Acrylic Dreams

Author: Foxhunt2blue

Parts: 6 - 10

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~Part: 6~

New York City
Ramada Inn
Room 312

Wes sat on the end of the bed, one leg tucked beneath him as he read the file in his lap. With each word he read his face paled just a bit more until he was pasty pale beneath the dark four o’clock shadow that dusted his cheeks. None of this made any sense---well it made sense, but it didn’t at the same time. He licked his dry lips and swallowed hard.

Slayer.

Child.

“Drink?”

Wes jumped as Giles held out a glass of amber liquid to him a concerned expression twitching his features.

Taking the glass Wes tossed it back in one great swallow, then hissed at the burn as it slithered down his parched throat. “I don’t understand…” he whispered in a rough voice.

“Yes…you do.” Giles replied as he sat down on the bed next to Wes.

Shaking his head Wes pulled his lean frame up from its slouched position and stood, refusing to meet Giles’ concerned eyes. “This says that my father was…that he was involved with his slayer. That he and she…that they…”

“Had an affair that produced a child.” Giles finished.

Wes spun around his face flushed with anger and confusion. “He died in ’76 before I was born…was I?”

Giles stood and stepped into Wes’ space, his hands gripping the younger man by his shoulders. “No. Your mother was Margaret…your father had another son. One who is the same age as you…” Giles’ voice trailed off as Wes lifted his gaze from the carpet, “…one who you’ve known all your life.”

Eyes widening Wes stumbled back. “William?”

“Yes.” Giles nodded as he slipped his glasses from his nose and began polishing them nervously.

“But…how?” Wes’ voice trembled.

Giles turned walking to the window and parted the drapes with one hand staring out at the darkness. “The Council requested I help them cover the indiscretions of your father. When he was killed by a group of vampires despite Katina’s best efforts she went mad.”

He glanced back at Wes and felt his throat tighten at the lost expression in his cobalt eyes---so much like William’s. “She went rogue and there was very little the Council could do to stop her without hurting the child she carried inside her.”

“My brother…” Wes dropped to the bed, his shoulders slumped, as tears began to well in his eyes.

“We…Jenny and I…agreed to raise the slayer’s child as our own, but we were never to reveal his true parent- age.” Giles turned back to the window unable to witness the grief of a man he had thought of as his son as well. “It seemed the perfect solution for all involved.”

“My mother?”

“She never knew about the child. It was best that way. You were raised to believe your father died a hero’s death defending his slayer. Moreover, you joined the Council just as I did upon my father’s death. They feared if the truth had been revealed that your mother would have fled and they would have lost the Wyndam- Pryce bloodline.”

“Bastards!” Wes growled. “Bloody bastards!”

Giles didn’t even flinch at the sound of shattering glass.

***

William stood at the kitchen window staring at the storm outside wondering if he had bloody well lost his mind finally. Just moments before he had come out of what he could only describe as a blackout to find himself beneath a naked man who claimed he was a vampire and now…

Well, now said man was rummaging through the cabinets searching for something to feed him.

He had no idea that at that same moment guilt was swelling in Angel’s gut because of that earlier incident. Angel’s brain told him it was just a coincidence that the boy looked like, Will, but his heart told his brain to go fuck itself.

Sighing Angel pulled out a jar of peanut butter and a partial loaf of bread setting it on the table, then retrieved a quart of milk from the fridge. Thank the powers that be that Doyle was constantly over here and bugging the shit out of him or the boy might just starve.

“Peanut butter?”

William turned from the window a look of utter confusion in his eyes. “What?”

“I…” Angel looked down at his meager offering on the table, “…all I have is peanut butter. Hope that’s all right? Vampire and all…don’t do human food. Doyle is always trying to get me to try it, but…” his voice trailed off as he wandered back to cabinet to retrieve a glass.

“Peanut butter is fine, luv.”

Angel turned with a weak smile and set the glass on the table, filling it with milk, as William sat down at the table. “Good…wasn’t exactly expecting company…”

“’S okay…” William opened the jar with a nervous grin, “…reminds me of my mum.”

Blinking back the tears that threatened Angel sat down stiffly across the table from William. “Your mum…was she nice?” Angel trailed his fingers along the rough wooden table trying not to look at the boy.

“Yes…very much so. Her name was Jenny and she reminded me of a gypsy---dark eyes and dark hair. When I was little I used to wonder how I turned out with blue eyes and reddish-blonde hair. Mum and dad told me when I was fifteen that I was adopted.” William took a bite of the sandwich he’d made, his eyes studying Angel across the table. “Do you remember your mum and dad?”

Angel glanced up with a jerky movement. “What?”

“Your mum and dad?” William frowned at the tortured expression he saw in Angel’s eyes.

“It’s complicated…” Angel mumbled as his eyes focused on a point beyond William’s shoulder.

“You killed them---didn’t you?”

Angel’s dark gaze lifted, glistening with tears. “I…I was different…then.”

“Different how?” William continued eating his gaze locked on Angel’s tear filled eyes.

“Didn’t have a soul…” Angel mumbled.

One of William’s dark eyebrows rose. “You have a soul?”

Angel nodded, unable to speak, as the memories of the past rose-up in his mind.

***

Romania 1898

“So you are the great Angelus?”

Angelus stood at the edge of the gypsy camp, William cradled in his arms. He’d almost had to drain his boy before he calmed down and now he was here. Here to beg like a mere human for help from the gypsy filth who’d done this horrid thing to his beloved childe.

“Aye…Angelus is me name. Though I’m not sure if the word great should be used before it now."

The gypsy elder raised one shaggy grey brow and pursed his lips beneath his mustache. “And what would a beast like you be wanting with the Kalderdash? We do not do deals with the like of you.”

“Yes…ye do.” Angelus whispered. “A wee bit of a lass came to ye not but a few nights ago. Perhaps she would be tellin’ ye a tale of pain and betrayal.” He shifted William in his arms, tears welling in his dark eyes.

“What is this?” The elder approached Angelus with a look of shocked curiosity in his black eyes. “Are you trying to fool me into believing that even a soulless creature may possess a heart?”

Shaking his head Angelus snarled. “Ye be the elder of the Clan Kalderash…and if yer power is as strong as ye claim, then ye’d be knowing even a demon is capable of love.”

The elder snorted and spit to the ground. “Do you think me a fool, Angelus?”

“Deltorio…”

Both men turned at the soft voice, their gaze focusing on an elderly woman with snow-white hair. The dark eyes that peered from beneath thick white lashes softened her sun-roughed features.

“Yes…mama…” the elder dropped to one knee as the woman shook her head in amusement.

“Demon…” the woman’s dark eyes focused on Angelus’ face streaked with glistening blood tinged tears, “…I know of the woman you speak of. She came to my son a fortnight ago, spoke of a demon with eyes of blue, and hair of spun gold that seduced her husband to be away.” She stepped to the edge of the camp, her hand lifting to open the blanket.

“Mama!” Deltorio stepped forward fear gleaming in his dark eyes.

“Hush!” The old woman snapped, her eyes never leaving William’s pale face. “This would be the demon she spoke of…” she paused glancing up into Angelus’ tear streaked face, “…but she was not what she claimed to be---was she?”

Angelus shook his head. “Nay…her name was Darla and she was me sire. This one…his name would be William and he would be me childe. Me third childe, but me most beloved. Darla was never one to care for the loss of attentions…” his voice cracked with anger and pain. “She was wantin’ to punish him…and me.”

The old gypsy woman nodded her head in understand- ing as she stroked William’s pale face. “I can not lift the curse from your childe, Angelus of the Aurelius. I am truly sorry for that. You see what one witch con- jures another can not break unless it runs its course first. There is something I can do for you though.” Her dark eyes focused back on Angelus’ face. “Do you know what I speak of Childe of Aurelius?”

Nodding Angelus trembled in fear. “Aye…I do know.”

“Then you have a choice to make. Return to this camp within three nights. When the moon is full and ripe if you have made your decision it shall come to pass.”

***

“You came back?”

Angel nodded tears in his eyes. “I couldna’ leave me boy lost in the sufferin’.” His voice thickened with the brogue that had drifted in and out all night. “’Sides I had committed the greatest atrocity a childe could be doing to its master…its sire…”

“You killed Darla---didn’t you?” William’s eyes softened at the pain he witnessed in Angel’s face.

“Aye…I killed her for she’d taken me boy away. Punished him because she was a jealous whore.”

“What did she have the gypsies do?” William’s heart thudded in his chest as he leaned across the table.

“Cursed me beautiful boy…cursed him with a soul that he should know the pain he’d caused in his immortal existence.”

A soul William thought to himself. He’d never thought for a moment that anything could shock him, but now here he was sitting and talking to a vampire---a bloody real life vampire. He swallowed hard, his fingers tracing the condensation from his glass.

“So what was it that the gypsy woman did for you?” He questioned Angel though he was damned sure he knew what it was.

***

Sheriff Alexander Harris stood staring down at the latest victim with a scowl. He was just too damn tired to deal with this right now, he thought. With the storm and the power outages, not to mention the washed out roads, he was at his wit's end.

“Same MO…”

He turned blinking the rain from his eyes to focus on Francis Doyle, the town doctor, and coroner. “Well I sorta saw that, Francis.” He grumbled.

“No need to be testy, boyo. I’m doin’ me best now.”

Doyle stepped under the overhang above the alley door to light a cigarette.

“That shit will kill you, Irish.” Harris snorted.

Raising a brow Doyle snorted softly. “Seems there’s a lot of things that can be killin’ you in this town.”

“Not funny…” Harris snatched the cigarette from Doyle’s mouth, taking a drag.

“Thought you’d stopped that.” Doyle took the cigarette back with a grin.

“Me too.” Exhaling into the wind swept alley Harris shifted his shoulders beneath his rain slicker. “So what’s the diagnosis?”

“I’d be sayin’ vampires, but I’d be guessin’ that you’d pound me ass.” Doyle chuckled softly.

“You’d be guessing right dumb ass!”

Silence settled around the two young men as they watched the deputies loading the body onto a gurney in a slick black body bag. Doyle shifted his gaze to Harris and let out a soft sigh. He’d not bothered telling Angel that there was another vampire in town visiting.

Already there was three victims spaced out and Sheriff Harris was getting an itchy trigger finger. Not that he blamed the sheriff, he thought, as his fingers reached up to play with the crucifix around his throat.

“Suddenly found religion, Irish?”

Doyle chuckled as he glanced up. “I’d suggest you find some, too.” Then he turned and headed back to the coroner’s wagon. It was going to be a long frigging night, Doyle thought.

***

“I told you not to go hunting!”

Darla found herself pinned to the wall by one slender hand, as Drusilla looked up at her with golden eyes.

“Now…now…grand-mummy…” Dru giggled softly, “…didn’t I tell you not to upset dolly?” She released Darla and watched as the woman slid to the ground coughing. “You really mustn’t overstep your bounds.”

Rubbing her throat Darla glared up at Dru with blood shot eyes. “You can’t keep doing this Drusilla. They’ll trace you back here somehow and then what you crazy bitch?”

“Dolly is careful. She never spills a drop.” Drusilla made a tutting sound as she dismissed Darla. “Besides someone already knows…oh, yes…perhaps dolly and I should go play doctor?”

***

“I have to go.” William stood mumbling to himself more than to the man in front of him.

“You can’t.” Angel stood with a quickness that had William’s heart pounding wildly.

Taking a few steps back, William sucked in a deep breath his eyes widening in fear. “You can’t stop me.”

“I could if I wanted, but I don’t want too.” Angel’s voice lowered. “I know you’re scared of me…but the storm is bad.”

William continued backing out his eyes still wide, his hands trembling as he reached for his jacket. “I’ve seen worse…” he swallowed hard at the look of embarrassed pain in Angel’s eyes.

“The road it…it washes out in these storms.” Angel turned putting away the bread and peanut butter, then dropping Will’s glass in the sink. “You haven’t warm enough clothes…the storms are cold even in summer here. Plus what kind of host would I be if I allowed you to leave in this mess.” He leaned against the counter his shoulders slumping. “I won’t hurt you, Will. I promise you that.”

A shiver traveled down William’s spine as he watched Angel’s shoulder sag. “Hey…not you I’m afraid of, pet. It’s me that I’m bloody well terrified of.”

Angel turned his eyes glistening in the dim light of the kitchen. “Why would you be afraid of yourself?”

“I’m afraid of…” he paused licking his lips, “…I’m afraid of the dreams.”

“What dreams?” Angel frowned, yet he didn’t move an inch.

“The dreams I’ve been having since I saw you on the beach the other night. The dreams I haven’t had in almost a decade.” William’s lower lip trembled. “I’m scared I’ll get lost in them and I won’t ever come back.”

Nodding Angel studied William’s terrified face, then stepped closer. William was so lost in his troubled thoughts he didn’t notice Angel had moved until the bigger man’s arm was wrapped around his shivering shoulders. He jerked away, but was almost immediately drawn back into Angel’s embrace.

“Who are you?” William whispered.

“Ye know me lad.”

“I know who you say you are, but is it true?”

Angel pulled him closer as he began to sob softly. “Aye…’tis true me sweet, Will. Ever word I spoke to ye tonight.”

“Then who am I?” Came Will’s muffled reply.

“Ye know inside who ye are Will. Just open yer eyes and the truth will come to ye my beautiful blue-eyed boy.”

A streak of lightening lit up the sky beyond the window as Angel rocked William in his arms, one hand stroking his back, and the other tangled in his tousled curls.

***

Norfolk, England October 1982

Standing in the doorway of his son’s bedroom Rupert watched with contented eyes as Jenny tucked William into bed. Almost six years since he’d come into their lives and with each passing year Rupert found himself loving the small boy more than he ever thought he would.

“Mummy…will you finish the story? Please?”

Jenny’s soft laughter echoed through the room as she leaned over William brushing a gentle kiss along his brow. Straightening she smiled down at the frowning boy as she tucked a strand of dark hair behind her ear.

“Tomorrow, William, I promise. It’s late now and you must have your sleep if you expect to be up in time to visit granny.”

Lower lip pushing out William sighed. “Granny won’t mind if we’re late, mummy.”

Rupert chuckled as he stepped into the room. “But I most certainly will. Now it is bedtime, William.”

“Yes…papa…” William lay back one tiny arm wrapped tightly around the newest gift from his grandmother.

Settling on the edge of the mattress Rupert brushed an errant curl from his son’s wide blue eyes. “So…have you named your pup?” He nodded at the shaggy stuffed dog with wide chocolate brown glass eyes.

William seemed to consider the question, then smiled wide at his father. “Yes, I have, papa.”

“And whatever shall his name be?” Rupert raised one amused brow.

Hugging his stuffed dog tightly, William smiled even wider. “He’s my guard dog…he’s taking care of me because he loves me. So he’s a guardian angel I guess. So his name is…Angelus.”

Rupert’s eyes widened for a moment. “Where did you hear that name?”

Frowning William looked up at his father confused at the tone in Rupert’s voice. “I made it up, papa. Is it a bad name?”

With a soft sigh, Rupert shook his head. “No…not at all, William. Just an unusual one.” He stood and joined Jenny at the door. “Sleep tight, William.”

***

Romania 1898

Three nights had passed and in that time Angelus had fought the idea planted in his mind by the Kalderash elder. He wanted to have his beautiful boy back, but she had told him she could not do it, that he had only one option.

Looking down at William’s sleeping face, he could even now see the pain in the lines around his eyes. His boy hadn’t deserved this punishment. Now he on the other hand deserved punishment, not only for his transgressions against humanity, but for his crimes against his own clan.

In the history of the Aurelius, no childe had ever killed their sire---until now.

Darla was ash, a forgotten memory, but he knew the Master would be hunting him now. Searching for the childe who had dared murder his favorite so that he might make the impudent creature pay.

Therefore, he chose his own punishment.

***

Angelus appeared at the edge of the gypsy camp, head bowed in a sign of supplication.

“Elder of the Kalderash I’ve come to ye for the punishment I so richly deserve. Ye’ve promised me this is the only way to salvation and the only way back to me sweet childe, William.”

From the shadows, the female elder appeared a glowing orb cradled in her hands. “That I did promise you demon…Angelus of the Aurelius. So what I have promised you I shall give.”

Her voice rose in a chant, a language that Angelus did not know nor did he wish, too.

A sudden sharp pain rushed through his body and he cried out falling to his knees. Panting he clenched his gut and tried to fight what he knew was coming. His pain grew in intensity as the gypsy woman’s voice rose on the night wind in a mystical song of both vengeance and atonement.

Angelus threw back his head letting out and animal scream as the power flooded him. As sudden as his scream started it fell silent as his eyes glowed with the powerful magic and something far more. His head fell forward as the light faded, his long dark hair shadowing his face.

“Angelus…do you hear my voice? What I have wrought let no other woman tear asunder. From this moment forward, you shall know all the pain and suffering you have caused in this world. Your soul is now bound to you, as is your childe’s to he. Together you are bound and may no creature of this earth take this away.”

Lifting his head Angelus’ once dark filled eyes now shimmered with a softer light. His face paled as he took in the words spoke and his memories surfaced in a tidal wave of blood and death. He shook his head a sob catching in his throat.

“Dear God in Heaven…what have I done? I couldn’t…I wouldn’t have…”

Stumbling to his feet, he ran for the trees, the sound of vomiting echoing back towards the gypsy camp.

“What have you done mama?” The High Elder whispered from the shadows as the last of the light faded from the orb.

“What had to be done my son. What the Prophecy of the Kalderash foretold generations ago.” The woman smiled as her gaze rose to the night sky.

“The Prophecy?”

Nodding the old woman turned to her son. “Two demon lovers…one cursed by jealousy, the other by it’s own wish. Locked together they shall fight against the darkness at the side of slayer until redemption is found.”

“But what curse did you lay upon him?”

“He like the other now possesses a human soul.”

~Part: 7~

Norfolk, England October 1982

Rupert rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried to suppress the headache that he was on the way to getting. He’d suspected over the past six years that his adopted son was exactly what the Council had thought, the first male slayer, and an anomaly. Now though he knew better. William was not a slayer, but he was something far more.

“How is it that he knows that name?”

Glancing up Rupert met his wife’s curious eyes. “I don’t know, Jenny.”

Jenny walked around the desk leaning against the front as Rupert closed his study door, his heart heavy. “I imagine you do Rupert, but I will not allow you to tell the Council. He is our son Rupert no matter what else he may be of that I am certain.”

“I would never…”

“Don’t deny it Rupert. I am not a stupid woman, in the least. The Council does nothing without a purpose and we both knew William was a child of questionable parentage. Roger was a damn fool to become involved with his slayer, but I know now that William isn’t what the Council might think he is.”

Slumping down in one of the chairs before his desk Rupert leaned forward, his face hidden in his palms as his wife knelt in front of him. He’d never been able to hide anything from Jenny, she could see into his soul so clearly. Perhaps he’d always known that this day would come.

“What did the slayer do? What did she do before her death?” Her hand settled on Rupert’s shoulder, fingers gently massaging the tense muscle. “The birthmark on William…” her breath was tense, “…I knew what it was just as…”

Rupert lifted his head staring into his wife’s sad tear- filled eyes. “What about the mark?”

Shaking her head Jenny stood and walked to the fireplace. She lifted one hand picking up one of the numerous framed photos that ran the length of the mantle. “He was always a bright child…”

“Jenny?”

“It is the Mark of Aurelius.”

Rupert was on his feet and at his wife’s side spinning her around with barely suppressed fury. “What do you know of the Aurelius?”

Soft laughter escaped from between Jenny’s lips as she met Rupert’s burning gaze. “You are not the only one with secrets, Rupert.” Her voice took on an edge of anger. “You always were to willing to accept certain things far to easily. Look at me…really look at me Rupert and tell me what you see.”

For the span of a few heartbeats Rupert Giles studied his wife’s face with an intensity he usually reserved for ancient texts. Then a light seemed to appear in his eyes as his hand slid down her arm to push the sleeve of her sweater up, baring the inside of her wrist. Against the pale smooth skin was the tattoo, delicate and small.

“You said you got this on a drunken dare your first year at Oxford.” His chest tightened as he lifted her arm closer studying the delicate soft swirls of black ink that traced over the faint blue vein beneath the skin. “You didn’t---did you?”

“No.” Jenny’s voice was a faint whisper. “I received the mark when I began my training.”

“Your training…” Rupert’s voice cracked.

“I knew that one day I would have to tell you this Rupert. I do love you deeply, but I could not reveal this to you…nor to anyone. My true name is Janna.”

His gaze lifted from her wrist to meet her dark eyes with a sudden understanding.

“I am Janna of the Kalderash. We who cursed William the Bloody beneath the bright light of the Mother and we who cursed Angelus as he begged us, too.”

Rupert dropped her wrist as if her skin burnt his hand, shaking his head in denial.

“William’s mother…the slayer…she murdered William despite the magic of my clan. He and Angelus were never to be touched, but her madness ripped their souls apart---didn’t it?”

“Dear God…” Rupert gasp, “…our son…the slayer’s child…”

Jenny nodded as she lifted her hand, cupping Rupert’s jaw. “Her child was the nearest vessel.”

***

He was lost.

A quivering mass of confusion and pain cradled in Angel’s arms. He couldn’t remember how he had come to be there, held gently in those strong arms, but it felt right.

“Hush, now me beautiful boy.” Angel whispered softly as he carried the weeping young man up the darkened stairwell back to his bedroom. “I’ll not be letting ye suffer alone. I’m here…now…never be leavin’ again me sweet poet.”

William buried his face into the vee of Angel’s neck, his hot tears painting the cool flesh with trails of salty pain and grief. His breath came in soft hiccups as Angel’s fingers caressed through his tangled hair and down his quivering back. For some reason he felt safe in this man’s, no vampire’s, arms. It was as if he had been here before and it was home.

Kicking open the door, Angel crossed the fire lit room and lay William on the bed. Carefully he removed William’s shoes, socks, and then the tee shirt William had borrowed from him. Pulling the comforter around William’s shivering form, he paused to study the younger man’s face with sad eyes. Dark smudges hollowed out the wide cobalt eyes that looked back at him with a desperate need.

The need to understand what was happening to him.

“Don’t leave…” William whispered softly.

Angel smiled down at William, then settled on the edge of the mattress. “Not leavin’…told ye that me boy.”

A soft hiccup escaped William as Angel stood, then crawled onto the bed next to him, beneath the comfort- er, and pulled him close.

“I couldna’ if I tried. They brought ye back to me.” Angel’s lips caressed William’s tear stained cheek.

“Not Spike…” William sighed softly. “He’s gone. I’m William James Danridge…I’m a writer…”

“And me Will was a writer as well…a poet.” Angel wrapped his arms tighter around the boy. “This canna’ be a coincidence. Too much is right. Yer face, yer eyes, ye have ta’ be him.”

“No…” William whimpered.

“Yes.” Angel’s voice was firm, yet soft. “Tell me of yer dreams, William.” He placed a gentle kiss on William’s brow as he stroked his fingers along his cheek. “Tell me and let me know the truth.”

Looking up with glimmering wet eyes, William took a breath and began to speak.

***

Romania 1898

Angelus struggled through the forest stopping every few paces to heave until his throat ached.

Faces so many faces, all of them crying out in pain.

Over a hundred years of murders, rapes, and tortures beyond human comprehension. All of those deeds done with his demonic hands, haunting his soul.

Falling to his knees, he moaned in anguish, his fingers clawing at the earth as if to dig a hole in which he could bury his sins. There was no hole deep enough though to hide away these nightmares.

“Daddy?”

Angelus looked up with swollen tear-filled eyes at his second childe, Drusilla. “Dru? Love…I’m not feelin’ well…”

Cocking her head Drusilla studied Angelus with dark, vacant eyes, then sniffed the night wind. “Nasty gypsies hurt daddy.” Her words were filled with a dark sadness.

Gasping Angelus tried to pull himself to his feet only to be brought down by a swing of Drusilla’s arm. He spit blood and tried to stand again. “Drusilla, love, don’t be afraid.”

“Not afraid. Know what you did to grand-mummy…” she hissed softly. “Let the little prince with the nasty soul out of the dark ground. Went in search, but grand- mummy didn’t like it.” She smiled her eyes swallowing up all the light. “Punished grand-mummy…ashes to ashes…dust to dust. Master is coming…run daddy …run…”

Drusilla wandered away her laughter like sharp blades digging beneath Angelus’ skin. He had to find the strength to get to William, he thought. Drusilla may be daft, but she was no fool. If the girl said the Master was coming, then he was coming and there’d be hell to pay.

***

“I saw you…” William’s voice was weak, almost childish in his confusion.

“Where?” Angel whispered.

Frowning William burrowed deeper into the cool comfort of Angel’s body. “Cottage…it was dark. And it hurt.” He glanced up at Angel, tears streaking his face with shimmering trails of moisture. “You…but not you. Had long hair…down to your shoulders.”

A shiver rippled through William’s body as his confused gaze dropped down to the comforter. His head was so full of images, disjointed and painful, that seem- ed to back up what Angel claimed. But it wasn’t Angel, not completely. A part of him seemed to know that what Angel suggested was real. All his life he had suffered from the dreams and the blackouts, until that final blackout in an alley in London with his friends.

“I was him.”

Angel lifted William’s chin with his fingertips. “Yes.”

“Then how did he…I…?” His gaze locked with Angel’s then traveled down to settle on the silver chain that encircled his neck. “This…” he whispered, one finger tracing the chain, “…what is it? Thought silver was…”

“No. Just poisonous to werewolves.”

William chuckled softly. “Bleedin’ werewolves are real then, pet?”

“Aye. Knew a real nice one in New York…name was Oz. He was a guitarist in a punk band…”

“Daniel.” William looked up at Angel. “His name was Daniel Osbourne…used to drink with the little shite in the Village.”

“How…?”

William smiled weakly. “You said it yourself, luv. I was there…I’m…”

“Spike.” Angel finished the sentence.

Suddenly William’s eyes rolled back in his head and he began to convulse.

***

Somewhere over the Atlantic Watcher’s Council Private Jet

Travers sat, his gaze staring out the small window to the thick landscape of clouds the passed. He was furious, but it only showed in his eyes as he sipped his glass of scotch.

The impertinence of Rupert Giles was what infuriated him more than anything did. The Council had entrusted him with the care of the slayer’s child almost thirty years ago, but now he would presume to lock them out when it was time for them to take over. No one had seen the truth of Rupert’s betrayal with the exception of him. The foolish man had come to care far too much for the boy and now that was a problem most of the Council were too weak to deal with.

“Sir?”

Glancing up Travers met his PA’s gaze. “Yes, Paul?”

“The jet will be landing shortly. I’ve arranged for a team to meet us at the airport. Do you have any specific requests for the team?”

Travers tapped the edge of his glass thoughtfully. “Yes I do.” He smiled though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Make sure they have tranquilizers for the vampire.”

“Don’t you mean vampires?” Paul raised a brow.

“Not at all Paul. The only vampire we need worry about is Angel…his childe…let us just say she is under our protection and control.”

“Very good, sir”

***

Rupert drove silently through the pouring rain only casting a furtive glance occasionally at young man sitting beside him. They’d been driving for close to an hour and in that time Wesley hadn’t spoken a single word. He sat silently slumped in the passenger seat his gaze focused on the storm drenched landscape beyond the window, lost in his own thoughts.

Frankly Rupert couldn’t blame Wesley for his reaction to the bomb that he himself had dropped in the young man’s. Just twenty-four hours earlier Wesley Wyndam- Pryce had been a Watcher in the small southern California town of Sunnydale, a husband, and a soon to be father. He’d also been an only child with a rich history that included a hero father that had died protecting his own slayer. Now he was the son of a lying, cheating man who had disgraced his position in the Council by fathering a child with his charge.

Wasn’t life just friggin’ grand, Rupert thought with bitter disgust.

“Did Jenny know?”

Glancing across the car to Wesley’s pale visage Rupert sighed. “Yes…but it’s complicated.”

A soft snort escaped Wesley. “Complicated? Well that is quite rich. As if things were not already complicated in my life.”

“This is not just about you, Wesley.” Rupert gritted his teeth. “This is about my son and what those bastard’s want to do with him.”

Turning from the window Wesley studied Rupert’s profile with haunted eyes. “The Council? What do they want with my bro…William?”

“They think he is something he’s not. They’ve taken enough from me already and damn them to everlasting hell if they rip William from me as well.”

The bitterness in Rupert’s voice caused Wesley to sit up, his face paling. “Jenny…they murdered Jenny.”

“Yes.” Came Rupert’s whispered answer, tears glittering in his eyes.

***

Norfolk, England April 7, 1992

William walked alongside his mother, his head hanging down gaze focused on the dirt road as his sneakers sent little rocks rolling. He wasn’t sure why his mother had insisted they go for this walk, but he was quite sure that it was about the spells. He’d had another one in his physical education class during swimming and he’d almost drowned. The school rather than risk a lawsuit had sent him home telling both his parents that perhaps it would be best if he were educated at home until the illness he suffered was diagnosed.

“Sweetheart?”

He glanced up with wide cobalt eyes from behind his glasses and shook a lose curl of hair from his face. “yes, mum?”

“I believe that we have something to discuss.”

A faint blush rose in William’s cheeks at the earnest expression in his mother’s warm eyes. “It’s not my fault, mum. I can’t be held responsi…”

Jenny wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew him into a warm embrace. “No it’s not your fault. There are things that you need to be told, things that we’ve kept from you.” She paused her gaze drifting out over the softly rolling hills. “We love you William…you do know that?”

He couldn’t help the look of shock that crossed his young face. “Of course I do, mum!” He drew back chewing on his lower lip nervously. “You and father have always been the best parents a boy could wish for in this world. I think I was bleedin’ lucky to have you take me in.”

A soft clucking escaped Jenny as she turned to her son with a smile. “You mustn’t speak like a dirty faced guttersnipe, William. You know how your father and I feel about that type of language.”

“Yes, mum.” His head dropped in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, luv.”

As he lifted his gaze back to his mother’s amused face he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. In that moment time seemed to slow to a stand still.

A dark sedan.

Tinted windows.

The cloud of dust as it seemed to appear from nowhere.

Those words were the last clear words that his mother spoke to him until the day she died almost three weeks later.

William opened his mouth screaming at his mother as he started to move forward. To his utter horror Jenny pushed him backwards as she saw the car barreling towards them.

As he hit the ditch on his back everything began to speed up and sharpen. It was like watching the scene unfold through a magnifying glass---crystalline clear.

His mother’s scream.

Flesh against metal.

The sickening crunch of bones.

By the time William managed to crawl from the ditch, clutching his sprained wrist the sedan was gone. The only sign it had existed was the cloud of dust in the air settling around the crumpled body in the road.

Whimpering in despair William crawled to his mother’s side, his hands busily stroking the crushed and bloodied face. One leg was twisted at an unnatural angle as was one arm, and he fancied that he saw what could only be pure white bone peering from ripped flesh.

“Mum…please God…mum…” he whimpered his vision clouding with tears. “Talk to me mum…please mum…”

Lifting his hand he finally saw the blood, vivid against his pale fingers and he began to wail incoherently. That was how the farmer had found him.

Kneeling in the center of the road, his hands stained scarlet from Jenny’s blood, and wailing as he held her in his arms. She wasn’t dead, but perhaps it would have been better had she been. For she suffered a great deal over the next few weeks and William would blame himself for years to come.

***

Angel held William tightly to his chest as the young man wailed and thrashed, his nose bleeding as the memories of another life tore into him. Fragments of words slipped through the animalistic cries and as those word came together Angel felt the anger rise.

Anger and tears that were so bitter they were poison to his soul. He’d lost his childe, his lover, and his best friend, but despite that he’d only been able to survive with one thought---heaven.

He’d always hoped even believed that Spike had found heaven and something akin to rest on the other side of death. That hadn’t been the case though. He’d died only to be forced back into this world to suffer the torments of his previous life. Memories of a life that Angel had forced upon him in a dark alley.

Forced was what he’d done, too.

No matter how he painted it William had never really wanted what he’d become. He’d been a gentle man, a poet, and a man who was far more human than the world deserved. Even after Angelus had finished what Drusilla started William had never been quite like a typical vampire. He’d relished those things that a human left behind when they were embraced.

“Hush…hush little one…” Angel rocked back and forth, blood tinged tears streaking his pale smooth face. “It will be better I promise ye…I promise…”

***

Darla knocked at the door, then quietly pushed open the door into the dim candlelit room. To her utter surprise Drusilla was standing quietly at the window overlook- ing the cove, one of her china dolls clutched in her arms.

The silence was eerie.

“Drusilla?”

There was a faint sigh of unneeded breath from the still figure at the window.

“Drusilla?” Darla questioned again as she crept closer.

“Do you hear it grand-mummy?”

Darla’s forehead creased with a deep frown. “What?”

“The spirits of the air are singing.” Drusilla began to sway like a cobra ready to strike. “They sing and whisper a little song…whisper all their secrets in Drusilla’s ear…one plus one is two…” she began singing softly.

“What does that…?”

“Shhh…two little mice scurrying in the bone house. One meets the other and they scare one another. One is old the other new…together they equal one not two.”

Eyes widening Darla smiled.

“My prince is coming grand-mummy…” Drusilla whispered softly, “…he’s coming…he’s coming…”

***

Beyond the cottage a streak of lightening hit the lighthouse sending the roof up in a ball of fire that was so bright it’s light pierced the heavily draped windows of the bedroom. Angel glanced up at the resounding boom of the thunder that shook the walls like an unearthly voice, a shudder traveling through him as he held William tighter.

It was as if that one bolt of lightening had silenced the earth herself.

That was when he noticed that the convulsions had ceased to rip through the slender body in his arms and now William lay still as the dead. Swallowing back the taste of none existent bile Angel’s gaze lowered to the angelic face of the young man in his arms. That one glimpse brought back memories of a filthy, stench riddled alley.

“Will…” he whispered the younger man’s name as he lifted a hand to one pale cheek. “William can ye hear me?”

Suddenly the young man took a ragged breath, his eyes popping open. Angel frowned at what he saw in their cobalt depths, something that made him shudder with a mixture of fear and desire.

A tiny smirk curled those perfect full lips as the boy lifted one hand to caress Angel’s trembling jaw.

“Seems Willie decided to let me bleedin’ arse out to play finally. Took him soddin’ long enough.”

“Spike?” Angel croaked out.

“Yeah, luv. It’s me, but I don’t know for how long. So how’s about you give us a kiss and get on with it mate?”

“With what?” A tremor traveled through Angel as he sat mesmerized by those sparkling eyes.

“Let’s start off where we left off, luv.” The younger man pushed himself up on his elbows claiming Angel’s mouth with a passionate kiss. Pulling back he smiled at Angel’s shocked expression. “Do it.”

Angel licked his lips nervously. “What?”

“Make me what I was, luv. Make me immortal again so we can be together.”

~Part: 8~

“No.”

Spike’s sharp eyes filled with a fury that boiled beneath the surface, ready to explode any moment. “No?”

“You heard me.” Angel turned away from the accusing cold blue stare. “You’re dead.”

Suddenly Spike reached out pushing Angel backward off the bed with a growl. “Dead? Dead is it now? And if I’m dead you soddin’ git then why am I here?”

Scrambling to his feet Angel growled in his throat. “I don’t know…” his eyes flashed amber as he turned from the pale man in his bed.

“Bloody slayer took me from you.” Spike snarled softly. “Yanked me from you and our life!”

Angel’s shoulders slumped as he leaned against the mantle, staring into the flickering fire. “Aye…” he whispered softly, “…that she did.” He jerked at the feel of William’s warm arms encircling his waist. “Don’t.”

A warm pliant body molded itself to his back and the single tear that had been trembling on Angel’s lashes finally fell. He could feel the gentle beating of William’s heart against his spine and it made the tears fall faster, trembling in the firelight like tiny jewels against his pale face.

“Don’t cry, pet. I’m sorry…was wrong of me to demand what I did.”

Gentle lips pressed against the ridge of his spine beneath the worn cotton of his tee shirt. For one horrifying moment the thought of taking William over did cross Angel’s mind, but this wasn’t Spike, not the one he’d loved. He pulled away from the warm body behind him and paced back to the bed.

“Go back to where you came from.”

“Don’t think so, luv.”

Angel turned to look at the man who had shattered his fragile glass house into a pile of silver splinters. “I think that whatever you were…whoever you were---it’s in the past. Go and forget this place---forget me.”

Spike pouted. “Thought you loved me.”

“I do…I did…shit…” Angel swallowed hard, his gaze dropping to the floor.

“Then why do you want me to go? Is it because of him?”

Angel’s head jerked up, his dark eyes dilated, and glistening with tears. “You’re a dream Spike…a ghost from my past. There’s no place for you now.”

One dark brow arched as Spike moved across the room to where Angel stood. “That so? You know I felt it.”

“What?” Angel choked out between dry lips.

“Your heart…breakin’ when that bitch staked me. I was there still, my soul, and then…whoosh!” Spike flung his hand out in a wild gesture, his eyes glittering in the candlelight. “It was dark, warm like fresh blood. I tried to remember you…remember us, but the bleedin’ bastards locked it away.” His voice fell to a faint whisper.

Clutching his hands over his ears Angel began shaking his head furiously. “It’s not possible…not possible…”

“That what you think, pet?” Spike’s voice was even softer, warm silk against Angel’s skin. “I kept fighting to remember…to come back, but it was hard. Just seconds here and there. Then I came here…saw you on the beach and it all came rushing back.”

“No…no…” Angel whimpered closing his eyes against the vision of his dead lover.

“Yes, baby…Spike’s back.”

Angel jerked back at the feel of warm breath on his ear, his eyes growing wide. “This isn’t possible.”

A soft smirk curled Spike’s lips. “Neither were we… vamps with souls, but we existed.” His hand slid down Angel’s chest, fingers circling his nipple beneath the soft cotton. “I missed you, luv. Make love to me…”

His lips were so soft, so sweet as he took Angel’s mouth in a lingering kiss. Drawing back Angel looked into those bottomless pools of blue and sucked in an unneeded breath.

“Yes…” Angel whispered.

***

Harris sat at his desk chewing his lip thoughtfully as he read over the files on the two previous murders. There was something gnawing at his gut that he didn’t want to accept.

Two small puncture wounds.

Bodies empty of all their blood.

Cursing beneath his breath he pushed the chair back and stood, running his fingers through his dark, shaggy hair. He felt like he was in the middle of a horror movie and that didn’t bode well for his little town.

“Has to be some freak that thinks he’s a vampire.” He whispered to the empty room.

“Not really, Harris.”

He turned on his heel, gun in hand, to see Doyle leaning in his office door. “What the hell is up with the creep- ing, Doyle?!”

Doyle lit up a cigarette and contemplated the glowing tip with a frown. He really did need to quit ‘again’, he thought. “Not creeping…I needed to talk to you in private.”

“So talk.” Harris sighed as he slumped in his chair.

“Ain’t a freak…it is a vampire. Thing is I’m not sure where this one came from.” Doyle exhaled a cloud of silvery blue smoke, his gaze following the motion as it curled to the ceiling and dissipated.

Harris’ dark brows rose comically as he stood almost flipping his chair over in the process. “What the hell do you mean---this one??” His fist clenched around the butt of his revolver.

Lowering his gaze Doyle shrugged. “Hate to break the news to you Xander, but we already had one here. ‘Course he wasn’t a threat so…” his words trailed off as he smirked in amusement.

“This is fucking crazy! There are no such things as vampires!”

There was a sudden flash of eerie blue light and both men turned to see what could only be called a portal opening in the middle of the office. Harris aimed his gun at the liquid flow of energy, his eyes wide and his palms slick with sweat.

“What the fuck!” He yelped.

Doyle grinned glancing down at his watch. “I’d be saying that’s our back up.”

“Back up? BACK UP?!!” Harris screamed over the roaring wind as papers flew around the room.

“Yep…back up!” Doyle’s grin, widened.

Suddenly the light vanished and in its place stood two young women---one blonde and the other a red head.

“What the fuck?”

The red head smiled as she stepped forward shyly her companion a few steps behind her. Holding out her hand she spoke softly, but there was nothing shy about her voice. “Willow Rosenberg…you must be Sheriff Harris. It’s nice to meet you.” She raised a brow in amusement at the vacant look of shock on Harris’ face.

“Hey, welcome to Finch’s Cove. I’m Doyle.” Doyle stepped forward taking Willow’s hand and kissing it. “Angel didn’t tell me you were such a becoming lass.”

A rush of pink colored Willow’s cheeks as she turned back to her companion. “He warned me about you. This is my partner Tara. So now that the introductions have been made---where’s Will at?”

Frowning Harris glanced between the two women and Doyle. “Will? Who the fuck is Will? And would someone mind telling me exactly what the fuck is going on!”

“William Danridge is who Will is and he’s the answer to your problems, Xander.” Doyle dropped his cigarette crushing it out on the tile floor. “Now ladies we have to go see a vampire about a writer.” He turned heading out of the office, the two women on his heels.

Glancing up at the ceiling Alexander Harris rolled his eyes. “Why me? What did I do?”

“Nothing so far Sheriff Harris,” Willow called over her shoulder, “…but if I were you I’d invest in a crucifix and a few wooden stakes.”

“Shit…” Harris sighed as he grabbed his keys, follow- ing the others out of the office and into the storm.

***

Angel had missed this like nothing else in his long life, the feel, the taste, the scent of Spike---of his Will. Yes, there was a part of him that knew this wasn’t ‘his’ Spike, but it didn’t matter. The body was new, it was human, but it was still Spike’s.

He rolled Spike over his mouth claiming Spike’s in a harsh brutal demonic kiss. Beneath him Spike growled giving as good as he got. Lips, teeth, and then tongues clashed for dominance, but Angel knew this was just foreplay. When all was said and done ‘his’ boy would spread his legs and beg him. It was all part of the game, it had been for almost a hundred years.

Grasping Spike’s wrists in one hand he drew his arms up pinning them above his head with a growl that vibrated through both their bodies. “Mine…” Angel whispered his voice rough with a need that spanned thirty years.

A soft rumbling purr escaped Spike as he lifted his hips grinding up into Angel’s. “Always were a needy bastard---weren’t ya’, pet?” A smirk curled Spike’s lips, now bruised and moist from the kissing. “Always had to have me…no matter the cost.”

Suddenly Angel pulled back his eyes darkening with a shadow of shame. “Don’t do this to me…” he whisper- ed softly, “…don’t do this to him.”

“I am him you bleedin’ ponce!” Spike growled struggl- ing against Angel’s grip. “I’ve always been him…he just didn’t know it. He wants you just like I always did.” His eyes softened just a bit as he smiled sadly up at Angel. “Is it so hard to imagine we are the same?”

Angel sat up releasing Spike and turning his back to those passionate eyes that looked into his soul with an ease that frightened him. “No…no it’s not. That’s the problem.”

Warm arms encircled him as Spike sat up, the mattress shifting beneath him. “Not a problem, luv.”

A sad laugh escaped from Angel as he dropped his face into his palms. “Is that right? This is insane…you died…YOU DIED!!!” His voice rose edged with hysteria.

“Body only…not me bleedin’ soul. Now I’m back and all I want is to be with you. That so sodding much to ask??” Spike’s voice quavered. “It’s not insane it’s that bleedin’ gypsy magic. Same as it was a hundred years ago. Can’t move on…not without…”

Turning Angel grabbed Spike’s shoulders shaking him furiously. “What?! Without what?!!”

Wet wide cobalt eyes shifted up to look at him through damp lashes. “Without…you.”

Suddenly Angel was on top of him, ripping open his jeans, as his brutal kiss moved from mouth to jaw to throat. Seconds later Spike’s jeans were tossed to the floor as Angel’s mouth descended with a flurry of nips and licks to his chest, lips latching onto one pale rosy nipple.

Crying out in a mixture of pain and pleasure Spike’s back bowed as Angel’s blunt teeth scraped across his nipple. A moan vibrated through his chest as he pushed against the cool slickness of a tongue that he’d not felt for far too long, tasting his flesh, and promising far more pleasure to come.

“Please…” he whimpered softly as Angel’s mouth released his nipple only to move to the opposite. “Please don’t leave me, luv.”

“Never me sweet boy…never again.”

The answer was more than he’d hoped for. He could feel the dominant part of his soul cry out in fear and Spike knew that soon he would lose himself again. The idea of never being like this again caused tears to swell over his lashes, trickling down on the soft, silk of the pillows beneath his hair. Inside he begged William to understand to give him this one moment.

***

//I’m a part of you, William. Just as you’re a part of me.//

//Please…I’m frightened. I don’t understand what’s happening.//

//We’re one soul, pet. One soul rent by gypsy magic into two pieces. You know what I’m saying is true.//

//He was…our…my…//

//Yes, pet. We were meant to be together forever. Sire and childe. Friends and lovers. The slayer broke the bonds that were never suppose to break.//

//Her pain…//

//Yes. Now we need to fix it. We need him…//

//Just as he needs us…//

***

Angel’s mouth moved down to leave a trail of cool kisses along Spike’s stomach or was it William’s, he wondered as he glanced up through dark lashes. His hand slid up along ribs heaving with a very human need to breathe, taking in the silky warm skin, and finally came to rest over a heart that beat with life. His breath hitched in his throat, a breath he truly didn’t need as he met bright eyes glistening with tears.

“William?” Angel whispered through a tight throat.

“Liam…” William’s voice was soft with want.

“Spike?” Tears welled in Angel’s eyes.

“Yes…” William gasped softly.

“How?” His lips brushed William’s heaving stomach.

Those too bright eyes focused on Angel’s tear streaked face and a tiny smirk, so very like Spike, curled William’s mouth. “One and the same…but so much more, luv.”

His words caught in his throat as he studied a face so familiar, yet different. “I don’t understand…” Angel’s voice trailed off.

Pushing himself up on his elbows William smiled at Angel. “Don’t think I do either, pet. Just do one thing for us..."

“What?” Angel’s dark eyes dilated and shimmered with a faint sheen of gold.

“Make love to us, pet.”

That was all Angel needed to hear.

***

“This is not good.”

Darla glanced up from where she’d been reading by the fire. If there was one thing she hated about being human it was the need for warmth. A shiver ran down her spine as she pulled her sweater tighter around her body.

“What is it, Drusilla?”

Turning from the window Dru let the heavy drapes fall blocking out the storm that had once more heaved into a rage. “Daddy…and my prince…” her lower lip pouted out.

“What about Angel? What’s happened?”

Crossing her arms and stamping her foot Dru’s pout grew into a growl of anger. “The two little mice they are becoming one! And the annoying doctor has brought someone to see William…” she paused chewing her lip thoughtfully.

“Who?!” Darla demanded.

“Sparkles…sparkles everywhere…magic dust and doorways in the air. Hair on fire like licking flames and another tiny mouse…a quiet mouse with golden locks.”

***

Just outside the town limits Sheriff Harris’ Blazer struggled to make it’s way up the steep incline of Widow’s Walk. Rain pounded against the windows refusing to allow very little visibility and the tires spun trying to find some traction in the thick sludge that had been a road a few hours before.

“Fuck a fuzzy duck!” Harris growled as he shifted gears.

Doyle’s brow rose in shock. “Now Xander don’t be forgetting there are ladies present. A gentleman watches his language when in the presence of ladies.”

Snorting Harris glared at Doyle from the corner of his eye. “Is that who they are---ladies? Last time I checked ladies don’t pop out of thin air.”

A faint giggle drifted from the back seat. “You…you know that he’s right.”

With a gentle grin Doyle half turned in his seat to meet the young blonde’s wide eyes. “Tara---was that your name now? Don’t speak much do you lass.”

Her cheeks blossomed a bright pink as she ducked her head. “N…no…” she stuttered softly.

“She’s shy.” Willow turned from the window, grinning at Doyle. “I’ve been meaning to ask you Doyle…how long have you known Angel?”

“Ten years. Since he moved here to Finch’s Cove.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “You don’t look that old Doyle.” She reached down squeezing Tara’s hand where it lay on her thigh.

“I was eighteen when I met him. Me parents had only been here for a year. Moved from Dublin to find a safer place to finish out their years. All the fighting between our people had finally got to them.” Doyle shifted in his seat again, searching his pockets until he found his crumpled pack of Marlboros. “I met Angel one night on the beach…he intrigued me. Been friends every since, even wrote to each other while I was away at medical school. He kept an eye on me lil’ sis while I was away.”

“Awww…I see.” Willow turned back to the window staring out into the storm.

“So how long have you known Angel, lass?” Doyle lit his cigarette despite the snarl from the driver’s seat.

“I don’t really know him. I know Rupert Giles--- William’s father. Rupert knows Angel.” Willow answered softly.

“Then how is it that William wouldn’t be knowin’ about Angel?” Frowning Doyle inhaled.

“Rupert was always careful not to allow William into his world. I met Rupert when I was thirteen. If it weren’t for him I might have self-destructed. I’m a natural witch and I’d become addicted to magic on a level I doubt you could comprehend. “ She sighed softly glancing over at Tara who smiled shyly. “He saved me from myself and brought me to the coven where I met Tara. A few years later he sat it up so his son and I met. William and I became fast friends, but he never knew I was there originally to evaluate him.”

***

Norfolk, England April 30, 1992

William sat staring out the window wrapped in a blanket, his knees drawn up, and his chin resting on his folded arms. Outside the sky was gray, a low layer of clouds stretching as far as the eye could see. Huge droplets of rain began splattering across the glass as he stared straight forward, not really seeing anything.

It had been three days since his mother had been lain to rest in the cold earth. He imagined that Wesley was perhaps sitting in his dorm room sipping a cup of tea right now. A sniffle escaped him as he rubbed his face against the thick wool of the blanket, he missed Wesley something awful. He’d hoped that his friend could stay awhile, but he’d had to return to the academy.

“William?”

He swallowed hard at the sound of his father’s voice as he stared out at the dreary darkness beyond the glass. His father had even abandoned him, he thought. Going back to London the day after his mum’s funeral. So he’d been left in the tender care of Joyce Summers, the housekeeper.

“William? Can you hear me?”

Wiping at the silent tears that stained his face with the edge of the blanket William took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“I’d like you to meet someone.”

He nodded numbly without ever glancing away from the window. He was so tired and he really didn’t wish to speak with anyone, but he’d promised his mum that he would be good for his father. Turning his gaze settled on a young woman, around his age, who was smiling shyly from beneath a tangle of fire red hair.

“This is Willow Rosenberg.” Rupert smiled at William. “She’ll be staying with us for a few weeks. Willow this is my son, William.”

The young girl stepped forward, her hot pink sneakers squeaking on the smooth polished floor. “It’s nice to meet you William.”

He’d stared at the young girl for a moment, then raised one dark brow in curiosity. “So you’re American then.”

“Yeah…California. I’m sort of hanging out until my dad comes back from his trip to Madrid. So you’re William? Your dad is cool and everything…you must really like him…”

Turning back to the window William snorted. “You talk too much.”

Willow’s eyes grew huge and her cheeks glowed bright pink. “And you’re a rude little…all with the snot nosed…brat!” She snapped.

With a jerk William turned back to the young girl to see her glaring angrily at him, arms crossed over her breasts, and sneakered foot tapping impatiently. He grinned suddenly his eyes lighting up for the first time since his mother’s funeral.

“I bloody well like you, Red. Lots of spunk for such a skinny thing.”

***

He’d never been with a man---at least not in this life.

His body burned with a need he didn’t understand, yet a part of him did understand. It was the part that had lov- ed and desired Angel before this human body existed.

Whimpering he writhed beneath Angel, he legs falling open to it, his cock swelling, his entire body on fire with that need. He opened his eyes to see Angel, his head now resting on his naked hip, his tongue flicking out along the edge of dark coarse hair that surrounded his need. Framed flesh made iron by just the faint dream like memories of another life, another existence that he had led.

“Please.”

It was the only word that William could think of at the moment, the only one that could describe what he wanted. He tried to force all of that longing and want into that one simple word, but it didn’t seem enough.

It never had.

Angel’s dark gaze met his as he lifted his head from its resting spot. His long graceful fingers playing across smooth skin, combing through dark hair, and finally coming to rest on William’s cock.

“Please…what?” Angel whispered.

William’s wide blue eyes fluttered shut for a moment, then he whispered back. “Help me remember, luv.”

Fingers curling around William’s cock, Angel lowered his mouth, his tongue flicking across the leaking head gathering the clear fluid. Just the touch of Angel’s tongue was enough to cause William to cry out for more, his hips jerking, as Angel pinned him down with one large hand.

“Shhh…little one. There’s so much more to come.”

His fingers clawed at the sheets as Angel took the head of his cock between cool lips and suckled gently. Those long graceful fingers working the foreskin back in time with the lips working just the tip drove William into a frenzy of moans and whimpers.

“God…please…Angel…” his voice rose, almost over- whelming, in his need. “Want you…need you…God missed you…”

Lifting his head Angel smiled at William. “Missed you too…my beautiful boy.” Rolling from the bed Angel padded across the room to the bathroom. Behind him he could hear William’s soft whimpering as he called over his shoulder. “It’s okay…be right back.”

A few seconds later he returned with a bottle of bath oil and knelt next to William. His free hand lifted to stroke the young man’s face, taking in the high cheekbones and the soft lips. “Told you I’d be back sweet Will.”

William’s eyes fluttered open, his pupils dilated to the point where his eyes appeared almost black. “Liam…I …I…” he licked his lips nervously.

“I know…” Angel whispered softly, his fingers tracing the boy’s lips. “You remember, but you’ve never been with another man in this life. I promise you…I’ll be gentle.”

Blinking William sniffled, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m afraid…he…he told me it might hurt.”

Angel leaned in his lips brushing William’s gently. “We don’t have t…”

“I want to be with you again. I want to be loved like I was loved before…before she tore us apart.”

Hushing the boy, Angel grabbed a pillow and urged William to lift his hips. “Spread your legs for me baby boy. I’ll make you feel good…promise.”

With a soft sigh he spread his legs, knees drawn back, as Angel settled between them. This was what had haunted him for so long---the need. A need from another place and another time that had gnawed at his gut until he’d thought he was going mad. Visions and dreams of a man he’d never seen until that night on the beach.

His fantasy.

His god.

“Please…sire.”

Angel growled softly in the back of his throat as he opened the bottle of oil and poured it in his palm. Closing the bottle he tossed it to the side and began rubbing his hands together warming it as best he could.

“Say it again me sweet poet…” Angel hissed softly as his oiled hands began to massage William’s quivering thighs.

“Sire…” William moaned softly.

“Yes…that’s it my beautiful blue eyed boy. Again.”

“Sire…”

Angel’s hands trailed down, cupping and massaging his boy’s balls. “Again me love.”

“Sire…”

His fingers released their grip on William’s balls, then drifted down his perineum, slicking it with warm jas- mine scented oil. “I love yer voice lad…like the song of angels in heaven.”

Finally his fingers found what they sought. William gasped as the tip of Angel’s oiled finger circled the tight bud, his nail scraping over the puckered flesh, sending a shiver through the body he explored. He lowered his head, his tongue flicking out to tease William’s opening.

“God!” William let out a keening shriek.

“Yes…I was your god---once upon a time.”

Pressing the tip of his finger to the tight pucker Angel sighed softly, watching as it slowly sank in. A whimper from above him drew his eyes back up to where Will’s head thrashed from side to side on the silken pillows.

“Want more me sweet boy?” Angel growled softly.

“Yes…” William gasped looking down into Angel’s dark eyes, “…want you so much it hurts.”

Gently Angel began pumping his finger in and out of the tight warmth that quivered and clenched around his finger. A tiny smile curled his lips as he crooked his finger, scraping the tip against that tiny spot he knew would seal the pact between them.

William howled as his hips jerked up, his thighs quivering. Panting he met Angel’s steady gaze with watery blue eyes. “What…what was that?”

Angel’s smile, widened. “Liked it did you my beautiful boy?”

“Ye…ye…yes…” William stuttered, his face flushed pink with a mix of shame and desire.

“Have I told you how beautiful you are like this? All spread out for me, your cheeks flushed?”

The color darkened in William’s cheeks as his lids lowered hiding the wide blue eyes. “Beau…beautiful?” He questioned softly.

“Always.” Angel smiled as he thrust his finger deeper again causing William to squirm. “Always beautiful and always mine.”

Silence slowly descended over the room as Angel slowly stretched William open, adding another finger, as he thrust into the warm oil slicked channel. There was nothing, but the soft whimpering of the boy, the distant sound of the storm beyond the heavy drapes, and the distinct feeling that he’d found home again. By the time he’d added a third finger William’s instinct had taken over, his ass pushing back against the invading fingers, and Angel smiled.

“More, baby?” Angel whispered softly.

A soft moan rose from the flushed body stretched out and glistening with a sheen of perspiration. At that all to familiar sound Angel pulled his fingers out and knelt up positioning himself so the swollen tip of his cock brushed William’s stretched opening. He smiled down, his hands curling around William’s ankles and guiding his legs up so they rested over his shoulders.

William looked up with terrified eyes, but the desire in their depths was far greater in its strength. “I want you.” Came the soft whisper. “I want you…inside me.”

Angel’s smile widened as he shifted closer and guided the head of his cock into the prepared opening, pink and glistening with oil. “As you wish me sweet boy.”

Slowly he pushed forward as William panted beneath him, his thighs quivering with the need to slam forward, and feel the warm slick tightness surround him. It had been so damn long since he’d felt like this. Like he was being consumed by the desire that burned in his loins, a fire so hot that he should be turned to ash in a heartbeat.

“Liam…” William whimpered as the head of Angel’s cock popped through.

“Hush…hush Will, my sweet boy. We can stop if you…”

“No!” William gasped, his ass pushing back, and his ankles locking behind Angel’s neck. “More! God please!”

Angel lowered his hands to William’s heaving belly, stroking gently as he thrust his hips slowly, working himself deeper, inch by sweet inch. “More for you baby. Just for you and no one else.” He caught himself panting in time with William’s shallow breaths. “You’re so damn tight…so damn warm…”

A soft whine erupted from William as Angel sank into him, stretching him, and filling him so deeply that he wondered how he’d survived without him all this time.

Hissing Angel stilled relishing the body that trembled beneath him and around him. “Blessed Mother…” he growled softly, “…feels so wonderful. God I did miss ye, Will.” Gently he pulled back, the feel of William’s internal muscles rippling along his throbbing erection.

William moaned as the fullness began to retreat making him feel empty and lost. His legs tightened and he let out a soft mewl of need as Angel looked down into his wet gaze. He wanted this boy so much, he’d wanted him from that moment on the beach when he’d looked into those same eyes. Those eyes that he knew belonged to a love he’d lost so many years ago. He’d known then even despite his confusion that his lover had returned to him by some wild twist of fate.

“Liam…” William whimpered, “…move…please. For God’s sake…”

Smiling Angel dipped his head, his gaze meeting William’s. “As ye wish me beautiful poet…”

With a quick jerk he slammed forward into the tight sheath of William’s ass, his balls slapping against the smooth pale skin. William’s back arched off the bed with the force of Angel’s thrust as he yowled, his fingers clawing madly at the sheets. Another cry escaped as Angel drew back, then angled his hips slightly to thrust forward into William’s tight channel, this time punching into his prostate.

“God! God, please!”

William’s screams just urged Angel on as he began pounding in and out faster. Head hanging down, chin resting on his chest, Angel watched with gold dusted eyes as his cock slid in and out of the writhing body beneath him. Just the sight was enough to make him lose control---lose control and forget. With an animal growl he grasped William’s calves pushing his legs back until the boy was almost folded in half. His thrusts becoming more manic with each cry and whimper that escaped the sweet body beneath him.

“Say it, Will!” Angel growled.

“Please…I…oh, God!”

Panting William looked up into demonic gold eyes that were filled with desire, need, and lust. He should have been frightened, he should have been a lot of things, but he wasn’t. All he could think was that Angel was an appropriate name for the creature that loomed above him, thrusting into him with a barely suppressed strength that he remembered from dreams and visions of the past.

“What…?” He whimpered.

“Tell…me…” Angel hissed between clenched teeth as he fucked his boy harder.

A sudden flash of an image fluttered through William’s mind.

***

A fireplace.

Furs thick and luxurious.

He was on his hands and knees, but it wasn’t him---it was Spike.

Gasping, grunting, the sounds of sweat slicked flesh slapping together echoed in the dark room.

Then there was his voice---commanding.

‘Tell me, Will.’

***

William’s eyes widened as his thoughts ripped from the past to the present. His mouth was dry with the stress of his heated cries, his body aching with the need for release, and the words just came unbidden.

“Fuck me…God taste me, sire!”

Rearing back Angel’s face shifted and rippled, then he slammed forward, his mouth dropping to William’s throat.

“As you wish little one.” He whispered into the sweat tangled curls. “As you wish…”

Pulling back, his hips still thrusting, Angel wrapped his fingers in William’s hair, tugging his head back and to the side. He licked along the pulsing vein, pale blue beneath the pure marble skin, then bit down.

A scream ripped from William’s throat as the sweet tang of blood coated Angel’s tongue and the warm splash of thick cum covered both their bellies. He drew deeper as William’s warm muscles tightened around his thrusting cock and for him that was it.

Heavenly bliss.

Pulling his mouth from William’s throat he roared, emptying his cold seed into the warmth of that sweet body. His muscles flexed, his body went taunt, and then he collapsed on top of William, the soft flutter of the boys heart pulling him down into sleep as his face shifted once more to human.

~Part: 9~

“I don’t like this.”

Harris brought the Blazer to screeching halt, mud splattering the windows only to be washed away almost immediately in the pounding rain. Next to him in the passenger seat Doyle lit another cigarette and wished with all his heart that he had a bottle of Bush Mills to ease the fear that was quickly rising in his gut. He couldn’t help to agree with Harris’ sentiment. Life was complicated enough knowing that monsters really existed, but now the monsters were coming to town, his town, and he didn’t like it at all.

“Have to agree with ya there, boyo.”

“Then why in the hell are we here?” Harris snapped as he turned off the engine.

Behind them Willow’s soft voice rose. “Because sometimes the monsters aren’t always fangy and all scaly.”

The two men turned studying the two women behind them with curious eyes. Tara was as close to Willow as she could get without actually sitting in her lap, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and concern.

“Cou…council…” she stuttered softly.

“Council?” Harris pushed a shaking hand through his still damp hair. “What the hell is the Council?”

“William’s father was a part of the Council as his family has been for centuries. They were the ones who trained the slayers…the ones who created them. At one time they could be trusted, but now…” Willow just let the insinuation hang in the chill air of the Blazer.

Doyle shook his head furiously as he inhaled, the glowing tip of his cigarette flickering gold across his face. “Angel told me he knew there were bad ones there. Said that this Rupert had been his contact there before his lover was murdered.”

“Spike.” Nodding Willow turned to stare out the rain streaked window. “Rupert adopted the baby that the slayer gave birth, too. He always knew there was something different…special…about the boy. His wife Jenny knew better than he did though. That’s why the Council had her killed.”

“Oh…hell…fucking…no!” Harris snapped pushing open the driver side door and slid out into the storm, slamming the door behind him.

Grabbing the door handle Doyle started after Harris, but was stopped by the gentle grip of slender fingers on his shoulder. Turning he looked into Tara’s wide eyes with a questioning glance.

“What is it lass? What is it that…” his voice trailed off as he looked from one to the other. “Sweet Mother of Jesus…Angel was right. This writer, your friend William, he’s the slayer’s kid, but he’s more now isn’t he?” Doyle’s face went pale as he crushed out the butt in the ashtray.

Willow nodded. “Yes, he is…he’s Spike reborn.”

“This is a bit on the crazy side---now isn’t it?” Hands shaking Doyle shook out another cigarette, lighting it up.

“Gypsy magic.” Willow whispered. “They were bound to one another…vampires both cursed with souls. One against his will, the other by choice. They served the Council for almost a hundred years until a rouge slayer broke that binding by killing Spike. It shouldn’t have happened, but it did and she cursed her unborn child by doing it.”

“Cursed?” Doyle’s dark brow rose as he exhaled a cloud of misty blue smoke. “And how did she do that, lass?”

“Like I said the binding magic should have never been broken. When she killed Angel’s lover the PTB were furious.”

Doyle sighed as he took another drag. “PTB? Do I need to even be asking now?”

“The Powers that Be.” Tara finally spoke. “They are the ones that control the fates of all beings. They are the light side of creation…what most of us consider…”

“God.” Doyle whispered.

***

The remainder of the drive had been silent both Rupert and Wesley lost in their own thoughts. Had Wesley known the thoughts that bounced around inside Rupert’s skull he might have taken his chances with the rain slicked highway and leapt from the car, but he had no idea they were close to his own.

William was his best friend and now he knew that not only that, but he was his brother as well. He’d always felt close to William yet he’d never imagined that this was the reason. He silently cursed his dead father, the father he’d never known, and he even cursed the man next to him. Almost thirty years Rupert Giles had kept this secret and Wesley was furious for never knowing that he had a brother. Especially now that his mother had passed, and he was married and expecting his first child. To him family was important, it always had been.

Turning his gaze from the window he studied Rupert’s tense profile letting out a soft sigh. He couldn’t stay angry with man that he’d considered a stand in father for all these years, no matter how hard he tried. Rupert had paid a high price to keep this secret---far too high.

As his gaze shifted back to the window he caught a glimpse of the exit sigh in the headlights.

Exit Finch’s Cove 2 Miles

He felt a tightness in his chest as Rupert pushed the car faster down the glistening highway. Something deep inside him told him that nothing would ever be the same again. That once he left Finch’s Cove, if he left at all, that his life would be changed irrevocably.

***

Despite the raging fury of the storm the heli-carrier moved quickly through its center carrying it’s precious load towards Finch’s Cove. Quentin Travers sat in the back listening as his PA give the soldiers the break- down of what awaited them in the small town. Smiling he thought of how easily the American’s had agreed to help.

The Council had known of the Initiative since their formation shortly before the Great War. There had been those within the Council that had been horrified to discover that the American’s had created such an organization, but there were those who had said to join them in an alliance would draw them into the twentieth century. Quentin Travers had been one of those at the time that had agreed that an alliance was for the best. It had been in the midst of the Cold War, the tumultuous sixties and he had been a young Watcher in training who had seen far too much of the secret world that mankind mainly ignored.

Now he was one of the old guard, one of those in power, and those who had fought the alliance were either dead or retired from service. A monster was a monster and the Initiative had been correct in their ideas for what to do. The monsters should be tamed, broken, and their power should be harnessed to use, not studied and recorded in dusty tomes.

The slayers were weapons that had been created to do just that. A grim frown creased Travers’ forehead as he thought of William Danridge, child of a slayer, the first of his kind. Despite Rupert’s denials Travers was posi- tive that there was power in the boy. A power that could be harnessed and used by the Council in the war against the monsters and he’d be damned if he would let Rupert get in the way of his plans.

“Sir?”

He glanced up at his PA, Paul. “Yes, son?”

“The others they wish to know what we are to do with Angel. Is he to be…terminated, sir?”

Travers chuckled. “Oh, dear god no. I have a thought that if William is to cooperate that we must keep that abomination alive.”

“Permission to speak freely, sir.”

“Granted.”

Paul’s dark eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as he gathered his thoughts. “He is an X-factor, sir. We can not be sure we can control him.”

Nodding Travers spoke. “You have a valid point, Paul. After all Angelus, as he was once known, is quite powerful and has a deceiving intelligence. He is most definitely an X-factor, but we have a secret weapon.”

“May I ask what, sir.”

Soft laughter erupted from the older man, a laughter edged with danger. “One word Paul…Darla.”

“Darla?” Paul frowned. “I had thought Darla dead at Angelus’ own hand.”

Fingers steepled beneath his chin, Travers nodded as he leaned back in his seat. “Very true, Paul. Angelus did murder his sire in Romania over a century ago. Of course we are the Council and we have connections.”

“Connections, sir?”

“That which once existed can often be brought back if the power is great enough. Let me just say that a certain demon owed the Council a favor.”

“Demon?”

“Yes, Paul. As you are aware the new regime is of the mind that the monsters should be utilized to destroy their own kind. Vocah, a warrior of the underworld, had a small problem that we helped him with. In exchange he raised a weapon for us---Angelus’ long dead sire.”

***

Doyle had slipped from the Blazer, the two witches close on his heels, heading to where Harris paced back and forth in the muddy, overgrown drive. As they got closer they could hear Harris mumbling beneath his breath.

“…vampires…jeez Louise…friggin’ vampires…”

Reaching out Willow grabbed Harris’ by the shoulder and he jumped, a look of confusion crossing his face for one moment. Taking a deep breath he stared into Willow’s eyes shaking his head.

“This is crazy.”

“Yeah, seeing that.” She smiled softly her hand drifting down to cup his hand. “I remember when I found out. It was weird…like the world had flipped upside down. All twisted up pretzel-style.” She turned his hand in hers, then dropped something cool and metallic in his damp palm.

“What?” Harris frowned.

“Faith…hope you got it. Cause thinking that faith is the best weapon you have.”

“Hey, sheriff here…big gun…all macho and shit.” He lifted his hand staring at the silver crucifix. “Bullets are good.”

Doyle chuckled. “Maybe for the human problems, but where we’re going, boyo…” his gaze drifted to the shadow of the Angel’s cottage looming ahead in the flashes of lightening, “…you’re gonna be needin’ the faith more.”

***

Drusilla sat on the bed, her legs crossed like a small child, as she looked over the collection spread out on the mattress. “Magic is strong…like tiny needles pricking at the skin of the world.” Her dark gaze lifted to where Darla stood staring out at the storm. “Tiny sharp daggers that…”

“Pierce the heart.” Darla’s hand drifted up to settle above her breast, the feel of her human heart, pounding beneath flesh and bone.  “Did you know, Drusilla?”

Blinking Drusilla stood and moved to where Darla stood, molding herself to Darla’s back, her chin resting on Darla’s trembling shoulder. “Daddy betrayed you for the little prince…” she whispered softly in a sing-song tone, “…pierced your heart, turned you to star dust. Master was angry tried to kill Daddy."

***

Madrid, Spain 1900

Two years of running and Angelus knew it wasn’t enough---it never would be.

“What’s wrong, pet?”

He glanced up from the book he’d been reading to meet William’s worried expression as he sat at the little writing desk by the window. Angelus sighed softly and set the book aside and stood striding across the bed- room to kneel at William’s feet. Taking his childe’s hands in his he squeezed gently.

“Sometimes I forget just how young ye still are, love. Can ye not feel it? The power?”

William’s eyes drifted shut as he turned his face to the window, moonlight dappling his loose curls with silvered highlights. “He’ll never let us be---will he?” His voice was soft and filled with pain. “You should have never killed his Darla. I wasn’t worth it…this running forever.” A single tear trailed down William’s face as he turned back to Angelus. “You should have let me die in that alley in London, then you’d still be happy.”

Growling Angelus pulled William into his arms. “I am happy me sweet poet. Ye are me life…the only thing that’s ever mattered. I got a soul for ye darling Will. Even in me human life I never knew this kind of happiness.” He showered soft kisses across William’s damp face. “Darla never understood what a special one you were. Always a jealous, spiteful, strumpet she was.”

“He’s coming…he’ll kill you, luv. I can’t imagine staying in this world without you…”

Angelus pulled William closer until the boy was in his lap, stroking his soft curls, and purring in his throat. “Ye won’t have to me sweet boy. If I have to I’d kill a thousand Masters to stay with ye.”

Laughing sadly William looked up into Angelus’ dark eyes. “But it’s only one you have to be worried about--- now isn’t it, pet?”

***

Angel extricated himself from the smooth warm limbs of his sleeping lover with a soft sigh. He could still taste the boy’s blood on his tongue, sweet and filled with a need that spoke volumes, and there was something more. There was a power in it, a magic that invigorated Angel’s preternatural body. Lifting one hand he traced his fingertips across William’s sharp cheekbone with a gentle touch. Beneath his caress William twitched, then sighed a tiny smile curling his lips.

“…sire…” he whispered in his sleep.

Smiling Angel stood and headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower. He was sure that Doyle would be back and it wouldn’t do to have him discover the both of them tangled in bed together. It would be bad enough explaining his actions face to face much less in bed naked with his lover.

***

Soaked to the bone Doyle and his companions mounted the porch. Lifting a fist Doyle knocked on the door waiting for Angel to answer.

“Don’t think he’s home. I mean all with the dark, no lights thing.” Harris paced the porch, his gaze darting back and forth.

Doyle snorted as he banged louder. “Vampire you doofus. He’s not much with the light…creature of the night and all.”

“Ha-fucking-ha, Irish. Just what I need a reminder that my world just did a one-eighty. So if he’s here then why ain’t he answering?”

Frowning Doyle fished his key ring out of his pocket and flipped keys until he located the spare key Angel had given him. “Probably upstairs in his studio.”

“Studio?” Harris pushed his soaked hair from his eyes.

“Aye, he’s an artist, and quite the talented one. Was in the public eye during the fifties until…” Doyle trailed off as the lock clicked, the door popping open.

“Until what?” Harris grabbed Doyle’s shoulder, pulling him around to face him.

“Until the Master tracked them down.”

Both men turned at Willow’s soft reply. She stood staring out at the storm drenched night, her arms crossed over her breasts, as Tara wrapped one arm around her trembling waist.

“Who the hell is the Master?!” Harris growled. “Cause not thinkin’ I’m gonna like the answer.”

Tara turned to face the two men, her eyes almost black in the darkness. “He was the leader of the Aurelius… Angel and Spike’s bloodline. It’s a long story and we haven’t got the time to get into it. All you need to know is that Angel killed him, when he came after them. He vowed to take from Angel what was most precious to him.”

Harris shook his head. “Great. So big deal  tall, dark, and gruesome took out the leader of his clan over what?”

“It was a big deal…as a matter of fact a huge deal. I’m telling you this so you will understand just how power- ful Angel is. The Master was almost two thousand years old and Angel wasn’t even two hundred. For a vampire he was barely past the fledgling stage. Angel is not a vampire to trifle with and the damn Council should know that better than anyone, but they’re obsessed with William, so obsessed they haven’t a clue what they’re about to do.” Willow sighed turning around and pushing past Harris. “He killed a master over his childe, over Spike.”

Without another word she stepped through the door and into the darkness.

***

Drusilla had been lost in her conversations with the stars for sometime now and Darla, frankly didn’t have the patience for it. As a matter of fact she never had, even when she had walked the earth as one of the Aurelius. Glancing over her shoulder at Drusilla she smiled, her blue eyes darkening with the evil that remained a part of her despite the fact she was human.

It was that evil that the Master had sensed in her all those years ago as she lay dying from syphilis. She’d never been anything but a conniving whore who had murdered her way to a life of luxury in the Virginia Colony. She’d came close to being burnt at the stake for witchcraft, but the town elders upon discovering she was dying from the unspeakable disease chose not to bring her to trial. In their eyes God had chose to punish the whore for her evil in his own way---a slow, painful death.

They hadn’t counted on the Master giving her his eternal kiss. Shortly after her death a plague had swept through the colony, a plague that wiped out all the children under ten years of age. Darla, as she had been renamed by the Master, had ultimately gotten her own revenge.

Slipping from Drusilla’s room she crept down the stairs, careful not to wake the sleeping customers in her little cover job. The Council had been quite through in their plan, placing her here almost five years ago as a young widow trying to reclaim her life after the death of her beloved husband and son. She had been welcom- ed with open arms into the small village and when she had announced her plans to open a bed and breakfast she had been backed by the village inhabitants. Little did the fools know that once she got what she wanted they would become fodder for the return of her mate.

Her dear boy.

Angelus.

Reaching her office downstairs she closed the door and retrieved the special cell phone from the safe. With a faint sigh she poured herself a glass of wine and settled into the chair in front of the fireplace, hitting speed dial. After two rings a voice answered, a voice filled with impatience and annoyance.

“What is it, Darla?”

A soft purr rumbled in Darla’s throat as she answered the demanding question. “Nice to speak with you as well Quentin. Yes, as a matter of fact I have had a rough day.”

“Enough with the sarcasm. I told you to only use this number in case of an emergency.”

Rolling her eyes Darla took a sip of her wine. “It is an emergency you damn fool. We have a problem. Where are you?”

“About thirty miles due south of Finch’s Cove. The storm is making progress difficult. Now exactly what problem is it you believe we have?”

“You’re too late…Angel has tasted him.”

***

“Sweet Goddess…” Willow whispered, tears welling in her eyes.

The others stumbled into the room behind Willow unsure what to make of those three simple words that she’d spoke. Nor could they quite figure out the tears that glistened in her eyes until they saw him.

A huge four-poster bed took up the better portion of the large room they had entered and it was there that they saw the source of her grief and fear. Sprawled on the richly colored bedding was a young man and despite the comforter giving him some modicum of decency it was obvious he was naked.

His pale limbs, well muscled yet slender seemed to glow in the dim firelight from the dying fire. One arm was flung out, his hand dangling over the mattress, the other was curled above his head, his face turned towards them. The flickering light only emphasized the beauty of his face with its sharp, high cheekbones, and his soft, sensual lips. His lashes lay dark, and wispy like silken strands of a spider’s web against his pale face.

“Will…” Willow whispered softly as she stepped carefully to the bed, “…we’re too late…sweet mother we’re too late.”

Doyle joined her by the bed his sharp blue eyes seeing what the others could not---a wound at his throat. The wound consisted of two deep punctures above his carotid artery, the flesh slightly puffy, and stained with dark crimson---a stain of blood. He sucked on air for a moment, thinking that this couldn’t be right. Angel or Liam as he’d known him for ten long years couldn’t have done this---he wouldn’t have.

“Lass you’re wrong…Liam…” he started his voice unsteady.

“He’s a friggin’ vampire!” Harris stepped around them, his eyes taking on the scene like the cop he was. “These wounds are exactly like the ones that were found on the murder victims in town.”

“I don’t care! Liam hasn’t drank human blood since he was transformed by the gypsies!” Doyle growled, his fingers running through his wet hair. “I trust him. Hell I trusted him with me own sister!”

Harris’ dark eyes narrowed. “Then you’re a damn fool, Irish!”

The two continued to bicker as Willow drifted closer to the bed, settling on the edge of the mattress, her trembl- ing hand lifting to caress William’s pale cheek. Tara moved to her lover’s side, her hand stroking through her scarlet hair in a soothing rhythm.

“I…I loved him. He was like a big brother…” Willow’s voice cracked, giving it the quality of a small child.

“He…he…he’s not dead.” Stuttering Tara stepped closer kneeling next to the bed. A tiny smile curled her mouth as she touched William’s chest above his heart.

Willow’s eyes grew wide with a mixture of relief and confusion. “But the marks…”

Suddenly William stirred with a soft moan, his eyes fluttering open to reveal sleep clouded sapphire. He licked his lips and blinked looking up at Willow and yawned softly. “Hey, Red…”

“Will?” She whispered softly unable to compute for a moment that her friend was alive.

A few more blinks and he stretched, his lean muscles rippling beneath pale skin. Without any warning his eyes went wide and he was sitting up scrambling for the covers, pulling them up to his chin. “What the bloody hell?!”

Willow surged forward wrapping her shaking arms around William’s neck. “You’re alive! He didn’t take you!”

Grasping her shoulders William pushed her back looking into her tear-filled eyes with concern. “What are you doing here, Red? Who in the bloody hell are all these people?” He waved his arm at the other three who stood silently in shock.

“They came to save you from the evil that lurks in every corner. Now didn’t you, love?”

The question was directed  at Willow who still clung to William, but five pairs of eyes turned to focus on the shadowy figure leaning in what was apparently the bathroom door. Mist from the shower drifted around the figure, the bathroom light surrounding it like a golden halo.

“Angelus.” Willow hissed, her eyes narrowing.

Stepping forward into the firelight he smiled a wicked, teasing smile. His dark gaze drifted from face to face finally settling on William’s only to soften with what could only be love. “Once upon a time I was. Now it’s just…”

“Angel.” William’s cheeks glowed with the same emotion that had warmed Angel’s eyes.

He started to move across the bed, but was drawn back by Willow’s firm grip. Turning he frowned at his friend hissing softly. “What?”

“He’s a vampire, Will.”

“I know that you silly bint.” William rolled his eyes at Willow with a smile. “How do you suppose I got these?” His hand lifted, fingers caressing the wound in his throat that had, even now in the few minutes that had passed, faded a bit. “Red it’s okay---I swear, luv. I wanted him, too.” He smiled his eyes twinkling with a spark Willow hadn’t seen in a very long time.

She let out a sound caught somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, then threw herself into William’s embrace. A few minutes passed, the only sound in the room, Willow’s soft crying and William’s attempts to ease her fear. His hand ran through her hair and down her spine over and over as he whispered nonsense sounds. Finally she pulled back her face glistening with the shimmer of tears.

“I thought I’d lost you…”

Shaking his head. “You didn’t, pet. I’d never leave my friends behind.” He cupped her cheek swiping at the tears with his thumb. “But I had to find myself.”

“Find yourself?” Doyle finally spoke up, his brow wrinkled in doubt. “Exactly what does that mean?”

Angel sat down on the rumpled sheets next to William, their fingers curling around one another though their eyes never met. “I told you, Doyle…I told you who he was and you didn’t believe.”

“Spike.” Doyle’s gaze shifted from where the two lover’s sat to where the portrait hung above the fire- place. “It’s really him then?”

“Yep, in all me Technicolor beauty you Irish twit.”

***

Quentin Travers leaned back in his seat, flipping the cell in his palm shut. He heaved a sigh of relief rather than of worry as Darla had thought he would. It was unexpected yes, but it was an extra benefit, that the vampire had tasted the boy. That meant they had broken the dams that had been forged by the Powers that Be and now the past had been revealed. Not only that, but the connection that Angel and William shared was being reformed in place of the dams. He refused to use the word ‘love’ for they had been nothing, but mongrel demons, theirs souls a leash that the Council had used to their advantage.

Demons could not love.

They killed, maimed, raped and pillaged, but love was beyond them. They were monsters and to see it any different was a fool’s vision. That was what Rupert Giles had never understood.

“Sir?”

He glanced up at Paul with a serious expression. “Yes?”

“We have an ETA on our arrival, sir. We’ll be putting down on Widow’s Walk outside Finch’s Cove in fifteen minutes.”

“Excellent.”

“Any last minute instructions for the men, sir?”

“Yes. Have Blue Team go to Wayside Inn. They are to contact the owner, a Darla Mackenzie and her mother Drusilla.” He smiled smugly. “The code word is Aurelius.”

Paul nodded sharply. “Is there anything else, sir?”

Reaching for his briefcase he removed two large manila envelopes. “One is to go to the team leader, the other to Ms. Mackenzie. That is all Paul.”

“Yes, sir.” He accepted the envelopes then disappeared into the cargo bay.

Standing Travers moved across the cabin and poured himself a glass of scotch from the mini-bar. With a faint sigh his gaze drifted to the cabin window where rain fanned against the dark glass. His reflection stared back at him, distorted and dark, as he swirled the scotch in the glass, and then he lifted the glass to his lips. Taking a healthy swallow his eyes drifted shut as the burn of the liquor trailed down his throat.

“It’s been a long time, Angelus, but the Council will have what it wants.” He whispered softly to his reflection as his eyes drifted back open. “Two birds with one stone---the ultimate killer and the first child born of a slayer. What an exquisite team the two of you shall make. Soon the Council will possess the power it has sought. No one will defy us.”

~Part: 10~

Paris, France 1953

Angel stood staring out the window of his hotel suite, the shimmer of lights along the Champs-Elyss mesmerizing him. He knew it was dangerous returning to Europe, but William had convinced him to do what he loved and painting was his passion. It had been the passion that had alienated him from his father in the beginning. He could almost hear the old man’s voice now, brusque and dismissive, in his head.

Painting, he’d been told, was not an appropriate career for a man. It was nothing, but a past time for layabouts who wished not to soil their hands with true work.

He was shocked from his sad memories by slender arms encircling his waist, and a pair of pale hands folding over the black satin of his cummerbund. “What are you thinkin’ about, luv.”

He chuckled softly as he folded his hands over the ones at his waist. “I’m thinkin’ I was a fool to do this. I’m thinkin’ that he’ll find us finally and end this peace we’ve found.” Angel turned around in the slim arms, his dark eyes focusing on his lover’s beautiful face. “I’m thinkin’ I’ll lose you…me beautiful boy.”

William smiled up at Angel, his cobalt eyes twinkling with mischief. “I’m thinkin’ that if ol’ bat-face was gonna come for us, he would have bloody well done it by now.”

A frown creased Angel’s brow as he studied his childe with a critical gaze. “What did you do to your hair, Will?”

Reaching into his jacket pocket William snorted. “Told ya, pet…name’s Spike now. ‘Sides I needed a new look for the new name. Don’t think it’s so bad.” He ran one hand over his hair as he pulled his smokes out with the other.

“It’s…well it’s…black.” A faint shudder ran through Angel as he reached up to touch William’s sleek hair.

“Well…yeah it is, you wanker.”

Angel pruned his face. “It’s too damn dark, Will. And your beautiful curls…” a soft sadness flickered across his dark eyes, “…they’re all gone.”

***

The group sat around the roaring fire in the parlor, their eyes, as well as their minds not quite believing.

Angel or Liam, as Doyle preferred to call him, sat in a huge old Victorian wing backed chair upholstered in a deep forest green. His dark gaze was focused on the flickering flames that licked in curls around the blackening logs lost in thought to the casual eye.

Of course, Doyle knew better.

He watched with narrowed eyes as Angel’s slender fingers caressed through William Danridge’s tousled curls as he sat at Angel’s feet, his knees drawn up, and a contented expression on his seemingly innocent face. It was something he’d only seen once in his life, this contented bliss. His parents had possessed it in their casual moments and it was a beautiful thing to witness in a world filled with such malice and hate.

Love.

There was so little of it, he thought, as he lit another cigarette, inhaling deeply. It saddened him to think that these two people, one who the world would consider a monster, possessed something so few humans did.

“So it’s true---now is it?” Doyle spoke softly. “I’d thought you quite daft when you even suggested it before. Of course when you told me you were a vampire I thought the same.”

A soft chuckle escaped Angel as his dark gaze shifted from the fire to Doyle’s thoughtful expression. “Aye, that you did. Thought you’d pissed your pants when I finally showed you me game face.”

“So you’ve know all these years that he was a vampire? And when were you thinking you might share this information, Irish?” Harris still paced, unable to relax despite the calm acceptance of the others. “After all we’ve been friends since high school and ‘Hey, sheriff here’.”

Doyle exhaled staring up into the shadows that clung to the high ceiling, watching as the wisps of smoke dissipated. “I wasn’t, boyo. I made Liam here a promise and I was raised to keep me promises.”

Inhaling with a harsh hiss Harris moved to Doyle’s side, his dark eyes flashing with fury. “Even though we have three dead bodies sitting in the county morgue that scream ‘vampire attack’ you didn’t think to share? That’s just fucking fantastic dip-shit!”

“Three bodies?” Angel’s gaze shifted to the furious sheriff, then back to Doyle. “What the hell is he talking about?”

Advancing on Angel, Harris growled. “Yeah, three innocent victims, drained of blood. So, Mr. ‘I’m a big, broody, vampire’ care to explain that one?”

William stood getting between the two men as Angel’s eyes flickered with gold. “Look Harris it wasn’t him.”

“Oh, really.” Harris snorted as his eyes focused on the healing wound in William’s throat.

“This…” William’s fingers caressed the wound, “…was mutual you bleedin’ wanker!”

Harris gritted his teeth. “You sure about that?”

Growling Angel moved closer to William, one hand curling protectively around his shoulders.

“As damned sure as I am that if you don’t soddin’ well back off you’re going to get me foot in your arse!”

“Is that a fact?!”

“Damn straight!”

“STOP!”

The four men turned at the angry outburst expecting Willow, but found Tara standing, her eyes flashing with a hint of her power. All four took a step back, including Angel who wasn’t easily cowed.

Willow stood from her seat and wrapped her arms around Tara’s waist, her chin resting on her shoulder, and her green eyes sparkling. “I suggest you do what my girl said or you might not like what happens. She might be quiet, even shy, but she doesn’t much like all the fussing over nothing at all.”

“Nothing…” Harris started.

Doyle grabbed his arm and hissed softly. “I’d do as the lass asks Alexander.”

A few seconds ticked by as Harris contemplated letting it go. Doyle held his breath feeling like he was in the midst of the showdown at the O.K. Corral---mystic style. Finally, Harris’ shoulders slumped as he ran his hand through his damp hair.

“Fine. So if it’s not him,” he glared at Angel, “…then who the hell is it?”

***

Darla was on her third glass of wine when the buzzer at the front door went off. Glancing up at the clock above the mantle piece, she frowned. It couldn’t be Travers, she thought, as she stood sitting the book she’d been reading to the side. They’d only spoken twenty minutes before and he’d have notified her if he’d landed yet.

Moving into the front hall cautiously, she flicked on the overhead light. Beyond the lace curtains, that covered the window in the front door, she could see the move- ment of two figures on the porch. Customers, she reasoned, as she headed to the door. After all the storm was quite furious and it wasn’t unheard of for travelers to seek shelter, it had happened often enough over the last four years.

With a put upon sigh Darla flicked on the overhead porch light and unlocked the door, opening it. Outside an older man stood, his glasses misted with rain, and a younger man stood behind him, hefting two large bags.

“Yes? Can I help you?”

Rupert Giles met Darla’s gaze and for a moment said nothing, then found his tongue. “Ummm…yes. I do apologize for the late hour, but my son and I were caught in the storm. Do you perhaps have a room available?”

Raising a brow at the expression she’d seen flicker through the strangers eyes, she smiled. “Yes, we do.” She stepped aside allowing the two men to come in from the storm. “You’re lucky we have one vacancy.” Closing the door she slid the lock and stepped around the men. “A young couple and their daughter were unable to make it in because of the storm. It’s a two- room suite connected by a bathroom. One bedroom is smaller than the other is of course. I hope you don’t mind.”

“No…no, of course not Miss…?”

“Mackenzie. Darla Mackenzie, I’m the proprietor here. And you are?” She pursed her lips as she moved around the front desk.

“Rupert…Rupert Wainscot and this is my son…”

“Wesley.”

Darla met the younger man’s sharp sapphire gaze and a chill coursed through her. That gaze reminded her of someone else, William. Her darling boy’s whore of a lover all those years ago, but there was something else there as well---anger.

“Well…” she cleared her throat shaking her thoughts away, “…it’s nice to meet you Rupert. The suite is two hundred a night---I hope that’s okay?”

“Excellent Ms. Mackenzie.” Rupert glanced up from cleaning his glasses and slipped them on. Reaching into a side pocket of the traveling bag over his shoulder he withdrew his wallet and counted out two hundred in fifties. “We really do appreciate this.” He held out the cash with a small smile.

As their fingers grazed an electric shock moved between them and Darla suddenly knew for sure what she had suspected since opening the door. These men were not who they presented themselves to be a simple father and son, they both reeked of magic, especially the older one.

Handing over the keys to the suite Darla smiled. “I’m sorry, but my helper is gone for the night. I hope you don’t mind carrying your own luggage.”

“Not at all.” Rupert smiled back, the smile not quite reaching his eyes.

“Good then. The suite is straight up the stairs and down the hall to your left. It’s called the French Suite.” “Very good. Shall we go Wesley?” Rupert turned to the silent younger man.

Flashing a quick glance at Darla, he nodded. “Of course, father.”

***

Darla watched with narrowed eyes as the two men disappeared up the staircase, then turned away heading into the office. Going towards the safe, she was startled by a flicker of movement to her right.

“Sweet Jesus!” She yelped as she steadied herself on the desk. “What the hell are you doing down here?”

Stepping from the shadows, Drusilla gazed at Darla with golden eyes, her tongue flicking out across her lips. A small frown was apparent on her face despite the bony ridges along her forehead. “They taste of star dust.” Her voice was soft. “Grand-mummy, do you suppose I could have a taste?”

“Not yet Dru dear. I need to talk to Travers first.” She retrieved the phone and flipped it open.

“Oh, goody…” Drusilla clapped her hands like a delighted child, “…is Uncle Quentin coming for a visit? I do so like him. He smells of bittersweet and darkness. He promised Dolly and I that we could have daddy back if we played nice.”

Hitting speed dial Darla’s gaze never left Drusilla as she wandered to the office door. Her long skirt swished along the floor as she danced and swayed to an aria only she could hear.

“Watcher…watcher…who has the watcher.” Dru sang softly, her voice edged with laughter. “Tell Uncle Quentin that my prince’s daddy has come. He tastes of star dust.” She paused, her face shifting back to its human appearance as she turned to Darla, clapping again. “Oh, it’s so exciting! He’s brought my prince his little brother.”

Frowning Darla listened as the line was picked up. Before Travers could reply, she spoke. “We have two more problems by the name of Rupert and Wesley.”

***

Upstairs in the French Suite Wesley dropped the bags on the hardwood floor with a grunt. “That was---bizarre to say the least. Was that who I think it…”

Rupert silenced Wes with a wave of his hand as he sat his own bag on the end of the bed. Watching with a curious expression Wes lay his coat over the back of a chair. A few moments later Rupert pulled out an odd looking crystal talisman and he nodded thoughtfully as he wandered back to the suite door. Hanging the talisman on the coat hook mounted on the door Rupert reached inside his coat pocket and removed a vial of oil.

Moistening his fingertips with the oil he began with a smear to the crystal then began walking clockwise around the perimeter of the room. Every few seconds he’d place a smear of oil on the wall and mutter something softly until he’d walked the entire room and was back at the talisman. Another quick smear of oil to the stone and a soft whispered word, then a ripple of energy washed through the room sending the hairs along Wesley’s arms dancing upward.

“What the hell was that may I ask?” His wide blue eyes focused on Rupert’s amused expression.

“A Rathbonai security spell. It keeps everything and I do mean everything outside this ring from eavesdropping. That includes any type of electronic surveillance, or any preternatural senses. What we say here, stays here.”

“Ahhh…well then may I ask…”

“Yes, that was Darla.” Rupert answered before the question was finished. “Though I’m not sure exactly how it could be. After all Angelus destroyed her well over a hundred years ago. Plus the fact that she is very human.”

Wes pulled off his damp sweater tossing it over his coat and walked to the fireplace, kneeling down and beginning a fire. “So if it is her as you assume, and she’s human, who would have the kind of power it would take to raise her?”

“Good question. There is something else to consider also. Whatever would possess someone to raise her? Angelus might have well been the Scourge of Europe, but she was his creator. He learned his brutality at her knee as a good vampire childe does.” Giles began to unpack his bag. “There must be a purpose, but to what end?”

As the fire caught, Wes stared into the growing flames his hands rubbing together for warmth. “She was his lover---correct? His lover for how long? One hundred years or so? Perhaps the person in question believes they can use Darla to manipulate Angelus.”

“But that is absurd. Angelus murdered Darla over the ensoulment of his childe William. How would returning her help to manipulate him?”

Standing Wes turned his eyes cold. “The more ammuni- tion the better---perhaps? Angelus has a soul now and he did not when he killed Darla. Perhaps they believe he will feel remorse for killing his sire. Perhaps pre- senting her to him as a human is a way of distracting him from William?”

Rupert frowned. “I am still not seeing Angelus turning against William. I may not like the idea that my son is his reincarnated lover, but I do know that Spike’s death almost destroyed Angelus. It took the Council nearly a decade to find him. The passion he feels for his childe-- -his former childe---runs deep. They were soul mates of the highest order. The Calderash magic only reinforced that bond.” Tears glimmered in his eyes as his thoughts drifted to Jenny.

Pacing in front of the growing fire Wes chewed his lip thoughtfully. There had to be a logical reason for the insanity of resurrecting a former vampire. The idea of ammunition was correct, he knew that, but in what capacity?

“Full circle.” He finally whispered.

“Full circle?” Rupert walked to the bar across the room, retrieving a bottle of scotch and two glasses. “Whatever are you talking about?”

“Just think about this. Angelus killed the Master. The Council has a full account of what happened in 1953.It was witnessed by Robert Laclede, the watcher assigned to Bethany the slayer who rose in Paris in 1949. Angel- us blamed the Master for everything, even Darla’s ultimate death at his hands. Laclede actually wrote that…”

Giles eyes widened. “…in my professional opinion if Angelus were to be given a chance to save Darla from the Master he most definitely would do so. He cared deeply for Darla, but her own demonic nature event- ually tore them apart. Having been a courtesan in her human life Darla had never had a companion of her own. Thus when she created Angelus she was unprepared to share him with anyone---even his own childer.”

“Exactly.” Wes’ accepted the glass of scotch Rupert handed him. “So what better way to confuse the issue than by resurrecting Darla, whom Angelus did care for, then threaten to take her human life?”

“Change her?” Rupert took a sip of thoughtfully. “That would definitely be a twisted piece of work.”

“Then you give him a choice.” Wes answered, taking a deep swallow of scotch.

“A choice?” Rupert raised one brow.

Slamming his glass down on the mantle Wes turned to look Rupert in the eye. “Save Darla or…”

“William.” Rupert shuddered.

*** Angel turned his back walking to the window and staring out at the darkness. “Another vampire?” He whispered softly as William wrapped his arms around his waist. “Why would another vampire be here?”

“I’m guessing here, but perhaps to turn William.” Willow sighed softly. “After all what better weapon to have than a slayer’s child turned?”

His grip tightening around Angel’s waist, William felt his lover’s body go tense. The idea of being turned wasn’t that bad, he thought. In fact now that he’d realized who he was, he desired it, but only if it were Angel.

“No.” Angel turned in William’s arms, one hand lifting to stroke through his tousled curls. “I won’t allow that. I will not lose him now that I’ve finally found him again.”

“You might not have a choice, boyo.” Doyle spoke up from his place in front of the fire. “From what the lasses here have told me, the Council wants William, and they’re willing to do anything to get him.”

“Well they can sod off!” William snapped. “I’m not some toy to be played with.”

“That might be true, Will, but they don’t give a damn one way or another.” Willow ran a hand through her hair in frustration. “Why do you think your dad kept you as far as he could away from him? He knew there were people on the Council who would use you. They’re convinced that you have power and a great deal of it.”

William snorted. “I’m a bleedin’ romance novelist for God’s sake. I write that’s what I do and if it weren’t for Faith’s insistence that I needed to ‘spread my wings’ I wouldn’t have been here in the first soddin’ place.”

“Faith? She wanted you to come here?” Tara piped up, her voice trembling. “Why?”

Leaning closer into Angel, he smiled. “Thought she had a right lovely idea for a book. The perfect, true life romance---mysterious painter, Paris, and a traumatic fire that sent him into hiding. Don’t know if she’d been so hyped about sending me if she’d known said painter and I would’ve end up in bed together.”

“How’d she come up with the idea?” Doyle asked as he moved away from the fire. “I mean Angel hadn’t been in the spotlight for over fifty years. His paintings are rarely seen and what few folks are aware of him are more of the underground type. He’d not been in the spotlight, but a couple of years when the whole Paris thing blew up in his face.”

William shook his head in amusement. “Some friend of a friend she met over the holidays at a party. He said that he remembered his mum and dad taking him to see Angel’s work when he was small. Said he tried to get his hands on one of his pieces, but it was impossible. The few that survived the fire in 1953 were owned by collectors that had no desire to part with them.”

Crossing her arms over her chest Willow shivered as she tried not to think what she was. Faith was her friend as well as Will’s and she had no doubt she would never betray them. Of course, Faith was a hard ass when it came to making money, and getting her way. If what Will said was true this fiasco had been in the making for months, possibly years.

“Do you remember this man’s name?” She asked Will softly.

“Ummm…not sure. Started with a ‘T’ was an English- man she said. Quite the gentleman from what she said. I think it was Triver or Triser…”

“Travers?” Tara questioned.

William glanced up with sparkling eyes. “Yeah, that’s right, pet. Travers was his name.” He glanced up at Angel as his body stiffened once more. “What is it, luv?”

“Quentin Travers.” Angel hissed. “That rotten son of a bitch…”

Taking a step back, William frowned looking into Angel’s dark eyes. “You know this bloke? Who the hell is he?”

“He’s a watcher…one of the group who rose up against the old order. They thought that the Council was outdated in their way of dealing with the ‘monsters’.”

“So you’ve met Travers?” Tara raised a brow glancing at Willow from the corner of her eye.

Angel growled low in his throat. “Yes…I did. In 1968, in Vienna. He approached me about joining forces with a group called the Initiative.”

“The Initiative?” Harris chewed his lip, lost in thought. “Aren’t they part of the Special Forces or something?”

“Or something is more like it.” Angel looked up at the young man. “They were created right before WWII by the State Department. Apparently during WWI it came to the attention of certain officers that what would become know as the Axis forces were using magicks and other ‘preternatural’ things as possible weapons to take down the United States.” He sighed as he began to pace the room. “They are an organized, deadly, military based operation that the President isn’t even aware of.”

“Geez…can the shit get any deeper?” Harris moaned. “Now we’ve got the monster squad after us?”

“If Travers has linked up with the Initiative we’re in more than deep shit. We’re fucked royally.” Angel gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing gold.

Outside a sudden roar passed over the house at Angel’s words. The group glanced at each other, then followed Angel as he ran to the front door, flinging it open. He ran across the porch and out into the storm as the wind kicked up, wet leaves swirling in the night air.

Above them a black heli-carrier swooped through the storm, followed by two smaller choppers. There were no lights or markings on the outside to identify them as they swept over the tree line and disappeared into the darkness. A flash of lightening lit up the sky as Angel turned to find William behind him, standing in the pouring rain, and four pairs of eyes staring from the steps.

“What the bloody hell was that?” William yelled over the rising wind, his eyes wide with fear.

“That was the bastards who think that you belong to them.” Angel hissed. “And they have another think coming.” Turning Angel stormed back into the house grumbling beneath his breath. “They want a war, then it’s a damn war they’ll have.”

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