Great. He was horny, and Wes hadn't been able to tell him when the enchantment was going to wear off.
He'd been mauled by a werewolf that was in love with him, turned into a goddamn puppet, made fun of by various underlings at the firm, he couldn't even work the remote right, and he'd missed one of the hard-to-sew areas in his back. This just wasn't his day.
Especially because the magical vampire-to-puppet doohickey had neglected to give him genitals.
He grumbled under his breath and hopped out of his seat, pacing the length of his office. There was no way he'd be able to get any work done in the state he was in. He really needed someone to beat up. Angel thought for a moment, the furrow between his brows growing deeper and deeper and - shit. His left eyebrow fell off.
That was it. Now he was really mad. "Harmony!" he bellowed, not bothering to use the telephone. He turned and glared out the window.
"Yes, boss?" she asked, skidding to a halt in her expensive heels a minute later.
"Get some Velcro, Harmony," he said. "And a car."
"Sure," she replied, with all the chipper enthusiasm of a well-trained puppy.
Angel grumbled again when she returned a few moments later with a roll of velcro and a set of car keys. He turned around and presented her with his eyebrow. "Put this back on me," he said. "I don't want to get my hands stuck to the Velcro."
"How'd you do that?" she asked.
"I was brooding," he muttered. "You're going to drive me to Spike's apartment when my face is put back together."
She shrugged and said, "Okay," then put Angel's eyebrow back in its proper place.
Five minutes later, Angel had his arms crossed over his chest, a scowl firmly set on his face as he glared at Harmony, who was standing by the open door of the car she'd selected. "I am not getting in that thing," he declared vehemently, holding his ground.
"But I thought you liked this car," Harmony mused, a look of puzzlement on her face as she looked the Miata over.
"Pick a different one. Something flashy. Something without a child safety seat in it." He glared at her for good measure, but carefully, so his eyebrow would stay put.
She frowned. "But boss, the state law says that all children four and under have to ride in a car seat. And since you're about the size of a two-year old..."
"No."
"But - "
"No, Harmony."
"But boss..."
"I said no!"
"I guess I don't have a choice," she said, "except to make you get in. I'm not driving you anywhere unless you're buckled up right."
With that, she attacked.
Angel didn't know what hit him as he got scooped up by Harmony, his little puppet limbs flailing. She wrestled him around, managing to stay on her feet, until a muffled voice said, "Okay, okay. Put me in the damn seat."
Smiling in satisfaction, Harmony pulled Angel's face out of her cleavage and set him in the car, buckling him into the child safety seat. He clutched the sides of the seat and screamed the whole way there - and not because he was having a tantrum. When the car pulled up in front of Spike's building, he turned to her and demanded, "Where the hell did you learn to drive?"
"I didn't," she replied. "Do you want me to wait here?"
Angel unfastened the belts holding him in the car-seat, snatched the keys from the ignition, and got out of the car. "Take a bus back to the office," he said, stalking toward the building.
Basement stairs weren't much fun when you were just under two feet tall.
Angel pounded on Spike's door, but the sound came out muffled because of his soft, felt hand. He growled and kicked it.
The door opened a moment later and Spike stepped out into the hallway, looking around. Angel started pummeling his upper thighs. "Why am I always the one who gets eaten by a werewolf, and turned into a puppet, and loses his dick?!" he demanded, kicking Spike once in the shin for good measure.
Spike picked Angel up by the shoulders and looked at him sternly. "Because it's bloody funny, that's why."
Angel kicked him in the gut.
The blond doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach. He stepped aside and sputtered through his guffaws, "Come on in."
The vampire-cum-puppet glared at him and stalked into the apartment, hopping up on the couch with his feet dangling over the edge. "I hate you," he grumbled.
"Feelin's mutual, mate," Spike replied. He closed the door as he stepped back inside, looking Angel over. "I've got the feelin' this isn't a social visit, seein' as though you'd never lower yourself to set foot in this - "
"I'm horny," Angel complained. "I came over to kick your ass, because fighting usually calms me down, and I can't jack off, because the stupid thing that turned me into a puppet forgot to make me anatomically correct."
"And, what, you expected me to just let you do it?"
"Well... yeah." He had to admit that it wasn't a very good plan.
Spike shrugged. "Go to it, then."
"Great. Now you took all the fun out of it. I can't kick your ass when you're expecting it." Angel pounded a little felt fist on the sofa and sulked.
The blond vampire sat still for a moment, then reached over and, without preamble, shoved a hand down Angel's pants. His eyes widened. "You weren't kidding," he said.
"Spike, what the hell are you doing?" Angel asked, batting at Spike's forearm. "Cut that out. You're sick - molesting a puppet."
"Thought maybe you were upset because you weren't as well-endowed as before, but this..." Spike's fingers slid over Angel's felt body. "It's soft," he noted with a glance at Angel's face.
Angel tried to glare at the blond, but gave up. Spike's hand felt... nice. Really nice, in fact. "Okay, this is starting to creep me out a little," he said with a nervous laugh. "Puppets aren't supposed to have erogenous zones, right?"
"Puppets aren't supposed to walk an' talk on their own, either," Spike replied. A slow grin settled on his lips. "Bet I could get you off."
"What? No. Stop that."
"Scared?"
"No."
"Then what?"
"Just - no."
"I don't see you stopping me."
"... stop."
"Aha, a little hesitation that time. Once more with feeling, mate."
"Spike..."
The blond vampire grinned triumphantly and continued to rub. He chuckled when Angel started humping his hand. "Now who's sick?"
"Shut up." Angel wished he had eyelids, so he close them and ignore the fact that Spike was laughing at him. "Hey, what are you - "
"Movin' you," Spike said, lifting the puppet up, shoving his pants down, and pulling Angel onto his lap. "There. Arm was gettin' a little tired." He reached around Angel's torso and rubbed harder, using both hands. He closed his eyes and listened.
Angel settled his hands on Spike's forearms, turning his head so he could look at the blond. "Why are you doing this?"
"Why not?" Spike replied, pressing in harder with his index fingers. He leaned back on the couch, getting caught up in the sound of Angel's moans and harsh breaths. He didn't even notice when the puppet started getting bigger and more life-like. But when, on a pass down over Angel's groin, his fingers bumped into a very hard, very realistic-feeling cock, he jerked his hands away and his eyes opened in surprise.
"Did I tell you to stop?" Angel wiggled on Spike's lap until the blond's legs spread, and he settled back on the younger man's chest, drawing his hands down.
Spike raised an eyebrow and returned his hands to Angel's cock, stroking it between his palms. He grasped the shaft in a tight fist and fondled Angel's balls with the other hand. "Missed these, did you?" he asked, brushing his thumb over the weeping head of Angel's cock on a downstroke.
"Shut up," Angel said again, closing his eyes and pressing his back harder against Spike's chest. His lips parted and he licked them, arching up into Spike's hands. His balls drew up and a tingle shot down his spine.
The bleached blond wrapped his hand tightly around the base of Angel's cock. "What's my name?" he murmured in Angel's ear. "Say it."
Angel moaned.
"Say. It."
"Spike," Angel spat, and the younger vampire loosened his grip, stroking upwards. He came.
Spike shoved Angel forward enough to get off the couch, not pausing to glance back as the older vampire fell back against the cushions. He then stalked off to the bathroom to wipe his hand clean. He washed his hand, staring into the empty mirror, and turned to towel his skin dry.
When he moved to leave the bathroom, Angel was standing in the doorway. He couldn't react fast enough to block the punch to his jaw that came seemingly out of nowhere. Spike went down hard, hitting his head against the counter, the edge cutting into his scalp. Blood ran down the side of his head and he got to his feet. "What the bloody 'ell was that for?" he demanded, hitting Angel back.
"I could ask you the same thing," Angel replied, straightening his jaw before backhanding Spike. "'Say my name'? What the hell was that?"
Spike shrugged, feigning a casual stance as he leaned in the doorway. "Wanted to make sure you knew it was me. I've 'ad enough of people pretendin' I was someone else." He glared at Angel and followed the look with a left hook to his jaw. His fists flew and he watched, satisfied, as Angel's head rocked to the side with each blow to his face. "It's all your fault, you sod!"
"How is the fact that the people you sleep with would rather be with - agh - with someone else, my fault?" Angel asked, retaliating with an elbow to Spike's gut.
"Because they all wanted me to be you!" Spike roared, tackling Angel's midsection and taking him down. The end table they landed on never stood a chance.
"Now you're not making any sense," Angel replied, shoving Spike off him and shaking the wood fragments from his coat. "Why would I want it to be me?"
"Didn't want it to be me, either," the blond said, kicking Angel's legs out from under him. He straddled the older vampire's thighs and delivered a hard punch to his right cheekbone. "Maybe I'm not bad enough for you." He hit Angel across the face. "Maybe I'm not good enough for you. Or maybe - " he caught Angel's nose in a satisfying head butt, " - I'm just convenient."
"What the hell are you talking about?" Angel bucked up, rolling to his feet when Spike fell off him. He looked down at his Childe with concern, but that didn't stop him from kicking him once in the ribs. "I never said any of that."
Spike sat on the floor for a moment, his face paling, then scrambled to his feet and ran.
::::::::::
Predictably, Angel found Spike at the demon bar on the next block. He was three sheets to the wind and looked like a mess. The hair on the right side of his head was matted down with blood. He was muttering something to himself.
Angel sat down next to him and ordered a shot of whiskey. "Want to tell me what that was all about?" he asked, keeping his gaze straight ahead.
"No."
"Didn't think so." The dark-haired vampire threw back his shot. "Tell me anyway?"
"Bugger off."
"Let me return the favor?"
Spike whirled around in his seat, losing his balance. It was only Angel's quick reflexes that kept him from tumbling to the floor. "I said, sod off."
The corners of Angel's mouth quirked up in a half-smile. "You're not going to get rid of me so easily. I used to be in the business of saving lost souls, and I'm feeling nostalgic."
"Go away," Spike grumbled, pouring himself another drink.
"Nah," Angel replied. He looked at the bottle in front of Spike. "I have something much better back at my place, and I won't even charge you for it."
"Tryin' to proposition me now, are you?" Spike accused.
"Trying to figure out what to do with you," Angel corrected. "And in the meantime, I'm trying to get you stitched up. That cut on your head looks pretty bad."
Spike set his shot glass down. "Will you leave me alone if I let you patch me up?"
"Sure," Angel lied. "Come on. My car's outside. And try not to bleed on the seats."
::::::::::
Angel had no idea how he'd ended up in bed with Spike. There was a blank spot in his short-term memory, somewhere. One moment he'd been cleaning the last of Spike's wounds. Then something had happened, and now - they were in bed, naked. Not that Angel particularly cared about the semantics of how they'd wound up like that, because Spike was arching like a kitten under him, strong thighs wrapped around his flanks, yanking him down for brutal, violent kiss after kiss.
The sharp smell of blood split the air as Spike's nails raked down Angel's back. He bucked up against his Sire, hissing into his mouth. "Harder," he muttered, squeezing his legs tighter around Angel's waist.
With a grunt, Angel levered his weight onto his forearms and ground his cock deep into Spike's ass, pushing him down into the mattress. He couldn't believe that, in the century-plus since he'd felt it, he'd nearly forgotten how this felt.
The features of Angel's face rippled and he shifted into gameface, staring down at Spike with golden eyes flashing, his fangs bared. He leaned down and slashed across the blond's chest with one fang, lapping up the blood that trickled from the superficial wound. His hips pumped faster, jarring Spike's body with each thrust.
Spike clutched at the back of Angel's head and humped up into his Sire's pistoning hips, planting his feet flat on the bed and spreading his thighs wider, wanting Angel's cock deeper inside. "Harder," he demanded again.
Angel pulled out of Spike, flipped him over on his belly, pulled his thighs apart, and pushed back inside of him in the space of a short moment. He rotated his hips, gratified with a harsh moan when his cock dragged over Spike's prostate. His hands found the blond's, first pinning his wrists to the bed, and then entwining their fingers. Soft grunts escaped his lips as his balls slapped against the underside of Spike's ass.
The bleached blond arched his back, twisting one of his hands free and catching the back of Angel's neck. He tugged him down, turning his upper body and his head so he could kiss him sloppily. Then he shoved up on his hands and knees, clutching the bedspread, then Angel's thigh, then his forearms. He gave as good as he got, with Angel draped over him, jerking his hips back and forth and taking each hard, jarring thrust, demanding more.
The high-pitched keening noise that caught in the back of Spike's throat let Angel know he was close. Even if he'd forgotten the feel of him, that sound was permanently embedded in his memory. He grabbed Spike's hips with one hand and reached around him to jack him off with the other, scraping his fangs down the back of the blond's neck. "Do it," he rasped, trailing his tongue hotly over the welling blood.
With a hoarse shout, Spike shuddered and came. Angel's hand grew slick with Spike's cum, and he wiped it against the younger vampire's belly as Spike's ass clenched and spasmed around him.
Angel shoved his Childe's shoulders down so his face was pressed into the mattress, dug his fingers into Spike's hips, and thrust once, hard. His eyes rolled back and a rough moan forced itself through his lips as his cock jerked and throbbed in orgasm. He fell to the side, one hand resting possessively on Spike's lower back, looking into the slack face of the bleached blond.
He'd passed out.
::::::::::
When Spike awoke, he found his wrists and ankles securely bound to the bed. Angel was sitting in a nearby easy chair, watching him. "Here, now. What's this?" he asked, tugging on his bonds.
"Simple," Angel replied. "You talk, and I'll untie you."
"I bloody well will not," Spike said. "Let me go."
"I will," the dark-haired vampire repeated, not looking even remotely contrite for having tied Spike up, "when you tell me why you went a little nuts earlier."
"I am a little nuts, in case you forgot," Spike retorted, straining again.
"Spike..."
"Angel..."
Angel smiled. "I've cleared my schedule for the entire day. I can wait until you cave and start talking."
Spike grumbled under his breath. "Hate you," he muttered.
"I know," Angel said. "Start talking. The sooner you get this over with, the sooner I'll let you go."
So Spike talked. He talked about the past hundred years, about Slayers and love and death and carnage. He talked about a fight with a God that had nearly destroyed him, and a relationship with a blond slip of a girl that had finished him off. He talked about punk rock and romance.
He spoke at great length about his soul, about the reasons behind his getting it. He talked about seeing Angel, for the first time in fifty some-odd years, that night in Sunnydale High school, and about feeling elationpainconfusionanger when he'd seen that his Sire was one of the good guys. He talked about dying.
He talked about saving the world.
He talked about his mother his lovers his friends his enemies. He talked about the people who'd pretended not to care, and those who really hadn't. He talked about being chained in a bathtub. He talked about everything that had warped him and twisted him and created a mess of a demon out of a bumbling poet.
He wasn't surprised, when he was done talking, to find that he was crying.
Angel untied Spike's wrists and ankles quickly, then stepped aside in case he felt the need to bolt from the room. Something in him broke when, instead of shoving past him and out the door, Spike sat up in the middle of the bed, drew his knees to his chest, and closed in on himself.
Spike rocked back and forth slightly, burying his face in his knees. Every so often, a little shudder would run down his spine. He snuffled softly to himself, uncaring that Angel was watching him.
The dark-haired vampire hesitated a moment before climbing onto the bed carefully, and reaching out to touch Spike's shoulder. He recoiled when Spike flinched visibly. "Spike..." he murmured softly.
"Go away," Spike whispered.
"I live here," Angel reminded him, touching his shoulder again. "Spike - look at me." He moved his hand up to his Childe's cheek. "Please."
The blond turned his head away and wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, then faced Angel. "What?"
"You're obnoxious."
Spike moved to get off the bed, but a hand on his forearm prevented it. "You drive me absolutely batty sometimes. You're annoying, and frustrating, and you're the least convenient person I know. You're a huge contradiction in terms. Why did you believe that I thought otherwise?"
"Everybody else does," Spike muttered, looking away and trying once again to get up.
Angel held Spike in place. "Am I everyone else?" he asked. "Who am I?"
"You're the bloke who's gonna have a broken nose if he doesn't let go of me," Spike said, trying to loosen Angel's grip.
"Who am I, Spike?" Angel asked again.
Spike rolled his eyes. "You're the great and powerful Angel, now let me loose." He squirmed some more.
Angel caught Spike's chin between his thumb and forefinger, forcing the blond to look at him. "Spike, who am I?" He released Spike's chin and rubbed his thumb over one of two faded, pale scars on the younger vampire's throat.
"My Sire," the blond mumbled, looking down.
A nod. "That's right. I'm your Sire. Do you really think I would've kept you - taken you from Dru and taught you everything - if you'd been the first person to come along, or someone who wouldn't put up much of a fight? Do you think you'd be here today if you'd been convenient?" Angel tilted his head, still rubbing the bitemark absently with a fingertip. "Would I have given you this mark?"
Spike shook his head slowly, keeping his eyes averted.
"You're my Childe because I wanted you, and we had sex tonight because I wanted you. Never doubt that." He released Spike then, getting up and taking off his robe. "We trashed your apartment. You can stay here if you want to." Angel slipped beneath the covers and made himself comfortable.
The blond stood up and looked around the room for a minute, then back at the bed. Angel lifted a corner of the covers on the other side, nodding once at his nude Childe. Spike's brow furrowed once, his lips pursing, and then a look of indecision passed over his countenance. Finally, he smiled just a little, nodding in return, and slid into the bed next to Angel. He pulled the covers up to his chest and turned onto his side.
Angel pulled him close, cradling Spike's head on his chest, and held him, just like he always had, all those years ago.
And Spike thought maybe he'd be alright.
~Finis~