Author: Anna
Title: Bleed for Me 1/1
Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Angelus
Disclaimer: If they were mine, this wouldn't be fanfic.
Feedback: Yes please.
Summary: Spike goes to Angel for some soul advice, but finds Angelus instead.
A/N: My first true smut. There's been sex before, but not smut like this. Hurrah!

Spike killed the engine and turned to look at the Hyperion. It stood dark and brooding against an outline of moonlight.


He swung a leg over the back of the bike. Took a lungful of mentholated smoke as he rubbed the back of his neck with a hand. The smoke caught the light as he exhaled, looking more real in the blue night.

He squared his shoulders and strode to the door. His fingertips felt cold, even colder than usual. He clenched his fists and relaxed them, watching the unfamiliar ground as he walked. Avoiding the empty, black panes of the Hyperion entrance.

He reached the door and stopped. Held a tentative hand a hair's breadth from the glass. There was no need to take a breath, but he did anyway. And knocked.

The door swung open.

Spike was taken aback. He stepped inside.

All was unexpectedly quiet. No Fang Gang bustling around with files and weapons, no light except for the blue that seeped through the windows.

He could hear nothing.

He cleared his throat. It sounded massively loud against the thundering silence.

"Angel," he said. It came out as a whisper. "Angel," he called again, loudly this time. He heard the sound reach the high ceiling, echo around the columns and stairway. No answer. Spike walked towards the reception desk. There was a bell. He pinged it, and dulled the sound. A footstep was too loud.

He turned slowly, eyes straining to penetrate the shadows.

"Angel!" he shouted, daring the darkness to suppress him.

Then a voice like smooth gravel from above.

"I heard you the first time, Childe."

Spike spun on his heel, squinting into the dark. It was black.

"Angel?" he said.

He heard a low growl from the shadows. Then he saw him, a pale face emerging into the blue.

"Angel." Spike coughed, then inhaled another deep drag of nicotine.

"Boy." Dark eyes travelled slowly down his body, then back to his face. "Is that a soul I see before me?"

Spike shuffled, looking at the ground. He looked around for an ashtray.

"Eh… yeah," he said distractedly.

There was no reaction in that pale mask. Spike avoided looking at it. He cleared his throat again.

"That's why I'm here, actually. Asked myself, who's a souled vamp like me? And ..." Spike finally looked up at his sire. "Well, there's only you. I need your help."

Footsteps like velvet as he walked down the stairs. Spike stared, then glanced around nervously. Found an ashtray and ground out the butt until it was squashed flat.

His eyes returned to those of his sire.

"My help."

Spike shrugged.


"The soul is a burden."

"So I've discovered," replied Spike.

His sire smiled.

"My help," he repeated. "Hmm. How best can I help you, boy?"

Spike stared as he began to walk slowly around him, step by leonine step.

"You got a happiness clause?"

"No, don't think so."


Spike frowned.


"Happiness clause. With one of those, I know exactly how I'd help you lose that burden."

Spike blinked at the expression on that face. Suggestive, lewd. Knowing.

He coughed again.

"I thought you'd want to help me… you know. Deal with it."

A soft laugh, laced with a snarl.


Spike took a step back, narrowing his eyes and reaching into a pocket. He took out his battered pack of cigarettes and fumbled with shaking hands till one was lit. His eyes never left those in front of him, glinting deep in black sockets.

He inhaled.

"Angelus," he said. Smoke made the shapes of the word.

Angelus smiled.

"Hello, William. I'm back."

Spike took another step back.

"Great. Yeah. Bloody good. But not quite… I'll just be off then, shall I?" He began to sidle towards the door.

"I don't think so." Again that voice. Spike stood still, eyes cast to the ground. Angelus stepped towards him. "William," he said again, heavy with dead breath. He brushed his fingertips over Spike's face. "How have you been?"

Spike shrugged, his eyes still downcast.

"Fine. Strange."

"The last few years have been difficult for you. I can see that. We'll see what we can do with that chip." Angelus ran a hand through Spike's mussed hair. "Your little curse."

Spike sighed and flicked ash on the floor with a thumbnail.

"Leave it," he whispered.

Angelus lifted his chin with a thumbnail and looked into his eyes. He laughed.

"My Slayer-whipped son. In love, William? And now a soul?" Angelus gripped Spike's cheeks tightly between strong fingers and thumb. "It's so nice you take after me in so many ways."

Spike wrenched his face away and took another mentholated drag.

"Although," continued Angelus, "you did it the other way. I lost the soul when I fucked her. You developed one. How'd it happen?"

Spike winced.

"Africa. There's this … cave. I went there."

"I know it. Wanted to give her what she needed, huh?"

Spike nodded, dejected.

"Didn't know she needed another me?"

Spike's eyes flared amber.

"Fuck you. She needs me."

Angelus held his gaze. Spike's eyes returned to blue.

"Anyway," he said, momentary belligerence drained. "How did you -?"

"Become free?" Angelus smiled, eyes bright. "Cordelia. Who knew she'd give me perfect happiness? Should have seen her face when she saw my fangs. Thought it was…" he laughed. "Erotic. She doesn't think it's so erotic now. She'd scream if she had the strength."

"She's still alive?"

"Oh yeah. Not letting that little hottie go so fast."

"What about the rest of your little gang?"

"Oh, they're works in progress. You know I don't like to rush." Angelus twisted his signet ring as he spoke. Spike recognised it, the curlicued A set in diamonds. A gift from Darla, before he had even been born.

"I remember, sire. You always like to take your time."

"How different you would be, my William, had I sired you." Angelus looked wistful.

Spike shook his head.

"One insane childe not enough for you, Angelus?"

"Drusilla was never enough." Angelus walked towards him again, slow and from the hips. "But you, William. You have always shone for me."

Spike backed up another step, until he felt the cold marble cladding of a column against his back. He jabbed the air with two fingers, pointing accusingly at Angelus.

"And bled for you too. Don't think I've forgotten you, sire and all as you are. I haven't bloody forgotten the pain and how much you liked it. Stay away from me."

A laugh rumbled in Angelus's expansive chest.

"You seem to have forgotten how much you liked it too."

Spike hesitated. He threw the cigarette butt on the floor and ground it out with the heel of his boot.

"True," he conceded. "But I hated how much you got off on it."

Angelus nodded.

"And now you're here for my help."

"I came for Angel's help."

"What would he do? Hug you till you got better?" Angelus stood so close now that Spike could feel the lifeless air when he spoke. "No no no. You need me."

Spike pressed himself against the pillar, suppressing an urge to run.

"Why you?"

"Because I'll tell you the truth. The Scourge of Europe takes pleasure in many things, but he never lies."

Spike could only blink. He knew it was true.

"And one more thing," continued Angelus. "I'll give you what you've been craving since eighteen ninety eight."

Spike jutted his jaw.

"And what's that, Sire?" he asked, a cocky tone seeping back into his voice.

Angelus's face became demonic.


Spike stared into amber eyes. Elongated fangs, jagged in an obscene mouth.

Then the oblivion of pleasure.

Somewhere in his mind his own demon was triggered, and he sank into the firm flesh of Angelus's neck. Sire's blood, more potent than any other. Blood he had not tasted in over a hundred years. He felt it flaring like liquid light through his veins, filling chambers of a dead heart, thickening in atrophied arteries. Heard himself whimper as his sire's bulk pressed him harder against the pillar.

Felt the darkness.

Somehow he raised a hand and pushed weakly against a heavy shoulder. Then the other. With every ounce of strength he pushed away.

He pulled his mouth from Angelus's neck and cried out like a child ripped from its mother.

Angelus drew back slowly, a menacing growl in his throat.

Spike panted helplessly against the marble. Fear in his eyes.

Angelus's mouth, bloody and red. Eyes amber and evil under a heavy brow, deep in deep blue shadow. A paw placed around Spike's neck, gently squeezing. He could feel his own blood soaking into his shirt as it ran from the wounds in his throat. Angelus allowed his human face come to the fore.

"Boy." It was a growl with barely a human sound in the word.

Spike held Angelus's wrist with whitening fingers.

"No!" he gasped. "I can't."

"Can't what?"

"Can't go… back." Spike shut his eyes, his face a mask of pain. A red-stained tear ran down his crumpled cheek.

"Fine." Angelus threw him across the lobby. Spike landed with a crack against the hard steps. He cried out, and felt the back of his head. His hand came away red.

Angelus stalked towards him.

"We'll see who's William the Bloody now," he snarled. Spike scrambled backwards up the steps, his skull pounding along a fracture line. Blue spots danced in front of his eyes.

Angelus stood over him, one leg on either side of his body. Moonlight shafted in from the doorway casting his face into extremes of light and shadow. He knelt down, straddling his prone childe. A backhand across the face made Spike's head pound more violently. Blood trickled from his mouth.

"You refuse me, boy?" Angelus's voice was mere breath and snarl. A laugh dripping with someone else's pain. "No one refuses me."

Spike spat blood. He smiled, wincing.

"I refused you, you wanker."

Angelus's eyes flared.

Spike bolstered himself against the steps with his elbows.

"Pillock. You think I'll fall back into your arms? After Sunnydale?" He spat again, this time into Angelus's face. "Not a fucking chance."

Another backhand and he bit his own tongue. Blood seeped into his mouth, blood he had just taken from his sire. He swallowed it.

Angelus laughed.

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