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Lindsey's Angels Pairing: Spike/Xander (eventually, I promise!), Wesley/Angel..the other pairings are yet to be decided. Thanks: Both my fantastic Muses, Saber Shadowkitten and Tisienne Blue. Nancy needs an award for designing my fantastic sites and for all her lovely advice. Also thanks to my two beta readers, Jen and Catherine. thanks to Morgana for all her help as well. Note: In The road to recovery, Tara, Buffy, Anya, Gunn and Giles were killed. Missing are Willow, Doyle, Spike, Xander, Cordelia and the twins. This is the third set of chapters in the Merely a Possession series. The first was Forced to his knees followed by The road to recovery. Three months after the incident in The Magic Box The smashing of glass followed Angel as he strode swiftly from the front lobby and into the kitchen. "You shouldn't insist on doing everything for him Angel. I know you want to but you need to just learn to give him his space." "I know Joyce, but it's just so hard. I'm terrified of losing him." Joyce pushed back her long hair as she rose from the kitchen bench and crossed over to the sink. Dish cloth wet under the running water, she squeezed out the excess, handing the wet rag to the brunette vampire. She smiled dryly as she watched Angel dab at the white liquid that threatened to mar his shirtfront. Poor Wesley. Even after the surgeons had managed to re-attach most of his tongue, the ex-watcher had been left with virtually no taste sensations except the sweet/sour taste buds that ran along the sides of the tongue. He was unable to identify different flavours or if anything was spicy or bland. The man no longer found any joy in eating. Everyone, especially Angel was worried that he was now looking way too thin. Giving Angel’s lower arm a pat, Joyce stood on tiptoes to give the much taller man a peck on the cheek. A faint smile from the usually solemn face and she could tell that he was almost in tears. Ever since the tragedy at The Magic Box, in which everyone had lost loved ones and friends, all had been walking an emotional tightrope. Everyone was displaying the stress and loss in different ways. Angel was often found crying after visiting Wesley. He usually just sat in the hotel and sobbed until he was dry, sometimes it was in one of the numerous corridors, a few times he had sat in the middle of the lobby, forcing everyone to walk around him. The whole ordeal of losing his ex-lover and his best friends as well as witnessing the mutilation of his present lover had hit him hard. The ever-present guilt was overwhelming at times, leading to the tears. Joyce thought that they were all lucky the vampire hadn't walked into the sun as of yet. What had really tipped the older male into his pit of misery was when his lover Wesley had moved out of their shared bedroom once he had been released from hospital. The slight possibility of Wesley coming back to the relationship was what was holding the vampire back from committing suicide. Wesley had gone from being the kind, shy and gentle man they all knew and into an abusive vile tempered man. Everyone was at a loss at how to deal with him. He hid himself away most of the time, refusing to eat with the others and locking himself in his room for day's on end. Angel had been forced to smash down the door to his room on no less than four occasions after pleading with him to come out hadn't worked. Whenever he did come down to the hotel's lobby, he sneered and threw things at anyone who tried to engage him in conversation, rude hand gestures at every opportunity. Angel had started to take high protein hospital drinks to the man in the hopes that if he didn't eat, at least he would get some of his essential vitamins and minerals by consuming the beverage. Unfortunately, Wesley continued to take the drink, swallow a few sips and then throw the remainder over a vampire who was just about at breaking point. The glass smashing into the wall as soon as Angel left his spartan quarters. Something that was happening on a daily basis. Angel rinsed the rag at the sink and finished wiping off the liquid Ensure. He knew that Joyce was right but he just didn't know what to do. The vampire was desperately in love with Wesley and wanted to protect him from the world that had hurt him so badly, but he was frightened for Wes' state of mind. On one of the few times he had tried to manhandle Wes into eating, Angel had almost lost a finger after the ex-watcher had bitten him, latching on and grinding his back teeth as hard as possible. Wes had only let go after Angel had sunk to the ground in tears, the thin man spitting the vampire's blood back at him. It had taken a few weeks for the finger to heal back to normal, the bone had been cracked and chipped, the tendons severed. Shaking the memory out of his foremost thoughts, the brunette vampire grimaced as he heard Riley rifling through the liquor cabinet. It was always Riley. The ex-soldier wasn't even drinking the alcohol he poured, just filling a glass full of scotch and staring at it until he either poured it back into the bottle or Graham did it for him. It was the blonde’s way of coping with his loss. Joyce had been almost inconsolable after finding out that Riley had planned to propose to Buffy after Cordelia and Doyle’s wedding. The revelation had brought the two closer together in an almost mother/son bond, the two leaning on each other. Cloth thrown back into the sink, Angel jumped as he heard the sounds of breaking furniture coming from Wes' quarters. He didn't even want to know what the formally timid man was destroying now. All the most valuable things had been locked down in the boiler room, along with every book on spell casting that Joyce and the two ex-soldiers had been able to rescue after Wes had started ripping into them. Angel had had to restrain the smaller man, cringing at the furious grunts that his lover had been making. Only Angel had the key to the boiler room now. Reaching up into one of the highest cupboards above the double fridge, Angel grappled until his fingers found the odd shaped tin he was after. After checking that no-one was around, listening for nearby heartbeats, the vampire opened the tin of chocolate flavoured milk colouring. Another check that no-one was around, he gently tipped the tin up so that the fine powder slowly revealed a few foil wrapped bundles. Grabbing one out, Angel quickly unwrapped it and picked out two of the grainy grey and white tablets. Popping the pills in his mouth, the vampire chewed down on the acrid large round circles as he managed to put the tin back in the cupboard without gagging. He had a headache and the tablets helped. The brunette chose to ignore the fact that they were horse tranquillisers. He knew that he shouldn't be taking them but he felt so relaxed and calm after one or two of them. It was the only time that he felt untouched by the worries of the world. He knew that no one else would understand, that was why he hid them away. Graham and Riley looked up at the vampire striding through the lobby and up the main stairs. They just nodded when Angel said that he was going to bed. Both men noting the vampires overly shiny eyes. Graham hoped that they would be able to wake the brunette if they got a phone call. On a few occasions, both men had had to shake the vampire awake, slapping him hard eventually throwing water over him until he was fully awake. Neither he or Riley knew if it was some weird type of hibernation thing vampires did in times of stress or something more. Graham wanted to ask someone but with Giles dead and Wesley so aggressive and unco-operative, they had no-one to ask and they didn't want to upset Angel more than was possible. Riley had even gone through some of the ex-watchers books to find out but neither of them had really understood what was written in the texts. Both men were slightly embarrassed to admit that even the English based ones were well beyond them. Angel had been slipping into more frequent intense sleeps over the past few months, Graham just starting to pinpoint whenever the vampire was going to go into one by the brunette’s eyes gleaming unusually. The former second in command, shuffled the cards once more before dealing them out to both himself and the blonde opposite him. Canasta, a card game that Joyce had taught them one day while she tried to go a few hours without crying. It had worked too, she hadn't started crying for four hours. Graham was still coming to terms with the murders and kidnappings himself. Out of them all, he knew that he was the least affected. He hadn't really been friends with any of them apart from Buffy, the Initiative soldier was a loner by choice outside working hours. The native Californian had to admit that he had liked everyone that had been killed and taken by the soldiers, but he acknowledged that it was the fact he hadn't been good friends with them that was giving him the advantage at the moment. He had never really been one for making friends, Riley had persisted until he had found out it was easier to just go along with the tall blonde than it was to come up with numerous excuses for being alone. The things that were stressing him out the most though was the bad dreams of seeing Wesley's tongue getting cut out and the fact that the re-attachment of his finger had been unsuccessful. Actually that was untrue, the re-attachement of his finger along with Riley's had been successful. It was the whole process of discharging from hospital early and then constantly banging and smacking the protective bandages while moving to L.A. that had caused more damage. Eventually both fingers had been rejected by their natural bodies, leading to them being amputated once again. This time under sedation. One small mercy that Graham was thankful for. The person he really felt sorry for the most besides Riley, was Joyce. He had acquired a soft spot for the older woman since they had all been ordered to L.A. The woman had lost her only child, someone that fate had marked for a short enough life anyway. She had also been introduced into the world of murder, bloodshed and kidnappings. Graham found himself often trying to get a laugh out of her by telling her some little joke he had heard around during his time at boot camp. Admittedly they were pretty crude at times but he was thankful for each little staged gasp of horror at the foul language. He admired the way she was holding up with the demands on her. She had sold her art gallery and her house in Sunnydale after finding out she was to accompany the men back to the Hyperion. Why she had been included in the equation was something that was still puzzling them all. No-one knew what Wes' opinion on the matter was, he refused to communicate with anyone except through obscene hand gestures, and after being spat on a few times Graham was more than happy to leave him alone. He really didn't know how Angel was coping with it all. Neither he or Riley were attempting to entertain the idea that the situation might drive Angel back into Angelus again. Cards dealt, Graham knew what was really stressing everybody out was the fact that Cordelia, Doyle, Willow, Spike, Xander and the twins had just vanished into thin air. Things were now no longer about only the former prostitutes but other people as well. Originally, they had all hoped that the women and children would be delivered back to them or at least dropped off somewhere for Angel to pick up, but so far nothing had been heard of them since. The main theories were that Willow and Cordelia might end up as demon consorts due to the fact that they, like Xander, had been born in Sunnydale and were well aware of demons. Xander was probably well underway into working his second tenure as a prostitute, something that made them all sick at the thought of. Angel had thrown around an idea of Doyle being valued for his Seeing abilities and his link to the PTB but since the visions had only helped the brunette vampire in his work for the PTB, they couldn't see how Doyle would be a value for someone else. Spike had been a puzzle as well, especially as he had been separated from Xander, until they had discovered just why he had been taken. Angel had indicated that the blonde vampire would be taking the enforced separation very hard, that was if the chip hadn't totally fried his brain after attacking the imposed threat to Xander. For the first time since the chip had been implanted, Graham and Riley had regretted not doing something to remove it. They both knew that if the chip had been removed, things would have gone a lot differently and could have even helped prevent Anya and Gunn's deaths. Everyone was hoping the twins hadn't ended up as a demon entree or in some sick kiddie porn ring. Graham snapped out of his contemplation as he heard the phone ring, Joyce answering it with a barely chirpy 'Hello, Angel Investigations. We help the helpless'. Ironic that there was no one to help them now when they all needed it. He listened as Joyce took down the details being relayed to her over the phone by their mysterious employer. No one knew who it was but after a show of power, they no longer resisted doing what was demanded of them. Angel had refused point blank at first to do what the caller was asking him to do and the phone hadn't rung for a week afterwards. The ex-soldiers had been scouring the streets and numerous demon bars for any information on demon clientele based brothels, pretending to ask on Angel’s behalf. They had figured if they managed to find Xander again, they would be well on their way to finding the others. Joyce had kept busy by cooking for them all and obsessively cleaning the hotel from the top floor downwards. Angel had also been trying to keep the business afloat as well as cope with a body snatched Wesley. The phone had rung again and once again Angel had refused the demands, screaming abuse down the phone and hanging up. A few minutes later, five slim boxes, beautifully gift wrapped, had appeared out of thin air on the lobby desk, startling everybody. Angel had hesitantly opened one, only to let it drop from his hands and onto the floor. They had been aghast to find that each box contained a slim white digit. Four fingers and one thumb. The brunette vampire had burst into tears in public for the first time since the murders at the Magic Box, scaring everyone intensely. After being asked why he was so upset, he had remained silent for a few minutes before telling everybody in a soft voice that they were Spike's fingers and from the smell of them, they were only minutes fresh. Angel had answered the phone on the first ring and had agreed to the demands without hesitation. That had been almost two and a half months ago and they had complied with each phone call since. They all understood what would happen if they didn't. "Riley, looks like its action time. You want help with waking Angel?" Seeing his friend’s shake of the head, Graham looked at the address of where they were to go this time. Great, right into the heart of demon China town. Angel was definitely needed, he was the only one who spoke a few Chinese dialects and the local demons wouldn't deal with anyone who didn't speak to them in their own language. This was where Wesley was sorely missed. A huge crashing sound from Wes' room and Graham just wanted to get the job over and done with.
***WARNING***
Xander/Scott Lick and suck. Nibble and a swirl of the tongue. Roll the creatures ball sac in one hand while lightly stroking the inner thighs with the other. Easy enough to do. Provided the client actually has balls. Nothing suprises Scott anymore. Not even when a client is classed as male even though it has no testicles. Still flooded him with enough cum to fill an olympic swimming pool. He had been horrified at first to find that there was a trend among demons. The smaller they were, the more cum they shot down his throat or up his arse. Moan and pant. Thrust backwards or forwards depending on the position. Enjoy the feeling of a cock slamming into his prostate providing he wasn't bleeding too much or almost passed out from whatever injuries had been inflicted on him in the name of foreplay. Let the client thrust as many fingers/tenticles/sheathed claws as it can up his back passage until it's almost classed as fisting. Still an action that's on the No-No List. Doesn't stop them from trying to push the envelope at every opportunity though. Thank the client for the new tears in his delicate anus lining. Smile as Randall gives him a new book for being so good. Keep his mind focused on what the client is demanding as he thrusts into Todd, one of the others or heaven forbid, Christopher. Writhe on the floor or bed as if getting beaten with the wide leather belt is his biggest wet dream. Turn his groans of agony into passable whimpers of delight as his limbs are borderline wrenched from their sockets while being fastened to one of the numerous iron rings in the cellar below. Just accept that his afterhours sleeping cubicle has padded walls and that some early evenings his head aches as he wakes up. Stop asking for a nightlight as he should know that he won't be getting one and to keep asking will only result in a private meeting with Adam. Try not to scream each morning when the light goes off in the sleeping dormitory, enveloping him in total darkness. Muffle the ones that do escape his chattering teeth just in case one of the Keepers hears him and someone is randomly picked for punishment because he broke one of the rules. Tell each client that they are his favourite ones. Only throw up when infront of the tiolet and if he doesn't make it, clean up as fast as possible. Ignore the times when his body is too battered and bruised for him to move in the way the client has specifically ordered. Likewise, accept the fact that sometimes, he will find it hard to get into a comfortable position in bed once off duty due to that nights injuries. Don't cry. Remember, just because someone came for him once, doesn't mean they are going to come again. So, stop praying. Better to save his breathe for when he really needs it. Let the Keepers bend him over in a dark corner when they want because it's not worth telling Randall and Adam, he will only find his water has an odd taste and he's thirstier for the next day than he has ever been. Accept that although they are not meant to, they will fuck him. Cleanliness is next to Randall. Adam never turns a blind eye and he will always remember everything. Yes, it is quite possible that he is going mad. If it feels good, embrace it. Remember a happy client is less likely to twist his nuts until they turn black and blue. If he bends in a particular way, a punch to the kidneys wont result in him peeing blood. Eat what he is given for each meal straight away even if he hates it, and then he won't find himself scooping it from the floor. The dirt tastes horrible as does the floorboard wax. Remeber to ask for a drink of water, not just help himself. Take heed of the Keepers. Until Adam or Randall open the club each night, the Keepers rule all. Their whim is his wish. Stop worrying that one day his cock will be ripped off by a demon who is inexperienced with humans. Be proud that he is popular with the regulars at the bar. Be flattered that some demons specifically request him and will only accept him, even if another whore is glamoured into his image. Do try and remember to let go of the demons who show him a little kindness. If they wanted to keep him, they would offer to buy him. Be lucky that he has permission to talk even if not spoken to first. Apparantly his humour is valued as a conversation topic. Get over his revulsion to having sex with Christopher. If the others can do it, then there is no reason why he should have a problem with it. If the boy/man is having fears over an encounter with a demon, then fix it and fast. If Christopher is refusing to co-operate, it's Scotts fault. Christopher is a man not a child, stop the protests and just accept it. Most of all, Smile. December 2, 2004 5.23 pm Joyce was uncomfortable. She felt like she wasn't alone in the hotel. It was creepy. Normally she didn't have a problem being alone on one of the unoccupied floors. But today, something just wasn't quite right. Shivering, she felt a chill race down her spine, maybe Wesley was wandering around the hotel? With a shake of her head, she knew that it was highly unlikely. The young man rarely ventured out of the two rooms he had claimed for himself after moving out of Angels bedroom. He was well on his way to being classed as an anorexic recluse. The mans boyfriend was down at the hospital's out patient clinic at this very moment in an effort to get Wesley some help. Riley had caught the ex-watcher wandering around the first floor by chance and had been horrified to see how much the other man had let himself slip after locking himself away for a few days. Joyce hadn't seen Wes for herself but she too had been aghast to learn that Angel had made an appointment to see someone who dealt with eating disorders after witnessing Wesley's condition himself. Apparantly Angel was worried that his lover may end up having to be hospitalised. A noise behind her snapped her back to the present. "Riley, Graham? Are you there?" "Heellooo?" A moments pause, another shake of the head and Joyce gathered up her bucket of cleaning products. Tiolet duck replaced in the cupboard underneath the bathroom sink, the older woman suddenly gasped as she felt someone walk over her grave. Chastising herself, she reasoned that she was too old to give herself the willies about being alone in the hotel. Nevertheless, she took a look at her handiwork. Graham's bathroom looked nice and clean. Not that it hadn't been before hand. Both ex-soldiers were exceptionally clean and really didn't need Joyce to clean their bathrooms but they had relented when they had seen that it helped Joyce keep occupied. "Look, is that you Wesley? If you would like to have a cup of coffee or tea, I would welcome the break as well?" Her head whirled around to look behind her as she heard a door slamming only a few rooms down the corridor. Might be Riley back already. Maybe he would like a coffee? While Angel was at the hospital, Riley was out doing the grocery shopping for the next week. Where Graham was, Joyce wasn't too sure, probably at the nearby gym. Actually, it was a little early for the tall blond to be back. There had been a huge list to get, Riley and Graham both ate like draft horses. "Aahhhh!" At the giggle behind her, Joyce dropped the bucket and ran from the room, into the corridor. Her heart beating a military tattoo, she was immediatley on edge when she could see no-one else in Graham's room. She had heard someone behind her, she wasn't going crazy. Taking a deep breathe, Joyce slowly let a moan escape. Ok, she was now officially a little scared. All the doors to the hotels rooms in this corridor were closed and when she had gone into clean her friends room, all doors had been open. On shaky legs, she walked as fast as possible to the main stairs. She didn't care about the cleaning products, Graham would bring them down later. All that mattered now was getting somewhere else, her whole body was tingling and it felt like someone or something was stroking the back of her neck. "Hello Mummy!" Oh my god! Joyce froze just as she put her foot down on the first step to the staircase. Standing as still as she could, the older woman was torn between flinging herself down the stairs and turning around to see what was making the rustling noises behind her. "Poor Mummy, her world is confused" "W.who are you?" Uttering a small scream as she felt cool hands slide onto her shoulders, she screwed her eyes shut. Not wanting to see who was behind her, Joyce kept squeaking as she was turned around. "I've come to talk with you and Daddy and the nasty Slayers boy and the one who grinds the bread. The other one doesn't want to talk with me. He doesn't want to have tea with anyone. Poor boy, Daddy's so sad. He needs lots of cake" Heart beating almost out of control, Joyce knew full well who had her in a firm cool grip. It could only be one person, well vampire actually. Drusilla. The very vampire Spike had worshipped for so long. A well known insane and dangerous vampire. Joyce wasn't ashamed to admit that was just about to piss herself. What she did next, shocked herself to her very core. Eyes snapped open, she looked straight into the beautiful pale face and poked Drusilla hard in the chest with a pointed finger. "My daughter was *not* nasty. As far as you should be concerned, she was a worthy opponent and should be respected as such" A second later, Joyce covered her mouth and wondered if she screamed, would Wesley even come to see why? She couldn't believe that she had just done such a stupid thing. Stupid but no-one had the right to talk about Buffy that way. Of course what she had just done could very be the last stupid thing she ever did. She had heard more than enough stories about Drusilla to know that the vampire was unpredictable and that even her Sire Angel was barely able to keep up with her. During one of Spikes more lucid but drunken ramblings over a hot chocolate, she had ventured to ask more about vampire relations and had been throughly confused about them but she did know that Angel had made both Drusilla and Spike as well as one other. "The Prince is happy but the beans are tasty. The tree is without its leaves and is all alone, eternal winter is abounding" "What?" "The red, white and blue is no longer a colour green and earths clumps of clay are with their mother. Do you have cake for Miss Edith and my friends?" Speechless, Joyce had no idea of what had just been said but she nodded at the vampire who was now in the middle of the corridor. Drusilla had wandered off after her last confusing sentence and was currently spinning around with arms out stretched as fast as she could. Spike had told her one time that the trick to handling Drusilla was to just treat everything like either a game or a tea party. The idea of the continually rude bleached blond sitting down to Earl Grey while pretending to have a tea party made her giggle a little. "Careful, you'll hurt yourself!" Unable to help herself, the older human rushed to help Drusilla as she was finally dizzy enough to tumble to the floor. Catching the vampire just as she hit the red carpet, Joyce hoped that her action wouldn't tempt Drusilla to bite. "Mummy! You saved me from the flowing river. Pretty like like the Chosen Ones hair" With one arm wrapped around the vampires waist, she suspected that whatever Drusilla had said was meant as a compliment to Buffy and probably the only one Joyce would ever hear. Once the dark haired woman was steady again on her feet, the human woman hesitated for only a moment before leading the vampire down the main stairs. What was the harm in taking her to the kitchen for a cup of tea? If Drusilla was going to kill her, she would be able to do it in a few seconds anyway. They might as well have a coffee or tea until that happened. "Drusilla, why are you calling me Mummy?" "The stars went away and for a long time I was sad. The birds all flew away and the earth was shrivelled up" "Right" She was confused. No wonder Angels jaw clenched whenever her name was mentioned. Actually that wasn't fair, his jaw clenched at Spikes name as well. There was only one thing to do, call everybody back to the hotel. December 2, 2004 7.13 pm "And then the stars shifted so that they wouldn't speak to me anymore. Whispers, whispers...all gone! The saucer of milk was covered by sorrow and wept until little pearls of scarlet flowed like the river." "Would Miss Edith like another scone? A bit more jam or cream?" "Meow!" Exchanging a glance, Riley and Graham knew that words just couldn't describe what was happening. Here they were, sitting at the kitchen table eating scones and jam with an insane vampire. One that was on all fours, licking cream out of a saucer on the floor. Oddly enough it wasn't the strangest thing they had ever seen. Riley settled back into his seat as he watched Joyce try and get Drusilla up off the floor and to sit at the table again. "Um, how about you sit at the table? I'm sure Angel won't be too long." "Daddy? He doesn't like cats. My Spike did, he always let me play. Daddy didn't. Cats are pretty, am I pretty? I was Spikes Princess." With that, she got up and crossed over to stand in front of one of the two men who were obediently eating the numerous scones. Graham couldn't stop himself from shrinking away from the pale creature in front of him. He had faced so many scarier looking beasts. Ones with multiple arms, fangs where he was sure it was anatomically incorrect. Even ones that paralysed its prey before slowly dissolving the captured food with urine, then eating it. Sure, everyone in his unit, including Riley, had thrown up at That, but they had still gone out and faced it down. But this, this woman was seriously freaking him out. At the vampire’s question, he had arched an eyebrow at Joyce before realising that Drusilla wanted an answer. From him. "Ahhh...um. Yes?" "I'm not to be yours. Another has already been chosen for you." Barely able to suppress a shudder when his arm was lightly touched by cool fingers, the ex-soldier just had to ask the most appropriate question. "What? Who?" At the spluttered question, the dark haired vampire grew excited, clapping her hands and exclaiming that the man who put the 'ouchy' into Spike was really clever. Not surprisingly, everyone doubled their efforts into wishing Angel home as soon as possible. Graham’s blonde friend snickered at the look of complete confusion that was firmly plastered on the burly ex-soldiers face. The snicker was quickly suppressed as he was growled at, two fingers jabbed towards him at eye level. In an instant, one of the stakes that had been lying next to the jar of jam was being held firmly in Riley’s grip. The ex-soldier waved the sharpened wood suggestively at a vampire giving him a coy look. "Miss Edith! She says you don't deserve any of the apples that pine for the sun...ohhhhh..Spike!" Sinking to the ground, head held, Drusilla started to moan and wail. Riley and Graham were sitting at the table, unsure of what to do. Taking pity on the obviously distressed female, Joyce ventured from her chair only to stop in her tracks as all the noise suddenly stopped. The vampire was quiet, her face covered by her hands. Slowly, as the human woman took a tentative step forward, Drusilla removed her hands from her face. For the first time that night, all three humans could see that she was looking somewhat sane. "He's hurting my Spike. I can hear him screaming for someone to help him. He prefers the white rooms. Little pieces of him are saying goodbye. Pain. His head hurts but he likes it. Shhhh, don't worry Spikey. Daddy and the one who doesn't like cake will find you." "Drusilla, where is Spike? Is he still ah,..alive?" "Cutting, cutting. Slicing and sharp things. So slowly the pieces are bright and shiny again. Silver gleaming under the sun. Hurting and crying like a kitten. Spikey doesn't cry, he never cries. Daddy cries because he is so sad but Spike is in pain and alone until the man comes again." Horrified at what was being said, Riley and Graham shuddered as one at the thought of what would get the obnoxious blonde vampire to cry. Drusilla was right, Spike was as tough as it got. The only one tougher was Angel. It was looking like even vampires had their breaking points, something both soldiers had thought impossible when working in the Initiative. "Daddy!" "Dru?" Standing in the doorway to the kitchen, Angel had been able to sense his second Childe in the building as soon as he had pulled into the car park. He had been worried about just how much chaos his nutty girl had caused once she had seen he wasn't at home. The older vampire had run inside as fast as possible, heading straight to the kitchen from where her scent was the strongest. What he had found was beyond description. Joyce was kneeling on the floor next to Drusilla, arm around the pale shoulders. His Childe just leaning into the other woman, humming a tune that only she knew. Riley and Graham were sitting opposite each other at the table, a plate of half finished scones in front of each one. Both with expressions of utter confusion. Just a normal Drusilla tea party. "Drusilla, you bite anyone under my protection and you’re ash. Not dust, ash because I'm going to fucking well set you on fire if you so much as give a hint of biting." "But Angel...Daddy." "Angel, she knows Spike is in pain and I'm pretty sure she gabbled something regarding the others earlier on this evening." Just able to keep his feet as the light headedness struck, Angel stared at Joyce. Of course, if anyone would know where Spike and the others were, it would be his Childe. Just where the hell had she been four months ago when the shit had first hit the fan? "Has she been talking about the stars and what they tell her at all?" Hope rose for the first time for Angel in what had been weeks. If it was possible to decipher just what his Drusilla had been waffling about, then they might be able to get a lead on one of the missing friends. Unfortunately, Spike was the only one who could really understand what she was on about. He could usually tell the difference between random ramblings and future predictions, something that was really needed at the moment. With one eye on Drusilla, he told everyone to be quiet and to stay where they were. "Dru, where is Spike?" "Oh Daddy! Don't worry, the song of London Bridge will surround you again." Jaw clenched, Angel knew he was just about to snap. He had never understood a quarter of what Drusilla ever prattled about and from the identical looks of bewilderment on the three humans sitting at the kitchen table, he knew that he wasn't alone. Ignoring the vampire for a moment, he asked Joyce to write down all she could remember of what Drusilla had said so far. Joyce nodded, silently berating herself for not thinking of it sooner. Spike had told the human that most of the trouble he had gotten into was from not taking his lovers words seriously. Apparently after being almost staked and burnt a few times, he had learned to take more notice of whatever Drusilla was saying. "Sooo. What have the stars been saying? Is the moon still smiling?" Twirling around the kitchen a few times, the pale woman paused to hiss at Riley, blow a kiss to Graham and then call Joyce 'mummy' again. Temple rubbed with a large hand, Angel could almost count the seconds until he would be forced to vamp out at his odd Childe in order to get her to concentrate as much as she was able to. "Why are you calling Joyce Mummy?" "Because you’re my Daddy and she lives with you." "The stars went away, drops of pearls filled with cinnamon fell from the sky. They wouldn't talk to me for so long, I cried but then the pretty ones came. All shiny like the sun but filled with the moon." "Ah!" Silence descended upon the kitchen. Little sounds of annoyance were heard as Joyce continually huffed and puffed as she tried to remember the exact words that Drusilla had spoken. The pale woman came to sudden halt, her spinning stopping and looked directly over Riley's shoulder, a shy smile on her face. "Angel, my friends are here." "What, Where....Who?" Four heads arched around the brightly lit room in all directions, each coming to the same conclusion. No one else was there bar them. With a shrug, both Riley and Graham shot confused looks at the older vampire. The ex-soldiers tensed as the insane vampiress came and sat beside Graham at the kitchen table, Angel giving his Childe a warning growl as she ran a finger down the smaller soldiers neck. Managing not to flinch too much, Graham stayed where he was, taking the same precautions one would when around a large wild feline. Don't make eye contact and no sudden movements. He had heard some horrific stories about the woman’s hobby in poking out her victims eyes with her fingernails and he really didn't want to give her any reason to even associate the hobby with him. Unfortunately, she had already poked at Riley twice that night and from the look on Riley’s face, he had heard the same stories. "Mummy, the sound will flow through you. London Bridge will be heard again. Legacy of the Tower will ring true and be forged by two. The green from the Isle of Erin was lost and will never again appear nor the red of the blue. The Sight was saved but is lost in the fields of memory. The twins of darkness are to reside in the halls of the ones who seek." Eyes closed and hands fluttering, the dark haired woman started to pant as she concentrated relaying what was being whispered in her ear by one of her friends. She could sense the growing annoyance of her Sire and desperately wished her Spike was there to reassure her and hold her until she had said all that was required. "The star that is yet to be born is a mummy, the twins of darkness with her. Water surrounds them, ice flowing into the winter sea. The lonely tree is soon to be happy, love surrounding her after the endless winter, her leaves of red flowing like a river. Meow. Daddy? The man who isn't will wander the pretty river again, joy radiating from him for all eternity." A thin trickle of blood made its way down the pretty chin from the delicate nose. With a growl, she warned her Sire from interrupting her. "The one with no voice will speak of mighty things to come, his voice shall echo through these hallways soon. The Millers son shall be companion to the advocate until they both wither with love, her champion. A golden man once entangled with fates Chosen will offer sanctuary to all who are in need, refuge from all dimensions apart from this earth’s planes. His heart needed to be broken so that compassion would temper the desire to only see two colours, a path already started but yet to be finished." Angel couldn't help but fang out at the sight of his second Childe bleeding. This was a huge effort for the woman and he was astounded by the words. Drusilla was telling the fates for everyone that had been at the Magic Box, it was so important that he did believe that Drusilla was being helped by her 'friends'. There was no way she could predict so many things in such a short time, she was talented with future predictions but this was beyond her talents; she had to be having outside help in keeping focused. He just hoped that it wouldn't stress her out too much, it would be hell trying to keep her in control for the time she would need to recover from the visions. "The prince will be comforted and protected for all time by one who has fallen from the mighty but shall receive his redemption through these actions, the Twilight ruling all and keeping the prince from any other harm. The soul of blood will return, bringing chaos and ruin to all it touches. This cannot be allowed to happen. The sight and voice will find the path to deny the wolf. The echoes of ones mind is where the prince can be found, just follow the whispering corridors. The displaced ones will be taken by the brothers of Christ, into the arms of protection. Fear not, harm will not come to them again if they go by choice." Joyce was writing furiously, now knowing just why both Angel and Spike had been fascinated by this woman. She just hoped that she was getting everything down correctly, just one misplaced word had the potential to stuff everything up. A glance at both Riley and Graham and she was relieved to see that they also were writing the vampire's words down, both having gotten extra pens from on top of the fridge as soon as the words had started to make a little sense. The vampiress' quiet panting was all that could be heard. Making a move, Angel stepped towards his exhausted Childe. Sure that she had finished all she had to say. Two steps forward, he was thrown backwards as a flare of heat flowed from her body. Riley and Graham scrambled as fast as they could from the intense heat, Joyce following them into the corner by the fridge, all three trying to shelter behind a stunned Angel. In awe, they watched her stand, her whole being glowing with a silvery golden light. "This is your war Angel." "W...what?" "The final battle for your redemption. Do not fail, you will not get a second chance and hell will be taking you back. Soul and all. Your legacy shall be bred from the missing. Fail in your mission and there shall be none to replace you should you fall. Many will be denied their full achievements should that occur. The fate of millions rest on the outcome to this war. Do you understand?" "Yes." "Do not mourn the passing of this one. She has achieved her redemption for acting as our vessel. Do not feel guilty for creating her in your image, she was pre-destined since before time for the sole purpose of letting us speak to you once again. The one you hate so much was also pre-destined to be born as soulless. Be warned, if he should regain his soul, Angelus will be insignificant to what will occur if he should be loosened upon the world." Angel stared up at the gentle expression on Drusilla's face, the kitchen bathed in gentle glowing gold. If he didn't know better, he would think she was one of the saints he had read about while a human. She was beautiful and serene, the very presence of calm surrounding her. The intense heat rolling off her was the only give away that it wasn't God speaking through her. "Who are you?" "We are the Oracles. Good luck Angelus, we wish you well. The fate of the world rests upon your shoulders. Try not to let it crush you." The heat radiating off the dark haired woman grew in intensity until the others could see the richly embroidered clothing starting to smoulder, as one, they started towards the heated vampire with the intention of cooling her down. A deafening bang and a painful wave heat rolled through the kitchen, all screaming at the intensity and shielding their eyes from the glare coming off the insane vampire. Seconds later, the kitchen was cooling down as the painful light subsided. All were speechless as they stared at the pile of ashes spread over the kitchen floor, roughly where Drusilla had been standing.
***WARNING*** Sniff... SNIFF... Breathe out. Sniff.... Breathe out. Bide his time until he has company again. No need to breathe, he's technically dead. Bored but he's thankful for that small emotion, so much more different from the usual silver smoothness of the scalpel. Thin fine needles of pain prick at every nerve in his body as he shifts on the cool table. The restraints holding him spread eagled on his back are so familiar to him now, he would miss them if they were gone. Sniff... Breathe out. Sniff... Breathe out. His left hand itches, the stumps where his fingers used to be reminding him how lucky he was that only his slim digits were cut off that time. He's heard about this, the sensation of missing limbs still making themselves known. Phantom limbs. Occasionally he can feel his fingers ghosting over the edge of the metal table. Sniff... Breathe out. He knows rationally that his fingers are gone and although with his vampire healing, that they will eventually grow back, he hopes that they are gone for good. If they don't grow back, then they won't get cut off again but if they don't, The Man will cut something else off. Damned if they do, damned if they don't. Sniff... Breathe out. The fact that they are growing back so slowly isn't really the issue. How long has passed since he woke up here? In the white room, surrounded by bright gleaming trolleys holding sharp things he can't see until The Man holds them up. Sniff... Breathe out. Never in his whole unlife has he ever thought of the Initiative as merciful until now. He thanks them with his whole being that they put the chip into his head, its not so cursed after all. Angling his head just so, he can see the steady drip of red flowing into the slim tube inserted in the crook of his right elbow. Sniff... Breathe out. Human blood. A healing accelerator. The more blood, the faster he heals. All the better for The Man for when he wants another slice of vampire. A toe, half a thigh, a testicle. Kidney, liver, few inches of intestines, right foot. Doesn't need them to have an unlife. Sniff... Breathe out. Where does it all go? Funny thing, vampirism. Bits that go missing of a vamp don't dust until the vampire gets dusted. He hadn't known that until The Man explained it to him. He's cut plenty of things off humans and other demons but never off a fellow vampire. Sniff... Breathe out. His stomach hurts. He managed to raise his head enough to see why once but he got scared at the sight and he hasn't looked since. The small beams of light gleaming off the surgical clamps imbedded over his body are annoying. Another small thing he is thankful for, something to show himself that he isn't so lost after all. Sniff... Breathe out. Is his Sire coming for him? He wishes Buffy would walk through the door and help him, actually, anybody. Sniff... Breathe out. A footstep..another...and another. Someone coming towards the door, just outside his room. Sniff..sniff.. Shaky breathe out. Please go away...don't come in, he begs silently. The continual tears flowing faster, staining everything they touch, bright red. Saving his words for when they are really needed, soon now. No matter how much he cries and begs for the pain to go away, he knows that it won't stop until The Man has gotten all that he wants. Sniff..sniff..sniff... B.bre..athe o.out. A small whine echoes around the completely sound proofed room, the bright overhead lights throwing their golden gleam off the smooth walls. The only darkness he has been allowed is the one he makes himself. Beep, bop..buzzz..ping! The door to his room opens, the scent of rosemary and thyme flooding into the small space, overwhelming the vampire. How can so much pain be announced by such simple scents? Pant, "I'm going to fucking kill you, you prick!" Pant Eyes closed, the vampire waits for the chips input to his words, grimacing as he rides out pain that he can now almost ignore. Four wet sploshes announce to the vampire that something bigger than his foot is going to come off this time, maybe even a metre of intestine and a slice of liver? Might even be his whole penis this time? The more blood packets, the bigger the missing bit. Whine..pant "Cunt, I'm gonna stick a spike up your arse and then I'm gonna turn it round while its still up you, your gonna be squealing like the fucker you are." groan...pant The light touches on his abdomen tell him that indeed, he is going to be missing an organ sometime soon. A few jerks to the IV drip stuck in the crook of his elbow and he knows that his blood supply has been changed and sped up. His tears flowing non-stop. He was going to have to get on with it. Pant...sob "I'm gonna peel the outer layers of your skin off, dip you in fucking battery acid and piss myself laughing while you slowly dissolve. I'm gonna give you a fucking Deepheat enema..." The pain in his head was increasing, any minute now...just a few more words and he would be out like a light...just a few more, let the chip do its magic. Sob..sob "Ahhh...ugg..Cheese grater to your testicles....Ohhh! Please don't...CUNT!! I'M GOING TO STICK BARBED WIRE...AHHHH...DOWNNNNahhhhhh..." Spike lets the pain in his head take him on a field trip, the smell of burning flesh ignored. The tears ceasing for a few minutes. Darkness, so welcome. Silence, The freedom of no pain. December 5, 2004 Hyperion 3.25pm With light touches, he gently ran his fingers down his stubbled cheeks. The shadowed hollows of his face looked strange in the mirror. A turn of his face and he saw the beginnings of a patchy beard, the soft coloured hair reflecting the bright light of the naked bulb in the bathroom. Tongue poked out, Wesley snickered as he poked at the almost seamless scar running the width of his shortened organ. To reattach the tongue, the surgeons had been forced to trim off a few millimetres of 'distressed tissue' before even starting the surgery. Distressed tissue. He loved that saying. Just misprouncing it, caused anyone in hearing distance to shudder. No matter how hard Angel tried to reasure Wesley that he was still desirable, Wesley knew better. He was no longer unscarred in the vampires eyes, he was now less than perfect. Someone other than his lover had caused him physical pain. Mouth closed, Wesley's hands continued their journey downwards, tracing the prominant ribs. Cut and nicked fingers contoured over the many bruises. He was ugly, he used to be pretty. He didn't want Angel to look at him, didn't want to see the horror in the dark eyes each time the vampire looked at him. "Dithtrethed tithue." "Angthul..Wethley" A short barked laugh rang through the white tiled room. He was useless. He could no longer speak English properly, what use was he now? How could he help his lover in saving the helpless? Wesley used to be able to speak seven human languages and four demon ones, not counting the ones he knew enough to get by with. To count those would make it almost thirty languages, dead and living. Shivering, the painfully thin man slowly made his way over to the pile of bedclothes laying in the middle of his room. Once he had negotiated the numerous clumps of torn mattress and bedsprings, he let himself collapse from the sheer effort of moving. He ignored the protesting ribs that took all of his bony weight just like he took no notice of the continual growling of his stomach. Ignore it and it would go away, it always did. "Leth the Sthringths Ethernal be thut out...ahhhh." Let the Springs Eternal be shut out. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn't prounance the words properly. Always that stupid scar tissue not allowing his tongue to form the words correctly. What he wouldn't give for a stutter. A flash of jealously flowed over him as he thought back to the vile stutter Xander had, at least he would be able to pronounce words. His better than average magic skills were now null and void, the craft demanded ten perfect fingers, intricately pronounced words and anal retentive timing. He wasn't even able to train someone in the craft now, he was useless. Tight smile across his features, he replayed the defining moment of his relationship with Angel in his mind. The moment when Angel had finally kissed him with passion after he had been released from hospital. The moment when Wesley had timidly opened his mouth, allowing the older vampire to slip his cooler tongue into the humans warm mouth. Angel had stroked the newly made scar with his tongue, only to pull away almost instantly. Revulsion mixed with horror and pity had fleeted across the brunettes face, an apology following a second later, the vampire's hand absently wiping at his mouth as if trying to rub the taste of his lover from his lips. Wesley had felt his heart clench, the crumbled walls to his once off limits feelings slammed back up with double reinforcment. The brunette didn't even know what he was apologising for, so used to saying sorry for everything. He knew when he was just somethig to pity and he didn't want it. Not from Angel and certainly not from anyone else. "Hateth you Angthel." Bedcovers pulled around his violently trembling body, Wesley giggled into the soiled linen as he thought of the vampire sitting at his desk, brooding as usual. He had already had his daily visit from the brunette, complimentary drink offered as usual. Why didn't the arsehole just leave him alone? Why did he continue to rub Wesley's nose into the knowledge that he was no longer desirable? "Uthleth." It wasn't love that drove the vampire to keep visiting the displaced Watcher, Wesley knew that. It was the ever present guilt. Even the whole staged show of tears after Wesley had bitten the other man had been caused by guilt. Why wasn't Angel being strong like he always was? What gave Angel the right to cry? How dare Angel think he had normal human feelings, how dare the brunette show emotion. Angel was a vampire and he was supposed to be strong. What gave him the right to fall to his knees infront of Wesley and beg his forgiveness? Useless bastard was supposed to be out there in the night wreaking revenge for all the tragedy that happened at the Magic Box but where was he, floating around the Hyperion. Cloaked in a cloud of guilt and sobbing like the human he wasn't. If Angel really loved him like he kept saying, he would be the strong one. "Hateth you. Weakth Basthard." A giggle and Wesley realised that Angel and he had something in common. They were both now officially useless. "Uthleth." "Uthleth." "Uthleth." December 5, 2004 Somewhere 3.25pm A strand of hair pushed back from her flushed face, Cordelia pushed herself to keep stirring the boiling water. God, what she wouldn't give for a washing machine but for that, she would need electricity. Civilisation was what she really craved, that and Doyle. She wanted out...now. Stifling a groan at hearing one of the twins start howling in hunger, the tired woman wondered just what type of cosmic beings had decided upon playing this joke on her. How on earth did she get trapped in another country with two lactose intolerant children? She would never in her wildest dreams have thought children could be allergic to yak's milk but apparently they could be. Thank god for one of the other human women that her Master owned. As sad as it had been for Kimlai to lose her child, it was only through the other woman allowing the twins to feed from her left over breast milk that had kept the two girls from starving to death. Cordelia gave a weary smile to the smaller woman gathering up Aiesha, Gonturan still asleep thankfully. Large pot given one last stir, the would be actress picked up another long stick and flipped out one of the faded cloths that passed for nappies. Hands held over the rising steam from the wet bundle as it lay on the drying stone, she rubbed her fingers, trying to get the blood circulating. She was terrified that one day she would wake up with one of her fingers frozen so much that she would have to have it cut off, the same fears for her toes. When she had been younger, she had loved to visit the trendiest ski resorts each winter but after spending so much time in the oppressive snow, she almost jumped for joy at each ray of sunshine that appeared each day. She truly never wanted to see snow again, however, she rose each day knowing that the first thing she would see each day was a pure white expanse as soon as she opened the tent flaps. Sighing, she flipped out the remaining clothes in the large clay pot and added the next lot. Who would have thought that her life would take such a twist? After being ordered out of the Magic Box, she had been bundled into a van with both twins, accompanied by one of the black clad men. The journey had taken hours, only stopping to allow her to change the twins and feed them some formula. Where the nappies and formula had come from, she hadn't asked, still fearing that one of the twins would be killed. She had eventually fallen asleep after the twins had been taken by the man, the sight of one of the murderers bouncing a gurgling girl on his knee had been unsettling not to say the least but she had been overwhelmed with tiredness anyway, eventually succumbing to the lure. Cordelia really didn't know how long or how far she had travelled but once they had stopped, she had been taken out of the van, twins in her arms again. She had ignored the heaviness of them, instead trying to take notice of any little things she could for future reference for when Angel found her. Angel would find her, she knew that. She had been stunned to find herself in the middle of nowhere, trees surrounding her. The van had driven off, leaving her with the one black clad man firmly holding onto her upper arm. It was then that Cordelia had allowed the tears to flow, she had been sure she was about to be executed along with the two little girls. What had surprised her though was when three more vans had pulled up alongside them. The tears had given way to fury, the woman screaming that she wouldn't be separated from the girls. The four men from the vans had been amused on the whole, the two foreign looking women had been more shocked. Standing in the quiet forest, she had been poked and prodded at before each child had been similarly examined. Fear had crept its way from her toes to her scalp, tingling over each nerve. She had had a fair idea of what the examination was for and she hadn't been wrong. Cordelia had ended up being sold to one of the women after she had kicked the man holding her in the groin as he had tried to pry the twins from her. The one who had bought her had laughed, smiling at her while adding an extra bundle of cash to the huge stack in the suited mans hand, gesturing wildly at her. Cordelia hadn't know the gestures were a spell. If she had, she would have tried to run but then again, she might have ended up with a really lousy Master and not the kind one she had. A great ball of light had transported her and the twins to...somewhere. Where, she really wasn't too sure. She wasn't even sure of how much time had passed since the Magic Box incident. The brunette had tried keep a record of the days via scratches on a pot but after it had gotten broken, she just let it fall by the wayside. Seeing the steam had diminished on some of the cloths, she ignored the heat and started to wring out the excess water from her chosen bundle. Where she had ended up was still a mystery. She was sure that she was still in her original dimension as she could pick out a few words of English from the language spoken by her Master and his family. Nepal was where she had ended up, she was sure of that. It had to be Nepal, there were yaks and all the other humans looked slightly Chinese. She was the only white human female although she had seen a few other Caucasian men in some of the other camps her Master had stopped at over the days. Aeisha and Gonturan were most certainly the first dark-skinned humans her Master had seen, everyone had oooed and ahhhed over them, the girls giggling at the attention. From what she had gathered from Kimlai, her Master thought that Cordelia was the twins birth mother and it was something that the brunette woman wasn't in a hurry to clear up, unsure of how her standing in the camp would be affected if she told the truth. She had been horribly humiliated to gesture to the other women the lie that her breast milk had dried up, cringing at the sympathetic pattings from her Master's family. So far, she had been treated fairly well and apart from the hard manual labour that was expected of her, it really wasn't a hardship. At night, she couldn't help but dream of Doyle, hoping that everything was all right with her fiancée. Bundle thoroughly squeezed, Cordelia grimaced as she thought of how much her body had toned up with all the heavy work. She was sure she could probably arm wrestle Doyle and win, even with his half demon strength. A tear slipping from her eye, she hastily wiped at it, not letting her emotions distract her from her allotted work. A dark shadow fell over her, the brunette jerking her head up to smile at her Master. Every day, the tall shaggy creature visited the twins, growling his laughter as he tickled and played with the happy girls. Could be worse she thought, he could have raped her by now. She could be pregnant with a half beast. He could have cooked and eaten the twins or worse yet, eaten them while they were still alive. Stomach churning at the thought, she put a smaller pot on the fire to prepare a cup of the pungent tea the demon favoured. A handful of herbs added to the cool water, she watched as Aeisha crawled towards the demon. He looked rather like a yeti, whatever they really looked like. All the photos Cordelia had ever seen had been badly reproduced ones in various school textbooks and in museums. Upon seeing who she had been sold to, she had been doubly sure she was in Tibet or one of the surrounding countries. If she could find a Buddhist Monk, then she was sure she would be able to find her way to an American Consulate. Every Monk knew who Richard Gere was, so surely they would help out a fellow American? Why had the demon wanted the twins? That was one of the questions that rattled around her mind on a daily basis, she was hoping that the demon wasn't looking to mate one of the twins with one of its own children. The thought that they could do worse really wasn't a comforting idea. At the sound of her name, she turned her attention to her Master. Sitting next to the red haired demon, she nodded and smiled as she listened to whatever it was saying. They both knew that she couldn't understand it but that fact didn't stop her Master trying to have a conversation with her. They were going to be moving camp in the morning. At least that was what she thought they would be doing if she had translated the grunts, growls and hand gestures correctly. With a nod, she moved from the demons side to pour the boiling tea. Moving wasn't new, they moved about every two weeks. She really hoped that Wesley was working on a location spell. December 6, 2004 3.36 pm Business was not going as expected. Teeth clenched, Randall sat at his desk. He was fuming over the latest monthly report and what he was reading was horrifying. Sanity was supposed to be a success. The figures were proving him wrong. It was making nowhere near the estimated profits. The profit at the end of each day barely paid for the overheads, let alone his debt to Wolfram and Hart. Sanity had been open for four months now, and even though the word was out on the street, it wasn't proving popular with the local demons. Randall suspected that if he didn't do something soon, he wouldn't be on speaking terms with Wolfram and Hart for much longer. Something to be avoided at all costs. He knew what was wrong. There was great bar service, drinks and an assortment of nibblies for almost every type of demon. The music was changed often so that there were songs and instrumental pieces to suit everyone. His whores were working their arses off, just like they were trained to do. The new demon whores were working out well, they were all employed voluntarily, reducing the 'care' costs. Unfortunately, the demon clients were not employing them for their hired services. The demon prostitutes were basically sitting around drinking and not really doing much else, while his human whores might as well not even move from their service rooms - they were in there 90% of the time anyway. Getting up, the bar manager walked over to his personal stash of single malt whiskey, the disappointing figures thrown to one side of the desktop. Pouring himself a large glass, his forehead furrowed as he slipped once again into deep thought. He knew what the problem was. It was one that both himself and Lindsey failed to take into account. Demons didn't want to sit down after a hard day with a drink - well, some did but most didn't. They wanted to slaughter something - the more blood, the better. If they got one of their own bones broken in the process of 'unwinding' after a hard day, then it was just put down as a minor detail. Hardly a night or day went by without some type of brawl erupting between the various species that visited the bar. Word was passed around by both offending parties, each 'victim' telling their relatives and friends not to visit Sanity as their enemy loitered there. Needless to say, whole clans of demons suddenly stopped coming in, business slowing even more. If it wasn't for the human whores he had reclaimed, Randall knew that Sanity wouldn't have even lasted as long as it already had. That, and the fact that he had employed the demon prostitutes on a commission basis. The running costs had finally killed him. The extra cost of hiring keepers/bodyguards/bouncers to protect the human whores was ridiculous, but he wasn't about to risk another kidnap attempt. He was tapped dry and Lindsey had already talked to him about his mounting debt to the law firm, indicating that the lawyer himself had also been talked to by his superiors. Sanity was going to have to close. Randall was going to have to cut his losses, swallow his pride and figure out how to stay in the land of the living. He was clever and he had an idea. His human whores had proved to be the only saving grace in the whole debacle. The former brothel owner had been repeatedly approached by various demons asking if they could purchase a certain boy, Randall feeling full of pride but saying no. Well, he wasn't going to say no now, and as much as he was fond of his boys, they were about to take a ride with which ever demon paid the most for them. He was going to approach Lindsey with his idea the next day, he just wasn't too sure of how to pitch it to the lawyer. It wasn't every day you decided to become a demon consort trainer. Some of the sums of money offered for Scott, Andrew and even the red-haired Patrick, had been astronomical. When some of the more persistent clients had finally realised that Randall wasn't going to give in, the Sanity manager had been asked if he would be able to train a consort if the demon provided one. Another offer that Randall had refused. With a sigh, the older man knew he was going to have to negotiate a cheaper rate for youths from the Hellmouth. There was no way he was going to pay the usual going rate if he was going to be buying bulk stock. He wanted a discount. Randall wondered if he should also enquire about a discounted rate for youths not from Sunnydale, after all, couldn't hurt to ask... He had almost drowned this time, but like always, he was going to swim. December 6, 2004 3.36 pm A stumbled step forward, the lone figure wove a drunken path through the grass. Arms held out in front of him, Doyle tried to steer himself straight without tripping, vainly trying to feel an obstacle before bumping into it. Minutes later, he was lying on his side, exhausted. Frustrated and hungry, he swore for what was possibly the hundredth time that hour. With his hands tearing clumps of brittle grass from the cool ground, he let himself have a moment of self pity. The Irishman had earned just a moment's worth and damn it all, he was going to indulge. He had a fair idea that he was in the country, he was bumping into trees almost constantly. The half demon's upper body and face was covered in scratches and welts from stumbling into bushes and falling over. Doyle was frightened that he would die, alone and without anyone knowing what had happened to him. He was worried about Cordelia's fate but was certain she was already back with Angel. His employer was looking for him right that instant. Wesley was probably stuffing around with his spells and vile smelling concoctions, all the better to find him with. Comforted by this thought, the dark-haired man struggled to his feet, allowing himself to sway for a moment before pressing forward. Surely there must be a farmstead or house close by? Knowing his luck, he would be set upon by a farmers rabid dog before he even opened his mouth to ask for help if he happened to stumble across a farm. Arms reached out again, Doyle slowly put a foot forward, one at a time. Following the ground's natural swellings and dips, the dark haired man continued his journey. The dry grass crunching under his feet, Doyle shrieked in both fright and pain as he smacked his stiff fingers against a very solid tree trunk. With his temper finally at the end of its tether, the smaller man kicked forward, grunting in satisfaction as his foot connected with the tree, screaming enough profanity for the tree's leaves to wither in shock. Yes, it hurt his foot but after kicking the trunk a few times, he had to admit that he felt better. A chuckle later, Doyle realised that he didn't even know the meaning of some of what he had screamed at an innocent tree. The laughter died down as he sank slowly to the ground, hoping to god that he didn't sit arse down on a rabbit trap. "Fuck, I just want to get home. I want to be with Cordy and me friends, it's not too much to ask is it?" Snorting, the half demon shook his head. He knew there was no one around to answer him, if there was, he would more than likely be in hospital by now. One hand fiddling with the grass beside him, the Irishman wondered if he would ever get back to the Hyperion and if he did, in just what state. Alive or dead? Knees drawn up to his chest, arms resting on top, Doyle lay his head on his forearms. He was lost and he had no idea of how to get home again, back to his friends and fiancee. The first thing he was going to do when he got back home was marry Cordelia. No more stuffing around with fancy invitations and what colour for the bridesmaid's dresses. One less bridesmaid anyway, Buffy was dead. With a groan, Doyle thought back to that horrible night in the Magic Box. The last thing he had seen was Willow being thrown into a van, followed by one of the masked gunmen. What had happened to everybody after that, he had no idea. He had been too shocked to even put up a fight with the black clad man in the back of the van with him, just waiting out the hours in silence. Ultimately, he had been transported to an unknown location and transferred into a concrete cell that had held nothing but a few blankets, a mattress and a pillow. The only decoration had been a metal toilet bowl. He had been fed twice a day for weeks, the boredom driving him to distraction after only a few days. No-one had spoken to him other than to tell him to stand and face the door when it was time for his meals, all his attempts at trying to share a joke or make conversation with one of his kidnappers had been ignored. He now knew why people in constant isolation usually ended up having conversations with themselves, they weren't crazy, they were just bored. No-one had threatened or intimidated him. He had received a large bowl of warm water and sponge every second day to wash himself with, new clothes had been provided after his original garments had gotten too dirty and he had been given new toilet rolls just as the old ones ran out. Doyle knew he had been fairly well treated, his constant fear had been that he would end up like Xander, used and abused. He had ended up being abused, just not in the way he had thought he would be. His eyes had been taken. No warning had been given. The half demon had been held down one morning over two weeks ago, his green eyes scooped out with an item that had looked like a spoon. It had hurt, he had screamed until he had passed out. He had shit himself, he wasn't ashamed to admit that. With a shudder, he could almost feel the cool metal sliding in between his eye and the lower lid, resting just behind his eye, the pain of his orb bulging out of his too small socket. He had no idea if they had been able to get his eyes out in one piece or not, if they had had to slice them into smaller pieces. The Irishman had woken up thinking his head was aching from a vision, only realising the nightmare had been real after touching his sewn up eyelids. Amidst all his renewed screaming, he had learnt that he had been expected to die. His survival being put down to his half demon status. Doyle hadn't really been game since to touch his eyes, too afraid of the hollowness he knew he would feel. Yesterday, he had been carried to a van and thrown in. Lying on the floor, he had talked himself hoarse with his many questions of what was going to happen to him, no answer given like always. The van had stopped, doors opened and he had been shoved out. After falling onto the hard ground, he had been terrified to realise that he had just been left behind in what he assumed was the middle of nowhere. At first he had sat down and waited for the van to come back, but after a while he had come to the conclusion that he was on his own and that only he could save himself. So, he had gotten up, twirled around a few times and had set off in the direction he had ended up pointing to. Walking into bushes, trees and falling into large holes. He had been lucky so far in that he hadn't seriously hurt himself and broken something. Doyle had felt the night descend, chilling him to the bone. All fears of broken bones and wild animal attacks had flown out of his head once he had felt the temperature drop. He had been more worried about freezing to death or catching a nasty virus. Ultimately he had been glad to wake to the sun warming his face, his body enjoying the rising temperature. With a hand rubbed through his hair, Doyle carefully got to his feet, resting against the solid tree trunk for a moment. Stepping out from under the shade, the half demon continued his journey forward. December 7, 2004 Hyperion Hotel 12.12 pm Cloth rinsed under the steaming water, Joyce winced as her hand came perilously close to being scalded by the hard stream of water. Cold-water tap twisted on, she let the two temperatures mingle before thrusting the cloth back into the steady stream. Cloth wrung out, the older woman proceeded to wipe down the kitchen bench. "God damn it!" It was Riley's birthday the next day and in trying to bake a simple chocolate cake, Joyce had created a barely organized chaos in the large kitchen. There was dried cake batter over almost every surface, the kitchen a quiet witness to a snap of Joyces nerves. It had taken three tries before finally getting a completely baked cake. The first try had been dropped on the floor in an accident, the tin just slipping from her grip. A few groans later, the almost done cake had been cleaned up and a new one shoved into the oven a mere half hour later. The second try had been thrown against the opposite wall after Joyce had burnt her fingers in getting the tin out, to see how the batter was cooking. The impact had echoed around the large kitchen, deep brown half-baked cake flying in all directions. Joyce admitted to herself that it wouldn't be that hard to clean up if she hadn't been lazy and let it dry first while making the third attempt. This time however, it was perfect. Riley was going to be twenty-eight. Joyce wouldn't be surprised if the tall ex-soldier took the opportunity to finally start drinking, allowing himself to slip into a beginning alcohol induced existence. Her daughter’s boyfriend was strong, she knew that. Only a person of exceptional character would have been able to keep Buffy's interest, let alone keep up with her. The blond man was dangerously close to slipping though and tomorrow might just be the day he went over the edge. Joyce hoped that between her and Graham, it wouldn't happen. Riley's best friend had come to her that morning, revealing his own fears for his buddy. Both of them were going to try to keep the tall blond busy, keep him occupied with enough so that he wouldn't even contemplate pouring his nightly drink. Angel had been informed of their fears, Graham having a quiet word to the vampire before the older demon had made his way to Wesley’s room that morning. Angel had merely grunted at the smaller man, brushing past Graham in the corridor like he wasn't there and Graham had let it happen. Upon being told, the older woman had hugged the taller man, slipping her arms around Graham's waist as she had felt the ex-soldier reciprocate. Together they had stood, neither making a move to release the other until Angel had burst into the kitchen, only then jumping apart as if burnt. The older vampire had taken no notice of the two humans, just wiping at the mess on his jumper before leaving again, Graham flashing Joyce a small smile before following. Joyce had to admit that she was more than a little annoyed that Angel had chosen that particular moment to appear. She couldn't deny that it had been a pleasant experience, having Graham's arms around her. It had felt so different from hugging Angel and Riley, even Wesley before he had gone into self-imposed exile. It had been nice, her heart doing the tiniest of flutters as she had leaned into the strong warmth. "I'm so fucking tired." Shoulders shrugged, Joyce smiled a little at voicing a random thought. With the last of the cake batter cleaned up, she threw the rag into the bin. "Quick pro quo and fucking blah, blah, blah." Ok, things were getting weird now because she sure as hell didn't remember thinking that so...why would she even say it? "Useless, that's what I am. That's what everyone is." No. This could not be happening. She was not going to take Drusilla's place as the nutty one. There was no way she would be able to live up to the legend anyway. Joyce had read the books on the dark haired vampiress after everyone had gotten over the shock of Drusilla's demise and had to admit that the woman had been fascinating. No wonder Spike had been addicted to her. A pang of pity went through her at the thought of the bleached blond, hoping that he presently wasn't in the pain Drusilla was so adamant he was feeling. The same thought going out for all the missing friends. "Bloody hell, where is everything?" What on earth was happening? One hand clapped over her mouth, the older human woman wondered just why she was saying things she knew wasn't coming from her mind. "Ich bin name...no, no that wasn't right. Hang on, Ich bin na..bugger!" German? She didn't know any German but it had sounded like it. Her voice making the sounds even if she didn't think it. Feeling a little sick, she walked across the linoleum to the kitchen table, knees wobbling as her legs threatened to give out. Chair dragged out, Joyce sat heavily as she said a complete sentence in German. French. She knew French but the guttural language of the Germans hadn't held an interest for her so she had never studied it but she was fluent in French. "London bridge is falling down, falling down..falling down,..London bridge is falling down..my fair lady." A sob broke thorough the quiet atmosphere of the kitchen as her words took on a crisp clear accent. An English accent. Hand wiping across her eyes, she smeared the salty tears as they made their way down her cheeks. "Oranges and lemons...the bells of Saint Clements...A-tishoo, A-tishoo...we all fall down...no, that was wrong. Damn it!" An English accented *male* voice. Not knowing whether to laugh or continue crying, the woman sniffled as she voiced more nursery rhymes from long ago. With her voice dropping lower with each word, she marvelled at how strange it was to speak with an accent other than American. She knew whose voice it was. It was one she had thought never to hear again, so uninhibited. It was Wesley's, completely free from the restraints the maiming had left him with. Unfortunately, from what she was mouthing, it was clear the man didn't have the healthiest of minds. ***WARNING - DRUG USE*** December 9, 2004Hyperion Hotel 10.13 am A hand rubbed through his hair, Angel poured himself a whisky. Gulping the half filled glass, he hesitated for a split second before pouring himself another. Sipping slower than before, the vampire thunked the heavy tumbler onto his stained desk, letting the few drops of spilled amber liquid blend into the numerous coffee rings. "God, I love you so much Wes. I'm so sorry that this had to happen" Whispering more in the hopes of making himself feel better, the tall brunette thought back to that morning and the complete disaster it had been. After his meeting with one of the leading therapists at the hospital, he had reluctantly allowed himself to be bullied into making another appointment to discuss the former Watcher's state of mind. He had been partially reassured that he had been doing the right thing, that it was proving to Wesley that the vampire really did care even if his lover couldn't see it just yet. All hell had struck a few days ago, the day of Riley's birthday. Joyce had suddenly started speaking as Wesley. Accent, pitch and speech patterns, perfect in all. Angel had been horrified to learn what was going through his lover's mind, saddened by Wesley's mental downfall. Needless to say, Joyce still wasn't handling it too well. She could still speak in her own voice but whatever she was trying to say was overridden by what Wesley was saying. Most of the time Wesley was trying to speak one of the numerous languages he had been so proficient in without letting the trauma to his tongue get in the way. French, German, Chinese, Latin and many more. Unfortunately, it was usually no more than random mutterings spiced up with such foul language even the normally stoic Graham was shocked. No one really knew just where he had learnt such language and if the situation had been different, each one would have teased the man mercilessly. Upon approaching Wes, backed up by Joyce and Graham, Angel had almost instantly wept when he had seen the horrific state of his former lover. The younger human had been lying in the middle of his room and for the first time in months, Angel had seen him naked. Gasps behind him had told the brunette that he wasn't imagining the protruding ribs and thin spindly limbs that were covered by a light matting of hair. He had been told by the therapist to expect something like that but how could he have? When people starved themselves of their body fat, the body automatically tried to conserve its body heat by growing extra body hair, he *had* been told but it had still shocked him. He had turned around without alerting the sleeping man to their presence, cutting off Joyce's protests by quietly telling her that he was going to hospitalise Wesley as soon as possible. That had been this morning. After a talk with the hospital therapist handling Wesley's case, Angel and Anne had gone through the traumas the former Watcher had been through over the last few months and combined with what both Joyce and Graham told her of Wesley's change of personality, Anne had agreed to take him in for observation. Wesley however, had given the ambulance officers a good run around the hotel, only allowing them to get him after he had collapsed from the effort. He had been strapped down on the trolley and slid into the ambulance, screaming obscenities to all and sundry - Joyce trying not to cry while clearly pronouncing the words that Wesley would forever twist. Anne had tried to reassure Angel by telling him that Wesley's problem was probably stemming from stress and not a distorted body image. The brunette had given the therapist a tight smile, not even bothering to tell the petite woman that the idea wasn't helping. That had been merely ten minutes ago and Angel was already exhausted for the day. He had no idea of how to help an increasingly distressed Joyce, thankful that Graham was currently plying her with numerous cups of camomile tea in an attempt to calm her down. Riley was at the hospital on Angel's behalf, dealing with the paperwork for Wesley's admittance. With all the uproar over Joyce's new-found abilities, Riley's birthday had been pushed aside and all but forgotten by everyone but Riley himself. He had taken himself upstairs once looking in the magic books had proved to be fruitless and had proceeded to drink himself into a state of semi-consciousness. Angel had eventually helped Graham settle Riley into bed, both ignoring the drunken protests. The vampire had then wandered back to his own room while Graham had gone to sit with Joyce for a little. Sighing, Angel knew that there was an attraction between the older woman and the normally stern soldier. He wasn't blind, and even if he was, there was no way he could miss the tiny wafts of arousal that emerged when they were together. Joyce wasn't unattractive for her age, no, she was actually still quite beautiful. Buffy had definitely gotten her looks from her mothers side. The older human woman was kind, patient, caring and loving. She was also a lot stronger than she looked, she had a strong will and a quiet determination. Angel admired her and he admitted that things would have been a lot harder on all of them if Joyce hadn't been around. She was his friend and if starting something with Graham brought her a little pleasure and happiness, then Angel was all for it. Graham wasn't a bad choice either. The brunette had never really met him before raiding Eternal but he had come to like the soldier. He was quiet but when he spoke, it was always worth taking note of whatever was said. The ex-soldier was stubborn, Angel knew that if he ever had to go head-to-head with the shorter man, he really didn't know who would win an argument. Graham was calm, never did anything out of the ordinary and was totally reliable. The only time Angel had seen him spooked was when Drusilla had run her hand down his arm, then again, Dru had spooked almost everyone she had ever met. All in all, Graham was Joyce's rock. With a slight smile to himself, Angel thought that whatever the reputation soldiers usually had for getting regular sex, it was obvious that Joyce was going to be the more experienced of the two. Rubbing at the beginning headache, Angel tried to will it away, knowing that it was a futile attempt. The only thing that would take away his headache, was a few of the tablets he kept hidden away and he didn't have any. He had used the last of them after his meeting with Anne, the therapist from the hospital, two days ago and he hadn't been able to go out and get any since. He had however, been given something extra in his last foil wrapped pills. Angel had handed over the wad of $50 dollar bills to the vet, snatching the offered package with out even looking at it. It had just been shoved into his duster pocket, the vampire in a hurry to get back to the Hyperion so he could have a relaxing few hours, something that he was seeking more and more. Upon unwrapping the packet while locked in his bathroom, the brunette had been disgusted to find three syringes, sterile swabs and a vial of clear liquid as well as his usual ten horse tranquillisers. In anger, the vampire had almost thrown out the syringes and flush the vial down the toilet but had stopped, reading the label of the vial first. Grade 3 Equine Sedative. He had let the lid of the toilet clatter down as he took in the words. It was just a liquid form of what he was already taking, nothing much, just something that was helping him go to sleep when he really needed it. The re-wrapped package was hidden in a box at the top of his closet. With a groan, Angel rubbed harder at his right temple, bottom lip gnawed as the headache struck full force. He wanted some sleep and he didn't have any tablets but he could get a few more in under half an hour if he ventured down into the sewer system and continued to the vet clinic. Something that he really didn't want to do but the promise of being oblivious to all was becoming more tempting by the second. In a snap decision, the vampire left his dark office and climbed the stairs to the first floor. A wave of pain flowed through him as he glanced down towards Wesley's rooms. Door closed and locked behind him, Angel crossed over to the closet. Rummaging around for the small tin, he experienced a feeling of relief as he brought down the colourful box. Foil packet opened, the brunette wondered if it was even going to work. Would the drug even circulate around his body without a heartbeat to pump the blood through his veins? The tablets had taken effect even without a working digestive system, so this should work as well. Head shaken, the vampire was momentarily dazed as the pain from his head started its trek down his body, his back knotting up in protest. He walked back to his bed, sitting down on the edge while placing the vial on the bedside table. Uncapping one of the syringes, Angel wondered how much to even take. It wasn't as if it was going to kill him but he didn't want to be out for too long, just long enough to relax and have a brief respite from the constant stress that surrounded him. Carefully putting the sliver thin needle into the rubber stopper of the vial, he drew a full syringe full of clear liquid. Hesitating before removing the needle, Angel told himself that he was only going to do this the once. He was going to make sure that he didn't run out of the tablets again. Needle removed, the vampire lay the full syringe down on the bedside table. Taking off his thick jumper and long sleeved t-shirt, Angel gave his temple an absent rub before leaning down to take off his shoes and socks. Once standing, he unbuckled his belt and unzipped his black slacks, letting them slide to the floor. For once he didn't worry about his clothes getting dirty, just allowing the expensive clothes to decorate his bedroom floor. Fisted pumped a few times, Angel reached down to pick up his belt from the floor and wrapped it tight around his upper arm, just above the crook of his elbow. He was only going to do this the once...never again. Repeating the sentence to himself a few times, Angel choked down the feeling of guilt, not wanting to know about it just that minute. Belt pulled tight, he opened and clenched his fist fast until he saw a vein rise. Angel really wasn't sure how he was able to get a rising vein as he was officially dead, but he wasn't about to question it right now. Once satisfied that he could see the blue stripe in the crook of his elbow clearly, he gathered up the syringe. Jaw clenched, the vampire firmly inserted the thin needle under his skin and into what he hoped was the vein, grimacing as he felt the metal glance against a nerve. How on earth did he know if it was even in his vein? Taking a chance, he pressed the plunger down, not looking as the clear liquid flowed into this body. Almost instantly Angel felt a burning around where the needle was situated. Tearing out the needle, Angel paid no attention to the small drips of blood. Belt loosened, he felt his arm grow cold as the drug made it's way up his limb, his fingers already cooler than he would have thought possible. Fingers tingling, he shook his hand, gasping as his body temperature dropped. "Fuck...what the hell have I just done?" Horrified by the sensation, the vampire stood and crossed the thick carpet towards the bathroom. Uncoordinated, Angel tried to turn on the bathroom light, growling as his hand refused to work properly. Sliding to his knees as the drug reached his mind, the brunette's growl turned into an exclamation of pleasure as he felt his body relax, his limbs feeling like they were controlled by strings. He was lying awkwardly on the cold hard tiles of the small room but as far as Angel was concerned, he was floating on a cloud of feathers. His mind finally relaxing into a pool of warm light liquid. It was nice. Maybe he wouldn't have the tablets next time? No, this was a once off time.....sort of....mmmmmmm...niiiiice. December 10, 2004 Wolfram and Hart 3.57pm "Hello Joyce" "The Italian deli, Paprika, on Henshaw street has something of value. We wish for it to be retrieved and returned to its rightful owners" "Good. It's a large white globe, the deli has it on display at one of the counters. Get it and have it dropped at the front counter of the New Seasons Hotel. It's to be plainly wrapped, addressed to Mr. William Walters. Is this clear?" "Good...One last thing, Joyce. Make sure everyone goes on this. We have not been happy with the last few performances, we do not wish to remind you of what is at stake." "It is not our concern how you get him returned from the hospital, just ensure that it is done within the next three days. If not, then a reminder will be sent - Do not make this happen, Joyce. I'm sure Angel will be glad to have Wesley back under his watchful eye. I know that we will be." "No...nothing dangerous, just a simple retrieval and if there is any resistance, I'm sure that it will be taken care of." Thunking the phone onto the walnut hand-polished desk, Lindsey continued to stroke himself. Each time he phoned the Hyperion to give that damned vampire a set of instructions, he got as hard as hell and each time, he gave into temptation. Eyes closed, the lawyer firmed his grip around his hard cock. Stroking the hot length, he thumbed his pre-cum along the shaft, lubricating the flesh. With a groan, he wondered how insane the new set of instructions would make the brunette vampire. Would Angel storm around the Hyperion threatening to mutilate or maim whoever was messing with his lovers health? Would the taller man just take it in his stride and drag Wesley from his hospital bed? Would this be the one to finally push the vampire over the edge? It was a risk that made Lindsey stroke faster. He wanted to push Angel as hard as possible, but not to completely break him. The panting man continued to fist his cock, occasionaly touching his lightly haired ball sac. Angel was too valuable to break entirely, too useful in getting items that Wolfram and Hart had problems retrieving. Who was going to argue with a snarling vampire, and one who was formerly the Scourge of Europe at that? Not to mention the two extremeley capable ex-soldiers backing him up. Sure, they were still missing their trigger fingers and they were yet to re-train in using their opposite hands but both men still excelled in hand-to-hand combat, something that had helped convince reluctant demons and other people to agree to Angel's requests. Almost at the edge of completion, Lindsey grunted as he thumbed a slick digit over his hot shaft. Once, twice and again, he came into his closed fist, marking his old grey sweat pants as the sticky fluid leaked between his fingers. After the second time he had given in, he had started changing his pants before calling the Hyperion and giving Joyce the instructions. Thank God he had a secure and private office, well, as much as Wolfram and Hart allowed that is. Tissues grabbed, the sated man gently cleaned off his spent cock. He wouldn't be surprised if Holland was jerking off himself, Lindsey knew the older man had an extra interest in him and after a few well timed comments, the lawyer was sure that his boss was watching Lindsey's office right that moment. Track pants removed once he was thoroughly cleaned, Lindsey pulled on his charcoal slacks, fastening the button and doing up the thick leather belt. Shoes back on his feet, he bent down and quickly tied both shoelaces, grimacing slightly as he realised they were just a touch too tight. Laces loosened, he wriggled his toes in an attempt to warm them up. No matter how much he turned the heating up, it was always cold in his office. Shrugging it off, he reached for his thick suit jacket. Buttons done up, he smoothed his hands down the front. He was once again a professional, not a man seeking a moment's pleasure at the expense of another. A glance at the clock and he saw that it was time for his meeting with Randall. "Dammit Angel!" "NO ONE IS GOING TO MOVE WESLEY!" Standing in complete Alpha stances, Riley and Angel glared at each other. Neither wanted to back down, show weakness. Angel was right, Wesley needed to stay in the hospital until he was better, and moving him now would more than likely ruin any progress that had been made, no matter how small it was. Unfortunately, Riley had a valid point as well, Spike would be missing another piece of anatomy if Wesley wasn't moved in three days. They had a hard choice ahead of them. They either left Wesley in the hospital and Spike got further mutilated, or they dragged Wesley from whatever help he was currently receiving and the bleached blond was left alone for the time being. "Angel, please. I know you love Wesley but surely, you can't want Spike to suffer as well?" "I don't give a fuck Joyce. Given the choice between Wesley and Spike, Wesley wins hands down each time...no debate whatsoever!" "You complete asshole! What gives you the right to condemn Spike to agony, and don't give me that 'I'm his Sire' bullshit, I don't want to know about it" "I *am* his Sire and I can do what ever I like to Spike. If I want to torture him, I can. I have absolute right over every single cell in his body. I created him, and I can sure as Hell dust him tomorrow if I want to. Let's face it Joyce, given the choice between Wesley and Spike, who would you choose?" "That's not fair Angel, and you know it. It's not fair that you should make that choice either. No-one should have to make the choice between a child and a lover" Sitting heavily on the dark blue couch next to the angry woman, the weary vampire struggled not to scream at the choice he was being forced to make. Joyce was right, it wasn't fair. With a glance at Riley still standing with hands on hips, the vampire noted that the glare had been replaced by an expression akin to sympathy. A gesture from Angel, and Riley was sitting in one of the over stuffed armchairs that the vampire usually favoured. "Joyce? Riley? Graham? I'm choosing Wesley because even though Spike is going to be put through pain that I can't even begin to imagine, he will get over it. Spike will always get over things. Things that I have done to him in the past, Drusilla, the chip. He *will* get over it, yes, it may take him a while but eventually, he will." "Are you sure?" "Yeah Graham, I am. When we find him, and we will find them all, we will just have to give him the support he is going to need. Spike is strong, no matter how many knocks he has, he always comes back swinging. Trust me, I *know* about that first hand." Listening to the dark haired vampire, Graham wondered just who he would choose if he was faced with the same choice. "Angel, I'm not ragging on you but say we do end up finding Spike with bits missing from him, what then? What if this is the knock that keeps him down for the count? How is that going to affect Xander when we get him back as well....If?" "Not 'if' Graham, it's *when*. OK, Spike is going to come back from this because if the vampire is old enough and strong enough, all damage is repaired by the body eventually - You know, like when Wes bit my finger." "What, *everything*?" "Yep, pretty much. Get a finger cut off, and even though it's going to take a while, it will grow back eventually. I don't want Spike to hurt anymore than he already has, but when it comes to the crunch, Wesley isn't going to be so easily repaired" Angel went quiet, watching the faces of his friends as they absorbed this new piece of information. It was a fact that had never been recorded by the Council, and with good reason. Most vampires that had re-generated limbs lost them in battles with other demons, and not Slayers, so the Watchers had never recorded that vampire trait into the diaries. With a turn of his head, he saw that Graham was getting ready to ask another question, hopefully one that Angel wouldn't mind answering. "He may get over it physically, but will he get over it mentally?" Stomach dropping at the one possibility he had so far never considered, the brunette vampire wondered just how strong his Childe was mentally. With all that had been inflicted upon the smaller vampire in the last few years, he wondered if it was a real possibility that it might be the last straw for the bleached blond. The Spike he had known in the recent years had definitely mellowed since his turning but it was a result of things forced upon him, not by choice. The loss of his Sire, Drusilla leaving him, being chipped, curtailed from hunting and being denied the right to be the predator that he so naturally was. Even helping Buffy hadn't been by choice, neither had been moving to L.A. and living under Angel's watchful eye. Without a doubt, the resentment and anger from being forced into situations not of his choosing was piling up in the blond and now the physical mutilation.... Angel couldn't help but think that it may just be what tipped the scales for his Childe, no matter how strong he had previously been. Softly, Angel answered the question as honestly as he could. "I don't know" December 11, 2004 Sanity 6.13pm Leaning into the caress, Scott gave the demon a broad grin. A large paw with sheathed claws patted his unruly hair. At a soft growl from the furred demon, the brunette slid to his knees in front of the silver haired biped. "Is there any particular 'thing' that you would like me to do tonight Sir?" "Nnnnnoooo." His grin getting wider, Scott gave a silent thanks to the Gods, knowing that he was lucky that he had gotten the better of the two R'nthor demons. The whore could hear the solid thumps of Andrew's already battered body as he bounced off the walls in the room next door. As much as he pitied his fellow co-worker, he was glad to have been grabbed by the gentler of the pair of demons. The only downside to Andrew's current treatment was that the petite youth would more than likely be off work for a few day's, meaning that both Scott and the others would have to take on extra clients until the blond was able to work again. As the paw being rubbed through his hair started to slow, Scott focused on the task ahead of him. Not much to do really, R'nthor demons were renowned for having small cocks and an extra quick release time - Something that caused all the whores to rush the demons as soon as one of the species walked through the doors of Sanity. At the most, it was going to take Scott about five minutes to complete his current job. From foreplay to licking the demon clean after it had cum. A long lick from the heavy sac to the head of the solid cock, Scott momentarily hesitated as he heard a gut wrenching scream from the room next to him. Not good. Eyes closed, he opened his mouth to take the hard shaft. Leaning forward as he relaxed his throat, the brunette stroked the demon's inner thighs. The short cock just touching the back of his throat, the whore swirled his tongue along the underside of the R'nthor's warm shaft. "Ssscchhoooot....gooood!" With a gulping motion, Scott grasped the base of the silver skinned penis tightly, prolonging the enjoyment for the demon. A small thank you for being chosen and so far, not being punched. Letting the small shaft of flesh slide from his mouth, the taller youth sucked gently on just the head. Long slow licks around the creatures foreskin, Scott ensured that the demon got every second of enjoyment it had paid for. "Cooooommme?" Another thanks given to the higher beings and the whore slowly released his grip around the base of the short cock. The shaggy haired youth concentrated on swallowing the warm salty liquid that flowed across his tongue, trying to ignore the abuse Adam was screaming at the demon next door. From the sound of it, Andrew's leg had been broken and maybe both his arms as well. As the patting of the paw got faster again, Scott licked the last of the sour, gel-like substance from the head of the demon's cock. With a playful lick at the heavy sac, he grinned up at the R'nthor as it chuckled from his actions. "Goood Sssscoooot...gooood." "Thank you Sir...is there anything else that you would like me to do?" His face patted by the silver furred paw, Scott almost flinched as Adam yelled at Andrew to stop his whinging. Taking his eyes off the demon for a moment, the brunette felt a lurch of sympathy as he saw the smaller blond being carried by two of the Keepers past the half-closed curtain to his service room. A light stroking on his forehead and Scott jerked his gaze back up to the demon's grinning face, suddenly worried that the demons Mate might come in to give Scott a round of 'Snap' as well. "Prrreeetyyy....gooood." "Thank you Sir. Your pleasure is mine." At the demon's laughter, Scott allowed some of his fear of the creatures companion to dissipate. This was good This is what he had been hoping for all along. Scott already knew that this particular demon favoured him and he was hoping that the favouritism would pay off. The whore was hoping that the demon would be added to Scott's list of regulars, demons that had the right to make advance bookings for Scott's service, sometimes causing an abusive demon to miss out on a session with the brunette. In all reality, Scott had no say whatsoever as to which demons went onto the list, but so far, the good outweighed the bad by three demons. Now all he had to do was get the demon to ask to be put on the list, how he would acomplish that was another thing entirely. The brunette knelt sedately on the floor in front of his client as the minutes ticked by, just content for the other male to keep stroking his hair. It was nice to have a quiet client for once, he thought, refusing to think of the demon that he knew had booked him for an hour at 1am. He could almost feel the pain already, his stomach clenching in fear of what was to come. Shaking the unpleasant thought off, Scott allowed the demon to lull him into a false sense of security for a small time. BUZZZZ! "I'm sorry Sir but time is up, thank you for allowing me to take time with you. I'm looking forward to the next time." "Uuuuupp." In one fluid motion, Scott rose from his knees and looked down at the shorter demon. Wondering how long it took to work the silver hair into the tiny waist length braids the creature sported, the whore stood passively as a large paw was thrust down his loose black work pants, callused pads awkwardly touching his soft cock. Scott gently reminded the demon that the time was up, smiling as the soft fur tickled him along a hip, the large paw making its way up his chest. "Please Sir?" "Mmmmmmm." Abruptly, the demon's paw was removed from under Scott's tight black singlet, the silver furred creature leaving the brunette standing in the service room alone. With a small yawn, Scott looked around the tiny room, checking that all was in order before he left. A tug on the double bed's cover and it was straightened once again, Scott wishing he was back at the Eternal again. At least there, he had had more privacy than a curtain covering the doorway, something that was pretty ineffective at most times. There were countless nights where he had been fucked in front of an audience of demons that had bribed the Keepers to allow them to have a little look. Scott knew that it wasn't worth telling Adam or Randall, it would only stop for a few weeks and then start again. More than likely after Scott had been 'punished' by the Keepers for tattling first. At least in Eternal, he had had a door. He had also had a private toilet and shower - not to mention a nightlight. Scott wasn't allowed a nightlight now, so there was nothing to keep the nightmares at bay except sheer will-power and the threat of Adam talking to him privately. A talk with Adam was not something that anybody wanted to have twice. Angelus had nothing on Adam as far as Scott was concerned. The brunette had been a witness to numerous clients being reduced to varying levels of fright after being talked to by Adam, something that had earned the dark man a lot of respect in the demon community. Smoothing a hand over the dark bed covers, Scott took in the bare white walls, again wishing that he was back at the Eternal. The wood panelling was sorely missed, it had given the youths something to concentrate on when a client was grunting away inside of them. The youths didn't even have their own service rooms anymore, it was just take what room was available or whichever one they were dragged/shoved/thrown into. Their sleeping quarters weren't much better either, they were just cubicles with an open doorway, not even a curtain to give the whores a sense of privacy. Same as the communal shower block, it was just a shallow concrete square pit with enough room for all ten youths to shower at once. Something that they did each early evening as soon as the sun went down. The cleanliness factor was still a priority for the whores, they were expected to wash after each client, body moisturiser applied as usual. At least that had remained the same. Even the meals were different, the quality getting steadily worse each week but as long as he had water, Scott didn't care. A sigh and Scott idly rubbed at his ankle, his light sandshoe pulled on properly. Time to go back out into the main bar, time to smile and agree to whatever his next client wants. Pushing the curtain to one side, Scott slowly walked back down the short corridor, a soft smile at the grunting and squealing coming from one of the rooms he passed. Who was in there, he had no idea and really didn't care. A hand wiping at his chin, he hoped that there wasn't any dried demon cum to be seen. That would just earn him a slap across the head from one of the Keepers and quite possibly get him dragged into the shower block and forcibly scrubbed clean, something which happened to little Christopher quite often. The large gargoyle-like Keeper standing at the main doorway passed, Scott plastered a wide grin on his face, scanning the demons for his next client. Ever since the demon prostitutes had been let go, the human whores had been told to mingle and make conversation with the numerous demons that came in each night. Make them feel welcome, Scott and the others had been told. Remember, these demons are the only thing standing between you and a snuff flick, he had been informed. Scott had pitied the newcomers when David/Jonathan's death video had been played for them, knowing that he wouldn't be the only one to be continually asking for a nightlight. A lonely looking vampire spied, Scott made his way over to the gamefaced Asian. Hips swaying in time to the music, the brunette lowered his eyes as he asked the vampire if he wanted company. Upper arm gripped tightly, Scott allowed himself to be dragged onto the vampires lap, giving a giggle and a moan as he felt the cock beneath him begin to harden. Stroking the demons face ridges, the brunette ground himself down onto the cool lap. "Do you like me Sir?" "Shut up, did I tell you to speak?" "No Sir. I'm sorry." "Doesn't matter anyway and yeah, I like you." With that, Scott found himself being dragged by a steadily bruising arm back down the same corridor he had only just vacated. Shoved into the first vacant room, the brunette was given no time to ask what the vampire wanted, his black clothing ripped from his tanned body by a snarling, dark-haired male. Breathing hard, Scott was manhandled onto his back, legs spread wide. The vampire stalked the small room from corner to corner, snapping in Scott's direction. "Don't move and don't fucking speak." Not daring to nod, Scott lay on the bed with legs spread, staring at the unexciting ceiling. He knew that the vampire had gone to ask one of the Keepers for something to make the brunette hurt. He shuddered at the great gusts of laughter coming from the Head Keeper and from what he presumed was his client. It was going to be bad - no doubt about it. His fears were justified when he heard the snapping sound of a large belt. Unable to help himself, he felt his heart rate accelerate, cursing silently to himself as he knew that it would do nothing but excite the vampire more. "Gonna make you scream, and you had better scream. I paid extra for this so fucking well make this worth my money." "Yes Sir." SNAP "Did I ask you to speak?" SNAP "I just asked you a question, you gonna answer it?" "I'm s.sorry S.s.sir, no you d.didn't." SNAP "Did I ask you to speak then?" "Ahhh!" SNAP "Pull your legs up, I want to see that arse of yours..Go on. Stop fucking around" SNAP..SNAP...CRACK Holding himself open for his client, Scott did as he was commanded, screaming each time the leather bit into his tender inner thighs, shrieking in agony as the wide strap connected with the small patch of skin between his anus and balls. Over and over the vampire kept asking him if he was going to scream louder, demanding that Scott give him an answer and then snapping the belt harder when the brunette tearfully answered the question. "Did I specifically *ask* you to speak?" SNAP "Did I?" SNAP "Did I?" SNAP "Di.." "NO.S.S..SIR!" CRACK "Well, I didn't ask you then either did I?" CRACK "Did I?" SNAP With a howl of frustration, fright and agony, Scott screamed his answer, again receiving another welt across his anus for speaking. "N..NO SIR!" SNAP For the next thirty minutes, Scott concentrated on holding his legs in the demanded position, fearing the consequences if he let go. Finally, the vampire threw down the belt. Still with legs held open, his knees almost beside his ears, Scott was unable to hold back his groans of pain as the Asian male sank into him. With no preparation, the steady pounding grated against the fresh welts, each one screaming its own tune. Tears threatening to make their presence known, Scott knew that his worst client was still to come at 1am the next morning. Silently, he gave a round of applause as the solid male grunted his release into him before pulling out and laying on top of the hurting brunette. A cool tongue thrust into his mouth, Scott obediently slipped his own into the vampire's, letting the other male suck hard on his tongue. Unable to suppress a squeak as the sucking grew to painful proportions, the brunette was shocked when the client withdrew his tongue and spat onto Scott's face. Slowly, the vampire rubbed his own spittle into the whore's face. With wide dark brown eyes staring at the client, Scott was once again in a state of agony as the vampire deliberately ran his fingers along each welt, pushing and twisting at the bright red raised marks. "Stay there and don't move until I go. I want to see my handiwork for a few more minutes." A slight nod and Scott gasped for breath as the heavy male climbed from on top of him. The client slowly did up his zipper, not even having removed his shoes and dark slacks, just his shirt for the whipping session. Scott lay on his back, his thighs only just starting to feel the first signs of getting tired. He was used to the position, it was one that he found himself in most of the time, either that or on all fours servicing two clients at once. The completely dressed vampire smirked at him, fingers digging into Scott's tender flesh, delighting in the moans he received. Another twist of his abused skin and Scott was thankful to see the client go as the buzzer sounded. Resting for few minutes, Scott slowly lowered his legs, pain etched across his face as the heat flared up in the welts. With a deep breath, the brunette swung himself into a sitting position, only to hastily roll himself on to his front as the bed covers rubbed against the abraded skin. "Keeper!" "K..k.k.keeper, I n.need help t.t.to the sh.sh.showers." With a grimace, Scott was dragged from the bed, and with one arm around the gargoyles waist, the brunette limped his way slowly to the shower block. Once showered, he would be examined by Adam and be sent straight back to work if deemed fit enough. And judging from Adam's reaction to Andrew's injuries, Scott would be back out in less than half an hour. Sniffling slightly, the sore brunette consoled himself with the thought that Angel and Spike would find him soon enough. |
