I'd rather have a four by four

The Clockwork Vampire Series XIII

Author:Spirit

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
 
 
 

Spike slugged back the whisky, sitting on the office desk as he listened to Angel in the next room. They'd rescued the waste of space that night, and Angel had spent the next few hours talking to the boy, trying to persuade him to do the right thing. Course, Angel was using his bloody human methods, and Spike was non-too impressed with the results. He could remember Angelus getting his own way. Could remember it all too clearly and he wondered why Angel didn't employ the same methods.

'Penny for them?'

He looked up and saw Wesley holding out a cup of coffee. Spike gestured to his whiskey and shook his head.

'Angel will get him to change his mind,' said Wesley.

'About testifying?'

Wesley nodded.

'I have faith in Angel. If anyone can convince him...' he broke off, looking at the office door. Then he looked back at Spike. 'You're listening in, aren't you?'

The vampire grinned.

'Yeah, and he isn't using his sweet tongue on that little sod.'

Wesley raised his eyebrows.

'And a good thing too.'

'Angel still in there?' asked Doyle, lying down on the sofa. He was covered by Wesley's coat, his face finally breaking free of the vision's painful hold. Wesley smiled and passed the coffee to the Irishman.

'I'm afraid young Mr Marquez is proving to be something of a handful.'

'Well he'd better get him to testify,' said Doyle. 'My head's still ringing now. I don't want that kid walking around and getting attacked again. This head definitely wasn't designed for more than one vision a day.'

Spike shifted on the desk, listening as Angel explained how he wasn't going to be there next time. Spike snorted to himself - next time Angel wouldn't be there...yeah, right. Once his big powerful sire had made his mind up about something he didn't quit until he'd seen it through. It wasn't of the better things he'd learned from him. He'd give it five more minutes, then Spike was going to go in and sort out the brat himself. There were far more interesting things they could be doing at this hour than babysitting a kid who wouldn't make a stand either way.

Spike thought he hated that more than anything. He'd always known what he was fighting for - his own personal survival and that of those he cared for. That had always been clear to him, and any decisions he'd made had been based on this fact. Marquez seemed to be trying out the same thing, but he didn't believe either way, and that was one of the reasons that Angel couldn't get through to him. Give him to me for five minutes, thought Spike, I'll show the little fucker which side his bread is buttered.

'Spike?'

He turned and looked at Wesley.

Since the Englishman had come out and admitted to the world that he wanted to be with Doyle, there was an air of relaxed triumph about the man. Spike had watched out for that distinct smell, but so far, no go - Doyle and Wesley hadn't progressed that far down the line yet. There was sexual tension in the air, most of it usually coming from Xander, but above that, was the distinct musky smell that the mutt and Weasly were emitting. He wondered if they were hanging on for a rainy day, or if they needed some pointers.

Better make your own entertainment, he grinned to himself.

'So,' said Spike, 'How come you two haven't been having sex?'

Wesley blushed and turned away, hurriedly busying himself with finding the files for the case. Doyle shook his head and pulled the coat back up, closing his eyes and ignoring the vampire.

Spike didn't like being ignored.

'Oy, come on,' said the vampire. 'Tell your uncle Spike.'

'None of your business,' said Wesley, trying to assume an air of superiority.

'Nothing else happening around here,' said Spike, 'Least you can do is entertain me.'

Wesley stared at him and tapped the desk Spike was sitting on.

'What do you want? A full demonstration on here?'

Spike grinned and rocked his hips on the wood.

'Why not, Pet? Worked for me and Peaches.'

Wesley took his hand off quickly and wiped it on his pants.

'You really are quite...'

'Addictive?' said Spike, leaning back and shooting the dirtiest look he could at the ex-watcher.

'Without common decency,' said Wesley, 'Though why I'm expecting any of that from you is quite beyond me.'

'I can be decent,' said Spike, sitting back up, 'Just don't see the bloody point.'

'The point is that decent people do not ask whether or not you've had sex every five minutes.'

Spike winked at Wesley.

'Every five minutes? Well I know vampire have quick recovery times, but every five minutes...no wonder the mutt can't walk.'

Wesley rolled his eyes and moved to Angel's door.

'I'm just going to give Angel this. I don't expect you to annoy Doyle whilst I'm gone.'

Spike shrugged.

'What am I going to do? Nuzzle him to death?'

He looked at the snoozing half demon.

'Actually, that's not a bad...'

'Spike,' said Angel, opening the door and squashing Wesley in the process. 'Can I have a word?'

'Sure,' said Spike, hopping off the table. 'I'll leave Weasly to shag Doyle on the desk.'

Angel looked confused for a second, then pulled the door back from Wesley. As the blond vampire walked into the office, he pinched Wesley cheerfully on the ass and brushed past his lover. Ignoring the stirring Spike always caused, Angel closed the door behind them both.

Marquez sat sulkily in Angel's 'client-chair'. From what Spike had heard, Angel's protestations that he had to do his duty, that if he didn't testify he was going to die, had all gone unheard. This was a kid who looked out for number one and said the rest of the world could go to Hell. Now where had Spike heard that before?

As it was, Angel was having far less effect on the boy than he'd hoped. The Powers that Fuck about obviously had some purpose for the lad though, and if Angel had brought in Spike, then the vampire knew things were getting pretty desperate.

'Marquez,' said Angel, 'You remember Spike?'

The boy nodded.

'Sure, you're the guy who ripped that ugly guy's arms off.'

Spike grinned, happy to find someone who appreciated his work.

'Like the tactic?'

Marquez looked at him, confused.

Spike leaned forward.

'Cause I'd be more than happy to demonstrate how I did it again, Pet.'

The boy shuddered; Spike's reasonable tone never changing as he described in detail what he'd do to anyone who didn't play the game. Where Angel's threats had shown another way, Spike merely concentrated on what would happen if he didn't testify - how long it takes someone to sever every limb and how easily he could disappear from his world with no friends left to look out for him. It was essentially the same thing that Angel had said, only without the comforting words.

'So what would happen if I do testify?' said Marquez, 'They'd still kill me.'

Angel shook his head.

'They need you,' said Angel, 'The prosecutors need you too much to let anyone get to you. After it's all over, you'll be free.'

'Yeah, right,' said Marquez, spinning his chair away from these two men.

Spike spun him back.

'Look at it this way, Pet. You got to make a stand some time in your life. Best do it whilst I'm in your court.'

'Is that a threat?' asked Marquez.

Spike looked up at Angel, who shrugged. He turned back to the boy.

'Yeah, it's a threat.'

Angel leaned down.

'Don't you want to do the right thing, just once?'

Marquez felt the intensity between these two men. He doubted he was going to get out of the room any other way. There was no one else he could turn to now, and whilst the idea of doing the right thing was way off base, he had no doubt that Spike would get him if he fouled up.

'Okay,' he nodded, 'I'm game.'
 

*
 

'You're grumpy,' said Spike.

Angel slammed the door on the microwave shut and raised his eyes briefly to Spike.

'I'm not grumpy.'

'Bollocks, you aren't,' said Spike amiably. 'We won the bloody case, remember.'

Angel nodded, not meeting his childe's eyes.

'So why are you acting like we lost the war?'

Angel looked at Spike, seeing genuine confusion in his childe's eyes. They had seen so much together, made allowances and decided what was truly important, but had either of them really changed? Had Spike become less of a predator just because his teeth were capped? Did Angel honestly believe that given the opportunity, Spike wouldn't kill again?

There had been the issue with Rebecca, a time when Spike had had the opportunity to kill, and hadn't. But Angel understood his reasoning for that, none of which had come from valuing a human life. What had happened was simple - Spike had chosen his love for Angel over his need for the kill. He hadn't changed at all, thought Angel sadly, if I wasn't here, if he had his bite, he'd kill them all.

No questions asked.

'Pet?' asked Spike, laying a hand on Angel's arm, 'You're looking unnaturally broody. Gonna spill?'

Angel sighed and raised his eyes to those of his childe. He loved him, but he didn't trust him, not completely. And he'd never know if he could unless they took that chip away. And if he took that risk...there was a chance he'd have to...have to...

'Angel?'

'Would you kill again?' said Angel quickly, before he lost the willpower to say it.

'What?' asked Spike, pulling away from the vampire and retrieving his blood from the microwave.

'If we could cure you, get that chip taken out,' said Angel, 'would you kill again?'

Spike put both mugs down on the table and sat down carefully, keeping his eye on Angel. He's been thinking about this a lot, thought the vampire, it's why he keeps looking at me like that.

'I'm a vampire, Pet,' he said slowly, 'It's supposed to be what we do.'

Angel nodded and picked up his drink.

'So you would, then.'

Spike sipped the blood. It was warm and it sated his need for the moment, but it didn't have the thrill behind it, the power and pleasure that came from the kill. They could survive on it, even feel fat and happy on it, but there were no addictive highs from drinking pig's blood.

And Angel knew that.

Of the two of them, Angel had made the choice to live without killing, or at least, without killing for pleasure. Spike still did so, choosing his demonic victims for their satisfactory deaths. He had chosen the strong and powerful, taking each life as he had once fed on humans, taking pleasure from that last look, from the knowledge that Spike was not only better, but also more powerful than they. It was a substitute of sorts.

He could live that way, taking his natural violent streak and breaking it against LA's resident demons. It was his concession to Angel's do-good instinct. He was an animal, and enjoyed the rights of that animal. That his character had passed to his demon state almost untouched was a mystery that he never cared to solve. He loved with passion and his unbeating heart, but he didn't know what Angel wanted to hear.

'I didn't kill that actress tart,' said Spike. 'And I could have done.'

'I know,' said Angel, staring at his mug. 'Why didn't you?'

'Because of you,' said Spike simply.

Angel looked at him then.

'I'm the reason you won't kill.'

Spike stared at him a moment before running his fingers over Angel's hand.

'You're the reason I live,' he said softly.

Angel shook his head.

'But you don't live,' he said sadly, 'Do you?'

He stood up and moved to the bedroom.

'And that's my responsibility.'

Spike got up, shaking his head.

'Bollocks, Pet.' He stepped closer to the vampire. 'Dru made me, not you.'

Angel nodded.

'And I made her. You're my...'

'Problem?' said Spike, a snarl barely audible in his voice. Angel caught it though. 'Is that what you were gonna say? I'm your problem?'

Angel moved to stroke the side of his childe's face.

'I love you, and you know that.'

Spike nodded.

'Yeah, and you know the feelings mutual.'

He reached for the vampire and felt Angel stiff, resistant.

'What's brought all this on, Pet? Cause I wasn't painting roses for the brat?'

Angel shook his head.

'Because he didn't matter to you.'

Spike stepped back, his hand falling away from Angel.

'I can't change what I am,' he said, scratching along his lip with his thumbnail. 'I'm not the one with the bloody soul.'

Angel stared at him.

'You think He would love you the way I do?'

'No,' said Spike, 'Angelus hated that I'd become your pet. And that's all I bloody am, isn't it?'

'You're not that,' said Angel.

'No, I see,' said Spike, backing out, picking up his coat. 'I'm less than that. Angelus was right, wasn't he? I'm all you can fucking have.'

He slammed the door shut as he went out the basement, leaving Angel alone in the apartment. The vampire closed his eyes as he thought about what he had to do. He couldn't let his childe kill, but he didn't want him just to stay just because he was caged. He had to reverse what the Initiative had done and give Spike back his freedom. Then he'd know.

Then he'd know for certain.

But Spike was wrong about one thing.

In the coming darkness, Angel opened his eyes.

'You're all I ever want.'
 

*
 

Spike stood in the basement for a moment whilst he pulled himself together. He wasn't entirely sure how it had come to this. Why in Hell had he walked out on the only man he gave a shit about? Had this been brewing for a while? Could he have avoided it?

Did he want back in?

He snorted to himself at that last part. Of course he wanted back in, and not just because Angel was the only vampire who'd support him. It was more than that. He loved the bastard after all. Both of them - they'd taken time, let down defences and finally, gratefully, succumbed to an overwhelming passion.

It would be easy to stand here in the dark and just accept that, that he and Angel were just creatures of habit, returning to one another as the sole survivors of a battle in which they had a small part. It would be easy, but untrue. Spike had returned to Angel because he was home, because he was the only place left that Spike could feel secure, but that wasn't why he'd stayed. He'd come because of Angelus, stayed because of Angel.

Everything else was wallpaper.

Wonderful dark wallpaper where he and Angel carved out desire and need in every moment. They lived, loved and moved within this twilight world they'd created, coming into contact with creatures of day. And he had, (Spike admitted to himself here in the basement) he had changed. They both had. For the most part, Angel was no longer the lonely brooder he had once been. Sure, he had his moments, and hey, wasn't today a prime example of that? But Angel knew love again, unrestricted and requited, no terms and conditions on its getting.

Or was there?

In the last few weeks, since the time Doyle and Cordelia had split up, since Angelus had come, Spike had been getting the feeling that Angel was distracted. He'd thought originally that it was because Angelus still held some appeal for Spike, but they'd gone past that, or so he thought. Angel knew it was the souled up, grieving, warrior of bloody virtue that his childe wanted, and so did Angelus now. He'd been able to admit he loved him in word, something he did so rarely that its very presence was a landmark.

But Angel had mentioned the possibility of a chipless Spike once or twice now, and the younger vampire wondered why. With the chip, he was unable to hurt the humans Angel swore to protect - surely the state Angel wanted him in. was he so caught up in redemption that he wanted it for more than just himself? On the day of judgement, did he want Spike next to him, redeemed and pure once more? And that was a laugh, wasn't it, because human Will had never been any kind of angel.

If he was right, and Spike guessed that he was, Angel wanted to take away the inhibitor chip and give him back his freedom. But this wasn't access all areas, Angel wanted him to be free from the Initiative, free to choose, but the path Angel wanted him to take wasn't that of a vampire. He wanted him to go against decades of vampire lore and protect the creatures who would be his food.

Could he do it?

More importantly, did he want to do it?

Spike took his cigarettes out and started walking out of the dark basement.

It came down to a really simple choice, Spike thought as he lit up, breathing in a good lungful of smoke. Go back to his vampire ways, or move forward with Angel, swearing off a la carte human for all eternity. Was life with the pouf good enough to compensate for that?

Was the kill thrilling enough to make up for the loss of his love?

'Hey, Blondy.'

Spike growled and turned, annoyed that he hadn't sensed anybody about before. Annoyed that he hadn't been paying enough attention. In the corner of the car park, walking toward him was a girl, slight, but with an air of hidden strength about her.

'And what do you want, little girl? Selling Girl Scout cookies?'

She grinned at him and Spike felt slightly uncomfortable in spite of himself.

'You're Spike, right?'

He shrugged nonchalantly, his entire body tensing against his will. There was something just a bit too confident about this one - an air of brutality and of knowing. He could feel the power coming off her, knowing it, remembering how it could feel to be the one in charge all the time. Spike didn't like it coming off anyone else.

'Yeah, I'm Spike, what about it?'

She grinned again, wolf-like, and he registered his body was on the point of fleeing. But why? She wasn't the bloody Slayer, and that was the last (and only) time this kind of instinct had kicked in. He wasn't so long lived by ignoring these feelings, but he was damned if he didn't find out why.

'I just wanted to make sure I had the right guy.'

She gave him an appraising look, taking in his lean frame and a wiry strength that matched her own. Spike was used to such scrutiny, but it had always been to his advantage.

Now he was not so sure.

'Look Pet,' he said, 'We going to play guessing games all night, or are you going to tell me what's going on before I rip your throat out?'

She laughed then, actually laughed and Spike felt his vampiric features settle on his face. Disquieting to say the least.

'Well Spike,' she said, moving forward, her hands still tucked behind her back like a naughty schoolgirl, 'I don't think you'll be doing anything to me. Heard you're kind of...incapable lately.'

Spike growled.

'Watch it Precious, you're beginning to get on my wick.'

'You wish,' she said, edging slightly closer. 'I think that's something I'd rather enjoy.'

She showed no fear, and Spike, determined not to step away, was worried about the fear he could smell. Nothing scared him, nothing. But this one was...different.

'Who are you?' he asked as she got really close.

She smiled again and started to pull her hands round.

'An old friend,' she said, hurling a stake at him.

Spike dodged it easily and spun around, seeing where it had gone. In the time it took him to turn back to her, she had launched a dart from a crossbow at him. It sank deep in his shoulder and Spike groaned at the immediate pain.

'Ow,' he yelled, 'That wasn't very bloody friendly.'

But she was already walking off, a swing in her step and the crossbow slung casually over her shoulder.

'Tell Angel, Faith says hi,' she said as she walked away.

'Faith?' he said, surprised at the whisper in his voice.

'Yeah,' said Faith, turning back just in time to watch the vampire collapse. 'He'll know how to what to do. He's been here before.'

Spike closed his eyes as he watched her heels click out of the building. Something was wrong, something was very wrong and he didn't know what. He couldn't even move now and the heat coming from his shoulder was spreading.

He needed...he needed what he always needed, what he would always need.

'Angel,' he groaned, willing his lover close as the pain took his strength.
 

<Bonded in blood and in dark, we walk the night as one>
 

*
 

'Angel?'

Angel sat up quickly from the desk, wondering when he'd fallen asleep. He looked around quickly, seeing Cordelia standing above him, concern in her face.

'You okay? Cause you look kind of...very...dead.'

She rolled her eyes and tried to think of a way of rephrasing that sentence.

'Which is okay for you, I suppose. Where's your joined-at-the-hip twin?'

Angel sat back and rubbed his eyes. He did feel tired, after having spent most of the night trying to work out how to deal with the Initiative and free Spike. He'd wanted to go to bed, but it felt strange sleeping in it alone, and, since Spike showed no signs of turning up, he'd come back to the office, grabbed a book and tried to read. He hadn't managed to read more than a sentence without his mind straying back to his errant lover. Eventually, worn out, he'd slept, to be woken up by Cordelia, Spike still missing.

'I'm fine, Cordelia,' said Angel. 'Spike's...out.'

She smiled and moved to the mugs by the percolator.

'You two had a fight, huh?'

'We didn't fight,' said Angel automatically.

He sighed.

'When Doyle told you he was, er...'

'Gay,' she said easily. 'Yeah?'

Angel swallowed, unusually grateful for her bluntness.

'Did you feel that you didn't know him anymore?'

She stared at him a minute, confused.

'Spike's really straight? He's got a girlfriend?'

'What? No, no! That's not what I meant.'

She poured out the coffee and brought it over to the desk.

'Then I don't get it, what do you mean?'

Angel accepted the mug and sipped at it. Either Cordelia was getting better at this or someone else had made the coffee.

'I meant,' he tried to say casually, 'That when you found out Doyle wasn't what you thought, did you feel everything about him was different?'

She sipped at her drink and tapped her fingers along the desk.

'What's going on, Angel? You and Spike never fight, not really, anyway.'

He looked at her then, wondering when she'd become so grown-up, a step beyond the prom Queen he'd first known. Life in LA had hardened her more than losing her father's fortune had managed. She'd gone through a lot, and he hadn't heard her moan about any of it, not in a genuine way, at least. Sure, she bitched about his relationship with Spike, and kept dropping not so subtle hints that she could really use a raise, but the girl had experienced parts of life that no one really should, and she was still here, still fighting. Cordelia was a survivor.

Like him.

'I've been thinking about taking Spike back to Sunnydale.'

'Why?'

Angel sipped at the coffee again. Damn, this stuff tasted good.

'To get that chip out of his head.'

She raised her eyebrows at him.

'So he can kill again?'

'So he can make his own choices.'

'Oh really,' said Cordelia, 'And what about us? Do we just get to choose to die when you let your lover loose?'

'If he tried to kill, I'll stake him myself,' said Angel, hiding every trace of the fear in his voice.

'When? After he drains me dry?'

Angel looked at her and saw the real fear in her face. If they feared Angelus because of his cruelty, they were scared of Spike because of his violence. What right did he have to release a monster on the world?

And there lay the problem - Angel didn't think Spike was a monster.

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I shouldn't have mentioned it.'

'Oh? So you were just going to do it and let us all find out afterwards?'

'No,' said Angel. He looked up at her. 'I'd never let anything hurt any of you.'

'But you want to let Spike's bitey side out,' said Cordelia, 'that doesn't exactly fill me with confidence, Angel.'

'Do you think he's changed?'

She paused a minute at the gravity of Angel's voice. People often mistook her tactlessness for a lack of compassion, and they'd be surprised to know she cared. She just didn't wear her heart on her sleeve like some big vampire types she could mention. He was serious about asking her opinion, and Angel obviously wasn't going to turn Spike loose because he was bored, or because it would add a whole new dimension to their sex life.

She nodded.

'Yeah, I think he's changed - a bit, anyway.'

'How?

Cordelia took a deep breath.

'Well, I don't think we'd be on the first lunch menu. If he doesn't like us exactly, I think he does consider us his...'

'Family?' asked Angel, looking for confirmation.

'Well I was going to say possessions,' said Cordelia, 'but if it makes you feel any better, go for it.'

'You think he'd kill?'

She drank the last of the coffee and met Angel's intense gaze.

'I think he'd want to,' she said.

Angel nodded and went to leave the office.

'But Angel?'

He paused by the door.

'What?'

She took another deep breath.

'I don't think he would.'

Angel's shoulder's sagged, tenseness slipping away that he hadn't realised he had.

'Thanks Cordelia.'
 

*
 

'We're looking for Spike?'

Xander followed Wesley down to the basement car park, feeling slightly strange about the way everyone had started to worry about the blond vampire. Angel he could understand, but the big dark brooding one hadn't been the only one upset that Spike was missing. Was Spike really that well liked around here?

'Shake a leg, Xander,' said Wesley getting Angel's car keys out. 'We want to find him before tomorrow.'

'What happens tomorrow?' asked Xander.

Wesley paused and turned around.

'I just meant...get a move on.'

'Oh,' said the boy, following the Englishman out of the door. 'You could have just said that.'

Wesley looked back at him a moment before shaking his head. Sometimes he didn't understand how Xander had failed to be Vampire food. The boy must have some guardian Angel, or at the very least, a charmed life.

'So...how come we're looking for him. He's only been gone a day and last I knew, Spike's a big boy, can take care of himself.'

'Spike's a,' Wesley paused a moment, then got the word out, 'He's a friend, and Angel's worried about him.'

'He's your buddy? Said Xander incredulously.

Wesley whirled on him.

'And what is so wrong with that?'

Xander just looked at him.

'Aside from the fact that he's a vampire and you're a watcher, you mean?'

Wesley set his jaw.

'I'm no longer a watcher, and for all intents and purposes, Spike is no longer a vampire.'

'Heard...That...wanker'

Wesley turned at the faint voice.

'Spike?'

Xander stepped closer to the Englishman.

'You're getting all nervy on me, aren't you?'

'Shut up,' snapped Wesley. He walked round the side of Angel's car. 'Oh God.'

Xander tried to get closer, but Wesley turned back to him.

'Get Angel, quickly.'

'What is it?'

'Just go!'

Xander blinked at this unexpected aggression, turned on his heel and ran back inside to find the vampire. Wesley didn't even notice him go - he was too busy removing his jacket and wrapping it round the prone body on the floor. Spike was clammy, hot to the touch and Wesley didn't like that at all. If he'd been down here since he left Angel alone last night...oh God.

'Spike?'

The blond vampire twitched in his arms, but he didn't open his eyes.

'Spike? It's Wesley. Can you tell me what happened?'

Spike ran his tongue over his teeth, trying to moisten his mouth.

'Faith says...hi.'

A cold hand of dread gripping his heart, Wesley tore open Spike's shirt where the dart still remained. The skin around it was purpling; veins that had long since failed to pump living blood round his body were busy carrying the rare poison into all Spike's systems.

'Oh Lord,' said Wesley.

'Bad, huh?' asked Spike slowly.

Resisting the urge to stroke the fevered forehead, Wesley wrenched the dart from Spike's shoulder. The vampire let out an ungodly scream and blacked out. He feels so light, the demon-hunter thought, he's so strong, but he doesn't weigh all that much.

Angel came charging out of the doorway and over to them both.

'Will?' he said before Wesley could say anything. 'Will?'

'Angel,' said Wesley carefully, 'I think he's been poisoned.'

Angel picked the vampire out of Wesley's arms and started carrying him inside.

'Who did this?' he asked coldly and Wesley chilled at the tone.

'He wasn't really conscious, but,' he paused as he thought through the implications, 'He mentioned Faith.'

Angel didn't break his stride, but Wesley saw him flinch at the girl's name.

'I thought she was in a coma?'

Wesley nodded, struggling to keep up Angel's pace.

'I'll phone Mr Giles. See what I can find out.'

Angel lay Spike gently down on the bed, his gaze never straying from Spike's sweat covered face. He sat on the bed a moment, stroking his hand down the side of his lover's face. Wesley felt like an intruder, but he had to ask.

'Angel, I realise that this may not be a very good time, but if this is the same poison she used on you...?'

'Then I need a Slayer's blood to cure him,' said Angel. He closed his eyes a second as the irony came to him. 'He can't even bite.'

Wesley hung his head.

'I'm sorry Angel. I'll leave you two alone.'

Angel shook his head and turned around.

'No!'

'No?' asked Wesley, not following.

Angel pulled the covers up over his lover.

'I need you, all of you to make this right. Phone Giles; find out what you can. Get everyone else looking for another cure.'

'Okay,' nodded Wesley. 'What are you going to do?'

Angel kissed Spike's forehead gently and walked to the door.

'I'm going to get my boy a drink.'
 

*
 

Faith was enjoying LA.

So far, it had provided her with money, a place to stay, a job she liked and a promise that all charges would be dropped. Not bad for forty-eight hours in a city.

She wondered if the poisoned dart had been a bit cliché - she'd done it before and last time she gathered that Buffy had offered her own blood to save the hunk of stuff who called himself Angel. It hadn't exactly worked, and she'd got a knife in the gut because of it. Still, the Spike guy didn't look all that happy when she left him and nothing says I miss you like killing off your lover.

She grinned as she imagined Angel's face, that automatically brooding forehead overcome with even more pain and anguish than usual. God, what a waste of a man, although, from what she'd heard, William the Bloody had been one hot lay in his time. She wondered if Buffy knew her precious Angel was swinging both ways these days.

Wondered if she should do the honourable thing and tell her.

Well, there was always time later.

She checked her watch for the time and strolled up the stairs to the door of Angel Investigations. Pretty cute that - Angel was trying his hand at being a PI. Not a bad thing for a vampire to do, she guessed, as long as there weren't too many day cases. Still, wasn't that why she was here now?

Pushing open the door, Faith stepped into the slightly dusty atmosphere of the office, pleased by the long line of light that separated one half from the other.

Stepping over to the desk, she wondered if she'd have to ring for service before anyone knew she was here. Old Angel seemed to be losing his touch.

You'd think there was something on his mind.

'Good Morning,' came Cordelia's tired voice as she entered the office. 'Here at Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless.'

'Good for you, girl,' said Faith brightly, noticing the bags under Cordelia's eyes. 'Looking a little rough, Prom Queen, Angel keeping you up all night?'

'Faith?' Cordelia blinked.

Faith grinned; it was nice to be recognised.

'Glad you remember me sweetheart. It's been a long time and I thought, since you and I have both had Xander, isn't it time we put that doggy to bed?'

'What?' said Cordelia. 'What are you talking about?'

'Angel about?' asked Faith stepping closer. 'Cause I wanted, you know, to say hi and all.'

'He's not here,' said Cordelia, aware she was edging back toward the door.

'All alone?' smiled Faith, licking her lips. 'Gee, sweet, I'd have thought there'd be some big bodyguard around you these days.'

'Get away,' said Cordelia, trying hard to keep down the tremble in her voice. 'I'm not alone.'

'No?' asked Faith, brushing away the strand from Cordelia's forehead. 'And I was told you were all by yourself these days. No money.'

She stroked the hair behind Cordelia's ear.

'No friends.'

Faith smiled at the girl.

'Nobody to care.'

Cordelia raised her eyebrows.

'That's not me, Psycho girl, that's you.'

'Really?' said Faith, 'Cause you're looking pretty lonely right now, Princess.'

She withdrew a short blade from her sleeve and held it up to Cordelia's chin.

'Why don't we work on that "where's Angel" question, again?'

As Cordelia closed her eyes, she heard footsteps on the stairs and hope came back briefly.

'I can't find anything, ' said Xander, an apple in his hand. 'It's not like we haven't looked before, but will Wesley take that?'

Faith stepped back and greeted her onetime lover with a smile. The blade didn't shift from Cordelia's throat though.

'Hey Xander. Good to see you again.'

The apple stopped part way to Xander's mouth. He took in the situation before him and made a quick decision.

'Faith,' he said curtly, 'You going to let her go?'

She smiled and Xander wondered how he had ever let that woman anywhere near his naked body. She was as sexy as hell, a rampant tigress, but like the animal, she could turn on you at any minute and devour you whole.

'Well, I don't know Xander,' she stressed, 'Isn't she just the cutest when she's scared?'

'I'm not scared,' said Cordelia.

'Can it, Princess,' said Faith, 'I can smell it from here. You're just aching for lover-boy here to save you, aren't you?'

She flicked the blade against Cordelia's throat, a thin line of blood appearing where the knife passed.

'Knock it off Faith,' said Xander.

'Why?' grinned the Slayer. 'Just what are you going to do about it? Offer me that pasty body of yours again?'

'His body is not pasty,' said Cordelia.

Faith turned and looked at her.

'At least you don't pretend to be as sweet as old Buffy. Umm, what other stuff did you two kids get up to?'

As she turned to Cordelia, Xander threw the apple at the Slayer. She turned to catch it, but in doing so, moved the knife away from Cordelia's throat. The girl dipped under Faith's arm and ran to the stairs.

'Don't suppose you brought any of the weapons up,' she whispered to Xander.

'No,' mumbled Xander, 'I wasn't expecting Faith issues.'

'Well we got them.'

Faith laughed and pulled out a revolver from her pocket.

'You know, you two look so sweet together, it's a real shame that I'm gonna have to...'

She tossed the gun over to Xander and he caught it awkwardly.

'You're giving me a weapon?'

Faith shrugged.

'I really don't feel like Angel's in the game here. I mean, he really needs to find me so he can cure his pet vampire and look - left you two all defenceless.'

She shook her head pityingly.

'I just don't feel right about it.'

She threw both her arms out.

'Tell you what, why don't you shoot me now?'

Xander stared at her. Had she really lost her mind? He would swear that back when he and she had got together she was selfish, but sane. Had being with the Mayor so long done this to her?

He lowered the gun and shook his head.

'Come on!' she shouted. 'You can do it. Or am I going to have to use it on your Prom Queen first?'

She made to grab Cordelia and Xander fired the gun at her hip, watching in disbelief as no bullet hole appeared. Faith just grinned at him and grabbed the gun back.

'So you do have a set after all.'

She shrugged.

'So I guess, you can tell Angel I was here.'

'He's going to find you,' said Cordelia, 'and he will take you down.'

Faith just shrugged again and moved to the door.

'Nah, see I'm getting paid to kill him, and I'm the Slayer, special powers and all. Only reason I'm giving him a shot is to make it interesting.'

She opened the door.

'Oh and Xander?'

He glared at her.

'Don't play with guns if you can't shoot straight.'

She lifted her arm and fired a clear shot into Xander's belly.

'Gosh, that one wasn't a blank. Later, guys.'

As Xander crumpled on the stairs, Cordelia caught him and Faith crashed through the window. Xander groaned, the pain intense but strangely leaving his mind clear. And, as Wesley came up the stairs, the crash having finally got his attention, Xander felt protected. Which was kind of funny considering he was bleeding out in Cordelia's lap, and she was crying so hard. As the ambulance came and took him away, she stayed with him, and throughout the clear pain; the shock of being shot; being patched up by the medics, Cordelia was with him.

And she didn't look like she was going away any time soon.
 

*
 

Wesley ran his sweaty hand over his forehead.

He'd been through every book he could find, every known tome on toxins and he couldn't find another cure. Spike was growing weaker almost by the minute and he couldn't get hold of the one thing that would cure him. And even if they brought Faith close enough, the chip in Spike's head wouldn't let him bite.

He sat by Angel's bed, watching the vampire, mopping Spike's brow when it seemed to get too hot, just being close.

Watching.

Doyle came back in the room.

'Xander's gonna be fine.'

Wesley nodded, but didn't turn to look at him.

'Angel will find her, you know that don't you, man?'

Wesley nodded and Doyle sat down next to him, wrapping his arm over the Englishman's shoulders. Grateful for the comfort, Wesley leaned back into Doyle's arms and felt the solid warmth of his body.

'When Angel...when this happened to him, I wasn't much help. I bumbled, I stuttered.'

'You're different now,' said Doyle reassuringly.

Wesley shook his head.

'That's just it. I didn't care all that much whether the vampire lived or died. I was just trying to help the Slayer. If Angel had died, I wouldn't have grieved, I would have thought him an inconvenience, finally away from Buffy.'

Doyle nodded.

'I know, man, I know.'

'No, you don't see. I don't want Spike to die and still...I can't do anything.'

'Angel?'

They turned as Spike reached blindly for his lover.

'Angel's not here, Spike. He's going to get the cure.'

'Angel, ' said Spike as though he hadn't heard, 'I'm a silly fucker.'

Doyle exchanged a look with Wesley and the Englishman nodded - Phone Angel again, see how he was doing. Wesley got up and walked out of the room, the mobile number finally used after all this time.

'Pet,' said Spike, stopping and starting his speech at irregular intervals, 'Sometimes...I'm just as big a wanker as you. Killing's all right. It's a good crack if you do it right.'

'Spike,' said Doyle slowly, 'It's Doyle, Angel's not here.'

'But I can do without.'

Doyle flinched. The most violent vampire he'd personally met was saying he'd give up killing. Doyle didn't know he'd started again. Better listen.

'Cause the one thing, most important...always you, Pet.'

He smiled and stopped straining to sit up.

'Always loved you, Peaches.'

He tried to stretch his hand out, catching Doyle's arm instead. The half demon felt the heat coming out from under its thin elegant fingers.

'Mine,' Spike managed, and fell back into a troubled sleep.

Wesley walked back in the room, noticing Spike's outstretched arm and Doyle's now troubled expression. Doyle looked up at him and Wesley nodded.

'He's coming back now. Seems to think Faith will try again here.'

Doyle nodded.

'Doesn't exactly fill me with confidence.'

Wesley pulled the crossbow from behind his back.

'Now that helps a little,' admitted Doyle.

'No one gets close to Spike,' said Wesley, 'or you,' he added with a smile.

'Protecting a vampire?' asked a new voice, 'Now why would a watcher be doing that?'

They turned to look at the stairway.

Wesley was the first to catch his voice.

'Hello Buffy.'
 

*
 

Angel entered the building as the dusk closed in. He'd spent all day following the tunnels, finding crime scenes with a Faith hallmark. So far he'd found more than he was really comfortable with. Not that comfortable was anywhere near how he felt at the moment.

God, what was he going to do?

He'd been running around, trying to find Faith, trying to bring her back to Spike, to cure him, as Buffy had once done for Angel.

He couldn't see Faith being as willing.

Even in the cold hours of the night when Spike had slept and left Angel to his thoughts, he had never believed that losing Spike this way was a possibility. Sure, he'd gone over and over the potential consequences of removing the chip from his wayward child. He'd agonised over the decision, wondering if he was just doing it for himself - proving to the dark vampire for all time, that Spike was with him for more than just a regular meal.

It even felt stupid to talk about.

Even Cordelia had noticed that Spike had changed, and for her to actually notice made it significant. But he didn't really need her to tell him that Spike prioritised his needs. And Angel knew, or hoped he knew that he came higher on the list than getting a good kill in and human blood.

Not that any of that was of any use right now.

Not when Spike was lying in his bed, poisoned, dying?

What was it going to take to get Spike back to health? Angel didn't allow himself to believe, even for a second that he'd lose him. That was just not going to happen. For a man so used to being a pessimist, Angel found himself focussing on the positive. It almost felt as though he was adopting Spike's optimism whilst the younger vampire was...okay, find Faith.

Wesley had told him about her recent little trip to the office and, if she could do it once, she could do it again. Certainly stood a better chance of him finding her than just trying to follow these stupid leads that didn't take him...

'Angel?'

...anywhere.

'Kate,' said Angel curtly as he saw the police officer's already scowling face.

Before he'd been forced into revealing he was a vampire, or at least, that vampires do exist and he was part of that world, he and Kate had formed a decent alliance. He wouldn't call them friends exactly. Neither was all that good at trusting, and he'd heard that her father had been killed by a couple of his kind. Not him, or anyone he knew, but his kind.

Obviously, stereotyping was an issue with the woman.

'So,' said Kate, 'You don't call, you don't write - might think you were avoiding me because of something.'

Angel saw how easily she was settling in for a long argument and shook his head.

'I don't have time for this,' he said, walking past her.

She grabbed his arm.

'I don't think you're leaving. I've heard reports from several crime scenes this evening about a tall, dark stranger. Course, they leave out the V word, but not everyone's as educated as me.'

Angel pulled his hand free.

'I know who you're looking for,' he admitted, 'but this is personal. I'll take care of it.'

She raised her eyebrows at him.

'Just where do you get off?'

He sighed.

'Kate, you want to rant and rave at me for what someone else did to your father that's fine, but you're going to have to do it some other time.'

'No, you don't get it do you? This isn't some evil thing that we can't handle, it's a girl, doing bad things, and that's my territory.'

Angel stared at her a minute and understood. It was his own fault, really. He'd brought her into a world where everything wasn't as black and white as she wanted it to be. The only thing that mattered to her had been taken away and this was the only way she could deal with it.

It sucked, majorly sucked, but he wasn't responsible for her any more.

She wasn't family.

'Kate, I'm sorry about your father, but it wasn't my fault. Now I'm gonna find her, and I will take her down, but you really shouldn't get involved.'

'Is that a threat?'

Angel shook his head.

'It's a promise,' said Angel. 'You can't handle her.'

'And you can?' she asked. 'Big Brave Angel comes to save the day?'

He walked off then; ignoring her calls, ignoring the fact that he'd ever liked her. Because she was wrong - again. Because she'd never be right.

Because it wasn't the day he wanted to save.
 

*
 

Buffy walked down the stairs slowly, taking in the scene.

'So,' she said, 'I'm guessing there's a good reason behind this.'

'Buffy,' began Wesley, but she held up her hand.

'I'm thinking, Spike has some top secret information and you're all tucking him up in bed to keep him snug and warm whilst he remembers it.'

'Buffy,' repeated Wesley, 'There's a lot about this you don't understand.'

'Got that right,' said the Slayer, walking towards Angel's bedroom. 'I come here because I hear Faith's out to kill Angel, and I find you two standing guard over...Spike.'

She shook her head.

'Forgive me for not getting it.'

Doyle frowned.

'Xander never said anything to you?'

'About when he was here? No. He said it was safer in Sunnydale, but he didn't say why.'

She half smiled.

'Didn't guess it was because you were taking in stray vampires.'

Wesley exchanged a quick look with Doyle. Was it really their job to tell Buffy what Spike meant to Angel? Or should they just prevent her from attacking him? With Faith on the loose, and Angel due home at any moment, they might be as well try her with a delaying tactic.

'Xander's in the hospital,' said Wesley, 'Faith shot him.'

'Xander's here as well?' said Buffy. 'Is there anyone I know who's not in LA?'

She stepped forward, and the men instinctively stepped in her way, blocking her path to Spike. Buffy looked from one to the other, recognising the protection, baffled as to where it came from.

'This is Spike, right? I mean, we're not in some Twilight zone twin thing?'

Wesley nodded.

'He's been injured, he might,' he sighed, 'He might die.'

'Die again?' mused Buffy, 'Pretty good going for a dead person.'

'Look Buffy,' said Doyle nervously, 'You and I don't exactly know one another, but Spike there isn't your problem.'

'He's a vampire,' said Buffy, 'and I'm the Slayer. That kind of makes him my problem.'

'Stop being facetious,' said Wesley, 'Doyle's right. With Faith on the loose, a poisoned vampire really isn't the issue here.'

'It's him being here that I have the problem with.'

'Spike's been defanged,' said Doyle, 'By one of your lot - them Initiative people.'

'They're not my people,' said Buffy automatically, 'He's a part of their program?'

'Can't bite, can't harm, can't threaten any human, except with his tongue,' added Wesley.

Buffy laughed, but she still seemed dazed. This hadn't been the easiest of weeks.

'So Angel is opening a home for ex-vampires.'

And again Wesley and Doyle exchanged a look. She was seriously missing something here.

'So,' she went on, 'Is Xander okay?'

Wesley nodded.

'He lost a lot of blood, but I'm told he'll be fine. Cordelia's with him.'

'And again I'm surprised. Is there anything else I need to know?'

As Wesley's eyes flickered up to Doyle, she stepped forward, getting in his eyeline.

'Would you two just quite with the not so subtle "Buffy mustn't know" tactic. It's getting old very quickly.'

Wesley just stared at her.

Back in Sunnydale, he hadn't made any impression on Miss Summers' life, except to put her off Watchers for good. He'd been ineffectual, a person for whom she'd had no respect, and in truth, he'd done precious little to earn it. There had been rules he was determined to follow and she had no part in that. Wesley had been determined to make a good impression - not to the Slayers, but to the council, following their step by step pattern to watching. He was too indebted to his father, and those who trained him to do anything else.

But he'd been stripped of everything that he believed in, his command, his vocation taken away because he'd not allowed for difference of opinion. Buffy and Giles were...family - they understood each other, worked as a team. And that was something he could never be part of. The council had lain all the blame with him, and whilst he accepted most of it, Wesley had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't all his fault. If he'd understood why the Slayer had lived so long, how her circle of friends benefited, rather than hindered the good fight. If he'd known any of that, he might have stood a chance.

Here, dishonoured and penniless, Wesley had been given another opportunity, and he'd taken it. Working for a souled vampire, finally using his researching skills to help those around him, accepting that companionship could come in any form. All this he'd done, accepted, and found he could improve - get over his flaws to become someone of use. He mattered now.

But Buffy didn't know that. To her, Wesley was still the impotent Watcher who had ruined many of her plans. He wasn't Angel's employee, Doyle's partner, or Spike's friend. He was just Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, man to be disobeyed and discounted when she decided.

'Buffy,' he began slowly, 'I know this must seem strange to you, but Spike is our concern. He's been poisoned by Faith and the cure...'

'Don't tell me,' said Buffy, 'Slayer's blood.'

She shook her head.

'Can't she come up with anything original?'

'Doesn't look like it,' said Doyle. 'Maybe it's like a calling card, you know, kill off a vampire lover and get you all on edge?'

As Wesley winced, Buffy turned to the half-demon.

'What did you say? Someone's...Spike and someone?'

She looked at Doyle as he tried to shake his head.

'So who? Spike and Cordelia?'

Wesley laughed harshly and held up his hands when Buffy turned on him.

'What?' she asked coldly.

'Nothing,' said Wesley, 'Just...Cordelia and Spike. I can't see it myself.'

Doyle nodded.

'They'd talk themselves to death in seconds.'

'Okay guys,' said Buffy, 'Much as I'd like to listen to your little conversation here, I came to help Angel and stop Faith. Can we deal with that please?'

She stared at them both and Spike stirred. Before she could comment, both men had turned to the bed, ready to do what they could to make the vampire more comfortable.

'Need a fag,' said Spike with his eyes closed.

'He what?' asked Buffy.

Doyle reached for the cigarettes, but Wesley shook his head.

'I don't think that's a good idea, Spike. You're very ill, I don't want to do anything to make it worse.'

'...Fucking dead already.'

Buffy looked at the wound in Spike's shoulder; practically identical to the one Angel had been given the previous year. It was festering, its purplish appearance due to the powerful poison that was breaking apart the vampire's body.

And these two looked bothered about it. Didn't they know anything about Spike? Didn't they know how many he'd killed, how much he loved to destroy, taking life as he pleased, bringing forth creatures of destruction, utterly unrepentant for his sins. He was a vampire, one without a soul, and therefore fair game. Just because the Initiative, (and she really hated that name now) just because they had managed to take his bite away didn't mean that Spike was a creature to be saved.

But would Angel see it that way?

She knew, from things Giles had told her, from things Angel had told her, that Spike was his protege, Drusilla's childe and his once favourite creation. As Angelus, he had originally admired Spike's talent for violence, training him and taking pleasure in the vampire's savagery. With his soul, he'd feared for Buffy and everyone else because of Spike's persistence - his willingness to get the job done, no matter how long it took. He'd killed Slayers before, and Buffy knew he would have liked to take her for a third, a hat trick of Slayers. She just knew he'd get a kick out of that.

But now he lay in Angel's bed, dying from a rare poison, whilst Angel presumably went out and brought a dead Faith back to feed him. It wasn't Faith's death she objected to specifically, she'd had a few thoughts that way herself, and Buffy was fairly sure she'd be one of the first in line to celebrate the Slayer's death. But the idea of Angel curing Spike at all bothered her. What right, what reasoning could Angel possibly have to save one killer with another?

Wesley lay the damp flannel over Spike's forehead.

'I think he's asleep again.'

'How can you tell?' asked Doyle, 'He's dead, how do we know he's not dead dead?'

Wesley shrugged.

'I was expecting a big pile of ash if that happened.'

'Good point,' admitted Doyle.

He stood up and saw Buffy still glaring at them both.

'Buffy, I don't see what you can do here. Angel's changed a lot since you knew him and I'm not sure you're up to dealing with that.'

'Excuse me?' said Buffy; 'I don't know Angel?'

'Angel,' moaned Spike.

'He's coming, Spike,' said Wesley, 'It'll be all right.'

'Stupid Pouf...'

'Well he hasn't changed,' said Buffy.

'...Kill himself...'

'And with instructions too,' nodded the Slayer.

'.... Mine.'

Buffy blinked and bent closer to the vampire.

'What did you say?'

Wesley lay his hands gently on Buffy's shoulders.

'Buffy, I think you should come away.'

'Did he say mine?'

'Yeah,' said Angel, walking into the room, 'That's exactly what he said.'

Doyle gave a rough smile to the vampire and Angel nodded, thankful for the concern he and Wesley had shown. They walked out quietly, leaving Angel with the women he had once loved and the man he loved now. She looked at him a moment in silence, taking in his long lean frame, his intense gaze and the gentle mouth she'd dreamed about more times than she could ever remember. She had changed over the time they were apart, had grown, moved on - found someone new. His curse was to never know that growth - Angel would remain the same throughout the ages. To see him now - looking the same as the first day she met him, hurt more deeply than she'd expected.

There was always sorrow with Angel and strangely, it was one of the things she missed most.

Before she could say anything, he moved forward and kissed Spike on the forehead, a gesture so peculiarly intimate, that it really could have no other meaning. Suddenly feeling as though she were falling, Buffy sat down on the side of the bed, watching as the man she had threatened the world for, loved another.

She wasn't sure if she did know Angel anymore.

Taking his time, aware that things had to be said, Angel wiped the sweat away from Spike's body. He knew how this felt, and knowing, although it didn't make it better, helped focus his mind. Faith had done this, Faith would be coming and Faith would die to save him. There were no other options.

He sat down next to Spike and wondered where to begin.

'So you and Spike,' said Buffy, aiming for casual. 'Is that something you were going to tell me, or were you saving it up to torture me with later on?'

There's as good a place as any.

'I guess I deserved that,' said Angel.

'Er yeah,' agreed the Slayer, 'Got that right.'

Angel shifted slightly, wondering what he should say. Buffy, I know I professed undying love for you, but that was a while ago and I've changed my mind. You see, Spike came to me and, well, I realised that it wasn't you I've always loved, but this amazingly arrogant and annoying English vampire who drives me crazy half the time, actually...actually, make that all the time. He's been the most evil thing I've seen, the purest vampire in existence and the only one I ever met whose personality remained the same. He belongs to me and I, against everything you would believe, belong to him.

Now what did that come down to?

'I love him, Buffy,' said Angel slowly.

The Slayer snorted out a laugh, the first tear threatening to fall.

'You love him. Right.'

She touched her hand to her forehead, as if she was trying to wipe away the knowledge.

'And all that between us was what? Practise? So that you could come here and take up with that, that...That?'

'That's not fair.'

'Not fair?' She shook her head in disbelief. 'I came here because Giles told me you were in danger.'

Angel frowned at her.

'That's pretty much a given everyday. Why now?'

She set her jaw.

'Faith,' she admitted. 'She did some really bad stuff and I wanted...'

'Revenge?'

Buffy shook her head.

'To see her put away, for good.'

'Well that's okay then,' said Angel, 'Because that's exactly what I'm going to do.'

'Oh really? Cause the way I see it, you're going to feed her to Spike, which is not okay, not okay at all.'

'And what were you going to do, Buffy?'

She blinked, unprepared for the question, unprepared for Angel to give her anything but understanding.

'I was going to...the police. She needs to go to jail.'

'They can't handle her,' said Angel, 'She's too strong.'

'Well she's the Slayer. We're supposed to be strong enough to take down vampires.'

He saw the glimmer of a tear on her cheek, the saltiness lost below the smell of Spike's sweat.

'Doesn't always work, does it?' she whispered.

Part of him wanted to go to her then, hold her in his arms as he had done before, letting her pour out her troubles onto him, accepting the sorrow as if it was his due. He was the vampire with a soul, guilty for everything he had done, and everything he had failed to do. Letting the little slayer cry whilst he held her had been as much a part of his atonement as anything he had done since. It was almost like an addiction, the pain she expressed never close to the remorse he felt.

But if he had started to become a someone with Buffy, he was becoming more human because of Spike. The Oracles had allowed him to stay with his vampire lover, to keep his soul, because Spike could show him the way, whether he knew what he was doing or not. And he refused to lose him now.

'Faith's going to be coming here and when she does, I'm going to cure Spike.'

She stared at him a moment before nodding.

'And I don't want you changing your mind all of a sudden and stopping me.'

'You think I'd do that?'

'I don't know,' said Angel to her incredulous expression, 'Did you think I'd be here with Spike?'

She looked down and shook her head.

'No, I really didn't. I thought...'

She raised her head and looked at him.

'I've met someone else. Someone I love.'

Angel wondered why it didn't hurt. Hadn't he wanted this for her? Wasn't this the entire reason he'd left Sunnydale, so that she could move on, find someone she could build a life with, rather than the dark that he inhabited? And if it was, why did she still expect him to hurt over it?

'That's good,' said Angel, 'I'm pleased...for you.'

She nodded.

'I never thought I'd come here,' she said, 'I mean, I had this little dream where it was just you and me, no monsters, no world threatening disasters, no curse. Just you and me, alone, making love, making a life.'

She felt the wet trails streak her cheeks.

'That's never going to happen, is it?'

Angel shook his head.

'Never could.'

'Oh,' she breathed, wiping away her tears, 'Well, I guess I can take that.'

She got her feet, ready to go.

'I'm gonna go, I think.'

He watched her, realising that the last of his love for the Slayer had died a while ago. He hadn't felt it leave, but he knew what had replaced it. If it meant he never saw Buffy again, he wouldn't mind, as long as he could bring the cure to Spike. And he didn't know if the Slayer would have a change of heart, protecting Faith at the last minute. There was no animosity on his part, just the wish to have her leave, and the life he'd created restored to him once more.

'Take care,' he said, opening the door.

Buffy hesitated, wishing he'd hold her, wishing he'd let her know that she hadn't imagined being in love. Hadn't imagined being loved. But Angel's heart lay elsewhere and she couldn't even hope to understand that. Where they'd once been warriors side by side, Angel was no more a part of her life as her errant father, someone she knew of and cared for, but who would never enter centre stage again.

She'd leave the door open, just in case.

'Angel?' she asked before she left for good.

'Yeah?'

She offered him a small smile.

'I hope you get Spike back.'

He smiled at her and she read the worried need in his face. Buffy walked up the stairs, heading out of Angel's home, out of his life, back into her own world. This time she didn't hide the tears, didn't stop to think how things could have turned out. This time, she was on her own.

I hope you get him back, she thought as she walked away, because I know how it feels to lose the one you love.

And I know you can't replace them.
 

*
 

Wesley put a book back carefully on the shelf, whilst Doyle wiped down the crumbs off the table.

They were both far too aware that Angel was spending what could be his last moments with Spike. Buffy had left hours ago and, aside from the two phone calls the vampire had made to the hospital, Angel hadn't strayed from his lover's side. They all knew that Faith could be anywhere, and whilst the feeling that she would come here dominated, waiting was growing increasingly hard to do.

Wesley had pulled out book after book, trying to prise out some extra knowledge, something that would give them an alternate cure, but the few obscure references he'd found all said the same thing - that Spike could be cured only by the blood of the Slayer. He wondered if Angel had thought about feeding Buffy to Spike and dismissed it almost immediately. There was too much between them, too much heartache already passed for Angel to go down that road. Besides, Wesley knew this was an act of revenge - Faith would die for what she had done to the younger vampire, and her death would restore him.

Nothing less would work.

'Wes?'

The ex-watcher looked up; the same worried expression etched over Doyle's face. Since Cordelia's rather brusque acceptance of their relationship, they'd hit what felt like a lull. There was nothing stopping them becoming lovers to the outside. They were acknowledged as a couple, Spike had passed over some explicit, frightening and, in one case, somewhat impossible techniques. He'd offered his services over and over to initiate the pair of them, and proposed himself as spectator, telling them what went where. Wesley was sure he was kidding, but sometimes that glint had been visible enough to make him wonder.

If Spike recovered, Wesley was going to take him up on one of those dirty video evenings, just to watch his chiselled face crack a grin when the seventies' actors started moaning. That sly, oozing sex-appeal grin was something he didn't want to be without and he wondered if Doyle felt the same way.

Doyle slipped his arms around Wesley's back, wondering if the man actually knew how sexy he looked when he was worried.

'It's gonna be okay, man. There's no way Faith's gonna miss the ending.'

'Spike dying, you mean,' murmured Wesley. 'No, I'm sure you're right. This wouldn't be as fun for her without the main event.'

Doyle felt the choke in Wesley's voice, the hard knot in his belly tensing as he realised how worried the man was.

'He's not gonna die,' said Doyle, 'She'll come soon.'

Wesley nodded and rested his head against Doyle's, grateful for the solid strength of the half demon. He felt Doyle chuckle and pulled back, a troubled look across his face.

'What's funny?'

Doyle shrugged.

'Well, here's you and me worried about whether Spike's gonna live, when it's our asses that she's gonna kick first!'

Wesley raised an eyebrow.

'I hadn't thought of that.'

'Well, I think we'd better, Wes. Cause from what you've said this girl ain't one for taking prisoners. We could end up squashed flat when she runs in to get the brooding one.'

'True,' said Wesley. 'Do you think we ought to leave?'

Doyle shook his head.

'Nah, just lets you and me just try and stay somewhere she's not gonna trip over us.'

'Like where?'

Doyle looked around.

'Well, how about your book stacks? There's hundreds of the damn things in there and it's not exactly in the line of fire.'

Wesley looked past Doyle to the small room, knowing its layout by heart, wishing like mad he'd found something of use within its archives. If they grabbed a few weapons, holed up in there, there was a chance Faith wouldn't see them. And if Angel did need a hand taking the girl down, they'd be ready, Wesley more than willing to oblige.

'Come on then,' he said, picking up the axe from the kitchen table.

'Where are we going?'

Wesley smiled at him - soft, subtle, and intensely kissable.

'We're going to need supplies aren't we?'

Doyle nodded, that look of confusion still visible.

'What are you thinking? Food and Water?'

Wesley grinned and all misgivings left the half-demon's mind.

'Something like that, yes.'
 

*
 

Angel pushed back the covers, slowly stroking the sponge down Spike's body. Somehow, the frame seemed lighter, as though the poison had taken away what little fat the vampire had. He traced the sponge over every inch of fevered skin, aching to take the pain away, needing to do something whilst he waited Faith's arrival. It all came down to this, the destruction of a Slayer.

For years he had laboured to protect the Slayer of the moment, and Angel had taken that responsibility, taken that opportunity to become someone. Now, because of similar loyalties, he was going to violate that protection. It wasn't even a question anymore. He'd wondered if Faith deserved a chance to change; knowing that she had possibilities, however deeply they were buried. But Spike was what he wanted, and for the vampire to live, Faith had to die.

There really were no other options.

All he could do now was wait until she came, glory etched across her face, waiting for him to make a final attempt to save his lover. In the mean time, all he could do was watch over the slender frame, wishing he couldn't see his bones through his skin. Spike had been well fed, even if the source of his nutrition was pig's blood. But in the past two days it all seemed to have drained from him, and he looked like the corpse he was. Angel had tried to feed him, had even offered his own blood in the hope that Spike could gain some strength from its potency, but nothing had worked. Wesley and Doyle had stayed away from him for the latter half of the day, and Angel suspected, when he was able to think of anything other than Spike, that they wanted him to have time alone with the man he loved.

A last time.

Spike shifted in his sleep and struggled to open his eyes.

'Pet?'

Angel smiled even though he knew Spike couldn't see it, stroked the vampire's hand, though he knew Spike could barely feel it.

'Hey,' he said gently, 'You back with us?'

Spike let out a low chuckle, which would have reassured Angel, if it weren't for that throaty cough which broke it up. The dark vampire ran water round Spike's lips, moistening them, wondering if it worked as well for vampires as it did for humans.

'Pretty much,' he shifted uncomfortably, 'fucked, Pet.'

Angel offered him a half-smile.

'Don't worry, I know how to get the cure.'

'When?'

The laboured speech of the normally loquacious vampire was slowly wearing down Angel's emotions. He could take Spike being ill, because he would bring the cure. He could take Xander being shot at, because he knew the boy would recover. All these things were horrible, and Angel hated that they had happened, but he could cope.

Hearing Spike's degeneration was tearing him apart, and he knew he had to hold it together to beat Faith. He'd never heard Spike desperate before - he'd heard him annoyed, (frequently) he'd heard him passionate, (more frequently) and he'd heard him upset twice. He'd never heard him desperate to hold on and it was breaking Angel's heart.

He touched his lips to the damp forehead, savouring the taste.

'Soon,' Angel promised. 'Now sleep, save your strength.'

Spike laughed again, the passion he usually employed painfully absent.

'Daft bugger,' he managed, then slipped back into unconsciousness.

Angel closed his eyes, focussing on what had to happen.

He promised them that Slayers, whether they be friend or foe, would no longer enter their vocabulary. He promised that he would free Spike and deal with the consequences of that, hoping against hope that Spike would choose him. He promised that he would keep his family together.

He promised the future.

On the hope of an Angel, a Slayer this way comes.
 

*
 

Wesley and Doyle holed up in the darkness, watching as Faith walked slowly round Angel's apartment, picking up ornaments and examining them, wondering whether the vampire knew she was here yet. Wesley knew theoretically that there was little that slipped past either vampire, they were both highly sensitive to smell and sound. But Faith had been quite silent, and both men had wondered if she had heard them breathe - if she knew they were hiding there.

With a breezy grin, the Slayer flung her arms wide, embracing the challenge as though she had lived especially for this moment. The potency of a Slayer's lure was legendary. Wesley remembered reading diaries from centuries past, describing how the demons would come to her, wanting to fight the sole creature whose role it was to destroy them. They had come to be slaughtered, vested in the knowledge that they only had to be lucky once, she until the day she died.

What creates such beings, wondered the Watcher? I've studied all my life and I only have the haziest of knowledge on that subject. We Watchers have believed as long as we've existed that we fight for the greater good, killing off demons and the undead as we see fit, but when a Slayer can be bad, and a vampire can be a warrior of virtue, where do we make our judgements?

Doyle wrapped his arm around him and Wesley shifted a little, careful not to make any noise, crossbow still tightly clenched in his left hand. In his wildest dreams, (and after one particularly descriptive account of a demonic ritual, they had been very wild) Wesley had never imagined he would find comfort in the arms of a demon. Okay, so he was a half-demon, but Doyle was powerful enough to kill, and he could, if he wanted, choose the evil path. That he didn't was more than to his credit, it proved that there were areas of council lore that should be questioned.

We do not know the enemy by sight, thought the Englishman, we do not know at all.

Doyle looked at him and Wesley offered him a worried smile. The Irishman smiled and leaned forward, brushing his lips against Wesley's own - comfort in the dark. When this is over, thought Doyle, you and I are going to go home, go to bed and get some sleep. And I want you in *my* bed, I want to hold you in the dark, like this, but I want to show you the night can be safe. After all this tension, Wes, I want to make you relax.

And maybe, some other stuff too.

Wesley blinked at the intensity of Doyle's eyes, wondering if he was imagining the desire he could see. It was dark here, and everything felt like it was almost over. He should be afraid, but there was comfort here, companionship, and for the first time, Wesley didn't feel alone.

It was an accomplishment of sorts.
 

*
 

'Come on big guy!'

Faith turned around, waiting for Angel to descend on her; waiting for his killing blow.

'You got the balls, I know that, so why don't you get your ancient ass out here and play a little?'

No answer.

She grinned and turned toward the bedroom.

'What? Are you having your last mercy fuck?'

When this didn't receive an answer, she moved to turn the handle.

'Or is it something more unpleasant?'

Angel opened the door, a carefully constructed blank expression on his face. There was none of the passion Angelus used - this was far colder than that vampire could have managed. This was the cold chill of Angel, lover in immortal danger.

'Faith,' he said briefly.

She blinked and leaned forward, cocky grin on full wattage.

'Is that all I'm gonna get?'

Angel just looked at her, turning the knife he held over in his hands. Faith ignored its presence and carried on in a decidedly cheery voice.

'You know, I would have thought, what with all the time you and B stood together, that you'd have managed some kind of witty comeback by now.'

Angel merely shifted into a fighting stance; arms ready to grapple with the Slayer.

To bring her down.

And still the girl talked.

'I don't get it Angel - all the demons I've fought usually say something. Granted it's pretty much "you're gonna die", but I usually get *something*.'

He raised his eyes to hers, anger visible there alone, his emotions, his needs far from her now. She shrugged and pulled out a stake.

'Just a sentence?'

Angel lashed out quickly, cutting a line down Faith's neck with the blade. As she clasped her hand to her neck and looked at him expectantly, hope resurfaced in the vampire's mind.

'You're going to die Faith.'

She raised her spare arm.

'Finally! Although, gotta say Angel, old man, you're not much for originality.'

He kicked her legs out from under her, flinging the blade at her leg before she got up. With a pained laugh, she struck out, beating on the vampire as hard as she could, all the anger coming through her fists. Payback's a bitch, and I'm delivering, she thought with a grin, punching Angel as hard as she could, waiting for him to buckle under her blows.

He took the punishment, working round the front room, aware of his every step. She was so confident that she could do this, almost too confident. He'd seen this attitude before, seen people so desperate, so disgusted that surviving no longer mattered. Faith wasn't fighting to live; she was fighting to win, to do all the damage she could. If she died because of it, it wouldn't matter, as long as Angel lost everything he loved.

As long as the vampire was defeated.

She stabbed forward with the stake, only Angel's instincts preventing her from doing more than grazing his chest. He pulled back, looking for the anger in her eyes. It was there, she was enjoying this, but the desperation was greater and for a moment his heart bled.

'What's the matter big guy? Longer you take to kill me, more likely it is that your little buddy becomes ashtray filling.

But only for a moment.

He kicked out viciously, sending her flying back against the wall.

'You want to die Faith? Is that it?'

She wiped her mouth, tasting her own blood spilling from somewhere inside.

'I want to win.'

Angel backed up, picking up the sword from the wall.

'Not going to happen.'

She grinned at him, straightening up and hurling the delicate cabinet at the vampire.

'Now this is more like it, Love. Banter before death.'

As Angel ducked, she launched a flurry of blows on his chest, reaching for her stake when he banged onto the floor.

'Shame this is your exit, Babe.'

She kissed him hard, raising the stake high above her head.

'Guess who won, Angel?'

He struggled to move and she delivered a harsh punch with her free hand.

'But don't worry, Spikey boy'll be following you in a minute or so.'

Angel grunted, unable to move away from her. She'd pinned his arms beneath her knees and he couldn't pull free. Couldn't dodge, couldn't stop her from landing that stake. Couldn't win.

I'm so sorry Spike.

She clicked her tongue on the side of her mouth.

'No last words? Okay then.'

As the stake came near, there was a whistling noise and Faith suddenly wrenched backwards, the stake slipping from her hand, landing harmlessly by Angel's shoulder. Quickly, he shifted under this distraction, sliding out from under her, his mind already on his next move.

As Angel got to his feet, looking for a new weapon, he saw Wesley standing in the corner of the room, crossbow still raised. He followed the stunned man's glance to the Slayer. Two bolts protruded from her shoulder, blood seeping from the fresh wounds. He looked back to Wesley and saw Doyle coming forward, gently lowering the weapon. Doyle gestured to Angel.

'You'd better fix your boy.'

Angel paused a second before nodding and carrying the Slayer into his bedroom.

Wesley didn't stop staring and the already congealing blood on the floor.

'I was her Watcher,' he said in a distant voice.

'I know man,' said Doyle, 'And you were a fine one.'

Wesley shook his head.

'I wasn't, I was awful.'

He raised his eyes uncertainly to Doyle.

'I could have prevented all of this.'

Doyle shook his head.

'You couldn't have done, Love. No one could.'

'I should have,' the ex-watcher said in that same blank voice. 'I should have known better.'

Doyle pulled him, shook his arms until Wesley managed to focus.

'Angel's in there now with Spike, healing the only man he's said he loves. Do you want that to have gone differently?'

Wesley swallowed and shook his head.

'Right the, so you did the right thing, okay?'

'I don't know,' said Wesley, the merest tremble in his body. 'I shall never know.'

Doyle pulled him close a second and kissed him hard.

'She'd have killed us next, you know?'

'I know.'

'And I for one, am not all that keen on that.'

Wesley almost smiled, but his shock was tangible, something that wouldn't disappear anytime soon. Doyle brought him into the kitchen and sat him down, producing a bottle of whiskey from his pocket and filling a tumbler with the alcohol.

'This is going to knock me out,' said Wesley.

Doyle knocked a load back.

'Then I'll carry you home,' he said.

Wesley huffed in amusement.

'That a proposition, Francis?'

Doyle smiled.

'Fancy sharing my bed tonight?'

Wesley nodded.

'Yes, I think that would be a very good idea.'

He sipped at his drink.

'Did you call me "love" earlier?'

Doyle shrugged and refilled his glass.

'You're not the only one who missed the little fucker you know.'
 

*
 

Angel dumped Faith on the bed checking her pulse, seeing that she was breathing, barely. A last twinge of guilt passed him as he contemplated killing her, but looking at Spike, knowing he had lasted long beyond the time he had been poisoned strengthened his resolve.

He sat down next to her and pulled Spike gently into his lap, pressing his body back against his own, spreading Spike's legs and reaching for Faith. He struggled to reach the Slayer, his panic adding to the difficulty. Angel pulled her upright, her head lolling back against Spike's shoulder, baring a neck through which blood throbbed slowly. With a last thought to what he was doing, Angel scratched his finger along her neck, opening her skin, the blood flowing freely in front of Spike's nose.

'Come on,' he urged, pressing Spike's face forward. But Spike had neither the strength nor the ability, and it dribbled past his mouth uselessly.

Angel swallowed hard, wondering how to do this. A memory flashed past his brain, reminding him of the possibility, but it was gone before he could latch onto it, and Faith was bleeding fruitlessly in their arms. He reached for the memory, catching its trails and remembering what had once been.

Spike couldn't feed...

Spike couldn't feed, so he had...

Will couldn't feed, so Angelus had done it for him.

With a growl, Angel slid Spike into one arm, grasping Faith to his throat. He sunk his fangs in deeply, tasting the power inherent in her blood. It flowed easily into his mouth, and before he could give way to temptation and swallow it, Angel turned to Spike and pressed his lips against his childe's. Almost unwillingly, Spike's mouth slipped open and Angel pressed his tongue inside, filling the vampire with the blood of the Slayer.

Spike choked, struggling feebly in Angel's arms.

The dark vampire growled and, obeying some deep instinct, Spike swallowed, the first meal he'd had in days entering his system. With a pleasured moan, he shuddered and Angel, not daring hope that this was victory, turned back to the Slayer. He drank and passed it to his childe over and over; each time feeling a little slide into his mouth, aware that Spike was growing stronger and that Faith's pulse was ebbing away.

He didn't know how many times his lips had touched Faith's neck, how many times Spike had suckled on the blood, tasting the potent liquid, his cure filling his body. Angel could see, could feel the strength returning to his lover's body, but he didn't stop. When Spike's hand came up in front of his face, he shuddered, confused and shaking at the night's events. Angel opened his eyes and met Spike's, his lips coated with blood, pale, but once more in control.

'What?' he asked, wondering where the trembling tone had come from.

Spike gestured to the girl.

'One more mouthful...and she's dead.'

Angel shook his head.

'She's your cure. She...'

'She's human,' said Spike and groaned, the Slayer's blood doing its work.

'I don't, 'started Angel, 'I don't understand.'

Spike growled and sat up, his bones, against all probability, aching.

'She's human, and you don't let the buggers die.'

Angel looked at him, recognising both the need and the resolve. He looked at Faith a moment before turning back to his childe.

'Are you sure?' he almost murmured.

Spike leaned back against the pillow.

'I'm back, Love, and I've never been any more certain.'

Still Angel waited.

Spike growled and pushed his sire and the girl to the edge of the bed.

'Get her to a fucking hospital...no more fucking killing!'

Angel blinked, leaned forward and kissed Spike before getting to his feet, hefting Faith into his arms. He opened the door and turned back to his childe.

'I would have done anything to bring you back.'

'I know,' said Spike, wiping the last of the blood on his hand and licking it away. 'Same applies, Pet.'

Angel nodded and ran out, the last of his fears about Spike fading as dawn approached. And as he left Faith in the capable arms of the paramedics, he realised anything was possible. If a vampire could change its purpose without a gypsy curse, there was hope for all creatures.

Even Faith.

With a last look at the predawn sky, Angel disappeared back into the tunnels and back to Spike.

Back home.
 

*
 

The couple grunted hard, rolling round on the bed with abandon, baring as much as possible, completely uninhibited. Naked bodies thrusted, pushed and slapped against one another, slathering each other in baby oil, making sure that everything was at the right angle. As he drove hard inside his partner, the broad shouldered man let out a moan, watching his cock sink in deep, his partner's ass slapping against his thighs. With a loud grunt, he turned slightly, letting his hand push against the curvature of the younger man's ass.

'That's right, fuck yourself on me, Baby.'

Spike spluttered out his popcorn, laughing so hard that Angel had to hit him on the back to stop him choking. As the younger vampire rocked back and forth on the sofa, Angel shifted slightly, allowing Spike to settle back against his body once more. His childe had recovered quickly, the potency of the Slayer's blood working its magic, but he wasn't up to full strength yet, and Angel worried.

Smiling, he snaked a hand round Spike's waist - so far, his worrying had paid off every time.

'That's bloody priceless, mate,' grinned Spike, reaching for another handful of buttery popcorn. 'Who scripts these damn things?'

'Monkeys?' suggested Doyle, 'Or someone who really does think all plumbers are just sex waitin' to happen?'

'They obviously haven't seen our plumber,' said Wesley. 'Mr Arbuckle isn't looking for anything other than a hefty pay check when he says "arrrh, that's gonna cost you.".'

'You've got your own plumber?' asked Spike, 'You know his name?'

Doyle grinned and rubbed Wesley's arm.

'Wes remembers everyone. He keeps it all written down in a book.'

'Nonce,' said Spike, shaking his head.

Wesley rolled his eyes, the comment fading from his lips as Doyle slid his hand down to the Englishman's fingers. Every touch lately had stirred him and he wasn't sure he could hold out much longer. Glancing up at Doyle's eyes, he judged the feeling was mutual.

'I think it's kind of nice,' said Doyle, 'People like being remembered.'

'They do,' agreed Angel, 'Could you teach Cordelia how to do it?'

'I thought she was getting better?' said Wesley, 'She's even improved the coffee.'

They all nodded. For some reason the brown sludge she presented had become more coffee-like lately. So much so that each of them had been caught at one time or another with a mug in their hand.

'She has improved,' said Angel, 'But she tends to refer to clients as "the little people".'

'When she's filing?'

Angel shook his head.

'To their faces.'

Spike chuckled.

'Bloody priceless, that girl. You couldn't pay to find anyone that incapable.'

'Why would you want to?' asked Wesley.

Doyle squeezed his fingers affectionately.

'Xander seems keen.'

Wesley looked at him a moment, and Doyle knew he was wondering if Cordelia still held a threat between them. He could have told him, had actually stated on more than one occasion that whilst she was a good friend, all romantic notions for her had long since left his mind. And left his heart. But he didn't want to say all that in front of the vampires. For one thing, he was pretty sure that they knew it all already.

The onscreen couple were still grunting away, and Angel turned the sound down. He shook his head and put the remote control on the side of the sofa. Spike pressed back against him, his ass once again the firm muscular expanse of flesh that Angel fantasised about every moment he wasn't looking at it. The younger vampire knew exactly what effect he had on Angel and grinned, his mind building up an exquisite picture of what would happen when Wesley and Doyle finally left.

Whilst he was poisoned, Spike's feverish brain had conjured up all sorts of Bosch-like images of the future. He knew that Angel wanted to restore him, knew also that he would stake Spike the moment he tried to kill another human. He couldn't exist with Angel being his permanent watcher, waiting for the moment when Spike failed. They'd managed to gain some equality in their relationship, taking it far past the one they'd had a hundred years previously. This was not the bond between sire and childe, this was far greater, a meeting of equals in battle and, much more frequently, in bed.

So Spike had chosen, believing with all that he was that it was worth the price. He'd tasted Slayer's blood for the first time in so many decades. It was as powerful as he remembered, flooding his system with more than just a cure. He felt like he could do anything - take over the world, send it to hell, open a chain of bloody Big Mac restaurants for vampires. He could do anything he wanted, but what he truly desired was his mate. Spike wanted to stay with Angel for all eternity and, if swearing off humans was the way to achieve that, he could do it.

So he had given Faith back to Angel and, whilst they still had to decide what to do about the rogue Slayer, Angel understood that the choice had been made. He had mentioned vague plans for returning to Sunnydale, but Spike was happy enough at the moment, knowing that it would happen one day was sufficient for now.

He could wait.

Angel started stroking inside his shirt, fingertips sliding over the flesh of his belly.

He could wait because he had the best distraction a vampire could have.

Not that he was planning on sharing.

'This film is boring,' he said aloud, 'We should have got something erotic.'

Wesley, distracted for a moment by Doyle's smile, blinked and looked at the screen.

'I've never seen one of these before, and, I have to say, I don't think I shall be watching again.'

'Oh?' said Spike, 'That's why you put your glasses on is it? Because you didn't like it?'

Wesley felt his cheeks flush with colour and struggled to regain control. Doyle's fingers tickling his palm hadn't been on his list of arousing activities, but the list was being reassessed and added to, certain items underlined and highlighted.

'I can't see very well without them' he said, 'and I wasn't having you laughing at me for squinting.'

Spike grinned.

'Didn't know you cared what I thought,' he said, ' I'm touched.'

'Definitely touched,' murmured Angel quietly, softly sliding his fingers towards the waistband of Spike's belt.

The younger vampire grinned and shifted on the couch, giving Angel easier access. Fingers teased at the fine hair, brushing against Spike's rapidly hardening cock, its sensitive head twitching at every contact.

'So,' said Spike, 'If we're not watching the film, shouldn't you two be buggering off?'

Angel cringed at Spike's tone - he may as well have said 'Piss off, we want to shag'. It took him about three more seconds to realise that this was about as subtle as Spike got. And if the others stayed any longer, his lover was going to get a lot more graphic. He almost sighed with relief when Wesley got to his feet. The heady smell of arousal filled the air, and Angel guessed that Doyle and Wesley were going to be in for a lot more teasing after tonight.

'Okay, Spike,' said 'we're off.'

'Good,' said Spike, grinning seductively at him. 'Cause this ain't a spectator sport.'

Okay and there was the NOT subtle thing again.

Angel shifted and pulled out from under Spike, ignoring the growl of protest he made.

'Thanks for coming round,' he said as calmly as he could manage, hoping that neither man would notice his erection in the dim light. 'Next time you get to choose the video.'

'Ugh,' said Spike, 'Bloody rooms with bloody views.'

Wesley pushed his glasses up his nose, wondering why he felt so hot.

'I was thinking more of "Women in Love".'

They stared at him.

'Isn't that like Room with a few views?' asked Doyle.

'Not,' said Angel, that half smile back on his mouth, 'if it's the one I'm thinking of. Allan Bates, Oliver Reed?'

Wesley offered him a grin.

'Yes,' he said slowly, 'that's exactly what I was thinking.'

Angel chuckled and opened the gates to the elevator. Doyle followed the Englishman, slightly bewildered.

'I don't remember that one.'

Angel winked at him.

'I'm sure Wesley can fill you in.'

'I bet he bloody can,' whooped Spike from the sofa. 'Now piss of you two, I wanna shag.'

Both men looked at Angel with a modicum of pity. Angel shrugged and closed the gate.

'Never know how you handle that mouth of his,' said Doyle.

'He fills it, Pet,' grinned Spike.

Wesley stepped forward.

'If you need help gagging him...'

Angel nodded.

'I'll call.'

Doyle hit the button and the elevator started its rickety journey up to the office. Angel watched until it was out of sight and turned back to the Cheshire cat on his sofa.

'Now what was that about filling it?'

Spike pulled his shirt off and dumped it on the floor.

'Come over here and I'll show you, Love.'

As seduction methods go, this one worked well. Angel always was fond of a practical demonstration.
 

*
 

The elevator clunked to a standstill in the office.

As Wesley stepped out, all he could think of was the man breathing hard next to him, and how much he wanted to see that body, stripped of all the layers Doyle tended to favour. It had been an image screaming at him all night, and he couldn't get past it to form any kind of coherent thought.

'Wes?'

He turned to Doyle, and saw that need reflected clearly, wondering how they were going to do this.

If they were going to do this.

Best to find some kind of subject to talk about. Something safe.

'So,' said Wesley, 'That film, definitely not what I would have chosen.'

Oh well done, Wesley, he thought with a wince, just steer Doyle straight back onto sex. God, he wished he could steer Doyle onto sex. The erection he'd been sporting was getting painful. He needed some release and he wanted to do something that wasn't a solo activity. Maybe he should mention that mud wrestling after all.

Doyle didn't seem fazed in the slightest. In fact, thought Wesley, he looks quite...

'Doyle? Why are you taking your jacket off?'

...comfortable.

'Wes, man,' Doyle began, sliding his coat down onto Angel's desk, 'Just relax a minute. You're getting all tense.'

'Well you're stripping off,' said Wesley, his cheeks reddening, 'It makes me...tense.'

Doyle grinned and stepped toward him.

'It's just my coat,' he said, brushing a hand down Wesley's neck. 'I'm perfectly respectable.'

Wesley chuckled at the idea of a perfectly respectable Doyle.

'What?'

'Oh...nothing,' huffed Wesley, still smiling, 'I just...wanted you a bit...unrespectable?'

'A bit dirty, you mean?'

Doyle's hand reached the collar and slipped to the top button, sliding it out and stroking the hollow of Wesley's throat. He could feel the Englishman swallowing hard and he stepped forward, pressing his body against Wesley's, finding to his delight that he wasn't the only one excited.

'Now that's something you don't see every day,' he murmured.

'Hmm?'

Pressing his fingers against the pulse, Doyle edged Wesley against the desk.

'A Watcher with his eyes closed.'

Wesley blinked and looked at him, finding that irresistible smile and another part of his own inhibition fading away. It helped that Doyle didn't seem at all bothered at finding him so aroused. Should I feel this comfortable, he wondered? Why on Earth does this feel so right?

'Can't see anything with your eyes shut,' Doyle lectured gently.

'Should I be looking?'

Doyle grinned and pulled open the second button.

'Well I'm figuring yeah, cause I don't plan on missing a minute of this.'

Another button came undone and Wesley could feel the cool breeze from the air conditioning on his skin. He shivered, and gasped as Doyle's fingers strayed inside the crisp cotton.

Doyle caught his open mouth, kissing the lip that glistened, tasting the fear and lust. He wanted to take away the fear, although he wasn't sure why he felt so authoritative. He'd never been here before, had never done anything like this with any man, and even when he'd spent the night with Wesley, they'd instinctively worn something in bed, protecting themselves from an act neither understood properly. But they knew the implications, felt the need. And if this was an act of discovery, a little clumsy and unsure, then so be it.

They had time.

And for once, they had the opportunity.

He started kissing his way round Wesley's mouth, feeling the man shiver, his lips trembling until Doyle felt them land on his face, kissing back, tasting him. Doyle groaned as Wesley pushed forward, his hips straining for some kind of release, some kind of pleasure he'd only imagined. Doyle pressed back, aware that Wesley had lost his balance and was toppling onto the desk.

With a bump, Wesley leaned back and rubbed his head, slightly sheepish and wondering why his clumsiness extended to all areas of his life. He picked up slightly when he noticed Doyle was removing yet another of those obscurely coloured layers, revealing a vest he recognised.

'Isn't that one of mine?'

Doyle nodded, grinning as he heard the near growl in Wesley's voice.

'Yeah, it ended up in my wash load and I didn't really want to return it.'

Wesley shook his head.

'Why?'

Doyle pulled it slowly over his head and offered it to the ex-watcher.

'Because it smells like you.'

Wesley accepted it with his mouth open.

'Oh,' he managed, 'That sounds...oh.'

Doyle chuckled and sat on the edge of the desk, brushing his fingers over the bare skin, half hidden by a shirt.

'You know, I'd kind of like it if I wasn't the only one sitting round in my pants?'

'What? Oh, oh, right,' said Wesley, sitting up and hurriedly trying to get out of his shirt and coat.

Doyle chuckled and touched his arm.

'I don't think this is a race, Wes. In fact, from what I remember, the idea is to try and finish last.'

'From what you remember?' asked Wesley incredulously. 'You've done this before?'

Doyle raised his eyebrows and Wesley finally understood.

'Oh! You mean women...ah!'

Doyle grinned and kissed him gently.

'Well I think the same rules still apply.'

Wesley kissed him back.

'Most of them, anyway.'

Doyle nodded and ran his fingers slowly over Wesley's skin, already thinking that he hadn't seen enough of its smooth expanse. Wesley was trembling, though Doyle guessed it wasn't just due to the cool temperature of the office. He slid his fingers down to the waistband and saw a worried set of eyes flash at him, the sensation both new and exciting. Doyle winked at the Englishman, and felt the skin cease its nervous flutter.

When Wesley's fingers came to feel the soft mass of hair on his own chest, Doyle let out a groan, reassuring the nervous Englishman that he was doing something right. He bent forward, covering Wesley's body with his own, lips meeting those of his lover on new grounds. He felt Wesley's fingers strain at the coarse material of his jeans, tracing the shape of his erection, flashes of heat and cold passing through his body.

Wesley ran his tongue over Doyle's lips, feeling this building sense of anticipation grow. He wanted sensations he couldn't quantify. He wanted to feel wholly possessed by Doyle, to be able to let go in a way he'd never been able before. He felt more comfortable around the Irishman than he'd felt with anyone and, despite the knowledge that he was in the office of his employers, this was the first time desire hadn't felt forced. He was flushed with lust, stretching from his head all the way down to his toes.

Doyle managed to pull away long enough to rest his fingers at the fastening on Wesley's pants.

'You sure about this? I mean, now?'

Wesley couldn't speak, but he managed a nod, panting hard with the anticipation of Doyle's rough fingers on his skin. Doyle grinned briefly and bent his mouth back to Wesley's as his fingers flicked open the fastening, feeling the soft cotton beneath.

'And you say I wear too many layers,' he grinned gently, pressing his mouth against the corner of Wesley's.

'Better safe than...'

Wesley trailed off as Doyle's fingers found him, tracing the hard length with a trembling hand. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the feel of unfamiliar skin against his own, the curiosity with which Doyle seemed to cover every millimetre of his cock. He pushed up, and felt Doyle's hand close round him, massaging the flesh with a practised rhythm. Swallowing hard, Wesley opened his eyes again, finding his lover sitting up and watching as the head slipped between his fingers, disappearing and reappearing with a delicious regularity.

'That okay?' asked Doyle, fairly confident of the answer.

Wesley nodded, biting his lip as he tried to regain control. Doyle's hand was so warm, and it would be so easy to just give in to the pleasure. He could sense that if he just relaxed, he'd cum within seconds. Laying back, he closed his eyes and just let the sensation wash over him, wondering if anything could feel as good as this.

Doyle curled his fingers over the head, seeing the drops of milky pre cum on his hand. He could feel Wesley holding back and, whilst he was pleased that he could have such an effect, he wanted to hear the man let go for once. With a slight hesitation, he lowered his mouth, flicking his tongue out as he reached his fingers, tasting the salty fluid and finding it didn't taste as bad as he'd expected. Wesley groaned, his hands flying to his hips, feeling Doyle's cheek and understanding what was happening.

Doyle smiled at this acceptance, running his tongue over the sensitive head, feeling it quiver under his mouth. He kept his fingers moving, sliding the skin up and down, Wesley's fists opening and closing as the Englishman tried to keep in control. With a final lick, Doyle gently slid the end up into his mouth, feeling its smoothness and the all over body clench Wesley gave.

'Bloody Hell,' managed Wesley, opening his eyes and finding Doyle tentatively taking more of his hard length into his mouth.

Doyle raised his eyes to him questioningly and Wesley dropped his head backwards.

'Oh God, that feels good.'

Doyle chuckled, and the hum passed through Wesley's body, his every nerve ending tingling.

'Mmm, don't stop.'

Doyle grinned and started to build a steady rhythm between his fingers and his mouth, his own cock throbbing as Wesley twitched and pulsed beneath his hand. He felt Wesley's hands come down to his shoulders, not so much holding him there, as struggling to retain any kind of restraint. But Doyle picked up the pace, loving the way the Englishman was losing it, feeling the pulse building.

'Oh God...Doyle...Francis...you have to...I'm going to...'

Wesley tried to pull away, unwilling to let himself spill into Doyle's throat, but the Irishman wouldn't let go, and he no longer had the control to stop himself.

'Oh God...'

With a deep moan that seemed to come from somewhere in his belly, Wesley came, pulsing hot liquid into Doyle's mouth. The Irishman swallowed, its saltiness not so offensive, the satisfaction of making Wesley lose all his inhibitions much more important. He sucked gently until Wesley stopped shuddering, his own erection pressing against his jeans. Sliding up to Wesley's neck, he was amazed as the Englishman pulled him close, holding him tightly, with a relaxed attitude he'd never seen him with.

'Thank you,' whispered Wesley, kissing Doyle's forehead. 'That was...'

'Good?' offered Doyle.

Wesley smiled and kissed him again.

'Wonderful,' he answered.

Doyle grinned.

'So that's all right then.'

Wesley chuckled and sat up, stroking his fingers down Doyle's hairy chest and to the waistband of his pants.

'What are you up to?' asked Doyle, suspicion happily dawning.

'Attempting to return the favour,' said Wesley, his fingers quickly unfastening Doyle's pants. 'Any tips?'

Doyle smiled and rested his hands behind his head.

'Well it seems easy enough. As long as you're enjoying yourself, that seems to be the main thing.'

Wesley slipped his hand to the firm column that protruded from between the fastening.

'Oh I think you can guarantee that,' he murmured, fingers flicking over the flesh.

'What makes you so sure?' asked Doyle with a grin.

Wesley smiled, and the Irishman saw his cock twitch in anticipation.

'Because I'm not going anywhere until I get it right.'

Doyle swallowed hard as Wesley started licking the sensitive skin. With the Englishman's talent for perfection and study, this could be a long night.

He smiled again, and gave in to the pleasure.

Things were definitely looking up.
 

*
 

On the stairway, the naked couple watched as Wesley and Doyle tried out different ways of pleasuring one another. Spike grinned at Angel, brushing his cock with highly educated fingers.

'Told you,' he whispered.

Angel shook his head.

'I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't seen it.'

Spike kissed his way up the broad shoulders and nuzzled at Angel's neck.

'Why, Pet?'

Angel watched as Wesley sank his mouth down as far as he could, Doyle's body arching under the pressure, wanting more. The vampire felt himself begin to breathe, feeling a little dirty, feeling a whole lot aroused.

'I always thought Wesley was an "in the bed, missionary position" kind of man.'

Spike grinned and to build up a familiar pressure round Angel's cock.

'And now you know he's not?'

Angel shrugged, turning away from the office and meeting the seductive fire of Spike's eyes.

'I don't know.'

He smiled and started stroking his way down Spike's back, finding the irresistible curve of his ass.

'Maybe I'll ask him for tips.'

Spike chuckled gently and kissed the vampire.

'Maybe you should.'

There was a loud groan from the office and they turned back as Doyle came, his body trembling hard. Angel watched, a frown coming over his face.

'That's my desk. It's going to smell of sex.'

'It usually does, Pet,' reminded Spike.

'Yeah,' said Angel, 'But that's you and me and I don't mind that.'

Spike grinned and pulled Angel close.

'Never mind, Love. Maybe they'll sort out the tilt on that bloody thing.'

Angel laughed, quietly.

'No, I don't think so.'

'Why?'

Angel kissed him, fingers, teasing his ass, already eager for more.

'Because after a year of the damn thing wobbling, it'd feel weird if it was straight.'

'Nothing in this office is straight, Pet,' said Spike. 'Except maybe for Xander.'

'Yeah,' said Angel, leaning forward to kiss him. 'Everything but Xander.'
 

*
 

'Tell me something, Pet,' said Spike, pulling out a tub of ice cream. 'If we're going back to Sunnyhell to fix my head, how're you gonna make sure Madam'll stay out of it?'

It wasn't the first time Spike had asked the question, or at least something like it, so Angel couldn't claim he hadn't thought about it. Truthfully he'd done little else. Spike's poisoning had brought certain things into focus, not the least of which was Spike's decision to cap his fangs for good. Angel wasn't sure how that would work - he had more than enough experience with his own demon to know that giving up O positive wasn't easy. Or, for that matter, possible. He knew Spike had more control than Angel, but that didn't make it as simple as Spike seemed to think. The demon would fight, every minute of every day for the blood, and Spike didn't have a soul to war against the dark.

He did have Angel which, to the older vampire's pleasure, seemed to be the basis of Spike's decision. He'd asked Spike again and again if he was sure he could do this and whilst he seemed a little insulted by the questioning, his answer was always the same. Eternity without Angel just wasn't worth it. Actually, what he'd said was, 'Dull as sodding dishwater without your arse, Pet.' But the gist was the same.

'You're brooding, Love,' said Spike, handing the vampire a spoon.

Angel blinked and looked up at him.

'I wasn't...' Spike raised an eyebrow at him. 'Well okay, maybe I was a little.'

Angel shrugged.

'I was just thinking.'

Spike snorted and sat on the edge of the bed.

'About what? A lack of butchers in the area?'

'No.'

'Then what?'

Angel sat up, pressing a pillow against the headboard and wriggling against it.

'Just thinking about stuff.'

Spike sucked down a glob of ice cream.

'The Slayer?'

'Which one?'

Angel groaned at the very thought.

Faith had recovered in hospital and was on the run once more, escaping quickly from her police escort. Both vampires knew that at some point they'd have to deal with her, and were steadfastly avoiding the subject at the moment. Spike had added that he was avoiding any 'silly bints with crossbows,' but other than that, the subject seemed to be closed. Angel wasn't entirely sure it was a good thing.

Which left the other Slayer in question, the girl...the woman Angel had once loved with all his soul. Unsure how much Spike had actually heard whilst he was ill, Angel hadn't mentioned her visit, uncertain how he would deal with Spike's questioning. He could have told him simply and honestly that he had made his choice known, stating to Buffy that he loved Spike. He'd known that there was no longer a choice, no longer any question who he belonged to, but saying it aloud had taken courage, and a strength of mind Angel didn't know he had.

It would be so easy to slip back into that state of brooding around Buffy. Angel still felt guilty for the acts he'd committed as Angelus and not just because of the damage he had caused. The loss of his soul was something he was unprepared for, a moment of true happiness stealing away his humanity. And it was that which kept him penitent. Not the evil, but the assumption that happiness was also his due. It had broken him once; he would not be that naïve again.

And yet, he was happy.

He had friends he trusted and who trusted him. Cordelia had referred to them all as family on several occasions and Angel was coming to believe it. He cared for the others, protecting them in ways which went long past the call of duty, but it wasn't the only contact he had. Spike had insisted on nights out, inviting the others along for his amusement. Beneath his cruel, (and all too often apt) comments, Spike had grown used to their company, claiming them, pronouncing them his. He was both adaptable and selfish, only doing things which benefited him, but Angel knew that Spike's concept of self, or 'me and mine' covered the five of them, with Xander as an optional extra.

Through Spike, Angel had learned how to have friends again, had relearned what it was to have family. He wasn't always good at it, and he frequently wished he understood the nuances which passed between them. But on the whole, Angel was devoted to his family, and was cared for in return. And when he didn't understand something, Spike was always ready to break it down to its simplest and usually crudest terms.

In one year, he had come closer to the humanity he sought. Demons and curses aside, Angel was living a relatively normal life, his lover close and devoted, his friends supportive. And if it stayed this way for eternity, Angel wouldn't complain. He had what he wanted, no matter how disguised its form.

He didn't think Buffy would understand that, no matter how he tried to explain it to her. She'd left knowing that Angel no longer loved her, and he guessed that was the only point she'd clung to. That Spike had effectively taken her place was hurtful, but less important. She had grown in his absence, taking on a new life, a new lover, something closer to normality than they'd ever had. And he guessed she was content with that, the difference compensating for a certain lack. There had always been passion between Angel and the Slayer - Romeo and Juliet with fangs - and he guessed that the new man didn't fire that spark.

He couldn't help that, and no longer tortured himself with how to make her life better. But he still knew it was an easy state to fall back on. Going to Sunnydale, going to her turf would bring up those issues again, and knowing he was there to cure Spike, unrepentant killer and Angel's new lover, wouldn't exactly set Buffy's mind at ease. He had to...

'Argh!'

Spike grinned at him, the spoon dripping with the remnants of vanilla.

'Thought that might get your attention, Pet.'

Angel scooped up the ice cream of his chest, ready to deliver another lecture on food stains in the bedding. Before he could so much as open his mouth, Spike knelt forward, suckling melted vanilla off his fingers. Chuckling, Angel leaned back against the pillows, watching as Spike's tongue swirled over every digit, licking it clean. There was a wicked expression in the blue eyes and Angel forced himself to lie still, anticipation building with every second. When he'd sucked every last drop away, the blond moved over him, his attention turned to the smudged morsels on Angel's chest.

'Umm, staining the sheets really doesn't bother you, does it?'

Spike shook his head and reached for the tub, tossing the spoon onto the drawers.

'You're not prepared to even talk about it, are you?'

Angel watched as Spike tilted the tub, spilling a good quantity across his now wobbling belly. He knew this wasn't really funny, knew that he really should stop Spike before he had to change the mattress for the third time in a row, but the man was so damnably exciting.

And erotic as Hell.

He watched as the vampire raised his head, slim fingers drawing patterns in the icy liquid. Angel swallowed hard, hoping that trembling didn't give his desire away too quickly. He was, after all, still trying to maintain some kind of calm, something that always melted away in the light of Spike's seduction. And despite all this effort, he knew that Spike didn't buy any of it.

He breathed in, rarely used lungs functioning as his arousal grew. Spike knew exactly where to touch, and where not to touch him, the barest brush of his fingers causing Angel's control to slip. As he felt ice cream slip down his sides, drip onto the sheets, Angel felt all other concerns disappear. This was all that mattered - the feel of his lover, the smell of Spike's recently washed hair, and the all too consuming need that flushed his body.

'Will,' he said, arching up as Spike's fingers reached the matted dark hair. 'Please.'

'Please what?'

Angel bit his lip, sharp teeth drawing blood.

'Touch me.'

And again, he caught that infuriating grin, one that spoke of temptation and reward. A taste of what he might get if he was good. Or very, very bad.

'I am touching you, Pet.'

Angel's blinked as Spike's fingers wandered away, sketching figure eights across his belly, deliberately avoiding the twitching erection that begged attention. Spike got up, moving further down the bed, taking the tub with him. As Angel watched, the vampire poured ice cream over his foot, coating each toe, making him shiver. Spike looked up at him.

'Now I'm not going to have toe-jam issues am I?'

Angel shook his head slowly, unable to form a coherent sentence. He lay there spellbound, as Spike started licking his way round his foot, weaving in and out of each toe, ice cream disappearing down that talented mouth. When Spike reached the arch of his foot, he shook uncontrollably, unable to stand the tickling. Spike sat back, apparently waiting for Angel to stop laughing.

'You done?'

'Sorry,' smiled Angel, 'I...didn't know I was ticklish there.'

He cried out as Spike ran his fingernails along the sensitive skin, his foot kicking out.

'Stop it,' he managed, 'I can't...'

'Control yourself?' asked Spike with a grin, 'We can't have that now, can we?'

He parted Angel's legs, settling himself between the firm thighs.

'Let's try a bit higher up, then.'

Angel shuddered as Spike slid his fingers up and down the inside of his thighs. He closed his eyes, waiting for the vampire to stroke his balls, moaning each time the hand moved away, down to his knee and back up. It was torture, but he could have endured it forever, a far more pleasant punishment than any he'd known before.

How could this man reduce him to a bag of twitching sensations? Every time they reached the bed...no, even that wasn't right. Every time they were alone, he pledged to himself that he wouldn't lose control, that this time he'd make all the moves and get Spike where he wanted. The problem with that was that Spike had an uncanny knack of knowing what he wanted and always got there first. And by that time, Angel was far too satisfied to care.

He could feel Spike watching him, gauging when he was at his limit, waiting for the exact moment when Angel was on the brink. As his fingers curled into fists, almost unable to take the pressure, cool fingers stretched to his balls, barely stroking the soft skin. He moaned, and wondered how the lightest touch could feel so all consuming, could make him ready to explode.

As if he'd read Angel's thoughts, Spike's touch shifted to his thighs again and Angel moaned, missing the contact. He opened his eyes, feeling sweat build on his forehead, amazed that Spike was still grinning.

'There a problem, Love?'

He was about to say no, but he guessed that Spike would pretend to take him at his word, teasing until Angel gave in. And he wanted...he needed him now.

'Yeah, there's a problem.'

Spike didn't move, his fingers still tracing shapes on Angel's thigh.

'Well?'

Angel sat up, cock slapping against his belly.

'Turn over,' he managed, 'Now.'

Spike chuckled and for a moment Angel wondered if he was going to refuse. But the vampire shifted, getting to his knees and spreading his legs a little. Noticing for the first time that his lover was equally as hard, Angel gathered what was left of his composure and curved his hands round the firm ass. He heard Spike growl and smiled to himself, pleased to discover he wasn't the only one on the brink.

Lowering his head, Angel licked his way down Spike's back, the texture of the vampire's spine registering under his tongue. He could feel Spike wriggling, eager for something more, could smell the heat, the need that echoed between them. Slowly, tenderly, he reached the smooth curves of Spike's ass, his tongue flickering against the sensitive skin.

'Fuck me, that's good.'

Angel grinned.

'It's very good.'

Spike chuckled, and Angel nipped at a cheek, eliciting a warning growl. He kissed the fresh mark briefly, then lowered his mouth, his tongue pressing firmly against the opening. The growl subsided into a purr, and Angel pushed forward, sliding past the tight muscle, flexing his tongue from side to side. He grasped both hands to Spike's hips and started to pull back, but his lover pushed against him, sensations too strong to lose, even for a second.

He grasped on the bed for the tub, pulling away briefly to grab a spoonful. He heard Spike start growling again, the noise only ceasing when he settled back behind him, mouth closing over the vampire's ass. He blew gently, pushing the icy liquid inside, feeling the deep shudder that flushed his lover. Angel flicked his tongue in and out, each time adding more ice cream, stretching and sliding his tongue until he couldn't hold on.

Angel got to his knees and held his cock, rubbing it round the slippery opening, ice cream sliding out and covering his erection. He lay a hand on Spike's hip before pushing forward, gasping as he slid inside, feeling Spike pulse around him. Leaning forward, Angel slipped a hand beneath Spike's body and found his cock, coaxing it back to a full erection, easing his slippery fingers up and down its length. The younger vampire growled and Angel pulled back, his fingers slipping to the bottom of Spike's shaft. As he pushed forward, his fingers slid up, and both men groaned.

It never seemed to matter who was on top, who was leading, who came first. None of that really entered into the equation. What pervaded through the physical, through the contact, was the bond, the knowledge and, more tangibly, the feeling that they belonged together. Nothing ever came close, no-one else managed to give them this connection and, whilst Angel knew in every waking moment that Spike was his, it never felt stronger than when they were making love. Every argument, every fight against an enemy, every moment they spent apart was compensated by this.

Plus, it felt pretty good too.

Angel growled as he grew nearer to his climax. He could feel it building, his balls tightening and promising to spill, the head tingling inside Spike. He could feel Spike rocking harder, sliding faster between his fingers, ready to come. With a loud series of moans, Angel throbbed hard, orgasm blinding him to all other thoughts but one.

'Mine.'

Spike shuddered beneath him, his own climax within reach. Angel's fingers trembled, but Spike was so close it didn't matter, and within moments he'd coated the sheet with the white fluid. Angel heard him groan, falling silent as the last of his orgasm slipped away.

'Mine.'

They fell forward, Angel sliding to one side before he crushed Spike. For a moment neither spoke, each content to lie still until they'd recovered, basking in physical satisfaction. Angel was the first to move, rolling on his side and reaching for Spike's neck. He met the blue eyes with an almost dreamy expression, as content as he ever felt, alone with the man he loved. Spike winked at him and he chuckled, wondering why he ever thought the Englishman was romantic.

'Stopped feeling broody now?'

Angel nodded.

'Well that's all right then.'

With another wink, Spike rolled over, before sitting up and looking at the messy white liquid on his arms.

'Bugger me, Pet. How come the bed's never clean?'

Angel raised an eyebrow.

'Spike,' he said warningly. But the vampire was on a roll.

'It's not too much to ask is it? Just a clean bed and some of good stuff in the fridge.'

He stood up and grabbed a towel, apparently intent on the bathroom.

'I'm gonna have a shower now, and when I get back, I want fresh sheets on that bed.'

As Angel started to growl, Spike held his hand up and hmphed in disgust.

'And you complain at me for being untidy, Pet.'

Whatever else he was going to say was lost, as Angel got to his feet, hurling the pillows at his lover, ready to chase. As Angel watched Spike run out of the room, he decided to stop by the kitchen and find that damned chocolate syrup - and then he'd show that obnoxious vampire what mess was.

Sticky, messy and delicious.

next