CHAPTER 2.2

Moscow, Summer 1909

The horse drawn carriage came to a halt in front of a large townhouse. Warm yellow light was shining through large windows and the sounds of laughter and music drifted down to the new arrivals. Spike was the first to get out of the carriage. He was dressed in much more gentlemanly attire than he felt comfortable with, he even wore gloves and spats, but he was prepared to make the concession for Dru's pleasure and hers alone. He had drawn the line at his hair, though. He liked it long and tied together at the nape of his neck. No way was he going to get it cut and stuck to his head with brilliantine just because everybody else did.

He held out his hand and she placed her own gloved hand on his, with an almost feather light touch, then let herself be lead towards the light.

"Someone's showing off," Spike growled while their carriage drove off. He was in a foul mood, because they had actually paid for their clothes and their transportation. It was well known that the Master of Moscow expected foreign visitors to pay their respects before hunting in what he considered his territory. At Drusilla's insistence Spike had written a horribly stilted letter asking when it would be convenient for them to drop by and within a few hours they had received two invitations for a ball to be held the following night.

"We'll have ourselves a ball," Drusilla exclaimed in anticipation. She clapped her hands gleefully and her eyes sparkled. She had been in a splendid mood ever since they had arrived in Moscow, and quite sane, too.

"That we will, my lovely, that we will." He grinned and twirled his cane.

Spike wasn't really into high society soirees, because he hated the foppish people that attended them, hated them with a passion. But he loved Dru. For her he'd go to as many parties as she liked. Besides, if one avoided all those boring conversations on art and poetry, a vampire could always just inhale the scents and listen to the incessant heartbeats of couples in love. And if all else failed he could always kill one of the pretty girls and let her blood drip into the champagne - Dru liked her blood with bubbles.

They were let in by a human butler who inspected their invitation cards very thoroughly before informing them that the Master would see them later. After handing over their coats and Spike's top hat, the two vampires strolled around.

They noticed at once that most of the guests were human, as were all the visible servants. Beautiful girls in rustling robes, dashing young men in officers' uniforms or elegant morning coats were swirling across the dance floor, swaying to some Austrian waltz.

"Would you care to dance, my beautiful raven," Spike asked, touching her cold hand to his lips.

"Forever and ever, my dashing knight," she answered with a breathless giggle. They joined the other dancers and for a while Spike forgot his dislike of all those high society gits.

He was almost annoyed when a liveried servant appeared to escort them to a meeting with their host. They followed him up a flight of stairs, along a corridor adorned with costly Renaissance paintings, most of which depicted sunny landscapes. Spike had to suppress the sudden urge to slash some of the canvasses to spite their host. He was itching for a nice bout of destruction but since Dru wanted the Master's hospitality, Spike would try not to make a mess of this meeting.

"They say he was building a kingdom in the city of blood, when a Saracen vampire sired him." Drusilla said. "He turned against his sire and vanquished him."

Spike thought he detected awe in her voice and frowned. "So, what?" he snapped.

"He'll hurt you," her voice became momentarily dreamy and her hand which rested lightly on his arm gave him a painful squeeze. "He'll hurt you and he'll try to break you, my little lamb. So, let Mummy do the talking."

The servant stopped in front of a very solid looking door, knocked and opened it for them. The vampires noted that the man kept his eyes averted and they could sense his fear. They walked inside. The man stayed outside and closed the door behind them.

Spike and Drusilla were immediately assaulted by a multitude of smells, most of them sickly sweet. They stood inside a windowless room that looked like a strange mixture between library, laboratory and torture chamber. It was furnished with a wooden lectern and a table laden with scales, pestles and other alchemical tools. There was a cast iron brazier and a dozen candlesticks with burning fat yellow candles.

Three walls were covered by shelves, one of which contained huge and dusty smelling tomes that were bound in strange materials, leather, demon skin, human skin. The other two shelves housed hundreds of colorful vials and jars, their exotic contents exuding strange aromas.

However, amidst all the eye candy in the room, Spike and Drusilla's eyes were drawn to the fourth wall. It was studded with several sets of iron manacles. A good looking man, strong, with brown hair and hazel eyes, was chained to that wall - and he was entirely naked. He was shivering with fear but appeared slightly dazed. His beauty was yet unmarred.

Spike could feel his hunger rising and knew Drusilla felt the same. They glanced around, but the Master, the vampire they had come to meet, was nowhere to be seen.

"Oh look, Spike, what a delicious treat," Drusilla exclaimed enthusiastically. "He looks just like Daddy, don't you think? My tummy's growling. Can I have him?"

Spike tilted his head. Dru was right, the human looked vaguely like Angelus. "He's playing games," Spike said. He felt like he was running out of patience. He took a silver cigarette case out of his inner pocket and lit himself a smoke. "Didn't you say he did his own sire in? Think he's trying to mess with your head, Dru."

But his beloved paid no heed. She drifted over towards the captive and ran her slender hands appreciatively over his body. The man groaned.

"Dru!"

"Just a little taste..." Drusilla begged. Spike realized his dark beauty had forgotten the fineries of vampire etiquette. He walked over to her and stayed her hand. She slipped into game face, quite determined to drain the captive here and now, but Spike drew her into a kiss that was almost brutal, the way she liked it, slamming her back against the wall, one hand on her waist the other bunching up her skirt to touch naked skin. She laughed throatily and her human face re-emerged.

"Naughty," she cooed happily.

"Dru. Listen to me. The Master, the Crusader, where is he? I'm sure he's here, somewhere, watching." Dru turned to look at the man who looked so much like her sire but Spike took her face between his hands and forced her to look at him. "Now, I know you're feeling peckish and he's a right morsel, but if you take him now, you'll have to pay the Crusader for him. You hear me?" He held her and watched as the single mindedness left her.

"You are right, my handsome prince," she said, then her eyes got a distant look and she began to sway, opening herself to the psychic world. "I can see you," she announced. "You're wrapped in shadows, watching us. This is no way to treat guests. I shall be very cross." She turned to look at an empty spot in the center of the room.

Suddenly there was a slow clapping sound and a man appeared, right under their eyes. He looked like he was in his mid thirties, not very tall but well built and broad-shouldered. His brown hair was parted in the middle and groomed fashionably and he wore a moustache and a small goatee. His eyes were a cold gray.

He was dressed in a very expensive suit with matching vest and starched lily-white shirt. As for jewellery, he wore a signet ring on his right hand, the gold chain of a pocket watch and golden cuff links. A cane with a golden handle was tucked under his arm. The hands that were applauding them had carefully manicured fingernails.

"Welcome to my house, dear friends," the vampire said effusively in perfect English. "I have heard so much about the beautiful Drusilla and her valiant cavalier William the Bloody, and now you are finally in my city, paying me a visit."

Drusilla smiled. Her anger was quickly forgotten.

Arrogant sod! Spike thought. Didn't waste much time to remind us just who is giving the orders around here. But he gave the Crusader a cocky grin. "Nice place, you've got here" he said cheerfully, and in his best working class accent, not really making it plain whether he was talking about the city or the house. "Oh, and it's Spike!"

"I beg your pardon?"

"My name, it's Spike. And you do well to remember it." Spike smirked, ignoring Drusilla's restraining hand on his arm. He flicked his cigarette butt to the floor and left it to smolder.

The Crusader frowned at Spike's deliberate insolence. "I trust you will punish your... rude little fledgling for his insubordination, my dearest Drusilla?" he suggested with just a hint of menace under that velvety voice.

"Oh, yes, my Spike is a wicked one, I punish him all the time. But boys will be boys." Drusilla answered, obviously beginning to enjoy the hostility of the two male vampires. She smiled radiantly at their host, gracing him with a polite nod. "Thank you for your hospitality, I always wanted to see Moscow," she continued conversationally. "They say, nowhere in the world are the humans more like cattle."

"And you know what they say, Crusader, traveling broadens the mind." Spike added, peeved about having been called a fledgling.

The Crusader changed. In an instant his eyes were gleaming like quicksilver in vaguely lupine features and he was baring his fangs. The hands that grabbed Spike by the neck and slammed him against the wall, were no longer human but equipped with sharp claws.

"Master!" the older vampire hissed.

"What?" Spike asked, forcing a laugh. He was still wearing his human face.

"You will call me Master, or My Lord. And you'll do well to remember that," the older vampire demanded, his claws painfully digging into Spike's neck. Blood trickled down, staining the starched collar.

"I'll do no such thing!" Spike growled. "I'm not one of your sodding minions."

Silver eyes bored into his, and Spike felt the Crusader's mind invading his. "I don't care if you killed a Slayer. You will yield to me!" the older vampire demanded forcefully, bringing eight centuries worth of willpower to bear on the young vampire's mind. It was like being swept away by a spring tide. With a furious howl Spike shuddered and changed. His eyes glowed golden, ridges formed and his fangs came to the fore.

However, the battle between the two vampires was not fought with fangs and claws. It was a battle of minds, a swirl of gold and silver. Spike's pedigree was good, his blood was strong. He was only four generations removed from another master, Heinrich Joseph Nest. But he had never bothered to learn the discipline of mind control. The imperative to drop his gaze and offer his throat to the Master vampire was getting stonger. The only thing that was still standing between him and submission was reckless rage, much stronger and more primeval than pride. Even so, he was losing.

Just as Spike felt the Crusader's silvery pressure smothering his rage he felt new strength surging through him. Drusilla had touched his hand.

The Crusader snarled at her interference and broke the eye contact. He turned towards her, ready to strike her, but she just gave him her most wicked smile, running her pink tongue over her lips and giggling breathlessly. "Don't break him, you know, for I am rather fond of my pretty dolly," she said, not quite calling the older vampire Master but nevertheless acknowledging his seniority.

The Crusader gave his head a slight shake and his human face reappeared. "I would never ignore the wishes of a beautiful lady," he said suavely. He released his grip on Spike's neck and took Drusilla's hand instead, pulling it towards his lips and planting a suggestive kiss on her fingertips.

"As long as you walk the earth," she cooed, "the age of chivalry prevails." She did not withdraw her hand.

"You, my dear Drusilla, may of course call me Konrad," the Crusader said. "But are you quite sure, my dear, that you want to keep that insolent cub around? He wears out my patience quickly."

"He's mine, he stays, " she said, dismissing the topic. She nodded at the captive. "Now, tell me, what are your plans for this delicious bit of temptation?"

"Forgive me, I am neglecting my duties as your host." he said and led her towards the chained human with a flourish. "Shall we dine?"

Spike rubbed his aching neck and pushed his vampire face away. He watched as Drusilla began to work her charms on the Crusader. He felt a slight pang of jealousy, but he didn't really have reason to doubt her. She'd always be his black haired beauty, deliciously irresistible and anybody's match. He truly was a lucky bloke.

***

"After that I tried to stay out of the Crusader's hair. We had permission to hunt, and that was all I cared about. Dru really liked Moscow. Said the city smelled of despair. So, we stayed."

"Wow, Spike, I'm impressed. It took you less than five minutes to really piss off one of the oldest vampires around. Notice how I said impressed, not surprised," Xander said.

Giles looked up from the notes he'd been jotting down. "The only thing surprising is that he's still around to tell the tale," he mumbled.

Spike just folded his arms in front of his chest and cocked one eyebrow.

"So why are we researching this guy again?" Xander asked, while he bit into another donut, "Cause I can't say I'm entirely heartbroken by the fact that Spike's past is catching up with him."

"You're not getting it, are you?" Spike said, visibly irritated. "He's not here for me. I don't know why he's here and what he wants, but it's not me he's after. He'll just do me in en passant, and that's chess speak, children, and means capturing a pawn in passing."

There was an uncomfortable silence.

"So," Giles finally said, after clearing his throat. "The Crusader had human servants and guests?"

"Yeah. We weren't allowed to eat any of them."

"Did he?" Dawn asked.

"What, eat the humans in his house? No. Something along the lines of don't-shit-where-you-eat." Spike shrugged.

"Eew. I mean, weird. Why keep humans around, if you're not going to eat them?" Dawn wanted to know.

"Presumably, because he wanted to establish a facade of normalcy, perhaps even maintain some kind of link to humanity." Giles suggested. "It must have cost him a sizable fortune in bribes to establish himself in the upper echelons of society without drawing undue attention to his nocturnal lifestyle."

"'Link to humanity?' Yeah, well, there are a few vampires who act like that, too pathetic to embrace their new nature. But not the Crusader."

"Look who's talking," Xander interrupted.

"Spike shot him a murderous look but continued. "The Crusader never gave a rat's ass about humanity. If you ask me, he just got off on ordering people around in his breathing days, and stayed that way when he was turned."

There was another silence, while Giles scribbled a slightly edited version of Spike's assessment into his notebook. From the office the sounds of the fax machine could be heard, as it produced a seemingly endless stream of printed paper.

Outside the sun had already set. "Pizza," Xander suddenly exclaimed, as his stomach caught up with the time of day. "If there's going to be more research and some patrolling tonight, we should order some pizza." The remark sparked off serious haggling over toppings and side dishes.

Spike just grabbed his coat - not for warmth but for style - and went outside for a smoke. He couldn't shake a nasty feeling of apprehension.

TBC