Bitch

**Edited 3/5/04**


Throughout the day, Spike moved in and out of consciousness. His left eye was swollen shut, his body riddled with bruises, and he was so goddamn hungry he wouldn’t object to one of Peaches’ rats about now. Captain Cardboard and his olive groupies had come by, surprisingly not rousing him. He had been a bit suspicious when they had surrounded him, but realized when they all began unbuttoning their trousers what was happening. He was being marked – marked with Soldier-Boy scent – and there was nothing he could do about it. They began to jerk off, hurling insults interspersed with sweaty grunts and groans.

*Stupidfuckingcunttakeituglylittlebitchworthlesswhore
fuckingcocksuckeryeahyoulikeityoucheapdirtyslut*

He shivered as plops of warm salty come fell through the metal bars and splattered over his naked, swollen, bloody body. He felt them leave and glanced up at the shadow that hovered above him. Riley Finn’s face was cold and hard. “Eat this, Bitch. You look like shit.” A bag of blood plopped inches from his face. He felt Finn leave and extended a shaking hand towards the bag. His features shifting, he drained it quickly. It wasn’t enough, even by the piss-poor standards he had become accustomed to since being neutered by the Initiative. He lay there, overwhelmed with the feeling of slowly knitting bones, and wept.

God, he missed Angelus. True, his Sire was a bastard, but the older vampire would have taken great pleasure in dismembering the soldiers that had dared touch his boy. *His boy*. It had been a long time since he’d felt the security of *belonging* - the way those strong arms had wrapped him up until there was nothing but the two of them, basking in the other’s presence. That is, until Darla would come in, screeching at Angelus to get his ass in her bed. And then he would go, leaving William in a cold bed that smelled of his Sire. *God, I hate that bitch.* She had taken Angelus away every night, and then she had taken him away for good. He sighed. The last time he’d felt safe was the night before Angelus had left with Darla for Romania.

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

“Now what was that about a chip?” Angel sighed, Xander Harris had to be the most exasperating person on earth. Talking to him on the phone, which he abhorred on principle alone, just made it that much worse.

Listening to Xander explain how a government demon research group called the Initiative had captured his Childe and hindered his ability to feed, and how he had subsequently been forced to seek asylum from his mortal enemy, Angel was speechless. Why hadn’t Spike come to him for help? And furthermore, why did he care?

“Why are you telling me all this, Xander? What do you think I’m going to do about it?” With each word, Angel felt Angelus’ anger rise.

“Angel, the Watcher’s Council may be confused as to what went on in Spike’s past, but you forget, Angel, that I was there – you know, the night you offered me to Spike as a midnight snack? I know that you’re his sire, and I know that it means something to you. Angel, believe me, I checked the manacles and the bathroom before we all left Giles’ place. There is *no way* that Spike escaped on his own…I think he was taken.”

Listening to Xander’s theories on Spike’s whereabouts, Angelus’s thoughts and memories began to surface.

~Flashback~
Angelus gazed at the blonde head resting next to his own. Such a beauty. And he couldn’t get enough of his hedonistic Childe – every time he took his Favored, the need inside escalated, until he was overwhelmed with it; dark and fluid it seeped into every thought, every action. It was getting harder and harder to leave his Childe’s bed for his Sire’s. This wouldn’t do. He…felt. And if Darla ever found out…
~End Flash~

“Angel! Are you there?” Xander’s voice brought him back to reality. *And not a moment too soon.*

“Yeah, I’m here, and I hear what you’re saying, but what exactly do you expect me to do about it?” Angel’s patience was wearing thing with the babbling idiot on the other end of the line.

“Angel….you know what? Fine. We’ll do it your way. I’ll tell you what – how about *I* save your worthless Childe’s ass, and you stay there and brood about your hair?!? Goodbye, Angel. Rot in hell.”

The phone slammed off in the other end of the line. Glaring at the receiver, Angel growled. *My Childe is **not** worthless.*

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

Xander snickered. Despite all his protests, he knew Angel had taken the bait. The big ass couldn’t say no to a situation like this – it fit his carefully sculpted hero image too well. And once he saw what had been done to his Childe…

Xander smiled. Then that fucker Finn would be dead.