Souls Found
None of these characters are mine; all credit goes to the writers of BtVS. If you wish to share this work with someone be my guest. This is a sequel to my LOST SOULS fic.
R - that gang's all here!
A note to the faithful - First of all to - maddierw - wow, I'm humbled by your words! Second, to Divamercury, rain, Kristy Marie and spikey666 - hope the sequel is living up to your expectations! Third - to Shahid and Tariq - DADDY'S BACK and hugs to ms8309, Martin, Pearl and Melian7 for tuning in! Mega thank you's to silversonnet, Slayerchick1978, LilBratyChild, Sk8erGrl1, whiteknight, Telcochik and Xanders Guardian Angel - thanks for reading all my fics. Your feedback and investment are an inspiration!
Truly, feedback is helpful especially when you are taking characters into the great AU and still trying to be true to their spirits.
Chapter 9
It is almost twilight when Xander and Willow walk into the main room to find that Spike has wasted no time in making himself at home. The TV is on, the stereo is blaring Elvis Costello and there is a pizza box on the floor. Xander looks cautiously around for the pizza boy. Expecting a body to be lying on the floor as well. But surprise - no dead body just cold pizza. Still, the bastard needs to learn whose home he is in. In the space of a second, Xander is in full game face with Spike pinned against the wall. "Where the hell is Buffy?" he snarls.
Surprisingly, Spike doesn't vamp out or make a move to fight. He stays still and limp in Xander's grasp. Holding up his open palms in a gesture of surrender, he speaks, "I don't know where your girlie is, been askin' myself the same question. Figure she's a big girl, can take care o' herself, that one."
With a warning growl, Xander drops the interloper to the floor and begins to pace in front of him. "I don't know what your game is Spike but you are close to being dust. Now tell me what the hell has been going on with you and Buffy."
Propping himself up against the wall, Spike answers in a low voice "You're an angry one, aren't you? Bet, Daddy's so proud." He says with a deep, insinuating laugh.
The comment inflames Xander and he is on Spike again. This time holding him prone on the ground. "If you ever mention, Angel again. I will kill you. Period."
'Oh this is ripe.' Spike thinks to himself. Feeling more like his old self, he enjoys deciding how to milk this particular sore spot some more. "So where is Daddy anyway? Sleeping off all the excitement after killing poor Dru?"
As Xander's eyes strike yellow sparks, Spike decides that he may have pushed the boy. With fists clenched, Xander virtually roars out his answer, "For your information, Angel is dead. Now will you shut up!"
A gasp from the far side of the room draws attention away from the confrontation and toward Buffy who stands in the doorway. "Dead? How can he be dead?" she screams. "He's immortal for God's sake!"
As Buffy crumples to the floor in great anguished sobs, Willow rushes to her. She allows Willow to cradle her. Buffy cries hot tears that drenching them both as they rock. The display on the floor has effectively dismantled the altercation between the two alpha males in the room, neither of which know what to do to amend the situation in front of them. After long moments of indecision, Spike crouches as close to the females as he dares. Xander backs away and back out the door to release his rage out in the coming darkness.
*****************
Xander finds himself heading back into the garden - now bathed in twilight - directly to the spot where Angel stood earlier. He cries out into the night. A horrible sound, even more terrible than Buffy's pitiful cries. He cries out in response to everything that has happened to him - the blood on his hands, the demon animating his body, the guilt and grief plaguing his soul and the relentless aggression he feels. All of it - pours out of him as he cries out into the night. It is a mournful, lonesome sound.
Cold rain starts to fall in sheets from the sky but it does nothing to cease his anguish. It is almost as if the atmosphere has come to parallel his dark mood. How could a regular guy, a good guy at that - fall into this state? If only he could find the strength to continue or to end it. He knows that as long as Willow and Buffy are here - he will be as well. There is really no choice left, he made it long ago.
Damn Angel, damn him for leaving them. For starting all this mess and then bailing. Damn him. Damn Angel for forsaking him, just like Xander's human father.
Xander is too caught up in his own grief and the muffled sounds of Buffy's continuing cries to discern any change in his surroundings. But around him - there is a darkness, a density that is engulfing him. The darkness covers him like a blanket until it is absorbed into his very body. His body soaks up the dark entity entirely as he rages. Finally, l he exhausts himself and passing into a fitful sleep. While he sleeps the dark entity slides from him now taking the shape of a man as if the darkness needed a form by which to shape itself.
****************************
Angel is lying beside him. How the hell? He shouldn't be surprised not after everything else that's happened. The bottom line is - you are not getting off this ride until somebody else deems that it is time.
He'd like a word with that somebody about now. You've gotta wonder if something is powerful enough to screw around with life and death and souls and such - couldn't it just cut to the chase verses screwing around with his life or rather his unlife at this point? Just thinking about it makes whatever alchemy animates him begin to churn again.
The anger seems so much worse since his soul was returned. As if there were a war being fought inside him and the product of the conflict is pure unadulterated anger.
Perhaps not so surprisingly, his sire is having similar feelings as the connection between them hums. It hums with the need to strike, to hunt, and to release the forces and instincts driving them both. Dark eyes connect and spark as rage swamps over whatever humanity is present. The two predators rise, their movements synchronized. They are at home in the dark as it slips over them like silk.
They are now well beyond the human questions of how and why. They are in the eternal present, as is the way of all beasts, prowling without human trappings or device, functioning on pure animal cunning and instinct.
In the brush near the beach, they come upon a vagrant. He is not a good man; he has taken lives himself - innocent lives. It makes the kill more enjoyable - somehow nobler if that can be. And so the night slides on until the demons have had their due. Like the wind, they speed toward their lair on their own power relishing the incredible high that comes with so much adrenaline rich blood. Only then, under the massive shade trees covering the back of the mansion, do they stop and make an effort to speak.
Leaning against a tree, striving for unneeded breath, Angel speaks in reply to the unspoken questions in his childe's eyes. "I had to try. You don't know what it's like - having your mate ripped from your very soul. I had to try to end it." He seems to be talking to himself as much as to Xander.
Xander has never seen Angel so vulnerable, laid so bare. It is as if he stumbled upon his sire's most intimate secret self. He is at once repulsed and drawn forward by this show of weakness. Whether it is the childe/sire bond or some other elusive emotion, he approaches his sire - eyes lowered, shoulders hunched, hands hanging limply at this sides. He brings his cheek to rub against Angel's with an instinctual impulse he has not been aware of until now.
The action offers the vulnerable curve of his neck to his sire. Long, still moments pass as they scent each other, recognizing and acknowledging each other. A low growl erupts from Angel's throat as he turns his face into his childe's proffered flesh. This sign of affection and kinship elicits a feral purr from Alexander.
This - this kinship is what Alexander had been mourning when Angel went out into the sun. He feels a bittersweet happiness at experiencing this encompassing embrace once more. The dance of acceptance and yielding seduces not only the vampire in Alexander but the rejected child within him as well.
Angel's head slides up as he brings his forehead up to touch Alexander's own before their firm, cold lips meet. They draw apart only slightly, maintaining eye contact as they both shift into game face. Their lips clash and cut and mix their powerful blood in an erotic communion. The exchange escalates until their muscular bodies strain together and they rip savagely into the other's neck demonstrating their aggression, their trust and their budding equality. As they attack, they climax together.
Finally, they draw apart. The sky is already turning gray. "If I am to be then he must die." Angel declares flatly.
Xander nods in silent agreement, following Angel as he heads toward the house. He finds a feral smile on his face at the thought of ripping into Spike.
TBC
None of these characters are mine; all credit goes to the writers of BtVS. If you wish to share this work with someone be my guest. This is a sequel to my LOST SOULS fic.
R - that gang's all here!
A note to the faithful - First of all to - maddierw - wow, I'm humbled by your words! Second, to Divamercury, rain, Kristy Marie and spikey666 - hope the sequel is living up to your expectations! Third - to Shahid and Tariq - DADDY'S BACK and hugs to ms8309, Martin, Pearl and Melian7 for tuning in! Mega thank you's to silversonnet, Slayerchick1978, LilBratyChild, Sk8erGrl1, whiteknight, Telcochik and Xanders Guardian Angel - thanks for reading all my fics. Your feedback and investment are an inspiration!
Truly, feedback is helpful especially when you are taking characters into the great AU and still trying to be true to their spirits.
Chapter 9
It is almost twilight when Xander and Willow walk into the main room to find that Spike has wasted no time in making himself at home. The TV is on, the stereo is blaring Elvis Costello and there is a pizza box on the floor. Xander looks cautiously around for the pizza boy. Expecting a body to be lying on the floor as well. But surprise - no dead body just cold pizza. Still, the bastard needs to learn whose home he is in. In the space of a second, Xander is in full game face with Spike pinned against the wall. "Where the hell is Buffy?" he snarls.
Surprisingly, Spike doesn't vamp out or make a move to fight. He stays still and limp in Xander's grasp. Holding up his open palms in a gesture of surrender, he speaks, "I don't know where your girlie is, been askin' myself the same question. Figure she's a big girl, can take care o' herself, that one."
With a warning growl, Xander drops the interloper to the floor and begins to pace in front of him. "I don't know what your game is Spike but you are close to being dust. Now tell me what the hell has been going on with you and Buffy."
Propping himself up against the wall, Spike answers in a low voice "You're an angry one, aren't you? Bet, Daddy's so proud." He says with a deep, insinuating laugh.
The comment inflames Xander and he is on Spike again. This time holding him prone on the ground. "If you ever mention, Angel again. I will kill you. Period."
'Oh this is ripe.' Spike thinks to himself. Feeling more like his old self, he enjoys deciding how to milk this particular sore spot some more. "So where is Daddy anyway? Sleeping off all the excitement after killing poor Dru?"
As Xander's eyes strike yellow sparks, Spike decides that he may have pushed the boy. With fists clenched, Xander virtually roars out his answer, "For your information, Angel is dead. Now will you shut up!"
A gasp from the far side of the room draws attention away from the confrontation and toward Buffy who stands in the doorway. "Dead? How can he be dead?" she screams. "He's immortal for God's sake!"
As Buffy crumples to the floor in great anguished sobs, Willow rushes to her. She allows Willow to cradle her. Buffy cries hot tears that drenching them both as they rock. The display on the floor has effectively dismantled the altercation between the two alpha males in the room, neither of which know what to do to amend the situation in front of them. After long moments of indecision, Spike crouches as close to the females as he dares. Xander backs away and back out the door to release his rage out in the coming darkness.
*****************
Xander finds himself heading back into the garden - now bathed in twilight - directly to the spot where Angel stood earlier. He cries out into the night. A horrible sound, even more terrible than Buffy's pitiful cries. He cries out in response to everything that has happened to him - the blood on his hands, the demon animating his body, the guilt and grief plaguing his soul and the relentless aggression he feels. All of it - pours out of him as he cries out into the night. It is a mournful, lonesome sound.
Cold rain starts to fall in sheets from the sky but it does nothing to cease his anguish. It is almost as if the atmosphere has come to parallel his dark mood. How could a regular guy, a good guy at that - fall into this state? If only he could find the strength to continue or to end it. He knows that as long as Willow and Buffy are here - he will be as well. There is really no choice left, he made it long ago.
Damn Angel, damn him for leaving them. For starting all this mess and then bailing. Damn him. Damn Angel for forsaking him, just like Xander's human father.
Xander is too caught up in his own grief and the muffled sounds of Buffy's continuing cries to discern any change in his surroundings. But around him - there is a darkness, a density that is engulfing him. The darkness covers him like a blanket until it is absorbed into his very body. His body soaks up the dark entity entirely as he rages. Finally, l he exhausts himself and passing into a fitful sleep. While he sleeps the dark entity slides from him now taking the shape of a man as if the darkness needed a form by which to shape itself.
****************************
Angel is lying beside him. How the hell? He shouldn't be surprised not after everything else that's happened. The bottom line is - you are not getting off this ride until somebody else deems that it is time.
He'd like a word with that somebody about now. You've gotta wonder if something is powerful enough to screw around with life and death and souls and such - couldn't it just cut to the chase verses screwing around with his life or rather his unlife at this point? Just thinking about it makes whatever alchemy animates him begin to churn again.
The anger seems so much worse since his soul was returned. As if there were a war being fought inside him and the product of the conflict is pure unadulterated anger.
Perhaps not so surprisingly, his sire is having similar feelings as the connection between them hums. It hums with the need to strike, to hunt, and to release the forces and instincts driving them both. Dark eyes connect and spark as rage swamps over whatever humanity is present. The two predators rise, their movements synchronized. They are at home in the dark as it slips over them like silk.
They are now well beyond the human questions of how and why. They are in the eternal present, as is the way of all beasts, prowling without human trappings or device, functioning on pure animal cunning and instinct.
In the brush near the beach, they come upon a vagrant. He is not a good man; he has taken lives himself - innocent lives. It makes the kill more enjoyable - somehow nobler if that can be. And so the night slides on until the demons have had their due. Like the wind, they speed toward their lair on their own power relishing the incredible high that comes with so much adrenaline rich blood. Only then, under the massive shade trees covering the back of the mansion, do they stop and make an effort to speak.
Leaning against a tree, striving for unneeded breath, Angel speaks in reply to the unspoken questions in his childe's eyes. "I had to try. You don't know what it's like - having your mate ripped from your very soul. I had to try to end it." He seems to be talking to himself as much as to Xander.
Xander has never seen Angel so vulnerable, laid so bare. It is as if he stumbled upon his sire's most intimate secret self. He is at once repulsed and drawn forward by this show of weakness. Whether it is the childe/sire bond or some other elusive emotion, he approaches his sire - eyes lowered, shoulders hunched, hands hanging limply at this sides. He brings his cheek to rub against Angel's with an instinctual impulse he has not been aware of until now.
The action offers the vulnerable curve of his neck to his sire. Long, still moments pass as they scent each other, recognizing and acknowledging each other. A low growl erupts from Angel's throat as he turns his face into his childe's proffered flesh. This sign of affection and kinship elicits a feral purr from Alexander.
This - this kinship is what Alexander had been mourning when Angel went out into the sun. He feels a bittersweet happiness at experiencing this encompassing embrace once more. The dance of acceptance and yielding seduces not only the vampire in Alexander but the rejected child within him as well.
Angel's head slides up as he brings his forehead up to touch Alexander's own before their firm, cold lips meet. They draw apart only slightly, maintaining eye contact as they both shift into game face. Their lips clash and cut and mix their powerful blood in an erotic communion. The exchange escalates until their muscular bodies strain together and they rip savagely into the other's neck demonstrating their aggression, their trust and their budding equality. As they attack, they climax together.
Finally, they draw apart. The sky is already turning gray. "If I am to be then he must die." Angel declares flatly.
Xander nods in silent agreement, following Angel as he heads toward the house. He finds a feral smile on his face at the thought of ripping into Spike.
TBC