Not A Good Start


by Saber ShadowKitten
Nightdreams 12





Spike rubbed his forehead with his thumb and first two fingers, trying to remove the pressure building in that area. A shot of vodka sat in front of him on the bar, with three more shot glasses upside down next to it. He had been planning to get slowly intoxicated, but may change his mind because of the tension headache that was getting stronger.

He had spent over two hundred years perfectly healthy except for the occasional hangover, but in the past few months, he'd had more than he could count. "It's all her bloody fault," he muttered, grabbing the shot and tossing it back. The fiery alcohol ate a path down to his gullet where it settled into a burning knot that chewed at his stomach.

His mini-holiday had only taken him as far as Los Angeles. Despite wanting nothing more than to keep driving until he fell off the edge of the world, he knew he had to stay close by in case he was needed back in Sunnydale. If he got paged, he could make Sunnydale in an hour, even though, technically, it was a two hour trip. But, hopefully, he wouldn't get paged and he could spend several days in a blurry, alcoholic daze and try to get rid of his stress-induced nightdreams.

"Spike?"

Spike looked up from his contemplation of his empty shot glass and saw Cordelia standing beside him. "Hello, pet," he greeted with little enthusiasm. "How's the detective life?"

"Fine," Cordelia replied. "What are you doing here? I thought your leash only extended as far as the edge of Sunnydale."

"Very amusing," he said. "I'm on holiday."

"Holiday? Did I miss Thanksgiving or something?"

Spike chuckled. "No, luv, I have several days off to do whatever I please."

"Buffy getting on your nerves, huh?" Cordelia surmised.

"You could say that," he said, tapping on the upside down shot glass with his finger nail.

"Well, if you're looking for a little mindless fun, I'm heading to a club that specializes in it," she told him.

"You know, I think I'll take you up on that offer," Spike said after a moment. He stood and followed her out of the bar with little trouble.

Ten minutes later, he found himself outside the dilapidated building that housed the detective agency his sire ran with help from Cordelia and a demon named Doyle. "I just need to get something," Cordelia said, unlocking the door, then leading the way inside.

"Great," Spike mumbled, trailing behind her despite he complete lack of desire to see Angel. His brain wasn't working at full-insult capability, which made it no fun when it came to facing the older vampire.

"Spike, what are you doing here?" Angel asked the moment Spike entered the office. The dark-haired vampire was sitting behind his desk, papers spread in front of him, with a small desk lamp illuminating them.

"What, no hello?" Spike said, flopping down into a chair and putting his feet up on the corner of Angel's desk.

"I'll be right back," Cordelia said, disappearing into another office.

Angel leaned back in his own chair, pushing it back slightly from the desk and turning it sideways. "I take it you're not here about anything important."

"Unless you call getting pissed important," Spike replied. He couldn't believe something that pathetic came out of his mouth. He sighed and rubbed his forehead again. "What about you? I hope that I'm interrupting something."

"Oh, you are," Angel said.

Then Spike heard a giggle.

Looking at his sire above the hand rubbing his forehead, he saw Angel's smirk. Dropping his hand, he stared at his sire, then slowly rose and looked over the desk.

He should have stayed at the bar. For there was Buffy, on her knees, doing things she wasn't suppose to be doing with Angel. "Slayer! What are you doing!?"

"Practicing," Buffy replied, then swiped her tongue around the head of Angel's cock.

"This can't be real," Spike said, unable to tear his eyes away from what the Slayer was doing. Perverted? Maybe. Psychotherapy? Definitely.

"Feels real to me," Angel hissed, arching his hips slightly.

Spike watched as Buffy slowly engulfed his sire's entire shaft in her mouth before drawing out equally as slow. She did it again and again, setting up an enticing rhythm that made his own cock hard and throbbing. He wondered if that's what she would look like giving him a job, with her eyes closed, her cheeks concaving when she sucked, her lips stretched around the firm steel of his prick.

He saw Angel grab the back of her hair, holding her steady as he began to pump into her mouth. His eyes widened slightly when he saw her nose brushing his sire's dark hair around his jutting erection. He groaned softly. She was deep-throating without any problems.

Then Angel climaxed and held her pressed tight against his abdomen. For a moment, Spike wondered how she could breathe, but that thought vanished when he saw the reflexive muscles in her throat. He repeated his soft groan. She was swallowing.

Angel released her and she drew her head back slowly, exposing his sire's cock inch by inch. Then she turned and looked up at Spike over the desk. "Next?"

Spike jerked at her question and suddenly found himself standing outside of the building where the detective agency was housed, Cordelia inserting a key in the door. "Are you going to come up?"

"No," Spike replied, shaking his head violently. "I'm going to stay right here."

Cordelia shrugged. "Ok. Be right back."

The second the door closed, Spike went over to the wall and slumped against it. With a shaky hand, he lit up a cigarette and inhaled deeply, trying to let the rush of nicotine calm him.

This was not a good start to his holiday.

1