Mirror, Mirror

Epilogue.

“And so Buffy’s going to go back once the semester is over. Potter says he has some old house he could use her help cleaning out. They may have just met but he seems to have caught on that she does best with manual therapy. Willow and Tara will already be over there, of course. Apparently wizards can magic their way into practically anywhere they want so the girls picked Oxford. Good school, good school.

“Riley is going to see his mother next week and I plan to go with him. After meeting two of his parents I am not leaving him alone with any others. No peep from the Malfoys yet, but there’s no way they’re just going to let Riley go. In a few years he’s going to reach his magical peak and that’s when Giles says he’ll come into all that power the Malfoys are so hungry for.

“Potter is interested in what the Initiative is doing over here and plans to contact some of the older Houses in England. He seems to think they will take a dim view to wizards experimenting on dark creatures, what they call demons. Apparently they played a pivotal role in destroying some lunatic over there so political strong arming might end the Initiative. Until they leave, however, Xander has agreed to move to the hotel. You’ll both help Wesley, who’s going to be left in charge until I get back.” Angel stood up from his comfortable sprawl in Xander’s favorite armchair next to the bed he’d taken over for his monologue. “Am I understood, childe?”

The blond vampire couldn’t answer with the cock gag Wesley had lengthened to shove halfway down his throat but he growled as manfully as he could manage. It’d been a fucking week he’d been tied up like this, fed his three squares by some cruel magic that made the gag swell with sweet blood he had to coax free with diligent sucking. Not allowed to orgasm, whether he was an unsatisfied voyeur to his human shagging that freak or the two taking turns with his ass. His own cock was tightly strapped between his legs so his manhood couldn’t mess the smooth lines of the red leather miniskirt Wesley had eagerly zipped him into. It was his only clothing except for the useless matching six inch heels. Spike was not enjoying himself. Honest.

Well, maybe a little.

Angel laughed at him, walking in a slow circle around his suspended figure. “Harris really does good work,” his sire said, coming to a stop at the smaller vampire’s back. “Xander said he would see to your punishment, but I am actually impressed. Boy’s got promise.” His large hand went under the hem of the skirt that barely covered the swell of Spike’s ass, his fingers pinching the head of the blond’s penis. Spike whimpered, yanking at his restraints with a rattle of chains. He’d been hung facing the bed, only the heels keeping his feet on the floor. It didn’t afford him a lot of leverage.

“Oh, stop your sniffling, boy,” Angel chided, smacking his ass with unrestrained strength. Spike yelped. “I’ve decided not to add to your punishment. Xander and Wesley are writing a rule book for you; an ingenious little tome that I’ve made some suggestions to.”

Those great big dirty paws gripped his hips and spun him about, the chain creaking. The poof messed up the smooth lines of his skirt manhandling him about and Spike growled until Angel obligingly tugged everything back into place. “Always such a spoiled boy, aren’t you, Will?” Angel grumbled good-naturedly. “You’re going to follow every one of their rules or I’ll be beating them into your stubborn hide, understand?” The lummox continued to blather along on that vein, making unimaginative threats and questioning his Xander’s insistence on keeping him. The younger vampire tuned him out from long practice.

Spike knew all about the rules book. Like how he’d not be allowed out without a chaperone and proper collaring; how he was to wear his cock harness at all times and not to touch himself, yada yada. Half the damn book was made up of the various punishments he’d get if he broke any of the “rules” Xander and Wesley had made up over the past week. Made him bloody ache, listening to Xander read the rules aloud every night. So desperate to have the gag out so he could beg for a proper shagging. His boy was a wicked one, alright, and Wesley only encouraged him with his fancy stick waving.

Not that Spike was having a glorious time. Not at all.

Well. Maybe a little.

Now if only Angel would shut up and go away before he drove Spike barmy! Spike hated having to listen to his sire glory to the sound of his own voice at the best of times, but when he was a captive audience before his best soapbox material? Cruel torture it was, and not the fun kind. Spike grumbled and gnawed on his chew toy.

A tentative knocking sounded and Spike watched the door swing open over Angel’s shoulder. A vision in silvery blond and denim glanced into the room, pale eyes immediately zeroing in on Angel and ignoring the other vampire chained up in the room. “Angel, Xander said I would find you in here. Are you ready to leave?”

Spike literally saw awareness of his errant childe leave Angel at the tall blond’s appearance. The man cleared the distance to the door with a burst of vampiric speed and snatched Bloody Gorgeous into his arms. Even more astounding, the vision didn’t struggle to get away though he blushed in a way that made Spike’s loins and fangs ache. Horny as he was, practically anything with a fuckhole looked edible, but Spike didn’t think lust was clouding his vision. Pet was a seven course meal.

“I’m done torturing Spike,” Angel murmured, nuzzling the blond who deliciously squirmed. His sire had an enviously firm grip of that thick braid that told Spike just how possessive the older vampire was of the stranger. Man didn’t have an English accent so where had Peaches picked him up? And what did he mean, ‘torture’? That git had deliberately droned on just to snap Spike’s last bloody nerve? Oh, he was so getting revenge once he was free! Maybe he’d start by stealing away the pretty bird to his own nest. Virile master vampire like himself, he could easily satisfy a few more lovelies. Gripping the chain that suspended him from the ceiling, he strained forward in his heels to hear every word of their whispered conversation. “Did you pick your movie yet? Wait, are you hungry? Do you want to eat first?”

Bloody Gorgeous softly laughed, kissing Angel quiet. “Xander recommended a Kurt Russell marathon playing at the Franklin Theatre and yes, I could eat.”

Angel started to back them out of the room, kissing down the blond’s throat. “Hmmm, whatever you want, Riley. Whatever you want.”

Wait a fucking minute! Riley?! Riley Captain Cardboard Finn? Spike’s eyes wildly flicked from the long blond hair to the grey eyes to the suddenly familiar cheekbones and Irish turned nose. How the hell he’d changed his eyes and grown his hair four feet in the span of a week Spike didn’t know but he was furious that he’d been lusting after the tosser. A wig and contacts, that’s what it was, but Spike was still seething.

Jut before the door closed Angel glanced back at him and Spike jerked backwards in his chains, anger abruptly replaced by healthy fear. He did not need any fancy mind powers to read his sire’s expression. If he ever targeted Finn again Xander was going to be short a toy. No more fun, no more games and pretend. Spike jerkily nodded.

“Don’t worry, Will,” his sire said almost too softly for even his heightened ears to pick up, “I’ll tell Harris you were a good boy.”

The door closed.

~*~

At New York’s Penn Station International Port Destination two elegantly dressed wizards arrived hand in hand. A Transit Authority Officer waved them off the Apparation Platform after a brief glance at their papers, more focused on the next arrival than ones that had already safely ported in. Wizards from all over the world were popping in and disappearing, and so it was no surprise that no one took notice of two more travelers amidst the chaos.

Not so far away, a woman busily chopping potion ingredients glanced up at hearing two dull chimes echo through her home. It was a sound she had not heard in years, not since she had run farther than the magic could reach. Three floors up, hidden deep in the back of a never forgotten closet, an old wizard’s clock creaked and groaned, two of the hands slowly creeping towards the third, waiting on ‘Coming Home’.

End.

Author’s Note – I had a lot of fun writing this, but there will be no sequel. I have promised too many others to realistically take on writing another! As this was my first real crossover (BTVS and Angel don’t really count in my book) there are some rough spots I’d like to smooth over so in the future you might see ‘edited’ in the summary heading on the various archives I’ve posted this story to. If this story has gotten anyone else’s creative juices churning then I encourage you to write your own sequel(s). Thank you again to those who have and anyone in the future who leaves a review. They truly do make my day.