Pet (pet_23) wrote in just_a_girl_fic,
Pet
pet_23
just_a_girl_fic

Writing the Way to Love A/S NC-17 Ats

Another old story. Give it a go if you want. Let me know what you think.

Broke up in two parts heres the first.

TITLE: Writing the Way to Love
AUTHORS: Pet and Salustra
PAIRING: Angel/Spike (w/ references to
Angelus/Spike)
SUMMARY: Future-fic. About 30 plus years
after Season 5 AtS, Angel goes to look up Spike,
who has written a book about their early years
together.
SPOILERS: Through Season 5 AtS


TITLE: Writing the Way to Love
AUTHORS: Pet and Salustra
PAIRING: Angel/Spike (w/ references to
Angelus/Spike)
SUMMARY: Future-fic. About 30 plus years
after Season 5 AtS, Angel goes to look up Spike,
who has written a book about their early years
together.
SPOILERS: Through Season 5 AtS
DISCLAIMER: We don’t own any of these
characters; they belong to Joss and ME. We really
wish we could borrow Spike and Angel for a little
while though.
FEEDBACK: Yes please. It’s like good drugs.
E-MAILS:
Pet: spikespet2001@yahoo.com
Salustra: goddess_salustra@juno.com
***
Angel fidgets again and turns the book in his
hands. He is in first class and he has a huge seat,
plenty of space, but he still feels uncomfortable,
like all eyes are on him and everyone one of them
know. He turns the book again and glances at the
cover 'Childe: One Vampires Tale'. Then he sighs
and opens the cover to the inside. No picture of
the author, of course -- creates mystery.
But Angel knows exactly who wrote this book
and when he traces over the author’s name with
his finger, he can't help feel a bit nostalgic and
wistful. Closing the book he sets it on his lap and
drinks another sip of the whiskey he ordered. The
lady next to him taps the book.
"Oh that’s that Vampire book that everyone’s
raving about. Is it any good? I heard the author--
oh, what is his name? William Banner is a
creative man with a flair for words and
description. And the way he has the described the
romantic relationship between the two men is just
breathtaking."
Angel just smiles some afraid if he grins too wide
or looks too shifty he will give something away.
"Uhmm, yeah it is a really telling book he makes
it all believable."
With that the lady nods and goes back to reading
her magazine and Angel slumps down further in
his seat. He was on his way to New Orleans. He
had someone by the name of William Banner to
see.
Spike sits at his typewriter. He knows exactly
how far the sunlight will penetrate and his desk is
set just past that. That way he can watch the sun
all day as he types. He looks up to see Aurora
coming in. She is the spitting image of her
mother. There was a tiny pang at that...Dawn had
died so young, only 40, when Aurora was only
11. He had watched out for her because her father
had died in an accident three years before that.
Now Aurora was 21, and tall and beautiful like
her mother at that age.
Aurora hops in and places a big stack of mail on
Spikes desk and plops in a seat tying her shoes.
"Looky, looky Will! More fan mail-- go you. I
was getting the car started and saw them lying by
the box. Thought you might want them you big
famous writer you."
Spike grins. "It's likely just more naked pictures
of women wanting me, naked pictures of men
wanting me, and vampire groupies wanting me to
put them in touch with 'real' vampires. I wonder if
Anne Rice got this sort of fan mail."
Aurora giggles and nods. "Man yeah I wonder.
She had a big following and your fans have no
idea what you look like—since, no picture to go
with the name. “Maybe I should go to class,
advertise you’re my surrogate whatever-you-are
and then charge money for guys and gals to peep
on ya while you’re in the shower." Aurora smiles
wide. "I don't get the appeal but that’s ‘cause
you’re Will to me. But, hey, naked goodness is
naked goodness. Can I peek at your mail?"
"Peek at the naked pictures? No, you're still too
young. What are you---sixteen or seventeen?
Don't want to get in trouble for corrupting a
minor..."
Aurora throws a letter at Spike and laughs. "Pain!
Okay, I have to go to class. Can't learn how to
teach kids if I don't learn myself right?" She
stands up, leans over the desk, and kisses Spike’s
cheek. "Now you be a good souled vampire while
I'm gone and create words of beauty and
substance." She walks to the door and stops,
turning around, smiling softly. "Mom would’ve
loved your book. She always made you tell your
stories, so this would’ve made her lifetime. I'll
see you later. I love ya." And she walks out of the
room.
"Love you, niblet." Spike sits alone in the room
after she has gone. He watches the sun crawl
along the floor. He has come to love it since he
has taken care of Aurora. It reminds him of her.
He goes over, fixes himself a mug of blood, and
sits down to think. He knows perfectly well that
he will accomplish almost nothing today. It's his
birthday...well, his second birthday...the day of
his rebirth. It always makes him nostalgic. It was
this same day three years ago that he decided to
write his book. He was facing Aurora going off to
college, an empty, lonely house, and the idea just
came to him---write the story. His rebirth, his
struggles, his loves... especially his loves. He had
gotten an old-fashioned typewriter...they still
made them, after all this time... and had gone to
work on dredging up everything and concealing
just enough to make it seem like fiction.
He wondered, as he did every year this time,
where they where... what was left of his vampire
family. As far as he knew Dru was still causing
havoc, but he hadn't known her whereabouts in
over 20 years. Angel---always Angel. He was still
in LA, still running his evil law firm. Spike hadn't
seen him or heard from him in over 30 years, not
since he took off to find Buffy and got there only
in time to see her die and to take Dawn under his
wing. They had hidden in New Orleans, and
Spike had stayed away from Angel on principle,
not daring to bring more attention on Dawn than
was needed.
He wondered, idly, if Angel had read his book.
Not likely, as the old fossil never kept up with
pop culture---other than Manilow---of course.
Spike himself absorbed it...he watched TV, went
to movies, read books, listened to music. He
loved the brightness, vitality, and freshness of the
world. Now, much to his amusement, he was part
of pop culture himself. He was working on a
sequel to his first book, but wasn't quite sure
where to go with it. He couldn't tell what really
happened...the times span was getting too close to
modern and facts could be checked. He'd have to
use a *lot* of creative license this time.
Something clicked, and he sat up and started
typing. Maybe not a total loss of the day, just this
once....
Two flight changes later and skimming through
the book thirteen times---the one he had read over
thirty times already---and Angel was here, New
Orleans. He picked up his two pieces of luggage
and clicked open his cell. "Hey how’s things?
That’s good. Listen, the Forthwak Demon doesn't
like any odd smells so, no perfumes or colognes.
Just get him in get the treaty signed and get him
out. Don't let anyone near him that can set him off
by weird smells. They think that stuff is a
personal affront. Okay...good...just wanted to let
you know. No...I just got here. Yeah, just in time
for nighttime. Good booking. No, Sadi, the flight
was fine. No, I do not plan to tour. No, Sadi, I
have everything I need. Okay, okay talk to you
once I get there. Yes, yes I won't be too angry, I
promise. Alright bye."
Angel hangs up the cell and hails a cab to his
hotel. Once there he unpacks and sits on the bed
and looks at the book. Sighing and rubbing his
face he picks up the address, he acquired.
William M. Banner...1335 Terrance Avenue...
New Orleans. He twirls it around his fingers.
Standing up he undresses and decides-- a shower
first, then he will go see him. An hour later Angel
is showered and dressed in another suit with red
tie Sadi bought. She had decided he needed color
in his life. He could never argue with her she
reminded him of Cordy and Buffy-- blonde but
with intense attitude and fashion sense. He liked
her from the first interview for a new Secretary.
Getting in the cab, he gives the address. He sits
back with the book tapping on the cover. He
would’ve never found this book if it weren't for
Sadi. During a lunch break together, she was
reading it. She bought it when her best male
friend raved that it was the to-die-for vampire
novel.
He had made some comment about vampire
books never being like the real thing, and then
Sadi showed him the cover. He about died again.
He had grabbed it when he recognized Spike’s
name right away. He couldn't believe it, but then
he read it and he saw eighty shades of red. Then
he read it again and felt a intense need to bask in
a sort of afterglow of another person’s version of
their past… how Spike saw everything...how
Spike saw the two of them. The cab stops and he
pays and gets out. The house is huge and is
surrounded by trees. It's brick and old Victorian,
which makes him laugh to himself. Feeling
nervous, he walks slowly to the door. Pausing in
mid stride to the doorknocker, he composes
himself chanting the mantra Sadi taught him to
calm himself in stressful situations and then
pounds the knocker.
Spike is deep into typing when the knock comes.
The light is long gone and he is typing in soft
light from old-fashioned lamps. He sighs and
goes to the door. Probably tourists again. He
looks through the little spy-hole...and sees a
familiar brooding figure. If he were human, his
heart would be in his throat right now. He takes a
few deep breathes and opens the door, patented
smirk pasted on his features. "Hello, tall, dark,
and forehead. Imagine seeing you here. Come for
some gumbo? 'Cause I cook a mean gumbo now."
Angel tries for nonchalant and shrugs but feels
that’s too small in comparison. This is Spike but
not-- this is Spike but with William touches. He
looks the same but not Spike. Spike is wearing
glasses, for one. He always needed them when he
was a fledge, to read or write. People always
thought vampires improved when they turned but
that’s not the case. Also, his hair was a bit longer
but still platinum. He takes a deep breath and
simple holds up the book.
"Eloquent as always. Come to kick my ass for
writing our dirty little secrets? Come on inside."
He stands aside and makes a sweeping gesture.
Angel nods and walks in and looks around. " I
came to talk. Let’s hope I won't have to kick
anyone’s ass. Been a long time, Spike. Can't say
anything rude about your appearance or living
status, you seem to have that all under control.
Nice house. You kill an old couple? Yeah, soul, I
know, but you know gotta make sure." Angel
walks around taking in the paintings, the fireplace
in the living room, the vintage furniture, and
pictures---tons of pictures of Dawn---and a little
miniature Dawn with her---now this is interesting.
" I wondered what happened to her. I made so
many calls and got nothing. For me that’s
something. Since Buffy wanted a quiet and
simple ceremony, I wasn’t told any info until a
week after. I missed everything felt kinda
shafted." Angel turns around and looks to Spike.
"So is Dawn here? I would like to see her."
Spike grimaces and sets his jaw. "Dawn's been
dead 10 years now, Angel. And very funny---
about the house. You know I always had some
money put aside...and the proceeds from the book
have been a nice extra income. I live here with
her daughter, Aurora." He moves over to the bar.
"Can I offer you a drink?"
Angel looks shocked and a bit sad. He nods to the
drink, looks back at the pictures, and picks up one
of Dawn and what must be Aurora. "Oh
wow...I'm sorry I...she was Buffy's sunshine and
light she was a good girl. This is her daughter
then, Aurora? Where is she can I meet her?"
"She is out partying with some of her friends.
Friday night in New Orleans, you understand.
And I don't know if you should meet her. I
promised Dawn I would keep Aurora away from
the dangerous life. I've done my best. And you
are still living the dangerous life, Angel." He
comes over to hand him the drink. Their fingers
touch and the contact is electric.
Angel looks up into Spike’s eyes for a second,
then pulls his hand away. He takes a sip of his
drink and then stands and nods putting the picture
back and picking up the book. " I am dangerous,
you’re right. Maybe she shouldn't. Well then,
let’s talk about this book, then. It's why I came.
Sadi said I should talk about royalties first that’s
what pissed her off the most but I just have one
question." Angel leans against the fireplace
looking at the book.
Spike takes a deep breath and sighs. "What's the
question?"
Angel looks up and turns the book forward the
cover towards Spike. "Are you completely out of
your mind? I mean---do you think of anyone
other than yourself? I hold a high power job and
if anyone with half a brain who wanted to learn
about me could tie the bits and pieces together
from the book. Jesus...Spike, Connor O'Brian and
Thomas Franklin? Could you have tried harder to
mix up the names? Make me Spanish or make
you Italian. But, no! Irish name and Victorian
name might as well have just written Liam
Frances O'Connor and William Matthew Banner
and be done with it." Angel runs a hand through
his hair and begins to pace.
"So you *are* here to kick my ass for telling dirty
little secrets. I didn't tell anything that they
couldn't find out by research. I *saw* W&H's
files on you, remember? Well, except for the bits
between us. Is *that* what bothers you?"
Angel growls and rubs his face with the book and
throws it on the chair pointing to it. "It's my life
too, Spike, and you just laid it all out for
everyone to read. Did you maybe stop to consider
what I would feel about it? How I would take it?
Those are my memories too. Did you not think
that maybe I wanted to have stuff to keep just for
me?" Angel turns around and grabs the fireplace
mantle. "That some of those things I wanted just
for me for eternity and no one else? Darla and
Drusilla didn't even know half of the things in
that book. They were mine too and you didn't
even care to ask me how I would feel."
"No, I didn't. You've always made it very clear
how you feel about me now, Angel. You hate me.
You hate how I remind you of the old days before
you were cursed. But, there was beauty to those
days, and I wanted that preserved. I didn't think
you would care, frankly. You always like to
pretend they didn't happen." Spike stands with his
arms crossed, his blue eyes sparkling in the
firelight.
Angels eyes flash and he grabs Spike’s arm. He
picks up the book and jerks Spike in front of him,
clasping one arm around his body and pulling
him tight against him. He opens the book to a
marked page. "And Connor pulled Thomas
against him after they were sated and pleasured
beyond measure and whispered in his boy’s ear."
Angel trails his lips to Spike’s ear. "I adore you,
my boy, you’re so damn beautiful. I can never get
enough of you. You’re all I can think about. All I
desire is you. If I could feel love as you do, I
would love you more than anything would. But,
know this…you’re the most prized possession I
have. You’re mine always and forever. Never
forget that." Angel throws the book down, brings
up the other arm, holds tighter, and whispers.
"Seems to me Connor loved Thomas even if he
couldn't tell him. What do you think he would
feel after a soul got placed inside him?"
Spike struggles a bit, but not too much, against
Angel's arms. "I don't know. I know he stopped
touching him, stopped whispering to him, ran
away, and hid for years and years. Left him alone
with a madwoman for company." A hint of tears
mists up in those huge blue eyes.
Angel loosens his hold some but doesn't let go
and continues whispering. "Maybe he was afraid
what Thomas would say-- what he would feel
towards Connor now that he was different, now
that he couldn't feed or hunt with him."
"I'm writing a sequel now...years later, after they
both have souls. I can't write what really
happened, though. Too many people know the
stories. It'll be pure fiction. Connor will find
Thomas again and they will touch, and whisper,
and finally be able to say the words to each other.
Not like what really happened-- the disdain, the
scorn you heaped on me. Tried to make me feel
small and dirty."
Angel lays his face into Spike’s hair and sniffs
rolling the hair at his nape in his fingers. "Will
they be happy-- Connor and Thomas? Will they
have the love each of them dreamed of?"
"It won't be easy... can't be easy, not with those
two. But yes, they will have the love they
dreamed of, longed for, through all those lonely,
awful nights." Spike shivers as Angel fondles his
hair.
Angel kisses the top of Spike’s head and turns
him around. He is running his finger over his lips
when the door opens and the sound of a perky girl
comes in. Angel steps back and tries to look like
he was lounging. Aurora walks in and smiles at
the newcomer. "Well, well, Will. Did a fan and
may I say yummy and broad, well-dressed fan
come to see you in person finally?"
Spike steps back goes over and hugs Aurora.
"Hello, niblet. This isn't a fan." He smirks. "This
is the notorious Angel." He looks over to Angel
to see his reaction.
Angel just smiles some and nods to Aurora then
steps forward extending his hand. "Hello, Aurora
you look so much like your Mom. She was a
great person." Aurora squeals in delight and
shakes Angel’s hand. She proceeds to walk
around him looking him over. "Oh my god Will is
it really, really him? * The *Angel? Aunt Buffy’s
Angel? Your Angel? Angel...Angel? Goddamn!
And I thought Mom over-exaggerated you too but
nope just like you said. God he’s wide isn't he?"
She finally comes around to face a very amused
looking Angel who replies somewhat shyly, "The
one and the same."
Aurora breathes out and fans herself dramatically.
"Oh, so cool."
Spike chuckles. "Yes, he's wide. Big hulking
monstrosity is more like it---Frankenstein
forehead and all. But, you be careful, Aurora.
This is a really dangerous man who's come here
to beat me up for my little book." Spike grins.
"And what are you doing home? I expected you'd
be out with your friends on Bourbon Street at
least until the bars closed. How am I supposed to
have secret affairs if you come home early?"
Aurora smacks Spike in the arm and picks up her
tiny purse from the chair. "I forgot this. I need it
if I want to drink in a bar, Will. But, I’m so glad I
had to come back for it. I wouldn't wanna miss
this for the world. Well I am gonna take this cue
to like go now. I am so happy to meet you and
don't listen to Will. He stopped several times
between the juicy spots in the book to have what
he referred to...” making air quotes "...quiet time.
Well, see you when I see you! Maybe I'll stay at
Marcy's...well ta and love ya... Good to meet you
Angel." Aurora kisses Spike’s cheek, then
pinches Angel’s cheek, and runs out giggling.
Angel turns to Spike and smiles "Quiet time?"
Spike mutters under his breath, "She's not too big
to spank. I can still spank her, right? Or would
that make me a perv?" He turns to Angel. "Yes.
Time to wank. Clear enough for you?"
Angel laughs and walks around the room with his
glass. "I think she may be a bit too big to spank.
Plus...she strikes me as the kind that would like it.
Maybe it was your influence but I don't suggest it.
Anyway I read the book over thirty times. The
writing seemed a bit overjoyed like the writer
enjoys recounting tales. She didn't say anything I
couldn't guess. She’s a good girl, Spike. You did
very well. I'm proud." Angel touches a big-
backed chair tracing around the edges of it while
swirling his glass.
Spike sees the motion, so familiar. Angelus used
to do that, pacing, before he came over to pounce
on him. It was a part of the little dance they did---
circling around. Angelus liked the stalking, the
moving in slowly, and the movement of predator
after prey. He'd circle around, remove some of his
clothes, talk softly and dirty to him...Spike snaps
back and notices Angel unbuttoning his suit
jacket.
Angel removes the jacket and sets it on the back
of the chair. He looks at Spike and smirks.
"Something the matter? I hope not. And it's nice
to know you still get excited enough to need
wank time.” Angel looks up and his eyes sparkle
some as he continues walking around tracing
stuff. His voice is a sultry whisper. “Will." He
loosens his tie and looks at a painting his back to
Spike.
Spike shudders a bit. Angel could still do it, cast
that deadly predator spell. But, Spike had many
years to grow armor, and he pulls himself
together. "I'm still Spike to you, ponce. Only my
friends get to call me Will." Trying to be
nonchalant, he says. "So where are you staying?
Or are you staying? Was this just a little fly-in,
fly-out between corporate meetings?"
Angel’s shoulders slump some and he checks his
breath. Then he looks at Spike and sits in a chair.
"No, I'm here for as long as I please. The CEO
gets to do what he wants when he has people to
cover him. I always go places, fight demons, save
lives. I'm here for as long as you want me around.
I am staying at a nearby hotel. But, I only did that
‘cause I didn't know how welcome I would be
here. I have the stuff ready to be delivered if you
don't mind," he trails off.
Spike shrugs. "I've got an extra room. You could
stay for a while, get to know Aurora, maybe
comment on the new book...Why now?" Spike's
voice goes suddenly from cool and controlled to a
little ragged and raw.
Angel points to the book, keeping his face
lowered so he didn't give more away just yet.
"Book---the memories from your point of view.
You think you know how someone feels but you
never really do. I got to read what you felt and it
touched something in,” Angel touches his heart,
“in here” Angel coughs and he stands up
grabbing his cell from his pocket. "I am gonna
call the hotel and tell them to deliver my things. I
will be right back and you can show me my
room." Angel steps into the hall and makes his
call.
Spike picks up his drink and gulps it. It's like
some ancient dream come true. He can't quite
trust it. He knows Angel hates him, *knows* it,
bears the scars of it on his soul. But, Angel walks
in and makes those eyes and touches him and
here Spike is, all raw and vulnerable again, damn
it. What on earth possessed him to let him stay
here? To have him so close...
Angel comes in and coughs, breaking Spike out
of his thoughts. “They said 20 minutes. So maybe
you can show me my room and then maybe show
me to some blood. Then you’re free of me for the
rest of the night."
Spike shakes himself and starts walking, moving
past Angel. "This way." He takes him up to a
small but lushly appointed room. The bed is large
and features old-fashioned curtains all around it.
"Second line of defense." Spike comments.
"You've got your own bathroom. I know you like
to sleep naked but remember to put clothes on
before you leave your room. There's a balcony,
too. Behind those heavy curtains, there is a set of
French doors. Now, this way to the blood." He
turns and starts heading back down the stairs.
Angel nods and notices how methodical Spike is
being, trying to be firm and controlling. He lets it
go. He knows Spike needs to feel in control,
needs to have that comfort. "It's a nice room,
Spike. It will do." And he follows him
downstairs.
Spike goes into the kitchen. There are two
refrigerators side by side. Spike opens the smaller
of the two. "Blood---mostly pig's blood and cow's
blood. There's a little human I use to flavor it up
or if I need to heal fast. There are mugs in the
cabinet above the microwave." He turns around.
Angel is too close. Spike doesn't breathe,
becoming for a moment completely still, trying to
regain control. "Anything else you need?"
Angel backs up and shakes his head outstretching
his hand to caress Spike’s cheek. "No, that’s
good. Thank you, Spike." There is a knock at the
door and he takes his hand away. He heads to the
door, retrieves his things, and comes back into the
kitchen. "I am just going to rest up-- long flight.
Thank you for letting me stay here, Spike. I will
try not be a hassle and if you want book input I
will be glad to give it." With that Angel takes his
bags upstairs and goes into the room. He sets his
stuff down and lays his head against a wall,
regretting his playful manner earlier. He
should’ve known better. He just couldn't help
himself-- seeing Spike like he was when he was
found so long ago, when he still breathed and had
a pulse, when he caught Angelus’ eye. Spike
could never know the real reason of his turning.
Never know what Angelus did to get his way-- to
get William. Sighing he decides to take another
shower and strips out of his clothes. He goes into
the bathroom leaving the door open.
Spike is in the kitchen, leaning against the
counter. He can still feel Angel's fingers on his
cheek. Damn it---damn that man! It was some
elaborate trick---a joke---a way to get even with
him for the book, he just knew it! As he stands
there, he can hear Angel's cell phone ring. The
jacket! Spike rushes into the living room and
answers it. "Angel's phone," he says.
Sadi squeals in worry. "Who are you and what
have you done with Angel? Unhand him you
cretin or I...I...I will talk your ear off and give you
cell phone radiation. Where is he? Is he well?
Who are you?"
Spike chuckles, "Whoa, hang on there, luv. I
haven't done anything with him. I'm William
Banner, and he's here visiting me. He left his
phone downstairs. Give me a minute and I'll put
him on the phone." He walks upstairs, talking as
he goes. "So what's your name, pet? You seem
awfully concerned about the big lug."
Sadi calms down and now her voice seems
embarrassed. "Oh...oh sorry, Mr. Banner. My
name’s Sadi Masters. I am Angel’s secretary and
friend. I am the one who led him to your book."
"Really? Don't know if I should thank you for
that or not. Time will tell." He wanders into
Angel's room, as the door is open. He can hear
the shower going. Oh, what the hell...he goes into
the bathroom. "Angel, someone named Sadi
calling for you."
Angel jumps some, turns, and opens the clear
curtain and grabs a towel then Spike hands him
the phone. "Yes ...yes sweetie I'm just fine...no
...yes I still have all my parts...no we didn't
fight...no I'm not stressed...Yes Sadi I am
practicing my mantra... No.No...Yes I promise to
call tomorrow. All right...thank you...yes I'll tell
him okay...bye." Angel hangs up and hands the
phone back to Spike. He turns off the shower,
wrapping a towel around his waist then takes the
phone back. "She wanted me to tell you that you
have a pretty voice and that she’s sorry for
mistaking you for a serial killer." Angel shrugs
and walks into the bedroom. "She’s a little high
strung but she is a good person."
When Angel opens the curtain, Spike can't help it.
His eyes flick up and down that sculpted
muscular body. It's just as he remembers it,
except maybe a few more scars. After the initial
look, he keeps his eyes on Angel's face...but the
smell of Angel, fresh from the shower, is like an
aphrodisiac. He shifts to hide his arousal. "It's
nice you have someone to worry about you, ever
since Harm went off with that werewolf."
Angel nods and runs his fingers through his hair.
He smells something familiar but he doesn't
wanna scare Spike off by commenting. "Yeah,
and she is so much better for my nerves. I liked
Harmony but lets just say Sadi is good for me in a
totally friend and work capacity." Angel starts to
fiddle with his fingers. He doesn't wanna change
in front of Spike and make him more nervous or
freaked out.
"I'll go and let you get some rest." Spike leaves,
closing the door behind him, and goes off to his
room. He sits on his bed, shaking. He then gets up
and paces. *I don't know how I'm going to
survive this. He can still push all my buttons.
Damn it gotta get tough. *
Angel releases a full body shudder as soon as
Spike leaves the room. * God I smelled his
arousal. How does he expect me to be cool when
he does that? Mantra...mantra, Angel... Woo
Saa...Wooo Saaa. * Releasing the towel, he slips
on a pair of Pajama bottoms and thinks on what
to do. He decides to unpack then go out on the
balcony and do some tai chi. It always helped him
center.
Spike gets undressed, slipping into matching
midnight blue silk boxers and a silk robe. He had
long ago learned to stay dressed with a very
curious and friendly child in the house. He gets
his cigarettes and a lighter and goes out onto his
balcony to smoke. He lights up a cigarette and
inhales, letting the act of smoking relax him, as
he stands there in the moonlight.
Angel finishes folding his last pair of pants and
closes the drawer feeling like a small job well
done. He goes over to the doors and opens them,
breathing in the night air and smiling slightly. *
It's nice here, * he thinks, * quiet and calm. * He
steps out, lifts his face to the sky, and then places
his feet centering his body. Taking a deep breath
he closes his eyes and places his arms in front of
him taking the first stance.
Spike can see the moonlight reflecting off skin on
the balcony next to his. He shifts, slightly, and he
can see Angel doing tai chi. He is so graceful for
someone his size.
Angel pushes his right fist forward then pulls it
back shifting his shoulders then doing the same
with his left. Then he brings his hand to his chest
and pushes his hand palms up out in front of
himself.
Spike continues to watch the smooth movements.
He knew the ivy would hide him here, and the
wind carried his smoke and smell away from
Angel...but he could smell Angel strong. His
arousal came back again and he drops one hand
down to touch himself through his boxers.
Angel pushes his hands up above his head. Then
he tilts his position, pointing in Spike’s direction,
totally exposing his front side to his view. He
continues doing the movements slow and
languidly.
Spike rubs himself as he continues to watch.
Those muscles...that chest. Finally, he can't stand
it and rushes inside so he lay down on the bed and
finish stroking himself, hard and fast, picturing
Angel's body in the moonlight, and in the shower.
It took very little time for him for him to come.
Angel snaps his eyes open and smiles softly
sniffing the air. Spike was there and it seems
Spike was enjoying the show just fine. Angel
smiles. He has always been a voyeur but he likes
to be watched too. Stretching, he goes back
inside, shuts the doors, and closes the curtains.
Picking up a tank top he slips it on and decides to
go get a drink and some blood. He opens his door
and pads downstairs to the kitchen.
A little while later Spike comes downstairs. He
needs a good cup of blood. He is still in the boxer
and robe. He sees Angel down there. He smirks.
"I keep running into you, mate." He pours himself
some blood and sticks the mug in the microwave.
Angel looks Spike over and bites the inside of his
lip not to growl softly at how erotic a sight it is--
the silk and the colors and his boy all wrapped up
in it. Not trusting his voice he just nods and takes
another sip of blood. He rearranges his position,
but that’s not working. He stands up and walks to
the living room. The he brings the high back chair
to the fire as Angelus would do and sits in it.
Spike stands for a while; not sure what Angel's
reaction meant. He thought he smelled arousal
but he wasn't sure. The microwave beeps, and
Spike takes the mug out and sips the warm blood.
*Fuck it. I'm not just going to hang out in the
kitchen.* He walks into the living room and sees
Angel sitting by the fire. It brings back memories
again. He can remember kneeling beside such
chairs, Angelus' fingers in his hair, or kneeling in
front, his mouth working on Angelus' cock as the
fire warmed his naked backside. But, no such
thing was going to happen tonight. Spike
stretches out on the couch and sips his blood. "So
am I just poor company? I can go back upstairs if
you prefer."
Angel shakes his head but doesn't risk turning it.
He tries out his voice looking into the fire. "No
Wi...Spike. You’re perfect company-- the best.
Two hundred plus years and you’re still the best.
I just...I hate kitchens." Angel winces at his own
bad lie and sighs. He rubs his face and gestures
around the room. "I like in here, it feels like
home. It reminds me of things."
Spike chugs a bit of blood. "Yeah. This room is
the whole reason I bought the house. I sit in here
some nights and just...remember. It helped a lot
when I was working on the book." Spike sighs.
"Listen, I'm sorry if I offended you with it, really.
It's just... those times were so wild and so
incredible. They are seared in me forever. And I
wanted them to shine forever, not be lost into
dust."
Angel finally risks a glance in Spikes direction.
His eyes glow from the reflection of the fire and
his voice is low and calm, bordering on somber.
"I'm not offended I'm just a little sad. I do like
that it is popular, that men and woman love it,
that it brings joy to others even if it has our
carnage. I just... I just..." Angel sighs and tips the
rest of the blood back and leans forward running
his hands through his hair. "When I touched you I
knew that it was just you and me. No one else
would ever touch you and know what me
touching you did to me to you. I guess when the
book came out I just felt violated, like my special
memories were tainted. I don't now though. After
the third reading and the fact others enjoyed it-- it
made me feel proud that you wanted to share it.”
Angel smiles and whispers seductively, “ to share
our passion for one another."
Angel's voice, low, and whispering made Spike
shiver. * He can't mean it, it's a game. Don't lose
yourself in it.* "No one still has ever touched me
like that. No one."
Angel has to close his eyes and turn back to the
fire so his joy is not exposed-- so his possessive
nature doesn't come rolling out screaming “Mine,
Mine...My Boy, my Will ...Mine!” He rubs his
palms back and forth on the chair and nods. "Well
Angelus is a scary person I would imagine not
finding someone else to..." Angel trails off and
leans back in the chair and rub his chin.
"You still act like it was a different person that
did all that. I mean, it is somewhat, but not
completely. I didn't lose all my feelings about it
when I got a soul."
Angel remains in his position, rubbing his chin,
and threads his fingers through his hair with his
other. "I know that, Spike. I just… it makes me
feel better. It lets me disconnect from my bad
side. That’s what Angelus represents-- the evil
inside me. I use it to free up myself. Even if it's a
second of freedom, it's freedom nonetheless. Plus,
no long hair and the lilt is practically gone from
my voice. Unless I sit here and try." Angel
coughs and goes into brogue, "'Tis the only way
to show how much a Irish lad I be dear Will."
*Oh, god the brogue.* Spike has to shift again at
a surge of arousal, hearing it again. He stifles a
moan. "Don't call me Will unless you mean it."
There is a pleading tone in his voice.
Angel's eyes flash and he looks at Spike
intensely, "You do not believe I do, do you? You
don't think I mean it."
"How can you after everything..." Spike's voice
chokes up.
Angels applies a growl to his voice. He's not
angry at Spike. He is angrier with himself. "I have
no excuse. I was scared then I was angry seeing
you with Drusilla. It broke something inside me. I
can't take it back and since then-- it was one thing
for me to draw on, to keep the hate alive, make it
burn one after the other after the other. I can only
say sorry. But, I never stopped Will---not once.
Not deep down. In my blood and my gut you
have always been here." He points to his heart
then his head "You have never left."
Spike shakes his head. "I hated you so much for
leaving. But, you know, Angel, hate is so fucking
close to love. You've always had the power to
move me, to make me feel. I just don't know how
you can come here after all this time..." Spike
gets up. He can't take it anymore, and he leaves,
running up the stairs.
Angel gets up and curses under his breath and
storms up the stairs. Catching Spike’s arm before
he goes into his room, Angel whips him around.
"Don't run Will! I'm sorry you’re upset. I just
want to talk."
Spike punches Angel across the face and yanks
his arm away. "Let me go!"
Angel, not thinking, just in a fit of stress and his
temper beginning to flare, strikes back. It sends
Spike onto the bed where he pins him down
holding his wrists. His eyes flash and he looks
down at Spike. He snaps out of it and jumps back
off the bed, realizing he is being like Angelus. He
starts to apologize but just turns and walks out to
his own room. He closes the door and sits on the
bed.
Spike lay on the bed, panting, hard. For just a
moment, he thought...but no. This couldn't
happen. His eyes mist and he howls in a mix of
rage and frustration, then goes to take a shower.
Angel wrings his hands together. He hates it each
time he breaks and acts like Angelus. Only a
couple things do it and Spike just happens to be
one of them. Resigning himself he just strips
down and climbs in bed. He will let it rest until
morning. He knows it will be odd but they have
to talk. He lays his head down and closes his
eyes. Tonight will be a fitful sleep.
Spike stays in the shower a long time, shedding
tears he didn't know he had in him and scrubbing
the scent of Angel from where he touched him off
his body. He crawled into bed, finally, and
dropped off to sleep.
Tags: fic, nc-17, spangel, stand alone
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