Shadowlands
By Fyre
TITLE: Shadowlands
AUTHOR: Fyredansa
EMAIL: Fyredansa@hotmail.com
SUMMARY: After making a break for it with Drusilla, while Buffy fought Angelus (In 'Becoming - Part 2'), Spike finally returns to Sunnydale for the first time, seven years down the line. But things have changed a lot since he last paid a visit...
FEEDBACK: I'm begging...even if you tell me its bad, please...say something...
DISTRIBUTION: Just here at the mo...but anyone can have it :-) Just ask nicely ;-)
SPOILERS: Any of season two of BtVS really...and if you read it and say - but there's none of season two, just wait. Plus Angel - season 1 features a bit.
COUPLE: Egads...lets see...Aus/S, Aus/W, Aus/C, C/F, Dru/Oz, Dru/X, Dru/Aus, Anya/Aus, S/W, Wesley/Aus, G/Aus, G/F, F/Aus, Oz/X, Darla/G...give me time and I'll find more...
RATING: The highest of the high :-)
DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. I never will own them. I'm poor. Don't sue me, please. Nuff said.
CLASSIFICATION: Its a long way from completed, but I'm taking it in stages. Don't want to fry my brain altogether.
NOTES: I like epics. I like Spike/Willow combos. This is an epic with a Spike/Willow combo. I'm hapy. Nuff said.
DEDICATED: Anyone who actually reads it :-D
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Heavy boots crunched on the shards of glass that liberally littered the dust-coated floor, a wrinkle of distaste creasing the smooth brow of the vampire silhouetted in the dark doorway.
A huddle of sinister-looking figures gathered in the center of the familiar hallway, a horribly familiar wheelchair on its side in the corner, just where he had left it when he had fled with Drusilla so many years before.
That had been three weeks before she turned on him, accusing him of being a coward, then disappeared out of his life permanently. And he didn’t have the heart to hunt her down, so he had roamed the world alone, only to end up back in Sunnyhell once more.
“Well,” Taking in the scene before him, he stepped into the dull light. “This place has certainly gone downhill.”
The assembly of vampires turned to him, their leader stepping forward to confront the newcomer. “And who might you be?”
A dangerous, predator’s smile crossed his face. “Spike.”
“Spike?” The vampire laughed condescendingly. “Everyone knows that Spike was killed seven years ago by the Slayer.”
“Izzat so?” Folding his arms slowly inside his duster, the vampire formerly known as William the Bloody smiled again. “Well, mate, I hate to burst your bubble, but I’m as undead as I ever was.”
“Prove it.”
Rolling his eyes, the bleached vampire paced calmly across the factory floor, halting in front of the oriental-looking, male vampire.
“You’re asking William the fuckin’ Bloody to prove he is William the fuckin’ Bloody?” His hand jabbed forward then back sharply, the dark vampire erupting into a cloud of dust, his heart crumbling in Spike’s hand. “Is that proof enough?”
A mocking applause rose from the catwalks above them, a single shadowed figure walking with slow deliberation along, a hand trailing along the rails casually. “Nice to see you again, childe o’ mine. I see you’ve lost none of your flair for death.”
“Angelus?”
“One in the same.” Swinging over the rail, the older vampire dropped down in front of his erstwhile childe. “How long has it been?”
Eyeing his Sire suspiciously, Spike feigned a friendly grin. “Almost seven years give of take a month or two…about that crowbar thing…” He shrugged helplessly. “You know you deserved it.”
“I should beat the living crap out of you.” Angelus acknowledged pleasantly. “But I’m in a good mood today. Don’t cross me tomorrow though.” Grabbing Spike, he embraced him enthusiastically, whispering in a low voice. “You’ll regret it.”
“So…” Pulling away uneasily, Spike met Angelus’ eyes. “What happened since the Acathala business? It didn’t open…that I can see, but what exciting fun and games did I miss?”
Angelus seemed to swell with pride. “I’m Master of the Hellmouth. The bitch sent me to Hell, but I came back and, by Satan, I had some fun…at her expense, of course.” The malicious grin that crossed his face sent a shiver scooting down Spike’s spine. “She died too soon, sadly.”
Spike nodded, unsure of how to reacte. He knew how obsessed Angelus had been with the pretty Slayer and he felt almost guilty for letting her die, but this was the Angelus of old, twisted and evil. Unpredictable and dangerous.
“So you still live in this old dump?”
Angelus laughed coldly. “Don’t be ridiculous.” Gesturing at the building around them, he sighed. “So many memories, I tell ya. But no, I live in the Summers’ house. I mean, it seemed a bit of a waste, leaving it empty and everything.”
“Sounds like a lot has changed.” Spike felt numb. He had left this place and it had seemed like the Slayer had won. After fighting Angelus, she deserved to, but now she – and her gutsy mother – were dead.
“Come wi’, me lad.” One arm around his childe’s shoulders, Angelus smirked. “I’ve got something to show you.”
His uneasiness growing by the minute, Spike nodded, expressing what he hoped was sufficient enthusiasm.
*
Staring around what had once been the Bronze, Spike felt physically sick. He may have been a vampire, but some things were just…wrong. Even by his exceptionally low standards, this scene was definitely that.
“Isn’t it perfect?” Angelus purred, his fingers digging painfully into the flesh of his Childe’s shoulder as he waved around.
Spike looked at the cages of half-conscious youths hung from the ceiling, the groups of vampires swaying and dancing on the dance floor catching droplets of blood on their faces, as it rained down from the caged prisoners.
Maybe it was the cages – detracting from the vampire’s greatest thrill. The wild hunt. That was what it had to be. He didn’t care about the mortals.
“It’s incredible.” He spoke quietly, a growl of hunger rumbling through him. “Did you do that…” He gestured upwards to the dozen cages. “With the chit’s friends? And the Watcher?”
Angelus sneered coldly. “You think I’d waste them and their sweet, slayer-tainted blood on the pathetic sub-species of this town?” A slow smile spread across his face as he raised his head to stare up at the upper levels. “You’re going to love the floor show, my boy.”
Leading the way across the a throne – of sorts – that sat on the stage, where the bands used to perform, Angelus sat down and firmly clapped his hands once, a silence descending on the gathering.
“My friends,” The expression on his face said that he more than hated them, but none had the guts to argue with his statement. Gesturing towards the stairway at the far end of the room, he purred. “The entertainment has arrived.”
Standing beside the massive, grotesque throne, Spike followed every other pair of eyes in the room to the figure on the stairs.
The communal intake of an unnecessary breath left a chillingly greedy smile on Angelus’ face as the young woman – seemingly oblivious to the hordes of leering vampires – calmly made her way onto the cleared dance floor.
Slight and slender, she moved with a willowy grace, her soft figure barely concealed beneath the crimson swathes of light material. Although she was clearly human, she could have easily passed for a vampire.
Deep, dark red lipstick stained her lips, emphasizing her pale, marblesque skin, her large eyes lowered – but Spike knew somehow that they would be bright, vivid and green – her lashes leaving a sooty smudge on her cheeks. Gleaming hair was piled carefully on top of her head, tendrils curling loosely around her cheeks.
A low, throbbing beat emanated through the club, surrounding them, the steady pulse raising the arousal in the room tenfold and still the silent girl stood in the center of the dance floor, motionless.
Finally, she started to sway, moving with the pulsing beat and rhythm, the long, crimson sheath she was wearing sliding down her body, her erotic dips and twists emphasizing her curves that peeked naughtily out from the tiny leather dress she wore.
Her mouth fell open in a silent sigh as her fingers swiftly unbound her hair, glorious dark red waves tumbling down to her waist, seeming like a tide of fresh blood in the glare of the lights. An image that every vampire in the place found intoxicating.
As if seducing the air around her, her fingers curled upwards, her head rolling back to reveal the exquisite length of her beautiful, pale neck. An audible groan rose from the assembled vampires, taking in such a vision.
Spike’s hand curled around the top of the throne, his non-existent breath ragged in his chest, his eyes never straying from the seductive figure.
Other observers were grabbing at anyone they could, the intensity being too much for them, their hunger needing to be sated. The overwhelming scent of the arousal hung heavily in the air.
“Will.”
Turning to face his Sire, Spike found himself caught in a searing kiss that he had no strength to break. Angelus’ cool tongue forcing its way between his slack lips, both of them still watching the incredibly erotic sensual dancing of the young woman out of the corners of their eyes.
“Isn’t she something?” Angelus sank back down with a low purr of pleasure, leaving his Childe staring shakily at the red-haired seductress.
“Something.” Spike couldn’t believe he had just let his Sire do that to him. The overwhelming sexual atmosphere must have been getting to him, when he couldn’t even accept that he liked the bastard. “Who is she?”
Waiting until the song thrummed to a climactic ending, Angelus’ lips curled up in a wintery smile, his hand unfurling in a slow beckoning gesture to the girl. Walking to the stage, she was lifted up by several minions, all of whom fled back as she sank on her knees before Angelus.
A jolt of recognition slammed into the blond vampire, his eyes widening. It was the Witch! The little red-haired Witch! Only not so little or innocent as she had been the last time he saw her.
“Come.” Angelus growled, drawing her closer, her pale face lowered, her eyes fixed on the floor. “Did you...enjoy your performance?” He demanded, rising to his feet and standing over her.
Nodding barely perceptibly, her soft, lilting voice whispered. “Yes, Master.”
His fist knocked her to the ground, her red mane falling over her body. Shakily, she pushed herself back to her knees, returning to the position she had been in, her hands clasped in her lap.
“You shall not enjoy your performances, slut.” He snarled, bending to push her mane aside, sinking his fangs into her pale throat. No sound escaped her as he drank, then drew away, placing a wide leather band around her throat, placing. “You’re here as my slave. Mine. Are you clear?”
“Yes, Master.” Even when he forced a savage kiss on her lips, his fangs tearing the delicate skin, she didn’t pull away or look elsewhere, passively accepting whatever he threw at her, which – in Spike’s opinion – was the smartest thing to do in this situation.
Sitting back down on the throne, he dragged her to the foot, his clawed hand resting on her bowed head. Demon eyes glittering wickedly, he turned his face to his Childe’s expectantly for an opinion.
“Any chance I could play with the chit?” Spike asked huskily, searching for any reaction, but aside from a brief tightening of her fists, there was nothing.
Angelus laughed softly. “Aye, Childe.” Sliding his claws under the girl’s chin, he tilted her face up, her eyes still focused elsewhere. “Look, Red, darlin’. My little Spike wants to play witcha.” Wiping a smear of blood from her lip, he lifted his hand and offered it to his Childe. “Taste her, Will. See how sweet she is.”
Taking Angelus’ hand in his, Spike trailed his tongue across his Sire’s fingertips, accepting the Witch’s sweet blood with a low purr. The elder vampire’s dark eyes narrowed with pleasure as Spike’s lips closed around one finger, drawing it between his lips, seeking every last drop of the blood there, his cool tongue laving the elder vampire’s rough skin.
“Beautiful.” Nipping the dark vampire’s fingertips, Spike looked down at the girl on her knees before them. “You got any plans for vampin’ her?”
Angelus smirked. “I find her too delicious a companion to change.” He admitted with a wry grin. “So fiery and hot to the touch. No one else has anyone who can compare with the flavour and feel of a mortal witch.”
“By Satan,” Spike grinned wickedly down. “You don’t half smell horny, mate.”
“I guess that makes two of us.” His claws shot up, snagging the younger vampire’s shirt, pulling him down for another savage kiss, Spike’s own demon rising and fighting for dominance over his Sire.
Fighting until Angelus’ lips dropped away, a satisfied smirk on his cool features, the younger vampire tried to tear his attention away from the red head that knelt at his Sire’s feet, her scent sending a tingle shooting down his spine.
“May I?” He growled, gesturing to the witch, wondering briefly if she would be as silent in the sack.
With a casual wave, Angelus dismissed the blonde’s request. “We haven’t watched the whole floor show.” He reprimanded. “She was the warm-up act…there are a few more that you might be interested in seeing, just for entertainment purposes.”
Squatting down beside the engraved legs of Angelus’ throne, Spike rolled his eyes, watching for the next batch of ‘entertainment’.
Nothing could compete with the eroticism of the witch’s dance, but for sheer entertainment quality, the show that was put on had the vampires rolling around in hysterical laughter within moments.
Two Watchers – both battered and scuffed – faced one another, swords clutched in shaking hands. One, he recognised as Rupert Giles, the tough, resourceful Watcher, but the other was a feeble-looking younger man.
And they were fighting. Giles was notably the better fighter, mopping the floor easily with the younger man as if there was a demon inside him trying to destroy something – probably Angelus.
Around them, the vampires hooted and jeered, bets being placed on each of the pair in equal measures.
Leaning up on the polished arm of the throne, Spike demanded softly. “What happens to the loser?”
A chilling smile flitted across the demon face. “They have to…satisfy me.” He inclined his head towards the two swordsmen. “Up until now, Giles has only lost one fight, in order to save Wesley. It was all very noble.” Angelus gave a cruel little chuckle. “After that evening in my company, he fought with all his strength, leaving little Wesley there to take the punishment for him.”
Shagging a Watcher. Now there was a nauseating thought. Spike grimaced, the terror in the younger of the Watcher’s apparent.
He had the feeling that Giles had been given a worse punishment after the Acathala incident, but Wesley was unfortunate to have incurred Angelus’ savage interest and sexual appetite.
With a final kick to his Junior’s chest, Giles sent Wesley sprawling on the floor, the tip of his sword positioned at the younger man’s throat, a drop of blood rising from the scratched skin.
“We have a winner!” A vampire bellowed through the sound system, a roar going up from the vampires that had won their bets.
Giles’ sword clattered to the floor, one trembling hand rising to brush the sheen of sweat from his brow, his eyes anxiously flitting around the room, taking in any new members of the gathering.
“So what happens to the winner of the fight, if the loser becomes your boy toy for the night?” Spike watched with intrigue as Giles bent mechanically and helped the shaking Wesley unsteadily to his feet.
Angelus’ hand carelessly brushed across the witch’s head. “He gets to play with one of my girls.” His voice was ice-cold, a look of dark anticipation in his eyes. “It all depends on the girls now.”
“Play with the girls? What girls? And what kind of play? Do we get to watch?” A wicked twinkle sparkled in the younger vampire’s eyes, staring up hopefully at his chuckling Sire.
“Wait and see.” His dark eyes were fixed on the two Watchers. Both were having manacles snapped on their wrists and ankles but, while Giles was left at the edge of the floor, Wesley was flung in front of the stage, cowering and trembling.
As it had fallen before, the silence fell again as two figures appeared at the top of the stairs, both clad in black hooded cloaks.
Scenting the air, the blonde vampire could tell that both were female, human and filled with a combination of fear and anger, although one had the distinctive scent of…a slayer? Cocking his head, he regarded them as they glided down the stairs, almost as gracefully as the witch had.
Two young minions hastily hurried forward to remove the identical cloaks, wolf-whistles and catcalls rising above the driving beat of the music when the two young women were revealed.
One of them, he recognized as the cheerleader. She looked as confident as ever, only with a little more edge to her, her waist-length brunette hair pulled back in a severe knot at the base of her skull and no make-up on her face.
Cut-off, designer jeans bared the length of her thighs, her taut body barely concealed by the cropped Versace vest she wore. Although sleek and graceful, he could see a core of toughness and strength in her that was surprising.
The other woman, though, was a walking predator. Like her counterpart, she was dark, her head raised proudly in the face of the leering mob. Clad in tattered, blood-stained, old clothes, she flexed her wrists, the manacles there straining and screaming in protest. From what he could see, Spike wondered if she had ever worn anything aside from the filthy garb she wore now.
“Who is that?”
Angelus smirked. “That was the second Slayer. She replaced the dumb bitch that Dru killed.” His eyes slid over her scantily-clad body with an approving nod. “Her name is Faith. She and Cordelia…such a beautiful pair.”
“And they fight?” Spike rhetorised, looking from the cheerleader to the Slayer with marked interest. Now, this would be an interesting match. Looking at the Slayer, he would have given the cheerleader a zero percent chance of survival, but – then – this wasn’t a fight to the death.
Settling back, he chuckled as a minion managed to get himself dusted while trying to remove the Slayer’s manacles, his head physically torn off as her chain ripped right through his throat.
“Wow, Faith.” The cheerleader rubbed her own wrists slowly, then draped one arm around the Slayer, her lips curling up in a seductive smile. “I love what you did with his head. Just screams dead guy.”
“Thought you’d like the style, C.” Faith purred, leaning closer to the leering cheerleader, their foreheads brushing lightly against one another. “You. Have. Such. Good. Taste.” With every stilted word, their faces drew closer, until their lips met, the cheerleader’s hands straying to her partner’s breasts and gliding under her vest.
“Bloody hell.” Spike uttered weakly, swallowing hard.
Without warning, Faith’s manacled hands snapped up, smashing the other girl in the jaw, knocking her over backwards.
Rolling to her feet, Cordelia dipped her finger in a trail of blood running from the corner of her mouth, a black bruise darkening under her chin. “Nice move, lover.” She murmured, dropping down to avoid a roundhouse kick, her hands catching Faith’s ankle and twisting her sharply.
Slamming down on her back, the Slayer convulsed her body, flipping onto her feet, one leg whipping out to cut Cordelia’s legs out from beneath her. “I wish I could say the same.” She growled huskily, her chained hands pressing down on the girl’s neck, Cordelia’s face grinding against the floor.
Spike was startled to find he was biting down on his lip, the tightening in his crotch increasing as the Slayer lowered her head and bit her victim’s throat.
A trickle of blood ran from the tanned skin, only serving to arouse their audience and enrage Cordelia even more.
Her hands flat on the floor below her, she straightened her arms sharply, the movement throwing the Slayer off her back, her body contorting to whip round and spring her onto her feet in a heartbeat.
Bloody Hell.
Steadying herself, the more mortal of the two girls looked down at her shirt, a wrinkle creasing her smooth brow, one finger slowly running along a narrow tear in the material across her breast.
“Look what you did, Faith.” She chastised, beckoning the Slayer and lifting her cuffed hands to the ripped material, the chains snagging and pulling at the fabric teasingly. “You tore my favourite shirt.”
“You call that a tear?” In one swift motion, the Slayer ripped the shirt, revealing as much of Cordelia’s perfectly tanned flesh as was possible without the shirt being completely lost. “Now, that’s a tear.” Trailing her fingertips across her partner’s bared breasts, she smirked wickedly. “Love the style.”
Cordelia’s fist rammed into the Slayer’s belly, followed by two swift kicks that sent the Slayer tumbling across the floor. “I don’t think you get it, Faith.” The dark-haired cheerleader’s voice was icy. “You tore my shirt. Now you have to pay.”
“I’m looking forward to it.” In what could only be described as a suggestive move, the Slayer’s tongue curled along her bloody lips, her hands jerking up between her own thighs with a crude thrust.
Cordelia’s eyes seemed to light up at the lewd gesture, her toned muscles in her smooth, tanned shoulders rippling. “I bet you are.” She growled huskily, lunging for the other woman.
The fight intensified, the two young women exchanging blows and caresses in equal measures, the heat in the room rising.
Not many mortals could hold their own against the Slayer – even a bound Slayer – but this fight seemed to suggest otherwise.
It was almost as if the cheerleader could predict her partner’s moves, as if it was a carefully choreographed battle, but something in their style and the violent intensity of the fight told the audience this wasn’t the case.
“What’s the deal with the mortal?”
Angelus glanced down at his Childe with a cool smile. “She’s a seer.” He replied casually. “Before I got back in control of this body of mine, she was given the gift by a demon friend of ours in L.A. before he died.”
A seer.
It explained a lot. But definitely not the supernatural speed and agility she seemed to have. Nothing mortal, aside from the Slayer, should have been able to move that fast, unless possibly aided by…
Spike’s eyes moved to the Witch. She wasn’t staring at the floor any longer. Instead, her eyes were intently focused on the two females battling on the floor, her lips pressed together in a tight line of concentration.
A shiver of awe passed through him.
Normally, any vampire, especially one as strong as Angelus, would sense her using her powers. It was an annoying fact that all witches gave off a strangely appealing scent when working magic, but this witch was able to conceal it. And that was no mean feat. This was strong magick she was manipulating.
A glance from Cordelia to the Witch went unnoticed by all but the blond vampire, but he knew what it meant the minute Faith successfully pinned down Cordelia, straddling her hips and kissing her fiercely.
With a loud yell, all betters on the Slayer clamoured for their winning, as the pair shakily got to their feet and stared at one another, pulling away and waiting for several minions to surround them.
“What happens to the loser of this fight?” Spike raised his eyes slowly from the Witch to his Sire.
Angelus rubbed his knuckles slowly down his childe’s smooth cheek, a chilling smile on his face. “I may let you play with her.” His eyes flicked from the Witch to the cheerleader. “Maybe with my Witch-wannabe. Let them fight for you.”
A glazed look glimmered in Spike’s blue eyes. “Bloody Hell…”
Jerked out of the visual fantasy, he felt Angelus’ lips covering his again and shivered, the cool tongue expertly brushing over his own. Despite having had no action for a hundred odd years, the old man was as good as ever.
“I’ll see what I can do for you, my childe.” The elder vampire’s voice thrummed in Spike’s ears, one firm hand sweeping with an easy familiarity across the tautness at the front of his trousers. “Since it is you…”
Weakly blinking, Spike heard the words, the feeling of his Sire’s mouth and hands bringing back all of the memories of the old days. Unable to help himself, he tilted his head, pulling aside the collar of his shirt and baring his neck in the childe’s motion of submission, his eyes closing the instant Angelus’ canines plunged through his skin, his blood rising to the surface.
“Now, that deserves a real treat.” Angelus’ cruel chuckle roused the blonde vampire, who cursed his weakness again. Licking his lips slowly, the dark vampire stretched langurously, his body as sensual as ever.
Rising slowly to his feet, the Master of Sunnydale surveyed his surroundings, a slow smile spreading on his handsome face.
Before the stage, Wesley lay, his face buried in his arms, the other Watcher standing stonily at the bottom of the flight of stairs. The dark Slayer stood at the side of the dance-floor, thick metal bands around her upper arms and torso, to all intents and purposes rendering her harmless. The Cheerleader stood on the opposite side of the floor, her chin up, face proud, although the trembling of her lower lip betrayed her.
As for the Witch.
The Witch remained on her knees, her head bowed in humility before Angelus, her hands folded in her leather-covered lap, dark red hair tumbling carelessly around her pale, empty face.
In harsh clipped tones, the dark vampire gave his orders, then leapt swiftly off the stage and stormed away, the source of his ire unknown, the victim of it – soon to be Wesley Wyndham-Pryce.
Still standing on the stage, Spike watched the crowd begin to disperse with a tiny frown. He didn’t have a clue what was going on here, but he was damn well going to find out.
*
In the footsteps of a cowering minion, Spike followed the small blonde vampire through to the back rooms of the Bronze, where several solid doors opened off from the hallway.
The petite minion trotted off to check details, leaving the older vampire pacing the floor, the doors piquing his curiosity.
Each had a grate on it, allowing visitors to look into the cell, which made it all the more interesting for the blond vampire.
“What do we have behind curtain number one?” Standing on his toes, he peered between the bars, realising he was viewing the winner’s ‘arena’ where the dark Slayer was being beaten by the older Watcher.
Several vampires sat around the sidelines of the large room, crowing and laughing with sadistic pleasure at each of the chained Slayer’s pained sobs, Giles’ tired face contorted in a mask of fury.
With a shrug, the vampire moved onto the next room, which was considerably smaller and darker than the previous one.
Inside, two figures were chained on opposite walls, tormented by a third slight figure. He recognised them all, in some context. The more familiar of the chained pair was the whelp, his dark hair hanging in limp locks over his face, his body spent and exhausted.
The other was in a different form to that which the vampire had previously seen, but Spike remembered his annoyingly familiar scent. The werewolf raised its shaggy head, beady eyes glaring at him dangerously.
Between them moved another creature he knew well, as well he might after spending over a hundred years as her companion.
“Drusilla.”
Her pale face turned towards the door, her eyes lighting up brightly. “My sweet little Spike!” She giggled, whirling around and dancing over to the door, her thin hand sliding between the bars and touching his face. “Look what my Angel gave me! I have a little puppy dog now and I can make him beg.”
“Looks like you’re having fun, pet.” He could see that both her victims were in severe pain. She was a mistress of torture, knowing what would hurt them most, but there was something beyond that.
Her naked body said more than he needed to know and the scent of arousal from both of the males made his stomach churn.
“They are so hot inside me, my dear.” She turned to stare at them, her tongue flicking out to wet her lips, one hand sliding down her body. “They burn me from the inside out. It makes them scream…such pretty sounds.”
Pulling away from the door, she traipsed over to the werewolf, her hand roaming down his thickly-furred belly, claws sinking through the fur. Her game face in place, she smirked at her former lover, then jerked herself down onto the wolf’s throbbing length, her fangs embedded in his thick throat.
Slamming a fist against the door, he turned away, moving towards the next door as an ear-splitting howl rose from the werewolf, followed by a demented scream of pleasure from his Princess.
Now, this was more like it.
Behind the third door lay a small cell where three young women sat, each chained to the other by heavy manacles on their ankles, conversing in low, hushed tones, their faces lit by the flicker of a small flame in the Witch’s hand.
Abruptly, the flame flickered out, a silence falling in the room, which was explained barely seconds later.
“Come to claim your prize, my boy?” Angelus’ hand clamped down on his shoulder, the blonde vampire forcing down a shudder. “I’ll give you the key and you can take them up to one of the…rooms upstairs.”
“All of them?” Spike’s voice was a little more incredulous than he had planned. One beautiful woman was good, but three being presented to him on a plate was a hundred times better.
Shrugging, Angelus threw the door open. “I have a Watcher to keep me busy. The other Watcher and Slayer are providing the entertainment. Dru is happy with her Wolf and the kid. You can play with Willow, Anya and Cordelia, but only for tonight.”
Bloody hell. Spike’s mental voice was rambling again, taking in the three scantily-clad women in chains before him. Three women. All mine. For tonight. All hot and moist and female and nice and human and mortal. And an explanation for what the hell has been going on in this dump.
“Are you just going to stand there and drool?” A note of amusement tinged his Sire’s sardonic voice, proffering a long chain to his wide-eyed childe.
Snatching the chain, Spike gave one of his rakish leers. “These fine young creatures won’t be able to walk by the time I get through with them.” His eyes appreciatively roamed each body in turn.
“But remember,” Angelus cautioned him firmly, halting him at the bottom of the stairs. “Don’t take their cuffs off and definitely no killing.”
*
Waiting until he heard Angelus’ footsteps recede into the distance, Spike looked at the three young women sitting on the bed before him with interest.
Each of them was barefoot, wearing clothing that revealed more than concealed, but not one of them could be likened to either of the others in any way aside from simply being female.
Cordelia maintained her air of dignity, seemingly oblivious to him as she carefully bandaged a deep cut that had ripped the smooth skin of her left ankle, hiding her pain as best she could.
Willow refused to meet his eyes, staring stoically at her hands that lay folded tightly in her leather-clad lap, her lips pressed together in a thin line, her hair pulled back severely from her face.
The third girl, Anya, simply stared at him. Her cropped hair hung neatly around a sweet face, her brown eyes curiously examining the tall, blonde haired vampire that stood at the doorway, watching them.
“So, do any of you chits want to tell me what the Hell is going on?” Leaning back against the door, he folded his arms under his duster. Several silent glances were exchanged. “Come on, come on. I just want to know why every human linked to the Slayer is now Angelus’ sex toy.”
“I’m a sex toy?” Anya grinned widely, despite a dark shadow of pain that lurked behind her eyes.
“Shut up, Anya.” Cordelia winced, clenching one bruised fist slowly. “You get to fight next week.” Glaring at the vampire, the dark-haired girl narrowed her eyes. “I bet you found that all very amusing, didn’t you?”
“Well…” With a helpless shrug, he gestured at them. “Look at you. Who wouldn’t be turned on?”
“You’re a pig.” The cheerleader tried to stand, but her bleeding ankle went out from beneath her, a bitter curse escaping her lips.
Raising her head, Willow looked from the Vampire to the cheerleader’s leg. “You’ll only make it worse, Cordy.” She cautioned softly.
“Can’t you heal it?” Spike raised an eyebrow at the Witch.
“What?” All three turned to him incredulously, bright green eyes flanked by two curious pairs of brown.
“I know you helped Cordelia here to fight.” Spike smiled knowingly, spotting the nervous glances flitting between the three. “You help her and heal her and tell me what I want to know and I don’t tell Angelus about that super power of yours.”
Shrugging, Willow laid a palm on Cordelia’s bare leg, a glow surrounding her smooth hand and running down to the other woman’s injured ankle, the flesh knitting together immediately, the blood drying up.
“You trusted a vampire with badly-dyed hair?” Anya looked dubiously at Willow, with a sigh and a shake of her head. “And you think being an ex-demon makes someone crazy.”
“Anya, shut up.” Cordelia glared at the other woman, her eyes blazing.
The young woman raised a neat eyebrow at her riled compatriot. “I get the feeling you aren’t in a very good mood, Cordy.” She remarked calmly, examining her neat nails with a glance at the cheerleader’s broken, chipped ones.
“Well,” Rising to her feet shakily, the dark-haired, dark-eyed woman balled her delicate hands on her hips. “You broke my arm two weeks ago and it still hurts like Hell. Our dearest Master, Angelus, has made me warm his bed every night for the last fucking week because of my damn period, then I had to fight Faith again today and let her whip my sorry ass. I think that’s reason enough.”
“Calm down, Cordy.” Willow rose, laying one slim hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I don’t think overreacting at the moment is a very good idea, if you know what I mean…” She inclined her head towards the vampire.
“Don’t mind me.” Spike grinned engagingly at the trio, dipping one hand into his pocket and withdrawing a cigarette. Flicking his lighter, he held the flame to the tip until embers started to glow. Tucking the silver lighter away, he inhaled a drag, walking across the room towards the curtained-off window. “I can see how you would feel…angry.”
“Pardon me if I seem rude, but what the Hell would you know? Actually, just forget the pardon me. What the Hell do you know?” The cheerleader’s rage was apparently not about to be calmed by the words of her red-haired friend.
Raising his scarred eyebrow, the vampire turned. “Why do I get the strangest feeling that you’re not afraid of me?” He stepped closer to the striking, dark-haired woman, eyeing her pensively.
“If you had Angelus as your master, you wouldn’t be scared of very many other vampires.” Cordelia snapped. Barely inches from him, she stiffened her back and glared into his eyes, challenging him.
“Good point, luv.” With a wry grin, he tapped the ash off his cigarette, his eyes never leaving hers. “Been there, done that, got the missing pulse to prove it.”
Cordelia opened her mouth to retort, but no words came out, a wrinkle of confusion marring her smooth brow.
Lowering his head, Spike kissed the tip of her nose lightly, chuckling as she pulled back with a very human growl. “Don’t think you can outwit me, little girl.” He purred silkily, turning his attention to the other two.
“So why do you want to know what happened, Spike?” Willow took Cordelia’s place, facing up to him in a way that completely contrasted with the humble little witch he had seen downstairs. “And why should we trust that you won’t betray us all to Angelus?”
Stalking passed the witch, he leaned against the doorframe, blowing a cloud of smoke slowly between his lips, a thoughtful expression on his face.
“Well.” He began, examining the glowing tip of his cigarette minutely. “I don’t like the bastard.” He took another long drag, tilting his head back and staring pensively at the ceiling. “Last time I saw him, it was when I bashed his head in with a crowbar to help your precious Slayer. I don’t think he’s going to let me forget that I’m still due a punishment for that little...act.”
“Sure.” Cordelia rolled her eyes.
“Do we look stupid to you?” Anya added bitterly. “If you think we’ll believe that, then you must think we...”
“Knew Buffy.” Willow put in quietly. “She told me. She told me everything.” The other two stared at her. “You wanted to get Dru out. You wanted to...”
“Save the bloody world.” He grinned amiably at her, the imperceptible glance that flitted between the three women going unnoticed by him. “I was never really up for all that Acathala malarky.”
“In that case...” Anya was abruptly silenced by Willow’s elbow jabbing her sharply in the ribs.
“So you want to know what happened?” Gesturing for the vampire to sit on the bed, the red-haired witch sat down on the only seat in the dark room, crossing her legs beneath her, her hands folded in her lap.
Sinking into the mattress, the blonde vampire nodded, pulling another cigarette out of his pocket and lighting it with the still-glowing tip of the other stub. Taking a deep drag, he leaned back, raising an eyebrow for her to begin.
Sitting up straighter, the witch inhaled a long, deep breath, expelling it in a heavy sigh. “Very well.” She said. “I’ll tell you what has been going on since you left.”
TBC...
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