Pairing: A/S, of course.
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Early Season 4; post 'Initiative'.
Disclaimers: I own nothing; all belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy, Inc. (Lucky bastards!)
Feedback: begs, pleads, and begs some more.
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~Part: 2~
Angel slowly rocked back and forth on the bathroom floor holding the lifeless unconscious body of this childe. Despair and anguish plagued the dark haired vampire as he thought of the torment and torture his childe had endured. Those feelings of despair quickly turned to an irrepressible anger boiling just underneath the surface.
<Pay! Whoever did this will pay at my hands! I swear to you, Will, they won't hurt you again.>
Angel quickly realized that his childe was no longer safe in Sunnydale. Ironically, Angel thought, it was the town that wasn't safe from Spike mere days ago. But whatever had happened to the younger vampire had somehow changed the fabric of life forever. Angel immediately knew what had to be done.
He tenderly gathered Spike into his embrace and exited the bathroom. Stalking down the hall, he met the confused stares of the only people who had gotten close to him in over a century, the Scoobies. Angel, in his present state of mind, could not even realize that in the room stood the love of his unlife…one of the loves. The other was unconscious and cradled in his arms. The realization hit the dark vampire like a bolt of lightening. Feelings that had been suppressed for a century suddenly came rushing to the forefront again. Yes, he loved Buffy with all that was in him, but there was another.
Xander hesitantly stepped forward with the brown bag filled with blood Angel had demanded he get. The dark vampire shuffled his light load and grabbed the bag without a second glance. He strode toward the oak door leading outside the watcher's apartment complex.
"Angel…" Buffy asked questioningly.
Angel emitted and animalistic growl and strode out the door not giving a parting glance to the awestruck group of people left standing in the room.
The dark vampire deposited his childe tenderly into the back seat of the convertible and drove away. He made his way to the one place that he hoped never to return to. The convertible seemed to drive itself as Angel saw the familiar surroundings of Crawford Street. Before leaving Sunnydale, Angel had found a caretaker that was paid to make sure the mansion was inhabitable in the event that he ever needed to stay on the Hellmouth. With trepidation, he parked the car and hoisted carefully Spike into his arms.
Memories flooded the older vampire's mind when he entered the mansion. The return of Angelus, returning from Hell and the treatment his blonde childe had received from his evil alter ego. When Angelus had returned, Spike welcomed his sire back into the fold, never dreaming that Angelus would take such pleasure in belittling, abusing and torturing him. Angel grimaced at the thoughts racing through his mind. He pushed them away and concentrated on the listless frame hanging in his embrace. The souled vampire glanced quickly around the great room at least pleased to notice that the caretaker had heeded his instructions. The furniture was covered in sheets, but the place was remarkably nearly dust-free and clean. Angel hurried toward the couch and deposited his blonde childe easily on the sheet covering the leather couch.
The dark vampire quickly went to the bedroom and prepared the bed. Blood red silk sheets graced the surface as Angel smoothed down the comforter. He retrieved his burden from the living room and softly laid Spike on the bed. Angel deftly removed the blonde's clothes wincing at each battered inch of skin that was revealed. True, Angel's blood had advanced the healing process, but after a beating as severe as Spike's was it would take longer than usual to heal. Angel pulled the sheet up across Spike's lean abdomen. He stared at the pale face of his childe, translucent against the dark fabric covering the bed. Sharp, angular cheekbones stood out against soft, pink lips. Impossibly long lashes covering the startling blue eyes Angel had memorized centuries before.
Of all of Angelus' conquests, William had been the one that tortured him the most when his soul was returned. Drusilla was destined to be cloaked with madness. His sire, Darla, would have succumbed to the syphilis that would have killed her mortal body. Penn would've ended up dead in an altercation caused by his sharp tongue, but William…William was destined for greatness. He actually had a future. He had a family who loved him; he had friends who appreciated him. Not those bastards that had made fun of him the inevitable night that Angelus turned him, but true people who cared for him. He was intelligent and bright. William had the whole world before him until Angelus turned him into a monster.
Angel sighed heavily and stood quickly, removing his clothes. He gingerly slid into the bed beside his childe and gathered the limp form against him tightly. Effortlessly, Angel bit into his wrist and brought it to Spike's pale lips. The dark Sire was pleased to see Spike begin to drawl out the healing elixir without any resistance. Angel closed his eyes as Spike surrendered once again to the veil of darkness.
<What to do now?> was the vampire's last conscious thought before he drifted into a restless sleep.
~~~*~~~
<Soddin' hell!> Spike thought as the drummer's took up a violent rhythm inside his head. <What the fuck is goin' on?>
The blonde cautiously squinted open one eye to survey his surroundings. Both blue eyes snapped open when he recognized where he was. <FUCK!> he thought as he ran his hands through his platinum locks.
<Where is the first place you crawl off to when
you're beaten down? Back to your bleedin' house of horrors!>
Spike eased himself up until he was sitting upright. Truly disgusted with himself that he ran back to the mansion, just to be close to what was left of his Sire. He didn't even remember how he got here. His last memory was knocking on the Watcher's door, everything after that kind of fades to black. Spike glanced down at his body, first of all shocked that he seemed to be naked beneath the crimson sheet. Secondly, shocked to see the fading bruises and cuts littering his torso and arms. He felt the swelling in his face and the tenderness around his right eye. His left hand revealed two fingers that were black but bandaged. BANDAGED!?!
<What the hell?>
Spike heard a noise coming from the direction of the great room. He jumped to his feet wincing as the pain in his head multiplied tenfold. His body protesting loudly to the sudden movements.
"Fuckin' kill me now!" Spike shouted as he saw his sire's hulking frame standing in the doorway of the room. Angel didn't move, just stared at his wayward childe with hooded eyes.
"You're up. How are you feeling?" Angel said cautiously.
"Like a bleedin' band is beating in me head and somebody used me for a fuckin' punching bag." Spike gritted out vehemently. Both men didn't move just stared at each other.
"I brought you some…" Angel began holding out a mug of warmed blood. He slowly approached the blonde until he stood directly in front of his childe.
Spike grabbed the mug and hungrily thew back the contents. A look of pure disgust crossed his face as he glared at his sire.
"Soddin' animal blood! That shit is awful." Spike swiped at his mouth hoping to rid himself of the offending drink.
"Sorry. All I had." Angel said cryptically. He continued to stare at the enraged demon in front of him.
"How'd I get 'ere?" Spike questioned.
"Buffy called me."
"Fuckin' Slayer. It's all her fault. If I hadn't come back to kill her, none of this would've happened." Spike paced back and forth in front of the bed. His anger evident in his tense frame and clenched hands.
"What wouldn't have happened?" the dark vampire asked excusing the derogatory remark made against his former love.
Spike stared incredibly at his huge sire. Angel wondered what he had said making his childe look at him as if he suggested a holy water bath.
"Why the fuck do you care?" Spike spat. "Just trot on back to LA and leave me the hell alone."
"No."
"WHAT did you say? Listen, you poof, I'm not one of your 'helpless' to help. So, SOD OFF." Spike yelled stalking around the room looking for any form of clothing to cover his nakedness. Finding nothing, he forcefully grabbed the sheet off the bed wrapping it around his waist.
"Will…"
"DON'T FUCKIN' CALL ME THAT!" Spike screamed wincing as his head began to pound louder. "Will doesn't exist anymore. He hasn't existed in a fuckin' century."
Angel stalked toward the blonde until they were nose to nose. "I'm still your Sire, boy. Show me some respect." Angel seethed channeling his inner demon. This wasn't what he wanted to happen. Sure, he expected resistance, but he didn't expect to pull out the Sire card this early.
"SIRE…SIRE! HA, bloody HA!" Spike's voice rising impossibly loud echoing through the room. "I don't have a Sire! My 'Sire' found himself a soul and abandoned us 100 years ago."
Angel growled at the blatant display of disrespect but primarily because the truth his childe spoke cut like a knife. The dark vampire glared at stormy blue eyes.
"Don't push me, William."
Spike took one long finger and pushed against the huge frame in front of him. A sardonic smile lighting up the blonde's face. Angel quickly delivered a quick punch to his childe's already battered face and Spike crumpled to the floor.
"Shit!" Angel mumbled as he stooped to stare at Spike's once again unconscious frame. The last thing he wanted to do was resort to violence after what Spike had already been through. Angel shook his head slightly at how easily provoked Spike could cause him to become. Without hesitation, Angel raced into the bedroom to retrieve a trunk from the deep recesses of the closet. Flinging open the lid, he was hit with painful memories as he stared at the contents. Manacles, whips, riding crop. <All of Angelus' favorite toys.> the dark vampire thought disgustedly. He quickly took a length of rope from the bottom of the trunk and returned to the limp body on the living room floor.
"Sorry, Will. Didn't want it to start out this way," he said to the unconscious form as he bound his arms and legs tightly. Slinging his childe over his shoulder, he glanced around to make sure everything was in order and left the mansion without looking back. He unceremoniously dumped his childe into the backseat and slid into the driver's seat. The convertible roared to life and flew down the streets of Sunnydale. The passing of the 'Now Leaving Sunnydale' sign caused one thought to materialize to the dark vampire.
<What the fuck have I gotten myself into?>