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.

Dracula raised an eyebrow at the stiff manner in which Spike sat on his chair. It seemed so out of place with the rebel image that he presented the world with for so long. The image that he was accustomed to seeing before the imprisonment. Once Spike was the gentleman William according to the reports from Worfram and Hart. How he had come into being as such a distorted version of himself was fascinating in it’s self. Had the changes from being human to demon forced it about? Did being a demon reveal deeper hidden secrets? Or strangest of all, was it all merely a facade?

As far as Dracula could tell few even knew about who William had been. The poetry that Spike still favored showed that something that was hidden. Though he could not see the younger man being good enough of an actor for this persona to be false.

Nothing with understanding Spike came easy, he had assumed for instance that he would uncover the meaning with the flowers. It had been quite the trend in Spikes' time as a human after all. Perhaps it was another falsehood that he would not admit to knowing.

His attention was diverted from his thoughts when Spike drummed his fingers restlessly against the tabletop. His current bane glanced at the door every few moments as if he expected their waiter to join them again. If there had been a clock on the far wall Dracula had the impression that he would be looking at it with the same frequency. That was not an appealing notion. He wanted Spike to be focused on him and only him. How to achieve that without insults may prove futile but it was better than the stifling silence.
-- --

"Tell because I am intrigued, what was the purpose of Angelus working for Worfram and Hart?"

Hearing that voice out of the blue shook Spike out of his musings about the uses of having several brides making him blink in confusion. The question seemed strangely out of place especially considering that the topic focused on Angel. Someone who he had been attempting not to think to much on. Even though he had been in the back of his mind whenever Darla and Drusilla were brought up he had never been talked about like this.

Shrugging he answered with the party line Angel and his gang had given people. "Figured they could take down evil from the belly of the beast. Worked out s’ppose." He didn’t really believe that but he didn’t owe Dracula a better answer.

"The death of most of his associates "worked out"? I had heard that he does not hold many allies but I never knew he thought so little of their value."

"It wasn’t like that prat." Yes he had thought the same on occasion whenever he was feeling poorly towards Angel (which granted was often) but Dracula hadn’t been there. And despite their bickering Spike knew the truth. "They knew how it would go down. The lot of them were fighters ‘couse they knew the risks, unlike some--" his eyes blazed at his companion while he took a quick slip of the blood, "Angel don’t kill off his people when he gets bored."

He’d watch hockey games, sing off key when he thought no one was around and be a general prick though Spike won’t say that. It would ruin the moment. And yeah old Wes stabbed Charlie for his unintentional role in Freds’ death, Connor had left his dad to go insane, Angel had tried to kill Wesley according to Lorne not to mention his own history with peaches.

But really that was hardly worth talking about and by vampire standards was pretty tame. Least in his understanding. Darla had once tried to castrate Angel which in the latters’ opinion (and Spike’s) was a far more unforgivable offense though understandable since she had been carrying Connor at the time.

"The employees of Worfram and Hart would disagree." The dark haired man countered.

"Oh that," he shrugged, "they were evil inc. and knew what they’d get for crossing the line." The blood was truly fowl and he struggled not to make it apparent. Darla always said he made dismal attempts at a good poker face. Well at least the wine would wash the taste away when he finished.

"And yet...if I am understanding correctly...both of you reject your nature by hunting." The Count frowned meaningfully at the half drank glass of swine’s blood. "You have just shown a contempt for my dealings with my staff, yet you are dismissive of the manner of the killings that took place at Worfram and Hart. How is it that I am marked a villain for retaining order, having favorites also, and following my nature while you support his actions?"

Spike wanted to make a flippant comment about Angel being slightly less of a git. He couldn’t, not without it looking like the idiot Dracula (and yes Angel) claimed him to be in the past. One of the many tricky spots with having a soul was dealing with the grey areas. There had been many double standards with the Scoobies, a few he doubted would ever think more on it other than demons equal bad souled or not. He couldn’t say for sure what Angel’s friends were like before their futile run at trying to turn around corruption from within.
He knew well enough the dangers they were facing when they deluded themselves but he did see the grey areas. Oh he wouldn’t join them though Spike would help them and steal from Angel. That way he could (as absurd as it sounds) be the voice of reason. Had to be when Cordelia and Fred were both gone and the gents were all losing their minds.

Torturing humans for information wasn’t much of a line to cross in Spike’s mind, not when they were dirty. He’d never killed humans like Angel did, might if he had to do so. Spike had no doubt how Buffy would view it though. Everything was black in white in her view with souls. Had to be. And humans always came first.

"Angel wasn’t the same in that place. No one was and the tossers that he sliced and diced weren’t saints themselves. Far as I can see you chuck blokes out this life for daring to be eyeing your birds too long. Big difference there mate." Spike said clarifying the matter.

"I’ll accept that answer...for now." Dracula replied neutrally. He leisurely drank from the other glass this time. The metallic scent of human blood wafted in the air momentarily making Spike’s head spin. A small drop stood out against the grayish complexion like a pyre in a field of snow. The overpowering urge to reach out and taste it both shocked and excited him at once.

What the sodding hell?!

It was just the blood that called out to him though, he knew that. Yet he couldn’t keep his gaze from watching those lips as the rich accent filled his senses with it’s dark promises.

"I do not however understand how you can deny what you are. You are a vampire, are you not? Surely you can not cast off such a profound part of yourself as you would a cloak." Instead of using the napkins to wipe his mouth clean the dark lord used his index finger drawing Spike’s slightly drunk gaze to the crimson finger. "Yes, it is what makes us such a...provocative group. Yet it is what makes us truly alive more than those who walk under the suns’ glare could ever be. To deny such urges we are truly dead."

The speech along with the tone had a familiar slightly lyric quality to it that reminded him vaguely of poetry. All the most commanding presences in his unlife had similar qualities to their voices. Drusilla even in her mad way had music about her whether it was telling her visions or going on about cakes and bees. Those little empowerment speeches Buffy had were magic in their own manner, they caught him in it’s spell half the time. (Others he thought she went a little too far with the big talks.) Angelus had always been seductive in his words and while Angel suppressed that part of himself it still came out. In his body movements, in his eyes, and in his touch.

With Dracula now Spike felt the power of the words and the well remembered scent of a forever aching hunger. When the darker of the two shifted Spike blinked lazily in surprise to recall that he was in the bedroom becoming all to aware of the inviting bed just behind the shoulder of the other man. His head felt like it was filled with a fog that refused to clear. Normally he would account such a reaction on a thrall but he hadn’t been watching the eyes when he was pulled into this state. He would have had to be if it was indeed a thrall.

An astonishing soft hand suddenly cupped his cheek turning him to stare into the fathomless eyes of his famed foe. Shaking himself mentally and physically Spike jerked his head back only to find another hand had slipped to cradle the back of his throat. He tried not to shudder at the touch not knowing if he succeeded. Nor did he know if it was from revulsion or at how sensitive the spot being rubbed that made him feel so ill at ease. The left hand which stroked his face still had the blood stained finger which was making it harder to fight his instincts.

Lust and blood were vital parts of every vampire. The soul did not change that only added the human morals into the mix. Humans weren’t perfect by any means and were prone to mistakes. He wanted to be a better man though, one who didn’t merely run on his basic needs. Blood...it was like home, where you belonged, a tie to your identity. No matter how much you changed you could never out run it. Never stop wanting it.

“You are one of the most lively beings I have ever known, Spike. To cage yourself thus is madness. I can...”Dracula loomed nearer and Spike yanked his head to the side to not have their faces so close to one another. “...help you see the pleasures that are to be had by accepting who you are. By embracing it.”

Spike laughed mirthlessly and threw a contemptuous glare. “Right, this the part where you tell me that by joining the dark side we can rule the sodding galaxy? Didn’t buy the DVD not going to buy this either.” He mentally gave himself ten points for his believable bravado. If he kept this up he might convince himself that he wasn’t tempted by the offering literally right in front of him. If he gave in and drank he had no doubt that he’d be easy prey to Draculas’ wiles.

“This is given freely Spike,” he knew Dracula meant more than the blood, “and in return will be taken freely. Do you want it?”

The proverbial bucket of ice water cleared his clouded mind at the last question. Oh, he recalled all too well when someone had asked him that one. His dark princess choosing her dark knight in an alleyway when he was William the bloody awful poet. William the mamma’s boy. William the innocent. He had thought that he had met the love of his life and when she had asked him...

Do you want it?

He readily agreed with everything he had in him. She had taken that as her cue to kill him. To make him into something else. A monster that he had fought to never be again. No.

“What did you say?”

Spike realized that he must have answered outloud. “I said no, now get the hell out of here.” He growled knowing that his eyes must have shone amber. What had just happened to him?