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.

"Love is a fire.
But whether it is going to warm your heart or burn down your house,
you can never tell."
Joan Crawford

The shock of Spikes’ escape and the reason it had been possible had worn off the Count. Resentment had began to stir in it’s absences. Had he been played with? Made a fool of by a cunning plot he had not thought Spike capable of providing? He was furious, snapping at anyone who dared to come near him. Thoughts of making Spike pay for this unforgivable insult kept other more dangerous pondering at bay. Dracula refused to consider that other than injured pride he felt a deeper sort of wound from Spikes’ behavior. He would not allow himself to think of it in his righteous anger.

He was certain that he wanted the younger vampire to be brought back to the castle though what would happen then even he did not know. It would have to wait in any case. Neglecting his duties for that lying brat had put his people at serious risk. They would have to come first.

--

A swift punch to the face acted as a wake up call for Spike. Which granted wasn’t as out of the norm for him as it would be for most. Still he winced, more of a reflex than at the actual pain. He was in a tent, gypsy from the look of it, smelling of herbs and spices. Giving his arms a testing tug confirmed his suspicions about being tied up.

From one bleeding cell to another, Spike mused not really surprised at this turn of events. Why should he be when it seemed to be the story of his life?

Hovering above him was a grinning man with horrible yellowish teeth. The malice in his beady black eyes told him right away this fellow would take great pleasure in doing him real harm. This was confirmed a second later when he smacked Spike with something hard enough to make his ears ring.

"Ah, the tyrants’ whore awakens. Good. I’d hate for you to miss any of this."

"‘M not that wankers’ whore you–!" The vampire howled when a searing white hot pain shot though his stomach. Unable to stop himself from glancing down he found the source, chuckling bitterly to himself through clenched teeth. It would be hot pokers.

"Think this is humorous little bitch?" Another poker was embedded into his stomach ripping another cry from Spike. "I suppose you and your master play such games." The mans’ disgust was apparent from his features though the twist he gave one of the metal bars drove this point home.

"Not his...never...would..." Spike denied.

"Ha! Even if our own vampires hadn’t confirmed his scent--HIS desire and yours mingled together--your pretty clothes say differently than your lying mouth!"

Spike realized then that he had never buttoned up his shirt since Dracula had undone it. Strange thought to be having really when thick streams of blood were oozing down his skin onto the clothes. Shame really, he liked those pants.

"N-not his...bitch...you sick fu--!" He screamed. A vicious slice of another heated metal, a knife Spike guessed, cut into his flesh. Slowly peeling away the flesh like an apple skin. For the next hour his tormentor put his tools down to give the more personal touch of beating his victim. Once in a while he would remember himself enough to ask a question. Spike didn’t know what the hell he was talking about most of the times. Some he did know like the defense set up in the castle. Attempting to flee and testing the limits of his prison had taught him a great deal. Knowledge that he would not reveal to this bastard.

Not that he cared for the Pounce of darkness, mind. Spike didn’t want Peter or some of those other misguided people to get hurt. They’d likely get worse if this Mihai bloke had people as nasty as this ugly arse.

Though his bouts of slipping in and out of conscious Spike heard men coming in to ask how the session was going. He added his own commentary when he could glad that he could enrage the Angelus wannabe though he really shouldn’t. The results were always the same. When daylight crept up he was left alone unable to tend his gaping wounds. No blood had been given to him and Spike felt the familiar fear from his chipped days. Living skeletons with distorted minds...he could almost hear the screams echoing from the Masters’ cells. Darla had thought it a good lesson to teach the young ones. His poor Dru had wailed for days afterwards.

Around what he supposed would be noon a younger better looking human entered the tent closing the flap just before Spikes’ leg was able to catch fire. He wouldn’t say the man was handsome but compared to he torturer he was Johnny Depp. It reality he was pretty average, sort of bloke you would expect to blend in with the back round. Yet he acted like he was someone of great importance.

"You...Mih-something?"

The man didn’t seem to know if to be pleased or not about the question. "No, I am not."

Spike snorted having expected as much. The human gave him a withering glance before going on. "I am however part of his council, they call me Dragos. I have heard that you have given Liviu...difficulty."

"Going t’...try your hand mate...?" Spike gasped out.

"I’m not the patient sort to be much good at finding answers like this." Dragos replied pointedly not looking at the gleaming instruments of torture left on tray to his left. "And Liviu can get too carried away with his job."

Spike chuckled hoarsely sounding more like a coughing fit than a laugh.

"He says you claim to have no ties to," his face twisted out of it’s passive facade to reveal blindly hate as he spit out, "Dracula." Composing himself Dragos went on with a noticeable twitch in his jaw. "If you are not his paramour what are you?"

"Like I told...the bloke with the pokers...m’ a prisoner..."

"Can you prove this?" His tone said it all, he didn’t believe for a moment that Spike could be anything else but was going to humor him.

For some reason this irked him more than this Liviu had. Perhaps because it reminded him a little too much of Williams’ peers. Let William say his piece merely to scoff at him moments later. "Other than ...the sodding bands on...m-me wrists?"

Like his undone shirt Spike had forgotten to take off the bands in his joy of fleeing the castle grounds. He had no idea if they were even still on him. The chains made it impossible to tell. Wary and obviously not trusting his word Dragos whispered in latin. His bindings pushed Spike down reopening barely healed over wounds, spilling new blood. There was a click as one of the large cuffs came off though he could not take advantage of it. Pulling a sleeve up the human gasped a second later and there was another clicking sound when the band was finally taken away. Taking no heed of the grunting vampire he left without a word clutching the band with eager hands.

"Be...right here if you...need me..." Spike muttered.

From his bent position Spike could see his wounds clearer. Patterns, maybe words were carved into his flesh. If they said anything he couldn't tell from where he was with blood and blurry eyes obscuring the sight. Not that he couldn't guess the meaning. This torturer had made it quite clear what a waste of space Spike was.

"You are only good for use, whore. No one wants you for any other purpose." He had said. Words truly did cut deeper than any blade. His passion, his weakness that so many had used against him.

"There is nothing good or clean in you. You are dead inside! You can't feel anything real! I could never ... be your girl! "

Didn't matter who it was or how hard he tried, the results were always the same. He hadn't wanted it to be true, he had a soul now, things should be different.

"You can take what you want, have what you want... but nothing is yours."

Angel had not come to his aid as he secretly hoped he would. Not that Spike had any poofy ideas about being rescued by the big strapping hero. It would be nice if for once someone would want to save him. It was the thought that counted really. Buffy saved him to find out if he revealed Dawn to Glory then because she needed him in the fight. When the deranged slayer Dana had kidnapped him it had been Dana that was Angels' concern. He was an after thought. Angel hadn't bothered to speak to him the whole time he was addressing her.

He would have thought that maybe he meant a little to the gang even if Angel wasn't overly fond of him. Maybe it was like Sunnydale all over again after he came back with his soul. Angel could have heard horrible things about him or told past deeds to his friends. If he came back they might regard him just as coldly. Connor might even threaten to stake him though unlike Dawn he might follow through with his threat.

Like Dru the blue meanie had a short attention span when bored. He reckoned she would simply find a new "pet" and forget about him. Seemed like the popular thing to do.

--

"--yes, I am sending it to you. I knew you'd want to see it yourself." Rolling his eyes Dragos handed the wrapped package to a slight demon by the opened window. With a deafening screech it flew off into the night. "I am NOT rolling my eyes I..." he sighed heavily. "Fine. I'm on my way to greet them now."

He closed the cell phone with a snap motioning with his free hand for the driver to go faster. Being the right hand man to a rebel leader had it's off days. "Where the hell am I suppose to get basil out here? It's not like we have a seven eleven around the corner..."

Tapping his feet impatiently he glanced at his watch every five seconds. The time loop made it a trying portal to open but they did have to wait to sunset didn't they? "Of course they can't get the actual portal some where closer."

When they had arrived at the destination Dragos hopped out in time to hear a couple of splashes. By the time he stepped into their view he caught sight of two of the members coughing as they emerged from the waters' depths. A lone woman stood motionless in the pond watching a small group of birds land on the surface. He heard before he saw the movement of the fourth member of the party as he grabbed Dragos by the neck. Already feeling lightheaded he had to squint to see the man. With dark hair plastered to his forehead and darker eyes flickering dangerously Dragos knew he had come to the right spot. Met the right people.

"You--"he gasped as the hand squeezed his neck tighter. "...must be...A-Angelus."

"You really better hope you never meet that side of me." The man answered tightly. "Because this? This is nothing compared to what my not so better half will do."

"Unders-stood." Dragos replied tears rushing to his eyes though the vampire had released his hold.

"Not yet." Not letting up he advanced. "Now I don't who the hell you are but I know you're not Sergio."

"You're deal with him as been t-t-transferred to me. We have the same goals. The Count must be stopped."

"You made another deal?" A young man murmured behind the vampire in disbelief.

"I can take you to the man who will be his downfall," Dragos went on not wanting to lose momentum, "I am here to take you to the one they call Lord Mihai."