![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
spike-1790.livejournal.com posting in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
tamingthemuseTitle: Coming home.
Fandom: Spike/Angel (BTVS/AtS)
Prompt: #276- A journey of a thousand miles starts with a quick stumble
Word Count: 643
Warnings: sexual content, language, implied non-con, mentions of S&M
Rating: NC-17 (just to be on the safe side)
Summary: Angel reflects on his life.
UNBETA'D
Before the soul, Angelus had loved to hear Spike scream. He had loved to make Spike scream even more. Sometimes chains and whips and fangs and fucking the boy until he bled were the only things that could satisfy Angelus.
After the soul, he could barely stand to be in the same room as the cocky young vampire. And when Darla had thrown Angelus out, part of him had been glad. He stumbled into the street, safe in the knowledge that he would no longer have to look at the boy he could no longer have.
A century of dining on the finest sewer rats he could catch, only seeing Spike once, in a submarine, deep under the surface of the ocean, and he still hadn’t come to terms with the soul and what it meant. He was too wrapped up in his torment to keep tabs on the family he had left.
And then he had met a girl. The girl. The one girl in all the world, chosen to kill his kind. And he had staked his sire for the girl. His Darla. When her dust had settled, he spared a thought for Spike and Drusilla, the family he had left behind.
Less than a year later, Spike had shown up. The boy he had spent so long beating and breaking was gone. In his place was a dangerous predator, a killer, honed to perfection. Gone were the soft waves of hair that had once framed the angelic face. Instead, a helmet of stiffly gelled platinum blonde hardness that added to the creation that was Spike, who used to be William.
In the brief time where the soul had gone wandering, he had had a chance to have William back. But he had chosen to hurt him more. Spike hadn’t screamed though. That had made Angelus angry. Made him hurt Spike more. In the end it didn’t matter- Spike had helped send him to hell.
After he had moved to Los Angeles, his focus had been on his friends and his job, and Spike became no more than an itch in the back of his mind, always there and uncomfortable and he wanted it to go, but didn’t want to lose the tangible connection.
Then he had heard that Spike had got a soul. That hadn’t impressed him at all. He had gone to Sunnydale, spoken to Buffy and learned things he had never wanted to learn. Spike and Buffy. The thought made him sick. He just wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Spike’s hands on Buffy, or Buffy touching Spike that had him so riled up.
When he heard that Spike had died, he cried for his boy. He hadn’t expected to ever see him again. Then he had shown up in LA, as a ghost, as a pain in Angel’s ass. But they had become friends, in a manner of speaking. When the pressures of corporate life had got too much, Spike had always been there for Angel to vent to.
Spike had turned solid. They had fought. Spike had become an even bigger pain in the ass. But he was still always there when Angel needed him. By the time Angel had taken to bending Spike over the nicely polished desk in his office, there was no way of denying the hate had passed. And when ‘against the desk’ moved to ‘in Angel’s bed’, and Spike had whispered “I love you”, Angel was forced to admit that this was what he had been missing for the last hundred plus years. He had missed his boy.
Now, cuddled up in bed together, Spike asleep in his arms, Angel reflected on his life. From that first stumble away from his family, to being back where he most wanted to be, it had been one hell of a journey.
Fandom: Spike/Angel (BTVS/AtS)
Prompt: #276- A journey of a thousand miles starts with a quick stumble
Word Count: 643
Warnings: sexual content, language, implied non-con, mentions of S&M
Rating: NC-17 (just to be on the safe side)
Summary: Angel reflects on his life.
UNBETA'D
Before the soul, Angelus had loved to hear Spike scream. He had loved to make Spike scream even more. Sometimes chains and whips and fangs and fucking the boy until he bled were the only things that could satisfy Angelus.
After the soul, he could barely stand to be in the same room as the cocky young vampire. And when Darla had thrown Angelus out, part of him had been glad. He stumbled into the street, safe in the knowledge that he would no longer have to look at the boy he could no longer have.
A century of dining on the finest sewer rats he could catch, only seeing Spike once, in a submarine, deep under the surface of the ocean, and he still hadn’t come to terms with the soul and what it meant. He was too wrapped up in his torment to keep tabs on the family he had left.
And then he had met a girl. The girl. The one girl in all the world, chosen to kill his kind. And he had staked his sire for the girl. His Darla. When her dust had settled, he spared a thought for Spike and Drusilla, the family he had left behind.
Less than a year later, Spike had shown up. The boy he had spent so long beating and breaking was gone. In his place was a dangerous predator, a killer, honed to perfection. Gone were the soft waves of hair that had once framed the angelic face. Instead, a helmet of stiffly gelled platinum blonde hardness that added to the creation that was Spike, who used to be William.
In the brief time where the soul had gone wandering, he had had a chance to have William back. But he had chosen to hurt him more. Spike hadn’t screamed though. That had made Angelus angry. Made him hurt Spike more. In the end it didn’t matter- Spike had helped send him to hell.
After he had moved to Los Angeles, his focus had been on his friends and his job, and Spike became no more than an itch in the back of his mind, always there and uncomfortable and he wanted it to go, but didn’t want to lose the tangible connection.
Then he had heard that Spike had got a soul. That hadn’t impressed him at all. He had gone to Sunnydale, spoken to Buffy and learned things he had never wanted to learn. Spike and Buffy. The thought made him sick. He just wasn’t sure if it was the thought of Spike’s hands on Buffy, or Buffy touching Spike that had him so riled up.
When he heard that Spike had died, he cried for his boy. He hadn’t expected to ever see him again. Then he had shown up in LA, as a ghost, as a pain in Angel’s ass. But they had become friends, in a manner of speaking. When the pressures of corporate life had got too much, Spike had always been there for Angel to vent to.
Spike had turned solid. They had fought. Spike had become an even bigger pain in the ass. But he was still always there when Angel needed him. By the time Angel had taken to bending Spike over the nicely polished desk in his office, there was no way of denying the hate had passed. And when ‘against the desk’ moved to ‘in Angel’s bed’, and Spike had whispered “I love you”, Angel was forced to admit that this was what he had been missing for the last hundred plus years. He had missed his boy.
Now, cuddled up in bed together, Spike asleep in his arms, Angel reflected on his life. From that first stumble away from his family, to being back where he most wanted to be, it had been one hell of a journey.
