Darker_Riley

Altered States: Spike/Riley fic completed

Sun, 01 Jun 2008 21:07:41 GMT

Title: Altered States
Author: Trepkos
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Rating: NC17/Adults Only overall
Warnings: see the rating: violence, bad language, sex, vivisection (past - mentioned), torture, almost non-con. However, this is basically a love story: not a fic where either of the main characters wantonly abuses the other.

It starts from the question, what might have happened if Riley's first encounter with Spike had been during his captivity inside The Initiative?

This series has been completely revised as of 28/05/2008.
Series came first in the "Wonder" (unconventional 'ship) and "Thrill Me" (Drama) categories of the Shadows and Dust Fanfiction Awards, as well as winning a Judge's Choice Award.
Also came first in the "Army of Two" category at the Harem of Spike Awards.
Links under the cut - chapter titles may be a little spoilery. All the chapters are linked, so you just need to click on the first one if you don't want to see what's ahead!

Moonstruck I

Summary: What might have happened if Riley's first encounter with Spike had been during his captivity inside The Initiative?

1: First Sight
2: A Friend In Need
3: A Promise is Made
4: Spike’s Brain
5: Full Moon
6: Running Out of Time
7: Waiting for Riley
8: The Waiting is Over

Moonstruck II: Out of the Shadow

Summary: How will our star-crossed lovers find each other again?

9: Try to Remember
10: Crawford Street Blues
11 (i): An Uninvited Guest
11 (ii): An Uninvited Guest (continued)
12: Breaking and Mending

Continuing Series: Iowa Field Notes

Summary: How will Spike and Riley make a future together?

Part 1 Near Miss
Part 2 Lucky Guy
Part 3 Hello Iowa
Part 4 Across the Threshold
Part 5 First Night
Part 6 Settling In
Part 7 Call Me Al
Part 8 Making Hay
Part 9 Looking for a Mission
Part 10 Working for the Man
Part 11 Testing

Reflections

Summary: Spike goes on a mission.

Part 1 Down the Rabbit-hole
Part 2(i) Through the Looking Glass I
Part 2(ii) Through the Looking Glass II
Part 3(i) Sentence first! Verdict afterwards I
Part 3(ii) Sentence first! Verdict afterwards II
Part 4 Where do we go from here?
Part 5(i) On the Road to Los Angeles I
Part 5(ii) On the Road to Los Angeles II
Part 6(i) The Players Assemble I
Part 6(ii) The Players Assemble II
Part 7(i) Reunion I
Part 7(ii) Reunion II
Part 8(i) Things Fall Apart I
Part 8(ii) Things Fall Apart II
Part 9(i) Caritas I
Part 9(ii) Caritas II
Part 10(i) Trials I
Part 10(ii) Trials II
Part 11(i) Promises I
Part 11(ii) Promises II
Part 12(i) Compensations I
Part 12(ii) Compensations II(continued)
Part 13 Leave-taking
Part 14 The Way Home
Part 15 Home
Deleted scenes: not directly involving Spike and Riley:
Cordelia/David Nabbit scenes
A Glimpse of the Future

Fic: Domestic Bliss 30/30

Tue, 27 May 2008 11:43:15 GMT

Domestic Bliss 30/30

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Final word count: approx 69,000
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

( Domestic Bliss 30 - The End )

Fic: Domestic Bliss 29/30

Tue, 13 May 2008 09:49:52 GMT

Domestic Bliss 29/30

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

( Domestic Bliss 29 )

Fic: Domestic Bliss 28/?

Fri, 25 Apr 2008 12:44:09 GMT

Domestic Bliss 28/?

Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

A/N: This isn't the full chapter that I was intending, but I figure that posting this might give me the push I need to finish off the fic. We're nearly there!

( Domestic Bliss 28 )

Fic: Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.

Mon, 31 Mar 2008 14:47:27 GMT

Empty rooms, shuttered and dank.

Pairing: Angel/Riley/Spike
Rating: hard R
Word count: 1,736 words

Summary: He's not tied to this bed, no one is keeping him here, but he knows he won't leave. If they stopped now he'd probably beg them to stay.

For angelswilliam who wanted: Angel/Riley/Spike. This isn't exactly what you asked for, it's a lot more vague, but Riley does still have his issues with biting, and you can pretty much guarantee that Angel's always a big ol' bundle of angst :)

( Riley is useless between them, aching and restless, his skin stretched too tight and too hot except for where they're touching him. )

Fic: Domestic Bliss outtake

Thu, 06 Mar 2008 13:40:15 GMT

Domestic Bliss Outtake
-or-
Riley and Spike have more kitchen!sex

Pairing: Spike/Riley
Rating: NC-17
Wordcount: 2,407

Author's Notes: This is set in the Domestic Bliss universe, but would work perfectly well as a standalone PWP.

Summary: Here, have some gratuitous Spike/Riley porn. Porn which I had to cut from the fic proper because Spike and Riley were trying to ambush my dark and angsty angst fic and warp it into something smutty and fluffy and happy.

Previous parts in the series found here

( Domestic Bliss Outtake )

Fic: Domestic Bliss 27/?

Fri, 25 Jan 2008 18:20:46 GMT

Domestic Bliss 27/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

Domestic Bliss 27/?

Fic: Domestic Bliss 26/?

Tue, 04 Dec 2007 17:40:44 GMT

Domestic Bliss 26/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

Domestic Bliss 26

FIC: Iowa Field Notes: Spike/Riley: NC17 overall

Sun, 18 Nov 2007 11:43:01 GMT

Story has been revised since first posted, and continues from "Moonstruck" and "Out of the Shadow."

Continuing Series: Iowa Field Notes

Summary: How will Spike and Riley make a future together?

Part 1 Near Miss
Part 2 Lucky Guy
Part 3 Hello Iowa
Part 4 Across the Threshold
Part 5 First Night
Part 6 Settling In
Part 7 Call Me Al
Part 8 Making Hay
Part 9 Looking for a Mission
Part 10 Working for the Man
Part 11 Testing

Domestic Bliss 25/?

Wed, 07 Nov 2007 14:30:54 GMT

Domestic Bliss 25/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

Domestic Bliss 25

Domestic Bliss 24/?

Wed, 10 Oct 2007 09:09:50 GMT

Domestic Bliss 24/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Links to all chapters found here

Domestic Bliss 24

FIC: Spike/Riley: "Moonstruck" and "Out of the Shadow": NC17

Mon, 01 Oct 2007 22:39:44 GMT

Moonstruck I

Summary: What might have happened if Riley's first encounter with Spike had been during his captivity inside The Initiative?

1: First Sight
2: A Friend In Need
3: A Promise is Made
4: Spike’s Brain
5: Full Moon
6: Running Out of Time
7: Waiting for Riley
8: The Waiting is Over

Moonstruck II: Out of the Shadow

8: Try to Remember
9: Crawford Street Blues
10 (i): An Uninvited Guest
10 (ii): An Uninvited Guest (continued)
11: Breaking and Mending

Domestic Bliss 23/?

Fri, 31 Aug 2007 13:51:59 GMT

Domestic Bliss 23/?
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

Chapter 23 here

Fic: Domestic Bliss 22/?

Sun, 26 Aug 2007 23:02:06 GMT

Domestic Bliss 22/?
Author: nomelon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Riley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Previous parts found here

Chapter 22 here.

Fic: Domestic Bliss 21/?

Wed, 15 Aug 2007 14:22:30 GMT

Domestic Bliss 21/?

Author: Nomelon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spiley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Domestic Bliss 21

Memories found here

Fic: Domestic Bliss 19+20/?

Sat, 28 Jul 2007 17:13:27 GMT

Domestic Bliss 19+20/?

Author: Nomelon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spiley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Domestic Bliss 19
Domestic Bliss 20

Memories found here

Fic: Domestic Bliss 18/?

Sun, 08 Jul 2007 00:35:24 GMT

Domestic Bliss 18/?

Author: Nomelon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spiley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Domestic Bliss 18

Memories found here

See the pretty man.

Thu, 05 Jul 2007 23:05:37 GMT

Some fabulous pictures made for me by Lady_Meander to go with my Riley/Spike fic Altered States, which is now complete if you somehow managed to miss my going on and on about it!

You really should look under the cut ...

Doing the Chores

Ready to Play

Fic: Domestic Bliss 17/?

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 17:54:58 GMT

Domestic Bliss 17/?

Author: Nomelon
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spiley
Setting: LA. Post NFA
Summary: Riley shows up in LA. Bumps into Spike. Demon-hunting and co-habitation ensue.

Domestic Bliss 17

Memories found here

FIC: Reflections 15: Home: Riley/Spike: R

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 08:05:17 GMT

This is the final chapter.
Thanks for reading.

Pairing: Riley/Spike
Rating: NC17 overall: this part, R
Standard disclaimer: no profit made, no copyright infringement intended.
Thanks for betas:
mistressslash, and shapinglight
Feedback: please, I beg of you ... or at least do the poll, pretty please.
Links to all my fic so far: Altered States
Previous Part Part 14 The Way Home

Home

They drew up to the Farm around ten in the evening, and Riley had just grabbed a couple of their bags from the back seat, when he was nearly knocked off his feet by a silent canine projectile – Jess – as she cannoned into his legs by way of greeting. She didn’t bark, just made whining sounds in her throat and pressed her head against Riley’s thigh, frantically thrashing her tail, cowering a little, but never losing contact with him for one second as they made their way towards the house.

Spike bit his lip. Jealous of a dog – how pathetic was that?

Wasn’t her fault she’d belonged to Riley before he did. Wasn’t her fault she was devoted to him – how could she help it? Wasn’t her fault either, that she was a constant reminder of his fatal failure in his duty of care to his own long-lost cocker, Cecily. Resolving to bite the bullet and make friends with Riley’s dog, Spike reached to pet her head, but she didn’t pay him any mind. Tonight she only had eyes – or nose anyway – for Riley, and when Riley went to fetch Josh out as they’d previously agreed, Jess followed him into the house.

Spike was left waiting alone in the dark, shifting from one foot to the other. He could hear Riley temporarily diverting Sarah from coming outdoors by asking her for some aspirins and a Band-Aid - like he didn’t know where those were kept – and asking “Where’s Dad?”

Spike slapped his arms against himself.

At last, Josh ambled outside, a beer in one hand, and a candle on a saucer in the other. “Hello, stranger. Hear you got yourself into a bit of a scrape -” Josh said with a wry smirk – “needed my boy to haul your ass out of the fire,”

“Yeah, sorry about -”

Josh waved a hand dismissively.

“Do him good. A man needs to keep his hand in.” Josh squinted at Spike. “You look different. Where’s that coat of yours? What’s this all about anyways? Can’t be you want to ask for my son’s hand in marriage, because we did that already. And I know damn well he won’t be wearin’ white.”

Spike was still standing on the ground at the bottom of the porch steps. He shoved his hands in his pockets. “Not exactly, Mr Finn.”

“Well, this better be good – and quick! It’s damn cold out there,” Josh said, looking at him quizzically.

Spike reached up and handed Josh a padded envelope. Josh took it, a bit suspicious, opened it carefully, peered inside, then emptied the contents onto the wooden table. Three crosses, a packet of herbs, some sticks of incense, and a sheet of paper with writing on it. Josh huffed and sat down. “You get turned around? ‘Cos this ain’t Haiti, it’s Iowa. We gave up voodoo around these parts a good ten, maybe fifteen years ago.”

“Keep these things safe,” Spike said seriously. “You might want them when you hear what I have to tell you.”

Josh grunted. “You gone joined a cult?”

“No: nothing like that. But I’ve not been entirely honest with you Mr. Finn, and I’m right sorry for it. Thing is -” and this was gonna be the understatement of the century – “I’m not like most other blokes you might meet.”

“You don’t say!” Josh snorted. “Well, you’re English for a start, but you know what? We’d guessed that already. We didn’t say anything, in case you were embarrassed about it, and we try not to hold it against you.”

This was difficult, and Josh’s good-humoured ribbing was only making it harder to do the deed – tell him something that might alienate both himself and Riley from their comfortable co-existence.

“And I know you’ve been gone a week or two,” Josh went on, “but hope you haven’t forgot my first name. It won’t wear out with use.” He took a swig from the bottle, and held it out to Spike. “And get up here, my throat’s getting hoarse from yellin’ to you.”

Spike sighed, but went up the steps, took a drink from the proffered bottle, and sat down on one of the porch chairs, opposite Josh. He tried again. And this was going to be the last time he’d do it with words.

“Mr F- sorry, Josh. Remember how when we first met, you said I must be older than I look?”

“I do recall that, yeah.” Josh nodded.

“Well, you weren’t wrong. I’m a great deal older than I look. And it’s because – Well, how would you react if I told you there are things: things some people would call supernatural, but that really exist; and that … I’m one of those things?”

“I’d give you a black coffee and tell you not to take any more of those funny sweets from strangers.”

Spike shook his head wearily.

“There’s no easy way to say this so, I’m just gonna demonstrate.”

Light flickered from a candle on a saucer, illuminating the ridges of Spike’s forehead as he let his demon face come slowly to the surface.

Josh blew out a puff of air and muttered, “That’s one hell of a party trick!”

“No trick, Josh. I’m a vampire.”

“Well, I’ll be …” Josh cocked his head contemplatively as he stared at Spike, examining his changed countenance.

Spike tried to look back as unthreateningly as he could.

“So you are. Well ain’t that the darnedest thing.” Slowly, like he was drawing a weapon, Josh took a cigar out of his jacket and lit it from the candle. “I’ve seen your kind before: in ‘Nam. Couple of ‘em – well, of you, I guess - came into camp one night, took two of the boys, dragged ‘em into the jungle. We went after ‘em, but … Found one of ‘em the next day, looked like he’d been drained of blood. We just reckoned it must be some new game Charlie had come up with to mess with our heads. Sure spooked the boys real good.”

“I’m sorry about that,” Spike said warily.

“You got no call to be. It weren’t you.”

“That’s as may be,” Spike said. “But I’m just as dangerous, now, or could be. When I first came here, there was an inhibitor - a microchip in my brain - that stopped me from harming humans. But that’s been removed. So it’s important you know what you’re letting into your home -”

Something wet and cold touched Spike’s hand and he yelped with surprise. He’d been so intent on convincing Josh of the threat he posed to civilization that Jess had managed to silently sneak up on him and was now pressing her nose into his palm in greeting.

“Oh! Hi, Jess.”

Up to now they’d barely acknowledged each other’s existence, so it touched him strangely that she’d missed him after all - if somewhat less than she’d missed Riley – and taken the time to welcome him too, as another errant pack member. He scratched behind her ears, while trying to pick up the thread of what he’d been saying – something about being a danger to society, wasn’t it?

“You should know what I am – what I can do – before you decide whether or not to have me in the house. If you don’t want to take the risk, you can follow the instructions in the envelope, and I won’t be able to enter your home again.”

“So; let me get this straight,” Josh said, hauling himself up higher in his chair as he played the ignorant. “You’ve been living with us for a year and more, and all of a sudden, just because some gizmo’s been taken out your head, you think you might, what? Go Postal and drain us all dry?”

“Somethin’ along those lines, yeah.”

“I’ll thank you not to insult me so, boy.” Josh looked at him sternly. “You think I didn’t decide straight off what manner of man you were, when I first laid eyes on you? Whether you were fit to share our house – share my son’s bed under my roof?”

Spike would have blushed if he could.

“You think I didn’t take into account the risks of inviting a stranger in? Let me tell you something Spike. When I first saw you, you looked like a regular person. Sure, you painted your fingernails, but you were a regular person in my book. So I already knew you were dangerous. People – human beings – they’re the most dangerous creatures you’ll ever meet. You think I’m not dangerous?”

Spike looked at his hard, callused hands, lean frame, and piercing eyes, and didn’t answer.

“You think Sarah isn’t dangerous? Oh, on paper, or when you talk to her, that girl’s a peacenik: unreconstructed. On paper. But I wouldn’t cross her. Put a gun or a knife in her hand and I wouldn’t like to see what became of anyone harmed one of hers.”

Josh gave Spike a hard stare, and Spike nodded slowly.

“You know Rebecca. Don’t even think to try and tell me she’s not dangerous. That girl has the brains to poison us all by slow degrees if she chose. My son Riley: outside the Government, he’s the most dangerous man I know. He don’t flaunt it. He doesn’t need to. You won’t see it comin’ and you’ll never know what took you out.”

“But … I am a vampire – I only have to get my teeth into -”

“And if what I see on the television’s anything like the truth, I only have to get a bitty bit of wood into you. There’s no shortage of wood around here -” Josh gestured casually at the area outside the circle of light on the porch, then let his arm drop to his side, keeping his gaze fixed on Spike. “Fence post, broom handle, wooden spoon -”

There was a flash of movement and Spike looked down to find a fence-post poised a few inches from his chest. Jess whined and Spike deliberately relaxed his death grip on the arms of his chair. He'd had a fair idea what was coming, and been determined to hold his nerve, but still … the old boy had been a mite faster than he'd expected.

"- and I know where the heart is," Josh went on calmly. "You trust me not to use this?" He raised an eyebrow.

"Well actually -"

“You should.” Josh set the end of the post on the ground with an emphatic thump, then he stood up and went to lean it against the porch rail a few feet away, out of easy reach, before resuming his seat.

“Now you tell me something. Before: when you had this … inhibitor. Would that have stopped you payin’ someone to gun us down, or burning the house down around us? Would it have stopped you sowing discontent between my son and me? Or his mother?”

“Well, no. I don’t think so -”

“Would it have stopped you from letting ‘Becca come to harm through negligence, all those times we’ve left you sit with her?”

“I’d never -” Spike blurted.

“That’s my point. And why would you?”

“Well. I wouldn’t. I know I wouldn’t. But since the inhibitor was removed, I’ve done …” Spike scratched the back of his neck as he looked for the right phrase –“questionable things.” He looked at his hands, not meeting Josh’s eyes.

“Questionable things?” Josh’s contempt was palpable. “Who hasn’t? Vietnam was no Teddy Bears Picnic, as I’m sure you recall, even for those of us who were nowhere near Pinkville,” he said. “You done anything I wouldn’t have?”

Spike was silent, considering. How would Josh have behaved, if he’d seen what he’d had seen, and known what he’d known? Would he have turned in his ploughshare and unsheathed his sword? “I don’t know,” he said thoughtfully. “Maybe not.”

“I don’t doubt you have your moments – we all do – but there’s no way on this earth you’ll convince me that you’re gonna suddenly decide to chow down on us when we’ve done you no wrong.” Josh paused for a moment, a thought occurring to him. “What have you been livin’ on, if you don’t mind my asking? I guess it’s true, that vampires need to drink blood? Them’s not just folk tales?”

“No, not folk tales. And I’ve been living on animal blood …” As an after-thought Spike added, “Not from your animals! From the butcher!”

Josh stared at him penetratingly.

“Mostly.”

“And?”

“Riley sometimes …” Spike shifted in his seat. “You know, that’s personal. But since we’re talking about it … how we met. His unit captured me; they were starving me. If he hadn’t done what he did … been good enough to give me some of his blood; I’d have been done for.”

“I see. Yes. He’s kind of man who’d do that.” Josh’s face took on a distracted look – like he was seeing phantoms in the candle flame. “A better kind of man.” He studied Spike some more, and chewed a quick on his thumb. “At least he’s not fading away; I can see that well enough.”

“I’m careful; we’re careful; always will be.”

“Is Riley gonna be like you?” Josh asked bluntly. “In the end? Will he be a vampire?”

“Not by accident, and not because of anything we’ve done up to now. He’d have to be very sure he wanted it. But maybe. Not soon; but maybe. Don’t think I can live without him.” Spike ducked his head. “But if you decide to do that ritual – exclude me from your home - I won’t take it hard. Can’t blame you; not with what you know now. I could still stay on in the cabin – that is, if you were okay with it. But you’d always have your home to retreat to, if anything … If I -”

“Have I ever done anything to offend you?” Josh stabbed his cigar in Spike’s direction. “Treated you unfairly, or made you feel like you weren’t welcome here?”

“No! Never!” Spike was shocked. “You, Sarah, you’ve treated me like … like I belong here. Like family.”

“Well, I’m relieved to hear that. Because it’s what you are.” Josh took a pensive draw on his cigar. “Guess it can’t have been easy on you, us not knowing about your … I don’t know what you call it … condition. If there’s anything you need to be more comfortable here you don’t stand on ceremony, you just tell us straight out. There’s to be no doubt about it - this is your home, come hell or high water, only exception being if you were to do some grievous wrong against another member of the family.” He looked Spike full in the eye. “And I know you won’t do that.”

They both knew the statement carried a warning as well as an endorsement; but then Josh laughed ruefully, breaking the tension and flicking ash onto the boards.

“Besides, have you any idea the hell my life would become if Sarah found out I’d kept one of her kids from her kitchen?”

At hearing himself described as ‘one of her kids’, Spike’s game-face fell away. “That’s exactly why I came to you first,” he said candidly. “I think Sarah’d let me in, whether I was a vampire, a werewolf or the Jolly Green Giant; but it’s your home too. Last thing I want is to cause strife; upset the lady of the house or put her in a quandary.”

Josh took another long draw on his cigar and blew a huge smoke ring. There was no sound for a few moments but the rustling of night creatures under the porch, and the wind in the trees.

Finally Josh said, “Damn! Are you queer English vampires all such drama queens?”

Spike just shrugged. “Probably just me,” he admitted.

“Well, get inside, before I change my mind,” Josh said. “Sarah’s near wore a hole right through that kitchen table.”

~~

Spike hovered in the kitchen doorway. Riley and Sarah were seated at the table in earnest conversation. Did Sarah already know? Had Riley filled her in, or would he have to go through the whole revelation thing again? He was in two minds – go in and face the music or hide in the cabin, pleading the headaches - when he noticed his thermos standing open on the worktop. His eyes widened.

The microwave pinged and Sarah looked up, then straight at him, her expression unreadable. “Just in time,” she said, as though he’d been away for hours rather than weeks. Time seemed to slow down as she took a mug from the microwave, came to the door and offered it to Spike.

Spike stared at it. Blood – at body temperature.

And he’d thought he was so cool.

The regularity of Sarah’s heartbeat showed her unafraid.

That was good, wasn’t it?

It seemed too good to be true. His earlier confidence in Sarah’s acceptance was overtaken by an irrational fear that if he reached for the mug, she would fling the blood in his face, her eyes blazing with hatred and contempt. A lesser fear: that she would flinch away; that he would see a taint of disgust in her eyes, or perhaps mistrust or reproach that he hadn’t told her before. Like a sleepwalker, he put out a tentative hand to take the mug, and as he did, Sarah smiled and touched his arm.

“Good to see you,” she said.

Her expression told him what he’d been longing for; ‘everything you need is here’.

Spike swallowed, nodded briefly, muttered, “You too,” and sat down on a stool at the table. Sarah stood behind him and rested her hands on his shoulders, and he leaned back and closed his eyes for a moment, breathing heavily. He felt a reassuring squeeze.

When he opened his eyes, he was overwhelmed once more. His name had been carved into the wood so many times; Riley’s too. He flicked a private glance at Riley that said ‘have you seen?’ and Riley nodded, unsurprised – this was all as he’d expected - and pointed to a spot near the middle of the table.

Spike looked and couldn’t help a soft “Oh!” of surprise.

Their names were cut at right angles, intersecting at the ‘I’ in both their names, and surrounded by a raggedy heart-shape.

He was tracing the rough carving with his finger when Josh came in and saw him.

“’Becca did that one,” he said as he sat down at the table, exchanging a glance with Sarah.

Spike drank his blood quietly. He was grateful to Riley for running interference - with questions about the farm, the weather, and neighbourhood gossip - to break the subtle, polite and inevitable interrogation into manageable pieces.

They didn’t want to pry – didn’t want to swamp Spike with questions – but they wanted to know. Sarah was trying not to stare, but now the truth had sunk in – now she’d seen Spike drinking the warm blood she’d offered with such sang froid - her initial bravado had given way to awe.

She kept getting up on the pretext of handing the cookies around, or making more tea and coffee than anyone needed, and when she did, she would brush against Spike or lay a hand on him. Nothing unusual about it, except that it was deliberate: as though she wanted to assure herself that he was real; and each time, Spike turned his warmest, most reassuring smile upon her.

Josh noticed it. Trying spare Spike from further mauling - “Stop man-handling the boy -” he reproached her – “You’re embarrassin’ him.”

Busted, she smiled sheepishly. “But it’s so … it’s Spike. And we know him. But it’s like we have a legend in the house. I mean, the whole Dracula thing …”

“Dracula isn’t all that!” Spike said, rousing himself. “Funny story I can tell you -”

As the night wore on, and no one fainted or tried to stake him at some of the things he had to reveal, Spike spent less time studying the contents of his mug – he was onto the hard stuff now: tea with two tea bags – and his reticence was replaced by a relief so intense that even the lamest joke could send him into fits of giggles, and everyone began looking at him strangely.

By the time they cleared the table, Josh and Sarah had gleaned enough fragments of information to put together an edited – and somewhat sanitized – version of Spike’s history, or to write ‘Vampires for Dummies’. Even Riley got answers to some of the questions he’d been too afraid to ask.

At last, feeling they’d got their money’s worth out of him for one night at least, Spike said, “Okay kiddies. You have to be up early, and it’s way past your bedtimes!”

They laughed, and Sarah shook her finger at him and told him not to be cheeky because he wasn’t too old to spank, and then everyone looked vaguely disturbed and pretended very hard that she hadn’t said it.

~~

“Quite something, your folks,” Spike said as they went to the cabin for the first time in weeks.

“They’re okay I guess.”

Riley’s studied nonchalance earned him a cuff from Spike.

When they got inside, Spike was touched to find that a fire had been lit for them; it was still glowing, despite the late hour. But it didn’t give out much heat, and Spike suddenly started shivering; hugging himself. Riley looked at him with concern.

“Cold?”

It wasn’t that: not really. But he was home at last – really home - where it was safe to let go. “I think it’s just … you know …”

Riley nodded. “You need to get those clothes off,” he said, in apparent defiance of logic. Spike went along with the insanity, and stripped naked in front of the fire, and Riley quickly shed his clothes as well, and came to stand before him.

Spike placed a hand on Riley’s breastbone, not to hold him back, but to reassure himself that this was one dream from which he wasn’t going to awake. “Don’t know how I deserve this: any of it,” he said, still shivering, but a little less than before.

“Shhh,” Riley soothed him. “Told you – you don’t have to deserve it. It’s yours.” He ran his fingertips down the left side of Spike’s body until he reached his hand where it hung limply. He took it between both of his, and kissed the palm, then led Spike to their bed. Spike pulled the covers back and sat down and Riley knelt before him on the rug.

He looked down at Spike’s length, as though he’d never really seen him before, then he took him in hand with deliberation, like he was conducting an examination, pushing his foreskin back just a little, licking and kissing the head of his cock. He looked up into Spike’s eyes – eyes that glowed a fierce orange shot with gold - and ran a finger along the soft crease behind Spike’s sac; Spike arched and flexed in response.

“On the bed.”

Riley’s tone, soft but commanding, brooked no disobedience, but Spike was mesmerised and made no move; just stared at him. Then Riley took a firm hold on him, and Spike snapped out of it with a sharp intake of breath.

“Get up,” Riley ordered him again.

“How high Sir?” Spike responded eagerly now, his voice hoarse. He flicked his lips with his tongue. Riley edged him backwards until his positioning against the headboard didn’t allow him to do anything but be served.

“Better,” Riley said, nodding in satisfaction at Spike’s compliance.

Now he had Spike where he wanted him, he took his time stroking and dropping kisses on Spike’s chest and flanks, and running his hands across his stomach. He turned his attention to kneading and caressing the solid muscles of Spike’s thighs, then paused, just breathing and looking, and murmured softly - “You’re so pale … pale as milk” – before he went back to his work between them, not seeing Spike’s eyes widen; not seeing their surfaces glistening.

And Spike had to turn his head away as Riley held him down, spread him and pressed back and wide apart, and did as he would - lavished on him every intimate attention love could devise – nothing was neglected, no service was beneath him, as he touched and kissed Spike everywhere, murmuring soft encouragement and praise. Spike closed his eyes and lay back, breathing heavily, biting his lip and tasting blood as he gripped the headboard and jerked and pitched under Riley’s hands and mouth.

As though he had something to prove, he made no sound save for rasping breaths and soft moans that floated like feathers on the air, and Riley played him, bringing him off with a casual touch, making him come with a word, or jerking him off roughly, until Spike was sore, but still aching to be played once more.

When Spike lay panting, in near-sated exhaustion, Riley kissed the inside of his thigh, and asked – with honest concern - “had enough?”

But Spike was hopelessly hard just from seeing Riley looking up from between his thighs, so innocent and yet so damn sexy. “You trying to kill me with orgasms?” he blurted feebly. “‘Cos, I’m telling you … it won’t work. You wanna finish me off, just stake me now.”

“There’s only one kind of staking I’m thinking of.”

There was naked want in Riley’s eyes and seeing how hard Riley was for him, even as he waited upon his word, Spike caught his breath.

“Go ahead then,” Spike said, his pupils dilating. “You know I’m yours.” He raised his knee, exposing himself utterly, and ran his hand down the back of his thigh, and then lower, where all the nerves were already raw. As he touched himself for Riley, he closed his eyes and moaned, knowing Riley was watching with unabashed desire.

With a catch in his voice, he spoke once more the lines of the sonnet – the one he’d defiled by his abject capitulation in fear of the loss of his limbs, in the Cleveland dungeons – purging the words of their evil association, even as he purged himself of that sin: that lack of faith that Riley would come for him.

“Being your slave, what should I do but tend upon the hour and time of your desire …”

Riley felt a lump come into his throat. “No: not a slave -” he cut in swiftly - “never that. You’re my heart, Spike.”

Spike felt himself break open. His game-face slipped away.

Drowning in those blue, blue eyes, Riley murmured, “My unicorn …”

Spike tilted his head. “I never asked you … why ‘m I a unicorn?”

“Just: it’s how I saw you, when we first met: in a dream.”

“The lion and the unicorn were fighting for the crown …” Spike said dreamily, almost as if he was drugged, and still touching himself languidly.

“Sometimes you’re a lion,” Riley said, stroking his forehead.

“Hmmm. Lion’s like, my demon …” Spike mused. “And unicorns - they get trapped by the pure of heart - virgins … but you weren’t … were you?”

Riley dropped his gaze. “No … but - I’d never been in love before I met you.”

Oh! He hadn’t known …

“Best kind of virgin,” Spike said. “The rest – doesn’t matter at all.”

“So … are there any rules?” - Riley said artlessly - “About how to ride a unicorn?”

“You should know,” Spike replied, his eyes half-closed. “You wrote the book.”

~~

So they made love until the sky turned grey, and when the tinges of colour touched the cotton-candy clouds on the horizon, they went outside.

Spike held Riley’s hand as, for the first time he could remember, he watched the sun rise.

Then they went to the kitchen where they could smell the coffee brewing.

FIN

Quotation: Shakespearse’s Sonnet 57

Deleted scenes: not directly involving Spike and Riley: spoilers up to Chapter 9 of "Reflections"
Deleted Cordelia/David Nabbit scenes
A Glimpse of the Future

Soundtracks available - ask to be friended at val_trepkos to access them.

FIC: Reflections 14: Going Home: Riley/Spike: NC17

Sat, 23 Jun 2007 07:59:06 GMT

Author: Trepkos
Pairing: Riley/Spike
Rating: NC17 overall
Standard disclaimer: no profit made, no copyright infringement intended.
Thanks for betas:
mistressslash, and shapinglight
Feedback: please, I beg of you ...
Links to all my fic so far: Altered States
Previous Part Part 13 Leave-taking

The Way Home

Spike felt a tug on his heartstrings as they drove away from the Hyperion. Things had worked out pretty well in the end, and the team that Angel was getting together wasn’t too annoying when you got used to them. But still, he was grateful for the chance to have Riley to himself at last, with no distractions.

Though they were eager to get home, they’d decided to take it slow, sharing the driving between dusk and the early hours of the morning, and lying up all day. It worked out expensive, but they both needed the rest. They were managing to sleep – actual sleep – for twelve hours at a stretch, and when he woke, Spike found it was with a new sense of lightness: like each day was the first day of the summer holidays.

If their room had a balcony, they would wander out onto it during the late afternoon. Spike was starting to get used to feeling the sun on his bare skin - well, not quite his bare skin; Riley had gone out and bought sunscreen - but he wasn’t ready, just yet, to stray too far from cover. He had too much to lose. And for the first couple of days, the journey home was blissfully uneventful; but it didn’t carry on that way.

~~

One night, they’d stopped at a drug store to get some drinks and snacks, when some wannabe gangsters – little more than kids really - burst in and ordered the cashier at knifepoint to empty the register. They weren’t expecting opposition, but they got it. Riley intervened – easily relieving the ringleader of his knife – then there was chaos. In the general melee of conflicting orders, a shot was fired.

Sudden silence followed and then even more panic. Evidently the one standing guard at the door hadn’t seen fit to tell his accomplices he had a gun. He was prepared to use it too.

Spike only just saved Riley from a bullet in the chest by taking one himself, in the shoulder. It barely slowed him down, and the look-out quickly lost his nerve at the sight of Spike coming at him in game-face. He lobbed the apparently useless weapon at Spike, missed, and fled, closely followed by the rest of the bunch.

Getting held up must have been a pretty routine event around here, because the store clerk didn’t even bother calling the cops: just invited his unexpected helpers choose a bottle off the shelf.

The single malt dulled the pain, when Riley cut the bullet out.

Well, a bit.

Spike tried not to wince or curse too much, though truth be told, it hurt like a bastard. It wasn’t until he saw the blood staining the back seat of Riley’s beloved SUV where the blanket he was lying on had slipped, that Spike let out a loud groan.

“Sorry,” Riley said, not stopping what he was doing. “Nearly done.”

“Your car … I’ve messed it up …” Spike gestured feebly at the red stains on the fabric.

Riley turned a stunned gaze on him. “You think I give a crap about the upholstery?”

Spike tried to shrug, but that really hurt.

“Keep still,” Riley chided him, continuing his work with swift, economical movements.

“Sorry Matron!” Spike did his best to keep a straight face, but the drink got the better of him and he had to choke back an inappropriate fit of giggles.

Riley shook his head, mildly perplexed. When he’d finished cleaning and bandaging the wound, he wiped the mangled slug of metal and held it up for Spike to see.

“There. That’s what you took for me,” he said. “Thanks.”

He kissed Spike on the forehead, and Spike grabbed the back of his head, brought their lips together, and snogged him drunkenly.

“’Course,” he slurred. “Only fair. Take any number of ‘em for you, love. Not much you need me for, but that, I can do. Vampire body-guard: better’n Kevlar.”

“Hmm. Sure is,” Riley said. “Kevlar doesn’t kiss back.”

“You’ve tried kissing Kevlar?” Spike tried for a ‘quizzical’ look, but there was so much alcohol in his system, it just ended up as ‘lop-sided’.

Riley didn’t seem to mind though. He laid a hand on the bandaged wound. “Idiot,” he said affectionately, helping Spike get settled more comfortably in the back seat. “I think the thermos is empty, but if you want -” he offered his left forearm.

Spike shook his head. “Don’t wan’ you passin’ out at the wheel. ‘Sides, this is almost as good.” Spike brandished the half-empty bottle.

Riley laughed and rolled his sleeve down again. “Well, if you’re sure … Try and get some rest while I find us somewhere for the night.”

~~

In the end, they rested up for a few days in a nice little place in the Rockies, reading the papers, watching TV and making out more tentatively than usual, grateful that it hadn’t been more serious. When they continued on their way, Riley used Spike’s recent injury as an excuse to do most of the driving, and for a change, Spike didn’t complain. A vampire’s wounds heal quickly, but the incident had scared Spike. He’d come too close to having to make the choice to lose Riley or turn him. He wasn’t ready for that - not ready at all – and neither, he knew, was Riley.

But it was okay for now. They’d have plenty days together in the sun.

~~

A couple of nights after they’d resumed their journey, they got back to their hotel from a fruitless search for a very late- or very early-opening butcher, and found someone in their room, going through their packs.

As Riley slammed the door shut, the intruder – a young man – turned round, scattering a handful of their possessions and almost falling over his feet in an effort to put distance between himself and his intended victims: now his jailers.

“Looking for something?” Spike enquired coldly.

Terrified eyes looked back at him, from a face that was gaunt and wasted from drug abuse, but Spike wasn’t feeling like letting the intruder off too lightly. Wouldn’t do any harm to give him a scare.

Slowly, Spike let his features transform.

The kid began muttering to himself - “Those pills Mitch gave me … Must have been some bad shit,” - then he stared at Spike again, shaking his head.

If he expected that to make a difference he soon realized his mistake.

As Spike advanced on him, his confused ramblings became more frantic. “Man, this has got to be a bad trip. Jeez! Your face! What are you? Are you real?” - and when Spike took hold of him and held him hard against the wall by the shoulders, fangs just grazing his neck, he almost squealed, “What happened to your face?”

“What do you think mate?” Spike said to Riley, not turning his head away from the kid’s throbbing jugular.

“Your face looks perfectly fine to me,” Riley said truthfully.

Riley sounded distracted – maybe slightly irritated - but now wasn’t the time to ask him about it. Instead, and still not loosening his grip on the prisoner, Spike said, “Wanna check we still have everything that’s ours?”

While Riley checked that none of their stuff was missing, Spike controlled his urge to bite, though he hadn’t fed all day, and he was hungry. This junkie didn’t exactly fit the ‘innocent’ category; but the blood rushing through those arteries would probably be weak, and taste bad anyway from whatever stuff the little idiot had been swallowing or snorting or shooting up.

Itching to take something from the intruder, however petty, Spike frisked him and found his own silver lighter - Riley had bought it to replace his old one, before he’d started trying to give up smoking - in the kid’s pocket.

“That’s bloody low, mate,” he said, dropping his captive in disgust. “Not like you’d even get much for this. How many people want a lighter with ‘Spike’ engraved on it?”

The kid just looked too confused and terrified to think rationally. Bored, Spike shook his head. What were they teaching them in schools these days? When Riley confirmed that nothing else had been taken, Spike shoved their unwanted guest out of the room, muttering, “Next time; pick on someone richer.”

He slammed the door and pressed his forehead against it. In a foul mood now, Spike couldn’t shake it off; couldn’t lose the fangs either, and just when he thought he was getting somewhere, Riley’s voice, hard-edged, cut into the pregnant silence.

“See something you want, did you?” Riley demanded.

Confused at this sudden belligerence, Spike felt his demon fire up anew, and struggled to hold it in check. “No -”

“Feel like slumming it?”

Slowly, Spike turned to look at Riley. “What’s got your goat?”

“My what? Where do goats come into it? It’s you that’s pissed me off.” The room suddenly seemed too small. “My blood not good enough for you, you have to pick on street trash for kicks?”

“Your blood?” Spike pinned Riley with a sullen, smouldering glare. “You knew I was hungry; didn’t hear you volunteering any.”

“I shouldn’t have to. You know everything I have is yours. Seems that’s not enough for you -”

“Jealous, Riley? Of that kid?” It was scarcely credible.

“Yeah, I’m jealous. Why wouldn’t I be?”

And though he got it, hunger and irritation made Spike stubborn. “That’s pathetic,” he said. “We just met. Nearly took a bite of him is all. Do I get jealous of the chips and peas on your plate?”

Riley shoved Spike up against the wall where Spike had been holding the kid only minutes before. “Don’t even try to make out it’s just about food – you know it’s not.”

For a few silent, furious seconds, that burning coal was tossed back and forth between them in their locked gazes.

“Look at anyone else’s neck like that again, and I’ll -”

“You’ll what?” Spike flashed out.

“Nothing …” Riley’s face reddened. He let go of Spike and stood back a little. “Just please don’t … don’t drink from anyone but me.”

Spike closed his eyes and threw his head back, breathing heavily as he tried to hold back the roar that was rising in his throat. It was true. Drinking someone - their blood, their life: whether taken by force or given freely - it meant something; always. And Riley wanted all those meanings to be reserved for him.

This man he thought he knew so well could still find ways to astonish and liberate him; new ways to set his heart ablaze.

That night Spike did things that would have made the chip fire fit to par-boil his brain, and Riley took it without protest: even goaded Spike a little more, pushing him to go a further: letting him know that - for whatever twisted reason: penance or promise or bond of trust – he wanted it, and a part of Spike was grateful for it and only too willing to oblige. And afterwards, when Riley lay spread out before him, marked and bloodied, he looked relaxed and blissed-out: as if a burden had been lifted from him.

But when the morning light streamed in through the open blinds, and when Spike looked again and saw what he’d done, he had to look away. Relieved it wasn’t worse, he just said quietly, “It’ll get better. I’ll get better. Give me time, yeah?”

“I’ll give you more than that,” Riley said.

He yawned hugely, and pulled Spike back onto the bed, holding him down like a big lazy cat with its prey, while Spike allowed him to take his revenge how he wanted it: hot and sweet.

~~

As they drove on the next night, the stars coming out around them, Spike was subdued and unusually silent. He didn’t even complain about Riley’s choice of driving music, which had to be a first. Still, they hadn’t got much sleep, so maybe it wasn’t so remarkable.

After fifty miles without uttering a word, Spike said, “Do you want me to … get a soul? Try for one anyway? I was telling Angel – I heard it’s in Africa - there’s these demon trials -”

Riley had just been watching the road, but when he heard the word ‘Africa’ – when what Spike was suggesting finally registered - he said, “Hell no! Why would you wanna do that? Haven’t you been through enough trials?”

“Well, they’re supposed to be pretty tough, but I’d do it: for you. Wanna be worthy of you … of your love. And I’m not. Not if last night’s anything to go by.”

Riley heaved a sigh. “Spike, quit it, will you? Last night was … well, I pushed you. You know that.” He looked steadily at the road ahead. “And I don’t know what the big deal is with this soul thing. It’s not important: not to me. Like I told Angel, I’m not even sure I have one. Not even sure there is such a thing.” He glanced at Spike.

“See Angel when he loses his, you’ll believe it.” Spike shivered.

“Well, you’re not Angel, and you have enough soul for my comfort. Just keep going the direction you are; you’ll be fine. Get much more, you’ll be too good for me.”

Spike laughed and shook his head. “Never happen,” he said.

~~

They’d stopped for the night, just one more drive from home. Spike had glanced briefly at the mini-bar prices, snorted and gone out again.

‘Just be a minute’, he’d said; but it had been well over an hour.

Riley paced their hotel room, wondering whether to go looking for him, and he couldn’t for the life of him stop Gene Pitney from singing ‘Twenty-four hours from Tulsa’ in his head.

He was just scribbling a note to leave for Spike before taking a turn around the block when a warning jolt from the ring told him Spike was returning, and in a highly agitated state. Riley flung the door open and Spike hurtled along the – fortunately deserted - passageway towards him, wired and vamped.

It wasn’t in any way reassuring.

“Shit, Spike, where d’you get to?” Riley said by way of greeting, dragging him inside the room and shutting the door firmly. “I was getting worried. You’ve been gone so long, you could have grown the hops and brewed the damn beer yourself.”

But Spike was too tense to laugh at the anxious quip, and didn’t have any comfort for him.

“Sorry; didn’t get the stuff: beer, potato chips, papers. Nothing.” Spike looked around him wildly. “Riley. I think I’ve fucked up. Really fucked up.”

Spike’s air of desperation was chilling. Riley had to take hold of him just to stop his frantic and random pacing, and get Spike to look him in the eye, even for a second. “Cool it, Spike; tell me what happened. What did you do?”

“There was this girl. She was in trouble.” Spike’s eyes darted around the room as though looking for someone to blame. “I couldn’t stand to hear it. Had to stop it -”

“Spike, what did you do?” Riley shook Spike to snap him out of his funk.

Spike looked at him steadily at last, eyes wide. “Not tellin’ you.”

It was disturbing to see such heart-shrinking despair so clearly expressed, even on Spike’s changed countenance. Riley felt the blood drain from his face. “You killed her?”

“No! Not her.”

“But … you killed somebody?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

“Spike, please, I have to know.”

Riley didn’t like the edge of hysteria - honed by Spike’s obstinate silence – in his own voice. He told himself to get a grip. At least one of them had to stay calm. Slowly and patiently, he explained, “If someone’s been killed the police will be involved. If they link it to us … well, I have to know what I’m to say: what I’m lying about.”

Spike shook himself and frowned, processing. Pulling his shoulders back and looking a little reassured, he said, “Okay, so … truth is? I … don’t know.”

~~

He hadn’t been looking for trouble; he’d been looking for beer. Nothing wrong with that. The mini-bar prices at this new place? Now they were criminal. So intolerable, he’d gone out to find a store and pick up a few flip-tops and whatever else they might fancy.

Hadn’t meant to take too long about it, but a spanking new Beamer had caught his eye, and when he’d stopped to admire it, the battery of smells overlaying one another had hit him like a succession of slaps in the face with a wet fish. Mingled with ‘new-car’ aroma and the anodyne “Forest Glade” deodorizer was the pungency of strong disinfectant; which entirely failed to mask the unmistakable stench of day-old blood, from a lethal injury: most likely a gut wound, judging by the distinctive emanation.

It was coming from the trunk of the car.

Feeling inexplicably compelled to investigate, Spike started walking round it, to see if there were any open windows or unlocked doors, but before he got halfway, he heard noises, coming not from the car, but from a nearby alley. Someone - a girl - was babbling sobs and pleas, the words tripping over one another in their haste to come to her aid. It was in some southern European tongue, but Spike didn’t have to speak the lingo to know that she was begging for her life. As a universal language, fear left Esperanto in the dust. There were jeering male voices as well; two – no, three - of them.

Spike slid round the side of the alley and let his demon senses have free rein. Yes, there were three men, none of them facing his way, and he could just make out a girl backed up against the wall. Her terrified whimpers did strange things to Spike’s insides.

“You first Jack,” one of the men said. There was the sound of a belt buckle being undone and then a zip. The men began to close in around their prey and a dull glint alerted Spike to the presence of a knife in one of their hands, held concealed from the girl behind the owner’s back.

This was going to be nasty. Make the girl give them whatever they wanted then gut her, same as the last one. They were a piece of work, all three of ‘em. Someone ought to put a stop to it.

But this was human stuff. Not like it was a gang of demons forcing her into this. Not like he knew the bint or owed her anything. Wasn’t his affair: was it?

But there was no one else around, and over a century of experience had taught him that blind alleys the world over, just like this one, had learned to turn shuttered eyes and deaf ears to the suffering of anyone unfortunate enough to get into difficulties within their narrow confines.

And such blindness was evidently contagious.

Spike shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts.

What would Riley do?

Cursing himself for having left his mobile at the hotel, Spike waited, in the faint hope that someone else might come along and pitch in, or for some flash of insight to help him decide what to do. In earlier times he might have pretended to rescue the bird: killed and eaten her attackers and then finished her off – her blood sweet with stillborn relief - for dessert.

But somewhere along the line, the vicarious thrill of anticipation had lost it’s sway, and now it was the victim’s terror he felt like ice in his guts. It made him sick.

The girl wasn’t begging any more – at least not with words. She was on her knees now and using her mouth in other ways, to try and persuade her captors to spare her. Spike felt his stomach turn over at the gagging sounds, and the cat-calls.

Then, like a light had been switched on in his head, he knew. He was going to step in – play the white hat - and put a stop to it. Riley’d do it, wouldn’t he? He’d wade in; wouldn’t let an innocent person come to harm.

Three to one was okay – with the advantage of surprise he shouldn’t even break a sweat. Just have to pick his moment, and watch out for that blade.

The girl was starting to choke.

“Jeez! You suck!” one of the men said. “Badly!”

That wasn’t very nice at all.

There was a half-brick lying conveniently in a doorway, and Spike silently collected it.

“The little Philippino we did last night was better than you.”

It’d be satisfying to draw their attention; tell them - ‘Still did ‘er in though, didn’t you?’ - just to see the looks on their faces when they saw what they were dealing with; but that would be stupid.

No unnecessary risks.

“Didn’t even make a noise when we nailed her ass,” one of them said.

“Well, her mouth was full,” another said, chortling as though it was the wittiest comeback ever.

That did it.

Spike took them from behind, no introductions, no banter. Maybe he’d forgotten how hard he could hit when he wanted; and maybe he didn’t care too much, but two of them were on the ground within seconds.

The third one yanked his prick out of the girl’s mouth and whipped around to see who had blind-sided his colleagues. As he backed away, pants undone and bow-tie askew, Spike recognized his puffy Frat-boy face. He’d seen that ugly mug before, in Cleveland: leering through the side of the wrought iron elevator cage as the owner of the said face reached through to maul and abuse the only being in that house of pain to show Spike any kindness.

His smouldering anger ignited in a sheet of flame.

“Well, what do you know?” Spike snarled.

He cracked the bones in his neck and rolled his shoulders. His jaw clenched. He took a single slow step towards the man, as the girl scrambled sideways, glancing from her attacker to her monstrous saviour, unsure which she should fear the most.

“I do love meeting old friends.”

The man stared back at him in uncomprehending panic; but he wasn’t so confused that he didn’t recognize what Spike was, even if the ‘who’ escaped him. His eyes flicked to the side and he dropped to the ground, trying to reach a bit of a broken wooden packing crate that lay among the overflow from a dumpster.

He wasn’t quick enough.

~~

“Might have killed ‘em,” Spike admitted sullenly. “Didn’t bite ‘em, I swear I didn’t; didn’t stop to put ‘em in recovery position either. The two I smashed on the head might just be out for the count.”

“And the other one?”

“I was angry.”

Angry? White hot with rage, more like. That mean alley, his road to Damascus, he’d set about his work with the fervour of the newly converted; consumed in sudden fury with this man, these men, and anyone who just bought or took whatever – whoever - they wanted, and damn the consequences.

“Lost it; lost control.” Spike’s face twisted. “Got him on the ground,” he said quietly. “Kicked him till he stopped movin’.”

Riley hissed out a single expletive - “Shit!” – and began moving about the room, throwing their stuff into bags with purposeful economy. “Wasn’t that a bit extreme?”

“Was it?” Spike wiped a hand over his forehead, then stared at it as though the hand itself was responsible for the ridges it had just informed him were still distorting his features. “I don’t know. S’why I’m so late. Part of it anyway,” he said. “Didn’t know whether I’d done wrong or right; guessed it was probably wrong because I wanted to do it. Didn’t know what to do about it; keep quiet, lay this on you, or just take off.” He looked away. “Couldn’t leave: too much of a coward.”

“Thank God you didn’t!” Riley rubbed a hand over his eyes. “No, you … you did the best thing: telling me.” He looked about him as if to find an answer written on the walls or woven into the carpet on the floor of their hotel room. “Shit!”

“They’d done it before,” Spike heard a desperate pleading note enter his voice. Had to make Riley understand; he hadn’t done it for blood or kicks. “And they’d killed. Last night. I could smell it all over ‘em; and their motor stank of it. Sick fuckers were taunting her with it; I’d lay odds they were gonna kill her too Riley. And one: I’d know his face anywhere. It was one of the blokes bought Gen. Must have been trying his luck, seeing what he could get for free this time.”

Riley didn’t doubt him. “Jesus! Some people!” He blinked and shook his head at his own thundering understatement. “What about the girl, was she -”

“They’d roughed her up a bit, and she was scared - almost as scared of me as she was of the blokes who done it to her. Tried to talk to ‘er but she ran off – well, limped off, more like. But I made sure she got to the main street; someone took her to the ER.”

He paused and realized Riley was packing. “Sorry to shit so near to our backyard, mate, but what could I do? They’d have killed her, I’m sure of it. Evil fuckers. And I know it’s pot and kettle here – things I did before I met you, and never thought twice about ‘em – but it’s not so hard to change. Not if I can do it.” He bit his lower lip, wondering how to make it right. It was insane, but …

“I could … give myself up – go to a police station …”

Riley’s face was a mask of confusion and Spike hated himself for putting Riley in this position. Should have just done a runner – spared him this.

“No,” Riley said quietly. “You can’t. If you got taken into custody, you might be exposed to sunlight. We can’t take that risk.”

“I have the Gem,” Spike reminded him.

“They’d be sure to take it and bag it if they arrested you.”

“Huh! When they found nothing but a pile of dust in the cell, they’d think I’d given ‘em the slip,” Spike said with a grim laugh.

Riley winced. “That’s not funny.”

“No, it’s not. None of it is.” Spike chewed pensively on his thumb. “Fuck, Riley. I’m so fucking sorry. Not for those cunts. I won’t lie: they had it coming. But … for doin’ this to you.”

Riley heaved a sigh. “It’s not your fault Spike. Not really. It’s not like you went out on some vigilante mission.”

“No. I was -” it nearly choked Spike that this, of all things, might be his undoing: lose him everything – “just trying to do the right thing: what you’d want; really tryin’, and I fucked it up.”

Despondently, Spike dragged the back of his hand across his eyes. “If I hadn’t been so bloody angry, maybe I’d have stopped to think – found a way to save the girl without getting blood on my hands; making you an accessory and all.”

He risked a glance at Riley to see his reaction.

The bloke seemed calmer now – good thing one of them was. As for himself - his hands were still shaking, and he was finding it hard to stand still, and not wear holes in the carpet.

“You made a split-second call,” Riley said, trying to make sense of it for both their sakes. “You knew what those guys had done; you couldn’t just let them kill an innocent person. And I guess they wouldn’t have stopped if you’d just asked them politely.”

“Not a snowflake’s,” Spike swiftly affirmed with a shake of his head. “They’d have offed me as soon as look at me, and at least one of them knew how to do it.”

Riley gave Spike’s arm a brief squeeze, grounding them. “I’m very glad you didn’t give them the chance,” he said.

He was putting on what Spike called his ‘officer head’ now.

“What about heartbeats? Could you hear any heartbeats when you left them?”

Spike jerked his head in annoyance at himself. “Don’t know. I was too distracted ...”

“Will any of them be able to identify you?” Riley looked away. “Any that …”

“Any that I didn’t kill?” Spike said bluntly. “It’s okay Riley, you can say it. I know what I am. And to answer you question, one might recognize me - and maybe the girl, too - but only in vamp-face.”

“Well, let’s try and keep that under wraps for a while, okay?” Riley touched Spike’s face, stroked the ridges away, and Spike pressed his forehead into Riley’s hand, grateful for contact; reassurance that he wasn’t cast out – at least not yet.

“You think anyone else saw what happened? Followed you?”

“Not likely; took a walk across the rooftops,” Spike said, adding thoughtfully, “At least if forensics find my DNA, they’ll think it’s a mistake.”

“Why’s that?”

“Belongs to someone that’s been dead over a century. That should confuse the hell out of ‘em.”

“Good point.” Riley started unpacking again. “You know what? I think we should just lay low for tonight. Leave tomorrow evening, when we planned.”

“We?”

“Well, yeah. Who else?”

“And … if we find out I’ve killed one of them; all of them? What if I’ve really done it, Riley?” Spike hoped he could stand to hear the answer. “You can live with that?” His voice cracked a little. “With me?”

“Well, I’m not bursting into song with joy but – ‘better or worse’, remember?” Disappointment clouded Riley’s face. “What, you didn’t think I’d stand by you? After everything?”

Spike hung his head, but Riley tilted his chin back up to look at him.

“Hey.”

But Spike could hardly bear to see the love in his partner’s eyes. It made him want to curl up and hide like the brainless unworthy worm he undoubtedly was. The shakes had come back with a vengeance, but this time it was relief. “I can take a separate room tonight if -”

“Please don’t do that.”

“Wouldn’t you rather -”

“No. I wouldn’t,” Riley said firmly. “And anyway, it’d look suspicious. We should just behave normally. Well, normally for us, anyway.”

“’Kay” Spike said with a nod. “I’ll go get cleaned up then.” Grabbing his bag he went to the bathroom and took a shower, and for once, despite what he’d said about it being business as usual, Riley didn’t join him.

Good thing too.

Awareness that he was playing out a cliché didn’t prevent Spike from staying under the hot spray for a very long time; and the whole of that time was spent washing. When he was done, rather than wandering out with a towel around his waist, he put on fresh clothes from the bag he’d taken in with him.

He came out of the bathroom and Riley went to him at once, pulled him towards the bed and made him sit down.

“Oh,” Spike said. “What …?”

Riley knelt on the floor in front of him. “This – what happened tonight – doesn’t change anything between us. You got that?”

Spike nodded. “But -” He shivered and wrapped his arms around himself, and was embarrassed to find that his cock was very obviously hard. “Oh,” he said, putting his hands in his lap. “Sorry. Bloody inappropriate reflex; can’t help it.”

“I know,” Riley said. He sat beside Spike on the bed. “Let me take care of that for you.”

And it would have been easy to give in – he was so grateful for the offer - but it didn’t seem right, not after what he’d done: the trouble he’d caused. So Spike removed Riley’s hand from his fly. Instead, he pulled Riley’s arm around his shoulders, rubbing his thumb anxiously in the palm of Riley’s hand, and huddling against his comforting bulk. He’d have crawled inside him if he could.

“Just switch on the goggle-box mate.”

Without letting go of Spike, Riley reached for the remote. “Something particular you wanna see?”

“Local news: might tell us something.”

“Oh. Of course. Good thinking.”

They watched in silence for a while, wrapped up in their thoughts. Riley was the first to break it.

“You know, if they’d been demons, I wouldn’t have given a second thought to what you did. But because they were human, I freaked out. I’m sorry; I should know better. There’s more to being human than … well, being human.”

Spike didn’t answer for a while, then he said carefully, “That’s very … politically correct of you; but I don’t think it’s safe for you to say stuff like that to me right now ... it’s too confusing. Maybe later: when I’ve got my bearings. Guess I just … forgot about how there’s always consequences when someone gets killed; never had to worry about it before. I’ve just gotta remember; try not to kill anyone: even the bad guys.”

“Well, that’s … a good rule of thumb,” Riley said with guarded relief. “But you don’t have to make any promises you might not be able to keep. If you need to defend yourself, or someone else, you do what you have to, okay?” He hugged Spike closer. “Just take it one day at a time.”

At around five in the morning, Spike’s night’s work was the breaking news. Spike sat forward, staring at the screen as the newscaster reported that three suspected serial rapists and murderers the police had been looking for were now under formal arrest in hospital. Only one of them was conscious – the one who’d phoned for an ambulance.

The tension eased out of Spike’s shoulders. At least no one had died. He leaned back, moulding himself to Riley’s chest.

The men had ended up at the same ER where a hotel worker had been admitted just an hour earlier, babbling about how she’s been abducted, but some huge guy, like Batman, swooped in from the sky and put her three attackers out of action. The police officer interviewed, who was clearly unconvinced about the timely intervention of a comic book superhero, suggested – without actually saying it in so many words - that the victim may have got confused, and that her supposed rescuer was actually a fourth gang member who was still at large, the gang having fought amongst themselves.

“Yeah, ‘cos no one round here helps the helpless, do they?” Spike remarked.

“Very few,” Riley agreed. “Here or anywhere.”

A vehicle found near the scene and matching a description given by witnesses to previous attacks was being examined by forensics.

“Well if that doesn’t convict ‘em, I’m a monkey’s uncle,” Spike said, starting to unlace his boots. At last he felt comfortable enough to get undressed and under the covers; but he kept to his own side of the bed, and lay staring at the ceiling.

“Hey,” Riley said. He leaned over and kissed him. Spike didn’t respond, except to whisper, “Please, Riley.”

“Please what?” Riley pulled back, concerned. “You don’t want me to kiss you?”

“Don’t … don’t just forgive me so easy. You should be angry with me. It’ll be easier for me if you’re angry.”

“I’m not angry,” Riley said firmly. “And I have to forgive you. If I don’t forgive you, how can I forgive myself, for all the demons I put down, just because of what they looked like: without even knowing for sure whether they even meant any harm.”

Spike thought of Clem, and wondered if he was still alive, or had fallen foul of the Slayer or the Initiative before it went belly-up. “Feels like I’m standing in the middle of a bloody minefield, with my boots on fire,”

“That’s called life,” Riley said. “You’ll be okay. Everything worked out.”

“’All is for the best in this, the best of possible worlds’, eh?” Spike shook his head at the naiveté. “It worked out. This time, maybe” he said abruptly. “But when we go back – if you still want me to come back - we have to tell them. Sarah and Josh, I mean. Not about this, but … what I am.”

Riley leaned up on one elbow and gave Spike a doubtful look.

“Your folks were fine about the total absence of a womb in this relationship, and good on them for it. But this – they don’t know my heart’s not even beating and it’s not fair on them.” Spike turned over on his side, away from his partner. “I can’t lie to ‘em any more Riley.”

“You haven’t lied,” Riley said. “Not really.”

Spike shot a look of reproach over his shoulder. “Oh, please. ‘I need a special diet.’ ‘I don’t go out in the sun because I burn easily.’ I don’t think I can stand it, if I have to keep coming out with such whopping porkies.”

Riley laughed. “I guess it’s not the whole truth. But every-one keeps secrets, Spike. Need-to-know basis has served us pretty well so far; military family’s used to it. And now you have the Gem, there’s even less reason -”

“The Gem’s one of the reasons I have to tell them,” Spike patiently insisted, turning to face Riley once more. “Before, they could have worked it out for themselves, if they’d really had a mind to. For all I know, they have their suspicions already and they’re just too polite to say anything -”

“Well, you know Mid-Westerners,” Riley interjected with a self-deprecating smile.

“But think about it, Riley. My chip’s gone, and with the Gem, what chance have they got if I flip out? They’re not even safe in daylight. Need-to–know works both ways here. I need them to know. Right now I feel like a loaded gun with the safety off.”

“Can’t I be your safety?” Riley pleaded.

Spike cocked his head, thinking about it. “You’re right in a way - I care for whoever you care for – but what if we hit a rough patch, and that’s not enough? One thing I do know; if they’ve made a choice to trust me - not just for your sake, but knowing what I am - there’s no way I could harm them. And you: you ought to trust your folks to make that choice, not keep them in the dark. I want to be real to them – I want them to be real to me – and that won’t happen while this secret stands between us.”

Spike could see he was finally getting his point across, but Riley still looked ready to try and talk him out of it, so he used his final shot.

“And there’s something else. Didn’t ask to be a vampire, but it’s what I am, and I don’t want to be ashamed of it around them any more. Don’t want you to be ashamed of me either.”

“I’m not,” Riley insisted. “I’m not ashamed of you. But I’m Covert Ops. Guy remember?” He looked embarrassed. “I know it’s selfish of me, but I think I kind-of like that there’s this thing I know about you, that they don’t.”

That was when Spike knew he’d got his way, and finally allowed himself to relax.

“Don’t worry, love.” Spike edged closer, and ran a fingertip down the centre of Riley’s chest, letting him know he was ready to allow Riley to give him relief. “There’s plenty things you know about me that your mum and dad’ll never find out.”

So Riley took him in hand at last, and when Spike came he gave it up like a sacrifice, moaning, “Sorry, so sorry …”

At last they were both able to sleep.

~~

“’Like Batman’ was it?” Spike said, as they were setting out for the final drive the next evening.

He rolled his coat up and packed it in one of the duffels. “Think I’ll give up wearing this thing for a bit. It’s past time. Don’t need it.”

“Here,” Riley said, tossing him one of his sweaters. “You’ll get cold.”

Cocooned in Riley’s scent, Spike slumped down in the passenger seat as they left town, trying to look as un-Batman-like as he could, and slept again.

No one noticed their departure, or stopped them crossing the State line.