AN- Okay this is a real short chapter 4, but I wanted to put up something. Now I have to go clean. Later!
As the sun set, Xander was perched on top of the Bronze smoking a cigarette. Three years ago, everything had been great. Sunnydale had still been full of people, people stupid enough to go out after dark at that. But the Master, the ancient and powerful vampire who had sired him, had had better ideas. He wanted to revolutionize vampirism, so he created the Factory. Machines, Xander thought with disgust. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time- a whole army of machines that drained humans of their blood, drained them alive. It was all downhill from there. Cold blood in bottles and plasma bags. Disgusting.
Before long, the population of Sunnydale had thinned out to those too smart to go out after dark for any reason. Xander remedied that by setting their houses on fire, but eventually they figured that out too and built fireproof shelters in which they spent the night. Damned mortals, so fucking adaptable. With food now scarce, the Master packed up his acolytes and left town, leaving Xander and Willow, once his favorites, and a handful of other vampires to preside over the Hellmouth while he moved on to try his Factory in a more urban location. This left Xander and Willow in a virtual ghost town, picking off the occasional traveler or having to drive miles out of town to feed. Of course, if they left, they were dead, the Master would find out, and have them killed. So there they were, prisoners in that idiotic town that used to be so much fun.
Willow coped the way she always coped, she tortured her 'puppy,' Angel. In fact, she did that much more often than she paid attention to Xander. So, when Willow was out doing whatever it was she did, he'd have his own little chats with Angel. Unlike Willow, who talked and teased and taunted throughout her ministrations, Xander stayed deadly quiet. He never uttered a word. He'd once burned a hole clean through Angel's forearm with a propane torch, another time he'd injected him with a syringe of holy water, but throughout the tortures he inflicted on Angel, he said nothing.
He felt strangely satisfied when he'd seen Spike arrive. He hated the blonde vampire even more than he hated Angel. Cocky, arrogant bastard had waltzed into Sunnydale a few months before the factory had opened, acting like he owned the place, with his idiot mystic of a vampire-girlfriend, Druscilla. It had been instant dislike on all sides, and at the end of the battle, when he and Willow had the two older vampires on the ropes, the Master had ordered them to release them, with a warning never to come back to Sunnydale. Spike's parting comments had been humiliating, but Xander had lucked out in the end: Spike had returned after all, and neither Druscilla nor the Master were there to help him this time.
Then there was the boy, the white haired boy. Xander had a nagging feeling that Willow, when she realized that she simply wasn't careful enough to keep a human alive for long, would want to turn him. Just what Xander needed, an annoying little brother and more competition for Willow's attention.
His bitter brooding was interrupted by pale, soft hands caressing his face. He shut his eyes and smiled.
"Bored, baby?" he asked, nipping at her fingers and playing with locks of blood colored hair.
"Not tonight, I'm not. Come down to the dungeon, I want you to try something," she said. Xander silently got up and let her lead him, wondering what she had in mind.
Down the damp stone stairs they came softly. Willow had done quite the number on Angel, less so on Spike. I'll fix that later, Xander thought, eager to use his years of practice on Angel to make Spike scream for death. But their cell was not the one to which Willow was leading him.
The white haired boy that Willow had dubbed her 'kitty' was sitting in the corner of his cell with his eyes closed.
"Did you miss me, kitty?" Willow purred, draping herself around Xander and licking his earlobe possessively. The boy opened his eyes.
"Well, I would have, but you're an evil crazy bitch. You see my dilemma," he replied. Spike snickered from the other cell at this remark, only to have Xander pick up a barbed metal skewer leaning against the wall, and in one motion spin around and ram it into Spike's stomach, giving it a good twist before he let go. Spike staggered back, spitting out blood.
"I'll deal with you later, old man," Xander said coldly, turning his back on the cell.
"You could at least pull it out first, you snide bastard," Spike muttered, then snarled in pain and fury. Pietro glanced over at Angel, who was casually holding the bloody skewer.
"That was the most fun I've had all year," Angel murmured, a touch of happiness creeping into his normally morose voice.
"Thanks bunches," Spike muttered back. Willow and Xander ignored them both, watching Pietro carefully, Willow whispering in Xander's ear too softly for Pietro to make out what she was saying. His patience quickly wore thin as a small smile appeared on Xander's lips.
"So can I help you two, or are you just gonna start throwing peanuts?" he snapped. Willow gave Pietro a sympathetic look.
"You hungry kitty?" Pietro looked at her cautiously.
"More thirsty, actually…"
"What a coincidence," Xander said, opening the cell door and vamping out. "So am I."
He remembered what Willow had said to him, about how this one was worth not killing, and to be gentle. Gentle wasn't really in Xander's vocabulary, but he reluctantly went for the wrist that Willow had mauled the previous night, tearing away the gauze and biting down. The boy twitched and made a small noise, trying not to cry out.
Xander didn't say anything at all as he broke away from Pietro's arm, the gleam in his hard eyes brighter. Willow leaned past him and took a long drink herself. She got up and licked her lips, replacing the bandage around Pietro's wrist, then the two vampires stepped out of his cell and locked it behind them. Willow smiled benevolently at them all, while Xander just looked hungrier.
"We're gonna go out for a while, kids, you be good while we're gone," Willow said, rattling the ring of keys along the bars of the cell. "Back before dawn."
"Take your time," Pietro muttered.
"You'd better bring the boy back some food and water unless you want him to starve here," Angel shouted after them. He looked across the way to Pietro's cell. "Are you all right?" Pietro rolled his eyes and sighed, rubbing his temple with his good hand.
"Feeling a little anemic. But other than that, peachy swell."
"How did you get here, anyway? Don't you know what this place is?" Angel asked. Pietro laughed a short laugh.
"I know damn well where I am. Where I was anyway. I was in a much better Sunnydale than this, though frankly all of them piss me off on a variety of levels. I was about to kill that jackass," he said, indicating Spike, "For putting my girlfriend in grievous fucking harm's way, and all of the sudden, here we were. Up the creek without a stake."
Spike started to say something snide, but Pietro didn't hear.
Quicksilver? Can you hear me? the voice came, not the voice he wanted to hear, but it'd do for the time being.
Gray? That you?
Sure is. We're coming to get you.
Is Rogue all right? he asked.
Yes, she's with us. Do you have any idea where the vampires are?
The two giving me shit just said they were going out, so watch your backs.
Sit tight, we're on our way.
"Like I've got a choice, Gray," Pietro grumbled out loud. Spike was still ranting. "Look blondie, I stopped listening to you before you ever started talking, so stop wasting whatever it is that makes your vocal cords go."
Angel smirked from the other cell.
"I like you, kid," he said.
"Thanks," Pietro replied, to fatigued and hurting to be flattered. "But I guarantee you don't like me nearly as much as I like me."