Authors note: the spell that Lindsey uses is cobbled together from the
spell used in "Revelations" BTVS season three and some Latin words I
thought sounded cool.
*
This chapter rated R for violence.
*
Five.
Sometime after the monster calling itself Lindsey McDonald had left him, another lackey creeps into the room with food on a tray. It plops the plastic thing down in front of Angel, and skitters off to wait, presumedly for him to finish.
No untensils, nothing for him to try and pick the locks on his manacles with. He decides if they wanted him dead, he would have been dead already, so he eats the food without worry of poison.
He kicks the tray back towards the crouching vampire, and it scrabbles on all fours towards it, picking it up and scuttering out of the large musty room.
He bangs his head slowly on the brick wall behind him, having exhausted all escape scenarios he can think of. He knows that the Navy officials will be looking for him, and Wesley, and of course Buffy. He smiles slightly despite his cracked lip at the memory of their night together.
"What's funny, meatbag?" the English vampire stalks into the room, his platinum hair and long coat making for an interesting, if overly dramatic entrance.
"That's an interesting hair color choice for you, William," Angel says. "What's it called...radioactive?"
He is rewarded for his snarky comment with another crack across the face. This time the angry vampire makes sure he uses his fist with the rings on it.
Angel lets loose a small cry and crumples to the ground, his forehead banging painfully on the dirty concrete.
"Who said you could use my name?" the blond hisses in Angel's ear, having jerked him up right by his short hair. Angel's almost positive he feels a few pieces tear free.
"What do you want me to call you," he chuckles hoarsely, blood running freely down his face, "Nosferatu? Prince Vlad?"
"Bah," spits William, and flings Angel to the ground again, wiping his hand on his coat. "Meatbag, you stink. Gotta clean you up for the event."
"Event? What's going on? You guys having a party? I didn't bring my dress uniform, maybe you should let me go get it," Angel says, and cringes back against the wall as William raises his hand again. He decides that maybe he should stop with the smart alek comments, or risk getting another whack from the enraged demon.
"Get up, mortal. And if you try anything..." William tells Angel, pulling the edge of his duster back, revealing a shiny glimpse of a very large revolver tucked in the vampire's waistband. Angel stands, wavering slightly, a wave a dizzyness cascading over him.
The blond unlocks his chains, and leads him from the room.
*
William unceremoniously pushes Angel into a dank, tiny room that smells vaguely of mildew.
"Shower," he says, throwing a pile of clothes and towels at the human's feet. Angel bends over slowly, feeling like an old man, and picks up the pile.
He shuffles to the shower stall, and hears the clang as the door shuts behind him. There are no windows of any kind in the room, and he slumps down onto a wooden bench next to the shower. Someone has thoughtfully left shampoo and soap, and Angel wonders with a brief thought why the hell would a vampire need cleansing products, before turning on the water as hot as he can without burning himself.
It disturbs him slightly that they want him clean for the 'event'. Come to think of it, the three vampires he has seen so far could pass very easily for human. And the warehouse itself doesn't stink of unwashed bodies. Just mold. And dust. And unfortunately, dried blood.
Being a military operative sometimes has its plusses and minuses.
What the hell is the 'event'? And why the hell do they need him?
He shucks off his now dirty and torn uniform pants and steps into the water. It smells vaguely chlorinated, and again he wonders exactly where he is. Someplace way off the beaten path, otherwise someone would have found him by now.
Maybe they have, and maybe they're dead now, a tiny voice whispers inside his mind. He shakes his head back and forth under the spray, determined not to let his mind wander that route.
After rudimentary bathing, he steps out, towels off, and examines the clothing William had thrown at him.
Black button down shirt and black pants. No shoes.
He shrugs, and puts them on.
*
The blond vampire leads him down the hall, to another exceptionally large area, complete with vaulted ceiling, and hastily assembled benches and chairs. The room is more than two-thirds full, full of vampires, demons, and all manner of creatures, some he's never even heard of before, much less seen.
"Ah, here he is," a voice echoes through the room. Angel feels very small and alone with the eyes of a hundred evil things on him, and he looks to the front of the room, which is lit by torches and candles scattered about at the base of a large lecturn.
"Friends, here is the man I was telling you about. The man who's conversion will bring about the end of the Slayer, and of all human kind on the face of this island, and possibly the world!"
Angel is lightheaded suddenly, and his knees buckle as white spots flare up before his eyes. A hand steadies him, and William is standing next to him as he rights himself.
"Don't faint, blood bag," the vampire hisses, and pinches a hunk of Angel's tricep to wake him up.
Angel grimmaces, and stands up straighter. The demons around him whisper amongst themselves, surprised at his stamina.
"So, let's get started."
*
Angel is forceably pushed to the front of the room toward Lindsey by William. He stumbles once and is roughly dragged to his feet by his hair, and a growl escapes his lips at the pain. William's eyes widen, and a laugh barks from his throat.
"Good choice, Master," he shouts out. "This one's got spirit."
"I know. Why do you think we've been watching him the whole time he's been here? And that happenstance meeting with the Slayer- you couldn't ask for a better volunteer."
They reach the front, and William shoves Angel onto the top of a table he hadn't realized was there. Rough iron manacles are clapped around his wrists and ankles, and leather straps are fastened across his waist and chest.
"So, my friends," Lindsey booms out. "Here we have the first step in the dawning of a new age. The age of fury; the age of blood; the age of darkness. And here we have it's first agent- and the down fall of human kind!"
The vampires and monsters in the room laugh and cheer and clap their hands. Angel is twisting desperately on the table, whipping his head about and tearing at his bonds. All he succeeds in doing is ripping his skin open again at the wrists and feet.
He doesn't care how much skin he has to tear, he's getting out of there. His parents would be completely destroyed if something happened to him. And Wes. There's no way he could possibly explain this to his friend.
And then there's Buffy...
God! He can't leave her. Not when he's just found her.
At the thought of her, a picture in Angel's mind suddenly appears, as if on a grainy screen. He knows that Buffy's coming for him. And she is heavily armed.
He's confused but allows a sliver of hope to reach him. Maybe she'll make it...
"Right. Cover the torches," Lindsey tells the few vamp henchman scattered around him. They comply and douse the large flames with buckets of water. Only the scattered candles remain lit.
Lindsey stalks to the table, and leans over Angel, who is still struggling. "My boy," he says, grasping Angel's chin and holding it still, "I'm so glad I picked you for this. I had originally chosen your friend Wesley, since he has all that weapons knowledge and seems to lean toward the violent. But the fact that you have a relationship with the Slayer! Now that is just too priceless to pass up."
"Leave her out of this," Angel says through clenched teeth. "You want me? Do what you came here to do. Let's just get this over with."
Lindsey glares at Angel a moment, his true face flashing into view briefly. "Alright then, if you insist. William? May I have the book please?"
The blond vampire approaches his Master, and reverently hands him a leather bound book that is obviously very old. So old in fact that dust wafts off the cover as Lindsey opens it.
The 'audience' is deathly quiet, awaiting whatever magick Lindsey is about to perform.
Angel has no clue as to what's going on, but he knows that he will do anything to keep Lindsey's mind off Buffy and on him instead.
"Exorere, Anima Vitae. Prodi ex loco cado cadere cecidi, in hunc mundum caedes. Aeterno abeo conscio lamia, exos anima caedes!"
As Lindsey roars out the last word of his spell, he lunges at Angel, annointing him with a sticky herb, throwing it on his chest, hands and feet. Angel begins to feel a tingling, and where the herb touches him, his skin begins to smoke. He writhes harder now, and yanks with mindless abandon at his chains.
A commotion is heard at the back of the chamber, and Lindsey turns around, facing the now open door.
"Let. Him. Go."
A collective growling is heard throughout the room, and the twang and thock of arrows and the clang of steel reaches Angel's ears. He can't see her, but he can feel her.
"Angel! Hang on," Buffy yells, and he shouts back. "I don't really have a choice, here!"
As the minions engage the Slayer, her helpers, a young redheaded woman and a smallish blond man, chant frantically to keep the hordes of demons off the blond warrior.
As far as Angel can hear, she seems to be doing alright, from the sound of demon grunting and cries of "Ow! Damn, Slayer, that hurts!"
Lindsey, ringed by his faithful lieutenants, twists his body back toward Angel, hissing in rage, the ugly visage of the demon that resides in him coming to the fore.
"She won't make it to you, soldier boy, and you will be her downfall," he spits out, and suddenly is right there, angry unnecccesary breath puffing against Angel's throat.
He opens his mouth wide, and plunges his razor sharp fangs into the soft meat of Angel's neck.
Angel tries to scream; tries to make some kind of noise. All that comes out is a terrified squeak. He can see Buffy in his mind; and his mental scream of anguish is for her, and for what's about to come.
"Angel! No!" Buffy shrieks, and battles her way through the remaining demons, whacking them down as if they are standing still.
The floor trembles, and steam shoots up from several holes in the stone floor. The juncture Buffy is crossing cracks impossibly wide, and the biggest winged beast she's ever seen erupts from the hole, spitting and clawing at her.
She readies her sword, glancing back desperately at her companions, who redouble their magickal efforts to ward off her new attacker.
"Angel? Angel!" she screams, voice raw with tears and fear. The dragon demon swoops at her, flapping its wings and belching fire, while she tries to run around it, avoiding a fiery death.
Lindsey rips Angel's bonds from his chest, and hefts him into a sitting position. He slits a large gash in his own wrist, and holds it to Angel's mouth, the crimson blood flowing like wine past his lips.
He tries not to drink; he sputters, coughs, tries to spit it out. But something in him catches him by the gut, by the throat, by the soul.
He is ravenous.
So he drinks.
*
The demons battling the slayer and the ones frozen by her companions magick pause, watching in unison as the dark haired human gulps greedily from the Master's wrist. Even the dragon creature, halting in midair, looks intrigued.
Then just as suddenly the moment is broken, and the fighting begins again in earnest.
"Angel! Angel!" Buffy shrieks, tears streaming down her face now, as she hacks desperately at the winged monster.
Angel, stupified into submission by the taste of the elixir in his mouth, wants to answer her, but can't.
The wrist is jerked away from him unceremoniously, and he groans in frustration, flailing out for more.
"Release him," Lindsey commands, his voice harsh and his hand wrapped around the gash in his other wrist. The lackeys leap to comply, and unlock Angel's bonds and unstrap the remaining leather tie.
Angel collapses back on the table, a strange feeling of euphoria and a heady sleepiness over coming him. Try as he might, he can't make his body work.
The last thing he hears before slumber claims him are the cries of the Slayer, and the roar of the fire being released by the dragon.
*
Silence. He opens his eyes, and sits up, expecting a rush of dizzyness to accompany him. No. He feels rather good, actually. Strong. The bed he sits up in is a large four poster, and he luxuriates against the feel of the silk sheets, running his hands up and down them.
He stands, crossing the length of the room in three large strides. He tries the door, which is locked.
He thinks a moment, his once mortal brain trying to figure out a way to escape from the room.
Realizing something, he grins, a horrid, feral thing that doesn't resemble his old smile at all. Reaching out a hand, he twists the doorhandle, popping the lock with almost no effort, and steps out into the hall.
"Ah, there you are," a voice reaches him, and he turns around, coming face to face with Lindsey McDonald. "We were wondering when you would wake up."
"How long was I out?" the new vampire asks.
"A day, more or less. How are you feeling?"
"New," he replies, and laughs. "I need to-"suddenly he's doubled over, a bright band of pain like a whipcord around his guts. He opens his mouth as if to vomit, but nothing comes out.
Lindsey laughs, and the other vampire struggles not to pop his annoying head clean off his shoulders. "What's happening to me?" he rasps.
"You need to eat, buddy. Come with me."
The other follows Lindsey down the hall, toward a set of stairs that lead downward.
A strange, tangy smell wafts up at him, and he sniffs the air like a dog, intrigued and powerfully aroused at the same time. His body rapid fires new sensations at him like bullets, and his face contorts automatically. They reach the bottom of the staircase, and enter into a room lined in cages. Two have occupants.
"So, help yourself, brother," Lindsey says, sweeping his arm in an arc toward the cages. Two young women cling to the bars of their prisons, holding each other's hands tightly through the iron.
The new one smiles, dripping saliva from his fangs, and approaches the first cage, ripping the lock off as if it were paper.
"I have keys, you know," Lindsey grumbles, but watches in appreciation as his creation grabs up the hair of his victim, and hauls her to her feet.
"Please, please, please don't hurt me, I have my sister to look after, my parents, they don't know where I am," the woman babbles tearfully, and the new one hesitates, as if not sure what's next.
"Go on, eat!" Lindsey commands, and the vampire growls softly in response, turning his head back to his victim.
He leans close to her, dragging her body against his, a hank of her hair wound around one hand, her buttocks cupped in the other.
She cries desperately, thrashing and writhing in an attempt to get away, but he silences her abruptly with a slap across her face.
She stops moaning, and wavers slightly as if dizzy. He grins in response, and bares his teeth again, lowering his head to the soft meat of her throat, at the juncture of neck and shoulder.
He nuzzles his nose into the hollow there, breathing in the heady combination of blood, adrenaline, and fear. It's suddenly too much for him, and with a cry he sinks his fangs into her flesh.
She whimpers once, and sags against him, her hair being the only thing holding her up.
The new vampire gluts himself on the fountain of crimson liquid that gushes into his mouth, his body singing and thruming in time with the girl's heart.
When it finally slows, he allows her to drop onto the floor of the cage, and he shudders as the blood thunders its way through him. His demon visage vanishes into his human face, and he slowly exits the prison, ignoring the frightened cries of the girl in the other cage, who calls to her friend. "Cordy? Cordy? Oh my god..."
"Better?" Lindsey asks, and the other nods. Lindsey laughs at the understatement he's made, and stands next to his new child, placing a friendly arm around his shoulders.
"So, let's talk about your assignment! And why you're here in the first place."
The new one nods. "It does seem odd. I remember...some things, but others are hazy..." he trails off, a frown creasing his face.
"Maybe I can help you out with that," Lindsey says. "What do you remember?"
"I remember...a girl," the other says, and it's Lindsey's turn to frown. "A blond?"
"Yes."
"Don't worry, she's going to be the first to go...Angel."
The new vampire's head snaps up at the sound of his human name, and in the blink of an eye he has Lindsey pinned to the wall with his forearm.
"Don't. Call. Me. That. Again," he hisses, fangs shining in the gloom.
"Alright, alright. Get off of me," Lindsey responds, pushing the other man lightly, but forcefully.
He straightens his shirt, and faces his child down. "So, pick a name."
The newbie hesitates, his brown eyes so dark they look black. He quirks a smile then, and answers his sire.
"How's Angelus?"
TBC.
*
This chapter rated R for violence.
*
Five.
Sometime after the monster calling itself Lindsey McDonald had left him, another lackey creeps into the room with food on a tray. It plops the plastic thing down in front of Angel, and skitters off to wait, presumedly for him to finish.
No untensils, nothing for him to try and pick the locks on his manacles with. He decides if they wanted him dead, he would have been dead already, so he eats the food without worry of poison.
He kicks the tray back towards the crouching vampire, and it scrabbles on all fours towards it, picking it up and scuttering out of the large musty room.
He bangs his head slowly on the brick wall behind him, having exhausted all escape scenarios he can think of. He knows that the Navy officials will be looking for him, and Wesley, and of course Buffy. He smiles slightly despite his cracked lip at the memory of their night together.
"What's funny, meatbag?" the English vampire stalks into the room, his platinum hair and long coat making for an interesting, if overly dramatic entrance.
"That's an interesting hair color choice for you, William," Angel says. "What's it called...radioactive?"
He is rewarded for his snarky comment with another crack across the face. This time the angry vampire makes sure he uses his fist with the rings on it.
Angel lets loose a small cry and crumples to the ground, his forehead banging painfully on the dirty concrete.
"Who said you could use my name?" the blond hisses in Angel's ear, having jerked him up right by his short hair. Angel's almost positive he feels a few pieces tear free.
"What do you want me to call you," he chuckles hoarsely, blood running freely down his face, "Nosferatu? Prince Vlad?"
"Bah," spits William, and flings Angel to the ground again, wiping his hand on his coat. "Meatbag, you stink. Gotta clean you up for the event."
"Event? What's going on? You guys having a party? I didn't bring my dress uniform, maybe you should let me go get it," Angel says, and cringes back against the wall as William raises his hand again. He decides that maybe he should stop with the smart alek comments, or risk getting another whack from the enraged demon.
"Get up, mortal. And if you try anything..." William tells Angel, pulling the edge of his duster back, revealing a shiny glimpse of a very large revolver tucked in the vampire's waistband. Angel stands, wavering slightly, a wave a dizzyness cascading over him.
The blond unlocks his chains, and leads him from the room.
*
William unceremoniously pushes Angel into a dank, tiny room that smells vaguely of mildew.
"Shower," he says, throwing a pile of clothes and towels at the human's feet. Angel bends over slowly, feeling like an old man, and picks up the pile.
He shuffles to the shower stall, and hears the clang as the door shuts behind him. There are no windows of any kind in the room, and he slumps down onto a wooden bench next to the shower. Someone has thoughtfully left shampoo and soap, and Angel wonders with a brief thought why the hell would a vampire need cleansing products, before turning on the water as hot as he can without burning himself.
It disturbs him slightly that they want him clean for the 'event'. Come to think of it, the three vampires he has seen so far could pass very easily for human. And the warehouse itself doesn't stink of unwashed bodies. Just mold. And dust. And unfortunately, dried blood.
Being a military operative sometimes has its plusses and minuses.
What the hell is the 'event'? And why the hell do they need him?
He shucks off his now dirty and torn uniform pants and steps into the water. It smells vaguely chlorinated, and again he wonders exactly where he is. Someplace way off the beaten path, otherwise someone would have found him by now.
Maybe they have, and maybe they're dead now, a tiny voice whispers inside his mind. He shakes his head back and forth under the spray, determined not to let his mind wander that route.
After rudimentary bathing, he steps out, towels off, and examines the clothing William had thrown at him.
Black button down shirt and black pants. No shoes.
He shrugs, and puts them on.
*
The blond vampire leads him down the hall, to another exceptionally large area, complete with vaulted ceiling, and hastily assembled benches and chairs. The room is more than two-thirds full, full of vampires, demons, and all manner of creatures, some he's never even heard of before, much less seen.
"Ah, here he is," a voice echoes through the room. Angel feels very small and alone with the eyes of a hundred evil things on him, and he looks to the front of the room, which is lit by torches and candles scattered about at the base of a large lecturn.
"Friends, here is the man I was telling you about. The man who's conversion will bring about the end of the Slayer, and of all human kind on the face of this island, and possibly the world!"
Angel is lightheaded suddenly, and his knees buckle as white spots flare up before his eyes. A hand steadies him, and William is standing next to him as he rights himself.
"Don't faint, blood bag," the vampire hisses, and pinches a hunk of Angel's tricep to wake him up.
Angel grimmaces, and stands up straighter. The demons around him whisper amongst themselves, surprised at his stamina.
"So, let's get started."
*
Angel is forceably pushed to the front of the room toward Lindsey by William. He stumbles once and is roughly dragged to his feet by his hair, and a growl escapes his lips at the pain. William's eyes widen, and a laugh barks from his throat.
"Good choice, Master," he shouts out. "This one's got spirit."
"I know. Why do you think we've been watching him the whole time he's been here? And that happenstance meeting with the Slayer- you couldn't ask for a better volunteer."
They reach the front, and William shoves Angel onto the top of a table he hadn't realized was there. Rough iron manacles are clapped around his wrists and ankles, and leather straps are fastened across his waist and chest.
"So, my friends," Lindsey booms out. "Here we have the first step in the dawning of a new age. The age of fury; the age of blood; the age of darkness. And here we have it's first agent- and the down fall of human kind!"
The vampires and monsters in the room laugh and cheer and clap their hands. Angel is twisting desperately on the table, whipping his head about and tearing at his bonds. All he succeeds in doing is ripping his skin open again at the wrists and feet.
He doesn't care how much skin he has to tear, he's getting out of there. His parents would be completely destroyed if something happened to him. And Wes. There's no way he could possibly explain this to his friend.
And then there's Buffy...
God! He can't leave her. Not when he's just found her.
At the thought of her, a picture in Angel's mind suddenly appears, as if on a grainy screen. He knows that Buffy's coming for him. And she is heavily armed.
He's confused but allows a sliver of hope to reach him. Maybe she'll make it...
"Right. Cover the torches," Lindsey tells the few vamp henchman scattered around him. They comply and douse the large flames with buckets of water. Only the scattered candles remain lit.
Lindsey stalks to the table, and leans over Angel, who is still struggling. "My boy," he says, grasping Angel's chin and holding it still, "I'm so glad I picked you for this. I had originally chosen your friend Wesley, since he has all that weapons knowledge and seems to lean toward the violent. But the fact that you have a relationship with the Slayer! Now that is just too priceless to pass up."
"Leave her out of this," Angel says through clenched teeth. "You want me? Do what you came here to do. Let's just get this over with."
Lindsey glares at Angel a moment, his true face flashing into view briefly. "Alright then, if you insist. William? May I have the book please?"
The blond vampire approaches his Master, and reverently hands him a leather bound book that is obviously very old. So old in fact that dust wafts off the cover as Lindsey opens it.
The 'audience' is deathly quiet, awaiting whatever magick Lindsey is about to perform.
Angel has no clue as to what's going on, but he knows that he will do anything to keep Lindsey's mind off Buffy and on him instead.
"Exorere, Anima Vitae. Prodi ex loco cado cadere cecidi, in hunc mundum caedes. Aeterno abeo conscio lamia, exos anima caedes!"
As Lindsey roars out the last word of his spell, he lunges at Angel, annointing him with a sticky herb, throwing it on his chest, hands and feet. Angel begins to feel a tingling, and where the herb touches him, his skin begins to smoke. He writhes harder now, and yanks with mindless abandon at his chains.
A commotion is heard at the back of the chamber, and Lindsey turns around, facing the now open door.
"Let. Him. Go."
A collective growling is heard throughout the room, and the twang and thock of arrows and the clang of steel reaches Angel's ears. He can't see her, but he can feel her.
"Angel! Hang on," Buffy yells, and he shouts back. "I don't really have a choice, here!"
As the minions engage the Slayer, her helpers, a young redheaded woman and a smallish blond man, chant frantically to keep the hordes of demons off the blond warrior.
As far as Angel can hear, she seems to be doing alright, from the sound of demon grunting and cries of "Ow! Damn, Slayer, that hurts!"
Lindsey, ringed by his faithful lieutenants, twists his body back toward Angel, hissing in rage, the ugly visage of the demon that resides in him coming to the fore.
"She won't make it to you, soldier boy, and you will be her downfall," he spits out, and suddenly is right there, angry unnecccesary breath puffing against Angel's throat.
He opens his mouth wide, and plunges his razor sharp fangs into the soft meat of Angel's neck.
Angel tries to scream; tries to make some kind of noise. All that comes out is a terrified squeak. He can see Buffy in his mind; and his mental scream of anguish is for her, and for what's about to come.
"Angel! No!" Buffy shrieks, and battles her way through the remaining demons, whacking them down as if they are standing still.
The floor trembles, and steam shoots up from several holes in the stone floor. The juncture Buffy is crossing cracks impossibly wide, and the biggest winged beast she's ever seen erupts from the hole, spitting and clawing at her.
She readies her sword, glancing back desperately at her companions, who redouble their magickal efforts to ward off her new attacker.
"Angel? Angel!" she screams, voice raw with tears and fear. The dragon demon swoops at her, flapping its wings and belching fire, while she tries to run around it, avoiding a fiery death.
Lindsey rips Angel's bonds from his chest, and hefts him into a sitting position. He slits a large gash in his own wrist, and holds it to Angel's mouth, the crimson blood flowing like wine past his lips.
He tries not to drink; he sputters, coughs, tries to spit it out. But something in him catches him by the gut, by the throat, by the soul.
He is ravenous.
So he drinks.
*
The demons battling the slayer and the ones frozen by her companions magick pause, watching in unison as the dark haired human gulps greedily from the Master's wrist. Even the dragon creature, halting in midair, looks intrigued.
Then just as suddenly the moment is broken, and the fighting begins again in earnest.
"Angel! Angel!" Buffy shrieks, tears streaming down her face now, as she hacks desperately at the winged monster.
Angel, stupified into submission by the taste of the elixir in his mouth, wants to answer her, but can't.
The wrist is jerked away from him unceremoniously, and he groans in frustration, flailing out for more.
"Release him," Lindsey commands, his voice harsh and his hand wrapped around the gash in his other wrist. The lackeys leap to comply, and unlock Angel's bonds and unstrap the remaining leather tie.
Angel collapses back on the table, a strange feeling of euphoria and a heady sleepiness over coming him. Try as he might, he can't make his body work.
The last thing he hears before slumber claims him are the cries of the Slayer, and the roar of the fire being released by the dragon.
*
Silence. He opens his eyes, and sits up, expecting a rush of dizzyness to accompany him. No. He feels rather good, actually. Strong. The bed he sits up in is a large four poster, and he luxuriates against the feel of the silk sheets, running his hands up and down them.
He stands, crossing the length of the room in three large strides. He tries the door, which is locked.
He thinks a moment, his once mortal brain trying to figure out a way to escape from the room.
Realizing something, he grins, a horrid, feral thing that doesn't resemble his old smile at all. Reaching out a hand, he twists the doorhandle, popping the lock with almost no effort, and steps out into the hall.
"Ah, there you are," a voice reaches him, and he turns around, coming face to face with Lindsey McDonald. "We were wondering when you would wake up."
"How long was I out?" the new vampire asks.
"A day, more or less. How are you feeling?"
"New," he replies, and laughs. "I need to-"suddenly he's doubled over, a bright band of pain like a whipcord around his guts. He opens his mouth as if to vomit, but nothing comes out.
Lindsey laughs, and the other vampire struggles not to pop his annoying head clean off his shoulders. "What's happening to me?" he rasps.
"You need to eat, buddy. Come with me."
The other follows Lindsey down the hall, toward a set of stairs that lead downward.
A strange, tangy smell wafts up at him, and he sniffs the air like a dog, intrigued and powerfully aroused at the same time. His body rapid fires new sensations at him like bullets, and his face contorts automatically. They reach the bottom of the staircase, and enter into a room lined in cages. Two have occupants.
"So, help yourself, brother," Lindsey says, sweeping his arm in an arc toward the cages. Two young women cling to the bars of their prisons, holding each other's hands tightly through the iron.
The new one smiles, dripping saliva from his fangs, and approaches the first cage, ripping the lock off as if it were paper.
"I have keys, you know," Lindsey grumbles, but watches in appreciation as his creation grabs up the hair of his victim, and hauls her to her feet.
"Please, please, please don't hurt me, I have my sister to look after, my parents, they don't know where I am," the woman babbles tearfully, and the new one hesitates, as if not sure what's next.
"Go on, eat!" Lindsey commands, and the vampire growls softly in response, turning his head back to his victim.
He leans close to her, dragging her body against his, a hank of her hair wound around one hand, her buttocks cupped in the other.
She cries desperately, thrashing and writhing in an attempt to get away, but he silences her abruptly with a slap across her face.
She stops moaning, and wavers slightly as if dizzy. He grins in response, and bares his teeth again, lowering his head to the soft meat of her throat, at the juncture of neck and shoulder.
He nuzzles his nose into the hollow there, breathing in the heady combination of blood, adrenaline, and fear. It's suddenly too much for him, and with a cry he sinks his fangs into her flesh.
She whimpers once, and sags against him, her hair being the only thing holding her up.
The new vampire gluts himself on the fountain of crimson liquid that gushes into his mouth, his body singing and thruming in time with the girl's heart.
When it finally slows, he allows her to drop onto the floor of the cage, and he shudders as the blood thunders its way through him. His demon visage vanishes into his human face, and he slowly exits the prison, ignoring the frightened cries of the girl in the other cage, who calls to her friend. "Cordy? Cordy? Oh my god..."
"Better?" Lindsey asks, and the other nods. Lindsey laughs at the understatement he's made, and stands next to his new child, placing a friendly arm around his shoulders.
"So, let's talk about your assignment! And why you're here in the first place."
The new one nods. "It does seem odd. I remember...some things, but others are hazy..." he trails off, a frown creasing his face.
"Maybe I can help you out with that," Lindsey says. "What do you remember?"
"I remember...a girl," the other says, and it's Lindsey's turn to frown. "A blond?"
"Yes."
"Don't worry, she's going to be the first to go...Angel."
The new vampire's head snaps up at the sound of his human name, and in the blink of an eye he has Lindsey pinned to the wall with his forearm.
"Don't. Call. Me. That. Again," he hisses, fangs shining in the gloom.
"Alright, alright. Get off of me," Lindsey responds, pushing the other man lightly, but forcefully.
He straightens his shirt, and faces his child down. "So, pick a name."
The newbie hesitates, his brown eyes so dark they look black. He quirks a smile then, and answers his sire.
"How's Angelus?"
TBC.