Title: Acrylic Dreams (7/?) 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 You can find previous chapters at the following link on my LJ: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=angelstart&keyword=Acrylic+Dreams+Series&filter=all *** Norfolk, England October 1982 Rupert rubbed the bridge of his nose as he tried to suppress the headache that he was on the way to getting. He'd suspected over the past six years that his adopted son was exactly what the Council had thought, the first male slayer, and an anomaly. Now though he knew better. William was not a slayer, but he was something far more. "How is it that he knows that name?" Glancing up Rupert met his wife's curious eyes. "I don't know, Jenny." Jenny walked around the desk leaning against the front as Rupert closed his study door, his heart heavy. "I imagine you do Rupert, but I will not allow you to tell the Council. He is our son Rupert no matter what else he may be of that I am certain." "I would never..." "Don't deny it Rupert. I am not a stupid woman, in the least. The Council does nothing without a purpose and we both knew William was a child of questionable parentage. Roger was a damn fool to become involved with his slayer, but I know now that William isn't what the Council might think he is." Slumping down in one of the chairs before his desk Rupert leaned forward, his face hidden in his palms as his wife knelt in front of him. He'd never been able to hide anything from Jenny, she could see into his soul so clearly. Perhaps he'd always known that this day would come. "What did the slayer do? What did she do before her death?" Her hand settled on Rupert's shoulder, fingers gently massaging the tense muscle. "The birthmark on William..." her breath was tense, "...I knew what it was just as..." Rupert lifted his head staring into his wife's sad tear- filled eyes. "What about the mark?" Shaking her head Jenny stood and walked to the fireplace. She lifted one hand picking up one of the numerous framed photos that ran the length of the mantle. "He was always a bright child..." "Jenny?" "It is the Mark of Aurelius." Rupert was on his feet and at his wife's side spinning her around with barely suppressed fury. "What do you know of the Aurelius?" Soft laughter escaped from between Jenny's lips as she met Rupert's burning gaze. "You are not the only one with secrets, Rupert." Her voice took on an edge of anger. "You always were to willing to accept certain things far to easily. Look at me...really look at me Rupert and tell me what you see." For the span of a few heartbeats Rupert Giles studied his wife's face with an intensity he usually reserved for ancient texts. Then a light seemed to appear in his eyes as his hand slid down her arm to push the sleeve of her sweater up, baring the inside of her wrist. Against the pale smooth skin was the tattoo, delicate and small. "You said you got this on a drunken dare your first year at Oxford." His chest tightened as he lifted her arm closer studying the delicate soft swirls of black ink that traced over the faint blue vein beneath the skin. "You didn't---did you?" "No." Jenny's voice was a faint whisper. "I received the mark when I began my training." "Your training..." Rupert's voice cracked. "I knew that one day I would have to tell you this Rupert. I do love you deeply, but I could not reveal this to you...nor to anyone. My true name is Janna." His gaze lifted from her wrist to meet her dark eyes with a sudden understanding. "I am Janna of the Kalderash. We who cursed William the Bloody beneath the bright light of the Mother and we who cursed Angelus as he begged us, too." Rupert dropped her wrist as if her skin burnt his hand, shaking his head in denial. "William's mother...the slayer...she murdered William despite the magic of my clan. He and Angelus were never to be touched, but her madness ripped their souls apart---didn't it?" "Dear God..." Rupert gasp, "...our son...the slayer's child..." Jenny nodded as she lifted her hand, cupping Rupert's jaw. "Her child was the nearest vessel." *** He was lost. A quivering mass of confusion and pain cradled in Angel's arms. He couldn't remember how he had come to be there, held gently in those strong arms, but it felt right. "Hush, now me beautiful boy." Angel whispered softly as he carried the weeping young man up the darkened stairwell back to his bedroom. "I'll not be letting ye suffer alone. I'm here...now...never be leavin' again me sweet poet." William buried his face into the vee of Angel's neck, his hot tears painting the cool flesh with trails of salty pain and grief. His breath came in soft hiccups as Angel's fingers caressed through his tangled hair and down his quivering back. For some reason he felt safe in this man's, no vampire's, arms. It was as if he had been here before and it was home. Kicking open the door, Angel crossed the fire lit room and lay William on the bed. Carefully he removed William's shoes, socks, and then the tee shirt William had borrowed from him. Pulling the comforter around William's shivering form, he paused to study the younger man's face with sad eyes. Dark smudges hollowed out the wide cobalt eyes that looked back at him with a desperate need. The need to understand what was happening to him. "Don't leave..." William whispered softly. Angel smiled down at William, then settled on the edge of the mattress. "Not leavin'...told ye that me boy." A soft hiccup escaped William as Angel stood, then crawled onto the bed next to him, beneath the comfort- er, and pulled him close. "I couldna' if I tried. They brought ye back to me." Angel's lips caressed William's tear stained cheek. "Not Spike..." William sighed softly. "He's gone. I'm William James Danridge...I'm a writer..." "And me Will was a writer as well...a poet." Angel wrapped his arms tighter around the boy. "This canna' be a coincidence. Too much is right. Yer face, yer eyes, ye have ta' be him." "No..." William whimpered. "Yes." Angel's voice was firm, yet soft. "Tell me of yer dreams, William." He placed a gentle kiss on William's brow as he stroked his fingers along his cheek. "Tell me and let me know the truth." Looking up with glimmering wet eyes, William took a breath and began to speak. *** Romania 1898 Angelus struggled through the forest stopping every few paces to heave until his throat ached. Faces so many faces, all of them crying out in pain. Over a hundred years of murders, rapes, and tortures beyond human comprehension. All of those deeds done with his demonic hands, haunting his soul. Falling to his knees, he moaned in anguish, his fingers clawing at the earth as if to dig a hole in which he could bury his sins. There was no hole deep enough though to hide away these nightmares. "Daddy?" Angelus looked up with swollen tear-filled eyes at his second childe, Drusilla. "Dru? Love...I'm not feelin' well..." Cocking her head Drusilla studied Angelus with dark, vacant eyes, then sniffed the night wind. "Nasty gypsies hurt daddy." Her words were filled with a dark sadness. Gasping Angelus tried to pull himself to his feet only to be brought down by a swing of Drusilla's arm. He spit blood and tried to stand again. "Drusilla, love, don't be afraid." "Not afraid. Know what you did to grand-mummy..." she hissed softly. "Let the little prince with the nasty soul out of the dark ground. Went in search, but grand- mummy didn't like it." She smiled her eyes swallowing up all the light. "Punished grand-mummy...ashes to ashes...dust to dust. Master is coming...run daddy ...run..." Drusilla wandered away her laughter like sharp blades digging beneath Angelus' skin. He had to find the strength to get to William, he thought. Drusilla may be daft, but she was no fool. If the girl said the Master was coming, then he was coming and there'd be hell to pay. *** "I saw you..." William's voice was weak, almost childish in his confusion. "Where?" Angel whispered. Frowning William burrowed deeper into the cool comfort of Angel's body. "Cottage...it was dark. And it hurt." He glanced up at Angel, tears streaking his face with shimmering trails of moisture. "You...but not you. Had long hair...down to your shoulders." A shiver rippled through William's body as his confused gaze dropped down to the comforter. His head was so full of images, disjointed and painful, that seem- ed to back up what Angel claimed. But it wasn't Angel, not completely. A part of him seemed to know that what Angel suggested was real. All his life he had suffered from the dreams and the blackouts, until that final blackout in an alley in London with his friends. "I was him." Angel lifted William's chin with his fingertips. "Yes." "Then how did he...I...?" His gaze locked with Angel's then traveled down to settle on the silver chain that encircled his neck. "This..." he whispered, one finger tracing the chain, "...what is it? Thought silver was..." "No. Just poisonous to werewolves." William chuckled softly. "Bleedin' werewolves are real then, pet?" "Aye. Knew a real nice one in New York...name was Oz. He was a guitarist in a punk band..." "Daniel." William looked up at Angel. "His name was Daniel Osbourne...used to drink with the little shite in the Village." "How...?" William smiled weakly. "You said it yourself, luv. I was there...I'm..." "Spike." Angel finished the sentence. Suddenly William's eyes rolled back in his head and he began to convulse. *** Somewhere over the Atlantic Watcher's Council Private Jet Travers sat, his gaze staring out the small window to the thick landscape of clouds the passed. He was furious, but it only showed in his eyes as he sipped his glass of scotch. The impertinence of Rupert Giles was what infuriated him more than anything did. The Council had entrusted him with the care of the slayer's child almost thirty years ago, but now he would presume to lock them out when it was time for them to take over. No one had seen the truth of Rupert's betrayal with the exception of him. The foolish man had come to care far too much for the boy and now that was a problem most of the Council were too weak to deal with. "Sir?" Glancing up Travers met his PA's gaze. "Yes, Paul?" "The jet will be landing shortly. I've arranged for a team to meet us at the airport. Do you have any specific requests for the team?" Travers tapped the edge of his glass thoughtfully. "Yes I do." He smiled though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Make sure they have tranquilizers for the vampire." "Don't you mean vampires?" Paul raised a brow. "Not at all Paul. The only vampire we need worry about is Angel...his childe...let us just say she is under our protection and control." "Very good, sir." *** Rupert drove silently through the pouring rain only casting a furtive glance occasionally at young man sitting beside him. They'd been driving for close to an hour and in that time Wesley hadn't spoken a single word. He sat silently slumped in the passenger seat his gaze focused on the storm drenched landscape beyond the window, lost in his own thoughts. Frankly Rupert couldn't blame Wesley for his reaction to the bomb that he himself had dropped in the young man's. Just twenty-four hours earlier Wesley Wyndam- Pryce had been a Watcher in the small southern California town of Sunnydale, a husband, and a soon to be father. He'd also been an only child with a rich history that included a hero father that had died protecting his own slayer. Now he was the son of a lying, cheating man who had disgraced his position in the Council by fathering a child with his charge. Wasn't life just friggin' grand, Rupert thought with bitter disgust. "Did Jenny know?" Glancing across the car to Wesley's pale visage Rupert sighed. "Yes...but it's complicated." A soft snort escaped Wesley. "Complicated? Well that is quite rich. As if things were not already complicated in my life." "This is not just about you, Wesley." Rupert gritted his teeth. "This is about my son and what those bastard's want to do with him." Turning from the window Wesley studied Rupert's profile with haunted eyes. "The Council? What do they want with my bro...William?" "They think he is something he's not. They've taken enough from me already and damn them to everlasting hell if they rip William from me as well." The bitterness in Rupert's voice caused Wesley to sit up, his face paling. "Jenny...they murdered Jenny." "Yes." Came Rupert's whispered answer, tears glittering in his eyes. *** Norfolk, England April 7, 1992 William walked alongside his mother, his head hanging down gaze focused on the dirt road as his sneakers sent little rocks rolling. He wasn't sure why his mother had insisted they go for this walk, but he was quite sure that it was about the spells. He'd had another one in his physical education class during swimming and he'd almost drowned. The school rather than risk a lawsuit had sent him home telling both his parents that perhaps it would be best if he were educated at home until the illness he suffered was diagnosed. "Sweetheart?" He glanced up with wide cobalt eyes from behind his glasses and shook a lose curl of hair from his face. "yes, mum?" "I believe that we have something to discuss." A faint blush rose in William's cheeks at the earnest expression in his mother's warm eyes. "It's not my fault, mum. I can't be held responsi..." Jenny wrapped an arm around his shoulders and drew him into a warm embrace. "No it's not your fault. There are things that you need to be told, things that we've kept from you." She paused her gaze drifting out over the softly rolling hills. "We love you William...you do know that?" He couldn't help the look of shock that crossed his young face. "Of course I do, mum!" He drew back chewing on his lower lip nervously. "You and father have always been the best parents a boy could wish for in this world. I think I was bleedin' lucky to have you take me in." A soft clucking escaped Jenny as she turned to her son with a smile. "You mustn't speak like a dirty faced guttersnipe, William. You know how your father and I feel about that type of language." "Yes, mum." His head dropped in embarrassment. "It's okay, luv." As he lifted his gaze back to his mother's amused face he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. In that moment time seemed to slow to a stand still. A dark sedan. Tinted windows. The cloud of dust as it seemed to appear from nowhere. Those words were the last clear words that his mother spoke to him until the day she died almost three weeks later. William opened his mouth screaming at his mother as he started to move forward. To his utter horror Jenny pushed him backwards as she saw the car barreling towards them. As he hit the ditch on his back everything began to speed up and sharpen. It was like watching the scene unfold through a magnifying glass---crystalline clear. His mother's scream. Flesh against metal. The sickening crunch of bones. By the time William managed to crawl from the ditch, clutching his sprained wrist the sedan was gone. The only sign it had existed was the cloud of dust in the air settling around the crumpled body in the road. Whimpering in despair William crawled to his mother's side, his hands busily stroking the crushed and bloodied face. One leg was twisted at an unnatural angle as was one arm, and he fancied that he saw what could only be pure white bone peering from ripped flesh. "Mum...please God...mum..." he whimpered his vision clouding with tears. "Talk to me mum...please mum..." Lifting his hand he finally saw the blood, vivid against his pale fingers and he began to wail incoherently. That was how the farmer had found him. Kneeling in the center of the road, his hands stained scarlet from Jenny's blood, and wailing as he held her in his arms. She wasn't dead, but perhaps it would have been better had she been. For she suffered a great deal over the next few weeks and William would blame himself for years to come. *** Angel held William tightly to his chest as the young man wailed and thrashed, his nose bleeding as the memories of another life tore into him. Fragments of words slipped through the animalistic cries and as those word came together Angel felt the anger rise. Anger and tears that were so bitter they were poison to his soul. He'd lost his childe, his lover, and his best friend, but despite that he'd only been able to survive with one thought---heaven. He'd always hoped even believed that Spike had found heaven and something akin to rest on the other side of death. That hadn't been the case though. He'd died only to be forced back into this world to suffer the torments of his previous life. Memories of a life that Angel had forced upon him in a dark alley. Forced was what he'd done, too. No matter how he painted it William had never really wanted what he'd become. He'd been a gentle man, a poet, and a man who was far more human than the world deserved. Even after Angelus had finished what Drusilla started William had never been quite like a typical vampire. He'd relished those things that a human left behind when they were embraced. "Hush...hush little one..." Angel rocked back and forth, blood tinged tears streaking his pale smooth face. "It will be better I promise ye...I promise..." *** Darla knocked at the door, then quietly pushed open the door into the dim candlelit room. To her utter surprise Drusilla was standing quietly at the window overlook- ing the cove, one of her china dolls clutched in her arms. The silence was eerie. "Drusilla?" There was a faint sigh of unneeded breath from the still figure at the window. "Drusilla?" Darla questioned again as she crept closer. "Do you hear it grand-mummy?" Darla's forehead creased with a deep frown. "What?" "The spirits of the air are singing." Drusilla began to sway like a cobra ready to strike. "They sing and whisper a little song...whisper all their secrets in Drusilla's ear...one plus one is two..." she began singing softly. "What does that...?" "Shhh...two little mice scurrying in the bone house. One meets the other and they scare one another. One is old the other new...together they equal one not two." Eyes widening Darla smiled. "My prince is coming grand-mummy..." Drusilla whispered softly, "...he's coming...he's coming..." *** Beyond the cottage a streak of lightening hit the lighthouse sending the roof up in a ball of fire that was so bright it's light pierced the heavily draped windows of the bedroom. Angel glanced up at the resounding boom of the thunder that shook the walls like an unearthly voice, a shudder traveling through him as he held William tighter. It was as if that one bolt of lightening had silenced the earth herself. That was when he noticed that the convulsions had ceased to rip through the slender body in his arms and now William lay still as the dead. Swallowing back the taste of none existent bile Angel's gaze lowered to the angelic face of the young man in his arms. That one glimpse brought back memories of a filthy, stench riddled alley. "Will..." he whispered the younger man's name as he lifted a hand to one pale cheek. "William can ye hear me?" Suddenly the young man took a ragged breath, his eyes popping open. Angel frowned at what he saw in their cobalt depths, something that made him shudder with a mixture of fear and desire. A tiny smirk curled those perfect full lips as the boy lifted one hand to caress Angel's trembling jaw. "Seems Willie decided to let me bleedin' arse out to play finally. Took him soddin' long enough." "Spike?" Angel croaked out. "Yeah, luv. It's me, but I don't know for how long. So how's about you give us a kiss and get on with it mate?" "With what?" A tremor traveled through Angel as he sat mesmerized by those sparkling eyes. "Let's start off where we left off, luv." The younger man pushed himself up on his elbows claiming Angel's mouth with a passionate kiss. Pulling back he smiled at Angel's shocked expression. "Do it." Angel licked his lips nervously. "What?" "Make me what I was, luv. Make me immortal again so we can be together." 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