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[fwibble]

TITLE: Will Set You Free
RATING: R.
FANDOMS: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series & Tanz der Vampire
SPOILERS: Buffy S1-7, Angel S1-5.
SUMMARY: Revelations are made in the wake of events at the castle.
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, In The Air, Makes Us Stronger, Three's a Crowd, Tis The Season, Divergence, Things Fall Apart, Broken Glass, Bleed For You, Even Angels Fall then this chapter.
PAIRINGS: Spike/Herbert, Dawn/von Krolock etc.
WORDS: 10,183
NOTES: I love Spike. That is all.
__________________________________

“You sure you’re gonna be okay?”

Smiling tiredly, Dawn nodded. “I’ll be up and wrecking things as usual soon,” she promised.

“And you’ll come and visit as soon as you’re up for travelling?” Sitting on the edge of her sister’s bed, Buffy was watching her, no small amount of concern on her face. “I wanna see you up and walking and not all holey next time, k?”

“Don’t plan on getting staked in the guts again any time soon,” Dawn replied, squeezing Buffy’s hand. “Not as fun as people say.” Her eyes closed, so heavy. “Also, splinters suck.”

She heard her sister laugh quietly, but it was strained. “Dawnie, if you want me to stay, I can get someone else to...”

Dawn shook her head. “Rona’s girls’ll need your help,” she said, her voice trembling as she murmured her fallen friend’s name. “You’re the best there is. They’ll need you to show them what to do... how to go on even when things really, really suck.”

“But you’re my sister...”

“And Rona was my friend.” Dawn opened her eyes and looked at Buffy. “I want you to go and help them. I’ll be okay.” Her smile was faint, exhausted. “Johannes’ll keep me from going explodey and I have Herbert and Spike around as well. I’ll be fine.”

“You better be.” Though Buffy’s words were accepting, she still looked like she wanted set up camp in Dawn’s room and wait right there until she was well enough to move about on her own. “Dawn...”

“You get mushy on me and I swear I’ll get up and kick you!” Pointing a trembling finger at her sister, Dawn saw the half-smile that crossed Buffy’s lips. “And hey, I know you just wanna stay because I have a castle now.”

“Well, yeah...” The Slayer drew a deep breath and exhaled it. She got up from the bed, drawing Dawn’s hand up with hers. “You stay alive, okay?”

“Same to you,” Dawn murmured. “Say hi to everyone for me.”

“I’ll think about it,” Buffy replied, giving her fingers a last squeeze before releasing her hand. “You gonna get some rest?” Dawn nodded. “I’ll see you soon, k?” Again, Dawn managed to nod, her eyes closing.

Vaguely, she was aware of her sister walking away, reluctantly. And though the sensation of emotion wasn’t as strong as it was before, she could feel the edge of worry, and a little bit of resentment there too.

She probably fell asleep again then, although she wasn’t sure. Couldn’t even remember if it was morning or night. Things tended to blur and she couldn’t help thinking she was sleeping way more than usual.

Or maybe less.

Again with the not-sure-ness.

Either way, she became aware of the smell of cooked meat, her mouth watering before she could even identify what the scent was. Took her a minute to recognise that somehow, in vampire-villa, someone had got hold of a burger.

“Oh...” Forcing her eyes open, she tilted her head to see Spike standing by the bed, a half-grin on his lips. He had a plate in one hand and a couple of mugs dangling from the finger of the other. “Spike... are you an angel?”

“Don’t even go there, love,” he replied, putting the plate down on the bedside table and negotiating the mugs off his fingers. “Figured you might be a bit peckish, so got my culinary skills out and ordered take away.”

In response, her stomach growled and she pressed a hand to it. “I think I might love you just a little bit,” she confessed.

“For bringing you junk food?” Leaning in over the bed, he offered her his hands, pulling her up into a sitting position. Leaning over her to rearrange the pillows behind her, he propped her up, his face close to hers. “F’I knew it was that easy, I’d’ve taken you to McDonalds years back.”

“Might love you,” she said, poking him in the chest. “But you’re still a pig.”

“Sometimes,” he agreed, sitting down on the edge of the bed beside her. He lifted the plate over, stacked high with unhealthy-looking food that smelled oh so good, and offered her a fork, which she stared at. “Oh, right... American. Don’t know how to use civilised things.”

“Shut up.” Dawn made a face, picking up the juicy big slab of a burger, biting into it and uttering a groan of relief at the taste of solid food in her mouth. Last time she’d eaten, it was sticky toast the morning before she got a bit of wood in her belly, and now she was hungry.

Picking up one of the mugs, Spike offered it to her. “Water?”

“Mm!” Grabbing the mug, she downed a mouthful. “Oh, God... meat shouldn’t taste this good.”

“Yeah,” Spike noted, reaching out and staying her hand, halfway to her mouth. “But you might want to take it slow, or else you’re just going to bring it all back up, love. Little bit at a time is the best way to go.”

Reluctantly taking a smaller bite and chewing on it, Dawn muttered, “You just wanna torture me by giving me good food and then not letting me eat it.”

“Guilty as charged,” Spike grinned, but she could feel the prickle of something else just below the smile. The grin faded as she continued to stare at him, following the ripples of emotion. Oh, it was weird. “What?”

“You’re worried.”

He stared at her. “Well... well, yeah... you’re all stabbed and...”

“Not... about me.” Dawn watched him, could see something in his expression that wasn’t there, but she understood even though she couldn’t understand how. He was frightened, but trying not to show it, scared for someone close. “Where’s Herbert?”

It was like his worry was a flashlight and the second she said that, it was switched from dim to dazzling, blazing bright.

“What do you mean you don’t know?”

Spike was definitely more than staring now. “Love, I didn’t say anything...” he said cautiously. “How did you know I was...”

Dawn blinked suddenly, twitching her head as his voice seemed to echo. “Oh, that was weird...”

“And then some...” he noted, turning her face towards his with a finger. His eyes searched hers and she heard the whisper of words he wasn’t saying in her mind, not fully formed, but the feeling of them.

“Oh...” Slapping her hand against her brow, she squeezed her eyes closed, trying to shut out the rising pressure of his consciousness against hers, but she had looked too far into his mind and it was getting tangled with hers. “Ow, ow, ow... you’re thinking too loud...”

And oh, that didn’t help!

“Don’t swear!”

“I didn’t!”

“You thought it! A lot!”

She felt him grab her hands, pulling them from her face, then felt his palms pressing against her cheeks, the contact bringing him into sudden and sharp focus. Her eyes snapped wide and she stared at him.

“S’right, love,” he whispered, staring back at her. “Look at me. Don’t lose your grip on you. Remember which part of you is you and which part is me, right? S’your mind. You can make it do what you have to.” Dawn nodded, drawing a sharp breath. “You just have to focus.”

Against her jangling senses, she could feel his thoughts, like a mantra, repeating the same thing as his voice was saying, over and over again, not tangling around her mind, not confusing, a background buzz she could push aside.

Staring at him, forcing her mind to focus, she tried to push the invisible link back, but it was like little fingers clutching at her brain. “I-I can’t.”

“You can, love.” His voice was quiet, calm, just as calm as his mind was. She didn’t know what was weirder. hearing him in stereo with himself or the calmness. “Imagine it away. Your mind. Build your walls up. Block it.”

With his presence fading, seeming to somehow get smaller, she closed her eyes, felt the connection between them break and gasped aloud at the sudden quiet that filled her head. “Oh...”

“Atta girl.” Spike’s hands withdrew from her face and she opened her eyes to see him watching her. “All on your own in there?”

Focussing inwardly for a moment, Dawn nodded. She rubbed a shaking hand over her face, shivering. “What...” she began, then frowned. “Wait... how did you know how to make it stop?”

Spike laughed lightly. “Pet, you don’t spend a hundred and twenty years gallivanting around after a more-than-a-little-loopy psychic vampire without learning a few tricks to stop her losing it even more.”

Rubbing her throbbing forehead with her fingertips, Dawn winced. “So... any idea what I did, since you’re so smart?”

“Best guess is that you’ve got that new and funny mojo the boss mentioned,” he said. “You were looking at me and probably got to see more than you normally would... tried to look a bit further?”

“Yeah... yeah, sounds right.” Dawn leaned back against the pillows, eating forgotten, her head aching. “Didn’t mean to break into your head like that...”

His hand patted hers. “S’all right, Nibs,” he said reassuringly. “You’ve got all these new things to play with. Bound to get a bit over-excitable to begin with. Not like you did any harm.”

She started. “Could I?”

For a moment, he didn’t look at her, then he lifted his eyes to her. “It’s borrowed magic, love,” he said quietly. “The key stuff. It’s not you, but it’s part of what makes you. Not your power. You’re using the stuff you were made from and it’s pure stuff. Don’t doubt it could be pretty nasty.”

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone, Spike,” she whispered.

Watching his face was like watching him through a kaleidoscope. She could see the patterns of emotions shifting in his eyes, tried to stop herself from looking in case it went deeper, in case she almost lost herself again.

“It’ll happen, love,” he said quietly. “No way you can protect everyone all the time. People get hurt.” His fingers squeezed hers. “But you’re a smart brat and stubborn enough to control yourself. Don’t think you’ll do anyone any real harm.”

She shivered. “I didn’t want this.”

“Don’t think the Graf wanted to force it on you either,” Spike said, reaching out to lay a hand on her forehead, so cool compared to her warm skin. “But you’re still with us and that’s the main thing. This... it’ll be all right. He’ll help you with it.”

She smiled weakly. “Least I won’t go all sparkly again,” she said, closing her eyes. “Buffy said I looked like a human version of Vegas.”

“Speaking of, where’d she run off to?”

“Slayer-stuff,” Dawn replied. “Very important stuff. Told her to go and be Chief-Slayery for the team.” Even though she was trying to ignore it, she felt the wave of his mood. “I told her to go, Spike. They need her.” She cracked her eyes open, managed a faint smile. “And hey, I have you guys...”

“Too right you do, love,” he said firmly. “Graf kept you here so you could make our lives a misery a bit longer.”

“Gee, thanks.” She made a face, then settled back against the pillows. “So, since you’re stuck on human-sitting duties again, I’m guessing either you and Herbert had a fall out or you’ve misplaced him...”

It was like hitting a wall of anxiety and fear, and she winced.

“Okay, telepathy, not so fun.”

“Sorry, ducks.” He sighed heavily. “Herbie... he’s not been sleeping right for days and even if I doze of for a few minutes, I wake up and he’s gone. Looked all over the place, but I couldn’t find him this morning.”

“Want me to look?”

Again, it was like being splashed with a bucket of cold water, making her gasp.

“Don’t want you over-stretching yourself, love.”

She looked at him. Let herself look properly, eyes and everything else as well. It made her wince to see just how drained and exhausted he was. Everything about him was edged in grey worry and bleak, dusty fatigue.

“Gimme your hand,” she said quietly.

“Dawnie...”

“Spike, do it.” She extended her hand, palm up. “You can keep me safe if you want to, but with or without your help, I’m looking.”

With reluctance, he laid his palm over hers, curling his fingers around her hand. “If you blow yourself up, I’m going to laugh, Nibs,” he said, his eyes on her face. “Laugh and laugh.”

“I know,” she replied, drawing a calming breath and focussing on his concern, on the object of it and closing her eyes to look. Part of her expected swirly lights or wind blowing or something, but there was nothing more than a prickle in her palm and a stab of pain in her skull. “Ow!”

“Nibs?”

Opening her eyes, she uncurled her hand, her smile even fainter than before. “He’s okay, Spike,” she said, blinking as he swam in and out of focus. “He’s with Johannes and they’re both... not sleeping, but whatever it is they do...”

Like a spring breeze, his relief whispered around her. “Thank you, ducks.”

“No problem,” she murmured, though her chin was sinking inexplicably towards her chest. Her eyes felt like they were weighted down my lead, dragging closed, and on the edge of her awareness, she felt Spike gently drag her back into a lying position.

A kiss touched her forehead and she heard him whisper, “Sleep well, Nibs. You need it.”

____________________________________

It was close to dusk.

In the soft, velvet black of his sarcophagus, von Krolock could feel the creeping approach of night beyond the stone walls of his resting place, cooling the land that still sighed from the heat of day.

He had slept, rested deeply since dawn. So deeply in fact that he had been unaware of the moment his sarcophagus had been carefully opened and allowed his little intruder access.

Draped like a living cloak over his father’s body, Herbert had squeezed himself into the minimal space beside von Krolock, taking up far more room than he had the last time he had dared to creep in.

How long had it been? Nearly four centuries, certainly. In the trembling throes of a nightmare during his afternoon nap, when he was barely half-a-dozen mortal years, he had run to the crypt and the Graf had woken with a shivering bundle of nervous energy and racing heart clutching at him.

The heartbeat was long since silenced, but there was the faintest of tremors, even now.

Herbert’s fair head was tucked on the Graf’s shoulder. Curling his arm, von Krolock gently stroked his son’s hair, felt the pale strands sifting through his fingers like silken threads.

He could feel his son’s fingers tangled into the front of his rumpled shirt, clutching at him as that tiny child had clung to him so long ago. Without thought, he softly began to hum the old lullaby he had so often sang to Herbert so many years before.

Against his chest, he felt Herbert’s hand loosen, and against his shoulder, his son rubbed his cheek with the faint, drowsy sound he often made when rousing himself from a comfortable sleep.

That simple little half-sigh, half-yawn caused the lullaby to fade in von Krolock’s throat, his other arm crossing his body to tenderly touch his son’s face, so beloved and yet so recently neglected.

Soft lashes fluttered against his fingertips, and Herbert’s hand curled into his shirt once more, his son’s whole body pressing more tightly against him, as if being even a little way from him would tear them apart eternally.

Von Krolock’s eyes closed in soundless pain.

He did not need to ask why Herbert had come to his sarcophagus, nor why he clung to him so fiercely now, even as the days had gone by. The tears and anguish of that day, of that moment, the terrified fear that had reduced Herbert to this. He knew. He understood. And he cursed himself for not truly realising.

How could he have been so monumentally foolish to even consider leaving his most precious and beloved child? And in the name of a love that would age and wither and turn to heart-breaking dust in his hands, an unshakeable fact that made his folly cut all the deeper.

What would have become of his darling child, had he been unable to tame the power within his mortal lover? Had he been reduced to dust and ash, where would his son have turned? William? Would that have been enough?

Tilting his head, he pressed his lips to the top of his son’s head, eyes closed in silent grief at his selfishness.

That he could not even say what truly lay between his son and William was more potently painful than the deadliest of weapons. So ensnared by his own despair and solitude, he had been blinded to something far subtler, something that, even now, he could not grasp.

Of all those he had loved best and dearest in the world, his son had always taken pride of place. He had watched the child grow from wide-eyed infancy to impish childhood, struggling through his teenage years to become a young man any father would have been proud to have as a son.

And yet...

And yet now, he had let perhaps the greatest trial of his son’s generous heart go on without his watchful and protective eye. Even now, he was unaware of what had come to pass.

Another sigh rippled his shirt and he felt Herbert’s head tilt into his touch.

“Herbert,” he murmured, tracing his fingertip along the edge of his son’s jaw gently.

He felt the shift of his son’s cheek, an invisible smile, though tentative. “I’m awake,” the whisper was close to his throat. “You were thinking too hard. It woke me up.”

Von Krolock smiled briefly, his thumb tenderly stroking his son’s cheek. “It is close to dusk,” he murmured, though he knew he needed to make no such observation.

“Mm.” Somehow, Herbert managed to nestle even closer and he felt his son’s fingers slip beneath his heavy cloak, curling under the edge of his ribs, wrapped utterly around him.

Still so very precious, despite the eternity they had already shared. Always and forever, his most beloved, yet he had brought him so close to utter ruin.

His voice soft, von Krolock whispered, “Can you forgive me, mein Schatz?”

Against his shoulder, Herbert tilted his head. Pale hair whispered against dark silk. “For what?” It sounded so lightly-spoken a question, yet they both knew that there were a multitude of possible answers.

“William.”

The answer was the matter that was troubling him the most. The boy had barely dared to look at him nor speak to him since their encounter in his study, and he remembered with stark clarity his son’s eyes blazing at him in possessive anger in that dark room.

Feral fury had vied with paternal concern and wonder on that occasion, yet he had not ventured to question his son then. Even when he had heard Herbert’s emotions reflected in music, he had not dared approach, though he had been unable to say why.

Herbert’s laugh was faint, nervous. “Ah...”

And there was his reason, so clearly expressed in that single trembling sound.

His beautiful son was afraid and, accordingly, this strange emotion in his child caused him more concern than he would dare admit. With his own emotions awry, he had been concerned about upsetting his son’s emotions further.

“Yours?”

“Father, I...” So much a child, seeking approval, seeking acceptance. “I love him.”

The Graf nodded slowly. “You always have,” he murmured, a gentle invitation for Herbert to continue, for he had no doubt there was more, a well of emotion that only needed to be tapped.

“No.” Herbert trembled in his embrace. “I love him. He’s mine. He’s always going to be mine.” He felt the shivering fingers clutching at his shirt. “He... it is nothing like I have known... and I...” Herbert’s cheek pressed against his cloak. His voice was shaking. “Vati, I love him.”

“Oh, Herbert...” Gathering his son too him as best he could, von Krolock stroked his fingers through Herbert’s fine hair, his lips touching Herbert’s brow. This was what he had hidden from and ignored, lost in his own indulgence, savouring his misery.

He felt the shivering breath against his throat. “It...” Oh, it had been centuries since he had heard such tentativeness. “It frightens me.”

“This manner of love?” Von Krolock murmured gently. He felt Herbert’s nod on his shoulder, could imagine the wide eyes seeking guidance and understanding. “And that is why you reclaimed him?”

Herbert shivered and the Graf felt a pang of grief and guilt that he had forced his ire on his son’s beloved and thus, upon the one person he had wished to shield from it. “You were breaking him, father,” he whispered. “I could not bear to see him broken, not my William.” He trembled again. “I’m sorry I stood against you, but he is mine.”

“There is nothing to apologise for, mein Schatz,” von Krolock whispered. “The guilt is mine. I blinded myself to all but my own emotions.” His thumb brushed Herbert’s cheek gently. “I did not let myself see what had grown between you and William.”

His son laughed, so weakly, so frail. “I thought you would be angry with me.”

“For falling in love?” The Graf’s words were gentle. “For protecting that which you care for?” His lips touched his son’s brow. “No, Herbert. Never. If aught, I am more proud of you now than I ever have been.”

There was a moment of utter stillness.

“Truly?”

The Graf smiled, stroking Herbert’s cheek gently. “Truly,” he whispered.

Against his side, his son nestled close to him, full-grown, but eternally that darling boy whom he had watched and loved from birth. “I love you, Vati.”

“And I you, mein Schatz,” von Krolock whispered. “Forever.”

_________________________________

The cunning plan was afoot.

Making his way through the halls, Spike tried to think if he’d forgotten anything, but as far as he could recollect, everything was in place. When the Niblet had come round after her nap, he’d told her his plan and she’d grinned and okayed it.

Best of both worlds really; she’d get to see the Graf without constant supervision of Slayer or son, while he would get Herbert alone for the first time in almost a week.

Not to mention with all the emotional buggery out of the way, things might actually start settling down a bit after all. Would be nice to wake up in a bed with someone beside him, instead of an empty hollow in the covers.

So, the plan was afoot and, as usual when he didn’t know where to start looking for the boss or Herbert, he went to his source.

Perched on the banister above the main hall, squatted on the stone, Illyria’s eyes were fixed on the doorway, as if she expected an assault at any given moment. Nice to see she was doing what he’d asked. Good demon, that.

“Blue?” Her head tilted slightly in acknowledgement. “They back inside yet?”

“The Sorcerer and his Blood returned immediately after sundown,” she replied, then turned to look at him. For a moment she said nothing, and he tried to hide the sheepish grin that was edging towards his lips. “I see that you seek the son. Your attire suggests that you desire fornication.”

Looking down, the grin widened a little. “If you can tell that, he’ll definitely catch on, then,” he said, pleased. Not that he’d expected anyone to be able to ignore his choice of outfit. “You see which way they headed?”

A slim finger pointed to a hall that lead to the gallery which overlooked the grounds of the castle. “The Sorcerer attends upon him,” she noted. “You may instil in him a desire for copulation also.”

For a moment, Spike hesitated, but he drew a sharp breath. “Tough tits for him then,” he said. “Didn’t get dolled up like this for anyone but Herbert.”

Illyria gazed at him, her arms resting on her upraised knees, hands dangling between then. “The Sorcerer’s child will be gratified by your loyalty,” she murmured, her eyes slipping down as his single piece of clothing started to do the same. “Commendable.”

“Oi! Eyes off the merchandise!”

He was almost convinced he saw the demon’s lips twitch in her approximation of a smile. “You must move swiftly, lest your modesty be lost to you,” she said with a nod towards the hall.

“You’re quite the bitch, y’know, pet,” he said, shaking his head.

As he headed up the stairs, he heard he say, “I am forced to find entertainment in your futile existence. It is far superior to television.”

Snorting, he continued on his way, the polished stone smooth beneath his feet, still bearing a little of the warmth of the sun that had been streaming in the windows from the gallery above.

He heard the Graf’s voice before he saw either of them. “If it is to be arranged, best now before the peak of summer comes.”

“Would it not be simpler and more practical to transfer that which we require into the castle, father?”

Pausing, Spike peered around the doorway at the top of the stairs, spotting them halfway down the gallery.

“Practical, perhaps, though I feel more at ease resting in the crypt.” Side by side, father and son were standing at the broadest window, looking out into the evening. “A walkway would be easily constructed.”

“And what if we have guests, as we did of old?” Herbert looked up at his father. “It was for our own protection we rested in the crypt by day, away from those who would assault us within our own walls. With a walkway, they could reach us.”

Von Krolock smiled briefly, his hand idly caressing the fair hair at the nape of his son’s neck. “Ah, but our most dangerous of guests are mortal now, Herbert,” he said with a glance at his son. “And our balls and the visits by rivals... those days are long since past, I am afraid.”

“Only because of those silly wars,” Herbert grumbled. Spike could see the way he was leaning into his father’s touch, seeking wordless support, and even though he was upright, his face was still paler, more drawn than it had any right to be. “Why should we not begin them again?”

For a moment, it looked like the Graf might argue, but then he gazed out at the grounds, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why not indeed?” he murmured.

Herbert uttered a quiet, happy sound, slipping an arm around his father’s waist and leaning against him. It could almost have been a simple embrace, had Spike not been watching and seen his legs buckle slightly.

“Herbert...”

Looking up at his father, Herbert managed an unconvincing smile. “I am all right, father,” he said softly. “Truly.”

Spike watched the dark eyes watching Herbert’s face. “Then why linger with me, mein Schatz?” he asked softly, lifting a hand to tilt Herbert’s chin up. “You know I will still be here, should you wish to go.”

For a split-second, Herbert looked so uncertainly worried that Spike wanted more than anything to reach out and give the silly sod a hug.

The Graf bent and pressed a kiss to Herbert’s brow. “There is nothing to fear, Kleines,” he said, so gently, so tenderly that Spike found himself staring, unaware he was visible until those dark eyes looked straight at him.

His eyes cast down, Herbert nodded, one of his hands grasping one of his father’s. “I know,” he whispered.

Even if he hadn’t felt the Graf’s nudge in his mind, Herbert needed him there and Spike knew it. He stepped into the gallery, meandering along as if admiring the paintings that hung high on the wall.

He heard the moment Herbert turned and saw him, wished he’d been able to get a photo of the look on his face, but he was too busy pretending to examine a broad portrait of some long-dead Lord or other.

“Cheri...?”

Turning, shaking his loose hair back from his cheeks, his hands folded behind his back, Spike let the grin rise at the astonished look on his lover’s face. “Oh!” he said, bringing one hand around to push his glasses up his nose. “Evening, love.”

It was rare to surprise Herbert. He’d learned that years ago and had long since given up trying to do it. Never worked when he did anyway.

Apparently, though, he had managed impressively today.

He watched Herbert’s eyes track over his face and his unbound hair, roaming down his bare torso to the white towel that he had - by negotiation, care and staples - managed to fix at a jaunty angle across his hips. The top two corners of the towel were pinned just above his left hip, flapping wide, revealing almost every bare inch of his leg.

Grey eyes dragged back to his face, blinking slowly, dazed. “Is... what...” A gentle hand at his back made him take a step closer to Spike. Lowering his eyes in feigned self-consciousness, Spike adjusted the ruffled tie at his throat. “William?”

Peeking over the edge of his glasses, Spike had to bite his bottom lip to keep from grinning too much. “Sorry, love,” he said, closing the distance between himself and Herbert to an arm’s length. “Got lost.”

“Lost...?” Herbert echoed dazedly. “Where... were you going dressed like... that?”

Shrugging one shoulder, keeping his eyes down as Herbert stepped closer and gently touched the loose waves of sandy hair that were skimming his shoulders, Spike lifted his eyes. “Thought I might try and find the Jacuzzi again...”

He’d’ve had to be blind to miss the sudden darkening of Herbert’s eyes and the way his lips drew back from his teeth.

Course, the way Herbert’s hand sank into his hair and the way he pulled him close, almost dislodging the towel, and kissed him was a pretty good hint that he still had it in him as well.

“You wretched darling.” The words were panted against his lips moment later and he noticed his glasses were knocked askew. “Father, excuse us.”

As he was steered away, towards the doorway and the stairs again, Spike risked a glance back and saw the amusement on the Graf’s face, one hand unfurling in a brief wave of acceptance.

That the tower room with the Jacuzzi was actually reached was impressive.

Every dozen paces, Spike found himself pinned up against a wall, his mouth ravished, his hands pinned against the decorative carvings. Several times, a thigh slipped between his and made his eyes roll as Herbert pressed against him.

He was pretty sure he saw Illyria watching at one point, but didn’t give a rat’s arse.

Staggering backwards into the bathing room, pushing Herbert’s shirt off him, Spike registered Herbert’s surprise as their kiss broke apart, both of them sporting bleeding and swollen lips.

Looking around at the candle-lit bathroom, the steam already rising from the bubbling Jacuzzi, Herbert seemed lost for words. His eyes slipped back to Spike, who gave him a small grin.

“Thought you might like it,” he said by way of explanation.

“Like it?”

And it seemed that was a bit of an understatement.

His hands gentle, his touch reverent, Herbert kissed him, slowly, deeply, pausing only to slip Spike’s glasses off and lay them aside. Beneath Spike’s hands, Herbert’s trousers were loosened, and as Herbert’s kisses moved down Spike’s throat, his teeth tugged away the silk tie decorating it.

The towel was discarded moments later.

Climbing into the tub, Spike was pulled into Herbert’s embrace in the water, kisses and caresses leaving him moaning, shivering, utterly at his lover’s mercy. His eyes closed, he tilted his head back and bared his throat in complete trust and could swear he heard a whispered “I love you” before the bite.

_____________________________________

“You lost something.”

Sinking smoothly to sit on the edge of her bed, Johannes arched a brow as he gently caught one of her hands and lifted it to his lips. “Lost something, Liebling?” he murmured, brushing a kiss across her knuckles.

“Mm.” Comfortably arranged among her pillows, Dawn’s lips curled up. “About yay tall...” She gestured to a couple of inches above her head. “Blond... usually answers to Herbert...” Her eyes glinted. “Last seen, attached to you. Did Spike find a crowbar?”

“Liebling...” His chuckle was soft. “You believe it would take such force?”

Dawn gazed at him. “Nearly a week of being glued to you?” she murmured. “I’d say that was a yeah. A crowbar or good old nudity...” Johannes’ lips twitched. “Ah, nudity it was, then...”

“There was a towel involved,” he murmured, brushing his thumb along her knuckles lightly. “And the revelation that there is a Jacuzzi within the castle.”

Dawn grinned. “So, you didn’t know about that, huh?”

“My son is most adept at keeping his secrets,” Johannes said, cradling her hand in his. “You have rested well, Liebling?” He lifted his other hand, turning her face gently to the light. “Your colour is returning.”

“Been sleeping a lot, I think,” she said, sighing and shivering as he uncurled his fingers against her cheek, caressing the rising flush. “Bet I have really bad bed-hair.”

Johannes smiled fondly. “You look wonderful, Liebling.”

“Well, yeah, but you have to say that,” she grumbled, but she didn’t fight or protest when he leaned closer and brushed his lips against hers. Her free hand caught the front of his shirt, pulling him closer. “Mm.”

His hands shifting, bracing on either side of her hips, his kisses touched both corners of her lips, then upper and lower lip in turn, tender, teasing.

Then he was pressing her back against the pillows, kissing her deeply, making her arch against him. A low purring growl rolled through his chest as she sank her hand into his hair, nails raking his scalp.

Around them, between them, the blankets were cast aside, tangling in a heap. He moved. Her legs twined around his hips, snaring him completely, his palms sliding against the bare skin.

Only when she winced at the press of his weight against her healing stomach did he draw back from her kiss, barely a hair’s breadth, his parted lips drinking her every panted breath.

With every effort, she forced her eyes open, met dark ones. “Damn it...”

Those eyes glittered with amusement. “Manners, Liebling,” he murmured, tracing a long nail down the back of her bare thigh. She shivered again, hips shifting, and felt his sigh against her lips. “You should rest.”

Letting her head flop back against the pillows, Dawn closed her eyes with a groan. “I hate being all stabbed,” she mumbled, then drew a sharp breath as the tip of a nail slowly traced up her naked throat, light enough to evade burning. “Johannes...”

Instant by instant, she was growing dizzier, her eyes pressed shut. Her pulse was racing, hot, fierce, and she could feel a thread of desire coursing through her that she was pretty sure wasn’t completely hers.

His other hand caressed her thigh, roaming closer to body. “Liebling?” The word was whispered against her trembling lips.

Her fingers knotting in his hair, she clenched her fist, tugging his head back. She heard the growl, but forced herself to focus, blocking, building the walls as Spike had told her, disentangling her own desire from his. “You want me to burst all over you?”

Black eyes flickered and she saw him grasping his own strands of control, could see the ripples in the shadows and highlights on his face. He snarled, but it was softer, frustration and annoyance creeping across his face.

“Ditto...” she whispered, her hand still tangled in his hair. Levelling her breathing with effort, her other hand kneaded at his shoulder.

Above her, Johannes shifted his weight, clearly not quite willing to relinquish his position yet and she wasn’t about to object to the press of parts of his body against parts of hers.

Distraction.

That would be good right now, so she wouldn’t be paying way too much attention to the way that part of him was putting just the right amount of pressure just...

Distraction!

“Herbert!”

Apparently, that was enough to make him jerk back, blinking. “Herbert?”

“Herbert!” she repeated, her voice a little shriller than she intended.

He was staring at her now, thoroughly perplexed as to why she was crying out his son’s name while he was still fondling her thigh. His hand stilled and she swallowed hard, panting softly.

“What of him?” Johannes sounded uncertain.

“Is he okay?” She managed to steel herself enough to draw herself into a half-sitting position, pulling away from his hand. “Spike... he was worried... and Herbert... he was upset about...” She made herself focus, made herself stop thinking about where that hand had been heading. “Is he okay?”

The confusion and consternation gave way to understanding, and she could see him looking at her as she had been looking at him, seeing what he needed to see. “He is better now, Liebling,” he said softly. “We have spoken.”

“K... good...” She exhaled a slow breath, closing her eyes. “And just so you know.” She cracked one eye open to look up at him. “You do anything that dumb again, anything that’ll make Herbert go that crazy, I’ll totally kick your hinney.”

She could sense the warm, tender smile, even if it wasn’t visible, could feel his pleasure at her words, at her affection for his child. “For saving your life, Liebling?”

“And almost getting yourself toasty.” She wagged a finger at him. “S’bad, k?”

His hand caught hers again and he kissed the indignant fingertip. “Understood,” he murmured, then brought his lips gently against hers again, drawing her, teasing her, enticing her to respond.

Several moments later, she forced herself to turn away from his kisses. “Johannes, I can’t,” she whispered, already feeling the ripples of dizziness that had followed when she had tried to divide their emotions. What boundaries she had were shaking and other emotions were filtering out. “I...” She gasped sharply, recollection washing over her, remembering why she had asked about Herbert, images, emotions striking her, making her body arch, tensing. “Oh!”

“Liebling?” Abruptly, Johannes was cradling her, gently as a child. “What is it?”

Clutching at his shirt, she looked up at him, saw. “Johannes, promise me you won’t do anything like that again...” she gasped out, eyes overflowing with moisture that wasn’t tears. She could feel the fabric give under her fingers.

“What is this?” She could see the anxiety, could feel it palpating against her own.

Her other hand sank into his hair and she pulled his face close to hers. “Look.”

Black eyes bored into hers and she saw the pupils flare as he allowed his magic to open his mind to hers. While Spike had been a clumsy connection, formed by her own mind, Johannes reached into her, grasping her with a firm and knowing control.

Herbert was there, stored forever, burned into her memory, her first experience of another’s pain, grief, despair, anguish, and she felt her lover touch the memory with all the shocked pain of someone touching the fire and finding himself burnt.

She could almost see him encompassing the memory of Herbert, watching him crumple, broken and sobbing, could feel his grief at his child’s pain, washing through her as intensely as Herbert’s had.

The connection slipped away so smoothly, so suddenly that she only realised it was gone when Johannes averted his face, his eyes closing. His features were tensed with grief and he held her all the closer.

“I swear it,” he whispered, his voice raw. “Never again.” When his eyes returned to hers, she was stunned to see tears shimmering in them. “If I do, be it by accident or misadventure, you have my leave to harm me however you deem fit.”

Touching the tear slipping down his cheek, her fingers shaking, Dawn felt her own breath shivering. “Oh, Johannes,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around him and holding him fast.

Silently, wordlessly, he buried his face in her hair and she felt him tremble.

__________________________________

Despite the amount of sleep that Herbert had managed to get while curled up against his dad for the last week, it didn’t look like it had been the most restful kind. Yeah, messing around, then sitting in a Jacuzzi could be relaxing, but not to the point where you fall asleep and sink to the bottom.

With some negotiation - because a slippery and half-asleep Herbie was even worse than a slippery and consciously squirming Herbie - Spike had managed to pull him out of the tub, sitting him on the floor and slipping a bathrobe around him.

Leaning against the curved side of the tub, Herbert was watching him drowsily from beneath his lashes as Spike carefully dried every inch of him, right down to the gaps between his toes.

“You look tired, cheri.” Herbert’s voice sounded as soft and sleepy as he looked.

Looking up from the older vampire’s water-wrinkled toes, Spike smiled, but it was lop-sided. “Been a bit of a weird month,” he admitted, leaning closer to wring the water out of Herbert’s hair, towelling it gently. “Tends to knock the sleep-pattern off a bit.” He tossed aside the towel. “You up for walking back to the room?”

Bracing his hands on either side of his hips, Herbert managed to navigate himself upright, staggering but for the arm that slid around his waist. Spike gave him a knowing look, nodding when Herbert placed his arm loosely over Spike’s still-damp shoulders.

“What would I do without you to drag me everywhere, cheri?” Herbert murmured, his forehead resting against Spike’s temple. There was teasing in his words, but such sincerity beneath it that Spike hesitated, turning to kiss Herbert’s water-warmed lips.

“I’m sure you’d manage,” he said, pulling the bathrobe modestly closed. “And then, find some other pretty little bloke with an arse like a ripe peach.”

Herbert laughed lightly, as they made their way towards the door. “One to match yours, cheri?” he murmured. “I doubt such a magnificent example exists anywhere else in creation. Truly, a Masterpiece… the magnum opus of your maker…”

Unable to stifle the chuckle, Spike rolled his eyes. “Trust you to get poetical about my bum.”

“Mm,” Herbert smiled drowsily. “It is so much more appealing than your face.”

“Oi!”

“Alas, cheri, sometimes, the truth hurts.”

“You,” Spike noted, as he guided his half-asleep lover down the stairs. “Are a cheeky git.”

Herbert laughed then pouted. “I compliment your posterior, and you take offence? Alas, I can do naught right, it seems.” He stumbled a little, clutching at Spike’s shoulder. “And see, you even cause me to swoon… does this not speak of my pleasure in you?”

“Just means you can’t walk in a straight line, you daft bugger,” Spike countered, though he shifted his arm and then sighed. “Sod this.” Bending, he slid his arm under Herbert’s legs, lifting him up easily.

With a little effort, Herbert’s arms draped around Spike’s neck and he felt the damp hair brushing against his chest and shoulder. “Mm,” Herbert murmured close to his collarbone. “I feel quite overcome.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “You’re the nonce who went all swoony on me,” he reminded Herbert, running down the remaining stairs lightly and striding quickly along the halls, adamant not to be seen.

Didn’t help that he was naked as the day he was born and Herbert was draped in a froofy white dressing gown.

The Niblet would die laughing if she saw them.

“My noble, dashing hero…” Herbert sighed wistfully.

Stopping dead, Spike gave his lover a reprimanding look. “You keep fannying about like that, you’re going over my shoulder instead, right?” he said, but couldn’t stop a grin at the innocent look, complete with fluttering lashes, that Herbert gave him. “Arse.”

Shifting his head against Spike’s shoulder, Herbert sighed breathlessly.

“That counts, you prat.”

“I said nothing!”

“You didn’t need to.”

Clinging tighter to Spike’s neck and shoulders, Herbert pouted beautifully. “Would you be so cruel, cheri?” he asked. “We are only a little way from our room and it would be dreadfully undignified…” He leaned up a little in Spike’s arms. “And if you toss me over your shoulder, I am afraid I would have to chain you up for a week…”

“You,” Spike turned a grave look down at his lover. “Are a bloody evil git.”

“Guilty,” Herbert beamed up at him, kissing him on the tip of the nose, then sinking back down, his head resting sleepily on Spike’s shoulder. He yawned, but it was a muffled sound, his lips barely parting.

Approaching their room, Spike kicked the half-open door wide, determined to get Herbert tucked up and sleeping properly while he had the chance. Stumbling across the threshold, he knocked the dimmer-switch with his elbow, the light flaring softly.

“Damn.”

Looking down, confused, Spike inquired, “Damn?”

Grey eyes opened and gazed up at him, pale lips curling in a thoroughly sweet and far too innocent smile. “I forgot my bouquet…”

Staring at him, Spike wondered if it was possible to get brain damage from being stuck under water for a few minutes. Herbert’s lips twitched impishly. Spike stared for a moment longer, then caught up.

“Fuck!”

“If you like,” Herbert giggled. “After all, you are the groom…”

Tipping Herbert into the nearest chair, Spike shook his arms wildly as if that might alter the fact he’d just carried his white-wearing lover - whose ring he was already wearing - across the threshold. “You sodding git!”

Delicately arranging himself so that he was upright, Herbert smiled, smoothing his ruffled hair back with one hand. “I did nothing more than lie in your arms, cheri,” he murmured then held out his hands. “Can you help me to bed?”

Grumbling, Spike wiped his hands against his hips, as if it might smear off the not-marriage moment. “No more shagging tonight,” he warned, catching Herbert’s hands and pulling him upright.

“Even if I wished to,” Herbert agreed sleepily, letting himself be lead to the bed.

With an easy tug, Spike undid the bathrobe, pushing it down Herbert’s arms. It dropped, near-silently, to the floor and Spike pulled back the sheets and blankets. “You need me to lift you up there as well?” he said with a roll of his eyes.

Herbert didn’t immediately answer. He took a step towards the bed. Spike caught his arm when he staggered. Grey eyes looked at blue. “It seems so,” he murmured.

Easily lifting Herbert up again, he tipped him gracelessly onto the bed, leaning over him to arrange him more comfortably against the pillows. Unable to help himself, he leaned down and kissed Herbert’s lips.

“This time,” he said, stroking Herbert’s cheek lightly. “Get some proper sleep, all right? No more wandering off. And tomorrow, you eat something proper. No more of this skipping-meals crap.” Herbert nodded, eyes already half-closed. “And you have a bad dream, you wake me up and tell me, okay?”

“Mm.”

Smoothing Herbert’s hair on the pillow, the damp strands drying in soft waves, Spike traced his fingertips along Herbert’s brow, brushing his closed eyelids gently. “Sleep well, love,” he said softly.

Withdrawing from the bed, he picked up the bathrobe, draping it over the back of the nearest chair, then collected his own loose trousers from the drawer, pulling them on with a shirt over them.

A glance at Herbert told him his lover was sleeping, so he picked his way around the room, tidying up discarded cigarette packets, clothes and mugs stained with blood that he had repeatedly forgotten to return to the kitchen for cleaning.

He’d just succeeded in beating the mess into a submissive pile in one part of the floor when he became aware that he wasn’t the only conscious and upright person in the room and turned, freezing at the sight of the Graf standing close to the door.

Yeah, they’d run into a few times in the last few days, but both of them had a lot more on their mind. What with the almost dying and Herbert’s little breakdown, they hadn’t focussed on their last private encounter.

Now…

His throat twinged and he looked wildly across the room at the bed.

Dropping the pile of clothing he’d been hauling to the linen basket, Spike crossed the floor, placing himself between the bed and the Graf, hands clenched by his sides, eyes flashing. Terror was knotting up his insides, but no way was he letting the Boss disturb Herbie, not now, not when he was sleeping for the first time in days.

“William.” The Graf took a step towards him and it took all his trembling restraint not to look away, not to back away.

“Herbert’s sleeping.” He could hear the quaver in his voice, his nails biting into his palms, but he didn’t back off. “I think you should leave him be for now.”

The Graf made no reply, but closed the door behind him, then stepped closer.

Drawing rapid breaths, Spike forced himself to take a step forward. “He needs to rest.”

“I do not disagree,” the Graf said quietly, gazing beyond Spike at the bed. His eyes slid to Spike’s face and he curled his fingers in a wordless beckoning gesture.

Spike flinched, white-hot fear blazing through him. He shook his head tensely.

“William.”

“Don’t,” he whispered, shying back despite himself. Closer to Herbert was better. Meant he couldn’t be bitten again. Meant the Graf wouldn’t be able to do it. Even with Herbert sleeping, he wouldn’t not be aware of it.

The Graf kept moving, closer and closer, until Spike was pressed back against the post of the bed, dark eyes gazing down on him, unreadable, emotionless, everything that Herbert wasn’t.

“Leave us alone,” he whispered. “He’s resting… he needs to rest…”

There was a flicker in those ominous eyes, something he couldn’t quite grasp, and the Graf tilted his head just slightly. “I wished to thank you, William,” he said quietly. “That is all.”

Blue eyes stared at him, wary and bewildered. “W-why?”

The Graf looked down at the motionless form in the bed. “You cared for him,” he said quietly, simply. “Without you, I dare not consider what would have become of my child in the past month.”

Spike felt his fingers sinking into the drapes behind him, wished he could back away further. “Yeah…” he mumbled. “Someone had to… didn’t like seeing him getting worked up like that…” A flare of anger rose in him and he added, “Tried to tell you that, didn’t I?”

The Graf’s eyes closed for a moment and Spike heard the quiet sigh. “Yes. Yes, you did, William,” he said softly. His eyes opened slowly and he looked down at Spike. “Such a thing took great courage.”

Spike laughed mirthlessly, fingers clutching wildly at the bedpost behind him. “Didn’t do me much good, did it?” he whispered. He physically flinched when a long finger brushed against the side of his throat, where he had been bitten so recently. “Stop it.”

“William.” The finger curled under his chin, lifting his face, the emotion in the dark eyes startling him. “Sometimes, in the heat of anger and ignorance, foolish mistakes can be made.”

“Mistakes…?”

The Graf nodded gravely. His other hand caught Spike’s left, releasing it from its linen prison and drawing it up between them. Spike, however, was having trouble looking away from the black eyes that were usually so calm, so neutral.

Not today. Not now.

If he’d ever though the boss put up with Herbert just because he was his son, the look in his eyes, the expression on his face, told him that was definitely not the right way to be thinking about it.

Still, he would have had to have been insensible to ignore the brush of the Graf’s thumb against his ring.

“When your mind lingers on other matters, those closest to your heart are often the ones to be overlooked, overshadowed by that which seems deceptively important.” Spike shivered as his hand was lifted and he watched the Graf’s lips brush his ring, so reverently, so… acceptingly. “Thank you.”

“For what?” The words fell naturally from his lips as he tried desperately to ignore the Graf’s gentle ministrations, long, strong fingers caressing his, making him feel all kinds of twitchy butterflies.

The Graf’s smile was so solemn that Spike found himself staring all over again. “For being in the shadows with him. For caring for him, when I could not.” Spike’s hand was released and gently pressed to his own chest. “For being his.”

He had no words. Not a one. First time in his life and he couldn’t think of some kind of retort or anything. Couldn’t even manage a smile. Lips twitched a bit, but that was about it, his eyes fastened on the Graf’s like they’d been glued into eye-contact.

A long hand covered his own, where it was pressing against his chest. “However,” the Graf’s voice was soft, deceptively calm. “If you cause him a moment of pain…”

“Hey!” Funny how indignation could get you your voice back. “Preaching to the choir, here!” He straightened up a bit to look the Graf in the eyes as best he could. “And you ever leave him in that state again…” Black eyes blazed with dark anger and caution, the growl making his body tense up warily, but Spike didn’t back down, his own eyes flashing gold. “He’s mine. You hurt him, and I’ll find a way to make you suffer.”

The Graf’s expression softened. “He is mine also, William,” he said quietly. “Seeing him hurting is to suffer.” He looked towards the sleeping Herbert, the tenderness on his face astonishing, then looked back at Spike. “I believe we understand one another.”

“Yeah…”

Von Krolock smiled softly, lifting his hand to tilt Spike’s chin up. “Thank you,” he said again, softly, simply, his lips brushing across Spike’s own. “Take care of him.”

“Always,” Spike whispered, saw the gleam of approval in dark eyes as the Graf faded into the shadows.

Remaining where he was standing for a moment, the young vampire’s fingers contracted over his unbeating heart and he looked towards the bed. A faint smile touched his lips and he hastened to draw the curtains, before joining his lover in the bed, gathering Herbert to him.

With a faint, drowsy sound, Herbert turned over in his sleep, a leg draping over Spike’s, one hand sprawling on Spike’s half-covered chest. Bringing his own hand up, Spike threaded their fingers together, tilting his head to kiss Herbert’s hair as he closed his eyes and waited for sleep to come.

_______________________________

He had been awake for some time, though he had slept for several hours. Unmoving, he lay quite comfortably where he was, quietly enjoying the way William’s fingers were combing through his loose hair.

Upon William’s bare chest, their fingers were laced together loosely, resting over his sternum, William’s thumb idly caressing the knuckle of his forefinger and the curve of his thumb.

Though the room was dark, the curtains drawn for once to preserve him from waking early, Herbert could smell the scent of summer rain drying under the warmth of the morning’s sun.

Beneath his cheek, William’s shoulder shifted slightly and Herbert opened his eyes, felt William acknowledge him. “Cannot sleep, cheri?"

William's hand stilled for a moment. "Just thinking about stuff," he said quietly.

“Stuff?” Herbert prompted.

“Stuff.” William sounded so wretchedly tired that Herbert nuzzled his shoulder, squeezing his fingers lovingly. “Mainly about what happened when... when your dad...”

“Ah...”

William exhaled a great trembling sigh. “Herbie, if it had... if they'd both...” The words seemed to catch, unwanted, bitter and vile. When he forced out the whisper, it was barely audible. “If he hadn't managed it... if he...”

It did not need to be said, and Herbert did not need to think on the response.

“I would have embraced the day,” he said quietly.

Under him, he felt William's body tense. “Right...”

Herbert closed his eyes. Despite his efforts to hide it, darling William sounded devastated by that revelation. “Cheri...”

“If you'd gone and done something bloody stupid like that,” William interrupted, his voice clipped. “I’d’ve gone with you, y’know. You don’t...” His voice was trembling. “If I wasn’t enough to keep you here, no bloody way I'm letting you get away that easy...”

“Oh, cheri...” Moving, Herbert kissed William gently, taking his beloved William in his arms and lavishing all his love on the poor, darling creature until they lay, panting, and tangled in one another's embrace.

Half-covered by Herbert’s body, William traced his fingertips lightly up and down Herbert’s spine. “That you making a point?” he murmured.

“That I am a lecherous fiend?” Herbert kissed his throat gently. “William, do I have to say it again?”

William closed his eyes. “Please.”

Touching his lips to his lover’s, Herbert whispered, “I love you.”

“Sentimental poof.”

In a flurry of motion, Herbert rolled onto his back, pulling William on top of him. He gazed up at the younger vampire, his expression quietly sombre. “More than you know, my darling,” he said softly. He sighed, lifting a hand to caress William’s cheek. “I should have explained… my father and I…”

“You’re close. I know.”

“No.” Shifting until he was lying on his side, William facing him, Herbert drew a breath. It had been so long since he had thought of that which needed to be said, the first time he had considered speaking of it. “No, William, you… deserve to know… to understand…” He could feel the blue eyes on his face, yet could not look to them. “As much as I love you, and as much as you are mine, father… he is everything to me.”

“I kn…”

“No!” Stifling William’s words with a fingertip, Herbert shook his head. “No, William, you truly do not.” He forced himself to meet those blue eyes, saw confusion and consternation. “He is more than merely my father. He taught me to walk, to read, to live… when I stumbled, he lifted me… when I wept, he dried my tears…” His hand rose, touching his throat and he closed his eyes. “When I lay, yet mortal and bleeding, he saved me from eternal death with his bite…”

William’s in-drawn breath made him open his eyes. In the twilight of their chamber, he could see the shock and the first traces of true comprehension. Thus, one of the long-hidden secrets of his turning was revealed for the first time in generations.

“Your Sire…”

Herbert smiled sadly. “By force, yes,” he said quietly. “All my life, he swore to protect me, but a time came... I was young, foolish, nowhere near quick enough... and neither was he.”

Though the memory of the attack was dim, he could remember looking at his father in surprise when blood had burst from his torn throat, his assailant mercilessly efficient. He could remember falling, only for his father - distraught and shaking with fear - to catch him, so gently, so lovingly.

“So he turned you…”

Herbert nodded. “I was damned already for my perversions, William,” he said softly. “He had fought so hard to save himself, to preserve us both… I begged it of him.” He could feel his eyes prick with the memory of his father’s grief and despair. “Had he not done so, I believe he would have let the sunlight take him with the dawn.”

“Yeah…” William’s fingertips touched his cheek, catching a tear Herbert hadn’t even realised was there. “You’re his.” He saw the hesitant smile on his lover’s lips. “Blood by blood and all that… kind of makes you his-squared, doesn’t it?”

Unable to help himself, Herbert laughed weakly. “Yes… yes, I suppose it does…”

“Can’t really compete with that, can I?”

“Cheri…”

William touched his lips, silencing him. “Just shut up, you dopey poof,” he said softly. “Don’t have to compete with it, do I? Might not be your Sire or your dad or anything like that, but I’m still yours. Can’t choose your family, but can choose your shag toys.”

Drawing William close to kiss him, Herbert slipped his arms around the younger vampire. “You are far more than that, cheri.”

“Well, yeah,” William smiled into the kiss. “But don’t let word get out. I still have a bit of a reputation to keep.”

“Of course, cheri.” Herbert smiled warmly. “I will spread rumours that you are on top…”

“Cocky git!”

Pulling William against him, Herbert laughed, feeling more at ease than he had for hours and days. “Always and forever, darling,” he said, then kissed him.