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Empathy Sucks - Chapter 7


‘Wake up, Spike.’


‘Spike! Wake up.’

‘Bugger offfffffff. Fuck off, you total bully…it’s…Angel, it’s not even 7.30, it’s 7.28! Fuck off! I am NOT getting up!’

Things don’t change much when it comes to Spike. But this is getting ridiculous.

‘Spike, you’ve…we’ve been in bed for just under twenty four hours. I should have thought that was enough for anyone. Now get up. I want to start on your second lesson this morning. Instead of going to the office too early. Now get up, or I’ll get you up – and not in the nice sense of that.’

‘Yeah, you and whose…alright, alright…getting up. Bully.’

I obviously pitched Lesson one at too high a level for Spike. Getting up for the office was clearly too traumatic for him. I’ve decided to start on something easier, more achievable. Less swearing involved. What he really needs is to start developing his mental stamina. He needs to be able to concentrate, think through situations, not rush in impetuously, not let things get him down. So, I’ll start him on some meditation exercises. Or maybe something physical would be better. Yes, he’s better at the physical. Alright. Yoga. I’ll start him on some beginners’ yoga positions. Perfect. He’ll like that, I’m sure.

‘You fucking what? If you think I’m gonna wear tights and prance around like a fuckin’ fairy, you’d better stake yourself right now, cus if you try an’ make me do it, I’ll stake you meself.’

Oh God, why can’t anything be simple with him, why does everything have to be such a struggle? Think of redemption. Don’t rise to it. ‘Yoga, Spike, not Ballet. There is a bit of a difference.’

‘Don’t patronize me, you git. I know what fuckin’ yoga is and I’ve seen people wearing tights. An’ incense. I’m not burning any friggin’ incense.‘

‘None of that is compulsory, it’s all optional. There are many sorts of Yoga. We’ll start on the Warrior position, alright? And you can wear your old combat pants if you want. Anything, as long as it’s loose.’

‘Oh, Ok.’ Warrior stuff, like the sound of that. I may just let Lesson two go Angel’s way. I love violence. I want to kill stuff. This sounds promising.

There is something fundamentally sick about this. Vampires DO NOT stand pretending to be mountains and squeezing their buttocks. I don’t eat salad and I don’t fucking do yoga. I thought warrior meant I’d get to kill something, not this. This is pathetic. I wanted blood and guts, eyeballs and entrails. What did I get? Fucking squeezing me buttocks for half an hour.

‘Spike, concentrate. This is a very powerful position. You are the peaceful warrior. You are determined. You are invincible. You are strong. Yet you are relaxed. You are relaxing into this posture of strength. You are calm. You are in control.’

Fuck up, just shut the fuck up, you’re freaking me out. I’ll be saving friggin’ trees in a minute. I’m going back to the crypt. I swear I am. Don’t want this Sire/Mentor crap anymore.

‘Right, let’s try the Spinal Roll. It will increase your suppleness and strength.’

Nothin’ wrong with my fuckin’ suppleness, mate. Uh huh! Now that’s interesting. The ole Sire maybe strong, all those fuckin’ muscles…just perfect. But he ain’t all that supple. Cus I remember a little incident way back when he was a proper, fun demon. And I think I’ll just resurrect it for me Lesson two. Oh yeah. His Lesson two is about to come to an interesting and abrupt end. He thinks this is gonna be about increasing me fucking mental discipline...he just wants to turn me into a brood boy like him. Too much mental discipline’s his fuckin’ major problem. He needs to let go a little. Release control. An’ I’ve just thought of the perfect way to make him do just that. Spike’s Lesson two coming up.

‘Will you stay down here and practice the exercise I’ve showed you? Honestly, Spike, you’ll enjoy it when you get into it. You’ll feel more in control of yourself. Stronger.’ Please, Spike, just cooperate with me. For once. Please.

‘Yeah. OK, mate. I think I will practice this stuff a bit. I’ll do some Spinal Rolls and shit while you’re in the office. You coming down later though, luv?’

Thank God, he’s accepted Lesson two. ‘Yes, alright, I’ll come down in an hour and see how you’re getting on. But I won’t be able to stay. I must do a proper day’s work today. After yesterday. It’s not fair on the others.’

So, within an hour we’ll be back in bed. Shagging and doing some other interesting stuff. Demon stuff. Mark my words. Poof’s Lesson-fuckin’-two about to bite the dust.

So I do practice me spinal rolls. Not quite the way they are in the poof’s manual. No, not quite. Similar though. Just better. More interesting. But I practice hard. Want it to be perfect for the poof when he comes down.

There’s a mound of paperwork on my desk when I come into the office. I almost wonder if Spike is right. Perhaps vampires shouldn’t have to do this stuff. It’s agony and boring. But it’s my redemption. Another way I can suffer. God, I wish I could concentrate. What’s he doing? There is no way I believe he is actually practicing yoga down there on his own. Not Spike. But what is he up to? Whatever it is, it won’t distract me today. Lesson two is working out very well. But one quick visit downstairs won’t stop that.

Strange, he’s not in the living room. And it’s very quiet. Surely he hasn’t disobeyed me and gone back to bed? I feel my ire rising at just the thought of such disobedience. He’s running rings round me and I’m letting him. He’s using sex to distract me from my aim. Well no more. This time it won’t work. Whatever he’s doing. I walk angrily over to the bedroom.

‘Spike, if you’re in here…noooo…oh my God…I don’t believe it.’

Tee hee, nothing like being real supple you know. Amazing what you can reach when you are. Poof seems to be impressed anyway. Don’t even need to breath either. Perfect. Wonder if he remembers.

I don’t know whether this is more disgusting, or erotic. There’s a fine line between them sometimes. Depends on the circumstances, I suppose. I stand here watching with fascination as Spike, sitting crossed legged in the middle of my bed, sucks his own cock. Well, he’s certainly put the Spinal Roll to good use. I feel the two parts of my psyche warring with each other to react to this sight. My souled half, revolted. The act seeming indecent, obscene. But the demon in me? Oh my demon is hard. Agonizingly hard. But not from passion. Oh no, Angelus has a blinding white fury erupting from him. Angelus remembers a night, lifetimes ago, when he tried to do just this. And couldn’t. And had to watch infuriated while his own Childe could do it with ease. Oh, but he also remembers that said Childe was forbidden from ever doing it again. No way was Angelus going to let a Childe of his have that much pleasure without him.

How dare he disobey me now. And how dare he do this act which I can’t. So the demon wins. Almost without my control, I feel my fangs descend and a deep growling starts in my chest. I throw myself onto him, ripping his mouth away and putting mine in its place. I bite his cock with a sharp, painful, piercing motion and he lets out a gasp. I haven’t lost control like this in a long time and it feels so good. Like violence. Like blood. The need to just let go overpowers me. How dare he disobey me, how dare he suck himself when that mouth should be on my cock, my mouth only, on his. As I lick and suck at the blood leaking from the tip of his cock, I feel a whole new level of the Sire/Childe relationship is going to be explored today. This is not what I intended when I brought him to LA, but it’s what I intend today.

I tear my mouth away from his cock and push him flat onto the bed, pinning his arms above his head. I rip out my belt and use it to tie his wrists together and to the iron frame of the bed. He’s laughing because he’s entirely misinterpreting what is happening here in this bed. He doesn’t take the leather belt seriously because he knows he could break free at any time. And he knows I know, he knows. But he’s missed the point because what he doesn’t know is that the belt is only a temporary restraint until I can reach for what Cordelia calls my, ‘grr face kit’. I feel like going grrr a little now. Only I won’t be the one chained. With a sharp, fearful, unnecessary intake of breath, Spike signals his growing understanding when he sees the manacles in my hand. Too late he struggles to break free of the belt, but I clamp the metal bracelets around his wrists, effectively imprisoning him on the bed. I leave his legs unrestrained, nothing like a little writhing and wriggling when the pain gets really bad to make it all fun. I survey my handiwork with pleasure. His bleeding cock is the only colour on his otherwise cold, hard, white body. It’s erotic, the sight of that red blood trickling down across the exposed, vulnerable end of this cock which was so recently enjoying pleasure from his own mouth. The thought of that act infuriates me again. How dare he abuse my teachings like that. How dare he think I would be so infatuated by the sight that I would stay down here with him. So he could again corrupt the lesson.

I feel Angelus writhing to release himself from his deep, strong cage. He hasn’t been allowed this close to the surface for a very long time. The sight of Spike’s blood, the manacles and his look of fear provide a very potent playing field for the demon inside me. With some effort I manage to contain him, but his influence is ever present. Spike starts to speak, so I straddle his chest and press my hand firmly to his mouth.

‘No, Spike. Not a word. I don’t want to hear your voice, your opinions, your swearing or your abuse. You will be quiet. Do you understand?’ I release my hand.

‘Fuck off, you bully…ugh.’

I slap him across the face. Hard. His eyes open wide in what I take to be fear and shock. The vulnerability of his position suddenly seems to strike home and he starts trying to violently buck me off.

‘Fuck off, Angel. This isn’t funny any more, let me…NO!’

I hit him again. Harder. Blood comes to the side of his mouth. I bend over to lick it up greedily and he tries to tear his face away from me, not wanting this intimate act with me now. I grab his lower lip with my teeth and just look at him. Like someone with their arm caught by a pit bull terrier, Spike suddenly becomes very still and very quiet. For the first time since I brought him to this city. I sit back up on his chest, testing his new resolve. He stays still and quiet, watching me warily.

What now? My fury is dissipating and I’m starting to feel bad about hitting him. Not that he didn’t deserve the lesson, only that it has probably ruined all the work I was trying to do. Do as I say, not as I do. Just as I’m about to apologize to Spike and climb off, he seizes the opportunity of my obvious distraction to violently twist and jerk his body, effectively throwing me off to the floor. As I land, I strike my head on the iron edge of the bed. I feel blood trickling down into one eye. And he’s laughing at me. At ME! And I lose it. Loose it. Loose him. I let Angelus out to play for a while. He seizes the leather belt from the floor and brings in down in a furious storm of lashes against Spike’s imprisoned body.

‘No, Angel. Stop him. I’m sorry. It was just a friggin’ joke, mate. Angel. Do something!’

I hear his plea but Angelus is stronger, the sight and smell of the blood lending potency to his temporary control over me. I don’t know what would have happened if at that moment, with Spike bleeding on the bed and me with the bloody, leather strap in my hand, if at that moment, the phone hadn’t rung. That normal, daytime, office sound brought me back to my own self and I put Angelus, screaming, back into his box and firmly shut the lid. I speak quietly to Cordelia, reassuring her that I am alright and that the screaming she had heard was just training, but that I wouldn’t be back up today. That Spike still needed me. That I would see her tomorrow.

How can I go back in there? What have I done here in these acts today? I brought this vulnerable, needy creature to live with me so I could teach him, protect him, be his Sire again. And I have betrayed his trust. I have taught him only that those that should most love and care for him can hurt and abuse him. That I am not what I have tried to be. What I thought I had become. I am fallible, and I have surely failed with him.