|
|
How to Treat Your
Lover
by Tami
Chapter 45
Chapter 45: Step 3 – Estrangement (Part 12)
Sunnydale, Crawford Street Mansion
Spike walked into the kitchen in a pair of jeans and an open button-down shirt, smoking a cigarette. He opened the refrigerator, grabbed a container of blood, poured himself a glass and popped the glass in the microwave. Once it was heated, he added a pinch of burba weed from a jar and picked up the glass to drink. He paused with glass half raised to answer his chirping phone. He snapped it off his waistband and hit a button.
“Y’ello.”
“S-spike?” a timid voice asked.
“Fred? Is everything okay?”
“Y-yeah, uh, yeah. Things are fine here. Everything’s fine,” Fred assured him.
“Okay then . . . why are you calling, pet?”
“I-I just thought that maybe if that thing you left to take care of was, well . . . taken care of . . . if you want to come back?” Fred asked.
“Is something wrong down there? Need some extra muscle, luv?” Spike asked as he drank his blood.
“Yes . . . I mean no. Nothing’s wrong. We just miss you and want you to come back.”
“Did Angel put you up to this?”
“No. No! Angel doesn’t even know I called you. But, he misses you.”
“Sure, pet. I bet he does. I’m sure he’s all broken up about me being up here,” Spike said and commented more to himself, “Surprised he took time out of his schedule . . .”
“Spike, please?” Fred beseeched.
Spike let out a put upon sigh. “Fine. I’ll come down for a visit. Nothing’s going on up here that the Slayer can’t handle herself anyway.”
“Okay,” Fred said excitedly and then more sedately, “Okay. Well, we’ll see you when you get here.”
“Sure thing, pet,” Spike smirked.
Spike shut the phone off. He drank the rest of his blood as he walked around the house shutting things off, preparing to lock the house up until he came back to Sunnydale. Washing the glass out, he put it back in the cupboard. Then, he grabbed the rest of his blood supply, packed an overnight bag and his weapons. When he opened the door to leave, Buffy stood at the threshold with her hand out to turn the knob.
“Hey, Spike. It’s my birthday. I thought we’d celebrate,” she said.
“Sorry, pet. I can’t fuck you tonight. You’ll have to use your trusty vibrator. I gotta go,” Spike said as he bundled her out of the way and locked the door.
Buffy pouted at the brush off. “You have to go? Go where? I wore the panties you love so much and everything.”
“Sorry, Slayer, have to go back to L.A., duty calls. But, tell you what . . . use that ribbed vibrator buried in your nightstand drawer and have a very good, earth-shattering orgasm while imagining it’s me.”
With that, he squeezed her shoulder in acknowledgement. Throwing his things in the Desoto, Spike slid behind the wheel and spun out as he backed out of the driveway, leaving Buffy to stare after him.
Buffy looked around confused that she found herself on Spike’s doorstep. The sound of the Desoto was long gone. Angry at herself for how she was behaving around the bleached blonde vampire, she stomped away from the house and headed for her own abode.
“I don’t believe this,” Buffy seethed to herself. “He threw me out. I didn’t even make it into the house and he threw me out. Did I like fall into some . . . backward dimension here? Is this Bizarro World? Even Angel wouldn’t --” She thought about her last time in L.A. “Okay, so maybe he would. But, those were totally different circumstances. And after he’s always going on and on about being the only one that understands me – Spike, not Angel. ‘We’re alike: you and me,’ he says. ‘Birds of a bloody feather,’ he says. Uh! He’s so . . .” She exhaled an annoyed sigh. Just then, a vampire came out of nowhere. “I don’t have time for you. Can’t you see I’m having a crisis moment here?” Instinctively, she staked it without blinking and walked through the exploding dust. “Insensitive!” she said finally deciding on a word that best described Spike in her opinion. “That’s what he is: an insensitive, irritating, annoying vampire.”
**************************
Los Angeles, Hyperion Hotel
Wesley sat at the reception desk with a book in front of him open to a picture of a demon. However, he had forgone researching for staring at Fred as she busied herself while waiting for Spike to arrive.
“Honestly, have you ever seen anything lovelier?” Wesley asked no one in particular. “So graceful, so full of life . . . and those eyes . . . make you feel like you’re the only man in the room.”
Just then, Cordelia walked up behind him and looked over his shoulder, “Plus six breasts. Any man is going to love that.”
“Fred doesn’t have six breasts!” Wesley countered and then thought about it. “Right?”
Cordelia wrote on her notepad, replying, “Sorialus the Ravager, and yeah, she’s the one from my vision.”
“Coming to destroy the humans that killed her mate,” Wesley recited from the entry.
“But not for another month or so. I’ll file her under ‘pending.’” Cordelia said as she made a notation on her notepad. “Are you going to ask her out?”
“The Ravager?” Wesley asked confused.
“Fred,” Cordelia clarified.
“Oh. Yes. But, you know . . . timing. I’ll make my move when I feel the iron is hot,” Wesley said.
“Well, get it done, Johnny Reb,” Cordelia said as she smacked him on the shoulder. “So I can hear about something else and you can do something else besides feeling your hot iron.”
“Am I very boring on the subject?” Wesley asked worriedly.
“You know, there was a time when you thought I was the loveliest thing in the world,” Cordelia said forlornly.
“Well, I . . . you’re an extraordinary woman,” Wesley stammered. Cordelia raised an eyebrow. “I . . .”
Cordelia smirked as she watched him squirm for an explanation for a moment. Raising a placating hand, she shrugged. “At ease, soldier. Just like to hear it every now and then. I was the ditziest bitch in Sunnydale. I could have had any man I wanted. Now, I’m all superhero-y and the best action I can get is an invisible ghost who’s good with a Loohfah.”
She quickly turned from filing away her notes to look sheepishly at Wesley. The former watcher caught her eye for half a moment then looked down at his book.
“I’m sorry. I must have missed that last part,” Wesley commented dryly.
Cordelia flushed. “You are a gentleman.”
“Who’s doing what with the Loohfah?” a British accent asked.
Everyone turned at the sound of the voice and the slamming of the door to see Spike standing on the entrance stairs. Fred squealed as she and Cordelia dropped everything and ran over to him. He was nearly flattened by the two females who collided bodily into him.
“Spike! What are you doing here? I thought you were staying away indefinitely,” Cordelia said excitedly.
“Missed you, too, Princess,” Spike said wryly. “Fred called and demanded I come down here.”
Fred blushed and stepped back, shifting uncomfortably. “I didn’t really demand that you come down. I just figured you were bored up there and thought you could come down here . . . I’ll just shut up now.”
“Hey, Spike, you’re back man,” Gunn commented as he jogged up the steps to meet the blonde vampire. “Is everything taken care of up in Sunny-D?”
“Yeah, hysterical women,” Spike chuckled and shrugged. “Bloody Slayer had a dream and thought she killed a human. I think it’s that time of the month or something.”
There was uncomfortable cough in the lobby. “Spike. How nice to see you again. Are you staying for a while?” Wesley asked as he joined them.
“Don’t even know why I’m here to tell you the truth, Percy.”
“Oh right. We have to hide him,” Fred said.
“Hide me from what?” Spike asked confused. He gazed between the two girls as they shared conspiratorial glances with each other. By the look that passed between Fred and Cordelia, he should have known it was a setup. They had something planned and Fred conned him into coming down. Not that it took any kind of arm twisting when it came to Fred with him. He didn’t know what was going on, but if it ever happened again he was going to interrogate her before relenting.
“Come on,” Fred said as she and Cordelia each grabbed a wrist and pulled him along.
“Oh, bro. This is sad. They kidnapped you to be their Ken doll. That’s so wrong,” Gunn said in mock sympathy.
“I told Wesley I needed something fun to do,” Cordelia winked and smiled at Gunn before dragging Spike off.
Spike glanced at Gunn over his shoulder and mouthed, “Help!” just before he was hauled out of sight.
Seconds later, Angel burst through the door like the Dark Avenger Cordelia tried to market him as in the beginning of their partnership. All that was missing was the billowing cape. He had to make due with the billowing trench coat. He was also wearing a huge grin.
“I see you went with dark clothes today,” Wesley commented upon seeing the vampire.
“Ask me why I’m smiling,” Angel said excitedly.
“I will, because it seems detrimental to my existence,” Wesley replied.
Angel pulled a handful of tickets out of his back pocket and held them up. “We are stepping out.”
“So, are those the tickets I suggested you get,” Gunn asked, gesturing to Angel’s fistful of tickets.
Angel had the grace to look distressed. “Well, I got to the ticket place and . . .”
“I’m paying you back. This one’s on me,” Gunn said eagerly. “Mahta Hari is the tightest band in L.A. You guys are gonna be trippin’ out.”
“The only thing is . . .” Angel started to say again.
Gunn put a hand on Angel’s shoulder. “Look, I said I’m good for it, man. Don’t have to worry about dippin’ into the savings.” He snatched the tickets away from Angel. “The time I saw Mahta Hari at the Troubadoor they were the –” He read the name on the tickets. “Blinnikov World Ballet Tour. What’s going on?”
“I was trying to tell you,” Angel said as he took the tickets back. “I got to the ticket place and boom! It’s for tonight only!”
“But – you got ballet on my Mahta Hari tickets,” Gunn pouted.
“This is the Blinnikov World Ballet Corps,” Angel stressed.
“He’s saying that like it has meaning,” Gunn addressed Wesley while he stared at the vampire as if he didn’t recognize him.
“This is one of the premiere companies in the world. And they’re doing Giselle! It’s their signature piece!” Angel said adamantly.
“This is all like some horrible dream,” Gunn sounded lost.
“I think I’ve heard of them. They were very ahead of their time,” Wesley commented.
“Oh, yeah,” Angel replied. “I saw their production of Giselle in eighteen-ninety. I cried like a baby, and I was evil!”
“I think it sounds exciting!” Fred said as she came back with Cordelia, sans Spike.
“Yes,” Wesley suddenly sounded agreeable upon hearing Fred enter the room.
“No. No! This is not Mahta Hari!” Gunn protested. “This is tutus, and guys with their big-ass packages jumping up and down. This is just . . .” He glared at Angel. “I will never trust you again. The trust is gone.”
“Oh, get over it,” Cordelia said, waving Gunn off. “Do we get dressed up?”
“Of course,” Angel said simply.
“I’m in,” Cordelia said.
“Guys, seeing the real ballet live it’s . . .” Angel closed his eyes and sighed at a memory of the ballet from the past. “It’s like another world.” He opened his eyes and looked at Gunn. “These guys are tight, and you’re going to be trippin’ out.”
Gunn scoffed, “Don’t be using my own phrases when we lost the trust.”
“Come on, guys. Working day, cases to solve,” Cordelia said.
“Okay. But I’m not still paying, right?” Gunn asked. “Because this is . . . this is . . . it’s like a nightmare.”
**************************
Somehow Cordelia and Fred snuck Spike out of the hotel without Angel finding out. They had left him with Lorne earlier before they found out that Angel was planning to go to the ballet. The two girls just thought they’d surprise Angel, but when the ballet came into play, they decided to use the opportunity to their advantage and told Lorne to find something snappy for Spike to wear to the ballet.
When Spike discovered their plan, he protested in his own fashion and tried digging his heels in. However, he was no match for two determined ladies on a mission and caved soon after they started hen-pecking at him. What did it say about a badass vampire when he succumbed to the wiles of women, and human ones at that?
So, here Spike was in one of the many vacant rooms that weren’t Angel’s bedroom with Lorne brushing lint off his black, rented tuxedo. Thank God he didn’t have a mirror. He hated tuxedos. He made it his mission in life to steer clear of anything looking like a suit since 1920. Now he was stuck in one. He probably looked horrendous in this outfit.
“Stop fidgeting, vanilla dumpling,” Lorne said as he moved around him to inspect his handiwork.
“Vanilla dumpling?” Spike echoed. He’d heard Lorne call Angel every pastry name in the cookbook that sounded good with the word ‘angel’ and even a few that didn’t. However, he’d never heard a confection endearment applied to him before.
Lorne shrugged as he smoothed the wrinkles out of the tuxedo and stepped back. “Absolutely gorgeous, Spike. Angel’s going to die again when he sees you in this. In fact, I’d almost feel better that I had to give up my ticket to see a world-renowned ballet corps to witness Angel’s reaction to you.”
“He’s seen me in a suit before, mate. I didn’t dress up for him. Cordelia threatened to dust me if I didn’t wear this thing. It’s bloody ridiculous. What was wrong with my regular clothes?” Spike scoffed as he glanced down at his attire in distaste.
“You cannot show up to the ballet in jeans and a ratty old duster. They’d never let you within fifty feet of the place,” Lorne explained.
“Didn’t want to go anyway,” Spike grumbled. “Fred tricked me into this.”
“Sure you do,” Lorne contradicted. “I heard you humming. You’ve missed Angel as much as he has missed you. You’re just looking forward to this ballet. Planning to relive old times, hmm?”
Spike’s eyes narrowed on the Pylean demon. “Were you reading me?”
“It’s a hazard of the gift from my people,” Lorne shrugged. “More to the point: Angel?”
“What about him?” Spike asked curtly.
“He feels the same way about you. He’s just as anxious about this night as you are.”
“Stop bloody reading me!”
“It’s Kyrumption, Spike. You can’t fight Kyrumption. It’s fate and destiny.”
“Destiny? I don’t think so. We’ve just known each other too bloody long,” Spike denied.
“Spike, are you ready yet?!” Cordelia’s shout echoed through the hallway.
Lorne opened the door and let out a long whistle when he saw Cordelia standing on the other side wearing a classic black ankle-length dress with a low-cut neckline.
“To hell with you, Spike. I want my ticket back!” Lorne commented.
“Not bloody likely,” Spike elbowed the demon out of the way and held out his arm to escort Cordelia down to the lobby.
“Boy, Spike, when you clean up, you’re rather dashing and sophisticated,” Cordelia said as she accepted his arm. She walked down the corridor with Spike, calling over her shoulder, “Hope you finally get that book read, Lorne.”
**************************
Hyperion Lobby
“You’ve got to promise not to laugh,” Gunn called out from the manager’s office.
“I promise,” Fred said from where she waited in the lobby with Angel.
“It’s got to come from the heart,” Gunn said petulantly.
“Will you stop being such a little girl? I said, I promise.”
Angel sat on one of the couches in his suit. Cordelia helped him put it on and knotted his tie. He found it odd that she had an enigmatic smile on her face the whole time and wouldn’t say why. Something was up with her.
Just then, Angel was pulled out of his brooding by Gunn as the black man stepped out of the manager’s office dressed in a similar suit. He spread his arms out, showing off his attire. Fred’s eyes widened and after a moment a laughed bubbled out of her.
Gunn frowned. “This is what your promises are worth? I’m having a lot of trust issues at this time in my life.” He glowered at Angel on that last comment. Angel returned the look as if to say ‘what did I do?’
“It’s just . . . my God, you’re so pretty,” Fred gushed. “Isn’t he pretty, Angel?”
The dark vampire smirked. “Oh, yeah, he’s adorable.” If looks could dust, he would be a pile of ashes with the murderous expression on Gunn’s face.
“Can’t get dust on the threads or I’ll lose my deposit,” Gunn said threateningly. “Besides, I can’t go out with my girl looking like all that, covered in what’s left of your sorry ass!”
“Your girl?” Angel asked protectively with a raised brow, falling into the elder brother role as Fred turned beet-red.
“Well, yeah, if it’s okay with her,” Gunn’s lips quirked up in a smile.
“Oh, Charles, of course it is. I’d love to be your girl!” Fred teased back even as her blush deepened.
“Fred!” Angel exclaimed in mock disappointment. “You used to be so sweet and shy.”
“Leave the girl alone. I thought you were already taken, or did you forget that?” Cordelia abruptly reminded him.
“I haven’t --” Angel turned to reply but was cut short when he saw her walking down the stairs on the arm of his mate. His jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw Spike in a suit. For as long as he could remember, his childe hated suits. He wondered what Cordelia had to threaten the blonde with to get him into one.
“You keep your mouth open like that, Peaches, and you’ll be sucking down a lot of flies!” Spike said with his trademark smirk.
“You’re here,” Angel said in pleasant surprise, then became skeptical, “Why are you here?”
“’Cause my girl called and asked me to come,” Spike winked at Fred.
“Your girl? I thought she was my girl!” Gunn said heatedly.
“Yours? When did that happen?” Spike shot back with a wink.
“Not you too!” Cordelia groaned. “Honestly, keep the vampire over-protectiveness to yourselves for one night.”
Angel looked stunned between Gunn and Fred’s situation and Cordelia and Spike on the entry stairs. “We’re getting off the subject. Spike, I thought you were in Sunnydale keeping an eye on Buffy!”
“I was until Fred called me and invited me back down here.” He fingered his suit uncertainly. “I would have said no if I knew I’d end up in this monkey suit though.”
Cordelia lightly slapped his hand away. “Stop that, you’re going to get it all out of shape. Stop fidgeting. You look gorgeous and you know it! Doesn’t he look gorgeous, Angel?” Cordelia asked with a twinkle in her dark eyes.
Remembering what happened the last time a similar questioned was posed, Angel inquired, “If I answer, will it get me burned to a cinder?”
“Only if you take too long!” she quipped back.
Angel’s only reply was a long, smoldering once-over of his boy in the black and white suit. Images sprang to mind of him ripping it off later if Spike decided to stay. His voice came out gravelly as he said, “Yeah, he looks good. Where’s Wesley? We’re going to be late.”
Knowing their destination, Spike mused, “Maybe my luck will change and they’ll have closed the doors by the time we get there.”
He was thinking about ripping off the suit for different reasons. However, when he caught the heat in Angel’s eyes as his Sire took in his appearance; he wanted to tear Angel’s suit off as well. He didn’t want to sit through the torture of a ballet to get to the fun part of the evening – that was if Angel didn’t send him back to Buffy-sit.
“I take it Lorne won’t be joining us?” Gunn inquired, noting Spike’s clothes and the absence of the empath demon.
“He has graciously given up his ticket . . . with a little persuasion,” Cordelia explained.
“Don’t you mean he gave it up under the threat of torture?” Spike corrected with an arched brow.
“I wouldn’t go that far,” Cordelia replied.
Spike scoffed. “You threatened to sing The Way We Were off-key, not that it would be a stretch. Ouch!” he cried as she punched him in the arm.
Angel looked with pride at his childe. Spike was a gorgeous creature and he did want him . . . by his side and in his bed. If only something wasn’t always coming up to keep them apart, but he wasn’t going to think about that now. Tonight was supposed to be a relaxing evening at the ballet. He was going to enjoy his evening with his boy and the rest of their family and worry about the rest later.
Wesley joined them looking dapper in his tux as he placed a shawl over Fred’s shoulders and another over Cordelia’s.
“Not to break your heart, Spike, but since we’re all here, we’ll be able to make the curtain if we leave right now,” Angel said solemnly.
The group walked out of the hotel together. Angel walked on the opposite side of Spike as the blonde vampire escorted Cordelia to the car. Wesley and Gunn were on either side of Fred, silently fighting for the upper hand in escorting her.
**************************
Theatre in Los Angeles
Fred looked around the theatre lobby with a big smile on her face, in awe of the place. The group took their seats. Wesley, Fred and Gunn sat together in one row. Spike, Angel and Cordelia had seats in the row just behind them.
“Sorry they’re not closer. Getting six seats together . . .” Angel started to apologize.
“Don’t be silly,” Wesley replied. “This is the best place. We get the whole panorama from here.”
“Besides, back here we stand less chance of setting off the ‘under seventy’ alarm,” Cordelia commented dryly.
“Back in the day we’d always get box seats,” Angel said.
“Or just ate the people who had ’em,” Spike added casually.
“Let’s not reminisce about the days you ate people for better seats,” Cordelia admonished. “We’re here, enjoy.”
The vampires settled in to watch the ballet. Spike had seen it once before with Angel. He didn’t want to be here, much less in a suit. His only consolation was that Lorne let him keep his cigarettes and lighter. He just hoped this time his Sire wouldn’t end up crying on his shoulder over how wonderful the performance was. But then again, Angel had a soul now. At least he had intermission to look forward to.
A little while later, Spike was bored out of his mind. The listlessness led to bouncing his knee which occasionally stopped when Angel put his hand on his thigh to still the movement. Between the stage show and the sound of Cordelia’s snoring on the other side of Angel, Spike was nearly climbing the walls.
Cordelia shifted and laid her head on Angel’s shoulder, continuing to quietly snore away. In the row ahead of them, Wesley snuck fleeting glances at Fred while Gunn leaned forward, enraptured by the performance. Fred smiled when she saw his obvious enjoyment after all his protestations back at the hotel.
Ignoring Spike’s restlessness and Cordelia’s snoring, Angel stared intently at the stage. There was something wrong. Not only was the performance bringing forth a sense of déjà vu, but they were eerily familiar. A grim expression crossed his face, but before he could brood over it, the act came to an end with rousing applause.
“Bravo! Bravo!” Gunn yelled as he clapped.
His shout jerked Cordelia out of her nap. Bolting upright with sleepy eyes, she said, “I loved it.”
“It’s just intermission,” Angel whispered.
“Oh,” she replied disappointedly and wiped her face. Glancing at Angel’s jacket, she saw a dark stain where her head was restin. “That isn’t drool, is it?”
“It’s okay,” Angel said as he motioned for her to follow the crowd out to the lobby.
“I’ll say it once, and gloat all you want: These guys are tight, and I am trippin’ out!” Gunn said excitedly.
“They certainly live up to their reputation,” Wesley agreed. “Has the choreography changed much since . . .?”
“No. Nothing’s changed,” Angel cut in.
“Well, it’s wonderful they’re able to . . .” Wesley started to say.
“No. I mean, nothing’s changed. These are the same dancers I saw before,” Angel clarified.
“That’s impossible. We’re watching the same troupe you saw in nineteen-ninety?” Fred inquired.
“I think he said eighteen-ninety,” Gunn corrected.
“Oh. Okay, that’s much more impossible.”
“Spike, did you notice anything amiss?” Wesley asked.
Spike, cigarette between his lips, turned away from watching the other ballet enthusiasts. “I didn’t notice anything. But then, I was bloody bored and wasn’t paying attention.”
“So, somebody want to tell me how we’re watching a show starring people who should have died sixty years go?” Angel asked.
Bewildered expressions were exchanged amongst the group, but no one volunteered any ideas.
“It’s a puzzler. Are there snacks?” Cordelia asked disinterestedly.
Ignoring her, Wesley said, “So what are we thinking, vampires?”
“Well, they’re not a deeply tanned bunch,” Cordelia offered.
“That would explain the precision and the athleticism. I mean, some of those jumps were . . .” He glanced up and saw the others looking at him strangely. “You know, I was cool before I met you all.”
“Dancing vampires,” Cordelia said, weighing that possibility. “Who’s not scared?”
“That’s not it,” Angel said. An unreadable look passed between him and Spike. “We’d know. We’d sense it.”
“Even all the way back there . . .” Wesley started to make a flippant comment. Angel’s expression dared him to finish it. “. . . with the – panoramic view?”
“We should check it out,” Angel said, addressing Spike.
“Maybe after the show we should head backstage,” Fred suggested.
“I was thinking now. You guys should go back. Spike and I will see what’s going on.”
“That’s fine with me,” Cordelia yawned.
“Be careful,” Wesley warned.
The lobby lights flickered and a soft chime sounded to indicate the end of intermission.
“Go,” Angel waved them off.
“Hurry,” Gunn sounded impatient to get back to the performance.
**************************
Angel and Spike descended a flight of stairs and saw a big security guard standing in from of the door at the bottom.
“Looks like a lot of muscle for a ballet company,” Angel commented.
“Any idea on how to get past him?” Spike asked.
“No, you?”
Spike tossed his cigarette on the ground and crushed it under his boot. He shouldered past his Sire and headed down the stairs to the guard. Digging a new cigarette out of his crumpled pack, Spike acted like he lost his lighter and patted his pockets.
“Excuse me, mate. You got a light?” he asked the guard.
“No. I don’t smoke. It’s not allowed back here,” the guard replied just before he was knocked out by a sudden cross-punch from Angel.
“So that’s how it works,” Angel said casually.
He and Spike stepped over the body and walked through the door. It swung shut behind them on a spring-loaded hinge.
“Okay. Do you want to explain why a building that should only be forty-feet long seems to go on forever?” Spike inquired as he tucked the cigarette away.
Angel glanced past him down a corridor that extended into infinity. “It’s clearly a spell, or a time flux. I don’t think we want to be rushing in here.”
“I vote we go back, get the others and talk options,” Spike suggested.
They turned back to the door they just came through only to find that the corridor stretched on with no end in sight.
“Works in theory,” Angel commented.
**************************
Wesley, Fred and Gunn were watching the ballet while Cordelia slept on, her head pillowed on Wesley’s shoulder. The director was also watching the dance from his box seat.
**************************
Angel and Spike walked down the corridor. Angel opened one of the doors and they stepped inside, shutting it behind them.
“This was her dressing room,” Angel stated.
“A prima ballerina, eh?” Spike said as he started searching the room for clues.
“It’s unchanged,” Angel said as he looked around in awe.
Spike reached out, but stopped short of touching a necklace with a cross on it. “She’d wait for her lover here.”
“It’s warm. It’s very warm,” Angel said to himself.
“I can feel it,” Spike acknowledged.
“Something happened here,” Angel said ignoring Spike.
“Angel?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you.”
Angel looked surprised. Spike hadn’t seemed interested in him all night. “You what?”
“I can’t deny this anymore. The mate claim, I can’t fight it anymore. I tried,” Spike said.
Angel shook his head to clear the lust-haze. “I . . . – This isn’t us, Spike.” He licked his lips as he stared at Spike’s mouth. “We’re acting this out. Someone is . . .”
“Angel!” Spike nearly shouted in his normal voice.
The dark vampire snapped out of his daze and looked at Spike as if he’d just noticed him.
“What are you going on about?”
“You said that you couldn’t fight the mate claim anymore and that you wanted me. Is that true? Is that really what you want?” Angel asked.
“Well, yeah, but it’s not exactly the time and place to do anything about it,” Spike shrugged.
Angel reached out and caressed Spike’s cheek as he leaned closer. “Why are you so afraid?”
“I’m not afraid of anything, least of all you,” Spike replied.
Before he could say anything more, Angel’s mouth was on his. He stood frozen for a moment but then melted against the elder vampire. Angel’s fingers laced in his hair and pulled him closer. Spike moaned into the kiss as his arms slipped around Angel’s waist.
Angel took it as a sign of encouragement and allowed his passion free reign where his mate was concerned. Months of separation from his boy had been agony. Sleepless nights, working endlessly, doing mundane tasks he never did before – like the business taxes that Wesley or Cordelia usually did. All of it was a distraction to keep his mind off the creature in his arms now.
Spike growled and returned Angel’s passion with equal fervor. The more Angel pushed, the more he pushed back. Angel’s hands were on his hips, loosening his cummerbund. He had Angel’s shirt half open before reality set in and he jerked away.
“We need to get out of here before we do something we regret,” Spike said breathlessly.
“Yes,” Angel agreed huskily.
Neither vampire moved towards the door. Instead, they stepped closer together. Angel snaked an arm around Spike’s waist and slammed his mouth down on Spike’s, kissing him savagely. Spike wrenched his mouth away only to feel his Sire’s lips on his throat over his turning mark.
“This isn’t getting us out of here,” Spike gasped even as he clutched his mate’s broad shoulders.
“I know,” Angel mumbled against his skin. He pulled away, seeming to get his barrings, “Right.”
Angel followed Spike as the blonde backed up towards the door. They stared at each other’s lips until Spike’s back met the door and Angel’s mouth was on his again. Spike clawed at Angel’s shoulders and ground against his crotch as he felt Angel reach for the knob behind him.
Spike broke the kiss long enough to growl: “Open the soddin’ door already.”
“I’m trying,” Angel replied.
“Try harder.”
That command elicited the wrong reaction. Instead of opening the door, Angel slammed him into the wooden panel and used his full weight to hold him there. Spike reached down and grabbed Angel’s hips, pushing him back. It left just enough room for Spike to move forward so that Angel could turn the knob. Breaking apart, they hurried through the open door and Angel slammed it shut behind him.
Both vampires gasped raggedly and they looked worse for the wear due to their efforts to get out of the room. Their clothes were in disarray: Angel’s shirt was halfway open and his suit coat looked mangled. Spike didn’t look much better. His shirt was wrinkled and one side was pulled out of his cummerbund. Both were sporting erections in various stages.
“I came here because Fred asked me to,” Spike said breathlessly. “I did not come here for that.”
“Right,” Angel nodded in agreement. “What were we doing in there?”
“Spirits took us over,” Spike replied as casually as if they were discussing the weather.
“Good thing it wears off quick. I’ve been possessed by spirits before and it didn’t go well,” Angel said. Now, if his erection would go away, everything would be fine. He could chalk that up to the spell and not because the other vampire had an effect on him.
“Ought to be used to it by now,” Spike commented dryly. “I mean you completed the Sire claim and started a mate claim on me while under a spell.”
“You’re still upset over that?” Angel asked in irritation.
“I’m just saying that you completed the claims when Willow did that spell that forced you to Sunnydale,” Spike said flippantly.
“That spell may have gotten me there, but I claimed you of my own free will,” Angel said defensively.
“I’d like to see how you’ll write this soddin’ experience off,” Spike scoffed.
Angel glared at Spike.
“Wot?”
“Shut up and help me find a way out of this mess,” Angel growled.
“Oh, now you want my help?” Spike asked sarcastically.
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be stuck in here forever.”
“You’re the one that’s been possessed before. So, how do we get out of here, Houdini?”
Angel’s brow furrowed at the reference and then his head hit the wooden panel, and he groaned, “We have to go back in there.”
Spike’s scarred brow rose. “We have to go back – into the room that we just escaped from with our clothes barely in tact?” Then, he hissed, “Are you insane?”
“Damn it, it’s a clue! Those spirits are still in there. We can get in, find out what happened, get out with our clothes still on and get out of here. Then, you can go back to Sunnydale and be as far away from me as you can possibly get.”
“You are so narcissistic! You’d like that wouldn’t you, bloody pillock! You’d like nothing more than to have me gone!” Spike shot back.
“Who said I liked it? I never wanted to be away from you, stubborn ass. It’s the way it has to be! Can’t you see that I want you safe!? Is that so hard to believe?” Angel shouted.
“Let’s just get this over with so we can get out of here and you’ll get your wish of never seeing me again, ungrateful dick,” Spike grumbled.
“Fine,” Angel said tiredly and opened the door again.
**************************
Up in the theater, Cordelia used Wesley’s shoulder as a pillow while she slept. Fred was enamored with the performance. Wesley’s hand slowly moved towards Fred’s hand, resting on her knee, just as Gunn’s hand did the same.
“Angel!” Fred whispered.
Wesley and Gunn jerked their hands back.
“Huh?” Gunn asked confused.
“And Spike. They’ve been gone way too long,” Fred replied.
“We’re gonna miss the end!” Gunn cried even as he stood with Cordelia, Wesley and Fred.
**************************
Back in the ballerina’s dressing room, Spike and Angel stood in the center of the room waiting for something to happen.
“Anything coming to you?” Angel asked.
“Other than this is a bloody bad idea? No,” Spike replied.
Angel looked around and then glanced at Spike. “Okay, we’ll take it from the middle.”
“The middle of what? You were going on about me not fighting the mate claim,” Spike said with a tone of indifference.
“Why do you have to make this so difficult? I’m trying to find a way out of here, so you can get back to your life and I can get --”
“Back to brooding over your life?” Spike finished.
Angel’s lips thinned into a grim line. “Yeah, whatever.”
“I’m not afraid of anything, least of all you,” Spike said in character. He grabbed Angel by the lapels of his jacket, hauled him closer and kissed him. A full minute later, they both broke apart and looked around the room.
“Maybe it only works the one time. Told you this was a bloody waste of . . .”
Suddenly, Angel grabbed the back of Spike’s head and pulled him into a searing kiss. Spike reached between them and worked at releasing Angel’s belt as his maneuvered them backwards towards the chaise. He got it unbuckled and the pants open before Angel fell back onto the lounge, taking Spike with him.
“Gotta get these off you,” Spike panted as he tried to jerk the pants down while Angel trailed kisses down his throat.
Angel whimpered when Spike pulled away and sat up to work his pants down out of the way. He stared at his boy’s beautifully sculpted features while Spike took his pants off and pulled Angel’s shoes and pants off the rest of the way.
“Hurry, need you,” Angel pleaded. “He may come at any moment.”
Spike tossed their clothes aside and settled between Angel’s thighs, “He who?”
Angel gasped as he felt Spike’s cock brush against his own. “Kurskov has power. He could kill us.”
“Kurskov owns the company. He doesn’t own you,” Spike said as he used his fangs to slice into his fingers and pressed them gently inside Angel.
“He thinks I’m his,” Angel said with a Russian lilt in his voice.
“You’re mine!” Spike growled as he replaced his fingers with his erection and thrust inside his Sire.
He squeezed his eyes shut at the sensation of Angel stretching around him. God, his Sire was so tight. He could feel the elder vampire arch up against him. Spike forced his eyes open to see the look of ecstasy on Angel’s face. The dark vampire’s eyes were squeezed shut, mouth open on a moan. Angel’s hands clutched at his waist, pulling him closer as his cock slid deeper inside the tight passage.
When Spike pulled back, Angel’s eyes snapped open. “Where are you going?”
Spike smirked, shaking his head. He pushed forward and Angel’s head fell back at the sensation of being filled again. Blindly, he reached for Spike and pulled him down for a kiss. As Spike moved with slow, steady strokes, Angel’s tongue mimicked the motion while he explored Spike’s mouth.
Spike thrust deeper, causing Angel’s body to jerk up on the lounge and break the kiss. Just as Spike sat up to watch his cock slide in and out of his Sire something yanked him away from his lover and knocked him to the ground. Angel sat up at the pain and immediate loss. He looked over the edge of the lounge to see one of the Director’s minions in a comedy mask hit Spike across the chin with a hard right.
Angel scrambled to his feet and hurried to dress before jumping into the fray as another minion came out of nowhere and headed for Spike. Angel grabbed the second minion from behind, spun him around and punched him in the mouth. Spike used the reprieve to tuck his cock into his pants with some difficulty before attacking his opponent.
**************************
Cordelia, Wesley, Fred and Gunn walked the never-ending halls looking for Angel and Spike when one of Kurskov’s minions in a tragedy mask came up behind Gunn. He let out a scream as the minion stabbed him from behind with a sword.
Fred spun around and cried, “Charles!”
Another sword-wielding minion came out of nowhere and confronted Wesley.
“Fred, stay between us,” Wesley warned as he faced off against his masked adversary.
“I need to . . .” Gunn started to say as he swayed on his feet and his enemy nearly gained upper hand.
Fred picked up a prop and walloped the tragedy minion as Gunn dropped to his knees with a groan.
“Wesley!” Fred called out in alarm. Wesley turned and caught the tragedy minion’s sword as she tossed it to him and engaged the comedy minion.
“Can you handle the other?” he asked. Glancing back, he saw Fred continue to hit the sobbing tragedy minion over the head before turning back to his own rival.
“Well, then, it’s just us,” Wesley said casually before he attacked the minion with his sword.
**************************
Spike punched a comedy minion in the stomach and tossed him over the lounge while Angel had a tragedy minion on the floor, choking it for all he was worth. The comedy minion rolled to his feet and slashed at Spike with its sword. Spike dodged the swipe and parried with a right hook to the minion’s jaw. Taking advantage of the reprieve while the minion gained a second wind, Spike glanced over at Angel who still had his hands wrapped around his opponent’s neck.
“A bloody weapon wouldn’t hurt,” Spike commented.
Just then, the tragedy minion pulled out a stiletto and stabbed Angel through the heart with it.
“Thank you,” Angel said as if the minion offered it to him. He pulled out the stiletto, knocked the tragedy minion across the chin, and then stabbed it through the heart with its own sword. Blindly, he tossed the stiletto and skewered the comedy minion through the throat.
Spike watched the minion drop to the floor and turned angry eyes on Angel. “Soddin’ hell! I could have fought him. All I needed was a weapon. You think I can’t bloody well take care of myself?”
Angel got to his feet and stomped over to his mate. “I know you can take care of yourself. I taught you how to take care of yourself, damn it. I wasn’t thinking when I pitched that stiletto. I was just trying to get out of here and the quickest way to do that was to kill him.”
“Don’t do me any favors, Angel. I’m a big boy now,” Spike snapped.
They had moved closer to each other with every insult.
“Next time, I’ll let him kill you, you ungrateful . . .”
“We got to move,” Spike cut in.
“Why?” Angel asked curtly, annoyed that he was interrupted yet again.
“You just look so bloody gorgeous right now,” Spike groaned.
That stopped Angel short. “Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Run,” Angel said.
They ran out of the room. Angel had the presence of mind to take one of the minion’s swords with him. When they rounded a corner it was to see Gunn and Fred getting to their feet. Gunn favored his bloodstained side and Fred had a deep blush in her cheeks.
“You guys all right?” Angel asked concerned.
“Charles got stabbed,” Fred replied.
Spike and Angel glanced down as Gunn pulled up his shirt to show off the wound.
“It’s a couple stitches worth,” Gunn said casually.
Angel’s attention was momentarily caught by the dead minions that Gunn and Fred had bested before Gunn was stabbed. “The same guys that attacked us.”
“Spike, your pants are unbuttoned,” Fred pointed out.
The blonde hurried to fasten his pants. He didn’t have time to finish dressing before he was drawn into the brawl in the dressing room. Come to think of it, neither did Angel. Spike looked at his Sire to see he had fastened his pants, but his shirt was still half open and mussed.
“Any idea of where we are or what the hell is going on?” Gunn asked, turning the topic back to their current predicament.
Angel shifted uncomfortably. “Yeah, Spike and I hit some kind of mystical hotspot back in one of the dressing rooms.”
“The ballerina had a lover way back when and there was a guy – Count Kurskov. He owned the company and he had a thing for the girl. They were afraid of him, it seems,” Spike filled in.
“He had powers of some kind,” Angel added.
“Wesley figured it out,” Cordelia said behind them.
“He was a wizard,” Wesley said as he and Cordelia entered the corridor. They all turned to see Wesley standing at the threshold of the room, sword hanging loosely from his hand. Cordelia was beside him with her own sword. “He was obsessed with the girl. When he found her with the other man, he went insane with jealousy. He pulled her out of time, out of any reality beyond his theater, his company. He swore she would dance for him forever.”
“How did you . . . ?” Fred started to ask.
“I, uh . . . We hit a hotspot too,” Wesley replied.
“And now we’re stuck here?” Gunn inquired.
“Well, ah, this kind of temporal shift can’t just exist. It has to be maintained. That requires power and concentration. If we can overload him somehow, we might be able to slip back to the real world,” Wesley surmised.
“Great,” Angel said.
“So how do we overload him?” Spike asked.
“Well, I’d imagine that requires some energy,” Wesley replied, gesturing to a couple of minions who were rising.
The others turned in that direction and saw them shake and split in two. Angel grabbed two of the minions in a headlock and broke their necks. As soon as they hit the floor, the minions shivered and split into a new pair of minions.
“The more we kill, the more he makes,” Fred said anxiously.
“Look,” Cordelia’s voice caused the group to turn and see the corridor waver and reveal another reality.
“And that is draining his energy,” Wesley pointed out. “Angel, Spike, find a way to the stage. The count will be watching.”
“I bet he has a box seat,” Angel muttered.
“Quit yer gripin’ and work on a way to get us out of here,” Spike growled.
“You’re so quick to leave my company aren’t you?” Angel commented.
“No more than you are in getting rid of me,” Spike accused.
“Would you two stop bickering and find his power center. Destroy it while we try to loosen his hold,” Wesley chastised.
“By making more monsters? A man with a frightening plan,” Gunn commented before he slugged a minion.
When another minion came up the corridor, Angel and Spike both punched him in the face and knocked him down. Spike picked the minion up by the head and twisted until he heard a crack and dropped him.
Meanwhile, Cordelia, Gunn, Fred and Wesley cornered themselves and started to fight the minions. Angel waited for the reality to flicker again and then jumped through it, pulling Spike with him. They landed in the wings of the stage. Near the edge of the curtain a ballerina stood watching the performance. They stepped closer to see the same ballerina dance off stage. Her image shivered and dissolved as she passed from view of the theater’s audience.
“Hello?” Angel greeted cautiously.
The ballerina’s head whipped around and she stared at them in surprise. “Who are you? No one’s ever been here before. You’re new.”
“I’m Spike, this is Angel,” Spike said with a thumb gesture in his Sire’s direction.
“We’re pretty old actually,” Angel added. He slowly moved closer. “I’ve seen you dance.”
The Ballerina regarded them with a look then turned back to the stage. “Everyone sees me.”
“It was Giselle then, as well,” Angel said.
“Always,” the ballerina confirmed.
Spike nudged Angel in the side and gestured to something behind the ballerina. The dark vampire looked past the girl and saw Kurskov up in his box.
“I know what’s happening. Count Kurskov – he’s punishing you,” Angel said as he stared at the man in question.
“He made me. He owns me. When I dance, it is only for him.
“Do you believe that?” Angel asked.
The ballerina shrugged. “It really doesn’t matter. I’ll dance. I’ll wait here. And then I’ll dance again. That is all.”
Silent up to this point, for the most part, allowing Angel to take the lead in this case, Spike couldn’t let that comment go by. “A hundred years of doing the same bloody piece every night? Is that enough for you? What about that bloke Stephan?”
Angel cringed at how crude Spike’s inquiry sounded, but he wondered the same thing. The ballerina looked unaffected by the question. She took a deep breath and replied, “I waited too long. I should have gone when he asked me. I should have disappeared, but . . .” She swallowed hard, trying to give a voice to the words that wouldn’t pass the lump in her throat. “I w-wanted this. This da-a-ance, this . . . I hesitated and . . . I lost everything that mattered. Now, all I do is wait.”
“You dance,” Angel corrected.
“There is a section in the first act, during the courtship dance, where – my foot slips. My ankle’s turned and – and I don’t quite hold – every time.” She glanced at the box, but the Count was riveted to the performance and ignoring her. “He doesn’t notice. He doesn’t even know ballet that well. But always, at that same moment, I slip. It isn’t just the same ballet.” Her eyes flicked up to meet Angel’s. “It’s the same performance. I don’t dance.” She glanced at the stage and watched her likeness execute the same routine as it has for the last century. “I echo.” She turned back to Angel after a moment. “Please, can you make it stop?”
Angel reached out his hand towards the stage and watched it vanish in mid-air. “We can help you. But you have to do something.”
“What?” the ballerina asked desperately.
“Change the ending, luv. Dance something else,” Spike suggested.
“I can’t,” the ballerina said with a shake of her head.
“He doesn’t control all of this. He’s losing it,” Angel said as he looked behind him and Spike to see the 1890 backstage dissolve for a moment into the present-day one. “But you have to take the stage. It’s not too late. You can change things.”
The ballerina looked skeptically from the two vampires to the stage. Slowly, she stepped towards the stage, looking back at Angel once, then sprinted out and began to dance around the male lead dancer who lay stretched out on the stage as the rest of the company left the stage. She raised her head from bowing over the fallen body to look doubtful towards Spike, who waited in the wings with Angel. Then, she stepped back and struck a different pose.
Seeing the drastic change, Kurskov jumped up out of his chair and cried, “No!”
As the ballerina continued to dance, the body of the male lead dancer shivered and dissolved. The ballerina paused, holding a pose, and then looked up defiantly at Kurskov’s box. Angel ran out onto the stage and, with two great leaps, landed in Kurskov’s box. He grabbed the man’s lapels and jerked him closer.
“Where is your power center?” Angel demanded.
“How dare you?!” Kurskov spat.
“I’ll guess it’s this,” Angel surmised. He smashed the jewel in the center of the medallion hanging around Kurskov’s neck. Suddenly, a blue light emanated from the necklace and washed out over the ballerina on stage as well as the minions that were backstage still fighting with Wesley, Cordelia, Fred and Gunn. On stage, the ballerina looked up at Angel with a grateful expression. He gave her a slight nod. She gave a deep bow and disappeared.
“You had no right. She was my love. She danced only for me!” Kurskov whined.
A hand grabbed his shoulder and spun him around to see Spike. “You love her that much?” The blonde vampire hauled back and punched Kurskov in the face, dropping him to the floor. “Start a bloody website.”
“I think box seats are overrated,” Angel commented as they left the box to find their friends.
**************************
Los Angeles, Hyperion Hotel, Later That Night
Wesley was in the manager’s office bandaging the wound in Gunn’s back. “We’ll have to clean the wound. Do you want something for the pain?”
Staring at Fred sitting across from him, Gunn asked, “What pain?” Fred blushed when Gunn smiled at her.
In the lobby, Angel turned away from watching them with a smile on his face. He didn’t know exactly what was going on with his three co-workers, but the goofy smile on Gunn’s face was priceless. When he turned around, Spike was helping Cordelia brush lint off her dress.
“Do you think I can still return it?” Cordelia asked Spike. “If not, then we’re going to have to take on a lot more cases.”
“It should be fine,” Spike assured her.
Just then, Cordelia glanced at the entrance when movement caught her peripheral and saw a man in the doorway.
“Groo?” Spike was still brushing her dress off and nearly snagged the fabric when she ran away from him yelling, “Groo!”
“Who the bloody hell is Groo?” Spike asked just as someone behind him yelled, “Princess!”
Spike and Angel turned to see Cordelia throw herself into the Groosalug’s arms as he came down the stairs and swung her around in a tight hug.
“Oh God! I can’t believe it!” Cordelia squealed.
Fred and Wesley came out of the office upon hearing the screaming.
Groo looked deep into Cordelia’s eyes, “I feared that you’d forget who I was.”
Cordelia gave him a shy smile, “Remind me.”
Angel stood slack jawed and Spike cringed when they saw the two reunited lovebirds kissing. It was like watching your younger sister kiss her boyfriend – not an experience that should be repeated . . . ever!
Spike leaned closer to Angel and whispered, “If we ever looked like that while kissing, remind me that we should kill ourselves.”
“I’ll second that,” Angel agreed.
Lorne walked down the stairs with his eyes on Cordelia and Groo. Never taking his eyes off the couple, he sidled up to Angel and whispered, “He just showed up. Apparently once everyone in Pylea got their freedom, the political situation got a little sketchy. The Groosalug here got deposed and they set up some sort of people’s republic. So, he came looking for his – true love.”
“Huh,” Angel grunted in acknowledgement. “That’s good – good for her.”
“Yeah,” Lorne drawled doubtfully.
“Well, I’m going to get out of this suit. Are you coming, Spike?” Angel said over his shoulder as he sprinted up the steps, taking two at a time. He didn’t bother to look back to see if Spike followed him.
“Well, what was that all about?” Lorne asked no one in particular.
“Don’t ask, mate. It’s been a long night.” Spike jogged up the stairs after Angel, muttering, “Soddin’ mystical hotspots . . .”
“Well, that’s a surprise. I thought for sure Spike would take off after what happened at the ballet,” Fred commented as she turned to Wesley. “I guess you can never predict things when it comes to those two, you know?”
Wesley looked at her for a moment, admiring how beautiful she looked in her dress, “No, you never can.”
Fred gave him a smile before turning back to watch Groo and Cordelia snuggle.
**************************
Angel’s Suite
Angel had shrugged out of his jacket and was removing his cufflinks when Spike stepped into the room minus his suit’s jacket and bow tie.
“It’s strange. I remember him being taller,” Angel commented without looking up from his task.
“What’s that mate?” Spike asked as he stepped closer.
“The Groosalug,” Angel clarified. “In Pylea, he seemed taller.”
“Could be that Pyleans were really munchkins and Lorne ended up a freakishly tall hybrid?” Spike offered.
“Does he seem, ah,” Angel shrugged and glanced up, “I don’t know – short?”
“Why? Are you jealous of the guy? Think he’ll steal me away?” Spike smirked as he moved in front of Angel and started undoing his bow tie for him. Angel let out a possessive growl as soon as the words left Spike’s mouth. There was a glint of humor in Spike’s eyes at the noise. “Aw, it’s so nice to know you still care that much about me, Angel. Seriously though, I don’t see anything wrong with him. He’s clearly in love with our Cordy. I’m sure once she gets him home --”
Angel’s head shot up at those words and he squeaked, “She took him home?”
“Yeah. I don’t hear her in the hotel anymore,” Spike replied as he pulled the tie loose from Angel’s neck and stepped back.
“Well, that’s good – right? At least we won’t have to put him up here. The place was starting to turn into a hotel,” Angel said to himself as he hung his jacket up in the closet.
“I can see you have no problems with it,” Spike smirked behind Angel’s back.
“Of course I don’t!” Angel scoffed. “Why would I?”
“She’s an adult, Angel. She can handle herself. The first wrong move he makes on her, she’ll probably knock him into next Wednesday,” Spike said.
“I’m glad you came tonight,” Angel said, changing the subject.
“Yeah, well, Fred asked me and then she and Cordy wouldn’t let me leave. When those two get it in their heads to do something . . .” Spike trailed off.
“And the thing with the spell tonight . . .”
“Don’t mention it. It couldn’t be helped. ’s a one-off, yeah? A moment of weakness for both of us,” Spike said.
“Is that all it was? Cause I --” Angel started to say.
“Look, Angel, things between us haven’t been right for a while. There’re still . . . unresolved issues between us. It was a nice memory to hold onto, but that’s all.”
“It does seem like the only time we ever get together, there’s a spell involved,” Angel said softly.
“Seems like,” Spike agreed. “Well, I have to go change back into my regular clothes and I’ll get out of here. No telling what the Slayer’s gotten herself into while I’ve been away.”
Angel heard Spike head for the door. He refused to turn around and watch as his mate walked out of his life again. Buffy was his priority. He couldn’t afford to be selfish. The world needed Buffy and Buffy needed someone as strong as she to watch her back. An internal war started between his head and heart. His head told him that Buffy needed Spike more. She was the only Slayer that was free to take care of the Hellmouth and as much as her friends liked to help, they just couldn’t protect her like Spike could.
On the other hand, his heart told him to never let Spike out of his sight again. There was a literal ache in his chest at the thought of his boy leaving him again. His dick had ideas
of strapping Spike down to his bed and never letting him up. In fact, he had even gone out and bought tie-down straps and installed them on his bedframe after that time Spike had shackled him to the bed and shaved his groin. They were hidden under the mattress. Though, they never got to use them yet. He completely forgot about them at Christmas. Good thing too, because Spike was calling the shots then as well, if he remembered correctly.
Angel was still arguing with himself when he heard the doorknob turn and the panel open before he was in motion. Half dozen long strides had him behind Spike. He pushed the door shut with a nudge of his hand. Spike stood still but didn’t turn around.
“Stay,” Angel commanded in a soft voice without inflection.
“Angel,” Spike sighed as he turned around finally. He didn’t want to have an argument after what happened at the ballet. Please, just let him have the untarnished memory of being inside his Sire without the accusations and disagreements over how it should not have happened because it was against the Lore.
Any objections died in Spike’s throat when he suddenly felt Angel’s mouth on his. A groan escaped as Angel pressed him against the door. The sound parted his lips, allowing Angel’s tongue to slip inside. After a moment, his Sire broke away and rested his forehead against Spike’s.
“Stay.”
One word. A simple command. The imperceptible ‘Please’ could be heard in the small space between them. Spike wasn’t giving in. He wouldn’t let his guard down again. He almost lost his heart last time Angel asked him to stay before sending him back to Sunnyhell with the Slayer. He wouldn’t let his heart lead this time. But, here was better than Sunnydale where he was only muscle.
His friends were here.
His family was here.
His Sire.
His mate.
Spike nodded in agreement. Angel closed his eyes in relief. His boy was staying.
|
