The Adventures of Captain Peroxide and Deadboy
The Angel/Spike Zone of the BtVS Writer's Guild
Title: The Perfect Cure
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Info: loosely based on a challenge Alita sent to a list.
For: Donna, for the beta. Kissu!
Summary: Spike helps Angel with his insomnia
The door to the Hyperion hotel burst open violently. The intruder growled
and threw his two handed axe at the floor, stalking inside. It skidded along
the parquetry with a squeal, marking it and leaving a trail of gore and
other substances best left unidentified in its wake. He tramped upstairs
with a frightening resolve. Reaching room 214, he once again barged through the door, enjoying making it slam once he'd entered.
The blond lying on the bed didn't look up from the magazine he was reading.
"Out of decaf, pet?"
Angel's response was to throw his right shoe -- quickly followed by his left
-- at the younger vampire.
Spike ducked his head gracefully. "You're a suck shot when you're angry,
mate."
The bathroom door slammed shut behind Angel. Spike looked up, his eyebrow slightly raised, mildly concerned with his sire's foul mood. There wasn't a lot he could do now, though, having heard the lock click into place, and the shower start. The blond lay back on crossed arms, closed his eyes and waited.
Half an hour later, the dark-haired vampire emerged from the bathroom. Spike opened one eye and immediately detected the change in attitude. Angel trudged out looking raggedly worn out and pissed off, but no longer shoe-throwing angry. Hair wet and unusually flat, Angel wore only the bottoms of his pajamas, the shirt hung over his arm.
Spike sat crosslegged on the bed and cocked his head to the side, looking up
at his sire quizzically.
"Hard day?"
"Hard *decade*," Angel responded, squeezing the bridge of his nose in a tired manner as he sat on the edge of the bed heavily. "Today was just more of a bitch than usual,"
Spike nodded, his face coming as close to sympathetic as it could ever get
whenever dealing with Angel's self-flagellating superhero quest for
redemption.
"Wanna sleep?"
"Can't," Angel whined, almost pathetically.
Usually after a trying day Angel would fall asleep straight away and be out
for a good ten hours, before waking as fresh as a newly risen vamp the next
day. However, very occasionally, he was stricken with a particular
emotionally-induced insomnia that prevented proper rest. It made Angel get
cranky and irritable until he practically passed out from exhaustion, and woke up ten hours later usually in a crappier mood than what he'd first gone
to bed with.
Spike hated when that happened. It just wasn't productive to not getting the
unliving spit beaten out of him. Also, he did feel sorry for the old sod. A little.
"Lie down," he instructed the dark-haired vampire, moving out of the center
of the bed. Angel glanced at him. Spike's face brooked no argument, so not
without effort, the older man crawled up the bed.
"Face down," the blond corrected when Angel lay on his back. Angel raised
his eyebrow a little as he obeyed.
"Spike," he began. "I'm not really in the mood foohohoooorrrwhat are you
doing?!" Angel's voice hitched as he felt something warm and wet run down
his shoulderblades to pool at the small of his back.
"Stealing a Winnebago," Spike replied, capping the bottle of massage oil and
placing it back in the bedside drawer. The younger vampire threw one leg
over his sire's outstretched form, resting his weight on Angel's upper
thighs, looking over the pale expanse of back.
"I'm serious, Williiiaaahhh.." Angel lost the power to coherently finish his
thoughts a second time as strong fingers began work massaging his aching
muscles. Firm pressure on the ridges of his spine aligned the vertebra,
releasing much of the tightness in his lower back. The dark-haired vampire
groaned into the pillow, his tension being worked away slowly but surely by
the deft hands of his childe. Gradually Angel became aware that Spike was
talking to him. He concentrated on what the blond was saying with what small percentage of his mind that wasn't totally devoted to the production of
incoherent mumblings.
"...a glade on the edge of a wood. Tall oaks and firs cast long shadows on
the ground. The air is crisp and clear, with that cool bite in it that comes
from being close to the mountains...."
Spike's voice was like molasses, syrupy and soothing. Words rolled from his
tongue, inventing the most peaceful and relaxing place in the world. Angel
murmured encouragement as the blond continued painting an exquisite
landscape with his imagination, moving hands up to work the stress out of
the older vampire's upper back.
"...birds sing softly from their vantage points high in the surrounding
trees..."
The younger vampire's hands never stopped moving over the dips and hollows of Angel's back, sliding with ease due to the oil. The constant movement heated it slightly, warming the dark-haired man's skin. He felt as though he was melting into the mattress.
"...in the distance, water cascades down the side of a sheer rockface,
filling the air with the sound of rushing water..."
Walking his fingers up Angel's spine, Spike reached the concrete blocks of
tension that were his sire's shoulders. Kneading firmly, Spike moved to
balance his weight on both knees resting on either side of Angel's waist,
all the while continuing speaking, his voice taking on a somewhat hypnotic
quality.
"...the water runs into a stream that passes right by your feet..."
Angel groaned, feeling his anxiety slowly drain away. He could picture
everything Spike described, down to the tiniest detail.
"...it is clear, so translucent you can see the rocks that make up the
bed..."
The older man moaned softly, and Spike's fingers kept working their magic.
"...can see your arms elbow-deep..."
Spike's voice purred, his honeyed words soothing the aches of a million
little injuries.
"...hands holding someone under the surface..."
With perfect clarity, the image of bright blue eyes open, surprised flit
into his mind. Mouth open in indignantly, bubbles furiously bursting on the
surface in futile attempts to breath. Brown hair fanned out from the
arrogantly attractive face. Angel serenely held Lindsey under as he
screamed.
Spike ceased his massage and leant forward. "There now... feeling better?"
The only response he received was a gentle snore from his sleeping sire.
The blond grinned and flipped his leg back over Angel's body, lying down
next to the soundly slumbering vampire. After wiping oily hands on the
bedspread, Spike picked up his magazine and flipped to the page he'd last
been reading.
Sleep wasn't that hard to induce. You just needed the right motivation.
~fin