girlpire | Fic: High (3/5)

Title: High
Author: girlpire
Rating: E for everyone?
Pairing: I'd probably call it gen, but there are lots of Spangel references.
Disclaimer: This story is based on the "Angel" series, with which I am not affiliated in any way. Joss Whedon is my master, etc.
Distribution: Please no. kthnxbye. :)
Summary: Post-NFA. What's left of Team Angel is fighting the good fight in Chicago, and a vision leads Spike and Angel down into the sewers to rescue a young English man called Jacob.
Warnings: A kind of gross spell in this part.
Author's Notes: This story is a prequel to [Like Drowning], the Angel/Kate story I wrote last summer. Since this comes chronologically before that one, you don't need to have read it to understand this one. It's based on these prompts from

frimfram: Spike saving Angel, a ghost train, and a reference to St. Petersburg.

*The story has been broken into ~~four~~ five parts. Part one is [here]. Part two is [here]. This is part three. I'll post ~~the last part~~ part four tomorrow night. (Hopefully.)

Previously: Jacob starts stiffly toward the other small room. His scraped back is beginning to feel slightly painful, but he tries to be glad that the spider's venom is wearing off. He passes Gunn rolling back out of the first room.

"Damn, Spike," Gunn says. "Next time you chain the boss to the bed naked, a little warning would be nice."

"Oh, right. He's naked," Spike warns.

"Too late, man! Now I'm gonna have big-ass vampire package haunting my dreams."

"Like you didn't already."

Jacob enters the second room, smiling a little at the friendly bickering of the two men. He hadn't thought about how tired he was until now. He collapses face-first onto the smallish bed, stretching out full-length and tossing his blanket onto the floor. His feet hang off the edge. He's asleep before the two men stop talking.

High, Part 3 of 5

*

Jacob doesn't know where he is when he wakes up. He's lying on his stomach and he lifts his head to look around, but when he moves, his back immediately erupts into pain. He nearly cries out. He buries his face into his pillow again and squeezes his eyes shut tight. He remembers now.

Bitten by a big blue spider. Dragged halfway to Mexico. And now the happy poison is gone. Damn.

Jacob lies completely still. Even the tiny motions of breathing feel uncomfortable. His skin feels tight, most likely from scabbing, but he also aches all over from walking and carrying heavy swords, and he's probably got bruises all down his back and a bump the size of Scotland on the back of his head. He feels altogether pretty miserable.

And vampires? Bloody hell.

"...cleaned up," Spike is saying to someone outside of the room. "He'll be fine, but he's going to be in a hell of a lot of pain when that demon venom wears off."

"You must give him medicine," Illyria says. "Analgesics."

"Actually, I was thinking I'd stay away from his bum," Spike says slowly. "But you can give him anal... thingies... if you like."

"She means painkillers," Gunn tells him. "Which would be a good idea - if we had any. Too bad y'all didn't bring back any of that venom from Charlotte's Evil Web. It would be nice to have around, considering our line of work."

"Yeah, shame we were too busy saving Angel to think about cutting the fangs out of a demon spider head. I'll try to remember to do that next time. Let me make myself a note."

Jacob snorts softly into his pillow at the vampire's sarcasm.

"Anyway, he'll be fine, like I said. He's a tough bloke."

"Does he..." Gunn hesitates. "Does he remind you of anyone?"

There is a short silence. Jacob listens.

"His voice," Illyria says quietly. "When I hear him speak, I remember..." The sentence trails off, but she adds abruptly, "I do not wish for him to suffer pain."

"Mr. Zhang might have something useful," says Gunn. "I'll talk to Ming, see if they can help."

"A healing spell would be nice," Spike agrees. "And if they have anything to wake the dead..."

"Man, I don't know if we're ready for Angel to wake up yet," says Gunn. "If he's gone all Hannibal Lector, we should probably warn the Zhangs and get your friend out of here first."

"Magicked manacles, mate," Spike reminds him. "Even Angelus couldn't get out of those."

"Still, I don't like the idea of the new guy near the evil guy. First impressions and all."

"First impressions are only important if the new guy's sticking around," Spike points out.

There is a slight pause. Then, "You never know," says Gunn. "Maybe he will."

"You want him to," Spike observes.

"He's a biologist," says Gunn. "That could come in handy, right? And dirty, bloodsucking creatures of the night like yourself don't bother him. And he doesn't mind sewers. I think we could use him."

"First of all, he's only sort of a biologist," Spike counters. "Second, I'm exceptionally clean for a bloodsucking creature of the night, and third, you only like him because he reminds you of your late mate."

"Don't tell me you don't see it."

"Just saying, maybe you want to examine your motives before you start handing out destinies to innocent bystanders."

A sigh. "I'm not talking about anything permanent. Just... maybe we could ask for his help once in a while. And if we want him to hang around at all, we need to get rid of him before tall, dark, and soulless wakes up and smells the newbie."

Jacob glances at the bedside clock, his back stinging painfully at the slight movement. It's been a few hours since he fell asleep. He's a little surprised to learn that the unconscious vampire hasn't woken up yet, although if Spike has carried on hitting him in the head at regular intervals, that would explain it. He should probably tell them that the poison has worn off already just to give the poor fellow a break.

"Okay, I'm going downstairs," Gunn says. "Hey Smurfette, wanna come with?"

"That place reeks of fish and magics," Illyria sniffs. "It is displeasing to my senses."

"Come on. I'll get you a fortune cookie."

A short pause. "I go because it suits me," the woman says.

Jacob huffs a small laugh, and his back twinges. He hears the lift gate open and close, then the clatter of it moving down. Spike suddenly appears in the doorway.

"Good, you're up," he says. "Listen, you'll need to clear out in a few minutes. We're gonna wake the old man, see if he tries to kill anyone. You don't want to be around for that."

Jacob clears his throat. "Right," he says. He sits up and has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from screaming when a couple of the wounds on his back pull open again. He can feel blood start to run down his skin.

Spike frowns. "Maybe you shouldn't leave just yet," he says.

Jacob gingerly lies back down on his stomach, squeezing his eyes shut against the pain. "Thank you," he says with a nod.

Spike disappears for a moment and then returns with a damp cloth. He sits on the side of the bed and dabs gently at Jacob's back with it. "Does it hurt yet?" Spike asks.

"Yes, the spider venom has worn off completely." Jacob's answer is muffled into his pillow. "I don't think we need to worry about your friend being too happy anymore."

He waits for an answer of some kind, but there isn't one. The cloth on his back slows to a stop, but the blond continues to sit on the bed beside him. After a moment, Jacob turns his head to the side to glance up at Spike.

The vampire is staring at his wounded back, a somewhat mesmerised look on his face.

"Spike?" asks Jacob.

"Hmm?" Spike suddenly shakes his head, blinks a bit. "Sorry, what?" He starts blotting the blood from Jacob's back again quickly.

"I said the poison has worn off. Angel should be fine now."

Spike nods. "Good," he says. "That's good then. You know, I'm not the best at..." He gestures with the bloodied cloth in his hand and swallows. Abruptly, he stands up. "I'll just... they're getting a healing spell or something. You... stay here."

Jacob watches the blond walk swiftly out of the room. He turns his face back to the pillow and tries to ignore the pain in his back and shoulders. A few moments later, he hears rapid returning footsteps, and the bedroom door is pulled shut with a little more force than is probably necessary before the footsteps retreat again.

*

Illyria doesn't bother to knock when she enters the room about half an hour later. In fact, she flings the door open so hard that it hits the wall loudly, startling Jacob out of his light doze. He watches, alarmed, as she strides purposefully over to the bedside table and plunks down a steaming pot of something yellow, then turns toward the bed to stare at him.

Jacob glances from the blue woman's face to the pot and back again, trying not to move his aching back at all. Her stare is unnerving, but also - for reasons he refuses to examine - Jacob finds it strangely alluring. "Hello," he finally says.

"I have brought food," she tells him. "You must consume it at once."

Jacob looks at the pot again. "Oh. That's... very kind of you," he says. A small chunk of something white floats to the surface of the liquid. He clears his throat. "I'll... I would, but you see, I can't really move."

She tilts her head at him, unblinking.

"But thank you. For the, ah... " He sniffs, trying to identify the substance.

Illyria watches him. "It is called soup," she says. "It contains the boiled premature offspring of chickens."

Jacob stifles an amused laugh. "Of course,” he says. “Thank you very much for the soup."

“She insisted on bringing you lunch,” Gunn says from the doorway. Jacob glances up and watches Gunn wheel into the room, a large bowl of cloudy liquid balanced on his lap. He stops beside the bed. “Although I’m thinking what you really want right now is this.” He gestures to the milky substance.

“Yes, it’s just what I had in mind,” Jacob replies. He squints at the viscous fluid, wishing he had his glasses. “Please tell me it has premature chicken offspring in it. Otherwise, I might refuse to eat it.”

Gunn looks thoughtful. “Not sure. But I think it has whale sperm,” he says.

Jacob can’t tell if he’s being serious. “Oh,” he says. “In that case, hand me a spoon.”

Gunn chuckles. “You don’t have to eat it,” he explains. “It’s for your back. It’s supposed to help you heal faster.”

“Oh, thank God,” Jacob sighs. “I was beginning to think I’d never walk again.”

The man in the wheelchair gives him a small smile. “No, we wouldn’t want that,” he says quietly.

Jacob’s eyes suddenly widen. “I - oh no, I didn’t mean - I wasn’t thinking about --”

Gunn shrugs. “Forget it, man, it’s cool.”

“-- I’m so sorry. I don’t usually say things like --”

“Don’t worry about it,” Gunn reassures him. He smiles. “You actually just made me feel better.”

“I... did? About what?”

"What I'm about to do to you." Gunn picks up the bowl in one hand and holds it over Jacob’s back. Off Jacob's startled look, he adds, "Don't worry, it shouldn't be too bad." Jacob nods slowly. "It'll feel a little cold,” Gunn tells him, and then he pours the liquid out over Jacob’s body.

“Holy...!” Jacob gasps, shocked at how cold it is. The freezing fluid rolls down between his shoulder blades, seeming to condense around the worst of his scrapes and cuts. He starts to shiver. “That’s... cold,” he says. His teeth begin chattering. Some of the thick liquid drips down his side onto the bed.

“It’ll warm up,” Gunn tells him, taking a small bag from the front pouch of his sweatshirt. He opens it and reaches inside, pulling out a fistful of what looks like red sand. “This is actually going to burn a little, I think,” he says apologetically. “But it shouldn’t last very long.”

Jacob nods, clenching his teeth together. Gunn throws the red sand over his back and mutters, “Chu yu jian zhuang.”

As soon as the words are spoken, Jacob’s back starts to sizzle. The sudden heat is intense, searing. He bites his bottom lip hard, fisting the bed covers at his sides. The mixture bubbles and pops; he feels as though he’s frying eggs on his back. Yellow smoke starts to rise from his skin. It smells alarmingly like cooked meat.

Gunn and Illyria watch as Jacob tries to bear the pain with a minimum of embarrassing, high-pitched sounds.

“You said this would close his wounds,” Illyria says evenly. “Not burn his flesh as he makes noise like swine.”

“He’s okay,” Gunn says, not sounding entirely convinced. “The smoke is good. It means it’s working. Right?”

Jacob’s whole body is shaking. He squeezes his eyes closed and feels tears roll down his cheeks. His back arches up, and he’s unable to make himself lie flat again. The yellow smoke billows from his skin and he finds himself calling out without making any sense.

“Can’t tell if he’s healing or melting,” Spike comments from the doorway. “You alright, mate?” he asks Jacob.

“It should stop any second,” says Gunn. “I think.”

They all wait. Jacob continues to writhe in agony.

“Any second now,” Gunn says again.

“Looks painful,” Spike says. “Maybe we should...” Before he can finish, though, the sizzling substance on Jacob’s back lets off a final hiss, and the smoke dispels. Jacob slumps onto the bed, completely exhausted, and buries his face in the pillow. The trembling stops after a few long moments.

“There,” Gunn says, sounding pleased. “That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

Jacob tries not to cry.

Someone uses a cloth to wipe the foam from Jacob’s back. His skin is smooth; he’s completely healed. It’s as though he’s never been dragged through a tunnel by a giant blue spider at all. “Thank... you...” he mumbles into the pillow. He’s just going to lie here for a few minutes.

“Don’t mention it,” Gunn says cheerfully.

From the other bedroom, an unfamiliar voice calls out, “Does anyone else smell bacon?”

*

Jacob, Gunn, and Illyria had waited in the small bedroom while Spike checked on Angel. The other vampire didn’t sound very evil, but Spike and Gunn both insisted that they had to make sure before allowing Jacob to meet him, even though Jacob tried to reassure them that the poison had worn off already. As it turns out, it was a good thing Spike had gone in first because when he came back, he was sporting an injury that would have put either one of the humans in a hospital. Even chained naked to a bed, Angelus could be extremely dangerous.

“You said he wouldn’t be evil,” Spike points out again, irritably dabbing at the fresh bite wound with a cloth. He and Jacob are sitting on the overstuffed green couch in the main room, and Jacob has exchanged Angel's torn Armani trousers for one of Gunn's t-shirts and some rather baggy jeans. Gunn and Illyria have gone back downstairs to warn the Zhangs and to keep watch so no one comes near the restaurant while Angelus is inside.

“No, I said the poison has worn off. Technically, I made no judgment about whether or not he would be evil.” Jacob can’t help feeling a little guilty though. “I’m sorry about your arm.”

Spike pulls the bloodied cloth away and looks down at the teeth marks in his forearm. “It’ll heal in a bit. At least we know the STUPID FUCKER can’t get out.”

From the bedroom, Angelus calls, “No need to yell, Blondie Bear. I can hear every word you’re saying.”

Spike grits his teeth angrily but doesn’t respond.

“Blondie Bear?” asks Jacob.

Spike shoots him a hard glare and then pointedly turns his attention back to his arm. There’s a soft chuckle from the bedroom.

Jacob clears his throat and makes a mental note never to mention the name again. “So,” he says, “how is it exactly that we know he can’t escape?”

“The chains are magically enhanced,” Spike tells him. “Angel and I both tested them a while back; neither of us could break ‘em.”

“You chained each other up?” Jacob asks. He tries to look as though he finds that normal.

“Well, yeah.” Spike frowns. “But not like... look, it was very scientific, right? Just testing the chains. It wasn’t like we... ”

“Of course,” Jacob says.

“We’re not a couple of poofters or anything.”

Jacob nods. “Right.”

“Well, he is,” Spike amends. “But. I’m not.”

“I understand.”

“I like women,” says Spike.

“Noted,” Jacob tells him, trying not to grin.

Spike narrows his eyes suspiciously at Jacob, but then goes on. “So there’s that, and the fact that he bit me on the arm.”

“You tried to cop a feel,” Angelus calls.

“Did not!”

“Your hand was on my balls.”

“NO IT –” Spike turns fervently to Jacob. “It wasn’t!”

“I believe you,” Jacob reassures him.

“Why’d you chain me up naked anyway?” Angelus asks. “Come on, Spike. If you wanted to look so bad, you know we could have worked something out. It just so happens, I’m in a very... generous mood.”

Spike yells back at the bedroom, “’Cause I didn’t have time to sort through all your nancy Dolce and Gabbana CRAP to find something that would fit over your FAT ARSE!” He turns to Jacob again with a sigh. “I have to kill him,” he says simply. “There’s obviously no other choice.”

“He bit you on the arm,” Jacob repeats, trying to steer the conversation back on track. “And that means he can’t get out?”

“Oh. Yeah. Was just trying to annoy me, wasn’t he? If he thought he could escape by himself, he would have at least gone for the throat. This here's barely a scratch.” Spike shows Jacob his torn arm again as proof.

Jacob takes Spike’s arm and looks closely at the wound. “A bite like this, I’m surprised you haven’t bled more,” Jacob says. “See this vein?” He points to an exposed wrist vein that has been punctured and torn by a fang. “On a human, this kind of injury can be fatal due to blood loss.” As he’s saying this, Jacob realizes a bit sheepishly that the vampire would surely already know.

“Yeah,” Spike huffs. “Good thing my heart doesn’t beat, or you’d be covered head to foot in eau de Spike right about now.” A soft snicker comes from the bedroom and the blond rolls his eyes.

Jacob is staring down at Spike’s wrist, head tilted thoughtfully to one side. “Your blood doesn't flow like a human's,” he says slowly. “So... that means... of course!" He shakes his head, surprised it hadn't occurred to him sooner. Off Spike's curious look, he explains, "The poison was gradually filtered from my blood stream over the course of a few hours. Through my kidneys, one assumes. But if a vampire’s blood doesn’t flow like a human’s, then it would be natural to assume that Angel’s kidneys aren’t filtering out the poison. Right?”

Spike shrugs. “I guess.” Suddenly, a look of understanding dawns. "Ah," he says. "I see what you're getting at. He's evil 'cause he's still amped on the happy juice, but if we could... un-amp him..."

Jacob nods. "Since the happiness Angel is experiencing right now is synthetic, if we were able to take it away, maybe he’d be alright again.” He realizes he's still holding Spike’s arm and quickly releases it. “Do you think he’s actually lost his soul, or is his mind perhaps being tricked by the poison in his system? Because I assume if the soul is already gone, there's nothing we can do, but if it's just some sort of loophole in the curse...?”

“Dunno,” Spike says, covering his bite mark again with the cloth. He considers. “But even if the soul is really gone, I'd be willing to make him unhappy just to check. For a good cause and all.” He smiles. "I'm always willing to torture Angel for a good cause."

Jacob starts. “Torture?" he says. "That... that's not exactly what I was thinking... We just need to find a way to filter his blood."

Spike looks vaguely disappointed. "You sure? Because I really don't mind torturing him."

“How about we try filtering his blood first?" Jacob suggests. "If it doesn't work, you can, er, torture him later.”

“Fine," Spike agrees. "So, what do you reckon then? We take him to a dialysis center? Because they'd most likely think his kidneys were the least of his problems, what with his being dead and all." The blond frowns. "I could probably get hold of a real human kidney, but it might take a few--"

"No, no," Jacob interrupts hastily. "Let's not... do that. Actually, lacking some sort of filtration device, our best bet would be to drain his infected blood and simply replace it."

"We're going to cut him open and let him bleed out?” Spike guesses, slowly beginning to smile at the idea. “Now that’s something I believe I can get behind. If you really think it’s necessary, that is.”

“Well, he wouldn’t bleed fast enough, would he?” asks Jacob. “His wounds would heal.”

“Depends how many there were,” Spike says.

Jacob is slightly uncomfortable with the predatory look appearing in the vampire’s eyes. “Um,” he says. "What if you... I mean, this is just an idea, just something to consider, but maybe you could, sort of..." He gestures toward his teeth.

Spike raises an eyebrow, not getting it. Then suddenly he blinks in comprehension. "Oh," he says. He looks as though the idea would never have occurred to him. His mouth opens like he's going to say something else, but then he doesn't.

"Unless you don't want to," Jacob hurriedly adds, wondering if he's somehow offended the man. "Or if there's some kind of... I don't know if vampires have rules... you know, about biting one another..."

"No, it's..." Spike shakes his head. "It's nothing. Yeah. Yeah, I could do that." He's not looking at Jacob, but there's a hint of a smile beginning to tug at the corner of his mouth that Jacob isn't quite sure how to interpret. "Could be fun."

"Alright, then," Jacob says. "But I feel I should warn you. I don't know that much about vampire physiology - yet," and here he gives Spike a speculating look, "but I'm fairly certain that if you drink from him, you'll suffer the effects of the spider's venom as well."

"I get to bite Angel, and have perfect happiness? This just keeps getting better," Spike says. He's grinning now.

Jacob smiles back. "It's a brilliant feeling, let me tell you," he says. "And I'm really starting to regret not having taken some of the venom out of the tunnel with us. I mean, imagine the street value of--" Off Spike's look, he clears his throat. "Anyway. You'll not want to stop, but you probably don't need to take it all. Just enough so that he's not dangerously happy anymore - but he can still be a little bit happy, right? It's just... from what I've heard, I'd really not want to meet Angel when he's very upset. Know what I mean?"

"Leave him juiced enough so he's not angry about the trousers?"

"I'd appreciate that, thank you."

"No problem, mate. Is there anything else?"

Jacob thinks. "You should feed him afterwards. Replace the blood."

Spike nods and stands up from the couch. "I'll take care of it," he says. "Why don't you go on downstairs and wait with the others? I'll let you all know when I'm done saving the day."

From the bedroom, Jacob hears a snort of derision. He stands up. "Are you sure you don't want someone to wait up here to make sure you're alright?" he asks.

Spike grins again. "Don't worry about me," he says. Then there's a strange crunching sound, and Spike's forehead is suddenly ridged like an animal's, and his eyes have turned yellow.

Jacob takes a quick step backward and nearly stumbles over the coffee table.

Through a mouthful of very sharp-looking teeth, Spike tells him cheerfully, "This is going to make my day."

*

Continued [here].

*

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

From:

adoxerella.livejournal.com

Charlotte's Evil Web *gigglesnort* That phase made me laugh out loud.

Oh dear, I think Spike's going to enjoy his job a bit too much.

I adore your Illyria. She's fantastic, and you've got her voice dead on.

Once again, a great chapter. Thanks for sharing this.

From:

open your thighs to fate.

Fic: High (3/5)

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