Los Angeles, Present Day

Angel was drumming his fingers on the top of his desk impatiently. He was so *not* good at this kind of thing. "Yes, that's
correct. One dozen. Every week. No, only white. Yes, Sunnydale Memorial Gardens. Buffy Anne Summers.

(Annoyed now).

"I don't know the plot number, Im paying you enough, you can figure it out. No...no..a note isn't necessary. Yes, Bank of London. Account number..."

Spike stopped eavesdropping at that point. The amusement of listening to his Sire attempt business transactions with the mortal world had faded when he'd realized the intent. Angel hung up the phone and looked at his Childe expectantly, waiting for the
inevitable smart ass retort. It never came.

Instead, "How long you going to send them for?" There was actually a quiet respect in the blonde's tone.

Angel caught that, despite the ache in his chest which his previous task had only served to intensify. He smiled a little, but Spike noticed it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I set up a perpetual account. I suppose they'll keep arriving long after I'm dust on the
bottom of someone's shoes."

The other vampire just nodded, trying unsuccessfully not to get a mental picture of the last.

When he finally opened his mouth to say something, he realized Angel was lost ....It was years ago, when Buffy was still in High School. Her mother was in the hospital, and Buffy had feared she was dying. Angel couldn't comfort her about mortality, how
could he? It would have been hypocritical. So he had stood silent when she attacked him in her sorrow and her rage, and accused him of being unable to comprehend her fears. Again, she had been right. Except for one small detail. He knew then
that he would be devastated if he lost her to deaths hand. And he realized, at that very moment, that one day he surely would. 

As if reading his mind, she had lashed out, "Sure, you'll mourn me, but for what? Maybe fifty years? Then you'll forget. You'll forget."

He hadn't bothered to argue then. Gods, he wished he had bothered to argue. Wished he had said, Buffy, Ill mourn the loss of you until I cant remember my own name... Wished he had crushed her with his kisses. But he hadn't. Now there were roses.

Angel realized suddenly that a pair of blue eyes were studying him closely, and a platinum shadow was hovering , cautiously, on the edge of his thoughts. They had shared so much blood recently, the younger vampire pretty much had a random access pass into his Sire's consciousness. Angel shook off his reverie. The intrusion wasn't entirely unwelcome. His Childe had been his single saving grace after Buffy's murder. Immediately after her death, Angel had thought eagerly of greeting the sunrise. He had been more than willing to give his body back to Angelus. Anything to kill that pain. Angel had been seconds away from feeding off two pretty children in an alley; seconds from ending the quest for a redemption which had never seemed so far away, or so pointless. Then the voice calling to him. In his anguished state of arousal Angel had barely recognized the small blond figure who
called out his mortal name.

Spike...reluctant guardian of his Sires soul. Two months ago Angel wouldn't have allowed Spike in the same city with him. Now he slept in his bed.

Angel didn't know if their union would be at all tempered or softened by the mortals which would soon surround them. He clearly recalled every detail of their first incarnation together, however, and it made his human side more than a little nervous.

Angelus had adored the brutality inherent in sex acts. It always reminded him of killing. And if that was indeed the end result, well so much the better. Fighting, feeding, fucking. All very close on the vampire spectrum. All consecrated by the demon. The stories regarding Angelus... preferences were accurate, and certain details had even found their way into the present days texts. Angel never could stomach reading about his own sexual perversions in the musty books which had filled the Watcher's shelves. It wasn't necessary anyway. The movie version played itself out in his head nightly. And, when Penn had come to L.A., Angel had shared the visions of his kills in dreams. He remembered telling Cordelia how much he enjoyed those vicarious visions of death. In sleep, the soul had no purchase.

Cordelia had naively assured him that everyone had a dark side, "The Powers That Be know you, Angel. They know you're not **him** They know the difference." He had to bite down on his tongue to keep from laughing at her. How could *they*
know the difference when even *he* didn't?

Yea, he wanted to say, sit on my lap little girl, and let me tell you all about my dark side. ....

Let me tell you how Penn's cleaned it up a wee bit. See, I didn't just carve little crosses on their faces with insipid Goth jewelry. I carved them *all* up, skillfully as a surgeon, and sucked the marrow off their bones like you would gnaw on riblets. I marked every one of my kills, but it was with a different symbol in each town. I still remember some actually... Glasgow was my initial, Swansea was a heart....the cliched cross I really only used once or twice..the last time was in Romania I believe. My infamous Gypsy girl got the cross between her lovely tits, if I recall correctly.

Oh, and did the books mention I had a weapon of choice for my personalized engravings? Gods, it was an exquisite dagger.. jade handle and smooth, silver blade. Samurai class. I loved that knife. I stole it from what must have been some meals prized collection. Carried it with me for almost two centuries, before losing it by that Gypsy campfire.

I Marked my Childer with it as well. In fact, every one of the vampires I sired has some sort of telltale badge which branded them as *mine*. You've seen the scar on Wills eye? That was me. Tricky to do, that. You have to carve them before you turn them, because of course, once they're dead, they wont scar. But they're still human then, and they don't much appreciate the cuttings..And .the smell of their fear makes it even harder to cut them just once... its like those potato chips, you know..?

So I would make a lot of cuts as I fed, then heal them all with my saliva...all except the one I found the most pleasing. That one they got to keep for eternity. Dru has the most splendidly detailed pentagram carved on her ass. Squirmed so much when I was doing it I had to knock her out in order to finish it properly.....

Angel shook with fear and longing at the ancient memories. Of course, Angel had his soul now. William, however, did not. It was easy to make the assumption that Spike was just a V-chip away from mayhem. Angel didn't need anyone to draw him a
schematic detailing his Childe's baser side. Spike was, by his very nature surly and vulgar, not to mention instinctually amoral.

On the other hand, he was also loyal to a fault and he made no secret about his uncharacteristic love for his Sire. And Angel felt neither qualms nor guilt about accepting that love. Which, in itself was a shockingly new experience for the nearly 250 year old
vampire.

In the brief period of time since Buffy's murder, William had already become comfort and confidante, teacher and tormentor, brother and lover. Angel made no comparisons between his feelings for Spike and his feelings for Buffy. It would have been
unnatural for him to do so, akin to a parent trying to decide whether they loved their child more than they loved their spouse.

The love was equal, but vastly different. Freed of such irrelevant moral restraints, Angel had simply allowed his love for his Childe to make its way into his life in whatever form it chose to take. Despite his penchant for self-denial, Angel knew he simply could not get through this time alone.

And apparently, he *was* supposed to get through it. Apparently, he still had some purpose he was meant to serve.

He wanted desperately to believe that was the reason why William had been given back to him. ((One door closes)). Nonetheless, he continued to curse The Powers That Be for the events which precluded their reunion. ((This was a big fucking door)).

"What else needs being done round here?" Again the voice brought him back to the present.

Angel rubbed his eyes. Gods, he hated paperwork. It was what he paid Cordy for. But she and Wesley had remained in Sunnydale after the funeral. Tying up emotional loose ends. Something Angel had found impossible to do in that town. Buffy
was no longer alive in Sunnydale, but Angel felt her presence everywhere he went. It was why he had to leave for LA in the first place. He couldn't stay away from her if he wasn't ...away from her. The impossible obsession only flourished in the face of
her sudden, horrific death. It was easier here. It was far.

A not so gentle slap to the side of his dark head. "Ow! What?!" A scowl. "Oh,...uhm...here... ," Angel tossed a weeks worth of mail at the annoyed vampire. "Sort through these," he ordered.

Spike gave him another scowl and a mock salute, but nonetheless began separating the mail. He tossed half, unopened onto the desk, and half into the trash. Angel shot him a warning look. "What?! Boring, human crap."

Then Spike caught sight of a small package. "Hullo, then, what's this?" Grabbing for it before Angel had a chance to react, he tore it open, and poured the contents into his palm.

Angel reached for the discarded wrapper. No note enclosed. No return address. Postmark: Prague. A small shiver ran through the older man. "Will," he began, "what was in the package?"

Spike shrugged, and showed him his open hand. In it was a tiny, green stone, about the size of a quarter and triangular in shape. He raised a quizzical brow at the strange look on his Sires face.

"Who's this thing from? And what the hell is it?" Angel didn't reply, just showed William the package, and pointed to the
postmark.

For one moment, Spike was torn between clutching the mysterious object to his chest and tossing it down onto the desk. "Dru..." he whispered, "you think this is from Drusilla."

Angel narrowed his eyes, stared hard at the vampire before him. "Do you? You know her better than I do."

Taken aback by the admission, Spike took a deep breath and stalled before answering, "Im not sure." He shrugged again, and the clouds lifted. "My princess never went in much for niceties. If she was gonna send ya a gift it'd more than likely be some poor fellow's bollocks." With that he handed the trinket back to Angel.

Angel had to grin at his Childe's sudden return to form. He envied that ability. Maybe it required the lack of a soul. Still, he had to agree with Spike. "You're right. So.. I'll just let Wesley take a look at it when they get back from Sunnydale." He tossed the
stone into the top drawer of his desk.

"Good idea, mate," the smaller vampire said. Then, a solicitous grin, "Now that all this mortal nonsense is cleared up, you fancy goin' downstairs and havin' a fuck?"

Angel blinked. Then he laughed, and allowed himself to be pulled out of his chair, and into the elevator leading to his apartment.

In moments, William had Angel pinned to the back wall of the lift, and was simultaneously kissing him with a fierce urgency while pulling his shirt tails up and out of his pants. Angel grinned against those cold lips, and returned the kiss with a lazy indulgence. The desired effect was immediately achieved. Angel felt the low growl rumble against his chest, just before the fair headed man pulled away and punched the *stop* button on the elevator.

Angel raised an eyebrow, and half his upper lip curled with it. Then Spike was crushed against him again, and they were sliding down the wall together, landing in a jumble of arms and teeth upon the hard wooden floor. Angel lifted his head from the floor
to keep his mouth attached to that of his lover, and Spike cradled the back of his neck in a strong grip. Then Angel's shirt was in shreds around him, and William's mouth was licking a moist, chilly trail down the middle of his chest. The path of light brown hair he had been following was rudely interrupted by black denim and a metal fly. With a snarl, they too were gone, the tattered remnants of his jeans around Angels ankles like so many ribbons.

"Mmm...much better, Peaches," Spike sighed, leaning forward to capture Angels swollen cock in his talented, hungry mouth.

Angel grunted, and arched up off the floor of the elevator, pushing his thick shaft deeper into the throat which opened eagerly to receive him. Angels hips were moving of their own volition, as Spike's hands gripped either side of his waist in an attempt
to keep them still.

The smaller vampire laughed a bit, taunting Angels frantic need. "Just once...give it up to me, pet..." he murmured against the silken, cool skin. The steel sheathed in velvety softness.

"Don't move..." he admonished with a grin, before burying Angels raging cock in his mouth to the hilt.

Angel grunted once more, struggling to comply with the fervent request, to abandon all control to his Childe, and simply luxuriate in the sensation. He knew though, that once his demon was fully aroused, it would no longer be possible to do so. He
fought to maintain human face, but the tongue rapidly swirling around the purple head of his cock was assuring Angelus' presence would be swift in approaching. It didn't take much with Will.

Angel only had to close his eyes and picture his Childe beneath him, writhing in pleasure, and groaning his name, and he was instantly suffused with a warmth he would have sworn was usually denied to demons of his ilk. And that pleasure was only intensified by the blood bond they shared. There was no basis for comparison between human sexual contact and the level of intimacy he experienced with Will. Their senses heightened by the demons they hosted, their physical deaths assuring no permanent harm could come to their bodies, the sex between them was more a Bacchanal orgy than lovemaking. The most subtle touch or faintest sound could created a feast of sensation. It made their joinings an intoxicating brew of violence and
tenderness, of blood and cum.

Somehow, in spite of the devastating loss of Buffy, William had been able to give Angel the most amazing of gifts. Precious, scattered moments when Angel actually felt ... good, loved... alive.

They had slid back into the old roles effortlessly. Sarcastic banter, merciless teasing. Verbal sparring which more often than not led to physical brawls. This was demon foreplay. A sort of speak-easy for the most violent parts of their truest selves. The
beast could be provoked by the most irrelevant word or gesture, and would not be stilled until it had consumed everything in its path. Torn flesh, broken bones, streams of crimson blood, all sacrificed on the altar of desire. And afterward, stumbling into the
shower, letting the steam cleanse their pores, they would stand, dazed. The stupor would last for hours, while the monster slept, and their bodies purred. Waiting in awe for the next unpredictable Awakening.

Now, Angel lay sprawled on the floor, beneath the other vampire's plundering mouth, struggling to be still, acquiescent. Fighting his own dominant nature. He was all too aware of what he treasured most about the union between William and himself. The
pain. It was... delicious. It was home and hearth, the warmth of the sun he had been denied for two hundred years. Angel's soul was irrelevant in those flickering moments. The only difference between Angel and Angelus when he was screwing Spike,
was that Spike would heal up over night when Angel was done with him. With Angelus it had usually taken days.

Sometimes, that differentiation just wasn't large enough for the dark haired vampires comfort.

The tip of a cold tongue lapping at the first drops of glistening pre-cum conjured the change this time. Spike felt his Sire's muscles tense underneath him, but was not swift enough to back away before Angel sprang like a cat, and tossed him
backward onto the elevator floor. When the last furious snarl filled the small space, the blond vampires clothes had been shredded as well, and he lay naked beneath his Makers heated, golden gaze.

The sight of Angels luminous white fangs was enough to bring the ridges out on William's brow as well. ((Fuck, the bastard looks good when he's hungry)).

Now the embrace was brutal, crushing. Cannibalistic kisses, numerous tears of flesh, deep draughts of the sweet, whispering blood. Echoes of thoughts danced around them as ghosts in the tiny cage. Wisps of gold and blue wrapped around their nude forms, bound them together.

**Teach you to tease me, little one**.. Angel was saying....thought he said it...Spike on his hands and knees...his Sire leaving a fresh trail of crimson down his spine with angry bites...Faintest tease of a tongue...then two fingers...three...now four...opening
him, tormenting him..tearing him...using Spikes own blood to lubricate his tight passage.

Angel gripped the blonde's forehead in his palm, lifted his head and bent it back. The awkward position forced Spike to struggle in order to stay up on his knees. Then his Sires mouth was against his jugular, and Spike reached back, to clutch Angel to him,
tighter, closer...more...

((Don't stop now, Master, please don't stop now)).

A grin. **Love the begging, little one**

Fangs invading flesh, tearing open the precious vein, Spikes thoughts...incoherent now...

**Laughter**

Moaning, panting to fill dead lungs with unneeded air. Fingers digging into the back of Angels neck...some vague attempt at communicating the need...

**Did you say something, Spike?** Grinning against the fount.

Torture... Pulling away...((nooooooooo))

**Hmm..? I didn't quite hear you....**

The blood from the corner of Angels mouth dripping back from where it came, from the gaping wound on Spikes alabaster skin ...**did you want something, my boy?**

Real words this time. Actual speech. The voice like sandpaper ..or was it silk....damned similar... "You know you need only ask, my love..." The presumptuous tone that made Spike want to kill....and die... "But you *do* have to ask first."

Angel's cock was pressed against the small of his back, but any attempts to make closer contact were thwarted by a tightening of those arms around him, and a small laugh. Still trapped in that powerful embrace, his blond head resting against Angel's
motionless chest, Spike managed something akin to a whimper. Angel held his Childe's chin cupped in one strong hand, with the other he traced a line over the ridges of his flaxen brow. **No...no, that wont do.. **

A deep shuddering breath... "Please, fuck me. I want you to fuck me...Sire, please..." The last plea wasn't yet from his lips before he was again bent over on all fours.

Spike heard his earlier words repeated. "Now *that's* much better."

Then Angel took him. With the first swift stroke he filled him completely. The animal howls of pleasure mingled, carried through the chain door and into the apartment below.

Angel grasped one of Spike's wrists, twisted, pulled his arm behind his back. He used the leverage gained to build momentum with his savage thrusts, until he was able to meet the backs of Spike's thighs with the front of his own easily each time.

**Aww.... so quiet now, lover...no more teasing your Master? What's wrong?**

A grunt of pain..pleasure..((Fuck you, Angelus))

...That laughter...in the mind it rang so clear...pure like church bells...**thought that's what I was doing, little one..or is it just not hard enough for you to take notice...?**

Impossibly, harder...That cock ramming into him, splitting him in two, breaking him open while he struggled to keep his head form hitting the hard floor with each blow. Incredibly, his body responding, arching to meet every single thrust with an urgency
that astounded them both.

Angel reached underneath him, and lightly stroked the tip of Spikes cock. He jumped and quivered immediately in response, his long ignored member aching for its own release. **need something else, lover?**

((shit, he's going to make me ask for that too)) Harsh, stinging slap to his inner thigh.

Real words again, by his ear this time, "Noooo.." a long, drawn out whisper.. "I'm not going make you ask...I'm going to make you beg, Spike..."

Fingertips only, caressing the shaft with a gentle touch, in sharp contrast to the bestial fucking.... Spike bucked against those fingers, but they eluded him, and the small sounds of his Sire's displeasure danced in his ear. One hand cupping his balls, testing their weight, rubbing a hard thumb down their center.... Finding the base of his cock, pressing there... Spike groaned loudly, and ground his hips harder against his Sire's cock, still buried deep in his ass.

His voice was raspy and thick, "Ok....Ok...I'm begging...I'm begging you, Sire...let me cum..please...make me cum..." A sharp growl was torn from his throat as those magik hands at last complied with his desires. A powerful fist slid up and down his
length in rhythm to their merciless coupling.

The pool of blood gathered beneath them was slowly expanding. The edges of the puddle made a steady dripping sound as they slipped down the shaft of the elevator. Spikes hand slid in the sticky substance. He left a single, crimson palm print on the
wall as Angel grabbed him and slammed them both against it, his merciless thrusts increasing in speed and intensity until the world around them went black and blue and red....

**My name....say my name...scream my name...** was the last sensible thing Spike heard. Before he did as he was bidden, he reached back again, and grabbed Angel's head in his own strong embrace.

As he came, he called out his Sire's name inches away from the lips still covered in his own blood. Hearing his Childe's cry sent Angel over the edge as well. Spikes back was covered in the thick mixture of vampire blood and cum when they collapsed
once more into a sated heap on the elevator floor.

It was several long moments later before Angel was able to stand, and pull open the heavy metal door. He helped the more injured vampire to his feet, and together they made their way to Angels bedroom, leaving a trail of bloodied footprints in their
wake.

***

Angel had chosen his basement apartment precisely for its isolation. Once secluded within the darkened space, it became nearly impossible to judge time. Were it not for the single clock by the bed chiming the hour in dulcet tones, the passage of day
into night would go completely unmarked. The faint glow of Spikes cigarette bathed his face in an eerie orange light. Angel lay on folded arms, and watched as Spike took one deep drag after another in the darkened room. The blond turned his head to
catch the silent stare, and groaned.

"Don't look at me that way, you bleedin' pouf."

Angel looked genuinely surprised. "What way?"

"That "I'm all souled" way you get after a particularly vicious shag. Like you're checking for leftover bruises. I like it, you like it, so fer chrissake can we just leave it alone, Peaches?"

Angel looked away, slightly ashamed. Spike was the only living creature who could make him feel guilty about...feeling guilty.

"Besides," he was continuing between deep puffs, "it ain't like it was a couple hundred years back. This is right pale by comparison."

Angel turned to look at the vampire who was now stubbing out the cigarette in a dish on the bedside table. His own mixed emotions stopped him from accurately reading Spikes tone, and he wanted to search the man's face for clues....but none were
forthcoming in the stony expression.

"What the hell is it you want from me, Spike?" Angel's voice was more wearied than angry.

Spike snorted, and lit another smoke, just to have something else to think about besides this conversation. "You know perfectly well what *I* want, pet. I'm not the angst-ridden, reluctant fiend in this pair. You figure out what the hell it
is *you* want, you just let me know, ay?"

"High maintenance foof ", he finished silently. This dance in particular was beginning to wear on the younger vampire. He exhaled a large cloud of blue smoke into the night air, and swore that if his Sire was ever idiot enough to apologize to him after
one of their rougher toss abouts, he was going to kick the pillock in the teeth.

A low snarl from the other side of the bed. "What I want?! You want to know what I want, boy?" Turned so fast the cigarette dropped on his thigh

...it burned...it burns!! it ...

((((what I want is one of those Viper Roadsters...1992..only one hundred built.....scalpel, please..)))) **It hurts...oh, bloody fuck it hurts...** (((oh man, those are nice, but i like the BMW Roadsters better..need a clamp?)))) Strapped spread eagled, face down..blood gathering in a puddle underneath....so much blood....(((yea, thanks.. damn, vampires bleed alot more than any of the other hostiles))) Muffled cries...screams even...hard slab of wood in the mouth....**my head...get your goddamn hands out of my head...** (((almost done, you can start taking out the IVs))) More burning in the leg...both arms numb...numb is good...numb is better than ...(((shit...I cant get ...can you hold this?))) Pungent smell of alcohol. Nausea...wave after wave....around the bite block..blood...and spit....vomit...more blood...***oh gods, Angel...please...Angel make it stop....*** Pleading like a baby. Tears of blood. ((there! ...damn...all right...go ahead and wake it up))) **I am awake you cocksucking,
motherfucking.....when I get off this sodding table....** Sharp jab in the arm. Straps removed. Sagging, boneless, into the leather table, soaked in sweat. Chest heaving.

**Angel...Angel...Angel**.....A prayer.

'Til suddenly he's there... Angelus... Sire, Savior, smiling down on him, stroking his hair, slick with perspiration and blood...licking his forehead...cleaning him like a father cat..."You came..you came...I knew you'd come..."

A low growl. "What did they do to you?" Rough hands on the wound...another scream of agony as fingers pry open the fresh incision....

The voice, soft, furious... "How could you have let this happen, boy? You're useless now! What good are you to me? To anyone? .....There's nothing left of you that I want..."

Blond head dropped coldly onto the table...Weeping...pleading.. "Master, please!..I tried..I tried to stop them....I'll do anything...don't leave me, don't leave me Sire!...Don't..."

The rigid back of Angelus as he walks out. Shaking his head. over and over repeating, "William, William..." Disappointment in his tone. Heavy door slamming.

Alone.

*****NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!******

"William! Will!!"

Shaking...someone was shaking him..."William its a dream..it's a dream..wake up, love..wake up..." Arms around him, strong, sure, safe. Here. Rocking, Chanting.. a mantra. "It was a dream, it was just a dream."

Still in the throes of slumber, Spike leaned into the gentle embrace, sobbing uncontrollably, blood and salt on the smooth, white chest. Steady hands stroked his fair hair, with the rhythm of a lullaby. "It's Ok, now. Everything is Ok. It was only a dream."

Muscles stiffening. Return to awareness. Throbbing pain in the back of his head. Spike pushed the arms around him away. He stared into the concerned face of his Sire, looking at him like he was some kind of helpless child. 

((Fuck, I hate that. And don't go apologizing again either.))

Angel winced.

Soft voice repeating, "It was a dream, Will. That's all."

Deep shaky breath. Bright blue eyes meeting chocolate brown. "No, Angelus. No. It was *not*."

Spike felt something cool pressing into his palm. He opened his hand, and looked down.

In it was a triangular, jade green stone.

***

"All right. So you're telling me that until tonight...until now..you had no memory of...-"

Spike cut Angel off in mid sentence. He was pacing the room, and so upset, his accent had gone back one hundred years in time. Angel had to pay close attention to catch the words. "Aye, that's what I'm telling you! You think I'd forget I remembered....I mean...look, you pillock! I was awake when they drilled a hole in the back of my skull! You don't just forget
you KNEW something like that!"

Spike turned quickly so he wouldn't see the look of pain cross Angel's usually stoic features. He knew Angel was wishing he could have been there to protect him. And, quite frankly, he didn't want to deal with Angels pain right now.

He felt plenty stupid already having called out to his Sire in his dream..memory... whichever. Shagging Angel was one thing. He could even admit to loving Angel, if it came with the shagging. *Needing* Angel was another matter entirely.

It was bad enough having this off-switch in his head. He wasn't going to play kitten in a tree to assuage his Sire's rescue-happy conscience to boot.

More questions, and Spike struggled to pay attention. "How did you get the stone, Spike? I thought I left it downstairs in my desk..." Angel trailed off, trying to make sense of the evenings events, and having poor luck.

"You did," Spike answered. "I saw it myself. And I didn't get it out either. Least not when I was awake..."

Angel rubbed his head sleepily. "You didn't get up. You fell asleep as soon as we got off the elevator and into bed. Two minutes later you had the dream. You never left the bed."

"So...this is some kind of bloody mojo, then. Christ I hate that stuff, you know that, Angelus."

Angel grinned. "Yea, I know. Look...go head back to bed. You look like shit.” he paused for the expected biting retort, and got it in the form of two fingers in the air.

Smiling, he continued, “I'll call Wesley on the cell phone. I left it with them for emergencies. I suppose haunted stones qualify. Maybe he can look it up and get back to us with some information that'll be of help."

Spike just nodded numbly. He was exhausted. Something about that vision.....it was more than a dream...or a memory..It was like he had *relived* the entire experience. But with all the feeling magnified tenfold. Terror..and longing...He had called for Angel in those moments...he remembered that much...But of course, Angel had never come. So why the addition of Angelus at the end of what was otherwise an accurate recollection?

Spike sighed and stumbled back to the bed. He could hear Angels hushed voice on the phone in the other room, as he described the details of the evening to the Watcher. He caught the worry, anger and sadness in his tone, but he was
too tired to take umbrage anymore at the protective stance.

Spike pulled Angels pillow tight to his chest and inhaled the scent. A short moment later, Angel returned, and called his name softly. Spike didn't answer. He didn't stir when Angel sat cross legged next to him on the floor, and stroked his hair. When the soothing hands finally left his brow, Spike let out a small puff of breath, but his eyes did not open.

The smell of his Sire, the faint blue glow of a laptop and the soft clicking of keys kept him company that day, and there were no more dreams.

***

Spike awoke when the darkness was complete, when the apartment was enfolded in its inky embrace. After all these years, his body knew instinctually when it was safe to rouse. He sensed, even in slumber, when the clamoring of mortal noise was stilled,
and the air was filled with sounds of other night dwellers, from crickets to vampires. He searched the pitch for Angel, but he was alone in the room.

Spike sat up and ran a hand through stiff blond locks, scanning the floor for his clothes.

Angels voice, gentle, teasing, “Hey, sleeping beauty. Morning.”

Spike grunted a reply. Angel thrust a cup into his fist. “You always were grumpy before your first drink” Spike downed the pigs blood without thinking, then groaned as the offending flavor coated his taste buds and throat with a sickly tang. Pale
imitation. Pointless, really. Like non-alcoholic beer.

He looked up to catch his Sires indulgent grin. He hadn't drank from Angel in over a day, and the mind-link was slightly weakened. Still he thought he heard the promise to stock up on ((the good stuff)). Maybe it was just wishful thinking.

“Find out anything of use?” Spike finally queried, his voice still hoarse and raspy from sleep. He wondered how long he had actually been out. Damn dream, it had set him on his ass.

Angel half nodded, then relayed what he had learned from Wesley, and managed to glean from his research. Surprisingly little, actually, considering the time and effort he'd already expended. “Apparently, its a Catalyst Daemon. It draws on powers other
than its own to act. By itself, it has essentially no strength, but once its activated....awakened, it can be quite strong.”

“So, what turns it on?” the smaller vampire asked, then grinned a bit at the double entendre. 

The joke was lost on Angel, who was reading from a page he had printed off his computer earlier in the day... “ Initially activated by a spell, it then requires a
host to perform its mission. It draws energy from this host, and will gain in power over time. The mission it will perform varies according to the original spell, the Caster, the goal, and the recipient host. Once initiated, its intent cannot be stopped or
slowed by the stones destruction, or by any counter spell. Only the original spell Caster can alter the course of the Catalyst once it has begun “

Spike was following..”What we need to know then, mate, is who pulled its string and what they had in mind, aye?”

Angel nodded. He noticed with some degree of sadness how Spike sometimes still ended his comments to him with a question. It was as if he couldn't or wouldn't express an important thought without his Sires approval. He gazed at the smaller man in his bed.

“I want to know what you think, Will. If you think this is from Drusilla?"

Angel watched Spikes Adams apple bob up and down in a hard motion, followed by the shrug the blond used to cover up his body's betrayal of his feelings. When he at last answered, his voice was tight. “I don't think Dru would send anything to hurt you. She....she worshipped you, Angelus.”

Spike most often referred to his Sire by his Olde name, the Hunters name, much the same way Angel would call his Childe by William in more emotionally charged moments. But the use of the Predator name this time served only as a reminder of the vast changes these years had wrought. And what the changes had meant to them all, including Drusilla. The dark haired Cockney girl had been little more than a toy to Angelus, albeit a sometimes cherished one. To Angel she was a never-ending source of pain and regret. But to Spike....

Angel looked again at the blond sitting in the middle of his bed, hands wound around his knees like a lost child. He looked in this moment much like he did the first time Angel ever beheld him, some two hundred years ago. Hungry, small, alone. Anger, shame, and the old desire warred inside Angels chest. He knew William would tolerate no measure of comfort. Still, Angel had to speak his truth.

“She loves you, my Childe. She always has. You have to know that. Her feelings for me were --”

Spike cut him off with a growl, yellow eyes flashed in the darkness, “No, she *needed* me. She loved you. And I don't wish to talk about this any longer. You asked me if I think the package is from her, the answer is, I don't know. I get no *hit* of her off of it, but its been a long damned time.”

Angel closed his eyes, took a breath and switched tactics,. “Problem is, Will, we have to talk about it. According to the lore, the daemon in this stone alters itself to suit the will of the Caster. If that caster is Dru....we have allot bigger problems on our hands than just some frightening dreams.”

Spike narrowed his eyes , looked at Angel expectantly to finish. The dark haired vampires answer was halting, “Well, Drusilla's not exactly...I mean she's --”

A sharp laugh interrupted Angels hesitancy. “A fucking loon? Bloody hell, mate, you think I don't know this about her? I lived with the wench for over a century. She talked to inanimate objects and left *me* for a Fungus Demon. You think that's the workings of a sane mind?!”

Angel burst into laughter. His broad smile met Spikes own before he continued, “The problem is that her instability may have affected the workings of this Catalyst Daemon, made it even more unpredictable. Even if we figure out what the goal of the original spell was, with the way Drusilla's mind works...well, in short, we have no idea what we should expect.”

Spike smirked a bit more “Aye, that would be Dru. Defies all expectations.” Angel heard the rare display of undisguised affection in Spikes tone. He dropped another coin into the bottomless well of remorse in his soul named Drusilla, and curled his hands into fists to keep the apology on his tongue from spilling out. To voice his reparation now would bring a degree of solace to Angel, but it would also serve to further fuel Spikes ire. His Childer had suffered enough at his hands. He wouldn't add to it. When Angel had at last relaxed enough to open his fingers, tiny, bloody half moons marred both his palms.

The level of emotion emanating from Angel was so tangible, their Bloode bond was almost superfluous in Spikes understanding of it. Spike could literally *feel* his Sires pensive mood. The breakers washed over him....guilt..anger....regret... confusion.... Within seconds, it became too strong to surf and he felt suddenly as though he would drown. His heightened senses caught the faint odor of Angels spilt blood, and he gasped aloud.

“Willam...I --”, Angel began, but was cut short by the lithe movements of the smaller vampire, who had all at once sprang from the bed and into his lap. He was on his back before he could fight the assault, and a demanding, cool mouth latched onto the left side of his neck. Angel could hear the chant clearly now as the fangs broke his skin: ((Shut up, just shut up))

Any other time he surely would have either laughed or been completely enraged. At the moment, however, all he felt like doing was weeping inconsolably.

Spike was cradling Angels head in strong, certain hands, and gnawing on the side of his neck with languid ease. He wasn't drawing the blood out so much as lapping at it, only increasing the pressure with the tips of his fangs when the fount slowed. It was the difference between making love and fucking really, Angel thought..and he felt the grin slide across his arched neck as Spike picked that analogy from his mind.

Long fingers twined in the back of his dark hair, tipping his head further back, straining his already taut muscles. Angel gasped once, then was still, allowing the feeling of being gradually drained to overtake him completely. In seconds he wouldn't even be aware of the hard, insistent body pressed against his own. The suckling would work its alchemy, and he would become pure sensation. He was becoming addicted to this thrill ride. This curious mixture of comfort and terror. It was like falling from a very high place in slow motion. You knew eventually you would hit the ground, and that maybe it would be painful. And still, the rapture of the descent overwhelmed the fear of impact.

The air rushed past his ears and his nerve endings vibrated as he felt the blood being pulled from his extremities. It was almost like having a pulse again, as the sucking created a pace for the otherwise still blood. First a tingling in his hands, then his feet, and finally, his chest heaved with the effort to contain the life's fluid he didn't really require. A brutal twisting in his normally silent heart. What strange habits the body cherished, even after two hundred and fifty years. As if his cells remembered mortality
and struggled valiantly to recreate the impression of it.

Then, he was floating above the room, and he watched as William raised up from the crook of his shoulder and neck, and licked his bloodied lips. He saw himself, motionless and silent, arms relaxed above his head. He watched as William raked his teeth over his own wrist, and offered it to him. The first few scarlet drops fell onto his unmoving lips. Then William pressed his wounded wrist against his mouth, and Angel was tossed savagely back into his body as his demon took command of it. He grasped his Childe's arm in both hands, and reclaimed the blood which had been stolen from him, in furious gulps.

Soon, Will was bucking against him, grabbing his arm, and pulling away from the sucking which had become more painful than pleasant. ***Shhhhhh***

Angel pinned the smaller man beneath him, and moved from his wrist to the throat, his sucking holding none of the pacific qualities he had earlier received. He tore into the white flesh, and drank until all thought was again banished, until there was no regret, no fear, nothing but harsh, brutal desire. He drank until the litany of screams and moans coming from the squirming figure beneath him quieted to small vanquished sobs of mindless pleasure.

When he had drained Will nearly totally, he lifted his head, and looked down into the unblinking blue eyes. Their usually startling cobalt color was glazed and subdued, and long, dark lashes lay still on ashen cheeks. He easily lifted the boys pliant form, and lay him upon the velvet duvet on his bed. Angel climbed in beside his lover, and once more pulled his body close to his chest. With the sharp edge of his index finger, he traced a line along his own chest, from one pale nipple to the next. A thin streak of scarlet appeared. Spike was wholly exhausted. He merely twitched at the tempting scent. Then Angel pulled his blond head forcefully closer to the seductive repast, and instinctively, he clamped his mouth over the laceration.

When Angel felt Spike's strength returning, felt his blood being drawn forcefully once more through the lash in his skin, he sank his own teeth into Spikes shoulder, joined in the feast. The vampires remained locked in the circle... in what it crossed Spike's mind was the undead's version of a blood-filled sixty-nine... for what could have been hours.. or days....Spike wasn't really sure, didn't really care. He held onto Angel's shoulders, dug his fingernails into the smooth, unyielding flesh, and realized with a start, that the soft humming sound filling his ears was coming from him. Purring with a mouthful of Sires blood. It was like singing.

Tonight's bloode had been silent up to now. Spike was learning there were many levels to this kind of sexual and mental symbiosis. Sometimes during the bloode exchange, his Sire's thoughts shone so brilliantly he could scarcely separate them from his own. Sometimes they were a mere rustling of ideas or emotions, autumn leaves in his mind. And then, sometimes, it was as if a curtain would descend, and Spike would see and hear nothing at all. He could only surmise that Angel had the ability to sever the connection at will. Spike had been unaware that such a skill existed, although he could certainly understand its usefulness. For instance, in the past with Drusilla. Having an insane vampire skipping about ones consciousness often made for an unnerving evening.

The curtain had abruptly risen, however, suddenly there was war. Two powerful, preternatural minds colliding with the ferocity of a hurricane, each battling for dominance. The images flew like arrows, landed like missiles; the hands which had pitched them remained unclear to either. But there was no place to take cover from the pictures which recoiled violently from one vampires mind to the next..........

***

London, Eighteenth Century

Angelus was watching the boy again. It had become his new preoccupation. The first time he saw him he was attracted. Perhaps that was an inaccurate choice of terminology, since it was more so the way a human man might be attracted to
a good steak. He had thought to eat him then. Wasn't going to bother with fucking the chit even; Angelus wasn't much for sloppy seconds. Or in this youths case, perhaps hundredths....The boy was a street whore, hovering by the soft glow of the taverns every night, willing to go home with anyone who would offer a warm bed or meal, no matter how brief the respite. Pitiful really. That is, if Angelus had such an emotion in his repertoire. He did not. He looked at the dirty, abused body of the child and saw...dinner.

**I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.."

(( Don't worry bout it. Wasn't really my best look, pet.))

Until Angelus approached him, and reached out a single hand to touch the thin shoulder. The desolation, the misery that flew threw that touch like lightening forever altered both their destinies. This boy *wanted* to die. Well. Damn. That was no sport. It would be akin to doing a good deed. Angelus walked away, enraged. He raped and fed on four slim, brown haired young men that night. Then he made his decision.

The wretch wanted death to forget. Instead, he would give him life eternal to remember. Seemed like a fitting torture for spoiling his appetite.

**Nothing, I brought you into this for *nothing*..I damned you..***

((Oh yea, that's a good one to guilt over. Cause my alternatives were soooo much more enchanting))

He bid himself to wait until the boys body had matured into the form he would find more pleasing. So, for the next year he watched William, as he soon learned was his name. He studied this boy who had thwarted his hunger and in so doing, had become his obsession. He would follow as William would accompany some well bred gentleman to a squalid inn. He would watch in the shadows as the customer would have his way with the boy. It was several months before anyone made the connection. After bedding this street urchin, men were often found viciously and mysteriously murdered the next day. If they were found at all. Soon, William was unable to find a benefactor willing to sacrifice his safety for the sake of carnal appetite.

Which was more pathetic...begging for food, thieving or whoring? It was winter now, and Angelus watched William sift through heaps of trash for scraps of a meal. The thought occurred to the vampire that if he still ate food, and had but one loaf of bread....he would gnaw on it while he beheld this pitiful scene, because really, *that* would make it the consummate show.

**That wasn't me, it wasn't me...***

((Wasn't me either, ya nonce. Now get down off the cross. All that wood you're wasting up there. Would be so much more convenient to just stake you with it, and put me out of your bleedin' misery.))

It was Christmas Eve when Angelus decided finally that he had had enough foreplay. William wasn't getting enough to eat to add much more brawn to his frame. And he could sense that the wretched creature was near ready to off himself. That
simply would not do. That was a pleasure Angelus had reserved for himself.

“Boy!” William turned toward the harsh voice, startled. It had been weeks since anyone had addressed him at all. Angelus said no more, merely pulled his wallet out of his high priced pants, and waved it in the youths general direction. Then he proceeded to walk toward an Inn on the more expensive side of town. He smirked when William followed, wordless, an eager puppy.

The room was purposefully dark, and Angelus purposefully silent. He could smell the boys fear even over the vile smell of the boy himself. First thing he was going to do to this pet once he turned him was dunk him under soapy water for at least an hour. *Then* he'd fuck him blind. He grinned a bit as he watched William begin to remove the rags which passed for his clothing.

“What do you think you're doing, boy?” Angelus asked, his contempt obvious.

Angelus wasn't certain if it was William's tone of voice or the answer itself which startled him. “Im stripping” he said simply. Then, “ That is why were here, isn't it, pet? I know what it is that men like you want.”

What balls! Angelus was stunned. Did the little cocksucker just call *him* pet? Angelus laughed, a noise wholly without mirth. The sound crept up William's spine like the cockroaches he shared a nightly mat with, and he found himself recoiling instinctively. The tall, dark haired man was coming closer to him now, and even in the blackness of the room, he could see that there was something ...not...right...

***Gods, Will, you should have run..why didn't you run?***

((Cause I didn't want to die tired. Would you shut up now? Chrissakes...))

“My dear, “ the stranger in the hotel room began, the words dripping like molasses from his tongue, “you have not the faintest idea what it is that men like *me* want.”

**Don't want to remember this..I don't want to remember...***

((Why the hell not Angelus? This movies finally gettin' to the good part))

The death embrace was much like this one, although it was preluded by a brief and laughably lopsided battle. Angelus was not surprised that William, for all his courting of the Reaper, was less than welcoming when He finally arrived. Humans had the most morbid fascination with their own demise. Entire rituals designed around its prevention, its indefinite delay. No matter how sick, wearied or jaded a human meal was, they always fought their Grand Finale with every ounce of physical and mental strength they possessed. Angelus was glad of it, really. It made for better game.

What did surprise and amuse Angelus was when the little brown haired guttersnipe whimpered "No..no" as Angelus worked to complete the Circle. He actually had to hold William's head still to feed him back the blood.

***Too late now, my boy*** William heard the voice in his head clearly as the omnipotent survival instinct of the burgeoning demon took over his body. It was the single and only thing Angelus would ever communicate to him in this way. He would never have Sire's blood again.

As if the boy knew this, he sucked at the blood pouring from Angelus wrist with a frenzy that took the older vampire aback. For someone who had fought the change with a strength belied by his size and stature, William was making short work of draining the more powerful man.

The next memory Spike possessed was of being thrown, fully clothed, into a tub of steaming, soapy water. True to his word, Angelus held him under the suds while he struggled and squirmed, and gasped for air. “You don't need to breathe, idiot child, stop wrestling with me.” Hot water and sweet scented bubbles rushing through his ears, Spike nonetheless heard the words. After a few long, dreadful moments, he realized it must be true. Or he would already be dead.

He remembered being cleaned and scrubbed like a prized horse, from hair to toenails, and cursorily dried with a white, fluffy towel. He remembered his first meal, taken without hesitation or remorse, a lovely, caramel skinned girl who cursed at him in French before she died.

And even centuries later, he remembered the sex. Every other intimate encounter he had ever had morphed into one pale blur when Angelus fucked him. Odd. Because it wasn't so different really. A larger, stronger man, taking what he wanted from his body. The solitary distinction was what Angelus said when it was done. One word.

“Mine”.

William had never belonged to anyone or anything. No one had ever wanted to lay claim to him, let alone actually tried to do it. And it did not matter to him one whit why Angelus had made this declaration. Whether it was to twist William's mind or heart to his whim, or because he truly meant it, or simply because he could say it, and make William hold to it, was beside the point to William. William wanted it to be true, and so, it was. In that instant, Angelus became everything he had never had, nor realized how much he had craved. He only now acknowledged the pitiful longing which had been for over twenty years his only companion. But the bleakness of his former life had been erased by a single blood-filled kiss. Here, under the demons spell, and with the childlike simplicity of one who has spent their entire life enslaved by others, Will made his choice.

Angelus was Father, Lover, Home.

William lived up to this promise to himself to never be alone again, to never wonder where he would sleep, or where his next meal would come from. He steadfastly refused to allow the older vampire to goad him into leaving. Whether or not that was Angelus true goal was impossible to determine. It could have been that he didn't care one way or the other whether his Childe stayed or left. Or, perhaps that he really was just the nasty sonofabitch he portrayed himself to be. But when William was given silk shirts, and velvet pajamas, and wrapped to sleep in satin and down comforters, and taken to places in the world he had never even heard of, and tended to by the palest, softest women.....ah, well, it certainly made the beatings easier to endure.

Angelus would smoke expensive cigars, and drink aged brandy, and hunt among the noblemen and women. At first William could not understand any of this...why bother with mortal pleasures when there is the Blood? And Angelus would laugh and call him a whelp, and say “you'll learn, boy, you'll learn”. Soon William was rolling his own tobacco, and drinking red wine, although he could not quite develop a taste for brandy. And Angelus would look at him with something akin to pride. And William would completely forget the lash marks on his back.

Before each of their encounters, Angelus would ask him for permission. It was all for show, really, and William understood he actually had no say in the nightly games. Not if he wanted to please his Sire, and keep his skin, anyhow. So he would answer the same, no matter what the question. “Yes, I wish it my Lord.”

And then, every night, when Angelus and he would finish whatever bizarre pleasures his Master had designed for the evenings enjoyment, he would hear it. Just before drifting off into sleep. And it didn't matter at all why his Sire said it. Didn't matter why he did any of the things he did, no matter how awful they sometimes were. That one vow erased all of it.

“Mine”.

***

London, Nineteenth Century

The vampires' unholy union remained in this precarious balance for almost a hundred years. Unquestionably, Angelus was Lord and Master, but William had all he'd ever known of contentment. He never wanted for anything more. Nothing beyond a little dominion, anyway. Which he was not ready or willing to trade his Sire for. Not just yet.

Although it remained an unspoken topic, Angelus never made another male Childe while he and William were together. Whether or not he had made any before also remained a mystery; one Will was not willing to risk the tanning of his ass to hear about in any detail. There were numerous male and female conquests; some pets, some simply for one evenings sport. But no one competed for Angelus attention. No one slept between them all night long. And so no one heard the nightly ritual.

William had become a fine Predator in his own right, and was making a name for himself in the English countryside and well beyond. William the Bloody they called him, and Angelus would purr with pride. They were gorgeous hunters, eternal rulers of the night, timeless and immutable. It never once occurred to William that things could change.

Angelus had told William about his latest preoccupation, a black haired wench he referred to as Dru. This one was taking up a good deal more time than any had in the past. Angelus had concocted a detailed plan to drive her slowly and deliberately out of her mind. It was having near the same effect on Will. After almost a month of what was for the most part solitary hunting, William found himself wishing repeatedly that his Sire would just eat the chit and have it done.

Until one winter morning.. He had fallen asleep alone for the tenth time in as many days. The huge four poster bed he usually shared with Angelus dwarfed his small form, and he had wrapped up in every blanket they had to keep from feeling so...so...he honestly could no longer identify the feeling. It seemed too connected with his human self, a being he hadn't thought of in over in a century. A being that was hardly relevant to his current incarnation at all. That boy was long dead.

He turned over, and felt a smooth body wriggle a bit, beneath his own. “Angelus”, he whispered, still tangled in the web of blankets and dream. “Aye”, he heard followed immediately by a giggle. He came awake with a start. Angelus made alot of odd sounds when they shared this bed. But he *did not* giggle.

Blue eyes flew open, found themselves lost in a sea of green. Another giggle, long lashes fluttering on white cheeks. “Ooooh...Angel..., I like him. He's lovely.”

Angel?!? No one ever called his Sire by that diminutive....William simply stared, stupid, his mouth agape. His naked Sire holding a woman was sight he was accustomed to. It was a sight he always found particularly arousing, actually. But, Angelus had never brought a woman home with him. Never brought anyone else to this bed. And....this woman...she wasn't...William sniffed her. She giggled again. “She's dead”, William stated.

“Very good, Childe. Not half as dumb as you look with your jaw hanging open like that. She was meant to be a surprise for you. So...surprised?” The pale creature smiled at him and cuddled into Angelus side like a contented kitten as he spoke, “She's your birthday gift, boy. Have you forgotten? Its Christmas Eve tomorrow. Maybe death-day gift is more appropos..I can never figure which to call it....”

William remained stunned and speechless until Angelus cuffed him upside his head, fairly gently. “Will! Speak!”

“Who....?” was all the brown haired boy could manage as he drowned again in those enormous eyes of hers. Angelus rolled his own eyes heavenwards. “William,. this is Drusilla, Drusilla, this is William.” Such a bizarre place and time for the nobleman social graces, William thought idly.

Catching the thought, Angelus grinned. “Yes, “ he drawled, “moment of etiquette over. Lets get down to the games, shall we?”

Still William continued to stare. This was Drusilla. The woman who had all but stolen his Sire from him for the past month. William had been prepared to hate this chit. His Sires obsession with her had left him feeling...discarded. He'd had a notion Angelus was going to turn her, but now...she was here...in their *bed*! She wasn't going to be a toy, or a minion. She was going to be a Childe...the same as him.....?

And....and.... William...felt...warm.

That was it...how odd..he felt warm. He had no frame of reference for this feeling at all, not from his life or since his un-death. He looked at this dark goddess snuggling against Angelus chest...a place where until moments ago only he had lain for the last hundred or so years...and he ....wanted to protect her. How strange. It was obvious that Angelus had done his job well, that she was more than a bit insane. She was humming some sort of melody as his Sire absently stroked her collarbone...a nursery rhyme some far off part of William's brain remembered. But, Cor, he had eaten younger and prettier than her! And with no regret, no remorse. But this one...he wanted....

“Do I have to show you how this is done too, boy?” Angelus baited, moving his rough, slim fingers from Drusilla's collarbone down her smooth, long neck, dipping between her breasts, before pausing there...and taking one full red nipple between forefinger and thumb. He squeezed, none too gently, and she arched back against him, hissing her pleasure between clenched teeth.

William swallowed hard. Then he bent his head and captured that nipple in his mouth, rolling it between his teeth and tongue as his Sire cupped her breast for him, and lightly rubbed his chin. She sighed, and the sound snaked down the front of William's body, and rested between his legs. He raised his eyes to Angelus, tilted his head to the side, an unspoken plea. Angelus nodded, and lay the black haired nymph back further, against his chest, leaning them both upon the mounds of pillows. She was now completely exposed to William's heated gaze, and she continued to hum that tune. He had long ago stopped trying to place it.

William let his tongue travel along the undersides of her round, tiny breasts, creating tighter and tighter circles until the wet, open mouth once again claimed the hardening, pink flesh of her nipples. He took first one then the other bud into his mouth, biting down gently at first, then harder as she whimpered and thrust against him. Her small hands tangled in William's hair, and she rested her head back, as Angelus dropped a deep kiss on her open mouth. He swallowed her sighs of pleasure, her whimpers of slight pain, as William continued to nibble on the sensitive skin which swelled to greet his every caress. He swallowed the melody she had never stopped humming.

At last William's tongue found her thighs, and she kneaded his lightly muscled shoulders with her arousing preternatural strength. He spared a glance up at her, wondering what she would look like when her true face emerged in passion. The sight of Angelus tongue filling her small red mouth drove him to distraction. He buried his face between her taut thighs, and began the same agonizingly slow, torturous circles he had patterned on her breasts. Angelus had taught him a few handy tricks, to be sure, but his life prior didn't hurt at all either. He nipped on the silken flesh covered by moist black curls, until his teeth found the nub at the center of her pleasure. He sunk his teeth in, piercing her skin, drawing the droplets of crimson blood into his hungry mouth. Drusilla keened her pleasure into the side of Angelus neck, and William's curiosity was at last assuaged.

As he lifted his head from her downy softness, he watched the transformation begin. Her forehead and cheekbones became feline, her eyes narrowed, and the long, sooty lashes almost entirely disappeared under the ridges prominent on her brow. The green irises melted away, and now golden eyes peered out at him. A soft, pink tongue tantalized, darted snakelike over glistening canines. William felt every drop of stolen blood in his body begin to boil.

Without further thought or preamble, he took her, stretching and tearing her tight entrance with one harsh downward stroke of his body. She screamed her delight, and met his thrust with equal measure, her hipbones colliding against his as she wrapped her slim legs around his waist. He could smell her blood, her arousal, and his own demon possessed him, storming angrily through the path of blood in his veins. A virgin..she had been a virgin...William was lost.

The coupling became increasingly savage and William watched as beads of sweat poured from his forehead onto her belly. Angelus placed his head between them, and licked the salty droplets, before sinking his fangs into the taut skin of Dru's stomach. William heard the heady sounds of the feed through a vermilion haze of passion. Angelus lifted his head, spilt blood pooling in the corner of his mouth. He licked at his chin, a wild beast, and made a circular motion with his hand, indicating that Dru should turn over.

William held her hips so she would not release her grasp on his body as he helped her to her hands and knees. She was eye level with Angelus hard cock, and a small grin played over her mouth. Then her head was grasped by two pair of strong hands, and pushed relentlessly forward. Angelus filled her with a ragged groan. William gritted his teeth to keep from howling at the sight before him, and the feelings roaring through him.

Any restraint was soon forgotten as the pale, silky body between the men began to undulate in a slow, maddening rhythm. William stared as her mouth wound around his....*their* Sires cock, and his own aching shaft disappeared again and
again into the molten depths of her. He dug his fingernails into her petal soft ass as he felt his release swiftly approaching. The dark haired vampires fists yanked at her inky curls, pulling her roughly towards him so her nose hit his flat belly with each thrust. His face contorted in pleasure, and William recognized that look.....

Angelus threw back his head and howled his unearthly delight, pulling away just enough so that his cool, sticky semen covered her chin and pouting lips. He rubbed his palm in the fluid, bid her to open her mouth, and she did, sucking on his fingers one at a time as she had earlier milked his cock.

Now it was only William inside this delightful, wriggling vampire body, William claiming her as his own....

“Mine”....Will heard the growled promise almost before it fell from his Sires mouth...the pattern his lips had to form to say the words were so achingly familiar. But this time it was cooed against a pink shoulder, and the echo of it fell upon rich, raven hair.

As William's thrusts stirred her to rapture, she screamed a name aloud...”Angel!!”

William groaned, and his Sire smiled at him...perhaps mistaking the sound for one of enjoyment.......Or, perhaps not......

He closed his eyes as the empty orgasm rocked his body. The warmth he had been suffused with mere moments ago was gone, replaced by violent quicksilver leaping through his skin.

(((((hate)))))

After over two hundred years of existence, he never did figure out which grieved him more. Whether it was the fact that someone else called out *His* Sires name...or that it was Drusilla who called out that name..as he was making love to her.

It took him over a hundred years to admit he had been *making love* to her.

After that night, William took up a new hobby. He would torture his victims with a sharpened stick...always aiming near the heart. And every time that sharp piece of wood would slice the flesh, he would picture Angelus face, and that moment.

Thankfully, he did not have to live with the animosity long between them. Not fifty years later Angelus wandered to close to a gypsy campfire. Not long after that was the expansion of the railroad across the major continents.

It was a good fifty more years before Drusilla stopped sighing the name “Angel” in her sleep. William beat her mercilessly for it, but he couldn't begrudge her that, not really. After all, it had been the same length of time since he had acquired his new moniker, and a bleached head of hair to match. And sometimes, just sometimes, he still did the same thing.

On to part two