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.

"Bugger me," Spike mumbled then winced at his choice of words. He had been caught unawares by what the dark vampire had said to him unable to keep that blasted image out of his head. It was like a car wreak, horrific yet you couldn’t seem to take your eyes off of it. He had wanted to regain some form of control over this impossible situation and rebel. Dracula had stolen that from him as well by giving his permission to remain in the stables.

Could mean for me to leave knowing that I’d never listen to ‘im. But if he thinks that I don’t know that he doesn’t want me to leave by saying that he wants me to stay he has ...

That thought process hadn’t gone much further until it confused him enough to give him back some type of sanity. His escape plans were useless with the magic and the guards surrounding him at all hours. Without the knowledge of magic (which never went well for him) or assistance he was pretty much buggered. Though he was going to make damn sure it wasn't in the literal sense.

He hadn't wanted to stay behind in the stables with the reminder of Dracula's words running through his mind. Hours later he was still furious with the Count for one upping him in their little game. No more being caught off guard though, Dracula wanted to play well Spike bloody well wasn't going to by his rules.

Forming his own plan he caught an out of place hue in his quarters out of the corner of his eye. Much to his disgust the flower arrangement that he had previously destroyed had been replaced with another. Like the other this one was not the cliche red roses but an rather odd choice of color for a "suitor" to be giving.

It was not blue roses but coral. Spike knew there had to be a deeper meaning to it as irritation itched through him as the elusive memory refused to surface. The new vase was more elaborately designed than the first, one he instantly recognized from the poncy high collar set days of William. No one back then did seem to grasp the concept of less being more. Always went overboard with the sentiments and dressing up things. Bunch of bollocks it was. Figured that the great git liked such poofy era.

The glow of his small victory had faded leaving Dracula to stew in his frustration. He had waited in the dining hall for half an hour for his reluctant lover. It was nonsense to feel stood up when he knew of Spike's resistance but he was the lord of this castle. He should have commanded enough respect to get Spike to obey his request. Well, his order actually but he didn't want to quibble with words then.

Others had bowed to his will faster, his most hot tempered conquests had all been putty in his hands at this stage. Dracula never entertained the thought that perhaps Spike did not find him attractive. Having succeeded wooing for centuries did not damper ones self-esteem quite the opposite. There had been some thought to the vampires' sexuality, whether the other had experimented with his own sex or was curious.

Those did not last long as Dracula loathed to even ponder Spike with other men. Which was frankly absurd, he merely wanted the body not the whole. Why should he feel such anger, such jealously over a being he simply lusted after? If Spike did not have encounters with men before (which Dracula naturally assumed he didn't) then he would prey on that curiosity.

He would have to be direct without doing what Spike perceived as forcing. No harsh punishments would come for resistance (such as beatings), no trances would be placed, but he could still "request" his company. The line between prisoner and lover would be a perilous line to walk. The Count however felt that he could manage. If his own temper with Spike's insolence would allow.

Giving up the pretense of waiting for a guest he knew was not coming Dracula gave his butler a few curt commands as he regally existed the dining hall. His efforts to restore Elsa and the rest to their old selves had failed. Though news of the elder approaching was heartening he knew that she would be postponed due to avoiding the rebels. The quietness of that thorn in his side as of late was unsettling. He would not be foolish enough to believe that they had disappeared entirely.

All in all Dracula had grown tired of these difficulties that had yet to be solved. For now he could do nothing about either curing Elsa nor crushing his new enemies. Spike was another matter. Detesting the notion of asking for permission in his own home he nevertheless did the gentlemanly thing to rap the door.

No one answered though he heard movement within. He waited for nearly a full minute and repeated his action. A grunt and a muttered curse were uttered yet the door remained closed. Patience as always slipping around the ever annoying vampire Dracula banged the door harder.

"I know you are there Spike open the door at once!" He had expect more of the same silent treatment or perhaps a few choice words to mock while the barrier that separated them remained closed. So unprepared for the door to be flung open the Count almost fell into the room.

"Well now, if it isn’t Count sell out. Fancy pitching a few new ideas for the market. Maybe a line of Dracula approved coffins for the comfort of the dearly departed. You got the other end of the market covered, right? Unless you want t’ go the other way and do a vamp-gone sun screen. Which might be the-"

"You were not in the dining hall."

"‘M not going to, want to keep the blood down, you know." Spike remarked smirking at the snarl he got in return.

"You will dine with me, Spike, if you wish to feed at all." Dracula hissed leaning into the shorter mans’ personal space.

His height should have alarmed him but it felt more like Spike was looking down at him instead. Narrowing his eyes he took in this man who constantly gnawed at his nerves and had begun to take over his mind. Challenging stance, defiant eyes, messy curly hair, wearing loose and dirty clothes. He reminded Dracula of a defeated solder he had once seen briefly before the man was set to meet his fate with the firing squad. Not caring what was done to him now that he had nothing to lose. Though Spike had a type of jeering laughter in his eyes that the man did not. As if for better or worse his own fate amused him on some level. Dracula wondered if when he finally died the man would laugh at the irony of his own destiny.

"That so?"

"It is. We will be using your room since you feel so bothered by leaving it." He grinned slightly at the gaping mouth reaction his announcement received and refused to gloat further. Not only was it beneath him it would not help him with gaining Spike’s affections.

Knowing he would not be invited in nor did he need to be Dracula stepped inside ignoring the stuttering insults to view the flowers he sent. Not liking the way it had been moved to the corner he set it on the table.

"Thought I made it clear, wanker. Not a girl, don’t want your girly gifts. Don’t want you either so you might as well stop wasting your bleeding time."

"And I believed I made my intentions clear." Dracula countered enjoying how flustered Spike became at the mention. "The gifts merely are reminders of my feelings." He hinted not bothering to get into more detail. The secret smile he wore was extremely galling more so for the fact that he now intruded on Spike's small freedom from him. Was this another chance for the famed seducer to show off his power? Spike snorted.

"Don't need reminders mate, not when I get to see your ugly mug all the bloody time. Can't even so much as go to the loo without hearing 'bout your fat arse strutting 'round to make himself feel all useful." The statement had erased the smile but anger had not yet set in. Still it was a good sign that he was on the right track. "They always talk the big man up, y'know? Not that I blame them for wanting to stay in your "good graces" with your reputation with the boot lickers. But that's all it is in't, just talk."

Dracula had yet to reply and watched with a curiously blank face beckoning his servant with the slight movement from his index finger. The short man brought in a small cart carrying a crystal bottle, wine bottle and five glasses. One was already filled to the brim with what smelled of the sickly scent of pig's blood, and two were soon topped off with the rich wine that judging by the aged label was from 1567. The fourth had the liquid from the fine crystal bottle that came out in a thicker stream poured into it. Their waiter then looked from each man in the unvoiced question of the contents of the fifth. Spike answered by glare sending the man fidgeting towards his master.

"That is all we will require for now." The Count murmured swirling the wine distractedly.

The man looked relieved as he hastily existed leaving the cart behind. Dracula had taken a seat at the small table as Spike chose to remain standing. Not able to get a rise out of his rival by waiting it out he continued on his line of thought as if the waiter had not interrupted them with their meal. "Said you going to get the slayer, never did. She kicked your arse all over Sunnyhell, didn't she? Said a lot of rot but you never follow through?"

Lifting his eyes from his drink to glance up Dracula responded as if he was struggling to keep himself restrained. From letting his emotional state around Spike from getting the better of him when he was trying to be a gentleman. To be a lover. "The same if memory serves can be said for you, William the Bloody. I heard that you claimed Buffy Summers as the third slayer you would kill yet you never did."

"Things changed, not that it's any of--"

"As they had for myself."

"Like your little welcome wagon that wants to burn down your cozy home? The crowds always did love to gather the pitchforks whenever you happened by. Anything change on that score then?"

Frowning Dracula realized that Spike must have been implying the rebels but how he came about this information he could not be certain. His servants surely had better sense than to disobey his orders. The words did sadly have some grain of truth to them though he was loathed to admit it he had no great plan. With so little information it proved difficult to come up with a means of attack. To have this pointed out by Spike of all people was very bothersome indeed. "More than you could possibly imagine."

Growing weary of this particular battle and wishing to dine he motioned to the seat opposite himself. "Now sit and join me."

"I'd rather sit in the sun wearing Harris' clothes." The younger man said stubbornly. Even with Harris' tacky choice of clothes he'd have more dignity than sitting with this detested enemy of his.

Dracula was a bit puzzled at the picture Spike painted with him dressed as that buffoon of a man servant he had once commanded. Nevertheless he was not one to be denied. "I told you once before you shall share your meals with me or have none at all. You can survive without blood, correct?" His temper was getting harder to control and he was half tempted to pull out Spike's chair for him knowing how such a gesture was sure to enrage the other.

Meanwhile Spike was debating with himself on what he should do in this situation. He hated the Count but he did not want to go through the same experience as he had after the chip. It was just sharing meals though nothing more...

Grudgingly he slumped down in the only other seat at the table not bothering to glance at the other vampire, knowing if he did he would see the tell tale sign of victory on his face. To make matters worse he knew what he had just unwittingly agreed to--he was now on a date with Count Dracula.

Bugger.