The Situation

By Esmeralda

Part Twenty-Six

Less than three hours later, a restless Angel wandered through into the kitchen. The dictates of the spell meant he was unable to handle any of the ingredients and he hated standing around doing nothing. He found Xander chopping mice entrails. The boy's face was screwed up in disgust; nevertheless he was performing his allotted task admirably - neatly slicing and dicing, before dropping the slimy pieces into a small bowl.

He looked up as Angel entered. "This," he announced, flicking a bit of sticky entrail off his finger, "is gross."

Angel couldn't disagree. "Are you okay with it?" he asked.

Xander scraped up some more straggly ends of flesh. "Hmm?" he murmured distractedly. "What? Oh, yeah, sure. I've got it." He continued chopping. After a few minutes he looked up again. "Can I ask you something?"

Angel nodded. "Sure, go ahead."

Brown eyes studied him seriously. "Okay. It's just, well...I understand how you felt - about deserving the curse and not wanting to risk losing your soul for good, but-"

"-why am I willing to risk this for Doyle when I wouldn't for Buffy?" Angel finished.

Xander flushed. "Yeah, that's pretty much it."

Angel hesitated. There was no hostility in Xander's tone; the question clearly came out of friendship and loyalty to Buffy. Angel wondered how he could possibly explain. "It's not because I didn't love her," he began. "There were just other...factors involved." It wasn't much of an answer and Angel was surprised when Xander nodded understandingly.

"I guess her being the Slayer meant it was never gonna work between you two."

Taken aback again by Xander's insightfulness, Angel didn't answer.

Xander poked his knife into the wooden chopping board. Keeping his eyes averted he spoke quietly. "I just wanted you to know, I hope this works." He looked up. "I mean, I'm sure it will," he added hastily. "I...I just *really hope* it does." He looked away again.

Angel realised Xander was trying to offer his blessing. It meant a lot, but Angel didn't know quite how to answer. This serious side to Xander Harris still caught him off guard occasionally. He settled for reaching out and gently squeezing the boy's shoulder.

Xander gave him a slightly wobbly smile and then drew in a sharp breath. "Okay, I think I'm ready to take Spike his yummy mouse guts." He wiped his fingers *very* thoroughly on a cloth, and picked up the bowl, wrinkling his nose at the contents. His eyes widened. "You don't have to eat this do you?"

Angel laughed softly. "No."

Xander looked relieved. "Good, because that would be *way* beyond gross."

They went into the next room. The furniture had already been pushed back to the walls in preparation. Weapons and pictures had been taken down; breakables had been removed. Spike and Doyle were sat, cross-legged, in the middle of the floor. Spike was very precisely measuring out the ingredients, while Doyle ground them up into a thick, gritty paste.

"Your mouse parts, sir," said Xander handing Spike the bowl.

Spike looked at them approvingly and put the bowl next to Doyle. "Add them before the Burrel blood. You'll have to watch cos it'll probably fizz up a bit. Don't let it get on you or Angel'll have more holes than he needs."

Doyle gave the vampire a tight, annoyed smile and carried on crushing the mixture.

"How's it coming?" Angel asked. His attempt at nonchalance was slightly spoiled by his ram-rod posture and clenched jaw.

Spike was much better at feigning indifference. With a vaguely bored expression he watched Doyle add the last ingredient, then he took the bowl, examined the mixture, and got to his feet. "It's done. You ready now? Cos this stuff will go off real quick."

Angel stepped forward. "I'm ready. Let's get on with it." He took to the centre of the floor. His hand brushed Doyle's lightly as the young man moved past him.

Xander watched Doyle's step falter at the contact and then quicken. The half-demon joined him at the far side of the room. Doyle's misery was tangible and Xander felt his own heart twist in sympathy. He couldn't find the words to offer comfort so he stepped closer, giving what support he could. Doyle leaned toward him and Xander put an arm around the young man's slender shoulders.

Angel stood, hands held stiffly by his sides, while Spike slowly walked around him. The younger vampire was very carefully sprinkling a silvery-white powder in a metre wide circle around Angel's feet. Xander knew this wasn't part of the spell; it was a security measure. Angel couldn't cross outside the circle once Spike began, unless one of them broke it.

If Angelus did make an appearance this evening, he wasn't going anywhere.

Unwillingly, Xander found his gaze drawn toward the slender wooden stake lying on the floor behind his lover. His chest tightened. He knew he had given his word; he also knew he wasn't at all certain he could keep it. Five days of passion were burned into his memory. The tenderness Angel had shown, the care he had taken, the touch of his hands, the feel of his skin, the taste of his lips....

From disastrous beginnings a surprisingly strong friendship had been forged. He didn't want to lose it now. Tears pricked his eyes and he blinked them away angrily. As hard as this was for him he knew it was countless times harder for the rooms other occupants.

Xander hadn't missed the way his lover's hands had trembled when Spike had taken the bowl, and as for Doyle - the young man's heart was being torn to pieces by all this and it showed. Xander kept his arm around the slender, shaking shoulders. His other hand formed a fist, fingers furled, the nails cutting crescent moons into his skin.

The pain was good, it cleared his mind, brought everything back into focus. Xander drew in a ragged breath and realised if this went wrong, *he* would have to be the one to destroy Angelus.

Doyle was out of the question and Xander wasn't prepared to let Spike suffer the agony of killing his Sire. He still only had the vaguest inkling of what this Sire/Childe thing was all about, but he knew its importance to his lover.

Xander kept his gaze pinned upon Spike, as though he could project his strength and support across the room. No matter what the outcome, Spike needed him and Xander knew he had to be ready.

The blond vampire set aside the bottle of powder and picked up the book, still cradling the marble mortar against his chest. Standing before Angel, he gave his Sire a deeply worried look, the older vampire smiled reassuringly and nodded. Spike began to chant.

To Xander's ears the words sounded like they were being spoken backwards at half-speed. Spike's voice had a faint tremor to it that he was pretty sure wasn't part of the script. Spike was scared - and that made Xander terrified.

At first nothing happened. Then Xander felt the hairs on his arms and the back of his neck begin to prickle. He tried to swallow but couldn't summon the saliva. He glanced at Doyle and gasped as a gust of icy wind suddenly seemed to blow into the room. The lamps along the wall flickered and shattered, spraying them in broken glass; leaving the room lit by the light from the kitchen.

Xander ducked involuntarily as the 'wind' seemed to travel right over his head. Doyle dived with him and the two exchanged wide-eyed, startled looks. Then it was gone and they stood up again slowly. Spike was still chanting, his expression strained, his features bathed in a brilliant blue-white light. The light encircled Angel, mist-like tendrils wrapped around his body. Angel was gasping, his face contorted in obvious agony.

Doyle started forward; Xander pulled him back even as the half-demon stopped himself. They both knew there was nothing they could do.

Angel gave a choked sob and fell to his knees. Spike stood over him, eyes narrowed with fear and sorrow. The younger vampire felt his Sire's pain as keenly as if it were his own and he struggled to go on. As Angel writhed in agony at his feet Spike chanted, his voice rising as he forced out the final few passages. At last he was done. He flung the book aside and dropped down beside his Sire.

With the last word of the spell the mist retreated; disappearing into the air around them with a final icy blast. Angel was doubled over, his head almost touching the floor. Doyle and Xander rushed forward, Spike pushed them back. "Wait," he ordered, his voice rough with emotion.

Green eyes were bright with tears. "A-Angel?" Doyle whispered, a world of hope in one word.

Angel raised his head, slowly, painfully.

Xander tensed, his fingers instinctively reached out and grabbed Spike's shoulder.

Spike looked carefully into his Sire's face. A concerned smile cut across his weary features. "You all right, peaches?"

That told the others all they needed. Angel was still in residence.

So had the spell worked?

Part Twenty-Seven

Spike broke the circle and helped Angel to his feet. The dark haired vampire swayed alarmingly. Doyle and Xander were by him in a heartbeat; supporting him at either side, they guided him over to the couch. He sank down onto it gratefully.

Angel's normally pallid complexion was bone-white; even his lips seemed bleached of colour, compressed into a thin, tight line.

"You all right?" Spike repeated.

Angel nodded weakly. "I....I'm good," he assured them - sounding anything but. He reached for Doyle, who grabbed his hand and sat beside him.

Xander voiced the question they were all wondering. "How do we know if it worked?"

"Demon-boy 'ere, gives him a good hard shag," said Spike crudely. Xander punched him on the arm. Angel and Doyle glared. Spike glared back. "What? It'd work."

Angel's scowl settled into an uneasy frown.

Doyle cleared his throat. "Maybe....maybe he's right....I mean, at least we'd be sure...." His voice trailed off awkwardly.

Angel shook his head. "No." Seeing Doyle's expression he hastily added, "Not because I don't want to. I do. You've no idea how much. But it's too risky. If this hasn't worked and I lose my soul." He left unsaid what the undoubtedly unpleasant outcome would be.

Spike smiled slyly. "I could always stay and supervise," he suggested. "Or, you could put some of them chains you've got hangin' about to good use."

Three pairs of eyes fixed on him. Xander's were wide and alarmed. "Chains?"

Spike addressed his lover. "No need to be so nervy, pet. I mean, think about it. It's bloody obvious. We chain brood-boy to the bed, the mick gives him a good going over. If it works fine; if it doesn't-"

"-I'm incapacitated," Angel finished. He looked thoughtful.

Spike grinned. "No offence, peaches, but if he's any good you should be that any way."

Doyle flushed. "How's this gonna work?" he asked.

Spike cocked an eyebrow at him. "If you have to ask, mate. You might be snuggling up to the wrong honey."

"Will!"

Doyle's flush deepened. "I can manage just fine thanks, *mate*. I meant, what's the plan? How are we gonna do this?" He glanced at Angel. "Are we going to do this?"

Angel hesitated, and then nodded - they shared a shy, hopeful smile.

Spike smirked. "It's straightforward enough. Peaches gets his kit off. Xander and I will do the honours with the chains. You just go make yourself nice."

"Why do you get to chain him up?" Doyle demanded without thinking. "I...I mean..." He floundered, and eventually settled for glaring in annoyance at the blond vampire.

Spike's smirk widened. "Because I know what I'm doin'," he looked at Xander and his smile became seductive, "and he's learnin' the ropes, so-to-speak. Aren't you, pet."

"Uh huh," said Xander, not sure if he should be turned-on or terrified.

--------------------

Xander handed Spike the second manacle and watched as his lover expertly locked it around Angel's wrist before fastening the other end to the metal ring embedded in the wall. The older vampire had looked faintly embarrassed when Spike had pulled the bed forward to reveal the heavy iron rings concealed by the bedstead.

Spike had just grinned knowingly. In a stage whisper he'd confided that since he and Angel had become 're-acquainted, they'd spent a fair amount of time re-establishing the boundaries of their relationship. Xander could only guess what that meant. Judging by the ease with which Spike chained Angel to the bed, vampire sex clearly had more facets than even his overworked imagination had conceived.

Spike double checked the chains and cuffs were secure. Angel's wrists were locked tightly above his head, his arms extended. It didn't look that comfortable to Xander, but Angel didn't seem to mind. The rest of the vampire's body was unfettered.....and perfectly nude. Xander was having trouble not staring. He was both disappointed and grateful when Spike pulled up the tapestry bedcover.

"Comfy?" Spike asked.

Angel tested the pull of the chains. "Fine," he responded curtly.

Spike nodded. "Well have fun, peaches." The younger vampire turned away and then hesitated. Suddenly he turned back - darting forward to drop a quick kiss upon his Sire's startled lips. He pulled back again but only for a moment, returning almost immediately to plunder Angel's mouth with second, fiercely desperate kiss.

Xander saw Angel's fingers stretch out helplessly and knew the vampire ached to hold his Childe.

Abruptly Spike tore away. Turning on his heels he marched past Xander without a word and left the room. Xander saw the anguish on his lover's face and part of him instinctively wanted to follow; however he hung back, needing to say his own goodbyes.

Up until this point it had been a case of - 'so far, so good'. This was different; this was the final step. Spike had quietly told him since they'd tampered with the original curse it would be unlikely to take effect again should the worst happen. i.e. if Angel's soul slipped free of its shackles now it wasn't going to hurry back.

Xander took an uncertain step forward. It made him uncomfortable to witness Angel laid out like this, bound and vulnerable. The chink of chains as the vampire shifted slightly made him shiver. Angel's dark eyes pulled him across the room and he sat down gingerly on the edge of the bed. Angel offered him a wan smile; Xander responded with an even fainter one. He ducked his head and began to fiddle unconsciously with the hem of his shirt.

"Take care of them for me?" Angel asked softly.

Xander's composure cracked. Tears welled up, burning his eyes and clogging his throat. He raised his head and the tears fell - fat droplets trickling hotly down his cheeks. He scrubbed at them harshly with his sleeve. "I...I promise," he said hoarsely. "Angel...I...I.."

"Sssh," Angel soothed. "Sssh. It's okay, Xander."

Xander nodded, tears still blurring his vision. He lay forward and wrapped his arms around the vampire's shoulders. There was a terrible finality to all of this. He was ashamed at losing control but the stress of the past two days had left him ragged. Angel's skin was marble smooth against his cheek. He turned his head and pressed his lips to it, breathing in the scent of the vampire's body, trying to store it away in his memory. He cursed his own morbidity, but couldn't fault it. Born and raised on a Hellmouth, he'd learned to expect the worst.

Eventually he pulled back. He wiped his face with his palm, feeling the sticky salt of tears. He sniffled loudly. A blush swept his cheeks and he stood up quickly. "I'd better go," he croaked. Angel merely nodded, but Xander could see the vampire's eyes were bright. He moved toward the door. As he reached it Angel called after him.

"Xander."

He turned back. Angel didn't say anything, his expression spoke for him. Xander gave a terse nod and left before he lost it totally.

Part Twenty-Eight

When Angel had staggered to his feet and declared his intention to take a shower, Doyle had occupied himself shifting furniture and sweeping up the broken glass. He'd avoided looking at Spike and Xander as the pair rooted thought a trunk full of chains and various 'tie me up, tie me down' regalia. He had however, sneaked a glance at Angel when the vampire exited the bathroom - gorgeously resplendent in a deep red bath robe.

He'd waited until the trio retreated into the bedroom, then he'd made a break for the bathroom facilities. He'd stripped and showered mechanically, too nervous to take any pleasure in the piping hot spray. Unhappy at the prospect of encountering Spike without his pants, Doyle dressed again afterwards, but discarded his shoes and underwear.

Wandering back through into the main room he'd paced up and down before settling on the couch. He silently berated himself for behaving like some skittish virgin. Okay, so maybe some of this was a little new - he'd never had to worry about the possibility of his lover turning evil after the act before - but it wasn't like it was the first time he'd ever slept with a guy.

Coming to L.A after things fell apart with Harry had opened his eyes, and his mind, to a lot of things. Then he'd been full of questions - who was he, *what* was he. He'd more or less stumbled across the answers. Haunting the various underground clubs and bars had brought him into contact with a strange, twilight world and the creatures that moved within it. He'd taken chances, risks, accepted invitations. Sex in the arms of a stranger was a shallow comfort, but a comfort nonetheless.

Course, he hadn't done that sort of thing for a while now. Not since this vision thing had descended on him and he'd found himself trailing a lone vampire back to it's lair. He still cringed at the memory of their first meeting; Angel stand-offish and snappy, him blathering like an idiot. The desire for a drink had consumed him the instant Angel had turned around...and he'd found himself confronted by a demon with the face of a seraph.

Doyle swirled his tongue around his dry mouth and wondered if a little sip of something now might be a good idea. He slammed back the thought as soon as it escaped. *NO*. There was no way he was going into that room smelling of drink. He didn't want Angel thinking he needed to get liquored up to do this.

He looked up as a sudden movement caught his eye. It was Spike, storming out of the bedroom with a face like thunder. Doyle's stomach dropped - what was wrong? The vampire barely spared him a glance as he stalked past.

"I'll be on the roof, send the boy up when he comes out."

Doyle blinked but nodded. Spike was gone before his dazed brain could formulate an answer. A minute or so later Xander appeared, his face somewhat pink and blotchy, tear tracks stained his cheeks. Doyle stood up, and almost fell back down as his legs trembled. "You all right?" he managed to ask. Xander gave him a wobbly smile and a quick nod. "Spike went up onto the roof, he says you're to go up."

Another quick nod and Xander turned to leave; he hesitated, dark brown eyes searching Doyle's face. "Doyle, I..." he began. Then he stopped, stumbling forward he enfolded Doyle in a brief, tight hug. Doyle recovered from his initial shock, wrapped his arms around the boy and returned it. When Xander stepped back his face was even pinker than before. He gave a small, embarrassed smile and hurried past, disappearing up the stairs to the roof. Doyle watched him go and then looked toward the bedroom. The door was open, he could just make out the end of the bed, lit by the warm glow of a lamp. Mood lighting. He smothered a half hysterical giggle and began to walk forward. Each step seemed to take unreasonable effort. This was what he'd wanted for so long, a fantasy he thought could never happen, now he was afraid his nerve would fail him. Part of him wanted to run. Fortunately the bigger part of him wanted to stay.

He had no doubts regarding his feelings. He'd told Angel he loved him, and that was certainly true. However, there was more at stake here than emotional exploration. If this all went right he would be the happiest half-demon on the planet - *any* planet. If this went wrong.....?

Doyle tried to push that thought out of his head. He wasn't going to be able to do this if his mind was entertaining the possibilities of losing Angel forever.

Another shaky step took him across the threshold. Keeping his eyes averted from the bed and its occupant, he closed the door. Drawing in a deep breath, Doyle slowly turned around...and the ability to think of anything deserted him.

Angel lay, bathed in the honey-glow of the lamp, his body concealed by the tapestry bedspread. Doyle traced the form beneath the blanket with wide green eyes. Following the outline of long, muscular legs and a lean, hard torso. His breath caught when he reached the powerful arms and shoulders that were stretched taut above the vampire's head. As he continued to work his way up Angel's body their gazes met. Doyle briefly registered deep brown eyes - then he blinked sharply and turned away.

He walked over to the tall chest of drawers and tried to kick start his brain into functioning. Unfortunately, his blood supply seemed to have travelled South for the evening. Quelling the urge to tear open the door and run, he began to undo the buttons of his shirt. His fingers fumbled the task and he stopped and stood, trying to calm the frantic beating of his heart.

"Doyle."

The ghosted whisper brushed over his body like a caress and he was unable to do anything but turn toward it.

Angel's expression held both fear and serenity. His features calm, his eyes afraid. Doyle felt a pang, realising the vampire could detect the wild pounding in his chest and the scent of panic clinging to his skin. He crossed the room - his eyes asking permission to sit down on the bed. Angel granted it with the tiniest of nods and Doyle sat.

He glanced nervously at the chains. "You know, I thought maybe we'd wait a couple of dates before getting into the fun stuff." He offered up a shaky smile with his words, to show he was teasing.

Angel smiled back slightly. Then his expression tightened. "Have you..." His voice trailed off.

Doyle finished the sentence for him. "Have I ever made out with a male vampire while he was manacled to his own bed?" He grinned bashfully. "That would be a no."

Angel looked concerned.

"But not to worry here," said Doyle. "I may not have the chains part down pat, but I get the rest."

A surprised blink.

"What? You thought I'd never..." Doyle gave a half-shrug.

Angel squirmed a little. "I...I wasn't sure. I mean I knew you'd...with women...but I've never-" he lowered his eyes and his voice "-I've never smelt another man on you."

It was Doyle's turn to be surprised. "You tried to check?"

"No!" said Angel quickly. Then he looked guilty. "Not....exactly..."

Doyle's smile widened. "Ease up on the guilt. I'm not mad. It's kinda flattering."

"It is?"

"Yeah."

Pleased and relieved, they shared semi-shy, foolish grins.

Doyle's expression suddenly turned serious. Without a word he slowly raised his hand and stroked his fingers lightly down the vampire's cheek. Angel closed his eyes and shuddered. Doyle drew his hand back and dark eyes re-opened warily.

Doyle's gaze was wondrous. "You are so beautiful," he murmured. He realised what he'd said and flushed, but had no desire to draw back the words that had slipped out unthinkingly.

"So are you," said Angel quietly.

It was on the tip of Doyle's tongue to make some joky comment, but then he looked at Angel and saw the truth in the vampire's steady gaze. He took another deep breath. "Think maybe I could get a continuation of that kiss we started?" he asked nervously.

"Please," said Angel, his voice held the taint of desperation.

Doyle leaned forward slowly. He kept his eyes open, watching Angel, until the moment their lips touched. Then he was lost and they drifted closed as he fell blindly into the kiss. Angel's lips parted gently, allowing him to steal between them, stroking his tongue around the cool moisture of the vampire's mouth. He demanded more, the kiss growing urgent as he forcefully took what he'd wanted for so long. Angel first surrendered and then responded with his own fierce need, crushing Doyle's lips with near bruising force.

Dizzy with longing, Doyle had to pull away finally to take a breath. "Hmmzt," he mumbled as he licked his lips, tasting Angel on them. Oh god, he was ready to come from one kiss. Muzzily he looked at Angel, who was straining against his chains, eyes wide and lust filled. Fears and reservations were forgotten, Doyle sat back and pulled his shirt over his head. He heard Angel's soft little whimper and grinned.

"So," he whispered teasingly. "How we gonna do this?" He stood up and began to unbutton his pants. Angel watched him raptly. Doyle felt a faint flicker of embarrassment as he stood nude before the vampire, but it vanished with the look of longing in Angel's eyes. He reached for the edge of the bedcover. "Can I?" Somehow it felt right to ask.

Angel nodded wordlessly.

Doyle took hold of the cover and carefully drew it back, draping it across the bottom bedstead. He looked up and his mouth went dry. "Oh," was the most intelligent thing that he could come up with. Suddenly other parts of him were taking over and it was getting harder and harder to think.

"Doyle." From somewhere far off sounding, a breathy voice called his name. "Doyle, please."

Doyle snapped out of his daze and responded to Angel's plea, sitting back down on the bed. The skin of his thigh brushed Angel's body, sending tingling sensations down his leg and up his torso. <*Oh god*> He reached out and let his fingers stroke across the smooth, hard curve of Angel's belly. The muscles jumped and twitched beneath his touch. He placed the flat of his hand upon the vampire and stroked upwards; along lean flanks toward well defined pectorals. A pale pink nipple beckoned him and he rubbed it between his thumb and forefinger. Angel arched up groaning. The response sent a trigger of desire rushing to Doyle's groin, so he did it again, teasing the hard bud until Angel writhed and whimpered. Doyle released the nipple, but only in order to lower his mouth to it.

"Doyle!"

He suppressed a smile and swirled his tongue around the stiff little point before drawing it between his lips - suckling hard. The taste of Angel demanded more of his attention and he ceased suckling to lathe his tongue wetly across the vampire's chest. Angel was gasping and moaning. Occasionally Doyle caught his name amongst the wordless utterances - it fuelled the fire raging beneath his skin.

The contact they had was suddenly nowhere near enough and he raised himself up to straddle Angel's body. They both groaned loudly as at last they lay skin to skin. Doyle rubbed himself across the vampire and almost came on the spot. He held himself still for a moment, trying to take back some measure of control.

"D-Doyle..."

He raised his head. Angel was looking at him, dark eyes desperate and near black with desire.

"Kiss me," the vampire hissed.

Doyle obeyed without hesitation, plundering Angel's mouth even as the vampire launched his own ardent assault. Their bodies began to move together, following a timeless rhythm. Doyle broke the kiss.

"Wha-?"

"Hssh." Doyle pressed his fingers to Angel's swollen lips. "I need something." He reached down to the floor and felt under the bed. He'd glared at Spike earlier, when the younger vampire had told him what he'd put there - now Doyle was prepared to promise Spike the unborn sons he'd never have. He felt around blindly until his fingers connected with the smooth chill of glass. He sat back up, holding a small vial of oil.

Angel's eyes widened. The vampire licked his lips feverishly, several times, before he spoke. "D-Doyle.. you don't have to-"

Doyle shut him up with a kiss. "Do yer want ta?" he asked.

A wordless nod.

"So do I, so shut up." Doyle smiled. Wiggling back he sat on Angel's thighs; the vampire's hard flesh brushed his buttocks as he moved and they both paused a moment to collect themselves. Breathing hard, Doyle uncorked the oil and poured a generous amount onto his hand. "Okay," he teased, "think pure thoughts." He wrapped his fingers around the rigid length that strained toward him.

Angel swore and slammed his head against the pillows. The muscles in his neck and shoulders stood out in sharp relief as he battled for control.

He wasn't alone in his struggle. The feel of Angel's hard member sliding slickly through his oiled fingers was leaving Doyle short of breath. Dizzily he leaned forward and flicked his tongue across the slit, tasting oil and bitter-sweet precum.

"*Oh god*, Doyle. Don't," Angel pleaded. Clearly the vampire was way too close to the edge to take it.

Doyle sat back. There would be time to explore other avenues later...he hoped. Such thoughts had no place here and now, and he dismissed them brutally. Taking another palm full of oil he worked it over his fingers and readied himself. Angel watched him silently. The vampire's lips had furled back slightly, panting - gasping for air he didn't need.

Doyle didn't prolong the moment. They were both too close. Kneeling up he shuffled forward and brought them both into position, he took a deep breath, steadying himself for the initial pain and willed himself to relax. Then slowly he lowered his body onto Angel's slick erection. The oil soothed its passage, but it had been a while, and he winced as the thick length breached the tight muscle. Pain washed outwards in ripples, he gripped Angel's body fiercely, hard enough to leave bruises in the marble flesh.

Then the pain began to fade, a deep intense heat stealing it away. The feeling of being stretched and filled was overpowering and he closed his eyes. When finally he was flush with Angel's groin, he re-opened them. He regarded the vampire with a heavy lidded green gaze.

"I want to touch you," said Angel, pulling helplessly on his chain.

Doyle moved, letting Angel feel the tightness that held him. "You are," he whispered. "Feel me?"

Angel let out a soft moan. "Yesss." He pushed upward with his hips, driving himself into the snug channel.

Doyle gave a sharp gasp. "Yeah," he breathed. "Just like that."

They began to move together, their gazes locked. The tempo built between them and Doyle felt his control slipping. <*No*> He fought it desperately. Then he watched as Angel's face shimmered and he found himself tumbling into wide gold eyes. He understood. His own half nature surfaced - the small spines scattering his face and shoulders. The rest of his skin flushed blue and with a sharp cry he came, his seed spurting out across Angel's chest.

Angel continued to buck upward, then with a deep growl he reached his own release, his cold seed flooding the body of his lover.

Doyle stayed, panting as he gathered his breath. With a little shudder he shed his demonic visage and sank down across the vampire's chest. He lay there for a moment, before whispering, "Angel?" He froze as he waited for the reply.

"Still here," a soft voice whispered.

Doyle forced himself to lift his head. Angel was still vampiric but the golden gaze was gentle. As he watched the features shifted and he found himself staring into dark eyes, wet with tears. "Maybe...Maybe it wasn't 'perfect' enough?" he asked, only part joking.

Angel shook his head. A silver tear slipped down his cheek. "It was perfect," he whispered.

Doyle held him as he wept; his own tears scalding the vampire's skin.

It had worked.

Part Twenty-Nine

Xander found his lover sitting on the low wall surrounding the rooftop. He walked over. "You okay?" he asked quietly.

Spike took a long tug on his cigarette and then flicked it away. "Fine," he replied breezily. He swung his legs around to face Xander. "They at it yet?"

"I don't know," said Xander awkwardly. "Should we...erm...go back down?"

"What, and sit moping about listening to them bump and grind? Not bloody likely." Spike hopped down off the wall; his blue eyes gleamed speculatively. "Me and you are gonna have a little fun of our own." He drew something out of his duster pocket.

Xander's eyes widened as the moonlight caught a glint of metal. "Handcuffs?!"

"I thought we'd start small," said Spike. He looked around him until his gaze focused on something behind Xander. "Go and stand against that wall," he instructed.

Xander glanced over his shoulder at the small, square roof opening. Numbly he walked over to it.

"Shuffle along a bit," said Spike, waving his arm to the right. The handcuffs jangled in his grasp.

Xander swallowed hard and stepped sideways until Spike held up his hand.

"Woah." The vampire strolled up. "Perfect," he announced. "Now, arms up, pet."

Wide-eyed gaze riveted on his lover, Xander mutely raised his arms. Spike reached up and snapped one bracelet around his left wrist. Xander shivered as the cold metal embraced his skin. The vampire threaded the cuffs around the pipe above his head and then clicked the other bracelet shut round his right wrist.

Spike stepped back to survey his handiwork. "Hmm, nice," he purred. Smirking appreciatively he ran his fingers down the buttons of Xander's shirt. "Maybe you're a tad overdressed though, eh."

Before Xander could blink, Spike withdrew a switch blade - seemingly from nowhere. He let out and undignified squeak. "Hey! Wa-wait a minute. What are you gonna do with that?" Spike tipped the blade back and forth. Xander's eyes followed it hypnotically.

"Don't worry, luv," said Spike reassuringly. "I'm just going to loosen your clothes a bit,"

Xander was far from reassured. "Angel's clothes remember! Angel's clothes." His warning was met with an indifferent shrug.

"Peaches, won't care."

Xander thought it was more likely a case of Spike not caring, but he wasn't exactly in a position to argue - and he guessed that was pretty much the point. He flinched back automatically when the blade skimmed his shirt and then held his breath as it nicked off the bottom button.

"S-shouldn't we have a safe word?" he asked hoarsely.

Spike looked amused. However his tone was serious as he asked, "Do you want to feel safe?"

Xander wet his lips. "No," he admitted honestly.

Spike's smile grew positively predatory. "Good," he said. Then he went back to his task. Buttons fell like loose change with each careful flick of the knife, pinging onto the flat roof and rolling away. Spike held one half of the shirt open with the point of his blade. His eyes roamed across Xander's bare chest.

<Touch me. Please touch me.> Xander begged silently. As though answering his unspoken plea, Spike reached out and stroked cold fingers across his belly, moving up to wander casually across his chest. Part of Xander's anatomy twitched in anticipation. He sucked in a sharp breath when Spike retraced the same path with the point of the knife. The vampire teased his skin with the blade. It was cold, but didn't cut~

~until Spike drew level with his left nipple. Then Xander felt a short stab of pain and a thick, scarlet droplet welled up to kiss the knife. Xander whimpered softly. The sound became a breathy moan as Spike leaned in and swept the droplet away with a quick flick of his tongue. Blue-gold eyes, smoky with desire, rose to meet dazed brown orbs.

"Sweet, pet," Spike murmured. "You're so sweet." The vampire kissed Xander tenderly, sucking gently on the boy's full bottom lip. When he pulled away his face shimmered; ridges formed in sharp relief around wide golden eyes.

Xander stretched forward, wordlessly pleading for another kiss. Spike granted the request. As they kissed, needle sharp fangs broke the delicate skin of his lips. Rich coppery heat flooded his mouth. Spike lathed his tongue across the tiny puncture wounds and then withdrew. Xander murmured in protest and Spike hushed him.

"Sssh. Patience, pet."

Cold lips ghosted across his torso and fastened themselves around a turgid nipple, drawing on it almost painfully. Xander closed his eyes and arched up onto the balls of his feet. Fangs scratched the sensitised skin. "Oh gods."

Spike responded to his cry by moving away from his nipple, sliding sinuously down his body to crouch in front of him. The knife flashed and the buttons of his pants danced across the roof. Xander opened his eyes as the cold night air struck his skin. Spike tugged the pants down around his ankles and nuzzled the black silk boxers (also Angel's), mouthing the outline of his erection through the cloth.

Xander bit down hard on his cut lip, letting the sharp pain take the edge off his arousal.

The switchblade made short work of his underwear and scraps of black silk fluttered down like moths, settling silently at his feet. Xander was hard and ready - if a little nervous. Spike gripped his thighs and licked his belly, running a line of kisses down toward his groin. Then the vampire placed a long, slow, wet lick along the length of his erection; Xander's eyes rolled back and he grabbed at the pipe for support. The blood had drained out of his hands and his fingers fumbled to hold it.

"Oh...oh...ahh," he murmured feverishly. English suddenly became a foreign language as Spike deep throated him. He tried to thrust into that cold, skilled mouth, but fangs grazed the head of his erection, warning him that Spike was still in the driving seat. Instead he continued to moan and whimper as the muscles of Spike's throat worked his rigid length, drawing him closer and closer to his release.

The vampire toyed with him a little, bringing him to the edge and then leading him away; until finally Xander begged to be allowed to come. The words spilled from his mouth as nonsensical ravings but Spike evidently understood. A tongue swept around his erection and then suckled hard, while long, clever fingers caressed the sac beneath.

Xander came with a shout that rang out across the rooftops; frightening a slumbering crow. It swept up into the night sky to find a more restful roost. He sank back, trembling against the cold, damp wall. His entire body felt boneless and bloodless, the cuffs cut into his skin as he hung from them.

"Easy, easy, pet."

Strong arms lifted him up and supported him. Xander lowered his head gratefully onto a leather clad shoulder. "Hmmzzt," he mumbled. When his heartbeat gradually slowed to a more normal rhythm he raised his head to meet Spike's bemused gaze. "That," he managed breathlessly, "was pretty good." Understatement of the century; his legs had the standing power of boiled spaghetti.

"So, we can play again?" Spike asked. The grin was wolfish, but the eyes held an uncertain edge.

Xander quickly set his lover's mind to rest. "Definitely." He nodded shakily. "We're ready and willing," he winced, "and one day soon we will also be able."

Spike immediately looked concerned. "You all right?"

"Fine," Xander assured him. "Just feeling in need of a little horizontal recovery time."

"Huh?" Comprehension cleared Spike's frown. "Oh, right." The vampire began to search through his pockets.

Xander watched him anxiously. "Do *not* tell me you don't have the key to these things."

"Okay," said Spike.

"Okay," Xander repeated slowly. "That means no, right? You don't have it?" His voice rose with alarm.

"Relax, it'll be downstairs somewhere. I'll nip down and look for it."

"Oh no," said Xander quickly. "You are not leaving me up here like this."

Spike looked thoughtful, then he darted forward and hoisted up Xander's pants. He stepped back. "Better?"

"*NO!*" Xander looked around him wild eyed. "What if someone sees me?"

"You're on a roof top, pet. No one up here but the birds, and I think we scared them off earlier."

Xander thought about it. "Okay, but hurry. No stopping off for a smoke or a quick snack."

Spike saluted sarcastically and strode away.

Xander's pants slithered back down around his ankles and he raised his eyes to the night sky. Someone, somewhere was testing him - that *had* to be it. A noise made him jump. "Spike?" There was no reply. He pulled uselessly on the handcuffs; wasn't there some other way of getting out of these things? A low growl to his left froze the marrow in his bones. <Okay, not panicking here. Nope definitely *not* panicking> Another growl, this time closer. <Okay, panicking. Panicking quite a bit.>

He yelped and jumped when something swung in front of his face. It was a hand. A hand extending from a battered leather sleeve. It held a small silver key. Xander sagged in relief. Then his mind prodded him sharply - there was no way Spike would have had time to go downstairs and fetch the key...Which meant.

"You bastard."

Spike grinned.

Xander tried to look pissed off with his lover. It didn't require too much effort. "You absolute and total *git*."

Spike tutted gently. "Language, pet."

"Don't 'pet' me you...you...." Words failed him and he settled for glowering at the vampire.

Spike dangled the key up again. "Maybe you should be nicer, pet."

Xander bit back a retort. He pursed his lips while he reined in his temper. In truth he was still basking in enough orgasmic after glow to forgive Spike just about anything. "You're not nice," he said finally.

Spike nodded. "True, but it was my turn to be 'not nice'."

The wheels in Xander's head whirled round at top speed. "So next time..?"

Spike smiled slyly. "You get to be the bad man."

Xander grinned. "That sounds like a reasonable deal." Spike unlocked the handcuffs and wrapped an arm around him when his legs wobbled. As they turned to go back down the stairs he suddenly remembered what was going on down there. "Do you think-"

Spike cut him off. "They're all right." There was no mistaking the certainty in his voice.

Xander didn't question how his lover knew. He accepted there were something's still beyond his understanding. Vampire ways took some getting used to.

But he was learning.

Continue to The Promise