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As It Was, So Shall It Be - Chapter 1

Spike stretched luxuriously on his bed. He felt a tingle of anticipation run down his spine. He was about to slot a slayer and it felt very, very good. Better than the other sort of slotting them, that was for sure.

He needed to get her to his crypt. He debated going round to the shop and trying to get her to patrol with him, but didn't think that would work. He decided to call the shop, made a huge mistake in not realising it was not Buffy on the other end, and cringed in embarrassment when Willow said in a surprised voice, 'Spike?'

Spike slammed the phone down, cursing. Willow put it down more carefully and thoughtfully.

This was new.

This was bad.

This was new and bad and… unfair. This was unfair because she was on her own now. But it was wrong anyway. Wrong from any point of view. Eww. Spike and Buffy… eww!

Willow wasn't sure what to do, didn't really want to incur Spike's wrath by interfering... couldn't deal with that... was dealing with Buffy's wrath already… needed someone who could deal with both of them… oh… Angel!

She called Angel and told him what was happening. He slammed the phone down as well but, to be fair to him, he wasn't cursing.

Willow then completely regretted what she'd done. It was an awful mistake. What if Angel didn't want Buffy any more? She could picture the whole, awful scenario… he breaks up Buffy and Spike, but then doesn't want poor Buffy. So, drag her out of heaven… ruin her love life… way to go, Willow! Willow did what she always did these days when perplexed; she resorted to magic. She decided to ensure that Angel loved Buffy. She cast a spell -"As it was, so shall it be" - and she cast it on Angel.

It hit Angel just as he was striding through the cemetery looking for Spike's crypt. He had his hand on the door to enter when he blinked once, looked up, and thought, "Now, what's just happened here, boyo? Why is it warm and, by all that's unholy, what am I dressed in?"

Willow's spell had been a good idea but, like all magic has a tendency to do, it went wrong. It was too strong. Perhaps when she cast that incantation to have things back as they were, she had put a little too much longing, a little too much personal upset and need into the words. Much too strong… Angel passed right through his 'I love Lucy' phase, went through his 'oh God, I have a soul' years, and crashed right back to 'I'm the Scourge of Europe and Clapham Common' days. As it was… so shall it be, indeed. Angel was exactly as he used to be except he now had poofy hair and sexy clothes. Not that he saw the one or thought that about the other. He only felt nauseous and disoriented; two things Angelus was not used to feeling at all.

Fortunately, being in a cemetery and facing a crypt, he didn't really appreciate all the changes that had taken him from Darla's bed to this place. He took the change in his stride, assumed it was a demon spell and pushed open the door of the crypt determined to find the instigator and kill it.

He was bemused by this place. He'd never seen a crypt with obvious signs of habitation. He wandered around looking at things he didn't understand for a while until he heard a voice from below say, 'Oh Buffy.… So, you came after all; did Red tell you?'

Angelus took a step back as Spike came up the steps.

Spike almost choked on his swallow of whisky.

'Fucking hell, Angel. What do you want? Poof.'

Angelus almost thought he recognised this freakish vampire. Almost, but not quite. He wrinkled his brow. It reminded him of his two-month old childe, William, but the resemblance was only in the eyes. Perhaps they had been related in life. He was indecently dressed for one thing. Angelus never allowed William to go out unless properly attired.

'Are you gonna stand there like a bleeding dummy, Angel?'

'My name is Angelus. Why do you address me in the familiar?'

Spike paused, looked at Angel more closely and said in a sneering tone, 'Don't think so, mate. I can smell that obscene soul from here.'

Angelus hissed and turned into game face. 'Be careful how you speak to me.'

'Fuck off, pillock. Are you drunk or something? Look, I'm waiting for the slayer, so….'

Angelus whirled around. 'A slayer? Where?'

Spike put down his bottle, backed off slowly and said in a voice full of wonderment. 'Angelus?'

'Do you know me?'

'Err… okay, going to play along here; this is Sunnydale after all…. Just don't sing, okay, mate; don't fancy havin' an orchestral accompaniment… anything but singing. Yes, you know me; I'm your childe.'

Spike had to almost spit the words out. It was like admitting a truism he had long ago abandoned.

'My childe? How dare you. What is your name?'

'Duh… Spike…. Well, William to you, I guess.'

'William.' Suddenly, Angelus saw it. Beyond the leather trousers, the odd purple shirt, the even odder necklace and hair, he saw William and heard William, but not his William… not the sweet poet he was training and moulding to poetry of his own composition. Angelus suddenly looked around the crypt again.

'Where is this?'


'This is not London, is it?'

'Err… not the last time I looked, no. It's Sunnydale. You are drunk, aren't you?'

'Where is Sunnydale?'

'Well, in California.'

'Where is California?'

'In America.'

'The New World?'

'Well, getting a bit old and tired now, but yeah… I guess.'

Angelus looked at William's clothes again. Looked down at his own leather trousers and felt the material of his coat and shirt. 'When is this?'


'What year.'

'Oh, two thousand and two… Angel…? Angelus…?'


Angelus woke to the painful realisation that he had lost two centuries and to the even worse knowledge that he had fainted. He'd been tortured by the Inquisition, and now he faints! It had also not escaped his notice that his childe, William, was now older than him. He decided it was time to reassert his position in this relationship. He sat up and realised he had been laid on a bed. He was obviously underground and assumed it was William's bed. He heard movements upstairs and shouted for his childe.

Spike came down the stairs. 'Ah, wakey, wakey, then? You need the smelling salts or something there, Angelus? You just let me know, 'k? Cus I could probably find you some lavender water to dab….'

Angelus, growling, shoved William into the wall and placed a hard, possessive kiss on his lips.

Spike pushed him away just as forcibly, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and spitting theatrically on the floor.

'Ugh… bastard…. I don't do THAT anymore! Fuck, not for a hundred and twenty years.'

Angelus just stood there. It didn't make it any easier for Spike that it was Angel's hated body; it had been like kissing Angel! That was something Spike didn't even want to think about. He'd rather sing to Buffy again and prance around on a coffin.

Angelus sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at Spike. 'We don't do that. What do you mean? Am I dead here?'

'Dead dead, no. Still dead, yeah.… You live a couple of hours away. That's your 'now' body; if you see what I mean.'

Angelus looked down at Angel's leather jeans, blue shirt and long coat, and visibly shuddered.

Spike laughed. 'You should see the hair, if you think that's bad….'

Angelus' hand flew to up and he brushed his palm over the springiness, felt the short back and ran his hands over it, feeling the softness.

'I don't understand, William….'

'Don't call me that. I'm not William anymore. I changed my name; it's Spike now.'


'Long story, mate,'

Angelus started to pace in front of Spike, every so often giving him confused glances.

'So…. Why don't we…? Have I renounced you? Have I done a renouncing ritual on my own childe?'

'Well, we don't go in much for that vampire shit nowadays, Angelus. Nah, we just kinda grew apart.'

'Grew apart? How is that possible? We are all in all to each other!'

Spike felt a pang of deep sadness. He'd tried to forget the early years with Angelus; those thoughts made him too confused.

Angelus was here now, though. It was incredible. Unbelievable. SO Sunnydale. How? Why? Oh… bloody hell…! Who? Spike thought he had a very good idea who might have caused this.

Spike could not believe that Angelus existed in that body. He came hesitantly towards him. Angelus stopped pacing. Spike reached out a hand and put it on Angelus' cheek. He wanted to take a deep look into his eyes to see if he would really find his beloved sire there.

Angelus, perhaps mistaking the simple gesture, caught Spike's hand and pulled him into another kiss.

If Spike hesitated, it was only for the moment it took him to think illogically, "Fuck it... it's just a kiss... no one else bloody wants to kiss me these days... this'll show her." So he didn't let his confusion ruin the moment. He let himself enjoy the kiss. Kissing was good. Kissing was always good... didn't matter who. This was better than plastic and wires any day.

Strangely, the kiss turned out to be a lot more than Spike anticipated. It brought him back to himself, anchored him to something he had been adrift from for a long time.

Angelus opened his mouth and flicked his tongue against Spike's teeth. Spike smiled into the kiss and opened his mouth, too. Angelus' hands came down Spike's body and slipped up under his tee shirt. He started rolling and pinching Spike's nipples.

Spike gasped and pulled back. He was totally aroused, knew his eyes were dilated and was shocked to find that his body still responded to his sire after all this time.

Angelus smiled and started to undo Spike's jeans. The zip fascinated him, and he ran it up and down and few times before Spike said, his voice choked with emotion, 'Let me.'

He slipped the jeans off and stood there, his erection long and pale against the black tee shirt.

Angelus smiled and licked his lips. 'Hmm, now that's the William I recognise.'

Spike laughed again. 'Come on Angel… just suck me, hey?'

To his horror, Spike suddenly realised what he had said. Angelus flung himself away, hissing. Then he came back to Spike and backhanded him viciously into the wall.

'Who do you think you are, childe? Have I not raised you better than that? Ye Gods, what is this place that a childe dares address his sire so?'

Spike stayed against the wall for a moment, checking his jaw to see if it was broken. Before Angelus could come at him again though, he propelled himself forcibly into him and sent him flying backwards over a small wooden trunk used to store weapons. Whilst Angelus was down, Spike hopped into his jeans again and ran up to the top level to give himself some metaphorical breathing space.

What had just happened? He had only wanted a kiss. He had only wanted to recapture a moment of his relationship with Angelus but where the fuck had 'suck me, Angel' come from?

Angelus had never, ever done sexual favours for William. He'd used William for relief, as was a sire's right. So Spike knew he couldn't use 'oh, silly me, slipped up with the name there, mate' as an excuse.

Did that mean he had actually meant Angel? Had Spike asked the most hated fucker in the world to go down on him?

Spike heard Angelus getting up, heard him kick the trunk angrily. It didn't really matter what Spike had meant, from Angelus' point of view, Spike had just asked the Scourge of Europe to get down on his knees and suck him like a common fledgling. Oh. Fuck. This was bad.

Spike was totally confused now, and the very large vampire coming furiously up the stairs didn't help matters.

'I'm sorry, Angelus.' Spike backed away, his hands held up in surrender. 'You've gotta realise, things have changed a bit now… you know... like the Master… remember what a git you always thought him? He lived in the past, didn't he…? Well, that's like us… it's in the past… I got confused with now.'

Angelus stopped his advance and stood with his arms folded, looking at Spike.

'So, this Angel sucks you off, does he?'

Spike choked back a hard, bitter laugh. 'No, we don't even speak to each other, so sucking definitely not been a feature of our relationship.'

'Aye, well, I'm confused, too, Will… Spike. You seemed very willing to have Angel on his knees to you, but you say you are estranged. It is a confusing world here.'

Spike came over slowly and hopped up on the tomb. Angelus hesitated for a moment then came and stood between his legs. He put a hand on each of Spike's thighs.

'You're lost, childe. I can see it in your eyes.'

Unbelievably, Spike felt tears prick his eyes at these soft words, and he turned his head to one side to try and blink them back in.

'You don't know the half of it, Angelus. I've been chipped, so I can't feed or hurt humans; I work for a slayer; hell, I'm almost shagging a slayer; you've got a soul; you've staked Darla and Penn. It's all shit here, Angelus.'

Spike had a moment of fear that he'd somehow upset the space-time continuum by telling Angelus about his future, but suddenly remembered he wasn't a geek or a loser and that he didn't give a shit.

Angelus' hands tightened involuntarily on Spike's thighs.

'I have a soul in this time?'

Spike nodded miserably.

'Huh. I wonder where that came from. I didn't have much of one of those when I was alive.'

Spike laughed lightly and risked a hand on Angelus' face again. 'Well, you've got a real hum-dinger of one now. You….' he could hardly say this, felt embarrassed for Angelus, 'You help the helpless, like a bleeding Robin Hood.'

'Robin the Hood was a vicious thief and murderer.'

'Oh yeah. I forgot. We've revised him a bit, too.'

Angelus took Spike's hand again and pulled him close until the blond head was resting on his shoulder.

'How can we be estranged, little one? Even with a soul, I'd still love you.'

'Don't, Angelus.' Spike's words were muffled against Angelus' shoulder. 'Please, don't…. I miss you too much.'

They stayed like that for a long time, Angelus stroking the back of Spike's neck with his thumb thoughtfully. It disturbed him, seeing his childe so confused and in so much pain. He wanted to reach out his hand and play the sire for him again, but didn't know how. He was as lost in this place as Spike seemed to be.

Finally, he pushed Spike away and said carefully and slowly, 'First things first. Let us go and pay this slayer a visit, shall we? No soul in here, William.'

Spike said a little too quickly, 'No!'

'William, she is a slayer. It is our duty to kill her.'

'You don't need to tell me that, Angelus…. I've killed two already.'

Angelus' eyes widened in pleasure and pride. He kissed Spike. 'Good boy!'

Spike's dead heart swelled from praise he'd been longing to receive, but never had.

'Make it a hat-trick then?'

'No! Look, she'll…. She's not easy…. She's killed you once.…'

Spike suddenly realised he didn't know if he was more afraid for Buffy, or for Angelus.

Angelus didn't wait for Spike to examine his priorities. He stalked out of the crypt, sniffed the air, found nothing of any use, so went left, and started striding though the cemetery.

'Angelus! Wait!' Spike scrambled to get his shirt and hurried to catch him up. 'You can't do this…. I don't want her dead.'

Angelus stopped and looked at him. 'Things may have changed, Will; you may not be my two month old fledgling, but we are still vampires. That does not change.'

He turned and started to run.

Spike cursed and ran after him. He wasn't too worried, Angelus didn't have a clue where Buffy lived and more people probably lived in Sunnydale than had lived in the whole of London in Angelus' day, so it was unlikely he'd find her.

After a few minutes, Spike got fed up with running and was debating letting Angelus just run himself out when he heard a sickening screech of brakes, a loud thud and, after a moment, ear-splitting screams. He doubled his speed and discovered Angelus, his head split open, lying behind a car. The driver of the car, a young woman, was the one hysterically screaming, which well she might, as she had hit Angelus at over fifty miles per hour; he had risen over the hood, hit the windshield, carried on over the roof, and crashed into the road behind. She had just knelt down and checked his pulse… the absence of which had sent her into hysterical shock.

By this time, quite a crowd had gathered. Spike pushed through them to kneel beside Angelus.

'He just ran right out in front of me…. He didn't even look! He just ran right out in front of me…. He didn't look; he didn't look. He just ran….'

'Okay, pet, I get the picture.' Spike gathered Angelus in his arms and started to push back through the small group gawping at the spectacle. He looked behind him at the distraught girl, cursed himself for being weak, but said gently, 'Listen, luv… believe me… he's not dead. He's not even badly hurt. He's… he's… oh, yeah, he's one of those anthropologist thingies who escape boxes and shit… honestly, he's not dead.'

He wasn't sure if she believed him. Her look of quiet puzzlement could have been because she was trying to work out what an anthropologist would need to escape from, but Spike only took it as a good sign his words had had an effect.

He carried the extremely heavy Angelus back to the crypt. By the time he got there, he was cursing loudly and sweating unpleasantly.

He laid Angelus in his bed and examined him carefully. Bad, but nothing a few hours of sleep and rest wouldn't take care of. Spike stripped out of his sweaty clothes, pulled on an old pair of jeans, and sat down next to Angelus, wiping some of the blood off his face.

Spike tried to imagine what it would be like looking down at Angel in a bed. It was not something he had ever allowed himself to consider before. There was no great mystery to this; Angel was not his sire in any meaningful way. Fucking Angel would be like fucking any unknown man, and Spike had never had that inclination. Spike didn't fuck men; he had fucked his sire. Big difference.

He had slept with his sire because it pleased his sire.

He knew in some fundamental way that this was very, very sick. It was one reason why male vampires often claimed a female siring if they thought they could get away with it. If you didn't sleep with men, it was kind of hard to explain the way your hole opened willingly enough for your sire's cock. These two things might almost seem contradictory to the uneducated eye.

He didn't even question why he found Angelus and Angel so different. Tonight just proved it, yet again. All Angel ever did was deride him, hate him, dismiss him, belittle him, or ignore him. Angelus had wanted him, comforted him, and praised him.

Spike wondered if he could go back to the old ways with Angelus. One hundred and thirty years was a long time to get over wanting to please your sire. Spike was a modern, grown-up, bad-ass demon. He was not the fledging that Angelus remembered. Two months old…. jees, had he ever been that young? He was one hundred and thirty. He could hardly believe that so much time had passed so quickly.

However, if he had grown up too much to want the comfort of sleeping with his sire, and if he didn't want to sleep with Angel, the question had to be asked, why did he have a huge, painful, urgent erection, now, as he looked at this body?

Angel's body.

Asleep, there was no confusion. Asleep, that was Angel bleeding quietly into his sheets.

Never one for introversion or brooding, Spike took this erection in his stride or, more to the point, in his hand. He lay down alongside Angelus and undid the soft, worn jeans. He slipped his fist in around the base of his shaft. He started to work the velvet-soft skin.

He let his mind drift, trying to decide what fantasy to use. He thought firstly about Buffy. After all, only a few hours ago he'd been planning offering this to her to see how she liked being staked for once. He imagined their energetic intercourse, came into her hot, tight body, but realised, with a pang of worry, that he hadn't actually cum for real. He moved on to thoughts about Angelus. He tried to focus on his favourite memory of Angelus' cock, thought it was probably his very first memory of it deep in him when he had still been human, and it had made him cum in a flood against a stable wall.

Bloody hell, he still hadn't cum for real yet.

Was there anything more pathetic than not being able to cum when you're doing it your bleeding self?

One more attempt.

He pictured Angel. He started with the memory of Angel hanging in manacles and crying. Definitely getting closer now. He felt his balls tighten, felt them tingle with a cold trickle of emerging seed, but then he thought about Angel when he had last seen him at Buffy's funeral. He thought about the way Angel's sad eyes had rested on him and had creased in confusion at the tears he'd seen on his estranged childe's face.

His relief was urgent, copious, but totally unsatisfactory. Why the bleedin' hell had he cum at last to a memory of that sad git's face?

He was disgusted with himself, opened his eyes, and found Angelus propped up on one hand watching him with a grin on his face.

'That was a rare treat, lad. Hope you were thinking about me.'

Spike sat up and looked at Angelus. Strangely, he did not feel the least embarrassed. Even after so long, masturbating in front of the creature that had shown him how to do that most pleasurably could not embarrass him.

'How do you feel?'

Angelus looked puzzled. 'Was it a steam engine, Will? Did I miss the railway lines?'

'Yeah, pet. A train. Don't worry about it. How are you?'

'Well enough. I've been worse. Ruined these peculiar garments, though.'

Spike helped him take off the torn, blood stained clothes.

Most of Angelus' wounds were superficial ones, and these had healed already. He'd cracked a few ribs that were still paining him, his skull was still tender but, other than that, Angel's body had come off lightly.

Spike was surprised and slightly alarmed when Angelus pushed him back on the bed and started to lick and nuzzle into the drying cum on his chest.

He pushed him away and sat up against the wall.

'Don't Angelus. It's not what I want anymore. I'm all grown up now… one hundred and thirty, pet…. I can't be a two month old fledge any longer. I'm just not comfortable with this….' Listening to the witches' vacuous chatter had come in useful at last!

Angelus crawled up to him and laid a hand almost threateningly on his thigh. 'You'll do as I say, William, or face the consequences.'

Spike shook his head in disbelief. 'Jesus, you really were a thick paddy, weren't you Angelus? I said no. I'm frigging one hundred and thirty… same age as you. You don't know enough not to step in front of a bleedin' Volvo. So, guess what, Angelus? You need me now more that I need you! We've got machines that fly through the air; we've landed on the moon; we're almost about to go to Mars; women vote, wear trousers, and run countries.…' He paused. 'Okay, Ireland's exactly the same as when you left it… but, hey! This is the new world, mate; you're a bleedin' relic.'

'Ladies wear trousers? It can't be true.'

Spike collapsed. Trust Angelus to focus on the big issues.

Angelus smiled, too. 'So, what am I going to do with me little fledging, William? All grown up you are.'

Spike sobered up quickly and stopped laughing. He only had so much willpower, and Angelus still held a fascination for him... or so his cock was now telling him. Angelus was pulling all the right strings.

He was a clever bastard.

'So, how does this Angel treat you, little one? Does he respect your great age?'

Angelus crawled up between Spike's thighs and put one hand on each.

'Does he look at you with these eyes of mine, remembering? Believe me, little one, he does remember.'

Angelus started to move his hands up Spike's thighs.

'Surely he remembers what we were to each other?'

Hands reached belly, and Angelus straddled Spike's legs.

'Close your eyes, childe.'

Spike wanted to fight the urge to comply, but couldn't.

Angelus started to work Spike's nipples.

'Who does this feel like, Spike? Am I Angelus or Angel now?'

Spike's eyes flew open in fear and confusion, but Angelus placed a hand over them, forcing them to close again. 'Who do you want me to be? Angelus or Angel? Ahh, see? You are not so immune to your sire after all, Will. That's good. Do not fight it. You have been away too long, that's all. You have needed me, and I have not been here for you, have I? But Angel has been, William. He is still me… just a few years difference. And believe me, William, no soul would make me stop wanting this.'

Angelus' hand moved to fist around Spike's cock.

'I remember having a soul, William. As I said, it was not very strong. Do you really think it could make me stop loving you? Hurting you, maybe, but not wanting you. You're mine, William. I chose you; I'd never renounce you. Turn over now, there is a good boy for your sire.'

Spike turned. What else could he do? He wasn't a saint. Anyone giving him pleasure was better than no one. His sire doing this to him made him feel safe and loved, like a human who hears the strains of a once familiar lullaby.

But who did he picture entering him? Angelus who had brought him back to this now unfamiliar sensation, or Angel who had been brought so vividly to life in his mind? Was he thinking about Angel who he had always dismissed as being just another man and therefore not desired? Perhaps it was the Angel he had desired but whom Spike knew was indifferent to his childe. Maybe it was the Angel he told himself was only a man to give himself an excuse for hating him and not minding when Angel ignored him. He had a lot of Angels in his head. He had not realised he had thought about him so much.

He closed his eyes and thought about Angelus and Angel again.

There was only one choice really. Only one of them might stay the night, sleep alongside him, and reciprocate the pleasure in the morning with a little post-shag, shag. Only Angel might do all this. Angelus couldn't. He could not love. He thought he could but, for all his protestations of affection, he could not see love's absence, for he was only a demon. Angel could feel love very well… Spike had witnessed this himself. Angel could love just as well as Spike could. But then Angel was an aberration, a flawed demon, just as Spike was.

So, when he felt cool fingers probe and explore around his entrance, in his mind they were Angel's fingers. He turned over so he could marry up his fantasy with the unreal-reality. He could watch Angel's body but still had to pretend it was Angel. It wasn't hard to pretend; what his eyes told him was so much more powerful than what his rational brain told him. If only Angelus did not speak. If only Angelus would stay silent. Then Spike could maintain his fantasy.

Spike knew the fantasy would last only as long as Angelus' erection. When Angelus was spent, he would move away, as he always did. Angelus' love had always been thus. Angelus seemed to remember their relationship coloured with the infatuation he had for his new childe. Spike had lived out the rest of that sire/childe relationship, and he knew the infatuation had quickly waned.

Angelus did not have the equipment to love Spike as Spike now needed and wanted to be loved. He wanted a real relationship with someone, and Angelus was only a mimicry of a human. He was an 'it' merely inhabiting a human body. Spike had changed. Angelus could not. He was a phantom, conjured up from the past somehow who was, of necessity, still locked into that past.

Spike watched Angel's eyes as Angelus continued to work his hole. He watched as Angel's cock came to press against him. He watched Angel's lip being bitten through in delight as that cock tore his childe and made him bleed. He watched as Angel's tongue flicked out to lick the bleeding lip and Angel's eyes widened in lust as Angelus embedded himself deeply into him.

Spike propped himself up to watch Angelus' buggery of his favourite childe. He was so detached from what was happening in the bed, it was as if he was watching a porn flick... there was no more emotional involvement than that.

Angelus pulled out when he was spent, sat up, and patted Spike's cheek. Spike curled into a ball on his side and stared at Angelus' back.

'I be a bit stuck, William. I have nowhere else to go, it seems. You must share your rest with me.' With that, Angelus lay back down alongside Spike.

Spike lay rigid, trying not to attract attention. This was the most uncomfortable experience of his life.

Eventually Angelus said in a sleepy, lazy tone, 'You may come close, childe.'

Spike could have spat at him... but he wriggled closer instead.

Angelus put an arm around him, and they lay side-by-side in the dark.

Spike felt tears running down his face, knew that Angelus would be able to smell them, and knew he would probably be enjoying them. Angelus would relish the tears for a while, then relish it even more when he took them away again.

Demon love.

Spike was surprised when he felt Angelus fall asleep alongside him. He'd obviously been in more pain than he had let on. Spike sat up and looked at him. He was glad he was asleep; it saved him prostituting himself anymore on the Angelus cock. Spike didn't care now if he was his sire. That had not been enjoyable. If this experience had proved nothing else for him, it had proved that he was not going to return to his relationship with Angelus.

He lay back down, curled into a ball as far away from Angelus as he could, and went to sleep.

Nothing could have surprised him more when he woke later that night to feel Angelus' finger running in slow, methodical trails up and down his curled spine. Down then up, down then up... agonisingly slow trips. When a cool tongue replaced the finger, he almost cried out but was afraid that Angelus would stop if he knew his childe was awake.

Angelus put his hands on Spike's hip and turned him over. He put a finger to the dried streaks of old tears still visible on Spike's face. Too unrealistic now to feign sleep, Spike opened his eyes.

Angelus looked intently at Spike as if trying to see something in his eyes, then he said quietly, 'You think this is not love?'

'It's not. It's not your fault; you can't love me like I need to be loved, Angelus. You were the first, but one hundred and thirty years is a long time. I've changed too much to settle for your kind of love any more.'

'What kind of love do you want?'

Spike tried to turn away, this question upset him too much, but Angelus didn't let him, 'Tell me, please.'

Spike blinked his eyes slowly. 'I honestly don't know, Angelus. I want to feel passion for somebody. I want to think about them all the time and know they are thinking about me. I want to be first with someone; all to someone. I guess I just want to be loved like I love... but it's not gonna happen: I know that.'

'Why not?'

'Don't be a fucking... err... sorry.... I mean, I'm a demon, Angelus. Who the bloody hell is gonna love me? I can't soddin' go out in the day, and it don't make for much of a relationship. See... can't have a relationship with a human, but demons can't love. Kind of stuffed, aren't I?'

'Maybe another demon could try to love you.... I could try to love you like you want. I seem to be here now not there, so I need to change.'

'Angelus, your idea of love was to let me shine your boots as a treat for moaning well. You are pure demon. You're selfish, egotistical, evil, narcissistic....' Spike saw Angelus' eyes widen in surprise. 'Readers' Digest word power, mate... passes the time. So, sorry Angelus. No way. It's not going to work. You can stay here 'til we figure out what to do with you, but love? Not going to happ....'

Spike's words were cut off by the softest brushing of Angelus' lips on his own. He would have pulled away, but Angelus licked his tongue across Spike's lips and groaned very faintly. He would have said something to stop this going any further, but Angelus had pushed his tongue between Spike's lips and was entwining it with his tongue in a delicious swirl of sweet saliva.

Angelus sat up and wrapped his hands around the back of Spike's head and held him gently to the kiss. Spike felt Angelus' thumbs rubbing in his hair. Angelus pulled away, looked long and hard at the bewildered Spike, and started a slow licking down his throat and across his chest. He stopped on each nipple, teasing the tiny erect peaks with his blunt, human teeth. Spike groaned this time and fell back onto the pillows. Angelus moved on down his belly. He stopped when he reached Spike's groin and passed over his weeping cock to lick his thighs. Spike hissed in anger at himself that he had thought Angelus was going to... oh, he... fuck....

Angelus had taken Spike's erection to the back of his throat. He was sucking on the cockhead; he was using his hands, too, fondling Spike's balls gently, pushing them around in the soft sac. Spike started to sob. He couldn't help it. He heard his own deep moans that told more of confusion and pain than pleasure. How was he supposed to deal with this? He'd given up on love, but here was Angelus, surrendering himself to his childe, pleasuring his childe.

Angelus turned Spike's world on its head and offered him a promise of love that he had thought would never be his.

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