30 Days ~ Day 5
Memories entry...
Title: 30 Days
Authors: writtenbyfates (femailofthespecies and claudia6913)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modeled after the FX original series 30 Days. Spike gets to spend 30 days with a soul and living with Angel. Will this give him the perspective he needs to understand Angel?
Disclaimer: We neither own Angel, Spike, nor the show 30 Days. That all belongs to their respective owners and we are merely borrowing to play.
Previous Days
Day 5
He stomps along the sewer tunnels, the roar and rattle of the occasional subway train above him a nice distraction from his warring thoughts. Going back would be sensible and he knows this on some level, but admitting that he was wrong about anything to Angel is not an option for Spike so he trudges forward, making large, angry splashes with his booted feet.
Rounding a bend in the tunnel, he hears something coming from the surface and his curiosity is peaked. At the nearest escape ladder, he climbs up careful to check for sunshine, but there is none. It’s not late enough for it to be dark out, but he has happened on a street between two tall edifices that has been blessed with tons of shade.
Spike pushes the grate open easily and slips out. A few curious eyes watch him for a moment before losing interest and turning back, their attention focused on what attracted the blond in the first place.
A punk band is on a small stage at the end of the street which has been blocked off for the event. They are currently doing a fairly good cover of The Shirts’ Running Through the Night. Bobbing his head, Spike blends in easily, forgeting why he left as the music consumes him.
Humans press in on him from every side, surrounding him, and for a moment he panics, feeling the thrum of their heartbeats over the music, the soft push of their skin against his. He smells the sweat, and sex, and drugs, knows institutively that these are easy pickings. He could lure one or more away to a secluded corner with little effort and feed on them, but he doesn’t - he can’t actually. His soul cries at his thoughts, but his eyes remain dry and dispassionate. Instead, he pushes his fear and panic down below the surface, focusing on the sound of the music, willing it to drown out the rush of blood as it pumps through these hot little bodies.
Spike stops a few feet away from the patch of sunshine that cuts across and looks ahead, standing on tip-toe to see them. He doesn’t know the group, but likes the music and looks around.
The punks of this day and age are nothing like the punks of the late 70’s and early 80’s, but he recognizes them as such all the same. A few look him up and down and approve, but he’s beyond caring.
There’s a girl bouncing near him, jumping and shaking her arms high in the air, her head jerking back and forth to the music hard enough to snap her neck. She accidentally bumps into him. Stopping, she looks up.
“My bad!” she yells over the music and smiles at him, her electric blue lips parting to reveal bright white teeth. The lipstick, Spike notices, match the streaks in her hair. It’s long, bunched in the back and top of her head, letting tendrils fall haphazardly all over the place.
“’S alright!” Spike yells back, flashing a smile of his own.
She keeps on swinging her body violently to the music, reminding him of one of Dru’s fits, but her eyes are now focused on him.
“Ain’t seen you before,” she tells him, like this is news to him. “You’re kinda old.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Hey, not that old!” he shouts over the music, but is not really angry. He is actually very old and even though he has walked this earth for over 150 years as a human and demon, he still young at heart … on most days.
She grins at him. “Yeah, at least you ain't old enough to have been around for them original groups.” She slows her movements, her concentration off as she talks to Spike, and points to a group of older men and women, looking used and worn, but every bit as energetic as their younger enthusiasts, their limbs flailing wildly in an impromptu pit. “All they ever talk about is the good old days, when punk was new and revolutionary,” she feigns an English accent fairly well and smiles widely at the blond.
“Can’t live in the past forever,” he says, but not loud enough to hear over the music and roar of the crowd as they sing and scream along with the music. She gives him a questioning look and he waves her off. This isn’t the place or time for conversation.
Closing his eyes, Spike lets the music run through him for a minute, hard and strong, making his chest pound, faking a heartbeat he no longer remembers.
Hot hands burning him through his shirt run up his torso and he opens his eyes to see the girl close to him, dancing around him.
It hits him, just at that moment, that not too long ago he would’ve taken her for a shag and sucked her dry. However, be it the function of the soul, or something else Spike doesn’t want to address, he longs for more conversation with her, talking the night away, possibly a shag or two. He smiles and moves with her, happy to be lost in her warmth and the music instead of the wails of his soul.
They dance the entire set, gyrating through covers of tunes by various groups and the concert is ending with a song originally done by Sublime. Kyra, he discovers her is her name, tells him that he’s a good dancer and spends a lot of time getting familiar with his body. He doesn't mind, the soul apparently willing to play this sort of game without any guilt whatsoever.
Her friends come to check on her, more curious about the cute blond punk with the Billy Idol look than they are concerned about her, and she sends them on their way, wanting to get to know him better.
“God! They’re so dang nosey,” she complains to him when they saunter off. "What's your name, anyway? I don't wanna be saying 'hey you' all day."
"Spike," he replies, pursing his lips slightly when she gives him the 'yeah right'.
The sun is dropping in the sky and he glances around, wondering what he should do with this young thing pulsing in his arms. He wants to eat her for certain, but the souls is singing its anally annoying song of remorse and he quickly backs off from that way of thinking .
The lot and alleyway begins clearing out after the band’s last number. A few people linger to talk or smoke, but everyone else is headed somewhere else. Soon enough, they are fairly alone in the shadows. Spike notices that this particular area only gets Eastern exposure to the sun, for which he is thankful.
“I know this great club down the street,” Kyra says, linking her arm with his, “if you wanna, ya know, dance some more?”
Smiling down at her, Spike knows he can’t leave this place yet. “Sure you want to go with me? I might be the big bad wolf in disguise.” He’s joking, but the girl thinks about it honestly.
“The big bag wolf wouldn't tell me he was the big bad wolf, now would he? Besides, I can’t give you up yet,” she beams at him and he suddenly doesn feel his age. “You got somewhere in mind?”
He lets his eyes roam over her in that way that he knows gets the girls hot for him and bends to whisper in her ear, ignoring the rush of blood beneath her flushed skin. “Got something else in mind.”
She trembles, but is unafraid and eager, and her smile returns as she pulls back to look him in the eye. “Then we, Mr. Blue Eyes, are on the same page.”
“That we are, pet.”
She is an aggressive thing, which he has decided he really likes, and takes his hand, pulling him along. “But first, I am so freakin’ hungry, I could eat a whole cow.”
“An’ just where would you put all that meat?” Spike asks, smiling as she blushes a little.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Plan to find out, pet. But first, I expect we should get you something to eat, eh?” Looking around, he scents the air and smells a food near by. Squeezing her hand, they walk towards the mouth of the alleyway, and just two doors down is a buffet. Spike smiles as he sees the overhangs, lending him even more shade in which to walk.
“So I know you’re from England, or at least you sound like it,” she starts as he opens the door for her and they go inside. “How long have you been here? And why? Cuz America sucks. Our government is totally into oppressing third world nations. You know that don’t you?”
He suppresses the urge to laugh at her and wonders if he was ever this naïve. “No, pet. Do tell me more.”
It’s her turn to lift an eyebrow. “Are you making fun of me?”
He feels panicked inside and an odd heat rushing through him and it’s a full three seconds before he realizes it’s the stupid, bloody cock-up of a soul wondering if he hurt the girl’s feelings. And he knows that when the thing comes out he is going to eat that Morgan fella.
“Maybe just a bit,” he tells her truthfully, but smiles so sweetly that he could cut off all her hair and call her monkey-girl and she would be just fine with it.
“Well, maybe it's not a cesspool of tyrany, but there are problems.” she says, then her eyes widen a little. “Oh, I’ve never been here. Is the food any good?”
“Sod all if I know, pet,” Spike says. "Maybe the owners come from an oppressed country and are here with some nafarious plot to detroy the government."
Kyra laughs and shakes her head. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Not soon,” Spike answers, knowing that if he didn't have this soul handicap she would not survive long enough to live anything down. They stop their chat as a woman comes up to them and seats them. Unfortunately, he picked a restaurant that doesn’t serve beer or alcohol.
Once seated, they mull over the a la carte menu before settling on just going to the buffet. Finally seated with food and drinks, they pick up their conversation again.
“So, how’d you hear about the concert?” Kyra asks, taking a knife to her roast beef. Apparently, she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she could eat a cow.
“Didn’t. Popped up in the alleyway an’ there it was,” Spike replied as he speared some roasted potatoes.
“Cool,” she said, shoveling more food into her mouth than any lady had a right to chew on at once.
Spike watches in awe of this unfettered creature and wishes he could just have a taste. She glances up and stops with a forkful hovering in front of her mouth, the blue lipstick begging to be kissed away. “What?”
“You eat like a horse.”
She tosses more food in and laughs while chewing. “Seven siblings and you’d eat what you could when you could too.” Swallowing the current mouthful, she licks her lips clean and looks at him thoughtfully. “Besides, I like being greedy. I think you’re gonna like it too.”
He regards her for a few seconds before throwing his napkin on his plate, and snatching her by the hand from across the table. “We’re going,” he growls as they stand.
She realizes as they leave the place that neither of them paid, but runs along with him. “God, you’re wonderful.”
“Prefer if it was my name comin’ from your lips. Spike.”
“Seriously? Your name is really is Spike?”
“’S what I go by, yeah. Come on, down here.” They duck in another alleyway, different from the one they had met it. This one leads nowhere, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he pushes her against the wall, kissing her deeply.
Kyra moans into his mouth, her hot hands roaming up his neck and down his back. She breaks away to breathe, panting hard.
“Spike,” she says all breathy and low, trying it out. “You gonna … do me … here … in public?” she asks him as his lips kiss and suck a trail from her jaw to her neck, making her moan and pant her way through the question.
He says nothing, but continues the erotic assault, grinning into her when he feels her capitulation and he knows that he can shag her up against the dirty wall until blood gushes from between her legs and he stops, getting a cock-stiffening visual at the same time that the souls slaps his hands.
“Let’s go somewhere. Wanna worship you properly, luv.”
Her insides melt as she nods her agreement.
**********
He’s looks everywhere, in the nearby sewers, under Cordelia’s desk just to bother her, and he even accosts one of the cameramen, nearly scaring him to death, asking if he knows where Spike is.
And all the while, Angel is confused. He should be happy that Spike is out of his hair. But, he feels bad for what he’d said to the younger vampire earlier and wants to make it right. Not to say he's sorry because that is beyond his physical capabilities when it comes to his childe, but he doesn't want Spike to think he doesn't care.
Walking into the lobby, Angel opens his mouth, but he is immediately cut off by Cordy.
“No, he hasn’t called, and no one has seen him yet,” she says in a bored voice. “You’d think you would have thought of this before yelling at him. There’s only so much people can take before they no longer want to be around your brand of negativity.”
“Spike’s not a person,” Angel says distractedly, watching the phone, willing it to ring.
“See! That’s exactly what I mean!” she cries, pointing at Angel. “Mr. Negative. He may not technically be a person, but do you have to point it out all the time? Spike has feelings you know.” She ignores the scoff from Angel. “Well, he does now and your words hurt him, even if you don’t think they do. If I didn’t have such a high opinion of myself, I would’ve left the first week I was here, and then where would you be?”
“Several hundred headaches ahead of the game,” he mutters, staring out the window.
“What?”
“Nothing. Do we have anything going on tonight?”
“Besides you taking me to Rodeo Drive for that Dealing-With-Recently-Souled-Childer shopping spree?”
Angel crosses his arms and stares at her.
“Nope. No visions, no clients, and sadly no money. Why do I work here again?” She stands and prepares to leave, her thin shirt giving Angel a nice view of her womanly parts when she passes into a patch of sunlight.
“Because no one else will put up with your filing system and nail polish breaks?”
He has decided to go looking for Spike. With a new soul, the boy is a target for all sorts of bad things waiting to happen.
**********
Spike and Kyra tumble into the motel room, laughing. He throws her onto the bed, climbing over her body while she giggles from soft kisses on her neck.
**********
Title: 30 Days
Authors: writtenbyfates (femailofthespecies and claudia6913)
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Modeled after the FX original series 30 Days. Spike gets to spend 30 days with a soul and living with Angel. Will this give him the perspective he needs to understand Angel?
Disclaimer: We neither own Angel, Spike, nor the show 30 Days. That all belongs to their respective owners and we are merely borrowing to play.
Previous Days
Day 5
He stomps along the sewer tunnels, the roar and rattle of the occasional subway train above him a nice distraction from his warring thoughts. Going back would be sensible and he knows this on some level, but admitting that he was wrong about anything to Angel is not an option for Spike so he trudges forward, making large, angry splashes with his booted feet.
Rounding a bend in the tunnel, he hears something coming from the surface and his curiosity is peaked. At the nearest escape ladder, he climbs up careful to check for sunshine, but there is none. It’s not late enough for it to be dark out, but he has happened on a street between two tall edifices that has been blessed with tons of shade.
Spike pushes the grate open easily and slips out. A few curious eyes watch him for a moment before losing interest and turning back, their attention focused on what attracted the blond in the first place.
A punk band is on a small stage at the end of the street which has been blocked off for the event. They are currently doing a fairly good cover of The Shirts’ Running Through the Night. Bobbing his head, Spike blends in easily, forgeting why he left as the music consumes him.
Humans press in on him from every side, surrounding him, and for a moment he panics, feeling the thrum of their heartbeats over the music, the soft push of their skin against his. He smells the sweat, and sex, and drugs, knows institutively that these are easy pickings. He could lure one or more away to a secluded corner with little effort and feed on them, but he doesn’t - he can’t actually. His soul cries at his thoughts, but his eyes remain dry and dispassionate. Instead, he pushes his fear and panic down below the surface, focusing on the sound of the music, willing it to drown out the rush of blood as it pumps through these hot little bodies.
Spike stops a few feet away from the patch of sunshine that cuts across and looks ahead, standing on tip-toe to see them. He doesn’t know the group, but likes the music and looks around.
The punks of this day and age are nothing like the punks of the late 70’s and early 80’s, but he recognizes them as such all the same. A few look him up and down and approve, but he’s beyond caring.
There’s a girl bouncing near him, jumping and shaking her arms high in the air, her head jerking back and forth to the music hard enough to snap her neck. She accidentally bumps into him. Stopping, she looks up.
“My bad!” she yells over the music and smiles at him, her electric blue lips parting to reveal bright white teeth. The lipstick, Spike notices, match the streaks in her hair. It’s long, bunched in the back and top of her head, letting tendrils fall haphazardly all over the place.
“’S alright!” Spike yells back, flashing a smile of his own.
She keeps on swinging her body violently to the music, reminding him of one of Dru’s fits, but her eyes are now focused on him.
“Ain’t seen you before,” she tells him, like this is news to him. “You’re kinda old.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Hey, not that old!” he shouts over the music, but is not really angry. He is actually very old and even though he has walked this earth for over 150 years as a human and demon, he still young at heart … on most days.
She grins at him. “Yeah, at least you ain't old enough to have been around for them original groups.” She slows her movements, her concentration off as she talks to Spike, and points to a group of older men and women, looking used and worn, but every bit as energetic as their younger enthusiasts, their limbs flailing wildly in an impromptu pit. “All they ever talk about is the good old days, when punk was new and revolutionary,” she feigns an English accent fairly well and smiles widely at the blond.
“Can’t live in the past forever,” he says, but not loud enough to hear over the music and roar of the crowd as they sing and scream along with the music. She gives him a questioning look and he waves her off. This isn’t the place or time for conversation.
Closing his eyes, Spike lets the music run through him for a minute, hard and strong, making his chest pound, faking a heartbeat he no longer remembers.
Hot hands burning him through his shirt run up his torso and he opens his eyes to see the girl close to him, dancing around him.
It hits him, just at that moment, that not too long ago he would’ve taken her for a shag and sucked her dry. However, be it the function of the soul, or something else Spike doesn’t want to address, he longs for more conversation with her, talking the night away, possibly a shag or two. He smiles and moves with her, happy to be lost in her warmth and the music instead of the wails of his soul.
They dance the entire set, gyrating through covers of tunes by various groups and the concert is ending with a song originally done by Sublime. Kyra, he discovers her is her name, tells him that he’s a good dancer and spends a lot of time getting familiar with his body. He doesn't mind, the soul apparently willing to play this sort of game without any guilt whatsoever.
Her friends come to check on her, more curious about the cute blond punk with the Billy Idol look than they are concerned about her, and she sends them on their way, wanting to get to know him better.
“God! They’re so dang nosey,” she complains to him when they saunter off. "What's your name, anyway? I don't wanna be saying 'hey you' all day."
"Spike," he replies, pursing his lips slightly when she gives him the 'yeah right'.
The sun is dropping in the sky and he glances around, wondering what he should do with this young thing pulsing in his arms. He wants to eat her for certain, but the souls is singing its anally annoying song of remorse and he quickly backs off from that way of thinking .
The lot and alleyway begins clearing out after the band’s last number. A few people linger to talk or smoke, but everyone else is headed somewhere else. Soon enough, they are fairly alone in the shadows. Spike notices that this particular area only gets Eastern exposure to the sun, for which he is thankful.
“I know this great club down the street,” Kyra says, linking her arm with his, “if you wanna, ya know, dance some more?”
Smiling down at her, Spike knows he can’t leave this place yet. “Sure you want to go with me? I might be the big bad wolf in disguise.” He’s joking, but the girl thinks about it honestly.
“The big bag wolf wouldn't tell me he was the big bad wolf, now would he? Besides, I can’t give you up yet,” she beams at him and he suddenly doesn feel his age. “You got somewhere in mind?”
He lets his eyes roam over her in that way that he knows gets the girls hot for him and bends to whisper in her ear, ignoring the rush of blood beneath her flushed skin. “Got something else in mind.”
She trembles, but is unafraid and eager, and her smile returns as she pulls back to look him in the eye. “Then we, Mr. Blue Eyes, are on the same page.”
“That we are, pet.”
She is an aggressive thing, which he has decided he really likes, and takes his hand, pulling him along. “But first, I am so freakin’ hungry, I could eat a whole cow.”
“An’ just where would you put all that meat?” Spike asks, smiling as she blushes a little.
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”
“Plan to find out, pet. But first, I expect we should get you something to eat, eh?” Looking around, he scents the air and smells a food near by. Squeezing her hand, they walk towards the mouth of the alleyway, and just two doors down is a buffet. Spike smiles as he sees the overhangs, lending him even more shade in which to walk.
“So I know you’re from England, or at least you sound like it,” she starts as he opens the door for her and they go inside. “How long have you been here? And why? Cuz America sucks. Our government is totally into oppressing third world nations. You know that don’t you?”
He suppresses the urge to laugh at her and wonders if he was ever this naïve. “No, pet. Do tell me more.”
It’s her turn to lift an eyebrow. “Are you making fun of me?”
He feels panicked inside and an odd heat rushing through him and it’s a full three seconds before he realizes it’s the stupid, bloody cock-up of a soul wondering if he hurt the girl’s feelings. And he knows that when the thing comes out he is going to eat that Morgan fella.
“Maybe just a bit,” he tells her truthfully, but smiles so sweetly that he could cut off all her hair and call her monkey-girl and she would be just fine with it.
“Well, maybe it's not a cesspool of tyrany, but there are problems.” she says, then her eyes widen a little. “Oh, I’ve never been here. Is the food any good?”
“Sod all if I know, pet,” Spike says. "Maybe the owners come from an oppressed country and are here with some nafarious plot to detroy the government."
Kyra laughs and shakes her head. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”
“Not soon,” Spike answers, knowing that if he didn't have this soul handicap she would not survive long enough to live anything down. They stop their chat as a woman comes up to them and seats them. Unfortunately, he picked a restaurant that doesn’t serve beer or alcohol.
Once seated, they mull over the a la carte menu before settling on just going to the buffet. Finally seated with food and drinks, they pick up their conversation again.
“So, how’d you hear about the concert?” Kyra asks, taking a knife to her roast beef. Apparently, she hadn’t been kidding when she’d said she could eat a cow.
“Didn’t. Popped up in the alleyway an’ there it was,” Spike replied as he speared some roasted potatoes.
“Cool,” she said, shoveling more food into her mouth than any lady had a right to chew on at once.
Spike watches in awe of this unfettered creature and wishes he could just have a taste. She glances up and stops with a forkful hovering in front of her mouth, the blue lipstick begging to be kissed away. “What?”
“You eat like a horse.”
She tosses more food in and laughs while chewing. “Seven siblings and you’d eat what you could when you could too.” Swallowing the current mouthful, she licks her lips clean and looks at him thoughtfully. “Besides, I like being greedy. I think you’re gonna like it too.”
He regards her for a few seconds before throwing his napkin on his plate, and snatching her by the hand from across the table. “We’re going,” he growls as they stand.
She realizes as they leave the place that neither of them paid, but runs along with him. “God, you’re wonderful.”
“Prefer if it was my name comin’ from your lips. Spike.”
“Seriously? Your name is really is Spike?”
“’S what I go by, yeah. Come on, down here.” They duck in another alleyway, different from the one they had met it. This one leads nowhere, but he doesn’t care. Instead, he pushes her against the wall, kissing her deeply.
Kyra moans into his mouth, her hot hands roaming up his neck and down his back. She breaks away to breathe, panting hard.
“Spike,” she says all breathy and low, trying it out. “You gonna … do me … here … in public?” she asks him as his lips kiss and suck a trail from her jaw to her neck, making her moan and pant her way through the question.
He says nothing, but continues the erotic assault, grinning into her when he feels her capitulation and he knows that he can shag her up against the dirty wall until blood gushes from between her legs and he stops, getting a cock-stiffening visual at the same time that the souls slaps his hands.
“Let’s go somewhere. Wanna worship you properly, luv.”
Her insides melt as she nods her agreement.
**********
He’s looks everywhere, in the nearby sewers, under Cordelia’s desk just to bother her, and he even accosts one of the cameramen, nearly scaring him to death, asking if he knows where Spike is.
And all the while, Angel is confused. He should be happy that Spike is out of his hair. But, he feels bad for what he’d said to the younger vampire earlier and wants to make it right. Not to say he's sorry because that is beyond his physical capabilities when it comes to his childe, but he doesn't want Spike to think he doesn't care.
Walking into the lobby, Angel opens his mouth, but he is immediately cut off by Cordy.
“No, he hasn’t called, and no one has seen him yet,” she says in a bored voice. “You’d think you would have thought of this before yelling at him. There’s only so much people can take before they no longer want to be around your brand of negativity.”
“Spike’s not a person,” Angel says distractedly, watching the phone, willing it to ring.
“See! That’s exactly what I mean!” she cries, pointing at Angel. “Mr. Negative. He may not technically be a person, but do you have to point it out all the time? Spike has feelings you know.” She ignores the scoff from Angel. “Well, he does now and your words hurt him, even if you don’t think they do. If I didn’t have such a high opinion of myself, I would’ve left the first week I was here, and then where would you be?”
“Several hundred headaches ahead of the game,” he mutters, staring out the window.
“What?”
“Nothing. Do we have anything going on tonight?”
“Besides you taking me to Rodeo Drive for that Dealing-With-Recently-Souled-Childer shopping spree?”
Angel crosses his arms and stares at her.
“Nope. No visions, no clients, and sadly no money. Why do I work here again?” She stands and prepares to leave, her thin shirt giving Angel a nice view of her womanly parts when she passes into a patch of sunlight.
“Because no one else will put up with your filing system and nail polish breaks?”
He has decided to go looking for Spike. With a new soul, the boy is a target for all sorts of bad things waiting to happen.
**********
Spike and Kyra tumble into the motel room, laughing. He throws her onto the bed, climbing over her body while she giggles from soft kisses on her neck.
**********