Drink Me

When Angel arrived at the Bronze he half expected to find the Slayer out front standing by a large heap of ash looking embarrassed. He didn't and found that worrying, there was no way that Spike could of hurt her, was there.

Barely acknowledging the greeting his doorman shouted at him he stormed inside, owning the main club in Sunnydale at least meant he and his friends never got turned away. He made his way quickly through the crush towards the Slayerettes table, hoping to find both his childer there.

All there was however was Oz and Willow, smooching, heavily. Angel looked around frantic, what if their enemies had struck and somehow kidnapped the pair.

"Ahem!" The couple didn't break contact. "AHEM!"

Willow looked up startled. "Oh, hi Angel, we didn't see you there."

"I can't think why Will," Angel smiled at them despite his concern and asked. "Is Buff around here."

"Buff as in Buffy...." Willow looked to Oz for moral support. "Oz do we know where Buffy is."

"Buffy's on the dance floor man, dancing'," he nodded in the direction of the floor. "With Spike."

"DANCING WITH SPIKE!" Angel turned and pushed through the crowd again. "Why would she be dancing with Spike?"

"Every time that vampire turns up there's trouble." Willow wondered how Angel would react to the actual sight if that's what the thought did for him. "Spike I mean, not Angel, last time he....well you know."

Oz just leaned over and kissed her again, last time had been last time, this time was this.

Passing Xander and Anya, Angel nodded to the teen who gestured with a thumb towards the further end of the floor, and there as far from her friends as she could get, danced Buffy.

His damned grand childe was with her, they were separated by inches, not facing one and other though, worse in his opinion. The Slayer was dancing in front of Spike just casting occasional glances back over her shoulder, laughing as she did so at the vampire. He was hardly moving alternating glances at her face and at her ass.

Angel walked over and swinging round the girl shouted at Spike. "I thought I told you to meet me at the Mansion!"

"Yeah you did," Spike tried to look round his Sire, only to have move to stay in front of him. "But I don't take orders from you, and stop standing between me and the Slayer. We were dancing here and your spoilin' my view ."

"Dancing, she was dancing for you not with you." Angel leaned down bringing his nose to within an inch of Spike's. "Keep your eyes of my woman or I'll rip them out of your head."

"You and whose army........?"

A blond head suddenly appeared between them. "Hey Mr Possessive, I'll dance with who I like, you don't own me." Buffy turned to Spike. "Now William you play nice, you go off and wait by the table while I argue with my boyfriend."

"Sure Luv, give him one in the eye from me." With a leer at the Slayer and a smirk at his Sire Spike departed the field.

"And your problem is." From the set of Buffy's jaw Angel knew he hadn't a chance, but still waded in.

"His eyes where all over you." So were his, she was looking beautiful, and angry. "And you virtually had your ass in his face."

"Bullshit." Buffy turned around. “Was he kneeling, no. Was I standing on a chair, no. You better work on your sense of perspective before you try that kind of argument. Now lets get Spike home before he eats anyone."

"Yeah," Angel had a mental image of Spike eating someone, Buffy. "I've been thinking, maybe Spike would be more comfortable staying in a motel."

"Thank you for that, now I know you think I'm a tramp." Buffy was trying hard not to laugh at the expression on her hotties face. "Spike stays with us, so come on let's go home."

"Alright," resigned to his fate Angel followed his girl as they headed for the exit.

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

"You mean I've got to be a bloody farmer." Spike's outraged voice echoed down the alleyways as they headed for Angel's car. "Can't I hunt at all, what if I promise not to kill them, or just kill very very bad people?"

"Not one drop of human blood while your living in Sunnydale." Buffy had her resolve face on, it made Spike think of church organs. "Or should that be unliveing, whatever, you eat with us, you sleep with.....under the same roof as us. If the bad guys turn up we kick ass, if they don't we party hearty and bond as a family."

She looked up at him, pouting slightly. "You say you want to be like my brother, can't you make just that little sacrifice, just for me?"

Spike looked into her hazel eyes and was lost. "Alright pet, bagged blood it is. But only while I'm here."

He caught his Sire's smirking expression and sticking his hands in his pockets fell behind the two lovers. "Bloody poof, only 'as one facial expression, what the bleedin' 'ell she see's in the dolt I'll never know, waste of a fine woman......should get 'erself a real man.......speakin' of which."

"We can hear you," Buffy smiled at Angel and taking his hand gave it a gentle squeeze. "And he's more manly than most men."

Spike murmured lower. "Yeah, like you've got anythin' to compare the bloke with, now if you'd tried........" He looked over his shoulder a van was coming up behind them, it had its lights out and a door in the side was sliding open. A man was leaning out with something black in his hands.

Angel was just getting his keys out to take the alarm of his car when something slammed into his back, he hit the ground hard with Buffy beside him and Spike on top. "Are you..........?”

A burst of automatic gunfire tore the night air apart glass fragments rained down on them as the car was raked. "Stay down for gods sake." Spike screamed into their ears.

Then the van was past, not stopping, the door slamming shut as it sped off into the night.

"Now that was unusual." Buffy struggled out from under the blond vampire. "Even on the Hellmouth I've never been drive by shot at before, I've skinned my knees, its a good thing the sidewalks clean because I like this outfit, I guess lucky I didn't break my wrists and I'm going to rip the balls of the guys who did that vamps or not." She gently pushed loose strands of hair back into place. "Thank you Spike, that might not of killed us but it would have hurt, I'm glad we have you around."

"Don't mention it luv," Spike was smiling as he watched his Sire take in the damage to his auto. "All part of the service. Chin up Angel it could have been worse."

"How?" Angel knew there was no way he could report this and get an insurance payout, the repair was going to be costly.

"We could have been stood next to my motor," Spike reached for his cigarettes. "I have to say though It's not what I was expectin', it's not very vampiric driving past with a shooter."

"Kids today!" Buffy shrugged. "If you’re recruiting in LA this is what you get."

She looked at her pissed off Sire. "Come on Angel take us home, if the car still works that is. When we get there I'll make it all better for you."

Under his breathe Spike whispered. "Lucky sod!"

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

They'd fed and Angel had shown a very jealous brassed off house guest to his room and now he was sat in just his leather pants watching his girl as she sat at her dressing table, brushing her hair.

"Are you still cross?" She suddenly asked. "Cause I danced with him."

"It was the way you were dancing," Angel wished he could see her face in the mirror, not the glamour; she could hide her true feelings in such circumstances to easily. "He was staring straight at your ass."

"Well do you blame him," Buffy put down the brush and walked over to him. She was wearing a silk robe and not much else. "You don't need to be jealous, you get to see it much closer."

Turning she dropped the robe revealing a black wonder bra and a thong. "Rules of the establishment, no touching till I say so."

Angel's mouth went dry. "Buff what are you going to do?"

Placing a hand on Angles firm thighs she gently forced them apart and sat back on his lap. The feel of the leather on her skin was so good, as was the rapidly forming erection that pressed against her.

"This, cost you at least $20 dollars in most establishments, my rates are cheaper, you just have to make me cum lots of times later." She replied, and began to work her hips, Angel groaned and balled his hands into fists gripping the bedding to stop himself grabbing her. "So Mr, are you still jealous of Spike?"

"Not......in......the.......least."

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

In his room Spike tried to sleep, wishing he wasn't a vampire and so wouldn't be able to hear bed springs from the opposite end of the house. "What the bleedin' 'ell does she see in 'im."

With that he pulled his pillow over his head and eventually managed to get off top sleep. And dreamt about the Slayer and a large Sherry Trifle.

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

It was four in the afternoon and the Slayererettes were in emergency session at the Mansion. The Slayer and Willow had come there straight from College, Xander had yet to start his shift at the Peach Pit and the Watcher was on paid leave till his library's reconstruction was completed.

Oz was gainfully unemployed, the band was playing tonight and he was three weeks from a full moon. He sat there waiting for someone to suggest something he could do.

Standing carefully clear of the little sunlight in the room Angel and Spike lurked. Angel seemed more contented that he had been last night, and was visibly yawning, a sight that had the equally tired Spike scowling every time his Sire drew in unneeded air.

"So you have no idea who was responsible for the attack?" Giles looked at the three attackee's and their baffled faces. "But we know it wasn't vampires."

"Since I got to be undead girl I can sense vamps a block and a half away. Even walking next to my hunk o'burnin love and blondie over there I'd have known." She looked at Angel and Spike. "You two guys agree?"

"No vamps involved," Angel looked at Spike. "Did you feel anything?"

"No mate I didn't get a feel all night," he grinned and added. "Unlike some I could mention."

"Spike," Buffy sounded all-coy but her smile indicated she had plenty of memories to be happy about. "Behave."

"Is it the Brit's?" Xander broke in before the conversation got any skankier. "Could you guys have just been confused with somebody else?"

"What, mistaken identity, unfriendly fire." Buffy shook her head. "From what Spike says I reckon those guys followed us for awhile making sure they had the right targets in their sights. I figure it's down to Lordy Boy."

"I concur," Giles looked round the tense faces. "Beresford proved in the cemetery that he doesn't object to using a gun. Angel can you remember if he ever used to employ humans?"

"He didn't when I knew him." Angel had been brooding a lot over the atrocities he'd participated in at the club over the last few days, he would have remembered. "But after what Buffy did to his chief goon, he may have had a re-think."

"Guys are we overlooking other possibilities," Xander failed to notice how everyone was suddenly staring at him. "Angel and Spike where there too. Maybe somebody was shooting at them."

"What you think we might have two sets of crazies attacking us at the same time," Willow looked across at the two vamps hoping they wouldn't support that alarming thought. "Got any enemies Spike?"

"Not living," he smiled. "Other than the ones in this room that is. What were you doing at the time of the incident Red?"

"Smooching Oz," Willow looked at Oz. "He's my alibi. What about you Angel."

"What about you me?" The dark haired vampire shrugged. "What reason would anyone have to fire ordinary bullets at me, all my enemies know I'm a vamp."

"The Bronze," Xander chimed in again. "Angel owns the only real night spot in Sunnydale, it's a small town but it's a good business. Have you had any natty little Italian guys wanting to buy it from you, or any incidents with drugs recently."

"Drugs!" The Slayer asked startled. "You think this could be drug related, or somebody's trying to make Angel an offer he can't refuse?"

"I'm just casting out ideas." Xander began to notice the attention. "What I can't have ideas."

"Oh your ideas are good," Willow patted his arm reassuringly. "We just don't know what they mean."

"Has anyone been thrown out for dealing recently?" Xander asked. "Dudes who might want to get back at the guy who owns the club."

"Not that I know of but I'll ask." Angel didn't do that much hands on management.

"If it's some drug dealer can I kill 'im?" Spike asked hopefully eyes all agleam. "Drug dealers and pimps blood doesn't count as human does it Slayer?"

"It's an interesting point for debate." Buffy heard a muted gasp from Willow. "One we can talk over later vamp to vamp, but personally I think its Lordy Boy. What do we do about him, personally I vote we go to LA find him and slay."

"LA is a big haystack Buffy, he's a small needle." Oz startled everyone with this sudden contribution. "How do you know you could find him?"

"And you have college to consider," Giles added. "You can't simply disappear."

"Plus they know you Slayer, the vamps in LA." Spike knew how widely Buffy's rep had travelled in the vampire community. "He'd be bound to hear about you before you do him, he'd ever run or send more people against you."

"I'm sorry and I know it goes against the grain but we have no choice but to wait for their move." Giles rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Whatever that may be."

"Don't worry luv," Spike shouted hoping to ease the Slayers worries. "Bloke's a bloody aristo, a nob. He doesn't 'ave my native wit, my intelligence. I'll out think 'im for you no trouble."

"Thanks Spike," for a second the vampire basked in the glow of the Slayers smile then his face fell as she added. "Now I know we really are in the......"
*************************************************

In England Lord Charles usually passed the daytime hours in luxurious apartments in suburban London, or in his Georgian town house nearer the city centre, he therefore considered an abandoned warehouse in the San Fernando Valley to be somewhat of a climb down socially. Certainly it was well equipped and lavishly protected from the sun, his associate money had been well spent the LA clan had kept up there side of the bargain, but still he was slumming it and that he didn't like.

The Englishvamp was pissed, nothing was going right for him and at the rate he was progressing he would never secure the Slayer. It didn't help matters that it was all his fault.

A month ago the word had reached England a slayer has been turned. It had been centuries since it had last happened and a shudder of fear had run around the world as one undead clan after another contemplated potential subjugation, or the hoped for destruction of the mortal world and the dawn of an age of blood.

At Club Tepes however eyebrows had merely been raised and then vampires had gone back to reading the Times, they might go running about worrying in other parts of the world but this was England. That was the general consensus except for one member who put his thinking cap on and with a cruel smile on his face rang some American sources to find out the truth of the rumours.

In the two weeks that followed Lord Charles had outlaid some of his own vast fortune and found out the important fact that the girl still had her soul, straight away an evil plan had formed in his mind and he made haste to put it into effect. He would give the Club back its glory.

Think of it a captured Slayer caged for all to see and use, immortal, able to recover from the most painful tortures, kept naked save for delicate magically enhanced silver chains. Still better forced before an appreciative audience to feed on the blood of living human victims. What a draw to new membership that would be.

After prolonged negotiation the council of six had agreed to the finance. Five million pounds was placed at his disposal, for a minute he was happy at the prospect of reflected glory, then they informed him he must lead the operation and provide the minions involved and if he failed he need never return.

Nothing ventured nothing gained, he had travelled to Sunnydale and met disaster. The casual ease with which the Slayer destroyed Tighe had alarmed him beyond measure, he found himself faced with the prospect of spending the next few centuries amongst these 'Colonials', and something had to be done. It had been and failure had resulted again.

As he walked to the corner of the building in which he had an office constructed the vampire reflected bitterly that the nothing had gone well. Two mortals servants of the local vampires had claimed they could, "Deal with the Mo Fo bitch," they had failed, and his associate's in England had now sent over two 'advisers' to protect their investment. They it had turned out weren't even gentlemen, but mere low common 'trade'.

So the office door slammed open and without looking round him Lord Charles stomped over and sat behind his desk a petulant expression across his face. Looking up over the desk he took in the unsavoury company he was forced to keep due to his stupid lust for glory.
Firstly sat in front of him, sullen and disgruntled sat two gang bangers, leather jackets, black combats and tee-shirts made them fairly nondescript but the jewellery that adorned their fingers and the jailhouse tatt's on their hands and necks marked them out for what they were, killers for hire.

Just behind them stood the man who had smuggled the noble vamp and his associates into America, Ahmed Bakull 'The Turk', he had an embarrassed look on his face as a result of the men he had recommended's failure. He would have to make up for the error, from his own pocket or face the loss of honour that would result.

And leaning on the back wall stood two smirking fellows, Harry Greenaway and James Cahill Browne, both of whom had informed Lord Charles he was wasting his time with this plan, now had the look of vampires ready to gloat.

"It wasn't our fault, you assholes never said the bitch's friends could move so fast," the larger of the two mortals said before Lord Charles could even speak. "I opened up on them but they was out of my sights before the first bullet left my gun."

"We should have been told, you mutha fuckers never even said what she was, shoot her and pick her up, it'll be easy, ha." The wheelman was a rat like fellow with an anchor tattooed on his cheek, he was the leader of the pair. "You owe us two thousand American either way you undead fuck and we aim to collect."

"Cash on delivery old fellow, no Slayero means no dinero," Lord Charles smiled as the little gangsters face twisted up in anger. "Surely Bakull told you the terms."

"We got expenses asshole, and we got guns." His hand slipped into his jacket and he sneered at the Peer. "You and the Turk can stick the terms up your ass, and they you can give me my fucking money."

"It's a pity that you won't be reasonable, still..." Lord Charles snapped his fingers. "You're easily deposed of."

Both men went for their guns, the driver only half drew his before a knife hilt appeared in the back of his right arm, the blade of the throwing knife was buried deep and he cried out as his fingers lost their grip on his own weapon.

The gunman drew a semi automatic, then wheeling tried to bring it up to fire at the three vamps behind who posed the greater threat. Bakull was ready though, a lashing kick sent the big man's pistol spinning across the room and before he could recover the Turk had his fangs in the mans neck, his life's blood quickly poured away.

"You murdering Mutha fucka's I'm gonna kill you all," blood was running down the wheelman's arm and dripping from his leather sleeve but still he tried to pick up his gun. "Just let me get my piece you bastards."

"Excellent throw Browne, but the beastly fellows drippin' on me carpet." Bakull let his victim drop and looked round at the driver even as Browne moved in swiftly and kicked the dropped gun aside.

"A knife, you fucking coward what kind of bastard uses a knife....." The wheelman made only choking noises from then on as the vampire’s left hand closed round his neck. From his waistband Browne drew a twelve-inch knife, like a butchers blade but etched with silver in bold patterns, a tiger hunt down one side, a falconry scene on the other.

"Chubbarao you banchut bastard or by Kali I'll mat karo you now."
Browne stood five foot eight, he was heavily built, his hair had an old fashioned cut, a short back and sides, and he reeked from the brylcream he smeared on it. He wore an extravagant moustache that completely covered his lower lip but not his fangs. There was a glint in his yellow eyes as he delicately ran the tip of the knife across the anchor tattoo sending a line of blood running down his captives face.

"Huzoor." He addressed his employer. "Shall I hallal the infidel dog now or do you want me to cut some pieces off him first?"

"What's he on about Greenaway?" Lord Charles turned to Browne's companion. "He knows I can't understand a word of that heathen lingo."

"Jamie wants to know do you want the blokes throat cut, the hallal." Harry Greenaway had found himself hooked up with Browne when the fellow had turned up in London in the 1950's and had killed the first four vampires who'd challenged him. Browne had not even attempted to secure submission just offered them a violent death, the Vampires Council had liked the thought of such a man in their employ and Greenaway had found himself lumbered with making sure the apparent madman was aimed in the right direction.

"No he's made enough of a mess in here as it is." The Peer turned towards the Turk who was looking even more embarrassed by the turn of events, as well he might. "Get rid of the bugger Bakull, and see this doesn't happen again."

There was an unrestrained snort of derision from Browne, nobody buggered up an operation he was running and lived . However Bakull would it seemed get away with in, for now. One handed he threw the mortal to the Turk. "Remember by Shaitan that the knife in him is mine."

"All right," fangs gleaming the Turk dragged the man outside, muffled screams could be heard and then just the sound of someone noisily drinking.

No one in the office raised an eyebrow at that or the body on the floor; Lord Charles looked at his 'advisors' and asked the question they were waiting for. "Well, alright what do we do?"

"Jamie 'as a plan boss, you won't understand it but he 'as." Greenaway knew how much his friend would enjoy what followed; so let him get on with it.

"Huzoor even with a Lashkar you couldn't take this bahadur of a girl, even I would not attempt it, but......" And here the vampire raised a hand to stop an interruption, "A source from back in Sri Lanka has told me of a pig of a human right here in LA, a badmash who unlike those two loose wallahs will be able to 'elp us take the Slayer. He, I and my brother 'ere will do the task in a pukka razzia."

"What's he on about?" Lord Charles regarded the two with the utmost contempt on his face, ill educated ruffians the pair. "I know he's ballie English same as you and me, why does he have to spout that gibberish."

"Yes boss, 'e was born in England but 'e spent seventy odd years in India, Afghanistan and points East, 'e's gorn a little native."

Harry looked at his friends beaming face and translated. "He says with a hundred blokes you couldn't take her, she's a hero. An old eastern contact 'as fixed us up with the name of a man who can help us. He's a scoundrel but better than the two thievin' bastards we just offed. We get the bloke on side and we'll go on a properly organized raid."

"Its wot I said." Browne nodded his affirmation.

"How much." Lord Charles was spending other peoples money still, but the point was drawing near when he would have to start laying out his own.

"We h'aint done the bandobast yet but a jirga's been arranged at a bar were the cunchunee's can distract 'im."

"We've arranged a meet at a strip club, a place were vamps aren't frowned on, we'll talk the business over there," Harry got to the difficult part. "The blokes a professional so it'll cost, we 'ope to get him for $100,000 but it could go higher. It'll be cheaper than the Taraka though."

"I'm being a 'untsman I expect well 'ave I'm, an for h'about that." The Indian sub continents only white vetala hastily concealed his Khyber knife. "Then oft we go grab up your Slayer an it's all tik hai."

"It had better be." Lord Charles regarded them coldly. "Don't come back here without her, you saw what happened to the last two failures."

"With a great peri like you in charge how can we fail." Browne winked at Greenaway, sending him the message, 'Go on translate that.'

Having no intention of calling his temporary superior a fairy Greenaway simply added. "Well we're off then M'lud, expect us back in a couple of days, and please 'ave the spondulicks 'andy the bloke will want to be paid."

**********************************************
"You really are starting to get on my tits you know with all this Indian nonsense." Harry had waited till he got into the lot before turning on his friend. "You made us look like a right couple of berks in there."

James just tapped his nose. "An that's why everyone finks I'm mental see, they under estimates me. A lot of people have met fatal h'accidents as a result of that old son, as you should well recall."

"Yeah I know it," Harry Greenaway had seen some chilling things during his association with the vetala. "But 'is nib's ain't like all those blokes you've nobbled back in London, 'e's got connections."

"And a screw loose," Spitting contemptuously in the direction of the building Browne opened the car door. "There's no way I'd 'ave that girl chained up in my living room like 'e would. Gods it would be as bad as keeping a couple of full grown Bengal's in there on a short leash, worse h'actually cause with tigers when you gets sick of em and knocks em on the 'ead at least you gets a rug out of it."

"Well that's 'is problem," Greenaway got behind the wheel. "An' you remember the strippers are there to distract the 'unter not you."

"Tik hai mate, tik hai."

Swift driving took them to a more highly populated part of the Valley and to a club they both frequented, though not necessarily for the girls.

It didn't have a sign outside saying it but the policy was as at the Alibi room, Vamps Welcome.

The two parked and walked in past nodding security, both vamp and human, music blared out from the doors and inside the clientele mixed freely. Vamps had money and there was business to be done. Dragging his associate behind him patently ignoring the gyrating girls, Greenaway headed for the bar.

There sat the man they had come to meet, he had dark hair and wore a black jersey and jeans, but what made the vampire sure about having the right man was the string around his neck from which hung wolf canines.

"Good evening mine 'ost," the vetala said to the barkeep. "Two pints of the usual please and whatever me laddo 'ere is 'aving."

Turning to the hoped for end of their troubles James extended his hand. "James Cahill Brown at your service mate, I 'ope we're goin' to do some right profitable business together."

"Gib Cain," the big game hunter shook the cold hand without any trace of fear. "For your sake it had better be, I turned down a pretty hot tip on a Werewolf to be here."