Yes...I know...I know. RL hasn't exactly cooperated and my damn muse the little bitch ran off to Aruba or some other exotic locale just to piss me off. So here's hoping this chapter was well worth the wait. Hugs, Fox *** Title: Acrylic Dreams (9/?) 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 *** "I don't like this." Harris brought the Blazer to screeching halt, mud splattering the windows only to be washed away almost immediately in the pounding rain. Next to him in the passenger seat Doyle lit another cigarette and wished with all his heart that he had a bottle of Bush Mills to ease the fear that was quickly rising in his gut. He couldn't help to agree with Harris' sentiment. Life was complicated enough knowing that monsters really existed, but now the monsters were coming to town, his town, and he didn't like it at all. "Have to agree with ya there, boyo." "Then why in the hell are we here?" Harris snapped as he turned off the engine. Behind them Willow's soft voice rose. "Because sometimes the monsters aren't always fangy and all scaly." The two men turned studying the two women behind them with curious eyes. Tara was as close to Willow as she could get without actually sitting in her lap, her eyes wide with a mix of fear and concern. "Cou...council..." she stuttered softly. "Council?" Harris pushed a shaking hand through his still damp hair. "What the hell is the Council?" "William's father was a part of the Council as his family has been for centuries. They were the ones who trained the slayers...the ones who created them. At one time they could be trusted, but now..." Willow just let the insinuation hang in the chill air of the Blazer. Doyle shook his head furiously as he inhaled, the glowing tip of his cigarette flickering gold across his face. "Angel told me he knew there were bad ones there. Said that this Rupert had been his contact there before his lover was murdered." "Spike." Nodding Willow turned to stare out the rain streaked window. "Rupert adopted the baby that the slayer gave birth, too. He always knew there was something different...special...about the boy. His wife Jenny knew better than he did though. That's why the Council had her killed." "Oh...hell...fucking...no!" Harris snapped pushing open the driver side door and slid out into the storm, slamming the door behind him. Grabbing the door handle Doyle started after Harris, but was stopped by the gentle grip of slender fingers on his shoulder. Turning he looked into Tara's wide eyes with a questioning glance. "What is it lass? What is it that..." his voice trailed off as he looked from one to the other. "Sweet Mother of Jesus...Angel was right. This writer, your friend William, he's the slayer's kid, but he's more now isn't he?" Doyle's face went pale as he crushed out the butt in the ashtray. Willow nodded. "Yes, he is...he's Spike reborn." "This is a bit on the crazy side---now isn't it?" Hands shaking Doyle shook out another cigarette, lighting it up. "Gypsy magic." Willow whispered. "They were bound to one another...vampires both cursed with souls. One against his will, the other by choice. They served the Council for almost a hundred years until a rouge slayer broke that binding by killing Spike. It shouldn't have happened, but it did and she cursed her unborn child by doing it." "Cursed?" Doyle's dark brow rose as he exhaled a cloud of misty blue smoke. "And how did she do that, lass?" "Like I said the binding magic should have never been broken. When she killed Angel's lover the PTB were furious." Doyle sighed as he took another drag. "PTB? Do I need to even be asking now?" "The Powers that Be." Tara finally spoke. "They are the ones that control the fates of all beings. They are the light side of creation...what most of us consider..." "God." Doyle whispered. *** The remainder of the drive had been silent both Rupert and Wesley lost in their own thoughts. Had Wesley known the thoughts that bounced around inside Rupert's skull he might have taken his chances with the rain slicked highway and leapt from the car, but he had no idea they were close to his own. William was his best friend and now he knew that not only that, but he was his brother as well. He'd always felt close to William yet he'd never imagined that this was the reason. He silently cursed his dead father, the father he'd never known, and he even cursed the man next to him. Almost thirty years Rupert Giles had kept this secret and Wesley was furious for never knowing that he had a brother. Especially now that his mother had passed, and he was married and expecting his first child. To him family was important, it always had been. Turning his gaze from the window he studied Rupert's tense profile letting out a soft sigh. He couldn't stay angry with man that he'd considered a stand in father for all these years, no matter how hard he tried. Rupert had paid a high price to keep this secret---far too high. As his gaze shifted back to the window he caught a glimpse of the exit sigh in the headlights. Exit Finch's Cove 2 Miles He felt a tightness in his chest as Rupert pushed the car faster down the glistening highway. Something deep inside him told him that nothing would ever be the same again. That once he left Finch's Cove, if he left at all, that his life would be changed irrevocably. *** Despite the raging fury of the storm the heli-carrier moved quickly through its center carrying it's precious load towards Finch's Cove. Quentin Travers sat in the back listening as his PA give the soldiers the break- down of what awaited them in the small town. Smiling he thought of how easily the American's had agreed to help. The Council had known of the Initiative since their formation shortly before the Great War. There had been those within the Council that had been horrified to discover that the American's had created such an organization, but there were those who had said to join them in an alliance would draw them into the twentieth century. Quentin Travers had been one of those at the time that had agreed that an alliance was for the best. It had been in the midst of the Cold War, the tumultuous sixties and he had been a young Watcher in training who had seen far too much of the secret world that mankind mainly ignored. Now he was one of the old guard, one of those in power, and those who had fought the alliance were either dead or retired from service. A monster was a monster and the Initiative had been correct in their ideas for what to do. The monsters should be tamed, broken, and their power should be harnessed to use, not studied and recorded in dusty tomes. The slayers were weapons that had been created to do just that. A grim frown creased Travers' forehead as he thought of William Danridge, child of a slayer, the first of his kind. Despite Rupert's denials Travers was posi- tive that there was power in the boy. A power that could be harnessed and used by the Council in the war against the monsters and he'd be damned if he would let Rupert get in the way of his plans. "Sir?" He glanced up at his PA, Paul. "Yes, son?" "The others they wish to know what we are to do with Angel. Is he to be...terminated, sir?" Travers chuckled. "Oh, dear god no. I have a thought that if William is to cooperate that we must keep that abomination alive." "Permission to speak freely, sir." "Granted." Paul's dark eyes narrowed, his brow furrowing as he gathered his thoughts. "He is an X-factor, sir. We can not be sure we can control him." Nodding Travers spoke. "You have a valid point, Paul. After all Angelus, as he was once known, is quite powerful and has a deceiving intelligence. He is most definitely an X-factor, but we have a secret weapon." "May I ask what, sir." Soft laughter erupted from the older man, a laughter edged with danger. "One word Paul...Darla." "Darla?" Paul frowned. "I had thought Darla dead at Angelus' own hand." Fingers steepled beneath his chin, Travers nodded as he leaned back in his seat. "Very true, Paul. Angelus did murder his sire in Romania over a century ago. Of course we are the Council and we have connections." "Connections, sir?" "That which once existed can often be brought back if the power is great enough. Let me just say that a certain demon owed the Council a favor." "Demon?" "Yes, Paul. As you are aware the new regime is of the mind that the monsters should be utilized to destroy their own kind. Vocah, a warrior of the underworld, had a small problem that we helped him with. In exchange he raised a weapon for us---Angelus' long dead sire." *** Doyle had slipped from the Blazer, the two witches close on his heels, heading to where Harris paced back and forth in the muddy, overgrown drive. As they got closer they could hear Harris mumbling beneath his breath. "...vampires...jeez Louise...friggin' vampires..." Reaching out Willow grabbed Harris' by the shoulder and he jumped, a look of confusion crossing his face for one moment. Taking a deep breath he stared into Willow's eyes shaking his head. "This is crazy." "Yeah, seeing that." She smiled softly her hand drifting down to cup his hand. "I remember when I found out. It was weird...like the world had flipped upside down. All twisted up pretzel-style." She turned his hand in hers, then dropped something cool and metallic in his damp palm. "What?" Harris frowned. "Faith...hope you got it. Cause thinking that faith is the best weapon you have." "Hey, sheriff here...big gun...all macho and shit." He lifted his hand staring at the silver crucifix. "Bullets are good." Doyle chuckled. "Maybe for the human problems, but where we're going, boyo..." his gaze drifted to the shadow of the Angel's cottage looming ahead in the flashes of lightening, "...you're gonna be needin' the faith more." *** Drusilla sat on the bed, her legs crossed like a small child, as she looked over the collection spread out on the mattress. "Magic is strong...like tiny needles pricking at the skin of the world." Her dark gaze lifted to where Darla stood staring out at the storm. "Tiny sharp daggers that..." "Pierce the heart." Darla's hand drifted up to settle above her breast, the feel of her human heart, pounding beneath flesh and bone. "Did you know, Drusilla?" Blinking Drusilla stood and moved to where Darla stood, molding herself to Darla's back, her chin resting on Darla's trembling shoulder. "Daddy betrayed you for the little prince..." she whispered softly in a sing-song tone, "...pierced your heart, turned you to star dust. Master was angry tried to kill Daddy." *** Madrid, Spain 1900 Two years of running and Angelus knew it wasn't enough---it never would be. "What's wrong, pet?" He glanced up from the book he'd been reading to meet William's worried expression as he sat at the little writing desk by the window. Angelus sighed softly and set the book aside and stood striding across the bed- room to kneel at William's feet. Taking his childe's hands in his he squeezed gently. "Sometimes I forget just how young ye still are, love. Can ye not feel it? The power?" William's eyes drifted shut as he turned his face to the window, moonlight dappling his loose curls with silvered highlights. "He'll never let us be---will he?" His voice was soft and filled with pain. "You should have never killed his Darla. I wasn't worth it...this running forever." A single tear trailed down William's face as he turned back to Angelus. "You should have let me die in that alley in London, then you'd still be happy." Growling Angelus pulled William into his arms. "I am happy me sweet poet. Ye are me life...the only thing that's ever mattered. I got a soul for ye darling Will. Even in me human life I never knew this kind of happiness." He showered soft kisses across William's damp face. "Darla never understood what a special one you were. Always a jealous, spiteful, strumpet she was." "He's coming...he'll kill you, luv. I can't imagine staying in this world without you..." Angelus pulled William closer until the boy was in his lap, stroking his soft curls, and purring in his throat. "Ye won't have to me sweet boy. If I have to I'd kill a thousand Masters to stay with ye." Laughing sadly William looked up into Angelus' dark eyes. "But it's only one you have to be worried about--- now isn't it, pet?" *** Angel extricated himself from the smooth warm limbs of his sleeping lover with a soft sigh. He could still taste the boy's blood on his tongue, sweet and filled with a need that spoke volumes, and there was something more. There was a power in it, a magic that invigorated Angel's preternatural body. Lifting one hand he traced his fingertips across William's sharp cheekbone with a gentle touch. Beneath his caress William twitched, then sighed a tiny smile curling his lips. "...sire..." he whispered in his sleep. Smiling Angel stood and headed for the bathroom to take a quick shower. He was sure that Doyle would be back and it wouldn't do to have him discover the both of them tangled in bed together. It would be bad enough explaining his actions face to face much less in bed naked with his lover. *** Soaked to the bone Doyle and his companions mounted the porch. Lifting a fist Doyle knocked on the door waiting for Angel to answer. "Don't think he's home. I mean all with the dark, no lights thing." Harris paced the porch, his gaze darting back and forth. Doyle snorted as he banged louder. "Vampire you doofus. He's not much with the light...creature of the night and all." "Ha-fucking-ha, Irish. Just what I need a reminder that my world just did a one-eighty. So if he's here then why ain't he answering?" Frowning Doyle fished his key ring out of his pocket and flipped keys until he located the spare key Angel had given him. "Probably upstairs in his studio." "Studio?" Harris pushed his soaked hair from his eyes. "Aye, he's an artist, and quite the talented one. Was in the public eye during the fifties until..." Doyle trailed off as the lock clicked, the door popping open. "Until what?" Harris grabbed Doyle's shoulder, pulling him around to face him. "Until the Master tracked them down." Both men turned at Willow's soft reply. She stood staring out at the storm drenched night, her arms crossed over her breasts, as Tara wrapped one arm around her trembling waist. "Who the hell is the Master?!" Harris growled. "Cause not thinkin' I'm gonna like the answer." Tara turned to face the two men, her eyes almost black in the darkness. "He was the leader of the Aurelius... Angel and Spike's bloodline. It's a long story and we haven't got the time to get into it. All you need to know is that Angel killed him, when he came after them. He vowed to take from Angel what was most precious to him." Harris shook his head. "Great. So big deal tall, dark, and gruesome took out the leader of his clan over what?" "It was a big deal...as a matter of fact a huge deal. I'm telling you this so you will understand just how power- ful Angel is. The Master was almost two thousand years old and Angel wasn't even two hundred. For a vampire he was barely past the fledgling stage. Angel is not a vampire to trifle with and the damn Council should know that better than anyone, but they're obsessed with William, so obsessed they haven't a clue what they're about to do." Willow sighed turning around and pushing past Harris. "He killed a master over his childe, over Spike." Without another word she stepped through the door and into the darkness. *** Drusilla had been lost in her conversations with the stars for sometime now and Darla, frankly didn't have the patience for it. As a matter of fact she never had, even when she had walked the earth as one of the Aurelius. Glancing over her shoulder at Drusilla she smiled, her blue eyes darkening with the evil that remained a part of her despite the fact she was human. It was that evil that the Master had sensed in her all those years ago as she lay dying from syphilis. She'd never been anything but a conniving whore who had murdered her way to a life of luxury in the Virginia Colony. She'd came close to being burnt at the stake for witchcraft, but the town elders upon discovering she was dying from the unspeakable disease chose not to bring her to trial. In their eyes God had chose to punish the whore for her evil in his own way---a slow, painful death. They hadn't counted on the Master giving her his eternal kiss. Shortly after her death a plague had swept through the colony, a plague that wiped out all the children under ten years of age. Darla, as she had been renamed by the Master, had ultimately gotten her own revenge. Slipping from Drusilla's room she crept down the stairs, careful not to wake the sleeping customers in her little cover job. The Council had been quite through in their plan, placing her here almost five years ago as a young widow trying to reclaim her life after the death of her beloved husband and son. She had been welcom- ed with open arms into the small village and when she had announced her plans to open a bed and breakfast she had been backed by the village inhabitants. Little did the fools know that once she got what she wanted they would become fodder for the return of her mate. Her dear boy. Angelus. Reaching her office downstairs she closed the door and retrieved the special cell phone from the safe. With a faint sigh she poured herself a glass of wine and settled into the chair in front of the fireplace, hitting speed dial. After two rings a voice answered, a voice filled with impatience and annoyance. "What is it, Darla?" A soft purr rumbled in Darla's throat as she answered the demanding question. "Nice to speak with you as well Quentin. Yes, as a matter of fact I have had a rough day." "Enough with the sarcasm. I told you to only use this number in case of an emergency." Rolling her eyes Darla took a sip of her wine. "It is an emergency you damn fool. We have a problem. Where are you?" "About thirty miles due south of Finch's Cove. The storm is making progress difficult. Now exactly what problem is it you believe we have?" "You're too late...Angel has tasted him." *** "Sweet Goddess..." Willow whispered, tears welling in her eyes. The others stumbled into the room behind Willow unsure what to make of those three simple words that she'd spoke. Nor could they quite figure out the tears that glistened in her eyes until they saw him. A huge four-poster bed took up the better portion of the large room they had entered and it was there that they saw the source of her grief and fear. Sprawled on the richly colored bedding was a young man and despite the comforter giving him some modicum of decency it was obvious he was naked. His pale limbs, well muscled yet slender seemed to glow in the dim firelight from the dying fire. One arm was flung out, his hand dangling over the mattress, the other was curled above his head, his face turned towards them. The flickering light only emphasized the beauty of his face with its sharp, high cheekbones, and his soft, sensual lips. His lashes lay dark, and wispy like silken strands of a spider's web against his pale face. "Will..." Willow whispered softly as she stepped carefully to the bed, "...we're too late...sweet mother we're too late." Doyle joined her by the bed his sharp blue eyes seeing what the others could not---a wound at his throat. The wound consisted of two deep punctures above his carotid artery, the flesh slightly puffy, and stained with dark crimson---a stain of blood. He sucked on air for a moment, thinking that this couldn't be right. Angel or Liam as he'd known him for ten long years couldn't have done this---he wouldn't have. "Lass you're wrong...Liam..." he started his voice unsteady. "He's a friggin' vampire!" Harris stepped around them, his eyes taking on the scene like the cop he was. "These wounds are exactly like the ones that were found on the murder victims in town." "I don't care! Liam hasn't drank human blood since he was transformed by the gypsies!" Doyle growled, his fingers running through his wet hair. "I trust him. Hell I trusted him with me own sister!" Harris' dark eyes narrowed. "Then you're a damn fool, Irish!" The two continued to bicker as Willow drifted closer to the bed, settling on the edge of the mattress, her trembl- ing hand lifting to caress William's pale cheek. Tara moved to her lover's side, her hand stroking through her scarlet hair in a soothing rhythm. "I...I loved him. He was like a big brother..." Willow's voice cracked, giving it the quality of a small child. "He...he...he's not dead." Stuttering Tara stepped closer kneeling next to the bed. A tiny smile curled her mouth as she touched William's chest above his heart. Willow's eyes grew wide with a mixture of relief and confusion. "But the marks..." Suddenly William stirred with a soft moan, his eyes fluttering open to reveal sleep clouded sapphire. He licked his lips and blinked looking up at Willow and yawned softly. "Hey, Red..." "Will?" She whispered softly unable to compute for a moment that her friend was alive. A few more blinks and he stretched, his lean muscles rippling beneath pale skin. Without any warning his eyes went wide and he was sitting up scrambling for the covers, pulling them up to his chin. "What the bloody hell?!" Willow surged forward wrapping her shaking arms around William's neck. "You're alive! He didn't take you!" Grasping her shoulders William pushed her back looking into her tear-filled eyes with concern. "What are you doing here, Red? Who in the bloody hell are all these people?" He waved his arm at the other three who stood silently in shock. "They came to save you from the evil that lurks in every corner. Now didn't you, love?" The question was directed at Willow who still clung to William, but five pairs of eyes turned to focus on the shadowy figure leaning in what was apparently the bathroom door. Mist from the shower drifted around the figure, the bathroom light surrounding it like a golden halo. "Angelus." Willow hissed, her eyes narrowing. Stepping forward into the firelight he smiled a wicked, teasing smile. His dark gaze drifted from face to face finally settling on William's only to soften with what could only be love. "Once upon a time I was. Now it's just..." "Angel." William's cheeks glowed with the same emotion that had warmed Angel's eyes. He started to move across the bed, but was drawn back by Willow's firm grip. Turning he frowned at his friend hissing softly. "What?" "He's a vampire, Will." "I know that you silly bint." William rolled his eyes at Willow with a smile. "How do you suppose I got these?" His hand lifted, fingers caressing the wound in his throat that had, even now in the few minutes that had passed, faded a bit. "Red it's okay---I swear, luv. I wanted him, too." He smiled his eyes twinkling with a spark Willow hadn't seen in a very long time. She let out a sound caught somewhere between a hiccup and a sob, then threw herself into William's embrace. A few minutes passed, the only sound in the room, Willow's soft crying and William's attempts to ease her fear. His hand ran through her hair and down her spine over and over as he whispered nonsense sounds. Finally she pulled back her face glistening with the shimmer of tears. "I thought I'd lost you..." Shaking his head. "You didn't, pet. I'd never leave my friends behind." He cupped her cheek swiping at the tears with his thumb. "But I had to find myself." "Find yourself?" Doyle finally spoke up, his brow wrinkled in doubt. "Exactly what does that mean?" Angel sat down on the rumpled sheets next to William, their fingers curling around one another though their eyes never met. "I told you, Doyle...I told you who he was and you didn't believe." "Spike." Doyle's gaze shifted from where the two lover's sat to where the portrait hung above the fire- place. "It's really him then?" "Yep, in all me Technicolor beauty you Irish twit." *** Quentin Travers leaned back in his seat, flipping the cell in his palm shut. He heaved a sigh of relief rather than of worry as Darla had thought he would. It was unexpected yes, but it was an extra benefit, that the vampire had tasted the boy. That meant they had broken the dams that had been forged by the Powers that Be and now the past had been revealed. Not only that, but the connection that Angel and William shared was being reformed in place of the dams. He refused to use the word 'love' for they had been nothing, but mongrel demons, theirs souls a leash that the Council had used to their advantage. Demons could not love. They killed, maimed, raped and pillaged, but love was beyond them. They were monsters and to see it any different was a fool's vision. That was what Rupert Giles had never understood. "Sir?" He glanced up at Paul with a serious expression. "Yes?" "We have an ETA on our arrival, sir. We'll be putting down on Widow's Walk outside Finch's Cove in fifteen minutes." "Excellent." "Any last minute instructions for the men, sir?" "Yes. Have Blue Team go to Wayside Inn. They are to contact the owner, a Darla Mackenzie and her mother Drusilla." He smiled smugly. "The code word is Aurelius." Paul nodded sharply. "Is there anything else, sir?" Reaching for his briefcase he removed two large manila envelopes. "One is to go to the team leader, the other to Ms. Mackenzie. That is all Paul." "Yes, sir." He accepted the envelopes then disappeared into the cargo bay. Standing Travers moved across the cabin and poured himself a glass of scotch from the mini-bar. With a faint sigh his gaze drifted to the cabin window where rain fanned against the dark glass. His reflection stared back at him, distorted and dark, as he swirled the scotch in the glass, and then he lifted the glass to his lips. Taking a healthy swallow his eyes drifted shut as the burn of the liquor trailed down his throat. "It's been a long time, Angelus, but the Council will have what it wants." He whispered softly to his reflection as his eyes drifted back open. "Two birds with one stone---the ultimate killer and the first child born of a slayer. What an exquisite team the two of you shall make. Soon the Council will possess the power it has sought. No one will defy us." 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