Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 18
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Spike woke up on a lab table. A hundred or so years of survival instinct took over, and he held perfectly still, not giving in to the urge to breathe or move noticeably, using his ears and nose and vampire senses to figure out what was going on in the room around him, if he was being watched.

He didn't feel any restraints around his limbs. Good. One point in his favor then. He heard footfalls, quiet, cushioned by crepe rubber soles, light but shuffling. More than one set, but only one was very near, the shuffling set. Probably older, or weaker somehow, underweight. Not in the best of shape. He only just managed not to smile in satisfaction. No challenge there. Just a quick snack if he could work it.

He smelled gun oil further out into the room, from several directions. Well cared for leather, one of his favorite smells. Adrenaline, not bad. A light cologne. He put it all together and came up with one or two scientists. One person, wearing cologne, so a male. And several armed men. Soldiers. The tasty treat of adrenaline was probably from them. Young and strong. Nutritious if he could manage one of them close by.

He had one big goal, now that he had figured out what he could about his current environment. Not escape. Because he was blood-bonded to Oz, his thrall. So escaping without the man would be very stupid. Why escape and then die from it? Or worse yet have to come sniveling and crawling back? He couldn't smell Oz in the room. That meant Spike had to wait before getting the freaking hell out of this place.

So, if he couldn't escape, then he had to feed. The idiots that passed for scientists here, didn't seem to realize Oz couldn't keep feeding Spike without the help of either another donor, or bagged blood. Not even fast recovering werewolves provided an endless supply of blood. Oz was good, but even he couldn't do the impossible. Unless the scientists planned on watching Spike slowly starve to death, or go mad and try to kill his thrall. Hell, maybe that was their plan. To record it all for the sake of posterity. But, it wasn't Spike's plan. He, and his thrall, were going to get out of this joint, alive.

He was a survivor. He was going to survive this. With the acquisition of a thrall to boot. He was a practical vampire. He would never have chosen to tie himself down with a thrall, even if he could have found the strength to make one. But, now that he had one...he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. There were benefits to be had, and Spike wasn't going to foolishly turn those down.

He waited until the feet were right next to his bed. Then he struck. The stupid gits hadn't strapped him down. He was up and on the wide eyed man in seconds. Old. Spike tasted the age in the man's blood, the wrinkled flesh of the man's neck under his mouth.

Not the vintage he would have chosen if he had a choice. But hey, beggars can't be choosers, he drank as fast as he could. Two gulps, three, five.... and the man was torn out of his grasp, flesh flaying from under his mouth, blood spraying, oops, got a carotid on that one, Spike thought, smiling nastily in his head. Sorry, old boy.

A soldier dragged the old man to safety the other raised a cannister, finger tightening to unleash the knock out spray, but Spike was faster. Having a thrall was a very good thing. He liked being stronger, quicker. He snarled baring his teeth. Didn't have to worry about that sodding chip any more, either. Hee hee.

He had the can on the floor and the soldier, the cutest damn Asian man he'd ever seen, across his lap, pinned down and fangs an inch deep in his throat before anyone else could get near. He heard shouting, ignoring it as he sucked hard, drinking as much as he could, as fast as he was able.

Two donors was more than he'd hoped to have a chance at. He wasn't going to waste it. The man's struggles weakened, but Spike didn't care about that, he had blood, spiked with adrenaline and spiced with pure sweet fear, too good. He drank greedily. Then the man was ripped out of his arms, and someone did managed to spray him with that CRAP. Spike fell back onto the bed, unconscious. But, very well fed.

Maggie Walsh strode into the room. Her furious expression making everyone, even the armed men step out of her way hastily. The only one who had ever failed to kowtow to her was the Finn boy, and his friend Graham Miller, who just never reacted to a thing she said. Too bad they had been disloyal. And were history, now. A little too much initiative of his own, Riley Finn, too clean and too much of a boyscout. Ah, well.

"Who let this happen?" She glared around the room, only the officer meeting her stony gaze. His hands around the barrel of the shot gun were white knuckled. She sneered internally, pussyboy, she thought. They all were.

"He caught us by surprise, ma'am. He should have been knocked out for at least another hour." The soldier swallowed, pitiful, she thought. But, at least they hadn't shot the troublesome vampire. Then, she'd have to start all over again. Another vampire and another thrall. This way....the situation remained salvageable.

"Did we at least get the blood samples?" She fought the urge to hit him in the face. She rolled her eyes as she walked past him. Incompetents. One of them would most certainly pay dearly for this. She knew just who to start with.

"Yes. The blood was taken." The officer told her, voice tight, making it clear he had seen the eye roll and resented it. But, didn't have the balls to say anything to her. Gelding, she added to her list of names for the man.

After all, most men could be explained away using nothing more than a set of genitals, instinctive mating urges and territorial imperatives. They wanted to own things, eat things or fuck them. End of story. They weren't useful for much else, including thinking, until they got old enough to lose the drive to fuck. Like the scientist who had been injured. He had been the perfect age.

"How is Dr. Peterson?" She snapped coming to a halt near the vampire's examination table. He was out cold. Head half off the table's edge, one arm trailing limply. A pretty enough picture if one went for the lean type. She, however had no time for a relationship, or more than simple sex. When she had an itch, she scratched it. Then forgot about it. Her work was far more important.

"He has extensive tearing of his throat, and moderate blood loss. He'll need surgery to repair the damage." The officer reported, crisply.

"Well. He is too old for what we need anyway. The soldier. How is he?" Maggie Walsh shook her head at the delay the surgery would cause. Peterson was dedicated to her cause. His help had been invaluable. The sooner he was back at work the better. The soldier, he was young and strong. Perfect. Now that the vampire had bitten him...well waste not, want not. The grin that spread over her face was feral.

"Private Nicholas Yee. Moderate, blood loss, less tearing of his throat than Dr. Peterson, but he is pretty weak. They are taking him to the infirmary for a transfusion." The officer told her.

"No. Not until I get there. Radio them." Dr. Walsh stalked over to the refrigerated cabinet on the wall as the soldier obeyed, punching in her access code, the only one that would open this particular storage area.

"Private Yee just volunteered for special duty." She said, as she removed a vial of shimmering blood. Her smile was not pretty. The officer opened his mouth.

She fixed her flat gaze on the man she had been speaking to. "Unless you would like to take his place?" He shook his head, his mouth snapping shut over the protest he had been about to voice. He had his own skin to worry about, Yee would have to take care of himself.

"No, ma'am." He looked positively ill at the thought of becoming the vampire's regular snack bar. They'd all had to go through the experience of being fed from when first assigned to the Initiative. But, none of them liked it. Most had recurring nightmares about it.

"Good. Now get Hostile 17 back to his cell mate, and clean up this mess." She avoided the pooled blood coagulating on the floor. Her shoes would stay as white and spotless as the entire facility.

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The new door was one cannibalized from another room further along the hall. The deadbolts had been replaced and now they were locked, all three.

Angel did better this time, he didn't seize Xander. It was Graham his hands grabbed. Riley and Graham had maneuvered themselves so Xander was the furthest from the vampire once they had been herded into the suite. Angel couldn't take any credit for it.

He found himself with an armful of hot, muscular, very pretty man. Grey eyes stared up at him, the prime body leaned into him, willing, not fighting or resisting him as he lifted the slighter one up and took him further into the bedroom. Stripped him. Dragged him towards the bathroom

The shower was hot, and felt good. As the heat soaked into his cool skin, Angel reflected on the way the conversation downstairs had gone, while Graham washed him. The important person had been Lorne. Lorne who would report back to the other demons in the region. Get the word out, of what Angel was, of what other demons now owed him, could expect if they resisted him.

Lorne was interested, had listened, and made a few comments. The tall, green demon would support him. And would point the vamps, who would begin showing up soon in LA, to Angel's door. When that happened, the AI headquarters would undergo a painful reorganization.

Vampires with thralls always attracted vampires without them. It was a hierarchy established in the fog of an ancient time. The new Angel was at the top of this pile. He smirked. That hadn't happened to him for a long, long time. He had avoided others of his kind, deliberately. That was impossible to do now. They would sniff him out in droves, all wanting to bow to him, or fight him, kill him and take his place. He had one choice. To rule. Or to die.

Graham was quiet as he soaped the large body in front of him. The vampire was deep in thought. Probably going over the meeting they'd just left. Six hours of questions and answers. His head had started to spin after the first hour. But he'd listened and tried to remember as much as he could. Maybe later he'd have enough information to make sense of what he heard.

The growl caught him by surprise, shocking him out of his rumminations. Angel grabbed him, bending down, burying his nose in against Graham's neck. The shorter man suppressed his automatic strike, it wouldn't do any good anyway, and bent his head back. He didn't like being alone for this, he preferred having one of the other thralls within arm's reach in case he needed help distracting Angel. But fighting it would only escalate things. He gave in to the fangs.

He reached over and turned off the shower. Riley would hear that, and count the minutes it took for the vampire and his friend to re-appear. Too long, and hopefully Riley would come to investigate the delay. Graham let out a squeak as slick fingers slid over the opening to his body. Any time, Ri, he thought lifting one leg and opening himself to the vampire's explorations. The sooner the better, Ri.

As if on cue the shower door opened and Riley, as well as Xander, were there. Riley's bloodied wrist offered to the vampire, who responded with immediate interest. Between the three of them they lured Angel back to the bed, Xander producing a large tube of lubricant. Graham stared at him with a question in his eyes. Xander mouthed a name silently. Lorne. Graham blessed the jolly green demon, equally silently.

The fingers that found their way into his body were nice and slippery. Graham smiled at Xander, who was preparing him, looking more than a little uncomfortable about it, but the important thing was, he was doing it, while Riley let himself be fed off of. Xander looked everywhere but at Graham's face, or down between his legs. Then Riley called out to Xander, and Xander's fingers left Graham's body, as the two thralls traded places.

Angel fastened happily onto Xander and Riley applied more lube, really slathering it on. "Don't know how to do this. But I'm guessing I should use a lot." The ex-soldier said, quietly. "Any tips?"

"Lots of lube, use two fingers. Xander got me opened with one already. Hurry." Graham responded, also in a murmur. The last thing he wanted was Angel in him, or trying to get in him before maximum attention had been paid to get him ready. Riley nodded, moving in. Despite Graham's advice, he used one finger to test Graham first, then gently inserted a second. Hot, Graham was very hot inside, and like silk. Riley discovered it wasn't unpleasasnt, having his fingers inside the other man, not like he'd imagined it.

Riley's fingers felt longer than Xander's, bigger. Graham felt full, but not painfully so. His eyes met Riley's, who was looking down at him from between his wide-spread legs. The blue eyes were somber, but not embarrassed. Riley smiled at him, a little grimly. Very serious.

"Three now." Graham said after a while. Riley added more lube, slapped on a dollop close tot he size of an ice cream sccop. Grey and blue eyes met and held, locked as Riley pressed in. Graham sighed. Definitely bigger. Harder to take. But Riley had taken this and more. Graham drew in a relaxing breath. Let it out, and his resistance melted away. Riley was in as deep with his fingers as he could go. Graham panted to keep from tightening in reflex. Hurt. Just breathe through it. Like Lamaze, he smiled wryly at the thought. Then Angel appeared, pushing Riley aside.

Graham let his head drop back on the bedspread, baring his neck a second time. This was it. He was going to get fucked in just a few seconds. Angel lifted his legs, and Graham thanked the ghods he was so limber, as he was folded practically in half. Angel was going to take him face to face. That felt sort of weird.

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Maggie Walsh drew up the pearly sheen-ed, crimson liquid into the large syringe. She moved to the hanging bag of blood, and injected the gene-altered blood into the bag. Then nodded to the medic to start the transfusion. Nicholas Yee was about to become Hostile 17's second thrall. Spike had adapted easily to the first one. There was no reason to think he wouldn't do just as well with a second. A second thrall who was already firmly in her pocket. He'd do as he was told.

Talking the young man into it had been easy. She just steamed rolled over him, and signaled the doctor behind him, out of his sight, to administer a sedative. Groggy, he'd not put up any protest at all. She grinned ferally. Perfect. She'd give him an extra unit of blood, and by tomorrow he'd be ready to join Hostile 17 and his current thrall in the cell. Another pretty boy for her chipped, pet vampire to play with. It should work out very well indeed.

Starting out the bonding in the laboratory was proving much more sensible than releasing the altered thralls on the street to find their vampires. By the time she released these three in Sunnydale, she would have their loyalty firmly set. She was shooting for a release time as soon as next week. Right back on schedule. When people and circumstance stayed out of her way, she was efficient and damned competent. This time there would be no problems.

ne'ichan
neichan22@gmail.com

A/N: I can't see any of your email addy's when you review the fic, so...if you want to know when there is an update...I am at a loss how to let you know.