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Desperate Times

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Entry tags:

dark!fic, pr0n, spike/lindsey

Pairing: Spike/Lindsey, implied Lindsey/Darla, Spike/Angel

Rating: NC-17+

Warnings: m/m sex, rape, torture, character death, serious angst  and general mental damage

A/N: Raise your hand if you hate Joss Whedon for turning Spike into a joke in AtS S5? Okay, okay! Geez, no need to raise both hands and get all emphatic about it. Anyways, I'm a firm anti-fan of Spike in that season, only because he wasn't Spike. He was the worst caricature of Spike I've ever seen and that includes those really awful Mary Sue fics that float around fandom and make us cry. So, this is my solution. Granted it's messy and little deranged, but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do.

Summary: Spike shows Lindsey he's nobody's pawn. Takes place during AtS S5 episode "You're Welcome" and goes AU pretty darn quickly. A bit dialogue taken from the same episode...

Desperate Times

"Really should knock on a bloke's door," Spike calls out. "Especially one that's got no qualms about killing trespassers."

"Come on," Lindsey smiles disarmingly. "Is that any way to talk to your benefactor? Just a little concerned about you. You haven't been out in the field lately."

Spike glares at him, eyes cold and dead. The smile on his face drops the temperature in the room by about ten degrees. Lindsey shifts in his seat anxiously. He's worked too long and too hard to let some wanna-be hero fuck him up now.

"You know, mate," Spike purrs, "I can't decide if you think I'm stupid or gullible. But, don't suppose it matters. Either one's a mistake and right now you're at your limit of those."

"I know," Lindsay murmurs, hang his head in mock contrition. "I should've been there for you. I didn't know she was a Slayer. Didn't know it'd get bad like that. Lucky for you your buddy Angel's got connections, right?"

"My buddy Angel," Spike repeats slowly. "My…buddy Angel. You know, it occurs to me I never did ask you just how you knew about Angel."

Lindsey shakes his head. Great. This close to the end game and the idiot decides to grow a brain stem.

"You told me about him," Lindsey shrugs. "The first day we met, remember?"

"No," Spike smirks. "I didn't. Oh I mean, I probably mentioned him. Can't go a day without counting my curses and all that. But I never told you about him. You knew all about him without my saying a word. Some innocent drifter with visions who knows all about Angel, vampire with a soul and newly minted CEO of Wolfram and bloody Hart."

Spike shifts in his seat, dropping the controller. His hands snake up Lindsey's arm, fisting softly in the leather of his coat. The blonde stares at him, eyes bright and gleefully malicious.

"Physical therapy," Spike explains modestly. "Video games mostly. You ever get your hands cut off, you should try it."

"I did get my hand cut off," Lindsey tells him coolly. "Line of duty."

Spike drops his head, sniffing at Lindsey's neck. The slight breeze sends a shock down his spine, and he trembles. He's been here before, with a bloodsucker at his throat and death smiling at him so sweetly it almost breaks his heart. A different time, a different place, a different small deadly blonde; he wonders if he'll ever not think of her.

"Yeah," Spike whispers in his ear. "I heard all about it. Lindsey."
He sighs, at once furious and relieved. So the simple isn't so simple. He rolled snake eyes today and now it's over. Well, at least he won't have to put up with Eve pawing him anymore. He always likes to accentuate the positive.

"Drusilla," he says, a flat statement.

Spike nods. "My girl told me all about it, including your little obsession with Darla. Took me a bit to put it all together. She talked all the time about a lawyer with cows eyes and a liar's smile. I'd say that suits you to a T, mate."

"A liar's smile," Lindsey chuckles. "Drusilla didn't like me, that's a fact. Darla had to pull her off me the night they had their coming out party."

"Mmm," Spike agrees tonelessly. "Dru's got a good handle on the facts. Better'n Darla's mostly. So this is all about Darla, is it? Captain of the Brood Team got your girl and you want what? A spot of revenge?"

"It was supposed to be me," Lindsey tells him. "Darla, Wolfram and Hart, all of it."

Spike laughs, low and brittle. The sound is vicious, reverberating around the small apartment and hitting Lindsey with an almost physical force. He flinches slightly, fighting to sit still. I can do this, he thinks desperately. Won't be the first time, right? Not the first time.

"You sad sorry little man," Spike finally replies, the laughter tapering off. "She called for him, didn't she? You were giving it to her good and proper and she's screaming her head off for Angelus."

Lindsey closes his eyes and Spike smiles in satisfaction. Angelus might've cornered the market on mind games, but the bastard never did understand that it wasn't his grand gestures that mattered. Spike understood, intimately, that it was the little slights and stings of life that built a deep reservoir of hate, fed it in trickles until it burst forth.

"She did," Lindsey acknowledged.

"Did you," Spike asks gently.

Lindsey turns his head sharply, staring at Spike in shock. Those blue eyes bored into him, stripping him bare. There was a twisted benevolence in that gaze, a malign joy that relished this bloodless kill.

"Taking up where the old man left off, eh," he inquires quizzically.

"She wanted Angelus, you wanted Angelus," Spike continues thoughtfully. "Did you think she'd take you, make you hers? Maybe if you were dead, you'd stop wanting him and start being him?"
"She wouldn't do it," Lindsey admits dully. "She didn't kill me. She just…left."

"Yeah," Spike smiles nostalgically. "She always wanted the best. No cheap knock-offs for Darla, I'll give her that."

"Shut up," Lindsey hisses.

"Don't think I will," Spike answers genially. "You think you're the only one? Please. If I had a quid for every time some fool pined away for Angelus, I'd be rich enough to stop caring."

"That tally of fools include you, Spike," he retorts. He's not gonna play the whipped puppy here. Not for this second string souled up bastard.

"Oh yeah." Spike heaves a gusty sigh. "Spent my fair share of time bouncing on his prick. Darla might've chosen him for his good looks and snotty attitude, but she kept him around for his cock."

Spike narrows his eyes, dragging Lindsey closer. The lawyer's practically sitting on his lap, and the long shirt doesn't conceal his erection. This one's been gagging for it for ages now and Spike's just the vamp to give him what he's dying for.

"I've had them both," Spike murmurs. "Been in between them for hours, just a body for them to fuck and bleed. Can you imagine it, Lindsey? Bet you can. Bet you've spent hours flogging yourself raw thinkin' about it."

Lindsey moans, head tilting back slightly. Spike nods sharply, fingers slipping under the brunet's shirt to twist a pebbled nipple. Lindsey pumps his hips once, subsiding under a soothing caress.

"He tastes like hate," Spike says as he nips at Lindsey's ear. "Spicy and complicated in your mouth. It hurts to have him inside you, hurts not to. You'd beg him, wouldn't you? I did, over and over. Darla would laugh, water tinkling over gemstones, hearing me beg for a little more torture. Kiss is the same as a blow with him. 'S why you fought him, isn't it? Get those big Irish hands on you, skin to skin."

"Ungh," Lindsey moans, words garbled by the two fingers in his mouth.  Spike tastes like bitter chocolate, danger and something Lindsey can't quite place. It's not quite salt, not quite smoke, and almost but not quite cinnamon.

"Yeah, you can taste him, can't you?" Spike asks, free hand unzipping Lindsey's fly. The other man's cock pulses under his hand, a pearly droplet shining on the tip. "He's my blood, part of my flesh and bone. I'll love him and hate him until I die. And so will you."

Spike's face changes, fangs and ridges taking the place of smooth human features. Lindsey sucks in a breath, the prickle of those sharp teeth echoed in the crackling bolts of want in his dick. He bites his lip, thrusting forward into Spike's hand. This is what he wanted from Darla, A purity of death and pain that she refused to give him.


Lindsey's eyes fly open, shock and need fighting on his face. It's Angel, and he shouldn't be surprised but he is. Angel come to save him again, give him another speech about how worthless he is and how much he's despised. He feels a faint glow of pride in Spike. The treacherous fuck, he thinks dimly. Nice to see he has it in him after all.

"Make him beg," Angel commands tranquilly.

Spike nods again, and Lindsey is shifted briefly. Spike's arms tighten around him, holding him like iron as if Lindsey might bolt. Lindsey doesn't speak, but he thinks Spike knows what he'd say. He won't leave, can't leave. He has to see how it ends.

Spike pulls his fingers from Lindsey's mouth and when they return, they're coated in something thick and rich. Spike traces Lindsey's mouth, dabbing the dampness over them. A pink tongue snakes out to chase and suckle, the taste drawing a thick groan from Lindsey's throat.

"I'm full up with it, pet," Spike whispers. "He's fucked me six ways from Sunday, coated me in his spunk. He made me a whore for it, his cock and his come. Your bosses got their wish. The poncy soul's left the building."

There's a soft slick push on his bare cheeks, and Lindsey's hole twitches greedily. He wants it all now, whatever they'll give him. A good fuck, a violent death, he just wants.

"That's a boy," Spike croons, as he pushes upwards. Lindsey tenses, the searing pain jolting him from his cocoon of lust and need. The fragile membranes tear and rip, and he's screaming now as his blood coats Spike's cock.

"Not that he doesn't sound lovely," a familiar voice floats over Lindsey, and he struggles weakly, trying to fight off Spike and escape the fierce burn. "but can't we find someone more interesting to kill."

"Ssh," Angelus smiles, reaching out a hand and drawing the voice into Lindsey's field of view. "We'll be finished soon."

"Darla," Lindsey croaks. "Dead."

"No," she smiles enchantingly at him. "I'm not. I was, but my boy brought me back. Again."

"Death is like a vacation for Darla," Spike tells him thickly, cock working in and out of his slack and bleeding body. "Some girls go the spa, Darla goes to Hell. Rejeuvenating, innit, luv?"

"Why don't I stake you and let you find out for yourself," she snaps back. "Finish him. I'm ready to move on."

"I'm not," Angelus tells her gently. "I haven't got what I came for yet."

Lindsey's vision is going dim now. Blood loss, he imagines and a bit of sorrowful elation. So much beauty here, all of it malevolent and all of it for him. He doesn't want it to end, despite the pain and humiliation.

"Let…" he croaks. "Let me…taste."

Angelus steps forward, and crouches down in front of him. Lindsey's flying now, soaring out of his body and reaching eagerly for what comes next. Angelus kisses him, lips and tongue teasing their way into Lindsey's mouth and Spike's moaning now. A small drop of something metallic and intense falls onto his tongue and Lindsey sucks desperately.

"You didn't think we'd leave you behind?" he hears as the world drops away and the darkness claims him.