"Uncle Rupert, it's not what you think..."

"What? That you and Angel are having sex?" he interrupts. Strangely enough, he's not shouting at me. He's actually talking in a rather calm voice, and it's setting me off balance.

"Well, yes we are, but I..." Do I really have to say this? Do I want to tell someone else what I feel for Angel? What if I disgust him? What if he makes Angel leave? Do I have the courage to leave with him?

"I... I love him," I finally admit.

"William, we both know you go through fads. A couple of months ago you wanted to be a poet. Before that a pop star. I mean, look at what you did to your hair," he smiles, but then turns serious again. "William, Angel is a very sensitive person. I like him, I really do and I don't want to see him hurt. He's been through a lot, and he's recovering from drug abuse. Most of all, I don't want to see you hurt. I don't want you to look at what you're doing in a month's time and see a huge mistake. I don't want you to feel as though you have to keep this relationship going because you'll hurt Angel. If you're not sure, if you think that maybe you've made a mistake, you have to decide now, William. Before it goes too far. You have to know what you really want."

Wow! Again. I've been saying that a lot today already. My uncle is talking to me. Person to person. As if I was actually an adult and he respected me. I'll say it again - Wow!

Suddenly, before I can say a word, a voice floats down from upstairs. "Will?" Angel calls.

"Here," I shout back.

With a flurry of movement, Angel runs down the stairs and into the kitchen. His arms are filled with canvas. He skids to a halt as soon as he spots my uncle and looks shyly at the floor.

"What is it?" I ask, touching his arm. Giles notes the sentiment, but says nothing.

"I've finished," Angel replies, his voice soft and embarrassed. At first I don't understand what he means, and then I look at what he's holding. Wow! He painted! I jump up and grab one from him.

"William!" Giles scolds. Angel doesn't complain and starts to smile at my enthusiasm. I flip the canvas over and lay it carefully on the table, shoving aside the paper and cups, making sure nothing can stain it. "William!" Giles shouts again, but I don't hear him.

"Bloody hell!" I cry. "Wow!" In an instant, I'm in Angel's arms and kissing him. I can't get enough of his warm, wet mouth as his willing tongue duels with mine. I clutch him closer, and I feel as though this is the best decision I've ever made in my life.

"Angel, I love you," I tell him in front of my Uncle and he glows deep red. I've never seen Angel blush before. It's something I'll have to do more often. Also I've got to find another word to replace `Wow!'

"Angel, these are... amazing," my Uncle gasps. He stands up and takes another canvas from Angel's hands. I swear his eyes start to tear up. "How... it's..." he stutters.

The pictures *are* amazing. They are perfect in every way. Above all that though, I know it's because of Angel's happiness that he's painting again. Because of us... me. You might think that egotistical, but in truth, it's the same for me. I began my novel because of Angel's and my own happiness.

All afternoon we spent looking at Angel's pictures. He even showed my Uncle those of his deceased sister. The new paintings are not of her, but of me. There are a couple of our house, but I didn't really look at them. I just can't believe how Angel has drawn me. I mean I look like some sort of Greek god. Immaculate in everyway. He's drawn me to perfection. Every curve, smile, look is so real, so lifelike. My uncle is shocked and overjoyed at the paintings. So much so he's across the road and bringing in Joyce Summers, who owns the local art galley. She's over excited about the paintings and they both start planning to put on an exhibition of his work. Angel is totally bemused by all the goings on around him, but I lap up all the attention he gives me. He never leaves my side, sitting beside me, as his leg constantly touches mine. His fingers reaching for mine when he thinks no one is looking. I love how he needs me as much as I need him. I know that at this moment I am making the right decision. Angel is in my life forever, and I'll never willingly let him go.

30th March 2002

A week as gone by, and it's the busiest I've ever had. I've been writing while Angel paints. We have moved his old bedroom around and set up an easel for Angel and workstation for me. I need to be with him to write. Without his presence I can't seem to think straight. It's quiet when we work. I must have written well over 1000 pages of my novel now and I've started to split it into smaller books. Angel's done 6 watercolours and has started an oil painting. He tells me that it won't be finished for the showing tonight. Oil paintings can take weeks, or even months to dry.

Oh, bugger! It's late. When I write, I lose track of time, and Angel's totally engrossed with his work. My uncle appears at the door and starts shouting about being late. He's slowly accepting my decision to stay with Angel. It was a shock for him when I decided to keep my relationship with Angel going. He wasn't bothered about the gay angle, but about my ability to make long term decisions. This time I'll prove him wrong. After that, Angel moved into my room and we changed the second bedroom into a studio/office. I think Giles does approve of Angel in the small ways. He likes how assertive I've become with my lover around. He says they are positive changes, and I think that's all the praise I'll ever get out of him. The English are well known not to talk about their feelings, and Giles is no exception.

The exhibition of Angel's work goes down a complete success. I was expecting boredom to set in, but I spent most of the night making sure all the available women - and not so available - stayed away from him. In the end, I think they got the message. My friends say I'm overprotective of Angel, but they don't understand his past. They don't understand why I fear for him, especially when I nearly lost him. Sometimes, I have nightmares about Malloy turning up and raping him again. I dream about coming home and finding Angel dead with the letter M carved into his chest.

With the successful showing of Angel's work (he sold 6 paintings!), my Uncle decides to have a special dinner and sends me for a Chinese take away. I'm glad he doesn't want to go out for dinner, because later all I want to do is have hot passionate sex with Angel. It's been so hard just keeping my hands off him all night. On the way home, the Chinese food clutched in my hand, I start to plan our future. A future with Angel. A future...

What the hell? This isn't right. The door to my home is slightly ajar, and there is only splintered wood where the lock used to be. Oh god, no!

"Angel!" I scream, pushing the door wide open, the food dropping, forgotten from my hands. "Angel!"

Nothing. The hall is silent... Wait, a minute... I suddenly remember my Uncle buying a gun when he first moved to America. It's only small, but he always kept it in the hall and loaded. I had an immensely long and tedious lecture about how I'm never allowed to touch it. I dive for the sideboard in the hall, shoving aside papers and odds and ends. I know it's in one of these drawers. It has be here... it has... Got it!! I check it's loaded, and it is.

"Angel!" I call again, this time more confidently, as I hold the gun out before me. Behind me there is a muffled noise and I stop dead. There it is again, coming from the main living room. It's a part of the house we don't use a lot. Most of my time is spent in my bedroom or the kitchen. I slowly open the door and...

"Shit! Angel!" I cry, my body trembling with fury and fear.

There are three men in the room with my Uncle and Angel. One of them I know as Malloy. The others must be his associates Angel mentioned. My temper boils as I think about them touching Angel. Their filthy bodies pressing against his. I check my Uncle and find he's basically unhurt. He has a nasty bruise on his head, and is tied securely to a dinning chair; otherwise he's unharmed. My main concern is Angel.

He's on the floor before Malloy. His face blackened and bleeding with one eye swollen shut. His clothing has been torn, and in Malloy's hand he holds a large syringe filled with white liquid.

"Let him go!" I grind out, my gun hand pointing steadily at Malloy.

"Stupid boy," he laughs.

I really should follow those detective films better. From behind me, another man surges forward and knocks me flying. I crash into the sofa, momentarily winded and the gun spins across the hardwood floor away from my reach. I yell in anger and kick at this new enemy. My leg catches his thigh and he bellows in pain. Good! Unfortunately, I'm a little outnumbered and soon all three of Malloy's associates surround me.

"Tie him up," Malloy orders them, "he isn't the reason we're here."

I'm pulled onto my knees and they bind my hands with white plastic ties. Damn things are unbreakable. My ankles get the same treatment and I can't fucking move. A large piece of duck tape is then roughly pressed over my mouth. When I'm secured, the Pimp turns his attention back to Angel. He kneels on the floor beside him, pushing Angel onto his back. My lover groans, and I realise he must have taken a hard hit to the head. There is a large cut above his hairline, which is the cause of the blood.

"Hello, my pretty boy," Malloy murmurs stroking Angel's face.

Angel moans in distress, trying to pull away from the hand, but gasping in pain from his head wound.

"You really shouldn't have run from me, Angel. I own you. You can't just walk away from me. I thought I had taught you that lesson. Didn't we learn anything from that night?"

Angel's eyes widen in fear, and he backs away. Malloy grabs his arm and pulls him back. Angel's hands try desperately to push Malloy's men away as they strip him of his shirt, and start unbuckling his pants. Angel cries out in terror and begs them to stop. He acts as if drunk and I think he's got a concussion. With one fast movement, Malloy backhands him and Angel falls back onto the floor, yelling in pain as he hits his head again. Tears burn my eyes and I scream inside knowing I can't help him! I think I'm going to lose him. When Angel is naked, Malloy spreads his legs and shoves a couple of fingers inside his ass. Angel cries in pain and desperately tries to escape the burning agony.

"I own you. You're my whore, Angel. No one has ever left me. If they try, I just have to make an example of them. Don't I, boys?" Malloy looks up at his partners and they laugh, sharing the private joke.

Unfortunately, I understand it all now too. Jerome told me about Malloy's prostitutes. No one has ever left him or lived that long. I see that would be because at the first sign of him or her getting themselves together again, Malloy killed them. Just as he's going to do with Angel. He'll rape Angel and then overdose him, just like all the others.

"You were my prettiest boy, Angel. My favourite. Your ass was always so tight when I tore into you." He strokes Angel's body, and he struggles desperately. Well, as much as his injuries let him. Malloy shoves two more fingers inside Angel and he screams in response. Angel's arms flail about while Malloy brings the needle down towards him...

BANG!

The noise reverberates around the room and hurts my eardrums. At first, I don't understand what happened. I stare at Malloy, who's looking down at Angel with wide frozen eyes. The syringe drops from his hand, smashing onto the wooden floor. My eyes gaze down to his chest, widening as I watch a patch of red on his shirt grow and spread. Suddenly, the silence is over and the shouting commences. There are two more bangs, and another body falls to the ground. I am shoved over onto my side as the last two of Malloy's ex-partners push past me and out of the front door. Outside, there is shouting and the sound of a car pulling away at high speed.

I don't think I know what's happened. My eyes can't understand what they see. Before me are two dead bodies. One is Malloy, dead by a shot to the chest. Dead on top of my Angel. Angel who holds the discarded gun in his hand. Angel, who is slowly going into shock, after killing his most feared adversary.

I try desperately to break my bonds but I can't. Suddenly, a woman's voice breaks the deadly silence and Joyce Summers comes running in. In her hand she has an enormous kitchen knife, but as soon as she sees the dead body she starts screaming. Thankfully, it doesn't last too long, and when she notices me beside her at the door, she immediately cuts me free. She babbles in non-coherent sentences, but I don't have the time to comfort her. I need to get to Angel. I pull the duck tape from my mouth and slowly crawl towards him. Behind me Joyce helps my Uncle free.

"Angel?" I whisper softly, trying not to startle him. Angel doesn't move, his eyes still attached to Malloy's dead body. I notice Angel's body trembling, and he has started to sweat. I reach out and slowly pull the throw from the sofa and slowly crawl towards him.

"Angel?" I ask again, this time into his ear. Angel suddenly seems to process I'm really here and his wide terrified eyes turn to mine. "Angel? It's okay now; it's over..."

"W-Will?" he stutters, "Will..."

Angel drops the gun from his hand, and starts to panic as he realises Malloy's body is touching his. I grab his hands and with my foot shove Malloy off him. In seconds, Angel is pressed against my body, he sobs loudly into my shoulder. I wrap the throw around us and cover his nakedness.

"Oh god, Angel... I nearly lost you..." I weep into his thick hair. I hold him so tight. I don't think about if he's hurt, I just need to touch him. I need to know he's alive, with me... forever.

2nd April 2002

Angel was released from hospital today. He was kept in under surveillance because of the blow to the head. He needed eleven stitches and it will leave a scar. Fortunately, it won't be seen unless Angel goes bald, which I doubt he will. His other injuries are healing fine and there won't be any permanent damage. I was so scared when I saw Angel in the hospital. I was terrified that he wouldn't want me after this. To my amazement however, the first thing he said was how much he wanted to be home, in our bed, making love to me.

My uncle and Joyce arranged a dinner when we arrived home, and Angel was so surprised that they still wanted to know him after all he had done. I know he feels guilty about killing Malloy, but it was that or fie from an overdose. This was the view of the police as well, and upon questioning him, they decided not to press charges. They warned him about his days of prostitution, but my Uncle vowed it would never happen again. He told them that Angel had a home, family and was an upcoming and successful artist.

When everyone had left, and I was allowed time alone with my lover, I gave him my surprising news. We lay in bed, naked from our passion, and I handed him a letter. It was from Pocket books publishing house. They had accepted my novel and would be printing it in the fall. They had even asked for more of the series.

"I love you forever, Will," Angel whispered as I took him into my arms to sleep.

"My Angel," I answered.

23rd February 2052

Today is my 68th birthday. It is also the 50th anniversary of my relationship with Angel. Yes, we've been together for 50 years. 50 years of loving my Angel. Over time, we've grown old and changed, but I still love him. For me, there has never been anyone else. Over the years, Angel has become more outgoing and talkative with people, but ever since Malloy's death he's never left my side. You might think 50 years is a long time to be together, totally and completely, but for me its not enough. Angel needs me, but I need Angel just as much.

I've become a successful writer, but like always, I can only write in Angel's presence. My novels are bestsellers, and I was the first Gay writer to win worldwide acclaim for my Angel & Spike novels, which are still going today. I don't just write those however. I write mystery, murder, horror, and yes I even tried my hand at romance. Of course it was under another name, but I was rather pleased with it. I wrote about a prostitute who saved someone's life and they fell in love. It was the bestseller for a whole year.

Angel has done well with his paintings. The last one sold for an amazing one million dollars. He donated most of the money to the local children's home, which keeps kids off the streets. I don't mind him doing that, since the Children's home is named Kathy's Children's Protectorate, after his sister. With my business and writing, we spend most of the time living in LA, but when things get stressed, we move back to Sunnydale and the house my uncle left me in his will. That is our sanctuary, our real home.

When we come home, all our friends arrive and their children surround us. I'm uncle to so many of them, I can't remember all their names. It's nice being the uncle. They come and visit, play and then they go home again. Thank god! I remember when I was much younger being asked by an interviewer if I regretting not getting married and having children. Angel's face had fallen with that question; there have been times when he's asked me the same. In private, I'd take him to bed and don't let him leave until I've convinced him how much I love him. In the interview, I took Angel's hand and gave a straight answer: "No."

Anyway back to today. My friends have planned a huge party for Angel and myself. A double celebration for my birthday and our anniversary. Angel hates the big parties, and he'll be at my side all the time. He might be 70, but women and men still give him the once over. At least now when he won't leave my side, I don't have to worry about anyone making passes at him. He's aged so well, his hair is still thick, but now pure white. His body is well muscled and he still exercises every day. He says that it's keeps us from taking Viagra, so I keep myself in good shape too. I think that even on my deathbed I'll want to make love to Angel. Angel says I've hardly changed at all in the past 50 years. Still lithe, thin and with fine blond hair. I did go though a phase of having it blue, but then Angel started laughing while having sex, remembering that time he replaced the soap with toilet blue and dyed my hand. I bleached it the next day. I couldn't have anyone thinking I'd stuck my head down the toilet, now could I?

It's nearly time for the party and Angel puts down his paints. He slides onto the chair beside me and wraps his arms around my waist.

"So, Angel and Spike still going?" he enquires.

"Yeah," I answer distracted. Sometimes I wish that was us. That we were vampires, living and loving forever. That we would be immortal and even when the world crumbles to dust, we would still be here, and still in love.

"Angel, still worrying about his hair gel?" asks my Angel, "and has Spike got over his big bad attitude yet?"

"Hey, he's a big bad, evil Vampire. Don't forget that. Angel's the one with the guilt problem. He's the one who has to get over the remorse attitude."

Angel laughs and kisses me lightly. He can't get off that easily. I pull him closer and kiss him again, this time my tongue mapping out the inside of his mouth. I slide one hand down the front of his shirt to his slacks and I grin. He's hard.

"Want to be fashionably late?" I whisper into his ear as I suck his earlobe.

"Why?" he murmurs back, his hands running down my back to grope at my ass.

"I wanna fuck you," I answer, kissing him harshly.

"Such language," he scolds.

"Yeah, you love it."

"Then fuck me," he begs.

I pull him to his feet and into our bedroom. We fall onto the bed, our lips meeting again as our hands caress.

It doesn't matter that we aren't vampires. That we will grow old and die. We shall have eternity, because our love shall last forever. Even if it's only remembered in the written words of my stories of Angel and Spike. We shall be remembered always, and in the next life, even if I come back as William the bloody... Spike, I shall always love Angel... my Angel... my sire... my Angelus.

The End