Honourable Sons

Fic: Honorable Sons

Author: josie_h

Pairing: Spike/Angel

Rating: Mature Audiences (M/M sexual content)

Summary: The final battle came at a terrible price. Can our boys recover some of what they’ve lost? Do they want to?

Spoilers: Post end of S5 AtS so Minor if any

Author’s Note: Don’t own the characters etc and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give them life.

--------- Ch 1 -------------

“Spike!”

*Bloody Hell - what now!*

A low, growled “You little bastard!”

Then another yell – but this one with a groan of pain, “Spike! Get *in* here.” And finally a rather petulant, “Please?!”

The blonde sauntered through the bedroom door to find his Sire sprawled on the floor *again*.

“Oh G… Bloody Hell!! Will you *stop* trying to get up… you git!” the last few words cut off with a slight “umphh” as he lifted his companion back onto the bed. The harsh tone belied his concern, but the gentle touch and quiet caress of the forehead once his charge was resettled, did everything to express his true sentiment.

He hated seeing anyone like this, and knew first hand what lack of mobility and helplessness could do to a person…

Spike dropped into true face, opened his wrist and presented it, “Drink, Sire, please drink.”

The elder vampire took the proffered wrist reverently with a nod of thanks, then closed his eyes and began to take in the rich blood of his Childe, his partner, his savior and now, his nurse.

All too soon the wrist was released, and Spike realized that his patient had returned to unconsciousness. He stayed for a time, petting the silky dark locks, now almost as long as he remembered them from Italy when they were there… the first time. It was to be expected, remaining uncut for nearly eight months. Eight months of hiding; eight months of pain and frustration; eight months of Angel the invalid; but eight months that had also reestablished a deep friendship and intimacy that they had both missed for over a century…

It was fortunate that the dragon had only been able to take one swipe with its talons before it fell to the vampire’s sword. It was unfortunate that the talons had found their mark.

Spike had watched his Sire fall, unable to reach him in time as he fought for his own survival (or to ‘take as many with him’ as he could, he was not quite sure at the time). Mere seconds later a white blast of energy had thrown him to a far wall of the alley and all had gone black. When he awoke, the demon army was gone, as was Illyria. Why or where they went, he never questioned. All he knew was that there were dead demon remains scattered around the area, oozing various putrid fluids and assaulting his senses.

Spike had known at the time that his right arm, several ribs and his left knee, had all been shattered in the collision with the wall. He also had several deep stab wounds – origin unknown – in his side. Yet he had instinctively crawled toward a muffled groan coming from somewhere around the carcass of the dragon.

To his joy he had discovered his Sire! Not the dust he’d anticipated, but a semiconscious, badly injured vampire, pinned under the abdomen of the beast with only his torso visible. Spike had crawled over, taken his Sire’s arms and levered the beast, with his good leg for just long enough to pull his comrade free, then dragged him to the safety of a manhole. He had eased the by now unconscious Angel through as best he could, and retreated to the sunless safety of the sewers.

Present day---------

Angel was awake and ‘pissed off’ “You need to make a call Spike – just f’ing call them”

Spike could no longer hold his tongue…“So let me get this straight…. You f@#$ing told me early on that you were in *no way* goin’ to access them… months ago… when this first happened! … I suggested it *remember*!!.... *I* suggested it and you told me *no*. So I’m sorry Sire,… but I’ve been a bit too busy ‘alf ‘inchin’ on our behalf, to notice that you, ‘lord and master of the tormented soul’, are finally realizing the merit in usin’ those accounts!! For *God sake*, we nicked half of it from the aristocracy, *legit* payment for ‘services rendered’ an’ all that, I seem to recall you sayin’! And I’m *not* goin’ to apologize for nickin’ bloody Goering’s gold – I mean geez Angel! Not even the Master could have matched him in the ‘soulless prick of the year’ competition! (except in the ‘prick part ‘course!)” A wiggled eyebrow signaled the end of the ‘rant’.

Angel knew him to be right on all counts, however he also knew that for the first part of their ‘flight’, the main concern had been total anonymity. Without knowing the status of the senior partners or their earthly representatives, it was nigh on impossible to determine who was friend or foe. Spike had remembered being hungry before, but he had not been trying to feed his wounded Sire at the time. Now he often felt the screaming pain of starvation gnawing at him.

With no money, he had on occasion during their travels, defied his soul and gone hunting, trying to pick on those in the cities who ‘deserved to be bitten’. With Angel in his current state, moving cities was also a challenge, but one Spike had risen to, managing to traverse the country in a wide circle during the eight long months.

The pattern was always the same. In the dead of night, he would carefully lift and carry his Sire wrapped mummy-like in soft blankets, to a sewer exit, large duffel bag slung over the other shoulder. He would gingerly place his (hopefully by then, passed out with pain) Sire and their belongings on a dry surface, open a manhole and find a suitable van, generally an old delivery vehicle with no rear windows. He would then haul his Sire and the bag up, nestle the older vampire as comfortably as he could in the rear of the van, hotwire it, and drive as inconspicuously as possible until daylight threatened.

Another town, another small hotel (if they had money), or barn, or crypt, or (on bad days) even a sewer or cave until they reached the next ‘safe place’. Safe meant places with few demons; places where the vamps were all fledges and didn’t know the feel of a master close by; places where the remnants of the Wolf, Ram and Hart were least likely to search; places that held no harsh memories.

Sometimes the stolen item was driven for more than two nights, but after a brush with the law and the constant threat of running out of fuel due to lack of funds, Spike simply wouldn’t take the risk. On one unfortunate evening a Sheriff and his deputy had stopped them, apparently in search of a fugitive who had absconded from their small county jail. They were waved on their way after a cursory look, Spike having introduced his crippled brother. The law enforcers had not questioned the ownership of the vehicle or asked anything difficult, but the incident had rattled Spike.

It was during their last move that Spike had made the decision to stop running. They were only two or three hours from their goal, San Francisco, when the threat of sunshine forced yet another stop.

Fortunately the van they had been driving had contained a bonus. Under the seat, Spike had discovered a cigarette packet with nearly three hundred dollars inside, and a couple of suspicious little packs of white powder. He had thought for a moment before tossing the drugs and pocketing the cash.

He had pulled into a reasonable looking hotel “The Napa Marriott” and checked in, negotiating a twenty four hour stay, after the rather irksome night clerk who, though reasonably sympathetic, had still insisted on ‘seeing this sick brother’! Spike suddenly realized that he really must look like a vagrant with a wad of cash – unlikely to instill a whole lot of confidence as to his honesty, in the hotelier.

Prior to ‘picking up the van’ they had been living *very* rough, hadn’t washed in days, weeks possibly. The blonde vampire had become ‘heroin thin’ over the past months of feeding his Sire when other blood was unavailable, often giving up the precious fluid when he had eaten barely enough to sustain himself.

He allowed the jumped up bellhop to watch while he carefully lifted his dear Sire. Angel had inhaled sharply and cried out in pain as Spike stepped from the van. Seeing they had an observer, who was wide eyed and obviously shocked at his emaciated condition, Angel was no longer able to hold back his humiliation and sobbed uncontrollably.

“Oh God, man. Do you need a doctor or something? There’s a great guy in Angwin. I know he could at least help with the pain. What’s wrong with him anyway?”

Spike who was striding toward the lift at the time, had barely contained his game face and turned to snarl, “He’s a fucking cripple and he’s getting worse and there’s nothing we can do….” It was followed by a hitched whisper, “There’s nothing *I* can do… There’s nothing *I* can do…”

He had ended up sliding down the wall next to the elevator, Angel still cradled in his arms, face buried in his beloved Sire’s long dark locks, rocking his charge and crying openly in front of the shocked human.

“C’mon man, I’m sorry if I upset you, c’mon… I’ll help you to your room yeah? And tell you what, you have an extra day free… c’mon man…’m sure the boss would agree, I’ll get your bag… yeah?”

He had then given Spike a rather embarrassed smile, carefully taken the bag and encouraged the vampire up to his room. Angel had still been in tears, keening quietly, no less consolable than when he first realized they were being watched.

The younger vampire had at that moment made the decision. Regardless of Angel’s reluctance to use the Aurelian fortune – guilt over its origins and fear of discovery too much until this point – Spike knew they had to change something and get his Sire well. The only way to do both would be to stop running, access the funds and settle somewhere, taking the risk of discovery…

The following day he had therefore been both stunned and relieved to discover his Sire had come to the same conclusion.



----- Part 2 -----

“p]I will call them *after* you’ve eaten a little more. C’mon Sire, a few more minutes without funding is not going to do anything, but you falling out of bed again ‘cause you’re too bloody dizzy with hunger to work out which way is up… just… c’mon Sire… Please!” Spike eased himself gently onto the bed beside his maker, taking care not to bump the frail limbs, and held out his arm.

Angel relented, reached over and lovingly stroked the defined cheekbones of his Childe, “For you, Spike… my beautiful boy… I’ll drink for you.” Angel put the wrist to his mouth again, dropped his fangs and drank the rich fluid.

As the blood was drawn Spike’s arousal grew. He ached to be able to finish the activity with a mutually satisfying, ‘shag’, and knew that Angel was feeling the same. But it could not be. Instead he saw to his Sire’s needs as soon as the wrist was released. He caressed the semi hardness through the bedcovers until the older vampire was fully erect, then lifted off the bed, gingerly pulled the covers down and put his mouth over the firm member.

There could no longer be obvious participation from his lover, no position changes or gyrating hips but he worked the stiffness with an expert mouth until rewarded with a groan and a cool stream of dead seed. He brought himself off by his own hand whilst still licking his Sire’s softening shaft. With his own completion, he kissed the tip, followed by the concave belly, the sternum on a too obvious ribcage, and finally pressed his lips to the older vampire’s mouth, slipping a tongue in to let him taste the combination of Sire and Childe.

He watched as a single tear tracked from closed eyes to the hairline just above the ear level, and made out the whispered, “Oh god Spike… my favorite Childe…. My lovely boy… thank you…. thank you.”

He kissed Angel on the forehead and gently stroked the long hair until the dark vampire fell asleep once more.

Angel woke a few hours later to the feel of early evening and the sound of his Childe reentering the room.

Spike deposited an armful of clean, dryer warmed clothes on an armchair near the door.

“Evenin’ sleepy.”

Still waking, Angel momentarily forgot his state of health and tried to sit up, immediately flopping back onto the pillows with a quiet groan.

The younger vampire was beside him in a moment, “C’mon Sire. Let’s sit you up a bit and get those pins moving shall we.”

“Did you eat, Spike?”

“Bovine. Straight from the vein too, all good and no lasting damage done, Sire.”


Spike did as he had done every day for the past eight months. He gently rolled his Sire onto his front, took a bottle of warming cinnamon oil from the side table and poured a small amount into his palm. He then proceeded to massage the inert legs, the aching joints, and the damaged back. He noted that the bed sores had healed – courtesy of a soft bed and decent feeding and was thankful for that small mercy.

Having completed his task, Spike turned the older vampire again, noting that silent tears had started again.

“Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, but you know it’s better if we get in a massage…. C’mon Sire, c’mon! Look I’ll run a bath and we can have a bit of a float yeah? C’mon…” He wiped away the salty drips tracking down the cheeks.

Angel flung a weak arm over his face, “Why don’t you just stake me Spike? Just stake me and finish it.”

Spike flew off the bed turning angrily as he reached the bathroom door.

“No! You don’t get to do that!!... You don’t give up!!... You are *not* bloody leaving me alone again!... You will not bloody well quit!!” His eyes flashed yellow as he stormed into the bathroom to start the water, brooking no further argument.

Hot water running, Spike wandered to the basin and leaned heavily, stared at the blank mirror and let his own upset drop large tears onto the waiting porcelain. “F@#Kin’ Hell!” He stood for several minutes while the bath filled, then wiped his face with the back of his hand and headed back to the bedroom.

Smiling as best he could to cover his own distress, he stripped off the oversized shirt he had been wearing whilst washing the rest of their clothes and lifted his Sire to the bath. Spooning him from behind, he settled the taller man between his own legs, took a small bottle of shampoo and began to wash the dark hair.

As soon as the suds were rinsed, Angel’s head fell back on the slim shoulder of his companion, “I love you Spike. You know that don’t you…” Spike continued his ministrations by sliding a soapy face wash cloth over the too thin torso, “Hmmm… really love you” Angel’s eyes closed again but this time he turned, placed his lips against Spike’s neck and gently nipped and licked over the sensitive claim mark he had made a century and a half earlier.

With his Sire dry, tucked up in the comfort of the luxurious bed and replete from yet another feeding, it was time for Spike to call the banks in Europe and access their long neglected funds.

“Caisse d'épargne de Bassecourt? Ici William Aurelius. Je souhaite m'entretenir avec votre gérant des comptes classiques et des placements à long terme.” (This is William Aurelius, I wish to speak to your classic account, long term investment manager)

After several seconds a baritone voice came on the line, “Ici Jacques Du Puis.”

“William Aurelius. Je vous appelle au nom de mon *Sire*" Nous souhaitons transférer quatre millions de Francs Suisse dans le compte de Liam Aurelius. Le numéro de Sécurité?”(William Aurelius, I’m calling on behalf of my Sire. We wish to transfer four million Swiss francs to the credit account for Liam Aurelius. Security number?)

“S'il vous plaît, Monsieur Aurelius, c'est obligatoire.”
(If you please Mr Aurelius, that is a requirement)

Spike recited the fifteen digit code without hesitation, the eight digit check number, then answered two further security questions. After a short pause he was assured the money had been transferred, thanked the banker, and bid his farewell.

“It’s done, Sire. ‘S only three and a half but should tide us over for a good while.”

Angel closed his eyes and sighed an unnecessary breath of relief.

Spike made four further calls. Two to San Fransisco realtors catering for ‘special needs clients’, one to the Watcher’s council in Surrey England and a final one to British Airways.

By one in the morning, they had taken a large, furnished apartment near the water in the Berkeley area; and he had pre-booked flights from Heathrow to S.F. for a certain Willow Rosenberg.

He wrapped his Sire carefully once more, carried him to the van and settled him for what he hoped was to be their last trip for some time.

Reentering the hotel, he paid for the room along with the substantial telephone bill with a long unused platinum credit card, silently tossed a generous cash tip across the counter (to the great surprise of his erstwhile night manager) and stalked out.

As they pulled onto the highway, Spike allowed himself to feel the slightest glimmer of hope for the future.



--Part 3--

The move this time was surprisingly easy, made so by Spike’s knowledge that they were destined for known accommodation, and that there would be some relief from the constant running, at least for a time.

Spike pulled into the underground garage well before sunrise and located the apartment key taped inside the rollout recycle bin, as arranged. Leaving his Sire asleep, he carried the duffel bag upstairs to inspect their new abode.

An airy apartment on the second floor with a view of the water (if you were prepared to stand on tiptoe) in one direction and a lovely park in the other, judging by all the trees he could see in the pre dawn light. It was decorated generally neutral tones and pale wood, offset by dark marble benches and bathroom features, giving it a Scandinavian feel. The hundred and fifty year old fledge in Spike couldn’t help smile, *Sire will be pleased*.

He closed all the curtains – noting with some dismay that the ‘water view’ windows were not adequately blocked out. Wandering onto the balcony, he found a couple of west facing ‘sail’ awnings that seemed to have been taken down for the winter. He quickly reattached them to their stays, hoping that they would at least shade a part of the afternoon sun and provide a little ‘extra’ until he had a chance to change the drapes.

Furniture was rich redwoods and plush leather – all the things his Sire liked. The huge futon in the bedroom and spa in the bathroom were certainly Spike’s ‘thing’.

He checked the guest room – elegant and simple. Good for the visiting Willow.

Inspecting the study, he saw the extras ordered for their specific needs, noting that large sums of money seemed to make things happen far more efficiently. A top of the line computer and connection; a redwood desk and leather chair; one folded massage table; one specialized ‘turning frame/bed’ for human spinal patients; and one wheelchair, all awaiting use. He rolled the last item into a store cupboard in the hallway so as not to upset his patient, then went to collect his Sire.

As he approached the van, his vampire senses allowed him to hear the plaintive call. “Spike” followed by a hitched and unnecessary breath then, “Oh please….. Spike where are you?”, the last question trailing off into another hitched cough.

Spike opened the back of the van and kicked himself *yet again* for leaving his Sire alone. He dropped to his knees beside his distraught partner and regardless of the pain inflicted, grabbed him and hugged the larger form close to his chest. He rocked them for some minutes before Angel responded.

“Oh, oh… Spike?” Angel’s eye focused on the familiar face staring down at him.

“Yeah, c’mon ya old ponce, let’s get you up to our new abode shall we?” A fond smile was followed by Spike rewrapping his precious bundle and lifting him with the greatest of care.

Relaxing into the arms of his Childe, Angel wondered at the gift he had been afforded - his blonde beauty of so many years, the forgiving lover, the tender partner… And the man who, when similarly crippled, Angelus of Sunnydale, had taunted and tortured. He buried his head into his Childe’s chest again as they stood waiting for the elevator. This time Spike heard a whispered, “Oh William, I am *so* sorry, I am *so* sorry!!”

“What are you on about now, you daft bugger?” Spike tempering the statement with a kiss to his Sire’s temple. “Nothin’ to ‘pologise for, ‘s a new day!”

The doors of the lift opened and they stepped in, Spike accidentally hitting his charge’s knees on the handrail as he reached for the control panel, eliciting a pained cry from the man in his arms.

They exited seconds later with Angel continuing his “I’m so sorry, I hurt you, I hurt you” mantra, though Spike did note with some relief, that it had become somewhat meditative, rather than the initial ‘acute pain’ version.

He sighed and pondered. *Wonder whether funds will extend to several years of counseling for the undead, cause… bloody hell!*

Spike had ensured that all the lamps and in-ceiling spotlights were on and set to ‘soft’, displaying the apartment at its very best, indeed photo ready for a home style magazine.

“Right, so this is home. At least for a while”

He walked his Sire around each room, explaining the features and finally stepping outside to scent the fresh air and note the wide balcony.

Angel had been fascinated and horrified in equal measure by the spinal bed and massage table, though begrudgingly acknowledged the genuine benefit available from both – at least he might have some relief from the ever present bed sores…

Spike settled his partner on the king sized bed, then made an excuse to head back and lock the van. Instead he drove it to the shore of the bay, parked, and rang the local police from a phone box to report an abandoned car with Nevada number plates. He then sprinted back to their abode.

Willow was two days away, but Spike wanted to have his Sire ‘settled’ well before that.


----- Part 4 -----

“C’mon luv, please drink, c’mon…” It was Spike’s turn to be near tears as he stood wrist open, dripping blood across his Sire’s lips, and yet the older vampire still resisted.

The frustration and worry of running for the last eight months had been relieved, but sadly had simply brought the very critical nature of Angel’s condition into sharp focus. With a reliable supply of human and animal blood delivered on demand, things should have been easier. Instead Spike found himself drinking the precious liquid then near force feeding his Sire. Twice on the previous day, he had found it necessary to deliberately hurt the invalid as a way of forcing the demon to the surface and appeal directly to the most primitive survival instincts in order to have Angel feed.

Angel had been strapped onto the turning bed in the morning of their first day. Despite the ability to now rotate his dear maker, even allowing him to spend some time on the second evening in an upright position (something that had not been an option for three quarters of a year), Angel had stopped eating again. Relieving the pain had only served to highlight his own state of acute neediness and lack of recovery to the elder vampire.

“You leave me draining onto this floor and I will bloody well sling that thing so’s you’re upside down for the rest of the day… you stupid, self indulgent ponce!” He shoved the wound directly onto his Sire’s tightly pursed lips, “At least have the decency to lick it closed.” The last statement came as a quiet plea and finally the older vamp’s tongue emerged to clean away the stream of blood and lave the wound until it partially healed.

Spike heard a tentative knock at the front door of the apartment, patted his Sire on the arm and wandered out to see who it was.

Opening the door resulted in an armful of rather incoherent, redheaded witch.
“Oh Goddess! Oh G….. it is you… I mean, I knew it was, but now it really is… And Oh Goddess!”

Spike simply stood hugging the woman to his chest until she calmed. Willow pulled away slightly, gave the vampire a dazzling smile and said rather sheepishly “Um Hi”, then turned, pulled her luggage inside and closed the door.

“So um Angel?”

“In the other room pet, although I’m pretty sure he’ll be having a snooze so why don’t we get you settled first. Your room is through here…” Spike rolled the suitcase to the guest room, idly noting that the witch had more luggage for her three week sojourn than the total of all the possessions he and Angel had moved into the apartment with.

“Drink or anything? I imagine it’s been a long day.”

“Um yeah, love some water if you don’t mind. Was an OK flight, only really one stopover in New York so that was fine – longest bits seem to have been the car rides at either end! And by the way mister, since when could you afford to hire limo? Or this apartment? You guys didn’t go all grrr on someone rich did you?”

“Not recently pet. We’ve had some money put aside for a while now.” The answer was deliberately not intended to inform so she did not press the matter further.

She followed Spike out into the kitchen, gratefully accepted a glass of water and wandered out onto the balcony.

She stood on tiptoes, then a patio chair until satisfied that she could indeed see the bay, and called back to Spike, “This place is gorgeous.” Receiving no reply she headed back inside toward murmuring voices and a low growl coming from the study.

Approaching the door she made out Spike’s firm but sympathetic tone of voice pleading with Angel.

“C’mon Sire, she’s gotta see you eventually, else ways how’s she gonna fix you.”

“But….”

“No more buts ya git, ‘s better now whilst you’re on that thing and we can move you around a bit.”

Willow stood at the door observing the extreme care with which Spike rotated the bed ninety degrees until Angel was again face up, undid the head strap and watched the tender touches as he brushed a stray lock of long hair from his Sire’s eyes and gently kissed his forehead. The figure on the bed did not look like Angel other than in his gaunt face. Even clothed, the obviously wasted limbs, prominent hip bones and emaciated torso caused Willow to hitch her breath and pause in her approach to the bed.

Abandoning the intended cheerful, chirpy hello, she instead moved behind Spike, put her arm around his waist in a reassuring hug, then leaned forward to kiss Angel on cheek.

“Hey sweetie, it’s just me! Spike asked me to come see if I can help.”

“Oh God, Willow!” Angel closed his eyes, squeezing out tears that streaked down into his hair.

Willow stood with her arm still around Spike and petted the long dark hair in silence.

“I’m going to have to examine your injuries Angel. Angel? Is that OK?”

A small nod came from the older vampire although his eyes remained closed.

Spike unhooked the straps holding Angel’s head and upper body then eased the invalid’s arms out of the old baggy sweat shirt and with a minimum of movement, pushed it carefully over his head. Meanwhile Willow retrieved a number of crystals and a magnifying glass from her bag.

She held back a gasp as she approached the sickly vampire. The naked torso was a far cry from the perfect male specimen she remembered, and she knew that without establishing the cause of the malady and curing him quickly, there could be only one dusty outcome. She marveled at Spike’s ability to care for one so ill for so long, and on the run, from what he had told her on the phone days earlier.

Willow stepped up to the sickbed and began to look in earnest. The scarring from the dragon’s talon was a purple and whitish stripe running diagonally down the previously unmarked chest, but what really caught her eye was an area near the base of the scar which seemed distinctly darker. She focused on the spot with the magnifying glass and noted that the odd coloration was caused by a number of tendril-like blue veins that were apparently fanning out from that point.

Selecting a pinkish crystal from her collection, the witch held it over the region and chanted quietly for a few seconds. Spike watched as the crystal glowed pink then went fiery red and finally black at its core. As Willow took it away from the body it returned to its original powder pink color.

“Can you roll him now so I can see his back please?”

Spike returned the straps to their stays and as he secured the two across his Sire’s chin and temple, he saw the tears start again.

“’S alright pet, Willow’s the best there is, we all know that – she’ll have you right as rain an’ off this thing in a jiffy.”

Spike rotated the bed again but this time removing all the straps, then stood near Angel’s head stroking the soft hair and noting the tears still splashing onto the floor below the bed.

Willow ran her hand gently down the spinal cord noting a definite misalignment in at least two places.

She looked over at Spike with undisguised distress mixed with a measure of hope, “Crystal confirmed it, the dragon talon was carrying a poison not too dissimilar to a blue ringed octopus. It spreads from a localized area and attacks the central nervous system. I don’t understand how, but here it seems to have stayed festering in the wound so Angel’s body can’t get rid of it and recover. It just keeps pushing more toxin into his system.”

“I’m fairly sure we can fix this, but… we’re going to have to open the wound up again and not just once but several times over a series of days so it can be treated direct with the antidote.” Willow’s voice dropped almost to a whisper, “And Spike….we can’t use an anesthetic.” The blonde simply nodded with a look of pained resignation and continued to pet his Sire’s hair.


“I think to speed the back recovery and make sure it aligns properly, we’d be best to get him onto a traction bed for at least some of the time. I guess you can get hold of one but it might be best to have a demon doctor to set it up properly. Do you know any here or do you want me to contact the coven?”

Spike continued to look down at his Sire and said simply “Coven.”

Willow brightened, “Right, well I need some supplies – couldn’t bring half the stuff I wanted with me – bit hard to explain to the customs officials why you have toad eyes and bat bits in your bag.”

“Nearest magic shop is near the university, s’not too far. Best one around is in Chinatown. ‘pparently both will still be open.”

“Well sounds like I’m going out for a while then.”

He listened to the girl bustle around readying to depart. Taxi was ordered, money found, different pair of shoes put on and makeup reapplied. In no time she was at the sickroom door again.

“Um, can I get you anything while I’m out?”

“Pack of fags would hit the spot if you would, luv.”

“Back soon.”

“Hey Pet?” Willow stopped mid stride.

“Thanks.”

He heard “You’re very welcome” as his favorite redhead smiled sweetly and departed.


---------- Part 5 --------

When Willow returned an hour or so later she knocked three times before being greeted at the door by an all but naked and dripping Spike. She worried that he was also too thin, not quite to the famine thin level of Angel, but it made the witch contemplate the enormous inner strength of Spike, as there had been very obvious personal costs to the many months of running with an invalid. She noted that heroin thin on the vampire seemed to have pulled his skin tighter and defined the underlying musculature, still beautiful despite obvious needs. Sadly Willow knew things were going to get worse before she could lead both ensouled vamps back to full health.

Spike began to look exasperated as the witch stood pondering and staring instead of entering the apartment, “Well come in you daft bint! Never seen a bloke in ‘is altogether before? What! That wolf of yours keep the light low or some’t?” He huffed, turned and stomped back to the bathroom.

Willow giggled at the reason he was not quite ‘starkers’ (as the vamp himself might put it). Spike had obviously made an effort to cover up as he jumped from the bath but for some reason hadn’t used a towel, instead he had the legs of his jeans fashioned in an upside down arrangement to create a makeshift apron. The effect however, though obviously camouflaging said ‘bits’ from the front, took no account of the rear view.

Willow entered the apartment shopping in hand and grin firmly in place. Kicking the door shut with her foot, she wandered through to deposit her purchases in the kitchen, mood sobering as she passed by the bathroom.

“C’mon pet just let me do it.” There was an obviously pained reply but too quiet for Willow to catch the words.

“C’mon Sire please, please! It’s just your front, we did this when you were well, remember? Nothin’ to it… There you go, see? We’ll make it feel right… here…”

Willow stood by the door wishing she could enter and somehow help, but knew it would not be welcome.

“Can’t… even… oh guhh… Spike!… arghhh! Please!... can’t even… it hurts Spike… it hurts… Oh sh@#!”

There was a pause in the pleas, followed by a low purr interspersed by “Shh, Shhh… I’ve got you Sire… I’ve got you… c’mon we’re all done… Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”

Willow heard a heavy sigh and a second purr resonating with the first, then “Love you… my darling boy… love you”, the voice trailing off to be replaced again by the second purr. Such deep affection and care between the two in the bathroom proved too much. The seriousness of the situation and her own level of responsibility for fixing it came crashing down, and Willow found herself slapping her hand over her own mouth to hold in the cry of anguish. Tears flowed freely as she sprinted to her own room, dived onto the bed and curled up around a pillow. Burying her face in the softness, she proceeded to rock and cry herself to a point of control.

Spike had added more hot water to the bath and continued his ministrations even after his Sire had apparently fallen asleep, cradled to his chest. Somehow the rhythmic swish of the water laden warm sponge over the pale skin, and the gentle stroking and caressing of his Sire’s torso and groin, had a familiarity that allowed the blonde to momentarily forget their dire situation.

Eventually however, he had to move. Easing himself from behind his Sire, he let the older vampire rest in the water for a time, and thanks to a lack of breathing, was unworried by the thought that Angel’s face might accidentally submerge. He retrieved the warm towels from the drier in the laundry alcove and made an H shaped ‘bed’ on the floor beside the bath. He then pulled the plug, lifted his charge with extreme care and wrapped him in the fluffy white towels.

Angel woke as he was placed on the cushioned floor, immediately tense but relaxing again as loving hands wrapped him proficiently and lifted him into a safely cradled hold against a beloved chest.

“C’mon pet, let’s you and me just… let’s us get t’ bed.” With that Spike kissed the dark vampire’s temple and carried his charge to the large double bed. He knew that the spinal bed would have been better therapy-wise, but also that a traction bed and far, far worse torture was coming in the morning, and had decided that they needed one more night just to cuddle and ‘be’ before the healing hurt began.

------

Willow woke mid morning and began to prepare the dragon antidote. The process was repetitive, tedious and, as it turned out, *extraordinarily* frustrating as batch after batch of the same intricate combination of chopped, grated, squeezed or extracted ingredients had to be pounded to mush with mortar and pestle, boiled with a measure of pure water, reduced, distilled and finally dripped slowly into a chilled vial ready for use.

By late afternoon a loud banging on the front door signaled the delivery of the traction bed. Willow – oven mitts in hand, directed delivery into the study, and supervised the positioning of the same, central to all other furniture. She was leaning back on a wall near the door to the room staring at the bed she knew would provide both relief and torture, when a quiet, strongly accented and deeply melodious, female voice startled her!

“Sorry de’ door it was open. Ahhh, dere was a call for a consultant from Everto Medicus Services. Am I in de right-place?”

“Oh… Oh.. yes!... Um sorry!” Willow threw down her mittens and turned to smile at a extraordinarily tall, extremely attractive and very, very dark individual.

“Good eve’nin m’am, I am F’Iaid. I am believe dat one William Aurelius ring our serviss an’ requested particular a’ssistance. You mus’ be da wiccan who is to do da healin’.”

Willow was captivated not only by the voice, but also by the extraordinary appearance of the woman – despite the western clothes, her statuesque build and deep chocolate features were consistent with a resident of Somalia or lower Ethiopia, but her eyes were even more striking.
The bright emerald green orbs glowed and seemed to communicate their own language to the observer. Though the woman before her appeared somewhere in her mid thirties, her eyes spoke clearly of an extreme age, and of hard won wisdom and deep compassion for those in need. Willow was instantly humbled and tipped her chin in a sign of respect.

“My Lady”

“No need for ceremony, I see dat you too have power, it will be needed from what I have been told. Do we need to wake William?”

“Oh umm yes, yes of course!” Willow moved toward the door but F’Iaid stopped her.

“Madam, I need to know da progress of de injury, and what is de process so far for da healin’. What is it you want to do? I need to adjust de bed for you friend’s unique-needs.”

Willow knocked lightly on the door of the master bedroom and not long after, a rather disheveled Spike emerged, obviously thrown by the early hour and the company.

“Hey Spike”

The overly chirpy nature of Willow’s greeting signaled the start of something Spike wished he could deny. Willow had been honest, and he knew… But…

“Chap can’t even have an afternoon kip these days without someone interruptin’! Who’s the Ebony princess?”

“Ummm oh yeah – Spike this is F’Iaid – she needs to talk to you about your time since the dragon – you know… how you guys escaped, how Angel’s condition has been – anything really…”

Thirty five minutes later, Willow returned from the last phases of her potion making to observe F’Iaid and Spike sitting cross legged on the floor, F’Iaid holding both Spike’s hands and speaking in low tones. They both looked up as she entered and the lady doctor gave her a welcoming smile.

“It is definitely not as bad as I feared. Angel is old and will be strong.” She squeezed Spike’s hands reassuringly then released him and stood up.

“Dere will be much pain and perhaps some fever, but you are very strong Willow, and mistress of your craft, so use it. I will put Master Angelus on traction but you know dat dis is jus’ to decompress he’s spine, dere are many oder effects of de dragon poison dat you are tryin’ to address. Call me if you wish advice.” With that F’Iaid turned and moved to the sickroom door. Spike moved swiftly, retrieving the still sleeping form of his Sire, whispering reassuringly in his ear until the older man was awake, then placing him gently on the newly provided bed.

Having just awoken and now staring at an unfamiliar face on a strangely clinical smelling bed Angel panicked. It took all Spike’s strength to extract himself from the tight grip and grasp both the shaking hands in one of his, stroke the now sweating forehead, and murmur calming words of affection as though to a skittish race horse.

“Spike? Please Spike… what’s…? Who is…? Oh Spike… don’t let go… don’t let go”

“I’m here Sire… You know I’m here… can you feel my hand? That’s it pet give it a bit of a squeeze… there you go! Now hold tight. This is F’Iaid, she’s one of the best quack’s in the business and just gonna get you in the right possie before we start on the real stuff yeah?’

There was a nod, then the older vampire closed his eyes preparing for the worst. Spike could smell the fear. In previous times he would have relished such a scent, now it was abhorrent. He held on tight just as he’d promised and watched while the demon doctor fastened Angel to the traction bed, bracing him below the injured vertebrae and at the neck and working until there was enough tension to relieve the pressure between the crushed vertebrae, at the same time immobilizing the area.

Despite the initial cry of pain and additional whimpers as various items touched or stretched areas of hurt, Spike was relieved to see his Sire in no more discomfort than before. He had been so intent upon his charge that he failed to notice the completion of the activity.

The doctor was already half way out of the room when Spike’s simple and heartfelt “Thank You” elicited a broad smile and dazzling flash of green eyes along with the ‘you’re welcome’.

As the doctor departed, Willow entered the room carrying a large bowl filled with ice that had seven vials of antidote embedded like some fancy children’s ice-cream treat at a sports game.

She placed them carefully on the side table then went back for three bags of warmed blood.

Walking in with the blood, she looked at the vampire, “Are you awake Angel?”

The dark vampire was unable to turn to look so instead said simply “Yes, what do you need?” whilst staring at the ceiling.

“W
ell sweetie… it’s time to start and you sort of know what we need to do, and well, Spike wants to be the one to do it. Honey you know we have to open the wound again?”

“Mmm hmm”

“And you know it’s going to hurt yeah?”

This time Angel gave a resigned, “Yeah.” Willow carefully put the blood alongside the bowl of antidote on a side table and turned, patting Spike on the shoulder as he went to continue the vigil beside his injured partner.

Spike moved in close again and purred, “So what I’ve proposed luv is that we make this pain as close to good as I can get it for yah OK mate?” With that his face changed and Willow exited the room.

----------#6--------

“First you’re going to have to feed Sire.” Angel was about to protest when he saw from the corner of his eye that Spike had taken the warmed blood and finished all three packs quickly. Then, game face still in place, he opened his wrist wide with a savage bite, this time deep enough to hit the artery as well as slice through veins. He kept his mouth on the wound and moved over Angel. Staring down with golden eyes, he patted Angel’s cheek with his free hand until the vampire sighed and finally opened his mouth.

As Angel began to feed, Spike caressed and stroked the invalid through the white sheet that had been flung across his body for modesty sake in front of the others. As the feeding continued he pushed the cotton barrier away and ministered to pale flesh directly. He tickled around the nipples until they were hard nubs, then stroked down, circled and teasingly pushed into Angel’s extremely sensitive belly button. Access to his Sire’s neck was impeded so he licked, sucked and then bit just over the closest nipple as his hand continued to caress. Spike was hard from the feel of blood being pulled from his system but ignored his own needs for now.

He touched his Sire’s erect member and began repetitive feather light, and near frustrating, strokes from balls to now leaking tip. Starting to feel light headed with blood loss, the blonde was relieved as his Sire released the suction and licked the limb until the wound ceased bleeding.

“Gahhh, Spiiike…..”

With his Sire riding on the euphoria of feeding and the dual feeling of arousal, Spike knew he had to act quickly. He leaned up – never stopping the established pulsing of his hand over his Sire’s erection – and kissed him deeply, at once tasting his own blood mixed with his Sire’s flavour, whilst conveying his adoration in no uncertain terms.

He increased his ministrations and began to lave the length of the talon wound, occasionally rubbing his ridges over the older vampire’s skin and nicking the belly with razor sharp teeth. As he heard his Sire begin to pant, he increased the pace and the pressure, pinched a nipple with his free hand, and heard the groan as Angel’s climax began, at that he sunk his teeth three times deep and hard into the dark point of the still raw scar. Angel yelled his completion then screamed in agony as Spike poured one vial of the antidote after another into the open wound.

After the fourth vial, his Sire thankfully passed out.

As the seventh was poured into the open gash and bubbled its way to cleansing the vile poison within, Spike let the first tears fall.

Willow had entered the room at the first of Angel’s tortured cries and saw Spike’s distress build. Moving in behind the blonde, she spooned his back to her and hugged tight, raising her hand to stroke silky strands now damp from the exertion and stress of the evening. Feeling the warm embrace, Spike could no longer hold in his anguish, and in a strange move, twisted inside the hug and pulled them both down until they knelt rocking in distress, his head on Willow’s warm shoulder, the young witch patting and caressing the sobbing vampire.

“Shhhh honey, you did great… you did great… C’mon, we need to be strong okay? Another four of those to go and he will start to heal and so can you…” She continued to rock and rub his back until the blonde calmed.

“So what now Red? You said it would get worse?”

Willow released her hold on the blonde and gently traced the fine cheekbones and stroked the face as one might a distressed younger brother.

“Yeah sweetie, it will get worse. But we’ll both be here OK. You’re not alone, and I’ll probably piss you off and get in your way and need you to give me a hug now and then but we’ll get through OK?” She stood and turned to leave.

“So how long before …”

“You have to re-administer? Um, I think two to three days, we kind of have to wait for this lot to really take effect. I’ll start doing a new batch late tomorrow anyways.” Willow left for the kitchen to check her supplies.

Spike slumped again. Patience had never been a particular strength of his, but waiting for the next ‘bad thing’ that might transpire with the curing of his Sire was pure torture. He did not have to worry for long.

Angel returned to consciousness with a strangled scream, then a snarl as his demon reacted to the pain. Willow hearing the cry had dropped all she was doing and returned. Spike was on his feet immediately stroking his Sire’s forehead while Willow stopped at the door, then ran for a towel and cool bowl of water, and more blood for Spike.

Angel’s demon features were to the fore and twisted in agony, bloodied tears streaming down either side of the restrained head and no recognition of his surroundings in the panicked golden eyes. He began to cry out repeatedly for William.

“Sire… Sire… It’s me, it’s your Childe…. Sire! It’s William… I’m here, it’s William, your boy… your favorite, I’m here…” But there was no recognition, and beads of sweat began to appear on the almost grey white forehead as the older vampire began to shiver uncontrollably. His game face fell away as the fever took hold, Spike grabbing his hand and squeezed to the point of breaking as a way of grounding them both.

Angel was floating in a sea of pain, unable to fight it past the horrors that had begun to envelop his fever stricken mind… Hell, he was in hell again, unspeakable acts, immeasurable pain, over and over and over… He saw himself torturing William, whipping him, demeaning him in front of others, buggering him, then he saw a beautiful love scene, with himself and his beautiful boy… worshipping each other in ways others could only imagine, adoring him, adoring him… until he saw his fangs sink into the receptive flesh and drain him, and then there was …. dust!

Spike felt his last two fingers break as the grip from his elder tightened through the latest onslaught, but in a way that helped. The constant whimpering, begging and hoarse howling from the bed, had the ache of fear in Spike’s chest well beyond its own fever pitch.

“Oh Goddess, Spike sweetie, look at me, come on honey, just focus on me for a minute.”

Spike heard the red head but was trapped by the scent of fear and pain, and wave after wave of agony and torment coming through the blood link from his Sire.

Willow pulled Spike’s face toward her and saw the glazed look in the crystal blue eyes. “Solamen!” Spike’s eyes cleared for a moment then tears began anew.

“Oh Red… Oh it’s hurting him *so much* Oh g…..” Spike was still firmly within the grasp of his shivering Sire, but buried himself into the warm, consoling embrace of the witch once more.

Despite the support at that moment, it could not last. And for Spike, the ensuing twenty four hours included transferred vague images of the deaths of Fred, Drusilla, Penn, Doyle, Cordelia, Wes, Gunn, Darla, and… himself …. The last laced with such hurt that Spike could do little but sob into Willow’s shoulder as she returned to the room to hug and pet the distraught male.

Much later and further into the fever, imagined images of Spike, Willow, Buffy and Connor dying at his hand plagued the dark vampire. Alternating between game face and soft features, Angel cried out and frequently succumbed to a sobbed appeal for clemency until he was hoarse, and there were no more tears to shed by the time he fell quietly unconscious again. Spike kept his vigil.

The blonde had eventually fallen asleep with exhaustion on the floor beside his Sire’s bed sometime early on the second morning, registering the change as his hand was released and thumped to the floor.

He stood to check the patient. What he saw was every carer’s dream… the untroubled features of a loved one in repose. Angel looked, in that moment, as if he had simply lived twenty years of a blessed and privileged life…

Willow was standing in the doorway, mortar and pestle in hand… “Oh…. Thank the goddess!!”

Spike turned to leave, registered that he was ‘seeing stars’ then hit the floor in a dead faint.


-------------Ch 7-----------

Spike came to, head cradled on Willow’s warm lap and the witch’s gentle hand stroking his forehead rhythmically.

A soft female voice said, “Hey there sweetie…” while the hand continued to pet his temple.

After a few minutes of simply lying contemplating his position, Spike tried to sit up but was held down by a firm hand.

“No, no, don’t do that yet… Drink this first honey… then we’ll think about you getting up.”

Spike felt a warm wrist pressed against his lips. He looked up at the witch in stunned amazement.

“I think you’ll find essence de wiccan is pretty potent stuff so…. and anyways the blood order won’t come for an hour or two, if it is like the other day. I figure if you just have a little then no harm done and you can help Angel if he wakes before I finish off the next batch.”

The stroking hand and proffered wrist were too much and two tears trickled from either corner of crystal blue eyes. Spike nodded his thanks, took the wrist reverently in both hands, looking at the witch with deep gratitude as he let his fangs drop.

Spike laved the area first, never breaking contact with Willow’s emerald stare, then slid his incisors into the offered flesh. His eyes rolled back as he felt the blood laced with the magick and power of a senior witch flow into him.

He pulled off after three long drafts. Nowhere near what he needed to recover on a normal basis but so infused with ancient energy that he felt like he could fly.

Dazed blue eyes now stared up in adoration at the wiccan as he released his mouth, laving and healing the wound.

“Oh god…ess…. Willow….” Azure eyes fixed on her with wonder, “Thank you, thank you…”

Spike fell back into a light and untroubled slumber.

He jolted awake some ten minutes later, feeling refreshed and rested in a way that had not occurred for many months. Sitting up abruptly, he planted a platonic, but no less loving, chaste kiss on his ‘lady’s’ lips, then stood to attend his Sire. Willow smiled and retreated to complete yet another ‘batch’ of the serum.

The blood order arrived just as Spike began to feel his Sire’s consciousness returning through the link. He answered the door and promptly downed two of the bags straight from the box.

Game face to the fore, he heard a hoarse cry for “Will?... Will!... Spike where are you?” coming from the sick room.

He was at Angel’s side momentarily and relieved to see the instant recognition in beloved brown orbs.

“Oh Sire!” Unable to move his elder due to the traction bed, he satisfied himself with leaning over and baring his neck, petting the much loved torso and waiting. Angel recognized his Childe’s scent and submission, and bit down to drink long and slow. He felt Spike’s hand move to assist his arousal at the feeding and waited as gentle bliss took hold, then he released a tiny amount of cool seed but twice onto his torso… He slumped back, satisfied yet aware that his normal climax was somewhat subdued at the moment.

Releasing his bite and falling back into his normal face, Angel stared into his child’s beautiful eyes.

“How long have I been asleep?”

“Nearly two days, Sire.”

“Oh”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had the strangest dreams. Are you real…. I mean, are you real now?”

“Yes Sire, Oh hell yes, I *am* real.” As if to prove a point Spike pulled down again and hugged his elder, then released him.

“Wait here for a sec. I’ll be right back.”

Spike raced to the kitchen, a spring in his step, and began rummaging in the fridge for more blood. He pushed three bags of AB pos into the microwave, and turned to take stock of the proceedings at the stove. His face fell. Another four vials rested in the test tube holder and a pot bubbled away, readying the next batch. Willow looked up from her stirring appearing drawn and tired.

“Oh Willow, can we just have a night to rest? Just one night?”

“Um I guess so sweetie. Is he awake now?”

“Yeah”

“I’ll come and help, a few hours out of traction is not going to hurt too much, I don’t think. Just hang on I’ll ring F’Iaid and check, OK?”

Willow handed the vampire her wooden stirring spoon and speed dialed her mobile.

“Hi F’Iaid? Hey. It’s Willow Rosenberg – you know William and Angelus…. Oh … yeah of course. Me too.”

Spike watched as the witch blushed deeply and scented… arousal?! And then grinned *Good lord! The witch really is suffragette material!* That dark doctor bint was bloody gorgeous, so why not!

“I was wondering if it’s OK if we take Angel out of the traction brace for a while?” Spike could not hear the other side of the conversation.

“Yup….. Ah huh…. Yes definitely….. Tomorrow… Oh Goddess…. Yes… Yes!… It was pretty hard the first round. Oh Goddess yes!”

Spike’s felt a cold chill as Willow cast a sympathetic and sad look in his direction after the last statement. In that moment the dread was shared. There were four treatments to go.

Willow hung up, then turned to face her vampire friend. She couldn’t help but note the return of the strained countenance and distinctly crestfallen look.

“Oh Sweetie. We both knew there was more to come, but already we’re on the way, aren’t we? We’re on the way to getting better??” She smiled in an effort to cheer the blonde. “Why don’t you both have a bath and a lovely sleep in the big bed, okay? I’ll be your waitress for the night” Willow flicked her hair and did her best to look like a saucy, pub barmaid. Failing dismally at the charade she was pleased to see her tense friend smile and relax just a little.

“You just don’t have the ‘front’ for that sort of caper luv.” Spike winked and headed back to the sickroom, warm blood bags in hand and with the intent to release his Sire. He downed the bags as he walked to the room, discarding the ‘empties’ in the small waste paper basket by the door.

Spike smiled as he entered the room, though he knew Angel could smell the anguished feelings of the previous ‘treatments’ conversation with Willow. He walked to the head of the bed and released the tension on the traction device. Angel arched then relaxed as he did so.

“Oh G…. Spike!”

The younger vampire caught his partner as the brace released, he cradled the beloved head to his chest and lifted the wasted figure into a tight embrace, whispering into his hair, “Let’s you and I have a bath shall we?”

He sat on the edge of the large tub watching the water run and cuddling the older vampire to his chest, rocking a little and enjoying the feel of the brunette purring with quiet relief. Eventually he lowered them both into the hot water and supported his crippled partner between his knees. He noted the raw marks where the brace had chafed as fevered thrashing had seen the agonized body work against the restraints. He winced as he gently brushed over the savage slashes that were the reopened dragon marks, though thankfully could see the beginnings of some healing with a slight lessening in the purple of the scarring. Perhaps it was worth the pain. Spike’s hand paused in his ministrations as he pondered the agony still to come. He pushed the thought away and spent the remaining time it took for the water to start to chill, to pet and stroke and minister to his beloved.

He left the bath first, lay the usual towels on the ground, lifted his Sire out and wrapped him lovingly then carried him to the large bed, where they both settled naked under the covers with dual sighs of relief.

Willow continued her brewing while Spike tended to his charge, though upon hearing the two males quietly retreating to the bedroom, heated two mugs of blood and brewed a pot of tea. She set the hot items on a tray of tea cups along with petit fours, sliced lemon, milk and sugar. Then proceeded to do as promised and serve the gents their supper in bed. She set the tray down on a side table and sat on Spike’s side of the large bed watching transfixed as Spike drank both mugs of blood, opened his wrist and fed his Sire.

Shaking herself from her stare, she began to pour the tea then giggled at the bizarre picture they made. A powerful wiccan with her hair trussed up out of the way by two strategically placed chopsticks, wearing an old Tshirt and pink overalls with orange fuzzy pockets and pouring tea for two vampires, one of whom was currently feeding, and the other trying to hide the effects of the feeding by a strategically placed long cushion over the tenting bedcovers with the excuse that ‘the tea could be hot, so…”

Angel eventually released the wrist and lay back on the pillow, a little dazed as was always the case after feeding from his Childe. Willow handed Spike his tea along with Angel’s and proffered the tray with the tray of ‘extras’, then watched the blonde take up the little milk carton.

“I thought for sure you would be a lemon man?”

“Strictly milk and sugar luv. Lad can never have enough sweetness in ‘is life...” Willow would have sworn she saw Spike look a little embarrassed after he added the last bit apparently automatically. But felt a tug of sympathy for a lost son as he looked up at her, then gave a rather sad smile, “Least that’s what mother insisted.”

He added the milk and sugar to his own, then Angel’s and took two tiny biscuits for himself, but left both cups on the plate as he rolled the other way. He then proceeded to push two extra pillows behind his Sire, then lifted him onto them, allowing just enough angle to drink from a cup.

Angel sighed back into the softness and took the teacup in slightly shaky hands. He turned and gave Willow a weak but no less genuine smile accompanied by, “Thank you.”

The three sat and talked amicably about nothing for a time… the view, the apartment, the watcher’s academy, Willow’s lack of partner (which had Spike suggesting a certain doctor at which Willow blushed profusely). Angel had only occasionally contributed, but all three gave in to the veneer of contented conversation, until the inevitable chill fell as Willow brought up their reason for being together.

“I talked to F’Iaid. She thinks it’s wise to continue with another treatment tonight… are you OK with that?” Willow looked from Angel to Spike. The blonde felt his stomach tighten with dread, realizing there would only be a few hours of this relief before… he turned his head toward his Sire, closed his eyes and let silent tears drop onto the pillow.

Angel lifted his hand to caress his beautiful Childe’s face. “It’s fine Willow. We have to do it so…” Willow nodded, then took the remains of ‘high tea’ and let the two have some private time. As soon as she departed, Spike curled up to his elder and simply stayed there in silence. He began caressing the torso, then stroking his sex to arousal, and finally brought his Sire and then himself to gentle relief. He carefully caught both climaxes in one of the discarded fluffy towels he had left beside the bed. He flicked off the light and they fell asleep, Spike holding his partner close.


------------ Part 8 ----------------

All too soon, Willow was stroking Spike’s forehead and coaxing him to consciousness. F’Iaid was standing at the doorway ready to assist.

“What’s your dark princess bloody doin’ here?” Spike’s words brought a blush to Willow’s face, but she shifted to ‘business’ mode quickly to cover her very real attraction to the ebony beauty watching them.

“She’s here to help with the traction bed, and also to assist with the next treatment.”

At the last statement, Spike immediately went into game face, sat up to shield his Sire from the dark woman’s gaze and growled. “She’s not bloody coming *near* Sire in anytime! No F#$ing way! Don’t care who she is… Queen of bloody Sheeba, she doesn’t come near! Not while he’s feverin’!…You hear me Red?!!... *I* help Sire, it’s mine to do… No one else!” The game face melted away and the posturing ceased as Spike shrank back with tear-filled blue eyes, and in every passing second thereafter, resembled the thousands of other carers of critically ill family members worldwide… all desperate to do whatever was needed to see their loved ones healed, clinging to slivers of hope, and defiant to the last, foregoing their own needs regardless of extreme circumstances.

“It’s OK Spike…. It’s OK!! F’Iaid will only come in if needed, and otherwise she is going to help me with the antidote, you know, so we can do this more quickly…. Spike, *please* honey!… This is going to be hard enough as it is, without you going all ‘Grrrr’!”

Spike looked at the ceiling, closed his eyes and shed a blood tinged tear of sheer frustration with the ‘whole damned business’, then stormed off the bed to the sanctuary of the en suite, slamming the door hard as he sought privacy for a few minutes in order to regain his composure.

Willow and F’Iaid exchanged a patient look and retreated to the kitchen to chill that night’s antidote ready for use. Then they heated the blood Spike was going to need so desperately if he was to get through the next few hours relatively unscathed.

Willow looked across shyly at her fellow wiccan, who had begun to seek the ingredients in cupboards for batch number three, “Thank you for staying.”

“You are mos’ welcome esteemed mistress.” Said the elegant medico.

“Ooh I am not so esteemed! You are much wiser and stronger than me… and older? You *must be*. I can feel you and your aura is … gold!”

“As is yours to me, Willow. We are kindred spirits.” F’Iaid’s voice dropped to a whisper, “After all dis, let me show you why…” She smiled, the brilliant white teeth and green eyes contrasting the rich black of her skin. Willow took on the appearance of a deer caught in headlights, then smiled back.

Spike chose that moment to appear at the end of the kitchen bench, towel firmly tied around himself and thankfully more the blue eyed Childe than the demon of the previous argument. “So what’s the plan?”

“More of the same sweetie…” Willow dropped her gaze to the floor and her tone along with it… “Are you OK with that?... ‘Cause you know we can…”

“*No*!!! *I’m doin’ it.*Saved* the bloody world at least twice, and I *can* do this!”

His eyes flashed yellow again “It’s family witch! It’s me and me Sire, and it’s family! So let’s get started.” Spike spun around and returned to the bedroom to collect Angel.

The older vampire was awake when Spike entered. “Hey pet you’re up.” The trademark smirk and eyebrow wiggle had Angel lifting his head to note that, if he hadn’t quite managed a morning erection when Spike entered, he certainly had one now!

“When we get over all this, I swear….!”

Spike dropped onto the bed and gave his Sire a long, passion filled, and exuberant kiss. As he pulled away Angel looked a little puzzled.

“You said *when* pet…. You said *when*…” Spike fixed the older vampire’s chocolate stare with a blue one, filled with such adoration and love that Angel reached a weakened arm up and pulled him into a close hug, whispering, “For you Spike, all because I love you… Not gonna leave you, never again…”

They held the hug for several seconds until Spike pulled away with a loud sniff and a simple, “Right, let’s start gettin’ to that ‘when’, shall we?”

Spike slid his hands under his Sire’s hips and shoulders, and gently lifted the invalid. Cradling Angel to his chest, he felt the tension rise as they approached the ‘sickroom’, so whispered to him, “Just imagine what we can do on that mahogany desk when you’re well… promise I’ll be the one leanin’ on it.” Angel lifted his head momentarily and saw the lascivious grin, returned it with a slight smile and, more importantly, relaxed a little.

Willow had delivered the blood and medicine to the room already. F’Iaid dutifully hooked up the paralyzed body to the traction as Spike drank his fill, then she withdrew. After that, Spike was left to repeat the process of three days ago.

He paused.

“Just do it Spike… please… just… no precursors this time, just bite and do it!” The desperation in Angel’s voice, such a contrast to the previous relaxed hours, almost undid the blonde.

He took an unnecessary breath and opened his wrist for his Sire. As the older vampire began to drink, he plunged forward biting hard and deep into the dragon wound, then swiftly poured in the anti-venom. Angel had pulled off the feeding immediately. Spike, agonized by the pain through the link and the sight of the tortured loved one in front of him, ignored the screams of his Sire, and continued to wash the wound with the pain inducing liquid until every vial was empty.

As his Sire retreated from pain into unconsciousness with the last vial, Spike’s legs gave out. He curled up on the floor in a fetal position, sobbing and rocking himself a little. Willow found him an hour later, still on the ground, all cried out but continuing to chant a desperate mantra… “Three to go, three more to go. Oh God in heaven, let it work. Please! Three to go, just three more to go.”

Forty eight hours passed much as before. Spike rallied and tended to his Sire. Four hours respite as Angel regained his lucidity, a bath and a short nap, then the whole thing was repeated. F’Iaid stayed, Willow appreciated, Spike… survived.

The third time. They removed the still unconscious patient from the bed and bathed him, but returned him directly to the sick room to ready him for another ‘round’. Spike kissed his Sire sadly and bit the torso yet again. They rode out almost fifty hours of hallucinations, screams and desperate crying… more often than not, Spike joining his Sire in the tears.

The forth time. Angel had a sponge bath, remained unconscious and was not even moved. Eventually he woke to see the Childe he was feeding from appearing almost wraith-like with black rings around desperate eyes. Smiling as best he could to the begging blue orbs observing him, he muttered his ‘Thanks’, then gave in to the blackness as yet another treatment began.

Willow and F’Iaid determined that the recovery time was stretching longer and longer, so applied the final treatment to Angel even though he had not regained full consciousness after number four. Spike did his part by biting as he had done so many times before, but then curled onto the floor, chin on his knees and withdrew to one of the dark recesses of the room sobbing, “I can’t… I can’t … please don’t make me… Oh Guuhhh… I can’t… Sire I’ve failed you… Oh Sire… Sire.”

Willow administered the antidote, realizing as Angel arched in agony with each successive vial, just what Spike had endured for the last two weeks. She and F’Iaid tag teamed with Spike through the final round of fever, but the final twelve hours were exclusively the blonde’s.

He had held Angel in a tight embrace for the last few hours, growling loudly in full game face when either of the women approached. He held tight, despite the violent dreams and extreme convulsions. Finally his Sire had calmed, and Spike slept awkwardly, perched on the narrow bed as close as he could manage to the older vampire despite the traction harness.

“Pins and Needles.” Spike jolted awake and as a direct result, unfortunately fell off the bed.

Full game face to the fore, he stood up “Bloody Hell!.... What?” Yet he saw the wonder and excitement in Angel’s face, and dropped immediately into human guise.

“Pins and Needles… I’ve got them in my feet… oh… G…. it’s… Oh Spike!... I can feel them! It’s only a tiny…but…”

Spike stood and wandered to the end of the bed in a daze. With tears streaming down his face, he gently cupped the previously inert feet in each hand and gave them a squeeze.

He was rewarded with a tiny movement of toes on each, and yelled for the witches to attend, through tears of sheer joy and relief.



--------- #9---------------------


The following days were filled with joy and frustration. Pins and needles were one thing, but the traction had to remain for another few days according to F’Iaid. Thankfully the patient was released at the end of day four and moved back to the ‘big bed’. Angel still did not have the vampire healing rate of old but he was definitely improving.

Willow rang Giles to give him the good news, then rebooked her flights to remain with ‘her boys’ for another month.

Spike took to drinking three and four bags of blood at a time, then feeding his sire until the whole volume had been siphoned off. Repeating the process over and over until he felt like a ‘milk machine’.

With Angel drinking Childe’s blood almost continually for more than a week, one wonderful Friday afternoon, he pushed himself up to a sitting position unassisted.

“Spike! *Spike*!!” The blonde was at his Sire’s side in an instant. He paused and realized the posture and position. His darling Sire was leaning back on the bed head and had been able to sit up and bend his own knees up, admittedly he did not have the strength to keep them upright and they had fallen open, but it was more than Spike could have possibly hoped for during the last nine months.

“Oh G…. Sire!”

Angel was rewarded for his efforts with a passionate kiss and joyful embrace as Spike called to the witches and celebrated another little recovery with the lovely ladies who were so instrumental in the same.

A day later and Spike had begun the now familiar pattern of feeding his Sire; massaging the spent limbs and torso; manipulating and working the joints; then feeding the older vampire again. The difference, post antidote, was that his Sire did not cry out in pain, and he knew he could *feel* the improvement every time the cycle was repeated. Each day he watched the emaciated frame put on a little more weight, the knees that on the first day were unable to stay upright, by the seventh night were able to weakly grab an arm laid between them.

Some days were still spent in traction but for the most part they were in the ‘big bed. On the twentieth day after the last treatment, Spike awoke to… ‘Please let me stand up today Spike… *please*… I know I can.”

With a smile that spoke his own joy, Spike sat up and faced his Sire.

“Well, it’s just you and me pet, so how’s about we give it a quiet go now.” With that he moved to the other side of the bed and grabbed his partner’s still wasted legs, shoved the elder vampire ninety degrees and helped him to a sitting position with legs dangling over the side of the bed. He knelt down near Angel’s knees and whispered “Lean forward luv and let’s you and me dance shall we?”

Spike leaned forward to hold under his Sire’s arms. Angel closed his eyes and concentrated hard on feet and limbs that were still in the early days of awakening. Leaning forward and with demon to the fore, he allowed Spike to aid the shift to standing, then fell back into human guise as shaky legs, that still did not feel like his own, supported him for almost thirty seconds until he sat back down with a triumphant ‘humph’.

Thrilled, tear filled chocolate eyes met Spike’s own brimming blue gaze. After nine months of anguish, Spike’s reward was the near joyful set of words that defined the moment. “ I did it! Oh G…H! Will, Spike, I stood up!” Beaming as if he had just won an Olympic marathon, the elder vampire pulled his Childe back onto the bed and into a passionate kiss. Spike simply grinned and succumbed to the celebration.

Pulling away momentarily Spike managed a, “Yeah, yeah, ya old ponce!” trying to keep up the image of the ‘big bad’ but failing dismally as he returned to the joyful embrace.

F’Iaid visited daily, though more and more it was to spend time with the other witch rather than to check on Angel or Spike. Both witches had adopted a cautious approach around the pair acutely aware of Spike’s near obsessive protectiveness intensifying with the blood bond as Angel increased his feeding from barely two, to drinking from his Childe five or six times a day. Spike had increased his own blood intake to a point where F’Iaid pushed a large delivery box containing a variety of bags of the red liquid through the front door almost every time she arrived.

When his Sire began to sit up comfortably by himself, Spike had pulled out the long neglected wheelchair and afforded the older vampire a measure of independence. His standing was much stronger and tentative steps were practiced daily with the aid of a hand rail and Spike, but it would still take time to regain full use of his legs and even longer for his vampire speed and stamina to return. Until then the wheelchair helped.

At F’Iaid’s suggestion, Spike had taken to wheeling Angel down to the private indoor pool in the apartment block every day and letting the warmed water provide a weightless environment in which to build his muscles. The first time had been the hardest with Angel reluctant to go out in public and Spike never really having taken to swimming of any description. Both vampires had dressed in the black boxer shorts Willow had bought and covered up with a shirt for the short journey to the pool. Arriving poolside their fears evaporated. There was no one else using the facilities and the pool itself was quite shallow at one end – there was little need to be able to swim so long as one stayed in that end.

After Spike helped his Sire into the surprisingly warm water, the older vampire reveled in the feeling of moving his limbs against the resistance of the water. The sensation of walking across the width of the pool where the depth was chest high was made all the sweeter as Spike and he took to ‘racing’ each other across and back, Spike deliberately staying in the shallower section until familiarity after the first week allowed him to bravely step deeper.

Stripped and in the swimming pool, Spike grinned as he noticed Angel’s muscles had definitely filled out again and smiled at the thought that his own were looking more ‘well fed’. It was coming up for a month after the final treatment and Angel had walked seventeen steps unaided that morning and was able to get himself from the chair into the pool. Stepping out again had proved difficult, but the sense of accomplishment was still there. Sadly Willow would have to leave them soon, but Spike suspected that she might return in the fairly near future for her own reasons.

“Think the witch has the hots for our dark lady doc pet.” Spike was supporting Angel under the arms, hands caressing his partner’s torso and occasionally touching the erection obvious through the wet shorts. The recuperating vampire had his head on Spike’s shoulder and continued to gently kick his legs in a breaststroke action, working his knees and inner thigh.

“Hmm, I’m fairly certain the feeling is mutual, s’ nice.”

“What? This?” Spike repeated the stroke up and down his Sire’s member.

“That too, but I meant it’s nice that those two are enjoying their time. Have you noticed they go out every single day together and always come back smiling.”

“You think Red’s getting some then?”

“Nahh we’d smell it”

“S’pose.” Spike shrugged and began to pay very deliberate attention to the hardness under his hands.

One rather awkward side effect of the frequent feeding had been that both vampires sported almost constant erections and were coupling at least four and five times a day. The activity itself was approved of by the doctor for psychological and physical reasons, but the noise from the pair as they reached ecstasy over and over, drove both witches to a regime of long walks and excursions out of the apartment and beyond earshot. F’Iaid had proven a witty and generous companion as the two women explored the city and discovered their deep friendship.

During one particularly long walk along the shoreline, Willow felt their hands brush against each other, then was thrilled to feel F’Iaid’s slim, elegant hand slide into hers and squeeze.

“I hope you do not mind,” the low, dulcet tones of the dark witch had an element of hope that set Willow’s heart aflutter.

“No, no! Not the minding wiccan here, in fact just the opposite of minding, you could say I’m definitely un-mindy, um…. Oops…. babblefest… sorry.”

F’Iaid laughed aloud at her friend’s little outburst.

“Ah, lady. I do like listenin’ to you when you are flustered.” She squeezed Willow’s hand again and they continued on their walk.

Willow had been fascinated to learn of F’Iaid’s global travels, of her wiccan and medical studies and of her African heritage. She had indeed been borne in the very south of Ethopia. Her father had been a local elder and witch doctor. Both women had giggled at the idea of her ‘following in daddy’s footsteps’, though F’Iaid’s look of old grief crossing her dark countenance as she talked more of her father, silenced Willow’s chortles.

“My father was killed by army soldiers – our country was always wit civil war. My mother has da gift of seein’. She is part T’imj’ikk demon. We left our country after da killin’.” F’Iaid flashed an emerald look in Willow’s direction and gave a sad smiled.

“But what of you, lady?” and so that afternoon and many to follow had proceeded, each woman sharing more and more of themselves, until late on the afternoon three days before Willow’s departure for England, they also shared a kiss.