Angel�s hand came up in an automatic, dismissive gesture, but when his eyes settled on Spike, it sank to the desk. He blinked. �It�s my making day.�
Numbers hovered silently in the air between them, ticking upwards. Spike arched an eyebrow. �So? Vampires aren�t big on anniversaries, far as I know...My knowledge of the old traditions might be a bit patchy- Dru wasn�t much for teaching- but I know that much.�
�Dru wasn�t much for teaching because I never taught her anything.� Angel stared vaguely out his window. �Fell down on my duties as a sire.�
�You fostered me now and again,� Spike said, unsure why he suddenly felt the urge to comfort his grandsire, when usually he preferred to twist any knives he could find.
�Not really.� Angel�s voice had gone dreamy, his gaze inward. �Half-trained Penn...let Dru run wild...sent Lawson away without a word...and all the ones I made just to send a message and get staked by the Slayer.� His lips curved into something that never was a smile. �Darla was a good teacher. She did her job thoroughly. Of course, she was training me for the Master�s court, and the old man was positively fixated on ritual and tradition.�
Spike nodded, recalling his own single meeting with the Master- very old, as he recalled, very pale- and wondered with growing unease just what that note was in Angel�s voice.
�So no, Spike, anniversaries aren�t traditionally important.� He was suddenly in motion, pacing restlessly around the room. �But something about today has Angelus stirring. Stretching.� He was in front of Spike now, very close, staring down into his eyes. �Straining to get out.�
Spike swallowed hard. He�d presented himself as a badass for 100 years or more, but what they were before death went into what they became after. And there had never been any question between William and Liam, between Spike and Angelus, as to who was the alpha male. Who was the boss. Who had more to swing, more backing up any punch he threw. The older vampire radiated command, it seeped from his skin. Where Spike had to claw and fight and make gory examples to command anyone but Harmony and fresh-made idiots, everyone fell silent and obedient in line behind Angelus. Except for Darla, but the alpha bitch always trumps all...
The look in Angel�s eyes now was one Spike hadn�t seen for a very long time. But just like that last time, his knees were quivering, his palms were sweaty, and he couldn�t summon his game face if he tried. His body knew he was subordinate, and acted accordingly in utter defiance of his brain. It remembered how this little play always ran.
�Angel,� Spike said carefully, fighting to keep his voice steady, �think about this. Think about how you�ll feel tomorrow, when Angelus falls back again. The guilt, the regret��
�The guilt only comes from having hurt the unwilling.� Angel moved forward in a slow, graceful, leonine swagger, and Spike felt a shiver run up his spine. This was Angelus; his body remembered, even if his mind continued to stutter in disbelief. They were pressed together now, Spike�s back to the wall, Angel�s hips grinding against him too slowly, painfully. �So why would I have to feel guilty here, Spike, when you always wanted it?� Warm nuzzling against his neck; Angel was fresh-fed and humming with blood. �You always loved the hurting. Must be something Dru passed along, you never got anywhere with her until you made her scream.�
Spike wanted to whimper, to cry out, to beg. But his throat was closed and his body paralyzed by memory. All his senses remembered how it went when Daddy wanted to play. And the glow in Angel�s eyes now was the one he remembered, the one that meant playtime was now.
He moved up against Spike, rubbing the lengths of their bodies together, and pressed his lips to Spike�s mouth in a demanding kiss. Spike gave into it reflexively, his brain filling with white noise as his body danced to the memorized tune. One of Angel�s hands dropped down, caught one of Spike�s, brought it up between their chests. Hands pressed together by chests that didn�t vibrate with heartbeat.
Angel broke the kiss and brought his head back for a moment, smiling brightly with malevolence and anticipation. He leaned in for another kiss, and Spike could feel the changes against his own skin as his grandsire went into game face and slashed his tongue with fangs. Warm blood filled both their mouths.
Angel�s hand writhed between their chests. He caught one of Spike�s fingers and bent it back to the wrist until they both felt the muffled snap. Spike hissed in pain, lips peeling back from Angel�s, but he didn�t pull away.
Break away again, another twisted smile, another kiss, and now Angel brought his knee up and nudged Spike�s legs apart until they were shoulder-width. Spike�s shoulders were pressed back into the wall, his hips moved forward to balance in the bizarre three-point position Angel wanted. He moved deeper into his mind, letting the memories guide the motions of his lips and tongue- the only parts Angel wanted to move, right now. Another finger bent and snapped, and he groaned into his grandsire�s mouth. Angel chuckled in return.
��Sfun, Spike,� he sighed, licking gently along Spike�s cheekbone, then grazing it with a fang. He could feel blood running down his face, but kept his eyes closed. Angel�s knee moved again, now pressing up against Spike�s crotch. He groaned in pain again as Angel started grinding his knee against the soft flesh and kissing him again, hard and demanding. Pain in his cock, pain in his hand, pain in his mouth�Angel wanted to mark him everywhere. �Don�t pretend this isn�t fun. I know you.�
He kept silent, darting his tongue out to touch Angel�s lips and draw him into another kiss. Better kissing than talking, because talking meant thinking, and when Angelus had leisure to think things inevitably got worse.
The relentless grinding pressure against his cock was enough friction to work despite the pain, . He groaned again as he felt himself getting hard. Angel pulled back, laughed, and jerked his knee upward. Stars exploded behind Spike�s eyes.
Angel took a slight step back for a moment, running fingers through his hair. Spike remained in his odd but balanced stance, panting a little and dizzy with pain that was already faded as the demon began its healing, still half-hard and unhappily aware that the game had only just begun. Angel smiled that cocky little grin again and leaned in, casually placing his forearm across Spike�s throat. He rested his chin on it and spoke a half-inch from Spike�s face, but no air stirred. Even the body�s reflexive breathing, the habit that lingered for centuries, had subsided with Angelus�s rising.
�I missed you so much,� he murmured, catching the hand he�d already started breaking and cradling it like a wounded bird. �No one bends like you, William, not without breaking. All these years of being good, of locking the dark away and calling it by another name�I still dreamed of you. Bending and bending no matter how hard I tried to break��
Snap. And the pressure on his throat grew and grew as Angel steadily leaned in closer. Their noses were touching now. The demon had remembered that it didn�t need to breathe, so the pressure was incidental, but it made something in the base of memory and soul tremble. And the crushed windpipe Angel (Angelus? Did it even matter?) was building towards was going to hurt like hell.
His knee came up again, but this time he was deliberately slow and gentle, working for arousal instead of pain, knowing that the earlier jab made the pain inevitable. His other hand, the one not lovingly holding Spike�s broken one, dropped down between their chests and into the waistband of Spike�s pants, slipping down to join in making sure Spike�s cock ached in every way.
Another finger snapped. Angel�s forearm seemed about to join with Spike�s spine, or the wall behind him. The agony in his larynx turned his whole mind red, but oh, god, how he wanted to beg his grandsire for release�
He opened his eyes and found Angel staring back at him, an inch away. They stared into each others eyes as Spike whimpered and Angel brought him right up to the edge.
His windpipe collapsed and Angel snapped his thumb and he came, a sound like a sob crossing his lips- the demon didn�t need breath for sound, and oh how Angelus loved that, hearing his grandchilde scream underwater or around a noose- as he lost his precarious balance and fell, catching himself by pitching forward onto his knees. Angel stepped back and laughed again, a dark and rolling sound that had brought nightmares to the children of the Old World, releasing the broken hand and catching up the other one.
�Oh, well, if you insist,� he said, bringing Spike�s hand to the zipper of his pants. �Be my guest, William.�
His body remembered this, too, went to work without guidance from his mind, which was too full of starbursts of pain and color to think anyway. He guided Angel into his mouth and allowed his grandsire to take his hand away again, to hold it in his own like something fragile and precious. He set to work, telling himself the pain in his throat was an illusion, as Angel broke two fingers at once and laughed with childish glee.
Angel�s hand tightened around his, which hurt like every kind of hell, but he kept going, working his tongue over Angel�s cock like a professional. Angel groaned, low and dark and throaty. His body went stiff, and Spike felt relief run down his spine like ice water- he was almost there, he�d come and they�d be done with all this madness-
The punch snapped his head to the side so hard his vision went white for a minute. He sprawled on the floor, stunned, mumbling �What the fuck-� through his ruined throat, until Angel�s foot met his stomach with a vicious crunch- dear God, it crunched, his ribs must�ve shattered- and a stream of curses. A hand was in his hair, roughly gathering it up and dragging him to his feet, and he stared through blurred eyes as Angel punched him in the face again.
�William,� he snarled, still in human face- why was that more terrifying than game face would�ve been?- �you useless sack of shit...� Punch after punch, hammering into him, his face and his chest, nose and ribs popping softly under angry hands. �Why won�t you ever fucking leave, William? You keep coming back...can�t ever get rid of you, you�re always there, a shadow in my sleep, showing your face just when I think I�m rid of you, Liam...�
�Missed a syl�ble there, mate,� he mumbled around swelling lips and broken teeth when Angel paused to shake out his hand. His mind caught up a beat after his words.
Oh. So that�s what it was.
The beating resumed. �Useless...sniveling...weakling...� His head snapped back, left, right, and he let himself go loose and take it. A deathday present for his old grandsire...
No.
A gesture of compassion for his fellow traveler between worlds. A gift to the other vampire with a soul.
�I hate you,� and Angel was sobbing now as he pounded into Spike�s flesh, �I hate you so much, Liam, and I wish you�d stop haunting me and go away, I wish you�d just die...�
It took a lot for a vampire to be knocked unconscious, but Spike felt himself hovering on the edge, the teetering balance where everything shimmered with heat-haze.
�Be a good son for once in your miserable useless fucking life and die...�
He forced his eyes open and looked up, into the dark and teary depths of Angel�s own eyes. Angel hesitated, fist pausing in midair, staring down at him with blank shock.
�It�s al�righ�, father,� Spike said, easing the words slowly through his ruined mouth. �I forgive you.�
Horror dawned slowly on Angel�s face. He released Spike�s hair and took a step back, watching his grandchilde slump to the floor.
�I forgive you,� Spike repeated, bringing his twisted hands to his chest and feeling blood run down his fingers. He kept Angel�s gaze locked into his own. �You can let it go now.�
Angel sank slowly to his knees, tears running down his face, mouth gaping open as he looked at Spike. �I-,� he whispered. �I�m sorry...�
He pulled himself across the floor, slowly and carefully, ignoring the pain in his body as he came to Angel�s side. Gently, he pulled Angel�s head down to rest against his shoulder, curling his shattered fingers into the other vampire�s close-cut hair. He felt tears run down inside his duster collar and over his throat. ��Sall right,� he whispered, watching blood trickle from his fingers and onto Angel�s skin. �You�re forgiven, and you can rest...�
He didn�t know how long they�d sit there, bleeding and crying in the dark. He could wait. He had time. They both did.
They�d never thought, all these years watching Angel struggle to get rid of Angelus. They�d never thought that there was someone else inside him refusing to die. Someone that both halves of the vampire would love to kill. A fragile human ghost of a weak and foolish boy.
Spike knew something about that, after all.
So he�d wait here as long as Angel needed him, through this strange and twisted day and night, until the dead went back to rest again.
Feedback is the sweetest gift.
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