<> and ** are thoughts and/or emphasis..the story
makes which obvious. I hope.

Distribution: Just let me know where its going first, please. Archive away.
Feedback: Please feed my fameslut demon. It gives her a happy.
 
 

Ronin: Within You Part 5
 

London, Eighteenth Century

Angelus was watching the boy again. It had become his new preoccupation. The
first time he saw him he was attracted. Perhaps that was an inaccurate choice
of terminology, since it was moreso the way a human man might be attracted to
a good steak. He had thought to eat him then. Wasn't going to bother with
fucking the chit even; Angelus wasn't much for sloppy seconds. Or in this
youths case, perhaps hundredths....The boy was a street whore, hovering by
the soft glow of the taverns every night, willing to go home with anyone who
would offer a warm bed or meal, no matter how brief the respite. Pitiful
really. That is, if Angelus had such an emotion in his repertoire. He did
not. He looked at the dirty, abused body of the child and saw...dinner.

<<Im sorry.. Im sorry...Im so sorry...>>

** Dont worry 'bout it. Wasn't really my best look, pet.**

Until Angelus approached him, and reached out a single hand to touch the thin
shoulder. The desolation, the misery that flew threw that touch like
lightening forever altered both their destinies. This boy **wanted** to die.
Well. Damn. That was no sport. It would be akin to doing a good deed. Angelus
walked away, enraged. He raped and fed on four slim, brown haired young men
that night. Then he made his decision.

The wretch wanted death to forget. Instead, he would give him life eternal to
remember. Seemed like a fitting torture for spoiling his appetite.

**Oh yea, thats a good one to guilt over. Cause my alternatives were soooo
much more enchanting**

He bid himself to wait until the boys body had matured into the form he would
find more pleasing. So, for the next year he watched William, as he soon
learned was his name. He studied this boy who had thwarted his hunger and in
so doing, had become his obsession. He would follow as William would
accompany some well bred gentleman to a squalid inn. He would watch in the
shadows as the customer would have his way with the boy. It was several
months before anyone made the connection. After bedding this street urchin,
men were often found viciously and mysteriously murdered the next day. If
they were found at all. Soon, William was unable to find a benefactor willing
to sacrifce his safety for the sake of carnal appetite.

Which was more pathetic...begging for food, thieving or whoring? It was
winter now, and Angelus watched William sift through heaps of trash for
scraps of a meal. The thought occured to the vampire that if he still ate
food, and had but one loaf of bread....he would gnaw on it while he beheld
this pitiful scene, because really, **that** would make it the consummate
show.

<<That wasn't me...It wasn't me....>>

**Wasn't me either, ya nonce. Now get down off the cross. All that wood you're
wasting up there. Would be so much more convenient to just stake you with it,
and put me out of your bleedin misery.**

It was Christmas Eve when Angelus decided finally that he had had enough
foreplay. Willaim wasn't getting enough to eat to add much more brawn to his frame. And
he could sense that the wretched creature was near ready to off himself. That
simply would not do. That was a pleasure Angelus had reserved for himself.

"Boy!" William turned toward the harsh voice, startled. It had been weeks
since anyone had addressed him at all. Angelus said no more, merely pulled
his wallet out of his high priced pants, and waved it in the youths general
direction. Then he proceeded to walk toward an Inn on the more expensive side
of town. He smirked when William followed, wordless, an eager puppy.

The room was purposefully dark, and Angelus purposefully silent. He could
smell the boys fear even over the vile smell of the boy himself. First thing
he was going to do to this pet once he turned him was dunk him under soapy
water for at least an hour. *Then* he'd fuck him blind. He grinned a bit as he
watched William begin to remove the rags which passed for his clothing.

"What do you think you're doing, boy?" Angelus asked, his contempt obvious.

Angelus wasn't certain if it was Willaim's tone of voice or the answer itself
which startled him. "Im stripping", he said simply. Then, "That is why
we're here, isn't it, pet? I know what it is that men like you want."

What balls! Angelus was stunned. Did the little cocksucker just call *him*
pet? Angelus laughed, a noise wholly without mirth. The sound crept up
William's spine like the cockroaches he shared a nightly mat with, and he
found himself recoiling instinctively. The tall, dark haired man was coming
closer to him now, and even in the blackness of the room, he could see that
there was something ...not...right...

<<gods, Will, you should have run...why didn't you run?>>

**Cause I didn't want to die tired. Would you shut up now? Christsakes...**

"My dear", the stranger in the hotel room began, the words dripping like
molasses from his tongue, "you have not the faintest idea what it is that
men like *me* want."

<>

**Why the hell not Angelus? This movies finally gettin to the good part**

The death embrace was much like this one, although it was preluded by a brief
and laughably lopsided battle. Angelus was not surprised that William, for all
his courting of the Reaper, was less than welcoming when He finally arrived.
Humans had the most morbid fascination with their own demise. Entire rituals
designed around its prevention, its indefinate delay. No matter how sick,
wearied or jaded a human meal was, they always fought their Grand Finale with
every ounce of physical and mental strength they possessed. Angelus was glad
of it, really. It made for better game.

What did surprise and amuse Angelus was when the little brown haired
guttersnipe whimpered "No..no" as Angelus worked to complete the Circle. He actually had
to hold Williams head still to feed him back the blood. <<Too late now, my
boy>> William heard the voice in his head clearly as the omnipotent survival
instinct of the burgeoning demon took over his body. It was the single and
only thing Angelus would ever communicate to him in this way. He would never
have Sire's blood again. As if the boy knew this, he sucked at the blood
pouring from Angelus wrist with a frenzy that took the older vampire aback.
For someone who had fought the change with a strength belied by his size and
stature, William was making short work of draining the more powerful man.

The next memory Spike posessed was of being thrown, fully clothed, into a tub
of steaming, soapy water. True to his word, Angelus held him under the suds
while he struggled and squirmed, and gasped for air. "You don't need to breathe, idiot
child, stop wrestling with me." Hot water and sweet scented bubbles rushing
through his ears, Spike nonetheless heard the words. After a few long,
dreadful moments, he realized it must be true. Or he would already be dead.

He remembered being cleaned and scrubbed like a prized horse, from hair to
toenails, and cursorily dried with a white, fluffy towel. He remembered his
first meal, taken without hesitation or remorse, a lovely, caramel skinned
girl who cursed at him in French before she died.

And even centuries later, he remembered the sex. Every other intimate
encounter he had ever had morphed into one pale blur when Angelus fucked him.
Odd. Because it wasn't so different really. A larger, stronger man, taking
what he wanted from his body. The solitary distinction was what Angelus said
when it was done. One word.

"Mine."

William had never belonged to anyone or anything. No one had ever wanted to
lay claim to him, let alone actually tried to do it. And it did not matter to
him one whit why Angelus had made this declaration. Whether it was to twist
Williams mind or heart to his whim, or because he truly meant it, or simply
because he could say it, and make William hold to it, was beside the point to
William. William wanted it to be true, and so, it was. In that instant,
Angelus became everything he had never had, nor realized how much he had
craved. He only now acknowledged the pitiful longing which had been for over
twenty years his only companion. But the bleakness of his former life had
been erased by a single blood-filled kiss. Here, under the demons spell, and
with the childlike simplicity of one who has spent their entire life enslaved
by others, Will made his choice.

Angelus was Father, Lover, Home.

William lived up to this promise to himself to never be alone again, to never
wonder where he would sleep, or where his next meal would come from. He
steadfastly refused to allow the older vampire to goad him into leaving.
Whether or not that was Angelus true goal was impossible to determine. It
could have been that he didn't care one way or the other whether his Childe
stayed or left. Or, perhaps that he really was just the nasty sonofabitch he
portrayed himself to be. But when William was given silk shirts, and velvet
pajamas, and wrapped to sleep in satin and down comforters, and taken to
places in the world he had never even heard of, and tended to by the palest,
softest women.....ah, well, it certainly made the beatings easier to endure.

Angelus would smoke expensive cigars, and drink aged brandy, and hunt among
the noblemen and women. At first William could not understand any of this...why
bother with mortal pleasures when there is the Blood? And Angelus would laugh
and call him a whelp, and say "you'll learn, boy, you'll learn." Soon William
was rolling his own tobacco, and drinking red wine, although he could not
quite develop a taste for brandy. And Angelus would look at him with
something akin to pride. And William would completely forget the lash marks
on his back.

Before each of their encounters, Angelus would ask him for permission. It was
all for show, really, and William understood he actually had no say in the nightly
games. Not if he wanted to please his Sire, and keep his skin, anyhow. So he
would answer the same, no matter what the question. "Yes, I wish it my
Lord."

And then, every night, when Angelus and he would finish whatever bizarre
pleasures his Master had designed for the evenings enjoyment, he would hear
it. Just before drifting off into sleep. And it didn't matter at all why his
Sire said it. Didn't matter why he did any of the things he did, no matter how
awful they sometimes were. That one vow erased all of it.

"Mine."
 

End Part 5
 

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