The two master vampires grappled for control of the conflict, in the center of the room, while the Slayer did her best to simply stand back and watch – though she knew that if it looked for even a moment like Spike was in any *real* danger, she would have no choice but to step in.
Angel’s safety was a non-issue to her, at the moment.
Besides, she could feel what her mate was thinking and feeling, and she knew that Spike had no intention of actually killing his sire. Despite the painful history he had with Angelus, despite the mating claim with her that had considerably weakened his bond with his sire – Spike still would not have actually killed Angel, unless he had no other choice. To kill one’s own sire was a crime that few vampires would venture to attempt – and for Spike, this was not so much about his opponent’s death, as it was about his own victory.
The same could not be said for Angel.
The golden gleam in his feral eyes said that he had every intention of fighting until Spike was dust, and Buffy was free from his claim.
Never mind whether or not Buffy *wanted* to be free of the claim.
At the moment, however, it did not appear that it was even going to be a possibility. Spike was firmly holding the upper hand, and was determined not to let it go, as he rained blow after powerful blow upon the one he once would not have dared to resist, let alone to strike. Angelus had taken many things from Spike during his younger years – but now he was determined to take them all back.
“You know,” he sneered, smirking at the older vampire who stood near the wall Spike had just thrown him into, trying to catch his breath. “There’s just one thing I’m still trying to figure out, Peaches.” His golden eyes flashed fury, in spite of his light, mocking tone, as he went on, “…whether you’re more insanely jealous over losing rights to *Buffy* forever – or me…”
He shrugged, a light of triumphant amusement in his eyes as they met his sire’s enraged gaze. “Doesn’t matter really. Got no rights to either of us anymore.”
With a feral snarl, Angel rallied his strength and lunged for the blonde vampire, not even bothering to attempt to discount any of his words.
“I’ll kill you!” he vowed furiously. “Then we’ll see about that, Spike! Buffy will be free of your claim, and whatever thrall you’ve got on her that’s keeping her from seeing the truth about you – and I’ll be free of *you*!”
“That really what you want, Peaches?” Spike taunted him, his piercing blue eyes seeing enough in Angel’s expression to make the older vampire seriously uncomfortable. “Because I don’t think you *want* me dead…I think what you want is…”
His words were cut off as Angel’s weight slammed into him, knocking him to the ground; but he quickly managed to reverse their positions, using the leverage provided by his position to pin his larger sire to the floor beneath him.
“I could care less what happens to you, Spike,” Angel ground out through gritted teeth, his arms trembling with the as-yet futile effort to break his childe’s hold. “All I care about is setting Buffy free from your thrall…”
“Please!” Spike sneered with a disbelieving laugh, incredulous eyes searching Angel’s even as he struggled to hold him down. “*What* bloody thrall? All the girl needed to do to want *me* was to bloody well *wake up*! To want you…” He frowned thoughtfully before shrugging it off and finishing with a grin, “Well – she’ll *never* want you!”
“Shut *up*!” Angel nearly screamed in his fury and frustration, as he finally managed to free one hand, landing a vicious punch across Spike’s ridged face, and using the opportunity to roll them over again.
Buffy recoiled slightly from the out-of-control, violent rage she heard in his voice – and then found herself stepping instinctively forward at the sight of the powerful blow. If Spike was actually in danger, she would leap into the fight without hesitation – Spike’s manly pride notwithstanding.
But her mate was clearly more than capable of holding his own, she realized with a surge of pride of her own, as he easily returned Angel’s blow, even from his position on his back on the floor, then threw the older vampire backward off of him with a snarl.
As both vampires leapt to their feet again, he sneered, “Yeah – that’s the funny thing about the truth, in’nit, mate? Stings a bit, yeah?” As he spoke, Angel lunged for him again – but Spike ducked quickly out of his path, catching him in the back with a savage kick that sent him sprawling to the floor on his face.
Spike wasted no time; in the next instant, he was upon Angel again, pinning him to the ground, as he growled softly in his ear, “Things could be different this time around, yeah? All previous claims on *me* -- including your bloody sire’s rights – don’t bloody well count anymore…I *can’t* ever be put under a dominance claim again.”
He paused for effect, a wicked grin spreading across his face as he added, “You, on the other hand – are still bloody well fair game, ‘s far as I can tell, Peaches…”
The sharp gasp that left Angel’s throat at those words betrayed his fear at such a thought – and the soft, chilling growl that he let out the next moment made the younger vampire freeze – just for a moment – as a century-old memory assailed his mind…
“You think you can take me, boy?” the dark vampire’s voice was soft, deadly, as he closed in slowly on the frightened childe before him.
“No – no, sire,” William whispered, shaking his head, looking away, pressed back as far against the wall as he could go, a look of stark terror on his face at his sire’s advance. “I didn’t – I didn’t mean to…”
“By all means, William,” Angelus countered, as if William had not spoken at all, as he patiently closed the gap between them, placing his huge hands on the wall on either side of the boy’s head – hemming him in, “you’re more than welcome to try.”
The cruel, dangerous glint of sadistic pleasure in his eyes, the soft black satin of his voice, so deceptively gentle, only served to increase William’s terror – and his sire relished every morsel of it.
The defiant game face that had emerged, unbidden, at the sight of what Angelus had been doing to Dru – for once *against* her will – had by this point receded completely; and all that was left was the frightened, helpless slave that Angelus had made of him, now trembling before his master – his sire – his claimant.
“No – I don’t want to – I mean – I wasn’t trying to…”
The harsh, almost casual backhand across his face was much less forceful than Angelus’ blows usually were – but it was still enough to drive William’s head back against the unyielding stone wall behind him, and effectively silence his stammered, desperate explanations.
“Go on, boy – try it,” Angelus goaded him, his voice bordering on a whisper – yet so cold, so deadly – so very powerful. “You know you want to…”
This game – whatever it was, this time, that his sire had in mind – had the young vampire’s entire body shaking with dread, panicked at the position he was in. He knew full well that if he did as Angelus was suggesting and tried to fight back, he could be ordered to stillness with a single word – making him even more helpless than he already was at this moment.
But if he disobeyed…
“How far do you think I’d let you take it, Will? Hmm?” Angelus pressed, moving in closer to William’s throat, his own fangs glistening menacingly, inches from the boy’s vulnerable flesh. “A bit closer than this, maybe?”
William flinched involuntarily, jerking away – and the master vampire immediately grabbed him by the hair and slammed his head back against the wall mercilessly – not sparing his strength this time. He dropped the calm, patient façade for a moment to snarl in his childe’s face, “Do *not* pull away from me, boy!”
“I’m sorry – please – I’m sorry,” William pleaded, frozen by the command, the icy fingers of panic closing slowly around his still heart at the realization that he *couldn’t* move away from his sire’s deadly fangs.
“Think I’d let you actually touch me?” Angelus sneered. His hard hand in William’s hair jerked his head to the side, exposing his mark of dominance on his throat – now throbbing with the pain caused by his claimant’s rage – as his other hand found his childe’s hip, pulling him firmly against him, revealing to him that the desire he had left unfulfilled when he had interrupted Angelus and Drusilla was still very much present.
“Please – please, don’t,” William begged him, his face streaked with tears that pressed past his closed eyelids to run down his cheeks, mingling with the blood from his lip, already broken by Angelus’ fist.
“Look at you!” he sneered. “Crying, cringing like a pathetic little – well, *human*! And you think you could actually have challenged me?” His tone was incredulous, amused even – but still full of that dangerous, sadistic quality that sent a chill through William’s undead heart, at the knowledge of how much he was enjoying his pain, his terror.
“No – no, I never thought that…” he insisted. “Please, please, sire, I’m sorry…”
Angelus released his grip on his hair, edging back just a bit, as he ordered softly, “Come on, William. Do it.”
The trembling vampire shook his head, his eyes closed and downcast, as he whispered, “No – no, I’m sorry – please – I didn’t mean to…”
“Did you hear me, William?” the calm, soft voice held a note of deadly menace to it that froze William in his place.
He looked up at his sire, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. “W-what…?”
“I said *do it*, William!” Angelus snarled, closing on him again. “Do it! Let me show you what a pathetic, worthless excuse for a vampire you really are, you little *nothing*!”
William flinched from the rage in his sire’s voice, drawing back against the wall, shaking his head in denial. He knew now what Angelus’ game was – and he knew that there was no way he could possibly win it.
“Please don’t – please, sire, don’t make me…”
“William…”
“I’m yours – I know it – you don’t have to – please…” William desperately bared his throat to his sire again, desperate to prove his submission.
“William,” Angelus took the single step required to bring him back into William’s personal space, leaning in close to meet his terrified eyes, “Don’t make me tell you again.”
Aware that it was his own doom he was sealing, but having no other choice, William forced his other face to the forefront, lunging half-heartedly toward his sire – and as he had expected, was immediately thrown to the ground under the larger vampire’s hulking weight…beaten viciously with his fists…torn at with his fangs…until he could offer no more resistance, had he even had the will to try.
Lowering his fangs to the sobbing, broken boy’s throat, Angelus ordered, “Look at me.”
William obediently met his eyes, his own wide and brimming with fresh tears – and he saw the malevolence, the cruelty there – knew that Angelus was not through punishing him yet.
“Please,” he whispered. “No -- *please*…”
“Mine, William – you’re *mine*!” Angelus snarled, painfully wrenching his head to the side, and plunging his fangs into his throat without pity, tearing at the throbbing mark of his possession, punishing him as he pulled viciously from his blood, deliberately causing him as much pain as possible, using the bond to express completely his rage, his utter displeasure with his childe.
A last, strangled cry of desperate agony tore from the younger vampire’s throat as he sobbed out, “No…please, sire…please…”
“*Don’t* -- please, Spike – don’t!” Angel gasped out – and the plea that seemed so familiar, coinciding with his own remembered voice in his mind, dragged Spike out of the memories that had momentarily consumed him.
He froze, taking in the situation he was in – realizing that he had not moved an inch from the position he had been in. He was staring down at the older vampire’s throat, his fangs poised over his flesh, ready for the victorious bite that would bring Angel under subjection.
But – was that what he *wanted* to do?
Spike drew back slightly, gripping Angel’s shoulder and turning him over so that he could look into his eyes – the eyes of the vampire who had tortured and demeaned him for twenty years – now staring up at him fearfully, full of the same helpless panic that he had felt himself for all that time.
*Only – no,* he corrected himself grimly in his mind. *Not the same. I’ve never been the bloody sadist that Angelus was.*
He drew back again, somewhat reluctantly, rising up off of his sire, looking down with admitted satisfaction at the sight of the bruised, bloodied vampire, now trembling with the fear of what Spike had almost done to him. Angel’s eyes were wide, staring up at Spike as if not quite sure yet that he had decided *not* to humiliate him further, slowly wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.
A slow, soft release of a bated breath, a sound of obvious relief, drew Spike’s attention from his sire to his mate, who as he did, slowly raised her eyes from the fallen vampire on the floor, to meet his over a soft smile.
She was standing to the side, having watched the fight carefully, and he could see the troubled expression that was jus now fading from her eyes as she realized that he did not intend to finish what he had almost done.
She knew that Angel would deserve it if Spike *did* decide to bring him under a dominance claim – or to end his life, for that matter.
That didn’t mean she wanted to watch it happen.
Spike looked back down at his sire, whose expression spoke of resignation, defeat, acceptance that Spike had won the fight – but still a good measure of jealousy, anger, and resentment that the prize would never be his.
“She’s mine, Peaches,” Spike finally said, his tone frank and matter-of-fact, echoing the thoughts that were so clear on Angel’s face. “And – and I’m hers. You’re simply out of the equation, mate. And as long as you see fit to *stay* out of it – I’ll see fit to let you live.”
Angel looked away from him, as he pulled himself weakly to his feet, bracing himself against the wall. He could not bring himself to respond – had no idea what to say – and his demon was raging at him to fight, to not quit yet. Spike had not finished it – he could still…
*No,* Angel told himself firmly, fighting it back. *Leave him be…you’ve done enough damage…*
There was a look in his childe’s eyes -- behind the calm, confident composure that made a part of Angel proud, in spite of himself – the faintest hint of the broken, wounded creature that he had once been, that Angel had once *made* him.
Angel’s soul despised the thought of doing him any further damage.
But his demon clamored furiously for the destruction of the insolent boy who had defied his sire and taken what was once his.
“You know,” Spike could not resist a parting shot, unaware of the inner battle still raging within his sire. He turned to face Angel momentarily, before moving toward Buffy’s side. “You once told me something about the Slayer – something I used to hurt her a few weeks back…”
Buffy’s slight flinch revealed that in spite of all that had happened since her fight with Spike, just before he had been chipped, she still remembered exactly what he was talking about.
“You were wrong,” Spike went on, turning to face Buffy, his expression soothing as he met her eyes. “Seems to me, *you’re* the one that wasn’t worth a second go…but then – I could have told *her* that…”
Even as he mocked his sire, he searched his mate’s eyes a bit anxiously, unsure if what he had said had served to help or to hurt her injured feelings, still vulnerable at his recent reminder of Angel’s cruel treatment of her feelings, years earlier.
*I was a stupid git to ever tell her about that,* he thought. *Now she probably thinks she’s…*
Buffy’s suddenly wide-eyed, fearful expression was the first clue he had that something was wrong – and in the next moment, his sire’s bulk hit him full force from behind, slamming him to the ground and raining blows upon him.
His jaw setting in determination, eyes narrowing in righteous fury, Spike managed to wrench his body upward and throw his opponent off of him, and a few feet away, before throwing himself back into the fight with renewed vigor. This was a fight he was more determined than ever to win.
Those final incensing words had made Angel angry enough to lose the fragile control he had been clinging to – and now, Spike was no longer dealing with Angel.
Angelus was in control, for the moment.
*Bloody fine with me,* he thought grimly. *Means I don’t have to hold back…*
Yes, he thought with a sinister smile. That was just fine with him.
His vengeance was at hand.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
WARNING: implied references to past sexuality between Spike and Angelus, rape, abuse...though not graphic, very implied, and very *past*... :)