Victimized | Chapter Four
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer/ Angel the Series Fanfiction by Majokai Yukiko
Pairing: Angel/Spike, Angelus/William
Warning: Slash. Blood play.
Spoilers: All the way up to Angel Season 5: Damage.
This is an amateur effort and does not intend to infringe on the rights of Joss Whedon, WB, and their associates.
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"You really did it," Eve breathed a sigh of awe and admiration. The man in her bed beckoned at her. With a coy smile, she quickly stripped herself of her clothing and slipped under the covers with him, peppering his broad chest with heated kisses.
Lindsey allowed her to do as she wanted, watching the way her long blonde hair fell wantonly over her shoulders as he thought of a different time when he held another small blonde girl in his arms. His dear one.
His strong long fingers weaved themselves in her hair and yanked her head back to face him. It was strange how two archrivals could have the same taste in bed partners. Perhaps that was the reason why they had became archenemies in the first place.
Flipping their positions so that he was on top of her, Lindsey roughly pressed her wrists against the soft mattress and ravaged her mouth mercilessly. He kept his eyes fixed on the photo on his bedside table; a photo of another short blond that would soon be another major player in his game.
Let's see how fragile souls can be, shall we Angel?
***
"How did this happen?" Wesley looked up at Angel who had just walked down the corridor. Sitting opposite him, Fred was crying, her eyes already red and swollen with tears, and her hands shaking uncontrollably in her lap. Patting her shoulder lightly, Wesley stood up and gestured for Angel to walk into the lab with him.
The room was streaming with medics and cleaners. Angel stared when Knox's dead tortured body was carried past. The lab assistant's eyes were wide open, even in death, his lips parted slightly in a silent scream. Angel stopped the medics and stood by the dead body. Without a word, he gently nudged the dead lids close, and waved the medics away.
His face was contorted with guilt and confusion. Another human under his charge dead and he did not even have the chance this time to even attempt saving him saving him.
"Who did it?" He asked hoarsely. Wesley only pointed to the far end of the room with a raised eyebrow.
For the first time in his two hundred and fifty years of undead existence, Angel had the unpleasant feeling of somebody walking over his grave.
"For Angelus."
Angel had no idea what he was to think about this. Should he take it as an offering from his wayward childe, or should he consider it a challenge? Finally, shoulders slumped; he slowly made his way back to his office. Nobody followed him, and he was glad for that.
Eve was in his office when he returned, sitting comfortably on the couch that they fucked behind at the last office party.
"That's it?" She asked and frowned. "You are just going to let him off? He just killed Knox." She placed a hand on his shoulder and pressed her cell phone into his palm. At such close proximity, she smelled strangely familiar, something he knew but had forgotten. Just as he frowned, in the attempt to identify the smell, her soft deceptive voice interrupted him.
"You are a champion, Angel," she whispered, "You have to do this," and pressed the phone harder against him. Angel stared at the small device as Eve's words resonated in his brain. Shakily, he dialed a familiar number.
"Wes? Get a crack team on this." He closed his eye resignedly. "I want him found." There was no question who the 'he' was referring to.
Beside him, Eve smiled. On with the show.
***
London, 1880
William raised his head and smiled at the dark shadow by his window. Lifting his hand, he beckoned at the figure weakly.
Hot, his entire body was burning; his bones ached with every move he made. His mother said he had the chill, and that he had stayed out in the London night for too long. William wanted to smile. It seemed like a lifetime ago when Cecily rejected him, said he was beneath her, and now, all he could remember was the pain. He wanted this pain to end.
He knew his mother was lying when she said he would get better. She was crying, sniffing into a handkerchief when she last came into his room, patting him to sleep as if he were still a young child. He was dying, and he knew it. He knew that she knew it too, so did the professors at the university who came to visit him.
"Thanks for coming, 'Gelus," William closed his eyes and pulled the covers higher up. In his fevered mind, he could not register why Angelus had not come with the others who came earlier in the afternoon. Or the reason his friend had climbed into his room through the window like a thief instead of ringing the bell and waiting for the maid to let him in. In his fevered mind, William merely continued to smile tiredly at his friend and thanked him for his concern.
"You are dying," Angelus remarked bluntly, pressing the back of his hand against William's sweaty forehead and closed his eyes, as if savoring the heat radiating from the weak human boy.
William nodded, burying himself deeper into the covers.
"It's sad, really, for someone to simply die like this, not leaving a mark on this world. I would have thought you better than this, William."
The English boy felt something rising in him. Cecily's words began to ring in his head. No, he was not beneath her. He was beneath no one. Suddenly, the urgent need to prove himself worthy in Angelus' eyes became overwhelming to him. That need roused his sick and frail body into action. Slowly, he pushed the covers aside and propped himself up on his shoulders.
Angelus smirked.
"I'm afraid I don't have much of a choice in this, 'Gelus." William defended, feeling the shadowed world spin around him.
"What if I do?" The Irishman sat down on the bed and placed a hand on the boy's thigh, leaning cool breath against William's heated skin. "What if I can make you better?"
"You are kind, my friend. But you are no doctor."
"No, I'm not," Angelus admitted. "I'm something far better than that. I'm God. Look, do you trust me?"
Filled with curiosity and the desire to believe in something, or someone, greater and more powerful than himself, William nodded. Angelus' smile grew wider, more predatory, as the man leant in close and whispered against his throat, nipping at the soft skin there.
"Angelus—what are you—?" William felt his face flush in embarrassment. What was his friend doing? He always knew Angelus to be strange in his Irish ways. However, this was beyond friendship. This was blasphemy!
"Shh…there's no God here," Angelus said, as if reading his mind. "There's only us." His hand began to trail down William's thin nightshirt, and pressed against the warm skin hidden by the cloth. His mouth slowly and patiently made its way up to William's perfectly sculpted ear, nibbling slightly at the smooth lobe. William closed his eyes and leant in closer.
"You…you are the devil…" William gasped as Angelus slid his free hand inside his pajamas bottoms, cupping his balls as if testing their weight. The illicitness of their act seemed to arouse him further and finally, with a soft cry, he came.
Angelus wiped his hand on the covers with a grin, as if he had won a battle. Perhaps he had. One would never know.
"Yes, I'm the devil. But I'm also the one who can make you better, not that non-existent God that you worship." Dazed, William could only watch as his friend made his way towards the windows where he came from, and disappeared into the night, as mysteriously as he had come, leaving him with only an inner heat that refused to go away, and a distinct message.
If you think you can trust this devil, come and find me.
***
"Where am I?" was the first thought in his mind when he woke up. Cradling his head painfully with one hand, Spike gradually forced his eyes open and looked around him. The vampire frowned and took a quick look at his watch.
What was the last thing he remembered? He vaguely remembered sitting on the roof and swallowing something white. That was…Spike checked his watch again. That was a day ago. So how the hell did he manage to find himself in the sewers with no memories of the past twenty-four hours to boot?
With some difficulty, he pushed himself up from the ground, letting his vampire senses guide him back home.
If only that bare white apartment Doyle gave him could be considered home.
Spike fumbled with the many pockets of his duster, looking for his keys. It was a feat that he had even managed to find them. Especially considering his current disorientated state, which was only aggravated by his killer migraine and an aftertaste in his mouth of something strangely familiar, but something he could not put his finger on.
He staggered into the apartment and slammed the door behind him, making a beeline for the couch in the living room. Spike shoved the magazines, the empty Jack Daniels bottles, and his Playstation console off of it and collapsed onto the cushions face down.
The last thought he had before he drifted away into unconsciousness once more was that the strange aftertaste in his mouth was blood.
Human blood.
***
"Er…boss?"
Angel looked up towards the doorway where his secretary had just entered. "Yes?" He asked with mock civility. The last thing he needed to deal with now was another blonde vampire with the intelligence of a six year old.
"I just heard the news about what Spike did. You know…with all the gossip mongers and office talk going around?" She raised an eyebrow and glanced nervously at the older vampire, looking out for any sign of irritation. "And I thought…ifyouwouldwanttohavehisaddress?"
"What?!"
Harmony gulped and backed against the door. "Well, pretend I didn't say anything…"
"Harmony!" Angel closed his eyes briefly, and clenched his fists together, praying for calm. "What did you say just now?"
"Well, Spike's new address. He gave it to him after that…you know, Cup of Eternal Torment fiasco?" She shrugged noncommittally. "Just thought you might want it."
"Yes."
Harmony frowned. "Huh?"
"Yes, Harmony, I would like that very much." Damn…what exactly was holding her ears apart if she didn't have a brain between them?
The girl whooped in delight at being able to do something useful and handed a piece of scented stationery to her boss. Angel looked at it and slid in into his shirt pocket.
"And Boss?"
He sighed, wanting more than anything for her to leave so that he could get ready to drive to Spike's new apartment, assuming that place had underground parking. "What now, Harmony?"
"You are not going to stake him, are you?"
Angel froze. That was one question he was afraid to answer himself.
+++
End of Chapter Four
Continue to Chapter Five