Sweet William

AUTHOR: Little Mouse (elf_night@hotmail.com)

WARNINGS: For violence and language and explicit, vampiric, m/m yummy bits.

ARCHIVE: Please ask first.

SUMMARY: Drusilla, in an effort to return Spike to being her 'dark prince', tries to change him back to the way he was when he was called William the Bloody. It doesn't work out quite the way she expected. This story is slightly AU as per vampire lore, and Angel is Spike's Sire.

CHAPTER  FIVE

Five minutes later, Angelus sent one last punch crashing into Georges' jaw, and the other vampire flew across the alley to land in a heap next to some trash cans. His Minions milled around him, angry that he'd lost the fight but knowing better to interfere between two Masters. Anyway, they still had to watch out for that idiotic Slayer, didn't they? Dusting them when they were obviously harming no one!

Angelus wiped the blood off his mouth and turned to glare at Ian. "Are you next?" he asked coldly.

The Dracula wanna-be started forward, but a cold, crisp voice stopped him.

"You saw the Childe accept his offer, Ian of Harrovian. You have no right to demand battle here."

Attention turned to the tall vampiress next to Ian. She was easily six feet, possibly more, so slender that she almost looked skeletal. White-blond hair was caught up in an elaborate arrangement on her well-shaped head. Large green eyes flicked from Angelus to William and back again. Otherwise, she didn't move. Her body was contained in a stillness, a peacefulness, that only very old vampires could achieve.

"Elsa," Angelus said respectfully, inclining his head to the High Master of the Nara-Magi Clan. He hadn't seen her in over a century, but she could be no one else. She even wore the same kind of long, old-fashioned brown velvet dress she'd worn then, her heavy skirts fluttering in the wind only adding to the eerie stillness of her body.

"Angelus," she replied calmly. "May I speak to your Childe?"

He hesitated, his own eyes going over William, then nodded.

"William of Aurelius," she said softly, taking a single step closer. "Your Sire has offered for you and I will not interfere. I will grant you though, this boon; if you find yourself rejected again, or unhappy, you may come to me, and my Clan will accept you as one of our blood. Even if this spell is not permanent, and you are once more Spike, the Slayer of Slayers, you will find refuge with us - and we do not abandon our own."

Without waiting for a response, she turned and began to walk off into the night. Half of the still-living Minions followed her - as did a few Masters and Childer who appeared from shadowy corners.

Angelus shook his head. He should have known Elsa would never come to a Hellmouth with just Minions. He was very lucky she had reacted the way she did.

He turned back to deal with Ian, who was still glowering and looking as though he wanted to argue.

Elsa's voice floated back. "Leave that silly Ian to the Slayer, Angelus. Your Childe is bleeding. Tend to him."

Angelus immediately turned his back on the sputtering Harrovian Master and stalked over to the humans grouped around William. They were quick to move out of his way; possibly because his eyes were glowing amber and his fangs were in full evidence. William was the only one who stood his ground, gazing at him like he'd never seen anything so beautiful.

Angelus swept the slender figure into his arms, burying his face in William's throat and breathing deeply, pulling his Childe's long-elusive scent into his lungs. "You have a lair, Childe?" he whispered, making sure the humans couldn't hear him.

William nodded, one hand twisting into his Sire's expensive silk shirt, determined not to lose his hold on him.

"Good," Angelus could scent the blood hiding under William's loose shirt. "You tell me where to go, Little One." He gathered him up completely, cradling him in his arms, and started running. His actions were so swift that the humans - even the Slayer - had no chance of following him.

Ian tried; but Angelus had suspected he would and did a neat double-back, laying a scent trail that would lead other vampires around in circles. Once he was sure they couldn't be followed, he obeyed William's whispered directions until he was standing in front of the dilapidated house.

He sighed. "I suppose it's better than that crypt, William, but..."

"It's good enough," his Childe whispered back, nuzzling against his throat and beginning to purr.

Angelus laughed softly. "Perhaps you're right - but I think we'll have something a bit better tomorrow night. Wesley should be opening the mansion back up; we'll stay there until you're healed. I won't risk traveling to LA when you're hurt."

William blinked at him in surprise, even as he reached out to push the basement door open. "It's only my shoulder."

Angelus turned before his Childe's slender hand could brush the wooden door. He used his hip to open it, instead. "I won't risk it. Did you clean the wound, William? Were there splinters?"

"A few," his Childe admitted as he was placed on the makeshift bed he'd made from Drusilla's silken trappings. "I got most of them out."

"Most of them?" Angelus unbuttoned the silk shirt, pushing it back and frowning at the blood-soaked cotton bandage. "Has it been bleeding all this time?"

"It stopped for a while."

Angelus' frown deepened, then he eased the shirt completely off. He paused for a moment, admiring the silken sweep of skin that he'd revealed. He'd forgotten his Childe was so pretty - all lean, lithe muscle and moonlight pale. "My beautiful Boy," he whispered, "I don't know how I ever left you behind."

William smiled at him, a mischievous little smile that he hadn't seen in over a century. "It must have been insanity, Sire."

Angelus eased the makeshift bandage loose, wincing as it clung to William's skin. The wound was deep, and nasty, its edges dark. "Sadly, not the temporary kind of insanity."

"You're not going to brood, are you?" William asked, lifting his good hand to begin playing with the spikes of Angelus' hair.

His Sire gave him an odd look. "Just how much of Spike is in there?" he teased, leaning closer to gaze into those blue eyes. "Do you know anything about him at all?"

"He's me, isn't he?" was the soft response.

"So you... what, you have his memories? You weren't just yanked out of nineteenth century England?"

"No, thankfully." William snickered at the thought. "I would have panicked. I - it was..." he trailed off, realizing that Angelus didn't know Drusilla was dead. How was he going to react? He didn't fool himself into thinking that his Sire hadn't loved his Sister more. She'd always been his favorite, his masterpiece of cruelty and madness.

"Elsa spoke of a spell. Is that what's going on, Little One? Is Spike still in there?" Angelus leaned his forehead against William's, rubbing their noses together slightly.

"I remember it all; like I read it in a book, like looking 'through a glass, darkly'," William whispered in reply.

"Ah. Wil, whose ashes were in the crypt? Was that really your chip we found?" He seemed surprised when William wiggled away from the fingers that were gently probing the ugly wound, picking out the tiny slivers of wood that his Childe had been unable to reach. He scented fear in the air. "Wil?"

"I'm sorry Sire. I wouldn't hurt her - I'd never have hurt her for the world, but I couldn't move and she knocked the candle over and she was burning. I couldn't help her, I would have, I promise..."

"Who, William?"

"Sister... Drusilla, Sire. I didn't do it, I promise..." he scrambled further away, wincing when Angelus' big hand closed on his ankle and prevented him from going any further.

"Those were Drusilla's ashes?" The deep voice was disturbingly calm.

"Yes, Sire," William whispered.

"And she burned? Why was there a stake? Why was your chip there?"

"I... I..." William swallowed, searching his Sire's blank face for a clue to his emotions. "I made it seem it was me, Spike, that I... he... had been staked. It was - Drusilla spelled the chip out... I don't know how..."

"Why did you make it seem it was you, William?" Angelus started pulling him closer, using the grip on that slender ankle. "Were you trying to hide from me?"

"No, Sire! F-from them - the Slayer and her humans - they would stake me if they knew the chip was gone. I didn't know you were here."

"And my Princess is dead? Why did she cast this spell on you, William?" Angelus stopped pulling him back, tracing some invisible pattern on his instep now.

"She - she said something about m-me taking care of her like I did when I was William the Bloody. She kept saying 'sweet' though and I think it affected the spell - I - when she saw me like this - I couldn't move, Sire, it was like she had chains around me - she was upset and she knocked over the candlestick. She was wearing an old lace dress and it just... it just..."

"Went up like a torch," Angelus finished heavily. "Oh - my poor, mad Drusilla! My little Girl!" He threw his head back and howled in misery, and William obeyed his instincts to crawl closer, making little crooning, whimpering sounds of comfort.

He was unprepared for Angelus' grabbing him and yanking him into his arms, pulling him impossibly close.

He turned his head, baring his neck, and squeezed his eyes shut. He waited for fangs or claws to tear into him; instead he got a face wet with sticky tears buried in his throat. "This leaves me with only you, William; I do not know where Penn is nor how I could find him. This leaves me with you, Little One, and I will never let you go again."

William started shaking. His Sire wanted him that much?! He had no idea what to think. He let his hands drift cautiously over the broad back, still making the little comforting noises, until Angelus' sobs ceased.

Then a wet tongue touched his throat, licking away the tears. Tracing around the faint mark left by his turning.

"You're still un-Claimed, my Wil," Angelus rumbled. "What am I thinking?"

William shuddered again when he felt the cool press of fangs against the softness of his throat. A faint 'pop' of his skin and the fangs slid in easily. Fingers wound in his hair and pulled his head back gently, exposing his vulnerable throat even further.

He wasn't about to try and stop him. His demon nearly trilled in joy - finally, Sire was Claiming him! After he'd thought it was never going to happen, that he'd spend his nights forever alone.

Angelus' strong hands stroked down his chest to his waistband, easily stripping the leather pants off him. William spread his thighs without question, more than ready for what came next. It was going to be hard and fast, but that didn't matter. There would be time for slow, languid love-making on another night, if his Sire was so inclined. This was about Claiming, about his Sire showing his dominance over the ecstatic vampire demon inside him.

Angelus surprised him by sliding a hand between his legs, two slick fingers probing at him. He smelled his Sire's blood, knew it was being used as a makeshift lubricant and he groaned. This was new. The first time he'd been Claimed by the Vampire looming over him, it had been unprepared, quick and bloody and over almost before the pain registered.

Apparently the soul had made more changes in his Sire than he had realized.

He wasn't about to complain.

He just spread his legs even wider, seducing his Sire with his submission. Little purring moans caught in the back of his throat even as his stomach cramped with hunger at the scent of Sire's blood.

"Soon, Little One. I'll feed you soon," Angelus crooned at him, not lifting his face from his neck but apparently able to tell how famished he was. He used the fingers he had bitten while William was comforting him to spread blood over his shaft, determined that his Childe would feel as little pain as possible. He was unable to wait to find anything else to use as lubricant, so blood would have to do - it was quite fitting, too. They were Vampires, after all.

He set his fangs more deeply into that luscious throat even as he thrust into his Childe. William arched up beneath him, gasping and clutching at his shoulders. He smiled ferally against the soft skin, pleased with the tightness clenching him. Easy to tell his boy had been turned a virgin; beyond erotic to know that he'd stay this tight for the rest of eternity.

He started with slow thrusts, but he quickly lost control, slamming hard into his Childe even as he growled against his neck. He felt his demon, so long trapped and pushed back, stir and suddenly snap to attention. Could feel it thrust out phantom arms and snatch the younger demon beneath him, jerking it into an embrace. Wrapping its entire essence around it and glorying in its progeny's unhesitating submission as the bond of his Claim snapped into place.

"Mine!" he snarled around a mouthful of blood.

"Yours!" his Childe instantly replied, keening in pleasure as his Sire slammed against his prostate.

Angelus pulled his fangs back long enough to slice open his own wrist. He pressed it against William's mouth. "Drink, Childe, and know the taste of your Sire," he ordered.

The younger vampire instantly latched onto his wrist, drinking hungrily. The pulling sensation shot straight to Angelus' groin and he howled, coating his Childe's inner walls with jets of come. Beneath him, William moaned softly and flung his head back, baring his neck again. Angelus whispered, "come now" - then dove down and sank his fangs back into his Claiming mark.

William screamed and obeyed, writhing as he covered their stomachs with cool strands of pearls.

*

It was almost an hour before either of them stirred.

Angelus eased his fangs out of William's throat, gently licking the deep bite mark until it began to heal under his ministrations. Satisfied, he turned his attention to his Childe's wounded shoulder, shifting until he could lick at the dried blood.

William whimpered when he moved - Angelus was still inside of him, and the sensations made when he shifted were very - interesting.

His Sire paused for a moment and grinned at him, then bit into his own tongue and went back to the wound left by Buffy's stake, coating it with a mixture of Sire's blood and saliva until it glistened wetly, already starting to pull together and heal.

"You should be all right by tomorrow night," he rumbled softly, moving back to nuzzle his Childe's ear.

William made a humming sound of agreement, lifting his Sire's hand and lapping at the blood that had dried on his wrist.

"Hungry?" Angelus asked him, moving to scent his hair, to rub his cheek against William's forehead.

"A little," his newborn admitted, still chasing every speck of blood he could find on his Sire's skin.

"Drink, then," Angelus urged, pressing his wrist to his mouth and waiting for the boy's fangs to pierce him. "I want you strong, Little One. We have tonight for you to rest and feed. Tomorrow night will not be so easy."

William gave him a questioning look as he nursed on his arm, and Angelus grimaced.

"Tomorrow, Childe, we have to explain things to the Slayer."

William groaned. "I think I lost my appetite," he whispered.

"Feed," Angelus growled, giving him a direct order. The growl changed to a pleased purr as his boy quickly obeyed. "I won't let her hurt you again."

Never again.

He hadn't liked the way Buffy spoke about Spike while they were in the cemetery, and he wouldn't forgive the fact that the Scoobies had let his boy try to exist in that gloomy, dusty crypt. And William was much more vulnerable than Spike had been, no matter if his beautiful, rebellious wild-Childe was still lurking somewhere behind those innocent blue eyes.

He wouldn't let them hurt him. He wouldn't let anyone hurt him.

No one hurt what belonged to him.

Not if they wanted to live.

Not even the girl he had once thought he loved.

No one.

And if they tried...

Well, then everyone would know that Angelus walked the earth again - and the soul wouldn't stop him from protecting his boy if he had leave the world ankle-deep in blood.