Reversed Roles 5: Trials and Mistrials
Series: Reversed Roles
Author: Shara Nesu
Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. Please - comments welcome about ideas for future episodes or anything!
Archived: Shara's place:
http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone it all belongs to Joss etc. Who obviously has no idea who Angel really belongs to... Spike!
Spoilers: Totally AU now (some references to Angel season 2)
Category/Pairings: Spike/Angel
Rating: NC17 Warning: M&M Sex (All the way!)
Distribution: Want, Have, Take.
Summery: Angel is having a hard time dealing with the events of RR4. Then Wolfram and Hart step in and that really stirs up trouble and heartache for the whole AI crew.
Note: This story makes reference to a new part of RR, which is still being written. It’s just really the end of season 2 set in the RR Universe. The whole Plyean incident and the arrival of Fred.
Reversed Roles 5: Trials and Mistrials
By Shara Nesu
Angel’s POV:
Jealousy. It’s a destructive emotion. It’s overwhelming and controlling. It’s a force that cannot be contained. Jealousy is a passion that burns deep within you, and most of the time you never even realise it’s there. Then sometimes you might just suddenly comprehend why you hate all those around you. Why you cringe at their smiles and welcomes. Why you feel like cutting your heart out and never feeling again.
Jealousy is an emotion that you cannot control. No... that *I* can’t seem to control. Every day it burns within me. Every day, I look across at my sire and the pain deepens. *Every single day*, do I wonder when he’s going to leave me. When the next pretty face or red headed girl with will turn his attention away from me. When the next female body will appeal to him, and beg him to answer the call of her wet slick passage. The call of attributes and orifices I don’t have. I keep asking myself - Is today the day he’s going to leave me?
“Angel! Are you deaf!” yells Cordelia the top of her voice. “I keep asking where you filed the Morrison case. What the hell is wrong with you?” She shoves past me and goes into Wesley’s inner office. I look across the lobby from the front desk and return my stare at to Spike talking with Fred.
She’s a strange young girl, but incredibly intelligent. She’s been away for a while - visiting her parents in Texas. She missed the whole Willow incident, thank god, and doesn’t know what I did. That I killed Lilah Morgan. She still believes me to be a hero. I saved her in Plyea, and she took care of Spike and I. Maybe that’s why she finds it easy to talk to us. When she returned from that dimension she locked herself away for weeks on end, and only communicating with Spike or I. She’s become a part of the team... now she’s another woman I have to be jealous of.
No! I shake my head, ripping my eyes away from my friend and Sire. That’s all they are doing - talking - nothing more! I just wish my heart would understand that.
“Angel!” Cordelia yells again, “How can you not hear me with vampire hearing?! Will you get your ass...”
Ah, yes, then there are all these other emotions. All the anger, hatred, pain, suffering and inconceivable guilt. So many negative emotions fill my heart and I feel as if I am drowning inside my own mind. Thoughts and feelings that I can’t share with anyone. They hate me. My friends. I know that. I see it in their eyes. They don’t - can’t - trust me anymore. They look at me and wonder when I’m going to crack again. Wondering if they are going to be my next dinner. They are always making me do things, always fluttering around me; they never leave me alone with my thoughts. Then when I am, they always appear and start asking if there is anything that I want to talk about. I know what they want to know; can I control the bloodlust? Can I avoid turning them into a meal? Why the hell can’t they leave me alone? I’m drowning inside, can’t they see that? Can’t they see I need...
I don’t know what I need. I don’t know how to deal with this pain that burns away my soul. The guilt and misery from Angelus’s crimes felt so different to this. No! This is different. I’m different!
Oh lord, I killed someone. Not the demon, me the soul! I committed the greatest sin. I, the soul of an Irish Roman Catholic. I murdered someone, because I wanted to. I don’t care what my sire says. I could have found another way. I could have done something else apart from biting her. I could have... I feel Cordelia’s eyes on me, watching, waiting for me to fall apart. My temper flares and my eyes blaze golden.
“You know what Cordelia? Why don’t *you* go look for the fucking file. Just open the friggin’ filing cabinet, look under M, and maybe even with your limited intelligence, you can find it. It will be listed after MO, surely you can manage that!”
“What bug crawled up your...”
“What the fuck do you want from me?!” I scream at her, “What am I? Your little puppy dog? I’m a fucking vampire not a filing clerk, look it up!”
“Angel, I know...” Cordelia starts, her eyes wide with amazement at my outburst.
“You know? You don’t know fuck all. You’re a fucking child, that can’t act and...”
“Angel!” my sire yells, his voice hard and commanding.
“Spike, stay out of this!” I bellow back at him, turning to face Cordelia. Her eyes are wet with unshed tears, and her hand trembles.
“Angel, don’t you dare say another word,” Spike warns, coming over from the couch.
Without even realising it, I snarl and shift into game face. My body trembles with anger. An anger I don’t understand, but it fuels my fear and jealousy. Spike is siding with them. He’s turning against me! He’s already set his sights on someone else, he’s moving on, he‘s... No! Stop! I have to think straight.
“Spike, stay the fuck out of this!” I growl back at him.
“Angel, you know the rules about swearing,” he scolds, a slight smile gracing his face. He’s trying to break the tension, but I won’t let him overpower me. I won’t allow him this control over me. Locking me away so I don’t see what’s happening behind my back. He’s already leaving me. I bet he’is screwing Fred. Maybe that’s why they talk a lot. Maybe that’s why she left ...to think about his proposal too...
“No!” I yell, not realising I’ve spoken out loud.
“Angel?” Cordelia asks, her hand reaching out to touch me... calm me.
I just can’t take this fear, this soul wrenching pain anymore! For weeks now since Willow left, since Lilah, the pain grows within me. It burns its way into my soul, contaminating it. Damning it.
“Leave me alone!” I scream, pushing them all away, and running towards the basement. Spike tries to catch me, but I avoid him and slam the door locked behind me. I don’t look back, just run out through the sewers and away from my family.
Spike’s POV:
Things are getting worse. No... Angel is getting worse. The others realise that too. I mean it’s hard to miss. He’s got us all walking around on broken glass, afraid of saying the wrong thing, but always managing to do so. In the last few weeks, he’s become totally unmanageable. Whatever it is eating him up inside he won’t share. Not with his friends and from the way he acts - certainly not with me. In fact, it looks like I have become the bad guy. Every hour of everyday he watches me, studies me, spies on me. He’ll stare for hours, but not once would he ever talk to me. I miss our conversations - I miss him.
“Spike?” Cordelia asks softly, “you think this is because of Li... The whole Willow incident thing?”
Well, yeah! Still, it’s not that what she’s asking. She’s wondering if Angel has finally fallen apart over killing a human. If it has finally hit him, and if this is how he’s not dealing with it. The truth is I don’t know. I think there is something more. I don’t think that Lilah’s death has even begun to really effect him. I’m terrified to see what he’ll do then. I’m petrified that the humans will fear him, and that will drive him even further away. I’m fearful that Angel will be driven over the edge from this... incident. That his soul won’t ever accept what he’s done. Is this the start of that insanity? His mood swings, his aggression, his fears?
“I don’t know, pet. He won’t talk to me,” I answer sadly. I can’t find any witty comebacks. I don’t know how to handle Angel. What do I, a demon, know of guilt and redemption? How can I help him, when I don’t feel what he does? At this moment I’ve never felt so distant from my Childe as I do now. I can’t understand him, and I can’t help him. It feels like all I can do is watch him crumble away piece by piece, until there will be nothing of my Angel left.
Later:
It’s almost dawn when I hear Angel’s soft step enter the bedroom. He’s been missing for over 14 hours. The girls have been paging him over and over, while trying his cell phone and he’s answered to neither. I’m angry at his actions, but at the same time attempting to be sympathetic. I’m trying to understand what he might be feeling. I try to give him space or comfort. Nothing has helped so far. Every day, he runs further and further away from me. He’s drifting away from my love, my friendship and he’s not trying to fight back. He’s losing himself to his misery and I can’t seem to change that.
I hate souls at this moment. I despise human emotions. Why can’t things be simple? Why can’t it be hunt, kill, feed and then fantastic shagging with your family after? I can tell you one thing; my patience is wearing thin. I can’t take this much longer; soon one of us will crack. I want my Angel back. I want sex in the afternoon, shared kisses in the back seat of the theatre, and I want to punish him when he *accidentally* breaks my rules - in all - I want my Childe back!
I hold my temper in check, and silently await my Childe’s next action. As he comes nearer I can smell the deep odour of whiskey sticking to his skin. Also a whiff of cheap aftershave. Certainly not the type he uses. I watch as he hobbles slightly and I realise that he’s drunk. Drunk Angel is a situation I never wanted to face again. It brings back to many memories of how the whole fucking problem started. Still, I keep my calm, and remain quite as he strips off his clothing and falls onto the bed. He gives a huge sigh, buries his head into his arm and doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t come near me either. Another sigh and he turns over, facing away, and curls into a ball.
Okay, keep calm. Angel never sleeps like this. He always wraps himself into my embrace. He has to touch me some way or other. I feel my temper raising, but I hold it in check.
“Angel?” I whisper.
Another sigh from my Childe, and after a moment he flings himself onto his back. “Fine, just fucking do it!” he snarls at me.
“Huh?” I reach out and touch his face, his smooth human face. “Do what? What...”
“Just get on and fuck me, Spike! Do what ever you want, then leave me the hell alone!” he growls in reply, his eyes turning golden with his anger.
I bite my tongue and attempt to keep calm. “Stop swearing, Angel. I don’t want to do anything; I just wanted you to...”
“What? Suck you off? A good hand job?”
“Angel, let me finish a sodding sentence!” Okay, my temper is fraying a little.
“Fine!” he yells. Angel spreads his legs, and shoves two fingers into his ass. He grimaces as he pistons them in and out, and I smell blood coating his fingers.
“Childe, what the fuck are you doing?!” I holler, making a grab for his hand, and attempting to stop this nonsense.
His leg kicks me away, and he adds two more fingers. He moans in pain as more blood stains the clean sheets. His body trembles as he moves, and from the way his cock hangs limply between his legs, he’s not enjoying this. So what the hell is he doing?
“Angel, stop this!” I cry as my eyes burn with tears I won‘t shed. Exasperation rages within me, but it’s now mixed with distress. I make to grab him again, and his leg kicks out. This time I’m ready and I catch him. With one hand I hold his leg down, and snare his blood coated hand. Angel snarls and twists, trying to free himself which causes him even more pain. The smell of blood is strong and I know he’s done damage.
“Angel!” I snarl, using that sire’s tone. “Stop!”
Suddenly, as if all the fight has been drained from him, my Childe drops back limply on the bed. With the immediate danger over, my temper flares.
“What the fuck are you doing? Huh? What’s this? Why the hell... Childe?”
Huge sobs wrack my Childe’s form and he curls into a foetal position on the bed. His blood coats his thighs and buttocks, running down his legs. Something tears deep within me and I gently touch his trembling arm. He jerks away from me as if burned, but I won’t let him. I move up the bed, and lift him into my arms. He tires to stop me, but I do something I’ve hardly ever done. I start to purr. The effect is almost immediate - my Childe calms automatically at the sound of his sire’s purr. I wrap my arms around him, and comfort him as he weeps brokenly into my chest. Inside, my demon rages against my Childe’s behaviour. It’s unbefitting a vampire to act like this. Demons don’t have this depth of emotion. They don’t grieve and they certainly don’t abuse themselves as Angel did. In my heart I think Angel’s soul is dying. I think I’m losing him.
“Sire,” he gasps between sobs, “what’s happening to me?”
“I don’t know, Childe,” I answer, stroking his dark hair, “I don’t know.”
The next morning I leave Angel asleep in our bed, and recovering from his self-inflicted injuries. His ass was sore and bleeding, but I’ve cleaned it and fed him my blood so he should be healed by the end of the day. The question is - will he do it again? I need answers, and the only people I can turn to are his human pets. They have souls, therefore, they should be able help me.
When I arrive downstairs, I’m greeted by complete shock. Okay, I know I never get up this early, but the open-mouthed gazes are a little over the top. Cordelia is the first to recover and approaches me holding out a cup of coffee.
“Morning. Did Angel come home last night?” she asks, getting directly to the point.
“Yeah, he came home drunk, and...” should I tell them?
“Something’s wrong with him,” Fred mumbles to herself, “there wasn’t enough noise last night...” She suddenly shuts up as she realised what she had said.
Hey, we’re not that loud! Still, she’s right. Something is wrong with Angel.
“Angel’s fallen off the tree, hasn’t he?” Fred wrings her hands in concern, while looking up the stairs towards our current problem.
“He’s gone psycho?” Cordelia exclaims, looking with extreme concern up the stairs.
“No!” I snap back, “he’s...” I sigh. “He’s in pain. I don’t know! He’s suffering with guilt, grief or something. Maybe all three. Whatever it is it’s getting worse...”
“What did he do?” For the first time I notice Wesley standing by his office door. His face looks concerned and there is a flicker of knowledge in his intelligent eyes.
“He... he hurt himself...but, he doesn’t know why,” I mumble. I hate this bloody emotional stuff. I loathe having to ask *them* for help. Angel is my Childe, and I should be the one to care for him.
“I think Angel might be suffering from Post-traumatic stress. It would explain a lot of his symptoms. The mood swings, the short temper, the violence, and now the self-abuse. I don’t think Angel can deal with his guilt.”
“Oh come on, Wesley. This is Angel we are talking about. You know tall, broody, guilt ridden guy. Hasn’t he lived with remorse for well over a century now? Then it’s just one death, Angelus committed hundreds and thousands of murders.”
“Cordelia, this is different. Angel is... was an innocent soul. Now that soul has killed, he has fed on a living human being and took her life. This isn’t anything like Angelus’ memories. To him, his soul has been defiled and he can’t accept that reality.”
“That’s not the only thing he’s going to have to face.”
What the fuck?
“Lindsey?” I swing around and standing at the door is that effin’ Wolfram and Hart lawyer, Lindsey MacDonald. He’s got four huge security men flanking him, but it’s not going to be enough. I’ll rip his... wait, can’t do that - Bloody chip!
“What the fuck do you want?” I snarl at him, morphing into game face.
“Me, nothing. I’m just here to enjoy the view.”
“Lindsey, what are you going on about?” bitches Cordelia, all of the tough Queen Cordy coming though. Yep, I like *her*. No one messes with the Queen Bitch from Sunnydale.
“Can I have everyone’s attention!?”
We all turn to the door to be confronted with a line of policemen. Before them stands Detective Kate Lockley, who is holding up her badge. Suddenly, Cordelia appears and nudges my arm. I realise I’m still in game face. I morph back, and glare at the despised woman before us. She’s almost as bad as the bloody lawyers are. All high and mighty, not having a clue what she’s going on about.
“Detective Lockley, how can we help you?” Wesley asks sweetly, with a slight condemning undertone.
Lockley ignores him and pulls out a large official form. “I have a warrant here for the arrest of Angel Jones, for the murder of Lilah Morgan. You are advised to remain calm and allow my officers to carry out the arrest.”
“You can’t arrest, Angel!” Fred yells, blocking the first officer to move forward. “You’ll hurt him!”
“Fred, now’s not the best time,” whispers Cordelia into her ear as she draws her out of the way.
“Detective Lockley, you know about... err... Angels’ situation. You can’t take him out like this,” Wesley informs her, his eyes flicking over to the sunlight just beyond the doors.
“Don’t worry, Mr Wydham-Pryce. I know about Angel’s allergy to the sun. I’ve made the proper precautions. I have a blacked out police car waiting for us around the back.”
“Now, I suggest you let us continue with our business,” Kate shoves by Wesley, and starts towards the stairs.
With a movement faster than anyone can see, I place myself before her. “I can’t let you take him,” I snarl, my eyes flashing golden.
“You can’t stop me, Mr Bloody,” she smiles, and I realise someone has filled her in about my name and past. I bet the cold bitch even knows about the chip, and how I can’t stop these bloody humans from taking my Childe. “Don’t worry everything is already in hand.”
From behind me, I hear the sound of a struggle, and we all turn to see Angel being dragged down the stairs by a couple of strong-armed guards. Not the police, but Wolfram and Hart’s bully boys. There are burns on Angels’ arms, and his steps are sloppy. Bastards used shock guns, and I just bet he’s been tranquillised as well. They’ve dressed him in jeans and T-shirt, and I notice he’s still limping on one side. My demon immediately reacts to the threat to my Childe.
“Let him go!” I snarl at them, my face changing. There is a sudden click as half a dozen guns are drawn, cocked and aimed in my direction. My body tenses, but I know they can’t harm me. The only one’s I have to worry about are Wolfram and Hart’s people, they know I’m a vampire. I snarl louder and approach Angel.
“Spike!” Wesley yells, his voice tense and apprehensive.
Shit! I’d forgotten about the bloody humans. I might not die from bullets, but if they are caught in the crossfire, they can. Damn it!
I snarl again, this time at Lindsey and then... take a step back. “Fine!” I growl, as my face returns back to normal. My eyes never leave my Childe. They remember his form, and his injuries. I’m making a list and I will replay everything that’s done to him a hundred fold. Even if it’s against the humans - I’ll find a way.
“Kate! Please, don’t do this!” Cordelia cries, as she comforts Fred in her arms. Wesley moves beside her, and rests a hand on her shoulder.
Kate turns to face us, her face filled with a look of satisfaction. “Angelus is a killer, he’s always been a killer and now he’s going to pay.”
“Destroying Angel won’t bring your father back,” I snarl at her.
Kate doesn’t answer, just turns on her heel and walks out. I can only stare as the burly guards drag my Childe away from me. His dazed eyes catch mine, and I’ve never seen such terror before in my Angel. His whole body radiates it. I gaze into his eyes and I know what I see there - dread but also acceptance. Acceptance because he knows what he’s done, and he wants them to punish him.
“Angel!” Cordelia cries, her voice betraying the pain I’m feeling, too. Pain, I won’t show before these humans. Pain, I’ll return upon them.
“Sire...” Angel moans softly. His fingers reach out for me, but I am powerless. I can’t touch him, I can only watch as they haul him away towards the back entrance. Seconds later, my Childe vanishes from my sight and I feel as though I’m broken inside.
Angel’s POV:
My body aches and the holy water dipped handcuffs burn around my wrists. After being taken from my hotel, I was shoved inside a large blacked out police van, and was surrounded by policemen with guns. I know they can’t hurt me with bullets, but I can’t escape. They have the most perfect timing. It’s high noon, the sun is at its strongest and I have no cover. I’m only dressed in T-shirt and jeans, if I try to escape I’d be burned to a crisp in seconds. The thought has passed though my mind - suicide. But somewhere deep inside - I still want to live. I don’t want to damn my soul even more than I’ve already have done.
This is not how I expected today to turn out. Dawn was bad enough with the self-abuse, and the tears, and Spike holding me as if he really cared. I know it was a show because then he left me. I wondered if he’d gone to Fred’s bed since I haven’t given him any release lately. In fact, I can’t remember the last time he touched me. It must be over two weeks now. Am I that dirty? His rules say he wants me everyday. I guess he’s tired of me and has moved on. I remember when Angelus got bored with Spike, not long after he was turned. Angelus moved on to other men and women, only going to Spike when he couldn’t find anyone else. I wonder if that is my destiny. The whore that spreads his legs for his master.
Suddenly around noon, Wolfram and Hart arrived. They burst into our rooms, and pulled me from the bed. I never heard them; I was lost inside the memories and the pain. I was foolish and let them surprise me. They pulled my naked body from the bed, stunned me with tazers and then slammed the handcuffs around my wrists. I had tried to break them, only to scream in pain as the holy water burned me. Their strong warm hands shoved me to the floor, and I felt a needle being inserted into my neck. A wave of nausea hit me and the whole room swayed. Fighting was impossible after that, my eyes wouldn’t focus and I could only move limply as they dressed me. Their hands were rough, touching me in places where only Spike had been.
Afterwards, I was dragged down the stairs, away from my family and into this van. Before I was taken away, I swear that Spike’s face was filled with pain at being unable to save me. Still, maybe he wanted to fuck me, and I’m now indisposed.
We arrive at the police precinct, via the underground car park, and then I was taken up into the holding cells. I’m booked in for first- degree murder, and dragged into a cell with this huge biker. For the first hour he tried it on. When I bit him and kicked him in the balls, he left me alone. Four hours later, I had my first visitor. Kate came down, stared at me through the bars, and then smiled. She never said a word, but I can understand how she feels. I’m a murderer and I’m where I should be.
It was now 12 hours since I arrived and no one else has come. I had expected Spike, or one of the others. I guess they believe I belong here too. It’s night when the police come for me again. It’s not what I expected. They barge into the cell, stick another needle into my arm and seconds later sleep takes me.
Wesley’s POV:
Bloody American Police! I’ve decided I’ve seen enough of the justice system here in the US. I’ve witnessed lawyers from hell, and now this. I’ve been sitting in the godforsaken place for nearly 11 hours. Spike was having a heart attack (which I didn’t think was possible for a vampire,) after they arrested Angel. He even tried to follow, but Cordelia and I restrained him. I offered to help, so here I am. Here I am filling out bloody forms, arguing with Kate and not seeing a glimpse of Angel.
“Kate!” I yell, catching sight of the blond detective again. I’ve decided not to put up with any more of this. This time I’m making a stand.
“Wesley, I’m just coming to see you,” she replies.
At last something is happening. Maybe now I’ll get to see Angel and I’ll have him cleared of this stupid charge. “I have news,” her face changes and she acts serious, “unfortunately the prisoner you wanted to see has developed an unexpected illness, and died only a few minutes ago.” She coolly sits down and opens a file before her. There is a picture of Angel, she gazes at it a moment, closes the file, and then puts it on her ‘out’ tray.
“What...?” I mumble. I think I’m going into shock. Has Kate killed Angel? Has she dusted him? Oh, good grief, what am I going to tell Spike? How can I tell him his beloved Childe is dead? How can I tell Cordelia, Fred and Gunn? Angel is their... our friend. He’s saved all our lives on more than one occasion and this how he ends? To die in a jail cell for a crime he really cannot be held responsible for? My hand trembles, but I stand straight and stare the woman down.
“You killed him,” I hiss at her, “You killed a good man, a man that saved your life...”
“A demon died,” she answers, “nothing more. He’s where he should have been 250 years ago. Now, if you will excuse me I have real people to help.”
She curtly stands up and walks away from me. I’m in too much shock to really do anything, and then the question is what can I really do? Scream and shout at her killing my vampire friend? I pick up my coat, and walk back to Angel’s... what was once Angel’s covetable, trying to figure out what the hell I’m going to say to my friends, to Spike.
When I arrive back at the Hyperion, I discover Cordelia and Fred filling Gunn in about all what’s been happening. I can hear him try and calm the girls down, and telling them it’s going to be fine. They can’t arrest Angel. He’s dead, legally a non-person and all that. I swallow hard and step out into their line of view.
“Wesley!” Cordelia calls, immediately running up to me. “Where’s Angel? Didn’t they let him out? Is he looking for Spike? Is he...”
“Cordelia,” I say softly, resting my hands on her shoulders.
“They didn’t let him out, did they? Do they need bail? We can get some money. I can call David Nesbitt, I’ll do it now,” her voice is slowly cracking, and her eyes filling with tears.
“Cordelia,” I try again.
“No!” she cries, shoving me away, “No! You can’t say it! You can’t even think that. Angel’s not... he’s not...” she stamps her foot, as she angrily wipes away her tears. “He’s not dead, Wesley! He’s not!” she screams, and collapses onto the floor in sobs. She repeats those words over and over, and I can’t say she’s wrong. Instead, I just get down on the floor and hold her through the worse of it.
“Wesley... is that... true?” Fred asks, stuttering in alarm.
“Wesley-man, you can’t mean to tell me that Angel, the great champion is dead? He’s not… right?” Gunn inquires trying to not believe what Cordelia has already worked out from the look on my face. “They’ve just kept him there, haven’t they? That’s all...”
“Kate wouldn’t let me see him. She kept me filling out forms, and just about 30 minutes ago she informed me that Angel suffered a medical emergency and died. In other words he’s been dusted. She was quite pleased with the outcome,” I add with venom in my voice. Bloody bitch, I growl inside my mind... damn, I’ve been spending too much time around Spike!
Oh good grief, Spike!
I turn my eyes up the stairs and towards their apartment. To my total surprise there is Spike standing on the landing, having overheard all I’ve told the others. I didn’t want it like this; I wanted to tell him in private that his Childe is gone.
“Spike...” I call.
“No!” he yells, his face changing. His fangs elongate, eyes turning golden, but this time his face seems even fiercer than I’ve ever seen. Even with the tears that burn his eyes and flow down his cheeks. “NO! NO! NO! My Childe isn’t fucking dead! Angel’s mine! Mine!” he wails as he tears down the stairs, and proceeds to destroy everything in his path.
“Mine! My Childe! Angel!” he continues to yell, his voice cracking as furniture breaks and flies in all directions. Sofa foam fills the air like snowflakes. Glass smashes against the floor. Blood falls from his lacerated hands, but he doesn’t stop. None of us can... will stop him. He’s acting out what we are all feeling. But for him it’s more. He’s lost a Childe, but Angel is of considerably greater importance to him. He’ll never say, he’ll never admit, but Angel is... was his lover, and his reason for being. Without his Childe in his life, I have no idea what shall become off this grieving demon.
“Angel is not dead!” he cries, tearing though paperwork and making confetti. “I would have known! I would have felt something. He’s not fucking dead! Not dead! Anngggeelllll!” he howls, his body finally collapsing onto the hard floor, his voice descending into sobs.
I know in time we will never speak of this. Spike will deny that he broke at the news of his Childe’s death. He’ll deny he wept like a baby in Fred’s arms, calling for his lover, unbelieving that Angel is gone forever. Silence falls over the Hyperion; there are no words left to say only grief and pain. With Angel’s death, it’s the end of his dreams. The warrior for the Powers is gone, and I don’t have the strength to fight anymore. I wrap my arms around Cordelia and join her in grief.
Angel’s POV:
When I awaken it’s certainly not in the same cell I was in before. No, this is bright and white. I mean really white. White walls, white ceiling, white floors, white door... so white and bright it makes me squint to look around. Fortunately, there is nothing to look at. The room is bare, not a bed or anything. Just me lying... oh, naked... on the floor. Naked, with something attached to my head. I attentively reach up and touch the metallic object.
“Fuck!” I yell as pain shoots through my body, sending it into spasms. I quickly withdraw my hand, and lie still as the pain passes and fades. Instead of touching, I try to concentrate on the area. It feels numb, like it has been frozen with anaesthetic. It kinda feels a little hollow - like something is missing. I feel around the edge, and my fingers come away bloodied. Oh great, now they’ve drilled into my head and implanted some sort of pain device. What next?!
Wait a minute. Isn’t that a little technologically advanced for the LAPD? They don’t have cells like this; they certainly don’t operate on vampires. Where the hell am I? When is Spike... oh shit? They injected me with something. What if the police think I’m dead? I don’t breathe when I’m unconscious. Surely then I’d be in the morgue or...
“Hello Angel, I hope you’re comfortable.”
Or taken by Wolfram and Hart.
“No, I’d be a lot more comfortable with this fucking thing of my head!” I snap back.
“That’s just insurance for us. We are but fragile humans beings, and with you having the strength of a 250-year-old vampire, we do need a little advantage. It will not cause any long lasting neuro- damage. It creates just enough electrical feedback to make you containable.”
“What do you want from me? I can’t give you anything; I’m not Angelus.”
“We know that Angel, but our oracles still say that your position at the end of days has yet to be determined.”
“I prevented that; we saved the girl...”
“That was just one of the prophesied apocalypses. Do you think there is just one? You yourself have saved the world 3 times. With this prophecy everything is going according to plan. You were a vampire; you redeemed yourself, was turned human and then changed back into the undead. Now everything rests on the corruption of your soul. With that the end of days shall begin.”
“What do you mean?” I ask slowly, not understanding his words. My soul is already damned. I killed a human. I took human blood and a life. I’m already corrupted.
“That’s why you are here. We are going to see what it takes to destroy your soul. So far your friends and sire have protected you. You have resisted all attempts to change you. Angelus is gone, and your soul is pure. You will have a long few days ahead of you Angel, I suggest you rest while you can. After that I’m sure the pain will prevent any sleep.”
With that the voice goes silent. And so do my hopes.
Spike’s POV:
My Childe is not dead. I refuse to accept Wesley’s words. I won’t let them believe it either. Angel is alive. He has to be... oh god, Angel, please be alive...
“No!” I mumble, and drag myself out of bed. Last night was the longest of my entire un-life. I can’t remember getting to bed, I just remember feeling like time and the universe had stopped with the news Angel wasn’t in it any longer. I remember sobbing... no comforting Fred, and then I awoke here.
I stretch and search the other side of the bed... nothing. It’s empty and un-slept in. That’s the first time ever in the last year that I’ve reached for Angel and not found him there. He’ll never be there again. NO! I refuse to believe that. I would have felt him die. I know I would. I pull myself together, grab a fag and sniff out the humans. I know what my first words will be to them. I know what I will do.
Downstairs, the gang are sitting around in Wesley’s office. There are drawn faces, red eyes, trembling lips, but I don’t take any notice. I know my path. I walk up to Wesley, ignoring Cordelia’s words of comfort and say it straight out.
“I want you to arrange to have the chip taken out,” I inform him.
Wesley looks up, staring me straight in the eye. I expect a fight, something, but not what happens next.
“I’ll sort it. This afternoon soon enough?”
Angel’s POV - 1 Month later:
I’ve lost track of time. Most of it has been spent in pain, just as the voice predicted. They started first with the tests. Medical, physical and then sexual. A man and woman in white coats performed them. They cut into me, burned me, anything you can think of - they did it. They even brought me off, taking a sample of sperm. Then the white coats left and were replaced by huge demons, with budging muscles and the smell of drugs. They beat me. After them I was left alone. My limbs broken, my blood spattered the walls. I was so badly injured I couldn’t move, not for days. That’s when the voice started.
Ah, psychological torture. Angelus once thought he was pretty good at that himself. He was nothing compared to the voice. It was a man’s voice, calm and controlled. A voice I learned to hate. After a few days I was screaming, begging for the talking to end. Anything to stop the repeating monotone of my crimes. After the voice, the demons returned and re-broke all my limbs. My legs are shaped at strange angles making walking impossible, my arms useless, my back immoveable. All I can do is move my eyes.
I think I would be better of dead. At least I’d get a reprieve against the pain. I beg them stop. I’ve gone past the pride part. I want an end. No matter how much I beg; it’s not enough. Or it’s not what they want to hear. I plead with them to tell me. Tell me what you want, I yell over and over. No one answers. So I just lie here. Starving, broken and alone.
Suddenly for the first time in days, I hear movement. The door opens and a man enters. My body tenses expecting pain, but after a moment nothing happens. I realise my eyes are closed and slowly open them. I have to blink to understand what I see. Beside me is Lindsey MacDonald, who leans down and brings a wet cloth to my face. A cloth that is held in his right hand. The hand I cut off him. I try and withdraw from his touch, but I can’t move. My limbs are frozen and useless. I part dry lips, trying to speak, to tell him to leave me alone. I hurt, my voice is gone and I have nothing left to scream with.
Slowly, Lindsey wipes away the blood from my face, with surprisingly gentle movements, and then reaches for a bag he’s brought. He pulls out a container of blood and presses it to my mouth. I don’t try to feed. I refuse to willingly take their poison.
“Angel, please drink this,” he whispers softly, “I swear it’s pure.”
I’m just too tired to fight. I sink my fangs into the plastic bag and suck desperately. My stomach burns with the first blood I’ve had in so long. I almost wish it was poisoned, anything to stop the ache inside. When the blood is gone, Lindsey gives me another, then another. Finally, he puts the empty bags away, and finishes cleaning my face.
“Things have happened, Angel. I’ve done... They gave me a new hand,” he shows me the limb, but strangely he doesn’t look happy. “It wanted to kill. I just couldn’t take it, and... well, certain events took place, and they led me to Spike. Your friends helped me, and I found out my hand came at a terrible cost. Spike destroyed their operations, and I have to replay him for helping me. I swear I didn’t know you were here, Angel. I believed what they told everyone, that Kate Lockley had staked you and you were dust. I would have told him. I was looking for something to protect myself with because I’m leaving, but instead, I found you.”
I feel like crying as he mentions Spike’s name. My sire, living without me. Happy without me.
“He’s dying, Angel. Spike. He’s not the same as I remember. He grieves for you; I see it in his eyes. They are dead and empty. He only helped me to hurt Wolfram and Hart. He’s out to destroy them, even more violently than you ever did. It’s his crusade,” he stops, and actually looks pained. “I can’t get you out, Angel. I don’t have the strength. I’ll find him, I promise. I’ll tell him where you are. Hold on.”
With that Lindsey leaves me. Leaves me with so many questions and no answers. He leaves me to weep out my misery, my pain and my loneliness.
“Spike, please find me,” I whisper.
Spike’s POV:
“ANGEL!”
Shit! Another bloody dream! I can’t take anymore of this crap! Every night I dream about him. I wonder where he is, what’s been done to him. I refuse to accept he’s dead. I won’t believe my Childe is gone from me forever. He’s mine and I’ll never let him go. Never!
I reach out and feel his side of the bed. Empty and cold. It was never empty and cold before. Before Willow and her spell, he was always there when I awakened, or not far away, and would come running when I called. I would kiss his sweet lips, taste myself in his mouth. I’d hold him, caress his hard, firm body, and I’d know I want him for eternity. I would enter him so slowly, pressing inside his sweet, tight ring. I’d feel him stretch to accommodate me, his arms holding me tighter and his mouth desperate to kiss mine. When inside we’d sigh with completion and then I’d move. I would start just with short pumps, then pull almost all the way out, stretching his tight muscle, and then thrusting back in until my balls slapped against his ass. I’d cry out, beg him to kiss me as I would thrust directly over his prostate. I’d find that spot over and over again, and he would squirm below me, panting out his passion. Then I’d move and take his long hard dick into my hands. I’d stoke the perfect skin, pushing his foreskin back and caressing the tiny slit.
“Spike... Sire... Yes! More... Please... Harder...” He’d beg. Angel would start rotating his hips, moaning as my thrusting cock caressed his tight, tender tissue. I’d be swearing by now, my coarse words hiding the depth of my passion. I’ve never been one for flowery words, fearful of what others thought of me. Angle would know what I meant. That when I say he’s so fucking tight, that he holds me so well, and that his ass belongs to me. He would know I was telling how beautiful he was, how I desired him, and how much I adored making love to him.
Soon words would be lost and I’d be panting right along with my Childe. We’d be expanding unused lungs in unnecessary breath as our bodies came alive during our copulation. Our faces would change, fangs showing, growls starting deep inside our bodies that would tremble with the onset of orgasm. Angel’s tight ass would contract around me, gripping me in a vice-like grip. I’d scream my desire, sink my fangs into my mark on his corded throat, and fill his bowels with my dead seed. Angel would arch and shudder against me, his sperm covering my chest and he’d howl out my name.
“Sire!!” The whole hotel would know my Childe had just had mind-blowing sex. I’d hold him after, still intimately joined to him. I would tell him what I wanted to do that night. How many rules he’d broken in the last day and what his punishment would be. He’d roll his eyes, and smile sympathetically, as if trying to humour his crazed sire. I’d smack his head, he’d growl back and it would start all over again. I’d be kissing him, growing hard inside and...
But there is nothing. The bed is empty and so is my heart. Even the erection I have thinking about Angel starts to wilt when I remember he’s not here. He hasn’t been here for a month. He might never be... No! He’s not dead. I jump out of the bed and pull some jeans on. Sleep is highly overrated, and in any case I have work to do.
I’ve never stopped all month. I fight Cordelia’s visions, I search the city for my Angel, and then during the day - I grieve. I’ve turned into my Childe! I’ve become Angel. It’s a position I really, *really* hate. I mean it should be him! I don’t care what happens to mankind! I care about my Childe, and I’d better find him quick for I’ll be bloody broody... Oh shit, I’m already brooding.
“I’ll bloody kill you when I find you, Childe!” I snarl, walking down the stairs.
The whole of the Hyperion has been turned into research central. Books, computers, reports, you name it, we have it, and we still don’t know anything more about what happened to Angel in that cell. Today however, something is different. Standing in the centre of the lobby, talking to Cordelia is Lindsey MacDonald.
“I don’t give a shit what you want, Lindsey,” she snarls at him. She’s been around me far too much. “You aren’t welcome here, you had better leave now or I swear I’ll kick you out!” The bint looks like she might actually do it as well.
We kinda ended up helping Lindsey a few days ago. For services rendered Wolfram and Hart gave Lindsey a transplant and he received a whole new hand. A real, living one. Then suddenly he gets all these crazy desires to kill, and Cordelia’s visions lead us to each other. I found Wolfram & Hart’s supply depot and we destroyed it. Then the stupid bastard gets up and returns straight back to them. He says something about never forgiving us about the whole Angelus incident. That was all his bloody fault, too!
“Get out, Lindsey,” I snarl as I stand beside Cordelia.
“Spike, please listen. I was trying to tell you I have news about Angel.”
“GET OUT!” Cordelia screams, tears filling her eyes. I think she hurts as much as I do. Angel was her best friend, her companion in this business, and her comfort when the visions were too much. There is no romantic love between them, Angel always reassured me of that, but he loves her like a sister, and therefore I shall protect what’s left of him.
“Here smell me!” Lindsey shouts back, shoving his hand under my nose. There is a slight odour, and something... he opens his hand and there is a discolouration of dried blood. I grab his hand, and he gasps in pain. I hold it to my nose and breath deeply. It can’t be... I taste the patch of blood, my tongue flicking out and....
“Angel!” I bellow, and in seconds Lindsey is attached to the floor with my fangs in his throat. He screams and yells for me to let him up, but my instincts have taken over. Oh, did I forget to mention the chip is gone? Bad, Spike! He knows where my Childe is and has kept that from me. I know I should let him speak, but my first desire is to kill him. Kill him for touching what’s mine! Kill him for having one drop of Angel’s blood on his skin!
“Spike! Let him go!” Wesley cries, running out from the inner office. He’s followed by Fred and Gunn who all grab my arms and legs pulling me away from the struggling lawyer.
“Fucking bastard!” I howler, my fangs dripping his blood. “You touched my Childe! Mine!” A red haze fills my vision and all I want to do is kill. Him. Everyone!
“Wait... Wait... Angel’s alive?” Cordelia gasps, catching my face in her hands.
“I smelt Angel on his skin! That’s his blood! My Childe!” I rave, lost in the bloodlust to destroy all those who have done this to me and mine.
“Spike, get a hold of yourself,” orders Wesley, helping Lindsey to the sofa. He presses his shirt against the bleeding wound in the lawyer’s throat. I notice Fred running out and coming back with a first aid kit, while Cordelia comforts me. Gunn holds his stake unsure about what to do. He doesn’t trust me, he never will and now with the chip gone I could be a threat. A snake in his circle of friends.
Cordelia shoves me into the opposite couch, trying to get me to calm down. She knows how to do it to Angel and her concern touches me. I sigh, letting my face change. I can kill him later, hell I can kill them all later.
“Lindsey, is it true?” Wesley asks while cleaning him up.
“Yeah,” the lawyer replies hoarsely. His throat should hurt with my fangs ripping it open. Serves him right! “I was looking for information to protect myself from the senior partners. I was leaving them, and well, no one leaves and lives, so I was getting blackmail information. I came across Lilah’s old files.” I snarl at the name, and everyone stares at me. After a moment he continues, “they were just for show, because inside they hid information about Angel. Up to date information. I swear that before I didn’t know about him. I didn’t know Wolfram and Hart had him. Holland Manners runs the project, there are only a select few that know. They are following some agenda, a prophecy about Angel. They want to corrupt his soul. Make him evil by breaking him down. That’s what they have been doing all month. Running tests, finding his weakness, and trying to send him insane with torture and psychological methods...”
There is total silence and six shocked faces. Lindsey knows that he’s in enemy territory and from the look on every one’s face says they would be happy to return the favour.
“It’s not working. Angel’s too strong, but in the end, even he has a breaking point. Soon they know he’s going to crack. I found him last night. I took him some blood, and told him I’d bring help. He’s broken, unable to move or fight. You have to... I owe you okay, I’m telling you this because I owe you and I fucking hate it. I hate you all, and I want this dept paid.”
“Angel...” Cordelia whimpers and curls herself into my embrace. I pat her back gently, hating this sloppy human stuff.
“Can you get us into Wolfram and Hart?” asks Wesley, looking all business.
“I don’t know...”
“There are tunnels under the building, Angel knew them well,” I inform them.
“Yes, but they have vampire detectors. If Angel is moved, or if you enter they shall know something is happening. Then there is a security office on each floor, and for Angel’s section... Well, even I don’t access high enough for that.”
“So, how did you see Angel,” asks Gunn, suspiciously.
“I know a girl, she’s a doctor and well once we were... We kinda... well, she was sleeping after and I snuck out. I don’t think she’s gonna fall for it again.”
“What about Manners?” I ask.
“What about him?” Lindsey looks confused, not seeing the connection. None of them do yet, but I have the start of a plan. Damn good plan, gonna work to.... I hope!
“He has access?” Lindsey nods. “Well then, we get him to take us to Angel.”
“Spike, Holland Manners is not going to let us walk in and take Angel away from them. If what Lindsey said is true then Angel is extremely important to their plans and an upcoming apocalypse. I will assume that even Holland is expendable to the firm, especially if it means we don’t steal their prize.” Wesley considers, raising points I already know.
“We don’t need him just his pass, Lindsey finds us a way inside, we use the pass, nab Angel and leave!”
“What about everything else!” Wesley snaps back, “the guards, the detectors, and the spells! You can’t just wander in there, swipe a card and walk Angel out!”
Oh, he of little faith.
~*~*~*~
Twenty-four hours later, and my plan goes into action. I’m not entirely sure it’s gonna work, but I can’t let the human’s know that. I’m the big bad, I never fail. *Cough* Well, hardly ever. Well, sometimes. Okay! So my schemes don’t always go according to plan! This time it’s different. This time my Childe’s life is at stake. If this fails - then everyone dies, it’s as simple as that.
My contacts from Caritas managed to get hold of some good imitation explosives. I mean where the hell am I gonna get hold of the real thing? Huh? It’s not the like movies; I can’t just waltz in a hardware store and pick it up! Then a timer, and such. Wesley put the bomb together, telling me how he’s never done this and it won’t work. Trouble is we don’t have another plan. I tell him - all it has to do is look real. Wolfram and Hart would do it - have done it - they blew Angel‘s home up, therefore if it looks like a real bomb they might believe it is one.
Next is to get into the building. This turned out pretty simple. One underground passage, two humans go first, and when they have the security swipe card from Manners, I go in and hold the lawyers hostage. I want them to know I’m there at that moment, I want them to think I’m killing them because my Childe is dead and I can’t go on. That way - hopefully - they aren’t going to think the others are rescuing Angel.
“This isn’t going to work,” I mumble to myself.
Cordelia’s POV:
What the hell are we doing? Following Spike’s famous plans?! They never work? Oh god, this isn’t going to work!
“Cordelia!” Fred hisses next to me, knowing what I’m thinking.
I focus myself back into the present and look over at Fred. She looks just as worried as I am. She might not have known Spike long, but she’s witnessed just what explosive failures Spike’s plans can turn out like.
“I’m fine,” I hiss back. I hate underground tunnels. They are always so dirty and cost me a fortune in dry cleaning. I look down at my shoes - yep, totally ruined. Spike owes me. “Have you heard anything?” I ask Fred in the same whisper... Why am I whispering? No one’s around, were in the tunnels!
“No, just the usual chatter,” she answers.
We have wired Lindsey up so that we know the instant the security card is in his hand. After that we get in position, where Wesley and Gunn are currently cutting away a grate leading into Wolfram’s and Hart’s basement. Then they take the card, and find Angel. As soon as we’re in, Spike goes upstairs and holds some lawyers hostage. Hopefully, his actions will distract the guards away from us.
“Wait! He’s in the boardroom, I can hear him addressing someone called... yep, and it’s Manners.” Suddenly, Fred starts to giggle.
“What?” I hiss, desperate to know what’s happening.
“He’s talking about his evil hand,” she laughs, “Oh! Naughty.”
“What?” What’s naughty? Just tell me!
“He’s got it,” Fred calls down softly to the boys. Over the sound of their blowtorch they don’t hear her.
“Lindsey‘s got it!” I holler.
“Cordelia!” Wesley scolds, “We don’t want the whole of LA to know we are here!”
“He’s got the key?” a soft English voice asks behind me.
“SPIKE!” I scream, almost jumping out of my skin. “You’re as bad as Angel!” I hate it when he does that - sneaky vampires!
“Guys? Spike?” All of our attention is turned back to the grate. There grinning from ear to ear is Lindsey. “I’ve got it,” he proclaims, waving around a small red card. “Damn fun too, I even shot that bastard Allen with my evil hand!” What is he on?
Spike growls softly, and Wesley snatches the card from Lindsey. “Fine,” he answers, then turns to Fred and me. “You two stay here with Lindsey; Gunn and I shall bring Angel, and be ready.” We both nod in agreement. Lindsey hands Wesley a map of the building, where the route is outlined in red.
“Spike?” asks Wesley, Spike nods signifying he’s prepared. “Right! Give us 3 minutes to get on the right floor, and then make your move.”
This sounds like a Spy film! Hey, I could be a James Bond girl. I have the looks, the brains... no wait, they don’t have brains! Hey, I’m Miss Moneypenny - oh, great I’m the bloody secretary who never gets the man!
Wesley and Gunn disappear into the basement, and Spike sets his watch. He’s a strange vampire, Spike. Totally evil, but continues to fight with us because he wants Angel more than killing. Once upon a time, a man wanting another guy might have bothered me, but these are vampires and to them gender isn’t important, but the relationship is. Spike is Angel’s sire, but he loves his Childe far more than just that. Even though he’ll never tell anyone, you can see it. At this moment, I know that Spike is willing to die for his Childe, to save said Chidle’s life at any cost. I respect that. Also it’s really weird, because at this second I could have sworn it was Angel standing there and not Spike. My strong Champion, the warrior vampire for the Powers that Be. The vampire with a soul, and a heart larger than the US, and a guilt complex to match. It’s like in this time of need they have reversed roles.
Suddenly, Spike’s watch goes off and he gives us a crude grin. “Break a leg,” I shout as he disappears into the building, leaving me wondering if I shall ever see either of them again.
Spike’s POV:
Okay, my first desire when I entered Wolfram and Hart was not to follow the plan, but to find Angel myself. Trouble is - I can’t! I know that as soon as I set foot in here they shall know I’ve arrived. They have spells and vampire detectors who would have alerted the guards. I only hope Wesley and Gunn find him in time, if they don’t I might just kill them.
I don’t take the lift, but the stairs. I don’t want my plans finished just because I get stopped in a lift or something. The guards spot me on the second floor, and I have two more to go. I run out on the fourth and towards the boardroom that Lindsey has not long vacated. There is no signal from Fred via the mobile to say they have moved, so I make that my destination. I encounter a few guards but they are quickly taken out. I need to fulfil this objective; I need to save my Childe. I barge into the room, skidding to a halt before the bastard who took what is mine.
“Kill him!” Holland screams.
“I don’t think that’s gonna be wise, pet,” I laugh, and pull back my leather duster. There strapped to my chest is Wesley’s bomb - well, fake bomb. Oh yeah, now that’s got them gob smacked that’s for sure. I’ve got them crying, screaming and begging for their miserable lives. This is fucking great! Yep, the big bad is back! He He He!
Wesley’s POV:
Lindsey’s plan is easy to follow and we have made good time, and are in position when the fire alarm bell starts to ring. An automatic pre-recorded voice starts speaking and announces a security alert. In other words - Spike’s upstairs with a bomb strapped to his chest. Looks like the first half of his plan is working. I just hope it lasts long enough for us to find Angel and get him out. Gunn and I hide as people run by, and then move on as the corridors clear. 5 minutes later we don’t meet anyone, so we can now run towards our objective. I just hope Angel is still here, and not been moved since Lindsey’s visit.
The first sign we have approached the right sector is a huge warning sign - authorised personal only. There before the door is a swipe card machine. I hope this works. I run Holland Manner’s card through and the computer bleeps... and bleeps.
“This ain’t gonna work, man,” Gunn mumbles nervously looking around.
“It has to,” I snap back, not realising how desperate I am. I want to save Angel and get out of here in one piece.
I swipe the card again, another bleep and... Yes! The security door swings opens and leads into a brightly lit, and very *white* corridor.
“You were saying,” I reply smartly. Gunn growls and follows me inside. The corridor is long, with what looks to be hundreds of doors. Doors with no number, no windows, no door handles only swipe card-runners.
“Shit!” I curse, making Gunn laugh.
“Which one?” he whispers.
I consult the map, and Lindsey has written no 14. I guess he counted the doors. I tell Gunn and we count. The 14th door depends upon which side you go down so I make a decision. I swipe the card, it bleeps... I swallow nervously... the door clicks open and... nothing.
I turn around and choose the next 14th door on the opposite side of the corridor. Again I swipe, wait and then... it flicks open. Both Gunn and I sigh in relief. I push the door open, and slip on something. Looking down I find my foot covered in blood.
“Angel...” I mumble, suddenly feeling nauseated.
The floor is slick with blood and tissue. In the centre of the room is a body. Pale, thin and broken. He’s naked with his legs at strange angles, his arms twisted behind him, the wrists crushed. His chest is bruised with dark purple contusions and blackened, burned skin. Worst of all - Angel’s eyes are open. He’s looking directly at us, and I can feel the tears running down over my cheeks. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve any of this.
“Wesley,” he mumbles, “I'm dying, and you’re too late.”
“What?” I lean down and press my ear to his lips.
“Poison. I didn’t break...” he laughs softly, and smiles as his eyes close.
“Gunn get his arms,” I yell, knowing I have to get him out of here and to Spike before anything happens to him. Spike needs to see him, and then we can get him to the Hyperion to find a cure.
“No... time...” he speaks so softly, I almost miss his words.
Suddenly, out of the blue, my mobile phone rings. I grab it from my pocket and flick it open. I just hope Spike hasn’t been put out of action and that we still have an escape route. “What?!” I scream down the phone.
“Vision!” Cordelia’s pained voice screams back. I can hear the stress and emotion in her tone. “Angel, I saw him... oh god, Wesley! I saw him...” She sobs and Fred must have taken the phone.
“Cordelia says that Angel has to make a choice. Something is wrong with him, and you have to take him to the main post office. I don’t understand the rest but she says you would understand what to do.”
“The post office?” asks Gunn, wondering if Cordelia’s finally gone off her head from the pain.
“Fred, what the...” Wait! I remember. A couple of years back when I first started working with Angel, I sorted all the files out. Cordelia was useless at the time - and she’s improved little since - but I came across something my predecessor had written. A note from Doyle, and on it he gave instructions about the Oracles for Angel should he ever need them. Angel had looked saddened, and distressed about the note, but I remembered what he had written and filed it away. I remember the address. It’s right under the main post office.
“The Oracles,” I breathe. “Fred, contact Spike, tell him where to go and make it quick. We will be heading over there as soon as we get Angel out!” I flick the connection switch off, and the line goes dead.
“What are the Oracles?” asks Gunn, “are they going to save Angel?”
“I don’t know, but I think it’s the only answer we have.” Gunn nods and helps me lift Angel’s battered body. He takes out a blanket and carefully covers the vampire’s nakedness.
It’s pretty slow going, but thankfully Spike’s ploy has worked. The building is still evacuated and no one prevented our escape. Cordelia and Fred meet us at the sewer entrance while Lindsey starts the car. We ran all the way, carrying the heavy weight of a dying vampire, but somehow we found the strength. It was a 4-person job to get him up the ladder and out into the open, and I know it hurt him, but Angel didn’t cry out or complain. After that we lifted him into the car, and then roared down the road heading towards the Post Office.
“Fred?” I shout over of the sound of the traffic, “You reached Spike?”
“Yes,” she answers, screaming to be heard, “he says he’ll be there, and not to take any notice of the fireworks.”
“Fireworks?” I yell back. Fred shrugs her shoulders, looking as confused as I am. Then from behind us there is an almighty bang. All four of us turn and stare as the Wolfram and Hart building splits open as flames rage from the bomb that exploded on the fifth floor. In the driver’s seat, Lindsey starts to laugh.
“Spike and I sure know how to set off fireworks,” he yells at all of us, grinning like an idiot.
I feel faint. I handled explosives! Real explosives! All of a sudden the world goes black.
Spike’s POV:
Ah ah! Got them! The sight of Wolfram and Hart offices burning to the ground makes me proud to be a vampire. Damn I’m good. I’m fucking brilliant. Even though it was Lindsey who managed to get the explosives, it was my brilliance that set them off. Ah! I even got Wesley believing they were duds. The last time I set this building on fire it only burned out the one floor, this time the whole place is going up in flames. Hopefully, the threat they pose will too, but doubt it. I am soooo BAD!
Suddenly the sound of Rule Britannia interrupts my victory dance, and I turn away from the beautiful sight of flames destroying my enemy. I had it timed just right, and I only have a few scorch marks. Now it’s time to find Angel. After a moment I find my phone and cut off the music.
“Spike!” It’s Fred on the other hand, and I’m just waiting for the good news. Still, it’s not her voice I want.
“Fred! Give me Angel!” I shout down the line.
“Spike, we have Angel... he’s dying, Spike! They injected with some sort of Vampire poison...”
No!! This can’t be fucking real! No! This has to some sort of cosmic joke!
“Cordelia had a vision, and were on our way to the main post office. Wesley says the Oracles are there, and they’ll be able to help him. Can you get there?”
“Yeah, I’m on my way!” I cut of the connection, and roar. Fucking do-gooders. Fucking powers that bloody be! This is the last straw! There will be no fucking Angel Investigations anymore. I swear if Angel dies the whole city burns!
Angel’s POV:
Burning... Heat... Hot... Flames... I moan loudly, trying to fight the pain that has taken over my body. It feels like my flesh is burning off the bone as the poison works it magic. I almost wish to go back to the agony of just broken bones and split flesh.
“Angel,” a voice, breaks my pain and I fight with all my strength to open my eyes. I’m wishing that it is going to be Spike before me. His welcome face, his blue eyes... but it’s not. Cordelia brushes the hair from my forehead and leans closer. “Angel, we’re here. You’ll be okay. Wesley’s opening the door to the Oracles and they shall heal you, okay?” She kisses my forehead and continues to stroke my face.
I welcome her cool touch against my burning skin. My consciousness fades in and out, but in the back ground I can hear Wesley chanting, his swearing when he gets it wrong, and then I feel something... A burning deep inside and I grunt loudly. Is this death? Cordelia mumbles comforting words to me, and the sensation increases. Suddenly, there is a bright flash of light that blinds me for a moment, and I feel my body being lifted.
“Angel!” The sensation of life deep within me grows and I recognise that voice. My sire. Spike. I feel his hands touch me as they carry me into the Oracles Chamber, and the light fades until I can see again. A face looms above me and I smile.
“Sire...” I mumble with my frozen mouth. My words are muffled as his lips covers mine, his coolness against my raging heat. Ye Gods, how I’ve missed him! I yearned for him everyday, but I know he’s moving on. I’m just his Childe, not his beloved.
“Come before us, lower beings,” I hear the voice of a male Oracle. I guess that after Vocah and the deaths of the first Oracles, they have replaced them.
“What have you brought us?” A woman asks the same question I’ve heard before. I feel myself being placed gently on the floor, and my head resting upon Cordelia’s lap. The strong form of my sire approaches the blue and gold beings, snarling loudly.
“I’ll tell you what we’ve fucking brought!” my sire growls, “We’ve brought you the warrior you let them torture! The warrior you sodding deserted.”
“You are not welcome here, demon,” the woman scolds, “begone from this place!”
“No! You heal my Childe and then I’ll leave!”
“We cannot heal him,” the woman answers sadly, “it is not our choice.”
“What!” snarls Spike, his face changes and he howls as he attacks the two Oracles. He never reaches the steps, instead some force throws him backwards, and he hits the far wall. He bellows in pain, and struggles against the force holding him hostage.
“Please!” I cry, my chest burning as I try to speak. “Sire, please stop!” My words must have gotten through to him, because he calms and the power lets him fall bruised to the ground. He gets to his feet and kneels beside me.
“They need to die, Childe. I won’t let you go! Please Angel, I’ll get them to save you!”
Are those tears in his eyes? For me?
“Before you interrupted us, lower being,” the man continues contemptibly, staring at Spike, “we were about to tell you what has been decreed. This test was necessary for the Powers that Be. Angel’s soul was at risk because he lost his will to fight. He believed his soul was impure, tainted by the death of Lilah Morgan. That though fear and ignorance, the being Liam damned his soul. He believes he murdered and is forever condemned.”
“Like this the warrior couldn’t fight,” the woman continues, “he was falling into the pit, just where Wolfram and Hart wished him to be. It was not her death that would have damned his soul, that would have corrupted it and therefore started the chain of events Holland Manners strived for. It was his loss of faith that would have done it. His faith in himself, truth, life and... love,” she adds, almost as a private message to me, a strange look in her eyes.
The woman walks forward and kneels beside me. My body trembles with the effects of the poison, but I can see her clearly. I notice Spike watching her like a hawk, ready to defend me. Was I wrong about his feelings?
“Warrior, you must choose. Choose between life and death. Your soul was not condemned by the accident you were unable to prevent. The child Liam was weak and afraid, the natural actions of your body were his only defence, and he used them in his anguish. Although, hold in mind that should you choose death the Powers promise a peaceful reward.”
I feel a hand take mine and I look into Spike’s face. His eyes still in demon form, bright and golden, burning with possession and need. Does he still want me? Can he give me what I want above all things? His fidelity. That I should be the only one in his bed, and that no others can come into his life. It’s something that he didn’t even share with Dru. He is a demon, with demon desires. He loved her for centuries and she loved him, but there were other lovers for them both. Others that shared their bed. I cannot do that. I don’t care if Willow was invited for comfort, that it meant nothing to him. That he believed it didn’t touch what we had. Inside, it burned me with jealously. A jealously I shouldn’t have felt, but couldn’t hold back. I didn’t want him touching anyone. I wanted the same for him, that he didn’t need anyone else in my arms, but I guess I was wrong. He can’t live with just me.
“Don’t leave me, Childe,” Spike whispers, his face changing to human planes. Bright blue eyes finding mine. “You’re mine, and I damn well forbid it!” he snarls almost as an after thought, covering the strong emotions in his voice.
Does he want me? Me and only me? Can I be lover, friend, companion and everything else as well as Childe? Do I want to try and win him over?
“You’re mine! Mine!” he mumbles into my ear as he kisses my cheek.
*MINE!*
“I want... to... live...” I gasp, the pain burning stronger within me. I feel my body fading as if it’s finally giving into the poison.
“You have chosen wisely, warrior.” The woman leans forward and touches my forehead. A bright light fills my vision, and everything is blank.
Spike’s POV:
For an instant I’m terrified. It’s an emotion I never let myself feel. I’m a vampire, an evil demon not a wimp. Still, when my Childe lies dying on this stone floor, and I look into his eyes seeing confusion and hurt, I wonder. I wonder if he shall choose death. That my love isn’t strong enough to keep him here. For well over a month I haven’t touched him, and I don’t think I could spend another day without him in my bed and in my life.
“Mine! Mine!” I whisper into his ear, trying to tell him all I’m feeling with that single possessive word. Until finally when he doesn’t answer the Oracles question, I scream it inside my mind.
*MINE!*
Angel’s eyes catch mine, and he gapes. Words form on his lips, and with my vampire hearing I can just make them out.
“I want... to... live...” he breathes, his body racked with pain. My heart swells at his words, and even the female Oracles smiles. She tells him that he made the wise choice, which I already knew, and then she leans forward and touches his forehead. I snarl softly, but don’t prevent her.
With the Oracles touch, Angel’s body flares with bright white light. It encases his form, until he’s unidentifiable, but I still feel the touch of his hand to mine. The light blazes around him, until I’m forced to close my sensitive eyes until it begins to fade. I hear Cordelia’s soft gasp as I slowly open my eyes. The light returns to normal, the halo surrounding Angel lessens until his form is clearly defined. I can understand Cordelia’s surprise.
“Angel?” I mumble amazed. He’s perfect... again. His body has been healed and made whole. His skin has a healthy pale hue, normal for any well-fed vampire. His bones whole and unbroken. His face smooth and relaxed as if he’s been sleeping and not recently tortured, and then poisoned to death. “Angel?”
Angel’s chocolate eyes open and he looks around a little confused. The Oracle smiles at him and stands up, walking away to join her brother. I reach out and so carefully touch my Childe’s face, his lips are moist and smooth under my fingers, his cheeks slightly warm but nothing like before. I push the blanket down revealing his naked chest. I see nothing of his wounds, only perfect pale pink skin. No marks, no blemishes, nothing.
“Sire? Why am I naked on the floor?” Angel asks, very uncomfortable with being around his friends and Oracles wearing only a blanket.
“Angel? Don’t you remember what happened?” asks Cordelia amazed, her fingers stroking his forehead.
Okay! I‘m so *Not* liking her touching him one little bit!
“Yes... I think so...” Angel answers looking dazed.
“Angel, what do you remember?” asks Wesley, concerned and curiously just like everyone else.
“Err... I was taken by Wolfram and Hart. I remember the cell they put me. I... I think they performed tests, they hurt me... but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel any pain, just... just peacefulness. It went on for days, weeks... I think... then I’m here and I felt this burning.... err, that’s it. It’s clear, but with no sensations of pain or hurt. We came here and I was asked to live or die, I chose to live.”
Well, that’s basically it. Pretty amazing stuff this Oracle mojo. They take his guilt, and the memory of pain, but that doesn’t mean I forgive them. They almost took my Childe, and I can never excuse that.
“Great,” I interrupt before anyone else can ask question, “Angel’s fine and now we’re leaving.”
“Spike, you cannot take Angel away from his destiny,” the Man speaks.
Can the bastard read my mind? “I bloody can!” I take Angel by the arm and guide him to his feet, wrapping the blanket around him like a sarong. “He’s my fucking Childe, and you nearly took him from me! I don’t work for you, and now neither does Angel!” I pull him towards the exit, but Angel is reluctant.
“Spike... Sire... I can’t leave... I have a job...”
“No, Angel. You had a job. I won’t let you go! I won’t let them even try to take you from me. I’m your bloody sire and I...”
The female Oracle stands forward and hold her hand out, “Angel belongs to you, and the Powers acknowledge the ownership of your demon over its Childe.”
“Yeah? Well, they should...” I answer, not sure what she’s getting at. Is this another con? I’m not letting anything happen to him ever again. They have screwed enough with our life. The last couple of years have been great, but I could really have done without all the life threatening parts, the death, torture, misery and all that shit. Is it too much just to want your Childe? To spend the days screwing him and the nights playing?
In the female’s hand a long poker appears. Then I realise it’s an iron brand. On the end is an oval shape around 4 inches long and 3 wide, and has an extremely increate design moulded into it. The workmanship is astounding. She offers me the brand, and I carefully take it from her hand. The design is a dragon in the shape of a oval. The start has the head, jaws wide open showing huge teeth, and then its body curves around, with talons sticking out. Its wings bow around the bottom, showing its back legs, and then it finishes with a pointed tale that completes the oval shape. Surely no human hand could have made this.
“I don’t understand...”
“It is a brand,” the Woman confirms, which I already knew. What I don’t know is - what it is for? “Over a millennia ago, a vampire master would brand their favourite Childer, with their own marks. There is a ritual that binds them to their masters, and keeping them at their sides forever. Such Childer were treasured and kept by the Master vampire as concubines. Also there is a bond between them, what the bond consists of is lost in time, but promises are made. The Childe has rights to make sure his Sire keeps and protects him for his lifetime. The Sire can never leave that Childe, never let them die or cause him undue suffering. This is what we are giving you. A bond to your Childe, forever. He’ll always belong to you, just as you will belong to him.”
A bond? Angel would let me do this? I mean it’s really tempting. Who in their right minds would turn Angel down? Come on, I bet given the choice even Cordelia, or Wesley would damn well claim him forever. But this? Is it too much? Would Angel let this happen? He has a strong personality, his own ideals of right and wrong. He can be the most obnoxiously stubborn person I’ve ever known. He’ll fight me every step of the way when he knows he’s right. He likes being in control of himself. I can’t ever see Angel accepting this strength of claim over him. That he’d really have a mark binding him to me, forever.
“I... I can’t...” I whisper. Angel wouldn’t want this. Not this level of control. I do. I want to own him, not because of ownership, but because I *cough* love *cough* him so bloody much. I want every waking second to be with him, I want to sleep in his arms until the world crumbles around us. I want him forever full stop.
I turn to face Angel, and I expect to see something other that what’s presently reflected in his eyes. I don’t know... respect... joy, but not this. His face is a mask of shock, horror and total betrayal.
Angel’s POV:
He doesn't want me! My fears were true. My sire tires of me. I am his Childe, but no longer his lover. He wants to be able to leave me, to move on to someone else. I knew he could never stay with me - a vampire with a soul. I’m not a demon. I can’t do what they desire. I can’t share him with another. Maybe it’s best... but then I don’t know how to live without him. I feared this when I chose life, but I thought I could maybe... I don’t know... When I talk about feelings like that, deep emotional ones that are so important I always make a complete bodge of it. Look at Buffy and I.
“Angel?” he asks, a look of confusion on his face.
I swallow hard, step away from his desired body and look at the floor. “It’s okay, I understand. You need other people, I know I’m just... just new.”
“New? What the hell are you talking about?” Spike snarls, his eyes golden and filled with hurt.
“I know what demon love is like, Spike. I understand. I just can’t do it. I know you desire other people... women. I didn’t stop Willow, because you wanted to... but I can’t. I don’t want to share you... I can’t be with anyone else but you, so I’ll understand when you leave me.”
“Leave you!” Spike howlers. I look up into furious eyes, blazing with red fires in their gold depths. “Willow was nothing. I thought... shit, I thought I wasn’t enough. That you might want a female body. That... Bloody hell, Angel! Why the hell do you think I never let you come inside her? I couldn’t bare the thought of your seed inside her body. It was mine! I know my demon desires others, hell I’d shag anyone, and I did with Dru... I just...” He’s so angry, that he grabs my arms and starts to shake me. “Fuck it, why the hell didn’t you stop it!? Huh? I hate you touching anyone else. I want you! I’ve never loved a bloody soul before, how was I supposed to know you want my fidelity. Bloody stupid Childe!” he rages.
I know he’s about to say more, but I won’t let him. We have embarrassed ourselves enough in front of everyone! Instead of talking, I kiss him. I crush my body into his welcome embrace, and kiss him with all the desire and love I’ve ever felt for him.
“Humph... Angel...” he mumbles into my mouth, his arms crushing me to him, mine around him.
Suddenly, even he remembers where we are and swiftly breaks away.
“Shit! Shit! I can’t believe this!” he yells to himself, about to go on a rampage. Instead, I grab his hand with the brand in.
“Spike, take the brand. I want to be yours.”
His eyes return to blue, and he gawks at me. Spike is in total shock, silent and still. It’s amazing. I’ve never seen him so inactive.
“Okay...” he manages to mumble, “I’ll go get drunk, and then we’ll talk.” He kisses me quick, then runs out of the door and away from everyone. I have to smile at his actions. He tries to be the big bad too much, but he’s a surprisingly highly emotional demon and in reality he’s controlled by them. Not by good or evil, but by what he feels. That’s what drives Spike, and I’m not ashamed to say I love him.
“Wesley, I’ve never seen a vampire blush so much,” Cordelia laughs, staring directly into my burning face.
Okay, I’m just as embarrassed as he is. There goes my stoic and untouchable reputation. I don’t like showing such depth of emotion in front of everyone I know!
“It’s okay, Angel. You were dying, we’ll forget about,” Cordelia chuckles as she kisses my cheek. “And welcome back,” she takes my arm and leads me out of the chamber.
“Thank you,” I whisper as I leave, knowing they heard me. Thank you for giving me my life back, and I don’t mean my existence, but my reason for being. Spike.
~*~*~*~
The next morning:
Everything after the Oracles was pretty much a blur. I might be healed, but I feel suddenly exhausted. My friends guide me from the Post Office, and the girls put me to bed. They laugh and giggle about where Spike’s gonna brand me. Wesley has gone to research mode to find about all he can about the Ritual. He‘s very concerned about why the Oracles would want the two of us bound. Okay, I’ve wondered too, but deep down in my soul I don’t care. I need him, I need his rules and I need to know he wants me. If the Powers think they can control Spike through the bond that’s fine by me, because I know he can’t be controlled. If they want a restraint on him now the chip is gone (oh yes, that was the first piece of news Cordelia just had to tell me, which I’m really pleased about,) and are using me, that’s okay by me, too.
I think I must have fallen to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, because the next thing I remember is waking up, with Spike curled around me, stinking of powerful booze and drooling on my chest. The thick curtains were drawn in our bedroom, but I could smell it was daytime outside. At this moment, I finally let in sink in that I’m home. Really home, here in our bed, Spike asleep on my chest, (the drooling was new), but everything else felt like home. I wrapped my arms around my sire, and rubbed my cheek into his fine blond hair.
“I love you, Spike,” I whisper into his ear. The rest of the morning I stay awake, I just want to hold him, and know he’s finally here with me. There was only one troubling thought. Spike half woke up during the day and said - “You are in so much trouble, do you know how many rules you have broken?” he grins up at me and then snuggles himself deeper into my chest.
Hey, the whole Wolfram and Hart kidnapping wasn’t my fault! Damn it, what is Spike gonna do to me now?
Spike’s POV:
It’s late afternoon when I finally leave our bedroom. Angel and I have... no, not had SEX! Disgusting mind! We talked. That’s all. He told me about what happened at Wolfram and Hart and how the Oracles have taken his suffering, pain and guilt. They have given him a gift of inner-peace. I told him about having the chip out, how brave... okay, scared shitless I was, but I don’t yearn to bite people anymore. It has been a hard, painful month but I suppose in the end it’s worth it. I have my Angel back again. The Childe I was moulding and teaching is back into my life, just as if Lilah never happened.
Maybe I needed that time away from my Childe too. Maybe I needed to learn how much I really, really... oh shit, I’ll have to say it... LOVE him. I want him forever. I want my Childe in my bed, in my arms and in my life every moment of everyday. And boy didn’t that sound sappy! I disgust myself, and yet I cannot feel sad. Today, I’m going to claim and bond with my Childe.
Angel fell asleep again after talking and holding, so I decided to go down and see if Wesley had found out about this bonding ritual. Come on, he’s bound to have hit the books as soon as he came home. Wesley wouldn’t have been able to resist the challenge. Also he’d want to know what it would mean for the business.
“Coffee?” I ask as I come down the stairs and into the main foray.
“Morning to you to, Spike, and no we haven’t,” Cordelia answers with a happy grin.
“We have fruit juice,” Fred chirps in with a happy grin. “Strawberry even, and that’s well... red.”
“No thanks, pet,” I grin back, wrinkling my nose. She giggles girlishly and Cordelia rolls her eyes.
“Spike?” Wesley calls from the inner office, “I need to speak to you.”
Just great I don’t even have time to make a cup of coffee. I didn’t expect him to be that quick.
“What can I do for ya, watcher,” I ask, flopping into one of his leather seats.
He gives me a disapproving look, and then turns back to the huge mountain of books on his desk. “Yes, well, I’ve been trying to discover any information about this bonding ritual the oracles spoke of. Unfortunately, I’ve only come across obscure references, but nothing really concrete. What do you know?”
He looks up at me expectantly, awaiting my answer. “Bugger all, mate.” I reply truthfully. Okay, it was truthful before I went to the Oracles. I’m not entirely sure what the whole bond thing means, but I know the ritual, what to say and do, etc. Which I’m really looking forward to. They must have gifted me with the knowledge as well as the brand.
“So you won’t attempt to perform it,” confirms Wesley, totally confused, “but you took the brand.”
“It’s not the ritual, Wesley. Angel wants the symbolism, and that’s what I’m going to give him.”
“You’re going to... to burn that symbol into him like... like cattle?” he screeches, his voice rising with every word.
“He’ll like it, pet, I can promise you that,” I smile, lighting up a fag.
“You evil... vile... creature,” he sputters.
“Yeah, and don’t you forget it.” I draw a deep breath and stare into Wesley’s enraged face. “Don’t worry mate, I won’t be doing it to anyone else. Angel’s mine. Angel wants to be claimed as mine, and I want to claim him. It’s as simple as that, and it doesn’t concern you or anyone else, *only* Angel and me.” I smile again, and stand. It’s time to get Angel ready, now I’ve made sure Wesley doesn’t know anything. I turn on my heel and leave him staring infuriated at me.
Even Cordelia, Fred and Gunn remain silent, and I know they have listened to the whole conversation. The thing is, I don’t want any of them knowing about what this bond means for Angel and me. I’m not even sure I understand it. I just know it will make us closer, that I’ll never be able to leave him and he can’t ever live without me. It’s a huge step, but he needs my commitment.
You know that Vampires don’t have any mating rituals, unlike so many other demons or even humans. We don’t marry, mate or anything. We claim, sire or thrall. Nothing more. We aren’t supposed to love, or feel the depth of emotions that humans do. We were made to kill, feed and hunt. We procreate by Siring, which is the most emotional and attached to family we ever get. Our Childer stay with us until they reach certain maturity, or some never leave their sires. Darla spent a hundred years with the master before she left to sire her own. Angelus remained 150 years with his sire. Drusilla was a Childe that would have never flown the coup. To her - Angel was her everything. Me, I don’t know because I only had between 1800-1898 to live with my sire, Angelus. After that he was cursed with a soul and ran away. Sometimes I wonder how long I would have stayed with him, and also if he would ever have let me go. My own Childe is so young compared to me and my clan, but he has the abilities, knowledge and strength of a master vampire. Yet, I know I don’t want him to ever leave me. He is my creation, my beloved, my Childe, and my everything.
Good grief, I’m getting soft in my old age! I open the bedroom door, and look in upon Angel sleeping, spread out and naked on the bed. What the hell, he’s worth it.
~*~*~*~
24 hours later, and it’s time for the ritual. I haven’t used our room, but one on the top floor, far away from mortal interference. There’s a bed with chains on each post, a large steel bucket with burning coals ready for my brand, water to cool his skin, then a steel bath filled with scented water, and lastly herbs and a human bone cup. That was the hardest part of this ritual to find. Luckily, a guy at Caritas had one available for me to buy. I know from the information given to me, it has to be human and real bone. I’m don’t know why it has to be so. I just made sure everything was correct for the ritual implanted in my head by the Oracles. I look around the finished room, and sigh. Do I really want this? Angel can never leave me. I can never leave him. No, he needs this. He needs to know that I... I... damn it. Why after all this time it’s still so hard to say that damn word? I... I... love him.
Enough thinking, time for action. I walk downstairs, stare over the banister and wait for my Childe. It’s strange, but at any moment now he’s gonna look up and know I’m here. After 5 seconds he does, and something comes alive in his eyes. He knows it’s time. He puts down some papers and walks towards the stairs.
“Angel... Angel, don’t do this,” Cordelia calls out, noticing him leaving. “Wesley doesn’t know anything about this Ritual. It’s so ancient and... please, Angel, just wait.”
“I can’t, Cordelia,” he kisses her forehead and walks up the stairs.
When he reaches me, I don’t speak, but just lead him up to the room I’ve prepared. I open the door, walk in and with great ceremony pick up the brand given by the Oracles. I look over to the door to see him standing there, catching my eye, and he seems to guess what he has to do. Without thought he casually strips off, walks over to and drops to his knees before me. His eyes on the floor, his hands resting on his thighs.
“Who do you belong to, Childe?” I ask, starting the ritual. He could end this now. Say himself, and that would end the whole thing.
“To you, and only you, Sire,” he responds, keeping his position.
“Look up,” I command. Angel watches as I place the brand into the burning coals. It hisses as the cold metal starts to heat, and soon it’s going to be ready. Ready to use on my Childe’s perfect skin. The thought sends bolts of desire from my head down to my toes, but also apprehension. I don’t know how since you can’t scar a vampire, but I know this brand will scar him. No! This is no time for having second thoughts.
I hold out my hand and Angel takes it in his. “Come Childe, you must be cleansed.” Angel rises to his feet, and follows me as I guide him over to the steel bath. The water is scented with jasmine, mint, and one more ingredient. A few drops of holy water. Not enough to cause injury or burns, but enough to sting.
Angel’s POV:
This is really it. Oh god, I can’t... I don’t... Okay, I don’t know what I want. I know I have butterflies in my stomach. I never thought a vampire could experience that. I feel light-headed and nervous, yet excited at the same time. I do know that deep down I need this. I *have* to have a connection with Spike. Damn, I sound obsessive. I guess I am. I’ve just never felt this way about anyone, until Spike. My sire.
He asks me whom I belong to, and I’m betting this is where the ritual starts. I’m surprised by Spike’s stance; he looks nervous, anxious even. I answer him with all my heart. I know it’s sappy, but true.
“To you, and only you, Sire.”
Spike’s eyes brighten, and he tells me to lift my eyes. I do and I watch with lessening nervousness as he places the iron brand into the hot coals. My mind rebels suddenly at the pain, but I know - since Angelus has tortured with them before - the pain is going to be sharp, but quick.
“Come Childe, you must be cleansed.”
Spike offers his hand, and I let my fingers slide in-between his. He pulls slightly and I stand, letting him guide me over to a steel bathtub. It’s a little small, I’m going to have to just sit in it, but I guess the ritual needs me to be clean. I can smell jasmine, and what I think is mint. An unusual combination, but I don’t think I should ask Spike at this time. I don’t think I’m really allowed to speak unless spoken to. My curiosity is killing me, but I can wait. After the ritual we shall have all the time in the world.
Spike stands by the tub, and lets go of my hand. “Sit, Childe,” he commands.
I take a breath, lift my foot and dip it into the warm water. “Shhh...” I hiss, shutting up quickly when Spike gives me a harsh look. The water stings my foot, and I’ve just realised what else is in there. Holy water. I grit my teeth, making sure not to utter another word, and stand into the tub. The water continues to sting my skin, but I try to ignore it and slowly sit down.
I look down and notice my pale skin is now slightly tinged with red. Spike says nothing, but leans down and picks up a bone cup. I’m guessing that it is human bone, this is a vampire ritual after all. I’m silent as Spike kneels beside the tub, and dips the cup into the water. He lifts it over my head and lets the purified water fall.
I swallow my groans as the holy water stings my scalp and face. I let him continue, pouring more and more water all over my body. Then he starts to chant. I couldn’t tell anyone what the words meant, for it was a language I’ve never heard. Spike told me during our talk that the Oracles had given the knowledge of this ritual, so I assume it’s a part of it. I’m dying to know what it means. The question is on the tip of my tongue, but I don’t... can’t ask. I am the Childe here, and I’ve not been given permission to speak.
With more and more water poured over my body, my skin looks to have an almost human healthy glow to it. The trouble is my whole body is stinging, even my cock which is making this very distracting, also a little embarrassing. I’m hard. Very hard, erect, and to my shame, dripping. No... not shame. Spike understands how pain works on my vampire body because it has the same effect on him. I glance down at my erection and Spike laughs slightly, before continuing with his chanting. I catch his eyes, and they sparkle with knowledge.
“Turn over Childe,” he orders, switching to English.
I do, getting on my hands and knees in the tub, my feet hanging out the side.
“You are to be pure again. Pure for your master, so no other can touch you. Do you understand Childe?” Spike asks in that sire tone he’s developed.
“Yes, Sire,” I answer, quickly grasping what he means. Suddenly, I *really* do. Spike fills the cup, and I feel his fingers part my butt cheeks. I can’t help but give a soft yelp, knowing this is going to be uncomfortable. Spike pours the water over my crack, and then scopes up more. This time two fingers are pressed into my anus, and he parts me. The cup is placed against my opening, and the water poured in.
“Sssshhhittt,” I hiss without realising it. A sharp bite on my left buttock quickly informs me I’ve stepped out of line. Spike repeats his cleansing. I bite my tongue, holding back any sound I might make. My hands tremble under me, and Spike starts again with the chanting. It’s strange, but as he continues I begin to feel light-headed, drunk even.
“Stand Childe,” he directs, after cleansing me a couple of more times. I do, wincing as I go. Spike remains on the floor and fills the cup again. I know what’s coming and I bite my tongue. He dips the end of my cock into the cup, pulling back the foreskin. I can’t hold back the groan, partly of pain, but that is quickly overtaken by overwhelming pleasure. He repeats this a couple of more times, and then dries the cup and stands.
“Angel, you okay?” he asks softly as he offers his hand. I take it gratefully, and step out of the tub.
“I feel light-headed,” I mumble. Concerned eyes find mine, but I smile reassuringly him. I might sting from the holy water and the cleansing, but there’s no way I want this to stop now. I’d walk over burning coals if it meant being with Spike.
Spike’s eyes are blurred, and he seems to want to say something. He doesn’t and for that I’m grateful. “Come, Childe,” he directs, returning to that sire voice.
Spike takes my hand again, and leads me over to the bed. “Who do you belong to?” he asks again.
“You Sire, I belong to you,” I mumble out, my mouth feeling like jelly.
“Kneel then, Childe. It is time.”
I do as he asks, and kneel down. My eyes are on the floor and my hands rest on my thighs.
“Hold out your arm.” I hold out the limb, trembling slightly from this strange feeling. Spike takes hold of my wrist, and from a table beside the bed, he takes up an ornate knife. He cuts deep into my skin, opening up the vein. I moan softly with the slight pain, which quickly fades, and watch as he catches my escaping blood with the bone cup. When the cup is full, he puts it aside and pulls my arm to his mouth. His fangs enter my skin and he starts to suck. I groan as Spike continues to drink me down. I guess he’s going to drain me. His eyes find mine, and I stare into their golden depths. I can’t turn away, and even when the darkness comes all I see is his eyes.
Spike’s POV:
The holy water bath looks uncomfortable, but Angel doesn’t say a word. He sits down and I proceed to clean him. His skin doesn’t blister, there isn’t enough, but it turns a light shade of pink. It almost looks alive. I start to chant the incantation that fills my mind. The language is unknown to me, but I kinda understand the general gist.
I am saying something like: I purify my Childe. I burn away the impurities of this world. I remake him as innocent, washing away all those that have touched him. I claim him as mine, now and forever. I vow none shall touch him, he who is of my blood shall be mine and mine alone. His body, mind and sex belong to his sire. For now and for all eternity. I purify my Childe. I purify my Childe.
I continue to chant over and over, washing my Angel. When I reach his sex, I know it’s gonna hurt. Firstly, I cleanse his ass, purify it so none have touched him. Then I take his cock into my hand and purify the head, pulling back the foreskin. He swallows the pain, and I notice his eyes are becoming glazed. I ask him if he’s okay, breaking the rules a little. I’m unsure of his answer, I don’t know if feeling light headed is right or not for this part of the ritual. A part of me wants to stop the binding ritual now. I don’t want to cause him pain, I don’t... Yet, when I look into his eyes, I know Angel needs this. He *needs* to go on. I hold back my questions and continue.
I lead my Childe out of the bath, and prepare to take his blood. This is the second phase to purify him. I bleed him of his un-pure blood. I fill the bone cup, and then continue to drink him down. His blood tastes of him, his personality, his strange humour, and his love. Everything that is Angel is inside his blood. I am there, too. After the ritual, I’ll always be there.
As soon as my Childe passes out, I stop drinking. I lick at my wound, closing it with my salvia. It’s now time for the next step. He’s bloody heavy, but I mange lift Angel up onto the bed, and start securing his hand and feet to each post. They are pulled taunt, and soon he’s lifted off the mattress. His muscles strain and budge, making him look damn gorgeous.
Now, while he sleeps I slip out of my own clothing and return to the steel tub. It’s my turn to be cleansed. I start chanting again. Really just saying I’m purifying myself to claim my Childe, now and forever. That kinda thing. I tell ya one thing, this bloody stuff stings. Soon my skin has that rosy sheen just like Angel’s, and I cleanse my cock like his. I am so glad I won’t be repeating this ritual again.
When I’ve finished I return to the bed, and climb on beside Angel. I pick up the dagger and bring it to my wrist. Making a small cut, I press the wound to his mouth and let Sire’s blood drip inside. After a moment Angel starts to suck, and his eyes flutter under long lashes. I let him take a few good mouthfuls, and then pull away.
“Please,” he whispers. I touch my fingers to his mouth, telling him to be quite. Angel’s eyes flutter open and he looks up at me. For an instant, there is panic in his eyes when he realised he’s been restrained. He struggles a moment, testing the bonds. He discovers very quickly there is no room to manoeuvre. He’s so tightly strung he’s been lifted off the bed.
“Who do you belong to, Childe?” I ask for the third time.
Angel’s eyes find mine, looking calm again and he smiles. “You Sire, I belong to you,” his answer is sure and positive.
I lean over and kiss his bloodied lips, licking it away, then claiming his mouth in a forceful kiss. “I’m going to take you now, Childe. No other shall be allowed to touch you after this.”
Angel shudders at my words as I move to straggle his stretched body. My weight pulls on his arms and legs which make the muscles strain. Angel groans and his head falls back onto the mattress. There’s no pillow, only a sheet. I start my seduction, kissing his neck and licking over his raised scar. The first scar I put on him. My first claim. Angel moans softly as his flesh quivers under me. I can make him come just from biting him there. Still, I don’t want him to come just yet. So I move lower and lick his broad chest, over the expanse of his collarbone, and muzzle his jasmine smelling armpits. Angel lets out another soft moan, and I know he’s trying to hold back his words of pleasure. I move lower and take a dark brown nipple into my mouth.
“ssss...” he hisses between his teeth as I suck and nip. His skin tingles against my tongue, but he tastes so damn perfect - clean and pure. This is what the cleansing meant, it takes away the past and leaves us with just the now.
I leave his first nipple and slide over to take the second into my mouth. I nip at him, running my tongue over the bumps and hollows of the areola. He hardens like stone under my caresses, his abs jumping under my mouth. I chuckle at his body’s responses. I bet it’s killing him not being unable to talk. I take pity, and slide further down his body. I rest myself between his widely spread legs, and lick his taunt stomach muscles. They quiver under my tongue, and tense as I push my tongue into his navel, and flick in and out.
“Want you forever, Childe,” I mumble against his skin, lapping up his clean taste.
Again, the tension increases in his muscles as I go lower. Now, I’m faced with his jutting cock. He’s not allowed to cum yet, there are reasons, but I can’t use anything to hold him back. I can’t use lube or a cock ring, nothing to taint the purity of his vampire body. I’m the only thing that can touch him.
I take the head of his cock into my mouth, and Angel hisses again. I lave the redden skin with my salvia, then suck on his tiny slit. Angel gasps, his body desperately trying to arch into my mouth. A tiny drop of pre-cum forms under my tongue, and I suck it way, rolling his taste around in my mouth. Mmmm... Yummy. My mouth opens wider and I swallow him down. My throat muscles straining around his length. Another loud gasp arises from my Childe, but he holds his tongue. I swallow around him, caressing his corona and lapping at the base of his cock with my tongue. The underbelly throbs as I continue squeezing with my mouth, but as soon as the head starts to swell, I quickly draw away.
Angel lets out an annoyed groan, but I have need for his first orgasm. “Look at me, Childe.” Angel’s head quickly flicks up and he stares into my face. I lean over to the bedside table and pick up the bone cup containing his blood. I lift the cup to my mouth and taste his blood. It burns my tongue, tasting stronger than I’ve ever tasted before. I drain half the cup, and then return to his cock. Angel holds my gaze as I encircle his length with a firm hand and start to pump. I watch his facial muscles twitch and clench, his teeth worrying his bottom lip, and then he starts his usual pre-ejection response of panting.
“Only when I say, Childe,” I warn as his face tightens, and a drop of blood drips from a bitten lip.
After a few hard pumps, I say the word, “Cum, Childe.”
Angel’s eyes close and he arches, his cock almost vibrating in my hand as his ejaculation travels up the length. A drop of opaque liquid appears, and then it’s followed by a sudden arch of Angel’s essence, and I catch it all in the bone cup. The sperm mixes with Angel’s blood, and I stir it with my finger. After about a minute Angel calms enough to open his eyes, and he looks directly at me. I lift the cup to my mouth and swallow more of the burning liquid. It tastes completely of him. The essence and blood of my Childe. I drink half again, but this time lean over, my hand supporting his head, and press the cup to his lips.
“Drink, Childe,” I command and he laps up the dark liquid. I allow him to drink half, then put the cup aside again. Angel licks his lips, and I’m unable to hold back my response. I crush my mouth to his, forcing my tongue into his wet depths, tasting him there in blood and seed. I don’t know how long I kissed him. Only that in the end, I was so desperate to cum I had to break away. I grinned down at his bruised lips and dilated eyes, knowing he’s going to be mine.
Angel’s POV:
The dark liquid of my blood and sperm burns my mouth, but I drink it down as my sire bids. Somehow this ritual seems to have strengthened the blood, or put something magical into it. I don’t know, but blood has never burned before. After I have drunk half, Spike puts the cup aside and crushes his lips to mine. He kisses desperately, cleaning my mouth, to finally pull away when we are both on the edge of orgasm.
He grins down at me, and glides over my form to rest again between my stretched legs. My body aches, but the pain doesn’t really touch me. I hardly notice it, even though I’m tied so tight, I’ve been suspended in the air. Spike’s hands stroke my re-erect cock, kissing the end and licking an away a stray droplet. I groan, and quickly remember I’m not allowed to speak. Still! Now, Spike’s hands move lower, stroking my thighs, lifting my balls and then sniffing at my anus. I feel his nose press against me and I swallow back a yelp.
His head moves and his tongue laps at my tight hole. Pressing against the entrance as if testing it’s shape. I bite my lip for the second time tonight, when suddenly his wet tongue stabs inside me. He flicks it in, and curls the end against the walls of muscle. When I’m about to beg for more, and breaking the rules, he pulls away. His blue eyes dance with desire, and he shifts his body forward, kneeling between my thighs. His strong legs brush against my buttocks, and then I feel his erection at my hole. I guess lube is out of the question.
“I’m going to fill you now, Childe. I’m going to stretch you open and mark you as mine,” Spike growls, his voice overtaken by possessive passion.
I whimper in return, and squeeze my eyes closed as he pushes forward. His hard cock head breaches the tight ring, splitting me open. I bite down harder on my lip, trying to hold back the cries of pleasure, desire and blinding pain. He doesn’t stop moving, his thrusts becoming harsher until he’s all the way in, and his balls slap against my cheeks.
“So bloody tight,” he moans. I don’t think those words are part of the ritual.
I want to answer, and tell him how magnificent this feels. How he fills me completely. How I can sense every inch of his cock inside my passage. How the sensitive tissues scream in desire for him to start moving. But I can’t. I can only smile as Spike’s eyes close, and he starts to move just as I want him to. He pulls all the way out with a small pop, and jabs back in. The outer muscle stretches and relaxes with each thrust, causing wave upon wave of delight. Then his angle changes, his cock head forcibly crashing against my prostate gland, making me pant, and fight hard not to scream.
“Mine,” my sire snarls, back in game face. “Say it!” he growls when I don’t answer.
“Yours!” I yell back as he viciously thrusts back inside me.
I’m not sure how long I can last with Spike pounding within me as if the world will end any second. Along with that, I don’t think I’m supposed to cum either without permission. I want to beg, but I say nothing. I want more, but I cannot speak. I usually don’t care about breaking the rules, but this ritual is too important to me. I don’t want to effect it in the wrong way. I need Spike to claim me. I need him to fill the void I’ve been feeling for well over a month. I need him to make me whole.
Suddenly, Spike bucks and snarls, his body arching and I feel his cool seed bursting forth inside me. His hand wraps around my cock, and holds back my orgasm. I would have sighed in relief that he was helping me if it didn’t hurt so damn much. I feel him continue to fill me, his cock pumping out for what feels like forever. Finally he tenses, and then slumps as if all his energy was poured inside me.
“Wow!” he breathes as I writhe under him as my orgasm is prevented.
Spike gives me a fang filled smirk, and reaches for the cup again. This time however, I don’t get brought off, but he quickly withdrawals from my torn hole, and presses the cup against it. I feel his cum leaking out of me, dripping into my blood and seed. His other hand releases my cock and I gasp as I try to restrain. His fingers press into my used orifice, opening me wider and pulling more of his orgasm out. When he’s had enough, he returns to my cock. In one hand, he holds the cup and then leans down over me.
Oh, please! My prayers are answered when he takes me into his cool mouth and sucks. His eyes stare into mine, giving me permission. I scream my release, filling his mouth. My whole body shudders, and my balls ache with the containment. Finally when he’s licked me clean, I slip from Spike’s mouth.
Spike’s attention returns to the cup and he mixes the liquid with this finger. Then with a quick nip bites his finger and lets his blood flow into the cup. I can’t take my eyes of my glorious sire, his own on me as the cup fills with blood. Finally, when it’s almost full he sucks his finger clean, and stirs the liquid. He leans over my body and holds the cup to my lips, but doesn’t let me drink yet.
“This is my vow to you. You are mine forever. My Childe, my creation, my beloved. Until time ends shall I protect and care for you. I vow that I shall be forever faithful to your body as you shall remain faithful to mine. By taking this blood you shall vow your body, mind and sex to me. You shall belong to me always. You shall hold the rights of most favoured Childe above any others. I can never leave you, abandon you, or unnecessarily hurt you. You shall hold me in thrall forever, Angel.”
I swallow hard, unable to believe my ears. Should I be saying something? No, wait... he said I had to drink. Drink of us. Our bodily fluids. My whole body trembles in anticipation and I open my mouth. Spike gasps, but tilts the cup allowing the dark liquid to flow into my mouth. I taste myself here, and now Spike. The mixture burns my mouth, down my throat, and into my stomach. I feel it throbbing there, and spread through out my whole body. I close my eyes as the room tilts and spins.
Spike’s POV:
I make my vow to Angel. I say the words I need to, but also add my own. About faithfulness and desire. I wonder if he’s going to accept. I want him to. I want my Childe with me forever, and I hope I’ve put that in words enough for him to understand. When my words are finished his pause seems to last for eternity and I start to get agitated. Does he want me? Was all this for nothing?
Then without warning his mouth opens. I release the breath I was holding, even though I don’t breath, but at times of stress it’s like an automatic response. With shaking hands I pour the liquid into his mouth, and he swallows our combined essence.
When the cup is half empty, I lift it away and bring it to my own lips. I swallow it down, the liquid burning my mouth, my throat and deeper into my stomach. I gasp as the burning spreads throughout my body. The room swayes a moment, forcing me to close my eyes. The burning flares inside me, burning its way through every inch of flesh, burning deeper and harder and... then it’s gone.
Suddenly, the sensation disperses and the dizziness abates. I open my eyes and grin. My body feels almost alive. It throbs with power, desire and need. I look down at my Childe, his eyes open and watching me. I know he feels the same. His eyes are dazed with energy. It’s time now to end the ritual. This last part shall be the symbol of my claim. The brand.
I’m bound off the bed; my body feeling pent up with vigour and life. I want to fight, shag, anything, but stay still. Moving over to the coals, I find the iron brand glowing with red-hot heat. I pull it out and stare at the bright end. It’s almost white hot.
“Ready, Childe?” I ask, my energy slightly dissipating with the sudden thought of causing my Childe pain.
“Yes, Sire. Mark me,” he answers, a fearful look returning to his eyes.
“Keep looking at me,” I request and advance towards the bed.
Angel’s whole form quivers, and I smell his fear. I guess he’s glad that this moment he’s securely tied to the bedposts.
“I’ll make it quick,” I promise, gazing into his wide eyes.
He nods, but doesn’t take his eyes of the fiery brand. I’ve already decided where to place it. I knew when I saw the oval shape where it would fit so perfectly. I slide my fingers down his trembling chest, and then slide them around his navel. Angel’s eyes widen even more as he realises where it’s going. I hold the brand with a firm hand, knowing I want to do this damn quick. Just a short, sharp touch against his skin, and then away.
I place the brand above his navel, and Angel whimpers. He must be able to feel the intense heat, so near to his flesh. I swallow my pride and I comfort him with words.
“I love you, Angel. Forever.”
In a flash, I press the white hot iron into his tender flesh. Angel screams, his body arching. Suddenly, I feel a sharp deep pain around my own navel, making me pant as wave upon wave passes through me. I rip the brand away from Angel. I jump up, fling it into a bucket of cold water, and grab a wet cloth for my Childe. Angel, who is still screaming on the bed. Angel’s whose pained voice rips out my insides, making me want to cry.
I jump back on the bed and press the cloth to the burning mark. He moans and writhes, panting and weeping. Then it stops. His whole body goes still. I remember that he’s bound, and quickly release his arms and legs. I lay him gently on the bed, worryingly touching his face. His eyes are closed and his mouth slack.
“Angel! Angel! Please be okay... Angel!” I cry panicked beyond all reasonable control.
Angel’s POV:
Holy Shit! ARRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGHHHHHH...... oh! Wow!
What the hell? I remember Spike pressing the brand to my skin, remembering him telling me he loves me. Then the agonising pain is suddenly gone. Just like a flash as if it never existed. I feel him lay a cool flannel over my navel, I hear him calling for me. I think I’m in shock. It’s just so amazing. I love magical rituals. That is what must have happened - somehow the magic absorbed the pain... or something.
“Spike...” I whisper softly, opening my eyes. I try and touch my waist, but Spike grabs my hand. “No... no, I’m fine.” I push him away and look down, my hand pushing the flannel aside. There around my belly button is Spike’s brand. The raised skin is perfectly healed and has returned back to its normal pale shades. Wow! It’s... it’s beautiful.
“You fucking scared me to bloody death!” Spike howlers, suddenly hitting me around the head.
“Hey!” I yelp. Ducking away from another blow, my eyes catch sight of something and... “Er... Sire, I think you’d better look down.”
“What?” Spike stops mid- strike looking bemused. He glances down and... “What the hell!” he screams. His fingers poke and prod the pale skin of his navel, pulling and rubbing. I don’t think that’s going to change what’s there. He wets his fingers and rubs again. No effect. I can’t help it - I start to laugh. Well, that earns me another slap around the head.
There on Spike’s navel, in an oval around his belly button, is a tattoo. It’s the exact image of my own brand, but this is in inks and colours. The dragon is bright against his pale skin in greens and reds. It’s eyes glowing as if alive, it’s claws are stretched out, and it’s wings ready for flight. Spike rubs frantically at the mark and then touches my own belly. I moan as his touch immediately sends tingles throughout my body, especially to my groin. Of course, Spike notes this and slyly grins.
“It’s so beautiful, Sire,” I breathe, finally finished laughing. I touch his stomach, tracing the outline of the tattoo. He moans. I guess this works both ways. “I’m guessing the ritual worked,” I comment.
“Damn right it worked, it bloody marked me.” I let my fingers fall, but Spike immediately grabs them and presses them back against the mark. I think he *really* likes me touching him there. I trace the dragon with my fingertips, and down below his cock jerks to full erection.
“Marked me too.” Spike’s fingers find my navel again, tracing the raised ridge of scar tissue.
“It’s perfect,” he adds amazed. I can feel it. My flesh has been moulded into a copy of his brand - a 3-D version of the dragon. You can feel its claws, the prominent eyes, the tips of its wings, and the point to the tail. You can even feel the scaled surface of its skin.
“Oh god, Angel,” Spike whispers leaning forward and lapping at my mark with his tongue. I groan loudly as wave after wave of unexpected pleasure burns through me. Even in my desire I make sure I continue to caress my sire as well. “You’re really mine. Forever. I.... I’ve never owned anything before. Not Angelus, not Dru, not Buffy. Nothing... But now... now, I own you.” His voice is soft, gentle and he drops the rough cockney accent.
“Yes, Sire. You own me.” My heart swells with his words, and I couldn’t ask for more. For the first time, in so long I’m finally at peace. I think I know what my real redemption is. It wasn’t becoming human; it was becoming alive and whole with Spike. It’s belonging to someone, forever. And have them belong to me.
“Love you, Spike,” I mumble as I feel my desire rising. He needs not touch anywhere else but my brand. That alone is going to make me cum. As the words leave my mouth, Spike jumps up and crushes his mouth to mine. His hands replacing his tongue at my belly button, and I scream into his mouth as my orgasm suddenly rushes over me. Moments later, I feel more cool cum coat my skin and I know Spike has followed me into ecstasy.
Spike’s POV:
Wow! Twenty-four hours of amazing sex. I’m totally and utterly buggered - figuratively and literally. My cock, my ass, even my mouth aches from over use. I can’t remember the last time I’ve ever felt as this. I guess the ritual got us both a little carried away. It was amazing. There was no pain, or hurt in our lovemaking. The magical residue made sure of that. We could do anything and only feel pure, unadulterated pleasure. After that I think we slept for twenty-four hours.
It’s late afternoon, two days later, when I finally arise and go downstairs. Angel left a few hours earlier because Cordelia had a vision. I missed his presence in our bed. I never want to experience the last month ever again. With this new Childe/Sire bond I don’t think I will. Angel won’t be able to survive without me. Truth is - I don’t think I could continue without him either.
After dinner - pig’s blood - yuck! - I arrived in the lobby to find Angel had just arrived home, and was cleaning his weapons. As soon as I see him, I swear my heart beat. Damn, ritual... it’s going to make me even more soft and sickening sappy. I shiver in disgust, but I still have to smile when he notices me. He gives me that amazing 100-mega-watt smile that makes Cordelia jealous.
“You two seem very happy, maybe overly happy. Are you sure you’re not evil?” She comments staring at us exchanging sly glances.
“I am evil, luv.”
“We’re fine, Cordelia. The ritual didn’t change our personalities or anything,” Angel reassures her.
“Come on, then show us the mark,” she begs, “where did Spike put it?”
“How much money did you put on it?” I ask.
Cordelia rolls her eyes, and grins. I knew they would be having a gamble on where I’d mark Angel.
“Twenty dollars on his butt,” she laughs.
“Mine was ten dollars on his chest,” Fred joins in.
“Hipbone, twenty dollars,” Gunn shouts over from talking to Wesley. I notice that he doesn’t say a word.
I laugh. “Ah! All wrong, show them Angel.”
Angel sighs knowing he’s going to be scrutinised and talked about, which he hates. He unbuttons the bottom of his shirt, and pulls it open. His hands tug slightly at his pants, which makes Cordelia and Fred quickly look away.
“Ewww! Spike, you didn’t put it there!” Cordelia squeals.
“No, he didn’t,” Angel snaps. They turn back and stare at his exposed navel. At my beautiful brand around his belly button, and the perfectly formed ridges of the dragon.
“Wow!” Cordelia gasps, “Wes, look at this!”
They all cluster around Angel’s waist, which makes me growl a little. Even Wesley has a glance, though he looks far from pleased.
“Were there any other effects?” he enquires with a sharp tone.
“Yeah, no pain,” Angel laughs, while stopping questing fingers from touching his new attribute.
“Okay! That’s enough. No touching of what’s mine,” I order. I really don’t like them that near. I certainly don’t like them touching that mark, especially when I made him cum from just doing that. “Oh, there was one other side effect.” I pull up my T-Shirt and reveal the new tattoo.
“Hey, it matches!” Cordelia notices. Clever girl... yeah, right!
“It appeared?” asks Wesley. I’m surprised he got it so quickly.
“Yeah, when I branded Angel this appeared on me. I guess it’s because it is my mark, so I should wear it, too.”
“Yes, I assume so,” he answers, noncommittally.
There’s something wrong with Wesley. What it is, I’m not sure. I mean he’s taking this really strangely. He never acted this way, even when I got my chip out. That’s even more dangerous than the brand. This won’t effect any of them. It’s private between my Childe and me. For the first time, I don’t think I trust him.
Suddenly, a low growl catches my attention. Cordelia tries to touch my tattoo and Angel growls his disapproval.
“Hey, cave-vamp! Don’t growl at me!”
“Then don’t touch him,” Angel snarls back, his voice rough but playful.
“I can touch anyone I want,” Cordelia replies, sticking out her tongue while slapping his arm.
“Same here,” he answers and tries to hit her back. Cordelia avoids him and runs off.
Oh, bloody hell! I sigh. Angel gives chase after Cordelia, making her squeal in joy as she avoids his grasp. I swear that sometimes they are worse than children are. I shake my head, and both Gunn and Fred roll their eyes as Angel chases Cordelia around the lobby.
“I need a fag,” I mutter. Save me from children!
The End.
RR6: Question - Does anyone want to see Angel pregnant with Connor?