Ronin: Under the Sun

Part Six
 

Spike luxuriated in his Sire's caresses, pulling the dark-haired man closer for more hungry kisses, and making a noise in his throat that sounded for all the world like purring. Angel smiled against the younger man's neck, nuzzling gently. He'd forgotten about the purring. He helped the smaller man to his feet, and they climbed into the king sized bed.

It was then that Spike realized Angel was somehow also naked. Amazing considering he couldn't remember a moment when his Sire's hands weren't on him. Regaining his composure along with his sarcastic sense of humor, he quipped, "Ever the multi-tasker, eh lover?"

Angel nodded, then tossed back the covers, laying sprawled out on the bed like a big sleepy cat. "Now lets see how many things you can do at one time, Childe."

Spike licked his lips unconsciously. His eyes ran over the naked body of his Sire for the first time in more than a century as he pondered the methods of pleasure to provide him. He moved toward Angel's feet, curling up around his legs, and began his methodical assault on the dark vampire's senses.

He lifted one long leg and licked the sole of that foot, carefully running his tongue down along the arch, up the back of the ankle, to the well muscled calf. Spike nibbled on the back of one knee, then repeated the process on Angel's other leg.

His attentions then turned to his Sire's thighs, his open mouth trailing cool kisses, his fingers rubbing the silken hairs. He continued to work his way up his Sire's body, pausing to lick his flat belly...there...where he knew it would draw a short gasp... and he allowed himself to wonder whether anyone else had ever found that single, ticklish spot.

His mouth continued the path upward, leaving wet trails over Angel's chest, which was now rising and falling steadily. He bit at the flat, pale nipples, delighting in the way the strong hands suddenly grabbed the bed sheets. He placed his palms over those hands and held them steady, and Angel granted this.

His open mouth found Angel's neck and he gently nipped at the skin there, struggling to remain in human face. "Careful," Angel warned in a low, resonant tone, and Spike moved on.

He dropped kisses along Angel's jawline, the high bones of his cheeks, and his smooth forehead, kissing him with as much reverence as one would worship a king. Angel's head swam with it. His demon clamored against his chains.

Angel removed his hands from Spike's strong grip and pushed at the blond head, urging him down the length of his body. Spike complied quickly, and with one swipe of his tongue in the opposite direction, he was once again between his Sire's knees.

Sparing one quick glance at the aristocratic face, he bent his head, and without further prelude, took Angel's thick cock into his mouth. Angel's hips arched off the bed and a small cry escaped from his lips. Spike was a predator, his mouth was unbelievably strong, and his sucking was powerful, incessant, unyielding. Angel struggled for control as the blond head began to bob up and down over his aching erection.

When Spike's mouth found the sensitive knob of flesh ringing the underside of the head, he gave up the struggle. Spike's tongue an in ever quickening circles over that spot, every so often he would drop his mouth over the entire length, and he was beginning that purring again....Angel growled and his face shifted form. His hips rocked under his Childe, his fingers tangled in the stiff, blond hair.

Spike began to knead his thighs as if he were suckling, and Angel felt his sac tightening...He pulled away quickly, before he would finish, and his sensitive skin caught on one sharp fang. He murmured soft curses, and pulled the blond up by his underarms, tossing him onto the bed in front of him.

Spike looked at the drops of blood pooling on the swollen head of his Sire's cock, and his face regressed to natural demon form. "No," Angelus glowered, "not that just yet. I have much better plans for you, lover."

He easily flipped Spike onto his belly, then pulled him to his knees. He pushed the lean body down, so Spike's weight rested on his elbows and his ass was in the air. Angel ran his palm over the smooth, white cheeks, before slapping each once, enough to leave an angry red hand print. Spike did not flinch. "Don't move, Will," he instructed, with an extra slap to the back of each thigh for good measure.

Angel climbed off the bed and opened the small refrigerator the hotel had so kindly provided him. Boxes of what appeared to be Chinese take out filled the shelves. He tore one open with hands that were strangely enough having a rather difficult time obeying his wishes, and pulled out a bag containing blood. He tossed it in the microwave, and waited impatiently for the beeping sound to signal it was warmed. Then, he returned to the bed, pleased to see Spike still in proper position, and tore the bag open with his teeth.

The scent assaulted his nostrils. It was human blood. Spike must have brought it and put it in with his own, the supply of pig and animal blood he chose to keep. It had come from a blood bank, he supposed, its not like Spike could have drained it himself. Still, it was a haunting reminder of his aborted hunt in the alley, of what could have been.

He looked at his Childe, still kneeling in supplication before him on the large bed. He knew he was dancing with the devil here. But for the first time in a long time he thought he might actually lead. Spike was trembling; a mortal wouldn't have seen it, but Angel did. It was being here again, with his Sire, it was the sex, it was the intimacy, it was the smell of the blood. It occurred to Angel suddenly that they may not have any longer than this time together, that even for immortals as themselves, there aren't any promises of tomorrow. If this was going to be the only moment, well then, he was damn sure going to make it worthwhile.

He knelt behind Spike, placed two fingers in the bag, and reached around to hold the blood out to Spike's lips. "Drink," he commanded, and Spike needed no further invitation. He gulped greedily at the blood dripping from the long fingers, and Angel returned again and again to the bag, and to Spike's wet and rapidly warming mouth. He engaged the idea of pouring the blood over Spike's body, of covering him with it, of running his hands and mouth over the blood drenched body he so adored...He abandoned the plan as he realized he amount of blood he was fantasizing on the starch white sheets would be difficult to explain to the hotel staff upon checkout. He settled for plan B.

He dipped his whole fist this time into the plastic sack and sprinkled the handful of blood onto the crack of Spike's ass. He pulled the cheeks apart and poured the remaining nectar directly onto the object of his desire. 

Spike jerked as the warm liquid trickled down his cold flesh. He realized what his Sire intended and he was half crazed with lust. His body was changing completely, his demon was taking over, and soon only the smallest part of him would care at all about obedience.

Angel ran his bloodied hand over his own shaft, feeling it jump and twitch as the magick liquid coated his skin. The only forewarning he gave his Childe was a hand laid gently on his hip. And then he took him.

Spike cried out and Angel had to rest, perfectly still, to avoid being swept away too soon by this tidal wave of feeling. Spike was groaning, muscles clenching around Angel's cock, knuckles whitening against the sheets. Angel bit his own tongue, the sharp stab of pain and the coppery blood bringing the moment back into focus. Then he began to fuck Spike's ass with a slow, maddening rhythm.

The younger vampire responded by arching his hips back to meet every thrust, until their movements became increasingly savage. Angel reached around and grabbed his Childe's cock, stroking in that same rhythm. Spike called out his name, and Angel bit his tongue again to keep himself from climaxing . This was every forbidden thing...it was incest...rape... demons chanting...this was love...

The sounds of skin on skin and groans of primal pleasure filled the room. Angel let himself drown in the powerful scent of vampire sweat and blood and sex, in the feelings he'd thought long dead clawing their way back to the surface of his conscious self. Spike was whimpering, and he had to shake his head to clear the cobwebs so he could make out the words. "Please..please....let me..."

Angel gritted his teeth, and hissed, "Yessss." It was a feral grunt really which only passed for an answer.

"Need...to...um...." Spike was drunk on the pain and the pleasure and that was the best he could manage as a request. Angel pulled Spike into a sitting position on his cock, one arm around his waist, the other hand continuing to stroke Spike's aching erection. Chest to back, Angel continued to thrust into Spike's shaking body, now running his tongue over the smaller man's earlobes.

"Who do you belong to?" Angel whispered insidiously.

"You! Angelus, Christ...you..."

Angel raked his nails down the sculptured chest, drawing blood as he did so. Spike moaned, and his breathing quickened... " Say it!" Angel commanded.

Spike's voice was coarse with emotion and lust, "You, Sire...I belong to you...Angelus...please...I belong to you..."

Angel let himself go, and grasped the head of Spike's cock, twisting it, to bring them over the edge together. Spike screamed his name and Angel sunk his fangs into his Childe's shoulder, as he spilled his seed into his sweat covered body.

After several seconds, he collapsed on top of Spike, resting his upper body weight on his elbows, and nuzzling the back of the blonde's neck with his nose. Angel felt the purring again, in his chest, and was suddenly amazed to realize it was his. Odd, he thought...he hadn't done that when he and Buffy had made love...and that was supposed to be his moment of true happiness...

Then it occurred to him. It wasn't *Angel* purring, it was the demon inside him. Completely sated, bloodlust and fleshlust satisfied, he was resting. Quite contentedly, actually. They lay together for a few moments, fingers entwined, before Angel rolled off, and gathered Spike into his arms.

They were still laying that way, Spike's head on Angel's chest, his hands lightly rubbing the smooth skin , when there was a persistent knock on the door. Angel's voice had almost returned to normal, though his face hadn't. "What?" he growled, hoping the harsh tone could be mistaken for sleep.

"Someone reported strange noises in there, Sir, is everything all right?"

Spike opened his mouth, and Angel clamped a hand over it immediately. "Yes, I'm fine, I....... stubbed my toe. Sorry for any trouble."

Pause. "You don't have an animal in there, do you? That's against hotel policy."

Spike was laughing uproariously under the fingers wrapped around his head. "No, no animals. Just me. Sorry again." Footsteps shuffling away. Angel kept his hand firmly over Spike until a few more moments passed. When he finally let go, the laughter rang through the room.

"I wonder what their policy is on horny demons?" the blond speculated aloud. Angel half grinned, and rolled his eyes at his wayward Childe.

Spike reached onto the floor for his pack of cigarettes, lit one up, then offered a hit to Angel. The dark haired man shook his head. "You know, pet," Spike began, "you really ought to get another vice besides brooding. How bout some vodka? Or, maybe you could start shootin up..." He shrugged. "Not like any of it'll kill ya."

Angel looked at him and blinked. "I have another vice. I'm screwing you. And if that doesn't kill me, you're right, nothing is bound to."

Spike just blew smoke in the direction of his handsome face and smirked. They lay together in companionable silence for a while until Angel fell asleep, Spike's hand resting comfortably on his upper thigh.
 
 
 
 

Part Seven
 
 
 
 

Spike was getting restless. Restless and annoyed. He'd smoked an entire pack of cigarettes and the poof was still asleep. Old man. Single session of fuckin and he falls this soundly asleep? He had tried kissing the hard chest, running his tongue along Angel's half open lips, hell, he'd even tried biting on the larger vampire's neck, which usually at least pissed him off, but no luck. So he did what any hyperactive, bored Childe would do. He knelt between his Sire's legs and proceeded to suck the hell out of his cock.

Angel wondered how long he could feign sleep while Spike was so expertly pleasuring him before it drove the younger man to drive a stake through his chest. He'd been awake pretty much since the first kiss, but it was so delightful pissing the boy off this way again. And it was so damned easy, too.

Spike's talented tongue began to swirl around the head of Angel's cock and his hands gently massaged his balls. Angel was tired, the night had been long, and even indoors, the beginnings of sunrise always made him sleepy. It wasn't going to take much....Spike's sucking took on an urgency, his throat opening to allow Angel's full girth inside. Still, Angel continued to torment him with his non-responsiveness until Spike reached under his body, and two fingers disappeared inside...

Angel grabbed the back of the boy's head and called out in pleasure and surprise. Spike just chuckled against his throbbing member, and whispered something that sounded like, "knew it all along." Angel growled at him, but Spike was undeterred.

He wanted his Sire's full and undivided attention, his loyalty, his...fuck! It was the old insecurities, the ones Angelus had so carefully nurtured with his twisted games, they had never truly died. What he had confessed to Angel earlier had all been true. He belonged only to him. It made him sick to his stomach even now, because even with Angel's soul returned, he still looked into those eyes and saw Angelus. And wondered when the next rage would come, how the next hurt would feel, what the next humiliation would be. It was just as he'd accused the redhead and the like of doing. And yet he couldn't quit thinking about it. How could he know for certain....

The act was done before he could stop himself. Just a small nip really, just a tiny drop of blood from the swollen head. With Angel in the throes of his orgasm already, he likely didn't even notice....Spike sucked at the cum and the blood spurting from his Sire's cock, the mixture sweeter than any he had ever had the pleasure of taking, and found to his dismay and amazement that tears welled up in his eyes. There was a steady pulse under the flow shooting into his mouth. One sound repeated over and over again, waves on an endless sea. [****Will Will Will Will**** ................]
 
 

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

Angel grinned as Spike proceeded with his morning ritual. First, he wrapped himself much like a mummy in both sets of the sheets, then curled his legs under him, in fetal position. Once he got comfortable, only his eyes and the top of his nose would show through the blankets. It was a damn good thing, really, that he didn't need to breathe. Spike didn't like to be touched when he slept, and the barriers of linens were all quite effective in ensuring he was fairly unapproachable. The two hadn't slept together in more than a human lifetime, but Angel hadn't forgotten this about him.

He had forgotten how Spike *appeared* when he slept, however. Which was for all intents and purposes, like a corpse. No steady rise and fall of the lightly muscled frame, no slow, even heartbeat. No movements at all. When Spike slept, it was, well, like the dead. Most times his eyes were even open, staring, unseeing, at some mysterious point on the wall.

Angel wondered if he himself did anything similarly creepy in slumber. Darla wasn't much one for afterglow, and the other vamps he'd bedded were below him in stature. They would not have commented if he'd sung three choruses of "What do you do with a drunken sailor" in his sleep. And of course, he'd never spent a full night of passion and its aftermath with a human. Even when he was human, when he *slept* with women, he never slept with them. He found a new and profound measure of sadness in the realization that he had never had the simple pleasure of anyone even kicking him in the middle of the night to tell him he snored.

He hesitantly reached out one hand and covered Spike's half open lids, bringing his fingers slowly down to push them completely closed. Spike made some sort of noise in the back of his throat that wasn't entirely disapproving. He let his hand linger on his Childe's face for a moment, trying not to eavesdrop on the younger vampire's dreams. The blood bond was still strong from their earlier encounter. He knew he could slip inside of Spike's consciousness, as he had just slipped inside of his body, and be enveloped in the single, undeniable warmth, in the comfort of a familiarity that felt like home. It would be so sweet to give in to that escape at this moment.

He resisted the uninvited invasion, and instead, laid a hand on Spike's still shoulder. He expected no reply to his whisper of "pleasant dreams", and released his careful grip on the shoulder to turn over and find sleep himself.

A smaller hand on his own stopped him, as it wrapped around his fingers, and pulled him to cover the remaining distance between them. Spike pressed backward, into the curve of the older vampire's body, and pulled his arm about his waist, holding it there with both hands. Then he was again still. Angel closed his eyes, let himself relax into the pillows, into the softness of the blood stained sheets, into the unyielding strength of the smaller man. Then it was sunrise, and he slept.
 
 
 
 

Part Eight
 
 
 
 

Angel awoke to the bright sun attacking them dangerously through the blinds. In all his years as an undead thing, he'd never forgotten to draw the curtains before he fell asleep. He carefully extricated himself from the arms of his lover, and crawled out of bed, keeping low, and shielding his head with a blanket. He was relieved to recall he had however, hung the "Do Not Disturb" sign on the doorknob. Two vampires in game face, fucking, was not likely to go over big with even a Sunnydale chamber maid.

After repairing the offending window coverings, he glanced at the digital clock on the night stand. The avalanche of emotion hit him in the stomach. It was 10 AM. Buffy was being buried now. His unnecessary breath was ragged as he headed for the bathroom, and quietly closed the door.

Spike rolled over, his eyes following the trail where his Sire had been. He cursed himself for not remembering to draw the hotel's heavy shades the night before. He had wanted Angel to sleep through this morning, to wake up only when it was over, and the purple evening could lull him gently back to consciousness. "Christ on the cross," he muttered. " One good night of shaggin and I'm a fucking poet." He turned over and tried to find sleep again.

Angel half stumbled to the sink, leaning on it and forcing his breathing to slow. He looked up into the mirror, which for him may as well have been an oil painting of the bathroom. He blinked. Taped to the glass was a small envelope, with his initial drawn on it in careful hand. He pulled down the package and opened the flap. "Entertaining how we still check mirrors anyhow, ain't it? Thought you might want this. -W"

Angel poured the contents into his hand, wincing as he felt a sudden prickling sensation, almost as though he'd touched the end of one of Spike's cigarettes. He gazed down into his palm, and jiggled the gold chain there, to see Buffy's dainty cross, shining up at him in the morning sunlight. It was the cross he himself had given to her, to protect her from creatures like himself, and, although he'd been loathe to admit it at the time, to stake his claim on her. He had reveled in the thought that she would always have a part of him with her, on her, announcing to he world that she was under his protection.

He recalled his words to Spike at the funeral home. The protection was futile. She had been taken anyway, and with a violence that left him feeling nauseated, enraged, and helpless. He couldn't even seek revenge on the Thing that had done it. The Initiative had finally taken it out, too late.

He continued to stare at the totem in his hand, as the tears he hadn't yet allowed himself poured down his cheeks, a puddle of salt and blood soaking the tiny cross. Angel stood still in the stark white room, letting the indirect sunshine warm his cold skin, as he cried.

In the next room, Spike lay silent, listening to the heavy sobs coming through the door, and closed his eyes.

Much later, Spike stirred as he felt the mattress shift under the heavy weight of his Sire. "You alright, mate?" he mumbled, his voice heavy with sleep.

"Yea," Angel answered. "Yea, I'm better...Will?" he started. Spike turned over, and looked at him expectantly from under the pile of bed sheets. "I cant thank you enough, you know. For the cross. For..for being here for me. There just aren't words to.."

Spike moved to bridge the gap between himself and Angel on the large bed. Unraveling himself from the blankets, he lifted his blond head, and placed it against his Sire's chest. "We were never great with words, Angelus." he whispered. Then he lifted his gaze to stare invitingly into his lover's eyes. "Now *action* on the other hand...we always kicked some ass in that department..."

Angel grinned down at him, "Is it one of the signs of the Apocalypse that we are in total agreement about something?"

Spike shrugged, "I dunno, pet, the end of the world was always the Librarian's department." Angel laughed out loud until the sound was muffled by Spike's cold and persistent kiss.

Hard, incessant tongues battled for dominance, and this time, Angel didn't try to win. He allowed Spike to push him down into the mattress, to cover his body with those same cold, worshipful kisses, to force the small noises to rise, uncontrolled, from his chest. Then he returned the favor, with his Childe sprawled beneath him, arms thrown over his head, chest heaving with labored breaths.

They finally lay entwined together, side by side, dark head in the smaller vampire's lap, and the blonde's head resting comfortably against the older vampire's thigh. The mutual teasing was slow and gentle at the moment, full of affection and lust tempered significantly by sleepiness.

The question of who would lose control first was an ancient game to the pair of vampires, but seemingly one they hadn't yet tired of. Angel was thinking with a sense of wonder how rekindling their relationship had taken such little effort, [apart from the mutual ass kicking.] He knew the body in his arms almost as well as he knew his own. Knew what kind of touch would make it quiver and jump, what kind of kiss would make it tremble with ecstasy, what kind of touch would make it scream. He wanted to make him scream.

He redoubled his efforts on his Childe's cock, licking and sucking until he felt Spike's mouth clamp down on his own cock. This was reciprocal pleasure, Spike wasn't going to ask first, he wasn't even required to give Angel a warning. And so he didn't, just flooded Angel's mouth with sticky sweet cum, and Angel drank like he couldn't get enough. The scream came then, around his cock. It served only to intensify the pleasure of Angel's own orgasm as Spike greedily swallowed.
 
 
 
 

Part Nine
 
 
 
 

Angel wasn't aware that he'd fallen asleep again until the strange sounds brought him to the edge of arousal. There was a voice, quiet but intense, and although the tone was familiar, the words were not. It wasn't a language he believed he'd ever heard before...No wait....he knew it...he knew it instinctively, the way a parent knows her child's cry even in a roomful of others...It was some long dead tongue...used only for magick...

The realization made Angel come awake rather quickly. His past experience with foreign chants being lobbed at him had been quite unpleasant. Memory came flooding back. It always took awhile when he awoke in the evening. Spike. Hotel. Buffy's funeral. Spike. In his bed...

It was Spike chanting the prayer, and it danced in his head, a nursery rhyme, its words and its rhythm swirling inside his ears like butterflies. He wasn't sure if it even had a literal English translation. It was a supplication; Spike was requesting formal permission to drink his blood.

It had been ages since Angel was involved in Vampiric community. But Darla had been nothing if not doting, and she had schooled him well in all their formalities and rites. After a vampire was turned, most never drank from their Sires again. It disrupted the hierarchy to have one's minions constantly able to read their Masters' or Mistress' thoughts. A snack here or there in sexual context was acceptable, but more than that would be considered poor form.

Sires would occasionally allow access to their blood, and hence their very consciousness to their favorite Childer, but such a thing was rare, and required a measure of formality. It required this prayer. In all the years he and Spike had been together, he had never asked. Angelus would never have agreed to this. It would have broken down the order of things, the Dominant/submissive nature of their sexual and platonic relationship.

Angel, however, had no interest in his "status" as a vampire anymore. And it was obvious from what had already passed between him and Spike that he was willing to bottom to Angel willingly. There was no need to use coercion or force. So, foregoing the verbal answer to this ritual, Angel simply turned his head to the side and exposed his neck. It was the most trusting, submissive gesture he had ever made to his Childe.

Spike was not going to chance a change of heart. As Angel cradled the back of Spike's head, and pushed him toward his jugular vein, Spike was already moving closer to his Sire with preternatural speed. The shock of fangs breaking his skin jerked Angel up off the mattress before he could stop himself.

Then Spike was on top of him, his hard chest pressing down on Angel's, his small hips atop Angel's larger ones, his muscled legs straddling Angel's waist. His hands gripped Angel's hair ferociously, pulling back his head until Angel's spiky crown of hair met the pillow. Spike's teeth sliced only once, but once was enough to open the font, and then he clamped down with an urgency that alone would have robbed Angel of breath, if he'd had any.

A strangled moan arose from Angel's lips, shocking him with its raw sound. He barely heard the slurping, the animal noises coming from his Childe as he fed off of him. Angel felt like he was dying...it was like being sucked into Hell again, only...only it was gooood. It was...gods, he couldn't remember the last time anyone fed on him...why hadn't he let anyone feed on him?!

He grabbed at the bed sheets, knuckles turning white, as Spike's sucking found a rhythm much like a heartbeat. His legs wrapped around Spike's waist, and he thrust upward, and only now became aware that he was naked, and so was his Childe. That's how it was with the most intense forms of bloodplay....everything else became secondary.

But the blood served to enhance the connections of the flesh as well, and Angel was suddenly crazed with the need for release. The heat spread from his cock to his thighs, down his legs and arms, and back upward to his belly, until the only part of him that felt cool was his mouth....it was empty...it needed...he needed...But Spike was in no position for Angel to have access to his neck, and he was holding his head in a viselike grip. He had no recourse but to lie under his Childe, and drown.

Angel's hips were rocking of their own volition, his cock grinding into Spike's stomach, as every muscle in his body tensed. Hands came off the sheets and gripped Spike's neck, pressing him closer, even closer; he grabbed the smaller man's shoulders, raked his nails down his back. And still Spike kept sucking, draining him, his strong fingers rubbing Angel's neck to pump the artery, pushing the blood up and up...

Angel's heels dug into the mattress as his world went black, replaced instead by an explosion of color and light. The cumming paled in comparison, but Spike's stomach and chest were soaked with it. When Spike finally jerked his head upward, his face distorted with pleasure and sated hunger, the blood pooling in the corner of his mouth, it was all Angel could do to open his eyes.

He watched as Spike cleaned his lips, then bent to lick Angel's already healing wounds. The contact of skin on skin so soon after his orgasm made him jump, as aftershocks of pleasure washed through him.

Spike lifted his head again, and looked down into Angel's dazed expression. Spike himself was reeling from the feed, from the heretofore unknown intensity of Sire's blood, the unbelievable sense of power and control, and the accompanying walk through Angel's soul. The combination of vampire blood with a view of a human soul had been so heady, so potent, it had taken all of Spike's will to not drain him dry.

But it was seeing *Angel's* soul that had been the most profound part of this encounter. Spike had fancied he knew his Sire, knew his motivations and strengths, his foibles and weaknesses. He had allowed himself that arrogance to allow himself a reason for his hatred. He had discovered he'd known nothing. The emptiness he'd seen as he fed, the loneliness and isolation, the bottomless sorrow, they had rocked him to his core. The stoicism and detachment weren't an act. They weren't ego. They were his only defense.

Spike rolled off of Angel, and lay his head on his chest. His blond head rose and fell as the man beneath him panted in an attempt to regain control over his trembling body. He lightly caressed the scant hairs on Angel's chest, tangling his fingers in them, tugging. Angel's arm snaked around his lover's shoulders, his own fingers toying with the stiff, blond hair.

At last Angel's breathing slowed, stopped. Spike pulled up and rested on one elbow, looked down at him. The younger vampire's face was at last sliding back into human form, but he could still make out Angel's expression in the rapidly darkening room. His eyes were closed, and he looked...relatively peaceful, considering. Spike squinted at him, "You awake, Sire?"

A smile. "Yea, Childe. I'm awake. I'm just thinking...."

A groan from the blond. "Do I wanna know?" Angel opened his eyes, the cat-like glow cast on Spike's face. "Well, it kind of involves you, so....."

Spike sat up, reached to the night stand for his cigarettes. When he had settled against the pillows, and inhaled several puffs of white smoke, he looked at Angel expectantly. "I'm listenin, mate."

Angel watched as Spike blew smoke rings into the cool air of the room. At the moment, he found the act strangely endearing. "I was hoping you would come back to LA with me." Spike turned his head slowly, looking at Angel with an expression he could not read. He continued, "I want you to help me...at my work..."

Spike raised an eyebrow, looked at him quizzically. "You want me to work for you?"

"No! No. I want you to work *with* me. I want you to help me, like you helped..like you helped Buffy and the rest of them here."

"Uhm...Angelus...I didn't help them much here. Mostly I drove them crazy."

"Yea, you're good at that," Angel grinned.

Spike rested his hand on his knee, blew another smoke ring. "You ain't makin points here, Sire." But there was no ire in his tone.

"I'm sorry..yea..yea, you're right. I'm not doing this right. Okay.." Angel sat up and faced his Son. "I was just thinking about something I read a long time ago. There were these great warriors in Japan...they were called Ronin. They were superior even to Samurai, because they served no Master. They fought for themselves, what they believed in, and--"

Spike cut him off. "Uh, excuse me, Batman? Do I look like a truth, justice and the American way kinda vamp here? Cause last time I checked I was the BIG BAD -"

It was Angel's turn to interrupt, with an abrupt laugh. "First off, Spike, it's Superman who fights for truth and justice, and second, the last time *I* checked you had a chip in your head. The only thing bad about you now is your taste in clothes." Spike howled his displeasure and punched his Sire in the arm, none too gently.

Angel smiled, his face full of undisguised affection. "What I'm trying to say, Childe, is that want you with me. I miss you. I still love you, Will. I never stopped."

Spike just stared, unmoving, the now forgotten cigarette burning dangerously low in his fingers. Angel felt a moment of panic. Perhaps he'd been wrong. Perhaps what his Childe had seen inside his blood had disgusted him. It was Angel's deepest and oldest fear. That even in his humanity, he was unlovable.

Spike stabbed out his smoke on the night stand, then turned to look at the dark haired vampire. "You're pretty bloody neurotic for an immortal, you are aware of that aren't you?" His grin was fairly glowing.

Angel realized he had heard his last thoughts clearly. He groaned, "That's why I never let you feed off me." Spike got up off the bed and walked slowly around to stand above Angel at his right hand side. He sat again, next to him, legs dangling off the side of the bed, the nighttime having awakened his restless spirit. He searched for a way to say this with some measure of dignity... "Oh, sod it all to hell. Being with you is all I've ever wanted, Angelus. If you want me to come with you, I'll gladly go. I love you, my Sire." He sighed in resignation. "I've always loved you."

The larger man pulled the blond backward, and down into his embrace. His cool lips sought contact with the man's beneath him, but he was thwarted by a gentle shove in the chest. "What!?!?" Angel asked, exasperated.

"Well, what about your pet soul and the curse?" Spike asked seriously.

Angel's mouth formed a small "O", as he pondered how to answer the question. He had anticipated it, but not quite at this moment, as Spike's head was cradled against his already hardening erection. "I haven't lost it yet..." he tried to stall.

Spike sat up straight, much to Angel's and his hard on's disappointment. "Right, well, I figure that's cause of Buffy n' all. Not quite truly happy."

Angel heard a touch of insecurity in the tone, and answered quickly. "Oh! Yes, it's..it's not because of you..well it is..but it isn't...Oh hell, Spike, I can have sex with demons," he confessed. Spike blinked. Hard. "And you know this *how*?"

Angel looked away, covered his mouth, mumbled something into his hand. Then he remembered that right now Spike could read his mind so that was pretty -

"YOU BLOODY WELL FUCKED A DEMON!?"

Angel winced a bit. "Well, yea..I mean Buffy had moved on, she was engaged, and I was -"

Spike stopped him, "Oh ferchrissake, I don't mean Buffy...I mean YOU, *Batman*, you FUCKED a DEMON!!"

Angel sighed in exasperation, "I FUCKED YOU! Three times!"

Spike stifled a chuckle, "Well, mate that's true. But I'm a bit different, ain't I?"

Angel couldn't help but laugh aloud. "Oh yea, Spike. You're *more than* a bit different all right."

"Fuck you, Angelus" Spike countered.

Angel grinned again, with a new intent. "Okay," he started teasingly, loving the shudder that ran up the blond as he said it. "But first I gotta know...are you disappointed that I get to keep my soul?"

Spike just shrugged. His tolerance for serious conversation had reached its peak, and Angel recognized it. He was bouncing up and down on the bed, movement in overdrive. He'd been cooped up in this room too long, and although the distractions were more than adequate, he now needed out. And Angel would let him out....after a while....but first he needed an answer to his question. "Well?" he pressed.

Spike just shrugged. "I dunno, you've both got your strong points, you know? Like Angelus could've damn well *hunted and fed me*. Oh, and also, he didn't have that damn Nancyboy hair-do."

That was it. Spike wasn't going to leave this room for a loooooong time. Angel grabbed the blond vampire, and tossed him back onto the bed, pinning his wrists over his head. He leaned over menacingly, nodded down at his wayward Childe. "You pay."

Spike just snorted. "Yea, yea, pet. Promises, promises..."

The rest of the world was swallowed into their savage kiss.
 
 
 
 
 
 

Part Ten
 
 
 
 

"I've got a few things to do before we leave town," Angel was saying. He was toying with the idea of finding the mortal couple he'd almost taken the other night. But what would he say? "Hi there, I'm the fellow that almost ate your spleens. Really sorry about that. Here's my business card, if you're ever in LA..." Perhaps it wasn't such a great idea. He would simply have to add that night to his long list of amends.

Spike was watching him pull his jeans on, the way he wriggled into them, the way he had to adjust himself to get the zipper closed. Catching the stare, Angel grinned, and tossed Spike his own clothes. Spike sighed. "Yea, mate. I do too. Where do you wanna meet up later?"

Angel tugged his tee shirt over his head, his shoulder muscles flexing and relaxing as he did so. Spike let his gaze linger for one moment longer, before pulling his own clothes on. "How about the cemetery, say at 4 AM? That way we should make it to LA before sunrise." Spike nodded in agreement.

"By the way, " Angel started, in a tone that began to worry the blond vampire. "You are aware that you're going to have to get along with Cordelia and Wesley, now."

Angel was grinning, and it irked Spike to no end. "The fairy and the princess? Cor, Angelus, how can you tell em apart?"

Angel sighed. "I'm serious, Spike. They work for me, they mean a lot to me. You're going to have to be on your best behavior. Whatever that is....." he left that thought hanging as it occurred to him that in the past he would have just insisted the younger man obey, or face harsh consequences. But while carrying over the Dom/sub part of their relationship outside the bedroom would have made life easier for Angel, it would do nothing to engender trust from the boy he had once ruled with an iron fist. He wanted that trust. He wanted his lover to submit to his will utterly of his own volition, or not at all. He wasn't interested in having a pet. And Spike wasn't much good at playing a puppy anyhow.

"So are they still boffing?" Spike queried casually, putting his jewelry back on.

Angel looked at him blankly, "Boffing?"

Spike sneered, "Boffing...dancin the blanket hornpipe, doing the nasty -"

Angel cut him off, " I KNOW what BOFFING is, I just don't see how it relates to Cordy and Wesley." He looked confused.

Spike shook his head. "Christ, Angelus, you really do have your head up your ass. Do you pay any attention whatsoever to all the subtext that goes on in this group??"

Angel looked completely baffled now, and Spike rolled his eyes at his Sire. "Subtext?" Angel repeated.

"Never mind ya poof. Ill be a good boy for your new pets...'scuse me, ...*employees*.." Spike's voice was filled with a wicked mockery. He tied his Doc Martens with a smirk. He loved these boots. He'd killed the bloke who was wearing em just to get the shoes really, his blood had tasted like cheap American beer. Ah, the good old days. He brightened, adding, "What's the matter ..don't you trust me?"

Angel heard his own words tossed back at him, and just groaned in reply. Spike laughed, and returned to their earlier conversation. "Cemetery it is, pet. See you in a couple of hours..." He pulled Angel down into a lingering kiss, his tongue sweeping over the older man's canines, and leveled a playful swat on his fine ass before swooping dramatically out the door, in a flurry of gray and black leather.

Angel watched him go, shaking his head. "I think I'm in trouble," he sighed. Then, "How could I have missed subtextual boffing?"
 
 

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

The vampire knelt by Buffy Summers' grave, sweeping away small patches of black soil from the headstone. He stared at the words written there, and thought about how few times they had actually had "the" conversation. A Slayer's lifespan was normally short, but the Scooby Gang were all whistlers in the dark. They didn't talk about death much, at least not their own. He couldn't recall ever hearing Buffy mention what she wanted as an epitaph. In the end, the marker said simply, "Buffy Anne Summers 1981-2001." What else was there to say?

He got up onto one knee, and traced the letters of her name. The other vampire stood watch from behind a tall monument, his black clothes blurring into the darkness around him. He knew the other man would pick up his scent, but he stayed back, unwilling to interrupt the stillness. As he stood, whispers came to him, although that night the air was silent.....

[**I'm sorry**]Visions... [Fighting...sparring...unfinished....] [**Should have told you**][Stolen kisses...unfinished...][ **Loved you, Slayer**]. Then, the blond vampire stood, brushed off his black jeans, and walked away from the grave.

He came upon Angel at the gate, just before 4 AM. Angel said nothing, just looked into Spike's sharp, angular features, and gave him a half smile. Spike kept his face impassive. "You know, pet, I read up on those Rovin Warriors," he began.

"Ronin," Angel corrected.

"Yea, whatever. I read about em. Seems if they ever messed up one of their quests, you know what they'd do? I'll tell ya...the bollocks tossed themselves on their swords."

Angel pursed his lips, then nodded. "Yea, that's accurate. They were warriors bound by honor. If they failed in their duty, they would kill themselves to show their remorse and their shame."

Spike frowned at the older vampire for a moment. "Well, mate, I only got one thing to say bout that little ideal." He paused, and Angel waited expectantly.

Spike finished the thought in his heavily accented English, "***Fuck*** that shit!!"

Angel burst into laughter; he tossed his head back and looked up at the star-filled sky. The crescent moon was slowly completing its descent. In a few short hours it would be morning. He breathed in the cool air, and turned to Spike. "Yea," he replied thoughtfully, "Fuck that."

Then he grabbed his Childe's hand, and squeezed. He didn't let go until they left the cemetery and got into the car.
 

go to the sequal Ronin II: Within You

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