The Guardian Chapter 9
Aug. 12th, 2007 10:14 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
iceminkTitle: 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.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to all sorts of other people like Joss, ME, and Fox. I just do strange things to them for free.
Previous chapters are here.
Thanks to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
dark_amia for the lovely banner.
Chapter 9:
Breakfast passed in something not quite like silence. Spike made a few attempts at conversation, but whatever he said was completely lost on Angel, who was too caught up in his own thoughts.
Angel didn't know how to feel about his behavior the night before. Especially after seeing the bruises he'd left on Spike's arms. Of course it wasn't like he'd really taken advantage of the kid. After all, Spike was the one who gotten off last night. Still he felt bad about restraining the kid.
He was even more confused by what he'd said about it this morning. Daring Spike to fight him, and implying that Angel wouldn't take no for an answer. He wasn't like that, he told himself over and over. It was a bit like being in prison again. Pretending not to care, bragging about things he was ashamed of, acting like the sort of person he told himself that he wasn't.
As for the hand job he'd gotten this morning, it had done nothing to slacken his lust. Instead, Angel found himself wondering what Spike might do to get out of doing the dishes.
He decided it was best to avoid that situation for now.
"We're going to need to get you some new clothes," Angel said.
"Hey, I haven't agreed to anything yet," Spike insisted.
Angel smirked. "You just traded a hand job for getting out of doing the laundry, and you're saying you're not my whore?"
"Yeah, well um. . . " Angel smiled at Spike's inability to explain that away. "Just so we're clear," Spike finally continued. "During the day my time is my own, right?"
"Yeah, of course," Angel said.
"Right. Well then, I guess. . . yeah."
Glad to finally have that formality out of the way, Angel told him, "Then I'll call Darla. She can take you out shopping today."
"What? Wait!" Spike objected. "I am not going anywhere with her."
"Yes you are," Angel said flatly. "You work for both of us now, and she's. . . better at this sort of thing than I am."
It was true. Angel had no idea what sort of clothes to get Spike, especially considering the industrial bleach accident that was his hair. Darla on the other hand would know exactly how to fix that. She always seemed to know exactly what men wanted, even when it was other men.
Besides, Angel thought it was probably best that he not be around as Spike was trying on sexy clothes, considering Angel's recent lack of self control.
He didn't give Spike the chance to argue any further, or rather he didn't listen to Spike as he continued to complain. He just picked up the phone and called Darla trying very hard to drown out a certain young Brit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike absolutely refused to accept that his afternoon with Darla was actually rather a nice time, or that she wasn't that bad to be around when she wasn't waving a gun at you.
Luckily he could still find enough reasons to be upset with her. Like the fact that even though he liked the clothes she suggested for him, and she seemed to understand exactly the look he'd been going for when he'd bleached his hair, she also seemed to chose the most expensive clothes there were. He was sure that was an attempt to get him further and further into debt so he'd be stuck working for her and Angel for even longer.
He was also angry about her constant flirting and the compliments she gave him as he tried the various clothes on. He was sure she didn't mean any of it, but that didn't mean it didn't thrill him a little. No woman as pretty as she had ever paid him any mind before, and even though he knew better than to fall for her charm, he could feel himself softening to her. He hated her for that, because hating her was very important. He was already starting to lose his head over Angel, he didn't need to start liking Darla, too.
Still, it did present him with an opportunity to find out a bit more about Angel.
As Darla was picking through one of the racks he asked her, "So you and Angel. . ."
"Hmm?" she asked.
"What's the deal with you two?" he probed a bit more.
"We're partners, why?" she responded as she held a mesh shirt up in front of him.
"Just think if I'm working for you guys I should know where I stand," he explained. "So just business partners then?"
She looked up from the shirt to meet his eyes and then she smiled broadly. "You have a crush," she accused.
"What? No, where'd you get an idea like that?" he objected.
"You do," she taunted him.
"Do not!" he insisted.
She giggled at him. "Poor boy, Angel doesn't sleep with his whores."
He wanted to hit her. He didn't of course, but he wanted to. He still wasn't used to being called a whore, and worse he was afraid that was how Angel saw him. Not that it should matter how Angel saw him. He had to remind himself that this was all just temporary.
"Yeah, what would you know about it?" he asked angrily. After all Angel hadn't objected when he'd given him the hand job that morning.
"Where Angel's concerned? Everything. You're not his type."
"Oh, and I suppose you are?" Spike shot back.
She shrugged and smiled, as if nothing more needed to be said.
Her attitude infuriated Spike, mostly because he was so worried that she might be right. He wasn't sure how to define what he wanted from Angel, but it was more than what had transpired that morning and the night before.
His anger made him speak without thinking. "Prove it," he demanded.
"Excuse me?" she asked amused.
"Prove you're his type." His mouth kept going without any permission from his brain. "When we're done. . . I don't know, kiss him or something."
"Please, I don't need to prove anything to you."
"What's the matter, 'fraid you aren't as sexy as you think you are. Maybe he knows you too well to want to screw you."
Her eyes flared up, and he could tell he'd hit some kind of nerve. "Fine, maybe you'll learn a thing or two about appealing to men."
Bugger, Spike thought, as he realized what a stupid thing he'd just done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darla let the door to Angel's condo close behind her, feeling like an idiot. How had she let some punk kid dare her into trying to seduce Angel?
She knew she could of course; Angel was hers any time she pleased. Despite the fact that she couldn't forgive him, and often couldn't stand to be around him, sometimes she broke down and needed the familiar safety of his arms.
It was never her nightmares, her sorrow, or her loneliness that drove her to him. She could bear all of those. They were her armor, the things that allowed her to move from day to day.
No, she would break a nail, or lose an earring, or get stuck in traffic, and suddenly it would all be too much for her. That was when she would run back to Angel.
But this wasn't one of those times. And afterwards he was always so hurt. He would look at her with those big puppy dog eyes of his, and it would break her heart just a little, because he still believed, he still had hope that somehow they could work it all out, somehow they could be happy again. And it reminded her of what it had been like to love him.
So she didn't need to cause him that sort of pain, at least not because some uppity whore had dared her to.
She walked up the stairs to her own half of the duplex. Her apartment was slightly bigger than Angel's, having two bedrooms instead of just the one. As she entered she made her way over to the stereo and turned it on. Then she headed into the smaller bedroom as the words, "Hello darkness my old friend," trailed after her.
Unlike the rest of the apartment which was black, white, and modern, this room had soft blue walls, and a warm feeling to it. As soon as she entered she knew that something was different, which meant that Angel had been there more recently than her.
It only took her a moment to find what he had changed. There on one of the shelves stood several rows of little green army men in formation.
Darla picked up one of the tiny soldiers and ran her finger over the tip of the plastic bayonet. She frowned at the sharp edge, before putting the sergeant back with his men. She supposed it didn't really matter, their fate would be the same as all the other toys in the room; they would sit, unplayed with and unloved.
She moved over to the bed and picked up a blue teddy bear which had "It's a boy!" embroidered on his belly. Wrapping the stuffed animal in an embrace she lay down on the child's bed. For a moment she buried her face in the fuzzy top of the bear's head before looking out at the rest of the room.
After a moment she decided she rather liked the soldiers after all. Silently they stood watch with her, waiting for the child who was never coming home.
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.
Disclaimer: The characters belong to all sorts of other people like Joss, ME, and Fox. I just do strange things to them for free.
Previous chapters are here.
Thanks to
dark_amia for the lovely banner.Chapter 9:
Breakfast passed in something not quite like silence. Spike made a few attempts at conversation, but whatever he said was completely lost on Angel, who was too caught up in his own thoughts.
Angel didn't know how to feel about his behavior the night before. Especially after seeing the bruises he'd left on Spike's arms. Of course it wasn't like he'd really taken advantage of the kid. After all, Spike was the one who gotten off last night. Still he felt bad about restraining the kid.
He was even more confused by what he'd said about it this morning. Daring Spike to fight him, and implying that Angel wouldn't take no for an answer. He wasn't like that, he told himself over and over. It was a bit like being in prison again. Pretending not to care, bragging about things he was ashamed of, acting like the sort of person he told himself that he wasn't.
As for the hand job he'd gotten this morning, it had done nothing to slacken his lust. Instead, Angel found himself wondering what Spike might do to get out of doing the dishes.
He decided it was best to avoid that situation for now.
"We're going to need to get you some new clothes," Angel said.
"Hey, I haven't agreed to anything yet," Spike insisted.
Angel smirked. "You just traded a hand job for getting out of doing the laundry, and you're saying you're not my whore?"
"Yeah, well um. . . " Angel smiled at Spike's inability to explain that away. "Just so we're clear," Spike finally continued. "During the day my time is my own, right?"
"Yeah, of course," Angel said.
"Right. Well then, I guess. . . yeah."
Glad to finally have that formality out of the way, Angel told him, "Then I'll call Darla. She can take you out shopping today."
"What? Wait!" Spike objected. "I am not going anywhere with her."
"Yes you are," Angel said flatly. "You work for both of us now, and she's. . . better at this sort of thing than I am."
It was true. Angel had no idea what sort of clothes to get Spike, especially considering the industrial bleach accident that was his hair. Darla on the other hand would know exactly how to fix that. She always seemed to know exactly what men wanted, even when it was other men.
Besides, Angel thought it was probably best that he not be around as Spike was trying on sexy clothes, considering Angel's recent lack of self control.
He didn't give Spike the chance to argue any further, or rather he didn't listen to Spike as he continued to complain. He just picked up the phone and called Darla trying very hard to drown out a certain young Brit.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Spike absolutely refused to accept that his afternoon with Darla was actually rather a nice time, or that she wasn't that bad to be around when she wasn't waving a gun at you.
Luckily he could still find enough reasons to be upset with her. Like the fact that even though he liked the clothes she suggested for him, and she seemed to understand exactly the look he'd been going for when he'd bleached his hair, she also seemed to chose the most expensive clothes there were. He was sure that was an attempt to get him further and further into debt so he'd be stuck working for her and Angel for even longer.
He was also angry about her constant flirting and the compliments she gave him as he tried the various clothes on. He was sure she didn't mean any of it, but that didn't mean it didn't thrill him a little. No woman as pretty as she had ever paid him any mind before, and even though he knew better than to fall for her charm, he could feel himself softening to her. He hated her for that, because hating her was very important. He was already starting to lose his head over Angel, he didn't need to start liking Darla, too.
Still, it did present him with an opportunity to find out a bit more about Angel.
As Darla was picking through one of the racks he asked her, "So you and Angel. . ."
"Hmm?" she asked.
"What's the deal with you two?" he probed a bit more.
"We're partners, why?" she responded as she held a mesh shirt up in front of him.
"Just think if I'm working for you guys I should know where I stand," he explained. "So just business partners then?"
She looked up from the shirt to meet his eyes and then she smiled broadly. "You have a crush," she accused.
"What? No, where'd you get an idea like that?" he objected.
"You do," she taunted him.
"Do not!" he insisted.
She giggled at him. "Poor boy, Angel doesn't sleep with his whores."
He wanted to hit her. He didn't of course, but he wanted to. He still wasn't used to being called a whore, and worse he was afraid that was how Angel saw him. Not that it should matter how Angel saw him. He had to remind himself that this was all just temporary.
"Yeah, what would you know about it?" he asked angrily. After all Angel hadn't objected when he'd given him the hand job that morning.
"Where Angel's concerned? Everything. You're not his type."
"Oh, and I suppose you are?" Spike shot back.
She shrugged and smiled, as if nothing more needed to be said.
Her attitude infuriated Spike, mostly because he was so worried that she might be right. He wasn't sure how to define what he wanted from Angel, but it was more than what had transpired that morning and the night before.
His anger made him speak without thinking. "Prove it," he demanded.
"Excuse me?" she asked amused.
"Prove you're his type." His mouth kept going without any permission from his brain. "When we're done. . . I don't know, kiss him or something."
"Please, I don't need to prove anything to you."
"What's the matter, 'fraid you aren't as sexy as you think you are. Maybe he knows you too well to want to screw you."
Her eyes flared up, and he could tell he'd hit some kind of nerve. "Fine, maybe you'll learn a thing or two about appealing to men."
Bugger, Spike thought, as he realized what a stupid thing he'd just done.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Darla let the door to Angel's condo close behind her, feeling like an idiot. How had she let some punk kid dare her into trying to seduce Angel?
She knew she could of course; Angel was hers any time she pleased. Despite the fact that she couldn't forgive him, and often couldn't stand to be around him, sometimes she broke down and needed the familiar safety of his arms.
It was never her nightmares, her sorrow, or her loneliness that drove her to him. She could bear all of those. They were her armor, the things that allowed her to move from day to day.
No, she would break a nail, or lose an earring, or get stuck in traffic, and suddenly it would all be too much for her. That was when she would run back to Angel.
But this wasn't one of those times. And afterwards he was always so hurt. He would look at her with those big puppy dog eyes of his, and it would break her heart just a little, because he still believed, he still had hope that somehow they could work it all out, somehow they could be happy again. And it reminded her of what it had been like to love him.
So she didn't need to cause him that sort of pain, at least not because some uppity whore had dared her to.
She walked up the stairs to her own half of the duplex. Her apartment was slightly bigger than Angel's, having two bedrooms instead of just the one. As she entered she made her way over to the stereo and turned it on. Then she headed into the smaller bedroom as the words, "Hello darkness my old friend," trailed after her.
Unlike the rest of the apartment which was black, white, and modern, this room had soft blue walls, and a warm feeling to it. As soon as she entered she knew that something was different, which meant that Angel had been there more recently than her.
It only took her a moment to find what he had changed. There on one of the shelves stood several rows of little green army men in formation.
Darla picked up one of the tiny soldiers and ran her finger over the tip of the plastic bayonet. She frowned at the sharp edge, before putting the sergeant back with his men. She supposed it didn't really matter, their fate would be the same as all the other toys in the room; they would sit, unplayed with and unloved.
She moved over to the bed and picked up a blue teddy bear which had "It's a boy!" embroidered on his belly. Wrapping the stuffed animal in an embrace she lay down on the child's bed. For a moment she buried her face in the fuzzy top of the bear's head before looking out at the rest of the room.
After a moment she decided she rather liked the soldiers after all. Silently they stood watch with her, waiting for the child who was never coming home.
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Date: 2007-08-13 03:43 pm (UTC)