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tamingthemuseAUTHOR: Salustra
E-MAIL: Salustra: goddess_salustra@juno.com
TITLE: Victory Verse 12- Risk
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Spike/Angelus
CONTENT: nudity; mentions of abusive control magicks.
SUMMARY: Spike and Angelus go to the shaman. Twelve in the Victory Verse. Done for tamingthemuse prompt#369- making ends not quite meet.
Distribution: Various lists, Wierd Romance Yahoo Group- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WierdRomance ;
My livejournal - http://salustra.livejournal.com/ ; and the website Weird Romances- http://www.freewebs.com/salustra/wr/index.html . No posting elsewhere without express permission please.
SPOILERS: Through Angel S5 x08 - "Destiny"
DISCLAIMER: Playing wit the boys, but we’re just having fun. No money made, don’t sue us! (or, in more formal language-
Copyright Disclaimer I do not own any characters, products or services depicted in this story which you recognize. Original characters/characterization and plot are mine. Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series characters are OOC and I cite section 107 of the US copyright clause on 'fair use' to be found HERE
Principally this is a transformative work, for enjoyment only, has a selective audience and I make no profit. )
FEEDBACK: Yes please.
Length: 1,141 words.
It didn't take us long to get to the shaman's office in the executive medical transport, which resembled an SUV stretch limo from the outside. We'd been ensconced comfortably in the limo portion.
I was a bit worried, to be honest, about involving an outside party. I controlled the employees of Wolfram and Hart, but not this person that was going to have Spike's unlife in his hands. And that lack of control bothered me. I was less worried about the procedure. Wesley wouldn't have recommended him if he wasn't the best.
We entered the office and it positively reeked of sage and other herbs. The walls were done in soft pastels and decorated with various pieces of Native American art. It was obviously past his normal hours as there seemed to be no one around.
It only took a moment before he appeared. He was obviously Native American. He walked barefoot and was clad simply in loose yoga pants and a half-buttoned blue shirt, with a necklace of tiny colorful beads. He was a handsome fellow with dark eyes and long dark hair. He extended his hand with a smile. "I'm John Whiteagle. You must be Angel," he said to me, shaking my hand. Then he turned. "And you must be Spike," he said, and shook Spike's hand. He had a deeply thoughtful look on his face for a moment. "Spike, I really need you to do a little ritual cleansing before we proceed. If you go down the hallway here, second door to the left, everything is set for you."
As soon as Spike was gone he turned back to me, his expression serious but serene. "I need to know from you, do you want this to work? Do you want him to come out unhurt?"
I frowned and scowled. "Of course I do."
"Then you can't be in the room." He raised a hand to stop the angry remarks I was about to make. "This is one of the most complex operations I've ever done. That thing has small tethers connecting it to an alternate dimension. It also has internal barbs sunk into the bone. I've spent the past two hours making sacred space and calling in the favors of many friendly spirits. I'm trying to do an operation while I'm also juggling chainsaws, metaphorically. And without meaning to, you can disrupt things very easily with your temper and possessiveness. I have a viewing room, heavily warded, where you can watch him."
I let out a long, slow sigh. "Very well." I didn't like it, not at all, but hell I was paying for his expertise, I should listen. Besides, nothing could go wrong with this, I wanted my boy whole.
John Whiteagle showed me to the viewing room. "Oh, one last thing, we'll both be naked. But I promise you, neither of us will be feeling any arousal. That room is soaked in damping energy."
I growled softly but settled in a thickly padded armchair. It was one-way glass evidently, looking into the 'treatment' room. Inside was a thick bed of furs, and all about where candles, incense, and various objects. I tried to relax as the shaman left and I waited to see the ritual.
~ ~ ~ ~
The ritual bath was nice. Water about as hot as I could stand, with all sorts of oils and such mixed into the water. I soaked as long as I could, and came out fragrant, warmed through, and relaxed. I toweled off and pulled on the robe left out for me. It didn't take too much time until the shaman came for me. He was so lovely and under most circumstances I would probably be flirting harmlessly with him. But right now all I could feel was this serenity that seemed to press everything else away.
He led me off into the chamber. I'd seen places like this before and this was a nice one. The energy was palpable in the room, like a heavy blanket. I shed the robe and he gestured for me to lie down. The room was eerily quiet as he picked up a brush and dipped it into something blackish and gooey and began to paint on himself, then me. I could feel the symbols working their way down my spine.
The air in the room grew thicker. I could see out of the corners of my eyes vague outlines of animals in the air. John has started chanting and the air vibrated now, and there were sparks of light. He seemed to wrap the fingers around something in the air and slice it with a ritual knife. Then he set aside the knife and the chanting grew more and more feverish.
Then I saw it, the thin scalpel-like shards that crackled into existence around me. They crossed and twisted and bent, making ends not quite meet. Whether the shards were a protection or a prison wasn't obvious and I couldn't ask the chanting shaman. Then I felt his hands enter my body. It was a ghostlike sensation, just the energy of hand-like shapes in my body, then they were out again and the shards shattered and melted away. John was still chanting as he took the object in his hands and dropped it into a crystal tube filled with liquid and pressed a metal stopped in the opening.
The feel of power was sucked out of the room in a whoosh of air. John staggered over and sat on the furs, pulling on a robe before he collapsed, laying back heavily on the furs. I took the hint and pulled on the robe I'd come in with. I was shaky but the shaman looked completely wiped out.
"You can come in now, Angel," said John.
A door suddenly appeared in the wall and Angelus stepped inside. He was a blur as he moved to the furs and had me on his lap, arms wrapped tight. His hands were moving possessively over me. He growled at the shaman. "Did it work? Is he all right?"
John nodded. "Completely out. It's in that shielded container now. You can take it back to your people to study." John shook his head. "That is one of the foulest things I've ever touched. I can tell you there's a deeper enchantment in there your people didn't find. It tried to burn me as I worked to take it out. After all the other spells triggered that...thing would have grown and curled up along his spine and into his brain. It would have made him a slave hopeless to disobey orders but left his mind intact."
That got a full-throat growl and game face from both of us. "How dare that creature..." Angelus stopped mid-sentence. "I will end him."
That was a sentiment I whole-heartedly agreed with.
E-MAIL: Salustra: goddess_salustra@juno.com
TITLE: Victory Verse 12- Risk
RATING: NC-17
PAIRING: Spike/Angelus
CONTENT: nudity; mentions of abusive control magicks.
SUMMARY: Spike and Angelus go to the shaman. Twelve in the Victory Verse. Done for tamingthemuse prompt#369- making ends not quite meet.
Distribution: Various lists, Wierd Romance Yahoo Group- http://groups.yahoo.com/group/WierdRomance ;
My livejournal - http://salustra.livejournal.com/ ; and the website Weird Romances- http://www.freewebs.com/salustra/wr/index.html . No posting elsewhere without express permission please.
SPOILERS: Through Angel S5 x08 - "Destiny"
DISCLAIMER: Playing wit the boys, but we’re just having fun. No money made, don’t sue us! (or, in more formal language-
Copyright Disclaimer I do not own any characters, products or services depicted in this story which you recognize. Original characters/characterization and plot are mine. Buffy The Vampire Slayer and Angel The Series characters are OOC and I cite section 107 of the US copyright clause on 'fair use' to be found HERE
Principally this is a transformative work, for enjoyment only, has a selective audience and I make no profit. )
FEEDBACK: Yes please.
Length: 1,141 words.
It didn't take us long to get to the shaman's office in the executive medical transport, which resembled an SUV stretch limo from the outside. We'd been ensconced comfortably in the limo portion.
I was a bit worried, to be honest, about involving an outside party. I controlled the employees of Wolfram and Hart, but not this person that was going to have Spike's unlife in his hands. And that lack of control bothered me. I was less worried about the procedure. Wesley wouldn't have recommended him if he wasn't the best.
We entered the office and it positively reeked of sage and other herbs. The walls were done in soft pastels and decorated with various pieces of Native American art. It was obviously past his normal hours as there seemed to be no one around.
It only took a moment before he appeared. He was obviously Native American. He walked barefoot and was clad simply in loose yoga pants and a half-buttoned blue shirt, with a necklace of tiny colorful beads. He was a handsome fellow with dark eyes and long dark hair. He extended his hand with a smile. "I'm John Whiteagle. You must be Angel," he said to me, shaking my hand. Then he turned. "And you must be Spike," he said, and shook Spike's hand. He had a deeply thoughtful look on his face for a moment. "Spike, I really need you to do a little ritual cleansing before we proceed. If you go down the hallway here, second door to the left, everything is set for you."
As soon as Spike was gone he turned back to me, his expression serious but serene. "I need to know from you, do you want this to work? Do you want him to come out unhurt?"
I frowned and scowled. "Of course I do."
"Then you can't be in the room." He raised a hand to stop the angry remarks I was about to make. "This is one of the most complex operations I've ever done. That thing has small tethers connecting it to an alternate dimension. It also has internal barbs sunk into the bone. I've spent the past two hours making sacred space and calling in the favors of many friendly spirits. I'm trying to do an operation while I'm also juggling chainsaws, metaphorically. And without meaning to, you can disrupt things very easily with your temper and possessiveness. I have a viewing room, heavily warded, where you can watch him."
I let out a long, slow sigh. "Very well." I didn't like it, not at all, but hell I was paying for his expertise, I should listen. Besides, nothing could go wrong with this, I wanted my boy whole.
John Whiteagle showed me to the viewing room. "Oh, one last thing, we'll both be naked. But I promise you, neither of us will be feeling any arousal. That room is soaked in damping energy."
I growled softly but settled in a thickly padded armchair. It was one-way glass evidently, looking into the 'treatment' room. Inside was a thick bed of furs, and all about where candles, incense, and various objects. I tried to relax as the shaman left and I waited to see the ritual.
~ ~ ~ ~
The ritual bath was nice. Water about as hot as I could stand, with all sorts of oils and such mixed into the water. I soaked as long as I could, and came out fragrant, warmed through, and relaxed. I toweled off and pulled on the robe left out for me. It didn't take too much time until the shaman came for me. He was so lovely and under most circumstances I would probably be flirting harmlessly with him. But right now all I could feel was this serenity that seemed to press everything else away.
He led me off into the chamber. I'd seen places like this before and this was a nice one. The energy was palpable in the room, like a heavy blanket. I shed the robe and he gestured for me to lie down. The room was eerily quiet as he picked up a brush and dipped it into something blackish and gooey and began to paint on himself, then me. I could feel the symbols working their way down my spine.
The air in the room grew thicker. I could see out of the corners of my eyes vague outlines of animals in the air. John has started chanting and the air vibrated now, and there were sparks of light. He seemed to wrap the fingers around something in the air and slice it with a ritual knife. Then he set aside the knife and the chanting grew more and more feverish.
Then I saw it, the thin scalpel-like shards that crackled into existence around me. They crossed and twisted and bent, making ends not quite meet. Whether the shards were a protection or a prison wasn't obvious and I couldn't ask the chanting shaman. Then I felt his hands enter my body. It was a ghostlike sensation, just the energy of hand-like shapes in my body, then they were out again and the shards shattered and melted away. John was still chanting as he took the object in his hands and dropped it into a crystal tube filled with liquid and pressed a metal stopped in the opening.
The feel of power was sucked out of the room in a whoosh of air. John staggered over and sat on the furs, pulling on a robe before he collapsed, laying back heavily on the furs. I took the hint and pulled on the robe I'd come in with. I was shaky but the shaman looked completely wiped out.
"You can come in now, Angel," said John.
A door suddenly appeared in the wall and Angelus stepped inside. He was a blur as he moved to the furs and had me on his lap, arms wrapped tight. His hands were moving possessively over me. He growled at the shaman. "Did it work? Is he all right?"
John nodded. "Completely out. It's in that shielded container now. You can take it back to your people to study." John shook his head. "That is one of the foulest things I've ever touched. I can tell you there's a deeper enchantment in there your people didn't find. It tried to burn me as I worked to take it out. After all the other spells triggered that...thing would have grown and curled up along his spine and into his brain. It would have made him a slave hopeless to disobey orders but left his mind intact."
That got a full-throat growl and game face from both of us. "How dare that creature..." Angelus stopped mid-sentence. "I will end him."
That was a sentiment I whole-heartedly agreed with.
