Spike/Angel- ficathon- [September 28th]' NC-17 fic
28th September:
And the walls shall have eyes
And the doors shall have ears
But we'll dance in their dark
And they'll play with our lives
Like a slow burn
Leading us on and on and on
Like a slow burn
~Slow Burn by David Bowie
__________________________________________________
AFTER
---------------------------
Illyria had been wrong about Charles Gunn; he had lasted 12 -very memorable- minutes. And it was Wesley, in the end, who had saved the day.
One short e-mail had brought the combined forces of a red-headed witch and a hundred slayers down onto that alley a mere twenty minutes after the fighting had started.
The hellbeasts had been systematically disposed of, most of them torn to pieces. Angel, Spike, Illyria and Faith had enjoyed the fight. They had been brutal, and merciless and in perfect sync with each other. It had taken the team four hours to get through all their adversaries and the mounting carcasses to get to the portal that Hell had come out of. They had been preparing to enter when it all abruptly stopped.
They all stood there, drenched to the bone, panting and looking around, bracing themselves for another attack. When none came, Angel had stood back alone and looked up, vision blurred by the drizzle.
Spike backed up slowly and turned away from the others. He needed to collect his own thoughts and seeing Angel change from a savage confident and strategically brilliant warrior to an emotionally shattered man was much too hard.
Angel wasn’t aware he looked like he’d just been kicked. He wasn’t aware of anything other than the rain, and the most intense all-encompassing pain he had ever felt. It was supposed to be over for him. He was ready. He wanted to keep fighting till there was nothing left. He wanted to go out fighting.
Spike soon realized there was nothing more they could do and he wordlessly led those remaining around the front of the Hyperion hotel. Some of the girls were crying. Some were looking for friends. Some were laughing hysterically, the adrenaline coursing through their bodies coming out their mouths in an inappropriate way, the sound bouncing off the alley walls.
Willow had been saving the energy she had been recovering for one thing. She wordlessly incinerated the dead, their ashes mixing with the water gathering on the concrete and washing down the drain. As she passed out for the second time, she hoped her girls found peace and happiness where they were.
Faith had taken Gunn’s body from where it had been lovingly set down by Angel and closed his eyes.
She walked into the courtyard and proceeded to dig a hole with her bare hands to bury him under a tree in one of the gardens. She spoke to him as she dug.
Spike and Illyria took a seat outside on the front step of the front yard close to the open door. They could hear Faith’s quiet conversation.
“Well, I know it’s not super manly but it’s the nicest tree here. I just didn’t want you to be just one more street thug no one cares about in the morgue, okay? Not so long ago no one would have given a shit if I’d kicked it, but that ain’t the case now and it ain’t the case here with you. You were really cool, you know. I’m sure you rocked it hard-core out there. I wish I could have seen it; you would have loved seeing that dragon go down! It made the earth shake…”
“Night Charlie-boy,” Spike whispered as Faith covered him with earth.
Those slayers that were uninjured were quietly ushered to the third floor rooms. Those that were carrying a wounded girl had taken up in the lobby.
It took a long time before Angel joined up with the group outside.
His jaw was tight. His eyes were red. Angel, like Spike, was still clutching his weapon.
The older vampire looked worse then any of them had ever seen.
“Wesley,” he whispered, “we have to go back for him.”
“I put him in the ground under the library the Burkle persona used to work at. He liked the books and the Burkle.”
Angel nodded, a tear in his swollen eyes. They all thought he might stand there until the sun came up. They were very surprised when he spoke to Faith, who had finished burying their friend.
“You’ve got a dozen slayers bleeding everywhere in my lobby, Faith, I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but you need to get them out of here fast, for their own good.”
“Getting the urge to lick the red off the floor, are you big guy?”
“We’re all hurt, we’re all hungry and we’ve had a very, very hard day. Seeing this, the smell… This is torture,” Spike interjected, lighting a cigarette while watching Angel’s clenched jaw, and eyes flash gold.
Faith stood by Angel, putting her hand on his shoulder. “No prob man, they’re gone,” she said, “need a hug?” She asked, chuckling. Getting no response she stole a drag from Spike and went to check on a psychically drained Willow who had been set down on the old ottoman. She also placed a call for a few ambulances to meet the group of girls a few streets away.
------------------------------
Willow stirred and came to slowly, smiling sadly. She checked on some of the girls Faith was helping and they both met the main group outside. Spike and Illyria were still sitting side by side, but Angel was standing by the gate, looking away.
“So how was it for you, Blue?” Spike asked, breaking the silence.
“I feel cheated,” Illyria said. “All that bloodshed and still I feel grief. I have been infected by your human woes yet death has seen fit to elude me.”
“The power’s shifted. I can feel it,” Willow said.
“For how long?” Illyria snapped, blue eyes boring into the witch.
“I’m just saying you guys did good, is all,” she reassured them. “Unless the badies are just regrouping before really giving it to us. In that case-“
“Wesley called you?” Spike asked.
“I got a very specific message from a web e-mail address. He told me I couldn’t move until after midnight, so as to not arouse suspicion. I had to teleport everyone. I think us being here paid off though…”
“Thank you.” Angel said, not divulging the fact that he had not wanted her there. That he had wanted this to be his last fight. His swan song.
“If this had been last week I would still have been in Rio, so we got lucky.”
“Luck. There’s no such thing,” a cold female voice scoffed.
“Um, I know this isn’t the time, but what happened to Fred?”
“This is Illyria. Fred’s gone,” Spike answered.
“The Burkle’s memories and feelings reside inside this shell, but they call her dead.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry,” Willow told the boys. “About everyone. I saw Gunn. I’m assuming Wesley-“
“He really saved our behinds didn’t he?” Spike confirmed.
“You are very powerful. You feel almost, equal,” Illyria stood to face Willow.
“I’m not complaining or anything, but anyone want to tell me why Blondie here’s even alive?” Faith jumped in.
“To torment me,” Angel answered without humor.
“What he said,” Spike smirked. Still, looking at Angel was painful. He seemed to be barely holding on.
“Well, you should have told Buffy,” Willow chastised.
“Andrew knew,” Spike related.
“You told ANDREW?” Willow yelped.
“Found out. Told him not to tell,” Spike defended.
Faith heard the sirens and ushered the injured out of the hotel and onto the street.
“And you Angel; I think she would have wanted to be here with you; I mean, I know she’s in Rome but-“
“I think Buffy and her cookie dough are otherwise engaged,” the vampire responded, tight lipped. He lit the cigarette Spike tossed him and walked off.
“What?” Willow shouted, surprised.
“Her boyfriend. The Immortal.” Spike answered, sounding quite annoyed.
“She’s got a boyfriend?” Willow whispered.
“Yep. And he’s a swell bloke that’s a million times better than the both of us, with or without souls, it seems… You know, any topic would be better than this. Hey how’s Dana doing? Haven’t seen her since she cut off my arms…”
“Well, she’s got a long way to go, but Faith’s helping her. She’s really different now. We wouldn’t let her come, but she wanted to help.”
Faith came back into the courtyard with the remaining slayers and watched them as they walked into the hotel and up the stairs. She took Angel’s arm and led him back to the conversation.
“The girls are taken care of, as much as we can anyway. Can’t exactly provide all the therapy they need right now…” Faith let go of Angel’s arm because he squeezed hers so hard it hurt. She decided to ignore her faux pas and talk to him later that day. “So anyone want to have some post-rumble sex?”
Spike lifted his arm in acquiescence but Angel was by his side faster than he could blink, catching his arm mid swing. Spike, surprised, tuned to the older vampire. Angel didn’t acknowledge anything as he sat down and stared straight ahead, but he did not let go of the blonds’ hand.
“Hey, Cleveland want to know how many we’ve lost,” Willow asked, holding up her cell phone in Faith’s direction.
“22. Maybe 23. The one that’s always talking back, she’s not doing too well. She didn’t even tell me to fuck off once. We’ll know more in the morning. The girls are going to stick to the plan. It was a street fight between them, they’re not pressing charges and they’ll never do it again. We’ll get ‘em out of the hospital when they’re ready.”
Willow related the information to her home base.
“They’re mere children, shiny new flesh with uncontrolled power and foolish bravado.” Illyria stated.
“They volunteered; we left plenty of others,” Faith defended.
“I would have felt better had we not just finished giving the ‘slaying is no longer a death sentence speech,” Willow stated.
“True,” Faith confirmed.
Willow cocked an eyebrow at the two vampires. “I’m going to find a bed, you coming Faith?”
“That an invite?”
“You don’t even like girls!”
“Right now I would so do you.”
“You can sleep with me but you’re not sleeping with me. You’re going to see Robin tomorrow, don’t you have any self-control?”
“Fine, I gotta get this dirt off me so I’ll go masturbate in the shower.”
“Ew. Too much info Faith. My ears!”
“What’s this ‘masturbate?’” Illyria asked, following after them.
Spike strained to hear Willow’s stuttering explanation but all he could hear was his own hunger and pain and the pounding in his head. The open wounds on his body and his own blood’s scent weren’t enough to drown out the smell of the Slayers blood in the lobby and his facial muscles were twitching.
Spike looked around nervously. They had spent an hour like this, sitting, without talking, hands intertwined. Los Angeles was eerily quiet and they hadn’t heard a peep from their guests.
“I think you can let go now.”
“Can I?” Angel’s voice was raw.
Spike let go of his hand, and took his other. He pried Angel’s other hand away from his weapon and set it down between them.
Spike’s hand had managed to ground him and the loss of it caught him off guard. Angel looked up at Spike in game face. Hamilton’s blood had awakened a hunger in him like no other and he felt like jumping out of his skin. He hadn’t been prepared for after. He had only thought of during, and doing damage and hurting. He had only thought of the sound of bones popping, the smell of blood splattering, the feeling of tearing flesh. He was buzzing inside, wanting to fly off the handle. Loose it completely so he didn’t have to be there, in that moment.
Spike was kneeling in front of him, watching him intently. Angel growled when the blond tilt his head. He would have punched the younger man had Spike not taken hold of both his hands.
“I can’t.”
“And why not, Peaches, you gonna get all ‘who’s your daddy’ on me again? You need it. I can’t feel it. Don’t be daft, take what you want,” he paused. “I’m not offerin’ again.”
Angel said nothing. He recited all the mantras he could think of in his head, but he knew he was hanging on by a thread. Spike’s hands were once again like an anchor; annoyed by his feelings, he let them go. Thin lipped, he got up to take the long walk upstairs. He didn’t want to speak, he wanted to disappear, but the words just came out.
“You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“Sure I do. I’ve never had any delusions about what sharing blood can do. We’ve been dancing around us since I got here.”
“Have we?”
“You want to pretend like we never happened. You’re ashamed of me. But things are different now. They’ve been different.”
Angel whirled around to grab the younger vampire, but slipped in a puddle of blood, falling in an ungraceful heap on the floor. Spike kneeled to give the brunette a hand.
“You make me crazy, boy. If I don’t reign it in, I’m going to loose myself in you. I’m going to break into a million pieces and who knows who will come of that?”
Angel bent down and smeared Slayers blood on Spike’s face. Nose, cheeks, forehead. The brunette traced the boys’ lips with the dripping liquid, watching as he sucked a finger into his mouth, moaning at the taste.
“I remember that night in China. I was so proud of you; you were so pretty. But my head was swimming and you smelled like Dru. I wanted to be the one. I wanted to be the one you reveled with,” he whispered. “I couldn’t let myself… Thoughts can be dangerous things my boy,” he said putting his hand back into the amber liquid and using his fingers to smear blood all over the Spike’s hair. When some dripped onto the blond’s neck, Angel moved towards him on his knees and bent down to lick it, deciding instead to put his nose in it. He inhaled deeply, a Slayer’s smell mixed in with Spike’s. Angel’s hand was gripping Spikes hair tight, pulling his head back hard. Angel smelled his way the exposed ear, not daring to let his tongue snake out for a taste. “I would give anything to fuck you in this blood.”
Spike moaned loudly, wordlessly pleading with the older man as the blood on his lips taunted him.
Angel growled, released him harshly and backed away, yellow eyes wide.
Spike got up and looked at his blood soaked clothes, then back at the vampire in front of him.
“Bloody hell mate, you loosing it?” Spike snapped, despite his raging hard-on.
Angel started to run his hand through his own hair over and over again, walking around in a small circle. He started to look up periodically, throwing his hands or fists up too. Eventually, words found their way out of his mouth.
“You did this. You did,” he said, fist pointing upwards. “Always there, always listening. This was supposed to be the end of the world... the end of my world. And here I am again, one more time. Darla and Cordelia and Doyle and Wesley and Gunn. And Lorne. He didn’t come back, now how am I supposed to know what happened? You’re just mocking me; I’m still just a puppet to you. I can’t go on now. You can’t expect me to go on. You took my humanity away and I’m here with him, and he’s the one who makes me loose…”
Spike grabbed an arm and pulled him up the stairs. “Come on Angel. I ain’t that bad. Melodrama’s not your style. Let’s get you up to bed.”
“Spike. They’ll never leave us alone. We think we have free will, but they’re just playing with us, making us dance. They’re in the walls and the doors and the earth and sky.” Angel continued. “You know, I fell out of the sky once.”
“Really?”
“It was cold here…”
“I guess that's to be expected. Come on you big lug, we can dance later.” Spike said, taking Angel by the arms and to the elevator. “And you’re sounding like Dru. Now I agree the Powers that fuck us royally are pains, but they don’t control everything. Think about it. No one has got it easy but I doubt they’re putting their heads together, trying to make pain for each individual person. Oh, William Dinsmore you say? Have him be extra froufy and of course rejected, then turned, and then have his mother try to shag him… and then have his sire…”
Spike didn’t finish his sentence. He just walked into one of the unoccupied apartments and started running a bath. He undressed Angel carefully, slightly distressed that the brunette had stayed in game face.
“You’re gonna stay aren’t ya?” Angel asked.
“I’m not the one who usually leaves, now am I?”
“Stay.”
Spike, despite his appearance, just sat on the toilet.
After a long silence in which Angel looked wistfully through the door at the light coming from the room window, Spike felt panic.
“I won’t let you Angel.”
“Would it really matter, Spike?”
“Name’s Will,” he said softly, trying to get through to the man.
“Would it really matter if I just walked out the front door? If I just burned up? How was it for you?”
“It hurt a lot you nonce. Come on Angel! Wake up.”
“What about after that?”
“There was nothing. There was nothing till I was back here with you. You know that."
“I’m just feel so tired, empty.”
“That tends to happen when you avert a freaking apocalypse. Come on now, don’t make me be the voice of reason!”
“We didn’t really avert anything Sp… Will. You know that. Instead of an explosion it’ll be a slow burn.”
“So we bought us some time.”
“With Doyle’s life, and Cordelia’s life and Fred’s and Wesley’s and Gunn’s lives. And Darla’s gone and maybe Lorne. And Connor, if I’m always there to pull him back to me, he’ll never have the life he deserves.”
“Forgive me for not feeling bad that I’m still here! I’m sure you’d trade me in for any one of them but you don’t have that choice.”
With that, Spike walked out of the bathroom.
“Do you really think that?”
“Of course I do! Your pet humans were everything. And I accept that; I liked them too. Now tell me when you’re ready and I’ll help you with the towel.”
Angel was crying by the time Spike turned to face him again. It was soundless. It wasn’t sobs racking his body. It was a demon face and wide eyes with tears pouring and pouring out of them. It was a man staring at the cracks in the wall, breaking.
Spike stared for a long time. Then he walked slowly to the bath and soaped Angel. Washed him tenderly. The only thing the elder vampire did was let him. He didn’t talk, move or stop crying. He was lost in his thoughts, in a world that didn’t exist.
“Tell me what to do Angel. You need to tell me how to help,” Spike whispered. He didn’t need to know really. He’d always good at taking care of people. But this was not an ordinary day or night.
Spike eventually turned away and stripped. He took a washcloth and wordlessly rinsed his own body off, cuts and gashes and smeared Slayers blood included.
Spike couldn’t get Angel’s whispered words out of his head: “I would give anything to fuck you in this blood.” They repeated over and over again, making him wish they were said under different circumstances, sure, but mostly making him hard.
Before all this he’d been waiting for Angel to say something. Anything. About what he felt, what he remembered, if he was sorry. And although words were going to be needed at one point, they had seemed to come to a non-verbal understanding. They would ignore the past even if the past tainted every gesture, every screaming match, every conversation they had on that damn designer sofa on Angel’s floor. They would say things and pray the other didn’t elaborate too much. They’d look away; they’d clench their fists, their hands, their jaws. And when familiarity threatened to take over they’d be ashamed and walk off.
Really, what did he care? He had all the time in the world to get Angel to admit that they are family, that they matter and that they should stay together. He had all the time in the world to wait for the day Angel would mess with his hair, smile at him, call him Will. Tell the others that despite everything they were closer than two humans could ever be. Their timeline would stretch on, and they’d have ample time to work on whatever they needed to work on. They had all the time in the world to drop the act. Spike thought they would have the time because he knew they would. He knew in his still heart that they would survive, that they were here together and that he had to wait it out. He’d been waiting for Angel to make a move.
And then he’d stopped, because they were going to die. Because Angel was going to lose everyone he loved. Because it was selfish and totally inappropriate to ask him to focus on their relationship when there was so little time and so much to do. So he hadn’t. And he’d thought he’d been at peace about the whole thing. He’d done 5 poems about them at the poetry slam…
He had been right, he guessed, they had survived yet again, but Angel hadn’t wanted to. It was without a doubt obvious now. Spike paced around, searching for something, anything to say.
“Stop this now, living without the people you love is not your punishment. You got to know and love them and they’re human and that’s it. We’re still here ya poof. That’s not a bad thing.”
“I feel like I can’t breath.”
“That’s the dumbest thing I ever heard.”
“They’re all gone. They’re just gone.”
Spike helped Angel raise himself out of the tub. His many wounds were healing slowly but surely. The bathwater was pink.
“They’re not all gone. Faith is here and Willow and Buffy and Dawn. You’re not close now but they still care. And thanks a lot by the way; I know I’m chopped liver and all that, but you could pretend to give a shit that I’m still here, nonce.”
“Of course you’re still here. You’re always here. Reminding me. Making my life harder.”
“Oh come on, I don’t make it harder. I make it more interesting. More fun. I make you feel alive. I’m sure I make you feel like you’re superior to me. Aren’t you happy you have someone to compare yourself to?”
He got no answer.
“Don’t lie, I know you were happy to see me when you walked into that school.”
“You make me remember.”
“Is that it?”
“You make me remember things I can’t dwell on. God. The way we were, Will. Everything.”
“Go on.”
“I can’t. I don’t want to. It’s not the time. This is the time for them,” Angel said, reaching out with his hand to touch the ray of sunlight creeping through the blinds.
”Is it? Or are you just waiting for me to turn my back so you can join them?”
He never answered. He looked mesmerized by the sunlight and watching his skin singe. Spike got caught up, remembering the first day. Their first meeting. He reached out and took Angel’s hand. The blinds were quickly closed.
Angel shut his eyes. Spike walked around him to whisper in his ear. “Remember this, Angelus, you’re not going anywhere they are, you’re going to the place of eternal torment and fiery red pokers.”
“You are my eternal torment.”
“Stop exaggerating, Peaches. No…” He said, facing the older man. Forcing him to look. “You know what? That’s right. I’m your eternal torment, so stay here with me. At least you know me. It’s a lot better than being tortured forever by strangers.”
“I just want to stop.”
“I won’t let you. I’m not letting you leave me ever again. I’m not letting you hurt me like that EVER AGAIN, you got me?!” He said forcefully, his hand cupping the older vampire’s face brutally. “I’m not letting you die, or wither away and I’m not letting you get rid of me.”
Angel stared at the blond, shocked.
Eventually both the vampires had tears in their eyes.
“It hurts so much.”
“I know.”
“You still my Will?”
“Yes”
“You love me?”
“Don’t you toy with me Angel…”
Angel looked his boys naked body up and down for the first time that night. He sucked in an unnecessary breath at the beauty before him. When he looked back up into his eyes there was so much need Spike thought he heard his heart beat.
Angel whispered, getting closer. “Make me yours then. Make me feel. Take what you want.”
Spike moved forward and pressed his body against Angel’s. His hands went up to touch his face. The ridges smoothed out and his human mask returned. The blonds’ hands moved down his back and to his ass. He grabbed it with both hands and pressed their bodies together. Angel’s eyes closed.
“You feel me?”
“Yes.”
“Look at me.” Spike said, and when Angel opened his eyes Spike smoothed the man’s wet hair back. He leaned in slowly and opened his mouth for a wet, probing kiss.
Spike could barely hold his emotion in check as he led Angel to the bed. The older man lay down and Spike had to take a moment.
“This was in the top 5 things I thought would never happen.”
“Don’t tease me Spike, not now.”
"That's the first time you've called me Spike without the disdain."
"Spike."
Spike inclined his head in acquiescence, then bent down and kissed his way up to Angel’s erection. He looked at it for a moment and cocked an eyebrow at his old Sire. The raw pain he saw in the other man’s eyes was overwhelming.
“Come on; we’re still here,” he said, licking the top of his cock. His fangs descended from the taste. He shook it off and started again. He sucked the shaft into his mouth and swirled his tongue.
Angel’s hands gripped the musty sheets and he threw his head back.
As Spike used his mouth expertly, languidly, lovingly, up and down and up and down Angel whimpered. “Oh God, yes, yes, yes, keep it up, oh god oh please…”
Spike enjoyed his job very much. He hadn’t been this happy in a very long time. He enjoyed the feel, the smell and the sound so much he was praying it would never end. Up and down and up and down. Oh yeah.
Despite his enjoyment of it Angel didn’t come. And as the pressure built and his cock twitched Spike knew Angel needed the release. Holding back was probably torture right now, so Spike raised his head and kept up his ministrations with his hand.
“Come on Angel, let it go. Let it go right now. For me.” He said, before lowering his mouth back onto the cold shaft.
And Angel lost it. He bucked off the bed, crying hoarsely and coming and coming into Spike’s mouth. And he sobbed. He curled up and sobbed. Spike spooned up in front of him and let Angel pull him tight. They had always fit better that way.
Angel eventually calmed down enough to speak. “I need you so much. You don’t know. My boy. You can’t know. It kills me. Sometimes I think I can’t go on another second without you with me.”
Spike turned around to face Angel.
“Of course I know! With our history, our bloodline. My body aches for you every time you’re near. My soul wants to merge with yours. I want to crawl into you and never come out. I want to put my fangs in your neck…”
Spike leaned in to kiss him, and this time it was a kiss of want. Of tongues and fangs and blood igniting passion.
It was Angel who grabbed Spike’s shaft and placed it at his entrance, lifting one leg to give him space.
“Hurt me. Hurt me Will. I want to still feel you in the morning.”
Spike shouted ‘ah’ when he pushed in and the smell of family blood permeated the air. His face changed and he flipped to top Angel. He set a rough pace, kissing Angel’s cries away again and again.
When he pulled away, he almost came at the sight. He’d never been in the position to be inside his the man that was once his master and it was everything he hoped it would be. Every time he thrust he heard an inhuman grunt from them both. Every time he thrust he ground out ‘feel me’. Everytime they kissed he tasted the past and the future.
Angel was hanging on, meeting Spike's brutal rhythm. “Harder boy, I need it. Make me remember why I can’t live without you.”
Spike’s forceful thrusts became erratic. He could see the other vampire was close to loosing all control. He memorized Angel's face, took it all in, the pleasure of the act, the pain. "I like you like this. Just like this," he confessed.
He hesitated when Angel’s head rolled to the side, exposing his neck. The older man made his desires clear.
“Drink me. Take me in. Suck me dry. Do it. Rescue me.”
That’s when the orgasms started, when the fangs found their homes. When Angel completed the circle by latching onto his childe’s pale neck. When family and home and Spike and Angel became synonymous.
“Thank you.”
