The Highlander Factor

Blue, he had glowed blue. Angel lay on his bed staring at the ceiling and thinking the same thought over and over, and that meant he still had his soul, right? And if Spike still had his soul and he was definitely Angel and not Angelus, what the hell had happened. There was only supposed to be one of them, the prophecies said so, the Powers certainly thought so, to the point of casting Cordelia out. So how could there now be two? He swung his legs over the side of the bed, stood and padded barefoot over to the door. Spike had slept for a good day and a half, and Angel needed to discuss this with someone. It was too sensitive to speak to Cordelia about, and Wesley had called to say he wasn't coming in for a couple of days, Angel suspected until Spike was either completely recovered or preferably gone.

Not bothering to knock he opened the door to the room his Childe had claimed and walked in. It was a mess, there was stuff everywhere, the small quantity of clothing they had brought from Wesley's apartment was strewn across the floor, the quilt kicked into a heap next to the bed, and the whole place reeked of cigarette smoke. That and the wet towels scattered from the bathroom to the table where the cooler lay empty on its side testified that Spike had been awake at least a couple of times since they'd returned.

The vampire in question was doing a good impression of a corpse, face down in the bed his head dropping off thee, ae, arms and legs spread out like a starfish and naked as the day he'd been born. Set alongside the darkened soft curls on the pillow the sight brought back memories Angel felt he ought to be forgetting for his own sanity if nothing else. In the last few years, he had become extremely proficient at sublimating much of his sexual energy in fighting, but Angelus' recent excursion had brought much of it bubbling to the surface like rather unpleasant soup.

He shifted one stragg arg arm and sat down, reaching over to poke Spike in the ribs. It garnered no reaction whatsoever and wasn't this a game they'd played hundreds of times before. Too tempted not to get sucked in Angel poked again and then leaned over until his mouth was inches from his Childe's ear and bellowed.

"William!!"

Spike opened one eye, glared up at him and muttered, "Piss off you noisy bastard, I'm asleep." Then closed it again. No other muscle moved and Angel felt a familiar ire rising in his gut.

He sat casually back against the headboard, and put his feet on the bed then swung them quickly round and shoved Spike of the opposite edge where he landed with a thud and a loud curse. Angel smirked, that move was usually reserved until last, after they'd played for a bit longer so his Childe was probably a bit annoyed right now. He leaned over and looked down expecting to find a pout and a sulk.

Spike met him with a manic grin, grabbed his shirt and yanked him onto the floor, Angel falling with all the grace of a sack of potatoes. That's against the rules, when Spike's off the bed he's supposed to yield was the thought in Angel's head, but Spike wasn't playing by the old rules, he'd invented a new one. Anything goes especially and particularly Angel's tenuous resolve not to get physical with his Childe.

The long cool limbs wrapped around him were too much of a temptation, and Angel squirmed around searching for the perfect position. Got it, Spike was pinned below him and he had easy access to that perfect pouting mouth. Angel took one look and shook his head, now he pouts; sometimes there was no pleasing this one. He leaned down and their lips collided, each as greedy as the other to taste and experience what felt like slightly forbidden fruit. And as Spike arched his body off the floor, melding it to his, Angel ran his hand down his Childe's silky back bringing it to rest, fingers spread, at the base of his spine.

Spike was too busy discovering interesting fact 101 about this incarnation of his Sire to notice. Angelus rarely kissed and when he did it was in the same possessive ferocious way he used the rest of his childer's bodies. In contrast, but no less passionately, Angel actively encouraged participation, allowing Spike's tongue to pursue his back into his mouth. That was enough to elicit a deep moan from them both and Angel writhed slightly as a hand gripped his neck hard and his palate and teeth were explored with enthusiasm. It felt so good, to forget all the problems that had plagued his life in recent weeks and just go with the flow.

When Spike pushed fiercely against him Angel rolled back, lying almost passively as his Childe invaded his mouth and ran his hands over his chest, dragging distractedly at his shirt until it rode up from his trousers. He restricted his movements to gentle caresses, running his fingers through Spike's tousled curls and stroking a thumb gently along his cheek. Spike shifted his weight slightly, bearing down over Angel and pressing him back into the floor, his hands abandoning his exploration of his Sire's chest and pulling frantically at his fly.

Sensing the hopeless need behind his Childe's actions Angel helped, releasing the button and unzipping his light woollen trousers, which were rapidly shucked down and cast aside. His shirt was next, followed by his boxers and only then did Spike calm, staring down at him with eyes still haunted with desperate longing. Angel lay perfectly still under his scrutiny, studying Spike's face and trying to judge exactly which way this was going to go. No words had been exchanged and he resolved that he would allow his Childe to lead, giving Spike what Angelus had never permitted, completeess ess to his body.

Not meeting his gaze, Spike knelt beside him in silence, his breathing shallow and rapid, unlike Angel had ever heard from him before. Slowly, tentatively, a hand reached out and gently touched his chest on the exact spot of his un-beating heart, fingertips followed by fingers and completed by a palm, flattened against his skin. Spike cocked hea head as if expecting to feel a heartbeat, then frowned slightly and Angel opened his mouth speak, closing it again when a single finger rested on his lips.

The hand moved, still flat and spread, gaining maximum contact with every small motion, an exploration that rapidly became a quest when the other joined it. Roaming across his body, discovering every muscle group and joint, each hollow and curve, slowly building an intense desire in Angel's body he had never believed possible. When Spike's mouth joined his hands, he couldn't suppress a gasp, and shockingly he heard its echo fall from his Childe's lips ghosting breath over his suddenly too sensitive nipple.

He allowed himself to be turned and rolled, acquiescing to Spike's unspoken request for total, if temporary, jurisdiction. The search continued across his back and sides, shoulders and legs, painstakingly slow and thorough, his Childe's hands, mouth and eventually his complete body moving over him, frictionless and smooth, covering him and soothing away the last vestiges of his pain and remorse.

Fingers and mouth ran in tandem down his spine, and Angel arched up into the touch pressing back into Spike's welcoming hands, crying out with unexpected pleasure as a tongue sought entrance to his body. This ingress had forever been forbidden but Angel was powerless to resist, having surrendered control he was not about to renege when that permission was exploited to its fullest extent. He red end entirely allowing himself to simply feel and was rewarded by a skilful mouth which nipped, suckled and probed until his breathing matched that which he had wondered at before.

Waves of pleasure were rushing through him, and his body simultaneously felt numb and hypersensitive, distant and yet so totally centred he was aware of every nerve. He dug his fingerto tto the rough nap of the carpet, its harsh woollen fibres catching in his nails, and adding to an already overwhelming sensation. Fingers replaced the mouth, breaching him slowly, as gently as any other touch his Childe had offered up, and Angel could hear his breath take on a slightly altered note from the welcome invasion.

Time skewed, each moment lasting for infinitesimal eternities, sensations spiralling rapidly to a single point then whirling outward to take possession of his body, and he began to shake, bone deep and uncontrollably. From somewhere he heard a deep reverberating purr, deliberately toned to match and soothe, and somehow it worked, calming his body on a level he was beyond governing. As he quieted, the questing fingers were withdrawn, leaving him temporarily adrift, in sensory depravation, eyes unseeing, ears plugged against the world, and he was turned again, from front to back, quailing from the loss of total body contact he'd hardly been able to feel.

Careful hands manipulated his limbs, folding his legs gently against his chest, leaving him exposed and surfacing until suddenly, finally, in inevitable consequence of this deliberate leisurely dance, his body was penetrated. His eyes flew open and he reached out, groping for physical support. Spike grasped his hand, twining their fingers and met Angel's gaze with a slightly quizzical one of his own, his purr continuous and reassuring.

"Ready?"

It was one word that contained a thousand potential meanings and resounded through Angel's head. Was he ready? It was a little late for second thoughts. He nodded, and smiled when Spike released his legs allowing him to position them as he pleased, then hissed as he started to move with languorous thrusts that further stoked the fire threatening to consume him whole. With unexpectedly expert timing, Angel wrapped his legs around Spike's waist and pulled him down, wanting to lose himself again in his Childe's mouth. It was an easy task as their tongues mirrored their bodies, tangling and entwining, stroking and colliding, until Spike retired, resting his forehead against Angel's as his need to breath overwhelmed his desire to continue the kiss.

As he pulled away, Angel arched toward him with a whimper, having lost the contact he needed to bring him to completion and Spike smiled down at the plaintive cry. "Touch yourself for me. I want to see you."

Another game, played more considerately by Spike's rules than by Angelus', but a familiar anchor in this alien territory nonetheless. And Angel complied, stroking himself gently, building the layers of sensation one over another, watching his Childe who was gazing avidly at him, his breath now coming in panting gasps as he increased the pace and power of his thrusts. When Angel started to keen quietly in the back of his throat, Spike frowned slightly then hooked his arm around the back of Angel's knee, raising it quickly over shoushoulder and slid one hand under his buttocks lifting him and changing the angle of penetration.

With a gasp of surprise Angel bucked, his body bending into an impossible arch then started to meet each thrust with his own, his Childe driving into him faster and deeper. Their eyes locked in as intimate an embrace as their bodies, each witness to the other's transformation as passion stripped away their human countenance and bared their demon souls. As if that golden gaze were onl only further permission his body required Angel keened again, this time his body shuddering and writhing with orgasmic release, dousing his belly and chest with come.

Still quivering, he moaned slightly as his other leg was raised and his Childe pounded into him, chasing his own climax, face a picture of concentration and eyes glazing as he found the rhythm he sought. Angel smiled up at the familiar sight and waited for the sounds he knew accompanied it, sure enough the panting breaths turned to incoherent curses until with a small bitten off sob, Spike jerked spasmodically against him and Angel felt his bowels flood with his Childe's seed.

With a groan Spike allowed Angel's legs to drop to the floor and collapsed on top of him, laying motionless for a moment caught up in his post orgasmic high. When the chest he was resting on started shaking Spike looked up with a confused frown only to see Angel, a broad grin on his face, repressing what for all the world looked like laughter.

"And what is so funny?" He was aiming for hurt, but he was too tired and it sounded snarky.

"I'm sorry. It's not you. Well, actually it is." That earned Angel a raised eyebrow and enough movement to elicit a gasp as Spike carefully withdrew from his gloriously aching ass.

"I didn't hear you laughing earlier." Now the tone was petulant and Angel knew he had better explain quickly or face the consequences. Spike sat up and blinked owlishly around the room, obviously searching for something and Angel reached for his hand, only to have it shaken off as his Childe pounced on his jeans buried under the quilt and located a slightly battered packet of cigarettes in the pocket.

Angel frowned at him quizzically. "I thought you'd given up?" Spike wiped himself with a shirt he'd also rescued and threw it to Angel.

"I have, except outside and in my room. If you don't like it, leave." There were seconds left now to explain.

"It wasn't what we did that made me laugh. It was seeing you; samesame as Angelus remembered but through my eyes and it was just strange."

Spike paused, unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth and lighter poised halfway. "So now I'm strange as well as funny." The harshness of the statement was tempered he she sparkle in his eyes, and Angel knew he was at least partially forgiven for his faux pas.

"It was weird. With your darker hair and the expression on your face when you come, the noises you made. It was all just the same as if no time had passed at all, yet here we are, virtual strangers, having sex on the carpet."

"We don't have to be strangers." The soft note Angel remembered from the basement was back in Spike's voice and his eyes had become evasive again.

"Spike, I can't..." When an interruption looked imminent Angel reacted badly. "No, dammit, this time you will listen to what I have to say."

Hands held up in surrender Spike sat on the bed and waited, and Angel took a deep breath before continuing.

"I can't love you. I 'love' Buffy. I 'love' Cordelia. You; I want, desire. I still feel Angelus' possessiveness, I own you but I don't love you." As he finished speaking Angel dropped his head not wanting to see the pain he had caused with his words. There was silence and he waited it out.

"Good shag though." It was forced humour; Spike covering for his real feelings but it wasn't that terrible rage.

"Yep." Angel grinned and received a smug one in return. "Good sex, great sex. Why didn't I let you do that years ago?"

Spike rolled his eyes at the ridiculous idea. "Oh, like Angelus would have let me."

Angel looked inside for the truth of that statement and discovered a rather subdued, almost sheepish demon. They didn't often communicate consciously Angelus tended to make his presence felt in more subtle ways but it was possible.

As Angel carried on his silent inner conversation Spike sat watching him, wondering what was going on, his Sire had a strange unfocussed look on his face that eventually broke into a smile.

"He says, if he'd known he would have let you."

You could have knocked him down with a feather. "You...you can talk to him? He's in there?" His unlit cigarette still dangled from his fingers, forgotten.

Angel grinned again and nodded then frowned, realising something. "You mean you can't?"

"I never tried, too busy dealing with the dreams and all the other shit and it's a bit late now, innit."

The smile that graced Angel's face was one of the most genuine Spike had ever seen. "No, I don't think it is."

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

They walked downstairs together deep in conversation having rediscovered what both had missed so much over their long years apart, the camaraderie and sense of family, the unspoken understanding of being an eternal creature trapped in a briskly changing world. An unfortunate consequence of their preoccupation was a complete failure to notice the reception committee awaiting them in the lobby.

As their feet hit the bottom step a strategically cleared throat attracted their attention - to a Slayer ready to do battle, a vampire hunter with his axe poised, and a selection of cross bows.

"Umm...guys?" Angel knew better than to take another step and put out a restraining hand when he heard a quiet growl next to him.

"Angel?" Cordelia stepped forward a hopeful, quizzical look on her face and Angel thought how adorable she looked with her brow and nose all crinkled up like that.

"Yes?" He said it slowly, perplexed by their sudden change in attitude. When he had brought Spike back and all had witnessed the reaction of the warlock's powder there had been a general feeling of relief. Why would that have changed, unless...oh. He hadn't realised they'd been that noisy.

Angel held up his hands and stepped forward slowly, not wanting to do anything that would precipitate violence. "Cordy? I know how this looks but it's not what you think." He paused, reviewing the statement. "Actually it is but the thing is..."

Out the corner of his eye, Angel could see Fred moving and he glanced towards her just as she threw something in his face, blinding him temporarily.

"Angel!" The relief in Cordelia's voice was palpable.

"Why is Cordelia glowing?" When Fred spoke, Angel dashed at his eyes then stared at the radiant woman, frozen in her tracks staring down at herself and, as he went to move, he realised that his own skin was reflecting the same aqua hue.

Gunn lowered his axe in amazement. "Now that's plain weird, they're both doing the glowy thing."

"Angel?" He crossed the lobby towards her and held her gently, the others watching on bemused, as the couple glowed blue for a few more seconds.

"Bet the Watcher would know." Angel looked up to see Spike, head cocked on one side, glaring at them from the stairs. God this was going to be so difficult, maybe he could get Cordy to understand. Or maybe not, he reflected as a fist hit him hard in the chest.

"How could you?" She pulled out of his arms and glared up at him, all trace of concern gone from her face and replaced with righteous anger and humiliation. "With him. After everything you said. Angel, how could you do that to me?"

She spun away and he could smell her tears as she ran towards the stairs, barging past Spike and nearly knocking him down in her haste to leave the lobby. He tried to follow and got as far as the third step before he was caught.

"Leave her, mate. I think she needs some alone time right now."

Alone time. Time away from him. Because he had hurt her. With this creature. He could just as easily ripped her still beating heart from her chest and caused her no lesser pain. Angel's fragile control snapped and Angelus took the opportunity to add his opinion on the matter. He pushed into Spike's face, purring out all his resentment in one crushing comment.

"And you'd know all about giving women what they want, wouldn't you boy."

It was carefully constructed to push as many of his Childe's buttons as possible and hey, Angel thought when a fist landed in his face driving him back up the stairs, it worked.

The humans scattered, flinging themselves out of the way of the two vampires as the fight ranged around the lobby then back up the stairs to encompass the whole hotel, only mutual concern for Cordelia keeping her room out of bounds. As they vanished upstairs, people appeared from their various hiding places and reconvened in a huddle by the couches looking a little shell-shocked.

"Man when they fight, they do not hold back."

Fred put a hand on his arm. "Charles, I think maybe we should call Wes. I know he isn't well and all, but there's something going on here that we need to understand and it sure isn't anything that falls into my area of expertise."

He nodded and she went into the office, leaving him and Faith to guard the door in case the battling vampires put in another appearance, though judging from the sounds coming from the higher levels of the hotel they were safe for the next few minutes. The logical thing to do was to leave them to it and wait outside, but as Faith pointed out, Cordelia was stuck and they owed it to her to stay put.

Thus it was that Wesley entered the hotel twenty minutes later to be greeted by a distraught Fred, an edgy Slayer and a defensive vampire hunter, all still wielding their weapons and casting nervous glances toward the balcony where they could hear and occasionally see the fight continuing.