Familiar Role

Author: Tania

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Rating: R

Summary: Written for the Spike/Angel ficathon during season 5. The person this was written for wanted angst and sex over the deaths of Cordelia and Doyle, I eventually got there.

Thanks to sangpassionne, ladycat777, and fabricatedvoice for endless revisions, betaing, and story bouncing off of, etc.

“You were a no show.”

Spike leaned on the doorway of Angel’s office, staring at the quiet scene within; the expected stack of papers covering the desk, tattered remains of clothes from the day’s battle. The only thing out of place was Angel. Spike scanned the room briefly, expecting to see the newly returned Cordelia inspecting a corner or moving knick knacks around the shelves, but instead the only thing that caught his eye was his trembling sire. From his vantage point it was impossible to tell if it was anger or sadness that had Angel so clearly riled up, but part of him knew that either way Angel’s buttons would be easy to push, were anyone tempted to do so, of course.

Leaning on his desk as though it were a lifeline Angel traced a shaking hand over the phone’s receiver. “I, I just changed my mind,” he said, unmoving and focusing strictly on the taste of Cordelia’s kiss lingering in his mouth. Closing his eyes Angel thought he could feel her lips pressed against his even now, but she was gone. Completely gone. All that remained was the memory of a kiss fabricated by whatever power she had harnessed in her final attempt to remind him of his mission. Struggling to keep his mind from retracing the day’s events for the hundredth time that night he opened his eyes and tried to focus on the question he knew was brimming on Spike’s tongue.

“So, where’s the fair Cordelia?” Spike asked, entering the office uninvited once he was sure she wasn’t just hiding behind a couch, as women in Angel’s office were prone to do. When he received no answer he threw himself into the nearest chair and seemingly forgot his own question. “Didn’t miss much down the pub if you were wondering.” Spike paused, watching Angel’s face for some sign he was paying attention, continuing when he realized Angel wasn’t going to bite. “So everyone figured you two were just off shagging in the broom closet.”

Angel stared out the window for a moment before the words seemed to hit his ears. “What?” he asked, finally turning around to face Spike.

“You, Cordy, shagging? You know...shagging?”

“Yeah, I’m familiar with the term, Spike. I have had you following me around for a while now.”

“So not shagging then, but something,” Spike added, shooting Angel a knowing look. “You wouldn’t keep doing that if nothing had happened.”

“Doing what?” Angel said, looking down to see if he was fidgeting.

“Licking your lips, mate.”

Angel’s hand darted to his mouth, index finger tracing over the curve of his lower lip. The sensation sent a chill up his body and caused his eyes to glaze over and he leaned against the desk, staring at the offending phone once again. The pain was so fresh that Angel barely understood what had happened himself; he had no words to explain it to anyone, let alone Spike. The nurse’s words rang fresh in his ears no matter how hard he tried to block them out; Miss Chase just passed away, terribly sorry for your loss.

Passed away yes, but not *just*. She was gone long before tonight; Angel simply hadn’t wanted to accept it. Now he had no choice.

“She’s not here,” he whispered, unwilling to repeat the nurse’s words aloud. “She left.”

“Cordelia?” Spike asked, standing up and taking a step towards Angel. “Was this before or after the shagging?”

“There was no shagging,” Angel groaned, stifling the quiver that was forming on his lips once more.

“Shame that. If I’d thought you were gonna turn her out so soon I woulda offered her a tumble myself.” Spike let his eyes unfocus a bit, picturing a naked Cordelia shaking a set of pompoms. Lost for a moment in his fantasy, Spike didn’t register Angel lunging at him until the vampire was nearly on him. With a quick side-step Spike managed to narrowly avoid the full weight of Angel’s punch and send him sprawling to the floor with a swift shove.

“Can’t you ever just keep you mouth shut?” Angel asked from the floor, slowly pulling himself up on the nearest chair and brushing his hands over his clothes. Once he was sufficiently unwrinkled he took a menacing step towards Spike. “Why are you here?”

“What? You didn’t show at the bar, came back to see why? Now I’m wondering if Angel is even home in there. Looks like my sire, walks like my sire,” Spike said, hands in the air as he backed off. “Of course *my* sire didn’t spend nearly so much time moaning about as you do.” Spike put on his best unperturbed face as the backs of his legs hit the desk, blocking any path of escape.

“Well I can assure you that no one *I* ever sired would be stupid enough to come into my office and start presuming to know anything about my life.” Angel raised his hand, sliding it across the desk sending a shower of papers to the floor with an unsatisfying flourish and kicking the phone as he stormed past Spike and out of the office into the empty lobby.

“Hey,” Spike called after Angel, chasing him into the lobby. “Hey, listen,” Spike reached a hand out to grab Angel, stopping him mid-step, “Doesn’t matter how long she stayed. At least she woke up or whatever. You can’t beat yourself up over it, I mean so she didn’t stick around. Plenty here to keep you occupied, right? Maybe it’s not the happily ever after you planned on, but you’re here, yeah? Anyway, isn’t she the reason you had to off your own son? Was me I think I’d be glad she was gone, especially if she wouldn’t even stick around long enough for a goodbye tumble.”

Spike wasn’t expecting the sucker punch any more than the claws at his neck, but it was the shot to the temple that really stunned him into submission. Clutching his stomach he fell back against the lobby stairs, the thin carpet hardly enough cushioning to keep the edges from jabbing into his ribcage as Angel toppled onto him. He barely got a hand up before Angel’s fist connected with his side once again. Pain jolted through Spike’s body but it only lasted a second. He tried to block the next jab but seeing the look on Angel’s face he knew it wasn’t worth the effort. Angel wasn’t home just then and a touch of the familiar struck Spike just as rapidly as Angel’s fist. A century, hell a decade, earlier and he would have considered this first rate foreplay. He let Angel play his game, took the punches, because whether Angel wanted to admit it or not, he didn’t need to mourn some cheerleader’s absence, he needed to rage.

Angel could smell the apathy in Spike’s blood as each fist landed, and somehow it just fueled him further. He felt so distant from all the others, even Wesley going with him to the hospital that morning had done nothing to connect them, not really. He was alone in this, even more alone now that Angel Investigations was truly dead. Cordelia had been his last link to the path he and Doyle had started on all those years ago. That path was now littered with the bodies of his friends, and even the parts clear of death were so covered in the webs of deceit that he couldn’t see it clearly.

The only thing he saw now was the way back. Behind him was clear, there was Spike and the vague recollection of simpler times. Always in his past, regretfully in his present and Angel knew that Spike would be in his future unless it was he himself who finally put him down. And of course that wasn’t happening anytime soon. The punching yes, but not staking. There were some points even he couldn’t reach, and despite his better judgment killing Spike had always been one of them. Well not since the first time anyway.

“Fuck!” Angel shouted, throwing a final punch to Spike’s chest before rolling off him and lying on the stairs, visions dancing in his head of a much softer William dying in his arms in a London alley.

“What? I thought we were just starting to have fun.” Spike protested as he leaned over and traced a bruised hand over Angel’s bicep and licked a trace of blood from his own lips. The taste set Spike’s tongue on fire, body aching from the pain of Angel’s assault, but deep within he craved more. Even if it was in anger, it was another body touching his, and he hadn’t received enough of that simple pleasure since returning to Angel’s fold.

When Spike reached out a second time Angel shrugged him off and tried to stand, but Spike darted out a hand and pulled him back onto the stairs, forcing him into a crushing kiss. Spike’s touch burned his skin, tender fingers rubbing over muscles still clenching with the urge to fight. The need to flail and hit still coursed through each nerve and Angel struggled to maintain his composure.

“Stop it,” Angel moaned, shaking his arm from Spike’s grasp and pushing him away. “Just go home.”

“Don’t think that’s such a good idea, mate.”

“I’m fine.”

“Yeah, well, you’ll pardon my bleeding body but I don’t think so.” Spike leaned back on his elbows and took in a deep breath. “Tell me what happened.”

“No.”

“Now you listen here, I’m not gonna let you bang me up for five minutes without at least knowing that I deserve it.”

“Since when?” Angel asked, fighting off Spike’s roving hands once again.

“Since it doesn’t work that way now.” Spike rested his head against the stairs and sighed in defeat. “Let somebody else play the part of your punching bag I’m done for tonight.”

“Fine.” Angel looked over Spike’s prone body. Eyes closed to the bright lights that surrounded the lobby, Spike seemed so peaceful in his own skin. Even after letting Angel hammer into his ribs for several minutes he looked as though he were just spending an afternoon at the beach. Slow even breaths causing his chest to rise and fall from habit, lips parted just enough to show glimmers of a pink tongue. Spike carried none of the weight that held Angel down, and for a brief moment Angel wanted to know what that was like.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Spike asked, eyes still close but keenly aware that he was being ogled.

“Sorry, I’m just, forget it,” Angel said. He did want to forget the thoughts running through his mind, all of them in fact. Just then he wished he could forget a century of thoughts and bad choices, but as he looked over Spike’s body and the way he ran his tongue over his still bleeding lips, Angel wondered if he really did want to lose everything he had now. Surely there was something keeping him from sending Spike away for good. Part of him had to want Spike here and the longer he remained silent the more Angel realized exactly what part of him it was that wanted Spike.

As Spike started to sit up Angel crushed him back against the hard wood of the stairs and took a moment to look into startled blue eyes. When he finally kissed Spike for the second time that night it held none of the shaking resistance that had marred their first attempt. Angel was almost gentle in a way that Spike felt was intimately more painful than the abuse to his ribs had been. A gentle Angel was never something that had made Spike comfortable, yet as he sat here in the middle of a lobby usually thronging with people, knowing that Angel was the only one watching him as his desire rose, Spike couldn’t help but respond.

Wrapping his arms around Angel’s waist, Spike felt some unknown emotion quavering just beneath the surface of Angel’s suddenly calm demeanor. He still couldn’t decipher what was going on behind Angel’s eyes, clouded over with lust their near black centers boring into him, Spike wanted to ask if Angel was even thinking of him as they kissed, but decided in the end that it would be better to just let his sire lead the way. Even as Angel ran lips and tongue over Spike’s now exposed chest, tracing over bruises he had caused, Spike had no idea what had transpired in Angel’s office after the gang had left for the night. Part of him wanted to know why his sire was being gentle where he never had before, but a larger part just wanted to stop questioning the moment and revel in it.

Angel watched through half-lidded eyes as Spike kissed his way down his body, that insipid grin spreading from ear to ear as he pulled Angel’s cock from his pants and laved a wet trail over the hardened flesh. The gentle suction of Spike’s first movement forced Angel to grab onto the railing and squeeze back the urge to explode then and there.

Wordlessly turning Spike over, folding his body over the rise of the stairs, Angel rushed to expose more flesh, trailing fingers and tongue over every crease and crevice until Spike was arching against him and begging to be entered. Quick to oblige, Angel let out a gasping breath over Spike’s neck as he was engulfed in a body that seemed made for his cock alone. Spike rocked against Angel’s body as he was filled to the point of perfection, unable to take another inch were it offered he rasped out words that fell short of his true ecstasy.

Biting back an early release Angel let himself sink into the moment even as he sank deeper and deeper into Spike’s clenching body. Trying desperately to hide from the day in the most unlikely of exposed locations. Here in the lobby, pressing Spike’s body into the stairs with crushing force, panting out a rhythm known only to them, Angel knew that once they were finished Spike would always find a way to make him forget that life was made up of anything more than thrust and pull. In Spike’s world there were few things that couldn’t be solved by a good fuck, and as Angel filled Spike with his orgasm he was grateful that sometimes he was right.

******

“Careful, I’m sore.”

“Sorry,” Angel said quietly, pulling his weight from Spike’s body and sitting up on the stairs, head resting in his hands, Spike’s words bringing him back to the reality of where they were.

‘So,” Spike said as he pulled his trousers back up from his ankles and adjusted himself until he was satisfied, “You gonna tell me what brought that on?”

“You kissed me first remember?”

Spike stared at Angel’s still shaking body, “I mean after that.”

“I think you sucking my cock was what got really me going,” Angel said, although there was no hint of humor in his voice.

“Trying to be serious here,” Spike turned to face Angel, who was now almost cowering against the thin metal railing, careful not to look Spike in the eyes. “I’m not complaining, just that I’ve been here a while now and this is the first time you’ve wanted to, um…relive the good old days.”

“I just felt like it.” Angel said as he tucked his shirt back into his trousers.

“Right, your latest one true love wakes up from a coma and the first thing you do is think how much you missed buggering my ass? Not buying it hero.”

“It wasn’t the first thing.”

“Guessing it wasn’t even the last thing, that’s why I’m not getting it. I tasted her on you; she didn’t walk out of here without leaving a memento.” When Angel remained silent Spike stood up and started to descend the stairs. “Suit yourself, I’m not gonna sit here and play pry-the-story with you. I’ll be in your office ransacking your desk.”

“She’s dead, Spike.”

The words were barely above a whisper and Spike almost didn’t hear them under the thump of his boots on the stairs, but when it did register he couldn’t help but turn around. Under Angel’s patented stoic look there were tears brimming, and an unmistakable quiver to his lips. There were priceless few times Spike had seen his sire in this state, and every time he did Spike hoped it would be the last. Yet suddenly those tears held more answers than any of the words that had passed between them since the first kiss had sent Spike’s mind swimming nearly an hour earlier.

Cordelia was dead, and Spike was now playing the part of oldest friend, or not friend. Maybe he was a friend with benefits. An uncomfortable yet not unfamiliar role. For now, he guessed, it suited him fine.

~Finis~

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