Story: "Between Somewhere and Nothing" - Spike/Illyria
This is my account for a second run at tamingthemuse
Title: Between Somewhere and Nothing
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: PG
Fandom: After the Fall (A sort of AU during one of Illyria's time jumps)
Prompts: "Nihilism" at tamingthemuse, "Helpless" at MB, "Months" at fanfic100
Pairing: Spike/Illyria
Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or any spin-offs of it. Joss pretty much threw this pairing at me and said, 'Here, write it! Keep the hope alive!'
Summary: Illyria lost control of her power and took everyone back to the 19th century for a split second. What if that split second had actually lasted a lot longer for them?
I know, I know, it's a lot of Tell instead of Show. I'm sorry, I didn't have much time to flesh out a full-fledged story, but I'm seriously considering it.
This is how he would have chosen to live out his life the first time around, had he been given the choice. William never fit into his century and so embraced the next two that he experienced, taking in the thrills of growing technologies and culture. More specifically, the many different tastes that certain cultures had. The Latinos really were spicy; the English more bland; the Americans only slightly sweeter.
Drusilla was a connoisseur of blood types and managed to find flavors varying from ice cream to ketchup. She was his lustrous siren calling him to the dark delights, but even she wasn't something that completely satisfied him.
Times changed. It wasn't until he met a living god that he fully realized it could flow both ways. Her power was overwhelming, causing her to skip through pocket dimensions that weren't meant to exist. When the skips became even more frequent, she would take those around her along for the ride.
He could barely remember the images of hell now, except for when he dreamed. Maybe it was his younger, human memory that washed it away. The demons only lingered in dreams and in a few of the companions that he still saw. They all went separate ways when the skip became permanent, Illyria no longer being influenced by the hell dimensions that had diverged into Los Angeles. The women enjoyed the new chance at life, and even he adjusted to the conditions. He wasn't Spike anymore, but his experiences didn't allow him to truly be William, either. He was too young for them to consider, or even remember as the champion he'd been. It vaguely annoyed him at first, but was too bewildered to do more than stand still while they kissed his cheeks and bid him farewell.
Illyria's true form was something he could have only dreamed of, even having read H.G. Wells. She was a rich blood-red color, sometimes darkening to a purple. Her body was formidable; an invulnerable being with multiple tentacles and more power than one could speak of. She stayed with him, bewildered and weak when she finally regained her humanoid shape.
She regarded him as a child, unsure of how to react to a young, human Spike. Physically, he probably was a child, although he would never acknowledge it. On the inside, he was still a well-traveled, ancient being. He patiently explained this to her, in little detail while sitting at the edge of a pond with her. His fingertips traced the inside of her palm as he compared their similar situations. Illyria understood it, even seemed to emphasize more with him and took on an almost motherly persona towards him, which wasn't hard with her Fred personality becoming her predominant choice. It was necessary, given the times, but it didn't help to quench his love for her.
Much to his mother's surprise, he retained the blonde hair, which she chalked up to all of the summer sun during his holiday. Illyria made a charming guest, Fred's naturally sweet personality radiating off of her. She made a good companion for his mother, and soon became just another part of the family. Spike found himself falling for her, sickening overwhelmed by an inescapable crush. Her smile, laughter, and sun-soaked hair completely melted through him, melted through any thing he'd ever known before. Only those rare moments when her eyes became cold and glass-like did he remember that a supreme being lurked under her soft skin.
Her protectiveness towards him did not relent, no matter the circumstance. She was even more drawn to him now, intrigued by how his younger age made him even less able to reign in emotions. He had no patience to explain adolescence to her. Spike's only objective experience with it had been with Dawn, and he didn't want to liken himself to a teenage girl even in his head.
The dreams about hell still plagued him at night, mingled with fears of watching his mother die again. He gave up trying to explain it to Illyria. She was the sole reminder that the hell was real, and probably was still real. It was hard to tell whether the dreams were real or not, until he woke, frustrated to find himself weak and defenseless, heart thudding in his chest. His life as a vampire crusader became something like a fantasy.
Only fifteen months passed, but it felt like an eternity to him, forced to take the slow path in life once again. He would not live to be one hundred, would probably not even live to be forty. His nightmares did not fade over time, etched permanently into his subconscious, but it was hard for him to remember the details in the waking hours.
After a year, he woke from one of his terrors to find Fred perched on the edge of his bed, leaning over him with great concern and curiosity. He mumbled some moody demand for her to go away, closing his eyes at the whine in his voice. Instead she slid a hand over his bare chest, repeatedly petting the silken skin. He opened his eyes, putting a hand over hers to stop the torturous action. Spike understood her fascination for him then; his heart was racing beneath their hands, the hard muscles he'd developed gone, his skin tender with youth.
Her hand slid out from under his, arms wrapping around him as she settled alongside him. Her proximity was wreaking havoc on him, but her embrace was too good to resist. There was some completeness there as she held him, reminding him of salvation on a night when the world was going to end. Things always carried on for him, and he knew that it would not end here, although he would have gladly accepted death. It was merely a precious interlude before he would have to return to world he'd left behind. And when they moment came, he doubted a second would have passed.
Title: Between Somewhere and Nothing
Author: Guardian Erin
Rating: PG
Fandom: After the Fall (A sort of AU during one of Illyria's time jumps)
Prompts: "Nihilism" at tamingthemuse, "Helpless" at MB, "Months" at fanfic100
Pairing: Spike/Illyria
Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or any spin-offs of it. Joss pretty much threw this pairing at me and said, 'Here, write it! Keep the hope alive!'
Summary: Illyria lost control of her power and took everyone back to the 19th century for a split second. What if that split second had actually lasted a lot longer for them?
I know, I know, it's a lot of Tell instead of Show. I'm sorry, I didn't have much time to flesh out a full-fledged story, but I'm seriously considering it.
This is how he would have chosen to live out his life the first time around, had he been given the choice. William never fit into his century and so embraced the next two that he experienced, taking in the thrills of growing technologies and culture. More specifically, the many different tastes that certain cultures had. The Latinos really were spicy; the English more bland; the Americans only slightly sweeter.
Drusilla was a connoisseur of blood types and managed to find flavors varying from ice cream to ketchup. She was his lustrous siren calling him to the dark delights, but even she wasn't something that completely satisfied him.
Times changed. It wasn't until he met a living god that he fully realized it could flow both ways. Her power was overwhelming, causing her to skip through pocket dimensions that weren't meant to exist. When the skips became even more frequent, she would take those around her along for the ride.
He could barely remember the images of hell now, except for when he dreamed. Maybe it was his younger, human memory that washed it away. The demons only lingered in dreams and in a few of the companions that he still saw. They all went separate ways when the skip became permanent, Illyria no longer being influenced by the hell dimensions that had diverged into Los Angeles. The women enjoyed the new chance at life, and even he adjusted to the conditions. He wasn't Spike anymore, but his experiences didn't allow him to truly be William, either. He was too young for them to consider, or even remember as the champion he'd been. It vaguely annoyed him at first, but was too bewildered to do more than stand still while they kissed his cheeks and bid him farewell.
Illyria's true form was something he could have only dreamed of, even having read H.G. Wells. She was a rich blood-red color, sometimes darkening to a purple. Her body was formidable; an invulnerable being with multiple tentacles and more power than one could speak of. She stayed with him, bewildered and weak when she finally regained her humanoid shape.
She regarded him as a child, unsure of how to react to a young, human Spike. Physically, he probably was a child, although he would never acknowledge it. On the inside, he was still a well-traveled, ancient being. He patiently explained this to her, in little detail while sitting at the edge of a pond with her. His fingertips traced the inside of her palm as he compared their similar situations. Illyria understood it, even seemed to emphasize more with him and took on an almost motherly persona towards him, which wasn't hard with her Fred personality becoming her predominant choice. It was necessary, given the times, but it didn't help to quench his love for her.
Much to his mother's surprise, he retained the blonde hair, which she chalked up to all of the summer sun during his holiday. Illyria made a charming guest, Fred's naturally sweet personality radiating off of her. She made a good companion for his mother, and soon became just another part of the family. Spike found himself falling for her, sickening overwhelmed by an inescapable crush. Her smile, laughter, and sun-soaked hair completely melted through him, melted through any thing he'd ever known before. Only those rare moments when her eyes became cold and glass-like did he remember that a supreme being lurked under her soft skin.
Her protectiveness towards him did not relent, no matter the circumstance. She was even more drawn to him now, intrigued by how his younger age made him even less able to reign in emotions. He had no patience to explain adolescence to her. Spike's only objective experience with it had been with Dawn, and he didn't want to liken himself to a teenage girl even in his head.
The dreams about hell still plagued him at night, mingled with fears of watching his mother die again. He gave up trying to explain it to Illyria. She was the sole reminder that the hell was real, and probably was still real. It was hard to tell whether the dreams were real or not, until he woke, frustrated to find himself weak and defenseless, heart thudding in his chest. His life as a vampire crusader became something like a fantasy.
Only fifteen months passed, but it felt like an eternity to him, forced to take the slow path in life once again. He would not live to be one hundred, would probably not even live to be forty. His nightmares did not fade over time, etched permanently into his subconscious, but it was hard for him to remember the details in the waking hours.
After a year, he woke from one of his terrors to find Fred perched on the edge of his bed, leaning over him with great concern and curiosity. He mumbled some moody demand for her to go away, closing his eyes at the whine in his voice. Instead she slid a hand over his bare chest, repeatedly petting the silken skin. He opened his eyes, putting a hand over hers to stop the torturous action. Spike understood her fascination for him then; his heart was racing beneath their hands, the hard muscles he'd developed gone, his skin tender with youth.
Her hand slid out from under his, arms wrapping around him as she settled alongside him. Her proximity was wreaking havoc on him, but her embrace was too good to resist. There was some completeness there as she held him, reminding him of salvation on a night when the world was going to end. Things always carried on for him, and he knew that it would not end here, although he would have gladly accepted death. It was merely a precious interlude before he would have to return to world he'd left behind. And when they moment came, he doubted a second would have passed.