The Longest Distance Between Two Points - Chapter 9
When Angel got into the room, it
looked as though something had been slaughtered and drained. There was blood
all over the bed and an arc of blood across the wall.
'SPIKE! What the hell has happened? Where's the cat?'
Spike looked up from his activity on the bed with an unconcerned air. 'Oh hi, luv. Sorry about the mess.'
'Mess! Mess! Spike…WHERE IS LESTAT?'
'Well, he's here,' Spike patted a small moving lump under the sheet. 'What's the problem? Oh shit, you didn't think all that…' he waved at the blood on the wall, '…was the cat, did you? No, I was throwing a blood bag for him to chase and it just split open. Sorry.' Spike continued to pat the bed, making the cat jump and squirm.
'Stop tormenting my cat!'
'I'm not tormenting 'im. I'm teaching him self-discipline and a warrior-like endurance of pain.'
'Well, alright, we haven't gotten around to the pain bit yet, we've kinda got stuck on the self-discipline.'
The kitten had emerged from the sheet and was leaping frantically around trying to catch something in Spike's hand that he was holding deliberately out of reach.
'What are you doing to him?'
'I'm not letting him have any chocolate until he satisfies me he's learnt not to want it. He's gotta learn self-discipline.'
'Err Spike…wasn't that box of chocolates full at lunchtime?'
'Yeah, well, he had to have something to keep 'im going…can't learn warrior-like endurance of pain on an empty tummy. He's only a fledgling. So we shared a few before we got started.'
'So, let me get this straight. For the last three hours you have been playing chase with blood bags and feeding my eight-week-old kitten a family sized box of chocolate liqueurs. Does that about sum up your productive afternoon?'
'Yeah, what's wrong? He liked 'em!'
'Spike…that is chocolate…that is alcohol…he is a cat…he is a very small cat..…I really think you should get him off the bed now and…oh…too late.'
'Mother of God! Angelus! Get him off me! You unholy little minion from hell! Oh God! Angel, it's all in the sheets…fucking cat! That's it…he's being put on the pain endurance training TONIGHT! Stop laughing. Angel! It's not funny. Oh God, it's hanging off his whiskers. Oh jees, he's licking it and…eww! Stop laughing and get me out of this bed!'
With great difficulty, Angel helped Spike to sit in the chair whilst he stripped all the sheets, attempted to wipe the wall down and took the poor cat to Cordelia for some much needed TLC. He sent Spike furious looks every so often as he remade the bed.
‘Sorry, mate. I didn’t know. He just kept taking ‘em and he was purring. I haven’t heard purring since…well, never mind, I haven’t heard it for a long time. Oh God, Angel, I’m so bored, please come up here and keep me company. I promise I’ll be good…no attempt at sex. Promise.’ Spike tried out one of his more successful looks, one he hadn't used for a while - the little boy pout – and was pleased to see it had the desired effect on Angel.
Angel didn’t believe him about the sex, but being totally unable to resist that pout, agreed to stay for a while and carried Spike back to the fresh, sweet smelling bed, climbing in beside him. He pulled Spike gently to him and cradled him against his chest.
‘Do you think he’ll be OK?’
‘For your sake, he’d better be.’
Spike lifted his head for a moment to look at Angel. ‘You really care for him, don’t you?’
‘Spike, he was flushed down a toilet into a sewer. You should have seen him when I found him, he was so lost, so scared. Don’t tell Cordelia or Wesley this, but he was a little like me when I first had my soul…huh…’first had’…for eighty years I was like that. So yeah, I do care for him. He’s important in the scheme of things. We all are.’
‘Except demons, like me.’
Angel didn’t like the way this conversation was going. He didn’t like discussing metaphysics at the best of times and certainly not with any of his family for whom he felt he ought to have more answers.
‘You have a place, I’m sure.’
‘No, I don’t, luv. You do…you have a soul. I have fewer rights than that cat. Anyone has the right to torture or kill me…anytime. I can’t be murdered, cus I don’t exist.’
‘I said shut up. I don’t have all the answers, Childe. I only know you matter to me. You matter to Buffy and her friends…don’t shake your head, you do, I saw it…you matter to Cordelia too, I think. Perhaps that’s it; perhaps it’s the good that we do which defines our place in the scheme of things. ‘
‘I’m fucking shafted then, mate!’
They lay in silence for a while, Angel desperately hoping that Spike would not continue with this conversation. It made him uneasy and fearful of their future together. He was only too aware of the distance his soul put between him and his Childe. He could feel Spike had something else he wanted to discuss and waited warily for that agile mind to seize on yet another taxing problem for him to solve. He was relieved and amused, however, when Spike finally blurted out his thoughts.
‘I’m thinking of changing me name again. What do you reckon?’
‘Why, and to what for God’s sake?’
‘Why? Why do you think? I don’t feel like ‘Spike’ anymore. I feel I’m moving on, evolving again. So I think a change of name is appropriate. I haven’t decided about the, ‘to what’. That’s the difficult bit. What do you think?’
‘Why not go back to William? It’s how I always think of you anyway.’
‘I know and it really pisses me off, ‘Angelus’!’
‘Oh. You should have said.’
‘You should have listened better.’
Angel couldn’t take this conversation seriously anymore. Even though he knew how touchy Spike could be and how much he hated being teased, he just couldn’t resist it.
‘What about, Brian?’
‘Oh fuck off.’
‘Ok, Ok, so this is where you spend the rest of the day coming up with stupid names for me. Thank you for taking me so seriously, poof.’
‘Shut up…I mean it! I’ll come up with my own bleeding name. You wait and it’ll be bloody good. Better than fucking ‘Angel’ anyway.’
Angel contented himself with storing up a list of suitable names in his head to slide into future conversations and started running his hands lightly through Spike’s hair. Spike shifted closer to him and Angel could feel that maddening pulsing in his balls again. He could feel his undead blood pumping in to swell and stir his cock. Erotic images filled his mind; he felt his whole body tense with a desperate need for release. He felt as if he’d been permanently hard since he had seen Spike saunter into Buffy’s party and the agony of this constant tension was getting to him. He was so consumed by thoughts of Spike’s body he didn’t hear Spike’s quiet question and had to be brought back by a sharp dig in the ribs.
‘Hey, brood boy. Concentrate here, please.’
‘I asked you how you got the blood.’
‘Oh, not that again Spike. I told you, don’t worry about it.’
‘I’m not worried for me; I’m worried for you, you fucking fairy. You’ll brood about it and build it all up into some huge bleeding problem and then use it against me. I know you. Just like my bleeding ring. So much brooding you actually tortured yourself for it. You don’t learn.’
‘Anyway…so, tell me. I want to know.’
‘Spike, how many people do you think I’ve saved since I’ve been in LA?’
‘What the bleeding hell has that to do with anything? How the hell do I know? Three?’
‘Thank you. No, I worked it out the other day, it must be almost a thousand.’
‘You shitting me?’
‘My actions have saved whole buildings full of people sometimes. So then I just started to think about all that blood. Over eight thousand pints, Spike, saved by me. And I bought just fifty from a convenient ex-client who was willing to sell it to me. I figured I was owed it.’
Spike looked at Angel again, holding his gaze.
‘Owed it? Are you being serious?’
Angel couldn’t keep a straight face.
‘No, I just wanted it; so I took it and I’ll burn in hell for it later. You were my only priority.’
Spike dropped his gaze and laid his head on Angel's chest. ‘At last! Have you any idea just how good that sounds? That’s the first time you’ve ever said that to me and I’ve been waiting over a hundred years to hear it. That’s a long time, luv.’
‘I think it’s the first time it’s really been true, Spike.'
‘At last…he admits it!’
‘So, number one priority, what can I do to keep you amused?’ Angel gave Spike an unexpectedly seductive smile and moved Spike’s hand onto his extremely urgent erection.
Spike didn’t know whether to be shocked at this totally provocative Angel, or outraged at his duplicity. ‘I thought you said I was too injured to risk stuff!’
‘Yeah well, you’ll heal eventually.’
‘So…you aren’t up to anything then…?’ Angel kept the sly, seductive grin on his face and started rubbing his hand around on Spike’s naked back.
‘Um…Angel…’ Spike lifted up the sheet and let him peer down inside. ‘…would you call that up?’
‘Yes. I would. Definitely.’
‘Good, so I’ll leave the, ‘anything’, to you.’
Angel was nothing if not inventive and had no trouble at all thinking of something he wanted to do. He felt guilty because it was really something to help Spike heal, but had known that suggesting it in that way would have enraged the tetchy blond demon again, so he'd tried to make it sound like an erotic treat and hoped that Spike would fall for it.
He climbed off the bed and, fetching some oil from the bathroom, came back to find Spike, eyes closed, hands under the sheet, clearly getting himself in the mood.
‘Hey…none of that, Mister. Turn over please.’
Spike eyed the bottle of oil with delight. ‘What? You’re kidding right? This is finally going to be my lucky century?’
‘Not quite, number one, I’m going to give you a massage.’
Spike face crumpled from eager anticipation to wary derision in one second. ‘Look luv, I’m getting really worried about you. First you start carrying me around and then you want to bath me and now you’re holding oil and talking about a massage. You really need to get a few more male friends, mate. Get out more!’
Angel ignored him and started undoing the buttons on his shirt, one at a time, keeping his eyes fixed with Spike’s.
‘Why are you getting undressed?’
‘You’ve never had a massage like this one before.’ Angel had finished unbuttoning his shirt and let it fall off his shoulders to the ground. He put his hands on the buckle of his belt and just watched Spike, waiting. Spike’s eyes flickered down from Angel’s face to his hands and back up again, his tongue licking across his lips.
‘Err…go on then…’
Angel smiled and started to undo the belt, taking his time, watching Spike, watching him. When the buckle was undone he paused again, but Spike was ready this time and immediately he saw the pause, interjected with, ’and more’, so Angel continued. He undid each button on his jeans until the sides fell away revealing the black silk waistband of his boxer shorts. His prominent bulge was very obvious against the shiny material. He pushed his jeans off his hips and stepped out of them. When he had only his shorts left he knelt on the bed and crawled slowly up towards Spike who was mesmerised by this unexpectedly erotic display. Spike heard the distinct thought flicker across his mind...
"This the first bloody time I’ve been the one being seduced"
When Angel reached him he placed Spike’s very willing hand on the front of his shorts. Spike couldn’t believe how good Angel’s cock felt, straining and damp against the silky black fabric. He took an unconscious hiss of breath and lightly scratched his nail over the weeping tip.
Angel picked up the bottle of oil and rubbing his hand up and down it told Spike, in a suggestive voice, to turn over.
Spike flipped over onto his stomach as quickly as his broken, sore body would allow and cradled his head on folded arms, his face turned to the side so he could keep an eye on this delightfully seductive Sire of his.
Angel climbed over Spike’s thighs and carefully straddled them so all his weight was taken by his legs, not by his injured Childe.
‘Okay, number one?’
‘Yeah, you can sit down more, I’m fine…but stop calling me that, will you. Makes me think I should be wearing a too-tight, one-piece lycra suit and going where no man has gone before.’
‘You can do that later.’
Spike heard the promise implicit in this. He suddenly realised that the long road that had started for him one moonlight night was about to finish. He would soon, finally, be inside his Sire. It was the longest road he felt he had ever taken.
Angel knew his Childe was deep in thought and didn’t wait for a reply to his comment; he only smiled to himself and poured some of the oil out onto his hands. He rubbed them together hard, invigorating the oil, warming it with the friction and releasing the warm odours. When he was ready he placed his hands at the top of Spike’s spine and started the long slow strokes he knew Spike needed. He could almost feel the healing process in his Childe's body accelerating. Angel was acutely aware of the feel of Spike’s silken skin under his hands, the oil making it glisten like opaque ice. He pinched and rolled as much of the lean body as he could; Spike was all sinew and bone, no spare flesh anywhere. Angel looked at Spike. His eyes were still open, but they were vacant and unfocused and he was unusually quiet.
‘Like this?’ Angel swept his hands hard down Spike’s spine to his backside then turning neatly around on him he lifted each leg in turn, very gently stroking his hands down the knotted muscles in Spike’s calves.
‘Spike?’ Angel turned around on Spike again to see if he was alright.
‘Spike…does this hurt too much?’
‘Oh, you are still there, good…what?’
‘Rock a bit more, will you?’
‘Rock. Shift your body a bit harder, will you.’ Angel, kneeling over Spike’s backside, suddenly understood what Spike meant. He grinned and putting his hands on Spike’s waist, started slow, gentle rocking movements that rubbed Spike against the sheet. Initially Angel had thought to do this just for Spike's pleasure, but as he looked down at the slim, naked body beneath him he felt a flood of erotic power surge through him. He was on top of his Childe, he was bringing his own Childe off and it was too much for him. He put one hand to his shorts and released his straining erection. It stood hard and urgent against his stomach. He lay down, covering Spike's hard body with his own.
His cock now lay hard along Spike’s spine. As Angel lay prone on his Childe, his cock was trapped between them just as effectively as Spike’s was trapped against the sheet. Then, at Spike’s insistent urging, Angel started rapid jerking, thrusting movements just as if he were buried deep in Spike’s arse. The oil covering Spike’s body was slick between them. Angel’s movements made a rapid staccato on Spike’s back. Angel slipped his hands under Spike to pin him more effectively to his own body, enjoying the extra pressure on his cock and increased his thrusting motions. He heard Spike panting, he’d turned his face into the pillow, muffling his low, urgent repetition of the one word, ‘yes, yes, yes’. Angel matched the jerking of his hips with Spike’s words.
Angel fixed a vivid picture in his mind of his cock, its red tipped head buried deep inside Spike. When he felt his cold seed collecting in his balls and his shaft swell in preparation, he bent over Spike’s neck and bit deeply into the soft oily skin. His thrusting became frenzied; he worked Spike's body for his pleasure. Spike howled loudly into the pillow, screaming out his rapid-fire release. The sound made Angel frantic to cum and in his mind’s eye he watched as the tiny slit in the head of his engorged penis opened and sent his release splashing out to coat the walls of his Childe’s tight channel. Angel squeezed the last few drops from his cock and reluctantly slipped off Spike’s body to lie beside him in the bed. Spike groaned his frustration at the loss of contact and turned his head. Their faces were only inches apart on the pillow. Angel watched a small trail of his cum slide off Spike's thin body like a small waterfall. He moved a finger up to trail patterns in it. Then taking the finger he swirled it around Spike's lips. Spike grinned and licked at the fluid, lifting his scarred eyebrow with an appreciative smile. Angel left his finger temptingly out of reach and Spike reared forward, catching it in his mouth and with Angel's face almost touching his, Spike sucked and worked Angel's finger as if it were Angel's hard cock instead.
Angel did get rapidly hard again by watching Spike as his finger disappeared inside that beautiful face.
'How are you feeling?' Angel had the same suggestive smirk on his face.
Angel swallowed, he was memorised by the finger sliding in and out though those perfect lips. 'If I knelt up…could you…oh, Jesus, Spike…' Angel pulled out his finger, quickly knelt up and showed Spike the weeping, throbbing erection that was sticking out from the front of his boxers.
Spike turned over slightly so he was lying on his side. Angel was so engrossed in the thought of Spike's lips around his cock that he did not notice Spike's wince of pain or the slow, careful way he moved. He took his cock in his hand and guided it to Spike's mouth. He leant right over, bracing himself behind Spike's head. Spike reached up and pulled Angel's hand into his own, lacing their fingers together. It was not the easiest position for a blowjob for either of them, but Angel couldn't stop, he was desperate to feel that wet, silky mouth licking up and down his penis. He rubbed the red, weeping tip against Spike's lips, pushing for entrance. Spike teased him for a while, keeping his mouth firmly closed to him but occasionally flicking his tongue out and catching a few drops of precum. He could taste Angel's spent cum too, its smell potent, arousing him again. Eventually when Angel could stand it no longer he begged for entry.
'Please, Will, just suck me. I need you.'
Spike looked up at the sight of his Sire rearing above him, head thrown back, perfect body, naked in the soft light of the darkening room. The black silk of his shorts framed Angel's perfect cock, balls and dark patch of hair. Despite the incredible pain Spike was now in, he smiled to himself. He had heard the words he had wanted to hear for over one hundred years. ("I need you") It was almost enough. Angel was taking him one way, using his throat and mouth for relief and Spike knew it was a very short step now until Angel would take all of him.
He opened his mouth and took Angel to the back of his throat. With his free hand he pulled Angel's ass down hard so Angel's groin was buried deep in his face. He was encased by Angel's sensual presence, by the smell of him, the feel of him, the taste of him, the sound of him. Angel's weight was heavy on him and Angel's body blocked the light from him. He felt himself becoming nothing but a receptacle for Angel's cock, giving Angel pleasure. Perhaps vampires sire Childer to provide this eternal pleasure for them. Who knows? Spike only knew that he was nearly complete and satisfied. Whatever he had been straining for and fighting for and needing all these long decades, he had almost found it here. Angel had said it to him. ("I need you") Spike knew that Angel would soon need him in more intimate ways.
Spike listened to the growing volume of Angel's strangled cries. He wondered if the humans downstairs could hear him. He seemed unaware of the way he was shouting and panting Spike's name. Angel lifted his free hand from the bed and gripped the top of the headboard, raising himself up and giving him a better position to plunder Spike's mouth. He thrust as if he were thrusting into the wall itself, crashing his hips forward, his abdomen hard against Spike's face. Spike felt his damaged neck straining and cracking under the pressure, but he didn’t let Angel know. He felt his spine screaming, every nerve complaining about new damage, but he didn't let Angel know. His head started to pound in rhythm to the pounding Angel was giving him, but he didn’t let Angel know. Angel's face looked as though he was in agony, his eyes screwed shut, his face creased with his concentration on the exquisite pleasure he was having screwing Spike's face.
Finally when Spike thought he could take no more, he felt Angel's cock swell in his mouth in preparation for that final rush of release. The friction of Angel's cock had made the walls of his mouth hot and his throat burn, so it was with an intense chill of delight he felt Angel's icy cum squirt hard against the heat, cooling him.
The flooding cum released a howl of pleasure from deep within Angel's chest; his hand flew down to grasp Spike's hair and force Spike's face forward for the final few thrusts, each urgent thrust accompanied by an animalistic grunt.
Finally, Angel was spent. He pulled away from Spike and slid down onto his back on the bed. All was silent for a while, Angel lying like death, his face turned from his Childe. Spike risked one tentative hand on Angel's arm. He didn’t feel as if he could manage much more. He knew he was better than when Angel had first carried him into the hotel, but he didn't feel much like it now. It had been too much for him, Angel had been right the first time, but Spike was entirely content to be in agony again. ("I need you")
Spike had made Angel take him, despite his injuries and despite Angel's best intensions. The power this implied that he had over his Sire gave Spike a jolt of deep, deep satisfaction. ("I need you") It was true. Angel had needed him. He was worried now though that he'd lost Angel in some way. There had been no response to his hand on Angel's arm. He coughed lightly and this finally roused Angel.
When his Sire turned to him, Spike could have wept with pleasure. If he'd been a poof, which he was not, so he didn't. Angel looked happy. His face clearly said, 'I need you and you make me happy.' It was enough for Spike. He smiled back at Angel. No pretence: all his defences down. If he was William again now…well he didn’t even care about that. Angel pulled him closer and placed a deep, loving kiss on his lips, pushing his tongue in, demanding it follow where his cock had so recently been. Spike allowed it in, keeping his eyes locked on Angel's. Angel could clearly taste his own cum in Spike's mouth. He pulled away making a slight face, so Spike plunged his mouth back on Angel's deliberately running his tongue over Angel's taste buds. They laughed at each other, pulling away and lying side by side contentedly. Spike noticed Angel had not pulled his hand away and that their fingers were still entwined. He started rubbing his finger around on the back of Angel's hand. Angel only responded by curling onto his side and pulling Spike deeply into his strong embrace, wrapping his arms across Spike's chest. Angel's body covered every inch of Spike's back. They lay in their own sticky fluids, completely unconcerned, revelling in the smell and feel of their spent passion.
Spike hoped his voice did not betray the pain he was in. 'What, you poof?'
'Tomorrow. Tomorrow I want all of you.'
And that was that. Spike felt Angel slipping away into a deep sleep but was left with that promise ringing in his ears. Tomorrow. Angel had said it. A promise made over one hundred years ago was nearly fulfilled.
Spike lay still in Angel's arms. He knew he would not sleep much tonight. He could see some of Cordelia's painkillers lying on the table and painfully stretched out a hand, shaking a good handful into his mouth. He had nothing to wash them down with, so manfully chewed them for a while, hoping they would work on his vampire system.
He was not quite as concerned now about his body as he had been earlier. The reawakened agony had subsided to painful throbbing and he felt confident that no real damage had been done to his healing. If this was false optimism in the face of that promise, 'tomorrow,' well Spike didn’t care. It was his body, if he said it was better, then it was. But he couldn’t sleep. He decided not to fight wakefulness and settled in for a long night of thinking. He hadn't done that in years. He was aware that he was slipping back into old habits, not minding his old name and thinking too much. But he smiled to himself…Angel was slipping back too. Against his back he could distinctly feel soft, cool breathing. After two hundred and fifty years of not needing to breathe, Angel's short time as a human still had power to affect him.
At the feel of Angel's breath on him, as if he were a child in church, the singing of a single pure voice came unbidden into Spike's mind. As dust motes circled in shafts of sunlight coming in through stained glass windows, he looked up to coiled blond hair and heard that voice sing:
"Breathe on me breath of God"
He knew he was hallucinating, the pain affecting his rational mind, but it felt so real. He could feel a soft, strong hand holding his. He could see a loving face smile down at him, see the light shinning on blond hair…hair that he had perhaps unconsciously tried to recreate in his own bizarre colouring. How could she have foreseen her child's future? How could she have seen that many lifetimes later, as another's Childe, that simple hymn would come true for him?
"Breathe on me breath of God"
Spike closed his eyes. He didn't want to think about her. She was too special and only a memory. He wanted to think about Angel, who was real, and who was here with him now. He wanted to think about Angel's arms wrapped around his waist. He wanted to think about the slight bulge of Angel's penis against his backside. He wanted to think about Angel's voice as it had cried out its pleasure. He felt himself slipping away into a half-waking sleep. He hoped he would dream of Angel.
He was not impressed with himself on opening his eyes a moment later to see Darla standing by the open shutters, looking at him. That was his fucking luck all over. Go to bed thinking about Angel: dream of Darla. He knew he was having one of his vivid, disturbing dreams that he tried to blame on the chip in his head, but knew was really due to an over-active human imagination still buried somewhere in his brain.
If only Angel had told him more about how and where he had suffered his recent nighttime visits from his Sire, Spike might have taken this ghostly presence more seriously. He had somehow taken the impression that Angel had gone to Darla's hotel, or that they had done it in the car. It never occurred to him that Darla had come here, to this bed.
So he lay still, watching her. He wondered if this was one of those dreams where he could control events; so tried it. He tried to make Darla come out of the shadows and towards the bed where she could see them more clearly. He smiled to himself when she did. She came right up to the end of the bed. Spike now tried to direct her eyes to the things he particularly wanted her to see. He wanted her to look at Angel's face, deeply asleep and relaxed. He wanted her to see Angel's arms wrapped tightly around him. He wanted her to see Angel's penis freed from his boxers and lying between them. He wanted her to see the damp sheets and smell their meaning. He wanted her to see him, William, in bed with Angelus. And looking at her face, he saw that she did see all this. She saw every tiny detail of Angelus and William in bed.
But she saw more than Spike thought she saw. She saw the open bottle of oil dripping onto the sheet. She saw the glisten of oil on Spike's skin.
Angelus had never given her a massage.
She saw the TV placed where they could both see it.
She had never been allowed to lie in bed watching TV with her lover.
She saw the possessive way Angelus' arm tightened around Spike.
She did not recall him ever holding her lovingly after their energetic coupling.
She heard his soft breathing against Spike's shoulder.
She knew Angelus had never felt relaxed enough with her, to breathe in his sleep.
Lastly, she saw the books and the magazines strewn around the bed.
She had never been able to share Angelus' passion for knowledge and learning. She had not been able to lie in bed reading with him, because she could not read.
It would have been hard to say which of all these things angered her more. It all added up to the fact that William had won the battle with her over Angelus. Not only had they recently been having sex together in this bed, they had clearly gone far further than that. All this detritus pointed to a real relationship forming, not just sex. Her visits had been nothing more than hard, painful, unwanted sex.
She saw with blinding clarity that she was still nothing more than a prostitute, whereas, Spike, had become a lover.
She was beyond jealousy. Jealousy is a sharp, emerald green shard piercing your heart. Darla felt a blinding white light envelop her. She was incandescent with rage. Rage at herself for being weak, rage at Angelus for betraying her, but mostly rage at the blond vampire watching her with interest from the bed.
Spike only saw Darla stand as if in a trance at the foot of the bed. He could not concentrate. He felt himself slipping out of the dream and he did not fight it. He didn’t like this dream and he wanted to wake from it.
So, unfortunately, Spike actually fell asleep when he thought he was waking up. Darla saw his eyes flutter close. She saw him start to breathe.
And in her rage and hate she saw his breathing fall into rhythm with Angel's, the two of them wrapped in each other's arms and breathing deeply together.
He flew into the bedroom and regarded the scene that greeted him with horror.