STIGMATA
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Angel(us)/Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,989
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Threesomes/Moresomes › Angel(us)/Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,989
Reviews:
7
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Chapter two
Title: STIGMATA
Pairings: later on: S/X, probable S/X/A(us)
Chapter: 2
Rating: R - ( NC17 later )
Warnings: DARK FIC, spoilers, religion abuse, expect anything really. Character death(s), torture, possible Non-con, angst, anything really.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, Josh unfortunately does.
My Yahoo group
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thecolourblood/
My LiveJournal
http://www.livejournal.com/users/vampiric_mcd/
Chapter 2
Spike takes a small drag from his cigarette as he watches the poof stretching himself. As usual, the blighter takes his own sweet time. Spike looks away, taking in the sights of the downtown district LA suburbs. Without even trying he can pick up on several homeless people that no one would miss the next morning. Well, no one that would be heard, that is. And all he truly feels is pity, disgust, anger.
It’s an odd concept really, for a vampire that is. People that dwell the streets, prey. They live their lives focused solely on survival. And they have no one to help them. No one that cares or really knows what happens when the sun has settled and the ‘law abiding’ citizens have sought out their little shelters away from the ugly humanity grasping at straws.
No one but two vampires and a handful of humans.
And even they have been corrupted to a point, how could they not be. They were in charge of the law firm that handled the main stream of ‘evil’ based on the continent, after all.
Spike took another drag and savoured it. He closed his eyes and let the smoke escape his lungs. He knew that Angel liked to kid himself that he wasn’t corrupted, that he wasn’t affected by the power handed to him.
Spike knew better, and he knew that deep down Angel knew it too.
Absolute power corrupting absolutely and all that rot.
He’s heard the theories about the law firm wanting to have Angelus in the driver’s seat, about how the distinction will make a difference in the ‘final’ battle.
He knows that Wesley and all the other pet humans his Sire has acquired have been grasping at straws themselves to fool themselves into a false sense of security. Wesley to a lesser extent, but still fooled nonetheless.
They’re wrong. He’s been fighting beside his Sire for five years now. Five years since he fell from a ceiling and had to be made corporeal again.
Five years since William ‘Spike’ The Bloody was restored to his menacing capacities. No soul, no chip, no ties but the one to his Sire. And yet, he’s stayed with the poof, and he’s fought beside him.
At first, Angel and his pet humans excelled at their ambiguous duties.
Save the world.
Damn it.
Balance.
But over time, Spike has seen them become harder, has seen them execute plans that would have gotten his arse staked if he suggested it in the beginning. The scales have been tipping over for quite some time now.
And they, for all their misguided intentions, have become –tainted-.
The sad part is that they still think they are saving the world. Sure, they have to sacrifice a few innocents here, let a few vampires roam there. They might even have to let loose a few dangerous demons near Cleveland and ‘loose’ worthwhile scrolls containing horrendous spells. But they are making a difference, or so they think.
Spike holds back a snort.
They don’t know how adept at evil they’ve become. They’re lost in their fantasies of a better world, using all the resources the firm has placed at their disposal. They’re so lost that they don’t recognise the devil in their midst anymore, no, they embrace him.
Angel.
Angel is a different case. He likes to delude himself that he’s not tainted and he likes to go about saving innocents in the middle of the night to keep those delusions firmly in place, but deep down Angel ~knows~.
Spike has seen the flashes of realization in his Sire’s eyes and Spike knows that Angel has come near breaking point.
Angel might be in the driver’s seat but in the final battle that won’t make a difference. Not really. Spike takes another drag as he contemplates his Sire.
Demons were tricky creatures really, and having a soul didn’t mean that the demon was contained. He knows from his own time as one of the soul bearing ponces, that it functioned as a leash, but he also knew that it wasn’t hard to let the leash slip.
All it took was one little tug.
Five years beside his Sire and he has seen more and more of Angelus’ mannerisms surface in that time. The soul has been secured to their knowledge, and it has given Angel’s pet humans a sense of having a safety net.
To Spike, it seems that the mazes in that net are of considerable proportions.
He can smell the blood in these dank alleyways, he can smell the sex and death and his demon cries out for it. Spike turns to look at Angel, as he throws the cigarette bud away.
Amber eyes regard him steadily.
He knows Angel smells it too.
Soon the leash will snap.
It won’t mean that Angel becomes Angelus, no, it will only mean that their integration has finished. Two entities that cannot exist without each other becoming one entity that is both soul and demon.
He can see the eagerness in the demon’s eyes. The will to taste the blood that has been spilled here for himself. The urge to hunt, to kill, to claim what is by nature rightfully his.
It’s part of why he stayed with his Sire. It’s very satisfying to see his Sire come nearer the line every day, yet still resist it. Spike can almost taste the fervour of finally being at the point where it doesn’t matter anymore.
Oh yes, when that leash snaps Spike will revel in the wake of it.
He knows this, has known it for five years. And yet, it hasn’t been all of what makes Spike stay here. It isn’t the all encompassing reason why Spike’s been playing at ‘Save the world’ and ‘Save the innocents’.
No.
He’s doing it, partly because of ‘before’.
Not because of his own soul, because he knows what a disaster that had been, no, because of ‘before’. The time when he was still chipped and couldn’t pinch a human without falling to his knees in agony.
The time when he was in the company of those few able to save the world when they put their minds to it, over and over again.
His time there learned him that humanity could produce a few gems here and there, that those few did make a difference and did make it worth it. Besides, even he didn’t want to see the world sucked into Hell, ruining his ‘restricted’ hunting fields. But the few he remembered, were the ones that drove him.
He can still hear Dawn squealing and smell Tara’s earthly scent. He remembers Giles’ ranting about his wheetabix, yet giving him a mug of blood. He remembers the ex demon and their bonding over their state of restriction. He remembers the red witch and her aura of power that thrummed through the air. He remembers the Slayer whose taste in men always clouded her judgement.
He remembers the boy.
The boy that hated him, fought with and beside him, befriended him and despised him.
Xander.
It’s been years since the mortal boy disappeared. Years since he finally understood what it was that had him so enamoured with Sunnydale. Years since Cordelia crashed to the floor when the fateful vision hit. Years since she ‘saw’ Dawn’s headstone and Xander slumped across it, followed by darkness.
They called and went to Sunnydale wanting to warn both Xander and Dawn, realising to their horror that Dawn was dead.
Realising that Xander missing.
Years of wondering and pleading and worrying, but nothing. Willy had known nothing, only that the night before Dawn had been buried, Xander had been patrolling the cemeteries enraged.
Tales of demons had that had run at the sight or the mention of him had been reported to them, only confirming that no sane demon would have had the nerve to go after Xander.
None knew what had happened and none cared, they were just happy to be left in relative peace now that the ‘Scoobies’ were gone.
They’d returned to LA, searching for spells to find the boy, to see if he was still alive.
The vision had to have been sent for a reason after all.
It had taken them months to finally begin to give up, months before both Angel and Spike relented their continuous search for the mortal boy.
Months before they admitted to themselves that the search was about more then finding the last remaining Scoobie.
It had taken Xander’s absence to make the two vampires admit that they craved the mortal boy.
A boy that had hated them, had loathed them.
And both vampires seemed to need him.
“So Peaches, ready to head back to Evil central then?”
Amber eyes met cerulean.
“Don’t call me that William.”
Spike laughs and lights up another cigarette.
Pairings: later on: S/X, probable S/X/A(us)
Chapter: 2
Rating: R - ( NC17 later )
Warnings: DARK FIC, spoilers, religion abuse, expect anything really. Character death(s), torture, possible Non-con, angst, anything really.
Disclaimer: I don't own them, Josh unfortunately does.
My Yahoo group
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/thecolourblood/
My LiveJournal
http://www.livejournal.com/users/vampiric_mcd/
Chapter 2
Spike takes a small drag from his cigarette as he watches the poof stretching himself. As usual, the blighter takes his own sweet time. Spike looks away, taking in the sights of the downtown district LA suburbs. Without even trying he can pick up on several homeless people that no one would miss the next morning. Well, no one that would be heard, that is. And all he truly feels is pity, disgust, anger.
It’s an odd concept really, for a vampire that is. People that dwell the streets, prey. They live their lives focused solely on survival. And they have no one to help them. No one that cares or really knows what happens when the sun has settled and the ‘law abiding’ citizens have sought out their little shelters away from the ugly humanity grasping at straws.
No one but two vampires and a handful of humans.
And even they have been corrupted to a point, how could they not be. They were in charge of the law firm that handled the main stream of ‘evil’ based on the continent, after all.
Spike took another drag and savoured it. He closed his eyes and let the smoke escape his lungs. He knew that Angel liked to kid himself that he wasn’t corrupted, that he wasn’t affected by the power handed to him.
Spike knew better, and he knew that deep down Angel knew it too.
Absolute power corrupting absolutely and all that rot.
He’s heard the theories about the law firm wanting to have Angelus in the driver’s seat, about how the distinction will make a difference in the ‘final’ battle.
He knows that Wesley and all the other pet humans his Sire has acquired have been grasping at straws themselves to fool themselves into a false sense of security. Wesley to a lesser extent, but still fooled nonetheless.
They’re wrong. He’s been fighting beside his Sire for five years now. Five years since he fell from a ceiling and had to be made corporeal again.
Five years since William ‘Spike’ The Bloody was restored to his menacing capacities. No soul, no chip, no ties but the one to his Sire. And yet, he’s stayed with the poof, and he’s fought beside him.
At first, Angel and his pet humans excelled at their ambiguous duties.
Save the world.
Damn it.
Balance.
But over time, Spike has seen them become harder, has seen them execute plans that would have gotten his arse staked if he suggested it in the beginning. The scales have been tipping over for quite some time now.
And they, for all their misguided intentions, have become –tainted-.
The sad part is that they still think they are saving the world. Sure, they have to sacrifice a few innocents here, let a few vampires roam there. They might even have to let loose a few dangerous demons near Cleveland and ‘loose’ worthwhile scrolls containing horrendous spells. But they are making a difference, or so they think.
Spike holds back a snort.
They don’t know how adept at evil they’ve become. They’re lost in their fantasies of a better world, using all the resources the firm has placed at their disposal. They’re so lost that they don’t recognise the devil in their midst anymore, no, they embrace him.
Angel.
Angel is a different case. He likes to delude himself that he’s not tainted and he likes to go about saving innocents in the middle of the night to keep those delusions firmly in place, but deep down Angel ~knows~.
Spike has seen the flashes of realization in his Sire’s eyes and Spike knows that Angel has come near breaking point.
Angel might be in the driver’s seat but in the final battle that won’t make a difference. Not really. Spike takes another drag as he contemplates his Sire.
Demons were tricky creatures really, and having a soul didn’t mean that the demon was contained. He knows from his own time as one of the soul bearing ponces, that it functioned as a leash, but he also knew that it wasn’t hard to let the leash slip.
All it took was one little tug.
Five years beside his Sire and he has seen more and more of Angelus’ mannerisms surface in that time. The soul has been secured to their knowledge, and it has given Angel’s pet humans a sense of having a safety net.
To Spike, it seems that the mazes in that net are of considerable proportions.
He can smell the blood in these dank alleyways, he can smell the sex and death and his demon cries out for it. Spike turns to look at Angel, as he throws the cigarette bud away.
Amber eyes regard him steadily.
He knows Angel smells it too.
Soon the leash will snap.
It won’t mean that Angel becomes Angelus, no, it will only mean that their integration has finished. Two entities that cannot exist without each other becoming one entity that is both soul and demon.
He can see the eagerness in the demon’s eyes. The will to taste the blood that has been spilled here for himself. The urge to hunt, to kill, to claim what is by nature rightfully his.
It’s part of why he stayed with his Sire. It’s very satisfying to see his Sire come nearer the line every day, yet still resist it. Spike can almost taste the fervour of finally being at the point where it doesn’t matter anymore.
Oh yes, when that leash snaps Spike will revel in the wake of it.
He knows this, has known it for five years. And yet, it hasn’t been all of what makes Spike stay here. It isn’t the all encompassing reason why Spike’s been playing at ‘Save the world’ and ‘Save the innocents’.
No.
He’s doing it, partly because of ‘before’.
Not because of his own soul, because he knows what a disaster that had been, no, because of ‘before’. The time when he was still chipped and couldn’t pinch a human without falling to his knees in agony.
The time when he was in the company of those few able to save the world when they put their minds to it, over and over again.
His time there learned him that humanity could produce a few gems here and there, that those few did make a difference and did make it worth it. Besides, even he didn’t want to see the world sucked into Hell, ruining his ‘restricted’ hunting fields. But the few he remembered, were the ones that drove him.
He can still hear Dawn squealing and smell Tara’s earthly scent. He remembers Giles’ ranting about his wheetabix, yet giving him a mug of blood. He remembers the ex demon and their bonding over their state of restriction. He remembers the red witch and her aura of power that thrummed through the air. He remembers the Slayer whose taste in men always clouded her judgement.
He remembers the boy.
The boy that hated him, fought with and beside him, befriended him and despised him.
Xander.
It’s been years since the mortal boy disappeared. Years since he finally understood what it was that had him so enamoured with Sunnydale. Years since Cordelia crashed to the floor when the fateful vision hit. Years since she ‘saw’ Dawn’s headstone and Xander slumped across it, followed by darkness.
They called and went to Sunnydale wanting to warn both Xander and Dawn, realising to their horror that Dawn was dead.
Realising that Xander missing.
Years of wondering and pleading and worrying, but nothing. Willy had known nothing, only that the night before Dawn had been buried, Xander had been patrolling the cemeteries enraged.
Tales of demons had that had run at the sight or the mention of him had been reported to them, only confirming that no sane demon would have had the nerve to go after Xander.
None knew what had happened and none cared, they were just happy to be left in relative peace now that the ‘Scoobies’ were gone.
They’d returned to LA, searching for spells to find the boy, to see if he was still alive.
The vision had to have been sent for a reason after all.
It had taken them months to finally begin to give up, months before both Angel and Spike relented their continuous search for the mortal boy.
Months before they admitted to themselves that the search was about more then finding the last remaining Scoobie.
It had taken Xander’s absence to make the two vampires admit that they craved the mortal boy.
A boy that had hated them, had loathed them.
And both vampires seemed to need him.
“So Peaches, ready to head back to Evil central then?”
Amber eyes met cerulean.
“Don’t call me that William.”
Spike laughs and lights up another cigarette.