95. What He Deserves
The two master
vampires grappled for control of
the conflict, in the center of the room, while the Slayer did her best
to simply stand back and watch – though she knew that if it looked for
even a moment like Spike was in any *real* danger, she would have no
choice but to step in.
Angel's safety was a non-issue to her, at the moment.
Besides, she could feel what her mate was thinking and feeling, and she
knew that Spike had no intention of actually killing his sire. Despite
the painful history he had with Angelus, despite the mating claim with
her that had considerably weakened his bond with his sire – Spike still
would not have actually killed Angel, unless he had no other choice. To
kill one's own sire was a crime that few vampires would venture to
attempt – and for Spike, this was not so much about his opponent's
death, as it was about his own victory.
The same could not be said for Angel.
The golden gleam in his feral eyes said that he had every intention of
fighting until Spike was dust, and Buffy was free from his claim.
Never mind whether or not Buffy *wanted* to be free of the claim.
At the moment, however, it did not appear that it was even going to be
a possibility. Spike was firmly holding the upper hand, and was
determined not to let it go, as he rained blow after powerful blow upon
the one he once would not have dared to resist, let alone to strike.
Angelus had taken many things from Spike during his younger years – but
now he was determined to take them all back.
"You know," he sneered, smirking at the older vampire who stood near
the wall Spike had just thrown him into, trying to catch his breath.
"There's just one thing I'm still trying to figure out, Peaches." His
golden eyes flashed fury, in spite of his light, mocking tone, as he
went on, "...whether you're more insanely jealous over losing rights to
*Buffy* forever – or me..."
He shrugged, a light of triumphant amusement in his eyes as they met
his sire's enraged gaze. "Doesn't matter really. Got no rights to
either of us anymore."
With a feral snarl, Angel rallied his strength and lunged for the
blonde vampire, not even bothering to attempt to discount any of his
words.
"I'll kill you!" he vowed furiously. "Then we'll see about that, Spike!
Buffy will be free of your claim, and whatever thrall you've got on her
that's keeping her from seeing the truth about you – and I'll be free
of *you*!"
"That really what you want, Peaches?" Spike taunted him, his piercing
blue eyes seeing enough in Angel's expression to make the older vampire
seriously uncomfortable. "Because I don't think you *want* me dead...I
think what you want is..."
His words were cut off as Angel's weight slammed into him, knocking him
to the ground; but he quickly managed to reverse their positions, using
the leverage provided by his position to pin his larger sire to the
floor beneath him.
"I could care less what happens to you, Spike," Angel ground out
through gritted teeth, his arms trembling with the as-yet futile effort
to break his childe's hold. "All I care about is setting Buffy free
from your thrall..."
"Please!" Spike sneered with a disbelieving laugh, incredulous eyes
searching Angel's even as he struggled to hold him down. "*What* bloody
thrall? All the girl needed to do to want *me* was to bloody well *wake
up*! To want you..." He frowned thoughtfully before shrugging it off and
finishing with a grin, "Well – she'll *never* want you!"
"Shut *up*!" Angel nearly screamed in his fury and frustration, as he
finally managed to free one hand, landing a vicious punch across
Spike's ridged face, and using the opportunity to roll them over again.
Buffy recoiled slightly from the out-of-control, violent rage she heard
in his voice – and then found herself stepping instinctively forward at
the sight of the powerful blow. If Spike was actually in danger, she
would leap into the fight without hesitation – Spike's manly pride
notwithstanding.
But her mate was clearly more than capable of holding his own, she
realized with a surge of pride of her own, as he easily returned
Angel's blow, even from his position on his back on the floor, then
threw the older vampire backward off of him with a snarl.
As both vampires leapt to their feet again, he sneered, "Yeah – that's
the funny thing about the truth, in'nit, mate? Stings a bit, yeah?" As
he spoke, Angel lunged for him again – but Spike ducked quickly out of
his path, catching him in the back with a savage kick that sent him
sprawling to the floor on his face.
Spike wasted no time; in the next instant, he was upon Angel again,
pinning him to the ground, as he growled softly in his ear, "Things
could be different this time around, yeah? All previous claims on *me*
-- including your bloody sire's rights – don't bloody well count
anymore...I *can't* ever be put under a dominance claim again."
He paused for effect, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he
added, "You, on the other hand – are still bloody well fair game, 's
far as I can tell, Peaches..."
The sharp gasp that left Angel's throat at those words betrayed his
fear at such a thought – and the soft, chilling growl that he let out
the next moment made the younger vampire freeze – just for a moment –
as a century-old memory assailed his mind...
"You think you can take me, boy?" the dark vampire's voice was soft,
deadly, as he closed in slowly on the frightened childe before him.
"No – no, sire," William whispered, shaking his head, looking away,
pressed back as far against the wall as he could go, a look of stark
terror on his face at his sire's advance. "I didn't – I didn't mean to..."
"By all means, William," Angelus countered, as if William had not
spoken at all, as he patiently closed the gap between them, placing his
huge hands on the wall on either side of the boy's head – hemming him
in, "you're more than welcome to try."
The cruel, dangerous glint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, the soft
black satin of his voice, so deceptively gentle, only served to
increase William's terror – and his sire relished every morsel of it.
The defiant game face that had emerged, unbidden, at the sight of what
Angelus had been doing to Dru – for once *against* her will – had by
this point receded completely; and all that was left was the
frightened, helpless slave that Angelus had made of him, now trembling
before his master – his sire – his claimant.
"No – I don't want to – I mean – I wasn't trying to..."
The harsh, almost casual backhand across his face was much less
forceful than Angelus' blows usually were – but it was still enough to
drive William's head back against the unyielding stone wall behind him,
and effectively silence his stammered, desperate explanations.
"Go on, boy – try it," Angelus goaded him, his voice bordering on a
whisper – yet so cold, so deadly – so very powerful. "You know you want
to..."
This game – whatever it was, this time, that his sire had in mind – had
the young vampire's entire body shaking with dread, panicked at the
position he was in. He knew full well that if he did as Angelus was
suggesting and tried to fight back, he could be ordered to stillness
with a single word – making him even more helpless than he already was
at this moment.
But if he disobeyed...
"How far do you think I'd let you take it, Will? Hmm?" Angelus pressed,
moving in closer to William's throat, his own fangs glistening
menacingly, inches from the boy's vulnerable flesh. "A bit closer than
this, maybe?"
William flinched involuntarily, jerking away – and the master vampire
immediately grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back against
the wall mercilessly – not sparing his strength this time. He dropped
the calm, patient façade for a moment to snarl in his childe's
face,
"Do *not* pull away from me, boy!"
"I'm sorry – please – I'm sorry," William pleaded, frozen by the
command, the icy fingers of panic closing slowly around his still heart
at the realization that he *couldn't* move away from his sire's deadly
fangs.
"Think I'd let you actually touch me?" Angelus sneered. His hard hand
in William's hair jerked his head to the side, exposing his mark of
dominance on his throat – now throbbing with the pain caused by his
claimant's rage – as his other hand found his childe's hip, pulling him
firmly against him, revealing to him that the desire he had left
unfulfilled when he had interrupted Angelus and Drusilla was still very
much present.
"Please – please, don't," William begged him, his face streaked with
tears that pressed past his closed eyelids to run down his cheeks,
mingling with the blood from his lip, already broken by Angelus' fist.
"Look at you!" he sneered. "Crying, cringing like a pathetic little –
well, *human*! And you think you could actually have challenged me?"
His tone was incredulous, amused even – but still full of that
dangerous, sadistic quality that sent a chill through William's undead
heart, at the knowledge of how much he was enjoying his pain, his
terror.
"No – no, I never thought that..." he insisted. "Please, please, sire,
I'm sorry..."
Angelus released his grip on his hair, edging back just a bit, as he
ordered softly, "Come on, William. Do it."
The trembling vampire shook his head, his eyes closed and downcast, as
he whispered, "No – no, I'm sorry – please – I didn't mean to..."
"Did you hear me, William?" the calm, soft voice held a note of deadly
menace to it that froze William in his place.
He looked up at his sire, his eyes wide with confusion and fear.
"W-what...?"
"I said *do it*, William!" Angelus snarled, closing on him again. "Do
it! Let me show you what a pathetic, worthless excuse for a vampire you
really are, you little *nothing*!"
William flinched from the rage in his sire's voice, drawing back
against the wall, shaking his head in denial. He knew now what Angelus'
game was – and he knew that there was no way he could possibly win it.
"Please don't – please, sire, don't make me..."
"William..."
"I'm yours – I know it – you don't have to – please..." William
desperately bared his throat to his sire again, desperate to prove his
submission.
"William," Angelus took the single step required to bring him back into
William's personal space, leaning in close to meet his terrified eyes,
"Don't make me tell you again."
Aware that it was his own doom he was sealing, but having no other
choice, William forced his other face to the forefront, lunging
half-heartedly toward his sire – and as he had expected, was
immediately thrown to the ground under the larger vampire's hulking
weight...beaten viciously with his fists...torn at with his fangs...until he
could offer no more resistance, had he even had the will to try.
Lowering his fangs to the sobbing, broken boy's throat, Angelus
ordered, "Look at me."
William obediently met his eyes, his own wide and brimming with fresh
tears – and he saw the malevolence, the cruelty there – knew that
Angelus was not through punishing him yet.
"Please," he whispered. "No -- *please*..."
"Mine, William – you're *mine*!" Angelus snarled, painfully wrenching
his head to the side, and plunging his fangs into his throat without
pity, tearing at the throbbing mark of his possession, punishing him as
he pulled viciously from his blood, deliberately causing him as much
pain as possible, using the bond to express completely his rage, his
utter displeasure with his childe.
A last, strangled cry of desperate agony tore from the younger
vampire's throat as he sobbed out, "No...please, sire...please..."
"*Don't* -- please, Spike – don't!" Angel gasped out – and the plea
that seemed so familiar, coinciding with his own remembered voice in
his mind, dragged Spike out of the memories that had momentarily
consumed him.
He froze, taking in the situation he was in – realizing that he had not
moved an inch from the position he had been in. He was staring down at
the older vampire's throat, his fangs poised over his flesh, ready for
the victorious bite that would bring Angel under subjection.
But – was that what he *wanted* to do?
Spike drew back slightly, gripping Angel's shoulder and turning him
over so that he could look into his eyes – the eyes of the vampire who
had tortured and demeaned him for twenty years – now staring up at him
fearfully, full of the same helpless panic that he had felt himself for
all that time.
*Only – no,* he corrected himself grimly in his mind. *Not the same.
I've never been the bloody sadist that Angelus was.*
He drew back again, somewhat reluctantly, rising up off of his sire,
looking down with admitted satisfaction at the sight of the bruised,
bloodied vampire, now trembling with the fear of what Spike had almost
done to him. Angel's eyes were wide, staring up at Spike as if not
quite sure yet that he had decided *not* to humiliate him further,
slowly wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
A slow, soft release of a bated breath, a sound of obvious relief, drew
Spike's attention from his sire to his mate, who as he did, slowly
raised her eyes from the fallen vampire on the floor, to meet his over
a soft smile.
She was standing to the side, having watched the fight carefully, and
he could see the troubled expression that was jus now fading from her
eyes as she realized that he did not intend to finish what he had
almost done.
She knew that Angel would deserve it if Spike *did* decide to bring him
under a dominance claim – or to end his life, for that matter.
That didn't mean she wanted to watch it happen.
Spike looked back down at his sire, whose expression spoke of
resignation, defeat, acceptance that Spike had won the fight – but
still a good measure of jealousy, anger, and resentment that the prize
would never be his.
"She's mine, Peaches," Spike finally said, his tone frank and
matter-of-fact, echoing the thoughts that were so clear on Angel's
face. "And – and I'm hers. You're simply out of the equation, mate. And
as long as you see fit to *stay* out of it – I'll see fit to let you
live."
Angel looked away from him, as he pulled himself weakly to his feet,
bracing himself against the wall. He could not bring himself to respond
– had no idea what to say – and his demon was raging at him to fight,
to not quit yet. Spike had not finished it – he could still...
*No,* Angel told himself firmly, fighting it back. *Leave him be...you've
done enough damage...*
There was a look in his childe's eyes -- behind the calm, confident
composure that made a part of Angel proud, in spite of himself – the
faintest hint of the broken, wounded creature that he had once been,
that Angel had once *made* him.
Angel's soul despised the thought of doing him any further damage.
But his demon clamored furiously for the destruction of the insolent
boy who had defied his sire and taken what was once his.
"You know," Spike could not resist a parting shot, unaware of the inner
battle still raging within his sire. He turned to face Angel
momentarily, before moving toward Buffy's side. "You once told me
something about the Slayer – something I used to hurt her a few weeks
back..."
Buffy's slight flinch revealed that in spite of all that had happened
since her fight with Spike, just before he had been chipped, she still
remembered exactly what he was talking about.
"You were wrong," Spike went on, turning to face Buffy, his expression
soothing as he met her eyes. "Seems to me, *you're* the one that wasn't
worth a second go...but then – I could have told *her* that..."
Even as he mocked his sire, he searched his mate's eyes a bit
anxiously, unsure if what he had said had served to help or to hurt her
injured feelings, still vulnerable at his recent reminder of Angel's
cruel treatment of her feelings, years earlier.
*I was a stupid git to ever tell her about that,* he thought. *Now she
probably thinks she's...*
Buffy's suddenly wide-eyed, fearful expression was the first clue he
had that something was wrong – and in the next moment, his sire's bulk
hit him full force from behind, slamming him to the ground and raining
blows upon him.
His jaw setting in determination, eyes narrowing in righteous fury,
Spike managed to wrench his body upward and throw his opponent off of
him, and a few feet away, before throwing himself back into the fight
with renewed vigor. This was a fight he was more determined than ever
to win.
Those final incensing words had made Angel angry enough to lose the
fragile control he had been clinging to – and now, Spike was no longer
dealing with Angel.
Angelus was in control, for the moment.
*Bloody fine with me,* he thought grimly. *Means I don't have to hold
back...*
Yes, he thought with a sinister smile. That was just fine with him.
His vengeance was at hand.