NOTE: Dru was dusted in Prague, not merely hurt.
DISCLAIMER: They're all mine! Mine, I tell you. Mi- ~ZAP! BOOM!~ *whimpers and beats at smoking clothing* ...not mine... *cough* ...they're Joss Whedon's... *sways and falls over onto ass* ...oooo bloody hell that hurt...
Ten years ago
Flamingo Boulevard, Las Vegas (by the I-15 overpass)
Spike looked around at the bright neon lights blinking and glittering all along Las Vegas Boulevard with a smirk on his handsome face. Acrid smoke from his cigarette swirled around his head as he turned to look down into the deep dark brown eyes of the small child clinging to his hand. Such beautiful big eyes under a dark shock of unruly curls peering up at him with an odd mixture of fear and hope.
The dirty drunken human had called the child Alexander. And the child had called the man Daddy. Well, it seems that Daddy had taken the family on a vacation to Sin City and then made a huge mistake. He had gotten into a high stakes poker game in the back room of a demon bar...and lost. To Spike.
When the human realized that he couldn't cover his bets he had offered up his only child as payment. With a shrug and a grin, Spike had graciously accepted the boy as compensation of the human's debt to him.
Then, just to test the mettle of the brat, he had vamped out and killed the boy's father in front of him. The boy hadn't even flinched. The child, maybe six years of age, was no stranger to violence. While that would make raising the whelp easier for him, a tiny part of him felt a twinge of pity for the boy.
The child was quiet, he didn't question or try to get away from Spike as he led him past the blinking lights and painted whores towards the deep shadows of an ill lit parking garage. Together they walked side by side until Spike got bored with slowing his pace to match the child's tiny stride and he leaned down, reaching for him with both hands. Alexander, still calm and silent, merely reached up to him with both arms raised and allowed himself to be picked up and carried. By the time Spike had made it to the far corner of the lot where his beloved DeSoto was parked, the whelp had his head pillowed against Spike's leather duster covered shoulder.
"Come on Pet. Climb on into the car for Spike, now."
Slayer's junior year at sunnydale high
Library, Sunnydale High School
Buffy sat at the research table in the library flipping through a book on various martial arts techniques. She looked up when the doors swung open. Bouncing with her usual over abundance of energy, the only person besides her Watcher to share her secret came in with a huge grin on her gentle features. Willow's deep auburn hair shone in the light and her green eyes sparkled with excitement.
"Willow! What's got you in such a perky type mood?"
The red haired girl bounced up on her toes and took a deep breath in order to begin her tale. The blonde Slayer grinned.
"Oh! I just got back from talking to Oz and he told me that his band, the Dingoes, is playing at the Bronze tonight. I was thinking that since vampy activity has been sort of slow lately that you might want to go with me after patrol. We could be all supportive of Oz and the guys and, you know, just have a bit of fun."
Buffy couldn't help but feel a bit of Willow's enthusiasm rub off on her. Plus it would give her an excuse to spend time around Angel that was not of the do-or-die variety. The guy was tall, dark and handsome, that was true, but he really needed to relax and enjoy himself more often. The Slayer gave an internal grimace. Actually, it wouldn't hurt if she did a little socializing either.
"Okay Willow. Sounds great. Tonight after patrol, we'll Bronze it."
City Limits, Sunnydale CA
Belching oily smoke from it's tailpipes and kicking up stones and pebbles from beneath it's tires, a big black DeSoto with hand-painted flames down it's sides and blacked out windows came barreling over the curb and headed directly for the city limits sign.
Welcome to Sunnydale
"Woohoo! Did you see that Pet? Lovely spot of mischief that was, eh?"
The bleached blonde demon turned his head to look over at the dark haired teen with the unruly dark curls and the chocolate drop eyes. The boy's face was stretched into a wide smile and his laughter blended in with the thrash metal rock blasting out of the speakers.
"The Hellmouth isn't gonna know what hit 'em."
Spike smirked at his boy and tossed a cigarette into his mouth. A quick flip-twist of his wrist had his zippo lighter out and lit. In mere seconds acrid blue-gray smoke curled up around his head.
"No Pet, we're gonna knock 'em all on their lovely fat arses, we will."
The Bronze, Sunnydale CA
Angel looked around at the ever shifting crowds of young people, desperately trying to figure out what it was that was setting Angelus to rattling inside his mental cage. Loud music pounded through the sound system with a pulsing grinding back beat, the air was drenched with the mouth watering scents of hot rushing adrenaline filled blood, clean sweat and pheromones. The younger high school aged teens were slowly thinning out of the crowd only to be replaced by the older college aged ones. Dim lights flashed and the press of humans swayed to a rhythm of lust and innocence.
Nothing seemed out of place. Nothing called out to his eyes or his ears. Nothing pulled in the attention of his devious and sharp mind as being wrong, and yet... something had changed.
Something called to him, cried out to him. There was a dark foreboding in everything he saw, in everything he touched. He had to work extra hard to repress Angelus behind his human soul. To push away the dark urge to hunt and hurt and kill. Closing his eyes to shut out the sight of the bewitchingly tempting live humans writhing to the music on the dancefloor didn't help. It only provided him with a black backdrop for his mind to paint lush images of pain filled dying humans, writhing in a growing pool of their own blood.
Something was subconsciously influencing him...calling to him. Something dark and evil and oh so beguiling. Angelus knew what this thing was. Angelus could feel it, even trapped within the cage Angel had built to contain him. He knew that he only had to immerse himself in Angelus' mind to discover where these...primal urges were originating. But he was afraid...afraid he might not be strong enough to push the demon back down if he allowed him even that much freedom. And so he brooded and worried and wondered.
The next day
Abandoned Factory, Sunnydale CA
Xan stretched his arms over his head and his long legs out the end of the ratty blanket as a huge jaw-cracking yawn erupted from his mouth. Feeling sleep peel back away from his still fuzzy thoughts, he blinked a bit to bring his surroundings into focus.
The room was dark and dank, mildew and rust the predominant scents. The soft sounds of rats scurrying around in the darkness melded eerily with the faint sound of a light breeze whistling through the crack in a window somewhere high up. He was laying on his stomach on their air-mattress and Spike's cold hard body was pressed tightly against him. The vampire's inhumanly strong arms were wrapped tightly around his waist and chest, pulling him in tight.
The whole setup was familiar in that it was like every other abandoned building he and his "foster father" had ever stayed in and yet it was as an unknown to him. The details were not yet etched into his mind and for a brief moment he wondered where they were. Then it came to him. Sunnydale. The Hellmouth.
It was at that point that he woke up the rest of the way. Excitement and curiosity swirled together in his brain and he had the urge to prowl around the town, learning the lay of the land, seeking out the people and the demons. Separating the predators from the prey in his mind. But before any of that, he needed to empty his bladder, get dressed and hunt up some food. Pizza sounded good.
Grinning in anticipation, Xan began to try and wiggle out of Spike's grasp, hoping to loosen the demon's hold on him enough that he could slip free. All his squirming accomplished was Spike pulling him in tighter and wrapping one lean cool muscular leg around both of his and a hissed "mine" tickling the back of his neck. His grin grew wider.
"Come on Spike, let me out of bed."
Spike nuzzled his face deeper into Xan's soft dark curls briefly and then he fell still and silent once again. As much as Xan enjoyed Spike's possessiveness and his unconscious need for cuddles, his bladder was beginning to get angry with him.
"Let me up dammit!"
Spike ignored him.
"Please Daddy? I hav'ta go pee."
This whispered plea spoken in a slightly whiny little-boy voice never failed him before and it worked this time as well. With a mumbled grumpy noise of complaint, Spike let go and rolled over completely, turning his back to Xan. Xan's smile grew wide and he had to bite back a chuckle.
Instead, he leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Spike's pale shoulder and then climbed out of bed. He adjusted the blankets so that the warm spot that he was leaving behind would be wrapped around the bleached blonde vampire. Standing up, he quickly located his clothes which consisted of a pair of black jeans, a faded concert t-shirt and his Doc Martin boots. Grabbing his sunglasses to finish the look, he pilfered his foster father's wallet for cash and pried open the metal door that blocked the way from the small room they had been holed up in.
Slowly making his way down the dark industrial corridor, he had to pick his way among a nest of sleeping fledglings that had sought out shelter from the sun inside the huge factory. It never even occurred to him that he might have been in danger. Instead of trembling in fear because he was the only living human among a building full of undead vampires, he concentrated on finding the way outside so that he could have an afternoon of fun and adventure.
After all, William the Bloody's son hadn't been raised to be a good boy.
Sunnydale Mall, Sunnydale CA
Cordelia was barely paying attention to Harmony as she babbled on and on about the fashion faux pas that had been the highlight of her English class earlier that day. Granted, Cordelia had seen the outfit that Melissa Penderson had been wearing and it deserved every comment that Harmony had made, however, she was focused on something much more interesting.
Across the way, a boy she had never seen before was lounging indolently at one of the tables in the food court, a paper plate littered with two pizza crust's pushed over to one side. Everything about him screamed "dark" and "dangerous", from his dark colored clothing to his dark hair and eyes.
Beyond that, it was the expression on his face that sent a thrill down her spine when she looked at him. His handsome features were twisted into an amused sneer of arrogance and minor contempt. Even though his body was still and calm, his eyes roamed over the open airiness of the food court, studying and watching. Cordelia had a sudden mental image of the boy as a large black cat, crouched down in long grass as it stalked it's unassuming prey. She shivered.
Then those dark eyes swung around and locked with hers. Cordelia felt as if she were falling into twin pits of darkness and heat and she was drowning in sensations that she had never felt before. She felt her cheeks heat up in a blush and she suddenly felt shy for the first time in her life. The boy's smirk grew even wider as he stared at her with his piercing stare and a burst of wetness blossomed between her legs. She blushed harder.
Then her attention was violently torn from the boy as her purse was yanked hard from her shoulder. She stumbled and almost fell, Harmony's hands grabbing her arm the only thing keeping her on her feet.
Cordelia looked up to see the red haired purse-snatcher running away and she dragged in a deep breath in order to scream her outrage when a blur of darkness rushed past her. The boy from the food court. A hard cry of shock and pain rent the air and both boys tumbled to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Someone muttered "ohmigod" and then Harmony was dragging her closer.
A crowd was trying to gather, but Harmony shoved her way through with Cordelia right behind her. They saw the dark boy standing, one booted foot braced against the red haired boy's back, right between his shoulder blades. He had the thief's left arm twisted behind him and pulled up at a painful angle by his two handed strangle hold on the redhead's wrist. The thief was whimpering and moaning.
Scurrying forward, Cordelia scooped up her purse, pulling the dark boy's attention to her. He grinned his dark grin at her, a cruel glint in his amused eyes.
"Well lovely, shall I break his arm for you?"
Cordelia was stunned by the offer. The thief, however, was livid.
"No way man. Don't you dare."
The dark boy yanked on his arm viscously and the thief cried out in pain. The boy just chuckled at the reaction.
"I don't think you are in any position to make demands of me, child. It's up to the lady, she's the one you insulted by stealing her purse. And to be honest, you deserve any punishment she can think up, for sloppiness if nothing more."
"You're crazy man. Sloppiness?"
The dark boy shrugged his shoulders at the thief's confusion.
"Yeah. Sloppy. You got caught. That's a no-no, man. Time to pay the price."
The dark boy turned his head and grinned a chillingly charming grin at Cordelia.
"Well lovely? Shall I break his fingers for you? His arm?... His neck?"
There was a hint of challenge in the boy's eyes, daring her to choose one of his choices and not just simply let the thief go free and unpunished. Which was what she was going to do...until she remembered the sensation of falling into his eyes from across the food court and blushing like a nerdy little wall flower. No way was she going to let anyone show her up. Not in private, and certainly not in public. She was going to call his bluff.
She arched one of her perfectly shaped eyebrows at him and offered up one of her own smirks. Trying to sound indifferent, she couldn't help the hint of challenge that echoed in her own voice.
"His fingers. Break them."
The boy's smile widened then, into a real smile. Suddenly, Cordelia knew that this boy liked these kind of games. She felt that secret thrill of danger return.
"As the lady wishes."
Without blinking, the dark haired boy broke all of the fingers on the thief's trapped arm with one swift twist of his wrists. He never blinked. He never flinched. He never broke eye contact with a quickly paling Cordelia. The rest of the crowd, however, gasped in shock.
Then, tipping an imaginary hat to Cordelia, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.
Library, Sunnydale High School
"Willow? What are you doing here? I thought you had a study date with Oz?"
The red haired girl gave a sad muted shrug as she walked over to the large research table and gracelessly flopped down into a chair. Her large bag of school books thumbed onto the floor beside her.
"I did. I got to his house and his mom told me he was at his Aunt's place. Baby-sitting. Apparently his cousin got hurt in a fight this afternoon and his Aunt had to take him to the hospital. There was no one to watch the baby, so she called her sister. Uh...that's Oz's mom. Anyway, he was the one elected to watch the little one, so..."
Willow trailed off and sighed. Buffy flashed her a sympathetic look.
"So, no study date. Got'cha."
Willow nodded her head dejectedly.
Buffy felt bad for her friend. Willow really liked Oz and Oz liked her too. They made a really cute couple and he made Willow happy. Unfortunately, they both seemed to suffer from this horrible bad luck whenever they tried to get together. Buffy didn't think it was very fair. They had enough crappy things happen to them as it was, they didn't need this kind of extra stress on top of it. She just wanted them all to be happy.
"Look. I know I'm not Oz, but...why don't you come with me to the Bronze for a bit. I'm supposed to meet Angel there before patrol and I'm hoping that he'll be a little less...tense tonight. I mean, last night he was...on edge...or something. Giles doesn't really have anything for us here because he's waiting on a fax or something from England and until we get it, well... Anyway, we'll listen to a few songs, drink a soda or two and then when Angel gets there we'll walk you home. Sound good?"
Willow looked up at her friend and smiled. It wasn't what she had planned, but it was good. And she really appreciated Buffy trying to cheer her up.
"Okay. I'll Bronze with you. Thanks."
Buffy smiled at her, relaxing a bit now that Willow was smiling as well.
"No problem. What are friends for?"
The Bronze, Sunnydale CA
The hunger was rising up inside of him like a red tide under a full moon. The pounding thumping echoes of living heartbeats thundered in his ears and his mouth watered from the thick scent of human blood that permeated the very air. He was so close to falling off the edge of a dark and dangerous cliff. Falling straight into damnation. Directly into the insanity which was Angelus.
His control was slipping and his demon beat upon the bars of it's cage, howling for release. Screaming for that which it had been denied so very long. Rage and fear swept over him in alternating waves and he didn't know how to fight anymore. He wanted to run far away so that he could hide from the pain. But the pain was inside of his own mind and one can never run away from one's own self.
So he was trapped. Captured inside a prison of his own making. Angelus was the warden and any wrong move, just one false step and the killing would begin again.
It was his blood. His blood sang to him from his own veins, seeking and searching for...something. Something elusive. Something forbidden. Something...close.
Then he saw her, mere seconds after she had spotted him. Graceful and deadly, she cut through the crowd of humans like a hot knife through warm butter only to glide right up next to him. Her hair shone like new spun gold and her smile whispered of sunshine and new spring flowers and he felt old and dead and rotten to his core. Unworthy of her...hungry for her.
"Hey, Angel. I was hoping that we could..."
He cut her off. He needed to get away. His control was dissolving. He wasn't safe. She wasn't safe. Not near him.
"I have to go. I have to...to leave. He's coming. Oh God...he's so close now."
Her soft lips pulled into a slight frown.
"Who's coming? Angel...who are you talking about?"
He couldn't answer her. He didn't really know. Thoughts and images, feelings and desires all swirled through him and around him and he needed to leave. Now. Without another word, he melted into the crowd. Away from her. From him. He dashed out into the night, wishing with all his might that he could get away from himself.
The Bronze Parking Lot, Sunnydale CA
They were coming around the corner out of the back alley, his beautiful pet babbling on excitedly about some hot bint and some idiot purse snatcher when he felt it. It was like a hum that started at the base of his skull and worked it's way throughout his entire body. Jerking to a complete halt, he put out one arm to stop his pet from walking on. The boy was well trained and stopped his chattering as well.
In the sudden silence, Spike was able to concentrate and focus on that feeling. Turning on his heel, he looked around...and saw two young girls dash off in the opposite direction. A blonde and a red head.
"There! Pet, look over there at those two chits. One of them is the Slayer!"
The boy turned and looked in the direction he was pointing.
"Hmmmm, nice. Very pretty. So...which one is she?"
Spike concentrated a little harder, holding himself very very still. Then, with a sigh he shook his head.
"I'm not sure. They're too close together and too far away for me to tell. It's definitely one of them...I'm just not sure which."
He looked around to see his pet frowning in thought.
"Spike? I thought you said you'd be able to tell?"
The blonde vampire rolled his eyes and shrugged.
"S'not my fault the bloody chit has a friend. Most Slayer's don't have any. The Watchers don't like 'em to have any chums. Besides, I keep getting this echo from being so close to me Sire. He's here. Somewhere close. We're almost at the end of our hunt, pet."
His pet grinned at that. It was a dark and evil grin, one that did a father's unbeating heart proud.
"So...Gramps is around here somewhere? Cool." Then the boy paused and frowned again. "Do you think it'll work? Will it cure him?"
Spike scowled. He didn't like the idea that all his hard work wouldn't break the curse. After all, the wizard had promised that his talisman would do the trick. And since Spike had already killed him, he couldn't very well go off and punish him if it failed.
"Of course it'll bloody work. I'll get my Sire back, I'll have you, my pet. My family will be...all together."
The boy just smiled. It was a shark's smile, all teeth and no morals behind it.
"Well, let's go inside the club. I wanna see if that babe from earlier is here and I'm sure we can scout out a lovely bit of all right for you."
Spike laughed and nodded.
"Sure pet. Let's go find us a couple of chits."
Trisha Well's Home, Sunnydale CA
Oz grabbed hold of the naked toddler as he tried to dash around the older boy's legs towards the hallway and freedom.
"Hey naked-boy! None of that. It's time for pajamas."
The small boy looked up at his cousin, his big green eyes wide and innocent.
"Noooooo! No wan' p'jammies."
The toddler stuck his bottom lip out in a pout, his eyes going even wider. Oz bit back his own grin at the innate cuteness and fought the urge to give in. He wondered briefly if they offered immunization shots to ward off such weakness in the face of kittens, puppies and small children. Whoever invented one would certainly make a fortune.
Carrying the now wiggling bundle of quickly squirming boy-child over to the chest of drawers, Oz reached for the blue pair of footed Winnie the Pooh pajamas. And got bit. Hard. On the fleshy part of his thumb.
"Ow! Uncool, Ricky. Very uncool."
Shifting his burden slightly so that he could see his hurting thumb, Oz noticed that it was bleeding. Instantly, he turned his head to look at his youngest cousin's face and saw several drops of blood on the boy's lips. Ignoring his throbbing thumb in favor of the toddler, Oz rushed into the bathroom and began to try and clean his blood out of the child's mouth.
"Oh man. Aunt Trisha is gonna flip."
Little Ricky just giggled and enjoyed the fact that he was still naked.
The Bronze, Sunnydale CA
Harmony followed Cordelia into the dimly lit main room of The Bronze and quickly scanned the crowd as they made their way directly to 'their' table. She didn't see the rest of the Cordettes, so it was possible that they hadn't arrived yet or were in the ladies room. More importantly than that, she didn't see Trevor Hamilton here and that was just way too much. He promised that he would be here tonight and she was in no mood to be stood up.
The DJ was playing a dance song with a fast beat and the crowd was jumping. Sparkling blinking lights shimmered around the room and everyone either smiled widely at her in the hopes that she would notice them or they cringed back in the hopes that she wouldn't. She was a princess and a Cordette. She refused to let that idiot Trevor totally bum out her night.
Dropping her purse onto the table, she made a move to sit down next to Cordelia when something caught her eye from across the room. Pausing a moment to squint and shift slightly to see around the fat cow in the painfully ugly dress, Harmony almost squealed in excitement. She caught herself just in time.
"Cordelia! Look over there. Hurry!"
Cordelia looked up from searching around inside her purse and gazed out at the crowd. Harmony leaned down over her shoulder and whispered in her ear as she pointed.
"Over there. By the bar. It's that guy from the mall."
Harmony sensed, more than felt, Cordelia stiffen up beside her. Then the brunette was shifting in her chair slightly to get a better look. A soft gasp tickled her ear and then Cordelia turned to face her with a huge smile on her face and excitement in her eyes. Bells went off in Harmony's head.
"Oh my God. You like him. He's...he's...he's a psycho 'Delia. I'm talking big time mental-case. I mean, you saw what he did to that slease-ball thief."
Harmony frowned slightly in thought.
"Okay. The sleave-ball did deserve it, but still...eww! That guys just broke his hand without flinching. He's...I don't know...dangerous."
Cordelia's grin slid into a smirk.
"Yeah, he is, isn't he?"
They shared a naughty giggle and then turned their heads as one to look over towards the bar. The dark haired teen from the mall looked exactly the same, tight black jeans and a faded concert t-shirt. His black plastic sunglasses were pushed up on his head to hold his unruly curls out of his dark eyes. His handsome face was drawn up in a smile of cruel arrogance and he seemed to attract as many people as he repelled. Most likely, they were afraid of him.
The only person he really seemed to be honestly friendly with was another stranger that was sitting at the bar next to him drinking a beer. The other man was wearing a long black leather coat and he had cheekbones that Harmony would willingly kill for. And that hair...
"Oh. My. God. Double process much?"
Harmony pointed at the two guys.
"The blonde next to your hero. Looks like he dunked his head into a vat of Clorox. But damn, did you see his cheekbones?"
Cordelia gave vent to an amused snort and glanced over at Harmony, her eyes sparkling with a predatory gaze.
"Shall we go over there and order a soda? Bump into them all accidentally?"
Harmony's answer was a smirk. Moving as one, the two girls grabbed their purses and walked over towards the bar. Without even glancing at either guy, they 'innocently' stepped between them and waved for the bartender to bring them both a drink.
She could hear Cordelia strike up a conversation with the boy from the mall next to her and she knew her part to play in this. She was the distraction for the guy's blonde haired friend. That way, he wouldn't butt in at the wrong time and ruin things for Cordelia. Pasting her best smile on her face, Harmony turned around to look at him...and fell into the bluest eyes she had ever seen.
Those eyes were almost hypnotic. They seemed so old, wise, as if they had been witness to far too much, and yet they sparkled with some inner glow as if they hungered to see more. Much more. Those eyes seemed to see right through her, down deep inside to where she hid all of her nasty little secrets and fears. Those eyes wanted to devour her, swallow her whole.
Her voice was a husky whisper, but his was rich. Full of mirth and danger and darkness, gilded by a smoky accent that scent shivers along her skin.
"What was that, luv?"
Blushing, she cleared her throat and spoke louder.
"Your eyes. They're such an incredible shade of blue. Like the morning sky."
A slightly haunted look flickered across his face too fast for Harmony to be certain that it was even there at all.
"I don't do mornings, luv. I wouldn't know. More a night owl, me."
She shivered slightly as his voice rolled over her and she had the irrational urge to ask them to turn off the music so that she could hear him better. All she knew was that she had to keep him talking to her...and only her. Widening her smile, she stuck out her hand.
"Oh. I'm Harmony."
His grin slid into an expression that screamed 'danger' to her, but she wasn't sure why. Then he reached out with his own hand. For a moment, she was sure that he was going to shake, but then he grabbed her hand in his and brought it up to his face. Instead of kissing the back of her hand, which was her next guess, he shocked her by turning her hand palm up. Then he sniffed lightly at her wrist for a brief second before placing an indecent kiss on her suddenly oversensitive palm.
"They call me Spike, don't they?"
Harmony was suddenly hot and horny for him and she could feel a burst of wetness between her thighs. She had wondered what it would feel like to have sex many times but this was the first time that she wondered if she would have the desire to say no.
Then the crowd shifted sharply and the blonde guy was jostled from behind. The beer in his hand sloshed out of the top of his glass and splashed onto her green silk blouse. Indignant anger rising up to crush any other thoughts in her head, she let out a shriek.
"Hey! My shirt!"
Rage flashed across Spike's face and a thrill of fear swept over Harmony and for the first time in her life she felt a flash of panic. But then Cordelia was there, demanding to the bartender that he bring over club soda and a clean cloth and Spike was holding the idiot who'd bumped into him by the teen's shirt balled up in one of his fists. He turned and faced the dark haired boy that Cordelia had been flirting with and practically snarled.
"Come on, pet. This boy needs to be taught a few lessons about proper manners."
The dark haired boy laughed at that and it was a sound filled with darkness and cruelty.
"Can I watch?"
"Bloody Hell, pet. You can help."
Cordelia's crush smirked back at his friend. Then he turned and tipped an imaginary hat at them just as he had done at the mall.
And with that, the two guys dragged the struggling teen who had made Spike spill his beer all over Harmony out the back door.
Alley Behind The Bronze, Sunnydale CA
Rich, thick hot blood splashed against his tongue, coating his throat. Liquid sunshine, burning him from the inside out, filling him with energy and power and life.
He could feel the slowing beat of the dying boy's heart against his lips and his tongue and his fingers. He could smell the boy's fear and taste his pain as pure bright white pleasure swirled through him. Making him hard. Making him want.
The boy's heart beat slower and slower as the blood stopped spurting. And Spike had to draw it out of the body, draining it from the veins until there was no more. Just an empty shell, a quickly cooling corpse. Casually, he broke it's neck. He didn't want to chance having a mindless remnant rise from the remains of his dinner.
Hunger sated, he was still left painfully hard. Grinning, he dropped the corpse to the ground only to see his boy, his pet, the one he would eventually turn to become his only childe. Xan.
The dark haired teen was staring at him with a hunger of his own, one big callused hand rubbing at his own hardened cock through the black denim jeans.
"So beautiful when you kill. I could watch that forever."
"You will, pet. You will..."
This was an old conversation and Xan knew it by heart and was able to echo Spike's next words even as they were spoken.
"...but not until you are twenty-one years old."
Xan smirked up at him, his dark eyes flashing in amusement and Spike's control reached it's limits. He was hard, horny and his pet was hungry for him. Stepping over the corpse, Spike reached out and ran his thumb over his pet's full bottom lip. Lightly, his hand trailed down the strong neck and without question, Xan tilted his head to the side, offering up his own blood. Spike shook his head no and trailed his hand down to Xan's shoulder. Just the tiniest amount of pressure and Xan dropped immediately to his knees before the blonde vampire.
Long thick fingers reached out and unzipped Spike's jeans. Warm hands gently pulled his cock out and the vampire shivered from the well known and always welcomed heat. Then he gasped in unneeded air and a burning hot wet mouth closed around him and he heard his pet unzip his own jeans and reach for his own cock with his hands.
Moaning deep in his throat, Spike began to pump into his boy's mouth. Xan knew what he liked and he knew how much Xan could take. They had lots of practice and it didn't take longer than a double heartbeat to set up a quick rhythm of sucking and thrusting.
Pleasure swirled at the base of Spike's spine and traveled up and down his nervous system like flickers of electricity. The warmth of the blood he had just drank combined with the warmth of his pet made him feel almost alive again. Heady on power and pleasure, it didn't take Spike long before he was coming in violent spurts into Xan's talented mouth.
And at the first taste of his seed, his pet came himself. All over the ground.
Panting for breath he didn't need, Spike pulled his spent cock passed his pet's lips and tucked himself back in his jeans. Turning, he bent down and picked up the corpse and slung it up over one shoulder. Listening to his boy straighten his own clothing out, Spike strode over to the dumpster and dropped the body inside it.
An amused smirk on his face, Spike headed back over to Xan. They were just turning to leave and go out looking for some other place to visit when the two bints from the bar stepped out the back door. Harmony and the brunette bird that his pet had been chatting up.
The two bints turned to look over at his pet. The brunette that had been hanging on his pet smiled up at the boy.
"Since you two are still here, we were wondering if you wouldn't mind walking us home? There's some bad elements here in Sunnydale and it isn't safe at night."
Spike and Xan shared an ironic smile, barely repressing the urge to laugh out loud. Then Spike turned on the charm and offered his arm to Harmony.
"Certainly luv. Wouldn't do to let two beauties like you get hurt, now would it?"
The next day
Library, Sunnydale High School
Pointedly ignoring the sense of desperate urgency that had it's icy claws buried in his heart, Rupert Giles concentrated his efforts on shelving the few research books that the students had borrowed from the library that week. He had already shelved the books that he and Willow had used for their research purposes.
That idle thought lead him to one of his more pleasant and inviting day dreams. One which did not feature his beloved Slayer in any form of danger whatsoever. He hated those, not only for their violence, but their bloody awful frequency. No, this daydream consisted of one day returning to England. With Willow at his side. As he sponsored her into the Watcher Program.
While the fact that she was a female would prevent her from working with a Slayer, she had lots of potential. From esoteric research, to spell work, even to minor field work in areas of the world that weren't cursed with a large demon population and thus not drawing the presence of the Slayer to it.
Yes, he truly believed that Willow would make a fine addition to the Watchers. And if she lived up to the potential that Giles saw in her, she could even someday become a member of the Council itself, which was the administrative and ruling portion of the Watchers.
He realized that he should probably bring it up for discussion with her. Her grades were good enough. She had natural talent and a strong belief in the need to stop the demons from harming humans. She was polite and well mannered, and yet she was not afraid to "get her hands dirty" when the need arose. Willow was the perfect candidate, to be honest. Still, he had never mentioned it to her. He supposed that down deep, he doubted that Willow would be willing to leave Buffy. And that was a quality that he just couldn't bring himself to find fault with. For either girl's sake.
A sound loud shrill ringing sound forcibly yanked him out of his wandering thoughts and back into the here and now. Jumping slightly, Giles stepped out from between two rows of the floor to ceiling bookshelves. The ringing sounded again and he began to make his way to his office so that he could answer the phone. Halfway through the second double ring, the shrill noise cut off and a clicking could be heard. This was followed by a low hum-slide sound. Frowning in confusion, he stepped inside his office...and his frown deepened. He was getting a fax.
Sighing slightly, he set the books still in his hands down on a low side table while he listened to the printhead on his fax machine settle itself into the "start" position. Then, he quickly fixed himself a cup of tea while the document printed itself out and slid into his "catch bin". Tea ready, he quickly cleared off a semi flat space on his desk to review the document. Then, grabbing it off of the machine, he quickly shuffled them into the correct order. First to last, instead of last to first.
Sitting down, he picked up the first page and quickly read through it. It was the promised fax from his colleague in England.
It has been a long while since I've seen you, old boy. I am hoping that this finds you and yours in good health. While I would be more than happy to dwell on more benign subjects, I felt that you would be the best person to help unravel this latest mystery, in large part because of your unique resources. While on the surface it may seem like gibberish, I feel that it may turn out to be of some importance.
The mystery in question is a copy of a document. In actuality, it's a Journal Entry written by William the Bloody, childe of Angelus: Scourge of Europe, himself. I found the book, quiet accidentally, while on assignment in Asia Minor. I've read through the book and am in the process of copying it in it's entirety for you. I will have it brought across the pond by carrier. This one entry, however, seemed much too important to wait. I felt you should see it immediately.
The main problem with it is that it concerns his "sister" Drusilla. Angelus' second childer was hopelessly insane, however there have been many rumors that her insanity stemmed from her ability to predict the future. Too many, in fact, to completely discount the idea as false. This entry concerns one of her "visions".
Therein lies the problem. The "vision" came from the mind of a mad woman and then was interpreted by the psychopath who had been turned to be her "nursemaid". To truly understand this entry, one must be able to comprehend both Drusilla's mad ravings and William the Bloody's rants and poetic ramblings.
It is widely known, though very few speak of it, that you have assess to Angelus. Please see what he thinks of this. I fear it could be a portent of danger to come.
Carefully placing the fax down, Giles reached out by reflex for his cup of tea. He was somewhat startled to notice that his hand was shaking slightly. Forgoing the tea for a moment, Giles took in a deep breath and held it for a count of five. Then, he slowly let it back out again. He breathed in deep, and then released it slowly once more. And then again. Once his hands had stopped shaking, he picked up his tea and took a long sip. Bracing himself, he flipped through the fax papers until he found the photocopy of the Journal Entry. He began to read.
The Twenty-Forth of January, Nineteen Hundred and Twenty-Two;
A Quarter after Five in the A.M.
I hate this. Truly, I do. It's been over two years since that bloody git dared show his face around and about and yet she still cries for him. Yearns for him. Her precious "Daddy". Her beloved "Dark Angel".
I hate him. So should she. He left us. Abandoned us to fate and the world and her. The blonde harpy. Did he not believe that we could love him? Forgive him? Want him? He showed up around a random corner in a fire and smoke filled city on the very edge of the world, and did we chase him away? Force him to scurry into the dank shadows and hide? Run from us in fear and hatred?
NO! Welcomed him back into the fold, open arms and wide smiles. All that rot. It was beautiful. Killed a Slayer that night. For him. And did he stay around to celebrate? No! Did he take his childer to his bed and heap praises and punishment upon us? No!
No, not him. Pouffy git. Slinks off into the dawn, he did. Deserter and betrayer once more. And what does my ripe wicked plum do? Cries for him. Wails for him. And me, a poor substitute for her to cling to and rage upon.
It's no longer that cursed doll that whispers his name into the soft shell of her ear. That I could, and have, learned to deal with. But now the very stars sing of him. Of years and miles and pain and blood. She dances in the moonlight, my dark Goddess does, crying out to the unforgiving Heavens in both sadness and delight.
"Angel in the valley of the damned sun" she cries. "He shall flit in and out of the razor fangs of Hell" she sings. "Oh my beloved Spike, you shall break the chains that bind the beast and the dark eyed Kitten will follow you into death." she whispers.
And I am left to comfort her as she thrashes upon the cold ground, gouging her own eyes from the things she sees, ripping and tearing at her own silken skin to free her pain and make it a living thing with which to fight. Her howls and shrieks pound into my mind and I am left with nothing but hate for him.
"The Kitten shall find the Wizard and the Wizard shall polish a bauble and the bauble shall free his darkness from the light. But 'ware the wolf in people's clothing, my Spike. 'Ware the wolf, for he would like a bone."
Sometimes I wish she would stop saying things like that. Or if she couldn't stop, that at least she would make sense. I mean, who is the kitten, the wizard and the wolf? When I ask, she merely tells me that they are "sleeping in the hall of time " and that "the first and the last shall wake when the Second Hunter has fallen" and that "the magic one shall wake when the Bear and the Eagle fight in the Rain filled Jungle." That's not the kind of scarification that I wanted. Made me head hurt worse, it did.
Told her that and she merely laughed and danced some more. Twisting circles around a moon drenched field of poppies. Was beautiful, she was, my princess. That's when she told me to "guard the Kitten around the fallen Angel. For his time to be reborn shall not come until the madman kills the twin giants and the eagle banishes the dove."
I don't understand her. I don't understand her visions or her continuing desire for him. I hate him. I do. Really. I don't love him at all. Honest.
I just want to know one thing. Why did he leave us?...me?
William the Bloody; aka, Spike
Trembling once again, Giles put down the Journal Entry and stood up from his desk. He desperately needed another cup of tea.
Outdoor Courtyard, Sunnydale High School
Wincing from the sudden sharp pain his slight movement caused, Oz looked down at his hand. He had washed out the bite on his thumb and put a bandaid over it, but it appeared to have gotten infected. His entire hand and most of his arm up to his elbow was bright red and swollen. It felt tight and hot, what's more, it itched. Horribly.
Vaguely, Oz wondered if he should stop in at the School Nurse and beg for some antibiotics. Or maybe benedryl? Something...
A wave of dizziness washed over him then, pulling his thoughts away from treatment and focusing them on trying to just stay upright. He braced his good hand up against the sun-warmed brick wall of the High School and sucked in a deep draught of air. That's when the world turned bizarre on him.
The air he pulled into his lungs was filled with so many things that he'd never noticed before. Scents and textures and knowledge. Sun-warmed stone and grass, flowers that spilled tons of pollen onto each fluttering breeze. Car exhaust, motor oil, the small furred animals hiding in the bushes. And the people. People scents were almost overwhelming.
Deodorants of all types, perfumes and after-shaves. Shampoo and hairspray, make-up and nail-polish. Cotton and leather, fabric softener and harsh bleach. All of it assaulted his nose.
Under all of those "fake" scents, those man-made chemical smells was something else. Something deep and rich and oh so alluring. Clean skin and fresh sweat. Pheromones and hormones. Warm blood and passionate life.
And Oz could smell it all, almost taste in on his tongue as it washed over him in bright pulsing waves. It was hypnotic and frightening. And one scent, a familiar scent began to become stronger and stronger, overriding all of the others until it filled him. Became his world, his everything. It overwhelmed him and he became lost in that wonderful aroma.
Then Willow was shaking his shoulder gently, her voice tickling his ear and his mind. Forcibly shaking off his olfactory hallucination, Oz concentrated on her face, noting the concerned frown. He offered her up a shaky smile and tried to ignore what had just happened to him.
Slowly, with Willow silently shooting him odd worried looks, he followed her over to the sun drenched picnic table where her friend Buffy was waiting.
Library, Sunnydale High School
Buffy frowned in thought as she listened to Willow describe what she had seen when she found Oz right before lunch. Buffy hadn't really noticed anything odd, after all, Oz was always quiet, letting the two girls do most of the talking. She had noticed Oz's arm and commiserated with him about not being able to play the guitar until it healed.
At first, Willow had put Oz's odd mood off as a combination of the pain from his injury and his depression at not being able to play with the band, but now she was thinking it might be something else. Buffy didn't know.
"I think you should talk to Giles, Willow. If it is something Hellmouthy, then he would know what to do about it. I mean, Oz did say that he was bitten by his cousin, it's not like some demon took a chunk out of him."
Willow nodded, her face clearing up for a brief moment before clouding over with worry again.
"I know. Honest. It's just...he's been drifting in and out of it all day. It's like his attention just...wanders and he gets this...look on his face. I don't know how to describe it. Awe? Fear? Amazement? Doubt? It's...so many things all at once and I'm, well, I'm worried. It could be a bad. Right?"
"I don't know. You should talk to Giles. And Oz. If it is Hellmouthy, then you need more details from Oz to give to Giles so that he can come up with a plan."
Willow nodded her head in agreement, but Buffy could tell that she didn't really feel all that better. Biting back a sigh, she wished there was more she could do to ease her friend's concern, but she didn't have all the answers, as much as she wished she did.
Pushing open the library doors, they stepped inside to see Giles seated at one of the research tables with a large assortment of old leather-bound books spread open before him. Buffy hadn't read through them all, but she did recognize them. They were diary's written by various Watchers.
"Giles? Something going on that I should know about?"
The older man looked up at her, his eyebrows drawn tightly together in concentration, a distracted look in his eyes.
She watched as he snapped out of his train of thought and focused purely on her, his eyes becoming sharp and piercing. She shivered slightly. It always gave her a bit of a turn when The Watcher peeked out from behind his mild mannered librarian persona. It was an instant reminder of just how intelligent, knowledgeable and ruthlessly determined this man was. It made her proud.
"Yes, Buffy, as a matter of fact, something is 'going on.' I received that fax from my colleague that I have been waiting for and it contains a Journal Entry from an old Diary, so to speak. One that was written by a vampire."
Buffy exchanged a confused look with Willow, who merely shrugged her shoulders as if to say she didn't get it either. Then Buffy turned back to look at Giles, her head tilted slightly in thought.
"Vampires write diaries? That's a wiggy thought."
Giles hummed slightly and took off his glasses to polish them while he spoke.
"Indeed. It is more pleasant to think of all vampires as less than intelligent and it's even more disturbing when they mimic human behavior. However, there are a few who are chosen specifically for their ability to think and act in a certain manner, and this particular vampire author was one of those."
Buffy wrinkled up her nose, somehow offended by the concept of a smart vampire.
"Who would want to make an intelligent minion? I always thought of minions as...well, as canon fodder."
Giles nodded his head and replaced his glasses.
"And they are. This one, however, was never meant as a minion. He was turned to be a Childe and that's a far cry from a minion."
Buffy didn't understand the difference and it must have shown on her face because Giles began to explain.
"Think of minions as blood-loyal "hired help". Childer, on the other hand, are more in the nature of family members. Childer are chosen for any number of reasons, while minions are made randomly to be, as you say, canon fodder."
That made sense to Buffy in a creepy skin-crawly sort of way. She suppressed a shudder at the thought of a family of intelligent and ruthless vampires roaming around Sunnydale. Minions were horrible enough, but that...that was unthinkable.
"Any road, this is one such vampire's Journal Entry and I want Angel to read it. I'm hoping that he could shed some light on what some of the more...odd statements might mean. After all, the Entry is concerning the ravings of another vampire. One who is considered, even among other demons and vampires, to be insane."
"Oh, that's a creepy wiggy thought. I mean, how nuts do you have to be for a vampire to think you're crazy?"
Buffy nodded in total agreement with Willow. It was creepy. However, she had a different question.
"Um, why do you think Angel could help decypher this? I mean, if the vampire it was written about is crazy, how could Angel help?"
Giles sighed then, a sad look flittering across his face briefly before his features hardened once more into the expression that Buffy thought of as 'The Watcher'.
"It's simple really. Both of them, the writer and the crazy woman, are his Childer. He would be able to make sense of...this Journal Entry better than anyone else. Beyond that, I do fear that it concerns him personally."
For a long moment, Buffy didn't know how to react, what to feel. Intellectually, she was aware that Angel was a vampire and that he had lived a long life before she had even been born, but she usually tried hard not to think of that. She also tried not to dwell on the fact that he had spent much of that time doing horrible despicable acts of evil. It always threw her off balance when she was forced to confront his past and she wasn't sure who she ached more for; Angel or herself.
Finally, she forced her emotional confusion aside to work through later. Right now she had to go and find Angel so that she could bring him back here to help Giles figure out what was up with this fax.
"Okay. Look, Willow? You stay here with Giles. See if there is anything you can do to help him while I go get Angel. He's most likely still at the mansion, so I'll start looking there. Once I find him, we'll both head straight back here to the library. Sound good?"
Waiting a moment for both of them to nod, Buffy then turned on her heel and dashed out of the school and into the early evening.
Drawing Room, Old Mansion on Crawford Street, Sunnydale CA
Fourteen steps to the north. Quick tight turn on his heel and then fourteen steps to the south. Repeat.
His feet have measured the length of the room countless times since an hour before the sun had even set and yet he still hasn't decided if he should venture outside. Into the open where temptation would undoubtedly cross his path in the form of living breathing flesh and blood humans. With their heat and life and noise.
Oh yes, humans were very noisy. Loud. Even when they thought that they were being still and quiet and silent. Humans couldn't hear all the noise they made, but he could. The soft whoosh of air being drawn into expanding lungs, only to be followed by the soft whoosh of air being forced out of those same lungs as they deflated. The hypnotic swish-swish-swish of blood as it moved through vein and artery and capillary as it flowed from the heart throughout all of the body's limbs and then back again. The steady lub-dub lub-dub of their hearts as that wondrous muscle contracted in it's four-part rhythm. Oh yes, very noisy indeed.
It was a siren's song to him. Calling him, whispering to him, singing into his ear constantly. Luring him to come closer, closer. To listen and smell. To feel their warmth and touch their skin. To taste and rend and destroy.
Normally he could ignore the dark whispers. Push them from his waking mind and sentence them to the farthest corner of his thoughts. But now? Now those soft whispers have evolved into screams. Screams which echoed through his mind as revenants from his earlier dreams.
Dreams of her.
If he closed his eyes he could still see those images his subconscious created in such loving detail for him to explore while he slept. Golden hair spread out in soft gentle waves upon his black satin pillow. Warm hazel eyes gazing up at him with adoration and love as he sank his hard solid length into her virgin tight heat.
Beautiful. So very very beautiful.
Especially as her expression shifted from one of bliss to one of horror as his strokes turned from loving to harsh and painful. A flicker of fear in her eyes just before his clawed hand struck down in a fist against her sternum with all of his demonic strength. Shattering the bone and tearing her flesh wide open. Bright red splash of blood and then he felt around inside of her, searching...searching... And then he finds it. His prize. Wrapping his long fingers around her heart, he yanks it out of her chest...and cums.
Golden eyes flashing open in an effort to banish the memories of his dream, Angel found himself standing by the front door with his hand on the knob. A rush of guilt and fear seared along his nervous system and he snatched his hand back and shoved it deep into his jacket pocket.
Turning, he began to pace the length of the room once more. He couldn't go out tonight. Not to her, not to anywhere. No one was safe. He wasn't safe.
Angelus was far too close to the surface. Angel was afraid.
Crawford Street, Sunnydale CA
Lighting up a cigarette, Spike watched his pet with part amusement and part pride. The lanky teenager had been only a tiny bit of a thing when Spike had "adopted" him, but he'd shown lots of potential even way back then. And now, Spike had the pleasure of watching that potential come into maturity.
His pet was a hyper one, full of mischief and energy, both in thought and in deed. Right at the moment, the boy was infatuated with that dark haired bird from the kiddie club they had been at the other night. Cor...something her name was. He babbled about her, fantasized about her and not all of his desires for the chit were pure and light.
Spike knew his pet well, and as such, he knew that the boy was heading into full on "stalker-mode". Idly, Spike wondered if the silly bird would find it flattering or frightening if she knew what he did. He also wondered if she would survive his pet's attentions. Either way, Spike didn't really care as long as his lovely dark eyed boy enjoyed himself.
And he was so very delightful when he was having fun. Tuning out his pet's endless chatter, Spike let his thoughts drift back to earlier in the night, to when he had first woken up. His pet had already been out and about, apparently, for he had brought his "daddy" home a gift. Spike loved pressies.
This particular pressie had been in the form of a cute young teenaged blonde boy. He was bigger than his pet and taller too. His hair had been cut short and his jacket proclaimed him to be a member of the Sunnydale High School football team. The boy apparently thought he had been picking up his pet for a quick shag considering that he was groping and pawing his Xan with both hands even as his pet's dark seductive eyes pulled him further into their bedroom. Then his pet had gestured with one hand over to him and the boy's surprised eyes had followed.
"See, Larry? I told you I had a super cute boyfriend."
The blonde looked worried for a second, but then his pet's honey soft voice cut into his thoughts, deriding his obvious concern before it became an issue.
"Don't worry. It's like I told you. We have a very open relationship...and we like to share."
His pet's eyes had cut over to him, amusement dancing deep within them.
"Don't we Spike?"
"We sure do, pet. And what have you brought me today?"
A cruel grin slid across those full luscious lips for a quick second before the expression melted into that innocent look once more.
"A football player. I thought you might be hungry for some big buff blonde cutie."
"You're too good to me, pet. You know I like 'em big and buff."
His pressie had preened at the implied praise and then went pale, flushed red and went pale again as Spike stood up out of his nest of blankets to reveal his whipcord lean and highly muscled frame in all it's naked glory. Spike was nearly knocked off his feet by the double dose of human male pheromones that instantly flooded the tiny room.
Smirking, Spike sauntered across the room with both boy's eyes riveted on his every movement. He stalked over to his pet and grasped the boy's chin with one hand. Yanking his head around to the perfect angle, he attacked his pet's lips with his own, plundering his mouth and claiming his dominance over the teen. His pet moaned in delight and submitted to his whim happily.
After a long minute, Spike released his pet's mouth and was gratified to hear the boy panting for breath. He slipped his body around Xan until he was pressed firmly up against his pet's back and peering at his pressie over his boy's shoulder. Roaming his piercing blue eyes up and down the other boy's body, Spike enjoyed the blush from his frank appraisal.
"Mmmm, pet. You always bring me the nicest pressies. I'll bet he's a tasty one, eh?"
His pet's answer was to tilt his hips back and rub his firm bottom against Spike's groin while he whimpered deep in his throat. Always a good answer to any of Spike's questions, that, and apparently his pressie enjoyed it too, if the way his heartbeat picked up was any indication. Grinning, Spike tipped his head down and nibbled lightly against his pet's throat.
"Now now, pet. You wait your turn. Pressie first, reward second."
Another whimper followed by a sigh. Spike's grin turned up a notch and then he stalked around his pet towards his pressie. He stepped up to the teen and gazed into a face filled with equal parts lust and fear. Such a wonderful combination. It made the blood taste so sweet, so seductive, so alive.
The boy's eyes were almost black with arousal and the air surrounding him was saturated with pheromones making Spike's cock begin to fill as well. Slowly, as if with an animal just two shades shy of spooking, Spike lifted his hand and ran one fingertip along his pressie's jawbone gently. The boy gasped and shivered at his delicate touch.
Softly, slowly and oh so carefully, Spike traced the boy's face until his pressie was pressing into his touch, silently begging for more. His smirk shifting into a cruel leer, Spike suddenly thrust his hand into the short thickness of his pressie's hair and yanked the boy down to his knees. A startled fear filled yelp echoed about the room and his pet giggled quietly behind him.
Confusion etched itself onto the football player's face until Spike shifted his own into his gameface and then fear overrode any other emotion that the boy might have been feeling. His heartbeat began to hammer loudly and his heavy limbs trembled and oddly enough, the scent of his arousal grew even stronger.
His cruel laughter ringing from the rafters, Spike struck like a snake. One second he was standing there staring at the boy, the next his fangs were imbedded deeply into his flesh.
Thick rich wonderful blood gushed out of the wound and poured down his throat in a fount of energy power and heat. Pleasure sizzled across long dead nerve endings and his senses seemed to focus a hundred times better. His pressie had been a healthy strong athlete and they always tasted so good. So pure and strong, filled with power and grace.
Moaning his delight, Spike slurped at his pressie's neck, drawing the warm blood into him, letting it fill him, enliven him, make him feel alive again. Slowly, little by little, drop by drop, he drained the teen dry. When no more blood could be coerced from his veins, a quick twist of his wrist snapped the boy's neck with a loud resounding crack.
Straightening up and licking his lips, Spike turned around to see his pet naked and laying on his back on their bed. His cock was straining against his big warm hand and it was purple with it's need. And those big dark eyes were fastened on him, taking in his every move.
"So beautiful when you kill. I love watching you, knowing that someday..."
Spike grinned at him.
"...but not till you're 21 years old."
His pet smirked back at him for a second, but then his expression became one of pleading once more.
"Please...Spike, I need you, please."
Chuckling, Spike sauntered back over to the bed he had just left and climbed back in. This time, he was laying on top of his pet, so it was a whole lot more fun. He took care to line up his own hard shaft with that of his boy's and then plastered his own body against his pet's. They both moaned at the pleasure.
For Spike, this was as close to heaven as he was certain he'd ever get. Warm thick blood filling his belly and a warm horny boy under him. This was the way unlife was meant to be.
He paused a moment to enjoy the wanton look on his pet's face as the boy tilted his head back to expose his throat even as he spread wide his legs so that Spike would settle down in between them. Then, not being able to hold back any longer, Spike had thrust his hips down, grinding his erection against his pet's. They both gasped and shivered for a brief moment and then they fell into a steady rhythm.
Pleasure swirled along his spine in pulses that originated in his cock and traveled along his nervous system and then back around the loop and directly into his balls. His pet thrust up against him as well and the friction was delightful. Heated flesh seared against his own and his pet's pheromones surrounded him in a thick heady cloud. Crimson light gathered at the base of his spine as the pressure in his balls built up to unbearable levels and then his control shattered and his fangs dropped down once more.
"Yes, oh please, yes."
His pet tilted his head to the side in a blatant offer and he could no more resist that than he could hold a cross in his bare hand. Leaning his head down, he ran his tongue up the length of that beautiful throat, the taste of salty sun-warmed skin exploding in his brain. A deep rumbling growl of possession vibrated his chest and then his fangs slid through the skin like twin knives and his pet's wonderful blood splashed against his tongue and throat.
With a shudder, Spike came, his dead seed spurting between their bodies. His pet let out a low moan of pleasure, thrust twice more and then he too was coming in hot jetting pulses.
Carefully pulling his fangs back out of his pet's neck, Spike had painstakingly licked the wound until it stopped bleeding. He needed to make certain that it healed properly and was clean. It wouldn't do for his pet to get an infection.
All in all, it had been a delightful way to start the evening off right. A delicious pressie followed by some sinfully messy frottage was a well spent half hour in Spike's book.
He had been about to delve into some more memories of "fun and games with the pet" when an odd humming sensation swept up his spine and settled into the base of his skull. Pulling himself out of his mental woolgathering, Spike looked around to see that he and his pet had found their way onto a dark and lonely street on the very edge of town. In fact, they were headed in the direction of a huge dilapidated old mansion. The only problem was, Spike couldn't quite figure out where the "humming" sensation was originating.
An elbow poked him lightly in the ribs and he glanced over at his pet to see the boy pointing down the street a ways.
"Is that girl one of the Slayer Candidates that we saw leaving the Bronze the other night?"
Spike followed the path with his eyes and saw the blonde haired girl that was just now turning off the street to enter the unkempt grounds around the old mansion he had just noted a moment ago. He squinted his eyes slightly and concentrated a bit. The "humming" sensation grew stronger.
"Yeah, pet. That's her. Pretty little thing for a Slayer, innit?"
His pet tipped his head in thought for a moment.
"Hmmm, yeah, she is pretty. Although, I can't figure out if she'd look prettier on my cock or just twisted up in a dead heap of flesh."
Spike chuckled with pride even as his pet turned earnestly innocent dark eyes up at him, a falsely angelic look plastered on his face.
"Can we try out both ideas, just to see? It could be, I don't know, like an experiment maybe?"
Sinister amusement dancing in his mind, Spike considered it.
"What? To see which you enjoyed more? Making her writhe in pleasure or making her writhe in pain?"
His pet nodded enthusiastically for a moment and then sighed and shrugged in pretend sadness.
"I'd probably just get off on both, huh?"
Spike chuckled, and patted his pet on the shoulder in mock sympathy.
"Yeah, pet. You probably would."
They shared an amused glance and then they both broke out in laughter.
They had almost reached the point where they could head onto the property surrounding the old mansion so that they could follow the Slayer inside when a loud banging sound startled them. Acting on reflex, Spike pulled his pet down behind the remains of the crumbling wall edging the property to keep him out of sight and danger. Just then, to his vast surprise, his Sire rushed out of the front door, across the lawn and out into the street moving too fast for a human to keep up.
A feminine voice filled with worry and shock echoed through the still night air and Spike knew that had been the Slayer. For a brief second, he was conflicted in what he should do, but then his priorities straightened themselves out and he made an instant decision.
"Pet. Follow the Slayer. Don't let her out of your sight and don't let her follow Angel either. I'm going after me Sire."
And then in a flash, he was off and running, following his Sire's trail by scent and sound and the call of blood to blood. It was time.
Outside Sunnydale Highschool
Oz stumbled back a bit when another wave of intense scent hit his much abused nose. He tried to block it by bringing his arm up and covering the lower half of his face with the soft sleeve of his flannel shirt. Unfortunately, all that did was replace the scent of foul decay from the dumpster with the scents of laundry detergent and the lingering traces of the pot he had smoked with Devon earlier. Granted, those were much friendlier and welcome smells, but they were still very strong.
Walking as fast as he could past the dumpster, Oz tried hard not to feel panic. He kept telling himself that these olfactory hallucinations were not dangerous. That they were merely the product of his slight fever and too much partying lately. He just needed to cut down on the amount of drugs and alcohol that he took into his system. Then everything would go back to normal.
That's why he was out and about tonight instead of with the band. He couldn't play because of his hand and he was afraid that if he got stoned with them again that the smells would just keep getting worse and worse. So, he was going to see Willow. A few hours of calm and serene would do wonders for him. He was sure of it.
Maybe he could talk her into going on a moonlit walk?
Oz glanced up at the waxing moon. It was almost full and it looked particularly beautiful to him tonight. He wasn't the kind of guy who would normally notice things like the moon, but perhaps Willow just brought out the romantic in him? In any case, he just felt good to be under it's shinning rays and he knew that Willow would look wonderful by it's light.
Stepping out of the side street onto the main parkway that led directly to the Highschool, Oz spotted Buffy jogging down the street and heading directly for the school. He figured that she was going there to meet Willow. Oz knew that the two girls often studied in the Library and helped the librarian reshelve the books and stuff. He was about to call out to her and offer to walk with her, when something odd and slightly unnerving caught his attention.
She was being stalked.
He couldn't even say how he had noticed the hunter when Buffy didn't, but something about the furtive way the man moved and danced in and out of the shadows spoke to him in a primal way. It stirred something deep down in his blood.
He might not know the man or why he was following Buffy, but Oz knew the "hunter" well. Unbidden images of chasing down prey and discovering all of their secrets within the hidden bits of bone and flesh rose up in his mind. Those thoughts unsettled him and confused him even as they excited him. Shaking his head to banish them away, Oz watched as the man in the shadows darted forward after Buffy once more, only to duck behind a bit of stonework when her head glanced over to the side as she jogged.
A fierce feeling of protectiveness and possessiveness welled up in him. Buffy was his. She was his girlfriend's best-friend and his friend in her own right. Oz wasn't going to just stand by and let some strange man hunt her down and hurt her.
A low rumbling growl cut through the night and a tiny part of Oz's mind recognized it as coming from him, but he didn't pay too much attention to that fact. He had more important things to worry about. Like the fact that Buffy's stalker had just turned to stare at him. An amused chuckle floated softly out of the deep shadows, shadows that Oz could see into clearly to his mild surprise.
"Well, well, well. What do we have here?"
Oz's eyes darted to the side, just long enough to see Buffy's slim form slip through the doors into the Highschool. She was safe. Relief swept through him and his eyes slid back to the hunter only to find that the man was edging towards him. A confrontation was about to begin and for some reason, Oz was looking forward to it. His pacifist beliefs falling away, leaving him with the urge to battle down this interloper on his territory.
As Buffy's stalker stepped closer, Oz could see that he wasn't a man, not yet. He was a teenager, like them. A kid. But a kid with a darkness in him, a ruthlessness that Oz could almost sense and appreciate in an animalistic way. Oz shook his head, it didn't matter if he could understand the need to hunt, this dark haired boy had targeted one of Oz's friends and that was intolerable.
His normally soft and mellow voice was a growly snarl, and it would have startled him to hear it at any other time, but at the moment his focus was on the challenger. The boy wasn't upset by this at all. At ease with the night and the darkness around him, the boy merely glanced up at the moon quickly, nodded his head and then smirked at Oz.
"Oh, is she now, Wolf-boy? I'll keep that in mind...right before I rip her away from you and dance to the sound of her screams."
Oz growled again and crouched down low, his arms swinging free and loose from his body. The boy reacted instantly, coiling up tight and balling his hands into fists. He was a tense spring, ready to unleash it's pent up energy.
"Don't like that thought, Wolf-boy? I think it sounds like a damn good time."
Oz wasn't sure why the dark haired teen kept calling him "wolf-boy" and he wasn't about to take the time to ask. Normally, Oz didn't believe in fighting and violence, but at that very moment the only thing he believed in was the almost overwhelming desire to tear this kid apart.
With a growl of anger that echoed off of the nearby buildings, he threw himself on the teen. The boy was larger then Oz, taller and broader through the shoulders, but Oz was quicker and much more agile. The boy tried to twist away, but he wasn't fast enough and Oz caught him with a glancing blow on the left side. They both went down in a tumble of limbs.
White sharp pain flared up along the side of Oz's ribcage and he knew that he'd be bruised there tomorrow morning. Most likely in the shape of the teen's boot. Ignoring the throb of pain, Oz merely grunted and rolled with the impact to land back up on his feet in a low crouch. He looked up just in time to see the other boot come flying at his head, but Oz ducked down low and it sailed over him, whistling through the air.
Growing deep in his chest, Oz leapt up and towards the teen. They crashed together and fell back onto the ground. Curling his hands into fists, Oz rained down a few blows before the teen managed to plant his feet solidly on the ground and thrust up his hips, sending Oz flying off of him.
Oz's ears heard the distinctive "shnick" of a switchblade knife opening and then white-hot burning agony danced in a razor thin line along his thigh. His vision dimmed with the force of the pain and his entire body shook and jerked away. Oz screamed.
"What? You didn't think I was carrying a silver bladed knife? Do I look stupid to you? Puh-leeease. Give me a little credit!"
Oz peeled his eyes open and looked up through his tears of pain to see the bigger teen grinning down at him in glee, a shinning knife with red blood dripping from it in one hand. Oz's heart clenched in his chest and he knew he was going to die. Some part of him urged him to run, to acknowledge the boy as the stronger and more dominant of the two, but another part of him refused to go down without a fight. Oz was preparing to spring back up and go down fighting when a clatter of noise from down the street grabbed both his and his opponent's attention.
Buffy, Willow and Giles.
The three of them were coming down the steps of the school and were most likely headed this way. Oz wasn't sure whether to shout for help or to yell at them to run away and hide. He glanced up at the teen in time to see him start to slink back into the shadows once more.
"Until next time, Wolf-boy."
And then he was gone, slipping into the neck of a dark alley and into the blackness that Oz's eyes couldn't penetrate at this distance.
Turning back to look at his girlfriend, her best-friend and their mentor turning off of the school property and heading in his direction, Oz considered going to them and explaining was just happened, but for some reason, he didn't. It was almost too personal, this fight with the teen. He wanted to think on it and everything that had happened before he let the other's know.
His mind made up, Oz slinked back into the shadows himself. To watch and wait.
Westfield Cemetery, Sunnydale CA
Running. He had to keep running away. Far away. From her. From himself.
If he stopped running, he knew that he would hurt her. Would play with her, toy with her emotions and then destroy her utterly. Oh, how he wanted to do just that. He craved it like a junkie craves his next fix of heroin. He could feel his blood boil and race at the very thought of drinking her down, pulling her very essence into him.
So he ran. Vampiric speed pushed full out, he whipped between buildings and cars, trees and people. They seemed as if they were merely standing still, yet he knew that to them, he was a rushing blur. A chill gust of wind that would leave them with nightmares that they couldn't explain or understand. Something evil that had crossed their paths, the taint of death and horror drifting along in his wake.
And still he ran. Passed shadows and bright pools of electric light, passed tantalizing hints of scents and sounds. Never stopping to indulge, to explore. Just running. Fleeing. From the monster in his own mind. From the blonde Slayer that he both loved and hated. From her.
He ran until the landscape changed from that of the living to that of the dead. Headstones replaced people and lamp posts. Tombs and mausoleums replaced buildings and cars. Green grass replaced asphalt. And still he ran. Searching for some way to escape his own desires.
"Bloody Hell mate! Would you just stop, you poncy git!"
For a long moment, the words didn't make any sense to him. But the voice...oh that voice caressed his ears and wormed it's way into his brain. Angelus howled in his mental cage harder then ever. Screaming out for his boy, his childe...his William.
All at once, Angel realized that the surge of power and energy that he could feel chasing him was not the pure golden shimmering aura of the Slayer, but the dark cold power of another Master Vampire. It was a sensation that he didn't feel often...and this one felt familiar in a horrifying, chilling and disturbingly wonderful way.
Skidding to a halt, Angel reached out with one hand and grasped hold of a chill gray headstone, pulling it from it's mooring in the ground as he used it to stop his forward momentum. Dirt and grass flew up in random clumps.
Angel looked around, his eyes narrowed in hunger, pain, suspicion and a deep inner unholy joy.
Spike ground to a halt ten feet away, his bleached blonde hair gleaming white under the moonlight, his black leather duster whipping about his legs. Once again, Angel was hit with the sight of his long-lost childe. His beautiful William, with the carved marble cheekbones and eyes the shade of a sunny spring morning. His greatest pride and his deepest regret.
Angelus went mad inside of his mind. The demon's lust and desire for his childe was almost overwhelming. He threw memories and images at Angel in swift succession. The two of them chasing down a bunch of rowdy sailors on the docks of some nameless small coastal town. The two of them escorting Darla and Drusilla to some fancy ball and then feasting on the rich and powerful guests. Hunting through the dark alleys of every city they had ever visited. Nights spent curled around each other's naked bodies in front of a roaring fireplace. Violent blood soaked sex as they penetrated each other over and over with cock and fangs alike.
A slight tremble shook Angel's hands at the force of the emotions behind those images and memories. He clutched desperately at the headstone in a crushingly tight grip to hide that tremor from Spike's keen eyes.
"You're not an easy man to track down, luv. Gave me a good bit of sport, too. Then again, you always were a wanker. You do know that, don't'cha peaches?"
Unsure how to deal with the fact that part of him, the souled part, wanted to stake Spike as a soulless demon and merciless killer and that the other part of him, the one that was also a demon...and Spike's Sire to boot, wanted to strip the blonde down naked and fuck him into submission, Angel decided to go on the offensive.
"Spike! What are you doing here?"
Spike spread his arms wide, a falsely innocent expression pasted onto his beautiful face.
"Peaches! You wound me. I'm just here to have a long overdue talk with me Sire, ain't I? No mischief, me."
Spike's look of shock and hurt innocence melted into a leer.
"Well, not much mischief anyway."
Angel growled. He was irritated at Spike for being here. For threatening, not only the populace of Sunnydale with his very presence, but for threatening Angel's fragile hold on his sanity and his soul.
"There is nothing we have to say to each other."
Spike growled at him. The blonde pointed at him and spoke in a voice that was half snarl.
"That's where you're wrong, mate. We have plenty to say to each other. If you like, we can start with why the bloody hell you left? Me and Dru, we didn't know where you were, if you were even undead and kicking ass somewhere or just a big ole pile of dust. All we had was your cow of a Sire to replace you with, and let me tell you straight up, that wasn't adequate compensation, luv."
Old well-worn guilt rushed up inside of Angel at Spike's words. Guilt for leaving them, guilt for creating them in the first place. Guilt for never staking himself or just letting them know what was going on with him. The pain of losing his childer was almost as strong as the pain of being rejected by his Sire. Of being pushed away without any care or regard.
Angel sighed, he felt suddenly tired and he knew that despite that, he couldn't let his guard down. He had to continue to fight, only now it was on two fronts. Spike on the outside and Angelus on the inside.
"I didn't have any choice. You know that."
Spike stomped his foot and threw a balled up fist into the air and shook it at Angel.
"No! I don't know that! You did have a bloody choice! Do you honestly think that Dru and I cared about your stupid fucking soul? We would have taken you back! You were our bloody SIRE!"
Angel's head snapped up and he stared at Spike in shocked confusion.
"But Darla said that..."
He never got to finish that thought. Spike cut him off with a wave of one hand through the air and his sharp toned voice.
"Bugger that bitch Angelus! She didn't speak for me and Dru. She had no hold over us beyond the fact that she was our only link to you!"
Angel felt as if he'd been slapped. His heart ached for the pain and loss that not only he had suffered, but that he was just now realizing that his childer had suffered as well. Angelus howled and raged inside of him. The demon wanted his childe, wanted to feel him close, to hunt and kill side by side once more. To fuck and fight, to love and destroy. To be a familyagain.
Spike shoved his hands into his duster's pockets.
"NO. There is no 'but' here Angelus. You were our Sire and you just up and left us because of that tarted up whore's actions. It was her fault that you got cursed and it was her fault that you were banished from our unlives."
Spike looked up at him then, an odd look that told Angel more than any words could that his childe was no longer the young fledgling that he had left behind. Spike was a Master Vampire in his own right and was very very dangerous.
"It ends now. Here, catch."
And with those softly whispered words, Spike whipped his hands free of the duster pockets and threw something small at Angel. Acting purely on reflex, Angel reached out and caught the small object in one hand. Instantly, he could feel strong magics wash over him and Angelus thrashed inside his mental cage in unholy glee. In horror, Angel glanced down at the thing and had a quick moment to see that it was a talisman. A little shiny bauble with a strong curse on it.
Pain flared bright hot in his chest and a wave of sickening vertigo washed over him, making the world spin and shiver around him. Clutching the talisman tightly in his fist, Angel dropped to his knees, fighting back the urge to vomit.
Then suddenly, Angelus' mental cage was flung open and the demon was set free in his mind and Angel felt himself roughly shoved inside of the cage in it's place. The mental door was shut and the key twisted in the lock. Shuddering with fear and horror, he realized that Angelus was free to hunt and kill...and he had a front-row seat view of everything that was going to happen, trapped inside Angelus' head. A tear streaming down his face, Angel heard Angelus talk using his own voice.
"FREE AT LAST!!!!!!!"
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