Improvising Atonement, 20/?
Aug. 1st, 2009 07:23 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Ensemble (Spike, Xander, Angelus)
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: So, once upon a time, I wrote this story. It was a re-do of Buffy but with Spike instead of Angel as the souled vampire. Maybe some of you guys remember it from back in the day? I'm sorry for the enormously, embarrassingly long wait between chapters. Hopefully, now that I've wrestled the story back on track, it will continue to chug along to its conclusion. Thanks so much to my beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
anxiety_junkie who fought the good fight against her RL in order to polish this chapter into something resembling a good read.
Previous chapters can be found in my memories or maxing and relaxing in the tags.
“So,” Spike asked, leaning lazily against the window. “Wanna tell me how your date went? Heard from the Slayer it kinda sucked.”
Xander peered up at him balefully. “We’re not talking about it,” he said tiredly, resting his head against the sill. “And you actually lose points for making a “suck” joke there. Besides, this is all Buffy’s fault anyways.”
“And just how, “ Spike asked, “is it the Slayer’s fault you went and got all down and dirty with a mummy?”
Xander lifted his head to stare at Spike in disbelief. “Right, one? There was no down and it certainly didn’t get dirty. It was a kiss. A very brief, slightly deadly kiss. Two? Buffy asked for mummies. This was her fault.”
“Right,” Spike nodded. “So, you got any more dates lined up?”
“No.” Xander shook his head. “I’m officially dateless. Unlike Buffy, whose fault this was, I might add.”
Spike chuckled, fingers straying towards the window. He brushed against the mystical energy that separated them, feeling it spark and snap under his fingers. Despite the barrier, he could smell Xander’s musky sweat and shampoo, feel his almost radiant warmth.
“Well,” he said abruptly, looking away “I’m off. Demons to kill, Slayers to help. You know how it goes.”
“Hey, Will?’ Xander said, voice suddenly unsteady. “Think maybe next time you drop by, you’d like to actually come in? You know, or not. Up to you, just a suggestion.”
Spike looked back, cursing under his breath. He pushed his hand towards the window again, reassured when the barrier brought him up short. Their last kiss had shown him how dangerously unstable his control was where Xander was concerned.
“Don’t invite me in,” he said softly. “Too many ways that could end badly.”
Xander’s expression shuttered, the animation in his eyes going flat. He turned his body slightly, presenting Spike with an almost literal cold shoulder. Spike hissed, a frustrated exhalation that was half curse, half sigh.
“Luv,” he said, frustration leaking into his words, “ ‘M just thinking of what’s best, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Xander shot back. “Why are you the one who gets to decide what’s best for me? Or is it not even about me?”
Xander’s shot was blind, but it hit the mark. Spike knew his reluctance had nothing to do with Xander and everything to do with him. He just didn’t know how to explain it to the young man in front of him.
“ ‘S not about you,” Spike said brusquely, ignoring the hurt that flashed across Xander’s face. “It’s about me. It’s about what I am.”
He pushed his demonic face forward, hearing and feeling the snap and pop of his bones rearranging. He sneered, his fangs grazing his lower lip.
“See?” Spike said. “Not you, mate. Me. This is what I am. Not quite so pretty like this, yeah? Not so eager to have me in for biscuits and cuddles.”
He rocked back, fighting his own rising anger. Part of him wanted Xander to stay away, to find him repulsive in this demonic face. But another part, selfish and greedy, wanted Xander to invite him in and damn the costs, wanted to hear sweet moans and eager, breathless sighs.
“Bugger,” he ground out, shifting back into human features. “You think I don’t want you? You think being close to you doesn’t affect me? You’re barking, Xander.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He wasn’t sure what Xander would say, couldn’t bear to look and see his reaction. Spike knew that seeing either excitement or repugnance on Xander’s face would break him. He turned, striding towards the lip of the roof. As he dropped to the ground, the soft thud of the shutting window followed him.
“Bugger,” he repeated, rising to stare up at the now vacant window. “Bloody buggering fuck.”
“Ah, the troubles of young love.” The softly spoken words were both tender and mocking, the voice familiar. “Does this mean he won’t go to the school dance with you?”
“Fuck off, Angelus, “Spike replied, not turning to face the vampire behind him. Hoping his words sounded casual enough, bored enough, to prevent sparking Angelus’ finely honed instincts. “ ‘S not like that.”
“Liar.” The words were a whisper, heard so keenly because Angelus was hovering a hairsbreadth from his body.
The scent, the underlying accent Angelus can’t ever erase, the all- encompassing nearness of family sent his body ricocheting between fear and arousal. It had been decades and Angelus was right bloody there. Spike turned his head a fraction, and his face pressed into the outstretched palm waiting there.
“That’s my boy,” Angelus said and his voice almost sounded affectionate. Spike knew better. Angelus hasn’t experienced a real emotion in centuries. But the counterfeit he produced seemed so genuine it damn near fooled everyone. Spike sometimes thought Angelus even fooled himself occasionally.
“Not your boy,” Spike replied, pulling away from sweet comfort of Angelus’ bloody great hand. “Isn’t it time you were shoving off? ‘M sure you have some poor sod to terrorize with a charcoal sketch or whatnot.”
“My boy,” Angelus repeated. The words were rougher, the tone harder. Spike’s eyes widened fractionally, knowing he’d made a mistake. Even as he spun to evade the oncoming blow, it was too late.
The heavy fist glanced across his jaw, throwing him off balance. Spike felt himself begin to fall. He twisted, throwing a hand out to dig deeply into Angelus’ leather coat. It was almost a success. Rather than stopping his fall, all he managed to do was pull the older, heavier vampire down with him.
Almost a victory, he thought, and better than nothing.
The sense of triumph lasted right up until they hit the ground. But it wasn’t the pressure or even the cosh to the head that made him reconsider. It was the feel of it; the heft of Angelus pressing him down, the hands now roaming almost tentatively on either side of his body, all of it was going to drive him bloody spare.
The first touch of Angelus’ lips to his neck shocked him. He inhaled sharply, a reflexive gasp that drew a low rumbling chuckle from Angelus. Spike turned his head, leaving his neck exposed. He could feel the light pressure deepen and he stifled a moan as fangs scraped delicately against his taut skin.
The scent of his own blood slammed into him, startling him out of his state of compliant arousal. Rearing back, he butted his head squarely into Angelus’ nose. Angelus tumbled off of him with a roar of surprise and, Spike wagered, of pain. Broken noses were bloody painful, living or dead.
“You think that’s all it’ll take?” Spike sneered. “A bit of a kind word and a few kisses? I’m not Darla, you great poofter. Hardly likely to swoon at your overblown charms.”
“And,” he added carelessly, “might want to stop snacking on the shopgirls. You’re putting on a bit ‘round the middle.”
He braced for the next round, legs spread and fists loosely balled. Angelus appreciated a bit of pain with his pleasure, but it wasn’t likely he’d overlook Spike’s defiance. Lot of daft notions piled onto one pillock, Angelus, and one of those daft notions was respect for his status. But rather than a roar of rage, Angelus began to laugh.
“I knew it,” he said boastfully. “Dru said they’d ruined you, turned you into a shade but there you are, just as vicious as ever. Oh, we’ll have you back, lad, never fear.”
Angelus leapt forward, grabbing Spike’s head between his two hands. Even as Spike struggled against the rough grip, Angelus planted a possessive kiss on his forehead. Pushing backwards, Angelus grinned, wickedly triumphant.
“Soon,” he promised. “Soon, all of this humanity and grace will be nothing but a bad memory.”
Angelus pulled back, leaping into the shadows. Spike didn't bother to give chase. Angelus would be caught only if it suited him. He turned back, staring disconsolately at Xander’s closed window. Angelus’ words weren’t mere idle threats. If he said Spike’s humanity was in danger, it was. Which meant everything he’d work to build here, including the humans he’d come to care for, were also in danger.
Chapter 21
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: So, once upon a time, I wrote this story. It was a re-do of Buffy but with Spike instead of Angel as the souled vampire. Maybe some of you guys remember it from back in the day? I'm sorry for the enormously, embarrassingly long wait between chapters. Hopefully, now that I've wrestled the story back on track, it will continue to chug along to its conclusion. Thanks so much to my beta,
anxiety_junkie who fought the good fight against her RL in order to polish this chapter into something resembling a good read. Previous chapters can be found in my memories or maxing and relaxing in the tags.
“So,” Spike asked, leaning lazily against the window. “Wanna tell me how your date went? Heard from the Slayer it kinda sucked.”
Xander peered up at him balefully. “We’re not talking about it,” he said tiredly, resting his head against the sill. “And you actually lose points for making a “suck” joke there. Besides, this is all Buffy’s fault anyways.”
“And just how, “ Spike asked, “is it the Slayer’s fault you went and got all down and dirty with a mummy?”
Xander lifted his head to stare at Spike in disbelief. “Right, one? There was no down and it certainly didn’t get dirty. It was a kiss. A very brief, slightly deadly kiss. Two? Buffy asked for mummies. This was her fault.”
“Right,” Spike nodded. “So, you got any more dates lined up?”
“No.” Xander shook his head. “I’m officially dateless. Unlike Buffy, whose fault this was, I might add.”
Spike chuckled, fingers straying towards the window. He brushed against the mystical energy that separated them, feeling it spark and snap under his fingers. Despite the barrier, he could smell Xander’s musky sweat and shampoo, feel his almost radiant warmth.
“Well,” he said abruptly, looking away “I’m off. Demons to kill, Slayers to help. You know how it goes.”
“Hey, Will?’ Xander said, voice suddenly unsteady. “Think maybe next time you drop by, you’d like to actually come in? You know, or not. Up to you, just a suggestion.”
Spike looked back, cursing under his breath. He pushed his hand towards the window again, reassured when the barrier brought him up short. Their last kiss had shown him how dangerously unstable his control was where Xander was concerned.
“Don’t invite me in,” he said softly. “Too many ways that could end badly.”
Xander’s expression shuttered, the animation in his eyes going flat. He turned his body slightly, presenting Spike with an almost literal cold shoulder. Spike hissed, a frustrated exhalation that was half curse, half sigh.
“Luv,” he said, frustration leaking into his words, “ ‘M just thinking of what’s best, yeah?”
“Yeah,” Xander shot back. “Why are you the one who gets to decide what’s best for me? Or is it not even about me?”
Xander’s shot was blind, but it hit the mark. Spike knew his reluctance had nothing to do with Xander and everything to do with him. He just didn’t know how to explain it to the young man in front of him.
“ ‘S not about you,” Spike said brusquely, ignoring the hurt that flashed across Xander’s face. “It’s about me. It’s about what I am.”
He pushed his demonic face forward, hearing and feeling the snap and pop of his bones rearranging. He sneered, his fangs grazing his lower lip.
“See?” Spike said. “Not you, mate. Me. This is what I am. Not quite so pretty like this, yeah? Not so eager to have me in for biscuits and cuddles.”
He rocked back, fighting his own rising anger. Part of him wanted Xander to stay away, to find him repulsive in this demonic face. But another part, selfish and greedy, wanted Xander to invite him in and damn the costs, wanted to hear sweet moans and eager, breathless sighs.
“Bugger,” he ground out, shifting back into human features. “You think I don’t want you? You think being close to you doesn’t affect me? You’re barking, Xander.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He wasn’t sure what Xander would say, couldn’t bear to look and see his reaction. Spike knew that seeing either excitement or repugnance on Xander’s face would break him. He turned, striding towards the lip of the roof. As he dropped to the ground, the soft thud of the shutting window followed him.
“Bugger,” he repeated, rising to stare up at the now vacant window. “Bloody buggering fuck.”
“Ah, the troubles of young love.” The softly spoken words were both tender and mocking, the voice familiar. “Does this mean he won’t go to the school dance with you?”
“Fuck off, Angelus, “Spike replied, not turning to face the vampire behind him. Hoping his words sounded casual enough, bored enough, to prevent sparking Angelus’ finely honed instincts. “ ‘S not like that.”
“Liar.” The words were a whisper, heard so keenly because Angelus was hovering a hairsbreadth from his body.
The scent, the underlying accent Angelus can’t ever erase, the all- encompassing nearness of family sent his body ricocheting between fear and arousal. It had been decades and Angelus was right bloody there. Spike turned his head a fraction, and his face pressed into the outstretched palm waiting there.
“That’s my boy,” Angelus said and his voice almost sounded affectionate. Spike knew better. Angelus hasn’t experienced a real emotion in centuries. But the counterfeit he produced seemed so genuine it damn near fooled everyone. Spike sometimes thought Angelus even fooled himself occasionally.
“Not your boy,” Spike replied, pulling away from sweet comfort of Angelus’ bloody great hand. “Isn’t it time you were shoving off? ‘M sure you have some poor sod to terrorize with a charcoal sketch or whatnot.”
“My boy,” Angelus repeated. The words were rougher, the tone harder. Spike’s eyes widened fractionally, knowing he’d made a mistake. Even as he spun to evade the oncoming blow, it was too late.
The heavy fist glanced across his jaw, throwing him off balance. Spike felt himself begin to fall. He twisted, throwing a hand out to dig deeply into Angelus’ leather coat. It was almost a success. Rather than stopping his fall, all he managed to do was pull the older, heavier vampire down with him.
Almost a victory, he thought, and better than nothing.
The sense of triumph lasted right up until they hit the ground. But it wasn’t the pressure or even the cosh to the head that made him reconsider. It was the feel of it; the heft of Angelus pressing him down, the hands now roaming almost tentatively on either side of his body, all of it was going to drive him bloody spare.
The first touch of Angelus’ lips to his neck shocked him. He inhaled sharply, a reflexive gasp that drew a low rumbling chuckle from Angelus. Spike turned his head, leaving his neck exposed. He could feel the light pressure deepen and he stifled a moan as fangs scraped delicately against his taut skin.
The scent of his own blood slammed into him, startling him out of his state of compliant arousal. Rearing back, he butted his head squarely into Angelus’ nose. Angelus tumbled off of him with a roar of surprise and, Spike wagered, of pain. Broken noses were bloody painful, living or dead.
“You think that’s all it’ll take?” Spike sneered. “A bit of a kind word and a few kisses? I’m not Darla, you great poofter. Hardly likely to swoon at your overblown charms.”
“And,” he added carelessly, “might want to stop snacking on the shopgirls. You’re putting on a bit ‘round the middle.”
He braced for the next round, legs spread and fists loosely balled. Angelus appreciated a bit of pain with his pleasure, but it wasn’t likely he’d overlook Spike’s defiance. Lot of daft notions piled onto one pillock, Angelus, and one of those daft notions was respect for his status. But rather than a roar of rage, Angelus began to laugh.
“I knew it,” he said boastfully. “Dru said they’d ruined you, turned you into a shade but there you are, just as vicious as ever. Oh, we’ll have you back, lad, never fear.”
Angelus leapt forward, grabbing Spike’s head between his two hands. Even as Spike struggled against the rough grip, Angelus planted a possessive kiss on his forehead. Pushing backwards, Angelus grinned, wickedly triumphant.
“Soon,” he promised. “Soon, all of this humanity and grace will be nothing but a bad memory.”
Angelus pulled back, leaping into the shadows. Spike didn't bother to give chase. Angelus would be caught only if it suited him. He turned back, staring disconsolately at Xander’s closed window. Angelus’ words weren’t mere idle threats. If he said Spike’s humanity was in danger, it was. Which meant everything he’d work to build here, including the humans he’d come to care for, were also in danger.
Chapter 21
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
on 2009-08-02 01:29 am (UTC)I can't wait for another update when you get the chance.
no subject
on 2009-08-06 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
on 2009-08-06 07:26 am (UTC)Love your totally evil Angelus. Is Spike's soul liable to leave him if he sleeps with Xander then? Surely it wouldn't have the same devastating effect on Spike as it had on Angel when he lost his? Spike was never the bastard Angelus was.
I want another chapter please, would begging work?
no subject
on 2009-08-06 10:25 pm (UTC)Spike's soul isn't in that kind of danger. For one, I never liked the whole sex=true happiness thing because it's a cheap gimmick (as if the curse isn't one to begin with!). Second, Spike's soul didn't come from a gypsy curse, and it isn't a form of revenge. Ergo, it will work differently. However, that doesn't mean he's off the hook!
*evil laugh*
I'm actually working on another in the vague comics series of pre-Spander stories I keep doodling with, which I'd like to say will be finished here in a week or so (but if I say that, it'll never happen so pretend I didn't mention it). And I have an idea for the next chapter of Ashes, plus a vague Ianto fic is kicking around my head. So this one will be finished, but it's competing with my insane RL and several other stories at the moment.
I'm glad you're enjoying this, though!
no subject
on 2009-08-08 01:56 am (UTC)no subject
on 2009-08-06 03:36 pm (UTC)Looking over my notes I also see you have "Modes of Silence" which hasn't been updated snce '07 and also "Ashes to Ashes" as WIPs. Do you think you'll get around to them too?
Shakatany
no subject
on 2009-08-06 10:31 pm (UTC)As for MoS, I'm afraid that will remain unfinished. When I started writing it, I had a much less firm grasp of the characters and their interations and re-reading it makes me almost squirm. I'm not pleased with the characterization and I find the plot (particularly for the period of canon it's in) to be almost wholly unbelievable now. In order to finish it, I'd have to essentially rewrite it and I'm just not up to that.
Maybe some lover of happy fluffy lovey Spander will come along and adopt the poor dear thing and give it a proper ending.
But I'm pleased you're enjoying this one, even if it is woefully and lamentably behind schedule. Thank you so much!
no subject
on 2009-08-20 05:52 pm (UTC)In all the angst and drama, this gave me an unexpected laugh: “Isn’t it time you were shoving off? ‘M sure you have some poor sod to terrorize with a charcoal sketch or whatnot.” The sudden violence morphed almost instantly into arousal. These two have so much history, and having it all play out under Xander's window added even more drama.
Spike, really, really needs to get off his ass and warn all his little humans. Angelus is playing for keeps. It's delicious.
no subject
on 2009-08-25 08:22 pm (UTC)As for Angelus, I think that Spike is right. Angelus wants to win. It's not about Spike or the Scoobies or anything but Angelus's desire to destroy. I love Angelus. :)
Glad you liked this and thank you so much for all the lovely commentary you give me. It definitely inspires me to keep writing!