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.

Exhaustion had been an old friend to him over the years. He had been tired physically from battles that never seemed to end and from running from other conflicts. Always running away from his problems until they finally caught up with him. While others paid the price and cleaned up after him seemed to be a recurring theme. Of course logically he did know that this incident was not his fault but that didn’t keep him the guilt at bay for long.

With a sigh he brushed his brown bangs out of his eyes again absently promising himself to cut them at a later date. He just hadn’t felt like bothering before and now had other more urgent concerns. Glancing at the sparse room he considered his options. There weren’t many. The slayers barely trusted them to begin with and attempting to move now would only give them an excuse to act on their fears. Not to mention his doubt that Illyria would even listen to him, she always tended to be far more attentive to Spike and even then she hardly listened to him half the time. There was the poor condition of the prone figure lying in the cot in the corner of the room to consider as well.

“Your restless pacing is irritating and pointless. Cease before I still you myself.” The old one said from her spot near the blinds.

She stood stiffly on the other side of the room, watching a crawling spider climb up the wall. She had not moved in over three hours nor spoken more a few curt sentences. Needless to say she was not the best of company.

“Sorry, I just don’t like waiting. It’s not really something I’m good at.”

“Did you not use to stalk your prey?” She asked, her eyes never leaving the spider.

“Uh…well yeah, but that was different. It was before I knew about things like, i-pods and game boys to pass the time.” He shrugged.

“They are addictive and annoying devices that fail to hone your senses.” There was a pause as she finally faced him. Her head tilted slightly. “You could not even get pass level 5.”

There was a tone of smugness in Illyrias’ voice reminding him of Spikes’ similar teasing. Maybe Angel was right, she was spending too much time with the other vampire. Taking the unused cot Connor sat down heavily.

“I just don’t like to wait when the people I care about are hurt.” He said ignoring her pervious statement. “I can’t even do anything else for him but watch him suffer…we don’t even know what happened to Spike.”

Illyria was now completely ignoring the spider though her eyes did not seem to be focusing on anything. Her face had a far off look to it that she sometimes got when Worfram and Hart were mentioned. It reminded Connor of the times he would ask his father or Spike about their past. A type of sorrow filled their faces as the recalled the people and places that no longer existed in this time. The curse of immortals to care for those who died and could never be replaced. He wasn’t sure if he should feel relieved that he appeared to have not inherit his parents immortality or feel sorry for the vampires when his passing would add to their list of departed love ones. Connor could not see himself meaning much to Illyria though.

“Why have these feeling if all they do is cripple you? Once my might would have made the bravest gods tremble before me. Now I am reduced to emotions that are all consuming. I am made weak by this shell and its needs.” She glanced at Angels’ bruised form. “I feel pity for this half-breed and fury for my missing pet.”

Connor noted the almost relieved tone she used when speaking of her anger. He guessed she was happy for the return of familiar emotions and couldn’t blame her. Anger was another old friend that he knew well. It made you feel powerful, so he wasn’t too surprised by the way Illyria embraced it.

“I will rip his captures limb for limb and make them watch as I rip out their hearts and feed them back to them. I will destroy all their senses except for their pain and make them beg for death.” Illyria seemed almost pleased with the idea and Connor had to hold back a groan. He knew from past experiences that when Illyria was on a rant like this it was going to be a long one.

Instead of listening to her his thoughts turned to what had occurred over the last few months. Even though Connor was sick of the never ending fights he had decided to help his father (emotionally) for awhile after the Black Thorn battle. Angel needed the support afterwards and he had given it yet he had held off joining the fight for some time. It had been a pleasant surprise to see that Angel was recovering due to other support he was receiving from Spike. Although he had meant the blond vampire before they had not know what each others’ relationship to was Angel. He could see that Spike was as curious about him as he was about the vampire. Connor had not expected to like him much given the rivalry between he and his father but he had.

Angel had been very pleased, something that hadn’t fit until the visits became more frequent. Connor had noticed the two becoming closer and was happy that for both of them. He had even planned to spend the weekend at the hotel thinking it would be a blast. It hadn’t been. For some reason the two were acting coldly to each other. Their previous playful banter turning into hurtful barbs that made him wince in sympathy. He had no idea what had happened to change their relationship so drastically as neither one would speak about it.

On his last day he had been sparring with Spike. Though still not as good as the vampire he had done well getting more hits in than he usually did. Spike himself seemed distracted to the point that it unsettle their usually fun matches. Claiming to be thirsty Connor had ended the session early and both had left the basement to get their drinks of choice. Later on in the evening he had been in the hotel lobby reading when Spike went back to the basement to retrieve his jeans from the dryer. Connor had heard him take three steps down the stairs until he stopped with a curse.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Spike hissed.

“I happen to live here Spike.” Angel replied in an annoyed voice.

Connor tensed unsure if he should be thankful for the advance hearing he had or flee so he didn’t have to listen to another argument. In his moment of indecision the conversation went on before he could choose.

“Really? You happen to live on these stairs? Is that why your fat arse is stuck in the middle of it?”

“My arse--ass is none of your concern Spike!” Connor jumped back as if stuck at the level of venom in his fathers’ voice. “This is my basement in my hotel so I can sit where ever the hell I feel like. What are you doing here Spike? Going to return to where you belong?”

There was an unsettling silence and he could clearly see in his mind the glares the two threw at each other. Spike must have been struggling to control himself as his voice shook slightly with anger as he answered: “I left something down there, alright? Now are you going to move that thick Mick forehead of yours out of the way? Or are you going to be a good boy and get it for me, luv?”

The harsh sarcasm at the last part made Connor feel like he was missing a big part of the conversation. He did not have a chance to figure it out however before Angel laughed so cruelly that his blood went cold. He had not heard such a laugh from his father since Angelus.

“Do you think I’m ever going to go down for you?”

The words had barely left his mouth before what sounded like a sharp crack came which was shortly followed by a thunderous crash. Leaping into action Connor rushed towards the basement entrance to see Spike shaking with rage. His fist clenched so tightly that Connor wasn’t shocked when he smelled blood. At the bottom of the stairs was his father laying against the cage with a trail of blood oozing from his mouth and the cuts on his forehead.

“What happened?!”

“Your da just decided to fetch my kit. That’s all.” Spike replied emotionlessly.

The following week Connor had decided to stay to look after both of them. For a month they had been together and little had changed. Everything became a weapon to use against the other including him. Angel had become worried for Connors’ safety and Spike would counter that by saying that he was a big boy that could look after himself. He thought that the blond was only partly referring to him and had a hidden meaning to his words. Most of the fights appeared to be using some sort of code that no one outside them understood. Well except for Illyria who brought up “weaknesses”, “distasteful” and something about the wisdom of prey mantises.

A case brought the group into a tough demon crowd and Angel had opted to leave the rest of the team behind. Only the tough demons of the group would fit in anyway. So it had been Connor, his father, Spike and Illyria.

What they had not expected was for a pure blooded demon group to crash the party and try to get revenge on Angel for some past misdeed that wasn’t clear to Connor. They spoke of the four of them as if they were vermin talking about the impureness that their human half gave them. That had set Illyria off and many of the demons died brutally as a result. They all had fought well but the odds were not in their favor.

Angel had been beaten well after their capture for his last run in. All of them would have died horrible if not for one of the surviving demons suggesting that they “market the cattle” to raise their depleted funds. Being shipped in tight crates with two holes stabbed through had made Connor light headed when they finally arrived at the auction house. Spike had whispered that Illyria had been awake when they were brought in. She claimed that she could recall the way out. The only problem was the guards and in Angels’ condition they would never have a chance of escaping.

That was when Spike went into action attacking the guards, yelling for Illyria and Connor to take Angel and run for it. (Again with the running.) Illyria had looked uncetain for a moment but saw the logic in his demand. Connor had taken longer to decide not wanting to leave the blond behind. Seeing his fathers’ broken form had helped him choose and he promised himself that they would do everything they could to rescue Spike.

When they surfaced Connor did not recognize anything and was frantic with a need to protect his demon family. Reaching into Angels’ jacket he found the hidden pocket that his father kept a couple items for safe keeping. One of which he knew was a small phone book with numbers Angel had gotten before the Black Thorn fight. Flipping through he caught the name that he was looking for, the one he was only suppose to use in cases of emergency.

It had taken forever to find where they were, even longer to find a pay phone and longer still to find another after Illyria had ripped the first open to retrieve the change. Connor had waited for twenty minutes lucky to catch her when she had just came home. She didn’t know who he was and wanted to be sure it wasn’t a joke. He had no idea how to convince her when Illyria had taken over the phone. Her voice changed to Freds’ Texan drawl talking in a panicked voice about Angel being in trouble. That had convinced the woman on the other line who told them where to go and who to talk to, promising that she would arrive as soon as she could.

The other slayers they had met weren’t as helpful. Though they allowed the trio to enter they never lowered their weapons or took their eyes off of Angel. Thankfully Illyria had sense enough to listen to Connors’ suggestion to change her appearance to Freds’. Otherwise he felt that things would have been more uncomfortable for them. They were brought to a small room and told to stay until the other slayer arrived for them.

Angel was in bad shape with his arms and legs twisted at odd angles. Not trusting Illyria to be gentle Connor tried his best to clean and fix the worse of the wounds. The blankets helped but he knew his dad would need blood. He highly doubted he could ask the slayers for any. When he pulled his sleeve down to consider feeding his blood to the vampire Illyria had stopped him informing him that Freds’ memories had Angel reacting violently to his sons’ blood.

Great so I can’t feed him without having him go crazy or feeling guilty.

Running out of options quickly he went to the next order of business: resetting Angels’ arms and legs. Connor didn’t want to do it; he had already caused his dad too much pain in the past. It needed to be done though and Illyria was more likely to rip out his limbs then help fix them. Gritting his teeth he went about the process of re-breaking the wrongly healed bones and setting them into the proper alignment.

It wasn’t an experience that he ever wanted to repeat. Angel cried out in pain only to be silenced when the agony became too much to bare. Using the materials around the room Connor was able to construct crude splints until the bones could heal. They had been waiting so long that he had no idea if it was even the same day. The slayers hadn’t even bothered to check on them after Angel had screamed.

“—and the wretched bile that has humiliated me will wither in my grasp screaming out for mercy. “ Illyria finished unaware that Connor had long since stopped listening.

“ Uh…that’s umm…”

“I don’t know…sounds like a freaky way to spend a weekend to me.” The voice from the doorway called out and that was when Faith made herself known.