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Chapter 13

Angel woke first and thought for a moment that his soul had gone. His body was too satisfied to be Angel. His senses were too aware of blood and cum to be Angel. He opened his eyes to the gloom of the blanket covering them, and for the first time realised that he had all this but was still Angel. Memory returned. Awareness of pain returned, and he felt the endless weight, once more, of being Angel.

He could not see Spike very well, not only for the gloom, but because he seemed to be lying on his childe, stuck to him with dried fluids. He shifted slightly, peeling himself off the pale body. Spike turned over, and once more their faces were only inches apart on the pillow.

Angel frowned, but Spike saw a small pout hiding around the edges of the expression. He watched the lowered eyes for a moment then said neutrally, 'Forgiven?'

Angel made a small hiss and caught hold of Spike's wrist, tightening his hold inexorably. Spike started to frown then wince, and then he cried out softly and nodded his understanding. Angel let the wrist drop, and Spike snatched it back. 'Fucker.' He made to pull the blanket off them, but Angel clamped his hand back.


'Fuck off, Angel! I need a fag.'

'No, you don't.' Angel pulled on the bruised wrist and jerked Spike to him, grasping him around the back of the head and opening his mouth to receive urgent hard kisses.

Spike tore his mouth away. 'You think I'd give up nicotine for you, Wanker?'

Angel raised a lazy eyebrow. 'Will you?'

Spike moaned, and in the dark of their covering, he slid on top of Angel. They were a tangle of warmed limbs, and they rolled, kissing and touching and arousing their preternatural bodies. Suddenly, with a small groan, Spike held Angel still and looked down at his jerking shaft empting itself over Angel's belly. He tipped his head back at the relief and just rocked until his orgasm finished. Angel took hold of Spike's shoulders and pushed him down on the slickness, until Spike lay over his very needy erection. Spike took it in his mouth, swallowing it to the back of his strong throat and draining it by the power of his own arousal.

Angel shuddered his release into Spike, his hips rising off the bed and drumming the sperm deep into the welcoming throat. Spike allowed the softening penis to stay in his mouth, but Angel pushed him off, adjusted the thick blanket over their heads more fully and turned his back. Spike turned so his back was to Angel's and began to drift back off to sleep. A huge gurgle of hunger from Angel made him smile. His own stomach rumbled in response, and Spike heard a small 'Fuck' from Angel's side of the bed.

Angel sighed at the next grumble of complaint from his stomach and made to sit up, but a strong, inflexible, insistent arm snaked out and held him still. Wordlessly, Spike turned so his arm could fix around Angel's waist. He made himself more comfortable and appeared to go back to sleep, his hold of Angel, however, never wavering.

Angel almost smiled but forced himself not to and went back to sleep as well.

Neither could ignore the hunger when they next woke.

With a sigh, Angel peered out from under the blanket. 'Dark.'

'Maybe they're all gone.'

Angel nodded faintly and slid out, pulling on his jeans and slipping out of the door. He returned quickly with an armful of blood bags and a small, pleased smile on his face.

He deposited the bags on the bed, stripped off and slid back into rumpled sheets. He removed Spike's cigarette and pulled the covers back over their heads once again. In their safe, enclosed space, he ripped open a bag and passed it to Spike, opening one for himself and lying back so the rich liquid could pour down his throat. Spike watched the erotic sight for a while, enjoying memories he'd repressed for a very long time. When Angel paused to open another bag, Spike said quietly, 'See anyone?'


Spike paused then said, watching Angel through lowered lids, 'Where's the new and improved you then?' He took a slow, arrogant swallow of blood.

Angel turned incredulous eyes on Spike as if he could not believe the audacity, but then shook his head and almost smiled. He returned to his blood but said between swallows, 'Wesley's been taking it home with him at night.'

Spike spluttered a mouthful of blood across Angel splattering their small blanket cave. Angel, still trying not to smile, didn't seem to mind. He moaned faintly, and dropping his own bag, he turned to Spike and began to lick over his face and torso, catching the drips and splashes on his eager tongue. Spike rolled onto his back and stretched to the cleaning, and when Angel pulled away, a fleeting look of disappointment crossed his face. Angel smirked at the look, took a huge mouthful of blood from the bag and turned back. He cupped Spike's neck with one powerful hand and pulled his mouth up to receive blood. Spike murmured his disbelief, but opened his mouth wide and took the offered benediction. Mouthful by mouthful, Angel fed Spike, sometimes trickling the offering in exquisitely slowly, sometimes letting a huge wash of blood flood into Spike's mouth and pour down his throat. Blood leaked and dripped from their mouths onto the sheets, but it only joined old blood and was not noticed. Blood ran down their chins and onto chests, and that was noticed and followed and captured and brought back to be fed upon. After a while, for variety, Angel pushed a finger into the blood bag and brought it coated to Spike's lips. He teased the tip around, tracing the lines of the finely delineated mouth. He eased the finger in through firmly closed lips, and they both moaned at the sensation. Spike licked teasingly at the finger then with a seductive lowering of his eyes, murmured, 'Angel, I need you.'

Angel looked up, caught between anger and amusement at the near perfect imitation of Wesley's accent. He remembered just in time that anger ought to win out and punched Spike fairly hard in the belly. Spike only laughed and continued to look at him with a small smirk. 'Don't tell me you haven't thought about what they're doing.'

'Fuck off, Spike.'

'I know you need me, Wesley, and I'm here to relieve need wherever I see it.' Spike's smirk grew at his own brilliance, pleased with the Angel impersonation.

'Shut up, Spike.' Angel saw Spike's lips opening once more, so clamped his hand across them, none too gently. Spike made a small sound of slightly robotic ecstasy against Angel's palm, so Angel punched him in the belly again, but then followed the punch by pressing his face once more to Spike's wound. He rubbed into the slight bleeding he'd caused, coating his face with Spike's blood. Spike ran his fingers though the sticky, tangled hair and murmured his pleasure.

Angel slid his face up Spike's body, licking and kissing at the blood and gore. He reached a nipple, and they both paused, waiting.

When it came, the bite made Spike cry out and then beg for more. Angel fastened onto Spike's nipple as eagerly as he had fastened onto other lovers', and did not seem to mind its inadequacies. He licked the tiny nub and nuzzled in as if feeding. He snuffled around the flat, hard muscle, and Spike did not need to look down to know that a heavily ridged forehead rubbed against him and fangs teased their demonic way over his aureole.

Spike arched back as one particularly hard bite made his balls tighten again. He felt his penis swelling, and the more Angel bit and suckled, the more Spike thought about cuming. Finally, he pushed Angel's head away and forced him onto his back. It was getting hot under the covers, and Angel's face was beaded with perspiration. Spike ran a finger along his forehead, and as he did, Angel slipped back into his human face. Spike pouted for a moment, then put a hand on Angel's thigh.

Angel frowned, looked down, but did no more.

Spike slid his hand under the warm thigh and began to lift it.

Angel raised an eyebrow in disbelief, but still did nothing.

Spike slid further down in the bed and continued to push Angel's thigh up. He bent his face into Angel, and with one last glance up to see if he would be stopped, he placed his tongue to Angel's perineum. He felt Angel freeze as if waiting to see which way he would go. With a small, private smile, Spike slid up and began to lick and enjoy Angel's hard balls. He did not miss the small hiss of annoyance.

After a few minutes of enjoying and stimulating the soft sac, Spike began to trail his tongue back down the perineum. He drew out the agony and the anticipation, so when the very tip of his warm, soft tongue landed into the indentation of Angel's anus, Angel was able to do nothing else but cry out with a high-pitched, uncontrollable sound of intense pleasure.

Spike worked and played with Angel for a long time. He drove his sire almost mad by licking and pushing, pressing and teasing soft fingers over puckered skin. Gradually, he eased himself up so he was half lying on Angel. He lifted Angel's thigh higher and just waited for him to catch up. It took Angel a few moments, but he suddenly jerked his head forward and looked down at Spike through the gloom of the lair.


'Why not?'


'Because what?'

'Because….' Angel seemed perplexed at this, and Spike took advantage of the confusion by presenting his swollen cockhead to the soft, prepared anus.

He swirled it over the flushed, distended opening, rubbing his cool secretions over hot skin. 'Why not?'


'But I want to. I loathe you, and I want to show you just how much.'

Angel hesitated, and Spike began to ease through. Before Angel could stop him, Spike's cockhead was in, the indented ring settling comfortably into the stretched hole.

Watching Angel's face intently, inch by inch, Spike teased his whole penis into Angel.

At each inch, Angel clenched his jaw tighter until Spike was fully embedded. Then Spike began to move. Angel screwed his eyes tightly shut and as if suppressing his emotions. Spike allowed this for a while, but then bent to Angel's ear and whispered, 'You can moan if you want, poof; no one to hear but me.'

Angel's eyes flew open, and he shoved Spike away from him, but quickly caught again at his shoulders, to ensure he did not go too far. Spike grinned inwardly and continued to slide in and out of the tight channel. Having been given permission to moan, as if Spike knew his secret thoughts, Angel clearly felt it beholden upon him to make no sound or other sign of pleasure at all. It became a battle of wills between them: Spike working hard to make Angel admit he wanted and liked being taken, and Angel to give the appearance that this was merely another way he was showing his childe how much he hated him.

Spike won. He shifted slightly to get a better position and placed his hands either side of Angel's head. He sped up a little. Angel maintained his cool nonchalance, until he lifted his thigh fractionally to move it out of Spike's way. Spike saw his eyes dilate. He heard a sharp intake of breath and a slow letting out of a soft moan. He felt Angel's fingers digging into his back, raking down his bare skin, and then he felt Angel coming up to meet him, thrusting and arching to give him better access. Spike didn't know what he'd done to cause this sudden involvement, but he grinned with a self-satisfied smirk as he rode hard and deep into Angel's rectum. If Angel saw the smirk of victory, he didn't let on. He seemed too intent in the sensations thudding through his body.

Spike felt his own orgasm rushing up. He bowed his head to Angel's belly, overcome with the knowledge that he was ejaculating into his sire's body and felt soft, cool plops of cum wetting his face. That he had made Angel cum with him was almost too much, and when he had his full release, Spike slipped out of the slick hole and lay on his back next to Angel, panting.

He sensed that Angel had turned his head and was watching him, so he took a leap of faith and turned to stare back at Angel. Angel looked deeply into Spike's eyes and said distinctly, 'I ought to stake you for that.'

Spike raised an eyebrow. 'Do it then.'

Angel looked away. 'Who else would I have to focus all my hatred on?'

Spike turned his back and curled up slightly. Angel adjusted the blanket so nothing of the outside leaked in to where they were, and so where they were stayed just them and spooned Spike against him, holding him tightly around the waist and pressing his softening, damp penis against Spike's hard backside. They slept, and when Spike woke, the arm was fixed just as firmly around him. Their bodies were pressed together from where Angel's face buried into his hair, to where Angel's feet were twisted and entwined with his.

Spike twitched back the blanket, glad he did not need to breathe. He glanced at the clock and groaned. A hand appeared and pulled him back under the blanket, but this time, Spike refused to be drawn back in, and he said neutrally, 'It's Saturday.'

There was a definite, if undecipherable sound from Angel's side of the bed, and his head emerged into the soft, early morning light. Spike looked at him for a moment then put his head down on folded arms, waiting. Angel sat up in the bed, and after what seemed like an age said, 'You have to be gone before we return from….'


'Don't do this, Spike.'

Spike jerked his head round at him, but Angel gritted his teeth and said distinctly, 'I can't have you here. I need to… I am… you pull me back. You all do: Darla, Dru… I need to be what they need me to be, and I can't be that with you here. I want you gone when I get back.'

Spike turned back and inspected his nails with complete disinterest in the proceedings, but he did enquire casually, 'And what was all this then?'

Angel began to climb out of the bed, peeling the sheet off his skin as he did. Without turning around, he said distinctly, 'I wanted to match you for contempt, Spike. Now I do. I feel nothing but disdain for you, too. I want you gone. Hear my words, Spike. Be gone by the time I return.'

Spike watched Angel pulling on his jeans and watched him leave without a backward glance.


The crypt was particularly unappealing after almost two weeks living in a hotel room above ground. It was dark, and it was claustrophobic.

Spike removed the last evidence of the robot's existence and went back to his unlife. He fed occasionally; he patrolled with the slayer occasionally; he slept even more occasionally. He drank almost continually, for it dulled the pain from wounds he could see and, if he drank enough, allowed him to escape temporarily from the pain of those he could not.

He'd been back a few days and was lying in his bed recovering from one of these heavy drinking bouts, when he heard familiar footsteps above him in the crypt. He closed his eyes to the inevitable and waited for him to come down the ladder. He felt the mattress depress, but did not open his eyes.

'You should light some candles; it's too dark down here.'

Spike turned his back and clenched his jaw, determined not to respond.

'I'm sorry.'

Spike didn't even bother to hear that.

'I-I thought…. We got Cordy back okay. Thought you might want to know.'

Spike felt a sense of outrage wash over him, and he flung around, punching Angel squarely in the face. Angel doubled over for a moment, holding his nose, but then sat up, nodding slightly. 'I deserved that.'

'What do you want, Fucker?'

'I want to say I'm sorry. I want you to come back with me.'

'To LA?'

'Of course. Where else?'

'Angel! What the fuck is this? You can't say you hate me, you can't say there's nothing but contempt, and then come here like this.'

Angel put his hand to Spike's cheekbone and ran his thumb along it softly. 'I need you.'

'You said I dragged you back!'

'That's why I need you. I want to go back.'

Spike sat up sharply and looked around for a moment as if to steady himself. 'What you sayin', Angel? That you want to… lose your soul again?'

'Yeah. I want to give it to you. Look.'

Spike felt a small scream of panic welling up from his belly, but his eyes did not obey his urgent comment not to look. They lowered slowly, and Spike's gaze raked over the leather-clad body until they reached Angel's belly. There, a maw of swirling pain, twisted and writhed as if alive. Angel smiled and then plunged his hand into it, ripping it out and holding it on his palm like a small orb. 'Here. It's for you, Spike. My soul. Make it yours, cus I don't want it anymore.' Angel thrust it at Spike and wedged it into his belly, ripping a hole, forcing it in, twisting and thumping his hand deeper when the soul was too big for his childe. Spike's scream of fear and agony brought small flakes of earth down from the roof of his chamber, and he writhed on the bed as the soul took hold.

Then all was pain from remembrance of the things he had done and guilt for the things he still wanted to do. It burned him and made him shiver with cold. He looked across at a smiling Angel and cried out for help, but Angel only laughed. 'I hate you, Spike. Shit, I hate you. Why would I want to help you?' Suddenly, Angel's eyes flickered toward the steps, and he frowned. He put a hand to Spike's sweating face and said quietly, 'I have to go now, but I'll be back. Wait for me.'

Spike arched back on the bed to try and escape from the burning in his belly; he writhed, desperately ripping at his stomach. Then he could not get his hands to the soul that was tearing him apart, for they were leaden and would not obey his commands. He could still hear Angel's voice. It seemed different, louder and more insistent. Suddenly, one arm was free, and he stabbed at his belly, but he was rocked to one side by a blow to his face.

The agony was gone. He looked down at his naked belly, and there was no maw, only deep scratch marks where he'd tried to remove it. Angel was still there, but now Spike stared confusedly at soft cashmere and silk.

He suddenly hissed and rolled off the bed away from Angel. Angel stood and put out placating hands, but then seemed to realise that nothing he did would relieve Spike's confusion. He settled for a soft 'You were dreaming again.'

Spike gave him a 'you think?' look of total derision and poured himself another drink with shaking hands.

'What was it this time?'

Spike whirled around. 'Fuck off, Angel! You have no right to be here, and you most definitely don't have the right to soddin' ask me what I dream about.'

'I do when it's about me.'

'Sod off! Sod off! Do you hear me? Fucking sod off! You said you didn't want me. You have nothing but contempt for me! NOW SOD OFF!'

It seemed to occur to both of them at much the same time that having sucked, fucked and fed off each other, rolled and slept in shared blood, cum and sweat for several days, there was little point to be gained in continuing this argument.

Angel kicked off his shoes and sat back on the bed. Spike brought his drink closer and then lay down, the glass balanced on his belly.

'What did I do in the dream, Spike? Tell me.'

'You said you were sorry and that you forgave me.'

Angel hesitated for a fraction of a second, and then he reared over Spike, pinning him down, the glass slipping with a dull thud to the floor of the crypt. His eyes were dark, deep, unreadable, too clear - they were just too intense to look in at all, and Spike turned his face. Angel forced him to look back with a vicious hold on his jaw. He spoke through gritted teeth, each word chillingly enunciated. 'There was one chip that made that fucking thing… wank continuously, furiously - like a dog licking its own balls. I found….' Angel looked away for a moment, and Spike could now read the expression all too clearly. 'I found them all watching it. In shock, I guess. Before they turned it off. But, Spike, WHAT DID YOU THINK YOU WERE DOING?'

Spike closed his eyes, unable to defend what he'd done or rationalise the intent. The darkness was his only defence. He sensed Angel's face getting lower, anticipated the blow with weary inevitability, but was startled when soft lips touched gently to his closed lids. 'Open up. See the contempt I feel for you.' Angel shifted the light touch to the other lid and moaned faintly, 'Open up.' He nuzzled into Spike's ears then his neck, repeating his soft litany of contradiction.

Only when Angel's lips finally came to his, did Spike open his eyes as commanded. He did not think Angel's look was contemptuous, but he acknowledged he could no longer tell what was real and what was not. The kiss seemed very real. The kiss was all need. The kiss was all desire, but he could not allow himself to be so lost in these contradictions. He closed his eyes again as Angel began to undo his jeans. He heard Angel's zipper and allowed himself to be turned over. He kept his eyes closed and his face neutral as Angel entered him. He managed to prevent himself displaying any emotion until the very end. Angel wrapped his arm around Spike's throat and lowered his face into the hollow of his childe's neck with a soft 'Oh' as he shuddered deeply into the slim body. Spike's eyes flew open, and he made a soft answering moan as he emptied into the mattress.

Angel lay down on Spike's naked body until his penis stopped throbbing and his balls no longer ached. He pulled out of Spike and rolled off to one side then sat up and fastened his pants. He sensed Spike watching him as he bent to tie his shoes, but resisted the irresistible need to turn.

He stood with his head hung down for a moment then left. Spike was able to hear his footsteps until the sound of the door being slammed jerked him back to reality. Not for long though. He drank whatever he had, dressed and went out for more, drinking that on the way back. Just able to walk, he made it back to the crypt and collapsed onto a bed that now smelt like his memories of LA, this reality surrendering beautifully to that more seductive one.

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