Thralls

Title: Thralls, chapter 28


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Spike leaned back against the wall.

Christ, but his poof of a Sire could fuck! That wasn't what he'd expected at all. He was kind of sorry he'd never found out for himself, but when he'd been with Angel, he'd very quickly become obsessed with a dark haired, mad visionary, named Drusilla. And Dru, well Dru was distracting. And time consuming. And Spike was very quickly interested in nothing else. He shook his head at the memory.

He looked over at the bed. Who'd a thunk he'd be here, now, back with his Sire, and with two thralls in tow? Little William the Bloody Childe. He certainly had been taken off guard by the twists of fate. But, now that he was here....he looked again over at the bed, seeing Nicholas sprawled bonelessly asleep on top of the covers, an arm trailing off one edge. Now that he was here...he was going to make the best of it.

One thing that was clear. His future was tied in with his thralls, and how tightly he could bind them all together would determine how strong he was. How strong he was would in turn determine how he, and they, survived this little blip in his life.

Angel was part of a blood circle. Three thralls, all bound to him now. Willing or more likely unwilling, Angel was in the midst of forming a court, the first American one ever. There were strange vampires here, and Angel would never have tolerated vampires who were not of his blood before. Not residing in his own house. But they were here, Angel was tolerating them, in fact he was ruling and controlling them. They were his followers. Bloody unbelievable.

He was about to get up and go to the bed, to Nicholas who was looking all warm and tempting, when he heard another sound. Three strides took him to the door, he cracked it open, waited, listening, then with a sigh opened it fully. The dark haired Irish bloke was sitting outside Angel's suite. Hunched up, and miserable as could be by the looks of it. Spike shook his head. They were all mental around this place.

Spike stepped out into the hall. The curled up ball of Irish melancholy kept right on crying. Not noticing he wasn't alone. Against his better judgment, which was screaming at him to leave the man alone, Spike knelt down next to him and put out a hand. He touched the man, tentatively, ready to leap back if attacked.

What he didn't expect was the scream of startled rage and the man turning into a...a green, black spiked demon and swinging two fists bristling with six inch talons at him. Springing at him with a growling snarl. Almost catching him across the face with those bloody long nails. They tumbled together, Irish howling, enraged, in pain, anguish. And who, Spike suddenly realized, was as much an eaves-dropper as himself. Well, that put a new spin on it. He struggled to keep from being perforated, not really wanting anyone to get hurt. Especially not himself.

Doyle was a good scrapper, Spike gave him that, he didn't get to find out which of them was the better, because quick as it began, it was over, with the demon scrambling for the stairs and down, like a scalded cat. Spike was left dumbfounded, blinking, which was why he didn't hear and comprehend the sound of locks disengaging until it was too late.

"Sodding hell!" He muttered, scooting towards the door to his suite even as the door to Angel's opened, revealing Angel in all his very naked glory. Angel who was looking pretty upset at being disturbed. Spike froze where he was. He did not want to lure the older vampire into his rooms, where his thralls were. Nope. He preferred Angel stay the hell away from them. Even if it meant Spike had to stay out here and take his medicine for getting caught, apparently snooping.

"Listening at keyholes?" Angel growled, dark eyes ominously flat as he eyed his Childe, with eyes more predatory than they had ever been. Spike swallowed. Yes, his Sire had changed.

"Don't have to now, do I?" Spike managed to shoot back, jerking his head towards the open door to his own rooms. It took Angel less than a second to figure that clue out. And to Spike's relief he smiled, then laughed, throwing his head back.

"You're still a filthy bugger, William." Angel said, affectionately. Then he stopped lifting his head sniffing. "Doyle..." His eyes, fixed on Spike, going ice cold again. Spike held up his hands.

"Not me. He was here," Spike pointed at the carpeted hall at Angel's feet. "I stepped out, he went wonky, we tangled for less than ten seconds, then he took off." He waved his arm, "Down the stairs."

Angel stepped up and looked over the rails. More than one figure was down there, none of them were Doyle. Like two opposites, Balthazar and Alistair were side by side, light and dark, Wesley behind the dusky vamp, looking into the office as Lorne and...someone else, went inside. Angel heard voices. Urgent, soothing, panicked, conciliatory...he went for the stairs. He didn't want to jump all that way again, not without a good reason, the landing was a doozy. He unconsciously flexed his toes.

"Master!" A quiet call, by a soft voice. Spike and Angel both turned, Spike tearing his eyes away from his Sire's naked body, to light on the shortest of Angel's thralls, carrying a bundle of dark silk. Grey eyes intent on his master's face. Keeping Angel between himself and Spike. Smart, Spike granted that. But that wasn't his greatest asset.

"Christ on a crutch," Spike muttered under his breath. The thrall was as naked as the day he was born, his thighs, the cut of his hip, enough to bring a grown man to his knees. The man turned, and Spike bit his lip....with a bum that would drive a saint to weeping.

Spike swallowed hard, Angel would rip his head off for just thinking that. The human held out the long robe. Angel put out his arms wordlessly, and let the thrall wrap him in lush, gold lined, black silk, falling to his ankles, and knot the tie before Angel headed down the stairs, looking like an old world king. Mussed and fluffed, but clearly a king.

Xander came out of the room, with Buffy's old squeeze, Riley, Spike showed him his fangs, but managed not to audibly growl. That one was a sick pup. Paying vamps in Sunnyhell to bite him....Riley didn't even look at him, just handed the short one with the fantastic body another robe, one made of plainer stuff, white toweling. Perfect to set off that tan. Riley stood by for the one moment that it took for his friend to dress.

Then the thralls, one, two and three, went racing down after their master. "Little piggies in a row," thought Spike as he watched them trailing along. Then a movement caught his eye. Oz, wrapped in a green towel, another brown one around his head, peeking into the hall. Spike smiled at the intimacy of the look, it was too cute. He now got to see his own thrall in all states of undress. And, he wouldn't trade Oz for any of the poof's boys, not even the pretty one.

He was at Oz's side in less than a second, lifting the werewolf and carrying him back into the suite, kicking the door shut. He took him right over to the bed, tumbling the two of them onto it, next to Nicholas, who mumbled something incoherent. His wash up apparently not doing him much good, as far as waking him up went.

The memory of Angel's coupling still ringing in his ears, and the vision of the naked, pretty one directed all of Spike's action for the next few minutes. He lay on top of his first thrall. Felt the warmth of the lycanthrope's body sink into his cooler one. Oz accommodatingly opening his legs and letting Spike snuggle between them, up close and personal. Oz's eyes widened a bit, blinking up into the deep blue of the vampire's. Spike smiled down at him.

"Uh. Not sure what I should be expecting here." Oz said, with quiet calm. As Spike buried his nose in the warm, slightly damp skin at Oz's throat. He felt the pulse surge against his lips. He lifted his head before he gave in to the need to sink in his teeth.

"Nothing much, love. Just a bit of a snog." Spike said back, laughing at the expression of bewilderment. "You Yanks call it kissing." He clarified, and Oz's expression cleared.

"Oh, right." He lifted his chin. "Snog away." Spike fought it, but in the end he had to give in, he giggled.

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Angel walked into the office, Balthazar and Alistair behind him, and his thralls further back. Lorne looked up at their entrance. Doyle was sitting, huddled in the desk chair, looking small and weak and vulnerable, that despite his being in his prickly demon form. Lorne was next to him, looming over him, one of his large, very green hands on the other demon's back. At the vampire's entrance. Lorne straightened.

Fred let out a squeal, running over to Angel, evading the grab Lorne made for her. Throwing her arms around the vampire's waist. Angel returned the embrace. Held the small, fragile boned woman close. Lorne watched him with cautious eyes.

"Hello, Fred." Angel said. "It is good to have you home." Angel let Lorne see his expression as he met the other's gaze. Lorne lowered his hand. Angel let his own face relax. "Why have you come back?" Angel whispered, directing his question to Lorne.

"She wanted to come home." The Host said. He looked over Angel's shoulder. "Hi, guys." Then back at Angel. "There are things that the others want to talk about. Rule and control issues. I have to say, sweetie, you have upset more than one apple cart. I am here to hear your side of it. As the representative of combined demons' interest."

Angel nodded. Then looked at Doyle, who hadn't moved. He wanted to tell everyone to leave him with the half demon so they could talk. He also knew he couldn't. Not now. "I expected this. Let's talk." Angel said to Lorne. He kept his arm around Fred.

"But, not here. Upstairs. Wes could you....?"

"Of course Angel. I'll be up in a moment." The Englishman disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.

"Lorne, you know the way. Doyle..if you are up to joining us?" Angel waited for the small nod. "I will be with you in a moment." He hugged her again, and let Fred go. Then headed up to the conference room.

Spike forced himself not to carry this to it's obvious and much desired conclusion. He sat up leaving Oz dazed and panting on the bed. "Rest a bit, precious. I'll be back in a flash."

He needed to find out what was going on with the visitors. He adjusted his hard on to be a little less conspicous as he walked to the door, poking his head out in time to see Angel and his thralls enter the big room at the end of the hall. Followed by the blond vampire who had tackled him, and the dark one with whom he had fought. Uptight wanker.

Behind them came the short pale skinned humanoid...Doyle, head hanging, looking as dejected as was possible. One step behind him was a tall, green demon and a tiny human girl, tucked snuggly under one arm. The elevator opened smoothly, with a soft chime, and out came Wesley, wheeling a heavy, brimming tea cart. Spike perked up. He hadn't had a proper tea in years. He stepped out in the hall, and shut the door behind him. No time like the present.

Spike sauntered down the hall and stopped in the doorway to the room. Large. Open. Lots of couches and chairs. Wesley pouring, plenty of cups for one more, Spike saw with satisfaction.

Happily he stepped into the room, Angel and the vampires seeing him immediately, but not reacting much. He walked up behind Wes who was handing a cup to the green demon.

"Got enough for me? I could use a good cuppa." Spike said, not overly loud or with the intent to frighten anyone. But Wesley let out a shriek of surprise and dumped the cup in the green one's lap. The demon leapt to his feet, and jumped back, his steaming trousers soaked through. The little human girl went flying, and landed in Doyle's lap. He was shocked out of his stupor, grabbing for her to steady her, missing by a mile, and she tumbled over his legs to land on top of the cart. Which promptly overbalanced, and fell onto it's side. China, tea and biscuits flying off. All of it landing on or around Angel's bare feet and ankles.

Spike stood immobile, blinking at the mini disaster as it unfolded all around him. Wesley had a hand to his chest, panting. Staring at Spike as if he was the second coming, and not much welcome at that. Spike for his own part was undecided whether to cry over the spilt tea or to burst out laughing. He settled for shaking his head in disbelief.

Spike shook his head, wonderingly. "What is it with you people?"

ne'ichan
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