September 1st, 1941.
The leather pants the vampire is wearing creak slightly as he stalks down the torch lit hallway. His impatience rolls off him in waves, and the lesser vamps he passes by cringe at his approach. All except the blond, who cocks his hip, and raises an eyebrow at the newcomer.
"Nice pants, Angelus. What kind of look are you going for? All S and M, all the time?"
Angelus grins a nasty smile at William, and lightning fast pushes the other demon up against the wall, his groin even with William's. He sticks a knee between William's legs, forcing the man's thighs apart. A small but sharp knife point touches the edge of William's crotch, and he stills. The blond drops the smile from his face, pulling at the hand around his throat.
"You'll never know, now will you, Spike?" Angelus grinds out, using Lindsey's derrogitory name for the other vamp. Before aligning with Lindsey, William had spent most of his time catching any human he could and torturing them with railroad spikes from any local train yard. Lindsey had told Angelus William was unoriginal in this behavior, and they had started calling him Spike as a way to torment the other man. So far it was working.
"Get off me, you great poof! Lindsey'll have your head if you hurt me," Spike responds, legs kicking as Angelus lifts him off the ground.
"Uh huh. Sure he will," sarcasm drips from Angelus' red lips, and he drops Spike, who lands in a crouch on the dusty floor.
"I'm the one who matters here, boy. Don't forget it. I'm the one destined to bring about Armeggedon. And don't think I won't," the taller vampire boasts, leaning into to speak into Spike's face.
"And when I do, be certain that in the New World, there will be no need for kowtowing little snakes who plan mutiny the second their master turns his back."
Spike's eyes widen at this comment, and it takes a lot of willpower for him to force his gaze back to the floor. His only desire is to beat the living hell out of the newbie, and then glut himself on his blood.
But he stays on the ground, humble and obedient.
Angelus strides away, shoving the small dagger into the space between his shirt and waistband, and Spike stays crouched until the door has clanged shut behind him.
The eight foot tall statue dominates the room, and Lindsey is busy studying it when Angelus approaches his Master.
"Angelus. How are we this fine morning?" The slender vampire sings out, and Angelus smiles a half smile in response.
"Wonderful. But I'd be better if you'd allow me to break that Spike idiot. He's a liability."
Lindsey shakes his finger, a tut-tut noise issuing from his lips. "He's a good servant. I'd like to keep him around. I wouldn't be too happy if he ended up dead."
"Didn't say I wanted to kill him, I said break him," Angelus clarifies, and Lindsey barks out a laugh.
"Not just yet, my brother. First, we have to wake up our sleeping friend here. And until I'm sure how to do that, nobody is breaking anyone. Except the Slayer of course. Whatever you want to do with her is your business."
Angelus tilts his head to the side, thinking.
"Not sure I wanna kill her just yet, either. To hurt this girl…you have to love her."
When dusk falls, the monster that now resides in Angel O'Connell's skin exits the abandoned warehouse, and heads on silent, booted feet to the ocean.
He has a feeling she'll be there, and he wants to see what she's been doing since his 'death'.
A slight tingle hits the base of his spine as he approaches the sand dunes that make up the beginning of the beach. He whips his head from side to side, angry that he doesn't know what it means. Then he gets it.
The Slayer and her Watcher are training on the beach. It's the first time he's ever seen the man, and he's impressed that the older Brit can hold his own against the youthful Slayer.
He watches, intrigued as they thrust and parry with one another, the Slayer getting the upper hand finally, her foil point leveled at Travers' throat. He smiles, and allows her to help him to his feet.
"Excellent work, Buffy. Your fencing skills are highly improved. I was worried about your concentration there for a while," Travers says, wiping sweat off his brow with a wrinkled handkerchief he's extricated from his pocket.
Buffy frowns, and even from a distance Angelus can see the exhaustion and worry in her face. He smiles tightly at the idea that she's distracted from her calling because of her missing lover.
"I've had- some things going on," she tells the older man, and he nods.
"I was sorry to hear about your missing friend. Any luck on trying to locate him? Has Willow or Oz been able to-"
She cuts him off with an almost imperceptible shake of her head. The Watcher shuts his mouth, and takes the few steps toward Buffy that separate them. He lifts her chin with his hand gently, and she looks up, tears standing in her hazel eyes.
Angelus crows with mirth inside at that look. He decides that he likes that look on her.
"No go. Willow's been trying the locator spell for days, and I know Oz's nose is really great for tracking, but…nothing."
Travers nods. He puts one hand on her shoulder, patting it lightly. "I know they are doing all that they can, Buffy. This Island isn't that large. We will discover his whereabouts, and soon."
Buffy smiles shakily at him, and gathers her things, ready to go.
"Mr. Travers? Are you ready?" she asks, and he waves a hand at her.
"Go on, child. I'm going to rest here for just a minute, then I'll be along shortly," he answers, and she frowns.
"Don't be gone too long, this isn't exactly the safest place."
He bobs his head in agreeance. "I'll be there soon."
Buffy totes her large weapons satchel, and her fencing foil up the beach towards Angelus, and he ducks further behind a large dune, not wanting to spotted yet.
She hesitates when she gets close to his hiding place, and an expression of confusion and hope crosses her features. She looks around, her eyes wide, as if expecting someone.
"Hello?" she whispers softly. Nothing.
She begins to trudge back to the boardwalk, hastily wiping her eyes.
The vampire watching her licks his lips as she passes, inhaling deeply, his borrowed blood filling with her scent.
His leather pants suddenly feel too tight, and he shifts uncomfortably.
"Soon, lover. You'll see me soon," he promises, and turns his attentions back to the old man left alone by the water.
Travers sits on the top of his case, which holds his own set of fencing foils, and gloves. The older man looks tired, and mops at his brow. Angelus can smell the sweat from his position behind the dune.
Travers gazes at the sea, and almost falls off his case when the quiet voice comes from behind him.
"What are you doing, old man? Watching?"
"Wha- Hello? Who are- what are you doing here, young man?" the Watcher slips into insta-Brit mode, and pushes his glasses back up his nose. Angelus stiffles a grin at the sight. His, or rather, Angel's father used to do that quite often.
"I'm thinking that you shouldn't have let the Slayer leave you alone out here so late at night. Not very smart on your part," the vampire muses, hands behind his back. He turns, his brown eyes meeting the eyes of Buffy's Watcher.
"What? Slayer? I've no idea what your on about, young man, but I can guarantee you I can defend myself if needs be," Travers sputters, and Angelus lets out a laugh, tilting his head back to the sky.
His face shifts, allowing his demon to come to the fore. Travers eyes pop, and he opens his mouth to yell. In a flash Angelus is there, clapping a hand over the Watcher's lips. He shakes his head, pinioning the man's arms behind his back. Travers struggles, but soon stops, growing quickly tired.
"No, Watcher, I don't think so. See, a friend of mine has some questions he can't answer, and he needs your help to get them. We've got the best books, a better Library than you could hope for in your pathetic little human brain. So lets go. Oh, and don't worry about Buffy. I'll make sure and tell her where you are."
Travers thrashes violently at the mention of her name. Angelus just laughs, and carts him away, the case of fencing foils forgotten.
Lindsey smiles as Angelus enters the cavernous room, which up until recently had housed the makeshift stage and benches that had been there the night of his transformation.
Now the room is empty, save for the torches that ring it, and the large, stone statue in its center.
Lindsey's face shifts to a scowl, and he uses his fingers to turn the head of the Watcher, Quentin Travers, away from him, exposing the wound in the old man's neck.
"Just a taste," Angelus says, licking a little remaining blood off his finger. "He tastes of power, like I can only imagine she does. Couldn't be helped," he shrugs, dropping the man in a heap on the stone floor.
"You don't think for a second I believe you, do you, Angel?" Lindsey spits, accentuating the last word. A growl slips from the other vampire's lips, and Lindsey grins, flashing his fangs momentarily.
"It doesn't matter, my friend. Let's see what he knows," the Master vamp adds, and crouches, pulling the weak human to a sitting position. He slaps a beringed hand across Travers already bruised face. The older man groans, and comes to.
"Buffy!" he croaks, then shakes his head. His eyes threaten to exit his skull again as he takes in his surroundings.
"Sorry, Quentin. She's not here," Lindsey says kindly, patting the man's shoulder. "But we'll be sure to keep her updated on your wherabouts. Now," he continues, pointing at the large statue in the center of the room, "what can you tell me about my large, frustratingly silent friend here?"
The Watcher spits in Lindsey's face, and Angelus lets out a low whistle.
"Told you the grampa has guts," he jokes. The other vampire grins a nasty grin through the wetness dripping down his face.
"Not smart, Quentin. Not smart at all. Now, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way. Well, actually, there's only the hard way," Lindsey adds, and hits the human on the face again, a long bloody gash appearing where Lindsey's rings have scratched him. The Watcher moans softly, but keeps his mouth shut.
Lindsey winks at Angelus, then leans in close to Travers. His tongue pokes out, and he licks the blood off the Watcher's face, slowly, smacking his lips when he's done. To his credit, Travers doesn't even blink.
Lindsey crosses his legs, plopping down on the floor next to Travers. He puts an arm around the other man's shoulders, tilting his head next to Travers'. "So, Quentin. Here's the deal. This large and unmoving stone demon here is Acathla. He's going to help us destroy the world. Problem is, I can't seem to figure out how to wake him up. I know my pal here Angelus has something to do with it, but all the references I've found in regards to the spell are too vague for us to figure them out. So we thought, why not ask the one person who's sure to know? The Slayer's Watcher has all that Council training, and he's a Brit, so he's bound to be smart, right, Angelus?" Lindsey looks up at Angelus, who's standing with one leg crossed over the other at the ankle, examining his nails. He makes eye contact with Lindsey at the mention of his name, and nods emphatically. "Right as rain, Linds, buddy."
The Master scowls at the common use of his name, but lets it go.
"So what I need from you is, how do I wake this big guy up, and what'll shut him down when I'm ready?"
The Watcher stares at the two vampires, and doesn't say a word. Lindsey's scowl darkens, and as he raises his hand to strike, Angelus darts forward, his short dagger slicing open Travers' other cheek. The human lets out a cry, and tries to slap a hand over the wound.
Lindsey grabs his hand, and Angelus dips his fingers in the rivulet of crimson vitae that runs down the old man's face.
He sighs as he licks them clean.
"I think that our friend here is going to need a lot more…persuading," The new vampire tells the Master. Lindsey nods, a smile blooming on his ridged face, which had appeared when the second cut had been made on Travers.
"I agree, I agree. So, what did you have in mind?"
Angelus examines his small blade, wiping the blood off on his pants. "Something special," he tells the other vamp, and pulls Travers up the arm. The Watcher wobbles, but manages to stand on his own.
"You know where William keeps those old railroad spikes?"
TBC.