Tyger, Tyger

TYGER, TYGER (part 2/5)

There had been a moment of uncertainty, when the Slayer had asked the Keeper to give Giles details of the new Hellmouth before they left. She had offered her word that she would see the bargain through.

“I am sorry,” he had replied, “but I do not have that information. Neither does House Orbath, yet.” There had been some protests at that.

“You do not understand. All of these things are contingent upon success in the Games, because all I have offered are perquisites of the Royal Household. Only by succeeding can House Orbath honour the bargain, but honour it they will in the event that you win the throne for them.” The vampire had clearly understood that already, but the humans had to be satisfied with what he told them. It was the truth.

It was arranged that Angelus would rejoin the group in an hour, after briefing Spike and Drusilla. He spoke privately to Willow before he left, staring down the questions from her friends with haughty disdain, and a flash of amber eyes.

His main purpose in returning to the mansion was precautionary. He wanted to collect Mr Pointy. He had the stake in his rooms. The claddagh ring remained embedded in it, and it was still stained with his own blood. It had brought the two of them back once. He hoped that if push came to shove, it would do so again. The Keeper thought that it was a religious devotional object and wouldn’t take it away; and he still had the incantation from Willow committed to memory. Better safe than sorry. Now, if Willow could just adapt the spell she had used to make sure there was something here to call them back…

***************

Spike was frankly aghast that Angelus would even contemplate returning to Hylek. He feared that it would be certain death for his Sire. Oh, yes, there would have been a time, not so very long ago, when he would have welcomed that; would have been pleased to be rid of the insane creature that had replaced the Angelus of a century ago. That Angelus was a very different demon. Spike remembered even all these years later how he had fretted and chafed at Angelus’ hand on his bridle, but he had worshipped the ground his Sire had walked on. His Sire. His Yoda.

Now, the insane creature made fewer and fewer appearances, to Spike’s relief, and the old Angelus was being restored. And since Egypt, since that dreadful debacle, his devotion to the older male was complete…again. Well, now that the wanker wasn’t trying to send the world to Hell. And not that he was going to show it very often…

Spike didn’t want to lose this restored demon. He’d had a run as an alpha male, but never established much of a territory. Something had always been missing. The hand on the bridle. He’d resented the losses suffered by giving up his alpha status, true, but as Angelus’ beta male, the gains were so much greater. Spike had been amused that the poor bastard had still been as obsessed with the Slayer as the soul had been, but there were possibilities there, too. Not the least of them was that if his Sire were more …occupied… Spike himself would get more time alone with Drusilla. Although the real Angelus had always made sure he kept his whole family satisfied in every way.

Whatever, he simply didn’t want to lose this newly rest rel relationship, this *belonging*, for some bloody quixotic adventure that could easily come band and bite them on the ass. So he bitched and whined and shouted. Angelus simply cocked an eyebrow at him and let him rant.

Drusilla definitely pouted. Insane she might be, but she knew her restored Daddy when she saw him, and she was just as determined as Spike to keep their Sire safely in the bosom of their little family.

Never mind – Angelus had made them both understand that this was his will. He also made them understand the need to leave Buffy’s friends alone whilst he was gone – he didn’t want the Slayer sulking because one of her little gang had finished up as someone’s dinner during her absence – and the need to keep a sharp eye on the Hellmouth in his stead. He had no intention of allowing the Kahlavi cult to sneak back in after so much strenuous effort recently to keep them out of it.

Carefully tucking Mr Pointy, still hanging on Willow’s necklace, inside his shirt, he set off back to the library.

**************

The atmosphere was tense when he returned. Willow and Oz sat by the computer, Cordelia was whispering angrily to a sulking Xander. Buffy had been home to spin her mother some extremely thin story about a last minute place on a residential study course. She sat by herself, a packed suitcase nearby. Only Giles’ confirmation in a telephone conversation had mollified Joyce. And Giles and Ezrafel were in earnest conversation. Clearly they had found something in common, and had circumstances been less dire, Angelus suspected they might have enjoyed each other’s company. At his glance, the witch gave a brief nod. Good. She had found a way to anchor them back in this dimension.

Willow walked over to meet him in the doorway, out of earshot of the others. She handed him her necklace.

“Use the thong from this instead of the one you have,” she whispered. “It’s already spelled to anchor Mr Pointy here. The same incantation will bring you back.” Then she returned to sit next to Oz.

The others were frankly curious, but Angelus merely smiled enigmatically and went to join Buffy. He held out his hand to her. “Shall we?” As if they were at a ball and he were simply asking her to dance. He liked the picture that presented.

She regarded him steadily, her gaze flat and expressionless. Her scent, though, was like a wildly swinging pendulum, beating between loathing and attraction, spiced with fear of what they were going to do. But she simply nodded curtly and allowed him to hand her out of her seat. She did not pick up her suitcase. He looked askance at it, and she shook her head.

“Just for show. I don’t suppose there’s anything useful I could take that I’ll be allowed to keep.”

She turned that flat stare upon the keeper, seeking confirmation or denial.

“Everything that you need will be provided for you.” He bowed to his two latest charges. “If you are quite ready, we must leave now.”

He made a few motions in the air with a small device he carried, spoke a few words, and a neat little portal appeared. He stood back and gestured to Buffy and Angelus to precede him. Seconds later, the portal was gone.

**************

True to his word, Ezrafel took them to see his seniors, those in charge of the Games. Angelus was surprised to find that representatives of House Orbath were also present. The Keeper introduced him to the head of the small delegation from House Orbath, a young demon named Haraeth.

“My House welcomes you, Angelus…Slayer. I was chosen to meet you, since it was felt that I might be more acceptable to you than my father and grandfather. I am Heir to the House, but if their absence is offensive to you, they are close by, and could join us.”

Angelus regarded the young demon intently. Intelligent and steady, was his assessment, but ripe for youthful mischief. Perhaps he could get to like this one.

“No offence is taken, provided you are authorised to negotiate. I…,” he glanced at Buffy, and continued smooth“We “We have not yet agreed to remain. There is one outstanding matter.”

Haraeth looked disconcerted. Angelus motioned to Ezrafel. “Explain.”

Ezrafel had never been accused of being stupid, and he understood. The vampire did not wish the Slayer to know what was being discussed. He explained the issue of Hiring, using the Hylek tongue. Haraeth replied to Angelus in English.

“I have authority to speak on behalf of the House in this matter, but the decision does not belong to House Orbath alone.”

“Then find me the others!”

It was at that moment that the Council, trailed by a small caravan of bureaucrats and assorted hangers-on, entered the chamber. Wonderful. A public hearing, if ever he saw one. The snarl was instinctive, and caused no little edginess amongst those in the chamber. At least, the newly arrived hangers-on edged as far away as possible. Haraeth simply looked amused. Yes, Angelus could like this demon.

He made Buffy wait outside the council chamber. A strange keeper waited with her. The Hylekians were bemused that the Slayer should be excluded from the discussions, but Angelus was adamant. She was furious, and he knew that he would suffer some dire consequences – he was already anticipating with enjoyment how that might turn out – but this was not a conversation he wished to share with her.

The Keeper turned to him.

“The discussions will be in the Hylek tongue. If it is acceptable to you, I will translate. If you prefer someone else, a translator can be found quickly.”

“No! You do it.”

The discussions were difficult. Hiring was a popular and profitable venture. Both the owning House and the Arena benefited from the Hiring fee, and from the kudos of the most popular gladiators.

House Orbath waived all rights to Hire their Mated Pair.

The Arena did not.

House Orbath offered recompense to ArenArena for lost income from the Hiring.

The Arena could not possibly agree to forego the Hiring.

House Orbath offered a handsome extra sum to soothe the Arena bursar.

The Arena had no wish to disappoint its other wealthy and desirous patrons.

House Orbath offered to replace the Mated Pair with other entertainments to appeal to the Arena’s patrons. Entirely at House Orbath’s expense, of course.

The Arena regretfully declined.

House Orbath asked what it could do to assist the Arena in waiving their Hiring rights.

Nothing.

Angelus, the Keeper and Haraeth retired to one end of the chamber. Haraeth admitted defeat, and asked whether he should seek counsel of his father and grandfather. It would be pointless, Angelus thought. The demon had done everything conceivably possible. Quite clearly the Arena had already taken bookings, contingent upon his and Buffy’s return, from powerful patrons whom they did not wish to offend. Perhaps currently more powerful than House Orbath. He wondered who that could be. Did one of the other challenging Houses have a hot favourite up their sleeves? Or did the Arena know something about the current rulers and their chances of making a second term of office? That was for the future, though.

The question for now was, was the prize worth the cost? And who would have to pay it? If it were simply the diamonds and the estates, well, they were attractive, but he had time. He could find other routes to power. But the new Hellmouth? A Hellmouth not under his control? That was definitely a horse of another colour. Could he afford to turn down House Orbath’s offer to give him all the information needed to scotch that opening? He rather thought not. And Buffy… If a new Hellmouth opened, she would be there, fighting. She might be hurt. She might die. A growl rumbled up from deep within his chest. Never! She was his plaything, not some other demon’s. The only way that he could ensure her safety would be to chain her to his bed. He seriously considered that. But only for a moment. If he went to contend for mastery of the new Hellmouth and were dusted, she wouldn’t be safe even there. He saw no choice.

Gritting his teeth, he motioned his companions to return to the Council members, and asked Ezrafel to translate for him.

“What is your minimum requirement? Speak the truth, or I shall know.”

The bursar spoke for them all.

“6 sessions, between you, or three double sessions as a pair.”

He was a dominant, alpha male, master vampire, dammit. Could he possibly submit to this? The Hellmouth, he reminded himself. The price must be paid.

“The Slayer will not be involved. Neither will she know. That requirement is absolute. If you don’t like it, you can stuff your patrons and their bookings up your collective asses.” He glowered at the assembled Council. There was hasty, murmured consultation. The Bursar opened a ledger. The bookings ledger, thought Angelus grimly. He wondered what was in it. There was more discussion.

The bursar responded. “For you alone, 2 double sessions plus one entire night. That is final.”

Angelus looked at the Keeper and Haraeth. They nodded. They saw no way to reduce that price. His jaw clenched.

“Done,” and on that he turned and stalked out of the room, wrapped in a black cloud of rage, Ezrafel and Haraeth scurrying in his wake.

*************

They had, of course, been given a room together. t fot for the moment, he wished they hadn’t. Ezrafel and Haraeth had gone, after ensuring they had everything for their comfort. Haraeth had thanked them for returning to fight for House Orbath. Ezrafel had said that supper would be brought for them shortly, and then they would be undisturbed until morning. Buffy had said nothing. She didn’t need to. Her body language said it all. The Keeper and the Heir of House Orbath were pleased to make their escape and leave the master vampire to the fury of his diminutive slayer mate.

Since then, she hadn’t shut up.

Servitors had come with supper. Cheese, meat, bread, dried and fresh fruits for her. A jug of fresh, warm horse blood for him. A very good red wine for both of them. The tirade had continued without falter. The servitors had escaped, breathing sighs of relief. Outside the door, they had nudged each other in sympathy for the vampire and fled the rising tide of complaint.

And still it had gone on.

She flung across the room, a fury of perpetual sound and motion, while he lay on the bed trying not to get a headache. Suddenly, in one fluid movement that should have been impossible, even for one with slayer strength, she grabbed him by the shirtfront and hauled him from horizontal to vertical, pinned against the wall. Then she hit him, her fist connecting with his jaw with every ounce of her strength.

“And that’s for dropping me, like…like some street walker!”

He lay in an untidy heap, trying to get some feeling back into the left side of his face. It took a moment for the last complaint to penetrate, and from what he could remember, it bore no relation to anything she’d said before. Despite his aching, and possibly broken, jaw, he grinned. He was definitely under her skin. The teasing game had worked. Just as he’d wanted. Hadn’t he? Then she said something that wiped the grin off his face.

“And you excluded me from the discussions with your demon buddies for reasons you aren’t prepared to share. What have you DONE? Have you sold me to them when all this is over? You got tired of me so they can have me now? Is that it? When should I expect the first of them? Tonight? You both going to have me at once? Well, mister, you’re going to have a hard time trying, let me tell you!”

With that, she burst into tears and flung herself onto the newly-vacated bed, sobbing out her misery.

Gingerly, he rose to his feet and crossed over to the bed. He sat on the edge and, tenderly, laid his hand on her neck, stroking her as he might a frightened bird. The smile on his face was bitter and humourless, but his voice was a caress.

“Nothing, absolutely nothing, will hurt you here. I will not permit it.”

His voice might have been gentle, but it rang with conviction. To him, it was absolute truth. A strange thing to say to a gladiator about to re-enter the arena? Perhaps, but she was the strongest slayer there had ever been, and he was a legend among vampires. Nothing would hurt this girl. She was his property. If he had harboured the least doubt about that, they would not have returned to Hylek, Hellmouth or no Hellmouth.

“You mean that?” Her voice was small, scared.

“Yes.”

“Then what were you talking about, that I couldn’t be there?”

“It was…vampire stuff. It need not concern you at all. I promise. Nothing from that will ever cause you difficulty or pain. Word of a demon.” He tried to make his smile warmer, in case she turned over. She didn’t.

“Oh.”

He lay down on the bed behind her, and moved forward to nestle against her warmth, his arm around her waist.

“You are MINE,” he whispered. “NO-ONE will ever touch you without my permission, and that will NEVER be given. If you believe nothing else, believe that.”

She did believe. And she hated herself for her weakness and neediness, but she wanted this vampire. If only it could be body and soul.

He contemplated what hd jud just said. Every word of it was true. He was never going to tire of her and he knew it. Possessed! He fought the snarl of rage that threatened, the sudden need to tear this woman to shreds and feast on her remains. Buffy never knew her danger that night, but she had never been closer to death than she was at that moment.

They fell asleep like that, the vampire and the Slayer.

***************

On to Chapter 3
If you've been here and enjoyed it, let me know. Leave a comment! Thanks