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The Definition of Normal - 4

The transition back to the real world was surprisingly easy. Neither vampire knew anything about it until they awoke to find revolting black liquid being forced down their throats. Angel was brought around first, and he helped Wesley administer the antidote to Spike.

Wesley outlined the quite prosaic events of the demon capture, milking, and killing. Angel and Spike eyed each other warily from their respective sides of the bed. Wesley, sensing the tension between them, made a discreet exit, promising to wait for Angel in the car.

Spike swung his legs off the bed. `Least we're not naked, hey?'

Angel didn't reply but watched him as he paced uncertainly around the crypt. He didn't want to have to ask if Spike was coming back with him directly, so just said quietly, `Well?'

`Well... I'm hungry.'

`Spike!' Angel's face was unreadable; his tense body was not.

`I've got no blood here....' Seeing that Angel was too focused to be played with, Spike sighed, came back to Angel's side of the bed, and hopped up next to him. He took Angel's rigid face in his hands and stroked up the cheekbones with his thumb. `Poof... I've got no blood... you've got lots in LA... fancy extending an invitation? Least for a few days?'

Angel didn't reply, but pushed Spike back onto the bed and captured his mouth. Spike opened up to Angel with all the passion and need in his strong, eternal body. Limbs became entwined; they rubbed their bodies urgently together to gain maximum friction. Hard, flat chests slid together; just the merest suggestion of peaked nipple grazed the other's; bellies worked and flexed to unnecessary panting. They tumbled over and over on the bed, writhing in their mutual need for one another. Spike wrapped his arms behind Angel's head and tried to open his mouth ever wider to the violent kisses raining down on his lips. Angel's hand slid down to release Spike's clothing. Spike helped him, raising his hips off the bed as Angel ripped the jeans away. He brought his legs up and braced his feet in the hollows of Angel's shoulder. Angel smiled and sat back on his heels, putting his hands thoughtfully to the feet, caressing them.

Spike was in no mood for talking or playing; he thrashed his head from side-to-side and urged his hips towards Angel's straining erection. Angel licked one finger and pushed it into Spike's hole.

They both paused at that intimate gesture. Spike suddenly realised that they had not connected like this for over a hundred years. As the initial lust and urgency of the kiss evaporated, deep vampire bonds of filial obedience and sire domination rose in their place. Angel threw back his head as he swirled his finger in the soft, enticing channel. Spike began a light, soft purring. Angel withdrew his finger and, releasing himself with one hand, held his erection to the soft entrance. Watching intently, he eased it through the ring of muscle that stretched to accommodate its only possessor. He looked at Spike, tipped his head slightly to one side and, to Spike's utter delight, slipped into game face as he began to thrust. Angel grinned a small feral grin. `Don't you remember how to behave, childe?'

Spike nodded with a slight, self-deprecating laugh and joined Angel in his demonic guise. They were free of the human reality that had tried to seduce them. They were pure vampires: thrusting, bleeding, taking, possessing, and acquiescing. Spike writhed to the penetration; Angel thrust as if trying to make up for a century of abstinence. He took Spike's feet off his shoulder and bent the legs right over to touch the bed either side of the blond hair. He pressed down on the backs of Spike's thighs as he rode into the blood- slick hole. Spike's purring turned into a low, angry growling, and Angel knew that this tiny bit of resistance was designed to bring him off, knew it was Spike's small offering to his dominator. Angel hit him hard across his raised backside, grateful for his disobedience, and knew that Spike was pleased. Angel hit him again, felt his balls starting to swell and throb, and dug his fingers into Spike as he heaved the last few thrusts. When his release hit him, Angel stilled against Spike's raised cheeks. He looked down to where his penis throbbed its load into the waiting hole and sighed a deep, reverential sigh of pleasure. He twitched slightly and jerked fractionally from side-to-side, just to bring off the last few drops, then sank down gratefully, releasing Spike's legs to fall to the mattress.

When Angel looked up, he was in his human form again. He twitched his eyebrow up at Spike and leant forward. A cool tongue licked up the whole of Spike's shaft from the nest of dark curls to the slick tip that shone dully with precum. Spike clamped his legs around Angel's waist, preventing him from pulling out, but with a cheeky grin at Angel's consequent contortion, pushed Angel's head down as far as it could go onto his cock. It wasn't a traditional way for a sire to reward his childe for a good orgasm, but they had never been traditional in bed together. Angelus blamed his childe for being too attractive; Spike blamed his sire for being fundamentally a poof. Either way, Spike started to enjoy his familiar post-shag blow. He grinned again and deliberately held Angel's face hard into his groin. He felt Angel smile in recognition around the thick shaft; they were both enjoying the fact that Angel did not need to breathe.

Angel treated Spike to the back of his throat, pushing the sensitive tip down even further than that once or twice. Denied this for so long, Spike didn't hold back his release. He stretched his arms above his head and began a murmured, `Yeah, fuck yeah.' Incredibly, he felt Angel's penis swell in him once more. He continued to moan his pleasure, pleased that it turned Angel on. He raised his head slightly and, putting his hands once more to the back of Angel's head, whispered, `Come with me, luv... please?' He felt, rather than heard, Angel's groan of reply, felt Angel start to thrust into him once more as he increased the pressure of his mouth. A high-pitched scream cut the damp air of the crypt, and neither vampire was sure who made the sound. Angel's mouth vibrated on Spike's cock; his sperm shot once more into the tight channel, and Spike released himself deep into Angel's throat with an explosive orgasm that left him panting and exhausted. Finally, Angel let Spike slip from his lips; he grazed his tongue over the slick column as it eased out, giving a tiny, final lick to the still leaking tip. Spike pulled Angel's mouth to him, and they swapped his taste between them. Angel could feel Spike mouthing `Poof, poof, poof' against him and retaliated by biting his lips slightly and sucking a while on the trickle of blood. At last, Spike pushed Angel away, swirling one finger enticingly on his swollen lip. He looked down to where they were still joined and let his legs fall open. Angel sat back on his heels, raising one eyebrow in anticipation.


Spike licked his lips and nodded. Inch by torturous inch, Angel eased himself out of Spike. Quite undone and unable to watch the exquisite journey – one of his favourite parts of all this pleasure – Spike lay back staring at the ceiling of the crypt. Once again, he voiced his delight, and Angel smiled as he heard the soft, heart-felt `Oh, yeah.'

The last inch was the best, and Angel pulled Spike back to sitting so they could both watch the ridged head emerge, and watch the spent cum ooze out. Angel took hold of Spike's finger and pressed it into the hole for a moment, swirling it around and making Spike pleasure himself. Spike shook his head ruefully at Angel's game, but didn't complain too much. Angel withdrew the finger and put it teasingly to his own lips, then swallowed it whole, sucking it with the same delight and urgency he had just devoted to Spike's penis. Spike laughed and forced Angel to kiss him instead, then slid around to whisper in Angel's ear, `Bet you're glad I'm a vampire right now!' Angel laughed, and they lay down next to each other on the bed, both staring contentedly at nothing.



`How long you think Wesley's gonna wait for us then?'

`As long as it takes. He's good like that.'

`Oh. Good. So that's not him coming down the steps then?'

Spike was impressed with the speed with which Angel's cock disappeared from sight. It was almost like a magic trick: now you see it and have your hand lightly caressing it - now you don't. He was even more impressed with Angel's ability to find his jeans and dress him before the human legs had even appeared in view. Spike could hardly contain his amusement at Angel's complete faith in the fact that being dressed, they must now pass muster. He rather thought the rumpled, blood-stained sheets, the intense smell of cum, the bitten, swollen lips, and the dishevelled hair were all a bit of a give away, but he didn't want to ruin Angel's illusions. He swaggered past Wesley with a cheeky grin and started to pull his boots on.

`Are you coming yet?' Wesley thought he heard Spike giggle, but put it down to the effort of getting his boots on.

`Err... yes... we are.'


`Err... yes... Spike's coming with me... for a few days, at least.'

Wesley folded his arms. Spike heard the underlying tension in Angel's voice and looked up, surprised. This was not the playful, masterful sire he had been getting reacquainted with. This sounded more like... more like... a minion talking. Spike had never heard Angel address anyone like that.

`I do not think it at all wise for Spike to live with us, Angel.'

`He'll be living with me, Wesley. There's plenty of room in the hotel. Fred lives there.' Angel's voice was sulky. Spike wanted to go over to him and tease him into pleasure again. He didn't like this new, put-upon Angel.

`If you want, Angel. What you do in your own time is your business. Hurry up though, will you? Some of us have work to do.' Wesley turned and walked back up the steps. He left no doubt in either vampire's mind that he did not approve of, or condone, what he clearly suspected had been going on.

Spike went hesitantly over to Angel. `He's just jealous, pet. He radiates desire for you....' Angel wanted to keep up his sulky annoyance at being chastised by Wesley in front of his childe, but the sexy, provocative, teasingly ridiculous way that Spike intoned the last part of his speech made him laugh. He pulled Spike into his arms.

`I'm so glad you're coming back with me. Come on, my little bulwark; I've never needed you so much....'

Spike was more pleased than he cared to let Angel know... knew that Angel did know, so started contentedly to stuff a few bits and pieces into an old kitbag.

They were initially quiet in the car. Wesley sat in the back, Spike in the passenger seat next to Angel. The vampires desperately wanted to talk, but felt the inhibiting presence of the ex-watcher watching them closely from behind. Surreptitiously, Angel sneaked a hand out to the air-conditioner and flicked it to heat. He put the radio on and selected a classical station playing late night sleep inducers. Spike twitched his lips, and they both sat quietly, until they heard the unmistakeable sound of regular, deep, sleeping-human breathing.

Spike twisted sideward in his seat and stuck his legs over Angel's lap. Angel swerved the car slightly as Spike got comfortable. `Hey! This is not our old brougham, Spike... I am actually driving this thing.'

Spike ignored him but, pulling his legs up a little, positioned his boots over Angel's bulge. Angel groaned and cast him an amused look. `So, feeling more yourself now?'

`Nah, feeling you at the mo.'

`I mean....'

`I know what you mean, Angel... and yes, I am. No more Vampires in Love, hey?' Seeing Angel did not understand his reference and that he thought it related to them, he quickly said, `Name of my last tour, pet... don't worry, vampire in love here now.'

He was slightly disappointed with the reaction to his declaration of affection when Angel laughed and repeated, `Last tour?'

Spike couldn't keep this disappointment out of his voice when he replied. `Yeah, started me career with `Dangerous Moonlight' had a brief `Scary Monster' phase – that was meeting you, I guess – then finished with `Vampire in Love'.'

Angel laughed again. `Was that supposed to be me in love, or you?'

`Oh, me, I guess... always fucking me.' The bitterness came out before he could prevent it. Spike started to withdraw his legs, but Angel held his boots possessively to him with one hand.

`Spike, don't be so quick to take offence.' Angel took his eyes off the road briefly to look intently at Spike. `You know I love you. I just don't find it as easy to say as you do.'

`I need to hear it though, Angel. You're going to have to practice.' Spike was going for a nonchalant `knew it all along' tone of voice, but was embarrassingly aware that it came over rather more as `HE LOVES ME!'

Angel started to unlace Spike's boots, thoughtfully, one hole at a time.

Spike laughed. `What are you doing?'


Spike hadn't given Angel a foot job for a very long time and never in a car whilst Angel was driving. They both longed to pull over to the side of the road and do the job properly, but knew the sleeping figure in the back would wake at the change of tempo.

Eventually, fed up with the unsatisfying position, Spike twisted around and finished Angel off with his mouth. He made a huge show of not needing to breathe this time - a demonstration Angel seemed particularly to enjoy. By the time they reached the hotel, however, and Wesley woke up, they were both sitting calmly in the front seat discussing the less interesting parts of Spike's stay in LA.

They maintained their neutral, disinterested pose until everyone left for the night. Spike watched Angel carefully and saw the defensive barriers peel away as the human voices drifted out through the front door. Angel turned to Spike with a twitch of an eyebrow and started to prowl purposefully towards him. Spike squeaked and dashed behind the desk. `What `ave I done? Leave off!'

`Nothing... it's what you're going to do, I'm thinking about.'

But whatever Angel had been thinking had to be rapidly unthought. Fred came into the office to use the computer. They moved to the kitchen, and Angel pressed Spike up against the counter, grinding their erections together. `Bite me.'

Spike laughed and slipped into game face, pushing Angel away until he was braced against the fridge. A small scream stopped that game, too. Spike slid seamlessly back into human form as Angel tried to explain to Fred that they had been about to feed. This did not reassure Fred at all, and she hovered near Angel as if for protection.

Although eventually persuaded to return to her room, the Fred incidents had broken the mood. Angel felt too inhibited by her continuing presence to let his vampiric desires free. The next day, the rest of the humans were present as well. Their reception of Spike was no more welcoming than it had been before. Wesley was particularly cold and off-hand with him and, however Spike tried to win them all around for Angel's sake, there was only so much insolence and provocation he would take.

He stayed upstairs the rest of the day, but to his extreme ire could find nothing whatsoever to do. Angel seemed to have no books, no TV, no music... nothing at all to interest a bored vampire. He thought wistfully of his own collection of eclectic rubbish and of his ease- the-boredom visits to the magic shop or the Slayer's house. Much to his chagrin he even began to miss the Slayer's body and think fondly of her obvious disgust and revulsion for him. At least shagging her had passed the time. Five hours straight and the day just flew away...

Spike looked forward to the evening and waited patiently for Angel to appear. When he heard footsteps coming up the stairs he draped himself in what he hoped was a provocative pose on the bed. His quiet giggling rather ruined the illusion of erotic, enticing lover, but his efforts were all in vain anyway. Angel cast him an agonised look, put a finger to his lips, and said distinctly to someone over his shoulder, `Give me twenty minutes, and I'll meet you downstairs.' When he heard Wesley going along the hall to another room, he mouthed at Spike, `Sorry... I've got to work tonight... demon infestation....'

He went into the shower, leaving Spike still draped on the bed. When Angel came out, naked and rubbing his hair, he had half a mind to fit in a little extra-curricular activity of the horizontal kind in the five minutes he had left. He could cum in five minutes if required... nothing like a quickie to get into the mood for killing. Spike, however, was nowhere in sight. A piece of paper mocked Angel from the middle of the bed. He leant over and picked it up, not wanting to read the words.

Look, sorry mate. You're busy. I've gone out for a drink. See you tomorrow... don't wait up (hah!) cus I'm gonna look up some old friends.
love me

Angel let the note drop from his fingers. There was nothing in it... it was open and honest, but Angel felt it said more than its simple words allowed for. He had the distinct impression that he was losing Spike once more. Spike was not slipping into another reality; he was being lost to the very reality of Angel's life.

Spike didn't return the following day, but he made an appearance late that night. He sauntered into Angel's bedroom and plonked himself on the bed next to the sleeping vampire. Angel woke instantly and reached out a hand. Spike took it, but it was with a desultory hold.

`I've got to go.'

Angel sat up, anger forming just beneath the surface of his calm exterior. `Why?'

`I rang Buffy. She needs me.'

`Ah. Why?'

`Big nasty.'


`Sorry, luv. It's kinda what I do now.' Angel looked into Spike's eyes and saw the lie. He knew Spike had not called Buffy, and that he was not needed in Sunnydale, but he understood the pretence. He had not made room for Spike... there had been no room for him in Angel's reality.

`Will you come back when big ugly is ex-big and ex-ugly?'

Spike smiled through his lies. `Sure, luv. Soon as it's deaded I'll be back. Keep the home fires burning for me, hey?' He slid a hand over Angel's bulge underneath the sheet.

`They're burning now.'

`Yeah, well, I've gotta go....'

Spike leant in to embrace Angel fondly, and Angel found himself returning the chaste hug. He felt Spike's lips move to the base of his neck to nuzzle briefly into the short hairs. He thought he almost heard some quiet words, but they were mumbled against his skin. He only caught their meaning as he watched Spike's retreating back. `What have I got to do to make you love me... what have I got to do to make you care? What do I do when lightning strikes me, and I wake to find that you're not there?'

By the time he pulled on some pants and reached the front door, there was no sign of Spike. He had physically disappeared into the LA night as effectively as he had emotionally disappeared into the other reality.

Spike's life went back to normal... if he took a very loose definition of normal. Demons to kill; humans to appease. He called Angel once or twice and was pleased to sense that his calls were welcome. He went to LA a few times. He discovered he was less than an hour away on his new bike and could easily come and go as he chose. However, the reception never became less hostile from Angel's friends. Angel never seemed to be able to relax when they were there... and the humans were there a lot. Spike found himself wishing himself away more than wishing he were with Angel, and this disturbed him profoundly.

So Spike put up with the debilitating loneliness of his unlife – he didn't see he had much option.

He was surprised, however, later that month when a letter arrived addressed in Angel's handwriting. Anya gave it to him one day when he visited the shop. He stuffed it into his pocket and made his way back to his crypt. He drank some slightly congealed, stale blood. He put on the television. He decided to tidy up a bit. He thought he needed to change. The envelope poked out from the back pocket of the discarded jeans, mocking his procrastination. With a sigh, he took it out and opened it. Not a letter: a map. There was a small, hand- drawn map inside, and an appointment – a day and a time. Spike turned the piece of paper over to see if anything by way of explanation was written on the back, but there was nothing. Once more he stuffed it in a pocket and made his way back to the shop to find out what day today was. He was slightly worried to discover that it was already the day of the appointment. If he had not gone to the shop earlier, he would have missed whatever it was he was being summoned for.

Spike took a road atlas off the demon's shelves and tried to decipher where the map was indicating. He got a rough indication; it seemed to be approximately half way between LA and Sunnydale.

He waited patiently until nightfall then stole some petrol for the bike and took off on the empty, dark road. Very few things cheered him up these days as much as a ride on his bike. He loved the feel of the warm air in his face, the power of the engine under him, and responsive way the bike seemed to steer just to the power of thought.

He stopped every so often to consult the map. There was no one to ask; he was heading away from the main road, going due west. Soon, he was running parallel to a deserted stretch of coastline; a small un-made track wound its way between sparse woods and sand dunes. It was very dark, only a faint light shone from the star-studded sky; the moon had not yet risen. Spike began to wonder whether he was slipping into another, unbidden reality when he suddenly saw it. Over the next small rise there was a house standing back from the shoreline. It was dilapidated – almost a ruin – but clearly had once been a pretty summerhouse. As Spike got closer he could see the building was made of wood - now bleached and faded by the Californian sun - but no less attractive for that. It had a veranda running all the way around it. He climbed off his bike in wonder, glanced once more at the map, and then slowly walked around the whole building. It was not quite as ruined as he had thought at first. The roof looked sound. Someone had put new, very substantial-looking shutters on all the windows. The house was only one story, and it had large glass doors leading out onto the deserted beach.

Spike stood on the deck by the patio doors and looked towards the sea. He had never experienced the feeling of having someone walk over his grave... being dead he guessed he was exempt from this human hyperbole... but he felt it now. A distinct, eerie shiver went up his spine. It was as if he were standing in the glare of that bright sun on another deck, looking out over another beach. For the briefest of moments, Spike thought he had returned to that strange reality, or to another one where he was dead but perpetually forced to bear witness to this place. He started to leave but heard the approach of a car. He sat sideward on his bike waiting nervously and was considerably relieved to see Angel's car appear on the track. He went over and pressed Angel against the hood, lifting one leg to imprison him.

`Don't play games like this, Angel... where are we?'

`Incredible, isn't it?'

Spike relaxed at the familiar, non-threatening tones of his sire. He heard nothing but genuine amazement in Angel's voice.

`We had a case last month... I was hunting someone... and I found this place.' He turned to Spike with a questioning look. `Do you see it, too? It's there isn't it, but not there.'

Spike nodded and taking Angel's arm dragged him back to the view of the sea. `Look, different hills... different trees, but it's the same. Maybe because it's dark or something.'

Angel nodded. 'I thought that, too, so I came back in the day. Even from the car, I could still see the similarity.'

Spike shivered again and felt Angel move closer to him. They said nothing for a while, both taking in the strangeness of the place.

Eventually, Spike nodded at the ruinous state of some of the woodwork. `Needs sorting out; owner's neglecting it. Wonder why he put new shutters up but left the rest in such a state.'

Angel laughed. `I suppose because he doesn't want to fry tomorrow.'

Spike turned to him with an incredulous look. `Are you trying to tell me you own this place?'

Angel pulled him into his arms, turning him so they were both looking out over the sea, holding Spike's back tightly against him. `No, you do. I bought it last week… for you.'

Spike whipped around, taking Angel's jaw firmly in one hand, trying to assess the truth through the darkness. `It's mine?'

`Well, it could be ours... if you ask me here occasionally.'

Spike laughed and looked over Angel's shoulder at the house. `Where's the key?'

Angel held it out; Spike went to take it; Angel snatched it out of reach. `Ours?'

`Fuck off, mine.' Laughing, Spike tried to tickle the key out of Angel, but not being ticklish – being in fact dead – this didn't work too well. Angel made a dash for the beach; Spike chased him. He caught Angel just before the shoreline and tackled him down into the soft sand. They rolled onto their backs laughing.

`Our place, Spike. No humans. Our place when we want it... need it. It only took me a hour to get here; I can be here in the evenings, and they'll never know.'

`I could live here.'

`Bit lonely?'

Spike didn't point out to Angel that it was people that made him lonely.

Spike turned onto his stomach and regarded the house thoughtfully. `It would need fixing up.'

Angel laughed. `Do you think you'd have time to fit that into your otherwise packed schedule?'

`I might, I might.'

Spike started to swing his legs, humming. Angel turned over, too, and placed a suggestive hand on his backside. `Want to see inside?'

Totally understanding the veiled desire, Spike jumped to his feet, pulling Angel with him.

Spike smiled when he saw the obviously new mattress on the floor. He pulled Angel into a fond embrace and kissed him. `Thanks, mate.'

Angel held him for a second longer than was necessary. He didn't think any of this made up for the one hundred years he had missed of his intriguing childe's life, but he knew it was a start.

Spike toed thoughtfully at the mattress. `So, no humans?'


`No neighbours at all?'


`Uh huh. So, what we going to do now? Poker?'

Angel laughed. `I'm thinking poking might come into it, yeah.' He wrestled Spike down onto the mattress and straddled his chest, unbuttoning the shirt under Spike's duster. He pulled both garments off, exposing Spike's icily pale torso.

Spike turned his head slightly. `Let's open the shutters.' Angel readily agreed, and they went around the house, letting in the sound of the sea and the cool light of the now risen moon. They didn't even make it back to the mattress. Angel pushed Spike up against a wall and kissed the back of his neck possessively. Splaying his hands out on Spike's spine, he pressed him into the wall, forcing Spike's rising cock to rub against the wood. Spike groaned in pleasure and thrust his backside back against Angel. Slipping his hands around Spike's waist, Angel undid buttons, one by one, and peeled the jeans off his childe. Spike stepped out of them and spread- eagled himself against the wall, only too aware of how enticing and seductive he looked. He flexed his fingers and thrust back a little more. Angel admired Spike's white, stretched, muscular body. He desired it more than he knew how to express but knew that Spike understood his addiction. Angel put a hand down and released himself, pressing against the naked body like a dark shadow overpowering it. As if Spike sensed this intimidating visual, he murmured softly, `Undress love... skin to skin, hey?'

Angel didn't bother to reply; he stripped off his sweater and pants then pressed back to Spike, now as pale as his childe. He stretched his arms up along Spike's and entwined fingers with him.

Angel put his lips to Spike's ear. `Sorry seems to be the hardest word.' Spike looked at him over his shoulder in wonder. `I looked up the reference, Spike. I am sorry.' Angel laughed. `There, I said that as a vampire, too. Wasn't that hard, after all.'

Spike continued to rub his body against Angel's, not wanting to lose the delightful friction. `You've nothing left to say sorry for now, luv. Buying me a house kind of makes up for a lot, don't it?'

`Hmm. How grateful are you?' Angel nuzzled into Spike's ear.

`Very.' Spike's voice was full of laughter; he had a very good idea just how grateful Angel wanted him to be.

Angel's voice purred over Spike's neck. `Resist me then.'

Surprised, Spike glanced back at Angel as best he could. `Err....'

Angel closed his eyes and continued to nuzzle. `Please, Spike....'

Suddenly, Angel heard a familiar voice. `I don't think that this is appropriate behaviour, do you, Angel?'

He reared back a little, but kept his eyes closed to maintain the illusion he knew was being created for him. He felt himself stiffen with the knowledge that he did not have to control himself now. Wesley could berate him and belittle him all he liked... in this house, no one would hear him scream.

`Fuck off, Wesley....' Although he had asked for it, the blow nevertheless left him reeling. Spike's elbow punched into Angel's nose, and a gush of blood shot out, running down his face. Angel licked it appreciatively, put his head on one side, and said with reverence, `Oh, yesss.' He lashed back at Spike, sending him crashing into the wall.

Angel heard something break and didn't know whether it was something of bone or wood. All he heard was a soft, `Yeah, fuck yeah' from Spike as he tried to recover from the blow. Angel grabbed Spike's arm and brought it up behind his back, twisting and wrenching it. Spike screamed, and the sound made Angel pant with desire. He wiped his bleeding nose over Spike's shoulders and neck, marking him, but wanted more. Unconsciously in game face already, he sank his fangs with the urgency of long denial into the cool, pale flesh in his hands. Angel had not bitten through skin for a long time, and he felt he would explode at the exquisite sensation of the parting of flesh. He didn't stay long on one wound; he wanted to rip and tear and bleed his victim. He bit randomly and without control all over Spike's body, turning him in his arms like a cat playing torture games. He murmured once more to the too lifeless body, `Resist, resist....'

Spike came out of his pleasure-induced acquiescence with a fiery passion. He was floating; his whole body had come alive under Angel's savage mouth. Covered in blood, he writhed in Angel's arms, soaking them both with the crimson flow. Blood matted their hair, coated their faces, dripped from their mouths as Spike answered Angel's plea with a matching fury and violence. They clashed against each other's bodies, snarling and keening with high-pitched vampire noises they usually never dared release. Slippery and cool they rolled and entwined, fought and broke apart on the rapidly staining floor. At last, Angel's erection drove his body. He was desperate to release the painful pressure that swelled in his groin. He flung Spike back to the wall and tore his cheeks apart with his hands. He snarled into his neck, snuffling and tasting like the predator he was allowing himself to be. Spike cried one, harsh cry, `Please...' and the willing victim was penetrated: impaled with a violent, demonic thrust from behind.

Spike grunted with pleasure at the pain of the tearing and forcing. He jerked and thrust back against Angel, feeling Angel's nails digging painfully into his waist. Angel began to intone a low, feral sound of rising male orgasm. He lifted Spike's thigh to increase the depth of his penetration then, with one strong, rising thrust, screamed as he filled Spike with jet after jet of cold, thick fluid. Beyond caring about Spike's release, Angel was only dimly aware of Spike's low cry of relief. He lowered Spike's leg but continued to work against him for a while, milking the last few superb moments of joining before sinking to his knees. Spike braced himself with one hand against the wall, his legs shaking, and with the other pumped a last few drops of release against the blood and sweat-stained wall. He twisted around and slid down against it, splaying out his legs. After a moment, he poked Angel's leg with his toe. `Hey.'

Angel looked up. His face was a picture, and Spike giggled. Angel grinned and began to lick and wipe the blood, twitching up his eyebrow when he found a particularly enjoyable smear. Suddenly revitalised, Spike jumped up. `Come on...' he grabbed Angel's arm and led him, protesting slightly, out through the patio doors to the deck. He nodded his head towards the sea and suddenly took off down the steps, shouting back over his shoulder, `Catch me, fat boy.'

Angel howled in mock outrage, and with the testosterone and adrenalin still flooding through his body, tore after his childe, screaming menacingly at him. Spike was almost laughing too much to run, but he was naturally faster and lighter than Angel and had no real fear of being caught. He plunged into the cold ocean with no more grace than any human male being chased by a two hundred pound predator, lost his footing, and disappeared under the surf. Angel crashed in after him, felt his ankles caught, and was pulled under the freezing water. They both rose, spluttering, in a reflexive human reaction to swallowing seawater.

Spike swam somewhat inelegantly through the surf to the calm deep water beyond. Angel, with strong, expert strokes, followed him. They turned on their backs, attempting unsuccessfully to float. With a curse at his dead, airless body, Angel capitulated and took a deep, human breath to fill his lungs and allow him to lie still. Spike did the same, and for a while they forget their urgency to be vampires, content to accept the human need for air. Spike spread his limbs out. He could feel the salt water deliciously stinging every bite and tear in his body. His anus ached and throbbed from the violent penetration, and he stored up the feeling in his mind to recall and enjoy later when it was gone. Suddenly, like a seal, Angel slid noiselessly and gracefully under the water. He circled Spike just a few feet under the water. His body caught the faint beams from the full moon overhead and glowed eerily. Spike felt a fearful shiver run down his spine. He had a Victorian's natural fear for deep water and a particular aversion to the thought of sharks tearing at his dead, white flesh. He kicked at Angel as he might any ocean predator, and Angel surfaced, laughing.

They stayed in the water, playing in the surf, until they both sensed the dawn only a few hours away. Leisurely, they made their way back up to the house, and Angel started to dress.

`What are you going to do today?'

Spike crawled slowly onto the mattress and spread himself in a lazy way. `Sleep.'

Angel huffed, thinking of his busy day. He eyed Spike with a desire that Spike could sense even from that distance. `I'll still be here when you get back, Angel. I'll even let you sleep if you want.'

Angel laughed and fished in his pocket. He tossed something small and shiny at Spike that flashed and caught the soft light from the moon. Spike picked up the credit card and turned it over in wonder. `What's this for?'

`Renovations. It's not an endless account... don't go mad. But it's my personal one.... Wesley doesn't....' Angel didn't finish. They both recalled Spike's flawless impersonation of the censorious Englishman and both felt the pleasure that Angel's domination of Wesley had given him. Angel felt himself stir once more. Spike started to crawl across the mattress towards him. Angel backed away. `No,' but he was laughing as he retreated. `Tonight. I'll come back soon as I can; I'll bring food ... don't spend all my money.' With that he was gone.

Spike had a productive day. With only his motorbike for transport he was completely stuck until the sun went down. Pragmatism won out over angst, and he fixed all the shutters closed, curled up into a small ball on the mattress, and allowed himself to fall into a deep, natural sleep. He woke with his usual vampire alertness, just as the sun set. He took Angel's credit card and decided to stock up on essential supplies.

He drove back to a filling station he had passed the day before and made his purchase. The cigarettes stowed safely in his pocket, he made his way back to the house... his house. He felt a sense of impending doom. He could not shake the feeling that he would not find it again. He feared it would not be there. It was, but the feelings did not dissipate. He pulled a chair out onto the deck and propped his feet up on the rail and sat smoking, waiting for the sound of the car. He looked at the beach, but it scared him, so he looked away. He listened to the sound of the sea, but it was too unearthly. He felt as if he was being watched... if he turned, he feared he might see a demon in a chair watching him speculatively. He closed his eyes to the rising panic that somewhere, somehow, he and Angel were laid out, comatose, and being fed on by grubs.

This could not be real. This was too good. Spike knew his unlife was odd, but he had not thought it completely illusory before. Once again, he started to question the definition of normal. This was not normal... for him. He was too... happy. This was exactly the reality he would have chosen for himself, and that thought scared him profoundly.

Spike heard the car arriving but did not stir from his position on the deck. Angel came over and lifted Spike's bare feet from the rail and sat in their place, pulling them back onto his lap. `Hi.'


`What's wrong?'

Spike opened his eyes and tipped his head on one side eyeing Angel up carefully. `What have you been doing today?'

Sensing something was worrying Spike, Angel answered slowly and carefully. `Nothing special, why?'

`But you existed... as far as you were aware?'

Angel laughed and started to play with Spike's toes. `If I didn't, I wouldn't know anyway.'


`What's all this about, Spike?'

`I don't think we've returned to reality, Angel. I think we're still lying in my crypt, and the demon got to us.'

Angel was so surprised and delighted by this reply, he tried to laugh, but it only came out a sort of strangled hiccup. `And... you came to this stunning conclusion how?'

Spike pulled his feet out of Angel's hands and stood up, kicking away his chair. He indicated the house and the location with a sweep of his hand. `Does this all seem real to you, Angel? This is... this is....' he didn't want to say it, felt tears prick his eyes, `...this is paradise, Angel, and I'm a demon... I'm soulless, I shouldn't be here, should I?'

Angel pulled him into a tight embrace. `I bet you've spent the day sleeping, haven't you?'

`Yeah, so what?'

`Well, I've wiped out a nest of demons; I've paid bills; I've had lunch with Cordelia; I've helped Fred move her room around, and I've argued (very quietly) with Wesley. I've had a very normal, very real day.'



Spike pulled away and perched next to him on the rail. `But, Angel, is it likely that I could own a bleedin' place like this?'

Angel eyed him cautiously and decided it was a good time for the truth, unclouded by romantic intentions. `Technically, you don't. Wesley has to own it....'

`Oh. Why?'

`Well, mainly because he's alive.'

`Oh, yeah. So it's not really mine?' Spike actually found himself feeling happier about the whole situation.

Angel ran a finger down Spike's cheek provocatively. `There is such a thing as ownership without the paper work to prove it.'

Knowing exactly what Angel was referring to, Spike grinned. `Oh yeah, back to reality... an anally retentive sire trying to fuck me.'

Angel's finger moved down Spike's arm, making him shiver at the sensuous touch. `So... if I suggested something different tonight you'd be thinking grubs again?'

Spike laughed. `Different? How different?'

Angel looked him straight in the eye. `I want you to teach me how to ride your motorbike.'

Spike's jaw dropped, and Angel continued as if he were about to refuse. `Come on... I've never ridden....'

`No!' Spike jumped up and caught at Angel's sleeve. `I mean, yeah.... Course I will. Didn't know you'd want to....' Grinning from ear to ear, Spike led Angel to the bike. He sat Angel in front and put possessive arms around his waist to grip the handlebars, too. He showed Angel how to work the clutch, well aware he'd probably never driven a manual anything. He kicked the bike to life and allowed Angel to drive them uncertainly down the track. It was flat, it was straight, and Angel had fearless, natural balance. Within no time they were trying the bike out on the sand and getting it to jump the small rises. When they got bored with that, Spike suggested taking it for a longer ride on the road to test its top speed, so Angel drove it fairly expertly to the end of the track and headed towards LA. Being the early hours of the morning, the road was fairly deserted, which was just as well when Angel suddenly swerved into the on-coming lane. Recovering and slowing considerably, he cast a furious glance over his shoulder at Spike. `What the fuck was that?'

Spike was unconcerned at his tone. `That, luv, was your pants being ripped open at the back.'

`Okay... stupid question, I actually got that... why then?'

`Cus....' Spike slipped a hand in through the tear he had made and eased it under Angel's backside. He started to play gently with Angel's crack, probing towards his entrance.

Angel slowed some more. `You can't, Spike... can you?'

`Dunno. Never tried it before. Intend to now though.' His finger pressed against Angel's entrance; Angel stood up slightly on the footrests, and Spike's finger disappeared in as far as his knuckle. He giggled against Angel's back and began a gentle movement in and out, reaching for the soft swelling he wanted to explore more fully.

Angel started to groan, and the bike began to wobble slightly. `Speed up, luv, or we'll crash. Never know how far up me finger might go then. Might be kinda hard to explain to anyone that found us.'

`Spike....' Angel's voice was ground out between teeth clenched in pleasure and shock.

`What, pet?'

`What was that noise?'

`Now, Angel, is that another of your rhetorical questions? You know that was my zipper going down.'


`Going to.' Spike slid forward slightly on the seat, withdrew his finger, and manoeuvred Angel's backside so he was poised over his very real, very solid erection. He grinned. Let the grubs have him... reality or unreality, he didn't really care. All he wanted to feel was his foreskin being dragged back over his cockhead as Angel was impaled on him. All he wanted was to have Angel wriggling and riding on his cock as they sped along in the hot, dark night. He gripped Angel's waist and, holding his erection up with one hand, forced Angel to sit down on him.

It was sensational. The vibration of the bike had them both turned-on anyway. Holding onto the handlebars, Angel could thrust back and down as much as he liked; Spike could raise up on the seat slightly to meet him.

`Go faster... faster.... ` Angel couldn't speak to counter this idea, but he put the bike into top gear to free one hand and released his own erection to spring urgent into the dark night.

`Oh shit.' Spike felt an overwhelming orgasm starting to swell inside him. He pushed Angel as hard as he could into the seat then pulled him back again. He couldn't get enough penetration to come off. `Stop the fucking bike.'

The bike skidded sideward to a halt, and Spike turned Angel so he was draped over the seat, his hands reaching the ground on the opposite side, his feet barely touching the road. Relatively secure on the kickstand, the bike withstood the frantic thrusting it was now subject to. At last able to reach the depth of penetration he needed, Spike let his orgasm swell. He knew Angel would cum, too – his penis trapped against the leather seat was enjoying sensations all of its own. Angel rocked against the seat as Spike thrust into him. He managed to put one hand to his weeping erection and with one tight squeeze and pull, exploded over the soft warm leather. Smelling his sire's cum tipped Spike over the edge and, just as they were caught in the headlights of a speeding car, Spike shot a vast load of cum into Angel. He wanted to laugh at the embarrassed squeak from the other side of the bike but could only grunt with the sheer delight of emptying into that tight, cool channel. Angel pulled away a little too quickly for Spike's pleasure, but he let him. He knew Angel would angst about the roadside show they had just put on for days. He tried to be helpful. `They'll probably think I was stabbin' you or summit. No way they'd think fucking, mate.'

Angel stood up, attempting to adjust his torn, soaking pants. `You always stab things up their rear end, do you?'

`If they're as tempting as yours, luv, yeah.' Angel smiled and held out a hand to him.

`Do I pass the lesson then?' He nodded at the bike. `Fully qualified?'

`I'll make a certificate for you to hang on your wall shall I?'

`Hmm... you drive back then.'

Angel sat behind Spike, enjoying the pleasure he could feel radiating from the blond vampire. He could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times Angelus had allowed his childe to take him. Once or twice he had been drunk; once he'd allowed it after a particularly stimulating fight, and once just for the sheer hell of it, because he'd been bored. So this was a first. He had just been taken as if it were Spike's natural right to have his pleasure that way. He felt somehow that, all these shifting realities aside, Spike had just changed the definition of their normality. As if Spike sensed his thoughts, he put a hand back to rest on Angel's thigh, riding carelessly with only one hand on the handlebars. `You okay with that?'

Angel slid closer and nuzzled into Spike's hair. `I'm beginning to think grubs, too.'

Spike swelled with the knowledge that Angel thought being with him was paradise, too.

The next few days passed in much the same way, except Spike swapped the bike for his car so he could spend Angel's money more easily.

Once, Angel did not arrive until the early hours of the morning. He found Spike surrounded by empty beer bottles, discarded tins, and pieces of sandpaper, naked, covered in paint, and smoking happily. He went up to him in a daze, looking at the house. `What have you done?'

`You and your fucking rhetoricals, mate. What do you bleedin' think I've done? I've painted it.'

Angel looked him up and down. `Why naked?'

`Duh... didn't wanna ruin me clothes. I kinda thought you might get here in time to help.'

`Yeah, sorry. Had to wait `til dark to a wipe out a demon nest.'

`So... do you like it?'

`It's... beautiful.'

Spike beamed then looked down shyly. He handed Angel one of the near empty tins. `It's called Conemara Blue.'

Angel's eyes locked with his. Spike broke the look and read from the tin, `... this hue is reminiscent of the colour of the Atlantic rollers as they crash onto the shores of Ireland.'

`You are joking.'

Spike laughed. `Seriously, I couldn't fucking believe it meself. Look....'

Angel cast a glance at the wording. Spike knew from the look on Angel's face, and by the way his arms folded protectively around himself, that Angel, too, was experiencing the sensation of someone walking over his long forgotten, Irish grave.

Angel looked once more at the house and held a tentative hand out to Spike. `Grubs, hey? Wonder how long they'll take to devour us then?'

Spike laughed, sure in his own mind where his reality now lay. `Well, I'll probably go first... toned, slim vampire here... you may take a little longer....'

Angel turned to him, laughing. `I feel like you need a reminder of what is normal, Spike, and I feel like scrubbing a little paint off some irritating skin.' He bent down and picked up one of the pieces of sandpaper. `Come here, childe.'

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