..............................FIVE SCENES THAT MIGHT HAVE HAPPENED..........Maybe.
.....................................Challenge entry for DarkerSpike and Fang fetish awards



.................................... Five ways, Five people, some of them lovers, some not.
..........................................................let me know if you like it.

..............................................................ADULT CONTENT slash non con

................................................................................


Disclaimer:
Nothing belongs to me. Joss is the Boss. Mutant Enemy et al own it all.
I just creep in at night and play with the pretty toys until morning then
put them away only slightly soiled. Please don’t sue me for my wicked wicked imagination


FIVE



one

Spike had only just managed to get to sleep. The constant pain dulled by the right amount of Jack. But not too much, never too much, because too much Jack always let the memories slide out and into his dreams.

One minute he was floating on a warm sea of endorphins and alcohol the next something god dam strong and fierce had him by the throat up against the wall.
Feet kicking hands clawing at.. Nothing?
He opened his eyes and there she was.

He had never seen her himself, wasn’t around when she made her appearance.
Fervently wished he hadn’t been around this time either.

“Spike I have a little task for you.”

The pressure on his throat eased and he found his voice.

“Yeah?”

“You know you have no choice right. Do this or I kill you in an inventive and eternally painful way, maybe seal you into a perpetual loop of stake and dust, or holy water and bubble or, well you get the picture don’t you?”
There was an a pause and an enquiring tilt to her head
“Yeah, er Red?”

She smiled with her mouth, but there was nothing in her black eyes.

“You are a bit behind the times Spikey, have to think up a new name for me I guess.”
She flicked at her black hair. Tiny sparks crackled from her fingers.

The pressure eased completely but Spike didn’t move.
“Yeah have you gone over to the dark side again pet?”

“It’s not quite that simple, and there really isn’t time. I need your blood. I could just take it, but that might be a painful process for you, painful and possibly fatal. So I’m giving you the choice.”

Spike didn’t say anything for a moment contemplating the witch removing his blood; she must have taken this as his consent because suddenly he felt a nauseous sensation and his vision blurred.

An agonising jolt and he was back or rather he wasn’t.
It was a damp, dark, cavernous place and the stench of fear and blood and dark magicks doubled him over retching.

A firm hand on his shoulder pulled him upright.

“Here drink this.”
The cup was thrust to his mouth and he swallowed almost on a reflex.
Stupid of him to think she had been offering him something to ease his discomfort!
The taste of whatever it was she had given him was so noxious he was choking on it almost as he swallowed.
She kept the cup to his mouth and threatened

“No Spikey drink it all down or you’ll be sorry. There’s no way of knowing what half a potion like this will do. Another time and I might be interested in studying how the spell is subverted, it would be quite fascinating I suppose.”

Spike didn’t need to look up to see the expression of intense, dispassionate interest. She had always had that quality, even before any darkness had touched her, it was the same enquiring interest that allowed science to progress, to ask what if I did that? or this? And it was a good thing, as long as you weren’t the specimen in the lab that is.

The effects of the potion were beginning to thrum inside him.
He began to claw at his clothes to be rid of them as the heat inside him intensified.
Once he was nude he couldn’t stop from squirming and touching wanting to rub himself against well anything.
Inside his head he was screaming, murderous angry and afraid and plain mortified at what he was doing. But the stupid body, the bloody meat puppet was doing its own thing, whatever the bitch had put in the potion was making him hard and horny and desperate.

“Listen to me Spike, I know you’re inside there probably imagining how you’re going to kill me when this is over.”

She gave him a little shake, he hadn’t even realised her hand was still on him, but the body reacted to the touch squirming and trying to rub his cheek against the hand on his shoulder. She shook him again a little harder.

“Don’t try those tricks on me mister, they won’t work. Now you have a job to do so let’s get to it. You have to turn someone, make a childe. I know from things Buffy said that you hated and regretted the ones you made under the influence of the First.
And I remember from the things that Giles said that you had never made a childe before that.

“So I do know. I do understand that you are going to hate this. But it has to be done and there’s no help for it, but it will be OK, for you Spike, the potion will see to that.
It has taken your will, it has given you the desire and the strength to make a childe and when you’re through it will ease your mind of the burden.”

Inside Spike was screaming that he didn’t want this but she wasn’t interested in his opinion, she already knew it.

“You need the blood and you need the sex, and the pain, I understand how vampire Childer are made. And the potion will see to it that your Childe is strong and brave and a real credit to your line, Spike; and it will also see to it that he doesn’t loose his soul. And you can be sure that I’ll take good care of him for you, don’t worry about that. He’s waiting for you now.”

She gave him a push and the scent of blood and tears drew him on.
In the corner, in the dark, but not too dark for a vampire’s eyes,

The body was lean again, not the powerful muscled bulk it had been in later years, and two dark eyes glittered with anger and hatred. But this time Spike knew he was not the target for those feelings, this one time he was absolved of the sin, and that look of black anger was directed at the dark witch.

The eyes were alive but the rest of the body was un-naturally still and it had been thoughtfully arranged with spread legs and the head turned to expose the neck.

Spike wished he could speak, wished he could say that this wasn’t his choice, that he was fighting his body as hard as he could, that he would take no pleasure in this act.
The only rebellion she allowed him was not to change completely. His fangs descended but somehow he was able to stop there, so that when he looked into the anguished brown eyes, the pain and the sorrow and the regret he was feeling shone through, and the tears that slid down his cheeks were clear as crystal, human tears, not the bloody tears a vampire cries.

All the while Spike was taking the human and making him into a Childe She droned on. Explaining why She had to do this, why He had to do this, how She couldn’t stop the prophecy, that Xander had to die to save the world, but that She had thought of this way to trick it, a way for Xander to die but not permanently.

So Spike shared his fluids with Xander, gave him the ‘dark gift’ as someone like bloody Andrew might say. But in his head it was just another rape scene.

But there was a subtle difference, tears were not normally part of a Sire’s gift but it seemed on this occasion they were appropriate.

And finally when the violence of taking had ended and Spike was giving his blood feeding the dying man to quicken the demon, another small rebellion was overlooked, as he gently stroked the damp cheek and soothed the parched throat that was gulping down his blood.

When he died it was in mid swallow.
Spike looked down almost fondly as the mouth gaped open and some of the blood spilled down his chin. Boy always was a messy eater.

He gently pushed the mouth closed, wondering if when he awoke Xander would taste the regret and sorrow that filled his Sire, would he understand then, with this little sip of blood, all that Spike now was.
Even as these thoughts passed through his mind he could see the spark of green and yellow in the blank depths of the dead brown eyes. The potion must have speeded up the quickening.

A puzzling feeling, heavy and deadening, washed through him and Spike fought to keep his eyes open, staring into the awakening depths of his Childe, but it was as if through a long rushing tunnel, he gazed into an awareness and was that love?


The pounding on his door woke him.
Spike just stared round as the door finally opened.
Wesley looked down at him with his usual mixture of exasperation and unwilling fondness.
“Spike for goodness sake put some clothes on. You can hardly imagine I want to gaze at your exposed genitals. And I doubt you’ll want Illirya to see you like this.”
A pair of jeans dropped onto him covering the area of offence.

“What kind of an existence is this? It’s just beyond me.” Wesley sighed. “You seem to be a rational being, even intelligent on occasion, but I sometimes I wonder. Do you simply shed your clothes and pass out?”

“Nah sometimes I don’t bother to undress at all, got to have some excitement in life. As for the rest, it’s a bit much to expect a meaningful discussion on existentialism at this hour.”

Spike scratched idly at his neck, the injury bothered him a little, it had taken a week and still it wasn’t healed, he kept meaning to ask Wesley to look, didn’t even know what caused it, but it must have slipped his mind again.
Spike wondered if he had always felt this empty, it has seemed particularly bad this week. Like a part of him was missing.
Almost as bad as when they’d lost Angel and Charlie.

He dragged himself up and pulled on his jeans, wouldn’t do for blue to get that notion again, about him being her pet. She’d nearly pulled his cock off, that one time she’d got hold of him, before he managed to stop her.

Spike sighed; ~guess it’s just the post apocalypse blues~. He thought he’d be over it by now but he guessed he would always miss his Sire, childer were like that.



~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~



two


She put the folded flag on the mantle.
The funeral had been a sham.
It was hard to mourn when you knew the coffin contained a sandbag not your husband’s body.
When you didn’t know the date the time the exact moment when he had finally died, not really.
His brain, sure, she knew that had died on the operating table, but the body had kept right on going

Apparently the codicil written into his will had never been changed.
Left his body to medical research, the lawyer said, nothing to be done.
He was to be kept on life support until they were ready for him.
So it took another week of agonising waiting before the day arrived.

Blip…. the machine went off and the body stilled, doctors agreed and pronounced him dead.
She had shed her first tears as a widow when…….
Blip the machine was on again, less than three minutes they said, smiling, pleased with themselves, and they took him away hooked up to the machines and ~breathing~ again.

She’d offered to hold the funeral up, wait until whatever they were going to use his body for was done, but no, apparently that wasn’t how it worked.
She’d asked about organ donation when it was over, but again that was not allowed either.

And so she had to picture him in pieces, in jars, like ingredients in a larder, waiting for a mad scientist to cook up his parts to further their research.



In fact he was quite happy where he was, and his handlers were pleased with his progress. Vampire healing was remarkable and most of his injuries had healed, even his brain was showing many signs of repair.



The batch of blood they were using had proven to be the most potent.
When they had finally discovered how to replicate the conversion process, and had learend the quantities of blood needed to produce a result. The boss regularly cursed the inefficiency that had lost them that particular test subject all those years ago.
Although its importance had not been realised at the time.

It wasn’t until the latest experiments had started that they began to understand there must be subtle differences between the types of this particular breed of sub terrestrial.
Some samples were incapable of reanimating even under ideal conditions, other's poduced reasonable results when large qunatities were used. But this one batch, collected all those years ago in Sunnydale, was the motherlode. Just a tiny amount of blood was enough to produce excellent results even in unpromisinging subjects, the severly damaged or too long dead.


But the reason for this difference was unclear, nothing different had been found in the blood or tissue samples or from simple observations.
It was something beyond what their instruments could measure, and it had only became apparent when they had begun to replicate the breeding process.

It had taken about three days for him to open his eyes and become aware, and by the day of his funeral he was up and moving like a big clumsy toddler, and he had such a sweet temperament for a HST, that smile was still puppy like and eager.

A few of them had attended the funeral, it would have looked strange if his army buddies hadn’t shown up, plus the boss had said the wife needed to be watched, make sure she didn’t mouth off in a public where it couldn’t be ignored so easily.

She had sat hollow cheeked and silent through the whole thing, like a good army wife should. But her eyes burned when they looked at you,
That’s how the ones who knew her had felt anyway.
The boss didn’t seem to notice, but then he was a cold bastard at the best of times.

There had been a couple of familiar faces from Sunnydale at the funeral too.
Surprised a few of them when they reported back later. The boy, and the petite red-head, all grown up now and from the looks of them all too familiar with funerals, but then they had been some of the miraculous final survivors of the Sunnydale collapse.
The boss hadn’t been interested though, they hadn’t been players in Sunnydale, not like the Slayer or the Watcher.

After the funeral it had been unsettling to return to the compound and find him up and moving, even talking a little, and remembering odd stuff. Downright spooky when he mentioned the boy, Xander he called him.

Later he’d started to talk about someone called Syre. Constantly asking for him, apparently he was a male. Wanting to know when Syre was going to come and get him, quite agitated he became, and at other time almost tearful. Yet he could not explain whom this Syre person was, or why he believed he would come. Questioning him on the subject appeared to bring on even worse behaviour.
They tried research, it wasn’t a name any of them had heard before; they spent a long time trying to find a reference to who it might be, but neither his own meticulous journals, nor the older records salvaged from the original Initiative’s computers made any mention of such a person.

The anxiety over this imagined friend and saviour was attributed to persistent brain damage, they studied him more closely see if there was other aberrant behaviour.
Secretly those that had known him from before hoped this aberration might be enough to end the experiment.

It was difficult looking into that face every day, running the tests, ticking the boxes in the charts labelled jokingly “Hostile 17 Junior”
when they still thought of him as Riley.



~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~




three


Xander was messing about in the garden with the rest of them.
Insisted it was traditional to barbecue on the 4th of July.

It did no good for Spike to point out that in this household, a mixed race household,
It was bloody irritating to have to celebrate an event that as an Englishman and a Victorian to boot he considered to be an act of rebellion if not treason, and what’s more if he wanted to eat charred food all Xander had to do was get Buffy to invite them over for dinner again.

So Spike had sat resolutely inside, he condescended to drink the beer, because it was a decent brand for once, not the normal swill Harris brought.
He had agreed to eat one burger as well, provided it remained only lightly charred, after all he was more flammable than the rest of them. It would be just his luck to take a bite of incinerated meat only to find it was still alight on the inside. Not a way he ever wanted to contemplate going. Again. He’d already been burned to ash from the inside out once and that would have to be enough for everyone.

He didn’t hear the actual event, but the aftermath had been loud enough to levitate him off the couch and begin running before he’d even registered it’s meaning.

Dawn Screaming
“No! Xander don’t pull it out.”

When he reached the garden their eyes met briefly before Xander sank down in an ungainly heap, his strings cut.

He managed to get to him and catch his shoulders before he collapsed back to the ground, the blood was fountaining out of him.
There was no time.

Spike tore open his wrist and thrust it into Xander’s mouth.

“Drink up pet, it’ll be OK. I’ve got you luv”

He had no time for anything more, a few swallows and he was gone, but it had been enough, just.

Spike looked up at the ashen faces, Dawn and Buffy and Andrew and Giles.

“What the bloody hell happened?”

Giles swallowed and spoke.

“He tripped and fell on the barbecue fork.”




~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~


four



Spike came home after a long, long day of searching for his Sire.

Once they had discovered the soul was missing they’d tried to trap him, tried to restore it, but it was too late.
Something that the bloody Blackthorn circle had done, when he signed away the prophecy, a trick of course, but bloody Angel had fallen for it and poof his soul was gone, forever.

Once Spike had sussed there was no helping him, he had got the others away as quick as he could.
Charlie had seen at once where the danger lay and Lorne too, and they were both long gone.
Even the ghastly Eve and her smarmy beau Lindsey he’d saved.
And, God forgive him, stupid Harmony, even her he’d felt responsible for and saved; arranged for her to go with Lorne as his assistant.

He’d called Andrew and warned him, made it clear, that all of them were in danger from the bastard now, even those Angel had never met, never laid eyes on.
Because Spike knew what they didn’t, that he had laid his protection on them all, to one degree or another, and once Angelus discovered that little fact he wouldn’t rest until all of them were gone, destroyed completely or spoiled forever.

Never was allowed his own, not as William not as Spike.
Angelus had been his creator and his God and Angelus was a very, very jealous God.


But he had just been so dam tired and his nose had been filled with the stench of the day old kill he had found. Angelus was honing his skills, sharpening his claws. Leaving then all for Spike to find. Sometimes he missed him by moments, caught the final few breaths of life just as his Sire wanted him to, sometimes, like tonight they were long dead and stinking of decay already.

So he wasn’t paying that much attention as he closed the door to his flat.

The dark and silence was incomplete and all at once he noticed what was missing and what was there.
A slither of ice ran down his spine and unbearable tension filled his body. The Pavlov response to Sire. Angelus.

“Ah William I was wonderin’ when you’d grace us. Always was a slow one weren’t you Boy?”

Slowly Spike turned and peered into the dark room.

There he was, the black-hearted bastard, smirking in the corner mostly hidden by the tall body that he held against him.

“Couldn’t start the party without you me boy.”

Spike tried desperately to tell if Blue was around, but in her God form she was strangely sterile almost no scent at all and he couldn’t detect a thing.
Didn’t want to look away from Sire. Didn’t dare if he was truthful.

He waited, eyes submissively gazing at the floor, noticing Wesley’s scuffed desert boots but little else.

His mind was in turmoil. He was fairly sure he couldn’t beat Angelus, not here, not now. The bastard had been gorging on fresh human blood and would be hyped from the torture session, as good as invincible. And what did Spike have to counter that? A diet of pigs swill and bugger all else. Sure he had beaten Angel, would have probably staked himself out for the next sunrise if he couldn’t beat that ponce. But Angelus was a different animal all together.

“Ah Willy are you remembering how it was in the day? You, me, the soon to be corpse.” He caressed Wesley’s cheek as he said this, but it was wasted on Spike whose eyes were still firmly fixed on the carpet.

“I think you remember your place don’t you boy?”
Angelus laughed and Spike stepped forward slowly, shedding his coat as he took his place, on his knees.

“You can loose the shirt too, boy.”

He stripped it off.

“You’re a slender fellow aren’t you? Have they not been feeding you right my boy? Do these mean bastards keep you on short rations? Was the soul I suppose, made you eat that swill did he? Don’t you worry boy I’ll see you right, you’ll thrive on my left-overs runt, just like you always did.”

Spike shivered. Inside his head a war was happening. The soul was screaming at him to kill the bastard. to put a stop to his madness. But the demon was cowering, it knew its master, and it wanted nothing more that to roll over and show its belly. And somewhere in the middle, that strange amalgamation of all the extremes, the creature that was Spike, bided his time.

“I’m sure you remember how this goes William, best get on with it before Wesley here looses all interest.”

Quickly he reached up to undo the button and zip.
He saw Wesley’s stomach tense as he began to open the fly and slide the trousers down. He dared not look up, to try and reassure the man, not allowed that, downright dangerous for the human, if there was any sign that he cared, at all, for him.
He allowed his thumbs to gently caress the skin inside the fly as it was exposed, hoping this slight touch, all he could manage unseen, might give a little comfort.

“What do you think Wes? My boy makes a fine whore doesn’t he? Best you’ve ever had I’ll wager.”
His laugh was nasty and clearly it was not a compliment he was paying.
“Nothing to say yet Watcher? Don’t you worry Willy boy will soon have you singing like a little bird. Get on with it then. Remember I like them willing, and ready for me cock.”

So Spike began.
Wesley’s shocked little moan, as he was engulfed in the cool moist mouth and throat, trembled right through Spike.
He knew it was going to be bad, Angelus would enjoy hurting this one, and then once he had sated some of his hunger he would really go to town on Spike.
In a way it made things easier for Spike, knowing there was little likelihood of survival. Allowed him to concentrate on keeping the human alive as long as he could, just in case.
Angelus hadn’t mentioned the soul, yet. But he must be able to smell it on him and that alone would be reason for him to die.


Slyly while he was sucking, making an attractive show for his Sire, his fingers slipped between the legs and began to massage behind the ballsac. Tapping and sliding against the tight ring of muscles to relax them. He was surprised how easily his finger slid inside. Wesley was already wet and slippery with lube!
He desperately wanted to look up, to see the expression on Wesley’s face, to try and understand what this meant.
The muscles tightened around his finger once, squeezing sharply, then relaxed.

“He is good.” That coolly infuriating voice, Wesley could hide every emotion behind that façade of indifference. “But I have, in fact, had better.”

“Oh now he speaks! Do you hear that Willy boy he’s had better than you? Ah how times they do change. Back in the day you were the best little cocksucker, the men they sighed in your mouth and you could lick the girls until they creamed. But I guess you’re just second rate now, a second rate cocksucking whore.”

Spike continued to suck and tongue at Wesley’s cock he could feel the tremors running through the body and he knew the man would come soon. He felt a slight tickle on his cheek and then it slipped down to caress his throat as it worked the cock inside. Wesley’s fingers reassuring him with a gentle unseen touch.

“He may only be second rate but if I was you Wes I’d make the most of the opportunity and come now, you never know you might not have the chance again.”
The threat wasn’t an idle one, and it would have weakened most men’s erections no matter how close to coming they were, but Wesley’s shaft hardened and lengthened even more at these words and Spike tasted the first spurt of cum on his tongue before the cock was thrust down his throat with inhuman force.

Angelus growled as he thrust in that first time. Driving his thick cock up hard and fast, punching through the tight ring of muscle into the quivering hole, fucking them, usually tearing them, just at the moment of orgasm; and driving them tight and deep down Spike’s throat at the same time, that was a pleasure Angelus never tired of.

Spike risked a quick glance up at Wes.
His dark blue eyes were intent; staring straight at Spike his expression was soft and fond and delighted. His fingers lightly caressed Spike’s cheek again before he closed his eyes and sighed out the last of his orgasm. And yet that peaceful glorious face, the trembling final splash of cum did not equate with the smell of blood that quite clearly signified that Angelus had torn him up inside.
Angelus was quiet for a time, intent on his pleasure.
As he neared his own climax he spoke again.
“Wesley I had no idea what a fantastic fuck you would be so tight and wet inside, almost like a girl.”
Angelus was really making an effort now, fucking at an inhuman speed, and Spike was supporting most of the human’s weight now hands at his hips to keep him upright. He could see Wes was pale and sweat was beading on his brow and his eyes were now screwed tightly shut as he tried to resist the pain he must be feeling. The smell of blood was intense now and Spike feared the man would die soon from shock and blood loss. After all he had seen this death a thousand times before, and knew all its stages all its signs. It was just that much harder to witness when it was someone he cared for.

Finally Angelus made his usual groaning and moaning and came it a long sensuous shudder, churning his hips as his cum shot high inside the failing human.


Spike was dismayed at the rush of blood that came when Angelus pulled out. Wesley was hardly standing at all now wavering on his feet.

“Think this one’s about done now Willy.”

Spike let Wesley fall, carefully. Supporting him more than it seemed as he sank to the floor and slumped back. There was still some tension in his body and blood was still pumping weakly from between his legs he wasn’t as bad as Angelus thought but he was going to die soon from the loss of blood.

A ferocious blow to the back of Spike’s head sent him sprawling across the human and left him dizzy and confused. He reached back to touch his skull anticipating that nasty spongy feeling of crushed bone, but Sire grabbed his wrist and ground the bones together until they broke. The pain was so awful he couldn’t help the tiny sob that it forced out of him.

“See you’ve not forgotten my tender ways have you?”
Spike shook his head, he knew some kind of answer was required of him, but shaking the head had been a bad idea, and he was nearly sick with the nausea and pain.
What the hell had he been hit with? He could feel it, the injury, making him slow. Making him stupid. And remembered being like this in the past, head wounds were funny things. And he recalled Angelus had made quite a study of them long ago.

“Too much thinking not enough action boy. God what ijit ever thought you would make a good vampire? Oh yes the Looney tune. I can smell that stinking soul on you boy; you know that right? If I could I’d rip it out of you, but I can’t can I? It’s stuck fast.”

Another blow, to the side of his head this time. Must be using some kind of metal bar. Spike couldn’t see out of his left eye now and the slow sick feeling filled his head.
He knew there was something he had to do, something he had to remember but it was all a grey hazy blur.

A further blow across his mouth and he knew that he had lost teeth and fangs too; he spat the blood out of his mouth feebly.

Then there was a tearing sound and his jeans were gone.
Finally, something familiar.
He knew what to do.
This was learned, and remembered deep inside his brain, far from the damaged areas.
William and Angelus, Sire.
He bent forward and raised his hips. Spread his legs as wide as he could and presented himself to his Sire.

“Ah boy I knew you’d find it if only I gave you the right encouragement.”

The unbearable tearing grind as Sire pushed inside was so familiar. But each time it hurt just as much, was just as shocking as, that first time.
Tears sprung unwilling to his eyes and another tiny sob escaped his lips.
But that was OK, that was allowed, when he was here beneath Sire, where he belonged.

Underneath him the warm human body shifted a little and he glanced curiously into the glittering dark blue eyes. They seemed to see inside him, their gaze so sure and full of something unexpected. Did he know this human?
He thought he might, but his memories were gone and it was difficult to think past the numb fuzzy pain in his head, every thing was difficult when Sire had beaten you and was fucking you with his long hard cock.
He moaned. He knew something was wrong, something was wrong with him, but the sick feeling in his head stopped him from remembering what it was.

“Maybe I won’t destroy you boy. Maybe I’ll find a way to keep you like this.
I like it when you’re obedient and quiet. There’s things they can do now, marvellous scientific things that I could try on you. To keep you quiet and make you mind me.”

He gave a particularly brutal thrust and Spike moaned at the pain.

“That’s right boy you should moan, and you should thank me for taking you back you filthy beast. You dirty little bitch with your Foul… Stinking…..Soul”
Each word was punctuated by a painful stab deep inside him.

There was a further blow to his head and now tears were falling constantly and each thrust forced a tiny whimper of distress out of him.

“Answer me boy!”

Spike opened his mouth but he was confused and nothing would come out. He couldn’t fathom the words or make sense of how to say them. He shook his head again and nearly collapsed from the blinding pain, he hadn’t noticed but blood was beginning to drip from his nose in a sluggish red stream.

Beneath him the human stirred again, slowly raised his arms and pulled Spike down against his chest pulling his head to the crook of his neck and sheltering it with his arms. The next blow that should have fallen on his head instead fell across the humans raised arms.
Angelus growled angrily and Spike felt him shift a little as if he would rain the next blow down on the human’s upturned face.
And so he moved without thinking to protect the man with his arms so that they were each wrapped around the other.
He did not know why he did this, except that he was sure this human was the only person to ever offer protection to him from his Sire, and it seemed such an unlikely thing, to find protection in a human’s arms that he could not bear to see it end.

Angelus’ roar of fury didn’t drown out the words the human whispered in his ear.
“It’s OK Spike, she’s here. She will save you.” And the human’s fingers touched the nape of his neck with a gentle caress.

And suddenly, startlingly and very painfully Sire was gone.
His weight wasn’t crushing Spike. And his cock…… just wasn’t there, and Spike’s internal organs shifted painfully back in place at its sudden removal.

A strong hand lifted Spike’s broken wrist and he screamed at the pain as the bones shifted and were crushed further.

“Not that wrist Illyria, Angelus had broken it badly.”

The wrist was carefully replaced and the firm hand took his other wrist and pulled him upright.

Spike’s vision dimmed and he thought he would pass out he felt something brush against his mouth.

“I think his fangs are broken, you need to cut first, so he can feed.”

It brushed again and this time he felt the warmth of blood against his lips. Carefully he licked and sucked at the blood, a wrist.
He looked up and saw strange creature. A woman with wild dark hair streaked with blue and eyes like icy crystals.

The blood she fed him was like no other he had tasted; alien and bitter it slithered inside his body with a life of its own

Soon she pulled her wrist away and taking up his uninjured one she cut across it with a sharp, dark blade.
Then thrust his wrist at the human’s mouth.

The man closed his lips and turned his head away.

“You will drink Wesley. I do not permit you to leave me.”

The head stayed resolutely turned.
“I knew this was the price, I was prepared for my death, it had to be this way, to be believable, in the plan, for the trap to work. I’m just so terribly sorry that Spike had to suffer like this. I really had no idea that Angelus would treat him this harshly.
But you can take care of him, vampires are hardy creatures.”

“He may heal, eventually, I suppose, but I have no patience for an injured pet and my blood will not heal the worst of his injuries. For that he will need you. So you see if you die you will condemn him too. Was that also part of your plan?”
Spike didn’t really understand what was being said, and he didn’t remember who these people were; but he could tell from the pallor of his skin and the laboured breathing that the man would die very soon.
And Spike knew that he didn’t want that to happen. Maybe when his head was better, when the injuries were healed, and he knew his own mind again, maybe then he might regret this. But not now.

He touched his fingers to the parched lips and the man turned his head slowly.
The clear dark blue was fading and there was but a dim understanding in the gaze that met him.
Spike opened his lips and willed his mind to work.

“P please.”

The dark eyes held his for a moment and Spike took his chance and used his fingers to gently part the lips then held his wrist there, all the while gazing into those dark compelling eyes.

Finally the man moved his lips against the welling cut and then he fixed onto it and began to draw the blood in to his mouth.




~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~




five


Spike had been satisfied with arrangements.
And had been set to leave when there was a change of plan,
The Captain decided the shuttle would be needed while he fulfilled his engagement, so someone would accompany him and take the shuttle back.
Then in three days the shuttle would collect him again.

When he found out who had been selected to chauffer him Spike had been outraged. He refused to go; pointed out that the shuttle’s owner would not want that ape inside her craft, and he accused them of preparing to abandon him on the little moon. But there was no moving the Captain once his mind was made up.

As the appointment was to be in the Guild house, where Spike would be staying, it didn’t matter if the shuttle was elsewhere, Inara was merely the current resident of the shuttle and not the owner so she had no say over it when she was not in residence, and that was the final word on the matter.

Spike was forced to give in with ill grace and settled into the velvets and silks of the day bed. If he was going to be forced to spend the three hours in transit in the company of the ape he might as well make the most of it and let the brute fly the shuttle.

That was fine with Jayne too, there was no way he would let some gorram ~male~ companion fly him anywhere!


When the shuttle landed Spike found himself and his luggage manhandled off the shuttle and into the courtyard of the guild house with unseemly haste. He had barely time to open his parasol, just in case the rays on this particular planet were the flammable kind, when the doors of the craft were shutting and it was off.

Fortunately the sun’s rays proved to be benign and the guild house was most welcoming and delighted to see him.
Spike allowed his ruffled feathers to be soothed as he was led inside with the usual ritual and ceremony accorded to a companion of his status.


After the three days Spike was satisfied with the outcome of his stay, his chosen patroness, had been a beautiful and agreeable woman, and she had been so delighted with his performance that she had paid, not only the exorbitant fee he demanded for his services as companion, but had given him the same again as a bonus.

And Spike had found the guild house to be a delightful place, the rooms were light and airy and the scents of herbs and flowers drifting in through the open windows at night had been a welcome change.
Spike didn’t mind small spaces, but occasionally the cramped confines of Serenity became oppressive.

The shuttle touched down exactly as arranged, Spike couldn’t help but feel relieved to see it.
His leave-taking, unlike the unceremonious arrival, was appropriately slow and measured, was it his fault if every woman and man in the house wanted to kiss him, lingeringly, goodbye?

At last the door was shut and Spike sank back exhausted.
“Seemed they liked you well enough!”
Spike opened his eyes a little and stared at the man, and then with a tired sigh he replied.
“Well I’m a likeable fellow me.”
“When you’re paid to be.”

Spike pouted and wriggled a little, so the silk of his shirt and trousers just brushed against his skin, his delightfully used and sore skin, aching in the most delicious ways and places.

“Not being paid now am I?”
Spike moved again and smoothed the velvet comforter with his bare foot.
The movement drew Jayne’s eye to his elegantly arched foot with the disturbingly long toes, and to the pale green tendrils of the tattoo that seemed to grow from the shadowed space between his first two toes and then snaked around the foot and disappeared round his ankle where it was hidden by his clothing.

Jayne couldn’t help wondering where that tattoo went and his eyes swept up the slender body until it was arrested by the sight of the green leaves and shoots so pale and finely drawn that in most lights they would be invisible snaking up the neck and along the jaw to disappear behind the ear.

Suddenly he realised he had been staring and speculating about the pale body of a man! As his eyes darted away he caught the sparkle of amusement in those unsettling blue eyes.

“See told you I was likeable.”

Jayne glared at him and noticed he was doing something obscene with his tongue, making the ~metal stud~ in it dance about inside his open mouth.

“You are some kind of freak, why would anyone put metal in their tongue?”

Spike just laughed and raised his eyebrow.

Jayne marched off and began the procedures to launch the shuttle.
He didn’t like the ~gorram jien hwo~, with his five pieces of luggage and his fancy clothes, rutting for money with anyone. And now Jayne was sure it was men as well as women and he was going to have words with the captain because that was just disgusting.

The shuttle took off and Jayne set the controls to home in on Serenity, then sat back.
He just didn’t understand some people. Perverts and the like sticking it where it didn’t belong, men rutting with men was as bad as the sad perverts on some of the more remote farming worlds that got a little too friendly with the livestock. He knew that male companions were popular in certain quarters, but he had always considered the bourgeoisie a bunch of degenerates as well.

He supposed if a man was really desperate it might be possible to rut with another man, maybe if someone was holding a gun to your head, or you knew your ship was going to blow in five minutes and there was no way to stop it, maybe then a man might consider it, but that would be giving, not taking. No one but a pervert or a dirty whore would take a cock up his arse, Jayne was certain.


Strangely Spike’s thoughts were kind of similar to Jayne’s. He hadn’t been fucked, really fucked hard, in such a long time. And he was beginning to miss it.
Had his Sire to thank, of course, for turning him on to it, and God he’d never been fucked so hard by anyone as Sire. Of course at first it was pure punishment and torture.
But once things were settled between them and William had surrendered, Angelus was insatiable and William spent more time on his hands and knees or on his back with his arse in the air than he did vertical.
Whole months would go by when he was hardly ever dressed, and never went out. When his body was sore and red from the continual attention, not just his arse, his nipples and his cock too, painful and raw from too much friction. Yet the moment his Sire returned his body would be trembling with tension and ready for more, even if every touch was on the knife edge between ecstasy and agony.

Spike sank into a pleasurable doze, past lovers resurrected and blended with the pleasures he had just enjoyed, and wove themselves together into a vivid and erotic reverie that swept him away into some much needed sleep.

The harsh claxon of the emergency beacon woke Spike with a wrenching shock.
He rose and was headed to the control room when the big human barged back through the door.
He was as white as a ghost and Spike could hear his heart pounding and smell the sweat of fear on him.
But he kept his voice remarkably calm when he spoke.
“I know we aren’t acquainted nor close, and I’m sorry to be the bringer of something this bad, but there’s no hope for us Spike. We’ll be dead soon. Wanted you to have the chance to make your peace and all. You won’t go hysterical on me now will you?”
The big man appeared almost as afraid of the prospect of an hysterical Spike than he did whatever calamity had brought on the prediction of their death.

“What is it?”
Spike remained calm, of course being a vampire could be a distinct advantage in space, and he had survived several ~fatal~ incidents.

“There’s nothing you can do, nothing I can do, just accept it and make your peace. Don’t worry I’ll finish you first, do it real quick and painless, they won’t get you, nor me neither.”

Spike didn’t like the sound of this at all.
But the man wasn’t paying him any more attention; he was rummaging around apparently looking for something.

“I appreciate the kind offer mate, but before you blow out my brains or whatever it is you think you have planned for me, can you tell me what you’re saving me from?”

Jayne sighed in relief as he found a bottle of something that looked alcoholic; he ripped out the stopper and took a huge gulp. Something that was rich and smooth with the flavour of ripe cherry jam and a punch like a mule slid down his throat and warmed his stomach.
Jayne gazed at the bottle with sorry affection. If he’d have realized that Inara, or even Spike, had liquor this good he’d have made more of an effort to be friendly.
He took another hearty swig then replied to the question Spike had asked.

“It’s Reavers, got a lock on the shuttle, pulling us in slowly. They’ll know there’s folk aboard so no point in hiding. Not that there is anywhere to hide. I don’t know if you’ve seen what they do to a man, but it’s a gorram fate worse than death and then some. Either they tear you apart just for the hell of it, or you end up in their larder or they make you one of them and spread the disease wider.”

Spike looked at the human, clearly he had no idea what the Reavers were no more that ~he~ knew what Spike was.

“What if there was a way? Would you take it?”

Jayne looked up at the companion, his eyes were very dark and sparkled, Spike had never noticed this before, and there was a kind humour hidden in their depths.
“Ain’t no way, ain’t nothing to be done ‘cep make your peace.”
He went to take another swig then remembering his manners gallantly wiped the neck of the bottle on his sleeve and offered it to Spike.

“Thanks pet, I’ll have some in a minute, but first let’s just get some things clear.”

Jayne was pleasantly surprised how well the companion seemed to be taking the news. He wondered if he might be amenable to a go as well, before they died,
He was certainly a clean and dainty thing, and Jayne thought he might after all be able to see the attraction, as they were dying an’ all.
Death in space was colder than a witch’s tit and the thought of a little human touch, a bit of final comfort, was beginning to look very interesting.

And he’d heard talk, among the men on Serenity, the first time Spike had been on board, that a friend of a friend of someone in a bar had once paid for a male companion, and that he had quite literally had his brains blown out, right out of his cock and down the companions throat, more that once. They said there had been some special trick or something that had made it…... His mind stopped right there.

Memories of earlier suddenly resurfaced and he pictured the companion, lying back on the pillows, smiling wickedly at him, and rolling his tongue around with that nub of shinny metal bobbing and moving around inside his mouth.

And suddenly he was as hard and ready as he’d ever been when he was fifteen and he discovered what his good right hand was really for.

“You want to start thinking with your other head for a minute there pet?”

That cool but slightly amused voice broke through his thoughts and Jayne looked back at the pretty, pretty man.
And he smiled.

Spike couldn’t believe this. He knew he was a powerful attractive fellow, and he’d turned a few ~straight~ men’s heads in his time, but he hadn’t thought his earlier teasing would take seed and bear such strange fruit.

He backed away as the human took a step towards him.

“Keep it in your pants for a moment luv. Can we get back to the imminent arrival of our death and destruction? How big is this Reaver ship? How many could be aboard?
Can’t we outrun them and make it back to the ship? Or signal them to rescue us?”

Jayne shook his head and sighed

“No we can’t do none of that. There will be at least twenty of them maybe more on board and they won’t give up. If we run they’ll follow, once you’re in their sights they never leave off chasing you. And if we call the ship then they just get killed as well.
“Best thing is to just accept it.
Take a swig of that fine liquor and then come here and show me what it is you companions get paid such fancy wages for. I promise I’ll see to you the best I can and then make your ending real fast, you won’t even know it’s coming.”

Spike just stood for moment thinking. He knew he could take twenty Reavers, no problem at all. Especially as they wouldn’t all come at once. The entry door on the shuttle would only allow two or three to pass in easily and Spike could pick them off, then when enough were dead he could breach their ship and get the rest of them inside.
He also knew that Reavers would be terrified once they realized what was killing them, once they realized he knew how to finish them properly so they couldn’t come back.

Probably let the final survivor get off a distress beacon before he died, likely it would keep the dirty bastards away from this quadrant for a good long time after.

Problem was the human.

No way to safeguard him during the assault.
Reavers would home in on him, purposefully, look to infect him in whatever way they could. In a fight it was near impossible to prevent some kind of wound and even a tiny scratch from a Reaver’s claw could be enough to spread the parasite.

Plus if they were desperate they’d simply hole the shuttle.
Spike could survive that but not the human, there weren’t any suits on board.

While Spike was thinking Jayne made his move, wrapped the slender man in his big warm arms and whispered,
“Don’t waste what time we got here, come on Spike.”

He melted back against the human, the warmth and surprising gentleness of the man was enticing, and he had never really imagined there would be tenderness in this particular embrace. He allowed himself to be turned round and tipped his face up, and they kissed.
I was much sweeter and softer that any kiss had a right to be, the warm tongue licked against the seam of his mouth until he opened and let it in.
His body shuddered at the pleasure of that big sinuous muscle invading his mouth and twining next to his own tongue.
He wanted to know if everything about this man was big and warm and he wanted to surrender to this man, to let him inside.

His body had been aching from use when he returned to the shuttle, but now it was simply aching to be filled again.

And there was a longing, a feeling of bittersweet remembrance from the last big warm human who had made love to him this tenderly.

Spike leaned back in the embrace until he felt the arms tighten around him safely, then he slid one foot up until he had opened himself, until that hard cock was resting against his own, until they could rub and grind against each other while he slid his foot up and down that strong leg.

Their kissing lips and tongues muffled the moan of pleasure that rumbled deep inside the human but the sound touched something deep inside Spike.
Filled him with fire and longing, reminded him why he had chosen this path, this way of dealing with the world. The demon that stirred inside him was so sated with pleasure, so drunk on the constant stimulation and satisfaction that it had no time to miss the violence it had been taught to crave.

The soul was at peace too, knowing that what was given was given freely, that the life of a companion was one focussed on the pleasure and ease of others, and that often with this preternatural body he healed as well as loved, a thing that strangely suited both the human that William had been and the vampire that he became as well.

A thought came to him as he felt him self lifted and carried back to the bed and then laid down, all the while still kissing and writhing against the heated body. That knowing what he did about the nature of his demon, knowing what he did about arcane ritual and knowing that beneath the hard, rude exterior, this mercenary and thief was a clearly gentle and tender man, there might be an answer.
Because this was a man Spike decided he would miss too much if he were gone.

He felt those huge hands as they travelled his body now. Touching and caressing, learning the differences of a male lover, encountering the plug that he always wore touching it tentatively through the thin silk of his pants. He had not expected such an ardent lover, someone so dedicated to his pleasure, not inside this rough body, and now he yearned to know what other secrets there might be.

If Spike had taken a moment to think he might not have done it, might not have spoken so.

But his life had always been a thing lived in the moment and his heart had always been a thing too quickly given.

“Listen pet, I want you, want to feel you inside me, your heat filling me up.”

And Spike was pulling at the clothes that separated them wanting the hot sticky flesh now.

“When you’re buried deep inside me, when your cock is all that I can feel, luv, when you can see how much I want you, and what you do to me. And when you decide if you like what we do together, how we can be together, then I’ll show you something and I’ll ask you something.
And when you’ve cum inside me filled me with your scent, marked me as yours, you can give me your answer.”


~~~ Fin ~~~