Stripped Down To The Bone
by Crimsonsenya
Chapter One********************************
Let me see you
Stripped down to the bone
Let me hear you crying
Just for me********************************
“You soddin’ bastard!” Spike cried out as he punched Angel straight on the chin before he had time to react. Spike was absolutely mad, so freakin’ furious he shuddered. The punch had thrown Angel against the wall and he determinedly avoided the smaller vampire’s gaze, as Spike continued to rage.
“I so fucking hate you! Is there nothing sacred in this world for you? I can’t believe you did that!”
Spike paced the office in anger with his fists tightly clenched. He kicked the mahogany desk and Angel sighed when he heard the wood shatter. It seemed to calm Spike down a little, he turned his back to Angel and stared out the window. Angel had finally revealed to him that he had also a child of flesh and not just of blood. They’d spent all the afternoon in his office, and now the sun poured its last reddish rays over the city. Angel had explained everything: Darla’s return, Connor’s birth, the prophecies and kidnapping, Connor’s return from Quortoth and his part in Jasmine’s world peace and, at last, Angel’s deal to join W&H in exchange of Connor’s new life, and the not living happily ever after part which included, among other things, killing Sahjahn.
“I need you to help me.” Angel said quietly and hated to sound like he was begging, hated to expose himself to Spike this way. He wasn’t supposed to need Spike’s help. They had history, they had physical attraction, or, better said, they had carnal desire, but not need for help. However, right now Spike was the only one who could help. Hell, Spike was the only one, whom he could even turn to. He was the only one not involved in Connor’s life before his son’s new memories.
“Oh, I’ll help you, but it’ll cost you. Let’s see how valuable your son is to you. I want thousand dollars a day –no, let’s make it two thousand.” Spike turned to face Angel and folded his arms scornfully. Angel was relieved. He only had to get Spike to stay with Connor for a week. After that, Angel was absolutely sure Spike would stay voluntarily, because he knew his childe. Blood mattered to Spike. Why else would he have stayed in L.A. with the grandsire he always vigorously declared to dislike and viceversa?
“So, you promise to take care of him?”
“I promise.”
***********************************
Connor had swallowed the yang and yin patterned dove about an hour before. He was still lying on the couch, where he had lain down while waiting for the X to kick in, when his father (the one that looked the same age as Carlos) had busted in the club. He attacked Carlos: lifted him form the front of his white silk shirt, slammed him flat on the counter and pressed a curved dagger on his throat. The old man had some serious phallic issues going on with the knives, Connor thought amused.
“Look at me!” Angel shouted to the lawyer.
“You know, who I am, don’t you? You cokesnorting pimp!” Carlos’ nod was barely visible.
“Then you will be wise enough to stay the hell away from my son Connor, don’t you? Answer me!” Angel pressed the blade deeper.
“Yes.” Carlos muttered.
Two of Carlos’ thugs and three bouncers encircled the pair, but Angel hadn’t arrived alone. The first thug was knocked unconscious from behind and Connor saw Spike’s smirk. Meanwhile, Angel had come to Connor and bundled him up in his arms. At this point, Connor had been already rolling and feeling so happy, he could have kissed his father, but Connor merely leaned back his head to look at the neon lights, which had suddenly become much brighter.
*********************************
Connor sat on the edge of a king-size bed. Spike had dropped himself on his knees to untie Connor’s shoes.
“What kind of a name is Spike, anyway” He asked. The vampire lifted his relentless, predatory eyes.
“I used to kill people with railroad spikes. Originally, I was called William, William the Bloody.”
“Like Bloody Marys?”
Spike lifted his eyebrow. Connor started giggling and threw himself aback on the bed. Spike was his father’s grandchilde, Angel had told him in the car. That meant Spike was his nephew, kind of. But, because Drusilla, Spike’s sire had at one point also sired Connor’s mother, Darla, Spike was at the same time Connor’s uncle.
“We are like the Addams family.” Connor babbled and giggled more.
“Yes, we bloody well are.” Spike answered as if he had heard Connor’s reasoning.
Meanwhile, Spike had shifted Connor over to unbuckle the belt that held up his leather pants. Connor looked at Spike’s hair in the dim spotlight of the tablelamp. The x-ing still intensified the colours and Connor wanted to touch the rainbow falling over the vampire’s ears.“It was different before, merely bleached.” Connor lifted his hand, but he couldn’t reach Spike’s hair. The base colour was raven black but it had golden and dark red highlights. Connor lowered his hand to his side and started tapping the bed cover. That hair blended nicely in the clubs, where he had seen Spike. Connor doubted Spike had ever noticed or recognized him. Their encounter at W&H had been a short one, after all. From afar, he had observed Spike talking to people Connor knew were somehow linked to dealing drugs. Sometimes Connor saw him flirting with women, who seemed to melt in his company, and Connor was sure that the women he danced with were later ready to jump into Spike’s bed.
“It’s the bad boy syndrome.” Connor said aloud. Spike smirked to him his eyes gleaming in the dark.
“You like it too, huh?” Spike answered his eyes still fixed on Connor, which made him feel an excited tingle on the bottom of his belly and caused him to gulp unintentionally.
Meanwhile, Spike had unzipped his leather pants and pulled them down. No underwear. Spike gave him an approving nod and started to unbutton Connor’s shirt. It was black and completely transparent, exposing his nipples and beautifully toned upper body to all viewers. Connor knew this ‘cause Celia had chosen it for him and explained patiently, why Connor absolutely needed that particular piece of clothing.
Now Spike was close enough for Connor to tangle Spike’s strands in his fingers and he thought he saw a little smile light the vampire’s face. Boy, how Connor’s thoughts raced, and his heart seemed to pound more than usually on X. Spike had to be at least bi. No way any straight guy could undress another man with such ease and agility. But then again vampires weren’t so picky when it came to sex. Connor thought of Ann Rice novels: all those guys seemed to be queer.
Connor didn’t consider himself gay. Yes, he enjoyed having sex with men, but he also loved women. (Well, maybe he didn’t get very aroused by girls, though he had had a high school crush, Tracy, but that had been more like part of his normal memories, the false ones.) Oh, Connor loved curvy, glowing, self-assured women, like Celia, Carlos’s girlfriend, or the one who always left Connor a bag of 20 rolls of pure MDMA, for letting her watch, when he had sex with the blue eyed man with a huge belt buckle. The money he got from selling those drugs basically kept him in Chinese takeout. Her name was Leila or something and Connor was really grateful to her. Spike’s eyes seemed to be blue too, but of a more greenish shade than the other guy’s eyes or Connor’s own.
Spike took his hand and pulled him up. He started dancing naked in front of the vampire or ‘vampyre’. He said the word aloud. He had remembered the original Dracula novel, where van Helsing, Mina and the others were so terrified of the vampire and here he was being undressed like a baby by a blood-chilling nosferatu. Spike was noticeably amused and joined the spinning still holding his hand and guiding Connor steadily towards the bathroom. Connor didn’t mind, his body felt hot and sticky from the X. In the bathroom Spike pushed some buttons and lifted Connor in the tub. It was a state-of-the-art jacuzzi.
“This looks like the dashboard of a space shuttle.” Spike grinned.
The cool water sent pleasant shivers through his spine and Spike could probably sense his arousal.
“Music would be nice.” Connor said as he slid down to the bottom of the tub. Spike poured some bath gel to the water.
“Jean-Paul Gaultier. Nancy-boy surely is lavish of money as far as you are
concerned.” Spike laughed. He left the door open and opened the TV. VH1 played hits of the 80s. Spike smiled when he recognized the band.“Oh boy, those were the days”, he thought as he recalled Hanoi Rocks’ first gig at the Marquee club in London.
“1982.” He said quietly.
Spike returned to the bathroom. His job description was clear: spend a week with Connor in this penthouse Angel had rented specially for the occasion, and keep an eye on Connor all the times, while helping him to get over the after effects of drug abuse.
“You know I will stake you, if you let him run away.” It was the last thing Angel had said, when he left off. He knew the menace wasn’t empty, for fuck’s sake, he had tried to suffocate Wesley for kidnapping his son. Indeed, here they were, the Angel Junior and him, behind locked doors.Wonderboy or not, for Spike there was no doubt, whose son Connor was: the same moves, the same odour of cinnamon and pine trees, the same tickle on Spike’s skin that Angel’s presence caused. Spike couldn’t believe he hadn’t realized the connection for the first time they met, but, anyhow, he had been distracted with Illyria and Connor, he had had hots for the demon goddess! Spike had to admit the boy had balls.
Connor looked a bit different from his father though, his hair was lighter and he was shorter, about Spike’s height, but Connor was more slender than him. Spike realized that the skinny look worked as a perfect disguise for a demon destroyer, although the boy could eat more, and he also was quite pale for a Californian.
The water now reached his neck. Connor laid back his head, hands on the sides of the tub. He closed his eyes and moved his body to the music. The water felt lovely. He heard Spike shut down the running water and then retreat. The vampire stayed in the bathroom though. Spike was obviously supposed to baby-sit him 24-7. “Geez, Dad, you should really loosen up.” He said to Angel in his mind and then giggled aloud.
Dad.
He had used the word about three persons, and two times out of three it had been a lie.
A lie.
************************************
After confronting Sahjahn and getting his memory restored Connor had honestly believed he could go back to his former life and to his parents. But they were his parents only because a warlock had altered their memories, created an illusion of happiness and familiarity. His parents would never have given him a home, if they had known, who he really was, if they had known, what he had done. They would never have loved him; they would never have allowed him near their daughter, his little sister. It was all a lie.
You can’t be saved by a lie.
The gnawing sadness and fear had sneaked in his heart gradually: at first, he had simply tried not to think about the past, then he had begun to have weird dreams, which had slowly turned into dark and suffocating, bizarrely erotic nightmares. By the beginning of his internship at Vásquez & Garrido last summer he had nightmares every time he went to sleep. Consequently, he started to avoid his family. (“Sorry, Mom, I’m really busy at work and I’m still taking some exams.”)
Carlos, under whom Connor worked, was the junior partner at the law firm, though he had graduated only a few years before, because the senior partner was his mother’s cousin. Carlos seemed to like the research Connor did and he, indeed, had studied hard during his freshman year. V&G was primarily based in L.A., but their clients were mostly Columbian companies. (Yes, he had deliberately applied for a firm in Los Angeles to be near him.)
Not long after he’d begun his internship, Carlos had asked Connor to go out with him and his girlfriend, and as Connor had had nothing better (like sleeping) to do, he had complied. Connor had never been in a V.I.P. club. Hell, Connor hadn’t gone out much, and, legally, he shouldn’t have been allowed to enter at all, but Carlos had walked straight past the bouncers after tipping them, he’d greeted almost everyone and, soon, he had been surrounded with people. Connor had sat alone on a white leather couch quietly sipping his vodka tonic.
However, Celia had come over and sat next to him. She had black hear and green eyes like Carlos. Somebody could mistake them for siblings.
“You want some snow?” she had asked as she had taken a small silver case out of her handbag. The case was full of white powder. Connor wasn’t surprised to see the coke, in fact, he had almost expected to come up against drugs in a firm that worked for the Columbians. (Perhaps, he too had wanted to live in the belly of the beast.)
“You look so sad, Connor. A beautiful boy like you should never feel blue.” Celia had smiled to him. The image of a young girl lying dead on a dirty bathroom floor with a needle stuck in her arm had flashed before Connor’s eyes.
“No, thanks. I, I’m just going have a few drinks tonight.” Connor had said trying to sound cool and casual. She had made two short lines for herself and snorted them.
“You wanna go dancing?” she had asked.
They had danced to the trance music and Connor had kept dancing, when he lost sight of Celia. Suddenly, Carlos had pulled him out of the crowd.
“Celia told me you don’t like coke, but we really have to get you to smile. Are you in some trouble? You know, if you need any help, you just ask me. OK?” Carlos had gazed at him, straight in the eyes and held him in a tight grip.
“It’s a family thing” Connor had blurted out and felt himself flush red with embarrassment.
“Don’t worry Connor. I have something else you might like.” He had given Connor a small shiningly white pill with the pattern of a crown on it.
“What is it?”
“Pure 100% ecstasy, something that will ease your pain tonight.” Connor had still hesitated, but Carlos continued.
“You can be assured aspirin causes more damage than this.”
Carlos smiled when Connor took the pill. After half an hour, he’d begun to feel the rush. All his sorrow, all his anxiety, was gone. All the fears, that every night had invaded his painfully troubled mind. became only faint shadows in the back of his mind. Connor had known this beguiling experience was one more illusion, one more lie, but right then he didn’t care. He had felt the heat, and, when both Celia and Carlos came to French-kiss him, he had felt love.
Since that Friday, Carlos gave Connor ecstasy every weekend and Connor had sex with him, when Celia was too high on coke, which happened a bit too often in Connor’s opinion. (The days after were terrible. He felt like his head would explode and all the real and altered memories flashed in his mind like he was inside a surreal horror movie. He couldn’t spend the hangover day alone, so then he and Celia went shopping and later he ate ice cream until it made him sick. She never had hangovers, ‘cause she just sniffed some more dust. The following nights, he sat awake on his bed eyes wide open sensing every living being in the apartment building. No, he wouldn’t sleep, he didn’t want to fall asleep, even if his whole body had lost its strength and his eyelids felt like lead.)
Carlos also presented Connor to the firm’s clients, some of who wanted to have sex with him too. When Connor sold the drugs they gave him to the bartender, he could buy himself new more party-oriented clothes and even put some money in the bank. At the end of the summer, he called his parents:
“Mom, Dad, I’ve decided to take a year off the college and make some money. I’ve been offered the chance to continue my internship for a whole year.”
Chapter Two**************************.
Oh what a sacrifice
All of my pain won't fade away
So who's so special now
No one's more special, more than me****************************
Connor opened his eyes startled. The water had already turned lukewarm. How could he fall asleep naked with a vampire in the same room? As a matter of fact, he could sleep peacefully only when he was tripping. Supposedly, his special constitution had something to do with it. Connor rose from the water: his skin was wrinkled and he felt dizzy, when he bent to push the empty button. He stepped out of the tub and took a quick shower without even glancing at Spike, but he could sense the vampire standing nearby and holding dry towels. Connor stopped the water and Spike was at once behind him to wrap one towel round his waist and to give him another one to dry his hair. Then Spike grabbed him firmly by the elbow and led him to the door, which was actually a good idea, because the dizziness had worsened.“Oh, no!” Connor gasped, when he felt his stomach churn. Spike held his hair back while he bid farewell to the hot beef and rice he’d eaten before taking the X. Afterwards, when he tried to wash his teeth he began to shake and his arms cramped. In the end, Spike almost had to carry him to the bed.
Spike went to the kitchen for some mineral water. After checking the cupboards and drawers he found straws.
“Has Angel been watching soddin’ Martha Stewart, or how else in God’s green earth had he been able to provide the apartment with everything they could possibly ever need?” Spike thought to himself. His damn sire had even bought onion blossoms and Whetabix for him.
Too restless for the moment being, Connor couldn’t go back to sleep. Instead, he had put on a pair of black silk boxers and kept circling the bedroom twitching and shaking ‘till Spike came back. Connor drank the offered water in almost one gulp and continued to pace. Spike let his instincts lead his behaviour.
“I need you to help him however you can.” Angel had told him with that glance, the one that he had worn a long time ago, every time he had said: “I don’t care what you do to calm Dru down.”
Suddenly, Connor felt Spike’s arms around him and his smooth chest against Connor’s shoulder blades. He felt Spike’s lips pressing light soothing kisses on his neck and Connor’s hands cramped again, but now he could wrap his fingers around the vampire’s wrists to ease the pain. They climbed to the bed and Spike kept kissing and licking Connor’s back and neck until he sensed the boy’s body relax and his cock harden. Then he slipped his hand under Connor’s boxers and started to stroke him. Very tenderly at first, but then, when he felt the tension build up in Connor’s body, he tightened his grip, until Connor came with a moan and a cry. Spike really hoped sex would calm this child too.
The vampire’s cool body had been comforting and safe, instead, Spike’s kisses and his hardness pressed on Connor’s bottom very enticing and arousing. His body shuddered, when he felt Spike leave him, but Spike only went for a towel to clean him up. He saw Spike standing completely naked, his pale marble skin glimmering, the blue veins in his arms and in his… He was a good size… And Connor had seen enough to make comparisons. His vision had gotten blurred, but he wanted to return the favour. He pulled himself on a sitting position and looked at Spike’s unfathomable eyes. Quickly, before Spike could resist him, Connor covered Spike’s shaft with his mouth while his hands caressed the vampire’s lower back, bottom and thighs. Spike gasped for unneeded air and drowned his fingers on Connor’s hair.
“Where in the bloody hell had the kid learned to suck and lick like that?” Spike thought and couldn’t hold himself back very long. Connor swallowed him in unhesitatingly. Later Connor covered Spike with his lithe body like a warm blanket and Connor fell asleep like a baby with his cheek resting on Spike’s chest.
“A damaged angel,” the thought flickered in Spike’s mind “he is like a bird made of glass: hard yet so breakable.” Spike breathed in his scent and sighed. The first night was the easiest part. He’d had enough dealings with junkies to know that the inferno would not be unleashed until the following days.
*********************************
There is only one thing that changes everything –death.
Everything else is just a lie.
A lie.
Death.
Dead.
When Connor woke up his mouth was dry like sand in the desert, and the sand wasn’t golden, but crystal white. Connor’s puffed eyes itched as he wandered aimlessly in the wilderness. Though he was never alone, he could not escape all those eyes that always saw him stripped bare of all the lies and excuses regardless of how well he tried to hide or wear disguises. All those hollow eyed skulls and bodies covered with decaying flesh danced around him and grinned.
“You don’t belong, you don’t belong! You are the Prince of lies, you are the Prince of lies!” The sorrow and solitude flushed over him. Maybe, if he ripped his heart out, it would stop hurting.
“We slept over twelve hours, luv.” Connor flinched as Spike interrupted his thoughts. He was covered in sweat.
“You want some breakfast?” Spike asked.
“I would like to take a bath again.”
The tub was refilled and Spike had retreated to his position of the night before, when they heard a weird beeping sound that repeated itself. Connor opened his eyes.
“That’s a cellular phone.”
Spike disappeared in the bedroom. He came back with a grin holding the phone.
“Bloody hell. It’s Angel. I’ll be right back.”
Bloody.
Blood.
Blood of a virgin.
Dead.
I guess I really am your son ‘cause I’m dead too.
I can’t feel anything.
Dead.
He had been dead. Now he wasn’t: he felt everything. His father was dead. His mother was dead, because he was not. Holtz was dead, because he had failed to kill his father the first time they met. Kill. The employees at Wolfram & Hart were dead. Cordelia was dead. The virgin was dead. Jasmine was dead. The people Jasmine had devoured were dead. The bloody pulp of a man on the roof was dead. Connor was not dead.
Blood.
Blood on Holtz’s neck. Blood on Cordelia’s stomach. Blood in Angel‘s fridge. Blood on Connor’s face, when Angel had hit him.
Blood.
His own blood crashed inside his veins black like the ocean in the night. He was not dead.
Dead.
He had seen razorblades the night before, right there beside his toothbrush, and he found them. They were for him. Vampires didn’t need to shave. Sharp cold blade cutting away his memory. Back in the tub he cut his wrists open on both of his arms. Cutting was something he remembered, but he couldn’t remember, how many demons he had killed and flayed... He should have cut his neck, but then he could not have been able to watch the steady flow of dripping blood.
Blood.
He fixed his eyes on the tattoo carved over his heart. When he had seen the picture at Celia’s apartment for the first time, he knew he would carry it forever. The long-haired man with loving eyes and a sad smile pierced Connor’s heart, and when Connor saw his, he was blinded: A burning heart circled with thorns and run through by a sword. Now, when the tattoo revealed Connor’s heart to everyone, there was at least one thing in his life that was not a lie. Celia was religious. She made a cross in front of the picture every time she left home. “This is the emblem of eternal love and sacrifice.” She told him. On Sundays, Celia went to confess and stay for the mass. She took Connor once to see the heart in a much larger picture.
This is my blood, which is shed for you.
Shed. Kill. Sacrifice. Blood. Blood of a virgin. My blood is not virgin. Let it be the sacrifice.
You can’t be saved by a lie.
Let my blood be the truth… Let my blood wash me clean… Let my blood save me…
Don’t let my death mean nothing.
Mom… It’s cold…
*********************************
Spike roared fiercely and dragged Connor out of the red water. He grabbed two hand towels and darted to the bedroom with Connor in his arms.
“Bloody hell! Please, God, fuck, don‘t let anything happen to him!” Spike didn‘t know whether to curse or to pray. He’d been talking to Angel for ten soddin’ minutes. Connor‘s pulse was faint, but he was still alive though unconscious and Spike knew that the kid was hard to kill. He made temporary bandages from the hand towels and run off to the kitchen for the first aid kit, a small bottle of mineral water and a bottle of Four Roses. He tended the wounds first and then started to slap Connor in the face.
“Wake up, Connor! Come back! Fuck!”Connor felt like swimming back to the surface. When he opened his eyes Spike made him drink the whole bottle of mineral water as he drank long gulps of bourbon himself.
“You soddin’… stupid… weasel. I fucking hate you!” Spike shouted. “If you had died, I would have had to jump off the roof. God, I‘m not leaving you alone anymore, not even to speak with the bastard on the phone.” Connor lowered his gaze, nauseated.
“I’m sorry.” It was a faint whisper.
“If you ever do this again, there won’t be anything left of you to cut” Spike answered him angrily.
“Fuck,” he sighed and rolled his eyes “now, I’ll have to clean this mess before we can get anything to eat.”
********************************
I really do love you, Connor.
So what are you gonna do about it?
Prove it.
Connor sat by the kitchen table with a mug of hot cocoa between his hands. He observed Spike cooking chicken soup. The vampire had drunk his pig’s blood earlier and now he was smoking his third cigarette. Spike was wearing his clothing of choice, black jeans and a t-shirt. He’d turned on the radio, so they were listening to Jimi Hendrix.
Angel had declared his love for him many times, but what had he done? The jerk had thought another lie, although a sweet one, was best for his son. But lies tend to come back to haunt people, like they had come back to him. The mere thought of the avalanche of memories that had swept over him before killing Sahjahn made Connor furious. How many times he would have to start and adapt all over again? And what had his father done –to prove his love– when Connor had finally found a way to endure the pain, the guilt? He had destroyed Connor’s world, cut his ties to the people, who helped Connor to bear the agony that was named –completely– inappropriately life.
“What do you know about me, Spike?”
“Well, the things that have happened between you and Angel: Holtz’s death, him at the bottom of the ocean, which I think was genius, but you’ll have to remind me not to piss you off…”
“What do you know about my new life?”
“After Jasmine the big poof had you and all his friends mindwiped, but then the little incident with Sahjahn messed up your new life, which, since the confrontation, includes, for instance, law school, drugs, wild sex and parties. Do you want me to go on?”
“And Angel?”
“Peaches says he loves you”
“He has an extraordinary way to show it or a way to dodge showing it.”
“Would you like him to be here with you, when you’re bloody depressed after x-ing for six months?”
“No.” Connor answered bluntly.
“Alright, there’s proof for you.” Spike stubbed the butt on the ashtray on the sink.
“This is the first time he’s taking care of you without lying to you. Now, he, at least, respects the fact that, what you need most is both love and truth, and, after you get over your drug of perfect happiness, courage to face your past.” He lit a new one and turned back to the soup.“He sent you.”
“Yeps. That’s a proof of his love too. We go way back and we’ve spent a great part of the last century fiercely disliking each other, but Angel acknowledges that you and me share the same blood and that, despite our long-lasting rivalry, you need be with your true blood and kin. You may not be happy with the idea that your only real relatives are friggin’ vampires, but it’s time to face the truth, luv, however painful it might be.”
Spike’s little speech made sense. Connor had nothing to loose. If Angel had finally decided truth was the name of the game, Connor could play along as well. They couldn’t keep him here against his will, he could find a way out, if he wanted. The thing that scared him was that he had no other place to go for the time being, he could not go back to Carlos and Celia. Angel had surely taken care of their friendship (one more thing to hate him for, a voice in his head whispered). He would probably get whacked out if he tried and he didn’t want to go back to his fake parents either, good people as they were. Why would Spike stay with him if he disliked Angel?
“Do you even like me?” Connor asked him. The cigarette dropped from his fingers and he must have looked utterly astonished.
“I like what I see so far. Even if I didn’t, it wouldn’t matter. I’d be here…”
“Because we are same blood?” Connor thought of what Spike had just told him.
“Yeah, and ‘cause I made a promise.” Spike said quietly turning to the soup to not show the kid his face.
“The food’s ready” he muttered.
**********************************
Spike was cooking every meal for Connor. He would definitely come up with some form of payback to his grandsire for turning him into a soddin’ mamabear. Spike soon found out Connor had a similar taste for hot and spicy food, so he would add chilli peppers to every dish. Sometimes, Connor did not throw up the food and then they celebrated the miracle of digestion with beer.
“I didn’t know that the vampires were good cooks.” Connor remarked.
“I’ve watched a few cooking programs since the invention of TV.” He smirked.
Being forced to immobility made him smoke too much and Connor asked him, if he could smoke too.
“Your daddy will kill me, slice me into tiny pieces and feed me to the pigs. But, if it soothes your nerves, then go ahead” Spike said and gave him a packet, because the kid really could use some tranquilizers and Spike had always considered himself restless. Connor either twitched his hands, or tapped something with his fingers, or moved his feet, or bit his fingernails, or shifted his position endlessly. Spike wasn’t allowed to call him kid either. Compared to Spike’s one hundred plus few decades Connor was a kid, but Spike kept his mouth shut, which was very unusual of him and a certain sign he had started to care for the brat. As if he couldn’t identify himself with Connor’s contradictory feelings regarding the Big Poof: both his distrust and his need for Angel’s approval.
Chapter Three
**********************************
But if you're in the eye of storm
Just think of the lonely dove
The experience of survival is the key
To the gravity of love***********************************
They mostly spent their days watching television or movies Angel had equipped them with. First The Godfather trilogy, then Sergio Leone’s Dollars trilogy, then a few Kurosawa movies from Seven Samurai to Ran, which they both liked best. Spike could perfectly understand, why X-men and X2: X-men United caused Connor’s eyes to sparkle. Finally, they watched the original Star Wars trilogy and Empire Strikes Back three times a row, and every time Spike could sense Connor swallow back his tears. When Connor realized that Spike had noticed his weak spot, he angrily stuffed five entire Mars-candy bars in his mouth, and after a while he ended up puking in the bathroom again.
Connor remembered well the first time he’d been to the movies. And he didn’t think of the Disney animation he was supposed to have seen at the age of six, but the mindless action flick with lots of showy explosions he had watched with Angel, Fred and Gunn. Yet, he could consider the real cinematic experience almost as fake as the created one, because most of his company at the time didn’t recall it.
After the first couple of days, even if Spike never left him out of sight, Connor became grateful for the vampire’s presence: Spike was in good mood all the time: he cracked jokes and handled Connor’s vomiting with irony. Most importantly, Connor did not have to sleep alone. When he woke up shaking in the middle of the night after some new distorted nightmare, Spike always stayed awake with him, holding him and stroking his hair like he was a scared child, which, of course, was embarrassing as hell for Connor in daylight.
Spike felt a lump in his throat every time he looked at Connor’s eyes. Sad and wounded, they begged for unconditional love and acceptance, though the kid tried his best to hide the vulnerability and bewilderment behind the decadent young man act. Spike damned Angel in his mind for hurting him, but the old ponce had always had a gift for destroying things of beauty. Hell, he had made an art form of breaking and twisting everything that was fragile and precious. The wanker had driven his own son to the verge of suicide, and the mental picture of Connor lying limbs spread in a pool of his own blood woke up a mixture of old rage and fear in Spike, which almost made him shift to gameface. What he couldn’t understand was, how in the bloody hell a halfwit tart like Darla and a conceited hedonist like Angel had been able to procreate such an intelligent, well-mannered, warm-hearted, loving and caring son.
**********************************
Whenever Connor was not feeling utterly down from the X withdrawal, they discussed politics, philosophy and pop culture sometimes Connor even told him about things he had done with his family, especially with his kid sister, the false one, or he shared anecdotes of his time at law school. Then Connor asked Spike about his life in L.A. He even seemed interested and Spike couldn’t remember the last time someone had bothered to actually listen to him.
“You like the Beats too?” Connor asked him amazed, when he saw him read Bukowski’s Love is a dog from hell.
“Yeah,” he shrugged “they’re fairly antiestablishment.”
“Fairly? What do you mean? The Beat movement is the most rebellious thing to happen in American literature, like ever!” Connor’s eyes started to sparkle.
“Well, the Beats are pretty lame compared to the French avantgarde and the Italian futurists of the 1920s. I remember all those art exhibitions, performances and happenings: they were so utterly chaotic nobody ever realized if Dru and I took a few snacks. Once they had all their performers dressed in white tulle curtains acting as a congregation for a naked woman with a mitre, who in turn acted as priest and beat lids of kettle and tooted a car horn.” Spike stretched his arms on the back of the couch as he continued.
“Meanwhile, one guy went to shake hands with all spectators and another one took everyone’s left shoe off and those who didn’t comply got cold tea poured on them. Bloody hell, those surrealists revelled in anarchy, or in ‘total disobedience’ as they called it. And the sex…” Spike reminisced as Connor stared him wide-eyed sneaking closer, until he was almost sitting on Spike’s lap.
“The Beats had their bebop sessions and their orgies too” Connor defended his favourite literary movement and Spike thought, that the pout on his lips was way too cute for a vicious demon killer.
“Those guys were pussy whipped compared to the surrealists and dadaists, believe me.” Spike provoked him intentionally. He wanted to admire all those swift changes of expression on the kids face. “Those lashes could be used as eaves for a royal palace.” Spike thought and, suddenly, Connor’s open mouth was an irresistible invitation to kiss and Spike lowered his lips. Connor flinched before responding, but the kiss was good and honest, and, somehow, Spike wasn’t surprised of the hunger that lay beneath. He was the one to break the moment: he gently nudged Connor back on the couch and started looking for his cigarettes.
Sometimes, Spike even managed to make the kid laugh, but he knew Connor was still very depressed and the nightmares didn’t let him sleep in peace. The fact of having to live behind locked doors was also irritating Connor. Luckily, they could smoke on the balcony and watch the lights of the city by night. Spike also noticed that Connor loved to sit on the windowsill and rest his eyes in the distance. One thing seemed to especially amuse him –daytime drama. Spike watched Passions every day, and once Connor had received an update on all important plot twists, they both agreed that Theresa was sexy as hell and that they could smack Ethan for not realizing she was the woman of his life. Connor was also very sorry for not being able to meet the magical Timmy doll.
Connor was confused. This vampire, this demon that took care of him, didn’t feel unfamiliar at all. His presence was comfortable and Connor could not help but let his guard down. After all, they shared the secret of his failed suicide attempt and Spike never mentioned it again, something that Connor appreciated. He didn’t want to defend his actions. That morning cutting his wrists open had felt like the only thing left for him to do, but now a few days later Connor was happy that the wounds on his skin healed faster than the wounds in his heart.
All the time, Connor could smell and sense Spike hovering around the apartment, yet it was not intruding or embarrassing. Actually, he had a constant pleasant tingle near Spike and kissing him had been bristling. Although Angel was Spike’s grandsire and they were the only vampires with souls recorded in history, Connor could not imagine two more different people. His father was, undoubtedly, the champion, the hero, the sun around which all the insignificant planets revolved. There was always the knowledge that if the sun burned up it would turn into a huge black hole capable of sucking everything to eternal darkness. Spike, on the other hand, was like a lush jungle, unfathomable, but there was a calm centre in him like a clear- watered lake.
“He is a mystery –like me,” a voice said in the back of Connor’s head.*******************************************
It was the fifth or sixth day. Connor had lost count. He’d spent the entire night tossing in the bed, and when he’d finally fallen asleep he had dreamt of a lean alabaster body that had been entwined in another, more muscled but equal in beauty. Consequently, he woke up with a hard on, which increased his unease. How long was he supposed to be here for? Angel called Spike on the cellphone every day and Spike told him that Connor had eaten and was not dying of thirst and that Connor hadn’t run away or killed Spike or vice versa, but Spike never spoke with Angel about when he was going to be allowed to actually leave the penthouse. Connor was fed up (he had really gotten used to going out to the clubs or to hunt vampires, when he was not high and needed to blow off some steam), but then he came up with the idea of experimenting with how long Spike’s patience would last. Connor knew that a twenty-year-old law student was supposed to behave more maturely, but he was bored to death.
Connor began the experiment by spreading all the clothes Angel had acquired around the apartment. Not getting any reaction from Spike he opened every door and drawer he could find making as much noise as possible plus he turned on the radio at maximum volume. Yet, Spike merely sat by the kitchen table reading a book and chain smoking. Next, Connor decided to open every bag, box, jar or bottle of groceries in the kitchen and leave them opened on the encounter. Spike didn’t even bother to lift his eyes, but Connor was persistent. He sat opposite of him and began to tap the table with his fingertips and the floor with his foot.
“What are you reading?”
“Poetry.” He added. “Gingsberg’s Howl and other poems.”
“What time is it?”
“Two o’clock. You want something to eat?”
“No. I’m not hungry for food.” Finally, he got some action. Spike lifted his scarred eyebrow.
“How did you get that?” Connor pointed the scar.
“From a Chinese slayer during the Boxer rebellion.”
Connor kept tapping his fingers.
“There are three empty bedrooms in this apartment. Couldn’t we use one to spar a little?”
“Thought you weren’t in to the fighting anymore.” Spike noted.
“I can always change my mind, can’t I?”
“That’s fine with me.”
They blocked and dodged each other’s punches for a while. Then they moved to kicks and locks. Connor had to admit that Spike was fast and agile and he had a very distinct almost feline fighting style that differed from his father’s. After half an hour they both were excited and panting. And Spike wasn’t even supposed to need breath. Connor removed his shirt ‘cause now he’d gotten a new idea. He let Spike straddle him in order to get him pressed against his crotch and then he moved his hips upwards to see if the friction created any sparks and BINGO! Spike’s response was immediate and he became so dazzled that Connor managed to reverse their position and end up straddling Spike instead. Now he was steely too. He held Spike down by the shoulders and was about to lower his lips to kiss Spike’s, when Spike punched him hard in the armpit and threw him across the room. “Damn it!” Connor gasped. He should have known better not to piss off a hundred-plus-year-old master vampire, but Spike had liked what he did. He was absolutely sure.Spike burst out the room and slammed the door behind him. He was angry to his body’s betrayal. Connor and he hadn’t had sex after the attempt of comfort at the first night. He didn’t expect to ever again, but spending more time with the boy and getting to know him better, meant that he began to fall for him and, consequently, that caused undesired reactions in his body. The last time he had enjoyed sparring this much had been with Buffy, and the fact that Connor smelt like his grandsire didn’t help Spike at all, on the contrary, the only thing that ever had worked between him and Angel was sex. But he didn’t want to shag the kid just to ease his boredom. One thing the Soulful Spike had right was, that he wasn’t going to be anyone’s toyboy ever again.
Spike sat on the couch drinking whisky, when Connor came to the living room.“Why don’t we watch a movie?” Connor tried to sound casual, but the shifting of legs gave away his nervousness.
“Whatever.” Spike said nonchalantly. Connor inserted the last Dirty Harry movie ever produced.
“Man, my father must be a Clint Eastwood fan.” It was a lame attempt to joke. He sat next to Spike on the couch and inhaled the familiar scent of tobacco, whisky and leather.
“Not every Tom, Dick and Harry own a mighty gun like that.” Connor commented on the Magnum44. Usually, Spike was the one to include sexual innuendo in normal conversation. Connor could not decipher his own behaviour. He had never made a pass on a guy, they had always come to him. For some reason he wanted to get under Spike’s skin, wanted to stir that peaceful lake. Connor shifted closer.
“Spike must sense my arousal”, he thought, but Spike seemed to focus entirely on the film. Connor slipped his left hand under the tank top Spike had worn for sparring to touch his velvety vampire skin. With his right hand Connor began to stroke the front of Spike’s sweats and he felt Spike pulsate under his palm. Soon, Connor shivered and groaned as he started to smell his own musk mixed in Spike’s. Yet again, Spike fled. The vampire dumped him without saying a word, without even glancing at him! Connor heard him enter the bathroom and run water into the basin.
Perhaps, he should have given up, but Connor was never one to quit. He followed Spike and caressed the muscles of his bare back, while Spike rinsed his face with cool water. Spike stretched and carefully dried his face, and in a blink of the eye Spike had him pinned against the tilewall one hand pinching Connor’s nipple and the other one gripping roughly his waist. Spike’s tongue was claiming Connor’s mouth and their crotches ground against each other. When Connor needed air, Spike retreated, his eyes flashed yellow.
“No.” He said bluntly.
“What!” Now Connor lost his temper. “What are you playing at?”
He had sensed Spike’s arousal all afternoon and he had made Connor too yearn for more. Spike couldn’t possibly stop now, Connor would not allow him to. (He knew this was his own fault, but, nonetheless, he had to get even with Spike.) Connor tried to sound like Angel as much as possible, when he punched Spike in the face:
“Why did you stop? Were you afraid your dick would drop dead if I teased you a little bit more?” He regretted his words at once, when he saw Spike change to gameface. The vampire dragged him to the bed with such speed and strength that Connor barely realized he was laying flat on the cover and that Spike had torn off his sweats. Connor tried to wriggle but Spike’s grip on his neck was like iron.
“It’s useless to fight.” Spike hissed to his ear between his fangs.
Connor had made Spike’s demon, who was always so eager to claim and possess, furious with his teasing and Connor’s imitation of Angel had been the last straw, but, now, he had Connor writhing naked on the bed and under his will. Finally, his soul kicked in, and Spike thanked the Powers that, instead of fucking the boy raw until he was unconscious, Spike sunk his fangs on Connor’s neck. First he sucked long, hard gulps, but when Connor ceased struggling and whined quietly, he slowed the pace, until Connor was totally relaxed his cheek resting on the pillow. Spike stopped the draining, but kept his fangs in Connor’s flesh and hands on his shoulders for a long time.
When Connor fell asleep, Spike finally released him. The blood tasted like finest cognac and his every cell was filled with Connor’s powerful life force.
“Sireblood,” said the voice in his mind. “Intoxicating and arousing family blood.”
“Angelus, you bloody bastard!” He thought not knowing, whether he should be furious or enthralled. “You knew this could happen, perhaps you even expected this to happen. Connor may never be able to trust you completely, so you decided to give me to him.” Spike had lost this battle, and the whole damn war against Angel. One thing was sure, now he’d never leave Connor.
Chapter Four*************************************
Perfection is finally attained not when there is no longer anything to add but when there is no longer anything to take away, when a body has been stripped down to its nakedness.
*************************************
Look into the mirror of your soul
Love and hate are one in allSacrifice turns to revenge and believe me
You'll see the face who'll say:
I love you... I'll kill you...But I'll love you forever
*************************************
The sun was setting, when Connor woke up. He stared his reflection in the bedroom mirror. The mark on his neck had almost completely healed. He traced his hand from the neck down to his bare chest and stomach. Before, where he would have been repulsed at the thought of a vampire –a filthy demon– touching him, he now felt utter intimacy.
Spike’s bite had been the most erotic experience of his entire miserable life: the sharp pain, the pull, the floating, first the heightening and later the dulling of all senses. Connor wasn’t sure how to handle this new sensation of bonding and connection: as if the puzzle pieces of his life had, after all, found the polygonal shape it fit perfectly in. The thing that confused him most was that his own blood seemed to recognise the sensation. His blood could sing some ancient song his conscious mind had no idea of, but he had a presentiment that, if he could drink from Spike in return, he would quench a hunger that was impossible to satisfy in any other way. Suddenly, Connor smelt the heated blood scent still hanging in the air. Then he remembered something else.
“Dad! He’s going to freak out…”
He dressed swiftly in a pair of Spike’s black jeans and a burgundy turtleneck shirt he found on the floor before sneaking into the kitchen. The two vampires were discussing some big bad client in low voices over a cup of blood. They turned in unison when Connor entered the room.
“You’re up.” (Had they been practising that?)
Connor grabbed a Dr. Pepper from the fridge. He could sense the two pairs of eyes on his back.
“Dad, I want to go out,” he said walking over to the vampires.
Angel glanced at Spike, unsure.
“I think it would be good for him.” Spike supported the request.
“Ok,” Angel said. ”But we come back here and we don’t let you out of sight.”
“Anywhere you want to go, after you’ve cleaned the mess you made in the kitchen?” Spike grinned.
************************************
The Hoover dam was as enormous as he remembered. The stars twinkled in the black sky, but in the darkness it was not possible to dwell on the contrast of sandy rocks rising high above the blue water. Connor just stared in the abyss and listened to the roaring.
He had seen a vulture encircling the sky.
“Will I learn to fly, if I drop down?” He wasn’t sure, if he had actually said it in his false memory of a summer vacation or was it something he could have really said. The pictures of his happy life became more faded each passing day.
“It would be so cool to jump from here with a rope.” Spike broke the silence. The two vampires were leaning on the railing at Connor’s left.
“Yeah, and get smashed against the dam.” Angel shuddered his head.
“We will jump someday, Spike.” Connor said quietly. Again he felt the two pairs of piercing eyes, but he also sensed Spike’s astonishment.
“I…” Spike moved away from angry Angel, who only muttered
“Maybe we should drive back to L.A.”
*************************************
“You can go now. The money is transferred to your account.” Angel had said to Spike earlier in the kitchen, after Spike had given him the obviously abridged and censored version of Connor’s little mind game. He’d smelled the truth when his son had entered the kitchen. Angel had smirked to himself when he heard Spike’s answer.
“You can keep your soddin’ money, luv.” And after a while Spike added. “Bugger it, I’m staying –with Connor.”Spike was equally as vexed by his sire as he was grateful to the damn poof, who was sitting opposite to him making an innocent face as if he hadn’t any idea, what had really been going on. Spike had been a puppet once more, even if this time it had been for his own good. But he’d never admit that to his grandsire, who had just made Spike an offer he couldn’t resist. Obviously, the great nancy-boy had watched The Godfather.
*************************************
Your pain’s been the only constant in your life, the one thing that has never abandoned you.
You think that your pain is yours to keep and bear alone.
But it is not.
I want it.
I want everything you are.
Next evening at sunset Angel came back to the apartment and the three of them played 7 card stud, until Angel had lost four times in a row. There had been a silent agreement between Connor and Spike to cheat on the game as much as possible.“Maybe we could earn our living as professional gamblers.” Connor thought. A quick blink from Spike was all Connor needed to ascertain, if Spike’s hand was good or bad. Of course, Angel realized their tricks.
“Is this what you’ve been doing with my son? Teaching him to play dirty?” he asked Spike very irritated.
“I don’t think Connor needs much teaching or coaching in anything.” Spike stated quietly, looking at his sire straight in the eyes.
“Chill out, dad” Connor interrupted. “We just couldn’t resist the temptation.”
Angel merely sighed as he swept the matches back to the box.
“Connor, is there something special you would like to do tonight?” He asked then.
“Let’s go skinnydipping.” Connor answered and Spike had to put his hand over his mouth to prevent himself from laughing aloud.
“God, he’s bloody adorable!” Spike thought, delighted.
The beach was alit by a campfire in the distance and a crescent moon. Connor could distinguish people singing and laughing. Perhaps he should do something to lighten up their much gloomier party –he undressed rapidly and walked towards the water. At the edge of the sea, he turned to the vampires.“If I have to swim alone, I swear you will never see me again.” Connor grinned as widely as he could. Spike obeyed immediately and tossed the towels and his clothes to the sand.
“The last one on the water sleeps alone!” he shouted cheerfully. Spike and Connor ran together to the sea and plunged into the waves.
The water was cold, but the sense of freedom overwhelmed Connor. The salt filled his nostrils. Once the same water had filled his father’s nose, his mouth and his dead lungs. Connor shook the thought away and recalled the first time he’d heard the roar of the ocean. It was the first time he’d found something more powerful and more relentless than himself, or his father…
“This ocean is like a huge bowl of God’s tears.” The thought was consoling and Connor smiled, when he reached Spike.
“Was my father born a brooding chicken or did he just become one?” Connor asked him.
The swimming vampire looked at Angel, who stood perfectly still just above the waterline looking at them sullenly.
“I think Captain Forehead is a natural.” Spike smirked. “Suppose we could bring some moist cheer into his life.”
They swam back and walked out the water holding hands. Angel’s stare was completely blank until they surrounded him.
“The duster!” Angel yelped, but it was too late, he was already lying down on his face as the waves brushed over him. Spike had locked his hands from behind and Connor had given him a mighty push. Now, Angel had no choice but to strip off the wet clothes and join the others in the sea. Connor and Spike chased each other and then like two naughty children they splashed water on him until he gave in and chased them at his turn.Actually, Angel was relieved to see Connor relaxed in his company, although he probably had Spike to thank for it. Angel had been afraid of Connor’s mood after the drive back from Nevada, because Connor had insisted they explain their bloodline’s history and how Angel had lost his soul, how Spike had regained his and other things that had happened in L.A., in Sunnydale and even in Europe. Often they were incidents either Angel or Spike didn’t want to remember. At least, Connor had listened without jumping out of the Pontiac, as a matter of fact, he seemed to suck in every bit of information he received, even if his comments were scarce:
“So you went back to Spike and Drusilla?”
“You both loved the slayer?”
“She killed you? She killed Grandpa the Freaking Monster? Good for her!”
“You went to Africa to get your soul, so there’s no curse?”
Connor didn’t remember, the last time he’d had so much pure unadulterated fun, and he wanted to cherish every second of it. He rose from the water and sat on his knees on the sand to observe his family, because that was what those two vampires were to him. The thought of Spike being his father’s vampire grandson and a graduate of Angel’s school for serial killers had disturbed him at first, but then he had realized the irony of the situation: they both had souls and they had both loved the same woman, and Connor was linked to both of them –by blood. They were standing in the hip high water now and, for a brief moment, Connor saw them facing each other eyes locked in an intense gaze. Connor knew his father would sense the velvet of the other vampire’s skin even without touching and that Spike’s scent would overwhelm him as it did Connor every time.The world stopped spinning for Connor as he remembered his dream. Two bodies entwined: the more muscular embracing the leaner one and the heavier hands stroking the smooth skin of the other. Both bodies, beautiful and statuesque, were lit by the dim silvery moonlight similar to the one this night. It struck him: his father and Spike had slept together countless times. A sense memory from his childhood swept over Connor. The same feeling as when his kid sis had been brought from the hospital. Connor knew the memory was an illusion, but he recognized the sensation. Jealousy. Again he was the one left outside and the only thing he could do was to peek in through the window. He didn’t have a home. Suddenly, Connor chilled and trembled.
The moment between the vampires was over. The powerful presence of Angel had almost knocked Spike over as always. The same presence usually made him prattle and sneer, to do anything to shake off the spell, but, now, Spike felt like a door had been closed between him and his grandsire: the century-old battle of wills, and all those passions, whether hate or lust, domination or love, were left behind a thick wooden door without a knob. He noticed Connor’s shuddering and wrapped him in a towel in the way he’d done so many times before. He could swear he was becoming more like the pansy William every day. Connor lifted his eyes to him and Spike wasn’t quite sure, if the drops on Connor’s cheeks were seawater or tears.
************************************
Your pain.
I want it.
I want everything you are.
It was almost four o’clock in the morning and Spike had only finished showering the grains of sand from his hair. Connor sat sulkily at the edge of the bed and inspected the Persian patterns of the carpet. It was probably the most expensive one Angel had found and now it was sprinkled with Connor’s dried blood from his cut wrists. He suspected that the old man wouldn’t be very happy about that.After all that had happened to Connor, his father finally chose to spoil him. Where had he been, when Connor had to sleep on sharp-edged rocks or in a muddy pit at Quortoth? Why had his Dad given up on him at the mall, when the only thing he ached for was to have somebody to love him with no hidden catch. There was a dark spot of hatred in his chest, just below his pounding heart.
“Did you love Angelus?”
Spike stopped dead, the towel covering his face.
“He didn’t need anybody’s love. He didn’t have any humanity left.”
“The absence of soul.” Connor clenched his jaw. “You had sex with him.”
“Yeah. You know about the relationships in a vampire family and you also have the ability to comprehend the ties between a sire and a childe. You hear the call of blood too.” Spike looked at Connor’s neck and Connor felt a tingle, where Spike’s fangs had been, but he was too agitated to let himself bask in it. Spike continued.
“In my case the bond extended to my grandsire and that bond is always made of three things: blood, power and lust.” Spike dried himself and dressed in a pair of boxers, before he had time to react Connor had embraced him and bitten hard on his lower lip. Spike’s mouth filled with a coppery taste, his lip was bleeding.
“How many times have you fucked Angel?” The boy asked grimly.
Spike retreated a couple of steps. Connor felt the vampire’s body tense. “Like jaguar preparing for a leap.” Connor thought, beguiled.
“After my coming back from the death, enough times.”
“Do you love him? Does he love you?”
“I wouldn’t call it love, ‘cause believe me I know what love is. Love is ardent connection, feverish yearning.” Spike answered. “And dreadful pain.” He added in his mind and said aloud. “No, I don’t think he loves me.”
“Even with a soul?”
“In our case, the soul doesn’t matter.”
“You want him still regardless of the fact that he is incapable of love with or without the soul? I think it matters!” Connor’s voice raised an octave as he bounced up with fists tightly clenched.
“He can’t love you! He can’t love!”
Quickly, Spike caught a glimpse of a hurt and furious face. “You are dead inside! You can’t feel anything real!”“You’re wrong, Connor.” Spike took him gently by the shoulders. “He loves you. As useless and impotent as the love’s been, he has always loved you. But you always hurt the ones you love.” Spike added softly and brushed a strand of hair behind Connor’s ear. He regretted his words immediately, when he saw Connor’s face distort in a terrifying expression of grief and agony.
“Yes, it’s me, the Destroyer. I’m the one who hurts everyone I love. I’m the one to turn everything around me to ashes. I even destroyed the sole purpose of my own existence!” Connor shook Spike’s hands off and pushed him away harshly.
“Connor!” There was a hint of menace in Spike’s voice.
“The Destroyer. The bastard son of two vampires is who I am. But WHAT am I? I’m human. I bleed like one, but I’m an impossibility, an unholy throwaway vessel for a Power That Was! I only know how to kill and destroy. I’m no better than my father!”
To Spike’s horror Connor sunk his long fingernails in his own neck and scratched four long red stripes down to the tattoo on his chest. For a brief moment Spike stood frozen, but it was enough for Connor to continue the tearing of his own flesh.“Even in Quortoth I was never tormented this way. This world is the true hell: the fire and the brimstone and me suffering for my iniquities and worms of guilt gnawing my entrails….”
Now Spike leapt forward. He tumbled Connor on the bed and threw the full length of his body on Connor’s trembling one holding him tightly on the mattress.“Connor!” He shouted. “ I know your pain, but you’ve got to stop punishing yourself!” Spike pushed Connor’s head back, exposing the torn marks on his neck. Connor’s expression was one of desperation and utter desolation. His eyelashes almost hid the stormy blue eyes and on Connor’s lips Spike saw bloodstains from his own blood.
I am drowning in you.
“I’m standing on the verge of a bottomless abyss, all alone.” Connor’s words cut deep in Spike’s heart.“I know what it’s like to not belong, to be nothing.” Spike spoke in a tranquil voice, though the voice in the back of his head echoed: “Poor Spikey, can’t be a human, can’t be a vampire!” He continued, voice lowered.
“To not be part of some greater plan means that you’re free. You’re free to choose your own destiny, your own purpose. No bloody powers, gods or demons are going to dictate your life. Connor, the past doesn’t exist anymore, if you stop clinging to it. You have to let the past go to find what you are. You have to set yourself free: spread your wings and devour your freedom, my Little Prince. What makes the desert beautiful is that somewhere it hides a well. This world is not the hell –it’s the purgatory.”
Connor closed his eyes and a few tears fell down between his eyelids. Spike licked Connor’s neck to seal the wounds and then gently stroked the skin with his fingertips. There was so much sadness in Connor’s blood that it almost made Spike feel like something inside of him was going to break too. They lay in the bed in silence. Finally, Connor opened his eyes.“I want you to be mine.” He said with determination. “Mine.”
**********************************Connor hated the penthouse: its walls closed him in and the height muted the sounds of the city. The apartment was always too silent. The hunter instincts in him were constantly at alert in vane. This place had really begun to feel like a prison. He observed the creature that was resting on him in the shady bedroom. This vampire had his soul trapped too –but in a demon prison. Connor gazed at the muscles on Spike’s back, made distinct by the shadows. He couldn’t help himself, couldn’t keep from touching Spike. His skin was so cool and silky compared to his own roughness and heat.
“It is almost Christmas”, Connor remembered. “I’ll have to ask dad, if I can spend the holidays with Bob, Annie and little sis. They still believe I’m part of their family.” He thought sleepily.
Connor hadn’t kissed men without rolling in X and the two kisses Spike had given him by now were completely different: the first straightforward and the latter angry and rough, they’d been nothing like the one now. First Spike put his mouth lightly on his and licked away the traces of blood. Then he pressed harder and parted Connor’s lips with his cool tongue. Soon Spike’s mouth grew hot and voracious and Connor started to feel the tension building up in the bottom of his belly. He realized that Spike must have been as starving for this as he was himself. Spike seemed to be all over him at once. His hand caressed Connor’s body, stomach and thighs fervently like he wanted to flay Connor’s skin and cover himself with it.
Connor panted, shivered and squirmed. Spike’s rough tongue laving him felt like thousand little ants marching down his spine and he was already pulsing painfully. He remembered Spike’s fangs on his neck: the magnetic pull from the core of his being streaming into someone, who could not survive without it. At the thought of this Connor wanted to make Spike twitch and burn under his touch in turn, but Spike didn’t let him. Instead, he rolled to his side and made their boxers disappear. Then he moved languorously down to Connor’s hip.“Nobody’s done this to you before, have they?” It was a statement, not a question.
Connor shook his head and his hip jerked forward almost involuntarily in anticipation. Spike’s tone was almost sad as he continued to speak.
“Always giving to everyone and never getting anything in return.” Spike straddled his thighs and lowered his head. His eyes glowed as he continued: “I’m going to make you feel better than ever before, my Little Prince.”
Connor let out something between a wail and a howl, when Spike’s mouth finally swallowed him whole. He’d never felt his heart beat so fiercely and he could almost hear the rush of blood in his own veins. Or had he felt like this before? Did this happen to him, when he was running after his pray fast as the wind on some arid field under a blood-red sky? The danger, the chase, the thrill and the release belonged to him. They belonged to the Destroyer, and the creature whose cool lips savoured and thrashed, tasted and devoured him was part of everything that belonged to him.
Before he had completely recovered from the exploding orgasm, Spike started kissing again. The bright spots behind his eyelids still dazzled Connor, but he settled his hands on the nape of Spike’s neck to pull him even closer. Connor’s skin was so sensitive now, that he thought he would come all over again, just from the graze of Spike’s hard nipples on his chest. If he clenched his fists, he could snap Spike’s neck like a stick of dry wood, something that Connor knew would never happen. He’d be the Destroyer to his grave, but he wasn’t alone anymore, this vampire was his blood and kin.
Somehow, he had to return the favour: Connor bit down hard on his own lip, swept the blood with his index finger and placed it on Spike’s mouth. Spike held his wrist and sucked the blood greedily. Connor wasn’t very well acquainted with vampire sex, but he knew that Spike enjoyed this, from the purring sound and the hard-on pushing against his pelvis. He kissed and stroked Spike everywhere he could reach. Then he bit with his blunt teeth on Spike’s neck and his inner thighs and licked the reddening spots. Spike moaned and arched on the bed. His fingers squeezed Connor’s biceps tightly leaving marks on his arms. The harshness of the grip just made Connor want more.
Luckily, Connor was very flexible. His feet were wrapped around Spike’s back, when Spike entered him. Connor absolutely wanted to experience this final form of connection with the vampire, but Connor’s desire hadn’t stopped him from panicking, when he’d lain flat on the bed all prepared and Spike had parted his thighs with his knee. Spike had turned him over, rubbed tiny circles on his stomach with his thumb and slipped his other hand underneath. His skilled fingers had stroked him from both sides until he relaxed again.
“Like a virgin” Spike whispered. “So taut, silken and luscious.” His voice was honey and molasses, everything soothing and seducing as he reached for Connor’s cock. The slowly pulling fingers gave Connor time to adjust. Spike moved his hips to a better angle and soon Connor’s pain turned to an exquisite pleasure, when they found the perfect rhythm. Spike felt Connor pull him roughly deeper. Connor gazed at Spike straight in the eyes and his hands clawed on Spike’s shoulders as if he was afraid that Spike would leave him in the middle of the act.
Connor needed assurance that this time was different from the countless times he’d been giving blowjobs to strangers for payment, his own insecurities numbed by ecstasy, which meant he could have been sucking chaos demons as well. They started moving faster, hips slamming together, and Connor hadn’t known about that sweet spot. He lowered his hands on Spike’s waist and directed him to plunge even deeper, never loosing the eye contact. “It is my turn to devour you now!” Connor thought, victoriously, before his mind hazed. However, what finally threw him off the edge, regardless of the jolts of pleasure the fast thrusts sent through him, was the intensity of how Spike’s gaze dwelled completely on him and nobody else.
“You are mine.” Connor groaned, overwhelmed by connection. Spike changed to gameface, saying nothing.“You are mine.” He repeated as he guided Spike’s head to his neck. Connor felt Spike burst inside, when the fangs pierced skin. Long ago, hunting on the plains of Quortoth he’d been free, and, now at this moment, when this predator, his brother in blood, penetrated him in every way that he possibly could, Connor remembered freedom again. The freedom, that came, when you knew, where you belonged and who you were, something that nobody could take away.
*********************************
The delightful mixture of the smell of sex and Connor’s musk still floated in the bedroom, when Spike lit a cigarette. He inhaled a few times and placed the cigarette between Connor’s lips. Connor took it in his fingers and Spike lit another for himself. Connor was lying on Spike: his feet between Spike’s, and his arms crossed over Spike’s stomach, his chin leaning on the back of his hand. Connor liked it there.
It had taken a while for Spike to come back from the blazing orgasm. This boy was so full of life: his body warm and inviting, his every muscle pulsating with energy, his skin glowing. Connor radiated of all those emotions only a human could feel, yet, his power belong to darkness, to a creature of night, like someone he had known. Spike chased the thought away quickly. Connor had chosen him, and Spike wanted to smile.
“Bloody hell, you just got to love him!” Spike thought.
Finishing the cigarette Connor lifted his upper body and straddled Spike pressing their crotches comfortably together. He rocked his hips slowly, and Spike felt himself harden again.“Now I want to do it to you.” Connor said. His lips were parted and eyes dilated. The decadent young seducer was back.
“I’m going to make sure you won’t remember him anymore.” Spike saw a quick flash of anger and hurt cross Connor’s eyes, but it was gone quickly, swept away by a mischievous smile. Spike looked away from him for a while, trying to think through the rising tide of lust. Daddy Dearest was always going to be in bed with them, but if Connor wasn’t bothered, neither would he. Turning back, Spike slapped Connor’s deliciously naked butt and lifted a scarred eyebrow.
“You little brat!” In a split second Spike had shifted position so that he clutched Connor’s narrow waist between his thighs. “First you have to get me under!”
***********************************
In his Wolfram & Hart office, Angel sat behind his desk and browsed through his son’s file. “Why did it have to happen every time?” He thought gloomily. “I make a water-tight and bullet-proof plan and fate still manages to twist it. That dealer scumbag is going to regret ever speaking to my son, while he’s being somebody’s bitch in the jail for the rest of his damned life” Angel thought and clenched his fists.
Connor was back with him –in a way. He didn’t know how long it would take for his son to forgive him, if ever. At least, there was Spike to take care of Connor now, like he’d taken care of Drusilla for a century, or Dawn the summer Buffy had been dead. Though Angel would have to confront Spike about some details: the smoking, for instance. As if he wouldn’t have noticed it. Another thing was the dark plum nailpolish Connor had started using. Their scents were already all over each other like two bodies always merged in an embrace… Yes, his son had been taken care of. For a moment his heart was swept over by a flush of yearning and a sense of loss. Trying to win Connor back, he’d lost Spike.
“Angel.” A familiar voice interrupted his musing.
“Wesley!” Angel flinched and put the file swiftly back in its drawer.
“I wanted to tell you that Illyria and I are going to take down the boss of the Ochela demon clan. Is everything all right? Wesley asked, noticing Angel’s absent-mindedness.
“What? Yeah. Sure. Why not?” Wesley was noticeably worried about him.
“You’ve been distracted lately. Is there something I should be aware of? Like a pending apocalypse? Because it’s not usual of you to send Spike to infiltrate a drug gang, and what about the project you’ve assigned him now? What’s that all about? You didn’t exactly explain that to me.” Wesley’s mouth was a straight line.
“No, no apocalypse. Not even pending.” Angel grinned at his old friend, hoping that Wesley didn’t notice the nervous shifting of the legs behind the desk. “The mission was just an excuse to get Spike out of my sight (“And out of the rest of my senses.” Angel added in his mind). Or maybe, one more apocalypse is heading our way, because I think I need to go out more.”
Wesley gave him an odd look.
“Dear Lord! It is the end of the world!”
~Fin~