Ok - so I don't know if anyone remembers this fic but I'll post it anyway... umm... well the previous chapters are here if anyone wants to read them to refresh their minds.. if not - Spike has a Soul, he and Angelus were in love and now Angelus wants to destroy the Order of Aurelius... not to mention the fact that he has just kicked Buffy's ass! Ok?
Thanks for the reviews ppl - I really appreciate the effort that it takes to review - its something that I should do more of... I'm a bad person...
Anyhoo - on with the show!
True to his word, Angelus did meet them at the library the following night. He was greatly relieved that Penn had believed his lies and that he hadn't had to dwell on it. The Master had said nothing of the attack, just that after tomorrow night they would never have to worry about a Slayer ever again. Angelus had laughed along with the other vampires but at something else entirely. The Master was right, they wouldn't be worrying about the Slayer again – they really wouldn't have to worry about anything at all. However, no matter how much he rejoiced at his chance to take revenge on the Master and Darla and all of the other members of the order that he hated, the cost to himself would be heavy. He couldn't fool himself anymore. He did love Penn and Dru something fierce. Maybe he didn't have the all consuming passion and human love for them that he held for Will, but they were his. They were his Childer, his creations, his chosen. Now he had to let them go. Vengeance must be served.
So it was with a heavy heart that he sat in the library and discussed the plans for their attack on the Hellmouth and the Order. Buffy wasn't happy that she didn't get to run this show and that she had been relegated to a mere tertiary role in this fight. He had brought with him a CD-ROM of maps of the sewer and cave systems that wound their way under the town. He showed them the way that the vampires would take into the cavern and told them where he wanted them to wait. He knew that as long as Giles sanctioned it, Buffy would go along with it. He was pleasantly surprised by the Watcher's willingness to co-operate. He suspected that it had a lot to do with the fact that he had fought and defeated Buffy but not killed her. There was a lot to be said for mercy and it would seem that Shakespeare was right – mercy is not strained and does benefit those who give and those who take it. He hoped that the Slayer knew the value of mercy; it would make her stronger than any opponent if she did.
It took them all of three hours to work out how the attack would take place and Angelus refused to let any of them go until he was sure that they knew what they were meant to do and that they knew that they had to do this his way. Everything in this attack was reliant on timing and on Angelus being able to control the magicks that he had to use. He knew that Willow was well aware of her part in this little game and he knew that she knew her cues. He was surprised that she didn't want the others to know about her role or about her friendship with him but he respected her wishes – especially when she told him of Giles' insistence that she stayed away from magic. He felt his anger towards the Watcher grow after she told him this. This girl was a born magic user, to deny her teaching was to guarantee that she would fall foul of magic at some point in her life. That was one thing that he intended to rectify.
There were two other things that he intended to rectify before the night ended and one was easier than the other. He pulled Buffy to one side before any of them could leave for the evening and pushed the sleeve of her shirt up and away from her arm. He chuckled when she hissed at the pain.
"Suck it up Slayer – learn that the pain is you're greatest ally in this fight and you can fight anything."
He smiled at her as he ran cool fingers over her arm. He felt the weight of the Scoobies stares as they waited for him to do something 'evil' but he carried on his delicate exploration. When he was satisfied that it was only a fracture he pulled his bag out and fished out a small silver box. Inside the box was a fine purple powder. He dipped his fingers into it and rubbed the powder viciously between his palms. After a few seconds he placed both palms on Buffy's arm, just over the fracture and began to mutter something under his breath. Even with her keen Slayer senses she couldn't tell what it was that he was saying, but she was very aware of the effect that his words were having on her body. Her blood was singing. She felt hot, feverishly so and a part of her, a part of her that she had never been aware of before began to breathe. In the back of her mind she was dimly aware of the heat on her arm and the bone knitting itself together. More important to her though, was the awakening of her Slayer. Deep down, in the very depths of her mind and blood, a darkness awoke and roared into the night. Buffy felt power and adrenaline flood her system and she knew, she just knew, that that was what a Slayer was. She could taste the essence of the Slayer as it flooded her system. She became hyper aware of everything around her. Angelus' whispered words were a dull roar against the cacophony of heart beats and hushed questions of her worried friends.
She glanced round the room. To her new Slayer awareness the darkness seemed alive. She could see small coils of light in each of her friends. A golden light, that when she glanced at Spike, she knew to be there souls. Alongside Spike's soul, embraced by it was a dark blue, malevolent shadow that was reflected in Angelus and it was obviously their demons. But what held her attention, what captivated her, was the red flickering lights that were dancing through Angelus' body. She tried to focus upon them but it was as if a light had been switched off. She blinked and the world was back to normal… Angelus wasn't holding her arm anymore. She felt a sense of loss as not being able to see the world as it was, as her Slayer knew it to be, but she felt so grateful that he had given her that moment. He had given her the chance to understand what she was and what she could be. He had showed her what all the other Slayers had failed to grasp in the hopes that she wouldn't lose out on life too early. She realised something else, Angelus respected her. In a small way, he respected something about her enough that he was willing to do this for her. She felt amazing. She was also amazed to note that over twenty minutes had passed since that cold yet burning hand had touched her.
Buffy looked at Angelus and had to thank him but he moved away before she could. He put the box back in his bag and smiled at her. The smile was so innocent and trusting that Buffy felt humbled by it. He was evil and yet was capable of more kindness than she was used to. He had just given her a gift that meant she felt whole with her Slayer powers for the first time ever and she was utterly grateful. His smile turned wicked and he raised an eyebrow.
"I need everyone fighting fit now don't I?"
Since that point Buffy had been willing to give him the benefit of the doubt – if not trust him totally. The other humans in the room also seemed much calmer around him and he was treated to a blinding smile from his William. It was worth helping the Slayer if just for that.
On the outskirts of town, standing on a lone hill was a mansion. It was as chilling as it was beautiful. Its old stone was dark with years of pollution and ivy and honeysuckle clung firmly to one wing wall. They completely consumed the building leaving only a blanket of green and sweet yellow flowers visible to the eye. The windows were disguised by darkened glass and the heavy drapes that were hung on the inside. There was a large, heavy oak door at the front of the building and French windows around the back. These were the only way into the gothic monstrosity that was the mansion. It had been built in the 1930s by an eccentric millionaire that wanted to have the best view of the town possible, so the Mansion had been built upon the second highest peak in Sunnydale. The rumours went that Henry Crawford had moved to live there after his wife had died from a prolonged illness. Henry himself only lived in the house for five years before he was found one morning in the centre of a set of concentric circles made entirely of his blood. Around his body was a singed outline and his flesh was blistered from the heat. No one knew what had killed him, but they all new that from that day forth the Crawford Mansion was as ill fated as the Hope Diamond. Everyone who had ever bought the place inevitably moved within the first two years. If they made it that long, then by their fifth year in the house they were either found dead, having taken their own lives, or they had to be commited. It was because of this seventy year legacy that the house had stood unoccupied for the last five years. That was until a wealthy Irish man by the name of Liam O'Fillian had purchased it a little over a month ago. He had refurbished and restored the interior and he was now showing the house to its first guest.
Spike couldn't help the deep breath that he took as Angelus showed him his home, or rather their home. Angelus had said that he wanted Spike to live here after everything with the Order was over. He had even said "Welcome Home" as Spike had stepped over the threshold. He moved around the expansive living area with a sense of completion. Spike couldn't help but smile as he recognised some of the furniture and antiques that were sparsely dotted around. The only word that sprang to mind as he glanced around was 'opulent'. There was very little furniture, but what there was, was old and obviously expensive. In the centre of the room, before the large open fire place was an enormous sofa that could easily have sat six grown men. The dark leather was worn and soft but the rich aroma was still there. Draped across its back was a heavy quilted throw, a deep red in colour and it had a golden sun hand stitched into it. The cushions were made of Chinese silk and were haphazardly yet artistically thrown on the couch.
Above the man-sized fire placed was a painting. It was of a girl with long dark her and enchanting hazel eyes. Spike moved closer to the picture and realised that it had been painted by Angelus. The date in the bottom right corner read 1900… two years after Spike had left the family. He studied the picture avidly, drinking in every slight detail of the girl and all the while his mind furiously ticked over the possibilities of what this girl meant to Angelus. At first glance she could have been mistaken for Drusilla, but on closer inspection he realised that she was prettier that his Sire. Her face was fuller and more youthful and there was a fire in her eyes that couldn't be mistaken for a madness of any kind. Her skin was a honey rather than cream colour and even in oils, she seemed alive. Spike fancied that he could hear laughter ringing out from those smiling lips and he could discern the lightest blush on her cheeks. Around her neck was a pendant of a blazing sun, very much like the one on the throw but this almost seemed as if there was light bursting out of it. He could almost feel its heat on his skin. The painting was alluring and he turned back to Angelus to see what he made of it. His grandsire was sat on the wide sofa staring at his hands. There was a look on his face that Spike had never seen before and he was forced to acknowledge that he really didn't know the creature that he loved so deeply. It seemed as though Angelus was mourning the girl in the painting.
"Who is she? She's beautiful."
His soft whisper echoed round the house and Spike suddenly realised why his love had chosen this house. It was dark and eerie and strangely homely. To Spike, seeing the furnishings, the heavy velvet drapes and the portraits and smelling the rich aroma of his Sire, this house was home.
"She's no more than dust now but she was once was the most important person in the world."
"To you?"
There was a quiver of fear in Spike's voice as he asked that question. A question that he wasn't sure he wanted answered.
"To those who knew her. I never met her, but I know her as well as I know myself."
From the tone of voice, Spike knew that the topic was closed but he was drawn back to the painting. He studied it for a while longer before moving over to the French windows and stepping out into the balmy California night. His senses were assaulted by the sweet aroma of jasmine and he reached out to stroke a few of the white petals. A small ornate fountain stood in the corner, its stone cherub had almost been covered by the wild flora but its impish face still managed to peak out between the fronds. The sound of bubbling water lulled Spike and he sat on the stone bench calmly gazing at the starry night.
Two strong arms snaked around his waist and he leant back, his small lithe form a perfect fit for the strong muscular figure behind him. He rested his head into the intimate hollow of Angelus' neck and let out a happy sigh. He slipped his hands over the ones around his waist and absently played with the silver Claddagh ring on Angelus' wedding finger. The heart pointed inwards meaning that the wearer was taken. Love, loyalty and friendship… that was what they were all about. Warm breath tickled his ear and he felt cool lips graze his neck.
"I love you."
Spike needed to hear nothing more. He swiftly spun round and was instantly straddling the dark demons thighs and raping a mouth that had been denied to him for a century. He tugged at the silk and leather that covered the pale flesh he was desperate to see, to feel, to taste but large hands halted his progress. Breaking the kiss Spike stared up into lust filled black eyes and felt his breath hitch. Angelus' tongue slipped out and licked the remaining taste of Spike from his lips and Spike had to groan. He felt himself harden more than he believed possible at the sensual picture that Angelus made. His lips were dark red, infused with blood and swollen from the ferocity of Spike's ardent attack. His eyes were so dilated that they were blackened from lust and his skin was beginning to flush. Add to that the partially removed clothes and Spike was looking at a demon that could make even God fall.
Angelus realised that he didn't have the boy's full attention and so cupped his cheeks and brought them eye to eye.
"William… I need to do something… something I have wanted to do for so long but I want you to want it. I want you… I want you as mine. My William… my Childe. Mine."
Spike reeled back at those words. Never in all of his time had he thought that Angelus would yield to him in this way… to ask permission for something that he could so easily take was beyond comprehension and all he could do was nod dumbly. No sooner had his head gone down then Angelus' lips were attached to his own and firm hands were stroking over every inch of his body. Within seconds, his duster was lying discarded on the bench and arms of steel and the world fell away… literally. Angelus propelled them upwards into the night sky and moments later they alighted onto the stone balcony. Gasping in surprise Spike only received a devilish smirk as he was drawn into the bedroom.
He had stepped back in time.
Angelus had created their Victorian hotel room in his own bedroom. It was all there – the large mahogany four poster complete with velvet drapes and goose mattress covered by thick Egyptian cotton. Every detail, down to the candle sticks, the chaise and the crystal decanter and glasses. Spike felt tears spring to his eyes and they began to flow freely when he saw that the crowning glory of the room was a simple pencil sketch of him, lying by the fire in their old town house pouring over a book. It had been so lovingly drawn and although it was no more than graphite on paper it meant more to him than anything. Angelus said nothing; he just took his hand and drew Spike into his body, kissing the tears away. He then pushed Spike down onto the dark green chaise and disappeared through the door at the other end of the large room.
He returned a few moments later dressed in just his leather pants and he came to kneel at Spike's feet. He said nothing; he didn't even look at Spike as he began to unlace the heavy boots that his GrandChilde had taken to wearing. He seemed to be worshipping Spike as he removed Spike's worn socks, running his skilled hands up Spike's legs, skirting his groin and to the hem of Spike's black t-shirt, which was removed with just as much reverence. Angelus still had yet to look at him and the subservient position was only serving to turn Spike on all the more. Angelus was in a position that Spike had never believed him capable of – at the feet of someone else – and yet he still had all of the power. Spike had never had a lover more attentive to his needs than Angelus had ever been, in fact he had had no other he would be willing to call a lover… Over the century he had slept with other people but he had never taken a lover other than the demon that was kneeling before him, worshipping him as if he were the most precious thing in the world. Deft and gentle hands moved to the button Spike's jeans, slowly popping the button and sliding down the zip. His hard cock sprung free as the pressure of the denim was removed but Angelus pad no attention to the drooling tip, rather he stood, pulling Spike up with him. He then knelt and dragged Spike's jeans over his slim hips and down the long milky thighs and legs. His thumbs blazed a heated trail over the silky skin after the coarse material. He lifted one foot and pulled the jeans out from underneath and then the other. However he refused to release the foot that he held until he had peppered the instep with little kisses. Kisses that he began to trail up the leg.
Spike couldn't help but tremble as the soft lips worked their way higher and higher. No one had ever treated him in such a manner and the seeming submission made him hard as steel. Angelus began to rise to his feet, his lips still attached to Spike's body, working their way to his mouth. When it came, the kiss that they shared was gentle and soft and sweet and very much like their first one. The one that they had shared a century ago. With his lips still attached to Angelus, he was pulled through the bedroom and into the room that Angelus had disappeared into earlier.
The room that he was pulled into was the bathroom of all places, and it was just as opulent as the rest of the house. It was decorated in dark grey marble and dark chrome fittings. There was a large shower that took up an entire corner of the room with two heads on the side walls and an overhead one. Spike understood his Sire's need for so many faucets as hot water was practically orgasmic to a vampire's cold skin and he really wanted to try it out – after all there hadn't been showers for hot soapy fun in the nineteenth century. But it seemed as though Angelus had other plans in mind. In the middle of the room was a large octagonal sunken bath. There was a platform around the interior edge so that the bather could sit down and a raised ledge around the outside. A steady stream of hot water was pouring from the taps and into the partially full tub. The heat was making the scented oils – vanilla and lavender – waft upwards in curling plumes of steam and tickle Spike's senses. Angelus gently pushed him towards the bath and eased him into the water. Unfortunately, from Spike's point of view, Angelus didn't seem inclined to join him in the blissful water. Instead, he took a large ceramic pitcher and began to pour the boiling liquid over Spike's white body. The heat began to give him a rosy glow and Spike realised the intent behind the foreplay… Angelus was cleansing him, making him new. Spike decided to just lay back and enjoy the pampering. He relished the feel of the water cascading over his body and the wicked fantasy of Angelus as his slave that had begun to play through his mind. As if of its own violation his hand trailed down and gripped his hard, heated cock. He pulled gently at it as he imagined himself owning Angelus as a slave boy – the type that they had employed in Roman baths. So lost in his fantasy, he didn't notice that the careful washing had stopped or that Angelus had moved away from the water's edge.
The first he knew of it was when a cool mouth slipped down over the flaming tip of his cock. His eyes shot open and he looked down to find a dark head servicing him under the water. He groaned at the sight as Angelus began teasing licks over his slit, followed by punishing sucks that took him to the back of Angelus' throat. He was so glad that vampires had no need to breathe and very little gag reflex as he began to buck his hips up into that wicked mouth. Nonsensical murmurs fell from his lips but one thing above all else reached Angelus' ears "I love you" – even though he was under the water – as Spike reached his climax. The combination of the heat and his spend had Spike feeling sleepy despite the aftershocks that wracked his body and his eyes began to droop shut.
He didn't feel Angelus finish cleaning him, nor did he feel the older vampire lift him from the bath and carry him into the room and place him gently on the bed. When he came round Angelus was cleansing him in a totally different fashion – but it succeeded to be just as arousing to the younger vampire. Small kisses, licks and nips were pressed all over his skin as Angelus tried to rediscover the body that he had lost so many years ago. From the cool tracks on his body Spike was aware that the journey had been going on for some time and he continued to watch as the dark demon mapped every inch of his skin. After what felt like eternity, Angelus crawled up the bed over Spike's body. His wet hair hung in dark spikes hanging over his slightly golden eyes.
"You're perfect. After all these years – you're still so very perfect."
There was no mockery in his tone – the words were simple and obviously heartfelt. Spike felt his soul begin to glow with the simple praise and the look of utter devotion in the eyes of the demon that was braced above him. Spike chuckled and began to trace his fingers lightly over the broad chest just before him. It was the first time that he had had the chance to explore Angelus and he was determined to get it done before Angelus began his torture again.
"You're not too bad yourself mate."
Whatever Spike had wanted to provoke with that comment it wasn't what had happened next. Spike watched slack jawed as Angelus merely rolled to the side and left his body open to his lover's exploration. It was an offer that Spike wasn't about to reject. Spike moved like lightening to straddle his subservient Sire and did nothing other than run his fingers and gaze over the face that had haunted his dreams for so long. Angelus merely allowed the gentle exploration. There was nothing vampiric about this – it was pure love and it was clear in the eyes of both of the individuals. Spike let his hands wander but his eyes never left the beautiful face in front of him. He leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the pink lips, followed by another that was slightly more demanding and then another and another. He revelled in the power that he was holding over his mentor that he didn't really notice the hand creeping up his sides and was totally unprepared when he was flipped under his lover. He laughed at the cheeky smile that appeared on Angelus' face. He tangled his hands in the damp dark hair and pulled the luscious mouth down to him.
He felt Angelus' tongue slide against his own as his hands slid down his body. Instinctively, Spike parted his legs to allow Angelus to continue his exploration. He rolled his fingers around the hard throbbing flesh that he found their, creating small fizzing circles on Spike's skin. He quickly licked one finger, trailed it around Spike's balls, down his perineum and eased it inside of him. He paused at each stage so that Spike could become used to the invasion. He never wanted to hurt his cherub and he wanted to have him again, he wanted to have him forever. In reality, this was their first time as they had both changed so profoundly over the past hundred years. They were different men; different demons and neither were sure of what the changes meant. But one thing that they were both sure of was the fact that they loved each other and they were determined to make this work. He began to slowly piston his finger in and out of Spike. He felt the muscle loosen and added a second finger. The other hand reached up to stroke the impatient erection that was slapping against Spike's stomach. He added a third finger and increased his pace, both thrusting and stroking. He heard a scream of "Angelus!" as Spike came a second time.
He slowed the fingers down, easing the panting vampire down from his orgasmic high. When the blue eyed Adonis was back with him, he shifted and removed his hands from Spike's still trembling body. Gripping the ankles on his shoulders he moved so that the head of his desperate pens sat at the entrance to his soon-to-be-Childe's body. He leaned down and kissed him, deep firm, trying to climb inside the body that he loved so much. As he did so he pushed forwards into the tight channel slowly, desperately trying not to cum as powerful male muscle's gripped him in an unforgiving manner. He swallowed the cry that fell from Spike's lips and braced himself with his hands on either side of the blond-white head.
Spike kept worshipping Angelus' face. He kissed lips, cheeks, nose and eyes. He licked away tears and up Angel's cheek bones. He nibbled earlobes and buried himself in thick dark hair. Gradually Spike relaxed and Spike began to rock gently demanding more and soon. But Angelus would not begin the thrusts that Spike was so desperate for. Slowly however, Angelus started to rock with him and Spike could feel himself grow even harder as the friction between their stomachs caused a delightful heat. He felt it as Angelus withdrew from his body and his hands flew up to tangle in his dark hair. Slowly, he pushed back in and angled to hit Spike's prostate dead on. Spike's eyes flew open.
Whispers of love and longing were made in time to the gentle thrusts and promises of forever were intermixed with the harsh demands for the present. Spike had never felt as loved or as safe as he did when Angelus had slid into him. It was as if a missing part of him had come home after so long and all he wanted to do was hold on to him tightly. And he did. He clenched his anal muscles trying to force the issue, he wrapped tight arms around him and wound his legs around Angelus' waist in the desperate attempt to bring them as close as they could possibly get.
Gradually Angelus picked up the pace, making sure that he hit Spike's prostate every time. He could feel the coil in his stomach tightening. He was sweating with the effort of the gentle but firm strokes and not going into game face. Angelus wanted Spike to remember the humanity of this night and not have it anything like his boy's original turning.
Angelus felt the muscles in Spike's ass begin to spasm around him and he threaded his fingers through those of his boy. Spike tore his eyes away from Angelus' face to look at their clasped hands. To him, that small gesture meant more than anything else they had shared during that night. It was a physical sign that they were real – that they were really together, joined emotionally and physically. His tearful blue eyes looked back to the dark orbs of his lover.
Angelus leaned down and whispered, "I love you Childe. I'll love you forever." Licking over the shell of the ear as he spoke. Spike knew what was coming – it was something that he had wanted for a century and he turned his head to the side allowing Angelus to sink his fangs into the pale He felt two pin pricks of fire as Angelus bit down harder and the gentle but deep pulling of his blood forced his orgasm out of him. He felt his vision dim as his climax and blood loss forced him towards unconsciousness. Even when Spike's eyes fluttered shut Angelus kept on the slow sucking until he knew that there was none of Drusilla's blood flowing through Spike's veins. He could taste the pain of the soul in the rich fluid and the love and joy that Spike felt at them being together. He could see everything that Spike had experienced over the past century, over his entire life – it danced like a movie reel of individual scenes at the back of his mind and he now knew his boy more intimately than anyone ever would… and now it was time for his boy to know him. There were only three things that he hid from his new Childe – his only Childe really. Spike was Angel's only Childe and the only things that he didn't need to know were the details of the deal that had been made, the love that Angelus felt for Penn and Dru and Angelus' fear for what might happen the next night.
He was still buried deep inside Spike, but he managed to flip them over and stay in place. He removed his fangs and brought a razor sharp nail to his throat, cutting a deep gash into the skin. As his blood began to flow, he brought Spike's limp form up and rested his head in the hollow of his neck. After a few desperately long moments he felt cool lips attach themselves to his throat and begin to suck. He soared as the blood was pulled from him and his own orgasm was finally allowed to crash through him. Into Spike's mind he projected one crucial thought – 'Childe of Angel… Favoured Childe of Angel'. It was the most important thing that he could think of. It was the only thing that mattered.
Angelus didn't sleep that night; he spent it holding onto Spike's unconscious form – staring at the perfection of his new creation. He had made a very special vampire, a souled vampire, a Master from turning. Spike was unique in every single way. Even more so as he had made the worst demon to ever walk the earth fall in love. He had done the impossible and Angelus – no Angel – wanted him to be happy. He wanted him to be strong and whole and as beautiful as he was at this very moment. He was totally in love with the boy in his arms and his heart was breaking with that fact. He felt Spike move and used the opportunity to slip out of the bed and into the bathroom.
Moments later he emerged – freshly showered and pulled out a pair of leather pants and a cream sweater from his wardrobe. He dressed quickly and quietly and left the way he came, jumping off the balcony and taking to the pre-dawn sky in the mockery of flight. No evidence that he had ever been there except a rough sketch of Spike's sleeping face with the words 'My Childe' written in the corner and a hasty note of apology.