Rating: NC-17
Summary: Power Play episode expansion. How will Angel and his
team fool the
senior partners' liaison and the other members of the Black Thorn?
DISTRIBUTION: Various S/A friendly lists
Spoilers: Through Ats Season 5: Power Play.
Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or Spike or anything else from ME.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
"Kill 'em all, then burn down the house while we're still
in it," Spike
summarized when Angel finished explaining his plan.
The emotions of his grand-childe had always been easy to
read, and now
was no different, however this time it was a real struggle for him
to
withhold his response. Angel knew the blond vampire was recalling
clearly
the last sacrifice he'd made, the allusion to flames no mere metaphor.
"Something like that," he agreed quietly, struggling
to keep his own
emotions under control.
Finally he tore his gaze away and stared slowly around the room,
acknowledging the raised hands of the three others. He'd never
really
doubted this outcome for a moment, but still he felt the tight sensation,
which had been present in his chest for weeks now, finally loosen a
bit.
Before anyone could speak again, he lowered his own hand and held it
out,
forestalling them. They only had one more minute left before
the glamour
expired, and he wasn't finished.
"We have to assume that everything we do is under surveillance,
especially here," he added. "The senior partners will know about
this
confrontation soon, if they don't already, and there's only way they'll
believe I'd let all of you out of this room alive under the circumstances.
They'll need to be convinced that *I'm* convinced - or at least sufficiently
so - of your loyalty. And the only way they'll believe that is
if I have an
ally from among you who can help keep the rest in line.
"How could they possibly think one of us would agree to
that, at least so
quickly, after what just happened?" Wesley asked quietly.
Lorne and Gunn nodded in agreement, but Spike never took
his eyes off
Angel, his stance as tense as it had been a minute before the glamour
had
enveloped them. Angel met his gaze and nodded tersely, before
turning to
explain to the others.
"Spike." He paused, then added quietly; "They'll
know he's the only one
I would be able to trust right now."
Silence followed this statement, and Angel stared resolutely at the
ground,
not meeting their eyes for a moment.
"Of course," Wesley said softly.
Angel finally looked up, his expression under control once
more. "We're
almost out of time. I'm going to give you an ultimatum, and when
you leave
here you should meet in one of your offices to discuss everything.
Upside,
downside - cover it all. It's what they'll expect. Just
remember nothing
you do will remain unknown to the partners. "Does everyone understand?"
When they nodded he held out his right hand. "Lorne."
The red-eyed demon moved back into position against the
vampire's chest,
and Angel's arm circled him as it had before. The others shifted,
instinctively stepping back into the tense fighting positions they'd
held
six minutes before. Angel glanced down at his watch and ticked
off the
seconds. When he looked up his face was cold, caught somewhere
between
maliciousness and indifference.
"I'm giving you all a choice, one choice, and you'd better think
long and
hard on it. You're either with me, or you're against me."
He released Lorne suddenly, shoving him toward the others,
and the
green-skinned demon stumbled, caught by the arms of his comrades.
"You have twenty-four hours, no more" Angel said, staring
them down.
"Now get out, I have work to do."
The four turned and made their way toward the door, clearly anxious
to
escape the frightening presence before them.
"Spike, stay."
The voice stopped them all. Spike's eyes widened
in shocked surprise,
while the others instead showed confusion. They'd been exposed
often enough
to Angel's mild-mannered and slope-shouldered alter ego, but having
once
experienced the commanding presence at his core, none of them were
fooled as
to the real strength hidden behind that sometimes stumbling façade.
Still,
there was a tone to his voice now that none of them had ever heard
before,
and it stopped them in their tracks, as though the command had been
issued
to each of them individually, instead of the blond vampire beside them.
Angel's eyes were locked upon the tense figure in black, and after
another
hesitant pause, the others quickly made their exit.
Spike stood absolutely still, his hands held stiffly to
his sides, fists
clenched, a tick flickering at the curve of his taut jaw. The
command voice
of grand-sire had had an immediate impact, and he struggled to control
the
automatic response of his body. Damn the fledgling training regiment!
Angelus had conditioned him so thoroughly that even to this day, one
hundred
and thirty years after the fact, he was unable to ignore it, despite
his own
status as a master vampire.
Angel read that response, of course. Spike knew it
was inevitable, but
he had a role to play, and he determinedly put aside his sudden rage
over
this turn of events. He'd known, after all, what Angel had intended,
the
minute he's broached what needed to be done. Despite that he
couldn't meet
the other's eyes. He refused to drop his gaze either, though,
and instead
stared straight ahead of him, watching the taller man through his peripheral
vision. Maintaining that stoic stance was anything but easy as
the
dark-haired vampire moved smoothly toward him, gliding soundlessly
as though
he floated over the floor beneath them. The tick increased.
Spike knew
only too well that the graceless persona his grand-sire sometimes displayed
for others was nothing more than a clever disguise. The preternatural
strength, grace, stealth and speed of the vampire before him was eerie
to
say the least, even to one who shared those traits. To humans
it was
disorienting at best, and terrifying at worst. It brought forth
ancient and
hidden group memories of ghosts and things that went bump in the night,
of
malicious menaces hiding in the dark, waiting to devour and destroy.
He
waited tensely, as Angel circled him slowly. On his second pass,
Angel
paused just behind him to his left, then leaned in close.
"I'm hoping you won't be needing twenty-four hours,
Will," the silky
voice whispered in his ear, a hint of Angelus' Irish brogue peeking
through.
The air was immediately full of two competing scents; anger
and arousal.
Glancing down over the shorter man's shoulder, Angel saw the erection
straining against the front of the blonde's black jeans. To his
credit,
Spike didn't try to hide that response, though Angel could tell by
the
clenched fists and trembling body that he badly wanted to do just that.
He
matched his grand-childe's bravado, hiding the intense discomfort he
felt at
the scene he himself had orchestrated with a leering smirk. Anyone
watching
who understood vampire family dynamics would immediately recognize
the scene
taking place in this room now; would recognize the commanding and dominant
posture of the one, and the silent submission of the other. He completed
the
second circle around the blond until he stood directly before him,
just
three feet separating them.
"Blood to blood, boyo. Tell me now. Can I count on you?"
The tick flashed again. Will, boyo. Those words
stood in stead for the
one unspoken. It hung, nonetheless, heavy between them, and impossible
to
ignore; childe.
Blue eyes met brown, and Spike swallowed hard. The answer required
was a
given, their roles agreed to minutes before, but Angel was playing
his part
all too well, and Spike had to admit to himself that had this not been
pre-arranged, soul or not, he wasn't sure that his answer could be
anything
but assent. His gaze dropped and a split second after that he
sank slowly
to his knees, his hands resting on his thighs and his neck vulnerably
bared
to the predator before him.
"Always, Sire," he whispered in reply.
Silence enveloped the room, but a second later Angel stepped
into his
line of sight. Spike resolutely kept his gaze down, until a strong
hand
tightened around his upper arm, lifting him to his feet.
"Then seal the deal," the low voice whispered in return.
Spike glanced up, unable to control his look of surprise.
He hadn't
anticipated this. One large hand remained firm about his arm,
while the
other rose to cup the back of his neck, drawing him close. He
watched in
amazed fascination as the angelic features shift to reveal another,
one both
beautiful and terrible in its demonic intensity. The hand at
his neck
slipped up to clench in his hair, and his head was tugged to the side,
baring the pale scar left by Dru so long ago. And then all coherent
thought
fled as razor-sharp fangs sliced into his jugular, releasing his blood
in an
explosive burst.
Angel couldn't contain a growl of ecstasy as the viscous
blood hit his
tongue. Copper and salt, home and family, it was all there, everything
he
was, contained in the liquid gold that poured down his throat.
He gripped
the blond tighter, then released both arm and hair to circle the slender
body, pulling him in close. Oh god, so good, so perfect.
It had been too long since he'd held one of his own this
way, since he'd
taken what belonged to him, what was his. His hands tightened
as a
possessive wave swept through him, making him shudder against the trembling
body before him. He ground his pelvis forward, his cock hard
and
unyielding, seeking the platinum blonde's equally hard erection with
a force
that could not be denied and clamped his jaw down tighter, his teeth
sinking
in deeper yet. Spike howled, unable to contain his response to
the claiming
bite as his grand-sire drank deep, pulling the blood from him in a
rushing
font.
Finally, with a rumble of dismay Angel pulled back, his
eyes almost black
with pleasure. Tipping his head to one side, he bared his own
throat.
Spike's eyes widened. He'd had Druscilla's blood
often enough - far more
often than most childer normally did - but never had he tasted the
blood of
his sire's sire.
"Drink, Childe," Angel urged.
And that was all it took. Spike's features shifted
immediately, his
demon screaming to the forefront to complete the claim, teeth sinking
in
hard and deep, desperate to accept the rare offer before it was withdrawn.
Sireblood.
Bloody hell, it was unbelievable. Dru had tasted
sweet and wild, but
insanity tainted her veins. In her blood there was a hint of
her own sire
that Spike could taste now, but there all comparisons ended.
Angel was pure
ambrosia; dark and rich, primeval and powerful. For the first
time ever,
Spike glimpsed the ancient lineage of their race, that sight denied
him by
the madness of the one who'd turned him. In Angel, Spike saw
the enormity
of what came before him, and felt the inescapable and eternal tie between
them all, generation to generation, himself a crucial link in that
chain.
The sense of belonging that sprang into existence in that moment was
painful
in its intensity, and he ground his erection hard against his sire's
and
sucked harder in response, drinking down all those who came before
him,
taking their strength into himself with a sense of awe and reverence
that
would have appalled his souled self in a more conscious moment.
He didn't
ever want to stop.
Angel groaned and shook as Spike fed from him, hard and
aching for
release. He let it go on longer than he should, he knew that,
but a part of
him couldn't bear to have it end. Finally his will prevailed,
and with a
sigh he pulled the young one from his neck, holding him firmly when
he felt
the other's knees give way at the abrupt absence. Blood trickled
from both
their mouths, and each stared at the other, a ravenous hunger beating
through them in an eerie parody of a live, pumping heart. Teeth
clashed a
second later as Angel ground his mouth down upon the smaller man's,
tongue
sweeping along pallet and lips to claim every remaining drop.
Spike's
tongue joined the fray and they competed in a feverish frenzy, more
blood
spilled and reclaimed as teeth tore into soft tissue. With a
low growl,
Angel pushed Spike away. His back hit the wall hard, but he barely
registered that impact, as it was followed immediately by Angel's weight
against him once more, his lips and teeth and tongue ravaging him as
though
he'd never stopped.
The elevator door opened beside them with an almost silent
whoosh, and
the next thing he knew, Spike was shoved into it roughly, stumbling
into a
corner, the hulking menace of his sire hard at his heels.
"Upstairs," he growled, slamming his palm down hard on
the penthouse
button.
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