A/N: And to think…I just updated.
Stay- Chapter Four
Angel's POV
I'm obsessive and compulsive and I drive people away. He's gone. My precious little bundle of violence got up and limped out and he's never coming back. I called Rupert, of course. He's a good man. Although, he's still a bit peeved about the time that I snapped his girlfriend's neck and left her on his bed for him to find…but I was evil. You know. Evil. The big E-V-I-L. I snap a lot of necks when I lose my soul. It's not like I discriminate or anything…
Except when I directly target my one-time friends.
Growl growl. If I didn't have these cases to work on, I don't know how I would keep myself occupied. Cordelia keeps making this awful coffee and then just leaving it in the pot and I keep going back to it thinking its all fresh and stuff, but its really just that same coffee from a really long time ago and I drink it and then I spit it out because it's awful and I'm really glad she and Doyle don't know I rant like this to myself because they'd probably find some sort of joy in that and ridicule me for the rest of their lives.
I miss my boy. So much.
At least the crazy stalker guy that could detach his own body parts existed. He got my mind away from Spike and made me realize a few things about myself. The jealousy, the rage, the lust, the need for an emotional connection that just doesn't exist…
I've been alone for so long. I really should be used to it by now.
Ah, Sunnyhell. How I'd missed you.
I was standing on a hill overlooking the graveyard and the slayer, that itty bitty blonde wisp of a bint, was happily and noisily beating the bleedin' hell out of this fanged fellow. What really got me was that every so often the little bitch would somehow manage to pause in the middle of the violence and make one of her trademark quips before wailing on the poor bugger again.
I. Hate. Her. So. Much.
If it weren't such an inopportune moment, I'd race down there myself, rip every shred of skin from her body, and bathe in her blood.
Stupid slayer…I don't know why Peaches was so head over heels for her; she's hardly more than skin and bones! Silly poof always did have it in for blondes, though. Take Darla for example. Darla, the biggest fucking bitch of all time…but she was blonde and he stayed with her for over a century. It's always with the hair with that soddin' tosser. You'd think he'd be a bit less vain with his lack of a reflection and all…
I kept thinking about how he'd taken care of me, though, and part of me missed him. Granted he gave me the bloody wounds in the first place, but still. A bloke likes to be mothered every once in while. Old boy used to do it a lot back in the early days…pre-poncy soul, that is. Used to flay me till my skin was fallin' off, but he'd always take right good care of me afterwards. Darla always hated it when he coddled me. M' glad she's dust.
Anyway, about this slayer, it's about time she-
BLOODY HELL!
I cracked an eye open to find myself in this white, sterile sort of area. It hurt my head to look at it…it was so bright. It was like passing out in a shady outdoor spot just to wake up with your hand on fire…only all the pain was in my eyes this time; in my head.
Sod it all, who am I kidding? It hurt everywhere. Considering the two nights in a row I had been subjected to the thumping of the Ensouled One and whatever they bleedin' did to me out on that hill, I'd wager that I was lucky to be able to move.
This is all the slayer's fault. I just know it.
Stupid soddin' cunt probably erected this place with the help of her dimwitted sidekicks…"the Scoobies", if you will. Bugger them. Scooby Doo was a classic cartoon of great importance and then they went off and degraded it with their insipid saving of the world antics. Bloody brats. At least they can't rip my face off.
I got to my feet and started pacing around, because that's what I do when I get nervous and have to think of plans of escape.
Why didn't I just stay with my sire? The old sod would probably be mollycoddling me right now, feeding me warmed-up pig's blood and telling me not to drink it too fast, but nooo…now I was bloody well starving in this…this PRISON.
A packet of blood fell out of the ceiling. What luck!
But as I picked it up and was about to rip into it with my teeth…
"Don't drink it. It's drugged."
Could this get any worse? With a frustrated sigh, I threw the teasing blood to the ground and asked, "Uh huh. And who are you, mate?"
"I'm a rat. I'm a lab rat, just like the others. They're gonna kill us, you know."
Fanbloodytastic.
"And how are they going to do that?"
"They starve you. When you're ready to bite your own arm, they shoot out one of those packets. You drink, and the next thing, you're gone. And that's when they do the experiments."
I want me sire…
It felt like it had been years since I had last seen my boy and life just wasn't getting any better. In truth, it had been weeks and I'd had to deal with the most horrible things: like Cordelia deciding it would be perfectly okay to shack up with me while she looked for a new apartment and that goddamn sensitivity stick or what have you.
It's been AWFUL. Completely AWFUL.
I've had so many things on my mind and yet all I care about is what my sweet Will must be doing at this very moment. There had been no sightings of him in Sunnydale as of yet and the apprehension was just building up to the point where I could hardly stand it.
"You okay?"
Cordelia. Always Cordelia.
"Yeah. I'm fine."
"Thinking about Spike?"
I sighed. I'm not even going to grace that question with an answer because I know she'll just settle down next to me and yap away even if I clearly don't want her to.
"You know, Angel, I understand a little something about love."
It was difficult to contain my snort and my snarky reply of, "Right….Xander Harris?", but somehow I managed.
"You're always going to go for the wrong sorts of people and you're always going to feel too strongly about them. They'll play along; they might even reciprocate, but it's always going to end badly."
She's got that right.
"And even after it ends badly, even after they put you through pain and destroy your social status and make out with bottled redheads who shop at Sears while you're being heroic and trying to save their loser lives-"
"Cordy…"
She sighed. "Even after all that. After every horrible, horrible thing they put you through, you'll still care." She acts as if I don't know this. "You'll still want them to stay with you. You'll still want to stay with them."
Yeah.
"Buffy sent you to Hell," she continued. I really wish she wouldn't delve into the B-word. "Then again you were like Old Yeller or some crap like that. You know, all sweet and gentle with big fangs, but then you got rabies so she had to go out into the backyard and shoot you and the last thing we remember is you giving this awful squeal-"
"Cordy-"
"What I'm saying is it was her fault. She gave you that awful STD known as evil and then she had to kill you, but you just kept coming back for more. Finally, you got some sense knocked into you or whatever, and came to this sleazy city where you and me and Doyle live happily ever after."
You'd think that I'd defend Buffy right now, but to tell you the truth, I found the "evil STD" remark highly amusing.
"What's your point again?"
"You left Buffy. You let her go. You moved on. You can do it again."
Yeah, it'll just take an eternity.
"It's different with Spike. It's not the same kind of love…I don't even know if you'd call it love." I didn't even realize I was talking, really. It was sort of like speaking my thoughts and Cordelia was there listening and…oh god, am I opening up? I blame the sensitivity stick. "He's not my soul mate. He's not the love of my life…he's not even a natural blonde!" I do have a thing for blondes, after all. "He's always been someone for me to take care of. To lavish affection on…to use as I see fit. He's more than an object, though. I like making him feel good. I like it when he needs me. I need to be needed because it makes me feel like I exist on more of a personal level. I care about him. I worry about him. He's my childe."
"So the entire thing you did with the dominating and all…that was to make him need you?" I nodded. She sighed. "You vampires and your wacky hijinks." She patted my shoulder. "Maybe he'll come back. Maybe he won't. But if he doesn't, just remember the hot pokers and the pedophiliac vampire that touched you all over. Maybe if you get mad enough, you can get over it." She got up and made to leave, but turned suddenly, and with a very Cordelia-like smirk, asked, "And Angel?"
"Yeah?"
"Buffy's not a natural blond, either."
I knew that. I did. I swear.
You know what? I don't need my sire. I'm the Big Bad and I made it out of that bloody hellhole all by myself…with a little help from that obnoxious rat-like twit- who, incidentally, was a very good distraction while I made my grand escape.
Wanna know what comes next? Your very humble and ingenious narrator makes his way up to the slayer's girly dormitory, rips her entrails out and ties 'em in a pretty little noose, with which he then proceeds to hang her by her pretty little neck. Oh, yes. Much fun will be had by all. Well, by me anyway.
Ah, the door. Perhaps I'll just give it a friendly little knock then.
And sure enough:
"Come in."
It was Red, the little witch who couldn't, and she looked so very surprised to see me. It may not have been the Slayer, but it was still a tasty little treat worth the effort of biting and sucking and…
"Spike? Wh-what do you want? A spell? I can do that."
She is adorable, isn't she?
She pointlessly tried to run past me, but I, of course, grabbed her by the arm and threw her against that dainty little bedside table. Her fear smelled so very…delectable.
She'd make a nice companion.
"I'll give you a choice," I smirked, and sidled over to her. "Now, I'm gonna kill you. No choice in that. But I can let you stay dead, or….I can bring you back. To be like me."
"I…I'll scream," she said instead, and I couldn't claim to be surprised.
I smiled. "Bonus."
So she screamed, I turned on the little radio by the bed, threw her down, straddled her, and went in for the nummy treats.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
The most horrible pain I had ever felt hit my head at that moment. It was as if I had been laid out in the middle of a London street, placed perfectly where if I had just stayed perfectly still the cars would just speed over me without a single touch…but then a bloody double decker went all awry and skidded over my fucking head!
Red didn't move. I could hear her panting beneath, though, and I could her heart beating faster, pumping the sweet blood through her little veins. So I leaned in again and-
AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH.
This was too bloody much! All I wanted to do was get back on my own two bloody feet, go to Sunnydale, kill the fucking slayer, and burn the soddin' town to the ground! Is that too much to ask? APPARENTLY. Instead, I get kidnapped by some scientist wankers who do zany experiments on me head and now I can't bite the bloody witch and get a good meal and I'm starving and I want me sire NOW.
I couldn't help it. I started to cry. It was too much.
"Spike?"
I couldn't even reply, I was bawling so hard. It was bloody humiliating to be crying like a nancyboy in front of the enemy, but I wasn't about to stop. I didn't even have the excuse of being drunk off my arse this time and I just continued to do it.
Got to hand to the witch, though. She could've run off like any sane person would do, but she stayed and patted my back and tried to get me to tell her what was the matter.
"I want me sire," I sobbed. "Get me sire."
"Angel?" she sounded confused, but who the hell else would I mean? "You want me to get Angel?"
I nodded, wiping snot away from my nose, and then broke down into a fresh river of tears. It was too much.
"I need me sire."
I drove to Sunnydale the minute I hung up the phone. Rupert called to tell me that Spike was at his apartment and something was wrong with his head and my poor little boy was sobbing for me to come get him.
My baby. My poor baby.
The two hours it took to drive from L.A. to Sunnydale seemed like a lifetime, even though I sped like a demon and shouted profanities at those who protested with their horns. Nothing was going to stop me from getting to my boy.
Once at Rupert's residence, I burst through the door to find them all sitting around – Rupert, Buffy, Willow, and Xander. They looked up at me in surprise when I entered and frantically looked around.
My boy was curled up in a corner sobbing like I'd never seen him sob before.
"What happened?" I demanded, quickly walking over to him, sitting down, and gathering him into my arms, into my lap. I looked to Buffy, Willow, Xander, and Rupert for an answer, but my face softened when I felt my Will bury his face into my neck.
"We don't know exactly, Angel…" Buffy trailed off, looking at me helplessly.
"What do you know?" I couldn't keep myself from snapping.
Willow cleared her throat and stepped a little closer. "He came into the dorm room and told me he was going to eat me. Then he tried and he screamed and then he tried again and he screamed again and then he started crying and asking for you."
That wasn't very helpful, but I couldn't very well just go around blaming them, could I? I really wanted to. I wanted to blame someone. I wanted to rip someone apart.
"What happened, Will? Tell me what happened," I murmured, rocking him slightly as he cried. "Tell Sire what happened."
He didn't. He wouldn't. He just kept crying.
"Sire," he whimpered. I'd never heard him sound so pathetic.
"Yes, precious. Sire's here."
"Lets…" he choked. "Lets go home."
"Angel…" Rupert trailed off.
"If I find anything out, I'll let you know," I promised, getting to my feet and lifting my boy to his. "Just as I'm sure you will for me." He nodded.
"Siiiire," Will pleaded, a slight whine in his tone. "Can we go?" He clung desperately to my hand and buried his face into my shoulder, careful not to make eye contact with any of these people he had tried to slaughter on so many occasions.
I nodded, giving his little hand a squeeze. And after giving the group a few awkward goodbyes, we got into my car and started the drive home.
Home. I was taking my boy home.
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