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The Darkling Plain

Episode 1

Chapter 6


When Spike returned to the apartment, once more the washer was on, and once more, he heard Angel in the shower. It seemed very fortuitous, and he perched on a bar stool, waiting for him to emerge.

Angel came out of the shower, rubbing his hair with a towel. He looked tired again, strung out, but Spike just sat patiently until he was noticed.

Angel tied the towel around his waist, glanced up at the sun and then saw Spike.

He hesitated then came over, going to the fridge for some blood. He glanced at the washer then away quickly.

Spike sighed, felt the notes heavy in his pocket and said deceptively casually, 'Angel…?'

Angel poured the blood into a mug and took a swallow, looking at Spike over the rim as he drank.

Spike gritted his teeth at the silence but ploughed on. 'About this… thing. I mean… us. Living together….'

Angel reached Spike's side so quickly that Spike tipped slightly on the stool and grabbed the counter for support.

'No. You're not leaving me. Fuck, what have I done?' Angel seized Spike to him in a hard, possessive hug. 'Fuck. Fuck. Don't leave me, Spike. Nothing else matters. I swear: nothing….'

'Hey!' Spike pushed him off and fished in his pocket. 'I'm not bloody leaving you… I just wanna pay my way more.' He laid the money on the counter and looked at it, pleased with himself for being so self-supporting.

Angel glanced down. 'What's that?'

'Rent. I want to contribute to things. I want to be….'

'You're my....' Angel frowned. 'Childe. For one thing. Of course I provide for you.'

'Oh, fuck off, Angel. You know that's a load of ancient crap. It's not what we are now. I wanna be able to feel this is my place too.'

Angel pulled him back into the tight hug. 'Okay.'

'What?'

'Okay.' He picked up the money.

Spike pushed him away again. 'You're going to take it?'

Angel chuckled. 'What did you expect? That I'd refuse and let you keep it - conscience salved and lots of nice money to spend?'

'NO! Of course not.' Spike got angrily off the stool, gave the money a last, fond look and went to the fridge himself. He waved a blood bag at Angel. 'See? Mine now properly.'

Angel began to count the money, casting Spike small, amused looks. Spike watched him sourly.

'This is too much.'

'No. It's what.… I mean, I checked.'

'It's usually less if you take an apartment long term.'

'Oh. So… I'll get a discount?'

'Yeah. Depends on how long you figure on staying.'

Spike put his mug down and came back around the counter. He pushed Angel back onto the stool and stood between his thighs. 'How much off for forever?'

Angel bent to the welcoming lips and smiled into the kiss.

Eventually, they pulled apart, and Angel picked up the money. 'You can joke about these things, but blood is still blood. I'll give this to Sam and tell him to invest it in something for you - long term, if you ever need it.'

Spike began to chuckle. Angel gave him a look, and Spike waved his hand dismissively. 'Yeah, you do that, Pet. I think he'll appreciate the irony. Now. I'm thinking….' He slid his hands under the towel. 'Oh, yeah. I was right. So, Mr Broody, are you gonna help me christen this fucking place properly? By… well… fucking!'

Angel held Spike's hands under the towel, encouraging the soft play, using Spike hands as he liked to use his own. He tipped his head back with a pleased moan. Spike fell to his knees and disappeared under the towel. Angel looked down at the erotic sight and held onto the counter for support to control his urgent need to come.

The washer tipped into its fast spin and the sound dominated the apartment. Angel gave it a look but, gritting his teeth, managed to ignore it. He'd done what he'd done, and now he had to live with it. He couldn't give either of them up.

He quickly got bored of not being able to see Spike and ripped the towel off. Then he could watch as the finely drawn lips ran up his shaft, as the mouth eased off and the tongue lapped at his hot tip. In the bright sunlight, the colour of his shaft amazed him, made him flush with desire for the release that would soon pound through it. Easing off the stool, he pulled Spike to his feet, kissing him as he pushed him back toward the bed.

Sensuously, he eased his hands under Spike's T-shirt and pulled it off. He tried not to show that he smelt the human all over his lover. It only reaffirmed decisions he had made. Tugging Spike to him with the button of his jeans, though, he said a little bitterly, 'Sure you're up for this?'

Spike held his hands. 'Just you, Angel. Whatever else I do, it's always just you. You know that.'

Angel dipped his head in pleasure and wondered if he could learn from his childe in this. Spike took over the slow undressing and murmured with a chuckle, 'Déjà vu.'

Angel wasn't listening; he was waiting for the first glimpse of Spike's cock, working his own lazily just to keep the edge there.

Spike let his jeans drop to the floor and stepped out of them. 'So….' He grinned and licked his lips. 'Who does what?'

Angel laughed. 'I'm doing you.'

Spike raised his eyes, but before he could protest further, Angel swept him close, a strong arm snaking around his slim waist. He pulled Spike in for a kiss. Just before their lips met, he whispered, 'I'm sorry.'

Spike sighed and draped his arms over Angel's shoulders. 'Hey, who's been putting up with me all this time? You're owed.'

Angel stroked his finger down Spike's cheek. 'I don't put up with you; I love you.'

Spike smiled. 'Yeah, I know.'

Angel grabbed him urgently. 'I mean it! Remember that, Spike.'

'Okay! Okay! How about less talk… and more… do?'

Angel bowed his head then raised it with burning eyes. 'Yeah. Lie back.'

With a groan of need, Spike fell back onto the bed, and Angel was on him. They kissed deeply with a level of need Spike had not felt in Angel for a while. He responded and rolled them, lips clashing frantically, tongues seeking and probing, rare breath beginning and uniting them.

Hands roamed with increasing desire over cool, smooth flesh. Rivers of crystal-clear fluid pumped from swollen cocks, pooled on ridged abs, glistened on dark, rough hair.

Angel reached for Spike's sac and lifted it in his palm, rubbing the balls together gently. Spike arched in pleasure and ran his hands over his cock as if sheathing it in the lightest gossamer silk. Another hand joined his, playing alongside his own, matching their fond pleasure in the feel of the veined, rigid shaft.

Angel tipped onto his side alongside Spike, propped up on his elbow. Lazily, he trailed a finger in slow swirls over Spike's bare chest. He traced the prominent lines of the ribs, ran lightly up to a nipple and felt the tiny nub under his sensitive fingertip. Spike made a small sound in his throat and tensed. Angel glanced at him through lowered lids. 'Like that?'

Spike nodded and stretched his arms above his head. Angel pinched the nipple up, causing the nerve endings to fire off. Spike's penis lifted involuntarily, twitching off his belly, and the flow of precum increased.

He turned his head and looked at Angel, his eyes dilated, despite the intense light from the sun that bathed their skin in amber warmth.

Suddenly, Spike frowned, and he put a hand to Angel's cheek, turning it slightly. He began to chuckle, and Angel looked up from his intense scrutiny of a small, leaking slit, pouting slightly. 'What?'

'You're getting a tan.'

Angel jerked his head back and shook it in denial. 'Impossible. Where? Damn. I want to see.'

Spike smiled and stroked his cheek. 'Suits you.'

Angel suddenly flipped Spike over, ignoring the cursing and inspected him carefully. 'Jeez. Look… your neck.'

Spike rolled back, and they began to laugh. Suddenly, he jumped up and grabbed Angel's hand. 'Follow me.'

Angel began to protest, but was dragged from his comfortable place on the bed. Spike led him to his room and toward the raised bed. When Angel hung back, he turned and said quietly, 'You said this was to bring my friends. Well, I want to christen it with my best one.'

Angel blinked and mounted the few steps. They crawled over the covers and came together in a tangle of need. Slick, glistening, they slipped over each other, skin warming skin deliciously.

Angel went first, pushing into Spike so easily that he embedded fully, his balls hitting the slim body with a satisfactory thump. He rose over the supine paleness and began to work himself in and out slowly, watching the effect on his lover: the eyes dilating even more now in the shade of the room, his cheeks showing the faintest flush from the pleasure suffusing his body, and his fingers curling and uncurling on the covers.

He drew out the pleasure, kept them both at a peak of orgasm for a very long time, until almost independently, his balls hardened beyond tolerance, and he had to relieve the pressure, had to coalesce the pleasure into a furious release that shot like a geyser into the receptive channel. Spike cried out as the rush hit him, and one touch on his own tight shaft sent it into a furious, pumping release.

They were so wet, their bodies made slight slurping sounds as they eased onto each other, sated. Spike stretched his arms up in a lazy, filled gesture and dislodged the curtain slightly. Craning his head back, he huffed in disbelief. ''S dark.'

Angel looked up without really caring. 'Yeah.'

'Didn't we kinda start this before lunch…?'

Angel looked pleased, and Spike gave him a dig in the ribs for being vain. He knelt up and pulled the curtain off his large window, peering out for the first time. With a small cry of delight, he unlatched it and clambered out.

Angel watched him with amusement.

Spike stood on a small, walled area, too small to be called a balcony, grander than a ledge. Gargoyles guarded the four corners, and the space inside was almost enough for him to lie either way. He leaned on the wall and peered over.

Angel slipped out behind him and leaned too. 'See the view?'

'Yeah. It's amazing.' They could see over the whole district they now lived in: all the old houses and private gardens, and toward the lights of the newer part of the city.

Spike gave him a look and crawled back inside, emerging in a moment with his cigarettes. He lit two and passed one to Angel, hopping up to sit astride the wall. Angel copied him, and they smoked contentedly, breaking off occasionally to press nicotine-laden kisses on each other.

'I'm sorry I've been….'

Spike put his finger to Angel's lips. 'We've covered this.'

Angel gave him a quick look. 'I know. But I want you to understand how important you are to me - whatever happens. Whatever changes.'

'I do know, Luv. I just find it…. It's just hard sometimes, yeah? I don't feel I deserve all this.' He made one tiny gesture with his hand and encompassed the apartment, the new life and Angel in that small wave.

Angel flicked his cigarette out into the night sky. 'Pay it forward.'

'What?'

'It's what Nate said to me.' He glanced over to see how this casual reference was received and saw only a small tightening of the jaw. 'He said he was helping you so that you would be in debt for your soul.'

Spike frowned. 'To him.'

'No, to life. To God, perhaps. To the universe in general - so you will pay the debt forward.'

They stared out at the calm night, pondering this, and finally, Spike said softly, 'To you, I think.'

Angel sighed. 'Don't endow me with superhuman qualities - not of goodness anyway. I do questionable things even though I know they will hurt you.'

'We both do.'

Angel nodded sadly and did not pursue this conversation further. He glanced down at the street. 'We must look like naked gargoyles from down there.' He slid into game face and leered over. Spike laughed and play punched him. Successfully deflected from investigating what Angel was doing that would hurt him, Spike slid back in through the window and claimed owner's rights on the largest part of the bed.

When he woke, he was alone. The curtains had been pulled carefully together, and he sensed it was day.

Stretching, scratching his belly, he felt a huge rumble of hunger and climbed leisurely off the bed. He made his way sleepily out of the room and stuck his head in the fridge, trying to decide whether to bother heating breakfast.

He pulled out a blood bag and ripped it open in his teeth. A movement caught his eye, and he glanced toward the elevator. He jumped and yelped. 'Bloody hell! Jordan!' He glared in fury at figure. 'What the fuck are you doing? Change back!'

The figure stayed stubbornly in the form of the dead priest.

Spike slammed his breakfast into the sink and stomped over to him. 'Is this some warped thing you and Sam have thought up to help me… overcome… something? Do you think I'm gonna feel all better about….'

'Hello, Spike.'

Spike swallowed, refused to believe what his senses were telling him to believe, and ploughed on in his fiction. 'I'm not some soddin' head case that you can play these….'

'Perhaps you could….' The figure waved at Spike's nakedness.

Spike wrapped his arms around his chest and bit his lower lip. 'This is not happening to me.'

The priest just raised an eyebrow.

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