So I guess this fit the day at least somewhat*g*
The fact that this contains B/A, any kind of B/A ought to tell you that.
Don't worry guys, I haven't switched ships, this starts out as B/A, with addition of dark spangel and will end with S/B. I'm just hoping that at least some of you will like it.
Title: Clipped Wings
Rating: R (for implied violence and rape)
Pairings: starts out as B/A, includes very dark present time spangel and ends up B/S
Summary: AU s5, Angel has everything he wants, power, prestige, Buffy ... so why isn't it enough?
Notes: This was an experiment at using the fade to black. Small warning, Angel is very nasty in this one.
Angel lay back, his head sinking deeply into the soft pillow. The room was dark and quiet. He barely touched the hand of the blonde lying next to him before rolling over and getting out of the bed.
His feet froze as they touched the cold floor. Quickly searching out his slippers, he got up to get his chamber robe.
Buffy was still fully asleep. He couldn't help looking at her for a few more seconds, watching her breathe as she slept, his sweet darling girl. There was a sad glimpse on her face; was she dreaming of Spike again? It didn't matter, she'd forget all about the little pest soon enough.
He took a comb to his hair and checked if she was still sleeping before he left the room. The halls of the building were almost unnaturally quiet. It was almost comforting this silence, it made the huge building almost cathedral like in its emptiness.
It wasn't even a problem that he couldn't take the elevator for this, which would be too dangerous of course, so he just enjoyed the nice walk, down to the lower levels in the basement. The guards greeted him as he arrived. He checked the necessary precautions, had to make sure his prize was safe after all.
The room was white and sterile, easy to clean, containing nothing but a small cot, a table, a chair, a drain in the floor, and one vampire currently huddled in the back corner of the room, desperate to appear invisible.
Angel accepted the towel that one of the guards gave him, wiping off both sweat and blood.
He didn't even bother to look back, from the lack of sound Spike was probably still lying on the cot. He could hear a soft whimper coming from the room.
"Don't be such a cry baby Spike. You know, that's why Buffy could never love you. You're just too damn soft."
There was no response, but then, the mute spell that Angel had the guards put on Spike each time he felt a need for him tended to work its charm. That spell was probably the best use of anything that Wolfram and Hart had given him. It didn't stop the small noises, whimpers, sobs, screams, but the words, those were muted instantly.
"She's doing fine by the way. I had her writhing under me, but then, you already know that."
He didn't bother to pretend to smile, not like Spike could see it, or would want to see it.
No need to tell the damn boy that she fell asleep crying Spike's name. She'd get over it.
All he had to do was give her time. But damn it, he'd given her months already. You'd think that she'd be happy now. They were together, he could give her all she wanted ... and yet...
Maybe he wasn't quite ready to leave just yet. He turned around, staring back through the glass into the white room. Spike was rolled up on the cot, desperate to hide himself.
"Shhhhh my boy. Don't worry; I won't forget all about you just because the woman that gives you wet dreams is getting ready to spend the rest of her life with me."
Spike shouted something, but the spell locked his words. Still, the boy wasn't supposed to talk and he should know better by now. Angel held out his hand and the guard returned the key card.
Spike jumped off the bed and tried to flee into the walls as soon as the glass wall started opening. Silly boy. There was no escape. Not now, not ever.
Angel kneeled down next to Spike's trembling body. His fingers touched Spike's cheek as gentle as if they were brushing over silk, grabbing Spikes hair and pulling his head upwards.
"See silly boy? That's why you need to stay here. If you can't even follow a simple instruction, then how could you ever be expected to handle life outside."
The doors closed again
Buffy left the apartment before Angel could return. Better to go out and patrol on her own, before he could ask her not to.
See, it wasn't that Angel didn't want her to patrol, he just worried for her, wanted to keep her safe. It was stupid, to be annoyed just cause someone loved you enough to want to protect you. She just hated the coddling.
She was the slayer, eight years and still counting. It's not like she'd needed a soldier guard to back her up just to go hunt some vamps. LA might not be Sunnydale. But she was still the Slayer, well a slayer at least.
She loved the fresh, though heavy with the pollution, air that she found outside. Even with all the darkness in LA, it still felt lighter on her shoulders, than the constant sense of evil coming from the Wolfram and Hart office building. A weight lifted from her shoulders and she became a hunter again.
It wasn't hard to attract prey. Look innocent, give a few wide open puppy eyes look that begged for someone to help her and before she knew it, she had a couple of vampires following her into the very next dark alley she could find.
She couldn't help but almost pity the poor demons, thinking they were out to get an easy meal. The way they talked while they followed her, she wondered how long, or better put, short, it had been since they died. It didn't matter, all too soon they were dust and she was brushing off her hands as she left the alley. Looking for new prey, hoping that the next one wouldn't have those deep blue eyes that followed her every move and made her doubt whenever she thrust in her stake.
Angel kissed Buffy, holding back reproaches as she'd once again left him to worry about her. For some reason, with every touch of her he kept thinking of Cordy, wondering what Cordy would have done. How Cordy would have put him in his place. Buffy just looked at him and sat down on his chair. She seemed oddly both out of place and right where she belonged.
He left her chattering with Harmony, convinced by now that Buffy wouldn't stake Harm, as long as she passed her daily blood tests and Angel was certain that Harmony had long forgotten all about Spike. The girl was as ditzy as a vampire as she'd been a human. Why would she care when she had her job, her nice home and that young fledgling over from civil settlements to buy her little unicorns and diamonds?
He had everything he ever wanted. Prestige, power, Buffy… the only thing he lacked was Connor and at least he knew the boy was doing well at school. Well with his new parents and even with the new girlfriend.
So why wasn't he happier – not too happy, but content? Considering how well everything was going, he should be, shouldn't he?
The guards jumped up as he came down the stairs.
"Where is he?" he looked at the empty white room in front of him.
"In the entertainment room sir. You authorized…"
Angel growled as he remembered. Give the bastard some time off every once and a while. It's not like he was inhuman or anything and for all the good the little pest did him, he did deserve some time off. Occasionally.
"Should I go get him sir?"
So eager to please him.
"No, I want to see what he's doing first."
He followed the hallway till he entered the room behind the mirror, looking through the glass and at the vampire who sat there on the ground in front of the television. It wasn't a large room, just another cell covered with carpets; a couple of pillows were settled across the room. There was a widescreen TV, a home entertainment centre , a play station – everything a greedy little vampire could possibly want.
Spike didn't move away from the television. He sat hugging his legs, looking blankly at the screen. As if the thing was no more than background noise and what was on it was as important as the fibres of the monochrome carpet.
So ungrateful, and after all the effort Angel's people had done to make him feel at home in this room.
"Should we get him ready sir?"
Angel ignored his prattle.
Spike looked so small, dressed in yellow trapdoor PJ's that were covered with a Pikachu print..
He seemed almost a child, and Angel could see that the flap at the back of the PJ let go as he moved an inch too much. The boy closed it of course, embarrassed by it, as he was supposed to. A child's picture book lay on the ground against the wall. Spike had been throwing stuff again.
Angel regretted it, but if Spike broke his TV one more time, he wouldn't give him a new one. Not until he'd earned it. Not that he minded having Spike earn what he got. It was time the boy learned that he couldn't just take what he wanted and sod all the rest. Spike needed to earn his living, and who better to teach him that than his sire.
He put his hand on the two way mirror, wondering if Spike would sense he was here or not. Somehow he doubted there was any way that Spike could have missed it. The boy finally lifted his head, looking back at him for no more than a second.
Angel opened the door and entered the room. Spike stayed put. Good so far.
"Are you hungry boy?"
Spike looked at him, anger so clearly in those eyes. Yet he didn't try to speak. He'd learned his lesson about that, for now.
Spike knew what to do. He also knew not to look at him afterwards. And only then did Angel offer the boy his neck, letting the weaker vampire drink from him. Just a taste, not too much. Can't have the boy regain too much of his strength.
"See boy, you need me. Without me, who do you think is going to bother keeping a mongrel like you fed? Not like anyone cares for a useless waste like you."
Spike shivered under his touch. Angel's hand moved to the backflap, opening it, fingers sliding over the exposed skin, in between...
Spike's eyes looked dead. He still fought, he always did. But it was a mechanical response, without thought and Angel forgive him for it. He was forgiving and caring after all.
“Don't worry Willy, you still look pretty and I'm not planning to get rid of you yet."