In the Shadows

by Spikesgirl58

He watched from the shadows. It was safer there for him. His fingers grew warm from the butt and he dropped the cigarette to the ground, crushing it out with the toe of his scuffed Doc Martens. He smiled sarcastically. Pulling those off one of his victims was the best thing he'd ever done.

Spike had arrived in Jackson the other evening and he was bored. Angel had made a big deal out of this particular town. There had been hints of the beginning of a new Hellmouth and Angel was insistent that they take care of it and, for one reason or another, he'd sent Spike to check it out.

He spent most of last night scouring the town, looking for uglies, or even one of his own kind, but nothing. Spike had never been in a town which registered less on his radar. He'd hung around the joke of a cemetery. He checked out the morgue and found a big fat zero. Whatever was living in this town, it wasn't the undead, metaphorically speaking.

After dark, most of the activity in town seemed to be focused around a restaurant, so there he went. He'd called Angel to complain, only to be told Angel wasn't taking calls. That was typical. He'd sent Spike on a wild demon chase and was kicking back and living the good life.

Well, isn't that just peachy, Peaches, Spike thought as he lit another cigarette and took a deep puff. When he was a ghost, he'd missed the tactile. He missed touching, tasting, smelling the world around him. What the hell am I doing here?

There was a sudden movement to his left and Spike froze. In his long black leather coat, he was invisible from his neck down. His head, well, that was another matter.

"Napoleon, what are you doing?" The voice made Spike cock his head. That was a Brit talking and the last thing he'd expected to run into at the little one-horse town. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. The smells come from them were overwhelming, all manners of food... and something else—the unmistakable smell of sex.

"What does it feel like I'm doing?"

"I know what you are doing, but what are you doing? I have a whole restaurant of hungry diners in there."

Now Spike frowned. He'd walked about the restaurant earlier in the evening. The names of proprietors were Italian and Russian... so why was he hearing a decided British accent?

"Matt can handle it." The second voice was soft and lulling. It reminded Spike of Drusilla when she was angling to get her way. "We both need this."

"Napoleon..." The Brit's voice was interrupted and Spike adjusted his position. Two figures, nearly invisible to the human eye, stood wrapped in a tight embrace. Spike could see them just fine. One, he guessed Napoleon, was busy moving his hands over the body of the other man.

"God, Illya, I've missed you so much," Napoleon broke off kissing to murmur.

Illya, so this was the Russian, with a Brit accent. Cambridge? Spike filed that away with the other countless bits of this and that that crowded his brain. Live long enough, he smirked, Exist long enough and it's amazing what rubbish accumulates in your head.

"You were only gone three days."

"Seemed like so much longer." Napoleon's hand moved to card his fingers through Illya's hair. "I missed how you smell, how you taste..."

Spike knew what Napoleon meant, though. He frequently felt the same way. When he'd first rematerialize in Angel's office, all the old feelings for Angel had re-emerged. The fact that Spike was a ghost led to one frustrating attempt after another.

Suddenly corporeal and the first thing he'd done was beat the crap out of Angel. Later, after several drinks, he'd crawled back to his grand sire and they'd reconnected in a more satisfying manner. Spike smiled at the memory. Good times.

The men were doing a bout of heavy snogging and Spike became aware of tightness in his jeans. His dick had woken up and was eager for a better view. He had missed that when he was a ghost as well. Now he never passed up a chance to wank off. Spike let the horse out of the barn, as it were, and took full advantage of his voyeurism.

"I can't..." Illya protested again, but Spike could tell different. From here, he could smell the man's arousal. It rolled off him in waves of desire and pleasure. If humans only had an idea of how the rest of the world saw them.

"It's okay. We're alone. No one can see or hear us. Please, Illya?" Napoleon's voice was so convincing that Spike was ready to toss the human aside and take Illya's place. The way Napoleon moved, Spike could tell he was a man of experience and talent.

Napoleon shifted the position of one hand and Spike heard a strangled moan. It was too soft for normal hearing, but not his. "Oh, Napoleon..."

Spike's dick wept with excitement and Spike moved his hand absently on it. He wasn't ready by a long shot, but he could tell by their accelerated heartbeats that neither human was in quite the same spot. Naw, they racing down the short path.

In just a few sharp gasps, first one, then the other human climaxed and visibly sagged into each other's embrace. Murmured words of love were exchanged and Spike felt a stab of guilt. Damn soul popped up at the worst of times. Even spent, the men only had eyes for each other and they moved away, never knowing Spike was there.

Spike now had a bit of a quandary. He could grit his teeth and tuck himself away or go for a halfhearted hand job. Neither one really appealed. Then a familiar scent caught his attention and he smiled. Perhaps a hand job would be just the thing.

"Angelus, how long have you been standing there?"

"How long have you been standing there, Spike?" Angel stepped into view, his face quietly amused. "Not like you to get asleep at the wheel. Quite a show, huh?"

"Not half as long as I'd like, Peaches. That's the problem with humans. They got no staying power. They aren't built for the long run."

"Is that so?" There was a lilt to Angel's voice and Spike smiled slowly as he recognized it. "I don't suppose you have anything to report?"

"Guess it depends on what you're interested in. Ain't nothing happenin' in this place."

"Exactly." Angel moved behind him, pushing Spike's coat aside to slide his arms around the narrow waist. "I was here a few months ago. Two things struck me about this place."

"What's that?" Spike bit his tongue as his hand was joined by two more. He leaned back again Angel, letting the larger man support him.

"This town is one of the quietest places, demon-wise, I've ever encountered. It's as if the entire town has been cleansed. I figured after Lorne's fiasco at last year's Halloween party, we both deserved a bit of peace this time." He pushed Spike's hand away and began stroke Spike's penis, long, sure, slightly rough strokes, just the way he knew Spike enjoyed it.

"The other." Spike was working to control his voice. He tasted blood and realized he'd slit his tongue open. That meant his game face was on. Well, that was... neat. It spoke well for the outcome of this.

"I ate in that restaurant. The food is very good." Sharp teeth scraped the tender skin of Spike's neck and his obligingly tilted his head to permit Angel more access. "And those two reminded me of us."

"Humans? Go on, Angelus, pull the other one."

"They have old souls, just like us." He bit and Spike groaned slightly, arching back. "Or they will, eventually. They just don't know it yet. I have a room. Do you want me to finish you like this here? The question was softly whispered and after a moment, Spike let his head loll back and forth. After Drusilla, this didn't even count as foreplay.

"No," Spike whispered more to himself. He relaxed against Angel, reining himself back in. He'd had several lifetimes to learn to control himself. Spike knew Angel would make him work for his reward, or at least he hoped that would be the case. Spike preferred nothing the easy way.

He glanced back at the restaurant. Both men were gone, swallowed back up by a tide of humanity. Let them have it, he thought. He felt Angel's fingers digging into his hips as Angel indulged in a little foreplay himself. Spike didn't care. He knew his grandsire was good for it. He only hoped Angel was right about those two. If he was, Napoleon and Illya had several lifetimes of joy in front of them. Even if they didn't realize their souls were reconnecting again and again, it didn't really matter. At least they were lucky enough to find alive what he still searched for dead.

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