Wicked is as Wicked Does
Wicked Is As Wicked Does
Author: FemailoftheSpecies
Disclaimer: The IRS took it all. I own nothing!
Distro: WWOMB, WLS, RedsSoulmates, Mystifying Dreams, NHA,Writings of the Femail, My LJ, anyone else I told yeah and just can't remember now.
Rating: Adult
Spoilers: Season 4 BTVS, Season 1 Angel
Summary: Spike did get captured by the Initiative, but escaped, just as angry, before they chipped him. You know what happened next!
Warnings: Violence, some torture, bloodplay and sex. It's all here and more. Be warned
A/N - Dru who? Angel is Spike's Sire, dang it!
Thanks to jennillu and Kat for the beta!
Feedback - Please send it on!
~~~~~~~~
Chapter 46
Cordelia’s eyes moved from left to right to left to right, staring almost hypnotized by the brunette vampire’s pacing. To his credit, Angel was explaining the benefits of frugal shopping and the wise use of credit and how a personal masseuse did not fit into either category. She had her own opinions on the matter, but kept them to herself while he droned on.
“And it took me a while to get it, but eventually I made the connection between late payments and higher interest rates.”
He faced her, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, a hopeful look on his angelic features.
“Angel, it’s Christmas in three days and I have no tree, no presents, no dinner plans and I’m stuck here with your dentally challenged family. If I want a massage, I’ll have a massage. And you’re paying for it!” She thumped him in the chest for emphasis, unaware of just how close the demon in him was to surfacing.
Angelus just adored this creature when she got like this and filled Angel’s overactive imagination with visions of whips and blood and begging each time she reared up on him. Now that he had claimed her, bedded her, the subject matter was more iniquitous than ever.
Suppressing the growl with considerable effort, he snatched her hand in mid-poke and pulled her to him.
“Please, Cordy, for your sake, stop challenging me. I can’t keep it together much longer.” Dropping her hand, he stormed out before she did anything to further inflame the situation.
“Hey!” Angel yelled. Willow and Eric froze at the door, caught like deer in headlights. “Where do you two think you’re going?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I...uh...” She didn’t have an excuse prepared because frankly she expected her grandsire and his newly claimed toy were about to have sex or something after the boring lecture he forced the seer to listen to. “A walk?” Her eyebrow went up as she bit her bottom lip.
“Get back inside,” Angel ordered. Glancing around, he asked, “Where the hell is Wes?”
The two young vampires glanced at each other and by silent agreement Eric went to the balcony, returning with a trussed up ex-watcher.
“You tied him up why?” He was outwardly calm, but the little redhead knew better than to let that lull her into a sense of security. Spike was nowhere around and she was so very busted.
“He was going on about how I had to stay in and I just knew he would go bother you. So I thought, hey, maybe if I tie him up, then Grandsire can get some and not be a sexually frustrated, moody vamp.”
He sighed, wondering if being an annoying little fledge was genetic. “Willow, I don’t need you to make sure I ‘get some.’”
“Right, cuz you’re fucking my Sire now and he spends all his time sucking-“
“Willow!” She jumped, as did Eric who was busy removing the gag from Wesley’s mouth. The ropes were tossed carelessly to the floor, giving Angel an idea. “Stop this now. One more outburst, touch Wes again, try to leave and I’ll tie you up and beat you myself. And trust me...you won’t recover for a week if I get ahold of your pretty little ass.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death.
Spike took more pleasure in dealing it than most. Today was no exception, and while he tossed the two corpses into the bushes, he hummed a little Ramones tune, vowing to stop at a record store before returning to the hotel. Angel had poncy crap for music, and if he was going to be stuck all day in that place he needed something to help pass the time.
Shagging Willow and Wesley was always good for about three or four of those long daytime hours, but she was young and he was human and they had only so much endurance. Somehow he predicted that his own sire would be wrapped up in a leggy seer and doubted he would be invited to that party...yet.
Satisfied with his cover-up efforts, he slipped into the shadows and made his way back to Kate’s little home. Everything was dark again inside and as he leaped the fence to the backyard he smiled. It had been a while since he had broken into a home and slaughtered its resident. A bold thrill shook his body, the demon rearing its evil, insatiable head. He let the power that he contained come out and peeked into a window, listening hard.
Kate was asleep. Her breathing told him that. With a silence that belonged to his kind alone he broke the lock on the back door and entered, undeterred by a barrier that was no longer there for him, and found himself in her kitchen. Taking in the details of the room, he quickly removed the knives and anything sharp or that poked deep from sight in case she got to running. Under the sink seemed as good a place as any. He did keep one, small, but wickedly sharp paring knife, dropping it into one of his pockets as he strolled toward her bedroom.
It always amazed his that humans slept so soundly when they were so terribly vulnerable. Without fail he entered home after home, much as he did tonight, and the occupants remained blissfully unconscious until he woke them. Sometimes he actually had to nudge the silly victim and wait for the fog to lift before getting the hefty dose of fear he was after. Those were the days when he wondered at the worthiness of it all.
And now, this lovely creature, dangerous in her own way, was sleeping like a baby, even as he lit a cigarette and settled into the chair to watch her for a while.
Her likeness to Darla, not so much feature-wise, but in haughty self-importance and crisp, precise judgment, was the appeal. It drew his sire in like the proverbial moth to the flame. Fortunately, good ole Spike was here to ensure Angelus did not get burned. He planned to snuff out that flame before anymore damage could be done.
His mind drifted to that folder and he stood quickly leaving her in favor of a hunt. He roamed from her room quietly and found what he was looking for quickly. She hadn’t bothered to hide it, so secure she was in her own domain. He chuckled and shook his head while opening he file. The picture of Willow was on top, now attached to another smaller piece of paper by a clip. It was hand-written notes and he recognized them as some of the pseudo-suggestions Angel had provided to her earlier that night. Underneath that was a larger paper, this one filled with more hand-written details of a conversation or meeting. He skimmed over the page, frowning when he saw the name Walsh. There was a copy of two police reports, composed by her as well, dictating the details of his childe’s antics. He breezed through those, seeing nothing that caught his eye, and turned to the last item in the folder.
Almost shocked, but not really, he let his features settle into a grin. He did not get to see himself often and was glad to confirm what he had always believed: He was a handsome bloke.
“Well, well,” he whispered. “Looks like our dear detective knows much more than she's been saying.” File in hand, he stalked his way to her room and sat on her bed without ceremony.
“Kate. Wake up, ducks,” he demanded in a low gravelly voice, shaking the pillow under her head.
She did, sitting up and drawing away from the danger instantly. “William. What are you doing her? Get out.” Her hand slipped under the covers, almost imperceptible. Almost.
His hand got there first, removing her gun.
He smile and held it out toward her. “Looking for this?” His face melted into a perfected pout. “You wouldn’t want to hurt me now, would you, Kate. We’re all friends here, right?”
Her eyes shifted between him and the gun as she nodded. “Yeah, friends. Where’s Angel?”
“Right now, probably shagging that cheerleader of his. She is a luscious thing. Not that you’re not a delicious creature yourself. But I’m not here to talk about that. Not now, at least. Later though, you can demonstrate the more charming aspects of your personality, yeah?”
“What the fuck do you want?” The hard edge of her voice was betrayed by the trembling that filtered through. She was angry and scared, and angry because she was scared. Her carefully constructed control was in danger of being shattered, and the things she dared not fathom were pounding on her door, demanding that they be let in and perceived, understood, believed.
He held up the picture of him. “Tell me a story, Kate. And it better be good.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander sat on Willow’s bed, one hand running over the soft comforter as he held her pillow to his nose with the other. He fancied he could still smell her in these things and in some primordial way he probably could. Buffy watched him compassionately as this was something she did every night.
“So Riley know what’s happened to her and now you wanna tell them where she is?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want to, but what choice do we have? They’re killing people. She’s killing people. A lot of people.”
He closed his eyes, burying himself deeper into the not so imagined scents, and shook his head.
“No.”
“No?”
“Yeah, no....Willow is...was my friend forever. I don’t care if she’s a demon. I can’t let her go. I did that once and I can’t. Not again.”
Stretching out on the bed, he waited for the inevitable speech. In his mind he had already been over anything Buffy could say, and he knew what the right, logical choice was, but this was Willow and his heart ruled things concerning her. He was prepared to leave her alone and protect her from this Initiative as long as she stayed away from Sunnydale. Even then, he could not predict his reaction, but doubted that he could stake her. He loved her.
“I know,” Buffy replied, obviously not willing to make the arguments needed to get him to agree to the destruction of the redhead. “I can’t either.” She also knew that giving Willow and Spike up meant endangering Angel. That was another reason for her inability to do her job. She would talk to Angel tomorrow and try to convince him to make his evil little family leave the country, or at least the state.
Author: FemailoftheSpecies
Disclaimer: The IRS took it all. I own nothing!
Distro: WWOMB, WLS, RedsSoulmates, Mystifying Dreams, NHA,Writings of the Femail, My LJ, anyone else I told yeah and just can't remember now.
Rating: Adult
Spoilers: Season 4 BTVS, Season 1 Angel
Summary: Spike did get captured by the Initiative, but escaped, just as angry, before they chipped him. You know what happened next!
Warnings: Violence, some torture, bloodplay and sex. It's all here and more. Be warned
A/N - Dru who? Angel is Spike's Sire, dang it!
Thanks to jennillu and Kat for the beta!
Feedback - Please send it on!
~~~~~~~~
Chapter 46
Cordelia’s eyes moved from left to right to left to right, staring almost hypnotized by the brunette vampire’s pacing. To his credit, Angel was explaining the benefits of frugal shopping and the wise use of credit and how a personal masseuse did not fit into either category. She had her own opinions on the matter, but kept them to herself while he droned on.
“And it took me a while to get it, but eventually I made the connection between late payments and higher interest rates.”
He faced her, shoving his hands in his pants pockets, a hopeful look on his angelic features.
“Angel, it’s Christmas in three days and I have no tree, no presents, no dinner plans and I’m stuck here with your dentally challenged family. If I want a massage, I’ll have a massage. And you’re paying for it!” She thumped him in the chest for emphasis, unaware of just how close the demon in him was to surfacing.
Angelus just adored this creature when she got like this and filled Angel’s overactive imagination with visions of whips and blood and begging each time she reared up on him. Now that he had claimed her, bedded her, the subject matter was more iniquitous than ever.
Suppressing the growl with considerable effort, he snatched her hand in mid-poke and pulled her to him.
“Please, Cordy, for your sake, stop challenging me. I can’t keep it together much longer.” Dropping her hand, he stormed out before she did anything to further inflame the situation.
“Hey!” Angel yelled. Willow and Eric froze at the door, caught like deer in headlights. “Where do you two think you’re going?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.
“I...uh...” She didn’t have an excuse prepared because frankly she expected her grandsire and his newly claimed toy were about to have sex or something after the boring lecture he forced the seer to listen to. “A walk?” Her eyebrow went up as she bit her bottom lip.
“Get back inside,” Angel ordered. Glancing around, he asked, “Where the hell is Wes?”
The two young vampires glanced at each other and by silent agreement Eric went to the balcony, returning with a trussed up ex-watcher.
“You tied him up why?” He was outwardly calm, but the little redhead knew better than to let that lull her into a sense of security. Spike was nowhere around and she was so very busted.
“He was going on about how I had to stay in and I just knew he would go bother you. So I thought, hey, maybe if I tie him up, then Grandsire can get some and not be a sexually frustrated, moody vamp.”
He sighed, wondering if being an annoying little fledge was genetic. “Willow, I don’t need you to make sure I ‘get some.’”
“Right, cuz you’re fucking my Sire now and he spends all his time sucking-“
“Willow!” She jumped, as did Eric who was busy removing the gag from Wesley’s mouth. The ropes were tossed carelessly to the floor, giving Angel an idea. “Stop this now. One more outburst, touch Wes again, try to leave and I’ll tie you up and beat you myself. And trust me...you won’t recover for a week if I get ahold of your pretty little ass.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Death.
Spike took more pleasure in dealing it than most. Today was no exception, and while he tossed the two corpses into the bushes, he hummed a little Ramones tune, vowing to stop at a record store before returning to the hotel. Angel had poncy crap for music, and if he was going to be stuck all day in that place he needed something to help pass the time.
Shagging Willow and Wesley was always good for about three or four of those long daytime hours, but she was young and he was human and they had only so much endurance. Somehow he predicted that his own sire would be wrapped up in a leggy seer and doubted he would be invited to that party...yet.
Satisfied with his cover-up efforts, he slipped into the shadows and made his way back to Kate’s little home. Everything was dark again inside and as he leaped the fence to the backyard he smiled. It had been a while since he had broken into a home and slaughtered its resident. A bold thrill shook his body, the demon rearing its evil, insatiable head. He let the power that he contained come out and peeked into a window, listening hard.
Kate was asleep. Her breathing told him that. With a silence that belonged to his kind alone he broke the lock on the back door and entered, undeterred by a barrier that was no longer there for him, and found himself in her kitchen. Taking in the details of the room, he quickly removed the knives and anything sharp or that poked deep from sight in case she got to running. Under the sink seemed as good a place as any. He did keep one, small, but wickedly sharp paring knife, dropping it into one of his pockets as he strolled toward her bedroom.
It always amazed his that humans slept so soundly when they were so terribly vulnerable. Without fail he entered home after home, much as he did tonight, and the occupants remained blissfully unconscious until he woke them. Sometimes he actually had to nudge the silly victim and wait for the fog to lift before getting the hefty dose of fear he was after. Those were the days when he wondered at the worthiness of it all.
And now, this lovely creature, dangerous in her own way, was sleeping like a baby, even as he lit a cigarette and settled into the chair to watch her for a while.
Her likeness to Darla, not so much feature-wise, but in haughty self-importance and crisp, precise judgment, was the appeal. It drew his sire in like the proverbial moth to the flame. Fortunately, good ole Spike was here to ensure Angelus did not get burned. He planned to snuff out that flame before anymore damage could be done.
His mind drifted to that folder and he stood quickly leaving her in favor of a hunt. He roamed from her room quietly and found what he was looking for quickly. She hadn’t bothered to hide it, so secure she was in her own domain. He chuckled and shook his head while opening he file. The picture of Willow was on top, now attached to another smaller piece of paper by a clip. It was hand-written notes and he recognized them as some of the pseudo-suggestions Angel had provided to her earlier that night. Underneath that was a larger paper, this one filled with more hand-written details of a conversation or meeting. He skimmed over the page, frowning when he saw the name Walsh. There was a copy of two police reports, composed by her as well, dictating the details of his childe’s antics. He breezed through those, seeing nothing that caught his eye, and turned to the last item in the folder.
Almost shocked, but not really, he let his features settle into a grin. He did not get to see himself often and was glad to confirm what he had always believed: He was a handsome bloke.
“Well, well,” he whispered. “Looks like our dear detective knows much more than she's been saying.” File in hand, he stalked his way to her room and sat on her bed without ceremony.
“Kate. Wake up, ducks,” he demanded in a low gravelly voice, shaking the pillow under her head.
She did, sitting up and drawing away from the danger instantly. “William. What are you doing her? Get out.” Her hand slipped under the covers, almost imperceptible. Almost.
His hand got there first, removing her gun.
He smile and held it out toward her. “Looking for this?” His face melted into a perfected pout. “You wouldn’t want to hurt me now, would you, Kate. We’re all friends here, right?”
Her eyes shifted between him and the gun as she nodded. “Yeah, friends. Where’s Angel?”
“Right now, probably shagging that cheerleader of his. She is a luscious thing. Not that you’re not a delicious creature yourself. But I’m not here to talk about that. Not now, at least. Later though, you can demonstrate the more charming aspects of your personality, yeah?”
“What the fuck do you want?” The hard edge of her voice was betrayed by the trembling that filtered through. She was angry and scared, and angry because she was scared. Her carefully constructed control was in danger of being shattered, and the things she dared not fathom were pounding on her door, demanding that they be let in and perceived, understood, believed.
He held up the picture of him. “Tell me a story, Kate. And it better be good.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Xander sat on Willow’s bed, one hand running over the soft comforter as he held her pillow to his nose with the other. He fancied he could still smell her in these things and in some primordial way he probably could. Buffy watched him compassionately as this was something she did every night.
“So Riley know what’s happened to her and now you wanna tell them where she is?” he asked.
“No, I don’t want to, but what choice do we have? They’re killing people. She’s killing people. A lot of people.”
He closed his eyes, burying himself deeper into the not so imagined scents, and shook his head.
“No.”
“No?”
“Yeah, no....Willow is...was my friend forever. I don’t care if she’s a demon. I can’t let her go. I did that once and I can’t. Not again.”
Stretching out on the bed, he waited for the inevitable speech. In his mind he had already been over anything Buffy could say, and he knew what the right, logical choice was, but this was Willow and his heart ruled things concerning her. He was prepared to leave her alone and protect her from this Initiative as long as she stayed away from Sunnydale. Even then, he could not predict his reaction, but doubted that he could stake her. He loved her.
“I know,” Buffy replied, obviously not willing to make the arguments needed to get him to agree to the destruction of the redhead. “I can’t either.” She also knew that giving Willow and Spike up meant endangering Angel. That was another reason for her inability to do her job. She would talk to Angel tomorrow and try to convince him to make his evil little family leave the country, or at least the state.