched in his pockets now, his muscles tensed, waiting. The children walking the alley didn't notice him, but his head turned, those half hooded eyes caressing them, as he let the teens pass, unmolested.

Spike couldn't suppress a grin. Angelus had always had very specific tastes, in lovers and in food. Those two were... common. That wouldn't do. Not at all.

Moments passed in silence as Spike stared at his Maker, drawn irresistibly by the tide of vicious eroticism and incomprehensible sorrow emanating from him. Angel hadn't killed in years, and if he was about to pick up where he'd left off now, then damned if Spike wasn't going to be around to watch. Voyeurism had long been a part of their ancient relationship. In the century they spent together as Sire and Childe, brothers, ..lovers...he had seen Angelus fight, hunt, fuck, kill. Spike would be hard pressed to determine which view he'd found the most pleasurable.

He watched Angel shrink further into the shadows as a young couple approached. The boy was tall, slender, with androgynous features and waist length sugar colored hair. Spike could make out a faint whisper of a beard on the youth's chin, and he gazed down at his companion with exuberance, and gray eyes. The girl was equally enticing, red hair framing a heart shaped face, and a full, round mouth. Spike could hear their blood, feel the gentle thudding of their veins, and his fangs began the all familiar tingling. He stared, unmoving, as Angel leaned forward slightly and the girl gave a small start.

Again, a familiar shiver, as the ache in his gums began to spread to his groin. He shifted uncomfortably, and adjusted his pants as Angel shrank back into shadow. He wasn't retreating. Oh no, not Angelus, not his Lord and Master. He was toying with them, drawing out the cruel inevitable moment. Playing with his food. Oh, this was agony. Ecstasy.

The couple stopped, looked behind them, around...the girl tugged on her companion's coat sleeve, whispered something Spike couldn't quite catch over the rush of blood pounding in his ears. "Please, baby," he thought he heard...Oh yes, please, baby... pleeeeease... Christ.

He shifted onto one foot and stifled a groan. Then they were walking again. And Angel was right behind them, no sound, no scent, no shadow. Just menace. His left arm reached out, inches from the young girl's shoulder. A soft glow emanated from his features, from his...core. Spike watched, completely spellbound now, as helpless as the children to stop this unfolding tableau.

Until **it** started. The godforsaken pain in his head; the one that prevented him from succumbing to his demon even though he ached to, the one that had made him an outcast among outcasts. The goddamn, fucking, searing, burning pain that radiated from the chip in his undead brain, or wherever the hell it was that Riley's GI Joe crew had stuck it when they'd turned him into a lab rat special. Oh yea, it was that pain. No matter how often he felt it, no matter how many times he swore he could steel himself against it, he never could.

But...this didn't make sense. He wasn't the one hunting. Sure, he was getting a vicarious hard on watching, but hey, that wasn't illegal was it? "Arrghh.., " he groaned and gripped his forehead as the white light scorched his eyeballs. Shit. Okay. Apparently it was. Angelus had his hand on the woman now and she was turning to face him, her mouth open to scream -

"Angel!" he shouted, as he went to one knee from the pain. "Angel!"

Angelus started, sniffed the air, and looked through the darkness to rest his gaze on Spike. His voice was even, quiet, certain. "William, My Childe. There's enough to share here. Come...", he beckoned. The tone of his voice, the carefully chosen words, it had been a century...and suddenly it was like it had been yesterday. The evenly chiseled features of Angel's human mask slowly shifted, became his natural face, and the girl finally screamed.

How many times in the past millennium had Spike witnessed this scene? Been a gleeful participant? And how many times in the last century, since Angel had recovered his soul, did Spike pray to any and all the demon gods for its reprisal?

Now it was before him. His best friend, his hunting partner, his Father and lover, returned to him, and it was ...it was going to kill him. This pain was going to kill him. And Angel wasn't stopping. He held the girl in one arm, her head cradled against his silent heart, and the squirming boy by the shirt collar, arms flailing in a futile attempt to ward off death.

Spike's voice was barely a whisper, but he knew Angel would hear it in the stillness of the alley, above the pleading of the mortals which was slowly driving him out of his bloody mind. "Please," he panted, "please."

Angelus looked momentarily confused, but undeterred, his face inches from the girl's upturned neck. Spike could hear her soft whimpering, could taste her heartbeat in his mouth, and the heady foreplay was excruciating. In a moment, he was sure he would lose consciousness.

"Liam," he managed to choke out, "Liam, stop."

Angel froze and dropped his precious bundles to the concrete. They lay there, staring up at him, trapped in the shimmer of his eyes, the invisible web of the moment, until Spike, finally free of the hideous throbbing, managed a shout. "Run you stupid fucking twits! Run..NOW!"

And they did. And Angel looked down to the empty space where they had been, then in fury to the intruder who had chased away his first living meal in ages. The smaller, blond vampire who was cautiously creeping closer, wearing a strange look...a pain and pleasure cocktail. The one who had called him by a name he hadn't heard in over 200 years. It wasn't a name he particularly missed hearing either.
 
 
 
 

Part Three
 
 
 
 

Angel covered the distance between him and his Childe in one quick motion. His devil was awakened, aroused, and would not be so easily put to rest. He looked at the younger vampire, whose skin cast a soft glow in the ugly lights of the alley. He was holding the side of his head in one hand; he looked to be recovering from some sort of wound...but Angel's recollections were clouded by blood lust. The boy was near and he was weakened. He would be easy to overtake.. It had been sooo long, and Angel wanted... he needed... Angel was *hungry.*

Spike's back was against the brick wall before he could formulate a thought. His hands were above his head, wrists locked together in a steely grip, and his hair was being tugged, pulling his head back to expose the vulnerable artery in his neck. Spike gasped reflexively, bringing a low moan from the man holding him, as fangs sunk painfully into his neck. He squirmed in Angelus' grip, struggling to get closer, struggling to get farther away, his hips rhythmically mimicking the motions of sex. His Sire's cock was pressed against his stomach, and he writhed, feeling it spring to life as his vein spurted the coveted blood down Angel's throat.

It was like getting sucked into a whirlwind, his thoughts colliding together like so many ping pong balls. Vaguely, he was aware that Angel had released his arms, and was stroking the back of his head in an almost gentle manner. But it was as if he was detached from any part of his body that was not his neck, or his cock. Those body parts which were now connected by the magick of the blood, and which now had him quaking, biting his own tongue with razor sharp fangs, and grinding his hips against Angel's in a vain attempt to heighten this connection.

The blood play allowed Angel the advantage of access to Spike's thoughts and he was relishing this long missed walk through the younger man's psyche. He saw brief sketches, jumbles of images, which he knew would become clear only as more blood was exchanged. [Angel as seen from atop a tall building in LA...Spike surreptitiously watching him....Spike preventing Dru from saving Angelus when Giles' wrath led him to murderous intent...Spike in a wheelchair, first celebrating, then cursing his Sire's return to the fold...decades...dancing...hunting...decades...] Angel was traveling backward through time with his Childe, *in* his Childe, and he was dizzy and strengthened and never wanted this to...

[And so it came to pass that the God of Abraham commanded him to sacrifice his only begotten son...]

**What**....??

Spike was pressing his hardened cock into Angel, his hands buried in the dark hair, he strained to throw his head back farther, farther...

[Abraham brought his son up the mountain, and when Isaac asked, "But where is the animal to sacrifice, Father?" Abraham answered, "My son, it is you..."]

**the**....??

[And Isaac willingly lay himself on the altar of the Lord...]

**hell**?? 

[Gods yes, I can live with that.] Spike was gasping now, and holding Angel's body tight against his chest, one hand grasping at Angel's backside, pressing him closer..closer...**Shit**....

Angel tore his fangs away from the soft neck, and instead slammed his mouth against Spike's own. Tongues and fangs warring for quarter, Angel's lip was sliced open in the battle. Whisper of echoes in Spike's head...not his own.... [Redemption] Spike lapped eagerly at the tiny amount of blood, it was not a usual occurrence to drink from one's Sire after being turned. [Too late] He sucked on the gash marring Angel's top lip, drawing the sweet precious drops into his mouth. [Never] The phrases buzzed about inside Spike's head, misquotes that would not be ignored. [Buffy...so sorry...]

FUCK! Spike broke the kiss with no warning and spun around, taking Angel with him. Vehemently, he grabbed Angel by the collar, and slammed him into the brick wall. Angel looked stunned. "Christ, I am so bloody fucking tired of all this misplaced angst!" Spike growled between clenched teeth, spitting the now offending blood on the ground. "Ohh, I'm sooo eeevil, I've kiiilllled people..*Of course* you've killed people, you're a bloody demon you immortal idiot!"

Angel wiped the blood on his mouth with the back of one hand, and tried to argue, but Spike was far from finished. "You can run from that and do your Batman routine until the end of time, mate, and it's not gonna change a damn thing. Having a soul doesn't change a damn thing. It just makes you feel like shit about it. But you're the one who *wallows* in that shit, and I for one and SICK of it! You're not mourning *her* here, you're mourning the loss of your own humanity!"

Angel grabbed the younger vampire's wrists and pulled free, shoving him backward in the process. "How dare you!!" he barked. "You have no idea what I'm feeling! You have no idea what its like to love someone...to love them like I love her..and to lose her like that!" His voice was thick with emotion, but the rage was most evident.

Spike snorted, and took a step closer, "Naw, you're right, ol' Spike never loved or lost nothin', eh?" Any deeper meaning was lost on Angel, who was now well into his own tirade.

"You don't know...you don't know what I've gone through...to make it up to her...to them...wasn't 500 years in hell enough? Wasn't giving her up enough? Wasn't leaving here and everything...everyone I've ever let myself get close to enough? No! Doyle has to die, I have to be reminded over and over again what I could have had but never will, and now Buffy has to die too?? What the fuck is the point? What's the point of any of it, man, of any of THIS??" He grabbed at his coat, pounded on his own chest, and Spike understood the real question.

"How the hell should I know what the point is, Angelus? How the hell should I know why you're here, or why we are what we are? Only thing I can see for sure is that you're a bloody egotist, a selfish goddam -"

He was cut off by the back of Angel's hand coming in hard contact with his left cheek. His fangs left a wound inside his mouth, and the blood only further fueled Spike's demon as his face completed its metamorphosis. "Oh yea, that's it, ....there's my ever lovin Sire. Disagree with him and get fucking backhanded. Can't even punch ya like a man."

He grabbed Angel by the collar of his shirt, and pulled him close. He could smell his ire, feel his skin shiver beneath him, but he only watched, unfazed as Angel attempted to stare him down. "No, Angelus. Not this time. Now *you're* going to listen to me for once in your lousy unlife." Spike's previous arousal had been completely replaced by a calm fury.

He plopped his Sire unceremoniously on the ground before him, and was secretly amazed that he remained there, despite his raised brow, prominent fangs and feral stare. "You are not the center of the universe, soul-boy. Your going to hell changed nothing because your life doesn't change the world. Get it? You had nothing to do with Darla choosing you, nothing to do with the demon you became once it was done. PEOPLE make choices, mate. Doyle chose his death. Buffy chose her path. She chose to love you, to send you to hell when you turned, and to let you leave again for good when you came back. She chose to fight whatever blasted Demon got her in the end. You didn't kill her anymore than you killed anyone else you've ever loved who died. PEOPLE DIE Angel. We live forever, they die. That's the way it is. **Nothing new under the sun.**"

Finished, he took a breath, stared down at Angel.

"It can't be like that, Spike. It can't. There has to be a reason...there has to be some...some meaning..or else, why bother at all?" he protested, staring up at his compatriot with eyes that held too much humanity, too much confusion and pain to be mistaken for demonic.

Spike sighed and dropped down next to his Sire, lighting a cigarette as he did so. "Angelus," he started, taking a deep drag, "I don't claim to know the reasons. That's the difference between you and me, mate. I don't even wanna know em. And you've always looked down on me for it. But I've been happy, my dear, and you have been a miserable wretch in every bleedin incarnation. "

Angel watched the smaller man as his face slipped back into human mask. Spike's slim fingers held the cigarette in a firm grip, his elbow rested gently atop his knee. He looked casual, comfortable, even here, in this alley, in the middle of the night, in Sunnyhell.

He was right, that was the difference. William...Spike...both had always been comfortable in their own skin, while Angel never could seem to find that peace, no matter what or who he was. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes. But Spike couldn't know what it was like...to be a man out of place...out of body...not a demon but not a human...unable to hunt....unable to be satisfied...unable to....uhmmmmmmm....

His eyes flew open and he cast a crooked glance at his Childe. He grinned. Spike was just finishing his cigarette, but turned to match his gaze. Angel was grinning.

"What the fuck, Angelus, you lose your bloody mind?"

"Actually, maybe...I was just thinking what a pair we make. You and I. Impotent immortals." His grin became wider at the incredulous look on his friend's face.

"Impotent?!" he shouted, "Impotent?! Speak for your soddin self, you poof!"

Angel laughed out loud, surprising himself at the sound. He stood up. Although his face was now that of a man, his chilled blood was still pounding a steady beat inside his veins. He extended a hand down to his Childe, who responded by staring at it uncertainly. "What's the matter, Will? Don't you trust me?"

He grinned again, a look Spike well remembered, one lip curled upward, one eyebrow cocked, head tilted ever so slightly. No Spike didn't trust him. And, oh shit, this game always made his heart skip a beat. Pretty tricky considering his heart didn't beat. Or so he'd been assured.

Hesitantly he stretched out his hand, and Angel took it in his own, pulling the smaller vampire to his feet. They were standing toe to toe, Spike's eyes, much to his dismay, at his Sire's chest. He'd forgotten how small Angel could make him feel. How much he hated it.

He realized that Angel still hadn't let go his hand. "No, Angelus," he whispered finally. "No, I don't trust you. Not as far as I can throw you."

Angel smiled down at him, rubbing his thumb over the blond man's index finger. "Well, I guess that's pretty smart. Not that you could throw me far...." He let the dare linger.

"Angel," Spike began, his cockney accent thickening perceptibly. "That soul of yours has one real nice bonus for me. I could kick your sorry fucking ass."

"Tell you what," Angel's voice was honeyed, a heady mix of challenge and sarcasm, lust and surety. "C'mon back to my hotel room. We'll see if you can take me."
 
 
 
 

Part Four
 
 
 
 

The two vampires stood facing one another. The larger one's hands gripped the other's shoulders, and he half smiled, down into those fathomless blue eyes. Then one thumb gently traced along his jawbone, until the blond turned his head, to capture its calloused tip in his mouth. The taller man stifled a groan.

"We don't have to do this if you don't want to," Angel said softly.

The other vampire grinned. "Ohhhh, no, pet. I've been waiting for this for 'bout a century now.."

With that, he stuck out his left leg and neatly swept both of Angel's feet out from beneath him. All six foot three of him landed in a heap on his ass, and Spike fell on him, effortlessly pinning his shoulders to the floor.

"Tada!" he shouted, triumphantly. "The winner and still the champion! William the Bloody! The crowd goes wild...." He made mock cheering noises into his cupped fist.

"Beginner's luck!" Angel asserted. Quickly adding, "Best two out of three," he brought his knees into Spike's chest and tossed him up into the air. The blond flew about three feet and landed with a THUD on top of a dresser. He was looking annoyed as Angel got to his feet.

The dark-haired man waved his hands in a come hither gesture, "Come on, little one, what's wrong? You had enough already?"

He laughed when Spike growled, but was unprepared for the force with which his Childe plowed into him, head first into his chest. They slammed back into the wall, Angel's spine connecting painfully with the solid structure. "Damn, boy, you always did have a hard head," he muttered.

Spike's fist met his jaw. "That's for givin me that godforsaken headache before!"

Angel grunted as his head snapped back. He blinked down at Spike, then punched him in the belly, not hard enough to put him through the next room, but enough so the younger man doubled over in pain. "That's for following me!" he countered.

Spike's mouth was set in a grim line. "This is for destroying that damned Gem of mine!" This time his clenched right hand, and all four ornate rings found Angel's cheekbone.

Angel could taste the coppery blood, and he lifted a hand to test the four welts and angry cuts beneath his left eye. He grabbed Spike by the throat, "It wasn't *your* Gem, you sorry son of a bitch! And excuse me, but didn't I get *physically tortured* enough over that incident??"

Now he had his Childe pinned over a desk and he banged his head into it repeatedly for emphasis. Still, Spike grinned up at him, defiantly. "Yea, well, can I help it if that bloke Marcus loved his job?"

Angel snorted. "His *job*? Have you ever had six hot pokers stuck through your body?!"

Spike blinked and attempted a look of petulant confusion, which failed miserably. "Oh, yes, let me see now. Hungary. 1822."

It was Angel's turn to look confused. "What? I don't remember..?"

Spike interrupted him, "Of course you don't *remember,* mate, you left me to face six angry sorcerers while you ran off after some skirt! I was pullin metal splinters out of me ass for weeks!"

The blond used the moment to shift slightly, just out of Angel's grip and grabbed television remote lying next to him on the desk. He thought it made quite a pleasing sound as it connected with the top of his Sire's head.

Angel clutched his scalp, "Fuck, boy," he grimaced. "You are gonna pay dearly for that..."

Spike's smirk did not for an instant waver. Soul-boy so rarely cursed. He must be reallllly pissed. Oh my, this was getting fun. He crept slowly up to Angel and poked him in the chest, purposely adding fuel to the already smoldering fire. "Pay for what, **Sire**?"

The warning growl from Angelus came too late to let Spike know he had pushed their game too far. The hand that had been on the larger man's chest was now caught in a painful grip, as Spike was spun around quickly and pulled up against the hard wall of Angel's body. Angel's left arm was around his neck, the right around his waist, and any movement was difficult and painful.

Spike didn't need to breathe, his blood didn't need to circulate, but if there was one thing he hated, and Angelus knew it, it was to be held still. To be unable to move was pure torture for the hyperactive vampire, and Angel used this unusual phobia to his advantage, wrapping his right leg around the front of both of Spike's calves to prevent even the smallest wiggle. Spike was pressed tight against the larger man's waist, and he could feel Angel's belt buckle digging into his ass.

He shifted, so did the hard...no, it wasn't his belt buckle. "This," Angel whispered in Spike's ear, his voice lush and wet, reveling in the way the smaller vampire shivered imperceptibly. "This is for Prussia, 1856."

Even thus restrained, Spike practically lit up with the memory of stealing their carriage and leaving Angel with a crazed Drusilla outside a monastery just before sunrise. The thought of the two of them having to hide in there for 12 hours was enough to bring Spike a happy moment, lo these 150 years later.

The recollection helped him to push past the conflicting emotions of his current situation, and Spike was able to bring his head up just enough to slam Angel's chin with it. As Angel's head went back, his grip on Spike loosened enough for the blond to twist away. He leaped backward with feline grace, and landed effortlessly on the bed, facing his Sire.

Angel looked up at him with a bemused expression. Spike spun, foot first, and with a roundhouse kick, aimed for the side of his Sire's head. But instead of connecting with it, Angel dodged the move, and leapt on the bed himself. For a time, the two circled one another, looking much like a pair of pissed off, albeit momentarily ridiculous large animals.

SMACK! A hand shot out, met its intended target. "That's for Russia, 1797!" THUD! A fist met now sweating preternatural flesh. "That's for China, 1870!" It took over an hour, but this time of trading evenly matched barbs and fists was finally making both vampires weary. Spike, however, was not about to admit even the defeat of a draw. Angel was pondering a way to end it without making his Childe lose any face in the process.

"This is for forgetting about me." The soft voice was belied by the furious punch to Angel's upper chest.

[Good timing, Spike,] Angel thought. [That comment coulda knocked me over all on its own...] He plopped back onto the soft pillows below him. Spike hovered over him, suspicious.

"I didn't hit you hard enough to knock you over."

Angel's face was impassive, but his voice was ...what was that tone? "It wasn't what you did, Childe. It was what you said."

Spike cursed his weak knees at hearing Angel use that term for him . He sunk down next to him on the plush comforter. "Well." he said, his lower lip pushed out unconsciously. "You did."

Angel stared at that lower lip and resisted the urge to pull it into his own mouth. "No, I did not. Ever." He protested. Spike made a noise of disbelief, even as Angel's hand reached for him, and cupped the back of his neck in a sure and steady grip.

"Never," Angel repeated.

Spike couldn't meet his Sire's unwavering eyes. "Oh bloody hell. You forgot about me every time some floozy came along. Didn't matter if it was Dru or the Slayer. Souled or Soul-less, I was always second with you, Angelus."

Angel leaned in closer, noticing with a touch of confusion how Spike seemed...smaller suddenly. Smaller and much younger. As his voice continued all rage was gone from it. It was just the truth as he knew it. Simple. Spike.

"I could never compete with them."

Angel tilted his head to the side, his eyes squinted shut, and he looked so sad for a moment, that Spike regretted his words. For a moment. Then Angel pulled him closer; Spike could feel his Sire's breath, hot on his face, and smell the blood he himself had drawn.

"William," Angel began, as his fingers slowly rubbed in small circles at the nape of the blond hair, "if you want to talk about a competition, it's very simple, really. You are my First Borne. No one could ever compete with *you.*"
 
 
 
 

Part Five
 
 
 
 

Angel was sitting so close to Spike now that the younger vampire could feel himself being pulled toward his energy. It was as if an invisible string was tugging him by his...well, he didn't have a beating heart, and it certainly wasn't his thinking head.

He sighed, and Angel mistook it for a sigh of disbelief. The fingers behind Spike's head now gently massaged the spot where his neck met the base of his skull. Spike closed his eyes, and leaned back into the gentle caress.

Angel looked down at the smaller man in his grip, the dark lashes still against pale cheeks, the lips half parted, the head tilted to one side in an unconscious gesture of trust, of submission. He stared at the blue vein running up the side of his Childe's neck. Vampire's blood. His Childe's blood.

Angel lowered his head to Spike's neck, inhaling the scent of him. Smoke, scotch, leather..... blood. He shook, imperceptibly, as he ran first the tip of his nose, then his tongue over the exposed neck before him. [ **dangerous game**].

He opened his mouth, very lightly dragging his teeth across the pale and unmoving flesh. His mouth watered. Very soon this was going to reach the point of no return. His fingers traced the trail left by his kiss, and Spike shivered uncontrollably. He thought he heard the whisper, but he never saw Spike's lips move, before Angel's face shifted and his teeth were in the blonde's neck. [**Yesss...do it...**]

Angel drank. And drank. This time, there was no pretense of being insane with mourning , or even of trying to fight his demon back. This time Angel allowed himself to be carried by his nature, by his hunger, by his lust for blood and dominion. He drank until Spike moaned, wrapped his arms around Angel's neck, and stiffened beneath him. He drank until he realized that this alone was not going to satiate the hunger he had awakened with his trek into the alley. Not by a long shot.

He pulled free of his prize, and gasped, steadying himself by placing one hand on the soft mattress. Spike was clamoring for the unneeded air as well and rubbing his hand along the wound his neck. He looked up at his Sire with blue eyes that reflected a peculiar mixture of the hunter and the hunted. It made Angel's cock twitch just to see it.

There was a bond Angel had shared with Spike. No one else had ever touched, not even Buffy. It had nothing to do with his love for her, it was just a simple impossibility. For all her strength and prowess, Buffy was still a human. And she had a righteous and well founded hatred of his demon. So did he.

But Spike, Spike reveled in the demon they hosted, in the savage pleasure of the flesh only kindred could share. There was nothing Angel could do that would horrify Spike, nothing that would make him recoil in fear or disgust. There was nothing he could do that would harm Spike permanently physically, and ...well, that left numerous possibilities.

Angel grasped Spike by the wrists, and pulled him gently to a sitting position. He noted with an almost drunken delight that Spike was still panting. He released Spike's wrists, and began to stroke them idly, running his fingertips over the spots where there should have ben a pulse, but wasn't.

Spike let his hands rest in Angel's lap, palms up, his skin tingling under the other man's controlled touch. He lifted his eyes to meet his Sire's, let his gaze hold all he had been thus far unable to say.

But Angel needed to hear it. Needed to have it whispered from Spike's lips. To have the silence between them broken by the words that once constituted a covenant between him and his long favored demon lover.

Angel was startled by the level of emotion in his own voice as he whispered, "Do you wish to play, Childe?"

Spike smiled and the light crept into his eyes as he did so. "Yes. I wish to play. My Sire." He bowed his head as the words fell from his lips, and once again Angel felt all the stolen blood in his body rushing toward his already over-aroused cock.

Angel leaned back on the bed, resting comfortably with one arm behind his head. "Strip," he said simply. And watched with half hooded eyes as Spike did as he was bidden. A black cotton long sleeve shirt, sleeveless tee, and finally black jeans found their way to the floor. Angel lay motionless as Spike removed his silver rings and the single rope chain around his neck.

When he was at last completely nude, he knelt before the bed, head lowered, palms flat on his thighs, and waited for Angel to speak again. Spike's unquestioning obedience made Angel's demon rattle in his cage. Loudly. He smiled slightly. Angel would let Angelus out to play tonight.....although only on his terms.

"Stand," he ordered shortly. Spike rose to his feet gracefully and stepped closer to the bed. Angel at last let his gaze linger over the full length of his Childe's body. He studied the graceful curves of muscle, the broad expanse of marbled skin covering ropes of veins and sinew. Spike's legs were slightly apart, hands behind his back, affording Angel an unobstructed view of his arousal. He stared unblinking at Spike's ample cock. It continued to pulse to life, its glistening tip now brushing against the blond hairs on his flat stomach.

The intensity of the older vampire's gaze warmed Spike, he felt the flush begin to creep up his thighs and belly, covering his chest and neck. Still, Spike did not move. Only when Angel leaned forward, stretched out his index finger, and raked his nail down the head of his cock, did Spike jump. It was only a small startle really, but he heard the "tsk" of displeasure in his Sire's throat.

Angel climbed off the bed and knelt. He let himself breathe against Spike's thighs, so that the younger vampire's hairs stood at attention beneath his mouth. "This time, my boy, *do not move,*" his whisper was finished against Spike's inner thigh, before he allowed his tongue to stroke the smooth expanse of skin.

He let his mouth explore the delicacy in front of him, stroking one thigh, then the other, hands gripped tightly around the backs of his Childe's knees. When he brought the flat surface of his tongue over both of Spike's balls, he heard a small hisssss from the younger man, but obediently he moved not an inch. As a reward, Angel licked the soft, round sacs, bringing them up, and twirling his tongue over the tender skin.

He followed the small line which separated them, and continued on, under the bulge, and along the most sensitive part of pink skin which ended between his cheeks. His tongue found the opening and flicked lightly, sending shudders up the man in his tight grip. Angel smiled, and continued his assault, using the tip of his tongue to penetrate and retreat at Spike's quivering entrance.

Satisfied that his lover was completely acquiescent, he once again shifted his attentions to Spike's erection. He licked a path up from the base of his balls to the tip of his quivering cock, chuckling lightly as he heard the sharp intake of unrequired breath. Then, paying careful attention to every inch of skin except that of his aching cock, Angel continued his insidious assault until Spike's thighs and balls were soaked with his saliva and his toes curled into the carpet. He smiled in satisfaction at the look of craving on the boy's face, before taking Spike's cock fully and unexpectedly into his mouth.

Spike cried out, and unable to help himself, pushed his hips forward, so that Angel deep throated him. Aware he'd slipped, he then stood silent. Spike dug his heels into the carpet to keep himself steady, as Angel kept his cock buried in his throat, but also did not move.

Angel opened his eyes slightly, and looked up. Spike's teeth were gritted tightly together, and his face was a shimmering mask of half man-half demon. His eyes were tightly shut, awaiting the next move of his Sire.

Angel grasped Spike's wrist, brought it to the base of his cock, and silently bid him to offer himself to his Master. Spike did so without hesitation, grasping his own cock with a shaky fist, and groaning in gratification as Angel slowly, at last, began to move his mouth along Spike's throbbing shaft.

Angel kept his sharpest teeth in check, using only the two in front to scrape along the surface of silky skin as he slid easily back and forth over the imposing length of his Childe. Angel let his tongue swirl over the sensitive head, teased the small slit, and tasted the first drops of pe-cum starting to gather there. Almost as good as blood. Almost.

He grasped Spike's balls in his hand, and gently tugged, all the while bringing his head forward to take the straining cock deeper into this open throat. His nose tickled Spike's stomach each time he pressed forward. Each time he pulled back, he could hear Spike whimper, and it made him chuckle.

The low sound reverberating against Spike's rapidly heating flesh combined with the sight of his Sire sucking him off was building a fever pitch of pleasure inside of him. Angel's movements picked up in pace as he felt the cock in his mouth begin to twitch.

He tugged cruelly on Spike's testicles, the force more than a mortal man could withstand. Then, slowly, he reached around to his Childe's backside and found the opening his tongue had toyed with earlier. His fingertips teased, Spike grunted low in his chest, but was still as he had been ordered. Until Angel's three fingers pressed deeper, past the tight ring of muscle which clenched involuntarily as they invaded.

By the time the invading digits had disappeared up to their second knuckles, Spike's desire to please was nearly completely overpowered by his need to cum. As Angel's fingers in Spike's ass began to mimic the movements of his slick mouth over the blonde's pulsing shaft, it was too late for a warning.

Spike managed to open his mouth; but his face was no longer a blur of features, rather fully in demon visage, and all that came out was a howl. Angel tilted back his head, opening his throat even further, and allowing every drop of Spike's cool semen to rush into him. Saltier than the blood. He didn't remove his mouth or his fingers until Spike's cock stopped the small dance it had been doing on his tongue, and until the wail he was certain would have the hotel neighbors calling the police had died down to a low growl.

As he finally lifted his head and laid it against Spike's left thigh, he felt Spike tremble, as much from the rush of release as from the sinking realization that he hadn't first asked permission for it. Without warning, Angel sank his fangs deep into Spike's thigh, tearing away the flesh to reveal the femoral artery. He gulped at the spurt of blood with the same ravenous hunger he had displayed when he'd swallowed his Childe's cum.

Spike let out a keening cry, then was still as his Sire devoured him. When Angel had had his fill, he released his grip on Spike's ass and thighs and let the trembling vampire fall into his lap. He cradled the shaky form in his arms, and stroked the blond hair until the ragged breaths came to an end.

Spike opened his eyes and look up into the intense golden gaze of his Sire. When he opened his mouth to speak, he found again he could say nothing at all.

Angel's top lip curled every so slightly on one side, and he dipped his head low to drop a gentle kiss on Spike's open mouth. As his tongue darted inside his Childe's mouth, he gasped with pleasure as he felt Spike cut his own cheek with his fangs, and offer the blood to him in repentance. He lapped lazily at the blood, swallowing in small sips, and caressing the blonde's chin with his palm. He leisurely parted their now blood covered lips and whispered, "Forgiven, my beautiful boy."
 

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