The Highlander Factor

Spike damn nearly made it to the door before Angelus hit him in the middle of the back, smashing him face first into it. Bringing his elbow back sharply he was rewarded by a satisfying crunch as it connected, but instead of being released Spike was hurled forward again, face first into the doorjamb, his already broken nose sending waves of pain through his head.

"Want to try that again, Will? Fists and fangs, boy - just you and me? Think you can take me?" Angelus punctuated his words by continuing to smash Spike's face against the doorjamb, until he sensed him start to loose consciousness. Pulling Spike's head right back, he ran a finger down the white neck, paused, then sank his fangs into the blue vein. As his borrowed blood was drawn from his body Spike felt a passing regret that he hadn't sampled the human blood himself; at least it would have given him a fighting chance.

Angelus let the limp form drop to the ground, playing with Spike was no fun when he was unconscious so his games would have to wait. But in the meantime he could ensure everything was ready for when his Childe came round. He stacked what was left of the human blood in one corner, then went to retrieve his chest, normally kept well away from human eyes at the back of his wardrobe. He carefully unpacked it, reacquainting himself with each individual item and lovingly laid them out on the table. After moving the bed to the other wall, exposing the iron rings deeply embedded in the brick, he went to retrieve the heavy set of shackles and chains that were kept in the office.

As he carried them back upstairs Angelus' thoughts turned to Cordelia, his soul-ed self's new passion, as a link to the Powers she was far too dangerous to be allowed to live, yet he didn't want her dead, it would be a waste of a Seer. Would it be possible to turn a part demon? Darla and Penn were dead, Dru had gone, he had one Childe left and the taste he'd had confirmed his suspicions. His Childe had a soul, a dirty soul. He'd been tempted to stake him immediately but he had other ideas for Spike, plans that had been a long time in the making. And what was it Marcus had said, "Creatures with souls have something to lose." So much the better, if Spike had something to lose, it would make breaking him that much more satisfying.

It had been one of the things that had brought his sanity back, chained all those weeks in that coffin. Plans for Spike, for ey, ey, for the other humans his pathetic soul-ed self had cared for, and for the Slayer. Oh yes, the Slayer. He had it planned so much better than last time.

Memories of his brief escape in Sunnydale were vague. It was a blur, too much power, too quickly, all centred around his obsession with the Slayer, akin to that he had felt for Drusilla but less focused, less deliberate. This time he'd had an opportunity to plan, time to get his thoughts organised. With a grin he bounded up the last couple of stairs, he felt like his old, old self again.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"Wakey, wakey." Spike reluctantly came back to a world full of pain and blood. His eyes just wanted to roll back in his head, but the insistent slaps wouldn't let him rest. He forced them open.

"At last. I thought you were gone for good there, boy."

The slaps stopped, and Spike shook his head forcing the room back into focus. The pain in his head and nose was starting to fade as his accelerated healing powers kicked in, but he still felt weak and drained. Angelus was standing, arms folded, looking out of the window. There was nothing between him and the door, nothing between him and an escape route. Spike flew towards it, but found himself flat on his face again as the chain between his ankle and the wall brought him up short.

"Bloody hell, mate." He grabbed the c and and yanked on it hard. It was a pointless exercise; Angelus would not have bothered chaining him to a wall unless the chain was certain to hold. "Let me out of this, you stupid Irish git."

Spike was starting to feel distinctly nervous. The figure by the window had not moved or responded to his insult, and that meant only one thing, he was thinking. And when Angelus started thinking instead of just kicking the shit out of you, the best place to be was somewhere else.

"I was just thinkin- Sp- Spike suppressed a small groan - "of all the good times. When our little family was still together. Good days they were, William. I was remembering your first massacre, when we ended up being chased into that mine." He paused then swung round to face his naked Childe chained to the wall. "I should have staked you then, it would have saved me the trouble now."

"If you're gonna stake me, do it. Just stop yattering." He didn't see the backhand blow coming. It knocked him flying across the room and slamming against the limit of the chain, which held fast. Spike's leg didn't, and the pain from separated ankle, knee and hip joints, on top of his re-fractured nose, saw the darkness closing in again.

This time a bucket of icy water brought him round. Vampires may not need to breathe, but a face full of cold water would wake even the dead. Angelus was squatting in front of him holding his head up by the hair, waiting for his eyes to open.

"How many pokers, William? Eleven, twelve? Plus a hundred years in hell. Not to mention touching what's mine. And she is, mine to hunt, mine to kill, mine to fuck if I damn well please, and I can't recall you asking permission to share, Childe."

Spike's brain might have been slightly the worse for wear but he understood the gist of his Sire's words. He was talking about Buffy, but how could he know about them? And if he had known why the hell hadn't Angel come and pissed on their parade? One word from him and Buffy would have gone running, Spike was under no illusions that he had simply been a convenient substitute until the real un-dead love of her life turned up, however much he might like to kid himself.

He kept his eyes lowered as he considered his options. There was no way he was going to look the git in the eye. Angelus would see it as a challenge, and Spike was going to have to play his caveryvery carefully to get out of this without getting dusted.

"What's this, Will? Going coy one me. I've not seen that look on your face for a long, long time. Such a pretty face." A cool finger stroked Spike's face from eyebrow to chin.

Damn, this was not the reaction he'd been aiming for, he'd hoped submissive would get him out alive or at least still un-dead, and he'd forgotten what reaction submissive tended to bring out in Angelus. Spike shuffled backward closer to the wall, away from the figure looming over him and looked up.

"Get away from me, you fucking poof. Spike's all grown up now and he doesn't do that kind of thing any more."

"Oh you will, Spike."eluselus stood up and moved towards him, loosening the zipper on his leather pants.

Spike was close to panicking. This wasn't what he'd been thinking when he'd held Angel in his arms, consensual had been a little more central to those daydreams. But there was no way he was going to get away without doing it, so maybe he should and play for time, see if he could convince Angelus to unchain him. It wasn't going to be nice and it wasn't going to be pretty but he could do it, if it meant getting out of this room with his hide intact, he would do just about anything.

Angelus noted the slump in Spike's shoulders and rewarded his Childe with a pat on the head. "Good boy. You know what to do now?"

Spike hauled himself up onto his one good leg until his face was on a level with the bulge in his sire's pants, then looked up, tacitly seeking permission to continue. With a brief flash of tongue as he licked his lips, Angelus nodded, "Go ahead, William. You have my permission."

He eased the leather pants down carefully, revealing a hard cock already weeping from the slit, and put his lips to the tip, kissing gently and relishing the flavour he hadn't tasted for so many years. Slowly, he allowed his mouth to encircle the head, running his tongue around the inside of the foreskin then bringing it up to flick around the sensitive slit, probing gently. Hearing a slight moan escape from Angelus' lips, he used one hand to pull the foreskin back completely and pushed his mouth down the shaft until the tip hit the back of his throat. Holding still, gripping tightly with his lips and just a little with his teeth, he ran his tongue hard up and down the prominent vein that graced the underside of his Sire's cock.

"Jesus and Mary boy. I'd forgotten you had such a mouth." Angelus leaned forward against the wall, taking hisght ght on one hand and putting the other down to ruffle the blond hair buried in his groin. "Deeper, Will." He held the head still and thrust into that unresisting mouth.

Spike relaxed his throat just in time to accommodate his Sire's movement and swallowed repeatedly allowing his throat muscles to grip and massage. He heard another moan, louder than the first and, confidence rising - this was just like riding a bike - set about deep throating Angelus until the fucker's brains blew out.

Simply enjoying the feel of Spike's mouth, Angelus put his plans for revenge and discipline on hold for a few minutes, it was better to let the boy relax anyway, let him think he could win. He could feel the tightness in his balls as his orgasm rose, and he gripped Spike's head pushing in deeply as he shuddered and released his cold seed into his Childe's throat for the first time in over a century.

When he'd finished, Spike sat back, smiling contentedly and licking the last of his Sire from his lips, "Heh, I thought I'd forgotten how to do that. Not bad, huh?"

Angelus stood upright with a snort, stalked to the other side of the room and threw Spike a bag of blood. "Feed. You need your strength."

Suppressing a sigh of relief that he was to be fed, and with human blood, Spike ripped it open, swigging down the contents with the ease of the long practised. "Now what? If you liked that so much, how about you unchain me and we can carry on enjoying ourselves."

"I seem to remember a time when we had lots of fun with you chained up."

A frisson of excitement ran through Spike's body at his words, they brought back memories he'd thought long buried and forgotten. Some bad, some so much better, of long days when the family were trapped in the house by the sun and the creative ways they found to while away the time. And by the looks of Angelus he was remembering the same things as he walked back across the room stroking himself erect again. This Spike knew and could deal with, he had a lot of faith and it was all in Angelus' weaknesses. A couple of blowjobs and the chain would be off then he would be free to dust the bastard at his leisure. To that end he waited until his Sire came close enough and took him gently in his mouth.

But Angelus had other ideas. Much as he was enjoying his Childe's attentions this was about Spike's punishment not his own continued pleasure. Shifting his weight, he grasped a handful of Spike's hair holding him still and started to piston into his face, grinding his pelvic bone against his Childe's still healing nose, feeling it fracture again.

The change took Spike completely by surprise. Blood was now running down the back of his throat and he wasn't sure if it was from his nose or if Angelus had caused more damage. He wanted to choke, even though he didn't need to breath he was feeling suffocated. He tried to shuffle back, give himself space, and time to re-establish the rapport he felt they'd been reaching. The back of his head hit the wall and he was trapped. He put his hands up to push Angelus away, only to have them grabbed and held in a bone-crushing grip. Trying not to whimper out loud, Spike forced himself to relax, if this was the way it was going to happen he had to ride it out. Nothing was getting broken that wouldn't heal, and if he couldn't talk properly for a couple of days it wouldn't be the first time and probably wouldn't be the last. Bastard wasn't going to last long anyway.

This wasn't the plan. Much as he wanted to come in his Childe's mouth again, to feel him swallow, the plan was more important. With a groan Angelus pulled away then reached down and brought himself off, straight into Spike's face, covering hair, eyes, and blooded nose with cold come. Yes, that was more like it. Humiliation. Pain and humiliation, then a little pain again, just for good measure.

Fucking bastard. Spike could feel come dripping from his hair and, unable to use his hands to wipe his face, he had no choice but to sit there and let it drip. He tried to shake his head to clear his eyes but the hand gripped his hair again. Bracing himself for another pounding Spike was surprised to find himself pulled to his feet. His damaged leg gave out, but he was able to transfer his weight to the other. As his eyes focused he found himself looking into curious brown ones.

"Your mouth is still good, boy, but what about the rest of you?" Spike shivered. This was not good, a blow job was one thing, but what Angelus had in mind was something he'd not allowed to happen since he had lost his Sire and had become a master in his own right. Having said that, currently, he wasn't in a position to object, so he was not surprised when he was spun round and pushed against the wall. He spread his arms out across the wall and pushed his ass back, bracing himself as best he could.

The human blood he had been feeding on for days was potent and Angelus was as hard as he had been moments before. Gripping the back of Spike's neck with one hand, Angelus pushed his cock teasingly against his Childe's ass. He could feel tight taut muscles instinctively fighting against experience, one to brace the other to relax. He smirked, 'Fight yourself boy', he thought, using those moments of confusion to reach for some things he'd left unobtrusively on the table.

Spike screamed. Pain. Holy shit, that hurt, but not what and where he expected. Out of the corner of his eye he could see what had caused the mind numbing agony in his left wrist. A spike had been driven straight through it, pinning him to the wall. Again pain and Spike tried to throw his head back desperately gasping for unneeded air as another was driven through his right.

"Eleven or twelve? Let's call it an even dozen." The wowerewere murmured in his ear. This time the pain through his knee was almost irrelevant, there was just the sensation of being forced against the wall. The real agony hit later when Angelus got up to eight and ran out of limbs.

"Dammit boy. Will you stop passing out on me?" Angelus paused in his task and pouted, now he would just have to wait again. Still every cloud, and all that; this could be a good opportunity. Blood was flowing down Spike's limbs, red tracks on white skin, such white skin, even for a vampire he was pale. Moving closer, Angelus snuffed at his Childe's hair, inhaling the scent he'd thought was long lost, such a wonderful scent, a little bit of fear, a lot of rebellion, and all Will. He licked the blood from Spike's arm, savouring the taste then, grasping both white hips, drove himself into his Childe's body relishing the sensation as the tight muscle tore.

Spike came round again; he was doing that a lot recently. He should have fed more, better, longer. His body hurt - all of it. The spikes in his limbs created circles of searing heat around them, his head and nose were pounding to a pulse he didn't have, and he could feel something tearing as Angelus forced his way in. He tried to hold still, but twenty years of conditioning betrayed him, and as the cock inside him hit his prostate repeatedly, he could feel himself becoming aroused, despite the pain, his body was reacting as it had been taught.

A hand reached round and grasped his erection, pulling slowly and firmly. "See, boy. I knew you'd remember."

Spike moaned. He wasn't sure if it was the pain or the pleasure, or maybe both? The tearing had slicked his hole so the agony from there was reducing, and was soon overlaid by waves of pleasure. Angelus let his climax wash over him, enjoying the sensation of coming in that tight body and continued to thrust. Spike was panting, his balls starting to tighten. He was so close. So close. The hand suddenly clamped around the base of his erection, effectively cutting off the orgasm that had just about left his balls, and Angelus pulled out fast, leaving him empty and aching. His cock was replaced by the cold steel of a railway spike, which impaled his guts at the precise moment his Sire released his grip and growled; "You can come now, boy." As the darkness closed in again Spike knew that good, well-conditioned demon that he was, he had come on command.

Angelus checked the clock. He had five hours before the pets came back and he wanted to be finished and gone before then, five hours and such a task. He cocked his head to one side and considered his canvas, spinning the sharp blade between his fingers. The stock of blood would ensure that Spike kept coming round, but purely because Angelus enjoyed a musical accompaniment to his work. This part of the plan wasn't about testing, reasserting Sire's righr hur humiliation, it was about a message; a message for the human pets and to the world at large, that he was back. A small incision lifted a strip of white skin and Angelus saw that it was good.

*~*~*~*~*~*

"Spike?" A tentative knocking on the bedroom door followed Fred's voice. "Are you asleep? I have beers and snacks." She hesitated before going in, knowing that Spike tended to sleep naked and a little embarrassed by what she may see.

"Hell, he should've answered the door by now." She muttered under her breath as she pushed the door open with her foot. The room was pitch dark, and Fred could feel something sticky on the wall next to the light switch.

Her frantic screams brought Gunn sprinting up the stairs. Taking one look in the room he grabbed Fred and pulled her away, turning her towards him so she could no longer see. He led her outside and sat her down against the wall. "Fred? Fred?" The screaming at least had stopped but now she just looked blank. "Fred speak to me. Are you okay?" Gunn shook her slightly and saw her glazed eyes come back into focus before she started babbling.

"My god, Charles, Spike! What? How?" She shook her head. "Help him. Get him down. My god, we can't leave him like that. Where's Angel? Is he in there? Is he...dead?" With a sharp shove she pushed Gunn towards the room.

Loath to leave her but understanding the urgency, Gunn opened the door and shied back from the overwhelming smell of blood. Cautiously he walked in, trying to ignore the details that assailed him. Spike was nailed to the wall. Someone, or something, had nailed him to the wall, arms spread wide, legs crossed, and head hanging forward, like a grotesque parody of the crucified Christ. There was blood everywhere - walls, ceiling, and floor, and he could feel the carpet wet under his feet as he approached the suspended body.

He must be alive Gunn rationalised, vampires, dead vampires, make dust not blood, but how - he couldn't understand. He'd seen a few injured vamps in his time but nothing like this. He knew he needed to get Spike down but how, there was so little skin left? It was all lifted and hanging away in long bloodied ribbons and Gunn was sure he could see the white of bone beneath the blood here and there. Nails first, no not nails, spikes, railroad spikes. Whoever had done this knew their victim well; they must have, se Sse Spike's torture implement of choice and the one that had earned him his nickname.

As gently as he could, Gunn released the vampire from the wall, supporting his body against his own, then carried him over to the bed lying him face down, to conceal the most disturbing of his injuries - he would never look at a pepperoni in the same way again. "Fred?" He called quietly. "I've got him down. I think he's going to be okay."

Fred peered round the door suppressing a shu at at what she saw. "Angel?" she asked.

"No sign. Not even a pile of dust, so he either got away or they've taken him."

A small whimper escaped Spike's lips and Gunn almost smiled. He could see that the holes where the vampire had been impaled were already smaller.

"Charles, get me dressings, needles...it's all down in the office. Bring me anything you can find. We need to...we've got to do something. I'm not sure where to start?"

Fred looked at the body on the bed. He looked freshly peeled, yet none of the skin was missing, just lifted carefully away from the flesh in strips. The only place where he was relatively undamaged was his face. She carefully wiped away the blood. On his left cheek was a bloody gouge in the shape of a cross.