Lost Time

Dedications: Thanks go to CrazyEvilDru and Phoenix for the beta reading! And thanks also to all who told me they wanted a sequel to Thin Line. I know it took me a while, but here it is!

I walk into the hotel, tossing my coat on the couch. I frown at the stairs. Will I *ever* have enough money to get that damn elevator fixed? I sigh. Probably not. Not even an eternity of making this small amount of money a week will get me enough money to think that's a priority.

Although after nights like tonight, it would be nice not to have to walk up those stairs. Of course, I could just sleep on the couch. But my first aid kit is upstairs and I don't really fancy the idea of bloodstains all over my couch until my injury heals.

So. Upstairs it is. I grit my teeth and get myself to the second floor with some effort. Either I'm getting too old for this, or Chaos demons are getting harder to slay. Maybe it's a little bit of both. Or maybe that one just got in a lucky shot, when he stabbed me in the stomach. Well, lucky in a temporary sense of the word, because then I swung *my* sword and sent his head flying across the warehouse.

I'm surprised I got the others to go home so easily, afterward. I thought Cordy would've offered to help me get cleaned up. Well, she probably would have, if she felt comfortable in the Hyperion. But none of them do, anymore.

I thought they'd get used to Spike's presence but so far... I guess they just need a little more time. At least they haven't demanded that he leave. One thing to be grateful for. I don't want to choose between them and him.

I reach my room and kick off my shoes. I've been using my shirt to try to stop the bleeding, so it's ruined. I pull it away, hissing as the material sticks to the wound. "Fuck." I didn't get a chance to look at my injury before, but it's nasty. At least the sword didn't go straight through me.

I've been roaming the hotel aimlessly, like I do every night. And then I catch the scent. Blood. Not just any blood. Fuck. My lives -yes, * both* of them - flash before my eyes. Because it's my sire's blood I smell.

He's just standing there, looking at me. And damn, he's just way sexier than should be allowed when he's that badly hurt. I somehow pull my mind back to the fact of his injury and walk closer. Someone tried to run him through with a sword, looks like. Okay, he's not going to crumble to dust on me. Well, that's a relief.

Meanwhile Angel's not replying. In fact he's looking kinda dazed... I guess blood loss will do that to ya. So I take over. "SIT." I point at the bed. He blinks twice and obeys. Then I go for the first aid kit, taking advantage of the few seconds in the restroom to calm down. He's okay. He'll be fine.

I return and sit next to him, cleaning up the wound as best as I can. "Bloody hell, Angel, what did you run into tonight?" I demand, trying to sound irritated that I'm having to take care of him. I'm not sure I succeed too well, though. I think I sound more worried than anything else.

But I'm not worried. I'm not feeling the after effects of getting smacked in the face with the possibility that I coulda lost him, again. No, that's not it at all. "And what good are those friends of yours if they didn't even stay to help you get bandaged up?" I grumble. Stupid pet humans. Good for nothing except making him feel like shit.

I'm still a little bit slow in the reaction department, so it finally occurs to me that Spike is - was- worried, when he first smelled my blood. That's why he burst in, looking so panicked. He was worried! That thought makes me smile; I can't help it. *Spike* was *worried* about *me*!

He shakes his head at me, obviously of the opinion that I've lost my mind, since I'm grinning at him like an idiot. Then he turns his attention back to my injury. "This is gonna hurt," he warns, as he starts to clean the wound with the hydrogen peroxide. I bite my lip to keep from whining about the sting.

I *really* love being taken care of like this. I can almost believe he cares. Especially when I remember the fear I saw in his eyes as he ran into my room. I really want to think he *does* care. It reminds me of how we were before the curse. There were many nights that he'd help me get cleaned up after a particularly brutal fight. Or vice versa. The look on his face back then would be the same, worry and concern and ... love?

That's the real issue, of course. I brought him back here with me because I wanted him back. The way we used to be... No. Not exactly the same because now I don't *want* to own him. I just want to love him, the way I always have but never admitted. Even before the curse, I was too obsessed with keeping control over him to let him know how I felt. But now.... now I'm scared to tell him.

It's been a week since I brought him and Dawn back to L.A with me. And I'm sure he's wondering what I want to happen now. It's very possible that he doesn't feel the same way about me that I do about him... but I won't know that for sure until we talk. That *is* something that I promised him we'd do, but we haven't done that yet.

In fact, I've made no effort at all to even be close to him. I told myself I was just doing that so he and Dawn would have a chance to get settled in. I tried to convince myself that if I didn't wait, I'd come on too strong and scare him off. But maybe I've gone too far in the opposite direction.

I can't let myself be ruled by my fears. If he doesn't love me, then that's just the way things are. I can deal with it. And maybe we could be friends, at least? That's better than nothing.

But here I am brooding about it and I won't get my answers that way. I'll only know what's going on in that mind of his when I ask him. And that involves actual talking, of course.

He's finished cleaning my wound and starts to bandage it. He's so careful. Gentle. I reach out and brush my fingers against his cheek. He jumps a little but doesn't bat my hand away. Okay. That's a good sign. "Thanks, Will."

I jump when I feel his hand cup my cheek. Then I just about melt into a puddle when he calls me 'Will'. He's the only one who ever called me that. And I haven't heard it in over a century. I didn't realize how much I missed it. Him. "Yeah, whatever," I mumble. "Pouf. I'm just doing this so you'll stop bleeding all over the hotel floors."

He chuckles. "Well, thank you, anyway." His fingers run through my hair and then he pulls his hand away again. I sigh, trying to make it sound irritated, but failing. Shit, I was starting to wonder if he'd ever touch me again, after that night. It's been a week. At first I figured he was just trying not to be too pushy about the him and me thing. But...

Long enough for me to figure out Dawn and I aren't going to be leaving, not by our own choices, anyway. Little Bit loves it here. Angel's humans like having her around, too. They're less thrilled about me, but they don't have a choice about where I go. I made a promise and I plan to keep it. So I go where she goes.

And I even kinda like being here, myself. It's fun annoying the Ex-Watcher and Cordelia. They're easy to get a rise out of. The other guy, Gunn... well, he leaves me alone so I repay the favor. And it *is* also nice being with my sire again, without us trying to kill each other.

I just wish I knew... Does he *want* me, or just want me around? I haven't tried to find out the answer to that question, though. Why? Because I'm a coward. Everyone I've gotten too attached to has left me. First, Angelus, then... well, Angelus again, then Drusilla and finally Buffy. But I guess there's a *real* pattern of leaving where my sire's concerned, so I'm more than a little worried it'll happen again.

I've finished bandaging him up, so I stand up. "You'll be okay, I guess." I start to turn away, but he grabs my arm. I turn back to look at him and I can almost convince myself I know the answer to all my questions. His eyes did always tell me more than he was ever able to say out loud.

"Wait," I say, grabbing his arm. I don't want him to go. "I was thinking... I mean, it's ...well, I wondered..." I trail off and sigh. I don't know why I can't just *talk* to him. But he's uncomfortable around me, too. It's obvious from looking at him. This is all so much more difficult than I thought it would be.

"How's Dawn?" I ask. Yeah, that's what I *really* wanted to talk about. Shit. But at least it keeps him from leaving. Well, that and the fact I haven't let go of his wrist yet.

"Good," I reply. And I don't know why I'm avoiding the real things we need to talk about. No, that's not true. I know. I'm worried that if we start talking, all those bad things between us will prove too difficult to get past.

But the fact remains, we're really not going to get anywhere if we don't try to face those obstacles. And I know I've never been good at talking about difficult subjects, but this is ridiculous. The problem is.... there's too much to say and I don't know where to start. I am, quite plainly, a coward when it comes to my favorite childe.

"She'll be okay, Spike," I say with a little smile. "If she needs you, you'll hear her." He nods and I add, "Hey, um... I was just about to go back down to the kitchen to get some blood. You hungry?"

He makes a face. He hates pig's blood. But I know something he doesn't. "I got Cordy to drop by the blood bank on our way back here," I add. "I knew pig's blood wouldn't help me heal fast enough. I got enough human blood for both of us, for a couple of weeks."

I try not to pay too much attention as he goes to get a clean shirt, but I can't help it. Even when I hated Angelus, I was attracted to him. So I admit it; I steal a glance over at his broad back as he grabs a black shirt out of his closet.

And shit, if I didn't know any better, I'd think he remembers how much I like looking at him, since he turns to me as he pulls it on. I'm not complaining, I don't mind another good view of his well-toned chest and abs. Of course, he probably knew I don't mind looking, given the fact I was practically drooling over his chest as I bandaged him. And yes, I've been hard from the moment I saw him, tonight. I can't help it; it *is* what he made me for... well one of the reasons, anyway. And I know I need a hobby other than obsessing over how beautiful he is, especially when he's not showing any real signs of wanting me half as much as I want him.

I can see the conflicting emotions in his beautiful blue eyes when I walk closer to him. He thinks I'm not interested in him. He believes that's why I haven't tried to touch him, kiss him, or anything more, lately. He couldn't be more wrong, though. I do want all those things. I have for years. I think I need him, too. At one time, he knew me better than anybody else did. And me I want to believe that's still the case, because I really miss that comfortable connection we once had.

But I'm afraid. Afraid he won't feel the same way about me. Afraid that if we *do* get back together, he'll have the power to hurt me, more than anyone else ever has. Afraid that he'll use that power, because I deserve it. After all the horrible things I did to him, I deserve to pay for the pain I caused him.

But I asked him to come here to live with me, because I was willing to risk all those consequences. Because those fears I have just might be wrong, and he might want me, need me, love me as much as I do him.

He's got a puzzled look on his face, like he's trying to read my mind. I just smile and motion for him to precede me out of the room. He's wearing a pair of black jeans and no shirt. And even if it's a familiar sight, I'll never get bored with it. Just looking at him can turn me on. I am *so* pathetic.

As I walk close behind him I can almost feel how on edge he is. I've noticed this, all week. And I hate it. I know he needs more to keep him content than staying here with Dawn while I and the others go out. He's never been happy when he can't *do* something with all that energy he has. He has always needed to be active. I know that joining us in our work would be good for him, by giving him an outlet for that denied hunt-feed-kill urge.

But the others don't *want* him working with us, so he doesn't come along. He stays in with Dawn while we work. And I can tell it's killing him, not to have that outlet hunt-feed-kill urge. I know all about that urge, personally. What, you think I do what I do *only* for my quest for redemption? No, I get more than a little satisfaction being able to kill something, even if they are the kind of creatures that deserve killing.

So I know Spike isn't happy. And every night, when I leave with the others, I wonder if that will be the night I'll return to find him gone. It hasn't happened yet, but that doesn't mean it won't. So I really hope my friends' attitudes toward Spike will change, and soon. If they don't, I'll have to do something to change their minds for them. Just having him here isn't good enough if he's miserable. I want to make L.A. a place where he *wants* to be, for a very long time.

We walk into the kitchen and he heads for the refrigerator. I can't help smiling when he orders me to sit while he gets our blood warmed up. He's taking care of me again. He has no clue what that does to me.

As I watch him, I notice he's doing everything possible to keep himself busy and not look at me. I make him nervous? Yes, he does that to me... but it helps to know it's a two-way thing. It means there's hope of *something* between us, something more than what we have now.

Okay, Angel. Say something. "So..." Yeah, that was eloquent. And this is getting annoying. I've known this man for over a century. For two decades of that time, intimately. So I really should be able to talk to him more easily than this. We used to be able to talk for hours, about anything or nothing. I want that back.

But to my enormous relief, he doesn't. Instead, he threads his fingers into my hair and pulls my head closer, opening his mouth for my tongue. He moans and I growl in reply as I press myself closer. Oh...gods. This is... un-fucking-believable. I forgot how it felt to kiss him. My boy. My Will. And how could I forget that? I don't know. I just know I don't ever want to stop. Shit, I could spend an eternity just kissing him.

Angel looks at me. I just nod. Might as well come clean *now*. He smiles and then looks back to Dawn. "We didn't mean for you to find out like this... Can we talk? Please?"

She nods after a few very long *years* of silence. Angel touches my hand briefly when her back is to us as she walks to the table. I roll my eyes at him, even though I *did* need that little reassurance. It occurs to me now that it's gonna not be 'of the good' if Dawn isn't happy about... whatever the hell this is, that's going on with my sire and me. If she isn't, we'll have to stop it. No question about that. She comes first. Fuck, I hope she *can* deal with Angel and I being together.

He hands me a mug of blood and then takes his and walks over to the table. He sits next to Dawn and says, "Spike and I ... We were going to tell you about this, once we found the right time. And also..." he looks over at me and adds, "I think I was also waiting until we sorted some things out. Because I don't know about Spike, but *I'm* still trying to figure this all out."

Oh. And here I thought he had it all figured out. For some reason, it's a relief to know he doesn't. Because maybe that means we can figure it out together, instead of *him* telling *me* how this will work. Not really interested in being his sub again. Not wanting to go the way things were, me adoring him while never knowing how he feels.

"Spike and I have a very complicated history, Dawn," Angel says. "More complicated than you - any of our friends - knows. You know I made him a vampire. What you don't know is how close we were back then."

I have to take a deep breath, because I just can't. I *still* can't say her name. Just like I still can't get the image of her falling out of my mind. I swallow hard and say, "Or your sister did. Knowing that she would've wanted me to do whatever it took to take care of you. Even though I couldn't have managed it on my own. Not the way I was. You were right to call Angel, even though you didn't really know that. And when he got to the crypt... we just ... talked, for once, instead of fighting."

Among other things. But those other things fall into the realm of too much information. There's a difference between being honest with Niblet, and making her run screaming from the room.

Smart kid. Smarter than she should be at fifteen. It's moments like this I remember she's *not* just fifteen. "No, of course not," I reply, not looking at Angel because I know I'd see that kicked puppy look he gets when he's brooding about what will happen in the future. "We couldn't do that in only a few hours. We *did* decide to just... see what happens.

"And Angel asked me to bring you to stay with us, so we could both look after you," I finish. "So in that sense, you and ... you two have a lot to do with us at least trying to be friends.

"And I know we should've told you earlier about this," I continue. "I know there's no excuse for not doing it, but I just didn't want you to freak out. Besides, I figured you needed time to get settled here before we threw all this at you. And I didn't want to tell you anything about Angel and me until I knew whether you wanted to stay here. Because if you didn't, then I would've taken you somewhere else, and the whole him and me issue would've been nonexistent anyway."

"That's where you're wrong, Dawn. I told you that we'd do whatever you wanted and I meant it," I say. "I made a promise to... I made a promise that I'd look out for you. And it's not just about that, anymore. You're the only person besides Dru who's ever trusted me, even knowing what I am. So I ... I want you to be happy, whatever it takes, wherever you need to be."

I can't help smiling. And I know that tone of voice. Sla... Someone else used to get that way, too. With the same 'don't argue with me, or I *will* hurt you' tone. "I... I want to be here," I admit. And I refuse to look at Angel; because that's the first time I've said it out loud. And I'm sure as hell not going to risk seeing that smirk on his face that tells me he knows he's won and --

He doesn't reply for a while. And I finally do glance up at him, because the suspense is going to make me scream. And why is it taking so long for him to answer? But when I look at him, he's looking back at me, with such an intensity in his gaze. And that's why he didn't answer. Because he wanted me to see the expression on his face when he says, "I do want that. I want you... you both, to stay."

"Well then we're staying," Dawn replies, her voice breaking the intense moment. Shit. I haven't felt *that* connected to him in... well over a hundred years. It was like we were the only two people in the entire world and ... Okay, Spike. Calm down. It was just a look.

"I won't lie; it'll take some time for me to get used to this whole ... relationship," she replies. "But I *will* get used to it. Besides, the concept of you two isn't something that would've occurred to me, but I can see it. You do have a century of history together. And especially now, it makes sense. I mean, who understands a vampire who can't kill humans better than another vampire who can't kill humans?

"Even though I *am* irritated that you two weren't honest with me," she says. "But I guess I understand what you were thinking. But you guys... I do think of you both kind of like brothers. Okay, eeew, not *both* brothers, because that would mean you two were... eeew. But you know what I'm saying, right? You can tell me *anything.*

She shakes her head and adds, "I just want you to be happy," she says. "Both of you. You've both been friends to me, and have taken care of me. And if you two being together will make both of you happier, then I'm the last person who will stand in your way."

I can't believe she's bein' so mature about all this. She has every right to throw a fit or be completely freaked. But she's not. And I should have known. She's a lot like her sister, she adapts fast. And she's got a heart big enough to even accept me, a soul-less evil demon.

I'm relieved. SO relieved. Because without Dawn's okay on this, Spike and I wouldn't have gone any further with our relationship. Our primary concern has to be her and what she needs and can deal with. But now that it's all out in the open, and she's okay, I want to jump up and down, like a little kid. This could actually work! I can't believe it.

"Well, since we've got all of this straightened out, my work here is done," Dawn says with a smile. She stifles a yawn. "And now I want what I came down here for in the first place: a glass of water."

Spike goes to get it for her and asks, "What were you doin' up anyway?" I love how protective he is around her. How he takes care of her. It reminds me he *is* more than just a killer. I always knew that, I just forgot it at one time. He was *always* capable of love, even though I pretended once that I believed otherwise. He doesn't need a soul to love, and that makes him a lot better than me. Why didn't I bother to face any of these truths about him before? I guess I was afraid to. Because then it would've been much harder to stay away.

"Just a dream," Dawn answers. "No big deal." I can see it in her eyes, though, it *was* a big deal. So she came down here, probably searching for one of us to help her chase the dream away.

"Just the usual, but I'm okay now," Dawn insists. "Believe me, just talking to you two and seeing the way you look at each other has made me forget the dream. I'm just tired and I want to go back to sleep."

Dawn noticed the way I was looking at Spike? Oh, great. How soon before the others figure it out? Or maybe they already ... Wait. Spike was looking at me, too? I look over at him but he refuses to meet my eyes.

She leaves and Spike isn't the only one who sighs in relief. "Well. I guess that talk with Dawn wasn't all that difficult, after all," he says as he turns to rinse out his mug. I finish mine also and walk over beside him to put my mug in the sink.

No. We need to talk. He's clearly nervous and uncertain about all of this. And I do want to make those insecurities go away, before we go any further with this. But I'm starting to remember why I was avoiding that talk. It isn't going to be easy. Not easy at *all.*

That felt like a punch in the gut. And I don't want to listen while he tells me all the reasons we shouldn't be doing what we were about to be doing when Dawn walked in. I thought... but I thought wrong. I jump off the counter and start past him.

"Hey," he grabs my arm, and turns me to face him. "What did I... Shit, I only meant that I'm glad because it gave me time to realize that we need to talk, before we jump into anything physical again. There's so much I want to tell you, to make you understand--"

"'m not interested, Mate," I growl. He frowns at me, guess he wasn't expecting that. "Yeah, you heard me, Angelus. I refuse to listen to you excuse the fact that for the past century you didn't give a fuck about me--"

Oh yeah, you did. But maybe you don't want to remember those fun times we shared in Sunnydale. I guess you'll get off easy, though, because I don't want to remember them either. So I just say, "Actions speak louder than words."

"Not just for her," he replies. "She got me to Sunnydale, but she did it by telling me you weren't feeding anymore. In that moment I realized how much I'd hate a world without you in it."

"I *wanted* to help you, Spike," he continues. He lets go of my arm; I didn't even realize he was still touching me. "I tried, for a century, not to. I tried to ignore how much I wanted *you*, but I couldn't. You're a part of me and nothing will ever change that. I want you back. I want *us* back, like we used to be. I know it won't happen overnight, especially not when you don't trust me. But I'm willing to do whatever it takes to rebuild that trust."

He reaches out and caresses my cheek and I can't help leaning into his hand. He wants me back. And I want him back. But it's not that easy. "You might be waiting a very long time for that," I warn, pulling away.

He's clearly confused so I try to explain. "I can't change how I think about this... us... overnight, like you said. Hell, let's get realistic, Angel. It might not happen for a few months, maybe even years."

"Do you?" I ask. "Do you really know how much I *don't* want to take that risk again? How much I don't want to trust you again and let you... And why *should* I?" I wonder. "Why should I trust you again? When every time I have... You took off."

"You couldn't know," he continues, that hard edge returning to his voice, "because you didn't feel it, Angelus. You don't know how hard I searched for you. You don't know how many hundreds of minions I sent out, trying to find you. And how when they couldn't do it, I would go myself, for weeks at a time, tracking down any lead I could come up with, no matter how insane or vague or unlikely it was. I did everything I could think of to find you. But I couldn't. You were just *gone.* It was like you had disappeared off the face of the earth!"

He stops, trying to get his emotions under control. I hate that he still feels that much pain when he thinks about those years of not knowing. If I'd realize a back then that he was so attached to me... no. It wouldn't have changed anything. My intention was never to hurt him, but I still probably would have left. I *had* to. I didn't have a choice in the matter.

"The worst part of it all was that I *knew* something terrible had happened," he continues. I have to look away from the sadness in those beautiful blue eyes, it's too much for me to see. "I could feel it inside me, not to mention that it wasn't like you to just up and walk away from m- from us like that. But when I confronted Darla with those concerns, she'd laugh and ridicule me for being 'overly sensitive'. You were 'away taking care of business', she said, but I didn't believe her. Not when I could see the awful truth in her eyes. Something worse than I could ever imagine had happened to you, and she couldn't bring herself to tell me or Dru about it.

"And Dru..." He trails off and shudders. I can *feel* the pain radiating from him. What horrible memory is he reliving? Some vision she had, with me in it? "The night after you left, she did too," he says, his voice almost a whisper. I don't have to ask him what he means by that, it's what he always called it when she got lost in her insanity.

He's quiet for so long that I start to wonder whether I should do something to bring him back. And then he looks at me. "Angel's gone! Gone forever! No more Daddy, they took him away!'" he screams. And god, the anguish in his face tears at my heart.

The anger in his voice and eyes makes me step back. I hate that it's the only thing I can do. I want so desperately to comfort him... but I can't. There's nothing I can do to ease his pain... the pain that *I* caused. And he's right. I didn't know what I'd done to him by leaving. But I'm starting to understand. By that one decision not to stay with my family, I caused Spike a century of pain and heartache.

He backs off. That's better. I just can't deal with him touching me *now*, after everything he's put me through? God, I wanted him to hold me, needed it, so badly, for so many fucking years, and he denied it to me. Well, now *he's* going to be denied, for once.

I turn my back on him, because if I'm going to talk about that night, I don't want him to see my tears. And unfortunately, I've never been able to keep them back when I think about ... that night.

I regret losing my temper the second the words are out of my mouth. She backs away from me fearfully and falls to her knees, crying softly. "Damn, Dru... Pet... I'm ... I'm sorry," I say, walking over and pulling her into my arms. "I'm not mad at you, Luv. It's just that... you can't keep doing this, Dru. We've talked about this, remember? You've said it yourself, more than once. Angelus... he's ...gone."

She cries harder. "I'm sorry," I repeat, holding her tighter. And I'm so tired. Tired of being the strong one, when I'm dying inside, too. Tired of listening to her ranting about how much pain he's in... It's all just too bloody much for me to take.

I look toward her and it takes me several seconds to convince myself I'm not hallucinating. "SIRE!!!!" I scramble to my feet and run to him, beating Drusilla there. Darla may not like it, but she can just go to hell, as far as I'm concerned. It's been a year, damn it! A year of not wrapping my arms around him and burying my face in his throat, breathing in his scent, feeling those strong arms around me, so tightly I think he'll break some if not all of my ribs, but not caring because he's making me feel like I *belong* somewhere.

It takes me a second to realize his arms *aren't* around me. I pull away and look up at him. And of course, I forgot he isn't one for public displays of affection. Especially when Darla's part of that public.

I laugh, bitterly and turn to look at him. "Could've fooled me, by the way you looked at me. So much fucking disappointment that I could practically taste it. And *that* was worse than any beating you'd ever given me," I continue, my voice shaking a little from repressed emotion.

"I just wanted to know what I'd done wrong, so I could fix it," I add. "But you wouldn't come near me, you wouldn't touch me, you wouldn't even *talk* to me, so I couldn't do *anything* to try to make it better!"

I blink as I hear the shattering of glass. I didn't even know I'd thrown it. I look over at Angel, but he doesn't give any indication that he noticed, or cares if he did notice. "I had held our fuckin' family together, protected the women, done my best to keep them happy... *everything* I thought you would've asked of me. And instead of thanks, you acted like I was this... thing... that you didn't even want to touch."

I hold up my hand and he shuts up again. "Like the glutton for punishment I am, I tried to make it better anyway. I did everything I could think of, hoping that *something* would get your attention and make you look at me the way you once did. Shit, *that's* why I killed that slayer," I admit. "I just wanted you to be proud of me, instead of looking at me like you couldn't stand the sight of me. And even *that* didn't work..."

"STOP!" I cut him off. "I don't want to hear your bloody excuses. I NEED you to fucking listen to me, whether you want to hear it or NOT!" I fight back the tears, caused by my own pain and the knowledge that I'm causing *him* pain, too. I don't *want* to hurt him, but I *have* to do this. I'm sick of holding all the damn pain inside, for the past century, letting it eat me alive. I *have* to get it out of my system. I need him to *know* what he did to me, and why I can't just forgive him, shrug it all off, take him back and let him tear my heart out all over again.

He's gonna listen? Well, of course he is, and he damn well better. "When you left, again, for the *second* time... When I woke to find you gone, I wasn't sure whether to be upset or relieved. Hell, on the bright side, at least that disapproving look wasn't there anymore. Even though I saw it, every day, for the next hundred years, every time I closed my eyes.

"And like the stupid moron I was, I still tried to find you, thinking I could fix things and make you want to come back. So many nights, I searched for you,Angelus, ignoring the urge to feed. The only thing that kept me from looking for your remains instead of you, was that I still felt you." I lay my hand over my heart. "Deep inside, every night, close enough to keep me looking. But you were always just one step away from me. I thought... Sometimes I was sure you did that on purpose. Did you?" I've always known the answer, but have never had the chance to confront him and ask. And I really need to hear him admit it.

I try not to let the tears surface. He fucking *had* to??? "Well, while you were *running* from us, Dru and I had to run from Darla's hatred. She... we didn't know why, but she decided she didn't want us around. And I know now it's because we were reminders of you. So we left. And I still kept looking for you. For ten years. And then, one day, I just ..." I wait for him to look into my eyes. ""I Decided that if you didn't want me around, then I had no choice but to give up. So I did. I gave up searching for you and I moved on."

The sadness in his expression is just too much for me, so I look away and start pacing. I just can't look in those eyes again and know how much my words are hurting him. I might not be able to keep going, if I do. "I was okay, without you," I shrug. I was. Really. Didn't miss him. "I took care 'o Dru, and we had some good times. I even managed to forget about you." Not always, and not completely. Never completely. He haunted my dreams... but I won't tell him that. I'm not ready to let him know it. Not now, maybe not ever.

It hurts to hear that name from *his* lips, the name he never accepted, before something happened to make me not his William anymore. But ... he's smiling, and he *seems* happy to see me... so maybe--

Shit. Sire... I missed you-- "I did. I'm surrounded by idiots," I shrug. "What's new with you?" Where have you been? Why did you leave us? Do you still hate me,or can you find a way to come back to me?

I shake off the memory and look up at him. "When you offered Xander to me, I wanted to believe... but as I got closer to you, I felt that old disappointment that you still couldn't hide from me. And then when I found out about the soul,it--"

It broke my heart, again, into a million tiny pieces that I never managed to mend back together. "I... I knew I had to accept the fact that Angelus was*still* gone, and you were just some new ... demon that looked like him." And I hated it. I hated looking at you and knowing you weren't the sire I wanted, and that *I* had made you want to go away.

"And yes, I wanted to destroy you. I couldn't look at you and know that you weren't him... So I thought: if you were gone, it would make that pain inside me just stop. So I tried to make you go away forever... but it didn't make it stop. Every little injury I inflicted on you just hurt *me*, too.

I shake my head and turn away. I won't think about those nights of pain. I can't. Denial is the only way I can look at him without wanting to torture him slowly. "So I finally got it," I add, trying to keep my voice steady even though I want to just scream, or cry... *something* to make the pain just fucking *stop* -- even for just a few seconds. "I could never have my sire back again, not the way it had been. And that's why I helped send you to Hell, so I could get rid of you forever."

I run my hand through my hair and look over at him. "And now... after all that, you want me to just...let it go, move on, because you've *finally*, after a century, decided you want me back? I... I don't know... I don't think I can do that," I shrug.

I walk over to the table and sit down. He sits down next to me and I look up into his eyes. And I don't know why I didn't notice it before, but that disappointment I used to see in those brown eyes isn't there, anymore. Just the sadness. And shit, I *want* to believe. I *want* to think I can trust him again. I *want* to be convinced that this time it be different...

"You don't *think* you can..." he says slowly. "But... you don't know, do you? You... do you think it's possible?" he wonders. "Or do you ... do you just hate me too much to get past it?" he wonders, and he looks so hopeless. "God, Will, I wouldn't blame you if you did. I was so selfish... "

And isn't this something I once thought I wanted, so desperately? To see him hurting, even half as much as he hurt me? Well, I got it, finally. He looks so incredibly miserable at the possibility that all that's left, when I look at him, is hate.

And I wish he were right. The last century would've been so much easier on me if that were true. But it isn't, and I can't let him think it is. Yet again, just seeing him miserable only makes *me* more miserable. I just don't want that for him, and I don't think I ever did.

And I know, if I take this risk and let him know it's not all about hate and distrust, I'm giving him the power to kill me inside, one more time. But if we're going to *really* try to be together again, then I have to take some risks. We both do. And I *do* want that, don't I? Of course I do. Otherwise, I wouldn't have come to L.A. I want us together again. I *need* that. Even if he hurts me and... No. I can't think like that. I have to hope. If I don't, there's no point in any of this.

"No," I say, softly. "Shit, Angel... I didn't hate you. I .. I *wanted* to, sometimes. But after everything I did to hurt you, I hurt too. And I hated myself for causing my sire pain... I still thought of you that way, and that hasn't changed."

"But, all that said, I'm not ready yet to just let everything go," I add. "I can't help believing that if I trust you again, you'll leave, *again*. So I'm going to have a lot of trouble getting to the point where I *can* trust you. Because if you do leave..."

Okay. So that's the issue. The *core* obstacle between us. Spike doesn't trust me not to hurt him again. And I could point out that since he's hurt me too, I shouldn't be willing to trust him either. But I won't do that. Because the truth is I was - am - his sire and I betrayed him when I left him, either literally or emotionally. And everything he's done since has been a reaction to the ways *I've* hurt *him*.

And I don't think it ever occurred to me before tonight how much I *did* hurt him. Quite honestly, I was too wrapped up in my own pain to bother noticing his. But I see it now and I understand why he's reluctant to trust me.

He gets up and walks over to the counter. I stay seated, even though I want to go to him and just take him in my arms and... No. We're not at that place yet. And until we are - though I'm not sure we'll *ever* get there - I can't threaten him by pushing the issue of physical closeness.

"I could say I'm sorry, but somehow that doesn't seem like enough," I say. "You did and do have every right to have doubts about this, Spike. I haven't been a decent sire to you, but that curse... it..."

Angel winces and I hate hurting him, but he needs to stop blaming everyone and everything other than himself. Part of us getting past this - if we ever *can* - is that he has to accept that *he* did this to me, to us.

"You're right," he says, to my complete surprise. "I'll admit that after my run-in with the gypsies, I was only thinking about how to make *my* existence a little easier. I let you and the rest of my family down by walking away. But I did miss you and that's why I returned to you, in China.

"I knew that you saw the way I felt when I saw how good you were at being a vampire, though. And your pain at not understanding cut into my heart. I hated myself for not being able to congratulate you on the killing of your first slayer. I wanted to be proud of you, and a part of me was... but I couldn't tell you that. The soul wouldn't let me."

He looks up at me, and the disbelief in his eyes really hurts. I hate that if we have any chance of being together, he has to revisit his old insecurities again. "Yes, Will," I say. "I *was* proud of you," I repeat. And God, it feels good to say it out loud. Fuck the guilt; he needs to hear it. He always did. And how he reacts... I see the tears fill his eyes, before he hops off the counter and walks to the refrigerator, his back to me. I should have said those words a century ago.

"I'm sorry you never knew..." I add. "I just couldn't live with the guilt caused by seeing what you'd become, Will. I never hated you, though, nor was I disappointed in you. I sure as hell never wanted you gone," I say. "After all, you were only doing what I had trained you to do. That's why I left. I couldn't be what you deserved. I thought it was the best decision, for all of us. I thought about explaining... but I decided it would be better if you could hate me. I assumed you'd be able to move on better that way.

"And for a century, I was alone. But I kept up with any news of my childer, especially you. And when you showed up in Sunnydale, I *was* happy to see you. You'll never know how much."

"Not long enough to change how well you know me," I reply, venturing a little smile. "We were too close for that, Will. It wasn't an act. It *killed* me to let you know about my soul and see that hope in your eyes die away. I *did* still want you in my life. I just ... I didn't know how to make that happen. But I didn't want to destroy you, either, and that's why I never tried very hard to do that. Not after you came after me, or Buffy or anyone else.... I couldn't. I could *never* destroy my favorite childe."

I was his favorite? I never knew... I mean, I'd hoped, but he never... He smiles, letting me know he saw how much that affected me. I quickly go back to the indifferent look I've perfected in the past century, but it's too late. And I don't care. I just... I was his favorite?

I really, really hate those fucking Gypsies. I hate Darla for being stupid enough to actually tempt them. And I *really* hate that I haven't had any choice but to spend the last few years fighting my sire.

"What? How did you..." I don't understand. I walk closer and lay my hand on his shoulder. He flinches but I don't remove my hand. He's trembling. From fear? No... not really. I can't tell *exactly* what he's feeling right now. His emotions... they're all muddled. And I suppose that's understandable, considering the topic of conversation.

"But I ruined her plan," he whispers. "And it's all *MY * fault that you were stuck with that fucking soul for the past CENTURY!" he yells. He jumps up suddenly, throwing the table across the room.

He growls again, pulling away from me, and smashes a third chair against the wall. "IF SHE'D JUST LET ME IN ON THE DAMN PLAN, WE COULD'VE BROUGHT YOU BACK!" He turns and punches the wall, putting a hole in it.

I duck as he starts throwing glasses, "I DIDN'T DO IT ON PURPOSE! I DIDN'T WANT YOU TO STAY AWAY!! I JUST DIDN'T FUCKING *KNOW*!" he half-sobs, half-screams, his eyes begging me to understand.

And I don't know what to say. I can't imagine how he could be remotely responsible for not removing the curse, when as he said he didn't even know about it. But he obviously thinks he *is* responsible for ruining something.

He growls and grabs the nearest thing - another glass - throwing it at the wall. And that's more than enough of this. I've always put up with minor tantrums from him, because I understand the need to work out your frustrations. But if he keeps it up, he's going to hurt him--

"LET ME GO!" he growls, struggling frantically to break free. And this isn't an unusual situation to be in. Breaking things *was* always Will's way of dealing with any painful situations. I haven't had to calm him down in a very long time, but I still remember how to.

"William, STOP it!" I demand. And he stills, not because he wants to, but because my tone made it clear that was a direct order from his sire. And I hated pulling rank on him, but it *was* the best way to get him under control again.

"You don't have to apologize, Will," I say, running my fingers through his hair. "I never really liked that dining room set all that much anyway," I joke. He looks up and smiles a bit at that, which means he's in control of his emotions again. I let him go, as reluctant as I am to stop touching him, and step back a little.

He looks up at me briefly, then back at the floor. "Darla, Dru and I went to visit the Gypsies, after you left the first time," he says. "She didn't tell us why, she just told us to kill as many as we could." He starts pacing and I let him, but pay close attention for signs of yet another round of breaking things. "She never said a thing about a curse or why we were there... so we killed them. And as it turns out we weren't supposed to kill the girl's relatives but... We - *I*- ruined her plan, by doing just that. And after that, she couldn't scare the last member of the family into revoking the curse."

He stops, and stares at the floor. "She was so fucking *pissed*... And afterward... when I found out about your soul. God, things could have been different, Angelus. If I hadn't screwed it all up."

He looks up at me again, and I can feel his fear. In his mind he thinks he deserves to be punished. And before I can say anything he looks away again, and whispers, "I'm so sorry."

The silence is deafening. He has every right to be furious with me for killing off the last of those Gypsies. I mean, I was his childe and I let him down. I'd deserve it, if he beat me to a bloody mess. Darla did it, even though she never explained why. And now that I know... I'm just glad it's out in the open. I've been wondering, for years, what he'd do if he found out.

I flinch when I feel his hand on my cheek "It wasn't your fault, Will," he says. "Darla didn't tell you, so you had no way of knowing the consequences of your actions. I don't blame you and you shouldn't blame yourself."

"We've both done things to hurt each other," he adds. "There's no point in keeping score here. All I want is a chance to prove to you that I can do things differently. Just a chance. I can't promise that I'll never hurt you, but I can promise that if I do, it won't be intentional. And if things get difficult, I won't run away this time. I'll stay and try to work it out."

He takes my face in his hands. "I am, Will. I know I haven't acted like it, but if you'll have me, I'll *be* your sire again. But I don't want to control you. You've become a master vampire in your own right, and a damn good one. One I... one I was and still am so proud of."

"You know, I wish I could take more credit for that," he says with a smile. "But what I'm trying to say is we're more equals now, and that's all right with me. So while I will *always* be your sire and will always be here for you in that way, I also want... I was hoping that maybe... we could try to be something *more* than sire and childe? Maybe ..."

Oh god. Maybe there were two things I wanted to hear from those lips. And I... I never thought... I *really* never thought... Fuck. I open my mouth to say something, anything, but I can't. It's just... too much.

He just continues looking at me, with this expression of complete disbelief. But that's all right. I'll prove it to him. I'll do whatever it takes, for the next few hundred years, if necessary, until he believes it.

I grab his hips and pull him to me. I kiss him, and oh god, I can taste his tears. He's crying. And now I'm crying. But it's understandable, this separation has been hell for both of us. But it's over now. I'm never letting him go again. It won't be easy to be together, but I don't care. He's mine and I need him. Maybe as much as - possibly more than - he needs me.

My arms slip around his waist and I rub his lower back as I deepen the kiss. His hands are in my hair, fingernails digging into my scalp. I growl and pull him closer, thrusting against him. He gasps, "Angel..."

I can't help smiling in response. Because coming from him, that sounds incredibly logical. And like I'd *ever* pass up the urge to fu-- No. It won't be fucking. Not anymore. Because I meant what I told him, I do love him. I have for so long... not the same way I loved Darla - because I did love her once - and not the same way I loved Buffy.

And I want to show him how much love I feel. I want to make love to him. Even if for him, it's still a fuck, that's all right. I am so grateful that he's giving me - giving us - one more chance. He probably doesn't love me anymore. He might not even like me very much. But I have time to change that, and show him he can let me into his heart again.

I grab him and shove him back against the counter, before I pin him there with my body and devour his mouth. Fuck, I need him. But I can't hold back the whimper as my injury reminds me of its existence. Damn it.

That wasn't an 'I'm turned on' whimper, that was an 'I'm in pain' whimper. I push him back and say, "Relax, 'm not goin' anywhere. Wouldn't want you to start bleeding all over the place again from getting overly excited. Although it *is* flatterin' that you want me that much."

That would be a first. We've slept in separate rooms ever since I got here. I was starting to think... but not anymore. I get it now. Things are just so fucking complicated. He was tryin' to respect my need for space.

But I never needed *that* much space. "Yeah sure," I shrug, catching his look of relief before we walk out through the lobby and up the stairs in silence. And I guess we're both thinking about ... things.

Me, still about his revelation earlier that he loves me. I wanted, so many times back in the day, to hear those words. But I never did. Oh sure, he showed me, sometimes so clearly I *knew* it. But I never knew it without a doubt. And it never occurred to me how much I needed to know it, until he said it and I couldn't keep myself from cryin' like a baby.

But I don't know how long he's loved me. Maybe it's a recent thing... or maybe ... I just... I want to know... but I don 't. Because if it's not recent, then I'll want to know why he...

"What is it?" he asks. Damn it, he always was too good at reading me. And I want to ask, but I can't. "Will? If you need to say something, then just say it. You were right, we need to get all of this out in the open."

Oh. And that's a very good question. One that deserves an answer. "To be completely honest with you, I'm not sure," I say. "I realized it... a few months after I turned you." That wasn't easy to tell him, but it's the truth. I was just unwilling to voice my emotions, back then. Love was an emotion for weaklings, or so I believed before my soul was returned to me, *and* after I lost it again. *Especially* after I lost it again.

"Don't," he says, knocking my hand away and turning his back on me. And I can taste the ... I don't know what it is. Pain. Incredible pain. He's trembling, trying to keep himself from losing it again.

"I said fucking *don't*!" he snaps, his voice strained. He walks over to the window and pulls the curtains back. He looks out over the city, clearly trying to get his emotions under control.

Something I said just now put us light-years apart again. But I don't know *what* it was. I admitted I've always loved him, and how is that not a *good* thing? I know I didn't show it at times. Especially not in Sunny... Oh.

Did I *ever* *not* show it in Sunnydale. When I lost my soul, there were *two* people I tried to destroy: Buffy... and Spike, both of them because they made me love. However, I was more ... creative with my torture when it came to Spike. Buffy only made the soul love. Spike... he made the demon love. And that was a worse offense, in my eyes.

And yes, Spike, I did all those things *because* I loved you, and I hated that feeling. I really am a sick fuck. I won't bother to say I'm sorry, because there's no way those words wouldn't sound so incredibly hollow... They're just words. They're far from enough to take away...

"That you are, *Spike*. And now, if you remind me how talented that lying little mouth of yours can be, there's a chance I won't let the minions have their way with you later.

And I can't believe he even let me within six feet of him, that night I returned to Sunnydale. After the way I ... Or maybe he repressed those memories, the way I almost succeed in doing most of the time.

He hasn't said a fucking word... but that's the way I want it. I can't... Not after ... I could live with those memories when I thought he'd done them out of hate. But now... knowing that he did it because he *loved* me? I don't know if I can deal with that.

I tense when I feel arms slide around my waist. He pulls me back against his chest and just holds me. And I'm so fucking torn. I want to melt into those arms, but I also want to tear them from their sockets...

I reach out to touch him again, but think better of it. I drop my hand to my side and turn away. I hear him leave, but I don't watch. I feel like if I do, I won't be able to let him go.

And I think... no, I *know* I've lost him again. If I ever really *had* him this time, and that is up for debate. Either way, any chance seems to have dissolved and we're back to being... apart. Except this time, it was him walking away. And yes, I recognize the poetic justice in that fact.

Fuck. I hate it when I can't sleep. I toss and turn; the sheets get all tangled. And I'm out of fucking cigarettes. Shit, I *meant* to tell Angel to get me more when he was out. Damn it.

And after everything he did to me, once upon a time, shit, he shouldn't be able to do this to me. But he does, because I... Yes, okay, I still love him. And that's really unfuckingbelievably sick, even for a demon.

But it's true. That's why I'm lying here, have been for the past three hours, miserable. Wanting his damn arms around me, even though he's caused me more pain than any other individual in my whole fucking life.

And it's not just because I love him. It's ... he's my sire. We have a bond and it won't go away. I can't help needing him. It's why I can't hate him. He's a part of me, and I'm a part of him, and ...

And I *know* he's sorry. He can never be sorry enough, but he *is* sorry. I saw the look in his eyes when he realized I was thinking about good old Sunnydale memories. And he knows what he did. And I doubt he's proud of those things. The fucking soul wouldn't *let* him be. Not for ...

I sigh and kick the sheets away. He's probably asleep, though. He's had a hundred years practice at living with unpleasant memories. I'll get to his room and he'll be sound asleep.

Oh. He's not... And as I push the door open and step inside, I'm not sure why I'm here. I don't know what to say. I didn't exactly plan it out, or anything. I was assuming he'd be asleep and I'd just go back to my room and...

His eyes... Yeah, he's sorry. He doesn't know how to say it, but he *is* saying it, because the last of my defenses are crumbling and I don't know what to say or do. All I know is I need... him.

Yeah, that's my sire. Eloquence was never his thing when it came to difficult moments. "Can't ever sleep well on that lumpy bed," I reply. And yes, I know that's a very sad excuse coming from someone who could sleep on a tomb or a hard floor if he had to. Doesn't mean I ever *wanted* to, though.

He doesn't say anything, but he pulls the sheets back. Good. I didn't have to ask. I walk over and slip under the sheets, facing him. He brushes his thumb over my cheekbone and I close my eyes and sigh. It's not fair that those hands can either bruise me or soothe me, and do both so easily.

I feel his lips press against mine, hesitantly. He nibbles at my lower lip, making me moan. And that's his opportunity to thrust his tongue inside my mouth. He's still so gentle, though. There's passion, but it's reigned in, as if he knows that getting too intense would set off the wrong warning signals in my head. All the memories, they're still so close to the surface...

I guess that makes sense, though. We just brought up a lot of painful things, so these other memories that I doubt we'll *ever* be able to talk about *would* come up. Not like I needed the reminder.

God, I thought...But he's still willing. And I really don't deserve it, but I'm getting it anyway and I'm so fucking grateful for that. So I wrap my arms around his waist and pull him close. He's trembling, I don't know whether it's from the emotions he's been holding in, or the memories, or ... maybe a combination of things.

He tucks his head under my chin, wrapping an arm around me. All right. If he doesn't want anything more right now than this, that's perfectly okay with me. Sleeping with him in my arms is more than I ever imagined I'd have again.

I wake up to the unique feeling of being in someone's arms, our legs tangled together and SHIT I'm hard. It's Angel, so of course that explains why I'm hard. He's hard, too, which makes it much more interesting.

But I'm awake now, and horny and... by the looks of the bit of daylight peeking around the curtains, it's about an hour or two before sunset. Angel's still sound asleep, but I don't care about that.

It's been so long since I've really let myself admire his beauty. 'Face of an Angel' - that's what Darla said to him, to make him take that stupid name. But it *is* true. He looks like something that fell outta Heaven. There I go, channeling the poet.

Back when things were still good, I used to wake up before him on purpose, because I wanted to just lie next to him and look at him. I could never get enough of him. Usually he'd feel my eyes on him and wake up. *That's* the kind of connection we used to share. And I can't help wondering if we still share it.

I ease him onto his back and let my eyes roam over his perfect body. Back in the day, I'd only be able to do that for about five or ten minutes, before he'd know it. He'd wake up and say something like -- "See something you like, m'lad?"

Yeah, just like-- Oh. I glance up at him and he's looking at me so intensely. And God, that hint of an Irish accent - it must have slipped out because he just woke up. Whatever the reason though, it makes my cock twitch and a shiver run down my spine.

I run my fingers lightly over his chest, smiling when the slight touch makes his nipples peak. It may have been a hundred or so years since last I touched him like this, but I still remember what he likes.

Spike's incredible. And the way he's looking at me, so reverently, and touching me, so gently, I don't know whether to cry or laugh from joy. He still wants me. My favorite childe still wants me.

I grab the base of his skull and guide him to me for a kiss. I intend it to be gentle and chaste but he has something else in mind. He shifts and I taste his blood. Oh god!

He grins and slides down my body, licking and nipping along the way. "Spike, you don't have to do this." That's what I try to say, but what comes out is something more like: "Spike, yyyyaaaaaaaaaaarrrrrrrgg!" as he yanks my boxers down to my hips and then deep-throats me, swallowing around my cock, coaxing me back to full arousal and trying to bring me over the edge again all at once.

"Yesssss," I hiss, as my cock throbs back to life. I somehow remind myself not to thrust as he moves up and down along my length. He always hated that. I slide my fingers through his hair, not guiding him, he's quite talented enough as it is. I just want to maintain as much physical contact as possible.

I wasn't planning on sucking him off, but he tasted so good that I just couldn't help myself. This doesn't mean we're back to the old patterns, though. If we were, he'd be grabbing my head and fucking my mouth. He isn't doing that, though. He's letting me do what I want, and he's clearly not unimpressed with my skills.

"Come... if you want... don't have to... don't wait..." he gasps. And shit. I... I know he *said* he didn't want our relationship just to be sire/childe, but... I didn't really think he *meant* it. He's always been such a control freak.

"Spike," he whimpers again as I squeeze his balls gently. I scrape my teeth lightly against his cock as I pull up and he goes rigid. I take him back in all the way, and purr around his length and that's it for Angel.

I pull his boxers the rest of the way off his legs, because I don't think he can move yet. And it's pretty flatterin' to discover that I haven't lost my touch. I take off my own boxers, and use them to clean the cum off myself. I don't feel self-conscious about being naked around him; it's not like he hasn't seen my body hundreds of times before.

And shit. Only Angel could say that to me and survive it. Because he's so bloody sweet when he wants to be. And don't get me wrong, it's fucking irresistible. Especially to me. That romantic shit *always* got to me.

Spike glances up at me and the lust is evident in his eyes. I reach out for him and he crawls up the bed toward me, lying on top of me me and leaning in for a kiss. And this kiss is slower, but no less passionate, as we take our time just enjoying the feeling of our tongues sliding together, our teeth nipping at each others lips and tongues, the unique taste of each other.

I slide a hand down his body to cup his ass and he moans, thrusting his hardness against my hip. And I want him, I want to make love to him, make him feel how much I love him and how serious I am about this. About us.

I thrust my tongue inside his mouth and he suckles it, making me whimper. And I want to make *him* whimper, scream, and moan, the way he's done to me so many times before. I want to feel his body contracting around me as he comes. Because I remember how amazing it is, but I have a feeling it can be so much *more* amazing when he comes from my making love to him.

I move my hand between his ass cheeks, sliding a finger down toward his hole. He bucks against my hip again, as I massage the sensitive skin around it, gently. I press against his entrance, pushing just the tip of my finger inside him, but no farther. He tears his mouth away from mine, moaning, "Angel..."

His hand trails up along my chest to rub and pinch one of my nipples. "Yeah, that's good, Will," I purr. I jerk and gasp when he closes his mouth around my nipple, sucking and nibbling it. "Oh... god, that feels... so amazing," I groan.

"Ssh," I whisper against his hair. "I've no intention of denying you what you want," I try to reassure him. "Besides the fact that I want it too, so much." He seems pacified for the moment, returning to the work of his hands and teeth on my skin. Meanwhile, I reach blindly with my other arm toward the bedside table. ... There. And I tug the drawer open and find the lube I bought a few days ago, just in case, because with Spike... I would've *hated* to be caught unprepared.

But I am prepared, and I'm glad it occurred to me to make certain of that. I glance at the label... Chocolate flavored? Okay. Whatever, not like I'm planning to-- Oh. On second thought...

I bite down on his nipple, because I have the sudden feeling I'm not the object of his undivided attention. And I just hate when that happens. "SPIKE!" he yelps, so that's better. At least he knows who he's with.

I move to roll over onto my back when he manages to untangle our limbs and sit up next to me. But he puts his hand on my shoulder. "No. Stay on your stomach." I frown and he adds, "Please?"

"Thank you," he smiles and moves to straddle my thighs. I feel him slide down my body and before I can ask him where the fuck he thinks he's going, I feel something wet against my hole ... Oh, fuck me, is that his *tongue*?? I turn my head and groan as I realize that shit, it is. And Angelus never, *ever*, did--

"OHGODYES!" I scream as I feel his tongue thrust inside my passage. And bloody fucking hell, I've never... "Angel," I whimper, fisting the sheets. Shit, he's flicking the tip of his tongue over my prostate. "Please!" I beg, thrusting against the mattress, needing to come so badly.

Suddenly, that wonderful tongue is gone. But before I can protest, he's got something pressed against my hole and he squeezes this substance inside me and why does it smell like chocolate?

"OHFUCKME!" And I don't care why anymore, because he's got two fingers inside me, and I shiver as he rubs them along my prostate. "GODTHERE!" I scream and then whimper as he scratches a nail along it.

"YES! Fucking THERE, you arsehole!" I scream, bucking back against him and feeling like I'm going to pass out from the pleasure/pain. And then I can't say anything, I just gasp when he presses his lips to my hole and starts sucking as he thrusts his tongue inside again, over and over and over...

"NOOOOOOO!" he wails when I slip a hand under him and clamp my hand around the base of his cock. And I can almost hear what he's thinking. 'He promised it would be different. He said it wouldn't be like this!'

Before he can come up with any witty response, I slide three fingers back into his slick hole. He whimpers and gasps as I stretch his passage. And shit, the noises he made when I was tonguing him had *me* ready to come. That, and feeling his body contracting around my tongue the same way it would around my cock. Fuck.

I lick my way up his spine, smiling when he shudders. I kiss and bite his neck and shoulders, as I remove my hand from his cock, knowing that he'll be able to retain control without my assistance. That's one thing I taught him well. I drape my body over his, bracing myself with one hand, as I continue to move the fingers of my other in and out of him.

He's moaning, and whimpering and saying things I don't think he even realizes. "Angel...ohgod... just like that, Luv.... So fucking good... Ohgod.... Need you... Please...More...Harder!"

Okay. I know he's ready for me. He has been for a while, but I just love to pleasure him, to make him moan and whimper. And beg, yeah. I can't *completely* reign in that side of me.

I buck back against him as he starts scratching his nails over my prostate repeatedly, driving me fucking insane. "Angel!" I yell. "Damn it, fuck me!" I demand. Even though his fingers feel so good inside me, and he knows just how to touch me to make me whimper--

"No," he says, wrapping his arm around my waist and pulling me back... Shit... My back is against his chest as I straddle his thighs, his fingers sliding even deeper inside me. Fuck... Can't help the shudder that runs through my body. And it takes my brain a moment to remind me that I was in the process of getting pissed off at him for using me again--

"You didn't let me finish," he says, his lips grazing my ear. And he continues moving just the tips of his fingers, slightly, back and forth over my prostate. Shit. I've never felt so much when we were together, before. Angelus never cared *this* much for my pleasure. Oh sure, he'd make sure I got off too. But he was never this giving... And Angel... last time, I just needed a fast, hard fuck, and he gave it to me.

"Just making sure you were still with me," he replies. "I don't want to fuck you--" And that's what I was pissed about, thanks for remindin' me. But shit, he doesn't let go of me. Before I can yell again, he says, "But I do want to make love to you."

I've been alone with my thoughts for *far* too long if I've got my boy in my arms, around my fingers, having just agreed to let me make love to him, and instead of doing that, I'm *thinking*.

He moves quickly, spinning around and lying down on the bed, looking at me expectantly. Alright, he *does* want me. And I want him, so I won't keep him waiting any longer. I grab the lube, squeezing more of it onto my cock, before moving between his legs. I grab him by the hips and press my cock against his entrance, moaning as he lets me inside. Just the tip... and oh fuck.

He wraps his legs around my hips and tries to pull me deeper, but I resist. I want to savor every delicious inch as I push further, as slowly as possible. "Shit, Will..." I groan. "Forgot how good it feels... inside you."

He whimpers and I look into his eyes. They tell me everything I need to know. There's so much need there, so much... love? I can only hope. "Angel..." he moans. "Please... need more..."

Yeah, like I'd *ever* forget where that sweet spot is? Not likely. Watching him arch his back, squeeze his eyes shut, and pant for breath is almost as good as an orgasm, in and of itself.

And yeah, I do enjoy tormenting him, especially when he's enjoying it too. So I withdraw, slowly, enough to let the tip of my cock brush over his prostate again. He gasps and grabs my biceps, his fingernails digging in, making cuts that bleed just a little. I groan in response. Shit, Boy. I think *you*'re trying to kill *me*.

Fuck. He's never been this way with me, so slow and gentle. And I know I'm moaning and whimpering like a bitch in heat, but this is just... it's so... I don't ever want it to end. Is this the way he made love to--

"Will... I love you so much," he whispers. I open my eyes - I must have shut them the last time he brushed against my prostate. And damn, his eyes ... when I look into them, I believe him.

Damn, I didn't realize that I'd dug my nails in that deep... I pull my hands away from his arms and lick my fingertips, because sire's blood is too good to waste. He groans as he watches me and I grin, pulling his head to mine so I can kiss him.

He's still moving deeper into me, so slowly that I *want* to scream and just pull him all the way inside, because I *need* to feel him, *all* of him. But I don't do that, because this... as infuriating as it is, since I *hate* delayed gratification, it also feels so fucking amazing. Every second he fills me a little more, and I can feel his cock twitching as he holds back from just slamming into me. My passage is contracting around him repeatedly as he stretches me, a little more at a time... And this is ... incredible.

His tongue slides against mine, along the roof of my mouth, over my incisors and FUCK I don't know why that always turns me on, but it does. And he knows it. He remembers everything.

"I know," I reply. Because I do. There aren't any words to explain how incredible it feels, being joined like this, because it's something we've never experienced together, before. This is different, but so much better. I move my legs from around his hips and pull my knees up to my chest. He slides even deeper inside me, and we both whimper.

You're not the only one, Will. I kiss him deeply as I move my hips just slightly. Shallow thrusts at first, because I just can't bring myself to leave him. He whimpers and throws his head back, gasping my name.

Deprived of his mouth, I move to his throat. I latch onto the skin just over where his pulse would be if he were still alive, and suck, hard enough to leave a mark. It's a shame it'll only be temporary. It's enough to make him moan, and buck his hips up, driving me deeper inside him.

Shit, I've *never* felt this with him before. And I can't believe I was so stupid as to not even *try* to. But there's no point in berating myself over those wasted years. I have him with me, now, and I'll spend the rest of my existence showing him what he means to me.

He drapes his legs over my shoulders and grabs my head, pulling me to him for another kiss. And I don't object to that at all. I love kissing my boy, that's one thing that has never and will never change. I pull out further each time I withdraw from his body, but I can't help whimpering when I do. I slide back in so slowly, savoring every shudder, whimper, and moan that action elicits from him.

I can feel his hard cock, twitching against my stomach, and I don't want to neglect any aspect of pleasuring my Will. So, still bracing myself with one hand, I move the other between us and close my fingers around his cock, mimicking my slow thrusts in and out of him.

He whimpers into my mouth and I know he's so close. And I am too... And though I want to make this last for hours, I also want to give my Will exactly what he wants. And he *has* held out *this* long, all because I asked him.

"Angel..." he whimpers as I brush over his prostate again. "Angel... god... need to come... can't hold on any longer... want you to come with me, need to feel you filling me."

And then, as I slide into him again, he clamps down on my cock, squeezing it painfully. His fangs sink into my throat and I scream, "FUCKWILL!" as I come, shooting my seed deep inside him. And oh god, I didn't even realize he'd shifted... but shit... he's drinking from me... without my permission... He understands ... I continue thrusting into him, riding out an orgasm that feels like it's never going to end.

I shift as well, sliding my own fangs into his shoulder. He tears his mouth away from my throat and screams, "ANGEL! SHIT!" as he climaxes, his cum shooting onto my stomach and hand.

Angel collapses on top of me and licks at the puncture wounds on my shoulder, helping them close. And I don't want him to leave. The only time I feel so whole - so complete - is when he's inside me. But unfortunately our bodies have other ideas, and his spent cock slides from my hole.

He rolls onto his side next to me, and pulls me onto my side as well, against him, sliding a leg between mine. And okay, I can deal with this, 'cuz it's not bad. Not bad at all.

Oh. So it wasn't just me? I look into his eyes. "Never?" I ask, because I find that a little hard to believe. Surely, with Darla or B-- Someone else, it was that intense - or more so.

He cradles my face in his hands and kisses me gently. "Never. I have never felt something so powerful, before. I've never felt this comfortable with anyone, so comfortable just being *me*. I don't have to pretend, with you. I don't have to deny any part of what I am. I... I feel like you accept all sides of me."

He tucks his head under my chin, not saying a word. And I just wait; I know what I told him has to be quite a revelation to him. I didn't know how he'd react, but I felt like he deserved to know, because it's the truth. I have *never* felt anything that incredible with anyone else, not even Darla or Buffy. Neither of them could completely accept me. Darla hated my softer side, especially when I showed it to anyone but her. And after the soul, she hated *me*. And Buffy needed to believe that I was all good, and not bad, when that just wasn't the case. But she was so stuck on the you're-Angel-not-Angelus argument that I began to believe her. She made me believe that I wasn't a demon, that I deserved happiness and love and redemption ... and that's what the curse meant by perfect happiness: forgetting what I was. And *that's* why I lost my soul with her.

That's why I'll *never* lose my soul with Spike. As happy as he makes me, it's the happiness caused by being accepted for what I am - *all* of me. And that's also why it's more intense than anything I've ever felt with any other lover.

Oh. I tip his chin up so he'll look at me. "Will... Spike... Yes. I accept what you are. I told you, I left because I felt torn between wanting to be proud of what you'd become and feeling guilty that I wasn't disgusted by you.

"But I've learned to accept what I am... and I can accept what you are, too. I can be with you and love you without feeling guilty about it now," I continue. "I'm just sorry it took me so long to get to that point."

He shrugs and rests his head against my chest. "It did *take* you long enough," he says. "But... I guess... better late than never? 'Sides, we have a lot of time apart to make up for. And I think that'll be pretty damn fun."

I smile and pull him closer. "I will'na argue with that, m'boy," I say, grinning wider when he moans softly. William always loved my Irish brogue, and I guess that's one of many things that hasn't changed. Many other things have... some for the better, some not so much.

And as much as I hate how many years we spent apart, how much pain I caused him, I can't take it back. And perhaps the years apart *had* to be. Maybe I just had to learn to accept myself, before I could let anyone else do that. And now that I have, and I've found someone else who does... I can have my Will back, and this time we can be true lovers and not just sire and childe.

I never even dreamed that I would have this chance to make it right between us, but now I do. Now we can do all the things I thought about, this past century, when I dreamed about what we *could* have done with those lost years. And I plan on spending the rest of eternity, making all those dreams of mine, as well as any dreams of his, a reality.