I Have An Appointment With Eternity...

by Saber ShadowKitten
PG-13 Version





Part Six





The skirmish had lasted a week so far and was still going strong. A week filled with pacing and nail-biting and swearing, as Spike was confined to Angel's quarters while the dark-haired vampire flew in the firefight. Not many were brave enough to try and take on a Council of Planets' starship, but there were few renegade groups who tried from time to time.

This was one of those times.

Spike felt useless, a feeling he absolutely abhorred, while the small battle was waged in space. If it were a land battle, he'd be right in there, leading the fighters himself. He wasn't lying when he'd told Angel's class he'd been a NCO in the Lightning War. He had also been in smaller wars on many of the planets throughout the years, giving orders and direction to whichever side he was championing.

But in space there was nothing he could do, nothing he knew how to do, and it ticked him off. If it wasn't his sire out there, he would have been using the hectic atmosphere on the ship to line his own pockets and offer 'comfort' to those worrying about their loved ones involved in the battle. Instead, he was one of those worriers, wearing a hole in the carpet between the bedroom and the main door.

*****

"Rig, I need more aft thruster!" Angel yelled out of the cockpit. His eyes flew over the colored lights, his fingers flipping switches and turning dials at an unnatural speed. "Check the dampers on the coolant coils, I'm getting a warning light!"

Flashes of red and green flew past the cockpit window, as the battle raged on around Lightning's Lady. Angel sat in the pilot's seat, dressed in his flight gear, a well-worn leather jacket thrown over the arm of Rigby's co-pilot's seat. A burst of fire shot out of the twin blasters mounted to the hopper, as he pulled the trigger on the stick. The opposing spacecraft that had been heading right towards him veered off, and Angel dove after him.

"Crap, sir! Warn me before we go diving!" Rigby's metallic voice shouted up at him.

"Sorry," Angel muttered, keeping his eyes trained on the craft he was chasing.

"Toggle the E5 switch!"

Without looking, Angel flipped the switch up and down as instructed with one hand, as his other hit the trigger again. Dark red beams of energy flew through space at the renegade's craft and it exploded into a large fireball. "Oops," he said, shoving the stick forward while yanking back on the speed control. The hopper shot through flames, setting the interior alarms off, as Lightning got singed.

Rigby came rushing back into the cockpit, slapping his hand over the alarm silence button, then slipping into the co-pilot's seat. His metallic fingers flew over the control console, the chair spinning as he worked the controls beside him, as well as above him. When another alarm sounded, the Andinite was on his feet again, hurrying out of the cockpit, muttering to himself about how they should have scrapped the hopper centuries ago.

Angel grinned despite the seriousness of the situation. He and Rigby had easily fallen back into the pattern of working together on the hopper, practically reading each other's thoughts and anticipating each other's moves. The craft was held together by spit and duct tape and a lot of luck, but she flew like a dream and packed quite a wallop, thanks to the improvements the two of them had made over the centuries.

"Damn it, sir, when the hell was the last time you checked the fire extinguisher!"

Angel shook his head as the telltale odor of smoke hit his nose. It was just like old times.

*****

Spike growled as he stomped down the corridor. He was planning to get shit-faced and stay that way until Angel returned or Angel was dead. He hadn't seen his sire since the wanker had literally flown off into the fight, the pilots choosing to sleep aboard their crafts in the hanger when they came in to rest or for repairs instead of returning to their quarters. In fact, he didn't really even know if his sire was still alive, seeing as how no one would tell him anything.

He hadn't slept in almost two weeks and knew that he looked like something a cat threw up, but he didn't care. He was sick and tired of waiting and worrying in the suite like a damnable house-husband. He should be taking advantage of the situation, not moping around. He should be shagging some sweet thing into unconsciousness, be it a male, female or unidentifiable.

He growled again and smacked the bulkhead hard as he entered the deserted bar. The ugly red emergency lighting was still blinking overhead, but the klaxon alarm had been silenced within a few hours of the start of the battle. The bartender was sitting on a stool behind the long counter that lined one side of the room, bottles of multi-colored liquor behind him on the shelves.

Spike sat down at a stool and glared at the man. "Sa'ardian, now, and leave the bloody bottle," he ordered. His choice of liquor would have him forgetting his own name by the time half the bottle was empty.

The bartender set the bright orange Sa'ardian down before him along with a shot glass, then returned to his seat and his book. Spike poured himself a shot and drank it down, then repeated the action three more times before pausing to take a very-much needed gulp of air. His insides felt as though they were being ripped out with a dull butter knife as the Sa'ardian worked its way down to his gullet.

It was just the way wanted it.

*****

"Well?" Rigby said, looking down the open flooring in the deck at his dark-haired companion. The hopper jolted and jarred with each hit it took, the deflector shields on Lightning's Lady the only thing protecting them from becoming spacedust.

"We're in deep shit," Angel replied, drawing his arm back to bang on the machinery with the tool in his hand in anger. The hopper whined and a bolt of electricity danced along the paneling, then the engines whirred back to life.

Angel grinned up at his pal, streaks of grease decorating his face. "Or not."

*****

"Come on, you stupid machine," Spike grumbled, stumbling slightly as he stabbed at the buttons outside a holodeck room. The quarter-full bottle of Sa'ardian was in his other hand, sloshing up the sides as he tried not to fall over. "Will you bloody work already?"

The door slid open in front of him and he nodded his head in satisfaction. "'Bout bloody time." Staggering forward, he entered the holodeck and looked around. He had no clue what he had selected, only that his sire's name had been the first half of the selection.

It was night in the holographic world, and in front of him was the beginning of a grassy hill that rose as far up as he could look before he almost fell backwards as he lost his balance. With a frown, he took a fortifying drink and started up the hill.

*****

"YYYYYYYYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA!!!"

"You said it, sir!"

Angel rolled the hopper in a tight circle, the shots from the fighter on his tail whizzing past their craft. Once they got Lightning up and movable again, they dropped the shields back to their proper settings and used quick thinking, skill and a bit of luck to avoid getting hit. If the shields stayed on full, the power to the other functions was reduced, including weaponry, speed and maneuverability.

They'd been in space for sixteen days straight, fighting alongside the other Council of Planets' fighter pilots and a few others who were just hitching a ride, but didn't mind getting involved in a good skirmish. There was no real night or day, only endless blackness as far as the eye could see, punctuated by the flash of energy bolts and the lights from the various ships.

Like they had in the past, Angel and Rigby took turns power-napping twenty-minutes apiece every ten hours. They fed from the replicator on board, drinking down both of their liquid sustenance. When they were both awake, they ran back and forth all over the ship, adjusting settings, rerouting energy to maximize performance, and making haphazard repairs. An old shoelace held the landing gear doors closed. A piece of bubblegum kept the pilot's chair from spinning erratically.

They changed off piloting fluidly, without hesitation or pause. Even mid-fire, they could change controllers in a second, never missing a shot. They could communicate without words despite the fact Rigby's face was never-changing. Their vast difference in sizes made working together simpler rather than harder, the Andinite being able to squeeze into tiny spaces while the vampire was able to easily fix things above their heads.

Most importantly, they had fun.

"There goes that damper warning again," Angel said, executing a complete loop and coming up behind the slower fighter that was tailing them. "Take it."

Rigby grabbed the stick, sliding it along the hand-built track over in front of the copilot's chair, and hit the trigger. The sound of the hopper's weapons firing accompanied Angel as he left the cockpit and hopped down into the open flooring. After one look at the components, he unzipped his flightsuit and let it drop around his waist, then yanked his dirty, white tank-shirt over his head.

A moment later, the shirt was shoved between the two coolant pipes and the warning light went off.

*****

There was a tree at the top of the hill. A giant oak tree, lush and green and full, just begging for someone to come and sit under it.

Spike plopped down on the ground and took another long swallow of liquor. The bottle flopped beside him and the blond vampire turned his blurry eyes to the view. "Oh, now this is nice," he said in amazement.

The valley spread out below him, perfectly picturesque under the full moonlight in the night sky. He could see colors, a patchwork pattern of deep greens, browns, and golds. A small town lay beyond the fields, the sloping roofs aligned just so along the black stripes of the streets. Trees of all shapes and sizes surrounded the town, a green forest stretching out behind it as far as he could see.

Spike leaned his head back against the bark of the tree and felt a sense of peace steal upon him. His eyes drifted shut a few moments later and he let the sounds of the holographic night lull him to sleep.

*****

"Uh, Rigby?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Are you planning on shooting down this asshole, or shoving us up his asshole?"

"Nag, nag, nag. Side-seat flyer."

"Now I know why I went into teaching."

*****

Spike groaned and put a hand over his face. Hangover, he thought, then wished he hadn't thought anything. His mouth was glued shut, and it was possible something crawled in it and died. His head was pounding so hard, others could probably hear it. With a second groan, he pried open his eyes.

And tried not to scream.

He shoved himself to his feet, his back scraping the bark off the tree, as he used it as a prop. He waited for the inevitable burning, his eyes squeezed shut again, as the sun started to rise in the horizon.

It didn't.

One eye cracked open, then the other, when he didn't immediately burst into flames. His mouth parted and a small gasp of amazement escaped him. Gold and dripping in fullness, the air shimmered around the sun as it rose, bathing the valley below him, causing the dark colors he had seen the night before blaze into brilliant, vibrant hues.

"Fuck," he whispered in complete and utter awe. He sunk back down to the ground, his vest and shirt riding up, the bark scratching his skin.

He sat there in the same spot, watching the colors of the valley change as the sun climbed the sky, until it set on the other side of the horizon.

Then he waited so he could see it again.

*****

"Twenty-years, partner," Angel said, as he ran a filthy hand through his flattened, non-washed, dirty hair. His other hand flipped various switches, powering down Lightning's Lady back in the hanger, nineteen full days after the start of the skirmish. "That's how long I'm going to sleep."

"You and me both, sir," Rigby said, his own metal fingers shutting down the controls, too. "After I take a long, hot oil-bath." The Andinite made noises like he was sniffing the air. "I would highly recommend you follow the same course."

Angel grinned. "I do smell kinda ripe."

"You could peel the hull off the hopper."

"Rigby, shut up."

"Shutting up, sir."

The dark-haired vampire shook his head and stood. His unzipped flightsuit gaped open, exposing a streaked, dirty, slightly burned chest from the numerous repairs made over the days. "You coming?" he asked, glancing down at Rigby, still in the co-pilot's seat.

"You go ahead," Rigby replied. "I want to check a few things before I close up shop."

"Will do," Angel said. He set his hand on the Andinite's shoulder. Rigby turned to look up at him, his golden eyes glowing in the dim cockpit. "Why did we give this up again?"

"To have a home," Rigby answered. "It was time."

"Yeah," Angel sighed and dropped his hand to his side. "Home." He looked out of the cockpit window to the busy hanger. "We did good, didn't we?"

"We sure did, sir," Rigby said.

"The perfect team."

"Like two nuts in a sac."

Angel groaned. "Goodnight, Rigby," he said, then turned and headed out of the cockpit.

After descending the ramp, the vampire looked over the outer hull of his spacecraft, a smile tugging at his mouth. Reaching out, he patted her side. "Thanks, old girl," he said. "You did it again."

He nodded a greeting to a fellow pilot and joined him in conversation as they left the hanger. All the pilots used the cargo lift, rather than the main lifts, in order to avoid getting dirt and grease everywhere. Black footprints could be seen running along the carpeted corridor, going to the various doors that made up deck two, as the pilots returned to their suites.

Angel rubbed his eyes as he entered his own suite, debating on whether or not to forego the shower and just sleep. He really didn't care that he smelled like old gym socks, and he'd be happy to toss his sheets into the incinerator once he woke up. Having made the decision, he hit the button on his wrist communicator and spoke into it. "Angel to Sheila."

"Sheila," the starship school's principal's voice answered over the communicator.

"I'm keeping classes on hold until I catch up on my sleep, okay?"

"That's fine, Angel," Sheila replied. "Glad to hear you're still alive."

Angel chuckled. "Glad to be alive, Sheila. I'll let you know when I'll be ready to take on the little horrors again. Angel out." Releasing the communicator button, he turned to head into his bedroom and froze.

Spike stood in the doorway, the dim lighting in the living room highlighting his shirtless torso. Bare toes dug into the carpet as the blond vampire stood there, staring at Angel with his intense blue eyes. The cargo pants he wore were unbuttoned and were riding low on his lean hips, and his hair was slightly mussed from sleep.

Home.

The thought struck Angel like lightening, causing him to inhale sharply. This was why he had stopped star-hopping and took a job on a Council starship. This was why he'd created a holodeck program and labeled it in that manner. This was home to him.

Spike was home.





Part Seven



"I'm back." It was most likely the stupidest greeting he'd ever given, but Angel wasn't thinking too clearly at that moment. The only picture-perfect thought looping through his brain was home.

"So I see," Spike said, his voice flat and emotionless.

Angel stared at his childe a moment longer, then took a deep breath and grimaced at the smell of himself. "I'm going to take a bath."

Spike nodded once, a barely perceptible movement of his head. Angel gave him a half-hearted smile, then turned to head to the bathroom. He'd taken two steps, and then found his path blocked by the blond vampire. "I wouldn't get too close," Angel said. "I st-"

Angel's warning was cut off by a fist connecting with the underside of his jaw. His head snapped up, then he looked down at Spike, stunned by the blow. "What the hell was that for?!"

"That was for making me turn into a soddin' nancyboy," Spike stated, glaring up at his sire. With the older vampire in his boots and Spike barefooted, Angel towered over the blond by close to a foot.

"Excuse me?" Angel blinked in confusion. "I did wh-"

This time, Angel's sentence was cut off by Spike's mouth pressed to his. The younger man's hands were clenched around Angel's unzipped flightsuit, forcing him down to Spike's level. Surprise caused Angel not to react for several seconds, but then the soft, insistent pressure of Spike's lips against his broke through to him, and he brought his hand up to cup the back of the blond's head as he began to kiss Spike back.

A slight chill ran down his spine when Spike's tongue brushed against his lower lip, seeking entry. Angel parted his lips, his own tongue darting out to invite Spike's in. The world around him fell away as the kiss deepened and became more intense. Angel's other hand had gone around Spike's waist, his large palm spanning the younger man's lower back, pulling him closer.

A quiet rumble of pleasure caressed Angel's ears, as Spike released his grip on the flightsuit. The light brush of fingertips against the exposed skin of his chest made Angel respond with his own soft sound of encouragement. Their tongues tangled together, moving back and forth between their mouths, neither one battling for dominance.

Slowly, they broke apart, and Angel opened his eyes to see Spike lick his bottom lip, followed by his rubbing his lips together, as if prolonging the sensation of being kissed. Then Spike opened his eyes and Angel was drowning in twin pools of desire. He felt his defenses being stripped away by the younger man's glittering blue gaze, but instead of making him feel exposed, he felt as though he was being worshipped, as though he was the center of Spike's world.

Spike was a lover, Angel thought. Of that there was no question. Spike had been born, grew to a beautiful man, and then brought into eternal life because he was to be a lover in every sense of the word. Those that the vampire had been with undoubtably were left feeling as if they were the most desired, most perfect, most physically satisfied creature in the universe. He'd bet for days, maybe even weeks or months afterwards, they would glow from their encounter with Spike and subsequent bedmates would pale in comparison.

Angel had succumbed to the younger man before because of his stripping gaze, but that had been a hologram created from a memory scan. The real man was standing inches from him at that moment, and the intensity behind the ice blue orbs rendered the holographic William into a cross-eyed buffoon.

"What was that for?" Angel finally asked in a slightly shaky voice.

Spike rubbed the pad of his thumb in a small circle on Angel's chest, his eyes never leaving his sire's. "I've always had a thing for dirty fighter pilots who stank worse than Danth'op dung," he whispered, the words tumbling from his lips in a low, caressing tone.

Angel's lips twitched as he tried to suppress his smile, but mirth bubbled inside of his chest until he could not prevent it from escaping him. Spike grinned mischievously up at him as he let go with his laughter. There was no doubt left in his mind, as he tightened his grip on the back of his childe's head and shoved Spike's face into his smelly armpit -- he had found home.

"Fuck, Angel!" Spike yelled, shoving against his sire with all his might. He broke out of Angel's grasp and glared at the older man, a slightly green tinge to his skin. "Bloody hell, were you trying to kill me?!"

"You're already dead," Angel pointed out. His hand darted out to ruffle Spike's mussed hair. "I'm going to take that bath."

"Good," Spike said, batting Angel's hand away. "Wanker."

With a happy smile, Angel walked around Spike and headed into the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. He turned on the faucet over the tub and hit the plug, then dug around in the cabinet for some Goop. He didn't bother filling the tub all the way, considering the water would be black by the time he got all the grease off of himself.

Washrag in hand, Angel settled down in the warm water and began the long, arduous task of cleaning himself after nineteen bathless days. He winced when he rubbed the blackened, dirty skin over his burns. His arms and chest always got the brunt of his injuries from flying Lightning, mostly caused from improvising repairs or smothering small fires.

"Okay, this hurts," he groaned, washing off a particularly nasty gash on the inside of his elbow that he had gotten that day. The wound started to bleed, adding red to the black water. "Oh yeah, this hurts a lot."

"Need some help?"

Angel hadn't heard the door swish open and jumped slightly at Spike's voice. He turned his head and saw the blond vampire standing in the doorway. "What I need is to have my head examined," he replied, hitting the drain-stopper with his toe. "I'm a teacher, not a pilot."

Spike smirked and entered the bathroom, shutting the door behind him. "Could have fooled me," he said, coming to stand by the edge of the tub. He looked down at the mucky water swirling down the drain. "Now that's disgusting."

"No shit," Angel said, trying to push himself up out of the tub so he could wash it out, then refill it. Instead, all he managed to do was groan.

The blond vampire bent and slid his arms under his sire's, then assisted him to his feet. "You don't look much cleaner," Spike commented, helping Angel out of the tub. "But the smell is much more tolerable."

"Spike, shut up," Angel sighed. He raised his hand and rubbed his eyes. "Damn, I'm tired."

Spike gently shoved Angel out of the way, then quickly cleaned out the tub and started to refill it with hot water. When he turned to Angel, a smile pulled up the corner of his mouth. The older vampire was literally asleep on his feet, leaning back against the sink, his chin dropped to his chest. "Angel, your bath's ready," he said quietly, lightly touching his sire's arm.

"Mm-hmm," Angel responded, not opening his eyes or moving. Spike chuckled softly, shut off the tap, then grabbed a towel and patted the older vampire dry. When that didn't stir Angel, Spike knew nothing short of another klaxon alarm would rouse him again.

Effortlessly, he guided the sleep-walking Angel from the bathroom to the bedroom and settled him in the bed. He returned to the bathroom to drain the tub and kick the dirty clothing and boots into the corner. Then he went back to the bedroom, locked the door behind him, stripped out of his pants and climbed in the opposite side of the bed, where he had been not sleeping for the past two and a half weeks.

Propping his head up with his hand, Spike studied the vampire beside him. He didn't want to admit it, but the kiss he'd shared with Angel had affected him more than any kiss had in a very long time. Normally, he'd be the one on the giving end of things, not the receiving end, and he had definitely been receiving shocks of pleasure and excitement caused by the dark-haired man next to him.

"You and me, Angel," Spike whispered. "Before this little trip is up, it's going to be you and me, and now I've got a bloody hard-on just thinking about it, you sleeping sod." He grumbled more to himself as he wrapped his arms around a pillow and laid his head on it, shifting uncomfortably under the soft sheets. With a final quiet curse, the blond vampire joined his sire in sleep.

*****

Angel half-woke to find himself curled up against another body, his head laying on a firm chest, his arm draped across a narrow waist, his leg entwined with another leg, his sex pressed up against a muscular thigh. It wasn't all that unpleasant of a way to wake up. In fact, he was feeling quite content to lay exactly how he was until he was forced to move. "Which won't be for a long time, if I have anything to say about it," he mumbled.

"About what?" Spike's quiet voice asked from above him.

"Moving. Me. Ain't gonna happen," Angel replied sleepily.

"That's what they all say," Spike told him, his fingers lightly dancing over his sire's spine. "But I usually change their minds." He chuckled softly when he felt a certain part of Angel twitch. "See?"

"Very cute," Angel muttered, still half-asleep. "Just for that, I'm going to have to kiss you without mercy."

"That sounds like fun." Spike ran his hand up along the back of Angel's neck, teasing the base of his dark hair. "Anytime you'd like to give it a go, I'm game."

Angel cracked his eyes open, smirked, then darted his tongue out over Spike's chest. The younger man hissed, his fingers stilling.

"Unfair," Spike said, then cursed softly when his sire did it again. "That's a good way to find yourself on your bloody stomach with your arse in the air, mate."

Angel raised his head and pinned Spike with his half-lidded gaze. "That sounds like fun," he repeated, his voice slightly rough from sleep. "Anytime you'd like to give it a go, I'm game."

The older vampire watched as Spike's nostrils flared and his eyes darkened to a navy blue with a tiny hint of gold reflecting in them. The atmosphere became charged and tense, surpassing that of the night in the cockpit weeks ago.

Without breaking eye-contact, Angel dropped his chin and slowly ran his tongue over Spike's pectoral. Spike inhaled sharply through clenched teeth, his hand closing over the hair at the back of his sire's neck. A smirk pulled up one side of Angel's mouth and he asked silkily, "Well?"

Then Angel was on his back and was being thoroughly kissed by an exceedingly aroused younger man. His hands immediately slid around Spike's back, shifting the blond atop of him. Spike's tongue plunged into his mouth, inciting a silent battle of desire, where both of them would be the victors.

Continued PG-13 Version 1