Author: Mithril

E-mail: taptap2@gmail.com

Title: Most Favored

Pairing: Angel/Spike

Rating: Adult, Slash & Het

Summary: The Aurelius Clan chooses a new Master

Distribution: Various S/A friendly lists.

Spoilers: Post NFA.  Angel slays the dragon, and the battle is won with Illyria's manipulation of time, which also results in Wesley's return.  Angel, Spike, Wesley, Gunn, and Fred/Illyria are now back in the 'Angel Investigation' business.  All live in the Hyperion.

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or Spike or anything else from ME.

Feedback: Always welcome.

Part 69:

 

"I would like to try it," said Illyria.

 

"What?!" everyone else at the table shouted.

"No clan in the Order should have prestige above Angel's, as the Order's Master.  Sexual activity in this shell is pleasing and the strength I bring to it should allow me to meet the activation requirements of the spell.  I would like to fill this role for our Clan," she explained calmly.

The others stared at her, stunned.

"Illyria, you don't fully understand," Angel said.  "Yes, the Succubus spell will give you the ability to enjoy an extreme amount of pleasure, but there's a counterbalance.  You won't be able to go for any significant period of time without, um..."

"Without coming is what the poof is trying to say, Blue," Spike said, filling in Angel's pause.

"Spike," Angel growled.

"Sorry, sire," he said with an unrepentant smirk.

"Anyway," Angel said, the frown still heavy on his face, "Spike is right."

"I am?  Again?  That's twice in twenty-four hours," Spike murmured, his eyes twinkling

Angel rolled his eyes.

"There are ramifications to the spell that can't be avoided, Illyria," he continued.  "Even if you managed to successfully activate it, you would be bound by its magik thereafter.  And so far as I'm aware, there is no way to reverse the spell.  Once it's done, it's final.  That means you will always need the support of your clan or at least one other creature who will remain loyal to you always.  You won't be able to exist alone."

Illyria tilted her head and considered his words, then nodded.  "I understand.  Will you allow it if I choose it?"

Angel nodded slowly.  "With the pentacle in place, we have the means to attempt it, if that's your choice.  I only ask that you think about it a bit longer before making a final decision.  Maybe talk with the others about it to see what they think.

"I agree to your terms.  I shall give it serious thought."

"The rest of you should as well," Angel said, addressing the others.  "Illyria's decision will affect all of us.  There are obligations as well as rights when a clan agrees to accept an offering such as this from one of their own.  Don't take it lightly," he cautioned.

Everyone at the table nodded.  Even Spike suddenly looked solemn as he stared at Illyria, and Angel thought it was likely that he was seeing his little kitten Fred there now.  He recalled how Fred's presence had made itself felt to them both during the claiming bite, and knew that Spike had been wondering, as had he, what, if any, of their old friend still remained locked inside the shell behind Illyria's forceful personality.

"Okay," Angel said, breaking up the introspection that seemed to have laid claim to everyone at the table.  "Is there anything else anyone would like to add for discussion or consideration?"

Everyone shook their heads in the negative.

"Then I suggest we add a daily mid-evening review at nine so that we can make sure we're staying on track and address any obstacles.  Your training will start again tonight, from ten to midnight, followed by weapons training from midnight to two.  That should break up the day nicely while still allowing plenty of time to accomplish everything else – I hope," he added, the solution to ensouling the Order obviously on his mind.  "Oh, and we'll need to set up a rotating schedule for doing the dishes," he said, looking at the mess on the table.  "As the cook, I'm exempt," he said with a smile.

"And as the Big Bad, I'm exempt," Spike hurriedly added.

Wesley and Gunn laughed outright at the blatant attempt to avoid that chore.  Illyria cocked her head as though giving his claim due consideration.

"I'll put together the rotation, Angel," Wesley said, still smiling indulgently at both vampires.  "If that's okay with you and Illyria, Charles."

"Fine by me.  Been doing dishes since I was little," Gunn said with a shrug.

"I have never done it, but as a superior being I am positive I am more than capable of such a paltry task," Illyria agreed with equanimity.

The others smiled at the strangeness of that response, and the calm demeanor of the one who made it.

"Okay then, let's get on with it," Angel said, standing and rinsing his cup before leaving the room.

*   *   *

Spike and Angel spent the first part of the day reviewing and modifying Spike's proposed training plan.  They were soon happy with it and moved on to their next tasks; Angel to the cage room downstairs to work on the paintings he had planned, and Spike to the training room to lay out the weapons display on the walls.  He stared about the space for a bit, then went looking for Angel once more.

A knock on the door alerted Angel to his childe's presence.  He should have known he was there without it, of course, but he'd been pretty engrossed in sketching out a drawing on the piece of canvas he had propped up on his easel.

"Come," he called out, pleased that Spike had remembered Angelus' restrictions about not bursting in on him uninvited while he was working on his art.

Spike stepped in and glanced curiously at the canvas.  When Angel didn't reprimand him – he knew how sensitive his sire was about the early stages of his work – he moved forward to inspect it more closely.

The picture was laid out in landscape format and had only the lightest, simplest pencil outlines in place so far.  Still its subjects and theme were immediately recognizable to him.  There were two images each of Wesley, Illyria and Gunn.  The first set of images had them standing in a loose line, obviously portrayed as warriors by the lightly-sketched in weapons each held.  The second image was of the three of them in the same order, but this time they knelt in a line before the warriors in a traditional, at-ease submissive pose.  And although you couldn't tell from the light placement lines there so far, Spike was pretty sure the kneeling images would be naked and the males erect, as they should be, once the painting was complete.  He couldn't wait to see Charlie-boy's face when he saw the finished work.

"The pets.  Nice," he commented with a nod, keeping his thoughts about Gunn's reaction to himself.  Wouldn't want to make his sire rethink the original design, because it looked to become a very nice piece.

"Thanks," Angel answered, inspecting it critically for a moment more, before turning back to his childe.  "What did you need?"

"I'm putting up the hardware for the weapons and need you to tell me which spaces to leave free for this one and any others," Spike said, waving at the canvas before him.  Angel nodded and led the way back to the training room.

"Leave space on the center of this wall for the pets' picture," he said, indicating the side wall to the left as viewed from what would become the stage.  On the right wall, leave two open spots for portrait-formatted paintings.  About three feet or so wide each, and spaced to divide the wall into thirds.  Leave the space above the door empty – not like you'd put weapons there any," he added with a shrug.  "Don't put anything up on that wall," he said, indicating the far end of the hall where his chair would sit.  "I think we should have a heavy velvet backdrop hanging along that whole end, though, with only the banner in front of it.  The gleam of the silk should provide a nice black-on-black contrast to flat velvet.  That should do it.  Oh yeah, once you've got the weapons up, come and get me; I'd like to see it."

Spike nodded.  "I'll tell Wesley about the hangings.  I'm sure he can get someone in here to do it in the next few days."

"Good," Angel replied quietly.  It was clear there was something else on his mind.

Spike rolled his eyes.  "Stop brooding.  Out with it."

Angel looked up with a frown.  "Illyria."

"Yeah, what about her?"

"You know if she decides to follow through with the Succubus spell, we'll have to act as her catalysts?"

"Yeah, course," Spike replied, looking down at the ground.  "That a problem for you, mate?"

Angel shook his head.  "Not if it isn't for you."

Angel stood there a minute longer, then finally turned and headed for the door.  Halfway there he stopped and turned around again.  "And don't forget to take the weapons down and store them in the chest after training tonight.  We don't want to freak out the contractors."

Spike nodded, a thoughtful look on his face, and got to work while Angel returned to his project.

The first thing Spike did was haul all but a handful of their numerous weapons downstairs – wouldn't do to be caught without any above, in case they were needed in a hurry.  Then he began to lay them out on the floor around the perimeter of the three walls, in the order and configuration that he thought might be best for display.  He made many changes, and it was at least two more hours before he was satisfied and the attachment positions marked with chalk.  He had just laid the hardware associated with each grouping on the floor with the correct weapon sets, when Angel popped his head in from the hallway.

"Nine o'clock, Spike."

Spike nodded and joined him, and together they went upstairs to meet with the others.

Wesley already had the kettle on, and Spike joined him to help finish preparing the tea.  Gunn was making sandwiches as Illyria looked on curiously, while Angel opted for a cup from the pot of the ever-present dark-roasted coffee.

Like the breakfast meeting, this break was very casual as everyone talked about what they'd done this day, and what they still wanted to accomplish.  Wesley immediately pulled out the Yellow Pages when Spike and Angel told him about the plan for black velvet hangings, and found several suitable companies.  "I'll call them in the morning, while the contractors are here," he promised, and Angel knew that it would be done in no time.  Everything was going according to plan, except where the ensouling was concerned; nothing had yet been found to suggest any sort of solution to that problem.

"I'm going outside for a smoke," Spike announced after he'd downed several cups of tea and two jelly donuts.  "I'll expect to find the three of you kneeling below and waiting for me at ten."

He didn't wait for a response, but stomped off for the courtyard, pulling out his cigarettes and lighter as he went.

*   *   *

When Spike entered the training room fifteen minutes later, at ten o'clock sharp, Wesley, Gunn and Illyria were waiting for him, naked and on their knees in the at-attention position..  He walked around them slowly, inspecting their posture, made a few minor corrections, then nodded, satisfied.  Finally he took a wide-legged stance five feet before them.

"At ease," he said.

The three sank down onto their haunches, pulled their arms around front and rested their hands palms-down upon their thighs, then lifted their gaze upward, alert and aware of his motions without staring directly at him.

"Here's how these two-hour sessions are gonna work," he said.  "I will use the first hour to introduce new material and conduct formal drills on new and old material both.  The second hour will be spent working on a task that needs to be accomplished for the House, and during it you will perform exactly according to my instructions, even if they seem odd or overly detailed, in fact especially if they seem odd or overly detailed.  Following instructions to the letter is an important part of a pet's training.  The second hour will ensure that you become acclimated to using your knowledge in a practical, every-day manner.  During these two hours, Angel may also instruct or command you, and as always, you will follow his instructions exactly.  Do you all understand?"

The three nodded, though none spoke.

"Right, then.  I won't have new material to introduce every day, but today I'm going to teach you a new position.  It's commonly referred to as the Inspection posture.  Everyone on your feet."

The three stood up and adjusted their stance until they were standing with their feet shoulder-width apart and arms hanging straight down at their sides, in a relaxed but alert defensive posture.

"Hands behind your head, elbows out."

Hands were quickly raised and positioned.

Spike walked around the still figures correcting their posture.  He nudged Gunn's feet further apart to widen his stance, pulled Wes' bent arms back to open his torso further, and tapped under Illyria's jaw until she raised it another inch.  When he was through he moved to stand in front of them again.

"Even though you've only learned a few positions, you've probably already figured out that each one is considered either at-ease or at-attention.  The one you were in a minute ago is an at-ease position, while this one is at-attention.  That means the expectation for attention to detail is higher in terms of the straightness of your posture and position of your limbs.  There should be a great deal more tension in your muscles while at attention, than while at ease.  From here on out you will rarely if ever hear me or Angel use the words 'at-attention' or 'at-ease' when we give a position command.  In the few instances when there exists an acceptable version of both for a given position – for example with the command to kneel – you will take the at-attention one unless instructed otherwise."

"The position you are in now is the one you will take when given the Inspection command," Spike went on to explain.  "This command may be used for any number of reasons; to inspect for injury, to place on display, or simply for a master's entertainment and enjoyment.  When given this command, if clothed, you will immediately strip.  Even more than the other positions, it is expected that anyone given this command, vampire or otherwise, will assume the correct position with their arousal clearly displayed.  This is, of course, easier said than done, at least for non-vampire constitutions.  To help acclimate you to this response, we'll use something you're familiar with now."

Spike reached into one of the deep outer pockets of his duster and pulled out two thin strips of leather.  He stepped forward until he stood before Wesley, whose face was now bright red.  Reaching down his hand closed about the flaccid shaft and stroked it firmly.  He squeezed hard, drawing up tight, then sliding down to encompass the full balls, rolling and squeezing them in his fingers with the inevitable response.  When he was satisfied as to the degree of arousal, he took one of the leather bands from his other hand and secured it around the base of the shaft.  He moved over to Gunn, whose face looked darker than it normally did, and repeated those actions until he was fully erect and bound.  Finally he stepped before Illyria and slipped his fingers between her thighs, stroking gently.

"This is obviously something of a dilemma for you, Blue," he said, his voice husky and low.  "Like Wes and Charlie-boy, you'll need to become conditioned to respond in this way to commands from me or Angel.  It will take time before you don't require assistance, but given enough practice you will soon respond automatically."

He smiled, pulled his fingers away from Illyria's now-dripping slit, and licked them with a lascivious smirk upon his face.

"It will be my pleasure to help all of you with this aspect of your conditioning, until you no longer require it," he said to the group at large.  "You two," he said, directing his comments to the men, "will make sure you are erect with the cockrings in place prior to each training session.  They will remain on throughout the full two hours.  Later, we'll wean you off them, until you no longer require them at all as a part of your training.  Which doesn't mean," he added with a smirk, "that you will never be commanded to wear them."

Wesley's blush deepened.

Finally Spike stepped back, looked them over critically, then clapped his hands.  "Okay, time for some drills."

*   *   *

In the cage room, Angel stood back and inspected his work as critically as Spike currently inspected his students.  The sketch was now done to his satisfaction and was ready for the oil paints.  He didn't bring them out, however.  Instead he set that canvas aside and placed a new one on the easel, this one in portrait format.  He had decided to sketch in all three pictures first, then do the oils all at once as well.  It was going to be a difficult task to get three paintings done in three weeks, but he was determined to make it happen.

It was lucky, though, that the fourth picture was already finished and ready to be hung – he'd painted it himself over a hundred years before, and had kept it close by ever since.  He pulled the framed picture from a slot between a large box and the wall, undid the covering, and set it against the wall, stepping back to stare at the familiar image.

Darla was at its center, seated in a richly covered and gilded French Provincial chair, not unlike the one that waited for Angel even now at the opera house in the desert.  Nast had had the chair custom made for his most favored childe many decades before, and Darla kept it with her when she could, and safely stored when she could not.  He had painted himself almost directly behind her and just to her left, one hand resting upon her shoulder.  Next to him, on his right, but half a step further back, stood William.  Drusilla sat on a small stool set near Darla's feet, at her left, and leaned in against her grandsire's legs, staring out with dreamy eyes.

Angel had stared at this picture many times over the years, remembering the times when he'd been a part of a family; necessary, needed, wanted.  More than a century had passed before he got a sense of that again, albeit this time with his human friends.  It had never filled the hole in his heart for the ones missing, though, especially for William.

Angel sighed and set the painting aside, then moved back to the easel to start the next sketch.  A knock at the door stopped him before he began.

"Come," he called out.

"The weapons are hung and the pets are waiting for your review," Spike said, peering around the now-opened doorway.

"How'd you get the hardware up and the weapons hung so quickly?" Angel asked as they left the cage room and walked down the hallway toward the training room.

"Used it as the practical application piece of the pets' training," Spike replied with a smirk.

"Huh.  Good thinking."

When Angel entered the training room he found all three pets in the at-attention kneeling position within their new pentacle.  As he approached them he glanced around at the weapons on the walls.  Spike had done a good job in planning their layout.  The display looked both elegant and deadly, setting exactly the right tone for a court of Angelus.  However once he reached the pets and moved to stand in front of them, his attention shifted to focus on them entirely.

Wesley's and Gunn's cocks were erect and bound, the tips purple from constricted blood.  And the dangerous aura Illyria always gave out was so beautifully in contrast to her fragile build.  They all looked delicious.  He walked around them, inspecting their posture, then when he reached the front again, called out 'Inspection."

The three stood up and assumed an open stance, fingers laced behind their heads, elbows out to the side and back.  Angel walked slowly around them again, stroking the long muscles along their backs to check for the right degree of tension.  When they quivered tautly, he knew it was correct.

"Kneel," he commanded.

The three dropped back into the at-attention kneeling position and he smiled.  He and Spike had discussed how they would handle the at-ease and at-attention issue, and Angel was pleased to see that he hadn't been able to trick them with his generic command.  But he wasn't really surprised.  Spike was an excellent leader.

Little did he know it, but that would be a prime topic of discussion between Wesley and Gunn later that day, before they went off to bed.  They would both note with amazement how Spike's low English accent and slang disappeared almost completely while he was in command mode.  Wesley could easily picture him now with minions, successfully heading up the territory of the Hellmouth where before he had found the idea almost preposterous.  It was a lesson neither would forget, and no matter how funny and charming the small vampire was, they never underestimated him again.

*   *   *

When their first round of training was complete they took a fifteen minute break, during which the pet's hurriedly returned to their rooms and pulled on light cotton work-out clothes.  Gunn and Wesley took a few minutes longer than Illyria as they had another problem to be dealt with once the cock-rings were removed.  At fifteen minutes past midnight sharp, weapons training commenced.  Angel joined them for this session.  They decided that each session would focus on one single weapon, and that each would discuss how they used it to maximize its inherent strengths.  Each of them excelled in several different weapons and fighting styles, and the objective here was to have each in turn act as the primary instructor so that everyone could eventually gain proficiency with each weapon and style.  Today they focused on the broadsword, and Angel led the session.

Two hours later, sweaty and tired, but in a way that felt wonderful, their muscles fully worked, the second training session ended.  After removing the weapons from the wall and stowing them away in the trunk to preserve the sensibilities of the expected contractors, everyone went off to attack another waiting task; the pets back to their research and Angel back to his art.  Only Spike stayed behind in the training room to complete a project he'd only thought of a few hours ago, in the midst of the pets' first training session.

Three hours later he inspected the D-rings now firmly embedded in two small, recessed circles on the floor at the center of the star, positioned six feet apart.  Directly above the star, suspended from the ceiling, hung two long lengths of sturdy chain.  They ended ten feet above the floor so that they could be easily reached to attach additional shorter lengths of chain yet would not knock anyone in the head while they moved about normally.  Though they weren't intended for it, Spike envisioned that they would be a useful element for weapons training as well, and congratulated himself on a job well-done.

"Making some adjustments to the weapons hardware?"  Angel asked, entering the room unexpectedly.  "You've been drilling in here for hours."

He stretched and flexed his arms, shoulders and hands as he walked, obviously trying to ease the tension from several hours at a task that wasn't at all strenuous, but tended to work a different set of muscles than he normally used in his day-to-day activities.  Those kinks in his muscles always surprised him when he indulged in it after a long abstinence.

"No, just something else I remembered that we'd need," Spike replied with a smirk.

Angel glanced around the room, not seeing anything different.  "What?" he finally asked as he reached his childe's side.

Spike didn't answer, but instead simply pointed down at the floor, then up towards the ceiling.  Angel saw the D-rings and chains and nodded slowly.  "You're right, it would be a mistake not to have them."

Spike nodded in agreement.  "We should have Wesley do a holding spell on them, so they're vampire-proof.  May as well redo the shorter lengths of chains and manacles as well.  Best be prepared," he added.

"Put in on the to-do list," Angel agreed.

He glanced around the room once more, and in his mind Angel already saw the elevated stage with the chair at its center, the heavy black velvet drapery and the shimmering silk banner floating before it, the blood-red gryphon with its A upon it.  On the floor the sacred star would provide power and protection, consecrating his control over the Order.  He pictured the weapons displayed again on the surrounding walls, as though they were still there, and the paintings, exactly as he planned them, finished to perfection.  He imagined sitting in the chair on the Dias, the painting directly across from him at the other end of the room always in his line of sight, making it clear to all who saw it what he valued most.  It would be perfect.