Improvising Atonement: Book II (18/?)
Aug. 22nd, 2008 09:09 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunCharacters: Ensemble
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Spike fights himself and his family in his struggle to atone. But can he save what he values most?
A/N: Beta'ed as ever by the lovely![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noandwhere. Con/crit welcomed (and jolly well solicited) on my characterization. It's been ages since I've written Angelus. A side note for the persnickety-yes, I know this actually takes place before "The Mummy" was released. But it's a nice line so let's just pretend, mkay?
Previous chapters can be found in my memories or hanging about in the tags.
“I wish,” Buffy said over her shoulder. “Brendan Fraser would rescue me from mummies.”
Spike watched with a sick sense of glee as one by one, her friends’ jaws dropped. The Watcher and Red, sheltered under the remnants of a few collapsed bookcases, struggled to free themselves. Judging by the looks on their faces, he wasn’t entirely sure they had the best of intentions.
“Mummies,” Xander repeated with a chuckle. “Yep, that’s what we’re missing here. Really old and powerful vampire plus whatever that tentacle thingy was and oh yeah, the Hellmouth almost opened! How could we not welcome a few mummies to the party?”
“Well,” said Buffy, squirming under the heat of Xander’s glare. “It doesn’t have to be specifically mummies. And there doesn’t need to be an actual rescue. I’d be happy with the heroic aftermath part.”
“Got that bit already,” Spike put in, forestalling Xander’s next rant. “Defeated The Master and his, uh, tentacle thing, yeah?”
He got to his feet, reaching out a hand to help Wei Jin to her feet. She took it, rising shakily. A quick glance confirmed she was essentially unhurt, despite being unsteady on her pins.
As he turned to help the others over the unstable piles of rubble, he glanced out the window. His hand froze and he stared, refusing to blink. He knew those eyes, that steely hateful gaze. It burned through him, and he struggled against his own urges for family, for the beauty of the whip and the thrill of the hunt.
“Will,” a soft voice called and he turned automatically.
Willow stood on one foot, leaning awkwardly against Giles. She smiled apologetically at him, her fingers wiggling a hairsbreadth away. He nodded curtly, stretching out until he had a firm grasp on her.
He swung her over the obstacles, not bothering to look out the window. They…he’d be gone by now. No point hanging around once you’ve spooked the horses. Spike had gone on enough of these seek and destroy missions to know the pattern. He imagined he’d find a doll’s head or some such on his doorstep. Angelus never liked deviating from his pattern. Destroyed his “art”.
Spike felt the demon rise, the combination of spilt blood and memories too much for him.
“Not that it hasn’t been lovely,” he said, more harshly than he meant, “and ta ever so for inviting me to the marshmallow roast, but I think I’ll shove off.”
“Really?” Xander said, and Spike winced at the disappointment in his voice.
“Sorry, luv,” he replied, softer this time. “Just need a bit of time to clear my head is all. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the ruined library. Even before he’d left, he could feel his true face pushing forward and the rich scents nearly overwhelmed him.
The pop and fizzle of the Slayer’s blood mixed with the spicy scent that was Jin; he could smell her Slayer bloodline, the hint of power calling to him. He broke into a run, desperate to put as much distance between him and the few humans who’d accepted him, cared about him, as possible.
*~*~*
He ran for miles, bouncing in and out of Sunnydale’s alleys and leaping across the buildings. It took hours for him to work off the bloodlust, the simmering boil of desire and need in his belly that he could control but never quench. By the time he limped back to his flat, it was nearly sunrise.
He slid his key into the lock, his exhaustion making even that a chore. Just as he opened the door, he felt a strange fizzle glide across his shoulders and down his spine. He didn’t turn around; cocking his head to one side, he stood motionless. Waiting. Listening.
He could hear her, the tuneless crooning so familiar he sometimes heard it in his sleep. The soft hum had whelped him, dragged him from his grave to stand proudly at her side. It called to him, to the banked fires inside him.
“Hello, little lamb,” she whispered.
“Dru,” he acknowledged, staring hungrily at her.
She looked at him, her face solemn in the chiaroscuro of flickering streetlights. He could remember everything about her; what she looked like writhing in pain, the scent of her sex and the taste of her skin. He could still feel the burn of her nails scraping his face as she cast him out.
“Come for the show?” he asked casually, folding his arms to keep them from reaching for her. “Sorry, luv. ‘M afraid you missed the last performance.”
“Naughty Spike,” she chided him. “I came to dance in the flames and you’ve stolen them from me. I saw them, hungry and impatient children anxious for the feast.”
“Sorry,” he said again. “I got bored. You know The Master, always Apocalypse this and prophecy that. Wanker.”
“Ssh,” she scolded him. “You needn’t pretend. None of your grand tales can hide the truth from me. I see what you want, what you need. No little boy can absolve you of your sin, my lamb.”
“Ah but Dru! He’s got a soul now. He’s too grand for the likes of us.” The mocking voice drifted out from the shadows and Spike watched, impassive, as a thick hand snaked around Drusilla’s waist.
“Angelus,” Spike said quietly.
“Saw you playing with the Slayer,” Angelus replied, voice turning hard. “You keep dangerous company, lad. Be a pity if anything…happened to them.”
Spike balled his hands into fists. Angelus had goaded him for nearly two decades and Spike refused to rise to such obvious bait.
“Of course,” Angelus continued, hands wandering over Dru’s satiny dress. “Might be more fun to get to know her instead. I bet she’d love me. I’ve always wanted to love someone to death.”
Spike shrugged, suddenly wearier than he’d ever been. Angelus was a force in his own right. He’d do what he pleased and trading banter seemed pointless.
“Take your best crack, mate,” Spike responded. “Imagine she’d get a right kick out of you. Or give you a right good kick, at any rate.”
He turned around, pushing open his door.
“Mummy’s come to put things right, sweet William.” He heard Drusilla whisper. “We’ll be a family again.”
“Again?” he scoffed, refusing to look back. “Weren’t a family to begin with, were we?”
The door clicked behind him, cutting off whatever they might have said in response. Spike sagged against the door. Despite his snappy words, they had been his family. Dru had made him and Angelus had molded him. Even now, with a hundred years and a soul between them, they were still his family.
Chapter 19
Rating: NC-17 overall
Summary: Spike fights himself and his family in his struggle to atone. But can he save what he values most?
A/N: Beta'ed as ever by the lovely
noandwhere. Con/crit welcomed (and jolly well solicited) on my characterization. It's been ages since I've written Angelus. A side note for the persnickety-yes, I know this actually takes place before "The Mummy" was released. But it's a nice line so let's just pretend, mkay?Previous chapters can be found in my memories or hanging about in the tags.
“I wish,” Buffy said over her shoulder. “Brendan Fraser would rescue me from mummies.”
Spike watched with a sick sense of glee as one by one, her friends’ jaws dropped. The Watcher and Red, sheltered under the remnants of a few collapsed bookcases, struggled to free themselves. Judging by the looks on their faces, he wasn’t entirely sure they had the best of intentions.
“Mummies,” Xander repeated with a chuckle. “Yep, that’s what we’re missing here. Really old and powerful vampire plus whatever that tentacle thingy was and oh yeah, the Hellmouth almost opened! How could we not welcome a few mummies to the party?”
“Well,” said Buffy, squirming under the heat of Xander’s glare. “It doesn’t have to be specifically mummies. And there doesn’t need to be an actual rescue. I’d be happy with the heroic aftermath part.”
“Got that bit already,” Spike put in, forestalling Xander’s next rant. “Defeated The Master and his, uh, tentacle thing, yeah?”
He got to his feet, reaching out a hand to help Wei Jin to her feet. She took it, rising shakily. A quick glance confirmed she was essentially unhurt, despite being unsteady on her pins.
As he turned to help the others over the unstable piles of rubble, he glanced out the window. His hand froze and he stared, refusing to blink. He knew those eyes, that steely hateful gaze. It burned through him, and he struggled against his own urges for family, for the beauty of the whip and the thrill of the hunt.
“Will,” a soft voice called and he turned automatically.
Willow stood on one foot, leaning awkwardly against Giles. She smiled apologetically at him, her fingers wiggling a hairsbreadth away. He nodded curtly, stretching out until he had a firm grasp on her.
He swung her over the obstacles, not bothering to look out the window. They…he’d be gone by now. No point hanging around once you’ve spooked the horses. Spike had gone on enough of these seek and destroy missions to know the pattern. He imagined he’d find a doll’s head or some such on his doorstep. Angelus never liked deviating from his pattern. Destroyed his “art”.
Spike felt the demon rise, the combination of spilt blood and memories too much for him.
“Not that it hasn’t been lovely,” he said, more harshly than he meant, “and ta ever so for inviting me to the marshmallow roast, but I think I’ll shove off.”
“Really?” Xander said, and Spike winced at the disappointment in his voice.
“Sorry, luv,” he replied, softer this time. “Just need a bit of time to clear my head is all. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
He didn’t wait for an answer. Turning on his heel, he stalked out of the ruined library. Even before he’d left, he could feel his true face pushing forward and the rich scents nearly overwhelmed him.
The pop and fizzle of the Slayer’s blood mixed with the spicy scent that was Jin; he could smell her Slayer bloodline, the hint of power calling to him. He broke into a run, desperate to put as much distance between him and the few humans who’d accepted him, cared about him, as possible.
*~*~*
He ran for miles, bouncing in and out of Sunnydale’s alleys and leaping across the buildings. It took hours for him to work off the bloodlust, the simmering boil of desire and need in his belly that he could control but never quench. By the time he limped back to his flat, it was nearly sunrise.
He slid his key into the lock, his exhaustion making even that a chore. Just as he opened the door, he felt a strange fizzle glide across his shoulders and down his spine. He didn’t turn around; cocking his head to one side, he stood motionless. Waiting. Listening.
He could hear her, the tuneless crooning so familiar he sometimes heard it in his sleep. The soft hum had whelped him, dragged him from his grave to stand proudly at her side. It called to him, to the banked fires inside him.
“Hello, little lamb,” she whispered.
“Dru,” he acknowledged, staring hungrily at her.
She looked at him, her face solemn in the chiaroscuro of flickering streetlights. He could remember everything about her; what she looked like writhing in pain, the scent of her sex and the taste of her skin. He could still feel the burn of her nails scraping his face as she cast him out.
“Come for the show?” he asked casually, folding his arms to keep them from reaching for her. “Sorry, luv. ‘M afraid you missed the last performance.”
“Naughty Spike,” she chided him. “I came to dance in the flames and you’ve stolen them from me. I saw them, hungry and impatient children anxious for the feast.”
“Sorry,” he said again. “I got bored. You know The Master, always Apocalypse this and prophecy that. Wanker.”
“Ssh,” she scolded him. “You needn’t pretend. None of your grand tales can hide the truth from me. I see what you want, what you need. No little boy can absolve you of your sin, my lamb.”
“Ah but Dru! He’s got a soul now. He’s too grand for the likes of us.” The mocking voice drifted out from the shadows and Spike watched, impassive, as a thick hand snaked around Drusilla’s waist.
“Angelus,” Spike said quietly.
“Saw you playing with the Slayer,” Angelus replied, voice turning hard. “You keep dangerous company, lad. Be a pity if anything…happened to them.”
Spike balled his hands into fists. Angelus had goaded him for nearly two decades and Spike refused to rise to such obvious bait.
“Of course,” Angelus continued, hands wandering over Dru’s satiny dress. “Might be more fun to get to know her instead. I bet she’d love me. I’ve always wanted to love someone to death.”
Spike shrugged, suddenly wearier than he’d ever been. Angelus was a force in his own right. He’d do what he pleased and trading banter seemed pointless.
“Take your best crack, mate,” Spike responded. “Imagine she’d get a right kick out of you. Or give you a right good kick, at any rate.”
He turned around, pushing open his door.
“Mummy’s come to put things right, sweet William.” He heard Drusilla whisper. “We’ll be a family again.”
“Again?” he scoffed, refusing to look back. “Weren’t a family to begin with, were we?”
The door clicked behind him, cutting off whatever they might have said in response. Spike sagged against the door. Despite his snappy words, they had been his family. Dru had made him and Angelus had molded him. Even now, with a hundred years and a soul between them, they were still his family.
Chapter 19
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2008-08-23 02:07 am (UTC)Ha! I didn't catch that at all. *facepalm*
no subject
on 2008-08-23 02:26 am (UTC)*hugs*
no subject
on 2008-08-23 02:28 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-08-23 05:17 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-09-01 03:22 am (UTC)Yes, this will definitely be a trial for Spike and it will only get worse.
no subject
on 2008-08-26 05:49 pm (UTC)Angelus is all coiled menace in this, even though his mocking here sounds almost friendly: He’s got a soul now. He’s too grand for the likes of us Immediately he's threatening to seduce and kill the slayer. Creepy cubed.
Spike's in for a world of hurt. I just hope he announces the arrival of these two. Buffy and the gang need all the help they can get.
no subject
on 2008-09-01 03:24 am (UTC)