FIC: Reward Delayed (Spike/Angel) (Adults only)
AUTHOR: Salustra
E-MAIL: Salustra: goddess_salustra@juno.com
TITLE: Reward Delayed
RATING: NC-17, Adults only,
PAIRING: Spike/Angel (mostly implied)
SUMMARY: Spike is the sole survivor of the fight in the alleyway, but he doesn't want the reward.
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 'Not Fade Away'
CONTENT: Some nudity and suggestiveness, angst.
DISCLAIMER: We adore playing with the boys, but we’re just having fun. No money made, don’t sue us!
FEEDBACK: Yes please.
Length: 1,412 words.
Spike walked in the door of the rebuilt Hyperion. His boots rang on the marble flooring. He tossed aside his bloodied sword. He'd clean it later, he thought to himself, as he did every night. "Hi, honey, I'm hooooome!" he shouted. There was no one there. No one left to be there, but it had become part of his grim nightly ritual.
He crossed to the stairs and trudged up them, to the room he called his. He stripped off the slime-covered clothes, and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. Time for his nightly medicine. He went out every night and fought until he was near exhaustion hoping it would let him just drop into sleep but it never did. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and settled onto the bed.
Pathetic. That's what he was. Pathetic. He twisted off the cap and tilted the bottle to his lips, letting the smooth golden liquid slide down his throat. He took swallow after swallow with the ease of long practice. It didn't take long til half the bottle was gone, and he set it down long enough to reach for his cigarettes and lighter.
He lit a cigarette, pulling the warm bitter smoke into his lungs. It was funny, he'd actually given them up until...
And there his mind skidded to a halt. Here it was again. It had been a year, a year today actually. He should be able to go a night without remembering, dammit. But he couldn't. So he leaned back against the headboard, taking drag after drag from the cigarette. He let it come.
Charlie was the first to go. Poor Gunn. He'd come to the fight already pretty injured. He took a good honor guard with him though. There were bodies heaped about him as he finally fell.
Then Angel. Spike's throat tightened, and he grabbed the whiskey again and took a slug to loosen it. Angel got the dragon, and it got him. A blast of infernal dying dragon breath, and then no more Angel.
Spike had done the only thing he could with that sacrifice. He went to one of the open wounds on the beast and drank. He gulped down the powerful blood, and it burned in him like molten lava, but he felt like a god. He bounded over the carcass and joined Illyria. They fought back to back for what seemed like hours. The demons and other nasties had to climb over the bodies or pull them aside to get to them. But no matter how many they killed, there always seemed to be more. They both realized this at the same time. They were going to die here, and they looked at each other.
Illyria had nodded, as if she made a decision. "Get behind the dragon," she said to him. "You would have made a good pet." Spike hadn't questioned her, he'd just run over the bodies and ducked down behind the massive carcass, as she ascended to the top of a heap of bodies. He wasn't entirely certain what happened, but one minute there was a battlefield of demons and nasties and then there was a blast of hellfire that engulfed them all. Then there was only a crater where Illyria had stood.
The last few alive Spike killed easily. He was the victor. Yeah, for all that mattered.
The Powers That Be had come after. They'd offered him the prize. Mortality. Fuck that. He told them where to stick it. That had been the prize Angel wanted, not him. Spike liked who he was, he'd fought bloody hard for it. So they'd repaired the hotel, a place for him to stay while they decided what to do with their reluctant hero.
Angel had fixed things up pretty well. He'd set aside funds for whoever survived the alleyway. So really, all Spike had to do was keep himself occupied. He'd tried, for a while, to go back to alleycatting about, or hanging out in stripper bars, or the other things he used to do. It didn't work. He'd gone to Rome, stalked Buffy for a few weeks. He'd discovered, watching her all happy with The Immortal, that he really didn't want her. That the ache inside him wasn't for her, not anymore.
So here he was, helping the helpless, then drinking himself to sleep every night. It was stupid, it was so damn stupid and broody and god would Angel laugh at him right now. He drank more, tilting the bottle up til it was empty. It burned. He stubbed out the cigarette and got up to go over to the wardrobe. He opened it up and pulled out a shirt before closing it again. He lifted the shirt to his face and inhaled. A human couldn't have told, but Spike could still smell him there. Angel.
Fucking pathetic, he told himself again. He went to the bed with it and lay down, pulling it against his bare skin, nuzzling into it. He felt his eyes hot and wet with unshed tears. Dammit. Why couldn't they have just ended it they way it had been, all snarling contention and unresolved tension? Why had things been so right that last night only to have it all gone now?
He could feel it still if he let his mind go there. The touches and kisses and looks that said what words never managed to with them. Gentle and then fierce, then gentle again. His hands. Oh god, the feel of his hands. And Spike had tasted him, his skin all musk and cinnamon. Been down on his knees again, making Angel curse and grab his hair and lose all control. Then the two of them entwined, all sweat and power and ecstasy. Then the fangs, the blood, the taste they'd both missed forever. The blood that bound them both. It lasted an eternity, that night.
Fuck the Powers. Mortality? Right. So he could die and go to a mortal's heaven. Piss on that. He was dying a vamp. Then maybe, just maybe...
His thoughts went into a dark place. The same dark place they went a lot these days. But if he did decide to do it, it would have to wait til morning. Til there was sunlight to walk into. He finally just let the exhaustion and the booze take him into a troubled and fitful slumber.
When he woke, there was a presence behind him. He tried to move and felt an arm tighten around his waist.
"Shhh, early yet, brat. Stay still."
Spike froze. No. Couldn't be. He moved his hand down over the arm around his waist, let it trace the hand. It was. He knew every inch of that hand. He closed his eyes. It was a dream. A really, really good dream, he told himself. He took in the scent, and pressed closer to the body behind him.
That brought a possessive growl and he was pulled in tighter, and a muscular leg wrapped over him. He had to smile. How many days had he spent like this? He purred a little and wriggled more against the body that trapped him.
"Brat."
Suddenly positions were changed and Spike was facing Angel. Then Angel was kissing him. Spike wasn't letting himself think about the fact that this was a dream, that it would have to end. It was the best dream he'd had in a year. Angel's hands were stroking over his skin. Finally Angel broke the kiss. "Figures, I come back from the dead and you're still a brat."
Spike blinked. He shook his head rapidly, then looked back at Angel again. "This isn't a dream."
Angel sighed. "Catching on quick today."
"But...how? Why?"
"The How is the Powers that Be. The Why is you drove them nuts refusing the reward. And I was stuck between planes of existence anyway. Limbo...isn't exactly a vacation spot."
"So you just agreed to come back to get out of Limbo?" Spike huffed a little.
"We're not doing this. Not gonna go into a long argument about why I...fuck it." Angel pulled Spike close, kissed him fiercely. One hand gripped into his hair and the other cupped his ass. The kiss lasted a long time before Angel pulled back.
"Good point," Spike said. "I like this line of discussion. Got more?"
Angel laughed. "Hell yes."
Spike looked forward to a lot more lively discussions before the day was done.
E-MAIL: Salustra: goddess_salustra@juno.com
TITLE: Reward Delayed
RATING: NC-17, Adults only,
PAIRING: Spike/Angel (mostly implied)
SUMMARY: Spike is the sole survivor of the fight in the alleyway, but he doesn't want the reward.
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 'Not Fade Away'
CONTENT: Some nudity and suggestiveness, angst.
DISCLAIMER: We adore playing with the boys, but we’re just having fun. No money made, don’t sue us!
FEEDBACK: Yes please.
Length: 1,412 words.
Spike walked in the door of the rebuilt Hyperion. His boots rang on the marble flooring. He tossed aside his bloodied sword. He'd clean it later, he thought to himself, as he did every night. "Hi, honey, I'm hooooome!" he shouted. There was no one there. No one left to be there, but it had become part of his grim nightly ritual.
He crossed to the stairs and trudged up them, to the room he called his. He stripped off the slime-covered clothes, and pulled on a clean pair of boxers. Time for his nightly medicine. He went out every night and fought until he was near exhaustion hoping it would let him just drop into sleep but it never did. He grabbed a bottle of whiskey and settled onto the bed.
Pathetic. That's what he was. Pathetic. He twisted off the cap and tilted the bottle to his lips, letting the smooth golden liquid slide down his throat. He took swallow after swallow with the ease of long practice. It didn't take long til half the bottle was gone, and he set it down long enough to reach for his cigarettes and lighter.
He lit a cigarette, pulling the warm bitter smoke into his lungs. It was funny, he'd actually given them up until...
And there his mind skidded to a halt. Here it was again. It had been a year, a year today actually. He should be able to go a night without remembering, dammit. But he couldn't. So he leaned back against the headboard, taking drag after drag from the cigarette. He let it come.
Charlie was the first to go. Poor Gunn. He'd come to the fight already pretty injured. He took a good honor guard with him though. There were bodies heaped about him as he finally fell.
Then Angel. Spike's throat tightened, and he grabbed the whiskey again and took a slug to loosen it. Angel got the dragon, and it got him. A blast of infernal dying dragon breath, and then no more Angel.
Spike had done the only thing he could with that sacrifice. He went to one of the open wounds on the beast and drank. He gulped down the powerful blood, and it burned in him like molten lava, but he felt like a god. He bounded over the carcass and joined Illyria. They fought back to back for what seemed like hours. The demons and other nasties had to climb over the bodies or pull them aside to get to them. But no matter how many they killed, there always seemed to be more. They both realized this at the same time. They were going to die here, and they looked at each other.
Illyria had nodded, as if she made a decision. "Get behind the dragon," she said to him. "You would have made a good pet." Spike hadn't questioned her, he'd just run over the bodies and ducked down behind the massive carcass, as she ascended to the top of a heap of bodies. He wasn't entirely certain what happened, but one minute there was a battlefield of demons and nasties and then there was a blast of hellfire that engulfed them all. Then there was only a crater where Illyria had stood.
The last few alive Spike killed easily. He was the victor. Yeah, for all that mattered.
The Powers That Be had come after. They'd offered him the prize. Mortality. Fuck that. He told them where to stick it. That had been the prize Angel wanted, not him. Spike liked who he was, he'd fought bloody hard for it. So they'd repaired the hotel, a place for him to stay while they decided what to do with their reluctant hero.
Angel had fixed things up pretty well. He'd set aside funds for whoever survived the alleyway. So really, all Spike had to do was keep himself occupied. He'd tried, for a while, to go back to alleycatting about, or hanging out in stripper bars, or the other things he used to do. It didn't work. He'd gone to Rome, stalked Buffy for a few weeks. He'd discovered, watching her all happy with The Immortal, that he really didn't want her. That the ache inside him wasn't for her, not anymore.
So here he was, helping the helpless, then drinking himself to sleep every night. It was stupid, it was so damn stupid and broody and god would Angel laugh at him right now. He drank more, tilting the bottle up til it was empty. It burned. He stubbed out the cigarette and got up to go over to the wardrobe. He opened it up and pulled out a shirt before closing it again. He lifted the shirt to his face and inhaled. A human couldn't have told, but Spike could still smell him there. Angel.
Fucking pathetic, he told himself again. He went to the bed with it and lay down, pulling it against his bare skin, nuzzling into it. He felt his eyes hot and wet with unshed tears. Dammit. Why couldn't they have just ended it they way it had been, all snarling contention and unresolved tension? Why had things been so right that last night only to have it all gone now?
He could feel it still if he let his mind go there. The touches and kisses and looks that said what words never managed to with them. Gentle and then fierce, then gentle again. His hands. Oh god, the feel of his hands. And Spike had tasted him, his skin all musk and cinnamon. Been down on his knees again, making Angel curse and grab his hair and lose all control. Then the two of them entwined, all sweat and power and ecstasy. Then the fangs, the blood, the taste they'd both missed forever. The blood that bound them both. It lasted an eternity, that night.
Fuck the Powers. Mortality? Right. So he could die and go to a mortal's heaven. Piss on that. He was dying a vamp. Then maybe, just maybe...
His thoughts went into a dark place. The same dark place they went a lot these days. But if he did decide to do it, it would have to wait til morning. Til there was sunlight to walk into. He finally just let the exhaustion and the booze take him into a troubled and fitful slumber.
When he woke, there was a presence behind him. He tried to move and felt an arm tighten around his waist.
"Shhh, early yet, brat. Stay still."
Spike froze. No. Couldn't be. He moved his hand down over the arm around his waist, let it trace the hand. It was. He knew every inch of that hand. He closed his eyes. It was a dream. A really, really good dream, he told himself. He took in the scent, and pressed closer to the body behind him.
That brought a possessive growl and he was pulled in tighter, and a muscular leg wrapped over him. He had to smile. How many days had he spent like this? He purred a little and wriggled more against the body that trapped him.
"Brat."
Suddenly positions were changed and Spike was facing Angel. Then Angel was kissing him. Spike wasn't letting himself think about the fact that this was a dream, that it would have to end. It was the best dream he'd had in a year. Angel's hands were stroking over his skin. Finally Angel broke the kiss. "Figures, I come back from the dead and you're still a brat."
Spike blinked. He shook his head rapidly, then looked back at Angel again. "This isn't a dream."
Angel sighed. "Catching on quick today."
"But...how? Why?"
"The How is the Powers that Be. The Why is you drove them nuts refusing the reward. And I was stuck between planes of existence anyway. Limbo...isn't exactly a vacation spot."
"So you just agreed to come back to get out of Limbo?" Spike huffed a little.
"We're not doing this. Not gonna go into a long argument about why I...fuck it." Angel pulled Spike close, kissed him fiercely. One hand gripped into his hair and the other cupped his ass. The kiss lasted a long time before Angel pulled back.
"Good point," Spike said. "I like this line of discussion. Got more?"
Angel laughed. "Hell yes."
Spike looked forward to a lot more lively discussions before the day was done.