Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 24

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Where is Fred?" Angel threw the question out in the middle of the conversation going on around the kitchen table. The talk stopped. His thralls all looked up at him. Grey eyes, blue eyes, and brown. The others looked at each other. "I haven't seen her around in several days." He added.

Gunn looked at him, finishing his eggs, sopping up the yolks, losing his smile, his expression going serious. Doyle glanced away, stirring his Count Chocula. Wesley stared at his plate, empty save for a piece of toast which he had crumbled into bits instead of eating it. His teacup was still full, sitting untouched and cooling rapidly.

"With Lorne." Gunn said when no one else seemed inclined to speak. Kicking out a chair with one foot in a clear invitation for the vampire to sit down and share the breakfast. Angel sat next to Gunn, between him and Graham, Graham moving to make room, but not enough to keep his knee from touching Angel's.

Angel leaned his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his clasped hands. Xander smiled at him from across the table, a shy one that lit up his face. Angel smiled back. Wesley stood up and made his way to the sink, dropping his plate in the tub of hot water. His back was stiff, unyielding.

"Wesley." Angel called after him, feeling the hurt and anger radiating off the man, even from where he sat. The researcher raised his hand and waved it in the direction of the table. "I would like for you to stay." Angel said.

"I can't." The Englishman whispered, his voice choked. And he left the room.

Angel raised his brows. "Why?" He said aloud.

"He thinks you and I made his choices for him, without asking him what he wants. That we are treating him like a child. He wants Balthazar. He has very strong feelings for him. But, since you forbade it, Balthazar won't talk to him, or feed from him. Leaves the room when Wes walks in." Gunn shrugged. "Wes is angry, and to make it worse, he feels like he can't do anything about it. Like you have cut off all of his options."

"I can't change that. Wesley is not safe with him." Angel said. "Balthazar does not view him as a being worth protecting or saving. He feeds. That is all."

"How do you know?" Gunn asked him. All sitting at the table were watching him as he spoke. Once he asked the question, they transferred their attention to Angel and waited for him to speak.

"Balthazar has never treated a human well. He has often espoused that they are cattle and should be kept as such. In pens." Angel told them baldly. Riley nibbled on a slice of cantaloupe, the juice wetting his lips distractingly. Gunn shook his head. Xander looked outraged, Doyle let the colored milk dribble from his spoon back into his cereal bowl, watching the irregular steam. Graham continued eating, his knee pressed tight to Angel's.

"You have been busy. I've been watching them, him, just to be sure he was safe. Balthazar hasn't hurt him." Gunn said, sounding faintly surprised at himself for saying it.

"That doesn't jibe with what you said in the office. Why have you changed your mind?" Angel asked. He was curious, because Gunn would sooner take the side of any human, rather than a vampire's.

Gunn stopped eating, pushing his plate away, apparently succeeding in eliminating his own, normally vast appetite. Xander looked at him, and when Gunn threw his napkin down, Xander reached out and snagged the crispy bacon that had been left on the warrior's plate, munching happily. Riley rolled his eyes, and kept eating from his heaped plate. Graham got up, walked to the refrigerator, took out a new gallon of orange juice and brought it back to the table. He filled Xander and Riley's glasses, looked at Gunn, offering, but Gunn shook his head.

Graham filled Doyle's glass, then sat down. Doyle poked at it, running a finger through the gathering condensation, but didn't drink.

"I started thinking. And Wes has been...complaining. He thinks he should be allowed a chance to see if this will work." Gunn didn't look happy. He had his neutral face on. The one that meant he was doing something that he knew might be wrong, but, he felt he had no choice.

"You are willing to let him take that chance? And if he is killed? How will you feel about the little experiment then? It is too great a risk." Angel looked at him, sharply. "And since when are you the champion of a vampire?"

"I am your champion, aren't I?" Gun said wryly. "So, I guess I have had sort of a head start on championing vampires."

Angel shook his head. "Believe me, Balthazar is not me. I will think on what you have said. I will also talk to Wes. Now, tell me why Fred is with Lorne."

"To keep her safe." Gunn waved an arm, including the entire hotel in the gesture. "Until things settle down around here."

"It won't. It is not going to settle down." Doyle said, speaking up for the first time, since Angel had come into the room. "It is never going to be the way it was." He sounded tired, and worried. He darted a glance at Angel, his expression haunted.

Angel shook his head. There was something going on with Doyle, too. He was much more upset by all of this than he should have been. Doyle had been through things far worse. Now, his eyes were hollow, bleak. Afraid, afraid when he looked at him. At Angel. Why should Doyle be afraid of him? Angel stood up, abruptly crossing over to where Doyle sat. He took Doyle's arm, tugging him to his feet, and brought him close.

"You and I need to talk, now." Angel said. "You need to tell me what has you so spooked."

^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Spike clambered out of the trunk moments after Oz steered the Buick into the covered parking of the Hyperion Hotel. He jumped out, almost as soon as the motor shut off, happy that he'd only had to spend a little more than two hours inside the spacious trunk. Now, he was ready to see just how welcoming his Sire was going to be. He shook the wrinkles out of his duster. No need to present a less than dapper appearance.

He went to the back seat and carefully lifted Nicholas up, swinging the sleeping man over his shoulder, bouncing him a bit to position him, and delivering a somewhat affectionate smack to his buttocks. The slender man mumbled, stirring, and actually put an arm around Spike's torso for an instant, before it fell away as he went back to a deeper, drugged sleep. Spike grinned at Oz.

"Come on, precious, time to meet me Da." He peered around, pointed with the arm that wasn't securing Nicholas on his temporary perch. "There, the stairs. Let's go. No sense wasting time and worrying for nothing."

Oz stepped closer, actually putting a hand on Spike's back. "Then let's go." He said, evenly.

They climbed the stairs in silence. Two flights up, then stopped at the door. Spike turned to face Oz.

"You OK?" Oz asked, when Spike put a hand on his shoulder.

"Yeah. Fine." Spike said. "Listen, stay behind me. Alright? Angel can get a little excited over things."

"Yes. Do you want me to take him?" Oz touched the back of Nicholas' leg. "In case you need your hands free?" Spike thought about that.

"Yeah. Good idea." Spike said, and helped switch Yee from his hold, to Oz's. "Not too heavy for you? Is he?"

"No, I'm fine. I'm stronger than I look, you know." Oz said seriously. Spike nodded.

"I know. Werewolf and all, that's not something I am likely to forget. So. You ready?" Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath, as Oz nodded back. "OK. It's time."

And he opened the door, stepping into the lobby.

A tall, caramel and coffee skinned vampire stood there, he snarled, showing long fangs. Then his eyes flicked behind Spike, lighting on Oz and Nicholas. He sniffed the air, and his dark, dark eyes dilated. Spike could almost see his hackles rising. His voice rumbled, purred, slid like warm oil over Spike's skin. Oil mixed with shattered glass.

"Who are you?" Balthazar asked. His brows lifted towards his hairline. "Who are you to dare bring thralls into my master's home?"

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

Doyle sat as if his legs would no longer support him, collapsing into the chair. Angel took the one next to him, sitting back and watching the pale Irish face. Doyle reminded him, at times, achingly of his native land. He might go months without thinking of Ireland in more than a fleeting way, then Doyle would say something in just such a tone, and Angel would be back two hundred and some years, in Ireland. Remembering.

Angel shook his head. Now was the time to deal with what problems he had presently. Not his reminiscence. Not the past. Doyle was pretty obviously upset. But, he hadn't come to Angel to talk. That bothered the vampire. He and Doyle were friends. He wanted Doyle to be able to talk to him.

"So. What has you so troubled?" Angel asked gently. "You don't want to look me in the eye this last week. Nor do you seek me out and talk. I miss it."

"Are you doing it on purpose?" Doyle blurted out. More aggressively than he had intended. Angel blinked.

"Doing what?" Angel asked, truly puzzled. "What is wrong, Doyle? Tell me and we will fix it. Together."

"When I am around you...I feel...I have to...Like I..." Doyle shook his head, then dropped his head forward to rest on his hands. "I can't even say it!" He mourned.

"You can. Just tell me." Angel encouraged.

"I...when you talk to me, when you talk to your vampires or your thralls...I...when I hear your orders and your commands....I have to fight not to obey them blindly. Even if they are not directed at me." Doyle finally got out. He glanced up to see Angel's reaction. The vampire looked surprised.

"That I didn't expect. The power given by the thralls sometimes touches other demons, not only vampires. And humans. I am sorry that it affects you." Angel tried to convey his sincerity.

"Are you?" Doyle challenged. "Are you sure you are not just a little happy about it? More power? You can make me hop, jump, sit, dance. Probably anything, if you spoke directly at me, ordered me to do something, I don't think I would be able to resist the command. If you told me to jump from the top of the hotel, I'd likely *run* right up there so as not to waste time, and do it!" Doyle rubbed his face. "I hate feeling like this."

"Like what, exactly?" Angel asked him, cautiously.

"Like I'd do anything to make you happy. Like I am always looking for a way to catch your attention." Doyle raised his eyes to Angel's worried face. Angel thought for a minute.

"I thought you and Cordy..." He ventured. Then stopped, frowned. "Am I misunderstanding?"

"No. You aren't." Doyle said. "I love Cordy. She is beautiful, has spirit, fire. I love women. I love the way they feel, the way they smell, the way they look. Cordy and I are...well we...we are together. In a way. Not in an out in the open way, but we are together."

Angel nodded. He'd scented that truth more than once, though the two hid it very well, going to elaborate lengths to conceal it from their co-workers. "Has that changed? Because of me? Because of what I am now? I know she was angry, is she still?"

"She is furious. She has asked me to leave, to stay with her, at night at least, if I insist on continuing to see you at all. But, I can't." Doyle's face contracted. "I tried. I had my bags packed, but when I hit the door...I couldn't go out. I couldn't. I felt like I was being torn in two. I love her Angel, I do."

"Yes. I know. Doyle. I don't know if I can change it, what is happening. It is beyond my control. I would help you if I knew how. Believe that."

"I know. That, in some ways makes it harder to take. Knowing it is all on my end." He held up a hand when Angel went to protest. "No. Don't. There is some part of me that submits to your authority, on a deeper level that I realized. I *serve* you, as if is is my destiny. And nothing is going to change that."

"Is there something I can do to make it easier, since I can't stop it altogether?" Angel was thinking out loud. Doyle shrugged.

"I don't know. I feel...I want...Like I..., Jesus, ghod." Doyle struggled to regain his composure. "That is not the worst of it," he began.

But Angel was suddenly not paying attention, was up on his feet, his face changing to gameface, his eyes going gold, glittering, feral, as he headed for the door. Sudden. So fast. Catching Doyle completely by surprise.

"Hey!" Doyle exclaimed. "Angel! What is it?" He was left gaping at the open door, then once he'd had a second to gather his wits, he raced out after the vampire, in hot pursuit.

Doyle hadn't been able to tell Angel the worst part. He'd been about to, he'd screwed up every last ounce of his courage to do it, had started stuttering his way to the revelation.

Then, before he could, Angel had run.

ne'ichan