Chronos' Puppet

The trip was not what Spike had been expecting when he stepped through the gate. He
had been picturing one of those 'worm-hole' things that the whelp had practically
indoctrinated him on with all those marathon viewings of 'Stargate SG1'. This 'gating'
was an altogether completely different experience. It was really like stepping through a
door...if the step included being flashed in the eyes with the light of a million suns.

"Jesus Christ!" The curse echoed in the vast space as the vampire reeled, his eyes trying
to readjust in vein. Disoriented, Spike reached out for the first object near him before he
fell on his ass, and found a solid mass pushed into his palm. Xander moved Spike's hand
up to his shoulder from his biceps, and led him further into the cavernous room.

"I should have told you to close your eyes," the baritone voice had a grin to it and Spike
pushed off the supporting shoulder with an indignant rub to his eyes. The gesture
reminded Xander of a sleepy child disturbed from a nap which made his grin grow wider.

"I know yer grinnin' over there, whelp. 'S not funny."

Petulant even. Cute.

"Aww, come on Spike. It'll wear off in a bit." True to his sire's words Spike found he
could start to distinguish figures in the shadows of the cavern thanks to his vampiric
speed in recuperation. He stretched is senses out and found other vampires lurking
nearby, tension and curiosity intermingling delicately from them. His muscles grew
taunt, ready for a fight with whomever surrounded them and found that the circle of
vampires started to grow tighter.

Minions. Dozens of them. All with Xander's scent. The notion itself was terrifying.

Xander, meanwhile was speaking to the crowd and they listened raptly to the strange
gibberish that spewed from his lips. Some sort of Asian dialect that Spike couldn't
discern. One more blink, and Spike could finally see what encircled him. The minions
were dressed like his maker, decked out in black to hide better in the shadows, but
unmasked in this den they had made. His ears had discerned correctly about the cave,
Xander's words bouncing easily off the crags and stalagmites that decorated the space as
his minions set to following his orders. They started packing weapons - many, shiny,
pointy things that nearly set Spike salivating with unholy glee - laptops, books, and what
looked like monitoring gear. "I'm impressed, pet. Looks like you got yourself a nice
little set up out here."

The commotion among the other vampires quieted considerably as they worked, each
straining to hear the conversation between their master and his long sought-after childe.
Xander turned to the blonde, all good humour dropped from his face. "Spike, remember
your place. You will call me 'Sire' ". He didn't want his dominion here questioned,
especially in front of his minions. These vampires were unlike the Sunnydale lot. They
were made for purpose; trained to be deadly and loyal to death. For this reason their
intelligence was kept in tact with a turning that used more blood then for a normal
minion, but still not enough for the making of a 'childe'. If Spike showed any disrespect,
especially in hostility, they would want to dust the new vampire for the good of the clan.

Of course, Spike knew nothing of this. Minions were, after all, minions to him. "Oh no,
pet. I've already one Sire that buggered me over and I don't need another in my life to
screw it up. I've agreed to come with you, but I won't submit to you or your lot. I came
to hear what's what, but not to be your sycophant. I'll listen to what you have to say then
go on my merry way, yeah?"

"Childe...you can't leave. You've seen to much as it is. I can't let you go." The minions
started to move in, closing the ranks as they sensed their master's concern. Xander swept
his gaze over the circle of vampires. "And they're not going to be too happy if you try."

Spike snorted in laughter at the threat, trying to buy some time as he mentally calculated
his chances of escape. "What, you can't control your own minions? You'd let them kill
your own childe? Some master you are, can't even keep a tight reign on your..." Before
he could continue he found skidding across the gritty floor, his cheek stinging from the
backhand he had received. "Not so different from Angelus, I see." qhe quipped.

"Quiet!"

"Make me."

If Xander was exasperated, he didn't show it. The coldness in his eyes mirrored the stone
walls surrounding them and he nodded. "I would have thought you had enough of getting
your ass kicked back at the cemetery, but if you want me to do it again, then let's do it.
Get up."

"Will you stop ordering around?! I'm not your bloody pet!" Spike jumped to his feet,
unconsciously shifting into a sideways stance against his maker.

"You're my Childe, Spike! You'll do what I say."

"You earn that right, Whelp. Told ya, I ain't going down to bow to yer wishes."

"Fine." An order was barked to one of the minions, who ran off and retrieved two
swords. They were both katanas, very ancient by the looks of them and the minion
handed his master the one with an ornate, ivory handle. 'Xander's personal sword'
surmised the blonde. He himself was handed a plain one, the minion barely suppressing a
growl at his master's unruly offspring before returning to his place. Looking around the
circle, Spike realised the mess his prideful tongue had gotten himself into. Two dozen
pairs of gleaming, golden eyes stared at the two vampires in the centre of the makeshift
'ring', awaiting the outcome of the duel and none of them looked concerned for their
master. They didn't doubt that the strange newcomer would end up in bloody pieces on
the floor by the end of this.

Well, if he was going to go out, he was going to do it in style. "Bring it on, pet."