![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
FIC: The Once It Begins Series - 03
The “Once It Begins” Series
Paring:
Spike/Xander mostly
various pairings later on
Rating:
NC-17 eventually
Season:
My bizarre mind thought something crazy up…
Season 6 BtVS without the Spuffy plotline
Season 5 AtS without the W & H plotline but the Connor memories gone
Warnings: Someone could get (un)dead here…
Thanks to everybody who commented on the previous parts, I am always curious to learn what people think of my fics. Doesn’t matter if it is criticism or feedback…
*** Special thanks to my beta
![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif){kind=small}
joolzmp7! ***03 Links
„Cordy, do you know a better dry cleaning service than George’s?“ Angels holds his light green button shirt against the light of a lamp. „The Gnor’kl’s blood has still left a light purple…“ His eyes fly open wide. Shock and surprise making them bulge. Hands moving to his heart of their own accord. Looking like a old man having a stroke, Angel goes down.
*Thunk* as his knee hits the floor hard and he starts to whimper.
*Thunk* as his fist slams into the wooden floor, destroying a tile while the whimper turns into growling.
Wuumbwuumm when Cordelia’s knees hits the floor, little cries accompanying the waves of the vision ploughing through her brain. She quakes in pain, her hands clutching her head. Tears streaking down her face, distorted by grief.
Seeing Cordy cringing in pain, Angel pulls himself together and crawls towards her, cradles the sobbing girl to his chest.
„Oh God, oh God, ohgod ohgodohgodohgod… he is…“ she sobs.
„He will be okay. He’ll get through it. We just have to get to him. Fast!“ Angel wonders if visions now come with a portion of pity for the hurt person.
„He is dead! DEAD!“ she screams only inches away from Angel’s sensitive ears.
He flinches away. „Well, yes. More than a century, actually.“
„Huh?“ Big brown eyes staring up confused.
„Well, turned him 1880, makes it about one hunderd and…“
„Huh?“ She interrupts.
„Spike? My childe?“ Raised eyebrow. Brown eyes urging her to understand.
„WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SPIKE?“
„Because he… erm, your vision was not about Spike, was it?“ Biting his lower lip, trying to figure out, how he gets her to hurry so he can get to his childe.
„He was in my vision, not the main player though and Buffy took care of him… finally.“
„Took care of him?“ Suppresses growling.
„Staked him.“ Shrugging.
„NO.“
„Well I saw her ramming the long wooden thing deep into his chest…“ trailing off when Angel growls loudly.
„He is not gone.“ Angel says, tries to puzzle out the whole picture.
„If you say so.“ A neatly shaped eyebrow rising, silently questioning Angels sanity.
„What else did you see?!“ Angel hurries her and gets a weeping Cordy in his arms again instead of information. Brushing away the words of compassion his soul whispers, he grabs her shoulders and shakes her. „Tell me what you saw. NOW!“ Eyes flashing yellow.
„He is DEAD!“ She eventually cries.
„He is not dead.“
„You haven’t seen him! He IS dead!“
„I would feel it when he was dead. Believe me, he is not dead!“ Losing patience.
„Why would you feel it if Xander was dead?“ Earnest puzzlement now.
„What? You’re talking about the boy?“ Groaning and biting his lip, trying not to slap her. „Fuck Harris! I care about Spike!“ Wide brown eyes, surprised by his own words. Angel hears them echoing in his head, lingering like cigarette smoke.
Cordy struggles to her feet, wiping furiously at the tears still spilling from her eyes.
“I have to go to Sunnydale.” Angel says and sits on his heels, hands on his knees, thighs spread wide.
“Yeah, have to pack for the funeral. Did I ever wear the black shirt with the sweetheart neckline in Sunnydale or did I buy it here in L.A. already?
Angel sighs. “Cordy. Cordy! CORDELIA!”
She whips around to Angel, takes in his formal looking stance. “Erm, Angel…”
“You’ve got two hours to get your stuff together. I’m going to Sunnydale and if you’re ready, you can come with me.” When Cordy opens her mouth to protest or to negotiate the time or whatever he cuts her short: “GO. NOW!”
The door slams shut loudly.
Alone at last, Angel is able to concentrate. Spike must be very desperate if he, of all people, calls the clan. Then Cordy’s vision of Buffy staking Spike after finding the annoying now dead youth. Something must have gone badly wrong. Some kind of misunderstanding maybe. Spike simply wasn’t able to hurt Xander, the chip was still in place as his childe told him with the call. Musing the possibilities around Angel realizes that he is just stalling. He had never given up the position of the clan’s head, so he had to deal now. And a demand of protection and help made by a childe was nothing that could be ignored, no. The lore of his clan simply said to follow the call and help and protect where it was needed.
Angel throws his head back, demon to the fore, he howls out his rage of the treatment of his childe and assures Spike that the head of the clan of the Aurelius blood line will follow the lore and come to him.
“Ooohh…” The dark haired woman jumped up to a bench, her face to the sky, lips twisted in a semi-smile.
“Miss Edith, can you hear him?”
Twirling on one foot, the long skirt flowing around her pale legs.
“He is calling for Daddy.”
Laughing lightly to herself, jumping from the bench, cocking her head to one side, listening.
“But we can hear him too! Can’t we, Miss Edith?”
Turning in another direction, she stretches her hands out over her head to the sky screaming: “The sister can hear you! SHE CAN HEAR YOU!”
Demon rippling to twist the pale face, glowing yellow eyes and sharp fangs. The head thrown back again, Drusilla starts a high pitched howling before she begins her journey to her little Spike to help him and to meet Daddy again.
Sitting at school, bored to death by the repeatedly performed Tell-about-your-holiday-plans-rite, the young man looks out of the window. There are some leaves off the old tree that the wind picks up time and time again. It shoves them around, lifts them and plays with them endlessly. Not really the best to pass the time but…
Groaning, clutching at his heart.
Panic rushing into his body with each breath he takes.
Panting now.
Hot agony.
In him.
On him.
Around him.
Everywhere but…
A scream torn from his throat.
The faint echo of what he feels.
He has to go.
Now.
Now.
NOW.
Shooting to his feet, the chair flying back, all eyes on him, he runs out of the class room. Desperate to run home but not able to deny his body when it runs in the opposite direction.
So what do you think? Comments of any kind are very appreciated!
no subject
no subject
I am sorry for the cliffhangers... worse ones still to come. *smirks*
And you are soooooo nice... I am trying my best with the fics and to hear that someone really looks forward to the next part is exciting and makes me *blush*.
Thank you thank you thank you.