Marie sat back on her heels, puffing out her exhaustion and wiped the sweat from her brow, leaving streaks of blacking on her work coarsened skin. At this time of night and without the benefit of the range, the kitchen was chill and the contrast between her overheated body and the cold made her shiver. She closed her eyes, hearing the sounds of the other servants through the thick walls of the house, louder than any of them would have dared if the master and mistress were at home. For a moment, before remembering M. Jean’s wandering hands and long lecherous looks, she wished she could join them, even knowing that as the most junior maid it was impossible. Another shudder rattled through her thin form at the memory of the butler’s attentions and she bent back to her task, the soft brush working the blacking into the metal range.
Completely absorbed in her work, she only noticed the muted knocking on the back door when a distinct urgency entered the tattoo. She rose, dropping her tools, and hurried to answer, remembering at the last moment the butler’s warning to check the window before opening the door. A cloaked figure huddled against the wall and, as it turned into the light, Marie saw it was a young woman, about her own age but with an ethereal beauty she could never dream of possessing. The woman knocked again, glancing nervously up and down the narrow lane that traversed the rear of the property and without another thought Marie turned the key and cracked open the door.
"Please help me!" The visitor’s desperate voice pleaded as soon as the door opened. "There are men, following me. Please let me come in."
The cry for help, on the heels of personal experience, was enough to convince Marie. She threw the door wide and held out her hand to grab the young woman, who flinched away from her.
"I won’t hurt you. Though there’s many out there that might. Come in, be safe."
The woman stepped over the threshold, still rejecting Marie’s hand, and glanced nervously around the large kitchen. Marie closed the door behind her and then pushed past further into the room heading for a cupboard. "There is no coffee I am afraid. The master does not think it an appropriate drink for servants but I can offer you a glass of wine."
She turned to smile at her visitor, who had moved to sit at the large table, her pale fingers tracing over the copper pans that covered its surface. Sensing the other woman’s unease she placed a full glass in front of her and asked carefully, "Do you have a name? Mine is Marie."
Liquid blue eyes met hers and the woman whispered, "Darla."
"That’s a nice name."
A loud thud rattled the windows and Darla’s head shot round fearfully. Marie laughed, "Don’t worry. The master and mistress are from home and the others are enjoying the peace and quiet."
"How many of you are there?"
It was an odd question but not so strange that Marie didn’t answer. "Three maids and the butler. The rest of the household travelled to the country."
"Good." The pan smacked into the side of Marie’s head and she dropped to the ground with nary a whimper. "Enough to keep the wolf from the door without the inconvenience of a fight."
An hour later Darla had all four servants trussed and gagged in the larder, and was sitting at the cellar window her eyes trained on the house across the street. As she’d suspected, this place provided an excellent view of the Watcher’s hideaway. From here even a vampire could monitor their comings and goings, during the daylight hours as well as at night and sooner or later they were bound to make a mistake.
She would be waiting.
***
"That went well."
Angelus growled inaudibly and stalked on ahead through the bustling corridors, side stepping the occasional piece of walking scenery and ignoring the apologies launched in his direction by their accompanying stagehands. At the next junction he sought out the darkest way and strode down it keeping his own counsel.
Never being much of a one for taking a hint, Spike bounced up alongside him and added with a smirk, "Really. It did. Object lesson in seduction, that was. Swept the poor chit off her feet, I’m sure."
Extreme violence was inappropriate in front of so many humans, or so Angelus kept telling himself while ignoring the continued baiting. The growl grew distinctly louder.
"Reckon the trying to stake yourself when she said she didn’t love you might have been a bit much though."
Angelus’ hand automatically found the small tear in his jacket where the point of the chair leg had damaged the cloth, and the skin beneath. Stupid. Foolish. The girl had made a fool of him – and he couldn’t remember how. Just entering the dressing room and then her eyes. Huge and dark, filling his vision, possessing his mind until…
A sharp finger jabbed into his ribs. "Good job I was there, mate. Else the cleaner’d be sweeping you off the floor about now."
The growl erupted as a full-grown roar as Angelus felt his temper snap.
Spike howled when a hand shot out and gripped his ear, twisting it sharply. "Oi! Lay off. That bloody hurts!"
Angelus didn’t hear him, didn’t notice when Spike rose onto his toes as the over-stressed flesh started to give. Couldn’t hear or see anything. He was blinded by rage, lust and a lingering sense of induced helplessness that had him desperate to reassert control.
Five steps down a thankfully deserted corridor brought them level with a stout plain wooden door, which he kicked wide, the crash resounding hollowly through the large room. Spike had just enough time to register that the floor was polished wood before they got more intimately acquainted.
"Oof!" For the second time that evening the air was forced from his lungs as Angelus landed heavily on his back. And then the punches started. Head, shoulders, ribs. Not the ribs again! Driven by pure instinct, Spike tried to curl, to protect his head with his arms, and failed. Above the dull sounds of his flesh being bruised he heard Angelus snarling, the bestial noise slowly resolving into something resembling human speech.
"Damned thrall… Tried to control me… Do what she wanted… Just a human."
Each ragged phrase was punctuated by another blow until Angelus grabbed Spike’s head in a punishing grip and started to twist. Panic surged through Spike’s body egged on by the words now tumbling from Angelus’ lips. "Kill her! Rip her a-fucking-part!"
Christ, Spike thought as the pressure increased, stretching his neck back and round, he’s actually going to do it! He’s going to finish me!
In sheer desperation he bucked violently, trying to throw Angelus off him. The older vampire teetered for a moment before lurching forwards, releasing his grip on Spike’s head to catch his weight on his hands. Spike wriggled backward between Angelus legs, shoes scuffling on the floor and, when clear, rolled to his feet and made for the door. A mere foot from safety he was captured again and this time hurled into the wall, hitting it face first; his head rebounding and wrenching already stretched neck muscles. He must have blacked out for a moment; he wasn’t sure and it didn’t matter. Fingers scrabbling on the plaster and dress shoes sliding on the polished wood, Spike managed to turn, bracing the length of his aching body on the wall and raising his fists in preparation for the next assault.
It didn’t come.
In fact the room appeared empty.
Not wanting to be caught unawares, Spike strained his senses around the shadowed room for any clue as to where Angelus might be. His scent was still ripe on the air and too fresh for the young vampire to distinguish present from recent past.
"Angelus?"
The words were spoken as much for company as for information. Silence as hungry as the darkness gaped around him, threatening to devour everything. Maybe it had taken Angelus already?
The moon chose that moment to throw off her cloak of clouds, raising the ambient light level to useful intensity and revealing the vast size of the room. He’d suspected as much. Even in the darkness he had felt the walls reaching away from him and the quietest sounds had echoed around it. Cold white light spilled through windows filling one wall and reflected back off the huge mirrors that covered the other. Some sort of rehearsal space, then. For the dancers probably. But still no sign of Angelus.
Spike slumped down the wall, pain and exhaustion winning out over wariness. It had been a hell of a night and despite the ragging he’d given Angelus, Spike knew he hadn’t been immune to the singer’s charms himself. Being aware of the danger was nowhere near enough to protect you from it, he mused, and it been the resurgence of William’s literary inclinations that had saved him yet again. The threat of reverting to the lily-livered mortal he’d once been was just sufficient to break through Christine’s thrall in the nick of time and save both himself and Angelus.
He wet his lips with his tongue, tasted blood and wiped at his nose with his sleeve. A blaze of pain shot through his face and the material came away streaked red against black. His nose might not have been broken when he hit the wall but it still hurt like the blazes. He wiped again, more carefully this time using his hand rather than his jacket and then licked his fingers clean.
<Click>
Hand frozen in place at the minute mechanical sound, Spike raised his head, scanning the still empty room. Nothing had changed… Or had it. Was that shadow in the corner deeper? The mirrored wall not quite as long?
A figure moved in the darkness and Spike rose to his feet, bloody nose forgotten.
"That was… interesting."
As Angelus’ voice emerged from the shadows, Spike tensed, expecting the older vampire to take up where he’d left off. He didn’t. Instead he sauntered into the centre of the room, hands deep in his pockets and all trace of his previous rage gone from his face.
"What was?" Spike asked warily.
Angelus spun on his heel, walking backwards as he nodded towards the corner where he’d reappeared. "Secret passageway. I’m willing to bet the whole place is riddled with them." He turned back round with a skip in his step and sporting a smug grin, the only thing needed to complete the picture of total relaxation was a cheery whistle.
This sudden change in countenance did absolutely nothing to alleviate Spike’s suspicions. Normally Angelus didn’t bother concealing his emotions around family, gloating was after all, something of a penchant for the other vampire. However Spike had seen his mentor interact with humans often enough to know that he could practice such deception with considerable ease and he wasn’t about to be taken in.
"Uhuh?" He stepped forward a few paces, curious but careful, folded his arms and stared past Angelus towards the guilty corner.
Now the angles had changed Spike could see that what had looked like a simple shadow was actually an illusion caused by the mirror that had pivoted to reveal a concealed opening. That noted, his gaze skipped back to Angelus and he raised an eyebrow questioningly. "So, you finished trying to rip my head off?"
Angelus shrugged, "Probably."
"Not the most reassuring answer." Spike ducked his head, thinking hard and then glanced up at Angelus through his eyelashes. "Don’t suppose it’s worth asking why?" he asked quietly.
Accidentally stumbling upon the secret passageway had temporarily quelled Angelus’ rage but it had done nothing for his lingering lust and the boy seemed to have no concept of how seductive he was standing there looking so demure. Angelus felt his cock twitch and took a step forward, leaning in until his mouth was level with Spike’s ear.
"Nope," he said, popping the p and smirking at the shiver it elicited. Closing his eyes, he inhaled deeply, tasting the faint flavours of Darla that permeated the younger vampire’s skin. The scent was hardly a surprise and it gave him something to play with. "Was she good?" he whispered. "Did you enjoy having my woman?"
"I, um, I…" Spike stuttered, flinching and taking a step back, reinstating the distance between them. His eyes remained firmly downcast and his fingers fidgeted with his jacket buttons.
The faux innocence and reluctance simply added to Angelus’ excitement and he encroached on Spike’s personal space for a second time. "She’s one hell of a fuck. But then you already knew that." His voice dropped to a rumble. "Did she go down on you? Suck you off? Jesus, what a mouth."
Their two-step progressed across the room, Spike reacting with increasing agitation and confusion to Angelus’ lewd commentary, head turning from side to side as he tried to avoid meeting his mentor’s eye. Angelus pursued him, rising amusement now warring with lust. "Do you think she’d do both of us? Me in her mouth while you fuck her? Sounds good, doesn’t it."
The wooden exercise bar pressing into Spike’s back brought the dance to a premature halt and Angelus took advantage, leaning in again and breathing against the younger vampire’s neck. Fear still outweighed arousal so he tried another tack. "Or maybe you could fuck her while I fuck you?"
Spike gulped in a huge lungful of air and the full flavour of his arousal soared off the scale. Angelus’ lips curled into a satisfied grin, the right combination at last. Careful that their bodies didn’t touch he hummed thoughtfully and flicked out his tongue to taste the rivulet of dried blood that ran from Spike’s ear to his collar. A hand pushed ineffectually at his chest. Angelus ignored it, continuing to lave a clean path down Spike’s neck, nuzzling in closer and trapping the hand between them. When the blood was gone he reached up and pulled the collar to one side, exposing more of that tantalising neck – and twin puncture marks that were unmistakably Darla’s.
A wave of possessive lust skidded through Angelus at the sight and he yanked firmly at the starched collar ripping it away. His mouth immediately covered the wounds, his fangs descending to reopen them and he suckled gently as Spike whimpered against his shoulder. Jacket and shirt buttons popped under his searching fingers, both garments quickly pushed to the floor and away.
Bruises bloomed across Spike’s ribs, some fresh, others already starting to fade. They formed a pretty decoration and Angelus couldn’t resist tracing them, pressing into the more colourful ones and smirking when the younger vampire gasped painfully.
As Angelus’ fangs and fingers teased, Spike clutched at the waist high bar behind him, unsure of what to do with his hands. This was what he’d wanted the other night only to be pushed aside in favour of Dru and it wasn’t fair, god damn it. All the girls had to do was flutter their eyelashes and Angelus was all over them, so why shouldn’t he?
His trousers were the next to go, the soft material sliding down his legs as large fingers closed around his erection causing his hips to thrust wantonly. Angelus sniggered against his neck and Spike fought down the feelings of shame the overt mockery educed. Want. Take. Have. And if being easy was the only thing that worked, he didn’t care. So long as Angelus’ mouth was on him, making his blood sing, he’d happily play the part of reluctantly seduced victim. There was time enough later for macho posturing.
"Do you want me to fuck you?"
Unless of course Angelus completely humiliated him.
Spike’s mouth turned out to have less pride than his brain because it answered for him. "Yes! Christ, yes," the words escaping in a rush of air.
"Tell me."
Pride be damned. He was as horny as hell. Role forgotten, Spike jerked forward into Angelus’ grip and growled, "Fuck me. Now!"
"Oo. Demanding aren’t we."
The tone was highly amused but it carried a dark undercurrent of desire and Spike rapidly found himself facing the mirror, his hands gripping wood as Angelus rocked against him insistently. Lips teased up and down his neck and Spike groaned with frustration, pushing back with his hips and tilting his head in the hopes that Angelus took the hint.
He did, flipping his own trousers open to release his aching erection and rubbing the wet head between the pale clenching buttocks before him. It was met by an answering slickness that had Angelus’ immediately suspicious. Had Spike set out to seduce him? Not that it mattered at this very moment. Nothing did, except slipping into the tight arse that was writhing against him.
Sinking his fangs into Spike’s nape, Angelus eased himself forwards feeling the puckered muscle stretch slowly around him, gripping his cock with a pressure that bordered on painful. One hand slid round from its steadying hold on Spike’s hip and intruded on where they were so tenuously joined, his thumb rubbing in soothing circles. Spike started to pant, relaxing slightly and allowing Angelus to gain a couple of inches of penetration. But that was all and when Angelus withdrew his fangs, Spike dropped his head forward, shudders racking his body.
"Do it," Spike virtually sobbed, disbelieving of his body’s attempts to reject the welcome intrusion. Two minutes ago he had wanted this more than anything. Hell’s, he’d been fantasising about this since the steamer to Jersey, the last time Angelus had taken him this way. And now his body was reneging on the deal? Well, he wasn’t going to take no for an answer, anymore than Angelus would. "Just… fucking just do it."
There was no answer for a moment and then Angelus’ voice questioned, "Are you sure? You’ll tear."
Spike shook his head, "Don’t care. Gotta happen. Need it. Need you."
Not needing a second invitation, Angelus drove in feeling delicate tissues surrender deliciously and smelling the tantalising flavour of blood bursting on the air. The temptation to continue was overwhelming as the tight channel engulfed his erection, clenching and milking him, until Spike keened and banged his head gently on the mirror. At one time Angelus wouldn’t have cared; in fact he would have enjoyed the pain he was causing, but that was before he discovered how good this could be without force. There had to be something he could do, besides stopping, to make this better for both of them.
"Lift your leg," he ordered gently, patting the back of Spike’s thigh by way of qualification. The younger vampire did as he was bid, resting his right knee on the exercise bar. It changed the angles, making Spike lean forwards and rise up onto his toes when balance became an issue. Angelus withdrew slightly and began to rock gently, letting the residual oil and fresh blood ease his way. It seemed to help; the keening faltered and became whimpers, more of desire than pain and when Angelus thrust more forcefully Spike started his usually litany of incoherent words, "please" and "more" foremost among them.
Lost in the sensations being drawn from his body, Spike’s awareness of his surroundings faded. His skin burned under Angelus’ ceaseless touch, fingers pinching and rolling his nipples and teeth nipping his neck never quite breaking the skin. Each thrust made stars explode behind his eyes, his cock leaping and twitching under the assault. He couldn’t move, couldn’t touch himself without letting go of the bar and the whole took responsibility away from him, turned him into a vessel being used for another’s pleasure. The implied helplessness saw him writhing with unexpected lust, crying Angelus’ name and calling him sire, begging for a little more, a little harder. Angelus complied; grinding his hips and a snarl broke from Spike’s lips as a large hand enclosed his dripping erection, working him closer and closer to the edge. His arms shook with strain and by the time sharp fangs finally pierced his neck he came hard, tears of sheer relief stinging at his eyes.
Only then did Angelus turn his attentions to his own satisfaction and all Spike could do was hang on for the ride, the bar flexing under his hands as the air was driven from his lungs in rhythmic guttural grunts. The power of the thrusts nearly took his balance and Spike shook his head, trying to clear the post orgasmic haze so he could concentrate on remaining upright. With a dissatisfied growl Angelus pushed Spike’s leg higher, adding to the depth he could gain and Spike felt his other foot lose contact with the ground. For a second he feared he would fall, but he needn’t have worried. Realising what was happening Angelus held Spike’s hips taking his weight as the younger vampire brought his other leg up opposite the first.
It did the trick; with Spike effectively kneeling against the bar Angelus was able to completely dictate the pace and he did exactly that, slamming them together with increasing ferocity, a pliant body being exactly what he needed to expel the remnants of his rage along with his lust. The roar built in his chest as his climax tightened in his sac and they both exploded from him simultaneously, the walls rattling as he vocalised his release. He slumped forwards heavily, his softening cock slipping from Spike’s throbbing hole, peripherally aware of a concerned yelp and the sound of something slamming into the floor.
For long seconds neither of them moved, each taking the time to recover from their exertions until an elbow jabbed back into Angelus’ side, "Look at that."
"Huh?" Angelus lifted his head and blinked blearily at the empty mirror. "What?"
"There’s no reflection."
"We’re vampires, Will. Of course there’s no reflection."
"No, yer daft bugger. There." Spike’s finger indicated slightly lower on the reflective surface, now covered in come. "You’d think it’d reflect after if came out, wouldn’t you."
Sniggering at the petulant tone in the younger vampire’s voice, Angelus stood up and tucked himself away. Spike was still staring at the mirror; head cocked to one side and studying the streaks as though they would spontaneously develop a reflection.
Angelus watched for a moment and then, patting the naked backside in front of him, said, "Don’t tell me, ‘it’s not bloody fair.’"
Spike cringed at his mentor’s appalling mimicry and replied, "You could at least try and sound like you’d heard of London. And no, it’s got nothing to do with unfair. Just interesting is all. Does anything reflect?"
The question was met with a shrug, so Spike hawked, spat and then crowed happily, "Heh, that doesn’t either!" at his new discovery.
It was something akin to having a younger sibling around the place, Angelus reflected with an indulgent grin. The incessant questions, the mindless enthusiasm for the smallest things. It reminded him of… An unhappy growl erupted from his throat at the memory of his sister. He hadn’t thought about her for years and he wasn’t about to start now just because some stupid fledgling couldn’t control his mouth.
"Spike!" he snarled, tossing discarded clothing in the younger vampire’s direction. "Put some damned clothes on. I don’t need to be looking at your skinny poch any longer than I have to."
Hurt skated across Spike’s face, deadening the colour of his eyes before he could bend to pick up his clothes. When he stood, dangling his trousers from one finger, the usual cocky smirk had taken its place. "Don’t remember you complaining a bit ago," he leered, lifting his chin defiantly in Angelus’ direction.
For a minute Angelus let him think he’d won, watching as Spike started to dress, and then he said clearly, "Was that before or after you begged me to fuck you."
The smirk vanished as Spike’s nostrils flared and his jaw clenched in anger, and Angelus wished he could rip his traitorous tongue right out of his mouth. This was not the way it was supposed to be. He’d settled on sex as the best way to control the young demon and alienating him from those very sensations was not going to help his cause. For a moment their eyes locked and Angelus thought he saw the hint of tears hidden behind the layers of bravado that populated Spike’s face. Then it was gone, hidden behind glacial rage.
"Fuck you, Angelus!"
Clothes more askew than worn, Spike stormed towards the door preparing to do one of his patented door-slamming exits and Angelus knew he couldn’t let that happen. If he did they would be back to stage one, that destructive cycle of physical aggression and violence he’d hoped they’d left behind in England.
"Will?"
The briefest of hesitations stalled Spike’s hand on the door and Angelus took full advantage. He ripped rapidly into his wrist, knowing the scent of his blood was more eloquent than any words and offered it over. "You’re hurt."
Tense silence wrapped around both figures on the heels of the offer, broken only by the metronome sound of thick, coagulating blood hitting the wooden floor. Spike’s back, unyielding stone under his shirt, remained facing Angelus and the older vampire could think of nothing else he could do or say to rebuild the tenuous trust he had destroyed with his thoughtlessness.
Imperceptibly Spike began to crumble, his shoulders dropped, then his head, and his hands unfurled from their clenched position at his sides. Finally a deep bone-melting sigh soughed through him and he turned, cocking his head slightly as he spoke, "Reckon I could do with a drop. Thanks."
Angelus held his arm out and Spike approached slowly, eyes locked on his mentor’s, still wary of cruel blows and crueller words. He’d opened up, risked everything in that moment of passion only to have it returned to him as vicious barbs and even as he recognised the offer of blood as an apology of sorts he wasn’t about to make that mistake again.
Their fingers met, Spike’s crawling up Angelus’ hand to capture his bleeding wrist and carry it to his mouth. As his head bent and his lips sealed around the wound, Angelus risked laying the other hand on the back of Spike’s neck. The sudden tensing of muscle and a momentary cessation of feeding met his reconciliatory gesture, so he added the gentle caress of his thumb to the soft hair at Spike’s nape. The careful sucking started up again and Angelus guided his charge into the circle of his arms until they were close enough for him not to have to worry that Spike would bolt.
Taking a deep breath he ventured returning them to some level of normality. "There’s still Christine."
Spike mumbled something unintelligible and Angelus laughed, tugging softly at his hair. "Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to speak with your mouth full."
Lips curled into a smile against his skin and Spike raised his eyes, their golden colour dancing with amusement. "I said, you’ll get the bird. Just need a plan is all."
"You’re immune. Maybe if you weakened her…" Angelus trailed off as Spike released his wrist and stood up, shaking his head.
"Not enough. She coulda had me, same as you."
"What then?"
"Dunno. She’s holding all the aces. And with so many people around we can’t even go for a quick kill without raising suspicions. Reckon her eyes are the key though. That’s all I can remember. Her eyes. Maybe if we blindfolded her. That might work."
Angelus paused, his jacket sleeve rolled halfway down his arm. "What did you say?"
Shrugging, Spike finished it for him and moved on to his tie. "Just that she’s in charge. Got the power, you know."
"Not that."
"Erm… eyes?"
"No. People." Angelus brushed off Spike’s fussing and started to pace. "We’ve been going about this all wrong. The singer is human and not a gypsy, so where has she learned thrall. It has to be from another vampire. And the first time I met her she didn’t try anything so that suggests that the vampire is still around."
Spike watched with increasing bemusement as Angelus worked through the problem. "Yeah? So?"
"If he’s around he must be feeding. If he’s feeding, we can find him. Taking Christine is too risky, so we go to the source." Angelus stopped in his tracks and spun round a self-satisfied grin on his face. "Hunt down the vampire and destroy it, then take out the girl."
"Yeah." Spike said slowly. "Only one trouble with that. If he taught her to do the thrall thing, what’s stopping him from doing it himself."
Anger flashed across Angelus’ face when he realised Spike was right and he retorted, "Fine, so what would you do?"
"Wait till she goes out, knock her over the head, stick a blindfold on her and take her back to the house. That way you can take your time killing her and not have to worry about her playing about in your head."
Damn. That was a good plan and Angelus knew it. Except… "Except someone will have to watch for her leaving the building. Day and night."
Spike’s eyes went wide at the significant look Angelus was giving him. Stay out during the day, skulking in the shadows and running the continuous risk of being exposed? That was a dangerous task. Not one to be taken on lightly. It meant trust and respect and…
He folded his arms brazenly across his chest and nodded. "I’ll do it."
***
"The only possible solution I can see is to wait until after the child is born and brought out of the house and then kidnap it. But it means someone having to watch the place by both day and night. She could give birth at any time and I am certain the Council will not inform us when it happens."
Angelus shook his head, not believing he was having this same conversation twice in the same twenty-four hour period. It had been a long night, he hadn’t fed, and when Darla met him armed with the address of a Watcher’s Council safe house and dragged him back out to reconnoitre in the hours before dawn, he’d followed in something of a fug. Now Darla was reiterating Spike’s plan for Christine only this time with Lily’s brat in the starring role and he was the one who got baby-sitting duty.
He sighed, pathetically. Whatever happened to the good old days of blood and mayhem. Somewhere along the line his unlife had become far too complicated.
"Angelus? Are you listening to me?"
Far be it for him ever to accuse Darla of nagging. "Yes, dear. You want me to watch for signs of Lily giving birth."
"Precisely. They will be looking out for me, though perhaps not you. The house opposite has a cellar with windows that overlook the street and the family is away from home. I have already gained an invitation for us from the servants, so you will have food on tap, for a while at least. Now…"
As Darla went on to detail her idea, Angelus stopped listening. There was no conceivable way this plan could work.