Dear Boy

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Title: Dear Boy

Rating: R

Pairings :< Here we go, it’s long and broken into groups.>

Familial Pairings – Darla/Angelus, Darla/The Master, Angelus/The Master, Darla/Drusilla, Angelus/Drusilla, Angelus/William, Darla/William, Drusilla/William

Relationship/Other Pairings: Angelus/Darla, William/Drusilla, Other/William

Summary: Being full blood Childer of The Master, it’s no surprise that Angelus and Darla expect nothing but the best when it came to their own Childer. So why is it, after choosing the perfect female companion for Darla, Angelus had to go and Turn an abused, partially insane geek like William?

Warnings: Very, very, very (and can I stress the word VERY again?) AU! Expect plenty of violence, blood/gore (hello, dealing with vampires!), language, insanity (literal and figurative), OOC-ness, hetero and homo relationships, may be more later.

Thankies BIG TIME to my beta reader, MsWillowRose!
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~* Prologue – The Master 1*~


Dublin, Ireland
June 14, 1500


The burning sun had long since disappeared behind the horizon. The moon had taken its place - casting some light upon the slumbering village - but it was covered partially in thick dark clouds that bore promise of heavier rains.

Light rain already pattered down on the rooftops in a steady drum. Chilly wind howled and caused the few open windows to slam against the buildings until the owners slammed and bolted them shut.

Inside a small tavern, one of the few to stay open this late into the night, a fire was hastily lit to expel the chill. An iron grate was placed around it to keep the soon-to-be-drunken-sobs that would be arriving from falling in head first.

The doors had been open – literally of course - to visitors for over an hour now, but due to the horrid weather and the early hour, only one lone figure was in the tavern taking advantage of the fact that it was dry, and the warmth would attract not only the regulars, but new people for him to study.

He had no doubt that the many that frequented the place were probably just dragging themselves out of the closing bars. It would be a short while before they got there.

But the cloaked and hooded figure – a newcomer to the tavern - was tucked in the farthest corner of the building, away from the open and dancing flames. He was nursing a large mug of rum and watching the doorway with cruel yellow eyes that glowed under his hood.

It didn’t take much longer for the front doors to burst open, admitting a gust of wind and a group of six men dressed in drab brown coats, vests, trousers, and white leggings with black buckled shoes. The cloaked man took a sip of his rum and watched the group stomp their way across the tavern to sit at the bar.

He sat and watched the small group as they drank rum and ale throughout the night. More men came, and some left. Some got so drunk they were ushered out before they could pass out and fall off the bar stools, and others merely sipped at their drinks and listened to the conversations around them.

The cloaked man sighed in boredom and finished off his drink. He looked out the window to find that it had stopped raining and the sky was clearing. Wind was pushing the clouds away. Sunrise would be in four hours, which meant he had less than three to sit and watch. And wait.

There were roars from the group, a name was shouted, as the doors burst open once again. The cloaked man looked up in curiosity to see a young man with long brown hair and chocolaty brown eyes stagger in. His overcoat was hanging off of one shoulder and his shirt was rumpled. He looked to be already partially drunk.

The door was left open behind him as he somehow made it to the bar and sat down on an empty stool. One of the waitresses closed the door with an amused shake of her head. A thin, almost non-existent eyebrow rose as he watched the young man chug down a whole pint of liquor in one go.

He watched in sudden, intense interest as the newest arrival spent the next two hours chugging down pint after pint, much like a horse would chug water after a long run. Glancing outside, he noted that he only had a little over an hour until sunrise.

Then it happened. The sign he had been waiting for. One minute the young man was speaking loudly to the person next to him, the next he was sprawled on his back on the floor with the mug of beer lying next to him.

The Master smirked around inch-or-more-long fangs and watched as the young man bounced back to his feet and stumbled into the instigators fist. There were laughs. The young man shook it off and swung a loose fist at the blond. It connected. More laughs. The Master tilted his head and watched the brawl that was being ignored by everyone else.

It wasn’t the most coordinated fight he’d ever witnessed. Punches were loose and rarely connected with force, and feet stayed firmly on the floor except when one opponent was pushed over. There were hardly any wounds – only small split lips and bruises – and barely any blood. There was an abundance of alcohol being tipped over or poured on heads though.

The pair swung around and The Master took his chance. He locked eyes with the young man. Time froze for a full minute as The Master looked deep into his soul. “My you are a rebellious one.” The Master murmured as images and emotions flashed behind the young man’s eyes.

A large house (pride), richly dressed people (contempt), drunken nights out on the town (bliss), arguments between Liam and a man The Master assumed was the father (extreme hatred), fist fights (excitement), women (more bliss), and his name: Liam.

Time returned and the brawl continued as The Master smirked in accomplishment. More men joined in the drunken fray, and there was more laughter as weak punches connected and men toppled over. Liam looked up from standing over one of the not-so-lucky men and met The Master square in the eye. And he smirked.

“Yes. You will do nicely.” The Master took his leave of the tavern and disappeared into the shadows. “Soon.”

TBC