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 Eight

“William.”

Spike heard the voice, but it wasn’t worth opening his eyes over.

“William, wake up.”

He growled softly, and snuggled deeper in the soft covers.

“William...” someone touched the back of his neck and he spun around, in full game-face, fingers gripping like iron bands around Deborah’s wrist.

“Don’t touch me,” he growled, “you don’t ever touch me.”

She stared at him, green eyes wide with astonishment - then she nodded. “All right, William. All right. I won’t.”

He let her go, his features shifting back to their beautiful human form, glaring angrily. “What the bloody hell do you want?” He asked, squinting even though the light was dim. His chip was firing mildly, like it always did lately when he first woke up, and it was a weakness he didn’t want to remind them about right now.

“Father wants you to feed. He’s not here, but he left this for you,” she said quietly, picking up a thermal carafe from the bedside table. She took off the lid, and the scent of warm Sire’s blood hit him hard.

He didn’t take it, though. He just stared at her through narrowed, suspicious eyes. “Where is he?”

“He had a meeting to go to.”

“With who?” Spike asked, sitting up further, making sure his lower half was well-covered. Usually he wouldn’t have cared, but his family used to be full of raging perverts - himself often included - and he didn’t know the rules of this new family yet. Best not to take chances.

“With the Slayer.”

Spike snorted. “Knew he’d still be panting after that bitch. Where’re me clothes?”

“He’s not interested in her sexually, Little One. There’s only one person he wants that way right now. And you’re not allowed clothes just yet.”

“Wot’s that supposed to mean?!” he demanded, darting out a hand and snatching the carafe away from her while she was distracted. He was so used to having to grab for his food anymore that it never really registered that she’d been holding it out to him.

She blinked at him as he quickly drained the cup, pink tongue darting out to catch any stray drops. Anger flickered through her eyes. “Those horrible humans - they should be skinned slowly, for starving you the way they did! If Father would let me, I’d give them nightmares for the rest of eternity!”

Spike snorted. “Uh huh. So, where’s Penn? Thought the Poof said feed from him if he wasn’t here?”

“He took Gabriel with him. We asked him not to go alone; who knows what those creatures might try? They seem to think they own him - they have tried three times already to ‘stick his soul back on’.” She sneered in blatant disgust.

“Sounds like ‘em,” Spike replied, staring down sorrowfully into the empty cup. He was still a little hungry, but it was a lot better than what he was used to getting.

Deborah caught the look. “He’ll be back soon, William, and I’m sure he’ll feed you more.”

“Don’t need any more,” Spike said quickly, tossing the cup aside like it didn’t matter. “So, what about the clothes? Why can’t I have ‘em?”

“Father said you can have clothes only when he says you can. You’ll have to ask him why.”

“And this?” Spike stuck his foot, with the silver-shackle anklet, out from under the covers.

“That stays on until our Sire says it comes off,” Deborah replied sweetly, “and no trying to get away, Little One. If you - or anyone but Father - were to unfasten it, there’s a lovely little spell tucked inside that will freeze everyone in a ten-foot radius in place until Father releases you. And I’m sure he’d be quite unhappy.”

“Figures,” Spike spat, feeling a cross between vindication and dread at this first threat.

“He won’t hurt you, Little One,” Deborah said softly, apparently aware of what he was thinking. She reached out to touch his hair, but remembered her promise and pulled her hand back. “Things are different now.”

Spike just rolled his eyes. “Sure they are, luv. Look, why don’t ya vanish? Wanna take a shower.”

“All right. The chain will be long enough - it’s magical. It will stretch to let you go anywhere in Father’s suite - just not outside of it.”

“Oh, nice,” Spike snarked, “that’s just lovely. Well, toddle off, then - not gonna wander around in front of you in just me skin.”

“Too bad,” Deborah said, with a definite smirk as her eyes drifted over his bare chest. “But I’ll leave you alone. There’s an intercom next to the door, if you need anything.”

Spike didn’t reply, just watched her as she left. He wasn’t going to call for anything - yet. He wanted to get the hang of what was going on here, first...

...but that intercom had definite irritation possibilities, later.

*

He was rinsing the shampoo from his hair when his newly-refreshed Bond told him Angelus was back. He ignored it, assuming that the Elder vampire would be discussing his meeting with his other Childer.

Then he felt cool air against his back, and strong arms wrapped around his soapy-slick body.

“Gah!” he yelped, automatically trying to escape.

Angelus just tightened his arms. “Did you sleep well, my William?” he purred, brushing his lips against Spike’s ear. One hand slid up a firm stomach and across a smooth chest to tweak his captive’s nipple.

“Like the dead,” Spike said flatly, the pun fully intended.

“Good,” Angelus ignored the sarcasm, “and did you eat?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you want more?”

“No,” Spike lied.

“Are you sure?” A wrist appeared in front of his eyes, with a thin cut already opened on it. The warm water of the shower, mixing with the blood, quickly painted his Sire’s skin a gorgeous red. Spike bit his lip, held out for about two seconds, then snapped, yanking the offered arm to his mouth.

“I thought so,” Angelus was purring again, making Spike contemplate punching him for a moment - if the rich taste in his mouth hadn’t been too much of a distraction. Drinking from the cup had been good, but drinking directly from the source was nirvana.

He felt Angelus’ lips settle against his neck, mouthing the delicate skin. His Sire worked his way down from just below his ear to his shoulder, even as a hand slid down his side and curled around his awakening erection. Angelus’ own cock was hard and ready, pressing into the smooth curve of his arse. He closed his eyes, willing himself to ignore what was going on, trying his best to convince himself that he didn’t want it.

That he hadn’t always wanted it, wished for it, longed for it...

That he hadn’t spent his fledgling days lying awake, listening to Angelus with Darla or Drusilla or one of his visiting Childer and wishing his Sire had wanted him enough to spend those long, lazy hours with him, instead of the quick, hard sex he got when no one else was there for Angelus to play with.

He tried to distance his mind from this now, even though it was what he had wanted, all those many years ago.

Because it couldn’t last.

No one ever wanted to stay with him.

And he wouldn’t be able to exist if he had his heart broken again. Drusilla had been bad enough. Having his Sire the way he had always wanted his Sire, and then losing him... he couldn’t even wrap his brain around the concept.

It would kill him.

“You’re thinking very hard,” Angelus murmured softly, his hand sliding around to begin probing at him, the fingers slick with soap gathered from Spike’s skin. “What’s going on in that head of yours?”

“Nothin’,” Spike grumbled, licking at the cut on Angelus’ wrist before letting it go. Even as he swore to himself he wasn’t going to get emotionally involved with this vampire again, he found himself spreading his legs to make those fingers slide in deeper.

“Beautiful Childe,” the bigger vampire crooned, grasping Spike beneath one slippery thigh and lifting his leg, wrapping his other arm around Spike’s ribs and leaning him forward far enough to push gently inside, “don’t lie to me. Something is bothering you.”

“Wot you goin’ ta see the Slayer for?” Spike demanded - when he could breathe enough to talk again - bringing up a smaller grievance in order to hide the older, deeper hurt. “Still after her?”

Angelus chuckled. “Are you jealous again, William? There’s no need to be.”

Spike just moaned in reply - his Sire’s hard cock had nudged his prostate and made pretty lights start dancing in front of his eyes.

“Mmm...” Angelus hummed against his neck, “Gods, Childe, I don’t know how I ever let you get away from me, soul or no soul. You’re so tight... and so beautiful...”

Spike very nearly bit him - the last thing he had wanted right now was his Sire bringing up their history. “Wot’s that s’post ta mean? Didn’t want me when ya had me, or is yer memory failin’ ya?”

“Who says I didn’t want you?” Angelus purred, thrusting harder, which made his Childe start squirming. He moved his arm from around Spike’s waist and wrapped a slick hand around his arousal, stroking him in time to his own movements. “I wanted you as soon as I saw you.”

“Uh huh...” Spike managed, between gasps, “I’m real sure... ya wanted ...a half-dead ...pansy-arse kid that ...Dru dragged home like ...garbage...”

“You are not garbage,” Angelus growled, a hint of anger in his voice, “and besides - that was far from the first time I saw you.”

“The hell is that s’post ta mean?” Spike demanded, then abruptly lost his train of thought as cool fangs sank into his neck and his Sire thrust so firmly that his feet nearly left the shower floor. He felt his eyes roll back, and he gave a desperate, choked half-scream, trying not to come.

Angelus gave a rumbling growl of amusement, and the big hand that had been holding Spike’s thigh slid forward, keeping the smooth leg hooked over his arm while his fingers began playing with full, rounded balls, cupping and rolling them.

Spike whimpered. Was his Sire trying to kill him?!

“Are you remembering old lessons?” Angelus asked, slipping his fangs free and nuzzling Spike’s cheek. “You can come whenever you want, Little One; I’m not going to punish you for it.”

“Wasn’t...” Spike wanted to deny that he had been even the slightest bit worried about punishment, but Angelus went straight back to pounding against his sweet spot and the words got lost in the resulting moans.

“Weren’t you?” Angelus shifted them slightly until the warm water of the shower was flooding over Spike’s groin, adding to the stimulation of his hands and cock.

Spike shuddered desperately, still trying to hang on to his climax even if Angelus had given him permission to come. It was the principal of the thing - he wasn’t going to give in and orgasm and let his Sire know he had been waiting for his consent. “No, I b-bloody well wasn’t!”

“Hmm...” Angelus dropped down to Spike’s shoulder and hummed thoughtfully, the sound vibrating against his skin. “I’m not so sure,” he whispered, making sure his lips brushed against his Childe with every word.

Spike’s eyes were huge, his fingers twitching wildly as he tried to keep from grabbing his shaft and staving off coming - or grabbing Angelus’ head and slamming it against the wall. Dirty rotten bugger, never played fair...

“Want you to come for me, Little One,” Angelus whispered, dusting small, teasing kisses along water-slick skin, across Spike’s shoulder and up the side of his neck. He paid special attention to the already-healing bite mark, grinning slyly as his boy shuddered. His tongue darted out to lave the spot, licking it thoroughly, brushing blunt teeth against Spike’s neck but not the slightest touch of fangs.

“P-p-peaches... I hate you...” Spike moaned, helpless as he tilted his head and bared his throat, completely submissive at the lure of his Sire’s fangs.

“I know you do,” Angelus was still whispering, his voice an odd mix of sadness and amusement. “I know you do, sweet Childe.” He held his youngest closer, enjoying the slick skin against his own, the tight clasp of a virgin-turned body around his cock. “But I’m going to change that. Now, come!”

With that brief command, he set his fangs firmly into Spike’s throat, more harshly than he had earlier.

Claiming him.

Spike howled, his body arching in the circle of his Sire’s arms, cool semen shooting out to coat the shower wall in front of him, until the falling water washed it away.

Angelus gave a snarl of satisfaction, swallowing his brief mouthful of Spike’s blood and giving a few last, shallow thrusts into his Childe’s perfect body before he, too, found his release.

They stood, swaying slightly, under the warm fall of water for a long, silent moment.

Then Angelus chuckled, quickly swiped a rag over himself and his Boy, scooped Spike up in his arms and left the shower.

“Hey!” Spike immediately protested, “I can walk, you tosser!”

“I’m perfectly aware of that,” his Sire replied, and kept right on carrying him. He took him into the bedroom, to the fireplace that was built into the far wall. A single word muttered under his breath had the flames leaping to life.

Spike stared as he was set down in front of the sudden warmth. “Since when do you use magic like that?” he demanded.

“Since I have Drusilla, Deborah and Tomas living with me. The whole house is magical right now - we scarcely need minions. It’s very nice.”

“Shades of Harry Potter,” Spike muttered, beginning to purr involuntarily as Angelus plucked a towel from somewhere and started drying him briskly.

“Shades of who?” Angelus asked, pausing to give him a puzzled look.

“Never mind, Peaches,” Spike sighed, “one o’ these days, though, you gotta think ‘bout joinin’ the twenny-first century.”

Angelus scowled at him and smacked his thigh gently. “Be nice, now, brat.”

“Make me,” Spike shot back without thinking, then went very still at the memory of some of the times Angelus had made him be ‘nice’.

It usually involved a lot of pain and blood.

Spike’s pain and blood.

Angelus didn’t seem to notice that the body he was still drying had gone stiff and still. “I suppose you and the others will have to teach me some of the things you keep talking about. Tomas insists that I have to watch some movies about a ring, and Daniel is equally insistent that I learn what ‘paint balling’ is.” He gave Spike’s back one final swipe with the towel, then started drying himself.

“Uh, yeah, paint ball is fun,” Spike finally managed to stop gaping at him, “can’t see you playin’ it, though. Not your style. Might get paint in your hair.”

Angelus’ hands immediately went to his head.

Spike snickered.

His Sire scowled.

Spike snickered again.

“As long as we’re speaking of hair,” Angelus said smoothly, “I want you to stop using gel.”

“It’ll get all bloody curly,” Spike protested, amusement vanishing.

“I know. And I want you to let it grow out to that pretty tawny color. No more of this white,” he reached out and flicked a lock of platinum hair.

“I look like a bleedin’ ponce when...”

“William,” Angelus took him by the shoulders and pulled him closer, gazing into his eyes. “I want you to look like yourself. Not this smart-ass punk you’re pretending to be. I want my Childe.”

Spike glowered at him. “This is what ya get now, Peaches. I killed everythin’ else.”

His reply was a hard, possessive kiss, fangs clinking against his teeth and a tongue thrust into his mouth. He shivered, and his traitorous hands settled on Angelus’ shoulders, gripping tight.

His Sire raised his head minutes later, and smirked down at glazed blue eyes and kiss-swollen lips. “I don’t think so,” he purred, “I think I see my William looking at me right now.”

“Bastard,” Spike said, without the slightest bit of heat. He was too woozy from that kiss.

“I know,” Angelus smiled again. “Now - I have a book for you to read, William. A very important book.”

“Don’t like reading,” Spike said, stepping away from him.

“Don’t give me that. You used to bury your nose in any book you could grab - when you thought no one was watching you.”

“An’ how do ya know that?”

“Because I was always watching. Now come on.”

Spike didn’t budge. “Clothes?”

“No. If you’re dressed, it makes it easier for you to run away. No clothes until I’m sure I can trust you not to escape.”

“Great,” Spike groused, following his Sire as Angelus strolled toward a large mahogany desk, “I get to be naked for the next hundred years.”

Angelus just laughed.

Spike wondered if this book was going to be big enough to hurt when he grabbed it and started beating his Sire over the head...?