Saving Spike

Spike lay in his cell, desperately trying to ignore the packet of drugged blood that had fallen from the ceiling. Spike guessed that he’d been in the cell for a least three days, if not more. It was hard to tell when your only light source was florescent lights which never turned off or dimmed.

After the first few hours of captivity, Spike was sure that the place he was in was not run by the Slayer or the Watcher Council. There had been a peaceful species of demon in the cell across from Spike… a demon which had been killed in a practically barbaric fashion by the soldiers who seemed to run the place. No Watcher would let his Slayer kill that kind of demon, they’d helped the Watcher’s Council many times in the past.

Spike looked up as three humans stopped in front of his cell. There were two men in army dress, one of which he recognized as the Slayer’s boy toy, the other he didn’t. The last human was a woman in a white lab coat who looked like something that smelled unpleasant was being held under her nose.

“Hostile 17.” The boy toy told the woman. “He’s been here five days, hasn’t touched the blood we’ve offered him.”

“Interesting…” the woman mused, looking at a clipboard and scribbling something down. “That must be something of a record.”

“He’ll get hungry.” The other soldier smirked. “They all get hungry.”

“Five days?” Spike laughed, and stood up, stalking over to the glass wall which separated him from the humans. “That’s nothing. Angelus once tied me up for three weeks, before I broke out.”

The humans stared at Spike, as if surprised he could speak, and the woman looked like she was about to say something when an alarm went off. The boy toy listened to something coming out of his ear bud and turned to the woman. “Break in, outer perimeter. Group of four detected. Two came up as Hostiles.”

“They’ll never get passed the perimeter.” The other soldier laughed and the woman nodded in agreement.

“We already have.”

Standing a few feet from the humans was Angel, and what appeared to be his LA gang. Spike recognized Wesely holding a shotgun, but didn’t know the names of the black guy with the axe or man who had spoken, who was Irish and had a crossbow.

The soldiers froze for one crucial moment, which was just long enough for Angel to knock them out and grab the woman, holding her as if he was going to bite her neck. Spike watched as Angel whispered to the woman. “Open the cell.” The woman shook her head and struggled, so Angel let his fangs come out. “Now.”

The woman stepped forward quickly and swiped a card through a device in the wall, opening the cell. Spike practically fell into Angel’s arms, and his sire caught him, as the woman ran away.

“Angel man,” the Irish man said, looking down at Spike, “let’s get out of here, the place is giving me the willies.”

As Angel picked him up and carried him away, Spike allowed himself to rest, the five days without blood or sleep had taken too great a toll on his body.

When spike woke, he was laying on Angel’s bed, on top of the covers. Standing slowly he looked around, surprised at how nice the place was. Art work, artifacts and weapons decorated the walls and the floors were covered in tasteful rugs. Slowly walking along, using the wall as a support, Spike came to the kitchen, where his sire was standing over the stove, heating up a pot of blood. Spike almost fell down in one of the chairs that was at the kitchen table, causing Angel to look up and make sure he was okay. Spike looked sheepishly up at Angel and coughed, clearing his throat. “I… I like your place.” He finally said.

“Thanks.” Angel smiled slightly and poured the blood into two mugs, placing one in front of Spike before sitting down to nurse his own. Spike slowly drank the blood, looking at his sire all the while.

“I’m sorry for the whole ring thing.” Spike sighed, running a hand through his hair.

“I’ve done worse.” Angel shrugged, taking the now empty mug from Spike and giving it a brief wash in the sink before going towards the ‘living room’ motioning for Spike to follow.

Angel sat down on the couch and Spike was about to sit on the chair across from him, but Angel pulled his childe down, so Spike was sitting on his lap. Spike was about to push away, but instead found himself crying, holding on to his sire, who pulled him closer. Spike nuzzled into Angel’s shoulder, never wanting to leave the safety of his sire’s arms.

After a few seconds Angel spoke. “I missed you…” he admitted, rubbing Spike’s back. “After the submarine.”

“Me too.” Spike whimpered, clutching at his sire. “When I saw you at School…when you offered me that kid---”

“I know.” Angel cut Spike off, hugging his childe to him.

“Do I…” Spike trialed off, trying to work up the courage to speak. “Do I have to leave?”

“No.” Angel shook his head. “You don’t have to…and I don’t want you to.

They stayed on the couch for what seemed like hours, simply holding each other and speaking of the past…touching on various subjects here and there… Spike yawned and Angel picked him up, carrying his childe to the bedroom and laying him down on the bed, shrugging off his leather coat before joining his childe.

“Sire…” Spike mumbled as Angel nuzzled his neck and pulled off his clothing.

“Been too long….” Angel murmured his agreement and slammed into his childe.

Vampires naturally like pain with their pleasure, so when Angel slammed in without preparation, Spike’s eyes simply rolled back in his head and he screamed, shifting into his demonic face.

The pace that Angel set and Spike begged for was fast and hard--- resembling rape more then anything to do with love. Spike was in heaven. His sire was claiming him, telling him he wasn’t alone anymore. With Dur Spike had been forced to assume a dominant role in the relationship, but in truth he was still William… still the submissive to Angel and he had secretly missed that all those long years.

Angel sank his fangs in Spike’s neck and offered his wrist to the younger vampire, who immediately accepted. Spike screamed around Angel’s wrist and came, dragging Angel along with him.

Afterwards Angel pulled his teeth from his childe’s neck, licking the bite marks, but he stayed buried inside his childe.

“Mine.” He whispered, wrapping his arms around Spike.

“Yours.” Spike agreed, finally feeling at home.

The End