Title: Bloodlines, A Rebirth
Author: P'al Kwai
Dedication: Thank you to my beta readers, Red and Donna. And to Kirsty for all her help and inspiration.
Prologue
England, 1857
Hiding him away in a corner of an attic the fledging vampire was weak with hunger. Disoriented, he had lost track of time. He wasn't even sure how long he had been up in the attic. Hearing voices, he curled himself into a ball, making himself smaller.
"He's up here somewhere. I'm sure of it. With our Sire gone now, we can have some fun with him."
"Our Sire tried to kill him. We wouldn't have to even have waited until Angelus left. He doesn't want this Childe. We could have had fun with him before. "
"Better to be prudent. Our Sire is too unpredictable. It's safer now that he's gone."
"Yeah." The effeminate vampire, named Lucien snickered. "The Great Angelus. Pussy whipped by his maternal Sire. Who would believe it? But she crooks her finger, and he comes running. What hold does she have over..."?
Penn, the more dominant of the two vampires elbowed his companion, signaling him to silence. He had caught a whiff of his quarry. Pointing to the far corner of the attic, he communicated to his partner.
Stalking their prey, they brought him down with ease. The young vampire named William had been beaten severely a few days earlier by his Sire, and with no food since then, he presented no challenge to the older and stronger vampires.
Laying flat on his back on the floor, he found himself with the stronger of his two attackers sitting on his chest, punching him in the face. The other attacker, Lucien held his legs down by kneeling on his shins.
"Strip him." Penn ordered. "You can fuck him in the ass. I'm going to knock all his teeth out, and try out his mouth."
Giggling insanely the whole time, Lucien shredded William's pants. "I've got to taste this boy's blood. He's of the Bloodline. Probably has real tasty blood."
Legs being roughly spread apart, William felt pain as Lucien sank his fangs in his inner thigh, while Penn kept hitting him in the mouth. He tried to move his arms which were pinned to his sides by Penn's legs, tried to move his legs to kick off the Lucien, but he was too weak.
Tears wet his eyes and face. Tears of pain, rage and humiliation.
"Penn! Lucien! Stop what you're doing now!" A tall, dark figure came quietly and swiftly in the room.
Looking up, Penn stopped, but only for a moment. "He's of no consequence, Djoser. Our Sire already tried to kill him. If you want to have him first..." Penn gave Djoser his due as the recognized Blood-Childe of their Master.
Knocking Penn to the floor with a blow to the head, the Blood-Childe of Angelus growled at the other vampire. "It's not your place to decide what becomes of this Childe...Lucien! Stop what you're doing now, or I'll have you strung up and whipped."
Scrambling up to his feet, Lucien, a coward at heart quickly went to stand by Penn, the leader of the two.
Narrowing his eyes at Djoser, Penn defiantly did not move. "You're not the Master here Djoser. We're not duty-bound to obey..." His words were cut-off as he was grabbed around the throat and lifted in the air.
"When our Sire is gone, I'M THE MASTER HERE! A fact you better not forget again."
Although he was never one to take a risk, Lucien still jumped in to aid his companion. Djoser was strong, but they had him out numbered two to one. Leaping on the taller man's back, he tried to get a forearm under the chin.
Djoser swung around, trying to throw off Lucien, while attempting to keep his hold on Penn. Locked together, the three vampires looked like they were doing some kind of grotesque dance. After moments of struggling, Djoser finally lost his balance, falling to the floor bringing the other two with him.
Released, Penn stood up, eyeing Djoser who still lay on the floor with Lucien's arms wrapped around his neck. A smile on his face, Penn sensed an advantage. Growling, he moved to attack, but was caught from behind and thrown against the wall. Ramose!
Elbowing Lucien in the stomach, Djoser got the other vampire to release the hold on his neck. Swiftly he flipped himself over on Lucien, straddling him, hand around his throat. "You're going to die for this, Lucien. Attacking me. Attacking your Master's Blood-Childe. The penalty for that is death by torture."
"He never attacked you. We were just defending ourselves. That's the story we're going to tell our Sire." Eyeing Ramose warily who was still standing in an attack stance, Penn rubbed his neck where Djoser's fingerprints were clearly visible.
Growling in anger, Djoser stood up with Lucien by the throat. "The story he'll hear from me will be quite different."
"So." Penn couldn't help but smirk at Djoser in victory. "Angelus is with Darla. Probably won't be back for months. By the time he does come home, he'll have too many other matters to settle, to try and sort out an incident that happened months ago. He won't care. When he's with Darla, he doesn't care about anything."
Now hissing in anger and frustration, Djoser half threw Lucien over to Penn. He knew that Penn was right. "Perhaps I should just kill both of you now. Then when our Sire comes home months from now, it'll just be another trivial incident to him."
Not liking the look in Djoser's eyes, both Penn and Lucien began backing toward the door. "Not even you would risk such a thing. We were both sired by your Father. He would be most displeased if you murdered two of his turned Childer."
"Who said anything about murder. I'll just tell him it was self-defense." Snarling at the two vampires who decided that flight was now in order, Djoser started to launch himself at them again, but was held up by Ramose.
"Leave them. They've retreated now. What more can you do to them?"
"How dare they treat me so! I am my Father's heir. I am second-in-command in this..."
"You are your Father's Blood-Childe. But our Sire is rarely here, and with him gone so much, everyone in the household goes wild. Especially Penn and Lucien. But Penn is right, you know. Angelus cares more about Darla, and keeping favor with the High Master and the Clan than he cares about us."
Pulling himself away from Ramose's restraining hand, Djoser muttered curses, while turning to William who was now sitting up on the floor, listening intently to the conversation with bewilderment. "Get up! Put your pants back on." He threw the shredded pants at the young vampire.
Looking at the fledging with curiosity, Ramose was puzzled. "Why do you defend him? Angelus has found him to be defective. He'll probably be put to death..."
"He's a Blood-Childe. Only his Father or the Master of the Clan can put him to death. If they decide to kill him, then so be it. But in the meantime, he's my brother, and I won't have Penn and Lucien using him as their whore. Go down and have a minion bring up a live human...no I forgot. This Childe won't eat from a live human. Have a female drain some blood from one in a bowl, and have her bring it up to my room. William will stay there until my Sire comes home. Penn and Lucien wouldn't be so bold, as to intrude on my private quarters." Grabbing a shaky William by the arm to steady him, Djoser began to make his way out of the attic.
"I'll guard your door, because I'm sure Penn will try some kind of retribution. He's a mean one, but still a favorite of your Father." Ramose followed behind his friend and companion.
"Darla deliberately tries to find excuses to keep our Sire by her side. She's possessive and envious, and the longer she keeps him away from us, the more out-of-control this household becomes." Djoser was saddened. He was Angelus' first Blood-Childe, and a favorite of the High Master, Heinrich Nest, but it still seemed that he came in second with his Sire when it came to Darla.
"She's never done anything to you, has she?" Ramose was curious.
"There are some things that even Darla has to be careful about. I am the highest ranking Blood-Childe of my generation. She doesn't dare try anything against me...but that doesn't mean she hasn't thought about it." Looking down at the slight vampire he held by the arm, Djoser sighed. "And this Childe. He may be flawed, but he is physically beautiful. If he is allowed to live, I hate to think of what kind of jealous rage Darla will have over him."
****
Part 1
South America, 2000
The body above him was broad, hard and well-known. The rhythm was familiar. Arms above his head, pinned down by a strong hand. Squeezing his sphincter muscles Spike made himself tighter, and was rewarded by hearing a deep groan.
Looking up, he enjoyed watching that striking face with its expression of complete abandonment. The pace quickened, causing him to close his eyes, as his own cock, being rubbed by the friction of his Sire's stomach, began to throb. He was close. So close...
Consciousness invaded his mind, as he felt his body ejaculate. "Bloody hell!" Alone in bed, Spike lay a moment, a wet spot on his stomach. It had been five months since he left Sunnydale and Angel. But every night, he had dreams of Him. Craving Him. Tasting Him.
Rolling out of bed, he was pleased to see that dusk had fallen. Every night he woke with that same old feeling of anticipation. Maybe tonight was the night there would be good news. Nightly, for the last five months hanging around the demon hang-outs, listening to the gossip, listening to the talk about Elder Snow, hoping to hear that there was trouble between Snow and the Council.
He knew he was being foolish. It probably would be years yet before Snow and his human allies began to turn on each other. But he couldn't help it. The need to go and check it out every night was overpowering.
Alex didn't like him to be out so much. According to her, it was too dangerous, too risky. So far Elder Snow's sphere of control had not reached as far as South America, but even so, his philosophies and theories were the talk of the vampire community. His ideas were sparking discontent and rebellion among many vampires in the southern hemisphere. Tired of being second-class to the Bloodline vampires, numerous were beginning to embrace his beliefs.
And Spike, with his Blood-Childe 'mark' became a walking, talking target. The mark of a Blood-Childe used to command respect and honor, but now in these times, the mark only attracted insults and abuse. So instead of being revered for his mark, he was only despised. A fact which verified in Spike's mind that he most certainly was cursed.
Showering and dressing quickly, he made his way downstairs, bracing himself for another argument with Alex. "Don't know what she's always so bloody worried about. She should just come with me."
The vampiress, shortly after arriving and setting up their household, started becoming withdrawn and despondent. She rarely went out, which was certainly a puzzlement to Spike. He would have thought that Alex would have been jumping for joy now that her husband was dead. She was a free woman, not bound to her husband nor his Clan anymore.
Racing down the stairs, jumping down the last few stairs, he found himself in an empty room. {Ok. Where is the bint?} A part of him whispered that something was wrong. She was always there to greet him at sunset. Give him a lecture about not going out. Ignoring his inner voice, he quickly ducked out, happy for the opportunity to escape without having to listen to the usual, boring speech.
Making the usual rounds, an odd sense of premonition kept washing over him, although the night began like every other one. A couple of shots of blood washed down by some beer. Verbal taunts with a couple of vampires who didn't like his 'mark', which inevitably led to fisticuffs, which always led to him being thrown out of the cantina. Undaunted he would just go on to the next one where a similar scenario would occur, and he would again get tossed out.
An hour before dawn, the last stop was made. Nothing new on the demon rumor mill. As always, the lack of good news made him feel depressed and desperate. "Be patient." Alex had told him. But patience was never his strong suit. He wanted to GO HOME.
Ordering a beer and a shot of tequilla, he threw a bill in front of the bartender. "And keep 'em coming mate." Maybe, if I get really 'shitfaced', I won't have anymore fuckin' dreams with Him in it.
"Well, well, well." A figure approached him. "A Blood-Childe. You know, we don't like your kind in here."
Heaving a sigh, before turning to face the other vampire, Spike's only regret was that his drinking was going to be cut short. "Listen mate. I just went a few rounds with a couple of tossers down the street. Neither one of them is walking too good now. So if you want to start something..."
"Yeah. I want to start something. I want to start something with you...William. Blood-Childe of Angelus." The man said with a smirk. "But why don't we go outside first?"
Looking over the vampire carefully, Spike didn't recognize him, wondering how he knew him. "Fine with me, mate. That way, after I break both of your legs, I can come back in here and finish my drinking."
Gesturing toward the door, the man was amused. "After you."
They were hardly out the door, when the stranger grabbed Spike by the lapels of his duster, shoving him up against the wall. "You need to go home to your daddy, boy. You've made too much of a spectacle of yourself here. Word has gotten around and people are starting to wonder about you."
"Just who the fuck are you?" Trying to break the grip on him, Spike was surprised to feel the man's strength. Raising his arms, moving to push the stranger away, he saw it. The mark of a Blood-Childe. This vampire carried it also. But his was partially concealed and could only be seen up close, as the man had had his neck tattooed with large black tentacles.
"We never formally met. But I remember you Childe. Now. Are you going to do what I say? Or do I have to use some physical force to persuade you?"
"Well if you remember me, then you should remember that I never do what people tell me to do. And if you want to go a round, I'll be happy to oblige." Giving a shove, Spike was able to put a little distance between him and the other vampire.
Throwing his head back with a laugh, the man was not at all intimidated. "Yeah, I've heard first hand how well you listen. All the more reason for you to go home to your Sire. Don't know what Alex was thinking...thinking that she could control you."
"You know Alex?"
"Yeah, just had a talk with her in fact. That's how I was able to find you tonight. She needs to pay for what she's done. Hopefully she'll do what's honorable, and put herself to death."
"What the fuck are you talking about? What did Alex do?"
"Broke a sacred law of ours. Took a Blood-Childe away from the protection of his Father. Angelus is most displeased. He's put a price on her head. If she doesn't..."
"Listen mate. It was my idea to go with her. She didn't break any law. And are you sure about your information? My Sire is souled again. With a soul he's not that interested in my welfare, nor is he interested in putting a price on someone's head."
"Who said he was souled?"
"Why that was the plan. Alex was to curse him with a soul..." Breaking off, a thought suddenly hit Spike. She did curse him, didn't she?"He needs to have a soul. That was the deal. Souled, the Council and Snow would let him live."
"And even if he is souled, what makes you think that the Council will keep their word?" Humans aren't any better at keeping their word than demons are. But just another reason for you to go back to your daddy, boy. You should warn him. I've heard rumors. Souled or not souled, they're not planning to leave your Sire alone, believe me."
Studying the man in front of him, Spike tried again to place him. His coloring was dark. Darker than Angel's, but not as dark as Djoser.
"What rumors? I've not heard anything. And what's your interest?"
"My interest? I'm a Blood-Childe, boy, and that makes it my interest." Lighting a cigarette, but not offering Spike one, the stranger eyed the younger vampire with curiosity. "Snow and the Council have turned their sights on the Ventrue Clan. You've heard that, haven't you? Know a few Ventrue vampires. Their Clan managed to capture a couple of Council people. Tortured them for some information. Your Sire's name came up."
"Goddamn Motherfuckers! What's this world coming to when the humans are as underhanded as the demons! Pretty soon, we're not going to any advantages over them at all!"
Laughing, the vampire started to walk away, his head still turned toward Spike. "You know, I think I like you. You don't seem as high and mighty and overbearing as your old man. When this is all over, I'll look you up again. And maybe we'll have a couple of drinks together. That is, of course if your Father permits you to associate with me."
**
"Hey Alex. You sleeping? Need to talk to you. Met some vampire who knows me. Said he was here talking to you...Alex?" Bursting into the vampiress' bedroom, it occurred to Spike, after the fact, that he probably should have knocked first. No Alex. But her loyal servant sat on the floor, face impassive.
"Where's your mistress?" Sniffing the air, he found no trace of his Guardian's scent.
The minion could only point to the bedroom's balcony.
"Listen you stupid cow. In case you haven't noticed, the sun is out. She wouldn't be out on the balcony."
"She did the honorable thing." Voice devoid of emotion.
"What do you mean? The honorable...OH FUCK." Grabbing a blanket to shield himself from the sun, Spike ran out onto the balcony. He could see ashes floating in the air, and laying on the patio below. "Jesus Fuckin' Christ! Alex, you stupid bitch. What the hell did you do?"
Coming back into room, the distraught vampire snarled at the minion. "Get the fuck out of here!" Sitting on the bed, he spoke to the vampiress as if she were still in the room with him.
"I would have explained it to him. Told him it was my plan, my idea." Guilt and that old feeling of abandonment filled him, and his only defense was to start shifting blame. "If you were going to kill yourself, you should have waited until I was back with my Father. Wasn't it your sworn duty to protect me until I was back with him? And my Sire? Did you curse him, or not?"
Falling back on his Guardian's bed, he threw both arms across his face, wondering. How could she be that afraid of the souled Poof? Or maybe that's why she was so afraid, because she never cursed him. And an uncursed Poof, with his temper, was not a person to cross.
**
Pausing for just a moment more, Wesley stood in the hallway, giving Angel one last look. Shaking his head, Wesley slowly started for the stairs. He felt helpless, like he was sitting on a keg of dynamite with his hands tied. He knew it would soon explode, and he could do nothing to stop it.
Angel was that keg of dynamite. Cordelia and Gunn both believed that it was solely due to the reappearance of Darla, but Wesley knew that it was much more than that. He had told his two associates what had transpired in Sunnydale, but hearing it second hand and living it were two entirely different experiences. They didn't truly understand like he did.
Three years ago in Sunnydale, Angel had crossed paths with his maternal Sire, and according to Giles and Buffy, he had dusted her without blinking an eye. Her presence hadn't haunted and obsessed him like it did now. Angel clung to her re-emergence like a drowning man clinging to a life preserver. And Wesley knew, knew it was because she was all that he had left. His Clan was dead. His sons were dead.
The ex-Watcher recalled the confusion and the panic from five months ago. Initially he and Giles had thought that the vampiress Alex had cast some kind of 'harm' spell on Angel, because when the majik hit him, he collapsed on the floor in obvious pain. Rushing over to him with Giles, their attention diverted, the vampiress escaped with ease, as every minion in the household feared her about as much as they feared their Master.
When the smoke cleared, and they finally realized that Angel had not been harmed in any way, both Alex and Spike were gone. No one knew what motives the vampiress had. Had Spike gone with her willingly or not? Both he and Giles tended to believe that Spike had been part of Alex's plot, as his two bodyguards claimed that he attacked them. But it had them all baffled. Why would Alex and Spike want Angel recursed? And what were they escaping from?
And Angel. A newly resouled Angel went ballistic when it was discovered that Spike was missing. A fact that puzzled them all. Why was he so concerned about a missing Childe? In the past, a souled Angel had never worried about Spike.
But Sunnydale was turned upside down, as all of them, including every minion in the household searched for the pair. This went on for two days and nights, until Riley brought them the news.
He had heard the news at Willy's. It seemed that Riley had started a habit of stopping there for a drink or two. The gossip had traveled quickly through demon community. Spike and Alex had gotten in a skirmish with some of Snow's minions. Spike had been killed, but as far as anyone knew, the vampiress had survived. But her whereabouts were unknown. As a skilled sorceress, she undoubtedly had a few spells at her disposal to cover her tracks well.
Enraged, Angel passed the word among the demon population that he wanted any information on the vampiress' location. But no demon was able to come up with anything. In Sunnydale or in L.A. Time passed, and Wesley began to see a gradual deterioration in Angel. He was getting closer and closer to the edge. And now Darla's return was the straw that was breaking the camel's back. She just might be the factor that would push him over the edge. And Wesley didn't know how to stop it.
**
"What a Poof!" Spike walked through the hotel, taking a good look around. "Still thinks he's king of the fuckin' world. Has to have his palace to live in."
It had taken part of a day to track down his Sire, because Spike had first gone to the original Angel Investigation's office, only to discover that it no longer existed. But locating the new office hadn't been hard, and upon arriving, he had let himself him in. But the hotel was empty. No one was at home.
Going back down the stairs to the first floor, he debated with himself. His first impulse was to run out and try to track his Sire down, but that plan was impractical, with a city the size of L.A. He needed to just stay put and wait for Angel. But that was asking a lot of an impetuous, hyper vampire whose patience was at its breaking point after more than five months.
"Spike!" Reaching the ground floor again, he recognized the voice. "Spike! Aren't you suppose to be dead? Because I'm pretty sure that's what Wesley told us...er although I wasn't listening to him with my total attention. He tends to go on and on, and out of habit now, my ears just start to tune him out."
"Cordelia...you look like shit! Hate your hair." Coming down the last few stairs, Spike greeted the ex-cheerleader, and unlike Wesley and Angel, he immediately noticed her new haircut.
Giving him a look of disgust, the slim, brunette woman, walked over to her desk, setting her packages down. "Like I care what you think. The Billy Idol Wannabe who only has one outfit to his name. The 80's are over, you know."
"So where's the Lord and Master?" He asked, making himself comfortable on Cordelia's desk.
"Hey! Get off my desk. Sit in a chair. That's what they were made for. What's the matter with you? Born in a barn?"
"A horse stable. I think it was a horse stable...so, you expecting Angel back soon?" Impatience was growing again, caused by his Sire's essence surrounding him here in the hotel, inflaming his whole body.
"God only knows! He's out chasing after Darla again." Pulling her new outfit out of the shopping bag, Cordelia held it up to herself. "What do you think?"
"Makes you look fat." A quick glare and a quick retort. He didn't give a damn about her new outfit. "Who's Darla?"
"Makes me look fat! You can't tell that by just seeing it like this. What do you think of the color on me? Look again. Oh, and he's looking for thee Darla. His Sire. You know...yeah you should know, cause isn't she your grandmother?"
With a cigarette between his lips, Spike mentally rolled his eyes. "Cordelia, what drugs are you on? Darla has been dead for more than three years now."
"Not any more smart-ass. And hey, this is a smoke free building. So don't even think about lighting that cigarette up. A big law firm here in L.A., Wolfram and Hart performed some kind of ritual and brought her back from the dead. She's human now. And Angel has been Mr. Obsessed-Man. All he thinks about is her. Trying to save her from Wolfram and Hart. Trying to save her soul. Chasing her all around L.A....it's enough to make you want to puke."
Looking down at her new outfit, Cordelia didn't notice Spike's jaw tightening. "Cordelia, are you feeling alright? Even if Darla was brought back, she wouldn't be human and have a soul."
"Hey, I don't understand it anymore than you do. But I'm telling you that she's back, she's human, and she has a soul. And all Angel can think about is her! She needs him and he has to be there for her."
"So Angel's all wrapped up with Darla, ehh." Jaw clenched so tight, that a tic was developing. "Hasn't mentioned anything about...oh...about feeling a little bad about losing both his sons?"
Never one to be overly sensitive to other people's feeling, and worried now that perhaps she did look fat in her new outfit, Cordelia missed the hidden question that Spike was asking. So with her usual blunt style, Cordelia answered the vampire. "Nope. It's just been Darla this and Darla that. I've not heard him say anything about you, or your brother...what was his name? It was a weird one, wasn't it? "
"Yeah, it's different. Djoser. My brother's name is...was Djoser." Standing up, Spike felt a terrible hurt that began in the middle of his chest and seem to radiate through his whole body. He hurt for his dead brother, and for himself, alive, but all alone.{Fuckin' Wanker! Always did love Darla more than any of us! When she was around, he never gave a damn about us. And I suppose he doesn't give a damn now!}
"Hey Spike?" Cordelia was finally able to think about something other than her new outfit, when she saw the vampire start to head for the door. "Where you going? You should be here when Angel comes back. He'll want to..."
Turning around, but still walking, Spike hid his feelings from the human. "Oh, I'll be back. Maybe come back tomorrow evening. The Poof...er Angel probably won't be back until dawn. So...I'll come back tomorrow. Oh and by the way...if you should happen to see Angel or Wesley too for that matter, could you not say anything about me? Want to give them a big surprise."
Something finally clicked in Cordelia's brain. A doubt began to germinate. "Ok. But you better be back here by tomorrow. Angel will want to know that you're alive now. If you're not back by then, I'm going to..." She broke off, as the front door of the hotel swung shut.
****
Part 2
Sitting in a nearby pub, Spike knocked back another shot of Jack Daniels. His hand shook. His head ached. Running his conversation with Cordelia over and over in his head.Darla! Darla's back! How is that fuckin' possible? And my Sire. My Sire. Enslaved by her again.
Memories bounced around and collided in his head. So young he had been. It had taken time for him to fully understand. But later, later he would come to comprehend who Darla was. Come to know the power she held. Come to know the hatred she had for anyone that might present competition to her for her precious Angelus.
"Torture him. Impale him. Do it for me." Her words. Her request.
"And the Poof doesn't even know that it was his Darla who had me impaled. No one ever told him. I never told him." Talking quietly to himself, Spike stared moodily at the shot glass he held in his hand.
"Now what? Go back to South America. Yeah, I'll go back to South America, and find that fuckin' Tosser who insinuated that my Sire cared...cared that I was dead. Yeah he cared alright. Darla shows up and any mournful thoughts he had about me and Djoser goes right out the...oh fuck! I'm supposed to warn Angel about Snow. Bloody hell! Like I'm going to go see the bastard now that he's with Darla! Probably beat me for disturbing him. Wanker needs to have peace and quiet when he's with her.
Getting his brain to work when it was in an alcoholic haze, took a few minutes. "I got it!" Slamming his fist down on the bar, the inebriated vampire was pleased with himself. He had figured out the solution to his dilemma. "I'll call Cordelia. And she can tell his Royal Highness about..."
"Listen pal. I think you've had enough for tonight. Why don't you just go home now?" The bartender didn't like that Spike was sitting there talking to himself like a loon.
He never saw the hand reach out and grab him by the front of the shirt. "I really don't feel like going home just yet, mate. I need to make a phone call. When I get back, you better have another shot poured and a fresh beer waiting for me. Are we clear with each other?"
"Yeah...sure...whatever you say." Seeing Spike in full game face, the bartender now realized who he was dealing with. Man, I need to get a job in a better neighborhood where the demon clientele have more class.
Digging in his jean pockets for some change, senses dulled by the liquor flowing through his system, Spike never noticed the group of vampires, each with a band of white in their hair, coming into the pub. But they saw him. A vampire with the mark of a Blood-Childe.
Four minions. It was ridiculously easy for them. Intoxicated, trying to remember the number for Angel Investigations, Spike presented almost no resistance. Knocking him unconscious, they dragged him out of the tavern while the rest of the demon and human patrons looked on with disinterest. Outside he was thrown into a cargo van.
Coming upon the scene, a tall young mortal man watched with interest. He had been noticing more and more of these vamps with the white streaks in their hair. Wondered who they were, where they came from, and what they were doing here in L.A.
**
The prisoner was pinned to the wall with railroad spikes that had been first dipped in holy water. Two through his wrists, legs spread with one through each calf, and one big one through the abdomen.
The one through the abdomen makes the whole picture symmetrical.
The vampire with the sunglasses cocked his head studying the image before him. "Wake him. I want to speak with him." Clipped commands to the two minions in attendance.
Holding smelling salts to the unconscious vampire, until he awoke coughing.
Eyes filling with tears from the anguish, Spike felt himself trying to take deep breaths. A mortal habit that automatically kicked in, when he was in great pain.
"Not feeling any burning are you? How odd. Because I'm sure my mortal allies told me that you were poisoned." Stepping closer, the vampire spoke to Spike in a gentle voice, like a father speaking to his son. "My, my, my. Idiot minions got you confused with another. Reported that they had killed you. Oh...but wait...you were seen with Luc's Bitch. The vampiress who doubles as a sorceress. Ahh...now it's all clear to me."
Inhaling and exhaling like a human, Spike tried to control the pain that was radiating throughout his body. "You...know...me?" Looking into a face half covered by a pair of huge mirrored sunglasses.
"The flawed Blood-Childe of Angelus. The Childe who was responsible for the decline of the once mightiest Clan. But tell me." Snow stepped closer, as if he were going to whisper in Spike's ear. "What is it about you, that your Father, the mighty Angelus loves so much? You can tell me. I won't tell anyone."
Face covered in sweat, blood and tears, Spike glared into Snow's face, wishing he could see the man's eyes. Wishing he could see what was hidden behind the sunglasses. "How..." He panted out. " How...do you know me?"
"I was there at your Presentation. Saw the High Master condemn you to death. Saw the Master's consort request your impalement...She didn't like you much. Did you insult her at one time?"
"I-I..." He didn't quite know how to answer his captor.
"That disgusting mark!" Snow's mood abruptly changed. "It offends me. I don't want to look at it anymore." Turning to the minions again, he barked another order. "Bring me a scalpel."
A frightening realization was beginning to break through the fog in Spike's brain. This Wanker is a real nutter!
A hand lightly held a scalpel. A scalpel that had first been dipped in holy water. A delicate cut and SEARING PAIN, as the scalpel cut away his skin. Layers of skin cut away. His mark removed.
"There." Stepping back a few feet, Snow studied his handiwork. A bloody gaping wound. The sight made him happy. Temper vanishing as quickly as it appeared. "Much better. I'd like to come visit you tomorrow. If that's alright with you? And we can talk again." Throwing the bloodied scalpel down, he turned and left the room, followed by the minions.
Spike, eyes closed, head hanging, felt the pain where he had been cut. It hurt him more than the spikes, more than any wound he had ever suffered. That bloody mark. It had only been a major aggravation to him. But still. It was the one gift, the one sign of respect that his Father had ever bestowed on him.
**
IT IS HIM! The informant didn't lie. Hidden up in the ducts, looking out the vent, the vampire assessed the situation.
"We've got to get him out of here." A hiss in his ear. So soft. Only he could hear it.
A slight nod of his head. So slight, but enough to communicate to his companion. Moving away from the vent, melting deeper into the shadows, the two vampires waited and watched. So well trained, they remained absolutely motionless, watching the scene below.
"He's recovered slightly, hasn't he?" The Master of the lair asked his minions.
"He tries not to eat. But we forced some pig's blood down him yesterday."
"You should eat Childe." A soft hand caressing his face. "You do need to keep up your strength."
Tears of blood ran from his eyes, but no scream had come out of his mouth. Spike refused to give them that satisfaction. His tongue was bloodied from biting it so much, but a voice kept whispering in his brain. 'You are of the Bloodline. Your Father is Angelus, son of Heinrich Nest who was a direct descendant of Caine himself. You are above these common vampires. You *won't* scream for them! Make your Father proud.'
But even so, he couldn't help but gasp as a metal spike was again shoved through his stomach. That had been the pattern. Torture him until he was at the brink, then ease up, even feeding him some blood. And when he was slightly recovered, they would start the torture all over again. It was never ending. And that was the greatest torment. Knowing that it would never end.
Up in the ducts, the leader of the two vampires couldn't help but flinch as the metal spike was shoved in the prisoner. His lithe body tensed. The name William rested on his lips, while murderous thoughts about Snow ran through his head.
"Funny. Your body isn't burning up like it's suppose to. But still, something isn't right with you. Your wounds aren't healing much." The face with the sunglasses examined the ugly injuries that covered his hostage. "It might do. A few more weeks, and you'll be in such bad shape that I think you'll make a big enough impression on your Father. Oh it will be glorious. The Great Angelus. How I would love to see his face when he see his cherished son, dying. Dying in pain and torment."
If he could have, Spike would have laughed in the eyeless face. Through his pain, he held on to one small kernel of satisfaction. Bugger thinks that my Sire will care. Guess he hasn't heard that Darla is back.
As always, Snow took his leave by saying he would come visit tomorrow. He said it like a friend who would return and visit an ailing buddy. And Spike, unable to see the man's expression could never figure out if Snow was just plain crazy, or was playing with him. And it frightened him.
Seeing them exit the room, the hidden vampire repressed the urge to go crashing out the vent. His training told him to wait. Wait and be totally sure that the coast was clear. Each minute seemed like an hour, but he disciplined himself. When enough time had passed, the two concealed vampires began to slowly make their move.
Since Spike presented no danger to anyone, Snow only kept one guard on him. And the sentry, bored with sitting and watching a motionless hostage for hours on end, was lax. Half asleep he never sensed or heard the two intruders until it was too late. Moving in sync, one grabbed him from behind, twisting his head, snapping his neck, while the other plunged a stake in his heart. It was over before it had started.
Hearing and smelling the arrival of more people, Spike wearily opened his eyes. That Nonce Snow is back already? But it wasn't Snow who stood in front of him. Black eyes staring at him, causing him to believe that he had finally died and was in hell. Because there standing in front of him was his brother Djoser.
**
He was trying to run, but he couldn't. Two bloody punctures in each calf where the spikes had been. They hurt him. Made his legs weak, so he kept falling when he tried to run. He was being chased. Chased by a mob of vampires led by Snow. A Snow who no longer wore glasses. But he had no eyes. Just big black sockets. Stumbling again, he tried to get up, but wasn't fast enough, as the horde caught him. Hands on him...all over him. Fighting. Trying to escape the hands...
"William! Wake up! Wake up, damn you!"
Panting heavily, trying to catch his breath, Spike awoke, pushing some unknown hands off of him. He hated being touched by strangers.
"He's not hot to the touch, but he's breathing."
"I'm breathing, because I was running, idiot." He found himself in a strange bed, being held from behind by his brother with some unfamiliar person standing over him.
"You say he was poisoned?" The unknown vampire moved to exam Spike again.
"KEEP YOUR BLOODY HANDS AWAY FROM ME!" Cringing away from those unfamiliar hands. "And I was cured. Some mortals cured me. I'm not poisoned anymore."
Realizing that his patient was not going to cooperate at all, the healer nodded his head at Djoser. "I'll let the Master know his status." And slowly backed out of the room.
Taking stock of his surroundings, Spike saw he was in a well furnished bedroom. Leaning up against the hard body of his brother, he felt relieved and contented despite his pain. "Djoser, is this hell? Because it's not as bad as everyone says."
A smile touched Djoser's mouth. "We're not in hell. We've been taken by the
Ventrue Clan. We're at their Master's residence."
"Bloody hell! They're not going to kill us?" Mind trying to make sense of everything. Hesitantly he laid a hand on one of the arms that held him. "You're alive. Alex said you were dead. Said that Snow and the Council killed the whole Clan. Said that no..."
"It'll take more than some commoner who thinks he's better than he is, and a group of mortals to kill me. They have no idea who they're challenging."
"Give it a rest, will you. You're as arrogant as the Almighty Poof." A bit of contempt tinged his voice, but to counter it, Spike pushed himself back into his brother's embrace. "Hey, did Ramose ever find..." The memory of the night before flashed before his eyes. Ramose had been there too. "Where's Ramose?" Panic began to fill him. Ramose following behind them. Covering their backs. "WHERE IS..."
"William. He died proudly. He died protecting his Sire's Blood-Childer. He will be remembered with honor."
"GODDAMN MOTHERFUCKING SNOW!" He couldn't help it. Tears began to fill his eyes. Pushing himself away from Djoser, he wanted to scream, he wanted his hands around Snow's throat, he wanted...wanted his Sire. A Sire, not under the influence of Darla, who could make everything right again.
Jumping up out of bed, he collapsed on the floor as his legs were too weak to hold him up.
"William. It's alright. We're safe here. The Ventrue Clan has always honored the Blood-Childer of other Clans. And I think that the Master here is going..." Kneeling down on the floor beside his brother, Djoser was interrupted by the entrance of minions, followed by the Master of the Ventrues.
What immediately struck Spike was the Master's splendor. Tall with mesmerizing eyes, he was so regal. The Ventrue's Master was old. Older even than the now dead Heinrich Nest. But unlike Nest, he didn't reject his human traits. Beautiful human face.
Christ, he looks kinda like his royal Poofiness...oh wait, he's older, so I guess the Poof kinda looks like him.
Seeing Spike on the floor, the Master immediately signaled to the minions to help him up.
"NO! I'm alright." Shaky, but with his brother's help, he managed to crawl back into bed.
"I've thought it over." The Master turned to Djoser. "I will accept your Father's proposal. And as a gesture of goodwill, I will release you and your brother over to him. It would be better if both of you got out of New York anyways. I'm making arrangements now. You'll be smuggled out of New York to Philadelphia, and from there put on a plane to L.A."
Spike didn't like not knowing what was going on. And he also didn't like the Ventrue Master's highhanded ways. Another Angelus! Just gives orders and expects everyone to fall in line. No wonder Snow wants to kill all the Bloodline vampires. A bunch of pompous Poofs."I don't want to go to L.A."
"WILLIAM!" Djoser hissed at his brother. The Ventrue Master was finally seeing things his way. They would be set free and reunited with their Sire.
"You will give your Father a message. I will agree to an alliance with him, but he and whoever's left in his family must pledge their allegiance to me." The Master continued, ignoring Spike.
"Like we're going to bow down to a bunch of artsy, fartsy Nancy boys." Tired, confused and in pain, Spike just wanted to be as obnoxious as possible. "AND you're not sending me to L.A."
Sighing to himself, hoping that William didn't blow the whole deal, Djoser would have given up a couple of fingers for a muzzle.
Liquid eyes turned to Spike. "You have to go back to L.A., Childe. You have to go back to your Sire."
"Don't want to go back to that Poof!" If one more person tells me that I have to go back to Angelus, I'm going to start ripping some throats out! FUCKER! Like I'm going to subject myself to that Wanker again when he's in love. Never again! Not after the Slayer!
"WILLIAM!" Djoser couldn't help but give him a discreet nudge in the back. "Shut . . . ."
"Whether you want to go back or not is not an issue." The Master interrupted the exchange. "You still carry poison in your system. You need your Sire. You need his blood."
****
Part 3
Leaning back in his seat as the plane took off, Djoser felt profoundly relieved. He finally was on his way back to L.A. Five months. Four of them, a hostage of the Ventrue Clan. He had not been mistreated in any way, as the Ventrues had held him as a privileged prisoner, befitting his status as a Blood-Childe.
But even so, the Ventrue Master had been wary of him. Wary of his overtures. The Ventrues had for centuries been dominated by the more aggressive Tremeres. And the Ventrue Master knew, knew how treacherous and manipulative the Tremeres were. So all of Djoser's requests were denied. No message could be sent to Angelus, telling him that Djoser was alive. And Djoser was helpless. Helpless, because his prison, ironically was also the only safe haven he had from Snow, so escape was not even an option. The Ventrues were his only hope for getting out of New York alive.
"Two tomato juices." He told the flight attendant.
"Yeah, but put vodka in mine." Giving his brother a dirty look, Spike didn't like it that Djoser had ordered for him.
"NO vodka." Grabbing the glasses of tomato juice out of the human's hands.
"Listen you bleedin' Tosser. Who the hell do you..."
"No liquor. Won't do you any good in your state."
"Oh thank you very much Doctor Djoser. But what the hell do you know about it? Booze is just what I need. It will help kill the pain..." Realizing what he just admitted, Spike stopped himself.
"Your wounds haven't healed at all, have they? You're still in a lot of pain."
"They've healed...a little." He lied sulkily.
"Humpff." Snorting in disbelief, the vampire checked around him. The flight attendants well away from them now, and no one paying them any attention. Turning his body away from the aisle, he unobtrusively slit his wrist, letting some of his blood drip into the tomato juice.
"You don't have to do this. I'm really ok." It was a half hearted protest, as the scent of his brother's blood was making his mouth water. His brother's blood. A weak version of his Sire's blood, but still, better than most.
"Must you argue about everything? I can't wait until we get to L.A., and you're back in our Father's custody. You're such a pain." After trickling a fair amount of blood in the glass, Djoser sucked on his wrist. "Go ahead. Drink. You need it."
Taking a sip, Spike was silent for a moment. Not looking at his brother, staring down at the glass in his hands, he spoke quietly. "I'm not going to go back with our Sire."
"William, why are you being so difficult? You're a Blood-Childe. Your place is with your Father. Besides, you heard what the Ventrues said. You're still poisoned. You need his blood." Dealing with his brother was becoming so exasperating, that the idea of a Bloody Mary was now starting to sound attractive to Djoser.
"Djoser. Darla's back. He's back with Darla."
Startled, Djoser sat up straighter, staring at his younger brother. {That fucking Snow not only broke him physically, but mentally too.}
"Don't look at me like that." Face twisted in a scowl. "I'm not addlebrained. Some...a..." Racking his brain, trying to remember what Cordelia had told him. "A wolfman performed a ritual and brought her back from the dead." He finally just blurted out.
"A wolfman? A wolfman brought..."
"NOT a wolfman! Some lawyers. They're named Wolfman...Wolfman and...something. Anyways, they brought Darla back from the dead. She's back, and according to Cordelia, has our Sire wrapped around her finger again."
"Who's Cordelia?"
"Cordelia. The dark haired Twit who's his secretary. You saw her in Sunnydale. She's..." Heaving a sigh and wondering if his brother always had been this obtuse. "It's not important who Cordelia is. What's important is that Angelus is with Darla again. She hates me. If I go back with him, she'll want to kill me...she's the one who had me impaled, you know."
"SHE'S THE ONE WHO HAD YOU IMPALED! How do you know that? I didn't think that you had any memory..."
"Broken memories. Thought they were dreams...err nightmares for the longest time. But after I was told what happened, I realized what they really were. And I remember her, Djoser. I remember her face, how she looked at me with hate. How she made her request to the Master."
"Jesus Fucking Christ!" Djoser muttered half to himself, while turning to look for a flight attendant. He needed some vodka. "Did you actually see Darla?"
"Well...no...I went to the...Snow's minions jumped me. Never had a chance."
"Don't you think you need to verify this Cordelia's story? Or do you consider her such a reliable source?"
"Jesus!" Spike mumbled, turning to look out the airplane window. {I'M AN IDIOT! And of course it's my brother who's the one to point that out to me.} Contemplating quietly, while Djoser got the flight attendant's attention to request some vodka.
"I want some too."
"Don't push me William. I've had just about enough..." The look on Spike's face made the words die in his throat. Hunched down in his seat, the younger vampire looked small and forlorn. Defenseless, vulnerable, and all alone. Changing his tone, and in a gentle voice he tried to put his younger brother at ease. "When we get to L.A., I'll go and see our Sire. See if what this Cordelia said is true about Darla being alive. I'll get a motel room for you. You can stay there until I know something for sure."
"He's thinks I'm dead. If Darla is there, don't tell him any different."
Dead?. . .oh Christ, I need another drink. Motioning to the flight attendant, Djoser requested more fortification, while asking Spike in a quiet voice. "Why does our Father think that you're dead?"
"Well...I got Alex to recurse him, and then I..."
"Recursed him! He's got a soul..." Voice raising another decibel.
"Will you stop interrupting me? Do you want to hear what happened or not?"
Downing his second drink in a couple of gulps, Djoser sat and held his head while Spike told him everything that had transpired five months ago in Sunnydale.
"What the hell did you do, William? If he's resouled now, he probably won't want to have anything to do with us. And any hope of an alliance with the Ventrues is a lost cause."
"Hey, I was just trying to save his sorry arse. And if you wouldn't have gone and supposedly got yourself killed, then maybe he wouldn't have gone around the bend. He heard you were dead and flipped. He was getting ready to march to New York, backed up by a whole army of three. Alex, Wesley, and some imaginary vampire ally. The deal with the Council was the only way to go."
Heaving a huge sigh, Djoser could only close his eyes for a moment. "William, our Sire has lived almost twice as long as you have. Why would you think him to be that stupid? And what the fuck was wrong with Alex that she let you talk her into your crazy scheme?"
"Djoser, he had lost it. He was like he was three years ago, when he wanted to suck the world into hell. Totally irrational."
"You have no faith in him at all, do you? For your information, that imaginary vampire's name is Damon, and our Sire was probably going to New York to negotiate with the Ventrues. See if they would ally with him against Snow and the Council. When I was in New York, he had me approach them. Feel them out."
"I thought he sent you to New York to spy on his brother and our Clan."
"A little of both. Our Sire wanted the Ventrues help. Proposed that if they helped him take over the Tremere Clan, then he would agree to have the two Clans form an alliance. Together, the two Clans would be powerful enough to take on Snow and the Council."
'I've got a few aces up my sleeve.' Spike remembered his Sire's words. "Bloody hell! He really did have some aces up his sleeve."
"WHAT? You do know that the Ventrues won't ally themselves with him, if he has a soul."
"No shit, Sherlock! Well...I'm not positive he's souled."
"Not positive? You just said that you had Alex resoul him." Nothing was ever simple with William.
"Well, right before I left South America, some Wanker who I think was a friend of Alex, tried to suggest, that perhaps, Alex never really recursed him. But I don't know for sure, because she took a dive in the sun before I could ask her." Speaking to Djoser, but not looking at him, because he was afraid of what he would see. Total disgust at his screw-up, younger brother. "I fucked up, didn't I?"
Running his hand through his thick black hair, Djoser was thrown. He didn't know what to do, but he wanted to say something, anything that would reassure his younger brother. "We'll follow the plan. I'll go and see him first. There really is no other choice, you know. You need his blood..."
"Listen, with or without a soul, if he's with Darla now, I am not going to ask him for one measly little drop of blood."
"You can't go around in the condition you're in. If Darla's with him, I'll figure out a way to separate them, and then you can go to him..."
"Forget it! Women bring out the worst in him. I sat in that wheelchair for months after Slutty dropped an organ on my head. I begged, pleaded with him. His blood would have sped up the healing process. But all he did was laugh in my face, and then to taunt me further, he turned around and gave some of his blood to Dru. I refuse to be humiliated like that again by him. And if you're thinking you can make me go and see him, then think again. I won't do anything, I don't want to do."
Blue eyes met black. Djoser could feel Spike's emotion, his furor. "I would never see you humiliated like that again. If our Sire has reverted to a crazed madman, like you say he was three years ago, then I will defy him myself."
**
Balancing himself easily on top of the wall, Djoser looked down on the courtyard. Hidden in the dark for a moment, he watched and listened to the man and woman below, while contemplating his next move. Confront or leave?
He struggled to make up his mind. His brother needed their Sire, but he couldn't deny his own eyes, his own senses. William had been right. Darla was somehow back from the dead. Alive and very human. But even as a human, she unsettled Djoser. Perhaps even scared him. In the past, she had been powerful. But she hadn't derived her power from her physical strength. Her power came from her ability to control and manipulate. Control the ones in power. The Old Master. His Father.
A semi understanding had been reached between the two people below. Darla, a master manipulator, had decided to go along with her Childe for the moment. Soul or not, she had no doubt that given time, she could get her way with him. She had always gotten her way with him before
And Angel, desperately hoping that the Host of the karaoke bar would have the answer they sought, was determined to find a solution. He would not have her die as a human, nor would he turn her back to a demon. Taking Darla's hand, he started to head back inside, when a scent hit his nostrils. A familiar scent. A scent he thought dead. Stopping in his tracks, head whipping around, eyes searching the darkness.
"Angelus?" Now mortal, Darla could not smell it. Could not smell him.
Superior eyesight spying the man on top of the wall. "Djoser." A disbelieving whisper. "Djoser. My Childe."
"Djoser?" Peering into the darkness, Darla tried to see what Angel was seeing.
Half glad that he had been detected, because now he had no decision to make, the vampire, in one smooth, graceful move leapt down from the wall. Warily he approached his Sire and GrandSire.
"Djoser!" Instinctively Angel moved toward his Childe, but was held back by two still surprisingly strong hands.
"Angelus! Be careful. He's dangerous."
"Darla. My Childe is back. I thought he was dead. He's..."
"He's not your Childe anymore. He's a soulless demon, and you're...you're not."
He is souled. Narrowing his eyes, Djoser stood still, body tensed. He had never known his Sire when he was souled, but he had listened carefully to his brother, and knew that a cursed Angelus could very well be a dangerous enemy.
"Angelus." Keeping her body between the two men, Darla continued to poison Angel against his son. "You refuse to turn me. You want to save my soul. How can I believe that you're sincere, if you go and protect your soulless son? And we all know that he is soulless." Turning to look at her GrandChilde, Darla gave him a small smile that said, 'you'll never best me, boy.' "Tell us Djoser. Tell us how many you've killed in the last century? Or has it been so many that you don't even know the number any more? And why don't you describe to your Father...your Father who has now dedicated himself to protecting the innocent, how you killed your last victim. I'm sure he'd be fascinated by the details."
"Darla, Djoser was with me in..."
"Stop being such a damned hypocrite Angelus. You're either a protector of the innocent, and the slayer of evil, or you're not. If you say you're not, then turn me now, and you, me and your Childe can live happily ever after." Pulling her hair back, she bared her neck, daring him to make a choice.
And Angel could only hesitate. And that moment of hesitation told Djoser all he needed to know. A cursed Sire now reunited with a human Darla only spelled trouble and possibly doom for him and his brother. Moving so quickly and agilely, Djoser was up and over the wall before even Angel had time to react.
"He doesn't want you. He doesn't want a Father who has a soul." She was so convincing, as she grabbed Angel's arm before he could start after his Childe. "And why would you, who is now souled, want him?"
If he admitted to wanting his Childe, then he would have to then give her what she wanted, and Angel was still not prepared to do that.
**
"William. Wake-up. You're dreaming again." Djoser shook the younger vampire awake. His brother had always had a sleep plagued by nightmares. But now, after Snow, his nightmares had taken on a stronger intensity.
"Bloody hell!" Spike awoke, panting and gasping for breath. Couldn't seem to outrun Snow, no matter what.
"William, we need to start thinking about leaving L.A." Djoser could only eye Spike with worry. They had been lying around the motel room, watching television for three days. Depression, and uncertainty had kept them there, immobile and listless.
Lighting up a cigarette with a shaky hand, Spike pretended disgust. "I was ready to leave this crummy town three days ago, but you're the one who had to stay. Stay and see if Soulboy had a change of heart. I'm telling you, if he does show up looking for us, it will only be to stake us. We should leave before he decides to do that. And before Snow figures out that we're not in New York anymore. L.A. will be the first place that Snow looks."
Lying back on one of the beds, Djoser threw an arm over his face. "We can go to Mexico. There's someone there who will take us in for a while. In Mexico, I'll make arrangements for us to go to my birthplace. We'll lose ourselves in the desert there. The largest desert in the world. It's harsh and deadly for both humans and vampires. But I know it. I know how to survive in it. No one will find us there. Not Snow. Not Darla....Not our Sire."
"Never been to the desert. Don't want to go there"
The older vampire sighed deeply. There hadn't been one suggestion that he had made, that his brother had agreed with. "There's some powerful majik in my country. Perhaps there, something can be done for you."
"You're not doing any mojo on me. Don't trust it. Something always goes wrong."
"William!" Now Djoser was totally frustrated. "Something has to be done for you. You can't spend the rest of your existence...like that." Waving a hand at Spike's wrists. Wounds that had not healed. Skin gone, revealing flesh that resembled dark red hamburger.
"Sunnydale. We need to go to Sunnydale."
"Why? What's in Sunnydale?"
"Rupert Giles. He's the one who cured me. Gonna go back and tell him that he didn't do it right. Needs to do it again and get it right."
"And why would he help us? He only helped us the last time, because of our Sire. I smelled fear on him every time he was around..."
"Yeah, the Old Boy really gave it to Rupert three years ago. But I have to give the mortal credit. He didn't cave. Tougher than a lot of vamps I know." Stretching slim arms above his head. "He'll help me. He's a soft touch. Show him my wounds, and he won't be able to say no...and the only thing that we might have to do in return is help them save the world, or kill some demons, or some such rot. You up to that?"
A snort of contempt. "I could put the Slayer out of business, if I chose to."
"Don't have a problem with modesty, do you?...Nay, I have faith in Rupert. He'll cure me, and then..."
"You'll come with me to the desert."
"Yeah, right. So you can abandon me there? Not bloody likely."
"William!" Startled, the warrior vampire began to protest, but then remembered. He had abandoned William once before, so why wouldn't his brother expect a repeat performance. Sitting up, staring intensely at the other man. "It's been the biggest regret of my existence. I spent almost a century trying to make amends, make it..."
"Yeah, I know what you did. Alex told me. Chased me around, being my guardian demon. Listen, come with me to Sunnydale, and after we get Rupert to whip up a cure for me, I'll then consider going with you to the desert."
Djoser had no problems with that plan, as he nodded his agreement. "We're Blood Brothers. We need to stick together. If you absolutely refuse to go to the desert, then I'll go with you wherever you want...but..." He watched his brother turn the television on. "Shouldn't we leave for Sunnydale now?"
"Nay, want to see if that Tosser from yesterday is going to win a million dollars. If he does, it will be a crime against humanity. No one that stupid should have gotten as far as he did. We'll go tomorrow at sunset."
****