The Memoirs of William Montague, Aka Spike:

Author: Shara Nesu

Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. Never done a AU before with no vamps and no demons. See what you think and tell me.

Disclaimer: I don't own anyone it all belongs to Joss etc.

Spoilers: None

Category/Pairings: Spike/Angel

Rating: NC17 Warning: M&M Sex, Rape, Drug abuse.

Distribution: Want, Have, Take.

Summery: It's William's 18th Birthday and after getting into trouble he's saved by an Angel. Angel - who it turns out isn't at all angelic but a male prostitute with a troubled past. Unable to forget his saviour William sets about saving Angel from himself and a pimp who doesn't want to let him go.

Archived: Shara's place: http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html

Many thanks to Helen for saving me!


The Memoirs of William Montague, Aka Spike:
By Shara Nesu

23 February 2002

Today is my 18th birthday.

It should have been the best day of my life. I was planning on getting the girl, the bike and the freedom. Did I get it? Like hell I did. What did I end up with? One broken rib, a black eye and one incredible... no wait, I’ll leave that for later. Things hadn’t gone all that bad by the end of the night. In fact, it’s a day I’ll never forget. Today, I found out who Spike - me, or Will as my Uncle Rupert calls me - is.

The morning started fine. I got up, had breakfast, followed by the usual argument with Professor Rupert Giles - my uncle. He works at the Sunnydale University and is head of the Historical Department. I will attend there myself in the fall, after graduation from high school that is. He wants me to do a course in anthropology. He’s bloody thick! I don’t want to turn out like him when I’m fucking forty. Single, tweed suits and no bloody life! Me, I want to do a course in literature. I want to be a horror writer. I haven’t exactly got any idea what to write about at the moment, but that’s what I want to be. Last month, I wanted to be a poet. You know something like John Lennon but without the music. Unfortunately, I discovered I had little flair for poetry. Having gotten stuck on the word ‘effulgent’ for weeks, I finally gave up that idea. The month before that, I wanted to be a pop idol. Billy idol with a little twist. That didn’t work. I discovered I couldn’t ever read music - it just looked like black paint drops on paper.

The Billy Idol idea did go a little overboard. I got my hair cut and bleached and brought the tight black jeans and leather jacket. My uncle almost had a fit when he saw me. He was so furious he threatened to sell my motor bike, but in the end, school rang about a problem and he forgot all about me. Lucky me. It’s not like I hate him, but he’s so bloody stiff and boring. I haven’t lived with him forever. My parents died in a car accident in Lincolnshire, England about 5 years ago and he is my only living relative. That’s when I came to Sunnydale.

I don’t have many friends here. I’m strange and English, and that tends to distance me from people. I know some people. Take Buffy Summers. One real knock out of a girl. Then there is Willow, Xander, the Queen Bitch Cordelia, but none are really friends. The only other friend I have is Drusilla, the daughter of the local pastor. And I think the only reason she likes to be with me is because it upsets Daddy dearest.

Sorry, I’m going of topic a little. Back to my birthday. After another argument with Giles, I finally manage to get away from him and take my bike out for a spin. Today is Saturday and thankfully there is no school. I was planning on taking Drusilla to LA for the day and having a great time with the false ID I have, and getting drunk. Unfortunately, when I arrived at Drusilla’s, I discovered her in the arms of the local dork Xander. Bitch! I ripped off my jacket, got out my leather gloves and was going to beat the shit out of him... but I lost my nerve.

They never saw me. I just stood there staring into her front window, watching them neck on the sofa. I didn’t do a bloody thing. Well, actually I did. I turned on my heel and ran back to my bike. Five minutes later I roared out of Sunnydale and onto the road to LA.

After that things got steadily worse. First off, I got a speeding ticket. Second a puncture. After that the bar I found tore up my fake ID. Then on the way home, I got bike jacked. They stole my bike, my money and left me bleeding on the side of the road. I tell ya, I’ve never had a broken bone before, but that rib felt as though someone was trying to rip my chest open with every breath. I couldn’t move, and was just left lying there in some deserted, dirty alley. I thought this was it. Some lowlife nutter would come along and either rape or kill me. I mean, I couldn’t do a bloody thing! I was just lying there waiting and then I saw him.

My first thought was really stupid. I mean I’m a tough, English punk that... Okay, I try to be a tough, English punk, but when I first saw him I thought he was some sort of Angel. He has these just perfect brown eyes. Deep chocolate... no more like hot chocolate, all-liquid and swirling colours. His skin is pale with an almost unhealthy hue. His hair was dark and spiky, but looked thick and lusciously soft. He has this strong caveman brow, but his features are... well, they are perfect. He’s beyond handsome, and I’ve never ever thought this of another man, but he’s beautiful. Hence the whole me thinking he was an Angel kinda thing.

Large, strong hands pulled me up right, and he helped me to my feet. At this point I was beyond caring about my image, and tears were flowing over my cheeks. He didn’t speak, but just got me to my feet and wrapped his arm around my back to hold me up. I must have leaned all my weight on him, but he was surprisingly strong, and almost carried me down the alley. I had no idea where we were going, but at that moment, anywhere was better that lying in that stink hole.

“Hey Angel, I don’t think he’ll be able to afford you tonight!”

My silent companion growls softly, but doesn’t answer the voice. I notice another young man dressed in drag standing on the side of the road.

“Angel, I’ll take your customers if you leave!” he shouts again.

“Customers?” I mumble.

Angel - my helper - didn’t answer me, but continued to carry me into a small alleyway and up a few stairs. He pulled out some keys and unlocked a heavy metal door. He shoved it open, while balancing me on his hip, and then dragged me inside.

Inside it was a complete dump. The only furniture in the room was a dirty bed, fridge and tiny gas stove. There were a few clothes scattered around, a needle, and then in the back of the room, around 12 canvasses and an assortment of paints in whatever pots available. Angel, pulled me up, and lay me gently on the bed. He left me a moment, but returned with a handful of bandages, and a plastic box filled with condoms, Vaseline and antiseptic.

“You’re a hustler,” I breathed softly, amazed at what my saviour was. I didn’t really mean to say it out loud, but I’ve never met a male prostitute before.

My words seem to have offended Angel, and he paused in his work. “If that offends you I can take you back out on the street,” he snapped back.

“No!” I cry. Okay, I’m a little scared. I really don’t want to go back out there with a broken rib, no transport or money, and the other problem which would be - I’m completely lost. “I’m sorry,” I mumble. I’m really not used to saying that word. I never say it.

Angel gives a little sigh, and takes off his black cotton shirt. Underneath he’s wearing a slightly discoloured white T-shirt, with black leather jeans. Really nice black leather jeans, revealing a well-toned ass... Whoa! I think I might have hit my head in that assault, because I’m actually looking over another man. A prostitute to boot.

“I’m going to have to take your T-shirt off,” he tells me in his soft, husky voice. For a moment I hesitate, but Angel helps me up into a sitting position. “I will tape up your chest; it should help ease the pain.”

Well, that changes my mind straight away. I don’t care if Jack the Ripper was offering to bandage me up. Anything to stop the pain. I help him pull my T-shirt off, and for the first time I notice the tracks on his arms. I’ve never been into drugs. Oh, I’ve smoked some pot but nothing more. I’ve seen other kids try heroin and such, but from the amount of scars on his arms, Angel has been a user for awhile now. Anyhow, Angel gets my shirt off and starts poking around my chest. The tanned skin is marked by the beginnings of black bruising down one side of my rib cage. His large fingers are surprising soft and warm as he runs them over each bone.

“ARGGGH! Fuck!” I scream when he touches the broken rib. He rubs over it, making me curse and scream even more. “What the fuck are you doing?! It’s bloody broken!” I cry. Tears burn my eyes again, and Angel pulls away to pick up the antiseptic.

“Actually, I think it’s just fractured.” He smoothes some cream on my chest and then takes up the bandages.

“Oh yeah, and you’re a doctor,” I scoff.

“I’ve had a couple of broken ribs in my time,” Angel answers calmly.

“Oh,” I reply unsure of what else I should say. This young man is totally doing my head in. I mean I usually don’t have any trouble talking to people, or saying what I think. But around this stunning hustler, I’m feeling lost for words. He makes me feel strange and uneasy, but comfortable at the same time. We don’t speak as he starts to tape up my ribs, wrapping the bandage tightly around my chest. He is damn good at it too, just tight enough to help the pain, but at the same time allowing me to breathe.

“Better?” he asks, as he ties off the bandage.

“Yeah, thanks,” I mumble. I think the pain has finally gotten to me, and my eyes start to close.

“Lie down a moment and I’ll get you some water.” Angel helps me to back down onto the bed, and as soon as my head hits the pillow, I fall into a deep sleep.

~*~*~*~

It must have been hours later when I awoke to the sound of voices. I slowly opened my eyes, the right one still swollen but I could just see out of it. My chest ached as I lifted myself up on an elbow to see what the noise was. At the door stands Angel, dressed in sweatpants and T-Shirt, talking to a taller blond haired man. In the man’s hand is a brown paper package, it looks like he’s trying to get Angel to take it.

“Come on, Angel-baby. I know you can’t be without it for long. How long has it been now? A couple of days?”

“I can’t...” Angel mumbles in return. He’s not the type of person I would have expected to be pushed around by anyone. He gives off an air of being totally in control of himself and his own destiny.

“Angel look, I’ll give you a little starter and then tomorrow you can have the rest at a reduced price.” He man leans forward suddenly and I realise I’ve been spotted. He gives me a luscious grin, licking his fleshy lips. “Come on, Angel! You have a customer waiting. Hey, I thought you didn’t like to sleep with them after? He paying you extra?”

Angel looks a little confused and gives me a quick glance. I see something reflected in his eyes. They are such old eyes for a man that couldn’t be more than twenty-one or two. I’m suddenly wondering if I’ve read him wrong. Maybe he’s weak and just a junkie without any character at all. Yet, I just didn’t feel that around him. Angel felt strong and honest, and well, I just wanted to know him. I wanted to know how a gorgeous man like him would end up on the streets... no, hold that thought. I know how, I bet many would and do pay to touch him. I don’t know what it is, but I just want to learn more about him. Also I really want to know what the pile of canvasses on the floor is. As I look around, I notice a whole pile of old books next to the closet door. My attention is caught by a title that stands out - `the complete works of Shakespeare`. Angel looks to be educated as well. Next to them is an open cupboard and a couple of home made dumbbells. I guess he uses them to keep in good shape. Yes, I’ve noticed how well muscled and proportioned he is. He’s pale, so he doesn’t jog outside or anything, but he has to keep healthy in some other way.

“Malloy, no!” Angel’s startled voice calls out, drawing my attention back to their conversation.

I look over to the door and notice that this Malloy is roughly shaking Angel by the arms. “I paid for this place, Angel. I found it for you. I got your first customer. Now take the fucking bag, and you’ll work off what you owe me.”

“I don’t want it!” Angel shouts back.

Malloy pulls Angel forward and kisses him harshly, painfully biting into Angel’s smooth pink lips.

“No!” Angel cries, true fear marking his voice. He tries to push the larger man away, but he seems afraid to fight. Why?

“Don’t make me put you in your place again, Angel. I give you protection, bring you what you need, and you had better fucking well respect me, or you know what happens,” Malloy growls out, his eyes flashing with psychotic anger. He pushes Angel away, causing him to fall back against the door and throws the little bag into Angel’s face. Angel grabs it angrily, but doesn’t throw it back at Malloy. He keeps it. For some reason, this saddens me more than it should.

When Malloy is gone, Angel slams the door shut and picks up the nearest object - a plate - to throw at the wall. That’s when he notices me staring at him. He seems to calm instantly, and puts the plate down.

“It’s morning. The streets are a lot safer now,” Angel starts, throwing my T-shirt over to me, “and I’ll give you twenty bucks. Is that enough to get you home?”

Angel turns away and starts fingering the brown paper bag. There is a slight tremble in his body, and his large shoulders seem to have dropped, making his body stoop as if in protection. He doesn’t look like the same person that helped me last night. He was strong, silent and unwavering. This one is afraid, low and unsure.

“Why didn’t you fight back?” I ask, pulling on my shirt.

Angel laughs harshly. “Don’t ask about things you know nothing about, boy,” he answers back.

“What this Malloy chap must be around 40 plus, not in great shape, surely you could take him. I mean look at you...” Damn, I wish I hadn’t said that because I’m really looking. Horribly enough, I like what I see. “You’re fit; you don’t have to take his crap.”

“I can’t,” Angel whispers softly, “you don’t know anything.”

“What, he’s your pimp or someth... Oh,” I guess I hit the nail on the head there. Now that’s not what I expected. I thought only women had them.

Angel doesn’t answer, but starts to look around in a couple of coffee tins and pulls out a roll of bills. Nothing big, a couple of twenties and plenty of dollars. He throws one over to me, along with my T-Shirt. “Here’s the money, now get out.”

Angel vanishes out of the open door and I hear his footsteps running down the alley. I dress in silence and pick up the twenty. I really hate taking it. From the looks of it, Angel really doesn’t have any money to spare, but I do have the problem of not having a cent to get me home. I feel like I am stealing from him, but it was freely given. So why do I feel so bad? Why the fuck should I care? I mean, this isn’t the first time I’ve taken stuff. I steal money from my uncle all the time, drinks from the corner store, stuff from school, but I've never felt bad about it. Why do I feel so damn guilty about Angel giving me twenty bucks?

I get dressed, wincing from the pain in my ribs. They feel better this morning; maybe Angel was right about them not being broken. I grab up the twenty, and I’m about to leave when something catches my eye - the stack of paintings in the corner of the room. The light is dull, so I grab hold of a couple and carry them over to the door. In the morning light, I examine my find.

“Bloody hell!” I cry. These are damn amazing! The paintings are done in soft, muted tones of watercolours, but they are... well, they are just amazing. What do you call art that makes you stop breathing? The pictures are entirely of the one girl. She couldn’t be anymore than 16 at the time, with dark brown eyes and wavy brunette hair. All of them are painted in sunlight, making her look like an angel with skin that glows with light and life. She’s very pretty and delicate. Each drawing of her is perfect in every way. Every line of her face, every curve of her body. The colours of her hair and skin make it look like she could jump from the painting and come alive before my very eyes.

There is one drawing of her dancing - a ballerina pointe. The picture catches my attention because at the bottom of the canvas is a signature. The name is Liam O‘Branbudh, signed 1999. Is Liam the same person as Angel? If so, then where is the girl in these drawings? And why the hell is he working on the streets when he can draw like this?

Okay, Angel has my interest peaked. I put the paintings back where I found them, and find an old scrap of paper and a pen.

To Angel, or is it Liam?

Thanks for the twenty bucks. I will repay you, expect me.

The guy you helped and didn’t bother asking for a name. By the way, it’s Spike.

Okay, so I wasn’t sure what to write. I didn’t want to come across as being bothered about him, or sorry about his situation. I did wonder about what name to write however. Should I have written Will? Everyone calls me Spike now, apart from my uncle, but I’m not sure if I want Angel to call me that. Don’t ask me why, I don’t know. I leave the note on the bed, and walk out off Angel’s dirty slum. I close the door behind me, and I wonder if I shall see him again. For some reason I really hope so.

5th March 2002

Finally! I’ve been in the shit house for over a week now and have been released, at last. My uncle was absolutely fucking furious when I came home after my night on the town. Not only had I lost my bike, my money and everything else, I cost him a small fortune in medical bills for a bruised rib. He was far from pleased. I mean he had to take time out from his all-important work and take me to the hospital. Of course, it was all my fault I was beaten up and left bike-less. On returning home from the hospital, I was instantly grounded for a week. It became longer when I screamed and argued with him about how it wasn’t my fault. He never listens to me and detention was extended to 10 days.

Now, with my freedom I can finally repay my debt. I haven’t forgotten about Angel. Actually, he’s never been far from my mind. I can’t help but think about him - his face, his lips, and his eyes. Even when Drusilla broke up with me, I wasn’t really thinking about her but him. I think there is something seriously wrong with me.

So with my release I borrow my uncle’s car (without telling him) knowing he won’t miss it. He walks to the university and he’s never home during work. I fill up with petrol, steal twenty dollars, drive down the freeway to LA and a certain dirty alley. I arrived around late noon and set about finding Angel’s humble abode. I got a little lost, but while looking around, I spotted the same man dressed in drag, that had shouted at Angel the other night.

“Hey you,” I shout, and the man turns in my direction.

“You looking for me, honey?” he asks, putting on his best sexy voice. It sounds a little ridiculous and I have to hold back my laughter.

“Kinda, I’m actually looking for Angel. Do you know where he is?”

The man’s shoulders hunch and he looks disgusted at me. “He’s busy at the moment,” he nods down an alley and casually walks away.

I’m not really sure what he means, but I don’t stop to think. I just walk down into the alley and stop dead.

There before me is Angel giving another man a blow-job. He’s on his knees in a filthy alley, his hands resting on the man’s hips. Strong fingers grip Angel’s hair as said man thrusts his hard dick in and out of Angel’s mouth. Angel’s eyes are closed and there is a look of... pain upon his face. His body is tense and stiff, but he sucks and licks rigorously as he strives to get the man to cum. After a couple more vigorous sucks he does, and fills Angel’s mouth with creamy cum.

“Pretty boy,” the man murmurs as his softening cocks slips from Angel’s mouth. He touches the soft cheek, but Angel pulls away as if the caress repulsed him. “Same time next week?” asks the man.

Angel just nods and gets thrown a couple of bills. He shoves them into his pocket and then looks up... straight into my eyes. The other man doesn’t even notice I’m here, just walks away whistling a happy tune in his post-orgasmic bliss. Angel does see me and stares, a look of disbelief and... disgust in his eyes.

“I brought you the money,” I mumble in surprise. I hold out my hand with the twenty bucks and Angel stares at it. For a moment, I don’t think he’s going to take it. He seems to be in as much shock as I am. I’m not sure why. Maybe from being caught giving a blowjob, or maybe from the fact that someone actually brought his money back. After a long time, Angel reaches forward and snatches away the money.

“Thanks,” he chokes out, and then shoves past me, running down the alley and towards home. Of course, I have to follow.

Angel runs back to his room, throws open the door and flies into the bathroom. I enter behind him and listen as he heaves and chokes. I hear the water running and then Angel comes back out looking 5 shades paler. He gets himself a drink of water and then turns to face me.

“I...err... Thanks for...”

“It’s okay,” I answer. He looks so uncomfortable trying to talk to me.

“I... err... didn’t think you would... err... come back...” he whispers.

“I said I would,” I reply. I sit down on the bed, making Angel look even more uncertain.

I look around in the uncomfortable silence. I notice that Angel has used the brown paper bag, or it’s another one. A syringe lies broken and bloodstained on the table, with a candle and spoon next to it. Angel notices my observation and rubs his arm nervously.

I’m about to ask him if he’s okay when there is a sudden knock on the door. Angel almost jumps out of his skin and turns to open it. Outside is the same man in drag I talked to on the street.

“Angel man, you’re in deep shit! Malloy is out looking for you.”

“Thanks for the warning, Jerome,” Angel smiles and closes the door again.

“You okay?” I ask, noticing how his body tightened at the mention of Malloy’s name.

“Fine,” he lies.

Now how did I know that? There is something about his eyes when those words past his lips. I just knew it wasn’t the truth.

“You should go now,” Angel opens the door and stands patiently beside it. “Thanks for keeping your promise.”

“Angel, run away from this Malloy. You can fight him, you...”

“Please... You don’t understand. Things aren’t that simple... Please go...” he pleads, looking around nervously.

Why the hell doesn’t he fight? I mean he’s big, young and strong. I’m guessing that he doesn’t take shit from anyone else. He stands his ground. He exhibits that type of personality. Surely, I’m not that wrong about him. There is something about Angel that pulls at me. Something that makes me forget all the things I want to try to be. I just want to be around him. I want to know him; I want him to know who I am. I’ve never felt like this around anyone, not even my parents. With them I was trying to be someone else. A movie star, a tough biker, I even learned the cockney accent to make it sound like I was from the rougher part of London. With Angel I even forget that accent.

I did think about fighting him, but I know I won’t get anywhere. I don’t intend to leave and not come back. I’m just going to do as he says and I‘ll be back around to see him later. When I have a good argument to get him to leave. Even if I have to pay for time with him, I will. I leave with a curt nod, and Angel closes the door behind me.

Suddenly, I get an idea. I run towards the place where Jerome stands and find him waiting there. If Angel won’t talk to me, maybe he will.

Four hours later and I still haven’t learned anything useful about Angel. Jerome doesn’t even know his real name. I did learn that Angel might have been doing this for about two years. Since he was 18, which would make him twenty now. I also found out that Malloy is a complete bastard and has a lot of hustler’s under his *wing* as he calls it. Unfortunately, many of them don’t have a very long life span and usually end up dead from an overdose. Malloy keeps them under him because they can never pay off what they owe him. He supplies them with drugs, then more drugs until they are forever trying to pay him off. Angel is addicted to heroin. He’s tried to quit a few times. That’s when Malloy turns up on his doorstep and strong-arms him into having more.

I was also correct about Angel not taking anyone else’s crap. Jerome told me a tale of Angel standing up for another hustler, beating up a man twice his weight and size. Angel’s customers don’t beat him around, he doesn’t take their shit. He’s a total good soul as Jerome puts it. Jerome is obviously jealous of Angel’s charm and looks, pulling in the paying men and women without having to do much of the legwork. Angel spends his free time reading, or helping out the local shelter.

I knew I was right about him! I just knew it. I knew Angel wouldn’t take shit from anyone. So why doesn’t he just fight off his good for nothing pimp? I still haven’t found out about the girl in the paintings. Nor how Angel arrived here two years. Concerning his personal past, Jerome has no ideas. In the end, I pay for Jerome’s dinner and for his time. Then, I decide to go face Angel.

I know I shouldn’t be doing this. I know I should just mind my own business. Forget about him. I mean he’s just a whore. He’s hardly said 10 words to me, but for some reason the other night he saved me. I just can’t forget that. I can’t forget the concern in his eyes, his gentle fingers and soft husky voice. I can’t forget him.

It’s getting dark when I reach Angel’s room. To my amazement the door is slightly ajar so I peek inside. Without doubt Angel wouldn’t have left it open and gone out. I don’t think he’d be so careless. Angel’s pretty streetwise even if he does have a kind heart. I open the door wider and look inside. It’s pitch black, the curtains are drawn over a tiny window and there are no lights on.

“Angel?” I call into the darkness. Nothing. Not a sound. I mean it’s not like he couldn’t hear me. He’s only got the one room and a bathroom. I try and find a light switch, but when I do the bulb remains dead. I’m about to turn and leave when I suddenly hear a stifled sob. “Angel!” I shout again, this time with an added edge of panic to my voice.

I reach into my back pocket, and pull out the lighter I use for the fags my uncle never allows me to smoke in his house. I flick the flint and it ignites the gas. The room is illuminated around me and I advance inside. I find the small candle Angel uses for his habit and light it. The light is stronger now and I look over at the bed. I almost wish I hadn’t.

“Angel,” I gasp. I almost feel like throwing up as he did earlier.

Angel sobs louder at the sound of my voice and covers his eyes with his arm. I wish to god I hadn’t seen this. I wish I had never left him. I should have stayed, refused to leave until I had spoken to him. But at the time what could I say? I want to know you? I dream about you? I can’t stop thinking about the colour of your eyes? Yeah, right. I’d sound a real pervert.

A part of my mind doesn’t want to process what I see. I don’t want to see my Angel lying broken and bleeding on the bed. I do however, and I can’t look away. Someone has raped him. His hands are still tied to the centre pole of his bedstead, his body covered in bruises and lacerations. The bed is coated in his vomit and blood. But the worse part is his back. His firm buttocks and thighs are smeared with blood and cum. I casually notice a blue etched mythological creature on his back with a ‘A’ below it. Under that someone has cut a ‘M’ into his skin.

*M*

“Fucking bastard!” I scream.

Angel’s sobs become louder with my words. I suddenly realise that he thinks I’m shouting at him. I’m not. I’ve just worked out who did this. I know why Angel was afraid. Malloy did this. This is what that fucking pimp meant. Angel didn’t show the right respect, he tried to stop his habit. So to keep him under control - Malloy raped him.

“Angel!” I sob. My heart breaking for this man I don’t know, yet feel the deepest of connections. Why the hell did I leave him!? “Angel!” I cry out again, pain breaking through my voice. In an instant, I move into action. I search desperately for a pair of scissors or a knife. Upon finding a reasonable kitchen knife - I cut into Angel’s plastic hand ties. They have been tied so tight his fingers are blue, so I rub them urgently while trying to get his circulation going again. He trembles and moans under my touch, but I won’t allow him to pull away. At this moment I don’t think he can. His buttocks are covered in fresh blood, and he weeps brokenly into the dirty linen.

I can’t leave him here. I can’t leave him to that prick who might come back and finish him off. I won’t let anyone touch Angel again...ever! I run into the bathroom and damp a couple of towels. With one, I wipe the blood and vomit from his body, and the other I place between his buttocks. He moans and cries out but I press it down hard. I have no idea how to help him, but I remember from my first aid course at school that pressure should stop the bleeding. My touch seems to alarm Angel even more, so I roll him over on his back and that holds the towel in place.

Angel doesn’t do anything to stop me, or move for himself. He just lies there as I start working my way around his room. What am I doing? I’m fucking packing! He’s not staying here. He’s leaving... with me. My uncle has lots of room at his house. It’s a big house on Rodeo Road with a spare room we don’t use. Angel can stay there until he’s healed. He can stay forever if he wants. He’s just not living in this hellhole another moment.

“Are you robbing me?” a soft voice asks from the bed.

I turn around and face him. His eyes are swollen with tears, but he opens them enough to see me. Does he really think I would do that? I guess that in his line of work you don’t trust anyone.

“You’re leaving,” I tell him in my firmest voice.

“What? I can’t... I belong here...” he sobs.

“What the fuck are you talking about? How can anyone belong here? It’s just a room, Angel!” I shout back.

“No... I deserve this... I deserve...” his weeping becomes louder and broken. His body shaking with pain, shock and... guilt? He keeps mumbling that phrase over and over. “I deserve this...”

What does he mean? He deserves to be raped? A whore? No one deserves to be used, torn and beaten no matter what they have done. Jerome called Angel a good soul and I’ll never see him any differently. In a city where people walk by the starving, dying and injured on the street every day, Angel didn’t. He helped me. He gave me money to get home. He doesn’t deserve this life. In my heart... my soul... I know that. I don’t care that I’m trying to be tough. That I want to be known as Spike, the big bad. At this moment I’m Will, and I want to help my future friend.

Angel is quiet as I collect his stuff together and place it next to the door. He really doesn’t have that much at all. His most prized possessions seem to be his books and paintings. His clothing, bed linen and other items are cheap and in poor state. I do find one cleanish sheet and cover him with it. I help wrap it around his bleeding body and leave him lying on the bed.

“I’m just going to fetch the car, Angel. I promise I’ll be back.” For the first time I touch him. I rest my hand on his cheek and his damp eyes look up into mine. He doesn’t flinch away from me, but in fact, seems to calm at my words. He turns over on his side and closes his eyes. I look back as I’m leaving and he hasn’t moved. Please don’t be broken, Angel. Please be okay...

It doesn’t take me long to bring the car back, but I do have a little trouble trying to get it down the tight alley. I’ll be in deep shit with my uncle if I scratch it. With a little shuffling I manage to park the car outside Angel’s door, and while doing so Jerome appears. He asks what’s happening, and I tell him the truth. It doesn’t surprise him. To my astonishment he helps me pack Angel’s stuff in the car, and in the end assists me in lifting Angel up - and he’s bloody heavy - and into the front seat. Angel’s first action is to check where his canvasses are. When he sees I’ve laid them safely on the back seat, he relaxes.

“Good luck, Angel and don’t come back,” Jerome tells him as he smiles through the car window. He doesn’t say anything about what happened, he knows and understands. He has seen the blood on Angel’s sheet.

“Thanks,” Angel mumbles as he curls up, more tears threatening to fall.

Jerome smiles and pulls me away from the car. “Look man, don’t ever let him come back. This job will kill him. Angel’s not cut out for this. Oh, he’s strong, pretty and has a damn good mouth, but it’s killing him. He doesn't belong here, he never has done.”

“I won’t let him come back,” I promise. “Thanks for the help, Jerome.” Jerome waves and swaggers down the alley to his corner of the street. I can’t believe I’ve just thanked another person. This is going against all my big bad routine. First, I help Angel, then I end up buying a drag queen lunch just to find out about Angel and now I’m taking Angel home with me. What the hell am I thinking? I turn back and look at the figure curled up on the front seat. He looks so small and damaged... Okay, I know why.

When I arrived home, a lot later than I expected, I was dreading finding my uncle standing at the door, waiting for me with another of his tedious lectures. I was surprised when I discovered the house dark and deserted. Angel was asleep so I left him a moment in the garage while I checked out this unexpected development. My uncle wasn’t home, but there was a message on the answer machine. It seems he’s staying late to grade papers and tells me not to expect him early. What a bloody relief!

I turn my attention back to Angel and gently awaken him. He looks to be completely out of it, but with a lot of struggling I manage to get him inside and up into the spare room. He’s asleep as soon as his head hits the pillow. I just have to watch him a moment to get it into my head that he’s really here. In my house, with me. Angel is here. I know I don’t really know him. I might end up hating him, but I really doubt it. He looks so young at this moment. His face pained even in sleep, his body trembling with the aftermath of shock and violence. I don’t stop myself reaching over and touching his soft hair. I stroke the damp locks away from his face, across his fine cheekbones, then allow my fingers to glide over his lips. He’s so angelic, even now.

Suddenly, I pull away. This can’t be happening! I can’t be falling for another man. Not me! Not Spike - the big bad. I can’t! He’s... he’s... oh, shit. Angel turns in his sleep, stretching out one arm and it brushes against my leg. A tingle travels the length of my body directly to my aching cock. The truth is I’ve been half-hard all night. Ever since my first view of naked Angel. I tried not to think it about at the time. Hell, he’d just been raped! I thought I shouldn’t contemplate the sight of him naked... and so bloody perfect. Okay, there was a tiny twinge of jealously. He is bloody well hung, must be at least 10 inches of perfect, pale, straight cock attached to him. With large round balls nestling in a sea of thick dark pubic hair. And for the rest of his body - well, I think anyone shagging him must have thought they had caught some kind of god. Great muscle tone, perfect abs tapering to a chiselled stomach, lithe hips and toned legs. What I really like however, is the fact that his chest is almost hairless and he as the cutest little brown nipples. Bloody hell! Did I just think the word ‘cute’?! Good grief, Angel is reducing me to mush, and he hasn’t even done anything yet!

I drag myself away from his room to allow him to sleep off his traumatic experience. I unpack the car and pile whatever I think Angel should keep in his bedroom. I get rid of the old dirty clothing... and that’s when I come across the brown paper bag. I don’t open it. I really don’t want to look inside. I don’t want to see what Angel has been pumping into his body. I decide to flush it down the toilet but for some reason I don’t. Instead, I hide it in an old tea box in my room. Then I forget about it.

6th March 2002

I hate Wednesdays. They are smack bang in the middle of the week and I have two more hellish days at school to go. Thank god, I’m eighteen now and will be graduating in a few months. I’m counting down the days. I slide out of bed, and pull on some black jeans and T-shirt. It’s then I remember... Angel! I race out of my bedroom and into his... it’s empty! The bed is made, the bloodied sheet gone and so is he. No! Shit!

“Damn it!” I yell.

“William! You’re going to be late for school again!” my uncle shouts from downstairs. I hate him calling me that!

I run down, thinking Angel might have left a message, when I discover the most amazing apparition. There in the kitchen sits my uncle eating eggs, toast and bacon. At the stove, stands Angel who’s flipping over another omelette. Angel! He’s still here... cooking for my uncle!

“Angel,” I gasp, uncomprehending the sight before me.

Angel turns and smiles shyly as he puts the omelette on a plate and hands it to me. I take it without really thinking and sit down. He gets himself some breakfast and limps over to the table. I wince at the pain in his eyes and how carefully he lowers himself into the chair.

“Morning, William,” he grins as he picks at his eggs. I don’t like the gleeful look when he said my name. I get the joke. We share the same name. Liam being Irish for William and mine the English Will.

“William,” my uncle scolds as he continues eating, “Angel and I have been having a little chat.”

Oh shit!

“I really do wish you would tell me when we are having lodgers. I know we discussed it, but you really must inform me when someone asks to rent the room. Fortunately for Angel, he’s a very good cook and a very well mannered lad. You could learn something from him.”

“Thank you, sir,” Angel replies to Giles’s compliment. I do notice the smirk on his face, and I can’t stop myself smiling. Oh yeah, I bet Uncle Rupert would love me to tell him what Angel did for a living.

“Oh dear, is that the time? I really must go, and William please don’t be late again!” Giles swallows the last mouthful of food and grabs his briefcase, running out of the kitchen, slamming the front door behind him. Beside me, Angel started to chuckle.

“What are you laughing at,” I scold, tasting my breakfast for the first time. It’s really very good.

“You’re uncle is so uptight. I was going to leave but he caught me, so I pretended to get breakfast. He thought I was a friend of yours, but I told him I was staying in the spare room and he automatically believed you had rented me a room.” He laughs some more and pulls out a piece of paper from his pocket. “He gave me this. They are house rules and regulations,” Angel chuckles, almost choking on his food.

I’m a little hurt that he said he was leaving, but thankfully that didn’t happen. I take the paper from him and read the first line. “No girls after ten.” “No heavy snoring.” I can’t help but laugh right along with Angel. I can’t believe my uncle actually wrote this down. When I calm down, I look seriously into his dark lusty eyes.

“Angel, don’t leave,” I plead.

“Spike... Will, I can’t stay. I’m not worth the effort. I can’t pay you. I don’t have a lot of money and I can’t work around here for more.” Angel looks down at his hands. All of a sudden, he looks self-doubting and very afraid again.

“You helped me, Angel. Let me help you.” I reach over the table and tenderly touch his fingers. I really had no intention of touching him, it just happened. My body is acting on it’s own desires without my head’s consent. Angel doesn’t pull away however, but doesn’t answer me. “Look just stay a week until you’re healed. You can’t do anything like this.”

“Okay,” he whispers agreeing to my words. “What did you do with my clothes?” he asks, his eyes suddenly filling with life again.

“I threw them out!”

“Spike! I don’t have anymore!”

“They were torn and dirty. Look, I’ll pick you up some jeans and T-Shirts at this cheap place I know. Then you can promise to go and see my Doctor.” Okay, where the hell did that come from?

“Doctor? I can’t see a Doctor, Spike. I’m a whore... I...” Angel looks away from me and tries to stand up. He winces in pain and sits back down again.

“You have some money to pay for a Doctor, Angel. Please...”

After a long conversation of trying to get the most stubborn person I’ve ever known to do something in his own interest, I finally wear him down and he agrees to see the a doctor. I skip another day of school and drive him down to the surgery. I trust this doctor. He’s middle aged and has treated enough teenagers not to ask stupid questions. While Angel is there, I go to the local clothing store and pick up a few bits. It’s strange, but I feel almost euphoric buying clothes for Angel. Its usually an activity I hate doing.

Angel isn’t happy when he comes out of the surgery and rubs a new plaster on his arm. At first, I thought drugs but then remembered where he’d just been. I notice Angel’s concern.

“What happened?”

“It’s a blood test,” he sighs, “for HIV.” Angel leaves me standing there in shock as he goes to the chemist to get some cream and antibiotics.

HIV... AIDS... Oh god... No, not Angel. Please, this is even worse than seeing him raped. Please no... I feel tears pick my eyes and I shiver in fear. I really have to get a hold of myself. I can’t do this. I can’t feel this for him. It’s ripping me apart! He’s breaking down all the barriers I built so nobody ever hurts me again. Since my parents died, I never wanted to love another soul. Never! I never loved Dru, or other girl’s I’ve dated. I’ll never lose anyone I care for again! So why the hell does this news scare the living shit out of me!?

8th March 2002

Today, I really wanted to escape school. My hated computer teacher gave me detention. I’ve just been so out of it all day. I can’t concentrate on the work, all I think about is Angel... Angel... and then Angel some more. I’m really furious about being late, but my anger is forgotten when I arrive home to find the house looking a complete mess.

“Angel?” I shout, running around the house as I desperately search for him. “Angel!”

“William!” My uncle calls from upstairs.

Oh, shit! I run up the stairs and directly into Angel’s room. I stop dead at the door and just stare.

“Will, go get a wet flannel and a glass of water, Now!” Giles shouts at me, as I stand frozen at the door.

With all kinds of frightening thoughts running through my head, I stumble into the bathroom and wet a flannel. As I do I notice the toilet seat up and covered with white powder. No! Shit, no! Oh, bugger. Why the hell didn’t I destroy it before? Angel must have been looking for it. Now, Giles is certainly going to throw him out if he knows Angel is an drug addict.

I run back into the bedroom and give him the flannel. “Uncle Rupert, it isn’t what you think. Angel doesn’t...” What can I say? Angel did use it. Oh, please be okay. “Is he... is it an overdose?” I whimper, fearful of his reply.

“What?” My uncle stares at me with wide eyes. “Oh no... no. He’s suffering from withdrawal symptoms. I came home early and found him shaking and delirious in the bathroom. It looks like he tried to find what you had hidden, and then flushed it down the toilet.”

Angel moans loudly and struggles on the bed. He is sweating profusely, yet his skin is covered in gooseflesh.

“Huh?”

“Will, pay attention! Now go ring Doctor Summers and tell him that Angel has been vomiting, has severe convulsions, abdominal cramps, and profuse sweating, but his heartbeat is strong and regular.”

I do as Giles tells me, acting on automatic as I ring the doctor and give him the full details of Angel’s condition. I tell him that Angel was a user, but he had been cutting down, and has now given up. Doctor Summers takes this as good news and says the withdrawal might not be as severe as if he were a heavy user.

The next few hours are the worst of my short life. Uncle Rupert would not allow me in Angel’s room while the Doctor was there, but when he left they seemed pleased with Angel’s condition. Doctor Summers gives my uncle some drugs and tells him Angel needs to be watched constantly for the next 48 hours. My uncle agrees and finally allows me inside.

Angel is asleep on the bed, curled up and sweaty. His body trembles now and then, but he seems more relaxed. Giles sits down in the only chair in the room, so I sit on the bed next to Angel.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asks.

“Oh yeah! I can see that. Oh, Uncle Rupert, this is Angel from LA and he’s a heroin addict, but he’s trying to give it up.”

“I’m not stupid, Will!” he yells back. “I wasn’t always as you see me now. When I was younger I did a lot of stupid teenage pranks. I tried the drugs your friend used. Fortunately, I came around before it became an addiction. I’m not going to throw him out just because of that. As long as he keeps off it, he is welcome in my house.”

Well colour me stupid. I don’t say a word. I just gawk at him. I can’t process the words that have just fallen from my uncle’s mouth. I can’t ever imagine him doing anything as stupid as trying drugs. I mean look at him, little wire glasses and tweed suits. Please!

“He won’t go back on it,” I promise.

“I know. He threw them away. He’s doing this himself, and that way he’ll get through it.” Giles stands up and hands me a bottle of tablets. “This is Methodone. It’s to help him recover from the withdrawal symptoms quicker. I’m holding you responsible, Will. Make sure he takes them.” With that he leaves and closes the door behind him.

“Wow!” I whisper. Giles trusts me! I mean he actually trusts me! Also, he didn’t throw Angel out. What the hell is he on? At this moment, however, I can’t think about that. I can only consider how I nearly lost Angel. I lie down on the bed and turn to face him. “I won’t leave you,” I whisper softly into his ear.

19th March 2002

Wow! I’ve been living in the same house with Angel for the last couple of weeks, and it’s damn amazing. Well, apart from the little episode with the Heroin, but Giles has said nothing about it since. Angel takes his medication and hasn’t once mentioned or looked into having another fix. I knew he had a strong character. Even my uncle has noticed the changes in Angel and me. For one, I haven’t been out all week. I go to school, and then I come home to spend more time with the lodger. Angel is uncomfortable about staying here, and he’s quickly running out of money, having paid Giles for his lodging. Giles even reduced it because Angel does all the cooking now. I was going to lie and give him my own money, but Angel won’t accept that. I can’t bear the thought of him leaving.

I spend all my time with Angel. I know he’s healing well, and hardly has any limp at all. We talk about all kinds of things, but one area he totally avoids is his past. I don’t know any more about him than I did when I first started this journey. I’m learning all about him. He hates yoghurt. He loves chocolate but tries to avoid it because of gaining weight. He adores a good action film, and Charlton Heston is his favourite actor. He can quote poetry. He knows martial arts and every morning I watch him do Tai Chi. I’ve also discovered he’s a bloody prankster. He couldn’t stop laughing at me when he put toilet blue in the soap dispenser, and I ended up with blue hands for a bloody day. In the end, I scrubbed them with bleach which left them white and raw. I couldn’t help but laugh with him, he’s so damn beautiful with laughing eyes, and that amazing 100-watt smile. The trouble is, you can’t pull the wool over his eyes. Not once have any of my pranks worked on Angel. Bloody good plans, unfortunately he just has this natural talent of messing them up. With Angel, my scheming never works, so I’ve begun to stick to the straight and narrow with him. The strange thing is, I like being this way. I like trusting him, talking to him, telling him things I’ve never told a soul. I like coming home to him. Sitting on the sofa next to his strong warm body as he stares at another re-run of the Omega man.

Oh shit! No! Bugger! I think I’m falling in love with him.

This morning was no different to any other. We have a routine now. Angel makes breakfast, my uncle and I eat it and then Giles goes off to work. It’s so strange, but we haven’t argued once since Angel came. After breakfast, Angel and I talk about what we are doing and plan the evening. I go to school and then come back home to him. Today however, something changed. The first change - a letter arrived.

At first I thought nothing off it. It was addressed to Angel, care of myself. The return address was my surgery and I never considered what it might be, I just handed it over. It was then I noticed something wrong. Angel hadn’t moved. He just stood there, holding this letter with a shaking hand, and staring at it as if it contained poison. Then I knew.

“Shall I... do you want me to...” I ask, my voice trembling.

Angel immediately nods and I take the letter. With shaking hands I rip it open, carelessly tearing the letter within, finally pulling it out. I skip over the introduction and then...

In seconds, Angel is in my arms. I grab him to me and plant a firm, hard kiss onto his lips. My arms encircle his strong back and I hold him tightly. I kiss him again, but Angel tries to stop me.

“What?” he asks startled.

“Negative!” I shout. I kiss him and this time his mouth opens to my questing tongue. They entwine and we kiss with a passion I’ve never known. His mouth is warm, wet and soft. His tongue fights with mine, licking at my teeth and palette while I try to taste his. His hand slides up into my hair and he tilts my head trying to dive deeper inside my mouth. I moan loudly. Oh yeah, I’m kissing Angel. Angel is kissing me.

After a long 10 minutes, we finally break apart. My cock is hard and throbbing. All I want is to touch him more. I want to... no, wait... No, I don’t want to make love to him! I’m not gay! Yet, that was the most mind-blowing kiss I’ve ever experienced. He tasted like sweet wine, as smooth as honey. Ohhhh... I kiss him again, just to taste his lips.

“You should go,” he whispers, carefully disengaging his tongue from my mouth.

“Yeah,” I answer, not really listening.

Angel draws away and gives me a sad smile. He hands me my bag and returns back to the kitchen. Damn it! I wish I knew what he was thinking. I hope he doesn’t believe I was trying to come on to him. I want to, yes, but I want to love him. I don’t just want sex... Just shut up! I yell at my head. This is all too much. I can’t take anymore. I need time to think about what I do want from Angel. What I really feel for him. Was it just relief that he wasn’t HIV positive or something deeper?

Later:

I was so ecstatic when school was over. It has been the longest bloody day of my life. All I've done is think about Angel. Again! About him, me and what I want. Which I still haven’t decided upon. I really liked kissing him, touching him, and being with him. But do I want to take it further? Do I want to have sex with him? Then comes the big question about him even wanting me that way. I don’t want this to be one sided. I don’t want him to feel like a whore. Bugger! I don’t know what to do.

I take the long walk home, and as I do pass an artists’ shop I’ve never noticed before. In the front window is a watercolour set on offer with a proper watercolour paper pad free. Without even thinking about what I’m doing, I buy it. Oh shit, now I’m buying him presents! He’ll probably think I’m trying to buy myself into his life, his bed or something. Someone just shoot me!

My Uncle is grading papers again, so it’s just Angel there when I arrive home. I find him sitting in the kitchen trying to work out his money. He’s so totally engrossed by his figures that he doesn’t notice me. One thing, I have learned about Angel is that he’s hopeless with numbers. Oh, he can read, and is incredibly intelligent. I’ll bet that if he had finished high school, he would have had no problem graduating. Apart from the maths problem. That’s when I have an idea.

“Angel, I found you a job,” I call as I pretend to walk in for a second time. I didn’t want him to think I’d been spying on him.

“Huh?” he jumps up, knocking the chair over. “Don’t do that!” he scolds when he sees who it is. He slaps my arm gently and my skin tingles with the contact. “What do you mean, found a job? I can’t do anything...”

“Yes, you can.” I dump the watercolour set on the table and he sits down. “I’ve seen your paintings, Angel. You’re fucking brilliant. I can’t see any trouble in you selling them. There’s even an art gallery run by Doctor Summer’s wife in town, I’m sure she could sell some. Then you could stay here, and not go back...”

“I can’t!” Angel cries. I look up amazed and notice tears in his eyes.

“Why? Angel, what you did before... well, it shouldn’t have interfered with your ability to paint.”

“I can’t! Please, don’t ask me. I can’t!” Angel shoves the paints of the table and runs up the stairs, slamming his door closed behind him.

“Just fucking great!” I yell, my anger getting the better of me. What the hell is his problem? I stomp up the stairs behind him, determined to get to the bottom of this. I barge into Angel’s room, almost breaking the door in my fury. Inside I find Angel sitting on the bed staring at the painting of the young brunette girl. Suddenly, a chill passes though me and my anger dies.

“I haven’t painted since her...” Angel whispers, his voice distorted by his tears. “She was so beautiful. I used to love painting her, and she adored being a model. It’s what she wanted to be. A model or a ballet dancer.”

I take a deep calming breath and sit down beside Angel. Without thinking I take his hand into mine, and gently stroke the soft skin. “Who was she?”

“She was my sister.” Angel is silent for a long moment, and I don’t push him. I know he’ll tell me in his own time. I’ve learned that pushing him just makes him close up even more. You just have to wait. Unfortunately, in the past, I haven’t been known for my patience. In fact, Giles considers me the most impatient, foul mouthed person he’s ever known. With Angel however, it’s different. My patience with him is always rewarded.

“Her name was Kathy. My parents brought us both over from Ireland to California in the early 80’s. I can remember Ireland; it was cold and wet, but very beautiful. Kathy couldn’t - she was too young. When we arrived in the US, my mother went in for experimental cancer treatment. It didn’t work and she died only a few weeks later. After that my father went off the deep end and ended up abandoning us. I spent two weeks in our motel room trying to look after my sister. I kept her fed and clean, but in the end the hotel manager reported us and we were taken away by social services. I never saw my father again.” He takes a deep breath and I continue to stroke his hand. “We were put in an orphanage, and we stayed there for a long time. When I was around 13 we were sent to a foster home. I didn’t think they were bad people. They just didn’t have time for us. I looked after my sister and made sure she was happy and safe. It was over year later when on my 15th birthday... when... my foster father first raped me.”

Angel grips my hand almost painfully, but I don’t let go.

“He was drunk at the time, and it didn’t happen again for awhile. I didn’t tell anyone. Kathy was happy, she liked our foster mother, and her school. I didn’t want to rock the boat, so I did nothing. A year later, he returned to my bed. This time I tried to fight him off. I was bigger and stronger, but it wasn’t enough. He told me that if I didn’t allow him to take me, then he’d try my sister out. I just lay there as he came inside me. Then when he left, I knew what I had to do. I packed our things and before dawn, we ran away. Kathy never asked why, she just accepted it. We lived on the streets for a while, and made friends with a young black guy named Gunn. He had a sister too, and both girls got along famously. He found me some work. I packed fish in a market, did some couriering, stuff like that. It wasn’t a lot of money but I could afford to keep a room and buy our food. I could even splash out on buying some paints. I did those.” He indicates over to the paintings.

Angel is silent for a long moment, but I don’t speak. I know he’s getting to the hardest part.

“One day, I thought our luck had changed. I was drawing in the street when this old man walked by and took interest. He brought one of the paintings and paid twenty bucks for it. We were going to celebrate. I’d buy us some extra food and I even promised Kathy chocolate ice cream. We went to the local store, and I let her go choose the ice cream while I picked up some other things. I never even noticed when these two kids came barging in. Then all of a sudden there was shouting and a gun went off. My sister started screaming, and they were yelling at her. I dropped everything and ran towards her...”

Angel chokes on his words and I move closer, offering the comfort of my body. I slide one arm around his waist and he leans towards me.

“They started knocking her around, and then threw her across the floor. She hit her head and started crying. They kept yelling at her to shut up. Then one said that she would be pretty enough to take with them. I just snapped. I started yelling at them to take me. I told them they could do anything, I would suck them off, anything, but just leave her alone! One of them hit me with the gun in the chest and he broke a rib. I went down and then he pointed his gun at my head. I watched as his finger tightened on the trigger. I never thought about me, I was just so scared about Kathy. I kept yelling at her to run, to escape. I heard her stamp on the other man’s foot and he yelled in pain. Then everything happened all at once. Kathy was screaming my name, running towards me. I heard the gun go off, and I knew that at any moment that bullet would be entering my body.”

Angel stops. What does he mean? He was shot? Something more?

“It never came... Kathy... my beautiful Kathy threw herself in front of me. The bullet... it went straight through her... right through her perfect heart... I just knelt there as she fell... I was covered in her blood... I could hear screaming, I think it was me... I felt something hit me then, and I realised that the bullet had passed right through her and into me. It lodged itself into my shoulder, but I couldn’t feel it... I was empty inside. I died the very second she did. I held her, and... and she was so cold... so broken... She looked up at me... big empty eyes... she whispered my name... “Liam”...”

Silence. What can I say? How can I offer comfort? Is ‘I’m sorry’ enough? It can never take his pain from him. Never take the emptiness he feels from the lost of this one perfect young girl.

“I never painted after that. I swore I’d never lift another paintbrush. I couldn’t work for a long time after they took the bullet out. I lost my jobs, my money and ended up on the street again. That’s when Malloy found me. He told me about something that could take away all my pain. I didn’t care what it was at the time, I just wanted the memories to stop. I didn’t want to feel anything anymore. He took me to his home, shot me up and everything went away. Then in the morning he wanted the money. Of course, he knew I didn’t have any. After that he tied me to a bed, and then he and his partners took turns. I didn’t feel anything. I just lay there thinking I deserved this. Kathy died because of me. I couldn’t save her... it was my fault. After I had paid for my fix, Malloy gave me some money, because he said I’d been so pretty and tight. Then took me to stay in one of his whore’s bed-sits. There’re have been times I’ve tried to run away, but I never can get far enough. Malloy always finds me and brings me back. I belong there. He’d rape me, put me in my place, and then let me get on with it. Every week he’d turn up for his cut and rent; he’d give me some more heroin I couldn’t afford. Then it would be the next week and it would start all over again.”

“You didn’t deserve it, Angel,” I tell him, reassuringly squeezing his body to mine.

For the first time Angel responds with emotion. “I did! I killed her!” He jumps up, and starts pacing the room, his body tenses with anger and anguish. “It’s my fault she died. It should have been me! Me! Not her!” he bellows.

“No! She was killed by some thug’s gun, not you. She died saving you! You were more important to her than anything!”

“It should have been me!” he yells back. With a sudden movement, Angel punches the wall, causing plaster to fly up into the air and leaves a big hole. After his energy is gone, he collapses onto the floor and starts to sob into his knees. “It should have been me,” he weeps.

Very slowly, I sit down beside him and pull him into my arms. Angel doesn’t fight me, but eventually lets his arms slide around my waist, with his head resting onto my chest. I stroke my fingers through his thick hair, rubbing my face into its softness.

“I’m so glad it wasn’t you,” I mumble into his hair, “I never want to lose you.”

20th March 2002

When I awoke it wasn’t in my own bed but Angel’s. For a moment I couldn’t work out where I was, but then it all came back to me with frightening clarity. Angel had told me of his past. His private pain. He had opened up to me and afterwards I had held him as he wept. We had moved to the bed then, nothing happened as we had lay together and slept. I carefully stretch my limbs, making sure I don’t disturb my sleeping Angel. His head rests on my chest, and his soft breath caresses my skin. One arm is wrapped around my waist, and his leg presses against mine. His weight feels like heaven next to me. He’s so warm, soft, yet hard at the same time.

I lie awake for a long time just thinking. Angel is only two years older than I am and yet he’s seen and done so much more. Unfortunately, he hasn’t come out of the other end any better off. He’s been raped, abused and forced into drug addiction. He holds himself responsible for his sister’s death. He believes himself guilty of living when she died. Damn, I’m so glad she loved him as much as she did. That she died for him. He can’t see it but that’s what she did. She gave her life to save him. Should I give any less?

Lying here in the arms of the man I’m falling in love with - I’ve decided my future. I’m going to tell Angel I want him. I want to graduate from school, and then I’m going to move in with him somewhere. I want him to paint again while I go to collage. I want to grow old with him. I want to love him, forever. The simple *want* here is that - I *want* him.

Okay, it’s time for a plan.

Very carefully, so not to wake my hopefully soon to be lover, I slide out from under him and tip toe downstairs. To my complete and utter happiness, my Uncle had left earlier that morning, leaving me a note say he has to moderate exams and expect him home late. So the first part of my plan is breakfast in bed. It doesn’t exactly go as planned and I end up burning everything. Finally, he has to be happy with warm pop tarts. I make tea which he and my uncle actually like drinking. Myself, I go for hot chocolate with the little marshmellows in.

Second part of my plan - seduce Angel. This might be a little hard since I’ve never actually come on to another man before. I know I kissed him the other day, but that was a spur of the moment kinda thing. I was just so relieved that he wasn’t HIV positive I think I would have licked his feet. I take the breakfast upstairs on a tray, I didn’t go for a flower, I might love him but I am not a pansy!

Angel looks so cute when sleeping and I decide to wake him with a soft kiss on his lips. He moans softly and reaches out to touch my face. I remember back when I had first met him. Didn’t Malloy say that Angel had never slept in the same bed as his customers? Well, he slept all night with me. This time I kiss him again, with more force, and when he breathes, I push my tongue past his parted lips. I taste his warm palette, and after a few moments his sleepy tongue entwines with mine and the kiss deepens. One large hand worms it’s way into my hair and pulls me towards him. I rest my weight on the bed... suddenly, I hear a chink as two cups collide on the tray. Angel pulls away and opens an eye. He smiles when he sees breakfast.

“Hi,” he murmurs sleepily, rubbing his eyes and sitting up.

“Morning,” I answer, leaning over to kiss him lightly again. He seems to enjoy my advances and we share another heated kiss, until we are disturbed by the clinking crockery.

Angel laughs and picks up his cup of tea, sipping the hot liquid carefully as I sit beside him on the bed. He chuckles softly when he notices the hot chocolate and hands it to me. We eat the pop tarts in silence, but it’s not uncomfortable. It’s just... happy in a way. I don’t know if I can explain it. I just feel complete sitting here with him. When breakfast is finished, Angel grins at me and picks up the tray. He leans over my body and puts the tray onto the floor. Wow! Great view of his back and ass.

“What are you planning, Will?” he asks in a casual voice.

“Huh? Nothing...” Shit! How did he know?

“You hardly ever do anything for nothing,” Angel answers with a sly smile.

“I don’t want anything like that Angel!” I cry, “I’m not doing this so you feel pressured into...” Bugger! I’m making a right mess of this.

“I know, Will. I didn’t mean that. I know you aren’t pressuring me. I...I just want to.”

Huh? “Err... what?”

“I want to make love with you,” Angel whispers over me, crawling up my body.

Okay, plan 2 down the drain, but things are certainly looking good so far. “I want you too, Angel,” I reply. I lean forward and press my mouth to his. He kisses passionately, all tongue, lips and movement. He licks, sucks and probes my mouth. I don’t stay pliant through all this and return the favour. I want to taste every corner of his mouth. I want to mark it as mine.

Our kisses become gentler and less frantic as we turn our attention to other matters. Hands attack clothing and push them from male shoulders. With both remove our pants, and then return to the process of exploration.

“Will, you’re so beautiful,” Angel moans into my mouth, as his large hands caress my chest. He rubs over my skin with soft caresses, paying special attention to my nipples, making me quiver. I groan under him as I feel myself become more and more aroused, and we haven’t even reached the cock part yet. Angel’s mouth leaves mine and instantly finds my nipples. No one has ever really paid much attention to them, but it feels like Angel has been worshipping them for hours. He sucks, nips and pulls with hand and mouth, making them hard and tight. With each caress it sends a bolt of desire directly to my throbbing cock.

“Oh... Fuck... Angel...” I moan as I writhe under him. Why the hell hasn’t anyone done this before? I swear I’m going to cum just from nipple manipulation. Okay, I’ve had enough of this. This is not going to be one sided. We are making love, not having sex. With one movement, I roll us over and now Angel is below me.

“Ah, Liam, you’re fucking gorgeous,” I compliment him with a false Irish accent. Angel laughs, then quickly starts to moan as I attack his chest. Angel’s hands thread threw my hair as I suck his nipple. He laughs and moans as my fingers find the other, pulling on it harshly. They harden under my touch, just like female one’s but his wide-open chest is far more accessible. I love how I can feel his rib cage under my fingers, and how the tiny brown nipples stretch the skin taunt.

Angel’s moans turn to laughter again as I move further down his chest. I trace the outline of his abs with my tongue down to his stomach. When I reach his navel, he starts to chuckle softly. Ah, first ticklish place! I lick over that special place until he’s had enough and he rolls us over again. I guess it’s my turn.

Angel’s attention returns to my chest, making sure my nipples are hard and erect. Then, with strong hands, he strokes the length of my chest down to my concave stomach. I don’t have the build Angel does, being of smaller form and bone structure. My hands rub his strong shoulders as he licks my navel, plunging his tongue deeply inside. Then he does something different. He rests his weight on my lower body and muzzles his face into my stomach. Angel’s soft, thick hair rubs into my skin, his cheek and lips pressing against me. I swear it’s the most sensual thing I’ve ever experienced. I groan louder as his hair and eyelashes caress my skin, and then he moves even lower.

“Oh fuck, Angel!” I cry. Angel’s warm tongue licks at the beginnings of my pubic hair, his cheek grazing against my cock.

“Ohhhh... Yeahhhhh...” I moan. Angel chuckles into my flesh and moves even lower. Oh wow! Is he going to suck me? Please! I’ve never been part of oral sex before. I have seen it done. I caught Angel in at Alley with....

“Angel, stop!” I beg.

“Will, what’s wrong? I’m doing something wrong...”

“No, I just... I don’t want you to do that if you don’t like it,” I tell him, remembering his puking after swallowing another man‘s cum.

“I want to, Will. I didn’t enjoy it before because I felt... well, I was forced into it. It made me feel dirty and I couldn’t swallow it. You find out quick that most men get upset if you spit it out.” He gives me a quick lick up the whole length of my cock and I whimper. “I want to taste you, Will. I want to touch you.”

“Fine,” I mumble, getting lost in the sensations he’s causing.

Angel’s mouth returns back to my cock and he gives a few more experimental licks. I moan appreciatively and he takes the acorn shaped head of my penis back into his mouth. I try and say something, but all I can do is groan loudly. Angel chuckles around my cock, and that just increases the intense pleasure. Suddenly Angel pulls away from my length and just looks at it. I mean really looks at it. For a very long time. Well, it could just have felt that way. To my amazement it’s really quite a turn on. I feel myself growing harder and harder every second his eyes caress me.

“Please!” I end up begging, unable to take any more. Angel finally lifts his eyes from my throbbing penis and smiles at me. He leans down again and cups my balls in one hand. His large fingers feel gentle around me, but then he adds a little pressure. “Yesssss...” I hiss in painful delight. I moan again as I feel his mouth touch me. He tongues me, giving long wet licks up the entire underside of my erect organ. As he licks my length, his tongue tests, lightly pushing against certain parts. He reaches the top and presses against the point where my foreskin was attached. Angel keeps pressing that same part and gets the same response from me. A really unmanly yelp that only encourages him to tease me even more. He moves away from that point, taking the head into his mouth. I groan into his warmth, and he slides me deeper. I feel his throat muscles relax around my dick and I watch with wide eyes as I disappear inside his talented mouth.

“Bugger!” I cry as he swallows around my cock head.

Okay, this isn’t the longest blowjob in history but I can’t hold back a second more. With that one fantastic movement I come spurting onto his tongue and he swallows around me. Even as my cock starts to soften Angel holds me in his mouth, and soon his tongue and sucking starts to become painful. Not hurtful, but really pleasurable in a way.

“Please,” I beg. Angel releases me as if he didn’t realise what he was doing. With one fast movement he is up the length of my body and kissing my face frantically.

“Oh, Will,” he moans between kisses, “you taste so good. I can’t get enough of you!” I immediately start to harden again at his words. I had thought he wouldn’t swallow and I tried to prepare myself not to be disappointed. His words amaze me and I feel my heart swell again. Angel suddenly scurries back downward as soon as my cock starts to press into his stomach, taking it back into his mouth.

“Angel, please!” I cry. I grab his arms and pull him back up to face me. “I don’t want this to be one-sided. You’ve given me immense pleasure, now it’s your turn.”

Angel looks startled at my words, but I guide him onto his back and notice a slight tremble in his body.

“Has anyone pleasured you, Angel?”

“No,” he whispers dejectedly, “I was paid for their pleasure, not my own. No one has ever sucked me; I haven’t even fucked a man. They usually take one look at me, and want only to take me until I begged them to stop.”

“Your pleasure is of the utmost importance to me, Angel,” I murmur against his lips, as I kiss him. “But to tell you the truth, I’ve never performed oral sex on anyone.”

“You don’t have to take me into your throat, Will. That comes with practice, and sometimes lots of it. You can use you’re hands, anything.”

Hands. Now I’m no artist, but I have been told I have very fine and elegant hands. Long tapered fingers with a good ability to sculpt well. Okay, so it was a pottery teacher that told me that, but surely I can do some moulding on Angel’s cock. And such a perfect cock it is, too. I pull away from his lips and look down at his hard length. Slightly longer than my own, and as straight as an arrow. It’s one of my favourite features about Angel, and I want to show him my appreciation of it.

I grin down at him as I straddle his thighs, and get in a good position to properly worship him. Damn, he’s big! I test his shape and my hand doesn't completely encircle it, so I use both hands and gently stroke him. Angel’s eyes roll up to the top of his head and he moans in surprised pleasure. I love how he reacts to me. I love how he’s my first man and in many ways I’m becoming his. I want to explore every part of his cock. I start with strokes and then using my fingertips. tickle up and down his length in straight lines. He really likes that. Angel mumbles something completely unintelligible and thrusts upward into my hand. I change my action to fondle and massage his length. I rub the base of his cock, cupping his balls as I go. Then I run my fingertips along his length, swirling around the cock head, then back down the base. I continue repeating this action, until Angel starts saying something new.

“Will... Will... Will...” he begins to chant. I think I like being a cock-tease.

Now, I’m not perfect and I’ve jerked myself off enough times, but touching Angel feels so different. My hands are giving him total pleasure. He feels so amazing, and I love how he reacts to my caresses. I try something else, something I’ve done on myself and enjoyed, but I couldn’t get it completely right. I press my palm to the top of his penis and hold it there. My hand is straight and then I start to spin, as if opening a jar lid. Angel immediately growls and presses up into my hand more firmly. As he’s groans, growling my name and basically writhing all over the bed, I slip a hand down to his testicles and lift them with my fingers.

“Will! Will! Will!” Angel’s voice is rising loudly, and I’m really glad my uncle isn’t around. I hold his testicles and gently tug them down away from his shaft. I add a couple of bounces in, feeling their weight.

“Bugger, Angel! You’re so beautiful. Your cock so perfect. Your nuts feel so good in my hand. Can you feel how heavy they are? How they ache to come, come for me, my Angel,” I tell him as I roll them up the underside of his shaft. Angel’s chanting soon turns to panting, and I feel a wonderful drop of pre-cum forming on his tip. I remove my hand, returning it to stroking and with a little apprehension take the head of his cock into my mouth. With relief I find that it doesn’t feel wrong, in fact he feels hard and warm. I can feel all the changes happening to his cock all at once. The head starts to swell a little, and the vein underneath pulsates slightly against my tongue. The reactions increase as I continue my hand actions and add a little sucking with my mouth. Suddenly, a rush of warm cum covers my tongue, and I swallow him down. He tastes slightly bitter, but not offensive. I continue to swallow as he fills me, finishing with a loud scream as his load ebbs and finally stops.

“Wow!” Angel cries above me, “no wonder they pay for it!” Strong arms grab my shoulders and he pulls me into his embrace. He kisses me desperately, his tongue tasting himself in my mouth.

“Will, you feel so good. Gods, I love you!” he yells, laughing, and giddy with his joy.

“What?” I pull away from him and stare down into his dark, lusty eyes.

“Oh, Will... I love you,” Angel repeats more clearly. His large fingers stroke my cheeks and he kisses my nose. “I tried not to. I tried to stop it, but I can’t. I shouldn’t love you, I don’t deserve it, but I do.”

“Angel, I’ve always loved you,” I whisper.

Our lips meet again, this time more sweetly then ever before. We kiss, trying to express our feelings, not just the passion. I lust for Angel. I yearn to be with him, but I love him too. I tried to stop it. I didn’t want it to happen either. I always thought I was straight. Women all the way. It didn’t turn out that way. I guess you can’t control whom you fall in love with. Believe me, I tried.

22nd March 2002

The last couple of days have been the most amazing of my life. I didn’t go to school on Wednesday, and only managed half a day on Thursday. Friday - today - I just gave up on. When I’m away from Angel, he’s all I can think about. Since the first time we’ve touched, we’ve hardly been out of bed. We haven’t penetrated each other, but just explored, touched, tasted and held. I’ve discovered Angel loves just to be held. He sleeps wrapped in my arms, his head on my chest and I hold him. I know its kinda poofy, but the truth is, I really like holding him.

During our times, he’s shown me lots of techniques. We’ve kissed for hours. Stroked and touched each other’s body. He has massaged my feet, which I really enjoyed. So much so, I nearly came from it. We have even bathed together. Washed each other’s hair, kissed and groped in the tub, splashing water all over the floor, which unfortunately then leaked into the kitchen. Angel showed me all the techniques of fellatio he knew. He told me that he enjoyed sharing it with me. That he loved me trying it out on him. Sometimes, I’m glad that one of us has some experience. I just don’t try to think about how he got it. Strangely enough, none of those men or women that paid Angel for sex ever intruded into our activities. It was like it was another life and it didn’t really matter.

Well anyhow, tonight all the seniors from school will be in the usual place. The Bronze. It’s the only decent club in Sunnydale. Okay, it’s the only place Sunnydale has to be in, apart from the coffee bar and you really can’t dance there. Tonight, I want to take Angel out. I want to be seen with this absolutely stunningly handsome man at my side. I’m not sure if I can introduce him as my boyfriend, or partner or anything like that, but I want to be seen with him. It’s not entirely that. I also want Angel to experience my life. I want him to be a part of it outside of this house.

To my complete and utter surprise, Angel agrees to go out with me. I’m amazed that he agrees so quickly. During the time I’ve known him, I have discovered that Angel can be completely and utterly stubborn, so stuck in his decision that he won’t change his mind no matter what. I really love his determination, but it can be annoying at times. Especially when I don’t get my own way.

This evening, Angel cooks a dinner for my uncle, which was nearly burned. It wasn’t his fault, but mine. He was wearing those black leather jeans, with a red crushed velvet shirt and I just couldn’t keep my hands of him. In the end, he was trying to fry some chicken while I was testing out my new skills of sucking him off. Luckily, I was just tucking him away, when my Uncle came home.

Angel’s cooking skills are a joy to Giles and he’s more than halved Angel’s rent. The only trouble is, he’s hardly ever late home, but strangely ever since Angel has lived here, Giles and I have hardly argued. Maybe it’s because I spend all my time and energy on Angel and not getting myself into trouble.

“Aren’t you hungry?” my uncle asks, as I shove my food around my plate.

“I’m full,” I answer.

“You shouldn’t eat between meals,” Giles scolds in his parental way.

“No, I haven’t. It’s just this new protein diet I’m on.”

It’s a good job I’ve done a first aid course. Poor Angel couldn’t stop choking, while Giles looked on, totally bemused.

When we arrived at the bronze, the whole place is crammed full with what must have been the whole senior year. All my friends were there. Xander and my ex-Drusilla, Willow, Oz, and Buffy, who was arguing with the queen bitch, Cordelia. Oh joy. Of all the times to take Angel out, I bring him to the pre-fumigation party. Angel takes this all in his stride, but I do notice that he’s never far from my side. I make my way over to my friends and casually introduce him. They all ask the usual questions. `Hi, where are you from?’ `Have you got a girlfriend?’ `How old are you?’ Angel answers, but does something I’ve never heard before. A couple of times, he actually stutters. I think that underneath that tough exterior, he’s actually a shy and private person. It’s so... so cute. Oh bugger, that damn word again!

I have discovered that I hate him talking to Buffy. She’s a petite blond, very pretty and for the longest time I had a major crush on her. I mean a boyish crush of following her around school, drooling. She is a beautiful young woman, great build and body, but her personality is a bit temperamental. She once told me I was beneath her, and she would never consider going out with anyone like me. Anyhow, she’s really into hot men, too. The tall, dark and devastatingly handsome type. *My* type of man, it seems. Which would immediately describe Angel. Well, on first sight she instantly zeroed in on him. She put on all the charm, the swagger in her hips, the whole pushing up her bosom thing. For the first time ever, I hated her.

“So Angel, you’re from LA,” she purrs, “I’m from there originally, but then my boring parents moved here. I mean this place is nothing like a cool, big city. There is so little to do here. Maybe we could...”

“I...err... like Sunnydale...” Angel mumbles in reply.

“Oh, yeah. I do to. Do you wanna dance? I could tell you all about the most interesting places.” Buffy leans forward and gives him a full view of her cleavage.

Right! That does it! I stub out my herbal cigarette and growl. Okay, it’s herbal because Angel doesn’t like me smoking. He says that if he can give up hard drugs, I can give up fags. Still, I am having a little problem. I keep having this desire to either smoke or touch him. I get out of my chair, and stand behind Angel. I haven’t a clue what I’m doing. I really think this is the most stupid move I’ve ever made. It’s going to ruin my reputation for being a bad boy. But I just can’t let this continue.

“I...err... I don’t dance...” my lover stutters to Buffy. Others might not notice, but his whole face depicts a look of fear and uncertainty. I don’t think he likes people coming on to him. I’m not surprised, given his profession. It’s strange how we met. I think we saved each other, we loved and then the sex came after. I know it only took a couple of weeks, but I think I loved Angel the first time I looked in his eyes.

“Angel,” I whisper seductively into his ear, “dance with me, lover?”

Angel shudders as my breath caresses his neck, and without conscious thought he gets to his feet. I take his hand and pull him towards the mass of people swaying and grinding on the dance floor. The music is thankfully slow, but with a good steady beat. Out of the corner of my eye, I watch Buffy’s mouth drop open, and she stares uncomprehending at the man who turned her down for another man.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Angel whispers.

“No, but I want them to know you’re mine,” I lean forward and brush my lips against his. Damn, I hate having to lean up to kiss him. If only he was a little shorter... no, I like him just the way he is.

Angel gives me that amazing 100-watt smile, and my insides turn to mush. He slips an arm around my waist, and I rest my head onto his large chest. I’m a little worried about what the hell I’m doing, but at this moment there is nowhere else I’d rather be. Angel feels so warm, large and protective. It is as though he belonged at my side forever. That if we were immortal, I would want him for eternity. Even if he was... Now there’s a thought. For the first time ever, I think I have an incredible idea for a novel. Yep, I’m seeing the whole thing flashing before my eyes. Whoa, it’s like this imaginary world is becoming alive right inside my mind. I see the characters. The events... My Angel... Oh wow! This is fucking amazing! I urgently want to go home and write it. Trouble is I don’t want to move from Angel’s embrace. Ah, my first relationship dilemma. Stay and dance with my lover, or go home and lock myself in my room to write my first novel?

23 March 2002

Last night we danced at the nightclub for around an hour. Then my friends kinda dragged me off the dance floor, and asked what the hell I was doing dancing with another man. I told them in clear terms that Angel is my lover. It was a bit... well, a huge shock to them. Buffy and Xander didn’t take it well at all, but Willow understood and was very accepting to Angel and me. Afterwards, we went home, made love in my bed, and then when Angel was asleep, I grabbed up my laptop and started writing.

The Adventures of Angel and Spike. A Vampire Novel by William Montague.

Angelus, fiend of Europe was the most evil vampire to ever walk the earth...

And that’s how it started. For hours I typed and typed until my fingers hurt. Then I typed some more. I knew I’d been at it all night, but I couldn’t stop. I was lost in this new world of Angel and Spike. The dawn came and went, my Uncle shouted for his breakfast which awoke Angel, and he sleepily went to cook it. Angel then returned back to bed and went to sleep again. My Uncle whistled off to work and I still continued to write. It must have been around midday when Angel finally reawakened. I didn’t take much notice, but I could feel him watching me. He lay on his side beside me, large brown eyes taking in my every detail. In no time, I was finding his stare increasingly distracting. My whole body started to feel warmer, and my lap became uncomfortable, as my penis started to swell under his watchful eyes.

It was becoming more and more difficult to type, as my cock became erect and pushed the laptop off balance. Angel must have noticed this because his hand slipped under the covers and gently stroked my leg. I sighed deeply and the whole length of my body shivered at his gentle touch. The more he stroked the harder I became. His caresses suddenly changed, running down the whole length of my thigh and higher onto my hip, each time he passed near my cock, I wished he would touch it.

“Fuck!” I cry in the end, shutting the laptop down and hurriedly putting it aside. In one swift movement, I have Angel under me and my lips firmly attached to his. We kiss passionately, and our tongues entwine. My hands slip into his thick hair, tilting his head so I can dive deeper inside his mouth. At times like these I wish to be inside him. I wonder what it’s like to be encased by his warm, hard body. What does it feel like to stretch out his anus with my cock? To make him come as I pound away inside of him?

Angel suddenly pulls away from my mouth, and I try desperately to kiss him again. “I want you,” he whispers huskily into my ear. “I want you to take me, Will.”

I instantly pull away; I roll over onto my side and study him. “Angel, I don’t want to hurt you if you’re not ready. I don’t really know how...”

“I’m healed,” he reassures me, pressing his long fingers to my lips, “I know it will be your first time, and I want you to take me so much, beloved. I ache for you.”

Angel pushes me onto my back, as he crushes his lips to mine. While we kiss, Angel fiddles around on my bedside cabinet and pulls out a condom and lube. On second thoughts he puts the condom back and kisses me fiercely.

“There won’t be anyone but you,” he mumbles, as our kisses become frantic. Our bodies rub together, and I feel like crying at his words, or maybe even coming. After a long moment, Angel breaks away from my mouth and slides down my body. He takes my erection in his large firm hand, and coats it liberally with the honeysuckle scented lubricant. I watch, taking it all in, not sure what to say to him. I really don’t want to mention anything that might spoil this moment. My brain is half in shock because he really wants me to touch him, even after the violent rape he has so recently suffered.

When Angel has finished covering my length, he sits up, coats his fingers and presses them to his anus. I stop him. “What are you doing?”

“I... err... have to be prepared,” he mumbles embarrassed.

“Can I do it?” I ask, taking the lube from his hand. Angel’s eyes widen in pleased surprise and he turns around. I pull him forward until he’s straggling my chest, his ass next to my face. Wow, he’s gorgeous. His buttocks are toned and round, hard to the touch as I part them, taking my first look at the place I’ve wanted to be in for over a week. The tiny puckered opening is closed and tight - perfectly healed. I lube up a finger and press it inside him. Angel groans with the contact and pushes back slightly. I’m not entirely sure about this, but I thrust forward and my finger slips inside his body.

“Fuck...” I moan. A tight ring of muscle clamps down hard around my digit, and I have to stroke and push to get further inside. I withdraw and add more lube, before adding another finger to his tight orifice. With two fingers I swirl around, caressing and pressing against his outer walls. Angel seems to be enjoying my fingering as he rocks back on my hand, his head dropping to rest on my legs, giving me full access to his most perfect place. When I think there’s enough lubricant, I add another finger and prod deeper. The tight ring gives way and I press against a warm, smooth channel. It curves slightly upwards and I butt against it.

“Will!” Angel yells as I forcibly push against a small nub inside him. I’ve done Sex-Ed and I’m guessing that this is his prostate gland. I push again and he writhes above me, his rocking becoming harsher and more vigorous. The more I probe around, the more he starts to pant.

“Oh... fuck!” he cries. I think that’s one of the few swear words he’s ever used. Angel doesn’t need to swear. He can be aggressive or fierce without using then. “Stop...” he starts to moan.

“Am I doing something wrong?” I ask, concerned.

“Oh... no... Will!” he pants again as I push deeper inside. “No... if you don’t stop... I’m gonna come...”

So, I don’t stop. I lube up another finger and with all four I thrust inside his tight channel. I want him to come on my hand. I want to watch my fingers disappear inside him. He feels so different to a woman, better in ways I can’t explain. Maybe it’s because I love him?

“Willlllll!!” Angel screams, as he orgasms above me, his body arching, his ass pressing down onto my hand as his cock erupts over mine.

“Good?” I grin at him as he turns around. He gives me an angry look, but his eyes are sparkling with intense pleasure. With a sure movement Angel straddles me again, takes hold of my hard length and quickly slides down onto me.

“Good?” he asks as he takes my whole length inside his body.

“Fuck!” I scream in return as his tight, warm passage squeezes me. Angel grins and starts a slow, but hard rhythm. His movements become automatic, and I’m being to feel a little... well, it’s like he’s not fully enjoying this.

“Angel,” I pant, holding his hips still, “Do what *you* like.”

Angel has another extremely surprised look on his face, but his movements change. Instead of the harsh thrusts, he starts to grind his ass against my hips. Inside, my cocks stretches and caresses his passage and he moans as I crush up against his sensitive tissues. Angel’s movements become and more assertive and soon my cock seems to be stroking every single place he likes to be touched. His moans increase, getting louder and louder. He starts to pant, as his whole body trembles with extreme gratification, his skin slick with sweat, glowing in the afternoon light.

“Angel, I love you,” I moan, my hips thrusting up into his dark, perfect place. My hands start caressing his hard chest, pulling and rubbing his erect nipples. Our movements change slightly and he lifts himself up and down my length as I thrust upwards, all the time keeping his hips circling, adding a blissful stretch to my thrusting. The sight of my lover receiving so much joy from my cock, the look on his face, and the intense sensations of his tight passage gripping and caressing, finally send me over the edge. I scream his name.

“Annnggggeeeelllll!” I yell, the sound off my voice reverberating of the walls and ceilings. I bet you could hear my scream for miles around. If anyone had any doubt about my sexual orientation, they only had to hear that sound and they would know I’m Angel’s forever.

I think it was a good couple of hours until either of us moved again. I was just so happy to lie there in my lover’s embrace, my head resting upon his warm chest. Our bodies were slick with sweat, slightly smelly with cum, but I didn’t want to move for anything.

“What are you writing?” Angel inquires after a long silent moment.

“A novel,” I reply.

“About?”

“Us.”

“What?” Angel immediately sits up with a betrayed look on his face. “You wrote about me... about what I did?”

“No!” I reassure him, taking his face in my hands and kissing him lightly. “No, I wrote about what I feel for you. The characters aren’t us... well; they are vampires, so they can’t be us.”

“Vampires?” he asks amused.

I pick up the laptop and switch it on. “Yeah.” I show Angel the title and he grins. “It’s about Angelus, the Fiend of Europe...” I notice a bemused grin.

“Fiend?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It sounds funny... maybe... err... Scourge?”

“The Scourge of Europe,” I repeat, testing the sound of it. “I like it,” I decide and change the wording.

“It’s about Angelus, Scourge of Europe, the evilest vampire ever. He gets turned - I’m calling it Sired - by this bitch Darla, and they become lovers and start cutting a bloody path across the continent. Years later, he turns an innocent young girl, Drusilla but first he drives her insane. This Drusilla comes across a young, very handsome, clever...”

Angel interrupts with a sly smirk, “Egoistical...”

“No... man, and wants to turn him. She bites him, but Angelus is jealous of Dru and steals the young man himself, takes him to his bed and sires him. This youth calls himself William the Bloody, or as you and I know him, Spike. Now this Spike falls madly in love with Angelus, his sire, but Angelus is an evil demonic vampire that loves nothing. Years later, Darla gives Angelus a gypsy girl for his birthday, whom he defiles and murders. The Gypsy’s clan, in a fit of revenge gives Angelus his soul back in the form of a curse. With this new soul Angelus feels all the guilt, suffering and pain of his victims. It drives him to the edge of insanity and he runs away from his vampire family. Spike, feeling deserted and unloved, turns to Dru for comfort.”

“So, I leave you?” Angel asks, a disturbed and sad look on his face.

“I haven’t finished yet,” I reassure him, leaning over and kissing his succulent lips. “This new soul - called Angel - lost and confused, finds his way back to his bitch sire and family in China. Darla hates the soul, but Spike is overjoyed that his sire/lover is back, and takes him in. Together they run away, leaving Darla and Dru behind, searching for a new life. During the next hundred years or so they will fight various demons, vampires, devils and stuff. There’s going to be Vampire Slayers, witches, werewolves and dumb blonds. Most of all though, Angel and Spike will be together. Forever.”

A wonderful smile starts on Angel’s lips, spreading across his entire face. I kiss him softly and he pulls away. “So, I’m guessing that this Sire...”

“Sire and Childe relationship?”

“Sire and Childe vampire thing is going to be on the lines of Sub/Dom. The Sire taking the Childe and such?”

“Yeah...” I confirm, not sure where he’s going.

“So, Angel will be fucking Spike a lot? I guess he’ll let him do the other way occasional, but mainly I’d get to take him?”

Ah, that’s where this is going. “Yes Sire,” I reply with respect, “you can fuck me at any time.”

“Can I make love to you?”

“Oh... god, yes Angel... Please,” I shove the laptop aside, and slide down the bed. Angel leans over and presses his lips to mine, his tongue forcing my mouth open. He surges inside, desperate to touch and be touched. Our tongues entwine, as our hands wander over sex warmed skin, cocks responding to the sensation of this closeness.

My hand quickly finds the discarded lubricant, and I squeeze some into my hand. As we continue kissing, I slide my hand down to Angel’s erect cock and coat him with long hard stokes. He moans and thrusts into my caress, but then pulls away as he sits up.

“I want you on your back. I need to see your face. Please,” he begs. I don’t answer but smile happily in return.

I’m not entirely sure what to do, but Angel parts my legs, and settles himself between them. He takes my hands and with his help I lift my knees, holding them to my chest. My hips roll upwards, revealing my untouched hole. Angel slowly strokes my thighs, then massages my tense buttocks. After a few minutes, I relax with his welcomed touch and he presses a wet, cool finger into my hole, causing a burning sensation. The lubricant quickly starts to warm, as he gently moves his finger in and out until the burning ebbs. Now, I start to feel the full blown pleasure of his actions. When he feels my muscles relax, he adds another finger.

All this time I watch my lover’s angelic face. So full of concentration and love, that I can’t speak, but just moan as he caresses me in the most intimate of places. The second finger burns again with the added stretch, but this time it fades a lot quicker. I unintentionally thrust slightly, enjoying the feel of his thrusting and stretching against my anus. I never thought it would feel like this. I feel every inch of his fingers with amazing clarity; I feel his fingertips pushing past the outer ring, and deeper inside.

“Oooohhhh,” I groan out, while Angel chuckles. He is still smiling, and I’m wondering if his face is going to hurt after this. “Yeah!” I cry as Angel adds a third finger, this time moving deeper, touching me as I did him. I feel my cock swell even more with each movement of his fingers, but I don’t touch it because I want to come from his actions not mine. Angel starts to thrust inside me, each time getting deeper and then...

“FUCK!” I scream, shooting my load over my chest, some of it hitting Angel‘s face. Whoa, I’ve never come that quickly before. Angel keeps thrusting against that trembling nub inside, and I feel myself harden again. Oh, yeah! I love his fingers.

I complain loudly when Angel withdrawss from my body, but his fingers are quickly replaced by something much bigger. The intense stretch of Angel’ cock as it glides inside, makes my eyes burn with tears. He moves slowly and carefully forward, and then stops. I feel him lean over me, and I realise I’ve closed my eyes.

“Am I hurting you?” he asks as he kisses my cheeks and forehead.

“A little...” I moan.

“It will pass; I don’t have to thrust any deeper if it’s uncomfortable.”

“No! I want all of you, Angel, every inch!” I pull him down, my arms wrapping around his strong body as I kiss him frantically.

“Will,” he groans and slowly presses forward again. He’s so tender, careful and loving. I don’t know how long it took him, but finally he was buried inside my rectum. I could feel the incredible sensation of his balls pressing against my ass, and I knew his whole cock was inside me. I’ve never felt so complete as I did then. I held Angel to me, and to my surprise, his face was wet with tears.

“I love you so much, Will,” he whispers, his voice filled with emotion. “I never want anyone but you. I never want to be touched again, if it’s not by you.”

I can’t find the words to answer him. My reputation, my desire to be the big bad, are all forgotten in this bed. I lose myself in my lover, and just feel the emotions he induces in me. I concentrate on his large body pounding into mine, rearranging my bowels in such a way that I’m screaming in passion and desire, begging him to ram deeper. I howl as he takes my dripping cock into a firm hold and pumps me in time with his thrusting. I scream, beg, growl, howl, losing myself in Angel and our lovemaking. Because that’s what is this. Not shagging, fucking or screwing. I’ve given myself to Angel, as he has given himself to me.

My thoughts are lost as Angel hits my prostate over and over again. I can’t hold back anymore and for the second time in an hour, I cover Angel’s hand. He continues to pound away as he brings his wet hand to his mouth, licking away my warm seed. Well, that brings on a second dry orgasm, causing my anus to contract up and down. In turn, Angel climaxes, screaming and howling my name, as he fills my aching passage with his orgasm.

Afterwards, in our post-orgasmic bliss, we curl together in my bed, sticky and sated. Our bodies pressing together, hands and mouths touching gently, as we lull each other to sleep. My sleepy mind doesn’t even register the loud footsteps running down the hall, and they certainly don’t understand the slamming of the outer door.


24th March 2002

It’s late morning when I awaken. The bed is warm, but surprising empty. I reach out to touch Angel, but I can’t find his desired body to curl against. I immediately awaken and look around. On the bed next to me is a little note.

Will,

Sorry, I had to leave you but I have to do something. Don’t worry it’s nothing bad, it’s a surprise for you. And I had to cook Giles’ breakfast. There is something strange with him this morning...

Love, Angel.

I smile in a unmanly way at the last line - *love, Angel*. I put the note in my bedside table and get dressed. I wonder what Angel’s surprise could be? My stomach rumbles as I dress and I realise that I hadn’t eaten at all yesterday. Well, I was kinda busy at the time.

Wow! I had sex with Angel! Real sex. I was in him and he was in me... Wow! WOW!

Okay, gotta get a hold of myself, and wipe the silly grin off my face. It certainly doesn’t go with my tough guy image. I straighten myself up and decide to get some breakfast - well, brunch. When I arrive downstairs, I’m surprised to see my Uncle sitting at the kitchen table, sorting out his bills. Then I realise its Sunday, and he’s not at work. We greet each other with the usual ‘morning’ and I grab some pop tarts. I’m about to go eat them in front of the TV, when Giles stops me.

“William, I need to talk to you.”

Damn, I hate that tone. He always uses it when he is about to give me a dressing down. I sigh and sit down. I really didn’t want an argument this morning. My body throbs happily with over use, sated and high from yesterday’s activities, and I really didn’t want anything to spoil this feeling.

“It was Saturday, yesterday,” Giles starts. I look at him completely confused. So? “I work in the mornings, doing the assignments for the next week, remember?” he reminds me.

“Yeah... so?” I reply, completely and utterly perplexed.

“I came home around late afternoon. I heard you William. I heard Angel, too.”

Oh shit!

“Uncle Rupert, it’s not what you think...”

“What? That you and Angel are having sex?” he interrupts. Strangely enough, he’s not shouting at me. He’s actually talking in a rather calm voice, and it’s setting me off balance.

“Well, yes we are, but I...” Do I really have to say this? Do I want to tell someone else what I feel for Angel? What if I disgust him? What if he makes Angel leave? Do I have the courage to leave with him?

“I... I love him,” I finally admit.

“William, we both know you go through fads. A couple of months ago you wanted to be a poet. Before that a pop star. I mean, look at what you did to your hair,” he smiles, but then turns serious again. “William, Angel is a very sensitive person. I like him, I really do and I don’t want to see him hurt. He’s been through a lot, and he’s recovering from drug abuse. Most of all, I don’t want to see you hurt. I don’t want you to look at what you’re doing in a month’s time and see a huge mistake. I don’t want you to feel as though you have to keep this relationship going because you’ll hurt Angel. If you’re not sure, if you think that maybe you’ve made a mistake, you have to decide now, William. Before it goes too far. You have to know what you really want.”

Wow! Again. I’ve been saying that a lot today already. My uncle is talking to me. Person to person. As if I was actually an adult and he respected me. I’ll say it again - Wow!

Suddenly, before I can say a word, a voice floats down from upstairs. “Will?” Angel calls.

“Here,” I shout back.

With a flurry of movement, Angel runs down the stairs and into the kitchen. His arms are filled with canvas. He skids to a halt as soon as he spots my uncle and looks shyly at the floor.

“What is it?” I ask, touching his arm. Giles notes the sentiment, but says nothing.

“I’ve finished,” Angel replies, his voice soft and embarrassed. At first I don’t understand what he means, and then I look at what he’s holding. Wow! He painted! I jump up and grab one from him.

“William!” Giles scolds. Angel doesn’t complain and starts to smile at my enthusiasm. I flip the canvas over and lay it carefully on the table, shoving aside the paper and cups, making sure nothing can stain it. “William!” Giles shouts again, but I don’t hear him.

“Bloody hell!” I cry. “Wow!” In an instant, I’m in Angel’s arms and kissing him. I can’t get enough of his warm, wet mouth as his willing tongue duels with mine. I clutch him closer, and I feel as though this is the best decision I’ve ever made in my life.

“Angel, I love you,” I tell him in front of my Uncle and he glows deep red. I’ve never seen Angel blush before. It’s something I’ll have to do more often. Also I’ve got to find another word to replace ‘Wow!’

“Angel, these are... amazing,” my Uncle gasps. He stands up and takes another canvas from Angel’s hands. I swear his eyes start to tear up. “How... it’s...” he stutters.

The pictures *are* amazing. They are perfect in every way. Above all that though, I know it’s because of Angel’s happiness that he’s painting again. Because of us... me. You might think that egotistical, but in truth, it’s the same for me. I began my novel because of Angel’s and my own happiness.

All afternoon we spent looking at Angel’s pictures. He even showed my Uncle those of his deceased sister. The new paintings are not of her, but of me. There are a couple of our house, but I didn’t really look at them. I just can’t believe how Angel has drawn me. I mean I look like some sort of Greek god. Immaculate in everyway. He’s drawn me to perfection. Every curve, smile, look is so real, so lifelike. My uncle is shocked and overjoyed at the paintings. So much so he’s across the road and bringing in Joyce Summers, who owns the local art galley. She’s over excited about the paintings and they both start planning to put on an exhibition of his work. Angel is totally bemused by all the goings on around him, but I lap up all the attention he gives me. He never leaves my side, sitting beside me, as his leg constantly touches mine. His fingers reaching for mine when he thinks no one is looking. I love how he needs me as much as I need him. I know that at this moment I am making the right decision. Angel is in my life forever, and I’ll never willingly let him go.

30th March 2002

A week as gone by, and it’s the busiest I’ve ever had. I’ve been writing while Angel paints. We have moved his old bedroom around and set up an easel for Angel and workstation for me. I need to be with him to write. Without his presence I can’t seem to think straight. It’s quiet when we work. I must have written well over 1000 pages of my novel now and I’ve started to split it into smaller books. Angel’s done 6 watercolours and has started an oil painting. He tells me that it won’t be finished for the showing tonight. Oil paintings can take weeks, or even months to dry.

Oh, bugger! It’s late. When I write, I lose track of time, and Angel’s totally engrossed with his work. My uncle appears at the door and starts shouting about being late. He’s slowly accepting my decision to stay with Angel. It was a shock for him when I decided to keep my relationship with Angel going. He wasn’t bothered about the gay angle, but about my ability to make long term decisions. This time I’ll prove him wrong. After that, Angel moved into my room and we changed the second bedroom into a studio/office. I think Giles does approve of Angel in the small ways. He likes how assertive I’ve become with my lover around. He says they are positive changes, and I think that’s all the praise I’ll ever get out of him. The English are well known not to talk about their feelings, and Giles is no exception.

The exhibition of Angel’s work goes down a complete success. I was expecting boredom to set in, but I spent most of the night making sure all the available women - and not so available - stayed away from him. In the end, I think they got the message. My friends say I’m overprotective of Angel, but they don’t understand his past. They don’t understand why I fear for him, especially when I nearly lost him. Sometimes, I have nightmares about Malloy turning up and raping him again. I dream about coming home and finding Angel dead with the letter M carved into his chest.

With the successful showing of Angel’s work (he sold 6 paintings!), my Uncle decides to have a special dinner and sends me for a Chinese take away. I’m glad he doesn’t want to go out for dinner, because later all I want to do is have hot passionate sex with Angel. It’s been so hard just keeping my hands off him all night. On the way home, the Chinese food clutched in my hand, I start to plan our future. A future with Angel. A future...

What the hell? This isn’t right. The door to my home is slightly ajar, and there is only splintered wood where the lock used to be. Oh god, no!

“Angel!” I scream, pushing the door wide open, the food dropping, forgotten from my hands. “Angel!”

Nothing. The hall is silent... Wait, a minute... I suddenly remember my Uncle buying a gun when he first moved to America. It’s only small, but he always kept it in the hall and loaded. I had an immensely long and tedious lecture about how I’m never allowed to touch it. I dive for the sideboard in the hall, shoving aside papers and odds and ends. I know it’s in one of these drawers. It has be here... it has... Got it!! I check it’s loaded, and it is.

“Angel!” I call again, this time more confidently, as I hold the gun out before me. Behind me there is a muffled noise and I stop dead. There it is again, coming from the main living room. It’s a part of the house we don’t use a lot. Most of my time is spent in my bedroom or the kitchen. I slowly open the door and...

“Shit! Angel!” I cry, my body trembling with fury and fear.

There are three men in the room with my Uncle and Angel. One of them I know as Malloy. The others must be his associates Angel mentioned. My temper boils as I think about them touching Angel. Their filthy bodies pressing against his. I check my Uncle and find he’s basically unhurt. He has a nasty bruise on his head, and is tied securely to a dinning chair; otherwise he’s unharmed. My main concern is Angel.

He’s on the floor before Malloy. His face blackened and bleeding with one eye swollen shut. His clothing has been torn, and in Malloy’s hand he holds a large syringe filled with white liquid.

“Let him go!” I grind out, my gun hand pointing steadily at Malloy.

“Stupid boy,” he laughs.

I really should follow those detective films better. From behind me, another man surges forward and knocks me flying. I crash into the sofa, momentarily winded and the gun spins across the hardwood floor away from my reach. I yell in anger and kick at this new enemy. My leg catches his thigh and he bellows in pain. Good! Unfortunately, I’m a little outnumbered and soon all three of Malloy’s associates surround me.

“Tie him up,” Malloy orders them, “he isn’t the reason we’re here.”

I’m pulled onto my knees and they bind my hands with white plastic ties. Damn things are unbreakable. My ankles get the same treatment and I can’t fucking move. A large piece of duck tape is then roughly pressed over my mouth. When I’m secured, the Pimp turns his attention back to Angel. He kneels on the floor beside him, pushing Angel onto his back. My lover groans, and I realise he must have taken a hard hit to the head. There is a large cut above his hairline, which is the cause of the blood.

“Hello, my pretty boy,” Malloy murmurs stroking Angel’s face.

Angel moans in distress, trying to pull away from the hand, but gasping in pain from his head wound.

“You really shouldn’t have run from me, Angel. I own you. You can’t just walk away from me. I thought I had taught you that lesson. Didn’t we learn anything from that night?”

Angel’s eyes widen in fear, and he backs away. Malloy grabs his arm and pulls him back. Angel’s hands try desperately to push Malloy’s men away as they strip him of his shirt, and start unbuckling his pants. Angel cries out in terror and begs them to stop. He acts as if drunk and I think he’s got a concussion. With one fast movement, Malloy backhands him and Angel falls back onto the floor, yelling in pain as he hits his head again. Tears burn my eyes and I scream inside knowing I can’t help him! I think I’m going to lose him. When Angel is naked, Malloy spreads his legs and shoves a couple of fingers inside his ass. Angel cries in pain and desperately tries to escape the burning agony.

“I own you. You’re my whore, Angel. No one has ever left me. If they try, I just have to make an example of them. Don’t I, boys?” Malloy looks up at his partners and they laugh, sharing the private joke.

Unfortunately, I understand it all now too. Jerome told me about Malloy’s prostitutes. No one has ever left him or lived that long. I see that would be because at the first sign of him or her getting themselves together again, Malloy killed them. Just as he’s going to do with Angel. He’ll rape Angel and then overdose him, just like all the others.

“You were my prettiest boy, Angel. My favourite. Your ass was always so tight when I tore into you.” He strokes Angel’s body, and he struggles desperately. Well, as much as his injuries let him. Malloy shoves two more fingers inside Angel and he screams in response. Angel’s arms flail about while Malloy brings the needle down towards him...

BANG!

The noise reverberates around the room and hurts my eardrums. At first, I don’t understand what happened. I stare at Malloy, who’s looking down at Angel with wide frozen eyes. The syringe drops from his hand, smashing onto the wooden floor. My eyes gaze down to his chest, widening as I watch a patch of red on his shirt grow and spread. Suddenly, the silence is over and the shouting commences. There are two more bangs, and another body falls to the ground. I am shoved over onto my side as the last two of Malloy’s ex-partners push past me and out of the front door. Outside, there is shouting and the sound of a car pulling away at high speed.

I don’t think I know what’s happened. My eyes can’t understand what they see. Before me are two dead bodies. One is Malloy, dead by a shot to the chest. Dead on top of my Angel. Angel who holds the discarded gun in his hand. Angel, who is slowly going into shock, after killing his most feared adversary.

I try desperately to break my bonds but I can’t. Suddenly, a woman’s voice breaks the deadly silence and Joyce Summers comes running in. In her hand she has an enormous kitchen knife, but as soon as she sees the dead body she starts screaming. Thankfully, it doesn’t last too long, and when she notices me beside her at the door, she immediately cuts me free. She babbles in non-coherent sentences, but I don’t have the time to comfort her. I need to get to Angel. I pull the duck tape from my mouth and slowly crawl towards him. Behind me Joyce helps my Uncle free.

“Angel?” I whisper softly, trying not to startle him. Angel doesn’t move, his eyes still attached to Malloy’s dead body. I notice Angel’s body trembling, and he has started to sweat. I reach out and slowly pull the throw from the sofa and slowly crawl towards him.

“Angel?” I ask again, this time into his ear. Angel suddenly seems to process I’m really here and his wide terrified eyes turn to mine. “Angel? It’s okay now; it’s over...”

“W-Will?” he stutters, “Will...”

Angel drops the gun from his hand, and starts to panic as he realises Malloy’s body is touching his. I grab his hands and with my foot shove Malloy off him. In seconds, Angel is pressed against my body, he sobs loudly into my shoulder. I wrap the throw around us and cover his nakedness.

“Oh god, Angel... I nearly lost you...” I weep into his thick hair. I hold him so tight. I don’t think about if he’s hurt, I just need to touch him. I need to know he’s alive, with me... forever.

2nd April 2002

Angel was released from hospital today. He was kept in under surveillance because of the blow to the head. He needed eleven stitches and it will leave a scar. Fortunately, it won’t be seen unless Angel goes bald, which I doubt he will. His other injuries are healing fine and there won’t be any permanent damage. I was so scared when I saw Angel in the hospital. I was terrified that he wouldn’t want me after this. To my amazement however, the first thing he said was how much he wanted to be home, in our bed, making love to me.

My uncle and Joyce arranged a dinner when we arrived home, and Angel was so surprised that they still wanted to know him after all he had done. I know he feels guilty about killing Malloy, but it was that or fie from an overdose. This was the view of the police as well, and upon questioning him, they decided not to press charges. They warned him about his days of prostitution, but my Uncle vowed it would never happen again. He told them that Angel had a home, family and was an upcoming and successful artist.

When everyone had left, and I was allowed time alone with my lover, I gave him my surprising news. We lay in bed, naked from our passion, and I handed him a letter. It was from Pocket books publishing house. They had accepted my novel and would be printing it in the fall. They had even asked for more of the series.

“I love you forever, Will,” Angel whispered as I took him into my arms to sleep.

“My Angel,” I answered.

23rd February 2052

Today is my 68th birthday. It is also the 50th anniversary of my relationship with Angel. Yes, we’ve been together for 50 years. 50 years of loving my Angel. Over time, we’ve grown old and changed, but I still love him. For me, there has never been anyone else. Over the years, Angel has become more outgoing and talkative with people, but ever since Malloy’s death he’s never left my side. You might think 50 years is a long time to be together, totally and completely, but for me its not enough. Angel needs me, but I need Angel just as much.

I’ve become a successful writer, but like always, I can only write in Angel’s presence. My novels are bestsellers, and I was the first Gay writer to win worldwide acclaim for my Angel & Spike novels, which are still going today. I don’t just write those however. I write mystery, murder, horror, and yes I even tried my hand at romance. Of course it was under another name, but I was rather pleased with it. I wrote about a prostitute who saved someone’s life and they fell in love. It was the bestseller for a whole year.

Angel has done well with his paintings. The last one sold for an amazing one million dollars. He donated most of the money to the local children’s home, which keeps kids off the streets. I don’t mind him doing that, since the Children’s home is named Kathy’s Children’s Protectorate, after his sister. With my business and writing, we spend most of the time living in LA, but when things get stressed, we move back to Sunnydale and the house my uncle left me in his will. That is our sanctuary, our real home.

When we come home, all our friends arrive and their children surround us. I’m uncle to so many of them, I can’t remember all their names. It’s nice being the uncle. They come and visit, play and then they go home again. Thank god! I remember when I was much younger being asked by an interviewer if I regretting not getting married and having children. Angel’s face had fallen with that question; there have been times when he’s asked me the same. In private, I’d take him to bed and don’t let him leave until I’ve convinced him how much I love him. In the interview, I took Angel’s hand and gave a straight answer: “No.”

Anyway back to today. My friends have planned a huge party for Angel and myself. A double celebration for my birthday and our anniversary. Angel hates the big parties, and he’ll be at my side all the time. He might be 70, but women and men still give him the once over. At least now when he won’t leave my side, I don’t have to worry about anyone making passes at him. He’s aged so well, his hair is still thick, but now pure white. His body is well muscled and he still exercises every day. He says that it’s keeps us from taking Viagra, so I keep myself in good shape too. I think that even on my deathbed I’ll want to make love to Angel. Angel says I’ve hardly changed at all in the past 50 years. Still lithe, thin and with fine blond hair. I did go though a phase of having it blue, but then Angel started laughing while having sex, remembering that time he replaced the soap with toilet blue and dyed my hand. I bleached it the next day. I couldn’t have anyone thinking I’d stuck my head down the toilet, now could I?

It’s nearly time for the party and Angel puts down his paints. He slides onto the chair beside me and wraps his arms around my waist.

“So, Angel and Spike still going?” he enquires.

“Yeah,” I answer distracted. Sometimes I wish that was us. That we were vampires, living and loving forever. That we would be immortal and even when the world crumbles to dust, we would still be here, and still in love.

“Angel, still worrying about his hair gel?” asks my Angel, “and has Spike got over his big bad attitude yet?”

“Hey, he’s a big bad, evil Vampire. Don’t forget that. Angel’s the one with the guilt problem. He’s the one who has to get over the remorse attitude.”

Angel laughs and kisses me lightly. He can’t get off that easily. I pull him closer and kiss him again, this time my tongue mapping out the inside of his mouth. I slide one hand down the front of his shirt to his slacks and I grin. He’s hard.

“Want to be fashionably late?” I whisper into his ear as I suck his earlobe.

“Why?” he murmurs back, his hands running down my back to grope at my ass.

“I wanna fuck you,” I answer, kissing him harshly.

“Such language,” he scolds.

“Yeah, you love it.”

“Then fuck me,” he begs.

I pull him to his feet and into our bedroom. We fall onto the bed, our lips meeting again as our hands caress.

It doesn’t matter that we aren’t vampires. That we will grow old and die. We shall have eternity, because our love shall last forever. Even if it’s only remembered in the written words of my stories of Angel and Spike. We shall be remembered always, and in the next life, even if I come back as William the bloody... Spike, I shall always love Angel... my Angel... my sire... my Angelus.



The End.