A/S Slash with brief crossover to Hellblazer

Disclaimer: Angel, Spike, Cordelia, and Wesley belong to Joss Whedon, Warner Brothers, etc. John Constantine, Ellie and The Snob belong to Garth Ennis and DC Comics.

Some parts of this story may be offensive to people sensitive to religious issues.
 

I'm sitting here on these big rocks looking down at the beach. The moon's out and it's shining blue and big and round. Me, the moon, a cig and a bottle of Jack Daniels, celebrating the best start to a 24 hour cycle in a long time. My tum is full and I am feeling smooth. Had a great afternoon. Went into Angel's place through the tunnels. Stood outside that big steel door he thinks protects him from invading demon hordes. Listened but nobody was home. Got it open after awhile with a crowbar and some determination because I was feeling pretty exhausted .

Damn that Initiative. Can't even feed myself with this chip. I didn't used to care about anybody's rights, but I'm could get big on demon rights about now. Happy Meals think they got a reason to pull shit on anyone who isn't human and Angel runs around pulling them out of hot water like one of their big doting retrievers. Man's best friend. Him and his redemption. Sees them as better than he is or some perversion like that. Always whining about getting to be human, so he can die and stop feeling guilty. I'm dead and I don't feel guilty and I never had to be redeemed to get to that.

Nice digs he has though. All leather furniture and a fridge full of blood. I drank out of those bags. Pigs blood--yech--but not so bad after the fifth bag, if you microwave it a few seconds. Made me feel a lot better.

After the eighth bag I slowed down and took a look around. Figured Cordelia must be out to a long lunch. Hem. Angel living to die human, she living for shoes, but I wondered about old Parsley. Probably wants to grow a pair. What do I want? A cig, the moon, a bottle, lots of blood in the old tum, my duster. About all I want.

Just about all.

Back to taking a look around Precious' apartment. The book room wasn't bad--not as many books as Giles, but I guess if you're into figuring out what demons want it's enough. Who cares? They do something you don't like, you find 'em and kill 'em. Course Angel would say that doesn't' t match up with wanting demon rights. I say they got as many rights as I do and if they mess up mine, I get to mess up theirs.

Like this one I'm looking at down on the beach. What a wanker. There he or she, you can never tell with them--don't think they can either --got both parts--sits looking out over the ocean at the moonlight. Now one of those buggers never did anything to me directly, but I still want to go down there and make its day worse. Sodding lot of pussies. Don't usually run into one of these--don't keep the same company as the likes of me. Bore you to death if you start talking to them. They don't listen to anything anybody says, but they surely got all the answers. One sidled up to Drusilla once a few years back in London outside a pub around midnight. Sappy look on its gob. She thought it was going to proposition her. The sod tried to give her a couple of brochures--hey,she told him, bugger off,Toff, before I unravel your tux and bleed you out slowly. Told me about it later because she wanted to go back and find it and torture it for awhile. Trouble with that idea is that they tend to go tell all their friends and then you're in dutch with the whole crew for a bit till their silly minds get distracted and they forget about you. Talked her out of it.

I let it go that day, but now looking at this asshole down on the rocks there, lapping up the moonlight, I'm thinking some payback for Dru is in order. There he is, all dreamy, legs stretched out toward the ocean, moonlight glinting off his perfect fucking golden body. All that fluffy yellow hair hanging down. Going to get his freaking feathers wet if one of those sneaker waves comes in without warning.

Knew this sorcerer wanker in London had a go around with one of these. Guy got lung cancer--tough being a human and knowing a lot of spells that work on everybody but you. He went to a high ranking Quill Pillock for help and got turned down. Then It fucked with a vampire pal so he took a chain saw and the two of them cut its wings off. Boy did that cause a howl from the rest of this pack. It was a big gun too--Michael or Gabriel, I forget which one. Their boss doesn't put up with mistakes like that. Cast the downy one out of the choir I heard, then went after the wizard big time. Smart wizard though. Never heard the rest of the story, but I think he's still around .

So what was I going to do with this one? Had to think of something. Feeling too fat and fine not to. Would've killed to see the look on Angel's face when he got home, but thought it better to be far away. Especially cause of the bed. All sopping wet after my bath with a fat sticky spot where I wanked off right on his 300 count paisley sheets. It just makes me happy all over to picture him when he smells it. Then he'll be missing this silk shirt not to mention the 12 bags in the fridge or the Jack Daniels. I was careful to leave the wet bath towels on the sofa too.

Course, I know that if I'm going to have some fun with Mr. Feathers here, I better get to it cause Angel isn't going to let this gag go. To make sure, I left a little trail of blood crumbs down the tunnels to this beach head. Like it when my Sire gets his dander up. He's so damn sexy when he's pissed. He'll come roaring out of that culvert sometime before dawn. Gonna watch the action from here.

Back to Feather Boy.. or Girl (how *do* they tell?) What's he waiting for? All by him/herself. The sods usually run in pairs. Dress up in suits and ties and knock on people's doors bringing the glorious message from their boss. All humans have to do is open up their bleeding little hearts to Him and everything will be OK. 'Cept no one's supposed to ask how everything will get to be OK, just give a little bread and have a little faith. What a racket. Guy thrives on the doting attention of mindless humans.

Hey, another demon approaching ocean side. Uh oh, one of those pretty little fishy things. Pappa doesn't know she's here I bet. He'd be all over Feather Duster with that trident. She has this goopy lovesick look all over her scaly tail. Feather Boy jumps up, and runs into the water. They wrap around each other and start moaning. Feather Duster is going to be full of pointy little holes from Salty Daddy by morning if this keeps up. And I can do something to make it even more interesting.

I get up leaving the booze and cigs and duster on the rocks. Doesn't matter if the shirt gets mucky, it's not mine is it?. The Docs and the pants will clean up. I climb down the rocks quiet as a stealthy vampire can and get within about ten feet of the pair. They're humping now and I just know the selfish he/she/it git is going to cum too quick leaving the fish nymph to orgasm in the kelp by herself. I pick up a handful of sand. They can't see me they're so bundled up in lust. I reach between demon legs and fishy tale and push the sand home just as Golden Boy pounds into her for the last time.

The screeching is music to my ears as I scramble back up the rocks to my perch. There he is all scoured up, orgasm stopped dead and willy wilting. She is trying to get sand out of her hole with an expression of disgust all over her heart shaped pouty little green gob.

The sand sticks in her slime and she swirls around into deeper water to wash it off. The demon splashes salt water on its dick--a mistake with all the scrapes and breathes really fast in and out meanwhile looking around the beach. Wouldn't want to be embarrassed --humans tend to expect more from this kind of demon than they do from themselves. It's the only kind they acknowledge and it better behave like it has family values or they get pissed. Fish Girl pops her head out of the water and glares at Feather Top. He must be responsible for all this, after all he's such a prick. She throws a couple of scallops at him and disappears under the surf. Wonder if she'll tell Dad about the wanker who poked her then filled her hole full of sand. I can just see it when Dad calls the Big Guy and complains. Shit flows downhill and Feather Butt can forget moving up to the Seraphim for a few thousand years.

I reach the top of the cliff , sit down and reach for the Jack Daniels. It isn't there and then... I smell him before I see him. I don't stop to think, I jump straight out and down to the next rock level as he snarls behind me. I am laughing so hard I almost can't see straight. Then quick as I can I jump again to the next batch of rocks and then the next. I hear him behind me, but I reach the beach and start running down the sand toward a party of humans in the distance that I've had my eye on all the time I was sitting there. All I have to do is get there. Humans put him off. He doesn't like to offend them. I'll mingle and when it starts to get light convince some little slut that I need a home for the day. He'll have to go back to his place and do the laundry.

I run like Hell. I can hear him pounding behind me. I realize I'm not going to make it to the party--he's bigger than I am and faster. I start evasive maneuvers. I run into the surf. He'll be just a little reluctant to follow because of the dead weight /no buoyancy vampire thing and it might slow him down.

Owwwwwwwww. Yikes. We both go down and he's got me now, twisting me to face him, my wrists down into the sand, his weight on top of me, water soaking my (his) silk shirt. He holds me down hard and I open my eyes an inch from his nose. Two dark chocolate eyes glare down into mine. No game face, so maybe there's some hope for moi. The partyers down the beach are too far away to notice anything. This could go either way. I could get staked now and put out of my misery or he could have a change of heart and let his childe go with a slapping around and a lecture---or, the best of all worlds, he could burst out laughing, take me in his arms, tell me I'm a rascal, and shag the hell out of me for old times sake.

Uh oh, none of the above. He glowers, I glower back. I surprise him and resist with a sudden jerk that sends him to the side. I roll out and wrench one wrist out of his grip and jump to my feet dragging him with me up to his knees. With my free hand I reach around and clamp down on the back of his neck and press his face into my pants zipper behind which is my already hard dick. He sputters and smacks my legs out from under me.. I go down on my back flat into a pile of fishy smelling kelp. But I manage to get one knee up before he lands on top of me and I push hard. It throws him up about three feet into the air -- I've eaten and he hasn't what with the empty larder. (Part of my backup plan).

He doesn't remember this kind of strength in me so it's another surprise for Precious when I jump up and launch myself on top of him, one knee goes into his groin, one hand slaps over his mouth and nose and the other turns into a fist and pounds into his ribs. To confuse him a little more I start yelling at him (not part of the plan, it just starts coming out of me by itself).

"You great git, arsehole from Sunnyhell, slayers bitch, humans' lackey, you think you can take me? After 100 years on my own I better know how to handle myself." I roll off him and scuttle backwards, jump up and head pell mell for the party. But the party is gone. Nothing but the embers of a bonfire and no chance to get mingley in safety. I hear him again as I reach the fire and he slams into me from behind. I go down on my chest so hard that if there was air in my lungs it would have left me for good. He presses down. He thinks he has me now which means I have to move fast. When I get near Angel, speed matters, because if I hesitate, my brains, my personality, my me-ness will start leaking out of my pores and my joints will turn to goo. This used to happen in the old days when Angelus even entered the room. I could feel it as I came in the bed today with the smell of him all over. So I got out of there fast. Got to keep control. Now I try to buck him off. No use, I can feel my brains start to get all slippery in my head. Hard to get control over free will when it starts to slop around with desire .

He wraps his arms and legs around me and squeezes in. We lie still. I close my eyes as my swollen groin presses into the sand. It feels twice as large as it is. Sweeeet pressure. We lay that way for a beat. Then he says in my ear. "You came to my place and left. Never, never, never do that again. Do I have your attention Will?"

Will, a hundred years since I heard that name. Who does he think he is? Bloody Michael? I'll see his wings in hell. "Don't tell me where to go, what to do, who to pay attention to you fat prig."

He jerks me up spins me over and flattens my back into the sand. For a long time he just looks at me. I wait for him to relax his grip, but he doesn't. Damned if I'll say anything first. Finally he says, "You're right. You don't need bullying, but you do need me. Don't say you don't need me. Don't lie."

I know I need him, or want him so bad it feels like need. Can't tell which. I say, "Get off me then." He doesn't. I relax my resistance a little to make him think I'm weakening. Ok, so I like hanging around him in spite of his arrogance and moping all the time over sluttly blondes (self excluded). Hell, I'm nuts about him even though he's half human and wouldn't know a good time if it socked him in the balls. "Get off me you freaking clod."

He lets me go. Told you I was quick. Here we were, a good bonfire all gone to waste if I wasn't. I slip one set of fingers into his hair, pull him forward sharply, and kiss him hard and deep. I send my tongue between his teeth and down into his throat as far as I can get it and I do it fast.. Taking my sire by surprise is hard, but I was on a roll now. I slide my other arm around his waist and pull him into me. He hasn't much choice except to wrap his arms over my back because he's too close to punch. I fall back onto the sand trapping his hands and wrists under me and I keep on kissing him. I could kiss him to death. I could kiss him so hard our molecules mixed till we couldn't separate. Could kiss him till the sun came up and turned us into one flaming ball of lust. God I love kissing this bastard.

It takes him a second to realize the jig is up. He's mine. Always was. Little Will, smaller, weaker, his charge. He thinks its still the same way. I'm about to show this human wannabe who's in charge now. He's on top, but I rule. I roll us both over and grip his belt, pulling hard till it lifts him off the ground. I don't let go of his mouth, I ram my tongue even further down his throat forcing him wide open. His belt loosens and I slide my hand down into his pants against his skin to his dick. It's hard already, he gets hard fast, and stays that way , but this time I decide when he gets to release and where. I grasp it firmly and shove it in then jerk it forward. Then faster, harder. He moans and his arms fall away from me into the sand. I have him now--solid and I mean to keep him. I want him sobbing in my arms ten minutes from now. I want him to give himself to me. I want him to know that he belongs to Spike and to do that I have to give him a ride to hell and back.

I keep shoving and jerking until he's ready to cum, then I let go both his cock and his mouth at once, he chokes and his brown eyes turn to me with a look of bewilderment, yearning, uncertainty. I grab his hair from behind and pull his head back until the top of his head touches the sand. I sink my teeth into his jugular vein deep and hard and he howls as he cums like a train shrieking out of a tunnel. I suck and suck. More food for me, he gets a little weaker. I have to prove it to him now. I'm Spike, he's mine, he isn't my protector, my Sire, duty bound to raise me, punish me, reward me. He has to see me, Spike, for what I am now, this century. I have to shock him, weaken him, pound the hell out him if necessary till I get him to see me straight. Because I do know what I want, and its him, willing, respectful, just a bit in awe of me. That's how I am about him and I want the bloody same back.

I tear my mouth away from him, push him over on his stomach and rip his pants down. He's too stunned to resist. I pull his cheeks apart and lick his ass hole. I know it's sensitive, but I don't want him to think I'm letting him off easy. I shove myself in dry. He gasps and writhes and then I am pounding him, driving him. I cum hard and flood him with my semen, claiming him, branding him from the inside.

I fall on top of him and grip his hair again and pull his head up. "Got your attention, Sire?" He doesn't answer. I jerk his head. "Answer me, Precious." He still doesn't say anything, just swallows and gives another gasp, He tries to look back at me. He still seems startled, overcome. I have to finish this fast before he gets a grip on himself. "Now listen good. I am Spike, not Will, not "Boy", your childe, your pet. Don't tell me what to do, where to do it. Not any bleeding more. Got it?" I let him go.

He pulls away. He is half sitting, half lying by the fire, pants down around his knees, alabaster skin and family jewels covered with grains of sand, face bruised, hair mussed. The firelight flickers across his chest and face. He leans on one elbow and rubs the back of his other hand across the bridge of his nose and over one eye (maybe as much of the sobbing part as I'm gonna get right now). His shirt is torn, he looks..., he looks like an injured child who isn't sure where to turn. A little of me cracks. I reach out to him, "Angel, I..." He looks at me and swallows again. Those mahogany teddy bear eyes of his wrench my insides. He starts to say something and chokes. I wait. He stares off down the beach toward the light starting in the sky, then looks down at something in the sand for several seconds. Finally he says, quietly, " I want to go home. I want a bath. I want to go to bed." He pauses. My insides are twisted cause I'm suspensed over what he's going to say next. Then he raises his eyes to mine. "You coming?"

The next evening after sunset, on the roof of his building I tell him I had a good day. We look out at the city. He says, "Except for the doing the laundry part?" I say I know I bitched at that, but taking it as a whole, It's a day I'll remember. "Not doing the laundry again though." He gives me that smile, the bloody wicked one with the eyes drawn in and the mouth turned up to the side and I know who tells who what and where to do it is gonna keep coming up for reassessment. So, life has its ups and downs and laundry and somebody has to go shopping with Cordelia and carry the sodding packages.

But I suppose, on the whole, it could be worse.
 

End
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