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| a.connor a.doyle a.lindsey a.oz a.spike a.wesley a.xander a.other three.somes het.fic character.study |
| Title: Seeking Protection Author: Pippa Pairing: A/S Rating: Soft R Setting: S4 BtVS Here I am. How the fuck did I come to this, sitting opposite my poof of a Sire's office, too scared to go and knock on the bloody door? Half of me wants to just turn and run, but where would I go? Dru doesn't want me and I can't go back to Sunnyhell even if I wanted to. The Slayers the one that brought me here... well she didn't exactly bring me here, she let me ride along to her Dad's place and told me I could probably find my own way from there. Of course I could find my own way from there. Even if I didn't know where he lived I could have found him. He gives off this energy that I could follow if I lost all my senses, a magnetism, I'm like a compass and he's my north. Bloody hell I'm waxing poetical and I ain't even drunk. I don't care about your demons, that's scary. It's true though, he draws me to him like a moth to a soddin flame, and I'm just as likely to burn. But still I keep coming back over and over again. I'm addicted to the heat. I once said that love was blood, and it's true, my blood boils when he's near; I feel it, the heat in my veins. My blood flows for him, calls to him, belongs to him, my Sire. Interpret that how you will, I'm fed up with all that introspective shit. I was drawn to him when I first came to Sunnyhell and then when Dru left me. I knew he was back even before she did, before her blasted stars told her. I think I felt his pull even before he turned me. My eyes were drawn to him across that smoky pub I first saw him in. I think I was the first 'victim' ever to stalk a vampire. I would sit in the corner nursing as many pints as I could afford, all the time watching him. He had an amazing presence, whether he was flirting outrageously with a barmaid or carrying out hushed conversations with an associate of some sort. Then at eleven, I would follow him outside and watch as he got into a big black carriage and drive away. At first I tried to kid myself that my change in routine had nothing to do with him, that checking out time was the best time for someone in my profession, that drunk men were more careless with their purses or were more desperate for a good hard shag. He blew that neat little belief right out of the water though when one day he didn't turn up at the pub. I waited all evening but there was no sign of him. That was the night that I had to accept that my life revolved around a man whose name I didn't even know. I don't know exactly when he noticed me, but it was a few weeks after I noticed him. One day he suddenly changed the routine. Instead off getting into his carriage he turned and walked down an alley. I was curious and so like the stupid fuck I was at the time I followed him, and that's where he turned me. There was no seduction to it, no subtle dance, just one minute I was following him and the next he was behind me. To this day I still don't know how he did it. Not that I had much of a chance to look around me to try to work it out; with him that close to me my senses were in overload. The sight of him, beautiful and terrifying in his true face, his smell, Human and animal all at the same time, and the sound of his footsteps almost covered by my own heartbeat, the feel of him pressed up against me, his fangs slicing my neck.. and finally the taste of him, his blood, overshadowing every other sense, a rich coppery tang that has never been equaled by anything since. From that day on he was my everything. I existed for him. He was my lover, my father, my protector, my guide, my owner and my master. To put it simply he was my bloody Sire and I was his childe, his favourite, his Will. You know he never used to call me Spike, even though I insisted every other bugger did; to him I was always Will. That's one of the things that gave him away when he tried to feed the slayer's idiot to me. He called me Spike. I don't know what I was angrier about, the fact that he was trying to betray me for her or that he had forgotten so much about us that he couldn't even put on a convincing act. It hurt when he left.. if that's not a bloody understatement I don't know what is. No. To be more exact, it nearly bleedin' killed me when he left. And then he was back, my Angelus, only.. he wasn't my Angelus any more. All those years of being trapped in with that soul had changed him. Even though Soulboy was gone he was still her's, the Slayer's. She was still his obsession, his passion, as I had once been, and because he wanted her and couldn't have what he wanted, he took what I had. He took control of my minions, my lair, and my Dru, not that that took much effort. She loved having her Daddy back and for a short while I thought I had mine back to. That's when I started to hate him. Before I was just angry, but after that, I hated him. That's why I went to the Slayer; I wanted him gone, away, anywhere but just there, just out of reach, near enough to see, to smell,to hear but too distant to touch, to taste. That little speech I gave to him and the Slayer? It wasn't about them it was about *me*. I fought him when I wanted so much to shag him, and sometimes I hated him so much I would literally shake from the force of it and all the while I've loved him. I'll be in love with him until it kills me and there's nothing I can do about it. And so here I am, staring at his window. I once read that my name meant seeker of protection. Not Spike, that just means he who should be avoided if he looks pissed off and is carrying a railroad spike; no I mean William. I think it comes from old German.. seeker of protection.. I guess we all have a destiny we can't escape. I cross the road and knock on his door, I fidget until he opens it and then suddenly I'm still. It's at times like this that I'm glad I'm shorter than him. At this height I can stare at his chest, avoid meeting those eyes that seem to give him the ability to look in to my heart. What am I supposed to say, 'Hiya mate, remember me, I'm the guy that tortured you a few months back, do ya mind if I kip on yer sofa for a while?'. No, I have a feeling that won't work. He clears his throat, waiting for me to say something. There's only one thing I can say; I look into his eyes as I speak. "Sire", it comes out as a cross between a croak and a whisper. He sighs and steps aside. I hear the words, "Come in Will" as I pass. After a hundred years I'm home. ****** Email me if you know Pippa's addy |