New AU Spangel Story: The Guardian
May. 4th, 2007 09:35 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iceminkI'm feeling drained and apathetic. My mood just refuses to improve, although I'm about to go out with a friend so hopefully that will make me feel better. The up side to my bad mood is that it's totally killed all my nervousness about my new AU Spangle fic. So even though it's not beta'd yet I figured I'd post it here, because yes, I'm a feedback whore. Actually, it's not so much the feedback (although I love that) it's just an insane need to be read. I'll stop babling now and go have a beer. And once I have this betad I'll add a note for those of you who get annoyed by all the mistakes I tend to make.
Title: The Guardian
Pairing: Spike/Angel and flashbacks to Angel/Darla
Rating: NC-17 (please read the warnings)
Summary: All human AU. It was eight years ago that Liam promised to protect Darla and be her angel. It's a promise he's done his best to keep, even if these days she can barely stand to be around him. Then one night he finds a young prostitute, William, getting beat up in an alley. But will helping William destroy the delicate balance of Angel's life, or will it be William who saves Angel from his own dark past?
Warning: This is a dark and angsty fic, mostly concerning Angel's past with Darla. There's mention of non-con, a lot of this story is about prostitution, and there's a flashback to Angel and Darla when they are 17 that's very sexual in nature. And then of course there is some violence. I think that about covers it, but I'll add specific warnings for various chapters.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
slackerace for the beta. I made a few other changes though, so any remaining mistakes are my own.
Chapter 1:
"This is my territory kid," the man said as his fist slammed into William's jaw.
Somehow William managed to speak despite the pain and the fear. "That the best you got?"
William had this theory that if he pretended to be tough, people would leave him alone. That's why he was calling himself Spike these days, and he'd bleached his hair blond. He thought it made him look kind of punk and he didn't know how else to make himself look tough.
So far it hadn't worked. But seeing as he didn't know how to fight, his only other option was to beg and grovel. And if school yard bullies had taught William anything, it was that begging never made them go away. So it was better to pretend to be Spike than William.
His show of defiance got him a punch in the stomach and he doubled over in pain. Spike heard the sound of glass breaking and the next thing he knew his attacker had yanked Spike's head back by the hair, and was holding a broken bottle near his eye.
"Let's see who wants to fuck you now?"
Spike didn't hear the last words because he was crying out as the glass cut into the skin above his eye. Terror raced through his veins as he imagination began to fill him with images of the glass cutting his eye out.
He was so overwhelmed with terrified anticipation that he didn't notice at first when the cutting stopped.
"Hey, Angel, man," Spike's attacker was saying, "I was just uh, this kid was in my territory."
That's when Spike realized they were not alone. He blinked several times, his eye stinging from the blood that was running down into it. He tried to wipe the blood away, but that sent new fears through him. What if the cut was infected, what if he was infecting it right now? He'd jerked off a guy a little while ago. What if there was still some semen on his hands? Would he end up with AIDS?
Somehow he managed to blink enough that he could see the silhouette of a large man at the mouth of the alley.
"Is that so, Jason?" the big man asked as he moved closer. "Since when do you have territory?"
"I mean, Darla's territory," Jason stammered.
It was obvious that he was scared of this Angel fellow, and Spike couldn't decide if that was good or bad for him. He wasn't really sure he wanted to get to know someone who scared the man who'd been carving up his face with a broken bottle.
"Look, I was just trying to help you out," Jason continued. "You know, take care of this guy for you?"
Angel was standing directly in front of Jason now, looming over Spike as well. Now that he was closer, Spike was struck by how well dressed Angel was–silk shirt, perfectly tailored suit, and a long black coat. He looked like he should be in a boardroom, not in the back ally of a seedy, LA gay club.
"So you want my job, is that it Jason?" Angel asked.
"No, no man, that's not it. . . It's just- ugh!" Jason was cut off as Angel slammed his fist into Jason's stomach, and the smaller man doubled over in pain as he gasped for breath.
"So not only have you been trying to short Darla," Angel yanked Jason up by the hair so that he could punch him in the stomach again. "But you want to take my job too. Is that right?"
"No," was the only word Jason got out as Angel's fists continued to slam into his body.
Spike watched with glee as his attacker was beaten senseless. When Angel decided he'd had enough, he began to rifle through Jason's pockets.
He pulled out a thick wad of cash and shook his head. "You really are a dumb shit. All you had to do was give Darla her cut."
Jason's only response was to moan.
Then Angel looked at Spike for the first time.
Spike's first instinct after the brutality he'd just witnessed was to pull away and try and hide in the shadows. But there was something kind and concerned in those big brown eyes.
"Head wounds are a bitch, huh?" Angel said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to Spike.
Spike took it hesitantly, and pressed it against his eyebrow to try and staunch the bleeding.
"Come on," Angel said, as he put an arm around Spike and hauled him to his feet.
Spike felt dizzy, as he tried to stand, but luckily Angel was there, supporting his weight. The bigger man had to hunch over to accommodate Spike's smaller form, but they managed to stumble out of the alley.
Spike was grateful, but also nervous. He didn't rely on the kindness of strangers–in his experience, they didn't have any. Hell, is his experience people you knew weren't likely to go out of their way either.
Angel led Spike to an old black convertible, before pausing. "Fuck. Look, don't take this the wrong way but I don't want you bleeding all over my interior, okay?" Angel said as he leaned Spike against the side of the car.
Spike was a bit relieved actually. It was nice to know this guy cared more about his car than he did about some beat up kid he didn't even know. That fit in much better with Spike's notion of how the world worked. Of course, Spike didn't have much choice about where he did or didn't bleed.
Angel shrugged out of his coat. At first Spike thought that Angel was going to set that down for him to lie on. Instead, Angel just draped it over the passenger side door, as he unbuttoned the silk shirt he was wearing.
Spike was nervous again. Why was this guy helping him? Especially considering Angel had just beaten another man to a pulp.
Whatever name he had given himself, deep down William knew that he was about as street smart as a puppy. He'd let his eighteenth birthday just kind of sneak up on him. It wasn't like he hadn't made plans; he'd been accepted to UCLA and had a scholarship and everything. Unfortunately, that didn't kick in until the fall and it was only March. He had never thought that the Drakes would kick him out just because he'd turned eighteen. They'd always seemed to like him well enough, he wasn't one of those foster kids who got in trouble all the time, and he hadn't even finished high school yet. But once the state stopped paying them for his upkeep, they said they couldn't let him stay anymore.
He wondered what would happen to his scholarship and UCLA if he never graduated. He hadn't managed to make it to class once this week. He'd been too busy trying to figure out how to get a roof over his head and food in his stomach.
Without a place to stay, a phone number, or a car with which to get around town, he hadn't been able to find a job. There was a gas station that might have hired him, but they didn't have any open shifts for at least a week, and they had no way to contact him if anything did open up.
And then some creep offered him twenty bucks for a blow job and William had been so hungry that he'd taken the guy up on the offer. He had no idea what he was doing though, he'd never even kissed a girl, and when he choked after trying to swallow the guy had only given him ten bucks. It was still better than nothing.
Since then there had been a few more awkward blow jobs and he'd jerked a couple guys off. He was too frightened to let anyone near his ass, although one customer had nearly done that anyway. William had only barely gotten away from him.
So now here he was with a strange and violent man who was stripping in front of him, and laying his shirt down in the back seat of his car and just expecting Spike to get in.
Being shirtless only made Angel seem more intimidating. Spike's eyes moved over every muscle. This guy was built like one of those old greek statues, except that you generally didn't have to worry about statues hitting you. Angel's nipples were dark and hard, and even though Spike reasoned the cool night air was responsible, he couldn't help but think that Angel was taking him home to use him as some sort of sex slave. After all, he'd obviously known Jason, so he was no stranger to male prostitutes.
Angel seemed to take Spike's hesitation as a sign that Spike was too dazed to know what was going on. Before Spike knew it, Angel had lifted him up, and put him in the back seat of the car. He propped up Spike's head, using the large silk shirt to try and protect the interior.
Angel grabbed his coat, which evidently was as valuable as the upholstery and put it back on, before getting in the driver's seat and starting up the car.
"So uh, where are we going?" Spike asked nervously.
"Home," Angel said. "Get you patched and cleaned up."
Spike was about to say something about how that was quite alright and he'd do just fine on his own, when he thought about how nice a hot shower and a bed somewhere other than a homeless shelter would be.
Maybe he should see how this played out, Spiked figured. It wasn't like he was in any condition to run from Angel anyway.
Spike's position in the back of the car made it hard for him to keep track of where they were going. But it seemed to take forever, or maybe that was just the growing feeling that something awful was about to happen. Finally they drove up a steep hill and into a garage. Spike watched the sliding mechanism as the garage door closed behind the car.
Then Angel was there, helping him up. Spike was surprised at how lightheaded he felt as Angel half carried him up a staircase into a small condo.
The place was rather posh, but not what Spike had expected. The walls were painted in earthy tones, and the furniture was warm and inviting. Not the kind of trendy, sterile, modern place he would have expected a rich gay man to live in.
One wall was lined with books, another had several weapons mounted on it including a couple samurai swords, a staff, and several others, all vaguely oriental. The bookworm in William couldn't help but wonder what the books were, and if Angel really had read them or if they were just for show like the weapons.
Angel sat Spike down on the couch before disappearing. Spike could hear the sound of water running, and then Angel returned a minute later with a first aid kit, a bowl of water and a clean towel.
Angel pulled the blood soaked handkerchief gently away from Spike's forehead and began to examine the wound.
"You're lucky, it doesn't look very serious, but it'll probably scar."
"Well, chicks dig scars, right?" Spike joked.
"I guess," Angel said, as he began to gently wipe away the blood with the wet towel. "You should be careful about where you turn tricks; Jason isn't the worst out there."
"Yeah, and who is, you?" Spike asked, wincing as Angel continued to clean the wound.
Angel chuckled. "Nah, I'm a big softy, ask anyone."
"I don't think anyone would describe you as soft."
"Just proves my point. You've never met a real hard-ass before."
Before Spike could protest, Angel dabbed at the wound with a cotton ball soaked in disinfectant.
"Hey!" Spike hissed in pain as the disinfectant stung.
"Yeah, you're a real tough guy. . ."
"Spike," William said, trying not to wince. Angel snorted. "Yeah?" Spike added defensively. "Like Angel's your real name."
Angel didn't reply. Obviously his opinion of Spike was so low that he didn't feel the need to explain his girly name. He just got up and left. A moment later Spike heard the sounds of the water being shut off.
"You really need a bath," Angel told Spike as he came back and helped Spike to his feet once more.
He guided Spike to the bathroom where the tub was sitting full of lovely looking hot water. For a just a second Spike thought he would do anything Angel asked, as long as he got a chance to soak in that tub.
"Do you need any help?" Angel asked, "Or will you be all right?"
He'd changed his mind, the bath wasn't worth it if it came with strings attached.
"I think I can take off my own clothes," came Spike's surly reply.
His warm fuzzy moment had passed and he was back to being defensive. For all he knew Angel was some kind of psycho homophobe. Not that Spike was gay, but he didn't think Angel would believe him if he'd already decided to gut Spike.
Angel only nodded and left Spike sitting on the toilet as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
Slowly and painfully Spike peeled off his clothes. The water was blissfully hot, as he slowly eased his bruised and aching body into the water. It felt so good, maybe it was worth getting killed by a psycho with a poofy name?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel placed an orange on the cutting board before slicing it in half. Two more sacrifices soon followed before he settled the sliced fruit onto the juicer.
Angel still remembered the days when he would sneak off to a clinic to give blood so that he and Darla would have a little extra cash. They always gave him orange juice and cookies afterwards, so he figured that must be good for blood loss.
Angel stopped for a moment as memories of the one room, hole-in-the-wall apartment that he and Darla had shared washed over him. It had been little more than a closet; it didn't even have a bathroom, they had to go down the hall for that. But when they were together there, they felt safe. They could pretend that they were just two kids in love. That they had choices and a chance in the world.
It had been the happiest time of Angel's life. He looked around at his condo in the Hollywood Hills, the beautiful kitchen, the plasma TV, all the material trappings of a successful life. But what he felt was the gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be and he knew he'd give it all up to be back in that rat infested shit-hole with Darla.
He shook his head to clear away the depressing thoughts.
Cookies. He didn't have any cookies. For a moment Angel thought about trying to bake some, but he realized he didn't have the ingredients. And he'd never been good with baking like he was with other kinds of cooking. Besides the kid would probably want something to eat before that. He did have chocolate flavored protein bars. Maybe that would do.
Angel wasn't really sure why he'd decided to help Spike, except that he'd never really been able to stand by and watch other people get hurt. At least not without Darla there to remind him of his priorities.
Darla would be pissed when she found out. She'd remind him that it had been helping strangers and not minding his own business that had fucked up both their lives in the first place.
But there just wasn't enough left in Angel to care if Darla got mad at him. Not anymore anyway, it had been years since she'd been able to stand him. He was useful to her, that was it.
Angel padlocked the front door. He might hate his life, but he did have nice stuff, and he didn't want the kid to try and run off with any of it.
Then he grabbed an old pair of sweats from the bedroom, the orange juice, and the energy bar and headed into the bathroom.
"Hey!" Spike protested his hand descending under the water to cover his privates.
"This may shock you," Angel said, amused by the young whore's modesty, "but I've seen a penis before. Look, don't worry, you're not my type. And I brought you juice."
Angel set the glass down on the edge of the tub along with the energy bar.
"What the hell is this?" Spike asked holding up the protein bar.
"I didn't have any cookies," Angel explained.
"I'm not a kid," Spike said defensively.
"I didn't mean. . . never mind," Angel gave up.
"So do you mind?" Spike asked, one hand still covering his privates while he reached for the juice with the other.
"Oh? Right?." Angel got up and placed the sweat pants on the toilet, and gathered up Spike's discarded clothes. "You can wear these until I get your stuff washed. Probably won't be able to get all the blood out though."
Spike only nodded as he greedily drank down the OJ.
"Okay, then." Angel said as he left.
Angel moved into the bedroom and changed into a set of black silk pajama bottoms. For a moment he debated sleeping on the couch and letting Spike have the bed to himself, but then Angel figured fuck it. Spike was a whore; he could deal with a night in a bed with a man who wasn't going to do anything.
Angel picked up a book, and tried to read, but he couldn't seem to focus. It was all Jason's fault. It wasn't often that Angel had to get violent, and he always felt awful afterwards, but Jason just had to try and pull one over on Darla.
In fact it was Jason's fault that there was a strange kid naked in Angel's tub right now. If he hadn't had to hurt Jason he wouldn't have felt so guilty and brought home the first beat up hooker he ran across.
Finally Spike emerged from the bathroom, the too big sweat pants hanging low on his hips.
"You're probably tired," Angel said without looking up from his book. "The bedroom is over there," he pointed.
He could almost feel Spike's nervousness, but there wasn't much Angel could do about that. Even if he said point blank that he wasn't going to fuck Spike, the kid probably wouldn't believe it.
So Angel sat for a while longer trying to read, until he hoped Spike had settled himself in.
When Angel finally entered the bedroom, Spike was lying there perfectly still but Angel could tell from the kid's ragged breathing that he was still awake. Probably all curled up into a big ball of tension just waiting for Angel to make a move.
Angel lay down, careful to keep as much distance as was possible on the bed from Spike, so as not to spook the boy.
It took a while for Spike to relax enough to fall asleep and even longer for Angel. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone in his bed. His fingers ached to brush the hair away from Spike's face.
There was something about the kid that reminded Angel of Darla, back when they had first met and she tried to pretend she was tough and that nothing scared her. But then Angel would pull her into his arms and she would cry herself to sleep.
It felt wrong to have another body so close, and not to have his arms wrapped protectively around it, but somehow he didn't think Spike would take too well to that.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Angel settled in for a sleepless night.
Title: The Guardian
Pairing: Spike/Angel and flashbacks to Angel/Darla
Rating: NC-17 (please read the warnings)
Summary: All human AU. It was eight years ago that Liam promised to protect Darla and be her angel. It's a promise he's done his best to keep, even if these days she can barely stand to be around him. Then one night he finds a young prostitute, William, getting beat up in an alley. But will helping William destroy the delicate balance of Angel's life, or will it be William who saves Angel from his own dark past?
Warning: This is a dark and angsty fic, mostly concerning Angel's past with Darla. There's mention of non-con, a lot of this story is about prostitution, and there's a flashback to Angel and Darla when they are 17 that's very sexual in nature. And then of course there is some violence. I think that about covers it, but I'll add specific warnings for various chapters.
Thanks to
slackerace for the beta. I made a few other changes though, so any remaining mistakes are my own.Chapter 1:
"This is my territory kid," the man said as his fist slammed into William's jaw.
Somehow William managed to speak despite the pain and the fear. "That the best you got?"
William had this theory that if he pretended to be tough, people would leave him alone. That's why he was calling himself Spike these days, and he'd bleached his hair blond. He thought it made him look kind of punk and he didn't know how else to make himself look tough.
So far it hadn't worked. But seeing as he didn't know how to fight, his only other option was to beg and grovel. And if school yard bullies had taught William anything, it was that begging never made them go away. So it was better to pretend to be Spike than William.
His show of defiance got him a punch in the stomach and he doubled over in pain. Spike heard the sound of glass breaking and the next thing he knew his attacker had yanked Spike's head back by the hair, and was holding a broken bottle near his eye.
"Let's see who wants to fuck you now?"
Spike didn't hear the last words because he was crying out as the glass cut into the skin above his eye. Terror raced through his veins as he imagination began to fill him with images of the glass cutting his eye out.
He was so overwhelmed with terrified anticipation that he didn't notice at first when the cutting stopped.
"Hey, Angel, man," Spike's attacker was saying, "I was just uh, this kid was in my territory."
That's when Spike realized they were not alone. He blinked several times, his eye stinging from the blood that was running down into it. He tried to wipe the blood away, but that sent new fears through him. What if the cut was infected, what if he was infecting it right now? He'd jerked off a guy a little while ago. What if there was still some semen on his hands? Would he end up with AIDS?
Somehow he managed to blink enough that he could see the silhouette of a large man at the mouth of the alley.
"Is that so, Jason?" the big man asked as he moved closer. "Since when do you have territory?"
"I mean, Darla's territory," Jason stammered.
It was obvious that he was scared of this Angel fellow, and Spike couldn't decide if that was good or bad for him. He wasn't really sure he wanted to get to know someone who scared the man who'd been carving up his face with a broken bottle.
"Look, I was just trying to help you out," Jason continued. "You know, take care of this guy for you?"
Angel was standing directly in front of Jason now, looming over Spike as well. Now that he was closer, Spike was struck by how well dressed Angel was–silk shirt, perfectly tailored suit, and a long black coat. He looked like he should be in a boardroom, not in the back ally of a seedy, LA gay club.
"So you want my job, is that it Jason?" Angel asked.
"No, no man, that's not it. . . It's just- ugh!" Jason was cut off as Angel slammed his fist into Jason's stomach, and the smaller man doubled over in pain as he gasped for breath.
"So not only have you been trying to short Darla," Angel yanked Jason up by the hair so that he could punch him in the stomach again. "But you want to take my job too. Is that right?"
"No," was the only word Jason got out as Angel's fists continued to slam into his body.
Spike watched with glee as his attacker was beaten senseless. When Angel decided he'd had enough, he began to rifle through Jason's pockets.
He pulled out a thick wad of cash and shook his head. "You really are a dumb shit. All you had to do was give Darla her cut."
Jason's only response was to moan.
Then Angel looked at Spike for the first time.
Spike's first instinct after the brutality he'd just witnessed was to pull away and try and hide in the shadows. But there was something kind and concerned in those big brown eyes.
"Head wounds are a bitch, huh?" Angel said, pulling a handkerchief out of his pocket and handing it to Spike.
Spike took it hesitantly, and pressed it against his eyebrow to try and staunch the bleeding.
"Come on," Angel said, as he put an arm around Spike and hauled him to his feet.
Spike felt dizzy, as he tried to stand, but luckily Angel was there, supporting his weight. The bigger man had to hunch over to accommodate Spike's smaller form, but they managed to stumble out of the alley.
Spike was grateful, but also nervous. He didn't rely on the kindness of strangers–in his experience, they didn't have any. Hell, is his experience people you knew weren't likely to go out of their way either.
Angel led Spike to an old black convertible, before pausing. "Fuck. Look, don't take this the wrong way but I don't want you bleeding all over my interior, okay?" Angel said as he leaned Spike against the side of the car.
Spike was a bit relieved actually. It was nice to know this guy cared more about his car than he did about some beat up kid he didn't even know. That fit in much better with Spike's notion of how the world worked. Of course, Spike didn't have much choice about where he did or didn't bleed.
Angel shrugged out of his coat. At first Spike thought that Angel was going to set that down for him to lie on. Instead, Angel just draped it over the passenger side door, as he unbuttoned the silk shirt he was wearing.
Spike was nervous again. Why was this guy helping him? Especially considering Angel had just beaten another man to a pulp.
Whatever name he had given himself, deep down William knew that he was about as street smart as a puppy. He'd let his eighteenth birthday just kind of sneak up on him. It wasn't like he hadn't made plans; he'd been accepted to UCLA and had a scholarship and everything. Unfortunately, that didn't kick in until the fall and it was only March. He had never thought that the Drakes would kick him out just because he'd turned eighteen. They'd always seemed to like him well enough, he wasn't one of those foster kids who got in trouble all the time, and he hadn't even finished high school yet. But once the state stopped paying them for his upkeep, they said they couldn't let him stay anymore.
He wondered what would happen to his scholarship and UCLA if he never graduated. He hadn't managed to make it to class once this week. He'd been too busy trying to figure out how to get a roof over his head and food in his stomach.
Without a place to stay, a phone number, or a car with which to get around town, he hadn't been able to find a job. There was a gas station that might have hired him, but they didn't have any open shifts for at least a week, and they had no way to contact him if anything did open up.
And then some creep offered him twenty bucks for a blow job and William had been so hungry that he'd taken the guy up on the offer. He had no idea what he was doing though, he'd never even kissed a girl, and when he choked after trying to swallow the guy had only given him ten bucks. It was still better than nothing.
Since then there had been a few more awkward blow jobs and he'd jerked a couple guys off. He was too frightened to let anyone near his ass, although one customer had nearly done that anyway. William had only barely gotten away from him.
So now here he was with a strange and violent man who was stripping in front of him, and laying his shirt down in the back seat of his car and just expecting Spike to get in.
Being shirtless only made Angel seem more intimidating. Spike's eyes moved over every muscle. This guy was built like one of those old greek statues, except that you generally didn't have to worry about statues hitting you. Angel's nipples were dark and hard, and even though Spike reasoned the cool night air was responsible, he couldn't help but think that Angel was taking him home to use him as some sort of sex slave. After all, he'd obviously known Jason, so he was no stranger to male prostitutes.
Angel seemed to take Spike's hesitation as a sign that Spike was too dazed to know what was going on. Before Spike knew it, Angel had lifted him up, and put him in the back seat of the car. He propped up Spike's head, using the large silk shirt to try and protect the interior.
Angel grabbed his coat, which evidently was as valuable as the upholstery and put it back on, before getting in the driver's seat and starting up the car.
"So uh, where are we going?" Spike asked nervously.
"Home," Angel said. "Get you patched and cleaned up."
Spike was about to say something about how that was quite alright and he'd do just fine on his own, when he thought about how nice a hot shower and a bed somewhere other than a homeless shelter would be.
Maybe he should see how this played out, Spiked figured. It wasn't like he was in any condition to run from Angel anyway.
Spike's position in the back of the car made it hard for him to keep track of where they were going. But it seemed to take forever, or maybe that was just the growing feeling that something awful was about to happen. Finally they drove up a steep hill and into a garage. Spike watched the sliding mechanism as the garage door closed behind the car.
Then Angel was there, helping him up. Spike was surprised at how lightheaded he felt as Angel half carried him up a staircase into a small condo.
The place was rather posh, but not what Spike had expected. The walls were painted in earthy tones, and the furniture was warm and inviting. Not the kind of trendy, sterile, modern place he would have expected a rich gay man to live in.
One wall was lined with books, another had several weapons mounted on it including a couple samurai swords, a staff, and several others, all vaguely oriental. The bookworm in William couldn't help but wonder what the books were, and if Angel really had read them or if they were just for show like the weapons.
Angel sat Spike down on the couch before disappearing. Spike could hear the sound of water running, and then Angel returned a minute later with a first aid kit, a bowl of water and a clean towel.
Angel pulled the blood soaked handkerchief gently away from Spike's forehead and began to examine the wound.
"You're lucky, it doesn't look very serious, but it'll probably scar."
"Well, chicks dig scars, right?" Spike joked.
"I guess," Angel said, as he began to gently wipe away the blood with the wet towel. "You should be careful about where you turn tricks; Jason isn't the worst out there."
"Yeah, and who is, you?" Spike asked, wincing as Angel continued to clean the wound.
Angel chuckled. "Nah, I'm a big softy, ask anyone."
"I don't think anyone would describe you as soft."
"Just proves my point. You've never met a real hard-ass before."
Before Spike could protest, Angel dabbed at the wound with a cotton ball soaked in disinfectant.
"Hey!" Spike hissed in pain as the disinfectant stung.
"Yeah, you're a real tough guy. . ."
"Spike," William said, trying not to wince. Angel snorted. "Yeah?" Spike added defensively. "Like Angel's your real name."
Angel didn't reply. Obviously his opinion of Spike was so low that he didn't feel the need to explain his girly name. He just got up and left. A moment later Spike heard the sounds of the water being shut off.
"You really need a bath," Angel told Spike as he came back and helped Spike to his feet once more.
He guided Spike to the bathroom where the tub was sitting full of lovely looking hot water. For a just a second Spike thought he would do anything Angel asked, as long as he got a chance to soak in that tub.
"Do you need any help?" Angel asked, "Or will you be all right?"
He'd changed his mind, the bath wasn't worth it if it came with strings attached.
"I think I can take off my own clothes," came Spike's surly reply.
His warm fuzzy moment had passed and he was back to being defensive. For all he knew Angel was some kind of psycho homophobe. Not that Spike was gay, but he didn't think Angel would believe him if he'd already decided to gut Spike.
Angel only nodded and left Spike sitting on the toilet as he closed the bathroom door behind him.
Slowly and painfully Spike peeled off his clothes. The water was blissfully hot, as he slowly eased his bruised and aching body into the water. It felt so good, maybe it was worth getting killed by a psycho with a poofy name?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Angel placed an orange on the cutting board before slicing it in half. Two more sacrifices soon followed before he settled the sliced fruit onto the juicer.
Angel still remembered the days when he would sneak off to a clinic to give blood so that he and Darla would have a little extra cash. They always gave him orange juice and cookies afterwards, so he figured that must be good for blood loss.
Angel stopped for a moment as memories of the one room, hole-in-the-wall apartment that he and Darla had shared washed over him. It had been little more than a closet; it didn't even have a bathroom, they had to go down the hall for that. But when they were together there, they felt safe. They could pretend that they were just two kids in love. That they had choices and a chance in the world.
It had been the happiest time of Angel's life. He looked around at his condo in the Hollywood Hills, the beautiful kitchen, the plasma TV, all the material trappings of a successful life. But what he felt was the gaping hole in his chest where his heart used to be and he knew he'd give it all up to be back in that rat infested shit-hole with Darla.
He shook his head to clear away the depressing thoughts.
Cookies. He didn't have any cookies. For a moment Angel thought about trying to bake some, but he realized he didn't have the ingredients. And he'd never been good with baking like he was with other kinds of cooking. Besides the kid would probably want something to eat before that. He did have chocolate flavored protein bars. Maybe that would do.
Angel wasn't really sure why he'd decided to help Spike, except that he'd never really been able to stand by and watch other people get hurt. At least not without Darla there to remind him of his priorities.
Darla would be pissed when she found out. She'd remind him that it had been helping strangers and not minding his own business that had fucked up both their lives in the first place.
But there just wasn't enough left in Angel to care if Darla got mad at him. Not anymore anyway, it had been years since she'd been able to stand him. He was useful to her, that was it.
Angel padlocked the front door. He might hate his life, but he did have nice stuff, and he didn't want the kid to try and run off with any of it.
Then he grabbed an old pair of sweats from the bedroom, the orange juice, and the energy bar and headed into the bathroom.
"Hey!" Spike protested his hand descending under the water to cover his privates.
"This may shock you," Angel said, amused by the young whore's modesty, "but I've seen a penis before. Look, don't worry, you're not my type. And I brought you juice."
Angel set the glass down on the edge of the tub along with the energy bar.
"What the hell is this?" Spike asked holding up the protein bar.
"I didn't have any cookies," Angel explained.
"I'm not a kid," Spike said defensively.
"I didn't mean. . . never mind," Angel gave up.
"So do you mind?" Spike asked, one hand still covering his privates while he reached for the juice with the other.
"Oh? Right?." Angel got up and placed the sweat pants on the toilet, and gathered up Spike's discarded clothes. "You can wear these until I get your stuff washed. Probably won't be able to get all the blood out though."
Spike only nodded as he greedily drank down the OJ.
"Okay, then." Angel said as he left.
Angel moved into the bedroom and changed into a set of black silk pajama bottoms. For a moment he debated sleeping on the couch and letting Spike have the bed to himself, but then Angel figured fuck it. Spike was a whore; he could deal with a night in a bed with a man who wasn't going to do anything.
Angel picked up a book, and tried to read, but he couldn't seem to focus. It was all Jason's fault. It wasn't often that Angel had to get violent, and he always felt awful afterwards, but Jason just had to try and pull one over on Darla.
In fact it was Jason's fault that there was a strange kid naked in Angel's tub right now. If he hadn't had to hurt Jason he wouldn't have felt so guilty and brought home the first beat up hooker he ran across.
Finally Spike emerged from the bathroom, the too big sweat pants hanging low on his hips.
"You're probably tired," Angel said without looking up from his book. "The bedroom is over there," he pointed.
He could almost feel Spike's nervousness, but there wasn't much Angel could do about that. Even if he said point blank that he wasn't going to fuck Spike, the kid probably wouldn't believe it.
So Angel sat for a while longer trying to read, until he hoped Spike had settled himself in.
When Angel finally entered the bedroom, Spike was lying there perfectly still but Angel could tell from the kid's ragged breathing that he was still awake. Probably all curled up into a big ball of tension just waiting for Angel to make a move.
Angel lay down, careful to keep as much distance as was possible on the bed from Spike, so as not to spook the boy.
It took a while for Spike to relax enough to fall asleep and even longer for Angel. It had been a long time since he'd had anyone in his bed. His fingers ached to brush the hair away from Spike's face.
There was something about the kid that reminded Angel of Darla, back when they had first met and she tried to pretend she was tough and that nothing scared her. But then Angel would pull her into his arms and she would cry herself to sleep.
It felt wrong to have another body so close, and not to have his arms wrapped protectively around it, but somehow he didn't think Spike would take too well to that.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Angel settled in for a sleepless night.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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Date: 2007-05-05 10:29 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 05:07 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 08:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 08:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 08:20 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 08:43 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 10:50 pm (UTC)uh, yeah, that's generally a bad sign ;)
I like Angel being worried about him bleeding all over his car. lol. so in-character.
The bookworm in William couldn't help but wonder what the books were, and if Angel really had read them or if they were just for show like the weapons.
who said the weapons are for show? *pets him*
awww. interested to see what comes next :)
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Date: 2007-05-06 12:08 am (UTC)It is, and yet if Spike were a damsel he'd probably be swooning and saying, "My hero," instead of worrying about if things were about to get worse.
I like Angel being worried about him bleeding all over his car. lol. so in-character.
Thanks. I love Angel's obsession with his car, or cars in general. Maybe cause it's one of those guy things I just don't get :)
who said the weapons are for show? *pets him*
hehe, well to be fair, those are Angel's display weapons. He keeps his everyday weapons elsewhere :)
Glad you like it so far, and what a sweet Spangel icon. Spike looks just like a big kitty waiting to be petted.
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Date: 2007-05-06 12:13 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-05 10:55 pm (UTC)Thanks for sharing! I know human AU's are hard to write when you're used to seeing the characters a certain way, but this is great. Looking forward to more.
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Date: 2007-05-06 12:16 am (UTC)He is softie, unfortunately he's not entirely his own man, so it may not be so easy for him to take Spike in.
I know human AU's are hard to write when you're used to seeing the characters a certain way, but this is great.
Thank you, glad you like it so far. And yeah, it's a little harder writing them this way, but I like it.
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Date: 2007-05-07 04:09 am (UTC)Uh oh. I'm sensing angst and obstacles before our boys get together. Not that I'm complaining or anything! ;)
Mind if I friend you? I don't want to miss any updates.
~Alexis
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Date: 2007-05-09 05:40 pm (UTC)Well there are definitely obstacles and angst ahead. Of course I originally saw this story as having lots and lots of UST but I think the boys aren't going to be able to keep their hands to themselves. What can you do?
And please feel free to friend me. Especially cause I'm an Alexis too. And you know, we have to stick together in this fandom since for some strange reason people in it seem to think Alexis is a guys name ;)
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Date: 2007-05-09 06:24 pm (UTC)Seriously?! That's so cool. I haven't met many. As for thinking its a guys' name... haven't they ever heard of Alexis Bledel?
think the boys aren't going to be able to keep their hands to themselves. What can you do?
Go straight for the smut. *nods vigorously*
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Date: 2007-05-05 11:33 pm (UTC)Spike was a bit relieved actually. It was nice to know this guy cared more about his car than he did about some beat up kid he didn't even know. That fit in much better with Spike's notion of how the world worked. Of course, Spike didn't have much choice about where he did or didn't bleed.
I loved that bit. Just...so in character as real, you know?
This looks very promising.
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Date: 2007-05-05 11:34 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-06 12:21 am (UTC)And I'm glad you liked the bit with the car. I love Angel's thing for his car, and he doesn't know Spike at this point so Spike is much lower on the priority list than the car.
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Date: 2007-05-06 03:42 am (UTC)And *snerk* to Angel's coment about being a soft. Yup, a big cuddly Care Bear with fangs
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Date: 2007-05-06 04:53 am (UTC)And I'm glad you liked Angel's comment about being soft. I wasn't entirely sure of that, because maintaining his tough guy image is important to Angel in this fic, on the other hand he needed to win a little of Spike's trust.
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Date: 2007-05-09 02:41 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-09 05:24 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-05-09 09:41 pm (UTC)Ain't that the truth!
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Date: 2007-05-10 07:29 pm (UTC)no subject
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Date: 2008-06-25 07:28 pm (UTC)