Fic: Just Watching. Epilogue. Au Human. Spike/Angel. NC-17.
This is it.
Title: Just Watching, Epilogue
Author: felisblanco
Pairings/characters: Spike/Angel, Spike/Danny, OFCs
Rating: NC-17++
Summary: Spike is Angel's teenaged stepson. Sex happens. And that is the worst summary ever.
Warnings: AU Human. Underage sex, step!incest, non-con, daddy!kink, spanking, angstangstangstx100
Author's Note: Thanks again to evilmaniclaugh for looking it over. *smooch* I've written half an essay at the end of this, explaining a few things and just general musings about this story. I hope that's okay.
Previous chapters are here.
Epilogue
“Your passport, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir, and I hope you have a pleasant stay.”
He nods and tightens the grip on his suitcase. People keep bumping into him and he swallows down the panic. He’s sure they can tell, can see it in his eyes. Any moment now someone will stop and point at him.
It takes forever to get out of the huge airport and when he finally steps outside the fresh air hits him in the face. It smells of plane fuel and car fumes. Of freedom. He takes a deep breath and it stutters in his throat. Not gonna cry. Not gonna cry.
A cab honks its horn at him as he steps onto the street, failing to look in the right direction. It misses him by a few inches, the Indian driver shaking his fist out the window.
Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too.
Another cab swings up by his side and he gets in, rambling of the address on the envelope in his pocket. It’s autumn and the colours of the leaves on the trees and bushes are beautiful, the air crisp and relatively clear. All around him people are rushing to different destinations. Living their lives as if nothing has happened.
He sits back and closes his eyes. He feels so tired and not just because of the six hour flight.
He jerks awake when the driver shouts out an, “Oi! Wake up, we’re there!” He pays the fare and gets out, putting the small suitcase down on the pavement as he looks around. It’s a quiet street, only a few cars parked by the curb. Not many at home at this time of day. He takes a deep breath and turns around, facing the house. There’s a small patch of grass in front, what probably counts as a garden in these parts. The walls are white, the windowpanes and door black. Yellow curtains block the view through the windows.
Bending down he grabs the suitcase and straightens up slowly, heart hammering in his chest. He swings open the small gate. It creaks on its hinges. He closes it behind him and walks up to the door. He raises his hand and his fingers tremble as he pushes the small bell. Then stands still, unable to breathe as he waits.
There’s the sound of feet hurrying down stairs and then the door is swung open and he sucks in his breath.
“Yea-?” The young man in front of him freezes, blue eyes open wide and so clear Angel can see his reflection. He stands blinking repeatedly, and then suddenly his face crumples and he staggers forward, hands coming up to clutch Angel’s sweat drenched shirt. “Dad? Daddy?”
Angel’s eyes close as he wraps his arms around the slender form, burying his face in the golden hair. He smells differently now, like curry and tea and cigarettes. There are strong muscles flexing under the thin t-shirt as Spike shakes with sobs and Angel can feel rough stubble where his son’s face is buried against his neck.
“Sshh. Sshh. It’s okay. It’s alright.”
Time seems to stand still. He can hear cars rushing by on the street behind him, hear the voices of two women chatting happily as they pass. The light breeze feels cool against his close-cropped scalp, the afternoon sun warm on his back.
“Spike?”
Angel looks up and through the blur of unshed tears meets Danny’s eyes where he stands in the doorway, staring at them in shock. Slowly he loosens his hold around his son and pushes him gently away. Spike clings to him a moment longer before stepping back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Danny steps forward and puts one hand on his shoulder, his fingers curling protectively, eyes never leaving Angel.
“Hello, Danny.”
Danny nods at him before leaning closer to Spike. “You alright?”
“I don’t know,” Spike says, eyes locked on his father and just like that he knows it was a mistake coming here. He should have stayed away. Should have spared Will the pain of seeing him again. He doesn’t belong here. He never did.
“I’m sorry,” he says and takes a step back. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Danny slides one arm around Spike’s waist, pulling him closer when he sways on his feet. “It’s been a while.” His voice is calm but his eyes speak volumes. Spike doesn’t say anything, just breathes slowly, in, out, and Danny gives him a worried look and starts stroking his arm.
“Eleven years.”
“Maybe you should come inside. Spike?”
Spike seems to blink awake and he nods. “Yeah. Come in. Dad.”
He turns and walks inside the house, pausing briefly to catch Danny’s hand. The simple gesture makes Angel’s heart ache and for a moment he contemplates turning around and fleeing. Instead he follows them inside, putting his suitcase down in the hallway before entering the apartment. He looks around, taking in what is now his son’s home. The living room is painted pale yellow with a white fireplace. Picture frames clutter the shelves. He recognises Danny’s mother from a couple, looking frailer than he remembers her. He doesn’t dare to ask if she’s still alive. His eyes stop on a picture of Danny and Spike in tuxedos, smiling widely, arms slung across each other’s shoulders. They look so happy he wants to cry.
“June, last year.”
He turns around to find Spike standing behind him, eyes on the picture. His shoulders are hunched, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He’s looking better now, eyes still red-rimmed in a pale face but they’re calm and open and there’s a smile tugging at his lips that Angel knows has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the man in the picture.
“You got married?”
“Yeah. Weird, right? Me, married.” He laughs softly and for a moment he looks fourteen years old again.
“I wouldn’t know.” Angel smiles apologetically when Spike gives him a puzzled look. “I only know you as the child you were. He was a pretty romantic kid.”
Spike bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. Guess I was.”
“Still are, love. Give up the tough act, you’re a big softy.”
Spike turns and smiles at Danny, accepting the mug of tea from his hand. Angel takes the other mug and nods his thanks, watching silently as Danny kisses Spike on the cheek and murmurs something in his ear before leaving the room.
“What did he say?”
Spike looks up. “To let him know if I needed him. And that it’s okay.” He sits down on the couch, taking a small sip of the hot liquid.
Angel swallows. “What is?”
“You being here. Me missing you, despite everything,” Spike adds softly and his knuckles whiten around the mug. “I never thought I’d see you again, dad.”
“I’m sorry. I just… I needed to see that you were alright. And… ask you to forgive me.”
At Spike’s startled look Angel puts away the mug, his words rushing out. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anything, Will. I’ll go away and never bother you again, I promise. I just needed to tell you how sorry I am. For what I did to you. For everything. God, Will, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I understand that you hate me, believe me. I hate myself more than anything. I…”
Spike shakes his head. “Dad, don’t. Please. I don’t hate you.” He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. We were both stupid.”
“Don’t say that! Will, you were a child. And I was your father.” His breath hitches before he can stop himself, eyes filling with tears. “I was supposed to be your father, Will.”
Spike smiles sadly. “You still are. You never stopped being my father, dad.”
“No.” Angel shakes his head. “You can’t do this. You can’t…”
“What? Forgive you? Love you?”
He closes his eyes, tears stinging behind his eyelids. “Don’t. Please, don’t,” he whispers.
“Dad, it was wrong.” Spike touches Angel’s arm lightly and he forces his eyes open, Spike’s own too kind eyes watching him. “Of course it was wrong. I know that now. I have years of therapy and three attempted suicides that tell me that.” He ignores Angel’s shocked look. “You took advantage of me, you used my youth and innocence and I was too naïve to realise.”
“I’m so sorry…” Angel chokes out, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe.
Spike sighs. “Dad, I forgive you. I really do.”
“You can’t.” He shakes his head. “You can’t, Will.”
Spike puts away his tea mug as well and stands up. “Yes, I can. And you know why? Because I need to believe you did love me, and that I loved you.” Spike walks to the window, hands resting on the windowsill as he stares out. “That despite everything, however wrong it was, however sick and twisted and with all the shit it did to me - is still doing to me - it was love.” He glances over his shoulder. “That’s what keeps me sane, dad.”
His eyes turn to the window again, shoulders stiffening. “My therapist disagrees. Danny disagrees. They say the whole blame lies with you and the only way to move on is for me to realise it was never about love. That sexual abuse is never about love. I know they’re right. I mean, the things you did…”
He shakes his head, shoulders trembling, and Angel feels nausea rise in his throat. “But if I accept that as the truth it means that all I have left of us, of you and me and the years we spent together, is this… disgust. Revulsion. I can’t do that. I can’t live with the thought that my whole childhood was just a prelude to one big sick incestuous nightmare.”
“It wasn’t… When you were younger…” Angel stumbles over his words, sobs stuck in his throat. “Never. I never thought of you like that. Not then. We were happy. You and me and your mother. It wasn’t sick. Not then. Will, I promise you.”
Spike nods slowly. “How long then?”
Angel swallows. “The summer before. I don’t know what happened. One day you were just my little Will and then suddenly you were like this Adonis, so beautiful you took my breath away. I couldn’t stop thinking about touching you.” There are tears running down his face, tickling his cheeks, and he just lets them fall. “I tried, I swear I did, but God, I failed. I failed myself and I failed you. And Will, you have to know, none of it was your fault. You were innocent. Never blame yourself. Never. Promise me.”
“I came on to you. It was me. I started it.” He says it in a way that it’s evident he’s said it a hundred times before, a stubborn defence of his own guilt, and Angel wants to put a bullet into his own brain. God, he did this to him.
Slowly he walks over to his son and after a brief hesitation lays one hand on his shoulder. He expects Spike to stiffen or jerk away but instead he leans into the touch, eyes closed, and that simple act makes his eyes well up again and his chest tighten.
“No, Will. You didn’t. I did. It was me. It was all me.”
Spike shakes his head. “No. I remember…”
“It was all me.” He keeps his voice even and firm, leaving no room for doubt. “Everything that happened, I did it to you. You never did anything.”
The young man in front of him starts shaking, crumbling in on himself until he is all but fourteen years old again. “Daddy…”
God. Angel swallows and has to fight to keep from faltering. “I was a bad father, the worst kind. And you were the perfect son. I failed you and you… you loved me. That was your only mistake. Ok? Do you understand?”
Spike sucks in his breath and starts sobbing. “I did love you, daddy. I loved you so much.”
“I know, Will. I know you did. But now you love Danny and he loves you. Very much.”
“He does.” Spike turns in his arms and presses his wet face into Angel’s chest. “He really does, daddy. I’m sorry.”
“Sshh. No.” Angel strokes his back in slow circles. “Don’t be. It’s good. He makes you happy. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am. I am.”
“Ok. That’s good.” He can sense Danny in the doorway, watching them. “That’s all I wanted to know.” He tightens his hold slightly, blinking to clear his vision. “I’m going to leave now, Will, and I’m not coming back.”
He can feel Spike stiffening in his arms, his breath suddenly quickening. “No! Daddy…”
“Sshh. It’s ok. Everything’s gonna be ok. I promise.”
On cue, Danny is by their side and after kissing Spike lightly on the head, Angel pushes him gently away and into Danny’s arms. Spike is staring at him with eyes filled with confusion and hurt and it takes all of Angel’s strength not to grab him and drag him away from there.
“You take care of him, ok?”
Danny nods, his hold tightening around Spike. “I always do.”
“I know. Thank you.” He smiles softly, branding the picture of them into his memory. “Goodbye.”
He walks out, grabbing his suitcase and closing the door on the sounds of Spike’s quiet sobbing and Danny’s soft murmurs of comfort. It’s started to rain, a gentle drizzle that tickles his face. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the cool smell of London in autumn. Leaves and rain and wet pavement. Then he starts walking down the road, brisk steps carrying him away.
His plane back to LA leaves in the morning. They will be waiting for him, after all he broke parole. It doesn’t matter. He has no place being outside anyway.
This is not his world.
fin
Author’s note
When I was just an innocent doe-eyed LJ-er, two of my dearest friends, evilmaniclaugh and hellsbells, started the community sickchicks. This fic can be blamed in its entirety on that. Lol
It started out as just a little ficlet, an answer to a request made by dancetomato to write about my “Coming to bed, daddy?” icon because we were on quite a daddy!kink rush at the moment. We have Angel perving over Spike while they’re eating breakfast. Nothing new there. They get up and go to the car, Angel continuing to perve over a seemingly oblivious Spike as they drive to wherever they’re going. And then the last line hits.
"See you tonight, dad," he says, and walks toward the school, only pausing slightly to give Angel a little wave.
Yeah, I’m evil. I’m also a sucker for last minute revelations and have used it again later, in Never Leave and Sins to name a few.
But now the cat was out of the bag, Spike was an innocent little schoolboy and Angel was his perverted father (although in ch.2 he was revealed to actually be his stepfather because I’m a chicken) and it seemed people liked it and for the next few months I wrote half of what is now the longest series I’ve ever written, Just Watching. Of course, by then the title was completely wrong because they were doing a lot more than just watching! I was on maternity leave and so I sat writing at night, sometimes until as late as six in the morning, and then posted right away, without a beta and on very little sleep. Wasn’t until later that I realised that my POVs were all fucked up, sometimes even changing within the same paragraph. Lol It’s a bit embarrassing really but it would take so much work to fix and I’m not sure I would come out with the same story if I did.
Even if I love the characters in this dearly, not only the main ones but my OCs too, Martha and Danny’s mum, this story was very hard to write. It’s a highly emotional story and it effected me deeply at times, so much that I had to take a break from writing it. That break lasted a whole year. When I finally managed to break the block I re-posted the whole thing unlocked on my journal, back dating it to the same date as it was originally posted locked on sickchicks (just if you were wondering why practically no one seems to have commented, that would be why, it's not the same entry) and set out to finish it. That didn’t work. 4 chapters later I got stuck again and this time it took me two years to get back to it.
In fact you can thank thatotherperv for this finally being here. Because I did finish writing it a few months ago and then was scared to post it. Now that you’ve read it I think you can gather why. But she mentioned it on a rec list she made and when I told her of its status she urged me to go ahead and after a brief hesitation, (and some last minute editing) I did.
The thing is, this was never meant to have a happy ever after ending. Not for Spike and Angel, together. How could it? We have a father who rapes his son and then makes him believe it’s his own fault. We have a kid who is so desperate for his father’s love he’ll do anything to get it. The mere thought of his father being angry with him has Spike in panic attacks, making him physically ill. He is fourteen years old and he sees their relationship with the eyes of a fourteen year old. He thinks it’s the love of his life, that he can’t live without Angel. And Angel is so smitten, so overcome with his own feelings he can’t see the child anymore, he just sees this sexual being that he wants more than anything. I’m not saying they didn’t love each other, that they don’t still love each other, but it wasn’t a healthy kind of love and it had no place flourishing. That was just never to be and if anyone feels cheated by that I’m sorry.
I try beyond anything to make my stories believable, to make them feel real. Like these are real persons living somewhere out there in the real world. Now ask yourself, if you knew these people were out there, maybe even living in your street; if Spike was a kid in your class, or in your kid’s class; if Angel was the policeman cruising your neighbourhood, supposed to be keeping it save from bad men… What would you expect to happen to them? Think about that.
That’s all I ask.
Lastly, if anyone is still reading, I’d like to thank all of you who have stuck with me through this whole journey. I really doubt this would have ever gone beyond the first few chapters if it hadn’t been for people such as evilmaniclaugh and hellsbells and greenstone_j being there, urging me on and always ready to talk me through the difficulties.
65.224 words. It’s taken me three years, 4 months and three days to finish this. I really hope it was worth the wait.
Title: Just Watching, Epilogue
Author: felisblanco
Pairings/characters: Spike/Angel, Spike/Danny, OFCs
Rating: NC-17++
Summary: Spike is Angel's teenaged stepson. Sex happens. And that is the worst summary ever.
Warnings: AU Human. Underage sex, step!incest, non-con, daddy!kink, spanking, angstangstangstx100
Author's Note: Thanks again to evilmaniclaugh for looking it over. *smooch* I've written half an essay at the end of this, explaining a few things and just general musings about this story. I hope that's okay.
Previous chapters are here.
Epilogue
“Your passport, sir.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you, sir, and I hope you have a pleasant stay.”
He nods and tightens the grip on his suitcase. People keep bumping into him and he swallows down the panic. He’s sure they can tell, can see it in his eyes. Any moment now someone will stop and point at him.
It takes forever to get out of the huge airport and when he finally steps outside the fresh air hits him in the face. It smells of plane fuel and car fumes. Of freedom. He takes a deep breath and it stutters in his throat. Not gonna cry. Not gonna cry.
A cab honks its horn at him as he steps onto the street, failing to look in the right direction. It misses him by a few inches, the Indian driver shaking his fist out the window.
Yeah, yeah. Fuck you too.
Another cab swings up by his side and he gets in, rambling of the address on the envelope in his pocket. It’s autumn and the colours of the leaves on the trees and bushes are beautiful, the air crisp and relatively clear. All around him people are rushing to different destinations. Living their lives as if nothing has happened.
He sits back and closes his eyes. He feels so tired and not just because of the six hour flight.
He jerks awake when the driver shouts out an, “Oi! Wake up, we’re there!” He pays the fare and gets out, putting the small suitcase down on the pavement as he looks around. It’s a quiet street, only a few cars parked by the curb. Not many at home at this time of day. He takes a deep breath and turns around, facing the house. There’s a small patch of grass in front, what probably counts as a garden in these parts. The walls are white, the windowpanes and door black. Yellow curtains block the view through the windows.
Bending down he grabs the suitcase and straightens up slowly, heart hammering in his chest. He swings open the small gate. It creaks on its hinges. He closes it behind him and walks up to the door. He raises his hand and his fingers tremble as he pushes the small bell. Then stands still, unable to breathe as he waits.
There’s the sound of feet hurrying down stairs and then the door is swung open and he sucks in his breath.
“Yea-?” The young man in front of him freezes, blue eyes open wide and so clear Angel can see his reflection. He stands blinking repeatedly, and then suddenly his face crumples and he staggers forward, hands coming up to clutch Angel’s sweat drenched shirt. “Dad? Daddy?”
Angel’s eyes close as he wraps his arms around the slender form, burying his face in the golden hair. He smells differently now, like curry and tea and cigarettes. There are strong muscles flexing under the thin t-shirt as Spike shakes with sobs and Angel can feel rough stubble where his son’s face is buried against his neck.
“Sshh. Sshh. It’s okay. It’s alright.”
Time seems to stand still. He can hear cars rushing by on the street behind him, hear the voices of two women chatting happily as they pass. The light breeze feels cool against his close-cropped scalp, the afternoon sun warm on his back.
“Spike?”
Angel looks up and through the blur of unshed tears meets Danny’s eyes where he stands in the doorway, staring at them in shock. Slowly he loosens his hold around his son and pushes him gently away. Spike clings to him a moment longer before stepping back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. Danny steps forward and puts one hand on his shoulder, his fingers curling protectively, eyes never leaving Angel.
“Hello, Danny.”
Danny nods at him before leaning closer to Spike. “You alright?”
“I don’t know,” Spike says, eyes locked on his father and just like that he knows it was a mistake coming here. He should have stayed away. Should have spared Will the pain of seeing him again. He doesn’t belong here. He never did.
“I’m sorry,” he says and takes a step back. “I shouldn’t have come.”
Danny slides one arm around Spike’s waist, pulling him closer when he sways on his feet. “It’s been a while.” His voice is calm but his eyes speak volumes. Spike doesn’t say anything, just breathes slowly, in, out, and Danny gives him a worried look and starts stroking his arm.
“Eleven years.”
“Maybe you should come inside. Spike?”
Spike seems to blink awake and he nods. “Yeah. Come in. Dad.”
He turns and walks inside the house, pausing briefly to catch Danny’s hand. The simple gesture makes Angel’s heart ache and for a moment he contemplates turning around and fleeing. Instead he follows them inside, putting his suitcase down in the hallway before entering the apartment. He looks around, taking in what is now his son’s home. The living room is painted pale yellow with a white fireplace. Picture frames clutter the shelves. He recognises Danny’s mother from a couple, looking frailer than he remembers her. He doesn’t dare to ask if she’s still alive. His eyes stop on a picture of Danny and Spike in tuxedos, smiling widely, arms slung across each other’s shoulders. They look so happy he wants to cry.
“June, last year.”
He turns around to find Spike standing behind him, eyes on the picture. His shoulders are hunched, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. He’s looking better now, eyes still red-rimmed in a pale face but they’re calm and open and there’s a smile tugging at his lips that Angel knows has nothing to do with him and everything to do with the man in the picture.
“You got married?”
“Yeah. Weird, right? Me, married.” He laughs softly and for a moment he looks fourteen years old again.
“I wouldn’t know.” Angel smiles apologetically when Spike gives him a puzzled look. “I only know you as the child you were. He was a pretty romantic kid.”
Spike bites his lip and nods. “Yeah. Guess I was.”
“Still are, love. Give up the tough act, you’re a big softy.”
Spike turns and smiles at Danny, accepting the mug of tea from his hand. Angel takes the other mug and nods his thanks, watching silently as Danny kisses Spike on the cheek and murmurs something in his ear before leaving the room.
“What did he say?”
Spike looks up. “To let him know if I needed him. And that it’s okay.” He sits down on the couch, taking a small sip of the hot liquid.
Angel swallows. “What is?”
“You being here. Me missing you, despite everything,” Spike adds softly and his knuckles whiten around the mug. “I never thought I’d see you again, dad.”
“I’m sorry. I just… I needed to see that you were alright. And… ask you to forgive me.”
At Spike’s startled look Angel puts away the mug, his words rushing out. “I don’t expect you to. I don’t expect anything, Will. I’ll go away and never bother you again, I promise. I just needed to tell you how sorry I am. For what I did to you. For everything. God, Will, I’m so sorry. I’m so damn sorry. I understand that you hate me, believe me. I hate myself more than anything. I…”
Spike shakes his head. “Dad, don’t. Please. I don’t hate you.” He shrugs. “It was a long time ago. We were both stupid.”
“Don’t say that! Will, you were a child. And I was your father.” His breath hitches before he can stop himself, eyes filling with tears. “I was supposed to be your father, Will.”
Spike smiles sadly. “You still are. You never stopped being my father, dad.”
“No.” Angel shakes his head. “You can’t do this. You can’t…”
“What? Forgive you? Love you?”
He closes his eyes, tears stinging behind his eyelids. “Don’t. Please, don’t,” he whispers.
“Dad, it was wrong.” Spike touches Angel’s arm lightly and he forces his eyes open, Spike’s own too kind eyes watching him. “Of course it was wrong. I know that now. I have years of therapy and three attempted suicides that tell me that.” He ignores Angel’s shocked look. “You took advantage of me, you used my youth and innocence and I was too naïve to realise.”
“I’m so sorry…” Angel chokes out, the lump in his throat making it hard to breathe.
Spike sighs. “Dad, I forgive you. I really do.”
“You can’t.” He shakes his head. “You can’t, Will.”
Spike puts away his tea mug as well and stands up. “Yes, I can. And you know why? Because I need to believe you did love me, and that I loved you.” Spike walks to the window, hands resting on the windowsill as he stares out. “That despite everything, however wrong it was, however sick and twisted and with all the shit it did to me - is still doing to me - it was love.” He glances over his shoulder. “That’s what keeps me sane, dad.”
His eyes turn to the window again, shoulders stiffening. “My therapist disagrees. Danny disagrees. They say the whole blame lies with you and the only way to move on is for me to realise it was never about love. That sexual abuse is never about love. I know they’re right. I mean, the things you did…”
He shakes his head, shoulders trembling, and Angel feels nausea rise in his throat. “But if I accept that as the truth it means that all I have left of us, of you and me and the years we spent together, is this… disgust. Revulsion. I can’t do that. I can’t live with the thought that my whole childhood was just a prelude to one big sick incestuous nightmare.”
“It wasn’t… When you were younger…” Angel stumbles over his words, sobs stuck in his throat. “Never. I never thought of you like that. Not then. We were happy. You and me and your mother. It wasn’t sick. Not then. Will, I promise you.”
Spike nods slowly. “How long then?”
Angel swallows. “The summer before. I don’t know what happened. One day you were just my little Will and then suddenly you were like this Adonis, so beautiful you took my breath away. I couldn’t stop thinking about touching you.” There are tears running down his face, tickling his cheeks, and he just lets them fall. “I tried, I swear I did, but God, I failed. I failed myself and I failed you. And Will, you have to know, none of it was your fault. You were innocent. Never blame yourself. Never. Promise me.”
“I came on to you. It was me. I started it.” He says it in a way that it’s evident he’s said it a hundred times before, a stubborn defence of his own guilt, and Angel wants to put a bullet into his own brain. God, he did this to him.
Slowly he walks over to his son and after a brief hesitation lays one hand on his shoulder. He expects Spike to stiffen or jerk away but instead he leans into the touch, eyes closed, and that simple act makes his eyes well up again and his chest tighten.
“No, Will. You didn’t. I did. It was me. It was all me.”
Spike shakes his head. “No. I remember…”
“It was all me.” He keeps his voice even and firm, leaving no room for doubt. “Everything that happened, I did it to you. You never did anything.”
The young man in front of him starts shaking, crumbling in on himself until he is all but fourteen years old again. “Daddy…”
God. Angel swallows and has to fight to keep from faltering. “I was a bad father, the worst kind. And you were the perfect son. I failed you and you… you loved me. That was your only mistake. Ok? Do you understand?”
Spike sucks in his breath and starts sobbing. “I did love you, daddy. I loved you so much.”
“I know, Will. I know you did. But now you love Danny and he loves you. Very much.”
“He does.” Spike turns in his arms and presses his wet face into Angel’s chest. “He really does, daddy. I’m sorry.”
“Sshh. No.” Angel strokes his back in slow circles. “Don’t be. It’s good. He makes you happy. I just want you to be happy.”
“I am. I am.”
“Ok. That’s good.” He can sense Danny in the doorway, watching them. “That’s all I wanted to know.” He tightens his hold slightly, blinking to clear his vision. “I’m going to leave now, Will, and I’m not coming back.”
He can feel Spike stiffening in his arms, his breath suddenly quickening. “No! Daddy…”
“Sshh. It’s ok. Everything’s gonna be ok. I promise.”
On cue, Danny is by their side and after kissing Spike lightly on the head, Angel pushes him gently away and into Danny’s arms. Spike is staring at him with eyes filled with confusion and hurt and it takes all of Angel’s strength not to grab him and drag him away from there.
“You take care of him, ok?”
Danny nods, his hold tightening around Spike. “I always do.”
“I know. Thank you.” He smiles softly, branding the picture of them into his memory. “Goodbye.”
He walks out, grabbing his suitcase and closing the door on the sounds of Spike’s quiet sobbing and Danny’s soft murmurs of comfort. It’s started to rain, a gentle drizzle that tickles his face. He takes a deep breath, breathing in the cool smell of London in autumn. Leaves and rain and wet pavement. Then he starts walking down the road, brisk steps carrying him away.
His plane back to LA leaves in the morning. They will be waiting for him, after all he broke parole. It doesn’t matter. He has no place being outside anyway.
This is not his world.
fin
Author’s note
When I was just an innocent doe-eyed LJ-er, two of my dearest friends, evilmaniclaugh and hellsbells, started the community sickchicks. This fic can be blamed in its entirety on that. Lol
It started out as just a little ficlet, an answer to a request made by dancetomato to write about my “Coming to bed, daddy?” icon because we were on quite a daddy!kink rush at the moment. We have Angel perving over Spike while they’re eating breakfast. Nothing new there. They get up and go to the car, Angel continuing to perve over a seemingly oblivious Spike as they drive to wherever they’re going. And then the last line hits.
"See you tonight, dad," he says, and walks toward the school, only pausing slightly to give Angel a little wave.
Yeah, I’m evil. I’m also a sucker for last minute revelations and have used it again later, in Never Leave and Sins to name a few.
But now the cat was out of the bag, Spike was an innocent little schoolboy and Angel was his perverted father (although in ch.2 he was revealed to actually be his stepfather because I’m a chicken) and it seemed people liked it and for the next few months I wrote half of what is now the longest series I’ve ever written, Just Watching. Of course, by then the title was completely wrong because they were doing a lot more than just watching! I was on maternity leave and so I sat writing at night, sometimes until as late as six in the morning, and then posted right away, without a beta and on very little sleep. Wasn’t until later that I realised that my POVs were all fucked up, sometimes even changing within the same paragraph. Lol It’s a bit embarrassing really but it would take so much work to fix and I’m not sure I would come out with the same story if I did.
Even if I love the characters in this dearly, not only the main ones but my OCs too, Martha and Danny’s mum, this story was very hard to write. It’s a highly emotional story and it effected me deeply at times, so much that I had to take a break from writing it. That break lasted a whole year. When I finally managed to break the block I re-posted the whole thing unlocked on my journal, back dating it to the same date as it was originally posted locked on sickchicks (just if you were wondering why practically no one seems to have commented, that would be why, it's not the same entry) and set out to finish it. That didn’t work. 4 chapters later I got stuck again and this time it took me two years to get back to it.
In fact you can thank thatotherperv for this finally being here. Because I did finish writing it a few months ago and then was scared to post it. Now that you’ve read it I think you can gather why. But she mentioned it on a rec list she made and when I told her of its status she urged me to go ahead and after a brief hesitation, (and some last minute editing) I did.
The thing is, this was never meant to have a happy ever after ending. Not for Spike and Angel, together. How could it? We have a father who rapes his son and then makes him believe it’s his own fault. We have a kid who is so desperate for his father’s love he’ll do anything to get it. The mere thought of his father being angry with him has Spike in panic attacks, making him physically ill. He is fourteen years old and he sees their relationship with the eyes of a fourteen year old. He thinks it’s the love of his life, that he can’t live without Angel. And Angel is so smitten, so overcome with his own feelings he can’t see the child anymore, he just sees this sexual being that he wants more than anything. I’m not saying they didn’t love each other, that they don’t still love each other, but it wasn’t a healthy kind of love and it had no place flourishing. That was just never to be and if anyone feels cheated by that I’m sorry.
I try beyond anything to make my stories believable, to make them feel real. Like these are real persons living somewhere out there in the real world. Now ask yourself, if you knew these people were out there, maybe even living in your street; if Spike was a kid in your class, or in your kid’s class; if Angel was the policeman cruising your neighbourhood, supposed to be keeping it save from bad men… What would you expect to happen to them? Think about that.
That’s all I ask.
Lastly, if anyone is still reading, I’d like to thank all of you who have stuck with me through this whole journey. I really doubt this would have ever gone beyond the first few chapters if it hadn’t been for people such as evilmaniclaugh and hellsbells and greenstone_j being there, urging me on and always ready to talk me through the difficulties.
65.224 words. It’s taken me three years, 4 months and three days to finish this. I really hope it was worth the wait.