Title: Atonement, Part 4
Author: Neena (varscona_pal@yahoo.ca)
Overall rating: NC-17
Pairing: Giles/Angel
Summary: Angel returns to Sunnydale intent on saving Giles’ life and making amends, but discovers that his good intentions may bring about more suffering than either of them can handle.
Setting: Season four of BtVS, season one of AtS.
Warning: Slash and a little angst.
Disclaimer: Joss Whedon, Kuzui, Fox, ME, Sandollar, etc. own the rights to the characters in this story, but I’m happy to live in their shadow.
A/N: Thanks to The Queenly 1 for opening my eyes to new plot possibilities—it’s her fault this chapter took so long to finish! ;)

Giles propped himself up on his elbows and watched Angel rummage through the clothes strewn over the stone floor. Under better circumstances he might have found it amusing, but right now, all he could think about was what sorts of ‘things’ Angel had learned over the centuries. He was left with the same sinking sensation he’d had the year before, bound to a chair and waiting for the next implement of torture to appear in Angelus’ hands.

He was almost disappointed (and most definitely relieved) when Angel retrieved nothing more sinister than a tube of lubricant from his jacket pocket. No sadistically ribbed sex aides, no leather harnesses or whips, no handcuffs. Giles sank back against the mattress with a tiny breath of relief and waited.

This time, when Angel rejoined him on the bed, there were no clothes in the way. Giles found himself staring at Angel’s cock, wondering how much bigger it was going to get and already cringing inwardly at the kind of pain it would inflict.

“Close your eyes,” said Angel.

Although it went against his better judgement, Giles obeyed. After all, he wasn’t sure he really wanted to see what was happening anyway.

He felt strong hands on his chest, rubbing his taut muscles with experienced fingers. Giles took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to focus his mind solely on the physical aspects of the massage. So long as he didn’t dwell on the circumstances, he stood a chance of coming through this unscathed.

It wasn’t so bad, he thought, trying to convince himself. Even with the massaging fingers inching their way south, he was able to stay calm as long as his thoughts didn’t linger too long on Angel. Hands sliding down his stomach towards his hips—he could deal with it. Hands stroking along his outer thighs—doable. Hands disappearing for a moment, then reappearing slick with lubricant and intent on forging a path along his inner thigh—okay…having a bit of trouble with that one.

But he’d gone too far to back out now. Giles forced himself to relax and even spread his legs a little to make it easier for Angel. He braced himself as the invading fingers found their way to his back entrance, waiting for the inevitable breach. But Angel made no sudden moves. Instead, his fingers gently traced along his perineum, occasionally teasing his balls or skating briefly over his tightly puckered hole.

Strangely, it was easier to relax now that the physical sensations had become so…potent. It was easy to forget the ‘whys’ and the ‘with whoms’ and simply get lost in his body’s instictive reactions.

For the first time, he found himself reaching out for Angel, seeking a body to hold onto. His hand met with the cool, smooth skin of Angel’s shoulder, and he gripped onto it. There was a shifting of weight, and now Angel was once more on top of him, his hand still caressing him between his legs as he leaned in for a kiss.

Giles didn’t hesitate to kiss him back—it was what his body was telling him to do, and right now he needed to listen to it. He weaved his fingers through Angel’s short, black hair and with his other hand he began a shy exploration of Angel’s back. He was honestly surprised to find that he was getting hard. He was even more surprised to find he welcomed Angel’s hand on his cock, even pushed into it to better feel the friction.

This time, when Angel licked and nibbled his way down his chest and stomach there was a sizeable erection waiting for him at the other end. Giles hissed—pleasure, fear? It was too hard to tell—as Angel’s mouth engulfed him. Once again he clutched at the blankets, this time to keep himself from bucking hard into Angel’s mouth. Giles kept his eyes clamped shut, breathing more rapidly with every practiced movement of Angel’s tongue and lips.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he was aware that the reason Angel was so good at this was because he was a vampire and didn’t need to breathe—that he could swallow him, over and over without ever needing to come up for air. But the time for thinking had long passed. Now it was all nerve endings and primal urges. So when Angel’s finger finally slipped up inside his body, Giles was too overcome with other sensations to protest. It felt odd, but it didn’t hurt. And as the finger explored inside him, it nudged up against a spot that made his eyes fly open and sent a jolt of pure pleasure throughout his entire body.

He couldn’t help shouting out as Angel’s finger relentlessly hit that spot over and over again, sending him hurtling over the abyss with a cry that echoed down the halls of the temple for an impossibly long time. Panting for breath, Giles lay on the mattress, his arms flung loosely at his sides, and feeling utterly drained.

Angel, still kneeling beside him, lifted his dark eyes to meet Giles’. He thought he saw a smile on his face—a small one, but a smile nonetheless. Angel smiled back.

Giles grunted out a dry, exhausted chuckle. “I’m a big enough man to admit I was wrong.”

Angel’s smile curled up into a smirk. “I gotta say, Giles, size…not really your problem.”

Giles’ gaze drifted downward and came to rest on Angel’s prominent erection. No, he thought, size is precisely my problem. What little mirth he had in him withered at the sight of what was awaiting him.

“Don’t give up on me now, Giles,” said Angel. “I won’t hurt you, I promise.”

Giles swallowed hard. “I suppose you’ve given me reason enough not to doubt you.”

“That’s right,” said Angel. “I got you this far—the rest is easy. All you’ve gotta do is lay back and relax. I’ll take care of everything else.”

Giles turned his head away; “Just do it. I want this over with as quickly as possible.”

“Um…” said Angel worriedly. “Here’s the thing: you can either have it quick or you can have it painless, you can’t have both. It’s your call.”

“Quick,” said Giles immediately, but as his blood began pounding in his ears he changed his mind. “No. Painless.”

“Good choice,” said Angel with a sigh of relief.

Giles watched as Angel squeezed out an absurdly large mound of lubricant into the palm of his hand.

“Are you sure you’ve got enough?” asked Giles.

Angel would have assumed he was being sarcastic, except for the earnest look on his face. Giles was genuinely concerned.

“It’ll be more than enough, trust me,” said Angel. “It’s cold, though. I’d warm it up for you, but…well…no body heat.” Angel shrugged apologetically and climbed back onto the mattress.

Even though he’d been warned, the feel of the cold liquid shocked him, and Giles clenched his legs together involuntarily. It only took a minute for it to warm up to his body temperature, but by then he’d completely tensed up.

“Relax, Giles,” said Angel. “This won’t work unless you relax. Just let your legs fall open. That’s it.”

Angel knelt between Giles’ legs and spread the lube around with his fingers. “All right?” Angel asked.

Giles peered at him through half-shut lids and gave a slight nod. With permission thus granted, Angel slipped his finger into Giles’ ass. Or tried to, at least. Giles was so tightly clenched against him that he could barely squeeze in the tip of his finger.

“Relax,” said Angel.

“I’m trying,” said Giles with some frustration. “No flowers, no romantic music…if this is your idea of foreplay it’s no wonder I’m not in the mood.”

The gallows’ humour comment caught Angel off guard and he looked at the ex-watcher uncertainly. Giles mouth twisted into a half-smile and he started to giggle. Angel soon joined him. Sure, it was nervous laughter, but it broke the tension at last, and as their chuckles subsided, Giles finally looked more at ease. Angel felt the muscles of Giles’ legs relax around him and he took advantage of the moment.

“Oh, God,” said Giles, feeling the finger inside him, wriggling around, stretching him. “Oh, God,” he repeated.

“Am I hurting you?” asked Angel.

“No,” said Giles with a weak smile. “I’m fine.”

The second finger squeezed in, making Giles flinch and hiss. “Fine. I’m fine—stop worrying,” he said before Angel could ask.

Angel took his time, making sure Giles was ready before he removed his fingers and lubed up his cock. Giles had thought he wouldn’t be able to watch, but now that the time had come, he couldn’t pry his eyes off the sight of Angel’s hard cock, gleaming wet in the light of the lanterns. Angel took hold of his legs and lifted them up onto his shoulders, to make for easier access.

Giles held his breath as Angel got in position and slowly pushed the head of his cock into his ass. The tight ring of muscle gradually released its grip, letting Angel slide deeper inside him. There was a burning as his flesh stretched to accommodate Angel’s size, but the pain was bearable.

When Angel was fully sheathed inside him, he began to thrust—little thrusts at first, then larger thrusts once he was sure Giles could take it. Giles could do nothing now but watch and wait. The pain had receded, leaving only an odd discomfort and the dawning realisation that he would survive this night, but he would never really be whole again. He felt strangely empty, like somebody had hollowed him out emotionally and left behind nothing but a fragile husk.

The worst thing was that he felt he hadn’t fought it—not really. And the fact that he’d actually enjoyed it—even a little…he didn’t know how to deal with that. And here he was, reduced to serving as a sexual punching for the new and improved Angel.

Angel knew there was something wrong long before the first tear rolled down the side of Giles’ face and onto the bed. He couldn’t stop, though. He was so close…Giles was so hot and tight. And he knew it was wrong that it felt so good, but it had been so long since he’d been with a man that the sensations were almost overwhelming. Still…he couldn’t stand to see Giles suffering. He had to do something, say something.

“Giles? Giles, look at me,” said Angel softly.

Giles did look at him, but said nothing.

“I’m so sorry, Giles,” he said. “For this. For everything. You have no idea how sorry I am.”

Giles looked up at the vampire and in his liquid brown eyes he saw true remorse, and something else—he saw centuries’ worth of anguished guilt stamped onto his soul, and something in him connected with that. He didn’t know what exactly it was that made him do it—maybe it was because he had nothing else to lose—but for whatever reason, he opened his mouth and the words “I forgive you” came out. And for that brief moment he meant it.

It was by far the last thing Angel expected. He was overcome with a profound relief unlike anything he’d felt before. It was like a heavy burden had been lifted off his shoulders, and he felt lighter and happier than he had in a long time. Relief, coupled with a mind-blowing orgasm…

There was a horrible, panicky moment when Angel knew what was happening but was incapable of doing anything to stop it. In the brief moment before his soul left him, Angel once more found himself praying for Giles’ forgiveness.

Buffy was silent in the car, much to Xander’s annoyance. She’d barely said a word since he’d picked her up at her dorm room, but the looks that had passed between her and Willow spoke volumes. Once again he was being left out of the loop, and it sucked royally.

“Okay, what gives?” asked Xander finally. “What’s with the Masonic handshakes and the uber-secrecy? If this is about Giles, I have as much right as you and Willow to know what’s going on.”

“You know what, Xan? You’re right—you do. But I just can’t talk about it right now. Let’s just pick them up and go home, alright?”

“Them?” asked Xander.

“Huh?”

“Them—you said ‘them’. Let’s pick ‘them’ up.”

Buffy chewed the inside of her cheek—he was going to find out shortly anyways, and it was probably better to warn him ahead of time so he wouldn’t make a scene. “Fine,” she said. “Giles is with Angel. We needed his help with this one.”

Xander clamped his mouth shut to keep from saying what was on his mind. He kept his eyes focused on the road ahead so she wouldn’t see how angry he was. To trust Angel over him? It was like a slap in the face. He gripped the steering wheel tighter and was so caught up in his brooding that he almost missed the turnoff. He swung sharply onto the dirt side-road and ground to a stop, dust pluming out behind Giles’ car.

Now Buffy was the one faced with the silent treatment as they trudged through the desert. They had a good twenty or thirty minutes before sunset, but Xander was trekking it at top speed. Buffy kept up easily enough, but stayed a few steps behind on purpose, hoping he’d get over it and fall back so they could talk. He didn’t. They covered the fifteen-minute hike in less than eight minutes, but Buffy caught up with Xander and stopped him before he started down into the temple.

“What’s your problem?” asked Buffy loudly.

Xander’s chest was heaving from his exertion, but he refused to let it show, keeping his wheezing down to a minimum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I’m talking about the tarantula-sized bug up your butt,” she said.

“Okay—firstly, a tarantula isn’t a bug. And secondly, what makes you think that I have a problem with you bringing in your un-dead ex instead of asking me for help?”

“Your jealous?” Buffy asked in disbelief. “That’s what this is about? Well trust me, Xander, this is one time that sitting on the sidelines—not such a bad thing. And believe me, if you could have taken Angel’s place in there, I guarantee I would have volunteered you instead.”

“You mean it?” asked Xander.

“You bet. Now let’s get them out of there—it’s already starting to get dark.”

Xander seemed happy with his apology. Maybe it was because he knew he’d overreacted. Angel had that affect on him sometimes. He followed Buffy down into the dark temple and clicked on his flashlight. And he nearly jumped straight out of his skin when it lit up Angel’s face right in front of him.

“Gah! Do you have to sneak up on people like that?” Xander squeaked.

“Do you mind?” asked Angel, shielding his eyes from the Xander’s flashlight.

“Oh. Sorry.” Xander lowered the beam.

Buffy approached him: “Did everything…is Giles okay?” she asked. “Can he leave?”

“Oh yeah. He’s fine—can leave whenever he wants,” said Angel. “But he insists on packing up all his books.” He pulled Buffy to the side and whispered; “He said he wanted to talk to the two of you in private. I’ll wait for you in the car.”

Buffy nodded, trying to read Angel’s eyes in the dim light. He didn’t sound mad, but his eyes told a different story—they were cold and distant. She would have some serious apologizing to do once this was all over, she realized. Then she thought about what Giles was going to talk to them about and her heart sank.

“C’mon Xan—we’re running out of time,” said Buffy, and she led the way down the long, dark corridor. The dread of having to face Giles made it feel like she was walking to the electric chair. She just hoped her executioner would make it quick and painless.

She knew something was wrong even before they turned the corner to get to the sacrificial chamber. There was no noise coming from the room. There should have been noises—shuffling of feet, rustling of bags—but there was nothing. She ran the last few yards to the chamber and stopped dead in her tracks just beyond the entrance.

She was stunned, frozen in place with her hands clasped over her mouth as if trying to quell a scream. Xander came up behind her, careful not to cross the threshold. She looked at him with wide, glassy eyes, and he was about to ask her what was wrong, but one look inside the chamber was enough to answer his question. In spades.

Lying naked on top of the blood-spattered sheets was Giles. His leg bent at an impossible angle, clearly broken. His arms and chest were covered in cuts and bruises, and there was crimson blood caked around two distinctive puncture wounds in his neck.

But what really frightened Buffy was the blood on Giles’ lips.

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