(no subject)
TITLE: In The Shadows
RATING: R for vampiric nastiness
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Matthias is brought to the castle.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Over Troubled Waters, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall, Will Set You Free, Contact, Vampires on a Plane, Age of Innocence then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Herbert/Spike, Dawn/Von Krolock, Buffy/Vittorio, Herbert/Matthias, Von Krolock/Matthias.
WORDS: 11854
NOTES: Yes, there has been a bit of a delay on this chapter, but I think that working like a fiend, re-nerolling in college and generally being busy as frick is excuse enough, eh?
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Pulling over for the fifth time, Spike was halfway out of the car by the time Matthias managed to struggle free of the seat belt. The boy was clawing at the door and Spike pulled it open quickly, letting the boy fall onto the ground, retching pathetically.
By the harsh yellow beam of one of the roadside lights, Matthias hunched over the gutter, his shoulders heaving. For the fifth time in as many miles, the journey had got to the boy. Though he hardly seemed to eat, his stomach managed to dredge up the very dregs, which splattered wetly on the ground.
“Easy,” the vampire muttered, squatting down and drawing Matthias’s hair back to stop it trailing in the gutter. He heard the boy whimper and shifted to let his shadow obscure the boy’s face. “You all right?”
Watery brown eyes lifted to him and Matthias slowly nodded. A thin hand rose to wipe his mouth, his fingers trembling. “Don’t like it,” he whispered weakly.
“Didn’t think you would after all this, kiddo,” Spike said, helping the boy back to his shaking legs. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” The sound Matthias uttered was wretched. “How about you try and sleep, eh? Might help.”
Reluctantly, Matthias let himself be steered back to the car. He waited as Spike opened the back door and tossed several folders into the front seat, pulling one of Herbert’s cashmere blankets out from under the passenger seat.
“C’mon,” he said with a nod towards the seat. “Lie down and try and sleep.” The boy gingerly edged past him. “Don’t think you’ve got anything left to bring up out of that skinny little belly of yours anyway.”
He watched the boy twist himself into as tight a knot as possible behind the driver’s seat, a thin hand pulling the blanket around him like a shield. Squeezing his eyes shut, as if to close out the world, Matthias was visibly trembling.
Spike sighed, closing the door.
It had been a long half hour drive to the airport, then the flight had been almost as rough. The terrified teenager had clearly not been out of the club in the ten years since Herbert had taken him in, and travel had not been a big part of his early years. He had spent the first car journey being violently sick, then the flight pinned back in the seat, shaking with fear.
Seemed that nothing Spike could say could calm him down either.
It wasn’t that the boy had actually even looked scared. He had looked as passive as he always did, but the scent of terror had been rolling off him in waves. Only his shaking hands had given him away, and when the plane had landed, the boy had run out of the vessel as fast as he could.
Now, on the last section of the journey, with another hour before they reached the castle, Spike was wondering if the boy would even be able to stand up by the time they got there.
He climbed back into the driver’s seat.
“You all right back there?”
Matthias made a weak sound of acknowledgement.
Shaking his head, Spike started the engine up again and steered them back onto the road and towards the more open countryside.
8.8.8.8.8.8.8
Sifting through the lists that Herbert had laid before him, Johannes glanced up at his son, who was pacing back and forth before the mantle. He was writing on a clipboard that was gripped in one hand, and had a mobile telephone pressed between his ear and shoulder.
“No, darling, I don’t care if you have three weddings and some celebrity... thing before then, I want your full and undivided attention!” Apparently whoever was on the other end of the line said something negative. Herbert’s expression went stony. “Darling, do try and remember who you are talking to.”
There was urgent mumbling, wild and frantic, and von Krolock watched his son’s lips pursing in irritation.
Rising from his chair, the Graf approached one of the windows, looking out at the grounds. He had promised his son his aid in arranging a Ball, but he had not agreed to be the one to call one of the most exclusive decorators in Europe. It seemed that the man’s talents were not as readily procured as his son had expected.
“Well, how many of those absolutely delightful individuals would be more forgiving than me, darling?” The sharpness in Herbert’s tone was unmistakable. “I think you find they all would. And even those that wouldn’t... well, they’re only human. Aren’t they?”
Watching a car pull through the gates, the Graf turned back to his son, approaching silently as the individual on the other end of the line gabbled wildly. Reaching out, he plucked the telephone from his son’s hand, lifting it between forefinger and thumb to his own ear.
“Silence,” he murmured. Herbert spun around, eyes flashing, but von Krolock raised his hand, indicating for his son to obey the command as well. “You will tend to my son’s wishes and you will be rewarded for your time and any inconvenience you may be put to.”
“M-Milord Excellency?” the unfortunate man stammered.
“Indeed,” Johannes murmured. “I shall speak to you of terms later. For now, I would suggest that you find some way to better arrange your time. We shall contact you within two days.”
Ignoring the babbling gratitude and platitudes, von Krolock lowered the telephone, closing it with the tip of the index finger of his other hand. He replaced it in his son’s hand, and saw the brief, petulant scowl that tripped across his son’s lips.
“I could have arranged it,” he muttered.
The Graf smiled. “I have no doubt you could have, Kleines,” he murmured. “But as William just entered the grounds, I thought you might wish to take a little time from these arrangements to see him.”
He would have had to have been blind to miss the sudden brightening in his son’s countenance. The telephone disappeared into some capacious pocket and he felt a kiss pressed to his cheek before Herbert raced from the room.
Following at a more leisurely pace, he was still half a hall away when he heard the ancient creak of the hinges of the main doors. There was a startled, indrawn breath, which made the Graf hesitate. He reached out with his senses, felt the flutter of an unfamiliar heartbeat and confusion and anger rising in his son.
Quickening his pace, he emerged onto the landing to see Herbert standing halfway down the stairs. He was staring down at William and a slight figure that was shivering beside him. William’s arm was around the stranger’s thin shoulders, but the youth was stretching out a hand to Herbert, as if in supplication.
“What did you think you were doing, William?” Herbert’s voice was quiet and ice-hard. The young stranger shied back, pulling his hand against his chest, pressing closer to William.
“Had to get him out of there,” William replied quietly. There was a tremor in his voice though, as if he were trying not to say something. “Herbie, the boy’s messed up. He couldn’t stay there.”
With formidable calm, Herbert walked down the steps, his hands curling loosely by his sides. “Go to our room, William,” he said, without a second look at the younger vampire, his attention fixed on the boy. “Now.”
“What am I?” William demanded sharply. “Twelve?”
Herbert glanced at him.
Apparently, the look in Herbert’s eyes was enough to dissuade further argument.
Loosing his arm from the young mortal’s shoulders, William cautiously skirted around Herbert and hastened up the stairs. When he passed the Graf, the look on his face was a combination of wariness, consternation, hurt and exhaustion.
Letting him go, Johannes watched as Herbert gently took the young mortal by the shoulders, straightening him, bettering his posture. He fussed over the young man’s long hair, smoothing his clothing, then sighed. “I am afraid William has forced my hand.”
Descending the rest of the staircase, Johannes approached his son. “This boy is one of yours, then?” he murmured, as his son stepped aside to let him see the enigmatic little figure.
Whoever he was, the boy looked wretchedly ill. From the scent of sickness hovering about him, he had not been born for travel. His face - what could be seen of it - was white as a sheet behind a half-veil of black hair, and he was shivering from more than simply fear.
His visible eye was cast down, though his posture was perfect. A submissive little marionette, he allowed Herbert to direct him to raise his chin, presenting him to von Krolock as a prized pet.
“I had hoped I would have longer to prepare him for meeting you, Vati,” Herbert said with another sigh. He did not seem to heed the sudden flare of panic that radiated from the boy, though the youth’s expression revealed nothing.
Arching a brow, Johannes glanced at his son. “Indeed.”
Stepping back fully, leaving the boy bared to his father’s scrutiny, Herbert smiled thinly. “Father, this is Matthias,” he said softly. “Matthias, raise your eyes. My father wishes to look upon you.”
It did not go wholly unnoticed that the boy seemed to mentally recoil each time Herbert said the word ‘father’ and more especially when he used the term ‘Vati’, something von Krolock made a note to focus on when reading the boy.
It was clear that the child had been in his son’s care for some time, his posture and passiveness a testament to Herbert’s attentions. Though he was afraid, he did not openly display it, his half-hidden features calm. His dark eye obediently rose, timidly looking at the Graf, then sank again to the floor.
Intrigued, von Krolock raised his right hand, bring it up to tilt the boy’s chin. The visible eye remained humbly lowered until he slid his finger along beneath the boy’s jaw and started to draw his hair aside. The blaze of anguish and dismay was palpable in the tension suddenly radiating through the boy’s slight body.
To his left, the Graf could sense his son’s nervousness on behalf of this mortal child with his exquisite manners, his delicate features, and the secrets hidden in his eyes and his half-concealed face.
With a gentleness that made the boy tremble all the more, he drew aside the veil of wavy, silken hair. The child’s breaths shivered against the back of his wrist, and he felt the frightened eyes fasten onto his face in terror as the boy was revealed fully for the first time.
Pushing the heavy mantle of the boy’s hair back over his shoulder, von Krolock drew his knuckles lightly against the boy’s marred face, wondering at the agony etched in ever ragged scar, so different to his perfect left side.
His eyes slid to the boy’s, snaring them easily and he felt the mental and physical flinch. The boy gasped aloud, but the Graf looked beyond the terrified eyes and the wall of bald anguish, drinking in the boy’s essence as he would a mortal’s blood.
Drawing and exhaling a breath of undeniable satisfaction, he let his head fall back as he drew his fingers down the boy’s skin, closing his eyes and surrounding himself in the memories and sensations of another’s life. And what a life the child had suffered, agony and despair in its purest form. Beautiful in its intensity.
“Exquisite,” he murmured, slanting a look towards Herbert.
His son inclined his head with a small smile. “I hoped you would think so, Vati,” he murmured, only then reaching out and drawing the boy’s hair forward again, allowing the shaking child to cover himself.
Von Krolock stepped back from the boy. “He is to remain, I expect,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the boy as the child lifted a thin hand as inconspicuously as he could to adjust his hair.
“If you do not object, I think he could be an interesting addition to the household.”
Tilting the boy’s chin up with a fingertip, the Graf felt the fresh ebb of fear. With a smile, he lowered his head and kissed the boy’s lips. The boy shivered like a plucked violin string.
“I agree,” von Krolock murmured, sliding his hand down the boy’s slim throat, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse. He slowly pressed his fingers about the slender neck, and even when his breath was partly stifled, the boy did not fight. Perfectly and utterly obedient, captivating in his servility.
Whirling away sharply, von Krolock only hesitated to glance at his son, reaching out to drag his knuckles against Herbert’s cheek. His son’s eyes gleamed and he nodded. Von Krolock’s hands shivered, but he forced himself to walk away from the child in his son’s protection, pausing halfway up the stairs. He looked over his shoulder to see Herbert gathering the boy in his arms and kissing his pale forehead.
“Have him put somewhere quiet,” he said pointedly. “Somewhere... private.”
He saw his son’s smile and knew that Herbert understood.
8.8.8.8.8.8
William was in disgrace.
Herbert had made sure he knew it as well.
After placing Matthias in new quarters, he had returned to the rooms he shared with his lover. William had been slouched in a chair, sullenly glaring at him, but Herbert had not even acknowledged him.
Instead, he had walked straight to the wardrobe. Opening the doors he had selected some of his lesser worn clothes that Matthias might wear something more fitting than his present casual clothing.
Then he had strode from the room, pulling the door shut and locking it with a click that resounded in the stillness.
For a moment he had waited, watching the handle twist as William had tried to open the door from within. He had heard the petulant kick of a booted foot against the wood, the curses audible even through the thick panel.
Glaring at the door for a moment longer, he had turned his back and walked away.
Unlike foolish William, Matthias had remained exactly where he was told to. He had been placed in one of the smallest rooms in the castle, a bare-walled simple chamber with a low cot and a single window high in the wall. In truth, it looked more of a cell than a chamber, but Matthias would not complain. He never complained.
Leaving the door open, Herbert approached the boy, who looked up at him.
“Change out of those vile rags, my darling,” Herbert said, extending the bundle of clothing. It would hang on the boy’s slighter frame, but better to have him dressed appropriately for his father’s company.
Matthias rose to his bare feet and lowered his head as he disrobed. His dark hair fell in swathes over his shoulders, hiding most of his body to his waist, though not from shyness of his nudity.
“Chin up,” Herbert murmured. Matthias’ eyes flicked up and he obeyed, extending his arms as Herbert drew the shirt over his hands. “I must say I am terribly proud of you, darling. Father was quite captivated.”
With his hair pushed back over his shoulders, Matthias’ tremulous smile was visible, though Herbert could tell that it wasn’t entirely genuine. The little dear was clearly petrified of the Graf, but then, what child wouldn’t be? And that only made him all the more delightful to von Krolock, Herbert knew.
Lowering his head to kiss the boy’s mouth, Herbert smiled. “I was worried that you would not behave, you see,” he said gravely, watching the dark brown eyes. “But you were absolutely perfect.”
“Th-thank you, Herr Herbert,” Matthias whispered.
Ignoring him, Herbert sighed. “Although William...” He turned and walked idly back and forth across the floor as Matthias continued to dress, his thin hands lost in the oversized sleeves of Herbert’s shirt. “What could have possessed him?”
Matthias made no reply, fumbling with the elaborate buttons until Herbert made an impatient sound and stalked back towards him, grasping his wrist. Rolling the sleeves up several inches, he gave the youth an affectionate half-smile that faded when a familiar scent reached him.
Looking down at Matthias’ naked palm, he frowned, lifting the hand to his face. On the unmarked skin of the boy’s fingers, he could smell William. Not simply William’s scent, but the scent of blood.
Herbert’s fingers closed sharply around Matthias’ hand, his eyes darkening. “What have you done to William?” he hissed, his other hand grabbing a handful of Matthias’ hair and pulling his head back.
Matthias shook his head wildly, his eyes brightening with pain as Herbert’s fingers contracted mercilessly around his. His lips trembled and breaths caught in his chest, making him shudder violently. Tears were filming his eyes, and Herbert knew only a little more pressure would crush the bones. He tightened his hand a fraction.
“What have you done to William?” he repeated, his voice hard as diamond. “His blood is on your hands, Matthias. Do not lie to me.”
“A-a-a man,” Matthias sobbed out. “He hurt William!” He was rigid, shaking, his shoulders locked, tears streaking his cheeks. “I-I... h-he hurt William...” Herbert stared at him, releasing him. Matthias pulled his hands back, staggering back a step. “W-William said I had to come... I stopped the man hurting William again... William said I could come...”
“You stopped the man from hurting William again?” Herbert echoed quietly, starting to understand. Matthias nodded. “And he fell down?” Matthias nodded once more, dragging a trembling hand across his tear-sheened cheek. “Was there blood?”
“H-he hurt William,” Matthias whispered. “I-I... I did not mean to disobey...”
“Was there blood?” Herbert repeated, his voice little more than a growl. “Was the man moving?”
Trembling, Matthias shook his head. “He lay down,” he whispered, shying back. “There was blood. He was like Vati.”
Herbert closed his eyes, comprehending. “You disobeyed,” he said quietly. “I told you not to do such things.” His eyes slowly opened. “I am angry with you, little one. Stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Matthias stumbled back a pace, sinking to sit on the cot. He bowed his head, his hair falling in curtains around his face, his arms wrapping around his body as he continued to shiver in misery.
Striding from the room, leaving the door wide open, the long hall full of stretching shadows, Herbert put thoughts of the boy’s punishment aside. He had placed the boy perfectly in the labyrinth of castle rooms and knew he would not have to lift a hand. Another had already chosen that privilege.
Instead, it seemed he had amends to make.
Returning to his own chambers, he unlocked the door and strode into the room. By the window, William was once more sprawled in the chair. He had his spectacles on and was reading, not even deigning to grant Herbert a look of acknowledgement.
“William, are you all right?”
On the cover of the book, fingers moved, leaving a solitary one directed at Herbert.
“Now, darling, that’s just crass.”
Behind the book, William snorted. “Fuck you.”
Herbert stalked across the room and tugged the book from William’s hands. “I asked you a question, William,” he said, his other hand snatching William’s chin and tilting his head up, seeking some unseen injury. “Are you all right?”
Slapping Herbert’s hand away, William rose from the chair. “Didn’t bother to ask that before did you?” he snapped, his lip curling derisively. “D’you think I’d drag that little bugger all the way here if there wasn’t a bloody good reason?”
Now that William was upright, the light glinted on spots of blood in his hair, and Herbert reached out to touch it.
“Piss off!” William struck his hand away again. “I don’t need you babying me, you arse.”
“You’re hurt...” What anger he had felt towards his lover had faded in the face of concern, though it looked like only a minor wound.
William’s expression was hard. “Thank you for noticing,” he spat. “And here’s a little something I noticed: your boy is a complete bloody psycho.” As he stepped closer, William’s voice was low. “You want to tell me why the hell that brat of yours thinks its all right to knife people in the back? Or was that something you were going to save for after-dinner conversation?”
“Always in the back...” Herbert murmured to himself, then looked at William, who was staring coldly at him. “Oh, don’t worry, my darling.” His smile was far from mirthful. “I did nothing to encourage him. He became a psycho, as you call him, all thanks to his dear and gentle mortal Vati.”
“Yeah right...” William snorted.
Herbert snared William’s arm, his voice quiet. “I am serious, William,” he said, taking advantage of William’s startled look to draw him closer. “His father was a violent, merciless bastard. What Matthias does, he learned from that man.”
“He’s just a kid...” William protested.
Herbert gazed at him, then gently steered William back to sit and knelt in front of him, tilting William’s head that he might examine the wound. William muttered an obscenity, but fought no more.
“He was a child when I found him, William,” Herbert finally said quietly. “But he already had killed, more than once. He does not understand that it is not normal for one of his age. He does not even comprehend death. To him, the one he killed for you was only lying down and rendered harmless.” Grey eyes found blue. “Do you think any worse of him now?”
William stared at him in disbelief. “He doesn’t have a clue what he did, does he?”
“Only that he stopped your assailant from harming you again,” Herbert murmured, liberating several fragments of glass from William’s hair. He unbound the ponytail and combed his fingers through the loose strands, several more shards falling free. He hesitated, then looked up at William. “Would it have made it easier to feed from him, had you known he had the blood of others on his hands?”
William looked genuinely perplexed by that thought. “Hadn’t thought about it,” he muttered. “Seemed like such a nice kid...”
Herbert rose on his knees to kiss his lover on the forehead. “He is a charming boy, William,” he said softly. “That he kills without regard or guilt... it only makes him more interesting, don’t you think?”
William made no reply for several moments. “You still pissed off that I brought him back with me?” he finally asked quietly.
“I had hoped to have longer to ready him for father,” Herbert replied, picking a dry bead of blood from William’s hair. “But I fear leaving him there would have caused too many problems for dear Fridi...”
“Ready him for your dad?” Blue eyes looked doubtfully at him.
Herbert nodded. “I always intended that he would be something of a gift for Vati,” he said softly. “He has always had a great appreciation for things that are both broken and beautiful.”
“And I bet you don’t get much more broken than the brat...”
“Indeed you do not,” Herbert agreed. He lifted William’s chin with a fingertip and kissed his lips lightly. “Forgive me for my temper, darling. I should have thanked you for your quick thinking.”
William’s smile was crooked. “Let’s call it the element of surprise,” he offered, looking more than a little bashful at the compliment. “I’ll try not to do it again.”
Herbert laughed quietly. “Oh, darling, what would I do without you?”
“Have a quieter life, I think,” William replied with a faint smile. “Stupid sod.”
8.8.8.8.8.8
Curled up in one of the biggest chairs in the biggest living room, Dawn made a face at the computer screen. Though she had no webcam, the person she was chatting with did, and clearly knew her well enough to guess her expression.
Pursing his lips, Herbert pouted at her in the tiny screen. The message that appeared in their chat window chastised her for no doubt crumpling her face to resemble a cat’s backside.
“What’s funny?” Buffy asked. She was sprawled on one of the couches several feet away, her legs draped over Vittorio’s lap. He was flicking through dozens of options for invitations that Buffy had selected.
“He’s being an ass,” Dawn replied, looking up from the screen.
“You say this like it’s a big surprise,” Buffy observed, grinning.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t think he was way old,” she said, pausing to type a smartmouth response to her lover’s son. “He still thinks sticking his tongue out is mature.”
“Tell him I say ‘hi’,” her sister said, leaning back against the arm of the couch and closing her eyes. “Oh, and if he comes to the wedding, he’s gonna have to behave or I am totally staking him.”
Relaying the message on, Dawn saw the surprise in Herbert’s face. “Y’know, I don’t think he was expecting an invitation,” she observed, looking at Buffy. “And now that you’ve told him to behave, you know he totally won’t.”
Cracking one eye open, Buffy grinned slowly. “You did tell him the condition of his coming, right? Behave or dustiness ensues?”
Dawn hastily typed that addition. “He... uh... he says...” On the webcam, Herbert was smiling smugly. Pointing at himself, he mouthed ‘I won’ at her, and that wasn’t quite what Dawn wanted to relay to her sister. “I’ll talk to him, k?”
“You are sure that you wish them to come, mi amore?” Vittorio raised his eyes from the pile of documents in front of him. Dawn sympathetically noticed he was looking more than a little bit panicked at the sheer quantity of wedding material that Buffy had gathered within a couple of weeks.
“Can’t say no to my baby sister’s boytoy and her step-son, can I?” Buffy replied with a smile. “Anyway, it’s not just your ex. It’s my ex too. I think we’re even, unless you decide to run off with Herbert...”
Vittorio looked so horrified that Dawn burst out laughing.
“If it helps any,” she said with a grin. “He won’t be at the actual ceremony thing. I think it would kinda distract people from how white and creampuffy Buffy’s dress is if the congregation started going flaming-torch on them.”
“Creampuffy?” Vittorio echoed, looking from Dawn to Buffy.
“Or slinky,” Dawn added. “She hasn’t chosen yet. We booked the store for looking some more tomorrow.”
“And we’re going to hit Milan next week...”
“Milan?”
Buffy nodded, beaming. “I heard there’s a really neat wedding store there.”
“Mia bella, we have seven months. Must this all be done at once?” Vittorio looked between the sisters and Dawn saw the panic turn to full-blown terror. “Surely, it will not take so long...”
Dawn’s lips were twitching. “How about I take Herbert away and leave you to discuss stuff, huh?” she offered, unfolding from the chair. She was halfway to the door, when she glanced back and added, “And Buffy, don’t forget you said you’d show him the cake choices...”
“...cake choices also...?” Vittorio sounded more like a startled schoolboy than a four and a half centuries old Immortal. “Mia bella...”
“Oh! And the guest lists have been changed again!”
“Again?”
Dawn snickered as she pulled the door closed and hurried towards one of the other living rooms to continue her conversation with Herbert. There were several impatient messages waiting in the window and the vampire was scowling at the webcam when she flipped the laptop open again.
Typing a quick explanation, she saw Herbert grinning at the thought of Vittorio suffering at the hands of his overeager Californian bride-to-be, and she waited just long enough before asking what kind of trouble they should plan for the wedding.
Herbert feigned horror at such a thought and claimed his intended to behave.
Dawn laughed and agreed that he probably would behave, but it would be badly, to which the vampire had shrugged helplessly as if he were no more to blame for that than the sun was for rising.
Challenging him to deny that he already had something in mind, she was greeted by an incongruously innocent expression on Herbert’s face, complete with palms pressed together before his chest, his eyes raised angelically to the heavens.
She informed him that he wasn’t fooling anyone and he laughed, telling her she had to stop lurking with her silly Slayer sister and come home, so he could spank her for her insolence.
Dawn smiled at that, knowing that he missed her. For him to miss a girl was a big thing and both of them knew it, so - being the loving soul she was - she promptly screamed heterosexuality at him.
Herbert burst out laughing, though he said he was offended. He also informed her that he only wished her to return because his father was brooding unbearably and it made the castle smell funny.
Checking the date, Dawn smiled. She told him that she would be returning in a fortnight and that she would be sure to bring her girlie stink back with her, as well as several more cases of clothing, if he sent the plane to pick her up.
Outraged at the thought of girlie-stink on his plane, he protested and it was accompanied by much face-making through the camera. Her response was distracted by something in the background, beyond the vampire.
“Uh...”
Apparently, there was a naked Spike in the room with Herbert.
A naked Spike with his very naked little Spike.
Or not so little as the case seemed to be.
Standing behind Herbert, Spike wrapped his hand around Herbert’s throat and slid his fingers up under his lover’s jaw, tilting his head back to kiss him. When the kiss was deepened and Herbert started to push off his own shirt, pulling Spike down towards him, Dawn hastily tried to shut down the webcam and chat window.
It popped up again.
Herbert threw a wicked smile at her through the camera, then pulled Spike’s mouth down on his.
With a squeak, Dawn covered her eyes with her hand and hastily started to shut the machine down to avoid further nudity. Of course, she had to peek between her fingers to check it had gone away and squeal even more indignantly when it was still there.
But she finally managed to switch the machine off.
Yeah, it took about ten minutes, but that was totally not her fault.
8.8.8.8.8.8
The room was dark.
Wrapped in the thin blanket and sitting in the middle of the hard floor, Matthias stared at the narrow line of light that shone beneath the door.
He always had the door closed at night time. When the door was closed, it meant you would see if someone came in. That was how he had always known when Vati was close. The handle had moved and his Vati would be a black shape in the doorway and then the light would go on and he would hurt.
That was the way it was meant to be.
His fingers clutched at the blanket and he watched the light. It didn’t change. Not here. The door never opened when it was meant to. No one came in through it. They came in. But they never opened the door.
Fingers dragged his hair aside from his cheek, nails raking over his scarred cheek.
They were behind him already.
Matthias trembled, staring at the bar of light.
The hand was laid on his shoulder. Another hand touched his other shoulder. The blanket that covered him was pulled away. Matthias breathed in. His breath shook and he tried to stop it.
Fingers dragged through his hair. It was almost like they were brushing his hair, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He pressed his fists together in front of his chest. It felt like something was squeezing inside it.
Through his hair, the nails dragged down his back. He felt them catch on the twisted knots of skin on his right side. Biting on his lower lip, he tried not to make a noise. He could taste blood already and his lip shivered between his teeth.
He felt the cool mouth touch his bare shoulder. The tongue licked his scars and he stared harder at the light, not blinking. The line of white blurred, swirling, and he felt a dribbling tear run down his cheek.
There was a quiet laugh. The tear was licked up and Matthias felt the hand in his hair twist. He couldn’t stop his mouth opening or stop the little breath from jumping out. His head was pulled back and he whimpered.
A second hand covered his mouth and nose and he almost cried out aloud.
The mouth on his skin opened and he felt sharp teeth underneath his ear. Only Herr Herbert and William had used their teeth on him before, and when they bit him, it was nice. These teeth were different. They scraped. They scratched. They hurt.
But they never ever bit.
His Excellency didn’t like him. His Excellency didn’t bite him.
He just whispered to Matthias, touched him, and made him remember where all the marks on his skin came from. He made him shake with terror and hurt and made him want to hide. He made him feel like nothing, made him scratch at his scarred face until he bled.
Matthias felt more tears on his face. They felt so hot and his Excellency’s hands were so cold. He wanted to grab his scarred face and tear it off and throw it away and hide from his Excellency and from the things he could remember.
He could remember when he became ugly. His Excellency whispered of it, even when he dreamed, and he remembered it. He remembered Vati, he remembered the pot, the water. He remembered pain and shouting and his Excellency dragged it out of him again and again, making him shake until he wanted to scream.
But he didn’t scream.
He wouldn’t.
He hadn’t for a long, long time.
If you screamed, things only got worse.
His Excellency’s voice should have been nice. It sounded like it should be kind like Fraulein Fridi, but it wasn’t. It felt like it was under his skin, burning him, like a hot knife. It was invisible, but it felt like it was leaving marks every time he whispered against Matthias’ skin.
The cold hands covered his and Matthias pressed his lips together. He tried to stop his breathing from getting as fast as the beating inside his chest. His Excellency’s hair was soft on the scars and his teeth were hard. Matthias could smell blood. It tickled on his chest, running down.
His Excellency whispered against his throat. The door swung inwards, flooding the room with light. Matthias jerked back hard. The hands on his wrists tightened, but Matthias didn’t care. The light was on his face, on his bare body, showing him, no where to hide, no way to cover himself.
Struggling against his Excellency, Matthias lunged forward. His shoulders hurt a lot. He didn’t care. His nails were scratching his palms. Struggling and thrashing, he felt his arm twisted. He was forced around to face his Excellency and hissed, shaking his head until his hair fell over his face.
The growl almost made him stop fighting. His Excellency’s hand twisted and Matthias’ body hit the floor heavily. He whimpered, dazed, and saw the hand move, felt his hair dragged away.
A scream rose in his throat and he tried to twist away, tried to hide a little of himself, of the marks, of the pain, of the memories. His Excellency laughed, touching each one, making him remember, making him scream again and again, until he could scream no more, until his mouth tasted of blood.
His Excellency put a hand on his chest, held him down, and he didn’t fight, didn’t care any more. Tears were hot on his skin. He felt the cold mouth on his. He felt the hands moving. He closed his eyes, but he still saw and still remembered and he felt his Excellency smiling against his mouth as he started to sob.
_________________
Part 2
RATING: R for vampiric nastiness
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Matthias is brought to the castle.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Over Troubled Waters, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall, Will Set You Free, Contact, Vampires on a Plane, Age of Innocence then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Herbert/Spike, Dawn/Von Krolock, Buffy/Vittorio, Herbert/Matthias, Von Krolock/Matthias.
WORDS: 11854
NOTES: Yes, there has been a bit of a delay on this chapter, but I think that working like a fiend, re-nerolling in college and generally being busy as frick is excuse enough, eh?
__________________________________
Pulling over for the fifth time, Spike was halfway out of the car by the time Matthias managed to struggle free of the seat belt. The boy was clawing at the door and Spike pulled it open quickly, letting the boy fall onto the ground, retching pathetically.
By the harsh yellow beam of one of the roadside lights, Matthias hunched over the gutter, his shoulders heaving. For the fifth time in as many miles, the journey had got to the boy. Though he hardly seemed to eat, his stomach managed to dredge up the very dregs, which splattered wetly on the ground.
“Easy,” the vampire muttered, squatting down and drawing Matthias’s hair back to stop it trailing in the gutter. He heard the boy whimper and shifted to let his shadow obscure the boy’s face. “You all right?”
Watery brown eyes lifted to him and Matthias slowly nodded. A thin hand rose to wipe his mouth, his fingers trembling. “Don’t like it,” he whispered weakly.
“Didn’t think you would after all this, kiddo,” Spike said, helping the boy back to his shaking legs. “Don’t worry. You’ll get used to it.” The sound Matthias uttered was wretched. “How about you try and sleep, eh? Might help.”
Reluctantly, Matthias let himself be steered back to the car. He waited as Spike opened the back door and tossed several folders into the front seat, pulling one of Herbert’s cashmere blankets out from under the passenger seat.
“C’mon,” he said with a nod towards the seat. “Lie down and try and sleep.” The boy gingerly edged past him. “Don’t think you’ve got anything left to bring up out of that skinny little belly of yours anyway.”
He watched the boy twist himself into as tight a knot as possible behind the driver’s seat, a thin hand pulling the blanket around him like a shield. Squeezing his eyes shut, as if to close out the world, Matthias was visibly trembling.
Spike sighed, closing the door.
It had been a long half hour drive to the airport, then the flight had been almost as rough. The terrified teenager had clearly not been out of the club in the ten years since Herbert had taken him in, and travel had not been a big part of his early years. He had spent the first car journey being violently sick, then the flight pinned back in the seat, shaking with fear.
Seemed that nothing Spike could say could calm him down either.
It wasn’t that the boy had actually even looked scared. He had looked as passive as he always did, but the scent of terror had been rolling off him in waves. Only his shaking hands had given him away, and when the plane had landed, the boy had run out of the vessel as fast as he could.
Now, on the last section of the journey, with another hour before they reached the castle, Spike was wondering if the boy would even be able to stand up by the time they got there.
He climbed back into the driver’s seat.
“You all right back there?”
Matthias made a weak sound of acknowledgement.
Shaking his head, Spike started the engine up again and steered them back onto the road and towards the more open countryside.
8.8.8.8.8.8.8
Sifting through the lists that Herbert had laid before him, Johannes glanced up at his son, who was pacing back and forth before the mantle. He was writing on a clipboard that was gripped in one hand, and had a mobile telephone pressed between his ear and shoulder.
“No, darling, I don’t care if you have three weddings and some celebrity... thing before then, I want your full and undivided attention!” Apparently whoever was on the other end of the line said something negative. Herbert’s expression went stony. “Darling, do try and remember who you are talking to.”
There was urgent mumbling, wild and frantic, and von Krolock watched his son’s lips pursing in irritation.
Rising from his chair, the Graf approached one of the windows, looking out at the grounds. He had promised his son his aid in arranging a Ball, but he had not agreed to be the one to call one of the most exclusive decorators in Europe. It seemed that the man’s talents were not as readily procured as his son had expected.
“Well, how many of those absolutely delightful individuals would be more forgiving than me, darling?” The sharpness in Herbert’s tone was unmistakable. “I think you find they all would. And even those that wouldn’t... well, they’re only human. Aren’t they?”
Watching a car pull through the gates, the Graf turned back to his son, approaching silently as the individual on the other end of the line gabbled wildly. Reaching out, he plucked the telephone from his son’s hand, lifting it between forefinger and thumb to his own ear.
“Silence,” he murmured. Herbert spun around, eyes flashing, but von Krolock raised his hand, indicating for his son to obey the command as well. “You will tend to my son’s wishes and you will be rewarded for your time and any inconvenience you may be put to.”
“M-Milord Excellency?” the unfortunate man stammered.
“Indeed,” Johannes murmured. “I shall speak to you of terms later. For now, I would suggest that you find some way to better arrange your time. We shall contact you within two days.”
Ignoring the babbling gratitude and platitudes, von Krolock lowered the telephone, closing it with the tip of the index finger of his other hand. He replaced it in his son’s hand, and saw the brief, petulant scowl that tripped across his son’s lips.
“I could have arranged it,” he muttered.
The Graf smiled. “I have no doubt you could have, Kleines,” he murmured. “But as William just entered the grounds, I thought you might wish to take a little time from these arrangements to see him.”
He would have had to have been blind to miss the sudden brightening in his son’s countenance. The telephone disappeared into some capacious pocket and he felt a kiss pressed to his cheek before Herbert raced from the room.
Following at a more leisurely pace, he was still half a hall away when he heard the ancient creak of the hinges of the main doors. There was a startled, indrawn breath, which made the Graf hesitate. He reached out with his senses, felt the flutter of an unfamiliar heartbeat and confusion and anger rising in his son.
Quickening his pace, he emerged onto the landing to see Herbert standing halfway down the stairs. He was staring down at William and a slight figure that was shivering beside him. William’s arm was around the stranger’s thin shoulders, but the youth was stretching out a hand to Herbert, as if in supplication.
“What did you think you were doing, William?” Herbert’s voice was quiet and ice-hard. The young stranger shied back, pulling his hand against his chest, pressing closer to William.
“Had to get him out of there,” William replied quietly. There was a tremor in his voice though, as if he were trying not to say something. “Herbie, the boy’s messed up. He couldn’t stay there.”
With formidable calm, Herbert walked down the steps, his hands curling loosely by his sides. “Go to our room, William,” he said, without a second look at the younger vampire, his attention fixed on the boy. “Now.”
“What am I?” William demanded sharply. “Twelve?”
Herbert glanced at him.
Apparently, the look in Herbert’s eyes was enough to dissuade further argument.
Loosing his arm from the young mortal’s shoulders, William cautiously skirted around Herbert and hastened up the stairs. When he passed the Graf, the look on his face was a combination of wariness, consternation, hurt and exhaustion.
Letting him go, Johannes watched as Herbert gently took the young mortal by the shoulders, straightening him, bettering his posture. He fussed over the young man’s long hair, smoothing his clothing, then sighed. “I am afraid William has forced my hand.”
Descending the rest of the staircase, Johannes approached his son. “This boy is one of yours, then?” he murmured, as his son stepped aside to let him see the enigmatic little figure.
Whoever he was, the boy looked wretchedly ill. From the scent of sickness hovering about him, he had not been born for travel. His face - what could be seen of it - was white as a sheet behind a half-veil of black hair, and he was shivering from more than simply fear.
His visible eye was cast down, though his posture was perfect. A submissive little marionette, he allowed Herbert to direct him to raise his chin, presenting him to von Krolock as a prized pet.
“I had hoped I would have longer to prepare him for meeting you, Vati,” Herbert said with another sigh. He did not seem to heed the sudden flare of panic that radiated from the boy, though the youth’s expression revealed nothing.
Arching a brow, Johannes glanced at his son. “Indeed.”
Stepping back fully, leaving the boy bared to his father’s scrutiny, Herbert smiled thinly. “Father, this is Matthias,” he said softly. “Matthias, raise your eyes. My father wishes to look upon you.”
It did not go wholly unnoticed that the boy seemed to mentally recoil each time Herbert said the word ‘father’ and more especially when he used the term ‘Vati’, something von Krolock made a note to focus on when reading the boy.
It was clear that the child had been in his son’s care for some time, his posture and passiveness a testament to Herbert’s attentions. Though he was afraid, he did not openly display it, his half-hidden features calm. His dark eye obediently rose, timidly looking at the Graf, then sank again to the floor.
Intrigued, von Krolock raised his right hand, bring it up to tilt the boy’s chin. The visible eye remained humbly lowered until he slid his finger along beneath the boy’s jaw and started to draw his hair aside. The blaze of anguish and dismay was palpable in the tension suddenly radiating through the boy’s slight body.
To his left, the Graf could sense his son’s nervousness on behalf of this mortal child with his exquisite manners, his delicate features, and the secrets hidden in his eyes and his half-concealed face.
With a gentleness that made the boy tremble all the more, he drew aside the veil of wavy, silken hair. The child’s breaths shivered against the back of his wrist, and he felt the frightened eyes fasten onto his face in terror as the boy was revealed fully for the first time.
Pushing the heavy mantle of the boy’s hair back over his shoulder, von Krolock drew his knuckles lightly against the boy’s marred face, wondering at the agony etched in ever ragged scar, so different to his perfect left side.
His eyes slid to the boy’s, snaring them easily and he felt the mental and physical flinch. The boy gasped aloud, but the Graf looked beyond the terrified eyes and the wall of bald anguish, drinking in the boy’s essence as he would a mortal’s blood.
Drawing and exhaling a breath of undeniable satisfaction, he let his head fall back as he drew his fingers down the boy’s skin, closing his eyes and surrounding himself in the memories and sensations of another’s life. And what a life the child had suffered, agony and despair in its purest form. Beautiful in its intensity.
“Exquisite,” he murmured, slanting a look towards Herbert.
His son inclined his head with a small smile. “I hoped you would think so, Vati,” he murmured, only then reaching out and drawing the boy’s hair forward again, allowing the shaking child to cover himself.
Von Krolock stepped back from the boy. “He is to remain, I expect,” he murmured, his eyes lingering on the boy as the child lifted a thin hand as inconspicuously as he could to adjust his hair.
“If you do not object, I think he could be an interesting addition to the household.”
Tilting the boy’s chin up with a fingertip, the Graf felt the fresh ebb of fear. With a smile, he lowered his head and kissed the boy’s lips. The boy shivered like a plucked violin string.
“I agree,” von Krolock murmured, sliding his hand down the boy’s slim throat, feeling the rapid flutter of his pulse. He slowly pressed his fingers about the slender neck, and even when his breath was partly stifled, the boy did not fight. Perfectly and utterly obedient, captivating in his servility.
Whirling away sharply, von Krolock only hesitated to glance at his son, reaching out to drag his knuckles against Herbert’s cheek. His son’s eyes gleamed and he nodded. Von Krolock’s hands shivered, but he forced himself to walk away from the child in his son’s protection, pausing halfway up the stairs. He looked over his shoulder to see Herbert gathering the boy in his arms and kissing his pale forehead.
“Have him put somewhere quiet,” he said pointedly. “Somewhere... private.”
He saw his son’s smile and knew that Herbert understood.
8.8.8.8.8.8
William was in disgrace.
Herbert had made sure he knew it as well.
After placing Matthias in new quarters, he had returned to the rooms he shared with his lover. William had been slouched in a chair, sullenly glaring at him, but Herbert had not even acknowledged him.
Instead, he had walked straight to the wardrobe. Opening the doors he had selected some of his lesser worn clothes that Matthias might wear something more fitting than his present casual clothing.
Then he had strode from the room, pulling the door shut and locking it with a click that resounded in the stillness.
For a moment he had waited, watching the handle twist as William had tried to open the door from within. He had heard the petulant kick of a booted foot against the wood, the curses audible even through the thick panel.
Glaring at the door for a moment longer, he had turned his back and walked away.
Unlike foolish William, Matthias had remained exactly where he was told to. He had been placed in one of the smallest rooms in the castle, a bare-walled simple chamber with a low cot and a single window high in the wall. In truth, it looked more of a cell than a chamber, but Matthias would not complain. He never complained.
Leaving the door open, Herbert approached the boy, who looked up at him.
“Change out of those vile rags, my darling,” Herbert said, extending the bundle of clothing. It would hang on the boy’s slighter frame, but better to have him dressed appropriately for his father’s company.
Matthias rose to his bare feet and lowered his head as he disrobed. His dark hair fell in swathes over his shoulders, hiding most of his body to his waist, though not from shyness of his nudity.
“Chin up,” Herbert murmured. Matthias’ eyes flicked up and he obeyed, extending his arms as Herbert drew the shirt over his hands. “I must say I am terribly proud of you, darling. Father was quite captivated.”
With his hair pushed back over his shoulders, Matthias’ tremulous smile was visible, though Herbert could tell that it wasn’t entirely genuine. The little dear was clearly petrified of the Graf, but then, what child wouldn’t be? And that only made him all the more delightful to von Krolock, Herbert knew.
Lowering his head to kiss the boy’s mouth, Herbert smiled. “I was worried that you would not behave, you see,” he said gravely, watching the dark brown eyes. “But you were absolutely perfect.”
“Th-thank you, Herr Herbert,” Matthias whispered.
Ignoring him, Herbert sighed. “Although William...” He turned and walked idly back and forth across the floor as Matthias continued to dress, his thin hands lost in the oversized sleeves of Herbert’s shirt. “What could have possessed him?”
Matthias made no reply, fumbling with the elaborate buttons until Herbert made an impatient sound and stalked back towards him, grasping his wrist. Rolling the sleeves up several inches, he gave the youth an affectionate half-smile that faded when a familiar scent reached him.
Looking down at Matthias’ naked palm, he frowned, lifting the hand to his face. On the unmarked skin of the boy’s fingers, he could smell William. Not simply William’s scent, but the scent of blood.
Herbert’s fingers closed sharply around Matthias’ hand, his eyes darkening. “What have you done to William?” he hissed, his other hand grabbing a handful of Matthias’ hair and pulling his head back.
Matthias shook his head wildly, his eyes brightening with pain as Herbert’s fingers contracted mercilessly around his. His lips trembled and breaths caught in his chest, making him shudder violently. Tears were filming his eyes, and Herbert knew only a little more pressure would crush the bones. He tightened his hand a fraction.
“What have you done to William?” he repeated, his voice hard as diamond. “His blood is on your hands, Matthias. Do not lie to me.”
“A-a-a man,” Matthias sobbed out. “He hurt William!” He was rigid, shaking, his shoulders locked, tears streaking his cheeks. “I-I... h-he hurt William...” Herbert stared at him, releasing him. Matthias pulled his hands back, staggering back a step. “W-William said I had to come... I stopped the man hurting William again... William said I could come...”
“You stopped the man from hurting William again?” Herbert echoed quietly, starting to understand. Matthias nodded. “And he fell down?” Matthias nodded once more, dragging a trembling hand across his tear-sheened cheek. “Was there blood?”
“H-he hurt William,” Matthias whispered. “I-I... I did not mean to disobey...”
“Was there blood?” Herbert repeated, his voice little more than a growl. “Was the man moving?”
Trembling, Matthias shook his head. “He lay down,” he whispered, shying back. “There was blood. He was like Vati.”
Herbert closed his eyes, comprehending. “You disobeyed,” he said quietly. “I told you not to do such things.” His eyes slowly opened. “I am angry with you, little one. Stay here. Do not leave this room.”
Matthias stumbled back a pace, sinking to sit on the cot. He bowed his head, his hair falling in curtains around his face, his arms wrapping around his body as he continued to shiver in misery.
Striding from the room, leaving the door wide open, the long hall full of stretching shadows, Herbert put thoughts of the boy’s punishment aside. He had placed the boy perfectly in the labyrinth of castle rooms and knew he would not have to lift a hand. Another had already chosen that privilege.
Instead, it seemed he had amends to make.
Returning to his own chambers, he unlocked the door and strode into the room. By the window, William was once more sprawled in the chair. He had his spectacles on and was reading, not even deigning to grant Herbert a look of acknowledgement.
“William, are you all right?”
On the cover of the book, fingers moved, leaving a solitary one directed at Herbert.
“Now, darling, that’s just crass.”
Behind the book, William snorted. “Fuck you.”
Herbert stalked across the room and tugged the book from William’s hands. “I asked you a question, William,” he said, his other hand snatching William’s chin and tilting his head up, seeking some unseen injury. “Are you all right?”
Slapping Herbert’s hand away, William rose from the chair. “Didn’t bother to ask that before did you?” he snapped, his lip curling derisively. “D’you think I’d drag that little bugger all the way here if there wasn’t a bloody good reason?”
Now that William was upright, the light glinted on spots of blood in his hair, and Herbert reached out to touch it.
“Piss off!” William struck his hand away again. “I don’t need you babying me, you arse.”
“You’re hurt...” What anger he had felt towards his lover had faded in the face of concern, though it looked like only a minor wound.
William’s expression was hard. “Thank you for noticing,” he spat. “And here’s a little something I noticed: your boy is a complete bloody psycho.” As he stepped closer, William’s voice was low. “You want to tell me why the hell that brat of yours thinks its all right to knife people in the back? Or was that something you were going to save for after-dinner conversation?”
“Always in the back...” Herbert murmured to himself, then looked at William, who was staring coldly at him. “Oh, don’t worry, my darling.” His smile was far from mirthful. “I did nothing to encourage him. He became a psycho, as you call him, all thanks to his dear and gentle mortal Vati.”
“Yeah right...” William snorted.
Herbert snared William’s arm, his voice quiet. “I am serious, William,” he said, taking advantage of William’s startled look to draw him closer. “His father was a violent, merciless bastard. What Matthias does, he learned from that man.”
“He’s just a kid...” William protested.
Herbert gazed at him, then gently steered William back to sit and knelt in front of him, tilting William’s head that he might examine the wound. William muttered an obscenity, but fought no more.
“He was a child when I found him, William,” Herbert finally said quietly. “But he already had killed, more than once. He does not understand that it is not normal for one of his age. He does not even comprehend death. To him, the one he killed for you was only lying down and rendered harmless.” Grey eyes found blue. “Do you think any worse of him now?”
William stared at him in disbelief. “He doesn’t have a clue what he did, does he?”
“Only that he stopped your assailant from harming you again,” Herbert murmured, liberating several fragments of glass from William’s hair. He unbound the ponytail and combed his fingers through the loose strands, several more shards falling free. He hesitated, then looked up at William. “Would it have made it easier to feed from him, had you known he had the blood of others on his hands?”
William looked genuinely perplexed by that thought. “Hadn’t thought about it,” he muttered. “Seemed like such a nice kid...”
Herbert rose on his knees to kiss his lover on the forehead. “He is a charming boy, William,” he said softly. “That he kills without regard or guilt... it only makes him more interesting, don’t you think?”
William made no reply for several moments. “You still pissed off that I brought him back with me?” he finally asked quietly.
“I had hoped to have longer to ready him for father,” Herbert replied, picking a dry bead of blood from William’s hair. “But I fear leaving him there would have caused too many problems for dear Fridi...”
“Ready him for your dad?” Blue eyes looked doubtfully at him.
Herbert nodded. “I always intended that he would be something of a gift for Vati,” he said softly. “He has always had a great appreciation for things that are both broken and beautiful.”
“And I bet you don’t get much more broken than the brat...”
“Indeed you do not,” Herbert agreed. He lifted William’s chin with a fingertip and kissed his lips lightly. “Forgive me for my temper, darling. I should have thanked you for your quick thinking.”
William’s smile was crooked. “Let’s call it the element of surprise,” he offered, looking more than a little bashful at the compliment. “I’ll try not to do it again.”
Herbert laughed quietly. “Oh, darling, what would I do without you?”
“Have a quieter life, I think,” William replied with a faint smile. “Stupid sod.”
8.8.8.8.8.8
Curled up in one of the biggest chairs in the biggest living room, Dawn made a face at the computer screen. Though she had no webcam, the person she was chatting with did, and clearly knew her well enough to guess her expression.
Pursing his lips, Herbert pouted at her in the tiny screen. The message that appeared in their chat window chastised her for no doubt crumpling her face to resemble a cat’s backside.
“What’s funny?” Buffy asked. She was sprawled on one of the couches several feet away, her legs draped over Vittorio’s lap. He was flicking through dozens of options for invitations that Buffy had selected.
“He’s being an ass,” Dawn replied, looking up from the screen.
“You say this like it’s a big surprise,” Buffy observed, grinning.
Dawn rolled her eyes. “You wouldn’t think he was way old,” she said, pausing to type a smartmouth response to her lover’s son. “He still thinks sticking his tongue out is mature.”
“Tell him I say ‘hi’,” her sister said, leaning back against the arm of the couch and closing her eyes. “Oh, and if he comes to the wedding, he’s gonna have to behave or I am totally staking him.”
Relaying the message on, Dawn saw the surprise in Herbert’s face. “Y’know, I don’t think he was expecting an invitation,” she observed, looking at Buffy. “And now that you’ve told him to behave, you know he totally won’t.”
Cracking one eye open, Buffy grinned slowly. “You did tell him the condition of his coming, right? Behave or dustiness ensues?”
Dawn hastily typed that addition. “He... uh... he says...” On the webcam, Herbert was smiling smugly. Pointing at himself, he mouthed ‘I won’ at her, and that wasn’t quite what Dawn wanted to relay to her sister. “I’ll talk to him, k?”
“You are sure that you wish them to come, mi amore?” Vittorio raised his eyes from the pile of documents in front of him. Dawn sympathetically noticed he was looking more than a little bit panicked at the sheer quantity of wedding material that Buffy had gathered within a couple of weeks.
“Can’t say no to my baby sister’s boytoy and her step-son, can I?” Buffy replied with a smile. “Anyway, it’s not just your ex. It’s my ex too. I think we’re even, unless you decide to run off with Herbert...”
Vittorio looked so horrified that Dawn burst out laughing.
“If it helps any,” she said with a grin. “He won’t be at the actual ceremony thing. I think it would kinda distract people from how white and creampuffy Buffy’s dress is if the congregation started going flaming-torch on them.”
“Creampuffy?” Vittorio echoed, looking from Dawn to Buffy.
“Or slinky,” Dawn added. “She hasn’t chosen yet. We booked the store for looking some more tomorrow.”
“And we’re going to hit Milan next week...”
“Milan?”
Buffy nodded, beaming. “I heard there’s a really neat wedding store there.”
“Mia bella, we have seven months. Must this all be done at once?” Vittorio looked between the sisters and Dawn saw the panic turn to full-blown terror. “Surely, it will not take so long...”
Dawn’s lips were twitching. “How about I take Herbert away and leave you to discuss stuff, huh?” she offered, unfolding from the chair. She was halfway to the door, when she glanced back and added, “And Buffy, don’t forget you said you’d show him the cake choices...”
“...cake choices also...?” Vittorio sounded more like a startled schoolboy than a four and a half centuries old Immortal. “Mia bella...”
“Oh! And the guest lists have been changed again!”
“Again?”
Dawn snickered as she pulled the door closed and hurried towards one of the other living rooms to continue her conversation with Herbert. There were several impatient messages waiting in the window and the vampire was scowling at the webcam when she flipped the laptop open again.
Typing a quick explanation, she saw Herbert grinning at the thought of Vittorio suffering at the hands of his overeager Californian bride-to-be, and she waited just long enough before asking what kind of trouble they should plan for the wedding.
Herbert feigned horror at such a thought and claimed his intended to behave.
Dawn laughed and agreed that he probably would behave, but it would be badly, to which the vampire had shrugged helplessly as if he were no more to blame for that than the sun was for rising.
Challenging him to deny that he already had something in mind, she was greeted by an incongruously innocent expression on Herbert’s face, complete with palms pressed together before his chest, his eyes raised angelically to the heavens.
She informed him that he wasn’t fooling anyone and he laughed, telling her she had to stop lurking with her silly Slayer sister and come home, so he could spank her for her insolence.
Dawn smiled at that, knowing that he missed her. For him to miss a girl was a big thing and both of them knew it, so - being the loving soul she was - she promptly screamed heterosexuality at him.
Herbert burst out laughing, though he said he was offended. He also informed her that he only wished her to return because his father was brooding unbearably and it made the castle smell funny.
Checking the date, Dawn smiled. She told him that she would be returning in a fortnight and that she would be sure to bring her girlie stink back with her, as well as several more cases of clothing, if he sent the plane to pick her up.
Outraged at the thought of girlie-stink on his plane, he protested and it was accompanied by much face-making through the camera. Her response was distracted by something in the background, beyond the vampire.
“Uh...”
Apparently, there was a naked Spike in the room with Herbert.
A naked Spike with his very naked little Spike.
Or not so little as the case seemed to be.
Standing behind Herbert, Spike wrapped his hand around Herbert’s throat and slid his fingers up under his lover’s jaw, tilting his head back to kiss him. When the kiss was deepened and Herbert started to push off his own shirt, pulling Spike down towards him, Dawn hastily tried to shut down the webcam and chat window.
It popped up again.
Herbert threw a wicked smile at her through the camera, then pulled Spike’s mouth down on his.
With a squeak, Dawn covered her eyes with her hand and hastily started to shut the machine down to avoid further nudity. Of course, she had to peek between her fingers to check it had gone away and squeal even more indignantly when it was still there.
But she finally managed to switch the machine off.
Yeah, it took about ten minutes, but that was totally not her fault.
8.8.8.8.8.8
The room was dark.
Wrapped in the thin blanket and sitting in the middle of the hard floor, Matthias stared at the narrow line of light that shone beneath the door.
He always had the door closed at night time. When the door was closed, it meant you would see if someone came in. That was how he had always known when Vati was close. The handle had moved and his Vati would be a black shape in the doorway and then the light would go on and he would hurt.
That was the way it was meant to be.
His fingers clutched at the blanket and he watched the light. It didn’t change. Not here. The door never opened when it was meant to. No one came in through it. They came in. But they never opened the door.
Fingers dragged his hair aside from his cheek, nails raking over his scarred cheek.
They were behind him already.
Matthias trembled, staring at the bar of light.
The hand was laid on his shoulder. Another hand touched his other shoulder. The blanket that covered him was pulled away. Matthias breathed in. His breath shook and he tried to stop it.
Fingers dragged through his hair. It was almost like they were brushing his hair, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. He pressed his fists together in front of his chest. It felt like something was squeezing inside it.
Through his hair, the nails dragged down his back. He felt them catch on the twisted knots of skin on his right side. Biting on his lower lip, he tried not to make a noise. He could taste blood already and his lip shivered between his teeth.
He felt the cool mouth touch his bare shoulder. The tongue licked his scars and he stared harder at the light, not blinking. The line of white blurred, swirling, and he felt a dribbling tear run down his cheek.
There was a quiet laugh. The tear was licked up and Matthias felt the hand in his hair twist. He couldn’t stop his mouth opening or stop the little breath from jumping out. His head was pulled back and he whimpered.
A second hand covered his mouth and nose and he almost cried out aloud.
The mouth on his skin opened and he felt sharp teeth underneath his ear. Only Herr Herbert and William had used their teeth on him before, and when they bit him, it was nice. These teeth were different. They scraped. They scratched. They hurt.
But they never ever bit.
His Excellency didn’t like him. His Excellency didn’t bite him.
He just whispered to Matthias, touched him, and made him remember where all the marks on his skin came from. He made him shake with terror and hurt and made him want to hide. He made him feel like nothing, made him scratch at his scarred face until he bled.
Matthias felt more tears on his face. They felt so hot and his Excellency’s hands were so cold. He wanted to grab his scarred face and tear it off and throw it away and hide from his Excellency and from the things he could remember.
He could remember when he became ugly. His Excellency whispered of it, even when he dreamed, and he remembered it. He remembered Vati, he remembered the pot, the water. He remembered pain and shouting and his Excellency dragged it out of him again and again, making him shake until he wanted to scream.
But he didn’t scream.
He wouldn’t.
He hadn’t for a long, long time.
If you screamed, things only got worse.
His Excellency’s voice should have been nice. It sounded like it should be kind like Fraulein Fridi, but it wasn’t. It felt like it was under his skin, burning him, like a hot knife. It was invisible, but it felt like it was leaving marks every time he whispered against Matthias’ skin.
The cold hands covered his and Matthias pressed his lips together. He tried to stop his breathing from getting as fast as the beating inside his chest. His Excellency’s hair was soft on the scars and his teeth were hard. Matthias could smell blood. It tickled on his chest, running down.
His Excellency whispered against his throat. The door swung inwards, flooding the room with light. Matthias jerked back hard. The hands on his wrists tightened, but Matthias didn’t care. The light was on his face, on his bare body, showing him, no where to hide, no way to cover himself.
Struggling against his Excellency, Matthias lunged forward. His shoulders hurt a lot. He didn’t care. His nails were scratching his palms. Struggling and thrashing, he felt his arm twisted. He was forced around to face his Excellency and hissed, shaking his head until his hair fell over his face.
The growl almost made him stop fighting. His Excellency’s hand twisted and Matthias’ body hit the floor heavily. He whimpered, dazed, and saw the hand move, felt his hair dragged away.
A scream rose in his throat and he tried to twist away, tried to hide a little of himself, of the marks, of the pain, of the memories. His Excellency laughed, touching each one, making him remember, making him scream again and again, until he could scream no more, until his mouth tasted of blood.
His Excellency put a hand on his chest, held him down, and he didn’t fight, didn’t care any more. Tears were hot on his skin. He felt the cold mouth on his. He felt the hands moving. He closed his eyes, but he still saw and still remembered and he felt his Excellency smiling against his mouth as he started to sob.
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Part 2