Longing
Another indigo_crypt creation. tamakin put a manip here and I made a fic inspired by it. Join the comm!!! You know you wanna!
Hey!! This fic won an award!!
Title: Longing
Pairings: N/A (Kinda Spangel, but not really, but okay... kinda Spangel... but not really... but kinda... well, whatever! Read and see!)
Appropriate Ratings: R
Warnings: non-con, torture, mind fucks...
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Not all rewards are for the best.
Word Count: 1530 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: Tamakin84, any errors are mine and mine alone.
X-posted to: perverted_pages, A_darker_angel, darker_spike, indigo_crypt, btvs_lightsout, Spike_fics, tortured_Spike, btvsatsdotcom, darker_vault
Archived Outside LJ At: fanfiction.net , adultfanfiction.netand My IJ
Comments make me smile, and keep the muse going!
Non-worksafe banner beneath the cut. No danglies.
Spike curled up on his side, and stared dully upwards at his pale hand playing in the single thin band of sunlight, the only sunlight he ever saw. It was funny, he’d spent well over a century without seeing the sun, without having any pangs of remorse over never seeing it again, nothing… but now that he finally could… it was all he could think about.
He remembered vividly the fight in the alley, Gun falling from blood loss shortly after the beginning and Illyria’s majestic fight. She’d shone like a star, a faint blue corona covering her body as she fought onwards, her targeted foes falling in brilliant sprays of multicolored blood arching and splashing on all those near. Spike had admired her form, her movements and grace, he’d even idly wondered if his status as her “pet” would entail any lovely fringe benefits before he turned back to the battle at hand.
The Slayers came to the rescue, swarming the streets and buildings in a fighting fury. Without them, Spike knew they would have easily been overpowered. It was just the two of them. Angel had gone off fighting that bloody dragon instead of watching Spike’s back, like a good fighting partner should!
There was a type of demon there that didn’t quite die so much as got sucked back to its hell dimension when it was too wounded to fight on. Nifty trick really, because it meant they usually took down the one they were fighting with them… which is what happened to Illyria. They learned about that death curse from her sacrifice and thankfully those demons were few and far between. They only lost two slayers into that swirling vortex, the rest either springing clear just in time or doing the damage over a longer distance.
They’d left after the fighting was finally over, leaving the vampiric duo to lick their wounds in peace. Spike had been too wounded to move on his own, something had clawed out the meaty part of his thighs, but Angel had picked him up, almost tenderly and carried him to a car he’d managed to liberate from Wolfram and Hart. Angel drove night and day till they reached a cabin in the middle of a forest with nothing around for miles. Angel nursed him back to health, and for once Spike didn’t respond with snarky biting answers. He was too deeply in shock.
Angel nursed him back to health, even gave Spike his own blood to drink to help speed the healing process, and it worked. Spike healed quickly and was soon tottering around on canes, determined to get back to his old self as quickly as possible. That’s when things went sideways.
Angel remembered everything. He ran through the fight, his plans, his reasons, constantly. He kept trying to come at it from a different angle, something he’d forgotten or should have taken extra precaution around, grasping at straws. He fantasized about trying to go back in time, to fix things, to not make the same mistakes again. He never left their reclusive cabin, but instead spent every waking moment brooding or caring for the only one he had left.
He remembered when Spike suddenly sat up in the bed, gasping for air, heart thudding heavy and quick in his chest… he was alive. The Powers That Be had allowed Spike’s vampiric body to heal the damage and turned him human for his reward. Spike was now human, vulnerable, weak.
Spike remembered the burning pain in his chest when his heart started and the pain that came after that told him he had to breathe. He was ALIVE! He got up and danced a little jig and hugged Angel in surprised glee… and then Angel had punched him out.
Spike had woken up at the bottom of the old dry well, shivering and naked. The heavy stone cover was mostly on, leaving just a tiny curved sliver of sky visible. Daylight trickled in to his prison, teasing him with how close yet far away it was. He’d tried to climb up a few times but had only gotten up so far before his pitiful human strength gave out. Besides, he couldn’t lift the heavy stone cover off even if he made it to the top… but it would have been worth it, to see the sky, once… just once.
He’d spent the first day cold and shivering, his stomach burbling loudly for food, water, anything. He couldn’t understand what had happened, why he’d been put in this filthy pit in the back yard of the cabin. He’d screamed at first, yelling for Angel to let him out, to put down a rope, give him a ladder, anything.
After a while he began to think Angel was gone, maybe The Powers That Be fucked something up and took Angel’s soul by accident, or on purpose. Maybe Angelus was the one pulling the strings, torturing him, making him pay for getting his life back, for fucking his girl.
That first day, alone in the well, he went through so many emotions. Elation that he’d been proven worthy, fear and terror of what Angel (Angelus?) would do to him, boredom, longing and loneliness, aching for a companion.
Angel kept him fed and watered, slung down baskets filled with bathing products and then bucket after bucket of hot water. He wasn’t allowed to keep the towels or to have a pillow or blanket. His food was always something he could easily eat from an old wooden bowl without utensils which he always put back in the bucket to be taken away again.
Every night Angel would come and spend time with him, sometimes turning the television on loud enough to be heard in the pit when he wasn’t around, other times he’d turn on the radio, or put in a CD he thought Spike would like.
At first Spike thought he could easily stand up to this kind of torture. He was Spike! He’d done much worse, survived much worse, this wasn’t so bad… except when it was. He kept forgetting he was human, no longer a demon, no longer a beast of the night, and he had human weakness’ that Angel… Angelus… took advantage of… except he wasn’t really.
Every day he’d watch that single sliver of light dance it’s limited path through the dark dank confines of the well. Every day he’d cry just a few more tears. Every day he died a little more inside. He just wanted to see the sun, just once, to breathe fresh air and see clouds dancing in the pale blue sky… he just wanted to be able to live. He’d earned that, he’d been shown he’d earned that… why was he never allowed to be what he was meant to be?
He’d been a poet that wasn’t, a demon that had to be beaten and raped till he was demon enough for his Sire, he’d been a consort to his dark princess who hadn’t wanted him, he’d loved his Slayer and been denied her, he’d gotten his soul and was never trusted with it never accepted with it. And now, here he was, human, but unable to BE human. Why couldn’t he just… be what he was for once? Just for once! Please, just once? He screamed his plea into the dully echoing confines of the well until his throat was raw and his voice was but a whisper… and never once got an answer.
In his own weird and twisted way the vampire was trying to pamper Spike, give him everything he could to the poor helpless creature in need of protection. Angel wasn’t going to loose anyone ever again, and if that meant that the last person he had had to be protected from the world, so be it. Angel had no choice you see, Spike was human and therefore weak and vulnerable. He never would have survived those wounds if he was human, even the PTB knew that, so they waited till he was healed. Spike couldn’t be trusted not to jump into the fray to save an innocent life, he’d always want to do the noble thing, so he’d had no choice.
He’d seen the spark of life in his darling William’s eyes and he couldn’t bear to think of what this meant, that he could die, that he would die. He knew Spike wouldn’t accept being sired again, knew how hard he’d fought for his soul and how proud he was. Angel knew… knew he was going to loose the only person he loved. Dru was gone, Buffy killed by a hit and run driver, Gunn, Wesley, Cordy, Fred… everyone he’d grown to love was gone, dead. No one was left but his darling Will… and he’d take care of him. You’ll see, he’d take such good care of him and no thing would ever happen to him, he’d be protected for as long as he lived.
It was best this way, really… always best to be protected and loved then let the world take yet another person away from him.
Really… it was better this way… for everyone.
Hey!! This fic won an award!!
Title: Longing
Pairings: N/A (Kinda Spangel, but not really, but okay... kinda Spangel... but not really... but kinda... well, whatever! Read and see!)
Appropriate Ratings: R
Warnings: non-con, torture, mind fucks...
Disclaimers: Not my characters. I make no money off this, I'm just playing. I promise to give them a bath and thorough cleaning when I’m done! Joss Whedon is my lord and Master. All hail Joss Whedon.
Short Summary: Not all rewards are for the best.
Word Count: 1530 (As per MS Word Count)
Beta: Tamakin84, any errors are mine and mine alone.
X-posted to: perverted_pages, A_darker_angel, darker_spike, indigo_crypt, btvs_lightsout, Spike_fics, tortured_Spike, btvsatsdotcom, darker_vault
Archived Outside LJ At: fanfiction.net , adultfanfiction.netand My IJ
Comments make me smile, and keep the muse going!
Non-worksafe banner beneath the cut. No danglies.
Spike curled up on his side, and stared dully upwards at his pale hand playing in the single thin band of sunlight, the only sunlight he ever saw. It was funny, he’d spent well over a century without seeing the sun, without having any pangs of remorse over never seeing it again, nothing… but now that he finally could… it was all he could think about.
He remembered vividly the fight in the alley, Gun falling from blood loss shortly after the beginning and Illyria’s majestic fight. She’d shone like a star, a faint blue corona covering her body as she fought onwards, her targeted foes falling in brilliant sprays of multicolored blood arching and splashing on all those near. Spike had admired her form, her movements and grace, he’d even idly wondered if his status as her “pet” would entail any lovely fringe benefits before he turned back to the battle at hand.
The Slayers came to the rescue, swarming the streets and buildings in a fighting fury. Without them, Spike knew they would have easily been overpowered. It was just the two of them. Angel had gone off fighting that bloody dragon instead of watching Spike’s back, like a good fighting partner should!
There was a type of demon there that didn’t quite die so much as got sucked back to its hell dimension when it was too wounded to fight on. Nifty trick really, because it meant they usually took down the one they were fighting with them… which is what happened to Illyria. They learned about that death curse from her sacrifice and thankfully those demons were few and far between. They only lost two slayers into that swirling vortex, the rest either springing clear just in time or doing the damage over a longer distance.
They’d left after the fighting was finally over, leaving the vampiric duo to lick their wounds in peace. Spike had been too wounded to move on his own, something had clawed out the meaty part of his thighs, but Angel had picked him up, almost tenderly and carried him to a car he’d managed to liberate from Wolfram and Hart. Angel drove night and day till they reached a cabin in the middle of a forest with nothing around for miles. Angel nursed him back to health, and for once Spike didn’t respond with snarky biting answers. He was too deeply in shock.
Angel nursed him back to health, even gave Spike his own blood to drink to help speed the healing process, and it worked. Spike healed quickly and was soon tottering around on canes, determined to get back to his old self as quickly as possible. That’s when things went sideways.
Angel remembered everything. He ran through the fight, his plans, his reasons, constantly. He kept trying to come at it from a different angle, something he’d forgotten or should have taken extra precaution around, grasping at straws. He fantasized about trying to go back in time, to fix things, to not make the same mistakes again. He never left their reclusive cabin, but instead spent every waking moment brooding or caring for the only one he had left.
He remembered when Spike suddenly sat up in the bed, gasping for air, heart thudding heavy and quick in his chest… he was alive. The Powers That Be had allowed Spike’s vampiric body to heal the damage and turned him human for his reward. Spike was now human, vulnerable, weak.
Spike remembered the burning pain in his chest when his heart started and the pain that came after that told him he had to breathe. He was ALIVE! He got up and danced a little jig and hugged Angel in surprised glee… and then Angel had punched him out.
Spike had woken up at the bottom of the old dry well, shivering and naked. The heavy stone cover was mostly on, leaving just a tiny curved sliver of sky visible. Daylight trickled in to his prison, teasing him with how close yet far away it was. He’d tried to climb up a few times but had only gotten up so far before his pitiful human strength gave out. Besides, he couldn’t lift the heavy stone cover off even if he made it to the top… but it would have been worth it, to see the sky, once… just once.
He’d spent the first day cold and shivering, his stomach burbling loudly for food, water, anything. He couldn’t understand what had happened, why he’d been put in this filthy pit in the back yard of the cabin. He’d screamed at first, yelling for Angel to let him out, to put down a rope, give him a ladder, anything.
After a while he began to think Angel was gone, maybe The Powers That Be fucked something up and took Angel’s soul by accident, or on purpose. Maybe Angelus was the one pulling the strings, torturing him, making him pay for getting his life back, for fucking his girl.
That first day, alone in the well, he went through so many emotions. Elation that he’d been proven worthy, fear and terror of what Angel (Angelus?) would do to him, boredom, longing and loneliness, aching for a companion.
Angel kept him fed and watered, slung down baskets filled with bathing products and then bucket after bucket of hot water. He wasn’t allowed to keep the towels or to have a pillow or blanket. His food was always something he could easily eat from an old wooden bowl without utensils which he always put back in the bucket to be taken away again.
Every night Angel would come and spend time with him, sometimes turning the television on loud enough to be heard in the pit when he wasn’t around, other times he’d turn on the radio, or put in a CD he thought Spike would like.
At first Spike thought he could easily stand up to this kind of torture. He was Spike! He’d done much worse, survived much worse, this wasn’t so bad… except when it was. He kept forgetting he was human, no longer a demon, no longer a beast of the night, and he had human weakness’ that Angel… Angelus… took advantage of… except he wasn’t really.
Every day he’d watch that single sliver of light dance it’s limited path through the dark dank confines of the well. Every day he’d cry just a few more tears. Every day he died a little more inside. He just wanted to see the sun, just once, to breathe fresh air and see clouds dancing in the pale blue sky… he just wanted to be able to live. He’d earned that, he’d been shown he’d earned that… why was he never allowed to be what he was meant to be?
He’d been a poet that wasn’t, a demon that had to be beaten and raped till he was demon enough for his Sire, he’d been a consort to his dark princess who hadn’t wanted him, he’d loved his Slayer and been denied her, he’d gotten his soul and was never trusted with it never accepted with it. And now, here he was, human, but unable to BE human. Why couldn’t he just… be what he was for once? Just for once! Please, just once? He screamed his plea into the dully echoing confines of the well until his throat was raw and his voice was but a whisper… and never once got an answer.
In his own weird and twisted way the vampire was trying to pamper Spike, give him everything he could to the poor helpless creature in need of protection. Angel wasn’t going to loose anyone ever again, and if that meant that the last person he had had to be protected from the world, so be it. Angel had no choice you see, Spike was human and therefore weak and vulnerable. He never would have survived those wounds if he was human, even the PTB knew that, so they waited till he was healed. Spike couldn’t be trusted not to jump into the fray to save an innocent life, he’d always want to do the noble thing, so he’d had no choice.
He’d seen the spark of life in his darling William’s eyes and he couldn’t bear to think of what this meant, that he could die, that he would die. He knew Spike wouldn’t accept being sired again, knew how hard he’d fought for his soul and how proud he was. Angel knew… knew he was going to loose the only person he loved. Dru was gone, Buffy killed by a hit and run driver, Gunn, Wesley, Cordy, Fred… everyone he’d grown to love was gone, dead. No one was left but his darling Will… and he’d take care of him. You’ll see, he’d take such good care of him and no thing would ever happen to him, he’d be protected for as long as he lived.
It was best this way, really… always best to be protected and loved then let the world take yet another person away from him.
Really… it was better this way… for everyone.