Title: Cry in the Dark

Author: ebonyflames

Feedback: ebonyflames666@yahoo.co.uk

Rating NC17

AU Angel/Spike, A/Others

Disclaimer: I cannot claim ownership (or responsibility) for any of the recognisable ATS and BTVS characters - they belong to the god thatis Joss and Mutant Enemy. I just make them dance for pleasure... Oh and if some of the speech is familiar its just cos I couldn't improve on the actual script...  BUT - Gabriel is mine... as are all the new OCs!!!!! A/N    - Sorry that this has been such a long time coming but I haven't been too well and... well RL can suck.  But I have been lurking on and off - there are some great fics out there.  Umm... I will be updating this on and off - but I promise it won't be another six months before the next chpt is out - blame RL and one hell of a plot bunny that I can't not work on!

This one is dedicated to Jen cos she is a fab friend and I haven't been around enough!

 
It echoed through the city. Carried on invisible wings it swept over everyone. It resonated through the hearts and minds of the rich and the poor, the old and the young, the frail and the strong and as it travelled it gathered power. Its call attracted followers from all walks of life, speaking to each of them in their own language. To some it was the trumpeting of the horn heralding a new era, a better life for all. To others it was the trumpet of doom that told them that their time was long past. To one individual it was nothing more than entertainment. He had watched over the past few months as the call had resounded through the city like the cry of an injured wolf. By some it was considered a dangerous thing that must be avoided at all costs but to others it was the chance to play the hero and it amused him. Every night it was one of the first things that he heard when he awoke to the new night. Sometimes it was loud and sometimes quiet... but it was always there. It was the new pulse of the city that he had adopted as his own. Tonight was no different. It was still there. Not as loud as usual but still there, a silent drum that all were marching to whether they liked it or not. From his rooftop home his sharp hearing had picked up the call of the students in the night time streets below him as they tried to stir up the people with their ideas about the Enlightenment and the way that people should be living their lives. He had to admit their arguments were persuasive but he didn't quite believe that they would ever achieve their ideals of a Utopian society, it would take an eternity to achieve such a dream and they hardly had that. They didn't even understand what the real evils in the world were, they thought that the nobility were one of the main protagonists of the peoples suffering; they would probably be a little quieter if they knew that the real demons could hear them. If a utopian society was to be founded then he supposed that it would have to be the demons that created it... they had the time and the strength to achieve such a feat, humans were as insignificant as the light rain that was beginning to fall.
 
Stepping out on to the balcony of his lofty home he stretched, cracking his muscles out of their daytime lethargy. It was the first night in a long while where he had awoken refreshed. For the past fortnight he had gained very little peace during the day. His skin had prickled as though healing from a burn and his blood had run hot and icy cold and he had sweated and shook despite the balmy spring days that they were experiencing. It had seemed to him as though he was suffering some kind of human malady but he knew that was impossible – given that he hadn't been human in so long and he wasn't even sure that his species were actually susceptible to any kind of illness. Even though he had comforted himself with that thought he had decided that if anything more occurred he would look into it properly...  But tonight it seemed as though his fears had been unfounded. There were no more foreign whispers in his mind and his body was once more under his control. He allowed himself to exhale and drain the tension from his body. As he stood on the balcony of his roof top home he let hi cat like eyes surveyed the city that he had called home for the past few centuries.
 
He had not had the fortune to be born in the sprawling metropolis, no he had been born in a nowhere land, devoid of art and culture where the people had been happy to spend their short days tending to their crops and livestock. He hadn't realised how much he had missed, how little he had lived until he had left. Seeing the world through new and brighter eyes, he had learnt about more things than he ever believed could exist. But it had been Paris that had ensnared him. Not until he had wandered down its dirty streets, avoiding the whores and the beggars and almost being mowed down by the carriages of the rich had he understood the true power of a Siren, but she was his. And now, after all the years she was more his home than any other place that he had visited and the life that seemed to vibrate in the city called his name. As he watched the lights twinkle and listened to the cacophony of noise that vibrated from the streets so far below his feet he wished, and not for the first time, that he had been born in the city, that he could be classed as a true son of the magnificent beast, but he was quite willing for time and the passing centuries to do that for him. One way or another there would be a day when he was referred to as a Parisian.
 
Bored of his introspection the vampire turned back inside. From a large armoire he pulled a thick woollen coat, scented with amber from the little bag that rested in the bottom. Pulling it on, he let the thick fabric settle mantle like over his regal form before stepping out into dark night and dropping from his nest to the streets below. He loved the smell of the night; it was always so much crisper than the day, not so clogged up with hustle and bustle of daily life. At night you could really smell what the city held and this night held the promise of...discovery...  Lifting his head again he took a deeper breath, filling his nostrils with the varying aromas that told the tale of everyone from stale rotting beggars to fattened sweet barons. It was odd but there was something not quite right with the aroma of the city tonight, there was a scent that stood out so much more than all the others and like the song of Pisinoe, was luring him deeper and deeper into the city. It was... he couldn't clarify what it was that he could smell. It was sweet like the pastries and cakes the rich were able to gorge themselves upon whilst the poor fell hungry at their feet. It was thick, cloying like blood in the back of his throat and exploding over his taste buds like the first kill of the night. It was ripe like summer apples and fat oranges and yet there was a sour note to it, a staleness that was completely contradictory to everything else. His curiosity and senses aroused he couldn't do anything but follow the alluring scent deep into the squalid dark of the city.
 
Like the most tenacious bloodhound he tracked the scent, pursuing it down every ramshackle alley, over bridges and down streets even the most starved demon would hesitate before entering. The trail flew all over the city, eager and exploratory as it mapped its way around the capital. Eventually it seemed to calm leading him through one of the more ignominious areas of the city and into a small darkened tavern. A look of disdain crossed the vampires elegant features as he took in the building, his straight nose crinkling at the odour of stale ale and piss that were emblazoned around the had it been any other moment in time he knew that he wouldn't have even dreamed of crossing the threshold of such an establishment not even to escape the rays of the sun but unfortunately for him his quarry was hiding within the dirty brick walls and he was consumed by his thirst for knowledge. It was the type of place that bred all manner of disease and not just the pathogens. The humans that inhabited the place were some of the lowest life forms that any population could spew forth and he imagined that the same would have to be said for any demon that decided to patronise such an establishment even if they were only there for a quick snack. He could hear the raucous laughter of the drinkers from the outside and the stench of stale ale was overwhelming to his powerful senses. The door opened, vomiting one of the patrons to his feet as the man lurched through the wooden door and collided with the still figure of the vampire, still wrestling with the idea of entering. Using the vampires coat for leverage the dirty creature pulled himself to his feet, smiling a drunken grin into the feline face and exhaling a greasy breath of rotten teeth and alcohol. Contempt for the creature before him flared in his gut, his teeth itching with fury at the audacity of the man to use him as a prop. With a start he realised he had yet to feed, so consumed in his hunt he had ignored his thirst. Cursing the Powers he crushed the unkempt figure to his strong chest, used the lanky hair he yanked the man's head to the side before sinking his teeth into the thin throat.
 
Blood filled his mouth, rich and thick despite the ill health of its host. He could taste the undercurrent of ale that seemed to be the man's staple diet as he gulped down mouthfuls of life. He felt the man buckle against him as he swooned from the blood loss and he tightened his grip, hearing brittle ribs snap under his arms. Inevitably there came the wet rasping sounds from the mans lungs as he tried to suck air into his failing body, his heart working faster as it pumped the blood into the waiting mouth. He heard the heart slow, the once rhythmic thumps now sporadic and slow and he dropped the barely alive corpse to the ground, toeing the dying man into the gutter before the heart gave out. Some vampires loved that last draught as the heart gave up its final precious drops but his family found it intolerable. They found it bitter and sickening and for the younger ones amongst them it could often be painful. The tip of a pink tongue swiped at the corners of his mouth as he turned his attention back to the hostelry in front of him. There was nothing about that place that appealed to him; there was nothing that made him want to enter through its darkened doors. Curiosity, however, overrode his natural inclination to avoid the den and find out what had drawn him here. And now that his stomach was sated there was nothing preventing him from doing so.
 
The bar was lit with a few sparse candles and the occasional oil lamp, throwing welcomed shadows across the majority of the large room for those customers who didn't t want to share either their business or their identities with the rest of the world. He too found the lack of illumination rather comforting as it would allow him to identify and observe his quarry without revealing himself. As he swept the room with a cursory glance he noticed with some relief that there were plenty of unoccupied corners he could nestle into as he whiled his time there, and hopefully he would be able to pass the entirety of his visit unnoticed by all. His glance also confirmed one other thing to him as he settled himself into one of the darker corners of the tavern, there was nothing out of the ordinary within this place. Except for the rancid smell that he was doing his very best to ignore. Apart from the scent of whoever he was tracking there was nothing in the room to indicate who it was, there was no trace of any creature of sufficient power magical or otherwise that would be able to charm him to this very place so ably. And that left him very confused. Had he walked into this dark little den and found a warlock or powerful demon he may have been able to understand why his senses had picked up on the creature, but he could feel nothing. There was only the sweet and sour scent to tell him that he had indeed come to the correct place. That very fact heightened his curiosity further. Because there was no fresh magic in the air, the creature that was calling to him was doing so subconsciously. It was totally unaware of both its own power and his presence and that very fact made the hunt all the more worthwhile.
 
As he settled down into his darkened corner, pulling his coat tighter around him and melding with the shadows, he took his time to observe the taverns patrons. He deftly avoided catching the eyes of anyone but took his time to study them all individually, determined to find his Siren. His attention was finally drawn to his immediate right. Shrouded in the dark of the intimate corner sat a young couple, far too preoccupied by the journey that the young mans hand was making up the girls leg to be paying any attention to the refined predator that sat so close to them. As their lust built and peppered the air with its salty tang he found himself forgetting what had brought him here and focusing solely on the amorous tryst he was privy to. He allowed his mind to wander, drift effortless out of his own body and towards the pair, revelling in the pleasure that both parties were experiencing. He couldn't help it as he wrapped his consciousness around both minds so effortlessly, as naturally as breathing had once been, and sinking into them, becoming more than an impartial bystander to their arousal. Colours burst behind his eyes, rich reds and passionate purples betrayed the small explosions the man's finger on the woman's sex created to the shadowed watcher and he felt his heart beat in answer to their passion. He panted with them, shallow breaths of air he didn't need but had to take, had to taste the air they gave off. The honeyed sap from the woman's core stirring at his hunger as the man moved his hand faster, letting her bucking quivering form sate his own pleasure as he worked her. The purples and reds spiralled out of control, kaleidoscopes of colour brightening into a blinding white as they both neared completion.
 
Muffled groans of pleasure permeated the thick fog around him as he found himself shocked out of their minds and toppled off his chair as a powerful force punched him from their consciousnesses. He imagined that the force of the blow was how a punch from a vampire felt to a human as he righted himself, gracefully pulling himself up and standing his toppled chair. He was relieved that his clumsy indiscretion had gone as unnoticed as the couples climax but noted with some remorse that his brutal expulsion from their minds had left both humans wincing with pain as their afterglow faded. More determined than ever, his eyes flicked wildly round the small dim room until they settled on a young brunette sat at a table of rambunctious card players laughing and drinking as if he were one of them. It was a shock to the elder vampire to find out that he really wasn't; as for all of his animated chatter suggested, the young man was in fact a young vampire.
 
A lone, young vampire.
 
A part of him was appalled by the way in which the Childe, for there was no possibility he was anything less, had integrated himself with the humans that surrounded him. He was laughing and chatting with them as if he were a life long friend, guzzling at the ale before him and flicking card after card onto the stained tabletop. He became more affronted as it dawned on him that the Childe was doing this for no other reason than he wanted to. His charade was not part of some long winded hunt nor was it part of some obscure challenge. It was perfectly obvious that the young vampire was sat with the very canker of humanity for the very simple reason that he wanted to. It disgusted him as much as it intrigued him no normal Childe would ever lower himself to do such a thing.
 
And then it happened. It was nothing momentous, nothing earth shattering but the simple action of the Childe tipping his head back and laughing, a deep belly laugh that made his eyes sparkle and his red lips open wide, sent his world spinning off its axis. He knew at that moment that those dark laughing eyes would be forever burning in his mind...
 
Small spatters. Insignificant really. Miniscule.
 
Tiny droplets hit his long wool coat leaving shimmering specks as they soaked into the expensive fabric. He ignored it. At any other time the water would have been an annoyance as the weather cost him yet another valuable piece of clothing but tonight it was a welcomed relief. The rain hid the tears that threatened to gather, the wind howled tales of his frustration for the entire city to hear and at almost a thousand feet above the ground, and the air had an icy edge that was as sharp as any blade could ever hope to be. Had he been softer he imagined that it may had cut into him but he had hardened to the elements a long time ago. And, even if he hadn't, the past six months of running and searching would have had some effect. This wasn't the first building he had stood on the top of since that night in L.A. so long ago. It wasn't even the 21st. But even if it were the one hundredth, one thousandth, one millionth he wouldn't stop. He would never stop until he had his Childe back where he belonged. But he could feel it this time. The end to the hunt was coming close and his blood was racing as he thought of the prize that the finish line possessed. His quarry had to be tiring. Even a vampire his age would be weakened by constant running for almost seven months, the absence of food and resources would take its toll on any creature
 
And that didn't even begin to cover the suffering that his prey had been through before he had run.
 
Gabriel shivered as the cold of the night finally made its way past his thick coat. Seattle wasn't the warmest of cities in winter but he had endured worse and would endure worse to find Angel again. His sharp green eyes scanned the distant horizon. Even from his spot on the top of the Bank of America Building he could make out the people as they moved through their lives far below him. The humdrum cacophony of daily life echoed in his ears and he could even smell blood as it was carelessly split somewhere on the streets below him. It amazed him still at how humans lived in this day and age. They rushed through life focusing on work and money and when their short time was spent they lamented missing out on the important things. On missing out on their child's first play or their father's birthday party. Over and over the same regrets were spilled as a deathbed confession. He saw it swirl through their minds as he drained them of their life and every time it truly amazed him. Day after day humans created more and more gadgets with which to make their lives easier. They could cook an entire meal within 2 minutes and yet they still had no time for the important things in their lives. Well, Gabriel planned to make use of his observations on humanity. Even though he had eternity, he still did not plan on wasting a single moment with his Childe. He had already wasted two centuries he didn't plan on wasting a third.
 
A stronger gust of wind whipped at his coat yet he refused to move from his position. If he moved then he may miss out on a crucial piece of information. If he dared to breathe he might miss that one tell-tale sign that would end his months of suffering. He simply closed his eyes and ears to the world and let his mind fall far away following the elusive trail of familial blood as Angel continued his flight. But there was nothing there, just the faint call that told him Angel was still in Seattle.
 
He had waited 240 years to have Angel and over all those years the memories of the first time he had seen the vampire had yet to fade. He had known from the very moment he had seen him that they were meant for one another. But Fate, as it would happen, had different ideas. It had taken him so long to convince the Elders of his innocence regarding the debacle over Liam. Naturally they had been inclined to believe Nest, he was an Order Master and the boy's Grand-Sire, not to mention a powerful foe. The Council had been hard pressed to reject his claims on the boy, knowing that his volatile temper should he not get what he and his Childe were rightfully demanding would threaten the very stability that the Council had worked so hard to achieve. He had been mortified when they had ruled that Liam was to return to his Sire and a dark rage had settled over him that day... a darkness that hadn't truly lifted until he had seen Angel stood on that rooftop in LA. Fate though seemed to have a twisted sense of humour. After years of arguing, pleading and debating he had finally convinced the Council and his own Elders that he had been innocent and that they should allow him to have his prize, yet it was ironically held away from him, trapped behind the strength of a Claim initiated by a small white-haired vampire who didn't appreciate what he had.
 
He couldn't help the snarl that rumbled over his lips as he remembered Angel's red eyes and tear stained cheeks as he heard the tale of the pain his boy had been through since they had first met. His boy had been sent to Hell both literally and figuratively and Gabriel cursed his own Order in every language he knew because he knew, deep in his gut, that had they not stood in his way all those years ago, so much suffering both Angels and his victims could have been avoided. He knew that if his search brought him upon that creature that had caused the most recent of Angel's wounds he wouldn't hesitate in destroying the white-haired vampire in the most painful way he could devise. He had been ready to do so that night at the ghost's apartment. But the sight of Angel, a broken shell of the creature that he should have been, kneeling at his feet no longer having the strength to stand and begging for him to understand, had ripped into the very heart of him. He was unable to bring anymore hurt to his Childe. So for the first time in his five centuries on the Earth, Gabriel had walked away from the fight.
 
Only to have Angel flee from him as soon as they were safe...
 
He had howled at the moon that night anger and frustration erupting from him in a cry that chilled the very hearts of those who had hurt him. It was the very echo of the wail that he had let out the first time Angel had been taken from him. It was the soul-wrenching sound of Sire losing their Childe.
 
He had mourned the loss of Liam as if he had already managed to turn him into his Childe, even though their relationship had consisted of nothing more than sharing a bed and one another's bodies and occasionally blood for a little more than a year. It had been an unnatural relationship for both vampires to be a part of, especially considering the number of Council rules that it had broken, but neither had been able nor willing to walk away from it. For a year following the Elders ruling he had been depressed, his days were as black as his nights and all he could see was an eternity of nothing stretched out before him in long shadowed nights. He had been so despondent he had been on the verge of suicidal. He had refused to hunt, had starved himself for weeks on end and had even gone so far as to try to walk out into the sun.
 
An irate older brother had been all that had stood between him and immolation.
 
His brother had been furious, but his hazel eyes had lost their cockiness and were filled with fear. His tawny skin was ashen and his hair unkempt and his usually pristine clothes were torn and dirty from day after day of wear. In other words he was frantic with worry for his younger sibling and had done the only thing in his power to do. He had called their Sire home. Tristan had raced over the continent as soon as he received the summons from his eldest Childe and had taken one look at both of his Childer before chaining Gabriel to the wall of their cellar.  He had heard the debates in the Council and he had believed that his youngest and perhaps most headstrong Childe had indeed stolen the young vampire, that was until his Favoured had laid into him.  Lucien had told him of the state Gabriel had been in ever since the ruling had been passed.  He had told his Sire of the sleepless days, scream filled nights and utter torment his young sibling seemed to be going through.  He had watched with wide hazel eyes as his words stirred his Sire into a deepening rage.  Tristan had practically ripped the chains from their brackets before taking his distraught Childe into his arms and feeding him from his own veins.
 
He had forced fed his youngest from his veins for over two weeks before he had sat down and spoken with Gabriel, and his heart had broken as his youngest had poured out his grief in a huge gasping sobs.  He had held the trembling vampire tight against him as Gabriel spoke with such passion about Liam.  He had described the first time that he had seen the dark wild boy.  He had described in every detail the way the other vampire moved, that at first glance one would think he was the most arrogant devil to ever walk the earth.  But Gabriel spoke of the quiet vulnerability he had spied, the desperate need for love that had filled those dark eyes.  He spoke of the obsession that had overtaken him upon the dawning of every new night.  The fact that he had had to see his wild boy before he could even contemplate feeding, no matter if finding him had taken all night. 
 
And the rage, the blood red fury that had clouded his vision when he had spied that group of minions closing in on the unwary Childe.  Gabriel had swept through them with the ferocity of a hurricane, not caring about causing them pain but ensuring that they were wiped off the face of the earth.
 
As the dust settled at his feet Gabriel whirled round, his dark golden eyes turning back to their natural viridian, his fangs receding, as he took in the crumpled form of the Childe in the alley way.  His beautiful face was marred with cuts and bruises where the ferals had managed to get their claws into him, dark welts against the creamy perfection of his skin.  His fine clothes were torn and tattered, hints of tempting flesh calling to Gabriel through the tears.  With a trembling hand he swept some of the unruly dark locks away from the face they were trying to hide, his thumb lingering as it traced one angular cheekbone and swept over the full lips.  He watched as the soft black eyelashes fluttered, and a soft smile curved onto his face.
 
"Shh... hush now little one... your safe... Gabriel has you... sleep now my beautiful boy." 
 
He picked the young vampire up off the cold floor and cradled him gently in his arms.  He didn't see anything other than the dark haired youth, astonishing in his beauty, as he let his feet guide them back to his nest.
 
As Gabriel told Tristan of how he had seen Liam, so young, so promising, wandering the streets of his home city and how fascinated he had been by Liam, Tristan realised one thing – it was more than fascination.  Gabriel told him everything – about Liam's thirst for knowledge, his passion for the hunt, his eye for and his love of beauty – from the whore on the corner to the majestic architecture of the Sun King's Palace.  It was clear in Gabriel's voice that he was captivated; he was totally and utterly entranced and unable to control himself because of it.  He smiled as he described how the brunette had smiled, he chuckled when he spoke of the things that had made Liam laugh and he had obviously fallen in love with the city once again as Paris had charmed the young vampire. 
 
All vampires had a bond with those that they turned but Dagon vampires had a very distinct Sire Childe relationship.  All vampires had to worship their Sire; it was a thrall that came with the transfer of blood from one to the other.  For most vampires it was a subliminal method of control, a way to guarantee that they always held their Childe in complete submission.  But for Dagon vampire's it was very different.  They loved their Sire's, but only the smallest part of that had anything to do with submission – it simply was familial love.  For some it never grew beyond a parental/child bond but for others it was a torrid and passionate affair.  But the unique quality of the Sire Childe bond for The Order of Dagon was that Childer held their Sire's in thrall.  From the moment that they were first seen as a human, sometimes even merely sensed, the vampire that was to become their Sire was infatuated with them.  They inevitably stalked them, watching over them and ensuring that no harm came to them before they were ready to be turned.  Then they couldn't leave their Childe alone.  For the first twenty years of life it was unheard of for a Dagon vampire to leave their Sire's side, purely because the bond was so strong and the Sire simply couldn't bear the separation.  The intensity of the relationship gradually faded to become what it was meant to be – familial or passionate – by the time the Childe reached the age of 100 and from that point on the relationship between the two was mutually agreed upon, with the Sire and Childe taking leave of one another whenever they chose to.  It only tended to be the Favoured that stayed in close contact with their Sires.
 
Tristan realised that Gabriel was in Liam's thrall, and the only way for the thrall to be broken was for Gabriel to lay claim to Liam as Fate intended him to.  The dark haired Irish fledge had utterly enthralled and ensnared his Childe.  He had crawled into his blood and was destined to remain there until both of them were dust.  There was nothing that could be done about that now.  Fate had wanted them to meet; she was the one who had sent Liam's siren song out on to the night wind for Gabriel to follow.  But Fate was also a cruel Mistress.  She could make someone as easy as she would break them.  Bough and bark bent to her commands and no one could go against her will.  Gabriel was destined to suffer.  He was ordained to wait until the world was ready to unite him and his Childe, and Tristan couldn't think of a worse fate for any creature that roamed the earth.  He knew how it pained him every time his Childer took their leave – and Gabriel was his youngest at nearly three centuries of age.  He had walked the Earth for a millennium and had never felt anything as wrenching as watching his Childer leave him.  He couldn't imagine the pain Gabriel was in.  To have found his Childe and be denied... it must be agony.
 
As his youngest fell into his arms he saw the true depth of pain blazing in Lucien's wide eyes.  He held out his hand to his favoured and brought them all together, a family bound by one another's triumphs and pains.  And this was one of the more painful times.  He ran his hands through the unruly hair and held both of his boys tight to him, trying to work out what he could do to alleviate their pain.  Unfortunately for all of them though, the Elders had already ruled that Gabriel was to leave Liam alone and it was unlikely that either Darla or Nest would allow him anywhere near.  If Tristan and Lucien were to help Gabriel then they would have to play within the Court rules and that meant that whatever answer was given, it would be a long time coming.
 
And now it had come, after so many years of waiting it was here, the time that Gabriel had longed for.  Angel was to be his.  Angel was his.  His blood now ran in the boy's veins.  His marks lingered on the pale throat.  His lineage was traced in every pale blue line that ran through the body.  He knew that.  But it didn't help.  Angel was still missing and Gabriel was helpless.  All he could do was watch and wait and hope that the blood pound round Angel's system would let its own cry out into the night, calling Gabriel to him.
 
He opened his eyes once more, focusing and narrowing them into cat like slits.  He cocked his head as he listened.  There.
 
With a small smile he dropped off the roof, plummeting to the ground below, as silently as the rain that fell.
 
 

 

"Sodomy non sapiens," said Albert under his breath.
"What does that mean?"
"Means I'm buggered if I know."
-----
Terry Pratchett, Mort