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Title: Queen’s Gambit (Parts 3 & 4)
Author: Josey
Summary: The first in an historical series. The year is 1880 and the family is sorting things out amongst themselves. Plus politics – and that’s never pretty.
Pairing: Fanged Four free for all. M/M, M/F, F/F.
Rating: NC-17 for language, sexual content, violence and torture.

An hour or so later in clean trousers and equipped with a decanter of brandy, two glasses and a box of good cigars, Angelus knocked at the small top floor room William had claimed for himself.

"Yeah?" A belligerent voice came from inside.

"Open the door, Will." The contraction seemed to fall naturally and maybe it was that friendly note that convinced the lad to comply. The door was unlatched and Angelus pushed itopen with his foot.

It was the first time he'd visited this room, keeping to his own suite or Darla's most days, exceptinghis occasional forays into the nursery for Drusilla and frankly he was shocked. Unlike the lower rooms, which were decorated in sumptuous fabrics and rich furnishings, this small chamber was simple to the point of austerity. The far corner held a small iron bedstead heaped with drab blankets. Next to it stood a dark chest of drawers, which, as it held a jug, bowl and razor, seemed to double as a washstand. Closer to the door was a white deal table, covered with papers and completed by an oil lamp and a shabby wooden chair. Built into the wall above and next to the table were several shelves all boasting a multitude of bound books and pamphlets, the only splash of colour in the room. The single concession to comfort was the wing backed leather chair that sat by the modest leaded fireplace, which was currently glowing with a newly lit fire. The place was cold, dingy and smelled of London fog, damp and sulphurous.

"What on earth possessed you to pick this?" Angelus asked, aghast. The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them and William, standing stoically on a rag rug in front of the fire, sounded unimpressed.

"Leave if you don't like it."

Angelus winced then backtracked. "That's not what I meant to say." He indicated the things he was carrying; "Actually I came to talk." He couldn't say apologise, it just wasn't done but he could come close.

Not giving an inch, William turned his back and replied, "What about?"

Rather than answering the question, Angelus searched for a clear flat surface. There wasn't one. He shrugged to himself, pushed some papers to one side and finally put down the decanter and glasses.

"Erm… About earlier." He could see the younger vampire's shoulders tense beneath his white linen shirt and he finished hurriedly, "I wasn't laughing at you. Well, not just you. I was laughing at both of us, or, more accurately, the situation. It just struck me as funny."

"Yeah, real funny. Personally I was on the verge of pissing myself."

So maybe the lad had a point. Angelus opened the cigar box and offered it over. William took one, slipped off the paper ring and rolled the cigar between his thumb and forefinger. "Nice," he commented.

Angelus did the same and added with a smirk, "Cuban. Rolled on the thighs of dusky virgins."

That earned him a tentative grin. "Expensive then."

"Perk of the trade."

As William continued to stare thoughtfully at the tube of tobacco in his hand, Angelus clipped his then lifted the mantle from the lamp and used the exposed flame to light a cedar spill.

"Want. Take. Have." The words were whispered into the quiet room and Angelus turned, curious as to what was meant. Seeing the older vampire's expression, William continued, "It's what Darla told me. That first time. So I did. This time. It was a mistake." His eyes raised and though the pain was gone confusion still reigned.

Angelus perched on the edge of the table bringing the cigar to his lips and turned it as he inhaled, the burning spill dying as its air was sucked away. Content it was well lit he said, "The first time she was giving a taste of heaven, lad. This time it was anger. At me."

"At you?" William spluttered, "Mind explaining why I'm the one who's suffering then."

"I will. But tell me first what happened."

*** The Previous Night.

William followed Darla into her bedchamber, frustrated at being taken away from Dru twice in the same evening. "What do you want, Darla? I promised Dru we'd go out."

"Strip," she ordered from in front of the fire, her eyes snapping coldly and brooking no argument.

He shrugged and did as he was bid, gladly removing the constrictive livery. Obviously she intended to make good on her promise to Angelus and though he would have preferred Dru, it was hardly a chore to take such a beautiful woman. When he was naked, she stepped forward, held out her arms and said, "Now undress me."

The rose coloured taffeta slid under his fingers as he unfastened her dress, and he cursed softly at the myriad tiny pearl buttons that served both form and function on a lady's garment. As it became loose, he brushed it gently from her shoulders, bending to drop a kiss on the bared skin next to the lace of her chemise. Darla neither moved nor acknowledged his attentions but he thought nothing of it. She was obviously angry, so he could hardly expect the warm generosity he had seen in her four months ago.

Working quickly William divested her of her weighty outer garments leaving her clad only in a white corset and stockings. Then he paused to appreciate the view. She really was a study in womanly charms, a living, breathing version of Miss Edith - metaphorically speaking, of course. And rising through the lavender of her perfume was her personal scent that bypassed his brain and communed directly with his blood.

"You know, Darla, a man could die happy in your arms."

"Thousands have." She preened, pulling the pins from her hair and letting it cascade free.

Smiling confidently he swept her into his arms and carried her to the bed, reclining her gently into its soft embrace.

She sighed up at him, her eyes wide with passion and murmured breathily. "Oh William. Such a man there never was. Your mere presence makes my heart to beat with a fury unsurpassed…"

**

"She said what?!"

William was brought up short from the pretty tale he was spinning by Angelus' astonishment. "Er," he hedged, rubbing his hands up and down his worn corduroy trousers.

Angelus narrowed his eyes as he formed a distinct suspicion. "Will? Have you been reading Penny Dreadfuls?"

"No!"

The denial came too quickly and it was accompanied by a flick of William's gaze to the shelves which Angelus was willing to wager carried a goodly number of cheap romance novels. Suppressing the urge to either chuckle or hit the boy, he asked, "What actually happened? And this time we can do without the embroidery."

"Um. Right then. It went something like this."

**

He paused to appreciate the view, only to find Darla shoving him backward towards the bed. Scrambling before her, he struggled to regain the initiative, wanting to show her how much he had learned since they were last together, but she was having none of it. Determined and in control Darla used her superior strength to force him onto his back and then straddled his face, grinding her quim against his mouth. Instinctively William brought his hands up to ease her off him, only to have them grabbed and secured to the bedstead by heavy manacles.

Given no other choice he brought her to orgasm with his mouth alone, gulping down her juices as they threatened to choke him and ignoring the flavour of blood now oozing from his nose and crushed lips. He sobbed with relief when she finally slid down his body and impaled herself on his aching member, only to groan when she clenched around him, sending his body into a twisting frenzy of movement as he climaxed deep inside her.

The next thing he felt was the impact of an open-handed slap across his face, which sent his head jerking back into the pillows. And then Darla's voice screeching at him as she dug her claws into his chest. "You vile filthy creature. Did I give you permission to do that? Did I tell you to defile my body? Am I some kind of whore to you?"

The rant continued and William lay very still, trying not to react to the pain she was causing with her words and blows, horribly aware that he had done something very wrong. Eventually she stopped and clambered from the bed. He relaxed; thinking the worst was over. As it turned out, he couldn't have been further from the truth. They had, in fact, simply reached the cold eye of the storm.

Moments later, Darla returned with a handful of ribbons from her dressing table and, much to William's confusion, proceeded to pin his hips to the bed and take his flaccid cock in her mouth bringing him quickly erect once again. He strained against her and the bonds trying to plunder more of her talented mouth as she worked him hard and relentlessly, extracting the sensations rather than coaxing them. When he was so close to coming that words had deserted him, she pulled away and wrapped the ribbons one after the other around his genitals, tightly enough to make him scream.

Sitting back on her heels to admire her handiwork, Darla spared a glance up at William's agonised face, smiling at the fear and pain displayed there.

With a predator's hiss, she said, "Now let us see which of us is the whore, shall we?"

**

William accepted the brandy he was offered and studied the glass as he swirled it, letting the liquor coat the sides.

Then he said slowly, "Christ, Angelus. I though she was gonna kill me. Hells, I didn't even know you could come without, you know… coming." When he looked up Angelus noticed his usually cerulean eyes were darkening rapidly. "It was a bloody revelation," he finished with awe.

Angelus wasn't sure whether to be jealous or amused. This was his woman the boy was discussing so freely but then again he had asked for the information. Maybe amusement was the way to go.

"Shall I tell her you're free tomorrow?" he asked with a smirk and a twinkle.

William snorted into his brandy and then choked, "Give a bloke a break. Tell her Friday at the earliest."

They both roared with laughter, rediscovering the easiness of their earlier companionship in the shared experience of such a remarkable woman. Wiping the tears from his eyes, Angelus moved from the table to the haven of the leather chair, picking up William's jacket and tossing it to the floor. As it moved something metallic clanked in the pocket and he frowned, picked it up and investigated, extracting a handful of long iron nails.

He looked askance at William, who explained with a half-shrug as he put his glass down in the space Angelus had vacated, "Railway spikes. I use `em when I hunt with Dru. I had a human do a runner on me one night when she went off on one of her trips. Took me ages to track the idiot down. So now I make sure they stay where I put `em."

There was no hint of embarrassment at having to resort to such human tools for a task that should take no more than a vampire's fangs and that, beyond anything he'd seen or heard, convinced Angelus that he was doing the right thing taking over the lad's training.

"She calls me that, you know. Her Spike." William said thoughtfully, than added with a leer, "Not sure if it's them or something else she's talking about."

"Sounds like something you'd call a fighting dog."

"There you go then. I'm Spike. Dru's own English bulldog." He held out his hand in mock introduction. "Pleased to make your acquaintance."

Angelus took the proffered hand but rather than a shake, he turned it over and traced the soft palm with his thumb, marvelling at the difference between this and his own callused skin. Young William was certainly a gentleman in his previous life. "You still have William's hands."

"Still have William's hands, William's face and William's skinny body." The young vampire glared down at his lean whip-fine form with distaste. "Doesn't mean I have to like or keep the other bits of him."

"I rather liked William." Angelus fondly recalled the refined voice and educated manners of the newly risen vampire until the hand he was caressing was torn from his grasp.

"William was a bloody ponce. A mother's boy. So tied to her apron strings he was afraid to go live his life." The bitterness was palpable as he spoke and Angelus wondered what lay behind such heartfelt feelings.

"He must have had some potential or else Dru would never have brought you over."

"Stupidity. Pig-headed arrogance. A tendency to open his mouth without thinking," It was stated self deprecatingly.

"Guts. Bravado. A forthright manner." Angelus countered determined to show the lad some of the qualities he could now see would stand him in good stead. "Remember it was William who was prepared to fight me that first night to defend Drusilla's honour."

The young vampire flung himself into the wooden chair, which creaked alarmingly and picked up his brandy again, sniffing it. "Maybe you're right. Hate the name though. Reminds me of her." His voice rose an octave to an unattractive female contralto. "William? I need my medicine. William? Where are you going? Who is this Cecily? A wife? You? Never." As he spoke his voice continued to rise in volume and his hand tightened round his drink. With his final word it exploded, spraying him with alcohol and fragments of glass. Unmoving, he stared down at his bleeding hand and said quietly, "Nothing but a limp sentimental fool.

Angelus regarded him in silence, seeing something of the young Liam before Darla and remembering enough not to delve deeper. Obviously William wanted to escape from his previous life and saw a new persona as the way to do it. Personally Angelus thought murdering his family was quicker and more effective.

"Change your name if you want to but don't ask me to call you Spike. I'm sure that was the name of Dan Maloney's old dog." He said conversationally, then added, "How about Will?"

"S'okay, I suppose. Better than William." Spike muttered morosely. He liked the name, even if it did sound like a dog. Besides he'd known some evil bastard dogs in his time and Dru would probably go for it and she was what mattered anyway.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Spike picking the glass from his hands and licking off the blood, Angelus watching him doing it and contemplating what else his tongue could do. It was only when he realised he was being watched in turn and that there was more than a hint of mirth in the blue eyes regarding him that he coughed and said, "Darla."

"What about her? Oh, you were gonna explain why she did what she did." Shrugging indifferently Spike continued, "Not sure as I care that much, so long as she don't do it again."

"Are you certain?"

"Yeah. Think I've got it straight now. Do as she says, don't argue and remember the bloody Vaseline." Spike snarked childishly.

Angelus took one look at his pout and chortled, "If you ask her nicely she might rub it in for you."

Spike glared athim, then grinned and purred, "Bogtrotter." A decent insult he reckoned, as an opener.

"William." What greater slur could there be?

"Poof."

Below the belt. Still two could play at that game. "Such an earnest boy."

The expression on Spike's face was an equal mixture of amusement and offence, and he sat up putting a hand to his chest to attest to his status as victim, declaring, "Oi, I was the friggee there."

"I heard no complaint," Angelus smirked then followed up with a passable impersonation of William, expecting it to be the last word on the matter. "Oh god, Angelus! I need you! Need you so much!"

Spike rose angrily to his feet, the chair falling with a thud behind him. "Shut it, yer blab. It wasn't me rubbing me Jack Robinson up another bloke's arse crack."

The humour suddenly evaporated and Angelus' eyes flashed black and dangerous. "Enough," he snapped. "You've much to learn, boy and I'm willing to teach you but primarily you will give me respect. Do you understand?"

They locked gazes across the room, two lions facing off over a kill, the pride ruler being challenged by his adolescent cub.

It was a critical moment and Angelus knew he couldn't afford to resort to physical domination. Things would simply spiral back to where they were yesterday and had been ever since William first rose - a never ending cycle of violence and disdain.

Spike glared at the demon lounging in his chair, his relaxed posture belying the tension crackling between them. He had never submitted to Angelus before, but somehow this felt different. This wasn't about pettiness or even the women, it was something primal that his own demon recognised and wanted to acknowledge. Every instinct inside him was demanding he drop his eyes and accept Angelus' mastery and yet… that little bit of William, the part that had sent him to court Cecily despite knowing she would reject him, screamed that it would never surrender.

Behind his eyes, the demon sidled up to the foolhardy Englishman and suggested a tentative compromise. Accept Angelus' offer? Yes. Trust him? Never. Spike would take what he could, learn what he could, then leave, staying his own man in the meantime.

He dropped his eyes.

Angelus silently released a breath he hadn't realised he was holding and knocked back the rest of his brandy. They had a truce and it would be good to seal that in blood but not tonight. Ignoring what had just passed between them, he stood up, grabbed the decanter and cigars, and made his way to the door. When he reached it he stopped and without looking back said simply, "Darla and Dru went hunting. You will come out with me. Get dressed and meet me downstairs within the hour."

***

Lifting her skirts, Harriet stepped carefully off the curb, avoiding filthy morass that littered the street. When he noticed her hesitancy, John took her elbow and smiled down at her, his heart giving a little flip when she returned it with an expression that spoke of her love. He hadn't wanted her to come tonight it was too dangerous. Some of their number had been set upon several nights ago, even the ladies and he couldn't bear to think she might be in danger.

His grip tightened as she stumbled and he lifted her bodily off the ground, carrying her the short distance to the far pavement. When he put her down her elfin face was flushed and small tendrils of dark hair had escaped from her bonnet.

"Oh goodness," she gasped, gazing up at him. "I suspect they named you wrongly, John. Christopher would have reflected your calling more exactly."

"Better to have God's mercy and your love," he said bluntly, watching as she blushed. So pretty his girl, the light of his life. Without her he would still have been loosing himself in the Devil every night, drinking away his worthless life.

As they stared into each other's eyes, something changed between them and each became horribly aware of the intimacy of their stance. Harriet looked away first and stepped back, her breath coming faster keeping pace with her racing heart.

"Three days," she whispered, "until we are joined as man and wife. Do not go tempting me, John."

"I'll not apologise girl, because I love thee." He dropped her arm, letting his fingers graze the coarse dark material of her dress. "And after we are wed, it will be a far different tale."

***

Spike risked a sidelong glance at his new mentor and hazarded, "I reckon I'm a bit past this, you know."

There was no answer so he settled back against the tiles and continued the game he'd been playing since they'd arrived - he checked his pocket watch, over an hour ago. Dinner spotting.

It would be easier if his body wasn't still one big ache from his adventures with Darla. He shifted uncomfortably, trying to ease the incipient stiffness and his stomach growled with unassuaged hunger. It was what - two days - now since he'd fed properly. He growled back and cinched his belt tighter, trying to convince it he'd already eaten. It didn't work.

The stench of too much humanity crammed into too small a space rose in choking waves around them, a miasma thick enough to rival the stink of any shit-pit. A storm would clear it right up but that was unlikely, Spike brooded, fighting the ingrained human habit to breathe. Blessed autumn, the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness or in London, the season of sulphuric peasoupers and festering mud. Keats was a pretentious idiot who should have known better.

Shouts of alarm came from below as a Hansom thundered past, sending people scattering into the gutters to escape lethal wheels and hooves. The crowds reforming in its wake and reclaiming the street that was rightfully theirs at this hour. Even the police thought twice about risking this area after dark.

A whore in a stained blue dress touting for trade caught Spike's eye. She'd be a doddle to take and there might be a bob or two in her pocket to make the meal sweeter. Or maybe the chap in the moleskin jacket giving her the eye. In fact, leave the two of them alone for a minute and they'd be two meals for the price of one and easy to boot. Too distracted to notice someone sneaking up on them, and too inebriated to scream loudly. He nudged Angelus and pointed them out. "Come on. A quick in and out and we'll be home before the girls."

Angelus shook his head and kept watching. A moment later Spike was bouncing in ill-concealed frustration, having reached the end of his short attention span. "What the bloody hell are we here for then? There's been at least half a dozen worth a go at and here we stand - squat - watching them like a couple of sodding gargoyles on the top of St Pancras station."

"There."

Finally! Spike followed Angelus' finger and spotted… "Salvation Army?!" Six darkly clad humans weaving their foolhardy way through the colourful herd that parted before them like the proverbial Red Sea. "Why we having after them?"

Without a word Angelus dropped effortlessly down into the adjacent alley and started to track the small group. Spike dogged his heels, not quite clinging to his coat tails, but relying on the older vampire's intimidating physical presence to make his passage through the crowd easy. A couple of minutes later their prey vanished through the doors of a public house and Spike went to follow hopeful for a pint to pass the time and fill his aching belly.

A hand on his arm stopped him and a jerk of the head indicated a doorway opposite. Reluctantly he joined Angelus leaning casually on the wall and they pretended to converse, keeping an eye out for the uniformed figures reappearing.

The strained silence was broken after a few minutes when Angelus said, "Those railway spikes you use to hunt. It's lazy and dangerous."

Spike shrugged, unfazed by the implied criticism. "It works."

Irritated by his lasse faire attitude, Angelus replied coldly, "Right up to the day it doesn't, or until someone notices a common thread between your victims."

The Salvationists re-emerging into the street forestalled any further discussion and the vampires took up the chase once again. Twice more the humans detoured into unsavoury looking drinking dens until eventually Spike felt required to ask, "How long exactly are we going to follow them?"

Rather than answer, Angelus took a hard right, ran swiftly along the road and swarmed up a thirty-foot wall to the steep gabled roof above.

Spike gaped in disbelief. In theory he knew he could do the same but a waterspout would make the climb ten times easier. Taking a deep breath he changed into his demon form and started to follow, using his claws to gain additional purchase on the slimy brick. It was slow going and several times he slipped back, only saving himself by digging his fingers into the rotting mortar. He was about ready to give up when he felt Angelus grab the collar of his coat and haul him up the last few feet to stand, swaying slightly, at the older vampire's side.

"That was truly pathetic," Angelus commented disapprovingly, brushing the worst of the soot from the front of Spike's rag tag clothing. "You should have been up there in a fraction of the time."

Spike sighed, knowing he was right and explained, "I don't do it often. Dru can't do a climb like that in her skirts, so I find easier routes for her."

Angelus regarded his charge thoughtfully. It was as he suspected. Leaving Will to be raised by a woman was a mistake. He'd had a similar problem himself until Darla donned breeches and chased him through York with the promise of the beating of his un-life if she caught him. It was amazing how quickly he'd learned to climb with that promise nipping at his heels.

"Come on then or we'll never catch them before they reach the bridge." He took off across the roof, staying below the ridge to reduce his silhouette against the night sky. The boy kept up surprisingly well he noted with approval, demonstrating an excellent sense of balance and, as they reached the other side of the hospital was close enough to ask, "How do you know they're heading for the bridge?"

Deciding that now was a good time to disclose his strategy, Angelus dropped to his haunches and pointed towards London Bridge. "Their headquarters are in the East End so they have cross to get home. What time is it?"

Spike checked his watch, ignoring the frown of disapproval that was thrown his way and answered, "Well past three."

"Remember there's no one at the fixed points after one so the constable at the Dockhead's already gone. We'll take them by the gardens of the old church. It'll be empty and the locals are used to noise from the railway. I'll wait by the north wall, you grab the woman when they pass and bring her back to me. The others will follow you and we can dispose of them together."

For once Spike asked no questions and silence poured in to fill the vacuum. It was a remarkable turn of events and had Angelus wanting to make enquiries of his own. He wasn't quick enough.

"Who's the bloody Londoner around here, anyway?" Spike's voice grumbled, unsuccessfully trying to hide his surprise at the information his mentor had at his command and Angelus could only smirk at the younger vampire's astonishment. Sooner or later he would learn that possessing an impressive amount of knowledge made the crucial difference between success and failure, more so than the ability to fight.

They left the safety of the hospital roof and headed towards the bridge through the grounds of St. Thomas' and across Duke Street. Then, dodging the heavy delivery wagons and carts, they wove their way under the railway arches until they reached the shadows of Saint Saviours.

**

Maintaining a discrete distance from the looming stone edifice on the off chance the church could do him as much damage as the crosses it housed, Spike sunk down behind the remains of the south wall of the gardens to wait for dinner to arrive. Five minutes later the small group came into view, just as Angelus had predicted, spread out slightly and paired off now they had left the meaner streets behind.

The target, a petite woman, walked at the head of the column, flanked on the outside by her hulking male companion. They were talking quietly and sharing intimate lover's looks, unlike the rest of the Salvationists who were marching along behind bellowing out some god-awful hymn.

Yeah, taking her would certainly attract the attention of the others.

When they drew level, Spike hurdledthe wall, seized the girl, threw her over his shoulder and scarpered. The rest of the humans set off in hot pursuit, their cries drowned out by the ever-present racket from the bridges. Pulling ahead with every stride he raced towards Angelus and arrived only to find the older vampire gone.

Gobsmacked, he stood with his arms full of squirming, screaming woman desperately searching the darkness for some sign of his back up.

Nothing. He checked again. Maybe he'd got the wrong place?

No, there was the divot he'd dug in the ground with the toe of his boot while Angelus went over the finer points of the plan for what felt like the hundredth time.

He was alone, with the evidence of his crime in his arms and five other humans on his heels. Tossing the woman to the ground, he plunged his hand into his pocket to retrieve his spikes only to come up empty.

"Bugger!"

**

From the roof of the Lady Chapel, Angelus watched the events unfold below, his fingers playing distractedly with the nails he had pilfered from the boy's pocket earlier. It was a mean trick to play on his charge, but Will's attitude toward the tools demonstrated that a short sharp lesson was needed.

When he threw the woman to the ground Angelus wondered briefly if the youngster would take the easy way out and run. He didn't, although the loud curse ringing through the night air suggested he was less than pleased with the sudden turn of events. Instead, planting himself firmly between the girl and the oncoming humans, Will slid into his demon face, raised his fists and prepared to meet them head on.

"Right, you bastards, come and get it!"

**

John hesitated when he saw the true nature of the creature that had snatched Harriet. It was smaller than he was by some margin, but its golden eyes glowed from under inhuman lowered brow ridges and its mouth gaped with an unholy set of fangs.

"The Devil himself walks among us!" Edward cried from behind him, ever the performer.

"Nay lad," John answered, not taking his eyes off the beast before him. "Not the Devil but surely one of his get. `Tis a vampire, not uncommon but I'd hoped not to see its like again." Just beyond the vampire his beautiful Harriet lay on the ground, her bonnet askew and her face covered in blood.

"I'll call for a constable."

John shook his head. "Nearest would be Blackman Street. She'll be dead afore you get there."

There was nothing else for it. From a concealed pocket inside his jacket John pulled a well-whittled stake and tested its balance in his hand. It had been a while but he hadn't forgotten how.

"That will kill it?"

"Aye, it will. And has a few, including them as took my mother and drove me to the demon drink."

Not waiting a moment longer he rushed the vampire, efficiently ducking its first swing and launching his full weight at its legs. If he could wrestle it to the ground then maybe he'd be able to get in a lucky strike. The creature went down hard under him and yanked him closer trying to savage his neck, its claws digging into his back easily penetrating the thick wool. In retaliation he head butted it in the nose, catching the spray of foul cool blood across his eyes. Then he was flying backward to hit the church wall, his ribs cracking and the air driving from his lungs in a shuddering choke.

Shaking his head to clear his eyes, John staggered to his feet a moment later, ready to go back into the fray. A shriek pierced the air and his focus returned just in time to watch as Samuel's throat was torn out and Charlie toppled to the ground, his head twisted at an impossible angle. With a roar he threw himself at the vampire again, this time taking it in the back and sending it crashing to the ground. From somewhere a voice was screaming profanities and it took John a second to realise they were coming from his own mouth.

Both fists flying, he hammered into the creature's head, some part of him registering that Tom and Edward had taken to their heels and that they might escape if he could disable it somehow. His stake was gone, dropped when he had been tossed into the air like a small child and he carried nothing else that would kill this creature.

A ferocious bellow erupted from nearby drawing his attention and in that moment of distraction, the vampire rose to its knees, lifting his weight as if it were nothing. Frantically he used his fisted hands together on the back of its neck, hoping to stun it or drive it back to the ground. Amazingly it worked. The vampire's arms wobbled and it pitched face first into the mud. John sat panting and disbelieving for a moment before rising shakily to his feet. He'd won! He'd taken on a vampire with his bare hands and won.

Hastily he searched the ground for his stake, spotting it sticking upright from a nearby flowerbed. Grabbing it quickly he returned to the vampire's side, knelt and raised the stake above his head ready to drive it deep into the creature's unprotected back.

"If yer do that, me lad, you'll wish you'd nare been born."

John whipped round at the sound of a man's voice from behind him and nearly dropped the stake in shock. A huge fellow with long dark hair falling loose around his shoulders had Harriet around the neck, dangling her inches off the ground. Another vampire, it had to be and as he watched, John's suspicions were confirmed when its face shimmered and took on the features of a demon.

"And I'd have to break this pretty lassie's neck. Yer wouldn't be wanting that now, would ye."

The strong Irish brogue most often heard amongst costermongers and thieves added to the beast's intimidating presence and John clambered to his feet, the stake falling from his hand. A loud groan from the ground heralded the first vampire's return to consciousness and as he glanced down, John saw that its face had returned to a more human form. To all intents and purposes it was now a young man lying in the mud, his finely boned face bruised from the punches John had landed.

Harriet was dropped unceremoniously to the ground and John rushed to her side, he and the second vampire effectively trading places. As he shook her shoulder gently and brushed her cheek to remove some of the blood he could hear a more refined voice behind him saying, "Will? Get yourself up, boy."

**

The words penetrated the fuzziness in his head and Spike opened his eyes to find Angelus staring down at him. As the memory of how he'd got there slowly returned, his confusion changed to anger and he snarled, "Christ Angelus. Where the fuck did you go?"

Angelus grinned, if Will sounded that pissed off there was nothing much wrong with him. He tossed the railway spikes onto Will's chest and said, "You needed to learn a lesson and I said I'd teach you."

Propping himself up on his elbows, Spike glared down at his namesakes. Angelus had a point, he supposed. He had come to rely on them more than was really healthy as this little debacle proved. Left with just his fists and fangs he hadn't fared well even against humans. He needed to learn to fight and from the looks of things Angelus was willing to teach him. Hopefully the lesson wouldn't have a dusty ending.

"Where do you think you're creeping off to?" A subsonic growl accompanied the question and the two humans, the man supporting the girl around her waist, paused mid-flight.

"B-but you said…" Angelus smiled his most predatory smile and as reality set in, the colour drained from both their faces.

"I may have mentioned not breaking her neck but that was all." He sauntered over to them and Spike watched on, appreciating the ease and grace with which the older vampire dominated his surroundings. It was an absolute pleasure to watchhim at work when you weren't on the receiving end.

The man pushed his girl behind him and drew himself up to defend her. Angelus halted a few feet away and called, "Will, come here. I want to demonstrate something."

Spike joined him, standing well back from what could be an interesting confrontation and Angelus turned, gesturing towards the couple. "You used the spikes to stop humans running off, this is more effective."

Moving faster than the human eye could follow, Angelus lashed out with first fist, then foot and the man tumbled to the ground writhing in agony and clutching his left knee. Strangely, nothing but an odd gurgle escaped his lips. Behind him the woman screamed and fainted.

Spike ventured closer studying the man curiously before looking back at his teacher. "What did you do to him?"

Angelus dropped to a crouch next to the human and grabbed his jacket to hold him still. With his other hand he indicated the man's leg, saying, "Smashed his knee. Now he can't walk or crawl away. Do it from the side, mind, then it goes easily. See." He prodded at the human's calf and the knee joint bent entirely the wrong way. With a silent groan the man's eyes rolled up in his head and he passed out.

"What about the... you know," Spike waved a hand past his neck, "the throat thing."

"The secret is to punch hard enough to crush the Adam's apple without destroying the windpipe. It's easier to do on a man than a woman but with practice you'll be able to do either." Angelus stood up; brushing non-existent specks of mud from his trousers then hauled the human up by his coat and prepared to eat. "In the meantime the worst that will happen is that they die and you get a cold meal."

"If you're gonna eat him, can I have the girl?"

"No. She's mine too." Angelus answered bloody mouthed.

Spike's jaw dropped. "What?! Come on, you bastard. That's not fair."

"I tracked them, I disabled them, so I get to eat them." Came the smug reply. Finished with the man, Angelus turned his attentions to the young woman, giving her a quick slap on the face to bring her round. When her eyes opened, he leered and she fainted again.

"Damn," he muttered, then addressed Spike again. "If you're hungry, help yourself to the dead ones." He gave up trying to wake the girl and tucked in anyway.

Spike turned and stalked away, clenching his teeth and trying not to lose his temper and hit the arrogant fuck. He was damned if he was going to settle for lukewarm leftovers and the taste he'd got ripping the one throat out had just piqued his already rampant hunger. With a bit of luck he could swing by Kent Street and pick up that whore. Wouldn't be as tasty as the Army lass but beggars and all that. Then back to Dru and a soft bed, a bit of decent company…

His mind drifted as he walked. Visions of how he and his princess would spend the day running through his head.

As he reached the edge of the graveyard he heard Angelus call out after him, "And Will? It'll be dawn in an hour so don't forget to dump all the bodies in the river before you go home."

Chapter Four

"You should think of getting' one yerself, Bill, the hounds love yer."

Spike rubbed the soft velvety ears of the greyhound between his fingers and took a swig from his pint, dragging the back of his hand across his mouth in time honoured fashion. "Nah, mate. Too much to do. Ain't got time fer one o' these fellas." The dog shifted uneasily next to his leg and Spike growled, too softly for any of the humans to hear. The dog heard and froze at the sound, too terrified to move even though every instinct was screaming at it to run away - fast.

Fred watched, appreciating the way his sometime friend had with the hounds, particularly this one. "Well, Bully there always courses better when yer `ere, so I reckon we should just be grateful."

Nodding non-committedly at the burly man's comment, Spike quelled the incipient smirk that threatened to spread over his face. Yeah, the hound did chase well when Spike came to a meet because Bully, despite his small canine brain, recognised demons and knew exactly what would happen if he didn't perform when Spike had money riding on him.

"So, yer standing with us on the morrow?"

Spike dug in his pocket for beer money, found some and drained his pint. "Nah. Work me magic from the tree line. Don't want the Lady changing the rules on me now."

"The Lady or the Devil. Someone smiles on yer Bill, that's a fact." Fred leaned down to scratch the dog's ears and added with a big grin, "An' I ain't liking to argue with neither."

Shrugging, but with a broad grin of his own Spike gestured to the barman for a refill. "Ya know what they say Fred, `needs must when the devil drives'. Pint?"

They exchanged a laugh and Spike reached out for his pint then stopped, the fine hairs on his neck prickling with the awareness that something or someone was watching him.

**

Firmly ensconced in the lounge, Angelus nursed his drink and peered through the crowd at the familiar figure leant against the public bar.

So this was where Will went. He'd had his suspicions that when the fledgling sneaked out of the house and vanished he was up to no good. But this went far beyond no good. This entered the realms of monumental stupidity. William was on his own here with no vampiric backup of any description. He was just over six months old and this city belonged to the Slayer and the Watcher's Council. Had the boy learned nothing last night? Humans, even ones without specific skills or magical influence, could be dangerous and here he stood, chatting like one of the lads.

As Angelus watched, Will drained his pint and returned it to the bar, laughing with the large red faced human next to him, and gestured to the landlord. The two glasses were refilled, money exchanged and then Will stopped, a slight frown appearing between his eyes and he looked directly into the lounge, obviously searching for something.

Angelus ducked down not wanting to be seen. He'd followed with the express intent of observing Will while he hunted and being discovered was not part of the plan.

"My goodness and do they think that wise?"

One voice rose from a gaggle of intellectual looking types all wearing breeches and the large pocketed jackets beloved by anglers.

"It will certainly add a certain piquancy to remaining in London."

They clustered round a nearby table and started to assemble chairs, ignoring the curious looks from around the room as they chattered amongst themselves. When the waiter approached they ordered dinner but what really caught Angelus' ear was the account they charged it to. The Watcher's Council. Suddenly all his attention was on that table and there was none to spare.

**

Nothing there. Nothing obvious anyway. But the feeling wouldn't go away. Spike rubbed the back of his neck, hoping the physicality of the act would counteract it.

"You alright, Bill?"

"Yeah, goose just walked over me grave." Spike tried to join in the laughter but the easy mood of just being and drinking with friends was gone, replaced with the sort of pensiveness he hadn't felt for months. He didn't even notice when Fred slurred something about going to see a man about a dog and vanished outside.

The faces from last night were coming back to him - not in a bad way. He was a vampire after all. But something inside had rebelled at the cruelty of it, even as the rest of him had got off on Angelus' employment of sheer power. It reminded him of something. Something he didn't want to remember. Something he had come here the first time to forget.

**

February 1880, A week after William's turning.

Her dust was all over him, burning his skin as her words scorched his brain.

"An eternity listening to that twaddle…"

"Dashed your brains out…"

"Never love her…"

"Finish what you started…"

"Limp, sentimental fool…"

He ran. Leaving behind the only home he'd known but unable to outrun the words. Knowing on some level that she was right. He was a fool. And doubly so to think that anybody gave a damn about William.

The pavement vanished under his feet, replaced by grass and still he kept running. Trying to escape the reality that had become his life. Dru's words now, pacing through his head along with his feet.

"You want to bring your mum wif us?"

"Can't `ave us both, sweet Willie…"

"Her or me…"

"Daddy will see to `er…"

"Just me. Only me. You promised…"

Mud splattered up over his dress shoes and a root came from nowhere. He caught his foot and fell, landing, sliding face first on the wet earth, and coming to rest mere inches from the edge of a large lake. Struggling to his knees William wiped his hands through the filth smeared over his jacket, vest and trousers. God! His clothes were totally ruined. Mother would be…Mother would… Mother…

Tears pricked behind his eyes and he fought with them, gasping and shaking. Desperately seeking something - anything - to counteract the confusion.

"You all right, mister?"

Feed!

The young angler never knew what hit him. And he was dead before he touched the floor, completely ex-sanguinated and not a drop spilled.

William blinked and stared down at the body. What on earth just happened? He glanced around, hopeful that no one had seen him. He was in luck. The lakeside was deserted at this time of night. The only signs of human habitation were lights from an inn several hundred yards away.

Working on instructions he vaguely remembered Drusilla mentioning, he stripped the body and used a stone to smash in its skull - with any luck it would look as though the fellow had fallen and hit his head. Then, realising that the chap was about his size, he swapped clothes and donned the tweed suit and Wellington style boots himself. They were nowhere near the quality of his old ones but somehow they made him feel better, less like William, less like a limp sentimental fool.

He managed to keep the worst of the mud off him as he rolled the corpse into the lake and none too soon either as a man's raised voice penetrated the night.

"Bully?! Come `ere boy! Don't scarper you bloody cur."

William stumbled back when a large brown and white greyhound trotted out of the undergrowth, halting about ten feet away from him. Stiff-legged, it started to approach, lip curling and hackles raising a ridge of hair along its back. Then their eyes locked, brown to sudden amber and, deep in his chest the vampire growled.

As if a switch had been thrown the hound dropped to its belly, tail curled beneath it and throat bared.

"Bully!" Wheezing slightly, a large man with greying hair and a florid complexion staggered through the same group of trees and William bent over the dog, pretending to pet it as he forced his features to turn human.

"There y'are yer bloody bastard. Thought I'd lost yer." The man squatted down, slipping a leather lead round the dog's neck and grinned at William, holding out a hand. "Thanks mate. Dunno what yer did but you've saved me a bob or two. This un's for the meet tomorra."

It was one of those moments. Where your entire life - or unlife as the case may be - hangs in the balance.

Here he was. Standing in the middle of nowhere with a man he had never met before. The obvious thing to do was drain him but William wasn't hungry, or angry, or anything in particular that might incline him to kill. And this man, this stranger, was holding out his hand and offering friendship - of a sort - something William had never had. At least since his first week at school when he'd been tossed and ended up in tears and with wet trousers. He'd never lived that down. William the Bloody wasn't the worst he'd been called.

And so the decision was made.

Consciously mimicking the man's accent - it went better with his new clothes thanhis real one - William grabbed the human's hand and said, "No bother, mate. Seems like a nice dog."

"Yeah. He's that all right." The man stood and glanced between William and the distant inn. "Fancy a pint? Least I can do. Meet the lads?"

Alcohol and the promise of jovial company were not to be turned down lightly, so William followed feeling welcome for the first time in his life.

**

A shout from the other bar had everyone on their feet, including Angelus, and he managed one glimpse of Will, his hands covered in blood before the fledgling leapt the bar and fled.

"The bastard. He killed me bloody dog!"

Someone hauled the carcass up into the air, displaying the evidence for all to see. It hung limply, body untouched but its head… Its head looked as though it had been crushed like an egg, the skull shattered, and unbidden, the memory of the broken brandy glass sprang to Angelus' mind. He barged through to the door and into the open air.

William wasn't hard to track, his scent was rich with fresh dog blood and Angelus pursued it off the main road and down towards the reservoir, switching to demon face to avoid the tree roots and brambles that strewed the path. A couple of hundred yards later a figure became visible in the moonlight, hunched over the water's edge and scrubbing at its hands. Angelus slowed to a saunter, shoved his hands in his pockets and wandered up.

"Well, that was exciting. Not sure I see the point though." Will's hands stilled when Angelus spoke but he made no comment, so the older vampire continued his voice tormenting and on the edge of a sneer. "Of course! It was all part of a complex plot to get them to chase you?"

"Fuck off, Angelus."

He chose to ignore the growl - it would be too easy to toss the boy into the lake - and instead opted for a heavy handed cuff round the ear of the type his father had administered on a daily basis. Sometimes the traditional methods were best and he felt no inclination to take off his belt.

"Language."

There was a heavy sigh and Will's shoulders sagged. A few seconds later he drew an arm across his eyes. Maybe wiping away tears? Angelus tasted the air for the telltale salt scent but could only smell blood.

"Yeah. All right. Bloody idiot, that's me. Told yer last night didn't I."

Sensing that there was much more going on here than he'd initially thought, and having his mind full of other more important matters, Angelus decided to get this finished as soon as possible. He hunkered down next to Will and gazed out over the lake, watching the bats skimming across the surface. "I never suspected it went as far as cynophobia."

That earned him a laugh and, "Nice dog, actually. Had a couple of bob on `im for tomorrow." A stone plopped into the water, silver ripples spreading and causing small waves to lap the edge.

"Tomorrow?"

"Yeah. At the meet. Hare coursing."

"Fed yet?"

"No. Was waiting till later."

Angelus stood and offered his hand, "Come on. Let's find you a poodle."

***

The sitting room was reminiscent of a dressmaker's after a long day's fitting. Every surface draped in garments; colours, textiles, laces and trims all heaped together in a jumbled mess. Golds and blues, gowns and underskirts. She couldn't find a single thing and a harried glance at the clock confirmed she had under two hours to be ready.

Darla indulged herself and stamped her foot - hard.

"Something wrong?"

Damnation, caught in the act.

She spun round, hands on her semi-clad hips and set her face into its most petulant pout. "This simply won't do, Angelus. I can't be expected to function in London Society without a maid. My wardrobe is a disaster, half my clothes are ruined and the jewellery - I don't want to think about my jewellery. I asked Dru to help and look at the room now. And the last time I told William to hang my dresses he put the plum gown next to my chinchilla trimmed cloak. Do you know how impossible it is to remove silver fur from velvet? Not to mention my corsets. Nothing has been cleaned or aired properly in months and they aren't the same new, the whalebone takes an age to shape correctly."

Angelus tried to keep his attention on what she was actually saying as he watched her pace up and down the room but her wildly waving hands were making her unbound breasts bounce.He caught the end of her tirade and the corner of his mouth twitched as a grin threatened to escape.

Hawk-eyed, Darla spotted it and her brows arrowed. "Are you mocking me?" she asked, dangerously.

He pushed himself up from the doorjamb and strolled towards her, exuding casual elegance. "I wouldn't dare, my dove."

"Then what, may I enquire, is so amusing?"

"The way our minds work in as sweet a concert as our bodies." Hesmirked, pushing a pile of clothes to one side and sat, having finally located the sofa beneath the silks and brocades.

Torn between joining him and continuing her litany of complaints, Darla glared at him silently, tapping her foot.

"It means..." Hestarted and then picked up a tiny chemise, fingering the delicate cambric and bringing it to his nose, sniffing it decorously.

When he didn't elaborate she exploded, "It means?! What does it mean, Angelus?"

He glanced up and continued in the same relaxed tone, "That I've been giving some thought to our position. And you are right. We need some minions."

The glass bottle hit Angelus squarely and without warning in the side of the head, dousing him liberally with lemon-verbena scent. He leapt to his feet with an undignified yelp, dashing at his silk vest, which now boasted a huge alcohol stain on the front. Staring down in disgust his carefully constructed nonchalant demeanour vanished and he snapped, "What the hell was that for?"

Darla advanced on him furiously, her eyes steel grey with anger. "I said, I needed a lady's maid, not some idiotic just turned girl who can't tell the difference between passementerie and piping."

"Fine. We'll hire you a maid as well." Angelus said, throwing his hands in the air, only to find them occupied by a deliriously happy vampire. Her lips vibrated against his neck as she purred, "Darling boy," in that deadly voice that had a similar effect on him as hot lead did on bones.

His displeasure crumbled and he enfolded her in his arms, drawing her close to him and lowering his lips to her neck to return the favour. She scaled his body, wrapping her stocking clad legs around his hips and raised her head, bringing their mouths together for a deeply entangling, passionate kiss.

While Angelus was engrossed in more oral matters, Darla slipped her hand between them and unbuttoned the front of his trousers freeing his cock, hard and ready for her as always. "Well trained," she murmured, and then giggled as he gasped under her caress and muttered back, "Of course."

Using his shoulders for leverage, she slid herself slowly onto his length taking the time to enjoy every millimetre of penetration and basking in the implicit flattery of Angelus' shaking hands under her buttocks. Languidly she rode him, her head falling back, letting her unbound hair spill down in a glowing golden stream while her lover's mouth sought out first one nipple then the other, teasing them to diamond points through the muslin of her chemise.

Angelus succumbed first, his legs folding as passion stole away their strength and he sank to his knees, pressing her back into a soft bed of pale blue satin. His hips pumping franticly, rotating and grinding against her with every thrust, desperate to bring her to completion first. It was easy to let go and give him what he wanted, her climax budding from her toes and coursing through her straining muscles to burst in a wave of heat that had her gasping and shuddering.

They purred together in the aftermath, seeking each other's mouths and renewing the closeness between them that had seemed strained in recent days. Darla carded her fingers through Angelus' hair, separating the rich dark strands of a style as old as her boy. Its length set him apart from most men in this age but she wouldn't let him cut it short, she would miss the way it caressed her skin when he worshipped her body.

"Why minions?" she enquired after an appropriate metaphorical breathing space.

He propped his chin on her abdomen and stared up through eyes like molasses. "I heard word last night that the new Slayer has been sent to Greece. With her gone from London we will need minions to hold this territory."

Darla nodded her approval. Living in the same city as the Slayer was both a blessing and a curse. The threat of being discovered meant their hunting had to be sparse and considered, but her presence kept feuds and territorial disputes down to a minimum. Her leaving would result in a scramble for power amongst the masters as one tried to take over the city. Their family must either fight or flee.

It meant they needed to reinforce their connections in high places, which was what she was supposed to be doing this evening.

With a panicked squeak, she pushed Angelus off her, rolled to her feet and started poking through the gowns on the sofa.

"What are looking for, my lamb?"

She spared him a quick glance, which lingered when she noticed he was stroking himself to hardness again. "Something to wear. I must be at Norfolk Street by nine of the clock."

He frowned up at her, perturbed as usual by her continued visits to the house. No matter. Darla had decided long ago that she wasn't about to ruin the surprise simply to mollify her childe's fit of pique about being kept uninformed.

"Don't just lie there, help me. Or, betteryet, go and find William. He will need to dress my hair before I leave."

"I thought Dru did that?" He questioned, rising and readjusting his clothing.

"Um?" She hummed, distractedly,thenadded, "She did but William has much cleverer hands and used to dress his mother's when he was human." She shot him an interrogative look. "Hadn't you noticed?"

Angelus didn't answer not certain what she was asking and instead continued to fiddle with his clothes, taking off his vest and running his fingers over the stain. He sighed, it would never come out. Then something occurred to him and he said, "He wants to be called Spike now, rather than William."

An odd noise came from Darla's direction and he glanced up just in time to see her topple sideways onto the sofa, her face buried in a cushion.

"Darla? Are you all right?" Angelus eyed her suspiciously as she continued to gasp and… snigger! Oh, the noise she was making was hysterical laughter.

"There you go, I told him it was stupid. It sounds like a dog. Now Will, that's a good name. He could combine it with something, like James did. Although I still think James, Herald of the Apocalypse was pretentious. Beth did the right thing talking him out of it."

"No. No, it's not that," Darla managed between snorts. "I was just thinking how wonderfully appropriate it was. When he was… he was…" It was no good. The image in her head of William on her bed, his cock standing to attention all wrapped in silken ribbons like the finest spike of corn. She howled again and then stuttered, "It's just so-so particular."

Angelus threw her a filthy look and yanked his vest back on. Obviously there was some joke here and he wasn't going to lower himself to enquire exactly what. In all honesty he wasn't sure he wanted to know. He had a horrible suspicion the answer would either make him feel less of a man or cause those odd feelings of shared masculinity to re-emerge.

When he reached the door, he looked back to see Darla wipe the tears from her eyes and resume searching through her clothing. Giving himself a final shake he said, "I'll send Will to you directly," and ignored the little chortle that reached his ears as he left.

***

There was no sign of Will in his room, so Angelus tried the nursery. From the other side of the locked door came breathy moans and groans. The children were obviously having a quickie before hunting and it would be cruel to interrupt.

With an evil smirk Angelus pounded heavily on the door and yelled, "Fire! Fire in the house!"

Sounds of rapid scrambling penetrated the door followed by a moment's silence then, "You fucking bastard, Angelus! There's no sodding fire," as Will tasted the air and realised the other vampire was pulling his leg - burning buildings tended not to smell strongly of lemon verbena.

The door was yanked open by the shirtless fledgling, who slouched against the jamb and glared in undisguised animosity at the vampire leaning against the wall laughing his arse off at his own joke. "What do you want, you tosser?"

Composing himself with some difficulty, Angelus answered, "Darla needs you to play hairdresser."

"Bollocks, I forgot about tonight." He turned back into the room to grab more clothes and called over his shoulder, "Did she say if she needed me to go with?"

Angelus didn't answer. The view through the open door had him totally mesmerised.

Lying on the sofa, one booted foot on the floor and the other thrown over the low back, was Dru, wearing a girl's dress, and clutching a porcelain doll to her plaid covered breast. But it was her free hand that held Angelus' attention, delving between her naked thighs and caressing herself in a way he never thought to see.

His tongue darting out to moisten his lips, Angelus blinked slowly, and then started at the low chuckle from Will. "Wanna get a photographer up here, mate? That sort of sight ought to be recorded for posterity."

Still speechless, Angelus dragged his gaze away from Dru and onto the young vampire who was also appreciating the show. What was missing from Will's face however was any sense of surprise, as if this behaviour was typical for Drusilla. In Angelus' experience it wasn't. For years he had been trying to debauch this girl, had even convinced himself that he had done it. What he was seeing now proved him conclusively wrong. He had never even come close. Yes, she'd begged him to fuck her. She'd brought him to outstanding orgasms with her mouth. She'd ridden him and come hard herself. He had done things to and with her that were considered physically impossible by most people. But never in twenty years had he seen that heavy lidded expression of total sensual abandon on her face. Just six months of this boy had achieved the impossible.

"Right. Best be going then." Will shucked on his jacket and slipped past Angelus to leave the room. Pausing for a moment, he glanced up at the older vampire and then back at Drusilla before saying magnanimously, "I might be a while, so if you wanna keep her warm for me." Then he vanished, his heavy labourer's boots beating a tattoo on the stairs.

Left alone with his girl, Angelus entered the room and pushed the door closed behind him. Drusilla showed no sign of having noticed either his arrival or Will's departure, continuing to slide her fingers hypnotically in and out of her body. She was so wet. Even from across the room Angelus could clearly see the glisten of fluids on her dark curls and upper thighs, and smell her overpowering arousal, complete and untarnished by the taint of fear he was accustomed to. There was no hint of Will in the scent, so it wasn't his emissions that had created her sopping state, though in retrospect the lad had reeked of her juices.

Her skin glowed in the dim firelight, which chased shadows over her face so that from moment to moment life seemed to pulse within her. Bewitched, Angelus remained by the door enjoying the feelings that rose in him in response to the scene, content for now to watch while his childe brought herself pleasure.Not that Darla had left him wanting, but there was something about watching those long, red painted fingers delving and probing and twisting…

Suddenly, the fear was there, chasing through her scent in sharp cruel lines. Angelus looked up and saw that Dru's eyes were now open, wide open, and she was gazing at him in ill-concealed terror. It was a look he'd seen a thousand times. Indeed he had carefully cultivated it until he could judge the exact state of her mind by how much she feared him. Right now she was petrified, her hand no longer moved, her mouth frozen open in a small oh of shock.

She looked like a victim and for some reason it sickened him.

Spinning on his heel, Angelus fled the room letting the door slam shut behind him.

***

Spike was procrastinating. She could virtually hear the cogs turning in his head as he shifted uneasily from foot to foot in the carpeted hallway.

Silently Darla crossed the room and hovered listening at the door, waiting for that moment just before… Now!

Swinging it open, she caught him exactly how she'd wanted. Hand raised poised to knock, pink lips parted with the bottom one caught between his teeth, blue eyes wide-open and vulnerable, panic skating across his face. Much like he'd been when she'd pushed him up against the wall this morning and kissed him silly. When she'd told him about tonight, whispering, "My room, eight o'clock. I need your services," in his ear. And then wandered off, leaving him standing there with a prick like iron and a bemused expression until she turned back with a flounce and a coquettish smile, and qualified, "To do my hair, you dirty, dirty boy."

"Come in," she purred, stepping back a half step, her heavy silk dress rustling around her ankles. Holding the door in such a way that he would have to brush against her to pass. "You and your… `spike'." Mm, he smelled delicious. Darla inhaled to better taste her granddaughter's scent mixed so flavoursomely with essence of scared fledgling.

Spike swallowed heavily and Darla's eyes lingered on his Adam's apple tempted to take a quick nibble, but settled for pinching his tight butt as he entered, occasioning a stifled yelp and a jump that took him further into the room.

Scuffing his bare feet - boots left in the hallway as per strict instructions - Spike glared down at the carpet, not wanting to give Darla the satisfaction of seeing the nervousness in his eyes. Hardly able to admit even to himself that the bravado he had shown in front of Angelus the other night had been exactly that. In truth the idea of being alone with Darla terrified the life out of him.

"Um… Your hair?" He mumbled raising his eyes just enough to see the tips of her tiny satin evening shoes peeking out from beneath exquisite ruffled cloth. She was wearing the gold damask and Spike found his mind immediately focussing on how best her hair should be fixed to compliment the outfit. Ringlets, in a cascade to mimic the train, fixed with the simple beaded combs and soft around her face without concealing its delicate heart shape. Luckily Darla's hair was a delight to work with, much easier than his mother's or sisters'.

Darla took her usual seat and waited for Spike to join her; fascinated as his face changed from the cold braggadocio mask he affected to a warm considering expression as he realised she was wearing his favourite gown. His entire demeanour changed when he was ministering to her or Drusilla in this way and it was what had convinced her to let him do this in the first place. Customarily she wouldn't let a male vampire within a chain of her toilette.

His deft fingers stroked through her hair, following the path of the brush and gently teasing out the tangles that had gathered during her earlier activities. In response hums of pleasure wound their way through her body, lulling nerves still frazzled from the news about the Slayer.

"Will you be needing me to accompany you?"

She smiled at the prim echoes of William in Spike's voice. This boy was developing depths she'd never suspected when he'd first joined them. It was a joy to watch and explore while she could; all too soon that defensive mask would become impenetrable.

"Not tonight. Though I will need the carriage."

"Fine. I'll get onto to that directly."

No pushing, no enquiries about what she was doing or planning. So different from Angelus. There was a generosity of spirit in this one that was as strange as it was endearing and exploitable.

The last twist of hair went up and a mother of pearl comb slid into place. Spike stood back to peruse his handiwork. It looked good, even if he did say so himself.

"All done. Anything else before I go?"

Darla patted the edge of the sofa next to her. "Sit, Spike." Then she laughed, "Angelus was right, it does sound like a dog's name. But no matter, it's your choice."

He grinned at her sheepishly and sat down, wondering what she wanted.

For a few moments neither of them spoke, though Spike rapidly felt like he was under a microscope Darla was studying him so intently, her eyes boring into him, assessing, calculating, judging. Eventually she asked, "You have been with us for just over six months, yes?"

"Yes, ma'am." He ducked his head, the honorific falling automatically in response to the tenor of her question. The lessons he had learned at his mother's knee; formality answered by formality, the eternal dance of manners.

"I realise things haven't always been easy. For example, I know Angelus has, on occasion, been harsh. However, now is the time to put that behind you, do you understand?"

Spike didn't have a clue what she was talking about but he wasn't about to admit it, so he simply nodded.

"You are part of the family, Spike. And our family has an ancient and honourable tradition. I'm sure Drusilla has explained all about my Sire and the Order. Events are starting to move on apace and if we are not mindful things could go badly for the family." She sighed as if the weight of the world rested on her shoulders. "The Slayer has left London, so as you can imagine things will doubtless become somewhat lively in the next few months."

It was one of those one sided conversations where you wished to hell you'd interrupted right at the beginning because every passing moment dragged you further and further out of your depth. Spike stared at Darla helplessly but she continued on regardless.

"I want you at Angelus' side. He trusts you, I think, despite your disagreements though I think you should make every effort to get closer to him. As my business may take me out of London at some point in the next few months I won't have time to keep an eye on things myself so I'd like you to do that for me. Do you think you're ready for that?" Another nod. This one tinged with desperation.

"Normally, I would ask you to swear allegiance to myself or my Sire but I think that will have to wait for a more auspicious moment." Darla smiled as if deciding something and finished, "Instead we will seal the pact in the time-honoured fashion. In blood."

Ignoring the sudden panic stricken look on the young vampire's face, she loomed over Spike pushing him back onto the sofa so he was reclined on the gowns that still littered the room. With an adorable pout, she said, "But first, Angelus made me a little… messy earlier. Be an absolute dear and tidy up."

***

As the other vampire had earlier, so Angelus hovered outside Darla's door. But unlike Spike before him, it wasn't nerves that made him hesitate; he was busy listening to what was happening inside. And now his head was spinning from it.

Darla was setting Spike to spy on him.

She wanted Spike to swear allegiance to the Master.

Business was going to take her out of London.

There was only one thing those three facts added up to. Darla was returning to her Sire. She was aligning with the Master against Angelus in the battle for London. And finally, she was installing Spike as the means for his downfall, placing the boy by his side and instructing him to get close, presumably so he would be in the ideal position to take him down when the order finally came.

Angelus staggered away from the door, finding the stairs blindly and descending them at a crawl, his hands clutching the banister for support. Reaching the hallway, he headed straight for the dining room needing strong drink and some space to think. The decanter shook in his hand as he poured, rattling against the glass and Angelus growled in self-disgust at the outward show of weakness.

Abandoning civility, he snatched up the decanter and took a deep swig of whisky, his eyes closing around the burn of the liquor. Immediately Spike's image appeared in his mind, painted in the livid colours of rage and the crystal flew across the room to smash against the wall, trailing alcohol behind it.

The boy was everywhere. First Drusilla and now Darla. He'd inveigled his way into the household, a weak pathetic puppy that Angelus wouldn't have bothered to kill a few months ago, and now, suddenly, he was flavour of the month. Drusilla's lover - because Angelus could not deny what he'd seen in his childe's eyes. And Darla's toy, her trusted associate.

Angelus stood, panting, in the middle of the room, his mind whirling with incomprehension. When had this happened? When had it all spun out of his control?

He should kill the boy. Now, before Darla's plans could mature.

Ah, but thereby lay the crux of the problem.

Just how far along were Darla's plans? How many vampires did she already have in her pay? If he killed Spike out of hand then she would know he was on to her and she could turn on him in a moment. Angelus harboured no illusions that his Sire was capable of just that, there was a long and ignoble history of treachery and deceit between them.

Damn, he should never have let her visit that house without him. That must be where she was planning all this. Maybe the Master was already here, happily ensconced in Norfolk Street… No, the bat-nosed bastard hated houses. He'd be underground somewhere, with his minions and sycophants.

A loud crash from the hallway disturbed his thoughts and he reached the door just in time to witness William staggering from the house.

***

The blood Darla had fed him raged through his system like the finest opium, stretching the world into impossible pirouetting contours. Missing his feet on the stairs, he tumbled downwards, hearing but not feeling each detailed impact of flesh on wood, resting stunned on the tile before recovering his equilibrium.

Christ but he needed to feed.

He at least had the presence of mind to snag his coat before reaching the door, slipping it over his shoulders and pulling up the collar to cover the tear in his neck where Darla had drawn her gift back out of his body. The chill air, having no effect on a vampire's constitution, he reeled down the street, keeping close to the walls and hiding his face, which kept sliding uncontrollably between human and demon.

Two hundred yards further on he snatched a woman and dragged her screaming into an alley, uncaring of who saw him, simply desperate to quell the tumultuous blood lust that coursed through his body. Slamming his lips over hers to silence the noise, his face settled to demon and his fangs sliced through her tongue. He spat the piece of severed muscle away and returned to drink from the fount of life that spurted from her mouth, gulping ravenously at every drop.

It wasn't enough. He needed to be closer, inside her, to stop this fire in his veins.

Clawed digits scrabbled at the front of her dress, tearing the cloth into scraps, then delved deeper, ripping through flesh to the softer organs beneath. Comforted by their viscous touch, his frantic movements slowed and he took his time, fingers dallying through viscera and playing with the guts that spilled through them onto the ground.

One part of his desire temporarily sated, Spike released her mouth and lifted his head, inhaling a deep shuddering breath. Blood dripped down his chin, splattering his already stained shirt with more crimson drops and in his arms the woman twitched once and went still. He dropped her corpse into the filth and stumbled away deeper into the shadows.

Somewhere on the edges of his awareness he realised his actions were foolish to the point of idiocy but rational thought was still beyond him. Having fulfilled the hunger, lust was driving him onwards back towards the streets where he would find warmth, life, flesh he could tear and ravage.

A heavy body knocked him flying into a wall, pinning him there as he tried to struggle free and a hand yanked his head round until he was staring unseeing up into Angelus' face. **

The boy was as high as a kite.

Angelus waved a hand in front of Spike's face. There was no reaction. His yellow eyes remained fixed and unblinking, his expression twisted into a rictus of need that was at once disturbing and familiar.

"What did she give you?" He snarled as all thoughts of staking vanishing from his head.

Still nothing. Shaking Spike hard, Angelus tried again. "Damn it, boy, I'm speaking to you. What did she give you?"

"B-blood," came the stuttered reply. "T-tasted funny."

Angelus' hands fell from Spike's shoulders as he stepped back and he swore, long and loud, finally pulling the unresisting fledge into a hold that was part hug and part restraint. "Never, ever drink blood that tastes `funny'. God only knows what she put in it, though from the looks of you I'd hazard a guess it was cocaine."

At such close quarters the subtle whiff of Spike's blood permeated the stink of the alley and the overwhelming smell of human blood. Angelus pulled the coat to one side and when he saw the tear decorating the lad's neck he swore again. "Did she drink from you?"

From experience Angelus knew that, second hand, cocaine gave the drinker a pleasant buzz but it wasn't as much fun for the vampire in the middle. If Darla had taken a lot, and the seeping wound seemed to suggest it, then the effects of the drug would be concentrated. No wonder the boy seemed disorientated and unaware. Still it could work to his advantage. As he sobered up Spike would be more likely to answer any questions truthfully. Maybe this was the opportunity to discover the exact nature of Darla's plans.

"Cold." The statement was both impossible and unlikely given that Spike had just fed well, but the young vampire was shivering and snuggling into Angelus' side, trying to burrow under his coat.

Determined to keep his charge conscious, Angelus lifted Spike's chin ready to slap his face if he looked to be drifting off again. Instead he found his mouth hijacked by a stoned fledgling who'd apparently decided to take the initiative. Ah yes, Angelus mused through the assault, tasting himself, Darla and Drusilla, unrelenting lust, the other effect of cocaine. Presumably the reason Darla had fed it to Spike in the first place. She'd probably forgotten she was going out.

Spike whimpered in the back of his throat as he tried to deepen the kiss, unaware of anything except the fire coursing through him demanding that he get some relief. Warmth and women forgotten he rubbed up against Angelus, tightening his grip on the older vampire's hair and coat, pulling him closer, searching for something, anything.

Oh god, yes, that was it. Expert fingers massaged his aching cock through his soft trousers and he ground himself into the hand wanting to feel more. An answering hardness poked at his abdomen and he groaned in appreciation.

Suddenly the lips he was devouring were torn away, leaving him bereft and almost crying with need.

"Hang on, hang on." Angelus' voice, breathless and irritated. Then the cold brick of the alley wall pressed tight against his back, his trousers ripped open and "Yes, please, yes," as he felt fingers close around them both. Engorged flesh rubbed against engorged flesh and Spike rose on his toes to bring them closer together, his mouth searching blindly for the lips that had abandoned him. They returned demanding and insistent, bringing a tongue that probed his lips forcing them open and plunging in to explore. It skated across his palette leaving tracks of heat in its wake and then deliberately cut itself on his fangs flooding his mouth with the heady taste of Angelus' blood.

Caught up in the dual assault, the rest of the world ceased to matter, his bubble of awareness shrinking until it contained only the body possessing him and his own want. Waves of desire crashed through him in time with the hand tugging roughly, rhythmically on his cock. He was falling, falling fast, and he ripped his mouth free to pant harshly in the night air.

Then it stopped. Nothing. No touch, no movement. Simply that weight pinning him to the wall. An animalistic keen of frustration escaped from his chest.

"Tell me about Darla." Angelus' voice growled in his ear.

Darla? What about Darla? "Angelus, please!"

Not embarrassed to be caught pleading, Spike thrust his hips forwards begging with his body as well as his words, dropping his hands to latch on to Angelus' hips to press them close once more. The unthinking strategy worked as their erections made contact once again, sliding against each other and eliciting a moan from the older vampire.

Something that sounded remarkably like "Fuck it all, I'll make you talk later," spilled out on its heels and then the hand was back, harsher and faster than before. A dozen strokes later and Spike was digging his fingers into Angelus' neck and throwing his head back to wail his release into the night. Angelus followed moments later and they collapsed onto one another, Spike resting on his mentor's shoulder, Angelus' panting breath parting his hair.

He was still recovering when Angelus shifted, pushed him upright and shoved his come coated fingers in his face.

"Clean them," he snarled, his eyes flashing gold and brooking no argument.

Spike complied, keeping his gaze fixed on Angelus and using him as an anchor in a world that was still defying the laws of physics. The disorientation didn't prevent him from noticing the way the older vampire's eyes darkened and flicked from studying his face to his tongue as it lapped and laved his fingers. Nor did it stop him from feeling the slight shake in that hand and the subtle stirrings in lower parts of Angelus' anatomy. In a moment of mischief he let one finger slip into his mouth, sucking it slowly and working his tongue round the top, watching as Angelus' eyes latched onto his mouth and darkened still further. He was playing with fire, and knew it, but sometimes Spike just didn't know when to quit.

The cuff round the ear was a fair indication that he'd stepped over the line however and he freed the finger with a loud pop.

Angelus stepped back out of temptation's reach, tucking himself back in his trousers and fixed the younger vampire with a hard glare. If Spike was aware enough to play like that, then he could sure as hell answer questions.

"Darla. Start talking."

The stare was returned in a vaguely cockeyed way and Spike mumbled, "Dunno what yer talking about," before attempting to walk off, tripping over his unfastened trousers and falling flat on his face.

Angelus stormed after him, yanked him up by the collar and then threw him down again in disgust when he noticed the rolled back eyes and slack jaw. "Jesus Christ, he passed out!"

***

"Enchanted, I'm sure." Darla bobbed a curtsey and smiled up at yet another handsome young gentleman in front of her, the latest in a long line she'd been introduced to this evening and hoping to hell that she hadn't met him before.

The party swirled round her; colours, sounds, and human heat topped with a glaze of the best champagne. Still buzzing slightly from her cocaine laced snack Darla politely excused herself and headed towards the balcony, ostensibly for a breath of fresh air. As she passed Lily she overhead a conversation that immediately had her on edge.

"Darling, have you decided yet whether or not to sit for me? It could be exactly what you need now that Louis has gone."

"I'll consider it, Frank, truly. The time has long passed when I can afford to be too choosy."

Darla swept in and placed a hand gently on Lily's arm, easing her to one side as the little group laughed at the artist's expense.

"Do you think that is entirely wise, my dear, in your, err… delicate condition?"

Lily's blue eyes opened wide, the thought of curtailing her activities now she was pregnant having never occurred to her.

"Surely simply posing for a picture would do no harm?"

"Ah, but what detail may an artist's eye discover that others may overlook?"

"You are so right, sister." Lily threw her arms around the unsuspecting vampire. "What would I do without you?"

"Not give such lavish parties, methinks." Darla muttered and the young woman flushed, embarrassed at having been caught out spending her benefactor's money on such fripperies.

"Are you vexed with me, Darla? I had but thought to raise my light in society again. Sarah suggested the stage, however as we both know, that cannot be as yet."

The vampire smiled indulgently quite prepared to spend as much of Angelus' money as she needed in order to claim her prize. She patted Lily's arm, "I am not angry, simply surprised. You had told me this was to be a quiet evening with few guests."

Together they looked around the room with its colourful dancing throng, about as far from a small gathering as the house could sustain. "I began small," Lily explained apologetically, "then word spread and so many, many people wanted to come."

"No matter. Just try to remember Louis' coffers are not bottomless." Leaving Lily to return to her guests, Darla continued on to the balcony, drawing aside the curtain and stepping out into the night.

She stood for a moment and then spoke into seemingly empty darkness. "Joshua? What brings you to a gathering such as this?"

From the shadows a low voice answered, "I may ask the same thing." Then a figure moved into the light spilling from the room. Tall and fair haired, thin enough to be described as emaciated in some circles, the man moved with a grace that had to be preternatural. He took up a position at Darla's side, staring out across a city bathed in the glow of gas light and fog and said, "I feel I should be saying something appropriate like `Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.' Does that sound pretentious?"

"No more so than your usual fare, brother. Wit was never your forte."

Joshua sucked in air and retorted, "And you, sister, have more than your own share. Not that it makes you any less entertaining."

"Are we going to stand here all night and fence or will you answer my question?" Darla could have kicked herself for caving in first but she was hungry and the rush of her earlier sampling was starting to wear off, leaving her waspish.

Offering a bow in Darla's direction, Joshua said, "My apologies. I had no idea this place came within your territory. I was under the impression that such gatherings were open to all. I will leave if that is what you wish."

Darla let out a breath she hadn't realised she was holding. Her younger brother wasn't here for any specific reason, then. There would be no reason to call foul or issue a challenge. "No, Joshua, you may stay. But do not take that as permission to feed off these humans. The Slayer would be all too quick to remind you of your folly."

He bowed again and backed away into the room, leaving her alone with her thoughts of Slayers, London and gifts.

Part Five