Standing the Test of Time

Author: Erin-Starlight

Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters nor am I making money off this. This is just for fun.

Summary: When captured in the aftermath of a battle Spike finds himself at the mercy of his old rival--Count Dracula. Will he be saved before it’s too late or will he be lulled into something even more dangerous than the Counts’ wrath?

Warning: This is slash. It will have some Spike/Dracula and Spike/Angel in it. This is a challenge I took up to do a Dracula slash fic with the guys. I'm not usually a slash writer but I did it for this challenge, where I had to set in up some in my last fic.

Authors Note: This story takes place after my one shot “William Restored.”

Spoilers: For the Peter David IDW comics Spike vs. Dracula 1-5.

There was a pregnant pause once Anselina announced her theory followed by a humorless laugh. Dracula drank deeply from his evening meal needing the strength to get him through what was surely to be a trying ordeal. He vaguely thought on the less protein todays’ volunteer had than yesterday before finishing it with little ceremony. After their confinement was no longer an issue he would relish the hunt again. Being cooped up was no way for creatures like them to live.

"I must admit that I am greatly amused by this concept of yours. Please enlighten me and explain how such a thing as Spike being someone who we would wait for could happen." He sat back looking for all the world as if he were about to witness a grand performance.

"I have read the cards over and over again with the same results and I have had a series of dreams that involved Spike." She chose not to comment on the odd glance her lover gave her. "A great change is coming and no one in these lands will be untouched by it. The signs all point to the disaster foretold, we already have two opposing sides warring for the peoples’ support. You my lord and this Miahi."

"If memory serves correctly I recall how this tale goes but I assure you that if Spike was this "balanced warrior"--which the title alone assures me he is not--he would have to pick a side. I can not fathom a situation that would have him choose our cause over Miahi."

He frowned at the idea even more agitated at the concept than he would have liked. Surely it must have been because of the likelihood of it. Spike did have a way of twisting events to suit his needs.

"You have joined forces once before my love." Anselina gently reminded him. "I dare say that it is not a completely impossible occurrence."

A suspicious snort like noise greeted her statement. No, he would not bother to correct her. He knew that Spike would never aid him again, debating it was pointless. "I must remind you that you are still a novice at these powers and proper understanding of the signs is needed in this endeavor."

If Anselina found him condescending she didn’t show it. Instead she smiled fainting and nodded her head at his statement giving the impression that she saw wisdom in his words.

"True, one could be gravely mistaken in the mystic arts. Even practicing decades can not make all experts in it’s ways." Her eyes danced with humor as she subtly reminded him that she had been training in magic for many years herself.

It was the way of Anselina that while she was agreeable with Dracula she was also able to point out things he may of over looked without provoking his ire. She did it without malice in such a way that he could listen to her council without appearing to lose face. It was one of the many reasons that he loved her so dearly.

"Agreed," he smiled tenderly at her clasping her hand, "Very well, for now I will hear you out. Tell me Anselina, why do you believe that..." Draculas’ face turned sour, "...HE is the one?"

"I admit that I can not be certain that Spike is but he does play a role in the future. The cards do not lie." She paused to consider how to phrase the next part. "Despite his past brushes with you Spike has showed many admirable traits. He could have used the disturbance to escape but chose to stay and assist the humans." She could tell by his face that Dracula was clearly unmoved by her observation.

"Spike could not escape with the barrier in place." He stated pompously.

"He does not know about the barrier yet nor did he know about the full effect of the bands." Anselina pointed out.

"So he is a fool, this I already knew!" Dracula exclaimed finally letting his frustration take more physical form of pacing.

"Spike still fought on though, even with the magic of Magda working against him." That stopped him in his tracks but she felt no need to gloat as he could turn the tables on her again if she was not careful. He was a stubborn man that needed guidance though he would never admit as much. Using his affection and respect for Magda and her power had made a strong point. One that she knew that her lover could not refute. "That in my humble opinion my lord is most impressive."

Still not facing her or denying her claims Anselina took it as her cue to continue. "The warrior is said to be a being that has been caught between darkness and light. Demon and human. One who is renewed and works to protect the innocent. Spike has a soul that he claims to have earned unlike Angelus. He by no means has powers like yours, Master, yet he was allowed to return to the world of flesh and blood."

Now facing her with great interest, his dark eyes bored into her to find the conviction she had in what she said. Unconsciously stroking his chin Draculas’ eyes glazed over and Anselina felt a familiar chill over take her. Suddenly a malicious smile broke out on his pale face and when his piecing gaze met hers.

"I am not convinced yet...I will know soon, this I promise you. I intend to investigate this matter further."

She suddenly felt very sorry for Spike.
-- --

The next few days were ruthless for Spike, he still ached bones deep from his bands yet he had to carry on with his "chores" for the giant git. His workload was so heavy that he barely made it to bed before collapsing. The only relief he had was that Peter was alright. The boy was currently favoring one leg but he would recover. At any rate he kept Spike company in the stable and listened to his tales. Eyes sparking with joy at the great stories of "The dank dens of donut boy" Peter would silently laugh to the point of tears at the images Spike created. He figured the voices he provided might have helped too.

No one ever bothered them when they were together, a fact that worried Spike to no end. Not even the boys’ mum did anything and she still was uneasy around him even after he saved her life. It didn’t add up to Spike though. If Peter was told to spy on him it wasn’t like there was anything of value to tell. He had made sure that all his stories were kid friendly and never told much about the people they were about. Still he couldn’t shake the feelings of unease he had sometimes when he felt as if he was being watched. Not that he ever saw anything when he checked.

Apollo, a stallion had strangely enough become his favorite horse in the stable. It never acted up and was quite affectionate. Hades was a biter, Hera was a bit of a kicker but none of them was as bad as the unnamed stallion that Peter refused to go near. Spike didn’t blame the lad one bit, he didn’t much care for the creature himself. No matter how careful he was it was never an easy task to sooth it. He vaguely wondered what the arrogant Count would name the beast with Hades taken. Seemed that the old boy had a bit of the taste for the Greek classics.

After the stables Spike would get to feed, not that he looked forward to it much. Everyday was a different type of animal blood to drink. First it was the god awful chicken, then the usual pig and today was cows’ blood. Grimacing from the taste he would be escorted to his next duties. Those duties varied each day but one thing that never changed was the presence Mr. pale and unpleasant. Okay so he had to leave to attend to these "more worthier means of my time" yet he always came back to torment Spike. Dracula insulted him at every turn and ordered him about like his own personal slave boy.

Apparently with his own staff "busy" the clean up from the rampage was left to Spike. Getting out dried blood from rugs was never his expertise in the first place (much to Darlas’ distress) but fixing windows? That was more of the whelps’ thing. Whenever Spike refused threats were made and pain was given through the power of the bands.

"Are you truly incapable to learning from your lessons, Spike? They obey my commands and do my bidding as you will." The elder vampire smiled condescendingly down at him and Spikes’ thin shred of self-control snapped.

"I don’t "obey" anyone and I ain’t about to start being the slave of a pillock that even a puppet show can’t respect. Your pasty arse makes it so a vamp can’t even be taken seriously these days. I wonder why that is?" Spike asked appearing to strain over his own question before brightening with false cheer. "Oh right, ‘cuz you’re a wanker who let the cat out of the bleeding bag about how to kill our lot and are a sodding drama queen--emphasize on the queen mind–-who is a walking cliched relic--"

The answering punch cut his speech off abruptly. Spike’s jaw throbbed, his ears rang with the impact but he was just pleased that this time he remained conscious. It would be down right humiliating if he kept getting knocked out every time he got in a fight with the pounce. Spike expected there to be many more brawls (maybe a little one sided) in the coming days. Ignoring his discomfort he positively beamed at the fuming Count.

"You try my patience Spike. Your ceaseless chatter ends now or you will feel my wrath for each insult you spew, boy." Looming over the younger vampire his black eyes narrowed in contempt, lips turned into silent snarl, Dracula didn’t exactly look like he did on the covers of those trashy novels Harmony read. Even his formerly flawless flowing hair was in disarray.

"Hit a little close to the mark, did I?" Spike answered smugly not bothering to address the threat. "Oh and another thing mate," he glared resentfully up at the other as he rose to his feet. ‘M not your boy."

"You’re whatever I say you are," there was a delicious pause before the Count added, "boy." The resulting scuffle wasn’t much of a shock, nor the pain that followed it. Each day was the same in that regard where the two fought for control. Dracula would demand respect and obedience only to be denied. Spike on the other hand refused to be treated like trash and verbally (sometimes physically) lashed out. He never backed down from his captor on any occasion a fact that infuriated and intrigued Dracula to no end.

Spike could tell that his defiance was not something that Dracula was used to dealing with though he tried to, in his own manner. The fading bruises on his body as a testament to that. Still he was moved onto his other jobs to work for his survival. He would not be fed, or allowed to come in to rest inside when the sun rose if he did not. Staying in the castle made Spike remember why he hated the old days (besides the killings that is.) There was hardly anything from the modern day world present (a fact that he taunted Dracula with mercilessly) which meant more chores.

Bath water had to be brought in by servants for the lord of the manor and his ladies. Spike had to bring in his own water to bathe in and use the few items he was given to clean up with. There was little to enjoy with what would normally be one of the few relaxing treats to be had in the godforsaken land. It was like some conspiracy against him where when ever he chose to get his water heated up there was a line downstairs for others to do the same. Spike had attempted to do so in his own room in the fireplace but whatever spells were in place refused to let a fire stay for long enough to heat water. Frustrated with the whole process he ended up bathing in cold water never lingering longer than was strictly needed.

His muscles protested from the strains of his work and the beating didn’t find much relief in the cold. The one true luxury he was given had been the bedroom where he could find comfort in a novel or in sleeping in the enormous bed. Dreams varied from the recurring one to torments from the past and present. Screams from those he slaughtered would wake him in a sweaty panicked state that would take a couple hours to calm down from. The recurring one as usual would leave Spike wondering the meaning of it.

It was a dream he had ever since he was flesh and blood again. It was full of light, flames and ashes. Spike was never certain whether it was suppose to be salvation or damnation. Was it his last day in Sunnydale that he dreamed about? Or was it when he was being dragged into hell? His opinion changed with his moods and he would find himself distracted staring at the elusive lights, sunlight, fire and once at the moonlight. It felt silly to talk about so he never had.

Loneliness was not something that Spike did well, hanging out with the Scoobies had proved that. Luckily Peter had helped give him some real company but inside his chamber he felt it acutely.

With no TV, magazines, computers, etc., Spike felt bored out of his mind when he wasn’t doing grueling labors. The biggest insult however came when Dracula upon inspecting his prisoner pulled back in alarm. "Such a stench came from you, Spike? I can not feign shock but I can not allow this to continue." With a cock of his fingers a maid trying to watch the proceeding unobserved blushed at being noticed. She swiftly moved forward bowing respectful to her master.

"Yes, my lord?" She asked meekly.

"While it has been greatly entertaining to witness Spike urchin-like state I can not abide it to be seen in my manor any further. Have these rags taken away and replaced with something more fitting." Meeting the outraged blue eyes evenly Dracula watched as Hans and Jon quickly intervened with an victorious smirk. He did not listen to a single threat that was thrown his way only the body language of the furious souled vampire.