Ashes to Ashes (14/30)
Jun. 12th, 2008 10:43 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunPairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grief and a kind of madness take Spike and Xander places they aren't sure they want to go....
A/N: Written for![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
psych_30 prompt #24-Skinner Box and tamingthemuse prompt #99-clamp. The prompt use is interpretive, as a Skinner Box is technically the type of cage designed by B.F. Skinner for use in his experiments on operant conditioning. Since operant conditioning is a type of behavior modification, I've used it in that sense rather than focus on the box itself.
Previous Parts here or in the tags.
The pain blossomed out from his nose, followed shortly by a low, pained howl. As he looked for something to staunch the blood, Xander realized the scream wasn’t his. He turned, eyes scanning the dim room. Minutes later, he spotted Spike, crumpled and still on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Sorry,” Spike said hoarsely. “Dream.”
Xander nodded. Pointless to nod because Spike’s eyes were closed but his nose hurt too bad to try and talk. So he nodded and hoped Spike could figure it out.
“Bloody cage,” Spike whispered, and the words were forlorn.
Cages. Xander knew a lot about cages. Sometimes his whole life felt like an exhibit at the zoo. For the first time in captivity, the rare Xander Harris! He smiled and did tricks and sometimes he even enjoyed his keepers. But mostly he just wanted a life in the wild. A life that didn’t involve worrying about a girlfriend, or a Hellmouth, or the depression of a mystical teen-age girl. His own life. It was a novel idea.
It was also a fantasy. Even if he could get further than Oxnard, he wasn’t up to testing the bars of this particular cage. Not now that Buffy was…gone.
He knelt down, bloodstained fingers tracing random patterns on Spike’s pale skin. His cages kept him here. Spike’s cages kept him alive.
He wasn’t stupid and Faith had choked most of his innocence away. He knew why Spike came to him, why Spike touched him, hands fitting over his skin so well it was like magic. Spike’s hands were the best kind of magic; pure pleasure in hand form. But those touches weren’t given out of love or even genuine desire for him.
He was safe. Xander Harris didn’t offer much of a threat to a chipped vampire. Particularly not a chipped vampire they depended on to keep the demon population in check. Especially not a chipped vampire who, besides keeping the demon population in check, was his lover.
Spike. His lover.
In addition to safe, he was also apparently easy. His three lovers were proof that he’d fall for any reasonable sounding line, falling into bed at the drop of a…He shook his head. It took more than a dropped hat to get him worked up. Dropped pants. Dropped dress. There had to be significant nakedness for him to give it up. Sadly, that’s all there had to be. Nakedness. Flesh on flesh.
Spike’s flesh reddened under the pinch of his questing fingers, the pale pink nipple darkening as he tugged and rolled it between his fingers.
A hand snaked up his arm, clamping firmly around his bicep. Xander smiled gingerly. Spike’s cage kept him safe, but he didn’t want to be too safe. Too safe was near enough to dead and he’d had enough of feeling dead.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
A short, shallow dip of the head was his answer. Xander grunted as those slender fingers dug into his skin. Spike pulled himself to stand braced against Xander, obviously weary.
“Fucking chip,” Spike said quietly. “Won’t even let me fight back the monsters in my head.”
That intent to hurt even imaginary humans was enough, more than enough it looked like, to set up a chain reaction in Spike’s brain. Behavior modification at its finest. Step outside the lines and get zapped.
“Everyone has a chip,” Xander told him softly. “There’s always something waiting to smack you down if you don’t play by the rules.”
Spike glared at him, eyes gone cold. Xander backed away. Even knowing that Spike couldn’t kill him wasn’t reassuring.. Spike had plenty of weapons besides his fangs.
“Don’t care about everyone,” Spike spat. “What the bloody fuck does it matter if you lot play by some stupid morality code? Not like you do-gooders, am I?”
Xander reached out, finger resting between Spike’s cold blue eyes. The chip was somewhere in there, waiting to shock Spike back into line. A tiny little cage designed to chain a vicious beast for the good of the public.
“We’re all totally fucked,” Xander finally replied. “Why should you be any different?”
Chapter 15
Rating: NC-17
Summary: Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. Grief and a kind of madness take Spike and Xander places they aren't sure they want to go....
A/N: Written for
psych_30 prompt #24-Skinner Box and tamingthemuse prompt #99-clamp. The prompt use is interpretive, as a Skinner Box is technically the type of cage designed by B.F. Skinner for use in his experiments on operant conditioning. Since operant conditioning is a type of behavior modification, I've used it in that sense rather than focus on the box itself.Previous Parts here or in the tags.
The pain blossomed out from his nose, followed shortly by a low, pained howl. As he looked for something to staunch the blood, Xander realized the scream wasn’t his. He turned, eyes scanning the dim room. Minutes later, he spotted Spike, crumpled and still on the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Sorry,” Spike said hoarsely. “Dream.”
Xander nodded. Pointless to nod because Spike’s eyes were closed but his nose hurt too bad to try and talk. So he nodded and hoped Spike could figure it out.
“Bloody cage,” Spike whispered, and the words were forlorn.
Cages. Xander knew a lot about cages. Sometimes his whole life felt like an exhibit at the zoo. For the first time in captivity, the rare Xander Harris! He smiled and did tricks and sometimes he even enjoyed his keepers. But mostly he just wanted a life in the wild. A life that didn’t involve worrying about a girlfriend, or a Hellmouth, or the depression of a mystical teen-age girl. His own life. It was a novel idea.
It was also a fantasy. Even if he could get further than Oxnard, he wasn’t up to testing the bars of this particular cage. Not now that Buffy was…gone.
He knelt down, bloodstained fingers tracing random patterns on Spike’s pale skin. His cages kept him here. Spike’s cages kept him alive.
He wasn’t stupid and Faith had choked most of his innocence away. He knew why Spike came to him, why Spike touched him, hands fitting over his skin so well it was like magic. Spike’s hands were the best kind of magic; pure pleasure in hand form. But those touches weren’t given out of love or even genuine desire for him.
He was safe. Xander Harris didn’t offer much of a threat to a chipped vampire. Particularly not a chipped vampire they depended on to keep the demon population in check. Especially not a chipped vampire who, besides keeping the demon population in check, was his lover.
Spike. His lover.
In addition to safe, he was also apparently easy. His three lovers were proof that he’d fall for any reasonable sounding line, falling into bed at the drop of a…He shook his head. It took more than a dropped hat to get him worked up. Dropped pants. Dropped dress. There had to be significant nakedness for him to give it up. Sadly, that’s all there had to be. Nakedness. Flesh on flesh.
Spike’s flesh reddened under the pinch of his questing fingers, the pale pink nipple darkening as he tugged and rolled it between his fingers.
A hand snaked up his arm, clamping firmly around his bicep. Xander smiled gingerly. Spike’s cage kept him safe, but he didn’t want to be too safe. Too safe was near enough to dead and he’d had enough of feeling dead.
“Feeling better?” he asked.
A short, shallow dip of the head was his answer. Xander grunted as those slender fingers dug into his skin. Spike pulled himself to stand braced against Xander, obviously weary.
“Fucking chip,” Spike said quietly. “Won’t even let me fight back the monsters in my head.”
That intent to hurt even imaginary humans was enough, more than enough it looked like, to set up a chain reaction in Spike’s brain. Behavior modification at its finest. Step outside the lines and get zapped.
“Everyone has a chip,” Xander told him softly. “There’s always something waiting to smack you down if you don’t play by the rules.”
Spike glared at him, eyes gone cold. Xander backed away. Even knowing that Spike couldn’t kill him wasn’t reassuring.. Spike had plenty of weapons besides his fangs.
“Don’t care about everyone,” Spike spat. “What the bloody fuck does it matter if you lot play by some stupid morality code? Not like you do-gooders, am I?”
Xander reached out, finger resting between Spike’s cold blue eyes. The chip was somewhere in there, waiting to shock Spike back into line. A tiny little cage designed to chain a vicious beast for the good of the public.
“We’re all totally fucked,” Xander finally replied. “Why should you be any different?”
Chapter 15
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no subject
on 2008-06-13 03:48 am (UTC)*Mwah*
no subject
on 2008-06-13 08:23 am (UTC)I loved the introspection about cages. It's so very right. Everyone is trapped inside their own cages.
Love how you decided to angle the topic.
no subject
on 2008-06-13 10:06 am (UTC)So very true. We might think that we're free to do as we like but life is always waiting around the corner to kick our ass.
Still loving this. (the fic, not the ass kicking)
no subject
on 2008-06-13 02:48 pm (UTC)The boys are so very raw - it's heartbreaking and quite beautiful to watch at the same time.
Lovely chapter, honey.
no subject
on 2008-06-14 03:22 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-06-14 03:25 am (UTC)/psych major tl;dr
I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter and thanks so much for your lovely words of praise. Always, always appreciated!
no subject
on 2008-06-14 03:27 am (UTC)no subject
on 2008-06-14 03:29 am (UTC)I'm glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
on 2008-06-14 05:24 am (UTC)It has to be hard for Spike, most of us are so used to our cages we have stopped seeing the bars, for us it's just 'that's how it is'
Spike has had 125 years outside the cage, and now he's in a cage with electrified bars. It's got to be making him crazy.
*pets poor Spike*
no subject
on 2008-09-23 04:31 pm (UTC)Poor bugger - not even able to dream about hurting humans!
That would make the behavior modification damned effective. Go Initiative. They bring good things to life. Or something.
no subject
on 2009-06-22 04:53 am (UTC)I can so related to Spike and Xander's feelings about cages. I feel like I've been pulled into this life that I just can't stand anymore and I don't know how to get out. Except writing is my way out. My guide. It's all sort of vague and odd sounding but writing is guiding me to become who I am becoming (could I be any more vague?) and that person will be able to see her way out of the trap. Will be interesting to see how it works out and, at least at the moment, I'm more on the "how great is the adventure" side of interesting and less on the "chinese curse".
Wow, I'm rambling. What I don't get is the people at work who hate the job and know what they'd rather be doing but aren't working towards that. I have no idea where I'm going and I'm still doing my best to work towards it. They know what they'd rather have and say stuff like, "Maybe after I retire," which, as far as I can tell, means never. Aargh! I don't get them.
And since you mention grief in the comments, I'm sure grief over my mother's death, almost two years ago now, is the catalyst for me seeing the bars of my cage more clearly. Ha. "Yes, we're all different," shouts the crowd. "I'm not," one lone voice says.
no subject
on 2009-06-22 02:18 pm (UTC)I'm glad you enjoy the story and yes, I agree. Grief can throw your whole life into stark relief, even as it casts shadows over you.