Thralls

Chapter 16
Thralls by Neichan

"Xander." Angel called out to the struggling were-hyena and the ex-soldier who was trying to keep from being hurt while preventing the hyena-man from chasing off down the stairs after human prey. Damn his chest still hurt, ached, like someone had cored it out with a dull spoon.

Xander lifted his animal face and sniffed in the vampire's direction. Riley could see the consciousness seep back into the other thrall like water filling a cup. And, from one breath to the next, the hyena was gone, faded away, and Xander was there. Puzzled. Graham's arms relaxed.

Xander lifted a hand to his face to rub at it, and encountered the dried blood, setting free a shower of the brown flakes. He stared at it in bemusement, then suddenly seemed to understand what it was.

"Yuck." Xander said. "So, so not on my top ten list. Wake from a bad dream as Hyena-boy covered in vampire blood. I'll just go wash this off." He headed to the bathroom, Graham trailing behind him warily.

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Dr. Walsh methodically read every detail of the autopsy and crime scene reports.

She found the crisp, detached wording of the Medical Examiner's report soothing. It was nice to read facts presented in an unemotional manner. Laid out and awaiting her evaluation. To not have to deal with the anxieties and agitations of interpretation. Just the facts, ma'am.

She smiled to herself. "There," she thought, "so much for those who believe I have no sense of humor." She leafed through the stack of photographs. The photos clinched it. Two of her thralls had been executed, most probably by the vampire they had been sent to ensnare. Well, it had been a calculated risk to utilize the mentally unstable vampire female. Her instability had added one too many factors to the mix.

On the up side, there were no reports of death in the other areas where the thralls had been disseminated. So. There was a possibility that the remaining subjects were being prevented, somehow, from contacting her, and were still alive. The conditioning might not have been sufficient. Or, they might be waiting for an opportunity to get in touch. She would have been much more comfortable with the delay if they had had the tracking devices implanted. The next group would. She shook her head. Why had she agreed to the paranoid arguments of her scientists? She pulled her thoughts back to the more important issue of the moment, going back to the perusal of the autopsies.

Severe lacerations of the throat and upper chest. Disruption of both the right and left carotids, with rapid exsanguination. But, not much blood at the scene itself. That cried out to Maggie Walsh. While a detective would see it as a sign the victim was killed in another location, then dumped to conceal the perpetrator, she knew it meant the woman had been killed and drained by a vampire, probably right where she was found. Pity. She had spent a significant amount of time making and then training the thralls. Now she would have to secure additional subjects.

Fortunately, she had a vampire, in mind, and better yet, under watch. She planned on taking no unnecessary chances this time. And he had the perfect control in place, he was chipped. He could not kill the thralls she sent to him. The chip prevented that.

Hostile 17 was going to go through the same painstaking training the thralls did, in controlled laboratory conditions. To eliminate the wasteful kind of mistake that had resulted in the death of the young scientific officer and thrall Jenny Callender in New Jersey. Mistakes were costly. They took time and money from her project. Mistakes were inefficient.

She finished reading the reports, having gleaned all of the pertinent information from them, and set them aside to be filed. She settled her chair in front of her computer screen, clicking on the new files section.

A picture of a slender, reddish haired young man filled the monitor. She smirked with no surprise at the strange appellation at the top of the screen. Oz. What an odd name. Not really unexpected with the way young people were changing their names right and left nowadays. His name was immaterial. He was familiar with vampires, and would not lose it when faced with one. He was also quick thinking, resourceful. Likely to survive. He would be perfect for Hostile 17. She continued reading.

^^^^^^^^^^

Wesley stopped speaking, a pink flush traveling up into his cheeks. How exactly do you address a friend when you have seen their rather impressive privates hanging out?

The others in the room picked up on his silence, and conversation dwindled as they turned and saw the vampire, fully dressed this time, enter the office. The three thralls were no more than a step behind him as he came to a halt close to the door.

Lorne sat up straighter. So. Angel was going to *talk*. That didn't happen often. He smiled. Then settled back to wait, Fred snugged up to his side. Nervous. Watching. This should be interesting. Lorne itched to get the whole group back to Caritas, up on the stage and singing into his microphone, but... Silence fell.

Cordelia stared, arms automatically crossing over her chest. Her jaw was thrust out. Obviously not happy.

Wesley half opened his mouth, then snapped it shut, twisting a thread that stuck up from the chair's upholstery.

Gunn lounged, relaxed, against the wall, his axe propped next to his leg, in easy reach. No point in picking it up, though, since he didn't think it would do a hell of a lot of good against Angel anymore. Call it a hunch.

Fred sat next to Lorne, leaning slightly forward, her large eyes wide and fixed on Angel. Anxious.

Doyle was very still, looking in the direction of the vampire and his thralls, not meeting any eyes. But seeing everything else. How they stood together, the thralls a bit behind Angel.

The watcher from Sunnydale, Rupert Giles, was sitting on the arm of one of the easy chairs, next to Buffy, who was stonily frowning at the floor, her jaw clenched, feet primly together, hands fisted on her knees. Giles looked ready to burst with excitement, and supremely unhappy at the same time. He rested a hand on his slayer's stiff shoulder.

Angel looked from face to face. Crossed his own arms over his chest. Glowered, at his broody best.

"There are going to be some changes." He said, as Riley, Xander and Graham stopped and stood around him, close but not quite touching. "No one is going to break down any more doors. You may not like it. But, what I chose to do with my thralls is not your business." He turned his head in Cordelia's direction at her sharp intake of breath. He fixed her with his dark, forbidding gaze, let the gold lights sparkle through. She bit her lip, only just managing to contain her comments, for now.

"There will be some rules. Not a lot. Not negotiable. You don't like it, then leave the Hotel. No one is going to break into my rooms. No one is going to try to "rescue" my thralls." The quotation marks were clearly implied around the word rescue. He gazed from one to another until he had met all their eyes. "Those are the important ones. If there needs to be more, they'll be added when the need arises."

There was a restless shifting amongst the people around him, with glances exchanged, but no talk, so Angel continued.

"I have broken up the partnership of Angel Investigations before. And we all know that was a mistake. I am laying out the rules now, to prevent misunderstandings. Let's get it all out into the open. As much as possible. I spent most of my life trying to avoid this old-court shit. I don't know all there is to know about the bloodcircle, that is what this is," he clarified, "but what I do, I will tell you. Questions?"

Giles, Wesley and Cordelia all started speaking at once. Gunn shifted impatiently. Angel held up his hand. "One at a time." He said.

"Why do you have to sleep with them?" Cordelia won the race for the first question. Xander let out a small noise, turning his head away from the others. Angel shifted his weight towards the other man. But they still didn't touch.

"It is part of the bonding process. Sex and feeding. It is required. Can't turn it off. Can't stop it. Can't say no. Saying no means they die." He looked around again. "Next question?"

"Wait! What do you mean....." Cordelia persisted, taking a step closer, a frown creasing her brow. Doyle rose to his feet going to her side. Angel sighed, his face grim.

"I mean, Cordy, that I can't *not* have sex with them. That is all I mean. There is no choice involved here. Not for me, not for them." He waited for the next part, knowing it was coming, she was fairly bursting with it.

"So you are happy to just let it go on, to do this to them just for the power it gives you...?" She began, her generous mouth compressed.

"Being happy about it or not, has nothing to do with this." Angel said. "Are you happy about having to eat, and drink and breathe? Or do you just do it to survive?"

"We've run up against things like this before. Where there wasn't supposed to be a choice, and we've changed that. Found a way around it." She insisted stubbornly. "I don't understand why you are giving up so easily."

"Princess," Doyle said, his voice low, weary. She shook off his hand.

"Stop it! I want to hear his excuse!" She seethed, hotly. "He never gives up, he always fights. Now all of a sudden he just gives in? No. Something else is going on. He wants this. That is why he isn't fighting it."

"Do you have a problem with homosexuality?" Angel asked her, curiously. He'd never noticed that before. But, it would explain a lot. "Is that what this is about?"

"Yes. In this case, I think I do." She said defiantly. "You are forcing my ex-boyfriend..." The vampire shook his head, interrupting her.

"I can't fix that for you, Cordelia. Talking about it is not going to get us anywhere. Let's move on. Next question." He said. She wasn't done yet.

"Damn it, Angel.. Xander doesn't want this. You are forcing him. It is...it's rape...." She took another step in his direction, and his posture became even less relaxed. Doyle grabbed onto her arm. Christ God. She was accusing Angel of rape!

Xander made a noise, panic, pain. Riley moved up next to him, offering his presence as comfort. Xander's eyes flew up to his, then away. Graham came to stand in front of the dark haired man, shielding him from the prying gazes.

"NO, Cordelia. Do not go there. Next. Question." Angel growled, his eyes glowing red-gold. Doyle shook her arm, turned her to face him.

"Later," he said, urgently. "We'll talk later. Give someone else a chance, please, princess. Now is not the time for this."

"I have one," Giles said when it became clear Cordelia was not going to insist. "Why does the cross not affect you? It is blessed."

"The bloodcircle pretty much eliminates the weaknesses associated with being a vampire. The sun isn't harmful. Holy items are not effective. Nor," He gestured to his chest, "stakes to the heart. It doesn't mean I can't be killed, it just means it isn't as easy any more."

"So you can be killed?" Buffy spoke up, her eyes blazing. At last taking interest in the proceedings.

"Yes. I can still be killed." The vampire answered, with forced patience.

"How?" The young woman snapped out.

"I don't think I am going to tell you." Angel answered her. It didn't take much to figure out giving her that information would not add to his immediate chances of survival. "I am not stupid, Buffy. All I have to go on are rumors from the past, anyway. Maybe that is all they are, and I can't be killed."

"I'll find out." She snarled fiercely, right back at him. "And when I do, I'm coming back to find you." Her finger jabbed the air. She stood, "Let's get out of here." She said to her watcher, who was torn between finding out more, and taking care of his slayer. She didn't miss his hesitation.

"Fine, stay here. Ask your questions. But, I wouldn't go so far as to believe anything he tells you. He is a *fucking*," again the awkward use of profanity, she really wasn't very good at it, "vampire. I am going to go do something about the other vampire problem in LA." And she stalked out of the office.

"Wait, Buffy." Cordelia went after the other woman. "I think I need to get out, too."

Lorne broke the silence left by the two women exiting. "Well, didn't that go well?" He said, darkly.

Fred squirmed next to him. "I am the only girl left." She said. "Here."

neichan
neichan22@gmail.com