His

“Come on, be nice or we’ll never get out of here.”

Buffy’s words didn’t sound half convincing enough to Spike, and he just smiled against her hair as he ran soapy fingers over her skin.

“I thought I was being nice,” he purred seductively.

One of his hands slid down over her stomach, gently rubbing the patch of curls before dropping between her thighs. The other hand was massaging her breast, alternating between the two soft mounds of flesh.

“Spike…” she growled, and it was half a reproach, half a plea.

A long finger slipped past her tender folds, finding wetness that had nothing to do with the shower. He stilled then, perfectly immobile against her back, a finger in her, thumb pressed against her clit, and his other hand cradling a perky nipple.

“You want me to stop, luv?” he asked teasingly.

Her only answer was to grind her ass against his erection.

“I take that as a no, then.”

Flicking his thumb against the engorged bit of flesh a few times, he resumed caressing her breast, light touches becoming slowly rougher. His middle finger was joined by two more, and she moaned softly in rhythm to his slow pumping.

He pressed his chest to her back, gently forcing her upper body down until she needed to place her hands on the tiled wall for support. He nudged her legs apart with his, his fingers abandoning her breast and cunt to hold her hips steady. She gave a small moan of protest then, which was quickly followed by a louder one, of pleasure this time, as he slipped inside her in one long and slow motion.

He could only marvel at how nicely warm the hot water had made her in his hands. He missed, sometimes, the way her scalding heat had enveloped him, the mind shattering contrast between her fire and his coldness. But the regrets never lasted long. How could he think on what was long gone, when she was right here, around him, thrusting in time with his movement, delighted little noises escaping her throat? He felt her clench her vaginal muscles, wrapping him in a tight glove, and he instinctively accelerated his pace. Their bodies slapped together with wet sounds, and soon he couldn’t repress quiet grunts with each forceful thrust, his game face emerging without thought.

Never breaking his rhythm, he reached out around her and gave a sharp twist to her clit. At the same time, he bent down and sank his fangs in her shoulder, drawing only a little mouthful of her sweet blood. She cried out, and the feel of her flesh fluttering wildly around his sent him over the edge with her.

Her body went limp in his arms, and he had the presence of mind to encircle her with both arms, holding her tight to his chest. They remained like this for an instant, both catching the breath they didn’t need. Pulling out of her, he turned her gently in his embrace, until they were chest to chest. Her face rose to his, her eyes still a little misty, and he covered her mouth with his, slowly sliding his tongue against her lips.

“We really, really should get out and get dressed,” she said at last, still a little breathless, as she rested her cheek against his shoulder.

Spike only grinned. Belying her words, her hand had slid between their bodies and was stroking him back to hardness.

With her hair pulled in a tight bun at the nape of her neck and dressed in a conservative dark blue tailored suit, Faith felt very self-conscious as she entered the Hyperion. Low heeled black leather shoes and a matching purse completed her attire. Just as she walked into the lobby, Angel was coming out of his office, his attention on some papers in his hands. He glanced at her, and even smiled, but for a couple of seconds there was no flicker of recognition on his face.

“Can I help…” he started, then stopped as his eyes widened suddenly.

She shifted uncomfortably under his gaze until Fred gently pushed her forward.

“Doesn’t she look great?” the girl asked.

Angel only nodded, and Faith’s cheeks grew hot.

“I feel ridiculous,” she said as she reached to the back of her head and freed her hair from the bun before fluffing it with her fingers.

“It’s just because you’re not used to it yet,” Angel said reasonably. “You really look very professional.”

Fred crossed the hall to her boss, returning his credit card to him along with the receipts for what they had bought. It had been the vampire’s idea to send Faith shopping with the girl. Well, maybe Fred was older than Faith, technically, but her reactions were sometimes strange, almost childish, and Faith couldn’t help the feeling that she was the older of the two.

Angel’s theory was that Faith couldn’t begin a new life unless she started completely from scratch, hence the new wardrobe, which he had insisted on buying for her. Faith was a bit – no, very – uncomfortable with his generosity, especially after she had let Fred convince her to get a couple of high-ticket items along with some cheaper ones. She remembered all too well the last time an older man had been buying things for her. If only…

She shook her head at the direction that her thoughts were taking. She would reimburse Angel as soon as she was able to. First on her list was finding a job, then moving out of the Hyperion, then paying her debts. A new life, with no strings attached. Though she still needed to find out what Buffy’s intentions were. She doubted she would have the guts to kill her in cold blood, but she might decide to simply deliver her to the Council. Faith didn’t want to hurt anyone, but she wouldn’t just give herself in sacrifice either.

Leaving Angel and Fred to their discussion about whether ‘new wardrobe’ had also meant hair salon and make up supplies, Faith walked to the kitchen. It was late in the afternoon, not really time for dinner yet, but they had skipped lunch and she was famished.

Angel’s boy was in the kitchen, his head on the table and his arms over it. Ignoring him as he was ignoring her, she unbuttoned the vest of her suit, leaving it open on the plain white shirt underneath, and explored the cabinets and fridge as if they were hers, settling on cookies and orange juice. She sat down at the table across from Steven. He didn’t move or give any sign of life until she took her first bite.

“Do you need to make that much noise?” he groaned.

“Not my fault the cookies are crunchy,” she replied with a shrug. “What’s wrong with you, kiddo?”

His face came up and he shot her a fierce look – or rather, a look that would have been fierce if his skin hadn’t been a sickly gray hue and his eyes not bloodshot.

“’M not a kid,” he protested. “Let me suffer and die in silence.”

She looked him over a bit, recognizing the signs at last, and couldn’t help smiling a little.

“Bad hangover, uh?”

Steven nodded, instantly realizing his mistake and groaning as he clutched his head.

“I have a little trick for hangovers. Want me to tell…”

“No.”

The voice was firm and made it clear that there was no discussion possible. Faith turned her gaze to Angel as he walked in the kitchen. He crossed his arms and gave his son a severe look.

“No fixing of the after effects,” he continued, implacable. “Next time, this young man will think twice before getting drunk.”

Steven shot his father a nasty glare, and was about to say something when Spike entered the kitchen, chuckling lightly.

“Don’t play the saint, Peaches. I bet you were even younger than the kid when you first got plastered.”

The blonde vampire opened the fridge and retrieved a bag of blood, which he poured into a mug and popped in the microwave. He was wearing a nicely tight black pair of jeans and an unbuttoned red shirt that gave Faith a pleasant view when he turned around. He noticed that she was watching him and smirked at her, amusement and smugness battling in his eyes, as well as something else. He seemed to know something she didn’t, and was very pleased about it.

“What I did is not relevant,” Angel said mildly as he frowned at the other man.

“Yeah, and who do you have to thank for that?”

The two vampires glared at each other, and Faith had the clear feeling that something was going on that she wasn’t aware of.

“At your ages, you should stop behaving like children,” Steven said blandly. “And while we’re at it, stop talking so loudly too.”

Angel threw him an exasperated glance, and the sexy blonde gave him an almost apologetic one.

“Sorry about that, kid. I guess I shouldn’t have ordered anything after that third round, uh?”

Angel scowled at that, and Faith, still munching on cookies, arched an interested eyebrow, wondering what she had missed the previous night by retreating to her room early.

“It’s OK,” Steven said with a half grin. “It was worth it. For everything.”

As he talked, his gaze shifted from Spike to Angel, and his smile widened. Surprisingly, Angel returned the grin warmly. Spike gave a short laugh.

“As long as it stays between the three of us, kid.”

With that, the vampire left, taking the full blood mug with him. After a short hesitation, Angel followed him. Faith couldn’t help wondering what had happened, and the curiosity was almost killing her. Yet, she didn’t question Steven. She was only going to be here a few days. She couldn’t let herself get too interested in what was going on. She needed a new life, and vampires and their kids wouldn’t be a part of it. She might as well start getting used to the idea.

Spike was on his way up the stairs, his eyes on the full mug, not wanting to spill a drop of his Slayer’s snack, when Angel caught up with him and stopped him with a question.

“Last night, when you said you told him everything…? How much detail did you give him?”

Smirking, Spike watched Angel’s tense features. “What’s wrong, Peaches? Feeling ashamed about anything?”

His Sire’s expression became slightly annoyed, as well as embarrassed.

“He’s a child. An impressionable child. I just want to be sure you didn’t tell him anything that could… confuse him.”

Spike laughed out loud. One thing that Angelus had never been was prudish, and that look on Angel was just priceless.

“Afraid of what he might think about his dear daddy sharing his bed with two women and a man?” Spike said sweetly, teasingly. “He was surprised, that’s for sure. But he wanted to know. Now he does. End of story.”

The blood in the mug was getting cold, so Spike turned his back to Angel and started walking away. He was stopped abruptly by Angel grabbing his arm, and the movement made him spill some of his precious cargo. He glared at the older man over his shoulder.

“Let go, Angelus. I’m not going to play your games just now.”

“Don’t call me that!” the brunette growled. “And how can you be so casual about all of it? You traumatize my kid and don’t even care!”

Spike rolled his eyes, getting more irritated each second.

“I traumatized no one,” he hissed. “And I care more than you know. I cared enough to tell him what he wanted and needed to know. And he needed all of it. What are you afraid of? Afraid he’ll copy your exploits? He may be your son, but he’s not that dim. He understands there’s a difference between what vampires do for fun and what humans do. What more do you want?”

Despite the anger that was rising in him, Spike managed to control the level of his voice and keep it low, having no desire to be overheard. But he knew his eyes were probably sparkling with fire. Angel, on the contrary, seemed to remain calm as he listened to him. Too calm. Too quiet. Or did he understand at last? Understand that if he had told the kid himself when he had first come back, he might have avoided all these years of not really knowing where they stood.

“Two more things, Sire,” Spike said icily. “First, if I had wanted him to hate you, you’d be dust by now. And second, if you don’t keep your nose out of me and Buffy’s business, you will be dust.”

“She came to me,” Angel pointed out blankly.

“And your reaction was to jump for my throat,” Spike muttered without looking at him as he walked away. “You should have sent her to me.”

The younger vampire turned one last time to his Sire, giving him a defiant glance. A century before, he had no doubt he would have been beaten for such an audacity.

“She’s my Childe, Angelus. Mine. Mine to teach. No one else’s.” Spike turned again and left a silent Angel standing alone in the hall.