Disclaimer: All the characters you recognize belong to Joss and Co, which just means Spike and Angel. Dru and Buffy are only really mentioned here, so do they count?
Summary: Angel pays Spike a little visit and leaves with a little souvenir. Set S2 after Spike's paralyzed but before Angel becomes Angelus. Spike/Angel.
AN- This was one of my first Angel/Spike fics, I have –I think– one more kicking round on my HD and originally I was going to make this into a short series, but I actually like it as it is. I am assuming that Angel is Spike's Sire, I prefer this way to actual canon that has Dru as Spike's Sire. Anyway, please review, I love comments. Oh yes, slight warning for blood-play, but it's not really too graphic.
Marked
Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, Angel found himself thinking as he headed towards the factory. He still had to fully recover from the incident at the church, but he had to know.
He knew that Buffy presumed that both Spike and Drusilla were both dead, but he wasn't so sure. He knew that Drusilla was still alive, he could feel it, she invaded his thoughts whenever she could, when he was resting and even when he was awake.
But Spike... He had no idea what had happened to his other Childe, he couldn't feel the younger vampire anymore. It was like the annoying blond had just dropped off of Angel's radar.
This was why Angel was now standing outside the out-of-the-way factory. The building loomed out of the dark above him. He knew Dru wasn't around, she was probably out hunting, or he assumed she was hunting since he couldn't sense her nearby, he just hoped she didn't run into Buffy.
Instead of trying to scale the walls and get in through one of the open windows, Angel chose the door, which, to his surprise, was open.
Several scents still lingered in the doorway; obviously Dru had taken a few lackeys with her for a night on the town. So where was Spike?
The answer came when he heard voices coming from a nearby room.
X
"You stupid bloody idiots!" Spike yelled over the tinny voices on the small television sitting in front of him. The minions who'd brought him his 'dinner' flinched when the bottle of Jack that had been in Spike's hand went flying into the wall behind them.
A small dog let out a bark of surprise and leapt off of Spike's lap, scampered across the floor on its short legs and disappeared into the other room.
One of the minion's went after it, taking his chance of escape, and another joined in the chase for the little dog, eager to be away from the angry Master.
Spike ignored the fact that the puppy's yapping had quieted, as had the sound of the minion's footsteps. He'd been in a good mood before Dru had left, and now, well… now he wasn't feeling so good - the minions mocked him by bringing a scrawny dog for him to drink from instead of a human, which would help him heal faster. His injuries, which were quite extensive as they would be from having an organ crash down on one and being half burned to death and back again, prevented him from feeling a thing below his waist because of the nerve damage, he couldn't even feel his--.
"But… s-she told us to bring you the dog," one of the fledglings dared to say, right to his face. Spike growled, and felt his face shift to that of his demon, the three in front of him cowered back and lowered their eyes, all except the one who'd spoken, who looked him right in the eye, defiant.
Before he'd been turned, the fledgling might have been a quarterback, and he obviously thought that with his size he could easily beat the Master vampire. Inwardly, the peroxide blond smirked as the boy seemed to become more confident and he watched as the one time youth took a step forward. His face returned to normal and he raised an eyebrow while his hand slid down the side of the armchair. "If you don't like it," the boy started, "Take it--."
The fledgling never finished his sentence. Spike watched with satisfaction as the tall vampire crumbled to dust after being impaled on a wooden javelin Spike had found and brought with him from elsewhere. It was really starting to come in handy, three feet long and whittled down to points at both ends. Weapon still in hand, he glanced at the other two and waited for their move. When none came, he placed the javelin across his lap, and reached for another bottle of Jack standing on the small table beside his chair.
Thud!
His head swivelled round as far as it could go, but all he could see was the room behind his chair. The door was partially open and a light breeze was blowing through.
"Dru?" he called, but all he got was another thud in reply. Great, he realized, the bloody front door's open.
"You," he growled, pointing to one of the remaining minion's. "Go shut that bloody door."
The minion nodded and scurried away, the other following swiftly. Spike let them go, knowing he couldn't physically stop them, although he swore to himself that when Dru got back he would kill each one of them. Slowly.
He was torn out of his thoughts when a hand clamped down on his mouth and another settled on his shoulder. The bottle in his hands dropped to the floor and rolled away as his head was wrenched painfully to one side and the scent of his attacker wafted towards him. Angelus? He thought, before trying to loosen his assailant's grip, which only tightened in response as a cold whisper blew gently on his ear.
"Stay still."
To Spike, it brought back memories of him and Angelus hunting after the older vampire had turned him; like the first time they chose their prey and Spike wasn't able to keep still – he could still remember the adrenaline of that first hunt flowing through him – Angelus had grabbed him, shoved him against a very uneven wall and warned him to stay still. Or else... and those were some memorable nights.
"Are there any others here?"
Angel's cold voice brought the younger vamp out of his thoughts and he struggled against his Sire's grip until Angel's hand fell away from his mouth, but rested on his shoulder, as if it was loathe to break the contact.
"What do you think, you ponce?" Spike growled, reaching over to the table where another bottle of Jack was sitting. He had quite an extensive collection – the alcohol helped keep the pain at bay whenever it did show up. "Aside from the ones you've undoubtedly destroyed, there's no one here but me."
"Stand," Angel growled, and Spike felt a slight breeze on the back of his head as Angel stood up behind him.
"Can't," he replied, taking a swig.
"What?"
"I said, I can't. I'm bloody paralyzed, you pillock." The blond growled over his shoulder before leaning back against the headrest so he could look up at his Sire. Angel seemed to tower over Spike, and the younger vamp could see his Sire was thinking about something. Something that was probably the quickest and quietest way to kill him and get out without anyone realizing it was him who did it.
"Miss me?" he quirked when his eyes travelled down Angel's body. He heard his Sire curse under his breath and mutter something that sounded a lot like 'Why did I ever make you?'
Shrugging, Spike took another swig from the bottle, and slouched down in his seat. Although his eyes were on the characters on screen, his body was tense and waiting for Angel to strike; maybe now that the older vampire was on the side of good, he'd be able to do something he'd threatened to do many times before.
When Angel didn't move from behind him, Spike rolled his head back and looked up at his Sire in time to see Angel slide in and out of game face and crouch down behind the chair.
"How long will Dru be gone for?" Angel asked, and Spike felt a shiver travel down his spine at the sound of his Sire's voice and mentally growled; his Sire had left a hundred years ago, and this was not the same vampire that he had known then. No way, not in the least. Still looked like him though, and that was enough to remind Spike of all the things they'd done together.
The blond shrugged, playing with the label and trying to distract himself from the memories. "Dunno. All night probably."
"Good," Angel whispered in his ear. The scent of blood hit Spike's nose, not any blood, not ordinary blood, not Slayer blood, but the blood of his Sire.
"Drink." Angel commanded again, slipping his arm around Spike's neck and offering the blood that was leaking from small cuts on his wrist.
Spike didn't need to be told twice. He vamped and sank his fangs deep into his Sire's flesh. He heard Angel gasp and lean against his exposed neck as he pulled on the precious life giving liquor. Slowly, he could feel his nerves start to tingle, and several burned as the blood flowed through them.
Spike felt the muscles in Angel's forehead shift against his neck, and he tilted his head to the side in a silent offering.
His hands gripped the arms of the chair when Angel's fangs dug deep into his neck. Angel's free hand slid down Spike's chest and pushed the younger vampire back into the chair when Spike arched his back.
Spike's eyes closed at the feel of his Sire, the scent surrounding him. Angel pulled away suddenly and Spike whimpered when Angel's hand lifted from his skin. Blood trickled out the corner of his mouth and his tongue flicked out to capture every single drop.
A moment later, Angel's hands closed around his face and wrenched his head to one side. Spike growled when Angel's lips crashed down on his, his Sire's tongue plunging in to play with his own. After only a second, Angel pulled away, and was gone. Only his scent remained.
Spike's whimpers were lost in the darkness of the factory, and blood trickled from the two puncture wounds on his neck. His Sire's scent was still around him, and he inhaled the distinct odor that only belonged to his Sire. His souled Sire.
The mark on his neck burned, and he placed a hand over it. It was completely healed, and he couldn't help it, his laughter bounced off the walls around him. Angel had bitten him in the exact same place that Angelus had marked him a hundred years before.
He was still smiling when Dru came back, pouting, with the lackeys she'd taken with her in tow. Or what was left of them.
"Had a run in with the slayer?" Spike asked, feeling better than he had in days. Dru scowled at him but didn't say anything. He knew they'd probably end up in a snit, but he couldn't resist. "Seen your dear daddy recently?"
X
Seeing Spike like that had brought forth his demon, he knew his Childe had been weakened, but he didn't expect him to be paralysed. That was the last thing he'd expected to happen to him. Angel paced his apartment from one end to the other, contemplating what he was going to say about the mark that was now on his wrist.
How could he explain to Buffy what he had with his Childe? And how could he expect her to understand what he had had with Spike? Especially now. Now that they'd renewed the bond, he'd heard Spike's quiet whimpers; in fact he could still hear them, even as he paced restlessly around his home.
He looked down at the twin puncture wounds on his wrist, which, thanks to his vampiric healing, had already begun to heal, but he knew that the scars would remain. Always.
His tongue flicked out and licked his Childe's blood off of his lips. He'd almost forgotten how... unique Spike tasted. Almost. He brought his wrist close to his face, Spike's scent still remained, the same as it clung to Angel's clothes, which reminded him that he needed to shower. Buffy would be over soon and she wouldn't recognize the scent, but he knew that she would assume the worst.
Angel licked his lips again, clearing away any droplets of blood, and savoured the taste of his favourite Childe. Lying down on his bed, he willed his body to relax and let his eyes drift shut, telling himself that he'd only rest for a moment before taking a nice long, cold shower. Suddenly his door creaked open, and Buffy's voice uncertainly called out to him.
"Angel?"
End