Midnight in the Garden of Evil

by Spikesdeb & SpikesKat

Chapter 13

~*~*~*~*~

Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortals ever dared to dream before;

 

Edgar Allen Poe
The Raven

~*~*~*~*~  

Angel came back to consciousness, the pain from his bound wrists finally hitting his dulled senses.  He felt the pull in his shoulders, his toes barely brushing the floor as he hung suspended by a chain bolted to the ceiling.  His eyes fluttered open, desperately trying to focus through the blood loss and agony.  He glanced down at his pale body, noting the healing bite marks that peppered his skin with crimson curves.  Buffy bite marks.  On his skin.  Despite himself he found the thought of her sharp fangs piercing his flesh very arousing.   The soul rocked at the thought.   

As his vision cleared he fixed his gaze, unwillingly, on the expanse of milky flesh that lay tangled and writhing on the bed in front of him.  Peroxide blonde curls met honey tresses, fangs grazing flesh to bloody welts, the keening and moaning in harmony testament to the pleasure they were giving one to the other.  Angel was transfixed by the sight, unable to tear his eyes away.  He watched Buffy flip Spike onto his back, her thighs keeping him captive as she nipped at his neck.  Spike turned his head towards his bound grandsire.   

“Hey, kitten…we’ve got an audience…”   

Buffy’s yellow eyes swept across the space between the bed and the shackles.  She laughed, running her tongue around her mouth and licking at her fangs.  

“We’d better give him a show then…”  

Buffy’s body was silhouetted against the wall, the flickering shadows from candles bathing her in half-light as she raised her pelvis in order to sink down on Spike’s hardened shaft, slowly drawing him into her slickness.  She moaned as her groin connected with his, grinding down on him to feel the pressure on her clitoris.  Throwing back her head she reached down to circle his cock with her fingers, feeling him disappear inside her as she slid up and down on his length.  Her fingers wet with their joint secretions she brought them up to his mouth, pressing her hips forwards to rub against him as he sucked and licked at the tips.  She growled, the demon wanting blood and violence.  Her clit ached to be touched so she brought the hand down again to pinch and squeeze the engorged flesh as she rocked her hips.  Slyly, she stole a look at her first love.  His pain was clear to see; his suffering, an aphrodisiac.  

Spike adored this creature, his golden one.  The abandonment of her innocence had been total and unexpected, the zeal with which she embraced life as a vampire intoxicating in its intensity.  And now she was taunting Angel…the creature she’d sworn to love for all eternity was presently hanging his head to escape the painful images played out in front of him.  Angel’s agony was flowing off him in waves, each thrust of Buffy’s hips causing an involuntary flinch from the bound vampire.  Spike grinned, a slow, lazy grin, as he enjoyed the feeling of superiority this gave him.  

Then all thought of one-upmanship was gone as Buffy’s body slumped forwards, her hardened nipples raking against his chest as she pounded him into the bed.  Her nails gouged flesh as she grabbed his wrists above his head, her fangs grazing his shoulders, his neck, as she lost control.  Spike bucked his hips up to meet her thrusts in a fruitless effort to control the pace.  Buffy was in charge, her hunger for him heading straight to his cock and hardening it still further.  He dipped his head to suckle a nipple, biting down to draw her blood into his hungry mouth.  Buffy’s gasp showed her pleasure, the bouncing of her hips increasing to a frenetic pace.  Unable to control herself, she sank her fangs into her Sire’s neck, risking his fury as she took his blood without permission.   

The climax rushed them both, their screams of ecstasy counterpoint to the backdrop of Angel’s sobs.     

Resplendent in afterglow as she lay draped across her Spike, Buffy fixed her gaze on Angel’s slumped and pale body.  His chest was covered with her bite marks, although they were fading fast.  The contrast between the pale flesh and the angry welts was ethereally beautiful to her vampire eyes.  He needed more marks…  

Throwing her leg over Spike’s dozing form, she crawled on hands and knees to stop before Angel’s feet, leaning back to sit on her heels.  She looked up, her calculating eyes noting the defined muscle of his thighs, the breadth of his chest, his shoulders.  Moving further up, she hissed as she caught his eyes.  The look was one of disgust, no longer one of adoration.  His loss.  

“Pet, what you doin’?”  

“I want to play.  Can we play now?”  

Spike raised himself from the bed, his hair ruffled from the pillow and Buffy’s fingers.  She was looking back over her shoulder at him, her face shadowed from the candlelight, her hair spilling down her naked back.  The round swell of her ass begged to be caressed as it rested on her heels.  He reached for a cigarette and his Zippo, lighting up and dragging deeply on it as he smirked.  

“Go to it…I’ll watch….”  

Buffy smiled, her yellow eyes blazing with pleasure as she anticipated the fun to come.  She rose to her feet, sweeping her hand across Angel’s bare chest and drawing a shiver from him.  He spat at her between clenched teeth, “You are not my Buffy…she’s gone….”  

Spike’s snarl dragged his attention to the bed.  

“Too bloody right she’s not your Buffy, you poof!  She’s mine, for always, so bloody well get used to it.”  

Angel’s howl of pain ricocheted off the walls, his body spasming to get away from the pain in his back.  Buffy twisted the knife embedded into his flesh, watching the blood flow down to disappear into the dark fabric of his trousers.  She coated her index finger in the red fluid and sucked it into her mouth.  The taste was different than Spike’s blood, but still familiar.  The blood of Aurelius; her line, her heritage.  

Spike swaggered to stand in front of his bound Grandsire.  Uncorking a bottle, he poured it down the front of his elder’s bare chest and laughed maniacally, even delighting perversely in his own pain as the holy water splashed his skin.  

Buffy backed off, leaving the knife jutting from Angel’s spine.  Angel heard the sound of clinking behind him as she rifled through Drusilla’s trunk.  The dark haired vampiress had left behind her a legacy of pain and torture, it was only fitting that the instruments Drusilla had lovingly collected and used in highly inventive ways should be the means by which her Sire and killer would be introduced to unimaginable agony.  

Buffy deftly wrapped a length of spiked chain around Angel’s neck, pulling hard to yank his head back and expose his throat.  It wouldn’t kill him of course but it would hurt like hell.  The spikes in the links dug into his flesh leaving crimson rivulets running down his chest and back.  The smell of the blood was overwhelming to all three vampires, Buffy involuntarily licking her lips and ducking to taste.  Spike, for his part, was struggling with the temptation to do the same.  The only thing stopping him was the thought of his bloody Grandsire getting a kick from the feel of his tongue on his skin.  No, the wanker wasn’t getting any pleasure from him.   

Angel raised his eyes to look at this Childe of his line.  Despite the pain, the agony, and the blood loss that threatened to rob him of his consciousness – he was proud of Spike, proud of Buffy in a twisted kind of way.  Vampires weren’t meant to be gentle creatures and Spike and Buffy as a combined entity were among the most vicious he’d known.  They were doing their Aurelius heritage proud.  Not that they needed to know that.  He steeled himself against the pain, licking his dry lips with a rasping tongue as he struggled to form words.  

Spike smirked at the emotions playing across his elder’s face.   

“Something wrong, Peaches?  You got somethin’ to say?”  

Angel gathered his remaining strength and spat through gritted teeth, “Just fucking finish it, Spike.  I don’t want to be in a world that has you in it…you arrogant, smug, useless excuse for a demon.  And if Buffy has you to mentor her - well, she’ll be dust come weekend.”  

Buffy’s snarl drew the two males’ attention, her yellow eyes cold and vicious, her brow ridged and fangs sharp and prominent.  She hissed, the anger she was feeling causing her some difficulty as she tried to rein in the demon inside.  Her Sire was in a pissing match with her Great-Grandsire.  The conflicting emotions were not sitting well with her newly demonic self and she was struggling to stay in control.  

Spike’s answering growl just upped the ante so far as Buffy was concerned.  It connected on an entirely fundamental and ancient level with the heat between her legs causing a fresh flush of juices to run down her thighs.  Her reactions now were pure instinct, her Slayer self entirely subdued by the combined weight of her lust, her desire to please her Sire, and her yearning to rip and rend.  

Vampire speed aided her as she wrenched Angel’s neck to one side, intent on draining him of his Aurelius blood so that she could offer it to her maker as a gift.  Standing behind him, her sharp fangs sank with brutal accuracy into his carotid artery, her tongue lapping the blood into her suckling mouth without any waste.  Angel’s skin turned almost blue as she drew great gulps of his blood, his vision clouding as he hurtled towards the oblivion of sleep.  But as Spike moved forwards to bite down roughly on the other side of Angel’s neck whilst simultaneously snaking his hand into Buffy’s hair to draw her close, the older vampire gasped as a light shot out of his eyes and excruciating pain rocketed through his bones, his sinews, his soul…  

Angel closed his eyes against the agony; it was Angelus who next looked through them.  

Spike and Buffy stopped suckling at their ancestor’s neck as the power of the borrowed blood rushed through them.  It was familiar, like the kiss of a lover, the reflection of the id; it made them feel whole, alive.  Spike noted the drips of Angel’s blood rimming Buffy’s lips and he moved to clean her.  She did the same for him, the lap of tongue on flesh quickly turning into a burning and bruising kiss.  Angel was forgotten as the two fell to the floor at his feet.  Buffy threw Spike onto his back taking his engorged cock in her fist before grasping it between her cool and bruised lips and sucking hard.  She nipped up and down his length, his groans calling forth a gush of fluid between her legs.  As she continued to lick at him, biting as she mapped every inch of him with her mouth, she reached down to plunge frenzied fingers inside her grasping pussy, needing some friction to ease the ache building inside her.   

Angel’s head was slumped forwards, his arms splayed out to the sides by the chains that held him captive.   The pain was excruciating both externally and internally.  He drifted in and out of consciousness, his eyes lighting on the entwined forms of Buffy and Spike on the floor in front of him.   

Except now the sight didn’t disgust him…now he wanted to be a part of the play.  His cock threatened to burst the button off his fly as it swelled in response to the smell and sight of the fucking.  That one perfect moment of happiness clause; seemed like his soul had gotten a happy from being the meat in the vampire sandwich – must be the Buffy bite that did it.  Or maybe Spike, maybe them both?  Spike hadn’t bitten him since he got the soul, but it sure used to feel good before.  Whatever.  It didn’t matter.  He was back.  

Buffy was riding Spike, her ass bouncing up and down as she slid up almost entirely off his cock before sinking down to bury his length deep within her.  Her fangs were glinting white as she growled her pleasure, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of her breasts as she sought more sensations, more pain, to heighten her enjoyment.  Spike’s nails raked channels down her back before gripping her hips to control his thrusts.  The slow trail of blood droplets that cascaded down to run over their joined bodies were almost Angel’s undoing as he watched, fascinated, at the violence and ecstasy he saw in front of him.  He’d never seen its like, even at the height of his excesses.  The two creatures were so alike, equals in strength and hunger that it was beautiful to witness.  

Spike and Buffy were oblivious to the change they’d wrought, wrapped up entirely in their own hedonistic pleasures.  The twin roars of orgasmic ecstasy echoed throughout the factory; Angelus smirked.  It was about time he got himself some of that.  Gone was the slumped form, the defeated stance of the beaten and souled vampire hero.  In its place was the proud and vicious swagger of the master vampire who was legendary for his cruelty.  Maybe he wouldn’t let them know he was back just yet…opportunities for undercover mayhem abounded.  

It mattered not.   Buffy and Spike didn’t even look back to him as they rose on shaking legs to clothe themselves and go feed.  Spike threw a comment over his departing shoulder.  

“Hope you enjoyed the show, Peaches.  You’ll be seeing it every day for the rest of your sorry existence.  Pity you can’t get a boner, huh?”   

Laughter floated back to him as Angelus stood up straight and tested the chains.  They would hold; Spike always knew how to bind somebody real good.  He’d need help to escape.  

And when he did, his wayward descendants would crave the oblivion of death.  

~*~*~*~*~  

Angelus smiled as he felt his newest toy enter the room.  He could sense the hesitation, Xander’s untrained vampiric abilities noting the subtle change in his sire’s essence but unsure what was different and why.  Time to teach the pup exactly what it was to be a vampire.  

“Harris.  Come round to the front, let me see you, boy.”  

Hesitantly, the fledgling did just that, his demon to the fore as he struggled to constrain the change between his alter egos.  There was something so intoxicating about the vibes his Sire was throwing off that was messing with his control.  Xander risked a momentary peek from beneath closed lids.  What he saw caused him to growl.   

Angel’s bare torso was purpled with bite marks and lines of scratches.  Dry blood bathed the pale skin and stood out starkly in the candlelight.  Xander was enraged that his Sire had been tortured, but at the same time found the evidence of agony arousing.  Tentatively, he reached out a hand to stroke the muscular chest in front of him.  The answering growl stilled him mid-movement.  

“Childe.  You must release me from these chains.  Free me, and I’ll take you away from here.  You need your Sire.”  

“ But…Spike…Sire…he’ll go nuts…”  

“I’ll deal with Spike.  The chains.  Now!”  Angelus roared.  Xander was cowering in front of him, the pull of his maker’s request warring with his fear of Spike’s retribution if he was found out.  

Eventually the call of blood won out, and he scurried off to retrieve the keys to unlock the manacles.  Moments later, the young vampire was pinned to the floor by an enraged Angelus.  

“Now, boy…do tell me why you chose to aid that posturing bastard?  Let me show you how you atone to ME.”  

Angelus sank his fangs into the tender neck, tearing roughly to maximize the pain.  This was about control – showing Xander that he no longer had any will other than that of his Sire.  Of course, there were compensations.  The erection that Angelus was now grinding into his Childe’s groin was one of them; his answering hard-on was another.  The thing with vampires, pain and pleasure were so closely linked that usually one led to the other.  What started out as punishment rapidly became reward.   

Xander’s keening jolted Angelus back from his musings.  If he drained any more, the whelp would be unconscious and that didn’t suit with his plans.  Looking around him, he selected a whip from Drusilla’s box of tricks.  Red welts leaked blood as Angelus took out his anger on the whimpering form of the late Xander Harris.  For good measure, as Xander flashed him a look begging for mercy, Angelus snarled and kicked him in the head.  The blood spattered across the floor as Xander’s temple was gashed, his eye closing up and purpling.  

Content that his newest addition had been taught a lesson, Angelus relented and left the youngster to coil in on himself to ease the pain. He grabbed one of Spike’s shirts and shrugged it on.  It was tight across the shoulders and chest but it would do until he could find more his style.  

Time to stretch out his newly guilt-free body, maybe take in a victim or two before heading out to remind Spike just exactly who was the head of the Aurelius clan in Sunnydale.  

~*~*~*~*~  

The watchers in the wings panted, the display of violence and raw sexual urges calling to their pleasure centers.  Black, lust-filled eyes turned to gaze hungrily on the older and wiser, currently flashing red ones of Ripper.  By mutual consent the torture implements they’d brought to join in the game were dropped, their hands needed to rip at the clothing that impeded the contact of bare flesh on flesh.   

More than one lesson would be learned this day…  

~*~*~*~*~  

“What’s this…a gift from my ungrateful get?  Xander…you shouldn’t have…”  

Angelus was walking round the bound and gagged Jenny Calendar, her face bruised and bloodied, eyes wide and frightened.  She was tied to a chair, hands behind her back, her hair lank and unwashed.  By the smell, she’d been there for days.   

Crouching down in front of her, Angelus loosened the gag.  Gasping for air, Jenny sobbed out, “Angel!”  

“Sorry, no prize this time…care to roll again?”  

Angelus gloried in the confusion that swept across the exhausted woman’s face.   

“Angel?” Quieter, more unsure.  

“I’m afraid…Jen…that Angel has had to leave us rather unexpectedly.  Still, no sense in wasting this body is there?”  

He leaned in to tower over her, hands on her knees as he placed a soft kiss on her lips.  Gently, he kissed her eyelids, her cheeks, her nose.  Then he spoke, barely a whisper.  

“Jenny Calendar…have you ever been fucked unconscious by a rampant vampire?”  

Her staring, frightened eyes were fixed on his face as his fangs lengthened and his brow ridged.  Her scream as he bit down on her neck echoed throughout the factory.  Xander untied her hands and feet to allow his Sire to have free rein with her.  Angelus ripped his teeth from her neck leaving a ragged gash that bled profusely.  Jenny swooned with the pain, the scant food and drink during her captivity not helping.  She was thrown roughly up against the wall, her head bouncing off the surface with a loud thud.  Angelus thrust his tongue through her tightly clamped lips, her resistance making him hard and hungry.  

As she began to respond despite herself, he smirked against her mouth.  

“Now, now Jenny…not on the first date, surely.”  

Angelus let go of her, letting her weak body to slump to the ground.  He always liked to prolong the moment and he had other things to attend to.   There was more than one form of torture…  

Jenny watched Angelus beckon to Xander and stride from the room. After spending almost four days bound and gagged after Giles had taken her hostage, and the recent bloodletting by Angelus, she was too weary to remain awake, and she viewed the retreating demon’s figures through darkening eyes as she lost consciousness.  

“Come on, my boy, time to pull some rank around here.  Let’s go find us a couple of blondes.”  

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