Wake Part 5
Warnings: same warnings apply.
Part 5
Part 5
The final straw came after almost two weeks of this silent war. Although the tension he felt because of it exhausted him, Giles had allowed Angel more and more time upstairs; had begun to feel that the big vampire was perhaps finally settling down and becoming used to his situation. He still found it hard to get a handle on exactly what made the creature tick. Angel was undoubtedly far more animal-like than Spike, but there were flashes of the human there at times, although not perhaps of a very likeable human. He began to suspect that Angel had not got on well with his own father; that, in fact, he had even looked down on him in some way. It might explain his insolence.
One day, when it rained heavily, he allowed the two vampires outside in the sunless daylight, standing on the back porch watching them as they chased each other round the garden and up trees, the rain sluicing silver down their bare torsos. He had to admit that they were beautiful together, the dark and the pale such a strong contrast. He thought of Apollo and Hermes, then of Zeus and Ganymede, which was possibly more apt but pleased him less. When he called them back in, they came very reluctantly -and Angel probably only at all because of Spike- licking the rain off each other and purring like steam engines. Angel’s big, heavy cock seemed half-erect as usual (though Giles had come to realise that this was simply because of its size), his whole body looking so potent and alive that Giles felt like he himself was the dead man in comparison. It made him feel old and impotent and angry. He did not repeat the experiment.
Then one day he came down from his study to find the two vampires curled up together on the couch in front of the television, giggling like silly schoolboys. When they saw Giles coming, they stopped for a moment, then looked at each other and began to giggle again. Giles felt, crossly, that he was the butt of some particularly stupid joke, but had no idea what it was. When the giggling stopped, he became aware of Angel’s dark, speculative gaze, full of a simple, predatory intelligence, fixed on him, while he ran his tongue down Spike’s quiescent face, making that strange, deep rumbling sound in his chest. Giles snapped his fingers impatiently for Spike to come to him and was less than pleased when his pet took his time about it.
Annoyed, he seized Spike roughly by the arm and dragged him out of Angel’s grip, unable to take his gaze away from the big vampire’s hot, contemptuous stare. Overcome by an urgent need to show Angel who was really in control here, Giles without more ado, grabbed Spike by the scruff of the neck and bent him over the couch arm, pulling down his sweatpants to reveal the welt-covered backside. The wounds had long since healed up, of course, but the scars were taking quite some time to disappear; longer than they should, Giles thought. Thrusting his fingers roughly into Spike’s mouth, he felt his pet begin to suck on them, as taught, coating them thoroughly with saliva. Feeling the fingers wet enough, he pulled them back out with an audible popping sound, leaving Spike gaping after them in surprise. Then he parted the vampire’s pale cheeks and arrowed the slick fingers brutally into the dry, little hole beneath. Spike shrieked in pain, his voice rising and then lowering to a continuous hurt whimper as Giles attempted to push his half-hard cock in as well. It took him several minutes to realise that it was useless. Normally, the sight of those perfect, marble-smooth cheeks and the treasure that lay between them was enough to get him hard enough to penetrate, even if he could not then ‘complete’. Not this time. Whether it was the still-visible scarring on his pet, or simply Angel’s unwavering gaze, Giles’s cock refused to co-operate. It remained stubbornly limp and at half mast. In the end, with a cry of frustration, he withdrew his scissoring fingers, displeased to see they were now coated with blood (he must have been rougher than he realised) and tucked himself away. Spike lay limply where Giles had positioned him, a thin trickle of blood running down his leg, obviously afraid to move, but Giles found that offering the vampire comfort was the last thing on his mind. Instead, he strode off to the bathroom to wash his hands, returning to find that Spike had climbed back on the couch and was firmly wrapped in Angel’s arms, the bigger vampire licking his face and neck with long rasps of his tongue.
The sight made Giles even more furious, but he no longer trusted himself to be near the two vampires. Pausing only to check that Angel was still securely chained to the nearest bolt in the wall (although Spike was not) he went straight back upstairs to his study and slammed the door shut behind him. With shaking hands, he poured himself a large glass of scotch and drank it down in one, then poured another and slumped down in the desk chair, wearily removing his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He knew that he had lost face in front of Angel - if he had ever had much to start with - and that bringing him here had been a very big mistake. He was a pernicious influence on Spike, was poisoning the relationship between Spike and his master; was, in fact, a troublemaker. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to be Angel’s father and felt sorry for the long-dead man. He could picture endless vicious arguments, with long sullen silences in between. In fact, he now realised, Angel had probably been very much like he himself had been as a youth, remembering those horrible rows with Father, which had ended with the old man telling him bitterly that he’d come to no good one day. He wondered if Angel had flaunted his overpowering sexuality in front of his father, the way he was doing to him. That wouldn’t have gone down well in those times, not in rural Ireland. What a disappointment he must have been.
Having thought the thought, Giles couldn’t then remember if he’d been thinking about Angel, or himself. Angrily, he shrugged off the idea that there could be any similarities between him and that over-sexualised monster. No, he had made a mistake. The only way to make good was to write up his speculations up to this point, and then put Angel down like the mad dog he obviously was at heart. He would give Spike a sedative and lock him away while he did it, and his pet would soon forget that Angel had ever even existed. Things might be a little shaky for a while, but he was sure he would soon have his gentle, biddable little vampire at his beck and call again. After all, where else could Spike go? He had no one but Giles.
He meant to finish the writing up right there and then, but the scotch had made him sleepy, on top of his ongoing exhaustion, and he soon found himself succumbing to it. Angel was chained, the only key safe in Giles’s pocket. Spike was docile and was very unlikely to stray far from Angel. They wouldn’t cause any trouble.
Part 5
Part 5
The final straw came after almost two weeks of this silent war. Although the tension he felt because of it exhausted him, Giles had allowed Angel more and more time upstairs; had begun to feel that the big vampire was perhaps finally settling down and becoming used to his situation. He still found it hard to get a handle on exactly what made the creature tick. Angel was undoubtedly far more animal-like than Spike, but there were flashes of the human there at times, although not perhaps of a very likeable human. He began to suspect that Angel had not got on well with his own father; that, in fact, he had even looked down on him in some way. It might explain his insolence.
One day, when it rained heavily, he allowed the two vampires outside in the sunless daylight, standing on the back porch watching them as they chased each other round the garden and up trees, the rain sluicing silver down their bare torsos. He had to admit that they were beautiful together, the dark and the pale such a strong contrast. He thought of Apollo and Hermes, then of Zeus and Ganymede, which was possibly more apt but pleased him less. When he called them back in, they came very reluctantly -and Angel probably only at all because of Spike- licking the rain off each other and purring like steam engines. Angel’s big, heavy cock seemed half-erect as usual (though Giles had come to realise that this was simply because of its size), his whole body looking so potent and alive that Giles felt like he himself was the dead man in comparison. It made him feel old and impotent and angry. He did not repeat the experiment.
Then one day he came down from his study to find the two vampires curled up together on the couch in front of the television, giggling like silly schoolboys. When they saw Giles coming, they stopped for a moment, then looked at each other and began to giggle again. Giles felt, crossly, that he was the butt of some particularly stupid joke, but had no idea what it was. When the giggling stopped, he became aware of Angel’s dark, speculative gaze, full of a simple, predatory intelligence, fixed on him, while he ran his tongue down Spike’s quiescent face, making that strange, deep rumbling sound in his chest. Giles snapped his fingers impatiently for Spike to come to him and was less than pleased when his pet took his time about it.
Annoyed, he seized Spike roughly by the arm and dragged him out of Angel’s grip, unable to take his gaze away from the big vampire’s hot, contemptuous stare. Overcome by an urgent need to show Angel who was really in control here, Giles without more ado, grabbed Spike by the scruff of the neck and bent him over the couch arm, pulling down his sweatpants to reveal the welt-covered backside. The wounds had long since healed up, of course, but the scars were taking quite some time to disappear; longer than they should, Giles thought. Thrusting his fingers roughly into Spike’s mouth, he felt his pet begin to suck on them, as taught, coating them thoroughly with saliva. Feeling the fingers wet enough, he pulled them back out with an audible popping sound, leaving Spike gaping after them in surprise. Then he parted the vampire’s pale cheeks and arrowed the slick fingers brutally into the dry, little hole beneath. Spike shrieked in pain, his voice rising and then lowering to a continuous hurt whimper as Giles attempted to push his half-hard cock in as well. It took him several minutes to realise that it was useless. Normally, the sight of those perfect, marble-smooth cheeks and the treasure that lay between them was enough to get him hard enough to penetrate, even if he could not then ‘complete’. Not this time. Whether it was the still-visible scarring on his pet, or simply Angel’s unwavering gaze, Giles’s cock refused to co-operate. It remained stubbornly limp and at half mast. In the end, with a cry of frustration, he withdrew his scissoring fingers, displeased to see they were now coated with blood (he must have been rougher than he realised) and tucked himself away. Spike lay limply where Giles had positioned him, a thin trickle of blood running down his leg, obviously afraid to move, but Giles found that offering the vampire comfort was the last thing on his mind. Instead, he strode off to the bathroom to wash his hands, returning to find that Spike had climbed back on the couch and was firmly wrapped in Angel’s arms, the bigger vampire licking his face and neck with long rasps of his tongue.
The sight made Giles even more furious, but he no longer trusted himself to be near the two vampires. Pausing only to check that Angel was still securely chained to the nearest bolt in the wall (although Spike was not) he went straight back upstairs to his study and slammed the door shut behind him. With shaking hands, he poured himself a large glass of scotch and drank it down in one, then poured another and slumped down in the desk chair, wearily removing his glasses and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. He knew that he had lost face in front of Angel - if he had ever had much to start with - and that bringing him here had been a very big mistake. He was a pernicious influence on Spike, was poisoning the relationship between Spike and his master; was, in fact, a troublemaker. He tried to imagine what it would have been like to be Angel’s father and felt sorry for the long-dead man. He could picture endless vicious arguments, with long sullen silences in between. In fact, he now realised, Angel had probably been very much like he himself had been as a youth, remembering those horrible rows with Father, which had ended with the old man telling him bitterly that he’d come to no good one day. He wondered if Angel had flaunted his overpowering sexuality in front of his father, the way he was doing to him. That wouldn’t have gone down well in those times, not in rural Ireland. What a disappointment he must have been.
Having thought the thought, Giles couldn’t then remember if he’d been thinking about Angel, or himself. Angrily, he shrugged off the idea that there could be any similarities between him and that over-sexualised monster. No, he had made a mistake. The only way to make good was to write up his speculations up to this point, and then put Angel down like the mad dog he obviously was at heart. He would give Spike a sedative and lock him away while he did it, and his pet would soon forget that Angel had ever even existed. Things might be a little shaky for a while, but he was sure he would soon have his gentle, biddable little vampire at his beck and call again. After all, where else could Spike go? He had no one but Giles.
He meant to finish the writing up right there and then, but the scotch had made him sleepy, on top of his ongoing exhaustion, and he soon found himself succumbing to it. Angel was chained, the only key safe in Giles’s pocket. Spike was docile and was very unlikely to stray far from Angel. They wouldn’t cause any trouble.