They separated into three groups, Spike heading off alone with a warning to give him at least an hour before they tried to storm the lair. As soon as he left, Justine started ragging on the others about how foolish it was to trust a vampire, and how Spike was sure to betray them. Saying that when they got to the warehouse they would find either nothing or an ambush set by their so-called friend. Eventually, it was Gunn that stopped her; something that surprised Wesley as there was no love lost between the vampire and the vampire hunter.
Their strategy was brutally simple, the first group consisting of Gunn, Connor and Faith would attack, distracting and dusting as many minions as they could find, while the second group - Fred, Justine and himself- would find Willow and Dawn and get them out. Fred and Justine had escort duty to get the erstwhile prisoners back to the safety of the hotel and Cordelia, while Wesley would return to the warehouse to help the clean up operation and restrain Angelus.
But the whole thing hinged around Spike’s ability to keep the Master vampire occupied while they destroyed his home around him. Wesley found himself dwelling on Justine’s words, and comparing her expectations to the behaviour that he had witnessed from the vampire during the time he had been in LA.
He thought it was unlikely that Spike would give them up willing or betray them deliberately, he was more worried that in his current state the vampire might break down and blurt the whole plan out in a fit of depression. Maybe he should have given him a Prozac or something before he left. Wesley wasn’t sure what effect such a drug would have on a vampire’s constitution, or if it was contra indicated with the potion he was going to take, but surely it couldn’t have hurt.
As they were about to leave their temporary base, four blocks from the target, Wesley’s cell phone vibrated in his pocket and he snatched it up in annoyance.
“Yes!”
“Wesley? It’s Cordy.” He could hear the tears in her voice as she spoke.
“Cordelia, is everything all right? Are you crying? What’s happened?” When the others heard his words they gathered around him, questioningly. He waved them back and turned away when the Seer spoke again.
“I had a vision. Oh my god, Wesley. Don’t let them do it. Stop them, nooo…” Her voice drifted off and Wesley heard the sound of something breaking.
“Cordelia, Cordy!! Talk to me, dammit. Cordelia, do you need someone to come back, I’ll send someone.”
After a long silence, and just when he was about to send one of the others off to the hotel, a slightly breathless voice answered him.
“I’m okay, or I will be. They’re going to try and kill them. In my vision, I saw them…Spike and Angel, and then they were dust, both of them. But I couldn’t see who it was, I couldn’t see.” She was sobbing again and Wesley thought he heard the sound of a bottle of water being cracked open. Not wanting to upset her any further, he offered what comfort he could.
“We’re going in soon. I’ll be careful, nothing will happen now you’ve warned us, but what about you. Are you going to be okay?”
“Yes.” Her voice was calmer, but there was a hesitant note in it that suggested things were far from all right. “It’s just…The vision, Wesley. It hurt like it did before. I-I don’t think I’m a demon any more.”
In the silence that followed, Wesley tried to reassemble his thoughts and work through the implications of what she had said. Cordelia had been dying from the visions when the Powers had made her part demon, now she was human again and still a Seer. She would die, maybe not tomorrow or the day after, but within the next few months they would lose her, the visions would tear her head apart and she would die. He wanted to go to her, hold her, comfort her, but there was no time and the only one who could help her, the only other one who could fight on her behalf was gone. Until they captured Angelus and brought Angel back, there was nothing anyone could do.
“Cordelia, listen to me. We’ll talk about this, when we get back.” He couldn’t let the possibility of failure cross his mind, so it had to be when, not if. “Angel will find a way to help you. You have to believe that.”
“I do. I believe it.” She was still shaky, but Wesley could hear the steel as it entered her voice, and his heart leapt as he recognised the staunch nerve and determination never to give up that Cordelia always managed to find within herself.
He switched off his phone and put it away, then looked at his watch. It was time for the assault to begin; at his signal they started to move out.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Less than a block from the lair, Spike slipped into a doorway and pulled the bottle of potion from his pocket, breaking the seal and taking a short nervous breath before swilling the lot down. This was the part he hadn’t mentioned to Wesley, the wildcard in the pack. He could get Angelus to drink, yes, but from him and he was hoping to god that the potion would linger in his bloodstream the same way alcohol and drugs did. If it didn’t, he was either going to be a raving madman, so not much change there, or possibly a pile of dust.
He set off again, faster than before, there was no way of knowing how much time there was before the potion started to work, and being slightly coherent when he arrived would be helpful. The minions at the door proved interesting and Spike was glad he hadn’t tried to smuggle anything, in when they searched him thoroughly, prior to escorting him into Angelus’ presence.
The room was just as he remembered the first time he had visited the lair, but now minions lined all the walls bar one, where, Spike realised with a sudden surge of relief, two female figures lay, partially obscured by a magical barrier. One lifted its head and he recognised the Witch, but how different from the last time he’d seen her. So pale he could trace the path of the veins beneath her skin, her red hair darker and hanging lankly around her face and her eyes, no longer emerald green but burning blackly deep in their sockets. She looked disconcertingly the way she had on the night of the car wreck in Sunnydale.
As their gazes met Spike heard a distant, tired voice in his head whisper his name. Willow was talking to him, as she had during their battle with Glory and the summer that followed, and it still had the power to make his skin crawl but he answered anyway. ‘Yeah, it’s me. The others are on their way, so you and Little Bit just hang on, okay.’
He dragged his eyes away from the girls, and approached Angelus who was seated in on a carved wooden chair in the middle of the room. Dropping to one knee in front of him, he waited silently, eyes downcast, until he was offered a hand, which he kissed reverentially on the palm.
“Spike, my boy.”
“Sire.” He remained kneeling, trying to discipline his body into remembering how to play the subservient childe. It wasn’t a role that had sat easily even in the early days, and the intervening years hadn’t helped.
“What are you doing here? And so much your old self, William. You only need the glasses to make the illusion complete.”
The glasses, he’d forgotten the glasses. They were suddenly a lump in his pocket, lost and forgotten in his worries over the potion and the upcoming confrontation. The question was, would Angelus still buy it?
“I…um, haven’t worn them in so long.” With a laugh, Angelus dragged him to his feet and caught him up in a rough embrace.
“Will, always the same - excuses, excuses. Have you seen my new toys?” The demon indicated his prisoners.
“Yeah, I noticed and don’t get me wrong, I get keeping the little one, her being the Slayer’s sister and all. But what’s with the Witch? You don’t need both of them and she’s a bit dangerous to keep around for a quick shag."
Angelus waved his finger under his Childe’s nose then slung an arm companionably round his shoulders. “You don’t get it, do you, boy. The Witch is far more valuable than the girl is. In another few hours she’ll turn to the dark powers, then she’ll be mine, the most powerful Witch in the western world under my thrall.”
Spike had to fight back a sudden urge to laugh, his Sire really was the most predictable creature in the universe, and arrogant. Angelus never doubted for one moment that his plans and schemes would succeed, and that was where Spike felt he had the advantage. Angelus rarely had a back up plan if things went wrong, Spike, on the other hand, rarely had a plan at all and tended to go with the flow, making things up as he went along. Granted it didn’t always work, but it gave him a healthy ability to think on his feet.
And right now he had to get Angelus to drink from him, before the potion kicked in and he gave everything away. Settling on challenging, which his Sire always found difficult to resist, he raised a speculative eyebrow and raked his eyes up and down Angelus’ body. The minions around the walls were a pretty hideous lot, so with any luck his Sire would be more than willing to adjourn to the bedroom for a while.
“A couple of hours, huh. Whatever will we find to fill the time?”
“Not so fast, I think.” The arm, which had been slung loosely round his neck, tightened and Spike quickly found himself held neatly in a headlock. Angelus chuckled and ground his knuckles hard into the top of his Childe’s head, eliciting a slight wince.
“The last time we met I seem to recall a most inconvenient stake, which not only hurt like hell, but also put paid to the fun I was having with Connor.” He didn’t think Spike had come back to kill him, even he wasn’t that stupid, but there was certainly something going on and he’d known his Childe long enough not to take anything he did at face value. Still, he had one way to be sure, the minions may have searched the body but there was still his mind.
“I’m feeling polite, so I’ll give you the choice. Either you submit properly and let me drink from you, or you can join my guests until I have the time to deal with you properly.”
This wasn’t quite how the scenario was supposed to play out, there should have been passion not suspicion when Angelus drank for the first time, but given the choices… Spike managed to force his answer out past the arm wrapped around his throat and braced himself for the assault, this was not going to be pleasant and to make it worse he was pretty sure the potion was starting to work.
When Angelus released him, Spike fell to the floor, feeling oddly hot and not entirely certain which way was up, but it was something like being drunk and he was good at dealing with that. He shook his head, trying to clear his mind, if his Sire was going to drink and it’d better be soon, he would need to hide all the details of the plan.
As the minions dragged him to his feet and held him fast, Spike buried all his thoughts behind the one which, when he let the tight reign he kept over his demon slip, always surged to the fore. The overwhelming frustration at being chipped and how the soul finally released him from its sadistic technological control.
Angelus regarded his Childe through hooded, suspicious eyes. There was certainly something going on, Spike looked flushed as if he had recently fed and yet there was no smell of fresh blood, just something that bizarrely reminded him of a baker he’d once eaten in Newcastle. There was one way to be sure however, so he pulled the collar away from the bared neck in front of him and ripped untidily into cool familiar flesh with his fangs.
The first draught was all soul and the alien taste of it within vampire blood made him want to spit. Then he saw, trapped beneath the soul, released from its cage of plastic and wire…Spike, family, the demon rejoicing and no longer impotent, constrained only by conscience which could easily be overcome now his Childe was home, where he belonged.
Satisfied with what he had tasted Angelus withdrew his fangs and laved briskly at the messy wound he had left at Spike’s throat before offering his wrist in return. He kept one warning hand on his Childe’s neck while he drank sparingly, then pulled him back into a tight embrace.
“William, yer truly home.”
“Just like I said, Sire.” Thank god, the stupid pratt had fallen for it, now all he needed to do was get him away from the others, rapidly. “So, a couple of hours?”
His query went unanswered, verbally anyway, as Angelus clamped a large hand around his neck and led him towards a metal door set into the back wall of the warehouse. The room inside was obviously set up to be private quarters with sets of bookshelves, a comfortable chair or two and a huge bed, draped in a blood-red coverlet, which dominated the small space. It was scrupulously clean and devoid of any of the ‘human’ touches Spike now associated with his Sire, the photographs and sketches he’d seen on the walls of Angel’s suite. What was it the Judge had said? That he was clean and had no humanity in him? It was the most accurate summation of Angelus he had ever heard.
“What are you waiting for, boy? Strip.”
Ah yes, Angelus, ever the romantic, how he’d missed him - not. Spike shucked off his gear, kicking it into the corner then approached, silently asking for permission to continue. Upon receiving a nod, he deftly unbuttoned and unzipped, divesting Angelus of his clothes almost as rapidly as he had removed his own, but these he folded and placed carefully on the chair. He knew better than to allow them to get rumpled, his Sire’s strap had reinforced that lesson years ago.
“Let me look at you.” It was an order, not a request and Spike complied, standing as motionless as he could, his head down, trying to sneak a glance at that magnificent body as Angelus prowled around him, occasionally reaching out to run a hand over his skin or hair.
“Acceptable, you’ve taken care of the body I gave you, I’m pleased. And you’ve healed well from your injuries.” He grabbed Spike’s chin and brought their gazes together. “You understand why, yes?”
“Yes, Sire.” Unwilling to look Angelus directly in the eye, he closed them, swaying slightly on the spot and heard a smug chuckle as his face was released.
“Bed, then.”
Again an order and not one to be challenged if he wanted their time together to go well. Keeping his eyes down he hurried to the bed trying to remember all the little rules that Angelus had for these encounters. It had been so long that his chances of getting through this without slipping up were small, even without the effects of the potion. Still, he could remember two, the first and the most important, do exactly as you’re told, and secondly, don’t touch unless given permission, if he followed those he should be okay.
From his seat on the bed he watched as Angelus moved around the room, picking up and discarding various toys and bottles. The sight took him back so many years and Spike suppressed a shiver at what the actions presaged, pulling his legs against his chest and wrapping his arms around them in a subconscious attempt to protect his more vulnerable parts.
When Angelus turned he quirked an eyebrow at the sight of his Childe seated on the bed looking distinctly nervous, maybe he should be gentle with him. Nah, where was the fun in that.
“Put that on.”
He threw something at the bed and when Spike looked down he saw it was a leather cock ring. It could have been worse he supposed, there were at least two bottles of holy water around the place, which he had no desire to play with. He liked a little pain as much as the next vamp but Angelus had a habit of taking these things to extremes.
“What are you waiting for?”
Spike jumped, realising he’d been sat staring at the object rather than following orders, and that would bring him nothing but trouble. Hurriedly he put it on, conscious of his Sire’s avid gaze as he ensured it was correctly fitted. It seemed familiar somehow and was certainly a good fit, and none of the cheap modern rubbish he’d seen on web sites either. This was old, soft leather with ties rather than buckles or snaps and if put on correctly would prevent him coming for hours. The ties were fiddly and in his current state not easy to do up, it would have been much easier if Angelus could have done it, but this of course was all part of the fun as far as Angelus was concerned. It was never enough that he could force himself on his childer whenever he wanted. No, the real fun lay in making them offer themselves up to him, collaborating in their own indignity; it was all one big power trip.
“Done?”
Spike nodded, and then realised his mistake when he received a backhand swipe across his face that drew blood to his lip.
“I asked if you were finished and I expect an answer.”
“Yes, Sire. Sorry, I’m finished.” Shit but he was still the anally retentive bastard he’d always been.
Angelus grunted, mollified by the apology but still unimpressed by the behaviour. It may have been several years since an encounter of this type with his Childe, but once a lesson was taught he never expected to repeat it. Seeing Spike on the bed, sat passively with his head down, Angelus felt his anger cool and his lust rise, astonishingly fast actually. He was overcome by a sudden desire to be buried in his boy’s body as quickly a possible.
Grabbing a bottle from the shelf he strode over to the bed, issuing orders as he went. “Turn over. Present yourself.”
Despite the sudden flare of rebellion he saw in those blue eyes, Spike did as he was told, rolling into a kneeling position then reaching behind to grasp his butt cheeks and pull them apart, exposing that wonderful rosebud that Angelus couldn’t wait to rip into. Having said that a little patience now would make for more fun later, he cracked open the bottle and poured a small amount of oil into his cupped hand using it to ensure his cock was slick enough to ease his way. His boy was always tight and much as he enjoyed the smell of blood, any serious damage would take longer to heal than he had patience to endure.
As Spike waited on the bed for Angelus to join him, he thought regretfully of what this exacting demon missed out on by playing these games. He would willing have spent hours making love to Angelus’ body just for the sheer pleasure of feeling him come alive under his hands but that was never allowed, it was always about this, power. The bed shook as his Sire knelt behind him and he tensed his thighs knowing from bitter experience that he would be expected to take both his own weight and Angelus’ once the ‘fun’ started. He took a deep relieved breath as with no more preparation than a single guiding fingertip that hard cock pushed against him, pressing him open slowly enough that he was able to relax into the penetration.
Angelus bit back a moan as he sank into his boy’s body, it would never do to let him know just how good it felt and how much he had missed him, anyway there were other ways of doing that. Gently he grasped Spike’s hands and enclosed them in his own before wrapping one arm tightly around his Childe’s chest and dropping the other to the bed, sharing the burden of their combined weights for the first time. He heard something resembling thanks drop from Spike’s lips and blew a soft puff of air across his neck, smirking as all the small hairs stood on end and an involuntary shiver ran through his boy’s body.
“Ready?”
“S-sire.”
That was good enough, he started to move, thrusting lazily, allowing the sensations to build slowly for them both, listening to Spike’s breathing slowly change from deep forced breaths to small pants. He was feeling surprisingly mellow and hot, like he’d been drinking a good quality porter and it was an extremely pleasant feeling. The only bothersome thing was that scent, the one he had smelled on his Childe earlier. Bakers? Baking? Bread, caraway bread that was it. Enticing and heady it was starting to swirl around him and fill him with a craving for more.
Angelus shook his head trying to clear it and released his grip on Spike’s hand, dropping it down to grasp his hip instead as suddenly it all became urgent, the need to spill his seed inside his Childe as soon as possible. Ignoring the small whimpering sounds from below him he started to pound into that willing body, bring his other hand up so he held the boy by both hips, leaving bruises that would last for hours.
“Sire, please. Please let me come, I’m gonna sodding burst.”
Spike was desperate. With Angelus pounding into his ass and hitting his sweet spot every time, he wasn’t kidding about what he’d said. If he didn’t get this thing off soon, his balls were going to explode. Whatever was in the potion that Wesley had used it obviously had an aphrodisiac effect on vampires, which was a very disturbing thought considering how much sex drive they usually had.
“Sire? Please?” He was not ashamed to beg, just please let him take it off while he could still feel his fingers.
With a growl, Angelus stopped his incessant movement and reached round to ease the knots on the leather cock ring, to no avail, they wouldn’t shift and neither of them had the co-ordination left to undo them. Spike sobbed, it was dumb and girlie, but he didn’t care, the situation was getting critical, he was hot all over, couldn’t stop panting and was fairly sure he was in imminent danger of passing out from frustration.
“Godamnit, boy. What did you do to it?” He could have just left it, let the idiot suffer for putting the thing on in such a way that it couldn’t be released, but he was feeling generous. Pushing Spike face down into the bed, Angelus slipped out of his ass with a groan then flipped him over and used his fangs to slice through the restrictive leather.
A shudder ran through Spike’s body as his cock was freed and he bucked when he fleetingly felt his Sire’s mouth so close to touching him, then Angelus was gone, rolling him over again and pulling him up to his knees. He had just enough time to grab two hands full of bedding before Angelus slammed back into him, driving him face first into the pillows and draping himself across his back until Spike could feel gasping breath on the back of his neck. Then they were back to the pounding rhythm he had set before, enough to set the whole bed frame rattling against the wall. And nothing else really mattered, just the delicious feel of that cock inside him and being able to finally get himself off.
Angelus was too far-gone to care when he noticed his Childe wanking in time to his thrusts. Strictly speaking it was against the rules but sod the rules, if Spike felt anything like he did at the moment any attempt to enforce them would result in quick and lethal violence. His orgasm blasted through him with no introduction and he came with a howl, biting down savagely into the shoulder in front of him. And as he shot repeatedly into that tight channel, he felt Spike jerk beneath him and his ass contracted in strong relentless waves, milking every last drop from his shaking body.
They collapsed in a heap; Angelus still locked onto his Childe’s neck, drinking deeply from his tempting blood until he felt another shudder and Spike lay still and un-breathing under him. He rolled off, catching and stilling his own breath, and watching as the room spun gently on its axis, the blood was intoxicating, the more he got, the more he wanted and the more intense his desire for his Childe. It was an amazing, addictive cycle and one he was quite prepared to indulge.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
The door disintegrated under their initial assault, and Connor entered first, closely followed by Faith. Gunn had initially complained about this order of attack until it was forcefully pointed out to him by Faith, as she twisted his arm neatly and painfully up his back, that in this company he was strictly third rate.
Behind them Gunn switched on the powerful flashlight he carried and swung it round in a wide arc. The place was deserted, just odd sticks of furniture scattered around and piles of rotting rubbish in the corners, no sign of the usual accoutrements he associated with a vampire’s lair. Goddamn, Justine had been right, Spike had sold them out!
The thought had hardly crossed his mind when Faith swung round to face him, hissing under her breath. “This isn’t what it looks like. There’s vampires here I can feel them.”
“Magic?” He mouthed back at her and she shrugged, he glanced at Connor who was ignoring them both, frowning in concentration and staring around the apparently deserted warehouse.
Gunn pointed outside miming Wesley’s name and at Faith’s short nod, he turned and went back through the door, running to the corner to where the second group was waiting until the way was clear for them to rescue the prisoners. Wesley looked annoyed when he arrived and he shrugged helplessly before filling them in.
“There’s magic or something going on in there. The place looks empty,” Justine looked up smugly, he ignored her and carried on, “but Faith says she can sense vampires.”
Wesley frowned and pursed his lips. “Could be a concealment spell of some kind, I think I know how…”
Any further discussion was forestalled when an unearthly yell rang out from the interior of the warehouse. They looked at each other in horror before starting to run toward the entrance. When they arrived they found Faith and Connor both engaged with unseen foes and although they were holding their own, it was obvious they wouldn’t for long.
Gunn took one look and threw himself into the fray, shouting back over his shoulder, “Whatever it is you’re going to do, English, you’d better make it quick.”
What he needed was a general protection spell, something that would negate the effects of any magics in the locale. He knew such a thing existed, Babylonian he thought but for the life of him he couldn’t remember it and while he was floundering like a landed fish his friends were getting hammered.
“W-Wesley?” Fred had crept up beside him and was staring worriedly through the door at her lover as he did his best to fight what he couldn’t see. “Are you going to do the spell now, ‘cos I think it would be a really good idea not to wait.”
He turned towards her helplessly and was thrown forward into her by a massive discharge of power emanating from inside the building and they both tumbled heavily to the ground, gasping as the air was driven from their lungs by the force of the blast.
“Hey, Wes?” Faith’s voice came from inside, “Whatever you did, it worked. Let’s waste ‘em, guys.”
The three warriors worked their way systematically through the minions arrayed in front of them and the young vampires, no match for such experienced fighters, melted before them. As the first rank vanished an opening appeared to one side and Wesley, Fred, and Justine slipped in, trusting the others to keep any stragglers off their backs. The second rank soon came into view and Wesley heard a shocked gasp from Justine when they appeared. He looked over at the new arrivals and with a pang realised he was looking at the remnants of Holtz’s gang, Angelus must have found their hideout and turned any who remained, they would be fierce trained fighters and an extremely useful asset.
But there was no time to be distracted; they had to get to Willow and Dawn. He grabbed Justine’s hand and started to drag her after Fred. She shook him off angrily and pulled a stake from her jacket pocket before turning towards him, her face set.
“I won’t leave them to suffer.”
He nodded, understanding her need to avenge her friends’ deaths and let her go, the two of them would have to suffice for the rescue. Taking a deep breath Wesley fervently prayed that Spike had taken care of Angelus before leading the way deeper into the lair.
After stumbling around in the dark for some time, Fred nudged him in the ribs pointing to a faint glow coming from a far wall in the main room. They crept closer, sticking to the wall until they could make out two figures, one on the floor, the other standing, arms raised and black hair whipping around its face.
“That’s them.” And it was. Dawn was lying unmoving on the ground, her arms over her head and the ethereal shape of the Witch was almost completely obscured by the magics she was using to immobilise the two minions who were standing in front of her. Releasing a stake from its holster Wesley ran forward, followed by Fred and they simultaneously plunged their weapons into the vampire’s unprotected hearts.
As the demons turned to dust Willow staggered and fell, her hair returning to its more usual red before she hit the ground. Fred was next to her in a heartbeat, checking both the girls for injuries and after a moment she looked up.
“I-I think Willow’s been bitten and she’s really weak, but apart from that I think she’s okay. Dawn’s not so good, she’s unconscious and there’s several really nasty cuts that emergency should look at.”
Wesley glanced back at the door where the sounds of fighting were continuing. “We have to get them out first. I can carry Dawn, I think. Can you wake Willow up?”
Fred shook the Witch’s shoulder hard until Willow groaned and opened her eyes.
“Wesley? What…Where?”
“Can you walk? We need to get you out of here.” She nodded and stared around blankly until Fred helped her to her feet and they set off back toward the door. Wesley gathered Dawn in his arms, grunting with the effort - she was quite a tall girl for her age - and followed them.
The battle had moved further into the lair so they were able to escape through the exit relatively easily, and as soon as they got into the open air Wesley leaned against the wall and allowed Dawn to slide gently to the ground. Wheezing slightly he turned to Fred and held out his keys.
“Take my car and get Dawn to the ER. Willow do you want to go with her or stay here. I’ll be honest with you we could probably use your help if you feel up to it.”
She nodded and Fred went to get the car. As they waited, Gunn appeared in the doorway helping Justine who was holding her arm across her chest and looked pale and pained in the poor street lighting.
“Collarbone. Hey, Willow, how’re you doing.” He grinned at them and shot back inside.
When Fred got back, they carefully laid Dawn on the back seat and Justine eased into the passenger side, while Wesley grabbed the chains and manacles from the foot well. It would never do for Fred to drive off with those; they still had a vampire to secure.
Twenty minutes later, Faith appeared at the door looking worried. “Place is clear, we’ve dusted the vamps and taken out a couple of demons he had guarding the backroom but…I think we have a problem.”
At the back of the main room where they had found Dawn and Willow was a heavy steel door of the type found on walk-in freezers, but with no outward sign of an opening mechanism. Gunn was standing nearby, a faintly disgusted look on his face and still stalking around the place was Connor, checking they had cleared the last of the minions and hangers on.
Faith stopped by the door and turned to Wesley and Willow who had followed her. “We think they’re in there and there’s no way I can bust down the door. It’s going to take explosives.”
Wesley stared at the door curiously. Spike had made no mention of such a concealed room, but if the rest of the lair had been searched he supposed they must be in there. A second later his doubts were gone as a loud roar came from the other side followed by a low keening sound.
“What the hell is going on in there, man? It sounds like they’re doing the dirty but good.”
By mutual agreement the exact details of how Spike was going to distract Angelus had remained a secret but Wesley thought, it looked as if Gunn had worked it out for himself.
“Umm…yes, well.”
“They are. Shit, I don’t believe it. I had no idea Angel batted for both teams.” The disgust was replaced by a broad grin and Wesley smiled at him a little embarrassed at the whole thing being revealed in this way. He was pretty sure Gunn was never going to let Angel live this down.
“Well, yeah, of course he does you big lunk-head.” Faith glared at him, quelling his laugh before it started. “Vampires. They don’t care what they stick it to and Spike’s family so I bet they go way back.” It seemed this slayer’s education on certain matters had been more comprehensive than Buffy’s, Wesley certainly never recalled Rupert Giles mentioning such things.
From behind them, Willow made a small noise that sounded remarkably like “Oh,” followed by a muttered, “That explains a lot and I thought it was just me.” And he remembered the alternate universe vampire Willow that he had driven away from Cordelia at the old Sunnydale High School.
“Well, I’m not sure that all vampires…”
She glared at him. “Wes, don’t be such a stuffed shirt. I’m not a kid anymore. And I’m perfectly okay with Spike and Angel having loud…” The noises started up again. “Shall we take this outside?”
By mutual agreement they hasty adjourned to the street to continue their discussion.
“How will we get in?” They were the first words Connor had said all evening and when everyone turned to stare at him, he flushed and looked at his feet.
“I could probably blast it open but not until I’ve had, like several hours sleep and pizza. Ooh, there’s this really great Pizza place Angel took us too. Do you think it’s still open?”
“Blast it open?”
“With magic. But that protection spell I did earlier, phew, it really takes a lot out of you.”
“That was you? I had no idea? Are you really that powerful?”
What a stupid question, Wesley mentally kicked himself when he remembered her black hair and eyes and the way she held the two vampires unmoving while he and Fred staked them. “Err, never mind. Do you think you can do something to secure the door until you’re recovered?”
“Don’t bother. If Connor and Faith hang on here for a few, I’ll go and get some welding gear. We’ll have that door sealed up so tight, if one of them let’s rip they’ll be smelling it for weeks.”
“And thank you for that image, Gunn.” Wesley turned to Willow. “Well then, you and I should get back to the hotel, after we’ve stopped for pizza,” Gunn went to speak again, “for everyone. And we’ll see you three when the door is welded shut, yes?”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
When the discomfort became more than he could bear and it started to twist towards agony in his limbs he tried to move away, but all to no avail. And how could it be that he can sense pain, but not feel enough to move? He can see Dru in the doorway, silhouetted against a bright light, the curves of her body glowing, throwing reflections toward him that catch in his eyes, white and blinding.
“Dru, love.” She cocks her head but does not answer. “Help me.”
A single step forward and it is no longer Dru, smaller and blonder now with whipcord strength and cruel cutting eyes that never deign to show an atom of concern.
“Buffy?” Pain of an entirely different kind screeches across his nerves and he’d rather be flayed again, a million times than see that look in her eyes, the look of fear, anger and disgust, at him, for what he has done.
And he chokes out the only thing he has to say to her, those inadequate words that can never convey the depth of what he really feels. “I-I’m sorry.”
He isn’t worthy, can never be worthy, could never ask her for help, so he lets his head drop back to the pillow and feels the wetness where his tears have already fallen, the buckets of salt he had spilled for her, and for himself, over the mess they became.
Still unmoving, mind raging against the restraints around it, darkness beckons him in, and he follows the whirlpool down toward blessed unconsciousness.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Angelus raised his bloody maw from his Childe’s throat with a grunt of annoyance; the boy was nearly gone again and would need to be fed more before his fun could continue. As he’d gorged he had listened to the words Spike muttered, his body betraying him as its blood was pulled away, the names of those he had loved and lost. Such a foolish Childe thinking he could ever be free or truly happy without his Sire, and with a Slayer, but wasn’t that what always made William such a glorious challenge, his persistent contrariness.
He ripped at a vein in his wrist and pressed it to Spike’s mouth, urging him to drink so they could return to their games. As his powerful blood started its restorative action, his Childe whimpered around his wrist and squirmed beneath him, adding to the passion he could already feel returning to his loins.
He felt glutted on Spike’s blood; full to overflowing of that tainted tasty fluid, yet somehow continued to crave more. As he felt newly strengthened fingers tightening on his arm, Angelus returned to the wound on his Childe’s neck and lapped greedily at the blood oozing sluggishly from the torn flesh. Somewhere in the distance, he was aware that the sounds of fighting had ceased but it concerned him not at all. There were minions to guard the lair, and, if they failed, he was safe here behind a solid steel door, his last line of defence the huge walk-in freezer that had been converted into his private quarters. Safe, because even a demon would have difficulties breaking into this haven.
There was also a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that there was something significant he was supposed to be doing, something about a Witch, maybe? But he buried the thought away. Nothing could be more important that what he was doing right now, what could be more vital that fucking and feeding from his Childe, it was proper vampiric behaviour, not this ending the world nonsense.
What was it about that taste? It permeated Spike’s blood, fainter than it had been several hours ago, but it was still there and he wanted more. As whimpers became fully-fledged moans he shifted his weight slightly, wanting to see how his Childe reacted this time. On the last occasion the boy had surprised him, wriggling out of his embrace and making for the door trying to escape. He’d had a great deal of fun teaching him the error of his ways, until he’d passed out again. Whatever possessed him to turn a creature with such a delicate constitution, honestly William went AWOL at the drop of a hat.
Then again, he ran his hand down the pale skin beneath him, and leaned forward to nuzzle into dark blonde curls. It was inspired of the boy to revive this incarnation of himself, it brought back so many memories of the fun and games he’d had, the days he’d spent exploring and exploiting this pliant seductive body. Happy memories indeed. Angelus lay back and closed his eyes, allowing himself to drift for a while, buoyed along by visions of the past that were so real he could almost taste them.
Spike cracked his eyes open slightly when he felt his Sire move away, and suppressed the groan that struggled to be born in his chest. He felt like shit and hurt all over, and what passed for dreams these days left him feeling worse than before. Next time, if he had what seemed like a good idea, he’d just stake himself and save anyone else the effort and himself a whole hell of a lot of pain.
The effects of the potion had started to wear off a while ago, though he had long since lost track of time as any extended period in Angelus’ company tended to do that to him and passing out hadn’t helped any. He did remember the first couple of hours being fun, when both of them were so swept up in the effects of Wesley’s potion that the outside world meant nothing. Just Angelus’ body around him, his scent and taste filling his senses, his hands on his flesh and his cock deep inside him. It had been good, very good, for a while, then the sex had stopped and the obsessive biting and drinking had started and that hadn’t been so great, after he’d lost consciousness a couple of times, from the blood loss. And that was strange, ‘cos Angelus was usually better than that, knew exactly how much to take to enhance the pleasure, or the pain, one of un-life’s experts in that realm was his Sire.
The last time Angelus had brought him round, he felt stone cold sober. And, if he’d been human, would probably have pissed himself with fear, stuck in this fortress with a psychotic Sire, who was going to work out what was going on sooner or later, and dust him for his troubles. They hadn’t considered the possibility of Angelus having a bolthole in the warehouse, one that was unassailable from outside without the use of high-grade explosives. He’d made a break for the door the moment he could escape Angelus’ embrace, but it hadn’t gotten him very far, just back on the bed and on the receiving end of a particularly brutal fuck he’d rather not dwell on.
Earlier, he recalled, there had been distinct sounds of fighting outside, followed by silence, so by now either the plan had succeeded and Willow and Dawn were safe, in which case why hadn’t someone come to rescue him, or it hadn’t. The latter scenario didn’t appeal to him in the slightest; Angelus was obviously starting to come round and, as evidenced by their last encounter, was getting more creative in his games. He really wished they’d interrupted earlier while he was still enjoying himself.
“I know you’re awake, so you can stop pretending.” Spike let out a sigh and went to turn over, unsuccessfully as it turned out, due to the cuff that attached his left wrist to his Sire.
His lifted his hand, which in turn caused Angelus’ to rise as well, and stared at their conjoined wrists in disbelief. “Hey, not fair.”
“Since when has fair got anything to do with it?” With a slow steady pull on the cuffs, Angelus dragged Spike across the bed until he was lying draped over his chest. He looked down into blue eyes that no longer contained the joie de vivre he remembered. It was the damn soul, he reflected, but a soul was corruptible, unlike the plastic and wire that had controlled his Childe before. He felt an unusual pang of sadness, tinged with fury at the humans that had crippled his boy, and dropped a simple kiss on the head resting on his chest.
Spike purred and nuzzled closer. This was more like the Angelus he remembered, an evil, game playing bastard, but his evil, game playing bastard. Once you got back into the mindset it really was very simple, expect anything, discount nothing, and you were okay. Maybe it was worth trying to worm a couple of clues out of him. “So, what’s with the cuffs, Sire?”
“You tried to escape and I couldn’t be bothered chasing you again.” The unspoken question was there. Why, having bothered to return at all, had he tried to get away?
Biting back an inappropriate ‘Duh,’ Spike scavenged his mind for an adequate explanation, settling eventually on something that sounded pretty dumb even to him.
“Bad dreams?”
Angelus’ face softened at his words and took on an introspective cast. “It’s the soul. You will be well rid of it.”
“Chip first, then the soul.” It should take a while for Angelus’ to find a way of extracting or disabling the chip, much longer than removing his hard earned soul, but at least this way, if the plan had failed, he’d actually be able to bite when he wanted to again.
“I have some ideas, some contacts. It may take a couple of weeks, but we’ll get it out.” And wasn’t that the most frustrating thing he’d heard in years. The irony of finding a way to get rid of the sodding chip now he didn’t want it gone left Spike swallowing hysterical laughter, his face buried under Angelus’ arm.
Totally misinterpreting the emotions coursing through his Childe’s mind, Angelus stroked the quivering back under his hand and muttered soothing words. As the shaking stilled he continued his movements enjoying the feel of Spike’s body against his own, and wondering if he was recovered enough for their play to continue. He slid his fingers downwards and between the cheeks of Spike’s ass, probing for his entrance, then stopped when the action elicited a slight flinch.
“Still sore?”
This time Spike didn’t bite back the obvious. “Well, duh. Not exactly gentle last time, were you.” He lifted his head and settled a glare on his Sire. “If you’d wanted to keep shagging you should have thought about it before you forgot the lube.”
Angelus raised his eyebrows questioningly, if Spike were looking for an apology he was going to be disappointed, however, there was more than one way of fixing things. He rolled them both over, then slid down the bed until he was resting between his Childe’s legs and tapped one thigh. “Pull them up. Let me see.”
As Spike did as he was told, Angelus could see why he had flinched under even the gentlest of touches. There was obvious evidence of muscle damage and splitting, and the slow seepage of blood from his Childe’s anus suggested the tender tissues inside were probably torn as well. He hadn’t been gentle, but then that had never been the purpose of the exercise, Spike shouldn’t have tried to escape from him and would think twice before doing it again.
“You’re a mess.” The blood still smelled entrancing and Angelus ran his tongue up the track it left down a pale buttock, before following it back to the source.
“Don’t complain. You made…fuck!” Spike clutched his knees to his chest, hanging on tight as instinct demanded he slam his feet flat on the bed, at the penetration of Angelus’ probing tongue. It hurt, a lot, but the saliva-slicked coolness also soothed his damaged flesh, and from experience he knew that control at this point would pay dividends later. As the penetration became deeper and wetter, and the pleasure started to outweigh the initial discomfort, he wriggled encouragingly only to let out a small moan of disappointment as his Sire pulled away.
The tongue returned moments later, slicked with what Spike correctly guessed was his Sire’s blood as the low burn, indicating rapid healing started inside him. He reached for his rapidly hardening erection, and then cursed roundly when he discovered that there was no way he could reach while his wrist was still cuffed.
“Angelus, fucking undo these.”
His Sire raised his head complacently and upon seeing Spike’s frustration his face broke into a broad smirk. “Use your other hand.”
“Bollocks, you know I can’t.”
“Then you’ll just have to wait.” Spike dropped his head back onto the pillow with a moan, and locked his right elbow round his knees, his left hand resting at his side firmly attached to Angelus’. Just why did was he doing this again? Angelus returned to his task and it all slipped into place. Ah, yes. The bastard may make him wait but when he got to come it was the best fucking feeling on the planet.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“Now that is something I could have gone my whole life without seeing.” Willow shook her head trying to clear it of the disturbing scene she had just spied on, and reached out for the glass of water that sat on the desk in front of her.
“From the look on your face, I’m certain I don’t want details, but can I assume Spike is still alive, or at least not dust.” Wesley reached for the bottle and refilled the empty glass, earning him a grimace of gratitude from the Witch sat in his chair. Her appearance was much improved since she had been rescued ten hours ago, but she still looked drawn and tired.
She nodded. “Hmm. Not dusty. He’s also still busy distracting Angel…sorry, Angelus. You know, despite everything it still seems impossible that he’s back.”
“Hopefully, not for much longer.” His watch showed it was eleven am, he wasn’t expecting Fred to return from the hospital with Dawn and Justine for several hours and in the meantime they had to work out a way of completing their plan.
“I’ve looked through my books and, from what I can see, there are no simple spells that will break through a solid steel door.”
Willow waved her glass at him, her mouth full of water, then swallowed. “Really it’s no problem. Give me another few minutes and I’ll be able to knock it down, and hold Angelus while you chain him.”
Wesley frowned at her. “Are you sure? I don’t wish to cast aspersions on your abilities as a Witch, but you’ve been through so much in the last few days and I wouldn’t like to see you over reaching yourself.”
“Believe me when I say that will not be a problem, Wesley. I’m feeling much better, I know exactly what my limits are and I am not going to go beyond them. I like the world too much for that.” The last was said with humour, but there was a darkness behind her green eyes that suggested it was far from being a joke.
He stood up, somewhat gingerly, and put a hand to the small of his back where the strain from lifting Dawn was causing no small discomfort. “I’ll tell the others to get ready then. Leave in five minutes?”
When she nodded, he turned and limped out of the room.
*~*~*~*~*~*
The concussion wave from the imploding door couldn’t have come at a less opportune moment, they’d both got to the ‘oh god’ stage, and Angelus bellowed in fury at the interruption. As he pulled away from his Childe’s body and turned to confront the intruder, the spell hit him full in the chest.
Willow stood by the door, her hair whipped by an unearthly wind as she pitched her will against the master vampire writhing on the floor. “C-chains, I can’t hold him forever.”
As Connor slipped in to the room past her, manacles in hand, Spike rolled over in the bed with a petulant pout and yanked the sheet over himself. “Bloody awful timing, pet. That’s the best shag I’d got out of him all night.”
“Get dressed.”
A bundle of clothes landed on the bed and he sorted through it quickly for his jeans, pulling them on in the improvised privacy of the bedding. “So, Wes. I’ve worked out why that vamp in your book took a walk in the sun.”
Wesley fixed him with a tolerant stare, only too aware of how unrepeatable Spike’s deduction might be in mixed company. “And that would be?”
“He was desperate for a shag, mate, that’s why. That stuff packs one hell of a punch.”
He covered his grin with his t-shirt, and had managed to recompose his face into a picture of innocence by the time it was visible again.
“Spike that was both unnecessary and gratuitous…” Wesley started, then yelped as the vampire threw himself across the room with a roar.
He spun just in time to see the stake that Connor had been aiming at his father’s chest sink into Spike’s back. The teen was bowled backward but rolled easily onto his feet, and took off through the door without a backward glance, pushing Willow roughly aside as he made his exit.
“Faith! Gunn!” There were the brief sounds of a scuffle outside then the others rushed in. They grasped the severity of the situation immediately, and quickly finished securing the chains and manacles until Angelus was firmly contained.
As they did so, Wesley sank to his knees next to Spike, thankfully not a pile of dust, and grasped the end of the stake.
“Careful, Watcher.” The vampire’s voice was strained and he was obviously in a great deal of pain. “Move that a millimetre the wrong way and you’ll be taking me home in an ashtray.”
“Shut up and let me do it, then.” He tightened his grip and painstakingly started to draw the weapon towards him and out of Spike’s back. As it slowly slid out, he could feel the edges of the wood catching against bone, and the vampire’s fisted hands turned white as he fought the urge to pull away. With a final hard yank, Wesley managed to drag it completely clear and he dropped back onto his heels, breathing hard from the exertion.
Gunn grabbed a shirt from the chair he was standing next to, handing it to Wesley without a word. He wadded it up and used it as a pressure bandage, pressing down hard on the puncture wound that gaped in Spike’s back.
“H-how long will it take to heal?” He should know this type of thing, having worked with Angel for so long, but the older vampire was almost obsessively private when it came to his injuries, allowing Cordelia to clean and bind them but never mentioning them again.
Spike tried to speak, then coughed, a little blood showing on his lips. After a beat he breathed again, this time managing to suck in enough air to talk. “That depends on whether you’ll let me have a nibble, pet.”
Wesley clouted him gently round the head, and Spike laughed then coughed again.
“We can’t do anything here. Faith? Can you and Gunn get Angelus back in the pick-up, use the body bag that’s under the seat in the convertible? I’ll reverse the car up to the door, and Willow can help me stick Spike in the trunk.
“Hey.” There was an outraged grumble from the vampire on the floor.
“It’s that or spontaneous combustion. The sun came up hours ago.”
As the others hurried to their tasks, Willow found herself helping Spike towards the door of the warehouse. They sat in the shadows waiting for Wesley to retrieve the car, the silence stretching uncomfortably between them, and she realised she hadn’t seen the vampire since…oh god, so much had happened between then and now. She felt tears welling up in her eyes, the events of the last few days, and the months before, suddenly catching up with her, and she covered her face with her hands not wanting him to see her cry.
“So, um, how’s Dawn? She okay?” It was a lousy opener, but Spike couldn’t think of anything else to say that wouldn’t lead on to all subjects Sunnydale.
“Huh?” Willow glanced up and he saw the wetness on her cheeks.
He frowned and shifted painfully towards to her, bending down to peer at her more closely. “You all right, pet? Oh hell.”
She burst out in uncontrolled sobs, the tenuous hold she had kept over her emotions finally breaking down, and he patted her gently on the shoulder. “It’ll be all right, you’ll see. Angelus will be gone soon enough, then you can go back to your mates in Sunnydale.” When his words made no impression on her tears he added, “Hey, how’s that sexy girlfriend of yours.”
Willow wrapped her arms around herself and wailed, a terrible bereft sound that made the hairs on the back of Spike’s neck stand to attention with its animalistic tone. The last time he had heard anything like it had been when Dru’s vision had told her that Angelus had left them in Romania, it was full of loss and mourning and pure, unadulterated grief. Obviously, he had asked the wrong thing and he racked his brain trying to remember if Giles had mentioned anything about the Witches when he’d been with him in England. He genuinely couldn’t remember, not that it was surprising; there were whole chunks of time missing from that little sojourn.
When Wesley pulled the convertible into the alley, Spike pulled himself to his feet with an overwhelming sense of relief. He may feel empathy with humans now, but that didn’t mean he had any more of a clue what to do for the girl weeping beside him. When the man raised a questioning eyebrow, Spike shrugged and virtually fell into the trunk as soon as Wesley opened it, hardly waiting for it to slam shut before falling asleep.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
“How is he?” Cordy wandered into the office after helping herself to a large mug of coffee, her eyes were still circled by dark shadows, and her hands shook slightly as she raised the hot drink to her mouth.
Wesley glanced up from the pile of paperwork he was pretending to study. “Downstairs. Spike’s with him. Has been since we got back.” His eyes returned to her face, immediately reflecting concern for the Seer standing in the doorway.
“More to the point, how are you?”
She answered him lightly. “Me? I’m fine, never better.”
It was such an obvious lie that Wesley found himself unable to call her on it. Memories of Cordelia concealing the severity of the visions from them still haunted him, he may not be the boss of Angel Investigations anymore, but that didn’t mean he cared any less for his friends and co-workers.
“Where are the others?” She pulled out a chair and flopped into it, exhaustion showing in her every movement.
“Willow’s still asleep. She was very weepy when we got back, I think Spike might have said something to upset her.” He pushed the papers to one side and leaned on the desk, studying Cordelia’s face for any clue as to what was going through her mind. “Fred and Gunn volunteered to take Dawn back to Sunnydale; they’ll be back later today.”
“Everybody’s all right?” When they had returned from the raid, she had only stayed long enough to check they were all alive before retreating to her room, not even waiting for the retrieval operation. That had been well over twenty four hours ago and she still looked awful.
“The usual, bumps and bruises. Nothing, when you consider what we were dealing with.”
“Connor?” Now this was going to be more difficult.
“Ah. It appears that your vision may have been trying to warn us about that particular problem.”
Her head shot up and she gave him a questioning look.
There was no point beating around the bush in this matter, she would find out sooner or later. “He tried to stake his Father.”
She lowered her eyes and pressed her hand to her forehead. “Oh god, poor kid. He’s so screwed up, Wes. And Angelus coming back must have really messed with him.”
It wasn’t the reaction he’d been expecting; anger or dismay, maybe some cutting remark, not quiet sadness, and it further indicated just how badly her human body was damaged by the visions.
“Cordelia, I don’t want to push you on this but when can we…”
She waved away his question, put her empty mug down and stood up to leave. “Later today. If you need me, I’ll be downstairs for a while.”
Wesley watched her leave the office before returning to stare at the papers, it was a pointless exercise, his mind was in too much of a whirl to concentrate on anything. Connor and Justine had vanished after the boy had turned up at the hospital and Faith had set off to search for them, having assured Wesley she was less interested in murdering the ungrateful little monster than aiding him in his search for forgiveness. The expression on her face as she left suggested forgiveness would come on the end of her fists, and it seemed a strange way to aid someone on the path to redemption, although a punch from a Slayer was hardly less painful than a slit throat and a pillow.
When everything finally calmed down, he’d made a quick phone call to Buffy to let her know her sister was okay, and that had turned into a terrible confessional where she had blamed herself for everything, up to and including Tara’s death and Willow’s attempt to destroy the world. With a sigh, Wesley stood up; sometimes he wondered whether there really was any point. It didn’t seem to matter how hard they fought; there was always something bigger and tougher waiting round the corner.
Without conscious thought he traced Cordelia’s steps toward the training room, stopping at the top of the stairs when he heard voices.
“…better this way. At least he’s quiet.”
“Not such good company?”
“Nothing I haven’t heard a hundred times before, just got bored with it is all. Plus I wasn’t going to get close enough to gag him. I like my fingers where they are.”
He shuffled forward to get a better view of the speakers, peering round the corner and down into the basement. It felt slightly dishonest, eavesdropping on their conversation, so he justified himself by remembering Cordelia’s face in the office and dwelling on her state of mind. He could see Angelus chained to the wall, his head slumped forward and even from this distance the bruises down the side of his face were obvious, Spike must have hit him very hard indeed to make him bruise that badly. The older vampire was still naked, no one had wanted to get close enough to dress him, when Willow’s spell was reversed and he immediately released his demon, snarling, snapping at anything that came too close.
Seeing him like that brought back disturbing memories of the seconds just after they had broken into Angelus’ private quarters, the two vampires momentarily taken by surprise, and the image of them together was inscribed on Wesley’s brain in a totally disturbing fashion. His mind was filled with long pale limbs entwined, starkly defined against the brilliant crimson of the bed, hard muscle against hard muscle rippling sensuously and moving relentlessly, straining toward release. Angel had been covering his Childe revealing the perfect lines of his body and honeyed tones of his skin, exposing the vast expanse of his exquisitely muscled back and flanks, the expression of impending rapture on his beautiful face only highlighted by the demon’s presence.
A sharp chill ran through him at the thought of being where Spike had been, dominated and possessed by that magnificent creature, the ecstasy of suffering contained within its immortal bloody kiss. He dragged his eyes away from the body of his erstwhile employer with a shudder and turned his attention to the other two people in the basement room.
Cordelia was sat on the only chair, one elbow leaning on her crossed legs, her eyes firmly averted from the naked form in front of her. She appeared quite relaxed, almost trance-like, as she stared off into the middle distance, their conversation having dried up. In complete contrast, Spike looked ready to run at any moment, his eyes shifting nervously between his Sire and the woman in the chair, his hands fiddling incessantly with something Wesley couldn’t identify.
“So, Wes said you had a vision about me and… um, Angelus?” Which particular insult had he decided not to use, Wesley wondered?
“Right, not that it did any good.” She indicated the only obvious sign of the stake he had taken on Angelus’ behalf, the large tear in the back of his shirt, edged with dried blood.
There was silence again, Cordelia sitting quietly and the vampire staring uncomfortably at the ground, occasionally glancing up at her. Eventually Cordelia stirred, shaking her head slightly as if coming to a decision.
“I just wanted to say I was sorry, for what I said to you in your dream.” Spike opened his mouth to protest, but she waved him silent.
“It was wrong, not what I said about you, I know I was right there. The wrongness was saying Angel was any better. I know he’s not, I-I saw a lot of things when I was…wherever I was. You, Angelus, even Darla, I saw what you were and what you became, all of you. I understood for the first time what Angel goes through everyday, and I couldn’t stand the thought of him suffering all that time only to be cast aside because the Powers would accept you instead of him. If you don’t want to go through with it, I’ll understand, I won’t - couldn’t - force you, even try to persuade you. I learned that lesson. The Powers don’t take kindly to their agents interfering in their clever plans.”
So that was why she’d been returned to the human plane, Wesley drew in a sharp breath, he’d thought she wasn’t being entirely truthful and he was right. The Powers had punished Cordelia’s attempt to safeguard Angel by casting her out, and sentencing her to death through visions her human body was not equipped to handle, it seemed an unduly harsh price to pay for trying to save a loved one. The devil may have all the best tunes but he didn’t have the monopoly on cruelty.
His thoughts were interrupted when Spike replied. “You were right though. He does deserve another chance. If I hadn’t been so bloody selfish he would never have lost his soul in the first place. It’s up to me to put it right, let him have his soul back. So long as the chip still works I’ll be safe, at least.”
“Will you miss him?”
“Angelus? Hell no,” the vampire laughed, “He wasn’t quite so nutty this time but he still wasn’t the Angelus I remember.” He paused, a thoughtful frown skittering across his face. “Or maybe it’s me that’s changed. It’s been a long time and the memories fade.”
Cordelia shook her head, “No, you’re right. I saw him as he was before. More like Angel, when he gets really mad about something or when he’s playing with someone. There’s more of Angelus in Angel than any of the others realise.”
Her words should have come as a surprise but somehow they didn’t. It was something Wesley had always suspected, whenever he saw that darker side of Angel, the glint he sometimes got in his eye, the look that had been completely missing when he’d been leaning over the hospital bed trying to end Wesley’s life. And in some ways that had made it so much worse, to know that it wasn’t the beast he had awakened but the man, that he had so enraged Angel’s soul that it was willing to bloody it’s hands with a human life to exact revenge.
It was Cordelia’s turn to laugh, a light, joyful little sound. “I remember one time, he was supposed to be apologising to Merle,” She stopped when she saw Spike’s confusion.
“A demon informant he’d beaten up to get information. Anyway, he was like, ‘I’m so sorry, Merle’ and the demon wasn’t buying it at all, because Angel’s reading it off a card and he kept on and on, and eventually he got Merle so mad he tried to hit him, in Caritas of all places. You know no demon violence and all.” When her story got no reaction, she added, “I guess you had to be there but…it was funny, and very Angelus.”
The confusion cleared on Spike’s face as if he was suddenly seeing what had eluded him before. “Yeah, I know what you’re saying. When I first ran into him in Sunnydale, he was such a miserable bastard, all broody and pining after the Slayer. Then when I came here for the ring, when you walked in on us fighting in the underground garage, he was pure Angelus that day. When he had me pinned over that car, I couldn’t decide if I wanted him to fight me or fuck me.”
“I should have fucking killed you.” The pair had been so caught up in their conversation they had missed the slight movements from Angelus as he came round. Toppling the chair to the ground behind her, Cordelia sprang to her feet and backed away, wanting to put as much distance between herself and Angelus as possible.
Spike moved in front of her protectively and hissed under his breath. “Get out of here. I’ll watch him.”
She stayed, a rabbit caught in the headlights of Angelus’ seductively smooth voice. “Cordelia, so lovely to see you again. Don’t leave on my account, I’m sure we can find lots to talk about, or something more interesting to do. Hey, here’s a thought you could do me. I’m a bit tied up but I’d love to see you down on yer knees.”
He leered at her then stared pointedly down at his stiffening erection. “What do think, lover? Fancy this big cock o’ mine down your throat?”
When she flinched away from him, he panted after her and rattled the chains, his voice purring smugly. “Ha, I thought so. I can smell you, Cordy, all hot and wet for little old me, your pussy all juicy and dripping. Unchain these and I’ll take you for the best ride of your life.”
Wrapping the shaking woman in his arms, Spike led her out of the basement, passing Wesley on the stairs without so much as a blink, all three trying to ignore the crude commentary that followed them.
No one returned to the basement. They barricaded the door and trusted that the chains would hold.