Fic: TFS Book 2 [Spike/Xander, Spike/Angelus, Xander/Angelus] 32/36
Here's the next chapter. It picks up with Spike and Angel still asleep after the end of Chapter 31. Previous parts here or at Penetrating Urges.
ETA: This series is currently on indefinite hiatus. I more or less lost my muse on this one, guys. I desperately want to finish it, my muse just won't cooperate and I have no idea if that will ever change. Sorry.
Title: Twisted Fates Series: Book Two
Pairings (main): S/X; S/A(us); X/A(us)
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warning: (Overall) Violence, bloodplay, and torture (will clearly mark the specific chapters involving torture)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit...just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Dedication: For eyezrthewindows. Without her, I probably never would have found the courage to post this anywhere. Also, it wouldn't be the story it is without her input.
Setting: BtVS S2
Summary: What if Spike had been the one to get the soul, and the hyena trans-possession had suffered a few...glitches?
Chapter 32
A London street at night, 1880…
William staggered down the dark London street, tears blurring his vision. He had no idea where he was headed, just that he had to get away. Away from that awful party and those awful people and the heart-wrenching pain Cecily-the woman he loved-had bore down on him with her cruel words.
"I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me."
An undignified sob broke free from his throat as the words rang through his head over and over. He had deluded himself into thinking someone like Cecily would want anything to do with someone like him. He had written nearly a full volume of poetry all for her and none of it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.
Blindly he stumbled along the cobbled street, ripping up the poems he had with him as he went. He bumped into a tall man headed in the other direction and the pages in his hands slipped out of his grasp, scattering around him.
Irrationally angry at the man, William bit out harshly, "Watch where you're going!"
Gathering the torn sheets up from the ground, he once again started for parts unknown. Behind him, he failed to notice the stranger's attention trained pointedly on his retreating back.
An indeterminate time later, William found himself in a random alley sitting on a bale of hay, still tearing his poems into smaller and smaller pieces. Hearing a sound, he looked up, his blue eyes still bright with unshed tears. Despair had long since overtaken him, robbing him of the release the tears had given him.
At the mouth of the alley, a tall man with long dark hair pulled back away from his face, stood holding several scraps of paper. "You missed some."
"Excuse me?" William asked, noting the stranger's Irish accent.
The man smiled softly and held out the papers. "When you ran into me earlier. You were in such a hurry that you left some of the papers behind."
William brushed the back of his hand over his cheeks, trying to rid himself of at least some of the embarrassment of having been caught crying. Flustered by that fact, and by the man's intent gaze, he stammered, "Oh. I um…thank you…"
"Angelus." Angelus supplied.
William's cheeks pinkened slightly at the familiarity of the first name. He had expected a formal name, a Mr. Such-and-such. "Angelus. I am...that is...thank you. "
Uncomfortable with the situation all around, William thought it better to keep his name out of the matter, not knowing whether to stay with polite society rules and introduce himself properly, or give Angelus his first name in return.
Standing, he stepped forward hesitantly and reached for the papers. When his fingers curled over them, Angelus' free hand suddenly snaked out, covering his and preventing him from pulling back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Angelus held the young man's hand trapped between his, refusing to let go, even though he was clearly trying to pull back .
Disconcerted, William's eyes swept over Angelus' face, finally noting just how hansom he was. So hansom in fact, that it was probably something William would have noticed first off if he hadn't been so distraught over Cecily's rejection. He was sure the man must have ladies swooning at his feet on a regular basis, despite his Irish accent. Why the gentleman was bothering with him at all was a mystery. What was also a mystery was the fact that William was finding himself affected by the man's presence in ways he hadn't allowed himself to be affected since his school days.
Distracted by the sudden reappearance of long-suppressed urges, William made a decision, albeit, a most likely ill-advised decision. "William. My name is...William."
Angelus smiled. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look lost...William."
"I took a wrong turn is all. I was just taking a minute to gather my thoughts before I headed back the way I came. Mother is waiting for me at home, I expect." William attempted to tug his hand back yet again.
Angelus nodded wisely, releasing William's hand and the papers at last. "If you tell me where it is you live, I may be able to guide you back on the correct path."
William let out a self-deprecating bark of laughter. "I don't think that's possible. There is no right path for me, you see."
Angelus stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Oh, but I think there is."
William swallowed hard at the intent look in Angelus' dark brown eyes and backed up a couple steps. When Angelus started toward him again, William put out his free hand to ward him off.
"That's quite close enough. I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you."
William was quite sure Angelus had no intention of picking his pocket. His manner of dress, the way he carried himself and spoke told of breeding and wealth, but William could feel that he wanted something from him. Everything about the gentleman screamed danger to William, and in his agitated state, thinking him a pickpocket had been the first excuse to come to mind to try to ward him off.
Angelus' hand reached out, circling William's arm. He brushed his thumb lightly over the pulse point on the inside of the young man's wrist. His smile was slow and meaning-filled as he responded, "Oh, my boy. It's not your purse I'm after." He paused for a heartbeat and William relaxed slightly, lulled by Angelus' voice and actions. "You have other things of far more value that I want."
William stiffened again, jerking his hand away as he backed up another step and found himself trapped against the wall, Angelus still closing in on him. "Wh…what could I possibly have that could be of value to someone like you?" He asked, completely baffled.
William watched with wary eyes as Angelus closed the rest of the distance between them, until their bodies were within scant inches of touching. Bewildered by Angelus' forward actions, William found himself unable to move-transfixed, as it were-by his overpowering presence.
A brush of cool air against his neck jerked William back to awareness and he realized with more than a little alarm that Angelus had somehow managed to open his collar without his knowledge. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt the man's fingers softly caress his jugular. William closed his eyes briefly as Angelus repeated the caress, mortified at the realization that he was hardening in his pants because of it. William stood frozen to the spot, praying Angelus wouldn't notice, praying, in fact, that this was all some sort of misery-induced nightmare he would wake up from at any moment.
Angelus studied William's flushed, agitated face and closed the rest of the distance between them, the front of his body barely brushing the front of the young man's. Just enough to feel William's obviously unwelcome erection, and to make sure William could feel his hardness in return. If the way William's eyes flew open in shock was any indication, Angelus had succeeded.
In a low, seductive voice, Angelus finally answered William's question. "You, my sweet William, have life. So rich and so full of flavor I cannot help but give into the urge to taste it. Will you allow me that? May I taste your life?"
Angelus had been staring at William's neck, but with the last question, he lifted his eyes and stared into the man's bright blue ones. He was having fun with this one. It had been a while since he had taken a childe. While at first he had only planned on draining the man for daring to talk to him the way he had on the street earlier, he found the more time he spent with the foppish Englishman, the more drawn in he was by his inherent beauty, and if there was one thing Angelus couldn't resist, it was surrounding himself with beauty.
Lifting a shaky hand to Angelus' chest, ostensibly to push him away, William instead found himself clutching at the fabric there, holding Angelus to him. He closed his eyes again and breathed Angelus' cologne in, wondering at the thick fog that seemed to have invaded his brain. He couldn’t think straight at all, couldn't come up with a reason on earth to say no to him, even though he knew he should. By that point, Angelus had managed to overwhelm so completely all of William's senses, that Cecily was but a mere hint of a memory in his mind. His whole world had narrowed down to the man standing in front of him, seducing him with words and actions and the power radiating from him. William could have no more denied him than he could have stopped his heart beating.
"Yes. Yes…you may," William finally answered on a whisper, the words pulled from him as if by some outside force.
A rumbling sound filled the air between them and William felt the vibration of it thrum through the hand clutching Angelus' shirt. Opening his eyes, he looked up into the other man's face and watched, equally fascinated and horrified as his face changed, ridges suddenly protruding from his forehead, the brown of his irises bleeding into gold. William tried to say something, but nothing came out. He sucked in a deep breath as Angelus opened his mouth, revealing the fact that there were now fangs where teeth had been a moment ago.
Angelus pulled William's collar aside more fully and leaned in, burying his face in the side of his neck, smirking when William squeaked in an unmanly fashion. Taking this one's innocence was going to be an experience he relished more than anything he had done in a long time. Angelus inhaled deeply, scenting fear, anticipation and arousal pouring off William in an intoxicating mix. Growling appreciatively, he licked at the young man's jugular, stroking it as he would a cock under his tongue, raising the vein there until it was fairly bulging against the warm flesh. With William whimpering and shifting against him, hand still clutching at his shirt, Angelus finally sank his fangs in, slicing easily through living tissue. At the first taste of hot, human blood, Angelus groaned and pressed against William more fully, giving both of them the contact their bodies were craving.
Against the wall, William panted and moaned, the sharp pain of the initial bite fading into indescribable pleasure as Angelus began drawing blood from his body. He was beside himself with desire, need and fear of what was happening. The papers that had remained clutched in one hand until that point fluttered to the ground, completely forgotten as he brought his now free hand up to Angelus' hair, threading his fingers through it, loosening the leather thong at the back and holding his head to his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head as sensations he could not begin to name coursed through him, centering on the throbbing pulse point in his throat. Somehow that was sending a message directly to his groin at the same time, making him swell painfully until he thought he might burst.
As he continued to feed off William, Angelus began to grind his hips against him, the urge to cum almost as strong as the urge to drain him and make him his forever. In pleased surprise, he felt William hesitantly drop his hands to his hips and hold on tight, grinding back against him, catching the rhythm almost flawlessly.
The pace picked up frantically between them until they were writhing against each other uncontrollably. William moaned and whimpered and fought for air as he lost himself to the moment completely. He felt suddenly lightheaded, but was helpless to stop what was happening to save his life...not that he really believed that was an option anymore, anyway.
"I…I…oh God." William moaned.
He tried to put into words what he was feeling, but words escaped him. And then he was careening off the edge of the cliff, climaxing and dying all at once and he wouldn't have stopped it if he could, wanted it to last forever. All too soon it was over, and Angelus stepped back away from him. William clutched at his hips in a death grip even as he dropped to his knees before him. Panting harshly, sensing the remainder of his life bleeding out of him, he used the last of his strength to look up into Angelus' eyes pleadingly.
"Angelus…please," he gasped, unsure what exactly it was that he was asking for…what it was that he needed desperately right then.
Angelus dropped to his knees before him, reaching out to cover his lips with a finger. " Shh, my boy…It'll all be over in a moment." As he spoke, he used his free hand to work open his own shirt and push it aside. Using his nail, he scraped it across the top of one nipple, slicing it open.
Grasping the back of William's head, he pulled his face forward and down, positioning his mouth against his chest and ordering, "Drink. Drink and be mine. Always."
"Yes," William whispered against his skin an instant before he latched on and sucked deeply.
Back in Sunnydale at the mansion…
Spike woke with a start, his mouth still latched onto Angel's chest where he had fallen asleep feeding the night before. He blinked, disoriented for a moment by the very vivid memory-turned-dream. He mentally shook it off and pulled back from Angel's chest reluctantly. He glanced at his sleeping sire and licked his lips of the last drops of sire's blood as he tested his injuries. He was pleased to find his ribs and wrist were nearly healed, his face didn't feel like a giant balloon, and his arse amazingly didn't hurt at all. He glanced down at his shoulder to find that it was healed also. Sire's blood could do amazing things, he mused before his brows knit together at the memory of his dream.
Angel woke beside him, saw the contemplative expression on Spike's face, and sat up slowly. "What is it?"
"Had a dream."
"About?"
"The night you turned me."
Angel's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "So did I." He reached out and brushed a hand down Spike's bare arm. "Good memories, then."
Spike turned and stared into Angel's eyes. "The best. You saved my life that night."
Angel chuckled. "Most humans would disagree, since I effectively ended it."
Spike snorted. "There was nothing to end. I was a sad little man with no life, no hopes for one with any meaning at all, and a need to write truly horrible poetry."
Angel laughed, remembering Darla's reaction when he had brought him home the next night after Spike had dug himself out of his grave. "Darla thought I had lost it. She remembered you from the night on the street and couldn't fathom why on earth I had deemed you worthy to be a childe. Drusilla thought I had brought her home a puppy."
Spike chuckled. "I remember meeting Dru for the first time and being very, very scared. Darla just irritated the hell out of me. I could tell she was jealous even then."
"Well, I did pay a lot of attention to you that I used to focus on her."
Before Spike could reply, Darla entered the room, holding a newspaper in her hands. With a bored expression plastered on her face, she looked up from what she was reading and commented, "Decided to rejoin the land of the conscious?"
Spike smirked as he stood and reached for his cigarettes, uncaring of his nakedness. "Snippy doesn't suit you, pet."
Ignoring the comment, Darla's eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. "You're a mess."
Spike smiled over at Angel, who was struggling to his feet. Unlike him, the older vampire was not totally healed, having not had the advantage of drinking sire's blood before falling asleep that Spike had. "Yeah, well, had a messy night. Didn't we, sire?"
Angel rolled his eyes at Spike and Darla's badly disguised cat fight. Spike knew it amused Angel to no end when they both got territorial over him, which was half the reason why Spike bated Darla so often.
Once Angel had gotten to his feet, Spike offered him a cigarette.
Angel turned to Darla as he took a drag from the cigarette and asked, "What's with the paper? You don't usually give a damn about current events."
Darla shrugged. "Cassie had one of her visions. Said we might want to check out the headline."
Angel strode over and took the paper from Darla's hands, ignoring her irritated glare. After a moment, he said, "Ooh...what do we have here?"
Spike walked over and leaned in, reading along. "What?"
"The museum. An Obelisk…" Angel replied absently as he scanned the article.
"And for those of us who don't spend our time with our noses buried in boring books with equally boring words…and Obelisk is?" Spike asked jokingly.
Angel growled low in his throat in warning at Spike's insolence. "Don’t worry about it. You'll find out soon enough."
Irritated at being dismissed that way, Spike started, "Angel-"
Angel handed the paper back to Darla and turned to Spike, grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him in for a harsh kiss, effectively cutting off whatever he had been about to say.
Pulling back slightly to look down into Spike's suitably distracted face, Angel shot him a self-satisfied smile. "I said, don't worry about it. It's going to be a surprise."
Spike quirked a brow. "A surprise, hmm? A good one?"
Angel's smile turned menacing, his eyes flashing with promise. "The best."
At the high school, Buffy sat at one end of the table in the library, playing idly with a pen, while Giles searched a stack of books at the other end of the table for information.
"So, this obsolete…oblong…this stone thing could have something inside it?" Buffy asked.
Giles nodded without looking up. "Obelisk. And y..yes. The curator at the museum was ready to open it without knowing anything about what was inside."
"And I'm guessing that would have been not of the good, right?"
"Most certainly. The sheer number of things that could be contained within…it could be disastrous. Plagues, curses, demons…" Giles trailed off as he began flipping through one of the books in his stack.
"Good thing he called you in before he did it then huh?" Giles made a sound of confirmation and Buffy asked after a moment. "Hey, why did he call you in anyway?"
Giles finally glanced up at her, exasperated by all her questions. "It may come as some surprise to you but I am more than a mere stuffy-shirted, middle-aged librarian. I am actually known in some circles as an authority in this sort of thing. I was recommended to the curator by someone at the Washington Institute."
Buffy looked suitably impressed. "Wow. So you're a stuffy-shirted, middle-aged expert on old stuff, huh?"
Giles opened his mouth with a retort, but before he could get it out, Xander and Willow came rushing into the room.
"Giles! Giles! Read this!" Willow said excitedly, holding out the computer printout to him.
"What is it?" Giles asked, taking the paper from her as she practically bounced off the walls. Xander stood next to her, shifting from foot to foot nervously.
"I was helping Xander with his Chemistry in the computer room just now and Xander dropped a pencil and reached down to grab it and found a disk that must have been Ms. Calendar's. It was unmarked so I popped it into the hard drive and all of a sudden this translating program popped up and a minute later a spell was on the screen. We couldn't believe what it was for so I printed it up and brought it here…"
"Willow, Willow! For heaven's sake, take a breath!" Giles ordered.
When Willow's mouth snapped shut and she did as told, Giles looked down at the paper in his hand, disbelief showing on his face as he read what the spell was for. "This is…it's…impossible!"
Buffy's eyebrows scrunched together. "What is it?"
Xander spoke up finally, gesturing at the printout. "The curse. Spike's curse. This is it."
"Looks like Ms. Calendar was trying to replicate the original curse. To restore Spike's soul again." Willow added.
More to himself than the others in the room, Giles mumbled, "She said it couldn't be done."
Xander shrugged, trying not to let any of the memories of killing Jenny or his inner turmoil over what this could all mean show on his face. "Well, she tried anyway. Looks like it might have worked."
Buffy, not fooled by Xander's nonchalance, couldn't help the venom that entered her voice. She hated how Spike had torn Xander apart and forced him to do things he was having a hard time living with now. "So, before she could tell anyone about it, he tortured her and-" she almost said, 'forced Xander to kill her,' but at the flinch she saw cross Xander's face said instead, "-made sure she wouldn't be around to do anything about it."
Willow, still caught up in the excitement of the moment and therefore not having noticed the sudden tension between Xander and Buffy, asked, "This is good, right? I mean, we can curse him again now and he'll be Wil again."
Xander's expression darkened and he turned away from the group, trying to decide how he felt about that.
Giles noticed Xander's reaction out of the corner of his eye and said carefully, "Um, well, this is uh…it certainly points the way, but the ritual itself requires a greater knowledge of the black arts than I can claim."
Confidently, Willow said, "Well, I've been going through her files and…and researching the black arts, for fun…or educational fun…and I may be able to work this."
Giles looked at her, concern etched clearly on his face. "Willow...channeling...such potent magicks through yourself...it could open a door that you may not be able to close."
Xander turned abruptly to face Willow and said vehemently, "I don't want you putting yourself in danger, Wills." The last thing he wanted was another casualty brought on by his love life.
Willow shook her head and held up her hands dramatically. "And I don't want danger. Big no to danger, but I may be the best person to do this."
Buffy stood and paced for a minute, then stopped and faced them. "Okay, not to seem heartless or anything, but what if the spell does work? What if it restores Spike's humanity? What then? Do we just forget everything he's done in the last few months? Everyone he's killed? What he's put Xander through?"
Willow shook her head. "No, but Wil didn't do all that, Spike did."
Quietly, Giles commented, "Curing Spike seems to have been Jenny's last wish."
Xander stiffened at that, the thought about what Wil would go through if he regained his soul and remembered all he had done to him…and others while he was soulless running through his head. "Yeah, but it's not a cure, is it? Not really anyway. It's a curse. It's unnatural for a vampire to have a soul...a conscience."
With that, everyone began to speak at once, arguing the pros and cons of restoring Spike's soul.
Finally, Xander had enough and shouted, "Enough! Stop it!"
When they had all shut up, Xander found the silence was even worse. Turning away, he walked over to the steps to the upper level and sat down wearily.
Willow glanced at Giles and Buffy and walked over to him, sat down beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders. "What do you wanna do?"
Xander blinked back the moisture in his eyes and took a shaky breath, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "I…I don't know. What happened to Wil wasn't his fault, but…he's going to go through hell if we bring him back. I just don't know if it's the right thing or not."
No one spoke for a moment. Xander wasn't surprised. There wasn't much any of them could say to make the decision easier. Finally, he pulled himself together minutely and stood. "I need some time alone to think about this guys. I just can't...I...I'm sorry. I have to go."
With that he took off, leaving three very worried people staring after him.
TBC…
The next chapter can be found here: Chapter 33
ETA: This series is currently on indefinite hiatus. I more or less lost my muse on this one, guys. I desperately want to finish it, my muse just won't cooperate and I have no idea if that will ever change. Sorry.
Title: Twisted Fates Series: Book Two
Pairings (main): S/X; S/A(us); X/A(us)
Rating: NC-17 overall
Warning: (Overall) Violence, bloodplay, and torture (will clearly mark the specific chapters involving torture)
Disclaimer: Not mine, not for profit...just borrowing them to get the plot bunny that invaded my brain to shut up already.
Dedication: For eyezrthewindows. Without her, I probably never would have found the courage to post this anywhere. Also, it wouldn't be the story it is without her input.
Setting: BtVS S2
Summary: What if Spike had been the one to get the soul, and the hyena trans-possession had suffered a few...glitches?
Chapter 32
A London street at night, 1880…
William staggered down the dark London street, tears blurring his vision. He had no idea where he was headed, just that he had to get away. Away from that awful party and those awful people and the heart-wrenching pain Cecily-the woman he loved-had bore down on him with her cruel words.
"I do see you. That's the problem. You're nothing to me, William. You're beneath me."
An undignified sob broke free from his throat as the words rang through his head over and over. He had deluded himself into thinking someone like Cecily would want anything to do with someone like him. He had written nearly a full volume of poetry all for her and none of it mattered. Nothing mattered anymore.
Blindly he stumbled along the cobbled street, ripping up the poems he had with him as he went. He bumped into a tall man headed in the other direction and the pages in his hands slipped out of his grasp, scattering around him.
Irrationally angry at the man, William bit out harshly, "Watch where you're going!"
Gathering the torn sheets up from the ground, he once again started for parts unknown. Behind him, he failed to notice the stranger's attention trained pointedly on his retreating back.
An indeterminate time later, William found himself in a random alley sitting on a bale of hay, still tearing his poems into smaller and smaller pieces. Hearing a sound, he looked up, his blue eyes still bright with unshed tears. Despair had long since overtaken him, robbing him of the release the tears had given him.
At the mouth of the alley, a tall man with long dark hair pulled back away from his face, stood holding several scraps of paper. "You missed some."
"Excuse me?" William asked, noting the stranger's Irish accent.
The man smiled softly and held out the papers. "When you ran into me earlier. You were in such a hurry that you left some of the papers behind."
William brushed the back of his hand over his cheeks, trying to rid himself of at least some of the embarrassment of having been caught crying. Flustered by that fact, and by the man's intent gaze, he stammered, "Oh. I um…thank you…"
"Angelus." Angelus supplied.
William's cheeks pinkened slightly at the familiarity of the first name. He had expected a formal name, a Mr. Such-and-such. "Angelus. I am...that is...thank you. "
Uncomfortable with the situation all around, William thought it better to keep his name out of the matter, not knowing whether to stay with polite society rules and introduce himself properly, or give Angelus his first name in return.
Standing, he stepped forward hesitantly and reached for the papers. When his fingers curled over them, Angelus' free hand suddenly snaked out, covering his and preventing him from pulling back.
"I'm sorry, I didn't catch your name." Angelus held the young man's hand trapped between his, refusing to let go, even though he was clearly trying to pull back .
Disconcerted, William's eyes swept over Angelus' face, finally noting just how hansom he was. So hansom in fact, that it was probably something William would have noticed first off if he hadn't been so distraught over Cecily's rejection. He was sure the man must have ladies swooning at his feet on a regular basis, despite his Irish accent. Why the gentleman was bothering with him at all was a mystery. What was also a mystery was the fact that William was finding himself affected by the man's presence in ways he hadn't allowed himself to be affected since his school days.
Distracted by the sudden reappearance of long-suppressed urges, William made a decision, albeit, a most likely ill-advised decision. "William. My name is...William."
Angelus smiled. "Forgive me for saying so, but you look lost...William."
"I took a wrong turn is all. I was just taking a minute to gather my thoughts before I headed back the way I came. Mother is waiting for me at home, I expect." William attempted to tug his hand back yet again.
Angelus nodded wisely, releasing William's hand and the papers at last. "If you tell me where it is you live, I may be able to guide you back on the correct path."
William let out a self-deprecating bark of laughter. "I don't think that's possible. There is no right path for me, you see."
Angelus stepped forward, closing the distance between them. "Oh, but I think there is."
William swallowed hard at the intent look in Angelus' dark brown eyes and backed up a couple steps. When Angelus started toward him again, William put out his free hand to ward him off.
"That's quite close enough. I've heard tales of London pickpockets. You'll not be getting my purse, I tell you."
William was quite sure Angelus had no intention of picking his pocket. His manner of dress, the way he carried himself and spoke told of breeding and wealth, but William could feel that he wanted something from him. Everything about the gentleman screamed danger to William, and in his agitated state, thinking him a pickpocket had been the first excuse to come to mind to try to ward him off.
Angelus' hand reached out, circling William's arm. He brushed his thumb lightly over the pulse point on the inside of the young man's wrist. His smile was slow and meaning-filled as he responded, "Oh, my boy. It's not your purse I'm after." He paused for a heartbeat and William relaxed slightly, lulled by Angelus' voice and actions. "You have other things of far more value that I want."
William stiffened again, jerking his hand away as he backed up another step and found himself trapped against the wall, Angelus still closing in on him. "Wh…what could I possibly have that could be of value to someone like you?" He asked, completely baffled.
William watched with wary eyes as Angelus closed the rest of the distance between them, until their bodies were within scant inches of touching. Bewildered by Angelus' forward actions, William found himself unable to move-transfixed, as it were-by his overpowering presence.
A brush of cool air against his neck jerked William back to awareness and he realized with more than a little alarm that Angelus had somehow managed to open his collar without his knowledge. He sucked in a sharp breath when he felt the man's fingers softly caress his jugular. William closed his eyes briefly as Angelus repeated the caress, mortified at the realization that he was hardening in his pants because of it. William stood frozen to the spot, praying Angelus wouldn't notice, praying, in fact, that this was all some sort of misery-induced nightmare he would wake up from at any moment.
Angelus studied William's flushed, agitated face and closed the rest of the distance between them, the front of his body barely brushing the front of the young man's. Just enough to feel William's obviously unwelcome erection, and to make sure William could feel his hardness in return. If the way William's eyes flew open in shock was any indication, Angelus had succeeded.
In a low, seductive voice, Angelus finally answered William's question. "You, my sweet William, have life. So rich and so full of flavor I cannot help but give into the urge to taste it. Will you allow me that? May I taste your life?"
Angelus had been staring at William's neck, but with the last question, he lifted his eyes and stared into the man's bright blue ones. He was having fun with this one. It had been a while since he had taken a childe. While at first he had only planned on draining the man for daring to talk to him the way he had on the street earlier, he found the more time he spent with the foppish Englishman, the more drawn in he was by his inherent beauty, and if there was one thing Angelus couldn't resist, it was surrounding himself with beauty.
Lifting a shaky hand to Angelus' chest, ostensibly to push him away, William instead found himself clutching at the fabric there, holding Angelus to him. He closed his eyes again and breathed Angelus' cologne in, wondering at the thick fog that seemed to have invaded his brain. He couldn’t think straight at all, couldn't come up with a reason on earth to say no to him, even though he knew he should. By that point, Angelus had managed to overwhelm so completely all of William's senses, that Cecily was but a mere hint of a memory in his mind. His whole world had narrowed down to the man standing in front of him, seducing him with words and actions and the power radiating from him. William could have no more denied him than he could have stopped his heart beating.
"Yes. Yes…you may," William finally answered on a whisper, the words pulled from him as if by some outside force.
A rumbling sound filled the air between them and William felt the vibration of it thrum through the hand clutching Angelus' shirt. Opening his eyes, he looked up into the other man's face and watched, equally fascinated and horrified as his face changed, ridges suddenly protruding from his forehead, the brown of his irises bleeding into gold. William tried to say something, but nothing came out. He sucked in a deep breath as Angelus opened his mouth, revealing the fact that there were now fangs where teeth had been a moment ago.
Angelus pulled William's collar aside more fully and leaned in, burying his face in the side of his neck, smirking when William squeaked in an unmanly fashion. Taking this one's innocence was going to be an experience he relished more than anything he had done in a long time. Angelus inhaled deeply, scenting fear, anticipation and arousal pouring off William in an intoxicating mix. Growling appreciatively, he licked at the young man's jugular, stroking it as he would a cock under his tongue, raising the vein there until it was fairly bulging against the warm flesh. With William whimpering and shifting against him, hand still clutching at his shirt, Angelus finally sank his fangs in, slicing easily through living tissue. At the first taste of hot, human blood, Angelus groaned and pressed against William more fully, giving both of them the contact their bodies were craving.
Against the wall, William panted and moaned, the sharp pain of the initial bite fading into indescribable pleasure as Angelus began drawing blood from his body. He was beside himself with desire, need and fear of what was happening. The papers that had remained clutched in one hand until that point fluttered to the ground, completely forgotten as he brought his now free hand up to Angelus' hair, threading his fingers through it, loosening the leather thong at the back and holding his head to his neck. His eyes rolled back in his head as sensations he could not begin to name coursed through him, centering on the throbbing pulse point in his throat. Somehow that was sending a message directly to his groin at the same time, making him swell painfully until he thought he might burst.
As he continued to feed off William, Angelus began to grind his hips against him, the urge to cum almost as strong as the urge to drain him and make him his forever. In pleased surprise, he felt William hesitantly drop his hands to his hips and hold on tight, grinding back against him, catching the rhythm almost flawlessly.
The pace picked up frantically between them until they were writhing against each other uncontrollably. William moaned and whimpered and fought for air as he lost himself to the moment completely. He felt suddenly lightheaded, but was helpless to stop what was happening to save his life...not that he really believed that was an option anymore, anyway.
"I…I…oh God." William moaned.
He tried to put into words what he was feeling, but words escaped him. And then he was careening off the edge of the cliff, climaxing and dying all at once and he wouldn't have stopped it if he could, wanted it to last forever. All too soon it was over, and Angelus stepped back away from him. William clutched at his hips in a death grip even as he dropped to his knees before him. Panting harshly, sensing the remainder of his life bleeding out of him, he used the last of his strength to look up into Angelus' eyes pleadingly.
"Angelus…please," he gasped, unsure what exactly it was that he was asking for…what it was that he needed desperately right then.
Angelus dropped to his knees before him, reaching out to cover his lips with a finger. " Shh, my boy…It'll all be over in a moment." As he spoke, he used his free hand to work open his own shirt and push it aside. Using his nail, he scraped it across the top of one nipple, slicing it open.
Grasping the back of William's head, he pulled his face forward and down, positioning his mouth against his chest and ordering, "Drink. Drink and be mine. Always."
"Yes," William whispered against his skin an instant before he latched on and sucked deeply.
Back in Sunnydale at the mansion…
Spike woke with a start, his mouth still latched onto Angel's chest where he had fallen asleep feeding the night before. He blinked, disoriented for a moment by the very vivid memory-turned-dream. He mentally shook it off and pulled back from Angel's chest reluctantly. He glanced at his sleeping sire and licked his lips of the last drops of sire's blood as he tested his injuries. He was pleased to find his ribs and wrist were nearly healed, his face didn't feel like a giant balloon, and his arse amazingly didn't hurt at all. He glanced down at his shoulder to find that it was healed also. Sire's blood could do amazing things, he mused before his brows knit together at the memory of his dream.
Angel woke beside him, saw the contemplative expression on Spike's face, and sat up slowly. "What is it?"
"Had a dream."
"About?"
"The night you turned me."
Angel's eyebrows rose in mild surprise. "So did I." He reached out and brushed a hand down Spike's bare arm. "Good memories, then."
Spike turned and stared into Angel's eyes. "The best. You saved my life that night."
Angel chuckled. "Most humans would disagree, since I effectively ended it."
Spike snorted. "There was nothing to end. I was a sad little man with no life, no hopes for one with any meaning at all, and a need to write truly horrible poetry."
Angel laughed, remembering Darla's reaction when he had brought him home the next night after Spike had dug himself out of his grave. "Darla thought I had lost it. She remembered you from the night on the street and couldn't fathom why on earth I had deemed you worthy to be a childe. Drusilla thought I had brought her home a puppy."
Spike chuckled. "I remember meeting Dru for the first time and being very, very scared. Darla just irritated the hell out of me. I could tell she was jealous even then."
"Well, I did pay a lot of attention to you that I used to focus on her."
Before Spike could reply, Darla entered the room, holding a newspaper in her hands. With a bored expression plastered on her face, she looked up from what she was reading and commented, "Decided to rejoin the land of the conscious?"
Spike smirked as he stood and reached for his cigarettes, uncaring of his nakedness. "Snippy doesn't suit you, pet."
Ignoring the comment, Darla's eyes narrowed as she looked him up and down. "You're a mess."
Spike smiled over at Angel, who was struggling to his feet. Unlike him, the older vampire was not totally healed, having not had the advantage of drinking sire's blood before falling asleep that Spike had. "Yeah, well, had a messy night. Didn't we, sire?"
Angel rolled his eyes at Spike and Darla's badly disguised cat fight. Spike knew it amused Angel to no end when they both got territorial over him, which was half the reason why Spike bated Darla so often.
Once Angel had gotten to his feet, Spike offered him a cigarette.
Angel turned to Darla as he took a drag from the cigarette and asked, "What's with the paper? You don't usually give a damn about current events."
Darla shrugged. "Cassie had one of her visions. Said we might want to check out the headline."
Angel strode over and took the paper from Darla's hands, ignoring her irritated glare. After a moment, he said, "Ooh...what do we have here?"
Spike walked over and leaned in, reading along. "What?"
"The museum. An Obelisk…" Angel replied absently as he scanned the article.
"And for those of us who don't spend our time with our noses buried in boring books with equally boring words…and Obelisk is?" Spike asked jokingly.
Angel growled low in his throat in warning at Spike's insolence. "Don’t worry about it. You'll find out soon enough."
Irritated at being dismissed that way, Spike started, "Angel-"
Angel handed the paper back to Darla and turned to Spike, grabbing him by the back of the head and pulling him in for a harsh kiss, effectively cutting off whatever he had been about to say.
Pulling back slightly to look down into Spike's suitably distracted face, Angel shot him a self-satisfied smile. "I said, don't worry about it. It's going to be a surprise."
Spike quirked a brow. "A surprise, hmm? A good one?"
Angel's smile turned menacing, his eyes flashing with promise. "The best."
At the high school, Buffy sat at one end of the table in the library, playing idly with a pen, while Giles searched a stack of books at the other end of the table for information.
"So, this obsolete…oblong…this stone thing could have something inside it?" Buffy asked.
Giles nodded without looking up. "Obelisk. And y..yes. The curator at the museum was ready to open it without knowing anything about what was inside."
"And I'm guessing that would have been not of the good, right?"
"Most certainly. The sheer number of things that could be contained within…it could be disastrous. Plagues, curses, demons…" Giles trailed off as he began flipping through one of the books in his stack.
"Good thing he called you in before he did it then huh?" Giles made a sound of confirmation and Buffy asked after a moment. "Hey, why did he call you in anyway?"
Giles finally glanced up at her, exasperated by all her questions. "It may come as some surprise to you but I am more than a mere stuffy-shirted, middle-aged librarian. I am actually known in some circles as an authority in this sort of thing. I was recommended to the curator by someone at the Washington Institute."
Buffy looked suitably impressed. "Wow. So you're a stuffy-shirted, middle-aged expert on old stuff, huh?"
Giles opened his mouth with a retort, but before he could get it out, Xander and Willow came rushing into the room.
"Giles! Giles! Read this!" Willow said excitedly, holding out the computer printout to him.
"What is it?" Giles asked, taking the paper from her as she practically bounced off the walls. Xander stood next to her, shifting from foot to foot nervously.
"I was helping Xander with his Chemistry in the computer room just now and Xander dropped a pencil and reached down to grab it and found a disk that must have been Ms. Calendar's. It was unmarked so I popped it into the hard drive and all of a sudden this translating program popped up and a minute later a spell was on the screen. We couldn't believe what it was for so I printed it up and brought it here…"
"Willow, Willow! For heaven's sake, take a breath!" Giles ordered.
When Willow's mouth snapped shut and she did as told, Giles looked down at the paper in his hand, disbelief showing on his face as he read what the spell was for. "This is…it's…impossible!"
Buffy's eyebrows scrunched together. "What is it?"
Xander spoke up finally, gesturing at the printout. "The curse. Spike's curse. This is it."
"Looks like Ms. Calendar was trying to replicate the original curse. To restore Spike's soul again." Willow added.
More to himself than the others in the room, Giles mumbled, "She said it couldn't be done."
Xander shrugged, trying not to let any of the memories of killing Jenny or his inner turmoil over what this could all mean show on his face. "Well, she tried anyway. Looks like it might have worked."
Buffy, not fooled by Xander's nonchalance, couldn't help the venom that entered her voice. She hated how Spike had torn Xander apart and forced him to do things he was having a hard time living with now. "So, before she could tell anyone about it, he tortured her and-" she almost said, 'forced Xander to kill her,' but at the flinch she saw cross Xander's face said instead, "-made sure she wouldn't be around to do anything about it."
Willow, still caught up in the excitement of the moment and therefore not having noticed the sudden tension between Xander and Buffy, asked, "This is good, right? I mean, we can curse him again now and he'll be Wil again."
Xander's expression darkened and he turned away from the group, trying to decide how he felt about that.
Giles noticed Xander's reaction out of the corner of his eye and said carefully, "Um, well, this is uh…it certainly points the way, but the ritual itself requires a greater knowledge of the black arts than I can claim."
Confidently, Willow said, "Well, I've been going through her files and…and researching the black arts, for fun…or educational fun…and I may be able to work this."
Giles looked at her, concern etched clearly on his face. "Willow...channeling...such potent magicks through yourself...it could open a door that you may not be able to close."
Xander turned abruptly to face Willow and said vehemently, "I don't want you putting yourself in danger, Wills." The last thing he wanted was another casualty brought on by his love life.
Willow shook her head and held up her hands dramatically. "And I don't want danger. Big no to danger, but I may be the best person to do this."
Buffy stood and paced for a minute, then stopped and faced them. "Okay, not to seem heartless or anything, but what if the spell does work? What if it restores Spike's humanity? What then? Do we just forget everything he's done in the last few months? Everyone he's killed? What he's put Xander through?"
Willow shook her head. "No, but Wil didn't do all that, Spike did."
Quietly, Giles commented, "Curing Spike seems to have been Jenny's last wish."
Xander stiffened at that, the thought about what Wil would go through if he regained his soul and remembered all he had done to him…and others while he was soulless running through his head. "Yeah, but it's not a cure, is it? Not really anyway. It's a curse. It's unnatural for a vampire to have a soul...a conscience."
With that, everyone began to speak at once, arguing the pros and cons of restoring Spike's soul.
Finally, Xander had enough and shouted, "Enough! Stop it!"
When they had all shut up, Xander found the silence was even worse. Turning away, he walked over to the steps to the upper level and sat down wearily.
Willow glanced at Giles and Buffy and walked over to him, sat down beside him, and put an arm around his shoulders. "What do you wanna do?"
Xander blinked back the moisture in his eyes and took a shaky breath, shrugging his shoulders helplessly. "I…I don't know. What happened to Wil wasn't his fault, but…he's going to go through hell if we bring him back. I just don't know if it's the right thing or not."
No one spoke for a moment. Xander wasn't surprised. There wasn't much any of them could say to make the decision easier. Finally, he pulled himself together minutely and stood. "I need some time alone to think about this guys. I just can't...I...I'm sorry. I have to go."
With that he took off, leaving three very worried people staring after him.
TBC…
The next chapter can be found here: Chapter 33