Yep, it got me on a nasty Spike/Giles fix...
Now the hard part will be to keep Giles in char, while at the same time making him scary and dangerous. (more ripper like) Please feel free to tell me when I'm going too far.
Rating: NC17 slash (non con, rape, torture, sub/dom in a bad way, bla bla bla)
Summary: The only thing worse than hate, indifference
Spike fought the shackles even as he could feel his host enter the house. His oh so generous host, who'd let him live when the slayer thought it was better to kill him. He should have let her, it'd have been more merciful.
He tugged once more, trying to get free from the bathtub, anything to escape. Passions was still playing on the background. He didn't care, not now when he had to get free.
The chains were too strong. He tore, grabbed the chains and the metal, anything to get loose. But both had been enchanted to hold demons much stronger than his.
His host came in.
Spike froze and stared up at the watcher who was already taking off his vest. Untying his shirt. The vampire stared at the human in abject fear.
The vest went over a chair in the corner. Then the glasses softly tucked in the front pocket. Spike tried to get free once more. This wasn't what he'd gone to the Slayer for. White hats were supposed to be above things like buggering the prisoner of war, weren't they? The shirt went off, the pants came next. Spike stared helplessly at his host. He opened his mouth to make a comment, quickly closing it when Giles threw him a look. Spike bowed down his head in submission.
Giles stood next to him now, grabbing his chains. Spike shook back as the watcher pulled them up before tying them again, this time higher to the shower head. Forcing the vampire up on his knees. Spike considered getting up, considered fighting this time. It was as if the watcher knew as he kicked him in the stomach.
He fell back, hitting the wall, barely held from falling out of the bath by the chains' hold on him. The cold water fell down on them both and Spike shuddered under it, his clothes drenched as the water spat up to him. He'd said a wrong word the first time that Giles had come in like this. Looked the wrong way, or a bit too long at the wrong place. Giles had made sure he'd never do it again.
He'd used a gag that first time, after that, he'd never needed one again.
The watcher rarely spoke to him during these things. He commanded him on occasion, expecting instant reactions, he shouted names, spat out his anger in harsh sentences, but he never spoke to Spike. The vampire might as well not be there, cause all he was to the watcher was a body ready to be used.
It's that what hurt the most.
Angelus had been cruel, he'd been vicious, both as taskmaster, as sire, well grandsire and as rival, but no matter what he'd done, Spike had always been there to him. It might have been Angelus' anger, but it had been Spike he'd acted it out on. Giles, ... he might as well be using a blow up doll for all the watcher seemed to care.
Spike shook his head, trying to get the wet hair from falling down his face. The watcher just glared and he stopped. Then the chains went down. Allowing him drop his arms.
Giles moved out of the tub, grabbing for a towel. He threw it to Spike. Spike got up and started drying the watcher's body. Not lingering, not touching. Giles grabbed a newspaper and read it while Spike worked on him.
"Notice me damn it."
He wanted to scream it out, he didn't, he started shaking, trying to get rid of at least some of the water.
The bathroom was silent for a second.
Then the watcher was on him. His naked body glaring under the cold artificial light.
And Giles hit him, forcing his head against the edge of the tub, over and over again.
Blood poured from between white hair. Lights flashed and Spike could feel his head hitting the floor as something grabbed his leg dragging him along. He struggled, but the chains were as strong as ever. They were in the living room now. Where… it hit him then. His feet started to smoke, slowly, painfully. Spike tried to fight back, but it didn't help.
The sun heated up, steam rose from his flesh, but the watcher didn't stop moving, didn't care enough to notice. They were out of the sunlight before he went up in flames, but by then he'd almost wanted to burn.
It stopped, the moving.
Giles was gone and Spike tried to get up to his feet. The watcher was taking out a record, carefully placing it on the old eight track.
Spike had tried to flee before.
He wanted to do so now.
Giles said one word, soft, nigh impossible to understand and Spike felt himself let go. He wasn't there anymore, his body, still feeling it, but he just sat there, screaming behind his eyes, unable to move a finger to stop what was coming.
Giles stood naked before him, his cock limp and flacid. The watcher stared at him and Spike could feel his arms lift up, grabbing hold of the watcher's warm flesh and bringing it to his mouth. He could feel his tongue touch out to it. He could feel himself sucking hard, his fangs softly touching skin, not even close to breaking it.
He could have dealt with it. Watcher felt himself a big boy now, let him. Let him play his little games if he wanted to, he didn't need to...
It was this looking from the background that hurt. Not being allowed to pick his own reactions, even in something that was forced onto him. Balls, the damn poofter didn't even leave him the illusion of resistance.
But then again, the watcher had never even bothered to ask, now did he.
Notice me, ask me, beat me, but bloody hell, just notice me.
I'm not nothing, I'm not, not, not, not,...