Sin Eater: Atlantic 1902 (part 4 of 6)
Jan. 2nd, 2007 04:39 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thatotherpervAnother short'un. last two parts are a bit longer.
Title: Sin Eater
Author: Mel (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
btvslover82)
Pairing: Spangel
Rating: uh...R? I guess maybe NC-17, though...I'd say R for non-porny intent of the smexing.
Summary: pre-canon AU. What if Spike stumbled across Angelus just before he fled China? A peek at how their lives would have been different.
Warnings: typical vamp stuff...violence, sexual violence, death. insanity. angst.
A/N: I'm keeping everything pre-leave-off point as close to canon as possible, so sire = in the sense of mentor.
Previous parts here
Atlantic, 1902
Spike quickly discovered that he loathed boats. Like giant wooden coffins that rocked and rolled till you wanted to vomit your guts out, and he hadn’t liked being buried alive the first time, without the motion sickness.
Angel never left the cabin. Well, he did, but only to catch rats in the cargo bay. He stunk of vermin, and Spike tried to spend as little time with him as possible, only returning for sleep. Could have slept elsewhere, truth be told. There were plenty of warm beds where he was welcome. But Angel had nightmares. Spike knew he only slept well when he was held.
Poofter.
Wasn’t even getting shagged out of the deal. Angel acted like a monk, rather than a sinful creature of the night. Outraged like a virgin when Spike tried to start a little rough n tumble.
There was a boy that Spike was fucking. Weak, needy little thing that panted and sobbed with pleasure when he bent him over a crate and thrust into that tight arse. Needy enough, or masochistic enough, that he let Spike slip into a vein and feed as they came. Wasn’t anything to live off of if you could help it, but he couldn’t feed on the ship. Not if they didn’t fancy getting left to swim the Atlantic.
Three weeks in, he did get desperate enough to cull one from the herd. Dumped the body overboard and pretended ignorance when the man came up missing. Wasn’t something that could be repeated, unfortunately. Questions would be asked.
But fuck, it had been good to drink his fill.
Nearly kissed the ground when they landed on Ellis Island. Got them settled neat as you please in New York, a city that thrummed with an adolescent vibration, still so young. Nothing like home. But full of tired, weak and huddled masses ripe for the plucking.
He wondered if the girls had arrived in London yet. And if they had, whether they’d been given the note he’d left with one of Darla’s society bitches. He hoped Dru didn’t cry for them for too long—because he knew she’d cry longer if Daddy was a big pile of dust. They’d see one another again…some day.
How he’d ended up with the job of keeping the family together, he’d never know. Responsibility gave him a rash.
Part 5: New York, 1907
Title: Sin Eater
Author: Mel (
btvslover82)Pairing: Spangel
Rating: uh...R? I guess maybe NC-17, though...I'd say R for non-porny intent of the smexing.
Summary: pre-canon AU. What if Spike stumbled across Angelus just before he fled China? A peek at how their lives would have been different.
Warnings: typical vamp stuff...violence, sexual violence, death. insanity. angst.
A/N: I'm keeping everything pre-leave-off point as close to canon as possible, so sire = in the sense of mentor.
Previous parts here
Atlantic, 1902
Spike quickly discovered that he loathed boats. Like giant wooden coffins that rocked and rolled till you wanted to vomit your guts out, and he hadn’t liked being buried alive the first time, without the motion sickness.
Angel never left the cabin. Well, he did, but only to catch rats in the cargo bay. He stunk of vermin, and Spike tried to spend as little time with him as possible, only returning for sleep. Could have slept elsewhere, truth be told. There were plenty of warm beds where he was welcome. But Angel had nightmares. Spike knew he only slept well when he was held.
Poofter.
Wasn’t even getting shagged out of the deal. Angel acted like a monk, rather than a sinful creature of the night. Outraged like a virgin when Spike tried to start a little rough n tumble.
There was a boy that Spike was fucking. Weak, needy little thing that panted and sobbed with pleasure when he bent him over a crate and thrust into that tight arse. Needy enough, or masochistic enough, that he let Spike slip into a vein and feed as they came. Wasn’t anything to live off of if you could help it, but he couldn’t feed on the ship. Not if they didn’t fancy getting left to swim the Atlantic.
Three weeks in, he did get desperate enough to cull one from the herd. Dumped the body overboard and pretended ignorance when the man came up missing. Wasn’t something that could be repeated, unfortunately. Questions would be asked.
But fuck, it had been good to drink his fill.
Nearly kissed the ground when they landed on Ellis Island. Got them settled neat as you please in New York, a city that thrummed with an adolescent vibration, still so young. Nothing like home. But full of tired, weak and huddled masses ripe for the plucking.
He wondered if the girls had arrived in London yet. And if they had, whether they’d been given the note he’d left with one of Darla’s society bitches. He hoped Dru didn’t cry for them for too long—because he knew she’d cry longer if Daddy was a big pile of dust. They’d see one another again…some day.
How he’d ended up with the job of keeping the family together, he’d never know. Responsibility gave him a rash.
Part 5: New York, 1907
