Fanfic: The Perfect Cure (1/1)

[smokingmirror]

Title: The Perfect Cure
Author: Avarice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Angel/Spike
Spoilers: General s2 Angel
Summary: Angel has insomnia, Spike has a cure-all.
Word Count: 1086
Date First Posted: 2001
Date Revised - 13-05-2011
Beta: Kita
Awards: -
Notes: Improv fic - ragged, invent, cascade, decade.
Feedback: always welcome, as is constructive criticism.

The door to the Hyperion hotel burst open violently. The intruder growled and threw his two handed axe at the floor, stalking inside. It skidded along the parquetry with a squeal, marking it and leaving a trail of gore and other substances best left unidentified in its wake. He tramped upstairs with a frightening resolve. Reaching room 214, he once again barged through the door, enjoying making it slam once he'd entered.

The blond lying on the bed didn't look up from the magazine he was reading.

"Out of decaf, pet?"

Angel's response was to throw his right shoe -- quickly followed by his left -- at the younger vampire.

Spike ducked his head gracefully. "You're a suck shot when you're angry, mate."

The bathroom door slammed shut behind Angel. Spike looked up, his eyebrow slightly raised, mildly concerned with his sire's foul mood. There wasn't a lot he could do now, though, having heard the lock click into place, and the shower start. The blond lay back on crossed arms, closed his eyes and waited.

Half an hour later, the dark-haired vampire emerged from the bathroom. Spike opened one eye and immediately detected the change in attitude. Angel trudged out looking raggedly worn out and pissed off, but no longer shoe-throwing angry. Hair wet and unusually flat, Angel wore only the bottoms of his pajamas, the shirt hung over his arm.

Spike sat cross-legged on the bed and cocked his head to the side, looking up at his sire quizzically.

"Hard day?"

"Hard decade," Angel responded, squeezing the bridge of his nose in a tired manner as he sat on the edge of the bed heavily. "Today was just more of a bitch than usual."

Spike nodded, his face coming as close to sympathetic as it could ever get whenever dealing with Angel's self-flagellating superhero quest for redemption.

"Wanna sleep?"

"Can't," Angel whined, almost pathetically.

Usually after a trying day Angel would fall asleep straight away and be out for a good ten hours, before waking as fresh as a newly risen vamp the next day. However, very occasionally, he was stricken with a particular emotionally-induced insomnia that prevented proper rest. It made Angel get cranky and irritable until he practically passed out from exhaustion, and woke up ten hours later usually in a crappier mood than what he'd first gone to bed with.

Spike hated when that happened. It just wasn't productive to not getting the ever-loving spit beaten out of him. Also, he did feel sorry for the old sod. A little.

"Lie down," he instructed the dark-haired vampire, moving out of the centre of the bed. Angel glanced at him. Spike's face brooked no argument, so not without effort, the older man crawled up the bed.

"Face down," the blond corrected when Angel lay on his back. Angel raised his eyebrow a little as he obeyed.

"Spike," he began, "I'm not really in the mood foohohoooorrrwhat are you doing?!" Angel's voice hitched as he felt something warm and wet run down his shoulder blades to pool at the small of his back.

"Stealing a Winnebago," Spike replied, capping the bottle of massage oil and placing it back in the bedside drawer. The younger vampire threw one leg over his sire's outstretched form, resting his weight on Angel's upper thighs, looking over the pale expanse of back.

"I'm serious, Williiiaaahhh..." Angel lost the power to coherently finish his thoughts a second time as strong fingers began work massaging his aching muscles. Firm pressure on the ridges of his spine aligned the vertebra, releasing much of the tightness in his lower back. The dark-haired vampire groaned into the pillow, his tension being worked away slowly but surely by the deft hands of his childe. Gradually Angel became aware that Spike was talking to him. He concentrated on what the blond was saying with what small percentage of his mind that wasn't totally devoted to the production of incoherent mumblings.

"...a glade on the edge of a wood. Tall oaks and firs cast long shadows on the ground. The air is crisp and clear, with that cool bite in it that comes from being close to the mountains...."

Spike's voice was like molasses, syrupy and soothing. Words rolled from his tongue, inventing the most peaceful and relaxing place in the world. Angel murmured encouragement as the blond continued painting an exquisite landscape with his imagination, moving hands up to work the stress out of the older vampire's upper back.

"...birds sing softly from their vantage points high in the surrounding trees..."

The younger vampire's hands never stopped moving over the dips and hollows of Angel's back, sliding with ease due to the oil. The constant movement heated it slightly, warming the dark-haired man's skin. He felt as though he was melting into the mattress.

"...in the distance, water cascades down the side of a sheer rock face, filling the air with the sound of rushing water..."

Walking his fingers up Angel's spine, Spike reached the concrete blocks of tension that were his sire's shoulders. Kneading firmly, Spike moved to balance his weight on both knees resting on either side of Angel's waist, all the while continuing speaking, his voice taking on a somewhat hypnotic quality.

"...the water runs into a stream that passes right by your feet..."

Angel groaned, feeling his anxiety slowly drain away. He could picture everything Spike described, down to the tiniest detail.

"...it is clear, so translucent you can see the rocks that make up the bed..."

The older man moaned softly, and Spike's fingers kept working their magic.

"...can see your arms elbow-deep..."

Spike's voice purred, his honeyed words soothing the aches of a million little injuries.

"...hands holding someone under the surface..."

With perfect clarity, the image of bright blue eyes open, surprised flit into his mind. Mouth open in indignantly, bubbles furiously bursting on the surface in futile attempts to breath. Brown hair fanned out from the arrogantly attractive face. Angel serenely held Lindsey under as he screamed.

Spike ceased his massage and leant forward. "There now... feeling better?" The only response he received was a gentle snore from his sleeping sire.

The blond grinned and flipped his leg back over Angel's body, lying down next to the soundly slumbering vampire. After wiping oily hands on the bedspread, Spike picked up his magazine and flipped to the page he'd last been reading.

Sleep wasn't that hard to induce. You just needed the right motivation.

~finis