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A/N:  Ok, a few things before reading.  I’m manipulating cannon…a lot!  Yes, Drusilla is Spike’s sire, but he took one look at Angelus in that initial meeting, and well… she became the second thought.  Oh, don’t get me wrong, William still shagged her, but it was really Angelus he wanted.  When Angelus was cursed with a soul and left his family, William stayed with the “girls” more out of familial obligation than anything else.  (Hey!  My story, my manipulation. *grin*)  One more thing… the whole gypsy curse.  Never understood the point of Angel losing his soul in a moment of pure happiness.  (It had to have been a plot arc created by the writers.)  To me, Angelus would be better served to always bear a soul.  So…he does.  ^_^ 

A/A/N:  This is for Vampkiss.  A li’l birthday something (because you’re always claiming that you need more B/S/A fics for your archive).  Hope you enjoy, sweets! 

Chapter 1  

Spike walked into the Bronze – what appeared to be the local teen hangout – with one purpose on his mind: kill the slayer.  Maybe then he could finally be free of his sire.  Too long he’d looked after her, familial obligation keeping him at her side once Darla had gone running back to the master. 

To do that, he needed to study her, take her measure.  See what he was up against.  

The blond-headed vampire inhaled deeply the scent of sweat and arousal that clouded the air in the dank facility.  For all that this was the Hellmouth, their lack of a proper club – and the Bronze, with its sparse furnishings and garage-spawning band, was definitely not a proper club – disgusted the vampire.  If he’d not been assured that this was where she hung out, he would have never set foot in the place. 

He spotted her right away, inexplicably drawn to her light.  The lavender halter-top doing very little to cover her sun-kissed skin.  It made him want to rip the bloody thing off and run his tongue all over her – see if she tasted as hot as she looked.  It threw him for a loop and made him question his seeming devotion to his sire.  Whether he could just outright kill the slayer like he’d been ordered. 

When the dark-haired boy he’d seen flopping about on the dance floor came up and coaxed her and her redheaded friend to dance, he’d seen red.  Spike didn’t question his possessiveness towards the blond slayer.  Knew the moment he’d laid his eyes on her that his plans for the girl had altered.  That he’d be keeping her for himself. 

Spike walked around the perimeter of the dance floor, eyes never leaving the slayer as she swayed to the beat.  Pert breast bobbing in time to the music.  He couldn’t help but be entranced by her moves, and knew that they would be so good together. 

Grabbing the nearest minion, he shoved him towards the exit with the order to feed, needing the distraction to draw the slayer away from her friends.  When the lackey was out of sight, Spike walked up to a guy standing near where the slayer was dancing.  

“Where’s the phone.  I need to call the police.  There’s some big guy out there trying to bite somebody.” 

Right on cue, she took off for the exit leading into the alley, her little friends hot on her trail.  He’d have to see about keeping them occupied – he was going to have his hands full with the slayer. 

Rather than taking the same path as the others, Spike ran out the front door, and with a burst of vampiric speed, raced around towards the alley.  Hidden amongst some crates, he witnessed firsthand the power contained within her compact body.  His dick hardened within his tight jeans as she easily fought off the fledge. 

“Get her out of here,” she shouted to her friends in between punches.  The three took off running, back to the relative safety of the club, unable to hear the slayer’s parting remark for a stake.  He held back a laugh as the girl rolled her eyes, her disgruntled expression bringing a reluctant smile to his face.  He settled in to watch her, see if she had the moves it’d take, the ingenuity to think on her feet.  Or, if she was just another carbon copy of past slayers. 

Unworthy of being his childe. 

Buffy was really starting to get pissed off.  It was just like her friends to disappear the one time she could really use some help.  Not so much with the slaying, but with obtaining the instrument of said slaying.  What she wouldn’t give for a stake right about now! 

‘Oh, screw it.’ 

She waited for the vampire to charge, timing her punch just right.  Her fist ripped through his chest, her fingers closing around his unbeating heart and yanking it from his abdominal cavity. 

“Oh, that’s just gross,” she muttered before the thing disintegrated in her hand, along with the rest of his body.  Her nose scrunched up as she wiped the dust from her top, grumbling under her breath about her mom bitching about the dirtiness of her clothing. 

The clapping took her by surprise, and she whirled around.  The figure pushed himself away from the wall where he’d been leaning, his stride full of cockiness and swagger as he neared.  He had to be the most gorgeous creature she’d ever seen.  Even better looking than Angel.  Those cheekbones…gah!  The slicked-back platinum blond hair that just begged for her fingers to muss it up.  Hottie alert at twelve o’clock! 

“Who are you?” she asked when she finally managed to gain her voice. 

“You’ll find out on Saturday.” 

“What happens on Saturday?” 

“I kill you,” he responded deadpan. 

Her mind finally registered the tinglies, indicating that a vampire stood before her.  She’d been so caught up in ogling his body, she’d not paid the least bit of attention to her built-in early warning system – courtesy of the whole slayer package.  

Well, damn! 

And, she wasn’t sure if she was cussing because he was a vampire, or because she’d have to wait until Saturday to see him again.  Like the good girl she was supposed to be, she told herself it was the former.  Because he’s been thrust from her hottie column and stuffed into evil-undead-and-can’t-have-so-don’t-even-think-about-it-no-matter-how-goodlooking-he-is column. 

Life was sooo unfair sometimes. 

She masked her disappointment as he moved away, turning her back on him to slip back inside the club. 

A huge mistake. 

One that easily lead to her capture. 

The breath was momentarily knocked out of her as she was slammed up against the brick wall, the blond vampire easily pinning her in place with his body.  He gripped her wrists and pulled them together and above her head.  Using one hand to hold them in place, the other fisted in her hair to yank her head to the side. 

“W-what about Saturday,” Buffy managed to gasp out, disbelieving that she’d been caught so unaware, and was now about to pay for her inattentiveness with her life. 

“I lied,” he whispered in her ear, his tongue tracing the outer shell. 

Buffy couldn’t help the moan that escaped her lips at his touch.  How she unwittingly arched against him. 

“Oh…you’ll do, pet,” he told her, and she had but a moment to wonder what he was referring to before his fangs tore into her neck. 

The slayer tried to pull away, but the huge gulps of her blood he took quickly drained her strength.  She slumped against the wall, held in place by his grip upon her wrists and the way his body molded into her backside.  Buffy drifted along in a haze, her body getting weaker and weaker by the moment. Images of her mother – her face at finding out about her daughter’s calling and the cause of her untimely death; her friends – whom she’d known such a short time but had come to care for so deeply; her watcher – the kindly British man that was so fun to tease…they flashed before her mind as she began to lose consciousness. She started as he removed his fangs from her neck, feeling oddly bereft at the sudden loss of contact. 

A bloodied wrist was thrust in front of her face, and she stared helplessly at the red that marred his flesh. 

“Drink me, slayer,” he murmured, his lips hovering near her ear. “Taste me.  Let me be what you long for.”  Images blurred until they were replaced by one.  His. 

The husky timbre of his voice struck a cord within her.  Made her tongue dart out to taste the drops of crimson pooling on his wrist.  She didn’t balk at the taste, instead the power of his blood seemed to call to her.  Ensured that she’d wrap her lips around the jagged cut he’d apparently made with his fang and drink deeply. 

“That’s it, pet.  Drink.  Know that you’ll be mine.” 

Then he was back at her throat, drinking deeply, long after her mouth fell slack upon his wrist.  With the last beat of her heart, Spike swung her up in his arms, cradling her body close.  He was about to make his escape, when he felt the pull of family near the entrance to the alley. 

Angelus. 

His amber gaze zeroed in on his grandsire.  Took note of his elder’s despair.  Darla had explained his absence away – delighting in ridiculing her childe’s curse of a soul.  It had angered a fledgling William.  Anger towards the bitch his great-grandsire had been, and anger at thinking that a mere soul should keep Angelus from his family.  From him.  His sire’s departure had been a tough blow for Spike to handle, suddenly having Drusilla thrust on him on a regular basis.  Both of the Aurelius vampiresses, actually. 

He hated to admit it, but he missed his grandsire.  Angelus had been the one to mold him.  To introduce him to the pleasures of the flesh – Dru being too sickly to see properly to his education.  Spike remembered fondly the years he’d spent hunting at Angelus’ side, until he’d disappeared to Romania, and eventually been cursed by gypsies.  He’d come back, though, and Spike had been thrilled to have his family together once again.  But, it hadn’t lasted long.  And it seemed like it had only been days before Angelus had disappeared once more.  For good this time. 

Only now he was back. 

Hidden in the shadows of the alley, Spike waited to see what the elder vampire would do.  There was no way he was giving up his new childe without a fight…to the death, if need be.  He just hoped it wouldn’t come to that.  That Angelus would finally come home.  Return to his family where he belonged. 

~*~ 

Angel moved a little deeper into the alley.  He knew Spike was there.  Felt the pull of his wayward grandchilde.  The scent of death was overwhelming, the faint trace of blood a seductive lure that called to him.  Only it was different this time.  Not the bland smell of just any old human, though.  Not for Spike. 

It nearly crippled him, her destruction.  She’d been his beacon.  Her shining light had kept him from wallowing in the dank gutters where he’d spent the last eighty-odd years.  Now she was gone.  

Killed by his childe. 

His soul cried out at her death.  Her life snuffed way before her time because she’d been the chosen one.  Her duty: to slay the creatures that went bump in the night.  Only, she’d met her match in Spike.  

The one vampire that refused to hide from the Slayer.  Instead seeking them out…pitting his skills against theirs. 

Angel envied him, even while he hated him.  

But loved him still. 

“You killed her,” he accused, unmindful of the emotions he was showing his childe.  His defeat at not being able to save her in time. 

“’S what I do,” came the cockney voice from the cover of darkness.  He made no apologies to his sire.  Felt no regret. 

“You killed her.”  His voice, louder this time.  Despair consuming him as his one shot at redemption withered away. 

Spike stepped into the light, his grip on the slayer tightening possessively as Angel noticed her lax form nestled against his chest. 

“I gave her life!” he shouted back. 

“Life?!  You call this life?” Angel gesticulated wildly, pointing to Spike’s face that still sported his demon.  To his own that had shifted to better see in the darkness.  “This isn’t life.” 

“Give it up, Angelus,” his tone telling the elder that there was no way he was going to listen to any souled-up tirades the dark-haired vamp might be inclined to impart. 

“I can’t,” he whispered brokenly, collapsing against the wall as the weight of the slayer’s death suddenly hit him.  At what she’d soon be.  A demon, like him.  Only not.  Like Spike.  Spike’s childe.  Another addition to the Aurelius clan. 

“I know about the soul,” Spike told him as he drew near, towering over his grandsire as he sat upon the ground, his head leaning wearily against the wall.  “Darla, the bloody bitch, took great delight in ridiculing your plight.” 

“I tried to come back…make it work.  I jus’…I just couldn’t,” he whispered.  His hands fisted in his hair as he fought against the weight of his soul, unable to meet what he was sure were accusing blue eyes.  After all, he’d effectively abandoned William to them. 

Looking down at his sire, Spike struggled with feelings he’d thought long buried.  The anger and betrayal.  Love and hate.

“We coulda’ gone away.” 

The softly spoken words forced Angel to look up.  To see the hurt his leaving had done to his boy. 

“We coulda’ gone away…you and I.  I woulda’ looked after you.  You didn’t have to leave.”  Me. The last word implied, but not spoken. 

“I just thought it was better this way.  You didn’t need me anymore.  Hell…you’d just bagged your first slayer.” 

Spike just looked at the elder vampire, saying nothing.  He started to move away, eager to be off to find a place to hole up and wait for his childe’s rebirth.  At the edge of the darkened alley, he paused. 

“It’s time to come home, Angelus.  Back where you belong,” he called out over his shoulder. 

“I can’t,” Angel whispered.  Only Angel knew how much he wanted to say yes.  To be a part of his boy’s life once more. 

“You know how to find me if you change your mind. I’ll not be at the factory for a bit.  Don’ wanna have to hear the ‘Annoyin’ One’ yammerin about me turnin’ the slayer here.” 

Then he was gone, disappearing into the night.  The elusive scent of childe drifting over Angel’s senses, urging him to follow.  To go home. 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Spike took the slayer to a rundown motel on the far side of town, as far away as he could get from the warehouse where he’d shacked up with his sire.  It wasn’t his first choice, what with all the little happy meals in such close proximity, but he really didn’t have a lot of time to scout around for a more suitable location.  And besides, it brought a whole new meaning to the term “delivery service,” and the demon that ran the joint would be inclined to look the other way if a guest or two went missing. 

With a little finagling, he managed to get the door open, kicking it closed behind him with a booted heel.  His blue eyes took in the queen-sized bed, the sparse furnishings that dotted the room, and couldn’t help the self-depreciating smile that graced his full lips.  However, it was a damn sight better than where he himself had been sired, his mind quickly recalling the deserted alleyway that had been the spot of his rebirth. 

His body left for dead by his would-be sire, only to be found and later buried.  It had been a right bitch clawing his way out of the grave, his mind ignoring his body’s lack of need to breathe.  His knuckles had been worn raw, and Spike remembered the first moment he’d cleared the ground, his body heaving with exertion.  She’d been waiting for him, clapping giddily as she twirled about in a circle, muttering about pixies and tea parties and such. 

But, she’d given him eternal life.  And for that, he’d been grateful.  Determined to stick it out with a nutcase.  Drusilla – he’d later learned her name – had shown him how to feed.  A nearly botched attempt as she muttered and rambled on, to where he’d finally taken matters into his own hands and gone on instinct to get the job done.  He was just about to throw up his hands in disgust, say to hell with her and that he’d find his own way, when she’d twirled around him, muttering about her “daddy.” 

“Oh, William, it will be wonderful.  Our own special family.  You’ll see.” 

He’d rolled his eyes, but had followed her, nevertheless. Was glad that he had when he finally caught sight of the dark-haired male vampire lurking in the doorway.  Their eyes had locked and a bolt of, what William would soon learn was, lust drew his body taut with awareness. 

Angelus had confused him then.  A disdainful mask covering the blaze of desire that had flared briefly in his eyes. 

“You're not cross with me, are you?” Drusilla whimpered.  

“Cross?” Angelus asked a bit confused.  A gleam came into his eyes, then, and his hand had snaked out in the blink of an eye and gripped William’s arm, holding it in the path of the sun’s rays. “Do you have any idea what it's like having nothing but women as travel companions, night in and night out?” 

William tore his hand from the other’s grasp. “Touch me again—”  

“Don't mistake me. I do love the ladies. It's just lately... I've been wondering...” Angelus spoke nonchalantly, holding his own arm in front of the beam. “…what it'd be like... to share the slaughter of innocents... with another man. Don't think that makes me some kind of a deviant, hmm? Do you?” 

William heard the challenge in his voice, saw it in his eyes and had matched the other vampire’s action, the smell of their sizzling flesh goading them to a heinous laughter.  His sire was forgotten as William formed a bond with the male vampire in that moment. 

“Au ah! I like this one! You and me, we're gonna be the best of friends.” 

Drusilla had interrupted their joint laughter, going into a crazed fit as she finally realized that her “grandmum” had departed.  She’d raced to her room, muttering under her breath about spoiled tea parties and how the pixies had turned on her.  William had watched the batty girl hurry away, and something told him to go after her, but the steel grip on his wrist stopped him in his tracks. 

“Let ‘er go.  She gets like that some time.” 

His gaze was drawn away from her retreating back to collide with the dark brown eyes of the male vampire.  That steamy look was back and William swallowed reflexively – the newness of his recently changed status going a long way towards inhibiting the natural tendencies of his demon. 

But Angelus had drawn him out.  Had introduced him to the pleasures of the flesh that even now left Spike yearning for his touch.  His cock and fangs buried so deep he didn’t know where one ended and the other began.  The way the elder vamp would drape his larger frame around his after their shagfest. 

Spike missed that most of all. 

The calm after the storm. 

When they just held each other close, dual purrs of satisfaction rumbling from their chest. 

Angelus had shown him what it meant to be a vampire, Drusilla, too often in one of her spells to instruct him properly.  Darla, ever at the whim of the master. 

Neither male vamp seemed to mind.  Actually looked forward to their time alone together, their growing affection hidden from the two women when they deigned to make their presence felt over their respective childer. 

When Angelus had left, it had torn at Spike’s heart.  The deep void left by his absence making him cling to his sire when he would have left her – his need for family overcoming his desire to flee the crazed vampiress that had made him. 

Now that the two had once more crossed paths, the blond-headed vamp could only hope that he’d come. 

And that he’d stay… 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Gazing down at her nude body resting so peacefully on the bed, Spike knew he’d chosen well.  His eyes roamed over her small pert breasts, the flat abdomen and tiny waist that flared slightly at her hips.  The lean limbs that had hidden the power so easily. 

He couldn’t wait for her to awaken.  His cock chaffed against the steel of his crotch, his zipper refusing to accommodate the sudden swelling of his shaft at the sight of his childe.  

With impatient strokes, he shrugged out of his leather duster.  The red button down and black t-shirt soon followed.  He plopped his ass in the lone chair of the room, his fingers impatiently working the lacings free of his boots. 

Spike stood up, one hand going to the button on the front of his pants when he felt his presence.  Angelus.  He’d come.  The blond-haired vamp stood rooted to the spot, his eyes gazing longingly towards the door, praying that he’d knock, knowing just as surely that Angelus knew that he, also, was aware of the other’s presence. 

Angelus had been the one to leave; it would have to be Angelus that would have to take that final step.  To want to come back.  To be with him. 

Spike was prepared to wait all night if necessary. 

When it finally came – the tentative grazing of knuckles against wood – he almost didn’t hear it.  So fixated on wanting him to do it, that when it finally happened, he seemed to second-guess the sound.  The second rap was slightly louder, and Spike was across the room and had the door flung open before Angelus could pull his hand back to his side. 

The two stared at one another.  Neither moving. 

Scared that the other would turn away in rejection. 

The emotion was there, however.  Burning brightly as they devoured each other with hungry gazes.  The tension mounted until; finally, Spike could take in no longer.  Uttering the words that had the dark-haired vamp flying across the threshold and pinning the smaller vamp against the wall, their mouths fused together in a searing kiss that expressed everything the other felt. 

Hurt. Betrayal. Want.  Need. Love. Family. 

Through it all, they were each other’s family. 

And they could overlook all the pain because of it.  Because they’d managed to find their way back to each other. 

“Welcome home, Sire.” 

~*~*~*~*~ 

Faces changed with neither of them realizing.  Their fangs nicking tongues.  Dual groans erupted as they tasted each other’s blood – Angelus’ louder as he caught the taste of slayer blood, even if it had been Buffy’s.  Yet they wanted – nay, needed – more.  They tore apart, Spike’s chest heaving needlessly with emotion, the humanistic gesture retained throughout the years. 

Their movements were synchronized, as if the dual sharing of blood – of which they’d partaken often in the past – had happened just yesterday, instead of almost a century ago.  As if they could obliterate the other’s scar, their fangs delved deep.  Possessive growls filled the room as the two male vampires drank deeply of the blood freely offered.  Bodies strained together, trying to get closer. 

Spike was in a state of euphoria. 

Angelus was back.  And he was tasting him.  His sire – his true sire.  Soon…very soon, they’d be tearing at clothing… 

Angel ripped his fangs from Spike’s throat – the other vampire quickly doing the same – so that he could tug frantically at the clothes covering his body.  He couldn’t prevent his hands from shaking.  From need, from nervousness – he knew not.  His hands fumbled with the shirt buttons, and when he grew frustrated and would have torn the garment from his frame, another pair of hands were there.  Lovingly shoving his aside and finishing the job he couldn’t. 

The pair slid to the floor.  One naked, the other nearly so.  Impatience was eating at both of them, goading them on to complete this final bonding.  But they resisted the lure, wanting to savor the moment.  Prolong their bittersweet reunion. 

Spike’s hands were everywhere at once.  There wasn’t one spot left untouched, needing to reacquaint himself with his sire.  To find each spot that made the elder’s eyes burn brighter as his body was overcome with lust.  When Angelus was nothing more than a helpless, quivering mass…his body teetering on the edge of release by his childe’s touch alone, Spike took pity on him and wrapped his lips around the engorged cock jutting from the dark curls of his groin. 

Angel surged into his childe’s mouth, his fingers automatically gripping the short blond locks on his head. 

“William!  My sweet boy,” he babbled inanely.  After that initial thrust, he struggled to hold his body still, allowing Spike to set the pace.  How much of him the younger vamp took into his mouth.  His eyes rolled up, his face a mask of pure ecstasy as the other swallowed around his cock, throat muscles squeezing his length, the tongue that flicked along the veins on the underside of his shaft as Spike slowly withdrew – only to repeat the maneuver again and again, until Angel was ready to explode in his mouth. 

“Off,” he managed to gasp out.  “Take them off…wanna be…wanna be inside you…need to be…” 

Spike continued to suck, but one hand managed to work the fastenings of his jeans, his jerky movements assisting his lone appendage in removing that final barrier. 

Angel felt the movements and managed to pry his childe’s mouth off his dick, hissing slightly in pain-filled pleasure as the younger vamp’s teeth dragged along his length at the abrupt gesture.  Then he was throwing Spike to his back, quickly divesting him of the black jeans that’d he’d managed to lower to mid-thigh, tossing the offending item behind him. 

From his kneeling position between Spike’s parted legs, Angel lowered his body over the young vamp’s until they were lying chest to chest, their straining cocks brushing against each other’s.  Angel lay like that, unmoving, nearly overcome with emotion at finally being reunited with his lover of long ago.  The separated halves finally made whole.  His eyes lifted briefly to the girl laid out on the bed.  The girl he’d thought would redeem him. 

The feeling of jealousy came unbidden.  That she now had some claim to his boy.  That his sweet William had his own childe now, one that would demand his time…and other things.  A possessive growl resounded deep in his chest, causing Spike to raise his hands to his sire’s face and force the elder vamp to look at him. 

“Mine,” he growled, indicating the slayer.  Angel’s eyes flicked to amber, clearly not liking the other’s claim. 

Spike’s eyes soften at his sire’s jealousy, even while inside he thrilled at the elder vamp’s show of affection. 

“Mine,” Angel yelled at the blond-headed vampire.

“Yes,” he answered without equivocation.  Seeing Angelus’ confused expression, he elaborated. “I will have both.  Both you and the slayer.  We will be as it should have been.  She will love us both, just as I will love you both.” 

Deep brown eyes reclaimed dominance upon Angel’s features, boring into the deep blue of his childe’s.  “You love me?  After everything I’ve done…put you through?” 

“I loved you even when I hated you.  When I wanted to seek you out and stake you for leaving me with those two manipulative bitches.” 

“I’m sorry…I just didn’t think…I couldn’t kill anymore.  I still can’t…” 

“I know,” Spike whispered softly, his thumb rubbing his sire’s cheek in a soothing gesture. 

“And you still want me?” Angel couldn’t help but ask. 

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