One way ticket to Special Hell

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01 February 2008 @ 12:47 am

Pretty

Ok, well this fic was written for my fabulous and totally amazing friend

jasonsnene, who - like me - was in the mood for something dark.

Title: Pretty
Pariring: Angel/Spike
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Dark, disturbing themes, m/m relationship, mention of psychological, emotional and physical abuse

Summary: Sometimes it's not so fun to be pretty

Pretty

Spike hated being “pretty”.

Sure, it had is uses – most notably with nubile young sluts all too willing to trust a nice-looking bloke – but there were some fairly serious drawbacks too.

The worst of which were always irrevocably linked with Angel in his mind.

He still wasn’t quite sure whether or not the bastard knew how much his words and actions got to Spike. He couldn’t decide if it was better or worse to believe that Angel was unconsciously causing him pain, rather than that he was such a colossal prick that he would deliberately make the blond feel like shit at every opportunity.

Either way…it was wearing him down. And, at first, he had ignored it, wondering whether he was imagining the entire thing. And by allowing it to happen, he’d opened the door to more, to worse.

At first, it was just the humiliation of being patronised, usually with an audience…

~<O>~

“Angel…I really don’t think that we can negotiate with these people.” Wesley was using his most reasonable and concerned tone of voice.

Gunn started to protest, making use of an impressive amount of legal jargon that basically boiled down to a load of spurious crap.

Spike rolled his eyes. He hated the way that these discussions were always so fucking…political. The clan was evil. End of story. Why the hell was there even a discussion at all?!

It wasn’t as if he felt this way because he was a ‘White hat’ or whatever…He’d always had a fairly black and white view of things. He could appreciate the shades of grey, sure, but stealing teenagers to feed on just couldn’t be good news.

“Look, can’t we just tell ‘em to stop nicking kids or we’ll kill ‘em?” he shrugged, and everyone looked at him in surprise, as if they’d forgotten that he was even in the room.

“Spike…Don’t you have something to do?” asked Angel in the tone of voice reserved for a toddler who was getting mixed up in adult business.

“Wot? Like keeping you from turning into a corporate puppet who can’t see past his motor pool into the rights and wrongs of things?”

Angel sighed. “Why don’t you go…train or something?” he suggested mildly, while Wes and Gunn looked at him impatiently, wondering when they could get back to the real business.

The blond snorted. They didn’t want to listen to him. Fine. He pushed away from the wall he had been leaning against just to the left of the recess behind Angel’s desk. He didn’t need to listen to this shit.

“Yeah, right,” he replied, injecting a considerable amount of scorn into his tone.

But no-one paid him any attention. In fact, as soon as they interpreted his action as a move to leave, they launched right back into their discussion. And, as he walked past Angel’s desk, the other vampire patted him on the ass.

Spike almost stopped in his tracks. His eyes flew to Wes and Gunn, but they weren’t so much as glancing in his direction. It was common knowledge that he and Angel were ‘involved’ of course – and had been for a while – but he’d expected SOME kind of reaction to being treated like a none-too-bright chippie. But there wasn’t one. Hell, the fucker could have added “good boy” to complete the scene and they wouldn’t have raised an eyebrow.

Later, he called Angel on the whole thing.

“You practically told me to get lost today, like I shouldn’t be part of the “grown-up” business.”

“Oh, come on, Spike…You don’t care about any of that work shit. It’s boring. You’re better off just leaving us to deal with it,” he had reassured, stroking a hand through his hair. “Now why don’t you wrap those perfect lips of yours around my dick?”

~<O>~

But Angel’s perception of him as an accessory had obviously taken root in his mind, and his possessiveness had hit an all-time high. It had only been worsened by the discovery that Spike and Lindsey had been fucking during the months following his corporealisation.

He threw it back in his face at every opportunity, usually accompanied by the implication that not only was he only good for one thing, but that was all he craved in life anyway.

~<O>~

“Come here.”

“Angel, not now.” He could scent the lust, but he was still sore from their morning session even with his enhanced healing abilities and he was supposed to be helping Fred with something in the lab in ten minutes.

The other vampire raised his eyebrows at him. “What’s the matter? Got a headache?” he asked sarcastically. “I said, come here.”

Spike exhaled in frustration. He’d been letting Angel get away with too much after seeing his hurt about Lindsey and now the big guy was just expecting him to comply with his every wish.

Walking slowly over, he tried to ignore the fact that his own arousal was triggered in a near-Pavlovian response to Angel’s. “Listen…I don’t have time now. Why don’t I come back la-”

His words were cut off as he was grabbed and yanked close, a hard mouth mashed against his own and hands insinuating themselves beneath his tee-shirt. Although his excitement flared, he tried to push away.

“Fuck, Angel!” he snarled, shoving at his chest. His eyes widened in shock as the other vampire growled in frustration and threw him back against the desk, where he landed half-sprawled across it.

“Don’t, Spike. Don’t you fucking dare refuse to give me that, when you so willingly let him have it!”

Spike glared at him, although he was exasperated to note that he felt both remorse and lust at the words. “So, wot? Because I did something you don’t like, I have to roll over every time you’ve got an itch that needs scratching?!”

Angel planted a hand on his chest and kept him pinned as he tried to rise from the desk. “Yes! Yes, you’re supposed to roll over like the little bitch you are and take whatever the fuck I tell you to! Don’t make me smack you back into line.”

Spike gaped at him with a murderous expression on his face, although he was more than a little uneasy about the direction that this was headed. “Do you remember that fight in the opera house, old man? I’m not your bitch any more,” he spat.

Angel laughed, the sound hollow and nasty. “You’ll always be my pretty little bitch, Spike. You’re a fucking pathetic excuse for everything else; you might as well be good for something.” As Spike snarled and struggled to get free, Angel gripped him by the throat and leaned in to say in an intimate tone that made the other vampire shudder for a variety of reasons, “And don’t pretend that you don’t like whoring for me – I can smell how hard your dick is.”

He wanted to protest. There was no way to fool Angel’s senses though, and he couldn’t help feeling bad about how destroyed the brunet had been when Lindsey had rubbed his face in his and Spike’s exploits. He couldn’t help but think that it had reinforced the notion that he was a silly little thing who had been easily duped into falling on his back with his legs in the air.

So, he had let Angel take what he wanted, spreading like he was supposed to and moaning in all the right places. And he had enjoyed it. He had. Just like he always did. And it didn’t matter that he didn’t come this time and Angel didn’t bother to finish him off, because he had been late meeting Fred anyway.

And it didn’t matter that she had just smiled and asked whether he had been with Angel, her expression knowing as she spotted the bruises on his throat.

And he really didn’t care that the simple task she’d given him had made him feel like a kid who’d been given a toy to keep him busy and out of the way.

It wasn’t an issue. Really.

~<O>~

He couldn’t quite pinpoint the moment that things had taken a more sinister turn, although he supposed that the signs had been there for a while, staring him in the face.

He hadn’t been leaving the Wolfram & Hart building very much after he’d moved into the penthouse with Angel. In fact, after that point, he hadn’t seen anyone except Angel very often.

Sometimes, he’d be present for meetings, and he’d catch the way that the demons were looking at him. He was used to it, of course, and it had never bothered him before; if anything, he’d always been pleased by the way that everyone lusted after him.

The thing was…Angel didn’t like it. At first, it had amused him to hear the other vampire growl almost inaudibly and then witness how snappy and petulant he became with the client in question. However, it had become a little less funny after the straight razor incident.

He hated being pretty.

He didn’t smile at anyone anymore, or even look at them really. It was best not to lead them on.

Angel didn’t like it.

He hadn’t really cared about any of that – it wasn’t as if he wanted much contact with anyone anyway. He’d always been a loner. And what was there to go outside for when you could get anything you needed at Wolfram & Hart?

But…

Well, he wasn’t sure that their relationship was altogether healthy any more. And for a relationship between two centuries-old ensouled vampires with lifetimes’ worth of psychological issues, two shared exes and a reality-altering prophecy between them to seem more than usually unhealthy...? That was bad.

~<O>~

“It’ll be nice for you to get a tattoo like mine. Kinda…romantic. Don’t you think?”

~<O>~

“Well, if you have the tag, then I’ll always be able to find you if anything bad happens. It’s for safety more than anything.”

~<O>~

“I know that you went to see Lindsey in the holding cell today. It’s okay, I’m not mad. I understand, really. The same as I know you’ll understand why I need to punish you…Come to me, Spike; you don’t want me to have to come to you.”

~<O>~

“If you don’t do what you’re told then I’m gonna have to lock you in here or restrain you. You know that you just get in the way when we’re trying to get our work done downstairs.”

~<O>~

“I don’t know why you bother with clothes any more. It’s not like anyone sees you, and it just wastes time when I want you.”

~<O>~

No-one seemed to miss him. He supposed that Angel must be right when he said that they thought of him like a burden. It wasn’t as if he could be any help to them.

As far as he was aware, the last person who had expressed any interest in his whereabouts had been Lindsey. He’d cried when Angel had told him what he’d done to the Texan for asking after him. He’d been punished for that.

He idly wondered whether the whole thing had gone too far for him to put a stop to it and get things back on track. Not that he thought he deserved to be an equal to Angel or anything, but perhaps things could go back to how they had once been and he could have a bit more freedom?

His questions were answered definitively the day that Angel brought the collar to the penthouse.

Spike thought that maybe, if he wasn’t so pretty, the other vampire wouldn’t want to keep him this way. But when Angel had discovered that he’d smashed the mirror and used a wickedly sharp shard against his face, he’d locked him up tighter than ever.

And, of course, he’d healed within a day or two, so the pain probably hadn’t been worth it.

Angel had told him that if he ever got bored with him, he’d put him out in the sunshine, because no-one else was allowed to have him. For a little while, he’d been glad to be pretty again. It kept him safe.

Now…? Well, the thought of the sunshine wasn’t so scary anymore.

THE END.