Can’t sleep.

As the rain pounds through what’s left of the night, Connor shifts in a tangle of sheets thinking about those yellow eyes, his face fixed in a scowl as he replays each inflection in Spike’s voice from the teasing, high pitched chuckle to the deep, intimidating killer roar.

In the few hours since the vampire took off, Connor has thought of nothing else. His mind is in meltdown as he tries to examine the unfamiliar, yet curiously stimulating, powerlessness caused by the demon pressing against his thighs.  Connor, who has made an art out of building barriers and hiding his needs and feelings from friends and family, is horrified to find that now he’s unable to take control - almost unwilling and he’s irritated as well as confused by – –was it  ‘attraction’ to the vampire? He tries in vain to get comfortable as he’s swept by an unfamiliar tide.

‘Dad.   Dad?’ What did Spike mean? Why did it mean something? It feels like everything is about to change.

Dry-mouthed, Connor explores the ceiling where rain drops reflect through the window to make patterns that remind him of the fine veins on the vampire’s hands. He’s never fought a creature so strong, never met his match, and he’s confused at the way the experience has left him hung over yet craving more.

Connor stands on the bed and reaches for the ceiling, the shapes now dancing on his bare skin.

Moving to the window, he scans the deserted street. No, not on a night like this - he wouldn’t be watching now. Connor drags cool air into his lungs and slides tender knuckles across the pane. When he blows on them, he revels in the slight chill. The blinds at half – mast heave erratically, and he allows them to drop after one last survey of the street.

Who was ‘Spike’? Beneath the vampire’s clownish, brusque exterior, the human was disconcerted when he’d sensed the presence of a calm, deadly creature – the demon which seemingly refused to surface.  Where did this restraint come from? Why had Spike pulled back? And…something else continues to play at the peripheries of Connor’s mind…memories. It’s like trying to hold on to a shoal of tiny fish, flashes of colour, shapes but little else as he tries to grapple and examine elusive details and feelings which leave the alluring, familiar smell of old death and ancient, powerful blood.

The one element that stayed, concrete and real was fear. And, although he wouldn’t name it – desire.

On his belly, hands still cold from the glass, Connor splays his arms across the bed and looks down the length of bicep at his fingers. Turns on his side and shifts to hug himself, his face rolling across his hands, lips snagging as he closes his eyes and imagines those temporarily cold fingers are Spike’s lips whispering across his eyelids, fluttering across his cheeks and smothering his mouth with unbreathing kisses.

Connor thinks about the one or two girls he’d been attracted to - nothing serious. Nothing more than a kiss and a hand job in the car. The attraction had always seemed to vanish once he’d said goodnight. And guys? Some days – everything gave him a hard on, even that gay porno movie Stevo hired one time as a joke – fooling around with beer and chips. Both of them talked all the way through, and he remembered Stevo giggling,

“Can you bend yours, Man?”

The remote had almost connected with Stevo’s face – good thing the jock had hair trigger reflexes because Connor had forgotten to hold back. Would’ve been some bruise. And he was glad his Mom bought him those shapeless T’s so he could hide his cock – harder than a metal girder. But it wasn’t because he ‘liked’ guys. No way – an automatic response, sure, it made sense - to the groaning and fucking. Not the guys. Jeez, the spin cycle gave him a hard on – and he wasn’t planning on quality time in the basement.

Shit, he hadn’t thought about that in a while…pressing against his thighs… but… this was really bad, a vampire. If only Spike was just a guy! The smile that almost surfaced evaporated as a shudder of heat and want filled Connor.

How could he allow himself to even think about this? But what if he didn’t, what would he lose?

***

Can’t sleep.

It’s stopped raining at last, and Spike’s uncharacteristically still, lying fully clothed on his rented bed listening to the squawk of early rush hour traffic. He’ll have to move soon, he thinks, as he squints past his nose at the long taper of ash balanced at the end of his cigarette.

The blinds are shut tight, and he’s pinned a thick blanket over them for good measure. While in the darkness the vampire can see well enough, he can find nothing to distract him from the events of the night and nothing to delete his scent-memory which revisits the rush of Connor’s acidic adrenaline. Pre-soul, this would have filled him with the expected lust and joy. Now Spike is startled at how it arouses him.

He hasn’t turned on the TV in the week he’s been there. Hasn’t got time anymore, and an endless unlife suddenly seems too short – there aren’t the years to find answers, a purpose, a connection.

Spike draws on the cigarette then tsks when the column flutters to his chest. He’s not bothered that his clothes are still damp. None of it matters. Doesn’t feel cold, does he?

He steps off the bed elegantly and slides out of his jeans and long sleeved sweater, leaving them where they fall. He sidles to the window, stands back, wraps the edge of the blanket round his hand and peeks into the street. The vampire knows Connor’s routine only too well by now. A few early arrivals mill about, some of them stopping for coffee before class, enough for him to possibly lose sight of Junior, and he wouldn’t be able to scent him, would he? Too risky standing here - what the fuck’s the matter with him? He’s got a job to do, do it – leave!

Spike tucks the cloth around the window frame and briefly inspects the pins he’s used. Rushes everything because he doesn’t care anymore.  Cloth could fall down, but he’s found that concentrating too much on anything always leads to trouble: stupid plans, even dumber infatuations and now this! He looks down at his semi-hard cock. Bugger! This was all he needed.

***

Connor’s hands aren’t listening to his mind’s protestations and won’t stop the soft passage down his neck. He tenses as they grip his throat for a moment and release a moan from him. Rolling on to his back, he pulls his feet towards his ass. Determined hands are free to snake down his belly and to his cock. Fuck! This was all he needed.

***

Yep, now he’s irritated.

The kid’s young – not too young. Same age as Dru, but the human’s not old enough for…all this ‘history’.

But, this is just a wank. Nothing wrong with a wank.

Time was a kid that age, with that attitude, he’d have hunted him down, made him beg for his cock and then come all over his pleading face before bleeding him dry. Now there was an image! Spike finds he’s vamped out, and he draws a sharp breath in response to his soul’s admonishments. Retreating to the bed, adopting a pose of mock relaxation, the vampire ignores his erection and extends lukewarm limbs, spreading pale legs wide and tucking his moist palms safely behind his head.

He wonders whether he should return to his sire. Git wouldn’t know if he made up some bull-shit.

 “Yeah, yeah…doin’ fine. Needs a haircut but, you know, ‘chip off the old block’. Sends his love.”

A smirk when Spike imagines the look of despair and then panic as Angel realises Spike’s blown the whole thing.  Sometimes he’s glad he doesn’t have a bloody reflection.

The vampire sighs as his hands find his cock again.

He pointedly focuses on  his grandsire, casts his mind back to a week ago in the dark office as he mentally retreats from this current mess which somehow, knowing his bloody luck – was just going to get messier.

***

“You know, Spike, I miss the way you used to disappear without warning.”

“You wanted something? I was about to hit town with Lorne. Don’t s’pose it’s worth asking you to…” The moonlight caught Spike’s finger nails. They absorbed the light like rice paper as he took the glass of whiskey from his sire and draped his legs over the arms of the worn leather chair,” Yeah, thought as much.”

He didn’t press Angel. The brooding seemed to be on a different level lately, and not just as a result of the displaced path of Mr Guilt. Spike found that even he was affected by the older vampire’s mood. He waited, uncharacteristically sipping at his drink, afraid that a sudden word or movement would break the fragile sense of intimacy.

Finally,

“I’ve been thinking about Connor…”

So that was it.

“I let him go, Spike.”

There was no point in saying ‘you did what you had to do’. Spike knew Angel operated on ‘shoulds’ and ‘had to’s. His sire wasn’t the type of creature that needed reassurance - a quality that Angel shared with the far more fun Angelus. Spike still took pleasure in pointlessness and irritating those around him so,

“You did what you had to do.”

“What if…? Sometimes I…” Spike tried not to roll his eyes as he waited, “I miss him, Spike, and…”

“You need to talk?”

Angel stood, folded his arms across his chest and swung round the immense desk to Spike, who fought the impulse to drop to the floor at Angel’s feet. The mere presence and charisma of his grandsire still amazed him.   Even de-fanged and in this unlikely setting, Spike never forgot his place in the pack – although he’d die before admitting to it without the promise of a good seeing-to from this diabolical beauty. And that hadn’t happened for decades.

“Surely you’ve got people on it. You must know he’s alright?”

“I know facts, like he’s at art school, hangs out, but…”

“Don’t see what it’s got to do with me, mate.”

Spike did see. He knew that humans with their spider web existences and transient family arrangements knew nothing. He understood. This wasn’t about college grades and friendship groups, it was about,

“Blood.” he said flatly.

“He’s not like other humans, Spike. He’s strong, demon strong and he probably doesn’t know what he can do… What if he hurts someone? What if he abuses that power?” Angel’s voice rose an octave, “Sometimes he used to make me so mad – arguing, sulking, questioning my every move. He never really trusted me!”

Spike watched Angel pacing about and dipped across to the drink’s cabinet as his sire passed him.

“He’s a hellava, stubborn…hey! “ Angel stopped pacing.

“What? Still counting the pennies?” Spike took a moment to smirk then gulped the JD, pouting in appreciation, “Kind of like the sound of the kid. Yep, I think I like him.” He poured another glassful and sank back into the arms of the chair.

“William…” Angel growled,

“Ooo, I always know you’re cross when you call me ‘William’.” Finally the JD was kicking in.

“You know something? It’s like having two goddamned teenagers. You can’t live with them…”

“…can’t live with them.” Spike finished pleased to see the broad forehead smooth as he was gifted a rare smile.

“And can’t help loving your children, whatever they do, however they choose to lead their lives.”

Spike peered into his drink, and the amber liquid swilled as he turned the glass, embarrassed by Angel’s rare admission, afraid to acknowledge it in case he’d misheard, but Angel was looming over him with his hand wavering above his childe’s blonde head.

“You know you really make me mad…” the hand resting gently on the stiff hair.

“I’m counting on it.” Spike bowed his head and leant against his grand sire’s thighs.

“Blood.” Angel whispered. He shook himself and pulled away, leaving Spike cold, embarrassed. “I wasn’t a good dad – I gave up too soon, too easily. He’s all alone.”

Spike shrugged.

“He’s got a new family. He doesn’t know about what you ‘had’ to do.”

“You don’t understand, Spike. This isn’t some guilt thing - I can deal with however much of that’s going around! This is about what he might do. There’s so much evil out there. What’s to say he won’t get in with the wrong crowd…” Angel slumped behind his desk again, his face dark, filled with contained despair. “And then sometimes I think, what if he hasn’t really forgotten anything…”

“Could be having bad dreams.”

Angel’s eyes were on their way to yellow.

“Not really helping, am I?” Spike said. His face softened.

“I don’t want you to talk to him, Spike. I want to know if he’s happy, if he’s got friends…”

“Friends?” The younger vampire didn’t bother trying to hide the scorn, “What’s the bloody good of friends?”

“Sometimes I wonder…”

Spike looked at him curiously. Angel’s hands, big and white against his black clothes seemed to be looking for a comfortable position.

“Family…now you’re talking!” Spike slapped his thighs and stood up with a forced sigh. “I want a car, old man.”

“Uh, that’ll be a ‘no’!”

“Well that’s bloody typical. I can be trusted – you need to keep an eye on your kid? I’m bored rigid. ‘sides, I’m kinda interested – want to see the boy for myself, want to see if there’s any family resemblance.”

“God, I hope not…” Spike heard Angel mutter as he swept out of the office, past Harmony.

“Call down stairs, will you love, I’m going on a trip!”

Reflections 5