DISCLAIMER: I am not Joss Whedon. I own no-one.
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: S/A
DISTRIBUTION: If you have other slash of mine, you can have this, too. Also, my site, when the lovely Goddess Jeannette has time for an update...*g*
FEEDBACK: tells me if I'm doing this right!!!
DEDICATIONS: to Jeannette, of course, and Nat (usual reasons)... also, anyone who's enjoying this little romp.
NOTES: Okay, sometime after Spike told Slutty he loved her, but before the end of S5:B, Spike took off for LA. He's been staying with Angel (his Sire, cuz I don't think Dru has enough sense to make even a minion, much less a childe...), and they've gotten rather... cozy? Last part, they wound up in Pylea with Gunn, Wes, and Lorne. So, other than the 'little' matter of Spike leaving Sunnyhell, and Angelus being his Sire, this story will basically follow canon. Certain things will be... adjusted... because of the blond wonder's presence, but...::shrug:: Oh, and * *= emphasis.
POV: Spike first, then Angel, Spike, Angel, etc... (usually I do Angel first, but not this time!!!)
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I hate this sodding dimension. I really do. It's wrong, and it's bright, and it's *not* *home*! There's nothing about this place that's even remotely pleasant anymore, and I just want to get the fuck *out*!
Okay, so part of that's 'cause the pouf's gone bloody missing, but still!
Even the sunlight isn't enough to make up for that... *thing*.
It started off nice enough-- a long, bloody and *bloody* shag session with my Sire out there in the sun and grass. Yeah, that was fucking brilliant! Then we met up with the rest of the gang, and quick as you can blink, we're taken before their sodding *Princess*, who turns out to be... the May Queen. Kind of a step down, in my opinion. At least in LA she didn't have to dress like the guest of honour at a belly-dancing convention, but that's beside the point.
So, the broody bastard takes me along with him and his Liberace-impersonator friend. We find the sodding green git's sodding green cousin, and... Oh, by the way, *Angel's* a bloody 'drachen-killer'. They practically gave him the key to the fucking city for that, all the while staring at me and calling me a 'cow'.
Cow! Me! William the fucking Bloody! Prancy green pricks can't make a decent pair of pants, but they can call me a cow.
Still, the mighty pouf set them straight right off. Told them that I was 'essential to his success as a Warrior', or some such rot. Yeah, I'm essential, all right. Got the essential mouth and essential ass, I do.
I'm fine with that, though, because I actually *do* help my Sire a lot with the fighting and whatnot. It's the only way I can get myself a decent spot of violence, in't?
So they dressed him up, let him tell his little stories, and all the while he's acting like I don't even exist. Rotten bugger.
'Course, that didn't last long, because turns out they wanted him to whack some little chit's head off. I'd've done it, myself, but Poufy's not me, is he? No, he had to go getting all indignant and refusing, and next thing I know? We're in the middle of a fucking battle!
Okay, a lot of what happened is kind of boring, but in the end... we ran off into what passes for the wild in this bloody awful place, and when they came after us? Well, it was all right until one of those right bastards tried to kill me.
Sire went crazy, he did, turning into some pointy-headed freak. His fingers grew into claw-looking things, and... I could barely even watch when he savaged that demon. Not because it was vicious, and disgusting, and bloody awful, but because... Fuck, it made me hot! Still, didn't particularly want to be shagging with anything what looked like *that*, so I just... watched, and tried not to get any harder.
Guess the beast could still smell it on me, though, because...
* * * *
I took him. I remember it so clearly, it's like I have the whole scene etched on the insides of my eyelids. I tore apart that bastard who was trying to kill my boy, and then I turned on him, and I just... took him. I didn't care that he was trying to stop me, didn't care that he was horrified by what I'd become. No, all I could think-- feel-- was the smell of him, and the knowledge that he was *mine*.
This dimension is completely different from home. Back in LA, I can control the demon. Here, when it gets out, it stays out until it feels like resting, and I get to have all the memories, still.
I ran at him, and flung myself down on top of him. My fingers clawed at his jeans, tearing them to shreds in mere moments, and when he tried to push himself out from under me, I let him go for just long enough to tear my own pants away.
He was dashing up the hill; I guess he thought he could find somewhere to hide, but I chased after him, and jumped on his back. We tumbled to the ground, and I remember him begging me not to do it, but... he was beneath me, that perfect ass of his pressing up against my cock, and there was no way the creature I was would listen to him. I snarled, fastening my teeth roughly on the nape of his neck, and he stilled completely. My hips moved against those tense, pale globes of flesh, and when he didn't spread for me quickly enough, I let my entire weight pin him to the ground, the claw-like tips of my fingers moving roughly down his sides. I grasped his knees, and yanked them apart, and...
God, I didn't even stop when I heard him whimpering. Hell, I loved the sounds, honestly. They drove me on. My pelvis lifted from him for just a moment, and I howled in pure pleasure as I slammed fully into his tightly clenched asshole, his screams and the smell of blood making me even more ferocious. My teeth moved to the top of his shoulder and I bit down hard as my hands left his legs to pin his wrists against the ground.
Even at my worst, back in my pre-curse days, I was never so cold and cruel to him. I never treated him like a *thing*, an object. He was mine, and we both knew it, and when I had cause to punish him, I always made sure that he enjoyed it. Eventually. This wasn't even remotely like that.
I held him down, and slammed harshly into him, forcing myself deeper than I should have been able to get. I felt him tearing even more around me, and it only made me thrust harder, faster. His screams had died to small grunts and moans, and I wasn't even anywhere near finished with him.
I remember swallowing deep, thick mouthfuls of his blood, reveling in the taste of my own bloodline, and my hips moved even faster. The ground beneath my knees was becoming sodden with blood, and I wanted more. But he seemed to be losing interest, or at least not paying attention, so I pulled my blood-slicked cock from his freely bleeding hole, and rolled him onto his back. I kept my hold on his wrists, even as my knees moved up the sides of his body, and as soon as I was high enough, I slid my thick, rock-hard shaft between his lax lips.
I know I growled roughly, sawing in and out of his cool, wet mouth, but my growls tapered off when he finally began sucking. His eyes were clenched shut, and I could smell the tears leaking from their corners, but I didn't care. I wanted to make my claim entirely clear.
After a few minutes of his mouth, I pulled my cock from his lips and moved down his body again. My knees forced their way between his, and I snarled at him until he bent his legs, then I slammed deep into that abused hole of his again. His scream was truly gratifying, and the next one even more so.
It might have been minutes-- or hours-- before I finally slammed into him for the last time, and as I gushed thick, streaming ribbons of seed deep into his bleeding ass, I stabbed my teeth roughly into his throat, and drank until he passed out.
I pulled myself from him, grunting wildly, and collapsed beside him, dragging him close, and... then, I slept.
He was still out when I woke up, my human face firmly on, and... what could I say to him that could possibly be enough?
How can I tell him I'm sorry, when that thing inside me is just itching to do it all over again? Because it is. Even now, with miles between me and my boy, the creature I became is thinking about his lips, his ass. Thinking about finding him, and fucking him even harder, until he starts to like it.
I won't let that happen, though, and if that means I have to run and hide for the rest of eternity, then so be it. He's my boy, my childe, and I love him. I won't ever hurt him like that again.
* * * *
There was nothing sodding fun or even amusing about coming to half naked on the cold ground. Nothing fucking enjoyable about looking around and realizing that I was not only alone, but had no pants that could be termed such. The soggy, ravaged scraps of denim a few feet away could hardly be called jeans anymore, and that was bad enough. Then I tried to move.
"Fucking prick!" I screamed out to the darkening sky, even though I could tell the sodding git was nowhere nearby. "Shit-fucking-asshole wanker!"
My entire body felt like it'd been mauled by fucking lions, or at least what I imagine that might feel like. Every inch of my skin felt raw and open, and I can't even begin to explain how much my ass hurt.
I once saw a movie where some little chit was raped with a broken bottle. Girl had it easy, I think. At least she got to die.
So I lay there in the dirt, the smell of my own blood mixed with that brown earth filling my nostrils, and... I wanted to hate him. Angel. My Sire. The prancy git who'd always been just a bit too 'human', in my opinion. The sodding pouf who I always razzed for not being enough of a demon. I wanted to hate him. And I couldn't.
I hated what he'd done. Hated what he'd become. Didn't hate *him*, though. The only real thought clattering about in my stunned brain was... Something about sodding Lorne's bloody dimension made Angel's demon different, and I was gladder than fuck that I hadn't had to change, myself, yet, because... If that's what my Sire became, even with a soul, who knows what the fuck *I* might have turned into? What might I have done to *him*?
And the very fact that I was getting all broody like the bloody ponce,
and over something that hadn't even happened, was enough to convince me
that I had to find him.
See, I know my Sire, and this isn't something he's gonna just... bounce back from. It's not the kind of thing that getting all introspective for a while is gonna fix. No, he'll be off somewhere punishing himself for what's happened, and eventually he'll decide that he can't rationalize any of it away, and...
He'd better not do anything fucking stupid, damn it! I spent too many nights, years, decades without him, and... I can't go back to that! I *can't*! I need the ponce, I do, and if I have to tie him up for the next twenty years, just to keep him from dusting himself, then that's exactly what I'll do. I love him, after all. Even with the things that happened here, and this brand new shiny insight into just what he is-- what *I* am-- that doesn't change. I love him. He's mine. And he owes me now, more than his weepy little *soul* will think he can ever repay. And maybe it's right, but... I'm the owed. *I* get to choose what kind of payment is acceptable, right? Right.
Still, first I need to get back on my feet, and to do that, I need blood.
Fortunately, my very stillness is enough to convince one of the predators they have here that I'm either dead or dying. Maybe it's the stench of rapidly souring blood. Whatever it is, though, the sodding big fucking ugly thing is coming closer, so I play up my lack of movement, forcing a bit of fear into my eyes. It seems to know what that should mean, too.
Hell, I don't know that this thing's an animal. Maybe it's yet another of the gnarly, twisted-looking natives. Doesn't matter, though, because whatever it is, it's not human. The chip doesn't even give a twinge when I grab the monster leaning over me and sink my teeth in. I have to be careful not to shift all the way, but just letting my teeth slip to true gives me some clue as to what the mighty pouf felt when he went full-on demon.
Fuck! The power is just... fucking awesome! I feel like I could rule the world-- any world! I could just wrap my fingers around the throat of time and space and squeeze until it gives. I could mold everything in my own image, and I'm a God.
But I remember that image, from the look I got at Angel before the... unpleasant part of our little shag-fest, and fuck it, I don't want to exist in a world that looks like that, so I push that power away, and when it's finally gone, it's more of a relief than anything else.
I'm such a sodding ponce, myself.
I push the body of the creature away, and slowly make myself stand. My knees are trembling just a bit, but that's all right. I can deal with that. What I *can't* deal with is having my most treasured bits flapping in the breeze, and that's when I see them.
They're laying in the dirt a good fifteen feet away, but I guess that's where that sodding fuck-wad tossed them. Angel's pants.
They don't fit, of course, what with my ass being nowhere near as massive as my Sire's, but they'll do. I don't see his froufy silk boxers around anywhere, though. I guess he decided to wear them. Good thing, that, 'cause I don't fancy any of the freakish folk who live here seeing him starkers. That's *my* right, and mine alone.
'Course, if I want to *see* him, I have to *find* him first. But I will. I'll stay out here forever if I have to. I'll find him.
* * * *
I don't know exactly where I am, but there's nobody else around, and that's a good thing. I don't think I could stand to see anyone right now. I'm more of a bastard than I ever thought possible, and I'm the last 'person' in this entire world who deserves the solace of company, especially when I don't know how to keep that fucking beast from coming back out.
He's right there in the back of my head, turning over the memories of my boy. He's trying to excite me with mumbles of the things we could still do to him, and... I won't.
I won't allow it, but the demon doesn't believe me. It thinks I *liked* treating Spike that way, and... maybe a very small part of me did. But the rest of me is just *sick*. How can I love him, and take any pleasure from what I did to him? How can I ever even *look* at him again? He must hate me, and I really can't blame him for that.
This dimension is the last place I ever should have come, regardless of whether Cordelia was here or not. Hell, they made her their *Princess*! If I'd known that, I would have just stayed home.
But much as I'd like to, I can't hold her responsible for any of what's happened. It's not her fault; it's mine. *I* followed her, *I* let Spike come, and *I* was the one who lost it when I thought he was in danger. *Me*. No-one else, just... *me*, and I don't deserve to live.
It's the small sound of shuffling feet at the entrance to this hollow pile of rocks that draws my attention, and I squint through the darkness, afraid that even using my enhanced sight will bring the demon back out. It's a small, achingly thin brunette woman who approaches me, and... I recognize her. I saw her picture on that flyer at the Library. I was supposed to kill her in the town square. "Fred?" I say, so softly it's almost a whisper.
She looks like she's not sure I'm really here, although the words that come out of her mouth have me more confused than anything else. "Handsome man," she says, moving closer.
"Stop." I say, afraid that the scent of fresh blood beating in her body will be too much, but she just shakes her head, and smiles strangely. "I don't want to hurt you," I say, my voice almost begging, but she shakes her head again.
"You won't hurt me," she tells me, and she sounds so sure, I almost believe her. "You're a good man," she finishes, even as she sets about lighting the pile of twigs in what passes for a fire pit.
I want to laugh, or cry, or scream. *Something*. I want to tell her that I'm not a 'man', good or otherwise. I do none of those things. How could I possibly make her understand?
* * * *
I can still smell the sodding ponce in the air, so he can't have been gone for long. Been following his scent, I have, and fuck if I can't smell that incredible burden of guilt he's carrying around, too. I guess he must've been *really* freaked to have come this far this fast, though, and while I'm actually finding that... comforting, for some unknown fucking reason, it's also...
Bloody hell, it's painful, all right? 'Cause he ran away, far and fast, from *me*! And maybe I'm wrong about his reasons. Maybe it's not that he *feels* *bad*, but that the great prancy bastard just wanted to get the hell away from me! Maybe... Jesus-fuck, I sound like even more of a ponce than *he* is, but... maybe Angel's tired of me?
The very thought is enough to have me close to losing it, but... No. I can't let that happen. I want to find him, and Yeah, I want to punish him, but not the way I would if I let that *thing* take over. He's *not* sick of me. He can't be. 'Cause I'm not sick of him.
No, I'm gonna find the poor weepy prick, and by the time I'm through with him, he'll *know* that he's been paid back for our little 'episode' a while back. That's how this is gonna play out. I won't let it happen any other way.
I'm gonna tie him up, and then... Oh, yeah. Sire's gonna *pay*, all
right. Think he might even enjoy it, in the end. Fuck knows *I* will.
So the poncy bugger's made good time, but I'm close enough to feel him now. I'm quiet as only a vampire can be while I approach the great sodding pile of rocks that's swimming in the stink of him. The stink of him and a *human*? What the *fuck*!
* * * *
I'm going insane, and what's worse is that I know it, because I could almost swear I feel my childe. It's not possible, though; Spike can't be nearby, not after what I did to him. Hell, if he's even awake by now, I'm sure he's run as far as he can get from me. If I'm lucky, the guys'll figure out how to get home and just... *go*.
I'm tainted now, and once they see Spike, they'll know it. They'll understand, I think, why I ran away, and I doubt they'll even want to look for me. I don't blame them.
Really, I'm just waiting until I know they're gone. I've hurt my boy enough; I don't even want to *think* about what kind of pain he'd be in if I staked myself before he went through the portal back to LA. I remember the pain that flooded through me when I killed my own Sire, and I can't do that to him. Of course, it's too little, too late, but... I'm fairly sure that once he's gone, he won't feel a thing.
I deserve to die for the way I treated him. I love him, and I need him, and Gods know I *want* him, but... I can never see him again. I can't stand the idea of looking into those wide blue eyes and seeing only hatred and fear. All I wanted was for him to love me, and... Oh, God...
"Spike...?" I try to say, but my voice isn't working. It *can't* be him; it just... can't.
And yet, I haven't seen any other bleached blonds in this dimension, and even if I had, I doubt I'd be seeing one *here*. Not one like this, anyway. Lithe, and sleek, and just... vibrating with what smells like anger... and desire? "Spike," I try again, and this time the word actually makes a sound.
* * * *
And somehow the mighty pouf's managed to find the girl who started all this. The one he wouldn't kill. The one he started a fight over, which fight led directly to the thing we're gonna have to talk about. I hate the little chit, I do, so "You," I order her, pointing back at the entry to this hollowed out hovel, "*Out*!"
Gotta give a hand to the blokes who run this place, because the girl's completely spiritless. She doesn't even say a word, just... leaves. And that's what I wanted, after all.
So I stalk across the bit of space, and fuck me if the ponce isn't looking at me like's he's seen a bloody ghost. I'm not a ghost, though, as I think he realizes when I kick him hard in the side of the head. Topples over like a great sodding tree, he does. A few more kicks-- chest, stomach, balls-- and I think he's ready to listen. He's not trying to speak, anyway, so... same thing.
"Look here, you sodding fuck-wad," I tell him, crouching down beside him, "You ever do that to me again, and I'll stake you myself." And he may be twitching in pain, and holding his privates like they're trying to run away, but he also looks like he's hearing me. "You lost control," I go on, "I get it, Angel. But if you *ever* fucking leave me again, you're*history*. Got that, mate?"
I guess he can tell that I'm serious, but if that creased caveman-brow of his is any indication, he's not sure of what I'm trying to say. Bloody prick of a wanker; how much clearer can I be?
So I pull back one arm, and my fist flies hard into his confused face. I smile when I feel his cheekbone crumple under the force. "You're my Sire," I say, meeting his eyes. "You don't get to leave me ever again. If you want me gone, just put a fucking stake in me. It would be kinder than leaving me alone. All right, pet?"
I just stare at him until he nods, then I lay down beside him on the soft furs, one arm wrapping around his ribs. I don't think he really gets it yet, but... the sodding fuck is *mine*.
* * * *
He... *Spike*...! What the *fuck*? He can't forgive me for what I did. It isn't possible. I treated him worse than I've ever treated *anyone*, and yet... He's laying here beside me, and he's holding on to me, and dear God! How can this *be*?
I thought... I don't know *what* I thought when he walked into this cave of Fred's, but... The kicks didn't surprise me nearly as much as the very fact of his presence. I guess I thought he was here to kill me. Then he hit me, and I deserved it, and so much more, but...
He's mad because I *left* him there? He doesn't want me to leave him? Ever again? And that's what I'm having trouble with, because... That would seem to imply that he wants to be with me, and how could he, after...
But he does, I guess, because that's the only way it makes sense that he's here beside me, one cool arm wrapped around me, blue eyes glittering a deep gray in the flickering firelight.
The pain in my groin finally fades enough that I can move, but I don't think I really want to. No, I want to just lay here, and revel in the smell of him, the feel of his graceful shape next to me. But I can't, apparently, because the words are out of my mouth before I even know I'm thinking them. "Why are you here, Spike?" I say, and God, I wish I didn't sound so cold. But I don't deserve to have him. Not even a little bit. Not anymore.
"You're mine," he says softly, head propped up on that hand that's *not* touching me. And I could almost swear I've died somehow, because...
"Why?" and I sound so... lost. But that's how I feel. Lost.
He shrugs just a bit, his fingers digging into my side. "'Cause you are. Won't let you leave me again, Sire," he tells me, and there's such a wealth of hope and fear in those words that I'm almost speechless, "Not even if that sodding prick of a *freak* comes out again."
Such brave words, but I can feel the shudders passing through him, and... whatever he may say, whatever he may be trying to convince himself of, I know that what's happened has scarred him. Maybe not where anyone can see it, but... there's a part of him that's afraid of what I became. That another, bigger part is more afraid of me leaving him for good just... stuns me. "I..." I begin, before the enormous lump in my throat stops me, and I have to swallow hard. "I'm sorry, Will." It's his sudden hiss of breath that tells me I haven't been clear enough. Well, that and the fact that he's pulling away, looking sadder than I've ever seen him. "No!" I cry, pulling him back to me, but gently. "I... I'm sorry about what hap... what I did to you. I'm so sorry..."
His sudden smile is dazzling, but not as much so as the brightly gleaming wickedness in his eyes. "No," he says, that smirk in his voice dancing along my spine, "You don't even know what sorry *means* yet, you sodding git. But you *will*." And with that, he lays back down, tight against my side.
I feel it when he finally falls asleep, and I honestly wish I could run from him again, because... I believe him. I can't leave, though. I just... can't. I can keep the demon locked up for him. I know I can. I have to, because... I can't leave him. Ever again. I won't.
End.