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The Longest Distance Between Two Points - Chapter 3
Angelus groaned a deep, low groan
at William’s actions. So he got bolder and, sucking one finger, he pushed the
tip gently against the tight hole in front of him. The entrance ring of strong
vampire muscle stayed firmly closed. William was surprised how resistant it
was. This time he bit his finger and used the gush of blood to ease entry. With
one firm push he was inside his Sire. Only now did he look up. If Angelus looked
angry, he knew he’d have to stop. They were defying ancient, immutable lore.
Angelus held William’s gaze for moment then slowly and seductively eased the
tip of his tongue out from between his lips in a mirror image of William’s fingertip
in him. When he was sure his Childe was concentrating, he started flicking his
tongue in and out. William felt an erotic charge fizzle down his spine and started
moving his finger to match the rhythm of Angelus’ tongue. He grinned to himself
when Angelus immediately grunted with pleasure and bit down on his own tongue,
drawing blood. William looked down and concentrated on his task. He watched
his finger disappear into the hole. He watched as the muscle stretched and gave
to his thrusting. He desperately wanted to know what this felt like and hoped
that Angelus would waste no time showing him once they were together. He was
lost in the moment, finding his rhythm when suddenly Angelus let out a high-pitched
squeak, sat up wide-eyed and started panting deep, unnecessary breaths. ‘Oh,
fuck, Will!’
William was shocked. No one had ever used that word in his hearing before, except
for the dead prostitute. That word was almost as shocking coming from his Sire’s
lips than anything else that had happened tonight. Naturally he stopped, wondering
what had upset his Sire so. He was amazed, therefore, when Angelus grabbed his
hand and practically tried to force the bloody finger back in. ‘Oh God, Will,
find that spot again!’
‘What spot?’ William was genuinely at a loss; this was all experimental and
new to him.
‘I don’t know. Just try. Please!’
That was too much. He’d had Angelus drunk, Angelus sucking him off, Angelus
kissing him, crying on him, allowing him to feed off him, laughing with him,
swearing at him and now he had Angelus begging him. He decided he liked Angelus
begging best of all. Angelus begging made William very, very hard indeed. And
being very hard he felt like pushing his cock into Angelus and seeing if he
could use that to find this interesting spot again. He knelt up on his heels
and holding Angelus’ gaze, started slowly and teasingly unbuttoning the front
of his britches. Angelus’ eyes flew open even more. William knew he was surprising
his Sire a lot tonight. He reached into the now loose front and pulled out his
penis.
They looked at each other once more. Angelus’ pupils were dilated and he was
still panting. He drew his legs up a bit more and gave William a view of his
hole as William worked his cock lightly, planning to use his cool, seeping precum
as lubrication. William closed his eyes for the briefest of moments. This was
undreamt of. He opened them again to capture in his mind forever the picture
of Angelus lying on the floor waiting for him with his legs stretched up and
his aching hole exposed and stretched for William’s enjoyment.
But before William could move his cock to embed it in the place he felt it was
meant to be, they both heard the distinct and none too dulcet tones of Darla
on the upper floor of the house. She was calling for her Childe.
William was shocked to discover that the reason he’d been able to see Angelus’
reactions to him for quite a while now was that they were illuminated by the
first soft, harmless rays of dawn, not moonlight. So whilst time had clearly
stood still for William, he was forced to concede that it had moved on quite
normally for the rest of the household. Darla was calling and looking for her
errant Childe. Perhaps she felt guilty at turning him away. Perhaps she was
worried that he’d fallen drunk in the path of the on-coming sunlight. Whatever,
William didn’t care to examine her motives. All he cared about was Darla moving
slowly but surely towards them as she opened and searched each one of the bedrooms
in turn. All he cared about was calculating whether he would have time to cum
fully inside Angelus, before she found them. William kept up the light stroking
of his cock, making sure it was ready to plunge into the hole that seemed to
draw his gaze. As far as he was concerned, as Darla was going to have to accept
them now, she might as well get used to the whole truth at once: not only were
Angelus and his Childe reconciled, they were lovers and friends as well. He
looked up at Angelus, raising his scarred eyebrow and giving a cheeky but sensual
grin. He was caught up short and literally felt his dead heart kick over in
shock once or twice when he saw Angelus’ face. His Sire had twisted his neck
back to look towards the door and had a look of abject terror on his face.
‘Call to her, Angelus, tell her where we are. She’ll know soon enough.’
Angelus turned his head back to look at William on hearing these pleading words.
To William’s eyes it almost looked as if Angelus was moving slower than normal
speed or maybe that was his over active imagination again, trying to delay what
his intuition told him was going to be awful.
Angelus skittered away from him on the floor, pulling on his clothes.
‘Get dressed. NOW!’
‘What? Why? Angelus?’
‘NOW!’ Angelus flew to William and pulled him up to standing against the wall
and actually did his trousers back up for him, fumbling desperately with the
tiny buttons, his fingers brushing unconsciously and uncaringly on William’s
still hard cock.
‘Sire?’ William could manage to say no more. He was falling fast down into a
darkness he felt he would never recover from.
Angelus looked him in the eye, placed his hands on his shoulders and pinned
him hard against the wall.
‘Will! Are ye listening to me? Yer not yet, I can tell.’ He slapped William
very gently across his face then continued, holding him tight against the wall.
‘William, are you listening to me?’ William nodded slowly that he was, his eyes
wide, fixed on Angelus. ‘Will, it can’t be. Not yet. She mustn’t know. She’ll
kill ye. She will. This was a mistake. My mistake. The drink…I just wanted you
and the spirits freed me.’
The hideously destructive and insidious thought flitted across William’s mind
that Angelus had not been as drunk as he had been giving the impression he was,
but the thought was rapidly dissolved in the overwhelming flood of dread that
Angelus’ words stirred in him. He tried harder to concentrate on his Sire’s
urgent, low speech.
‘Will! Listen to me!’ They both heard Darla’s voice, now at the top of the stairs,
now coming slowly down, calling to the minions to look for their Master. Angelus
snapped his head back to Will, pressing him so hard against the wall that William
felt his imprint might forever be left here in this room. ‘Will!’ Angelus was
frantic now. ‘Will, listen. I won’t forget this night. You must remember too,
please Will, tell me you will remember this. One day, one day we’ll be free,
but not now. Do you hear me?’
William did hear. He heard very well. He heard the structure of his unlife shattering
and the broken pieces falling to the ground.
Darla was very close now. Angelus clearly didn’t feel his message was getting
through to his dazed Childe because he suddenly bent his face to William’s and
ravished his mouth with a passionate kiss. Pulling away, he held Will’s face
still by his jaw. ‘WILL! Attend me now!’
And then Angelus said the words that had shattered William’s future and fucked
him up for the rest of his unlife. Because it was not the sex, or the kissing,
or discovering that his Sire loved him that destroyed him, it was what Angelus
said next that did it.
In Prague, over one hundred years later, Spike turned slightly from the still
sleeping Drucilla. It had taken him nearly the whole of her sleeping day to
work up to this point in his memory. He always remembered slowly, wanting to
play his mind over the feel of Angelus, the taste of Angelus and the smell of
Angelus. He remembered so clearly, it was as if Angelus was here in this bed
with him, not Drucilla.
But Angelus was not here, he was dead. He had been for nearly the whole of Spike’s
unlife, had been since the night of Spike’s first Slayer kill. Angelus had gone
out into the night and just never come home. Spike knew, beyond a shadow of
a doubt, that Angelus was dead because if he was not, where was he? If not dead
and not still with Darla, why was he not with his Childe? Spike knew exactly
where Darla was; he had kept close tabs on her since the night they parted.
She had recently returned to her Sire and was enjoying the company benefits
of a small Hellmouth. But Angelus had to be dust, because if he were still around,
he would be here, with Spike. It was what he had promised as he held William
pinned to the wall, as they listened to Darla’s footfalls getting ever closer.
It was what had fucked up, and continued to fuck up, Spike’s life.
So Spike utterly refused to believe what he had been told two months ago. Every
year or so, a minion would bring vague, unconfirmed news to Spike that Angelus
had been seen. Spike dismissed these as stupid rumours and often killed the
bearers of the message. After a while the demon community stopped mentioning
sightings of Angelus to his Childe. It was unwise they decided and got you staked.
So it was particularly disturbing for Spike, that on returning from her hunting
one night, Dru had casually said, ‘Daddy is with Grandmummy again. All the stars
sing of it.’
However hard he had questioned her, he could not get any more information out
of her. But she was very, very sure of what she had ‘seen’. Angelus was back
with Darla and the Master on this small, insignificant Hellmouth.
Spike’s entire world had come crashing down around him at this news. Angelus
dead, he had been able to accept. Eventually. It had taken him almost a hundred
years to do it, but he had come to terms with the idea of never seeing his Sire
again. But Angelus not dead, Angelus back with Darla had just utterly destroyed
him. Because Angelus had promised him. That night, before Darla discovered them
together in the room, he’d promised William things that enabled him to survive
the nightmare time that was to follow.
William felt his collarbones starting to crush under Angelus’ desperate grip.
But the pressure did not lessen at William’s hissed intake of breath. If anything,
it got firmer so urgent was Angelus that he have William’s full attention.
‘Will, attend me. Now! Listen, we cannot be yet. But one day. You have to wait
for me, William, you have to be ready. And Will, know this…whenever you see
me with her, remember, I will be thinking of you, not her. I will take her in
me arms and kiss her with a passion you have never seen, but in me mind Will,
I’ll be kissing you. Watch us and think of my tongue in your mouth, not hers.’
He demonstrated his words by softly kissing William’s mouth. William didn’t
respond and gave no indication he understood Angelus at all. This made Angelus
even more distraught and Darla had reached the bottom of the wide staircase
and was conferring with some minions. ‘Will, when you lie in bed, listen to
us, I’ll cry out as I come, that I love her, but it’ll be you I’ll be saying
it to, your body I’ll be coming in. Do you understand, Will?’ With one last
long look at his Childe, Angelus flew out of the room to meet his Sire and make
his apologies. William heard Angelus laugh and claim he smelt too awful to embrace
her, slipping cleverly away to wash all traces of William off himself before
she discovered the truth about that night.
William had stayed pressed against the wall for most of that day. He had no
strength in his heart to will him to move, to feed, or to start unlife again.
Angelus had ended one way of being for him just as effectively as he had one
year ago by taking his human life. He had rather Angelus had laughed at him
and returned to his Sire and that all of this had merely been a drunk’s great
joke. William did not want to know that Angelus loved him, but that he could
not have him. William did not know how to love by halves. It was not something
unlife had taught him, he loved passionately and completely. Slumped against
the wall that day he saw how unlife would be for him now and he did not want
to return to it.
But eventually he had to move. Eventually he had to feed again and try to pick
up the pieces of the existence that Angelus had destroyed. But he had to give
his Sire his due; he was true to his word. Every time Angelus and Darla came
into the room, Angelus would sweep her up with an urgent, passionate kiss. She
would break away from it; glowing from the unexpected rush of desire Angelus
had shown her recently. She sensed that ever since the drinking episode he had
been wild with desire for her, he had taken her incessantly, wanted her day
and night and she reveled in her power over him, lauding it over the others,
making them feel her importance.
And William had watched all of this.
He had listened to Angelus crying ‘I love you’ over and over from the privacy
of his bedroom.
Just one or twice had they been left alone together, no Darla, no Drucilla,
no minions, but these times were so short and so infrequent, William despaired
of being able to tell Angelus all he wanted to. All Angelus did was pull him
into an urgent kiss, run his hands over William’s body and renew his vow, that
one day he would be free to claim his Childe. A few times Angelus even risked
touching William when Darla was present. In the darkened corners of theatre
boxes whilst waiting for the ladies to move elegantly past, Angelus would occasionally
press back into William, deliberately moving his hands behind him to feel William’s
ever present erection. In coaches when the women fell asleep from the long,
tiring journeys, Angelus would take William’s hand in his own and bring it to
his lips, biting once again into that soft pad at the base of his thumb, renewing
his vow to his Chide.
But none of these times were enough for Angelus either. He seemed to become
slightly mad with frustrated passion and when he could not lay his hands lovingly
on William, he laid them in other ways. Under the cover of punishing William,
he could at least touch his skin, lick the blood from his wounds, hear him beg
for release, if only for release from the pain. So with his Sire watching, Angelus
would torture William. For the slightest, invented transgression, William would
be subjected to days of beatings and whipping. As if to make the feel of the
whip worse, Angelus would run his hands over William’s naked body, preparing
him, Darla laughing her high-pitched encouragement to this cruel treatment.
William sometimes wondered if she suspected why Angelus did these acts, but
looking into Angelus’ face as he raised the whip to bring it down across his
stomach, even he could not see any pretense in that cold, cruel expression.
If he could not see through the pretence, how could she?
And the effect of all this on William?
It made him desperate and miserable to a point that the only thing that drowned
out his misery was the fear and pain of others. He became pure demon, suppressing
what he saw as the human weakness in himself. He found his new persona and was
pleased with it. He decided to call himself Spite. He wanted to spite Angelus,
Darla and everyone who crossed his path. He wanted to reek havoc and rip and
tear and make everything bleed. He wanted entropy and dissolution.
He was a little disconcerted, therefore, that when he told Drucilla to no longer
call him William, but to call him Spite, she immediately misheard what he said
and started to call him Spike with a gleeful repetition she kept up all day.
She flew to ‘Daddy’ and told him that her William was now called Spike. She
told everyone and however many times he tried to correct her, whispering subliminally
in her ear when she was asleep, ‘Spite’, ‘Spite’, ‘Spite’, she never got it.
She called him Spike and so after a while he gave in and became inventive with
his new name and the instrument of torture it suggested to him. He had never
before seen fear like it from his victims until he showed them what he intended
to do with the spike. He had never heard cries of pain so long and so piercing
as from those hapless humans he impaled and left to die in agony. It was as
well he had never heard of Freud and could not see the connection between what
he did with spikes to others’ small puckered holes and what he was burning to
do with Angelus. All he knew was that their pain helped to drown out thoughts
of Angelus until he had, inevitably, to return to the family group and witness
what Angelus did with Darla, in his name.
And so it would begin again, the pain and the fear and the bringing of chaos
until his head spun with the sound of his victims and he became confused as
to where their pain started and his ended. It was all pain, it was all fear,
it was all despair. But he never doubted Angelus. Except for doubting the wisdom
of telling him all this in the first place, he never doubted that Angelus loved
him and that what he did with Darla, he actually did with him. Sometimes, lying
in his bedroom next to Angelus’ room he actually felt Angelus’ penetration of
Darla, he swore he could feel a rush of cold cum in his body when Angelus cried
out ‘I love you’ and he despaired of this madness and where it would lead him.
He saw no sign of Angelus attempting to leave his Sire, let alone to stake her
and William didn’t know how much longer he could go on with this pretence. The
screams and wails of his victims’ fear were having less and less effect and
he was tiring of the game. He wanted to rest and to be still and to be able
to start thinking again, without pain. So when Angelus went out one night to
hunt and didn’t return, Spike knew the agony, along with the ecstasy, was over.
He eventually parted with Darla and went his way with his dark Princess.
The only thing that kept him vaguely sane was the thought that at least if he
couldn’t have Angelus, then neither could anyone else, especially Darla. So
it came as a particular shock that night in Prague to hear from Drucilla that
Angelus was not dead, that he was ‘alive’ and that he was in America, in California,
on a Hellmouth and more importantly, he was with Darla.
Oh yes, that had not been good news. Spike did not quite know what to do for
the best. He wanted to go to California, but he didn’t. He wanted to take up
where they had left off, but he didn’t. He was no longer William, no longer
Spike of the early years either. Now he didn’t give a shit for vampire lore
or vampire culture, if he went there he would fight Darla for his Sire if he
could. But would that bring Angelus to him?
Spike turned again on the bed, trying to get comfortable. He’d thrown off the
covers some time ago and his long, pale, incredibly thin body was softly illuminated
from the filtered sunlight coming in through the tightly closed shutters. He
looked at his body. He looked at his flaccid cock. He looked at his hands, his
arms and his legs. He tried to see himself as Angelus had seen him. For this
was Spike’s great worry and fear. He did not now think that Angelus wanted him.
Surely, surely, if Angelus wanted his Childe he would stake Darla? This, was
not then. Childer, Sires, Masters, they were all very old ways of thinking as
far as Spike was concerned. This was the age of McDonalds and the Internet.
All that old vampire shit belonged to the age of crinoline and smog. If Spike
had left it all behind him, then so could every other bleeding vampire. If Angelus
wanted him, he could stake Darla and claim him. That he had stayed absent for
nearly one hundred years and then returned immediately to his Sire did not bode
well for their future, as far as Spike was concerned.
So he didn’t go to California. He stayed in Prague and put up with Drucilla’s
increasing madness and passion for the church. Every night she preyed on the
simple church-going folk, trying to find in their blood, the blood of the lamb
that had been so cruelly lost to her forever. Spike let her go and rarely accompanied
her on these feeding frenzies, so he was not there to protect her when the congregation
of Our Lady before Tyn discovered her feeding on their Bishop.
There should be a difference between a congregation and a mob, but to Drucilla
that night there was little to choose between them. They tore at her, tried
to reclaim the stolen blood, tried to prevent her escaping by destroying her
very limbs. She only made her escape because, in their frenzy, they attracted
the notice of the authorities and became the victims of a riot squad themselves.
Spike found her the next day and carried her back undercover of darkness to
the hotel. He feared even his love for her could not keep her ‘alive’ now.
It was particularly bad timing, therefore, that one brave minion risked a stake
to tell Spike the latest news from Sunnydale. He felt it would be welcome news
and that it would earn him some much-needed brownie points with the unpredictable
blond one. He told Spike that he had heard from a very reliable source that
far from Angelus living with Darla and the Master, he was in fact very estranged
from them and living entirely on his own.
Oh yes. This was bloody good news. Just what Spike fucking needed to know now,
with a half-dead Drucilla, totally unable to travel. He thanked the poor minion
with a particularly painful uppercut to his jaw and returned to tending his
beloved Princess on the bed. Fucking hell. So Angelus had not returned to Darla.
Spike’s mind was in a whirl of confusion. Surely, if he knew where Darla and
Angelus were, surely Angelus would likewise know where he was? Why hadn’t Angelus
sent for him? Maybe he was biding his time. Maybe he didn’t know where Spike
was? Europe was a big place. Maybe he’d just disappeared too well in Prague.
Spike was wild with desire to return to America and see Angelus again.
This desire did not lessen of course when, still caring for Drucilla who was
now almost well in body if not in mind, he heard that Angelus had staked his
Sire. It all finally made sense to Spike. That’s what Angelus had been waiting
for. He had not sent for Spike till it was safe for him. He had been waiting
merely to kill Darla. Now he would send for him. But why wait? Why not go to
this, Sunnydale, and surprise him? So that’s what he did.
Over a century of waiting. Over a century of loving. All his passion, all his
need for his Sire had been thwarted by that small, blond, female vampire. And
she was now history.
As he traveled those ghastly miles with Drucilla, there was one clear, clarion
thought in Spike’s mind keeping him going:
"At least there will be no small, blond female to get between us now"
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1 | 2 | 3 |
4 | 5 | 6 |
7 | 8 | 9 |
10 | 11 | 12 |
13 | 14 | 15 | |