Wake Part 6
Author's note: I have to go to work in a minute, so I am posting this part very early. I have to admit that I feel very apprehensive about it. You've all said such nice things to me and I'm afraid you're all going to turn on me because of this. All I can say is that this is a very dark fic in lots of ways (I couldn't help it, honest, guv, it just came out that way) and we've more or less had all the nice stuff. Also, in case anyone is offended by what I say about what's under Giles's bed, we Brits keep funny things there too. I have an ice axe and a big stash of vampire porn under mine.
Warnings: Same as before, but, in this part, character death.
Part 6
Part 6
Giles wasn’t sure at first what woke him. He only knew that he came awake very suddenly, to find his head resting on the desk in front of him, his whole body aching, and his heart racing. Without moving, he sat and listened, for what he wasn’t sure, until he heard it again. It was Spike’s voice, thick and full of passion, nothing like he normally sounded. “Unh! Unh! Unh!” groaned quietly over and over, in an erotic rhythm that seemed to go straight to Giles’s groin, making his cock stir and lift, as if its interest was finally caught.
Wavering to his feet, Giles stepped out onto the landing as quietly as he could and looked down the stairwell. The living room was not as shadowed and dark as it should be. Instead, bright beams of moonlight shone into it, bathing the two figures on the couch in silver. Giles thought he should never have left Spike unchained. The vampire must have opened the curtains and the window, for a fresh breeze filled the room, smelling of wet earth and living things. Had he run away? Who was that, then, lying with Angel on the couch? Feeling stunned and confused, unable to process at first what he was seeing, Giles was half way down the stairs before he realised what was going on. Then he stopped, caught in spite of himself by the sheer beauty of the sight. Spike and Angel lay face down on the couch, Angel half on top of Spike, the moonlight painting them bronze over silver, caressing their bodies with its light. As he watched, Spike turned his face, eyes closed in ecstasy and Angel kissed him, tonguing his mouth open, deep and gentle. Their arms and legs on the right hand side were as if plaited together, from hand to ankle, so entwined were they. Angel’s hips rocked gently where their bodies were joined out of Giles’s sight, the muscles in his buttocks moving strongly, like a tidal action, in and out; and each time he rocked, Spike moaned softly and thrillingly and undulated under him. Angel’s left hand was under Spike’s body, attending to his lover’s cock, his arm moving tenderly as he milked it. Giles stood stock still, half his mind in awe at the sight. This was no taking of a helpless creature by its owner: what he was seeing was deeply erotic male sex between two adult men, who loved each other. It didn’t matter that the participants were not really men at all, that their minds were broken; it was the essential truth of it. A shiver went all through Giles’s body, in spite of himself. Angel was taking, and Spike was giving, willingly, because he wanted to. There was no mistaking it.
Then Spike said, again in that voice so little like his normal voice that it made Giles wonder for a moment if his vampire had been playing him for a fool all this time: “Papa!” and he shuddered and jerked under Angel, reaching his orgasm. Angel seemed to hang over Spike’s prone body for a moment, before he relaxed onto him as he spent and spent into the willing vessel beneath. Before he had finished, Giles was already moving, seizing the baseball bat that, like any good adoptive American, he kept under the bed to see off intruders. He couldn’t remember when he had last been so angry. His pet had allowed that beast to stick its filthy dick in his body, to fill him with that poisonous, dead vampire jizz. Red dots appeared in his vision and he wondered for a moment if he was going to have a heart attack. Spike had called this brute ‘Papa.’ The filthy little slag, the traitor!
Giles struck Angel over the head and shoulders with the bat hard enough to stun a human, knocking him off Spike. Then he struck him again, and then again, off the couch altogether and into a still heap on the floor. Spike jumped at sight of his master. He had been so caught up in his bestial doings that he hadn’t even heard Giles approach until it was too late. Giles grabbed him by the hair and dragged him bodily off the couch, throwing him onto the floor. He loomed over the terrified creature, ignoring the wide blue eyes with their deceptive innocence. He knew now that they were full of lies.
“You little whore!” he heard himself yell. “I’ll teach you to let anyone but me touch you! You belong to me, you disgusting little beast, and don’t you fucking forget it!”
So saying, he began to kick Spike repeatedly in the head and side, as he curled up wailing and tried to defend himself with his arms. He kicked and kicked, hearing his breath coming short, wheezing in his chest. The rattan switch lay on the occasional table close by - left there in plain sight to intimidate Spike- and Giles seized it and brought it whistling down on the vampire’s back and buttocks over and over, flaying the fine skin until it resembled fluttering white ribbons edged in red, and blood splattered the nearby furniture, the floor, his own clothes and face, and there were dark strips of skin hanging from the tip of the switch. Spike screamed and writhed and tried to get away, but Giles held him down with one foot in the small of his back, pressing hard enough to snap a human’s spine. Then he picked up the baseball bat again, and raised it.
Suddenly, he heard a booming roar of fury and turning, saw in horror Angel leaping at him in full vamp face, fangs glistening in the moonlight, yellow eyes like sulphurous pits.
It was such a terrifying sight that Giles forgot instantly that Angel was chained, and that the chain would not allow the creature to reach him. He reacted instinctively, with all his Watcher’s training, and swung the bat, narrow end first at the lunging vampire. It connected just where it should and with a snarl of fury forever denied, Angel turned to dust in front of his eyes; thick, choking dust that filled his nostrils and drifted down to settle in the wounds on Spike’s ruined back. For one awful moment, there was complete silence, both Giles and his victim frozen in place. Then Spike shrieked like a banshee and seemed to go into some kind of fit, his body convulsing and spasming, his jaws locked, arms flailing. He rolled himself over and over in the dust that had been Angel, heedless of his wounds, a high, terrible sound coming from his throat like a hare screaming. Giles stared at him, mouth open, stunned by this outcome. He had meant to get rid of Angel, but never like this, and it was all Spike’s fault, the filthy little slut! So thinking, he swung the bat once more and struck as hard as he could, catching Spike on the side of the head. The small, frail-seeming body flew across the room and smacked into the wall, head first. Then it slid down, leaving a trail of red behind it, and Spike was still.
Warnings: Same as before, but, in this part, character death.
Part 6
Part 6
Giles wasn’t sure at first what woke him. He only knew that he came awake very suddenly, to find his head resting on the desk in front of him, his whole body aching, and his heart racing. Without moving, he sat and listened, for what he wasn’t sure, until he heard it again. It was Spike’s voice, thick and full of passion, nothing like he normally sounded. “Unh! Unh! Unh!” groaned quietly over and over, in an erotic rhythm that seemed to go straight to Giles’s groin, making his cock stir and lift, as if its interest was finally caught.
Wavering to his feet, Giles stepped out onto the landing as quietly as he could and looked down the stairwell. The living room was not as shadowed and dark as it should be. Instead, bright beams of moonlight shone into it, bathing the two figures on the couch in silver. Giles thought he should never have left Spike unchained. The vampire must have opened the curtains and the window, for a fresh breeze filled the room, smelling of wet earth and living things. Had he run away? Who was that, then, lying with Angel on the couch? Feeling stunned and confused, unable to process at first what he was seeing, Giles was half way down the stairs before he realised what was going on. Then he stopped, caught in spite of himself by the sheer beauty of the sight. Spike and Angel lay face down on the couch, Angel half on top of Spike, the moonlight painting them bronze over silver, caressing their bodies with its light. As he watched, Spike turned his face, eyes closed in ecstasy and Angel kissed him, tonguing his mouth open, deep and gentle. Their arms and legs on the right hand side were as if plaited together, from hand to ankle, so entwined were they. Angel’s hips rocked gently where their bodies were joined out of Giles’s sight, the muscles in his buttocks moving strongly, like a tidal action, in and out; and each time he rocked, Spike moaned softly and thrillingly and undulated under him. Angel’s left hand was under Spike’s body, attending to his lover’s cock, his arm moving tenderly as he milked it. Giles stood stock still, half his mind in awe at the sight. This was no taking of a helpless creature by its owner: what he was seeing was deeply erotic male sex between two adult men, who loved each other. It didn’t matter that the participants were not really men at all, that their minds were broken; it was the essential truth of it. A shiver went all through Giles’s body, in spite of himself. Angel was taking, and Spike was giving, willingly, because he wanted to. There was no mistaking it.
Then Spike said, again in that voice so little like his normal voice that it made Giles wonder for a moment if his vampire had been playing him for a fool all this time: “Papa!” and he shuddered and jerked under Angel, reaching his orgasm. Angel seemed to hang over Spike’s prone body for a moment, before he relaxed onto him as he spent and spent into the willing vessel beneath. Before he had finished, Giles was already moving, seizing the baseball bat that, like any good adoptive American, he kept under the bed to see off intruders. He couldn’t remember when he had last been so angry. His pet had allowed that beast to stick its filthy dick in his body, to fill him with that poisonous, dead vampire jizz. Red dots appeared in his vision and he wondered for a moment if he was going to have a heart attack. Spike had called this brute ‘Papa.’ The filthy little slag, the traitor!
Giles struck Angel over the head and shoulders with the bat hard enough to stun a human, knocking him off Spike. Then he struck him again, and then again, off the couch altogether and into a still heap on the floor. Spike jumped at sight of his master. He had been so caught up in his bestial doings that he hadn’t even heard Giles approach until it was too late. Giles grabbed him by the hair and dragged him bodily off the couch, throwing him onto the floor. He loomed over the terrified creature, ignoring the wide blue eyes with their deceptive innocence. He knew now that they were full of lies.
“You little whore!” he heard himself yell. “I’ll teach you to let anyone but me touch you! You belong to me, you disgusting little beast, and don’t you fucking forget it!”
So saying, he began to kick Spike repeatedly in the head and side, as he curled up wailing and tried to defend himself with his arms. He kicked and kicked, hearing his breath coming short, wheezing in his chest. The rattan switch lay on the occasional table close by - left there in plain sight to intimidate Spike- and Giles seized it and brought it whistling down on the vampire’s back and buttocks over and over, flaying the fine skin until it resembled fluttering white ribbons edged in red, and blood splattered the nearby furniture, the floor, his own clothes and face, and there were dark strips of skin hanging from the tip of the switch. Spike screamed and writhed and tried to get away, but Giles held him down with one foot in the small of his back, pressing hard enough to snap a human’s spine. Then he picked up the baseball bat again, and raised it.
Suddenly, he heard a booming roar of fury and turning, saw in horror Angel leaping at him in full vamp face, fangs glistening in the moonlight, yellow eyes like sulphurous pits.
It was such a terrifying sight that Giles forgot instantly that Angel was chained, and that the chain would not allow the creature to reach him. He reacted instinctively, with all his Watcher’s training, and swung the bat, narrow end first at the lunging vampire. It connected just where it should and with a snarl of fury forever denied, Angel turned to dust in front of his eyes; thick, choking dust that filled his nostrils and drifted down to settle in the wounds on Spike’s ruined back. For one awful moment, there was complete silence, both Giles and his victim frozen in place. Then Spike shrieked like a banshee and seemed to go into some kind of fit, his body convulsing and spasming, his jaws locked, arms flailing. He rolled himself over and over in the dust that had been Angel, heedless of his wounds, a high, terrible sound coming from his throat like a hare screaming. Giles stared at him, mouth open, stunned by this outcome. He had meant to get rid of Angel, but never like this, and it was all Spike’s fault, the filthy little slut! So thinking, he swung the bat once more and struck as hard as he could, catching Spike on the side of the head. The small, frail-seeming body flew across the room and smacked into the wall, head first. Then it slid down, leaving a trail of red behind it, and Spike was still.