Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 23

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Angel stared down at the thick, smooth, ivory stationary he held. Just what he needed, since he had nothing but free time on his hands, he thought sarcastically. He forced himself to read the short, flowery scripted, note again.

Daddy, (he read)

I know you will be happy for me. I have found a darling, sweet girl wandering on the streets at night. I have decided to keep her. She is alone now, and lonely without me. I was hungry, daddy, and I ate her friends before I could stop. She says she is not upset with me. She has forgiven me, and they were so yummy-nummy, she understands. She lets me play with her nice blond hair, I have given her clips to dress it up.

I know you are pleased. I was so lonely after Spikey left to go back to the Hellmouth. Now I have a girlfriend to keep me company. And the other vampires around here seem to like her as well. We are very happy with all the new friends who visit. We all like to sit on the roof and watch the stars fall.

your loving Childe, Drusilla.


Angel dropped the letter onto the desk, looking at it like it was a coiling snake. It was abundantly clear what it meant. Anya, was the missing blond. She was with Dru. In New Jersey, and they were forming their own little ruling court. Dru had taken, or rather been given, a thrall by the Initiative, one who was in reality a thousand year old vengeance demon. He wondered if the Walsh brainiacs knew that. Or if they were aware of Drusilla's own...limitations.

He rubbed his aching eyes. No. He didn't need another headache now. He looked up as the door opened and Riley peered in, gaze searching, then, once he saw the vampire, he slipped into the room, Graham and Xander behind him. They approached, Riley looking concerned. He stopped in front of the desk.

Xander didn't halt in front of the desk. He went around the edge and stood so that Angel's shoulder was in contact with his body. Angel let out a sigh. Good. The contact helped him feel better, eased the ache gripping his brain.

Almost shyly, Xander offered his wrist. Equally solemnly, the vampire accepted the offering, and gently sank his fangs into the the pulse. Xander shifted on his feet, sharing the pleasure of the bite.

The headache vanished as his mouth filled with blood. Potent, fragrant, healing, thrall's blood. Riley and Graham waited for him to finish. When he'd licked the four tiny wounds shut, Graham nodded and Riley spoke.

"There is a visitor." Riley said, for the twentieth time this week. Angel nodded, glancing into the hall over the thrall's shoulder. Searching for the guest. The hall however remained empty. Riley interpreted the question, unasked.

"Wesley is entertaining." Riley said. Angel smirked gently, indulgently. Wesley had turned into quite the hostess of the hotel. All in all it was not a bad thing, this domestic turn of Wesley's. As Riley continued, Angel quickly lost his smile. "Balthazar is watching over him."

Balthazar. How much could that one be trusted to watch over anyone who belonged to Angel? His rich, accented voice, was it Creole? His slinky good looks. His holier than thou carriage. His subtle demands for Angel's blood. He hated humans, they were nothing more than cattle, food, easy bodies. Yet, he could not stop looking at Wesley with eyes that almost ate him where he stood. And Wes, simpering, blushing, letting off all those pheromones, as he flirted from beneath half lowered lashes. Trouble.

Angel led the way down the stairs to the second floor meeting room. He entered the room, and listened to the conversation, so genteel, polite. Doyle pushing the tea cart, an excuse to stay near his friend, Doyle not so cuaght up in Balthazar's charms, suspicious and protective. Wesley adding sugar and lemon, looking up, both of them, when Angel entered. Doyle frowning, faint, almost little enough that Angel could dismiss it. But...those green eyes, he couldn't set their look aside. Doyle was not happy. Was anyone?

Gunn, looming over Wesley as Wes was asking how they all took their tea, the new vampire answering, his eyes intent on the throbbing pulse at Wesley's pale throat. Bruised throat. Gunn glowering at Angel, blaming him. Angel felt the rage boil in his gut. He saw red.

"Balthazar." It was Xander who said it under his breath, a whipser of accusation. The vampire named turned his black eyes their way but otherwise, did not react. His arms remained crossed over his chest. Keeping watch over *his* human. Angel's look promised retribution, and the dark gaze dropped. Then rose to watch Wesley, face carefully blank.

Angel made his way across the room, directly to Balthazar. He cupped the strong chin in his palm, turning the fine featured face his way. He held the other vampire still, feeling every muscle in the cool body protest his action.

"Balthazar." Angel let the name fall from his lips like granite striking the floor. "Do you challenge me? Do you push me?"

Black eyes met his own. Not offering him any response. Not reacting.

"You feed from my people without asking." Angel said, low and warning. "I told you, my people were not to be touched. What must I do to reinforce this rule?"

"I asked." Balthazar responded, his voice thin with the pressure on his throat, Angel's thumb resting, a casual threat, over his Adam's apple.

"Who did you ask?" Angel asked him, rubbing his thumb along the sculpted jaw, just grazing the full mouth, moving aside the lower lip, exposing the beginnings of extending fangs.

"I asked the human." The sneer, though faint, was definitely there. Angel cast his gaze in Wesley's direction. Sure enough, the man was blushing crimson. Did the researcher know what Balthazar thought of him? What the vampire's true feelings were?

"You will ask me. When it comes to my people. I will say yes. Or no." Angel said, leaning in to trace the expanse of dark throat. Wesley's face flamed. "So, Balthazar, may I feed from you?" Angel asked softly, but loud enough that all in the room could hear.

Balthazar swallowed. "My master, my blood is yours to take, or to refuse."

"Yes. That is the right answer." Angel almost purred in approval. He sank his fangs into the stretched throat, not missing the gasp of unwilling ecstasy combined with pain, hands lifting to his shoulders, resting there, and he drank. Hard pulls, but long and slow, drawing it out until Balthazar was shaking against him.

Angel slipped and arm around him, holding him near. He drew in more blood, drank it down. The power in the other's blood would once have impressed him. Now it was not nearly so strong as the thrall's blood he supped from daily. Not nearly as strong as his own. Yet, a tasty repast.

Balthazar let out a sound of surrender, sagging in the larger man's hold. Angel smiled. 'Yes. You want this, what I can give you. You crave it and need it. And only I can give it to you.' He pulled away. Licking until the trickle of blood stopped. A purpled bruise remained on the previously flawless skin. He pushed his thumb into the vampire's gasping mouth, letting the extended fang scrape his flesh.

He counted the drops. Two, three, seven, ten, then he pulled his thumb out, Balthazar's mouth sucking at his digit, tongue working greedily, wanting all of his master's blood he was allowed. His tongue cleaned the streak of blood left on his lips. Then Angel turned from him, hands falling away, the tall vampire leaning into the withdrawing touch as if he could not bear to let it go.

"Your name?" Angel asked, walking over to stand in front of the newest vamp. The light green eyes lifted to meet his, the blond hair caught back in a thick knot at the nape of his neck. Aesthetic look to him. Like a monk of past ages. Angel was intrigued, this one would stay. He had accepted tribute from all twenty of his visitors, tied them to him with blood, but only Balthazar had been told to stay. Now, this one would as well.

"I am Alistair." The new vampire knelt without being asked. His hands by his sides. His face turned up as if to worship the sun.

"Alistair." A whisper of prayer. Angel met those odd green eyes. He traced the edge of the vampire's cheek with his fingertip, down the silken skin, to the edge of the perfect lips. "Let down your hair, Alistair. For me."

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Spike hot wired the car. A rusty, old Buick, with a big back seat and trunk, that he'd located behind a garage. No keys, but a full tank of gas, which was more important now. After he'd be-spelled the soldiers hidden not very well across from the dive he and his thralls had woken up in, he didn't want to show himself at a gas station. Tho it was night, and that meant in Sunnydale it would be a demon at the pump, and just maybe the demon wouldn't share information with the Initiative. Spike snorted. Yeah. Right. Money talks, even with demons. Loyalty, brotherhood was thing of the past.

The big, monster of a car roared to life. And Spike smiled. He loved these old junkers, big as a boat, they were. If they couldn't get to Angel tonight, he'd be reasonably comfortable waking up in the trunk. Not a Honda-pretzel. He loaded his two thralls into the back seat, and wasted no time in hitting the road. He floored it when they reached the long, flat stretch of highway heading down the coast to LA. To his Sire. He shuddered. No telling the welcome they'd receive. Best not to think on it too hard. Trouble would come soon enough.

Oz leaned against the back of the seat, arms resting on the back of the bench seat, and chin on top of them, so he was close to Spike. Spike found he liked, really liked the feel of the boy's hot breath floating over the side of his neck and cheek. Lovely, it was.

"You had sex with him?" The werewolf asked. After they reached the highway and were speeding along. Oz's voice soft, affectionate, not judgemental.

"I thought you were knocked out..." Spike answered, puzzled, then tapped the side of his nose. "Sorry. Forgot about the sniffer."

Oz nodded, forgivingly. "Have a lot to think about, getting us out of Sunnydale. How did it go?"

"How did it go?" Spike looked in the rear view. Nicholas was sitting upright, snoring softly, head lolling side to side. Out. Oz glanced over at him, then back at the vampire. "I think he is asleep. Pretty sure that he is."

"Yeah. Well. He needs his beauty sleep, don't he?" Spike said, thinking about what he should say. Not that Nicholas Yee was anything short of a beauty with or without more sleep. "Wasn't as bad as it could have been." He finally settled on. And that was the truth. No one died.

"What is it going to be like with me and you?" Oz asked quietly, after a pause of a few miles.

"Better than that, precious." Spike assured him. "Not going to be high on some chemical hormones when I go for you, now, will I? Gonna be pure wanting you, love." Oz seemed to think about that.

"How is Angel going to take it, us showing up with you?" Oz asked then.

"The poof is going to freak." Spike stated. "He doesn't like surprises. He tends to deal with them, permanently. Brood-y sort he is."

"I heard that Angel is one of the good guys." Oz stated, repeating what Buffy and the Scoobies, all but Xander, said. Xander who hated the vampire.

Spike couldn't hold back a snort. "Don't know how that little rumor got started, prolly the same way the one about the unsinkable Titanic did. Holds the same amount of water. Listen to the primer on me Da, I'll tell it to ya straight."

"There isn't an Angel separate from Angelus. There never has been. The gypsies thought they could spell a soul into him, make him all good, all suffering, and maybe they changed him a bit, giving him that soul, but more like the killing just finally got to him and he wanted to stop. He has never been just the one you called Angel. Angelus was never banished to some hidey hole, unable to climb out. I should know, he raised me from fledgling, to minion, to sort of master. And he is still the same old vamp."

"Willow said..." Oz started. And Spike shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on the black top as they sped along. Didn't seem safe to take his eyes off the road while speeding along at a hundred plus.

"No. Angel is old and clever. He knows how to seem to be whatever the situation calls for. He isn't a monster, and he isn't a saint. Angel is not kind all the time, and Angelus isn't cruel. Wills just never wanted to believe what her own eyes told her."

"So he never loved Buffy?"

The car swerved, and Spike brought it carefully back under control, reducing his speed to a sedate eighty-five. Mustn't chance on getting his thralls hurt. He winced. Buffy. Poor bird. The car was filled with silence while Spike thought about how to answer that.

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Dr. Walsh was floored. Her surveillance team had lost Hostile 17 and his thralls. Another mess. How could they have failed her again? How did one lose a chipped vampire and one out of commission thrall? Oz was healthy. But Yee was still drugged, and would be for several more hours. How did the teams miss him being carried out?

"I am not ready to talk to you." Walsh told the soldier standing in front of her. "I think you should go out, find my vampire, and report back to me when you have done that." She stood and looked at him. "Because you certainly don't want to tell me you failed."

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"Angel." Gunn strode up to Angel, pulling Wesley behind him. "You have to stop this." He cut his eyes to Wesley's neck, in case Angel didn't get what he was talking about. Doyle entered the room, stopping near the door, listening unashamedly.

"I beg your pardon!" Wesley exclaimed, trying to free himself from Gunn's grasp. "It is no business of yours, who I..."

"Quiet, Wes." Gunn told him, not relinquishing the hold he had on the smaller man's arm. "Balthazar is not good for you."

"Surely, I have the right to conduct my personal affairs as I see fit, without interference, certainly without your approval." Wesley sputtered. Outraged.

Gunn looked down at him. "Not in this case, no. Not with this vampire. You don't let vampires feed off of you. We've talked about it. Why now?"

"I...the past is the past." Wesley said, insistently. "I chose to..." His cheeks reddened.

"To what? Let a vampire suck on your blood? Let a vampire who thinks of you as nothing more than a bag of blood, drink from you? You chose that?" Gunn was incredulous. "No, I don't believe it."

"You don't have the right...." Wes gasped. Paler than before. Hand covering the mark on his throat.

"I do. And I have the obligation to stop it if I know you are hurting yourself. Or letting him hurt you." Gunn asserted. "You are my friend, Wes."

Angel looked at Gunn, admiringly. So strong, so sure. His blood would be so, so sweet.

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