Chapter 7


Whoever it was lurking about 1630 Revello Drive was about to feel the wrath of a very pissed off Cockney. First off, disrupting him when he was with his lady was punishable by various types of torture. Second, trying to catch a peek of Buffy and him while having sex and other naughty romps was not acceptable, unless said person was somebody Spike would thoroughly enjoy ticking off. Third, and most important, he was still semi hard, his cock had been throbbing, yearning to slam into Buffy's warmth, over and over until he was dizzy and then repeat the process till his muscles would allow it no more. Thanks to whomever, it looked as if tonight he would be accompanied by only his right hand.

Spike was kicking himself for leaving the girl behind as he kept a steady pace through the yard. That was the last thing he wanted to do, but the hairs on the back of his neck were standing. There was a familiar sense that clued him in about watchful eyes, and once Spike saw the shadows move, he was convinced the eerie shiver running down his spine was alerting him of a family member nearby. For that reason, he didn’t want to worry Buffy, in case it was Drusilla making a guest appearance, or his git of a grandsire alerting of danger.

They were still close, and by the time Spike reached the alley, he was positive they were stalking him from the cover of the darkness. He spoke out loud in monotone, not shouting, as Buffy might hear, “Don’ know what game you’re playin’ at mate, but you best let yourself be known.”

“No game, William.”

That voice. The old English accent. The way he was referred to by his given name. No, it couldn’t be. Could it?

“Colton?”

Finally, he revealed himself by stepping out from his hiding place and into the pale lit alleyway. The image he presented was a pristine handsomeness delivered by his sharp dress, broad shoulders, and squared jaw. An Armani suit clung to his strapping frame, complimenting his hazel eyes and dark auburn hair. “So, it’s true then old friend...”

Spike was still shocked as hell to see him, “What’s it you’re goin’ on ‘bout?”

Colton grinned wickedly, “You. William the Bloody, human? With the Slayer no less. I had to see it with my own eyes.”

The once Big Bad hadn’t been alive for even a full day yet and the news had already spread? Buffy was the only one who found out and he had not talked with anyone else. Plus, Colton, of all vampires, dared showing his face in Spike’s town? All this added up, equaled not good.

“Look Colt, you got it all wrong.” Better to spin the truth if he wanted behind the scheme. “An’ why is it you’re in my bloody city?”

“Can I not greet my own sire once a decade?” Colton questioned back in a polite manner.

****

England, 1880

“We don’t keep you ‘round here for nuthin’! Go on then!” Colton was shoved towards the door of the town’s most famous pub.

Walking up the few steps slowly and looking back at a cross armed Lytton, he meekly stammered, “I’ll do what I can.”

“Ay, you better!”

Grabbing the lapels of his jacket, tugging to straighten out the wrinkles, he entered the bar cautiously. Lytton had decided the easiest way for Colt to obtain money or other valuables that could be fenced for cash, was by stealing it from men that were highly intoxicated. The busiest tavern in town was the first place thought of.

The tables were filled with cigar smoking gentlemen, amusing themselves with mature, sophisticated jokes he didn’t find humorous. He was making his way to the bar counter, thinking it would be the best part of the parlor to scout from, when he was shoulder checked by a new arrival.

“Excuse me,” were the first words pouring from Colt’s mouth, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he was the one saying it. He wasn’t the one who ran into him. The man didn’t say anything in return, just kept moving to the corner table in the back, where a game of poker was being held. Colton ordered his drink from the tender, but as he reached into his jacket pocket to retrieve payment, his money clip was missing. A bit frantic, he whirled around, searching the floors before resting his eyes on the patron taking a seat at the corner table.

It was the one who’d smashed into his shoulder moments before, and he was tossing paper bills onto the table top for the game’s buy in from Colton’s billfold. The feeling was terrible, getting thieved from when he was supposed to be the sly one stealing? The fact that he never liked the idea of taking what wasn’t his just added to his shame. Everyone was sure he’d end up a failure, and here he was, living up to that expectation. There was absolutely nothing he had a talent for. Anger and self-pity set in as the taunting memories made themselves known again.

“That’s mine!” He yelled out, gaining unwanted attention from everyone but the man sitting with his back to him. Storming over to the game of cards, reaching over the crooks shoulder to take back what belonged to him, “I said, that’s mine!”

Before his fingers could curl around the bills, his wrist was seized tightly in mid-air. “I believe you may be mistaken.” His tone, like his grip was firm.

“No, that is clearly my possession. It has my name engraved in it.” Acting tough and fierce was never his forte, and he hated looking so weak.

The man finally turned his head, peering over his shoulder at Colton, “Its engraved William.”

With a harsh pull of his arm, he was able to free his wrist, but not without making a scene. He stumbled back into a chair, tripping onto the floor. Laughter bellowed out of every pair of lungs there, so he scrambled to his feet before high tailing it to the exit.

Colton made it to the side of the building, leaning against its stone wall, kicking at the dirt. The sting of tears threatened to spill out, so he squeezed his eyes shut to prevent them from coming. One humiliating night had summed up his pathetic excuse of existence, showing him how he’d never amount to anything. Crying would only worsen the situation, so he took in a deep breath, willing himself to stop.

That William will need to leave, and when he does, I’ll be sure to be there.

By the time William came sauntering out, it was well past the midnight hour. Colton decided to follow him to a more inconspicuous area; he trailed after for nearly ten minutes before the man wandered into a back pathway.

“I would like my clip back, sir,” trying his best to stand firm and not shake, as if he was a scared puppy with his tail between his legs.

William slowed to a stop, turning around as a smirk spread across his lips, “Oh?”

“Tis’ rightfully mine,” Colton ground out, and he cocked his arm back, swinging it wildly at Will.

His closed fist was caught, and William twisted it behind his back, slamming his face into the brick siding of the nearest building. A streak of blood emerged from a fresh scrape on his cheek and he couldn’t help but whimper some.

"I know who you are," William said, pressing harder on his arm.

It was as if the bone was splintering slowly through his skin and would soon snap completely. "Ahh! W-what?" Struggling was no use, the man was like steel and Colton couldn't get him to budge.

"God's disgrace. Lost cub with only Mother's approval." A dry chuckle cut through the night's silence, "Poor sap's the flunkie! Fancy a second chance then?"

"I'm not- Gahh!" In an instant, a blood curdling yell tore from his throat.

Something sharp tickled his neck, and then started to sink in, a slow intense sting set in before his flesh had been broken and torn into, rich thick blood gushed out, dribbling down his chest. The pain was excruciating, but the screams never surfaced due to the extremity clasped over his mouth. Adrenaline rushed through his veins, flooding his system, but waned just as quickly as the creature behind him drank his fill. All attempts to wriggle away had failed; the alley was spinning around him as the world was beginning to go black. Thoughts of making an action made no connection, as he went limp in his executioner’s arms.

He could still feel the fangs retract as his body proceeded to shut down. There was something plush and wet he could feel pushing against his lips, all functions were gone, but William calmly ordered, “Drink.”

A syrupy fluid splashed on his tongue, the taste of copper filled his mouth, and he swallowed. Energy soared through him with the tiniest bit, imagine what more could do. So he drank. Mouthfuls of the liquid coated his throat, charging his system with power he never knew existed, it became an addiction and he couldn’t stop. Within moments the fuel ended, and once again, the scene blackened before him.

Dust particles danced in streams of light shining through gaps in the wooden slats of the barn he awoke in. He felt strong, refreshed, and most of all, significant. He had been nothing but pathetic before, and now the world was his. William was the savior that provided new life. He would learn from his procreator, how to utilize this new incredible essence, to become part of the true dominators who walk this earth.





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