Making Him Mine - Chapter 7

It’s been three days now and I ought to let him go. Neither Wesley or I can see any sign of the damage we feared to his chip. They are even starting to get used to having him around. Strangely, he was the one to mend the bridge between Cordelia and me. I was at my desk and she came back to work. Neither of us knew where to look. You could cut the atmosphere with a knife. Spike just looked at her.

‘You don’t want to go in there, pet, he’s jacking off again!’

She looked at him, I looked at her, we looked at each other and suddenly everyone was laughing. She threw a file at me and I cuffed Spike on the back of the head.

I watch them together, sometimes, when I’m brooding at my desk. He is the sunshine in the office she wants to bask in. He is all light and swift movement and her laughter seems to follow after him. There seems to be no recognition now that he is the Big Bad vampire who hurt her boss. Her friend. She sees only this beautiful, sensual, passionate, fuckable…no wait, that’s me. That’s how I see him. Infinitely fuckable. We have hardly left each other's side for days. We make love endlessly, trying new positions, new things. Things I’ve never done before. He’s taking me into a new world and I am following him willingly.

I find myself finding excuses to go downstairs during the day. Just to be with him. It’s so much more than I ever expected to find on this lonely path to redemption. A companion.

How can you place a measure on the quality someone else can bring to simple daily routines? The first thing he did was re-instigate breakfast with Cordy and Wes. He seems to enjoy having them around. He likes company, likes the constant meaningless chatter that humans make. So instead of almost furtive drinking of animal blood alone and in the dark, I am brought out into the light of his life. I cook for them, I listen to the banter, I am included and I feel myself being pulled out from the dark spaces I have been inhabiting in my mind. He bought a treat for Cordelia this morning from the British Shop. Got me to cook it and watched while she tried it. Said he wanted to initiate her into a proper English Breakfast.

‘Hey, this is yummy, Spike. What is it?’

‘Black pudding, pet.’

‘Hah! Imaginative NOT!’

‘Yeah, well it’s also called blood pudding!’

‘Oh, like the wine, Bulls’ Blood, cus it’s a nice deep red colour?’

And he’s loving this, he’s the centre of everyone’s attention. Because I know, Wesley knows of, course and Spike flashes me a huge grin of delight…

‘Err, no, pet…there’s a much better reason than that!’ He stares at her. Eyebrows raised with that smirk on his face that says, ‘come on, Cordelia, work it through.’ Then she does.

‘Oh…noooo…please don’ t tell me I’ve…ewww…you are so gross, Spike.’

If I don’t surround myself with these humans, I won’t be able to cope with being this close to him. Having him here with me, all the time. Knowing that I should just leave. Now. Cancel the spell. Let him be himself again. Free. But I’m a soddin’ coward really. I’d rather live this lie for a few days more, than face the reality of life alone again. Cus the best part of this love spell? It’s not the shaggin’ or the suckin’ or the fuckin’ rest of the fuckin’ things I thought I wanted. It’s this. It’s this moment here. It’s being able to make him laugh. It’s havin’ someone to watch me shows with. Or watch me, while I watch ‘em. It’s someone to wake up with, be woken up by. It’s the little, intimate things that I never imagined this spell would bring. But it has.

So, this is the best and the worst. I could pretend I’d stopped loving him when he left me. I could pretend I didn’t love him when he tricked me. I did stop loving him when he took Dru from me. I even found it hard to love him sometimes when he never seemed to care for me...never wondered how I was coping, how I was living, neutered. But I won’t ever stop loving this Angel. I won’t ever stop loving this man who so desperately seems to need what I can so easily give him. Companionship. So by the magic I insisted on, I’ve created exactly what I’ve been wanting and needing all these years. All the best parts of Angelus and Angel, together in one being. And it’s all just a trick of the light. Insubstantial as a fucking fairy.

I desperately try to think of excuses to keep him a little longer. I almost hope to see some signs of his recent bizarre behaviour, just so I can persuade him to stay. But fate takes it’s own path one day when Cordy has a vision. When I come down to the apartment to collect the weapons I think I will need to do the job, I find Spike waiting for me.

‘I want to come, too’

‘No, Spike. It’s far too dangerous for you’.

‘Angel, I’ve been dustin’ for the Slayer for months now, no problem’.

‘What if there are humans there, too? You’d be defenceless’.

‘Well, I’ve got you, haven’t I?’

So, that’s how it started. Spike, my companion in the quiet hours, my passionate lover and now my partner in the good fight. My everything.

Even fighting is easier with Spike by my side. It’s not just the knowing he will watch my back. Knowing he will take some of the burden of killing from me. It’s knowing I can share the fear and the pain that killing inevitably brings. Because every life you take, even demon life, leaves it’s small chip in the armour of your moral fortitude. Spike understands that and that understanding gives me the strength to continue.

The demon was awesome. It must have weighted over 300 lbs and seemed to be semi-armoured. It had clearly been in the underground electrical tunnel for some days, because the evidence of its feeding was all around. I could sense Spike just behind me all the way though the dark tunnel. His obscene commentary on the filth and smell, distracting me from just those things and making the job easier and…more fun! This was like the old days. Angelus and William the Bloody, hunting. It made me feel safe and powerful. And I needed that when I saw the demon. It took both of us over an hour to kill it. We were utterly exhausted before it fell to a final strike to its head from Spike’s axe. There was nothing I could do for the victims except mourn them. There was no one left alive. As I stood looking down at their pitiful remains I felt a soft hand on my arm and Spike was there, standing with me in the dark, mourning too.

Huge fucker woulda killed the poof if I hadn’t have been there. How can I leave him now? He’s started to rely on me. He knows I’m watching his back, so he doesn’t watch it himself. He trusts me to be there for him. What if I’m not? What if I’m not there when the killing is done? What if I’m not there when he sees the pitiful humans he longs to protect? What if I’m not there when his tears come? It will break my heart.

When we come back we are both exhausted and filthy. Spike’s platinum hair is a strange brown colour and mussed. His face is a mask of blood and dust. I guess I ‘m not lookin’ too pretty either.

‘Shower, mate?’

He sheds his clothes as he moves over to the bathroom. I hear the water running. I stand in the bedroom and look over to the mess And suddenly I have a vision of life without that untidy pile of clothes strewn so carelessly on my bedroom floor. The sterility of that image is overwhelming. Unbearable. Whatever happens, I have to keep Spike here with me. Forever.

I wonder if he will come in? I pray to all the Gods who shafted me one hundred and twenty six years ago, he doesn’t. I think this love spell is so badly fucked up now – I’ve so badly fucked it up - that I don’t know what I want anymore. I have to leave, but it’s always tomorrow, always put off for one more day. I’m a coward.

I feel the light touch of his hands on my back and I die a little inside. God, Angel, break free from this spell, please. Be yourself again. I can’t bear to see you trapped like this.

He trails one light finger seductively up my back, questioning, asking permission to be there. He starts to speak. but I bow my head under the stream of water trying to block out feeling along with the words.

‘Spike?’

He rubs his hands lightly over my back in small concentric circles of love. He leans against my shoulder, turning his cheek to lie it gently against my skin. He wraps his arms around my body, enfolding me in his deep embrace.

‘Spike. I love you.’

And with that simple declaration, all thought is ended. All hope gone. In achieving exactly what I wanted, I realise for the first time, I have exactly nothing. Because I’ve always had the promise in my mind that if I was good enough, if I was evil enough, if I was loud enough, shit, if I was needy enough, then he would love me. THEN HE WOULD LOVE ME. Why now? Why only now with a fucking spell. Why couldn’t he have loved me for just being me? All these fucking years trying to win his love. All the time and effort and planning and failure and fuck-ups and he loves me now. He loves me cus some sodding witch put a piece of his hair in a jar.

Even the water seems stilled. No breathing, no movement. No response. What have I done? I’ve committed myself. I’ve bared my soul and there’s no response.

I lift my head, take a deep unnecessary breath. I have an eternity to regret this last week. I have an eternity to miss what I have right here, right now. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I’ll end it. Tomorrow I’ll go back to Sunndyhell and get the spell revoked. But now? Oh…now I take what I need to give me the strength to face that eternity of loneliness. I take the comfort when it is offered.

I turn to face him and cup his face gently in my hands. If there are tears on my face, I hope the water hides them. I make him look at me. His face is creased with self-doubt and worry. He’s been forced to love me. Oh that he never comes to know how the balance of power in our relationship has shifted with this betrayal.

His face is a mask of pain and anguish. Does he fear I’ll take him so far, only to reject him again? Will he respond to my declaration?

‘I know you do, Angel, and I’m so sorry. So very sorry.’

And then I lower my head onto his vulnerable neck. And for the second time in one hundred and twenty six years I have the power to take him. To take him in every way. And he can’t and won’t object. Cus I’ve made him love me. I lick over the exposed vein in his cold, strong neck and when he gasps in surprise and delight, I betray him for the first time tonight. I sink my fangs into him and drink deeply from the wound I make there. And when his knees buckle, I betray him again. I take my engorged cock in one hand and grab his hair with the other.

‘You, Angel. You suck me. That’s how this works tonight.’ Reject me Angel, break free. Recoil from this transgression. Please, be free.

But he doesn't. Trapped in this illusion of love, he can't. He takes me in both hands and holds me whilst his tongue explores the sensitive tip of my cock. Whilst his tongue tries to dip into the slit and capture the first taste of my arousal. And then it’s easy to betray him again. Cus I don’t wait for this loving administration. I thrust painfully into his mouth. Don’t love me, Angel. Don’t love me. Go back to hating me. Please. Cus I am dying tonight with each betrayal. But I don’t stop. Why should I? I have eternity to remember and to regret. And once the spell is removed. I’ll have eternity to survive alone.

I never expected Spike to respond like this. He’s been so different, so normal. I’d almost forgotten he is still a demon. And this just adds another layer of want and need and lust and passion and desire for this creature under the water with me. With Will it was always submission, always fear he would overstep the childe boundaries. With Spike? He seemed to revel in the submission to my stronger will, enjoying the fight. But who is this? Who is this dominant, confident lover in here with me tonight? Could he match my need? Have I finally found a lover who will be my equal?

I speed up my mouth and lips on his cock. I start to bring my teeth into play, grating them along the exposed veins. His hold on my hair tightens, this time out of necessity as I feel his knees buckle slightly with the onrush of his orgasm. He’s pulling my face into his crotch, matching my thrusts, and I hear him hissing my name, as if in pain,

‘Angel, Angel, Angel!’

I cum in a cold rush in his mouth, but I don’t even pause, I pull sharply away catching the last of my dead seed in my hand and fall to my knees, pushing him down onto his stomach into the warm water pooling in the base of the shower. I rub my hand around my cock, bringing it instantly back to life, lubricating it with my own cum. And for the second time ever I enter Angel. When I come for a second time tonight, deep inside his body, the final act of betrayal is almost done.

But not quite. Oh yeah, the final act is reserved for when he wakes up in the morning. When he wakes up tomorrow he’ll be alone. When he wakes up in the morning, I’ll be gone. But he’ll be free. Free to hate me again.

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