Improvising Atonement, 2/?
Nov. 23rd, 2007 05:31 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Implied Spike/Dru, Spike/Xander pre-slash
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: A vampire with a soul comes to Sunnydale to help The Slayer. Can a demon ever atone?
A/N: Thanks again tonoandwhere for her wonderful beta work. I'm pretty sure there's no dialogue in here from any episode, but it is based on "The Harvest", so if you see anything you recognize, that's where it came from.
He’d expected Darla to fly at him, fangs and claws bared. He should have known better; She didn’t go for the kill when she could go for the pain. She smiled at him, and some half-forgotten part of him remembered when he’d found that malicious smile exciting. As the three kids scrambled towards freedom, she reached out and snatched one, dragging him off while Spike wrestled with the duo that had decided to double-team him.
There were too many and he was too weak. Years of feeding on animal blood had left him with less strength than these pathetic excuses he was tangling with. A sharp pain blossomed on his left side and he snarled, reaching out and twisting the head off the nearest vampire. The other one, a female so new he could still smell the grave on her, danced out his reach. He stumbled, feeling the blood pouring out of his body.
“Come on,” she taunted him, beckoning him towards her. “Time to play.”
He snorted, lashing out with a vicious kick. If he could get her down, he could dust her. She jumped, agilely dodging the follow-up blow he threw at her. She opened her mouth to throw another verbal jab, and he watched as she rapidly disintegrated.
“If you can’t say something nice,” The Slayer observed, “you shouldn’t say anything at all.”
“The kids,” Spike gasped, dropping to one knee. “They ran…”
The girl nodded sharply, dashing off. Spike shook his head, trying to clear his mind. This was the first time he’d been close to a Slayer in thirty years. The buzz, the hum of power that Slayers projected was distracting.
She came back quickly, her little red-haired friend supporting a brunet boy. Spike stared up at them through his lashes. He recognized the boy, the scent of him at any rate. The scent of male musk, hot and sweet and a little bitter, wafted from him and Spike smiled darkly. A likely lad, dark-eyed and full lipped, just the sort he enjoyed.
“Thanks,” the boy said gruffly. “If you hadn’t come along, we’d…”
“Have been rescued by Blondie,” Spike interrupted. “She’s the hero here, not me. I just popped in at the right time.”
“No,” the redhead insisted. “You were all brave and stuff, too. And can we go home now because I’m thinking that I need to hide under my covers for a few years?”
“The other boy,” Spike said, staring at the Slayer. “They took him. Dragged him off to I don’t know where.”
“Jesse,” the brunet whispered, big eyes clouding over.
“Look,” the Slayer said softly. “I’ll find him, okay? Tomorrow, I promise. Let’s get you guys home.”
With one last look at Spike, the Slayer hustled her chums out of the cemetery. Spike dragged himself up, feeling the sting of his wound. This one would be a few days in healing, but worth it. He’d helped the Slayer save her little friends and he'd gotten a piece of information he hadn’t had before. Darla was here.
He made it back to his apartment without incident, a rarity on a Hellmouth. It was still early, and most vamps were still out scouting for a meal. Spike felt a pang of regret that he wouldn’t be out tonight, but in his condition, he’d likely end up a victim and not a savior.
He slipped off his ruined t-shirt, staring sullenly at the huge rip in the fabric. Replacing clothing was a bitch. Trying to find a shop open late enough that stocked anything decent was worse than the fights that ruined the clothes in first place. He stalked toward the ‘fridge, grabbing a container of blood.
As he watched the red liquid spinning the microwave, he thought back over the night. Slayer’d held her own, even rescued his sorry arse. Poor form, for the help to be in need of rescue. Darla was always a canny one, and she never picked a fight unless she knew she could win. Must be where Angelus got it fr…
He froze. That stray thought set forth an avalanche in his brain. Darla was here. If she was here, so was Angelus and if not, he wouldn’t be far behind her. Not that Angelus gave a toss about freeing the old bat, but he did worship his sire. And where Angelus went, so went Dru…
Spike grimaced. His mad Sire, dark and lovely. There were nights he missed her, craved her like a drug. He shouldn’t, but he did. She’d seen him, loved him, when no one else had and for that, he was forever grateful. But she’d also driven him away, tried to destroy him. Sometimes, no matter how much it hurt, he thought that he’d give up his soul to have her look at him with love one more time.
But, even as he drank his blood and tried to map out where Darla could have taken the whelp, a pair of dark eyes kept distracting him. It wasn’t long ‘til Spike realized he wasn’t thinking of Dru, but of the boy he’d seen tonight.
Wasn’t the first dark-eyed boy he’d seen, but none of the others had smelled so…enticing. The boy was a bloody cocktail of fear and rage and lust and…Spike paused, trying to figure it out. Love, he finally decided. The boy smelt like love.
Time to pack it in, Spike chuckled to himself, when you’re mooning over children ‘stead of trying to do your duty. He’d catch a few hours kip, then meet up with the Slayer. He’d finally figured it out and he was willing to bet she had too. Not exactly his cup of tea, but she seemed to be whip sharp and that was good enough for now.
Chapter 3
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: A vampire with a soul comes to Sunnydale to help The Slayer. Can a demon ever atone?
A/N: Thanks again to
noandwhere for her wonderful beta work. I'm pretty sure there's no dialogue in here from any episode, but it is based on "The Harvest", so if you see anything you recognize, that's where it came from.He’d expected Darla to fly at him, fangs and claws bared. He should have known better; She didn’t go for the kill when she could go for the pain. She smiled at him, and some half-forgotten part of him remembered when he’d found that malicious smile exciting. As the three kids scrambled towards freedom, she reached out and snatched one, dragging him off while Spike wrestled with the duo that had decided to double-team him.
There were too many and he was too weak. Years of feeding on animal blood had left him with less strength than these pathetic excuses he was tangling with. A sharp pain blossomed on his left side and he snarled, reaching out and twisting the head off the nearest vampire. The other one, a female so new he could still smell the grave on her, danced out his reach. He stumbled, feeling the blood pouring out of his body.
“Come on,” she taunted him, beckoning him towards her. “Time to play.”
He snorted, lashing out with a vicious kick. If he could get her down, he could dust her. She jumped, agilely dodging the follow-up blow he threw at her. She opened her mouth to throw another verbal jab, and he watched as she rapidly disintegrated.
“If you can’t say something nice,” The Slayer observed, “you shouldn’t say anything at all.”
“The kids,” Spike gasped, dropping to one knee. “They ran…”
The girl nodded sharply, dashing off. Spike shook his head, trying to clear his mind. This was the first time he’d been close to a Slayer in thirty years. The buzz, the hum of power that Slayers projected was distracting.
She came back quickly, her little red-haired friend supporting a brunet boy. Spike stared up at them through his lashes. He recognized the boy, the scent of him at any rate. The scent of male musk, hot and sweet and a little bitter, wafted from him and Spike smiled darkly. A likely lad, dark-eyed and full lipped, just the sort he enjoyed.
“Thanks,” the boy said gruffly. “If you hadn’t come along, we’d…”
“Have been rescued by Blondie,” Spike interrupted. “She’s the hero here, not me. I just popped in at the right time.”
“No,” the redhead insisted. “You were all brave and stuff, too. And can we go home now because I’m thinking that I need to hide under my covers for a few years?”
“The other boy,” Spike said, staring at the Slayer. “They took him. Dragged him off to I don’t know where.”
“Jesse,” the brunet whispered, big eyes clouding over.
“Look,” the Slayer said softly. “I’ll find him, okay? Tomorrow, I promise. Let’s get you guys home.”
With one last look at Spike, the Slayer hustled her chums out of the cemetery. Spike dragged himself up, feeling the sting of his wound. This one would be a few days in healing, but worth it. He’d helped the Slayer save her little friends and he'd gotten a piece of information he hadn’t had before. Darla was here.
He made it back to his apartment without incident, a rarity on a Hellmouth. It was still early, and most vamps were still out scouting for a meal. Spike felt a pang of regret that he wouldn’t be out tonight, but in his condition, he’d likely end up a victim and not a savior.
He slipped off his ruined t-shirt, staring sullenly at the huge rip in the fabric. Replacing clothing was a bitch. Trying to find a shop open late enough that stocked anything decent was worse than the fights that ruined the clothes in first place. He stalked toward the ‘fridge, grabbing a container of blood.
As he watched the red liquid spinning the microwave, he thought back over the night. Slayer’d held her own, even rescued his sorry arse. Poor form, for the help to be in need of rescue. Darla was always a canny one, and she never picked a fight unless she knew she could win. Must be where Angelus got it fr…
He froze. That stray thought set forth an avalanche in his brain. Darla was here. If she was here, so was Angelus and if not, he wouldn’t be far behind her. Not that Angelus gave a toss about freeing the old bat, but he did worship his sire. And where Angelus went, so went Dru…
Spike grimaced. His mad Sire, dark and lovely. There were nights he missed her, craved her like a drug. He shouldn’t, but he did. She’d seen him, loved him, when no one else had and for that, he was forever grateful. But she’d also driven him away, tried to destroy him. Sometimes, no matter how much it hurt, he thought that he’d give up his soul to have her look at him with love one more time.
But, even as he drank his blood and tried to map out where Darla could have taken the whelp, a pair of dark eyes kept distracting him. It wasn’t long ‘til Spike realized he wasn’t thinking of Dru, but of the boy he’d seen tonight.
Wasn’t the first dark-eyed boy he’d seen, but none of the others had smelled so…enticing. The boy was a bloody cocktail of fear and rage and lust and…Spike paused, trying to figure it out. Love, he finally decided. The boy smelt like love.
Time to pack it in, Spike chuckled to himself, when you’re mooning over children ‘stead of trying to do your duty. He’d catch a few hours kip, then meet up with the Slayer. He’d finally figured it out and he was willing to bet she had too. Not exactly his cup of tea, but she seemed to be whip sharp and that was good enough for now.
Chapter 3
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2007-11-23 10:43 pm (UTC)And yay, second chapter so soon! This is getting better and better sweetie!
*kisses*
no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-23 11:22 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 01:43 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 01:54 am (UTC)*Mwah*
no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:29 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 03:16 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 04:41 am (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:30 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 07:24 am (UTC)That was fantastic, can't wait to see where it goes from here. Come in plot bunnies. :)
no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:31 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 04:32 pm (UTC)I loved this visceral line: "She smiled at him, and some half-forgotten part of him remembered when he’d found that malicious smile exciting." It seems Spike hasn't been thinking about his family much at all.
no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:33 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:02 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-24 08:34 pm (UTC)OH, btw...I'll be announcing the Holiday Art Challenge tonight, but do you think you could get someone to cover my recs? I know it's short notice, but I don't think my wrists can take too much more typing... :(
Sorry!
no subject
on 2007-11-24 09:06 pm (UTC)No worries, I'll cover. I've discovered a few gems since yesterday :)
no subject
on 2007-11-26 04:26 am (UTC)This is great, and it's turned into pre-slash Spander already, wonderful! Don't need to tell you I love the direction it's going. :)
Hope your wrist improves soon.
no subject
on 2007-11-26 03:09 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2007-11-27 01:58 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-09-25 04:39 am (UTC)Wasn’t the first dark-eyed boy he’d seen, but none of the others had smelled so…enticing. The boy was a bloody cocktail of fear and rage and lust and…Spike paused, trying to figure it out. Love, he finally decided. The boy smelt like love. Yes! And let the Spander start. Happy, happy, joy, joy.