Spike leaned over the edge of the tub with his fingers dangling in the water, waiting for Angel to get comfortable.

"You," Angel said, fixing Spike's gaze intently.

"What about me, luv?"

"You are my lover. Or were. I remember."

Spike sighed. "Yeah. I am. I was. I will be. It's complicated, us. We've got this yen for hurting each other. We like to beat each other up-in lots of ways. Do you remember that bit about us?"

Angel looked down for a moment, then his eyes clouded with sadness. "Why do we do that?"

"Dunno, really," Spike said, reaching for the bar of lavender soap. He dipped it into the water and started a nice fragrant lather. "We're bloody stupid, I reckon. No other reason makes much sense, to tell you the truth."

"Before I left . . ." The brunette's eyes followed Spike's hands as he began to gently soap up his right arm.

"Yeah?"

"I was . . . empty. Something missing . . . inside."

"Your soul," Spike told him. "It's back now, though. Not sure how that happened. We just got rid of the sodding thing and it found its way back like an abandoned dog. Do you remember how?"

While Spike worked the lavender scented lather over the skin of Angel's arms, the brunette scowled in thought. "I think . . . it was just before . . . in the last minute before. I felt it and I was . . . confused. I don't know how it happened. I just know it was there. Still there." He brightened a little and looked up. "I think Buffy did it."

"Well, at that moment, she was defending herself and trying to stick something sharp and pointy through your tender bits, mate. She was in no mood for doing any tricky soul-retrieving ceremonies. It must have been someone else. Maybe, somehow, it was Acathla."

Angel flinched suddenly in the bathtub and drew his legs up against his chest like a frightened child. Spike froze, holding his hands up, trying to get Angel to look at him again.

"Whoa . . . what happened there? What'd I do?"

Angel shook his head, but he wouldn't look up.

"What did I say?" Spike's mind raced, retracing the exchange they had been having. "Was it . . . the demon?" he said, taking care not to say Acathla's name again, just in case. "Is that it?"

Angel stopped shaking his head by way of affirmation. His lips were pressed to his wet knees and his soapy arms were wrapped tightly around his legs. He looked at Spike imploringly. "Please . . . I don't want to think about that now, all right? Just don't . . . say it again."

"You got it, luv. Just relax, now . . . We don't have to talk at all, if you don't want to."

After a moment, Angel composed himself and relaxed into the water again. When Spike touched his arms with the soft lather, his beautiful sire was still trembling.

"Just sit back," he said soothingly. "Let me bathe you. Take a little nap, if you like."

Angel slumped down into the water and Spike shifted around the tub so he could reach in easier. He generated more lather and then went to work on Angel's torso. With great care, he scrubbed with his hands until all the smudges were gone and nothing was left but that smooth alabaster skin and a few tiny scratches near the right side of Angel's ribs. When he looked up, Angel's eyes were closed and his full lips were parted slightly. Spike wanted to kiss him so bad, he had to look away. He'd just got the lad calm, no sense sending him off into a panic attack again.

More lather, and he began working on those lovely legs, trying not to focus on Angel's thick, heavy cock. If he didn't look at it, he wouldn't crave it-or at least that was the plan. He was quickly distracted by a long ugly cut running the length of Angel's right thigh and Spike took care to clean the dirt and bits of gravel out of it. Angel winced slightly at one point, but he didn't pull away. He watched the younger vampire's ministrations through heavy-lidded eyes, clearly enjoying the kind attention.

Working his fingers gently into the tender flesh behind the knees, Spike smiled when he heard Angel sigh with pleasure. That part of his body had always been sensitive. Back in the old days, Spike used to love to tie Angel up and lick and bite him there until he begged to be fucked. That and the kissing were always sure triggers. It made Spike happy that Angel had returned from wherever he was with his erogenous zones intact.

"Sing . . ." Angel whispered and Spike looked up inquisitively.

"What's that?"

"Sing for me. Like last night."

Chuckling softly, Spike shook his head. "You're lovin' this, aren't you? Acting all broken and fragile. It's a load of shit, innit? You've got me catering and lookin' after you. You're lappin' it up. And now you want to make me bleedin' sing."

For the first time since he'd been back, Angel breathed a quiet laugh. Spike watched his handsome face for a long time, reveling in the sparkle of that tiny laugh. Still stroking the skin behind Angel's knees, he stretched his fingers and caressed the inside of those smooth thighs.

In response, Angel let out a soft, breathy moan.

"Yeah, you've always liked that," Spike purred and then he let himself have a look at that delectable cock. It was swelling quickly, reaching up Angel's belly as it engorged with blood. Spike's mouth watered.

With his soap slicked hands, he gently pushed Angel's thighs apart, stroking them and cleaning them as he went. His goal was the tender flesh at the very top of the legs, right where they met the curve of the buttocks. Angel was ticklish there-ticklish in a good way-and Spike wanted to see if that juicy spot still caused the same reaction it used to.

He was so focused on what his hands were doing, he hadn't noticed Angel lifting his arm until his wet fingers slid behind Spike's neck. He shivered with pleasure and looked up at the brunette seductively. "Cheeky bugger. You remember that spot, do you?"

Angel tickled the fine hairs at the nape of Spike's neck very gently with his ragged nails. The broken edges were sharp and created a delicious contrasting sensation with his silky fingertips. Spike sighed and licked his lips.

"Now, now, peaches. You'd best be a might careful. I haven't had you in a long time . . . and you look . . . so lovely right now. All vulnerable and wet."

"I don't remember . . . about peaches," Angel said, his brow creasing. "Why . . . do you call me that?"

"No?" Spike said, smirking but disappointed. "Aw. Really? Maybe it'll come back to you." He reached for the soap again and worked up some more lather. Then he ran his soapy hands down the center of Angel's hard belly until he made contact with his then fully erect cock. Half expecting Angel to flinch away again, Spike froze for a second, waiting to see how this new and daring touch would be received.

Angel tensed all over and instantly began to pant, his fingers gripping the sides of the tub. He watched Spike's eyes with fierce intensity. Spike felt that beautiful cock grow to its thickest circumference right there in his hand and he smiled at Angel, sweetly, obligingly, mischievously.

"This is good, then?"

Angel licked his lips, trembling all over.

"'Cause I don't think I can keep my hands off it . . . not lookin' all ravenous and hard and lovely like it is. Needing relief as bad it does and everything."

Angel's chest lifted and fell in short, gasping breaths and he licked his lips again. "Please . . ." he murmured. "I . . . please . . . rub it . . . or let go of it . . ."

Grinning with pleasure, Spike curled his soapy fingers around the stiff shaft of Angel's cock and pulled it gently from root to tip. He'd never seen Angel so hard before, never felt such sudden tension in his body. As many times as they'd been together sexually, Spike had never once felt Angel lose control. He was there now. He was nearly hysterical with need. This desire was more chemical than emotional and that somehow made it even more powerful. Naked, raw need in its truest form.

Instantly wanton and completely abandoned, Angel let his head drop back over the edge of the tub as he moaned outloud. His thighs opened wide and his hips raised up to meet Spike's stroking hand in quick jabs, increasing the pressure and friction as much as he could in a reclined position. Spike bit his bottom lip in concentration and held on, taking care not to lose his grip.

Angel's moans were the most raw thing he had ever heard. Spike was almost afraid of the sound, but not quite. It wasn't pain, it was the sound of a dire, unspeakable deprivation finally being quenched. The sound made his heart ache and made him want to keep giving Angel pleasure for as long as he could stand it. Spike wanted to make up for what his mentor had lost, even if he had no way of knowing what that entailed.

When the contractions hit, Angel's entire body shook and those moans became guttural, agonized growls. Spike was so gentle with the pulsating erection in his hand, so careful not to overstimulate and ruin the pleasure-even if he wasn't sure there was a great deal of pleasure at hand. The ejaculate was thick and clotted, dark with blood and there was so much of it. He could see Angel's balls tightening and lifting with each spasm, forcing the dense, pent-up fluid out. His nipples hardened and his eyes squeezed shut and then finally those moans became whimpering, spent gasps.

The onslaught subsided and Angel slouched into the warm water again. Still panting, it took a moment before he opened his eyes. Spike had never let go of that beautiful, tortured cock. He held onto it protectively, lovingly. And when it stopped quivering in his hand, he slipped his fingers down around Angel's still full balls and massaged them deeply. This brought another volley of moans, but their quality was very different. This was a grateful sound of pleasure.

"Ooooh . . . that's nice . . ." Angel sighed. "That's just what I need . . ."

"I see that." Spike rested his head on his other hand on the edge of the tub and continued his gentle massage. Angel's legs relaxed but stayed open and his taut belly glistened with soap, semen, sweat and water.

"I gather it's been awhile."

Angel looked at him through slitted eyes. "You have no idea."

Smiling sympathetically, Spike said, "I don't want to know, either. But . . . you know I'll look after you. Especially that way. I'll sort you out before the night's through, if you'll let me."

Wearily, Angel said, "I remember . . . I could always count on you for as many orgasms as I could stand."

"And then some," Spike grinned proudly. "I recall a few times I had you begging me to stop." He rinsed the soap off his hands then reached for the faucet handles. "Now is probably a good time to wash your hair. Will you sit up for me?"

"In a minute," Angel said with another deep, contented sigh. "My legs don't work right now."

Spike chuckled. "I'm just getting started, pet. You'd better keep up your strength." He touched the wound Angel made on his neck the night before. "Fancy a little taste?"

When the brunette focused on the deep abrasion, he frowned. "Jesus . . . I did that?"

"You were a bit ravenous," Spike reminded him. "And not quite as much yourself as you are tonight. It's no bother, it'll heal. But since it's there, you might as well use it. I mean," he lowered his voice to a deep, seductive purr. "If you're feelin' peckish."

Slowly, Angel shifted under the murky water and sat himself up. He reached down and felt for the chain attached to the drain plug, then pulled it letting the bath water out. Diluted dirt slid toward the drain and finally disappeared into it. Then he plugged the drain again and turned on the taps to refill the tub with clean water. Spike noted that the temperature of the new water was much hotter than it was originally-a sure sign that Angel was feeling chilled and hadn't fed enough.

"Do you want me to get you someone?" Spike asked.

"No," Angel said tersely. "And stop asking me that."

"But, you'll drink from me?"

His dark eyes fluttered a bit sheepishly. "Yes. But," he offered a tiny almost playful smile. "I like this hair washing idea. Do that first."

Sighing, Spike breathed a laugh. "Oh, that's right," he teased. "Be all bossy. That's the Angel I know and love." He moved around the tub until he was sitting near the top of it, then he had to think for a minute. Spike remembered using a china pitcher when he'd washed Drusilla's hair in that tub. Where the hell was that thing? Before he could begin looking, Angel slid down into the fresh bath water and submerged himself until only his nose was above the surface.

Spike shrugged. "Well, that'll work, too." Reaching for the little shampoo bottle, he poured the fragrant liquid into his hand and lathered it up while he waited for Angel to surface again.

When the brunette resumed his seated position, his hair was soaked and clinging to his head. Spike slid his fingers into that thick, straight hair, working the shampoo into rich suds. He took his time, enjoying the sensation. Angel rarely let anyone touch his hair since he started wearing it short and it had always been something Spike missed from the old days. He could feel as well as see the bits of gravel, dried blood and dirt coming up in the lather as he scrubbed and the sight of it upset him deeply. Where had Angel been and how long was he there? Time was always different in demon dimensions and Spike had a good idea that his sire had grown considerably older wherever he'd been held captive.

He couldn't ask, though. Angel had made it clear he didn't want to talk about his little trip to Club Med in Hell. Not yet, anyway.

Sighing, Angel relaxed against the side of the tub and let Spike massage his head with the soap. "That's great," he murmured, dark eyes sliding closed.

Leaning forward, Spike put two soft kisses on Angel's smooth, wet shoulder, just below the neck. He wished he could offer more affection, but didn't think Angel was ready for that. Sexual release, yes-emotional connection, well . . . not just yet. Maybe after the bath.

For a long time, Spike went on with his soft scrubbing, taking care to use long, smooth strokes to increase the pleasure. After a while, Angel cleared his throat a bit and spoke again.

"I remember seeing you . . ." he said softly. "At Buffy's school . . ."

Spike remembered that, too. Not happily, but he remembered. "Yeah? That was a while ago. About a year. Well, here it was a year."

Apparently not wanting to deal with the time issue, he went on. "I was . . . actually . . . really happy to see you then," Angel said, his words slow from relaxation. Suds floated on the clean, steaming water, framing his naked body like greedy little clouds. "I missed you. I bet you don't believe that."

Pursing his lips, Spike's brow knit. "I'd missed you, too. But I could tell . . . there was something off about you. You were lying to me-right into my eyes. Bastard."

"You were being really . . . naughty."

"Peaches, naughty is what I do. It's my M.O. I'm really bleedin' good at it, too, in case you don't recall that." Very carefully, he used the lather to clean some dried blood off Angel's earlobe. The small bit of flesh was so silky, Spike wanted to suck on it. Angel had lots of suckable, silky parts. "I learned all the finer points of naughty from you, Angelus. My wicked, wonderful Yoda. I was so bloody pissed off at you that day. So unbelievably disappointed." Spike frowned intensely, then shook his head to clear it. "Why did you mention that, anyway? Was ages ago."

"Why did we . . ." the brunette began and already Spike didn't like the direction his tone indicated. "Why did the four of us split up . . . in the first place?"

"The curse, Angel. Your soul," he said. "You ran off because you were feeling all guilty and didn't want to play with us lot anymore. Darla was a wreck for months."

Angel was quiet for a long time and then he went on. "When did you and Dru leave her?"

"She left us. When we got to New York. We had no idea where she'd gone-she was just . . . one day, she was just gone." He stroked Angel's soapy head again with both hands, feeling for any dirt remaining in that lush dark hair. "She was gone, that is, until she showed up here in beautiful, downtown Sunny D. I heard about all that from some vamps in a pub in London. The way you offed her. The way you dusted her for the favor of the slayer."

"That's not why," Angel growled and then he slipped out of Spike's grasp and down into the water. He shook his head back and forth to rinse out the soap, then he sat up again, pulling himself out of the bath with his hands on the sides of the tub.

"Oh come on, now. Don't go off in a huff," Spike said, keeping his tone gentle, patient. "I told you we don't have to talk if you don't want to. No sense gettin' all upset."

Glistening with water, Angel grabbed for a towel hanging on the wall. He shook the dust out of it then pressed it to his face, standing there in the center of the bathroom for a long time. Spike stood up and pulled the drain plug, then he approached Angel cautiously. He tugged gently at the towel.

"Come on," he said. "Give it here." He tugged a bit harder and Angel let the towel go.

"That's not why," the brunette said again, but his tone was considerably calmer. "I killed Darla because of . . . reasons that had nothing to do with Buffy." He sighed heavily and brought his hands to his face, speaking through his wet fingers. "You weren't there, Spike. You don't know what happened. I wish I didn't remember."

"No," Spike said quietly, taking the towel and rubbing it lightly across Angel's wet neck and shoulders. "I wasn't there. And, no-I don't know what all I'm on about. So, let's not talk about it. I don't want to upset you, Angel. For once, that's not why I'm here."

Angel sighed and lowered his hands, visibly relaxing as Spike carefully dried his back and shoulders and squeezed the water out of his hair. Moving around the front, the younger vampire spread his fingers wide under the soft terry cloth and stroked it over Angel's broad chest to collect the drops of water. When he brushed the towel over Angel's nipples, they hardened instantly.

Spike lifted his eyebrows with an impish grin. "So sensitive, peaches," he whispered, leaning forward with the tip of his pink tongue outstretched just enough to cover Angel's left nipple. He licked the tight bit of flesh in slow, teasing circles before taking it into his mouth and sucking on it. Angel's skin tasted sweet from the bath and Spike closed his eyes.

Knowing his cantankerous mentor loved the sound of sucking, Spike played it up intentionally by keeping his lips loose and his mouth nice and wet. Still rubbing Angel's wet tummy with the towel, he curled his fingers around the outside of the fabric so his skin touched Angel's right below his navel and then he switched sides and went to work sucking the right nipple.

Angel whispered an irresolute protest. "I shouldn't do this."

Still circling that tight nipple with his tongue, Spike looked up into those half-mast dark eyes. "Why is that?" he murmured.

"Because . . . you're gonna get me in trouble, Spike. You always do. If Buffy finds you . . . " He trailed off with a deep sigh as Spike chuckled and continued his wet pleasure attack on that nummy nipple.

He knew it would work. It always did. As long as Spike made it perfectly clear that he was there to please the grouchy bastard, he always managed to get Angel on his back eventually. His recent arrival from Hell aside, Angel had clearly returned with all his sensual human weaknesses unscathed.

"She'll kill you," he said almost under his breath.

"No, she won't," Spike told him. "You shouldn't let that worry you, luv. The little girl isn't gonna find me here."

Angel looked in his eyes a bit coolly. "Believe me when I tell you it isn't wise to underestimate her. She hates you and if she finds you here-anywhere near ME, especially-she'll dust you, Spike. I promise."

He took Angel's still damp hand and guided him out of the bathroom. "Oh, I have no doubt of that, mate. But the difference here, is that I do not choose to be found. Not this time. So, let's just forget about her for a bit, all right?" He winked over his shoulder as he lead Angel across the hall.

Sighing, Angel said, "you're still a whole fuck of a lot of trouble."

Spike only chuckled.

Once in his old bedroom, Angel relaxed somewhat. The familiar surroundings seemed to have a much needed calming effect. He went to the bed and stretched across it, moving the slightly dusty covers aside so he could get under them. Spike leaned against the mattress and smiled down at the brunette as he fluffed the pillows and made himself comfortable.

"So?" Spike said. "Are you inviting trouble into your bed, or not?"

Rolling onto his back under the soft red velvet blankets, Angel reached his arms up until he touched the brass headboard. Wrapping his long fingers around the bars, he looked at Spike with an odd mixture of resignation and desire. "Only if trouble can make himself useful."

By way of an answer, Spike slipped off his t-shirt, then unbuckled his belt and wriggled quickly out of his black jeans. He was good at getting naked in seconds flat. In fact, that was one of many skills he'd learned years ago from Angel.

Crawling over the mattress like a big cat, Spike straddled Angel and grinned hungrily down at him. "Why don't you have a taste? Warm you up a bit." He lowered his body until their chests touched, then wiggled his hips until their cocks touched, then slid his legs down until the hairs on their thighs flirted and intermingled. His neck stretched out gracefully right in front of Angel's pretty mouth and Spike presented the wounded spot like a fancy entree. "Go on, then. Have a bite."

"You can't wait for me to bite you," Angle growled, but his tone was playful. "You're absolutely DYING for me to bite you."

Spike chuckled, inwardly terribly happy to have Angel teasing him again. "So, do it, daddy . . . don't make me wait . . ." He stretched his neck out even more, trying to make the ragged wound irresistible. For encouragement, he rubbed his stiffening cock against Angel's and grinned when the brunette sighed with pleasure.

With no further ado, Angel raised up just a bit and exposed his fangs over the wound he'd already made the night before. That time, the puncture was quick and sharp-clean, like the old days-like the old Angel. The teeth were in, the blood began to run and then Angel was suckling like a baby. Spike's cock leaked.

Tickling fingers of sensation stroked every inch of Spike's skin as Angel's throat worked noisily to swallow the mouthfuls of blood. He was taking a lot, but Spike didn't care. It felt too wonderful, too familiar and safe, for him to complain. Instead, he braced his weight on his knees and elbows and began to slowly pump his hips, rubbing their swollen cocks together. They seemed to reach for each other in the tight space between their bellies-hard, moist organs full of nerve endings, sparking and tingling, growing and needing.

*****
Part 4:

Abruptly, Angel stopped sucking and laid his head down on the pillows again. Spike looked at him with slightly blurry eyes, then blinked curiously.

"You can have more, if you want."

Angel shook his head, licking Spike's dark, glistening blood from his lips. "You know what I want," he whispered.

Grinning, Spike brushed his nose against Angel's a few times, nuzzling him like a puppy. Then he wet his lips and covered Angel's mouth with his own, slowly slipping his tongue into a welcoming kiss. They both sighed from the contact and it was only then that Spike realized that was the first time they'd kissed since Angel had been back.

With that knowledge in mind, Spike made it last, savoring the sweet stroking of tongues and pressing of lips until the pleasure of it drove them both to panting.

"Please . . ." Angel breathed, eyes closed, chest heaving. "Please, William . . . I need to feel you . . ."

Moving back on the bed, Spike rested on his bent knees and began stroking Angel's naked thighs very softly. The fine hairs felt like kitten fur to the touch and he couldn't wait to feel them against his face. Leaning forward, he puckered his lips loosely then began a slow trail of kisses down the inside of Angel's right thigh.

Those long legs parted wantonly and Angel's fingers gripped the bed posts. He tensed all over and the muscles in his lean, flat belly came into lovely relief. Biting his bottom lip, he closed his eyes. Angel's toes curled.

Spike watched all this with a great deal of pleasure and pride, knowing he had always been the only one capable of making Angel's toes do that. He'd witnessed his sire in hundreds of sexual conquests, but the curling toes belonged solely to him. Spike had the devilish, magic touch.

Continuing his kisses, he switched to the other thigh, taking time to rub his nose into the fluffy hairs that still smelled of the lavender bath soap. He could feel Angel trembling as though he were being tickled, but Spike knew better. He was trembling from need and this was no time to prolong the foreplay.

He spread his hands gently on Angel's hips, stroking his thumbs down beneath the brunette's full, tight balls. Looking up into Angel's desperate eyes, he whispered, "open for me . . . all the way . . ." and pressed those tense thighs flat against the mattress.

Wiggling down further, Spike laid on his belly between Angel's open legs. With his fingertips, he lightly stroked the feathery hairs on Angel's balls and just below. This was the yummy spot-Spike's favorite spot. He put soft kisses on the silky curves of flesh that protected the most secret part of Angel's body and then he slipped his tongue between those delectable cheeks. His nose nudged Angel's balls gently as he carefully licked the satiny crevice leading to the anus. A few laps was all he could get in before the big Irish lad began to whine.

"Please . . . I can't . . . please . . . I'm too close . . . too full . . . just . . . get IN there . . ."

Trying to contain his obvious enjoyment of torturing Angel with pleasure, Spike put one more affectionate, appreciative kiss on those soft, peachy cheeks and then he sat back up on his knees. "I know, baby . . . I'm here for ya." He reached into a drawer in the night table and felt inside with his fingers, knowing he would find what he was after in there. A little more searching and his fingers landed on the little bottle of lube Angel always kept there. Spike took it out, flipped the lid and dripped a generous amount down over those luscious balls. He watched with boyish fascination as the slick liquid followed the contours of Angel's body and lubricated the soft pink crack and that almost virginal looking hole. Oh my-the boy was going to tight. Spike licked his lips, then squeezed a few drops of lube on to the tip of his jutting erection. Again, he watched the liquid slide down the engorged member, mix with his pre-ejaculate and land in glittering little pools in his curly pubic hair.

Setting the bottle aside, but still within reach just in case, he hooked Angel's legs behind the knees with his hands and pushed up until the brunette's hips lifted off the mattress.

"You ready, pet?"

Angel only nodded, his chest rising and falling rapidly. Again, his toes crunched up on either side of Spike's ears.

Up on his knees, hips flat and forward, Spike watched with rapt attention as Angel reached down between his legs and guided Spike's straining erection to its mark. All that lubrication had them connected in no time, even though Spike had wanted to savor the penetration just a little. Angel had other plans. His desire was far too great for any delicate techniques that night.

Gripping the rumpled blankets with his long fingers, Angel's body clenched around Spike's cock, squeezing it, rubbing it, holding it greedily and not letting go. That was all fine with Spike. As soon as he was inside, he was instantly awash with pleasure. He sighed and groaned deep in his gut, keeping a tight hold on Angel's legs as they began to ride each other.

Memories crashed all around him as the sensations gathered rapidly-memories not of the four of them back when times were good, but of him and Angel when they had been alone together. Spike recalled a thousand times he and his beautiful sire had gone hunting together and ended up shagging like rabbits in a dark alley somewhere, the intensity of the given kill enflaming their hunger for each other. He remembered the sounds Angel always made right before he came. His moans would deepen to growls and then rise and rise until their sound was almost feminine, and then he would hold his breath at the moment itself. He would freeze and hold big lungfuls of breath his vampire body didn't need while the contractions racked his body like a storm.

The crescendo of those pleasure sounds was so fresh in his memory, so close to him then, that he barely realized he was hearing it in reality. Spike had nearly been in a trance as he continued to drive his cock into Angel's starving hole and then he was brought suddenly back to the moment by his partner's vehemence. He looked down just in time to see Angel's back arch and all the muscles in his torso contract. That big, swollen cock convulsed and erupted blood-creamy seed in long blasts across Angel's belly, over and over and over. It seemed impossible that so much fluid could be coming out of him, but there it was. Spike's own orgasm, although keening and deep, clearly paled by comparison.

As the contractions melted away, Spike moved to pull out, but Angel stopped him with a hand on his belly.

"No," he said, still gasping. "Just . . . stay there. I need you to do it again."

Spike smiled and tilted forward for some more kissing, taking care not to sever their tight, hard-earned bond.

**************

Angel:

There had been so much pleasure. Everything was a pleasure. After such a long period of agony and deprivation, even the deep, raw soreness in his anus was a pleasure.

He'd begged Spike to fuck him four times in a row and the lithe blonde had obliged with great enthusiasm. So willing to please, he was. He'd always been like that when the two of them were alone. The memories he had of being with Spike were the clearest of all-the most complete of all his recollections. He knew he should share that with the boy, tell him how much he appreciated all his efforts to bring Angel back to full strength, but he was unlikely to do so. In among all those other memories of Spike, Angel also remembered how much the young one wanted them to be together. He wanted it more than anything-had said as much many times. His body said it every time they touched. His eyes said it with every glance.

But being together was impossible. No sense making it harder on him. That didn't mean they couldn't enjoy what time they had now. However long that may be.

With his body aching all over from sexual exertion, Angel still couldn't sleep. Spike lay beside him on his belly, his pale skin almost translucent in the lamplight. He was motionless as stone because he wasn't breathing, but he still looked like a fresh teenage boy when he slept. Thick lashes, lush lips parted softly in relaxation. Beautiful.

Glancing out the bedroom door into the hallway, Angel could see the faint gray of the dawn spilling in through the mansion's high windows. Buffy would be back soon. That meant Spike had to get out of sight.

Shifting on the bed just enough to rouse the sleeping blond boy, Angel waited until those blue eyes focused on him. Groggily, Spike rolled closer to him, snuggling and attempting to go back to sleep. Angel kissed his forehead and Spike looked at him again.

"Wha'?"

"She'll be here soon. You did say you weren't going be found."

Spike groaned and turned over on his back. "Oh, right. The girl with the pointy sticks. Forgot about her, I did." He forced himself to sit up and then walked across the room to grab his clothes. As he headed for the bedroom door, he glanced back over his shoulder. "Don't forget to make your hair stick up like you do. I'm sure you left some of that nancy-boy hair gel around here somewhere. She likes you all ponced up like you just walked out of a sodding magazine." He chuckled. "See you later, peaches. Oh, and make sure you eat what she brings you. She needs to feel like she's the one brought you back to thriving unlife."

Angel frowned as he listened to Spike open that secret door and slip down the stairs into the converted wine cellar. He knew the young one was right about most of that. Buffy did need to believe she saved him. It was the only way she could forgive herself for killing him.

***************

Buffy:

He's dressed when I get there. Bathed, coifed and dressed. Crisp khaki pants, a soft caramel sweater, comfy looking brown suede shoes. He actually did his hair. He looks beautiful. He looks like Angel.

"Wow," I say, smiling. I sit down across from him on the couch. "I guess the shower works."

He smiles back, but weakly. "Yeah," he says. "But I had a bath instead. How are you?"

I shrug, thinking how bad could I be, really? I'm not the one who just came back from Hell. "Good," is all I say, though.

I'm holding a bag with another cup of pig's blood in it. The guy at the butcher's is so used to me, he's started to have the blood waiting for me when I come by after school. "The usual?" he snarks. Everyone's a comedian.

I hand it to him and he takes the cup out, looking at it for a moment like he might drink it then and there. But he doesn't. Maybe he thinks it'll gross me out or something, which-by now, he should know better. For whatever reason, he sets it aside on the table.

Now that he seems himself, I don't know what to say. I want to tell him about Scott but I don't know if it's the best moment. I want to tell him that my life is going fine. I want to tell him I'm being careful when I patrol. I want to tell him that I love him but I can't be with him because being with him drives me completely insane-and because I'm with Scott. I want to tell him everything I've rehearsed for the last few months, because somehow . . . I knew I'd see him again and get to speak to him again and . . . I want-

--to stop the hamster wheel in my brain for two seconds. Jeeze.

I notice a book on the couch beside him. It's a nice book, old and leather bound. Pretty gold spine. From where I'm sitting, I can see the embossed letters: The Complete Works of Edgar Allan Poe.

"Poe, no less," I say. "How very goth of you."

This would have made him laugh before, but today . . . he barely smiles. He looks so much better, but he seems . . . so incredibly sad.

There's a marker sticking out of the book and I reach for it, opening to the page. It's a poem-one I remember reading in grade school. "Anabel Lee". When I look up, his beautiful eyes are all cloudy with nostalgia. His body is there, but his mind is far, far away.

"Is this one of your favorites?" I ask softly, hoping to bring him back.

He blinks, sitting forward on the couch so he can take the book. He holds it open in his right hand and I see that his nails have been cut and cleaned. Seeing that makes me feel sad because I wish I could have been the one to do it. I love Angel's hands.

"I met him once," he tells me.

My turn to blink. "Edgar Allan Poe?" I say, all incredulous. "Wow. What was he like?"

He breathes a laugh. "Like a drunken poet spouting tall tales in a bar. I only spoke to him because I knew who he was. I wanted to hear the story of this poem."

"Did he tell you?"

Angel shakes his head. "No, he was too drunk. Absinthe was his poison, like many other writers of that time. But he did recite it for me, from memory. That was pretty cool."

"Yeah," I say, finally realizing how cool it really was.

Angel looks down at the book again then, just like I hoped he would, he starts reading the poem outloud. Not the whole thing, just the second stanza. I figure that must be his favorite part.

"I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee . . ."

Again, his eyes cloud over and for a minute I'm afraid he might cry. He looks that sad. He closes the book and puts it on the couch beside him again, sitting back with his arms crossed over his chest. It's not a defensive posture, just a closed one. I start to think now might be a really good time to tell him about Scott, but then he starts talking again.

"An old friend made up a little tune to that verse," he says. "I always think of it whenever I even hear Poe's name."

"Can I hear it?" I say optimistically, knowing full well he won't sing for me.

He just smiles and shakes his head. "Trust me, it sounds much better in my head."

We both laugh a little.

Angel looks at me after a minute and it seems like he's going to say something-tell me something. But, then he just turns away. Suddenly, I feel like I should leave. Suddenly, I feel like my being there is making him sadder and that if I tell him about Scott right now, it will just devastate him. Suddenly, I'm afraid to be alone with him because I don't trust . . . myself.

I stand up and he looks at me curiously. "You just got here," he says.

"I know. But, I have . . . to be somewhere." It's not entirely a lie. Scott and I do have a date tonight-two hours from now. "Besides, you . . . seem like you want to be alone."

"I do?" he says, then he shakes his head. "No, I . . . I guess I'm just a little tired. I don't want you to go, Buffy."

Just hearing him say that makes me KNOW I have to get outta there. If he keeps looking at me like that, I'm gonna crawl right into his lap and never stop kissing him. That wouldn't be good. Not at all appropriate behavior for another guy's girlfriend.

Instead, I just smile and look at my watch. "I'll come back tomorrow. I promise." I take a chance and bend over him cautiously, putting a little kiss on his smooth, cold cheek.

He touches my hand softly and gives me a small sad smile. "I'll see you later, then," he says. "Thanks for coming."

Feeling the tears well up, I give his hand a little squeeze then I get my tail out of there. I make it all the way to the street before I start running my eye make-up.

*************

Spike:

He found Angel sitting on the hearth in front of a big roaring blaze, a book open in his hand. That jumper was nice on him. The color reminded Spike of creamy, sticky confections.

"Top o' the evening, peaches," he said, patting his pockets for his smokes.

Angel looked up with a little smirk. "I still don't remember why you call me that. Just tell me."

Spike snickered as he poked a Morley between his lips. "Oh, all right, then. If you really don't remember."

"I really don't. And it's bugging me."

Snapping the big silver Zippo closed against his leg, Spike reached out and took the book out of Angel's hand. Poe, it was. He flipped open to the page his sire had been reading.

"Anabel Lee," Spike said wistfully. "I remember that. Darla made up that little tune . . . how was it . . ." He tilted his head and tried to hear their matriarch's bell-like soprano in his memory. She used to sing that poem all the time. It got stuck in Spike's head back then, just like those blighting fast food jingles did now. Suddenly, it was there-it just popped in-and he started singing.

"I was a child and she was a child,
In this kingdom by the sea:
But we loved with a love that was more than love--
I and my Annabel Lee."

When he looked down, Angel was staring into the fire and he realized he very much should NOT have done that. The brunette's expression was stricken with grief.

Spike sighed. "I'm sorry, luv. I wasn't thinking." He closed the book and set it on the hearth, then he sat down beside Angel and tried to get him to look up. After a long moment, he lifted Angel's chin on the end of his finger. "Come on, then. Stop brooding."

They looked at each other as the irony of the comment settled in and then they both laughed.

"That's better," Spike said, very relieved. He glanced out the window at the fresh night, thinking he should really get on the road if he was going to make any distance before dawn.

"Peaches?" Angel said, reminding him of their previous topic.

"Oh, right." Lowering his chin, Spike fluttered his eyebrows lasciviously. "You know how much I love licking you . . . all over, right?"

Angel nodded.

"Well . . ." He scooted so close that their legs and shoulders pressed together, then he reached gently down between the brunette's thighs and softly cupped his balls through his trousers. "Right back here," he said and he wiggled his fingertips so they brushed the spot in question. "Right where your lovely ass cheeks meet your lovelier balls, you are so . . . incredibly . . . soft. You've got this down of silky hair there . . . just like a peach, baby." He touched his lips to Angel's in a tender kiss that made them both shiver, then he smiled sweetly. "Hence, my little nickname for you."

Shaking his head, Angel said, "why don't I remember that?"

Crushing out his cigarette in a dusty ashtray on the sofa table, Spike chuckled. "Probably because the first time I called you that, you were drunk as a bleedin' whore. Now that I think about it, I'd bet you don't remember anything about that particular night. But I do. And I'll never tell."

They were both laughing then and Spike thought that was as good a time as any to take his leave.

"Well, I'm off, then," he said.

Angel blinked. "You're kidding."

He waved his hand dismissively. "You're doing fine, luv. The little girl can look after you from here. When you're feeling a hundred percent, come and visit Dru and me. It's nice down there in Brazil. You'll love it. Lots of evil varmints to chase."

The brunette was still just looking at him, but his expression was crumpling slowly.

"Angel, you don't need me anymore."

"I don't?" he said and his tone made Spike want to scream. But he had to stick to his plan. Angel would only get back on his feet if he was left to fend for himself. That's how they always cared for each other. That's just the way it was.

"You don't," he concluded. Taking a reflexive deep breath, he walked back over to where Angel sat and leaned down to kiss that luscious mouth again. That time, he lingered and savored the familiar texture and scent of his sire's skin.

Standing up, he winked playfully. "Come see us soon, all right. Drusilla'll bake a cake. As long as you don't mind a few flies and frog eyes in it, that is. Never been much of a baker, that girl." He turned on his heel, knowing he had to leave right then or he might never leave at all.

At the door, he glanced back and found Angel still sitting on the hearth. But those dark golden eyes were fixed on him-fixed and penetrating, seeming to try to nail him to the floor so he couldn't go.

"I told you to stop brooding, didn't I?" Spike teased gently.

After a long moment, Angel's lips tilted in a faint, reluctant smile. "Sure," he said. "I'll get right on that."

With one more wink, Spike slipped out the door and into that sweet jasmine-scented evening, wondering if he could make it back to Dru in three night's time. Shouldn't leave her alone too long. Her being so naughty and all.

the end.