Part 38
He was standing in a deep, deep pit trying to claw his way out. Fingers cramping, body exhausted with the effort as he pulled himself to consciousness one agonizing inch at a time.
"William." Speaking softly, Angel tried to rouse an unconscious Spike. He knew that his Childe was close to breaking the coma as there was now movement in his body. "William. Can you hear me? Wake up, Childe."
Moaning, eyelids flickering, Spike fought his way out of the coma. His whole body felt like it was filled with heavy sand. He couldn't move, even though his brain kept trying to stir a limb, a finger, or turn a head.
"Si. . . ." Cheek pressed up against a hard chest, he tried to speak.
"William, Childe, you're home." Repositioning his son, so that one hand was supporting his head, Angel bit into his wrist. "Eat." He commanded. "You need to regain your strength."
Sire's blood filled his mouth, running down his raw throat. Closing his eyes, Spike drank, feeling the power of Angel's blood.
"You were drained into a coma, so you need to keep feeding until your body is restored." Fingers tightening on the back of his son's head, Angel willed more blood into his Childe's mouth.
"Enough." Sire's blood giving him his voice back, Spike turned his head away from the bleeding wrist. "Whe. . .where's. . . ." He managed to pant out. "Where's Djoser?"
"There on the bed." Angel turned Spike's head so he could see his brother sleeping on the bed next to them. "He was seriously wounded, but he's also been given my blood. He's strong and will recover quickly."
Reassured at the sight of his brother, Spike again tried to will himself to move any part of his body. "God. . .damn. What's the matter with me?"
"You were in a comatose state. Time and blood will give you your strength back." Pulling his Childe close to him, Angel couldn't help but run his lips over his son's face and neck. "My William. My Childe. I knew something was wrong, but I couldn't get back to you. I was frantic. But those damn priests! They had the books and we . . . ."
"Am I still in a coma, because I don't understand a friggin' word you're saying?" Sire's blood now circulating through him, Spike had enough strength to make his mouth work.
"William." Tightening his arms around his Childe, Angel closed his eyes. He didn't want to ever let go of the body in his arms. "We were sending Lorne's cousin back to his home dimension through a portal, and we all were accidentally sucked into it. Cordy had a vision, and the people there thought she was the messiah, so they made her the princess, and. . . ."
"You know. . . ." Spike interrupted, not wanting to hear anymore of Angel's demented imagination. "You don't need to make up such an elaborate fairy tale on my account. If you, your human pets, and that green demony thing were locked in some motel room, boozing and shagging, I quite understand."
"Do you really understand?" Pulling away, Angel wanted to see his Childe's face.
"Actually no." Trying once again to turn his head, Spike wanted another glimpse of his brother. "Djoser was tortured because you weren't here to protect us. But still, I'd rather just hear the truth than some wild. . . ."
"I'm telling you the truth." Face and tone radiating honesty, Angel stared into Spike's eyes. "I'll bring them all up here to corroborate my story and have Cordelia show you her scars where the priests tortured her first before making her the princess."
Studying his Sire's expression and seeing his sincerity, Spike's intuition told him that Angel was stating true facts. "Bloody hell." A soft exclamation. "It must be the truth because no one could come up with such a friggin' idiotic tale as that. Damn!" Eyes looking away from his Father, he pondered for a few moments. Breaking the silence, he finally asked. "Are we cursed, Sire?" Fear uncharacteristically colored his voice.
"Cursed? You mean like the gypsy curse that was. . . ?"
"No. I mean more that just some gypsy curse. It's like our family, our Bloodline, exists under some dark cloud. We suffer and suffer, and the suffering never ends. It just takes another form."
Rocking Spike gently, Angel didn't know how to answer. "My beloved Childe." He buried his face into his son's hair as fragments of his life flashed through his mind. Contemplating, a sadness filled him as he realized that their pasts verified the words that his son had just spoken They lived to suffer. Happiness was not theirs to have.
Original Ending
**
"Djoser!" Lying face down on the floor, Spike found he couldn't get up, couldn't crawl forward, couldn't even roll over. "Djoser, wake up!" Sire in the shower, he called to his brother.
Wounds still not completely healed, Djoser woke with a groan. Disoriented for a moment, he looked around for Spike. "William! William where the hell are. . . ?" Peering down from the bed, he saw his brother's naked form on the floor. "What the hell are you doing down there? Did you fall out of bed?" Reaching down, the vampire lifted his younger sibling off the floor.
"Bloody hell!" Spike swore in frustration as he was hoisted up off the floor. "That bleeding Ventrue Master! I'm going to kick his arse the next time I see him. What the fuck did he do to me?" Chest heaving with exertion. "I'm like a friggin baby. Can't barely move by myself."
"Takes time, Will." With Spike's body resting on his chest, Djoser wrapped his arms around his brother. "You were drained into a coma by someone much stronger than you. He took your life force. It will take time for it to regenerate itself."
Hating his helplessness, Spike was not appeased. "First it's a broken spine, then a chip, then poison, and now THIS." Simmering, he took his anger out on the only target in the room, Djoser. "And what the fuck do you mean by my 'life force?' You a Trekkie geek?"
Opening his mouth to defend himself, then closing it, Djoser had no idea what Trekkie meant. He wasn't sure if he had just been insulted or complimented.
"What's going on? What happened?" Coming out of the bathroom, towel around his waist, Angel sensed a disturbance.
"Tried to turn over and fell out of the bloody bed. Then I couldn't get up. Goddamn fucking Ventrue!" Spike cursed the master vampire. "Never going to be right. Always gonna be a soddin' invalid."
"Here." Sitting down on the bed, Angel pulled Spike away from Djoser while offering a wrist. "Drink from me. My blood will speed your recovery."
"And that's another thing." Spike was still quarrelsome. "How long do I have to keep drinking *your* blood?"
"What's wrong with my blood?" Angel couldn't keep the surprised look off his face. "It's Sire's Blood." He looked at his wrist just to check that there weren't any boils or pustules marring his skin that would make drinking from him repulsive.
"That's right. It's Sire's blood and having to have it makes me dependent on you. But I'm a big boy now. Don't need my daddy." Scowl on his face, Spike just wanted to hit something, but still barely able to move, he had to satisfy himself with hitting anyone within range with his mouth.
"William." Struggling for the right words, Angel was interrupted by the door opening.
"Angel?" Wesley stuck his head in. "I've got food for you. Is everything all right?" He asked, cautiously entering the room.
"Whose blood is that?" Eyes following the mug hungrily, Angel could smell that it was human.
"Cordelia's. A thank you from her. We've decided to all give a donation of. . . ."
"Hey, Wes." Spike rudely interrupted the ex-Watcher. "My body needs blood. Can't you transfuse some into me with IV's? You could stick one in each arm. I even promise to sit still while you stab me." An easy promise as he couldn't move much anyway. "Speed up me being normal again."
"Well. . .I. . . ." Wesley looked questioningly over at Angel. "What kind of blood is required? Certainly I could. . . ."
"He was drained." Speaking calmly, Angel tightened an arm around Spike to send a message, *Stop arguing*. "The way to recovery is to feed. It's what's natural. Transfusions are not the answer."
"OH, BLOODY HELL!" Spike spat this out with disgust. "You just like having a nancy boy for a son."
"Well if you would eat. . . ."
"I DO eat." Finally realizing that he wasn't going to win any arguments, Spike had to settle for glowering at Wesley like he was the one at fault. "Soon as I'm healed, I'm going to kick your arse, Wes."
"My arse? What did I do?" The ex-Watcher couldn't help but take a step backward from the very marked hostility.
"Don't mind him, human." Djoser was awkwardly getting to his feet. "When he's in a bad mood, he threatens to kick everyone's ass."
"I'm GOING TO!" Spike proclaimed, still seething. "As soon as I'm done with that Ventrue Poof."
The room froze for a moment at his announcement.
"Spike, don't be foolish." Wesley began before being interrupted by a growl from Angel.
"YOU will stay away from the Ventrue Master! BOTH of you." He snarled this while glaring first at Spike and then at Djoser.
Both vampires had heard that tone in their Sire's voice before and knew he was deadly serious.
"Wasn't going to kill him. After all, I know he did it because his GrandChilde was poisoned." Spike's voice now at a lower, meeker pitch. "But still, he needs to know that he can't just get away with what he did to me and Djoser."
"WILLIAM!"
"SPIKE!" Angel and Wesley spoke at the same time.
"Use your head, boy! Even at full strength you're no match for the Ventrue Master. So don't try ANYTHING. Either of you." Angel addressed both his Childer. "You're to stay away from all Ventrues. And don't either of you dare disobey me on this. . . ."
"ANGEL!" Wesley broke in exasperated. "Explain to them why. Haven't you learned that just ordering them about without any kind of clarification only leads to their disobedience?"
Seeing Angel's expression of bafflement, the ex-Watcher took matters in his own hands. "Spike." He addressed the vampire who was looking at him with a curious air. "It seems that the Ventrue Master has kept his true side hidden from everyone for all these years. No one, and I think I'm correct in saying not even the other vampire masters, truly realized how powerful, how dangerous he was. . .is. Right now, I'm told that he's on the verge of taking over the Council and most of the ruling vampire clans. He only spared your lives. . . ."
"Because he wants you." Angel interrupted as he looked at each of his sons. "Both of you. But he won't get you. Either of you as long as I'm still here on this earth because you're both *mine*. But that is why you are to keep your distance from him and his Clan. Is that understood?"
Blue eyes met black for a second before both vampires nodded their heads in agreement.
Satisfied at his Childer's acquiescence, Angel turned to Wesley. "Can you watch William for a moment while I help Djoser clean up?"
"I don't need any help." Limping toward the bathroom, Djoser was adamant. Closing the door firmly behind him, he effectively stopped his Sire from following him in.
Staring at the closed door, Angel stood, unsure of himself, hands clenching and unclenching.
"Angel." Tapping the vampire on the shoulder lightly, Wesley sensed his tension, but still had to pursue the matter at hand. "I'm not sure if this is any of my concern, but your brother Nic left the Hyperion the night. . .*that* night and hasn't been seen since."
"Did he take a. . .the one minion we have with him?"
"No. He left alone."
"Can you go and tell the minion that I want to speak with him?" Another worry to think about. Angel was pensive as he went to sit back on the bed. "I'll send him to track the whereabouts of my brother."
"Ah. . . ." A hard question to ask, but Wesley was determined. "I would like to accompany the minion. Two heads and bodies are better than one, you know. Is that all right with you?"
"Go for it, Wes." Now pulled up again against Angel's body, Spike was about to latch on to his Sire's bleeding wrist. "Nic will be *glad* to see you."
"I. . . ." Flushing, Wesley first looked at the floor, then the ceiling, and finally at a bemused Angel who was staring at him. "You don't mind, do you?"
"No, of course not. I'm grateful for your help." Stroking the head of his feeding Childe, Angel did have to wonder a bit why the ex-Watcher was so ready to lend a hand in finding his brother.
"Oh, and another thing." Opening the door, Wesley was eager to start searching for the vampire. "The young woman we rescued from Pylea, Fred. I believe she's still somewhat traumatized and has locked herself in one of the hotel's rooms. We took her some food earlier, and she was writing all over the walls. I. . . ." He peered back anxiously at Angel. "I hope you don't mind that she's here."
Closing his eyes, Angel could feel a migraine coming on. The last thing he needed was to have a young, human woman suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder at the Hyperion. "She can stay, but only if you or Cordelia are here to care for her. I have more than I can deal with right now."
"But of course." Wesley hurriedly assured him. "Cordelia's here now if. . .Fred should need anything. And when I get back, I'll stay with her."
Listening to the conversation, Spike had eaten his required three mouthfuls of blood. Lifting his head up, he turned and asked the ex-Watcher. "Why does she go by the name of Fred? She some kind of diesel dyke?"
**
Slouched down in his chair, Nic stared at the empty whiskey bottles on the table in front of him. He was on his third night of drinking, but even so, the consumption of a gallon or more of alcohol couldn't dull his feelings, his emotions.
"Got your message. Heard you were looking for me." A Mortlach demon who went by the name of Johnnie sat down in the chair next to him. "So what do I have to do to make us square?"
Raising bloodshot eyes to stare at the demon, Nic gave a short, humorless laugh as he fumbled in his pocket looking for some smokes. Coming up with just an empty cigarette packet, he threw it on the table. "How 'bout buying me some more smokes and another bottle." He motioned toward the empties on the table. "That should even the score."
Jumping up, the Mortlach demon didn't need to be told twice. A bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes were a small price to pay to erase his debt with the vampire. "One bottle of whiskey and cigarettes coming up."
"And that would make. . . ?" Nic tried to count the empties on the table, but with his eyesight blurring in and out, he kept losing track of which bottles he had counted. "Wonder if I broke my own record. . .hey. . . ." He looked up at the returning demon. "Today's Saturday, right? Let's see, I got here on Wednesday. . . ."
"You're a day ahead of yourself." Johnnie interrupted him. "It's still only Friday."
"Only Fri. . . .DAMN, still haven't broken my old record then. Guess I've got to sit here another couple of days yet."
"Just what the hell are you talking about?" Sitting down next to Nic, the Mortlach pulled out one of his own cigarettes. "And I want a signed statement from you that my debt has been paid."
"I once sat and drank for ninety-six hours straight. Was so smashed that I walked out into the sun and didn't even realize it. I was told that I made quite a spectacle, stumbling down the street with my head on fire. Lit up the whole fucking neighborhood." A drunk Nic couldn't help but laugh at his own stupidity.
"Whatever you say, vampire." The Mortlach just looked at him strangely. "Now come on, how about my receipt?" Pulling out a pen, he waved it in front of Nic's face whose eyes crossed as he tried to follow the moving pen.
"STOP THAT! Unless you want to have vampire barf all over your shoes." Grabbing the pen, Nic looked around for something to write on. "You got. . . ?" He started to ask before his hand found a cocktail napkin. "Okay. . . ." Eyes trying to focus as he began to write slowly. "I, Nic, Blood-Childe of. . .oh, wait. That's not right." Scribbling out what he just wrote, he looked around for another napkin.
"Here." Johnnie was now wary as he handed Nic another napkin. "You must really be drunk if you're fantasizing that you're a Bloodline vampire."
"I'll have you know. . . ." Nic slurred as he wrote out a receipt. "That I am the Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, or was until he disowned me. Said I was a no-good, drunken, sorry-excuse-for-a. . .well, you get the picture. And he was right, you know." Finishing writing, he handed the demon the cocktail napkin. "Just two weeks ago, I was named Sponsor to our Clan's two Heir Apparents, and you wanna know what happened? Wanna know how well I protected them? They were taken from me just like that." An inebriated attempt at snapping his fingers. "I never even gave the old Ventrue bastard a fight." He muttered as he downed another shot of whiskey.
Staring at Nic, Johnnie took note of the tattoos marking the vampire's neck. Up close, he now noticed the mark that the tattoos partially covered up. "You aren't bullshitting me, are you? You really are a Blood-Childe of the Tremere Clan which means. . . ." The Mortlach demon was quite familiar with another Tremeren Blood-Childe who called LA his home. "Which means you're related to. . .to HIM. The vampire who. . . ." Standing up, he stopped, well aware of who Angelus was. The vampire whose name usually equaled 'shortened life span' for other demons.
"HIM?" Pouring himself another shot, Nic slopped whiskey on the table. "Scared to say his name?" He taunted. "It's Angelus. Angelus, Scourge of Europe. Second Pure Blood-Childe of Heinrich Nest, now High Master of the Tremere Clan. Yep, that's my brother. That's HIM. But the son-of-a-bitch should be known as the worst fucking vampire father in our history. Fuck. . . ." Looking away from the Mortlach, Nic stared out in front of him. "If there was a contest, the motherfucker would even beat out my old man. And that my friend, is saying something."
Not sure what to make of Nic's mad ramblings, Johnnie began to back away slowly. Clutching the napkin that was his proof that the debt between him and the vampire was paid, he decided that perhaps a change of scenery would be in order. The last thing he needed was to get mixed up with Angelus and the Tremeren Clan. That could only mean trouble.
"Well, got to go. Hope. . .hope you break your record." Saying this lamely, he sprinted for the door.
****
Author's Note: My apologies to all Winifreds.
Warning: S3 Angel Spoilers
Part 39
Sitting in the bathtub, barely able to hold himself up, Spike was busy thinking up new and unused insults to hurl at his Sire. "Fucking, obsessive, cleanliness freak!"
"You know. . . ." Angel interrupted, sitting on the side of the bathtub trying to support the slippery body of his Childe. "If you would concentrate your energies on keeping yourself upright, and less on your mouth, we could get this done faster."
"Why is this necessary anyway?" Spike demanded peevishly. "How dirty could I possibly have gotten just lying in bed?"
"You fell out of bed onto the *floor*." Holding onto his son with both hands, Angel surveyed the scene for a moment, thinking. There was now more water outside of the bathtub than in. "There's only one way we're going to get this done." Still naked from his own shower, it was easy to climb in and settle himself behind Spike. "Lean back on me." He ordered, using his legs to hold his Childe up.
Spike did as he was told but not without heaving a loud sigh. "Why don't you just turn the shower on and hold me under that for a few minutes? It would be a lot easier than trying to wash me up in the bath."
"Because you need to soak. Hang your head down." Angel instructed as he poured shampoo on Spike's hair.
"Whaddya mean, I have to soak? Wasn't wallowing in mud, you know."
"Your injuries. You need to soak them." Answering matter-of-factly, Angel continued the job at hand. "Close your eyes. I'm going to rinse now."
Heaving another exaggerated sigh, Spike obeyed. "What injuries? Djoser was the one tortured, not. . . ."
"You have small tears in your anal ring. Can't you feel them?" Tensing, Angel struggled to keep his voice calm and emotionless.
Jerking in surprise, Spike tried to answer nonchalantly. "I've been too busy wondering why I can't move any part of my body. A sore bum is the least of my worries." Head down, he paused a minute while looking at Angel out of the corner of his eye. "The Ventrue Master made me an offer I couldn't refuse. Djoser's life if I. . . ."
"DON'T SAY ANYMORE!" His control finally slipping, Angel could feel himself erupt as the anger he had been desperately suppressing came spewing out. "That SON-OF-A-BITCH! I'll fucking kill him. I'll twist his fucking Ventrue head off his. . . ."
"Sire!" Spike gasped out as the arms around him had tightened to an uncomfortable level. "You're hurting me."
"Sorry." Immediately contrite, Angel loosened his grip, letting his head fall back against the tiled wall. He struggled to regain his self-control. Moments passed before he was able to speak with some semblance of calm. "Did he hurt you. . .a lot?"
"Never felt much of anything." Turning his head slightly, Spike pressed his check into his Sire's hard chest. "The first thing he did was drain me into unconsciousness. I was out until I woke up here with you."
"Wes was right." Swallowing hard, Angel forced his anger down. "The Ventrue Master is a fearsome power. He's a forceful vampire, and with his large Clan, he might just. . .just end up ruling the world." The last part was a whisper as he thought about his own Sire. Ruling the world had always been Heinrich Nest's greatest ambition.
"What? So we have to all become like those artsy-fartsy Ventrue Poofs?"
Despite himself, Angel couldn't help but crack a smile. His youngest always did have a way with words. Gently he ran his hands over the lean form of his Childe. "Nic sent a minion for Damon. As soon as he arrives, we'll all leave for Germany together. By then you should be somewhat back to normal."
"Why wait for them?" Spike now tilted his head to look Angel in the face. "When Damon gets here, just have your human pets tell him that we've left for Germany and that he should meet us there."
"No." A thoughtful shake of the head. "I don't want to risk any misunderstandings. We'll wait. The Ventrue Master sent you and your brother back to me. . .at least in one piece. As long as we don't cross him, we're safe for the moment, long enough for Damon to get here. And then together, he and I make a formidable team that even the Ventrue Master would have to be cautious of."
"Won't mind seeing Christian again." Yawning, Spike closed his eyes. Lying half on top of his Sire, hot bath water around him, he felt like he was wrapped in a cocoon, warm and safe.
"Who?" Angel had no idea that Damon's Blood-Childe was named Christian.
Spike snorted in exasperation as he tried to open heavy eyelids. "*Your* nephew. The Clan's newest Blood. . . ."
"That's not his name." Angel stated abruptly.
"He told me himself that his name was. . . ."
"He belongs to Damon now, who will give him his proper name. We do not recognize names given by humans."
Prying his eyes open, Spike had to look at his Sire, just to see if he was serious or joking. "Well, if that's the case, then why do you keep calling me William? Why don't you rename me? You could give me a name worthy of a vampire, like. . .like Spike."
"My son will not be named after a sharp, pointed piece of metal. William is your name, and. . . ."
"Are you going to tell me again that you named me William? You were there at my birth, and my mother just agreed? What? She just let the evil creature of the night, who. . .who tapped her off, be at her bedside when she gave birth?"
"She had no choice." Half smile on his face, Angel remembered back. A memorable time in his long existence. "Her family had thrown her out. I was all she had. And when I told her that you were to be named William, she didn't object. She probably thought I was going to call you something like Abaddon or Beelzebub, so the name William was a relief to her."
"Bloody hell!" Letting his head fall back on Angel's chest, Spike closed his eyes again. He knew his Sire was telling the truth. "Wish you had named me Abaddon or Beelzebub. Fitting names for a demon instead of the poofy William." He managed to mutter this complaint before succumbing to his weariness. Falling asleep in his Sire's arms, he dreamt of his mother, of England, and of his Father who had baptized him at birth.
**
Stepping into the demon bar, Wesley had to blink his eyes several times against the heavy smoke that clouded his vision. Trying to focus so he could make out the various patrons when a voice greeted him.
"Hey, Wes. Come to join me? That's fucking friendly of you."
"Nic." Eyes now accustomed to the smoke and dim lighting, the ex-Watcher walked up to the vampire. "I. . .we were worried about you. You've been gone now for over three days. You didn't tell. . . ."
"Over three days? Is that. . . ?" Concentrating hard, Nic tried to get his intoxicated brain to do the math. "Is that more that sixty-nine hours?"
Sitting down gingerly, Wesley couldn't help but give the vampire a look of puzzlement. "Well, three days is equivalent to seventy-two hours. . . .And why is this important to you?"
"Fuck! That fucking Mortlach lied to me. I *did* break my record because seventy-two is more than sixty-nine, right?" Now so drunk, Nic just babbled, not really knowing what he was talking about.
Nodding his head, Wesley pretended to agree, even though he had no idea what the vampire was talking about. "Yes, seventy-two is more than sixty-nine." Turning, he gave the minion, who had accompanied him an inquiring look that said, 'any ideas on how to get him out of here?'
"My Liege." Taking a step forward, the minion stood beside Nic. "Our High Master has requested your pre. . . ."
"FUCK ANGELUS!" Nic tried to pour himself another shot but kept missing the glass. Finally in disgust, he just drank straight from the bottle. "He can go fuck himself. Fucking irresponsible, arrogant. . . ."
"Nic." Wesley interrupted him. "I know you blame Angel for not being there when the Ventrues attacked, but believe me when I say, that I'm the one to blame. He wanted to go back to the Hyperion, but I asked him to stay and help us send Landok back to Pylea. And that's when we all got sucked through the portal."
"Is that so, human?"
"Yes." Willing to take the responsibility, Wesley hurriedly finished his explanation. "In Pylea, all Angel talked about was getting back to his family. He seemed to know that something was wrong."
"Have a drink, Wes." Nic handed the ex-Watcher the bottle of whiskey he had just drunk out of. "So-o his Royal Highness is once again. . . blameless. Fucker is never the one at fault." The last part was muttered to himself as the vampire signaled for another bottle.
"Nic. . .please!" Forgetting himself, Wesley reached over and grabbed the vampire by the hand. "You've had enough. Let us take you back to the Hyperion."
Staring at the hand that covered his for a moment, Nic turned back to Wesley, flashing a wicked grin. "Not ready to go back to the hotel. Don't want to look at our 'esteemed High Master', and I don't want to face. . . ." Grin disappearing, his face turned serious. "My nephews just yet. Not after the way I let them down."
Staring at the vampire, comprehension began dawning on Wesley. "So this isn't so much about your anger at Angel as it is your disappointment in yourself?"
With a smile that was half sad, half-mocking, Nic took the whiskey bottle back from the ex-watcher. "*Doctor* Wesley. . .maybe you should take me back to your place and have me spend some time on your couch?" A lifted eyebrow clarified his intentions.
"Well. . .I. . . ." A moment of consideration and Wesley made his decision, or perhaps his decision had been made back at the Hyperion when he had volunteered to search for Nic. Looking over at the minion, he barked out a short order. "I'm going to take your. . .Liege with me to my flat to. . .recover. Go and tell Ange. . .the High Master that's where we are."
**
Water cooling in the bath, Angel reluctantly decided it was time to get out. There were matters that needed his attention. The urge to just refill the tub with more hot water and spend the rest of the day lying in the bathtub was strong. He stood up quickly, Childe in his arms before temptation got the better of him. Wrapping a large towel around Spike, he stiffened his resolve and exited the bathroom.
Lying on his back in bed, Djoser stared up at the ceiling. His wounds were healing as his physical pain was now lessened. But his inner agony and resentment still flared scorchingly hot. Hearing the bathroom door open, he quickly turned over on his side, pretending to sleep.
"Djoser, Childe." Laying Spike carefully down onto the bed, Angel whispered to his oldest. "Are you hungry?"
Ignoring Angel's voice, the dark vampire closed his eyes. He had no desire to speak to his Sire.
**
"Would you like. . . ?" Trailing off, Wesley was unsure what you offer an inebriated vampire.
Sprawled out on the ex-Watcher's couch, head starting to pound, Nic was beginning to sober up. "Jesus fucking Christ!" Arm draped over his face. "I REALLY need to find another hobby. This drinking is going to pickle my liver. . . .Oh wait, I don't have a functioning liver. Hey Wes, you've studied our kind. Does excessive alcohol over a long period of time have any bad affects on vampires?"
"I. . .I. . . ." Walking over to the vampire, Wesley could see he was in pain. "I never ran across that subject in any of my studies. Can I. . .can I get you anything?"
"A pint of AB negative with a couple of aspirin will do."
"Well. . .I. . . ." Mentally reviewing the contents of his refrigerator, Wesley knew there was no blood in it, and the butcher shop would not open for a couple of hours yet. "I don't have any blood, not even animal blood, but how about some tea. . .or coffee?" He asked awkwardly.
"Oh, *you've* got blood, Wes." Grabbing the ex-Watcher by the arm, Nic pulled him closer. "And if I remember correctly, your blood was quite. . .rich tasting."
Fear of the unknown overrode desire, and the inexperienced Englishman found himself wanting to flee. "Well. . .I. . .I. . .the other day I donated some of my blood to Angel, so I guess I could do the same for you. . . .But. . .but I'll need to go to the Hyperion. The syringes and. . .and my equipment are there for. . . ."
"Equipment?" Reaching out an arm, Nic grabbed Wesley by the shirt. "You don't need any fucking equipment, Wes. I have the equipment. . . ." Face shifting, fangs coming forth. "Right here."
**
"Angel wants me to do a little research on the Internet." Holding Fred securely by the hand, Cordelia led her down the stairs. "Thought you could help me. Get you up to speed on today's new technologies."
"You couldn't get me up to speed in my. . . ." Fred asked nervously as she looked wistfully back at the door of the room that had been her haven. Her sanctuary.
"NO." Cordelia was firm. "It's time to face the world again. And no better place than here where you're surrounded by people who. . . ." Reaching the bottom of the stairs, the two women were greeted by the sight of Spike lying on the floor of the hotel lobby.
Stopping at the vampire's head, Cordelia finished her thought. "Care. . . .Spike, must you lie here in everyone's way?"
Staring up at the two women, holding the jar with Snow's eyeball on his chest, Spike had managed to make it downstairs before collapsing in exhaustion on the floor. "My name is William, Cordelia, and your hair still looks like shit."
Cordy rolled her eyes up to the ceiling at the vampire's rudeness. "Nice to see you again too."
"What's that you're holding?" A fearful Fred was staring at the eyeball in the jar.
"An eye of a vampire. Wanna see?" Despite his weakness, Spike managed to lift his arms to hold Snow's eyeball closer to the timid woman.
Mouth dropping open in shock, Fred turned to run back upstairs to her room but was caught by Cordy. "Don't pay any attention to him. He's just being himself. . .obnoxious." Giving Spike a small kick, she led the other woman to her desk.
Turning his head to watch the two, Spike eyed Fred with interest. "Who are you anyway?"
Looking uncertainly at Cordelia, Fred opened her mouth, but the punk looking vampire holding a real eyeball in his hands had an intimidating affect on her, so all that came out was a small squeak.
"WHAT? Speak up, woman." Impatience evident in his voice.
"Fred." Cordelia intervened. "Her name is Fred."
"Fred! What kind of bleeding name is that for a girl?"
"Winifred, Spike." Laptop now booting up, Cordelia looked over at the vampire. "Fred is short for Winifred."
"Winifred! Bloody stupid name. What kind of idiot parents name their child, *Winifred*?" Looking back at Snow's eye, Spike grinned with satisfaction. It was always fun to insult as many people as possible.
"As opposed to a certain parent who named his oldest, Djoser, which sounds like a piece of moving equipment." Cordelia was the vampire's equal in the insult department. "And calls his second son, Spike."
"He named me William." Lifting his head off the floor, Spike yelled this over at Cordelia. "Spike is just a nickname that I took because I tortured. . . ."
"Because you tortured people with railroad spikes." Cordy interrupted him. "Yeah, yeah. Heard that story already and. . . ." She heaved an exaggerated yawn. "Boring. Yesterday's news."
"He tortures people with railroad spikes?" Leaning down, voice cracking with fear, Fred whispered this to Cordelia.
"He use to." Smiling reassuringly at her new friend, Cordy tried to dispel her fear. "But don't worry. His daddy doesn't allow him to do that anymore."
"And his father is. . . ?"
"Did you find out about the flights from Germany?" Entering the lobby, Angel had been downstairs brooding about Djoser's recent behavior toward him. Frowning now in displeasure as he noticed his youngest spread out on the floor. "William, why are you on the floor? And after you just had a bath."
"That's his daddy." Cordelia inclined her head toward Angel.
"I don't know." Spike hedged. It was embarrassing to admit in front of two human women that he couldn't get up. "I kind of like it down here."
"How did you get down here in the first place? I thought you could barely mov. . . ." Stopping himself as the realization hit him that his Childe was not able to get up. "Cordelia." Angel walked over to the two women. For once, he understood Spike's desire for dignity. "I need you to do something else for me."
"I haven't finished the first thing you wanted done." Cordelia had been asked to check all possible incoming flights from Germany, so that Angel would have some vague idea of when Damon might be making an appearance.
"You can do that later. It's a little soon to be expecting my brother anyway. Here. . . ." Taking out his wallet, Angel pulled out some money. "Call Gunn so he can drive you. I want you to go and buy a television for me. And for doing me this favor, I'll treat you all to lunch." Feeling generous, he handed Cordy a one hundred-dollar bill.
"Finally! A job more interesting than research. . . shopping." Smiling widely Cordelia turned to Fred "Wanna come?"
"No." Shaking her head, Fred was once again thinking about retreating to her room.
"Oh, come. It'll be fun." Cordy waved the one hundred-dollar bill in front of the other woman. "With a hundred bucks we can go to a nice rest. . . ."
"Wait a minute!" Angel hastily interrupted. "The hundred dollars is for the TV and. . . ."
"The only kind of TV that you're going to get for less than a hundred bucks is a black and white. . .And hey, shopping for a television is a big job. You want us to go buy you one, then you can treat us to the restaurant of our choice. So cough up some more dough." Cordelia held out her hand for more money.
"Don't be cheap." Spike was compelled to put in his two cents for a purchase as important as a television. "I don't want a black and white telly." I want a big color set."
"So one more fifty is not going to be enough?" Angel began to reluctantly pull out more bills.
"Try six fifty-dollar bills." Cordelia still had her hand out.
"WHAT?" Now Angel was having second thoughts about buying a television.
"I want one of those flat-screened or a digital telly, and they're expensive, so just give her your credit card." Spike added helpfully.
"Here." He handed Cordy two hundred dollars more. "Whatever's left over after eating, buy the best television you can."
"Cool!" Happy at the thought of passing the day spending someone else's money, Cordelia grinned happily while turning to Fred who shook her head no and began to scurry back upstairs.
"Fred." Cordy called out but was interrupted by Spike.
"Most of that money better go toward buying my telly." He used his best threatening voice. "So you better be planning on eating at McDonalds."
"Shut-up, Spike." Watching her new friend run up the stairs, Cordelia could only heave a sigh of exasperation. "Or I'll bring back one of those hand held black and white TV's."
"Hey, a little respect here, bint!" Only able to raise his head off the floor, Spike could only growl in frustration. "I'm William, Blood-Childe of Angelus. An Heir Apparent. A prince here so you better be. . . ."
"Not impressed at all, Spike." Picking up the telephone, Cordy dialed Gunn's number. "Charles, want to have lunch with me compliments of Angel?" Quickly making out arrangements with her co-worker, she hung up the phone and grabbed her purse. Giving Spike a disdainful smile, she had one last parting shot for him. "Maybe you're a prince here, but I got you beat. I was the princess of a whole hell dimension."
****
Part 40
He was suspended in air, hovering. Wesley swore he was floating except the bed underneath him belied that fact.
"I'm high on something. He must have drugged me." He whispered out loud.
Having undressed the other man, Nic was busying divesting himself of his clothes. "You're not drugged, Wes."
"I feel. . .I'm weightless. I'm airy." The rational, practical side of Wesley told him that he was spouting pure nonsense. "I feel. . . ."
"You're light headed from blood loss." Nic interrupted as his eyes swept over the exposed human spread out in front of him. "That will soon be rectified, but first. . . ." The vampire wanted to take his time and savor Wesley and his human body. Reaching down, he began fondling the ex-Watcher, marveling at the human's body heat.
The cool hand stroking his penis and testicles caused Wesley to jump slightly, although his legs had a mind of their own as they spread wider, giving the vampire more access to his body.
Grinning, Nic had to comment. "A little anxious, are you?" Spitting on a finger, he gently began massaging Wes' anal ring, just rubbing the outside.
"Christ. . . ." A soft whisper as Wesley couldn't believe the sparks of pleasure that were shooting through his body. "That feels so. . .so good." He couldn't help it, as he pushed up with his hips, trying to get Nic's finger inside him.
"Patience, Wes." Leaning down, Nic ran his lips over a jaw line. "You'll feel me inside you soon enough. But first. . . ." One last caress of the other man's genitalia as the vampire brought his hand up to his neck. "I've had a taste of you. . .now it's time for you to drink from me." One swipe of a sharp nail opened up his carotid artery. "My blood. My essence. Savor it and know who I am." Pulling Wesley up, he pressed the human's face to his bleeding neck.
**
Happily ensconced on the couch, surrounded by junk food, Spike for once had no complaints, as he watched a twenty-four hour Cops marathon on his new telly. "Bad boys, bad boys, whacha gonna do. . . ." He sang along with the reality show's theme song, causing Djoser, who was sitting in a chair next to him to cover his face with a pillow and groan.
"William. How many more hours do we have to watch this? Can't we watch something. . .anything else?"
"Entertainment doesn't get any better than this, mate." Spike stared at the TV intently as the screen flashed a shot of a drunk, shirtless man, beer gut jutting out.
"You call this entertainment?" The dark vampire now understood his Sire's aversion to the television.
"See Spike. . . ." Cordelia, who was helping Angel move himself and his two Childer to one of the hotel suites, stood nearby holding a bundle of bed sheets and pillows. "Even your own family says you have no taste."
"A bunch of bloody yawns. All of you." But even Cordy's snipes didn't rile Spike too much. His Sire was actually permitting a TV in the bedroom. . .well the sitting room, which was attached to the bedroom. "Can't believe that. . . ." He craned his neck to peer around the corner to see if Angel, who was busy moving furniture around, was listening. "That my bore of a Sire is actually allowing two tellys in the lair. Guess he's finally going to step into the twentieth century. Now he's only one century behind, instead of two."
"Ahem." Cordelia cleared her throat. "The television downstairs is *mine*. I just brought it here to keep me company at night when everyone else was out fighting demons and such. But now that you guys own a TV, I can take that one home."
"DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT, BITC. . . ." Spike broke off as he realized that calling Cordy a bitch wouldn't help his cause. "If you take that one, then *He's* going to make me take this one downstairs."
Hearing that there was a promising possibility that the TV was going to be moved downstairs, Djoser quickly uncovered his face. "Woman, I think you need to take your television back. Moreover. . . ."
"My name is Cordelia." Cordy interrupted the vampire. "I don't particularly like being called woman. In fact, if you call me that again, I'll. . . ."
"Cordy." Walking over to them, Angel took the sheets and pillows from her. "Good. You've got the bedding. I'll make up the bed now. You didn't drag any of this on the floor, did you?" He asked her suspiciously.
"Who me? Never." Walking with Angel over to the bed, Cordelia mentally grimaced to herself. She had actually dropped the whole bundle on the floor coming from the vampires' old bedroom.
"What does she think she's going to do to me?" Djoser couldn't believe Cordy's boldness. "I've killed fearsome demons and monsters. She's just a human female."
"I don't know, mate." Eyes once again glued to the television set, Spike opened up a bag of Doritos. "But she's an ex- high school cheerleader and prom queen. Don't think any of those demons and monsters you've killed can live up to those qualifications."
**
The taste was not unpleasant; in fact, the warm liquid flowing down his throat was comforting. So comforting Wesley actually groaned in protest as his head was tugged from behind, signaling him to stop.
"Enough!" Pushing Wes back down on the pillows, Nic reached for the jar of Vaseline on the nightstand. "This isn't the best, but it was all you had, so we'll make do." Dipping three of his fingers in the jar, he coated them liberally.
Lying back, a part of Wesley couldn't believe what he had done. What he was about to do. Chest rising and falling, a part of him struggled to find reason and logic, but lust and curiosity were too strong.
"Easy." Nic whispered softly as he once again massaged the other man's anal sphincter, first just the outside, then gently inserting one finger. "You're awful tight, Wes. Need to loosen you up a bit." Using his other hand, the vampire began rubbing the human's cock. Hard, firm strokes that caused Wesley's eyes to roll back in his head.
So intent on the pleasure the cool hand was giving him, he barely noticed the second and then third finger entering him, stretching him wider. Hips rising off the bed, he reached for the end as his orgasm hit, and warm semen spurted out.
Rubbing the Vaseline and human semen that covered his hands over his own arousal, Nic readied himself. "The trick is to try and relax." He instructed. "Tense up and you'll only feel more pain." Lining up the head of his cock at Wesley's entrance, he slowly pushed in.
A hard pressure that quickly turned to a burning pain caused Wesley to squirm. "I. . .I. . .it. . .please." Body tried to adjust from the transition of pleasure to pain.
"The worst is over." Using his vampiric strength, Nic held Wes down, preventing movement. The head of his cock was now lodged inside, but the other man's tightness was an obstruction that he couldn't get past, unless force was used. "Stop thrashing about. You'll only make it worse."
"Please!" The pain had brought Wesley to his senses, and now he just wanted to end this humiliating scene. "Take it out. I really don't want to do this."
"Too late, Wes. It's started and can't be stopped." Nic had been trying to be gentle, knowing that it was the human's first time, but there was no way that he was going to withdraw now. It was either thrust in hard, or. . . . "Push against me. Try and push me out." He ordered.
Sighing with relief, Wesley obeyed, thinking that he'd force the vampire out of him and that would end things. But pushing only served to loosen his internal muscles, allowing Nic to slide the rest of the way in.
"Oh fuck!" Head swimming with lust, it had been a long time since Nic had felt a human. The heat and tightness around him short-circuited his brain, and he began thrusting in and out without giving Wesley any more time to adjust.
The burning pain was still present but had lessened to a tolerable level. Looking up at Nic's face, Wesley was struck by the craving and hunger he saw and could hardly believed that he was the cause. No one had ever wanted him with such a strong sexual desire. The effect overwhelmed him.
Pushing Wesley's legs further apart, Nic looked down to watch himself slide in and out of the body beneath him. The sight fueled his lust as he began moving faster. Orgasm building, one final deep thrust, and his body bucked as he ejaculated. "Oh Christ, Wes!" Closing his eyes, his body went limp and he collapsed on top of the other man.
Despite the pain, Wesley felt a sense of loss as the hardness in him softened and was slowly withdrawn.
Rolling over, Nic was apologetic. "Sorry, Wes. I was trying to make it enjoyable and minimize your pain, but wasn't too thrilled with your sudden change of heart. You've got to remember. . . ." He pulled the ex-Watcher up against him. "You've got a vampire for a lover, and we aren't the patient, chivalrous kind."
"Is that what we are?" The word that jumped out at Wesley was 'lover.' "We're lovers?"
Nic grinned down at him. "Well, I for one am certainly hoping for another chance. I know this wasn't the best for you, but if you have faith in me, I *guarantee* that the next time will be better for you."
Closing his eyes, Wesley pressed himself against Nic harder, enjoying the feel of the other body against his. He realized that 'his lover' had gotten it wrong. This first time would always live in his memory as 'the best.'
**
Turning off the television, Angel sighed in relief. Another chorus of the Cops' theme song would have him putting his foot through the TV screen. His William had finally fallen asleep on the couch, surrounded by junk food wrappers and bags. Some time before, Djoser had surrendered and had climbed into bed, pillow wrapped around his head to try and muffle the sounds of the television. Cleaning up the wrappers and papers, the vampire shook his head in disgust and wonderment. How could just one Childe make such a mess?
"Hey, big guy." Poking his head through the door, Lorne called to him. "Knock, knock."
"SHHH!" Angel gestured wildly to the Anagogic demon. The last thing he needed was for William to wake up and then he would have to suffer another hour or two of 'Cops.'
"Your kiddies all tucked in for the night?" Lowering his voice, Lorne tiptoed into the room.
"Yeah, and I want to keep it that way." Cleaning up the rest of Spike's clutter, Angel sat down on the couch pulling his Childe into his arms. "If he wakes up again, we'll have to endure an ungodly form of torture."
"Torture?" Lorne looked around the quiet room with puzzlement.
"Yeah, a television program called 'Cops.' You know, I think the humans have now surpassed us demons in the torture department. And that. . . ." Angel gestured toward the TV. "Is their best torture device. We demons have nothing that even compares."
"Actually, I believe there are demons who contribute to this. . .television torture, as you call it." Sitting down in the chair next to the couch, Lorne watched as Angel nuzzled his sleeping Childe.
"Really? How so?"
"Many of the writers who create and write a lot of the television programs are demons. Why do you think that most of what's on TV is produced and filmed here in LA?"
Rolling his eyes up toward the ceiling, Angel wasn't surprised.
Crossing one leg over the other, Lorne looked around with interest. "Spreading out a little?"
"Needed something bigger for the three of us."
"Keeping your Childer close, eh?" Checking out the kitchenette area, Lorne wondered if the vampire had anything to drink other than blood.
"I'm keeping them in sight, until we're safe in our lair in Germany."
"So that's the plan? When will you be going? And would you possibly have something here to wet my whistle?" The Anagogic demon couldn't stand it anymore. If he was going to chitchat, he needed something to keep his throat from going dry.
Angel nodded his head toward the kitchen cabinets. "Help yourself. And I wouldn't mind one either."
While Lorne fumbled around the kitchen looking for glasses, ice, and the booze, Angel began stripping Spike out of his clothes. It was time to put his Childe to bed.
"Must say Angel-Cakes, you don't skimp when it comes to your liquor." Coming back with two glasses filled with ice and a bottle of Haig and Haig Scotch, Lorne was ecstatic. The penny-pinching vampire actually had something decent to drink.
"Going to put him to bed." Angel stood up, Spike in his arms. "Pour me one."
"With pleasure my friend." Humming softly to himself, Lorne filled both glasses with the expensive Scotch. "So-o how is your little one?" He asked, handing a glass to a returning Angel. "Recovered now? Or is he still ill and or depressed?"
"The Ventrue Master drained him, and . . . ." Taking a gulp of scotch, Angel was pensive. "He still hasn't regained his strength."
"Well, it's been four days now. How long does it usually take for your kind to recuperate from a draining?" Lorne peered curiously at the vampire.
"He's been feeding from me. He should be almost back to normal by now." Staring in front of him, another worry for Angel to brood about.
Finishing his glass, Lorne poured himself another. "Your youngest is a sickly one, isn't he? So now what? Do I ask around for a competent demon healer?"
Pouring himself a second drink, Angel gave the Anagogic demon an intent look. "I'm hoping that my brother Damon shows up here soon with our Clan's healer. But in the meantime, if you know of another healer, it wouldn't hurt to have William checked out as soon as possible. . . .I would appreciate the help."
"Don't mention it, crumb cake. I figure I owe you a few." Finishing the rest of his drink, Lorne stood up to leave. "Oh, by the way, wanted to also have a word with Wesley, but no one answers at his apartment, and Cordelia says he hasn't been in the office all day. So what's he been up to today?"
**
The smell of cooking woke Wesley. Sitting up in bed, his brain registered that it was nightfall. When he had fallen asleep, it had been late morning. Shakily he rolled out of bed and stumbled out of the bedroom.
"Hey, Wes." Nic looked up from the stove. "Glad you're up because dinner is almost ready. You able to clean up yourself, or do you need help?"
Still feeling drained, Wesley tried to make sense of the scene in front of him. "Dinner? Why are you making dinner? Vampires. . . ." Putting his hand over his mouth, the early morning events hit him. He had allowed a vampire to drink from him, and he, an Ex-Council Watcher, had drunk from a vampire. An exchange of blood. He was now one of them. "Vampires don't eat food." He mumbled softly.
"Hah! Guess you haven't been around when William has ordered carryout." Turning off the stove, Nic turned to look closely at Wesley. "Listen Wes, I know you're not feeling the best right now, but some good food will help bring you around. Trust me."
"Food? You mean blood, don't you?" Wesley looked at the vampire with puzzlement.
"Blood?" Now Nic was the one who was confused. "What the hell are you talking about?" Comprehension dawned on him, and he couldn't help but throw back his head and laugh. "You're not a vampire, Wes. I didn't turn you. Put your hand over heart. It's still beating."
"But we. . .I drank your blood. Isn't that how one is turned?"
"Only if you're drained to the point of dying. And I was careful not to drink too much from you. Although. . . ." Nic began putting food on a plate. "I was tempted. You as my Childe. My immortal companion. . .lover." Voice lowering, he looked up at Wesley. "You were hard to resist." A flash of that charming, roguish grin that was pure Nic.
"So. . .so why didn't you?" Standing stark naked in the middle of his living room, Wesley couldn't hide his disappointment.
"Because Angelus would skin me alive. . .literally." Taking the plate of food and a glass of orange juice, Nic walked over and set both on the dining room table. "Come eat." He motioned to Wesley. "Even so, I'm thinking I still could be flayed. Once he finds out what happened between us."
Walking over to sit down, Wesley stared at the strange combination of food Nic had prepared for him. Liver cooked with onions, fried eggs, and orange juice. "This. . .err. . .this looks. . .interesting." He mumbled, wondering how he could politely get out of eating dinner.
"Eat." Nic gestured toward the food. "High in iron. Help restore your blood."
"Oh, but of course." Wes now understood the liver and fried eggs. "But. . . ." He looked to see if the vampire had made any tea or coffee. "I'm really not in the mood for orange juice. Is there anything else to drink? I'm very thirsty. In fact, I could use a glass of water."
"SIT." Grabbing Wesley's arm, Nic stopped him from getting up. "When you eat foods high in iron, you should also eat something with vitamin C at the same time. Vitamin C aids iron absorption. Didn't you learn that in Watcher School? Since you were trained to fight vampires, I would have thought that would have been one of your lessons."
"Well. . .I. . . ." Picking up his fork, Wes vaguely recalled hearing a professor speak about blood loss, anemia, and nutrition. "Actually. . .yes, I do remember learning such a fact." Taking a mouthful, he didn't feel hungry, but the food went down surprisingly easy. "What did you mean, Angel might still flay you alive after he finds out about. . .us." He asked between mouthfuls. "Since I'm still among the living and unhurt, this is none of his business."
"Is that what you think?" Grinning, Nic played with the salt and peppershakers. "Tell you what, when we go back to the hotel, you make sure that you tell him so in those exact words."
"Don't worry, I *will*." Wesley didn't understand why this was even an issue. "There really isn't even a problem here, you know. I was. . .willing, so you've done nothing wrong. "
"Angelus won't see it that way. You're his, in my nephew's words, 'human pet.' He owns you."
"That's ridiculous!" Wesley huffed. "Angel doesn't own me. In fact, no one owns me. . .I. . .I own myself. So if *He* starts any kind of argument, I will quickly put a stop to it. As far as I'm concerned, Angel has nothing to say, good, bad, or indifferent about our relationship."
****