Vices of My Blood

Author's Note: Warnings: Torture, Extreme Language, Sexual Situations, Violence Buffy/Spike; Drusilla/Angelus Pairing

Chapter 7



At some time during the night Buffy began to sleep easier and Spike had shifted his body so that she was more comfortable, curled against his side with her head on his chest. After having watched her sleep all night, to see that nothing was abnormal outside of her healing wounds, he dozed into a light sleep.



It didn’t seem that any length of time passed before his vampiric hearing picked up the grunts and growls of his sire and grandsire from the room at the end of the hall. His chest constricted at the thought of his sire writhing under the bulk of his grandsire. If he had a heart he figured it would have stopped at the guttural sounds his hearing singled out.




No matter how hard he tried to shut the noises out of his mind, the image they had carved in his mind was as bright as a neon sign that undoubtedly read: ANGELUS’ PROPERTY. He wouldn’t have put it past his grandsire to have Drusilla tattooed with those words if he wanted. Spike smirked. What would be the point in tattooing when Angelus love of torture was better, be it physical or mental. Angelus’ way would be to send the ethereal beauty that is Spike’s sire over to an unsuspecting bloke and have her drain him.



That had him remembering when he had first met Drusilla after Cecily had turned down his favor . . .

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



London, 1880



Darla looked down at the dead sailor that she, Angelus and Drusilla had shared for dinner. He was a handsome man with fine lines and a not a blemish to be seen. “So beautiful. Perhaps we should have preserved that beauty for eternity, Angelus,” Darla said thoughtfully.



“Still he won’t now age, will he?” Angelus’ question was more scoffing than he intended it to be.




“No, but he’ll rot. It doesn’t seem right to have something so beautiful go to waste,” Darla answered.



“I could hop into him, like I did the ocean,” Drusilla said as she licked the blood from her fingertips.



“Of course you could, my dear,” Darla agreed as if she were placating a child.



Drusilla caressed her stomach. “I’m full and warm, yet all alone.” Her voice sounded distant.



Angelus took his childe under his arm. “That’s not true, precious. You’ve got us.”



“Not in the least,” Drusilla scoffed. “You won’t even have me just a little.”




Darla opened her arms. “All you have to do is ask.”



Drusilla turned away from the couple. “No, he’s too full of you, grandmother.”



Darla’s brows furrowed in agitation. “Stop calling me that.”



Drusilla’s comment struck Angelus’ funny bone and he chuckled as he tried to take his two girls under his arms only to be elbowed in the ribs by Darla before she pulled him down the street.



Drusilla followed at a quick pace, trying to apologize for upsetting her grandsire. “Don’t be cross. I could be your mummy.”



Angelus gave Drusilla a serious look. “Drusilla, Princess, if you’re lonely, why don’t you make yourself a playmate?”




Drusilla’s lips curved into a ghost of a smile. “I could. I could choose the wisest and bravest knight in all the land, and make him mine forever with a kiss.”



That was when William, still crying from Cecily, bumped into what was to be his new family and dropped his notebook. He bent to retrieve it and stumbled on.



“Bloody hell, watch where you’re going,” William threw behind him without looking back. He scurried to a back alley then to weep alone.



Darla looked back to see William scurry off and snarked, “Or you could just take the first drooling idiot that comes along.”



Angelus laughed at his sire’s humor. “Do you think she’ll find a good one?”



“I found you, didn’t I?” Darla asked as they walked on leaving Drusilla behind starring after William.




Drusilla had followed his scent to the alley behind the barn where he had perched himself on a bale of hay where he was shredding the rest of his poetry. She stood there and watched him for a moment before she spoke and startled him.



“I wonder . . . ,” Drusilla started to say in a calm voice belied her insanity, “what possible catastrophe came crashing down from heaven and brought this dashing stranger to tears?”



“Nothing. I wish to be alone,” William sniffled as his tears abated.



Drusilla had looked into his eyes, deep into his very soul and said, “I see you. A man surrounded by fools who cannot see his strength, his vision, his glory.” She stepped closer to him. “That and burning baby fish swimming all around your head.”



Spike tried to back away from the ethereal beauty but came up short as the bale of hay stopped his retreat. He held up his hands to ward her off, “That’s quite close enough. I’ve heard tales of London pickpockets. You’ll not be getting my purse.”



Drusilla smiled at the naïve man that William was. “Don’t need your purse.” She carefully reached out her hand and touched his chest and his temple. “Your wealth lies here . . . and here, in the spirit and . . . imagination. You walk in worlds the others can’t begin to imagine.”




William was fascinated by her insight into his character. “Oh, yes! I mean, no. I mean . . .” He was struck speechless when Drusilla opened the collar of his shirt.



“I see what you want,” Drusilla whispered. “Something glowing and glistening. Something . . . effulgent.”



Drusilla had shocked him. Finally he had met someone who he had thought understood him. “Effulgent,” he agreed.



“Do you want it?” Drusilla asked, her eyes staring into his soul.



William had never wanted anything more, so he gave himself up to her without concern. “Oh, yes! God, yes!”



Drusilla looked down for a moment as her features shifted and her fangs descended. Spike was more confused than afraid at the time. She pulled back his shirt collar and buried her fangs in his neck. He had cried out at the initial pain, but then his cries quickly turned to moans of pleasure as Drusilla ended his human existence.




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



He had shaken the memory away just as he felt it. His eyes snapped open when he had felt the link that he had built up between his sire and himself over the last hundred years shrivel to just that of sire and childe. He could guess only one thing that had happened. Angelus had laid his claim on Drusilla. It was finalized now. He could no longer delude himself with ideas that he could win over his beautiful sire.



He watched Buffy sleep as he thought about Angelus and Drusilla. He still felt a sire/childe bond with his Black Goddess, but he couldn’t feel her in his mind the way he used to. The one thing that had made him come wide awake was the emptiness he felt in his very being the second Angelus had claimed Drusilla. The barren feeling was gut-wrenching and hallow.



Spike looked down at Buffy’s still form, watching her chest rise and fall with each breath. She looked like an angel when she was asleep; a crown of blond hair, soft skin, fresh face. For a moment he wondered why Angel never claimed her as his own, but then knowing Angelus, he knew the demon wouldn’t care for the Slayer at all other than to try to kill her. He knew that Angelus had claimed Drusilla for the same selfish reason, to show Spike that he could.



Spike cringed at the thought of the blond beauty beside him being wasted on other men, most of all, Angelus. Other men didn’t see what he saw in the Slayer. The excitement in her eyes when they fought, the way her body moved, the way she matched him as if they were dancing. There was a fire in her blood that intrigued him and he wanted to unleash someday.



Buffy stirred and opened her eyes. She blinked up at Spike, focusing on the handsome face. She cried out when she tried to shift position and found that her skin was so tender it was like though a dozen knives were stabbing her flesh. “Spike?” she asked in a pain-filled gasp.




“Yeah, pet, I’m here. How do you feel? Are you hungry? I can have Dalton get you something.” Spike was concerned. Angelus would be just enough of a bastard to starve her if he wanted, but if the blond vampire could help her, he would. At some point in his musings he had realized a couple of things: one, he had lost the vulnerable connection he tried to establish with his sire, leaving him only with a familial link, and two, Drusilla had said he had wanted something more, something that glistened and glowed and was effulgent. He hadn’t thought about it until he remembered Drusilla had referred to Buffy as ‘Sunshine’. Maybe . . .



”I am hungry. What—Angel! Angel whipped me?” Buffy asked, confused. Angel had whipped me . . . Who knew he was really this callous? Was his whole Vampire with a Soul just an act or was that real and Angelus is the act?



“Not Angel, pet, Angelus, and yes, your punishment was a lesson for me,” Spike said as he brushed her hair back from her face. You have to get that through your head, Buffy. Angel is no more. I knew the consequences that the ritual could have and I took that risk. Now you have to accept it as it is, pet.



“Angel . . . us grabbed me and chained me to a wall – or was it the ceiling? – and the next thing I felt was the sting of the whip, repeatedly lashing at my skin,” Buffy said rubbing sleep out of her eyes. God, every place on her skin hurt like her flesh had a living flame dancing across it when she moved. She couldn’t remember seeing Angel with an arsenal of weapons before so, where exactly had Angelus gotten a whip? Then Spike’s last comment slipped in under all the thoughts. “Why would Angelus punish me in your place?” Buffy asked. How had she deserved that?



“I don’t know. Angelus doesn’t need a reason to torture anyone, other than his will to do so at the time. I want you to know how sorry I am, Buffy. If it wasn’t for me, you would have never been there,” Spike was remorseful. If he hadn’t have been so adamant about his position with Drusilla, Buffy’s kidnapping and whipping never would have come to pass. It was one thing to want the Slayer dead and kill her by his own hand. But Angelus had turned everything upside down in whatever scheme he had going, and now he was trying to protect her from Angelus as much as could, because . . . why? He was starting to care for her as a person? As an equal? As an ally against a common enemy? As a friend? His brow furrowed as he tried to suss out his own reasons for helping the Slayer heal.




Buffy furrowed her brow. Was Spike apologizing to her for Angelus’ treatment? She reached up and smoothed what she mistook as worry lines from his face. “You have done nothing to be sorry for. Ang—Angelus is a bastard and . . . and . . . did this to me. As you said just now and before this, Angelus is sick and twisted and needs no rational reason for what he does. He would have struck out at me or even you just for the hell of it.”



“I know what he did, and he did it as a warning for me,” Spike said adamantly. His eyes became hard at the thought of Angelus’ sick mind. Even as he was so determined he was the reason for her punishment, he remembered what Angelus had said about Buffy making him feel human again. His lips thinned as that thought glanced through his mind. It would be just like Angelus to make punishment mean more than one thing.



“Spike?” Buffy said his name to get his attention. “Get me something to eat and stop beating yourself up over this.”



“Right then,” Spike sobered up and shifted around to pull himself into the wheelchair and wheeled himself out of the room in search of Dalton. He would base the shopping list for Dalton on the talks he had had with Buffy before concerning her favorite foods, and make her feel better. I’m trying to make the Slayer of my kind feel better, how bloody screwed up is that?




When the door clicked shut, Buffy stared at the ceiling lost in thought. It was so strange to be on the same side as a soulless vampire. Yet here she was, held captive by the once-souled vampire boyfriend and sharing her pain with her mortal enemy. Life was strange sometimes. She should have staked Spike when she had a chance, so why didn’t she want to? Had he been right about full-fledged vampires keeping a bit of themselves when they were turned? If so, was Angelus’ human as mean as his demon? Was the soul just an act or did the soul become the dividing line that Angel used to separate both the conscious remorse and the maniacal demon, like a split personality?



She wondered how Spike, who was soulless to start with, could feel so much emotion. How Spike could actually care when Angelus didn’t? The blond vampire had cared for Drusilla for a century. Not only had he taken care of the insane vampiress, but he cared about her. Even when Buffy first came here, and they called a silent truce, Spike has since kept to his word. Whereas Angel had promised never to hurt her, but Angelus took great relish in the deed of harming her. So what was it about Angel’s demon that refused to feel those things? She remembered Angel had told her of creating Drusilla, but she never heard the story of how Angelus was created. Was his human personality just as mean, or did Angelus hone the anger after he was made?



Buffy shook her head, trying to figure Angelus out was making her head ache. She shifted on the bed trying to mentally count all the tender and painful parts of her body, but gave up when she lost track. If by some miracle, the pain of her injuries eased enough to walk or even crawl she supposed she could throw a tantrum and try to leave if she thought it would do her any good. Spike had left the door unlocked when he went to send Dalton on his errand, but even with just herself and a stake, there were too many minions and Angelus between herself and freedom. No, if she wanted out of this situation alive, teaming up with Spike was her best chance.



Just then Spike rolled back in and closed the door behind him. “Dalton’s on his way to get you something to eat,” he said wheeling over to the edge of the bed.



Buffy smiled her thanks at him, but remained silent letting her body heal. Spike watched her, not really staring but taking in the sight of her jaw clenched in continued pain and her golden skin marred by deep black and purple bruises left by the whip that even his vampiric healing couldn’t help. He found himself respecting her character a lot more, not because she had survived Angelus’ game of torture, but that she lay there in utter agony with very little Slayer strength to counter the pain and yet he saw the strain she was under in bearing its weight silently. Spike wheeled the chair closer to the nightstand, wetting the washcloth and carefully, ever so feather-light and gentle, touched the bruises with the cool, damp material.



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




Dalton ran out of the nearest exit with Spike’s money in his pocket. Since Angelus and Drusilla were wrapped up in each other, the bookish vampire slipped out of the factory unnoticed. He scurried to the nearest convenience store as per Master Spike’s orders and strolled down the aisles for everything on his master’s list, rushing to the checkout lane. He wanted to be swift about his errand as not to displease Spike.



He picked up his sack of provisions and walked out the door just as Willow was going in. They bumped into each other and Dalton dropped his bag. He pulled it upright before it could tip over, but before he could pick it up again, Willow saw some of the contents.



There are all of Buffy’s favorite foods. Where was that man going with an assortment of Buffy’s favorite foods? Willow thought as she looked at Dalton quizzically. He didn’t seem all too human, vampire maybe? Maybe he had seen Buffy. The bookish vampire was about to run off when the redhead stopped him. She gathered her courage to confront him. “Where’s Buffy? You’ve seen her, right? Where is she?” The redhead had a grip on Dalton’s shirt collar. “We’ve been looking all over for her. Where’s the Slayer?” she asked as she started to feel a bit more confident.



Dalton gulped and gripped his grocery sack tighter as his body tensed. What do I tell her that won’t get me into trouble? “I can’t say, ma’am, they’ll kill me if I say.” Not an outright lie, Angelus may kill me if he finds out about this errand. “I have to get back before Master Angelus and Mistress Drusilla find me gone.”




Willow’s lips thinned as she got frustrated with the man in front of her. Angelus? Drusilla? Together? Angel lost his soul? Angelus knew where Buffy was? If Drusilla survived the organ and the church fire, did Spike? Willow was in shock and trying to discern Dalton’s words, and her grip loosened and the vampire scurried off into the night. Angelus was back and he was teamed up with the crazy vampiress? If Drusilla’s alive, what happened to Spike? She shook her thoughts away and ran to find Giles.



At the school library, Giles was waist-deep in research when Willow burst into the room. “Giles! Giles! Angelus is back!” she cried over and over.



Giles took his glasses off and set them on the desk and stood up rushing to meet Willow at the checkout desk. He put his hands on her shoulders to hold her still. “Willow, calm down! Breathe deep first and then tell me what’s happened.”



Willow stood still, took a deep breath and said, “Angelusisback!” She tried again only slower this time, “Angel lost his soul somehow and he’s now Angelus.”




“What makes you think Angelus is back?” Giles asked as he let go of Willow. He pinched the bridge of his nose as his mind tried wrap around this turn of events. If Angelus is back he probably had Buffy, or knew where she was. They had to locate Angelus.



“I ran into this vampire buying human food at the grocery store. When I stopped to question him, he said he couldn’t tell me anything and that Master Angelus was expecting him. He mentioned Mistress Drusilla as well,” Willow explained.



“Oh, dear lord,” Giles said softly. If Drusilla had survived and Angelus had teamed up with her, he didn’t want to think of the implications that may bring. “Dear Lord, help us all. What about Spike? Did he say anything of Spike?”



Willow shook her head. “He didn’t mention him or Buffy at all.”



Giles rushed to his office and grabbed his glasses intent on more research into the new situation. “We have to find out what is going on; what happened to bring out Angelus . . . before he does something. Go gather the others; we need to have a meeting.”



As Willow turned to leave, Giles stopped her for a moment. “Be careful. And, uh, if you run into Angel, don’t let him know of the meeting.”




Willow nodded and took off at a run.



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



Dalton made it back to the factory and rapped on Spike’s door lightly. After a harsh command to “come in”, Dalton opened the door and stepped inside, closing it again. He hurriedly sat the bag down and gave Spike a worried look.



“What is it?” Spike threw the question at the bookish vampire.



“Master, the Slayer’s friends . . . they are looking for her,” Dalton stammered as he ducked and looked at Buffy then back at Spike. He didn’t want Master Spike upset with him for any reason, but he had to alert the blond vampire of anything that may concern their sanctuary.



“As they would be, did you tell them anything?” Spike asked quirking an eyebrow. He knew Dalton would keep his mouth shut with any matter and the question tasted redundant in his mouth.




“No, Master. It was the redheaded girl that, well, w-w-we bumped into each other at the convenience store and she noticed the Slayer’s favorite things. All I said was that I couldn’t say,” Dalton said. Would Spike slug him now? He was just told to run to the store and come right back.



“You did as I asked of you, you can go now, Dalton,” Spike said in his best Master Vampire voice.



Dalton smiled gratefully and left the room. Buffy carefully turned over to face Spike, the pain of movement caused her to wince and she felt tears spring to her eyes. “What did you ask of him exactly?” she asked hoarsely. She couldn’t think through the pain of the bedding scratching her tender flesh.



“Only to get you food and necessities, love,” Spike assured her. His eyes softened at the sight of her pain. She tried to move if she could help it and that made him angry at his sire all over again.



“So you didn’t tell him to not tell my friends anything?” Buffy asked skeptically. She missed Willow and Xander and Giles and her mom. She couldn’t think that after all this time stuck in this room with Spike that the vampire would choose now to withhold anything from her.



“No, that would have been the fear of Angelus that did that,” Spike tilted his head and looked away in thought. He snapped out of his thoughts and excused himself from the room while she pulled the bag closer to search through it.




When he left, Buffy pulled everything out of the bag for a better inspection. While they had waited for Dalton’s return she had made an effort to reach out to Spike through his interests and ended up in another discussion of his aristocracy. With all the talks they had, she was uncovering a side of Spike that she never thought was there. She smiled at idea that Spike had listened to her, evidenced by the choice of items in front of her now. After being a captive this long with gruel for sustenance, she shrugged and packed the items away again, setting them under the bed to hide them from Angelus. She kept a few of the perishable foods out to eat while she waited for Spike’s return.



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



Spike wheeled the chair into the main hall of the factory where he had the unlucky chance of seeing his sire straddling his grandsire’s lap. Although they were fully clothed, he knew they were just hiding their joined bodies from prying eyes. Angelus’ face was buried in the curve of Drusilla’s neck.



“Ahem!” Spike cleared his throat louder than necessary to get his grandsire’s attention. It cut him to the bone to see Drusilla with Angelus. She had abandoned him since the day his grandsire had brought the Slayer to the factory. He had heard her cries of her sire’s name daily even though his room was too far away to hear the rustling of the sheets or the slapping of their bodies coming together. Even now, watching them here, it hurt him to see it.



Angelus growled at the intrusion and looked up to see Spike wheeling the chair down the length of the table. “What is it that you want, Spike ?” He sneered at the thought of making Spike watch as he fucked Drusilla. He knew it would drive Spike completely insane from either jealousy or lack of being able to participate, like in the old days, or both.




“I’ve come to inform you that the Slayer’s pals are out searching for her,” Spike said. You weren’t watching your back like you should have been, you old bastard. He felt his grandsire had gotten too self-assured since he returned to the fold and now, gleaned from Dalton’s message, outsiders were searching for the slayer harder than ever. A slayer with family and friends, that definitely wasn’t in the brochure.



“And just how do you know this, roller boy, you haven’t been out of the factory in a while,” Angel was getting on his last nerve with Spike. The whelp thought he could roll in here and put him, Angelus, in his place? Just what did his grandchilde think he was trying to do? There was no way he was going to blindly give Drusilla up to the boy who had fawned over her for a hundred years just like that. Angelus was smarter than that.




“Dalton told me when he came back from a blood run,” Spike said. “He saw them moving around town.” Okay, a lie, but Angelus didn’t need to know that.



“And why should that worry me?” Angelus asked getting more aggravated. Spike was wearing his patience thin. He slid his hands along Drusilla’s curves in full view of the blond vampire. Angelus knew he would get a rise out of the younger vampire and Spike didn’t disappoint as his eyes hardened and hands gripped the arms of the wheelchair in anger at the sight of Drusilla responding to the touch of her sire.



“Well if you still want to keep me out of your hair like I’m supposing you do, and go through with whatever you have planned, you better move to a safer location, grandsire .” Spike growled through gritted teeth. Angelus’ blatant display had him wanting to jump out of the chair, fly over the table and pound his fist into the older vampire’s face, but he kept his face impassive and void of expression outside that of pure disgust for his grandsire.



“What do you know of my plans, Spike?” Angelus asked, baffled that he didn’t get the reaction he desired. When Spike’s comment finally sunk in he dug his nails into Drusilla’s hips in anger toward his grandchilde, not letting up until she cried out in pain. What could Spike possibly know what I have planned for him or the Slayer? If he thinks he knows what I have planned, then I’ll just have to switch the strategy.




“Come on, Angelus, I know you. You always have something up your bloody sleeve,” Spike grumbled. He hadn’t known a day when Angelus hadn’t had a plan for every situation.



“He’s right daddy, it won’t do us any good to get caught by the teacher with our hands in the cookie jar, he might spill all the milk and make Miss Edith very upset,” Drusilla said in her little girl voice, while shaking her head.



Angelus ground his teeth as he looked up at the ceiling debating on what to do. Finally he came to a decision. He would move his operation to an old, worn down mansion on the outskirts of town. “Fine, we’ll move,” Angelus said as he slammed his hand down on the table.