Not Invincible

by

Princess McPhee

Disclaimer: Not mine. Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt aren't me. Not even the right gender. So, therefore, I don't own.

Author's Note: Ideas from just about every Angel or Spike fic on the planet. So, if an idea very closely resembles yours, please don't take offense.

Author's Note 2: This story has been, up till this point, platonic. Now, I'm struggling with the decision on whether to keep it that way. Opinions?

Summary: Spike goes to Angel, after Buffy beats up on him the latest time. AU from 'Dead Things'.

Rating: R

Chapter Four

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I don't find Spike's scent anywhere. I consider calling Buffy and asking if he's back in Sunnydale, but my feelings about her are too mixed up right now. As far as I can tell, he didn't have much real contact with anyone else, so they might not even know if he's back. So, it wouldn't do much good to call them. Not to mention, I hear that just about everyone lives at the Summers' home, now.

So, at four am, after nearly four hours of searching for my wayward childe, I give up. Going back to the hotel, I curse him all the way. "I swear, if he shows up high on anything, I'm going to..." I can't quite bring myself to say I'll stake him, though. I'm not even entirely sure why.

Gunn's crashed out on the couch in the lobby when I return, and he awakes as the door opens. "Hey, man," He greets me, waving lazily with one hand, and then goes back to sleep. I hang up my coat, and head quietly up the stairs.

Lorne's with Conner, and they're both asleep, the Host in the rocking chair, and my son in his crib. I smile at them, and tiptoe out, into my room. Throwing off my boots and pants, I crawl into bed, too tired to bother with pajamas or a clean shirt.

I sleep steadily for about two hours. When the rising of the sun signals to Conner that it's time to awake, I stumble sleepily from my room, heading for the kitchen. Lorne intercepts me halfway there. "Hey, Angelcakes, go back to bed," He says. "I've got Conner."

"It's okay. I got it." I must admit, I don't sound very convincing, even to my own ears.

"I mean it." He gives me that look, and I nod, yawning.

"Thanks."

"No problem."

I don't re-awaken until noon. After I shower and clothe myself, I head downstairs. It's like a repeat of last night, and an eerily close one, too.

Gunn is sharpening the weapons in the glass display case, one at a time, and then oiling and cleaning them. Wesley is reading some incredibly thick tome, the only person I know who can actually look interested in something with 8-font and four thousand pages. Lorne is cooing at Conner, who's giggling softly from his bassinette.

Cordy's doing her nails. Fred's on the computer again. And Spike's door is closed.

"Is he in there?" I ask. Gunn nods.

"Came back about five-thirty," He replies. "Looked more than a little drunk."

I sigh, and head purposefully for my childe's room.

Spike is asleep on the couch, snoring softly. Why he breathes when he doesn't have to, I have no clue. That's just Spike.

The curtains are drawn so that the direct sunlight doesn't fry him, but it isn't actually all that dark. Spike likes light, I remember. William liked pastel colors and gentle shades. Maybe a part of Spike still does.

It wasn't just the power thing that made him want the Gem of Amara. Sure, that was the major incentive, but I remember, back when we all ran together, that William would sometimes open a window in the house where we were living, and look out of it from the side, risking injury from the sun. I got awfully pissed over that the first few times. But then I realized that he just liked the light.

I pull the covers off of him, roughly. He awakens without a sound, his eyes just open, and he's awake.

I stare down at him, daring him to say something. He doesn't, though. He's drunk, alright. I can smell whiskey and bourbon and pig's blood on him, and the faint scent of sex. He hasn't actually had sex, but he's been doing some major making out. Probably got to third base with her, whoever she was, then flashed his fangs to give himself a thrill. It's a sickly Spike-type thing to do.

"You're drunk."

He shrugs. "What of it?"
My tone is hard and cold. "Yesterday, I bled myself for you, because you were in agony from trying to get high on cocaine. Then you go out and drink yourself into a stupor. Real great thanks, William."

He explodes at this. I can tell he's only been barely tolerating the name, and the time's come when he won't, anymore. "It's Spike, you bloody moron! I haven't been soddin' William in a century!"

I smile a little, coldly. "I say what I see. Spike's a master vampire. William's a fledgling. It's not hard to tell which one's controlling you now."

He glares at me, but doesn't say a word.

Abruptly, I grab him by the arm and drag him up. "Hey!" He cries. "What the fuck?"

I ignore him, and pull him through the lobby and into the bathroom. Running cold water from the faucet, I grab his head and shove it in the sink. Not afraid of him suffocating, since he doesn't need to breathe, I hold him there for a good minute or two, until he stops struggling. When I let him up, there's murder in his eyes, but also a kind of necessary submission. Good. Maybe he's finally recognized that he has to obey my rules.

I shove him a towel, and leave. I can hear him rubbing his head, hard, and then he stalks through the lobby, back into his room, and slams the door. I look at it, a tiny smile creeping onto my face.

Then I turn and see that the whole lobby, full of practically every person I know, has just witnessed me dominating Spike.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Night comes faster than I think it's supposed to, or at least, it feels like it does. I wrack my brain for ways to deal with my childe tonight, but it's not working very good right now. I think it's the worry over what my friends saw, earlier today.

It's been a hard sell, trying to be who I am in front of humans. I refused to drink in front of Buffy. I'll drink with the others around, here, but I still maintain a very human front. There's a lot of vampire in me, and I don't release it when my friends are near, usually.

But Spike was just asking for it, today, mouthing off to his sire. He's been treating me with disrespect ever since he got here, and though I'm actually willing to ignore it, he's never going to listen to me until I get some respect out of him. And he's a vampire. Dominating him is the only way I'm going to get that respect.

Finally figuring out something, I reach under my bed. It's a box of crap that I've collected over the years, the only things I saved from my time as Angelus, mixed with the only things I brought from Sunnydale. Rifling through it, trying not to look at the things that bring so many painful memories back, I find what I'm searching for.

Stalking downstairs, I find Gunn getting ready for patrol. "Cordy had a vision," He says. "Fourth and main. In about an hour."

I nod tersely. "I'll be ready in a few minutes." Stalking into Spike's room, I grab the younger vampire from where he's sitting in front of the television, and drag him into the lobby. Everyone looks up.

Protesting all the way, with some more colorful cursing than I wanted to know he'd learned, he digs in his heels all the way to the staircase.

Everything in this hotel has been broken at least a couple of times. Except the staircase railing. I've wondered, a few times, if it's magically protected. It's completely possible. Once, a while ago, I had Cordy and Wesley tie me to it, and I know I can't break it. I'm counting on the fact that Spike isn't much, if any, stronger than me.

Pulling the things I got out of the box from my pocket, I snap one end around his wrist, and then pull him tight to the staircase and snap it tight around the railing. Pulling over a stool, I push him down until he's sitting on it, and then use the other pair of handcuffs to secure his other wrist. Spike can pick any kind of lock that was ever created, and I don't want him to have a hand free to do that.

Leaning into his ear, I smile a little maliciously, and whisper to him. "You're not going anywhere tonight, boy."

I pull away and look at him. Fire's flying through his eyes, and his temper is raging, but he's outwardly calm. Then his throat muscles tense, and he spits in my face. "Fuck you, Angelus."

Hauling back, I slap him, hard. It won't do any damage, but it will remind him of his place. Then I leave, Gunn's smile the only expression in the room besides pure shock. I was right. I haven't been showing them much of what a vampire really is.

Well, I guess they're going to learn fast, seeing as I need Spike to remember his place, and this is the only way I'm going to be able to do it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The demons in Cordy's vision are wimps, and Gunn and I take them out pretty easily. A lot of times there are specifics about what can kill a demon, you know, silver for hellhounds and werewolves, wood for vampires, copper for some demons, I've even fought demons that required having pieces of nickel alloy shoved through their skulls before they died. Let me tell you, that was an interesting battle.

But these ones don't seem to fare too well against your ordinary slash-and-hack, as Gunn calls it, so I guess we're lucky. Nickel spikes aren't too easy to come across, especially for the prices we can afford.

Gunn doesn't ask a single question about Spike, thank god. I know Cordy's going to be worse than an interrogation when we get back, especially if my childe spent all night baiting her, which I wouldn't put past him. When he's hurting, he lashes out at other people, rather than dealing with his own pain. Like a lot of men. Only Spike isn't a man.

It doesn't seem to matter.

I can't help wishing that Spike hadn't chosen right now to come to LA. I'm still new to this fatherhood thing, and getting used to three hours of sleep a night. Fred's still learning the ropes, and though I'm sure she'll make a useful part of the team soon, right now she requires a lot of hand-holding. Which Gunn is happily 'helping' out with. To the point of being utterly useless when I need him, sometimes.

Wiping down the blades of the weapons so that the demon-blood doesn't cake on, I throw the final axe in the back of the car. "Ready?" Gunn nods, and we're off.

I like him. Only when I accidentally abuse Wes do I get any guff from him. He's street-hardened, so he's not as shocked as the rest of the gang at what I do when I occasionally revert to my vampiric ways, he has a good sense of humor and a crackling wit, and he's strong enough to be fair. Never takes anything he shouldn't take, never gives anything he shouldn't give. It's not an easy thing to be, emotions tend to get in the way a lot.

The ride back is silent, but it's not uncomfortable. Gunn saw me dominate Spike, and didn't seem to mind. In fact, he didn't even seem to barely notice, and when I locked my childe to the banister, I swear he smiled a little. I guess living and fighting vampires on the streets and actually being one of the infamous undead aren't so different.

We enter into the lobby, and it's dark. It's about nine-thirty, so I know that Conner should be asleep, but I wonder briefly where the others are. It doesn't take long to figure out.

Voices are drifting from Wesley's office, if I perk up my ears enough, I can just make them out. They're talking about what I did to Spike, Cordy arguing that I did the right thing and what did they care about Spike for anyway? Wesley arguing that I was never that hard on living creatures and something must be wrong, and Fred interjecting occasionally that I must have a good reason. I smile a little.

Gunn stomps into the lobby, flips the switch to the light high on the ceiling, and hands me several weapons. I take them, open the display case, and start to load them back where they go. I'm not incredibly fastidious, though I do like to live in a neat environment, but a weapons case has to be neat. It could be a matter of life or death some day, for me or any other member of the AI team. Gunn and I handle this case, no one else. Even Wesley, though he is presumably the boss of this organization, asks before he goes into it.

Cordy and Fred have no interest. The case only contains specialty weapons anyway, there's not reason for them to. We have stakes everywhere around the lobby, a couple of axes hung by the door, a few swords by the basement entrance, though most of my collection is downstairs. Each of us have probably several billion-dollar bounties out on us, we need to be able to protect ourselves at all times. The weapons in the case are merely for planned fights, like tonight's.

The rest of my crew appears as they hear us. "Conner's asleep," Cordy says, unnecessarily.

I nod. "Thanks." Nothing further passes between us, the tension in the room high.

Finally, just as Gunn is going back out to park the car and I'm securing the last sword in place with its leather straps and then closing the glass case, Wesley breaks the silence. "Angel..."

I turn to face him, certain what I'm about to hear is regarding my idiot childe. "Yes?"

"Are you sure what you did to Spike was... strictly necessary?"

I shrug a little, and give Wes the truth, which is an answer the last thing he expected to hear. "No."

There's a moment's pause. "No?" He asks.

"No. But I'm his sire, it's my prerogative to treat him how I please."

Wesley looks vaguely shocked. "Are you certain... this will help him?"

I shake my head. "No."

Cordy finally gets frustrated, and takes over from Wesley's stumbling attempts to make me hear what they were discussing the kitchen. "For Gods' sake, Angel, what Wesley's trying to ask is why the hell did you stick Spike's head under the faucet and nearly drown him, and then chain him to the staircase?"

From the dark in the corner of the room comes a voice so irritating and at the same time, calming, that it can only belong to my childe. "He never tells me."

"Oh, shut up." Apparently Cordy doesn't care enough about Spike to be nice to him.

I shrug again. "Because he needed to remember to have some respect."

Cordy looks exasperated, but she won't give up. "There was nothing about respect in that little... macho display, Angel."

Spike chuckles from the corner. I turn to face him, and give a little growl. Then I go back to Cordelia. "Can we talk somewhere else?" I ask. She nods, and wordlessly leads me back into Wesley's now-empty office. Wes goes to help Gunn with unloading some of the heavier stuff.

Cordelia jumps up a little and sits on the edge of the desk. I lean against the wall, after closing the door behind me. "Cordy..."

"Angel, just spit it out already!"

I catch her eye, and try to drill the importance of this into her. "This doesn't leave this room, okay?"

"Angel-"

"No. Either this stays between you and me, or I treat Spike however I please, and you'll just have to wonder, like the others."

She agrees reluctantly. "Alright."

I take a deep breath, and look away from her. "Did you know Spike came here to put his life in my hands?" I ask her, softly. Meeting her eyes, I see her confusion, but she only just shakes her head.

"No."

"Well, he did. He came in my door and handed me a stake and told me that he was useless and just wanted me to kill him. End it all, because he couldn't bring himself to greet the sunrise."

Cordy breathes softly, gasping a little. "God," She whispers. She doesn't care for Spike, but I think she understands now how much pain he's in.

"Yeah."

There's silence in the little room for a moment, and then Cordy reaches out and pulls me to her. She motions for me to sit down next to her on the desk. I do, and she wraps an arm around me, holding me close.

"I didn't know."

"I didn't tell you."

Pause.

"So, that's why you need Spike to obey you? So that you can be sure when you tell him not to kill himself, that he won't?"

I nod. "Cordy, I need him. He's the only one left in the Order of Aurelius that I can still have contact with. You know if I ever see Dru again, I'll probably be forced to stake her, and Darla and Penn are gone."

She frowns. "He and Dru are the only ones left? Weren't there more of you?"

I shake my head. "Minions. They don't belong to the Order. They're just servants. We were all pretty picky about who we turned as childer. Darla turned only me. I turned Penn and Dru. Dru turned Spike. They're the only childer of the Order, as far as I know."

She nods. "I guess I can understand."

I smile at her, a little painfully. "I hope so."

She fixes me with a stare. "That doesn't mean I like it, or approve, or any of those things, though."

I give her an amused smile now. "I promise I won't think that."

"Good."

There's a long silence, and then she stands to exit the room. I follow her with my eyes, and when she gets to the door, she pauses. "Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Um..."

"What is it, Cordy?"
"Nothing." She walks out.

I wonder briefly what she wanted to talk about, but knowing Cordelia, it was probably completely unrelated. She has a tendency to jump from topic to topic, rather quickly and without warning. I think it's just how her mind works. There's a lot going on in there, contrary to both popular opinion and physical appearances.

I follow her a moment later, tossing the keys to Spike's handcuffs from one hand to the other, back and forth. I pause in front of my wayward childer and just look him up and down for a moment. He pretends to ignore me.

Lapsing into a thick Irish brogue, I start to pace directly in front of him. "If I let ye go, will ye be good, boy?"

Spike spits. At least, this time it's at my feet and not my face. I still slap him upside the head.

Then I grab his head with both hands, one on each side, and force him to meet my gaze. His blue eyes are filled with defiance, but there's a grudging respect there, too. Good. I probably won't have to use any really harsh tactics on him. Things that I was hoping to avoid, considering that the mildest of vampiric domination already has my crew squirming in their seats. "That's not very respectful, me lad."

He glares at me. "Since when did I care about respect?"

I shrug. "I don't know. Maybe ye should, though. Considerin' ye put yer life in me hands."

His eyes drop, but rise to meet mine again, far too quickly. He hasn't given it any real thought, that was just an instinctual reaction.

Reaching down, I open the cuffs on one wrist, and he jerks his hand away from me as quickly as I can get the metal loop open. Silently, I unlock the other, and he steps away from me, rubbing his wrists and glaring, then shaking his hands to make a big show out of the minor discomfort I put him through. What I really hurt, the only thing I hurt, was his pride.

But he has to know that when he came here to put his life in my hands, that it was then free for me to do with as I pleased. And that includes anything I want to do other than killing him, too. Spike may not be much for vampire rules and traditions, but I'm sure he remembers that part, considering what he did, coming here.

He stalks away from me, and I let him go. He retreats into his room and starts piling things up against the door on the inside. Then he remembers this is futile, considering that the door opens outward, and there are distinct sounds of things shattering. The crew looks to me, they're my things that Spike is destroying, and because I ignore it, they sit back and do the same.

I smell cigarette smoke a moment later, and curse softly under my breath. Somehow my childe got a hold of his lighter again. Or found another. I took away his lighter, but I didn't take away the pack of cigarettes because I figured they were useless. I should know better by now. This is Spike, after all. However, I still make no move towards the door, determined to let my childe calm down a bit more before I spring the rest of tonight's unwelcome rules on him.

He does his very best to annoy me for the next two hours. He plays the stereo extremely loudly, so I cut power to the room. He curses, kicks something and destroys more of my property, then starting singing loudly and off-key, probably drunk since he actually has a nice voice. I turn the power back on, and he watches some kind of sports match on television, crowing and cursing and otherwise being obnoxious as he does so.

At quarter to midnight, it's time to turn in. Gunn is gone, Fred's in her room. Cordy disappeared an hour ago, Wesley's packing up to leave. It's just me, my vampire childe, and my biological son.

I knock on the door to the room before stepping in, giving him no time to reply.

"Hey!"

I don't respond to his indignant outburst, simply point towards the door. "Out."

He glares at me. "What the hell for?"

"Because I said so."

He gives me a look that says 'Are you really that stupid?' and I simply stare him down. Eventually, he gives in and exits the room, stopping in the lobby to glare at me some more.

I smile a little, laced slightly with un-disguised malice. "Good. Now, upstairs."

He glares at me, but goes, silently.

When I lead him to my room, he goes instantly crazy. "What?! No, I'm not staying with you, you homosexual pervert!"

I give him a wry look. "Relax, Will. I'm not going to grope you up."

He stands his ground determinedly. "I'm not going in there, Peaches," He informs me.

I smile a little, letting just a bit more of Angelus enter my facial expression. "Yes, you are," I tell him.

He has guts, always has. So he stares at me, and then tells me, like I were a little child, "No. I'm. Bloody. NOT!"

I sigh, tiring of this, and kick the door open with my free foot. Then I grab him and shove him roughly into the room, slamming the door behind me and barring it with my body. "Yes, you are."

He lands on the floor on his side and glares up at me. I don't think I've seen that expression leave his face for more than a few seconds the whole time he's been here. I don't actually like dominating him, contrary to what I'm sure he thinks. I'm not Angelus, and I don't get off on the power of it. But Spike won't listen to anyone he doesn't respect, and as twisted as it is, this is the only way to earn his respect. He's a vampire, after all.

I point to a corner of the room, two hooks held in the wall, a couple feet over Spike's head. His gaze follows my finger, and then follows it again, as I point to the bed. "Those are your choices, Spike. The chains, in which you can spend the entire night hanging by your wrists, which I'm sure are already pretty bruised, or the bed, where you'll wake me up if you try to leave. Choose."

"You think I'm going to sleep in the same bed with you? Are you insane?"

I shrug. "Alright, the chains it is." Picking him up by the nape of his collar, I drag him across the room and affix him carelessly into the chains. He's just a bit too short for this, and I know his wrists are taking too much weight. It pains me to leave him this way, but I do it anyway. He pretends like it's not bothering him at all, and I head off to get ready for bed and check on my son.

I return to the bedroom fifteen minutes later and crawl under the covers, assured that Conner is fine. I purposely face away from Spike, so that he doesn't think I'm keeping an eye on him, since he and I can see extraordinarily well in the dark. No sound comes from that corner of the room for half an hour, at which time I'm starting to get sleepy, and doze off.

A slight sound wakes me a few hours later, nothing more than a little sigh. My first thought is for Conner, but he's sound asleep, I can see his crib from where I lie. I turn to face my other offspring, and watch him silently for a moment, waiting for him to become aware that I'm looking at him.

But he doesn't notice, and I hear the sighing sound again, only this time, there's a little more of a catch in it, and I realize with a start that Spike's crying. Not hard, but crying nonetheless.

Standing silently, I pad over to where he is. He doesn't notice me as I approach, too caught up in his own misery. It isn't the pain, he's been through a lot worse than this. It's the indignity, the pain, and the depression together. He's thoroughly cowed. Tear-tracks run down his cheeks, and he's biting his lower lip.

Grabbing the keys, his eyes open at the first jangle, and he looks at me, his eyes dead and uncaring. Watching impassively as I unlock first one hand, and then the other, draw him to me and hold him tight. Rub his wrists softly, trying to take away some of the ache.

I walk him slowly over to my bed, and put him gently into it. He curls up like a small child, and I can almost imagine him sucking his thumb. I crawl in behind his lithe but tiny body, and wrap my own around it. He snuggles back into my form, and tosses his head a little as he tries to get comfortable.

Forty-five minutes later, I'm thoroughly exhausted and ready for sleep, but haven't allowed myself to drop off, because Spike is still breathing, a sure sign he's awake. He's still, just lying there, curled up against my front, snuggled in the blankets up to his neck, though just like any other vampire, he can't get cold.

Shifting a little, I sigh, and dig my right arm out from under the blankets. Vamping my face, I bring it up to my mouth and pierce it slightly with one fang, a deep puncture wound, fairly large, but not a cut. Blood flows from it steadily, but not strongly.

Reaching around my childe, I rest my arm on his ribs so that I don't have to hold it up. Then I press the bleeding wound to his mouth, something I haven't done in more than a hundred and fifteen years. Only when Will was a very young fledgling, before he even turned five, did he ever take comfort in this form. But now he latches on, nuzzling my wrist with his nose even as he takes care not to spill a drop. The wound is severe enough that as he suckles at it, it will continue to bleed for about five or six minutes before vampiric healing kicks in and it cuts off. Hopefully long enough to lull him to sleep, just like the old days.

The sensation of him pulling on my wrist with his lips, sucking steadily but not too strongly, is enough to bring about considerable nostalgia. As a fledge, Will used to never be able to sleep during the day, despite not sleeping a wink at night, ever. Angelus used this particular technique quite often, and though Darla disapproved considerably, telling him to stop coddling William, he found it worked well.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

London, 1880

This was five or six months after Dru had turned William, and we were still in London. The pickings were good, London was a large city and the occasional missing or dead person didn't turn up the same kind of suspicion that it would in a smaller town. So we stayed, figuring it was as good a place as any to teach William the ways of the vampires.

Not to mention that each of us had been given a chance to take revenge on our families after we'd been turned, and were trying to give William a chance to do the same. He never did, surprisingly enough. William stayed remarkably human during this time, taking it hard that he was now a vampire. The bloodlust ensured that he fed, but other than that, he was determined to remain in a human lifestyle. It was a trying time on all of us. Dru was especially sad that her new toy wasn't an evil fiend, and I considered staking Will a few times myself, never imagining that 'William the Bloody Awful Poet' could some day turn into Spike, master vampire.

It was about noon, and Darla and Dru were sprawled out on one bed in the huge bedroom of the house we'd appropriated, after eating the inhabitants. Dru was rocking and moaning, but fast asleep, and Darla was dead still, looking all the world like what she was, a corpse.

William was at the boarded-over window, looking at the wood planks like he could see through them.

I rose from my bed slowly, miffed that I had to go collect the fledgling again. William was forever getting into trouble, even though he didn't mean to, at this point anyway. Later, he would cause plenty of chaos on purpose, but at this point, he was simply trying to adjust to his new lifestyle as a vampire, and the fact that he now had people to answer to for the first time in his life. Sure, as a human he'd had parents, but William was twenty-three when Dru turned him, and had long-since been on his own. And parents are a little different than vampire sires, as well.

I grabbed his arm roughly, without a word, and dragged him back to bed. He went, willingly enough, and laid beside me on the bed, facing away, for the next hour, softly breathing the whole time.

Eventually, I got fed up. "Would ye stop that infernal noise, boy!"

"I can't."

"What do ye mean ye can't?"
He turned to face me, keeping his eyes down like a proper fledge. "I can't, Sire. When I try, I choke like I'm still alive."

I sighed, knowing it was true, and motioned for him to turn away once again. He did so quickly, knowing by then, the wrath of not listening to Angelus, the Scourge of Europe.

Slitting my wrist quickly and efficiently on my fang, I pressed the dripping cut to William's mouth. He didn't protest, but didn't take it, either, for a long moment. "Suck, boy!"

Complying quickly, he sucked on the cut for a few moments. I listened to his progress, and then issued another instruction. "Now, stop breathing."

William tried his best, but coughed and choked the same as he always did. The cut on my wrist was closed by then, so I re-opened it, and handed it back to him. "Try again."

He did, and this time, though his body shook with the effort at first, managed to stop breathing. I congratulated him. "That's it, boy." When he didn't turn to look at me, I propped myself up on one elbow to look at him. My wrist still clutched to his mouth with one hand, his throat still suckling like a child on a breast, not breathing, William was fast asleep.

I allowed myself a rare smile, and murmured softly more to myself than to the sleeping fledge. "Ah, so that's what it takes to put ye to sleep, aye, William?"

Then, allowing him to keep my wrist, I lay back down behind him and fell into a deep slumber myself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Los Angeles, 2002

Having learned that about Will, I used it far more often than Darla approved of. She didn't seem to mind him getting no sleep because he couldn't seem to make his body conform to vampiric standards, but I couldn't abide by it. It was cruel not to teach a fledgling how to deal with his new unlife, whether it was by acting or not acting. And Angelus, though he was one cruel bastard, didn't like to have things out of his control.

Now, as I listen to his breathing lull and fall off, I run through my head all the wonderful moments William and I shared over the time. A couple of years ago, when Spike first got the chip, I wanted to help him adjust, I really wanted to. But I'd known that Spike would never have accepted me, and I couldn't have dealt with more things in my life (or unlife, anyway) at that point, anyway. Leaving Buffy to her own devices was tough enough.

It pains me to think about it, because in a lot of ways I am still a vampire, and what they did to Spike is unthinkable to a vampire, but at the same time, I was glad when I got the news. Glad that there was one of my childer around that I wouldn't have to kill. Glad that I wouldn't have to go through that agony that was my life after killing Darla, the first time, and watching her kill herself, the second. I have a soul now, and I can never allow myself to abide by how Darla, Dru and Penn live and lived, but that doesn't mean I don't remember how things used to be, wish that they could be that simple again sometimes.

There's a price to pay for having a soul, and it's a pretty small one, I think, if this is all it is. But it hurts. It hurts to have a catch to something that means so much to me, to not be able to live my life alongside my love. It hurts to know that Conner will always wonder who his father is, whether he's the man I am now, or the monster I once was, and the monster I was behaving like when he was conceived.

But most of all, it hurt that I had to leave behind the ones I loved. I ran with Darla for a hundred and forty-something years. That isn't time easily erased from a person's memory, and I longed to go back to her so many times, even after that little episode with the baby, in China. My childer had joined the pack later, but they were mine. Made of my will, brought forth into their new forms by my blood. Equally important to me as my sire, if not more so.

And I had to leave it all. I imagine it's akin to being told that your whole family are mass murderers, and if you continue to live with them and associate with them, you have to be a mass murderer, too. It tore me apart for so long that I couldn't help how I felt when Spike was chipped. Couldn't help that little bit of me that always hoped he'd come around to the fight for good, that I could have one of my childer fight alongside me, and I could spend time with him and not be alone in my plight.

This is hardly how I'd imagined it would play out, though.

Spike is so weak now, his will is breaking. Buffy really did a number on him. He's not gone- I watch that twinkle in his eyes every once in a while, and it makes me want to smile, knowing that my impatient William is still in there somewhere, but he's broken. Spike would never let himself behave like this, I have no doubt it's William in my arms right now.

A vampire bond is stronger than a family bond. It's a blood bond, but it's stronger than that, too. It's a life bond, but it's stronger than that. Fledges aren't allowed to speak to or even be around vampires other than their immediate family. Slightly older vampires are forbidden from spending time with other vamps. Only when a vampire becomes a master, is he or she allowed to choose to spend time with other vampires not from the clan. It's a binding rule, but it works. By the time a vampire is a master, their only loyalty is to their family.

At least, that's the way it's supposed to work. I think Spike and I stepped out of the loop a little. And Penn, somewhat. Darla always told me that my incredibly stubborn-ness was passed on every time I turned a childer. I asked her what the explanation for William was, then. She'd just laughed and told me that Will was a creature of his own. She'd always hated him, but I think that was partly because she saw what he was, what he had to potential to be.

Spike stirs in his sleep next to me, interrupting my thoughts, and I lie still, hoping he'll stay asleep. When he does, I relax a little. Then I feel his face change, and his fangs against my wrist. Surprised, I fight the urge to yank it away from him. He doesn't do anything though, just lies there in his game face, and gradually I relax again.

We lie there for long moments, me just thinking, Spike fast asleep. I'm drifting off when he changes positions a little, and my wrist falls from his mouth. It's no longer bleeding, the wound has clotted over and will be healed by tomorrow night, but just the same, when it falls out of his grasp, he whimpers and starts to fidget.

I smile at him, and pull him around so that he's facing me. His hand goes out blindly, and touches my chest. When he's found me, he snuggles up to me as close as he can, his head in my chest and his body curled along mine. I smile, knowing that he's been sleeping through all of this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

When we awaken in the morning, Spike is breathing again, and though he's resting away from me now, touching as little of my body as is possible, I know he's awake. "Good morning, Will."

He doesn't respond for a moment, and then mutters his answer under his breath. "Why are we bloody-well awake in the morning anyway?"

I smile a little. "I'm awake because I have to go spend the day with Conner. What's your excuse?"

Sheepishly, he speaks under his breath again. "Can't sleep."

"Well, you can come spend the day with me, then." He doesn't react negatively as quickly as he would have a couple of days ago, so I push my advantage. After last night, he's feeling the pull of the sire-childe bond much stronger than he has in years. Probably stronger than it has been in a hundred years. I remind myself not to underestimate its power; that Spike hasn't felt this draw in more than a century.

He shrugs as best as he can, lying down in the bed on his side. "'Kay."

We lie there for long moments longer, and eventually I hoist myself out of bed in one long movement. Spike stays there, his blue eyes watching every move I make. It isn't a sensation I've felt since I left the pack, but it's not wholly unpleasant, and I let him watch.

Sire-childe bonds are a funny thing. Some of them turn out more like siblings, some more like mates, some more like human children. Darla turned me with the intention of getting a mate and someone to train and turn into a master vampire, but she never allowed either of us to forget that power she held over me. In that way, she was more like a parent to me than a lot of people who study us, watchers mostly, realize.

Dru was insane by the time I turned her. She was childlike and because of that, she elicited a lot of protective behavior from me, and later, when she'd grown on her grandsire, Darla. But she came to my bed, and in that way we weren't at all like parent and child.

Penn was a tricky one. He was stubborn and wanted nothing but to be on his own. I sat on him a lot. He never did learn to be respectful, though, and one day he up and left. Penn was the most 'child'-like childe in our family, in terms of how the rest of us treated him. For him, Darla was the distant authority figure, I was the immediate authority figure, and Dru was a fuck-toy. He always acted like an adolescent, no matter how old he got. He was a fair amount like Spike, actually, and sometimes I wonder if Dru saw that in William when she chose him to turn.

Spike... well, he was a tricky one. Surprisingly, sometimes Darla would allow him into her bed, but only for the purpose of teaching him. I never heard him come once during those little 'sessions', it was only my sire's screams that filled the air. He was protective of Dru, and in return she worshiped him. He had no use for Penn, and he didn't really know him anyway. Penn was pretty independent by the time William came along, joining the pack only occasionally and unpredictably, for short periods of time.

I don't know what our relationship really was, to be honest. We were never intimate, but we could have been. In a vampire community, it wouldn't have been frowned on in the least, and I certainly never found him lacking in attractiveness. I think it was my desire to keep domination separate from sex, something that was fairly rare in the vampiric world, that kept us apart.

But a lot of evenings, when we got up, William would lie in bed as long as I'd let him, just watching me pad around naked, and I can't say that neither of us ever got aroused from it. We just never did anything about it, together anyway.

I'm done dressing now, and I turn back to the bed to see Spike just watching me with clear eyes and a blank expression. Throwing him his pants, I turn to head out the door. "Up, boy! Meet me in the kitchen." I throw the door shut behind me again before he can respond.

[1] [2] [3] [4]

Back to A Little Part of the Buffiverse

Back to A Little Part of the Buffiverse Fanfic