Improvising Atonement, 9/?
Feb. 16th, 2008 01:56 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunCharacters: Spike, Giles
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: A vampire with a soul comes to Sunnydale to help The Slayer. Can a demon ever atone?
A/N: I'm ba-ack! Sorry this took three weeks to make it here. Mad props (and I think I just dated myself) to my beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noandwhere who will totally someday be mentioned in a speech I give accepting my Key to The Entire World. Also, a favor? If I could get some con/crit on my Giles. I don't write him often and I'm thinking I've veered away from S1 Giles.
Previous Chapters
“So,” Spike said coolly, strolling into the library. “Watcher. How bloody brilliant of you to phone! How’s life? Everything tip top on your end? Glad to hear it. Me? Jolly well marvelous, thanks ever so. What’s that? Young Xander’s been possessed by a bloody animal spirit? On his way here, is he? Get right on that, shall I?”
Spike leaned against the broad counter, eyes icy. He clasped his hands behind him, physically restraining himself. The walk over hadn’t cooled his temper. In fact, every step seemed to magnify his rage, focusing it squarely on Rupert Giles.
“William,” Giles said, voice equally cool. “I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t listening. What about Xander?”
Spike’s jaw twitched, the muscles dancing in staccato rhythm. This is what he couldn’t explain to this pompous blowhard, could barely bring himself to share with Jinn. His control hung by slender threads, shredded by the pulse of the Hellmouth, by the presence of his own kin. He could sense one of his own nearby, the demon inside him called forward by the scent of family. For a brief second, Spike could see the Watcher’s bloodied throat, almost tasting the spice of his fear. He shook his head, forcing the image of rent flesh to the back of his mind.
“He came to me,” Spike spat, feeling the acid in his words as a taste in his mouth. “It’d be more accurate to say he came after me. Wanted a bit of the old rough and tumble, decided to give me a ride.”
“Really?” Giles asked him, removing his glasses and staring at Spike. “I can’t say as I’ve ever imagined…though on the other hand, he does have a certain…”
“Yeah,” Spike interrupted. “Him and every other public school lad since the dawn of bloody time. Point is, Watcher, you didn’t bother to warn me.”
Giles frowned at him, but answered civilly. “I didn’t warn you because I didn’t consider it necessary. Obviously, I was mistaken.”
Spike threw his hand into the air, letting out a very human roar of frustration. A bloke responsible for a Slayer and her chums, living on the mouth of hell itself and he acted as if he was taking some tots on an outing to the sweet shop. Not bloody necessary?
“I do my best,” Giles said softly, the words unnaturally precise and stiff. Spike winced, realizing he been talking to himself again. “I’m leading children into certain death. Do you imagine that I am somehow unaware of that fact? There is no happily ever after for a Watcher, William; something of which you have personal knowledge.”
Spike nodded once, a slow somber agreement. Sunnydale was Rupert Giles’ Waterloo. He’d meet defeat here, one way or the other, no way to deny that.
“He knows,” Spike said, putting the words out there. They hung between the two men, collapsing the fragile silence with their weight. “He could smell it. Whatever he was, whatever demon possessed him, it knew I was…dead.”
“Ah,” Giles replied lightly. “I imagine that your…secret is still safe. You were not the only recipient of Xander’s rather…volatile affections. He is, at the moment, claiming total memory loss of the events during his possession.”
“Is he now?” Spike’s lip curled. “Might just pay him a visit, see if I can jog his memory. Didn’t peg him for a coward.”
“I don’t believe he is,” Giles rebutted swiftly. “Merely a confused teenager caught up in extraordinary circumstances. I suppose if I were him, I might try to hang on to what was left of my innocence as well.”
“No place for innocence here,” Spike murmured, as he stared out at familiar amber eyes. “Evil remains and so long as it lurks in the secret places of the heart, utopia is only the shadow of a dream.”
Darla’s eyes caught him, held him fast for a moment. He could feel the stretch and swell inside him, a demon’s yearning for the simplicity of family, feeding and fucking. She smiled at him through the foggy tempered glass, face radiant with malicious glee.
“Hawthorne,” Giles finally responded. “Rather poetic, in a grim sort of…” He trailed off, gazing in bewilderment around the empty room.
Chapter 10
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: A vampire with a soul comes to Sunnydale to help The Slayer. Can a demon ever atone?
A/N: I'm ba-ack! Sorry this took three weeks to make it here. Mad props (and I think I just dated myself) to my beta,
noandwhere who will totally someday be mentioned in a speech I give accepting my Key to The Entire World. Also, a favor? If I could get some con/crit on my Giles. I don't write him often and I'm thinking I've veered away from S1 Giles.Previous Chapters
“So,” Spike said coolly, strolling into the library. “Watcher. How bloody brilliant of you to phone! How’s life? Everything tip top on your end? Glad to hear it. Me? Jolly well marvelous, thanks ever so. What’s that? Young Xander’s been possessed by a bloody animal spirit? On his way here, is he? Get right on that, shall I?”
Spike leaned against the broad counter, eyes icy. He clasped his hands behind him, physically restraining himself. The walk over hadn’t cooled his temper. In fact, every step seemed to magnify his rage, focusing it squarely on Rupert Giles.
“William,” Giles said, voice equally cool. “I’m terribly sorry. I wasn’t listening. What about Xander?”
Spike’s jaw twitched, the muscles dancing in staccato rhythm. This is what he couldn’t explain to this pompous blowhard, could barely bring himself to share with Jinn. His control hung by slender threads, shredded by the pulse of the Hellmouth, by the presence of his own kin. He could sense one of his own nearby, the demon inside him called forward by the scent of family. For a brief second, Spike could see the Watcher’s bloodied throat, almost tasting the spice of his fear. He shook his head, forcing the image of rent flesh to the back of his mind.
“He came to me,” Spike spat, feeling the acid in his words as a taste in his mouth. “It’d be more accurate to say he came after me. Wanted a bit of the old rough and tumble, decided to give me a ride.”
“Really?” Giles asked him, removing his glasses and staring at Spike. “I can’t say as I’ve ever imagined…though on the other hand, he does have a certain…”
“Yeah,” Spike interrupted. “Him and every other public school lad since the dawn of bloody time. Point is, Watcher, you didn’t bother to warn me.”
Giles frowned at him, but answered civilly. “I didn’t warn you because I didn’t consider it necessary. Obviously, I was mistaken.”
Spike threw his hand into the air, letting out a very human roar of frustration. A bloke responsible for a Slayer and her chums, living on the mouth of hell itself and he acted as if he was taking some tots on an outing to the sweet shop. Not bloody necessary?
“I do my best,” Giles said softly, the words unnaturally precise and stiff. Spike winced, realizing he been talking to himself again. “I’m leading children into certain death. Do you imagine that I am somehow unaware of that fact? There is no happily ever after for a Watcher, William; something of which you have personal knowledge.”
Spike nodded once, a slow somber agreement. Sunnydale was Rupert Giles’ Waterloo. He’d meet defeat here, one way or the other, no way to deny that.
“He knows,” Spike said, putting the words out there. They hung between the two men, collapsing the fragile silence with their weight. “He could smell it. Whatever he was, whatever demon possessed him, it knew I was…dead.”
“Ah,” Giles replied lightly. “I imagine that your…secret is still safe. You were not the only recipient of Xander’s rather…volatile affections. He is, at the moment, claiming total memory loss of the events during his possession.”
“Is he now?” Spike’s lip curled. “Might just pay him a visit, see if I can jog his memory. Didn’t peg him for a coward.”
“I don’t believe he is,” Giles rebutted swiftly. “Merely a confused teenager caught up in extraordinary circumstances. I suppose if I were him, I might try to hang on to what was left of my innocence as well.”
“No place for innocence here,” Spike murmured, as he stared out at familiar amber eyes. “Evil remains and so long as it lurks in the secret places of the heart, utopia is only the shadow of a dream.”
Darla’s eyes caught him, held him fast for a moment. He could feel the stretch and swell inside him, a demon’s yearning for the simplicity of family, feeding and fucking. She smiled at him through the foggy tempered glass, face radiant with malicious glee.
“Hawthorne,” Giles finally responded. “Rather poetic, in a grim sort of…” He trailed off, gazing in bewilderment around the empty room.
Chapter 10