Angel (noirangel) wrote in madisonvalley, @ 2014-06-11 07:23:00 |
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Angel was restless. That was an understatement. He felt almost like there was a current running through him, as though a storm was approaching or someone was summoning up a great deal of power. He’d been worried at first that that was what it was, and some huge danger was coming, but climbing up onto his roof revealed to him a quietly sleeping town, unburdened by the influence of an overzealous warlock or an over-the-top electrical engineer. A town at peace. A quietly sleeping town that had one vampire on a rooftop in the city centre, driving himself mad with pacing because he had no idea what was wrong. The really infuriating part of it was that he was exhausted and whatever this was felt familiar in a way. Sometimes he’d stop, sit down, close his eyes, and he’d convince himself he was asleep. Maybe he was. But then his eyes would shoot open suddenly and there were images in his mind, an inexplicable sensation tingling up his spine, or a sharp pang of hunger would hit him and he’d just leap up again and start moving to distract himself. He didn’t know what this was, but he was pretty sure he didn’t like it. Sometimes the images would linger in his consciousness long enough for him to grasp and remember. When he managed to make out what it was he was seeing, what he was feeling, he liked it even less. Spike. It was Spike. He could see him. What was this? Angel wasn’t completely dense. He was very aware of the bond he shared with those in his line. It just didn’t usually make itself known unless…Well, there had been that time with Penn. But Angel knew with every part of his soul that Spike had not turned, so that wasn’t what this was. He didn’t know what this was. Part of him wanted to jump down, run along the rooftops, and head for Spike’s place just to make sure that the blond vampire was okay. He resisted the urge just barely, and instead set himself down again, laying perfectly still and hoping to Hell that he could focus long enough to meditate. *** Despite the fact that Apollo giving Spike the ability to walk in the sun allowed him to not worry about burning to a crisp, it didn't keep Spike from sticking to his usual nocturnal hours. The way he saw it, this whole thing was something he should use only if it was an actual emergency. Which only served to remind him that giving Angel back his sketchbook had most definitely not been an emergency, God, and there he was again. Thinking about Angel. And his stupid bloody sketchbook, and that prick and his declarations about caring about Spike and how he wanted them to get along -- none of it made sense with the world Spike knew. It was ridiculous. Especially when Spike took into account just how tumultuous a relationship they'd actually had over the past century, and especially during those two decades in Europe. Spike was almost sure he hadn't thought about Angel so often back in Sunnydale. At least not in such an obvious non-Buffy-related sort of way. So what the hell was this, and how did he get himself to stop doing it? Rolling his eyes at himself, Spike pulled his shirt over head and tossed it haphazardly, not giving where it landed a second look. His jeans followed suit and within minutes, he was sliding into bed. Sleep didn't come automatically. Instead, Spike found himself starting at the ceiling in the dark of his room, trying to make sense of… well, everything. Maybe Angel was just destined to not make any kind of sense to Spike. Especially now. That sounded about par for course, as far as Spike was concerned. That was the last concrete thought Spike had before eventually slipping into sleep. |
*** At least they had gardens. Angelus wasn't well pleased by the turn of events that had brought them to Rome this time. He never liked uprooting when he hadn't planned for it, carefully and deliberately, but ever since William had joined them, it seemed they were becoming almost nomadic. It was getting absurd, his carelessness. It was about time for another lesson and fortunately, his Sire had left him just what he needed. His dark eyes intent on the young vampire, he tore into his prey -- Don Rodolfo something or other, whose intent had been to sell this property though he and Darla had convinced the fool otherwise -- with the relish he usually reserved for more targeted kills. He was seething and allowing the blood to fill him, to fuel his temper. Darla had taken Drusilla out to 'shop' for new clothes or trinkets or whatever else struck their fancy, he hadn't really cared, so he and the whelp were, for the moment, alone. He let the body slide from his grasp, emptied and cold now, his own almost warm from the feeding. "So, boy," he said, stepping around the corpse with relaxed grace as his features shifted back. His accented tones were deceptively soft. "Have you given any thought to your shortcomings, of late?" *** Spike's outlook on things tended to be pretty simple: sod rules. Maybe it was the fact that five years ago, when he'd still been human, rules were something he'd always tried to follow to the letter in his day to day life. And what had trying to be a good man gotten him, other than heartbroken and made into a vampire? Not that he minded the last part, and if he'd been able to find Cecily, Spike would have found someway to repay her for the blow she'd struck him. As it was, Spike confined his need for violence and destruction in ways that tended to royally piss off the citizens of wherever they were, and that usually brought on mobs. But Spike didn't care. Bring on the mobs; Spike could use a few kills. It was almost amazing how the sound a snapping neck made could calm him down. But Angelus would rather hide out from the mobs and move on. And always got pissy that the fancy place he'd chosen was no longer somewhere they could stay. Like now. Spike personally didn't see the big deal and that opinion showed in his face even as Angelus stepped around the corpse of the man he'd just drained. He didn't care if he'd only been around for five years and Angelus had at least a good century on him. Being called a boy bristled. "You know, I almost thought about it for about five seconds there. Didn't take." Spike shrugged then because he didn't take Angelus seriously. How was he supposed to when, for a vampire that wanted to stay inconspicuous, the homes he picked practically screamed notice me! *** That earned him a smack with his backhand. Which, truth be told, Angelus was more than happy to indulge in. He hadn't exactly been living restrained around the boy, but the physical beatings had given way to twisting and playing with his head more often than not, particularly with Dru around. Enraged as he was, although he remained coolly controlled, he wouldn't waste this opportunity. The adornments he wore on his hand dug into flesh satisfyingly, drawing blood with another blow. And another. He stopped the assault when he grabbed William by the shoulders and shoved him roughly into the wall. "It's about time you learned some manners. Learned your place. I can't have you flitting about like a wild thing -- you'll get us all killed." *** He'd pretty much expected the retaliation from the moment that the words were out of his mouth. Even with that knowledge, though, it hurt. Which should have been a given. Though Spike rarely likely to admit it, Angelus was definitely stronger. Not that he typically gave a shit about that. Age, or the fact that Angelus liked to think himself in charge, didn't mean a bloody thing. Spike tended to react on instinct whether that was telling the older vampire off (or "being insolent" as he tried to claim) or attacking him physically. It rarely mattered that Spike would get his ass handed to him in the end. When Angelus slammed Spike against the wall, it was a familiar sensation and like every other time, Spike just barely resisted the urge to laugh in his face. Angelus loved to trot around the fact that he owned Dru, to rub it into the open wound that was knowing the love of his life would drop him in a second if Daddy called, so Spike had to use moments like this to his advantage. "Please. Teach me all about my place. I'm dying to know." *** Angelus laughed at that answer, completely unperturbed by the whelp's defiance. It amused him, how determined he seemed to prove his worth. Angelus enjoyed this -- enjoyed his fire. So different from the man he'd barely been -- so fueled, so much better. "I'm glad you're so eager, William." He pressed his weight against the young vampire to hold him in place as he reached out to his wrists, grabbing hold and raising them above his head, calmly and methodically fastening each to the chains hanging above them, stretching his arms apart until he was effectively bound without much slack. Part of the present left by his Sire, his mate and lover before she'd gone out. Angelus stepped back then, his dark eyes amused, cruel, with the edge of a taunting light to them. "I think the truth is you know your place," he suggested lightly. "You love it, don't you? The child who need not want for food, or shelter, or pleasure. The boy who runs to Mammy -- but Dru can't always provide, can she? She's not the most attentive of Sires, I'm afraid." His tone was mockingly wistful. As he spoke, he'd moved over to his bag to fish out one more item which he kept just out of sight in his hand before slipping it into his pocket as he returned to the bound vampire on his wall. *** Attempting to fight Angelus as he was chained to the wall might have been ineffectual, but that didn't mean that Spike didn't try. It'd be a cold day in hell when he stopped fighting Angelus; even when they seemed to get along, Spike was just waiting for the next opportunity. "That whole parent-sire comparison? Not really my kind of fetish." Spike replied, his tone filled with a self assurance he might not have actually felt. "Had a mum, and it wasn't Dru." It didn't matter whether his words were true or not, if they were the sort to cut deep somewhere under all Spike's bravado, he'd learned a long time ago that showing it wasn't going to do anything but make ammunition for Angelus. Point in case -- Dru. It didn't take long after he'd been sired for him to sense that Dru was nuttier than a fruitcake, but the thing of it was that Spike didn't care. He didn't care about her duties or whatever was his sire. Of course, thinking that didn't keep Spike from glaring at Angelus, trying his best to ignore the discomfort he was already beginning the feel. He wasn't going to give him the satisfaction. *** "Had your mam indeed, after a fashion, so Dru says," Angelus' expression darkened at the whelp's insolence. "I think she must have made a mistake, during your siring." He shook his head, looking over William disapprovingly. Reaching out to him, he grabbed hold of his shirt and tugged hard, the material ripping easily and he moved to tear the rest of the shirt off as well, stripping the young vampire down to his skin. He took out what he'd pocketed and examined it a moment, fingering the small leather strap. This wasn't its intended purpose, but he wished to have a little fun first; he was in no rush. It never ceased to bring him pleasure, causing the boy pain. He was exquisite in agony. Angelus held the metal piece in his hand and struck several times in succession on William's exposed chest, the leather snapping through the air and marking his pale skin with red welts. "You're much too womanish. You've -- humanity in you, my boy. Perhaps it's my fault. Perhaps I should take a stronger hand in your raising." *** Spike's expression darkened briefly at that. The last time he'd seen his mother hadn't exactly gone well -- if he was willing to incredibly simplify it. And Spike was more than willing to only think about it in those kind of terms. All the things that she'd said… And now this big bloody poof was trying to tell him there was something wrong with him? Before Spike could give that the kind of retort that it deserved, he was distracted by the part where Angelus was tearing his shirt to pieces. Giving the older vampire a bit of a smirk, Spike said, "Ooh, are we going to play a game?" And God did that hurt. The idea that he wouldn't scream had flitted through Spike's mind briefly as he eyed the leather strap Angelus held in his hands, but being hit with the material several times had thrown the possibility of that right out the damn window and even if he was sure that was the exact reaction Angelus wanted, Spike screamed with the pain. Even still, through the pain and the fact that Spike was sure that he wasn't only bleeding from Angelus' earlier backhands anymore, Spike raised an eyebrow at him. Being insolent was pretty much his best weapon. "Hold on a mo. Do you want to be my 'Dad'?" he asked in his most sarcastic tone possible, trying not to sound as if he had spent the past couple of minutes screaming. And God, this was actually starting to get really uncomfortable. *** Angelus struck again at his response. "You will show me respect, William. I am not your mad little destiny, I am not dismissive of your very existence -- I, boy, am the only creature in this world who can show you what you are, and I can just as easily end your part in it." You can take what you want, have what you want, but nothing is yours. He growled, stepping in close, taking the opportunity to trace cool fingers through the scattered and smeared blood on William's chest. Then in a low murmur and in practiced, American tones, he added, "I don't want to see you suffer, Spike." As though he hadn't said a thing, Angelus pulled back, raising the blood to his lips almost absently, the look in his eyes suddenly soft. In a blink of the eye, he raised the metal device to William's neck and wrapped the strap around, fastening it securely as he pushed his head back. There were two prongs on either end of the metal piece, a pair lightly touching William's sternum and the other end threatening to pierce his chin. The effect was to keep the boy's head from drooping down, effectively baring his throat to the world, and more importantly, to Angelus' ministrations. He'd still be able to speak, but he was trapped and immobilized and wouldn't, in the long term, be able to rest else he wished to bleed himself dry. It was one of the simplest devices Angelus used, but it was one of his favorites. *** Someone might say that Spike just didn't know what was best for him in egging Angelus on when he was already in a position that couldn't have any kind of good ending whatsoever. But the thing of it was, Spike was incredibly aware of what was best for him, and it wasn't in giving in to Angelus' attempts to break him. If he did that, he'd likely end up just as insane as Dru. He refused to give Angelus that power. "I was wondering how long it'd take you to get to that part," Spike replied in response to Angelus' threat to stake him. Which of course was what it was. But considering that he'd actually had a piece of wood in his hand two years ago and didn't do it then, Spike was willing to partially call his bluff. What caused him to frown, though, was the sudden change in his manner, even in his voice. Was this some new game he was trying to play? Trying to reel Spike in with a bit of kindness and then beat him down for being so gullible. Well it wasn't going to work. And the blood tasting? That was new. And felt a lot more… intimate (if he had to pick a word) than their relationship had ever been. But just as soon as it appeared, it was gone and Spike was soon trapped with whatever torture instrument this was forcing his head back. He recognized almost immediately that it was actually very important that he tried to keep that way, but because Spike just didn't have the ability to keep his mouth shut, he said, "So what's the plan here? I stay like this for however long you deem, or I end up getting very close to the sharp and pointy ends?" *** "Hush, boy." William never seemed to stop talking. Dependent upon his mood, Angelus was either amused by the fact or infuriated. At the moment, however, he was neither. He was examining the swirls of blood he'd created on his chest with studied interest, gently running his fingers through the liquid once more. He was fascinated by the look of it, by the reactions he could wring from William’s body as he stayed just shy of causing him further pain. At any other time, in any other sense of normalcy, he would have continued the beating until William hung limp, a pink and pale mass of abused flesh, driving home the lesson of respect with his fist, as he was want to do. His lilt returned, he kept his focus on his task instead, painting red on a white canvas as he spoke. "We are not mindless animals, William, nor are we human filth. We are better. We are elevated. We live as Kings, and you would do well to remember your place -- it is above them, my boy. You are my blood, my line, and I'll not see you run into rags by your idiocy." His tone darkened. “I’ll fix you, William. Teach you the pain and pleasure beyond your imagination that only demons can attain.” You think that's still me? It's not. I care, Spike. I never could, before. I'm sorry for that. *** The part where Spike wasn't supposed to move because if he did one end of this… contraption could end up being very painful was not going to work out well for Spike. He wasn't made to stand still, or to be quiet. He liked words, especially. Words had been his thing in life when he'd wasted it writing awful poetry and mooning after a woman named Cecily. And, now, words still continued to be in his favor, except not for the same thing, that was never going to happen again. Especially now when the only thing Spike could actually do physically was glare ineffectively at Angelus from a horrible angle. Spike didn't care about all of that, and he didn't need to be told that he was better than humans now; they were just meals after all. But then, he also didn't know how he felt about Angelus' declaration of fixing him. There wasn't anything to fix. He was fine, better than fine. Angelus just wanted to turn him into some kind of bloody puppet. Well, that was too bad. Because Spike didn't play that game anymore. He was done with hiding in the shadows and running from anything dangerous and the sooner Angelus got that, the better. "This might not come as a shock to you, but I'm not interested in anything you want to teach me," Spike retorted, still defiant to the end. Even if he was being stupidly defiant. *** Angelus chose not to respond with words. Instead, he dipped his head to William's chest and began lapping up his blood, forging a trail upwards until he reached his bared throat. His movements were a gentle and focused pressure while his hands held the young vampire's body still. His traced over the bite marks left by Drusilla with his tongue, knowing the flesh was still sensitive. When he spoke, his voice was once again not his own. "Come on, Spike. Give in already so we can go pick up Will from Karate. He's gonna get mad at us for making him wait again. It’ll be your fault this time if he ends up kicking a hole through the door." A smirk was on his face when he pulled back, his hair shorter, sticking up and slightly unkempt and his eyes holding a bright, teasing light. His cravat was untied and his shirtsleeves messily rolled up as he looked back at the younger vampire. *** Whatever Spike might have been thinking stuttered to a stop, then. Because that wasn't the way this went with them, right? It just -- it didn't. And yet, there was Spike, letting out a shuddering breath that was more reflex than actual need as Angelus… how did he even describe what Angelus was doing? And what made it worse (worse?) was that he couldn't actually see Angelus, even if he felt him. Spike definitely felt him. And he wanted it to keep going. Which made Angelus' stopping disappointing. And then Angelus was saying something, pulling back, looking completely different. Even down to his hair. How could that have happened within minutes? "What?" Spike almost croaked out. What the hell was this. Spike would've almost thought Dru was around pulling some kind of mind trick if that sort of thing could actually work on him. "What the hell is going on?" *** A blink and the look in his eyes changed -- went colder, harder, darker, even while the rest of his appearance stayed the same. "What are you asking after, William?" Angelus had his fingers on the young vampire's throat, touching it lightly, threateningly. One hand trailed downwards, still gentle, always gentle, playing with flesh warm still from the beating. Angelus leaned in and pulled William's head downward just enough so the prongs could pierce him slightly, drawing more of his blood to run down his neck. Angelus bit down hard where it landed over Dru's marks, but with blunt, human teeth. He made a sound like a low, hungry growl, before continuing in a whispered lilt, "You've never thought much on your own damnation, my boy. Hell. Do you know what awaits you? Do you think your trip changed your fate?" He grabbed hold of the device and dug it into William's collarbone suddenly and very strongly, his tone darkening. "Don't think about Her here, She has nothing to do with this." *** Spike officially had no idea what the hell was happening. None of this, none of what Angelus was saying made any sort of sense and it all just left Spike confused, the feeling clearly written in the expression on his face. So much so that all Spike could do was watch him with a furrowed brow as he tried to understand just when Angelus had lost his marbles. As if to make things more confusing, Angelus' hand on his throat was deceptively soft before he forced Spike’s head down. He gritted his teeth against the pain, pulling a bit at the chains that held him, just when Angelus bit him with blunt teeth --but the effect it had on Spike was almost the same. Maybe this was some new game of his. Maybe he was trying to throw Spike off with this... this. Whatever this was. "My trip? What...?" And if Spike might have been about to say anything else, it was cut off by a scream of pain as Angelus pushed the device down, and for a moment Spike was unable to think of saying anything at all. After the initial pain, Spike gasped out, "Dru? How did you -- ?" He really needed some of this to make sense. *** Angelus had perfected torture more than a century before William had ever joined them, and that of humans, whose bodies were far more fragile and less willing to take the strain. "But you, Will, you can handle more, can't you? Always needing more." As he spoke, he held the prongs firmly buried in his flesh, twisting it slightly with each word. His other hand had moved down and out of sight. "Shut up, Spike." American again. Angelus pushed the device in deeper. "Don't play dumb." His voice changed once more, returning to the lilt, "Not our dark princess, our light, is it not? But you're not to think of Her here. Like always, you're missing the point." You've obviously got some ideas of your own, Spike. So what do you want from me? He loosened the strap and tore the prongs out of William’s flesh unforgivingly, smacking his hand down hard on the laceration left there before moving it off, cutting his own wrist, and lifting his wound to the young vampire’s lips. *** The pain was almost too much, even as Angelus told him that he could handle more. Somehow, with the burning feeling as Angelus twisted, Spike didn't feel like he could handle much of anything. It was as if the haze suddenly cleared in Spike's mind. He could picture a girl, a woman, short and blonde and fighting evil, sometimes even fighting him. Instinctively, he knew that it was her and not Dru that Angelus was referring to in his cryptic way. "Buffy." Why did it always come to her? Or maybe it didn't. He wasn't supposed to think of her, right? Not here. So what was he supposed to think about? Missing the point, Spike didn't think was his fault. After all, he'd been stabbed by Angelus' bloody contraption and he didn't need the pain to know that he was bleeding steadily. The thought that Angelus really was a bastard. And as if to prove the point, he yanked the prongs that he had used to stab Spike out, a yell of pain forced from Spike's lips. And now he was offering Spike his blood. Spike met his eyes as Angelus raised his wrist to Spike's mouth. The idea that this might be some kind of game had occurred to him, that if he went for it, he'd suffer, but with it so close, Spike couldn't resist. *** William received no reprimand for uttering the name aloud. Instead, Angelus' tone softened. "Of course. And always. But not here." When he accepted the offer, Angelus gave his half-cryptic smile. He dropped the pronged piece of metal from his free hand and reached up to release him from the chains, supporting the bloodied vampire as the strain hit his limbs. He made no effort to limit William's take from his bloodstream, instead guiding him downwards gracefully, folding them both to the ground as the boy drank. His appearance changed again, his hair lengthened and perfectly coiffed as it always was as he held William still. "There's no belonging or deserving anymore," he said in a quiet, American accent. "Somehow, I have to doubt that now. The rules have changed." *** Somehow, being set free from the chains managed to hurt more than almost everything else that had been done to him. Even still, it was a relief to be let down. Enough that Spike couldn't find the energy in him to do much more than to go where Angelus was guiding them. None of this -- Angelus changing back and forth, his accent going along with his actions and his clothes and all -- made sense. The obvious answer was waiting for him to realize just what it was as he heard Angelus' words distantly. Which rules had changed? Spike focused his thoughts on that, because the only other option was to think of the first thing he'd said and what it had meant when Spike had first heard it. You can take what you want, have what you want… but nothing is yours. And it wasn't the sort of thing that came with good happy memories. Spike pulled back then, giving Angelus a look. "What does all of this mean?" *** Angelus returned his gaze calmly, the look in his own eyes for the first time utterly without intent. He was inscrutable -- unreadable and calm and watchful. "You've never been very good at listening to me." He reached out and pushed William, easily manipulating him until he laid back on the luxuriously carpeted floor. He picked up the metal piece and dragged it lightly across his chest, leaning over him as he traced delicate circles. His expression was still neutral. He set the piece back down on the floor and moved one hand to cover William's eyes. With a sudden and violent growl, Angelus drove his hand directly into the young vampire’s heart. *** |
Like being shocked with thousands of volts of electricity, Spike shot up into an upright position, eyes wide as what he'd dreamt started to come back to him. It was a natural reaction for a hand to go where his heart would be, relief flooding through him as he realized that he hadn't just had his heart ripped out -- was it going to be ripped out? He frowned heavily, not sure of what it meant. What any of it meant. As of right now, all his dream was (and that was if he stuck with calling it a dream and not a nightmare), was a jumbled mess of confusion. None of it made sense. Not Angel, or Angelus. Not being in that house, and that moment of all the ones when Spike had chosen to piss Angelus off as much as he possibly could, inciting the older vampire into violence. And this was before Spike got to the part where Will was mentioned. Will, the kid who was in the future he belonged in and didn't matter, because whatever they'd done -- and Spike did try not to think about the boy's origins if he could avoid it -- to… bring the boy into existence was not going to happen. It couldn't happen. "Fuck," Spike muttered under his breath, running a hand over his face before he decided that he probably wasn't going to be sleeping any time soon. And did he really want to be? He had a dream about Angel/us. What the hell did that say about where his head was at? Sliding out of his bed, Spike didn't bother turning on any lights as he he made his way through his apartment. Somewhere in his kitchen was alcohol, and Spike was going to drink as much as it would take to forget he'd ever had the dream. *** God, what the hell was that? Angel was standing now on the edge of the rooftop. His eyes were scanning the horizon where the sun was just beginning to rise. His body was tensed as though ready for a blow or a strike or, hell, anything about to take him down. But nothing came. He was alone in the quiet morning and he knew he had only a few minutes before he had to get back inside. He also knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep the scant few hours he usually managed before work. He was absolutely wired and would seek solace in the coffee maker downstairs. And then maybe take a few whacks at that wobbly chair he'd briefly considered fixing. Just as soon as he calmed down from whatever the hell had just invaded his head. What was going on? He remembered vague images. He remembered Rome. He remembered blood. There was very little else in his mind. Well, there was Spike. But that suggested nothing except, possibly, the origin of his restlessness. He didn't know what had just happened, but he worried that Spike had felt it, too. Was this something? A warning? He had no idea. He considered consulting Wes about it, but he didn't think he'd find answers there. He needed to check on Spike. Mostly, he knew that his colleagues weren't going to be very happy with a temperamental vampire in their midst today. At this moment, he couldn't summon up enough energy to care. |