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.

WARNING!!! This chapter has some scenes of remembered torture. I don’t know how graphic to consider it; it does not go into excruciating detail but it’s still not nice. Sorry.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Lucinda was secluded in a pretty little office that opened off a huge Library - Spike was beginning to wonder just where the hell they were. He was pretty sure they were in Sunnydale, but this couldn’t be the old mansion - could it? If it was, Deborah, Tomas and Drusilla had done some major magic to get it looking like this.

His blond Sister was sitting at a desk, hunched over a pile of papers and maps, frowning as she traced a finger along a twisting line that was either a road or a river.

Spike couldn’t tell, and he didn’t feel like getting close enough to Lucy to find out. Out of all his Brothers and Sisters, Lucinda was the one he hated the most.

Angelus had let go of him, and since the room wasn’t big enough for him to get far enough away from the Poof for the anklet to freeze him, Spike decided to explore. There were other desks besides the one Lucy was sitting at, and the drawers just begged to be rifled.

He shot a quick look at his Sire, who was currently bending over to drop a kiss on Lucy’s head.

"How are you progressing, Wicked Girl?" Angelus rumbled affectionately, leaning over her shoulder to survey the desk.

"I’m getting closer, Father," she replied, beaming up at him with her big blue eyes and a 100-watt smile on her deceptively innocent face. "I think I shall have something for you in an hour or two."

"Excellent!" Angelus looked down at the map. "Where are you now?"

Spike stuck out his tongue at their backs and turned his attention to the desk drawers.

The first desk was boring - must be Tomas’. It had a lot of dry old books about demon languages; while Spike could read those if he wanted to, he didn’t feel like studying the grammar of the early tenth century Morlak language.

There weren’t any pictures, either, so he couldn't amuse himself with those mustaches he’d plotted over earlier.

The only other things in the desk were parchments, yellow legal pads, old fountain pens and some newer gel pens. Trust Tomas to cling to his old-fashioned crap even while he used the easier new stuff. He took a bit of time to draw some obscene stick figures on the first pages of the legal pads before he got bored.

Another peek at Lucy and Peaches found them murmuring softly as they bent over a new map. He took the opportunity to move to the next desk, since they’d apparently not even realized he’d rootled through this one.

This one was a lot more interesting - it was Daniel’s.

Which meant the drawers were full of weapons.

Pretty little knives, in leather scabbards or carved wooden boxes, more boxes with talismans, throwing stars, a blowpipe - all sorts of strange and exotic things that he itched to try out. There were books, too, more interesting than Tomas’ - full of strategy and fighting styles. Some were illustrated, but he wasn’t going to draw in those. Tomas would fuss at him and maybe beat him - Daniel would rip his skin off.

Besides, there weren’t any pens in this desk.

He picked up a little knife with a wooden handle and a shining blade, wanting a closer look. There was something carved into the handle, some design, but it was so old that he was having trouble making out what it was. Without shifting into game-face and using the sharpness of his vampire sight, the lines looked faded and dim.

Maybe a lion, he thought, squinting and bringing it closer to his eyes. Sure, there was the mane, and a roaring mouth full of teeth...

"William!" Lucy said sharply, and a hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped in surprise, and lashed out without thinking.

Unfortunately, he lashed out with the hand that was holding the knife.

Lucinda gasped with surprise and stepped back, a thin line of red raising up on her arm, just above her elbow, and across the ribs of her right side.

‘Not very deep,’ Spike’s brain informed him calmly even as the rest of him started to panic, ‘only caught her with the tip of the thing.’

Not that it mattered. He remembered the first time Lucy had ever come to visit Angelus - after she’d spent the usual day or three in his bedchamber with him, she’d come out to meet Drusilla - and William, though he was pretty sure he was just an afterthought. She’d been quite taken with her pretty new Sister, and William had been ignored.

He’d been perfectly happy with that; she was the third of his new ‘Family’ that he’d met, and the other two, Tomas and Daniel, had been no fun at all. He still shuddered every time Angelus mentioned their names.

Lucy had spent most of her remaining visit with Darla and Drusilla, and it had been one of the rare times Angelus had taken William to his bed, so Wil had been quite happy to have her there.

Until the last few days of her visit.

He’d been in the Library of the current house they were staying in, looking over some of the racier novels that his mother had never allowed him to read, when hands had suddenly grasped him from behind, wrapping tightly around his upper arms.

Startled, he’d automatically elbowed the person behind him - elbowed them so hard that he’d heard a rib crack.

The person behind him had been Lucy.

Angelus had been furious. He’d beaten William with a cane until he was a mass of blood and bruises, huddled at his Sire’s feet and whimpering softly, trying to apologize, to explain - but Angelus wouldn’t listen. He’d hauled him to his feet and threw him on the bed for the fucking half of his punishment.

Then Lucinda had interfered, and asked if she could punish him, herself. After all, she told her Sire reasonably, it was her rib that the little idiot had cracked.

Angelus had laughed and nodded. "Just don’t kill him, my Girl," he’d teased her, and left her to it, sweeping out of the room and calling for Drusilla.

Lucinda had looked down at her Brother and smiled that innocent smile.

Wil had soon wished that Angelus hadn’t put the ‘don’t kill him’ limit on her. Within an hour, he wanted to die.

First, she’d broken all his ribs in payment for her own - that wasn’t so bad, he was getting used to broken bones and Angelus had already cracked most of them with his beating. But then his Sister had turned to what she called ‘delicate torture’.

Delicate torture turned out to be agony. She’d dipped wooden sticks in holy water and used them to draw pictures on his skin, occasionally driving the sticks through him in areas that wouldn’t dust him. The water had burned through him, searing holes in his body, mixing into his bloodstream. He’d screamed himself hoarse with that, and had no voice left when she took a crucifix in a pair of tongs and began to burn crosses onto his flesh.

The night had descended into a blood-red haze. She’d used knives, rosaries, pliers - William hadn’t been able to think, hadn’t been able to move. He just lay there in anguish, wishing she would disobey Sire and stake him. Every time he’d start to slip into unconsciousness, she’d open his mouth and place a single drop of her blood on his tongue - just enough to keep him awake.

She’d slept the day away, laying beside him on the blood-soaked bed, and no one else had entered the room.

As soon as she woke, she played with him a little more, forcing his eyes open and burning him into tormented blindness by dripping holy water directly into them. He’d been unable to move after her treatment from the night before; all he could do was open and close his mouth in silent screams.

After that, he couldn’t see what she was doing - somehow, this had helped him to slip away into some sort of daze, even though his body was still registering pressure and pain. When he came back to himself, he was alone, cold and hungry and still blind. He was wrapped up in a ball in the corner of a room; he didn’t know if it was Angelus’ room or not and he didn’t care. His wounds had healed a little - a very little - but he still didn’t want to move. His whole body ached and his eyes were balls of flaming agony.

It might have been a good thing that he couldn’t move - he’d have crawled into the sun, if he could have found a window.

He heard others come into the room and leave it - Darla, Angelus, Drusilla - but he didn’t hear Lucinda. He heard the bed creaking as Angelus fucked the females he had left, heard their delighted cries. He smelled the blood of the prey his Family brought home, but none was offered to him. It was like he wasn’t even there. They ignored him until he had healed enough to slowly begin moving around, to find their discarded prey and lick weakly at the blood they’d left behind.

Nearly a week later, Angelus had brought home some street rat, flung the man at him and told him to feed. That blood had brought back some of his sight - he’d blinked at his Sire, seeing him through a red mist. Angelus had lifted his chin and turned his head back and forth, studying him.

"You’ll heal," he’d finally said, shrugging as he let his youngest Childe go. "Let that be a lesson to you, boyo - don’t be hurting my Childer. Now go out and find your own food."

William had - one of the few times in his early years that he’d been desperate for a hunt, instead of feeling badly about it. It had taken eight nights and ten good feedings before his sight was fully restored, and over a month before he could no longer find a trace of Lucinda’s ministrations on his skin.

Lucy had visited several times after that, and William had always found something to keep him busy far, far away from the lair until he knew she was gone. Once or twice, Angelus had forced him to stay there - he didn’t disobey the ‘don’t you dare leave’ order any more, but Angelus hadn’t told him not to hide. He’d spent one visit under Drusilla’s rarely-used bed, and another inside a trunk in the attic.

Desperate times made a vampire do desperate things.

All this ran through his mind in seconds, as he watched in horror as the blood began to soak through Lucinda’s pretty blue blouse. Angelus came running across the room, reaching for Lucinda, and Spike dropped the knife and darted away to the temporary safety of a shadowy corner.

"Are you all right?" Angelus pulled up Lucy’s shirt to examine the wound on her side, his eyes worried.

"It’s just a scratch," she assured him, "I barely feel it."

"Yes, it’s already stopped bleeding," Angelus agreed. For a moment, Spike thought he was going to lick the blood off of her, but then he seemed to remember something.

"William - come here," he’d ordered, gesturing to him.

Spike gestured right back, but not with anything polite. He was about to have the unlife beaten out of him, but he wasn’t going to meekly accept it this time.

"William?" Angelus had the bloody gall to sound confused - he let go of Lucy and started toward him.

Spike panicked - that’s all the excuse he had. He dodged around his Sire and bolted for the door of the office.

"William!" Angelus shouted after him, and Spike realized what was about to happen. He tried his best to backpedal, but momentum kept him going forward -

- until he was frozen in place, unable to move a muscle, not even to shift his eyes. The only thing that seemed to work was his lungs - they were panting frantically, and it only got worse as he heard Angelus and Lucinda approaching him.

"Little One - whatever were you thinking?" Arms folded around him, and he was pulled close to Angelus’ broad chest, turned until his vision was filled with the riveting view of Angelus’ left ear.

"Calm down - what’s wrong?" Angelus began to purr softly, trying to soothe him, but Spike could see Lucy getting closer, coming up behind Angelus in the corner of his eye, and he was pretty bloody certain he was going to start hyperventilating. Have the first ever Vampire Panic Attack.

"Wil," Angelus used the rare shortened version of his name, and then kissed him firmly, just below his right ear.

Spike felt the stiffness leave, and he could move again.

So he immediately began to struggle. "Lemme go!" he demanded, "bloody Poof! Leggo o’me!" ‘Before she gets any closer,’ his brain added.

"Wil, what is wrong?" Angelus had the nerve to act concerned now, gripping William’s chin and trying to get him to look him in the eye.

"Father," for some reason, Lucy wasn’t coming any closer, "I think it’s me."

"What’s you, darling?" Angelus asked, not turning his attention away from William.

"I think it’s my fault he’s panicking," she clarified.

"Not panicking, you ruddy tart!" Spike shouted.

They ignored him. "Why is that?" Angelus finally looked at her.

"Because of what I did the last time I startled him," she said, looking sad.

Looking sad! Lucinda the Searcher - the girl that Angelus, the bloody almighty Scourge of Europe, called his Wicked Girl - looking sad! Spike wanted to spit on her. He couldn’t believe Lucy was joining in this We-All-Love-William-and-Regret-What-We-Did-to-Him game.

"Oh," Angelus actually paled a bit, and swallowed. "I - I can’t believe I forgot about that."

Lucinda bit her lip, and started crying. "I can’t believe I did it."

*

Angelus was torn. He wanted to go to Lucy and comfort her, but there was no way he was letting go of William. His Little One would probably make another pointless run for it, and he couldn’t take him with him. His Boy was justifiably terrified of Lucy, and he should have remembered that.

Luckily for all their sanity, Penn came hurrying down the hall.

"Sire? What’s going on - I heard shouting?" His gaze fell on Lucy, on her tear-streaked face and her blood-soaked shirt. "Lucinda! What happened?!" He went to her and pulled her into his arms, only then turning his attention to their Sire and the white-faced, trembling vampire he was clutching close to him.

*

‘Oh, bloody hell,’ Spike thought, wondering if it was possible for a vampire to faint. Now Penn was here - Penn who was just as strict about repaying injuries to Family with a right good beating as Angelus was. Where was a chip attack when he actually wanted one - a good hard shocking that would knock him unconscious so he wouldn’t feel what was about to happen?

For that matter, where was a Scooby to slap when he needed one?

Or hey, he could punch Buffy!

No, that would just make his beating worse - she’d knock him across the room, then Angelus would add touching his precious Slayer to the list of things he was already in trouble for - hurting Lucy, being rude to his Sire, running from his Sire...

"Gabriel, make sure Lucy is going to be all right before you let her go back to work," he heard Peaches say, "I think I need to take William back to our room before he falls over."

"Yes, Sire," Penn the perfectly-obedient Childe answered, "do call for me if you need me."

"I will," Angelus replied, then Spike felt himself being picked up again - bloody hell, he’d been carted around more in the last week then he had when he’d been a damn baby - and carried down the hall toward their suite.

Spike just closed his eyes. If he pretended to be unconscious, maybe it would save him...