The feeding was surprisingly good in St. Stephen’s and, so long as they were careful and kept to the catacombs during the light, Angelus calculated they would be safe for several more days. Currently he was watching while Spike drank his fill from a young chorister who had wandered below, presumably searching for somewhere private to purge the tears he’d been shedding when Angelus encountered him. The child, thirteen or fourteen years of age by the looks of him, had leapt to his feet stuttering excuses and apologies when Angelus appeared from the darkness, mistaking the vampire for one of the cathedral staff. Angelus had played along, at least until he was close enough to cold-cock the boy without raising a ruckus.
Spike lifted his head when the boy stirred, putting his hand over the human’s cupid bow mouth and licking delicately over the bitter tears that sped down his cheeks.
“He’s a tasty one, Angelus. Sure you don’t want any?”
Angelus declined, still sated from the mason he had chased down the day before and devoured in the upper reaches of the north tower. Added to that was the pure enjoyment of watching Spike feed. No longer ravenous, the younger vampire took his time, worrying at the flesh and sampling blood from first one place and then another.
“I think I should turn him; what d’you reckon?”
“He’s pretty enough,” Angelus agreed, casting a lecherous eye over the pale delicate features, the frame of wavy dark hair and huge grey eyes. A little like Penn in some ways, though much younger of course. “How will you feed him?”
Spike paused, his fingers busy on the boy’s buttons. “Dunno,” he shrugged. “Just struck me we could do with a few more on our side and we’ve gotta start somewhere.”
“I don’t think that,” Angelus gestured to the slight form in Spike’s arms, “would be much use in a fight. A little more muscle would be more helpful.”
“We could always send him over to the Master. Get him to negotiate for us.”
A stupid idea, although the thought behind it wasn’t. They could, indeed, use someone to negotiate on their behalf. Steepling his fingers in front of his face, Angelus stared at the hewn wall of the catacombs, ignoring Spike as he yammered on, full of plans that didn’t stand a hope in hell of succeeding. Finally he tipped his head back and gazed at the ceiling before saying, “We need to send a letter.”
“What?”
“A letter. To London. Asking Joshua if he will come and be our go between.”
Spike shoved the dying human to one side and frowned at his mentor. “But the Master hates Joshua more than us,” he protested.
“You weren’t there,” Angelus muttered darkly. “I don’t think there’s anyone he hates more than us right now.”
“And anyway, a letter will take forever.”
“So what do you suggest, William,” Angelus snapped, his frustration finally surfacing. “That we stay down here and play at church mice until the damned clergy get suspicious? And then what? Fight our way out down the aisles? Not forgetting that only one of us will actually be doing the fighting because you’ll be too busy panicking or bawling like an infant.”
It was a nasty blow, and not totally undeserved, though it was hardly Spike’s fault he was too young and inexperienced to deal with the sheer quantity of religious materiel housed in the cathedral. Spike subsided into hurt silence, licking his metaphorical wounds, while Angelus waded his way through a series of plans for getting news of their plight to London and the only other member of the family who may be willing, and able, to help.
**
“She claims to have information, sire,” Francesco said, bowing low at the foot of the dais. Above him the Master feigned indifference, not convinced that this sycophant of Luke’s could have got more from Darla than his own punishments and blood readings. But, much as he liked to deny it, that skill had its limitations, particularly when the blood was ripe with fear or madness.
Sighing heavily, he conceded it was a possibility. “Feed them, but not well. She needs to understand the extent of my displeasure.”
“The seer has not healed from her injuries…”
“Then see that she does. The girl is of precious little use to me if she is dust.”
As Francesco left the hall, a shadow to the left of the dais stirred and another figure stepped out into the light. For a moment the tension between them was such that even a stranger would have noticed it and then the new comer dropped to one knee and bowed his head.
“Joshua,” the Master purred, graciously extending one hand for his childe to kiss. “I would love to say that you are welcome, but let us see how well you do first, shall we?”
“You honour me, sire,” Joshua replied, his eyes still downcast.
“Yes. Yes, I do. After your ridiculous behaviour you should be pathetically grateful I didn’t have you staked on sight.”
Sinking down until his head near reached the ground, Joshua bowed lower. “I am not worthy to be in your illustrious presence.”
Gratified by his childe’s show of remorse, the Master decided to be magnanimous; he could ill afford to lose another ally now. “Come and greet me properly,” he said holding out his arms.
Joshua hurried to fill them, inclining his neck so the other vampire could taste him. He was still stunned about being here and had feared that the telegram was no more than a ruse, despite the personal guarantee of indemnity it contained. It seemed that it was genuine, however. Though how his sire would react once he’d completed the blood reading was anyone’s guess.
“Interesting,” the Master said eventually, lifting his bloodied mouth from Joshua’s neck. “The creature still serves you. I had expected it long gone by now; such things rarely make good pets.”
Despite risking his sire’s wrath, Joshua could not help but defend his lover. “Nicci is not a pet, my lord. He has been everything to me since you I was banished from your court, all the family I had left.”
“Not strictly accurate. You had Angelus.”
Joshua froze. Being in London did not mean he was cut off from the news and he, like every other Aurelian, knew that Darla’s small family were now outcast. The fact that the Master brought up their pact, saw fit to place it higher than his dislike of Nicci, boded well for no one.
“What of it? I simply offered him sanctuary – a familial truce – whenever he was in London.”
“He trusts you?”
“He does.”
The Master stood and stepped down from the dais. His silence in the face of Joshua’s assertion of trust made the younger vampire even more nervous and he discovered he was cracking his knuckles.
“It was before this latest treachery, sire,” he said eventually. “If he ventured my way again, I would have to declare him fair game for his insults to the clan.”
Waving away that concern, the Master finally deigned to answer. “I need you to use that trust. The wretch has gone to ground and though my minions have scoured the city for well over a week, there is no sign of him.”
“Why me?” Joshua asked.
The Master considered this for a moment before answering, “You are an excellent hunter and negotiator. You are my childe. And if you do this for me, I will accept both you and your degenerate pet back into the Order.”
It was more than Joshua had dared hope for; to be accepted back and to have the Order’s protection for his childe as well as himself. And, as this wasn’t London, it wouldn’t even mean breaking his word to Angelus.
Concealing his glee behind a veneer of respect, he bowed low again, and said, “I will be honoured to serve you, my liege.”
***
Pieter scurried down the steps into the catacombs clutching the receipt tightly in his hand. Without that small piece of paper there would be no schilling for the errand, the foreign gentleman had told him that. When he reached the bottom, he peered into the darkness, barely able to make out the shapes of the huge stone sculptures of the blessed saints lining the walls.
“Sir?” he called out. “Herr Angelus? I have sent the telegram as you asked. May I see my papa now?”
A shadow detached itself from the wall and plucked the paper from Pieter’s hand. “Did I not say you would now, lad.”
Pieter nodded and followed closely as the gentleman strolled off into the dark catacombs. Shapes loomed up out of the gloom, terrible devils that resolved themselves into the beatific faces of the Madonna and St. Peter. Several times he stumbled on the rough floor and, as they wound further into the tunnels, Pieter miracled at the way his guide could see clearly enough to place his feet.
“Sir,” he said eventually, his voice loud in the total silence. “Where is papa working? It seems a long way down for a mason’s tasks.”
“Why, do you not trust me?” Herr Angelus stopped, his back stiff with disappointment. “And here was I thinking we were friends.”
“Oh no.” Pieter rushed to reassure. “I trust you, sir. It’s just a strange place for a man to work alone and… he’s always come home before.” This last was a little plaintive, but Pieter was scared. Vienna was a huge city and his papa was all he had.
“Well now, your father’s been doing some special work for me. Would you like to see what?”
“Yes, please.”
“Tis right here.”
Pieter pushed forward eagerly. Seeing his papa’s creations was a privilege Pieter rarely received and thus treasured, telling himself that, the moment his hands were large enough to wield a chisel, he too would become such an artist. But there was nothing but a rough stone casket.
“Please, sir, help me? I see nothing.”
“That’ll be because you’re looking in the wrong place.”
The strongly accented voice he had grown accustomed to sounded harsher, like a growl. Pieter looked up into glowing amber eyes and screamed.
**
The chains chafed Darla’s wrists and ankles as she shuffled down the corridor. She loathed them. They reminded her of London and the ones she wore as they dragged her through the streets. The crowds hurling rotten food and shit as she passed, their cries of ‘harlot’ and ‘pug’ hurting more than any of the blows that landed. It was impossible to retain her usual superior demeanour and, as she approached the entrance to the great hall, Darla found her body shrinking further in on itself, regressing back into that frightened child.
Self-consciously she tried to straighten her shoulders, only to wince as a heavy clout landed across her back and a minion snarled, “Move, woman. Our master does not like to be kept waiting.”
She bit back any retort, but took the time to memorize the idiot’s face as they walked. Soon, once she was returned to her rightful place and the Master’s favourite once more, she would have her revenge. This one would be made to beg for mercy before it was granted release.
**
Every clue he’d uncovered in the three days since he’d arrived had led him here. Joshua stared up at the towering spires of the cathedral and sighed. Holy ground may not be lethal, but that didn’t mean it was comfortable, and such places as these with their plethora of crosses and saints’ bones made his skin itch. The young fledgling beside him was faring worse; her limbs shaking and he could hear her panting as the overwhelming holiness of the place wrought its inexorable damage.
“I will return tomorrow night,” he said, having made his decision. “Dawn is too close to risk becoming trapped.”
She nodded and trailed after him as he stalked back through the streets. Joshua could smell the fear still pouring off her and growled under his breath. Why couldn’t the Master have given him someone older to guide him around the city? This one was so new, it was embarrassing.
“I will be ready to accompany you at sundown, my lord,” she said just as they reached the entrance to the lair.
He waved her away. “That won’t be necessary. Angelus will not expecting me and company will make him nervous.”
“Yes, my lord,” she said, dipping into a curtsey.
He sighed again, feeling a distinct sense of responsibility towards her. “Suzette?” he called out as she slipped inside.
She paused and turned around, her pale face gaunt in the dirty gas light. “Yes, my lord?”
“Go to my room. I will hunt and bring us both a decent meal.”
Her smile made her beautiful, and somehow an early morning hunt no longer felt like a chore.
**
Thrown to her knees in front of the dais, Darla kept her silence and her head bowed, reminding herself that her chance would come and could not be coerced.
Her empty belly rumbled loudly and the Master laughed. “Darla. They’ve been feeding you well, I see.”
Locking her gaze on the ground, Darla forced herself not to speak.
“Francesco tells me you know more than you said?”
Silence. Respectful, submissive. If necessary she could keep to her knees all night.
“You have my permission, girl. Tell me what else you know.”
Darla inhaled deeply and began to speak.
“Sire. The fault was all the boy’s; fool that he is, and a misbegotten brat at that. T’was he who allowed the babe to be stolen, taken from under his very nose whilst Angelus, Drusilla and I took on a Slayer and sent the Watchers to their hypocritical god. For the sake of the Order I had arranged a place of safe-keeping for it with a Crawfie demon, retained at my own expense. Once it was good in her possession I intended returning to your side and-”
“Enough! Do not make your crimes worse by lying now.”
Quailing beneath the lash of the Master’s tongue, Darla cast herself full length on the ground and shook, waiting for judgement to be pronounced.
“You know less than nothing, girl. Tell me, have you tasted either of these wastrels since you left Paris?”
Darla raised her head and looked askance at her sire. “No,” she said. “There was neither need nor time. And the Tyrans then became a greater priority.”
The Master waved his hand and, with a clank of chains, Drusilla was dragged into the hall.
“Taste her. Read her fully and then tell me what you see.”
After glancing at the Master, Darla rose to comply. Sinking her fangs into the girl’s extended neck, she drank deeply, using the skills her sire had taught her to see below the customary nonsense that filled Drusilla’s mind. Past dolls and daddy and horror and madness, beyond the hunger and beneath the pain, there it was, laid out for any with the gift to see, and Darla rejoiced. To save herself she’d been prepared to sacrifice them all, but now, ah now, only one of them need carry the blame. The stupid, foolish, sweet boy. His ending would free the rest of them.
“Where is he, childe?”
Darla turned, her bearing once more that of royalty, and looked her sire in the eye. “I do not know, Master. But bring him before me and I will teach him the meaning of agony before he is staked out for the dawn.”
**
“Angelus?”
There was no answer and Spike kicked himself for assuming the footsteps he’d heard belonged to friend not foe. Picking up his stake, he crept silently towards the steps alert for any sign of the vampire he’d sensed entering the crypt. There was nothing; no disturbance in the dust that hadn’t been caused by himself or Angelus, no sound other than his own breath, which he halted the moment he realised he was doing it. Maybe he was mistaken? That must be it.
He straightened, relaxing his guard, and then nearly swallowed his tongue as a hand landed heavily on his shoulder.
“William?”
Instead of the face he was expecting, Spike’s fist made contact with the stone where Joshua’s head had been.
“Fuck!” he bellowed as pain screeched up his forearm. “What d’you creep up on me for?”
“I had no intention of scaring you, Spike,” Joshua said, rising from the crouch that had rendered him safe from the other vampire’s flailing blow. “I simply wished to ascertain whether you and Angelus were alone down here.”
Spike pouted as he cradled his damaged hand, glaring at Joshua under his lashes. “A quick, ‘you chaps up for visitors’, would have done the trick. Would have hurt a bloody sight less too.”
“I’m truly sorry.” Joshua held out his hand and Spike placed his own within it, wincing as Joshua immediately straightened the fingers. “They must be set,” Joshua explained, “or they will heal crooked and you will never make a fist again.”
“Yeah, I know. Doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it though.”
Joshua smiled but kept his head down, continuing to manipulate the broken bones. If there were any chance of saving this one from the Master’s wrath, he would take Spike home to Nicci; his lover would enjoy this young one’s company again. “Is Angelus here?,” he asked instead.
“No,” Spike replied through gritted teeth. “He went out to check around.” There was a pause as Spike tried to rise on his toes above the pain of a particularly awkward break. “Say, you arrived quickly. The telegram only got sent three days ago.”
Telegram? Luckily Spike was not one to keep his thoughts to himself, so all Joshua had to do was keep his silence and allow the gaps to fill up with information.
“I told Angelus that a telegram was the best way to get you here. Course he wouldn’t bloody listen, not until I shagged some sense into him. Then he was, ‘We should send a telegram,’ like it was his idea all along. Still, damn good timing. Or were you waiting for it?”
“We had heard rumour of trouble.” Joshua was not about to deny that; he would have to be deaf and blind not to have heard about the betrayal and Angelus would know it. “So when your telegram arrived I was able to leave quickly.”
“The wonders of modern transport, huh?” Spike commented, wriggling his fingers when Joshua released his hand. “I expect in your day it was all stage coaches and caravans.”
“When I was human I tended to travel by horseback. It was quicker and more comfortable than the carriages.”
“Huh,” Spike said. “Can’t imagine any nag being more comfortable than springs and velvet.”
He started off deeper into the catacombs without a backward glance and Joshua, knowing an unspoken invitation when he saw one, followed saying, “The velvet was wonderful, however the lack of springs made the ride less than luxurious.”
“Crikey, when were you turned?”
“Seventeen ninety three. Or four. I am unsure.”
Spike grinned back over his shoulder, his eyes glowing gold in the dim light. “Getting forgetful in your dotage, old man?”
“Rather it was New Year’s Eve when the Master came for me, so I have no way of knowing whether I should consider my human death or my demon rebirth the actual date.”
Pausing next to a rough stone sarcophagus, Spike slid the top aside and delved in, retrieving what was left of his meal. The boy hung limply from his fist, mouth open and drooling. “Want a bite to eat?” he offered. “It’s a bit smelly, mind. Brat pissed himself when Angelus stuck him in with his dad.”
“Thank you, no.” Joshua didn’t quite turn up his nose at the proffered meal but he did avert his gaze when Spike sank his fangs into the grubby neck and drank deeply. He preferred his meals cleaner these days.
“What d’you mean, ‘came for you’?” Spike asked once he’d finished and stuffed the little corpse back into its tomb.
Resigned to telling at least some details of his story to the inquisitive young vampire, Joshua found a comfortable seat and said, “I was in the Bastille, scheduled to go to Madame Guillotine, when he came and offered me the choice of becoming his childe. At first I did not understand, I thought it another deceit played on an unsuspecting nobleman by those filthy sans culottes. They took great pleasure in making our every moment an agony, myself more than most being an Englishman.”
Fascinated despite himself, Spike settled next to Joshua and asked, “What was an Englishman doing in the Bastille? Thought that was all French toffs.”
“Because I was foolish enough to be caught. There was little love lost between our two nations at that time and information gathering was a vital part of the politics.”
“You were a spy?” Spike’s respect for Joshua soared and his imagination immediately began weaving tales of heroic deeds set against the backdrop of revolutionary France.
Joshua smiled. “Of a type. Though for compassion’s sake I often brought the source back to my masters rather than the information itself.”
“Compassion. Seems an odd thing for a prospective vampire. I would’ve thought being a nasty bastard was more to the Master’s taste.”
“Which just goes to prove you know nothing, boy,” Angelus said, stepping out of the shadows. “Most of us choose our companions well rather than turning the first unsuspecting idiot that crosses our path.”
Joshua rose elegantly to his feet and the two elders formally embraced, taking the opportunity to scent each other’s necks. Angelus’ lips immediately curled back over his fangs and he growled, “You dare come here stinking of the old goat? There had better be a good explanation for this affront, uncle, or I’ll be threading your innards around the sacristy.”
Unfazed, after all it was unlikely Angelus would miss the scent of his own grandsire, Joshua shrugged. “During the past year I have managed to establish my own network of spies at court, some are positioned close to the Master himself. It is undoubtedly their scent which taints my own.”
For a moment neither vampire moved; Joshua relaxed and expectant, Angelus trapped on the horns of a dilemma. The scent seemed too strong for it to be minions alone, yet it was possible and he really had very little choice. Pickings were becoming slim amongst the workforce and rumours were starting to fly. It was only a matter of time before circumstance conspired to drive them from St. Stephens.
Finally he took a step back and nodded. “Welcome, Joshua,” he said, “and my thanks for coming to our aid in such a timely manner.”
“Your telegram suggested there was great urgency, and I do have experience of being hunted by my sire.”
“Which is why you were the ideal person to send for. So, what’s your plan?”
As the two older vampires settled down for some serious discussion, much of which seemed to involve the intricacies of court politics, Spike decided to go and investigate the quiet mewling noises close to the entrance. Up until now, Angelus had been extremely generous in providing food but that didn’t mean Spike would let an opportunity to play pass him by.
It was a young girl, fourteen maybe fifteen, her hands and feet bound with strips torn from her own dress and what looked like a piece of her underwear shoved in her mouth. She was probably pretty underneath the tears and snot with luminous eyes that reminded Spike of Dru’s when Angelus was fucking her – wide and desperate - and the sight of her, bundled up and so scared made his cock twitch. God, it had been ages since he’d had a woman. He breathed, scenting the air, and that simply made things worse ‘cos she smelled like heaven itself, terror and freshly baked pastries. Angelus must have been outside to find this one.
Rather than pounce immediately, he squatted next to her, watching with interest as she tried to squirm away from his hand as it traced a slow path up her plump thigh.
“Will?”
Damn. Trust Angelus to spoil his fun. Tossing the girl a lascivious grin, Spike stood up and sauntered back . “Present and accounted for,” he said as the others came into view.
“Tell me you didn’t make this one stink,” Angelus commented.
And trust Angelus to lay the blame where it didn’t belong. Spike slumped down against the sarcophagus and growled, “She’s alright. Hardly even touched her.”
The others continued their conversation, literally over Spike’s head while Spike picked at his finger nails and tried to follow them. The general gist seemed to be using Joshua’s contacts to sneak into the Master’s lair, with Angelus as a fake prisoner, and then springing the girls and doing a runner. It seemed like a foolish plan, but then Spike knew he wasn’t the best at thinking things through.
“Spike here, will masquerade as a minion,” Joshua said dropping his hand to tangle in Spike’s hair. “There are so many that another will pass without comment, and that will mean at least two of us are free to fight if needs be.”
“If it turns into a fight then the chains had better break,” Angelus snarled, still unhappy at the idea of being restrained in any way when entering such a hazardous situation.
“They will,” Joshua assured him. “And if you do not trust me you can test them yourself before we leave.”
“You brought them?”
“Of course. I left them by the north tower. Spike, please be so kind as to fetch them for me.”
Angelus opened his mouth to speak and Spike just knew that some comment about his difficulty with crosses was going to come out. Rather than giving Angelus the chance, he leapt up saying, “Yeah, the north tower. They in a bag?”
“And wrapped in sacking,” Joshua answered, oblivious to the way Angelus’ eyebrow raised at Spike volunteering to go upstairs. Spike smirked at him and left them to it. He’d show Angelus that he was no prissy little miss.
The entrance to the catacombs opened opposite the north tower meaning he had to cross the width of the cathedral to reach his goal. Stepping over dinner, Spike started up the stairs, fists clenched at his sides as he fought to control his nerves. He had to do this, if for no other reason than he would have to walk through the building to leave with the others and he wasn’t going to end up being carried which, presumably, was how Angelus had got him downstairs in the first place. For some reason the effects of the place didn’t reach below stairs, a fact Spike wasn’t about to question as it had given them sanctuary for several days now.
When he reached the top of the steps, he paused. Even through the wooden door he could sense the holiness of the place. It made his skin itch like diffuse sunlight and, when he closed his eyes, his head spun as though he had a fever. Taking a deep breath, Spike clenched his jaw, pushed the door open and stepped out. Immediately the sensations tumbled over him, there was nowhere he could focus his eyes that didn’t contain a cross or a saint or some other religious relic, his skin throbbed, his breath burnt in his throat, and his bowels contracted.
He meant to take another step, meant to stride across the cathedral proud and self assured, he meant to be the vampire he knew he was capable of being. He actually fell to his knees, fingers scrabbling on the stone as the disorientation swept over him, ripping away every sense of self until there was nothing left but his harried demon demanding that he run and hide.
And it was that refusal to be commanded, that made Spike dig deep. Even as a human he’d never run and he was damned if he was starting now.
From his hands and knees Spike discovered that, with some effort, he could actually control the panic, it was only when he raised his head that it grew unbearable. He tried shuffling forwards, with his eyes trained on the floor and it worked, he could move without being reduced to a gibbering wreck. Well, if he had to crawl, so be it. It wouldn’t be the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last.
**
Angelus inhaled deeply, appreciating the fine taste of the cigar Joshua had given him. “I can only see one obvious flaw in this harebrained scheme of yours,” he said, and blew a smoke ring up at the ceiling when Joshua looked askance at him. “You’re taking young Will as a minion, but he reeks to high heaven of me. There’s no way he’ll pass as one of the Master’s spawn.”
“As problems go, it is one that is easily corrected.” Joshua rolled his cigar between his fingers, listening to the crackle of the tobacco. They had dried out terribly over the years in the Master’s lair but still retained some of their quality. Enough to satisfy an uncultured oaf like Angelus anyway.
Rising up on his elbows, Angelus glared over at Joshua. “If you are suggesting what I think you are…” He let the threat remain unspoken.
“It is up to you. If you are willing to allow the boy’s discovery then by all means keep him to yourself.”
Angelus subsided, grinding his teeth in frustration. This was why he hated working with other vampires; they always gave good reasons for what was no more than taking advantage. “Alright then,” he said eventually, every syllable expelled grudgingly from his mouth. “You may take him.”
“Take who?” Spike asked, waltzing around the corner swinging a cloth sack which clanked ominously.
“You look uncommonly happy, lad. And I see you managed to find the chains.”
“Of course. I’m not completely useless, Angelus. Now who is taking who? And can I watch?”
He was planning on going easy on the boy, perhaps telling him in private after his recent experience with the Master’s minions, but the back talking pushed Angelus over an edge he hadn’t realised he was treading. “You,” he snapped. “Joshua is taking you.”
Spike’s jaw dropped and the sack crashed to the floor. Wildly he looked from one to the other and, seeing only acceptance on Joshua’s face and a malicious grin on Angelus’, he began to back away. “No,” he said and then more loudly. “No, Angelus, you promised. I was yours. No one else. You promised you’d kill anyone else who touched me.”
“That was then and this is now,” Angelus answered, standing fluidly and ready to chase the second Spike took off. “And you reek of me, boy. They’ll never believe you’re one of Joshua’s.”
Surprisingly, Spike didn’t run. His shoulders sagged and his chin sank onto his chest, and Angelus could see the tremble in his hands as he bent to retrieve the chains and held them out. Was it a request to be restrained? Angelus couldn’t fathom until Spike said the words.
“You’d better use these then, ‘cos, honestly, I’ll probably fight him.”
From the corner of his eye, Angelus spotted Joshua’s sharp shake of the head. True to form, his uncle found the idea of taking another vampire against their will repellent, leaving Angelus with the tricky proposition of talking Spike into complying and, by the looks of the belligerent expression on the younger vampire’s face, it wouldn’t be easy. Maybe if they shared him? There were certainly ways of keeping Spike busy so he’d hardly notice being fucked.
Hoping that Joshua would take the hint, Angelus reached out and snagged Spike’s coat, dragging him forwards until they were chest to chest. Spike stared up at him, eyes like walls hiding every vulnerability behind their icy surface. It was a mindset Angelus was more than familiar with and knew precisely how to destroy. A simple kiss would do the trick.
It did. After a moment’s resistance, Spike’s mouth blossomed under his own, opening and welcoming him home. That slight body melted against his own and hands grasped his arms, fingers tightening and loosening in time with Angelus’ tongue as it caressed and explored. Another pair of hands – had to be Joshua’s, as Angelus’ were tangled in Spike’s hair and coat respectively – slid between them, deftly opening buttons and releasing suspenders. Shirts tugged over their heads enforced the briefest of separations, but then it was skin on skin and Angelus couldn’t resist hunting down a nipple to scratch and tease until Spike writhed against him, torn between too much and not enough.
He knew the moment Spike was breached. The kiss ended, Spike dragging his mouth away and panting, staring up at Angelus with eyes wide and flashing gold. Angelus sought to distract him; a hand around a hardened length, slow pumping, a thumb brushing, and the gold faded, replaced with scorching violent blue and “Fuck,” whispered into the stagnant air.
It was cock to cock then, Angelus fighting to keep a rhythm that Joshua’s thrusts foiled at every turn. Finally he gave up; it was too distracting. He pressed a hand to Spike’s shoulder and, obedient boy that he was, Spike dropped to his knees taking Joshua with him.
This was more like it, Angelus thought, as Spike’s mouth fastened around him and drew him in. Someone else may be taking his property, but at least Angelus was the only one standing, lording it over the both of them. Their relative positions were not lost on Joshua either, judging by the expression of blank acceptance on his face when Angelus met his eye. And that was all well and good.
Reassured his status was no longer under threat, Angelus was free to enjoy his boy’s attentions. The tongue wrapping around him was driving him slowly insane, so he upped the pace, holding Spike still as he thrust hard into that wanton hungry mouth and used his fingers to stroke cheeks cast into yawning shadow through suction. Spike’s nails burned his thighs, gripping tightly to avoid skidding as Joshua drove him forwards and there was a moment’s confusion until they hit a rhythm that suited them all.
Joshua reached his climax first, throwing his head back, his hair, darkened with sweat, sticking to his face and his mouth an open rictus of pleasure. The burst of sex scent was enough to send Angelus into a fury, ramming himself into Spike’s gulping throat and spilling so deep that not a trace of him remained.
Spike collapsed between them. His own hand, now freed from any other task, wrapped around his cock pumping desperately until Joshua reached for him and replaced the hand with his mouth. Angelus gaped. Never in a month of Sundays would he consider doing such a thing, at least not just so that Spike would get pleasure from it. And there was no other reason for Joshua to do so. From where he stood Angelus could easily smell Joshua’s scent all over his charge, drowning Angelus’ own until it would pass as coming from casual contact. Why then was Joshua doing this?
Spike certainly seemed to be enjoying it. The air was fair scorched with the curses falling from his lips and his hips gyrated, contesting the hold Joshua had on him. His eyes fluttered, only the whites visible, and his hands clawed into fists against the dirty stone. His breath whistled in and out, and Angelus wanted to smack him for being so wanton under another’s touch when this reaction should be for Angelus and Angelus alone.
Somehow it was even more insulting that, when he came, back arching and chest heaving, it was Angelus’ name Spike screamed.