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"