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Learning To Share - Chapter 1

Some chapters Spike POV, some Angel POV

Oh crap. Now this ain't right. This is fucking weird. Cus I distinctly remember going to bed last night in his bed. Oh, yeah... I remember that all right... cus I went to bed alone. And I remember before that having me shower in his bathroom... cus I showered alone. And before that, I remember watching his TV... cus I was friggin' watching it alone. And yeah, I remember all day doing stuff by meself cus we'd had another fucking argument. All we seem to do these days is argue. So, I was thinking of coming back here, to me crypt. But I hadn't actually done it. Well, didn't think I had anyway. But I'm here now.

Shit happens on the Hellmouth, but this is just… odd. Everything looks normal. I feel normal. I'm still dead. I'm still me. Maybe it's another dimension. Fucking dimensions. Maybe it's a spell. Sodding spells. Hey, maybe the last six months have been a dream: going to LA, living with the poof, being with the poof, arguing with the poof. Shit, I hope not. Cus mostly it was good. 'Til it wasn't. 'Til it got bad. Very bad.


So, what the fucking hell am I supposed to do now? Better go an' see the Watcher. Ask him what 'planet' this is. 'Hello Rupert, what month is it, and am I actually here?' Fuck, do NOT want to do this.

God, Sunnydale cemetery don't change. That's reassuring. And hey, there's a juicy human over there. Sittin' on a bench in the middle of the night on his own in a cemetery on the Hellmouth.

Uh huh.

Wish I could bite 'im.

Hmm. If the last six months have been a dream, maybe the last six months plus four months when I got fucking chipped have been a dream, too. Oh, God I don't believe in, pleaseee make me not have this chip anymore. Pleaseee, when I creep up behind this warm, soft, gorgeous, moist, coppery, young man, pleaseee don't let me….

Oh, friggin' hell. Oh, me head. Oh, shit. Fucking fuck. Why is everything else different and wrong but not THIS?

'Did you just try to kiss me? Are you trying to pick me up? Are you cruising? And what's wrong with your head?'




Jesus, am I speechless for the first time in one hundred and twenty six years? 'Hello, Angel? Liam? Hello.'

'Do you know me?'

'Err….' I'm not sure how to answer this young man who is Angel. Well, not Angel, cus Angel is dead. So, is this Liam? But this young man looks like LA Angel, not fucking Irish Liam. Those shreds didn't come out of no bog! That $300 hair wasn't hacked by a knife. So I don't really know what to say. 'I don't know. Do I?'

'Well, you're the one who tried to kiss me… you should know.'

'I DID NOT TRY TO FRIGGIN' KISS YOU! I'm a soddin' vam… I'm not a fuckin' poof. It was a mistake.' Big, big mistake. 'So who the hell are you, and what are you doing in this place in the middle of the night? Don't you know this is Sunnydale?'

'I don't know. I wasn't here: then I was. Now I can't really remember much of anything. Why have you got nail polish on if you're not gay? And just what were you doing to my neck then?'

'Look, let's get out of here, shall we? It's not a good idea to hang around this place in the dark. I should know. I'm going to visit a friend. Wanna come?'

'Is this a 'he's got nice puppies you can stroke' sort of friend. If it is, then no.'

'I am NOT gay.'

'You sound gay.'

'Fuck off… I'm English… these-colours-don't-run fucking English… get it? Suit yerself. Come or don't come. I don't care.' But, oh, please come, cus this is the most intriguing thing that has ever happened to me. Well, except for being turned that is. But this is Angel. Angel's body, Angel's voice, Angel's hair… yep, same hair… Angel's clothes. Angel's walk. And, let's see… Angel's ass. But this is a man in his early twenties, and he clearly don't know me. Ohhhh, endless possibilities.

'Watcher. Wake up. It's me. Watcher!'

'Your friend doesn't seem to be home.'

'Observant little fuck, ain't yer? And that's never stopped me before. Ahh, there we are.' Git hides the key under a pot. What an innocent.

Odd. Again. Wonder where he is. Still, better make meself at home; he'd want that.

'So what now?'

'Beer now.'

'So, what now?'


'You've drunk all the beer now. And the whisky. So what now? I'm feeling really tired, and I want to go to sleep and wake up somewhere other than here. Somewhere I should be. Which is clearly not here.'

Oh, that can be arranged. Cus you are beautiful, and I'm drunk. And I want you. And I think I'll want you tomorrow. And the day after that. But don't want you getting all wrinkly. Don't want false teeth. Nah. Think I want you just as you are. Forever. Just like my Angel. But I ain't ever done this before. It's not something you just get up an' do. Is it? How did the poof do it? Can't remember. Concentrating on his large cock up me arse at the time. Oh. Now that's a thought.

But that's gonna be interesting, cus that's exactly what's not been happening in LA. That's what all the arguments have been about. Cus it just ain't right. I keep tellin' 'im. You're the Sire. I'm the Childe, and I ain't gonna stick it up yer arse. Ain't right, and I ain't gonna do it. And he don’t like that one bit. Says I don't love him, says I'm selfish. And duh! Course, I don't tell 'im the real reason. The truth is, I'm scared. Scared that I won't match up to the skill and expectation of a two hundred and fifty year old, very practiced Master Vampire.

So, young, moist, fleshy, warm, smelly, edible Angel/Liam, what AM I gonna do about this little problem, hey? Can you answer me that, me little happy meal?

'I'm going to find the bed and crash out. And with any luck you will be gone in the morning, and this will all be just a dream.'

I watch him as he sleeps. And he is totally Angel now. The awake version was bizarre. Angel with no poofy bits. Angel with no 'Dark Avenger' swagger. Angel without the swirly coat. That was weird. But this sleeping figure could be Angel. In the cold flesh. Hey! 'Cept that! That ain't Angel's. That's at least two inches longer. Fucking hell. How come this Angel's got a bigger dick? What sort of shitty parallel universe is this? This never happened on any episode of Star Trek I've ever seen. Hey… maybe this works for everyone here.

Oh Bloody Hell… what kind of shit is this? This is NOT mine. Well, it looks like mine, feels like mine. It's on me. But SODDING, FUCKING HELL! I am way bigger than this little thing. I am nine inches of solid fucking shaft. This is six inches of sausage.

I'm gonna kill someone.

Know what?

Think I'll kill him.

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