--------------------The Bad and the Hopeless Chapter 11
Disclaimer: Hell, I'm not going to go into how many aspects of this fic I don't own.
Author's note: Sorry about the Spike bashing, I'll try not to have too much for you Spike lovers.
When I'm finished this fic, which will be soon hopefully, I'll be doing some B/A fluff and a flashback piece, with Darla,
Spike and Drusilla. Enjoy chapter 11!
Dedication: To Chontell, thanks for the assist. ------------------------
Harmony sat at her desk. It was a boring day at Wolfram & Hart, there was nothing much for her to do. Wesley and Fred had gone to look
for Liam, and Angel would be searching too once the sun had set.
Of course, it was a boring day until a figure with a black jacket over his head whirled through the doors like a hurricane.
He removed the jacket, and Harmony smiled. "Blondie bear!"
Spike did not smile in return. She thought he was sick, he was trembling, he complexion was paler, well, paler than usual, and he looked like he was going to retch.
Harmony looked worried. "Are you sick?" As soon as she said it she realised that was stupid. Ghosts can't be sick.
Spike swayed as he straightened up. "Sick in the head," he said bitterly. "Where's Angel?"
Harmony didn't ask any questions. You didn't, with these weird soulful beings. "He's in his office."
"Right. Thanks." he didn't thank her with any sarcasm, she noticed. He headed towards the elvator, but instead of stepping through, he pressed the button and waited.
Harmony gazed at him as he leaned on the wall for support. "Spike! You're-"
The elevator door opened and he stepped right in, not looking back.
********************
Angel sat in his chair, resting his head on his interlocked fingers as Gunn explained their position.
"No one's seen Liam at all, no one we know. He and Spike didn't go to the Celtic Cross last night."
Just then, Spike himself slid into the office. "Angel..." He gasped an unnecessary breath. "I've done domething terrible."
"Ah, Spike. The man of the moment." commented Lorne from the corner of the room.
Angel ignored him. "What have you done?" he asked quietly, before Gunn could get started on his flurry of official questions.
Spike walked across the room wordlessly. He pressed his palm against the smooth wood of Angel's desk.
"You're corporeal!" Gunn exclaimed.
Angel's eyes widened slightly. "What was the price?" He said, dark eyes searching Spike's mind.
Spike hung his head. Angel knew, already, that he'd had to pay for his body. It was their sodding blood, he supposed.
"Liam."
Angel looked down, as Gunn rose angrily and Lorne looked surprised.
"I guessed so. You'd better tell us where he is."
Spike looked up. His grandsire still had his head close to the desk. He'd expected Angel to go mental.
"Aren't you going to-"
Angel shook his head, standing up. Gunn and Lorne looked like they'd been frozen, but he motioned to them and they sprang to life, muttering about various things they had to do.
When they were alone, Angel walked to a cabinet and picked out a large, shiny knife.
Is he going to use that on me? Spike panicked briefly before Angel tucked it into that mysterious Mary Poppins-esque coat that held everything, and turned to him.
"Tell me where he is. We can't waste time. For all we know, he could be dying."
Spike stared at him. "You're not going to..." he trailed off. The last part was obvious.
"Saving Liam is more important. You better help, now." He tossed Spike an axe.
Spike grasped in his hand, and followed the elder vampire out of the office. The sun was still in the sky, he marvelled that he could once again smell it.
"Um.... I know I'm not in your good books, but how are we going to get there?"
Angel turned sharply. "First of all, I don't know where we're going. Second, haven't you ever heard of the underground caverns of L.A? A hopeless atempt at building a subway in earthquake country."
"Oh. No, I suppose not. That can take you anywhere in LA without seeing the sun?"
Angel nodded. "Most places. But I need to know where we're going."
Spike shifted the axe into his other hand. "Back alley behind Johnson's Hardware, it's just off this street. That's where I..... left him."
His companion registered the details carefully. "We should be going then. No time to lose. They've already almost had twenty four hours. But he's not dead. I would know, if he was."
As they walked swiftly down the stairs and down into the tunnels, Spike spoke. "Thanks for forgiving me. I mean... what I did.... thank you for not holding a grudge."
The other vampire said nothing. After a while, he grinned humorlessly.
"Who said I'd forgiven you?"
************************
Nothing was more scary than being alone, locked up in a room, with a bit of rope wrapped firmly around your neck. Well, to Liam, in his situation, anyway.
He fingered the food they'd left him. Strange, crunchy flat circles that tasted of various flavours and potato. Some bread shaped into a round formation covered with little seeds, and between the two bits of this bread
was a steak of meat, beef probably, that had been scorched in a crude manner. And a drink that had little bubbles, and when he drank had fizzed in his mouth so that he spat it out. He thought that maybe it had gone sour, but he didn't really want to alert the guards.
There were strange little crackers that had perforated edges, and he remembered seeing these at one of his father's parties, to which rich, foreign merchants regularly attended. He split it open easily and a strip of paper fell out. He read it. The script was oddly visible, and did not have the look of ink, so it must have been
done on one of these computers that Fred had tried to school him in. It read: 'Three times', and had a little smiling face next to it.
They'd left him a book, too. History of Ireland. He supposed that was a sick joke, and tried to refrain himself from reading.
Angel would come for him, he decided, and when he did Liam would be ready. They'd given him a chair, and a mattress, in case their preparations for the sacrifice took longer than they thought. He picked up the chair and banged it against the wall, no such luck. The vampires were asleep, so no one would hear him.
He banged again. Nothing, the chair remained whole. Then he remembered the cracker, and thought, for the sake of it, he'd give it another shot. He hit it again, and this time it smashed into little pieces. one of the legs had been broken into a long thin piece with a sharp, pointed tip. This was what he had hoped for. Skilled as he was at whittling,
they had of course left him with no sharp objects, and now, out of plain luck, he had a stake. He waited for what seemed like ages and ages. The dark, small room he was in stank of blood and excrement. he was, in fact, reminded of the old inn in Galway where he had done most of his drinking. He realised sadly that they had not left him any alcohol- maybe he could ask for a bottle as his
last request. He levered himself onto the cold, gritty floor, wincing as the gravelly covering slid across his thinly clothed form like sandpaper. he heard a bolt being lifted from the heavily secured door.
This is it, his whole body screamed. The door swung open, and in stepped two figures.
Angel was covered in blood, goo and various other things he didn't know the name of and didn't care to learn about. His knife was, if it was possible, even more drenched than he was. They hadn't planned on the vampires blowing themselves up, he supposed it was a new, demonic kind of suicide bomber.
Spike was less contaminated. He had been fighting with the cloaked figure in the next room when it happened. they had found a trapdoor leading under the alley, and the vampire gang underneath. They were preparing a ritual, with a wide circle on the floor and a post (he guessed) from which to hang their human sacrifice. It turned out that the mysterious figure was just an ordinary, third-grade sort of vampire.
He had managed to convince the two younger (and stupider) demons that he was some form of dark god. His ambition was to release the demon Aserya, the same entity that he and Angel had saved the world from mere weeks before. As to how he had achieved Spike's corporealisation, he would not say. This he had told Spike as the souled vampire pinned him to the ground with a stake to his chest.
Liam looked up.
"Thank god!" he cried, scrambing up to stand next to his two rescuers.
"Thank the Powers that Be," Spike muttered, but a glare from Angel quieted him. Liam held a rough stake in his left hand. Angel wiped his knife on the wall and cut the rope around Liam's neck, gently.
"Let's go home." Angel said quietly, looking sadly on his battered human counterpart.
******************
After that day, Liam shunned everyone. Gunn was no longer invited into the guest suite for television, and even Fred saw much less of him.
Spike had a good few bruises, and not because of the fight underground. Angel had been as true as his word and after a lengthy row and several blows around the head they had parted and went to their seperate rooms for quiet reflection.
Liam lay on the couch, his mind wandering aimlessly. What sort of existence was this, being snatched away by beast after beast, night after night? He was not ordinary. he wanted to be. he wanted to be Liam O'Connor, of Galway. he didn't want to be Liam The Human, The one That All The Demons Want Because He Is The Key To Some Evil Resurrection. he didn't want to be part of a sentence where all the words had capital letters.
He wanted to go home, somewhere where he was apart, where he didn't feel disconnected. he felt like a piece of jigsaw that got lost in someone else's box. The only part that fit into his life was Winifred, she was the only thing that made sense. he had put it to her many times that she must have been born in the wrong century. She laughed at that.
he knew, though, one thing was clear. He was ready to go back.
-------------------
Aaaaah, the sound of feedback sizzling on a hot summer's day.....
I've started writing Reels, a history fic starring Angelus&co, so this might not be updated as much as I would like. I also have lots of practising for this concert I'm doing, so it will progress slowly. Nearly finished though, I might only get one more chapter out of this.
*~Elionwy~*
Disclaimer: Hell, I'm not going to go into how many aspects of this fic I don't own.
Author's note: Sorry about the Spike bashing, I'll try not to have too much for you Spike lovers.
When I'm finished this fic, which will be soon hopefully, I'll be doing some B/A fluff and a flashback piece, with Darla,
Spike and Drusilla. Enjoy chapter 11!
Dedication: To Chontell, thanks for the assist. ------------------------
Harmony sat at her desk. It was a boring day at Wolfram & Hart, there was nothing much for her to do. Wesley and Fred had gone to look
for Liam, and Angel would be searching too once the sun had set.
Of course, it was a boring day until a figure with a black jacket over his head whirled through the doors like a hurricane.
He removed the jacket, and Harmony smiled. "Blondie bear!"
Spike did not smile in return. She thought he was sick, he was trembling, he complexion was paler, well, paler than usual, and he looked like he was going to retch.
Harmony looked worried. "Are you sick?" As soon as she said it she realised that was stupid. Ghosts can't be sick.
Spike swayed as he straightened up. "Sick in the head," he said bitterly. "Where's Angel?"
Harmony didn't ask any questions. You didn't, with these weird soulful beings. "He's in his office."
"Right. Thanks." he didn't thank her with any sarcasm, she noticed. He headed towards the elvator, but instead of stepping through, he pressed the button and waited.
Harmony gazed at him as he leaned on the wall for support. "Spike! You're-"
The elevator door opened and he stepped right in, not looking back.
********************
Angel sat in his chair, resting his head on his interlocked fingers as Gunn explained their position.
"No one's seen Liam at all, no one we know. He and Spike didn't go to the Celtic Cross last night."
Just then, Spike himself slid into the office. "Angel..." He gasped an unnecessary breath. "I've done domething terrible."
"Ah, Spike. The man of the moment." commented Lorne from the corner of the room.
Angel ignored him. "What have you done?" he asked quietly, before Gunn could get started on his flurry of official questions.
Spike walked across the room wordlessly. He pressed his palm against the smooth wood of Angel's desk.
"You're corporeal!" Gunn exclaimed.
Angel's eyes widened slightly. "What was the price?" He said, dark eyes searching Spike's mind.
Spike hung his head. Angel knew, already, that he'd had to pay for his body. It was their sodding blood, he supposed.
"Liam."
Angel looked down, as Gunn rose angrily and Lorne looked surprised.
"I guessed so. You'd better tell us where he is."
Spike looked up. His grandsire still had his head close to the desk. He'd expected Angel to go mental.
"Aren't you going to-"
Angel shook his head, standing up. Gunn and Lorne looked like they'd been frozen, but he motioned to them and they sprang to life, muttering about various things they had to do.
When they were alone, Angel walked to a cabinet and picked out a large, shiny knife.
Is he going to use that on me? Spike panicked briefly before Angel tucked it into that mysterious Mary Poppins-esque coat that held everything, and turned to him.
"Tell me where he is. We can't waste time. For all we know, he could be dying."
Spike stared at him. "You're not going to..." he trailed off. The last part was obvious.
"Saving Liam is more important. You better help, now." He tossed Spike an axe.
Spike grasped in his hand, and followed the elder vampire out of the office. The sun was still in the sky, he marvelled that he could once again smell it.
"Um.... I know I'm not in your good books, but how are we going to get there?"
Angel turned sharply. "First of all, I don't know where we're going. Second, haven't you ever heard of the underground caverns of L.A? A hopeless atempt at building a subway in earthquake country."
"Oh. No, I suppose not. That can take you anywhere in LA without seeing the sun?"
Angel nodded. "Most places. But I need to know where we're going."
Spike shifted the axe into his other hand. "Back alley behind Johnson's Hardware, it's just off this street. That's where I..... left him."
His companion registered the details carefully. "We should be going then. No time to lose. They've already almost had twenty four hours. But he's not dead. I would know, if he was."
As they walked swiftly down the stairs and down into the tunnels, Spike spoke. "Thanks for forgiving me. I mean... what I did.... thank you for not holding a grudge."
The other vampire said nothing. After a while, he grinned humorlessly.
"Who said I'd forgiven you?"
************************
Nothing was more scary than being alone, locked up in a room, with a bit of rope wrapped firmly around your neck. Well, to Liam, in his situation, anyway.
He fingered the food they'd left him. Strange, crunchy flat circles that tasted of various flavours and potato. Some bread shaped into a round formation covered with little seeds, and between the two bits of this bread
was a steak of meat, beef probably, that had been scorched in a crude manner. And a drink that had little bubbles, and when he drank had fizzed in his mouth so that he spat it out. He thought that maybe it had gone sour, but he didn't really want to alert the guards.
There were strange little crackers that had perforated edges, and he remembered seeing these at one of his father's parties, to which rich, foreign merchants regularly attended. He split it open easily and a strip of paper fell out. He read it. The script was oddly visible, and did not have the look of ink, so it must have been
done on one of these computers that Fred had tried to school him in. It read: 'Three times', and had a little smiling face next to it.
They'd left him a book, too. History of Ireland. He supposed that was a sick joke, and tried to refrain himself from reading.
Angel would come for him, he decided, and when he did Liam would be ready. They'd given him a chair, and a mattress, in case their preparations for the sacrifice took longer than they thought. He picked up the chair and banged it against the wall, no such luck. The vampires were asleep, so no one would hear him.
He banged again. Nothing, the chair remained whole. Then he remembered the cracker, and thought, for the sake of it, he'd give it another shot. He hit it again, and this time it smashed into little pieces. one of the legs had been broken into a long thin piece with a sharp, pointed tip. This was what he had hoped for. Skilled as he was at whittling,
they had of course left him with no sharp objects, and now, out of plain luck, he had a stake. He waited for what seemed like ages and ages. The dark, small room he was in stank of blood and excrement. he was, in fact, reminded of the old inn in Galway where he had done most of his drinking. He realised sadly that they had not left him any alcohol- maybe he could ask for a bottle as his
last request. He levered himself onto the cold, gritty floor, wincing as the gravelly covering slid across his thinly clothed form like sandpaper. he heard a bolt being lifted from the heavily secured door.
This is it, his whole body screamed. The door swung open, and in stepped two figures.
Angel was covered in blood, goo and various other things he didn't know the name of and didn't care to learn about. His knife was, if it was possible, even more drenched than he was. They hadn't planned on the vampires blowing themselves up, he supposed it was a new, demonic kind of suicide bomber.
Spike was less contaminated. He had been fighting with the cloaked figure in the next room when it happened. they had found a trapdoor leading under the alley, and the vampire gang underneath. They were preparing a ritual, with a wide circle on the floor and a post (he guessed) from which to hang their human sacrifice. It turned out that the mysterious figure was just an ordinary, third-grade sort of vampire.
He had managed to convince the two younger (and stupider) demons that he was some form of dark god. His ambition was to release the demon Aserya, the same entity that he and Angel had saved the world from mere weeks before. As to how he had achieved Spike's corporealisation, he would not say. This he had told Spike as the souled vampire pinned him to the ground with a stake to his chest.
Liam looked up.
"Thank god!" he cried, scrambing up to stand next to his two rescuers.
"Thank the Powers that Be," Spike muttered, but a glare from Angel quieted him. Liam held a rough stake in his left hand. Angel wiped his knife on the wall and cut the rope around Liam's neck, gently.
"Let's go home." Angel said quietly, looking sadly on his battered human counterpart.
******************
After that day, Liam shunned everyone. Gunn was no longer invited into the guest suite for television, and even Fred saw much less of him.
Spike had a good few bruises, and not because of the fight underground. Angel had been as true as his word and after a lengthy row and several blows around the head they had parted and went to their seperate rooms for quiet reflection.
Liam lay on the couch, his mind wandering aimlessly. What sort of existence was this, being snatched away by beast after beast, night after night? He was not ordinary. he wanted to be. he wanted to be Liam O'Connor, of Galway. he didn't want to be Liam The Human, The one That All The Demons Want Because He Is The Key To Some Evil Resurrection. he didn't want to be part of a sentence where all the words had capital letters.
He wanted to go home, somewhere where he was apart, where he didn't feel disconnected. he felt like a piece of jigsaw that got lost in someone else's box. The only part that fit into his life was Winifred, she was the only thing that made sense. he had put it to her many times that she must have been born in the wrong century. She laughed at that.
he knew, though, one thing was clear. He was ready to go back.
-------------------
Aaaaah, the sound of feedback sizzling on a hot summer's day.....
I've started writing Reels, a history fic starring Angelus&co, so this might not be updated as much as I would like. I also have lots of practising for this concert I'm doing, so it will progress slowly. Nearly finished though, I might only get one more chapter out of this.
*~Elionwy~*