violence, people. You asked for it, you got it, but it's not as bad as i can do, but we're getting somewhere, i think.
review please.
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Cassie held Little Spike in her arms as she walked down the stairs. Setting him on the highchair in the kitchen, she set about fixing him a plate of food, as her mum finished cooking, and was dishing out the food.
Tim came in, and helped with carrying the other plates in the dining room for the rest of the family.
"Ready for din-din's, Will?" Cassie asked, giving Spike an escimo kiss.
He resisted quirking his eyebrow, instead, he forced a childish smile on his face, and nodded. "Yum!"
His stomach rumbled loudly, reminding him that he hadn't really had anything in a few days/weeks-it felt to him.
"Well, it certainly *sounds* like you are." She smiled. "Stay there." She went into the dining room, and set his plate on the table. Returning to the kitchen, she picked him up, and carried him to the dining room, setting him on his booster seat.
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After dinner, which was full of mild discussions and laughs, they all settled into the living room, while Tim did the dishes, insisting he do the dishes, actually.
"C'mon, Will, bed time." Cassie said, picking him up yet again.
With a glance at the clock hung on the wall, it told him that it was only eight-thirty p.m. He pouted. "But..."
"Nope, not gonna cut it, Mister." She nodded firmly, mounting the stairs.
He added the affect of puppy dog eyes, all please-take-pity-on-me-because-i'm-so-young-and-your-little-baby-boy look. "I'm no' tired." He whined.
"You will be, as soon as your head hits you pillow."
She set him on the little dressing table, peeling his clothes from him, and putting him in dark blue pj's, with little stars and aliens on them. They were his favourite pair. He shook his head roughly. Not *his* favourite pair, *William's* favourite pair.
Cassie sat in the rocking chair beside his cot, Her child cuddled in her arms. Softly, she began singing to him, seeing as his eyes were wide, and awake.
As Little Spike's eyes began to drope, yet another memory faded slowly from his memory, as if a car that was holding them, was driving down into a pit while he stood there, unable to move, to keep them.
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/ The place where Spike's memory had resided, another took its place. It was closer, a recent memory, but one which wasn't quite his...
William was on his mother's lap for the first time in his very young life. She sang softly to him, gently rocking him to sleep. She smiled at her newborn baby, so small, and smelling of baby powder. He had soft, really light brown hair slightly spurting from his scalp, and he yawned a wide, toothless yawn.
Just before he drifted, he looked up to see his mum's gently, loving, young, smiling face. Her eyes were filled with love and adoration, and William felt very safe. Allowing his eyes to close, he listened to his mother's words before he was succumed to sleep.
"I love you, William, with my whole heart."
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(FLASH)
William was sitting outside, in the garden, while all the grown-ups had a picnic, celebrating his first birthday. He sat by the door, knees drawn up, watching.
His grandfather, Liam, came out of the house, carrying the crisps his uncle, Connor, had insisted on. Young William loved Ready Salted crisps, because he could just suck on them, till the flavour melts away on his tongue, and they become thin like paper in his mouth.
"C'mon, Will, it's your birthday we're celebrating." His uncle Connor said, smiling slightly. "Don't ya want some cake?"
All William wanted was to know what he wanted. And he wanted to know why he didn't have a daddy like his mum and her siblings had. Even Tim's wife had a mummy *and* a daddy, so why didn't he?
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(FLASH)
Cassie was putting William to bed. Almost two years old, and still so small, and thin, and pale. There was nothing wrong with him, but he looked *too* fragile, too thin, too pale. But as cute as Hell, she thought with a soft smile.
Then William looked up at her, almost asleep.
"Mummy, why no I have a daddy?" He asked, eyes wide and innocent.
Instantly, the smile faded from her face. Her eyes became sad, and glistened with tears.
"Er...daddy, went away, honey. He was..." -an evil bastard. A stange man who raped me- she thought disgustingly. -The only good thing that came of it was my baby-. Her baby, who was currently gazing at her with wide, striken eyes.
"I'm sowwy, mummy. Please, don't cry."
"Daddy's just...away, William. He's very...busy."
"Will he be coming back?
-I hope not-. Outwradly, she smiled. "Maybe."
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(FLASH)
The big, burly, man bundled a struggling Cassie into the darkened alley. Drunkely, he ripped her trousers and undergarments from her body, baring her lower body so completely to his lust-filled eyes.
"Beautiful. Bloody beautiful, you are, girl." He kept her pinned to the floor, hand tied behind her back with string, the bindings cutting into her flesh, making her bleed. The man's big hand covered her mouth, muffling her screams and sobs, and cried.
He licked his lips, gazing at his reluctant, petrified, sacrifice.
Without another word, he yanked his own jeans and undergarment to his knees, and violently thrust up into her virginal passage.
She screamed through his hand, crying louder, futily struggling to get away.
He thrust hard and relentless against her, enjoying her struggling, her tightness, her cries.
With what seemed like an eternity, of listening to him grunt and moan in pleasure, he buried himself deep in her, finally allowing his full lenght to enter her, touch her crevis, which made her scream painfully.
While some people found pleasure at hacing their crevis bumbed, Cassie did not.
He writhed and shuddered uncontrollably as he came, burried as far as he could go in her, spilling his seed into her, joining them in more ways that one.
He ran, leaning no trace of his being. He'd wiped her down, of his prints and objects. Only his seed and the memory remained.
Cassie bundled in on herself, and laid there, crying pitiously, still bare for those who dares to venture the dark alleyways.
Unsure of how long after, someone found her, and called the cops, and an ambulance, and, because the woman was panicking, a fire engine./
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Cassie watched as her little boy tossed and turned in his cot, sorrow etched on his face, tears about to run down his face.
But when he stopped, just went limp, she cautiously moved away, and into her own room.
Though she hated the fact that she had been used like that, and was ashamed at how William was concieved, she never once regretted the fact that she'd given birth, that she had *life* growing *inside* of her, her own body.
She loved Will, too much, she thought sometimes, and would never give him up.
He was her baby boy.
Her William. Will.
Hers, period.
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Spike woke with a start, covered in a cold sweat, undoubtably unnoticable by his visitor. He went limp, and when he felt the person move away, albiet reluctantly, he sat up.
He threw the coveres off of his small body.
Once realising he was too small to climb over the wooden bars, he unlocked them, practicaly falling out of his crib in his haste.
Tears running down his face like a marathon, and full of seething hatred, so pure, so deep, to simply call it hatred would be an insult, he began to destroy everything and anything in his way. He maybe mortal now, and in a tiny, weak mortal body, but destroy, he could.
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Both Angel and Connor woke to the smell of tears, and hatred, and deep, troubling sorrow. Both shot out of bed, out of the respective bedrooms, meeting together in the hallway.
Their heightened senses led them to William's room, where things had gotten loud, and noisy.
Opening the door, they saw Spike had destroyed half of the wood, gaining strength enough to know down drsser draws three times his size, gaining strength the way panicked grandparents can haul a two-ton car off their grandchild, trapped beneath.
Connor grabbed the mini tornado, easily pinned him to the floor, and he cried and struggled and cured.
"Let me the fuck go!" He screamed. "Get. Off. Of. Me!"
The family that had reamined in the house, were finally up and in the room. Cassie saw the state of the room, and immediately gasped.
Her eyes fled her to Connor holding down her small, fragile child.
.........Who was currently swearing loudly at Connor, and everything in general, uttering curses that she *knew* he hadn't heard before.
"Wha...what happened?" She asked.
"We don't know." Angel said. "It appears-"
His 'wife' cut him off. "*William* did this?"
"Apparently." Connor grunted.
"Lemme go!" Little Spike screamed at the top of his little lungs, thrashing about in his impossibly strong grip. "Bloody hell! Get off me!"
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Eventually, much to the relieve of everyone, Spike's young, mortal body tired itself out with his screaming, and he fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
"What could've happened?" Cassie asked, tears streaming down his face. "He was fine earlier."
"Did you see anythin' wierd while he slept of, y'know, before?" Gunn asked. He'd come by immediately when Angel had called him, but Illyria had remained home...asleep, if she could, in fact, sleep.
"He was tossing and turning earlier." She recalled. "With tears down his face. He looked so sad. And then...he stopped. That's when I went into my own room. I knew h'ed worked through his nightmare, though it killed me not to wake him." She put her face in her hands, distraught. Connor embraced her, comforting her.
"It's ok." He said. "We'll sort it." He looked over at Angel and Gunn as he said the last part, seeing his determination mirrored in each of their eyes.
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Spike didn't wake until late evening. He turned onto his back slowly, rubbing his little eyes open.
It took him a few moments, but he finally gained full conciousness. Looking around, he noted that he was in Connor's room, in his bed.
Connor, he saw after a moment, was sitting beside the bed, reading a comic book.
Slowly he sat, and Connor's attention was on him.
"You're awake." He said.
"Yeah." He said slowly.
"Don't go anywhere." Connor said, stood, and left the room, closing the door behind him.
"Like I could, now." He muttered. "Can't reach the soddin' thing."
He tried to figure out *why* he was in Connor's room, and not in the pj's he'd been in when he'd first gone to sleep.
"Somethin' 'bout a dream..."
The door opened, and Connor walked back in, followed by Angel and Gunn.
They looked him, somewhat wary, but he didn't notice them. He was trying to remember 'the dream'.
After a moment, it *all* came back to him.
He stood, ignoring the dizziness. His eyes were wide, and full of sadness, tears started to fall down his cheek. His body slumped in resign, yet he suddenly charged at Angel, but the now human Angel easily caught him, and wrapped his small frame up in his arms. He struggled.
"Spike. Spike!" He tried. "William!"
Little Spike froze. It sounded like Angelus scolding the young fledgling William, a threat in his voice with the warning to behave, or that he was due a thrashin'. Yet it also sounded like William's grandfather, disciplining his young grandchild.
"That's better." Angel began, but didn't let him go. "Now, tell me what's going on with you."
He shook his head violently, pouting.
"William..." He sing-songed in *that* voice. Definately Angelus-like.
Since he was going to answer sooner or later, Spike griped out from gritted teeth, in an angry voice, "Oh, I don't know...could be the fact that this body was convieved from a rapist! And you all bloody knew!" More tears escaped his eyes, despite how hard he tried to stop them. "And i'm loosin' me memory of...me, and gaining more and more memory of...his...mine, whatever." He struggled for a moment, then stopped again, still tense. "Now let me go!"
All three paused at the new information they had just recieved. They grieved for what had happened, but not really to *them* them.
They couldn't compare how Spike's memory of the night, so vived, so real, to anything they had ever felt before.
He was the son of a rapist.
He was the result of rape on a young woman, beraly more than a girl.
He was the embodiment, the symbol of his 'father'.
He looked like the man, he had his eyes, and cheekbones.
He was disgusted.
Eventually, he fell into another exhausted sleep, and Angel, Connor and Gunn began to discuss how to make up a story to tell the others, and get Spike to go along with it.
They also thought of ways to...help Spike in some way with the memory, the grief, the ultimate anger.
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Well, whaddya think?
Be brutal
Revie, *PLEASE*
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