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 froze as Buffy told him she couldn't be with him any longer. That it wasn't him, it was her, she just wasn't ready for a relationship right now, she...He wanted to hit her, he wanted to tear into Spike and make him pay for this, for turning her against him. Instead he just stood there, locked in place and unable to say a word.
Buffy stopped talking, twitching where she stood and about to turn around when the alarms rang through the hall.
Angel turned around, it couldn't be. He ran back to the cells, staring with wide open eyes as he realized that the white room was empty. Nothing remained there of Spike but his blood. He kneeled down, trying to find a trace when he could hear a loud gasp coming from behind him.
He didn't even bother to look at Buffy. She, on the other hand, couldn't close her eyes, staring at the blood, the cell, the tools of his trade hanging right outside of the cell. Her eyes were filled with horror when she finally turned back to him, seemingly coming to a conclusion.
A faulty one, but still.
He started laughing at the absurdity of it all. It wasn't like he'd harmed anyone who mattered, just Spike. and hey, who cared about that annoyance?
"I haven't gone evil."
He couldn't believe that she'd even think so.
She took a step back.
"Buffy we can talk about this."
"Stay away from me."
"Buffy!" He yelled after her as she slammed the gate of the cell in his face. He tried to open the door, finally realizing he'd dropped his keycard on the floor outside.
Buffy started throwing open the other doors. Looking for something, anything. He screamed at her again as he saw she'd gotten to the entertainment room.
She wouldn't listen.
The room was cushioned, not just with carpets, but with pillows covering both walls and floor. Like the inside of a padded cell. Images of a white room, of moments of fake clarity in an insane mess of two worlds flashed through her mind. Remembering the visions that poison had given her, mixed with real memories and fears.
At first it looked remarkably innocent, except for the heavy locks on the door but when she looked further she couldn't help but shiver.
There were toys spread out on the floor, like a child's playthings left behind when the child was taken out of the room. A rattler, a picture book, soft plastic building blocks but more disgustingly was something she recognized from the games she and Spike used to play. It was something she'd bought, shy and blushing, wanting to try it out and since Spike seemed to be up for almost anything.
It had been one of the only things that Spike had ever refused to use.
He hadn't even wanted to consider it, when she pressed the subject all he'd say was that it brought up memories, the bad kind.
She picked up the hood – no eyeholes, no mouthpiece… there was still a trace of wetness near where the eyes would have been. Whomever had been here ...
Buffy looked around, staring at the television. She kicked it down, getting some enjoyment out of watching it fall, taking an absurd kind of satisfaction in the shattering glass as it fell.
It was only then that she turned around enough to notice the pictures on the wall. Pictures that....
A man, dressed in some kind of childish PJ's, held over another man's thighs, the backflap open, while something – a thermometer – was pushed in between his cheeks. She couldn't see either of the faces, and part of her was grateful for that. It seemed...
She stared at the second picture, a man lying on the floor, she could barely see honeyblond hair. Sleeping, all rolled up as if desperate to protect itself.
The third, the man, vampire was drinking from another's chest. His face hidden, his body on top of the other's – he was suckling blood like a baby would at it's mother's teat.
She knew, it couldn't, couldn't be, could... not....
And she stared at the last picture of Spike, sitting on his knees, his mouth at Angel's crotch while he suckled Angel's cock like a cold bottle of milk.
When she turned around, Angel stood in the doorway. And here she was without a stake.
Spike crawled up the stairs, falling down once he hit the elevator. He sank down against the walls, hugging his legs. Soft elevator music started playing. He'd wanted to trust his sire, but Angel had betrayed him. He wanted to trust Buffy, to believe she'd come and save him again.
He forced himself up when the elevator stopped, ready to fight, even if only to be killed before he fell back into Angel's hands. The door opened, he stared straight into Harmony's face.
"Blondiebear? You're back."
She hugged him, and he didn't have the strength to break free.