Title: Acrylic Dreams (4/?) Author: Foxhunt2blue Summary: Written for the FG Anniversary Edition Challenge #30. AU Universe where Angel is a reclusive artist and William is a young writer determined to write a book about an artist who should be older than he appears. Rating: NC-17 (all over rating) Pairing: Angel/Spike, Angel/William Disclaimer: Our wonderful Joss created them I had nothing to do with it—wish I had. Frankly the boys would be a lot happier with me as their mama! *web Feedback: Please feed the baby slash ho' cause she can be quite pathetic. She cries all night if she doesn't get her daily dose of feedback. *giggle E-mail: foxhunter2blue@peoplepc.com Previous Chapters: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=angelstart&keyword=Acrylic+Dreams+Series&filter=all *** Outside the storm was moving closer to shore and the rumble of thunder shook the walls of the house like an earthquake. Liam sat staring at the young man who had spoken the name he hadn't heard in too many years to count. So much like his lost lover, far too much, and it made Liam's head spin. "Angel..." William whimpered softly his head thrashing against the pillow. Standing he moved to the bed and settled on the edge of the mattress reaching for the bowl of water that sat on the night stand. Reaching in he rang out the wash- cloth, then gently wiped the fever flushed face of the young man. Liam cooed softly trying to calm what- ever nightmares the boy was suffering from. "Hush now sweet boy. I'm here to take care of you." William's eyes fluttered open, pupils dilated, and unfocused. "Angel...?" "Aye...it's me." His eyes fluttered close again. "...angel..." he mumbled softly. Putting aside the bowl Liam reached for the phone and hit speed dial. Patiently he waited until he heard the soft, tired voice on the other end. "It's me...I need you to come to the house." He paused frowning as his eyes focused on the whimpering man in his bed. "Aye...I'll tell ye when ye get here." With a soft sigh he settled the phone back in the cradle, then turned back to William Danridge. "Don't know how? Don't know why, but I know it's you me sweet boy." His fingers traced along the feverish brow. "It's you and this time I'll not be letting you go." *** London Wells & Jensen Publishing Faith Alexander unlocked her office door flipping on the lights with a sigh. It was still early and few people were out and about. She was worried about William. The last time she had spoke with him he seemed far away, not himself. Dropping her briefcase on her desk she went back to the break area and started a pot of coffee. As the water dripped into the pot she stared out the windows that faced out on the Thames. Fog shrouded the streets below giving everything an ethereal quality, a dream like appearance that sent shivers down her spine. Perhaps she shouldn't have sent him to the States, but she had hoped to draw him out of the comfortable world of trash romance. The timer went off and she turned away from the window pouring herself a cup of the rich hazelnut liquid. Adding far too much sugar she stirred the coffee idly as she made her way through the quite halls back to her office. Closing the door behind her Faith settled at her desk, then picked up her phone punching in her v-mail code. As she sipped her, coffee watching the morning sunlight dissipate the fog she scribbled down each message. Suddenly she raised a brow as she heard a familiar voice. "Ms. Alexander?" She hung the phone up glancing at the gentleman standing in her office door. "Mr. Giles...what can I do for you?" She stood motioning to the chair in front of her desk. Rupert moved to chair and sat crossing his legs and smoothing his pants leg. "I need to know where my son is at Ms. Alexander." "He's on assignment in the States." She leaned against the desk. Looking up into her eyes Rupert swallowed hard, then cleared his throat. "I am quite aware that he is in the States...what I am unaware of is where in the States he is." "Finch's Cove...in Maine." Faith frowned at the expression in Rupert's eyes. "What's going on?" She demanded. Rupert's head dropped as he rubbed at the bridge of his nose. "Dear Lord..." his voice cracked, "...not there...not there..." he whispered. Now she knew why her gut had been twisting in a knot since that last call. "Rupert talk to me. Tell me what the hell is going on." She knelt in front of him her hands wrapping around his. Shaking his head Rupert Giles looked up with tear- filled eyes at the young woman before him. A soft breath escaped his lips as he licked them. "The past..." he whispered, "...my past choices have come back to haunt him, Faith. My foolish choices and he deserves far better than that." *** Angel opened the front door to find Francis Doyle standing on the porch one hand raised as if to knock again. He was soaked to the bone and his expression was less than happy. "Francis." "Don't Francis me, Liam me boyo!" Shaking the rain from his hair he pushed past Angel into the darkened hallway. "It's been a bit of a harsh day what with Mrs. Rathers deciding that it was time to pop out wee babe number five." Head hanging Angel sighed. "Sorry Doyle. It's an emergency though." Stripping off his coat Doyle tossed it over the banister. "Aye...it's always an emergency with you now isn't it." Doyle grinned at the contrite look on Angel's face. "Now wouldn't it be me luck to be the only fool who managed to figure out what you are." Eye's narrowing Angel lifted his head. "Teach you to be far snoopier than the others---now won't it?" Chuckling Doyle slapped Angel on the back. "Aye, that it will. Now what was so important you had to be dragging me sorry ass out in the worst storm to come this way in the past few years?" "He's back, Doyle." *** Darla stood in the garden the rain pounding around her, plastering her hair to her head, as she stared out across the angry ocean. She had to escape Drusilla's mad rantings if but for a few minutes. A shiver ran down her spine as her gaze moved to where the lighthouse stood in the distance shrouded in swirling mist, the waves crashing against the rocky out- cropping. She remembered everything as if it had happened yesterday, she thought, as her arms folded across her chest. Once upon a time she had been a powerful immortal creature. A being filled with lust---lust for blood and for the childe she had created. Now she was nothing more than a weak human. "Angelus..." she whispered her eyes drifting shut as the memories of another life filled her mind's eye. *** Romania 1898 Soft laughter drifted through the window above Darla's head as she leaned against the cottage wall her eyes flickering gold. She'd known from the beginning that Drusilla had royally fucked up, that William---the little worthless bastard, wasn't her childe. Growling low in her throat she listened to the two voices above as she seethed. "Quite the lovely lad ye are me sweet William." A soft snort of laughter followed Angelus' comment. "Don't be stupid, pet. What if Darla discovers us together like this...in her bloody bed?" "And what if she would, love? She knows you're me childe and I won't be givin' you up so easily." Darla swallowed a snarl and stormed out of the garden in a wild fury. Ten years of smelling that disgusting excuse of a vampire on her childe was enough. Angelus was hers. She had made him, molded him, and now it was time for her to take him back. The night closed in around her as she disappeared into the forest. She knew what she had to do and the answer lay here in the forest, high in the mountains. The gypsies. *** "This can't be..." Doyle mumbled as he stared down at the restless young man in Angel's bed. "And why can't it be Francis?" Angel questioned his voice rough with want---the want for this to be true. Doyle's gaze drifted from the bed to the portrait above the mantle, then back again. "You told me yourself that you watched him die, boyo." He whispered. "This can't be Spike, then---now can it?" Turning from the window Angel blinked back the tears that where threatening, then stormed across the room yanking back the comforter. His face contorted in a mixture of anger, desperation, and confusion. "Then what is that? Tell me I'm a fool all ye want Francis Allen Doyle, but can ye explain this?" His trembling hand pointed at the sleeping man's stomach. "Explain it!" With a faint sigh Doyle moved closer sitting down on the edge of the bed. "Now what do you want me to be telling you?" He reached out tracing what appeared to be a wine stain birthmark. "It's a birthmark, Liam, nothing else." "Bullshit! Ye'll not be telling me that is just a birthmark!" Angel's accent thickened as he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. "The boy knew me name!" Doyle raised a brow looking up at Angel. "Everyone in the village knows your name you great buffoon. Liam Conway---mystery man." Dropping his head Angel snorted. "Not that one ye annoying prick...the other..." His other brow rose then. "Your...vampire name? The first one?" "Aye...the one he knew me by before we were different. The one he called out on more nights than I can right recall." "Angelus." Doyle whispered in shock. *** Romania 1898 Furious Angelus stormed into Darla's rooms his face shifting, his eyes flickering gold in the candlelight. "What did ye do woman?!" His fists clenched at his sides as he fought to control the desire to rip her throat out. "Answer me now you right bloody harlot!" Shimmering ice blue eyes lifted to focus on Angelus in all his fury. "Took back what was mine dear boy." He was across the room before Darla could stand wrapping his hands around her throat, yanking her up, and slamming her into the wall. "What was yours? What was yours? You insane wench do ye have the faintest idea what ye've done to me childe?" Darla slapped his hands away with an annoyed laugh that drilled into his spine. "It would do you good to remember who I am." She hissed softly. "I am your sire. The one who gave you immortality and I am done allowing you the freedom to ignore that. Do you not remember the rules, Angelus?" Turning he slammed his fist into the wall, plaster drifting down to settle in his dark hair. "Aye! I remember quite well, but I'll not let ye harm me childe." He turned back his eyes filled with bloodlust and anger. "You will not allow me?!" Darla screeched lifting her hand to slap Angelus. Suddenly she found her hand halted by Angelus' deadly grip. "Aye..." he growled, "...now you'll be tellin' me what ye've done." Darla's face shifted, the ridges rippling beneath her soft silken curls. "It is done and there is no undoing it you foolish childe!" With a low growl Angelus twisted Darla around by her wrist, throwing her to the bed. "He's ill now... terrified and hidin' in the basement! What did ye do?! Don't make me ask again, woman!" He straddled her hips pinning her to the bed. "Grand mummy fooled the gypsies. Told them all kinds of naughty things so they would give dolly's golden boy a nasty dreadful gift." Angelus looked up into his other childe's dark eyes filled with a twisted glee. "Drusilla enough with yer crazy bits. Tell yer da' what Darla did to Will." Skipping to the bed Drusilla smiled wickedly, her eyes glittering as she whispered softly. "I heard the stars singing to me, daddy. Dolly and I followed grand mummy into the woods." "Drusilla you stupid little bitch!" Darla pushed Angelus off her body with a snarl. Dark eyes narrowed, Drusilla knelt next to Angelus in the floor. "Daddy...grand mummy is angry..." Wrapping his arm around Drusilla protectively Angelus growled low in his throat at Darla. "It's okay, love, tell da' what ye saw in the gypsy camp." With a soft whimper Drusilla snuggled into Angelus' throat, then whispered softly. "My little prince...he has a nasty soul now." *** Angel looked on as Doyle took William's tempera- ture. He could still hear Darla's soft, bitter laughter ringing in his ears, even after all these years. "He looks to be in shock, boyo. I've given him a sedative to calm him, but..." Doyle turned to Angel with a frown, "...I need you to be tellin' me why this birthmark is so bloody important." "Mark of Aurelius." Angel mumbled softly. Doyle sighed. "Your clan now---isn't it?" "Aye, me bloodline." "And exactly why would the mark of a vampire bloodline be on an obviously human man?" Doyle set about tucking his instruments back in his bag. "I don't know, Doyle. I've been asking myself that since he came looking for me." Moving to the bed he reached out smoothing William's damp curls from his face. "Came looking for you he did? Now why would he do such a fool thing?" Doyle moved to the table before the fireplace and poured himself a healthy dose of brandy. "He's a writer...from England. Some nonsense about writing a biography on Angel, the artist." Sitting down on the edge of the bed he traced his fingers gently along William's sharp cheekbones, down to his full soft lips. "I tried to push him away, but he was always stubborn." "Liam listen to yourself, lad. This man isn't Spike." Angel sighed, then whispered softly. "Do you believe a soul can be reincarnated?" Snorting Doyle tossed back the glass of brandy, then glanced up at the portrait above the fireplace. "Not if I was belivin' the faith I was raised in. Of course now I would have been saying the same of vampires before I met you, Liam. Who is to say?" He poured another glass and took a deep drink as he studied the portrait. "What if..." Angel swallowed hard, "...what if he was reborn and this is another test?" "Another test?" Doyle raised a brow as he sat down the glass. "A test from who?" "I don't know...the powers that be? What if that Slayer wasn't suppose to kill Spike that night?" His eyes filled with tears as he took a deep unneeded breath. "Speaking of that Slayer, boyo. Why didn't you kill her that night?" Angel glanced up at Doyle with a confused frown as his fingers curled around William's pale, limp hand. "If I'd been you I might have done just that." "I didn't kill her...because...because..." Angel's dark eyes widened in sudden realization. "She was pregnant." *** Sisters of Mercy Medical Center New York City 1976 The young woman screamed as another contraction rippled through her pelvis. Her breaths were coming in ragged pants as she pushed down, her hands cupping her swollen belly protectively. "Don't...oh, God...don't let my baby die!" "It's okay honey...everything is going to be okay." The nurse stroked back the young girl's tangled curls with a gentle hand. "Doctor's on his way. Nothing to fear...your baby will be okay." Even she didn't believe her words. This young girl was in some serious pain and she was losing a great deal of blood. As a matter of fact she doubted the girl would survive. Her vitals were off the charts and she was burning up with a fever. Another scream exploded from the girl as she pushed down with all her strength. Around them the delivery room staff worked feverishly to keep this nightmare under control. Doctor Randall entered the room a bit out of breath and began barking orders. "What do we have people?!" "Blood pressure, heart rate are off the charts. Fever of a hundred and three." The nurse replied. "Cooling blankets?" "On their way, sir." The girl let out another furious scream as she pushed down again. "Feel it...feel it...get it out of my baby!" Taking a cool cloth the nurse patted the girls sweat soaked brow down as she glanced back at the doctor with a worried expression. "The child is a breach...she's losing to much blood as well. It's as if..." "As if what?" Randall lifted a brow as he slipped into a pair of gloves. "As if she's trying to expel something other than her child from her body." *** Doyle had left promising Angel that he would look into birth records in New York. It had been the only way that Angel would calm and yet still he wasn't calm at the moment. He paced the floor of his bedroom, his fingers moving through his dark hair repeatedly sending it into a mess of wild spikes. Glancing at William sleeping fitfully in the bed he sighed then headed back to the fireplace. He poured a glass of brandy and glanced up at the portrait that hung above the mantle. "If somehow you've come back to me, Will, I wish you would give me a sign." He tipped the glass back swallowing the brandy, his eyes closing as he relished the burn of the liquor. "...angel?" Angel turned as he heard the soft inquiry behind him and he almost dropped the glass. Sitting up against the pillows William was looking at him with a confused expression, but at the same time somehow Angel knew this wasn't William Danridge. "Yes?" He sat the glass down his hands trembling. "Where are we, pet?" William's brow crinkled as if he were trying to remember something. "This isn't our bloody flat in Greenwich." His cobalt eyes shifted in his pale face as he looked around. "What happened now? How'd we get here, luv?" Opening his mouth Angel stood there with tears in his eyes gaping like an oversized goldfish as he tried to reconcile what he was thinking. William's brow rose in amusement, then that rich accented voice came again laced with sarcasm. "Hey now you great poof, don't be getting all teary eyed like some crazed bint." "Spike?" Angel croaked out through parched lips. Shaking his head William snorted softly. "Who the bloody hell else would it be? Now quit standing there like some damn village idiot and come here, luv." With a deep breath Angel sat the glass aside and wandered to the bed. His chest felt as if it were caving in as his gaze moved from where William's pale hand lay against the dark silk of the comforter to where his sharp eyes studied Angel with amusement. "Look now I don't bite, Angel." He chuckled as he patted the mattress. "Well not unless you really want me, too." Grasping William's face in his hands he stared at him for the span of a heartbeat, then---as if having made a decision---pulled him close claiming his soft lips in a desperate kiss. Angel channeled all the heartache and loneliness he had felt over the past thirty years into that one action as William's hands lifted to tangle in his mussed hair. Everything he saw, sensed, and even scented told him that this was his boy---his sweet William. "What's up now with all this?" William whispered against his lips. "You're acting as if you've not seen me in ages." Angel leaned his forehead against William's with a soft sigh. "Aye...seems like forever my blue-eyed boy." The tears he'd been fighting began to slowly trail down his face from beneath his lowered lashes. Running his hands up Angel's trembling spine, beneath the soft worn cotton of his tee-shirt, William's lips traced a line to his ear. His warm breath moved across his cool smooth skin as he whispered softly. "Didn't think I'd give you up that easy did you, pet?" With a soft moan Angel leaned forward pushing William into the mattress, his hips grinding into William's with a mad desire. "Thought I lost you me lovely boy...lost you forever..." "Never, Angel..." William gasp as he tugged at Angel's shirt, "...never leave you of my own free will." *** Sisters of Mercy Medical Center Maternity Ward New York City 1976 The young dark-haired man stood outside the nursery his sharp green eyes focused on the tiny squirming infant. The child had just been brought in and the nurse was pinning a diaper in place. Tiny chubby legs waved about in the air as the infant shoved one tiny fist in his mouth. "Sir?" Turning his gaze rested on the haggard doctor. "She's dead." His words were spoken with an even calm tone as he turned back to the window. "Yes...I'm sorry. We tried everything, but it was an incredibly difficult birth...she lost a great deal of blood..." He nodded his head absentmindedly as he studied the infant. Rosy cheeks, a full head of sunset gold curls, and his eyes---gazing back---were the most vivid blue he'd ever seen. It wasn't the color that bothered him though---it was the expression. So many emotions flickering in their depths, emotions a newborn infant should not have. Pryce had been a fool, he thought. Rule number one for any Watcher was to never get emotionally involved. He had though and not only had it cost the Council a Watcher and a Slayer, it had also mucked up almost a hundred years of coopera- tion with two of the remaining Aurelius line. One of the most ancient vampire bloodlines left roaming the earth. Now there was nothing to do, but pick up the shattered pieces and hope for the best. Angelus or Angel as he was now known had simply vanished after the death of his childe and lover, Spike. There was a new Slayer being called at this very moment in Paris, an old Slayer to bury, and this infant. A boy child produced through an inappropriate liaison between Pryce and his Slayer and furthermore the child was marked. "Bloody fool," he whispered as he lifted a hand to the glass still staring into those ancient cobalt eyes. The Council had chosen him to watch over this child and when he had called his recently wed wife, she had been tickled. Jenny couldn't bear children---they had found out just a month ago---and this gave her the opportunity to be a mother. With a put upon sigh Rupert Giles turned from the nursery window and calmly strolled down the hall into the snowy New York night. TBC... Once I had the rarest rose That ever deigned to bloom. Cruel winter chilled the bud And stole my flower too soon. Annie Lennox Love Song For A Vampire (from "Bram Stoker's Dracula" Soundtrack) http://www.geocities.com/rose_liz2001/Dark_Fantasies.html http://www.livejournal.com/~angelstart/ http://groups.yahoo.com/group/FAN-FICTION-UTOPIA/join