By Her Side

by Criss Moody

Date: May 14th, 2001
Disclaimer: Did I write the crappiest excuse for a crossover ever? No? Then I must not own them.
Spoilers: Through Epiphany (Angel) and Forever (Buffy)
Summary: Angel releases some tension after his night spent comforting Buffy.
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Angel/Spike, threads of Angel/Buffy and Buffy/Spike
Feedback: I get crabby without. If you like it, tell me. If you hate it, blame Donna, it was all her idea.
Notes and Thanks: Donna asked. And begged. And pleaded. Hope this satisfies. Jess betaed and demanded more out of me than I felt like giving, but did because I worship her. Rabbit gave a last read through for title help.

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Hours spent by Buffy’s side, casual, platonic embrace had left Angel exhausted. So hard to keep his good intentions in mind when her sweet vanilla flesh surrounded him and he knew that he could get away with anything right then. Ripping away the boundaries and the clothes to get at her warm, silk skin. Creamy and endless, and so fucking mortal it hurt to think about it.

So many times he'd bit back, "Buffy, I had an epiphany," or "Buffy, I've been through so much in the last few months." Not because he didn't want her to know, but because she didn't care. Not then. Not at her mother's grave. Buffy needed him to be sweet, gentle Angel. She needed. And he was there for her, and he held her in his arms, and listened, and comforted with the most banal of words. Little steps now, into the brighter pained world of making decisions and standing by them. Look at Buffy more as someone to be helped, someone to be saved, than true love. Truer and better that way even if lingering traces of vanilla and grief cling to him.

Angel shook his body hard, as if he could free his skin of her smell that way. Never free, never unbound from the taste and feel of her, her blood sharing space and vein with that of hundreds, a favored few. This nasty heat crawling under his skin...he'd forgotten kissing mortals, he'd forgotten the horrible warmth and smell that lingered after the human had gone. Reminding him that he was dead. Wanted desperately to be gone, even though he had an hour 'till the sun rose.

He'd come close to hating Buffy during the night. For not asking, for being selfish, for not letting him show off his newfound completeness. "Look at me, I can be a demon, and a man, and have a soul, and not be Angelus, and not be a murdering fiend. I finally figured it out." Needed Buffy, impetus of his birth into the world of fighting the good fight, to be proud of him. Please, please, admire, see, acknowledge. Not the right place or time, so Angel let Buffy see only Angel, not the man become the demon who has accepted all three selves into himself.

Dislodged the twigs and dirt clinging to his black jeans as he walked. Halfway through the cemetery, he caught a ripe, familiar smell on the air. Rolling puffs of smoke dirtied the pure black of the sky as they fled over the top of a headstone. Two steps and a look down revealed a bleached blonde head attached to a long, slumped body.

"You done with the big strong Angel bit? Thought I was gonna heave, frankly. How many bloody times do you have to say ‘I’m sorry’? I think the girl got it after the eigh…."

Angel hauled the peroxided vampire up to eye level, slamming him against the tree.

"Spike." This could be fun. This could relieve stress. First he’d kick the crap out of his grandchilde for existing. Then, he’d inquire gently after why the vamp smelled too much like the Buffy. Or maybe he'd just kick the crap out of him some more. Excise the Angelus-like urge to fuck Buffy there in the dirt, watch the horror as she came, right next to where her mother's body lay rotting beneath the ground. To take, and kill, and arrange the beauty in crimson swirls of death.

"Yeah, that’d be me. Ain’t you the crackerjack detective?" The blonde wiggled free and patted out the creases in his leather duster. They stood, separated by three to four feet of ground and millions of miles of hate and history.

"How long have you been here?"

"Been here since the bloody funeral, hidin’ in the bushes under a blanket." Spike dragged a hand through his unruly tresses. The shaking of the black tipped fingers drew Angel’s eyes. Spike was shaking, terrified or angry or scared.

"Didn’t anyone ever teach you it’s not nice to eavesdrop?"

Spike didn’t grace that with a response, just a heavy-lidded, long look, before turning away. His upper body arched as if to walk away, and Angel moved into grab Spike’s arm. Spike snarled, latched onto Angel’s arm, and threw the big man toes over head hard into the firm earth.

With a shredded snarl, Spike launched himself at the prone vampire, sending the two rolling down the small hill behind them. As they reached the bottom, they both sprang up and began to circle each other. Noses curling, they sniffed the air, reading the pheromones and adrenaline pumping through the air. Slowly, in unconscious unison, their human features melted off to reveal the demon. Angel’s eyes glowed crimson gold in the darkness as he regarded his grandchilde. Spike had his hands down at his sides, fingers twitching and dancing. Face vamped, Angel blinked as old features flickered over new, longer, sable hair where bleached existed now, cocky arrogance superimposed on learned sneer.

With a roar, Angel charged, catching Spike in the chest. Their arms gripped each other in a mock embrace, grappling for supremacy. Didn’t want to remember days when he liked the cocky arrogance. When he liked fucking the witty words right out of his pretty little mouth until Will just whimpered. Being deep in that boy’s ass had been like a trip to nirvana while smoking acid. Pure mind-tripping pleasure.

Angel was starting to feel like going on a trip down memory lane.

"Boy, you never did know your place."

"My place?? My fucking place is fucking nowhere thanks to you and Dru and a stupid chip." High hiss on the chip, and Spike started to lose his grip on Angel. The older vampire took advantage of the moment to throw Spike to the ground and straddle him. Rolled his hips against him, and grinned when Spike's hips rose up to meet his.

"Spike, I'd forgotten how fucking easy you are."

With a flick of his hips and body weight, Spike flipped them over to straddle his grandsire.

"Easy? I'll show you bloody easy." Took both hands and ripped the silk shirt off Angel's chest, revealing the creamy expanse of cold skin. Bone white rising to two persimmon red nipples, hardened to tiny points. Ripped his own black tee off before gripping Angel's wrists and lowering himself in. Their teeth clashed and clacked, blood running down Angel's face as teeth nipped and fangs sliced at tender flesh. Lips rubbed against lips as Spike attacked Angel's mouth, as if he could eat the words he didn't like straight off the tongue and make them disappear.

For the briefest of moments, Angel felt safe. Consumed in the embrace of this violent creature he'd helped form, he wasn't obligated to be nice. Or friendly. Or anything but a fuck hungry vampire. Too soon, bored by the repetitive anger Spike threw out like an electric net, Angel grew restless under the oral assault. He reared up under Spike and threw the blonde off to one side. Quickly came down on knee next to Spike. Paused to look at the results. Of kissing. Of being chipped.

He was so damn beautiful when he hurt. Poor little Spike, forced to rely on the humans. Damn funny, Angel had to admit. At least he didn't have a soul. But which was worse? Electric or spiritual leash? Angel bent, and placed a false soft kiss on Spike's ruby red lips before raising his fist high and ramming it into Spike's stomach. Gloried in the gasp from those blood stained lips and remembered days of beating the 'God' out of William the not yet Bloody. Must be why Angel felt so much like worshipping as his fists made repeated contact with Spike's torso. Again and again, tenderizing the flesh, sweet purple bruises that would not last long, but would be a beauty mark for a moment.

"You. Fucking. Done. Yet. Peaches?" Each word punctuated by a grunt. Angel ceased beating on Spike and straddled the younger vampire again.

"Mmmmm….let me think." Angel rubbed his chin with a spare hand, holding Spike's wrists in the other. Took a sweaty finger, dragged it down Spike’s chest, and the blonde hissed as he watched it approach his groin. Angel yanked the front panel off of Spike’s ubiquitous black jeans, and in one swift move had Spike’s cock firmly in his grasp. Sighed happily at the dolphin firm, cold feel to the squirming member. No annoyingly warm mortal here. Dead, just like Angel. Blood, just like Darla, but without the accompanying ‘uh, sorry I killed you once’ angst. Angst, yes, but that subsided under an overwhelming need to fuck. Now.

"Mmm, no, not done." Unfastened his own slacks, freeing his turgid erection. Hissed at the feel of his hand on the foreskin. Kissed Spike again, delicately licking the thin lips free of blood and spittle. Angel read arousal and fierce denial in the baby blues blinking up at him. So hard, some times, to see Spike and not William. Blundering newborn begging for help from his elders. Arching, rising mounds of pale, pale flesh. Please, don't, dear God, stop, it…it hurts, don't you hear me? But Angelus heard, and loved, and fucked William until the new vampire learned to swallow down his poet's soul and fight arrogance with brattiness.

Angel sucked two of his fingers into his mouth, watched Spike watch his movements, ridiculous trepidation floating across those easy to read eyes. Ridiculous because this wasn't anything that hadn't happened before. A few years, a few hundred, but Spike knew the punishing, erotic hard taste of his grandsire's cock as well as the blonde knew the taste of Dru's cunt. Familiar, family. What was me was you is us.

Raised Spike's hips up to straddle his, and Angel knelt between the younger vampire's jean clad legs. Almost drooled at the sight of the veined, purple cock. Spike wasn't thick, but he was long, arching slightly at the tip. Angel took his saliva saturated fingers and plunged them into Spike's defenseless ass. Grinned at the howl of protest from Spike that quickly became mewls of frustrated pleasure. Withdrew the fingers, slapped Spike hard across the face when the vampire opened his mouth to speak, and raised himself and Spike's legs up. Snug up to the pale body before him, and Angel gripped Spike's hip as he slid in.

Tight, cold, sparkles of frigid pleasure danced up and down Angel's spine. He almost forgot to move as his cock swelled and pulsed inside the plush, firm grip of Spike's body. Began to pump, slow, so slow that Angel's cock almost fell out on each thrust. Angel's eyes slid shut as he concentrated on the feelings, dancing out into color behind his eyelids. Cascades of gold and orange, silver sparkles, like tiny snowflakes encased in precious metal. Taste of cock and ass blooming on his tongue as if he'd been doing things he hadn't done since he'd been human. But, to be honest, the temperature felt the best. Their body temperatures stayed at the same, ambient temperature, and Angel nearly cooed as his cock again and again disappeared between Spike's muscular globes.

Rasping ache as he moved faster, created an empty heat from the friction. Angel's low-hanging balls slapped, smackidysmack, against Spike's ass as the big vampire angled over and drove himself home. Listened to Spike's keening wail as the younger vampire's cock jumped and throbbed between their bodies, bouncing against the occasional stomach. Angel lowered his body and slowed his thrusts, careful to keep arched just enough to prevent Spike from rubbing his cock between their stomachs.

"What? You want to come?" Angel lazily thrust, rubbing a hand down Spike's thigh.

"Fuck. Yes." Teeth clenched, hair wild, mussed, rich black earth threading through the silken blonde.

"Spike, my boy, I don't think I'm feeling generous tonight." Angel raised up, and thrust deep, hard, bruising flesh. Savored the wonderful cool of Spike's ass for a brief second before letting his release happen, shuddering cold, useless seed into Spike's body. Watched as the bubbling white foam rushed out past his softening cock before dripping around the blonde's buttocks and into the ground. Angel withdrew, stood, his cock swaying drunkenly in the breeze.

"I don't have to say that it's been fun. But, while I've got you here," hand suddenly clutching at Spike's throat, fingers threatening to rip his grandechilde's throat out, "hurt her. You die. Get it?"

Angel released his hold and stood back, eyes surveying the damage done to his clothing. Good thing he'd brought a few extra things…in case. Always be prepared, or at least that's what Cordelia had chirped as she thrust the suitcase into the trunk. Felt…calmer now, Angelus again relegated to an stage in his evolution as a being of the light. As Angel prepared to walk away, already deciding to wear the soft gray chinos and the coal black cotton pullover, Spike spoke.

"Yeah, go ahead. Fuck and run. But ya know what?"

Angel looked back, scathing remark on his full lips. Saw Spike laid out, legs spread, fist closed on his cock, jerking hard on the denied thickness. Spike's eyes rolled back into his head as he came, shooting ropes of come over his chest, the ground beneath him. As Spike sucked his fingers free of come, he managed to plant one burr under Angel's recovered sanity.

"You're in L.A. And I'm. Right. By. Her. Side."

~end~

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