An Eclectic Tongue

Less and More Than Friends 3/5: I Left So Much Behind

2010-08-16T17:23:22Z

Title: Less and More Than Friends: I Came So Far For Beauty
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Angel(us)/Spike,Angel(us)/Willow, Spike/Willow
Warning: Non-con, drugging
Summary: Spike tries to put Drusilla's plan into action.
A/N: Written for my ever encouraging beta, velvetwhip, who writes and corrects like a dream. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't still be trying to write.

Spike was pleasantly surprised when Willow didn't faint. While it would have made transporting her easier, it would have also made him think less of her in the long run. However, he could see in her eyes that she was trying to come up with a way to escape and that just would not do.

“Now, pet, are you going to be a good girl, or are you going to make a lot of noise and bring your parents out here so I have to kill them?”

Her eyes widened and she shook her head, but whatever she said was muffled by his hand, so he uncovered her mouth, sliding his hand to her throat, trusting that her love for her parents would keep her quiet.

“I-I'll be a good girl, just please, just, just, don't kill anybody.”

He slid his hand back behind her head, leaned his forehead against hers, and smiled.

“Now I can't promise a lot, but – if you behave – I can promise that no one else has to get involved. Just a bit of business between you and me, little girl, and then I'm out of this town for good.”

He took her small nod and slight whimper to mean she was on board with the plan – well, what she thought the plan was. What the little chit didn't know wouldn't cause her to panic and test his patience. Pulling back, he pressed a quick kiss to her forehead while reaching into his coat pocket.

“Little pressie from Dru. I haven't forgotten that you're the same witchlet in training who shoved a soul down Angelus's throat and I'm not all that eager to have one shoved down mine.”

He held up an antique-looking necklace, letting it swing gently in front of her face.

“This is where you start being a good girl. Slip this on for me right quick and promise not to try any of your tricksy mojo on me. Have to warn ya, if you do, this is going to give you one hell of a nasty shock.”

After she slipped on the necklace, he grabbed one of her hands in his and dragged her through the same backyards he had used to get to her house. She was silent during their walk as well as the car trip, quietly chewing on her nails and stealing glances at him.

Not trusting the girl in his car alone, even for the length of time it would take him to make his way to her door, he forced her to crawl across the seat and exit through the driver's side door. Though she looked confused when he opened the trunk and pulled out a bulging garment bag, she still remained silent. Pocketing the keys, Spike entertained thoughts of how he could get her to talk again. There was nothing worse than a boring companion.

Pulling her along behind him like a misbehaving child, he strode into the house and quickly up the stairs to the master bedroom. A quick pull on her arm sent her stumbling into the room itself while he tossed the garment bag on the bed.

“Right then, let's get this show on the road. Strip.”

Eyes wide, Willow quickly started backing up, holding her hands in front of her uselessly.

“Now, now, just wait. Just hold on. I'll behave. I won't scream or try to escape – or any of that stuff. Just no stripping and nothing that goes along with stripping. Alright?”

Now there was a bit of backbone. Looked like he wasn't stuck with a boring companion after all. However, as much as he usually relished a good fight from a meal, she was supposed to be more than that, so he was going to have to lay out the rules before things got out of hand. Spike was in front of Willow in an instant, one hand fisted in her hair, forcing her to tilt her head back.

“Here's how it's going to be, kitten: I'll tell you what to do. You do whatever I say. In return, I won't hurt you any more than absolutely necessary. If you disobey me, if you try to escape – if you fight me at all, Red – I will hurt you. Now I'm gonna enjoy hurting you, 'm not gonna lie 'bout that, but it doesn't have to happen. Understand?”

At Willow's frantic nodding and quiet moan, Spike continued.

“Now just to be nice, and because I think you're a girl who does best when she's got all the facts laid out for her, I'll explain what's going on. You're going to strip off your clothes...”

When it looked as if the girl in front of him would panic, he raised his free hand and put a finger over her lips, all the while fighting the urge to give in and hurt her just a bit to get his point across. Drusilla had been very clear on how she wanted things done and this was a test for him, one he was determined to pass. So instead of inflicting pain as he wanted, he tried his best to calm the girl.

“Shh, shush, it's all right, just listen. You're going to take off your clothes, then I'm gonna run you a nice warm bubble bath. That sounds nice, don't it? Now, I'm going to be in there with you, just to make sure you don't try anything foolish. But the only thing that's going to happen in there is you're gonna get a nice bath. Then, after you're all done with your bath, we're going to pick out a pretty dress for you to wear. That should be fun, right? A pretty dress for a pretty girl.”

When it looked like Willow wouldn't fight him anymore, he eased himself away from her. Telling her to take off her clothes, he opened the garment bag on the bed so he could find the silk robe that Drusilla had picked out. As much as he wanted to take his time and savor the first site of his new playmate naked, he knew it would only get her all nervous, stuttering, and worked up again and he didn't have the patience to deal with it. However, he did take more time than he really needed just so he could watch her out of the corner of his eye.

While she wasn't stripping to entice, there was something appealing in the shaking hands and wide, averted eyes that appealed to the desire to corrupt that his time with Angelus, Drusilla, and Darla had instilled in him. He quickly pushed aside the momentary regret he felt at the thought of her turning shredding any innocence and modesty she had.

Seeing Willow hesitate to remove her underwear, he turned his head toward her and lifted an eyebrow. Apparently, it was enough of a warning for her. After she was naked and he had helped her into the robe, he led her to the bathroom and told her to take a seat on the commode. Taking off his duster and throwing it across the counter, he started the bath running and gathered the soap, shampoo and conditioner.

True to his word, nothing happened in the bathroom except for Willow getting clean. Though, much to her obvious discomfort, he did insist on washing her hair himself. He could see that she was relieved when he didn't try and dry her, instead letting her do it herself. It was easy to allow her these little things because he knew what was coming next. Over the years Drusilla had taught him how to turn dressing a woman into a seduction and he was sure she had picked out dresses that would fit a seduction beautifully. Of course, knowing his dark goddess, she had added a little something extra to the clothes to help Willow get into the mood.

Standing her at the foot of the bed in front of a full length mirror, Spike began dressing Willow, keeping an eye out for the tell tale signs that whatever drug Drusilla had likely used on the garments was taking effect. It was when he began tightening the laces of the corset that Spike noticed the flush beginning to spread across Willow's skin and the increase in her heart rate. Finishing the double bow at her back, he looked over her shoulder to see her eyes in the mirror. It was obvious from the confusion filling her eyes that the poor girl didn't understand what was happening to her.

Running his fingertips lightly up her back, over her shoulders and then softly down her arms, Spike leaned forward and whispered in her ear.

“Shh, Spike's got ya. I'll take care of everything, don't you worry your pretty little head.”

Taking her hand, he slowly drew her to the bed and sat down, pulling her onto his lap.

He could see she wanted to protest, wanted to somehow stop his hands from sliding along her thighs and slowly gathering up the hem of her shift. He knew, however, that it would take more than her mortal willpower to fight her own body's reaction. While he didn't have the gift like his wicked love – he couldn't completely bewitch someone's mind – Angelus had brought forth and nurtured the ability in him to focus so completely on someone that they couldn't look away. Add to that the drug Drusilla had thoughtfully provided and the little witch in his arms didn't stand a chance.

His hands came to rest on her bare hips, lifting and resettling her on his lap which forced her to hands to his shoulders to keep her from falling. He began to subtly rock her hips, applying a teasing pressure where it would wreak the most havoc on her crumbling defenses.

“That's it, love, nice and slow.”

Moving his hands further up her body, he couldn't help but groan when she began to move with a little more force, rocking her hips in a slight circle.

“There you go, Red. You're body already knows how to get what it wants. Daddy's got everything you need, just let yourself take it.”

“Come on boy, show Daddy you know how to take what you want.”

Pushing down onto the body below him, William could feel Angelus sink even deeper until their hips were flush against each other. As he raised back up, he couldn't help but groan with feel of the slow drag out. When he heard the responding rumble of laughter, he took a breath to smart off and promptly let it out in another groan when he felt Angelus wrap one hand around his unflagging erection and begin to slowly stroke.

“There's my sweet whore. So tight and responsive, can't keep anything to yourself. Let me feel how much you love it.”

The sudden intrusion of a long buried memory did little, if anything, to take away from the pleasure of the moment. To be honest, it added even more of a perverse thrill to what he was doing. After all, wasn't he taking what Angelus wanted most, what Angelus had failed to take himself? The idea added a bit of urgency to his actions, left him aching to see her come undone, knowing that Angelus would be enraged when he found out.

Pulling down one strap of her shift Spike placed a quick and dirty open mouthed kiss against the top of her breast before nipping and licking his way up her neck. Sliding his hand around to her rear, he pressed her more firmly against his quickly hardening arousal as he finally reached her ear.

“Just a bit harder now, sweet. You've got to work for it. Show Daddy how good you can be, show me how much you want it.”

“That's it, m'boy, ride Daddy hard as you can. Show me how much you need it, tell me.”

He can feel the strain in his thighs and the ache in his cock, but none of that can drown out of the feel of Angelus's hand holding his hips hard, pulling him down even harder. Neither can it distract from the flush of shameful pleasure with each dirty order and demeaning compliment growled into William's ear.

“Tell me, William. You know what I want to hear.”

Pulling back to look at Willow, Spike could see her pupils were blown wide and she was completely lost in the effects of the drug that had laced her clothing. With something bordering on desperation, he lunged forward again, this time toward her mouth. Barely giving thought to the fact that she was human, and therefor fragile, he let loose his frustration and need into the kiss. When he finally drew back, Willow's hands were gripped tight in his hair, and her eyes were wild and just a bit lost.

“Spike, I need – please, I want – please, Spike...”

“Please, Daddy, I need it.”

William couldn't hold back the groan when he felt Angelus's fangs sink into his neck. This was the one time he felt like he really belonged to the other vampire.

Spike was abruptly pulled out of his memories and realized Willow was still wrapped around him and his fangs were buried deep in her neck. He could feel her orgasm in the tightening of the fingers digging into his hair and hear it in the new tone of wonder in her moans.

Pulling away from her neck and the temptation of her blood, Spike inhaled the scent of Willow's freshly cleaned hair, anchoring himself into the present. It was then that he realized that he could feel Angelus coming closer. This wasn't part of the plan and, after dismissing several scenarios, he couldn't figure out a way to get out of here non-dusty and with Willow. So – again – he went with what he did best; winging it and taunting Angel.

Spike quickly rolled so that Willow was under him, legs dangling off the side of the bed, then pushed himself off her and rushed into the bathroom to grab his duster, throwing it on as he returned. He'd have plenty of time to come up with an explanation to give to Dru on the long drive back. Right now, he had to think fast on his feet if he wanted to get out of this sans a pointed wooden stake to the heart.

Hearing the other vampire enter the door downstairs, he quickly pulled Willow up by one arm and placed himself with his back to the window and his arms around the human in front of him. When Angel burst through the door, Spike had one hand resting low on Willow's stomach, the other wrapped around her neck and was whispering in her ear. His eyes, however, were quickly trained on Angel.

“Sh, it's all right, pet. I know, Angel's a bad, bad man, ruining all our fun.”

Apparently, shock at the scene could only hold Angel immobile for so long. When Spike saw him make a move, he jerked Willow back against him, causing her to give a slightly confused and obviously drugged groan.

“Spike,”

“Ah, ah, daddy-dearest. No speaking out of turn.”

Smirking at the growl of frustration coming from Angel, Spike started gentling rubbing Willow's stomach in small circles. Just enough for her drugged body to react and Angel to notice.

“Did you come to save the poor, defenseless witch from the big, bad vampire? I'm sure she'll be very grateful. She might even give her big, strapping hero a thank you kiss.”

Turning his face further toward Willow and sliding his hand firmly down between her thighs, Spike continued in a low and throaty voice.

“Would you do that for Daddy? Give the hero a big kiss? That's not all that he wants from you, sweet girl.”

“Spike, enough.” He could hear the anger building in Angel's voice and see it on his face, but he was on a roll now. Applying more pressure from the hand still rubbing at her center, he let the moan she gave shut Angel up for him.

“Angelus wants you to swallow away all his thoughts of redemption with that pretty little mouth, wants to smother his guilt with those creamy little tits, and lose his soul between those virginal thighs. Would you let him do that, plum?

“I know what you're thinkin', though: 'He doesn't want those things, he's one of us!' I know he's got most of your lot fooled, but you're smarter than that, Red, I know you are. You've seen it in his eyes, haven't you? Seen that hunger when he's lurking outside your window watching you get undressed, following you home and hanging on your every word. Underneath that brooding shell, deep under that pathetic soul, he's still a demon and he still wants now what he wanted then. You might want to think on that before you come rushing outside again to meet him again.”

With a nasty smirk, Spike quickly moved both hands to Willow's back, shoved her hard at Angel, and rushed to the window.

Pausing to look back and waiting until Angel had looked up before giving a quick wink, Spike made sure he left Angel truly unsettled.

“Take real good care of our girl there, Daddy. Don't want her hurt before I see her again.”

Without waiting for Angel's reaction, Spike dove out the window and hit the ground running. He had managed to leave the white hats behind to clean up the mess he had made, left Angel off balance and maybe even a bit paranoid about his potential return, and had possibly even made the little girl distrustful of the gelled wonder. All told, not a bad ending in his book.

Granted, he hadn't really done what his wicked princess had sent him here to do. She would be in a state when he came back without a new little sister in tow and he wasn't really looking forward to that. However, given enough time and torture, he was sure he could convince Drusilla that the chaos left in his wake was more than enough closure for them both.

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Less and More Than Friends 2/5: I Came So Far For Beauty

2010-08-09T17:26:42Z

Title: Less and More Than Friends: I Came So Far For Beauty
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRT (so far)
Pairing: Angel(us)/Willow, referenced Angel(us)/Spike
Warning: none really
Summary: Spike comes to town on personal business.
A/N: Written for my ever encouraging beta, velvetwhip, who writes and corrects like a dream. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't still be trying to write.

Spike moved quickly and silently through the garden of the Crawford street mansion. While it wasn't exactly necessary to hide from good old Angel, the look on his face when Spike managed to sneak up on him was always worth the effort. Now if he had a bit more patience, he'd wait until he'd gotten what he had come to town for before confronting his absentee grandsire. Patience, however, had never been, and probably never would be, one of Spike's strong suits.

Slipping into the main room, he caught sight of Angel brooding by the fireplace, some pretentious and snooty book forgotten in his hand. Moving closer, Spike caught a scent he half remembered from objects Angelus had brought back to the mansion after a night of stalking and also from one memorable meeting in a school library. While he couldn't see why the little girl would forgive the vampire that had planned to turn her and suck the world into hell, it was her he could smell in the room. Apparently, he had underestimated the stupidity of white hats.

The scent was relatively fresh, but she had been here alone. Now, it could be something perfectly innocent, but he had known Angelus too long, and vampires didn't change all that much – not at their core. Soul or no soul, he could see the signs of Angelus playing out a long game on some poor unsuspecting chit – even when the overly dramatic vamp couldn't see it himself. Stepping further into the room, anticipating how much fun this was going to be, Spike let the glee show in his voice.

“Someone's been a naughty, naughty boy.”

He was disappointed in how surprised Angel was to see him. There had been a time when he could never have gotten this close to his mentor undetected. This wasn't the same demon he'd almost worshiped – not the same vampire he'd spilled blood, sweat, and various other bodily fluids with. This was a hollow shell; not worth the effort of taunting. A flirtatious grin tilted his lips and an amused twinkle entered his eye as he amended his thought: almost not worth the effort.

“What were you doing with that sweet little morsel alone in this big, empty mansion? I'm sure her friends and that – ahh – fatherly watcher would just love to know your intentions.”

He couldn't suppress a chuckle when Angel's fists clenched and he heard a growl rumble up from his chest.

“Spike. What are you doing here? Drusilla get tired of you again?”

A sharp stab of resentment, pain, and anger welled up in Spike's chest. A large part of him wanted nothing more than to go at Angel fists and fangs bared. However, that wouldn't get him what he really wanted. Taking a deep breath, he let out a chuckle and spread a hand over his chest.

“That hurt, mate.”

Dropping his hand back to his side, he strolled past Angel, lazily threw himself into a sprawl on the couch, and began to root around his pockets for a smoke and a lighter. Angel slowly followed him, apparently deciding this was a talking visit, not a fighting one. The only problem was, Spike really didn't have a conversation planned. Taking a drag from his now lit cigarette, he shrugged his shoulders and went with that he did best: he would wing it.

“You know, I don't get you. Is the girl really worth staying in this bloody town for? S'not like she's really going to give you the time, now is it? You killed her boyfriend and tormented her; humans get upset over that kind of thing. They don't get it like we do.”

Turning his head to stare at the fireplace, Spike changed his tone from condescending to self-pitying, deciding in a split second to take a risk. After all, the bigger the risk, the bigger the reward.

“Of course, who am I to say anything about it? Here I am, still beating my head against a brick wall over Dru, jumpin' through any hoop she wants me to. Why I'm here, ain't it? She said I needed to come back to Sunnyhell. Something 'bout needin' closure or some such nonsense.”

While it may have looked like Spike was lost in his own little monologue, he was actually keeping a close eye on Angel. It was a dangerous game he was playing, talking about why he was here, the whole time making Angel think it was all about him. While he wouldn't be around to see the ponce beat himself up over it, he would have fun imagining the dawning horror when Angel realized that he could have saved Willow and hadn't. The thought alone was enough to bring a maniacal smile to Spike's face.

“So that's why I'm here, Daddy, to tie up loose ends and make everything right in my princess's eyes.”

Angel had tensed up when Spike called him Daddy. It had obviously brought back memories of games they used to play when the days were too long and they were both far too bored, Drusilla clapping her hands and squealing as she watched. There was a reason Spike had almost worshiped him; Angelus had been damn good at whatever he put his mind to, especially with a willing and eager pupil.

And he'd been willing and ever so eager, hadn't he. He learned every sly look, soft touch, and cunning pose. Angelus had taught him the right tone to use and how to spot the chink in a person's armor and then exploit it. The rewards for success were spectacular, but the punishments for failure had their own appeal. The slice of a well handled knife carving his sins into the skin of his back, or entire days spent hard and wanting, tied to a bed and not allowed to come while Angelus and Dru tormented him. The memory alone was oftentimes enough to have him on the edge and ready to go in seconds. School was out, however, and it was time the teacher learned a lesson or two.

Giving him a disappointed once over, Spike flicked his still burning cigarette into the fireplace. His days of longing for Angelus to return, to focus his attention on him were gone.

“You're not the demon I need to talk to. Haven 't been him in a long time, now have ya?”

Shaking his head as if to clear it, he gave Angel a smile calculated to leave him on edge and wary.

“Ta, love. I've got some last minute things to pick up for the princess, then I'll be out of your town and out of your overly-gelled hair.”

He was almost through the door when Angel's voice stopped him.

“Whatever you're here for, Spike, get it and get out quick. Buffy may have worked with you before, but that doesn't mean she won't stake you on sight.”

Without turning back, Spike chuckled and replied, “Why, Angel, it almost sounds like you're worried about your little boy. I'm touched.”

Before Angel could reply, Spike was out the door and had it closed behind him.

As he got behind the wheel of his DeSoto, Spike considered taking Angel's advice. He could just grab Willow and leave town with her. However, Drusilla had been very specific on how she wanted her new sister turned. She had left some of it up to Spike – which dress Willow would wear and how much of their plans he could reveal to the little human – but it had to be done in Sunnydale. Luckily for Spike, there were a few empty homes he could choose from so they could be alone without any pesky do-gooders interrupting, including a very nice one at the edge of town he had decided was perfect for his plans.

Having parked his car a few blocks from her house, Spike made his way through several backyards until he reached the patio outside Willow's room. As eager as he was to start in on his fun, he still couldn't resist stopping and just watching her. It had taken him some time to really see what had Angelus so enthralled with the little redhead. In all honesty, he hadn't really gotten it until he'd actually been in the library helping them to plot Angelus's downfall.

Spike can feel Angelus's newest obsession at the end of the table radiating sheer terror. What he feels underneath her fear, however, is what makes his eye teeth practically itch to drop down.

It's power. Nothing refined, sharpened, or honed – but power nonetheless. It calls out to an instinct that came with his demon soul, the instinct to gather power and make it is own. He's so very tempted to abandon his plans all together and simply snag the girl and run off. He can already picture what a beauty she'll be, all corrupted and dark, brimming with power and all his.

The thought naturally leads to his dark goddess and the reason he came here in the first place. As tempting as the potential powerhouse is, Drusilla is his destiny; always has been and always will be.

Spike had gone through with his plan and the girl had remained with her friends, unharmed. It had been a mistake on his part, one that Dru had sent him here to correct.

There were countless ways to lure an unsuspecting young thing outside at night but sometimes the simplest ways were best. As he reached the edge of the pool of light spilling from the doorway, he made sure to lightly tap a potted plant with the side of his foot. The plan worked better than he had thought it would; Willow immediately threw open the doors and stepped outside, starting to talk even before she had fully crossed the threshold.

“Angel, I'm sorry I said...”

Spike had been in motion from the moment she was through the barrier, so his surprise at hearing Angel's name didn't stop him from grabbing her by the arms. By the time Willow had registered that not only was it not Angel outside her house but that she was in danger, Spike had already maneuvered both of her hands behind her back and was holding them with one of his, while his other hand went to her mouth.

Leaning in to where her neck and shoulder met, he inhaled deeply, enjoying the scent of fear coming off her. He let a soft growl rumble out of his chest and chuckled at the small whimper she gave in response. Eyes closed in near bliss, he lifted his head slightly, letting it rest against the side of hers, his mouth near her ear.

“Sorry, Red, Angelus isn't here right now. I'm sure he'll be so disappointed he's missing all the fun we're gonna have together, though.”

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Less and More Than Friends 1/5: Dance Me On and On

2010-06-12T23:21:26Z

Title: Less and More Than Friends: Dance Me On and On
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRT (so far)
Pairing: Angel(us)/Willow
Warning: none really
Summary: Under threat from enemies old and new, Angel battles his darker impulses as he and Willow become something other than friends. (Sequel to A Brief Courtship)
A/N: Written for my ever encouraging beta, velvetwhip, who writes and corrects like a dream. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't still be trying to write.

He knew that at one time he had loved Buffy. He could clearly remember the first time he had seen her, remember the urge he'd had to save her from anything that could hurt her. It had to be love. Only love could make him want to save someone who not only didn't need his help, but would likely end his existence if he approached her.

“His name is Scott. He's a nice, solid guy. He makes me happy...
and that's what I need: someone I can count on.”

Listening to her drone on and on in an awkward and obvious attempt to make him jealous, though; that was making it hard to really believe that he'd loved her. He needed this conversation to be over before he did something he might regret. The only thing he could think of that would both get her to leave faster and not raise any suspicion that he wasn't still a perfectly trained lap-dog was to just stare at her with a pained expression.

Apparently, he did pained well enough to make her uncomfortable, because she left shortly after. Unfortunately, the damage had already been done. Until Buffy had arrived bearing blood from the local butcher's, he had convinced himself that he wouldn't visit Willow's house tonight, wouldn't watch her from the shadows like a pathetically love-struck stalker. However, his frustration and disgust with the Buffy situation had torn away at his will to fight that urge. Slipping out into the darkness, he found his way unerringly toward his nightly haunt. He was relieved when he didn't sense Faith anywhere around the Rosenberg house.

Lately, Sunnydale's newest slayer had been sticking very closely to Willow. While he could only mourn the passing of Kendra in a very abstract way, all the while bemused by the irony that she had escaped being Drusilla's kill only to die in a plane crash on the way home, he did regret that her death had brought forth a slayer with such a blatant interest his witch.

When he stepped onto the patio outside Willow's room, he was shocked to find her waiting for him. He was used to her pretending as if she didn't know he was there watching her every move. This time, however, she opened the French doors, looked directly at him, and then turned and walked back into the room. Unable to take his eyes off her, he silently moved to her door and watched as she slipped behind a folding screen near the wall.

Trying not to stare at her silhouette on the thin paper, Angel let his eyes wander around Willow's room, seeing what had changed and what was still the same. Finally, he noticed a pile of clothes on her bed that he assumed were there for her to try on. Quickly steering his mind away from that potentially dangerous line of thought, he settled his eyes on the doorway in front of him. He knew there was a barrier there, knew that there wasn't a way he could get past it, but he still couldn't resist the urge to try.

Just as his hand reached out, fingertips gently testing the give of the magic at her threshold, she stepped out wearing a red and white dress that didn't truly flatter her. Given her expression, she wasn't really that comfortable in it, either.

“It's for the Homecoming dance. I'm going alone, but I should still look nice, you know? I wasn't going to go at all, but then Buffy was very persuasive. She said that Faith would be going, and if I didn't go too, she'd feel like a fifth wheel, and no one deserves that, not even overly aggressive and pushy slayers who could spend a little less time hitting on everyone around them. Not that I have a problem with sexually aggressive females or people who are gay or bisexual. I just have a problem with people who don't know when uncomfortable babbling means stop.”

While part of him, as always, marveled at her ability to talk so very much and so very quickly while still needing to breath, another part was stunned by the fact that she was talking to him. Not only talking to him, but acting as if they were friends, as if he wasn't the same creature who had brutally tormented her and killed the boy she loved – the boy she should be going to this dance with – less than two months ago.

Realizing that, although she hadn't actually asked for his opinion, she was waiting for him to say something, he did his best to be as honest as he could while not damaging this tentative peace she was offering.

“It looks... all right.”

Picking up another outfit, Willow headed back behind the screen in silence. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, so Angel let his mind wander and a fantasy take hold, just as he would have had she not opened her doors tonight.

They are in his room at the mansion and she's getting ready for some party Drusilla insisted they throw. Teasingly, she refuses to let him see her slip in and out of the dresses she's trying on for his approval, knowing how much anticipation it was building in him. His sweet Willow knows so well how to play at being an innocent for him.

When she came out again, she was wearing a black, full length dress with some flower and sunshine theme. More relaxed, but still unwilling to be blunt and potentially hurt her feelings or bring this surreal scene to an end, Angel nodded his head and simply said, “Nice.”

Now leaning against her door jamb, he trailed his fingers idly along the invisible barrier separating him from her room and watched her slip behind the screen with another dress. While she still didn't say anything, this time she was humming quietly to herself and Angel was once again back in his room where watching her get ready for a party, the tune she was humming transformed into some classical record he was playing for background noise.

He was so engrossed in the fantasy that it took him a few moments to realize that she actually had stepped back into view wearing a strapless, black, full-length dress. At his prolonged silence, Willow gave a small smile and rolled her eyes.

“Let me guess. 'Okay'?”

Straightening up, Angel slipped both hands into his pockets to stop himself from making a fool of himself by trying to reach through the door to touch her.

“I was going to say 'perfect', actually.”

It was her small smile and blush which haunted him the next day. He knew it wasn't wise to indulge himself like this. She was better off pretending he wasn't there, better off not thinking they could be anything like friends. Friendship led to trust, and trust led to dark school hallways where little girls trembled in the arms of monsters still believing that their friend wouldn't actually hurt them.

He would hurt her, though. He couldn't fool himself into thinking otherwise. Even as he had talked to her through the safety of a magical barrier, in the back of his mind he was figuring out ways to get her to cross the threshold to where she had no defense against him. He wouldn't go through with it while he had the soul, of course. He'd already been shown, however, how easily he could lose that soul.

If he were wise, if he were noble, hell, if he were decent, he would stay away from her. But one thing he had never been, not as Liam, Angelus, or Angel, was decent. So he went to her again the next night.

While part of him had been hoping she would what to spend time with him again, he definitely hadn't anticipated she would look so sad as she waited for him.

Her door was open and she was sitting on the floor with her back to the bed. Knees drawn up with her arms wrapped around them, she was the picture of guilt and misery. Pulling a patio chair near the door, he sat down and waited for her to speak. He didn't have long to wait.

“I'm a horrible friend.”

Willow didn't appear to need a response from him, which was a good thing, because he didn't actually have one that went beyond automatic denial. All she really seemed to need was for Angel to sit where he was and listen as she spilled her tale of Buffy becoming obsessed with being Homecoming Queen, Cordelia roping Willow into helping her in her fight against Buffy, and somehow this being all Willow's fault. He was unclear on how that last part worked.

He was clear, however, on the fact that Willow and Xander's plan to get Buffy and Cordelia back on semi-friendly terms was doomed to failure. Putting those two in a closed space together and hoping they somehow worked it out was just asking for someone's funeral. Angel didn't have the heart to tell Willow that, so he told her that he hoped it all turned out all right, then wished her sweet dreams.

It turned out that he was wrong. Well, in a way. While the limo ride itself didn't magically make Buffy and Cordelia best friends, the part where they had to fight off various demons together then watch as two random girls shared the crown they were both fighting for did make them friendlier. Still laughing quietly over Willow's description of their disappointment, Angel didn't stop to think before he asked if she had enjoyed dancing.

He could see the sadness appear in her eyes, and felt even guiltier when he heard it in her voice as she told him she hadn't danced. He tried to tell himself that he had only asked her to dance because he wanted to chase away some of that sadness, that he didn't thrill the naïveté in her acceptance or the fulfillment of plans he'd only half formed as he was talking to her last night. As he lightly rested one hand on her waist and held one of her hands in the other, however, he didn't stop himself from imagining how easy it would be to lean down and sink his fangs into her trusting throat.

He hummed some long-forgotten melody as they swayed on her patio, peace and contentment flowing through him for the first time since he was human, almost banishing the dark fantasies. He would have stayed like that forever if he hadn't felt the approaching dawn. As he started to pull back, Willow tightened her hold on his shoulder and stared up at him, confusion clearly visible on her face.

“Angel, what are we doing?”

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AtS Fic: Sister Mouse

2010-06-10T17:50:18Z

Title: Sister Mouse
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclectic
Beta: spikesbint
Rating: FRM
Character: Drusilla and Fred, with mentions of Angel and various pairings
Warning: minor descriptions of torture.
Summary: Drusilla plays with a soon to be member of the family.
A/N: And another story I found that I forgot to post anywhere besides my personal journal. Set in season 4 of AtS

She remembers the lawyer who hated her daddy so, remembers the feel of his hand reaching under her dress and the taste of desperate hunger all around him. When she talked to grand-mummy about it later, they had both agreed that he did it to get to the Angel Beast. It's a game she used to play with Spike, and just like the angry one-handed man, he didn't know they were even playing. They'd look at her, but part of them was seeing Angelus. She didn't mind, because sometimes, when she'd look at them, she saw him as well.

It's different with this little lost lamb though. She went out looking for Angelus, but found his princess instead. And she bleeds so beautifully and almost sings in her pain. Part of Dru wonders if daddy sees her in this dark-haired girl not long out of her cave. She asked the girl that very thing once as she tasted the freshest of the lash marks. Poor little thing was so confused, so she asked if daddy ever called her his princess.

"Everyone calls me Fred."

Dru can't see daddy calling such a sweet tasting thing by such a rough name. She'd have to ask him about it when he came for them. The stars had said he'd be done dreaming soon. Then they would have such a massacre. The moon had whispered that this little mouse could be her new sister; she just had to look after her.

"Don't worry kitten, daddy will be home soon. He'll make us all a happy family."

She knows daddy's little pet is afraid now, but soon she'll understand. There are others who won't, who would try to keep her sister from finding her place in the family. They'll come looking for a lost little lamb, but they'll find a hungry lion instead. She has her sister to take care of, after all.

"Shh, no need to cry my sweet, this fairytale has a happy ending for us. Those nasty boys won't find you. I'll protect you from them."

BtVS fic: Giving in To Penance

2010-06-10T17:25:35Z

Title: Giving in To Penance
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRAO
Pairing: Spike/Willow
Summary: Willow makes up for her wrongs the only way she can. Sequel to Gabrielle's Getting His Own Back.
A/N: vaguely season 6-ish

She knew who was calling before she picked up the phone. Buffy had been gone longer than patrol usually took, so she must have gone to Spike. Willow supposed she could always ignore the ringing, or even tell him she wasn't going to come to him, but it was her fault so she didn't feel she could refuse.

Logically, she knew that it wasn't her fault that Buffy chose to take out her issues on Spike; but it was her fault she had those issues. Willow had been the one to rip her out of heaven, she had to make up for it somehow.

The first night, when Spike had taken her back to his crypt, she had thought she found someone who would listen and maybe even understand her problems. Then she heard about all that had been going on between Buffy and Spike and the guilt had started. When he leaned in and kissed her, it had suddenly clicked. She may not be able to take back what she had unthinkingly done to Buffy, but she could make up for it with Spike.

"When was the last time anyone touched you, Red? Cared for you? Wanted you?" he had asked her.

She didn't answer him, because she knew it wasn't about her; this was all about him. Every caress, every long, drawn out kiss, was one he wasn't allowed to give to Buffy. So she let him do as he pleased, let him take his time over every part of her body that caught his attention. She could have let go and enjoyed it, but somehow it wouldn't seem right. When you're doing penance, you aren't supposed to get off on it.

"You busy tonight, Red?"

It may have been a question, but both knew that there was really no doubt as to her compliance. Gathering a stake and a squirt gun of holy water, she snuck out of the house and headed toward Spike. The whole way there she couldn't help but think on her situation. Part of her was starting to look forward to Spike's calls. When it got late with no sign of Buffy, the excitement would begin bubbling up. She fought it, but each time it got worse and worse.

Easing open the door to the crypt, Willow softly called for Spike. When she didn't get an answer, she slowly walked further into the room, closing the door behind her. Suddenly there were hands on her upper arms and she was pulled back into a hard chest. Her breath left her and for a moment she almost panicked.

"Tell me you want me." Spike's voice, rough with anger and need, was at her right ear, sending a shiver down her spine.

"I want you." She barely admitted to herself that it wasn't really a lie.

"Tell me you need me." His left hand glided from her arm, across her ribs, and down to the top of her jeans. She caught her breath audibly as he opened the snap and started easing down the zipper.

"I need you." Again it was less of a lie than she would ever admit.

His hand eased down the front of her panties and dipped underneath them. As his fingers eased slowly into her, making her moan softly, his other hand was on her chin turning her head towards his. As she eagerly kissed him, her hips arched onto his probing fingers and her hand covered his, trying to add the pressure her body desperately craved.

Maybe tonight she'd just give in. Surely she had earned it just for a night? They didn't speak as he guided her down the ladder and to his bed. As he eased her down, she tried hard to think of the reasons she shouldn't let herself enjoy this. She was just so tired; tired of fighting against her need to use magic and tired of fighting what Spike brought out in her.

Closing her eyes as he eased her jeans over her hips and followed them with his mouth, she made her decision. She would give in to the sensations, and maybe if she tried hard enough she could believe it really was her he was kissing and holding. She could maybe even pretend it was her he was making love to.

Nothing Like Perfection

2010-06-10T16:39:54Z

Title: Nothing Like Perfection
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue /eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRM
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Warning: none-graphic depictions of sex... possibly bad writing. Hey, it's 6 yrs old!
Summary: They can never be gentle, not with each other.
A/N: Like my warning says, this was written 6 years ago and is set post NFA. Apparently, I only posted it at my personal journal and nowhere else. Enjoy!

It’s nothing like perfection; it’s not even happiness really. The feel of the mouth on his cock is so familiar though that it conjures up memories of the past and he can forget about those he’s recently lost and pretend it’s a simpler time. There’s no redemption, no guilt, only pleasure and pain. But these aren’t in fact simple times any more, and this isn’t the same creature he’d once molded in his own image. Any pleasure given is expected to be returned, preferably with interest. The odd part is that he no longer minds. It’s a small price to pay for what Spike gives him.

This isn’t love; it’s not even friendship really. They are family, the only thing either one has left. They still fight, but they aren’t fighting now. Now it’s just the slide of flesh against flesh as Spike makes his way up Angel’s body, the growl of crude words telling him in no uncertain terms what’s expected of him. Angel’s not passive though, not by any stretch of the imagination. His every kiss is a demand, every stroke an attack. He knows Spike’s body better than his own now, and knows just what to say to get what he wants. He knows all he has to do after patrol is give him a look and Spike is ready to go. When he wakes him up, just gruff words of want and nothing else are all that are really needed.

Every time they come together it’s a battle. They can never be gentle, not with each other. There is far too much history between them, too much bad blood. There are no soft words, only grunted demands and curses. Under it all though, there’s a bond, something close to affection. Neither examines the situation close enough to see let alone acknowledge, it. To do so would mean an end to what they have, and that’s something Angel wouldn’t be able to bear. Instead he gives his praise in strokes, and his endearments in moans. Every time he buries himself deep in Spike, he looks him in the eyes, lets him know that he’s not imagining it’s someone else. Maybe part of him is hoping something will show in those looks, but most of him won’t even admit there’s something there to show.

It’s nothing like perfection; it’s not even happiness really, but it’s what they have. It’s enough most of the time.

When Gods Collide

2010-05-01T04:52:50Z

Title: When Gods Collide
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue /eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRC
Character: Illyria, Willow (vague mention of Angel/Willow)
Warning: none
Summary: Sequel to An Ending or a Beginning. Willow has found a way to bring back Fred. Now All she has to do is convince one former god-king to go along with the plan.
A/N: Written for monicaop who requested a sequel. Sorry that Angel/Willow was just a passing mention, but hope the plotiness of it compensates!

In the end, it was easier to bind Angel's soul than it was to explain why she had researched it and how it would be done. Given that it would have taken at least three hours just to get past the why and onto the how, Willow thought it would be best to wait until the binding was done to let everyone know that she had found a way to restore Fred's soul to her body.

Besides, then she'd have to get into why there would need to be time travel, multiple Orbs of Thesulah – is that even the correct plural? – and random stinky herbs that might or might not be illegal. Yeah, silence seemed the better part of not getting stuck with giving long explanations that she really didn't feel up to giving. Besides, she was hoping to get out of letting them know that the only viable fragment off Fred's soul that Willow had been about to find had been trapped inside her own body, witnessing everything the blue menace had done.

Oh was that going to be worth major guilt points down the road. Willow hadn't even been here, but she still felt second-hand guilt.

As she hit 'buy' on the last purchase she'd need for the painfully complex group of spells that were involved, she heard the the door down in the lobby open. Yes, spells to enhance hearing might be technically cheating, but who was really going to blame her or even call her on it?

As Willow waited to hear Illyria stride past her door, she debated how necessary it would be to have it – never her, it seemed like an insult to Fred to give this thing a gender – actively participate in the spell. Of course, there was the pesky problem of first convincing the former god of a god, shaper of worlds, power and the ecstasy of death, yadda yadda yadda, that having Fred's soul completely back and sharing the body was in its best interest.

Yeah, and right after that, Willow was sure she could cook up a cure for cancer that came in a yummy candy form as well as bring about world peace.

As close as she and Angel had gotten during her year long stay, both physically and friendship wise, she still didn't know how he'd react to her bringing up Fred. Besides, she figured it would be better to get Illyria on board with the soul binding before bringing it up to anyone else. It helped that she had a secret bit of knowledge that would help out with that.

Just as she comforted herself with that thought, she heard Illyria nearing her door. Taking a deep breath and praying for courage to whatever goddess would listen, she walked to her door and opened it.

If Illyria was surprised, happy, sad, or even mildly curious at Willow popping out of her room and blocking the Blue and Mighty's path, you couldn't tell from any facial expression. Yeah, that didn't help with the confidence. Oh well, it would have been a shame to waste a surprise popping-out and not go through with the plan.

“Hey, Illyria, how ya doing? Killed any big and nasties lately?”

Barely giving her new blue friend-ish person a chance to respond – the slow blink and head tilt really didn't promise an actual response anyway – the still-nervous witch started dragging it back into the room she had just left.

“We haven't really had a chance to talk, we should change that!”

When she had gotten the door shut and Illyria was leaning in an extremely upright and non-casual way against the door, she found herself at a loss for how to work her way up to the conversation about soul-binding. Unfortunately, for the first time in her life, the power of the babble seemed to have abandoned her. Desperate, and more than a little wigged out by her silent companion's unwavering stare – did it never blink? – Willow took a page from Buffy's book and blundered on in and assumed, well more like hoped really hard, that things would all sort themselves out.

“I was going to start out slow with small talk and gradually segue into a discussion of souls and what it means to have one and how much better off you'd be with your very own soul, but then I couldn't figure out a good way to do that, so I'm just gonna jump right in.

“I've found a way to bring back Fred. Well, at least her soul. Now, I'm not saying that I want to get rid of you. After all, you've contributed a lot to the team, and you deserve a chance at a new life, just like the rest of us. However, I can't just have this chance to save Fred and not take it. So, here's the deal: We're going to bring back Fred's soul, and you and she are going to be roommates, body-mates, whatever. The point is, you and she are going to be sharing that body, got it?”

Apparently, the babble is back in full effect, Willow mused to herself. Given the way Illyria was now stalking toward her, the babble wasn't the only thing still fully functional.

“You, a minor fledgling goddess, would dare to speak to me in such a manner? Who are you to command me? I've witnessed the fear that pours off of you at the thought of your own power. What makes you think that I would follow your orders?”

Luckily, Willow had been prepared for this comeback. Well, not exactly this one, but she was prepared for the basic argument. Never let it be said that Willow Rosenberg didn't do her homework. Drawing on the power lingering in the hotel, she prepared to put on a show. After all, a being who enjoyed making long-winded speeches should appreciate a little dramatic flair.

With her eyes closed, Willow began to let a little of her power leak out, crackling along her skin like dancing lightning, stirring up a wind around her. Opening her eyes, she feel the power bleed into them – kinda creepy when you thought about it, like an episode of X-Files – and knew they were completely black. That should get Illyria's attention.

“You'll listen to me, my fallen godling.” See, she could insult too. “Because you can feel your power slowing coming back to you. You can feel it growing in your gut, slowly spilling out into the rest of your body. In a hundred years, tops, you'll be too powerful for that body once again.

“Of course, I could help you survive, let you have a bit of your power, and show you how to keep it from destroying you. However, power does come with a price.”

At this, Willow drew herself up as close as she could to Illyria, and whispered in her ear, ”I'm sure you can see where this is leading.”

That'll put marzipan in your pie plate, bingo! Yeah, maybe it was better she didn't say that last bit out loud. Besides, given the blue wonder's current non-expression – as opposed to the disdain it was showing before – the point had gotten across. By the time the next moon waned, they would have Fred back.

Compromising Consent [Voluntary Obsession]

2010-04-29T22:57:43Z

Title: Compromising Consent [Voluntary Obsession]
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue /eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRM
Pairing: Chapel/Spock
Warning: dub-con and mind-control. I call it more angst than dark, but that's up to you to decide
Summary: After the failure of his first relationship, Spock is determine to keep his new one, no matter what.
A/N: It's better than the summary, I promise. Also, thank you to Gabrielle, you wouldn't have wanted to see it before she got hold of it.

He overrides the code on the door to her quarters, not giving her a chance to try and deny herself relief for the need he can feel calling out to him. She is standing at her desk, facing away from the door, wearing a night shirt and panties that cover very little. As quietly as possible, he walks up behind her and gently lays his hands on her shoulders. He can feel a quick stab of alarm from her, followed by recognition and desire as he slides his hands down and around her arms to intertwine their hands palm to palm.

Bending his head, he places his lips against her neck and molds his body to hers. When he feels guilt begin to surface in her, he gently bites down where her neck and shoulder meet and firmly places his hand between her thighs in a move he has learned to be the quickest way of encouraging her desire to override her conscience. While he admires her strong moral code, he cannot allow it to jeopardize what they have.

It is a fine line he walks each night that he comes to her quarters. There is great difficulty in skimming the surface of her desire enough for his body to respond, yet maintaining enough control so that he his not consumed by ancient passions. If she were to understand the truly precarious nature of his situation, the possible danger to them both, there is a great probability she would refuse his advances and not respond well to any method he might use to attempt to persuade her otherwise. That would be unacceptable.

As he sinks into her arousal, he can feel his body begin to respond; he pulls her tight against him with their hands, still entwined, on her hips.

“Tonight I do not think we will be using the bed.”

Where his people repress passion, her people often use passion as a tool to express and deepen intimacy. He is aware she would be willing to forgo sexual contact out of respect for him. However, he is also aware she would not thrive in such a relationship and would eventually leave because of that. It is not an outcome he would prefer.

His relationship with Nyota suffered this fate and, while they are still friends, he regrets that his unwillingness to compromise cut short the future they had been planning together. The strength Nyota has – the same strength that reminds him so much of his mother – he can see in Christine as well. It is the strength needed for a human woman to withstand and overcome, not only the unyielding nature of Vulcan itself, but the disdainful views of its people.

Where he had expected Nyota to repress her human need for physical intimacy in order to accommodate his Vulcan physiology, he would now use the abilities inherent to Vulcans in order to adapt to Christine's needs.

Her signs are easy to read: irritability, shorter attention span, and her gaze lingering on him. While someone not looking for these signs would miss the changes in her behavior at first, as they are so subtle, he has made himself hyper-aware of her in order that he does not.

His focus on her could be labeled obsessive, he knows, yet he does nothing to alter it. While he would normally view obsession as the product of a disturbed and deeply troubled mind, it serves him well in his goal. If he is acutely aware of her every emotion and response, he can easily ensure that she is not only content, but happy and fulfilled with him.

Releasing one of his hands from hers, he skims it back up her arm to wrap around the back of her neck. He firmly urges her forward over the desk and, as her now free hand stops her from colliding with the desk, he twists the other up to rest at the small of her back.

“Do not move.”

He feels the thrill that runs through her as he runs his hand down her back to the waistband of her underwear. He makes quick work of them then loosens and pushes down his uniform pants just enough to free himself and sink into her body. As he sets up a quick and near-brutal pace, he reaches forward to pull back on her hair.

Later, when they are snugly curled together on Christine's bed, Spock will wonder if his father put this much effort into keeping mother with him, but for now he is concentrating on the fine line between enjoying his partner's passion and losing himself in his own.

BtVS Fic: Shaper of Secret Worlds

2010-04-25T01:10:38Z

Title: Shaper of Secret Worlds
Author: tmbreck / eclectic_tongue / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRM
Pairing: Spike/Willow
Summary: Willow may have cast the spell, but Spike is more than willing to adapt. *only lightly dark*
A/N: season 4; dark, porn without plot; dub-con, mind control (of the magic spell variety)

Every chance she got, she would come to him, his only warning was her voice in his head making a simple demand:

“Tell me.”

She moves over him without inhibition. It is not something he would have expected, but it is something he appreciates.

And he did. He told her everything she wanted to hear and more. He told her he loved her, he couldn't live without her and that he was going to turn her as soon as the chip came out. They would be eternal; together forever.

There are days he can't remember how long they've been doing this, and days he can't remember that it isn't real.

It was the feeling, half remembered from spell-induced engagement to Buffy, that clued him in. His little witch had been playing with magic again, only this time she'd snagged her very own pet vampire.

It had started out as a way for her to forget her dog. Either way he remembered it, real or spell-memory, it had always started out that way. The difference between the two versions was all in who instigated it. When he was lost in the moment with her, however, the differences didn't matter. The only thing that mattered was her.

Her eyes are completely black as she rides him, hands pressing against where his heart used to beat.

“You'll always be mine, right? I won't let you leave me.”

He wasn't sure when it all started to change, when she started to get lost in her own spell. Maybe he had simply found the one girl he could make fall for him just by loving her enough. Either way, he was going to do everything he could to bind her tight to him.

He rolls them over, hand slipping unnoticed under the pillow. Bracing himself on one arm, he drags his free hand down the bed alongside her, concealing a dark emerald gemstone under his palm.

After a few weeks of searching and bribing, he'd found a powerful demon willing to put together a spell for him. Using a ritual built from a patchwork of human and demonic magic, the gem had finally been complete, save for one key step.

She's nearly mindless in her pleasure, straining so hard for what he was more than willing to give her. Just as she's getting close to the edge, he places the hand holding the gem low on her abdomen.

“That's it's, Red, let go for me. Show me you love me.”

He wasn't sure what would happen once she figured out what he did, but he wasn't really worried it would be anything too painful or permanent. After all, he was only giving her what she wanted; someone who would love her forever and do anything to keep her.

She was a shaper of secret worlds, but he's never been very good at knowing his place.

Star Trek: The Original Series 1.08: Miri

2010-04-23T19:36:40Z

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Star Trek: The Original Series 1.07: What Are Little Girls Made Of?

2010-04-23T19:31:47Z

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Star Trek: The Original Series 1.06: Mudd's Women

2010-04-23T19:28:02Z

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Star Trek: The Original Series 1.05: The Enemy Within

2010-04-23T19:24:31Z

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Dancing In Ashes

2010-01-19T06:38:16Z

Rating: FRT
Pairing: Spike/Willow
Summary: He's not sure what sent Willow off the deep end; he only knows that when she came back, she didn't come back all the way.
Warning: References to death and violence
Timeline: End of Season 6
A/N: This was written for my 'Write Every Day' project. Thank you to my ever patient beta, velvetwhip.

They dance together to music only she can hear as the world burns around them. She isn't the first girl he's spun around in the ashes with, but she could be the last.

Bending low to her ear, he whispers that they should leave; there's nothing left for them here. It's not strictly a lie. Sure, the Watcher's still clinging to life somehow, but his girl went to town on the poor bastard and now no one would recognize him. Spike doubts he'd be much entertainment for the little witch anymore.

He's not sure what sent Willow off the deep end; he only knows that when she came back, she didn't come back all the way. Somewhere, deep in that soul he's not sure he really wanted, he aches for the good little girl he knew – the one who agonized over even bruising the feelings of a demon who had done his part to shorten her lifespan. However, high on the magic laced blood she freely offered, he finds it easy to ignore that small pain. After all, they have the world to conquer.

“Hey, now, what do you say we head to L.A. and drop in on some family?”

Buffy the Vampire Slayer 4.22: Restless

2010-01-14T06:38:23Z

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Logical Orgy

2010-01-13T06:00:52Z

Title: Logical Orgy
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: FRT
Pairing: Ensemble Orgy (implied)
Summary: Spock is acting strange. That's all you get, it's OOC crack!
A/N: Implied pre-orgy. Written for usstribble

Her attention was so centered on the static coming through her earpiece that Uhura didn't sense the first officer – almost casually – walking up to her until it was too late. She had just registered the feeling of something pressing on her neck when she witnessed Spock cross the bridge and push what looked to be a modified hypospray into the captain's neck.

As the turbo lift doors closed behind Spock, Uhura turned to look at Kirk , who shook his head at her stare and seemed just as bewildered as she did.

**************

Sulu exited his quarters feeling very pleased with life in general. He was on a beautiful ship with a fun captain, and his soon-to-be boyfriend would be 18 in a few short weeks. Life was good - so good, he should have known something weird was bound to happen. However, even if he had known, he wouldn't have expected that weirdness to come from Commander Spock of all people.

“Lieutenant, I require a moment of your time.”

Just as he was closing in on where Spock was standing, he saw Pavel coming down the hallway holding his neck. When the young navigator saw who the first officer was standing with, his eyes widened and he reached out a hand.

“Hikaru...”

Sulu didn't have a chance to hear what Pavel would have said as he was too busying trying to figure out what the commander had jabbed into his neck.

**************

Nurse Chapel had just finished taking inventory when she heard McCoy's unmistakable yelling. Given some of the less than flattering insults, she could only conclude he was yelling at Commander Spock.

Very much not eager to get caught in the crossfire, Christine took her time walking out into the main bay. Just as she cleared the sickbay doors, she saw the first officer pressing a hypospray into Dr. M'Benga's neck. Given the shocked look on the man's face, she could only conclude he had not volunteered.

“Commander, what are you doing?”

Watching the Vulcan advancing on her, Christine began to realize that drawing his attention was not, perhaps, her best idea ever.

McCoy walked in as she was inspecting the area on her neck that Spock had assaulted with his hypo.

“He got you two as well?”

At their nods, he strode out of the bay muttering about space madness and alien pollens.

**************

While listening to his CMO rant about pointy-eared hobgoblins, space madness, and sex pollen, Jim Kirk was beginning to wonder if he should have had his first officer detained after he had - well - not so much attacked as marked him and Uhura earlier. According to calls he had received, Spock had gotten to both Chekov and Sulu, and was last seen cornering Scotty in engineering while Keenser did his best to fight off the much taller and stronger Vulcan.

Just as he was about to call down to security to ask them to round up Spock and detain him, the commander himself came through the turbo lift doors leading a handful of Vulcans.

“And so the ones bearing this particular mark are to be excluded from the general mating pool. No exceptions.”

Jim was sure there were no shortage of things that Bones would love to say to Spock right about now, but he appeared to be having problems getting his vocal cords and mouth to work in conjunction. The rest of the bridge didn't seem to be having much better luck, either. So it was his duty, as the only person apparently capable of speech at the time, to get to the bottom of things.

“Commander, would you care to explain what's going on?”

**************

“As this is – to put it rather barbarically – my territory, I have first pick among the crew for mating purposes. Given that there was a small chance those chosen would be forced to leave the Enterprise, I chose those I felt were irreplaceable, while attempting not to appear excessive.”

There was nothing that the small group could really say to that. What it all amounted to was a Federation-sanctioned breeding program set up by the Vulcan Council. All participants would be willing, but it still unsettled some of them, though Scotty seemed contented to nod along as he devoured his sandwich.

Appearing solemn, Kirk nodded his head and folded his hands in front of him. This, of course, should have been more than enough warning for anyone who had spent any amount of time with him that something idiotic was about to come out of his mouth.

“So, what you're saying is that, in order to keep the Enterprise running smoothly, you've decided to have an orgy.”

McCoy was already mentally writing Jim's eulogy when Spock shocked the room at large.

“It's only logical, Captain.”

Fate and Machinations

2010-01-13T03:45:19Z

Title: Fate and Machinations
Series: Empire Series
Author: lilbreck / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: Anybody
Character: Chapel/Spock T'Pau
Summary: To ensure she was loyal to the cause, however, T'Pau herself would raise the girl.
A/N: First two stories are linked in this post, third in this post. Just like those stories, this is set in the Reboot Mirrorverse. Also, any and all Vulcan in this story is probably mangled beyond recognition. While not direct Chapel/Spock, it is being worked toward, and is part of the series.

Since before she was born, the Terrans had ruled over T'Pau's people without mercy. Vulcan as a whole had been absorbed into the Empire and there had seemed very little that could be done about it. Yet in spite of the apparent hopelessness of their cause, there were some working behind the scenes, waiting for an opportunity to arise, a way to exploit a weakness in the Empire.

Their patience was rewarded when one of the Imperial Fleet's own ships was attacked by what was later was revealed to be a Romulan vessel.

In the chaos of the war against Romulus and its people, it had been easy to move allies into influential positions. The ultimate goal was to have a Vulcan leading the Empire, specifically the half-Terran son of Sarek.

Naturally, for him to be accepted as their leader, the Terrans would have to see Spock as if he were almost one of them. Eventually, he would have to take one of their women as his own. To ensure she was loyal to the cause, however, T'Pau herself would raise the girl.

To this end, a couple had been found and – influenced – into bearing a child. It had taken four standard years to find and condition the couple, then impregnate the female. Today, the time spent would bear fruit.

“Sarlah ko-veh”

T'Pau was drawn out of her musings by an attendant announcing the baby's arrival. Watching the Terran male walking toward her carrying the infant, the priestess could almost see another piece fall into place. This girl, raised as a Vulcan yet trained to blend in as a Terran, would be instrumental to the success of the Vulcan cause.

“We've named her Christine.”

Ignoring the father's words, she removed the child from his arms and, holding her close, unwrapped her. After affirming the child was fully formed, T'Pau gently placed two fingers along the side of the baby's head.

“Ko-mekh wimish.”

Paying no heed to the raised eyebrow of her attendant, she carried her new daughter deeper into her home. It would take much time and patience to ensure the little one's shoulders could bear the weight of her duty, but T'Pau was prepared to do whatever was necessary.

Wanting and Having

2010-01-07T23:54:37Z

Title: Wanting and Having
Series: Empire Series
Author: lilbreck / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: Teen {how.. I.. what?}
Pairing: Chapel/Spock, Kirk POV
Summary: On his short and memorable rise to command, he had made many enemies and, right now, Spock was all that stood between him and someone else's promotion.
A/N: Companion piece to Sex and Other Tools and Of Sowing and Reaping, and just like those stories, this is set in the Reboot Mirrorverse. These are now part of my Empire Series. I'm ambitious.

It took a while for Kirk to figure out what his first officer was doing with their newest Head Nurse. With anyone else, the small touches would have been meaningless gestures, but with Spock they obviously had a purpose. It wasn't until the Vulcan had stared straight into his eyes as Chapel slightly, and unconsciously, leaned into one of those touches that he knew for sure.

That fucking Vulcan bastard.

What truly pissed the young captain off wasn't that Spock was taking what Kirk had all but claimed in writing; it was that there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it. On his short and memorable rise to command, he had made many enemies and, right now, Spock was all that stood between him and someone else's promotion. Of course, even if his first officer hadn't made a move on the Lieutenant, there were other reasons to not force the issue.

If it had been any other woman, Kirk would have taken her as he saw fit. However, he had read her data file, as well as a secondary file that was sent to him privately from Captain Ramart. The file was encrypted heavily enough that it would have taken even Spock far too long to decode without the key. Kirk, thankfully, had an advantage. Having known Ramart from his Academy days, it wasn't hard for him to crack the code. While the Commander, he was sure, had noted the cause of death of Christine Chapel's attacker at her first assignment, he hadn't been informed of the recording found with the man's body.

The recording was of the ship's captain and first officer discussing, in explicit detail, how they were skimming funds and shortchanging the Empire. At the end of the recording was a simple voice message. If Chapel were harmed again, the Empire would find out. According to Ramart's message, each Captain she served under after that received a data burst containing a code as soon as the orders came down, followed by an encrypted message shortly before the Nurse was due to arrive.

Kirk wasn't sure what the other captains had received in that second message, but what he'd been given was not something he wanted to even think about again.

So, until he could find a way to do something about it, he had to sit back as his first officer flaunted his hold over their newest crew member.

Of Sowing and Reaping

2010-01-06T00:42:52Z

Title: Of Sowing and Reaping
Author: lilbreck / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: M (not too terribly graphic)
Pairing: Chapel/Spock, Spock POV
Summary: A small brush of his hand and the seed of his control took root.
A/N: Companion piece to Sex and Other Tools, and just like that story, this is set in the Reeboot Mirrorverse.

As soon as he read the data file on Christine Chapel, Spock knew Captain Kirk would want her. She was above average height for a Terran female, known to wear only a male styled uniform, and was protected, it seemed, from on high. It was well known that the only man who had attempted to take her by force was found in a pool of his own blood with his throat slit. It was unclear if Chapel had made the kill herself or not.

Everything about her seemed designed to present a challenge, and Kirk was well known to love challenges. Her presence on board the Enterprise would provide the perfect opportunity to remind the captain that anything he had or wanted could easily be taken away.

Given his network of spies throughout the Empire, it was laughably easy to have Chapel transferred once the ship's head nurse was – disposed of. It was just as easy to ensure that her transport arrived two days early, leaving Spock there to greet her while Kirk was busy entertaining a visiting Admiral on Risa.

Setting his plan into motion was simple; a small brush of his hand and the seed of his control took root. After that, it was merely a matter of nurturing the fledgling bond until he was sure she would not fight his advances.

At this point, the normal lack of physical desire ingrained into Vulcans could, potentially, still have weakened his hold on the nurse. However, by simply sinking himself into her mind, he was able to let the desire he had created in her overtake him as well.

He found it unsurprising when she discovered why he had gone to so much trouble to bring her to his bed. What he did find surprising was that, upon figuring out the general nature of his plan, she let go of the last vestiges of her resistance. Perhaps, then, she hadn't been the one to kill her first, and only, attacker.

Spock could only wonder why he had been allowed to live. Did it have something to do with her seeming willingness, or was it something else entirely?

Sex And Other Tools

2010-01-04T08:35:54Z

Title: Sex and Other Tools
Author: lilbreck / eclectic
Beta: velvetwhip
Rating: M (not too terribly graphic)
Pairing: Chapel/Spock, Chapel POV
Summary: After all, there were far worse things he could do.
A/N: This was written in the Reboot mirrorverse, but I don't really think there's anything keeping it from being read as TOS mirrorverse. Written for my 'Write Every Day' project. Really loved how this turned out. CC is welcome, as is feedback.

It was like this every time.

Christine wasn't sure, at first, why he initiated anything if it wasn't something he physically wanted. When he'd taken her the first time, she had assumed it was a show of power; domination through sex. Still, what he had done was less like fucking than making love.

It wasn't until she caught Kirk staring at her one day, noticing Spock had seen it as well, that the words he always said as he sank into her every night began to make sense.

“If another were to touch you, this would cease.”

Her body on fire from his touches, both physical and mental, everything clicked into place.

She was a pawn he used against the captain, a way to show Kirk that his first officer was more than capable of taking something he wanted and keeping it for himself.

Oddly enough, it made it easier to just let go and enjoy. Power plays were something she could understand. That he did everything possible to addict her to his touch didn't really bother Christine. After all, there were far worse things he could do.

The Vampire Diaries 1.01: Pilot

2009-10-05T03:51:17Z

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer 4.21: Primeval

2009-10-05T03:40:54Z

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Star Trek: The Original Series 1.04: The Naked Time

2009-08-11T17:44:01Z

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Buffy the Vampire Slayer 4.20: The Yoko Factor

2009-08-11T17:39:15Z

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Star Trek: The Original Series 1.03: Where No Man Has Gone Before

2009-08-08T17:57:18Z

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