You Again, You Forever

Chapter Two

Here's the next part of Spike's and Damon's odyssey through the years and this is the chapter in which I made the most changes to what I'd posted before. I didn't much like what I had before. This is better (I hope you think so, too).

The first chapter was written in Damon's POV alone and I tried to change that in here, so you'll get to hear Spike's side as well. But most of the story will still be told from Damon's POV, but set in Spike's canon situations that we know from the show. So you may pretend that, after every encounter with Damon, Spike goes on living his life the way we saw it on Buffy or Angel.

For this chapter I took the location as well as some dialogue from Buffy Episode 7x17, "Lies my parents told me", one of my favourite Spike episodes. It belongs to Joss & Co.

And, as known from TVD episode 4x17 "Because the night…", it's confirmed that Damon was indeed in New York in 1977. I can't tell you how happy it made me to learn that. So of course I had to use some of what we saw in that episode in here as well.

New York City, 1977

Damon was having a pretty good life. A while ago he'd stopped pursuing his pathetic little brother wherever he went, letting up on the promise to make his life living hell, and had instead travelled up and down the east coast for the last few decades. He knew Stefan was in Mystic Falls right now, probably with Lexi the do-gooder, and he absolutely didn't care.

Instead he enjoyed his life of snatch-eat-kill and where better to find lots and lots of people no one would miss than in the city that never sleeps? So Damon had come to New York three weeks ago. And the Big Apple with all its buzzing allures had quickly drawn him in (not to mention the countless bars and night clubs where girls were easy and boys even more so). Damon couldn't remember a place where he'd been able to come by drinks, food and sex as easily and frequently as in New York.

The last three weeks had been a real treat; Damon had been constantly high on the sweet blood of college girls (and the occasional college boy), who offered themselves freely and were keeping him satisfied in more ways than one.

Most nights Damon hung out at "Billy's", a bar that not only offered good music and a fine choice of drinks, but also attracted just the right kind of people. People who'd readily fall for Damon's charms and so were making his life easy.

Damon had really come to like New York, and on the rare occasion that the city's crowded confinements bothered him, he liked to escape into the wide natural space the Central Park provided. It had quickly become his favourite outside place. And it even offered tasty meals as well.

Many times Damon had strolled around the seemingly naturally-growing green, very much like he was doing now, always on the lookout and not even in need of doing so, because drunk or lonely people were stumbling his way wherever he went. They were even falling from trees occasionally.

Not tonight, though.

Tonight large parts of the park were empty and abandoned due to the heavy thunderstorm that had been going on for hours. Trees, lawns and benches, everything around Damon was drenched in rain and so was he.

Water dripped from his leather jacket, his black jeans and boots were soaking wet and his dark hair was plastered to his head. It had begun to curl over his ears and at the nape of his neck again although Damon kept it rather short these days. But rain had always brought out its more wavy nature, something only he, and not Stefan, had inherited from their mother (along with the pair of piercing blue eyes).

In a weather such as tonight Damon would have usually long since left the park in favour of finding shelter, booze and blood somewhere else. Any bar would do, or even better yet, any human that would easily fall for his charms and take him back to their place. There he would be able to get rid of his wet clothes; it's not as if he needed them for the things he had in mind, right? And by the time he'd be done with fucking and feeding alike, his jeans should have dried again anyway.

So why wasn't he? Why was he still walking through the rain like some idiot too dumb or too stoned to go some place dry?

Damon didn't know what it was that had him walking along the gravelled paths of Central Park this night; there was just something, some foreboding…

Suddenly a sense of dark excitement gripped him from behind so strong and intense that Damon thought for a second he'd been slapped on the back. He spun around on his feet and stared through the pelting rain but there was nothing. Nothing but the raging storm going on all around him.

Damon let out an annoyed sigh. What the hell was wrong with him?

And then he heard it.

There was the sudden sound of a fight in the distance and it made him stop in mid-stride. Damon could make out fists flying and connecting with wet splashing noises on drenched bodies. He heard two sets of heavy boots shuffling on the ground in almost perfectly executed moves… and above all that there was something else.

There was a voice.

"Well, all right! Got the moves, don't you? I wanna ride you hard before I put you away, love."

The taunting words overrode the rain and the distance easily and pierced Damon's hearing as if they'd been shouted into his ear from a mere inch away.

It couldn't be, could it? He knew that voice! And the accent…

Damon turned in the direction the sounds were coming from and waited for the voice, that voice, to speak again. But only a woman answered in slightly panted breaths:

"You sure about that? You actually look a little wet and limp to me." A punch and a kick from her opponent were obviously parried with ease before she added angrily: "And I ain't your love!"

Panted growls erupted when both fighters charged each other at the same time again. Damon listened, then he started off through the rain towards where the noises were steadily coming from: one of the countless bridges scattered around the park.

Damon sprinted across the soaked lawn, ears constantly trained on the sounds of fighting, and neared the foot of the bridge in the matter of seconds. He jumped up in one swift move and, due to the mud that by now clotted his boots, came to a skittering halt on one end of the concrete bridge. Hidden from the fighters' view by some bushes Damon stared ahead at the scene, not sure if he should truly trust his eyes.

Could it really be true? Was this… Spike?

Damon watched the two figures throw punches back and forth while he tried to compare the fuzzy memory he had of Spike from nearly a hundred years ago with the vampire he was seeing now.

He closed his eyes and dug up the picture from the last corner of his mind. Shorter-than-average height, slim form covered by shaggy clothes, light-brown wavy hair, blue eyes and cheekbones to die for… that's what Damon remembered Spike to look like.

He couldn't for the life of it find one piece of that image in the vampire he saw now. And not because he had his vamp-face to the front now. Bleached-blond hair, short and sticking up in some kind of punk-style, washed-out torn blue jeans, a leather jacket in biker style with some kind of ripped black shirt underneath, biker-boots, a leather cord around his neck and some kind of needle piercing his left eyebrow. It accentuated the angry scar that cut the eyebrow and that Damon didn't remember being there before…

This guy now was a punk!

If it hadn't been for the taunting voice he'd heard earlier Damon would never have recognized Spike. Okay, no… that wasn't quite true. Though the vampire had changed very much in his looks, the wild ferocity in which he fought was still the same.

Whether it'd be against all odds and with his back to the wall or, like now, clearly superior to his opponent, all fists and fangs and taunting jibes… Spike fought with abandon and enjoyed every minute of it. He fought with all his heart.

Chasing the strange thoughts away Damon focused his attention back on the two figures ahead of him. He realized with a start that the fight had suddenly come to a rather bad end for the woman.

Spike was holding her in a death grip from behind, his entire body pressed to her back. She had her head tilted to the side, but not out of free will but rather out of pain from having her arm twisted in an unnatural angle.

Time seemed to have stopped and Damon expected Spike to lean in and sink his fangs into the woman's neck… when suddenly the sound of a nearby dustbin falling over distracted the vampire enough to turn his head (make that vampires, plural, for Damon looked over as well and noticed a small boy cowering behind a park bench).

The woman used that moment of distraction to twist out of Spike's grasp. She threw a row of well-placed kicks, flipped Spike over and put some distance between them. Then she suddenly pulled a stake from her long leather coat and threw it straight at the vampire's heart.

Damon, unconsciously sucking in his breath, was about to shout out some kind of warning when Spike's hands shot out and stopped the stake in mid-air, a few inches short from penetrating its goal.

"I spent a long time trying to track you down," Damon heard Spike drawl. "Don't really want the dance to end so soon, do you, Nikki?"

The woman, Nikki, merely glared back in silence. Spike threw the stake to the ground and it rolled over the wet concrete until it came to a stop at her feet.

"The music's just starting, isn't it?" Spike threw her a smirk and then jumped onto the low stone balustrade. One hand curled around a lamppost he let his eyes travel over her leather-clad body for the last time.

"By the way," he smirked. "Love the coat."

Then he let go of the lamppost and, with the languid grace of a panther, jumped off the bridge onto the muddy ground below.

Damon stepped out of the bushes and threw a quick look at the woman. She'd by now walked up to the bench and the small boy came slowly creeping out from under it. Damon briefly thought about finishing her off but then…

No, the fight Damon had just witnessed had made it clear that killing her would take a lot longer than the five seconds he usually needed. And by the time he'd be done with her (for Damon was sure that he could take her, just like Spike could and surely would some day), he'd have lost Spike's scent in the ongoing rain.

And that was something Damon wasn't willing to risk.

He was determined to follow Spike, to track him down and to finally, after ninety-seven years, confront him again.

Damon hadn't thought about Spike in a long time but, he realized now, he'd never completely forgotten this particular vampire. He couldn't say why exactly but then again, Damon had never been one for introspection. He didn't care why Spike seemed to intrigue him so much, he simply knew that he did. And that was enough for Damon.

He put a smirk onto his face and, not sparing another look at the woman and her child, jumped off the bridge to follow Spike. Despite the rain his scent hung fresh in the air and Damon was able to follow it easily through the night.

Oh yeah, confronting Spike after a hundred years would be fun.

Maybe he'd even kill him.

Something twisted inside Damon's chest at the thought and it took him by surprise. What was that? Guilt? Regret? Remorse?

Damon wasn't so sure and he didn't want to look too closely right now, but whatever it was… Damon would sure as hell find a way to deal with it.

But first, he'd find Spike.

Spike knew that he was being followed.

He'd noticed it quickly after his fight with the Slayer. But he wasn't too concerned about it right now because, hell, he could take on whatever or whoever it was now, couldn't he?

Bloody right he could, he was William the Bloody!

Still exhilarated and high from the first round he'd just danced with that Nikki Spike felt like nothing could get the best of him ever again.

She'd fought very differently to the Slayer Spike had bested in China all those years ago, he could have danced all night with this one. She had so much more spunk and fire. She didn't take shit from him but had taunted him back, teased him and had made the prospect of finally taking her so much sweeter.

And take her he bloody would!

'But not yet,' Spike grinned and adjusted the bulge his jeans. She'd made him so bloody hard that the mere thought of actually taking her, sinking into her with both cock and fangs alike, was nearly enough to send him over the edge.

He'd have to find some kind of outlet for all that pent-up energy, wouldn't he?

So, whoever it was that was trailing him now through the rainy night, he or she should better prepare themselves for being shagged six ways to Sunday right here on the muddy ground of Central Park.

Spike took his time walking along the footpath, ears on the barely-there footsteps from behind while his eyes stayed ahead, and he spotted a low bridge crossing his path in a round and tunnel-like opening.

Perfect.

He walked through but instead of following the path on the other side he quickly jumped up high and crouched on top of the bridge, hands on the edge and waited for his follower to come into view.

Well, that's at least how the plan had played out in his head before it was blown to pieces.

Because the second Spike crouched down on the stone bridge something came suddenly jumping onto his back from behind and the force of the hit had both of them tumble over the edge and into the mud below.

"Bloody hell," Spike growled and tried to get on his feet again.

A strong fist connected with his jaw and Spike actually saw stars for a second. He didn't have time to wonder about that though because he was thrown onto the ground and then a body like steel was on top of him, pressing his hips into the ground and holding his hands locked above his head.

"Hello Spike," a smirking voice drawled and Spike, shocked into stunned immobility by immediate recognition of that voice, shouted out once again.

"Bloody hell!"

"I see your vocabulary hasn't changed much over the years," Damon's smirk grew even wider.

"Damon?" Spike's voice was full of surprise and he stared at the vampire sitting on top of him open-mouthed.

It couldn't be, could it?

"Bloody hell," Spike let out for the third time. "It's you again!"

"Yes, it's me," Damon rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Are you done with gaping like a fish or should I give you another minute?"

"I'm bloody done," Spike struggled on the muddy ground but Damon didn't loose his grip on him. "Now get off of me before the leather gets all ruined. Come on, I'm all sodden!"

Damon wouldn't budge. "Why would I? I happen to like this position. Perfect for tearing your head off, don't you think?"

"Yeah, right. Tearing my head off" Spike scoffed. "Not bloody likely!"

And with that he managed to wriggle out of Damon's grasp. He flipped both of them over and pressed Damon to the ground instead.

Damon let out a growl and his vampire-face came to the front. Spike suited up moments later, fangs peeking out of the corners of his mouth due to the evil grin on his face.

"See, it's not so much fun with mud creeping up your pants now, is it?" Spike pushed his hips down for emphasis so that Damon's body would sink even deeper into the dirt. He realized all of a sudden that his cock, still hard from the exhilarating fight earlier, grazed along Damon's equally firm length in the process and raised an eyebrow.

'Well, well,' he thought surprised. 'What do we have here then? He's either really getting off on being covered in mud or…'

"Huh, seems like someone's rather happy to see me, huh?" Spike drawled and threw a pointed look at Damon's crotch.

Damon didn't comment but broke out of Spike's grip, closed one hand around the vampire's throat and squeezed hard. At the same time he bucked his hips and threw Spike over his head.

Both vampires were back on their feet in a heartbeat, facing each other and then, in a blur of movements, flew at each other again. They clawed at each other's clothes, feet kicking out repeatedly, but neither managed to get the advantage over the other for long. They were both soaked to the bone from the ongoing rain and the leather of their jackets was slick and slipped through their fists whenever one of them tried to get a stronger grasp.

Spraying mud everywhere they danced around in circles for what could have been minutes or hours, both too engaged in the fight to actually count the time.

But eventually Spike was beginning to get tired of this pointless dance. Neither of them was going to get the upper hand any time soon and besides, why were they fighting anyway? The first shock of seeing Damon again after nearly a hundred years had slowly made way for a feeling of… he didn't know if he'd dare to call it joy but it sure as hell was something pleasant.

Deep down inside Spike knew what it was he was feeling: he was simply glad that Damon had survived all those years.

He'd never forgotten this vampire, the first one of a slightly different but no less powerful kind he'd ever met, and he'd always hoped to run into him again one day. And as strange as it was for Spike to acknowledge this, now that they'd finally met again he'd much rather sit and talk to Damon again instead of going around in useless circles.

So eventually Spike began to merely deflected Damon's assaults without returning attacking blows in the hope that the other vampire would tire of the fight as well.

"Listen, mate," Spike panted and glared at Damon. "Would you lay off for a bit already? This isn't going anywhere, and… I don't see why you're so bloody pissed at me anyway!"

"Who's to say I'm pissed at you, huh?" Damon straightened up and stroked some wet curls out of his face. "Maybe I just don't like you, ever thought of that?"

They were both standing opposite each other under the bridge now and Spike took a step back to lean his body against the stone walls. He groped around his pockets and pulled a battered and wet pack of cigarettes complete with a silver lighter out of it.

He stuck one between his smirking lips and in lighting it, smirked back: "Actually, no. That thought never crossed my mind. You gave off a whole different vibe back when we first met, remember? With the curious chatting and all that."

"What," Damon scoffed with a raised eyebrow. "You mean our little 'hunting date' in Yorkshire to which you never showed? You think I care? Don't flatter yourself, I don't."

"Could have fooled me," Spike rolled his eyes and puffed a blow of smoke through drawn-up lips. Then he shrugged: "Whether you care or not, it wasn't my bleedin' fault that I never showed. I wanted to but…"

"Oh, but let me guess," Damon mocked and took a step forwards. "One of your precious Sires or whatever told you off for wanting to run with the cool kids instead of sticking to your own sandbox! And of course little Spike did what he was told by mummy and daddy and went back to play with his own toys!"

Spike, never having been the most patient vampire, had to close his eyes and count to ten in order to not raise to the bait and clock the other vampire for mocking him. He had no clue why but Spike knew he needed to explain himself.

He didn't own Damon any explanation, and still…

Spike took a deep breath and glared at Damon. "No, I didn't show up because I was trapped in a bloody mind shaft for two weeks straight and Angelus had me nearly starving to death!"

"Huh?" Okay, that somehow got Damon's attention.

"Yeah," Spike went on while pacing back and forth. "Angelus had us all holed up in a mind shaft because he was too chicken to take on the crowd."

He threw a quick look at Damon and noticed that his words had made Damon listen curiously. So he went on: "Remember the crowd that came after me that night? Well, it found us again the next day and instead of taking them on like I knew we could have, Angelus decided we should run and hide instead! Like some bloody scared rabbits! Of course I tried to get away but he beat me down the first three or four times. And when that didn't take for long he tied me up in a corner and let me starve while he got it on with both Darla and my Dru! He kept on shagging my dark princess into the bloody mattress, right before my very eyes, and… you know the worst part?" A pained expression ran over Spike's face when he looked up at Damon.

"She got off on it, too! My Dru, she liked the way Angelus fucked her over and over with me being forced to watch! God, how I hated the bastard back then!"

Damon didn't know what to say in return, his mind suddenly occupied with the painful memory of seeing Katherine with Stefan back when he'd still been human. He'd only ever caught them kissing, not more than a fleeting lip-lock really, and that alone had been enough to set him off back then. He'd been in a real frenzy and had taken Stefan to task by means of his fists.

It had been the first time in his life that Damon had ever wanted to truly hurt his little brother. The first time he'd fought him for real (and not in some playful brotherly banter) with the intent of actually killing him.

Damon could only imagine how it would have hurt if he'd ever been forced to watch Stefan and Katherine in bed together. He'd known about it, sure. But actually witnessing it? The pain would have been… too much. Unbearable.

So, yeah. He knew what Spike was talking about, he knew about the pain and humiliation that seeing the love of your life with another man evoked inside.

"So, anyway," Spike's voice pulled Damon out of his thoughts at last. "That's why I didn't show. But I wanted to. And, well, a few years later we came over here, to the States, and I remembered you saying you're from Virginia. So I started looking and I found that town of yours but you weren't there…"

Damon stared at Spike. "You went to Mystic Falls?"

Spike merely shrugged.

Damon didn't know what to say. He kept staring at the vampire's face, he took in his clear blue eyes, the high cheekbones and the slim form, and suddenly felt the slight stirring of arousal. That wasn't anything new, Damon was horny most times these days, but somehow being aroused by this vampire now had him all confused. So he did the only thing he could think of, he covered it behind his well-worn mask of smugness.

"Well, as fascinating as this little tale of yours is," Damon smirked and started walking away. "I have better things to do now. So…"

"Better things like stalking me again?"

"What?" Damon turned around and faced Spike.

"Hadn't thought I'd noticed you following me ever since I ended that dance with the Slayer, huh? Well, I did." Spike sauntered up to him. "What I don't know is why. Are you after bagging yourself a Slayer as well? Cause, let me tell you, this one's mine."

Damon frowned at Spike. "Slayer? You mean that girl you fought?"

"Of course I mean her," Spike stated forcefully. "She's mine for the taking. I've killed one before and I'm gonna bag me this one as well. So… hands off, all right?"

"Like I care what you say," Damon scoffed. "I kill her if I want to. Nothing you can do about that!"

"No?" Spike closed the distance between them in a heartbeat and gripped Damon's front to pull him even closer.

"Get off me," Damon threatened. He tried to push Spike away but the other vampire didn't budge but pulled Damon even closer. Their chests were touching and Damon could feel his dick starting to respond to the closeness.

"What if I don't?" Spike's voice wasn't more than a low purr.

"You're gonna regret it," Damon growled back.

Spike could feel Damon's arousal and, damn, he was hard again. Whether it was the talk about the Slayer that had done it or simply Damon… he didn't know and didn't care. He needed to do something about it.

Spike pushed forward and stared straight into Damon's face. "Oh, I doubt that," he drawled and started walking them both backwards. "I think I can deal with anything you dish out." Damon let himself be pulled along willingly, too stunned by the sudden change in Spike's manor.

The air around them seemed to suddenly be made of tension and when they reached the tunnel under the bridge again and Spike pushed him back against the stone wall Damon thought he'd suffocate on the thick air of underlying tension. He lifted his hands and placed them on Spike's hips.

"Anything?"

The other vampire had his hands still fisted in Damon's jacket but now his grip loosened and a suggestive smirk curled around his lips.

"Anything. Bring it on, mate. I take it."

And that was enough for Damon.

With a low growl he suddenly gripped the slender hips more tightly and turned both of them around on the spot to slam Spike against the wall. He leaned close, his entire body pressed up to the slightly smaller one, and for a split second simply stared into the blue eyes. Then his mouth crashed down onto Spike's waiting lips.

Both vampires let out a groan at the first contact.

Spike matched Damon's intensity piece by piece, he pulled the other vamp even closer and sparks flew off behind Damon's eyelids when they kissed again.

Neither of them needed to come up for air and so their mouths never parted. Not even when Damon suddenly pulled Spike away from the wall and threw them both to the ground. Not caring about the mud underneath he covered Spike from head to toe and pressed himself close.

Tongues chased and fought each other for dominance, hands tried to grope everywhere at once, and finally they managed to tear each other's clothes apart so that they could feel cold naked skin under their touch.

They were both nearly overwhelmed by the feeling of rippling muscles, they growled and panted into each other's mouths, kisses hot and brutal, movements rough and hard and becoming more vicious the closer they got to blissful release. Soon it was too good, too much.

Both Damon and Spike tried to keep their human features to the front for as long as they were able to, but eventually it all became too much.

Unable to suppress their natural urges any longer both vampires let their true faces appear. Yellow eyes met dark ones outlined by black veins and they tore their mouth apart at last. In unison their fangs ripped into each other's throats, drawing blood, and the sudden sweet taste sent them both tumbling over the edge.

And what an edge it was!

Damon yelled in shock and Spike didn't fare much better, he let out a surprised cry. Neither of them had ever experienced anything so powerful and stars exploded behind their closed eyelids.

They pulled their fangs out at the same time and Damon, with a groan at the sweet taste coating his lips and tongue, rolled over and collapsed to Spike's left.

He closed his eyes and tried to stop his body and mind from shutting down completely. He felt like every bone in his body had suddenly melted and at the same time lightning flashes of awareness soared through his head.

He'd never felt like this before.

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike panted out beside him and Damon turned his head. Very reluctantly he opened his eyes. "I second that. I can't believe... I never knew…"

Spike craned his neck to throw him a frown. "Knew what, mate?" His voice sounded drowsy and far away.

"That it could be like this," Damon admitted quietly. "Feeding from another vampire while... I've never…"

"You've never been with another vampire?" Spike couldn't believe it.

"Of course I've been with another vampire," Damon rolled his eyes. "I was with Katherine of course, but that doesn't really count. I was still human. And afterwards…" Damon thought for a moment and suddenly remembered something. Someone. "There was Sage back in 1912, but with her it was nothing like this. It was… less."

"Yeah," Spike nodded in understanding. "I get it. I've shared blood and sex quite a few times, mate, but this… this connection? Not what I remember."

Damon was quiet for a while. Spike was right, there had been something… different. Some kind of connection on a subconscious level, an awareness of sorts… even now, minutes later, Damon could still feel it in his head, in his bones, everywhere. He could feel Spike, like a presence in his mind. Like… some kind of mind-link. And frankly, it creeped him out a bit. But at the same time… he'd never felt so good in his life.

He turned and stared at Spike from the side. "What do you think it means?"

"I don't know," Spike gestured around with his arms, obviously at a loss and annoyed by it. "Maybe you did it wrong."

That earned him a punch on the arm. "Ow! Alright, maybe we did it wrong."

"I don't know. Didn't feel wrong to me."

A human wouldn't have heard Damon's comment, his voice barely above a whisper. But Spike heard and nodded. "Didn't feel wrong to me either." He let out a long satisfied sigh. "Felt bloody great."

"I know," Damon smirked and hoisted himself up on one elbow. His right hand began to trace a soft lazy pattern on Spike's chest. "I feel like my whole body is truly alive for the first time!"

Spike followed the movement with his eyes before he lifted his gaze up to Damon again. "Your whole body?" He pulled the other vampire closer and stroked a hand up his thigh. "Mind if I check for myself?"

Damon's answer was a low moan and so Spike wasted no time. He did check for himself again. And again.

Spike was roused from his impromptu nap (it hadn't been more than a quick nap, right?) by the smell of sizzling bacon.

Wait, bacon? Why would someone roast bacon in the middle of the night in Central Park? It wasn't anywhere near barbecue season yet, was it? And the smell wasn't exactly that of bacon, it was more…

"Oh bugger!" Spike's eyes flew open at once when a searing pain suddenly ran through his right hand and arm. He was burning up! The sun had risen and…

"Bloody buggering hell," the vampire exclaimed and scrambled to his feet. Okay, he wasn't exactly burning, there were no flames yet, but the smoke emanating from where the sun had hit his sensitive naked skin indicated that if he didn't find shelter immediately he'd end up nothing but a big pile of dust.

Searching around for his stray clothes Spike's frantic gaze suddenly fell onto the still sleeping naked form by his side.

"Damon," Spike shouted and briefly kicked the other vampire's ribs before he threw himself deeper into the safe shadows under the bridge. "Hey, get up, mate! Bloody hell, Damon! Get up!"

The tunnel was low enough that rays of sunlight wouldn't make their way into it any time soon but if Damon wouldn't wake up soon…

"Damon!"

When there was still no reaction coming from Damon, Spike didn't hesitate but picked up a pebble from the ground and threw it at the vampire's chest. Why wasn't he waking up for god's sake? He couldn't be dead, right? Well, of course he was dead but… he couldn't be more dead, could he? Spike threw another stone, a bigger one, and this time it landed right in Damon's face and bounced off his nose.

"Ouch!" Damon complained and shot up into a sitting position. He rubbed his hurt nose and glared around. Furious blue eyes fell onto Spike's wide opened ones. "What the hell did you do that for?"

Spike didn't reply. He couldn't, for he was far too busy staring at Damon. The vampire's upper body was fully exposed to the sun, his head and chest were bathed in it and yet…

No bursting into flames. Not even the least bit of smoke rose from where the sun hit Damon's body.

"Why are you not on fire?" Spike's voice was dangerously low.

"Huh?" Damon seemed to have trouble following Spike's train of thought but eventually he realized what the other vampire was getting at. "Oh, uh…"

"Uh?" Spike watched Damon stand up and grab his jeans from the ground. He quickly ripped his own pants over his legs and waited for Damon to say something. Anything. Explain himself somehow.

How could it be that a vampire was able to walk around in daylight?

Damon snatched his shirt from the ground and while shrugging into it he tried to come up with a plausible explanation.

"Oh, I guess you didn't know then that my kind isn't affected by sunlight like yours, huh?" Damon winced inwardly at his own words. Spike would never fall for that crap, would he?

"Is that right?" Spike cocked his head to the side and studied Damon's now dressed form from head to toe.

"Of course it is," Damon smirked and walked over to where Spike stood under the bridge. "I am the living proof of that, am I not? Okay, not so much living but you get my… hey!"

As soon as Damon had come over Spike had grabbed the vampire by the shirt, pulled him forward and smashed him into the stone wall of the tunnel.

"That's bollocks and you know it!" Spike growled, face only inches away from Damon's. "You're lying! I'm not some stupid fledgling that you can fool with this crap! So, Damon, tell me how you don't burn in the sun and tell me quick before I decide…"

Damon's head shot out and connected hard with Spike's forehead. The blond vampire reeled back and lost his grip on him in the process.

"Before you decide what, Spike? What are you gonna do to me, huh?" Damon scoffed and, to rub it in some more, stepped back into the broad daylight. He stretched his arms wide aside and threw a grin up into the clear blue morning sky.

"Hhmm, isn't it a wonderful day? All sunny and warm. Perfect for a morning stroll in the park. I think I'm gonna catch me a jogger for breakfast." He started walking backwards, eyes never leaving Spike's fuming face. "Wanna join me, Spike? Oh, sorry, I forgot! You can't! Too bad!"

Damon flashed him another smirk and then turned on his heels.

He hadn't made it more than three steps along the footpath when Spike suddenly jumped at his back with a growl.

The force of the impact drove both vampires forward and onto the ground. Thankfully enough for Spike they came to land in the shadows under a tree.

"Are you insane?" Damon rolled onto his back and stared at Spike. "Get out of the sun!"

The blond vampire had quickly crawled deeper under the tree and now, sitting with his back against the trunk, grinned back cockily.

"Careful there now, luv. Someone might think you care!"

Damon's eyes narrowed when he sat up as well. For a split second something crossed his face, an emotion Spike couldn't name and Damon wouldn't want to, ever. But then the mask of cool indifference was firmly back in place.

"I hate to break it to you but a single night of fucking doesn't make me your love, Spike."

Spike cocked his head to the side as if to reply something, but then he simply shrugged and put a cigarette between his lips. Then he held the pack out to Damon.

"Want one?"

Damon eyed first Spike and then the offered smokes with a look as if he was contemplating whether something might jump out of it. He took his time taking one. When Damon had placed it between his lips Spike held out the lighter and Damon instinctively leaned closer to reach the small flame.

Their shoulders brushed. Both vampires looked up at the same time, their blue eyes locked in an intense gaze.

Neither said anything though but inhaled the welcoming smoke and turned their heads back to look straight ahead. They kept on sitting there under the tree, neither of them willing to break the companionable silence, and watched the Central Park slowly come to life.

Jogging and walking humans passed, a dog or two came sniffing through the bushes, and slowly but steadily around them the air filled with the usual noises announcing a brand new day in New York City.

Damon and Spike sat there in the shadows, smoking and throwing glances at each other once in a while, and didn't say a word for what seemed like hours.

And we said nothing will make us change

In any way

Since yesterday we're just the same

Since yesterday nothing has changed

Since yesterday we're just the same

But I can feel there's this new kind of hunger inside

To be satisfied

I saw it there last night

They left the Central Park a few hours later when the sun had suddenly vanished behind thick clouds that would bring another thunderstorm soon. Neither of them said much, it seemed they were both preoccupied with thoughts about what the hell had happened last night. Spike led Damon through the streets of Manhattan and ducked into an entrance of an obviously abandoned building.

"This is where I've made myself at home. Well, for now." He shrugged casually. "Wanna come?"

"Sorry." Damon took an uncomfortable step back. "Got things to do, people to kill, you know?"

"Oh, sure," Spike drawled around his cigarette, "well then…"

Damon watched Spike and suddenly realized that he didn't want this to be the end. Not yet. He had no idea what had happened last night but... this couldn't be the end. So without another thought he moved and grabbed Spike's arm.

"How about tonight? We could, you know... hit a bar or something?"

Spike's eyes travelled from the hand on his arm to Damon's face. Then he grinned. "Sure. There's a bar right around the corner. Good drinks, even better waitresses. See you there? At ten?"

Damon confirmed with a nod and once again watched Spike turn around.

"You still owe me an explanation for why you don't burn in the sun, you know that, right?" Spike threw over his shoulder.

"I'll think of something convincing," Damon smirked back and started walking away. "See you tonight, Spike."

"Tonight, mate," Spike's grin turned even brighter when he watched Damon swagger around the corner. Then he went inside and nearly collapsed onto his bed, he was so beat.

Spike fell asleep with one thought on his mind. 'If sex with Damon is always this good, he's gonna bloody ruin me for anyone else. Even Dru. Well, guess we'll see about that tonight.'

But Spike didn't get a chance to find out because…

Damon never showed that night. Nor any other.

Damon never showed because that night, on his way to the bar Spike had mentioned, he made the mistake of stepping into "Billy's" for a quick snack and drink. And that's where Lexi found him. Damon wasn't able to shake her, not that night or any other for the next six months.

Lexi was determined to get him back onto the right path, to make him feel again.

Little did she know that he'd already begun to feel again, right before she'd shown up. And Damon didn't tell her. He couldn't, for what should he have said?

Damon didn't know. He didn't know what this thing with Spike had been, why the sex had felt so great, so different, so… meaningful.

Cause that's what it had been. Meaningful.

Damon couldn't tell Lexi any of this. But he also couldn't get rid of her. For six months she tortured him with booze and women, with fun and letting loose.

Until he couldn't take it anymore.

So he did what he did best: he played her, he manipulated her and he trapped her on a rooftop in broad daylight without a ring.

Then he left her and the city behind. He had no reason to stay for he'd learned a while ago that Spike had apparently left New York. His place had been empty every time Damon had managed to dodge Lexi for a while and go there.

Spike had left. So Damon packed up his meagre belongings and within 20 minutes had everything he needed stashed inside his car.

Thunder and lightning were his only companions on his way out of New York.

TBC

The lyrics were taken from Chris de Burgh's "Last Night", a very old song that once was a favourite of mine. I though it fit.