Ronin: Within You Part 10b
The dark vampire cowered against the stone wall. His eyes were open, wild,
and on the figure approaching him. But it
was impossible to tell if the vampire was looking at the figure.
At anything.
Slowly, as one would approach a wounded animal, one black tipped finger
reached out. Touched a pale, tear-stained
cheek. It was covered with some sort of smeared paint....Spike brought
a smudged finger to the tip of his
tongue...yes, paint, not blood. Striped across the nose and cheeks.
Reminiscent of War Paint actually.
Spike frowned, and reached forward again. This time the vampire made some
sort of movement to thwart the contact.
The smaller man recognized it as merely some sort of instinctual
flinch. Humans in deep comas do it in response to
pain. Amebas do it in response to light. Beyond that small shirk,
there had been nothing indicative of any sort of
conciousness.
He caressed the cheek, and beheld as something was awakened in the dark
eyes.
Relief swept over him. Prematurely.
::Angel! Angel!:: Spikes voice was loud, insistent, purposefully ignorant of the panic he could see...could smell.
**Oh...its an angel** The crouching vampire cocked his head to one
side, resembling more than anything, a puzzled
dog.
A black angel. With wings that came from under his arms, and floated down
about his legs. They lifted and swirled with
each gesture, and every time he reached out to touch the vampire,
it took away some of the hurting. That was nice.
The strange angel began to speak. The vampire watched as the angels lips
moved, and he experienced sound for the
first time in three hundred years. It hurt. As the noise continued,
the vampire became aware that this particular type of
sound used to mean something. But he had no idea what.
::Sire!::
Spike trembled. There was no response from Angel, beyond the blank stare of one who has been stripped of all......
<<essence>>
Spike felt himself growing cold with anger. This husk of a man before him
was *not* Angel. He had never seen this
person before, but it certainly was not his Sire. He had not come
all the way here..<<.wherever the hell here
was>>....to rescue...*this*.
Roughly he hauled the larger man to his feet. He held onto Angels limp
form by the front of his shirt, until he felt certain
he was not going to slide back down the wall and onto the floor again.
When he released his grip, Angel stood,
motionless. A giant doll.
And suddenly Spike realized that if he had to look one more second at that
vacant stare, he too was going to lose his
fucking mind.
He shoved his Sire backward, and watched as Angel made no attempt to break
his contact with the hard wall behind
him. His head slammed into it first, then his shoulders, a sickening
pair of dull thumps echoing down the long hallway.
Spike thought he saw a slight wince flutter over the otherwise expressionless
face, but it was gone too fast to be
certain.
Spike lifted his fist toward the face which was doing such a poor
impersonation of his Sire. ::Hey! Soulboy! Pay
attention here!::
A single blink. A window, open for a mere instant. **Maybe hes not an angel. Sad.**
::Take off your shirt.:: was out of Spikes mouth before he could think
about it. He had no idea if this creature would even
be capable of obeying such an order. But once it was spoken, Spike
knew if he was not able, he would follow through
on the command hiimself.
Spike hid his amazement beneath a calm veneer as Angel reached up to obey
the command. The white silk shirt
fluttered to the ground, and the dark eyes of the silent vampire
followed it; it looked like...
::Im up here!:: Rough hands on the chin, forcing a mutual gaze. ::You
keep your eyes up here:: No reply. But again, the
command was followed.
Spike slid out of his own coat and shirt, keeping his stare firmly locked
with Angels. He had ceased thinking, and was
now acting on undiluted instinct. ::Now the pants,:: he ordered
coldly, and watched as Angel did as he was bidden.
** Can move now.. not tied up now...feels good...** Something was
beginning to stir inside Angel. He had a sense that
he was returning to someplace.. and maybe he should let the not-an-angel
know that he was in here...but...he was
afraid.
Spike knelt to remove his boots and socks, as Angel stood over him, silent,
nude, still. He could have been the statue
at last. Except no sculptor would have suffered to carve a face so
completely void. Hurriedly, Spike stood, and shed
his jeans.
Spike had been schooled by the master of this sport, and hed played both
sides countless times. But he had never, not
once in over two centuries, been on this end of the gun with Angel.
He had some vague notion of why he was doing this. Pain and sex to shut
out the nauseating oblivion. It had always
worked for him, personally. He assumed it worked on Angel as well.
But it was the anger driving him, finally, and
he was determined to make that work to his advantage.
::Get on your knees::. Impressive. Hed gotten that out without choking.
All it took was some more frantic channeling of
that bubbling rage. Thoughts of all he had lost. In the end, it was
everything. Every single thing he had held....sacred.
Spike fancied himself a simple fellow. He loved one woman, he had one *
hobby*, he respected one man, and there
was only one individual he approached with any semblence of caution.
Dru had walked out on him, he had been
rooked of his ability to hunt, his Sire was a shattered remnant before
him, and the Slayer was dead. The faultline he
hadnt even known he was standing upon had crumbled without warning
beneath his feet, and all that was left was a
gaping hole of black earth.
He looked down, to see Angel kneeling there; the chocolate eyes gazing
up at him, compliant still. Must have made
quite the obedient submissive once upon a time. Though he doubted
Angel had worn that role since Darla. And even
then probably not for very long. Slayer notwithstanding. Spike had
no doubt his Sire would have crawled across
bottlecaps and broken glass to kiss her feet. The fury rose to a
fevered taste in his throat.
Spike grabbed the back of the dark head, pushed it closer to his already
over-aroused cock. ::Suck::. he managed,
closing his eyes as he was instantly obeyed, and the wet, lush mouth
of his Sire enfolded his cock in a solitary thrust.
Angel felt a precarious sense of safety return the second he tasted the
familiar flavor of Spike. He didnt know it was
Spike. But it tasted like sanctuary. Still, he had an appalling awareness
that just on the other side of this calm was a
shattering, ghastly place. It was best just to be very still, and
try not to go there.
::Harder::, Spike gritted between clenched teeth. He felt the mouth tighten
around his pulsing shaft, the tongue leap
over the swollen head, the sucking intensify with each violent lunge
of his hips. <<oh yeah, musta made one helluva
bottom>>. It was only seconds before the mounting physical sensations
completely eclipsed the surreal knowledge that
Spike was for the first time, dominating his Sire. Well...sort of.
To the extent one could dominate an inatimate object.
Damn!
Spike had never brooked half-assed. ::Enough:: he hissed, and immediately,
the dark head was still. ::Look up here,
dammit:: Calm, self assured voice. He surely had learned from
the master. Unblinking eyes instantly met his
own. Spike felt the wrath simmer; the blistering torrent swept through
every vein in his dead body. He knelt down on the
floor, nose to nose with the immobile Angel.
He felt the features of his human guise fall away, replaced by the ridges
and sharp edges of his demon. Still, no
reaction from the other man. He growled; a long, low, deep sound.
He grabbed the broad shoulders before him,
and shook, with enough force that the dark head lolled back and forth
like a newborns. When the words at last began
to fall from his lips, he scarcely recognized the harsh, guttaral
voice as his own.
::Im not going to lose you again, do you hear me, you mother fucker!? Its
not going to happen that way! Youre going to
wake up and pay attention here!
NOW!::
He slapped the calm face, hard enough to bruise the cheek. Another small
flinch. ::Goddamn poof, DO SOMETHING!::
Another slap, to the other cheek, the once handsome face marred now by
twin purple markings. ::FIGHT ME! DO
ANYTHING!::
Nothing.
Spike reared his head back, and howled his frustration. Then in one
glimmering moment he had tossed Angel back
onto the hard floor. He lifted the long legs, and pinned them back
over his shoulders. He looked once more into the
dim eyes, hoping to find something there that would stay his hand.. but
found only the same.
There was another moment, sharp and clear, when Spike realized he had ceased
to consider this plan grotesque. If
he ever really had....No, truthfully, it had been more the questionable....
etiquette of this situation which had caused his
passing hesitation. This was, according to Vampire Lore, trespass
on some holy ground. And, by rights, Angel could
have him beheaded for it. But Angel wasnt here, now was he? And when
was the last time Spike had given a flying
fuck about undead legacy?
His Sire, cruel and underindulgent as he had been, had taught him many
a valuable lesson about walking in darkness.
Respect your Elders, but trust noone. Kill first, ask questions last.
Guard your perimeter. Leather pants are a serious
fashion risk..Ok, the last was unintentional.
But, in the end, there was a particular lesson which the younger vampire
remembered all too well. If youre going to take
command, do it unequivocally. To show indecision is to show fear.
To show fear is the quickest way to become soup
mix.
Spike kept his eyes locked with Angels as he tore open his own wrist, and
coated his twitching cock with the spilt
blood. Then he thrust forward with no regard for mercy. In one swift
movement he was surrounded by the long coveted
flesh. Tight, and warm, and soft...and the shock of it was very nearly
his instant undoing.
He studied the face of the man beneath him, forcing himself to stay in
the present, to stay aware. The eyes had closed ,
and that would not do. Spike brought a frim hand to the mans windpipe,
and closed his fingers around it.
::I told you to keep your eyes open.:: the voice strained with lust barely held in check. The eyes once more flew open.
Still, Spike did not release his clutch on that neck. His blood covered
fingers left slippery, crimson handprints on the
alabaster skin, as he began to rock back and forth, using his grip
on the older man to steady himself as he set a pace.
Spikes fangs cut into his own lips, the blood falling in droplets onto
his Sires unmoving chest and stomach. He felt
surprisingly calm. It was impossible to comprehend, really,
that that horrible, desperate sounding voice was coming
from him....
::Come back, come back, come back:: all the while, the hand tightened on
Angels throat, and his cock slammed into
his body.
Bruising, punishing, violating, desecrating.
Speaking in tongues. Mindless string of words offered as a prayer to anyThing
that may listen to the prayers of
demons. ::Not gonna lose you again not gonna lose you too kill you
first you stupid sonofabitch how dare you do this to
me now sodding selfish souled bastard wake the fuck up when i rape you::
Other bloody hand running over the inert body, pinching, probing, frantic
for the smallest response. Finally, claiming the
mouth with a beastial snarl, cleaving open red lips and eagerly swallowing
the results.
((**A deeper caress. Fingertips lightly brushed over the gray flesh which
had the texture of sandpaper, returned it to
alabaster marble. Ran through the remaining strands of hair
and it became thick silk. The angel kept speaking, as the
same hands stroked atrophied muscles, and made them whole again.
Everywhere the touch fell, the body healed. This part was easy. The mind would take much longer. **))
Joined by the blood, Spike beheld this vision along with Angel, and
recognized it for what it was. Angels last moments
in Hell. He was being...regenerated... by some sort of creature
that was made up entirely of light. Spike had no desire
to acknowledge what that being was.
The smaller vampire pulled away from the brutal kiss, and offered his severed
wrist to Angels mouth. Relief flooded
through him as he watched the dark vampire suckle hungrily at the
life giving blood.
((**The angel pressed its entire palm flat against the vampires mouth, and closed its eyes.**))
As the angel spoke the words, the vampire felt a tightening in his neck;
his throat closed, then opened, and his first
utterance after three centuries of isolation was a dreadful, soul
shattering scream.
The angel dropped his hand. It was done.
End Within You Part 10b