Spike trailed after Wesley, stunned by the overturn of all his expectations of this watcher. This was a man: he gave definition to red-blooded, and that blood sang to Spike. He reeked of power and pain.

Fully aware that he was being followed, just not caring, Wesley went into a crowded, noisy bar. He squeezed onto a stool and ordered a glass and a bottle of whisky. Spike squeezed in next to him, unhappy in the mass of potentially aggressive humans.

He waited, as Wesley took what was clearly not his first drink of the night. He watched the second go down. Only on the third did he say, `I know you're dying to ask me why I'm here.'

Wesley roused - as if he had genuinely forgotten Spike's presence. `I'm not even registering that you are here; so that is hardly likely.'

`So, you ain't curious at all, `bout Angel and the brat?'

`Who's Angel?'

`Uh huh. Well, what about Cordelia then? Seems I remember you were partial to that particular bit of perfect flesh.'

`You speak of old history, Spike.'

`Come on, Watcher; lighten up. Offer me a drink at least.'

The eyes Wesley turned on Spike burnt into him, but he pushed the bottle over and summoned another.

`That's better. Now we can have that little chat about Angel.'

Wesley got up and walked away. He climbed up to the balcony and leant on the rail, watching the throng. Spike followed and stood a little way behind, watching him.

A young woman eased her way up to Wesley, angling for a drink and some company. Wesley turned to her, and the words he spoke - unheard by Spike over the noise - made her back away, flushing. That's when Spike saw it for the first time. Ragged, livid - a scar for a lifetime: it throbbed its pain at Spike.

The crowd got worse and he began to be jostled. He was pushed towards Wesley and found himself squeezed against him, pressing the human into the rail. The watcher's body was incredibly tense, like a steel coil waiting to unwind, but even at this too intimate contact, he did not acknowledge Spike's presence. So Spike blew lightly on the scar. That roused him. He turned to Spike, killing fury in his eyes. He tried to push his tormentor away. Spike resisted as easily as if a child shoved him. Wesley pushed some more, his eyes widening in surprise at Spike's immovable body. In desperation to be left alone with his pain, he punched Spike in the belly - an almost tentative blow - Spike merely raised an eyebrow at him, caught at the fist and held it still. They were jostled again by the drinking crowd - Spike back into the rail, Wesley against Spike. Their bodies rubbed together; Spike heard a groan, thought it was his, realised it was human. He thrust his hips forward slightly, hard meeting hard. Wesley grasped hold of Spike's hand and, in the struggle to be free from the vampire, accidentally bent a finger back towards the wrist. Spike winced at the pain, gasped, hissed, moaned - and pushed his hips forward some more.

Wesley tried to pull away, but the lure of Spike's reaction to the pain seemed to hold him transfixed. He stared at Spike, and Spike wondered if the watcher was thinking of another vampire and another kind of pain - one he wished he had not caused, but could not now take back. Wesley took another of Spike's fingers and, as if in a trance, bent it back, too. Spike groaned his arousal once more, and at the realisation he was giving a vampire pleasure from pain, Wesley finally began to reanimate.

He groaned and pushed his groin into Spike. He dislocated another finger, rubbing into Spike's pain, trying to feel it. Abruptly he broke away and pushed out of the bar. He did not look back. Spike followed the trail of pungent male arousal. He walked a few feet behind along the quiet streets. He snapped his fingers back as he walked, flexing them and massaging them distractedly.

He didn't know why he was following the dangerous, confused human: maybe that was why - because he was dangerous. Spike had felt intimate sexual pain with this human, and that made him hot with desire.

He knew what the watcher wanted, even if this confused human didn't know it himself. Relief through pain was something of his trademark, and he was more than willing to explore it with the surprisingly dark human.

Wesley kicked open the door to his apartment and went through, leaving it wide. After a few paces, he said hoarsely, without turning around, `In.'

Spike stepped over the threshold and shut the door behind him. The second blow to his belly was much, much harder and not at all tentative. He doubled over and fell to one knee, and Wesley's knee slammed into his face. The human was sweating and panting: his confusion and pain making him almost maniacal. His eyes were dilated, his flesh hot - his body's tension uncoiling at last to Spike's pain.

Spike was sprawled on his back, and Wesley flung himself down. He ripped at Spike's shirt; he didn't even bother with undressing his victim: as soon as a small, exposed `v' of Spike's chest appeared, he increased his cold, purposeful actions. He took his dark, angry shaft out and worked himself over Spike, one knee on the hard chest, aiming at the face. Spike reached up to the watcher's face, but his hand was grasped and his fingers once more bent unnaturally back. As if this was the final pain the human needed, a hard bullet of cum shot into Spike's face. Spike turned, and the rest of the load erupted over his cheek and hair.

Wesley finished, grunted, put himself away, and stood up. He poured a drink, turned on the television and slumped in a chair, not watching it.

Spike wiped at the cum on his face and did up his shirt. He sat up and looked at the watcher for a while. `Feel better?'

`Fuck off, Spike. Shut the door on your way out.'

`Mind if I clean up a bit first? I imagine Angel'll recognise the smell of your cum, and it is his shirt an' all.' He watched the watcher carefully - no response. Wesley continued to stare blankly at the flickering screen. Spike went into the bathroom and washed his face and hair as best he could. He glanced around. The place was filthy and neglected: old towels were abandoned sodden on the floor; sweat stained clothes were dropped on every surface. He wandered into the bedroom. The place smelt like places he'd tortured humans in: pain stained the air. He shivered slightly but, as he turned to leave, found Wesley blocking his way. A trickle of fear ran down his spine. That was good: he'd stayed alive for nearly two hundred eyes precisely because he did know when to feel fear. What was not so good was his total inability to do anything about that fear now. As he had no way to protect himself physically, he attempted to reason with Wesley.

`Angel misses you.'

Wesley advanced; his face was devoid of expression. Spike had seen more cheerful zombies. `Okay, then, Angel's glad you're gone?'

Still no response.

Spike backed away, judging how much distance he had left.

The blow caught him slightly unprepared: he hadn't expected it to be so hard, or so accurately placed on his eye. He howled in exaggerated agony, and fell to his knees, holding up his arm to ward off another blow. `Wesley! Come on, mate, talk to me, hey? They all miss you, honest they do; you should have seen the prom queen's face when I asked where you were.' Wesley twisted Spike's uplifted arm behind his back, forcing him to his feet. He continued to twist it up, and Spike knew it was about to dislocate.

`The little `un, mate - the scraggy one with all the `air - she was crying `bout you.' The hold on his arm slackened slightly, and he pressed his advantage. `Yeah, Fred, she was all shook up and wanting to talk to me `bout you, but the fucker wouldn't let `er, an' they all hate the brat...' He pulled away and faced Wesley. `Look, the wanker did this to me...' he tugged his shirt out of his jeans.

Later that night, Spike wondered if the gash that was still livid on his belly had reminded Wesley of his own slashed neck, for he suddenly looked even more confused, and sat on the bed, heavily. Spike, circling his arm, sat down next to him.

`I want you to go.'

`No you don't.'

Wesley turned to him, his eyes drilling into Spike. `Why are you here? What do you want?' Spike never got a chance to answer: Wesley grabbed him and savaged his lips with a kiss. Surprised, Spike pulled away.

`What the fuck's that for? Thought you'd had `nough of me tonight.'

Wesley turned and pushed Spike back onto the bed, straddling him. `I don't want you.' He unbuttoned Spike's shirt, nevertheless. When he had exposed the smooth chest, he ran his hands lightly over it, resting them over Spike's nipples as if. confused for a moment. He shook the moment off and unfastened the jeans.

Spike put a hand out to still the human. A wank over his face was one thing; he had a feeling this was going to get a lot more serious.

`I don't want this, watcher.'

`Did you speak?'

Unable to protest too much, Spike decided to await developments. He had not missed the confused pause over his flat chest and wondered how much more confusion the human's dark mood would enable him to overcome. Wesley moved down slightly so he could peel off Spike's jeans then, when the vampire was naked, he sat back on the pale thighs looking him over silently.

`Wesley...' Spike's other eye received a vicious blow. `Fuck, watcher! Ugh.'

Spike shut up, for Wesley took his sac in one hand and began to twist.

Wesley resumed his slow appraisal of the body. He shuffled down, kneeling between Spike's legs and bent them up. He looked at Spike's puckered entrance and wrinkled his brow a little. He took his cock in one hand and began to work it to hardness. Spike slid away slightly on the bed but, again, a hand on his sac stilled him.

The twist was more vicious this time, and he cried out in genuine pain. Wesley swelled quite quickly after that cry, and he twisted again, clearly pleased. Spike realised things had now taken the serious turn he had been trying to avoid.

When Wesley began to press the tip of his penis to his cool flesh, Spike tried once more to break through the barriers. `Wes!'

Wesley did not look at him, but he did still his movements. `If you're gonna do that, you need something to lubricate, mate. I ain't all slippery, and no way're you gonna be able to thrust hard enough to make me bleed. so use something, hey?'

As if in a trance, Wesley reached out to his nightstand. Spike closed his eyes, grateful for small mercies, but screeched and opened them in shocked outrage when Wesley scratched a pair of nail scissors across his inner thigh.

A tiny dribble of blood speckled the watcher's fingers; he withdrew his hand, staring at it in fascination, and then wiped the blood over Spike's hole. Spike had had enough and scrambled off the bed, twisted back to grab his clothes and found himself propelled into a wall, Wesley fighting to find his mouth once more.

Wesley opened his mouth over Spike's and worked until he could push his tongue in. With his other hand, he reached around and found Spike's blood-flecked hole. `Don't fight me, vampire; you want this as much as I need it.'

`Fuck you, watcher; I ain't got any choice in this. This is rape, you know.'

Wesley paused, tipped his head back and looked at Spike. His eyes held the tiniest spark of humanity, and Spike gritted his teeth.

`You want this. You've practically lain down and begged for it.'

`No, I've lain down and taken it, cus there's not much else I can do.'

`What do you mean?'

Spike paused and regarded the human incredulously. Wesley removed his finger from Spike's ass. He stepped back a little, animation visibly returning to his features.

`Me chip, mate!'

`Your what?'

`Wesley! I'm chipped - I mean, I have a chip in my head now; I can't hurt humans; can't even give you a bleedin' wedgie!'

`What do you. Why didn't I know this?'

`I don't bleedin' know! Why didn't you? Shit, I thought you did! Fuck... did you think I wanted to be wanked over? Did you think I wasn't fighting back cus I wanted that?'

`Fuck, Spike, yes! Why did you come back here? Why did you come in?'

`Cus I wanted you!'

`Wanted me!'

`Duh... yeah! Jesus, mate, don't you know how sexy you are? Fuck... were... `til you used those fucking things on me!'

Wesley muttered. `What have I done?'

Once more, Spike followed him to the bed. They sat side-by-side. Wesley bent and put his face in his hands: it seemed as if some final straw had broken him entirely. This was not good: Spike had not come here to find a broken, useless human - he needed a watcher. He put his hand to Wesley's back and began small, unfamiliar circles of comfort. Wesley began to rock himself back and forth.

`I didn't mean it.'

Spike felt the despairing human was not referring to anything that had happened between them that evening.

`Tell me?' He scrambled back a bit so he could reach the top of the covers and pulled them down to cover his nakedness. He sat crossed legged behind Wesley and waited.

After a long, long silence, Wesley said quietly from his hands, `I thought Angel would kill the child and ... he is precious, Spike. He has been sent to save the world.'

`Fucking funny, mate. No way.' Wesley turned to him.

`I know; it hardly seems possible, but all the prophecies say so.'

`Bloody hell, wish I weren't immortal sometimes; I really don't wanna be around when that brat ascends to the right hand. Can you imagine him? "That's my right hand; don't you come on here".' Spike did a fairly accurate impression of teenage spite, and Wesley smiled despite his misery.

`Angel was going to kill him; I took him to save him.'

`But you took him to a hell dimension, Wesley - bit dumb, weren't it? Couldn't you have left him with some little ole lady somewhere?'

`No!' Wesley looked shocked. `He was taken from me ... that's when this happened.' He put a hand to his scar briefly.

Spike looked confused. `You took him to save him. but he was taken from you. and you were nearly killed defending him?'

Wesley looked down. `Essentially, yes.'

`Okay. then I'm flummoxed. Why is Angel all pretend "I'll fucking kill Wesley" then? Seems to me you did a good thing.'

Wesley eyes watered, and he blinked a few times. `Angel didn't see it that way. And he actually did try to kill me.'

`Nah, you're imagining things, pet. He might think it...'

`In the hospital, Spike. he suffocated me. Tried to. Would have... if the alarm hadn't have gone off.'

Spike was silent, and a certain conversation with Connor about mothers trickled into his mind. He looked down glumly. `You ain't got a spare room, I suppose? Think I may have outstayed me welcome with soulboy then.'

Wesley smiled faintly. `Seems we both have.'

Spike looked up. `So, what's with the first time try-out of the homoerotica then, pet?'

Wesley flinched. `How did you know?'

Spike grinned but didn't reply directly. `What did you think?'

Wesley pursed his lips, thoughtfully. `I didn't really have time to analyse it... if you know what I mean.'

Spike inspected him through lowered eyes. `So. how's about we take it in slow time now, and I take you through all the highlights?'

Wesley glanced down at the scissors lying innocently on the floor and then at Spike's swelling eye in disbelief. `After what I did?'

Spike leaned closer and ran a finger over the prominent stubble. `Mate, I've smashed down a building as foreplay; one little scratch with a sharp instrument'll only get me all excited - know what I mean?'

He guided the stubble to him and placed his lips softly onto Wesley's, licking slightly. Wesley responded by opening his mouth. Pleased, Spike pulled away again. `So. tell me why.'

Wesley looked down. `Because there is no one else, and I need someone.'

`Nope, wrong answer.'

`Because... ` Wesley faltered and looked up, saw no judgement in Spike's eyes so, with a deep breath, continued, `Because it was never enough in the past, and I need more now.'

Spike put a hand on his thigh. `Shall I give you more?'

Wesley nodded.

`Shall I take some of the pain away?'

Another nod.

Spike paused. `Will you take mine away?'

Wesley looked up sharply. `Yours?'

`You're not the only one he's gotten tired of, Wesley, and he's been mine for three lifetimes.' Wesley now took Spike's face in his hand and rubbed the sharp cheekbone with his thumb.

`You're all bruised.'

`Comes with the job, luv.' Wesley nodded. He ran his hands over the livid cut on Spike's belly. `He did this? The boy?' Spike nodded and looked down at the hand. He looked up, caught Wesley's eye, and moved the hand down under the sheet.

They both groaned simultaneously and, at this, grinned at each other, pleased. The atmosphere shifted subtly with this mutual acknowledgement of pleasure. Wesley peeled the sheet away and looked for a while at what his hand was enjoying. He stood then and peeled of his pants and his shirt. As he was about to drop the shirt to the floor, he suddenly sniffed it and grimaced. `Good grief.'

Spike laughed, `Yeah, didn't like to say, mate.'

`I need a shower.'

`Think I might, too, then.'

Wesley laughed at that and turned towards the bathroom, but hesitated for a moment. `Don't watch my bottom, please; it's still too disturbing.' Spike caught him up and slapped him on it instead.

Wesley looked around his bathroom in dismay. `Oh dear, who's been here?'

Spike kicked the worst of the mess to one side and stepped over the rim of the bath, turning on the water. `Come on, you sad fuck. I ain't gonna clean yer clothes, but I'll clean what they go on.'

Wesley stepped under the water with him. `This feels extremely odd.'

`Come on, mate. You went to public school: this must be old ground for you.'

`Err... everyone was a little smaller then, Spike.'

`Can't help being well hung, pet.'

Wesley laughed, looking down. `I wasn't referring to... oh.'

`Fancy highlight number one then?'

`No, but I suspect I'm rather committed now.'

`Kneel down. That's it.' Spike put his hands to Wesley's dark hair, burying his fingers into the thickness. `See how it's standing up for you, human? You've gotta... fuck.' His lesson was cut abruptly short when Wesley licked up from the root to the tip. `Fucking hell, watcher, do that again! I've never had a bloke's hot tongue do that.'

Wesley, pleased with this encouragement, did it again.

Pleased with the effect of his untruthful, but necessary encouragement, Spike smiled fondly down at the kneeling man. `Now, hold it here, see, tight around the root. There, ya got it. Just imagine it's yours, pet, and do with it what you'd like. That's the beauty of all this; that's why it's so good - it's all what we want, what we know we like.'

Wesley took Spike's sac into his mouth. `OH! Jesus! I didn't mean... but fuck, don't stop! Spike's desperate moaning flared a response in Wesley. He swirled and rotated Spike's balls, pressing his tongue into the smooth skin to separate them, and then crushing them together with his lips. Wesley tried to recall how many times he had enjoyed this with his own hand, pleasuring himself for hours. To do this for another man though - it was incredible.

What else did he enjoy? Wesley let the sac fall from his mouth and took in the tip of Spike's penis instead. Both uncut, this penis was as familiar as his own, but now he could slip a tongue in and seek the small drops of fluid he knew would be there. Now he could use his teeth.

Spike looked down at the dark hair streaming with water. When Wesley pushed his tongue under his foreskin and swirled it over his cool knob, Spike had to brace himself on the walls. His knees started to buckle at the intense pleasure washing up from his throbbing balls. He so wanted to come, so wanted to be needed. He ached to have someone call him by his name and take his cum. He felt an orgasm building. but held Wesley's head still. The human looked up questioningly, so Spike shook his head fractionally. `Too soon.' He pulled Wesley to his feet and smiled. `Sorry, but it's been a long time. I'll come too soon.'

`Oh. How long?'

Spike thought. ``Few hours I'd say.'

Wesley spluttered. `Hours!'

Spike twitched up his lips. `How long for you, mate?'

Well other than...' he indicated in the direction of the living room, clearly too embarrassed to speak of what he had done there. `With someone, err... a few years.'

Spike frowned. `You are joking, right?'

Wesley leant in a little closer and tentatively tested his lips against Spike's. `It feels like it now, anyway.'

They kissed properly for the first time. Spike wrapped both hands around the back of Wesley's head, pulling him out of the stream of hot water. He leant back against the wall, and Wesley leaned onto the cool body, melting into the intense, intimate kiss. They both closed their eyes automatically, so they could enjoy each sensation quietly and in their own heads. It was superb: Spike could taste the whiskey and the need; Wesley could cold strength and power. They continued to open their mouths wider and wider. Wesley's leg automatically came up over Spike, rubbing their erections together, as mutual orgasms began to build. He pushed in harder and dominated Spike's mouth with his tongue. He rubbed his stubble against Spike and did it again when Spike moaned. Spike's fingers tightened in Wesley's hair; Wesley meshed his into Spike's; they were get even closer now. Wesley felt his lips start to bleed from the pressure and the tearing at Spike's mouth.

When he tasted the fresh, urgent, hot, human blood; Spike came. He erupted violently against Wesley, his cum coating the human's curly hair, slicking between their hard bellies. Wave after wave of heavy, thick fluid shot against Wesley. Spike's desperation in the kiss intensified as he sucked Wesley's lip, drawing out the precious fluid, desperate to swallow some more. Wesley clashed his tongue against Spike's teeth and made that bleed, too and, as the last shots of cum drenched him, Wesley fed his soft, warm, seeping tongue down Spike's throat. He did not pull away when he felt the penis twitching against him soften, but only worked the graze more and licked his blood over the walls of Spike's mouth.

They only roused and broke from the kiss when the water ran cold and Wesley began to shiver.

Spike turned away and hung his head slightly. `Fuck.'

Wesley put a hand to his chin and turned him. `Was that... okay?'

Spike tipped his head back as if pondering something on the ceiling. `You missed your calling, mate; just who was teaching who there?'

Pleased, Wesley stepped out of the bath and looked at himself in the mirror. `I need a shave.' Spike sat on the rim of the tub, watching, as Wesley slowly and carefully scrapped away some of his pain. His lips were swelling badly now and rather gave him the look of a model who had just had collagen implants. When he was finished, he turned from one side to the other, regarding his face and his neck. `I like the look. What do you think? Scarred but sexy?'

Spike laughed. `I told you, you were sexy.'

Wesley turned. `Yes, you did, didn't you? You are the first person who's ever said that to me.'

`Thousands of people've said it to me.'

Wesley huffed. `In your dreams, Spike.'

Spike gave him a disingenuous look. `No, seriously, pet - just before I killed `em - I made `em say it. `S fun.'

Wesley gave Spike a double take and shivered slightly. `You know how to ruin a mood, vampire.'

Spike twitched up an eyebrow and slowly and provocatively cast his eyes down Wesley's body. `I wouldn't say yours was ruined, Wes.'

The erection bouncing against the sink rather illustrated Spike's point.

Spike eased to his feet and slid up to the freshly shaven face, licking up one side and teasing the swollen lips for a moment. `So. watcher. have you thought through this little experiment of yours?'

Wesley kissed back. `What do you mean, Spike?'

`Well, you got any preferences? You want to take it, or give it, or...' he twitched up one eyebrow suggestively `try both? An' that's the option I'd recommend. From experience, like.'

Wesley laughed, shocked at the blatant laying out of his choices. `I have absolutely no idea.'

Spike grabbed his hand and started to pull him back to the bed. `Come on, let's play around for a bit and see what happens, hey?'

Wesley let himself be played with. Not only had he swapped female for male, he had swapped reticent and well brought up for... this... this whirlwind of sex. Spike was everywhere. He licked; he sucked; he fondled - he brought Wesley to heights of pleasure, only to crash him down again with withdrawal and absence. Not being able to find any good products in the bedroom or bathroom, Spike had resorted to olive oil and had poured it cascading over Wesley naked, wet body. It had formed droplets of oily slick on the soft human skin.

Clean and sweet-smelling, Wesley's body was irresistible to Spike. He didn't know where to start. but the nipples seemed a good place. He flicked the tiny pebbles until they rose and flushed. He squeezed them, watching Wesley's face closely for that barrier of pain he could not cross. Wesley arched his chest into Spike hands, and Spike tweaked the nipples once more before plunging his mouth onto them. Wesley had never had his nipples played with: no one had ever even considered them before. Spike's pinching fingers and willing mouth took him outside of his pain, and he had not expected this. He felt his orgasm rising. until a firm, cool hand clamped down on him, and Spike's warning look made him hold it in.

As if rewarding him, Spike moved down Wesley's belly slightly, stroking his soft chest hair and playing his fingers through it. He reached the belly button - again, something Wesley had never given much consideration to and hadn't realised was connected to the tip of his cock. The probing in the soft indentation made him swell more, and Spike's hand became an agony of anticipation. Spike wriggled his tongue in, lapping at him and making small noises of pleasure. Wesley folded his arms under his head and was beginning to relax to the sensation, when his legs were bent up, and the tongue transferred to somewhere more intimate.

All these firsts. but this was the most shocking: a tongue was inside him; a tongue was probing him. Wesley sat up abruptly, as Spike's tongue found his prostate gland. He pulled Spike's head away - dazed eyes, looking into dazed eyes. `What...'

Spike immediately pushed his finger in, sliding on the slippery oil and found the spot once more. He let his finger reply for him. Wesley moaned and pulled Spike to him, so he could bury his face into the shoulder for privacy. He wanted to smell skin and taste skin as he was given this pleasure. Spike was finding it difficult to maintain his fist on the human's root, so let him go and let him have his orgasm. He worked his finger gently and sensuously over the tiny gland, swirling around the hot walls. He watched as Wesley's hands went to his cock and knew what the watcher was experiencing: an assisted orgasm... sensations he'd never experienced... a finger inside him... the overwhelming need to cum. He'd been there, felt that, and knew that it was good. Surprised, Spike felt the watcher pull away and stop the slow pulling on his warm shaft. Wesley's eyes were glazed over with pleasure, his voice very low. `More, Spike, I want...' He looked directly at Spike. `I want more inside me.'

Spike groaned and buried his face against Wesley's chest for a moment, the pleasure of being wanted overwhelming him, but he sat up with a sad expression. `I don't know that I can, mate, me chip an' all... a finger's one thing, but... you'd stretch an'...' Wesley grasped his face with both hands, hard.

`Spike! I've known nothing but pain for weeks. That will be pleasure. I want it; how can it hurt me?'

*****
Part 3:

Spike didn't hesitate. He dragged Wesley over onto his hands and knees and pushed his legs wide, heaving him up by his belly so his entrance was at maximum stretch, opened slightly, and the cheeks flat. He knelt up to the hole and offered it his penis, pouring oil over the thick shaft. Wesley suddenly put his hands around. Spike thought, for one awful moment, that he was going to be stopped, but the human only took his cheeks in his hands and pulled them apart more for the vampire's penetration. Spike slid in on a moan of deep, unguarded pleasure. Human ass - hot, slippery, soft, delicate - he began to move. He'd never been gentle with a lover before, his partners either victims about to die or the undead like himself. Or her. She was unique and gentleness had not been a feature of their relationship. This was new for him and, in its newness, exquisite. He worked slowly in and out, letting the ring of muscle stretch to accommodate him. When it had and he could see it tight but not damaged around him, he experimented with gentle side-to-side motions and deep, tight penetration. He could only get about five inches in, and the root of this cock stuck out. He hesitated, but then said quietly, `Try pushing me out, luv.'

`What?'

`You know... do the human thing, and push down hard.'

`I'm not bloody pregnant.'

They both laughed at the essential ludicrous of their position, and a very strong sense of furtiveness and illicitness at what they were doing hit them both. They felt liberated, naughty - as if about to be caught out in an immoral, dirty act. Spike said, `Oh, yeah,' as he thought about penetrating a watcher. Wesley only moaned as he realised a vampire was fucking him, but he pushed - hard - and barked with a harsh sexual pleasure, as Spike gained three inches. He pushed again, all his belly muscles straining, as he shoved his whole backside hard against Spike's groin, pulling himself open with his hands as hard as he could... and felt a slight tear. It was delicious. It made his backside throb slightly, and he sucked his breath in at the feeling. Now Spike filled him totally.

The blood glistened on Spike's shaft each time he pulled out. It mixed with the oil and swirled around him. He put a finger down and played lightly around Wesley's hole for him, pressing it, tickling the perineum. They both laughed again, as Wesley put his head down into the mattress groaning.

Spike felt cheeky and repeated his earlier question. `Feel better?'

`Fuck off, Spike. Through the backdoor this time.'

This sent them both in paroxysms of laughter, so much so that Spike pulled out and sat back on his heels. He stilled momentarily, enjoying the sight of Wesley's hole closing over, the blood still seeping out. Wesley cursed and glared back at him from the mattress. `Err...'

`Don't worry, pet. Best bit's yet to come.' He proved his point by re-entering Wesley's slick, stretched hole without so much need for gentleness and knowing he could embed to his root. Wesley arched back, and Spike caught hold of his hair in one hand, twisting it around his fingers. He leant back slightly, fixed the image of their bodies in his mind, then closed his eyes and plummeted down into his orgasm. He rode Wesley, straining his neck back, pulling on his hair, thrusting into him. Wesley only responded to the increase in tempo by taking his hands off his backside and placing them on Spike's hips, digging his nails in, drawing blood. Spike knew he had not found Wesley's soft spot for him again and opened his eyes to concentrate on his shaft going in just right. He found it. Wesley screamed: a low feral scream of a man laid bare. His hands jerked away; they flew to his cock, and Spike watched the human's elbows working, as he urgently pumped his own release. He increased the power of his thrusting now he had found his aim. He kept his eyes open, fascinated by the sight of the human's ring stretched so far, so tight around him. He felt his foreskin rubbing over his tip as he pulled back, felt it rubbing deliciously over the spongy flesh on pull back. Then his balls began to swell. He grunted out, `Soon, I'm gonna come soon...'

He felt Wesley's jerking hands speed up, felt him start to shudder - a deep shaking that registered through the walls of his ass. Spike gasped, as his penis shared Wesley's orgasm. He smelt the cum emptying uselessly into the mattress, revelled in Wesley's high-pitched scream of relief and release, and then knew no more except himself - his own body and the tidal wave that hit him. His sac shivered as its balls contracted; his shaft twitched, and he went rigid on Wesley's ass; he jerked slightly, felt it coming, concentrated on the image in his mind of this act and felt the deep, deep release of an intense orgasm. Minutes seemed to pass as he emptied. The room was loud with a sound he couldn't place, a smell he could and which drove him on. His cock was hot, heated by the watcher's tight walls leaking their heat into him. He could still conjure the taste of the watcher in his mouth, his blood rich with his untapped passion... and still the cum spurted from him. Wesley's bed was soaked in cum, the human pool already seeping in, Spike's spilling out of the tight hole and dripping down to pool at his knees. One last jerk, and he stopped.

Unable to move, Wesley lay crushed into the mattress, every part of his body throbbing and alive. Every corner of his brain was consumed by the sex; there was no space at all in that blissful moment for the pain and the fear that had eaten him for so long. He felt blessed, and a deep sense of gratitude washed over him. He turned slowly, groaning, as the small of his back began to protest the unnatural pounding and odd position it had been subjected to. He felt Spike slip out and groaned once more. Spike collapsed onto his face along side him, giving proof to the rumour that he was dead. Wesley heard a muffled `Fuck' from underneath.

He laughed and repeated with amusement, `Not right now.'

Spike turned his face and stuck his tongue out. They were both extremely pleased with themselves and felt oddly that they'd scored points over someone or something they did not like to name. Spike pursed his lips and put a friendly hand on Wesley's, just playing with his fingers absentmindedly.

`'S good. I enjoyed that.'

`So did I. I still am.'

`Yeah. Guess I can stay the night then?'

`Why are you reluctant to get back, Spike? That's twice you've asked to stay.'

Spike fidgeted and winced slightly at the memory of an angry, raised voice behind a closed door. `Yeah, I kind of told Connor who his mum was.'

`Angel's sire? He knew that; I am sure.'

`Maybe, put like that, but sire and mother don't really...'

`You called Darla Angel's mother?'

`Er... yeah.' Spike was surprised when Wesley laughed.

`I think you'd better consider buying a passport, Spike.'

Spike sat up. `You think it's that bad?'

`Spike, he tried to kill me.'

`Yeah, but you stole the sweet, innocent baby and took him to hell.'

Wesley waited for the pain. He waited for the unbearable guilt to wash over him, but with Spike's teasing, mocking tone, he felt some of the pain dissipate. He was finally talking about it and to someone he knew would understand the true meaning of betraying Angel.

`Why are you here... I mean in LA, anyway, Spike? Shouldn't you be back in Sunnydale, helping to save the world?'

`Nah, world's too shitty. Decided to look me ole sire up.'

`And you didn't know about Connor?'

`No. I didn't. Angel didn't see fit to inform me of that little fact.'

Wesley sat up, too, enjoying his nakedness with Spike. `There you go then. Even-stevens I'd say.'

`How do you work that then?'

`Well, come on, Spike. He should have told you about Connor, and he should have told Connor about you and Darla. It's Angel's fault. Go back and tell him.'

Spike laughed and began to kiss along Wesley's arm, casting him seductive looks through lowered lids. `Shall I tell `im you said to say that?'

Wesley watched the erotic slow progress up his arm, desperate for it to reach his mouth. `If you like. I'm damned and outcast, Spike, hanging from a tree. I can't get any lower.'

`Sure you can, pet; you could fuck a vampire.'

Laughing, they rolled, kissing on the bed until Wesley's bodily exhaustion began to creep over him. He put his head on the pillow, closing his eyes briefly. `I'm sorry, Spike; I'm only human...'

Spike lay down, too, and put his face close against Wesley's, almost touching, close enough to feel the soft human breath on his face. Wesley opened his eyes. `I'd like you to be here in the morning.'

Spike grinned and snuggled in. `I like strong tea with milk, no sugar. And I don't get up before lunch. Ever.'

Although they had shared physical intimacy, sharing the bed was new and strange to them both. Wesley lay slightly rigid; Spike turned away from him. A few minutes passed. Wesley was hoping he didn't snore, dribble or do anything else human and embarrassing when his whole body was suddenly possessed by cold limbs. Spike coiled around him; Wesley melted to the embrace, and not caring what happened - sensing that anything human would only amuse and please this strange vampire - Wesley fell into the most restful sleep he had had for some weeks.

He still woke every so often during the night, a light rising to the surface of deep sleep. Once, he had the impression that Spike was sitting up; once, he thought he smelt cigarette smoke, but every time he woke a cool hand was on him - sometimes on his back, sometimes on his belly - so each time a sense of calm descended over him. His first thought on waking in the morning was, `Someone to fetch tea for; how nice.' His second thought was, `I'm being sucked off; how nice.'

Spike's mouth was soft around him. He opened his eyes and watched, as Spike's languid head floated up and down on his stiffening penis. The delight of not having to give himself urgent, early morning relief washed over him, and he lay back to enjoy the sensation. The sounds of the traffic drifted in through the open window; occasional shouting and music came through the wall from the neighbouring apartments, and he was here, being sucked off by a vampire - a beautiful, male, vampire that he fancied. Life was strange.

Spike continued his slow rolling and sucking of Wesley's penis even though he knew the human was awake. He let him enjoy the sensation, let him relax to the pleasure but, eventually, he pulled away and, continuing to play gently with Wesley's erection, said, with a cheeky raise of one eyebrow, `So, you feel like doing a bit of swapping this morning?'

Wesley coughed lightly. `Good morning to you, too, Spike. And, swapping?'

`You know... you give it to me?'

`Oh. Do I have... not that I don't want to... only...' he trailed off rather miserably but looked up, surprised, as Spike only lifted his warm human thigh slightly in response.

`Good, glad you said that, cus you know, I get enough of that from Angel. This makes a bit of a change for me,' and with that he began to play with Wesley's hole in preparation for another entry. Wesley watched him for a while, feeling his sore entrance respond with surprising delight to the new stretching. When Spike had his tip just pressed in, Wesley said quietly. `Angel?'

Engrossed in the sensations of Wesley's ass, Spike only murmured, `'Course, he always wants to take me; I wouldn't dare suggest he takes it for once.'

`Angel?'

Spike looked up and heard his own words. `Well, not Angel, I suppose. Angelus. Bit pedantic, mate.'

`You spoke in the present tense, too.'

`What?'

`Spike, is Angel fucking you?'

There was a silence, and Spike stilled his gentle entry of Wesley, then pulled out completely and sat back on his heels. `Fuck. It's been... over a hundred years? It still seems like yesterday, as though he still is.' He looked down. `No wonder he's moved on.'

`The soul would make a difference, too, I should think.'

`Yeah. Guess. A hundred years.' His voice was full of soft, regretful wonder.

`So, Spike... does Angel still... how shall I put it...?'

Spike grinned. `I'll make a suggestion, shall I?'

Wesley smiled. `Does Angel still fancy men, do you think?'

Spike looked thoughtfully at Wesley. `I don't know as he ever did, pet; I'm not exactly `men', am I?'

`Well, no, but you couldn't do this if you didn't like another man's body, could you? I mean, he must like this...' he put a hand on his own cock and stroked it lightly. Spike's eyes widened and he felt a tingle shoot through his balls at the simple act. `... are you expecting him to want to take up with you again? Is that why you came here?'

`I don't know as I'd thought it through that carefully. The bitch called me William; William made me think of Angelus; thinking of Angelus makes me think of Angel, an' I guess thinking about the ole fucker is always good, so I got in me car and came.'

`Would you though, if he wanted to?'

`Damn right I would. Why? You planning to try it with him?'

`Bloody hell, Spike, get your mind out of the gutter, will you? Angel is my best friend; I love him like a brother; I would do anything for him...' Wesley trailed off, sunk miserably in his own thoughts, but Spike grinned. It was just what he wanted to hear. He wouldn't have such a hard time on his hands after all. He put his finger back into Wesley's hole and played with him for a while, waiting for the human to give him his full attention.

Eventually Wesley roused and hissed as his prostrate was given a particularly skilful rub. `In, now.' Spike grinned and got back to what he enjoyed the most.

As he watched Spike's shaft slip in, Wesley couldn't help but ask, `If you do get back with Angel, and you resume your... err...'

`...fucking?'

`I was going to say relationship - but actually, fucking sounds a lot more appropriate - if you do, what about this?'

`You liking this then, Wesley? You thinking you might want to do some more of this, more edited highlights?'

`There's more than this?'

Spike tipped his head back and laughed out loud. `Bloody hell, watcher, you've got a lot to learn, and yeah, I like your ass; ain't gonna give this up. 'Sides, even if I do get back with Angel, that's only vampire fucking around. It don't mean nothing.' As if proving his point he knelt up against Wesley and just played gently with the stretch around his shaft. In the light of the morning and without the frantic lust that had driven them both the previous night, they had the time and the inclination to look and to feel and to touch and to wonder at the sensations their bodies could produce. Spike took Wesley's penis in his hand and played with the foreskin as he worked inside Wesley's hole. He pressed into the sensitive human perineum, trying to feel himself through the walls. Wesley began to pant as he felt his balls swelling. Spike pulled a pillow around and stuffed it under Wesley's backside, and he was lifted into a better position for the deep penetration Spike wanted. When all was just right, he began a long drawn out working of the human. He fucked Wesley for what seemed like hours. Every time Wesley threatened to come with powerful shuddering and jerking of his body, Spike clamped a hand down on his root and prevented it. He pushed in and out, in and out, the waves of pleasure being driven up his shaft and into Wesley's. They moaned in unison; they swore together, their eyes sometimes locked on each other, sometimes closed, leaving them the privacy of their own thoughts and desires. When he felt the time was right, Spike began.

`I'm worried about Angel.' His voice, low and ragged, matched the passion that was being created in the room. Wesley only groaned and tried to lift himself some more onto the pillow... ever higher... ever more penetration. `I don't trust the brat. He reeks of hatred for Angel.'

Wesley's eyes opened, and he tried to focus for a moment. `He loves Angel; you told me that... no, Gunn told me that. Push harder, Spike, please, just there, oh... yes...'

`It's a front.'

`Let me come, please Spike; I need to come; I'm... oh, Jesus, don't do that.'

`Wesley, he's lying, and Angel can't see it.'

`You're just jealous, Spike. Please, please, I beg of you... no! Don't tighten, oh, God, no more; I'm dying.'

`Hush. Maybe I am; I don't deny it, but that don't change the fact he's lying.'

`Angel would know. Let me... oh, God...'

`Angel's blinded by the light of his love and the darkness of his guilt. He's lost.'

`Yes, yes, yes, there, that's right, oh... you're so... how do you... yes. The others would see for him. Cordelia - she's spot on. Lorne's bloody psychic. They'd know. NO! Don't!`

`They do see. He isn't listening to them. He needs someone he loves to tell him.'

`Tell him then... oh, fuck... oh, fuck... I need to say fuck... fuck... I'm going to die if you do that.'

`Shhh, stop exaggerating, and he don't love me like that. I'm too much part of him; I'm in the light; I am the darkness; I'm him; he's me... I can't help him to see.' A long pause. `But you can.'

Wesley stilled the thrashing movements he was making on each thrust, each skewer of Spike's penis inside him and growled out an angry reply. `No!'

`Yes. Is that good, Wesley? Shall I let me fist go just a little? Can you feel the cum rising?'

`Oh, thank God; let me come.'

`Yes, then. I want you to speak to Angel.'

`No! I can't.'

`Yes, you can... you can cum, Wesley. Wouldn't it be great to cum... over your belly, hard shots of cum for me to see? Say yes.'

`No! NO! God, don't stop me again.'

`Yes, then.'

`No! Please, Spike, please have mercy. I can't. He hates me; I betrayed him. I'm Judas.'

`Oh, hush, pet. Stop that; just say yes; it's so much easier, and I'll help you... like I'm helping you with this... wanna see how supple I am?'

`Oh, God, swallow me... in your mouth, I'm coming, I'm coming... NOOOO!'

`Yes, then. Is it yes?'

`You... oh! Please... take me in your mouth again. Yes. Yes. Yes, Spike, yes. It's yes now... ah! Ah! AH!'

Spike was sucking hard so couldn't comment on the watcher's capitulation. Wesley exploded down his throat. He'd never felt cum so warm, so violently propelled. He knew the watcher had wanted to see Angel really; now all he had to do was think of a way for them to meet. Planning was fun, especially when you were swallowing copious loads of warm, early morning cum.

Wesley did not speak for a while after his orgasm. He lay still, allowing Spike to finish deep inside him. He watched, annoyed, intrigued, and intensely turned on, as Spike brought himself off in his warm body. It was a favourable position to watch Spike from - Spike's belly banging against his open thighs; the abs rippling as he worked; the smooth chest heaving for unnecessary air; a pale neck stretched back; long, slender fingers wrapped over his knees - he could watch Spike for hours and never tire of the sight of that body. He saw Spike's face change as he was about to cum; wondered what it was like for that dead, lifeless body to feel such unnatural animation and force of life and saw the answer in the corded neck; heard it in the high-pitched scream; felt it in the cold wash that flooded him. Unnatural sensation, but oh, how intensely pleasurable it was - even the leaking out, cooling and soothing to his stretched, sore hole.

Spike slipped out and sat back, and then bent over and put his forehead to the mattress. Wesley eased off the ruined pillow and rolled onto his stomach. He groaned as a hand slid over his backside. `No. Please. Enough.'

`I just wanted to say good boy for agreeing, Wesley. You know you've done the right thing.' Spike's tongue, licking at him and cleaning him, made any contradiction to this seem rather pointless.

`You are the devil, Spike.'

`Thanks. Not yet, but I'm hoping to be promoted one day.' He slapped Wesley on his backside and flung himself down. `Where's me cuppa?'

`God.'

`Go on, make us a brew, an' we'll discuss tactics.'

`Joining the army? Please say yes.'

`Tactics to get you and Angel together. It's got to be just right.'

`How about we wait until I die and meet him in hell?'

`You ain't going to hell, pet. You're far too valuable in heaven. Too valuable here, now. So, stop all that self-indulgent, sexy, feelin' sorry for yerself - feel sorry for me instead and make me a bloody cup of tea.'

Wesley got up and wrapped a sheet modesty around his waist, waiting for the laugh of derision from Spike. Spike only looked thoughtfully at the ceiling as if inspiration could be found there.

Feeling a little manipulated, Wesley said with quiet amusement. `You'll have to go back today and see him, or you'll lose your influence with him, too.'

Spike looked at him horrified. `Oh, bloody hell. Still, guess he ain't gonna whip me or beat me or fuck me to unconsciousness, is he? He's got a soul now; what can he do?' Wesley laughed at his wistful tone and went to put the kettle on. He chuckled to himself as it boiled. He knew he'd put Spike on the spot and had the distinct impression that the vampire would be squirming. The thought of Spike squirming made him groan a little, and he pressed lightly into the counter. A pair of strong arms slipped around him and began to work at the knot of the sheet. `Spike!' Wesley put a warning hand down. `I utterly refuse to make tea for you naked. It's totally inappropriate.'

`Inappropriate? After we've just...'

`That was the bedroom. This is my kitchen; I will not... don't!' Wesley tutted as Spike hopped naked on the counter. `I shall never, ever make another sandwich there; you know that, don't you?'

He fetched Spike a towel and threw it at him; Spike tutted, too, but draped it decorously over his lap.

Wesley couldn't resist the continuing the pressure on the annoying vampire. `So, Spike, when are you going back? Angel might be worried about you.'

`Fuck off.'

They both laughed before Wesley could even reply with his `Not right now.'

He passed Spike a cup and leant on the counter opposite him. `Angel won't see me. I don't care what plan you think you have; he won't. I know him!'

Spike pushed out his bottom lip a little and looked shifty. `I didn't really have a plan, mate. I kinda just thought... you come back... we'll all be there... he'll shout... you'll kiss and make up... but I'll admit, it's not me most stunnin' plan, is it?'

`No.'

`Guess I'm going back then - `til something comes to me.'

`Come on, take a shower, and I'll put your stuff in the washing machine.'

Spike grinned. `That'll be a first for `em then,' but he hopped off and went distractedly towards the bathroom. The water was scalding hot once more, and he let its soporific effects work on his tense body. He dried distractedly then slumped on the sofa while his clothes washed, watching Wesley make an attempt to clean and clear away the detritus of his betrayal. Wesley felt Spike's eyes on him and turned. Spike repeated for the third time, `Feel better now?'

Wesley looked directly at him then nodded once, a small nod of understanding and gratitude. He came slowly over to Spike and sat next to him on the couch. `I almost want to say, don't go back, stay here.'

Spike grinned. `Wish I had this effect on some other people I could mention.'

`But I do want to see Angel. I do want to try and explain to him what I did and why...'

`I know, pet.'

Wesley looked down, embarrassed. `When will I see you?'

Spike accommodatingly moved aside the towel. `Now?'

It was a restrained, almost wistful blowjob. At each suck, each lick, Wesley felt he was losing something he had only now realised he could have. At each swell and rise of his orgasm, Spike felt the impending confrontation with Angel like a tight band around his balls. He did cum; Wesley did swallow. but it gave neither of them any real satisfaction. Wesley sat up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. Spike leant in, just to lick one small droplet falling from the human's soft lips, but Wesley captured his mouth, desperately pushing Spike down onto his back. What he'd not been able to say or show in the blowjob, he tried to demonstrate in the kiss.

They were both surprised by its intensity, by its... sweetness. They kissed like new lovers, friends, playmates. Finally, Spike slid out from under Wesley and pulled him into his shoulder. `If we go on, mate, I'm just gonna stay here all day.'

`Good.'

`Nah. I need to do this `fore... well, I ain't that brave these days, so better go face the bleedin' music.'

`Soon though, will I see you soon?'

Spike pulled on his jeans and Angel's shirt, both warm from the dryer, feeling oddly more naked and vulnerable with these clothes on. He glanced across at Wesley and replied quietly, `Yeah, soon.'

It took him a long time to navigate his way back through the tunnels, but he didn't exactly hurry. His feet felt leaden, his dead heart heavy. He entered the lobby, waiting for the screaming to start... to find it deserted. He wandered over to the counter and almost jumped when Lorne popped up from behind.

`Sweet blond one! You're dead!'

'Duh! Newsflash. not. Where's Angel?'

'No, little testy one, I mean.'

'.just tell me, demon, was he mad.?'

'Oh, you can bet your sweet bottom dollar on that, but.'

'Oh, fuck. Shouting?'

'Sweetie, it was worse than.'

'Breaking of things?'

'Look bro' I'm tryin' to tell you here. demon on a mission.'

''He still mad?'

'Okay, I'm starting to think serenity; I'm seeing lotus blossoms.'

'Do you think he'll see me?'

'I think he might, honey, cus I'm trying to tell you.'

'Tell me he'll stake me, right?'

'Hush, hon. You already are staked, my little cacophony of self-absorption.'

'What?'

'Destructo boy' told him he'd killed you. Angelpie's been a little testy since - if you know what I mean.'

'Oh. so the shouting.'

'Sure was, cupcake.'

'The breaking of stuff?'

'All broken over those fabulous blue eyes of yours.'

'All for me?'

'You'd better believe it, hon.'

'Fuck.'

'Well, haven't I just made someone's day. And oh, those dimples are just to die for! Couldn't you just fill them with tequila and suck them dry?'

'Shut the fuck up, ya poof.' But Spike clasped Lorne by the cheeks and squeezed them lightly, still grinning at him. 'Where is the other poof, and I need a drink.'

'Angelhair's gone killing. And I'm just betting you've never tried a Marilyn Mouthful?'

Spike sat in the kitchen, dubiously watching Lorne mixing and tasting a frightening selection of strange, alcoholic potions. 'Why did the little git tell 'im that then? Just making trouble, I guess.'

'Oh, I think a little green-eyed monster has risen in this hotel recently. Here, sip, bro'.'

Spike drank and gagged, spluttering the contents of his mouth across the table. 'Fucking what is this!'

Lorne sipped his complacently and watched Spike carefully.

'So, littl' Angel's jealous of me, is 'e?' A satisfied, sly grin crossed Spike's face.

'More than one little green monster here then, I'm thinking. Feel good, does it, being jealous of a munchkin?'

'Fuck off, demon. I'm not jealous of that little tosser; why should I be? I'm worried 'bout Angel, 's all. He's gonna hurt Angel. It's written all over the self-righteous wanker.'

'Oh relax. You're wrong.'

'No, I'm not. I know humans; I've been knowing the bleeders for nearly two hundred years - 's why I'm still here. That kid wants to kill Angel.'

'No, the kid wants Angel to love him, and he'd kill Angel and himself to make Angel do that. There's a big - Frank's-opening-night-in-Los-Vegas big - difference.'

'That's. stupid.' Spike began to feel almost hypnotised by the demon's startling eyes; he pushed the drink away, suddenly afraid it was drugged.

'It's not drugged, pretty one. Why would I need to do that?'

'Hey. you're reading me mind!'

'Umm, and what a Dorothy-in-Kansas whirlwind of a mind it is where sweet peaches is concerned.'

'Look, that kid is dangerous. It's why I'm getting the. anyway, he is.'

'Wesley? You've been with Wesley? Well, bubba, kudos to you for that!'

'Oh, Christ on the cross, stop bloody doing that readin' thing! And yes, I went to see the watcher. He's got to come back and talk some bleedin' sense into Angel. No one else seems able to!'

Lorne looked pleased. 'You, sugar, are brighter than that hairstyle would allow. And hey! Wesley's coming home! I feel a chorus of 'Tie a Yellow Ribbon' is needed!'

To Spike's great relief, this threat proved empty; Lorne merely continued to sip his drink. With a resigned sigh, Spike took his up again. 'So, watcher ain't needed then. if the kid ain't dangerous.'

'Oh, I didn't say he wasn't dangerous, sex-on-a-stick; he's just not dangerous to Angel. I wouldn't leave him in a room with you unless I needed some glittery dust for a nice collage. And Wesley is needed here more than you will ever know. And there's just got to be a song in there somewhere.'

'You tellin' me I shouldn't tell Wes that the kid's off the hook 'bout Angel?'

Lorne only looked at him expressively.

'You're a devious green bastard, ain't you?'

'Well, colour me incredulous, but at least I plan with my gorgeous pants still firmly in place.'

'Hey! Stop doin' that! That's gotta be illegal or summit. And don't I have to be singing? Ana-whatever demons read people singing!'

'I hear your song loud and clear without a melody, blondie, and I'm thinking torches and trilogies! No wait! I'm seeing Wesley; I'm seeing all that fabulous stubble and that dark, brooding expression. Ooh, I'm seeing something pale and very hard rising and, hmm, it's slipping in, and I'm hearing Kylie. Sing on girl! "I should be so lucky".'

Lorne proceeded to sway around the kitchen with his glass doing an uncanny impression of the diminutive Australia singer. Spike started to laugh; the demon's complete refusal to be pessimistic relaxed him and took the edge off his usual sharp defensive mechanisms.

Lorne finished his tuneful parody and sat down receiving applause from a vast, but invisible audience. When he had acknowledged it enough, he turned to Spike with an amused smile. 'Why don't you take those tight little buns upstairs, darlin', and wait for even-tighter-in-the-ass to get home. I'll tell him you're not dead - so it's not such a shock to that old heart of his when his sourpuss mood vanishes.'

Spike grinned and, downing the rest of his drink in one go, bounded up the stairs to his room. As he passed Angel's, he couldn't help but see the devastation that had been wrought there. Bed coverings had been shredded, clothes ripped out of the wardrobe, the bookcase overturned, a lamp smashed, and the contents of drawers strewn across the floor. Gingerly, Spike made his way across the detritus of Angel's despair. He kicked a book and absentmindedly picked it up. Glancing at it, he stilled. He looked around and picked up the other books he could see. He put the half dozen of them on the bed and sat down, almost afraid to look. He picked the first one up again and opened it at random. Angel's bold, elegant handwriting filled the margins of each page. He had thought Angel had given Connor all their books. He was wrong. Angel had kept the most loved, safe in his room.

Demons loving poetry - the Scourge of Europe and William the Bloody reading poetry - how they had hidden that little secret from the others. He picked up another and smiled at the memories that assailed him. "How do I love thee?" Angel had shown him how that night: they had counted the ways together, each position, each entry, each move on each other's bodies remembered. and there in the margin, a bold number ten, crossed out and amended later to fifteen as their passion had taken even more sating before the final count was done.

Unbidden, Spike felt tears spring to his eyes. Why had Angel kept these books but not kept the faith with him?

*****