Demon Chemistry - 1

They returned from hunting, full and excited. The women chatted contentedly, looking forward to the long day of inactivity and rest. Angelus watched William shedding his coat: standing by, still quietly unsure of his place in this dead family. Two months… Angelus felt that strange need well up in him again. He glanced at Darla. Not her… too easy. He looked directly at Drusilla. Not her… becoming compliant. He looked at William. He took his arm and propelled him away from the others. 'My study, now.'

Drusilla giggled. 'William's been bad, Grandmummy. We didn't see him, but Daddy knows. He's going to punish our William.' Darla barely glanced in their direction.

'Good.'

William tried to defend himself as he was pushed towards the desk. 'I'm sorry, Angelus… Sire… what did I do?'

'Did I give you permission to speak to me?'

'No, but…'

'Turn around.'

'Please sire, don't punish me for nothing...'

'Just turn around and be quiet, William.' William braced his hands on the desk. How many whippings had this creature given him in two months? What was one more?

Angelus stood back and looked at William. He was confused; he sensed William was not bothered by the whipping, and that was intolerable. There was no point to punishment if it did not exert his power. He pictured whipping that slim back - nothing but the faintest arousal. He pictured tearing off the clothes first, then whipping - ah, that was better: he felt a clear stab of desire. He mentally kept William naked and spread his legs a little - a stab of desire flared almost painfully in his groin. Angelus recoiled and stormed out of the room.

William stayed in the study for some time, unsure if this were part of some devious test, failure of which would only earn him more punishment.

Eventually, he left and made his way to his own room.

Angelus was waiting for him inside. He shoved William against the mantel, spread eagled across the empty fireplace. He cut away his shirt, cut off his britches and undergarments and ripped off his shoes: he made him naked. He spread William's hands and feet, and leant into him slightly. William braced himself for the first lash. It didn't come… but a hand began to prise apart his cheeks and fumble with his bottom. He twisted away and faced Angelus, confusion momentarily giving way to anger. 'Hey!'

Angelus' face was furious, his blood rising. William bent his head in formal apology and reluctantly got back into the punishment position.

Again the hand… William's guts churned in fear… Angelus rubbing on his cheeks; a finger exploring, being pushed in; pain… he heard a grunt of frustration; saw his sire reaching for lamp oil; felt the finger now moving easily and then something much larger; pain once more and acute humiliation - all in silence… no permission sought, none given… thrusting, heaving, pain… a cold washing in his bowels… Angelus pulling out, leaving… find new clothes, dress, huddle in a corner wanting to be dead again, wanting to leave but having nowhere to go in a scary human world.

Next night they hunted as usual. William stayed unusually silent, even with Drusilla. Angelus seemed distracted. William skittered away on their return and went to Drusilla's room. Not hiding - just needing comfort. Angelus found him. They stood and looked at each other - William mutinous, determined to fight this time - Angelus driven by lust that disgusted him and made him hard. Revolted, he advanced on Will. Will put up a good fight, but eventually, broken and exhausted on the floor, the penetration was no less thorough. Less pain this time though. Almost none. Nevertheless, he wished himself truly dead.

Will ran away the next night, but not far enough: Angelus closed his eyes to the darkness of the night and sought him out by the link of their shared blood. He began to hear what Spike heard; he began to see what Spike saw… the local tavern. William was in the tavern, drinking his sorrows away and planning a more effective escape. Angelus began to run. Spike felt the new penetration and tried to hide - rape now of his mind as well as his body. Angelus laughed at the useless attempt to evade him and found William cowering in the stables. William was seized, dragged outside and plundered against a wall. Revolted, the effete senses that still lurked in his dead body determined the next time would be in a bed at least. He did not doubt there would be a next time.

The next night, William glanced at Angelus once or twice, wondering if he was thinking about him. When he saw Angelus' distracted air, he knew that he was. He felt stirring in his own loins for the first time and wondered if Angelus was picturing the silent nightly buggering. When he turned back to look, Angelus was looking at him. His mouth dried, his eyes widened. Angelus face spoke of lust and desire so strong it penetrated the night.

Will looked down shyly. When they returned home after the hunting, he undressed and waited for the ritual to begin… but Angelus did not come. Will sat for many hours, naked and cold. When the hunting hour came he re-dressed and went out. Angelus did not look at him, but he looked like a man who had been wrestling with the very devil all day. They split up, the women heading to a whorehouse where they plied then fed on the customers. Angelus didn't want to be alone with Will. Will was too confused to know what he wanted, but he wanted to see that look again: the one that stabbed into his bowels and made him tingle with anticipation.

They pursued a victim down an alley, forced him to the wall, each took a side but about to penetrate and feed, Angelus pushed the stunned man away. As the food ran off, William was penetrated in another way: his clothes already around his ankles and Angelus' shaft deep within him.

This time, though, there was one soft, groaned 'God, I needed this,' as if Angelus could not help but speak.

Also overwhelmed, William responded. 'Oh, yes.'

Angelus stilled; William froze in fear. Becoming frantic, Angelus practically lifted him off the ground. When he came, he pulled out and turned away, tucking himself into his britches. He began to walk away, but turned back and assisted William to dress… silent… no further comment after his lapse… his brow, knitted in confusion. He took William's arm, and they went hunting together once more.

When they returned, the women were back, and Angelus was distracted listening to their gleeful tales. William hovered, unwilling to lose Angelus' company. Eventually, the girls went to bed. Angelus summoned a servant to light the fire, and poured out some whisky. He hesitated then poured a second glass. He handed one to the astonished William and sat down in his armchair. Will leant against the mantel and soaked in the moment, wanting it to last forever. He felt eyes on him but did not look, afraid of what he might see.

'Come here, William.'

William came and sat on the floor where Angelus indicated. Angelus undid William's ribbon and stroked through his silky locks. 'You have blood in your hair.' William only nodded, afraid that any movement, any word, would destroy this moment forever.

'Why did you say it?'

William knew what Angelus meant but could think of nothing at first to say. Then he murmured a slightly stammered, 'I n-e-eded it, too. I wanted it.'

Angelus' stroking moved down to the back of William's neck. 'Not at first, I'm thinking.'

Could he admit it? 'No, not at first, Sire.'

'But now.'

'Yes, now. If I am permitted to want you, Sire…'

Angelus smiled as Will trailed off, uncertain of the extent of his freedom in this matter. He chuckled. 'I think I will permit you that, Will, yes.'

'Now?'

'What?'

'Sire, am I permitted to want you now?' He knelt up and placed a hand on each of Angelus' thighs. Angelus groaned and leant back a little. Will's hands brushed over the solid column of flesh inside Angelus' britches.

'Take me out, Will.'

William did as he was asked, fumbling slightly as the engorged tip appeared between the unbuttoned flaps.

Angelus pushed Will onto his belly on the hearthrug and pulled his clothes down. When the backside was exposed enough, he pushed himself in, the slight tearing easing his entry as slick blood coated him. William groaned, and Angelus let himself go. He groaned again, and Angelus stilled. 'You mock me with that sound of pleasure. My sire never makes that sound when I take her like this.'

William, desperate for the thrusting and rubbing again, stammered a hesitant, confused reply. 'It's l-like you're… pulling me sire; when you do t-that you hit my own root, and m-my shaft swells.'

Angelus grunted, surprised but pleased. He began to move again, now delighted by Will's soft moans of pleasure. He moved a hand underneath his child, curious to explore this unexpected effect of his penetration and cupped William's balls for the first time. They sat in the palm of his hand - a comfortable weight of delicious spongy wobbles that made him want to play and tickle. Will cried out in delight as Angelus squeezed and massaged them, and Angelus thrust deeply at each moan. He ran his fingers through springy, tight curls and wished he could see them… but best of all, he discovered Will's penis. A first touch... a longer exploration. He groaned with the frustration of not being able to see it, too.

'Take yourself, Childe; pleasure yourself for me.'

William gasped at the unsought for liberty but didn't hesitate to obey. He found Angelus' hand there already. Hesitating, unsure what to do, Will gave a soft cry when Angelus joined their hands together and rubbed their fingers around, helping his child to stimulate himself and work the erection.

'I'm sorry, sire; I'm going to…' He wet Angelus' hand with his spurt of cum. He groaned in fear until Angelus, entranced by this first sharing of passion, brought his hand wonderingly to his lips and sipped at the salty offering.

His head turned to one side, Will watched Angelus eat: he grunted at the odd taste in his mouth but increased his thrusting, and the grunting blended seamlessly into a deep sound of pleasure. When he was about to cum, he panted out low and wondering, 'Oh, the pleasure, Will, the pleasure,' and spasmed his sperm deep into his childe once more. He collapsed onto Will and lay prone on top of him. The fire flickered its light over them both. Angelus stretched to the pleasure of still being deep in William's ass, his penis still throbbing and twitching slightly.

William lay like a stone, afraid to move or speak lest the moment was lost. Eventually, Angelus rolled off, pulling out with a groan. He lay alongside Will for the first time. William turned his face to his sire and discovered Angelus' face turned, too, only inches from his. His sire's eyes spoke of confusion, and Angelus held his gaze with a steady, thoughtful look. 'Tell me again, what does it feel like?'

William smiled at the curiosity. 'It's like pressing the bell for the servants. You press and I … ring. I can't explain it any other way, Sire.

'You must not speak of this to the others.'

'No, of course not.'

Angelus looked surprised. 'You agree too quickly, recalcitrant Childe. Usually you argue my every injunction.'

William laughed and rolled onto his back like Angelus. 'Not this one, I'm not. A bloke from my parish got murdered for this once. Won't ever forget that.'

Angelus frowned. 'What do you mean?'

'He was caught on the common by one of Bob's men; you know… doing a young 'prentice from 'is factory. He was got to 'fore the trial, and they strung 'im up. Cut off his tackle, too; stuffed 'em in his mouth.'

'And we are the soulless ones.'

'Yeah, great, innit? So no, I won't broadcast this in the penny circulars, Sire.'

Angelus smiled at him. 'I had only meant that my sire would be jealous and Drusilla upset, but I think your reason is good, too.'

Will smiled back at him, and they both realised at the same time that this was the first smile they had ever shared. Desire swept over both of them, but Will, too afraid to act on his desires, hung back. Angelus was only too happy to take the lead, and he propped himself up on one elbow facing Will and leant into his mouth, placing dead lips to dead lips.

There was nothing. Given what they had just been doing, the complete lack of passion surprised them both. Angelus pulled back and looked at Will speculatively. 'Again?'

William licked his lips - only to moisten them in preparation for the repeated kiss - but the simple gesture made Angelus open his lips, too, so when they brought mouths together this time, their tongues engaged slightly. A deep groan escaped them both and vibrated between them. Unheeding of protocol, Will's hands came up to Angelus' head and pulled him down tightly into the kiss. Angelus allowed his childe to lead the kiss and this stepping back - letting go his iron-control over the only male in his family - made him swell with a new desire. He wanted to hear William's soft pleas for him; he wanted William's gaze on him, his thoughts on him. He slid a finger into his childe's hole as William kissed him. Will responded by straddling Angelus and riding his finger, to their mutual moans. After a while, he pulled away from Angelus' mouth. 'I'm sorry, Sire… I'm going to …' This time, he hit Angelus' face, soft plops of cum landing on the cheek and dribbling into the long silky hair. Will's hands urged more cum on, but his gaze locked in shock on Angelus - for his sire had not pulled away. His sire was only working him harder, probing and exploring his slick, cum-soaked hole, and turning his face to the shower of cum as if he delighted in the offering.

The only comment Angelus made afterwards was a soft, 'Clean me, Childe,' and Will was happy to obey, licking and kissing at Angelus' face as Angelus gently withdrew his finger, stretching and teasing the sensitive muscles. Will groaned against Angelus' ear, and it was the sound he most wanted to hear. Angelus swelled to the sound and gently manoeuvred Will so he could sit on his erection.

Will arched back, and the sight of his slim, pale childe, pleasuring himself on his shaft made Angelus cry out in delight and cum with a shuddering heave of sperm into that tight, welcoming rectum. Angelus stilled Will's motion on his now sensitive cock, but held him, unable to climb off. Will looked down shyly at Angelus, and Angelus put a hand to his chin and lifted it up. 'What?'

'I… '

'What? Tell me, Will.'

Will looked at him. 'I can't.' His whole body tensed, waiting the punishment. Angelus let it go. He wanted to explore Will's soft cock - look at what he'd only felt so far.

Will marvelled at his own escape and swelled slightly to the feeling of power it gave him over his otherwise all-powerful sire. Suddenly, as he watched Angelus pull his foreskin down and examine the tip of his cock, he said, 'I was going to say that I want to show you how it feels. I want to do it to you… but I'm scared of you and did not.'

Angel sat up and slid Will off him; his penis slipped out of the warm anus with a delicious plop and final squeeze of friction.

Angelus stood and began to fasten his britches. Will scrambled to dress, feeling exposed and miserable. Why had he said it?

Why couldn't he have kept his thoughts to himself? This was not someone he could trust: this was Angelus.

He felt a hand on his hair and began to turn in fear, but Angelus held him facing away and ran his finger through Will's hair, straightening it and retying his ribbon.

Will closed his eyes, bewildered and unsure of what was happening between them. Angelus seemed as uncertain, for his hands fumbled slightly as he turned Will and began to button his shirt. He didn't speak at first, but when he was satisfied with his childe, he said quietly, still looking down. 'This will not happen again. That you should think to… that you could say that… I have been very wrong…' he didn't complete the thought and turned away, finishing his whiskey in one gulp and banging the door slightly on his way out.

Will slammed his fist into the wall and screamed his pain to the softly approaching morning.

Darla was the first one to refuse to hunt with either of them. Drusilla was soon to follow. The tension between Angelus and his youngest childe was almost unbearable, and it was a relief for the females to slip away and hunt on their own. Angelus could not allow Will to hunt alone yet, unskilled as he was, so they had no choice… if William was to eat, Angelus had to accompany him.

Angelus would not look at Will. Will could not take his eyes off Angelus. Angelus could not keep his gaze off Will's slim back. Will would not turn for fear of catching that gaze.

The hunting didn't help: the surge of adrenalin when the prey was selected, working together to cut them off from the herd, playing on their weaknesses - flattery for the women, laddish bravado for the young men, interesting conversation for the elderly - it flared desire between them. Then came the glory of taking and sharing the bodies and the blood. They swelled to the pain and fear as they were filled by a heady surge of power. Bathed in blood, filled with blood… it was too much. Angelus took Will, as their victim still wriggled beneath them in his death throes. His ardent penetration of the slim vampire crushed the life out of the man, his chest collapsing to the weight of Angelus' passion above him. Will's gasping orgasm drowned out the man's cries as his breath was crushed from him, and he neither felt himself soaked by Will's cum, nor enjoyed the shuddering orgasm felt by both vampires above him.

Will allowed Angelus to stop jerking in him, pulled the last of his orgasm from his own softening erection, and then whirled furiously to one side, pulling up his britches, his eyes blazing amber.

'You bastard!'

Angelus stood, tucking himself away and wiping the blood off his mouth with the back of his hand. He came towards Will, and Will, unbelievably, stood his ground. 'If you hit me, Angelus, I'll hit you back.'

Angelus stopped. 'What is this? Is this how I have raised you?'

Will almost spat in his anxiety to answer. 'This? This is you, Angelus, fucking me and making me… so…crazy for… but… why? Why can't you leave me be?'

'Because I want you.' Angelus advanced, mesmerising Will with the power of his gaze. 'I meant what I said. This can't be.' He looked down, then back up, his eyes blazing, an almost feral grin on his face. 'But sometimes, it's just going to be.'

Will stumbled back, turned, and ran out into the dampening, cold, sou-westerly rain.

Darla, initially, was glad Will did not come back that night, the next day or the following night. She had Angelus to herself and wanted to talk about a trip to Paris. Angelus enraged her though: he was still distracted. Even deep within her, he seemed… not with her… pulling out with a curse and making a drink with a shaking hand.

By the second night, Angelus was unbearable. The whole house was terrified of him, anyway; now they huddled in corners, praying he would not visit his wrath upon them. They whispered their relief when he went out into the dark night.

Angelus found Will easily. Again, seeing what his childe saw, hearing what he heard, the new tavern was easy to find. This time Will fought so long and so hard, Angelus was too injured and too tired to want to penetrate his childe, and he left him face down on the floor of the stable, not caring if the sun visited him in the morning.

Drusilla dispatched minions, and William was carried home.

A few days, a few nights, and the pattern of their unlife together was established. As they did not speak to each other except for curses, expletives, arguments, and furious fighting, they could not discover where they had gone so wrong. Angelus found himself discovering the truth of the maxim about power and its corrupting influence. William, powerless, used and abused what influence he had over Angelus and his desires: vainglorious self-promotion and shifting personas keeping Angelus confused and angry. As Spike, he fought Angelus harder. As Spike, he didn't need to allow himself to think what might have been.

Then one night it all stopped. The pain, the humiliation, the fear, the desire and the hatred, all stopped. Angelus did not return from hunting and when Spike next saw him, he was too powerful in his own right to bother about Angelus; too high on Slayer's blood to notice that Angelus did not seem to desire him anyway. China was a good time, and Spike revelled in what he had become and could not imagine a time when he would again allow Angelus to affect his unlife.

************

It was happening again.

That faint muzziness in his head, the sense of ... sharing, and he knew Angel was there again... seeing what he saw, hearing what he heard.

He had no idea why Angel was doing it or what he thought about what he saw, but more than once since Angel had left for LA, his watchful presence had crept into Spike's mind.

Spike gave him the same mental two-fingered salute he had given him last time but to no avail. Angel did not leave at the insult this time but stayed, a ghostly, silent presence. Spike grinned to himself and stopped working on the bike. He wiped his hands with an oily rag and sauntered through town to the Slayer's. Things had changed a bit since the last time Angel had invaded his mind.

He didn't know if Angel could hear his thoughts and didn't care too much. Angel wanted to see what he saw and hear what he heard? Well... give the fucker something to really see and hear.

Spike didn't know if Buffy had come like this for Angel - he doubted it, that being her first time an' all. For him, she came hard, fast and loud, on her hands and knees on the damp grass, his fingers in her cunt, and his penis in her ass.

See and hear that, fucker. Angel's presence withdrew as fast as Spike did.

He grinned, brushed grass off his knees and sauntered back to his crypt; he still had the chain to mend, and he enjoyed working on his bike.



Angel woke from a bad dream. The hotel was light, and he heard voices from the lobby. He groaned and rolled onto one side, the dream clinging to him like cobwebs. Buffy had begged him to help her, but he'd been unable to respond for cold, sinewy limbs had been wrapped around him and ... Angel frowned ... for some reason, he'd not wanted to break free from those possessive limbs to help Buffy. He shook himself and went for a shower. His dreams were usually bloodier and more easily understood. Having no one to discuss any dreams with, he suffered in silence all day until, unable to resist, he picked up the telephone.

Spike answered with 'Sunnydale Lesbian Crisis Centre' on the third ring, and Angel heard Buffy's voice in the background, berating him and demanding he put it down. There was a scuffle over the handset, and then Spike said, laughing into the telephone, 'Sorry, Buffy can't come to the phone; she's kinda busy. Bye.' Another laugh, a soft gasp, and the handset was replaced.

The true details of Angel's dream came back to him now. He saw once more through Spike's eyes and heard what he had heard. He put his face into his hands, despairing that he should still enter his offspring's mind so long after repressing the demon in him, but more upset at what he had been so callously forced to witness. He couldn't have clearly said whether he was more upset by Spike's deliberate cruelty to him, or that Buffy was clearly so debased and damaged by her 'death' to allow what he had witnessed.

Angel almost managed to ignore the fact that his dreaming mind had interpreted what he had seen as welcome cold limbs possessing him.

Spike replaced the handset thoughtfully, his hand still up Buffy's skirt. He did what was needed, but as she came off to his strong, experienced fingers, his mind was not on her but far away in LA. He didn't know why he thought that had been Angel: he just did. It felt like Angel's brooding silence. Did he want it to be Angel? Damn right he did. He laughed, but when Buffy offered to repay the favour for him, he pushed her away and left for the tunnels.

Angel wanted to go to Sunnydale, but he had no idea what he wanted to do when he got there. He could not face an intimate conversation with Buffy - and could face no conversation at all with Spike. The last time he had seen Spike, tied to a chair a stuck by arrows, he had been shocked at how thin and hungry the childe that he hated had looked. Guilt for hating him so much had eaten at him for... oh, all of two seconds, and then a deep sense of contentment and glee at Spike's chip had carried him happily back to LA. Now this.

During the day, Spike forgot about Angel's foray into his brain. It had only happened a handful of times since Angel's departure, and Spike suspected, after what he had shown him today, that it would not happen again for a while. He was furious beyond reason when later that evening it happened again.

He was having an in night with Clem. They were watching a movie and gorging themselves on chicken wings and beer. Just as he was laughing at something in the movie, he felt it again… that sense of being shared. He stood up, stamping his feet with fury. This was intolerable; Buffy wasn't even there for the prick to watch, and this was his private time, his… life… separate and different to the front he presented to the rest of the world. Clem looked at him questioningly, but Spike put a finger to his lips to hush him. No reason to let the fucker hear anything about his friends.

Clem left, encouraged by Spike. He was in a dilemma now. He needed to get rid of this intrusion - quickly. He flung on his duster and stormed through the cemetery, keeping his mind deliberately blank. It was just as dark in the Bronze, but Spike could sense Buffy, enjoying herself with the idiots. He stalked her, cut her off from the herd and trapped her up on the balcony. Then he entered her once more from behind and whispered to Angel about the devil and the Slayer's descent to the dark side. Angel snapped out in a painful, tearing away; Spike almost felt the pain. Being a demon without a soul, this was novel for him, and he wished briefly for Angel's return so he could think of ways to pain him more and enjoy that too.

He pulled out of the soft receptacle and left before he came in her, grinning at the furious expletive that followed him back down the stairs.

Angel lay bathed in sweat on his bed. He had pushed the boundaries and suffered. All day, he had longed to be back in his childe again... only so he could watch Buffy... but he wanted to control the entry to Spike, not have it happen while he slept. So he had decided to try it awake.

He had drunk some whisky to relax. He'd put on some of his favourite music - Bach - it soothed him and made him feel strong. Then he'd let his mind wander down the blood link until he found him - drawn in and then entranced by the sound of his laughter. His childe had been laughing with a joyous, heart-felt sound that Angel had never heard before - a laugh that had never been used with him. Fascinated against his will, he'd stayed - even when Spike had run his hands up Buffy's skirt and pulled aside her slip of lace. Even when Angel knew what Spike was doing and why he was doing it, he had stayed - and therefore been complicit in Buffy's degradation.

He had pulled out and lain in the sweat of his guilt, his dead heart mocking him with its stillness when he wanted it to hammer and tell him he was alive.

Spike lay on his bed, thinking deeply. He had felt the change in Angel as he had taken Buffy against the rail. The possession had been stronger and more forceful, and he almost felt as if he had crossed the link the other way a little. He had sensed heat, but he had not been hot. He had heard music - it had not been his sort of music, but he recognised it, of course. He let his mind wander towards LA. He felt around for blood that would know him. For one brief moment, he found it - but there was incredible pain in his belly, and he reared away, vomiting into the soft soil of his crypt floor.

Angel allowed Wesley and Gunn to help him back to the Hyperion: Cordelia carrying his weapons. Everyone talked at once, everyone asking him why he had frozen at the sight of the demon, why he had allowed the demon to almost kill him. Angel couldn't tell them that Spike had penetrated him just as the demon had swung. The pain was incredible, and he tried to shut his mind to it - but Spike had used the blood link, and Angel knew he had felt the pain, too.

When the telephone rang the next day, Angel held the silence to his ear for a moment before he said tentatively, 'Spike?' The click seemed incredibly loud, but Angel did not doubt whom the call had been from.

He reached out once more and sought him.

Spike fought him off this time: his defences prepared, his fury so hot that Angel could not break through. He bounced off and returned hard to his own body, sweating and panting lightly; his hands shaking from the effort.

'What on earth have you been doing, Angel; or do I not want to know?'

Angel opened his eyes to Wesley's familiar presence the other side of the desk and smiled faintly. 'I'm thinking of going back to Sunnydale for a few days. Can you manage here without me?'

Wesley looked surprised. 'Why?'

Angel shrugged. 'Buffy's not doing so well… so I hear… err, from Willow. I think I could help.'

'Maybe you shouldn't get involved again, Angel. It took you a long time to get over her the first time.'

'I'm not going to get involved with her again. I'm going to stop her being involved with someone else.'

'That's even worse, Angel. She's not your responsibility anymore. She's not a child; she's a grown woman. What would you think if she came here and lectured you on your love life?'

'Short lecture, Wesley.'

'That's beside the point, Angel. It wouldn't be her right, and you would resent it. I know you would. She will resent you interfering in whatever she is doing. What is she doing?'

'She's sleeping with Spike.'

'Spike?'

'Yes, my… William the Bloody. Spike.'

'I know who Spike is; I'm just reeling and trying to mentally catch up. Buffy is sleeping with Spike?'

'Yes.'

'Perhaps you'd better go.'

Angel took a case that day and let it occupy him completely. He was tireless in his efforts to help the young woman and could not possibly leave LA… but he needed to know what was happening, was desperate to know what was happening, and forced his way in one day when he suspected that Spike would be asleep.

He was right. He entered the churning, painful world of his childe asleep. Angel tossed around on the waves of Spike's confusion and fear. He saw the chip as Spike saw it - the hand of God - reining him in, preventing his life force. Angel's innate compassion for the lost seeped out unconsciously, so that when Spike awoke, he felt tears on his cheek and sat up in wonder that he had cried in a dream. He never cried in dreams. Sleep was his escape from the nightmare of his life - there the fear was not real and could not hurt and unman him - so this damp, salty trail scared him. He felt he was losing control of his mind as well as his body and wondered if the chip was to blame. It was only as he took his first swallow of blood that Angel's residue snagged at his conscious brain. Angel had been in his mind while he slept. Angel had taken him while he slept, and he had not been strong enough to fight him off.

Spike tipped his head back in fury. The memories of other times and other penetrations threatened to flood into his mind, but he fought them off.

His impotence washed over him. Violated and angry, he heard the crypt door open. Buffy came down the steps. She wanted to talk to him about death; she wanted him to tell her she was alive. He took her and took his own comfort in her pain and her tears. She left, disgusted and hating him even more, violated by the violated, but Spike told himself he had no room for her pain: he could not afford to let her in as well. He did not relent until he heard her step into the sunlight once again.

That night they met somewhere half way. Angel had come for him; he had lashed out, looking for Angel. When they met they both recoiled slightly from the pain of the collision. Spike explored Angel's mind as best he could, trying to discover why Angel was tormenting him. Angel cascaded powerfully through Spike's mind, giving nothing away. Spike tried to shut the Buffy incident into a dark, private corner but felt Angel probing and prising him open. He bit back as hard as he could, flooding his mind with images of Buffy's body - graphic, obscene images taken out of context but real in their way. Angel recoiled slightly, but didn't let up on his slow working of the lock. Then he was in.

He watched as Spike had cried after Buffy's departure.

Angel fled from Spike's mind so quickly that Spike almost heard a zipping sound in his brain. He put his head down into his hands, moaning slightly. There was no escape from Angel now. There was nothing that was just his anymore, no pain, no guilt that that fucker would not know and enjoy. Once more, tears came, and Spike sobbed out his fury to an empty hole in the ground.

He wanted to get away, go further from LA than the two hours that might be making Angel's entries so easy… but where? He didn't even have money for petrol and could not picture starting anew somewhere on his own. There had always been someone else.

What else could he do? As long as Angel was his sire, the blood would allow…

Spike sat up.

As long as Angel was his sire…

He had enough petrol to get to LA.