In Twilight and Shadows
By Cyberwulf
Rated 12s (PG-13) because it's a bit dark .
Disclaimer : Characters belong to Joss Whedon and not to me , not even the smallest little bit .
Spoilers : Early season four . Spike's been living with Giles for only a couple of weeks . References to "Becoming" I and II , and that ep where Jenny got killed .
Summary : Spike's POV . As he sits chained up in Giles' bath , he hears things he'd rather not hear . Okay , so this particular fic may not be realistic , given the length of time between Jenny's death and Spike getting chipped . On the other hand , torture probably has a long-term traumatic effect . On the third hand , this is just a story I had to get out of my system , so suspend your disbelief (if you're willing) and tell me what you think . I'll try and write something a bit more upbeat soon .
Rupert's having the dream again . I know 'cos I can hear him sobbing through the wall .
The first night I heard it , I didn't know what it was . Then I realised it was someone crying . THEN , I realised it was Rupert crying , and I don't mind admitting I felt a shiver down my back . There's something about hearing a grown man cry like that , it gets to me . Especially a strong man like Rupert .
And he is strong . I've got to hand it to him , the old tiger took everything Angelus threw at him and didn't crack . He never begged for his life , and he never cried the way he's crying now . Yeah , there were tears , streaming down his face , but they were , y'know , tears of pain and anger . He wasn't sobbing back then – great big gut-wrenching sobs like the ones drifting through the wall right now .
I shift about a bit . This bath is bloody uncomfortable . Still , could be worse – he could have chained me with me back jammed up against the taps . He's still sobbing . This could go on for a while . I shake my head . Has this been happening for the past year and a half ? Or is it just me being in the same house that's brought it on ? All things considered , I'm in favour of the latter theory . Eighteen months of what's going on in Rupert's head right now and the poor bastard 'ud be a raving lunatic . I must say though , I'm gaining a newfound admiration for my old sire . One thing about Angelus , he's very good at what he does . Watcher wasn't more than a day with us , and after all this time he's still traumatised . Gotta admit , the big poof made quite an impact .
The third night it happened – that's about six nights ago – we had the crying , and it tailed off , and then there was silence . Then I heard the bed creak and him stumbling down the corridor and into the bathroom . I was wide awake . I'm still not used to this sleeping at night lark , and anyway it's hard to sleep when you can hear someone going so completely to pieces just up the hall . He didn't look at me – it was like he'd forgotten I was there . He ran the tap , splashed cold water on his face , and wiped his nose on his pyjama sleeve . (Pyjamas ? How old IS he ? Hmm , maybe I should just be thankful he doesn't sleep starkers . . .) I looked at him . It was about one a.m., good hunting time because humans are approaching their lowest physical and mental ebb . Rupert certainly looked it that night . Pale , tired , red eyes . . . old . And I don't know why I said it , but I did .
" Y'a'right ?"
He turned sharply and from the look on his face I knew he'd thought he was alone . I gave him a smirk .
Next thing I knew , BLAM ! there's a numbness in my jaw that turned into pain , and my head smacked off the ceramics . I looked up at Rupert and there were two of him , standing over me with fists clenched . I blinked a few times and then there was just one of him . His face was emotionless but the eyes were on fire . I spat out a tooth. He glared at me and then went out .
I couldn't believe the bastard hit me . In a weird way , it reminded me of Angelus . He'd give me a clout whenever I asked too many questions , or asked the wrong one , or answered back once too often . I didn't blame Rupert for taking a swing at me . The Slayer probably didn't tell him about our little deal , and all Rupert knows is I was the good cop to Angel's bad cop , cleaning him up and telling him to co-operate because I couldn't hold my sire back when he really got angry . And I knew what the punch meant . Tell no-one . And you won't get hurt .
In the morning when he brought up my blood he didn't say a word .
We never mentioned it again .
Sobbing's subsided now . All I can hear is this rapid , frightened , animal breathing . Rupert's awake .
He doesn't talk about it . Just keeps it all bottled up inside . I don't expect him to talk to me , but he doesn't say a word to the brats either , even when they ask . Last night he had a pretty bad night . Kept saying "Jenny" over and over . She was his bird, I think . Till Angelus put her in a permanent neck-brace . When he woke up , I heard him go downstairs and I'm fairly sure I heard him puke in the kitchen sink . When the little Scoobies came round the next morning , one of them actually noticed how rotten he looked . Not his beloved princess , the Slayer , though . I think it was what's-her-name , red hair – Willow , that's the one . She asked him if he was okay , said he looked pale .
" I haven't been sleeping well of late ."
I couldn't stop myself from snorting in derision . Luckily for my pretty face , no one heard .
' I haven't been sleeping well of late .'
He pissed the bed one night . I know 'cos I heard him swearing at himself and mucking about with the mattress .
And still he tells them nothing . Because in this little gang of theirs , he's the Daddy. And Daddy doesn't have bad dreams . Daddy doesn't cry . And Daddy doesn't talk about his problems .
Daddy can't sleep seven nights in a row because Favourite Daughter's psycho boyfriend killed Mummy and then tortured Daddy in the most degrading ways known to human or demon .
Everything's gone very quiet up the hall , but Rupert's not asleep . He snores a little usually , and at the moment there's just complete silence . I hear him get up and start down towards me . I turn to the wall as much as I can , close my eyes and pretend I'm asleep . I've been doing it since the night he belted me one . It's tough sleeping in here . Bath's hard , and the light is on . (We had this huge debate over it . Rupert wants the bathroom light on all night , I want it off . In the end we compromised . The light's on , but he changed the bulb to a lower wattage .) But if he wants an illusion of privacy , I'm not about to argue . I know what it's like – if you're upset and you've been crying , you don't want a sarcastic bastard like me gawking at you .
I hear him come in . The tap goes on . I think he's washing his face . A low moan . Deep breath . Tap goes off . I wait for him to leave . He doesn't . I hear him sit on the edge of the bath .
" Spike ."
He sniffs , and swallows .
" Spike ."
I keep my eyes closed . If he wants to take his anger out on something beautiful , he can shoot a bloody panda .
" Tha-thank you for ke-keeping me alive . . ."
His voice is husky and it nearly breaks . Suddenly I'm praying for him to get out of here before he falls apart in front of me . He swallows again .
" I'm sorry I hit you . . ."
Oh , bloody hell . If he says " it's not your fault" . . .
I hear him get up and make his way to the door .
" S'a'right ," I mumble .
There's a pause . . . then the door creaks shut .
I breathe a sigh of relief .
In the morning we won't mention this again .
-^)--)~
By Cyberwulf
Rated 12s (PG-13) because it's a bit dark .
Disclaimer : Characters belong to Joss Whedon and not to me , not even the smallest little bit .
Spoilers : Early season four . Spike's been living with Giles for only a couple of weeks . References to "Becoming" I and II , and that ep where Jenny got killed .
Summary : Spike's POV . As he sits chained up in Giles' bath , he hears things he'd rather not hear . Okay , so this particular fic may not be realistic , given the length of time between Jenny's death and Spike getting chipped . On the other hand , torture probably has a long-term traumatic effect . On the third hand , this is just a story I had to get out of my system , so suspend your disbelief (if you're willing) and tell me what you think . I'll try and write something a bit more upbeat soon .
Rupert's having the dream again . I know 'cos I can hear him sobbing through the wall .
The first night I heard it , I didn't know what it was . Then I realised it was someone crying . THEN , I realised it was Rupert crying , and I don't mind admitting I felt a shiver down my back . There's something about hearing a grown man cry like that , it gets to me . Especially a strong man like Rupert .
And he is strong . I've got to hand it to him , the old tiger took everything Angelus threw at him and didn't crack . He never begged for his life , and he never cried the way he's crying now . Yeah , there were tears , streaming down his face , but they were , y'know , tears of pain and anger . He wasn't sobbing back then – great big gut-wrenching sobs like the ones drifting through the wall right now .
I shift about a bit . This bath is bloody uncomfortable . Still , could be worse – he could have chained me with me back jammed up against the taps . He's still sobbing . This could go on for a while . I shake my head . Has this been happening for the past year and a half ? Or is it just me being in the same house that's brought it on ? All things considered , I'm in favour of the latter theory . Eighteen months of what's going on in Rupert's head right now and the poor bastard 'ud be a raving lunatic . I must say though , I'm gaining a newfound admiration for my old sire . One thing about Angelus , he's very good at what he does . Watcher wasn't more than a day with us , and after all this time he's still traumatised . Gotta admit , the big poof made quite an impact .
The third night it happened – that's about six nights ago – we had the crying , and it tailed off , and then there was silence . Then I heard the bed creak and him stumbling down the corridor and into the bathroom . I was wide awake . I'm still not used to this sleeping at night lark , and anyway it's hard to sleep when you can hear someone going so completely to pieces just up the hall . He didn't look at me – it was like he'd forgotten I was there . He ran the tap , splashed cold water on his face , and wiped his nose on his pyjama sleeve . (Pyjamas ? How old IS he ? Hmm , maybe I should just be thankful he doesn't sleep starkers . . .) I looked at him . It was about one a.m., good hunting time because humans are approaching their lowest physical and mental ebb . Rupert certainly looked it that night . Pale , tired , red eyes . . . old . And I don't know why I said it , but I did .
" Y'a'right ?"
He turned sharply and from the look on his face I knew he'd thought he was alone . I gave him a smirk .
Next thing I knew , BLAM ! there's a numbness in my jaw that turned into pain , and my head smacked off the ceramics . I looked up at Rupert and there were two of him , standing over me with fists clenched . I blinked a few times and then there was just one of him . His face was emotionless but the eyes were on fire . I spat out a tooth. He glared at me and then went out .
I couldn't believe the bastard hit me . In a weird way , it reminded me of Angelus . He'd give me a clout whenever I asked too many questions , or asked the wrong one , or answered back once too often . I didn't blame Rupert for taking a swing at me . The Slayer probably didn't tell him about our little deal , and all Rupert knows is I was the good cop to Angel's bad cop , cleaning him up and telling him to co-operate because I couldn't hold my sire back when he really got angry . And I knew what the punch meant . Tell no-one . And you won't get hurt .
In the morning when he brought up my blood he didn't say a word .
We never mentioned it again .
Sobbing's subsided now . All I can hear is this rapid , frightened , animal breathing . Rupert's awake .
He doesn't talk about it . Just keeps it all bottled up inside . I don't expect him to talk to me , but he doesn't say a word to the brats either , even when they ask . Last night he had a pretty bad night . Kept saying "Jenny" over and over . She was his bird, I think . Till Angelus put her in a permanent neck-brace . When he woke up , I heard him go downstairs and I'm fairly sure I heard him puke in the kitchen sink . When the little Scoobies came round the next morning , one of them actually noticed how rotten he looked . Not his beloved princess , the Slayer , though . I think it was what's-her-name , red hair – Willow , that's the one . She asked him if he was okay , said he looked pale .
" I haven't been sleeping well of late ."
I couldn't stop myself from snorting in derision . Luckily for my pretty face , no one heard .
' I haven't been sleeping well of late .'
He pissed the bed one night . I know 'cos I heard him swearing at himself and mucking about with the mattress .
And still he tells them nothing . Because in this little gang of theirs , he's the Daddy. And Daddy doesn't have bad dreams . Daddy doesn't cry . And Daddy doesn't talk about his problems .
Daddy can't sleep seven nights in a row because Favourite Daughter's psycho boyfriend killed Mummy and then tortured Daddy in the most degrading ways known to human or demon .
Everything's gone very quiet up the hall , but Rupert's not asleep . He snores a little usually , and at the moment there's just complete silence . I hear him get up and start down towards me . I turn to the wall as much as I can , close my eyes and pretend I'm asleep . I've been doing it since the night he belted me one . It's tough sleeping in here . Bath's hard , and the light is on . (We had this huge debate over it . Rupert wants the bathroom light on all night , I want it off . In the end we compromised . The light's on , but he changed the bulb to a lower wattage .) But if he wants an illusion of privacy , I'm not about to argue . I know what it's like – if you're upset and you've been crying , you don't want a sarcastic bastard like me gawking at you .
I hear him come in . The tap goes on . I think he's washing his face . A low moan . Deep breath . Tap goes off . I wait for him to leave . He doesn't . I hear him sit on the edge of the bath .
" Spike ."
He sniffs , and swallows .
" Spike ."
I keep my eyes closed . If he wants to take his anger out on something beautiful , he can shoot a bloody panda .
" Tha-thank you for ke-keeping me alive . . ."
His voice is husky and it nearly breaks . Suddenly I'm praying for him to get out of here before he falls apart in front of me . He swallows again .
" I'm sorry I hit you . . ."
Oh , bloody hell . If he says " it's not your fault" . . .
I hear him get up and make his way to the door .
" S'a'right ," I mumble .
There's a pause . . . then the door creaks shut .
I breathe a sigh of relief .
In the morning we won't mention this again .
-^)--)~