Counting The Ways - 6

Wesley was not the only one thinking that Angel might not take too kindly to this amusing little dalliance. Angelus would have enjoyed it... hell, Angelus would have initiated it, led it, and then fed most vociferously on Wesley when the human had been shagged out... but now... how would a soul affect Angelus' attitude to some of the more exquisite delights of unlife?

Spike tried to picture the scene.

A quiet day at Angel Investigations: Angel comes down the stairs dressed in grey (big surprise there then). Spike and Wesley, two gorgeous men dressed casually, but with effect, are working together in the office... fuck that...

Wesley, an associate of Angel's, is working in the office. Spike - the hero of this drama - is lounging in a provocative way on one of the couches.

Angel: 'What are you doing?'

Spike: 'Lounging provocatively.' Shit, dialogue was hard to do. Stick to the story.

They all decide it's boring and go upstairs and shag.

Hmm. Even Spike could see that this was a major work in progress. Bloody hell, couldn't anyone else do some planning for once? He was saving the watcher and Angel; he was working on Angel's erectile dysfunction - and oh, he just had to remember that little phrase to drop on Angel next time he saw him - and he was helping Angel 'bond' with the fuckup. What more did everyone want? And all that from one plan! Someone else needed to help him keep Wesley and Angel, cus there was one sure thing - he wasn't going to give either up.

Spike lounged provocatively for a while, attempting to take his drama up into the bedroom, but found the action as hard to get right as the dialogue. His characters had an annoying way of going about their own business and ignoring him. Wesley had started to take a shower and Angel was reading a book, and however hard his imaginary self lounged or provoked, no one was shagging him.

He got bored with the fantasy and started flicking the TV channels again. He glanced over at the watcher and realised, with an exasperated sigh, that he would probably be out for very long while. He turned back to watch the telly but suddenly grinned, fished out Wesley's wallet, made a phone call and switched to a much more interesting channel. Oh, yeah. Now that was nice. Spike propped himself up on the pillows for a better view and took his erection, stiffened with Wesley's blood, in his hand.

The girl was on a sunlounger. She had on the briefest of bikini bottoms and her full, ripe breasts pointed deliciously at the cloudless blue sky. Spike watched that intense blue for a moment, then cursed when he realised he'd missed the bit where she pulled her panties aside. The result was good though; her folds opened in all their pink glory to the inquisitive investigation of the camera. As she worked herself, she began to glisten and Spike moaned slightly and increased the speed of his fist on his cock. The camera pulled back and the girl took a bottle of sun oil and dribbled it over her belly; the rivulets of warm oil dripped off her tanned, tight skin and over her fluffy curls.

Riveted, unwilling to look away, Spike leant over and twitched Wesley's blankets down a little - in case he was too hot, like. He glanced away from the TV then and smirked, pleased with the effect Wesley's soft cock and balls made on his tanned, smooth skin. He looked back. That was good, oily finger was now working over the folds, dipping into the creases and crevices, and the camera had moved closer so every droplet of oil sparkled in the sunlight on every soft, blond curl. Wesley's dark curls framed his... Spike giggled quietly, leant over to the cart and arranged some grapes decoratively around the human's soft, hairy globes. He laughed out loud at the effect and went back to watching the girl.

She had become inventive with the bottle of oil - it was disappearing inside, being thrust up to moans of pleasure - Spike was sure she was enjoying this for the camera panned up to her squirming, open mouth every so often, her lips opening and closing with the intensity of the pleasure from the pretend cock.

Spike shifted beds and moved his still life over to one side slightly so he could make better use of having two hands. He knew he was onto a loser expecting Wesley's blood-drained body to produce an erection - hell, he had most of Wesley's blood, and he was enjoying it very much, thank you - but he hoped a slight swell might be forthcoming. He stroked both penises and turned them into the bottle, feeling her tight walls for the both of them.

She withdrew the bottle, opened it and poured a handful of the glistening fluid right over her flushed, spread lips. Spike grinned, grabbed some maple syrup from the cart and did the same to Wesley. The cock was much more fun to pull now and he was getting some faint response. Wesley clearly felt this, too, for he groaned in his deep, coma-like sleep, and whatever dream had flickered across his mind, it helped Spike's enjoyment immensely. Wesley swelled, and the penis rose from its nest of fruit, the syrup running down as Spike hoped it would onto the soft, dark curls. He bent his head, his face still turned to the telly and sucked Wesley like a lollypop as he watched glistening oil pushed in and used to probe deeply into the ragged hole.

Oh. That was interesting. A cock appeared in the shot. A large, erect, cut cockhead hovered over the soft lips. It brushed against the curls; it explored the folds. The girl's moaning increased - as did Spike's sucking. The cock was magnificent, flushed purple and glistening as enticingly as the pink entrance waiting for it.

When the camera panned around slightly, Spike groaned so hard he had to stop sucking and concentrate on his own cock. The shot was now just to one side of the anonymous man's - anyman's - ass and it was hard, like granite, smooth and dimpled in all the right places. Anonymous hand reached out, and Spike waited for the inevitable penetration and was intensely pleased and surprised when the cock went lower, when the hand opened up another hole. He hopped off the bed and dragged the telly closer and to one side of the bed, praying he didn't disconnect the cable, then hopped back on... facing Wesley.

Was this immoral? He certainly hoped so.

He lifted Wesley's thighs and pressed himself to the girl's virgin ass. Obviously it was virgin ass - her look of theatrical shock told him that. He grunted as his cock slid in and she poured some more oil over both of them, the camera overhead with a perfect shot of her spread pussy and his glistening shaft pushing in through her tiny, tight ring. With his head turned to the side, watching, he smiled at the toned belly thrusting into her - not as toned as his, but he didn't expect they got many vampires in porn... and now, that was a thought, and a whole new plan... fuck it, this was good enough, and look at that bloody sky!

He began a slow working of his cock inside the girl. She groaned in a low, masculine, ragged voice, so he started to hum slightly to cover her up, but eventually leant over to turn the TV up, and that was much more effective. The music was good too - music for anonymous humping.

The girl was working herself as he pounded into her ass, her fingers wriggling in her hot cunt, rubbing hard on her clit. He'd seen girls rub harder, but then his experience was a little unique and he forgave her - she couldn't really compete with the dead or the supernatural.

She dipped her fingers into herself and shoved them in to match his thrusting and he knew he was beginning to cum. He smiled as the other butt clenched and stilled and, as the girl was filled by every anonymous man's cum, she screamed out her orgasm to the bright sunny day.

Spike grunted in satisfaction and pulled out. He looked down at Wesley and noted how pale he was looking, how cold his skin felt and pulled the blankets back over them both and made them as comfortable as possible in the narrow, single bed. He lazily watched the rest of the film for a while - more penetrations - it got dark - it got light again - he came a few more times, occasionally over Wesley, sometimes into the cool sheets. He stayed awake until the horse had finished, but then he drifted off into a pleasant, relaxed sleep, wondering briefly about events in the Hyperion, but not caring enough to stir.

Wesley woke first.

He stretched as best he could in the cramped bed and felt... wonderful. He felt completely relaxed as if a huge, immovable weight from around his neck had been cut loose. Whatever the outcome of Spike's plan, whatever happened between him and Angel, he knew now that what he had done, he had done for the best, and with the best of motives in his heart. Yes, he had been wrong. Yes, it had all gone terribly, terribly wrong... but, given the same information and the same set of circumstances, he would do the same thing again. He smiled and felt that his life could now go on. It might take different turns, turns that might take him away from Angel, away from LA, but it was not over... and that was a good thought. He turned his head and looked toward the bright sunlight behind the closed curtains. It seemed appropriate somehow, as if he were at the end of a long, dark tunnel and light was ahead of him.

He tried to stretch again and felt the hard, sinewy body pressed to him… the body that was so much of the darkness.

He felt strangely... sticky and started to pick squashed, extremely gummy grapes from his crotch with annoyance. The TV was hissing on full volume and had been dragged close to the bed. He leant over and switched it off. He had a worrying impression that he had been at a party in his absence. He looked at his bandaged wrist and then down at the sleeping vampire.

He had fed this creature his blood. Part of him was inside that… dead body. His blood was inside… that demon. Wesley sat up, feeling incredibly nauseous and tried to put this down to the blood loss, the over-exertion and not having had any supper. He hung his head and concentrated on not vomiting. He looked up when the waves of nausea passed and saw a bottle of beer open on the nightstand. He felt his stomach rise and just made it to the bathroom before he heaved and wretched dryly into the toilet bowl. Feeling better he stood weakly and crept back into the bedroom. He was afraid Spike would wake at the noise, and he didn't want to have to face him yet. He was about to slide back into his warm side when he looked down in dismay. The bed was full of bits of food; blood stains smeared the sheets; a familiar crusty yellowness mocked him from the white cotton; blood and… other substances streaked the carpet; food was squashed into every crevice of his body: it seemed Spike's party for one had been a fun affair for those that had been invited.

Wesley heaved again and dashed for the bathroom, holding his head weakly over the stained bowl. Finally empty, he sat on the edge of the bathtub, thinking. After a while he heard Spike groan, shift in the bed and curse slightly. Wesley got up, grabbed a towel and, tying it around his waist, went directly out in to the bright sunshine on the balcony. Even if Spike woke fully, he would not be able to come within half the room's width of him here… in this vampire-free zone.

The sun was incredibly good on his naked skin, and Wesley leant on the rail, watching normal life pass him by. Every inch of his body ached; his legs were stiff; his back hurt; one hand felt as if he had played a vigorous game of tennis; his head felt split open and throbbed its blood loss to the rest of his aching nerves… but his mind became calm when he thought about the baby. He tipped his head up as if acknowledging a debt to some higher being and allowed himself to think about Angel. He smiled. Angel understood about redemption and forgiveness. If Angel could see no guilt in his eyes, perhaps the vampire would understand why he had done what he had done.

He turned and glanced into the room once more. Spike was still comatose on the bed, and he was glad. He could not face Spike yet. He needed more time to think about this… this situation. What had he gotten himself into? Why was he allowing himself to be degraded by a vampire? He thought about Spike's body and noticed with alarm, but also some faint amusement that his cock twitched merely at the thought of that sinewy, hard form. Then he thought about the things he had done with that unnatural body, and he felt sick inside… in his heart, in his head - where he usually felt so pure. That was it… in one way he felt so vindicated, happy that he had forgiven himself, pleased he had a future… but Spike was like a dark smudge on this new start. He did not fool himself: his body wanted Spike, but his head and his heart wanted to move away from the darkness of guilt and on into the light of forgiveness.

He had been using Spike to explore the true meaning of pain, substituting Spike for another vampire he had wanted to confront those issues with.

Spike turned in the bed, and Wesley backed slightly more against the rail as if this simple act of turning threatened him. He wanted Spike to be gone from his life… but he needed Spike to confront Angel for him. It was a dilemma and a test of his resolve.

He went quietly back into the room. Seeing Angel again won out over self-disgust.



Spike either heard his entrance, or had been awake all along for without rising from the bed or opening his eyes, he said, 'What time is it?'

Not noticing the lack of the usual fond names in Spike's address, Wesley glanced at his watch, informing Spike with surprise that it was nearly lunchtime. 'No wonder I feel hungry.'

Spike wriggled one eyebrow and stretched lazily. 'I don't.'

Wesley flushed. 'Don't think that's going to be a regular feature of our relationship, Spike. I had some issues I needed to... well, suffice to say, I won't be risking that again.'

'Relationship? So you ain't falling down that 'ole and not seeing me anymore then?' Spike sounded strangely bitter as he said this and sat up without catching Wesley's eye.

Wesley backed away, and the thought "No hole big enough" flashed across his mind, but he kept thoughts of Angel uppermost in his mind and sat next to Spike on the bed.

'I'm not sure I have any choice in the matter; I need you.' If Spike noticed the ambiguity in this reply, he didn't say. He gave Wesley an impenetrable look then slid his hand under the knotted towel. He fiddled around for a while then frowned.

'I'm disappointed, watcher; where's the early morning urgency I enjoyed the other day?'

Wesley eased the hand out and glanced at the detritus of sex in the bed. 'It went away with someone's late night urgency, I think.'

Spike gave up and just moved closer for a kiss. He gave Wesley a light peck then sat back, studying the lack of response from the human. 'We've not done that much, have we? Everything else, but not that.' He sounded almost wistful, and Wesley gradually felt a more responsive mood washing over him - he couldn't help it. He didn't want the degradation and the pain - lips, caresses and gentle endearments, however, he was starved for, and like any starving man… he fed when food was offered. He wanted those lips; he wanted the intimacy of kissing this vampire. He grasped Spike and pushed him back onto the bed; he climbed over him once more, laying his whole, heavy, warm body on him. Spike moaned in pleasure, and Wesley took the moan as his entry to the soft mouth he craved. Spike lost himself to the kiss. He didn't think about fucking or his erection; he was lost to Wesley. Kissing this human was almost as good as feeding off him, and even though he sensed Wesley was distracted, he needed this intimacy; he needed someone just to want him.

Wesley couldn't concentrate on the kiss; Angel still dominated his thoughts. Eventually he pushed Spike away and covered this action by exaggerating his need to breathe.

Spike made to hug him - as if the human's weakness made him even more desirable - but Wesley stood up and moved back into the sunshine that was streaking in through the window. With his back to Spike, he spoke firmly. 'You should go. We need to get your plan to action. What's first?'

Spike frowned slightly. It never did to put one of his plans under too much scrutiny - they were usually better when they were allowed to evolve naturally. 'Angel's being told soon. I wanna be there when he is.' He watched the human's back thoughtfully, but did not comment on the outcome of that musing.

Wesley did not feel Spike's gaze and replied rather hesitantly. 'Oh.'

'What's that for?'

'I don't... I want... Spike, what if he doesn't care?'

Spike had no answer for this, so only swung off the bed and began to dress.

Wesley turned and watched. 'What should I do?'

'Stay here. I'll tell you when it's time, and where. Hey, you can watch the porn channel; you've paid for it after all.' With that last amused comment tossed over his shoulder, Spike left before he felt belligerent enough to call the human on his fickle passion.

He made slow progress through the unfamiliar sewer system, still mulling angrily over the events of the morning with Wesley. He arrived, with no conscious volition of his own, at just the right time. He took this as a message of support from the fates and stood back to watch developments.

Cordelia was at her desk. Fred and Gunn were cleaning weapons and giggling together on one of the couches. The demon was doing something at the reception desk that looked like knitting - but Spike didn't even want to pursue that thought. Connor, like a master strategist, was lurking around looking moody. Spike was impressed; he'd clearly been practicing his 'I've just found a dead body' look, for he slouched particularly well and had a hang-dog expression on his face that even Spike would have been hard pressed to match.

On cue, Angel came down the stairs. His hair was a little rumpled, and he tried to straighten it. His shirt was half tucked in, so he pulled it out. He'd been asleep and was still muzzy. Perfect. Spike grinned and leant a little way into Wesley's office, able to see the action but not be noticed too much.

'Father.'

Angel looked up, not particularly perturbed. 'What?'

'I have... I have something to tell you.'

Cordelia looked up, but there was no particular cognisance in the look. Spike felt again that frisson of doubt that he'd forgotten something important.

'What, Connor? You can tell me anything, you know that.' Angel already had the look on his face of a parent resigned to being told bad teenage happenings.

'I went to that man, Wesley's, apartment...'

Everyone looked at the boy. Lorne even stopped the thing he was doing with coloured ribbons that Spike didn't want to think about. Gunn put a hand on Fred's arm; Fred stopped the standing movement she had begun.

Angel came right into the lobby with a deep frown on his face. 'Why?'

'I needed to see him, to ask him why he did it.' Good one! Spike hadn't seen that coming and was impressed. Not as good as his story, and wouldn't sell so many copies, but probably better in the circumstances.

Angel started to speak, but Connor interrupted. 'He's dead.'

It occurred to Spike fairly rapidly after that, what he had forgotten. Fred gasped and flung herself at Connor, asking a rush of unanswerable questions. Cordelia, bizarrely, flung herself on Angel and pounded on his chest ineffectually and ... wow, where had she leant those words, again, impressed! Gunn was hovering uselessly like most men in a crisis, but Lorne… ah, that was interesting, the demon was looking directly at him, and the look was not one of unmanageable grief. Spike squirmed slightly under the gaze, but turned his eyes back to the interesting activities in the lobby.

Thank the powers he had forgotten to let the others in on his plan! Again - another sign! For this was better than he could have hoped for. He was extremely pleased with how all this was going and wanted to hear the bit about the hanging and the straining sheets, the heavy body and the bulgy eyes - he'd not mentioned the stain of a hanged man's last shuddering cum to the boy, thinking this inappropriate for his audience, but began to wonder if it was too late now to bring it into the story.

Fending Cordelia off, Angel managed to ask the appropriate questions of his son. When Connor told of the suicide, all voices stilled in the lobby.

Surprisingly, it was Gunn who broke the shocked silence. 'You should have talked to him, man. This is bad.'

Angel gave him a piercing look. From his position in the doorway, Spike could not tell whether this was a look of "you are stating the bleeding obvious" or "I'm the dark brooding avenger and my word is law!" Spike liked turning Angel into Judge Dredd and tried it again, giggling quietly at the effect of total pomposity it achieved. He glanced once more at Lorne and discovered, to his utter annoyance, that the demon was still staring at him. He let one finger rise surreptitiously against his leg and knew that Lorne had seen the sign. He twitched up an eyebrow to the penetrating appraisal and turned back to the weeping and the wailing.

He almost missed Angel's exit, which would have been a pity, as the vampire had to do that dark-avenger exit peeling off one furious female and shaking off the other. He looked up at the stairs, seeking escape, clearly decided that it wasn't safe enough from female wrath, and headed towards his training room and presumably the sewers. If a comment about shit returning where it belonged caught his ears, Angel clearly ignored it, and appeared to give Cordelia the benefit of the doubt that he had misheard some other soft, polite words.

Angel left a vacuum of grief behind him. Connor looked around bewildered at the reaction to his simple tale. He then looked over at Spike with a questioning look, and Spike came out from his hiding place in the doorway.

Lorne came towards him. Spike turned to Connor to congratulate him, but was floored by a surprisingly hard punch in the face from the furious demon.

'Bloody fuck! What was that for?' Spike shied away a little as he stood, but Lorne grabbed him by his lapels and dragged him centre stage.

'Tell them!'

'What? All right, all right. He's not really dead you tossers, bit tired maybe,' he grinned, but quickly got back to his explanation as he saw Lorne's expression. 'He's perfectly safe an' holed up in a hotel. Ouch! What! Bleedin' hell woman - I'm chipped, no fair! No! Let me go... bugger off... hey! Two against… bleedin' hell, three… 'gainst one… not fucking cricket and fucking not shitting football either. Oi! No balls! Bad analogy! Shit, mind me nuts! Jesus… demon! Help!'

Lorne took pity on Spike and stood between the three furious humans and the vampire. 'Hey! Jolly-green-giant steps back. Now! We can kill gorgeous tail-on-fire after he tells us the score.'

Spike looked at Connor and winked. 'Good job, mate.'

Connor smiled nervously at him. He'd only known one human his entire life, and living with Holtz in a hell dimension had hardly prepared him to cope with Cordelia and Fred in a mood.

Cordelia pushed her way past Lorne and slammed Spike into the counter. She was surprisingly strong, and a brief thought of suntan oil flickered into Spike's mind. He opened his mouth to comment on this when she slapped him viciously across his face. 'We love, Wesley! You had no right to tell us that.'

Spike pursed his lips, his thoughts running along a continuum from "Fuck off and die, all of you" to "I love Angel, and I'd do anything it takes to help him" and settled on, 'Angel will realise he's been all wrong 'bout this now. Someone needed to do something.'

He seemed to have picked on the right thing to say for once. This struck a chord with all of them and seemed to mirror what they had been thinking, but had been too close to the drama to act upon.

Surprisingly, Connor helped the situation by saying quietly, 'Father is very sad, and I would wish him happier.'

Cordelia turned to him, thoughtfully, clearly thinking about Angel. She looked at Gunn and Fred. 'There's not been much happiness here recently, has there?'

Fred came up to Spike, and he flinched a little. She laughed, a light peeling laugh. 'Oh, ah don't hit like Cordelia can. I'm too littl', but tell me again. He's safe?'

Spike stared, mesmerised by her soft words, and the love for Wesley evident in her eyes - and if he ever ended up that love-wussy with anyone, someone stake him. Please. He answered with his best "I'm a soddin' vampire and don't give a shit about anyone'" tone in his voice and told her Wesley was as safe as a proverbial. Fred smiled and hugged herself delightedly and turned to the others with joy in her voice. 'He's okay; he's not dead.'

Spike took his opportunity. 'See! See how much better that makes you feel. Couldn't have felt that without feeling so shitty first, could you? Now that's what Angel's gonna feel, too. So, what hymns should we 'ave at the funeral, do you think?'



To Lorne's amazement, the humans got into an excited huddle, planning Wesley's funeral. The girls began to discuss what they would wear; Gunn what size of limo they could afford. He grimaced, grabbed the offending vampire once more by his lapels, and dragged him complaining into Wesley's office and kicked the door shut behind him with his foot. He advanced on Spike, who backed away, looking hurt and innocent. 'What? What?'

'You - foolish vampires, both of you. Angelpie, so tight in his own misery he can't see out of it, and you... you... playing with forces you can't even begin to imagine. What do you think Angel is going to do now, bro?'

'Well...'

'What if he's off somewhere, staking himself?'

Spike brow creased.

'Oh yes, so sure of Angel's love for Wesley, weren't you? Well, kudus to you, little blood sucker, cus you were right. Angel does love Wesley; I know that; you know that... but you don't know how much. You've thrown a spark into a powder-keg, and I only hope the explosion blows that little cocksure smile off your face.'

Spike felt a pout coming on and tried to change it into the cocksure smile he'd just been accused of. No good. 'You don't really think...'

'I don't know, little one; if I knew that I'd have risked doing something like this myself.'

'Maybe I should go after...' His reply was cut off by laughter from the lobby, and he took the opportunity to escape and stomped out furiously. Gunn and Cordelia had Fred laid out on the floor and were saying sombre prayers for her dearly departed soul. Spike shook his head in disbelief 'Jees, remind me never to use any of you in one of me plans again. The kid's worth a hundred of you. What if the poof comes back suddenly? You've gotta keep up the story until Wesley makes his dramatic appearance an' all the kissing's over. Got it!'

They stood, sobering down and trying to suppress the mirth they had not felt for so long.

Spike nodded approvingly, glanced challengingly at Lorne and said determinedly, 'So... hymns.'