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Xanpet
Angel entered The Hyperion ahead of Cordelia by several minutes. It had been an atrocious night in every sense of the word. The Californian rain lashed against his upturned collar and streaked the demon gore, which clung to his coat. They had not killed it. They should never have gone without backup and they had barely escaped with their own lives. Well, her life, his existence.
The hotel was quiet, as one would expect given the hour. Fred had turned in, even before the vision struck. The stench of failure hung about the lobby, that and cigarette smoke.
“What are you doing here?” Angel said to the size nine DMs, that protruded from the sofa and rested on the highly polished coffee table.
“Well that’s bloody charming,” Came the oh so English reply, followed by equally English sarcasm, “Hello Wil’, nice to see you Wil’, how the devil are you Wil’?!”
“Shut up Wil’?!”
The younger vampire stood up and moved towards his Sire. He dropped the cigarette butt as he did so and trod it into the red plush carpet.
“I’m warning you, Spike. I’m in no mood for your antics.” Angel stepped to meet the blond, half way across the room. He knew something wasn’t right. There wasn’t the normal cocky sass that went along with most conversations with Spike. Nor was there the threat of violence, which usually underpinned them. Something was different. There was an air of sadness about the demon.
“No antics, no shenanigans. I…” He could hardly bring himself to say it, “I…” He began again, but never finished. Only vampire hearing could pick up the whistle in the air, and only preternatural reactions could side step the crossbow bolt that winged its way between them, to lodge in the painting behind the reception desk.
“And another old mucker pleased to see me! That or the picture just insulted your hair.”
Cordelia was already notching another bolt into the bow. Angel commanded her to stop. “Go home ‘Delia. This is between Spike and me.”
“But…”
“Just go home. It’s dawn and you need to sleep.”
“Yeah, run along little girl.”
“Well if he makes you into vampire shish kebab again and you dust, don’t come running to me.” And with that she turned on her heal and left.
“Why are you really here?” Angel asked. There was something truly wrong with his youngest. He looked into those clear blue, soulless eyes and saw humiliation and abject misery.
“I’ve come for shelter. I need asylum and I want to claim Childe’s rights.”
The words tumbled from Spike’s mouth. The warrior for the Powers That Be was caught up short for a minute. “But Wil’,” He said gently, “You are not my Childe. I’m not in truth your Sire.”
“You are.” Spike spat back. He pulled his shirt away from his left shoulder. “This claim ‘ere says you are. You marked me. You groomed me for it and took me on when she failed. You made me what I am and then abandoned me. You owe me, you fucker, and you’ll bloody well cough up.” He glared at the other vampire. “Will you grant me what I ask?”
Angel didn’t know what to say. What could he say? Spike took his silence as a rejection, snatched up his bags and headed for the door. He was fast but Angel was faster and blocked his way. “Where the hell do you think you are going? Its daylight out there.”
“Good. Can’t fry in the dark. Just let me go, ponce.”
“Why Wil’? What’s wrong? I’ll help if I can.”
“I told you what I wanted. Now you can just fuck off.” He shoved at the other vampire, but Angel didn’t move. Spike went game faced on him and roared.
“Okay two can play at this,” Angel snarled. Game faced himself now, he snatched the bags and Spike was left holding just the handles. Angel threw the cases into the hotel. Spike was furious. He made a left swing, but Angel caught the fist in his wide palm and tossed him back into the foyer. Still moving, Angel backhanded the younger vampire so that Spike literally flew and landed in a heap.
“If you would just stop…” But Spike was instantly up and a vicious roundhouse kick landed in Angel’s gut. He groaned and doubled up, only to be hit with an uppercut to the jaw. Snarling and hissing, the two vampires continued to fight, until Angel finally succeeded in holding Spike in a half nelson. He pulled hard, painfully dislocating the arm and, placing Spike in a headlock, said, “Okay Wil’, you win. I’ll give you what you want, but you must ask for it. Say the words.”
“Changed me mind in’ I.” Angel wrenched Spike’s head back and held it up by the hair. “Okay, okay, just let me go!”
“Oh I don’t think so, you want to be Angelus’ childe? Well then boy, say the words.”
A master vampire in his own right, Spike had to be at the very nadir of his existence to come to his Sire for this ritual. He had forced Angel to behave appropriately, to take control and force him to submit. Now was the time. Spike began,
“I William, of the Order of Aurelius,
Do hereby claim and desire Childe’s rights.
Owed to me by my Sire, Angelus.
My blood is his blood, his blood is my blood.
As it was in the beginning and as it ever shall be.
I owe him my life, he owes me my death.
Until the debt be repaid, we are bound.”
It had been difficult, more difficult and more painful than he had thought. Angel didn’t let him go either. Through gritted fangs, he growled his formal reply,
“I Angelus, of the Order of Aurelius,
Do hereby accept and desire Sire’s duties.
Claimed from me by my Childe, William.
My blood is his blood, his blood is my blood.
As it was in the beginning and as it ever shall be.
I owe him his life, he owes me his death.
Until the debt be repaid, WE ARE BOUND.”
Angel was uncomfortable with this but the beast within was angry and he snapped, “How do you want to do this, boy, neck or wrist?”
“Wrist.” Spike barked back. They sunk their fangs into each other’s left wrist and, after a short drink, joined the bleeding wounds. The passion and heartache that flavoured Spike’s blood was not unusual. It was the taste of Spike. Only after this did Angel let go completely.
He stared at his wild childe with compassion and bewilderment. He had given Spike what he wanted. Spike had effectively renounced his master vampireship and become a fledge again. He had thrown himself on the mercy of his adoptive Sire, claimed sanctuary under his protection, and Angel still didn’t know why.
Spike wasn’t about to tell him either. With a pained groan he shoved the shoulder back into alignment and then said, “So, Soul boy, where am I kipping? I’m fucking knackered.”