(no subject)
TITLE: Divergence
RATING: R-ish.
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: With the new year, new problems arise.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of and In The Air and Makes Us Stronger and Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Spike/Herbert, Dawn/von Krolock etc.
WORDS: 13,260
NOTES: *twitches* It keeps getting bigger and bigger. And bigger.
__________________________________
In a place where night and day no longer mattered to them thanks to the wonders of modern technology, it came as no great surprise to Herbert that he woke at midday with sun filtering through the underdrapes.
What was something of a surprise was the rather warm body tucked between his and his darling William’s.
Recollection came rapidly of a pleasant evening of wine and extremely ridiculous films with even more ridiculous premises.
With late snow flurrying against the windows, his father’s lover had been tucked between them on the oversized bed, all three of them rather drunk and quite content to fall asleep where they were sprawled.
It transpired that the sprawling had gone on rather longer than expected.
Over the still-sleeping Dawn’s shoulder, Herbert could see William’s eyes drowsily opening and smiled. He saw the eyes focus, recognised the hesitancy of William’s own smile. It had been so tentative since their last visit to Vienna, since he had made his precious, fragile, thin boy feed.
Stretching his hand over Dawn’s waist, he could not help feeling offended and a little hurt when William hesitated before touching his fingers.
They were still lying there, Dawn’s quiet little snores breaking the silence, when Herbert became aware of his father’s presence a moment before the Graf emerged from nothing, gazing down at them.
“Your night went well?”
“Mm,” Herbert murmured, then - knowing William would never dare to ask such a thing, and knowing his father would only do something if nudged very deliberately and pointedly - he added, “I think William wishes to talk to you.”
The faint sound of protest was nothing to him or his father.
“Is that so?” A hand was laid on William’s shoulder and, unresisting, the youngest vampire allowed himself to be drawn upright, though he did not look at Herbert. “If you will watch over Dawn, then I shall indulge William’s desire.”
With a nod, Herbert smiled faintly. “Thank you, father,” he said, lowering his eyes to the sleeping girl as his father and his lover vanished from the room.
Only then did his small smile slowly begin to widen.
It was widely known that Herbert was seldom intentionally evil to anyone, unless they truly deserved it. It almost as commonly known that he would rather take Holy Orders than willingly touch a woman intimately.
But sometimes, fate granted you a hand so delightful that it was impossible to resist.
Against the sleeping girl’s hip, Herbert uncurled his hand, biting his lower lip, his eyes dancing. Barely the tips of his fingers slipped against the flesh between the baby T-shirt and the waistband of the trousers she was wearing, touching ridiculously warm skin with a soft caress.
When she did not immediately wake or lash out, manicured nails lifted the hem of the shirt, sliding beneath the fabric, feeling her ribs rise and fall beneath his palm.
Bending his fingers just so, he let his nails scratch along her ribs slowly, grinning as he felt her shudder under his hand. She sighed and he peered over her shoulder at her sleeping face, cautious.
When she shifted, rubbing her cheek against the forearm curled under her head, he lifted his hand slightly, but she moved no further, settling comfortably once more, and he let his fingers graze upwards.
Now this...
This was quite unfamiliar territory.
Experimentally, mirth giving way to something that wasn’t quite nervousness but wasn’t entirely comfortable either, he shaped the curve of her breast with one hand, then pulled his palm back as if burnt.
No. He was evil, but even he had some levels he would not stoop to.
On top of that, why would he want to touch them? His nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought as he let his hand wander down once more. Truly, the male physique, with its hard lines and smooth planes, was far more appealing.
His fingers swirled in circles across her belly, the tip of his index fingertip tickling her navel before trailing downwards. With a deft flick, the button of her trousers was open and the zip rapidly followed its stellar example.
The folds of the fabric parted, revealing incongruously innocent white panties which made him hastily stifle a snicker.
“You put your hand down there and I cut it off.” The sleepy mumble made him start. She yawned widely, then added, “With nail clippers.”
Resisting the urge to ask for detailed explanations of the mechanics of such a feat, Herbert stared at her. “How long have you been awake?” he demanded warily.
One eye opened. “Since you chickened out of touching my chest,” she said, one side of her mouth curling up. “D’you think your dad would be cranky if I told him you had tried it on with me?”
Herbert stared at her, mouth open.
Her eyes glinted. “Or would he laugh?” Squirming away from him, she smoothed her shirt down and refastened her trousers. “Next time you’re asleep, I’m totally gonna feel you up, just so you know.”
Shaking himself, Herbert sat up. “I do not believe you,” he said, a touch of petulance in his tone.
“Hey, you groped me,” Dawn grinned as she got to her feet.
“Vengeance!”
“Ha! For what?”
Scrambling to the edge of the bed, he waved a finger in front of her face. “You bit me!”
She snorted aloud, rolling her eyes. “Please! That was nothing!” She jabbed him in the middle of the chest. “You’ve done way worse things to me.”
“I have done no such thing!”
“Oh yeah?” Turning, she started off across his room, towards the door. “I can prove it!” Her voice rang back over her shoulder and he hastened to follow, hastily shaking off a sock that had somehow slipped half-off during the night.
“False proof!” he called, hopping on one foot to get rid of the other sock.
Spinning around, she threw a smirk at him. “Real proof is way more fun.” Then, when he lunged at her with a growl of mock-ire, she laughed, spun away and started to run through the halls towards her room.
He could have caught her and both of them knew it, but he was curious and she was grinning far too much. Not for the first time, he wondered how deadly and wild she would have been, had his father been able to turn her.
She was pulling something out from behind her desk when he stepped into the lower level of her chambers, and she propped it up against the wall. It was a gleaming white board and had a dozen lines of text written on it in marker pen.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Writing something, the pen squeaking, Dawn looked over her shoulder. “You’ve gone and earned two more black marks,” she said cheerfully. “You woke me up, which is bad, and then you groped me.”
Herbert frowned, approaching, hands behind his back. “And you write down things that irritate you?” he inquired. “Does father know about this? Or William?”
Dawn’s grin was almost invisible from the angle he was standing at, but he could tell it was there. “They don’t need to know about it,” she replied, capping the pen with a flourish. “I only put you on it.”
Indignation vied with curiosity as he peered over his shoulder, then he uttered an sound of annoyance. “I would not say that this is fair, cherie! You write down things you consider troublesome? For what purpose?”
Reaching up over her shoulder, Dawn patted his cheek. “So I can mark ‘em off when I get revenge,” she replied, then seemed to recall something. Licking her fingers, she smeared away something that looked remarkably like ‘Made fun of my two weeks of no-snuggles’.
“You think my insulting you gives you credence for vengeance?”
She shrugged, turning to grin up at him. “Why not?”
Herbert was torn between glowering at her and laughing at her sheer cheek. His lips pursing, he gazed at her for a moment, then reached out and snatched the pen. “If you are to do this, then I feel I should also,” he said.
“Oh, please! What have I done to you?”
Herbert made a face. “You burnt my lips.”
“You tried to eat me!”
“You knew I would!”
Dawn laughed aloud. “So I what? Provoked you?”
“Clearly!” Herbert exclaimed, shoving her out of the way and tilting the board up, scrubbing several of her comments away with his hand. “I feel that I have a good number of offences to avenge myself for.”
“Note to self,” Dawn said, folding her arms. “Get Herbert back for graffitying my white board.”
“And note to myself,” Herbert replied, writing row after row of neat words. “Avenge my honour for this travesty of having my sins labelled and named without ever being made aware of the heinous little witch’s game.”
“Get him back for calling me a witch.”
“Punish her for eavesdropping...”
Dawn sputtered indignantly. “It’s my room and you’re talking to yourself.”
“And for stating the obvious,” Herbert sighed over the squeak of the pen.
“Stating the obvious?” she squealed. “That doesn’t count!”
He looked at her with mild surprise. “You list my foibles that irritate you, cherie,” he said. “If you wish, I shall add shrill rhetorical questions too.” He clicked his tongue, though he was struggling to hide a smile “You are quite efficiently digging your own grave, so to speak.”
She stuck out her tongue at him and he laughed.
“You’re mean.”
“I am,” he said cheerfully. “And handsome and witty.”
“And you totally were gonna put your hand down my pants.”
The pen squealed across the board, across all the words he had so neatly written.
Giving her a pointed glare, he sniffed. “It would have been your privilege,” he said.
She sat on the edge of the desk and grinned at him. “If you hadn’t been chicken.”
With a further aloof sniff, he started re-writing his list, and this time, it was double the length.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In the afternoon-lit library, a fire flickered to life in the fireplace as von Krolock emerged from nothing, one hand resting on William's shoulder. His fingers uncurled and he released William gently.
He was unsurprised when the youngster did not turn to look up at him, though he observed that William's hands were tucked into his pockets, no longer wrapping defensively about his body.
"You have questions?"
William shrugged, wandering towards the fireplace. "Nothing really," he said, stopping on the hearth rug and staring down at the flames.
"It does not appear so." Von Krolock approached, halting less than half a dozen paces from him. "You have been troubled since your return from Vienna."
William inhaled, then exhaled briefly. "Just this soul crap," he muttered. "Nothing I can do about it. Just need to get used to it, I think."
The Graf folded his hands before him, watching William gravely. Though he could have looked deeper, he knew it was not necessary. Even voicing a question was no longer necessary. The youngster would not have complied with his request, had it not meant he was willing to speak.
William rocked on the balls of his feet, then looked over his shoulder. "Did Herbert tell you...?" he began, then hesitated. "Haven't drank from a human... not for years... and then, Herbert..."
"And you regret this?"
William nodded slowly, looking back at the fire. "He was an arse, but he..." He shook his head, brows drawing together. "Years ago, wouldn't have given thought about ripping his throat out, but now, I..." He turned and smiled weakly. "I've gone soft."
"It is not soft to feel compassion for mortals," von Krolock said quietly.
"Even when they're great big stupid bastards like that arse?" William said, frowning a little. "He would have brought his friends after us. Would have battered the crap out of us if we'd been human."
Von Krolock gazed at him. "You drank, yes. You were strengthened. This man did not die, and I doubt that he will attempt such an attack again. What cause have you for regretting such a thing?"
"Still hurt a human," William replied quietly. He laughed, but it was mirthless. "I'm a bit out of practise on that front."
Moving to his chair close to the fire, von Krolock sat with a sweep of his cloak, spreading the dark fabric over the broad arms of the chair. "And you feel that this man, of all men, deserved such a thing?"
William laughed again faintly. "Feeling sorry for the neo-nazi homophobes... never thought I'd see a day that would happen," he mumbled. He scuffed his foot along the carpet, looking down at his toes. "If anyone deserved to be eaten, it was that bloke, but I saw his face." His eyes darkened with emotion. "He looked so bloody scared."
"And so he should have," von Krolock said softly. "When punishment is bestowed, it is favourable. Herbert spoke of dissuading mortals from assaulting those like himself and he seemed to believe this would have proved an ideal lesson."
"Yeah..." William mumbled again. "Bet the bugger didn't think a single poofter could take him and his mates down and give him the love-bite from hell..." Blue eyes looked at the Graf, troubled. "I didn't like it... but I can't stop thinking about it either."
The Graf brushed a fingertip against his lip, watching the youngster. "As one who only hunts rarely, I understand," he said softly. "The lure, the insatiable desire for the fresh blood of mortals is a strong one."
"But I get human blood here!" William protested. "It should be enough. S'more than I had for years." He dropped heavily into the couch close to the Graf's seat. "Shouldn't want to feel the heartbeat against my tongue... taste the emotions..." His eyes flicked up to the Graf. "But I do." He pushed his hands through his hair. "And then, I remember the look on that bloke's face and I feel sick... and I shouldn't because he deserved it... and then I feel hungry..."
"William.” Gently interrupting the youngster's recriminations, von Krolock asked softly, "What if you could find a human that would permit you to drink?"
William snorted. "Yeah, right..." He made a face. "Seen the type. Stupid kids with a death-wish and daft image of what vampires are. Not a good thing."
The Graf studied him. "Sometimes," he agreed softly. "But what is the difference between the blood given secretly, stored and used as we will, and a willing mortal with trust enough to allow you to feed just enough?"
"Well, for one thing, the mortal'd have to be thick as a brick to trust you," William said with a disbelieving snort. "What kind of human thinks a vampire'll just stop before doing them in?"
The Graf smiled slightly. "Dawn," he replied quietly.
Blue eyes looked up at him, wary. "She does?"
"She is mine and marked, William," von Krolock said. "Did you truly doubt it?"
"Should know better than that by now," William admitted faintly. "But... but what kind of human wants to get snacked on? Most of them are so bloody dense you wouldn't want to bite them in case it was contagious."
"A rare breed indeed," the Graf replied with a small, enigmatic smile. He rose and approached the couch where William sat, gazing down at him. "Tasting the blood of a mortal need not lead to death and misery, William."
"Usually goes that way anyway," William muttered, looking down and trembling as the Graf laid a hand on his head.
"Quite often, yes."
It was undeniable.
Von Krolock knew he would decorate all the deaths by his hand with flowery prose and denial. Hunger had assailed him, and few of those he had tasted had survived, but occasionally, rarely, they lived and continued to lives that were almost normal.
William looked up at him. "And what if I don't think I could stop once I started?" he asked in a whisper.
Sinking to sit beside the young vampire, von Krolock lifted a hand to touch his pale cheek, felt William tremble again. "That, William, is when you trust your soul to guide you," he said softly. "You need not kill to feed, nor be refused fresh blood, but it is all a matter of your own self-control."
William laughed weakly. "That was what I was afraid of," he mumbled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I feel like I look like a poofter.”
Herbert smiled at the road ahead, eyes gleaming. “Where we are going, cheri, that will hardly matter.”
“We better not be going to the YMCA...”
Chuckling softly, the elder vampire pressed the accelerator flat. “Oh, no, darling,” he replied. “We’re going somewhere so much more charming.”
Only hours earlier, they had departed from the local airfield, several hours from the castle by car. They had arrived in Austria at a private airstrip just as the sun vanished over the horizon, emerging from his private jet by twilight.
It never failed to amuse him that centuries of accumulated interest on a small amount of pocket money from his childhood could buy so much in this age.
They had briefly stopped at one of his apartments scattered on the outskirts of Vienna, where a blushing girl had ushered them in and shown them the clothes that had been laid out, ready for them.
William had been terribly indignant about the new wardrobe, but with some eloquent persuasion from Herbert, he had donned the midnight blue shirt, grumbling every inch of the way as Herbert had laced it up. Then, he had seen the trousers and further persuasion had been required.
The memory made Herbert smile a little more.
His little darling certainly had stamina.
A sideways glance took in William’s profile, the excitable gleam in his eyes causing Herbert’s hand to slip from the wheel to caress his lover’s thigh. With his sandy hair in delightful curls and his expression so eager, he was like the William who had first set foot in his father’s castle so many years ago.
Swinging sharply into a side-street, sending some straggling humans scattering, they roared onwards into what was generally classed as a somewhat less savoury area, but to Herbert, it held such delightful memories that present rumours meant nothing.
Ahead of them, outside a nondescript three-storey building, a small queue seemed to have formed and he felt his lips curling up. So, they still had those who strove to enter and were denied? Wonderful.
Drawing up in front of the door, he saw the looks on the faces of the doormen. What had been violent indignation shifted sharply to startled delight as he let his window slide down.
“Herr Herbert!”
With a suggestion of a soft smile, he inclined his head. “May I leave my car here, my darlings?” he murmured to the leather-clad brutes, who were gazing at him raptly. “Or would I come back to find it missing?”
“You are welcome to park here, Sir!” the larger of the two was quick to say. What was his name again? Josef? Ah, something along that vein, yet it mattered not.
With a broader smile, Herbert opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement, aware of the whisper of curiosity and wonder that rippled through the veritable army of young and beautiful creatures.
As was only fitting in a place such as this, he was clad all in black for tradition’s sake, but hidden in the dark silks and velvets, there was an underlay of deep blood-red, subtle but for those who were watching him intently.
And he had every intention that everyone would notice it.
His hair was loose, like gold, spread across the velvet of his cloak artfully.
Glancing over his shoulder, his lips curled wickedly as William emerged from the other side of the car. He heard a few exclamations among the crowd, knew that his darling was receiving a generous share of attention.
“Come, cheri,” he called over his shoulder, unable to stop himself smiling at the baffled look on William’s pretty face. Stepping onto the black carpet, he waited for William to join him, then strode through the doors that the two doormen were kindly holding open, his cloak flaring about him.
Within, the building seemed vaster than it should have been from the outside, with a towering ceiling, where the middle of two levels had been ripped out to create and huge, open-plan area. From the top storey, one could look down on the dance-floor in the basement.
The lighting was excessive tonight, too many colours flaring along the gantries, and he made a note to pass such observations on to Fredericka. The music, however, was to the usual standard and as he stepped down onto the upper landing of the staircase, he smiled.
“You brought me to a Goth club?”
With a chuckle, he turned and looked back at William, who was staring around in disbelief. “Not just any Goth club, my darling,” he replied, a purr creeping into his tone. “My Goth club.”
With a toss of his head, gesturing for William to follow, he started down the broad staircase, familiar faces turning, smiling. Those who knew him moved towards him and he bestowed smiles and kisses on those he remembered well.
“Herbert!” Like a vision in black and scarlet, Fredericka seemed to appear from nowhere to clasp his hands and dip into a low curtsey. Her hair was deep purple now, in short, clinging curls, her make-up even more intricate.
“Fridi, darling!”
Drawn back upright, she beamed at him, the naughty gap between her front teeth even more prominent thanks to the deep shade of her lipstick. “I thought you had forgotten all about us.”
“You live in foolish hope, my darling,” he laughed, leaning forward to kiss her warm cheek. He could feel the press of others gathering close, watching, delighting, mortal and undead mingling in this sanctuary for both their kinds.
Fredericka pouted, but it faded into a broad smile as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She was a rare one, his Fridi. In his absence, she ran this little pleasure of his, letting him know when things were going well or badly, ensuring that all was as it should be.
“You will be visiting more often, then?” she inquired, as he turned his head to accept a welcoming kiss from one of her favoured lovers, a striking vampire with ice-blue eyes and hair as black as coal.
“Oh, I may...” Herbert’s eyes danced and he looked around. Lifting his hand, he caressed the cheek of another, this one a mortal youth whom he had encountered on his last visit. “Still here, pretty one?”
“Yes, sir.” The teenager blushed beneath his white make-up and lowered his eyes.
“And many more times hereafter, I hope,” Herbert purred, tilting the boy’s chin up and kissing his lips. He felt the youth quiver and drew back with a wicked little smile, almost laughing aloud as the boy blushed even more deeply. “Mm?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“No less wicked for your absence,” Fredericka sighed lamentably, though he could hear the amusement in her tone. “So, what has kept you from us, mein Herr?”
Lifting his right hand over his shoulder, Herbert smiled and called out, “William?”
He did not need to turn to feel William approach through those swarming around him nor did he look away from Fredericka’s face as he felt William’s left hand laid in his. He saw Fridi’s eyes dart sideways, saw her brows rise in clear surprise.
Drawing William forward, brushing a kiss over the younger vampire’s knuckles, he could not quell the smile. “William, I present to you Fredericka, my charming co-manager of this little establishment. Fridi, this is William.”
Her eyes flicked from his face to Herbert and back again. “Good evening, Herr William,” she said with a modest dip of her head. “You are most welcome.”
“Evening.” William was watching her with bewilderment. While they had lapsed into French, it was a sad truth that Fridi’s accent was rather poor and William looked rather confused by it as well as the circumstances.
Nipping on the tip of William’s finger, Herbert smiled. “We shall be requiring my booth, cheri,” he said, his eyes returning to Fredericka. “I hope you have not let it get damaged in my absence.”
A mock-virtuous smile crossed her face. “Oh, I only let the most select of guests frequent it,” she replied, turning and shooing the gathered throng away. Bustling down the staircase, the force of her scarlet-taloned fists clearing a path if the force of her charming personality failed.
Lacing his fingers through William’s, Herbert lead him onwards. On the dance-floor, a path opened before them, punctuated by touches and exclamations from old friends and acquaintances.
Admiring glances ran over him and on to William, who was staring round at the pale faces and bright eyes, but he seemed oblivious to the admiration, lost in confusion about why they were in such a place. It was quite adorable really.
Ahead of them, he heard Fridi raising her voice, saw a pair chased from the choice booth that had always been and always would be his. With a low, semi-circular couch that overlooked the dance-floor, it granted the best view of the lower level of the club and the guests.
“Only the most select, hmm?” he inquired, ascending the small flight of stairs.
Fridi made a face at him, then looked beyond him at William, who was warily watching a vampire and human pair sharing a kiss. “Am I permitted to ask questions, mein Herr?” she inquired in an undertone.
“Perhaps later,” Herbert demurred with a gently chastising smile, bending to kiss the tip of her nose. “Now, be off, cheri. And be sure that the correct people are aware of my presence, hmm?”
He knew she understood and she smiled, bustling off with a rustle of lace and the squeak of leather.
“Interesting bird,” William mumbled, still watching the pair several feet away.
“She is indeed,” Herbert replied, tugging on his hand. “Come, darling.”
Pushed onto the couch, William looked up at him. “What is this place, then?”
“Sanctuary, cheri,” Herbert murmured with a smile. “Where we can all be ourselves without fear of judgement or assault.” He lifted William’s hand to his lips again, kissing the knuckles softly. “My little playground.”
“You weren’t kidding?”
Herbert laughed. “Cheri, everyone needs a hobby,” he said with a smile. “I am only thankful I have Fridi to run things when I am occupied with other matters.” He saw the confusion on William’s face. “You, cheri.”
“I’m ‘other matters’?” William frowned. “That’s what you told her?”
“Mm,” Herbert gazed at him with a lazy smile. “Significant other matters...”
A light seemed to go on in William’s head, his eyes going wide and dropping to the ring on his left hand. “You bloody poof...”
“And you never fail to sound surprised,” Herbert laughed as he received an armful of vampire and then a dozen kisses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It wasn’t a bad place, all things considered.
Yeah, it was a Goth club and he’d always found them a bit weird anyway, but with Herbert beside him, murmuring lurid tales of the humans and vampires on the dance floor, he found he didn’t mind it all that much.
What was getting on his tits a bit was the constant flow of people wandering over and sitting down on the opposite side of the low table, looking hopefully at Herbert, as if he might invite them to stay.
There had been all sorts, vampires, humans, boys, girls, and in one case, a red-haired woman who looked like she should have been on a stage, belting out soprano arias and wearing a horned helmet and a spiky breastplate.
Not that Herbert seemed to notice them. Didn’t even give them so much as a glance, his body and face turned in towards Spike’s own, one arm draped along the back of the couch and toying with Spike’s hair in its loose ponytail.
When the fifteenth had sat down and was watching the uninterested Herbert’s profile with big, puppy-dog eyes, Spike turned a glare and a flash of fang on them that sent them scurrying away hastily.
“That wasn’t very nice, cheri,” Herbert murmured, his eyes glinting.
“Bugger was annoying me,” Spike grumbled, though his eyes closed as Herbert’s fingertips brushed along the curve of his jaw. “What’s the deal, eh?” He exhaled and looked back at Herbert.” You got a fan club or something here?”
Herbert laughed, twisting a curl of his hair around his finger. “I’m afraid it is one of those charming rumours,” he murmured. “If I pay them the least attention, I am giving them leave to attend on me all evening.”
“And you ogling me means...?”
Herbert’s lips twitched. “I have not yet seen someone worth looking away for.”
“Yet?”
Leaning closer, Herbert kissed him softly. “Ouais, cheri.” The tip of Herbert’s nose brushed his. “I do have one I would like you to meet.”
“And he’s the ‘yet’, eh?”
“Mm-hm.” Herbert leaned close and kissed his throat, making him shiver pleasantly.
“And til he shows up...?”
“I accost you terribly and ensure everyone notices,” Herbert purred, cupping his jaw and nipping his throat tenderly. “And yes, cheri, you need not observe it. I am aware I am a ‘sodding great poof’, thank you.”
And he wasn’t joking either.
Gradually, Spike became aware that he’d somehow gone from practically vertical to definitely horizontal without even noticing, because the pleasant diversion of lips, teeth, tongue and wandering hands.
Only reason he had become aware of it was because Herbert had turned his face away from his throat. Squinting up, Spike saw someone standing close to the table. Not sitting like the other twits did.
Whoever he was, he was mortal, his heartbeat steady, calm. Slight in height and slim in build, he could barely have been out of his teens.
Clad in a loose white shirt and black trousers, with jet-black hair that gleamed by the flickering lights and hung to his narrow hips. His face was shadowed from behind, though the parts that weren’t were hidden behind the curtain of his hair.
The pleasant weight of Herbert’s body against his drew up and away and he almost complained until the boy turned his head. The light hit him just right, the left side of his face illuminated suddenly, all perfect cheekbone, dark, gleaming eye and lips that looked almost as wicked as Alfred’s did.
“Sodding hell...”
Herbert’s hand dragged along Spike’s thigh, then pulled away as he turned fully to face the boy who was apparently ‘yet’. Without so much as a smile, the boy stepped closer, straddling Herbert’s thighs and placing his hands on Herbert’s shoulders.
“Matthias,” Herbert murmured with a smile, his own hands coming to rest on the boy’s slim hips, drawing him down until the boy’s body was pulled flush against his and their lips were close to meeting.
Leaning on one elbow, Spike found he was staring at them mutely, as Herbert’s lips ghosted against the boy’s, one hand rising and drawing back the dark hair which had draped so enigmatically over the right side of the boy’s pretty face.
The boy trembled and Spike could imagine his eyes pressing closed as that fingertip dragged so lightly against his skin.
Then he saw it.
As perfect as the left side of the boy’s face was, the edge of the right was distorted as if crafted in wax and melted, leaving his right eye twisted downwards. Pale, the flesh stretched and taut from temple to jawline, even down onto his white throat.
He swore, he knew it, saw the boy jerk as if his words had been a slap, saw the flash of Herbert’s eyes, the unspoken warning.
With a wordless whisper, Herbert tilted the boy’s head and brushed kisses across the scar tissue. Spike’s tongue pressed against his lower lip as he watched. The boy’s hands tensed, knuckles going white against Herbert’s dark shoulders.
Pushing himself upright, unable to look away, Spike hesitated, then reached out and touched the long, dark hair that was trailing over Herbert’s hand. Brushed from a left-side parting, it cascaded heavily against his skin, warmed by the boy’s body.
He could see the dark iris shifting beneath the knotted eyelid, watching him warily but without protest as Herbert’s lips drew away from his skin. Slipping his fingers from the boy’s hair, Herbert tilted that face towards Spike’s, murmuring something in the boy’s perfect left ear before kissing his throat lightly
Dark eyes gazed at Spike, and Spike found himself staring again. Like sunbursts around the pupil, the boy’s eyes were flecked with amber across the dark iris. He let his fingertips move from dark hair to pale skin, so warm, then felt the boy quiver as he leaned closer.
Even as he touched the boy’s lips with his own, he felt Herbert’s fingers slide under his own hair, drawing him closer, closing the gap between him and the young mortal, instigating the first kiss.
Against his lips, the boy opened that perfect mouth in a quiet little gasp that became a faint moan as Spike’s hand cradled his throat, his tongue delving into the boy’s mouth, tasting this little mortal.
A hand touched him, tentative, then clutched at him as the boy’s mouth suddenly pressed against his, a stifled whine catching between their lips.
The scent of blood made him pull back, staring at the child-like face before him, then towards the boy’s throat, where Herbert was slowly, delicately lapping blood from a fresh bite.
“Herbert...”
Grey eyes flicked to him and Herbert smiled.
“Welcome to my playground, cheri,” he whispered, his hand drawing from Spike’s throat. Still watching Spike, the boy rose, moving from Herbert’s lap and kneeling on the floor close to Spike’s feet. “Taste, William.”
Looking from the boy to Herbert, who was drawing curtains closed about the booth, Spike shook his head. “Not again...”
Herbert sighed. “Cheri,” he said with a long-suffering expression on his face. “You need not drain him, but Matthias...” He leaned closer and ran his hand the length of the boy’s back. “He desires it.”
Silently, the boy rose on his knees, tilting his head, light and shadow playing across his face as his hair swept against Spike’s thigh. His eyes had fallen closed and his lips were parted, the blood on his throat dark against his marble-white skin and the pale fabric of his shirt.
Spike wanted to back off, leave the pretty, wretched boy to Herbert, to get away from the scent of the boy’s blood, still trickling so temptingly into the hollow of his collarbone, pooling there.
“William,” Herbert slipped along the couch, closer, a hand touching Spike’s thigh softly. “Indulge. What is the harm when it is his choice? When it is his desire?” A fingertip brushed his lips and he shivered at the taste of blood freshly gathered from the boy’s skin. “Taste him, cheri.”
A saint wouldn’t have been able to resist that.
Steered forward as the boy rose, slender hands pressed against his pale chest, Spike felt his demon come to the fore. Grasping the boy by the shoulders, he leaned closer, felt the contented breath as the boy sighed.
When his fangs broke the warm flesh, the heat seemed so unbearably delicious that his mind reeled, the spice of the boy’s essence flooding senses that had been starved of living blood for so long now.
Fingers biting into the boy’s narrow shoulders, he felt a hand clutch at his shirt, felt the flutter of the heartbeat picking up speed for a moment, heard a sound that was somewhere between sigh and moan.
On the edge of his awareness, he felt Herbert move closer, then shivered when cool lips brushed his throat and he felt his lover’s bite, his own mouth pulling from the boy’s bleeding throat to gasp aloud.
“Enough, hmm?” Herbert whispered against his skin.
Unable to do anything more than nod weakly, Spike leaned sideways against Herbert’s chest. He felt his lover lick a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth delicately, then watched with dazed fascination as Herbert leaned down and covered the bite on the boy’s throat with his own lips, tasting him afresh.
Only when Herbert drew back did the boy lower his head, letting his hair fall back over his face, his hands dropping to rest in his lap.
“Here, little one.” Herbert smoothed the couch by his side and, like an obedient pet, the youth got to his feet. Only when he managed to stand did Spike notice just how much paler he looked and the uncertain wobble in his stance.
“Herbie...”
Grey eyes slanted a reprimanding look at him. “He will be fine, cheri,” he murmured into a kiss against Spike’s lips. He smiled again. “And now, don’t you feel better for the warmth of some proper blood?”
While he couldn’t deny he felt more energised than he had in months, there was something about the boy that was unsettling him. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the kid was behaving or the way Herbert was treating him, but something was off.
Curling like a sleeping puppy on the couch, the boy was either falling into sleep or unconscious or treading the line between those states. His dark head was lowered and gently pillowed on Herbert’s thigh, and Spike watched as Herbert tenderly smoothed a swathe of hair over the boy’s damaged face.
“What’s his story?” he asked quietly.
“A perfect example of the inherent evil of humanity,” Herbert replied, lifting his eyes to Spike. “He has been in my charge for almost a decade now.” Shocked, Spike looked up at Herbert, found the grey eyes watching him with a quiet sobriety and the faintest suggestion of a smile. “Surprised?”
Unable to deny it, Spike nodded. “Not like you to keep rugrats around.”
“A curiosity,” Herbert murmured, looking back down at the boy. “It is rare to find a child who is not afraid when bitten, even one who has been living on the streets. I would have killed him that night, had he not been so accepting, so… grateful for it.”
“Grateful?”
“Mm.” There was a strange tenderness in his eyes, as he stroked the boy’s hair. “I was hungering for a child’s blood and he had the misfortune of crossing my path, yet when I bit him, he did not fight.” There was a faint, wistful smile on Herbert’s lips. “I remember he clung to me, but he did not cry out. He was ready for death.”
“And yet, here he is…”
Herbert lifted a shoulder mildly. “You know how curious I am about unusual things, cheri,” he replied. “Never had I found one so young in body, but so utterly drained and resigned in spirit. I placed him in Fridi’s charge, visited often, and now, this is his home.”
“Living in a Goth club, sponsored by a vampire and serving as a snack? I’d guess that’s better than a rough life on the streets.”
Herbert shook his head slowly. “Rough life when he had a home, cheri,” he replied softly. “The scars he tries so resolutely to hide serve as bitter memorial and testament to why he finds himself safe here.”
Spike frowned. “And you’re just going to keep him here?” he said dubiously. Yeah, he had heard of such things, but from Herbert, it was a bit baffling. “Like a human pet and part-time dinner treat?”
Pale fingers threaded through the dense black silk of the boy’s hair. “Until he is old enough,” Herbert murmured.
Staring at his lover uncertainly, Spike’s brows dragged together. If he didn’t plan on killing the boy any time soon, then that only meant he meant one thing. And that was one hell of a thing. He’d only done it once, knowingly, himself and he remembered what a mess that had turned out to be.
Grey eyes slid up to blue, clearly recognizing the shock etched on Spike’s face. “You believed I was acting the part of an altruistic Samaritan by taking care of him for this long, cheri? No, no… my motives, as always, are selfish.”
“But you don’t have… you haven’t…”
Herbert’s lips turned up at the corners. “I have, William,” he murmured. “Rarely, I admit, because it really is quite ridiculous how much training one must provide, and father grew quite frustrated as he tended to receive my silly darlings when they got out of hand.” He laughed lightly. “Quite a few decades ago, I was firmly told I was only permitted to turn people when father wasn’t too busy, lest I get bored again.”
“But… why this one? Scarred-up little brat’s pretty enough, but…”
“Because he’s mine, William,” Herbert replied softly. He looked down at the boy. “I could let him go, unleash him on the world, a child outgrowing a world of unnatural things, but it would not work.”
“It might...” Spike offered uncertainly. “Seems like an all right kid...”
“He would kill himself.”
Blue eyes blinked. “You what?”
Herbert looked at him. “I told you he was mine,” he said. “He thinks he is, believes he is. It is all he has known for ten years. When I am not here, Fridi says he never emerges from his room. It is all he wants; to be mine.”
“So, you’ll turn a broken kid from a broken home?” Despite himself, he couldn’t help the indignation in his voice. Snapping at Herbert usually resulted in a verbal bashing, but this time, he didn’t care. “Just cos you almost ate him and turned him into house-broken finger-food?”
Herbert gazed at him. “Would you prefer that I killed him outright?” he asked softly, his fingertips untangling the boy’s hair. “That I break his neck, slaughter him like a dog grown too old for the hunt? Would that be any more merciful?”
Looking down at the boy, Spike exhaled. “No... s’pose not...” he admitted, knowing what the ‘normal’ world would make of a boy raised by demons and used as a feeding object. “Still don’t like it, though.”
Herbert nodded. “I understand,” he murmured, tracing a fingertip down Spike’s cheek lightly. He nodded towards the drapes. “Do you wish to go and explore, cheri, while Matthias is at rest?”
“You’re staying put?”
A kiss was touched to his lips before he started to rise, leaning on one knee on the couch. “Only until I am sure he is resting peacefully, cheri,” Herbert said softly. “I will find you.”
“S’a big place.”
The intense look on Herbert’s face made him feel like he was on a freefall ride. “I will always find you, William,” he whispered, then kissed him again softly, leaving him to stagger - reeling - from the booth.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unpinning his cloak at his throat, Herbert let the fabric slip from his shoulders as he watched his William move out, alone and thrust unwittingly into the spotlight, his calf-length coat swirling around his legs with every step.
There were few among the select guests who did not know who Herbert was, and those who didn’t would probably have heard rumours. The fact that he had arrived and openly displayed William as his would have raised more than a few eyebrows among both living and undead.
With the drapes drawn back allowing him perfect placement for viewing whatever happened, he smiled and ran his fingers through Matthias’ hair as William descended the low staircase onto the dance floor, looking around.
He could see William’s gaze running over those around him, taking in all, humans and vampires, males and females, his expression showing nothing, the gleam in his eyes almost predatorial.
Of course, Herbert almost sighed lamentably, he had gone against his William’s morals here. Tut tut. How very wicked of him to make him drink from a pretty young mortal and convince him of the plausible necessity of eventually turning him.
Really, it was terrible.
It also had absolutely nothing to do with stirring William’s blood, instigating that delightful fire-flecked temper. Nothing at all. Especially nothing to do with the knowledge that old allies of Angelus were probably definitely present.
His lips twitched slightly as he watched the way William moved through the crowd, light glancing off the sandy waves of his hair, eyes glittering, lips drawing back from his teeth as he watched.
When a young woman was bold enough to try her fortune, William’s beautiful mouth moved into a smile and he canted his head politely, stepping around her and moving on, weaving through the dancers with a grace he seemed to think he did not possess.
By Herbert’s side, Matthias shifted, curling up more tightly on himself and drawing a brief glance. With a small, fond smile, Herbert drew his cloak from behind him and draped it over the boy loosely, smoothing his hair softly.
And then, he heard the shattering of glass.
Ah.
Turning, he looked back to the floor, where a circle was opening about his William, who was dusting some broken glass from his sleeve and looking all too quietly pleased with himself.
Somewhere above them on the second level, the DJ was silenced, most likely thanks to Fridi’s impeccable timing.
Blue eyes flicked upwards, then particularly did not look at Herbert.
“Nice to see a familiar face,” William murmured in casual French, his hands sunk in the pockets of his trousers, deliberately drawing his coat back from narrow hips. He was facing a taller, larger vampire clad in the most cliche of Goth attire.
It was clear the silly fool had no reflection, for his attempt at eyeliner was abysmal.
“Familiar, yes,” the vampire snarled. “Nice, no. I have been hearing rumours of you, Spike.”
Hmm. Apparently, William’s rough little pseudonym was worthy of some attention in itself, judging by the ripple of whispers that rushed about the hall.
William licked a canine, regarding the vampire calmly. “Heard some interesting things about you and all, Leon,” he said, wandering in a not-quite-casual circle around the large vampire, who turned to watch him. “Something about sticking with babies, because they’re the only things slow enough for you to catch.”
Leon’s eyes flashed angry gold and Herbert felt a smile trip across his lips. Ah, another of the lesser bloodlines. It was a pity, really, because so many of them were so pretty until their fangs were bared.
“At least I can still kill,” Leon growled, low and dangerous, but Herbert noticed that the large brute was circling William with a touch of wariness. Perhaps, it was the quiet smile on William’s face that was unsettling him so. “Heard you were broken in, Slayer’s pet.”
Stopping dead, William looked sharply at him, smile still on his lips, but eyes like ice. “That what you heard, eh?” he murmured, softly, deadly.
“Yes. Soft. Slayer-whipped. Fighting for her.”
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, William smiled in a way that was far from pleasant, dragging his tongue along his lower lip, then along his teeth. “Hearing all kinds of funny things, aren’t you?”
Abruptly, Leon was sent hurtling backwards by a savage roundhouse kick, tripping over his own booted feet and falling back against one of the staircases framing the dance floor.
Straightening up, William smoothed the lapels of his coat, taking a few casual steps towards the snarling Leon. “Shouldn’t tell stories,” he said. “Don’t know just who you might piss off.”
Scrambling upright, a notable space spreading around him, Leon threw off his coat and stalked forwards, fangs bared. “You’re a disgrace to vampires everywhere, Spike,” he growled. “Fighting for the good guys? It’s disgusting.”
William laughed outright. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied, turning his back on the raging Leon and meandering across the dance floor. “At least I look good doing it.”
With a shout of anger, Leon charged at him and without looking around, William side-stepped and stuck out one foot. Hooking Leon’s ankle, he jerked the larger vampire’s leg out from beneath him, bringing him crashing down on the floor.
With an easy kick, he flipped Leon onto his back, bringing his own boot down on the vampire’s throat. “And, despite popular misconception,” he added lightly. “I’m so much smarter than you, you stupid arse.”
Clearly not having learned his lesson, the large brute grabbed William’s ankle, tossing him back a step and leaping back onto his feet with an impressive growl, his body tensing into a fighting stance.
Sighing, William gave him an impatient look. “You really are dense, aren’t you?”
Still, he turned away again and walked towards the bar, ignoring Leon entirely. The crowd opened up in front of him, pale faces agog with fascination, curiosity and, Herbert was delighted to notice, no small amount of lust.
In the middle of the dance floor, Leon stared after him, confusion and ire vying for place on his face. “Get back here, Slayer-lover!”
If William had intended to ignore him further, that was the point where things changed.
Even from his seat on the far side of the hall, Herbert could see the subtle tensing of his William’s shoulders. His hands spread on the bar and for a moment, he was totally still, then he slowly turned.
His eyes flashed gold.
“Told you not to tell stories, Leon,” he said softly, though there was a tense energy in his steps as he almost hopped down the staircase, upper lip drawing back from his teeth, his arms loose by his sides.
“So, it’s true? You and the Slayer? You are sick, man! Sick!”
William didn’t reply, smiling like a demon, and striding towards him. Around him, his coat was flaring, his hair breaking loose from its confines. It would have taken a deeply stupid vampire not to see the fire in him and Leon started to back away.
Too late, though.
He started to turn, to run, but William was faster.
With a swift dozen steps, a leap and a kick, he brought Leon to his knees, one arm around the vampire’s neck from behind in a savage headlock. Lowering his head, he whispered something to Leon and Herbert saw blank terror on Leon’s face a moment before he dissolved into dust.
Remaining half-stooped, shaking the dust from his sleeve, William’s low growl rippled around the deathly-silent hall.
Between the still figures, one was moving. Herbert saw the vivid blaze of Fridi’s hair as she emerged from the crowd, approaching William with more bravery than a mortal should be permitted to have.
“Herr William...”
Whirling with a snarl, William caught her by the shoulders, jerking her closer, wrenching her head to one side.
“William.”
His voice like oil on troubled waters, Herbert saw William hesitate. He did not release Fridi, however, staring down at her white face and wide, dazed eyes. The first trace of blood was visible on her throat, a mere scratch.
With the thunder of Fridi’s heartbeat resounding in his ears, Herbert descended from his booth to the scene playing out less than half a dozen paces away. “Clientele, you have leave to touch, cheri,” he said softly. “But I would prefer it if the management went unharmed.”
Alas, that sometimes oil on troubled waters still burned.
A low growl ripped from William’s throat as Fridi was thrown aside and, all at once, Herbert was slammed up against one of the columns that flanked the dance floor, his lover’s eyes blazing fiery gold at him.
“You set me up, you son of a bitch,” he hissed, a hand clenched in Herbert’s shirt.
Several of the bouncers moved forward, but a gesture from his hand shooed them back and Herbert grinned. “I did.”
William growled, low, savage and furious, and Herbert flinched in pain as a fist twisted into his hair, jerking his head to one side. He felt the shirt rip and pressed his eyes shut with a moan as William bit him, hard and vicious.
Hands clutching wildly, desperately, at his lover, pulling him close. He felt the whine rise in his throat, his hips shifting against William, but still, William was drawing on him, taking enough to leave him reeling.
When he pulled back, he released Herbert and, to his own great surprise, Herbert slid to the floor, panting, staring up at William who had never seemed quite so delightful as he did at this moment.
Shaking his head, eyes blurring to blue, hair in disarray, William glared down at him, his voice little more than a snarl. “Don’t do it again.”
Touching his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, Herbert nodded, his mouth curling up at the sides. He lifted his hand to touch his bleeding throat, then extended it to William. His beautiful darling hesitated but a moment, then caught him, pulling him upright and into his arms.
“Never again, cheri,” he whispered, draped against William’s chest.
The ferocity in those blue eyes softened. “Right,” William said, arms tightening around his waist, holding him safely and secure. There was a hesitant half-smile. “I think you might need a seat...”
“Fridi,” Herbert whispered, feeling all too pleasantly dazed. “Follow Fridi.”
Vaguely, he heard William calling out to her as his head dropped to rest on William’s shoulder. He could feel fingers stroking his hair, the trickle of blood on his throat, and could not recall once feeling more satisfied about being bitten in public.
____________________________
Part Two
RATING: R-ish.
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: With the new year, new problems arise.
SERIES: Part of Carpe Noctem series.
In order: As Aught of Mortal Birth, Per Ipsum, et cum Ipso, et in Ipso, Til The Moon Is Abed, Unwritten Words, What Remains, The Gentler Sex, Visitation, After the Storm, In The Name Of and In The Air and Makes Us Stronger and Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Spike/Herbert, Dawn/von Krolock etc.
WORDS: 13,260
NOTES: *twitches* It keeps getting bigger and bigger. And bigger.
__________________________________
In a place where night and day no longer mattered to them thanks to the wonders of modern technology, it came as no great surprise to Herbert that he woke at midday with sun filtering through the underdrapes.
What was something of a surprise was the rather warm body tucked between his and his darling William’s.
Recollection came rapidly of a pleasant evening of wine and extremely ridiculous films with even more ridiculous premises.
With late snow flurrying against the windows, his father’s lover had been tucked between them on the oversized bed, all three of them rather drunk and quite content to fall asleep where they were sprawled.
It transpired that the sprawling had gone on rather longer than expected.
Over the still-sleeping Dawn’s shoulder, Herbert could see William’s eyes drowsily opening and smiled. He saw the eyes focus, recognised the hesitancy of William’s own smile. It had been so tentative since their last visit to Vienna, since he had made his precious, fragile, thin boy feed.
Stretching his hand over Dawn’s waist, he could not help feeling offended and a little hurt when William hesitated before touching his fingers.
They were still lying there, Dawn’s quiet little snores breaking the silence, when Herbert became aware of his father’s presence a moment before the Graf emerged from nothing, gazing down at them.
“Your night went well?”
“Mm,” Herbert murmured, then - knowing William would never dare to ask such a thing, and knowing his father would only do something if nudged very deliberately and pointedly - he added, “I think William wishes to talk to you.”
The faint sound of protest was nothing to him or his father.
“Is that so?” A hand was laid on William’s shoulder and, unresisting, the youngest vampire allowed himself to be drawn upright, though he did not look at Herbert. “If you will watch over Dawn, then I shall indulge William’s desire.”
With a nod, Herbert smiled faintly. “Thank you, father,” he said, lowering his eyes to the sleeping girl as his father and his lover vanished from the room.
Only then did his small smile slowly begin to widen.
It was widely known that Herbert was seldom intentionally evil to anyone, unless they truly deserved it. It almost as commonly known that he would rather take Holy Orders than willingly touch a woman intimately.
But sometimes, fate granted you a hand so delightful that it was impossible to resist.
Against the sleeping girl’s hip, Herbert uncurled his hand, biting his lower lip, his eyes dancing. Barely the tips of his fingers slipped against the flesh between the baby T-shirt and the waistband of the trousers she was wearing, touching ridiculously warm skin with a soft caress.
When she did not immediately wake or lash out, manicured nails lifted the hem of the shirt, sliding beneath the fabric, feeling her ribs rise and fall beneath his palm.
Bending his fingers just so, he let his nails scratch along her ribs slowly, grinning as he felt her shudder under his hand. She sighed and he peered over her shoulder at her sleeping face, cautious.
When she shifted, rubbing her cheek against the forearm curled under her head, he lifted his hand slightly, but she moved no further, settling comfortably once more, and he let his fingers graze upwards.
Now this...
This was quite unfamiliar territory.
Experimentally, mirth giving way to something that wasn’t quite nervousness but wasn’t entirely comfortable either, he shaped the curve of her breast with one hand, then pulled his palm back as if burnt.
No. He was evil, but even he had some levels he would not stoop to.
On top of that, why would he want to touch them? His nose wrinkled in distaste at the thought as he let his hand wander down once more. Truly, the male physique, with its hard lines and smooth planes, was far more appealing.
His fingers swirled in circles across her belly, the tip of his index fingertip tickling her navel before trailing downwards. With a deft flick, the button of her trousers was open and the zip rapidly followed its stellar example.
The folds of the fabric parted, revealing incongruously innocent white panties which made him hastily stifle a snicker.
“You put your hand down there and I cut it off.” The sleepy mumble made him start. She yawned widely, then added, “With nail clippers.”
Resisting the urge to ask for detailed explanations of the mechanics of such a feat, Herbert stared at her. “How long have you been awake?” he demanded warily.
One eye opened. “Since you chickened out of touching my chest,” she said, one side of her mouth curling up. “D’you think your dad would be cranky if I told him you had tried it on with me?”
Herbert stared at her, mouth open.
Her eyes glinted. “Or would he laugh?” Squirming away from him, she smoothed her shirt down and refastened her trousers. “Next time you’re asleep, I’m totally gonna feel you up, just so you know.”
Shaking himself, Herbert sat up. “I do not believe you,” he said, a touch of petulance in his tone.
“Hey, you groped me,” Dawn grinned as she got to her feet.
“Vengeance!”
“Ha! For what?”
Scrambling to the edge of the bed, he waved a finger in front of her face. “You bit me!”
She snorted aloud, rolling her eyes. “Please! That was nothing!” She jabbed him in the middle of the chest. “You’ve done way worse things to me.”
“I have done no such thing!”
“Oh yeah?” Turning, she started off across his room, towards the door. “I can prove it!” Her voice rang back over her shoulder and he hastened to follow, hastily shaking off a sock that had somehow slipped half-off during the night.
“False proof!” he called, hopping on one foot to get rid of the other sock.
Spinning around, she threw a smirk at him. “Real proof is way more fun.” Then, when he lunged at her with a growl of mock-ire, she laughed, spun away and started to run through the halls towards her room.
He could have caught her and both of them knew it, but he was curious and she was grinning far too much. Not for the first time, he wondered how deadly and wild she would have been, had his father been able to turn her.
She was pulling something out from behind her desk when he stepped into the lower level of her chambers, and she propped it up against the wall. It was a gleaming white board and had a dozen lines of text written on it in marker pen.
“What on earth are you doing?”
Writing something, the pen squeaking, Dawn looked over her shoulder. “You’ve gone and earned two more black marks,” she said cheerfully. “You woke me up, which is bad, and then you groped me.”
Herbert frowned, approaching, hands behind his back. “And you write down things that irritate you?” he inquired. “Does father know about this? Or William?”
Dawn’s grin was almost invisible from the angle he was standing at, but he could tell it was there. “They don’t need to know about it,” she replied, capping the pen with a flourish. “I only put you on it.”
Indignation vied with curiosity as he peered over his shoulder, then he uttered an sound of annoyance. “I would not say that this is fair, cherie! You write down things you consider troublesome? For what purpose?”
Reaching up over her shoulder, Dawn patted his cheek. “So I can mark ‘em off when I get revenge,” she replied, then seemed to recall something. Licking her fingers, she smeared away something that looked remarkably like ‘Made fun of my two weeks of no-snuggles’.
“You think my insulting you gives you credence for vengeance?”
She shrugged, turning to grin up at him. “Why not?”
Herbert was torn between glowering at her and laughing at her sheer cheek. His lips pursing, he gazed at her for a moment, then reached out and snatched the pen. “If you are to do this, then I feel I should also,” he said.
“Oh, please! What have I done to you?”
Herbert made a face. “You burnt my lips.”
“You tried to eat me!”
“You knew I would!”
Dawn laughed aloud. “So I what? Provoked you?”
“Clearly!” Herbert exclaimed, shoving her out of the way and tilting the board up, scrubbing several of her comments away with his hand. “I feel that I have a good number of offences to avenge myself for.”
“Note to self,” Dawn said, folding her arms. “Get Herbert back for graffitying my white board.”
“And note to myself,” Herbert replied, writing row after row of neat words. “Avenge my honour for this travesty of having my sins labelled and named without ever being made aware of the heinous little witch’s game.”
“Get him back for calling me a witch.”
“Punish her for eavesdropping...”
Dawn sputtered indignantly. “It’s my room and you’re talking to yourself.”
“And for stating the obvious,” Herbert sighed over the squeak of the pen.
“Stating the obvious?” she squealed. “That doesn’t count!”
He looked at her with mild surprise. “You list my foibles that irritate you, cherie,” he said. “If you wish, I shall add shrill rhetorical questions too.” He clicked his tongue, though he was struggling to hide a smile “You are quite efficiently digging your own grave, so to speak.”
She stuck out her tongue at him and he laughed.
“You’re mean.”
“I am,” he said cheerfully. “And handsome and witty.”
“And you totally were gonna put your hand down my pants.”
The pen squealed across the board, across all the words he had so neatly written.
Giving her a pointed glare, he sniffed. “It would have been your privilege,” he said.
She sat on the edge of the desk and grinned at him. “If you hadn’t been chicken.”
With a further aloof sniff, he started re-writing his list, and this time, it was double the length.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~
In the afternoon-lit library, a fire flickered to life in the fireplace as von Krolock emerged from nothing, one hand resting on William's shoulder. His fingers uncurled and he released William gently.
He was unsurprised when the youngster did not turn to look up at him, though he observed that William's hands were tucked into his pockets, no longer wrapping defensively about his body.
"You have questions?"
William shrugged, wandering towards the fireplace. "Nothing really," he said, stopping on the hearth rug and staring down at the flames.
"It does not appear so." Von Krolock approached, halting less than half a dozen paces from him. "You have been troubled since your return from Vienna."
William inhaled, then exhaled briefly. "Just this soul crap," he muttered. "Nothing I can do about it. Just need to get used to it, I think."
The Graf folded his hands before him, watching William gravely. Though he could have looked deeper, he knew it was not necessary. Even voicing a question was no longer necessary. The youngster would not have complied with his request, had it not meant he was willing to speak.
William rocked on the balls of his feet, then looked over his shoulder. "Did Herbert tell you...?" he began, then hesitated. "Haven't drank from a human... not for years... and then, Herbert..."
"And you regret this?"
William nodded slowly, looking back at the fire. "He was an arse, but he..." He shook his head, brows drawing together. "Years ago, wouldn't have given thought about ripping his throat out, but now, I..." He turned and smiled weakly. "I've gone soft."
"It is not soft to feel compassion for mortals," von Krolock said quietly.
"Even when they're great big stupid bastards like that arse?" William said, frowning a little. "He would have brought his friends after us. Would have battered the crap out of us if we'd been human."
Von Krolock gazed at him. "You drank, yes. You were strengthened. This man did not die, and I doubt that he will attempt such an attack again. What cause have you for regretting such a thing?"
"Still hurt a human," William replied quietly. He laughed, but it was mirthless. "I'm a bit out of practise on that front."
Moving to his chair close to the fire, von Krolock sat with a sweep of his cloak, spreading the dark fabric over the broad arms of the chair. "And you feel that this man, of all men, deserved such a thing?"
William laughed again faintly. "Feeling sorry for the neo-nazi homophobes... never thought I'd see a day that would happen," he mumbled. He scuffed his foot along the carpet, looking down at his toes. "If anyone deserved to be eaten, it was that bloke, but I saw his face." His eyes darkened with emotion. "He looked so bloody scared."
"And so he should have," von Krolock said softly. "When punishment is bestowed, it is favourable. Herbert spoke of dissuading mortals from assaulting those like himself and he seemed to believe this would have proved an ideal lesson."
"Yeah..." William mumbled again. "Bet the bugger didn't think a single poofter could take him and his mates down and give him the love-bite from hell..." Blue eyes looked at the Graf, troubled. "I didn't like it... but I can't stop thinking about it either."
The Graf brushed a fingertip against his lip, watching the youngster. "As one who only hunts rarely, I understand," he said softly. "The lure, the insatiable desire for the fresh blood of mortals is a strong one."
"But I get human blood here!" William protested. "It should be enough. S'more than I had for years." He dropped heavily into the couch close to the Graf's seat. "Shouldn't want to feel the heartbeat against my tongue... taste the emotions..." His eyes flicked up to the Graf. "But I do." He pushed his hands through his hair. "And then, I remember the look on that bloke's face and I feel sick... and I shouldn't because he deserved it... and then I feel hungry..."
"William.” Gently interrupting the youngster's recriminations, von Krolock asked softly, "What if you could find a human that would permit you to drink?"
William snorted. "Yeah, right..." He made a face. "Seen the type. Stupid kids with a death-wish and daft image of what vampires are. Not a good thing."
The Graf studied him. "Sometimes," he agreed softly. "But what is the difference between the blood given secretly, stored and used as we will, and a willing mortal with trust enough to allow you to feed just enough?"
"Well, for one thing, the mortal'd have to be thick as a brick to trust you," William said with a disbelieving snort. "What kind of human thinks a vampire'll just stop before doing them in?"
The Graf smiled slightly. "Dawn," he replied quietly.
Blue eyes looked up at him, wary. "She does?"
"She is mine and marked, William," von Krolock said. "Did you truly doubt it?"
"Should know better than that by now," William admitted faintly. "But... but what kind of human wants to get snacked on? Most of them are so bloody dense you wouldn't want to bite them in case it was contagious."
"A rare breed indeed," the Graf replied with a small, enigmatic smile. He rose and approached the couch where William sat, gazing down at him. "Tasting the blood of a mortal need not lead to death and misery, William."
"Usually goes that way anyway," William muttered, looking down and trembling as the Graf laid a hand on his head.
"Quite often, yes."
It was undeniable.
Von Krolock knew he would decorate all the deaths by his hand with flowery prose and denial. Hunger had assailed him, and few of those he had tasted had survived, but occasionally, rarely, they lived and continued to lives that were almost normal.
William looked up at him. "And what if I don't think I could stop once I started?" he asked in a whisper.
Sinking to sit beside the young vampire, von Krolock lifted a hand to touch his pale cheek, felt William tremble again. "That, William, is when you trust your soul to guide you," he said softly. "You need not kill to feed, nor be refused fresh blood, but it is all a matter of your own self-control."
William laughed weakly. "That was what I was afraid of," he mumbled.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
“I feel like I look like a poofter.”
Herbert smiled at the road ahead, eyes gleaming. “Where we are going, cheri, that will hardly matter.”
“We better not be going to the YMCA...”
Chuckling softly, the elder vampire pressed the accelerator flat. “Oh, no, darling,” he replied. “We’re going somewhere so much more charming.”
Only hours earlier, they had departed from the local airfield, several hours from the castle by car. They had arrived in Austria at a private airstrip just as the sun vanished over the horizon, emerging from his private jet by twilight.
It never failed to amuse him that centuries of accumulated interest on a small amount of pocket money from his childhood could buy so much in this age.
They had briefly stopped at one of his apartments scattered on the outskirts of Vienna, where a blushing girl had ushered them in and shown them the clothes that had been laid out, ready for them.
William had been terribly indignant about the new wardrobe, but with some eloquent persuasion from Herbert, he had donned the midnight blue shirt, grumbling every inch of the way as Herbert had laced it up. Then, he had seen the trousers and further persuasion had been required.
The memory made Herbert smile a little more.
His little darling certainly had stamina.
A sideways glance took in William’s profile, the excitable gleam in his eyes causing Herbert’s hand to slip from the wheel to caress his lover’s thigh. With his sandy hair in delightful curls and his expression so eager, he was like the William who had first set foot in his father’s castle so many years ago.
Swinging sharply into a side-street, sending some straggling humans scattering, they roared onwards into what was generally classed as a somewhat less savoury area, but to Herbert, it held such delightful memories that present rumours meant nothing.
Ahead of them, outside a nondescript three-storey building, a small queue seemed to have formed and he felt his lips curling up. So, they still had those who strove to enter and were denied? Wonderful.
Drawing up in front of the door, he saw the looks on the faces of the doormen. What had been violent indignation shifted sharply to startled delight as he let his window slide down.
“Herr Herbert!”
With a suggestion of a soft smile, he inclined his head. “May I leave my car here, my darlings?” he murmured to the leather-clad brutes, who were gazing at him raptly. “Or would I come back to find it missing?”
“You are welcome to park here, Sir!” the larger of the two was quick to say. What was his name again? Josef? Ah, something along that vein, yet it mattered not.
With a broader smile, Herbert opened the door and stepped out onto the pavement, aware of the whisper of curiosity and wonder that rippled through the veritable army of young and beautiful creatures.
As was only fitting in a place such as this, he was clad all in black for tradition’s sake, but hidden in the dark silks and velvets, there was an underlay of deep blood-red, subtle but for those who were watching him intently.
And he had every intention that everyone would notice it.
His hair was loose, like gold, spread across the velvet of his cloak artfully.
Glancing over his shoulder, his lips curled wickedly as William emerged from the other side of the car. He heard a few exclamations among the crowd, knew that his darling was receiving a generous share of attention.
“Come, cheri,” he called over his shoulder, unable to stop himself smiling at the baffled look on William’s pretty face. Stepping onto the black carpet, he waited for William to join him, then strode through the doors that the two doormen were kindly holding open, his cloak flaring about him.
Within, the building seemed vaster than it should have been from the outside, with a towering ceiling, where the middle of two levels had been ripped out to create and huge, open-plan area. From the top storey, one could look down on the dance-floor in the basement.
The lighting was excessive tonight, too many colours flaring along the gantries, and he made a note to pass such observations on to Fredericka. The music, however, was to the usual standard and as he stepped down onto the upper landing of the staircase, he smiled.
“You brought me to a Goth club?”
With a chuckle, he turned and looked back at William, who was staring around in disbelief. “Not just any Goth club, my darling,” he replied, a purr creeping into his tone. “My Goth club.”
With a toss of his head, gesturing for William to follow, he started down the broad staircase, familiar faces turning, smiling. Those who knew him moved towards him and he bestowed smiles and kisses on those he remembered well.
“Herbert!” Like a vision in black and scarlet, Fredericka seemed to appear from nowhere to clasp his hands and dip into a low curtsey. Her hair was deep purple now, in short, clinging curls, her make-up even more intricate.
“Fridi, darling!”
Drawn back upright, she beamed at him, the naughty gap between her front teeth even more prominent thanks to the deep shade of her lipstick. “I thought you had forgotten all about us.”
“You live in foolish hope, my darling,” he laughed, leaning forward to kiss her warm cheek. He could feel the press of others gathering close, watching, delighting, mortal and undead mingling in this sanctuary for both their kinds.
Fredericka pouted, but it faded into a broad smile as he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed her knuckles. She was a rare one, his Fridi. In his absence, she ran this little pleasure of his, letting him know when things were going well or badly, ensuring that all was as it should be.
“You will be visiting more often, then?” she inquired, as he turned his head to accept a welcoming kiss from one of her favoured lovers, a striking vampire with ice-blue eyes and hair as black as coal.
“Oh, I may...” Herbert’s eyes danced and he looked around. Lifting his hand, he caressed the cheek of another, this one a mortal youth whom he had encountered on his last visit. “Still here, pretty one?”
“Yes, sir.” The teenager blushed beneath his white make-up and lowered his eyes.
“And many more times hereafter, I hope,” Herbert purred, tilting the boy’s chin up and kissing his lips. He felt the youth quiver and drew back with a wicked little smile, almost laughing aloud as the boy blushed even more deeply. “Mm?”
“Y-yes, sir.”
“No less wicked for your absence,” Fredericka sighed lamentably, though he could hear the amusement in her tone. “So, what has kept you from us, mein Herr?”
Lifting his right hand over his shoulder, Herbert smiled and called out, “William?”
He did not need to turn to feel William approach through those swarming around him nor did he look away from Fredericka’s face as he felt William’s left hand laid in his. He saw Fridi’s eyes dart sideways, saw her brows rise in clear surprise.
Drawing William forward, brushing a kiss over the younger vampire’s knuckles, he could not quell the smile. “William, I present to you Fredericka, my charming co-manager of this little establishment. Fridi, this is William.”
Her eyes flicked from his face to Herbert and back again. “Good evening, Herr William,” she said with a modest dip of her head. “You are most welcome.”
“Evening.” William was watching her with bewilderment. While they had lapsed into French, it was a sad truth that Fridi’s accent was rather poor and William looked rather confused by it as well as the circumstances.
Nipping on the tip of William’s finger, Herbert smiled. “We shall be requiring my booth, cheri,” he said, his eyes returning to Fredericka. “I hope you have not let it get damaged in my absence.”
A mock-virtuous smile crossed her face. “Oh, I only let the most select of guests frequent it,” she replied, turning and shooing the gathered throng away. Bustling down the staircase, the force of her scarlet-taloned fists clearing a path if the force of her charming personality failed.
Lacing his fingers through William’s, Herbert lead him onwards. On the dance-floor, a path opened before them, punctuated by touches and exclamations from old friends and acquaintances.
Admiring glances ran over him and on to William, who was staring round at the pale faces and bright eyes, but he seemed oblivious to the admiration, lost in confusion about why they were in such a place. It was quite adorable really.
Ahead of them, he heard Fridi raising her voice, saw a pair chased from the choice booth that had always been and always would be his. With a low, semi-circular couch that overlooked the dance-floor, it granted the best view of the lower level of the club and the guests.
“Only the most select, hmm?” he inquired, ascending the small flight of stairs.
Fridi made a face at him, then looked beyond him at William, who was warily watching a vampire and human pair sharing a kiss. “Am I permitted to ask questions, mein Herr?” she inquired in an undertone.
“Perhaps later,” Herbert demurred with a gently chastising smile, bending to kiss the tip of her nose. “Now, be off, cheri. And be sure that the correct people are aware of my presence, hmm?”
He knew she understood and she smiled, bustling off with a rustle of lace and the squeak of leather.
“Interesting bird,” William mumbled, still watching the pair several feet away.
“She is indeed,” Herbert replied, tugging on his hand. “Come, darling.”
Pushed onto the couch, William looked up at him. “What is this place, then?”
“Sanctuary, cheri,” Herbert murmured with a smile. “Where we can all be ourselves without fear of judgement or assault.” He lifted William’s hand to his lips again, kissing the knuckles softly. “My little playground.”
“You weren’t kidding?”
Herbert laughed. “Cheri, everyone needs a hobby,” he said with a smile. “I am only thankful I have Fridi to run things when I am occupied with other matters.” He saw the confusion on William’s face. “You, cheri.”
“I’m ‘other matters’?” William frowned. “That’s what you told her?”
“Mm,” Herbert gazed at him with a lazy smile. “Significant other matters...”
A light seemed to go on in William’s head, his eyes going wide and dropping to the ring on his left hand. “You bloody poof...”
“And you never fail to sound surprised,” Herbert laughed as he received an armful of vampire and then a dozen kisses.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
It wasn’t a bad place, all things considered.
Yeah, it was a Goth club and he’d always found them a bit weird anyway, but with Herbert beside him, murmuring lurid tales of the humans and vampires on the dance floor, he found he didn’t mind it all that much.
What was getting on his tits a bit was the constant flow of people wandering over and sitting down on the opposite side of the low table, looking hopefully at Herbert, as if he might invite them to stay.
There had been all sorts, vampires, humans, boys, girls, and in one case, a red-haired woman who looked like she should have been on a stage, belting out soprano arias and wearing a horned helmet and a spiky breastplate.
Not that Herbert seemed to notice them. Didn’t even give them so much as a glance, his body and face turned in towards Spike’s own, one arm draped along the back of the couch and toying with Spike’s hair in its loose ponytail.
When the fifteenth had sat down and was watching the uninterested Herbert’s profile with big, puppy-dog eyes, Spike turned a glare and a flash of fang on them that sent them scurrying away hastily.
“That wasn’t very nice, cheri,” Herbert murmured, his eyes glinting.
“Bugger was annoying me,” Spike grumbled, though his eyes closed as Herbert’s fingertips brushed along the curve of his jaw. “What’s the deal, eh?” He exhaled and looked back at Herbert.” You got a fan club or something here?”
Herbert laughed, twisting a curl of his hair around his finger. “I’m afraid it is one of those charming rumours,” he murmured. “If I pay them the least attention, I am giving them leave to attend on me all evening.”
“And you ogling me means...?”
Herbert’s lips twitched. “I have not yet seen someone worth looking away for.”
“Yet?”
Leaning closer, Herbert kissed him softly. “Ouais, cheri.” The tip of Herbert’s nose brushed his. “I do have one I would like you to meet.”
“And he’s the ‘yet’, eh?”
“Mm-hm.” Herbert leaned close and kissed his throat, making him shiver pleasantly.
“And til he shows up...?”
“I accost you terribly and ensure everyone notices,” Herbert purred, cupping his jaw and nipping his throat tenderly. “And yes, cheri, you need not observe it. I am aware I am a ‘sodding great poof’, thank you.”
And he wasn’t joking either.
Gradually, Spike became aware that he’d somehow gone from practically vertical to definitely horizontal without even noticing, because the pleasant diversion of lips, teeth, tongue and wandering hands.
Only reason he had become aware of it was because Herbert had turned his face away from his throat. Squinting up, Spike saw someone standing close to the table. Not sitting like the other twits did.
Whoever he was, he was mortal, his heartbeat steady, calm. Slight in height and slim in build, he could barely have been out of his teens.
Clad in a loose white shirt and black trousers, with jet-black hair that gleamed by the flickering lights and hung to his narrow hips. His face was shadowed from behind, though the parts that weren’t were hidden behind the curtain of his hair.
The pleasant weight of Herbert’s body against his drew up and away and he almost complained until the boy turned his head. The light hit him just right, the left side of his face illuminated suddenly, all perfect cheekbone, dark, gleaming eye and lips that looked almost as wicked as Alfred’s did.
“Sodding hell...”
Herbert’s hand dragged along Spike’s thigh, then pulled away as he turned fully to face the boy who was apparently ‘yet’. Without so much as a smile, the boy stepped closer, straddling Herbert’s thighs and placing his hands on Herbert’s shoulders.
“Matthias,” Herbert murmured with a smile, his own hands coming to rest on the boy’s slim hips, drawing him down until the boy’s body was pulled flush against his and their lips were close to meeting.
Leaning on one elbow, Spike found he was staring at them mutely, as Herbert’s lips ghosted against the boy’s, one hand rising and drawing back the dark hair which had draped so enigmatically over the right side of the boy’s pretty face.
The boy trembled and Spike could imagine his eyes pressing closed as that fingertip dragged so lightly against his skin.
Then he saw it.
As perfect as the left side of the boy’s face was, the edge of the right was distorted as if crafted in wax and melted, leaving his right eye twisted downwards. Pale, the flesh stretched and taut from temple to jawline, even down onto his white throat.
He swore, he knew it, saw the boy jerk as if his words had been a slap, saw the flash of Herbert’s eyes, the unspoken warning.
With a wordless whisper, Herbert tilted the boy’s head and brushed kisses across the scar tissue. Spike’s tongue pressed against his lower lip as he watched. The boy’s hands tensed, knuckles going white against Herbert’s dark shoulders.
Pushing himself upright, unable to look away, Spike hesitated, then reached out and touched the long, dark hair that was trailing over Herbert’s hand. Brushed from a left-side parting, it cascaded heavily against his skin, warmed by the boy’s body.
He could see the dark iris shifting beneath the knotted eyelid, watching him warily but without protest as Herbert’s lips drew away from his skin. Slipping his fingers from the boy’s hair, Herbert tilted that face towards Spike’s, murmuring something in the boy’s perfect left ear before kissing his throat lightly
Dark eyes gazed at Spike, and Spike found himself staring again. Like sunbursts around the pupil, the boy’s eyes were flecked with amber across the dark iris. He let his fingertips move from dark hair to pale skin, so warm, then felt the boy quiver as he leaned closer.
Even as he touched the boy’s lips with his own, he felt Herbert’s fingers slide under his own hair, drawing him closer, closing the gap between him and the young mortal, instigating the first kiss.
Against his lips, the boy opened that perfect mouth in a quiet little gasp that became a faint moan as Spike’s hand cradled his throat, his tongue delving into the boy’s mouth, tasting this little mortal.
A hand touched him, tentative, then clutched at him as the boy’s mouth suddenly pressed against his, a stifled whine catching between their lips.
The scent of blood made him pull back, staring at the child-like face before him, then towards the boy’s throat, where Herbert was slowly, delicately lapping blood from a fresh bite.
“Herbert...”
Grey eyes flicked to him and Herbert smiled.
“Welcome to my playground, cheri,” he whispered, his hand drawing from Spike’s throat. Still watching Spike, the boy rose, moving from Herbert’s lap and kneeling on the floor close to Spike’s feet. “Taste, William.”
Looking from the boy to Herbert, who was drawing curtains closed about the booth, Spike shook his head. “Not again...”
Herbert sighed. “Cheri,” he said with a long-suffering expression on his face. “You need not drain him, but Matthias...” He leaned closer and ran his hand the length of the boy’s back. “He desires it.”
Silently, the boy rose on his knees, tilting his head, light and shadow playing across his face as his hair swept against Spike’s thigh. His eyes had fallen closed and his lips were parted, the blood on his throat dark against his marble-white skin and the pale fabric of his shirt.
Spike wanted to back off, leave the pretty, wretched boy to Herbert, to get away from the scent of the boy’s blood, still trickling so temptingly into the hollow of his collarbone, pooling there.
“William,” Herbert slipped along the couch, closer, a hand touching Spike’s thigh softly. “Indulge. What is the harm when it is his choice? When it is his desire?” A fingertip brushed his lips and he shivered at the taste of blood freshly gathered from the boy’s skin. “Taste him, cheri.”
A saint wouldn’t have been able to resist that.
Steered forward as the boy rose, slender hands pressed against his pale chest, Spike felt his demon come to the fore. Grasping the boy by the shoulders, he leaned closer, felt the contented breath as the boy sighed.
When his fangs broke the warm flesh, the heat seemed so unbearably delicious that his mind reeled, the spice of the boy’s essence flooding senses that had been starved of living blood for so long now.
Fingers biting into the boy’s narrow shoulders, he felt a hand clutch at his shirt, felt the flutter of the heartbeat picking up speed for a moment, heard a sound that was somewhere between sigh and moan.
On the edge of his awareness, he felt Herbert move closer, then shivered when cool lips brushed his throat and he felt his lover’s bite, his own mouth pulling from the boy’s bleeding throat to gasp aloud.
“Enough, hmm?” Herbert whispered against his skin.
Unable to do anything more than nod weakly, Spike leaned sideways against Herbert’s chest. He felt his lover lick a trickle of blood from the corner of his mouth delicately, then watched with dazed fascination as Herbert leaned down and covered the bite on the boy’s throat with his own lips, tasting him afresh.
Only when Herbert drew back did the boy lower his head, letting his hair fall back over his face, his hands dropping to rest in his lap.
“Here, little one.” Herbert smoothed the couch by his side and, like an obedient pet, the youth got to his feet. Only when he managed to stand did Spike notice just how much paler he looked and the uncertain wobble in his stance.
“Herbie...”
Grey eyes slanted a reprimanding look at him. “He will be fine, cheri,” he murmured into a kiss against Spike’s lips. He smiled again. “And now, don’t you feel better for the warmth of some proper blood?”
While he couldn’t deny he felt more energised than he had in months, there was something about the boy that was unsettling him. He wasn’t sure if it was the way the kid was behaving or the way Herbert was treating him, but something was off.
Curling like a sleeping puppy on the couch, the boy was either falling into sleep or unconscious or treading the line between those states. His dark head was lowered and gently pillowed on Herbert’s thigh, and Spike watched as Herbert tenderly smoothed a swathe of hair over the boy’s damaged face.
“What’s his story?” he asked quietly.
“A perfect example of the inherent evil of humanity,” Herbert replied, lifting his eyes to Spike. “He has been in my charge for almost a decade now.” Shocked, Spike looked up at Herbert, found the grey eyes watching him with a quiet sobriety and the faintest suggestion of a smile. “Surprised?”
Unable to deny it, Spike nodded. “Not like you to keep rugrats around.”
“A curiosity,” Herbert murmured, looking back down at the boy. “It is rare to find a child who is not afraid when bitten, even one who has been living on the streets. I would have killed him that night, had he not been so accepting, so… grateful for it.”
“Grateful?”
“Mm.” There was a strange tenderness in his eyes, as he stroked the boy’s hair. “I was hungering for a child’s blood and he had the misfortune of crossing my path, yet when I bit him, he did not fight.” There was a faint, wistful smile on Herbert’s lips. “I remember he clung to me, but he did not cry out. He was ready for death.”
“And yet, here he is…”
Herbert lifted a shoulder mildly. “You know how curious I am about unusual things, cheri,” he replied. “Never had I found one so young in body, but so utterly drained and resigned in spirit. I placed him in Fridi’s charge, visited often, and now, this is his home.”
“Living in a Goth club, sponsored by a vampire and serving as a snack? I’d guess that’s better than a rough life on the streets.”
Herbert shook his head slowly. “Rough life when he had a home, cheri,” he replied softly. “The scars he tries so resolutely to hide serve as bitter memorial and testament to why he finds himself safe here.”
Spike frowned. “And you’re just going to keep him here?” he said dubiously. Yeah, he had heard of such things, but from Herbert, it was a bit baffling. “Like a human pet and part-time dinner treat?”
Pale fingers threaded through the dense black silk of the boy’s hair. “Until he is old enough,” Herbert murmured.
Staring at his lover uncertainly, Spike’s brows dragged together. If he didn’t plan on killing the boy any time soon, then that only meant he meant one thing. And that was one hell of a thing. He’d only done it once, knowingly, himself and he remembered what a mess that had turned out to be.
Grey eyes slid up to blue, clearly recognizing the shock etched on Spike’s face. “You believed I was acting the part of an altruistic Samaritan by taking care of him for this long, cheri? No, no… my motives, as always, are selfish.”
“But you don’t have… you haven’t…”
Herbert’s lips turned up at the corners. “I have, William,” he murmured. “Rarely, I admit, because it really is quite ridiculous how much training one must provide, and father grew quite frustrated as he tended to receive my silly darlings when they got out of hand.” He laughed lightly. “Quite a few decades ago, I was firmly told I was only permitted to turn people when father wasn’t too busy, lest I get bored again.”
“But… why this one? Scarred-up little brat’s pretty enough, but…”
“Because he’s mine, William,” Herbert replied softly. He looked down at the boy. “I could let him go, unleash him on the world, a child outgrowing a world of unnatural things, but it would not work.”
“It might...” Spike offered uncertainly. “Seems like an all right kid...”
“He would kill himself.”
Blue eyes blinked. “You what?”
Herbert looked at him. “I told you he was mine,” he said. “He thinks he is, believes he is. It is all he has known for ten years. When I am not here, Fridi says he never emerges from his room. It is all he wants; to be mine.”
“So, you’ll turn a broken kid from a broken home?” Despite himself, he couldn’t help the indignation in his voice. Snapping at Herbert usually resulted in a verbal bashing, but this time, he didn’t care. “Just cos you almost ate him and turned him into house-broken finger-food?”
Herbert gazed at him. “Would you prefer that I killed him outright?” he asked softly, his fingertips untangling the boy’s hair. “That I break his neck, slaughter him like a dog grown too old for the hunt? Would that be any more merciful?”
Looking down at the boy, Spike exhaled. “No... s’pose not...” he admitted, knowing what the ‘normal’ world would make of a boy raised by demons and used as a feeding object. “Still don’t like it, though.”
Herbert nodded. “I understand,” he murmured, tracing a fingertip down Spike’s cheek lightly. He nodded towards the drapes. “Do you wish to go and explore, cheri, while Matthias is at rest?”
“You’re staying put?”
A kiss was touched to his lips before he started to rise, leaning on one knee on the couch. “Only until I am sure he is resting peacefully, cheri,” Herbert said softly. “I will find you.”
“S’a big place.”
The intense look on Herbert’s face made him feel like he was on a freefall ride. “I will always find you, William,” he whispered, then kissed him again softly, leaving him to stagger - reeling - from the booth.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Unpinning his cloak at his throat, Herbert let the fabric slip from his shoulders as he watched his William move out, alone and thrust unwittingly into the spotlight, his calf-length coat swirling around his legs with every step.
There were few among the select guests who did not know who Herbert was, and those who didn’t would probably have heard rumours. The fact that he had arrived and openly displayed William as his would have raised more than a few eyebrows among both living and undead.
With the drapes drawn back allowing him perfect placement for viewing whatever happened, he smiled and ran his fingers through Matthias’ hair as William descended the low staircase onto the dance floor, looking around.
He could see William’s gaze running over those around him, taking in all, humans and vampires, males and females, his expression showing nothing, the gleam in his eyes almost predatorial.
Of course, Herbert almost sighed lamentably, he had gone against his William’s morals here. Tut tut. How very wicked of him to make him drink from a pretty young mortal and convince him of the plausible necessity of eventually turning him.
Really, it was terrible.
It also had absolutely nothing to do with stirring William’s blood, instigating that delightful fire-flecked temper. Nothing at all. Especially nothing to do with the knowledge that old allies of Angelus were probably definitely present.
His lips twitched slightly as he watched the way William moved through the crowd, light glancing off the sandy waves of his hair, eyes glittering, lips drawing back from his teeth as he watched.
When a young woman was bold enough to try her fortune, William’s beautiful mouth moved into a smile and he canted his head politely, stepping around her and moving on, weaving through the dancers with a grace he seemed to think he did not possess.
By Herbert’s side, Matthias shifted, curling up more tightly on himself and drawing a brief glance. With a small, fond smile, Herbert drew his cloak from behind him and draped it over the boy loosely, smoothing his hair softly.
And then, he heard the shattering of glass.
Ah.
Turning, he looked back to the floor, where a circle was opening about his William, who was dusting some broken glass from his sleeve and looking all too quietly pleased with himself.
Somewhere above them on the second level, the DJ was silenced, most likely thanks to Fridi’s impeccable timing.
Blue eyes flicked upwards, then particularly did not look at Herbert.
“Nice to see a familiar face,” William murmured in casual French, his hands sunk in the pockets of his trousers, deliberately drawing his coat back from narrow hips. He was facing a taller, larger vampire clad in the most cliche of Goth attire.
It was clear the silly fool had no reflection, for his attempt at eyeliner was abysmal.
“Familiar, yes,” the vampire snarled. “Nice, no. I have been hearing rumours of you, Spike.”
Hmm. Apparently, William’s rough little pseudonym was worthy of some attention in itself, judging by the ripple of whispers that rushed about the hall.
William licked a canine, regarding the vampire calmly. “Heard some interesting things about you and all, Leon,” he said, wandering in a not-quite-casual circle around the large vampire, who turned to watch him. “Something about sticking with babies, because they’re the only things slow enough for you to catch.”
Leon’s eyes flashed angry gold and Herbert felt a smile trip across his lips. Ah, another of the lesser bloodlines. It was a pity, really, because so many of them were so pretty until their fangs were bared.
“At least I can still kill,” Leon growled, low and dangerous, but Herbert noticed that the large brute was circling William with a touch of wariness. Perhaps, it was the quiet smile on William’s face that was unsettling him so. “Heard you were broken in, Slayer’s pet.”
Stopping dead, William looked sharply at him, smile still on his lips, but eyes like ice. “That what you heard, eh?” he murmured, softly, deadly.
“Yes. Soft. Slayer-whipped. Fighting for her.”
Raising his eyes to the ceiling, William smiled in a way that was far from pleasant, dragging his tongue along his lower lip, then along his teeth. “Hearing all kinds of funny things, aren’t you?”
Abruptly, Leon was sent hurtling backwards by a savage roundhouse kick, tripping over his own booted feet and falling back against one of the staircases framing the dance floor.
Straightening up, William smoothed the lapels of his coat, taking a few casual steps towards the snarling Leon. “Shouldn’t tell stories,” he said. “Don’t know just who you might piss off.”
Scrambling upright, a notable space spreading around him, Leon threw off his coat and stalked forwards, fangs bared. “You’re a disgrace to vampires everywhere, Spike,” he growled. “Fighting for the good guys? It’s disgusting.”
William laughed outright. “Yeah, maybe,” he replied, turning his back on the raging Leon and meandering across the dance floor. “At least I look good doing it.”
With a shout of anger, Leon charged at him and without looking around, William side-stepped and stuck out one foot. Hooking Leon’s ankle, he jerked the larger vampire’s leg out from beneath him, bringing him crashing down on the floor.
With an easy kick, he flipped Leon onto his back, bringing his own boot down on the vampire’s throat. “And, despite popular misconception,” he added lightly. “I’m so much smarter than you, you stupid arse.”
Clearly not having learned his lesson, the large brute grabbed William’s ankle, tossing him back a step and leaping back onto his feet with an impressive growl, his body tensing into a fighting stance.
Sighing, William gave him an impatient look. “You really are dense, aren’t you?”
Still, he turned away again and walked towards the bar, ignoring Leon entirely. The crowd opened up in front of him, pale faces agog with fascination, curiosity and, Herbert was delighted to notice, no small amount of lust.
In the middle of the dance floor, Leon stared after him, confusion and ire vying for place on his face. “Get back here, Slayer-lover!”
If William had intended to ignore him further, that was the point where things changed.
Even from his seat on the far side of the hall, Herbert could see the subtle tensing of his William’s shoulders. His hands spread on the bar and for a moment, he was totally still, then he slowly turned.
His eyes flashed gold.
“Told you not to tell stories, Leon,” he said softly, though there was a tense energy in his steps as he almost hopped down the staircase, upper lip drawing back from his teeth, his arms loose by his sides.
“So, it’s true? You and the Slayer? You are sick, man! Sick!”
William didn’t reply, smiling like a demon, and striding towards him. Around him, his coat was flaring, his hair breaking loose from its confines. It would have taken a deeply stupid vampire not to see the fire in him and Leon started to back away.
Too late, though.
He started to turn, to run, but William was faster.
With a swift dozen steps, a leap and a kick, he brought Leon to his knees, one arm around the vampire’s neck from behind in a savage headlock. Lowering his head, he whispered something to Leon and Herbert saw blank terror on Leon’s face a moment before he dissolved into dust.
Remaining half-stooped, shaking the dust from his sleeve, William’s low growl rippled around the deathly-silent hall.
Between the still figures, one was moving. Herbert saw the vivid blaze of Fridi’s hair as she emerged from the crowd, approaching William with more bravery than a mortal should be permitted to have.
“Herr William...”
Whirling with a snarl, William caught her by the shoulders, jerking her closer, wrenching her head to one side.
“William.”
His voice like oil on troubled waters, Herbert saw William hesitate. He did not release Fridi, however, staring down at her white face and wide, dazed eyes. The first trace of blood was visible on her throat, a mere scratch.
With the thunder of Fridi’s heartbeat resounding in his ears, Herbert descended from his booth to the scene playing out less than half a dozen paces away. “Clientele, you have leave to touch, cheri,” he said softly. “But I would prefer it if the management went unharmed.”
Alas, that sometimes oil on troubled waters still burned.
A low growl ripped from William’s throat as Fridi was thrown aside and, all at once, Herbert was slammed up against one of the columns that flanked the dance floor, his lover’s eyes blazing fiery gold at him.
“You set me up, you son of a bitch,” he hissed, a hand clenched in Herbert’s shirt.
Several of the bouncers moved forward, but a gesture from his hand shooed them back and Herbert grinned. “I did.”
William growled, low, savage and furious, and Herbert flinched in pain as a fist twisted into his hair, jerking his head to one side. He felt the shirt rip and pressed his eyes shut with a moan as William bit him, hard and vicious.
Hands clutching wildly, desperately, at his lover, pulling him close. He felt the whine rise in his throat, his hips shifting against William, but still, William was drawing on him, taking enough to leave him reeling.
When he pulled back, he released Herbert and, to his own great surprise, Herbert slid to the floor, panting, staring up at William who had never seemed quite so delightful as he did at this moment.
Shaking his head, eyes blurring to blue, hair in disarray, William glared down at him, his voice little more than a snarl. “Don’t do it again.”
Touching his lower lip with the tip of his tongue, Herbert nodded, his mouth curling up at the sides. He lifted his hand to touch his bleeding throat, then extended it to William. His beautiful darling hesitated but a moment, then caught him, pulling him upright and into his arms.
“Never again, cheri,” he whispered, draped against William’s chest.
The ferocity in those blue eyes softened. “Right,” William said, arms tightening around his waist, holding him safely and secure. There was a hesitant half-smile. “I think you might need a seat...”
“Fridi,” Herbert whispered, feeling all too pleasantly dazed. “Follow Fridi.”
Vaguely, he heard William calling out to her as his head dropped to rest on William’s shoulder. He could feel fingers stroking his hair, the trickle of blood on his throat, and could not recall once feeling more satisfied about being bitten in public.
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Part Two