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.

A/N: The poem is from "She walks in beauty" by Lord Byron. Sorry about the shortness of the last chapter I had a formating/word count problem with my computer that I didn't catch until a few moments after I posted it. I will try to write more in the upcoming chapters to make up for it.

Journal of Dracula-

For the first time in my long life I am utterly at a loss. How could I have come so close to my goal to have it slip through my fingers like gains of sand in an instant? Spike was devastatingly beautiful in those moments where he obeyed his instincts. Sensual to a fault even in his struggles. His body was divided in it's desires. Leaning into my touch one moment only to recoil the next. I will never forget how the hue of his luminous eyes darkened. Nor the play of the candle light against his alabaster skin. Spike was truly made to be in the darkness and I was willing to explore it further with him.

He denied me! I, Vlad Drăculea, Vlad Ţepeş, the Impaler, Lord of all Vampires denied by William the Bloody! The insult in unbearable to endure yet I must. Of all the cruel and bitter ironies! I am but a slave to his will if I continue thus! I am the master yet he makes me a fool!

I can not comprehend why he fights like he does. Against my favor I could simply for our history, though he will learn to accept it, but against what he is? It is madness. A creature of the night, one that was ruthless should not be denied. Blood is our life, our way, our passion. Without it we crease to be anything of importance. And yet Spike refuses. Why?

Does the soul weaken the body to the point one is not what it once was? If true I should have no further desire for him. Yet I find it fascinating. What manner of creature is Spike? He is not human to be certain. He is not the vampire I once fought against either. How does one approach such a riddle?

--

He had refused to leave his room for any reason after the blood incident. Not just because he didn't want to be apart of Draculas' little games. Truth was that Spike was disgusted with himself. He had almost given in to the lure of the human blood...and the promise of more. He'd like to think he was stronger than that. It had been a near thing.

What would Buffy have thought? Spike snorted, he knew what she would have thought. What about Angel? He paused from his restless pacing to think on this. Would Angel have understood if Spike had given in to the temptation to drink? He should have since the great poof had in the past, not to mention a few other urges he was supposed to deny himself. Angel conveniently forgot those times however when Spike was the one being put on trial.

Spike has a soul? Well, Angel had one first. Spike slept with Buffy (more than once) Angel actually had her love him. In fact he had two birds that loved him and a kid he magically got rewarded for attempting to lose his soul. Spike had...well he had an old one that liked having him as a pet. That was about it. The lack of anything made him feel overwhelmingly insignificant like always. He didn't even have a destiny to call his own. Spike made his own path.

All he currently had to show for his "champion" status was a great be heap of no-body-gives-a-shit. Angel had made that clear. Spike was never an equal, just a weapon, a grunt, and a sex toy when no one else was present. Here he was losing his footing unsure of the rules of the game and trying to do his best to adapt. It was what he did.

Sighing Spike left the large bathroom he had been lingering in to inspect the window. Normally it had been covered but he had thought that it might have been overlooked when the spells were placed. It wasn't.

When he stepped back inside the main part of his chambers Spike saw the door shutting close behind the maid. Not caring one bit what she had wanted he almost slipped into a chair then recalling who had last sat in it jumped up as if electrocuted. That scent was still present with the blood. It should not have affected Spike like this.

Spike regretted his choice to barricade himself now. Too many thoughts about what could have happened. Would he have been led over to the bed to give into Dracula? Become his bitch once he had taste the glorious human lifeblood? Spike shuddered not liking these thoughts. The images weren't helping either. All to clear he could see himself blanketed by the Counts' body (which he told himself would be covered in boils and frail) doing what ever he could to please the elder in his own drunken fashion.

Attempting to distract himself from those awful thoughts Spike glanced at the flowers and frowned. They had been changed again. Now they weren't even roses nor poppies. At first he thought they were weeds. The leaves had a blue-green feathery appearance while the petals were yellow. Spike noted that the smell was somewhat strong now that he wasn't distracted by what had almost happened. He had suspected that his suitor had a hidden meaning but wasn't sure until stared at this arrangement.

No, he wouldn't...yes, he would, Spike thought when realization hit him as the pieces clicked into place.

In his day, in the Victorian era to be exact, there had been a language of flowers. There would be coded meanings with the arrangements from the giver to the receiver that simply could not be spoken. He--William--had thought that rot was ever so romantic. Never got any use out of it. He had been too much of a coward to tell Cecily in any manner until that fateful night. Dru wavered between adoring flowers and freaking out about them. Buffy...she never would have accepted them from him.

His chest tightened as he touched the sunny petals. No one had ever given him something like this. Gifts that were given to him had been mad affect like ripped body parts, pink unicorns (because he LOVED those) and second hand amulets that burned him to dust. No one had ever...

They really should clean this sodding place better it's too dusty, Spike thought absently rubbing his watery eyes. Silly nonsense was what it was.

Focusing on the flowers he thought about the types he had been given. Blue poppies. Which meant...mystery, right? That didn't seem right, Spike bloody well knew who they were from. Of course they also meant--attaining the impossible. He visibly swallowed the lump in his throat as he sank heavily into the chair not even considering who had sat in it before him.

Tosser thought he was "the impossible"? Wanted a challenge, stupid git, see how he likes it when Spike got free. Right, what was next? The coral roses. Passion and desire. Like he needed that pointed out to him. Spike had see close up and personal like how badly the Count wanted to bugger him.

Last was this one, which Spike guess was Rue meaning regret. Hold on a tick, Dracula regretted their "date"? He snorted. Yeah, regretted that he hadn't gotten laid like he wanted.
--

"Not in the mood, junior." Really he had just needed a bit of fresh air. Strange that the guards hadn't bothered him. Supposed they knew by now that he'd fight back if pressed. Peter still sporting his injuries handed him a note, head cocked in a curious manner. As if awaiting an important answer.

"Yeah, fine." Spike replied to the scribbled words. The boy added more sticking his tongue out as if in great concentration. Rereading his childish handwriting to no doubt proof read it (which Spike found strangely amusing) he held it up as if for inspection. Spikes' humor slipped and hardened face hardened. "No, I am not his new love."

Peter frowned half puzzled and a little disappointed. "Why not?" He wrote back.

"I bleeding hate the git!" He really did not want to get into this with a child but he was persistent as hell.

"He likes you." Was quickly written as if that by his logic should be enough of an answer.

"Really doesn't, 'sides isn't it past your bedtime, shorty?" He wandered off with an air of finality only to find himself in the stables glaring at one stallion in particular. Images from those choice whispers made Spike feel ill. Peter had time to catch up by then with a thunderous expression etched across his features. He thrust the note back at Spike, and feeling a tad guilty for ditching the lad he read.

"The master will treat you good. You will like it here and be happy. I want you to be. To stay." When Spike finished he saw the boy limping angrily away. Bugger it all. Why did he have to have the little ones get attached to him when he couldn't be who they wanted him to be? Spike tried so many times to fit the roles others wanted and was tired of it. Even now he wanted to comfort the boy but knew it was pointless. Couldn't promise anything. Can't agree with what he knew would never happen.

The troublesome horse grunted at him earning himself Spike's deadly glare. Feeling delightfully reckless at the moment he advanced on the creature until he stood with only the gate between them. Flashing his fangs Spike smiled nastily at the beast. "Think it's funny, eh? Let's see how funny you think it is when I'm picking you out of me teeth."

Alright, so he was talking to a horse but he still had his dignity damn it!

"I find you in the most delightful situations." Spike bit back a groan, that bird always managed to sneak up on him at the worst times.

"Wot of it?" He challenged defensively.

"I did not come here for confrontation." Anselina promised. At his expectant look she added: "I bring an invitation."

He should have thought more of what she was plotting, truth be told he hadn't cared a wit. Soon he found himself chucking back drinks with the brides tipsy enough not to notice their lingering hands. "--course I kicked his arse! Big and forehead couldn't hold his own--well fight-like, I'd imagine he does the other bit often now."

The women giggled, one boldly sitting in his lap planting a kiss that missed his lips slightly when his head dropped back to recline further into the chair. Anselina had claimed that this party of theirs would help Spike relax. He was quite certain that what ever her scheme was had got shot to hell by the other brides groping him. She had argued with them but they hadn't given a damn. Frustrated Anselina had left Spike alone with the other women. Vaguely he was aware of them speaking in Romania thinking he was ignorant of their talks. He smirked to himself.

"This is a foolish notion that is doomed to fail." One hissed in the foreign tongue.

"The master will be upset if we have him before he does." Another agreed.

"That is not the plan." The third argued. She had been the one agreeing with Anselina about...something.

"Then what is?" A fourth, male voice asked startling them all. At the doorway stood Dracula smelling slightly of alcohol and furiously gazing at the bride straddling Spike. She had finally made contact with Spikes' lips when Dracula had entered. Meekly she slipped off.

"Well? I am awaiting your answer."

"We were getting him ready for you, my lord." The one who had being using him as a chair replied still in Romanian.

"By getting him to take a leave of his senses?" Dracula inquired, Spike chose that moment to giggle. "Such as they are."

"We--"

"Silence! Leave at once." Hastily the women left the two alone together.

"Going to try an' get me, poofter?" Spike remarked talking to the spot over Draculas' left shoulder.

As tempting as you are in your crass, unbearable, drunkard way," here Spike belched causing Dracula to grimace, "I will have to decline."

"I'm a sexy beast alright." The blond nodded apparently thinking he had been flattered.

"You have made yourself more of a fool tonight than usual." The Count said flatly half dragging Spike down the hallway. He could order the guards to take Spike from him but he did not think it prudent to get them away from their post for this. Hans and Jon had not recovered from their last fight with the blond yet and he did not trust his brides alone with Spike either. Not when he had witness their display. They would speak on that once he had locked Spike away for the night. He had wanted to talk with the younger vampire about the confusion of their last shared meal only to find him in this state.

"Shouldn't a' drank that fast, makes me sick it does." The younger vampire confessed a second before bursting into giggles at the sight of the ruined painting that Madam Drake had yet to take down. Doing his best to ignore the unflattering crudely done image of himself he ushered the other man to his chambers.

"We will speak when you are sober--get off the table this instant!--until then--I do not care what you witnessed a watcher doing--sleep." He rubbed his forehead staring at Spike who it appeared had the attention span of a gnat.

"S'kay." Spike said flopping onto the bed fulling dressed. Sluggishly he yanked his shirt off surprisingly not strangling himself in the process like the other man believed he would. In the moonlight his smooth skin gleamed and his heavy lidded eyes shone.

"Luminous." The darker one heard himself whisper reverently.

"Liked effulgent." Spike muttered senselessly, laying on top of the covers half naked with his curled hair framing his face. Never had he been as angelic looking as he did now. He shamed cherubs with his beauty and now innocent appearing face.

Dracula never had felt such an urge to take advantage of a situation where his intended was not in entirely in the right state of mind. He did not consider the tempting of the blood to be one as blood was a part of who they were. Without knowing how he found himself seated on the bed speaking words that minus the sex of the subject suited Spike perfectly. He changed them regardless to suit the object of his affections.

"HE walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in his aspect and his eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy day denies"

Truer words had never been spoken. Spike eyelids closed yet he smiled faintly. He passionately recited the next verse correctly making Dracula feel vaguely impressed. Even more so since the words were not slurred.

"One shade the more, one ray the less,
Had half impair'd the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place."

Unable to help himself the Count nuzzled the blonds' neck provoking a sigh of contentment from him. The Count kissed his cheek and brow halting when he stared at the lips. Those taunting lush lips that he longed to silence and taste. He wanted to kiss them yet he couldn't. Not like this. He would have Spike when he had earned the victory.

Retreating with one last glance at what he planned on being his prize Dracula thought on the flowers he'd give tomorrow. Burgundy roses perhaps. It seemed appropriate.