Beauty and the Beast
folder
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,884
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Angel the Series › Slash - Male/Male › Angel(us)/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
4
Views:
3,884
Reviews:
5
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Beauty and the Beast
Title: Beauty and the Beast (A Plot Bunny from Deb) (1/4)
Author: Shara Nesu
Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. or http://www.livejournal.com/users/sharanesu/
Archived: Shara's place:
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, it all belongs to Joss etc. *sigh*
Spoilers: BtVS 2: School Hard. Set in Season 5 - few Spoilers though after Destiny.
Category/Pairings: Angel/Spike (off course)
Rating: NC17 Warning: Graphic M/M Sex. Vampire stuff (bondage & blood sport included)
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summary: Obsession controlled Angelus’ life and now it controls Angel. For centuries, he wanted to own and fantasized about one person - Spike. Angel never believed that he would ever possess Spike, but one day, after an accident while fighting some demons, Spike loses his memory. Will Angel tell the truth to Spike? Or will he lie?
Notes: Many, many thanks to my Beta - Helen *waves* And also to the wonderful Deb, who gave & inspired me with this plot bunny. *kiss*
The Beast - The Past.
Angel’s POV:
In the beginning...isn’t that how all stories start? In the beginning, or once upon a time, but then that would imply a fairy tale with a happy ending, so no, I’ll start with in the beginning. In the beginning there was a vampire named Angelus. He was a vampire who was feared the world over and not just by humans. Vampires feared Angelus. He was a monster in the purest sense of the word. Beautiful in face and body, but with a demon of pure evil within his heart and mind. Then one day a witch with the need for revenge cast on that cruel vampire the most damning of spells. She gave him a soul.
That’s the way it’s told, the story of Angelus. He was evil; he killed a fair, but dumb gypsy girl and was cursed with a soul. That wasn’t the whole truth though. So much is missing from that tale. The true reasons behind Angelus’ fall. Behind the creation of Angel and his need to run away from home and family. Why he came to America in the first place. Why he hid from the one person in the w who whom Angelus loved.
Yes, believe it or not, Angelus loved. But that love was an unrequited one. The beholder of his affections didn’t return his desire or love. No, the one Angelus loved despised him, and for that Angelus couldn’t allow the world to be unaffected by his anger. Angelus couldn’t have his beloved and therefore everyone suffered. It was only right. Only fitting in Angelus view. You see he was obsessed. Toy any and completely fixated by one fair boy. A boy named William.
Angelus had found the young poet William long before Drusilla ever set her eyes on him. Behind the back of both his women, Angelus would leave their home at dusk and keep to the shadows of a smoked filled London just to see his beloved. It started with following the young man. Following and staring at everything young William did. How he spoke. How he moved. How he did his hair. How his sweet cologne made Angelus heart swoon...well, it would if he had one. Soon it became utterly necessary for Angelus to see the boy every day. Not one day could go by without Angelus spying on William. Until that one fateful day when he didn‘t.
He’d drunk a little too much. Feasted on a little too much fine blood and for the first time he didn’t notice William walking down the street towards him. He didn’t see with his blurred vision the boy who bumped into him. He was laughing and dancing in the streets with Darla as Drusilla went on the hunt. He wasn’t there to find his pretty daughter sucking the fresh blood of his beloved William to the last drop and then replacing it with her own. It wasn’t until the next night, when the boy walked into Angelus‘ lair and asked ‘how it was going?’ did Angelus realise what had happened.
The sight of Drusilla and her young childe sent Angelus into a rage. A rage that would last another twenty years until the day he got his soul. A rage that was fuelled and heightened by the very fact that Angelus loved the boy and discovered that William despised him. To William, Angelus was nothing but an overbearing, belittling, and intolerant vampire. To William, Angelus was nothing but a source of information, a teacher whe nee needed it, an escape plan when they were in trouble. In fact, William never looked upon Angelus with a hint of desire or friendship. A fact that Angelus felt and saw in William’s face *every* single day.
Angelus became obsessed with his fascination of Spike, once known as William the Bloody. He was obsessed with his beauty. Fascinated by his lust for life. Drawn to his complete unwillingness to give in to anything or anyone. Angelus was in love with Spike. In love, but he could never tell his beloved. Maybe if Angelus hadn’t been the great master vampire he was, maybe then he could have told sweet William how he felt. But he never did. Angelus refused to be controlled by anyone. And absolutely refused to be influenced by love. No one told Angelus what to do. No one, not even Darla. Angelus would never give that power of control to his beloved and so he never told the sweet faced boy of his feelings.
In the fullness of time, love turned to rage. A rage that the world trembled at. Not only did Angelus blame the world for his inability to confess his love - he also bl Wil William. William who under the cruel influence of his grand-sire turned himself into the vicious Spike. Spike who suffered at the hands of Angelus just because that love was denied. Angelus beat him, tried to break him, wanted to smash his bones into a million loveless pieces. He’d beat the young vampire almost to the point of death just to watch the pretty red blood stain his face. Watch and wish that he could lean over Spike and lick that blood away. That he could wash away all the hurt and blood from Spike’s body, to giomfoomfort and love...but Angelus could never show those things. Never. Again and again Angelus would try and break Spike; again and again he failed. Spike grew stronger, but as he did, Angelus‘ obsession with him grew too.
Then came the gypsy’s devastating curse. Angelus killed a pretty gypsy girl. Why? Well, the gypsy girl had looked at his beloved and ed. ed. There was no other reason why Angelus tortured and killed her. It was just that one - she had looked at Spike and smiled. It had driven Angelus into a rage, a rage that he’d pay a terrible price for, and so he was cursed with a soul. Angelus became Angel - me.
I should say that is the end of Angelus’ story. Yet, I cannot. For the obsession with my beautiful Spike continued. It didn’t end with me becoming Angel. It only grew. For where Angelus had seen a vampire childe to be proud of for his viciousness - Angel - me - could only see a vampire who still held a touch of humanity in him. Yet, even when I returned to Darla and tried to fit into my family again, I still couldn’t reach him. Spike was beyond my touch. Spike became a Slayer killer and I believed that his humanity had died within him. It was with complete grief that I ran from my vampire family. Grief that Spike would never be mine. Even with a soul I couldn‘t confess my love. I believed that Spike was now fully demon and couldn’t ever love me. So I ran and ran until I came to the USA, and here I lived with my misery. Far from Spike, never to see him again and to exist for eternity without my beloved one.
Years past, decades even and still I never saw his pale face. I found comfort in the arms of another. A girl, a slayer named Buffy. She, like he had this great beauty and lust for life. She reminded me of my Spike sch tch that I thought I could live without him. That I could forget his face and never think about my beloved William again. But the fates weren’t that kind, because Spike came to Sunnydale. There, standing in the middle of a school, my arm wrapped around Xander Harris‘ throat, I faced my beloved Spike. I faced him and ran. I couldn’t confront him; I sus hes hell couldn’t fight and hurt him. I lied to Xander, hell I lied to everyone about Spike. I just couldn’t share or confess my obsession with any other soul.
My Spike had changed in appearance when I met him in Sunnydale, yet underneath the cropped, bleached blond hair, the black jeans and leather duster, he was still my Spike. That bright spark in his eyes, that wonderful intelligence, was still as clear and sharp as ever. He was still the Spike I’d always loved and obsessed about. He was mine, yet he never knew it. I would watch him, like I did in London. I would follow him around on his nightly kills. Watching the way the moonlight would highlight the sharp contours of his cheekbones. Moan just from the scent of him, a scent I hadn’t smelt in almost a hundred years, and yet with the first sniff those years tumbled away and it was like I had never left him. I burned with re are at the way Spike moved, which was with restrained power and grace. He was William, but now had a hard edge to him. He’d grown into the promise he had always shown. He had become a true master vampire. A master vampire with a touch of humanity.
Then just as I got used to watching and wanting Spike from a distance, Angelus returned. Once again, Angelus‘ rage of unrequited love and need sent him tumbling over the edge of sanity into madness. Angelus wanted Spike. He wanted him with every possessive and jealous bone in his body. He wanted to own him, break him, care for him, and protect him. He wanted to breathe him in, for them to blend together and become one being. He wanted to taste every inch of Spike’s skin and absorb him into the very pores of his b He He wanted Dru dead for spending the last hundred years with Spike. Angelus wanted Spike, and yet, all Spike gave him was betrayal. Spike despised him and made sure Angelus...well me, Angel went to hell.
Again, you might think this was the end of the story but it’s not. I returned from hell, my soul restored - on the edge of insanity and incomplete. Wanting nothing more than Spike’s touch, I was forced to settle for Buffy’s. Spike was gone, far away and I thought I’d never see him again. The pain of Buffy became too much, I didn’t want her. I wanted Spike and only Spike. So I left Sunnydale and Buffy behind. Intending to bury my sorrows, I moved to LA.
Time past and Spike returned. Oh, he was a whirlwind of fury and anger. So heart-stoppingly gorgeous in his fury to kill the Slayer. I had never been so proud, and so completely jealous that his attention wasn’t on me. Later, I became jealous of Buffy. I learned he’en cen chipped and controlled by the Initiative. I wanted to kill Riley Finn so much when I ran into him. To kill him for touching my Spike. Yet, I didn’t. I was Angel and Angel didn’t kill the good guys.
So once again I watched from a distance. Watching Spike survive his depression. Wanting him while he was seduced and bedded by Buffy. And finally, weeping for him as he died in the Hellmouth. My Spike was dead and there was nothing left for me to live for. Wolfram and Hart offered me a job and their company in LA, and I took it. I mean why not? Fighting good and evil meant nothing to me anymore. My shining star, my beloved Spike, was gone and the world could go to hell without him for all I cared.
Just as I believed the story to be truly over, Spike returned. Not corporeal at first, but I prayed and hoped and in time the gift of a body was given him. My Spike was home again, and for the first time I had hope that one day I could share my desire with him. For Spike was a vampire with a soul. Surely, he couldn’t refuse me now. Yet, he did. With the return of a corporeal body he found passion in the arms of Harmony, and later in the halls of an opera house we fought for the cup of truth. And truth he gave me. Truth that I was nothing to him. That he wanted a mortal body, with a mortal life to go with it more than me. I was nothing to him but an obstacle.
Nothing.
Well, fuck that.
~*~*~*~
Beauty - The Future.
Office of Angel, Wolfram & Hart LA - Monday morning:
Monday morning, another start to another long week. I still haven’t gotten over Spike beating me in the opera house. I can’t accept that he wanted a mortal life more than anything else. More than me. I was fooling myself about us becoming friends, becoming close with our forced comradeship. I had hoped that with Spike tied to me he would see my need and desire. He might be pretty, but he’s so dense sometimes. Which is why, this week, I’m going to force Spike to accept me.
He’s sitting across the room from me now, his head buried in a rock magazine. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t notice me. I’m just Angel - someone to hate and take his anger out on. He doesn’t want to see me as I see him.
I look across the room at the black clad legs, tight T-shirt and pale skin of his arms. His blond head is hidden behind the open pages of the magazine. I wonder if he’s chewing his lip as he reads. He always did that. When Spike found something that totally grabbed his attention, everything around him would fade and he’d focus on that one thing. In this case, it’s the article he’s reading. I wish he’d focus that concentration solely on me. I moan softly at just at the thought.
Suddenly, I remember an old fantasy that rises up from the back of my mind and burns though my veins. Oh yes, this is a well-known, well-used fantasy. A fantasy I’d use when I’m alone in my bed with only my right hand to keep me company. I concentrate on that fantasy now, feeling my dick rise and harden. I see myself as Angelus, hunting, running through halls and rooms looking for something. I’m wearing close fitting trousers with a soft silk shirt. The shirt is open and my chest is bare. It flaps around my form as I run. Just like my hair, which is long and flowing. Then I spot him. William leaning back on an old fashioned wrought iron bed. I lick my lips and slowly walk towards him. He’s naked. His thin and pale form spread over a blood red coverlet. I lick my lips and he gasps.
Poor William is human. A living, breathing human. He’s so warm that sweat slicks his chest, legs and arms. Moonlight floods though a large window making his skin shine. I moan and walk towards him, finally sliding onto the bed and kneeling beside him. William moans and arches his neck. I gasp and lean over him, my hands touching hot, slick skin. So slowly, so carefully do I sink my fangs into his pulsing throat. Hot skin on my lips. Hot blood in my mouth.
I want to suck him dry. I want to steal the light from his eyes. I want to leech away all his warmth. I want to swallow his life down with long heady draughts. I want to suck him dry and have him beg for more.
Then I’d lift his body, lifting him cool and frozen into my arms. I’d tear the skin at my throat and press his mouth to the open wound. Such a sweet mouth against my skin. Soft and fading fast. I’d hold him to me, whispering that he needs to drink. To drink me down. He would start to suck, sucking the life right out of me. Light would be replaced by darkness. Human soul devoured by a demon’s evil. I’d reach down as he sucks and take his flaccid cock into my hand. I’d stroke him and he’d moan against my throat. He’d be hard in just a few strokes, his hips pushing up for more. I’d slide my finger downwards and touch his tight hole.
William would spread his legs and I’d move between them. He wouldn’t lose his hold on my throat as I open my slacks and push my hard dick inside him. He’d be so tight, wet with blood, but his legs would wrap around my hips and he’d beg for more with each thrust. I’d be taking him, fucking his sweet ass. He’d be sucking, lapping the blood from my throat. I’d start to howl and...
“Hey Angel? Dfeatfeatures, you bloody listening?”
Spike’s crude words break the moment and the image of my perfect William disappears. I slowly look up from my desk, making sure my crotch is covered as I look him in the eye. Spike has this bemused look on his face as if he’s caught me doing something I shouldn’t. Which would be true in a sense.
“Well, didn’t you hear Wesley? You have a killer demon to hunt down.” Spike’s smiling even more and I realise that he’s wearing his long leather coat again, as I watch his graceful hand retrieve a cigarette from his inner pocket.
“Err...no...what did Wesley say?” When was Wesley here?
“On the intercom just now, you pushed the button to answer, Angel. You said you’d be right there.”
Damn! I can’t remember doing any of that. However, I can’t ask Spike and look foolish in front of him. So I grab at the next best thing. “We’d better go then, and you’re drive.” I throw Spike the keys, making it look like I know exactly what’s going on, even though I haven’t got a clue what Wesley said.
Spike gives me a blank look and then looks at the keys in his hand. His face slowly breaks into a smile, which leads to a wicked grin. I don’t think I should have done that.
“Okay mate, if you want me to drive!” He runs towards the open lift and jumps in.
Maybe giving him the keys to my car wasn’t such a good idea.
Two hours later:
Fighting Kleynach demons and watching Spike’s ass is not a good idea. I can’t help but be distracted by him. He fights with such flare and stamina. He’s the centre of attention in everything he does. Which also means he attracts trouble like a magnet. The demons are drawn to him and in the end I’m fighting the stragglers while he’s trying to combat the big mean ones. Suddenly however, he screams out and his body flies through the air. He lets out a high pitched scream until he hits the far wall of the Kleynach’s warehouse and crumples to the ground, unconscious. I howl in fury, the demons startled by my sudden attack and I manage to finish the pack off in moments. Think they can mess with *my* boy, do they?
When the last demon lies dead in a pool of it’s own blue blood, I run over to my injured teammate. I check over his body and at first find no damage, but then I carefully lift his head and feel his wet blood cover my hand. The crack at the back of his skull is deep and would have been fatal were he human. Even with vampiric healing skills it’s going to take a few hours for him to heal. So very slowly, I slide my arms under his slack body and lift him up, pressing his broken head to my chest. He mumbles softly but doesn’t wake.
Deeper inside the warehouse there are a few old looking mattresses and with them a source of water. An old pipe main has been broken and water rises from the concrete floor like a small fountain. I lie Spin onn one of the cleaner mattress and tearing the sheet into pieces, go and dampen a cloth for him. There’s blood on his face, oozing from small scratches made by the demon’s nails. Very carefully, I start to wash his face with the cloth, cleaning away the dirt and blood from the fight. I can’t help but stroke his high cheekbones with my fingers when I’ve finished. His skin is like fine silk and so light against my darker shade of colouring. I soothe his hair back, feeling the soft strands under my fingers. His hair curls around my fingers in gentle waves as I card them through it. The gel dissipates with the use of a little more water, leaving dark blond hair to curl around his head like a halo.
I move down to his throat, and rip the shredded T-shirt at the neck, opening it wide so I can see his chest. I clean away the dirt and blood from more scratches, leaving his skin smooth and clean. I marvel at the hard flesh beneath my fingers. Hard with muscle and vampiric strength. His chest is hairless, with only a little fluff under his belly button leading to forbidden treasures below. I stroke up one side, feeling each defined rib under my touch until I finally reach his throat. Oh yes, his throat. Strong and pale. Bones standing out with blue veins visible under his pale flesh. I moan softly and press my face into the hollow at the centre. I lick it soothingly, moving a little to left and right, lappiver ver the collarbones and then back to the centre. He tastes so good under my tongue. Hot and spicy, while at the same time his skin is cool and clean. Slowly, I move down lapping over his diaphragm and then further down towards his soft belly. I lick over his navel, pushing my tongue in to taste his sweetness. I flick it in and out, mimicking sex and longing to really take him. Wishing it was that tiny hole further down where I could shovetongtongue and dick deep inside him. I groan softly, wanting more.
“What?” A startled sound makes me look up into wide blue eyes. They are slightly out of focus and he groans loudly before closing them again. “What on earth hit me?” His head drops back onto the mattress and he moans gently as tapered fingers search around his head. He yelps as he makes contact with the healing head wound. “Who hit me?”
I quickly sit back, hoping that he hadn’t really taken in what I’d been doing. “One of the demons knocked you against the wall,” I reply in a gentle voice. I don’t want to be gentle though. I want to ravage him. Kiss him stupid. My relief that he’s awakened cannot be shown however, and I bury the feelings deep within me. “The wound was deep, but should heal soon.”
“Good,” he moans, “I feel as though a truck hit me.” His eyes remain closed. “Though, I’d wish you’d go back to licking me, it felt so good.”
Licking him! He felt it? I’m staring wide eyed at him and my mouth opens uselessly. My lips move to form words but I don’t say anything.
“Maybe you’d just hold me?” Spike whispers.
I don’t know why, but I crawl onto the mattress beside Spike and take him into my arms. He sighs softly, pressing his head into the crook of my shoulder.
“Wake me when the man with the jackhammer has gone,” he mumbles into my neck and falls asleep.
For a long time I just lie there with Spike’s body curled with mine. His slim form fitting into my chest, with one leg unconsciously moving upwards to rest between my own. I revel in the touch. The feel of him touching me. Resting against me. Pressing his body to mine. I wish with every inch of my being that we were naked, for then it would be his pure pale flesh that would be pressed to mine. I sigh, trying to gain control of my desire and just hold him. My body is hard and wanting. My solid cock straining in my pants - wishing to press against the one being I desire above all others. I want him. Even in his weakened state I want to fuck him.
I groan, closing my eyes, knowing I can’t give in to this desire, and I try to sleep.
TBC
Author: Shara Nesu
Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. or http://www.livejournal.com/users/sharanesu/
Archived: Shara's place:
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone, it all belongs to Joss etc. *sigh*
Spoilers: BtVS 2: School Hard. Set in Season 5 - few Spoilers though after Destiny.
Category/Pairings: Angel/Spike (off course)
Rating: NC17 Warning: Graphic M/M Sex. Vampire stuff (bondage & blood sport included)
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summary: Obsession controlled Angelus’ life and now it controls Angel. For centuries, he wanted to own and fantasized about one person - Spike. Angel never believed that he would ever possess Spike, but one day, after an accident while fighting some demons, Spike loses his memory. Will Angel tell the truth to Spike? Or will he lie?
Notes: Many, many thanks to my Beta - Helen *waves* And also to the wonderful Deb, who gave & inspired me with this plot bunny. *kiss*
The Beast - The Past.
Angel’s POV:
In the beginning...isn’t that how all stories start? In the beginning, or once upon a time, but then that would imply a fairy tale with a happy ending, so no, I’ll start with in the beginning. In the beginning there was a vampire named Angelus. He was a vampire who was feared the world over and not just by humans. Vampires feared Angelus. He was a monster in the purest sense of the word. Beautiful in face and body, but with a demon of pure evil within his heart and mind. Then one day a witch with the need for revenge cast on that cruel vampire the most damning of spells. She gave him a soul.
That’s the way it’s told, the story of Angelus. He was evil; he killed a fair, but dumb gypsy girl and was cursed with a soul. That wasn’t the whole truth though. So much is missing from that tale. The true reasons behind Angelus’ fall. Behind the creation of Angel and his need to run away from home and family. Why he came to America in the first place. Why he hid from the one person in the w who whom Angelus loved.
Yes, believe it or not, Angelus loved. But that love was an unrequited one. The beholder of his affections didn’t return his desire or love. No, the one Angelus loved despised him, and for that Angelus couldn’t allow the world to be unaffected by his anger. Angelus couldn’t have his beloved and therefore everyone suffered. It was only right. Only fitting in Angelus view. You see he was obsessed. Toy any and completely fixated by one fair boy. A boy named William.
Angelus had found the young poet William long before Drusilla ever set her eyes on him. Behind the back of both his women, Angelus would leave their home at dusk and keep to the shadows of a smoked filled London just to see his beloved. It started with following the young man. Following and staring at everything young William did. How he spoke. How he moved. How he did his hair. How his sweet cologne made Angelus heart swoon...well, it would if he had one. Soon it became utterly necessary for Angelus to see the boy every day. Not one day could go by without Angelus spying on William. Until that one fateful day when he didn‘t.
He’d drunk a little too much. Feasted on a little too much fine blood and for the first time he didn’t notice William walking down the street towards him. He didn’t see with his blurred vision the boy who bumped into him. He was laughing and dancing in the streets with Darla as Drusilla went on the hunt. He wasn’t there to find his pretty daughter sucking the fresh blood of his beloved William to the last drop and then replacing it with her own. It wasn’t until the next night, when the boy walked into Angelus‘ lair and asked ‘how it was going?’ did Angelus realise what had happened.
The sight of Drusilla and her young childe sent Angelus into a rage. A rage that would last another twenty years until the day he got his soul. A rage that was fuelled and heightened by the very fact that Angelus loved the boy and discovered that William despised him. To William, Angelus was nothing but an overbearing, belittling, and intolerant vampire. To William, Angelus was nothing but a source of information, a teacher whe nee needed it, an escape plan when they were in trouble. In fact, William never looked upon Angelus with a hint of desire or friendship. A fact that Angelus felt and saw in William’s face *every* single day.
Angelus became obsessed with his fascination of Spike, once known as William the Bloody. He was obsessed with his beauty. Fascinated by his lust for life. Drawn to his complete unwillingness to give in to anything or anyone. Angelus was in love with Spike. In love, but he could never tell his beloved. Maybe if Angelus hadn’t been the great master vampire he was, maybe then he could have told sweet William how he felt. But he never did. Angelus refused to be controlled by anyone. And absolutely refused to be influenced by love. No one told Angelus what to do. No one, not even Darla. Angelus would never give that power of control to his beloved and so he never told the sweet faced boy of his feelings.
In the fullness of time, love turned to rage. A rage that the world trembled at. Not only did Angelus blame the world for his inability to confess his love - he also bl Wil William. William who under the cruel influence of his grand-sire turned himself into the vicious Spike. Spike who suffered at the hands of Angelus just because that love was denied. Angelus beat him, tried to break him, wanted to smash his bones into a million loveless pieces. He’d beat the young vampire almost to the point of death just to watch the pretty red blood stain his face. Watch and wish that he could lean over Spike and lick that blood away. That he could wash away all the hurt and blood from Spike’s body, to giomfoomfort and love...but Angelus could never show those things. Never. Again and again Angelus would try and break Spike; again and again he failed. Spike grew stronger, but as he did, Angelus‘ obsession with him grew too.
Then came the gypsy’s devastating curse. Angelus killed a pretty gypsy girl. Why? Well, the gypsy girl had looked at his beloved and ed. ed. There was no other reason why Angelus tortured and killed her. It was just that one - she had looked at Spike and smiled. It had driven Angelus into a rage, a rage that he’d pay a terrible price for, and so he was cursed with a soul. Angelus became Angel - me.
I should say that is the end of Angelus’ story. Yet, I cannot. For the obsession with my beautiful Spike continued. It didn’t end with me becoming Angel. It only grew. For where Angelus had seen a vampire childe to be proud of for his viciousness - Angel - me - could only see a vampire who still held a touch of humanity in him. Yet, even when I returned to Darla and tried to fit into my family again, I still couldn’t reach him. Spike was beyond my touch. Spike became a Slayer killer and I believed that his humanity had died within him. It was with complete grief that I ran from my vampire family. Grief that Spike would never be mine. Even with a soul I couldn‘t confess my love. I believed that Spike was now fully demon and couldn’t ever love me. So I ran and ran until I came to the USA, and here I lived with my misery. Far from Spike, never to see him again and to exist for eternity without my beloved one.
Years past, decades even and still I never saw his pale face. I found comfort in the arms of another. A girl, a slayer named Buffy. She, like he had this great beauty and lust for life. She reminded me of my Spike sch tch that I thought I could live without him. That I could forget his face and never think about my beloved William again. But the fates weren’t that kind, because Spike came to Sunnydale. There, standing in the middle of a school, my arm wrapped around Xander Harris‘ throat, I faced my beloved Spike. I faced him and ran. I couldn’t confront him; I sus hes hell couldn’t fight and hurt him. I lied to Xander, hell I lied to everyone about Spike. I just couldn’t share or confess my obsession with any other soul.
My Spike had changed in appearance when I met him in Sunnydale, yet underneath the cropped, bleached blond hair, the black jeans and leather duster, he was still my Spike. That bright spark in his eyes, that wonderful intelligence, was still as clear and sharp as ever. He was still the Spike I’d always loved and obsessed about. He was mine, yet he never knew it. I would watch him, like I did in London. I would follow him around on his nightly kills. Watching the way the moonlight would highlight the sharp contours of his cheekbones. Moan just from the scent of him, a scent I hadn’t smelt in almost a hundred years, and yet with the first sniff those years tumbled away and it was like I had never left him. I burned with re are at the way Spike moved, which was with restrained power and grace. He was William, but now had a hard edge to him. He’d grown into the promise he had always shown. He had become a true master vampire. A master vampire with a touch of humanity.
Then just as I got used to watching and wanting Spike from a distance, Angelus returned. Once again, Angelus‘ rage of unrequited love and need sent him tumbling over the edge of sanity into madness. Angelus wanted Spike. He wanted him with every possessive and jealous bone in his body. He wanted to own him, break him, care for him, and protect him. He wanted to breathe him in, for them to blend together and become one being. He wanted to taste every inch of Spike’s skin and absorb him into the very pores of his b He He wanted Dru dead for spending the last hundred years with Spike. Angelus wanted Spike, and yet, all Spike gave him was betrayal. Spike despised him and made sure Angelus...well me, Angel went to hell.
Again, you might think this was the end of the story but it’s not. I returned from hell, my soul restored - on the edge of insanity and incomplete. Wanting nothing more than Spike’s touch, I was forced to settle for Buffy’s. Spike was gone, far away and I thought I’d never see him again. The pain of Buffy became too much, I didn’t want her. I wanted Spike and only Spike. So I left Sunnydale and Buffy behind. Intending to bury my sorrows, I moved to LA.
Time past and Spike returned. Oh, he was a whirlwind of fury and anger. So heart-stoppingly gorgeous in his fury to kill the Slayer. I had never been so proud, and so completely jealous that his attention wasn’t on me. Later, I became jealous of Buffy. I learned he’en cen chipped and controlled by the Initiative. I wanted to kill Riley Finn so much when I ran into him. To kill him for touching my Spike. Yet, I didn’t. I was Angel and Angel didn’t kill the good guys.
So once again I watched from a distance. Watching Spike survive his depression. Wanting him while he was seduced and bedded by Buffy. And finally, weeping for him as he died in the Hellmouth. My Spike was dead and there was nothing left for me to live for. Wolfram and Hart offered me a job and their company in LA, and I took it. I mean why not? Fighting good and evil meant nothing to me anymore. My shining star, my beloved Spike, was gone and the world could go to hell without him for all I cared.
Just as I believed the story to be truly over, Spike returned. Not corporeal at first, but I prayed and hoped and in time the gift of a body was given him. My Spike was home again, and for the first time I had hope that one day I could share my desire with him. For Spike was a vampire with a soul. Surely, he couldn’t refuse me now. Yet, he did. With the return of a corporeal body he found passion in the arms of Harmony, and later in the halls of an opera house we fought for the cup of truth. And truth he gave me. Truth that I was nothing to him. That he wanted a mortal body, with a mortal life to go with it more than me. I was nothing to him but an obstacle.
Nothing.
Well, fuck that.
~*~*~*~
Beauty - The Future.
Office of Angel, Wolfram & Hart LA - Monday morning:
Monday morning, another start to another long week. I still haven’t gotten over Spike beating me in the opera house. I can’t accept that he wanted a mortal life more than anything else. More than me. I was fooling myself about us becoming friends, becoming close with our forced comradeship. I had hoped that with Spike tied to me he would see my need and desire. He might be pretty, but he’s so dense sometimes. Which is why, this week, I’m going to force Spike to accept me.
He’s sitting across the room from me now, his head buried in a rock magazine. He doesn’t see me. He doesn’t notice me. I’m just Angel - someone to hate and take his anger out on. He doesn’t want to see me as I see him.
I look across the room at the black clad legs, tight T-shirt and pale skin of his arms. His blond head is hidden behind the open pages of the magazine. I wonder if he’s chewing his lip as he reads. He always did that. When Spike found something that totally grabbed his attention, everything around him would fade and he’d focus on that one thing. In this case, it’s the article he’s reading. I wish he’d focus that concentration solely on me. I moan softly at just at the thought.
Suddenly, I remember an old fantasy that rises up from the back of my mind and burns though my veins. Oh yes, this is a well-known, well-used fantasy. A fantasy I’d use when I’m alone in my bed with only my right hand to keep me company. I concentrate on that fantasy now, feeling my dick rise and harden. I see myself as Angelus, hunting, running through halls and rooms looking for something. I’m wearing close fitting trousers with a soft silk shirt. The shirt is open and my chest is bare. It flaps around my form as I run. Just like my hair, which is long and flowing. Then I spot him. William leaning back on an old fashioned wrought iron bed. I lick my lips and slowly walk towards him. He’s naked. His thin and pale form spread over a blood red coverlet. I lick my lips and he gasps.
Poor William is human. A living, breathing human. He’s so warm that sweat slicks his chest, legs and arms. Moonlight floods though a large window making his skin shine. I moan and walk towards him, finally sliding onto the bed and kneeling beside him. William moans and arches his neck. I gasp and lean over him, my hands touching hot, slick skin. So slowly, so carefully do I sink my fangs into his pulsing throat. Hot skin on my lips. Hot blood in my mouth.
I want to suck him dry. I want to steal the light from his eyes. I want to leech away all his warmth. I want to swallow his life down with long heady draughts. I want to suck him dry and have him beg for more.
Then I’d lift his body, lifting him cool and frozen into my arms. I’d tear the skin at my throat and press his mouth to the open wound. Such a sweet mouth against my skin. Soft and fading fast. I’d hold him to me, whispering that he needs to drink. To drink me down. He would start to suck, sucking the life right out of me. Light would be replaced by darkness. Human soul devoured by a demon’s evil. I’d reach down as he sucks and take his flaccid cock into my hand. I’d stroke him and he’d moan against my throat. He’d be hard in just a few strokes, his hips pushing up for more. I’d slide my finger downwards and touch his tight hole.
William would spread his legs and I’d move between them. He wouldn’t lose his hold on my throat as I open my slacks and push my hard dick inside him. He’d be so tight, wet with blood, but his legs would wrap around my hips and he’d beg for more with each thrust. I’d be taking him, fucking his sweet ass. He’d be sucking, lapping the blood from my throat. I’d start to howl and...
“Hey Angel? Dfeatfeatures, you bloody listening?”
Spike’s crude words break the moment and the image of my perfect William disappears. I slowly look up from my desk, making sure my crotch is covered as I look him in the eye. Spike has this bemused look on his face as if he’s caught me doing something I shouldn’t. Which would be true in a sense.
“Well, didn’t you hear Wesley? You have a killer demon to hunt down.” Spike’s smiling even more and I realise that he’s wearing his long leather coat again, as I watch his graceful hand retrieve a cigarette from his inner pocket.
“Err...no...what did Wesley say?” When was Wesley here?
“On the intercom just now, you pushed the button to answer, Angel. You said you’d be right there.”
Damn! I can’t remember doing any of that. However, I can’t ask Spike and look foolish in front of him. So I grab at the next best thing. “We’d better go then, and you’re drive.” I throw Spike the keys, making it look like I know exactly what’s going on, even though I haven’t got a clue what Wesley said.
Spike gives me a blank look and then looks at the keys in his hand. His face slowly breaks into a smile, which leads to a wicked grin. I don’t think I should have done that.
“Okay mate, if you want me to drive!” He runs towards the open lift and jumps in.
Maybe giving him the keys to my car wasn’t such a good idea.
Two hours later:
Fighting Kleynach demons and watching Spike’s ass is not a good idea. I can’t help but be distracted by him. He fights with such flare and stamina. He’s the centre of attention in everything he does. Which also means he attracts trouble like a magnet. The demons are drawn to him and in the end I’m fighting the stragglers while he’s trying to combat the big mean ones. Suddenly however, he screams out and his body flies through the air. He lets out a high pitched scream until he hits the far wall of the Kleynach’s warehouse and crumples to the ground, unconscious. I howl in fury, the demons startled by my sudden attack and I manage to finish the pack off in moments. Think they can mess with *my* boy, do they?
When the last demon lies dead in a pool of it’s own blue blood, I run over to my injured teammate. I check over his body and at first find no damage, but then I carefully lift his head and feel his wet blood cover my hand. The crack at the back of his skull is deep and would have been fatal were he human. Even with vampiric healing skills it’s going to take a few hours for him to heal. So very slowly, I slide my arms under his slack body and lift him up, pressing his broken head to my chest. He mumbles softly but doesn’t wake.
Deeper inside the warehouse there are a few old looking mattresses and with them a source of water. An old pipe main has been broken and water rises from the concrete floor like a small fountain. I lie Spin onn one of the cleaner mattress and tearing the sheet into pieces, go and dampen a cloth for him. There’s blood on his face, oozing from small scratches made by the demon’s nails. Very carefully, I start to wash his face with the cloth, cleaning away the dirt and blood from the fight. I can’t help but stroke his high cheekbones with my fingers when I’ve finished. His skin is like fine silk and so light against my darker shade of colouring. I soothe his hair back, feeling the soft strands under my fingers. His hair curls around my fingers in gentle waves as I card them through it. The gel dissipates with the use of a little more water, leaving dark blond hair to curl around his head like a halo.
I move down to his throat, and rip the shredded T-shirt at the neck, opening it wide so I can see his chest. I clean away the dirt and blood from more scratches, leaving his skin smooth and clean. I marvel at the hard flesh beneath my fingers. Hard with muscle and vampiric strength. His chest is hairless, with only a little fluff under his belly button leading to forbidden treasures below. I stroke up one side, feeling each defined rib under my touch until I finally reach his throat. Oh yes, his throat. Strong and pale. Bones standing out with blue veins visible under his pale flesh. I moan softly and press my face into the hollow at the centre. I lick it soothingly, moving a little to left and right, lappiver ver the collarbones and then back to the centre. He tastes so good under my tongue. Hot and spicy, while at the same time his skin is cool and clean. Slowly, I move down lapping over his diaphragm and then further down towards his soft belly. I lick over his navel, pushing my tongue in to taste his sweetness. I flick it in and out, mimicking sex and longing to really take him. Wishing it was that tiny hole further down where I could shovetongtongue and dick deep inside him. I groan softly, wanting more.
“What?” A startled sound makes me look up into wide blue eyes. They are slightly out of focus and he groans loudly before closing them again. “What on earth hit me?” His head drops back onto the mattress and he moans gently as tapered fingers search around his head. He yelps as he makes contact with the healing head wound. “Who hit me?”
I quickly sit back, hoping that he hadn’t really taken in what I’d been doing. “One of the demons knocked you against the wall,” I reply in a gentle voice. I don’t want to be gentle though. I want to ravage him. Kiss him stupid. My relief that he’s awakened cannot be shown however, and I bury the feelings deep within me. “The wound was deep, but should heal soon.”
“Good,” he moans, “I feel as though a truck hit me.” His eyes remain closed. “Though, I’d wish you’d go back to licking me, it felt so good.”
Licking him! He felt it? I’m staring wide eyed at him and my mouth opens uselessly. My lips move to form words but I don’t say anything.
“Maybe you’d just hold me?” Spike whispers.
I don’t know why, but I crawl onto the mattress beside Spike and take him into my arms. He sighs softly, pressing his head into the crook of my shoulder.
“Wake me when the man with the jackhammer has gone,” he mumbles into my neck and falls asleep.
For a long time I just lie there with Spike’s body curled with mine. His slim form fitting into my chest, with one leg unconsciously moving upwards to rest between my own. I revel in the touch. The feel of him touching me. Resting against me. Pressing his body to mine. I wish with every inch of my being that we were naked, for then it would be his pure pale flesh that would be pressed to mine. I sigh, trying to gain control of my desire and just hold him. My body is hard and wanting. My solid cock straining in my pants - wishing to press against the one being I desire above all others. I want him. Even in his weakened state I want to fuck him.
I groan, closing my eyes, knowing I can’t give in to this desire, and I try to sleep.
TBC