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tamingthemuseTitle: City of Night 1/?
Fandom: Angel the Series
Prompt: Arcade
Warnings: Some implied slashiness
Rating: Adults only
Summary: This is about the period after Dru dumps Spike the second time, and what happens between the dumping and him arriving in Sunnydale with Harmony. I’ve alluded in several other fics about this period, and always meant to get around to writing it. In this chapter, Spike arrives in Los Angeles.
Spike wandered in the upper levels of the half-gutted cathedral, stalking down an arcade of low arches that gave glimpses of the main floor below. It had been badly damaged in the earthquake, and they were supposed to be restoring it. But at the moment the restoration had not begun. It was boarded-up and empty, a perfect resting spot for the day.
He’d seen it as he’d been driving past motels, trying to steel himself to deal with the half-zombied excuses for humans that staffed the night desks. This was perfect. Ruined, useless. Empty, hollowed-out. Solitary. Like his heart.
He’d driven through Mexico in a drunken haze, sucking up cheap tequila in inhuman quantities. It didn’t kill the pain. Tonight he was sober. He settled on the narrow arcade, his back against the wall, looking down at the ruins of the once-magnificent church.
He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his duster pocket, and his Zippo. There was a brief flare of light in the velvet darkness as he lit one, sucking the smoke into his lungs. There was something human about the act of smoking. He’d noticed it almost always put people at ease, in a club or a bar. It gave his hands something to do, calmed his often spastic need for movement and action. He let out a long breath, the smoke curling in the air in front of him. He watched the patterns it made. Sometimes he fancied he saw things in it. Maybe it was just a little of Dru’s madness rubbing off on him after all these years.
Puff after puff, he watched the smoke. Looking for a sign, anything. Something to tell him what to do next. He couldn’t just keep driving. He couldn’t move fast enough to outrun what haunted him.
A few gaps in the boards below began to show the daylight seeping in. It was time to rest. He pulled out a pillow and a ratty blanket from the pack he’d brought up from the DeSoto. It wasn’t much on the cold stone floor, but he imagined the whole building would warm as the day moved on. Besides, the discomfort was a distraction. It seemed all he’d done lately was look for distractions.
Sleep came a lot more swiftly that he’d expected. His dreams were filled with wispy scraps of memories that melted away when he reached for them. He awoke, dry-mouthed, hungry, and aching.
Another quick cigarette while he pulled himself together. Time to hit the streets, to find someone he could take a bit from. He gathered up his things and headed back to the DeSoto.
It was a warm night, the heat rising from the pavement, echoing back what the sun had poured in all day. Los Angeles. He reached over for his collection of tapes, pushing in one of The Doors. The smoky voice of Jim Morrison started singing L.A. Woman. Perfect.
He cruised slowly down the street, looking for a target. Instead the bright glare of neon and the definite scent of demons caught his notice. ‘Caritas’ the neon sign said. He gave into curiosity and pulled his car into a nearby lot. Before he knew it he was sliding in through the door. There was a tingle of magick in the air. Nothing harmful, just tangible. He could see there was a N’grack demon on stage singing karaoke to ‘I Walk The Line’. He had to grin. Surreal. Perhaps this would be a decent distraction, for a night or so.
He straddled a barstool. A handsome young Satyrna demon, black horns and black eyes the only giveaway that he wasn’t human, came over to him. “What can I get you gorgeous?”
Spike smiled back. Satyrna were notoriously pansexual and he’d had more than one pleasant encounter with one. Besides, never hurt to be nice to the bartender. “Got any house red?” He asked, his expression making it clear he wasn’t referring to wine.
“Sure.” The bartender didn’t blink as he reached into a refrigerator, pulling out a plastic bag of blood and dumping it into something that had to be a warmer. He served it up in a tall glass, sticking a stalk of celery into it with a wry grin.
Spike had to chuckle. “Special Bloody Mary, eh?”
The bartender grinned back, flashing white teeth. “Yes. You can ask for it that way, if you prefer, next time.”
“What’s your name, pet?” Spike asked.
“Sebastian. And yours?”
“Spike.” He took a sip of it. Human, and fairly fresh. It helped clear up the fuzziness in his brain. “What sort of place is this?”
A voice sounded behind him as a green hand gently touched his shoulder. “This is Caritas, kitten. You must be new in town. I’m Lorne.”
Spike was amazed, normally someone coming up on him like that would have triggered some alarm in his senses. He turned to see a green demon with red horns and red eyes, dressed in a shiny purple suit, standing behind him. There was something about him that let him know almost instantly that Lorne wasn’t a threat. He relaxed. “I am new in town. So what’s the magic I feel crawling down my spine?”
“Ah, you can feel it? Most can’t. It’s a non-violence spell. Caritas is neutral ground for all demons. No fighting here. Just drinks and karaoke. Hosted, of course, by my fabulous self.”
Spike had to grin again. Lorne was quite obviously a character. “Karaoke? Why?”
Lorne shrugged. “I’m an anagogic demon. I can read people when they sing. Answer their questions, see their future, to a limited extent. People come here, pay me for my help when they can afford it.” He looked up Spike up and down. “I don’t need to hear you sing to tell your story though, kitten. You should stick around. There’s a kindred spirit coming in later, do you some good.”
“What does…” But the question was cut off as Lorne moved away to pump more hands, to keep the crowd happy and moving. Spike watched him work and sipped at the blood. Well, all right, maybe it was worth sticking around here a little while. A bar was his preferred habitat anyway. He turned over Lorne’s words in his mind. A kindred spirit? What did he mean by that? Curiosity got the better of him, as it usually did. He was going to wait and see. Should be an entertaining night at any rate.
Fandom: Angel the Series
Prompt: Arcade
Warnings: Some implied slashiness
Rating: Adults only
Summary: This is about the period after Dru dumps Spike the second time, and what happens between the dumping and him arriving in Sunnydale with Harmony. I’ve alluded in several other fics about this period, and always meant to get around to writing it. In this chapter, Spike arrives in Los Angeles.
Spike wandered in the upper levels of the half-gutted cathedral, stalking down an arcade of low arches that gave glimpses of the main floor below. It had been badly damaged in the earthquake, and they were supposed to be restoring it. But at the moment the restoration had not begun. It was boarded-up and empty, a perfect resting spot for the day.
He’d seen it as he’d been driving past motels, trying to steel himself to deal with the half-zombied excuses for humans that staffed the night desks. This was perfect. Ruined, useless. Empty, hollowed-out. Solitary. Like his heart.
He’d driven through Mexico in a drunken haze, sucking up cheap tequila in inhuman quantities. It didn’t kill the pain. Tonight he was sober. He settled on the narrow arcade, his back against the wall, looking down at the ruins of the once-magnificent church.
He pulled a pack of Marlboros from his duster pocket, and his Zippo. There was a brief flare of light in the velvet darkness as he lit one, sucking the smoke into his lungs. There was something human about the act of smoking. He’d noticed it almost always put people at ease, in a club or a bar. It gave his hands something to do, calmed his often spastic need for movement and action. He let out a long breath, the smoke curling in the air in front of him. He watched the patterns it made. Sometimes he fancied he saw things in it. Maybe it was just a little of Dru’s madness rubbing off on him after all these years.
Puff after puff, he watched the smoke. Looking for a sign, anything. Something to tell him what to do next. He couldn’t just keep driving. He couldn’t move fast enough to outrun what haunted him.
A few gaps in the boards below began to show the daylight seeping in. It was time to rest. He pulled out a pillow and a ratty blanket from the pack he’d brought up from the DeSoto. It wasn’t much on the cold stone floor, but he imagined the whole building would warm as the day moved on. Besides, the discomfort was a distraction. It seemed all he’d done lately was look for distractions.
Sleep came a lot more swiftly that he’d expected. His dreams were filled with wispy scraps of memories that melted away when he reached for them. He awoke, dry-mouthed, hungry, and aching.
Another quick cigarette while he pulled himself together. Time to hit the streets, to find someone he could take a bit from. He gathered up his things and headed back to the DeSoto.
It was a warm night, the heat rising from the pavement, echoing back what the sun had poured in all day. Los Angeles. He reached over for his collection of tapes, pushing in one of The Doors. The smoky voice of Jim Morrison started singing L.A. Woman. Perfect.
He cruised slowly down the street, looking for a target. Instead the bright glare of neon and the definite scent of demons caught his notice. ‘Caritas’ the neon sign said. He gave into curiosity and pulled his car into a nearby lot. Before he knew it he was sliding in through the door. There was a tingle of magick in the air. Nothing harmful, just tangible. He could see there was a N’grack demon on stage singing karaoke to ‘I Walk The Line’. He had to grin. Surreal. Perhaps this would be a decent distraction, for a night or so.
He straddled a barstool. A handsome young Satyrna demon, black horns and black eyes the only giveaway that he wasn’t human, came over to him. “What can I get you gorgeous?”
Spike smiled back. Satyrna were notoriously pansexual and he’d had more than one pleasant encounter with one. Besides, never hurt to be nice to the bartender. “Got any house red?” He asked, his expression making it clear he wasn’t referring to wine.
“Sure.” The bartender didn’t blink as he reached into a refrigerator, pulling out a plastic bag of blood and dumping it into something that had to be a warmer. He served it up in a tall glass, sticking a stalk of celery into it with a wry grin.
Spike had to chuckle. “Special Bloody Mary, eh?”
The bartender grinned back, flashing white teeth. “Yes. You can ask for it that way, if you prefer, next time.”
“What’s your name, pet?” Spike asked.
“Sebastian. And yours?”
“Spike.” He took a sip of it. Human, and fairly fresh. It helped clear up the fuzziness in his brain. “What sort of place is this?”
A voice sounded behind him as a green hand gently touched his shoulder. “This is Caritas, kitten. You must be new in town. I’m Lorne.”
Spike was amazed, normally someone coming up on him like that would have triggered some alarm in his senses. He turned to see a green demon with red horns and red eyes, dressed in a shiny purple suit, standing behind him. There was something about him that let him know almost instantly that Lorne wasn’t a threat. He relaxed. “I am new in town. So what’s the magic I feel crawling down my spine?”
“Ah, you can feel it? Most can’t. It’s a non-violence spell. Caritas is neutral ground for all demons. No fighting here. Just drinks and karaoke. Hosted, of course, by my fabulous self.”
Spike had to grin again. Lorne was quite obviously a character. “Karaoke? Why?”
Lorne shrugged. “I’m an anagogic demon. I can read people when they sing. Answer their questions, see their future, to a limited extent. People come here, pay me for my help when they can afford it.” He looked up Spike up and down. “I don’t need to hear you sing to tell your story though, kitten. You should stick around. There’s a kindred spirit coming in later, do you some good.”
“What does…” But the question was cut off as Lorne moved away to pump more hands, to keep the crowd happy and moving. Spike watched him work and sipped at the blood. Well, all right, maybe it was worth sticking around here a little while. A bar was his preferred habitat anyway. He turned over Lorne’s words in his mind. A kindred spirit? What did he mean by that? Curiosity got the better of him, as it usually did. He was going to wait and see. Should be an entertaining night at any rate.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-11 04:02 am (UTC)looking forward to more
no subject
Date: 2006-08-12 03:51 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-13 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-08-14 12:00 am (UTC)"[...]Hosted, of course, by my fabulous self."
That is SO Lorne. lol.
no subject
Date: 2006-08-16 01:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-04-06 06:20 am (UTC)Nice description of the cathederal and I loved Lorne - who else would be able to call Spike 'kitten'?
I guess it's Angel coming in later? Guess I'll go and see.
no subject
Date: 2007-04-07 07:03 am (UTC)