Distribution: http://www.grapevine.net/~lwilson/btvs.html. If you have permission to put my fics up, you're welcome to it. All others, please ask.
Rating: NC17
Content: male/male sex
Spoilers: Set over a year after "Not Fade Away"
Disclaimer: Not mine, this is sad. They belong to the evil god Joss.
A/N: Written for the A/S I'll Not Fade Away ficathon for September 10th's lyrics. I didn't use the lyrics, but I think the theme of the story is inspired by them. Spike's back in a familiar role, just on a different page.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Your thoughts will soon be wandering
The way they always do
When you're riding sixteen hours
And there's nothing much to do
And you don't feel much like riding,
You just wish the trip was through
Here I am _ on the road again
There I am _ up on the stage
Here I go _ playing star again
There I go _ turn the page
~Turn the Page by Bob Seger
It took Spike a long time, but he finally accepted what Angel knew all along.
He was never going to heal. Not completely. The wounds, like stigmata, weren't going to go away.
Angel's heart was damaged by mystical means, and while it didn't ooze blood or hurt all that much, it weakened him. Sometimes so much he couldn't even get out of bed. They spent the first year trying to find a cure, someone to heal him and restore him to full strength, but finally they ran out of sources of potential aid. It was then that Spike found acceptance and stepped into the role of protector.
*****
Angel stirs restlessly on the bed, and Spike glances over his shoulder, watches until his sire settles again, then turns back to gaze into the early evening. He'll let him sleep a while longer while he loads the car with their meager possessions. Last night he spotted a Wolfram & Hart operative and knew it was time to move on again. Miami Beach was just too hot, in too many ways.
Maybe somewhere in New England in time for the leaves to change. Angel'll like that. Viewing changing foliage is a very poofy thing to do.
Spike smiles slightly and flicks his cigarette through the open window, then turns to pack.
*****
Angel winces as he settles into the passenger seat of their stolen Ford POS. One hand strays to his heart momentarily, then drops quickly, but he knows Spike caught the movement. He doesn't say anything, though, just closes the door and rounds the car to the driver's side.
Spike starts the car, checks that they have a full tank of gas, and heads out of the motel parking lot.
"Where are we going?"
"Dunno, luv. Any place you want to see?"
Angel thinks about it for a minute, then shakes his head wearily. "Not particularly."
"I'm thinking some place cooler where the nights are long."
"Nome?"
"Not that cool," Spike chuckles back, pleased that Angel made a sort of joke. Sometimes even talking takes too much out of him. "Massachusetts maybe, or Vermont. Always wanted to learn to ski."
They lapse into companionable silence for a while, Spike smoking--a habit he took up again when they went on the run-- Angel dozing and occasionally reading snippets of poetry from a tattered volume of Longfellow. Spike thinks about turning on the radio, but that inevitably leads to a clash over their musical taste, so he lets his mind wander as they travel up the coast of Florida on a highway growing more deserted as the hours pass.
As always, his thoughts eventually drift back to The Day when it all ended. Silently he mourns Wesley and Gunn, and wonders where Illyria's gotten herself off to--she stayed with them for the first few months, but needed more violence then the two vampires, one wounded, one sorrow-stricken, were able to provide her outlets for. He just hopes she's doing some good in the world and not trying to destroy it.
Though, at times, Spike knows that ending it all might very well be the best outcome. Those times come rarely, though, because while he's tired and Angel's hurt, there are some in the world he doesn't want to see die.
His thoughts stray to Buffy and he smiles sadly as he pictures her, Dawn, Giles, all the Scoobies and new Slayers, and hopes their lives are happy. He and Angel briefly thought of going to them for help, but bringing Wolfram & Hart down on Buffy's neck is the last thing either of them wants.
The rustling of paper draws Spike out of his thoughts and he glances over to see Angel reading. "Read one out loud, luv."
Angel cocks an inquisitive eyebrow but does as the other vampire requests, reading poetry until he becomes too tired and drops off to sleep.
Spike sighs softly and begins to look for some place to stay for the day.
*****
Somewhere in southern Georgia he finds a motel off the beaten track and gets them checked in. As he pays for one night, he frowns at the meager five dollars left in his wallet and knows it's time to go to work again.
Spike settles Angel in the dingy room and unpacks the cooler. "I have to go out for a while, but I want you to drink a whole pint." He ignores Angel's stiffening shoulders and holds out a plastic container of blood. "Sorry there's no microwave."
Angel doesn't take the container and Spike's eyes narrow. "Don't pull this shit on me." He shakes the blood a bit. "Drink it."
"I'm not hungry," the older male whispers, his voice as cold and flat as his eyes have become. Anger floods the younger vampire and he slams the container down on the dresser. "Dammit, Angel. I'm doing this for you. You need blood every day, more than I do, and we need safe places to stay. We're in hiding. We can't access any of our bank accounts." As he vents, he strips off his duster and digs in his bag for a clean t-shirt. Glowering at his sire, he changes into it, tucking the tight red knit into the waistband of his black jeans.
"I don't want you to do this."
Spike's heart nearly breaks at the frustration and sorrow in Angel's voice, but this is an old argument and they have no choice. He drops into a crouch before his sire, placing his hands on Angel's thighs, running them slowly up to the crease of his pelvis. As his thumbs brush the bulge behind the zipper, his eyes meet his sire's. They're no longer flat and cold. Heat's growing in them. Spike licks suddenly dry lips. "Eat, luv, rest. When I get back..."
It's been a while. Angel's rarely strong enough for sex, but Spike thinks maybe today will be different. The hardening beneath his thumbs indicates that, too. He wishes he could stay now, but they need money more than either of them needs to fuck.
As Spike begins to rise, Angel catches his head in his hands, lifts him for a hard kiss, which he finally breaks with a growl, "I hate this."
And Spike knows that what Angel hates the most is that Spike is the one doing the providing. It only serves to make him feel more helpless, but there's nothing the younger vampire can do about that. Gently he pulls away from his sire and heads into the night.
*****
Dawn is rising when Spike returns to the motel, two hundred bucks filling his wallet. He enters the room to find Angel in bed, back turned to the door. A glance to the bathroom shows the container that held the blood washed and drying on the counter and he nods in satisfaction. His own hunger was sated by a trick wanting the kink of a vampire biting and drinking from him.
His desire, on the other hand, is fresh and aroused even more by the scent of his sire's clean skin and natural muskiness. Stripping off his clothes, Spike slides beneath the sheets behind Angel and cuddles up to him.
"Was it worth it?" Angel growls gruffly, but doesn't spurn the hand running over his chest.
"Got enough to keep us in gas, food and lodging for three or four days, so, yeah." As he speaks, Spike trails the hand down over prominent ribs and a slightly concave stomach. Vampires aren't supposed to lose weight but somehow his sire has managed to do the impossible once again. There's one thing still heavy about him, and Spike wraps his hand around it, pumping it gently.
Angel groans and arches into the touch, then presses back, rubbing against Spike's torso and growing erection.
This began from loneliness and desire and a need for the touch of their own kind. While they'd fucked each other raw in the good old days, their more recent relationships--both when Angel was souled and not--were sexless. But, the memories were always there, and that need for mutual comfort finally got the better of them both.
Spike knows it's not love, but then it doesn't always need to be. They're all each other has and this is comfort and familiarity as much as sexual release.
"That's it, luv," Spike croons as Angel hardens and grows slippery. The younger male thrusts his pelvis, sliding his cock between his sire's parted thighs in a parody of intercourse, while he pumps his fist around the shaft in his hand.
"Want to see you," Angel grunts out, and Spike accommodates him, rolling them so that Angel's on his back and Spike's straddling his thighs. His hand never stops moving, and now they both watch it, the head of Angel's cock disappearing and reappearing as the palm glides up and down the shaft.
Spike bows his back and flicks his tongue across the tip, tasting his sire's pre-cum, making both of them growl harshly. Sliding down trembling legs, eyes never leaving Angel's dark, burning ones, Spike bends farther and sucks the pendulous ball sacs between his teeth, before licking up the staff and down the other side.
Angel hisses and bucks his hips, his hands fisting in the rough sheets beneath him. Head arched into the pillow, his carotid artery thrumming with borrowed blood, he cries out and comes.
Licking his hand, Angel's stomach and cock, Spike cleans them both like a cat, purring in pleasure. In his poor condition, Angel never lasts long, but that doesn't bother Spike.
"Watch me, Angel," he says softly, rising back to his knees. One hand cups his balls, the other pumps his cock. Eyes locked on his sire's, Spike masturbates until he groans hoarsely and comes, spilling over them both.
*****
After cleaning them both up, Spike slides back beneath the covers and pulls Angel into his arms, resting the dark head on his shoulder, his hands soothingly stroking trembling shoulders. He thinks his sire is asleep until he speaks.
"How long can this go on, Spike?"
"As long as we have, Angel," he replies. "I won't leave you."
"...Why?"
Spike's smile in the darkened room is bittersweet. "Because we're all each other has, and this is what I do, what I am, thought you knew that."
Taking care of ill vampires is his forte, after all.
The End