Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 12
Disclaimer: ATS and BTVS are not mine....


It was a stand off of sorts. The team of Angel Investigations (sans Angel of course), the Slayer and her Watcher, arrayed against the vampire and his brand new thralls.

Buffy scowled, fists tight, not willing to look at Angel, not directly, she kept her eyes on Riley, then on Xander, and when his hyena face creeped her out, back to Riley, which wasn't any better because looking at him *hurt* just that little bit more than looking at Angel did. Two swords twisting in her guts. Her breathing had a hitch, then she got it under control. Angel was standing there. His dark eyes waiting. Sneering at her.

Angel, with his *thing* hanging out. The part of him that had once been hers. Hers to touch, hers to feel inside of her body. Hers and no one else's. But, he had left her. Without a backwards glance. And now he was showing everyone his thing. As if it was no big deal. Though it was. A big deal. A very big deal. She shivered and refocused, as Giles came up behind her. Laid a hand on her back, just finger tips, the other hand full of his cross.

Angel had lost his soul over her, but he left her once he got it back. Broke her heart. Told her it was the only way, that he couldn't be with her. Or he'd be Angelus again, so he said. But Willow, she had cemented his soul, locked it to him forever, and he still had not come back to her. Said he couldn't. Not ever.

But now, he could be with *her* lover, Riley, and Xander, her friend, and Graham.... He could be with them. Do those things with *them*, but not her. They had him now. They touched him, they had him touch them. They had sex with him. Angel lay down with them, he had been on top of Graham just a second ago. Graham could have Angel, but Buffy had to stay back. No Angel for her.

And she....she had lost her new lover to her ex-lover. He stole Riley from her. Vindictive, hateful prick. Her sinuses stung with the prequel to crying. She blinked her eyes rapidly, tears weren't good when you were fighting, or might be fighting soon. Tears made it hard to see. She felt Giles, always sensitive to her moods move up, closer, almost too close, it might slow her down if he was in the way like this. His fingers were still there, steadying her.

Angel just leaned on Riley and Xander, facing them all, with his golden gaze slitted, angry, hot. His chin coated with blood, the soldier-boy's blood. He turned his head and ran his cheek over Xander's shoulder, leaving a trail of Graham's blood behind.

Xander never flinched. Buffy flinched for him. Xander growled, his eyes not leaving the massed forces in front of them, but he turned his head, sniffed, extended a long, very not-Xander tongue and licked at the thickening blood. First the blood on his shoulder, then the blood on Angel's face. His eyes were hardly the kind brown, uncertain eyes of Xander, they were the yellow eyes of the hyena. His face, the snarling snout of a canid.

Wesley shuddered. He was well aware of that little interlude, the hyena spirit that had taken over Xander while he was still at Sunnydale High. But, he had not suspected that the curse was still in effect. No one had told him that, Giles, the SOB, hadn't mentioned it at all. Then Wes looked at Giles, saw the other man's absolute shock, the tremble of the hand holding his substantial wooden cross, the hard clenched jaw, and realized, Giles hadn't known either. OK, fine, so Giles wasn't keeping important secrets to himself. Or not this particular secret.

Graham finally manged to fasten his pants flipping around on the bed. It didn't hide his state of arousal, but at least he was covered. He went forward cautiously, up behind Angel. His arms, bare and muscular, tanned brown went around the taller man's hips. He carefully tucked Angel in, and fastened the vampire's pants. Angel let him, moving enough so that Graham had to handle him more than should have been necessary, if he'd just held still. Doyle swallowed loudly back in the pack.

Graham moved to stand behind Riley, his face neutral. He nodded at Giles, at Buffy, who couldn't meet his eyes, who's gaze skittered over the tanned, grey eyed face, like skipping stones over the surface of a lake.

Cordy cleared her throat.

Buffy frowned harder.

Giles opened his mouth, would have said something, only Riley beat him to it.

"We told you to leave." Riley said, and Buffy's eyes flashed up to his face. "You really should go, Buff. I am sorry." He made no move to go to her, and his voice was not welcoming, not soft, not caring. Not her lover. He spoke to her like there was nothing left between them, like they had not been in bed together a week or so ago. Like they had not made love. She blinked harder. No. She wasn't going to cry. She was going to yell. Yelling was better.

"Why?" She asked *him*, voice full of fury. "Why couldn't you tell me, before you did this? Warn me? You could have called, told me to come and get them. I would have come, we would have," she said, meaning her and Giles. Of course she knew who's fault it really was.

"If you are talking to me, I didn't know before it happened." Angel threw back at her, curling his right arm in hard, and pulling Riley in to his body, until they were pressed together all along their sides. "Someone, not me, dumped them all primed and ready to go, on my doorstep. And you are thinking it is *my* fault. Not this time, little girl. I know different. The Initiative did this to me. I am a victim. You are supposed to be on my side, this time, Slayer." His almost wry smirk said he understood the irony.

"You could have called me..." Buffy said, her voice full of anguish.

"And you would ride to the rescue? It was too late. Ask your Watcher. They were mine already. Or they were dead meat if I didn't take them. Dead. Nothing to be done. I tried to kill them, I..." for the first time the vampire's voice wavered, uncertain, and he stopped speaking. He had tried not to accept them, he had tried to let them die, to help them die. But it was impossible. They were his. Marked, his blood scent on them. In them. He had to feed from them. Like they had to breathe.

"Angel!" It was Cordelia, stepping forward, moving close, foolishly thinking she was safe with her little silver cross winking at her throat. Angel just shook his head. None of them knew. Not the researchers, the Watchers, or his own team of Angel Investigations. They didn't know what some stupid bitch-doctor had done to him, to his thralls, to Los Angeles. Ghod, it would be fun to tell them. But, even better to let them find it out for themselves, bit by bit.

"Yes, Cordelia?" Angel answered her. His smile was barely there, a ghost.

"What is going on?" She asked in the particularly complaining tone she had when she wasn't up to speed on what was going down. The expression on Angel's face wasn't right.

"You mean now? Right now? Or when the lot of you busted down my door to my *private* rooms and interrupted me fucking MY thralls?" Angel asked her sweetly, recovering his composure along with his anger. Buffy went pale. Cordelia went dark red. Fuck if there wasn't almost steam coming out of her ears.

Riley made a sound much like a stifled groan, stifled because Angel still had him pressed in tight, face to the vampire's neck. A good place to be, a place he would be happy to be, if the others weren't watching him with all that stunned horror. If he wasn't so embarrassed. He smelled Angel's scent. His cool skin was just under his mouth. A great place to be, except when your very recently ex-girlfriend was standing a few yards away, staring, trying to pretend there weren't tears filling her blue eyes. Then it was so, so bad.

A week ago, he wouldn't have wanted to be here, not anywhere near it. A week ago he would have wanted to be across the room, next to Buffy. He would have wanted to be smelling her musk, his nose buried in her hair, his hands on her waist, his lips exploring hers.

Angel growled. And Riley forgot what he was thinking about as Angel pulled away from him, pushing him roughly backwards until he fell on the bed, Graham flopping down next to him, the mattress bouncing. Xander jumped up, crouching. Angel standing alone unbuttoning the shirt he halfway wore, then he was shirtless, chest smoothly muscled, dressed only in his pants. Stalking forward. Giles stepped up, beside Buffy, her knight errant. Cordy took a giant step back, trodding on Wesley's toes with her sharp heels. His yelp was muffled.

Angel kept his moves slow, one step, two, another, then four. Buffy was right in front of him, as was Giles, his ancient, many times blessed, cross in his hand, the hand that was lifting higher and higher with each step the vampire took. The last step. Angel sighed. And stepped into the cross, so that it was flush to his skin, against his chest, hard, digging in. Giles' hand holding the cross, rock solid. His faith, undeterred.

Angel stood there, saying nothing, letting them all see. Letting Cordy step out to the side, peer around the others, and see. Allowing Wesley to gulp and swallow, inch closer, then stop. Letting Gunn surge forward, axe in hand, not believing, letting Doyle look at his unblemished chest, the cross that wasn't smoking, and the half-demon raised his eyes.

"My Ghod." He said. "It is true."

They all heard it, Fred's feet, tap, tap, tap taptap, taptaptaptaptap....fast, faster down the stairs as she ran.

ne'ichan
faestion1@yahoo.com