"Angelus and William the Bloody, together again. Isn't that priceless?" The Don glared at Sirius from his seat in the corner booth. "And your little dog, too. I'm not fooled, Toto. Show yourself."
"Tol' you it wouldn't work," Spike muttered as Sirius shifted into human form.
"I don't believe I've had the pleasure. You are?"
"Sirius Black." A scowl creased his worn features.
The Don offered a half-smile. "Well, well. Enjoying your newfound freedom?" The question met stony silence. "I'm just being polite, young man. No need for that attitude."
"You know why we're here," Angel said impatiently. "Let's get to it."
"You used to be more patient, Angelus. A soul does terrible things to one, doesn't it?"
Spike sucked his cigarette deeply, exhaling through his nose as he once again scanned the massive array of guards. The three of them had closed down Caritas, waiting for the Don to appear. Lorne had assured them that he would, and the elderly vampire arrived just after last call with his princely entourage. It was his custom, Lorne had informed Angel, to hold court after hours (the rights for which he apparently paid a hefty sum).
The Don had changed little from when Spike and Angelus first encountered him in 1894. He dressed better now, to fit the times, and apparently had decided West Coast living would be a nice change from New York. Fifty years of running that kind of demon underground would require a break, Spike mused, though he's still the neatest bastard I ever saw. The yellow tie looked like a mustard stain on the impeccable blue suit, at least to Spike's eye, but the younger vampire had to admit that the demon looked like a respectable business man. Excepting the horns, of course.
"We're not here to talk about my soul. We're here to talk about my artifacts."
"No, I don't suppose we are here to talk about your soul, are we?" He glanced disconcertingly at Spike, though no one other than the two of them noticed the inflection in his voice.
The hairs on the back of Spike's neck stood up. He hadn't discussed those thoughts with anyone.
"There's someone I'd like you to meet. Cass, honey, could you come up here, please?"
From among the tables packed with his minions, friends, and guards, a raven-haired vampiress rose. Spike stared, as did Angel and Sirius, at the woman, easily six and a half feet tall and clad entirely in red leather. Her amber eyes had a distant cast, as if she wasn't really seeing anything. She glided adroitly between the tables and kneeled at the Don's right hand.
"This is Cass. Short for Cassandra. It's not her real name, of course; I do love the classics, though, and she doesn't much mind. She's my … adviser." Spike understood that to mean seer, and wondered what the soul remark really meant with one of those around. Knowing the ponce in the suit, he'd probably find out soon enough. "I knew you'd be here today. Just as I knew Vance would go and get himself killed by trying to go into business alone. So cliché. It's sad, really, that no one has any imagination these days."
"You sayin' he didn't steal that stuff for you, mate?"
"No, William, he most certainly did not. I am a businessman, as you know, not an imbecile. One does not rob from a do-gooder with as much talent as Angelus without an excellent reason, which I did not have. I am quite aware of the difficulties a vendetta with your brooding sire would mean for my operations here."
"Do you have the artifacts?" Angel asked, his temper somewhat mollified.
"Well, there's an interesting question," the vampire answered sarcastically. "Of course I have some of them. I purchased them for fair market value from young Vance."
"Some?" Sirius said.
"Yes, Mr. Black. Some. He sold some to other vendors, and some I believe he still possessed. Put yourself at ease. I will return most of them in exchange for the service you did me in removing him."
"Let me guess," Spike said, breaking the sentence with another puff. "You're going to hold on to the one you think we want most, and then make us bloody well pay for it."
The Don chuckled.
"You never were slow, William. I will certainly attest to that. Mark. Ray." The Don snapped his fingers and two vampires handed a chest to Angel, who opened it and pawed through its contents. He glanced at Spike and shook his head.
"I believe you are seeking the Eye of the Golem, is that correct?" He had the decency not to smirk.
Angel nodded, wondering if the three of them could fight an entire room full of vampires, demons, and sorcerors without dying or destroying his friend's club.
"I am prepared to offer it to you, for a small price."
"Of course," Angel said. "What price would that be?"
"What price did I charge for your lives the last time?"
Comprehension dawned on Angel and Spike's faces. They traded a glance past a confused Sirius.
"That's right, boys. I think I'd like to be entertained. Don't worry, though. Not too much blood and bile. It's a more civilized era, after all. No, just a little reading, then maybe a bedtime story or two.
"Not bloody likely," Spike shouted, knowing full well what the innuendo meant. "If you think …"
"I think you had best do what I require, William. Look around." The volume remained the same, but a note of menace crept into the vampire's voice. The army of followers had risen to its collective feet, and Spike remembered that there was a reason that the Don had made it past his 400th birthday. "Believe me," he said, his eyes boring into Spike's, "in the long run you'll be deeper into the black if you don't get yourself dusted tonight." The Don glanced at the woman in leather.
"Bugger all," Spike whispered, wondering what the damn bitch had seen. "What do you want me to do?"
"Come here." Spike walked over. "Give her your hand."
Tentatively, the blonde vampire extended his hand. Angel and Sirius, watching silently, understood now that the woman had second sight. Angel thought about the Don, who wouldn't give away that bit of information without a good reason. Nor was he petty or vindictive, which might have landed the three of them in a great deal of trouble; he was, in fact, what he claimed to be. A businessman. That meant he had an interest in Spike's reading.
The seer ran her hands over Spike's palm, her cool touch sensual and feather-light. She peered down through him, not really seeing the vampire in front of her, then suddenly gasped and flung his hand away.
Cass retreated from them, every eye in the full club watching her graceful stride as she ascended to the DJ booth. Effortlessly, she reached in and plucked a record from the shelf. Five seconds of Aerosmith blared through the sound system.
"The Prince of Lust has met his match … The witch has brewed her baddest batch … His sword is sharp, and hard as stone …"
As abruptly as it began, the music died. All three of them looked at the Don.
"Peculiar gift, isn't it? She has the sight but can't speak, so she uses the words of others to convey her thoughts. We have a devil of a time deciphering it sometimes, especially when she opens up a book of poetry and starts pointing."
"What does it mean, other than bein' a terrible waste of good instruments?" Spike asked.
"No idea," he said, smiling conspiratorially. "It'll be dead on, though. Take that to heart."
"Why did you have her read him?" Angel asked.
"Oh, because she told me something very interesting about our friend earlier, and I wanted to know more. I'm itching to see his reaction. I'll tell you, William, if you wish. I doubt you would want Angelus to hear it, though." His face shone with glee. "And I do find this prophecy business entertaining." He waggled a finger, calling Spike closer.
Warily, the blonde vampire approached. The Don leaned down and whispered in his ear.
"I know what you're thinking about doing. We were discussing you killing Vance and she put on Soul Man." The burning cigarette fell from Spike's open mouth and bounced on the step. He unconsciously stubbed it out before the floor could catch fire. "Ridiculous, no? But that's how it is when she gets a strong impression. And think on this, William, when you decide what to do: the Prince of Lust will no doubt be a Hellspawn of the major variety. Nothing without a soul can kill one of those." He leaned back and waved a stunned Spike away.
"Spike…"
"Shut up, Peaches. Not for your ears," he said softly.
"If you decide to listen to what I've said, William, come see me again. I may be able to help you," the Don grinned, "for a price, of course. But before then, I think we should finish with this debt."
"Show us the Eye first," Angel growled.
"Very well. Mark?" One of the vampires held up a pendant on a chain.
Angel nodded, recognizing it. "Okay. You have the Eye. What else do we have to do?"
The Don motioned for his supporters to clear the area around Spike and Angel. "Mr. Black, I suggest you come stand here by me." In response to his glare, he added, "I assure you that neither they nor you will be harmed by me or any of mine."
The wizard stood rooted in place.
"Go, Sirius. His word is good," Angel ordered. Spike nodded as well, and Sirius walked away from them. Angel and Spike stood alone within an empty circle fifteen feet across.
"Very good, gentlemen. Very good. Now, William, if you would be so kind as to explain your … nocturnal activities to Angelus?"
"Not a bloody chance, mate. Not in this lifetime."
"You son of a bitch," Angel exclaimed. "I knew it. I knew that chip wouldn't do anything to stop you." He growled and his game face emerged.
"Oh, sod off, Poofulas. I'm not feedin' anymore."
"Bullshit."
"No, he's being quite honest," the Don said, halting Angel's rapid advance on Spike. "Frankly, he's far too busy with the Slayer to be doing anything that might displease her."
Spike glared, silently appraising his options. He knew where this was heading. Question was, could he stop Angel from staking him without killing the bastard? Buffy would never forgive him that, self-defense or not.
"What?"
"William, you will tell Angelus the truth, or you will never gain possession of the Eye of the Golem. I assure you that this is my one and only price."
"Busy with the Slayer?" Angel tried mightily to understand, and then all of a sudden, he did. Very, very clearly. "Oh no … not … you two?"
Spike hesitated, and the secret was out.
An instant later, he lay flat on his back, the lights of Caritas bobbing in and out of view as Angelus' fist intermittently filled his vision.
"Son of a bitch … Pile of dust … Beat you until you bleed to death." Only snippets of the rant made it to Spike's ears as his head bounced off the floor time and again, his mind too foggy from the vicious beating to respond.
Fortunately, his demon burned the fog away as it rose to the fore.
Eyes yellow, fangs bared, Spike let loose an animal's bellow as his demon tore into Angelus. A second later, their positions were reversed, and Spike's fist pummeled Angel's face.
"Amusing to watch them, isn't it, Mr. Black?"
"Sort of," Sirius admitted. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way to end this before one of the vampires had to be swept out.
"Don't worry," the Don said, a smile on his face. "I won't let them kill each other."
"Good," Sirius said, turning to the vampire with his wand peeking out from his hand. "Then I won't have to turn you into a smoldering pile of ash."
"Oh my. Aren't you the cheeky one? That could be hazardous to your own health, you know."
Both of them flinched as Angel tossed Spike into an empty table, loudly shattering it into eight pieces. The blonde staggered to his feet, tasting the blood flowing from his bleeding visage. With a throaty roar, he charged his sire; wild punches flew between them as they lost themselves in their hatred of each other.
"I'll take my chances," Sirius said, his eyes on the Don. "Why do this? Why not just ask for money?"
"Please. Money. How gauche." His eyes turned yellow, focusing on Sirius with deadly intent. "I have my reasons, young man." The eyes flicked to Cass and back. "I have my reasons."
They watched as the fight dragged on, the two vampires so evenly matched that neither could force the other to submit. Angel slammed a metal chair across Spike's back, only to be paid back in spades when Spike ripped a piece of metal railing free and whipped it across Angel's face. The elder vampire lay on the floor unmoving; when Spike closed for the kill, Angel nimbly swung around and rocked his jaw with the full force of both feet. Spike flew backwards, falling to the ground and rolling over several times. Before Angel could finish him off, the vampire leaped to his feet and moved back in, leading with both fists.
After ten more minutes, the Don raised his hand. Six of his people grabbed ahold of Spike, and another six snatched Angel.
"That will be quite enough, gentlemen. Consider your debt paid in full." One of the minions handed the Eye to Spike, who calmed down considerably. Angel still struggled to free himself and tear into his childe, despite the copious amounts of blood draining from his wounds.
"Cut it the hell out, Angelus," Spike said. "She chose me. It's not my fault she likes a man with a bit o' monster."
"I'm not seeing the man, Spike."
"Hey, fuck you, you poncey bastard. Like you have any bleedin' right to defend her! You left her, Soulboy. I'd never do that."
Angel's growl came from deep in his throat. "No, you'd just suck her dry the minute your chip came out."
"She doesn't think so," he countered. "An' you know damn well I won't hurt her, you're just too jealous to admit it. I love the chit." He glared menacingly, his eyes seizing Angel's and holding them. "You can kiss my lily-white arse, though, if you think I'm gonna stand here and prove myself to you." He looked at the Eye. "Let's get outa here, Puddles. Too much hair gel's makin' my eyes water."
Sirius walked away from the Don and towards the door, deciding that Angel would be safe; abandoning him now was preferable to an all-out war between him and Spike.
As they were leaving, Spike let a backwards glance linger on the Don.