FAMILY

AUTHOR: Little Mouse (elf_night@hotmail.com)

DISCLAIMER: Once again, Joss', not mine. Still a lucky man.

WARNINGS: For explicit m/m stuff, and violence, and remembered abuse, and language, and lots of other stuff.

ARCHIVE: Please ask first.

SUMMARY: AU! Spike isn't in 'love' with Buffy, but has told Giles' the story of Drusilla turning him. He has the chip, but no soul. Angel's in LA. Anya doesn't exist. I moved forward the 'meltdown' of Spike's chip a bit.

STORY: Spike's little story of his turning isn't the exact truth... Angel loses his soul - or does he? and starts gathering his scattered family. Spike insists that isn't going to include him. He's so very, very wrong...

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

A low pitched, male voice that didn’t belong to his Sire. It took him a moment, but then he recognized it.

"Penn," he grumbled, not opening his eyes, "what do you want?"

"How do you feel?" Penn’s cool hand settled on his forehead, and he had to fight back the urge to growl and snap at him like he had Deborah.

Telling Deb off was one thing - Penn was a little different. He might not be one for randomly torturing his family, but he was a firm believer in respect and discipline. Spike’s smart mouth had gotten him in plenty of trouble with Penn before, and he still ached too much to want to deal with a beating right now.

"Aw’right," he muttered, settling for squirming away from the hand instead of biting it.

"Really?" The tone of Penn’s voice said he didn’t quite believe him.

Spike scowled. "Yeah."

"Then open your eyes and look at me."

Busted. If he opened his eyes, the first hint of light was going to make the chip start its mild morning-wake-up shocks, and his head still ached from last night’s fun lil’ episode.

"Don’t wanna," he muttered, deliberately yawning in hopes that Penn would think he was just sleepy.

"William, do as I say." Penn’s voice didn’t allow any room for arguing.

Spike growled a little, and cracked open an eye.

And immediately regretted it as the chip, instead of its usual mild shock, blasted his head with agony, ripped his nervous system apart, melted his bones with pain...

When the torment receded, he found himself in Penn’s arms, Penn’s blood in his mouth, sprawled across Penn’s lap.

Licking the cut on his Brother’s wrist closed, Spike leaned his head back jerkily and looked up at him.

Penn actually looked worried. Or maybe a bit more than that - there was real fear in those usually shuttered grey eyes. "Feeling better now?"

"Yeah," Spike managed. "What... why are you..."

"Father wished me to feed you, William - I’m sorry I woke you, but he’s decided to put you on a strict feeding schedule until you gain some weight. Does the chip always do that to you when you wake up?"

"No..." Muzzy-headed, Spike admitted to more than he normally would. "Usually just ...little twinge. Dunno why..."

"Perhaps yesterday’s trouble had something to do with it," Penn said softly, and Spike felt fingers began to stroke his hair. "William - you need to feed more."

"Not... hungry..." Spike was almost to tired to keep his eyes open.

"Just a little more," Penn’s voice was a soothing murmur. Spike felt himself shifted carefully, until smooth, cool flesh was pressed against his lips. "Bite, William - feed from me."

"Where’s the ...Poof?" Spike asked, struggling to focus and discovering that his face was pressed against Penn’s throat.

"Sire has meetings again. Feed, Brother."

"Who’s with him?" Spike woke up a little at that information. Last time Angelus had taken Penn - should he be on his own with Buffy and Giles?

"Daniel and Lucy are with him. Now feed." There was a no-nonsense order to Penn’s voice now, and Spike gave up, shifted into game face and carefully bit down. Penn’s rich, strong blood flooded his mouth with its taste and his body with its energy - some of the clawing exhaustion fled and his mind cleared.

Only to leave him utterly confused - he was feeding from his oldest Brother, the most traditional of all Angelus Childer - and yet Penn wasn’t following tradition. When an older Childe offered his blood to a younger, it always came with a certain price tag.

A sexual price tag.

And yet Penn’s hands just continued to pet him gently, stroking his hair and rubbing his shoulder. He could feel a bulge against his leg that told him his Brother was still turned on by feeding - all vampires were aroused when another fed from their blood - but Penn wasn’t doing anything about it.

He lay there in utter confusion, drinking down Penn’s blood in careful sips. He was remembering a time over a hundred years ago, when Penn offered him a scant mouthful of his blood in exchange for an entire night and day of humiliating, painful sex that had left him barely able to move.

He also remembered the pathetically grateful way he’d accepted the offer, just so he could feel that much closer to a member of his Family. Angelus had been entirely wrapped up in Darla at the time, Drusilla had been in one of her spells where she would speak to no one but her dolls - he’d been unbearably lonely, lonely enough to accept rape and torture for a half-minute of feeling like he’d belonged.

The memory made him want to howl - instead he pulled back, gave a single swipe of his tongue to Penn’s neck, and then reached for that bulge between his Brother’s legs. He was damned if he was going to owe Penn anything - this was prolly some bloody trick to make him feel like he’d been given some rare privilege and should be a proper, obedient Fledge to his all-knowing Elders.

Penn gasped when his hand closed around him. "William! What - no - you don’t have to do that!"

"Shut up, Penn," Spike growled, fully aware of the fact that his Brother was over a century older than him and strong enough to swat him across the room. "You know you want me to."

"William," Penn’s voice was a lot more breathless than Spike would have expected, "I - you shouldn’t..." the words ended on a gasp as Spike gave him a deliberate, firm squeeze.

"What, ain’t I good enough for ya now? Used to like me a little," Spike sneered.

"It’s not that, William... you’re my Brother and I love you..."

"Ha!"

"I do - but William... oh, gods... William, Sire won’t..." Penn tried again to move away, but Spike had a pretty firm grip on a very sensitive area.

"Won’t what? Won’t like it? He never cared before."

"Things are a bit different now," a new voice interrupted, and Angelus’ big hand wrapped around Spike’s - but instead of pulling him away, he opened Penn’s trousers and then worked with his youngest Childe to bring Penn to an astonishingly rapid climax.

Then again, Penn always did love it when Sire - when Peaches touched him.

Angelus leaned forward and brushed a kiss across Penn’s forehead, as his oldest lay in a happy, disheveled pile of goo. "Thank you, Gabriel, for taking care of William for me."

"You are very, very welcome, Sire," Penn had an incredibly stupid grin on his face.

Spike rolled his eyes.

"As for you," Angelus looked down at him solemnly, "you need a shower, I think."

"Whatever." Spike tried to get up, only to find that his knees were made of Jello and wouldn’t support him.

Angelus just scooped him up matter-of-factly, like his Childer collapsed around him every day. "Gabriel, when you’ve recovered," he was grinning at his dazed Childe, "gather the others in the den; I’ve something to discuss. I’ll be there once I’ve taken care of William."

"‘William’ can take care of his own bloody self," Spike piped up in a deliberate snooty, prissy voice.

Angelus ignored him. "All right, Gabe?"

"Yes, Sire," Penn didn’t move.

Angelus just grinned again, and strode off to the bathroom, where he ran a hot bath - instead of the shower like he’d said - and lowered his Childe into it.

"I can do this mys..."

"Shut up, William," Angelus echoed his words to Penn, earlier. "I want to take care of you, and I will. How’s your head?"

"Muffy."

Angelus blinked at him. "And what exactly does ‘muffy’ mean?"

"Means... I feel like it’s stuffed full of cotton wool and everything’s muffled."

"Ah." Those big hands picked up a washcloth and the soap, and then Spike was being bathed, as gently and carefully as if he were a fragile bit of porcelain.

"What are ya havin’ a meetin’ about?" Spike asked idly, watching as his stomach was washed with a thoroughness that seemed completely pointless.

"You’ll find out when you get there," Angelus teased him.

"When I get there? Ya mean ya gonna let me out of these rooms?" Spike’s interest levels skyrocketed.

"Yes."

"Don’t think I’ll run off any more?" He wondered if his Sire was really that stupid. The first chance he got, he was out of here.

"I’m sure you would if you got the chance," Angelus purred, moving his careful attentions to his Childe’s groin, "but you’re not going to get the chance."

"How come?"

"Because I have a lovely anklet - without a chain - for you that matches a bracelet I’ll be wearing - if you move more than twenty feet away from me, it’ll work just like this one and freeze you in place like a lovely statue."

"Until?"

"Until I set you free, of course." Angelus ducked down and swept his mouth into a kiss, licking at his lips until Spike gave in and opened them to the searching tongue. The nubby washcloth in his Sire’s hand went from gently washing him to firmly stroking him.

Spike had been mildly aroused while feeding from Penn - his oldest Brother was powerful, and the blood was divine, though nowhere near Angelus’ - but he’d been too tired and his head hurt too much for it to go beyond ‘nice’.

Now he went from half-hard to raging in an instant.

Gods, what kind of spell did Angelus have on him, anyway? He shouldn’t be this...

"Mmm..." Angelus murmured, shifting his attention to Spike’s neck, fangs taking a tiny nip of his skin. "Come for me, Little One."

And Spike did.

Then he glared down at his cock like he was going to chastize it for being disobedient. Since when did he come so fast? He’d gone from rather interested to blazing to coming in less than a minute! He’d learned to pride himself on his stamina and now...

Angelus was looking at him, very smug. "Your demon knows who I am, William, even if you won’t admit it."

"Huh?"

"You were wondering why you came so quickly, right?"

"No," Spike lied, wondering when the Poof learned to read minds.

"Oh, my mistake," Angelus sniggered.

Spike glared.

"Anyway - if you were wondering - just in case, you know - it’s because our demons have connected again, and yours will do its best to obey me. I wish," he smiled affectionately and ruffled Spike’s curls, careful not to jar his head, "I wish that you were so easy."

Spike snorted. "Where’s the fun in that? Do I get clothes for this meetin’, or do I just get to streak in front of everyone?"

"I may allow you a bathrobe," Angelus teased him, "as long as you’re good."

"Does that mean no flashin’?" Spike gave him an innocent look.

"Definitely."

"Hey, Buffy an’ Giles an’ them gonna be at this meetin’?" Spike demanded suddenly, "‘cause I ain’t goin’, if they are!"

"I thought you were used to working with them?" Angelus’ hand came up, and - for some unfathomable reason - gently traced along his bottom lip.

"Don’t mean I liked it," Spike grumbled, once again having to fight the urge to bite someone’s hand.

"How often did you fight?"

Spike narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Whaddya mean? Ya want to know how much I back-talked yer precious Slayer, ask her - she’ll be happy enough t’tell ya."

"She is not my ‘precious’ anything, William - and I’m asking you. How often did you fight - or how often, since it seems more truthful - did you argue and she ended up hitting you?"

Spike managed a laugh. "‘Bout as often as I went there, Peaches. Me an’ her just don’t get along. Never have, never will."

"But you were helping them..." Angelus frowned, a particular frown that, Spike remembered, usually appeared just before someone got in major trouble.

"Yeah, well, they didn’t ‘preciate my help much," he said, certain that Angelus was going to blame him for Buffy’s violence. It wasn’t like he’d ever tried to ‘play nice’, after all - and he was quite sure Buffy or Giles would inform Peaches of that as soon as the subject came up.

"So I heard - how did they decide on four bags of blood and twenty dollars?" The amount still made Angelus angry.

Spike shrugged, pushing away the rag that was still moving slowly between his legs and sitting up. "Was more than that, at first - Giles just thought there was no way I needed that much - he thought that I was stock-pilin’ it so’s I could have a stash. Thought I was either gonna run off or try an’ do somethin’ to them, join up with some other big-bad, maybe. So they started cuttin’ it down an’ down an’ down, ‘til I told ‘em I wasn’t comin’ anymore, if they give me any less."

"You didn’t say that until you were down to four bags?!"

"Well, no - I told ‘em that at ten bags an’ fifty dollars. They just didn’t believe me until it got down to three bags and ten dollars an’ I quit comin’. So they upped it back to four an’ twenty, an’ I was hungry, so I said okay."

"Hungry," Angelus sighed, knowing from personal experience that the word was a vast understatement. For a vampire to go without blood... "How long did it take before they ‘upped’ it?"

"Coupla days," Spike shrugged.

"William," his Sire frowned at him, "how long?" He knew his Childe would know the true amount of days - each day of ravenous hunger would be burned into his memory.

"‘Bout three weeks," Spike grumbled, reaching past him for the bottle of shampoo that sat on the ledge around the sunken tub.

"Exactly, William. I want to know exactly."

"Why?"

Angelus growled, his eyes flashing yellow.

"Twenny-six days," Spike said quickly, edging away from him. The last time he’d seen that look - from Angelus, almost a century ago, ‘cause Angel’s soddin’ soul would never let him show that amount of anger - he’d been caught sneaking out of the lair against his Sire’s direct orders and by the gods, had he ever payed for it!

"That’s closer to four weeks than three... Are you telling me they let you starve for a month before they gave in?!"

"I won couple bags o’blood off some Tralisk’ya demons in a poker game, so I didn’t go hungry for the whole..."

"William. Did you have any idea that Giles was reporting your condition to me?"

"Huh?" Spike stared at his Sire. Reporting... what... oh. "I heard Deb sayin’ somethin’ about it."

"And that was the first you knew? So Giles never told you that I was calling once a week?"

"Ta ask ‘bout me?"

"Yes. And he told me you were fine, healthy, well-fed and that you preferred to stay here instead of coming to me in Los Angeles."

"You. Wanted me. To come to LA..." Spike didn’t think he could get any more surprised.

"Yes, if you had wanted to come. I was more than willing to feed you and give you a place to stay."

"Yer lying," Spike said sharply, "ya wouldn’t ever..."

"I am not lying, and I’m going to make Giles admit it to you. Did he never mention my calls at all? Because he told me that you and he had ‘thoroughly discussed the matter’ and that you preferred to stay and fight with Buffy. He said you were still angry about Drusilla."

"No... I never knew ya was callin’..."

Angelus reached out and shifted his Childe closer to him, taking the shampoo and then scooping water over Spike’s curls before beginning to gently wash them. "Would you have come?" he asked softly, tilting his head and bending a little to watch William’s expression.

Spike felt lost. His Sire was either telling him a completely pointless lie, or he’d actually been willing to put up with him - while he was still Angel!

He couldn’t wrap his mind around that concept.

"Rinse your hair," Angelus said, not pressing him for an answer yet. He seemed to realize that he’d given his Boy too much information to process at once. "We need to get to the meeting. We have things to discuss with your Brothers and Sisters before the Slayer and her groupies arrive."

"Like what?" Spike asked, after he’d ducked under the water.

"Like some information we have about the Initiative, and about your chip."

"Oh, yeah?" Spike’s interest was caught again, and he pushed the idea of his Sire caring about his condition and wanting him while he still had that soul into a dark corner of his mind, to worry over it, ponder it later. This was a lot more important to him right now. "What’d ya do - d’ya really catch one o’them soldiers?"

"Oh, yes, indeed," Angelus’ grin was suddenly feral. "Drusilla is very tempting bait, you know. We caught a special fish with her - I think you might know him."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. He certainly knew you. And quite about the Slayer and the Watchers..."

Spike frowned at him, puzzled. "How would they know... oh. Oh!" His whole face lit up. "Oh, Peaches, please, tell me quick!"

Angelus beamed at him. "So you’ve guessed? I thought you would. Your Brother and Sisters brought you a special present - named Riley Finn."