Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Angel is surprised when he goes to a brothel and finds Spike working there.
DISTRIBUTION: Various lists and Wierd Romance RP- BtVS/Ats RP http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WierdRomance and our website http://www.geocities.com/sireandchilde/home.html . Anyplace else is fine, just let us know where it is going.
Spoilers: Through Ats Season 5: Power Play.
Disclaimer: All hail the almighty Joss and ME. I claim no ownership over the wonderful characters and universe he and the other writers and the actors created. I'm just having a little fun with it.
Feedback: Please? E-mail to goddess_salustra@juno.com
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Angel steps out of the limousine and sighs. This is all part of his grand plan to prove his descent into darkness to The Black Thorn, but he is more hesitant about this than almost anything else. In front of him is the door to Plaisir, *the* most exclusive demon brothel in town. He is intent on patronizing it, doing something a bit kinky and shameful to add to his picture as a man corrupted. He squares his shoulders and walks to the door.
A huge burly doorman stands there. "Do you have an appointment?" Angel nods. He glares at the man and hands over his card wordlessly. The doorman looks at it, raises an eyebrow, but opens the door and stands aside. Angel walks through and into a sumptuously-appointed lobby, all marble and richly-wallpapered walls. A lovely demoness glides across the floor to greet Angel and her voice is melted butter.
"Ahhh, such a pleasure to see you here. We are most honored by your patronage."
Angel nods, shifts. "Yes, yes. So how does this work?"
The demoness inclines her head. "Yes, of course, your time is valuable.
First we determine your preferences. Then we take you to a viewing room, where you can see the various artistes. Once you have picked your artiste and made any special needs known, you will be sent to a room where the artiste will be waiting. You may take as long as you need and do whatever suits your desires.although anything resulting in permanent damage to the artiste is not allowed."
Angel nods. "Good enough. Let's get started." He was both uncomfortable and now a little intrigued.
"Male or female?"
Angel shrugs, as if it no big matter. "Male." He figures that it will seem less like cheating on Nina, in his own head, if he is with a man. It's also more.degenerate. Unlike him, or at least unlike anything he had done since he acquired a soul.
The demoness turns and starts gliding away. "Please follow me." Angel walks along behind her into a darkened room. She pushes a button and part of the wall slides away and there is a window into another room. "They cannot see you," she says. "Look and pick who you desire. If you wish to see any of them closer let me know and I will have them come closer to the window."
A number of males, of all sorts and all sizes, lounge about in the room. The only thing they all have in common is exceptional looks. He lets his eyes roam about the room, considering and rejecting choices, when his eyes are drawn to a flash of white skin in the center of the room. He sees a pair of shapely muscled legs sheathed in wine-colored spandex and he follows them up the body to a smooth white sculpted chest and a shock of tousled platinum hair. He realizes, with a sense of shock, that it is Spike. It's with even more shock that he realizes looking at him like this, and realizing he could have him, is getting him harder by the second.
"The one in the red spandex, in the center there. Him." Angel nods in Spike's general direction.
"Ah, such excellent taste. He is Beau Du Jour..the beauty of the day. He works here only rarely and he is always in high demand. I shall have him delivered for you. Any special requirements?"
Angel thinks for a moment and then a slow cruel smile crosses his face. Eyes glowing, he turns back to the demoness. "Yes."
A short while later he is entering a room. The air is thick with heavy, cloying incense.a special brand meant to cover odors and essentially nullify the advantages of vampire scent. The room is lit only with a few candles-plenty of light for Angel to see the beautiful sight laid out before him. Spike is naked, chained hand and foot to the bed, heavy blindfold covering his eyes. His pale flesh fairly gleams in the candlelight against the dark purple silk sheets. He stirs a bit, obviously able to hear Angel's entry into the room.
Angel begins slowly removing his clothing. He is getting more and more aroused, watching the gentle play of muscles underneath that white skin. As he finishes he moves over, approaching the bed, his hands itching to touch that skin, wondering if it is still as soft and silky as he remembers. He lowers his hand to Spike's chest, splaying his fingers, and yes it is. Perhaps even more so. He strokes, gently. Spike begins to stir, moaning. The sound breaks something in Angel and he stops. He pulls his hand back. He steps back and pulls on his pants and steps outside the room.
Once outside he presses the button on an intercom. "Yes sir?" A female voice answers. "I need something delivered to this room right away." Angel barks.
A few minutes later he re-enters the room with a room-service cart. He pulls up a chair and sits next to Spike. He reaches over and pours some of the contents of a thermal carafe into a waiting mug and then dips his index finger into it. He runs the finger over Spike's lips and pushes gently. Spike opens his mouth and sucks the finger in, being surprised with the taste of warmed human blood. Angel moves his other hand to stroke through Spike's hair. It is soft, ungelled, and feels like silken threads caressing his hand. Angel takes a spoon now, and starts feeding Spike the blood spoonful by careful spoonful, watching as his eager tongue licks the spoon each time. Every so often he will soak his finger again just to feel that incredible tongue and mouth work its magic on his finger. The entire time his other hand just strokes ever so gently through Spike's hair, over and over.
When the blood is finally gone, Angel pushes the cart away. He stands up, stripping down to his silk boxers and picks up the keys that lie on the stand next to the bed. He releases Spike from the manacles and then he climbs into the bed. He lies on his side and rolls Spike to face him, pushing down Spike's hands as Spike reaches for him. He strokes Spike's face, slowly, oh so gently, feeling every inch of it, tracing it carefully with his fingers as if he intended to sculpt it from memory.
Spike begins to softly purr. Angel nearly breaks his silence then as the sound almost undoes him, but he manages to hold on, closing his eyes for a second against the memories it brings. He has heard that purr recently but not for him. It had been many years since that purr was for him.
For his part Spike was baffled by the behavior of the man on the bed with him. He knew there were many levels of kinky but having someone delivered chained to a bed so you could feed them blood with a spoon? And now this incredibly intimate and soft touching of his face. Normally those who engaged his services were seldom interested in touching his face beyond kissing or a few perfunctory caresses. He couldn't help the purring that burst out of him at the tender treatment.
Angel finally takes his hands from Spike's face and pulls Spike close to him. He wraps his arms around Spike and caresses his back in long soothing strokes. Spike continues to purr as Angel drifts off into a gentle sleep. Spike begins to doze off as well when his brain finally puts it together-the familiarity of this pose and what he can feel of the body next to him-and he knows who has bought his time. He falls into sleep with a silly triumphant grin on his face.
Angel wakes, finally, and Spike is still motionless. He looks at the perfect body lying next to him and he wonders again why he couldn't just take him, couldn't fuck him into the bed and make him moan and scream. Even now he is hardening just looking at him. He sighs as he realizes why. Spike wouldn't be moaning because he wanted to be taken. He'd be moaning because he was playing at being a whore. And Angel still has enough pride that he wants Spike to want him. Now the only question is what to do from here. It is.annoying and perplexing that after all this time that he still wants Spike, and wants Spike to want him.
He sits and thinks and ponders for a long while as he unconsciously starts stroking Spike's hair again and then rubbing his back with his other hand. Spike purrs and stirs a bit but mostly just relaxes and enjoys the treatment. Angel finally comes to his decision and his eyes flash with fire and purpose. He stops rubbing Spike, kissing his neck before he climbs off the bed and pulls his clothes back on.
He strides out of the room and back to the entryway. The demoness comes to him as he stands there. "Did you enjoy your choice?" She asks.
"*Very* much. So much so I want to have him any time he comes in. I will pay whatever premium is needed to have myself notified and him put aside for me."
The demoness does not pause or seem surprised. "Of course. I will send terms to your office?"
Angel nods. In this matter whatever money is required is a small price to pay. "Yes. Do that."
It's about a week later. Angel is in a meeting when he gets a buzz from Harmony. "Boss, that call you said to put through no matter what is on the line."
"Thanks Harmony." He picks up the phone. "He's there? I'll be right over. Same arrangements as before."
Angel stands up. "Meeting over. I'm afraid I have pressing business. So sorry to leave abruptly. Harmony will reschedule you." Without further waiting he grabs a small package out of his desk and heads straight for the Viper. He makes incredible speed to Plaisir.
Before long he is back in the room. Spike is chained, like before. Angel opens the package and straps a contraption around his neck. It will disguise his voice so he can speak to Spike. Angel strips off down to his boxers, like before, and comes over to the bed. He strokes Spike's hair and then over his face. "Hello, pretty," he says. He doesn't dare use endearments he used to use with Spike.
Spike stirs and moans. "Hello. What do you want me to call you?"
Angel trails his hand down gently onto Spike's chest, brushing with just his fingertips. "You can call me Michael." After all, Michael is an angel. An archangel with a sword of flame no less.
"Michael. You requested me. They hurried me back here as soon as I arrived." His voice is cool and calmly curious.
"Yes. I put in a request for you any time you come. Is that a problem?"
Spike shrugs as best he can in chains. "No. It's just that if you want me that much I could arrange to see you elsewhere. I have no contract here."
Angel's eyes flash with anger. Spike just offering this to this man he doesn't know. "How can you say that? You're safe here. Elsewhere I could do whatever I wanted to you. Capture you and keep you forever."
"Not like anyone would miss me." Spike's voice is bitter.
Angel is surprised at Spike's tone. Does Spike really think that of him? That he wouldn't miss him if he were gone? "A beauty like you? Surely someone is wrapped around your slender little finger." He continues stroking Spike's chest.
Spike shakes his head. "No. No one."
Angel stops abruptly and goes into the bathroom that adjoins this room. He runs a bath, putting scented oils into it and then comes back, stripping out of his boxers and releasing Spike. "Come with me." He guides Spike into the bathroom and then picks him up and settles with him into the tub. He pulls Spike back so his head sits on Angel's chest.
"Why do you do this?" He asks at last.
"You want the real answer or a pretty sexy little whore answer to make your cock twitch?" Spike asks.
At that, of course, Angel's cock does twitch, despite his best intentions. He could never resist Spike talking dirty. "The real answer."
Spike sighs. " 'Cause I want to be touched. I can't stand it when no one touches me, hate to be alone.and NO ONE touches me. No one hugs me hello. No one. I'd rather be a whore than never be touched."
Angel's heart is almost pierced through at this. "Couldn't.couldn't you just get a girlfriend, or a boyfriend?"
"I'd have to lie to them. I hate lying. I already love someone and they don't love me and I won't break someone else's heart just so I can have company."
Angel is hopeful and downcast all at once. He asks, tentatively, "And who is that?"
Spike shakes his head. "You're not paying enough for that. You own my body and my time but I get to keep my heart."
At that Angel falls silent. He soaps up a sponge and starts washing Spike, moving him around as he pleases. Spike lets himself be moved and he purrs at the treatment. His face is relaxed and Angel wishes he could see his eyes right now, see those lovely blue orbs blissed out as he knows they are. Spike always liked to be bathed. He was a decadent little thing that loved little indulgences. Angel's throat tightens up. Why did it have to be so hard between them? Why couldn't he just *do* this for Spike? Touch him and love him?
Finally the bath is over and Angel lifts him out, standing him up while he climbs out himself. He dries Spike and then himself and then scoops Spike into his arms. He carries him back into the room and lays him gently on the bed. He takes a bottle of violet-scented lotion from the package he brought and begins rubbing it into Spike's skin. Spike stretches cat-like onto the bed and purrs louder, just letting Angel rub him and touch him. Angel works him over firmly and smoothly, touching everything but his cock.
This whole time, Spike wonders again what Angel is playing at. Why this careful, non-sexual touching? Not that he objects.but Angel is interested. He can tell. He can smell the arousal. So why doesn't Angel just fuck him and be done with it? He's confused, but he's not about to let Angel know that he knows. He just lets his mind worry over the problem as his body relaxes and purrs and lets itself be moved and stroked and rubbed.
Angel finishes and lays down, pulling Spike to him. This time there are no shorts between then but he just pulls him close and falls asleep again to Spike purring.
He wakes up some time later with a motionless Spike still plastered to him. How could he have ever given this up? Why can't he just swallow his pride and talk to Spike and ask him to come back?
Because Spike might say no. Spike might say no and mock Angel and then Angel would lose what little he has of Spike now and that he cannot endure. At least this.this he can have. He strokes his hands through Spike's baby soft hair.
Spike stirs and murmurs sleepily, "Sire." And then is motionless again.
Angel looks down at Spike and growls fiercely, filled with pride and desire and the urge to possess. And he knows, suddenly, that he *has* to win Spike back. There can be no other outcome.
He goes back to stroking Spike's hair until Spike stirs more and then speaks again. "Michael. You sure like my hair, don't you?" He asks, sleep still clinging to his voice.
Angel chuckles. "Yes I do, pretty. Listen.the weekend is coming up. I want you. For the whole weekend. From Friday night til Monday morning. If I make the arrangements can you be available?"
Spike shivers and purrs. He knows this is Angel and he is amazed Angel would spend a whole weekend with just him, no office, no distractions. He pretends to take a moment to consider and then nods. "Bloody 'ell, why not? Be a mountain of cash and I'm curious as 'ell to find out what you intend to do with me over an *entire* weekend." Maybe stop this messing about and fuck him, he hopes. At least solve the mystery of why he is playing this little game.
Angel's hands tighten possessively in Spike's hair. He wants him so much. Wants to take him right now and shag his little peroxide ass into the bed and make him beg for more. But he wants his heart more. So he doesn't, just makes his hands relax and strokes his hair some more. "Good." He tips Spike's head back and his lips crush against Spike's, rough, demanding. Spike opens his mouth to him and moans and he surrenders himself to the kiss. Angel pulls back, finally, and then slips out of the bed. He is hard as steel and he'll have to run to the bathroom he knows and wank off, thinking about that kiss, when he gets back to the office, but for now he just has to leave this room before he forgets his plan and takes Spike.
He dresses quickly and leaves, stopping to make arrangements with the demoness for a proper apartment for the weekend. Her eyes fairly glow at the prospect, realizing how tidy a sum Angel's little obsession is going to make her.
The rest of the week passes agonizingly slow for Angel. He finds himself watching Spike whenever he gets the chance. On those few occasions that Spike catches him looking, he quickly plasters an annoyed or dismayed expression on his face as if Spike were doing something wrong that drew his attention. He fins himself having to take showers during the middle of the day so he can wank in peace, thinking about Spike. Being around him without touching him is growing intolerable.
Towards the end of the week, he gets a card from Nina. It's with a shock that he realizes that from the moment he walked into Plaisir and saw Spike that he hasn't spared a moment's thought for Nina. He owes her a very long talk after.if there is an after.
For Spike's part, he actually catches Angel looking a lot more times than Angel realizes. He is confused by the look of naked longing on Angel's face. What does Angel want? He could have fucked him silly twice over now. Surely it's just some elaborate mind game or some deep hidden kink of Angel's. It couldn't be anything more than that.
The weekend comes, finally. Angel arrives and is shown to the apartment. He does a quick tour of the rest of the apartment and checks the facilities. He warms up a cup of blood from the supply left in the refrigerator and takes it to the bedroom. Spike is there, blindfolded and chained as usual. Angel strips naked and goes to the bed, unlocking the manacles and sitting Spike up. "Hello pretty," he says. "Sit up and scoot forward a bit for me."
" 'ello Michael." Spike stretches slowly and curls into a sitting position. He languorously shifts forward and Angel slides in behind. He pulls Spike back against his chest. Spike relaxes. "What'd you 'ave in mind, Michael?" Spike asks.
"First, this," Angel says, moving the cup to Spike's mouth. He pushes away Spike's hands when he tries to take the cup. "No, let me." He feeds the blood to Spike, sip by sip, his other hand stroking through Spike's hair. Spike begins to purr. "You are not to do a thing this weekend but let me take care of you."
Spike nods his understanding and keeps drinking the blood. When he finishes, he asks, "So.am I going to be blindfolded all weekend? Or do I finally get to see you?"
"You might. We'll see."
Angel uses a remote to turn on the stereo. He spends the evening just petting and stroking Spike, feeling his skin, holding him against him. He kisses his head and his shoulders and the back of his neck from time to time. To his own amazement, he finds himself purring right along with Spike. He is deeply contented just to hold him. Not that he still doesn't want to fuck him into the bed-'cause he does. His cock stays semi-hard all evening from the contact with Spike's ass, no matter how much and how often he tells himself there will be no sex. But while he still held vivid memories of sex with Spike, he had somehow forgotten all about this.the simple pleasure of holding him and touching him, and how fully responsive Spike is to being touched. The little moans he makes, the purring, the arching, the rubbing. Spike really is just a needy little kitten who wants nothing more than to be petted and praised. Oh, yes, praise. He finds himself murmuring endearments to Spike to, all evening, easily and without thought. Telling him how beautiful he is, how soft, how sexy. Calling him little pet names and sweet phrases he hasn't used in a hundred years. All the things he has been thinking all week looking at him spill out of him now in a steady torrent.
For Spike's part, he is in a kind of heaven and hell all at once. He has to admit that the more Angel holds him, the more he never wants it to stop. He's already dreading the end of this weekend. The return to 'reality'. He wants this to go on forever. He finds old feelings awakening and there is the hell. Because he is sure, deep down, that this is some elaborate game of Angel's. And he doesn't want it to be. He wants Angel again. He's kept those feelings away all this time, beaten them down, buried them under hate and resentment and feelings of abandonment. And now here they are, lumbering to life, filling him with desire and love and the desperate need to be loved in return. Every touch, every endearment strips away a layer of armor he has used to protect himself against that raw burning need.
When the time finally comes to sleep, when Angel lies down beside him, Spike clings to him. Rocks against him. Begs him with his body to quench this aching desire. Maybe if Angel would just take him, just fuck him, he could write this off and go back to the way things were before. He could pretend this was just another trick, another faceless person who paid to use his body. But Angel just stills him with his hands, holds him close, coos to him, purrs to him, tries to soothe him to sleep. And finally sleep does come. He falls asleep against Angel, purring, and his dreams are sweet.
Spike awakens the next morning with a sleeping Angel next to him. He chances being discovered to lift his blindfold and look at Angel. His face is so peaceful, so relaxed, so heartbreakingly radiantly handsome that it makes Spike just want to wake him up and tell him he loves him and drown him in kisses until Angel relents and makes him his boy again. But all he does is put the blindfold in place again and lie still, waiting for Angel to awaken.
There is a knock at the door and Angel wakes up with a start. He pulls on a robe and pads out to the door, coming back in with a cart. Spike can hear the wheels. He nudges Spike. "Sit up, pretty. Breakfast is here." Spike obediently sits up and Angel slides in behind him.
Angel feeds him breakfast, stopping periodically to drink blood himself and feed some to Spike. He gives him coffee sip by sip, and feeds in bites of strawberry crepes and bacon and egg quiche and juicy fresh cantaloupe. Spike is surprised Angel remembers all these things that Spike loves. Spike ends up almost wallowing in his enjoyment of breakfast, making yummy noises and licking the fork and whimpering to hurry along the next bite when Angel takes too long.
Angel watches his childe with amazement at the relish with which he eats human food. He just likes being the one making him happy, making him wriggle with pleasure, even if it is for something as simple as a bite of melon. After a while he stops using the fork and feeds him by hand, letting Spike lick his fingers clean each time, loving the feel of that slightly rough tongue flicking across him like a kitten.
Then breakfast is over and Spike begins his assault in earnest. He turns around and starts kissing and rubbing and running his hands all over Angel, determined to make him give in and fuck him. He can't stand this slow teasing a minute more. He straddles his lap and runs his hard cock against Angel, rousing him to full hardness himself. Angel lets him do this for a while and then pushes him back to the bed. Spike whimpers and arches. Angel reaches down and gently takes Spike's erection in his hand and slowly and lovingly begins stroking.
"Yes, pretty, going to make it better for you, just relax and let me make it better," he whispers softly.
"Please, please just bloody well take me. I'm a whore, why won't you take me?" Spike begs, frustration evident in his face and tone.
Angel keeps stroking and considers his answer carefully. "Because you are playing at being a whore. When you stop being a whore and you really really want me, and I believe it, then I'll take you. And not a minute sooner."
Spike lays still then, letting Angel stroke him. He is so motionless, his face so miserable, that Angel wants to take back his words, to promise him anything, just to make him happy. Finally he chokes out in a tiny voice, "Can I at least sodding touch you? Like you're touching me?"
Angel nods, stupidly, and then says, "Yes. Yes you can. Sit up."
Spike sits up and runs his hand down Angel's chest, and his abs, and then down onto his cock. Spike curls long white slender fingers around Angel and Angel gasps from the contact. He moans. It had been so long since he had been touched and he had convinced himself it didn't matter, that he didn't need it. But he's hot with need now, wanting to thrust into that cool firm grip that holds him.
Now they both stroke, and moan, and gasp, and whimper, pleasuring and teasing each other, their legs tangled together. The whole world has been reduced, for each of them, to a cool hand gripping them and a firm shaft in their grip. Nothing else exists now, everything revolves around those sensations. They begin to move in sync, their strokes up and down in a lovely shared rhythm, and they can feel the other tense up and they spend almost together, crying out their pleasure as they release.
Angel pulls Spike to him and Spike clings to him, rubbing his face against Angel's. "Yes, thank you, needed that, needed you." Spike murmurs and Angel's grip tightens. The words are almost too much. He wants to rip off the mask and let Spike know who he is. He almost does it. He reaches up his hand to touch the blindfold, and then he stops. He reaches over at pushes a button on the phone.
A voice responds, "Yes?"
"Sheet change," is all Angel says, and then he scoops Spike up in his arms and carries him off to the bathroom. He sits him on a bench while he fills the bath and then lowers him in and climbs behind him. He soaps up a sponge and starts washing him off.
Spikes purrs and leans back and rubs his wet body against Angel. "This is one of my favorite things," he says. "Always has been. Love being bathed. It's like being a little boy again all over, loved and precious and cared for."
"I remember," Angel mutters before he realizes what he is saying. It's a little stab as he *does* remember. Back in the old days, how he would make William climb into the tub with him to be cleaned. He loved washing William, feeling those smooth white limbs, and William squirmed against him and cooed and giggled and purred happily. Sometimes they would have sex, but most times it was just bathing. The simple joy of being in the hot soapy water together, wet skin against wet skin.
Unknown to him, Spike is caught in the same memories. How it felt to be held and protected and treated as if he mattered. As if he were worth something. It had been so long since he felt that way. He was never secure with Dru, crazy Dru. He had loved her and cared for her but she never made him feel the simple safety and security and sense of being wanted that Angelus had managed so effortlessly. And then, of course, Dru had left him. Then there was the Slayer, who had used him as her own personal punching bag and convenient sex toy. He had spent a hundred years wanting this. To be in loving arms again. Angel was being so gentle with him. Touching him the way he used to. Spike could pretend, even if Angel didn't love him, that right now he did. That it was like it was before.
Angel finishes washing Spike and starts to scrub himself. He is surprised when Spike wriggles around and feels for his hand, taking the sponge from it and starting to wash Angel. "Let me do this for you. I want to."
Angel's throat goes tight and he can't answer, but he rests back and lets Spike scrub him.
Spike rubs the sponge over Angel, knowing every spot and every curve by memory. He is careful over the places he knows are ticklish, and he gives a little extra attention to the places that will make Angel hot. It's not long before Angel is hard and gasping despite his best efforts not to be.
"I'm not a whore now," Spike says. "I want you so sodding much. You've been so gentle, so loving.please take me. I want t'feel you inside me."
Angel wars with himself. He hadn't counted on this, so soon. Spike can still do this to him.make him desperate and wanting in a way no one else could. But he still isn't sure he believed him. Isn't sure this just isn't a trick to make him lose control and treat Spike like the whore he is playing at being. He wishes he could see Spike's eyes. Maybe then he could tell.
In the end he pushes Spike's hands away. "Not yet."
Spike sits back then, pushing to the far side of the bath. What does Angel want? Does he want him to beg? To kneel? To crawl to him and kiss his feet? He can't remember being quite this frustrated or upset or.forlorn in a long, long time. He leans his head back and to his shame he starts crying. Bawling. Like an infant. He tries to choke it back, make it stop, but it wells up in him and he cannot stop it. His body shakes. Tears flood under the blindfold.
Like a shot Angel moves across the tub, pulling Spike to him. Cradling him, soothing him, stroking him, speaking to him in hushed tones. "Shh, shh, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it, I'm sorry, please don't cry, I'll make it better." He feels terrible now. He wants Spike's love but he doesn't want to break him. He makes a decision. He reaches down and takes off the device that alters his voice and rips off the blindfold. Spike's eyes are tightly closed, tears leaking out from under the long lashes and drops hovering in them and glittering like tiny jewels. "Oh, pleeeeeease, Will, stop crying. I'll do anything if you'll just stop."
At the sound of Angel's real voice Spike's eyes fly open and those clear heartbreakingly blue eyes meet Angel's brown ones. There is a long moment where the two of them stare at each other. Spike's bawling has stopped, the shock having done what the soothing could not, but the tears still flow down his cheeks. Then Spike pushes hard, breaking Angel's hold and scrambling out of the tub. He runs out of the bathroom and Angel takes a minute to recover from his surprise to clamber out of the tub himself. He grabs two large towels and moves into the bedroom. Spike is on the far side of the room, curled into a small shivering wet heap in the corner.
At Angel's approach he looks up and hisses. "Haven't you had your fun yet, Angel? Tormented me, broken me, made me beg you enough yet?" Angel tosses him one of the towels and backs off, toweling himself dry and sitting on the bed. Spike grabs the towel and wraps it around himself. It's huge and thick and almost covers him like a blanket, huddled in on himself as he is.
"Wasn't trying to break you, Spike," Angel says softly.
"Then what *were* you trying to do, Angel?" Spike spits.
"Trying to make you love me again. Make you want me again."
Spike is shocked into complete and utter stillness at that. Time creeps by, with Spike just sitting, still as a statue. Angel is worried at this. Spike is *never* still, except for the hunt. He's always moving or fidgeting. Finally Spike moves, turning his face away from Angel. "You're a stupid bloody ponce. Never stopped loving you, or wanting you. It was you that stopped loving and wanting me."
Angel gets up to come over and Spike hears the movement and growls. "Not a step closer or I'll run."
Angel moves back to the bed, sitting back down again. "Ok. I'll stay here. But it's not true. I left for your own good. You were still evil then and I. I couldn't live with what I'd done. By the time we met again in Sunnydale you hated me, and we were mortal enemies."
"My own good? Sodding presumptuous meddling bastard. I *loved* you. You were the bleedin' center of my universe. I would 'ave gone sunbathing if you'd asked. I would 'ave understood, would 'ave changed, would 'ave done anything to keep you. But you never even bothered to tell my why you were goin'. Left me with the bitch and a madwoman to try and pick up my life with the 'eart gone out of it."
It's Angel now who looks defeated, sitting with shoulders slumped. He can see it now, the truth of Spike's words. He had been too full of self-pity then to think about anything but his own pain. It's him who sits quietly, deathly still, thinking. At length he says, "So is it too late? Is there any way to make it right with us?"
Spike looks over at Angel, at the heartbreak evident in his body and his face.
The music is still playing in the background. Spike recognizes the beginning strains of the piece just now beginning and he gets up and crosses to Angel, pulling him to his feet. He looks up into Angel's eyes.
"Shall we dance?"
Angel looks back at Spike and hope flares in his eyes. He takes Spike's hand in his and wraps his arm around his slim waist. Spike puts his other hand on Angel's shoulder. It is a waltz that is playing, and Angel may not understand modern dance but he is adept at the ancient moves of the dances of his mortal life.
He and Spike begin to dance, gliding slowly and gracefully around the room with the ease that only two people very familiar with each other can manage. They keep staring into each other's eyes, not looking at anything else, letting their other senses keep them from colliding with the walls or the furniture. They can feel it again, the bond they used to have, the ability to live in this little world that consisted of only the two of them. It's there, a palpable living thing, beating between them like a giant heart, feeding them both. It's as if no time has passed, and only different hairstyles and colors separate them from the Sire and Childe that loved each other so long ago.
The waltz finishes and the two of them stand still, staring at each other. Then Spike moves his hand to the back of Angel's neck, pulling him ever so gently towards him, and then Angel bends and kisses him, sweeping him up in his arms, carrying him towards the bed. He lays him gently on the sheets and climbs over him, covering him with his body. He stares into his eyes for the longest moment and then kisses him again, devours him, and the dam bursts. Their hands and mouths are everywhere, their bodies rubbing and touching, and all the passion and tension and heat that had been building between them is released in a furious desperate hungry grasping and sharing. And somewhere in the touching the proper preparations are made and then Angel is inside Spike, making him scream and squirm and writhe and moan, and Angel is back where he belongs. Back with the one person who has ever made him happy. Back with the one *real* love of his life.
Many hours later, when even vampiric constitutions need a break, when they lie happy and sated and twisted together in the sheets, Spike gently strokes Angel's face. "So what 'appens now?"
Angel chuckles. "We rest a bit and then we do a lot more of that."
Spike joins him in laughter and then he sobers. "No. Really."
Angel pulls Spike even closer. "Monday morning.we go back to the office and I kiss the hell out of you in front of everyone and they deal. I'm not letting you go again. I'm with you to the end of the world. And hopefully beyond."
The End