01 - Deadly serious

Spike’s crypt

Spike leaps to his feet out of a peaceful slumber by the bursting of the door. What the hell? His nostrils flare and his demon rattles on the bars of the cage the soldiers put it into when his senses are overflowed. He smells blood, so much fear of losing and being lost, grief, sorrow, panic and helplessness.
Two heartbeats reach his ears like a long missed song; one drumming wildly and the other is weak and slowly. Fading.

He turns around and stills in shock. Just for a second. With golden eyes he takes in the picture which fate painted for him tonight.
A nearly crying slayer is holding one of her sidekicks, the whelp; they’re both smeared with his blood which is flowing freely out of a… well, that’s how it looks like when you rip away a vampire from his prey in mid bite …deep gash in his throat.

They stumble towards him and he needs all self-control to not give into his hunger and blood lust.
The blond woman puts the boy on a stone coffin and turns to Spike.
“Spike!” A plea for help. There is nothing to do for him anymore.
Thumbthumb… thumpthump… thump… thumpthumthump… …
“How thoughtful of you, slayer, to bring along a meal…” The vampire tries to sound indifferent but fails. Longing makes his voice rough.
The next moment his nose is bleeding from the fierce blow her fist gave to his nose.

“You can make him okay, Spike! Do it!” The slayer screams in tears.
“I am not a fucking doctor!” He replies and wants to sound nonchalant again but sounds helpless. “He is dying. It’s too late anyway.”
The slayer sobs loudly. “No! Not for you!” She grabs the bleached blond man’s black shirt and pulls him to her chest. Narrowing her eyes she hisses: “Turn him!”

Spike tries to back away from her, terrified by the craziness he can see in her eyes. “You’re completely nuts!” He whispers, turning his face away.
“Spike, do it! You have to do it! I can’t loose him! Do it NOW!” She screams.
“No, you stupid bint! He never would want to be a vampire! He hates them – me – Angel. I don’t do this.”
“What are you now? Mr. Morality?” She yells outraged and starts in a low flat tone to talk to herself: “Oh god, oh god. Why did I go in the shop? Why did I leave him alone? It’s all my fault. Just because they looked so pretty. Pretty pretty shoes. Lost them in the fight. Lost him. I can’t loose him. I can’t. I make it right again, Xander.” She suddenly states deadly serious and determined.

Spike isn’t fast enough to escape her iron grip. She howls him over to Xander. Spike struggles but can’t get away. With the strength of desperation she holds him in place. A knife comes out of nowhere. Spike gasps and wriggles around but his chip sends blue lighted warnings through his brain. No, he doesn’t want to hurt, but the chip misinterprets the scent of fear to die pouring off in waves from Xander and the presence of Spike’s demon so close to the surface. Nice thing the soldiers build, now working against them in a way. Bloody fucking hell – she is totally off the rocker.

The slayer, saviour of mankind, cuts deep in Spike’s wrist, down to the bone.
He tries to pull away but the chip and her working together are stronger.
“No! Don’t do that to him! Don’t fucking do that! You don’t have a bleeding idea what you’re starting! You bitch, you un-fucking-believable dumb bitch!”
Spike curses on and on but the slayer isn’t reacting in anyway. All that matters for her is ‘saving’ Xander.

The blood pours out of Spike’s wound and she presses the wound to Xander’s mouth. Spike hopes it’s too late. That the last heartbeat is gone along time but knows – hears the truth. The slayer is begging Xander to drink, to come back, not to die – which doesn’t make any sense at all. He is concentrated now on the inevitable task he has to perform. His only concern is the next offspring of his bloodline. The Aurelius Line. He just has to wait. You can’t withstand the ruby fluid – nobody can.

Xander’s lips move, he opens his mouth to take in the powerful blood, swallows, sucks and swallows, again and again.

The slayer cries out in relief and triumph and Spike is remembered about the old black and white flick “Frankenstein”. For her it’ll be creating a monster, something to kill when she realizes what she made Spike do. Perhaps it’s really about resurrecting a friend. An acquaintance she treated like a useless burden as long as he was alive and is now sorry about.
For Spike it’s creating (un)life, father a child and just like now building a family sense - stronger than any human could ever have - for eternity. …unless you happen to piss off a gipsy clan but still…

“Stop! It’s enough!” She barks feeling her control of the situation slip, feeling left out. She pulls on Spike’s wrist. He snarls at her and doesn’t move an inch.
“Stop now or I dust you!” She threatens checking her pockets mentally for a stake.
“It’s not enough, you bimbo!” Spike yells in game face. “You want him to be a fucking minion? Existing to serve you? Following your every command out of fear?” He growls loudly to show his disagreement.

She doesn’t get to answer when a group of six vampires rush through the broken door. She mustn’t. Spike saw the flicker of temptation in her eyes.
“Slayer! We’ll take you down!” The leader of the vampire announces. She instinctively starts to fight them; everything around forgotten.

Spike thanks whoever bought him this time window. The first time in all his years he is thankfully for a horde of vampires stomping into his living room. He isn’t hesitating; he makes a run for the lower level of his crypt, never removing his wrist from the suckling mouth.
The vampire is sure the slayer can handle them on her own – if not he can escape through the sewers.

Eventually he is downstairs, cradling the male body in his arms. The warmth the whelp once possessed is fading quickly. The sucking slows and stops like his sire once told him would happen if you create family and not just minions. Gently Spike takes his arm away, spreads blood on the big gash on the boy’s throat to close it, not wanting it to scar.

He listens closely to the whelp’s physical signals, waiting for the right moment to make him truly his.
The moment is near and he leans forward, praying he won’t be interrupted. His lips grace the delicate lukewarm skin on their way to the right spot. He’ll set his mark between the end of the shoulder and the beginning of the neck, where you can hide it if necessarily even under the collar of a t-shirt or show it proudly by wearing an open button-up. Just where I got mine.

He finds the perfect place, feels the last heartbeat against his lips and sinks his fangs in with the greatest care. Spike sucks one time only, taking not nearly half a mouthful of blood that’s not already tainted with the demon. He wants to know how Xander Harris tasted, wants to remember now and then the pureness and the sunshine that was him.

02 - Calling

Spike's crypt

After Buffy dusted the vamps as quickly as possible, she rushes down the ladder to the lower level of the crypt. Her eyes narrow when she takes in the two figures huddled in a dark corner. Xander sits with his back to Spike’s chest. The vampire is wrapped tightly around the brunette’s body, his mouth still nuzzling the fresh scar on his neck.
Scar?
That bastard!

“Spike!” She grounds out through gritted teeth, barely able to hold her emotions in check.
“Hm? Wot?” Spike replies sleepily, content purring making his voice slurp.
“Come on, Spike! I take care of him now.” A warm friendly tone bleeds into her voice effortlessly.
“No.” Dreamily whisper. “Mine.” Grinning to himself.
“Spike!” she whines. “Give him to me, please!”
“No!” Firmer now. His hand comes up, long pale fingers combing through dark silky curls. Carefully the whelp’s face is turned a bit and Spike’s mouth places soft kisses all over the brunette’s features. The fangs never ever touching the skin.
“Ewww!” The girl’s face scrunches up in disgust.
“Spike! Stop that! Ewww!”
“MINE.” Adoration, devotion and pride.
Still grinning, tightening his grip on the dead boy.
“MINE!”

“No Spike! Not yours.”
She goes to stand directly in front of them.
The vampire growls, lips curled up, fangs bared.
She ignores him, grabs Xander’s shoulders and with a little effort she is able to pull the boy towards her, kicks the vampire *hard* in the ridged face. He falls back, but gets to his feet immediately. Exhaustion and blood loss making him sway unsteadily.

Out of the depth of Buffy’s sleeve
a stake
appears in the slayer’s hand
and she pushes it
forward.
A cruel grin dancing on her lips.

Satisfied she shoulders the limb body and heads out of the crypt into the false light of dawn. She goes straight to the mansion because she knows the things she needs are there: chains, manacles, rings and columns to fasten them on.

Groaning the heap of limbs on the crypt’s floor twitches back to consciousness. Spike tries to stifle a cry of pain when the pressure on the stake shifts and it embeds itself even deeper in his chest. Bleary eyes open, a tremor of panic rocks the vampire’s body.

WHERE IS MY CHILDE?

whereismychildewhereismychildewhereismychildewhereismychildewhereis…

Spike instigates a loud keening sound,
something between
hopeless sobbing
and
helpless screaming.

Calling for a childe he knows is not even awoken yet.

He tries to stand but can’t make it to hands and knees, hovers between lying and kneeling. Shoulder and one cheek scraping on hard stony floor. He is so weak from the blood loss. Firstly from feeding his soon to be childe and secondly from the stake still inserted in his middle.

Even if he would be on the peak of his strength, what could he do against a slayer, against humans? He is not able to take his childe back, to protect it, save it from the *food*. chipchipchipchipchipchipchip…

Weak, unable to protect himself or his childe, he does the only thing he swore to himself some time around 1900 he would never do.
Mustering the last reserves of strength he possesses he grabs the stake hard, demon face exploding in pain as he howls while he drags it out
inch
by
hurtful
inch.

He opens himself up,
lays his inner self bare,
shows all his weakness,
his fear for his childe,
his frustration with his own helpless state
and lets it
race through the link,
pushes it to his family,
calls for help,
demands protection,
orders his bloodline to come to him.

03 - Links

L. A., Hyperion

„Cordy, do you now a better dry cleaning service than George’s?“ Angels holds his light green button shirt against the light of a lamp. „The Gnor’kl’s blood has still left a light purple…“ His eyes fly open wide. Shock and surprise making them bulge. Hands moving too his heart on their own account. Looking like a old man having a stroke, Angel goes down.

*Thunk* as his knee hits the floor hard and he starts to whimper.

*Thunk* as his fist slams into the wooden floor, destroying a tile while the whimper turns into growling.

*Wuumbwuumm* when Cordelia’s knees hits the floor, little cries accompaniing the waves of the vision phloughing through her brain. She quakes in pain, her hands clutching her head. Tears streaking down her face distorted by grief.

Seeing Cordelia cringing, hurting, Angel pulls himself together and crawls towards her, craddles the sobbing girl to his chest.
„Oh God, oh God, ohgod ohgodohgodohgod… he is…“ she sobbs.
„He will be okay. He gets through it. We just have to get to him. Fast!“ Angel wonders if visions now come with a portion pity for the hurt person.
„He is dead! DEAD!“ she screams only inches away from Angels sensible ears.
He flinches away. „Well, yes. More than a century, actually.“
„Huh?“ Big brown eyes staring up confused.
„Well, turned him 1880, makes it about one hundert and…“
„Huh?“ She interrups.
„Spike? My childe?“ Raised eyebrown. Brown eyes urging her to understand.
„WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SPIKE?“
„Because he… erm, your vision was not about Spike, was it?“ Biting his lower lip, trying to figure out, how he gets her to hurry so he can get to his childe.
„He was invisivision, not the mainplayer though and Buffy took care of him… finally.“
„Took care of him how?" Angel surpresses growling.
„Staked him.“ Shrugging.
„NO.“
„Well I saw her ramming the long wooden thing deep into his chest…“ trailing off when Angel growls loudly.
„He is not gone.“ Angel says, tries to puzzle out the whole picture.
„If you say so.“ A neatly shaped eyebrow rising, silently questioning Angels sanity.

„What else did you see?!“ Angel hurries her and gets a weeping Cordy in his arms again instead of information. Brushing away the words of compassion his soul whispers, he grabs her shoulders and shakes her. „Tell me what you saw. NOW!“ Eyes flashing yellow.
„He is DEAD!“ She eventually cries.
„He is not dead.“
„You haven’t seen him! He IS dead!“
„I would feel it when he were dead. Believe me, he is not dead!“ Losing patience.
„Why would you feel it when Xander was dead?“ Earnest puzzlement now.
„What? You talking about the stupid boy again?“ Groaning and biting his lip, trying not to slap her. „Fuck Harris! I care about Spike!“ Wide brown eyes, surprised by his own words. Angel hears them echoing in his head, lingering like cigarette smoke.

Cordy struggles to her feet, wiping furiously on the tears still spilling from her eyes.
“I have to go to Sunnydale.” Angel says and sits on the heel of his feet, hands on his knees, thights spread wide.
“Yeah, have to pack for the funeral. Did I ever wear the black shirt with the sweetheart neckline in Sunnydale or did I buy it here in L.A. already?
Angel sighes. “Cordy. Cordy! CORDELIA!”
She whipps around to Angel, takes in his formal looking stance. “Erm, Angel…”
“You’ve got two hours to get your stuff together. I go to Sunnydale and if you’re ready, you can come with me.” When Cordy opens her mouth to protest or to negotiate the time or whatever he cuts her short: “GO. NOW!”
The door slams shut loudly.

Alone at last, Angel is able to concentrate. Spike must be very desperate if he of all people calls the clan. Then Cordy’s vision of Buffy staking Spike after finding the annoying now dead youth. Something must have gone badly wrong. Some kind of misunderstanding maybe. Spike simply wasn’t able to hurt Xander, the chip was still in place as his childe told them with the call. Musing the possibilities around Angel realizes that he is just stalling. He had never given up the position of the clan’s head, so he had to deal now. And a demand of protection and help made by a childe was nothing that could be ignored, no. The lore of his clan simply said to follow the call and help and protect where it was needed.
Angel throws his head back, demon to the fore, he howls out his rage of the treatment of his childe and assures Spike that the head of the clan of the Aurelius blood line will follow the lore and come to him.

Somewhere

“Ooohh…” The darkhaired woman jumped up to a bench, her face to the sky, lips twisted in a semismile. “Miss Edith, can you hear him?” Twirling on one foot, the long skirt flowing around her pale legs. “He is calling for Daddy.” Laughing lightly to herself, jumping from the bench, cocking her head to her side, listening. “But we can hear him too! Can’t we, Miss Edith?” Turning in another direction, she stretches her hands out over her head to the sky screaming: “The sister can hear you! SHE CAN HEAR YOU!” Demon rippling to twist the pale face, glowing yellow eyes and sharp fangs. The head thrown back again, Drusilla starts a high pitched howling before she begins her journey to her little Spike to help him and meet Daddy again.

Somewhere else

Sitting at school, bored to death by the repeatly performed Tell-about-your-holiday-plans-rite, the young man looks out of the window. There are some leaves of the old tree that the wind picks up time and time again. He shoves them around, lifts them and plays with them endlessly. Not really the best to pass the time but… groaning, clutching at his heart. Panic rushing into his body with each breath he takes. Panting now. Hot agony. In him. On him. Around him. Everywhere but… A scream torn from his throat. The faint echo of what he feels. He has to go. Now.
Shooting to his feets, the chair flying back, all eyes on him, he runs out of the class room. Desperate to run home but not able to deny his body when it runs in the opposite direction.

04 - Blackend

Angel’s mansion

The mansion is like Buffy remembered it: dark, creepy and dead.
She shudders when she pulls the door shut. Finding a room with an iron framed bed, she lays Xander down.

Looking at her friend’s pale ~dead~ face, she forces herself to smile encouragingly.
“Didn’t lose you, did I? Saved you. Soon you’ll be our old Xand-man again, you’ll see. You just have to get back your strength.” Laughing at her own words. Xander and strength in one sentence. Her hand comes down to caress the still face, slides down, absently peeling of some of the flakes of dried blood.

“We don’t want you to be scared when you wake up. We don’t want you to have all this ~your~ blood on you, do we?” Her manicured fingers search for the first button, opening OpenOpening the next. And the next one. Until the shirt falls open, revealing a tanned muscled chest. The body of a construction worker, of a… ~no, not of a fighter… ~
Nevertheless, the muscles are build up by life, by doing hard work not superficially pumped up by mindless bodybuilding.
Fingertips trail along the slight curve of a pectoral, caressing a dark nibble.
Pinching it, wanting it to react, wanting Xander to be just sleeping, not… ~ don’t think about it don’t think about it – have to get Willow have to get Willow ~

Fastening leathern restraints around Xander’s ankles and wrists with more urgency than care, she leaves to seek out Willow.

Spike’s crypt

Pain. Hunger. Reassurance.

The first three things Spike feels when the thick blackness around him fades to grey.
“Sire?” A faint whisper. Bloodloss making him so weak, immobilizing him. He strains to get up, to get to his childe. Not awoken yet. Will not awake for hours. Time. Still time. Time for “Sire?” to arrive. But sun’s up. Dangerous. Body jerking in pain. Exhaustion numbing him again. His vision’s darkening again, blackness swallowing his thoughts, the pain he feels. Unawareness embracing him again.

L. A., Cordy’s apartment

A loud car horn rips Cordy out of her lethargic slump on the dining room chair.

“Dennis? Everything packed?” Two suitcases and a smaller bag float through the air, stopping just in front of the door, landing with a dump noise.
A mirror, make up and a lipliner appear only inches from Cordy’s reddened face. She manages a wobbly smile.
“Thank you, but I don’t think it would be a good idea to freshen it up now.” The three things disappear in the smaller bag immediately and a family pack of tissues are thrust into Cordy’s hand.
“Thank you, Dennis.” Sobbing again.

The car horn is howling angry now.

“God! I am coming! It’s not that it matters anymore. He is already dead. No one to be saved left!”
Grabbing her suitcases by the handles, pulling them after her out of the door while silently thanking whoever developed the little tires under them.
Coming to an abrupt halt shortly in front of the former beautiful car.

“Gross! What did you do to the car!” she squeaks, voice heavy with disgust.
“Get the fuck into the car!” Angel barks and lets the engine roar, signalling that he won’t wait for her.
Hurrying to get the luggage into the trunk and herself into the car, she forgets about *it*.
“Ewww…!” Looking down repulsed on the black sticky fluid on her hand.

Gritting his teeth, Angel gives a rag to her to clear of the paint. After wiping away some of the offending paint, she stops suddenly, holding the rag up in front of her gasping.
“That is your favorite shirt!”
“Was.” Angel comments coldly and stomps on the accelerator with barely restraint vampiric force.
“You looked gorgeous in it!” Angel growls now.
“At least you don’t combust while driving with all the black paint leaking down the windows and your car.”
“Cordy?”
“Yes, Angel?”
“SHUT UP!” The car jumps forward, the engine giving a tortured scream and the steering wheel creeks dangerously under the white knuckled grip.
Closing her mouth, Cordy turns her head away, stares outside with unseeing eyes. Lips quivering, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. The emotional weight of the last few hours too much for her to easily withstand a rejection from someone she loves.

Sunnydale

Running home, Buffy’s brain races through the many possible explanations for her deeds. Willow has to be happy to keep her friend. She wouldn’t want Xander dead, would she? Willow would have done exactly the same, wouldn’t she? Xander is her first ~ no, that’s me ~ well, her second ~ no, that’s Tara ~, well third best friend and she loves him as much as ~ I do. In a sisterly duty, adopted puppy way. Nobody wants their pets to die. ~
Arriving at the house, rushing up the stairs, throwing open Willow’s bedroom door without knocking, she blushes deeply while watching the red haired witch riding out the last waves of an orgasm giving to her by the blond head between her pale legs.

Only a second later Buffy finds herself blind.

Deep impenetrable darkness surrounding her.

“Buffy!” Willow squeals and both witches scramble to get on clothes. A deeply embarrassed Tara flees into the bathroom.
“Willow! Take it back!”
“W-w-w-what?”
“I am blind!”
“Oh my god Buffy! I am sorry! I… I… I just didn’t want to see you more than you already saw…”
Buffy cuts in. “It’s okay, I am sorry, shouldn’t have busted in like that. But can you please take it back now?”
“Yeah, sure.” Resolve face. “I just have to remember which spell I used…” She scrunches up her face. Buffy begins to tap her foot impatiently. “Did I say anything when you came inside?” A helpless expression settles on the red head’s face.

“Wiiilllllooooow!” Buffy whines. Grounding her teeth together, making a scraping sound which makes the witch shudder.
“I will fix that! No problem. I can do it. I just need some books and… I will have the solution easily and in no time!” She turns away, whispers to herself. “And god, I have no idea where to start. I mean it was the heat of the moment, so to speak, literally. I was kinda distracted and not on the spell with my tongue, erm, thoughts, and I can’t…”
Louder again. “Maybe it would be the best, to save time and to be sure to get it right the first time, perhaps, it would be good to, I mean,… We should ask Giles!?!”
Fleeing from a blinded but not incapable slayer into the bathroom to her still purple faced girlfriend.

05 - Welcome

Sunnydale

Sunnydale

Two hours later a black car rushes through the streets of Sunnydale. The passengers are both beautiful, both quiet and both suffering but their wounds are different ones.
Angel grits his teeth for the millionth time, teeth grounding noisily, it’svingving Cordy crazy but she doesn’t say anything anymore. She just stares out of the window, ignoring the vampire on edge.
Yeah, Angel is on several edges today.

He feels his true face emerging every so often and fights against it,
grounds his teeth to keep the human features in place.
He feels the bloodline’s call growing inside him,
hears his childe’s plead for help,
his o chi childe’s answer
and about fifty minions‘ subdued voices,
whispering their devotion and submissiveness to the head of the clan.
He hopes the minions won’t be too much of a problem. They only acknowledge and follow the head of the clan, tdon’don’t know about the soul or Spike’s chip.
Dru’s insanity is no secret.
And Darla is long dead.
Three members of the bloodline and none of them as intact as they should be.
None of them a real vampire.
But a clan nevertheless.

A raging anger rips through him and again he has to fight back the game face,
too late to not cut his lower lip with his fangs
but fast enough to not get the attention from the disheveled girl on the passenger seat.
Angelus, his demon, his energy is roaring at him,
roaring at the soul to get lost –
he wants out to play, wants out to hunt, torture and kill the person
who made his childe call out for the clan, for him.
The image of a blond girl.
Buffy, Angel knows.
Slayer is everything Angelus needs to know.
“Where did it happen?” He growls and Cordy jumps a little.
“A-a-a cr-crypt.” She stutters out under the intense scrutiny of the blazing golden gaze.
“Spike’s crypt?” Angelus kicks the soul hard – hitting the already guilty spot again and again. His childe should never have to live in a fucking crypt.

Cordy starts to scream when Angel’s car reels around the corner and runs over the cemetery gate. Unimpressed Angel steers the car to Spike’s crypt, parks it with the driver’s door only two foot away from the half open crypt’s entry.
The smell of his childe’s blood, even through the closed car eindow, and the vibrating in the bloodlink are overpowering Angel. He is out of the car and into the crypt without even a single thought about the blinding midday sun.
The picture, that greets him, lets him sink to his knees in pain.

Spike, his beautiful childe, without conscious, lying on his belly, face sideways. So pale, cheekbones sticking out, eyes closed, his tongue hanging out of his mouth, twitching limply, desperately lapping on the long dried blood on the dirty tiles.
The body hurt enough to go by instinct only.
Crawling over to his childe, Angel starts a whimpering, keening sound, reassurance for his childe and information for his clan.
He crawls over to the blond, cradles him in his arms. He rocks Spike back and forth, murmuring sweet nothings like “my beautiful boy, my baby boy, my favorite childe...”
His wrist is firmly pressed to Spike’s lips, nearly bruising his mouth with the urgency Angel feels to have the fangs biting in his flesh and his childe to drink from him the existence spending liquid.
Relief floods the older vampire when the first tentative movement of his childe’s lips caress his wrist.
“Come on, my boy. Drink your fill.” He whispers encouragingly. Spike moans and whimpers when he lets the fangs sink into the offered veins, tastes the first precious blood. Greedily he gulps down long swallows of sire’s blood, he hasn’t tasted for so long, too long.
The blond vampire feels his wounds closing, his weakness fading and when he is restored enough to be able to think again, he is on his feet immediately, wildly looking around, a never ceasing repetition of one word escaping his mouth: “Childe?”

Angel watches with a frown marring the forever youthful face, fearing the chip and now the injury eventually have driven his baby boy into madness.
“Come here, childe. Everything is alright. I am here now, your sire is here.”
Spike stops stunned, looking at the ensouled version of his beloved sire, eyebrow cocked, smirk in place.
“You finally gone round the bent, poof?”
Rage grips Angel so hard, he can’t stop himself even if he would attempt to.
One fast move, using all the enhanced speed he has and Spike is on the floor, Angel in full game face towering over him.
“Won’t you forget your place, boy!” He barks coldly.
Grimacing around his split lip, Spike says nothing.
After what feels like an eternity of staring each other down without anyone winning, Angel howls Spike to his feet by his collar, patting him down, ordering his clothes.

“Why did you call the bloodline?” No rage, no mocking, no emotion at all and Spike wonders who this is he is talking to. Not his sire, but close, not the crazy parody of Angelus from a few years ago, not the weak poof but souled nevertheless.
“Childe.” Spike gritts out.
“I’m your sire, dammit!”
Glaring, having no patience to deal with a slow minded, stupid Angel.
“*My* childe!”
“Stop it, Spike! You don’t have a childe...” Eyes growing wide in realization.
“He has still to rise.” Spike says and fixes his eyes on the floor not willing to get disapproval from the head of the clan this soon, even before his childe has a chance to proof his worth.
“Where is he?”
Spike shakes his head sadly, shrugs. “Dunno.”
“Why don’t you know where your childe is?” Yelling. “He will rise by sunset and he should not be without his sire! Don’t you remember how I stayed with you, only you, the first weeks...”
“Slayer took him away.” Spike interrupts harshly and shields his h as as good as he can against the memories his sire’s words bring up. He doesn’t want to think about the only time in his existence, alive and undead, he felt safe. Three and a half weeks of pure bliss aren’t even a good memory anymore, the bitter taste of lost and left they leave is too overwhelming to be ignored.

“Why would the slayer...” Angel trails of when realization sets in. “HARRIS? You turned Harris?” Wide wide eyes, golden ringed, barely caged mockery and awe.

He doesn’t see it, he keeps his gaze fixed on Angel’s shoes, waits for the blows, the outraged screaming of disapproval.

He is surprised, when the broad hand tenderly grabs his chin and lifts headhead. He looks into brown soulful eyes, contradicted by the dancing golden flakes.
“Damn good choice, boy.”

 

06 - Blind & Blood

Magic Box

Giles suppresses a groan when the doorbell jingles for the thousandth time. And it’s just early afternoon. He stands up like a man twice his age, feels older now than ever before. Maybe he should have accepted Anya’s offer to help him, but he was never someone who could admit needing help or even take it. He knows he could have avoided a lot of problems in his past if he had asked for advice but…

Confused, he takes in the three people at the entry. There is Buffy, his precious slayer, clutching so hard on Willow’s arm that the redhead’s face is contorted in discomfort, maybe even pain. Red, he calls her in his head. Not because he heard his countryman say it as an endearment but because he has to keep her ‘nameless’ sometimes so emotions won’t distract him in his judgment. Red has to be kept under close scrutiny, he can feel the power vibrating from her core and sometimes that power makes his skin crawl because it is not an entirely ‘white’ feeling he gets.

In contrast to the other witch, Tara, who is so bright red in her face that it nearly hes hes her girlfriend’s hair. Tara is in full control of her current abilities and the developing new ones. Her mother taught her well and Giles feel sorry that the male part of her family made the girl so insecure of herself.

“GILES!” Buffy screams at the top of her lungs and he jumps. Why should she cry out like that for him when he’s only a few paces… Oh my. Hectically he grabs his glasses and starts to roughly polish them in an attempt to calm himself. She is blind! The Slayer is blind! His mind runs through the routines the watcher council established for hurt or incapable slayers. Sure, he had abandoned the council but in this case the rules were clear and reasonable. The world, the hellmouth needs a fully functional Slayer.

“I’m here.” He chokes out, not able to look directly at the unseeing eyes of the girl whose death he just planned.
“Gi-iles. I’m bli-ind!” She whines and he finds himself faking surprise. “Oh really?”
“She did it!” Buffy spits out, pulls on Willow’s arm and shoves her in Giles’ general direction. The pale girl stumbles but catches herself before colliding with the older man.
Giles perks up, sensing hope. Maybe the spell can be broken and nothing is lost so far. Not his slayer, not his dreams of a glorified future for himsel
“H
“How…” he begins a question but is rudely interrupted by the bottle blonde.
“Tara was eating her out when…”
“Buffy!” He exclaims harshly, not used to the blunt phrasing out of her tiny mouth. He feels an uncomfortable tugging in his groin. Well, maybe not really uncomfortable…
“…when I came home! Into *my* home! I find them eating pussy in my mother’s bedroom! My *dead* mother’s bedroom!” Buffy screams again, she is upset, terrified by the darkness surrounding her and he understands. All too clearly he remembers the accident when Red’s ‘my will’ spell went wrong. How his ability to see faded more and more, how first text was unreadable, how objects got fuzzy and lost focus, how the impenetrable grey matter grew and got darker… He starts to polish his glasses again. It was a rather unpleasant experience.
“So you came into *their room* and found them in a … quite sexual position…”
“Quite sexual position?! Have you ever seen lesbians going at it?” Yes, Giles thinks, and his mind conjures up images from the latest porn he bought. “It’s disgusting!” Buffy murmurs eventually and Willow’s gasp is the only sound in the Magic Box’s eerie silence.

Tara, for the first time since entering, looks up, checking on her girlfriend’s reaction to the slayer’s admission. The blond witch, however, doesn’t seem surprised at all. Giles stores that fact away for later exploration.
“Buffy, I think you should try to calm down. Let me talk to Willow and I am sure I can solve the problem … with your eyesight.” Before Buffy can say another word, he grabs her wrist and drags her into the training room, makes her sit down on the old couch and tells her to wait until he comes back. Any protests are stopped by a little bit of Ripper blending in his voice. A voice that makes Buffy’s cheeks flush. Suppressing a “good girl” Giles goes back to the witches.

Spike’s crypt

Baffled, Spike looks up. “Sire?” He whispers, not able to believe his ears…
“Yes, m’ boy. I am here as the head of the clan because you called out for me. This is also me coming for you as your sire, m’ lad.” Angel sighs and cups the back of the blonde’s head.

“But you’re… and how…” Distracted by this tender touch off the other vampire, Spike’s voice fades away. Staring into whiskey brown depths, searching for truth or …something in Angel’s eyes to keep on to, to not lose his grip on the reality of nearly one hundred lonely years. There is nothing, just endless brown with dancing golden flakes like dust in a sunray. The big hand pulls softly, not rushing, not demanding and after some half-hearted resistance Spike leans against the broad chest, finds comfort and protection in his maker. Just for a moment, even feels safe.

“My boy…” Angel murmurs into dirty blond curls, not able to believe how he could go all this time without this, without his boy. His other arm comes around, hugging his childe to him so hard that Spike sobs nst nst his neck from the pressure of the powerful embrace. Suddenly Angel remembers the gashing stake wound and lets off some. Spike whimpers, careful not to break the skin, he gnaws on the cool pale neck with blunt teeth, begging for the most healing, most tasteful blood in this dimension.

Angel makes odd rumbling noises, at first broken and short but soon growing to a full purring. Too long since he purred for anyone, even refusing this comfort to himself because the memories it brings back to the surface are too close to long gone reality in the hours of false dawn. The time they used for the history and lore lessons, sometimes for fairy tale telling. William, his boy an eager fledgling, snuggled up against him, always purring, so content with just being with him. Purring which soon changed to little delighted moans when he used his own mouth to kiss instead of to tell rules.
Breathing in his childe’s unique scent deeply, memorizing this moment forever, all too aware of the changes which too soon will happen. “Go on.” He whispers, and moments later he feels the sensation of fangs piercing his flesh, washing away a century of solitude and abandon.

Spike drinks hastily, driven by hunger and fear of not getting enough. The taste of sire’s blood, unique and pure… the only taste he can recall instantly, having done so nearly every day since he was left to fight for himself and weighed down with responsibility for Dru. Not that he would ever admit it to anyone or even himself. He knows he can go on til he feels sated. Sire’s blood is rich and for childer the best nourishment, only a third of the fill a human can provide is enough to be sated completely. His body hums happily, goosebumps are all over his body, he feels energized and his senses are hyped. The stake wound closed over, not healed totally but even a vamp needs recuperation time.

Gently Spike’s rough tongue closes the wound like he never even needed to be taught. He was always a giving person, focused on the needs of others, never his own until…

The cat like licks get tinier with every stroke and Angel shudders, knows that this will most likely be the last time he feels the oddly enough still familiar sensation. Spike’s way of saying thanks. The blond pulls back, and however tender and slowly he does it, Angel is left with a feeling of coldness, of loss, like he never had known before.

“My childe. I have to find my childe.” Spike says, voice now steady, determined and Angel nods.
“We have to get some blood first.”
“Human.” Spike says with a voice which tells you not to even try to negotiate.
“Of course, fresh…”
“Oh no, you will so not go out there hunting for the evil one!” Cordy squeaks and both vamps flinch at the interruption.
“I thought about…”
“NO! Do you hear me! No. You will not support this…”
“If you don’t shut up right now, I will feed you to him by myself.” Angel growls, face flashing into his demon visage and back. Cordy jumps and tries to retreat, catching her heel in a crack in the tiles, she slumps to the ground sobbing helplessly. Without another look the two vampires leave the crypt and the sound of a car driving away is deafening to Cordy’s ears.

07 - Returns

L. A., Hyperion

„Hey Wes, yo man!“ Gunn calls out while he jumps down the few steps in the hotel’s lobby. Wes seems to be bowed down over someone on the sofa. He doesn’t react, doesn’t acknowledge Gunn at all. The black man felt a familiar tingle in his neck, that one he always felt when something was not quite right.

“Wes? You wanna introduce me to someone?” He says, forcing his tone to stay light and friendly while he slowly made his way over to the sofa. One hand behind his back, already grabbing the stake he kept in the waistband of his pants, body tense and pumped with adrenaline.

“Wes?” He again calls to to his unresponsive friend. No reaction. His hand comes up, nearly touching the smaller man’s shoulder when Wes suddenly spins around.

“GUNN!” The ex-watcher exclaims, face overly cheerful and eyes bright. Surprised, Gunn jumps back with a not very manly squeal. Wesley laughs and winks at him. Gunn’s eyebrows shoot up almost to his non-existent hairline, dark eyes open wide from shock to see a totally joyful, chipper man instead of the lately often depressed and usually closed up man.

~God he is stoned.~ is Gunn’s next thought which quickly dissipates when Wes steps aside to reveal a woman. Long black hair frames her pale face; she wears a wide black satin and velvet dress. Gunn ogles the lady up and down appraisingly, realising himself to be the complete opposite of her. She fixes her eyes to his and a smug grin comes to his face. The kind of grin that says ‘Come and get me’.

Suddenly Wesley’s elbow nudges the taller man hard in his side; Gunn looks at him as he blushes and bows down to the dark lady.
“Princess,…” he murmurs, his eyes fixed on the floor.
“Oh, my beautiful little ape.” She drawls soothingly, a gloved hand tangles in Wes’ dark hair.
“Ape?!” Gunn squeaks, suppressing laughter.
“Shh, shhh!” She hushed, a finger coming to her lips in a universal gesture.

Gunn feels her gaze intensify, feels the dark unlimited deep pools burn into him as if searching for something, as if she waits for something to happen. Gunn stares back with equally dark eyes, not backing down from the battle of wills he seems to participate in. Dru stares harder and Gunn cocks an eyebrow expectantly. She looks confused now and unbelieving for a moment then her eyes flash and her dark red lips curl up in a delighted smile.

“You’re the rock!” She shrieks and claps her hands together which makes Wes jump.
“Thanks. You weren’t that bad either.” He flips back. “And actually it’s ‘You rock!’ nowadays.” Gunn informs her and the Princess’ face scrunches up in a chaotic mix of emotions. She cocks her head to the side, grabs Wes’ hair hard and makes him look up in her face. Wes moans and arches his back, bares his throat. Gunn shifts - uncomfortably - affe by by that image.

“You rock?” She asks him, disbelief clearly in her eyes. “When did they get rid of verbs and articles? Who killed them?” Her face blooms in delight. Giggling she sways back and forth, her eyes and fingers pointing at Gunn, Wes and herself in turns.
“You rock! … You little ape! … Me…” Her hands come up to her head, she holds her temples as if trying to keep her brain from exploding but her face is beautiful with pleasure. “Daddy… shhh, shhh, won’t tell…y toy to… We have to go to Daddy… Oh!” She jumps up, not caring when her knee makes -for him- painful contact with Wesley’s chin. She spins around herself several times, screeching and laughing and singing at first incoherent words.
“rbosbaknfamilyourbosnfamilourboysbak…” She comes to a sudden stop, grabbing Gunn’s collar from where he kneels over Wesley and pulls him up with little difficulty.
“You drive. Me carry. We Daddy. Boy back! Kitten Vamp.”

Somewhere

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous to hitchhike?” The elderly woman asks; her voice barely audible through the little open slot of the driver’s window. The young man with the unruly dark hair nods. “But I have to get to… a friend, I think…he needs… help.” He says and his eyes beg the woman to understand. She winds down the window a little more and looks intently at him.
“My name is Mrs. Peters. Who are you, young man?”
“Stephen Katwright.” He scrambles to get out his wallet, shows his identification card to the grey haired lady with the cautious eyes.
“Alright.” She makes a gesture that indicates he can get in the car. The sound of the central locking coming undone emphasises this.
When he sits on the passenger seat, staring out the window, trying to not show how anxious and nervous he is; she asks him: “I am going to Sunnydale. Stephen, where is your friend?”
“Don’t know, I’ve just have this feeling… I am needed somewhere in this direction…” He points forward with long index and middle finger and shrugs.

Sunnydale, Angel’s car

There is a not quite uncomfortable silence between the two vamps in the car. This situation feels strange but at the same time familiar, the patterns of a ‘family life’ one hundred years ago feel reassuring to both of them and Spike needs this support right now. Angel drives, eyes flickering every so often over to his long lost childe. Shoulders slumped he already dreads the moment the new offspring of his bloodline awakes. If he ehad had a chance to get his boy back… he loses it the moment *his* childe opens his eyes. Xander will instantly fall in love with his maker, demon recognizing demon, a unity for eternity.

Then the witches will rush to ‘help’, maybe even Giles, and ensoul the poor boy, trap him forever between oversized morals and demanding instincts. Staking him would be even gentler, let him have one or two kills, enjoy the hunt, the bite and the last heartbeat of a victim, and then dust him…

Either way Spike will lose the only person that loved him comple wit without…

“Sire?”

Angel swallows hard and suppresses the urge to reach over, stroke the delicious taut inner thigh. Once, one hundred years ago, they didn’t need words. Their link was so strong, feelings and thoughts were laid open. Body contact was established whenever possible. Now he feels numb, like he did when he was human that one day. In spite of what everyone might have thought, it wasn’t the return to his vampiric nature which had started the extended broodsionsion. It was the numbness and disconnected feeling he’d had towards his family whilst he had been human that had frightened him, and brought to the surface that which he feared most: being alone.

“Chi-Spike?” He grabs the steering wheel a little harder, knuckles turn white.
“We’re not going to hunt some human down, are we? Xan wouldn’t like that…” Spike’s head suddenly flies around, blues eyes wide with realization; he stares openly at the darker vamp. Angel uses all his will power to not look at his boy, to not reach out to him.

“Bloody hell. He would like that, he would go hunt and drink down whatever he can get…” Spike’s voice drifts off when he loses himself in plans of how he could take advantage of having an unsouled, unchipped childe. At least, that’s what Angel presumes. If he too had drunk from his childe to establish the link between them, he would see the pictures in Spike’s mind and the feelings of sadness and regret accompanying them.

Dawn –
throat ripped open,
blood all over her,
big blue eyes staring focus-less to the ceiling.
Her blood too powerful for a fledge to withstand.

Red –
turned into something between a minion and a zombie,
Xan much too young to do it properly.

Glinda -
innocence destroyechaichained to a bed,
body exhausted and blood crusted from torture and rape.

The Watcher -
eyes wide with fear and sudden insight,
glasses rammed down his throat,
fingers broken and words from years of pent up frustration carved into his chest.
“Who can read and write and quote better now?”

Buffy - Angel’s voice rips the younger vamp away from the only one of his thoughts he had really loved to imagine.

“Spike, we’re here.” Spike looks up, Willy’s bar. Of course.
Side by side, the Master Vampires enter the bar which goes eerily silent immediately. De scr scramble away or try to make themselves invisible. No-one is dumb enough to challenge these two in any way – Angelus and his favourite childe William the Bloody, united again.

Willy is hiding behind the bar. He should know better, Angel thinks, his heart is beating so loud and fast even someone without supernatural senses should be able hear it.
“Your entire supply of human blood, now.” Angel purrs and Spike grins delighted. He knows what this tone of voice means, knows Angel is short tempered when he maintains this calm unthreatening facade.

To Spike’s disappointment, Willy and the rest of the customers seem to know it too. The human gets to his feet and runs in the backroom, only a few seconds later he appears again and a big cool box of blood is pushed over the bar directly into Spike hands. “Thanks mate!” The blond purrs in the same tone his sire used which earns him a frown from Willy and a choked off chuckle from Angel. The blond glares at Willy, eyes flashing golden for a second, then grins, delighted by the bar owner’s scent of fear at the dark vampire.

“Right then, Sire.” Angel nods to him, amused like a human dad over his offspring’s behaviour and follows him out the door. Whilst the customers and Willy are letting out a sigh of relief, he sticks his head back in through the door and mouths: “I’m back!”

08 - Closer

Magic Box

Giles comes back into the main room of the Magic Box, eagerly scrubbing on his glasses. This is all a bit strange, even for him as a hellmouth approved watcher. Willow is crying, her head buried into Tara’s shoulder. The blond witch rubs comforting circles on Willow’s back and whispers reassuring nonsense. As if anything could be good on the hellmouth. Giles suppresses rolling his eyes.
“So what happened?” He asks, trying not to sound too clinical but failing as always when he has to deal with the lesbian witches. He is never sure how to treat them, feeling neither a father figure nor a comforting strong man in their presence.

Willow turns around and looks up at him, eyes red from crying. “Did you know she was thinking like that about us?” She sobs and Giles takes a deep breath. He really doesn’t want to deal with those kinds of questions and answers. He falls back into the half-lie he used before.
“Willow, I am quite sure, Buffy is only a bit angry and afraid. People sometimes say bad things when they are under pressure and full of fear.” Giles notices the look Tara gives him, a kind of disappointed understanding.

“Sweetie, why don’t we try to work this out… What spell do you think you used?” She lets her blond hair fall in front of her face when Giles nods reassuringly.
“I…I don’t know, everything happened so fast… I just wanted her to not see more than she already had…” Big green eyes lock with Giles, begging guidance and forgiveness.

“We’ll work it out, sweetie, don’t worry.” Tara says and sounds sure but Giles knows that it’s a façade. “Right, Mr. Giles?” Suppressing a groan, Giles averts his eyes and nods… “Of course. There will be something in the books, maybe intuitive magic or wishes or just plain blinding spells…” He turns away and goes directly into his office where, shielded from the eyes of the two witches, he takes a few deep swallows of the bourbon he has hidden there. Taking a look at the nearly empty bottle and the empty donut wrapper on his desk he wonders: “Where the hell is Xander?”

Sunnydale, city limits

“SunnydaleHELL” read the sign the car passed just after sunset and Stephen shudders. The lady looks at him strangely but doesn’t comment on it. The whole drive was very quiet. The young man was dozing on and off, switching between sleep and exhausted wakefulness while the lady drove, evenly humming to the soft classical music on the radio. Now Stephen is fully awake. A sense of foreboding settles deep in his bones and he feels prickles of a thousand eyes on him. But that’s nonsense. It’s dark outside, though it never frightened him. He could see clearly at night. There was nothing outside frightening him.

Somewhere between L. A. and Sunnydale

“Hey Wes, I really don’t think that this is a good idea… and what are you… Wes, fuck!” Gunn’s truck jerks to a halt and the black man jumps out and run to the passenger door. Ripping it open, he tries to drag Wes away from the woman nurturing herself from his wrist. Wes moans and struggles, but not to get away from her. “Fuck, Wes, man!” Gunn yells helplessly and the vamp stares at him with laughing eyes, her fangs still deeply embedded in Wes’ flesh. Finally she lets go of him, obscenely licking her lips and even letting out a little burp. Gunn cocks an eyebrow at this, the expression on his face somewhere between disgust and amusement. The vamp starts to giggle, rubbing her belly contentedly.

Eventually Gunn is able to gather up Wesley and he carries him to the back of the truck, seating him on the loading platform. He snaps his fingers in front of Wes’ pale face until the man locks his glazed eyes on him. Grinning manically Wes exclaims: “I was bitten!” and Gunn rolls his eyes. “Glad you noticed, man!” He reaches for the first aid kid which is secured to the back of the driver’s cab. “What’s going on Wes? Come on man, talk to me!”
“Isn’t she beautiful?” Wes murmurs and closes his eyes, sighing deeply.
“Yeah, sure she’s not bad, but Wes, she is a vamp!” Gunn throws his head back in frustration. “One of the things we fight, you remember?” He gets out a bandage and scissors, then reaches for the other man’s injured arm.

“Yes, yes… vamp, I know… but she is different… “ Wes starts to gesture while explaining what Gunn can’t begin to understand. Gunn’s hand follows Wes’ hand’s movement, fingers closing around thin air in an attempt to grab the errant limb. “She is a childe of him and we have to go to him… A prophecy about… I don’t really understand what about but… we have to find him. Daddy knows what to do.” Wesley rests both hands on his knees, not caring if blood drops from his injury on to his trousers. “Daddy?” Gunn asks and uses the opportunity to grab Wes’ hand and pull it under his arm while turning his back to the sitting man. Wes’ chest and face is pressed against Gunn’s muscular back, his arm trapped between Gunn’s side and elbow. He struggles a few minutes before giving in and let’s his other arm s aro around his ‘nurse’. Raising an eyebrow at the slim hand now resting on the inside of his thigh, a bit too close to his groin than Gunn is comfortable with. Stoically he starts to bandage the wound on Wes’ wrist, ignoring the slight stirring of his cock.

“My Rock… my ape… we Daddy. Now!” A voice singsongs and Gunn hears himselfwer,wer, wondering why he follows this obviously demented vamp’s instructions. “Just a moment and we can go on!” Under hreatreath he murmurs: “Hellmouth here we come!”

Sunnydale

Cordelia feels awkward on her way to the Magic Box. No, not because of the vamps or other creatures lurking in the dark shadows, waiting for the right moment to attack. The humans she may be confronted with are her main concern. She didn’t even have a mirror to check her looks, having left her purse in Angel’s car, but she is sure she looks terrible after all the crying she did in the crypt. Anyway, now she is on a mission. She has to go to the Magic Box as fast as she can to warn the others that Angelus is back and reunited with his favorite childe. And that they are out, hunting down humans to fill their bellies with hot, fresh blood and … ewwww. Flinching back from her own thoughts she increases her tempo, nearly jogging now to her destination.

Sunnydale

Stephen watches row after row of houses go by through the window. The woman driving the car gets nervous. It’s time for him to get out of the car or he would end up at her house.
“Son,” she begins, sighs and slows down the car. “we are nearly at my house. I am terrible sorry but I can’t take you any further. You have to find another way to get to your friend now.”
Stephen nods, the longish strands of dark brown hair falling in front of his eyes. He is unsure and clueless in that moment. The ‘signal’ he got has faded away to almost nothing, leaving him without a proper direction. He knows, feels, he is almost there, wherever there is, but he can’t decide which way to choose now. The car stops and he looks at the Lady, thanking her and steps out of the car. “Take care! This is an awful place to be out after dark!” she shouts before pressing the button for the central locking once more.
Yeah, Stephen thinks to himself when the car rushes away, red lights fading in the distance, nice you left me here alone.

Magic Box

“You have to remember!” Giles yells frustrated, not able to ain ain his anger at the stupidity and carelessness with which the witch uses magic. Hours of research in books and phone calls to several affiliates had been without result. Everybody in the Magic Box is on edge. Giles wonders suddenly if the continual reddening of Tara’s face is unheal
“
“I really don’t know! I just wanted her to not…!”

“Yes, yes! You said that about a thousand times now! That does not bring us any further!” The watcher slumps down on a chair, polishing his glasses with the edge of his blue shirt. He is glad, Buffy fell asleep a while ago, her constant whining nearly got him to get one of his gags out and force her into silence. His mind now sends him images of a gagged slayer, eyes wide with lustful fear and forced submission… he swallows hard, tries to concentrate back on the important matter.

He looks over to the witches on the love seat, Tara has dragged Willow in a hug, comforting the guilty girl and soothing her with body contact. Giles mind runs again off to the naked version of this imagery and he shakes himself vigorously. Bloody hell!

The door suddenly flies open, the bell over it chirping annoyingly loud. Though it’s nothing in comparison to the squeaking cheerleader’s tirade that starts immediately with her dramatic entrance.

“Angel is back. I mean Angelus is with Spike. They are hunting! BLOOOOD! And they left me in the crypt. And can I say yuck! And my purse is in the car. Yesgel’gel’s car! You sooo have to see what he did with it! Paint! And I am so sorry about Xander! I mean we were like …together some time back and did I mention that ANGEL is…”

“HERE.” The deep sonorous voice stops Cordy and all eyes turn to the back entrance where the two vampires stand side by side.

09 - Connections

Magic Box

Buffy runs into the main room of the Magic Box when she hears Angel’s voice. She follows her instincts and stops only a foot away from the vampires. “Angel!” she sobs, sighs, then after a dramatic pause, she throws herself at... Spike.

Willow makes a strangled sound and Angel suppresses a chuckle. Spike though, looks kinda disturbed down at the blond girl clutching at him in desperation. “You’ve lost weight.” Buffy says and it’s the last straw for Tara, she starts giggling rather loudly.

“Oh, oh, I can see again!” Buffy squeals joyfully and looks up at the person she’s holding on to. Who is Spike. “GAH!” She splutters and jumps back. Maybe she would be embarrassed about her faux pas but the happiness about her returned sight overlays every other emotion. She turns around, screaming out: "I can see again. There is Giles and Cordelia? And Willow and Tara and this time they are not having hot, sweaty, lesbian sex!" Tara’s face flames up again, embarrassed beyond reason, she retreats a few steps in an attempt to make herself invisible.
“Oh no! NONONONONONO! Take it back! I didn’t do anything this time! Willooooow!” Buffy whines and everybody looks at her when she spreads her arms wide, trying to get a feeling for her surroundings.

Spike chuckles... "Hot, sweaty, lesbian sex?" he waggles his eyebrow at his sire, the pink tip of his tongue rubbing over a sharp canine tooth sensually. Angel shivers, when this little motion sends a tingle to his groin, he knows immediately what Spike is referring to, thinking back to long gone times when he watched Darla and Dru entwined on a bed, more often then not with the fledgling William in the middle; when the girls were either asleep or had gone out hunting and only his boy remained on the silken sheets, wantonly spread out for him... naked flawless body, baby blue eyes begging, cock purple and leaking... violently Angel tears himself back to reality, adjusting his hardness as subtly as possible. He focuses back on the people in the room. "Where is Xander?"

Angel’s mansion

Darkness.
Coldness.
Numbness.
Hunger.
Sire???

Sunnydale

Stephen is wandering aimlessly through small alleys of the town. He keeps to the shadows, not wanting to be even more visible to the many eyes he feels travelling over his body again and again. He moves almost noiselessly, the pounding heartbeat is the loudest sound emitting from his body. Suddenly he feels something resembling a sharp nudging nst nst the back of his spine. The sensation of a thousand bugs crawling up his neck makes him whimper and arch his back. The ‘pull’ he felt before, the need to get somewhere fast to… help or something, is back. He just follows his instincts and starts running in the direction of the outskirts of the town.

Magic Box

Buffy squeaks suddenly and slumps down to the ground. When the watcher rushes towards her, Angel and Spike catch a whiff of underlying arousal, sharing a look, needing nothing more to know what the other thinks right now.

Willow comes forward, coming to a halt before Angel, cocking her head while looking deeply in his eyes, then smiling brightly. Waving Tara over to confirm what Willow found out and Tara nods,
shyly smiling at the bulky vampire. Spike looks questioningly at Angel but the older vamp pretends not to notice it.

Suddenly the front door flies open and slams into the wall with a loud crash. Cordy lets out a high-pitched scream. Buffy jumps to an upright position and people scramble for things to use as weapons. As if sharing one body, three vamps duck their heads and scrunch up their faces.

“Daddy!” The woman in the black dress shouts, jumping in joy and dances over to the other members of her family. About halfway there, she stops directly in front of the slayer, whose senses are on total overload with the close proximity of three vamps of such an age, who are all related. Her slayer senses prove themselves useless when confronted with three signatures so similar, they merge together, alarming her in turns to the presence of one, two or three vamps, sometimes all around her, sometimes backing away. Dissed,sed, Buffy launches forward, gets hold of rustling fabric and uses her bodyweight to bring the Vamp down with her. “Stake! Stake! I need a stake!” she screams frantically until she becomes aware that the body under her is not moving.

“Ooooh poooor slayer… all dark. Frightened little lamb… Has the light lost you or… did you lose the light?” Dru whispers, only loud enough for superiorly sensitive ears to hear and Buffy herself. Hastily hiding the helplessness the slayer feels behind a wall of anger, she spits out one word “Drusilla!”
Drusilla’s face melts into sweet smiling innocence, one hand comes up and caresses the slayer’s cheek tenderly. “Yes, my lamb…” She murmurs “It’s me.” before she twists the slayer’s neck.

Two screams mingle into one when Drusilla pulls away violently, long fingernails leaving deep angry scratches on Buffy’s neck.

Angel groans and Spike crashes down onto one knee gasping for unneeded breath.

Giles sees his opportunity and tackles the keening Drusilla, holding her to the ground. He has no stake and he wouldn’t risk trying to get near her with one. Giles is not dumb. He sees the change in Angel and knows he would tear him apart if he were to try to kill one of his childers.
Wesley rushes to Drusilla who is now struggling to get away from Giles, wailing out her frustration.

Spike’s hand comes up and clutches onto his sire’s underarm. Angel just nods and grips Spike’s wrist, pulling him up and of thf the shop whilst all eyes are on the brawl around his only female childe.

“Are you okay?” Angel asks when he shoves the dazed Spike into the passenger seat of his GTX.
“Yes, I think I will be. Soon. It’s just…” Spike trails off searching for the right word.
“Overwhelming? Amazing? Painful when a new childe is connected to the bloodline?”
“All of the above?” Spike offers weakly and then gets serious. “Do you think they’ll be okay?” Angel looks over at Spike whose expression holds earnest concern for both parties in the Magic Box. Distracted by his own musings about the changes in his boy which he seems to discover every other moment, he goes around the car and seats himself behind the steering wheel. Then he answers: “Sure. They have a slayer.”
“Who is blind.”
“Against a slightly crazy vamp.”
“Hey!”
“Hush Spike, I made her, I love her like she is. I’m not always patient but…” Spike interrupts him,
“And two watchers…”
Angel groans and adds: “One drooling all over an incapable slayer and the other enthralled by a psychic vamp…”
Angel chuckles and Spike continues with his list.
“Two witches, one powerful…”
“But weak minded.”
“The other even more powerful but too…”
“Embarrassed to use it…”
“I was going for shy! Never mind. A cheerleader with visions and the street fighter who hates vamps.”
“But works for one and now follows one without even being enthralled…”

Spike cocks his head and looks at Angel with a long sideways glance.
“You’re enjoying this!” He exclaims finally, waiting for the answer with uselessly held breath.
“Of course… Who wouldn’t?” Angel flashes Spike a very Angelus-y smirk – amusement with just a hint of fangs - and starts the engine of his convertible.
“The mansion?” Spike sighs, chiding himself for not thinking about that location sooner.
“For sure. My mansion.”

Sunnydale

Slowly now Stephen creeps closer to the old, towering building. It looks abandoned but not derelict, left behind but not forgotten. The cramping feeling inside his belly that something majorly important will happen soon increases and makes his breath come in short intervals.
The thick wooden door is ajar, so he pushes it open, hiding behind the door frame just in case someone is inside, just waiting to attack.
When nothing happens he tiptoes inside the hall, his senses on alert, trying to figure out where the ‘pull’ he feels comes from.
Upstairs.

Without further inspection of the lower room he cautiously sneaks up the wide staircase to the first floor. All doors are closed but one, so he goes directly towards it. He comes to a stop in the threshold, his heart speeding up when he takes in the still form on the bed.
A man.
Tied to the bedposts.
Not moving.
With a harsh intake of breath he rushes over to him, shaking the unmoving person.
No reaction.

As trashy as if in a cheap horror movie, Stephen thinks, the clouds move and silver moonlight shines through the decayed curtains onto the impassive face. He raises a hand to the man’s forehead and the next second he is in the corner farthest away from the bed, trembling from shock.
Cold. Cold. Cold. coldcoldcoldcold….

The blood rushes so loudly in his ears that it overlays all other sounds, except the pounding sound of his heart pumping in top speed. He feels dizzy and helpless. Routines fail him.
What do you do… whatdoyoudowhatdoyoudowhatdoyoudo…

Mobile phone!
Numb fingers search in his pockets until finally they collide with the hard plastic cover and he gets it out, his shaking fingers dialing the three numbers that promise help.
The silence between the beeping tones, uselessly unaffected by his panic, seems to stretch forever, until someone takes up the receiver and answers: “Sunnydale Police Department…”

10 - Caught

Angel’s mansion

“Do you hear that?” Spike asks vamping out. He doesn’t need a reply from Angel, the *nervousworryanxiety* coming through the link is enough.
“Just one human.” Angel comments nevertheless and grips Spike’s collar, stopping him from rushing into the mansion. Spike snarls at Angel, on edge with concern for creation.
“I. Have. To. Go. In. There. NOW!” The restrained vampire growls.
“I. Know.” Angel answers, using his sire voice in an attempt to calm his instinct driven childe down. Spike takes a deep breath and… tries to break away once more, without success. “Sire!” he pleads.
“I’ll go first, you follow. No tricks.” Angel orders and lets go of Spike’s duster after the blond nods his agreement. ~ …chipchipchipchip… ~ His thoughts circle again and he knows without Angel he is as helpless as a kitten if he has to defend his childe and himself against one ~ bloody ~ human.

Silently the two vampires move inside the hall, pausing only for a second on the beginning of the staircase to reach out with their heightened senses, detecting no other being in close proximity.
One of the stairs creaks under Spike’s weight and he flinches, cursing his lack of concentration. Angel turns his head and looks at the other Master vampire with a cocked eyebrow, mocking him with a challenging look. ~Bloody poof!~ Spike thinks, and they complete the ascent noiselessly.

Stephen stops rocking back and forth when he hears the old wooden stairs creak.
From his corner, he watches the bleached blond when he steps into the room. A familiar but unfamiliar pattern starts in his head, he does not only look at the other man, he registers. Size, weight, build, possible strengths and weaknesses. Comparing them to himself and figuring out some kind of possibility to win against him. Then his immaturity takes over again and he thinks "Crazy hair for an officer.." just before the tingle of warning… or recognition… starts in his neck. The face drenched in silver white moonlight jerks in his direction and glowing yellow eyes… wait a mo… stare at him unblinkingly, a low warning snarl escaping the slender throat. Goosebumps tickle up his spine and if he wasn't trembling so hard as to make his teeth nearly rattle the other may have been able to detect the bone deep shudder going through the boy.

Another man, bulky in his appearance, dark where the other is light, enters the room and Stephen fixes his eyes on him… what the fuck? The tingle in the back of his neck is so insistent now it feels like knives slicing through his skin.

Angel comes to a complete stop as soon as his eyes meet the ones of his son. ~ Connor? Connor here? Why? What? connornonoherenono… ~

Angel’s mansion, Xander

~ coldcoldcold
heartbeat… thumpthumpthump… not right.
not supposed to be here. heartbeat's not supposed to… what?
hunger hunger hungerhungerhunger
smells overwhelming him, hurting him…
panic sweet but…
hungerhunger..
decayed rotten musty old not like…
frustration bitter.
and thumpthumpthumpthump… getting on his nerves… thumthumthumthumthum…
don't like don't like dontlikedontlikeDONTLIKE
hungryhungry… sire? sire? siresirehungrysire… ~

The mansion

The form on the bed moans and for the first time, the link opens ~ siresirehungrysire ~ slamming through it. Spike's complete attention is on his childe now. He makes to go over to him but is stopped by the youth nearly flying across the room and barring his way.

"Bugger off!" Spike growls, full vamp visage inches from Stephen's face. His heart is pounding so hard in his chest, that at any other time, Spike would have liked to rip it out of his chest to see its last furious hammering in his hand but now it's all chipchipchip… sending blue lightning bolts for the thought alone.. Ignoring it, he leans in more, intruding into Stephen's personal space mercilessly, trying to impress, try to bluff his way to his childe.

"No!" Stephen grits out and tries to make himself look bigger, pushing his chest out and dragging his shoulders back. "Show me your BADGE!"

"Badge?" Spike spits unbelievingly.

"Yeah you know… cops have…"

"Cops?" Spike asks, frowning and raises his hand to just push the weird youth out of his way but Angel moves with unexpected speed, tagging Spikes arms behind his back painfully. "Don't you dare touch him!" Angel yells and Stephen jumps back, shocked by the loudness and determination in the voice, and yes this one has the monster face too.

~ Master vampire – Sire ~ Spike's demon acknowledges and he keeps still for a second, waiting for Angel to… do anything but Angel doesn't, can't. He is still almost immobilized by the sudden appearance of his son, his mind following loop after loop of thoughts, coming up with nothing.

The figure on the bed *siresirehungrysire* moans and nothing matters for Spike anymore. *My childe. Mine. Coming. Coming.* He struggles to get free and is on the bed, hugging Xander to him in the next second. *here now. safe.*
*siresirehungrysirecoldcoldsire*

Angel and Stephen just look at the reunion, different emotions playing over their features. Angel gets a hint of what goes on on Spike's side of the link, inwardly smiling to himself.

"I thought he was dead." Stephen murmurs, voice strangely high, and Angel feels alarm bells going off in his head. He turns to his only alive offspring, eyebrow raised in question. "I came here" Stephen pants, panicking. "and found him and I thought he was dead and I called the cops 'cause that's what they tell you. If you witness a crime or something you have to call them… have to call the cops… they fix it… somehow…"

Inwardly Angel groans and when he hears the faint sound of sirens he knows he has to do something.

Magic Box

"Dru suddenly squeals and laughs, singing something about dead kittens awakening and a new daddy. It triggers a fuzzy memory in Giles' brain but he can't get it clear and shoves it away for now.

Angel’s mansion

Stephen cocks his head to the side and his face brightens up. "They are coming!" He yells excitedly. "They are coming! I'll go down and guide them up, I'll go and wait for them!" He says and makes a dash to the door but Angel stops him with a hand on his wrist and yanks him back. Instinctively Stephen turns out of the half embrace and jerks his arm up, his elbow connecting hard with Angel's jaw, making the head fly back. Golden eyes flash in the half dark and Angel roars at the struggling youth. "Lemme go, I have to get down and sorry maout out that, wasn't meant, just lemme go, they'll know what to…"
"No, you'll do what I…"
"Fuck off. Lemme go." Stephen's knee comes up and Angel avoids that but then the heel of Stephen's docs connects with his left toes and Angel howls in pain. Angelus rips to the surface, unusually upset by this respectless behavior of one of his and he curses and barks at the youth to “keep the fuck still!"

*loudloudloud don'tlike don'tlike*
*alright safe here, all safe here hush, childe*
*hungrycoldhungrysirecoldhungry*
*soon childe. open your eyes first, will you childe?*

"Who the hell do you think you are?" Stephen screams right back and finally Angelus and Angel lose their temper and Stephen is knocked out with one well placed, controlled right hook to the temple. The dark vampire catches him and looks around helplessly.
~ Wonderful Angel. And now? ~ he asks himself.
"Spike!" He hisses. "We have to get going!"
After a long moment of no response from the blond, Angel repeats his command in sire's voice and Spike manages to look up.
"How the bloody hell do you want to 'get going'?" He spits at his sire, his eyes pointing at his childe's slumped, still unconscious form against his chest.
"Fuck, we just…" He trails off when the sirens' sound is fullfully loud and car doors are opened and slammed shut. "We just have to… the window! Open the window."
Spike growls.
"What do you think they'll do if they" Angel nods in the direction of the door. "get here? Finding you with a dead man in your lap?"
Spike growls but gets up, carefully laying Xander down on the bed again. He opens the window and looks down. Two storeys, about fifteen feet down. Bloody hell.
"How are you…"
"I'll go down, you throw them, I'll catch them."
"Them?"
"He has to come too." Angel tightens his grip on the limp body.
"And why the hell *does* he hto cto come too?"
Opening his mouth to explain, Angel decides against it and just scratches a fingernail over the boy’s neck, a bit of blood wells up and he scoops it on his fingertip, pressing it urgently against Spike's lips which – trustingly – open up, as if one hundred years of estrangement never happened.

When the taste of fresh blood hits Spike's tongue and fills his senses he recognizes it instantly. *bloodchilde* slams so hard through the link that Xander and Angel groan.
"Why can't I catch them?" Spike asks still staring disbelievingly and in awe at his sire.
"Because your chip will fry your brain right after you caught Connor."

"This is the Police! Is anybody up there???"

Both vampires leap into action and Spike takes Connor from Angel's arms, handling him as if he is a fragile piece of glass.
*sirecoldhungrysireSIRE*
*safe. soon. hold on.* Spike sends back, trying to calm the nearly thrashing childe on the bed. Not long now ‘til he wakes up completely.

"S.P.D.! Are you upstairs? We are coming up now!"

Angel is out of the window and waiting with wide open arms for the first … to be thrown down. Spike looks down, one knee on the window sill for balance and with a nod he lets Connor fall. The chip doesn't give a twinge. Glad, Spike hurries to turn around and grab his childe. He strokes the contorting face, somewhere between death and human and vampire, *coldsirecoldhungrysirehungry* kisses his childe's forehead and then leans out of the window and *soon. safe. all safe.* lets him fall.

Angel catches him easily, hugging the trembling body to his chest, gaze fixed on the rippling face, again fascinated by the gorgeous transformation of a first change, on half parted lips through which he can see the fangs grow and gleam virgin white. Eyelids flutter and orange-golden orbs focus on his. "Sire?"

Overview

01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | 07 | 08 | 09 | 10 |
11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 || tbc.. ==> 00