Website: http://www.livingindreams.co.uk/whisper/main1.htm
Fandom(s): BtVS - AtS
Genre (general, hetero or slash) Slash
Pairings/Characters: S/A
Rating: NC17
Warnings: vampire violence.
Notes: This is a gift for Mistress Eve.
Summary: The Boys were upset following their return from Rome and the awful Immortal business...
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"Sire?"
Angel heard the plaintive voice of his Childe, but did not respond. He was sunk too deeply in the depths of despair because the woman he thought was his soul mate; the only person who could send him to Hell ensouled and not incur his eternal hatred had given herself to a despised enemy.
"Sire? Are you awake?"
"Leave me alone."
"You're upset."
Angel closed his eyes, the tears spilling down his cheeks. Of course he was fucking upset, but he stayed silent.
"She's betrayed both of us."
Angel swiped at one damp cheek in irritation. Why couldn't his infuriating Childe just leave him alone?
He felt the bed dip. He covered his face with his hands, unwilling to allow his Childe to see just how upset he was. He felt a hand as cold as his own flesh stroke his shoulder.
"Please talk to me, Sire."
Angel drew in an unneeded breathe, intending to turn to his Childe and tell him to get the fuck out of his apartment and leave him the fuck alone. But something in Spike's voice stopped him.
"What do you want, Spike?" He asked instead.
The bed dipped again as if Spike were crawling across it, closer to his distraught Sire.
"I want to comfort you. Maybe by doing that I'll find comfort myself."
Angel's lip quivered. He had seldom heard his Childe talk that way, was surprised at the tenderness in the voice.
A gentle hand stroked down his back, soothing him, offering some comfort and solace to the devastated Vampire. But would there ever be enough comfort in the world to take away the pain of Buffy's betrayal?
He said nothing; did nothing.
"Sire, please?"
"Go away, Childe."
Angel listened intently for the sound of his Childe leaving the room. It didn't come. He was about to turn and snarl angrily at the younger Vampire.
Instead he was grabbed by the hair and dragged from the bed.
"You selfish fucking bastard! You think you're the only one suffering, you fucking poof? I loved Buffy too."
Angel looked up at his furious Childe. He did not attempt to wriggle away from Spike's white-knuckled hand twisted in his hair; he really didn't care if his Childe staked him. But Spike's use of the past tense caught his attention. "You loved her? I still love her."
Spike's face suffused with anger. He let go of his Sire's hair and drew back his hand, catching Angel a stunning blow across his face, sending him flying across the room. "Don't play that fucking game with me, you ponce!"
Angel lay face down on the floor of his bedroom for long moments. He felt blood trickle down his chin but he did not attempt to wipe it away. If his Childe needed to vent his feelings on his Sire Angel really didn't care. He was too tired, too distressed by the loss of his soul mate to another to care what happened to him now.
Breath he did not need was forced out of his dead lungs as one of Spike's Docs crashed into his ribs. "You think you got the monopoly on grief, you fucking over-the-top NANCY-BOY DRAMA QUEEN?" Four blows thudded into Angel's body as Spike vented his anger, his pale face distorted with rage.
Angel did nothing to protect himself nor did he react in any way. This merely served to inflame Spike further.
"Fight back, you fucking tosser. Fight back!" He stooped and grabbed his unresponsive Sire by the throat, dragging him up so that his slack and bloodied face was a centimetre from his. "What the fuck's wrong with you, you bastard?"
Angel did not reply. Spike changed his grip, grabbing his Sire's head and forcing him down as he brought his knee up swiftly. There was a satisfying crack as the older Vampire's nose broke. Spike let go of him as he sank to the floor, blood flowing freely from his nose.
The smell of his Sire's blood, family blood, wafted into Spike's flared nostrils, further inciting him. He lost complete control and launched a barrage of blows and kicks at the dark-haired Vampire until Angel lay in a bloodied and semi-conscious heap at his Childe's feet.
Spike stood staring down at the demon that had sired him, his hands clenched into ivory fists, his lips pulled back over wicked fangs. He had not been aware that his demon had emerged; it had probably happened as soon as he had smelled his Sire's blood.
With one final roar of anger, Spike kicked Angel in the head, looking down in irritation at the smear of blood the blow had left on his Doc Marten.
A groan from his dazed Sire finally brought him to his senses. It had been the first sound Angel had uttered throughout Spike's brutal onslaught.
"Fuck!" Spike fell to his knees beside his battered Sire. "Oh fuck, Sire, what have I done?"
The End