Author: Inca
Feedback? Yes please! [email protected].
I dunno. M � flitters over some sex.
Angel/Spike kinda
Disclaimer: Whedon, mutant enemy and all that jazz
Spoilers: Season Five maybe up to about Destiny? A bit after Spike�s corporeal.
Summary: Spike�s thoughts.
Authors notes: Spikes thoughts from a third party. You ever get those days when you feel you impact about as much as a tuna sandwich?
***
Spike will always be the tuna sandwich.
Angel stands at his overly large, too-grand office desk, with his black silk shirt and his leather jacket sweeping down from his wide shoulders in that imposing demeanour Angel�s clothes seemed to be animated with. His chocolate hair catches the sun and Spike wants to sniff through the fronds until he reaches the tasty patch of soft skin behind his ears.
He�s never had sun warmed Angel before.
It would be an enjoyable experience.
Wesley and Gunn are also in the office, soft and mute they stand behind Spike, but they are just background noise. They are not in Spike�s thoughts, he does not notice them and so they don�t exist.
Spike�s almighty speaks. �Alright, so we take out the teenage Karnas after we track it to its� nest. Save any people there, right? We all ready?�
Spike nods.
�Sorry Angel, I really must meet my appointment in half an hour. It�s with Do�r Gregor, and he�s only in this dimension once every six months.� Wesley murmurs.
Spike�s eyes flick to Angel�s but he doesn�t notice.
�Gunn? You ready to go, then?�
�Naw, man, you and Spike handle it. I gotta be in court in twenty.�
Angel sighs through his nose and refrains from rolling his cavalier eyes. �Fine.� He says tightly, accepting it because Gunn suggested it, not wanting to be looked upon badly, always the gentleman.
But Spike can hear the tone in his voice and his heart sinks.
He covers his disappointment with a snort and some moronic snark and lopes out of the room after him.
Because Spike is a last resort. Spike knows this.
He remembers when he was turned. The first months, when he was shiny and new and fresh.
Wanted.
Days of lying spread out underneath cold fingers, painted with a cold tongue, left hard and wanting for hours and hours of indulgence, stretched wide open with large fingers or a cock or a fist. Hearing Angelus� snorts of laughter when the new trembling body panted or rolled its eyes back with the stretch or the touch against the before-unused nub that was only just discovered by Angelus. Discovered and worked and prodded and smoothed until the red haired boy had tears running from the corner of his eyes and down to his seeking mouth.
But then, the months passed. And Angelus got tired of the new toy, and he was put aside for old, long standing favourites.
And from that night, the night Angelus giggled with Darla into the clergy rooms of the church they had desecrated without even a side-glance at William, he was always second best. He was never chosen over anyone again � because Spike can�t stay in it for the long run. He�s just not worth it.
He tried to be new again. To reinvent himself into a loud, lustful carnivorous creature that could vie for the attention of a god against two sirens, compete against sugar and spice. New accent and curses rolling from a pink cherubic mouth the devil defiled with come and brimstone. Long smoke-clouded aloof strides and a liquid movement that made himself seem every inch the incubus he so desperately needed to be for attention, to become carnality incarnate over the doe-eyed poet that Angelus, with all his power and magnetism and domination, cast aside. To become a perfect lover to stand behind him and lie beneath him whenever he needed.
But Angelus didn�t want that either.
Spike follows Angel out to the Viper throwing barbs and insults hoping to catch him under the skin with just one. Irritation is the only way Spike can affect him anymore.
Because he�ll never be what Angel wants.
If Angel would just turn around and see through Spike, and down to William, curled in a foetal position in front of his heart, under the armour of the leather duster he would understand that it was all still on offer. A way to ease his frazzled mind, weighed down with his conscience. A cool open body to welcome him home with licks and shuddering fingers tracing goose bumps over his spine. To climb into bed with him and wrap his arms around his body. Everyone else can see that if he just took the time to turn his head and notice Spike, with his blue eyes and his pink lips, he would see something unique and beautiful and needy and very, very breakable.
But he can�t see that.
He never will. He doesn�t want to.
He doesn�t want to know Spike as anything other than disposable.
He slides into the Viper without a glance at Spike and waits for his annoying sidekick to climb in beside him, leather and smoke.
He wants to be more than that.
He wants to be Wesley � to be able to talk to Angel like his brother, to guide him, and in turn, have Angel watch over him like a protective mother duck.
He wants to be Gunn � to laugh with Angel like a friend, and watch hockey with him, having Angel smile at him as he yelled and threw popcorn at the screen.
But he is Spike. And he cannot be anything but a back up. Spike knows this. But he hopes.
He hopes to be more. He wishes and prays. Secretly. Lying in his bed as the sun rises behind heavy curtained windows, he closes his eyes and imagines.
What it would be like to be Darla � seductive and called on to satisfy Angelus� animalistic brutality with a leer and a hot waiting cunt. Bent over and used. Talented lips and tongue bringing him off, mouth wrapped around a hard cock and a finger dipping into the tight hole. He would heat his mouth with scalding coffee and warm Angel�s icy cock while he moaned.
He curls his hand around his cock as he imagines himself in Drusilla�s place. Pleading and begging in a coy child�s voice for his Daddy, fluttering his eyelashes until he worked Angelus up so much that he was thrown onto the bed and pounded into, his anus bleeding from the punishment while he sang beneath gnashing fangs. He would call him Daddy and be the perfect childe, whimpering but willing, tightening his hole for Angel even while he ripped it open in his ardour.
But he remembers being Buffy � tight hole and quiet, virgin still body. Eyes closed tensely as he was opened up for the first time, with kisses soothing his fevered forehead and eyelids. He imagined the moments skewed a bit. He made no pretences at believing he and Buffy were taken the same way.
He knew Angel never lapped up her virginal blood, sucking the sheets clean, before ravaging her abused cunt with his tongue and fangs.
He wanted to be taken her way, like he knew Angel would�ve done, gentle and strong, slowing when he whimpered, kissing him reassuringly when his fingers tightened around his arms, moving slowly while violins serenaded them.
Well that�s what Spike imagined.
He doubted Angel would have fucked Buffy into the mattress till she screamed.
That�s how Angelus took William. It was the most painful thing he can remember. More painful than dying. More painful than having his blood sucked from his veins until his heart collapsed from the pressure, till his fingers numbed and finally blacking out from blood loss to his brain.
But he still looks for more.
Will always, because for those moments, those small fleeting moments when Angelus came into him with a grunt and looked down, there was no one else. William had pleased this massive, bloodthirsty, beautiful animal with his body, and he�d never felt so � alive. So wanted. He needs that feeling again. Knows he can still please Angel, knows there�s no other reason he is on the Earth.
But Spike will only ever be a backup.
There will always be Buffy�s, Gunn�s and Wesley�s and even Darla�s, and Drusilla�s that Angel will work his way through first. Angel would rather have those.
Because Spike will only ever be a backup.
He�ll always be the tuna sandwich Angel will grudgingly eat, when he�d rather be eating escargot.
Will always be the last body at closing time, the one Angel will painfully submit to taking home, and pound into ambivalently before rolling over and falling asleep. The one he�ll be polite to as he holds open the door the next morning, cordially rushing the single serve body out because he has more important things to do.
Spike�s entire being calls out to Angel to see him. To save him. To want him as much as he wants the others.
But Spike will always be a back up. He�ll always be tuna.
Because he�ll never be what Angel wants.