__Till Death Do Us Part__
By Dutchbuffy



“Spike?”

“Wesley.”

It was Spike’s voice. The hallway was a dark pit, impossible to see into. After a long hesitation Wesley undid the chain and opened the door. Light from his apartment spilled a silvery shimmer over wet platinum hair and raindrops on cheekbones. Spike was still wearing the jeans and striped shirt, much the worse for wear, but unlike two days ago, he had no need of black leather to exude menace. Every line in his body screamed tightly coiled danger.

“Gonna let me in?” Spike drawled, leaning with one hand on the doorpost, the other hooked suggestively in his waistband.

Wesley had been fairly certain what kind of creature he’d see if he ever saw Spike again, but it hurt even more than he’d imagined. He stepped back silently and waited.

“You know, huh? Pity, that. Don’t look so scared. I’m not after your blood, just your bod. Haven’t changed that much, you know. Wasn’t that evil even without the soul. Ask Buffy.”

“We tried to find you, Spike. She was very concerned about you.”

“Was she now? She did let me in, you know. She wasn’t afraid of me. Was happy to see me, actually. Pity it didn’t last long.”

Spike grinned his teeth bare and licked his lips.

Wesley didn’t know what to think. Was Spike suggesting he’d killed Buffy? He didn’t want to ask for fear of hurting Spike’s feelings if it wasn’t true.

“I’ll just give her a call,” he said. “Tell her you’re here. That you’re…” he hesitated. “All right.”

“Is that what all the cool kids are calling it now? All right? I’m a vampire, Wesley. A demon. I care about nothing but blood and mayhem, remember?”

“Buffy?” Wesley said. “I’ve found Spike. He’s here.”

“This isn’t Buffy, Wes, it’s Fred. I’ve got bad news. Buffy’s dead.”

Wesley’s eyes found Spike’s. Spike bared his teeth again. “Bet you’re afraid of me now, aren’t you? Gonna sic Angel’s dogs on me? Yap yap at my heels?”

Wesley found he wasn’t afraid anymore. He didn’t care one jot about Buffy Summers or what had happened to her.

“Come in, Spike,” he said. “You’ll always be welcome here.”

He held out his arms.

Spike hesitated, and odd smile on his lips. “Got a death wish, have you, Pryce?” He held up his finger. “Shh. I know. Your name is Wesley.”

He stepped into Wesley’s embrace. He was cold and smelled of nothing but rain. No sweat or cologne or gel; he might as well not have been there at all. Wesley expected teeth in his throat but Spike held him hard against his cool body and buried his head in Wesley’s shoulder.

“Are you okay, Spike? What happened at Buffy’s?”

Spike lifted his face, wet with tears. “What do you think, Wes?”

Wesley kissed the soft salty lips. “I don’t know, Spike. You tell me. Did you kill her? Did you two fight?”

Spike sighed and some tension seemed to leave his body. ”You are so good to me, Wes. You even give me the benefit of the doubt. But it’s too late for that. She would have nothing of me. I thought she wanted the demon, and you know me, always trying to be what she wants me to be. We fought. Not like lovers. Like the vampire Slayer and her rightful prey. And I won. She’s my third Slayer, how about that? I didn’t think I could take her, you know. But I could. I didn’t mean to, but I did.”

Wesley hugged Spike harder. He didn’t know what to say. The words he’d prepared, that stuck in his throat now, were about love and saying goodbye and being prepared to rest. He’d been prepared to die at Spike’s hands, but he didn’t think it was going to happen tonight.

“I drank her blood, Wesley. She was dead anyway. I broke her neck. Such wonderful blood she had, tasted just like I always imagined. Finally know it now. ”

“Do you… do you want to stay here, Spike? Come on, I’ll take you to bed. You must be tired to death.”

There they went again, dancing their dance. Spike breaks, Wesley glues him together again, but each time there were more visible cracks.

The bedroom was dark, curtains tightly shut against the approaching dawn. Spike sat down on the edge of the bed. Slowly he began to unbutton his bloody shirt, sitting as he’d done countless times the past month, doing this ordinary little chore. Wesley kicked out his shoes, unable to tear his eyes away from Spike’s hands. His upper body was only a little paler than usual; he still had a faint tan from the beach. Spike unbuttoned his fly and lay back on the bed to wriggle out of his trousers, in exactly the same movements he always used to get them off. As if nothing had changed, while everything had.

He turned to Wesley, gloriously naked, his cock hard and waiting for him. He crawled over the rumpled covers towards Wesley.

“Time to teach you a lesson, Pryce. You’ve been bad,” he growled.

Wesley’s hands shook so hard that he couldn’t get his fly open. Spike curled his tongue at him and he became paralyzed with lust. This is what he wanted, what he’d hoped for. How did Spike know that this was it?

Spike tore off Wesley’s remaining clothes and raked his nails over Wesley’s chest. Wesley trembled. He couldn’t move a muscle; the only thing that moved was his bobbing cock, straining upwards to his belly.

Spike’s hand closed over it and Wesley’s eyes bulged. The hand was cold and gripped him harder than was comfortable and still he almost couldn’t restrain the sick hopeless excitement.

“Don’t come,” Spike said.

Goosebumps raced in from his limbs and crashed together in his neck. Spike stood up, sliding his body against Wesley’s in one sinuous movement. Spike’s cock touched Wesley’s belly and he wanted to hold it, suck it off, kneel at Spike’s feet. Spike slapped his hands away.

“No hands, Wes. On your belly.”

Wesley got down on his knees. His thighs shook and the pressure behind his eyes was almost unbearable. Spike rummaged around in the drawer and cool liquid was smeared between his buttocks. Wesley moaned.

He wanted to say,” Hurt me,” but couldn’t get the words out. Too repressed, tight arse to the bitter end, the thought.

Spike knew anyway. “Gonna hurt you,” he said, his voice strangled.

Wesley wished he could see Spike’s face, but he knew that face down was the only way he could bear this. Spike thrust something hard and cold inside him, and for a moment Wesley didn’t know if it was a finger or a cock, it felt so huge. It slid out with a pop and the thing that entered next was even bigger; now that wasn’t a finger, it couldn’t be. He tried to relax. Something popped softly in his ass and Spike slid in further. Wesley trembled and moaned, on the verge of speaking but all words fled.

Spike started thrusting, slapping his ass cheeks hard. “That’s it, Wesley, that’s it. Take your punishment like a man. Twenty lashes for being so bad.“ Slap. ”Hurts, doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

Slap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, Spike.”

Slap. “Yes, what?”

“Yes, William?”

Slap. Slap. “Yes, what?”

Oh God. He couldn’t do this. His eyes hurt so much. He couldn’t. He forced himself to say it. “Yes, Daddy.”

A fist closed around his own cock. “Now you can come.”

Wesley shot out his seed on his white sheets, sobbing, coming harder than he ever had before, seeing the gooey stuff pearl and form strings, again and again and again. The tears just made small gray spots. He rested his forehead on the mattress, his face burning with shame and relief. Spike bucked against his back and then he felt a burning pain in his shoulder. It was like a second orgasm. His limbs turned leaden and tingly and he floated off above the bed, seeing the pale form of the vampire latched onto his neck.

Spike slid out of him. Lukewarm stuff dripped down his thighs, blood trickled down his neck into the bedding, brilliant red against the white. A hand trailed softly through his hair.

“Gave you what you wanted, didn’t I? Could never do that for her. Some things will never work out, time I got that through my thick noggin. Bye, love.”

Wesley heard the sound of the curtains being yanked open and was just in time to catch Spike’s face turning into the sun, his hands and arms spread wide to receive her blessing, and see him fall to ashes.

* * *