He could feel his heart pounding. The adrenaline rushed through his entire body, hair standing on edge as his muscles tightened with the 'fight or flee response'.He knew what was waiting once he walked to those solid oak doors and beyond into the rich open room, where do doubt they would be gathered. It was really going to happen tonight. He could finally claim his prize and witness an even greater downfall. Pausing for a moment, he looked back to see his faithful lieutenant also scanning the grounds. Hunter's unblinking eyes, solemn brown reflected none of his own nervousness. At these events, it was customary to only take your second command, both as a sign of respect and to limit any bloodshed which might occur. He almost smiled as Hunter stalked past one of the guards, as though they were merely a decoration on the path, and not part of a small army which could swarm over the estate in an instant.
The estate was removed from the city by at least an hour, settled into the hills of upstate New York. There was a necessity for the removal from the city centre, especially with the nature of their work. Inside his heart he didn't mind the house itself. He had stood on the pristine lawns more than once, slept in the beds with more than a dozen women, even been beaten within an inch of his life along the many corridors. But tonight it seemed like another world, one almost garishly extreme with the dark black outer walls and bloody walls inside. Many had commented over the years about the décor of the building, always safely away from the ears of the host. It scared people, made them feel the threat of its high ceilings and dark rooms. He'd heard one women say it was almost like a crazed savant had run through the main hallway with a paintbrush, smearing dark red everywhere. Where that imagined decorator had not strayed, Drake's touch still managed to palpably remain. The portraits of many of his enemies hung throughout the house as reminders of their once glorious positions. An avid hunter, the nailed heads of prey very accurately reminded people who dared to enter, the possibility that they too could be effectively put on display.
Hunter had merely grunted the first time he ever entered. But then, not much seemed to get to the tall man.
Forcing himself to move quicker, Spike began to silently count the shifting shadows which were undoubtedly guards. The night sky remained cloudy, obscuring the moonlight, which was probably for the best, all things considered. The dark itself could never harm him. It only hid the people who could.
At last, his shoes seemed to reach the oak doors. He kept his face smooth, struggling to keep disdain from his voice as the closest man nodded his head formally.
"Are they ready for me yet?" Spike asked.
The guard, his face swathed in shadow, nodded. "Yes sir, straight down the hall". His hand slowly reached for the door handle. "You remember the policy about weapons?"
Before Spike could react, Hunter stepped forward, shoving his forearm against the other man's throat. "We don’t need fucking weapons you idiot. Don't ever question Mr. Jamieson again."
A gulp in the night air was the guard's only reply.
Spike didn't bother hiding his anger now. "Of course I know. The real question is, how could you ask such a stupid fucking question?" Spike knew what he really wanted to do to the bloody idiot, but time was ticking that much faster, for every moment that he didn't focus on the event at hand. Hunter was obviously just as tense, normally it was difficult to get two words out of the man. Shaking his head once, Spike didn't wait for Hunter to release the guard. Instantly, the man dropped to the floor, only the night hiding terrified eyes.
Spike's eyes glinted with malice as he shoved the door open. "Make sure you aren't to be seen in my presence again. Or Hunter will make sure you never ask anyone anything again."
This time there was no reply only silence. A smirk crossing his face, Spike proceeded through the well lit hall. Various paintings hung from the walls, tilted to the side as though placed haphazardly. Obviously Drake was in one of his moods again. The whole mansion reflected the servant's fear whenever a rage overtook their master.
Spike took a calming breath as deer sightlessly stared at him from either side. Their antlers, normally adorned with small trinkets from women, where instead cobwebbed, almost as though wrapped in silk.
Obviously Drake's moods had been getting worse.
"Spike!" A warm voice called out. "You're here finally". Doyle reached for his hand with a smile that very few dared express in his presence. The Irish man was an important IRA connection for both Drake and also the family as a whole. And he was also the first to vouch for Spike upon his initiation. His slight frame was similar to Spike's, but where lean muscle was hidden beneath tight cobalt shirt, Doyle's body seemed almost frail. Spike was slightly the taller man, but he exuded a confidence that few could master or truly believe in. Where Doyle hid back in the shadows, intent to whisper advice and pull at events, Spike was at the forefront of confrontations, blatant in his anger and brutality. Spike didn't doubt that Doyle was the same yet Doyle's true power lay in his mind and his contacts. The Irish had sent a true thinker out of the brawling chaos that was still even now rife with discontent. He didn't need the physical strength that Spike did, but then again he was an associate, not an intimate member like Spike.
"Everyone's so impressed with you at the moment" Doyle said quietly. "I doubt even Drake thought that you could exterminate Masters so quickly. Supposedly they are dividing up the spoils tonight."
"You fancy yourself a likely recipient of these 'spoils' then?" Spike asked.
Doyle grinned as the entered the main dining hall. "Of course. When have you known me turn down a good go at women or money? Besides, supposedly the whores Masters kept around were unrivalled." Doyle fell silent then, his face still grinning as he walked to his seat on the inner ring.
Normally the room was filled with two long cherry wood tables which would seat the regular guests and occupants of Drakes' household. Tonight the tables had been cleared away, leaving an array of seats which all centered around the middle of the room. He watched as Doyle seated himself to the left, the slight man kicking the moaning body which lay in the very center of the room. Spike didn't need to know that it was Masters himself lying there on the ground, bloody and gagged. Nodding his head at Hunter in the direction of the other lieutenants, Spike scanned the room for Drake. Before anyone else could get near him, Spike knew that he needed to acknowledge the man. That or risk being tied next to Masters on the floor.
He felt rather than saw, the tall man come up behind him. And instantly felt his heart twist again.
"Drake."
"William" Drake intoned softly, his voice sounded so smooth and calm compared to the din inside the hall. "So good of you to finally join us. I would've thought that since you captured Masters, you would be here sooner."
"I had some business that needed to be attended to." The thought of apologizing vanished as Spike turned and took the taller man in. The wanker already has enough people kissing up to him. There was a distinct smugness which both Drake and his younger brother seemed to exhibit unconsciously. And tonight he practically seemed to beam with happiness. At least Spike could tell. Drake angry was eerily similar to Drake happy as far as the face was able to convey. It was only by looking into dark brown eyes that there was even a hint of his true feelings. Again Spike was the smaller man, however their physiques were much more similar. Muscles corded down Drake's back, his suit doing nothing to hide the bulky frame underneath. Perhaps it was best that they were so similar beyond the obvious rivalries it had once presented. Before Dru thought Spike to himself. Bloody hell! I need to concentrate. Shaking his head, Spike forced himself to look away from Drake's steady gaze and down to Masters.
"What have you got planned? Not that I don't mind a good execution but shouldn't we get on with it?"
"You're too impatient Spike". Drake didn’t smile but his eyes held more than a hint of malice. "This is your official act of joining the elite members of the family. You should be savoring it." He paused. "Many thought it would be you on that floor."
"Pillocks" Spike spat, not bothering to hide his disdain for the politics involved. They were always scared of doing the dirty work themselves. "But if its blood and glory that you want then what's a bloke to do?"
"No glory Spike; just pain. Masters needs to feel pain."
"Pain, gotcha pops". Spike wiggled his tongue at the older man with a glee not long felt. If all they expected was for him to beat the poor sod then fine. He could live with it.
Drake seemed to take Spike's answer for what it was, pure insolence and if anything his eyes seemed to glow brighter. Placing his hand once more on the energetic blond, Drake pushed into the middle of the room, a mere three steps from Masters.
A slow whine began to fill the room as Masters stared at the heavy boots in front of his face. He knew them intimately, having felt the force of kicks to his head and stomach ever since they had managed to capture him. Terror forced him to try vainly again to release his hands from the cable ties to no avail.
"EVERYBODY QUIET DOWN!"
Immediately all eyes turned to the center of the room. Spike had already removed his outer coat and was quickly rolling up his sleeves. He knew what he had to do now. He thanked his bloody stars that Drake hadn't called for something infinitely more demeaning. Cobalt eyes stared at Drake as the brooding man, so pale even in the warm glow of light, began to speak.
"We are here for a reason and it is to pay witness. Masters has betrayed the family's trust and in doing so forfeited his own life. Conspiring with the feds, not paying his full dues, all this and more are crimes that are unforgivable. If not for Spike", Drake stated coldly, "there would be meeting". We'd already be locked up to struggling to move operations to a safer country. Spike by discovering this has saved us all. And for that we owe him gratitude. We owe him a duty."
Silence hung thick in the air as Drake gestured at Masters' weeping form.
"I propose that Spike join the elite." Shocked gasps escaped from the surrounding men. This was unprecedented, particularly given the strong rivalry between Angel and Spike. To place Spike above Drake's own brother? The move could unbalance everything. More than one noted the surreptitious absence of the other brother.
Instantly Drake held up a hand and the mutterings quieted.
"This isn't up for debate. It's already been cleared amongst us and shall be considered law by all here tonight and by the family as a whole. We cannot allow dissension, we cannot allow fear and we certainly cannot allow creatures like Masters to make us weak."
Drake reached inside of his suit pocket casually then, his eyes seeming to gleam even brighter as the focus turned from him to the screaming form of Masters. A knife would be a good way to start the evening now that everyone was aware of Spike's place. He tossed the weapon to the blond, silently glad when no hesitation showed. This was Spike's true test.
Throughout the speech Masters had kept quiet, Spike's boot nearly crushing his windpipe. But now that the pressure had been released, he could not stop himself from crying with terror. A small pool of urine seeped out onto the cold marble floor as men craned even closer.
Fucking pillock. Disgust infused Spike as he twirled the knife in his hands. He knew what he was supposed to do. Like gutting a fresh kill in the forest, Masters had to be carved apart. If he didn't do it, there would be no escape, no free pass and a 'better luck next time moment'. He could feel the hard stare across his shoulders as he reached for Masters. Dragging him to eye level, Spike felt his heart stop. This man had mentored him for years, letting him join in at the basic levels of the family when no one else had considered him worthy. He was the closest person besides Drusilla that Spike had to a family.
Spike gripped the knife and plunged it into Masters' chest. A murderous scream instantly broke from the old man's lips as he struggled weakly against his restraints. Masters had been left in the same dirty clothes for a week and now could only submit to the horror of watching icy eyes stare straight past him and the vicious pain again and again. Another stab to his stomach caused the blood to flow far more quickly and he felt himself fall as Spike lost his grip. Cold marble floor embraced him. Immediately the platinum blond straddled him, useless roars spilling from his throat.
From the sidelines Drake watched passively. There was no other way then this for Spike to be trusted. By murdering his surrogate father, the Brit would finally be considered ready, even by his sadistic brother's standards. Drake watched as blood bubbled from Master's throat, knowing that his last breaths were upon him. Still Spike did not stop, seemed unable to even. There was something manic as the blond continued to plunge his weapon down into the mutilated body.
Spike couldn't hear the jeering or advice as he plunged the knife again and again into his mentor's body. Just one slice to his face and then another into the stomach. Just once more and this will be over. It'll be over. He could see ripped skin and inside a dark blood red similar to that of the hall. Spike didn't acknowledge the blood as it splashed against him, staining the light grey shirt until it became crimson. There was only the knife and the body, for all that was left of Masters face had long since been marred beyond recognition. It felt like eternity before arms reached from behind to separate Spike from the carnage. He could still feel his hands trembling from the force of the blows. Blood and what looked like shattered bone covered his skin, soaking into the pores, yet Spike could only relish in the ensuing emptiness.
He had expected fear, a sense of guilt, even a last moment change of heart but not this. This quiet was far more unnerving. In the moment before Doyle engulfed him in a congratulatory hug, Spike swore he felt his heart completely stop.
They had told him the first cut always hurts the most. But beyond that, there was nothing.
Spike didn't know whether to be relieved or scared.
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!