Who Can I Turn To? - 6
Although they didn't have cable, Spike turned on the television in Angel's room, threw his coat and boots into his room and made himself comfortable on the bed. He immediately became engrossed in a black and white programme about the war and refused to be drawn on anything else, claiming he was fascinated with the documentary.
Angel left him with the alcohol and went into the bathroom. He peeled off his travelling clothes gratefully and lowered himself into as hot and as deep a bath as he could coax out of the ancient plumbing. He smiled faintly: he always thought of the Hyperion as old, but this place had been standing before Christopher Columbus was born - although they may have updated the pipe work a little since then.
He closed his eyes and let the water weave its magic on his body. No natural temperature of his own, he responded like no human could to the seeping warmth. He felt something cold against the back of his hand and opened his eyes to Spike, sitting on the rim of the bath, handing him a whisky. He took it and watched Spike thoughtfully through lowered lids. Their relationship was so intricately tied up with why they were on this trip, he wondered what Spike was thinking as he studied his naked body in the water. They had tormented her with that very relationship, finding demonic pleasure in her abhorrence. Spike swirled his hand through the water, not touching the warming skin. Then he got up and went back to the television.
Angel didn't bother to attempt to dress; they were well past that coyness now. He just dried and walked naked back into his room and slid in between the sheets next to Spike. There was a late night horror film on, which seemed applicable, and Angel watched Spike watching it for a while before he coughed slightly and put a hand on his arm.
'Come on, sleep. You can watch TV all day tomorrow.'
Spike nodded as if in a daze and flicked the switch on the remote control, seemingly fascinated in the small red dot left on the set. He pursed his lips and, without looking at Angel, asked quietly, 'Can I sleep with you again? This place is creeping me out.'
'It was supposed to, Spike, and of course.'
It was all he needed. He flung off his tee-shirt and jeans, and wrapped himself tightly around Angel once more in his vampire-makes-a-lair twisting and turning. He was still for a moment then moved away slightly and looked at Angel with a deep, appraising stare. 'You're hot.'
'I've just had a bath, yeah.'
'I've never … you've never been hot. That's new.'
'We've not been with each other since I've learnt to lie in hot baths.'
Spike came closer again and ran his hands down Angel's arm, from his solid bicep to his warm wrist. Angel moaned faintly and pulled his arm away. 'Don't, Spike.'
Spike sat up on his knees and placed a hand on Angel's belly, and stroked it up over his soft nipples. They were large, soft and swollen from the heat but peaked up when Spike pinched them. Angel rolled over onto his belly. 'You'd better go to your own bed, Spike.'
Spike trailed his finger down from Angel's hairline to the crack of his ass and then lower, dragging it through the fissure and over Angel's puckered entrance. 'Go, Spike, just leave now, please,' but he opened his legs fractionally, so Spike had better access to his anus.
Spike leant over and pushed his cold tongue into the hot hole and cooled it. Angel whimpered as he bit back the command for Spike to leave once more. Suddenly, the cool tongue swirled around his ear, and Spike licked delicately into the shell-like ridges as he said quietly, 'Hush, luv, just relax, hey? If we become… lovers, if we're going to last like you want, we need to see if it's all gonna work, don't we?'
Angel laughed into the pillow. 'You reason like the devil you are, Spike. That's crap, and you know it.' He felt Spike pull away and felt the loss of the contact acutely. He turned over and found Spike sitting cross-legged behind him, his face buried in his hands. Nothing Angel could do could prize the face out from its hiding place, so he sat patiently, waiting, and just said, 'Tell me. I've been here, remember?'
'I don't know if I can anymore.'
Angel didn't pick up on Spike's tone and only said lightly, 'What? What can't you do?'
'Err… are you swearing, or telling me.…'
'I'm not sure I can do it like I used to. I wanted to see. That's what I meant. If we.…' He lifted his face at last. 'If we do work all this out then what if I can't anyhow? Buggered then, ain't we… or not.'
Angel frowned. 'Spike. You have a soul; it doesn't make you impotent. I am not a eunuch - despite rumours to the contrary.'
Spike laughed with absolutely no humour in the sound at all. 'Don't be dense, Angel. I know I can get it up… but think back, luv. Think back to how I was… what you liked… the pain, the blood… it was….'
'Demonic.' They both knew this was a statement, and not a question.
'So … you're not sure you can do those things now you're souled?'
'Fuck, you're smart Angel; talking with you really helps me see clearly.'
Angel ignored the irony of Spike's tone and lay down, folding his arms behind his head. He began to chuckle. The chuckle turned into a deep rumble of laugher. Spike got off the bed and went into his own room, slamming the door theatrically between them.
He did not know how much time had passed, but Spike only felt darkness envelop him. Angel's demonic presence lay heavy on him, and he was crushed into the mattress. Angel began to rub his still warm body over Spike's cold one; Spike arched to the contrasting sensations and moaned a quiet refusal of Angel's need. Angel slipped a hand around and placed it over his mouth. 'Don't Spike. Don't speak. This isn't me or you or issues about your soul or mine or the need I have for you. This is just bodies, okay? This is just fucking: just for this moment. You need to find yourself tonight, so you can face what you must tomorrow. Will you let me help you?'
Spike stretched his arms over his head, and Angel took this small, familiar gesture as all the permission he needed. He bit deeply into his own wrist and smeared the blood over Spike. He slipped into Spike's anus, sliding his hands up the strong arms and clamping down on the wrists before he began to thrust in. He only moved his hips; he dipped at the waist as he lay on his childe and pushed his penis in deeply, and then reared up, pulling it out. He began to find a familiar rhythm; it unwound memories for them both. Spike began to claw at the pillows, and Angel knew he was almost ready. He made a few more dips into the tight channel, watched the hands claw some more, heard moaning, then suddenly pulled out and flipped Spike over, laughing gleefully, 'Your turn!'
He saw Spike reanimate. The scared, hesitant, confused vampire he'd travelled from America with disappeared in that instant at the old familiar game. Spike looked up at Angel stunned for moment; then he screeched in laughter, flung Angel onto his hands and knees, stretched his legs open, and thrust in, making Angel tear and bleed as he heaved his need into the welcoming rectum. Angel groaned as the unfamiliar familiar sensations began to crawl up his spine. He bent supplely at the waist and held onto the headboard. When he felt the crest beginning to build, when he heard unnecessary panting from Spike, he whipped around and shoved Spike hard onto the floor. 'My turn again!'
Spike howled in delight and spread himself against the bed; Angel flung himself off and stood behind him, revelling in the sight of the small, dark hole. He bent his legs slightly, flexing, and then forced himself in once more. Spike was laughing, and Angel caught him around the neck with one strong arm and pulled him up to standing. 'Don't fall.'
They both knew that was impossible. One thrust and Spike collapsed on the bed impaled on Angel: they both panted their glee at the feel of Angel riding his childe, and Angel just grasped Spike by the hair and increased the pounding. Spike felt he was about to explode. He jerked his body back hard, connected his hard cheeks with Angel's balls, and heard the sharp intake of breath. He wrenched off Angel's cock and flipped around, propelling Angel back into the wall. 'My turn.' Angel nodded desperately, and turned, groaning, and Spike kicked his legs apart and took his turn. They were both really close now, and Angel turned his head, looking at Spike over his shoulder with a feral look. They also knew the game was reaching the high point of fun. Who got to come in a tight ass; who got to splatter onto cold walls? Spike grinned back and slammed Angel into the wall, mashing his face against the wallpaper as he jerked his penis deeply in. Angel knew he was very close: Spike was deliberately working his prostate, trying to bring him off. He grinned and suddenly pushed himself back off the wall, and they tumbled back to the bed, Spike on his back, Angel on top of him. Spike slid out, and Angel grinned, flipping around and grabbing Spike's thigh. He lifted it up, panted, 'My turn,' and thrust in. Spike groaned and met Angel's thrusts, hips rising to meet the dark thatch of hair that sent the hard column deep into his body, making him wriggle and squeal in delight.
Spike brought Angel so close to orgasm that Angel had stopped thrusting and was trembling against his hole, as his body built a release deep in his balls. Spike grinned and skittered away on his back over the bed. Angel opened his eyes and howled in rage, and Spike flung himself on Angel, knocking him onto his back. Spike straddled him, looked at Angel with an amused expression and said triumphantly, 'My turn.' He made to lower himself on the engorged, weeping, ready cock. Angel closed his eyes and tipped his head back with the power of his conquest then opened them with outraged swearing as Spike slid back, lifted his thigh and plunged in on the mixture of blood, precum and sweat, lubricating Angel's hole. It didn't take long then. Both on a desperate peak of orgasm, both frantic for release, Angel let Spike have the victory and came, splattering his cum over his chest and belly. Spike released himself deep into Angel's rectum, jettisoning his heavy load into Angel's strong body. He twitched with the intense power of the orgasm wracking through his body, lifting and lowering himself in long thrusts into the soaked tunnel. Angel enmeshed his fingers into the blond hair and grimaced in deep, confused delight as his anus twitched with pleasure at Spike's intrusion.
When Spike had wrung the last shiver of pleasure from his orgasm, he lay gently down on Angel's belly, rubbing himself in the pool of cum. Angel chuckled. 'You can let my leg go now.'
Spike let go, and it thudded to the floor. Angel reached over to the bed and pulled the cover over to them both and wrapped his arms around Spike's back. 'Feel better?'
Spike didn't reply for a while, which confused and slightly worried Angel. He knew he was being inconsistent, and the thought that he may have ruined his own long-term goal made his still-throbbing balls contract slightly with fear.
Spike finally lifted his head and said, 'But what about you, pet? This isn't what you wanted.'
Angel looked at him dumbfounded for a moment. Then he began to chuckle and ruffled his hand affectionately through Spike's hair. 'I sacrificed myself, Spike, for the greater good.'
Spike pouted, but he said, 'Pillock,' in an equally affectionate way and tucked his head back under Angel's arm. 'I think I'm beginning to think I don't want this… this, just fucking. Good then, yes?'
Angel continued to laugh, his belly shaking Spike slightly. 'Yes, that's really good, Spike. Maybe you won't want it even more in the morning, yes?'
They fell asleep to quiet laughter. Neither remembered waking in the night, nor tumbling into Spike's bed, but they were there in the morning, tightly enmeshed around each other.
Angel woke first and got up to hang another cover over the window where dangerous sunlight was filtering in through inadequate curtains. Spike groaned and moved an arm to the empty space, but Angel was back in it before his childe could wake fully. He pulled Spike to him tightly, and felt Spike's body relax once more. Angel did not fall back to sleep. The warring in his head was particularly bad this morning - Angelus chuckling with demonic glee at his soul's total inability to come up with a good excuse for what he had done last night. His body felt profoundly grateful for the release, for the orgasm, but his brain screamed at him for his weakness.
If he'd wanted to fuck Spike back to him, why not just attempt it in LA? Why bring him all this way on this fool's errand if all he was going to do was win him back with a well-placed penis?
Angel groaned as Angelus laughed and replayed the orgasm for him, replayed the penetration, and replayed the sound Spike made when he was inside him. Angelus turned over, completely relaxed and closer to the surface, nearer escape, than he had been for a long time. Angel drew on reserves of strength and pushed him away - until Spike lifted his leg back over his thigh and said in a sleepy voice, 'In.'
He bent down against Spike's ear. 'I can't. I'm sorry. I was wrong last night. Don't....' Spike continued to run his hand lightly down Angel's erection, guiding it inexorably to the hole he had conveniently stretched open and ready.
'Last night really helped me, mate; I'm feeling real sorted 'bout everything now.' Even he couldn't keep his voice serious, and Angel chuckled at the blatant manipulation - chuckled, and pushed in on his own laughter. They both groaned at the sensations: Angel at the tightness stimulating his cock, Spike at the feeling of fullness and the soft pressure on his prostate. Spike twisted his head around to look at Angel's face. He had his eyes shut with a look of intense concentration as he worked slowly in and out. Spike smiled. 'Make it last, Angel, like you used to,' and he settled back into a kind of early morning doze, knowing Angel could keep going for hours if he wanted.
There was only the two of them in Angel's mind. He banished Angelus, thoughts of LA, promises to Wesley, rationalisation and souls and doing right: there was just this bed and the two bodies in it, intimately connected. Long, slow strokes out, soft, tight thrusts in: he knew he could keep going for hours, too. He liked it when he felt an orgasm building, and he could slow down and will it away. He liked it even better when Spike groaned at the slowing, and he knew his childe's orgasm was being dragged away from him. Angel lifted Spike's thigh some more, in a lazy, easy position. It allowed him to run his hands up Spike's balls and cock, stretching them tight then releasing them. This made Spike groan even more, and Angel could feel the cool precum leaking out and wetting the tip of the Spike's hard erection. He sighed and slowed the action even more.
Angel dragged out the slow, intense fucking for hours. He knew what the outcome would be, and he longed for the moment. Eventually - his body able to take no more set backs or delays - an intense orgasm began to build that would not be denied. He rose up on his knees and pushed Spike's legs wide. He watched the unfocused blue eyes sharpen as Spike realised what he was about to do. Spike stretched up to hold onto the headboard... and shuddered with the sudden impact that racked his body.
Angel released the pent-up orgasm like a battering ram that had been held back on a tight spring. He battered into Spike, panting, heaving, and grunting like an animal. Spike watched with fascinated lust as Angel's eyes flickered amber and in dazed response, let his own demon face appear, but he could not tell if Angel saw him or not. He couldn't hold himself steady against the force of Angel's body and was shoved away at each violent thrust, frustrating them both. Eventually, Angel bent Spike's legs over so his feet buried into the pillow alongside his face and pounded down into the mattress through the thin layers of flesh and tissue surrounding him.
When the orgasm came, Angel bit through his lip in an effort to contain the scream of pleasure he wanted to release. The blood ran down his chin, only enhancing the amber in his eyes and the grimace of ecstasy-in-agony that suffused his face. Deep inside Spike's body, the cold cum pumped out and swilled around. Spike felt a hand on his erection, a hard, insistent, domineering, commanding pull, and he came, too: his cum caught in a large palm, splashing off and rubbed around his belly, as the jerking against his raised arse continued.
Angel hung his head and shook it like a dog shaking off water. When he looked up, his eyes were brown, but deeply troubled, as if the amber had left a residue he didn't want to face.
Spike gave him a weak, hesitant smile and reached out a hand. Angel took it gratefully and lay gently on his childe, as if the gentleness now could obliterate the earlier demonic fury. Spike ran his fingers through Angel's hair, pulling the silky, sweaty strands into peaks. He heard a quiet, 'Don't,' and looked down at the man on his chest.
'Cus I want it too much.'
Spike smiled. 'Remind me, Angel, if this soul thing hits me and I become like you, stake me, hey?'
Angel lifted his head; he looked strung out and desperate. 'You don't get do you? I-can't-lose-you.'
'I'm beginning to come round to that idea meself, mate; why you worried?'
Angel groaned. 'Two fucks and you're anyone's, don't you see that, Spike? This is not me you're wanting; it's just physical. You could have been fucking anyone then. It really didn't have to be me; you weren't even remembering it was me. Don't lie to me.'
'Am I supposed to understand that, Angel. Are you actually speaking English here, mate? Cus you ain't making a lot of sense.'
Angel sat up and crossed his legs. Spike shifted over to give him more room, and they looked at each other warily. 'Spike.'
'Yes. I'm listening.'
'I want you; you know that. But I've told you - I want it all… the whole package… the long term… the ….'
Angel gritted his teeth; Angelus was writhing furiously. 'Yes, the love.'
'And what we've done here in this bed....'
'And on the floor and 'gainst that wall; don't forget the wall...'
Angel tipped his head on one side, looked at Spike, and then smiled. 'Am I being pompous again? Angelus tells me I am.'
Spike suddenly looked wary. 'He talks to you?'
'He is me, but I kind of split him off like that, yeah.'
'Well, I'm not me inside and someone else outside. I'm all me.'
'That's what Angelus is thinking too.'
Spike grinned. 'Say hi for me, will you?'
'No. That's the last thing he needs.'
Spike put a hand on Angel's knee and stroked it thoughtfully. 'This has been good, Angel. Don't sweat it, hey? It's not gonna change anything. We'll make this journey; I'll learn what I have to learn, and we'll work us out… eventually.'
Angel caught hold of his hand. 'It could be like this all the time, Spike.'
Spike laughed delightedly. 'You argue like the devil, too, Angel.'
Angel nodded, but did not look up. 'Hey, broody, look at me.' Angel felt a hand on his face and allowed his chin to be tipped up. He felt a pair of cool lips and opened his in response. Spike kissed lightly then pulled away but did not let go of his hold around Angel's neck. 'You've gotta remember, luv; I've been closer to being human than you for a long time anyway. And don't forget, every day I stay with you, I get another hundred for me retirement fund, so I ain't gonna be rushing away, am I?'
Angel pulled back and unfolded his legs to wind them around the pale, sinewy body. 'Kiss me again.'
Spike smiled and did, and they both knew that there was nothing demonic in the soft touching of lips, of the opening and tasting, and the swells of desire coursing through their bodies. Finally, Angel pulled away and put a hand over Spike's swollen lips. 'Stop. I do this... I want to... and that would be for real, Spike. Me. You. And I can't bear to do that and lose you.'
Spike lay down, staring at the ceiling. 'I want to get this fucking trip over now, Angel. I want you, but you ain't gonna believe me until we've done whatever it is you think we're going to do here.'
'Don't say that, Spike; you can't mean it; you don't understand what want like that is like.'
Spike turned his head. 'You underestimate me, Angel. You always have.'
Angel climbed off the bed and went back to his own room and lay on the cool, fresh bed. He looked morosely out at the weak, autumn sunshine. 'It'll be dark by four. Be ready to go.'
Spike did not reply, and Angel was glad.
They arrived at the correct hotel just after eight that evening, having gotten badly lost trying to navigate the dark lanes once they'd left the motorway. They flung their bags into one corner, ripped open the small door to the fridge and found securely wrapped packages waiting for them. With a glance at each other, they opened them and did nothing else for a while but gorge on blood. They were starving; the need for blood making them both tetchy - not helped by the bad navigating.
Sated, Spike eased himself down on the bed and pulled up his tee shirt. His normally hard, flat belly was slightly convex, and he laughed and made it wobble. Angel smiled. 'Remind me to thank Wesley.'
Spike nodded and stretched out. Angel looked at him. 'Don't get comfortable. We're going out again.'
'I don't want to.'
'Yes. I'm not dragging this out any longer, Spike. We should have been here yesterday. Well, we're here now. Get up.'
Reluctantly, Spike got to his feet and fetched his duster. 'It's raining.'
'And you are a vampire still?'
'I'm a Sunnydale vampire these days; I don't like cold rain.'
Angel didn't reply that he hated it, too; he didn't want any more excuses not to do what they had to. They got back in the car, and Angel drove; ten minutes, and they were there. The churchyard was muddy and overgrown with nettles. They parked and stood by the gate looking in.
'It's very dark.'
Angel laughed. 'No street lighting. Just like the old days. Atmospheric.'
'Yeah, speak for yourself. It's too creepy.'
'Spike. We are vampires. I think if anything is creepy, it's us, no?'
'Come on.' Angel opened the gate and made his way unerringly over to the small gravestone.
Spike stood and watched him then jogged to catch up. 'Hey. What's going on here? How did you know where she was?'
Angel didn't reply but knelt on the wet grass. The rain was falling steadily now, and the wet saturated his clothes, clinging to his hair like tendrils of a spider's web. Spike stood and looked down at him, the rain running off his duster and drumming slightly on the leather. Angel looked up. 'The house was over there, Spike; look, where those lights are now. Maybe it's the same; maybe if we went there we'd find the room where we took her.'
Spike shook his head and stepped back a little. Angel persisted. 'Do you remember? She was completely mad by then. She begged me to take her, thinking I was a lover.'
Spike backed away more, but Angel's hand shot out and caught at the hem of his coat, forcing him to kneel or have it ripped off. 'Don't Angel. I remember everything, I don't need you to...'
'No, Spike, that's just it; you don't.'
'W-what do you mean?' He cursed his hesitation and repeated more confidently. 'What?'
'Think, Spike, think.'
'I came in, and you were both in the bed. You'd gagged her.'
Angel nodded and wondered if Spike could have any idea just how painful this was for him, too. 'You'd h-had her. She was....'
'What, Spike? Tell me.'
'I've thought about that night a hundred thousand times, Angel, but never seen it. It's like it's playing out in my head now; I can feel it again.'
'I know. I know. And I'm so sorry, Spike.'
The rain suddenly got heavier, and Spike looked up at the lowering clouds, his face streaming with the downpour. 'You raped her, Angel. You raped my mother.'
'Yes, I did.'
'And then I did.'
Spike put his face into the wet earth, and Angel put a hand on the dark, wet, blond strands. 'I'm sorry.'
'We fed off her for hours.'
'We drew it out.'
'I held her down.'
'I made it hurt - so you had to.'
'She couldn't breathe against the gag.'
'You loosened it, so she wouldn't die too soon.'
'She spoke to me.'
'You'd stayed in your human face most of the time, to torment her.'
'She asked for death.'
Angel paused. 'And you refused her.'
Spike jerked up, his face awash with the mud of his mother's grave. 'What! What do you mean?'
'Think, Spike.' Angel put a hand to his own face, shadowing his eyes slightly. It wouldn't help for Spike to see the pain there.
'No. Oh God. I....'
'I'd left you with her. I went to kill the rest of the household.'
'I came back.'
'You'd turned her, Spike.'
Spike wrenched Angel's hand away so he could look into his eyes. 'Why? Why didn't I remember that? I fed her my blood cus she'd asked to die, and I wanted to .... '
'Punish her for eternity?'
Spike nodded. 'Oh. Fuck.' He began to cry, great wracking sobs that tore at Angel more than his own tears could ever do.
Between the sobs, Spike managed to pant out in a low voice. 'What ... I mean; I don't remember….'
'You'd done it badly, Spike. You were too young, and she didn't have enough to rise… properly.'
'Oh, fuck, no, no, no.'
'I came here ... some nights later... and dug down to her. She'd been trying to rise, but couldn't. I staked her.' His simple recitation of these facts hid from Spike the true horror of what he had found in that small grave.
Spike rubbed his hands over his eyes, only effectively coating the few remaining places of his face that had escaped the thick Devon mud. 'Oh, God. A demon. I tried to make her like me. Like me.' He got up, suddenly, and screamed down at Angel. 'I'm a demon. You made me like this! Did you want to punish me for eternity, too? Fuck Angel! What have you done to me? I'm damned! I shouldn't be here. This is a resting place for the godly. And I'll never be here. Fuck. Let me go!'
Angel stood and held his arms, trying to explain the different needs he'd had for his eternity, but Spike wouldn't listen. He flailed around in the Angel's arms and eventually landed a clean uppercut to his jaw, knocking him back to the ground.
He stood over Angel, still rubbing ineffectually at his face, as if that cleaning would clean other things that felt dirty. 'She's not in heaven, is she? I... oh, God. I denied her that, and she's been in hell all this time. I loved her! Real love, Angel. Not the demon shit I ever felt for you or the fuck-me-lust for the Bitch. I LOVED HER. But you'll never know love like that cus you're a stinking demon, Angel, like me! You made me: well look good on what you made, cus it ain't much to be proud of, is it? ' He stumbled away and got into the car.
Angel was glad he had the keys or he had the distinct impression that Spike would have driven away and left him in the dark emptiness of the churchyard.
He climbed into the driver's seat and sat staring out at the rain. Spike did not speak, and he continued to wipe ineffectually at his face. Angel put a hand on Spike's leg but stilled, as an icy voice said. 'Don't ever touch me again, Angel.'
'What?' Angel surprised himself by how calm he managed to remain, despite the temptation to let Angelus out to sort this new problem.
'You're a demon; I won't be touched by you.'
Angel decided not to argue this latest twist. He'd brought Spike to the memories he wanted him to face, now he had to assimilate them in his own time and in his own way. He removed his hand but turned to him. 'We'll collect our bags, feed again, and then I'm taking you home - tonight.'
Spike flinched slightly at something, but nodded.
Angel packed for both of them. Spike seemed unable to do anything but sit on the bed. Angel brought a washcloth and tried to clean Spike's face - it was snatched from him, as if contact with his skin would burn. When everything was ready, he took the remaining blood and said, 'We can't leave this, so what you can't drink, pour away.'
Spike looked at the bag and recoiled slightly. 'I'm not hungry.'
'Spike! We have almost twenty-four hours before we'll be back in the Hyperion. You have to drink - or you'll get all ratty again and shout at my map reading.'
The attempt at humour failed miserably. Spike just took his luggage, looked briefly at Angel's, took that as well, and went down the stairs to the car. Now Angel was really worried: the blood he could have passed over - but Spike carrying the bags? Something was badly wrong.