Rating: R
Pairing: Spike/Angel
Summary: Spike has been bad. Angel punishes him.
A/N: Takes place after the unpleasant bathroom scene between Buffy and Spike in season 6. Spike decides to leave town but doesn't go to Africa, so no soul. And of course, in my world, Angel(us) is Spike's sire.
Feedback: Yes, please.
E-mail: jtzidanic@webtv.net
Distribution: If you want it just ask.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.
Thanks: To Mel, who beta'd this for me. You're great.
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~Part: 1~
The first thing he is aware of is the splitting pain in his head. It feels like someone tried to open his skull with an axe. He tries to touch his head to assess whatever damage has been done. His arm barely moves and he hears the rattle of chains. He tries the other arm, and gets the same response.
'Fuck! I hate wakin' up like this. And ye', I've woke up like this before. More times than I care to remember,' he thinks to himself.
The predator in him kicks in and he stills. He keeps his eyes shut for the moment. He reaches out with his other senses. He doesn't hear any heartbeats, so no humans nearby, thank Satan. That means he may have a fighting chance of getting out of here.
He continues to scan his surroundings. There are no sounds, could mean he's alone. He sniffs the air, scenting, but all he can smell are chemicals. The scent is old, but still heavy in the air. He must be in an old factory, or maybe a mill of some sort.
He braces himself and opens his eyes slowly. His vision is foggy. He refrains from shaking his head, knowing that would just cause pain. He tries blinking his eyes rapidly a few times and that seems to help. His vision clears enough to take in his surroundings.
He was right. It's some kind of old factory. There's a lot of machinery. Empty boxes and crates are scattered across the floor. The windows have all been boarded over. But he doesn't see anything to tell him exactly where he is or who brought him here.
He takes notice of his own condition for the first time. He's suspended from chains attached to an iron support beam in the ceiling. 'Even vampire strength won't be pullin' that loose.' His feet are chained to the floor spread wide, toes barely touching the ground. He's been stripped bare but, aside from the obvious head trama, he's uninjured.
Since it looks like he's alone and won't be going anywhere for the moment, he tries to remember how the hell he got here.
He'd decided to leave town. After the drama in Buffy's bathroom, he was pretty much disgusted with himself, with her, and pretty much everything that had happened between them. And it was obvious from the way the others were treating him that they were disgusted too. 'Don't think they're aware of what happened the last time the Slayer and me were together. It's just the thought of us bein' together that's got them wigged. Figured it'd be better if I left now, than wait for Buffy to fill 'em in on just how wrong things got.'
He remembers going back to his crypt to pack up the things he was taking with him. Wasn't much. Not like he owned a lot or needed a lot. His beloved duster, his smokes, what few pieces of clothing he had, his last couple of bags of blood, and a bottle of whiskey he nicked.
Oh, and he wrote a note to Clem, letting him know he was taking off and he could have his crypt and anything still in it. He wouldn't be needing them any more.
He remembers gathering up his stuff in his arms and heading out the door of his crypt. Then nothing until waking up here. 'Damn, someone must've been waitin' for me outside of me crypt.' He was so involved in his own thoughts of self-disgust he hadnt even scensed anyone. 'Stupid, stupid, stupid! Am I pathetic, or what? Some master vampire.'
He hears a door open behind him and freezes. Someone enters and shuts the door. The chemicals are making it impossible to smell anything else, so he can't pick up the person's scent. No, wait. No heartbeat. Not a person, a vampire. 'Damn, who'd I piss off now?'
"I see you're finally awake."
"Angel?" 'What the fuck is he doing here?' "Wanna tell me what the fuck....oomph!"
The blow catches him by surprise. It connects with his right side, forcing the un-needed air from his lungs, and cracking a rib.
Angel walks around and stands in front of him. The look on his face speaks volumes. Spike has seen that look before, on Angelus, and he knows what it means. 'I'm so fucked.'
Spike tries hard to quell the fear that's starting to take up residence in the pit of his stomach. He knows that if Angel smells it, he'll use it to make this worse for him.
Angel gives him one of his patented Angelus smirks. "Did you really think I wouldn't find out, boy?"
"What..."
This time he saw the blow coming but couldn't avoid it. His jaw dislocated with the force of the punch, snapping his head to the side, jarring his neck. Spike saw stars and had to shake his head to keep from blacking out.
Angel's eyes were rimmed with gold. "Did you really think I would let you stay in Sunnydale without having you watched?" he snarled.
'Oh, fuck! He knows about me and the Slayer. He's gonna dust me.' Spike couldn't control the fear any more. And Angel saw it, smelt it. His nostrils flared and his eyes changed to gold, then back again. He moved in closer to Spike.
"You've forgotten your place, boy. You dared to touch what's MINE! And THEN, when Buffy rejected you, you tried to RAPE HER! You have disrespected me for the last time, Childe." Angel's voice is like liquid venom. His eyes tell a story of the pain to come.
Spike has never been more happy not to be human, than he is at this very moment. Because he's absolutely certain, if he were human, he'd be pissing and shitting himself.
"I...I didn't...that's not what...I'm sorry," Spike whispers. He is so scared he can't get his mind to even complete a thought.
Angel chuckles and runs a finger down the side of Spike's face, tracing the jaw line. He grabs a fistful of hair and forces Spike to look him in the eye.
"Sorry? No, Childe. Not yet. But you will be." He releases Spike's hair and begins to circle him. "You see, Childe, I've made a decision. I'm not going to dust you. You're still my favoured childe. But I'm through fighting and arguing with you. I'm through with the disrespect and disobedience. I've obviously been negligent in my duty of training you. Unfortunately, for you," and there's that Angelus smirk again, "I have neither the time nor the patience to break you. Sooo..." He stops in front of Spike, making sure he has his full attention. "We're going to start again, from the beginning."
Spike stared at his wrathful sire in confussion. Something about what his sire just said was tickling an old memory and filling him with apprehension. 'What the bloody hell does he mean 'start from the beginning'?'
Suddenly the memory came to him and Spike's blood froze. He lost all feeling in his arms and legs. If it weren't for the chains, he would have collapsed onto the floor.
'Oh. Sweet. Satan. NO! He wouldn't. He couldn't. Not even Angelus at his worst would do something so horrific.'
He remembered listening to the old Master recount a tale of how some sires chose to deal with hard-to-control childer. They would drain them almost dry. Then they would feed them a little of their blood. Just enough to start the healing process but not enough to revive them. It would take days, with so little blood, for the young vampire to heal.
Afterwards, they would put them in a coffin and rebury them. Once the vampire had healed enough, they would have to break free and dig their way out of their grave, just as they had the day they were born. The whole ordeal was said to be able to break the mind and will of the strongest vampire, leaving them complacent and easily molded by their sire.
Spike was gripped by a fear stronger than anything he had ever felt before. His body trembled so hard the chains rattled. 'He's gonna do it. He's really gonna do it. He's gonna bury me again. Oh, fuck! Oh, fuck!'
Angel just stood there watching his childe. He saw everything as it happened: the confussion, the apprehension, the growing realization of what was to come, and the fear. Especially the fear. It rolled off his childe so strongly it almost consumed him.
Angel was being torn in two. His soul was feeling guilty about putting Spike through this. His demon was roaring to punish his childe for his transgressions. But in the end they agreed, this had to be done.
Spike started shaking his head violently. "N-No! S-Sire, please, NO! I-I'll do better. I'll be good. I won't disrespect you again. I promise, Sire! I promise! Please! I'm sorry! I've learned my lesson. Please...please...please...don't..." A low keening started to come from his chest. It's a noise a childe makes when begging from their sire. Blood-red tears flowed from his eyes and he could do nothing more than whimper and beg.
Something in Angel's heart twisted when he heard the keening start. But he wouldn't let it sway him. He reached out and once again grabbed Spike by the hair and forced his childe to look at him. "It's too late for sorries and promises, Childe. You've used up all but this chance with me. This IS going to happen: and, if this doesn't work, I WILL dust you." That said, Angel yanked Spike's head back, shifted to his true face, and bit into his childe.
"SIRE!" Spike wailed when he felt his sire's fangs sink into him. And then he was overwhelmed, his body reacting to his sire. Trying to get closer to him even as his mind screamed out at the horror of what was happening.
If done properly, there's a way to drain a vampire to a point where he loses the ability to function, but doesn't lose consciousness. Angelus was a master at this type of torture and, whatever Angelus knew, Angel knew.
Angel felt his childe go limp. 'Just a little more.....there!' Angel stopped sucking and retracted his fangs. He held Spike up with one arm, while he used the other to release the chains. As soon as he had him free of all his bindings, he picked him up and carried him over to an old work station. He laid his childe down gently on his stomach.
He ran his hands up and down Spike's smooth back and firm ass. Then he popped him on the ass cheek hard enough to leave a hand print. "I know you can still hear me Spike. I want you to know what's happening. I'm going to mark you, bind you to me." He reaches out and places his hand on the small of Spike's back where his mark will be.
"It's for your own good. It'll make it easier for you to follow my orders and remember your place. One way or another, Childe, when this is over things will be different."
Spike could hear his sire talking but his mind was already starting to bend under the stress of what was happening. It kept playing the same mantra over and over. 'I'm sorry. I'll be good. I'm sorry. I'll be good.'
Angel picked a box up off the floor and started emptying the contents onto the table. There were a couple of needles, a jar of black ink, and a Celtic ritual knife. He was going to tattoo his mark onto his childe's back and then bind it with his blood.
He opened the jar of ink, picked up one of the needles, and got started. Angel was good at drawing, and he'd done a few tattoos in his time, so it didn't take him long. When he was finished he studied the end result.
Spike now had the Celtic 'Spiral of Life' symbol on his back. A series of three swirled circles, positioned to form a triangle, made from a single, never-ending line. The first circle was Life, the second was Death, and the third was Rebirth. It was fitting.
In the center, between the circles, was a Celtic letter 'A' for Angel. He picked up the ritual knife, and pricked his thumb. He placed the bleeding digit in the center of the tattoo, directly on the 'A'. He whispered a few ancient words and the area where the tattoo was grew warm for a minute, then cooled. The ritual was now complete. Spike's Life, Death, and Rebirth were now bound to Angel.
He picked his childe up and cradled him in his arms. He carried him down into the basement of the old factory. There was a make-shift coffin sitting there waiting. Next to it, the hole Angel had dug earlier.
Angel placed a soft kiss on Spike's forehead. "It's time, Childe. I'll be waiting for you." He laid Spike in the box and closed the lid, locking it.
The mantra in Spike's head changes to 'please no, please no, please no...', but there's nothing he can do to stop this.
Angel slides the box containing his childe into the hole. He shovels the dirt back in until it's filled. His mind replaying its own mantra over and over again. 'It will work. It will work. It will work.'
When he was done, he left the factory, got in his car, and drove to the closest motel. It would be two nights before Spike woke; and he had no doubt that this would be the longest two nights of their lives.
~Part: 2~
Spike spent the following day trapped inside his own mind, in a nightmare of his own making. Memories of waking up, buried 'alive', had him screaming in his head. Fighting to get control of where his thoughts were going, he started traveling through his past. He relived every time he had disobeyed his sire. In rhetrospect there was never a good reason for it. His sire had only been acting in his best interest.
'I'm so sorry, Sire.'
He was trying to teach him how to survive in a world where there was always something more dangerous than you, waiting for a chance to kill you.
'I'm sorry, Sire.'
Just looking out for his 'Little One'.
'I'm sorry, Sire.'
He was so stubborn. Had to fight him every step of the way.
'I'm sorry, Sire.'
It was his sire's teachings after all, that had kept him alive after Angelus received his soul.
'I'm sorry, Sire.'
And so it went throughout the day. Spike remembered every lesson his sire had tried to teach him. And then he remembered everything he had done to screw it up. The time after Angelus received his soul was the worst.
'I'm sorry, Sire.'
Spike's heart ached and his mind screamed out apologies only he could hear.
'I'm sorry..so sorry.....sorry...'
* * * * *
Angel didn't fare much better that day. He wasn't sure that what he was doing to his childe was right. Maybe he should have just dusted Spike.
'NO!' 'NO!' 'NO!'
His heart, his soul, and his demon cried out in unison. Spike was their favoured childe. Their 'Little One'. Their son. They couldn't give him up. Not unless there was no other choice. Angel had meant what he said to Spike. If this didn't work he'd dust him. He could no longer deal with a childe he can't control.
'It'll work. It has to.'
With that last somber thought, Angel drifted into a fitful sleep.
* * * * *
That night, Angel was restless. He felt like a caged animal in that motel room. He was instantly wracked with guilt at that thought. What must his childe be feeling, confined in his make-shift coffin, buried beneath the earth?
Angel shook his head to clear his mind. He couldn't allow himself to think like that. He had to stay strong.
As soon as the sun had set enough to be safe, Angel burst from his room. He resembled one of those animals seen on the Discovery Channel being released back into the wild.
At that moment, Angel was feeling very much like an animal. A predator. He was wired with pent-up energy and emotion, and there was only one way to be rid of it. Angel was going hunting. Anything nonhuman that crossed his path that night was going to die. Violently.
* * * * *
While Angel was out thinning the demon population, Spike was going through some changes.
Like a caterpillar in a cocoon changes into a butterfly, Spike was transforming. His mind and nature were bending, twisting, melding together. That which was William, the fledgling and that which was Spike, the master vampire, were merging into one being. The Childe.
'Master-Boy_____Sire-Childe_____Angelus-William/Little One_____Father-Son______Angel-Spike_____Creator-For Him_____His______His_____HIS!'
'His Boy!' 'His Childe!' 'His Little One!' 'His Son!' 'HISHISHISHISHISHISHISHIS....'
* * * * *
The next day, Angel couldn't sleep. He paced the room endlessly. 'Soon.' It was almost time. He could feel it. Spike would rise tonight. Spike....but not Spike. He would be different, changed. That was the purpose of the Rebirth. He would not be William, as he was the first time he was born. Nor would he be Spike, the Spike he was before this. He would no longer be Angelus' wayward, rebelious offspring.
Angel froze mid-pace. He would no longer be Angelus'. He was not being created by Angelus. He would be Angel's. Angel's creation. Angel's childe.
Angel sat heavily on the end of the bed as the realization hit him. "My childe. Mine."
With the soul Angel knew he would never have childer of his own. The guilt of taking a life would drive him insane. He was tied to Angelus' childer through blood and memory. He had come to terms with never having his own family.
But now.....now Angel is creating his own childe. 'Mine.' The creature that rises this night would belong to Angel and no other. 'Mine.'
Every fiber of his body was screaming for him to go back to the factory. To get to his childe. 'He's waking.'
Angel grabbed the blanket from the bed, wrapped it around himself, and ran for his car. He had to get there now.
* * * * *
Spike's body started to come alive again. He was getting feeling back in his body. He gasped for un-needed air, and then began to pant. The action helping to bring him back faster.
His demon was raging in his body, a primal need driving him to break free. His eyes flew open and glowed golden in the darkness. He threw back his head and roared. He may just be awakening, but he was no weak fledgling. He had the strength of a vampire over a century old.
He pulled back, and then punched his fist forward with all his might, disintegrating the top of his prison. Dirt fell in on top of him, and he began to claw his way out. To Him.
* * * * *
Angel got to the basement just as Spike roared. He shifted, allowing his demon out. He walked over to the grave, and reached out with his senses. He could feel the power of 'his' childe. So much stronger than a fledgling.
Angel started producing a low gutteral vibration. A cross between a growl and a purr. Calling out to his childe, encouraging him to dig, to crawl, to come to him.
The earth over the grave began to shift, and two clawed hands broke through the surface. Angel increased the vibration, pushing his childe. This was all the help he offered. Spike needed to do this himself.
The head and shoulders breached the surface, and Angel squatted down to stare his childe in the face. "Come", he commanded.
Spike growled, and pulled his body from the earth. He crawled toward his sire with the grace of a large, predatory cat. "Sssire," he hissed.
"Childe," Angel growled in answer.
When Spike reached his sire he prostated himself. Placing his hands out in front of him, he kissed Angel's foot, then waited for his sire's next command.
Angel unbuttoned the front of his shirt. Slicing open the flesh over his left breast, he waited for the blood to start flowing freely.
"Drink, Childe."
When the scent of his sire's blood hit him, Spike's nostrils flared, and he began to whine. Hearing the command, he moved to take the breast into his mouth.
"Do. Not. Bite."
"Yes, Sire," Spike answered and then took the offering into his mouth and began to suckle.
Angel watched his childe, reveling in the feel of being fed from. It had been a long time since he'd felt this kind of pleasure. He waited until he was sure his childe had enough, and then he pulled Spike from him. "Enough."
Spike immediately began to whine. "No," Angel said sternly. Spike lowered his eyes, and pressed himself against his sire, relishing the contact. It calmed his demon, and allowed him to shift back to his human guise.
Angel picked up the blanket he had used to protect himself from the sun. He wrapped it around his naked childe. Picking Spike up, he cradled him once again in his arms. He carried him out of the factory, and placed him on the back seat in his car.
Spike peeked out of the blanket at him with questioning eyes. "Sleep," Angel whispered to him. He obeyed the order without hesitation, snuggling down into the blanket, and pulling it up to cover his face.
Angel couldn't help the smile that crossed his face as he watched this. It was a good start.
He sighed as he got into the car and started the long drive back to LA. Knowing what awaited him there was almost enough to spoil his mood and start him brooding. Almost.
* * * * *
~Fin~