TITLE: What Remains
RATING: PG
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
PAIRINGS: Implied Spike/Drusilla, Herbert/Spike, Herbert/Spike/von Krolock (comfort only)
WORDS: 6829
NOTES: Yet again, I find myself blaming
bwinter for this. Written over two days and a course of comments-discussion, it transpires I have a new mini-series to work on. Really should be more cross about that, but the characters work together so nicely. And yes, there's slashiness. They're vampires :P
Also, first attempt writing Illyria, so please be gentle.
___________________________
“It seems you are forgotten.”
Staring up at the darkened castle, Spike didn’t bother to look back at his companion. “Been a while since I dropped by,” he muttered. “A lot happened here. Don’t know if the old bugger survived.”
“You claimed this half-breed was a sorcerer of great power,” Illyria observed from several paces behind him, branches and dry leaves crackling beneath her boots. “The elder and greater most often outlive the young and foolish.”
Reaching out to touch the cool, wrought-metal of the gates, Spike hesitated. “Yeah,” he acknowledged. “And you don’t get much more foolish than me.”
“You attempt to hide behind humour once more,” Illyria folded her arms with a creak of leather. “You feel grief, but you do not show it. Do you believe these half-mortals to be dead too?”
Grimacing, Spike didn’t turn. “Just... just shut up, will you?”
It was a sign of how long they had been in one another’s company that she did not respond with her usual scathing words, instead watching him, waiting for his direction about what they should do next.
As he touched the metal of the gates haltingly, as if expecting to be burnt, Spike’s frown only deepened. This was where he had always directed any messages when he had sent them in years gone by, but the place looked like it had been overhauled by the government or something, judging by the hefty padlocks.
On the nearby road - which ran a lot closer to the towering building than Spike could remember - a car roared along, throwing up gravel. The distant sweep of the headlamps was visible through the stark silhouettes of the trees.
Slipping his hands into his pockets, Spike stared at the castle. This had been his one last hope. It had been the place Dru had loved for years and he had to admit he felt at home there during his visits. On top of that, it held a hell of a lot of memories that were - if not surprisingly happy - then fond and pretty kinky.
Not like he had anyone left to wander back to.
He’d seen Angel fall, watched Gunn go down fighting, expected to feel the grasping shadows of hell grabbing at him once more, wrenching him from mortality and back into the place he had been briefly and terrifyingly trapped.
Yet, here he stood, in front of the empty home of the only vampires he had believed were still alive and who might take him in after everything.
No, that was a lie.
Dru was out there, somewhere, probably going through lovers like stakes through a fledgling, but they were over. Had been for nearly seven years, ever since the day he’d made the deal with Buffy. Even if she did want him back, even he had wanted to return to her, he knew it wouldn’t have been the same, not now, not after everything that had happened.
Couldn’t go after Buffy either. As much and as fiercely as he had briefly loved her, it wouldn’t work. He’d seen it himself that it was time to move on and she’d never loved him anyway, so no point barking up that tree again.
Coming here, he’d thought at least he’d get a shag of commiseration and somewhere to get his head down for a few days until he worked out just what the hell a souled vampire was meant to do with himself, but it seemed that was certainly not going to be the case.
Somewhere nearby, the car had apparently stopped. A door slammed loudly in the stillness. Of all the things he wanted to see here, Spike certainly wasn’t in the mood for an encounter with government security again. It had happened before and no good ever came of it.
Sighing, he turned back towards Illyria. “No reason to hang around here,” he said, nodding back in the direction they had come from. “Should get on our way.”
“You said this was the final place you might seek sanctuary,” she observed, approaching the gates even as he started to walk away from them.
“Yeah, I did,” Spike’s eyes darted sideways, a prickle of unease running the length of his spine. “And so it was. Guess we’re just going to find somewhere new where they won’t mind a reformed vampire and an ex-God hanging around and having a pint.”
“These defences are fragile,” she announced, reaching out with one hand, as if she intended to rip the gates from their hinges.
“Don’t,” Spike’s voice was little more than a weary breath. “Look, Blue, they aren’t there. No reason to flog a dead horse.” He nodded in the direction of the village, where they had taken up shelter the previous evening. “C’mon.”
He didn’t look back to see if she was following him.
“Leaving so soon?” a silken voice purred in English.
Stopping so sharply Illyria almost walked into his back, Spike froze, eyes wide. It seemed that he was having trouble moving as he slowly turned, nostrils flaring as he fought for unnecessary breath.
He could see a silhouette among the trees, could recognise that drawling tone, could feel the tingle of anticipation in spite of the decades.
Yet when the blur of motion came and he was tackled, the speed caught him as off-guard as always. He was thrown back several paces, collided with and promptly pinned against the gate with an echoing clang, an arm pressing across his throat and another slipping under his coat.
Laughing grey eyes beamed down at him. “Good evening, darling.” Blue eyes stared back up in disbelief. “Long time.”
“Herbie!” Spike’s voice cracked, his hands reaching out to grasp Herbert’s arms, a lifeline he had been seeking since he and Illyria had left L.A. “Oh, thank fuck.”
Abruptly, though, the contact was severed.
Dangling from Illyria’s hand by his neck, Herbert glanced at her, then back at Spike, brows shooting towards his hairline. “A friend of yours?” he inquired as much as the hand around his throat would allow him.
“Blue, drop him!” Spike stepped forward quickly.
Illyria scowled up at the golden-haired vampire. “This half-breed wished to do you harm,” she said flatly. “I will not tolerate your death. It would displease me.”
Still, she opened her hand and dropped Herbert, who promptly straightened up and smoothed his rumpled coat.
“Not that I don’t appreciate the sentiment, Blue,” Spike said, staring at Herbert with a hunger and almost manic desperation. “But Herbie’s an old mate.” Reaching out, he grasped Herbert’s arm again. “You all right?”
With a quizzical look at the hand gripping his arm, then at Spike’s face, Herbert’s expression altered and he stepped closer. “I could ask you the same question,” he said softly, lifting his hand to Spike’s shoulder.
A shrill burst of laughter bubbled from Spike’s lips. “Been better,” he mumbled.
“So I see.” Herbert did not hesitate, his other hand leaping up and pulling Spike hard against him, bringing their lips together, comfort, desire and affection overlapping as he wrapped his arm around the younger vampire, apparently oblivious to the demon standing behind them.
Clutching at Herbert, as if fearing he might vanish like everything and everyone else Spike had come to care for, Spike couldn’t care less how much of a fanny he looked, clinging to Herbert like a lost little girl.
“I understand.” Several minutes later, when they broke apart panting, Herbert gently pressing his brow to Spike’s, they were reminded of Illyria’s presence, when she said, “This is the creature you wished to copulate with.”
“Again,” Herbert murmured, tousling Spike’s mussed hair, one arm still draped idly around Spike’s narrow shoulders. Almost casual, yet not quite.
Laughing weakly, Spike rubbed a hand roughly over his face and Herbert averted his eyes for a moment, allowing the younger vampire a moment of privacy. With a hasty cough, Spike sniffed hard.
“Should do the introduction thing,” he said, a noticeable break in his voice. “Blue, this is Herbert von Krolock. Herbie, this is Illyria, supreme overlord of somewhere or other. Retired.”
Illyria’s eyes flicked over Herbert as he gazed neutrally back at her. “If you cause my pet further pain, I will rip your spine from your body and leave your body to burn in the sun, half-breed,” she said, solid blue eyes promising that every threat and more would be entirely doable.
One side of the vampire’s mouth curled up. “Understood, your Highness,” he said, then glanced at Spike, who had a lop-sided, half-smile on his face. “You certainly have interesting taste in companions, William.”
“Yeah,” Spike’s voice was quietly, strangely subdued, the lack of argument over his name causing Herbert’s brows to rise. “Can’t deal with all that normal stuff.”
Tilting his head to press a fond kiss to Spike’s brow, Herbert glanced up at the castle. “You’re fortunate I happened to be here tonight.” he said. “I came to collect the postal deliveries.” He laughed lightly. “Would you believe father retired to middle of nowhere, to the manor?”
The look of sheer relief and barely-masked joy that lit up Spike’s face would have broken a stone heart. “I thought something had happened,” Spike mumbled. “Castle all shut up. Big notices in some kind of weird lingo. Didn’t know if either of you were still about.”
“Oh we are, darling.” A second kiss was followed by a third, Herbert’s hand cupping Spike’s chin, claiming his lips once more. Drawing back a fraction, lips still touching the younger vampire’s, he smiled softly. “Don’t you worry about that.”
“Why do you suck his mouth again?” Illyria demanded abruptly as Spike lowered his eyes, averting his face from Herbert’s. “Is this some form of communication? Does it express significant matters?”
“Expresses enough,” Spike’s voice was quiet, but calmer than it had been. Blue eyes lifted to Herbert’s grey ones. “Don’t want to get in your way, if you’re in a hurry, mate.”
“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, darling!” Herbert exclaimed. “You’re coming back to the manor with me. Father would skin me alive and dip me in vinegar if I let you go trotting off without having you visit.”
Spike’s lips twitched slightly. “Your dad’s a lovely man, really.”
“That he is,” Herbert said happily. “And I have no doubts he’ll be delighted to see you.”
Spike’s brows rose and he laughed faintly. “Well, lovely never did mean sane.”
____________________________
Laying down the text he had been in the middle of analysing, the Graf von Krolock frowned slightly, brows drawing together. He had felt the ripple of air that indicated a door had been opened, and the earlier roar of engines suggested it was Herbert.
However, there was a subtle change in the texture of the air, and a combination of scents he could not quite place were curling about him, intimate spirals, touching on his memory and making him rise suddenly.
What little colour he had left in his face faded as he turned, striding towards the door and into the broad halls of the house.
The scent that had been so fleetingly illusive surfaced in his memory and he found himself certain he must be mistaken. His foresight was rarely wrong, and he had seen death, in flames and agony, and had grieved for the loss of one worth so much more than those around him had realised.
Deeper in the house, close to the underground garage Herbert had installed when he had bought his first cars, he could hear voices. Definitely more than one, and there were few that Herbert would bring back to the manor without prior warning.
Focussing all his control, he closed his eyes and felt the pressure of his magic about him, felt the change in the air and opened his eyes as he materialised at the top of the staircase of the entrance hall.
Three figures had just entered through the doorway that lead down towards the garage and one of them caused von Krolock’s legs to buckle briefly beneath him, his hand capturing the rail of the staircase, stabilising him.
“Father!”
Ignoring his son, his own dark eyes snared by blue, the Graf descended the stairs as one blind, clutching the rail, until he stood before the vampire he had seen burned to dust and consumed by hell.
William stared back at him, wary, paler than he had been, his once-bright, laughing eyes blood-shot and his posture one that von Krolock recognised easily. “Sir,” he mumbled, dropping his eyes.
“Oh, William,” von Krolock’s voice was a pitying murmur.
A glance would have shown him why the boy suffered so, the shadow in his exhausted eyes expressing an ocean of grief and regret, bound to the confining snare of a mortal soul. Laying long, pale hands on William’s narrow shoulders, he drew the youngster to him.
Stooping, placing a gentle kiss on William’s brow, von Krolock smiled sadly. “I never thought I would see you in our halls again, William,” he murmured.
“Me either, sir,” William fiddled with the buttons on his coat, like a child fearing reprimand. “You warned me years back.” He looked up at von Krolock, his smile watery, shaking. “Didn’t listen, did I? You said it would happen. Bad things.” His voice broke and he gave a hysterical little laugh. “Should have listened... should have let the bitch die...”
Hushing him with soothing murmurs, von Krolock drew the distraught William towards him, unsurprised when he went rigid, though his pale head dropped to rest on the Graf’s velvet-covered shoulder.
“You did what you felt was right, William,” he said, lips close to William’s ear, his voice little more than a whisper, one long-fingered hand cradling the back of the young vampire’s skull. “You saved the one you loved.”
Uttering a sound like a whimper, William pressed his clenched fists against the Graf’s broader chest, his shoulders trembling. Resting his cheek on the boy’s crown, von Krolock closed his eyes in sympathy, arms loosely about William‘s slimmer body, in wordless comfort and support.
“I thought you might like to see him,” Herbert spoke up after several moments of silence. He sounded relieved and pleased. “He thought you would have to be mad to think such a thing.”
“Shaddup.” The mumbling protest came from the youngest vampire. “Poofter.”
Laughing softly, von Krolock drew back a fraction. “I am glad to see your charming rapport with my son remains undamaged,” he murmured, ensuring he remained within touching distance of the grief-wrought youngster.
“Git jumped on me,” William’s voice was little more than a whisper, just on the edge of hearing, close to breaking and laced with emotion he was still, hopelessly, trying to restrain. “Could’ve just said hello.”
“And have you think him a stranger?” Von Krolock arched a brow, nodding towards the smirking Herbert. “You, William, of all people know what my son is like.”
Pale blue eyes, far brighter than they had been moments earlier, though not from any fonder emotion, darted towards Herbert, then dropped to the floor again. “Yeah,” he admitted, laughing weakly. “Kinky bugger.”
“Had I known you were going to be at the castle,” Herbert said amiably, teasingly, though his expression suggested that every word rang true, “I would have come better equipped to prove that to you.”
Von Krolock felt William shiver beneath his arm, could feel the intensity suddenly rising from the younger man, a culmination of hundreds of emotions running wild behind his carefully-controlled façade.
“And I see you have brought a second guest,” he murmured to his son, lifting his eyes to Herbert. Herbert glanced at William, understanding, then nodded. He turned to the blue-skinned being who was examining a vase.
“This is Illyria, father.” Herbert’s voice was polite, respectful to the utmost, and that was enough to cause his father to raise an eyebrow. “She is William’s companion. Illyria, my father, the Graf von Krolock.”
As she turned towards him, the humanoid’s eyes roved over him, her expression unreadable. Even the surface of this creature’s form was enough to dissuade him from skimming beyond, at least for the moment.
“You are the sorcerer.” Despite the shape of a small, delicate female, Illyria’s voice had a strangely hollow sound to it, utterly lacking in emotion or tone. “Spike has spoken well of your power and knowledge.”
“He flatters,” von Krolock said, inclining his head gravely. “You travel with him?”
“The mortals that harboured me were slain. He is the only one that remains.” It was said so flatly, calmly, as if it meant nothing, but under von Krolock’s arm, William’s body had tensed, shoulders taut.
Stroking his hand over the youngster’s shoulders in a soothing gesture, von Krolock gazed at the woman’s face. “Would you choose to remain with him?” he asked. “Or is there another path you wish to follow?”
Illyria studied him, then William. For a moment, she almost looked perplexed. “I do not understand the emotions of lesser beings,” she said. “But I have become accustomed to his presence. If he remains, then I also will.”
“You sure, Blue?” William asked quietly.
Folding her arms over her chest and rocking on her feet, Illyria gazed at him. “You claimed this sorcerer has power and greater wisdom,” she said, without deigning to direct her attention at von Krolock. “Since Wesley is dead, this one will teach me so that when I tire of your pitiful mewling, I may walk this world alone.”
Clearly she had said the right thing, despite the harshness of her words.
Pale eyes rose slowly to von Krolock. “I know I’ve got no right asking this,” William said hesitantly. “But if you have a bit of time, would you mind teaching an ex-god of the demon age a bit about the world today?”
Ah. There was adequate explanation for the unnatural sensation that scorched the air around the woman.
“If that is what you wish,” he murmured, holding her gaze with his own, fingertips moving lightly upon William’s taut shoulder. “May I ask if you are familiar with the written languages of the world in these days?”
“The shell was familiar with the language of the lands of America,” Illyria replied, flexing her fingers against her upper arms. “I share this knowledge.”
Von Krolock slowly nodded. Though he knew nothing of her, nor her intentions, his focus was upon William. He wished to talk to the boy, wished to provide comfort that the youngster clearly needed.
“Do you require anything, Highness?” he asked civilly. “Sustenance? Rest?”
Apparently surprised by his manner, Illyria approached him and the younger vampire in his hold. “These mortal things are unnecessary. I desire to know of this world. You will teach me.” Tilting her head, she studied his face thoughtfully. “You intrigue me, half-breed.”
Von Krolock’s lips curled slightly and he inclined his head. “I shall teach you, then, Highness,” he said. “But now, I crave your indulgence until tomorrow. Until then, you have all the access you require to my library and my archives. Herbert.”
“Father?”
“Take our guest to the library,” he said. “I shall install William in the his chamber.”
“Blue!” William looked up abruptly. “Don’t break anything, right? You can’t damage anything. Put everything back in its place once you finish with it.”
“This is another of your customs?”
William laughed weakly. “Yeah. Something like that,” he said. “Go on. Lots for you to look at there.”
As the pair moved down one of the halls, von Krolock drew William with him.
“You must be tired. I expect you have come a long way,” he murmured, leading the younger vampire back up the main staircase and into the shadowy hallways. William nodded without speaking.
As he opened the fifth door along the hallway, revealing a fairly simple bedroom with a modest living area, he looked down at the silent youngster behind him. “Will you be staying with us long, William?”
“Dunno yet.” Drawing away, William toed his boots off and stepped into the room, not looking around. “Don’t want to be getting in your way.”
“Nonsense, dear boy,” von Krolock murmured, watching the youngest vampire meander in aimless circles around the room. “You have ever been welcome here. You need not doubt that.”
As he glanced over his shoulder, William’s smile was faint. “Yeah,” he mumbled. “But things are a bit different now, aren’t they?” He approached the broad bed, sitting gingerly on the edge of the mattress.
It did not go unnoticed that, despite kicking off his boots at the door and dropping a handful of tickets, receipts and bits of rubbish on the table from his pockets, William kept his long, leather coat wrapped around him.
“Different or not,” von Krolock murmured, “You are welcome as long as you wish to remain.” Folding his hands before him, von Krolock moved a little closer. “In fact, I would take offence if I found you gone.”
The tension which had been clinging to the air, unnoticed until it was gone, seemed to dissipate. The invisible cords holding the younger vampire so taut were cut and he sagged, shoulders slumping, arms wrapped over his torso.
“Been a while since I stayed in one place, especially anywhere with beds,” he admitted, staring down at his striped socks. A toe was poking through a hole in one of them. “Don’t like going anywhere that Illyria has to doll herself up.”
“She has the ability to use a glamour?”
Even before William chose to answer, von Krolock knew that was not the case.
Shaking his head, William stared down at his naked toe. “She makes herself look like the woman that body belonged to,” he muttered. His breath shivered between his lips. “Makes herself look like Fred again.”
“A friend of yours,” von Krolock murmured sympathetically, approaching the seated vampire. William nodded towards the floor, wiggling his toe, trying to make it retreat within the torn sock. “And this Wesley Illyria spoke of?”
The youngster’s eyes were looking anywhere but at von Krolock, darting across the floor, his arms tightening around his middle. “Loved her, the pompous arse,” he muttered, then laughed, a brittle sound. “They just got together. Never seen her as happy as when she was pretending they were having a big secret romance. Bet she thought we couldn’t smell it on her. Might have been the smartest bird I ever met, but she... she could be so bloody thick sometimes...” He drew a quivering breath. “And then, Illyria came along. Nicked her body. Killed our Fred.” His voice was shriller, breaking. “Bit of a bugger, really.”
Without thought, von Krolock laid his hand on the young vampire’s bowed head, felt him shudder. “Yet you travel with the demon who possesses her body...”
William nodded. “Funny old world, innit?” he whispered. “All I had left.”
“Don’t be ridiculous, cheri,” Herbert’s voice cut through the air as he strode into the room behind his father. His coat was quickly thrown onto one of the chairs, his elegant shoes kicked off, and he climbed onto the bed behind William. Sliding up against William’s back, his legs framing William’s, he wrapped his arms around the younger vampire and rested his chin on William’s shoulder. “You have us.”
Von Krolock could see William’s eyes squeeze closed, could see the way his body relaxed against Herbert’s. He saw the subtle loosening of the young vampire’s arms from his torso to allow Herbert to hold him more closely.
Drawing one of the chairs closer, von Krolock sat, folding his hands in his lap, as Herbert nuzzled comfortingly at William’s cheek. “He is correct, William,” he added to his son’s words. “Though I would not let that go to his head.”
Laughing faintly, William tilted his brow against Herbert’s pale cheek in wordless gratitude. “I’ll try not to,” he said. “Silly sod that he is.”
“I’m not the one wearing holey clothing,” Herbert observed, biting William lightly on the earlobe in reprimand. “In all honesty, darling, where did you find such horrific socks?”
As William lifted one foot to examine it, his arms loosened enough for him to idly stroke his fingertips along Herbert’s hand. “Empath demon,” he said softly. “Didn’t know what to get a vampire for Christmas. Thought socks were nice and traditional.”
“In the company of humans and gentle demons...” Von Krolock touched his fingertips together, his eyes on the boy’s down-turned face. “I thought you lost, William, taken by darkness, yet it seems you had far more ahead than I saw.”
“Bleeding ton of stuff.” Pale fingers contracted against Herbert’s hand. “But you’re not wrong, sir.” He laughed again, as uncertainly as before, risking a glance at von Krolock. “Been a rough couple of years. Getting bumped off was the easiest bit.”
“Bumped off...?” Herbert echoed. “What is this? You... died?”
“I got better,” William mumbled, lowering his face again.
Herbert’s hands leapt to William’s shoulders and he leaned awkwardly to look at the younger vampire’s face. “Truly? But how...?”
“Long story involving the mouth of hell, a bloody annoying necklace, about thirty vampire Slayers and fire. Lots of it,” William said, the briskness of his tone clear enough indication that he didn’t want to say more on the subject.
“And the soul?” Von Krolock’s dark eyes waited for William’s to rise, caught them, held, saw surprise, fear, confusion. Stiffening in Herbert’s embrace, his hands flexedas William licked his lips uneasily. “I saw it within you the moment I saw you, William. When you did not deny your name, you only confirmed it.”
William looked away, his arms tightening about himself once more in the absence of Herbert’s enfolding arms. “Hoped you wouldn’t notice that,” he muttered.
“Why?” von Krolock asked softly. “Why would it cause us to think any less of you?”
William’s narrow shoulder lifted a little. “Most vampires don’t like vampires with souls,” he mumbled.
Drawing his seat forward, von Krolock unfolded a hand and gently lifted William’s chin. “And when,” he asked with a suggestion of a brief smile, “Have we ever been ‘most vampires’, William?”
“It’s true,” Herbert added, wriggling closer to enfold William once more. “I have never met any quite like us. More fool them.”
Looking between father and son, William’s expression registered genuine surprise and gratitude. “You aren’t bothered? Really?”
“Dead, then raised once more and now with a soul?” Herbert sighed, dropping his chin back to Spike’s shoulder. “You have all the excitement in your life, darling. The most I had was a civil uprising.”
At that, some of the tension seemed to disperse from William’s form, his laugh genuine, stronger for the first time since he had arrived in the house. “You are a silly bugger, Herbie.”
Planting a fond kiss under William’s ear, Herbert smiled. “And quite proud of it,” he said, rubbing his hand in a circle on William’s stomach, beneath the folds of his coat. “Did you really think we would force you out?”
Laying his hand over Herbert’s, his eyes dropping again, William nodded. “I’ve seen it happen before,” he mumbled. “Angelus... he got a soul more than a hundred years back. Got kicked out by Darla, treated like crap, then ended up helping out a Slayer. Didn’t help his popularity.”
Herbert snorted. “You’re nothing like that idiot.” he said flatly, but he didn’t see the expression that crossed the younger vampire’s face, nor sense the flare of pain, grief, loss and loathing. “As foolish a darling as you might be...”
“Herbert,” his father said softly, raising a hand. “William?”
“Died,” the young vampire whispered faintly.
Startled, Herbert almost pulled away, but William’s hand clutched his in an almost desperate grip. Uttering a soft, crooning sound, Herbert nuzzled his jaw, puzzled, his eyes meeting his father’s.
Von Krolock leaned forward, waiting for William’s eyes to seek his again. “Things had changed between you,” he said, not truly needing confirmation. William nodded tightly. “Do you wish to talk about it?”
Squeezing his eyes shut, the young vampire shook his head.
“If you do...”
“Git got a soul and went good!” His words were sharp, clipped, terse. “Ended up in the same boat, fighting on the same side: two vampires and their souls. Just started remember why he’d been all right and he bloody died.” He choked on the words and Herbert uttered a sound of distress at the cool splash of tears on his skin. “Right in front of me. There he was, then dust. Nothing. Blowing in the sodding wind!” Trying to pull away from Herbert, he turned his face away, covering his eyes with a shaking hand. “Bloody bastard left me on my own.”
“Oh, my poor darling,” Herbert murmured, tightening his arms around William.
Von Krolock knew that despite his sympathy for the younger vampire, Herbert could not truly comprehend all that William was suffering. In his long life, Herbert had lost so few people. He had been protected firstly by his father’s presence and secondly by his own growing strength.
As to his own experience, he remembered the bitterly exquisite agony of losing those he cherished, time and again, yet the poor youngster before them had lost so much more. And for one who lived by his heart as wholly as William, it was astounding that the young vampire had reached them at all.
“Just annoying is all,” William’s slender body - so much thinner than von Krolock recalled, now that he noticed - was taut as a wire. “Didn’t have anyone else to talk to about the soul-thing. Selfish bastard.”
“Understandable,” von Krolock’s voice remained soft, soothing. He slipped from his seat and knelt before the youngest of them, lifting his hand to brush his knuckles against William’s cheek. He could feel the icy dampness of tears there, tears William was trying so desperately to hide. “No pretence, William.”
“Not pretending.” His voice cracked again. “Am bloody annoyed.”
“You miss him.” William’s head shook in a jerky negative. “William, for all the years I have known you, you have never been able to hide what you feel from me.” His other hand overlaid William’s lightly. “I know what loss feels like.”
For several minutes, William was silent, face turned away.
“Lost Dru too,” he whispered finally. “Lost everyone I had. Even Darla.” He laughed shakily. “Got new mates, humans ones, good ones... hardly a one left now.”
Herbert’s mumbled curse of sickened horror was not ignored. One hand covering William’s, von Krolock’s other hand reassuringly reached out to touch his son. Such loss was horrifying to one who had lived as long without it as Herbert had.
“You remain.” Von Krolock’s words were directed at William. “Their lives will not be forgotten.”
“No, they won’t.” There was a note of hysteria in the young vampire’s voice, tear-glazed eyes suddenly staring wildly at von Krolock. “F’I had listened to your bloody letter, wouldn’t have been there and they’d all be fine! I just had to go and put my foot in it and now, my best mates are dead.”
The scent of Herbert’s distress and anxiety was palpable on the air. It was no small surprise when he pulled William closer, fangs grazing William’s pale throat, making the youngster shiver. Lapping at the scratches, he whispered fiercely, “You’re staying here with us, cheri. Safe.”
The burst of laughter was disbelieving. “Why would things change now?” William demanded. “Everything that’s happened in the last five years has been getting worse and worse. Why would that stop?”
“You believe we would allow anything to happen to you?” von Krolock murmured.
“Don’t care about what happens to me,” William’s voice was a dry whisper. “Worst and more have happened.”
“Then, do you think we shall let anything happen to us?” Herbert’s voice was fierce, laced with aggressive worry. His bite came sharply, deep and hard, making the young vampire gasp and arch against him. “You,” he all but growled, bloodied lips close to William’s ear, “Are staying here. No more talk of leaving.”
“But...”
“Father.” Herbert’s voice overlapped his firmly. “Explain to William.”
Von Krolock tried to mask a small smile, two fingertips lifting William’s chin. “I fear you are trapped, William,” he murmured. “If Herbert desires you to stay, it will be so.”
Blue eyes stared at him wildly. “The letter...” he mumbled.
“The letter gave you nothing more than a choice, William,” von Krolock’s voice was soft, but resolute. “Fate does not play gently nor mercifully. Had you not taken Drusilla to the Hellmouth, then she would have died, and I believe you would have shortly followed her.”
William’s pale features crumpled, his lower lip trembling. “Should have let that happen,” he whispered, blinking hard. “Would have been better.”
“But that would have gone against every fibre of your being,” von Krolock said, dragging his thumb along William’s jawline, blue eyes captured by dark ones. “You loved her, William. How could do anything but save her? Do you truly believe that then, as things were, you could have watched her die?”
What protest William might have voiced died on his lips.
Slowly, he shook his head.
“And now, you worry for us,” Herbert added with a soft kiss to William’s bleeding throat. “Silly darling. Very sweet and commendable, but if you think we will allow anything to happen in our home, then you really are quite idiotic.”
“Again, as much as I am loath to admit it twice in one evening, my son is correct,” von Krolock murmured fondly, idly stroking his son’s cheek. Herbert beamed proudly at him. “You are now our guest, thus you come within the mantle of our protection.”
“Indefinitely,” Herbert added. “It has been so quiet here.”
Uncertainly looking from one to the other, William seemed torn between relief and concern. “But what if things don’t get better?” he asked.
“Well, they can hardly get worse now, can they?” Herbert said, a touch impatiently.
“Regardless,” von Krolock’s voice was calmer than his son’s, as he rose on his knees before William. “You will be under our protection, for as long as you will accept it.” His pale hands cradled William’s chin. “Trust me, William.”
Blue eyes gazed up at him and then, slowly, shakily, the young vampire nodded. “I do,” he mumbled.
“Good boy.” Von Krolock drew his hand down the unmarred side of William’s neck, pushing aside the collar of the coat with gentle fingers. William licked his lips, pressing his eyes shut.
Lowering his head to brush his lips against the young vampire’s throat, he could feel William’s hand squeezing Herbert’s between their bodies as he pressed close. Closing his eyes, he could feel the nervous tension boiling in the boy, could feel Herbert’s quivering anticipation.
Unlike his son’s, his fangs broke William’s skin gently, slowly, the tide of William’s essence flooding his senses, potent, almost overwhelming. His hand squeezed William’s shoulder, the other cupping the opposite side of his jaw. He felt the flutter of a gasp against his cheek, felt the youngster’s hand reach out, clutching at him.
A second hand threaded into his hair. Herbert.
As he drew upon the youngster’s throat, marking him, claiming him, his hand moved blindly to stroke his son’s hair. Like his, Herbert’s lips were once more at William’s throat and, between them, the grieving vampire clung to them both.
Only when he felt the coolness of tears mingling with the blood did he withdraw his lips from the wound, moving his hand to tenderly stroke the back of William’s neck with his fingertips.
With a sound that was part-sigh and part-grumble, Herbert withdrew his lips too. He, however, dragged his tongue over the open wound. “You’re ours now,” he purred and kissed William’s earlobe.
His lashes fluttering briefly before his eyes opened, William’s cheeks were marked by the shimmering paths of his tears and he seemed unable to speak. His hand was still clinging to von Krolock’s shirt, and he exhaled a shivering breath.
“You should rest,” von Krolock said gently, brushing a kiss over the boy’s lips. He started to rise, but the hand against his chest tensed and he looked to William’s face once more. “Do you want us to stay?”
Nodding wordlessly, his eyes filled with gratitude, William was trembling.
Father and son shared a look. If Herbert intended to protest, it was never voiced.
“The bed is certainly big enough,” he said, slipping his hand back under William’s coat to stroke his stomach. As he nuzzled William’s throat, he started to tug at the coat. “But I refuse to sleep beside anyone wearing a dead cow.”
Von Krolock chuckled softly, still gently brushing his knuckles against William’s hollowed cheek. “Alas, I must agree,” he murmured, offering his other hand to the young vampire. There was barely an instant of hesitation before William’s thin hand accepted his and he was drawn to his feet.
Pressing his palms to the centre of William’s chest, von Krolock claimed the young vampire’s lips once more, gently, chastely. Slipping his hands beneath the leather coat, he spread it from William’s shoulders.
Sliding to the edge of the bed behind William, Herbert caught the collar of the coat, drawing it away as his father pushed it down William’s shoulders and upper arms. He peeled it away easily, dragging it down and casting it aside.
With it gone, he - too - rose and wrapped one arm around William’s waist, nuzzling the younger vampire’s throat and jaw. There could be no mistaking the shiver that had passed through the pale-haired vampire, nor could they miss the glance he cast towards the crumpled heap of leather in the corner.
“Come, darling, rest with us,” Herbert murmured, kissing his shoulder through the thin black shirt he was wearing. Von Krolock drew his fingertips along William’s jaw with a nod of agreement.
His lips tugging weakly, trying to form a smile that faded like a shadow in the sun, William nodded.
Though he usually despised using his abilities for such trivialities, von Krolock drew upon the natural magic about him, a gesture replacing the shabby, worn clothes of the youngster with loose nightwear.
Herbert glanced down at his own substitute clothing, then grinned, smoothing the pale, rich fabric against his chest.
“Poofter,” William’s mumble drew an even broader grin to Herbert’s face.
With one hand, he turned William’s face to him and kissed him warmly. “Proudly so,” he said. “Now, come...”
Lead to the edge of the bed, the rich covers pulled back, pillows exuberantly fluffed, William was practically swept up in Herbert’s arms and tipped unceremoniously onto the middle of the broad, soft mattress.
Reaching back to unbind his hair, letting it spill about his shoulders, Herbert shook his head, then scrambled onto the bed beside William, pulling the heavy blankets and sheets up to their waists.
“Your dignity overwhelms me, Herbert,” von Krolock murmured fondly. He was still standing on the opposite side of the bed, arms folded loosely over his chest.
“I credit my father for it,” Herbert countered mischievously, leaning up on one arm and easily pulling the unresisting William back against his chest, so he could continue to nuzzle his throat.
William tilted his head to brush his nose along Herbert’s jaw. “You’re a cheeky bugger, Herbie,” he said softly, then looked up at von Krolock, hesitantly pulling back the blankets before him, the quiet, almost desperate hope in his eyes heart-rending.
Without hesitation, von Krolock slipped into the bed, stroking his fingertips along William’s sharp cheekbone, then gently kissing him. “You are safe here, William,” he assured him, a gesture darkening the electric lights.
“Safe,” Herbert repeated softly, his arm wrapping snugly about William’s waist as he settled against him. Above William’s head, his other arm unfolded and his fingers stroked the silver spill of his father’s hair against the pillows.
“Yeah,” William’s eyes pressed closed as von Krolock kissed his brow once more, his arm rising of it’s own accord and drawing the Graf closer.
Draping his arm over both of the younger vampires, fascinated by how strangely comfortable and natural it seemed, von Krolock felt the quietly relieved and content sigh of the youngest of them against his throat.
Brushing a kiss across the top of William’s head, he smiled slightly. Though the poor child was not yet recovered, he was safe and he would be well, even if took an eternity to become so.
He suspected it would be a far shorter time than that, though, if Herbert had anything to say about it. If there was one trait that embodied his son, it was that Herbert was inexcusably stubborn.
And far too playful at inappropriate moments.
“Good night, Herbert,” he said with quiet authority.
Despite the darkness, he could feel the unapologetic grin, felt his son settle more appropriately. With a gesture, von Krolock banished dreams from them, drawing both of them closer and allowing sleep to join them.