Title: Change
Fandom: BtVS, season 2 School Hard
Genre: angsty, angry slash Spike/Angel
Words: 991
Notes: Originally posted October 24th 2005
Summary: I asked for drabble prompts and bayouskye replied and wanted ’some angsty smutty Spangel set right after the scene at the high school when Angel used Xander like a piece of bait.’ Little on the smut, it did get a bit angsty, some biting and PG-15 for cursing and imagery like the word erection? Played in a world where they meet up afterwards and Spike doesn’t have a split skull thanks to Joyce’s axe.
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So the big dumb wanker actually thought I was gonna fall for that? Like I wouldn’t know the instant he looked at me that he was off, wrong. That he’s still that Angelbeast. That’s what Dru would say if she was strong enough to be here. No I don’t need my Dark Godess to know it was a lie standing in front of me. He doesn’t even smell the same. Angelus wouldn’t smell like pig’s blood, and bloody hell but he’s shrunken. So much smaller he is. Angelus was a big brute, God how he made me feel so small. On purpose of course, he loved being the biggest baddest thing ever. This… this thing is nothing but a fangless pup feeding on butcher leftovers and still hasn’t recovered from his diet of rat and guilt. And he thinks I’m gonna fall for that look, like his gameface would hide anything. Please! It didn’t matter how much fear and anger was pouring out of that boy, it couldn’t hide that shell of a Sire’s scent from me. Like I wouldn’t know the difference from Angelus’ scent. It was family, desire and hatred for so long. More hatred than anything else really. That watered down version smells off, it’s that bloody guilt that has creeped into his pores to forever stay there.
But then it’s me after all, and I don’t mind much he’s not Angelus. This way I get to punch him without being strung up for daddy’s pleasure and whip. This way I get to hear him say he’s sorry for leaving, but he would kill me if he got the chance. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t. I’m the stronger one now. Right now he knows his precious little miss muffet is okay, because I’m focused on him. On his lips bloodied by my knuckles. I want to lick it off. I want to taste, to see if the guilt tastes bitter. If the soul burns.
No, I don’t mind he’s not Angelus. Not when He’s guilty enough to say, to whisper it as if I wouldn’t hear him bending so far as to say please Will. I wanted to hear that voice say please too many effin’ times to count. His fists doesn’t hurt quite the same anymore, laughable really. Asking me to leave. It shames him to admit it but he doesn’t want me to hunt this Slayer. And it’s not because of her, no he thinks I’m the one who will die. One dance with death to many. We’ll see. I will not give her up, even for lips stained with Sire’s blood, not for pleading dark eyes that doesn’t have an Angelus anywhere. No darkness, no fire. Fuck it, but I bloody do mind. I mind so fucking much he’s not Him. I want him here to see what I’ve become, really see and fucking appriciate my skills. To prove the bastard wrong. I hate that he left us and I hate it even more that I still feel it. That empty fucking hole that Drusilla cannot fill, becuase she’s just as empty as me. The words rush out of me, as they always do. A flood I cannot stop becuase my feelings burn in my blood, I never could get that chill Angelus demanded. I’m always going to be words and emotions, no matter if I write them in blood on torn skin or scream them through a mouthful of fangs. Sorry Sire, but this you couldn’t break from me. This bit IS me.
I tell him to take his wanking new persona and fuck off, I have Slayer plans to make. He can go off with his new human playmates and have a go at the sandbox, that shell doesn’t rule me.
Oh, but he tries with planting me face first into the wall when I ignore him. He’s still enough Angelus in him to hate the fact that I dare to ignore him. Like he’s nothing to fear anymore. I can’t help the glee from pulling my bloodstained lips into a toothy grin when I hear the brogue come back. So, the big nasty demon isn’t completely gone then.
His teeth still feel the same when they tear into my neck, William still sounds the same with his mouth full of my blood. And for a few seconds there I forget myself, I let the scent of my blood and his rage cloud me and let me believe I’m home. His large frame pinning me against the wall, his erection against my hip, and I’m so hard I know I would come just like this if he said the word. But he just drinks me down, his hands bruising my wrists in patterns I’ve missed seeing, missed feeling my body ache because of him. Instead of for him.
I realise too late that he won’t let me come, he never had any intention to do so … this is how he’ll kill me? With memories that made me weak, so he could empty me? I flail weakly, a whine high in my throat and suddenly he releases me. But as Angelus would have left me fall he gentles me on the ground, and tells me to ‘please leave Will’. He’s about to run a hand through my hair, but I no longer have locks for him to curl around his large hands. He looks a little lost and I want to say something, but my lips are almost numb and I’ll soon fall asleep till my body recuperates. I get my bloody Sire’s kiss before he leaves, but it’s my blood I taste and it tastes bitter. Bitter of memories and feelings I can’t get rid of. How much I want to cut them out or brand them over with new ones. Like the bastard he is he owns that part of me. We soulless monsters don’t change. No matter how much we want to.
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