Spike POV
Should I be freaked?
I came here by my own accord. To tell my poof of a Sire to stop this. To stay out of my unlife and away from me for good. To stop appearing in my dreams and taunting me. To make him stop making me think these things that burn my head and scald my mind. I can't do this anymore and he shouldn't be doing it anyway so it has to stop.
It has to be him doing it because I never wanted it. I mean it wasn't bad when we were running together but not now. I don't want these thoughts, these visions, and these pictures of him anymore. It's not like he even likes me. I mean I know he wouldn't kill me; it's hard to when you're a sire. But he should have done something. Anything just not this. It's wrong, really wrong.
If it's wrong then why does it feel so right?
Why was he even here? I mean this turned out nothing like I planned. I wanted to appear maybe trash his place, find his room, cry into his bed for a bit, before drying my eyes and going home. Back to rotten old Sunnyhell. What do I get? A face full of him watching me and making it crystal clear that he hates me more than ever. He always used to love playing mind games with me. this is his worst one. Completely confuses the hell out of me and I haven't been able to figure out the right way to make him stop.
Him. I can't even say his name. God I'm pathetic. Can't even say the name of my own sire for fear. Fear that if I do then he might go again. Could you imagine it? Two master vampire like us, one with a soul, and the other with more emotions than he had when he was human. It's hard being me. I don't know which way to turn sometimes. It's like I'm surrounded by people that are going to hurt me and I can't stop going back. I've always needed someone to hurt me. Dru, Darla, Buffy, Scoobies and Him. See? Still can't say it.
He shouldn't be like this. Looking after me. I shouldn't be like this either. I'm an emotional wreck. I come here with the plan to go within a day. Come here for one night, leave a note do the other things I've already said, and then piss off again. I always do. If I stay somewhere too long then I keep wanting to come back. It's a thing I do, I settle down. People always think of me as a vicious killer that made a hobby of going round Europe killing. Yeah I did, but I was made to move. If I'd had my way, we'd have stayed in London and drained it dry. Of course I was a fledgling so my opinion never mattered.
I can't believe I'm laying here. Lying on his bed with him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't meant to be here. He wasn't meant to clean me and dry me and clothe me in his clothes because mine were wet. He isn't supposed to be like this. I'm not meant to be like this. We're lying here together. He's purring and I'm sucking my thumb. Notice how I don't care admitting it when only he's here. He always thought I was cute. I thought it was safe.
We always used to lie like this when we were together. All that time ago before the soul. We would lie down and talk. If we didn't talk we would sleep. If we didn't sleep we'd be hunting and wouldn't be near a bed anyway. Due to popular belief everyone thinks Dru sired me. Lie. He sired me. He sired me and I had him and he had me for five years before Darla turned up with Dru in tow. She had broken up with him for a bit and Dru had been a perfect shopping partner. So he went and found himself a small English idiot that he could mould into shape. Enter me.
He used to read to me. I was crap at English when I was a kid and hadn't really bothered to learn it that well. Plus school was crap in those days anyway. I couldn't really read that well and he said he'd teach me. He did. You all thought I was poet when I was human didn't you? I was, but now you know why I was bloody awful. My handwriting was absolute bollocks as well. Looked like a spider has lost a leg and dragged itself across the page. He taught me that as well. Liam was an arse; my sire was one of the most educated men on the planet. And he taught me everything he knew just to see me smile.
It began with us lying like this on his bed. He was playing with my hair and I was sucking my thumb. Then he got out a book and began reading to me. It was an old volume of some thing or other. I can't remember now, but he read it to me. I rested my head on his chest whilst looking at the pages. He'd follow the line with his finger and point out which word he was reading so I could hear every syllable sounded out. He'd read a few pages then ask me to read a paragraph. His finger would go along the page and I'd follow and sound out the words. When I got stuck he'd help and slowly go through it with me. I loved every second of it.
It only took me a year to grasp every word in the English dictionary. That's when we began writing. We'd sit at a desk and he'd show me how to hold a pen correctly. It took about three weeks just to get my grip right, but he never yelled once. Just asked if I could remember and would hold the pen with me when I couldn't. It was harder for him because I'm left handed, but he soon got it. We'd sit for a while and make sure I could write a passage and read it back to him. Then we'd read for a bit before going back to writing. Soon I could write every word in the English dictionary and read it back to him. My writing soon matched his in practically every way.
We're still lying here. I'm sill sucking my thumb, he's still purring. I don't want to move because I'll ruin the moment. I know he's awake, he always is. He doesn't know I am though. If this is so wrong then why aren't either of us moving? We're in his bed, he's holding me like he always used to, I'm playing the poor little fledgling and he's playing the caring sire. We're so used to this it's easy to forget he hates me. I know he hates me, but I wonder if he knows how much I love him. Not as a childe, not as a son, not as a mindless fledge, as William, as Spike, as me. When he left I didn't want to be called William anymore. That's what he called me. No one else deserved to say that name.
We really shouldn't be doing this. What if someone comes in? What if he realises I'm awake. What if he suddenly remembers who I am? What if he kicks me out? What if he leaves me again? What if I'm alone? I don't think I could handle that. I've never been alone. I always had someone. Him, Dru, the Slayer and her minions...I've never been alone. I hope he doesn't move.
But he has now. He's moving and I've tensed up. If he's going to hit me then I might as well be prepared. He's going to shove me off the bed, beat me into a bloody mess then throw me into the street so I can't move and have to wait for the sun to get me. Lovely way top end your unlife. Well come on then. Don't make me wait; let's get it over and done with. He's shifted slightly and I haven't moved. Hopefully if I stay like this he'll think I'm too cute to kill. I hope.
Nothing. He's still shifting and he's lifted me slightly. Okay be cute. He's settled again and I'm a little further up his chest now, closer to his face. His arm is holding me and up and the other is reaching across to stroke my face. And I'm still sucking my thumb. I'm cute, I'm asleep, and I'm not going to give the game away. I can ignore the stroking fingers. I can pretend not to feel the breath on my face. I can hide form the eyes that I can feel watching me.
It was his tongue that finally did me in.
Not in the way you're thinking. He's not kissing me, god why would he do that? He's cleaning me. And still purring. Oh god he's cleaning me. He's only done this when I was scared out of my mind before. He's licking my forehead and purring like a bleedin cat. Oh god I love this. His tongue is moist but not wet. He's licking across my skin and over my eyelids. He's so gentle. I never want this to stop. The feel of his tongue stroking my cheeks and picking up all of the scent there so that only his is left. I can smell him all over me and I love it. His tongue is caressing my chin and he's purring. Oh god I feel so...I don't know but it's good. If he ever stops I'll kill him. I feel one of his hands coming to take my thumb from my mouth so he can continue on his way. I easily let my hand move away to rest on his chest while he carries on. Moving gently across my lips and licking them gently. I don't want to move, if I do he'll know I'm awake and he'll kill me. He's moving across now and to reach the other side he's rolling gently on top of me. He's not that heavy or maybe I'm too focused on his tongue to care. Oh god the tip of his tongue is tickling my earlobe now and it's taking all my strength not to wriggle from the sensations it's causing me. He's kneeling over me now and I can't move. I'm scared he'll notice and stop.
Am I pathetic? Is it weak to want your sire, your father, and your god to show you some attention? Because I'm not moving, right now I'm getting practically all his attention and then some. He's moving down to my neck and I thank god I'm not wearing my tight tee or he wouldn't be able to reach that crease in my skin right there. Where he is now. Between my neck and my chest and he's lapping at my skin now. Stroking it with that powerful muscle and making me forget every word he ever taught me. God I love this. Please never stop. I could lie like this forever and a day. Moving round now, slipping his hands to hold my chin and stroke my face as he carries on. Okay, would it be wrong to say this is better than sex? 'Coz right now, that's what I'm thinking. I'm not hard or anything, nor's he, but this is intimate. This is as close as we've ever got and I never want him to stop. God never stop.
But he does and I've just made a pathetic mew like a kitten taken from its mother's teat. I should stop this. Go home now and stake myself. I came to say stop it and I don't want him to. He's purring still and laid back to pull me until I'm practically lying on top of him. Do I care? No. Should I? Possibly. But I don't so sod off. I'm resting my head on his broad chest and I can hear the rumble of his purrs rattling that non-beating heart. It's a weird sensation but I like it. My hands have somehow managed to entangle their digits into his shirt and I'm clinging to him like my life depends on it. I feel like it does, it really does.
This is so wrong feeling like this with him right here. But I don't care. He's knows I'm awake; I know I'm awake. Should really say something shouldn't I? Okay, here goes. Excuse me if my voice trembles, but I'm sure you'll understand if I say that my nerves are a wreck.
"Angelus?"
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Don't ask. Just...don't ask. Review instead.
Should I be freaked?
I came here by my own accord. To tell my poof of a Sire to stop this. To stay out of my unlife and away from me for good. To stop appearing in my dreams and taunting me. To make him stop making me think these things that burn my head and scald my mind. I can't do this anymore and he shouldn't be doing it anyway so it has to stop.
It has to be him doing it because I never wanted it. I mean it wasn't bad when we were running together but not now. I don't want these thoughts, these visions, and these pictures of him anymore. It's not like he even likes me. I mean I know he wouldn't kill me; it's hard to when you're a sire. But he should have done something. Anything just not this. It's wrong, really wrong.
If it's wrong then why does it feel so right?
Why was he even here? I mean this turned out nothing like I planned. I wanted to appear maybe trash his place, find his room, cry into his bed for a bit, before drying my eyes and going home. Back to rotten old Sunnyhell. What do I get? A face full of him watching me and making it crystal clear that he hates me more than ever. He always used to love playing mind games with me. this is his worst one. Completely confuses the hell out of me and I haven't been able to figure out the right way to make him stop.
Him. I can't even say his name. God I'm pathetic. Can't even say the name of my own sire for fear. Fear that if I do then he might go again. Could you imagine it? Two master vampire like us, one with a soul, and the other with more emotions than he had when he was human. It's hard being me. I don't know which way to turn sometimes. It's like I'm surrounded by people that are going to hurt me and I can't stop going back. I've always needed someone to hurt me. Dru, Darla, Buffy, Scoobies and Him. See? Still can't say it.
He shouldn't be like this. Looking after me. I shouldn't be like this either. I'm an emotional wreck. I come here with the plan to go within a day. Come here for one night, leave a note do the other things I've already said, and then piss off again. I always do. If I stay somewhere too long then I keep wanting to come back. It's a thing I do, I settle down. People always think of me as a vicious killer that made a hobby of going round Europe killing. Yeah I did, but I was made to move. If I'd had my way, we'd have stayed in London and drained it dry. Of course I was a fledgling so my opinion never mattered.
I can't believe I'm laying here. Lying on his bed with him. This wasn't supposed to happen. He wasn't meant to be here. He wasn't meant to clean me and dry me and clothe me in his clothes because mine were wet. He isn't supposed to be like this. I'm not meant to be like this. We're lying here together. He's purring and I'm sucking my thumb. Notice how I don't care admitting it when only he's here. He always thought I was cute. I thought it was safe.
We always used to lie like this when we were together. All that time ago before the soul. We would lie down and talk. If we didn't talk we would sleep. If we didn't sleep we'd be hunting and wouldn't be near a bed anyway. Due to popular belief everyone thinks Dru sired me. Lie. He sired me. He sired me and I had him and he had me for five years before Darla turned up with Dru in tow. She had broken up with him for a bit and Dru had been a perfect shopping partner. So he went and found himself a small English idiot that he could mould into shape. Enter me.
He used to read to me. I was crap at English when I was a kid and hadn't really bothered to learn it that well. Plus school was crap in those days anyway. I couldn't really read that well and he said he'd teach me. He did. You all thought I was poet when I was human didn't you? I was, but now you know why I was bloody awful. My handwriting was absolute bollocks as well. Looked like a spider has lost a leg and dragged itself across the page. He taught me that as well. Liam was an arse; my sire was one of the most educated men on the planet. And he taught me everything he knew just to see me smile.
It began with us lying like this on his bed. He was playing with my hair and I was sucking my thumb. Then he got out a book and began reading to me. It was an old volume of some thing or other. I can't remember now, but he read it to me. I rested my head on his chest whilst looking at the pages. He'd follow the line with his finger and point out which word he was reading so I could hear every syllable sounded out. He'd read a few pages then ask me to read a paragraph. His finger would go along the page and I'd follow and sound out the words. When I got stuck he'd help and slowly go through it with me. I loved every second of it.
It only took me a year to grasp every word in the English dictionary. That's when we began writing. We'd sit at a desk and he'd show me how to hold a pen correctly. It took about three weeks just to get my grip right, but he never yelled once. Just asked if I could remember and would hold the pen with me when I couldn't. It was harder for him because I'm left handed, but he soon got it. We'd sit for a while and make sure I could write a passage and read it back to him. Then we'd read for a bit before going back to writing. Soon I could write every word in the English dictionary and read it back to him. My writing soon matched his in practically every way.
We're still lying here. I'm sill sucking my thumb, he's still purring. I don't want to move because I'll ruin the moment. I know he's awake, he always is. He doesn't know I am though. If this is so wrong then why aren't either of us moving? We're in his bed, he's holding me like he always used to, I'm playing the poor little fledgling and he's playing the caring sire. We're so used to this it's easy to forget he hates me. I know he hates me, but I wonder if he knows how much I love him. Not as a childe, not as a son, not as a mindless fledge, as William, as Spike, as me. When he left I didn't want to be called William anymore. That's what he called me. No one else deserved to say that name.
We really shouldn't be doing this. What if someone comes in? What if he realises I'm awake. What if he suddenly remembers who I am? What if he kicks me out? What if he leaves me again? What if I'm alone? I don't think I could handle that. I've never been alone. I always had someone. Him, Dru, the Slayer and her minions...I've never been alone. I hope he doesn't move.
But he has now. He's moving and I've tensed up. If he's going to hit me then I might as well be prepared. He's going to shove me off the bed, beat me into a bloody mess then throw me into the street so I can't move and have to wait for the sun to get me. Lovely way top end your unlife. Well come on then. Don't make me wait; let's get it over and done with. He's shifted slightly and I haven't moved. Hopefully if I stay like this he'll think I'm too cute to kill. I hope.
Nothing. He's still shifting and he's lifted me slightly. Okay be cute. He's settled again and I'm a little further up his chest now, closer to his face. His arm is holding me and up and the other is reaching across to stroke my face. And I'm still sucking my thumb. I'm cute, I'm asleep, and I'm not going to give the game away. I can ignore the stroking fingers. I can pretend not to feel the breath on my face. I can hide form the eyes that I can feel watching me.
It was his tongue that finally did me in.
Not in the way you're thinking. He's not kissing me, god why would he do that? He's cleaning me. And still purring. Oh god he's cleaning me. He's only done this when I was scared out of my mind before. He's licking my forehead and purring like a bleedin cat. Oh god I love this. His tongue is moist but not wet. He's licking across my skin and over my eyelids. He's so gentle. I never want this to stop. The feel of his tongue stroking my cheeks and picking up all of the scent there so that only his is left. I can smell him all over me and I love it. His tongue is caressing my chin and he's purring. Oh god I feel so...I don't know but it's good. If he ever stops I'll kill him. I feel one of his hands coming to take my thumb from my mouth so he can continue on his way. I easily let my hand move away to rest on his chest while he carries on. Moving gently across my lips and licking them gently. I don't want to move, if I do he'll know I'm awake and he'll kill me. He's moving across now and to reach the other side he's rolling gently on top of me. He's not that heavy or maybe I'm too focused on his tongue to care. Oh god the tip of his tongue is tickling my earlobe now and it's taking all my strength not to wriggle from the sensations it's causing me. He's kneeling over me now and I can't move. I'm scared he'll notice and stop.
Am I pathetic? Is it weak to want your sire, your father, and your god to show you some attention? Because I'm not moving, right now I'm getting practically all his attention and then some. He's moving down to my neck and I thank god I'm not wearing my tight tee or he wouldn't be able to reach that crease in my skin right there. Where he is now. Between my neck and my chest and he's lapping at my skin now. Stroking it with that powerful muscle and making me forget every word he ever taught me. God I love this. Please never stop. I could lie like this forever and a day. Moving round now, slipping his hands to hold my chin and stroke my face as he carries on. Okay, would it be wrong to say this is better than sex? 'Coz right now, that's what I'm thinking. I'm not hard or anything, nor's he, but this is intimate. This is as close as we've ever got and I never want him to stop. God never stop.
But he does and I've just made a pathetic mew like a kitten taken from its mother's teat. I should stop this. Go home now and stake myself. I came to say stop it and I don't want him to. He's purring still and laid back to pull me until I'm practically lying on top of him. Do I care? No. Should I? Possibly. But I don't so sod off. I'm resting my head on his broad chest and I can hear the rumble of his purrs rattling that non-beating heart. It's a weird sensation but I like it. My hands have somehow managed to entangle their digits into his shirt and I'm clinging to him like my life depends on it. I feel like it does, it really does.
This is so wrong feeling like this with him right here. But I don't care. He's knows I'm awake; I know I'm awake. Should really say something shouldn't I? Okay, here goes. Excuse me if my voice trembles, but I'm sure you'll understand if I say that my nerves are a wreck.
"Angelus?"
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Don't ask. Just...don't ask. Review instead.