!!DIALOGUE IS ENCLOSED IN COLONS NOT QUOTES (( :: )) because I have a
haunted keyboard.!!! <> and ** are thoughts and/or emphasis..the
story
makes which obvious. I hope.
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Feedback: Please feed my fameslut demon. It gives her a happy.
Ronin: Within You Part 9
Angel found himself on his knees, despite intrepid attempts to remain
upright. Completely overwhelmed by his feelings of guilt and grief, he
tried
to shake off the images of Light and childhood hope. They pressed ever
closer
to his shivering frame, which was now huddled against the corner wall.
He fought them. He was not deserving.
::Im not here:: Angel repeated to himself. To noone. His voice shook.
::Im
not here.::
::If I was alive, I wouldnt come here, and if Im dead, ::. he paused as
the
possibility
occured to him suddenly. ::If Im dead I certainly dont belong here.::
Another voice hissed from somewhere behind him..somewhere *within* him.
::Where DO you belong, Angelus?::
Angel hung his head in shame. He knew. He knew.
************************************************************************
Spike again walked over to the bed which held the body of his still and
bloodied Sire. It looked like a murder had been committed in this room.
Blood
was everywhere. It had soaked through the coverlets, into the mattress;
it
covered the walls, and the floor had a thin sheen of crimson, broken only
by
footprints in the muck.
On second thought, this could not have been a murder scene.. unless it
was
killing en masse. Humans dont contain this amount of blood. No human could
shed a quarter this amount and survive. Spike only hoped the same was not
true for his Sire.
Spike stared down at the dark vampire. The speed of the current had indeed
subsided somewhat, but the river of red continued to flow from both of
Angels
nostrils at a steady rate. His lips and chin were completely tattooed
scarlet, as was his naked chest and stomach. Both Angels hands were stained
as well, from before he had passed out, when he had grabbed at his own
face.
Spike was torn between shock and revulsion at the sight of Angel laying
there, bleeding and helpless- and lust and pleasure at the sight of Angel
laying there, bleeding and helpless. The only thing that prevented Spike
from
getting a raging hard on was the knowledge that Angel, according to Giles
anyway, may never awaken.
Spike didnt beleive that. He wouldnt believe that. This was Angleus for
chrissake. The man had returned from *Hell*.
************************************************************************
The vampire cowered against the stone wall . There were no guards posted
here. He had long ago forgotten that anything else existed.
Since his condemnation nearly five hundred years ago, he had never actually
attempted escape. Banished to Hell as a Master Vampire, with both body
and
soul intact, he was something of an enigma to the Powers. And although
his
arrival had originally been heralded with malicious glee, his tormentors
soon
found themselves more frustrated than overjoyed.
This one was did not bemoan his plight.. He refused to plead his case for
mercy. He never once cried out for anyOne to save him from his fate. Instead,
he accepted whatever brutality the Punishers unleashed upon his naked and
soon broken form, with a detatched stoicism that bordered on the psychotic.
He was apathetic when they beat him into unconciousness. He never begged
for
healing blood when he was starved for days on end. Scourges, whips, nails,
crossbows...all had a similar effect on his indifference. None.
It was certain his physical body was in agony. Noone, not even a powerful
demon with the thirst for bloodshed he had demonstrated in his long and
infamous unlife, could withstand the torment they heaped upon him without
mercy. But when they would savagely rape him, when the tendrils of the
Punishers would reach into his brain, to peel away the layers of
humanity,
and draw out the fear and suffering; after the initial recoling, the answer
offered up was always the same.
::I deserve this. I deserve this. Go ahead.::
Complicated, frustrating puzzle this one. His demon was strong, his soul
was
stronger. One protected the body, the other the Essence. It was almost
as if
he had been designed to withstand any of the torments Hell had yet invented.
It was quite by accident really that the key was at last discovered.
Holy Water seemed to create a level of discomfort that would keep the vampire
on edge enough to let down his guard somewhat. It made a lovely popping
noise
in his veins. So the Punishers used it often. But it was a random thought
the
vampire had while they were pouring the solution in his eyes that caught
the
attention of Hells minions. So amusing. <<Where do they get Holy
Water from
in Hell?!>>
They had taunted him with that. <<We have all manner of religious
implements
here...Crosses...Holy Water...who do you think condones our treatment of
you?>> To further their point, the army of small demons surrounding the
now
blinded vampire began to chant in Latin. The vampire recognized parts of
the
incantation. It was a rite of exorcism. They were mocking the religious
lore.
That is when it happened. Angel felt a tug begin at his feet; the
draw swept
up and up, until his insides felt as if they were the last tissue in a
box.
The feeling finally centered at the top of his head, and then, with one
terrible burning sensation in his scalp, was gone. He gasped for...breath.
He
felt the stink of the rancid air fill his lungs. Thats when the realization
dawned on him, and his Accusers.
Angelus had left him.
For the first time in centuries, Angel was alone in his body. He was human.
And he was in Hell.
************************************************************************
Spike sat next to Angels unmoving form on the blood soaked bed. He couldnt
stand
feeling idle and useless one second longer. If Giles was right about
this
blasted stone causing insanity, then he had to do something...anything...to
help Angel. He couldnt rely on the group of mortals who were still at least
an hour and a half away.
He climbed on top of Angels body, and only now realized they were both
still
completely nude. Torn once more between distaste and arousal, Spike ran
both
hands through the seemingly neverending flow of blood. He lifted a gory
finger to his lips, and licked. Sires blood. The energy shot through him
like
a thunderbolt. Essence of Angel. Essence.
Essence!
Without further thought, he bent over his Sire, and sank his fangs deep
into
Angels neck.
************************************************************************
Torturing the purely human body would have, by itself, been a source of
endless pleasure for the Punishers. Indeed, for a hundred years, it was.
But
it took much longer between sessions for the body to heal now. And
torturing
an unconcious victim was nearly as much sport. So, a good deal of the time,
the vampire was left alone in his cell.
Angel realized he had never *been* alone before. He had spent his mortal
life
purposefully surrounding himself with noise, flesh, souls. Perhaps so as
not
to have to look too deeply within himself, or perhaps for reasons not so
profound. When he was Turned, he had spent every waking moment in the circle
of other vampires. And when he was cursed with the return of his soul,
and
forced to hide from all living creatures, at least he had always had the
company of his demon. Dubious to be certain. But a presence.
Torture, pain, despair...all were preferable to lonliness. To - stillness.
If
given a choice
Angel would pick feeling horrible to feeling nothing at all. Except, he
wasnt
given that
choice.
Eavesdropping upon his most secret fears, Hell had finally found the means
to
destroy this powerful soul. Angel was stripped, taken into a room without
light or sound, suspended by majik chains which created no sensation, and
simply - left.
He hung there for three hundred years. No one beat him. No one raped him.
And
the
suffering was far worse than all of those. Eternal Suffering for the
entertainment of noone.
He couldnt even pray for death.....not merely for the obvious reason. But
simply because he doubted the existance of anyOne who would care to answer
him. It was not so very long before he doubted his own existence.
Hell had at last won.
************************************************************************
Does anyone really believe that Angels and their like are in fact benevolent
creatures? That the cherubim depicted on countless churches and pop culture
icons actually represent the true nature of the Beings supposedly closest
to
God? If that is indeed the case, then why must they always apologize first
when they swoop down on some poor unsuspecting mortal? Why must they always
preface their visits with an announcement that they come in peace? Its
because the tidings of comfort and joy are as rare as once in a million
millenia, and the smoting and the slaying of the first born much more common
an Angels task.
When the Angel appeared to the vampire, who in some sort of a cosmic joke
shared his holy name, he did not bother to apologize first. There was not
much left in this broken shell which would have actually understood his
words.
Nonetheless, he had a sacred Duty to perform. He had to tell this one that
now that the only living creature who had ever shed true tears for his
redemption had at last left him behind, he was now free to go back home.
With
the dropping of the Cladaugh Ring, his torment in Hell was finally over,
but
his suffering on Earth was to begin anew.
Tidings of comfort and joy.
End Part 9