Demon Chemistry - 5

Angel spent the rest of the evening trying to come back into Spike's head. Spike resisted with loud music - until the humans screeched their complaints; loud television - until the humans screeched their complaints; and loud shouting - until he was kicked out and told to go away. He hummed the Sex Pistols again on the way home, immediately drank a bottle of whisky, and then passed out on his bed. Angel didn't have a chance to get in.

When Spike awoke, the quiet, insistent, 'Spike, Spike' was back in his head, and he cursed, vomited, and cursed again. Strangely, the voice seemed more … material this time, and when a cool hand rested lightly on his back, he skittered away to the back of his bed and peered through the gloom at a grinning… Angel.

'Oh, shit.'

'Love the 'tude, Spike; way'ta go. Welcome to my home, might have been better, but "oh shit" will do, I guess.'

'What the hell are you doing here? Last I heard, you were partial to a certain slayer and telling me to fuck off.'

Angel shook his head in despair. 'Spike. I said I didn't want you touching her anymore.'

'Fucker! Rub it in; why don't you?'

Angel looked genuinely puzzled. 'Am I speaking English here? Spike. Listen. I - that's me, Angel, by the way - don't - that's a contraction for do not - want - that's what this has all been about, want, me wanting you and you wanting me - you - that's you, fuck up - to touch - that's what you do with hands, like this - her - that's Buffy, the girl I use to love more than my unlife, but who is taking you away from me. Does that make it clearer? You - not touch her! You - touch only me! Me jealous? Clearer?'

Spike wasn't listening too much to this ramble, because Angel's hands were proving only too easily what he was trying to say. With cool flesh rubbing up his early morning cool flesh, it was hard to concentrate on the explanation that Angel seemed to be making so clearly. Suddenly, Spike caught Angel's wrist and stilled this inexorable progress to mutual orgasms.

'You shouldn't have come. This is too soon.'

'I don't think so.'

'I can't… this is too soon for me, Angel. I'm not ready for this, it's too … jees, wussy-pansy-fuck-up, or what? Listen, last night, when I thought you'd blown me off for her… you know what I felt; you know what I thought - you were there.'

Angel stopped his attempts to unbutton Spike's shirt and sat rather deflated on the end of the bed. 'What do you mean?'

Spike climbed off and began to pace. 'You bloody well know what I mean, Angel. I could have killed you - instant annihilation! I felt that… hatred for you again. So quick, so easy! It's just there, isn't it? Under the surface of all this touchy feely shit. Angel - I'm just dead in places you feel liberated! I can't do THIS!'

Never listening to modern music of any kind, Angel missed the opportunity to call Spike on his reference. He just thought his childe was becoming eloquent, and fell silent under the weight of his argument.

Spike included pouting in his pacing routine and watched Angel out of the corner of one eye. 'So, why don't you want me shagging Buffy for us then?'

Angel suddenly roused from his reverie and said unguardedly, 'It makes me want to kill you.'

He heard his own words almost before Spike did and made a frantic effort to recall them, only to see them hit Spike. Before he could speak, Spike suddenly laughed. 'Okay. That makes us even then. Both vampires still.' He sat down next to Angel, and they looked at their respective feet for a while.

Spike sensed the dawn and suddenly said, 'Where did you park? You're stuck here now 'til evening.'

Angel laughed quietly. 'I am anyway; I came on your bike.'

Spike hit him - just for something to do. 'You found it? Fuck, you are a detective!'

Angel rubbed his arm and pursed his lips thoughtfully. 'Not really - although I am - hey! Look! I have a card.' The card was accepted with due gravity, but Angel continued 'It was never really… I mean…' He took a deep breath, enjoyed the unusual sensation and took another one. 'It was never gone. I took it.'

Spike's face was theatrically shocked, and Angel began to laugh - very little humour at this but rising hysteria about being here in the first place. It helped considerably when Spike hit him, more when Spike wrestled him to the ground, most when Spike lay hard on top of him and began a violent rain of blows to his torso and face. Warding his childe off, Angel grabbed him around the waist and flipped them both over, so he sat on Spike's groin. 'I didn't want you to leave… but you did anyway, so my bad.'

Spike shuddered.

Angel looked at him askance. 'What?'

'You are so bloody… American, Angel. What the hell happened to you? I've been in this soddin' country nearly as long as you, and I don't say goyty things like that!'

Angel began to laugh, his overwrought hysteria rising to the surface again. 'That's all you're concerned about? I come here - I tell you I …and I'm gritting my teeth here, Spike… I tell you I love you - and that's all I get? I've become too American?'

Spike tumbled him off and climbed up the ladder, needing the space of his upper level. He lit a cigarette and waited for Angel to follow. 'You just don't get it, do you, Angel? It's not the fucking accent; it's not the bloody odd expressions; it's … THIS! It's you and me, here, talking and soddin' not fighting. I can't STAND IT!'

'You want to fight? I'll fight if you want to, Spike! You know I'll just take you again. Hell, maybe this time, I'll take you properly. Would you like that? Would that make all this seem more familiar. Yes…' Angel began to advance. 'Maybe I will. I know I'd enjoy it! Shall I fuck you, Spike? Would you like that? Up your arse, nice and hard until I come - hey! I may let you come, too; I used to, sometimes. I feel like being generous, Spike. So … come here!'

Spike had backed away as far as he could. There was only attack left, so he attacked, swiftly, unexpectedly and viciously, and it felt… utterly right. He spun and kicked Angel squarely in his face, and when he went down grunting, Spike kicked him as he was down. Angel caught at the flying ankle and gave it a vicious twist. Spike fell on his still painful arm and cried out. In a second, Angel was on him. Spike's head was held tightly to Angel's chest, his face stroked and kissed avidly. 'I can't do this, Spike. Not now. I don't want to hurt you anymore; I've done that enough.'

Spike turned into Angel's chest and hid his face. 'I can't do anything else, Angel. It's all I have with you, all I can understand.'

Angel pressed his face into Spikes' hair. 'Can't you understand this?' He slid his hand into Spike's shirt and felt for one erect nipple. 'Do you get this, Spike? Does this help you to understand.' He felt Spike arch to his touch and pressed harder, squeezing and pinching the tiny bud. 'Understand this, Spike.' He plunged his mouth down to Spike's and forced his tongue into the soft, almost warm cavern. Spike groaned and pulled away, trying to spit the taste of Angel's kiss away, but Angel didn't let him. He forced Spike to kiss him, pressing their lips together, holding them together with the power of his strong hands. Spike's groaning turned into soft eager moans; Angel's hands moved down Spike's chest, caught on the still buttoned shirt and pulled out to rip the fabric away. The ripping sound almost covered the sound of the door but not quite. The vampires separated with a swiftness and silence that left them standing quietly apart when Buffy entered.

'Angel? Angel! Angel?'

'Buffy. Hi.'

'Angel? What? I mean, why? How? Who? No, why?'

'I came to see Spike about something.'

She almost spat the word, her discomfort rising as swiftly as her previous arousal dissipated. 'Spike!'

'Yes. He's err… helping me on a case.'

'That's how he broke his arm?'

'I am here by the way, in case anyone is bothered.'

Angel and Buffy chorused 'Shut up, Spike.'

Spike suddenly grinned and edged towards Buffy. 'To what do I owe this pleasure, Slayer? Pleasure?'

To her due, Buffy only blushed a light shade of red, but suddenly remembered that both vampires would probably be able to smell this and her previous arousal, and a deep, almost crimson shade of red suffused her cheeks. Angel's life changing decisions about his relationship with Buffy - so clear from the distance of LA and Spike's head - dissipated as fast as Buffy's arousal for Spike. Confusion overwhelmed him. He longed to take Buffy in his arms. He wanted to do to her what Spike had enabled him to do the previous night but couldn't. In his angst and confusion, he turned from them both to leave but remembered he was trapped by the light.

Buffy turned to follow his anguished look. 'Why did you come here during the day, Angel? Strange much? What did you intend to do with Spike?'

Her innocent comment, genuinely only asking Angel why he would want to shut himself up in a hole in the ground with Spike for a whole day, made Angel groan. Only Spike could smell the vampire's arousal, so he capitalised on Angel's discomfort. 'Yeah, Angel, what were you gonna do to me?'

Buffy looked from one to the other then shook herself slightly. 'We have a problem tonight. A group… hey! What do you call a group of vampires? A nest…?'

Spike tried to be helpful. 'A fuck up?'

She ignored the interruption. 'A GROUP of vampires came in on the train last night. They've holed up downtown, and we're going to flush them tonight. Spike… I … we need you.' She suddenly brightened. 'Hey, Angel! You could come too!'

'No! I mean, I have to get back tonight.'

'Ah, shame, Angel! I'm sure Buffy would have made it worth your while.'

Angel looked furiously at him, but could not reply as he might, given Buffy's presence.

'Well…' she looked doubtfully from one to the other. 'I've got to work; I'll see you tonight? What are you two going to do all day?'

'Don't worry, pet. Angel can brood, and I need to snooze. I feel right tired these days for some reason. Anyone would think I was getting an extra workout somewhere.'

Buffy reasoned her second blush was still covered by the scent of her first and made a swift exit. Spike looked at Angel. Angel looked at Spike. Then he glanced at his watch and groaned. He sat down heavily on the edge of the old armchair and looked morosely at Spike. 'I think I'm giving you up. You're too much like hard work.'

Spike edged around him to the remote control and turned on the telly, plonking squarely in the chair. Angel groaned, but leant back and allowed the mindless pictures to wash over him. After a while, he said quietly. 'I can think of something better we could be doing.'

'I can't.' Spike's reply rather deflated Angel's confidence, so he didn't repeat the offer.

After half an hour, Spike felt cool fingers playing with his hair. He twitched away. 'Poofy, Angel. Remember what I said about being a poof!'

Angel swiped him hard across the top of his head instead, and Spike nodded complacently. 'Better.'

Angel pouted, grimaced, pursed his lips, tried out various openers and devastatingly seductive comments, but finally said rather lamely. 'I'm a vampire - I can't be poofy.'

Spike creased up. 'Oh, jees, mate, entertain me some more. This day ain't gonna be as long as I thought!'

'Fuck off, Spike! I fucked you for twenty years or so - and hell, I'm not counting - and there was nothing poofy about it.'

Spike twisted in his seat and looked at Angel through lowered lids. 'What was it then?'

'What?'

'If you didn't love me, if you didn't… fancy me, then what was it?'

Angel put his hand back to Spike's hair and, this time, it was not twitched off. 'It was power, Spike. I had the power, so I used it. I told you that. Just like you do with Buffy. You love it when you can make her squirm. You're stronger than her, older than her… just better than her, and you love it. So, welcome to my world.'

Spike felt something was not quite right about Angel's version of their history, but being so confused himself, having such strangely contradictory memories, he did not pursue the lie. He changed tact slightly, trying to cover his confusion. 'You're calling me a bully?'

'I think I'm calling myself that. Not a poof, Spike. A bully.'

Spike huffed and returned to the show, but said quietly after a few moments, 'Same difference if you ask me.'

His comment was somewhat muted by the insistent, strong fingers, stroking through his hair, pulling the strands up, twisting them around and flattening them back down. He tipped his head back a little and nudged it fractionally more into the caress. Angel, wisely, did not comment on this or react to it and, consequently, was allowed to continue playing with this small part of his childe.

Angel was too restless though to sit as still as Spike, wasting his unlife watching television, and he soon started to pace around the crypt, examining Spike's meagre collection of stuff. This bored him, too, and eventually, he said rather curtly, 'As you don't seem to want to use your bed, can I?'

Spike looked up, shocked. 'What the bleedin' hell for?'

Angel only gave him a look, but Spike shrugged apologetically. 'Yeah, 'course. If you want. Ain't what you're used to though.'

Angel hesitated as he was about to descend the ladder. 'We are over the staking thing, aren't we, Spike? I'd hate not to wake up from this sleep.'

'You wouldn't know anything about it. You'd be getting reacquainted with hell, mate.' He saw Angel's shudder with amusement. 'And I really must ask you about that one day; wanna see if me crowbar was worth the cost of purchase.' He regretted his words as soon as they were out, but Angel had descended into the lower regions, and he didn't get a chance to lighten them with the humour that had been intended. He cursed softly and debated following Angel down but had the irrational thought that more might be expected from him during that apology than he was capable of giving, so stayed mindlessly watching the television until he sensed the light beginning to fade.

He went silently down the ladder and stood at the end of the bed, looking at his sire. Angel had undressed and had folded his clothes precisely on a chair. Spike glanced over at the dark aubergine silk shirt, leather pants and boots. Something about the ensemble disturbed him, but he couldn't place the feeling and tried to ignore it. He was more interested in looking at Angel. He hadn't seen Angel naked, asleep, for over a hundred years, and he allowed the intense feelings that body evoked to wash over him. As he looked at Angel thus, he felt a sense of helplessness overtake him. He had always felt helpless: helpless from endless, painful buggerings, helpless from Angelus just falling asleep, helpless from being always in pain, always alone, always furious, and always powerless. He had always felt impotent: unable to change his unlife, and yet, through all this helplessness, he had always watched that body.

He had studied every inch of this skin. Spike sat gently on the edge of the bed. Angel's skin did not seem hateful at all now; it was… entrancing. Spike liked skin: he'd had a close relationship with skin for many years… until the chip. Warm human skin, cold demon skin - it was all intensely stimulating, and he longed to reach out and touch it but feared waking Angel.

He needn't have worried. Angel was already awake - had been since the potential threat to his unlife had started down the ladder - but he didn't let Spike know.

Angel's arousal was almost painful now. He needed relief but did not want to give it to himself. He wanted Spike, but did not know how to get him. He felt Spike's close proximity on the bed like a taunt to his entire body. He desperately wanted Spike to reach out a hand and touch him. He pictured the falling together, the merging, the taking and the giving… and stopped imaging suddenly and sat up. Spike fell off the edge of the bed and cursed. Angel peered over at him, horrified. 'Do we both get to… you know… do it, this time?'

Spike stood up, brushing himself down rather unnecessarily and slapped in annoyance at Angel. 'What the hell do you mean, you bugger?'

Angel laughed. 'Just that, Spike; just that. Who is going to do the poking, and who's going to take it, and maybe we could both… and that would mean I'd have to…' Angel stopped, stunned by his own mental images. Spike just stared at him.

'Get out of my bed.' Spike's fury knew no bounds. He didn't want to remember. He didn't want to remember how love had turned to hatred over that one shy suggestion to someone he thought had become a friend.

'What?' Angel pulled the sheet a bit higher.

Spike saw no reason to let Angel know what he was really thinking. 'Get the fuck out of my bed. You've made some mental bloody leap there, Angel. I've told you that's never gonna happen, and you're trying to decide who's the bitch.'

Wrong thing to say. Angel winced, blanched more than usual and swung out and hit him. He then got up, deliberately not holding anything to his naked body, and began to dress provocatively slowly. He knew Spike was watching and turned slowly, his full arousal standing proud against his body. Spike's hiss made it twitch slightly. 'Who did you just call a bitch, Spike?'

Spike shook his head slowly from side to side, his eyes not moving from the object in the centre of his vision.

Angelus' brief resurgence faded almost immediately, and Angel suddenly realised he was standing naked in front of Spike, exposing himself. He hunched over, dressing hurriedly. Spike did not move from his position on the bed and was effectively silenced for a long while. Eventually, he risked his voice, but even then he had to cough slightly before the attempt. 'I think … us … has just gone from unlikely, to the realms of the totally impossible.'

Angel turned from fixing his watch to look at Spike. 'How do you work that out?'

'I'm not having that inside me again.'

'What? Are you insane?'

'Me? Insane for saying I don't want you fucking me? No, I don't think so. Jesus, Angel, I've been giving it for too long to want to have that again. It just ain't…' he trailed off as Angel came to stand between his thighs. 'Don't, Angel, I can't resist…'

'That's rather the point, Spike.' He tipped Spike's face up to look at him and trailed a finger down Spike's cheek. 'You know what? This was too soon. You're not ready, are you? I'll tell you what, Spike. You let me know when you think you might be ready for me and I'll…' he suddenly let Spike go and strode towards the ladder. He began to climb, and Spike feared he might never finish the promise.

'Angel! What? What will you do?'

Angel turned, as he was half way up. 'Tell me when you're ready Spike, and I'll do the taking. Life's a bitch, and then you become one,' and with that, he left before Spike could catch him up.