Spare Scenes

Author: rollinginangeldust (aka Angel Dust)

Pairing: Angel and Spike

Disclaimers: I don’t own any of the Buffy or Angel characters. Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc do. No copyright infringement is intended or inferred and no profit is being made (as if people would pay money for my work anyway!)

Notes for Spare Scenes 1 & 2: I wrote these a long time ago and forgot all about them. I was rummaging through some of my incomplete work (procrastinating really!) and decided to share. They’re both pretty much PWP’s, two small scenes originally written as ideas for someone else therefore neither have a real beginning or end and both follow an undisclosed plot.

So, who was the someone else? Well it was Crazy Evil Dru and for the story “Two Parts of the Same” (which is all her own work NOT mine!!!) which you should DEFINITELY check out if you haven’t already.

Notes for Spare Scene 3: This story has nothing to do with Two Parts of the same or any other authors. I originally wrote this piece intending to slot it into a much larger fic but could never quite ‘get into it’ or see where I could go with it. It works alright as a stand alone piece but to me it feels somewhat lacking and thin. Anyway thought I’d post it, after all someone might like it.

Warning: Spare Scene three deals with the after effects of rape.

Spoilers: None

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Angel:
 

My boy, slumped semi-naked in the corner of the basement in an unconscious heap. His back rests against the wall, legs out in front of him. Shackles around his ankles bind him to the wall on each side, with just enough give in the chains to sit or stand comfortably, but not enough to kick out at me. His arms hang uselessly, limply by his sides and each wrist is cuffed to the wall in a similar manor to his feet, enough for comfort and movement but not enough to attack….or defend. His head leans to one side, chin resting heavily against his chest. His face is free from any expression. He looks so peaceful, so innocent, so helpless and prone. I could do *anything* to him and he wouldn’t be able to stop me. Fuck. That thought alone is making me hard, the power that I could…no, do have over him right now. Sure he might struggle, but it would be in vain.

A slight flickering of his eyes signals that he’s starting to come around. I can see how groggy he is, doesn’t know what hit him. I watch silently as he slowly becomes aware of his predicament. In an instant he’s on his feet, in full game face, growling angrily, struggling violently against his restraints, and fuck he smells scared. Shit, I didn’t mean to frighten him. That’s not what this is about. Sure he’s been exciting my demon recently, making *those* urges stronger in me, but that’s not what I want now. I want what I’ve been missing and I want give him something that he’ll never forget.

Fully alert now, he is aware of where he is and knows that I’m here with him. His fear is gone and rapidly replaced with a volatile anger. He opens his mouth, probably to hurl abuse at me but I instantly silence him with a low growl. It’s a dirty Sire trick to pull I know, but it works. His demon can’t help but recognise, respond to and obey *that* growl. He remains quiet but I can feel him buzzing with questions and I can sense his uncertainty, he’s not entirely sure what’s happening...good, that’s the way I want it…for now.
 

Spike:
 

Fuck what the hell is going on? What happened? What did I do? Why am I chained? I watch Angel mesmerise slowly, silently out of the darkness, fully vamped, and a more important question invades my mind, why is Angel looking at me like I’m prey? I can’t suppress a shiver as feral, golden eyes, hungry eyes, lock with mine. He looks magnificent, a picture of pure sexual darkness…hang on, back up there…pure darkness as in evil? I know it’s Angel, it must be him, I can smell the soul, and yet he’s doing a bloody good impression of Angelus right now. He’s wearing Angelus face and… shit I’m in deep shit, that’s Angelus’ walk too. I repeat once more, what the fuck is going on here?

I’m lost in a mix between fear and fascination as he stalks towards me, moving reminiscent of a panther, almost prowling. Yeah I’ll admit I’m a little unnerved, but bugger me if my cock isn’t hard as nails. He just looks so fucking sexy, sensual…dangerous. He’s shirtless and I can literally see the power packed into his muscles as they ripple and flex whilst he continues to slink towards me. Speak to me, for fuck sake, say something! Right he’s not going to speak, I guess I’ll have to.

“Angel?” Ok that came out as unmanly squeak, and is answered only with a menacing smirk and an amused raised eyebrow.
 

Angel:
 

I can smell that he’s a little afraid, but that is hidden below a much stronger smell of arousal. That was my intention, scare him just enough for it to be erotic, thrill him to the edge of danger without pushing him over and get that adrenalin pumping.

I maintain eye contact with him, staring him down. The cheeky sod hasn’t even attempted to avert his eyes in submission, lucky for him I’m *not* Angelus.
 

Spike:
 

In less than a second he’s right up against me. With a gentle sweeping, nudging motion of his head against my cheek, he silently encourages me to tilt my head to one side. Unconsciously I obey and expose the fragile column of my neck, granting him access. I close my eyes in anticipation of the bite, I want it, but it doesn’t come. Instead I feel his tongue trace a lazy but firm pattern upwards from my clavicle, ending behind my ear. A soft whisper of “just playing,” lets me know it’s *my* Angel, before he sucks my ear lobe into his mouth.

“Knew it was you poof,” I lie and he releases my ear to give me a knowing smile.

“Bloody did,” I defend but my denial is cut short as he leans in to run his tongue along my bottom lip, before sucking it into his mouth and tugging at it gently with his now blunt teeth.

I follow his lead and retract my fangs and features too. I slip my tongue into his mouth and he moves fractionally to allow me to do so. I try to ravish his mouth, but a growl warns me to keep it slow. It’s been ages since we’ve kissed like this, I hadn’t even realised until now.

I take my time exploring Angel’s mouth, rolling against and massaging his tongue with my own as he does the same in response. Fuck I’ve missed this, and I guess from the happy, contented sighs he’s making he missed it too. I guess I hadn’t been thinking about what he might have wanted. I was just being selfish, doing things my way and taking what *I* needed.

Wait, what am I doing? I was just thinking about how I’m going to make this up to him when I was suddenly hit with the reality of the situation. I break the kiss softly but attack him with my words.

“You hit me!” I accuse and before I can continue he cuts in sharply, “Do you trust me?”

“Oh yeah sure,” I answer sarcastically, talking to the back of his head as turns slightly to retrieve something from the bench off to his side. “Of course I trust you. First you knock me out, then you strip me half naked and chain me up, then you pull that Sire mojo shit on me and play at being Angelus, next you’ll be wanting….” I stop as I feel a scratch against my inner arm and look down to see a hypodermic needle just breaking the surface of my skin, the syringe filled with some bright pink fluid. Shit. I look up at Angel in disbelief, “What the fuck?”

“Do you trust me?” he repeats sincerely, his face the picture of seriousness.
 

Angel:
 

He’s looking at me stunned, questioning, wondering what the hell I’m up to and also being careful not to struggle against me at all…just in case.

“Will?” I ask after a few moments silence.

“Yes,” he finally breathes after an even longer silence, closing his eyes and tilting his head backwards in a defeated way so that it rests against the wall once more.

I slowly inject the fluid into his body, watching the syringe empty its contents beneath his skin and into his veins. I remove the needle carefully and dispose of it into the box that I had waiting. Now I’m not one for drugs at all, but this is a bit different, it’s not really what it seems.

“Um, Angel, what was that?” he asks, although it’s a bit late to be asking that now.

“It won’t hurt you. It’ll just give your senses a little boost,” I reply honestly but skirting around the total truth.

“I’m a fucking vampire, my senses are plenty *boosted* already!”

Of course I know that, but that’s not everything that it does. It’s mainly a mild relaxant that will make him more tranquil and more receptive to his own feelings. I love him and I do love the sex we have, fuck do I love the sex we have! But it seems that all he wants is the violence, the blood, the rawness…and I can’t blame him, he’s a vampire, it’s in his nature and I made him that way, but I need more.

I know he also wants that soft, intimate closeness that we used to have, I can feel it when he snuggles up to me in bed, I can see it in the way he looks at me, but for some reason he’s holding back. He won’t give himself over to ‘that’ side, I don’t know if he’s conscious of even restraining himself. This potion will just help give him the freedom to unleash himself. I know what you’re thinking, I should have just asked, just *made* sex take that turn, but believe me I’ve tried, really! He seems unable to hear what I’m really asking for and sex, no matter how it starts, always ends up a mimicked massacre.

I don’t really want him to be anything other than what he is, who he is, but I know he’s not complete, he’s keeping this side of himself locked up inside.

I didn’t lie totally though, this potion won’t hurt him, can’t hurt him and isn’t addictive, it’ll just give his senses a little kick and allow him to *really feel* what I’m going to do to him, I want him to feel me truly loving him…and he just won’t let me do that anymore.

“Shhh,” I soothe, calming him, taking his face in my hands and stroking his cheeks with my thumbs. I know the drug is starting to take effect when he doesn’t retaliate against me. I move in for a kiss again, keeping it slow and deep. Spike doesn’t challenge my pace at all and gives himself over to the soft, wet, pleasure.
 

Spike:
 

Holy fuck what was in that mix? *Boost* my senses? It’s fucking kicked them into next week! I always loved the taste of Angel, but this is just unreal…and his scent, bloody hell, his scent! Then there’s the soft sounds he’s making, those of pure contentment again, so delicious.

My skin feels electric, under his touch as he gently explores my body, caressing my shoulders, neck and back in turn, gliding, skimming and smoothing his hands against my naked flesh. I try to grasp him, to pull him tighter and closer to me, but my restraints only go so far. I don’t want to break the kiss to ask him to free me so I make do with dragging my hands lightly up and down his chest in odd little patterns which makes him whimper.

Oh and that’s not all, the feeling of his tongue brushing and tangling against my own, exploring every inch of my mouth so delicately it’s….well it’s unbelievable, I don’t want this to ever stop. How the hell could I have been avoiding *this* for so long? What was I thinking? Was I thinking at all? What was I scared of?

“Noooo,” I whine as he gently breaks the kiss, followed by “ahhh,” as he trails his tongue across my chin, down my throat and into the hollow of my neck, shit that feels so good…and warm? Warmer than it should be and “Fuck,” he sucking at my neck, not breaking the skin, just drawing my blood towards the surface, making beautiful bruises no doubt. Yes bite me, bite me, bite me, I beg with my body, pushing up hard against his mouth but he refuses, releasing his suction and sweeping his tongue instead lower down my chest before capturing one of my nipples in his mouth and….

“Angel,” I gasp sharply as he flicks the tip of his tongue ever so lightly over and around the hard ultra sensitive bud. Shit I can’t even describe how that feels, “too much, too much…FUCKING NO, DON’T STOP!” I growl as the wanker *actually* goes to stop. Oh yeah that’s better, he swaps the flickering, teasing actions for long languid, flat tongue strokes instead.
 

Angel:
 

I guess that potion was a bit more powerful than I’d imagined. I’m barely doing anything to him and he’s moaning and shaking with need. If he makes *that* noise when I take a nipple into my mouth, what will he sound like with his cock down my throat or my fangs buried deep into his flesh? There’s only one way to find out but I don’t want to speed things up just yet…although surely there’s no harm in trying a little ‘tester’ nip.

I snake my tongue lower so that I can kneel and be more comfortable, then I do it. I ever so gently let my fangs pierce the skin just above his navel, and fuck, even I wasn’t expecting that! The noise my boy makes, as he arches his body upwards to meet my assault and force my fangs deeper, flooding my mouth with his blood.

I have *never* heard such a beautiful and yet frightening noise. A strangled mixture of pleasure and pain, a keening, desperate sound that turned into a long drawn out moan and finally something akin to sobbing as Spike struggled so hard against his restraints that he actually pulled the locating bolts clean out of the wall only to clamp his hands against my head to pull me impossibly closer as he tensed, shuddered and came screaming my name.

“I…I, needed…t-to touch… you…h-h-hold…you,” he gasped brokenly as an explanation for breaking his bindings before exhausted, he closed his eyes.
 

Spike:
 

“Wow that was amazing, his fangs felt like needles, painful, burning, white hot…and yet in a good way.”

“It’s ok, I’ve got you,” I hear Angel say as his powerful arms catch me, holding me up and preventing me from collapsing into a puddle on the floor.

“Love you,” I manage, well at least I think I manage before I pass out.
 

Angel:
 

Well that wasn’t quite what I had I mind, actually it wasn’t what I had in mind at all, but at least he enjoyed it, that’s all that matters to me. I think that potion might have been too much for him, he looks shattered and all from one orgasm.

I scoop him up into my arms, cradling him against my chest, and make to carry him up to bed. Fuck he smells so good, and shit *that* feels real good too, his body rubbing and bouncing against mine as I carry him up the stairs…and shit! I drank his blood. I’ve got that drug in my system too!
 

Spike:
 

“Wha…Wher…Angel?” Taking in my surroundings I realise that I’m clean and fully naked now, but no chains this time.

“Right here Will. You fainted, I brought you…”

“Fainted? I did *not* bloody well faint, I must have just…” I trail off, there’s something more important I need to know first, “Why?”
 

Angel:
 

I know what he’s asking but what do I say? He looks intently at me whilst he waits for the answer that I’m trying to form in my head, then for some reason grins to himself and saves me from having to answer. “Well you did what you wanted, now it’s my turn!” he says waggling *that* eyebrow at me.

He practically leaps off the bed and goes to rummage around in *our* box before coming back and jumping on me, straddling my hips. That’s it straight into it, no foreplay and…great, just fucking great, he’s got a knife, back to the blood and violence I guess.
 

Spike:
 

I know what he’s thinking…but I also know what he wants…needs. I dummy as if to slash at his chest, and I’m rewarded with a look of total surprise as instead I simply let the blade kiss and caress his skin, as I mark out faintly “I love you,” on his chest. His eyes shoot up to mine as he realises what I have carved into his skin.

“That was good, but it wasn’t real…this is real,” I say, letting the knife slip from my hand and onto floor as I lean forward and capture his mouth in a soft kiss.
 

Angel:
 

“Angel, don’t *ever* drug me again, not like that,” he tries to whisper the threat quickly as if to cover the fact that he’s even said it, before he sets to work worshiping my body, licking, lapping, nipping, stroking and massaging with a tenderness that I haven’t felt from him in a long time.
 

Spike:
 

Why haven’t I been doing this? Why haven’t I considered his needs? Just to hear the soft moans and gasps of pleasure escaping his lips should have been reason enough, that and the way he keeps breathing my name.
 
 

SPARE SCENE TWO
 

Spike can feel himself being slowly drawn back from the darkness. He lets his mind rouse fully but does not yet open his eyes, doesn’t want to alert his captor to the fact that he is conscious.

Spike realises at once that he’s cuffed to a chair. Thankfully he still has his jeans on, although his feet are bare and his shirt is hanging open to expose his pale chest. Scenting the air he knows that he’s in their basement, recognises the smell easily, although strangely he can also detect wax candles, chocolates, wine and roses…and Angel.

He doesn’t feel as if he’s in any danger but opens his eyes slowly and cautiously anyway and that’s when he discovers that he’s seated a table. The roses he could smell are arranged as a centre piece and a few candles also grace the table, many more of them positioned around the room illuminating it and casting a warm glow on Angel who is sitting across from him.

Angel smiles tenderly at his Childe. Spike just scowls back, annoyed that his Sire rendered him unconscious and damned if he’s going to play along with Angel’s plans and participate in this ‘humanised’ romantic meal, at least that’s what he suspects Angel intends. He’s a vampire for fuck sake! He doesn’t *do* romantic…not anymore.

“What the fuck is this?” Spike asks nodding around room to indicate the setup.

“Hey lover,” Angel smiles at him, unfazed.

“Don’t hey lover me, what the fuck do you think you’re playing at?” Spike snaps angrily, rattling and pulling at his bindings for effect.

“I thought we’d have a nice romantic…dinner.” Angel says slowly, seductively.

“Oh yeah *very* romantic Romeo. You’re supposed to invite me, not bloody well knock me out and…..” Spike counters heatedly.

“Would you have accepted?” Angel cuts Spike’s words short, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Stunned for a second Spike questions himself as to whether or not he’d have willingly accepted Angel’s invitation. Well, of course he’d have accepted. He knows this without a doubt, but he also knows that he’d have put his own spin on things. Romantic – blah! Recently he hasn’t been comfortable with accepting *that* side of himself, the side that Angel is hoping for tonight, all this sappiness stuff, this ‘human’ stuff.

Why would Angel go to the trouble of….? Spike thinks, and then it suddenly occurs to him that he’s been a bastard, so totally wrapped up in himself that he hasn’t considered Angel’s feeling or needs and now he feels guilty. He should have realised before. Of course Angel needs this, that’s who *he* is. Spike loves Angel and he’ll do this for him, be what Angel needs for tonight.

“Thought so,” Angel answers softly for Spike when he fails to answer, seeming to confirm something he already suspected.

On hearing a sad inflection in Angel’s voice, Spike catches his eye from across the table and gazes lovingly, if a little sadly, at the dark man before him.

Angel seems taken a back for a second, a look of hope flickering subtly across his features before he raises himself a little to reach hesitantly across the table. Boldly but softly, Angel cups Spike’s face and runs his thumbs over sharp cheekbones before moving in and gently kissing his boy. Spike opens his mouth, inviting Angel in, his only lead before allowing Angel to take control of the kiss, to mould it how he likes. Spike catches on, matching Angel’s slow, lazy rhythm instead of battling for dominance…and that’s when it hits him, how much he’s missed *this*.

When Angel finally pulls away Spike is breathless, caught up in lost emotions. He unconsciously licks his lips, relishing the taste of Angel as he thinks about how he longed to hold his Sire during that kiss and pull him close, not to ravage and tear at him for once but to stroke and soothe.

“Sorry,” Spike whispers before he’s even realised that the word has slipped out. Sorry for denying Angel what he needs.

Spike is silent for a moment before he asks, “So are you going to unchain me now?” Angel smiles and shakes head ‘no’ as he sits back down properly.

A quick sulky expression crosses Spike’s face and he asks “How am I gonna eat if you don’t un-cuff me?” Realising he sounds stroppy and instantly remembering that he’s promised himself that he would do *this* for Angel’s sake, he quickly reigns in his annoyance and tries to seem interested. Not having sensed any food other than the chocolates, Spike asks, “So um, what’s for dinner then?”

Angel throws him an unreadable look, then answers, “Dinner’s not ready yet.”

The pair sit in silence for a while, Spike waiting for dinner to be served, Angel lost in thought.

Since Spike’s return things had been different. Tender love making was no more with only hard, vicious and painful sex on offer. It was as if Spike wanted to prove his demon-ness and had got it into his head that anything short of blood and destruction showed weakness.

Angel knew this wasn’t true, Spike knew it too…only he’d forgotten. Angel planned to re-awaken those memories within him. To show him that romance doesn’t mean being soft and that showing your true feelings to someone you love doesn’t make you weak or pathetic. Angel wants to remind him that being a vampire isn’t about the viciousness and pain...it wasn’t that way between them before and Angel wished it wasn’t still so now.

Spike breaks into Angel’s thoughts with the suggestion of, “we could fuck while we wait,” nodding his head to indicate the mattress that Angel had decided to bring down to the basement.

Angel gazed levelly at his Childe, not yet answering him and instead playing absently with a rose stem. “No. There’s going to be no fucking tonight,” Angel finally states.

Spike opens his mouth to protest but Angel continues over him, blocking out his complaints, “I’m going to make love to you.”

“Poof,” Spike rolls his eyes. He knows he’s slipped on his promise of being how Angel wants, but he can’t help it. Why did he have to say that? Make love? That’s humany and sappy and…

“What?” Angel questions taking note of Spike’s, almost revolted, expression.

“This is wrong. The flowers, the candles, the chocolates and wine, well actually not those I could deal with those last two but I don’t bloody well make…..*gasp*”

Spike’s words catch, frozen in his throat as he watches as Angel purposely and deliberately presses his thumb against a rose thorn, puncturing it and letting a drop of blood surface.

“Humour me huh?” Angel shrugs, then “Oops,” with a mischievous grin as he slips his injured thumb absently into his mouth to heal it, as if he’s only just noticed his wound.

Angel successfully ignores the need so clearly evident on his Childe’s wide-eyed face and his heavy scent of arousal in the air, as he continues with his dinner plans. Placing the rose stem lengthways between his teeth (so cliché thinks the sarcastic side of Spike) Angel pours some wine into each of their glasses.

Angel is well aware that Spike’s gaze it fixed upon his mouth and so makes a show of pressing and rolling his lips against the thorny stem, making them bleed a little. Again he’s rewarded with a gasp and an additional soft moan.

Smiling up seductively at Spike and seeing him licking his own lips as if he could somehow taste the elixir staining his Sire’s, Angel breathed his question, “thirsty?” as he abandoned the wine bottle and stalked around the table to straddle Spike’s legs and sit in his lap.

A whimper is his only answer.

Angel caught Spike, holding him back and restraining him with his large hands as his Childe made a dive for his lips, desperate to taste the blood.

At Spike’s confused and almost hurt look, Angel shook his head ‘no’ before moving in himself to steal a kiss.

Again Spike tried to dive at him, ravenous, and again found himself restrained.

“No,” Angel barely whispered before moving in once more.

Spike hesitantly accepted the kiss, not sure if he was going to be denied again, but when Angel moaned at the softness of their joining Spike realised that Angel was trying to show him how he wanted to be kissed; slowly, gently, languidly and exploratory. Spike closed his eyes and let the kiss take him over as he melted into a feeling almost foreign to him now…no, not foreign, repressed.

Spike felt Angel smile into the kiss mere moments before he felt a sharp, delicious pain spread out across his chest causing him to break the kiss and arch back with a pleasured hiss.

With lust lidded eyes Spike looked down at his chest and found it freshly torn and bleeding, his Sire having broken his skin with yet more thorns. Spike couldn’t quite keep the confusion out of his expression. He didn’t understand. Angel wanted romantic. That meant soft and gentle right? And yet Angel had purposely wounded his Childe...and himself.

Looking to his Sire for an explanation Spike received a seductive smile, before Angel let out a pleasured moan then bent his head to lap at and trace at the torn flesh with his tongue, gently worrying the abused skin and preventing if from healing, all to the accompaniment of Spike’s mewls and whimpers.

Spike felt the loss of his Sire’s mouth acutely as Angel raised his head and sat upright once again before reaching around behind himself and picking up one of the glasses of wine.

Spike kept his gaze fixed on his Sire as Angel brought the glass to his own lips and took some of the ruby liquid into his mouth, holding it there before leaning forward to feed it to his Childe by the means of a kiss.

Pulling back slowly again, Angel took another mouthful of the wine, but instead of feeding it to his Childe, allowed it to spill from his mouth and cover Spike’s raw and bloodied chest. Spike howled and arched in pleasured agony, the sting and burn incredible.

“Roses and wine not so poofy now huh?” Angel leant forward to whisper in his ear. “Now for the candles and chocolates,” Angel grinned.
 

xxXxx
 

Lying naked on the mattress, a willing participant now, Spike no longer needed to be held captive in chains. He’d promised to keep his hands still for Angel all the same though. Only now it wasn’t so easy, not with his naked Sire intermittently dripping hot candle wax over his body before healing and soothing the hurt and pain with his tongue.

It was hard not to squirm and grab at things when Angel penetrated Spike with a candle and even more so when his Sire decided to invade his Childe’s urethra with a taper, fucking his piss hole slowly, smoothly, keeping the raw burn just on the right side of pleasurable.

Candles and tapers weren’t the only exquisite ‘tortures’ in play now, Angel alternatively made use of his nails and teeth to inflict maximum damage and draw blood before cool fingers and mouth would be used to heal and soothe.
 

xxXxx
 

Spike felt as if he was floating on a sea of bliss, not quite ‘with it’ anymore. His body used and abused…but with love and care.

“Will?” Angel called softly to Spike trying to get those lust glazed and dazed eyes to focus on him.

“Hmmmm?” Spike managed to answer and fixed his eyes on his Sire. He was rewarded as Angel fed him a chocolate with his fingers. Spike watched transfixed as Angel took another from the box for himself, held it in his mouth for a second and quirking his eyebrow mischievously at his Childe before disappearing out of sight. Not completely aware of what was going on around him, Spike almost choked on his own chocolate as he felt Angel’s slick, chocolate coated tongue enter him.

“Please Sire,” Spike finally begged when he could no longer take Angel’s sensual chocolate torture; chocolate after chocolate near melted in Angel’s mouth and pushed inside his body or slicked over his cock and dribbled into his abused, gaping, urethra.

Spike was surprised this time when, instead of taking the chocolate into his mouth, Angel reached around behind himself and moaned low and deep. It was then that Spike realised what Angel was doing; inserting the soft warm chocolate into his own passage.

Spike’s eyes rolled back in his head as Angel straddled his hips and lowered himself on to his lover’s cock, the chocolate easing his way.

Angel waited, seated impaled on Spike, as he waited for his Childe to open his eyes and look at him…only then did he move. Slow and easy, holding his boy’s gaze all the while and trying to make his love felt. Angel took Spike’s hands in his own, entwining their fingers, as he rocked his hips up and down, back and forth, anything to make Spike keep moaning in *that* way.

“I love you William,” Angel hushed, not once expecting to hear any such words fall from Spike’s lips. He knew his Childe loved him, his actions showed that clear enough, but it wasn’t something that Spike gave voice to anymore.

“I love you Will,” again as he rocked harder, feeling himself drawing closer and closer to the point of no return, his Childe bucking up into him trying to reach his own goal too.

“I love you Will,” as he felt Spike’s cock twitch and erupt inside him.

“I, love ….oh fucking hell,” as he came, spilling over his Childe’s body before collapsing boneless against him.

As Spike lay comfortably crushed beneath his Sire’s huge body he realised that Angel had succeeded in his quest. Angel did indeed make love to him as he’d said he would…and in a way that Spike could understand.

“I, I love you too Sire.”
 
 

SPARE SCENE THREE

Even from the deepest depths of his dreams Angel had felt the familiar presence enter his bedroom. He didn’t need to open his eyes to see who had disturbed his sleep as he rolled onto his back with a world weary sigh, “I’m tired Spike. What do you want?”

Silence was the only answer he received.

“Spike?” Angel asked again, reaching over to turn on the bedside light. Even with his night vision, the corners of his room were a dark abyss.

“Don’t.” One word, so much softer than a whisper.

“Huh?” Angel asked intelligently, his hand stilling in his actions.

“The light. Please don’t.” It was his Childe’s voice, he knew for sure, although barely recognisable; as raw and scratchy as thistles, yet dull and void of any emotion.

Angel starred into the corner where the voice had emanated from, his eyes trying to penetrate the darkness and catch a glimpse of the vampire hidden there.

“Spike? Are you…are you alright?” Angel asked cautiously, not sure if anything was actually wrong with his boy or if this was all part of some deranged plan.

Again Angel got no answer.

“Spike is there som…” Angel’s words caught in his throat as a police helicopter flew by outside, the rays from it’s searchlight stealing their way through barely there gaps at the edges of the heavy curtains and throwing the room into light for a split second as it swung by.

In that instant Angel saw that whatever Spike was here for, it was no joke.

Shaking hands hadn’t been fast enough to cover and conceal the bruised and battered face of his youngest Childe that had been revealed in that damning shard of light, nor had his boy been able to clamp his jaws shut and hold on to the frightened, tortured sob that ripped free from a ravaged throat.

“William,” Angel was up and out of the bed, half way across the room and heading for his Childe hidden once again by the shadows of the night. The panic evident in his tone was nothing compared to the worry bubbling on the inside. “Jesus Christ Will what happened? Who did this to…”

“NO!!!” The fear in Spike’s blistered scream froze Angel in his tracks. Spike backed himself into the corner and fell into a crouch, trying to make himself as small and inconspicuous as possible.

“Please. Just…just don’t look at me,” Spike finished miserably, his voice coarse with pain, thick with shame.

Closer now Angel could make out Spike’s silhouette and not wanting to frighten him, stayed where he was.

“What happened? Did you get in a fight? An accident?”

As before, Angel got no answer. Fully awake now and senses alert Angel scented the air for a clue.

“I…Oh God,” Angel couldn’t keep the tremor out of his voice as he ran one shaking hand through his hair.

“William. No. God, no. Will…”Angel whispered in shock. He felt bile rise in his throat, covered his mouth and forced the bitter fluid back down.

“No William, No God no,” he couldn’t stop his tremulous chanting. His throat convulsed again, his chest heaved once, then once more and Angel barely made it to the window and opened it in time to empty the contents of his stomach.

Though his stomach was empty, his body didn’t understand and continued to try and purge itself of the heart-wrenching pain. No matter how weak he felt he knew he had to be strong for his Childe.

Angel sucked in huge gasping lungfuls of the night air, trying to regain control over his body as he reigned in his feelings. He wasn’t important. He’d deal with his own hurt later, right now William needed him and that’s all that mattered.

Angel pulled his head back in and closed the window, then made his way over to his Childe.

He looked at his boy, currently folded in on himself with his forehead against his knees, duster pulled up around him exposing only a small amount of platinum hair. A heap of black leather with no visible face and the scent of self-loathing and disgust rolling off of him in waves,

Angel crouched down beside him. What was he supposed to say? What was he supposed to do?

He put his hand out to touch his boy, but Spike obviously sensed him and drew himself in tighter. Angel let him be.

“William,” Angel’s voice broke. He coughed and tried again, “Will,” his voice was steadier although choked with retained tears. “Do you…do you want to talk about…”

Under his protective cover, Spike shook his head ‘no’ cutting off Angel’s question.

“OK,” Angel hushed softly, reassuringly. “Do you…???” Angel faltered, not knowing what the hell to say, “Do you want to get cleaned up?” Angel had to work hard to hold back the sob threatening to break free from his constricted throat. What sort of question was that? Spike probably felt like scrubbing at his skin with holy water until it peeled right off. Of course he’d want to get cleaned up.

Spike was still for a long moment then slowly nodded his head ‘yes.’

“Alright,” Angel soothed, standing up and expecting Spike to rise with him. He didn’t.

“Can you…”Angel gulped down another sob, “can you stand?”

Spike nodded ‘yes’ and after a pause, uncurled himself and, oh so slowly, rose to his feet. He kept his head down still determined to hide his face from Angel’s gaze, his shoulders slumped in sorry defeat. He remained motionless, waiting for Angel to give him instructions as if he were unable to do anything of his own accord.

“Come on then,” Angel’s voice was warm and smooth as he gently took hold of his boy’s elbow to guide him, but released it again when Spike flinched. “It’s alright Will,” Angel tried to soothe him with his voice, soft and calming murmurs of encouragement as he led him towards the bathroom, his hands almost but not quite touching this time.

It was breaking Angel’s heart the way Spike shuffled along like the corpse he really was beside him, stopping every so often to gather the strength to take the next step, swaying as if he would pass out any second. No emotion, no purpose, just numb and following Angel’s lead.

Angel didn’t want to think about the fresh blood that he could smell since Spike had started moving.

As they entered the bathroom Angel automatically reached for the light pull and gave it a tug. Spike let out a strangled moan and turned violently away from his Sire, desperate to hide his face once more.

“Shit, I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” Angel frantically babbled his apologies as he pulled the cord and plunged the bathroom back into darkness. “God Will, I’m so sorry,” Angel hushed, unable to keep a trace of tears out of his voice this time. He reached out as if to touch the tense shoulders on the back presented to him, to offer comfort…to take comfort himself. He let his hands hover there for a moment, longing to hold his Childe, until he forced himself to pull away, letting his arms fall to rest uselessly by his sides.

“I’ll just…” Angel motioned towards the bath, not that Spike could see him, more for something to say. He turned on the taps, taking a swig of the water himself to swish around his mouth before spitting in down the drain to remove the foul taste of vomit, then putting in the stopper to allow the bath to fill. When the water was at a decent temperature and level he shut of the faucet.

“It’s ready,” Angel spoke softly. Spike gave one nod to show that he’d heard, but made no move.

“Let me help you,” Angel hushed after a moment. Spike shook his head ‘no’.

“Will, I won’t hurt you,” Angel soothed him, reaching out ready to help Spike remove his duster.

“I know,” Spike’s voice was rough but quiet. “Don’t want you to look at me,” Christ, he sounded as if he’d been gargling with razor blades.

“You’re hurt William. Just let me check you over yeah?”

“Don’t want you to see,” Spike stated more purposefully, straining his already scratchy voice.

“Will, I’m not leaving you alone.”

Silence.

“What if I sit over here?” Angel questioned, moving to take up a seat near the corner of the room.

Hesitation, then a nod of acceptance.

Angel sat in his chair and watched as Spike stepped out of his boots. He stood frozen for a few moments making Angel think that he wasn’t going to move again, but then slowly let his duster slip down his arms to pool on the floor.

Angel looked heavenward, blinking rapidly and trying to banish the tears that suddenly filled his eyes. Where the hell were the rest of his boy’s clothes?

Angel discreetly watched as Spike raised one leg to step into the bath, heard the hiss of pain…and was on his feet in time to catch his Childe as he fell into a faint.

Up close, the darkness offered no comfort against the sight that met Angels’ eyes. No illumination was needed for the vampire to see the rope burns around his Childe’s wrists, nor to see the filthy words scrawled across his skin in magic marker, the bite marks, a fucking boot tread imprinted on his chest, bruises, cigarette burns and oh god his beautiful face, battered beyond recognition. One eye was swollen shut, and that cheekbone was definitely broken. His luscious kissable lips, torn to shreds and coated with a hard white substance…oh no, please no, Angel felt the bile rise in his throat once more, Superglue….someone had tried to glue his Childe’s lips together.

Angel didn’t even try to hold back the tears as he held his broken boy in his arms, cradling him against his chest. All the Gods put together would not be able to save the perpetrator once Angel got his hands on him…and he would. Angel wouldn’t think about that now. Putting his boy back together was his first priority.

As Angel lowered Spike into the bath, the pain that had knocked him out now served to bring him round at an alarming speed.

“It’s alright. Will, it’s me. I’ve got you, you’re safe. I’ve got you,” Angel tried to calm his Childe, thrashing against him and screaming as much as his abused throat would allow.

“Sire?” Spike croaked as if in shocked disbelief.

“Yes Will, it’s me. You’re safe. I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Spike suddenly seemed to remember where he was and who he was with. He turned his head away from Angel in shame and muttered, “Don’t look at me.”

“I’m not looking at you,” Angel soothed him.

“You…you don’t have to touch me,” Spike murmured, disgusted with himself.

“Don’t have to touch you? What the hell are you saying,” Angel hushed at him, sorrow flooding his voice. He already knew the answer. He lent over the edge of the bath, cradled Spike against his chest and kissed his forehead. “Don’t you ever let me hear you speak like that again. Whatever happened was not you fault, do you hear me? Don’t you dare think yourself unworthy, do you understand? Look at me Childe. I said look at me,” Angel raised his voice a little when Spike refused him.

Angel’s voice softened to a hush as Spike slowly tilted his face upwards and met his eyes, “Do you see any disgust in my eyes for you? Do you see me not wanting to touch you? To hold you? No matter what has happened to you, it doesn’t make me love you any less, want you any less or make you any less. Christ Will, I love you and I’m not going to stop loving you over anything.” His declaration seemed to set Spike free.

Angel held him as he cried, soothed him with gentle hands and soft words as he washed him thoroughly, lovingly. Soap was used to remove as much physical evidence of his ordeal as possible. The bath was emptied and re-filled twice. Angel couldn’t bear to leave his Childe soaking in his own blood and some bastard’s filth. Warm, soft towels and Angel’s arms cocooned him. Solvent took care of the marker pen. A concoction that Wes had designed to eradicate demon gore erased all traces of glue. Mouthwash and toothpaste took away the nauseating tastes. Antiseptic, salve and Sire’s blood soothed his wounds and set them on the road to healing while stitches and tape secured the more brutal gashes.

Spike didn’t offer any information and Angel never pushed for any, Spike’s body told the horrendous tale clearly enough. If Spike wanted Angel to know anymore, he’d tell him in his own time.

Finally Angel took his Childe to bed with him, cuddled him close and kept him safe. Stroked his hair calmingly and reassured him with loving words as Spike nuzzled into his neck and drank from his veins, finding peace and comfort there.

“Sire?” Spike asked hesitantly after a long while.

“Aye, what it is my precious?”

“Could you…I mean, will you …I want…” Spike’s voice wasn’t as croaky as before, Sire’s blood giving his damaged throat much needed relief.

“What do you want Childe. You know I’ll give you anything I can,” Angel whispered.

“Will you…could you…touch me?”

Angel caught hold of Spike’s chin as his boy made to turn his head away in shame, afraid of what expression he might see on his Sire’s face. Angel answered him with a kiss, soft, wet and ever so gentle, well aware of the pain one wrong move could cause. He worked carefully as he showed Spike how much he loved him, using his hands, fingers and mouth to explore his entire body. Each caress, each kiss wiped away the memory of brutality suffered, re-claimed Spike’s body back and worked towards making him whole once more.

“Sire,” Spike asks; his voice so full of fear and uncertainty that Angel ceases his actions and moves to make eye contact with him. No words are needed. Angel can hear Spike’s longing loud and clear.

Sliding down Spike’s body Angel fears that he won’t be able to give his Childe what he needs. As he gently opens Spike’s legs and reveals his brutalised passage he knows that he has to try. His boy needs him to take the pain away, erase the memory.

Angel bites his tongue and lets his healing blood flow freely as he licks around and then enters his Childe’s body, slowly, gently to soothe his torn, raw flesh. No amount of blood, no amount of soap have made this task easy for Angel. He wants to gag as he can taste the filthy semen of at least three others; humans…yet even so he knows they’ll still suffer death by his own hand in time. Angel wants to cry, wants to vomit but forces himself to continue until every last drop of that revolting fluid is gone forever.

“Please?” Spike asks again and Christ, Angel can’t do this. Yet he knows he must.

Angel realises that Spike must see the sorrow in his eyes, yet he understand it for what it is; sadness for the trauma that he’s been through, not revulsion towards himself, not a denial of his love.

“Please… Angelus, Please…Daddy,” Spike hushes, knows that it’ll make Angel hard. Knows that the information will bypass his brain and go straight where it’s needed, giving him the strength to perform.

“I love you,” Angel reassures his Childe as he prepares to deliver absolution.

“Love you Will,” as he enters him, slow and steady watching his boy’s features closely for any sign of pain.

“I love you Sire, my one and….” Spike’s voice catches in his throat as realisation of what he was about to say hits him, words brought forth out of habit.

“My one and only,” Angel finished for him, almost fiercely, tears welling and spilling from his eyes. Desperately wants Spike to believe it. Wants to forget that anyone has violated *his* place. He had always been William’s one and only, *there* and will make it so again.

“My one and only,” Spike confirms surely, tears brimming to match those of his creator, knows that his Sire will him make him new again, untouched…clean.

Angel leans forward to capture Spike’s lips, kisses him deeply as he rocks his hips back and forth, back and forth. He feels Spike’s flaccid cock come to life against his stomach as they work together now trying to chase the torment away, clutching one another, rocking harder, faster, desperately until with a flood of white, clean, fresh bliss both are pure once more.

Redemption is delivered, sweet benediction, and exhausted they fall asleep in one another’s arms.

xxXxx

Angel wakes as he feels his Childe slip out of his arms a long while after sundown, after hour upon hour of restful, healing sleep. Watches as he goes first to Angel’s cupboard and helps himself to some jeans…not like they weren’t his anyway, old ones left behind some other time… before heading for the clothes hamper. Angel carries on watching as Spike sifts through the worn clothes, doesn’t want something smelling of fresh detergent, that’s not the scent he’s after.

“Here,” Angel startles Spike with his one soft word, picking up the shirt he’d taken off when he got into bed last night and throwing to his Childe. Spike catches the shirt, brings it to his nose and inhales deeply before smiling and slipping it on.

Angel knows his Childe is leaving and both praises and damns the rapid healing properties of Sire’s blood. Knows Spike’s got his own thing to do. Also knows that he’s not going far…he never does. Even so, feels the need to remind him all the same, “you’ve always got a home here, you know that. You don’t have to go. If you ever need me…” Angel lets the sentence hang as Spike goes into the bathroom to collect his boots and duster.

Angel thinks about how he’s going to find a solution to deactivating Spike’s chip, hasn’t found a way yet and it’s certainly not through lack of trying. He also thinks about how in a few hours time he’ll be going out, acting as judge, jury and executioner to a bunch of humans he’s already condemned without trial, dead men walking. The verdict has already been reached…although the preliminary punishments have yet to be decided. Yes, Angel has some hunting to do today.

“I know,” Spike states softly in response to Angel’s unfinished words, as walks back into the bedroom.

One long lingering kiss initiated by Spike, ended by Spike.

“If ever you need me,” Angel reminds him again, same as he does every time his boy turns up, “I’m always here for you.”

“I know,” Spike confirms again, then after a pause, “Thanks.” Not for the offer, no that’s always been there, just thanks…thanks for putting him back together.

“I love you William,” Angel hushes as his Childe put his hand on the door knob and turns it.

A pause then, “I love you too Sire,” before he’s gone.

THE END

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