Title: Navigating Rough Water
Feedback: Love it!
Disclaimer: Don’t own any of the characters, etc.
Warnings/Squicks: Rape, non-con S/Aus, illusions to child abuse, M/M, THIS FIC STARTS WITH A FAIRLY INTENSE SCENE BE WARNED.
Summary: Spike and Xander, with life not easy for either the two bumpy paths cross and lead to an unlikely friendship and more.
Notes: Set in season two during the Angelus phase.
Big thanks to 50ftqueenie for the emergency beta and continuing support along the way and as ever my un-dieing gratitude to sublimatedangel who takes my fiction irons out the Britishness and makes my Xander believable, since having never been a 17 year old female in the USA my attempt at a 17 year old male can be hilarious!
Xander crept around the side of the warehouse, holding his breath as he watched the last of the minions depart out of the main door like school children, laughing and chattering, off to a night of fun and bloodthirsty frolics.
He clutched his stake more firmly in his slightly sweat damp hand, but they didn’t notice him, leaving him momentarily breathless in the dark.
Terror welled up once more and he took firm control of himself, pushing it down like he always did. “Well, it really is now or never, Xanman,” he said softly. Moving forward, he examined the steady babble from various parts of his brain: ‘Fuck... You've really lost it this time’...‘MUST protect pack’...‘Careful, there still may be some enemy about’
Last night had been the clincher. Seeing Angelus in the hospital. Backing him down all by himself. The adrenalin that followed.
Buffy shouldn’t have to kill the one she loved, or at least someone wearing the face of the man she loved. So Xander would help, or die trying. Not that he’d ever really liked Dead Boy anyway, not that the Buffster would ever look at him that way, or anyway that didn't involve getting the best donuts. Shrugging, he turned off that train of thought before he got distracted.
Moving past a window the dim light from within filtering around the weathered boards nailed over it, he paused; he could hear Angelus talking to someone.
“Think it's funny the slayer’s white knight got the better of me, do you, Spike?”
Warning tones of anger whispered through the sentence, making Xander cringe. He knew that type of tone. He’d heard it enough throughout his life, and it always spelt trouble for someone.
“Fucking best story I’ve heard in ages, mate,” was Spike’s smart arsed comment.
“Maybe you will think differently in a moment,” returned Angelus in a mild tone.
Xander peered through a slit in the loose, weathered boards that covered the window, seeing Angelus and Spike caught in a tableau. The gutter of candle light threw Spike's sharp features into a feline dance of light and dark and made Angelus’ half-turned face a study in duality, light and dark overhung by his heavy brow.
“Somehow I doubt that, Peaches.”
Angelus stalked round what was obviously a bedroom until he was behind Spike, running his hand along the back of his neck. Leaning down to reach his ear, he hissed.
“Oh, I think you will, childe. I think you need reminding of who the Master here is.”
Xander caught the brief flash of fear as it raced across Spike's face.
“You haven’t been my bloody Master for a very long time, Angelus; never again, NEVER!”
“Oh, I think you’ll be crying a different tune soon, childe.”
With that, Angelus swept Spike out of the wheelchair and onto the concrete floor.
“Come, childe, get up and fight,” Angelus sneered. “Oh, sorry, you can’t. Need to wait for your precious Dru to come and help you...”
Moving forward, he let the weight of one knee fall on Spike’s back, forcing him flat to the floor.
“Need her to help you feed...”
His hand went to the back of Spike's t-shirt and ripped it away. “Can’t really service her now, can you. Don’t worry, I’m taking care of that for you.”
Spike struggled beneath him, hissing and growling, legs very obviously not working as he tried to buck off the weight pinning him down.
Xander’s breath was only coming in short, sharp pants, the voices in his head suddenly very quiet, coalescing into one which moaned, ‘no, please, no.’
Cramming his fist into his mouth to stifle any sound, he watched as Angelus lifted the slighter figure off the floor and threw him over the edge of the bed, one hand coming down to pin the torso, the other hand reaching out to take one of the whips off the night table.
“Hold still now, this won’t hurt much,” Angelus crooned, laying the first lash over the pale marble of Spike’s back.
It was the first scream from Spike that broke Xanders hypnotic gaze; red blood running down, soaking the tatters of jeans and the sheets of the bed. Xander didn’t know how Spike had lasted so long.
“That’s right, childe, who is your master?”
But Spike just screamed, refusing to answer. Xander’s whole body jerked every time the lash fell until it seemed to become a ripple running from heel to head.
His own body ached in sympathy. He knew Spike was an evil, bad vampire, but this…
“You will submit, Spike,” Angelus roared, throwing down the whip and ripping off the remains of his childe’s clothing.
The piercing scream drawn from Spike as he was taken had Xander twisting to slide down below the window. Teeth biting down harder on to his fist and silent tears running down his face as his own memories overlaid the sounds behind.
The final broken “Master, please…” signalled the end. Angelus came with a roar, pounding into the broken body of his childe.
Angelus withdrew and watched in satisfaction as blood poured down the thighs of his childe. “Never let it be said I never did anything for you, Spike. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you for a couple of days.” Grinning maliciously, he pulled the door closed and locked the door from the outside.
I will be updating bi-weekly on a Monday and Friday :~) the next few chapters are ready and waiting, back from betaing.