Taste of Juliet
by Megan
Chapter Thirty-Six
Language was a modal shift he no longer had the skills to comprehend. Smells slammed into the blackness of his mind and encouraged an opening to light. Beats of life gripped him in lust for blood and he crept ever closer to awareness. Growls tore from his throat without knowledge, low and feral as he fought for comprehension. When movement at last became possible, he leapt to his feet and scanned the bodies that surrounded him. The pumping hearts were almost deafening in their multitude and he swung his head back and forth assessing his prey. Primal need took over and his demon face usurped the other in a race of dominance. But as he raised his body of power to jump on the one restrained- her wary fear-filled eyes flicking from one body to another- the metallic clanking of chains made him fumble and fall to his knees. Frantically he pulled and twisted to right his control, strength waning against the force of steel, and his growls increased both in volume and intensity.
His calculating gaze shifted back and forth between the figures and finally rested on one that dared to close in on him. This one was small and fair, but he could smell courage and power enough to cut off his continual growling. He stared at her, mystified by her daring and a little overwhelmed by her smell. He did not sense fear, but some other emotion that he had never experienced aimed at himself before. She was tearful, sad-and suddenly within biting distance. He had been quiet in his study of her, but as she made a sound-her soft mouth opening briefly to curve around that one word he could not understand-he lunged for her. With the aid of the chains he had her underneath him in an instant with his fangs buried deep in her throat.
In the flash of another second, he had retracted his fangs and was licking- nuzzling her neck like a lost, frightened cub to his mother. He sought reassurance and belonging, recognising her blood as home. He felt trapped all of a sudden, knowing with a depth that shocked him that these heartbeats were to be left alone. His home was not alarmed or frightened so he clung to her, holding her against his body hard while still swivelling to check out the others that had begun to move closer to him. His body began to shake in a division of want and need, and he felt his bloodlust battle to take over. Some tiny flash within him crashed with a buzz of pain and he hurt with a vision of blood red staining walls and floors.
Damage.
His damage.
He didn't understand these structures-- walls, doors, floors. The coverings all around him were strange, his own and the female that he held onto with his life. Everything was different and he started to howl his confusion and fear, gripping her to him all the more, then burying his face against her smooth skin as she returned his desperate embrace. Both of them now covered in tears, bodies shaking with terror and fire. While encompassed in her safe embrace he allowed the vision of others to recede and he surrendered all that he was to her, home. She would protect him now.
~@~@~
After Buffy's harried instruction to accumulate near the door, the room had hushed. Surprisingly, the Scoobies were united in their concern for the vampire who had snuck his way into their sanctuary almost without objection. What objection had existed had all been swallowed up by fury at the blond psycho tied securely to one of Giles's dining chairs. The only sound voluble in the cramped space was the animalistic growling of Spike. Confidence dipped dramatically as his eyes swept abruptly over them, judging them as potential food.
Willow squeaked when Spike jumped to his unsteady feet, swaying but still unaware of his restraints. The electrified blue gaze fixated on Professor Walsh, and the Scoobies sighed in both relief and a vindictive pleasure that she might be attacked by her own creation. As Buffy moved closer and Spike changed his focus to her, Xander slumped in disappointment.
Her gentle and comforting call of his name, 'Spike,' had them all hoping and holding their breath.
All eyes watched the interplay nervously, hoping that Buffy's confidence would be rewarded, when they were all shocked to screams as he blurred in movement. They next saw Buffy securely held beneath him with fangs in her throat. Before anyone could move to stake him, though, he had retracted his teeth and lay against her in an intimate search for his place. All eyes were glued to the couple in fascination but also on the brink of embarrassment.
Taken over almost by a magnetic pull, they emerged from their restraint and began to gravitate back toward them. His frantic looks caused them to halt but already there was a sense of calm and commitment to whatever was to be done. The Scooby group joined their blond warriors in tears, almost unbidden but in support for the wrench that had become their existence. As Spike began to meld into Buffy, they all turned back to Maggie Walsh and shared a satisfied smirk at her look of outrage and disappointment.
Giles stomped forward in force, ready to smack her again if need be.
"I guess you underestimated this...creature...that you created. Or maybe primal demons weren't so ferocious as you'd hoped?" He sneered at her, unreasonably chuffed that this potentially devastating experienced seemed within their control. The Scooby superiority seemed well-deserved at that moment, and he took a few moments to gloat, glancing briefly at Xander to find he had company.
"Right. Buffy. What do you need? Should we get him some pigs blood, to remind him what he is used to feeding on?"
Appreciation settled on her face as she turned to her Watcher and smiled happily, if not tiredly.
"That would be perfect, Giles. I think we should keep him out here with us. I don't want him to think we've abandoned him."
As everyone at last felt at ease they found a place or chair to relax and fell upon it in tremendous relief. They sat in quiet contemplation-- the only sound microwave pings announcing perfectly heated blood-- and all jumped in surprise when there was a demanding knock at the door. A sharp glance around confirmed that pretty much everyone that they knew was already squished into the flat, but as Buffy rested her eyes back on her mate her confusion cleared.
"Giles," she said as she took the mug of blood from his hands, a bendy straw pointing right at her. "I think it might be Angel."
Giles looked at her in understanding before hurrying to the door. Opening revealed an extremely pissed off vampire in gameface who brushed aside the Watcher as he practically flew to his Childe in a swirl of black, leathery menace.
He turned to take in the hostage, the Scoobies, and what appeared to be the military in an escalating fury.
"What the fuck have you done to William?"
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Angel followed the trajectory of a number of guilty looks, all falling upon an older woman tethered to a chair. He glared at her with the full force of his familial vengeance. Turning abruptly to Buffy he felt pulled toward the twin pinpricks on her neck, still seeping blood.
"Are you okay?" he asked her, though distracted by the submissive form of his Childe against her shoulder, and his fury reached new heights.
She nodded shakily, her arms wrapped protectively around the body of her lover as her eyes misted over again.
"I don't know what to do." Her voice crumbled from intense emotional overload and she gasped a sob as Spike whimpered against her collarbone. She held him with a fierceness of possession and darted looks of hate towards the prisoner.
"He recognised you as his mate at least," Angel told her, his weak gesture to her neck. "We'll work it out. There has to be something..."
"Oh, there's nothing you can do. I doubt he will ever be the vampire you knew." Maggie Walsh spoke in a confident, arrogant manner that set every male in the Scooby core on edge. The commandos flinched from association, sure that she had flipped.
Despite the stand of solidarity between Xander and Giles in favour of Spike, Angel came out the clear leader within seconds of hearing the Professor speak.
"Do you know much about Vampires? Know of any in particular?" His voice was a cool threat and Willow and Anya stepped closer to Xander and Giles, nervous about the flash of the Angelus side of his personality.
"Oh, I know about William the Bloody. Very intriguing specimen." Her demeanor remained calm as she observed them, still secure in her safety, but as Angel took just one threatening step toward her, her blood suddenly turned icy.
"Did you read about William's family?"
"Of course, the line of Aurelius is renowned. Darla, Angelus, Drusilla and William."
He took another step to her and her small smile became a reluctant frown.
"And which one of those do you think I might be?"
The room gasped as an Irish accent tripped from Angel's tongue, the hard authoritative tone breaking through something in Spike and causing his growling search for familiarity to begin again.
Professor Walsh suddenly got it, her eyes widening in alarm. She darted a quick, pleading glance to her officers, turning back in despair when she finally understood that they were not going to help her.
"I don't think I heard your guess." Angel had taken another step closer and was now positioned within striking distance. One more step and he dropped to his haunches in front of her.
"Angelus?" she all but whispered and flinched at his harsh burst of laughter, then shrieking in terror as his gameface surged to the forefront.
"Aye, you'd be right then. And how do you think Angelus might react to someone trying to hurt his family? Did you research vampire attitudes to family?"
"I...ahh yes, they are, um, fiercely protective of other family members."
Remaining in demon face, Angel subtly changed back to his normal voice as he continued to observe her.
"You'll want to hope," he started out calm, quiet, "that there is a way to bring William back, or you will be dead. Soul or not, no one fucks around with my family."
He stood with a finality that almost stopped time. One beat later he was directing silent questions at Giles, then gently placing his arms around the still-distraught blond couple, easing them away from the crowd and through to Giles's study.
As the tension began to dissipate, there was movement about the room. Giles set to offering beverages, and Xander rejoined a thoroughly unnerved and unnaturally quiet Anya -taking her stiff, rigid body in his arms to reassure her that the major bad was done for now-and started to discuss the merits of pizza as a good upper.
General consent was voluble and so orders were phoned in and trivial points of discussion were engaged in, the commandos abandoning their weapons at the door and partaking of the courtesies of their host. Almost everyone ignored the Professor, but as Anya walked past she tried out her right foot in a swinging motion and smiled in pleasure as her hard shoe came into contact again with the woman's shin.
"That's for Spike, and for thinking you have the right to experiment on demons. There is so much vengeance rolling around in here right now, you'd better be grateful that I lost my pendant." With a look filled with satisfaction Anya flounced away to wrap her arms once again around Xander's waist, the confused stare of the Professor following her.
After a good portion of the pizza had disappeared, with a few slices left over for Buffy for later if she was hungry, they all sat around the table to discuss what they might do with their captive and how they should go about destroying Adam.
Riley and his friends needed to return to base: Giles knew it was time for them to make some fast decisions. With Willow's help, he located a binding spell that would prevent Maggie Walsh from escaping her ropes, and a simple barrier that would protect her while they all slept. Though primarily it held her in, it also kept out any dark-haired vampires that decided that it was time to wreak vengeance.
With the disappearance of Willow, Xander and Anya, and a promise of their speedy return first thing in the morning, he sat down at his table in weary contemplation. It had been such a short time since their world had been turned upside down. They had all received a splendid gift, he knew that. Having Spike on their side could be a turning point for them, and with a groan of relief he hoped that it could also mean an extended existence for Buffy. From a few barbed comments from Buffy, he knew that if Spike had not been awarded his soul early on this time line, then he would have suffered at the hands of the Slayer. From what he had gathered, Spike's journey had been long and fraught with all manner of misunderstandings and misjudged motives. His efforts to change received little encouragement or support, and Giles knew that the responsibility for that probably lay at his own door. He not only had taught Buffy, but also her friends the rules in regard to demons. He had no doubt that his own teachings could never have paved the way for William the Bloody, he was his own law altogether. Unfortunately, the books had never been written and so he suffered at their prejudiced hands. How many years of happiness had Buffy forfeited because of his own beliefs?
How had Spike borne staying with them, continuing his efforts to be good?
He didn't blame himself completely¾ knowing that Buffy's own abuse stemmed from her resurrection, bringing another problem sharply into focus. After the engagement and blindness debacle, he had started to investigate options for Willow, knowing that he could not put off her instruction forever, but wishing he could bow out altogether. He had come as a Watcher to one Slayer- an unruly, disobedient Slayer at that- but here he was directing all her friends as well. He felt like a nursery teacher sometimes. But responsibility demanded that he take care of the witch. She needed to learn control and limits, so that she didn't attempt anything like she felt she had to in the future.
They had so much knowledge of the future: enough to make a difference, a change for the better. A shiver slithered down his spine but he refused to contemplate the possibilities of certain events repeating themselves with the same horrid outcome. With an almost negligent glance he encountered the frosty eyes of the Professor and startled slightly; he had forgotten that she was there. Being confronted with her presence brought back into focus the vampire occupation of his home.
Spike!
What the bloody hell were they going to do for him?
He hoped with all his might that Angel knew enough and was devoted enough to bring back his Childe to the twenty-first century. He grinned at Walsh with malice tainting his lips, reminded of the lack of chip, and Ripper almost hoped that Spike regained enough sense to rip the cow's throat out.
He took out his hidden bottle of scotch and started loading up the first glass of the night. The reality burned down the back of his throat and he felt confident.
They would change the important things. It didn't make sense that they got this opportunity if the same things just continued to happen.
A few more shots and he felt pleasantly buzzed, creeping down the hall to eavesdrop on the small crowd in his study. All he heard was weeping, growling, and curiously, some clicking. He shuddered, fearing it was hopeless, and made his way back to fall on the sofa in exhaustion. And remained there throughout the night.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
A/N…if any part of Seeing Red was too offensive for you to watch, then this chapter may cause you problems. Take heart that this is as worse, and as good as it gets. There is method to my madness, and this chapter is pivotal. However, both my Betas pointed out that it was brutal. So please, continue on only if your heart can take it. In reassurance though, Holly tells me it is her favourite chapter in the whole story. Let me know what YOU decide!?
Angel stood still by the closed door, his fearful gaze unable to look away from the blonde pair clinging to each other in front of him. His body began to hum in dread as Buffy’s eyes turned to him, the question he didn’t want to answer plain as day.
“You can help him, right?”
Her tears had always sliced open a vulnerable part of him, and he felt his strength crumble. He felt like laughing. Out of pure hysteria. He didn’t think Buffy would take it the way he intended though, so he took a few excruciating moments to compose himself. When the rising urge to laugh had fled, it was quickly replaced by the need to howl like an animal at the destruction of its progeny. Observing Spike and his whimpering reluctance to release Buffy for even a moment, had him giving in; the anger and fear combining to create a perfectly animalistic sound of grief. Recognising something of the demonic rule Spike answered with his own series of sad yowls, perhaps not understanding that the song was for himself.
Buffy clung to him, her face slippery and red from the tears that had not abated since she had first set eyes on him tonight. Her fingers combed gently through his hair and she resorted herself to making inhuman noises to convey her serious fear at the condition of her mate. The sensitive pads of her fingers found ribs of scalp, rough with stitching that had not been removed, though vampire healing had closed the skin off over the top. She flinched, knowing that they would have to cut him open again to get rid of the thread. Her eyes had earlier catalogued all the cuts and bruises visible on his face, but now she knew from the various flinches when in contact that his body would be covered as well, and she swallowed hard knowing that her stomach could well get another workout.
Kissing the side of his mouth in she turned again to Angel. She stayed silent,- both her own and his-reassurance aware that her earlier question still hung like a death knoll between them.
“I don’t know.” Angel never spoke loudly, and he often looked overwhelmed with just the average daily interaction between people and life, but now the challenge was a larger one. His voice sounded odd to himself, out of control.
“Maybe the ritual…” his voice tapered off, hoping that Buffy knew what he referred to without him having to explain farther.
She sniffed. “Wouldn’t we need Dru? She is his real Sire, isn’t she?”
Her throat was sore, clogged from her endless tears and she couldn’t even swallow to rid herself of the painful lump. She was afraid that if she flushed herself of the little reminder that she hurt then she might fall into a numbness she even-wouldn’t be able to escape from. This was taking a huge emotional toll and she wasn’t sure if she could-more than the feelings of leaving heaven survive if she couldn’t have Spike back.
She thought more of the ritual that Angel referred to, the one that had first brought Spike into her life when and destroy Angel in the-he was desperate to restore his loony girlfriend process. She had taken it personally at the time, but knowing Spike like she did now, she had no lingering belief that he hadn’t felt regret at the thought of having to destroy a member of his family to return Dru to her former strength. She frowned in sudden understanding.
“I don’t think that would work. It was to restore her strength, right? Didn’t do anything to improve her insanity.” The bitter barb was ignored for the release of fear that it was.
Angel nodded slowly, feeling frantic at his inability to quickly think of a solution.
“Well, what do you know about what that bitch out there did to him?” He had changed in his fury, back to the subtle reminders of Angelus, causing little shivers of shock to race over her skin.
Buffy pulled back a little from Spike, trying to look into his eyes. His confusion confirmed that he didn’t have a clue of who they were or what they said.
“She implied that they had tortured him into forcing his demon back to his primitive state. Riley told us a little earlier, but we really don’t know much. He doesn’t recognise any of us, or even understand what we are saying, and he hasn’t shaken his demon off since he woke up.” She told all of this to Angel while gently stroking the vampiric grooves of Spike’s face, hoping the soothing tones of her voice would encourage him to feel secure with both her and Angel and to let go a little, allowing them to check out what else the Initiative had done to him.
Angel’s pensive gaze shimmered a little and he felt a sudden clarity. His eyes widened in hope as he bent down to kneel near them and tugged on Buffy’s hand to pull them into a similar position. Spike watched him warily, but made no move to pull away and Angel sighed in relief.
“It’s like she’s made his soul retreat to somewhere safe. She’s allowed the demon to take control. I don’t know how she could have taken away memory and knowledge to make him primeval, though.”
Buffy blinked. “But what can we do to fix him?”
Angel shuddered with hopelessness. He didn’t know what to tell her. Nothing like this had ever been done to a vampire before. And again, Spike was unique. If he wasn’t so worried he’d be…no, maybe not jealous, but…
“He tasted your blood?” Angel stared intently at her neck, his mind ticking over fast while trying to think of anything they could do to help the vampire.
“Yeah, he seemed to recognise me enough to stop mauling me. To not kill me.”
Angel nodded, feeling slightly broken at the strained tenor of her voice. “Right, so we need to bring his mind back. Maybe a renewal of the claim?…”
“Wh.-what about your blood? Maybe he would recognise that, too?”
Angel’s chocolate brown eyes glistened with hope and a willingness to try anything. Without word he curled his hand around the neck of his Childe and pulled his fangs to his neck. A commanding growl broke from his throat and vibrated against the demon lips of Spike, encouraging him to taste.
Without warning the elongated teeth sunk into his cold flesh and -family-he pulled greedily on the blood. It tasted old, passionate and familiar with remnant traces of the blood he had taken earlier of the girl shape. Growls of rage and jealousy erupted from his throat as he pushed the brunette abruptly from him. Angry eyes fixed onto Buffy and he was upon her, ripping her clothes in a frenzy of desperation. She was his and he needed to reassert his rights immediately.
He turned his head and growled like an enraged tiger at the hulking shape trying to get closer. To prevent his movement.
Clothing tore from the female body as he held her down, not registering her struggles. His leg pressed over her own, forcing her to hold still on the floor, and he began shedding his own clothing in a violent passion. Angel could barely watch, tears flowing from his shattered face as Spike took his naked woman in front of him, plunging his teeth into her neck again as he plunged his engorged cock into her and succumbing to a pace that was punishing. Branding his property. For his Sire to acknowledge. Angel dipped his head in acceptance.
Buffy was screaming, almost chanting the name, 'Spike…' but he took no notice, the word meaning nothing to him. Her voice had little impact against her blood, which with each lengthy pull enchanted his senses and brought him a little closer to home. He continued to thrust as she quieted, and he felt her arms around his back, holding him to her as she sobbed loudly, but willing in hope. Soon, his body slowed and his long strokes became loving, rather than brutal and he felt almost sorry for the way he had forced her. He kissed her softly, his psyche aching for the viciousness he had subjected her to.
His mind became lost—recognised nothing in a haze of blackness as he cried; he remembered nothing except for his home, and now he had hurt her. He whimpered in apology against her bloody throat, aware enough to withdraw his fangs as soon as the rhythm of her heart had changed. Her legs had drawn up around him and she held him tightly against her, whispering sounds against his ear that sounded sweet, knowing, loving. He sucked a nipple into his mouth, the solo pierce of a fang unintentional and withdrew at her small start of pain. Licking away the damage, he sunk into the bliss of his eventual arrival, and filled her with his seed. With an urgent knowledge just one word came to him, and he uttered it in relief.
“Love,” his voice whispered as he collapsed against her.
All was silent as watery tears and silence filled the room.
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