The Key to Connor II
The Angelus Chronicles: Chapter 23

Disclaimer: I don't own them

Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Angelus/Buffy. Cordy/Gru. Angelus/William.
Willow/Tara. Xander/Anya

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice: darkrhiannon@aol.com

Rating: NC-17 to XXX for violence, rape, character death, blood play,
slash, sex and bad, bad words.

Author's Note: Quotes are from Ats "I will Remember You." I have, as
usual, played fast and loose with them. Enjoy. -Rhi

*

Angelus paced through the streets that night seething inwardly as he
trained his preternatural senses upon the evening air, intent upon
finding Drusilla. Spike refused to break easily this time (honestly
he'd not broken that easily the first time), and Angelus was now
certain he knew why. Buffy's blood was sustaining the vampire, even
after his resurrection. He was stronger now than he'd been before, due
to her. Angelus had thought he'd prevented his childe from drinking
that much from her but now he wondered, had she let Spike drink from
her even before she'd come to LA? Her blood was amazing--powerful and
alive. He could almost taste it on his tongue, and longed for more of
it with desperate passion.

Buffy. It all came down to Buffy. She was his. His mate, his
possession, his to hurt and fuck, bleed and break. The bitch belonged
to him. Totally. And she'd been fucking his childe, had let him drink
her, perhaps even more than once. It was enough to make him scream
with rage and torment Spike for eternity. Knowing that while the
pathetic soul had suffered in order to keep him caged under its
nauseating lock and key that little bitch had been whoring herself to
two humans and a vampire was more than he could stand.

His jealousy was all-encompassing, his rage completely out of control.
*Bleed her, fuck her, break her till she begs for mercy…HA! Mercy from
a demon, from Angelus, the Scourge of Europe, the most vicious
creature ever known.* He prided himself on his titles, though they
weren't the reason he'd done anything. It was his nature that demanded
that he be the best…the best lover, the best fighter, the best
destroyer. Nothing but the best for Angelus. And Buffy was the best,
he admitted reluctantly. Despite his hurtful, taunting words, he
couldn't get that first glorious night with her out of his head, the
feel of her off of his skin; nor could he escape the carnal memories
of the day that wasn't. Tinged as they were with the soul's
overwhelming, sickening love for the Slayer, the memories made his
skin crawl at the same time that they fascinated him:

"Buffy will always be a part of me, and that's never going to change,"
he'd said to Cordelia.

Buffy had asked him later, angrily, "What is this? Some new torment
you cooked up just for me?"

"No, I don't want to torment…" oh, no, *Angel* didn't want to torment
her, but *Angelus* did. In so many glorious, painful ways, he longed
to torment his mate until she screamed for him in agony, in ecstasy,
it really didn't matter as long as she screamed for *him*.

"You didn't feel that I was important enough to even tell me that you
were there."

She was so wrong. Angel had looked at her: "I'm trying to explain.
It's because I felt that you're important that I didn't tell you."

Her next words had made his undead heart sing. "When you're around,
whether I see you or not--I feel you--inside--and it throws me." Oh,
he felt her too, felt that zinging sensation that heralded the
presence of the killer of his kind. Her body made his senses glow with
power, made him shudder at her touch, made him long for her in ways he
couldn't even verbalize.

He told her, "When we're apart--it's easier." She had stared at him
and he'd realized that his words had hurt her. The soul cringed from
hurting her, while the demon laughed.

"It hurts--every day. But I live with it." He'd been unable to keep
his distance from her…drawn to her as if by magic. He slowly stepped
closer to her, within touching distance. And now you're--you're right
here--and I can actually reach out...and--it's more than confusing,
it's unbearable."

He remembered the need to hold her, to touch her, to feel her in his
arms once again. He'd wanted to drink in the sunshine that somehow
always flavored her lips; wanted to crush her against him and never
let her go. Instead he'd pushed her away with his words, driving her
from him and up into the light where he could never follow.

He remembered watching the Mohra blood from the fight swirl around and
sink into his wound, which had closed up in front of his eyes. A light
had raced from his right hand through his whole body and he'd
collapsed with pain, uttering a single strangled cry.

Angelus remembered that pain well, for it had forced him from the body
he'd considered his own--his prize for over two centuries. The demon
had been pushed from his home and set adrift in a torturous limbo that
pulled and twisted at his ethereal form until he'd prayed to all that
he held unholy for true death. He'd longed to be extinguished, the
flame of his passion and hatred for all things living to end, simply
to escape the torment that ripped at his very being. It had lasted an
eternity.

It had lasted one day.

He knew that now, had access again to all of the memories of the soul
in *his* body, enjoying sunshine, food, sex (he refused to call it
love) without him. Free of his demon's presence for the first time in
two hundred years, Angel had rejoiced in everything he'd encountered.

Angel had stared at his hand in disbelief: "I'm alive! Buffy and I
were attacked by some kind of demon. I--I tracked it--and killed it."
He held out his right hand. "A-and some of its blood mixed with mine."

Doyle laid two fingers on his wrist: "And you wound up with a pulse?"

"Yeah. I'm mortal now," he said. "I have a mortal body." He stared
toward Cordy. "And I'm so--hungry!" He raced for the refrigerator,
grabbing at things indiscriminately. Angelus was insanely jealous of
those sensations, tastes and textures he'd never been able to truly
understand, only reliving them in the memory of the one he'd
possessed.

"Oh my God. Food." Angel had taken another bite. "This is
unbelievable. This is so..." He smelled the apple. "You know, I forgot
how good it all tastes when you're alive! Uhm, chocolate! Oh," he
laughed, "chocolate!"

The stupid soul had run to the Oracles for confirmation of his state.

They confirmed it. He was alive. "From this day, you will live and die
as any mortal man," said the male.

Never one to let her cohort get the last word, the female had chimed
in, "Privy to all the attendant pains -- and pleasures."

Angel had been unable to believe it. "That's it? I'm free?" he asked.

He'd returned to the companions that Angelus hated almost as much as
he hated the Slayer's friends. "They're a little confusing, but...the
gist of it is...it's real. I'm free."

"Right. It's overwhelming," Doyle said. "You can pretty much do
whatever you want now. The question is, what do you want?"

The soul knew immediately what it wanted. Angelus snarled inwardly as
he paced along the dark alleys of Los Angelus, searching for Drusilla.
The soul always knew what it wanted. The same thing he did. They
wanted Buffy. She'd been walking in a park overlooking the beach.

She could feel him, he knew, despite the change in his state, and she
turned around to watch him step through a shadowed arch in a hedge. He
could still picture her face as she watched him walk out into the sun
towards her. The awe with which she'd witnessed his first steps into
the light. But then, stepping towards her had always been moving
towards the light for the soul. This was simply a physical
manifestation of its metaphysical journey. He'd been unable to resist
her...unwilling to resist her. They kissed.

*It was incredible,* Angelus admitted it to himself, just as the soul
had. But then the stupid soul's litany of excuses had begun.
Regardless of humanity, Angel simply didn't think he was worthy of
such happiness. "I just...I...I think, maybe we'd be asking for
trouble rushing back into things." Buffy looked at him wordlessly and
he'd stumbled on. "Not that I don't want to...rush. Believe me, I do."

He got up with a sigh and moved to the chair next to her. "I'm not
saying I don't want you. You know how much...I'm just saying it's
worth the wait to be sure this is right. I need to be sure you won't
get hurt again...Remove the temptation."

She'd been so hurt, so very sad as he'd rejected her once again.
Angelus knew her, knew everything that hurt her, everything that
healed her. The demon treasured each wince of her perfect face, each
searching glance that dropped unhappily to stare at her shoes. The
stupid soul had broken her heart again with his words. *In many ways,*
Angelus thought, *the soul had hurt her far more than he'd ever been
able to.* He was jealous of that power; insanely jealous of it.

She'd turned to go, but then turned back for just a moment. She put
her hand on top of his on the counter. They'd both stared down at
their hands. And then he'd done it. The feeling of that warm, strong
hand on his had completely undone him...turned his mind from what he
*should* do to what he wanted so desperately *to* do.

He'd turned his hand to grab hers then reached out and pulled her into
a kiss. They stumbled up against the fridge and Buffy jumped up to
wrap her legs around his waist. Still kissing, he carried her over to
the kitchen table, its contents to the floor and laid her down upon
it.

He'd stayed at her mouth, kissing and licking, eating at her tender
lips until he was moaning in need. His hands, big and suddenly almost
clumsy, had stripped her clothes from her frantically, needing to feel
her warm skin under his own. She'd felt different, tasted even better
than he'd remembered, and Angel had been shocked. His memories were
all that got him through the days and nights of his lonely existence
in LA, and to think they were that inadequate startled him. Then he
realized. She tasted better because he could really, truly taste her.

His vampiric tastes were centered around blood, and Buffy's was
extraordinary...ambrosial to him in every way. His sense of smell was
likewise extremely acute, but also oddly limited. He could smell
everything, but it didn't smell *right.* He could smell blood from
yards away, tell a real blonde from a fake one in one scent, and
discern the difference between practically any two things under the
moon. But he couldn't truly savor the flavors of foods...the subtle
interlocking tastes eluded him.

He'd wondered if Buffy would feel cooler to him, now that his own body
temperature was equal to hers, but she was still an inferno to him. He
felt as if her skin was scorching him as he kissed his way down her
throat to linger at her collarbones, licking and nibbling until she'd
pushed his head further down and arched her back as he took one
rounded breast into his hands, caressing it first with his thumb and
then with swift strokes of his no-less-talented, if warm, tongue.

Buffy had groaned beneath him, needing him, wanting him, and his heart
had soared. It was so strange, feeling his heart race, actually
needing to breathe, instead of simply doing it as a matter of habit or
camouflage. He couldn't get enough of her, couldn't stop sliding his
hands over her smooth, warm skin. He kissed her breasts, sucking each
nipple into his mouth and laving it, biting at it, then soothing it
with soft pulls of his mouth.

Buffy cried out, "Please, Angel, please!" And he'd been so proud to
make her beg for it...for him. Soul or not, his desires were darkly
passionate, the soul had admitted to himself. He wanted to possess
Buffy, to feel her underneath him, and know that she was his, truly,
in mind, spirit and flesh.

That first time he'd wanted to take her hard and fast, desperation
warring with desire, need battling finesse on both of their parts.
He'd moved up her body and kissed her lips, no longer scorching
himself in the process. He was as warm as she, he'd realized with
something akin to awe.

She'd kissed him back as if she needed to eat him--to taste every inch
of him--with hungry, desperate kisses that only broke when they were
both panting for breath. He needed air now, and the feeling was
marvelous. He panted for oxygen and sucked gasps of air into his
lungs, tasting her in the very molecules as he did so.

Buffy had stood and ripped his clothes from him without hesitation and
he'd realized that she was far stronger than he for the first time
since he'd seen her so long ago. Angelus had always been one of the
strongest vampires of the Order of Aurelius, due, no doubt, to his
intimate relationship with Darla and hers, in turn, with the Master.
Nest and Darla had exchanged blood near constantly, sharing kills that
she brought to him in the sewers since his countenance could not be
seen above ground without causing panic.

Her loss when Angelus took her with him above ground had hurt Nest in
more than simple demonic sentimentality...he'd missed her gifts of
prey, her glorious body, and blood as well. Angelus had gained
strength almost daily as they fucked and drank each other into
satiated somnolence again and again.

Now that strength was gone, and Angel had realized how much he'd come
to depend on being the strongest, fastest vampire around. A match for
any slayer but one. Buffy was stronger than he, but now, much more
so. He resolved to not let it bother him and kicked himself mentally
for brooding while she was, *ah!* doing such wonderful things with her
tongue. Where had she learned that?

He groaned and pulled his exquisite lover up from her knees and laid
her back upon the table like some exotic meal that was only his to
taste. Leaning over her, Angel had placed hot wet kisses down her neck
(where her pulse no longer called to him, tempting and taunting with
the flow of blood he had tasted only once before).Now he was
captivated instead by the smooth texture, the finely grained skin and
the seemingly delicate collarbones that called for more kisses.

Buffy had moaned as he moved his mouth lower, skirting her delectable
breasts for the time being and concentrating on her ribs, biting
gently at each one and drawing more inarticulate sounds from his
beloved. He spread her once more before him like a feast and moved
lower still, sucking and biting at her hipbones, then sliding down
that tender joining of pelvis and hip until his mouth was inches from
her core. She groaned in passion, whispering his name with that
half-questioning lilt that tore at his heart, and he pressed his mouth
to her heat.

"Angel!" she had shrieked, and he threw finesse to the winds, feasting
on her wet cunt with lips and tongue until she came, writhing
violently against him and nearly snapping his neck with her powerful
thighs. He'd pulled back at last, licking her juices from his lips
with a satisfied smile that was quickly wiped from his face as she
grabbed him and pulled him to her.

Her legs hung over the table sides and he was tall enough that her
sopping pussy was the perfect height. He'd wanted to tease her, and
himself, to taunt that hot opening with just the tip of his cock, then
run it up over her pulsing clit, but she'd not given him the chance.

Buffy grabbed Angel around the waist and pulled him to her, shuddering
in bliss. She'd almost come again just from his hard cock thrusting
into her liquid depths. He could feel the ripples moving through her,
and knew that he would spend in seconds if he couldn't get her to stop
moving for a moment.

He pushed her flat back against the table and began stroking her
sensitive nipples, plucking and twisting while he held himself
absolutely still in her throbbing cunt. She'd wrapped her flexible
legs around his hips and pulled him even deeper into her and he'd lost
all conscious thought, knowing that the only woman he had ever loved
held his living body within her. He pounded into her with fast, hard
strokes and she screamed his name over and over as she fell from the
precipice of orgasm.

Then the table legs gave way and they crashed to the floor with Angel
still inside her and he hadn't stopped, hadn't asked hesitantly if she
was all right. No, he'd plowed her, fucked her, loved her with every
iota of his being and spilled his now-living seed at last in her hot,
willing body, then collapsed upon her, spent.

They had laughed about it, once they'd caught their breath, and he'd
withdrawn from her, reluctantly, only now thinking about the loss of
more than just vampire strength. He'd lost the vampire ability to
rebound instantaneously from orgasm, as well, and he knew he'd need to
wait a short while, at least, before he could take her again. He'd
resolved to put the time to good use, swept her into his arms and
carried her into the bedroom.

Angel had spent over an hour kissing, caressing and sucking on his
lover from her tantalizing mouth to her luscious nipples and streaming
cunt. He'd fingered her, eaten her, and even cajoled her into teasing
herself as he watched with heavy-lidded eyes before he'd joined with
her again, loving them both into exhaustion before he was willing to
rest. At last he'd headed to the kitchen with a mind towards
regenerating his energy.

Angelus hissed to himself as he remembered Buffy yelling at him from
the bedroom when he'd stood indecisively in the kitchen wondering what
tastes he could satisfy after the hours he'd spent loving her in every
possible manner. The soul had put centuries of experience and talent
in the erotic arts to good use with his mate, doing things that the
demon could only dream of doing with her. Jealousy overwhelmed him at
the memories, which he shared as if they were his own.

Buffy had yelled, "Peanut butter, preferably crunchy!" from the
bedroom and he'd found a jar that Cordelia had denied feasting upon.

He'd plundered the fridge, as well and popped his head up above the
door to reply, "I got it."

His arms piled with food, he'd made his way back to the bedroom, naked
but for some strategically placed food items to preserve his dignity.

He'd dumped the food on the bed and slipped under the sheet.

Buffy, barely clad in his black robe, smiled at him and he'd thought
that he would gladly kill to receive that look from her for the rest
of their lives. Their human lives.

"The perfect yum," she said.

He fed her a spoonful of ice cream. "Mmm, this is a dream. You're
human for like a minute and already there is
cookie-dough-fudge-mint-chip in the fridge," she grinned at him.

He was amazed at the taste, the textures of their feast. "God, I love
food."

Buffy fed him some ice cream on a chocolate waffle and agreed, "Food
is good."

She'd kissed him then and he'd tasted the ice cream and chocolate in
her mouth, mixing with her own inimitable flavor. He'd thought for a
moment that he'd died and somehow gone to heaven instead of where he
belonged. It was too good to be true.

"Why didn't you ever tell me about chocolate and peanut butter?" he
asked wonderingly, amazed at the combination of tastes melding in his
mouth.

Buffy looked pensive, "Well, I figured if your vamp taste buds
couldn't really savor it, then it would only hurt you, you know? By
the way, I'm over the whole needing to be mature thing. That time you
just spent in the kitchen? That was enough time apart."

Angel had smiled at her, "Too much."

They kissed and some ice cream dripped from his spoon onto his chest.
It was cold, icy, even, and he'd flinched a little. "Okay, mortal
coordination leaving something to be desired."

Buffy grinned at him, "Wrong. It's just right."

She'd licked the ice cream from his chest, the heat of her mouth
contrasting with the cool sting of the ice cream in a way that had
made him shudder as his cock sprang to life below the sheet. He'd
laughed and pulled her down into a kiss that deepened into desire too
powerful to be just lust; love too strong to be forgotten.

The demon winced at the memory, frustrated by Buffy's instantaneous
rejection of his advances and angry at his loss of her. She was his
mate, all the more so now that the soul was gone and only the demon
remembered that day. Angelus wouldn't, couldn't admit to himself that
he craved the Slayer's love as much as he craved her sex. He simply
needed to spend himself within her in all the ways that the soul had
enjoyed. Once he'd wrung every possible sensation from her powerful
body, once he'd plundered every passage and stamped his possession on
every inch of her, once he tasted her again, beaten and brought her
low, he would surely be free of this damned weakness for his enemy.
Then he could turn her and keep her with him always. Then *he* would
be the victor.

She was perfection, her body so tiny, lithe, and supple underneath,
beside, on top of him. Her heat scalded his undead flesh and made him
desperate for more. And her blood, more powerful than anything he'd
ever experienced, enough to make him spend over and over again until
his pleasure mixed beautifully with his pain, precisely the way he
craved. He must have her again, must capture her soon, before she
could find another one of those infernal orbs and damn him back into
captivity again.

But now it was time for Spike to pay, for, as Angelus turned the
corner, the call that tugged at his blood, the call of his lovely,
demented Childe, blazed strong and true in his mind and he saw
Drusilla, elegant in a long, black silk dress, feasting gluttonously
upon a fair-haired child in the darkness of the alley.

*

Buffy had waited in Samuel's apartment all day for the Orb. It was
being fed-exed to his apartment from Jamaica, but hadn't arrived in
time.

*It should be here by tomorrow,* she thought. *Plenty of time to turn
that murdering son-of-a-bitch back into the broody vampire we all
love. God help me though. Angel will never, ever forgive me for
unleashing Angelus.


Chapter 24


Angelus paced slowly forward until he stood before Dru in the dark
alleyway. The slender vampire tilted her head to one side, regarding
him out of eyes that still glowed amber with her change. Suddenly
she morphed back from game face to the deceptive fragility of her
human demeanor.



"Daddy," she cooed, seeing in his callous eyes the lack of anything
remotely resembling human compassion. No, Angelus was passion
itself, with no room for tenderness of any kind.



"Dru, where are your manners? You didn't offer to share, and you're
hunting my city without my permission," Angelus chided in an
ominously gentle tone, his smile of faux concern tainted with the
rich promise of retribution.



"I'm sorry, Daddy. I didn't mean to disobey," Drusilla replied, her
soft brown eyes widening in sudden trepidation.



"It's no use, Drusilla," Angelus replied cordially. "You'll have to
be punished. You've been a very naughty girl, and you know what
happens to bad little girls." He smirked with delight. This was
going to be so much fun.



He turned and stalked silently back through the alleys, Dru a wispy
shadow ever on his heels. Angelus stopped only once, to kill a small
blonde woman who had the bad luck to be leaving a night club as he
passed by. The kill was quick and brutal…almost perfunctory, and
served only to quicken his senses and whet his appetite for his mad
childe.



They arrived quickly at the apartment building and he strode silently
to the elevator. Drusilla was enraptured by the lobby…spinning
wildly for a moment while they waited for the elevator to arrive.
She could smell the death, the blood, and violence imbued into the
very marble of the floor. It had been covered by new carpeting. Its
acrid taint failed utterly to conceal the blood scent that had soaked
into the porous marble below it, etching Angelus's kills into the
stone forever. It was indescribable to a vampire, despite the nasty
carpet stench wafting above it, and Dru slid halfway to gameface
despite herself.



Angelus smirked at her and tsked, waving one finger at the display in
paternalistic manner. "Dru, you know the rules, no game face where
humans might see unless you're on a kill. You've become a
disrespectful, wild childe and I'm going to have to train that out of
you immediately. You're a disgrace to our Line."



Dru forced herself back to human visage and ducked her head in
shame. She *was* a bad girl, a naughty childe, and she deserved
everything he did to her. She so wanted to be good, and if Angelus,
her dark star would only tell her how to be good, she would be the
best childe ever. In the face of his implacable calm, Dru felt her
meager defenses go up in smoke, her every weakness open to his whims
and fancies.



"I'm sorry, Daddy, you're right," she whispered, afraid to speak any
louder for fear her punishment would begin right here in the lobby of
this grand dwelling. At last the elevator arrived; thankfully empty
of humans to witness her shame and self-loathing.



They climbed on and rode silently to the penthouse; Dru controlling
herself with difficulty as she smelled the unforgettable scent of her
William, somehow human again. It was not possible, must be another
delusion of her troubled mind, and yet, she was certain that it was
indeed his scent. She'd have sworn she could never forget that
tantalizing smell—innocence and desire all melded together with mind-
breaking fear. It must be her William, mustn't it?



Angelus strode into the grand apartment, carelessly tossing his black
leather duster to a small female minion who hovered unobtrusively in
the hallway. He jerked his head at her and she flitted away, almost
as insubstantial as the ghosts that Drusilla often danced with
accompanied by harmonies of orchestras that played only in her mind.



"Come, Dru, and see what good games I have for you tonight," Angelus
ordered, and the dark vampire followed him through the hall of the
apartment to what was clearly the Master's bedroom. It stank of
fear, hate, pain, rage, and blood…all of it emanating from the
battered figure of her Spike!



He crouched, chained to the bedposts in a position that offered him
no chance of rest, no hope of sleep. His head hung down upon his
bloodied chest, his eyes closed and face weary. He was thin and
bruised, clearly beaten to within an inch of his unlife, for despite
the scent in the elevator, this was clearly Spike the vampire and not
William the human before her.



"Oh, my Spike, have you been a bad boy?" Dru asked, inching closer to
her once-love and reaching out a pale slender hand to stroke his face
gently.



Angelus slapped her away from his childe with one brutal hand, and
Dru fell heavily to the floor from the unexpected attack. Angelus
kicked her, hard, in the ribs with one leather boot and she felt ribs
shatter under his foot. He leaned upon her, grinding the ribs into
her unnecessary lungs until she spat blood upon the floor and mewled
in agony.



"Did I give you leave to touch him, Drusilla? Have you forgotten
every single lesson I taught you?" he hissed, his anger evident in
the deep scowl he bestowed upon her with yet another press of his
punishing boot.



"No, Daddy, no! I'm sorry," she gasped, awash in the pain he was
giving her. "Please, Daddy, I didn't mean anything by it," she
wheezed, blood dripping from her lips with every word.



"Stand up straight, Drusilla. I won't have you cowering…yet,"
Angelus spat, before turning his back on her and pacing to Spike.



The younger vampire was fully awake now, and staring at his sire with
swollen, hate-filled eyes. Angelus was glad to see the swelling had
gone down enough for Spike to see. It wouldn't do for him to miss
the show that was unfolding before him.



Angelus had adored tormenting Drusilla, but honestly, the excitement
had gone out of the act years earlier. But tormenting Spike by
tormenting Dru, now that never ceased to entertain. Angelus knew
just how much the younger vampire hated Drusilla's fixation on
her "Daddy," knew and exploited that hatred for his own evil
enjoyment.



"On your knees, Drusilla, and crawl to me…immediately," he hissed,
and his mad female childe hastened to obey. Crawling was difficult
for her in the ankle length dress she wore…as he knew it would be.



"I said immediately, Drusilla. Do you disobey me even in this
smallest matter?" Wretched girl, come here at once!"



Dru scurried as fast as she could on her knees, legs tangling in the
long, heavy cloth of her dress until she sprawled, not quite at
Angelus's feet, and gazed up at him with fear-filled eyes.



Angelus moved one foot to the pale, delicate hand that lay before him
and slowly ground his heel down upon it. Dru made no move to stop
him, only keening as he broke each knuckle and crushed the flesh to
pulp below his heavy foot.



"Stop it, you tosser," Spike groaned, anger filling him at the sight
of Dru suffering at the feet of their sire. "Punish me if you want,
but leave her out of this." The blond vampire could barely speak,
barely hold his head up, but he would, by god, protect his girl if he
possibly could. Of course, he recognized the futility of his
position immediately, but was honor-bound to attempt it regardless.



"Spikey, I'd forgotten that you could still speak. I *did* leave
that mouth curiously untouched. Perhaps there's something you'd like
to offer…some service you could render me to convince me of your
sincerity and desire to obey?" Angelus sneered at him and Spike knew
that he'd placed himself directly into the trap his sire had set for
him.



"For fuck's sake, Peaches, just do it already. But leave her alone…
please…Sire." The hated title slipped from his lips and Spike knew
himself well and truly whipped.



Angelus moved forward, leaving Drusilla behind to cradle her broken
hand in the other, untouched one. She keened quietly to herself
while rocking back and forth on the floor in a maddened haze of pain.



Angelus unclasped one manacle from Spike's wrist, allowing the arm to
fall to his childe's side. When he undid the other, Spike fell at
his feet, unable to even hold himself up after the days of starvation
and torture that Angelus had subjected him to. Spike tried to focus…
tried to pull himself upright to service Angelus as his sire so
clearly demanded, but the toll of his days of torment was too great
and he collapsed in a heap on the floor.



"Ah, Spike, I see you're still too good to offer me service as a sire
is due. Too high and mighty to offer obeisance in proper fashion?"
Angelus asked mockingly.



Spike groaned. The bastard had known all along that he was too weak
to service him. This elaborate ruse was just another mind-fuck.
Angelus loved those almost more than the real thing.



Angelus reached the boot that dripped Drusilla's blood to Spike's
mouth and ground it roughly into his teeth. Against his own will,
Spike's tongue reached out to lap at the blood there, spit polishing
the dark leather until it shone. Dru's blood revived him a bit,
enough to notice her nearly silent moans of pain. He glanced at her
and regretted it as he saw the agony his dark princess clutched to
herself.



Angelus nudged him harder with the boot and Spike resumed his tongue
polishing, going to his hands on the floor before his sire to give
the other boot equal treatment. His only hope was that humiliating
himself enough before the dark bastard would distract him from
Drusilla. It seemed to be working. Angelus wore a pleased smile and
tilted his boot for Spike to finish the job.



The dirt and grime from Angelus's hunt through the streets choked
Spike and he swallowed hastily, trying to bring more spit to his dry
mouth to ease the process. He gagged, surprised for a moment that
the reflex even remained, then lapped weakly once again at the boot
that filled his vision. At least now-a-days there weren't any horses
in the streets. He'd cleaned Angelus's truly vile leather boots this
way during his fledging and despised that memory for a century after
the bastard had disappeared.



"Ah, Spikey, you were always so good at that," Angelus gloated, as
Spike finished off the second boot, rubbing it with tongue and check
to give it the proper shine. "No one has the talent for boot-licking
that you do, my boy. I would have sired you for that alone. Course,
you weren't much good besides," he taunted merrily.



Spike bit back a retort with difficulty. Wouldn't do to piss off the
wanker now that he was in such pleasant spirits. His uncommon self-
restraint was fruitless, however. Angelus patted his head as if he
were some dog and strode to the armoire near the bed. He opened it,
pulled a metal choke collar from it and returned to fasten it about
Spike's neck. With nimble fingers, Angelus attached a heavy silver
chain, which was, in turn attached to a hook in the floor.



Turning his back upon his fair childe, Angelus paced to the still-
whimpering Drusilla. Grabbing her roughly, he pulled her to her feet
and stood her before him.



Dru cringed from him, still cradling her wounded hand against her
broken ribs. Angelus leaned in and kissed her softly, lapping gently
at the blood that had spilled from her mouth until she moaned in
helpless lust. He laughed at that and released her, striding once
more to the armoire to retrieve soft leather cuffs and a special
collar.



Angelus ripped the gown from her with one brutal pull, stripping the
delicate cloth from her with ease. Dru stood before him in nothing
but garter belt, stockings and bra…no panties to be seen. "At least
you learned that lesson well," he taunted, surveying her naked sex
with possessive eyes."



"Yes, Daddy. No knickers for your little girl…ever. Bad girls don't
wear dainty white knickers. Bad girls must always be ready for their
daddies." Dru recited, eerily reminiscent of an 8-year-old reciting
a nursery rhyme.



Angelus fastened first one and then the other soft leather cuff
around Dru's slender wrists. Automatically, she tilted her head
forward to receive the collar around her delicate neck, then drew
back and hissed as he pressed the soft leather to her. The neck
collar was different from the cuffs, very different. The exterior
was soft black leather, no different from the bracelets. But it was
lined with row upon row of tiny, pointed spikes, each no bigger than
a needle. The effect when the collar was loose was similar to the
prickles of a cactus upon the skin…unpleasant but only that. Angelus
wasn't satisfied with loose. He clasped the collar around Dru's
neck, tightening it slowly and driving every tiny spike into her skin
until a collar of blood appeared under the leather.



Dru shrieked in pain and attempted to pull away. The action only
drove more of the tiny spikes into her skin and she wailed in
helpless torment. Satisfied, Angelus slid the straps through the
hooks, fastening the collar snugly around the bleeding vampire's neck.



Angelus stepped back to properly appreciate the sight of Dru, white
skin now awash with red blood that ran down her chest to pool in the
lacy bra that she wore on her slender frame. "Now that is nice
jewelry," he complimented her, and Dru raised sad, suffering eyes to
him hesitantly.



"You…like it, Daddy? Do I look good now?" she whimpered, awash in
the pain that Angelus always brought her.



"Oh, princess, you look lovely. But that's a very vain question to
ask. Good little girls shouldn't care about their looks. They
should be neat and quiet and seen, but not heard, Drusilla. Now you
must be punished for that vanity. Do you understand me?" Angelus
asked gently, stroking the side of Drusilla's face with deceptive
tenderness.



"Yes, Daddy. I understand. Bad little girls must be punished. The
stars are angry and the fishies are singing."



Angelus moved back to the open armoire and pulled a long, heavy gold
chain from a shelf. It was attached to two tiny clamps, clamps with
spiked jaws. He walked to Dru and kissed her gently, stroking her
back with his free hand until she rubbed those small, lace-covered
breasts against him in excitement. He stripped the bra from her one-
handed with the skill of centuries of debauchery. Really, bras were
no challenge at all to a man who'd managed to unclasp corsets and
merry widows for decades.



Dru stood, near-naked and trembling, before him. Slowly Angelus
stroked one hard nipple. His girl was already so excited she could
barely contain herself, and she cooed with delight at his expert
caress. Angelus bent and sucked the dark rose nipple into his mouth,
teasing it gently between blunt teeth until Dru gasped at the
pleasure. Only then did he release her and cup her breast in his
hand, fastening the clamp onto her hardened nipple in one quick
motion.



Dru shrieked at the sudden pain where there had been only pleasure.
She tried to draw away from him, but Angelus attacked her other
nipple in one darting motion like a cobra striking. He pulled the
nipple and then most of the breast into his mouth, sucking at Dru
until she squirmed against him, awash in pain/pleasure and helpless
in their grasp. He snapped the other clamp onto her just as quickly
and grinned as she yelped in pain yet again.



Released from his hands, the heavy chain swung from the tight, biting
clamps and blood welled from each tiny pinprick, dripping slowly from
her tortured nipples to mix with the blood from her neck and trickle
down her flat belly, soaking into the garter belt and turning its
white satin a dark red within minutes.



Angelus drew one finger through the red stream that ran slowly down
Dru's white skin, gathering the blood onto it. He turned and
crouched before the broken figure of his male childe, waving the
finger under Spike's nose before thrusting it into his bruised mouth.



Spike sucked involuntarily on his sire's finger, drawing Dru's blood
from it and swirling his tongue around the digit with practiced
skill. He was rewarded by Angelus's distracted look, as the dominant
vampire's eyes glazed over for a moment in lust at the moist sucking
of his childe.



Spike suckled harder, certain that it was the only way to placate his
angry sire and equally certain that it wouldn't be enough. Nothing
was ever enough for Angelus…he always wanted more.



Sure enough, the dark vampire pulled his digit from Spike's mouth and
rose, moving once again to the tormented beauty who Spike had loved
for over a century.

Chapter 25

Tormenting Drusilla was great fun, Angelus thought, surveying the
lovely, blood-soaked canvas of her white skin. She was the height of
his art, his first creation, perfection in her visionary madness.
But she liked the pain too much for the dom in him to be truly
satisfied. Spike, on the other hand…Spike was far easier to torment,
now that Dru was here. Angelus turned back to the blond with a
predatory smile that turned into a smirk as he unfastened Spike's
wrists from the manacles that held him at the foot of the bed. The
younger vampire fell to the floor, barely conscious, once the
supports were withdrawn. The reinforced steel cuffs had cut deeply
into his wrists—bone was clearly visible in the bloodless wounds.

Drusilla shifted her weight from foot to foot, clearly wanting to
help Spike, but fearing the certain retribution of her Sire should
she do so. As she shifted, the cruel chain swung, tearing deeper
into her nipples with the sharp clamps and sending new drops of blood
dripping from the wounds. She whimpered as they did so.

"Dru!" Angelus snapped sternly at her. "No fidgeting. Properly
brought up young ladies do NOT fidget!"

"Yes, Daddy. I'm sorry, Daddy," her words tumbled over each other in
her haste to get them out. "Please don't be angry with me, Daddy."

Angelus finished turning Spike around, rechaining his wrists with the
blood-crusted manacles. The blond vampire now faced the huge four-
poster bed, suspended from the chains at its base. He looked
properly subservient, Angelus thought. Perhaps a little too
subservient. It was clear from the unfocused gaze of his Childe that
the Hunger had taken its toll upon him. He was no longer lucid
enough to suffer, at least not on any level but the gross physical
one. Angelus couldn't stand that limited an involvement…it was far
too…unsubtle.

He ripped into his own wrist with his fangs, then held the bloody
wound before his starving Childe. As he'd suspected, the younger
vampire was too Hungered to resist, and immediately latched onto his
Sire. The noisy sucking sound of Spike nursing at his wrist and the
erotic pull of his soft, cold mouth were perfectly arousing to the
Sire and he smiled in wicked anticipation. Spike was conscious now,
but not healed—perfect for Angelus's plans. He pulled away abruptly
and Spike yearned after the blood for a split second before morphing
back to human countenance and glaring sullenly at his Sire while
licking the last traces of his blood from his bruised lips.

"What, no thank you? Spikey, I'm hurt! Really…cut to the quick."
Angelus taunted, walking to Dru to allow her the same honor.

Spike watched with raw hatred in his eyes as Angelus pulled Dru onto
the bed. She lapped at his almost healed wound with delicate strokes
of her tongue and despite himself, Spike felt his cock rise in
response.

Dru cooed over the offering, sucking at the wound until it closed
completely. She knew better than to bite—Angelus had pulled her
fangs once early in her fledging for just such a transgression. It
had taken them nearly four long months to grow back…months when she'd
had to sharpen her fingernails daily to keep them keen enough to do
her bloodletting for her, a trick she still practiced today. Her
entire mouth had ached painfully until the fangs regrew.

She glanced up at Angelus from under her lashes, glad to see him
smiling benignly at her Of course, he smiled that way sometimes as
he beat her, too. Angelus was nothing if not unpredictable. He
nodded regally at her and she reached for his shirt with trembling
hands. She undid each button and spread the silk to bare his broad
chest, then slid it from his shoulders with sure, quick motions of
her slender hands. Angelus growled at her ministrations and she
hastened to undo his leather pants, sliding them off his hips along
with his steel-toed boots.

Naked, Angelus was an impressive creature, all muscular smoothness
and barely leashed power. He lay back on the bed, crossing his arms
indolently behind his head and smiling at her. "Play, Dru," he
ordered, and she didn't have to be told twice.

Dru stroked her hands from his broad shoulders down his arms, running
her razor sharp nails lightly across the skin and raising thin welts
that bled ever so slightly. Angelus hissed at the pain/pleasure,
then growled as she lapped lasciviously at the blood that barely
welled from the cuts. Dru followed the path up one arm and down the
other, then moved her sucking mouth back to the crook of his elbow,
pulling lightly at the tender skin there.

She watched his heavy lidded eyes carefully, desperate to please and
afraid that she might anger him if she presumed too much. Daddy had
beaten her before for playing too hard, not that he didn't seem to
enjoy it. She moved to straddle him, pressing her mouth hungrily to
his for long minutes of cold, passionate kisses as she shared his own
blood with him. At the barest beginning of a rumbling purr from the
big vampire, Dru slid down his torso, laving his nipples with her
mouth and plucking at them with avid hands.

She stroked his cock slowly with her other hand, pulling at it and
sliding back to the base again. She moved down, pressing wet, cold,
open-mouthed kisses to his turgid cock before engulfing it in her
mouth. Angelus growled at the sensation and Dru smiled around the
thick meat distending her mouth.

She looked up and met the eyes of…Spike. He hung there, his face a
study in angry aroused misery. Dru's innocently carnal expression
cut him to the quick—a far more effective punishment than the pain
that Angelus had heaped upon him since his latest turning. She was
clearly having a wonderful time.

*Daddy is letting me play and he's pleased with me,* she thought to
herself as she sucked avidly on the cock in her mouth while sliding
one hand lower to cup his heavy balls. *We shall have cakes and tea,
and dance in the silvery moonlight, yes.*

She moved gracefully up his body and straddled his hips, but before
she could engulf him in her cold, streaming pussy, Angelus reached up
abruptly and turned her so she faced Spike at the foot of the bed.

"Don't close your eyes, Spike," he ordered, and his Childe glared
briefly at him before turning his head to watch Dru.

She lowered herself slowly on Angelus's huge cock, hissing as it
stretched her. He'd turned her a virgin, only raping her afterward,
and she always healed back to that state. As she slowed—reaching the
renewed limit of her passage, she heard a rumble of displeasure begin
deep in his chest and she tensed with fright. He would hurt her, she
knew, if she didn't please him. He would hurt her sometimes whether
she did or no. She knew what he demanded, and pulled up again, only
to force herself all the way down upon him, screaming as she tore
herself open on his width.

Spike groaned at the look on her face. She came instantly from the
tearing pain and possession that their Sire demanded of her…came
harder for Angelus than she'd ever come for Spike. He wanted to turn
away, wanted to close his eyes against the sight of his first, his
eternal love, writing on their Sire's fat cock, but he couldn't.

Dru raised herself up and forced Angelus deeper and deeper into her
slender body with every plunge, and they both growled in passion when
they finally came, together.

Spike's humiliation was not yet complete, however. Angelus pushed
Dru's still quivering body off of himself and crawled to the foot of
the bed where he jammed his still stiff cock into Spike's bruised
mouth, forcing him to suck it clean.

Spike swallowed his Sire's cum mixed with Dru's blood and juices with
skill, if not enthusiasm, and Angelus chuckled, then undid the
younger vampire's manacles. He grabbed Spike by the back of the head
and jammed his face into Dru's sopping, bloody pussy, guiding
Spike's movements and forcing him to eat all of his Sire's spending
from her hungry nether mouth. The sight and sound aroused him again
and he determined to make Spike's punishment utterly complete.

He straddled the blond vampire and forced his legs apart. With no
warning or preparation, Angelus thrust into Spike's tight ass,
spearing the blond on his hard cock. Spike groaned in pain at the
brutal thrusting of his Sire—his torn ass hadn't recovered from
previous buggerings. There was no pleasure in this for him—Angelus
wouldn't allow it. Only pain, flaring in red hot bands around his
torn asshole and deep inside as Angelus tore him open again.

The degradation of his Childe complete, the Sire concentrated on the
feeling of Spike's blood-slicked passage clamping down on him as the
spasms of pain massaged his cock. It was a completely exhilarating
sensation and the sadistic vampire reveled in it utterly. Dru
watched with wide eyes, her gaze flickering from Angelus to Spike and
back again as the larger vampire rode the smaller—forcing pain-
wracked moans from him with nearly every brutal thrust.

Angelus reached for Spike, pulling him up against his cold chest and
running one possessive hand over the chiseled planes of his Childe's
blood spattered body. Spike didn't even try to fight—his shame-
filled eyes met Dru's for a long moment before he closed them in
resignation.

The buggering went on and on without end and Spike knew there was
only one way to get it to stop. His demon screamed within him,
raging against the assault upon its dominance, but slowly he bent his
head, tilting it to one side and exposing his neck to his Sire.

Angelus licked him once in pleasure at the submissive gesture, then
slid his hand lower to cup Spike's balls. The skilled caress of Sire
hands soon had the Childe groaning in a different kind of pain as his
demon surrendered to sensation. Angelus fucked him faster and
caressed his now hard cock at the same time.

The copious pre-cum coated Angelus's hand, easing the friction on
Spike's cock and increasing his pleasure ten-fold. He moaned with
need and Angelus smirked—victory complete. He sucked lightly on
Spike's neck, teasing the sensitive skin there with his cold tongue,
and he felt Spike's cock jump in his hand. Satisfied that his Childe
was, for the time being, totally submissive, the elder vampire sank
fangs abruptly into the blond's neck. As he sucked, they both
spilled at the powerful, overwhelming sensation, locked together in
pleasure/pain and dominance/submission.

His spasms of pleasure done, Angelus pulled out of Spike's bloody,
battered ass, and Spike moaned with pain at the movement. Angelus
stood, watching an angry tear of shame spill from one of Spike's blue
eyes. Lesson learned. He laughed heartily and smiled at Dru with
good will.

"Get dressed, you two," he ordered as he strode to the
shower. "We've got a Slayer to hunt."


Author's Page