All About Spike

Quieting Syrup
By Tara R.

Rating: NC-17
Summary: Romania, 1898. Angelus and Spike find something else to do on Hallowe'en.
Notes: Spike/Angelus, Spike/Other vaguely. No spoilers.
I'm not certain where this came from. In fact, I'm not sure I want to know. I don't know if it works, if I like it, or if I hate it, so I’m chucking it out into the cold to fend for itself. See what you think.
Warnings: Please do not read if you are underage in your area. Story contains references to violence, sex and other naughty things.
Usual disclaimer stuff: Everything here is the property of Mutant Enemy et al and no copyright infringement is intended. This is a non-profit enterprise. Unfortunately...
With thanks to Janey, Loola, Rahnak and Charlotte for putting up with me saying "Ooh, then you can read it now! You don't mind, do you?"

“How would you like your punishment, Will?”

He surfaced slowly, wrists and jaw aching, mouth bone-dry.

The light in the room was deep red, filtering through the shabby curtains and smearing the walls in shades of scarlet. Spike realised it was day.

Turning his head to the side he met the gaze of the whore he’d killed, lying beside him close. The pillow was blood-black beneath her head, her eyes were glassy. Underneath her, arranged in a tangle of limbs, was her friend.

Spike frowned slightly; didn’t Angelus get rid of them?

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Angelus said softly in his ear.

Angelus was lying beside him, and Spike turned onto his side. Why are we still here? he wanted to say, It’s past dawn; we should go back to the hotel.

But Spike’s eyes slid shut and he felt his body ebb and flow, pulling him like heavy, flattening waves, dragging against rock and sand. The bed dipped. He fell forward, his body draped over Angelus.

“Will?” Angelus nudged Spike in the ribs, and tried to push him away.

“Quiet, love,” he muttered woozlily.

There was a pause. “Spike, get off me,” Angelus said sharply, more awake now, holding Spike by the shoulders. Spike kissed his neck. “Spike—” Angelus’ growl was cut off abruptly as Spike nudged his head to one side and bit, lightly on the mouth-watering curve of shoulder and throat. Angelus swallowed tightly. “Spike, wake up.” He shook him, hard.

“Mmphm,” Spike murmured, and bluntly bit down again, harder, sucking slightly, bringing the blood to the surface. Angelus felt his erection begin to return.

“Spike, dammit, stop— ah!” Spike had vamped out and sunk his fangs into Angelus’ neck.



Bucharest, 1898

The house was on a still, dirty street in the poorest part of Bucharest. The paintwork was flaking, spidery cracks sliced the light from a window on the second floor, and the uneven gap at the bottom of the front door illuminated a worn front step.

The house was referred to jokingly by the locals as Cine intră fără tocmeală iese fără socoteală.

Rain pattered down. It danced along bare branches, slid down black, glossy bark, and puddled in the cracked pavement. It tapped the windows, fingered the mossy leaves on the ground and steadily dripped into a chamber-pot in the master bedroom at the front of the house.

The city was deadly silent.

“Have you read that book?” asked Spike. The tinny plink of rainwater into the chamber-pot accompanied the squeak of the bed.

The prostitute looked at him blankly and kept moving.

“You know,” said Spike, “that new book. What’s it called?” He turned his head.

Angelus, lounging on a day-bed nearby, glanced up impatiently. “What book?”

“That book with the woman… ‘Mona? Mina — And that bloke falls in love with her? Dru was banging on about it.”

Angelus’ lips parted in a little feral smile. “Dracula.”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s it.” Spike grinned back and then caught the prostitute’s eye again. “Have you read it?”

She continued to look at him blankly.

“’S good, innit Angelus?”

“…it has its moments.” Angelus was only partly paying attention, attention fixed on the woman with her head in his lap. She had dark hair and eyes. He wanted to take one back for Dru – she’d like the glitter—

“Yeah,” grinned Spike. He glanced at his whore again. “Drac-u-la.” He enunciated slowly.

“Nu înţeleg,” said the whore. “Îmi pare rău, nu vorbesc englezeşte.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Can I show her?”

“Fucking hell, does nothing shut you up?” Angelus snapped, pulling the woman up and into his lap.

“Couple of things,” said Spike, raising an eyebrow.

“A beating?”

“That’s one of ‘em.”


“Jesus,” shuddered Angelus as Spike began to pull. His erection felt instantly heavy and swollen; ready. Spike’s body rubbed against his, and Angelus’ hands tightened fiercely on his shoulders. He wanted to push him off – this was unprecedented, a breach of protocol... just not done. Darla would have staked him for biting her without permission.

He wanted to pull him closer.

Spike pulled slowly, almost delicately, a heartbeat that was echoed by the languorous rock of their bodies. It was maddening. Their erections slid together stickily, smearing Angelus’ stomach.

Spike breathed steadily. In and out, hot breath on Angelus’ neck. Hot.

Angelus’ head tipped slightly, tentatively, to one side, and he felt Spike’s tongue work the bites.

Amândoi au iesit di pulbere si amândoi în pulbere se întorc,” muttered Angelus.


The woman leant over the side of the bed and rustled around in a drawer of the bedside table. The bed was rumpled, stained sheets pulled away from an equally suspect mattress, the patchy velvet drapes so dusty they made Spike want to sneeze.

Spike ran a leisurely hand over the curve of her bottom, down to the silken roll of her stocking-tops. His fingers crept down a ladder.

“This place is really classy, Angelus.” He said sarcastically.

“Mmm,” Angelus murmured from beside him, an arm flung over his eyes.

“I'm hungry,” muttered Spike, eyeing the juicy curve of bottom again. He rubbed his stomach with a leisurely hand.

“Tonight isn’t the night,” was the reply.

“Still hungry,” Spike muttered, lips tight.

Spike’s prostitute pulled herself back onto the bed, carrying with her a plain bottle. It had an old, worn label on it. Spike made out the word somnolenţă. She knelt on the bed and unscrewed the lid, taking a slow drink and offering it to her friend.

“What’s that?” Spike asked. It looked like medicine. The bottle was flat and dull, the liquid inside molasses.

The prostitute shrugged and took another swig, then offered it to Spike. He sat up, the linens pooling around his waist.

“I wouldn’t,” said Angelus quietly. “Cheap laudanum or some such.” He glanced over briefly. “Don’t want to have to carry you home.”

Spike rolled his eyes and took the bottle anyway, raising it to his nose to sniff. It smelt tinny and chemical, with a burn to it like cheap alcohol. He was tempted to drink it anyway, just to piss Angelus off. Always good for a laugh.

“No, thanks, love. Have you got any brandy?… BRAN-DEE?”

She still looked at him blankly and he sighed and looked at the ceiling. Directly above him, a cockroach paused, antennae bobbing.

“Listen, Angelus, can we eat and run? I'm bored.”

“No.” Angelus sat up and ran an irritated hand through his hair. “You know we can’t.”

“But it’d be funny.” Spike laughed. “That bloody book was set around here somewhere, wasn’t it? Well, this part of the world, anyway. Imagine the reactions… true-life vampire killings!”

Angelus settled back against the greying pillows and closed his eyes. “Not tonight.”

Spike sighed loudly. “Just ‘cause it’s All Hallows Eve? Didn’t know you were so superstitious, old man.”


Spike’s fangs withdrew, his body still moving against Angelus’ slowly, so slowly, until he started to slide downwards.

Hot, his entire body was burning up. Heart racing, in his throat and skin, sizzling. He could smell the rain and meadows from back home. He wanted to be back home.

Spike slid his lips over Angelus’ cock and his sire cut short a breathy groan – Jesus, he was starting to sound like a woman, he thought, disgusted. But Spike was… so good at… oh, yes, that.

Spike’s hand batted away a fly. Lips moving up and down deadly slow, tongue licking over the head, sliding wetly, curling into the sweet spot. Slow pulling, cheeks hollowed, and Angelus arched his back, cursing. His fingers curled into Spike’s hair, slightly gritty.

Spike’s fingers grasped grass and turf underneath, soil under his fingernails, an insect skittering up the inside of his thigh. Little wings. Little buzzing.


The prostitute put the bottle back onto the table; a drop slid down the side and pooled on the flaking varnish. She lay down beside him. Her eyes were heavy, glossy, rich. Dru would like them, he thought briefly.

She lifted a hand and ran it over his stomach. His hungry stomach. He smiled.

“Wanna see a trick?” Spike whispered to her, teasingly, and placed his hand on her waist. She grinned a little unsteadily and he rolled her onto her back, settling between her legs.

“I could show you a real Dracula,” he whispered in her ear. His breath tickled her - she giggled a little and lifted her shoulder slightly. He nuzzled her ear, running his tongue around the rim.

The woman stretched underneath him; warm toffee. Spike slid down and placed his head on her chest. Her heart thumped, slow as treacle.

"I’m a monster,” he said.

Angelus huffed a laugh. “Got a bit of the dramatics in you tonight, boy.”

Spike grinned, slowly. “Yeah, I want a bit of drama. Don’t I, pretty?” he asked the girl, who wasn’t. Her eyes were barely open, now, and a dreamy smile stretched across her face.

Drăguţ,” she slurred, and tapped her fingers on his eyebrow. Her arm dropped back to the bed.

“Huh?” Spike turned his head. “What did she say?” Angelus opened one eye and gave him a considering look. “Actually, no, I don’t care.”


The earth pulsed. Thick, thick rain fell from the sky, drooling from branches and laying over their bodies. Spike’s lips slipped wetly down over Angelus’ cock.

“Little insect,” Dru whispered, walking her fingers along his spine. Her nails were long and twisted.

Angelus’ hand tightened in Spike’s hair and pulled his head back.

“Will?” he asked, and shook him slightly.

Spike smiled slowly and licked his lips. He vamped out and sunk his teeth into Angelus’ thigh.

“Fuck!” groaned Angelus, head tipping back.

The pitch and coal sky oozed, black like blood. Spike fed. The insects burrowed into his skin, his bone and nails.


“Mine’s going to sleep,” said Spike, disgruntled, as her heart slowed even more. She was flushed, hot to the touch. “Wake up little kitten,” he whispered to her. Her eyes closed.

She breathed steadily, slowly. He could hear a rattle in her lungs. It disgusted him. “Hey… whatever your name is: rise and shine!” He cupped a breast and pinched the nipple, hard. She breathed through her mouth.

“Hey, wake up!” he shook her slightly. He held himself over her and pulled open her eyelids. Nothing. He was tempted to poke.

“Bloody hell, she really is going to sleep. She hasn’t even blown me yet— Oi!” He pulled her up and shook her again. Her head lolled back. “No bloody fair, that’s practically inviting— Wake up, you stupid bint!”

Angelus laughed jeeringly. “The effect you have on women…”

Spike glared. “Fuck this,” he said, vamping out.

Angelus abruptly stopped smiling. His hand tightened on the neck of his whore to stop her in case she decided to look up. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he asked quietly.

“Well, not having sex,” glared Spike. “So… having the other thing.”

Angelus went to sit up, then glanced in irritation at the prostitute now mouthing his dick. “Don’t. You. Dare.” He said in his Sire voice.

“C’mon, don’t you want a bit of fun? I want a bit of fun. This is the most boring holiday ever.” Spike bounced slightly, rocking the bed.

“It’s Hallowe’en. We do not hunt on Hallowe’en. It… just isn’t done. That’s why we’re here, remember?”

Spike rolled his eyes and pressed his tongue to one of his fangs. He looked at the prostitute, considering. Where looked the most tender meat? He remembered her ripe bottom and licked his lips.

“I'll have your hide… Darla will have your hide.”

Spike paused and almost relented. Then he looked down at Angelus, reclining regally, getting what he’d paid for, and grinned darkly.

“Let her.”


All the pleasure in the world came from blood. He felt sly vines growing up and around, pulling him this way and that as he fed, stretching his limbs, pinning him to the body under him, slipping between his legs and tickling him, stroking him, touching him.

Angelus twitched as Spike pulled his fangs out. He slid his tongue over the twin little holes and along and under, between Angelus’ arse cheeks, furtive and hot. A groan as that clever tongue circled him, slipped into him, opened him. Sly worm.

Spike felt them crawling over his back, felt leeches latch onto him, corpulent writhing bodies and skittering shiny backs and fingers and insects crept into his hair, writhing and carding it.

“Don’t stop,” muttered Angelus as Spike plunged his tongue deeper, twisting and pressing, feeling that broad, pale body shivering above him, around him.

He felt himself dissolve until he was made up of earth and rain, glossy beetles and pulsing, pink-ringed worms.

Amândoi au iesit di pulbere si amândoi în pulbere se întorc.


She was so deeply under that she only twitched slightly as Spike drank. It was rather disappointing. Heartbeat so sluggish that the blood oozed, instead of pumped, into his mouth. Instead of a wild rush of fear and heartbeat, she gave slowly unto him.

Spike could feel her lethargy threading into him with her blood. Seeping surely through his throat, down through his organs, out to the tips of his fingers and toes.

Fuck, whatever she’d drunk was good stuff.

He heard Angelus curse and sit up, pulling his girl off swiftly. She sat up in a daze, gasping as Spike sat back, grinning and blood-stained.

Angelus cracked her neck before she could scream.

Thumbing the corners of his mouth, Spike licked it clean and savoured her blood. He couldn’t stop a smug smile from spreading across his face.

“See? World didn’t end. No Ghosts of Vampires Past returning to haunt us.”

Angelus looked at him with black eyes. “Are you happy now?” Angelus asked.

“Happy?” parroted Spike, squinting slightly. The room was suddenly dark and swaying.

“You’re just begging for a beating, aren’t you, boy?” Angelus reached over and angrily dragged Spike’s meal across the bed.

“Huh?” Spike asked, putting a hand to his head.

“A quiet night, that’s all. Is that too much to ask for? Darla will bloody kill me. Again.”

“God, it’s really hot in here,” Spike said, not really paying attention. He shifted on the bed and swallowed, feeling his throat work; he really needed a drink. Glancing to his right he saw the medicine bottle. It would have to do.

Angelus hauled the woman over to the corner and propped her against the wall and wiped her blood off his hands with the drapes.

“Holy Mary, Mother of God; she’s an ugly one.”

Spike held his nose and took a good swig of the liquid. It coated his mouth and burnt his throat going down. It made him want to retch. Not the most thirst-quenching drink, but then Spike couldn’t quite remember that he had even been thirsty.

Stalking back over to the bed, Angelus picked up the prostitute he had killed, holding her in front of him like a doll. Her head tipped back sideways, at an odd angle. It made Spike’s stomach clench.

“Look at what you forced me to do… not someone anyone is really going to miss, but still, it’s the principal of the thing…”

Spike rubbed his eyes dozily. He felt drained, completely exhausted. He wanted to lay down and sleep for a week. The room spun slightly, and glowed red hot. Spike breathed deeply and could feel his heart racing.

He tipped forward and lay face down, hot breath stirring the linen.

Angelus walked back towards the bed. Spike could hear his darkling footsteps advancing and closed his eyes. Fuck this room was hot. And loud.

“Spike?” Angelus said, deadly quiet. He pulled the sash from the drapes. Loose, the swung beside the bed, shady and cool. “Sit Up.”

Spike opened his mouth and his jaw cracked. He heard the material snap taught.

“You have to learn that your actions have consequences.” A large hand wrapped around his neck and pulled him up. “You can’t just do whatever you feel like, whenever you feel like— Spike?”

He was held him up by the scruff of his neck like a puppy, and black eyes stared into his.

“You with me?” he asked. Spike nodded. It was like moving through golden syrup. “Good.” Angelus said.

He let go, and Spike fell backwards, boneless, landing diagonally across the bed. Angelus climbed after him, straddling his hips, pulling the bedding out further with his knees, stretching the curtain cord between his hands.

Spike lay dazed a spinning, and looked up at Angelus towering over him, eyes furious and empty.

“Oh fuck,” he said drowsily, and passed out.


He surfaced slowly, wrists and jaw aching, mouth bone-dry.

The light in the room was deep red, filtering through the shabby curtains and smearing the walls in shades of scarlet. Spike realised it was day.

“Shh,” Angelus whispered. He rolled slightly, an arm reaching across Spike’s body to the broken whore. He threaded a lock of her dark hair between his fingers. Her body tipped to one side. She blinked.

“How would you like your punishment, Will?” Angelus asked.

The End

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