Chapter Four
"Yeah." Spike whispered, waiting for Angel to put the pieces together.
"You don't have to hurt yourself, Spike."
"I don' know what else to do." He admitted, letting small sobs wrack his frame. He was trying hard not to let Angel see that he was about to cry. But Angel was no fool. He knew when Spike was falling apart even before Spike did. He knew he had been in that basement for weeks, waiting for the healing to quicken, or at least allow him to leave the place. But, even in vampires, the healing took time and it wasn't in Spike's nature to wait for much of anything.
"They'll heal."
"I know."
"I'm not going to fight you, you know that right?" Angel said, reaching cautiously out and taking Spike's wrist in his. It was turning a deep shade of purple and Spike winced when it was touched.
"I know." Spike sighed, watching Angel run his fingers over the bruise.
"Why did you do that?"
"Because I don' know what else to do." Spike sighed, wiping at his eyes slightly with his right hand.
"What do you mean?"
Spike let out a deep breath and turned his head toward Angel, his face blank. For a minute Angel thought he was going to lash out again, but then his lips curved into a smile.
"Hurt me, Angel. Hurt me so I know what you want me to do." He whispered. Angel stopped what he was doing with Spike's wrist and cocked his head. He remembered Spike saying that to him a few minutes before he broke six of Spike's fingers. He also remembered that Spike had laughed while he did it.
"I'm not going to hurt you." Angel said, pressing on the wrist and feeling the broken bone grind like sandpaper. Spike yelped and arched back against the wall at the sudden flash of pain. When it ebbed away, Spike smiled.
"You broke it."
"I know."
"I'm not going to hurt you." Angel repeated again, letting Spike's hand fall into his lap. Spike sighed and chuckled, his chest heaving with the sound. He nodded slowly, then looked Angel in the eyes again.
"Then how will I know what you want?" he asked, disappointment coloring his face. Angel shook his head and leaned forward. For a minute, Spike was confused. But when he felt Angel's soft lips covering his own, he didn't much care. Angel brought his left hand up to cup Spike's cheek gently. He felt the tear tracks and ran his thumb down them, blindly.
Angel wasn't going to fight Spike, but that wasn't the only way the message ever got across. Spike always had to be doing one of two things: fighting, or fucking.
