Dilate

The Adventures of Captain Peroxide and Deadboy

The Angel/Spike Zone of the BtVS Writer's Guild

AUTHOR: Laikokae ([email protected])

CATEGORY: S/A(us); Spike'sPOV;

RATING: R. There's sex,but it isn't explicit.

FEEDBACK: Be critical. Be very, very critical.

DISTRIBUTION: If you want it, take it.

SUMMARY: Spike visits Angel

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. The song is Ani DiFranco's, who by the way, rocks.

NOTES: Coming down listening to Ani DiFranco and reading fanfic is probably not the brightest idea. It results in bad song-fics.

Ani, however, rocks, so read it for the lyrics. The song is called 'Dilate' and it can be found on her album, also called 'Dilate'.

x-------------------------------------------------------------------x

//life used to be life-like

now it's more like show-biz

I wake up in the night

and I don't know where the bathroom is//

I can't remember when the days began to blend into each other. There used to be events to separate them. Places, people, things to chart the passing of time by.

It never used to be this...empty.

Weeks. Months. Years. I don't know how long it's been. It could be a few years, or a few decades. I don't know how long I've been on my own.

//and I don't know what town I'm in

or what sky I'm under//

This motel is the same as the last and the one before that and the one before that. You could find a motel identical to this one in every town or city on this fucking planet.

I could be anywhere. It doesn't matter. The walls would be covered in the same peeling white paint and the bedsheets would be the same washed-out blue standard wherever I was.

//and I wake up in the darkness and I

don't have the will anymore to wonder//

The only thing that changes is that this nowhere is closer to him than the last.

//everyone has a skeleton

and a closet to keep it in

The memories are still there, but they're starting to fade.

Celia is almost like a story somebody else told me once, and Dru... ..my dark princess feels like a dream. The years we had together don't seem real anymore.

Of course, that was the point at the time.

That was what it was like being with Dru.

She hasn't really lived in the world since Angel made her insane. There's a certain amount of attraction to that. When I was with Dru we could do anything, be anywhere, be anyone.

Nothing was real with her.

Raise some demons, wreak some havoc, kill, pillage, dance in blood and still be home in time to catch Disney in the morning. She made my world hers. She was my world. When I was with her, I didn't know anything else.

Celia, Dru...they used to be my markers. I defined my world by the people in it. Now they've all faded beyond recognition and the time without them since had been an amorphous nothingness. The guidelines have blurred.

Well, all except one.

//every song has a you

a you that the singer sings to

and you're it this time

baby, you're it this time//

Dru was only ever a makeshift replacement and Celia never lasted beyond my death.

But he was my constant.

When Dru left, I followed the trail of him back to the Hellmouth.

For so long, it didn't matter that I didn't see him. What mattered was that he was near, that he existed. I could mark the days by him. By the places he had been. By the people connected to him. Even her.

Without being in it, he gave my world definition.

He was the reason I came back. The reason I stayed within stone throwing distance, and in the end, he was the reason I left.

He came back into the picture. But not for me. For her. Slayer.

It hurt too much to have him so close for all the wrong reasons. He sharpened the resolution of every day I viewed until each one was like a razor cutting into me. Every instant, every second, every moment carved itself onto my mind, leaving deep etchings in their wake.

After that, the purgatory of being away from him was welcome.

I left. Ran. Until my world began to blur and there was nothing left of him but a blip on the radar screen.

//when I need to wipe my face

I use the back of my hand

and I like to take up space

just because I can//

The dress sense hasn't changed since the last time I came.

Than again, I don't think it ever changed.

All blacks and dark colors of material and styles that just don't match. Velvet over cotton? And that hair that tries so desperately to be stylish and ends up pointy and deformed, yet god forbid anyone touches it.

The dark billowing coat and the permanent frown are still there as well.

And yet every time I see him, I expect something else.

//and you are so lame

you always disappoint me

it's kinda like our running joke

but it's really not funny//

There is no way he can see me, but I know he feels me.

I'm on a fire escape maybe a block from where he's fending off demons with those sidekicks of his. The cheerleader and the ex-watcher and that tall black kid he picked up somewhere or other.

It surprises me that they're still alive. It feels like I've been without him a century. But then time without him always passed slowly.

The fight doesn't last long. Those sidekicks of his have picked up some tricks since the last time I clocked in. A pack of Rhedig demons is not an easy match, but they have them down in record time. Maybe it has been awhile after all.

The clean up is quick and efficient. Angel stands apart from the rest while they work. His eyes search the surrounding vicinity, but he can't see me. Not yet.

Once they're done, he dismisses them quickly, telling them he has something to take care of. I can't hear him, but I know those are the words out of his mouth. He's nothing if not predictable. And his lackeys know better than to question him.

//I care less and less

what other people think//

I swing down from the fire escape with a smooth jump and watch as he approaches.

His gait is precisely measured and expression is carefully contrived.

"Spike," he says. It's not a question or a greeting, it's a statement of fact.

I swagger out of the shadows."Peaches," I reply, lighting up a cigarette.

"Those things will kill you," he tells me. Humor never was his best suit.

"No, you already did that,"I tell him frankly, taking a long draw and blowing a smooth line of smoke into the air above me.

His eyes darken. I can practically feel his soul being tortured and the guilt rising in him like a wave. It makes my stomach turn.

"What's this about, Spike?" he asks me.

I shrug. "Bored," I tell him. "Remembered what a crazy party animal you are." My nonchalance is not lost on him. He didn't need to ask that question in the first place.

We both know my filthy, dirty ,little secret: I need him.

I always have. Those years when he first turned me, when he taught me, when he made me who I am, when we hunted and fucked and killed and fucked and bathed in blood for days. He was the other half of me. He made me everything with him, and nothing without him.

And then that moronic bitch fed him a gypsy and I lost him forever.

When he came back he wasn't who he used to be. Who I needed him to be. And once he got that damn soul back, that took him from me in the first place, all he could give me was his pity and his fucking compassion.

He couldn't be who I wanted him to be, who I needed him to be.

But I still needed *him*.I still do.

But he wouldn't dare call me on it.

//I just want you to live up to

the image of you I create

I see you and I'm so unsatisfied

I see you and I dilate//

"Let's go," he tells me and just like that, he leads me back to my motel room.

God knows how he knows which motel room I'm staying in. He doesn't tell and I don't ask. But then again, this routine is nothing new. We've been doing it for years. It's an unspoken ritual. He never asks why and I sure as hell don't overshare. But I know he knows.

The door clicks shut behind us and I'm surrounded once again by the peeling white walls, disturbed only my the standard, overwashed cotton sheets on the bed.

Only this time I'm not alone. Not in the literal sense anyway.

//so I'll walk the plank

I'll jump with a smile//

I make the first move as always, knowing that he'd never dare presume.

I yank him to me by his collar and press my mouth against his, hard. His mouth opens immediately in response, but not to receive my tongue, rather to cue me to receive his.

//if I'm gonna go down

I'm do it with style//

He always dominates. Even now.

I don't submit, immediately. I never do. He sinks his hands into my hair and tugs forcefully, before I will open my mouth to him.

//and you won't see me surrender

you won't hear me confess//

But once I do, everything else seems to blur and all I can feel is the hard lines of his body pressed against mine and the feel of his tongue plundering my mouth.

//'cuz you've left me with nothing

but I've worked with less//

Our jackets are the first to go, almost without our notice.

By the time their gone, the pace has reached a desperate level. We're devouring each other, teeth making tiny cuts, tongues dueling and lips roughly courting each other. We're slipping in and out of gameface, but we're too caught up to notice when we're one or the other.

The rest of our clothes barely survive as we tear them from each other's bodies, desperate to feel the blissful mindlessness that comes with skin to skin contact.

And then finally, naked and tangled with one another, we tumble to the bed. Flesh that has no body temperature feels heated and the proximity and the friction drives us both slowly insane.

Mouths and hands roam randomly, reaching for any contact that can be made, savoring each touch, imprinting it permanently in my memory.

And just when the sensations become almost too much, strong hands grasp me and turn me, and I feel him at my entrance. Sinking his fangs into my neck, he thrusts into me, his pace painfully slow.

Then the fangs sink deeper into my flesh, piercing the skin and as I feel my blood flow rapidly into him, his thrusts become more like wild bucks and I scream as we both come.

His body drapes over me limply for a long moment, before he withdraws completely, fangs and all, and rolls to the side of me, panting empty breaths.

He does not speak and neither do I. Finally, he closes his eyes, and after a long silence, I know he is asleep.

//and I learn every room long enough

to make it to the door

and then I hear it click shut behind me//

I watch him in the yellow glow of the motel room lights.

His pale skin seems to glow a peculiar shade of gold - a tint that my own has never held. His dark lashes fan out across his cheeks leaving tiny shadows in their wake. His hair is no longer stiff and ugly, but ruffled like that of a toddler just come in from play.

The lines of his body and face are relaxed and somehow vulnerable, something he never is when he is awake. His face holds no expression and his eyes are not open so I don't have to see the regret or the guilt or the compassion there.

He is truly beautiful when he sleeps.

//when I say you sucked my brain out

the English translation

is that I am in love with you

And like every time before, I wonder what would happen if I stayed.

What would he say when he awoke? Would he smile or would he frown in confusion or irritation? What would happen if I confessed? If I admitted that I needed him still and asked him to never let go? Would he? Would he accept me out of pity or out of need or not at all?

I turn back to him once I have dressed. I pull my duster on and make for the door, but before I pull it shut behind me, I spare him one final glance.

He looks so peaceful.

So perfect. Like I remember him. Like I wish he could be again.

//but I don't use words like love

'cuz words like that don't matter

but don't look so offended

you know, you should be flattered//

I am so tempted in that moment to crawl back in that bed and wrap myself around him, pressing against him until I felt as though I were almost a part of him, inseparable.

But the moment passes and I let go.

He can never be what I need. Not anymore.

I will leave, without a word, without a note, and find a motel just like this one, with peeling white painted walls and standard blue sheets - exactly the same as this nowhere, except that it's that much further away from him.

The days will begin to blur into each other again, and I will sink into the amorphous nothingness until he is but a tiny blip on my radar screen.

Until one day, the need will well up in me again, desperate for completion and I will come back and be with him for a brief moment, just to see if I can make a different decision at the door.

//the world is my oyster

and I know that I'm better

I pull the door closed behind me and stride off into the night.

The shadows blur with the darkness as I go.

x-------------------------------------------------------------------x

"Dilate" by Ani DiFranco,Lyrics:

life used to be life-like

now it's more like show-biz

I wake up in the night

and I don't know where the bathroom is

and I don't know what town I'm in

or what sky I'm under

and I wake up in the darkness and I

don't have the will anymore to wonder

everyone has a skeleton

and a closet to keep it in

every song has a you

a you that the singer sings to

and you're it this time

baby, you're it this time

when I need to wipe my face

I use the back of my hand

and I like to take up space

I care less and less

you always disappoint me

it's kinda like our running joke

but it's really not funny

I just want you to live up to

the image of you I create

I see you and I'm so unsatisfied

I see you and I dilate

so I'll walk the plank

I'll jump with a smile

if I'm gonna go down

I'm do it with style

and you won't see me surrender

you won't hear me confess

'cuz you've left me with nothing

but I've worked with less

and I learn every room long enough

to make it to the door

and then I hear it click shut behind me

and every key works differently

and the forgetting defines me

yeah, that's what defines me

when I say you sucked my brain out

the English translation

is that I am in love with you

but I don't use words like love

'cuz words like that don't matter

but don't look so offended

you know, you should be flattered

I wake up in the night

in some big hotel bed

my hands grope for the light

my hands grope for my head