Broken
Broken
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: PG
Summary: A Christmas Card Fic for alice23kate. Angel/Spike/Xander hurt comfort.
Angel collapsed as he moved closer to the safety of his doorway. A quiet grunt was all he could sum up as he hit the ground and rolled. Everything hurt. Broken, bleeding, gutted and throat slit, he lay on the ground, with no hope of being found. He jerked his head, looking toward the door and then looking up at the early morning sky. A look of resignation crossed his face and tears began to flow.
The sky lightened and Angel watched as the sun broke the line of buildings across the street. He groaned and tried to force his limbs to move, failing miserably. He felt the skin of his left hand begin to sizzle and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across him and an old, once-loved voice was heard. “Bloody hell!” Strong hands yanked him up and he coughed, spitting out blood as he was jerked across the ground toward his apartment. The voice came again, “Xan, open the door.”
Angel flinched as he was laid out across something cold and hard. His entire body pulsed with sensation. Warm, living blood touched his lips and his demon fell forward, slicing into the proffered flesh.
“Enough.” Another voice; warm, kind and full of life filled his ears.
He pried his eyes open and looked up, taking in the appearance of the two men before him. A sharp pain in his side, a fist to the ribs, accompanied by, “He said enough!” and he retracted his fangs.
“Sss..sp..” His throat burned as the word tried to escape.
“Yeah, Peaches. It’s Spike. C’mon. Up.”
Two sets of strong arms tugged him up, stripped off his clothing. The strong arms carried him to the bathroom, bathing him with a gentleness that was long forgotten. He was dried and dressed in warm cotton, then placed gently on his bed. Shuffling noises were heard, along with whispered conversation.
“Love you, you ok?”
“Of course I’m… why?”
“It’s just…”
“… love you, you know that, Spike.”
“This isn’t what we…”
“…orrow, baby. I promise.”
“You’re right love, tomorrow…”
Sounds of lips meeting, soft moans of pleasure, then he was surrounded by heat. A warm body along one side, a cooler one on the other. Arms wrapped around him and he fell into sleep, safe and secure.
The End
Disclaimer: A full disclaimer can be found here, but please be assured that none of this is mine.
Rating: PG
Summary: A Christmas Card Fic for alice23kate. Angel/Spike/Xander hurt comfort.
Angel collapsed as he moved closer to the safety of his doorway. A quiet grunt was all he could sum up as he hit the ground and rolled. Everything hurt. Broken, bleeding, gutted and throat slit, he lay on the ground, with no hope of being found. He jerked his head, looking toward the door and then looking up at the early morning sky. A look of resignation crossed his face and tears began to flow.
The sky lightened and Angel watched as the sun broke the line of buildings across the street. He groaned and tried to force his limbs to move, failing miserably. He felt the skin of his left hand begin to sizzle and closed his eyes, waiting for the inevitable.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across him and an old, once-loved voice was heard. “Bloody hell!” Strong hands yanked him up and he coughed, spitting out blood as he was jerked across the ground toward his apartment. The voice came again, “Xan, open the door.”
Angel flinched as he was laid out across something cold and hard. His entire body pulsed with sensation. Warm, living blood touched his lips and his demon fell forward, slicing into the proffered flesh.
“Enough.” Another voice; warm, kind and full of life filled his ears.
He pried his eyes open and looked up, taking in the appearance of the two men before him. A sharp pain in his side, a fist to the ribs, accompanied by, “He said enough!” and he retracted his fangs.
“Sss..sp..” His throat burned as the word tried to escape.
“Yeah, Peaches. It’s Spike. C’mon. Up.”
Two sets of strong arms tugged him up, stripped off his clothing. The strong arms carried him to the bathroom, bathing him with a gentleness that was long forgotten. He was dried and dressed in warm cotton, then placed gently on his bed. Shuffling noises were heard, along with whispered conversation.
“Love you, you ok?”
“Of course I’m… why?”
“It’s just…”
“… love you, you know that, Spike.”
“This isn’t what we…”
“…orrow, baby. I promise.”
“You’re right love, tomorrow…”
Sounds of lips meeting, soft moans of pleasure, then he was surrounded by heat. A warm body along one side, a cooler one on the other. Arms wrapped around him and he fell into sleep, safe and secure.
The End