Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction ❯ Chaos ❯ Angel ( Chapter 2 )
[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]
By: Heart of Warrior 
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.28.2004 | Updated On: 01.03.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 364 | Status: Completed
Anime/Manga: Cowboy Bebop Fan Fiction | Genre(s): Romance / Hentai / Drama | Type: Other | Uploaded On: 06.28.2004 | Updated On: 01.03.2006 | Pages: 2 | Words: 2.1K | Visits: 364 | Status: Completed
Chaos
By: S-chan
Chapter 2
"Spike-person?" whispered an annoyingly familiar voice.
Spike frowned and turned his head away, groaning irritably and hoping he was still just dreaming, that it wasn't possibly time to get up now. Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV was poking at his forehead with one finger, hanging upside down from a pipe. Irritated and still sleepy, Spike swatted her hand away. Damn, he was going to need a cigarette when he got up.
"Mmph... Go 'way Ed," he ordered sleepily, trying to settle back down with a soft grunt as he tried to find a softer spot on the couch cushion. "D'you have any idea what time it is?"
"It's NINE-THIRTY!!!" hollered Ed, dropping off the pipe to sit on Spike's shoulders. "Time for Spike-Spike-Spike to get up-up-uuuuuuuuuuuuup!"
Spike jerked fully awake instantly at the impact of Ed nearly snapping his neck - she had swung down from the pipe to land on her favorite perch, his shoulders. Cawing like a crow, she bounced away before he could throw her off. Ein skittered out from under the couch and went to sit in front of the refrigerator. Spike threw his head back and sighed at the prospect of another day in the loony bin otherwise known as the Bebop. He was going to get up and try to find some kind of... something to serve as breakfast. When he felt a slight movement in his lap, he froze.
The young woman he had taken in last night was waking up. One slender hand clutched his at shirt and the other held his jacket closed. A few strands of sandy-blonde hair fell over her face, hiding her eyes. Spike brushed them away and smiled bemusedly as he found striking green eyes fluttering open. He tilted his head at the young woman as she looked up at him.
"Hey," he greeted her casually, feeling like an idiot as the thought of how soft her hair was against his roughened hands flitted through his mind. "Feeling better?"
She sat bolt upright, her catlike eyes widening in fear. Spike was forcibly reminded of a cornered alley cat. His jacket slipped from the girl's thin shoulders and fell in his lap. Quickly averting his eyes, he offered her his jacket again. She made no reply to accept or deny, just sat there with her back to him, shivering. Closing his eyes to preserve her modesty, Spike wrapped his old blue jacket around her, holding it closed with his arms.
"Who are you?" whispered the girl, her voice soft, scared and slightly hoarse from what Spike guessed was infrequent use. "And where am I?"
Spike loosened his grip, still holding the jacket closed to try and protect the girl's modesty.
"Spike Spiegel," he replied, trying to act like this whole situation was totally normal. "And this flying tin can is the Bebop."
The girl sat so stiffly in his arms that tension was making her shake.
"And may I ask who you are?" asked Spike, his voice gentle - though he had no clue why he sounded that way.
The girl turned her head towards him and stared at him with a hollow, deadened look in her wide, catlike eyes.
"I don't know my real name," she replied tonelessly. "I gave myself the name Angel."
"Pretty," murmured Spike charmingly - oh yes, he knew he could melt any woman's heart without even trying hard - trying to get the young woman calm down enough to tell him what in the world was going on. "So, Angel, what's wrong? Seemed like you were in some kind of trouble..."
Angel shuddered, both from cold and fear, and Spike held her a bit closer. She tensed in his arms, still wary of his touch. Spike's gaze fell on her stained dress. His eyes trailed down to the lace on the hem that must have one been white as snow. Without thinking, he moved one hand to the lace to get a better look at it. Angel stood up with a frightened gasp, turned her ankle and immediately fell to her knees. When Spike rose to his feet to help her, she recoiled in fear once more. He tilted his head in confusion for a moment.
"What is it?" asked Spike, bending down on one knee beside her and offering a hand to help her, one eyebrow raised.
"What do you want from me?" demanded Angel, the cold effect she was trying for ruined by her shaking voice as she pulled away from him.
Spike was taken aback and very confused.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said defensively, putting his hands up to show that he meant no harm. "What do you mean what do I want?"
The look on the poor girl's face was genuinely confused.
"You mean you don't just want---?" she started uncertainly. "You aren't going to---?"
Spike tilted his head at her again, still confused and trying to figure out what in the world she was talking about. Then the words of the young man in the bar rang through his head like the alarm he had set up on the Swordfish II. That man had told her to go back to the cat house, as if he knew her. Spike felt an unpleasant shiver trail up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Though Angel tried to push him away, he took her in his arms and settled both of them on the couch.
"Angel," he said, his voice serious. "Where do you work?"
"I can't tell you," she choked out - then she panicked. "I can't go back! I don't want to go back there!"
'Sheesh! That was an overreaction if you ask me,' thought Spike.
If there was one thing Spike couldn't stand it was someone making a woman cry, whether they had hit her or not. Feeling like a cad with a capital C, he held her close, still having no idea why he was doing this. The girl who called herself Angel was shaking again, now worse than ever and something inside him was telling him to make it stop.
"Hey, I'm sorry," Spike said quickly, trying to calm her down. "I didn't mean to upset you. You can tell me later..."
Angel buried her face in Spike's shoulder, crying and choking out something he couldn't distinguish. At first, Spike couldn't figure out what to do - he wasn't really used to living with a woman and the one he was used to wasn't anything like Angel. The day Faye Valentine collapsed in his arms and cried her heart out on his shoulder was the day monkeys flew out of Jet's ass. Still unsure of himself, he moved one hand up and tentatively started stroking her hair. Spike rocked the girl back and forth slowly, trying to comfort her. Her tears soaked into his shirt.
"It's alright," Spike assured her uneasily, not really knowing what else to say. "Uh... You're safe with me... Don't cry..."
'Why in the hell am I doing this?' he thought, astonished at himself. 'I should have just left yesterday when all the trouble started... God, I'm an idiot...'
"You think you'll feel better after a shower?" he asked without thinking.
Angel pulled back from Spike's hold quick as a flash, nearly losing her balance and falling down on the floor again. Her face, except for her bruised cheek, was white. Her catlike eyes green were wide in fear.
"I thought..." she stammered softly. "But--- but you said..."
Spike was confused for a second, then smacked a hand to his forehead, laughing nervously.
"That sounded wrong, didn't it?" he said, more statement than question, and gave her a sheepish grin.
Angel returned Spike's grin with a weak smile. Spike watched her face brighten a little, though her eyes were still sad. Gently, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, tilting his head at her with a charming smile on his handsome face. When she looked at him with a questioning eye, he pulled his hand away quickly, averting his gaze.
"Bathroom's that way," he said, pointing down the hall and not looking at her. "Second door on the left. Oh and before you... uh... undress... check the shower."
Angel eyed him uneasily.
"Why check the shower?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Ed," he replied, shrugging it off as if this were the most obvious fact in the galaxy. "She sleeps in there sometimes. And if she's not in there, check anyway. She's been known to leave some pretty strange things in there from time to time."
"What!?" yelped Angel. "Who's Ed?"
"She pops up at random," said Spike, propping one foot on the coffee table and setting his other foot on his knee. "Trust me, she'll let you know when you meet her."
He grinned at her and she blushed a little.
'She's cute when she does that,' he mused, then he mentally smacked himself. 'No! Kill that thought RIGHT NOW. You swore not to get involved with anyone after Julia...'
Angel whispered a quiet "thank you" and quickly left the room. Spike watched her go, then got up to go to his room, shaking his head. He rummaged through his things until he found one of his few white shirts and went to track down "Radical Edward". For once, he actually had a use for the little fire-headed pest. He wondered if he should just knock himself out right now and hope this had all been a bad hangover.
'She can't just hang around in a bloodstained nightgown,' he reasoned, trying to justify his actions in his mind. 'I can at least give her something clean.'
Angel had no trouble finding the bathroom, which was mercifully Ed-less. Quickly locking the door, she was finally able to relax. She was glad to be rid of that stiff, blood-soaked dress and grateful for a brush to run through her hair. A shudder trailed up her spine as she realized that the ends were hardened with dried blood. All in all, she felt so dirty, and not just on her skin. It was as if she were stained, damaged somehow. Not clean enough to be loved.
Still checking over her shoulder, as if she were nervous that someone might be watching, she stepped into the shower. For a moment, she was content just to stand there and let the warm water wash over her as steam surrounded her. The gentle heat was perfect for her sore joints and strained muscles. She shuddered, remembering what had happened to her yesterday. He had been so rough with her, but the ache was eased as the heat helped her relax. She even smiled a little at the bottles of strawberry-scented shampoo and conditioner.
'Strawberry...' she thought. 'My favorite... Always has been...'
Finding a clean - though old - washcloth and some exfoliating scrub (Faye's, obviously), Angel eyed both items uneasily. That was the same thing they had made her and her coworkers use to keep their skin soft. There was also half a bar of white soap, but she wasn't touching that, since it obviously belonged to the men of the Bebop and also looked somewhat unsanitary... She squeezed out a little of that exfoliating scrub and started methodically going over her whole body. For some reason, the feeling wasn't so bad anymore. Soon Angel felt cleaner than she had in so long. Anything was better than that bloody dress.
By: S-chan
Chapter 2
"Spike-person?" whispered an annoyingly familiar voice.
Spike frowned and turned his head away, groaning irritably and hoping he was still just dreaming, that it wasn't possibly time to get up now. Edward Wong Hau Pepelu Tivrusky IV was poking at his forehead with one finger, hanging upside down from a pipe. Irritated and still sleepy, Spike swatted her hand away. Damn, he was going to need a cigarette when he got up.
"Mmph... Go 'way Ed," he ordered sleepily, trying to settle back down with a soft grunt as he tried to find a softer spot on the couch cushion. "D'you have any idea what time it is?"
"It's NINE-THIRTY!!!" hollered Ed, dropping off the pipe to sit on Spike's shoulders. "Time for Spike-Spike-Spike to get up-up-uuuuuuuuuuuuup!"
Spike jerked fully awake instantly at the impact of Ed nearly snapping his neck - she had swung down from the pipe to land on her favorite perch, his shoulders. Cawing like a crow, she bounced away before he could throw her off. Ein skittered out from under the couch and went to sit in front of the refrigerator. Spike threw his head back and sighed at the prospect of another day in the loony bin otherwise known as the Bebop. He was going to get up and try to find some kind of... something to serve as breakfast. When he felt a slight movement in his lap, he froze.
The young woman he had taken in last night was waking up. One slender hand clutched his at shirt and the other held his jacket closed. A few strands of sandy-blonde hair fell over her face, hiding her eyes. Spike brushed them away and smiled bemusedly as he found striking green eyes fluttering open. He tilted his head at the young woman as she looked up at him.
"Hey," he greeted her casually, feeling like an idiot as the thought of how soft her hair was against his roughened hands flitted through his mind. "Feeling better?"
She sat bolt upright, her catlike eyes widening in fear. Spike was forcibly reminded of a cornered alley cat. His jacket slipped from the girl's thin shoulders and fell in his lap. Quickly averting his eyes, he offered her his jacket again. She made no reply to accept or deny, just sat there with her back to him, shivering. Closing his eyes to preserve her modesty, Spike wrapped his old blue jacket around her, holding it closed with his arms.
"Who are you?" whispered the girl, her voice soft, scared and slightly hoarse from what Spike guessed was infrequent use. "And where am I?"
Spike loosened his grip, still holding the jacket closed to try and protect the girl's modesty.
"Spike Spiegel," he replied, trying to act like this whole situation was totally normal. "And this flying tin can is the Bebop."
The girl sat so stiffly in his arms that tension was making her shake.
"And may I ask who you are?" asked Spike, his voice gentle - though he had no clue why he sounded that way.
The girl turned her head towards him and stared at him with a hollow, deadened look in her wide, catlike eyes.
"I don't know my real name," she replied tonelessly. "I gave myself the name Angel."
"Pretty," murmured Spike charmingly - oh yes, he knew he could melt any woman's heart without even trying hard - trying to get the young woman calm down enough to tell him what in the world was going on. "So, Angel, what's wrong? Seemed like you were in some kind of trouble..."
Angel shuddered, both from cold and fear, and Spike held her a bit closer. She tensed in his arms, still wary of his touch. Spike's gaze fell on her stained dress. His eyes trailed down to the lace on the hem that must have one been white as snow. Without thinking, he moved one hand to the lace to get a better look at it. Angel stood up with a frightened gasp, turned her ankle and immediately fell to her knees. When Spike rose to his feet to help her, she recoiled in fear once more. He tilted his head in confusion for a moment.
"What is it?" asked Spike, bending down on one knee beside her and offering a hand to help her, one eyebrow raised.
"What do you want from me?" demanded Angel, the cold effect she was trying for ruined by her shaking voice as she pulled away from him.
Spike was taken aback and very confused.
"Hey, I'm just trying to help," he said defensively, putting his hands up to show that he meant no harm. "What do you mean what do I want?"
The look on the poor girl's face was genuinely confused.
"You mean you don't just want---?" she started uncertainly. "You aren't going to---?"
Spike tilted his head at her again, still confused and trying to figure out what in the world she was talking about. Then the words of the young man in the bar rang through his head like the alarm he had set up on the Swordfish II. That man had told her to go back to the cat house, as if he knew her. Spike felt an unpleasant shiver trail up his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. Though Angel tried to push him away, he took her in his arms and settled both of them on the couch.
"Angel," he said, his voice serious. "Where do you work?"
"I can't tell you," she choked out - then she panicked. "I can't go back! I don't want to go back there!"
'Sheesh! That was an overreaction if you ask me,' thought Spike.
If there was one thing Spike couldn't stand it was someone making a woman cry, whether they had hit her or not. Feeling like a cad with a capital C, he held her close, still having no idea why he was doing this. The girl who called herself Angel was shaking again, now worse than ever and something inside him was telling him to make it stop.
"Hey, I'm sorry," Spike said quickly, trying to calm her down. "I didn't mean to upset you. You can tell me later..."
Angel buried her face in Spike's shoulder, crying and choking out something he couldn't distinguish. At first, Spike couldn't figure out what to do - he wasn't really used to living with a woman and the one he was used to wasn't anything like Angel. The day Faye Valentine collapsed in his arms and cried her heart out on his shoulder was the day monkeys flew out of Jet's ass. Still unsure of himself, he moved one hand up and tentatively started stroking her hair. Spike rocked the girl back and forth slowly, trying to comfort her. Her tears soaked into his shirt.
"It's alright," Spike assured her uneasily, not really knowing what else to say. "Uh... You're safe with me... Don't cry..."
'Why in the hell am I doing this?' he thought, astonished at himself. 'I should have just left yesterday when all the trouble started... God, I'm an idiot...'
"You think you'll feel better after a shower?" he asked without thinking.
Angel pulled back from Spike's hold quick as a flash, nearly losing her balance and falling down on the floor again. Her face, except for her bruised cheek, was white. Her catlike eyes green were wide in fear.
"I thought..." she stammered softly. "But--- but you said..."
Spike was confused for a second, then smacked a hand to his forehead, laughing nervously.
"That sounded wrong, didn't it?" he said, more statement than question, and gave her a sheepish grin.
Angel returned Spike's grin with a weak smile. Spike watched her face brighten a little, though her eyes were still sad. Gently, he tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, tilting his head at her with a charming smile on his handsome face. When she looked at him with a questioning eye, he pulled his hand away quickly, averting his gaze.
"Bathroom's that way," he said, pointing down the hall and not looking at her. "Second door on the left. Oh and before you... uh... undress... check the shower."
Angel eyed him uneasily.
"Why check the shower?" she asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes.
"Ed," he replied, shrugging it off as if this were the most obvious fact in the galaxy. "She sleeps in there sometimes. And if she's not in there, check anyway. She's been known to leave some pretty strange things in there from time to time."
"What!?" yelped Angel. "Who's Ed?"
"She pops up at random," said Spike, propping one foot on the coffee table and setting his other foot on his knee. "Trust me, she'll let you know when you meet her."
He grinned at her and she blushed a little.
'She's cute when she does that,' he mused, then he mentally smacked himself. 'No! Kill that thought RIGHT NOW. You swore not to get involved with anyone after Julia...'
Angel whispered a quiet "thank you" and quickly left the room. Spike watched her go, then got up to go to his room, shaking his head. He rummaged through his things until he found one of his few white shirts and went to track down "Radical Edward". For once, he actually had a use for the little fire-headed pest. He wondered if he should just knock himself out right now and hope this had all been a bad hangover.
'She can't just hang around in a bloodstained nightgown,' he reasoned, trying to justify his actions in his mind. 'I can at least give her something clean.'
Angel had no trouble finding the bathroom, which was mercifully Ed-less. Quickly locking the door, she was finally able to relax. She was glad to be rid of that stiff, blood-soaked dress and grateful for a brush to run through her hair. A shudder trailed up her spine as she realized that the ends were hardened with dried blood. All in all, she felt so dirty, and not just on her skin. It was as if she were stained, damaged somehow. Not clean enough to be loved.
Still checking over her shoulder, as if she were nervous that someone might be watching, she stepped into the shower. For a moment, she was content just to stand there and let the warm water wash over her as steam surrounded her. The gentle heat was perfect for her sore joints and strained muscles. She shuddered, remembering what had happened to her yesterday. He had been so rough with her, but the ache was eased as the heat helped her relax. She even smiled a little at the bottles of strawberry-scented shampoo and conditioner.
'Strawberry...' she thought. 'My favorite... Always has been...'
Finding a clean - though old - washcloth and some exfoliating scrub (Faye's, obviously), Angel eyed both items uneasily. That was the same thing they had made her and her coworkers use to keep their skin soft. There was also half a bar of white soap, but she wasn't touching that, since it obviously belonged to the men of the Bebop and also looked somewhat unsanitary... She squeezed out a little of that exfoliating scrub and started methodically going over her whole body. For some reason, the feeling wasn't so bad anymore. Soon Angel felt cleaner than she had in so long. Anything was better than that bloody dress.