Banner by Vampkiss

Chapter 15

Spike glanced out his carriage and snorted like the prodigal son he was rumored to be. The cloudy sky cast a gloomy pall over the palatial building and a reluctant smile pulled at his lips that his “father” would exile himself to such a dismal setting.

The summons he’d received had been unwanted – when he’d read over the small packet of papers given to him by the half-breed demon he’d been thankful that he wouldn’t have to worry about interacting with his “family” – something he thought he wouldn’t have to deal with. Just one more thing to grumble about.

They’d been estranged, or so the papers had indicated. For all intents and purposes, William had turned his back on his father – his wealth and his title – and gone off and made his own fortune. Spike had to laugh at that…just like him to thumb his nose at tradition. But, when he’d “returned,” society had easily slipped into calling him the Earl of Arundel…probably at the PTB’s manipulations.

It was with a heavy dragging of feet – very like a child called on the carpet for some devilry – that Spike stepped down from the carriage and climbed the sweeping staircase to the main doors. Naturally, the thing swung open before he even had a chance to knock.

“Good afternoon, m’lord,” the butler intoned in a nasally voice as Spike swept across the threshold. He didn’t pause, just barked out, “Where is the old man?”

“I believe the Marquess is in his study, m’lord.”

“Of course he is,” he mumbled then stopped, unsure where exactly his father’s study was located.

“This way, m’lord,” the butler spoke after softly shutting the main door. The old man walked down the hallway, bypassing several doors, before stopping before one near the end of the hall. He knocked briefly, and at a terse, “Come in,” immediately opened the doors and announced Spike.

Spike rolled his eyes and sailed into the room as the butler formally announced him to his father. He glanced at the feeble old man, took note of his narrowed gaze as he settled himself into a seat before the desk at the older man’s gesture. He was somewhat surprised at the condition of the man – his father. His vampiric hearing could detect the slowed heartbeat, the wheezing breath that the other tried to hide, but failed.

He leaned back nonchalantly in his chair and waited for the older man to speak – boredom oozing from his frame as he lounged.

A reluctant smile came to the Marquess’ lips as he regarded his son.

“Drink?” he asked, trying his best to ease the tension but retain some sense of authority of the situation. After nearly ten years of absolutely no contact with his son – the harsh words he’d uttered so long ago, and spoken in haste, that he’d prayed he could call back causing a breach between the two – he didn’t quite know how to begin. But, as he looked at his son, successful in his own right, he couldn’t prevent the fatherly pride that filled his being.

Spike, for his part, just nodded and crossed to the bar and poured himself something, waving off the servant that hovered inside the room. The Marquess saw the gesture and quickly dismissed his servant, leaving the two alone.

“I didn’t think you’d actually come,” the older man spoke once Spike had resumed his seat.

A quirked brow was his only response. Hell, he didn’t know what else to say. For once, he held his tongue and let the other speak.

“’M dying, son,” the Marquess stated without preamble. As if to prove the validity of his words, the man broke into a fit of coughing that eventually ended with blood liberally coating his handkerchief. Spike just watched the man with unblinking eyes.

Changing the morbid topic for the moment, the Marquess asked, “So, who’s this ward…a Lady Elizabeth Summers…that I’ve been hearing about? She actually your ward, or something more?”

Spike nearly joined the old man in a coughing fit as the bourbon he’d just swallowed caused him to nearly choke.

“Bloody hell, old man! Who told…” then a, “What’s it to you anyway?”

In a rare show of spryness, the Marquess just laughed and said, “Come now, William. The ton is nothing but a bunch of gossiping old biddies…But, actually, you have your friend to thank for putting that little tidbit in my ear. All my other sources state that Lady Elizabeth is just that…your ward.”

As if beckoned, there was a brief knock at the door before the butler opened it and announced, “Lord Allen Francis Doyle, Viscount Tellidyne, m’lord.”

“Lord Doyle, come in. William, just got here. Why don’t you join us for a drink.”

Doyle stepped inside and cautiously made his way towards the – he could only assume – silently seething vampire and his “father.” But, it wasn’t his fault. He was just the damn messenger. Fucking Powers and their meddling, leaving him holding the bag! And dealing with a pissed off vampire. Talk about needing your hazard pay.

“Lord Thornton…William,” he greeting, grabbing some liquid courage and sitting next to the vampire.

“Doyle,” Spike murmured softly to the half-breed, leaving no doubt as to his mood. His quirked brow at the other silently indicated their need for a discussion once the two were alone.

The vampire was grateful when the old man dropped the topic currently under discussion and settled into more mundane, less personal, subjects. He couldn’t wait to get the Irishman alone to give him a piece of his mind…to leave him floundering with this situation with his “father” when he’d been given information that the two hadn’t spoken in ten years…he was ready to feed off the older man to save himself the hassle. He’d surprised himself at the restraint he’d exhibited thus far, and attributed it to the fact that things were done a little differently in this time than when he’d been turned as a vampire.

And again he wondered what had happened to cause them to stop circulating with humans and retreat to the shadows of the night. Mentally shrugging, he turned his attention to the other two and grimaced as the Marquess succumbed to another round of coughing and excused himself to retire for a while.

The two younger men stood when he did and watched as he shuffled to the door.

“Stay for dinner, William?” the old man asked, his voice weary with fatigue. Spike glanced up to where he stood by the door, looking at him filled with hope. He glanced at Doyle to gauge his reaction – the other demon just watched him and waited. He turned away and glanced at his “father,” could see his face fall as if sensing a denial, and something in him couldn’t stop the agreement from passing his lips.

The Marquess beamed at him before leaving the two alone, announcing that dinner would be at 8:00pm.

Once the door closed, Spike turned and was ready to tear the hide off of Doyle. Opened his mouth to do just that, but the half-breed beat him to it.

“Don’t look at me…I don’t know what they were thinking! They’d picked the Earl because of his estrangement from his father. Who knew that on his deathbed the old guy would have a change of heart?”

Just listening to that excuse leave the other’s lips caused Spike to snort in disgust. He’d had just about enough of these Powers and their plans. And, why the bloody hell had he thrown the old guy a bone. He was evil for fuck’s sake! What did he care if he hurt the wanker…it’s what he lived for – hurt, mayhem, and destruction – all of which seemed to have gone to hell in a hand basket once he’d been sucked back in time.

“So, tell me, mate. Why does my “da” think I’ve got something going on with my ward?” The softly spoken question in no way detracted from the menace currently oozing from the vampire. Beside him, Doyle gulped and held up his hands in innocent supplication.

“Remember? Me? Messenger here!” Doyle began, backing up as Spike slowly stalked him. He looked skyward in entreaty murmuring, “A little help here guys.”

Spike didn’t even hesitate, just stalked towards the other demon as he continued to back away. His face shifted, clearly indicating how brassed off he was at being stuck in this current situation – catering to an old man who seemed at death’s door.

“Spike…look…it wasn’t me. The Powers…” his voice trailed off as Spike pinned him up against the wall.

“I think the Powers have done enough. You’ve dealt me this hand, and I’ve agreed to play it so I can get back home. But, I’m tired of the aces appearing up your sleeves. You want me to play nice, you need to back off and let me play this out as I see fit. No more manipulating me…or the situation. I’ve done what you asked and claimed the Slayer, now back off. I’m running the show, in case you ‘aven’t noticed. And, if you wanna see your Slayer returned alive and in one piece, you’ll leave me to it.”

It was an empty threat on Spike’s part, but the other didn’t need to know it.

“Alright…alright…I’ll relay your message. Now, can you let me go?”

Spike snarled once more for good measure then finally shoved the other man away from him. He didn’t really want to fight with Doyle, but he had to make his position clear to these Powers that seemed to want to keep fucking with his unlife – he kinda liked the half-breed. Other than the brief stint in the club, he’d yet to really socialize with anyone and he found himself bored. He was used to action, especially the 21st century variety and Doyle represented a piece of that – even if he was batting for the other side. But, beggars can’t be choosers and Spike figured he’d while away the time till dinner with the demon.

Doyle breathed a sigh of relief that Spike had let him off so easily. He was shocked as hell when the vampire invited him to sit for a game of chess. The two spent the afternoon drinking, talking about old times, and playing the strategic board game.

~*~*~*~*~

“I trust you had a pleasant afternoon,” the Marquess asked once the first course had been placed before them.

Spike mumbled a reply which the older man no doubt didn’t hear due to the fair amount of distance separating them as they sat at the respective heads of the table; Doyle was situated at a spot midway down its length between the two. The vampire rolled his eyes – and in a moment of irony – prayed for deliverance. With a scrape of his chair he stood, then – much to the astonishment of the servants scattered about the room – he grabbed his plate and walked past the twelve chairs lining one side and sat down on his father’s right. Doyle also stood and seated himself across from the vampire.

The Marquess was shocked, yet oddly touched by the gesture, completely overlooking his son’s mumbled remarks about not being able to hear one another as spread out as they were.

The meal flowed much more easily at that, well…after Spike snorted at Doyle as the half-breed gaped at him for eating human food. Just because he was a vampire and didn’t need to eat, didn’t mean he wasn’t supposed to eat – he could appreciate a well-cooked meal just as much as the next bloke.

The three men discussed politics and business - as well as a host of other topics - that kept them entertained long after the three had finished their meal and retired to the Marquess’ study. Then, the Marquess brought up his reason for summoning his son to his estate, and Doyle swore he could hear the proverbial pin drop in the room. He nearly laughed at the incredulous expression on the vampire’s face, but one look from said vampire’s face wiped the forming smile right off his mouth.

“You want me to do what?” Spike roared in his incredulity.

“I want you to get married, and secure the line of the Thornton’s,” the Marquess roared back, coming to his feet and bracing his arms on his desk as anger overtook him – completely forgetting about how his machinations had alienated his son so many years before.

“Doyle,” he growled low in his throat as he pinned the man with his glacial stare.

Doyle raised his hands in an act that claimed his innocence as he slowly backed away from the pair. “Maybe I should leave you alone…sounds like this is a family matter.”

“Oh no you don’t! You’re staying right here,” Spike demanded, eyes narrowed on the other demon until he nodded back his compliance. Momentarily satisfied, his gaze swung back to his father and he opened his mouth once again to blast the man for trying to interfere in his life once again.

“Please, William,” the older man finally begged, slumping back into his chair. “I don’t have long, and I’d like to see you settled – at least with a wife – before I die. Please. Grant your father this…”

Doyle waited to see what the vampire would do. He watched as the two men eyed each other not saying anything – one pleading, one furious. And, he knew the vampire was pissed. He stood there, his body taut, as he fought an internal battle with himself. Doyle didn’t think he’d do it – had told the PTB's that they were pushing Spike enough as it was and that it would all backfire in their collective faces. But, they’d been insistent that they could get the vampire to bend to them in this and so had sent their emissary – him – to see if their predictions were right. More like get his ass killed, but they didn’t find any humor in his prediction. So, he’d suited up and quickly found himself a guest in the Marquess’ home as they waited for his long lost son to show himself.

~*~

‘Well, Spike?’

‘Shut up, I’m bloody well thinking here.’

‘You know you’re gonna do it. Besides, you’ve already claimed her. May as well make her your wife.’

‘And what makes you think it’s the Slayer I’ll be having?’

But, even as he thought it, images of her flitted before his eyes – her snuggled in his chair, clutching his pillow to her breast. He could practically smell her scent wash over him as the vision unfolded. Then, images of her asleep in his bed assaulted him, her heat wrapping around him as he slept the morning away. Yeah, he could get used to that.

Fuck.

He was going to do it.

“Alright.”

The Marquess stared, unsure that he’d heard his son right. “You’ll do it?”

“I just said so, but I say who and when…My choice of bride won’t be open for discussion.”

The older man just nodded fervently, not caring if he married a chamber maid so long as he married someone.

“Now, I’ve got to return to London. ‘ve a ward to look after and her parents to find.” He turned to the half-breed. “Doyle, I’ll see you back to the city.” His tone brooked no argument. The Irishman just nodded, flummoxed that the Powers had been right all along.

“I’ll follow in a few days and set up residence in my townhouse. I suspect I’ll see you at the Duke’s ball?”

Spike nodded and left the room, Doyle following on his heels.

After his son was gone, the Marquess bellowed for his butler. “Hodgkins!”

The dower old manservant opened the study door at the other’s summons.

“Ready the essential staff. We’re going to London for the season. I want to be there in two days!”

“Very good, m’lord,” he replied, and backed out of the room.

The Marquess of Chadsworth leaned back in his chair, a self-satisfied smile on his face. Not even the sudden attack of coughing could detract from his good mood. His son was back after ten years, and he was going to get married, too. It was more than he’d ever thought possible.

next

REVIEW ME!!