Go TeamC/A
CHAPTER 26 Thousand Oaks Drive, Westbound Lane
Though the sounds of the night screamed for attention Angel tuned them out. The roar of the engine, night air whipping across the metal car frame, and voices carried by the wind faded from his notice. Driving as if on automatic pilot, he saw the way forward, but his thoughts were neither on the road nor his destination.
It wasn’t the mission ahead that kept him distracted. The rescue plan was simple: there wasn’t one. He’d deal with details when he got there. Even then, he was more concerned about what to do with Spike after the rescue. Bringing him back to the mansion when two Slayers were in residence would be like tossing a match into a keg of gunpowder.
With Cordelia’s life still in danger, Angel didn’t need that kind of distraction. None of them did.
But it was going to happen.
He owed a debt to his childe for saving Cordelia. If it wasn’t for Dru’s involvement, rescuing Spike would be his last concern. After all, it wasn’t that long ago Spike tried to kill him. Letting him get what was coming to him might’ve been tempting. That was water under the bridge now. If Drusilla hadn’t acted on visions Angel guessed had to do with his future— and Cordelia’s, he knew Spike wouldn’t have been a target.
Spike’s rescue had become his duty. He swore to get it done. He owed Dru. Besides, whoever had him was trying to track down Cordelia through Spike’s relationship with Dru. That was someone Angel wanted to get his hands on. If there was any chance of finding out who was behind all of this, he had to take it.
He wanted answers. Wanted to stop whoever was behind this whole scheme. Ensure Cor’s safety.
Then he could graciously kick his guests out of the mansion. A little time alone with Cordelia wasn’t really too much to ask. For now, privacy wasn’t going to be easy. Having the Scoobies around gave Cordelia an excuse to avoid certain subjects. Sometimes he caught her staring at him with some unfathomable look on her face that filled him with dread.
She’d blow it all off if he questioned her. Making it seem like he was imagining it all, “Like you don’t have enough to brood about already?” After a patented eye roll she would just put it down to indigestion. Patting her stomach dramatically, “I wasn’t the one who put Xander in charge of the cooking.”
What the hell was so important to keep secret? Angel knew her well enough to back off for a while, but he worried that she had reservations about him or their future as a couple. Whatever it was the idea of him finding out about it scared her. He could sense that much. Dru had been typically vague. Cryptic messages were the norm for her, but this was the first time that Angel really cared about their ultimate meaning.
Maybe the fear he sensed was just his own and his own doubts were getting in the way. Thinking about Cordy roused powerful feelings. Too many of them. Just like the clamor of the night coming at him all at once without the ability to ignore; because it wasn’t just his soul responding, but his demon, too.
Unlike his relationship with Buffy where his human love tangled with demonic hatred and an obsessive drive to destroy any hint of tender emotion, Angel’s love for Cordy garnered no inner opposition. Sometimes he and his demon were a little too much in tune. It just built into a deep sense of love and lust, passion and possessiveness, and a deep-seated desire to wreak havoc on anyone who threatened her.
The steering column creaked as Angel’s grip tightened. Stepping on the gas, he sped through the Main Street crossroads ignoring the sharp blaring horns and screeching tires. Quick reflexes made maneuvering the Plymouth through the traffic easy. He barely spared a conscious thought for it letting his mind wander back to the moment they’d said goodbye.
Even now the taste of Cordelia’s kiss lingered on his lips, the warm imprint of her hand on his cheek still palpable. Angel recalled the concern clouding her lingering gaze as she’d stepped back to let him leave. This was something he had to do. She knew it and let him go without further argument.
Cordelia had waited until he was in the car to say, “Come back in one piece. I don’t do the Florence Nightingale routine.”
Angel had immediately recognized the tone. Saw through it. Sensed the way Cordy tried to hide her fear. This wasn’t the first time he had noticed that she tended to distance herself from anything that might hit too close to home by lashing out with that caustic tongue. Her inner bitch, as she called it, was as much of a shield as it was a source of strength. He was beginning to see that Cordelia cared a lot more about things than she let on.
Despite admitting her feelings for him and being so responsive to his lovemaking, Cordy still put up barriers between them. Those things she kept to herself. Though she gave herself to him so eagerly, trusting in him completely when they were in each other’s arms, there was a point where she held back. He didn’t fully understand what he was sensing. Only that Drusilla’s vision was at the bottom of it.
There was something more that they hadn’t revealed. Whatever it was bothered Cordy enough to keep it secret. And that pissed him off. He didn’t like surprises. It wasn’t like Cor to hold her tongue about anything—or so he thought. Getting to know her was a constant revelation. Every day he discovered new depths, but this propensity for keeping things from him definitely needed to stop.
This was about the future, presumably their future together. He didn’t like the fact that it frightened her enough to hide it.
Faster than he thought possible she’d invaded his soul, seeped deep into his pores, into his very being. It was still early in their relationship. Caught up in the discovery of being in love, it was far too soon to expect Cordy to understand the depths of his need for her. That it wasn’t just human emotion that bound them.
Being with a vampire meant she was in for more than nights of energetic sex. It was also about possession: for a night or forever. What Cordy couldn’t know was that it was already too late. Heart and soul, he loved her, but in the shadowy depths where his demonic urges were constantly restrained, Angel fought a losing battle.
He was beginning to understand what it must’ve been like for his sire who defied the Master to stay with Angelus. Darla was truly obsessed with her ‘stallion’ sticking with him through his bloody escapades and countless infidelities, giving her childe power over her that was in many ways surprising. Until the gypsy curse changed him. That was too much, even for her.
Comparing his love for Cordelia to Darla’s obsession seemed twisted, but this was far more than infatuation. She was the most human person he knew. No one accepted him for who he was like Cordy did, both the human and demon aspects. She had a healthy respect for the dangerous side of him, but wasn’t about to let it frighten her. Now that the loophole in his curse had been closed, there was nothing to fear from Angelus.
For the first time in ages, Angel was starting to think of himself as one person again and not two disparate halves of a whole. Doing so came with complications. He was listening more to tempting thoughts he might have once pushed out of his mind. The instinct to claim Cordelia by vampiric custom grew stronger with every moment they spent together. Just thinking about it twisted him in knots.
Putting his claim on her meant releasing his tight control, letting the demon within him loose long enough to make its mark, trusting himself to do it without getting carried away by lustful whims or sadistic urges.
Reining all that back in was never easy, but doing so when she was in his arms might prove impossible. Oh, the things his demonic side would love to do if there were no restraints. Angel gripped the steering wheel and growled low in his throat. The idea of letting that side of him touch Cordelia in any way repulsed him, but every time he looked at her it was there in his thoughts.
Do it. Just let it happen. You know you will.
Being apart only made it worse. Even now, instead of focusing on the mission ahead, Angel pictured how it might happen. Unable to get Cordelia out of his head, he stopped fighting it. He dreamt up dozens of scenarios all of which ended with his mark visible on her throat.
They were making love…
Eyes closed in ecstasy, Cordelia wrapped her arms around him, holding on to his broad shoulders. Fingernails dug into his flesh as her pleas urged him on. “Make me yours, Angel. I want you forever.” He slid inside her tight heat and tried to give her just that. In full control, he tempered her wild streak slowing things down to let them both savor every second of it.
Nuzzling the smooth column of her neck, he kissed her pulse point tasting the warm skin beneath the velvet of his tongue. Cordelia quivered with her second—no, third, orgasm before Angel made his move. Desire licked low and hard as he kept a steady rhythm, gentle, almost lazy in the way his body thrust into hers.
Angel gazed deep into her trusting eyes. “You’re mine.” An eager purr of agreement sounded he opened his mouth over her throat. Sliding his fangs deep, he marked her as his own.
He was capable of tenderness and gentility, but wondered if it was possible to remain in total control of his instincts. Making love to Cordy was the one thing that seemed to make him lose it. Could he ever maintain that much control? The word ‘impossible’ came to mind. Being honest about it, the odds weren’t good.
This wasn’t just some deluded fantasy to him. Angel realized he was thinking about it as if it was going to happen. The need to claim her was rooted too deep inside him to ignore.
Cordelia’s cooperation was another issue. The act itself wasn’t painless. By design, it was a sensitive area. Visible scars were not exactly her favorite subject though this one would be her choice. His only hope was to distract her long enough to lessen the sting of his fangs.
Planning ahead, gaining her acceptance, managing to maintain a tight hold on his instincts. Some things were just meant to happen when they happened. Maybe this was one of those things. The only way that particular scenario would play out was if Cordelia knew and fully accepted what the mark would mean.
That meant not only finding the courage to explain what he wanted, but risking her negative response. He didn’t think she was ready to make that kind of commitment, which suggested he shouldn’t do it.
Knowing that didn’t exactly mean he could stop it from happening. Without getting her consent, Angel knew there would be hell to pay. Yet the thought of just doing it had considerable appeal. Once it was done, she’d learn to accept it.
They were arguing...
As usual, Cordy thought she had the upper hand just because she was doing most of the talking. Pulse racing, fiery-eyed and confident, she was too tempting to resist. They were in the alley behind the Bronze. Some half-drunk punk hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her and ended up on the floor with a mouthful of loose teeth. She hadn’t wanted a scene.
“I was handling it.”
Angel figured the guy had been doing most of the handling. It wasn’t a trust issue. He knew Cordy’s loyalties were with him. This wasn’t just an issue of jealousy. It had to do with the simple fact that another guy had touched what was his.
That was just too much for the primitive part of his brain that was obsessed with her every breath. Without thinking about the consequences, he walked her back until she was trapped between him and the brick wall of the Bronze. Cordelia continued to mouth off at him, adding that his caveman behavior was a real turnoff.
She was lying about that one.
He pinned her wrists to the brick. No words. No explanation. No warning. A shake of his head as his features shifted, a flash of fangs and it was done before she had time to take a deep breath. Angel released her wrists, gentling her with his hands as her hot blood filled his mouth. He lapped at the wounds sealing his scent deep into in the flesh, a sign to others that she belonged to him.
Especially overly friendly ex-boyfriends.
A slow smirk slid across his mouth. He could definitely see it happening that way. Cordelia could rile him up inside faster than anyone he knew, but she stoked his lust at the same time. That was a dangerous combination. It took a lot of restraint to hold off on the urge to use his hands when they argued.
Touching her in the middle of a fight would be too much of a temptation. Angel didn’t want it to happen that way even though the idea gave his demon a thrill. He wanted Cordelia to be completely aware of what that mark meant and willing to accept it.
They were patrolling…
The thrill of the kill coursed through him as Angel stood over the dead body of the Crosathnam mercenary. He wouldn’t threaten anyone ever again, much less harm Cordelia. The loud crunch of bone as Angel had twisted its neck was satisfying.
Having Cordy watch as he used his strength and skill to protect her was a turn-on. Angel could tell she felt the same. Flushed with excitement, “You looked so hot doing that,” she lifted her mouth for his kiss.
“You’re mine,” Angel stroked her cheek feeling the heat bloom across her skin. “I’d never let anything hurt you.”
Their bodies crashed together like a pair of magnets. He ate out her mouth, stole her breath until she had no choice but to pull away for air. A long hot stare followed and he could see the want in her eyes, scent her arousal. His was like an iron bar tenting his pants. She slid her hand across it and gripped him hard.
It was all they could do to get back to the car. Parked on the far side of the cemetery it was secluded. Not that either of them cared about an audience just then. Their bed was just too far away.
Cordelia climbed into the back seat of the Plymouth and eagerly beckoned to him to follow. “C’mon, Angel,” she dragged him down next to her.
Straddling him, Cordy’s heat centered on his erection giving him a spontaneous little lap dance that fired them up even more. He unbuttoned her blouse in record time, stripping it away, and reaching up to cup her lace-covered breasts in his palms. She shuddered at the sensation of his tongue dipping into her cleavage, and let out a moan of want when he pushed the lace out of the way to toy with a nipple.
They didn’t bother to get naked. That took too much time and they both wanted this now. He yanked her skirt out of the way while Cordy fumbled with his zipper. Angel let out a low grunt as her soft hand closed around his shaft. He reached down to tug her panties aside.
Slowly taking him in, she muttered, “You’re so big this way.” Angel guided Cordelia’s hips down until he was fully sheathed. He kissed her lips softly, instructed her to ride him and guided her into a rhythm that nearly blew the top off his head.
He was close, so damn close to coming. Angel needed more, needed to fill her to the brim, pour himself inside her. More, he needed to taste her, to mark her to show the world that Cordelia was truly his. She was so beautiful, his completely, riding him to ecstasy with her head thrown back, eyes shut tight as she gripped his shoulders for support. All his.
When his mouth lingered at her throat and the teasing nibbles caught her attention, Cordy showed no surprise, only acceptance. Caressing his face, she nuzzled her neck closer, her hand sliding around to run her fingers through the hair at his nape. “Don’t stop. I want it.”
There was no hesitation on either side, just love and acceptance.
Snapping out of his thoughts, Angel realized that he was getting aroused. Cordelia wasn’t even here and he was ready for her. Lately, he felt like a walking hormone around her. All it took was a glance from across the room. Stolen kisses and touches only teased them both.
Angel felt annoyed that the Scoobies were here during this stage of his relationship with Cordy. He longed for nights where it was just the two of them. He missed their time alone together, even when it was just out on patrol. Remembering that trip to the deli where she’d fed him French fries, it reminded Angel just how different he was with her around.
When this was over, he’d have to talk to Cordy about it. Let her know just what she meant to him. He hoped to hell that it didn’t scare her because her fear wasn’t going to stop it from happening one way or the other. Angel wanted his mark on her, to lay claim to her in a visible and permanent way.
He was in deep and knew it.
Angel wanted to go deeper still. Make fantasy a reality in whatever form it would take to make it happen. Tie her to him in ways she wouldn’t really understand or might find shocking.
Hell, it was shocking for him. Angel had never claimed a woman like that. Not even Buffy. Vampires took mates, but rarely human ones. Those relationships tended to be one-sided, the woman being more of a concubine, little more than a slave to the whim of her lover. That certainly wasn’t what Angel envisioned when he thought of claiming Cordelia.
The future was too uncertain. Angel knew that he wanted Cordelia, loved her more than he thought possible, and wanted her by his side. Getting her through this crisis was his primary focus, but the temptation of planning beyond it stirred up new hopes.
Anything resembling a hope for happiness was usually dashed by an influx of guilt. He didn’t deserve it, but that wasn’t going to stop him from reaching out to hold on to it as long as possible. That meant keeping Cordelia safe, and keeping his mouth shut about wanting to make an official claim.
She was about to bury her grandmother. The last thing Cordy needed right now was a possessive vampire hovering over her every move, fantasizing about blood rights and mating rituals.
Angel did nothing to suppress his angry growl letting it roll around deep in his chest. Thinking about it that way trivialized the powerful emotions he was feeling. There was nothing insignificant or meaningless about wanting to claim Cordelia. It meant everything. If only he could make her understand that.
They were on a moonlit beach…
The moon overhead was nearly full and bright as it hit the water along the dockside. Angel had to shake off the temptation of thinking up another scenario. He’d arrived at his destination.
When slowing the Plymouth to a stop, the sounds Angel had blocked out rushed to his ears. Reality slammed into him full force. Seagulls squawked overhead. Waves washed along the ragged shoreline, rusted old barges and the warped pylons along the wharf. Hinges creaked on the old warehouse doors. Nothing out of the ordinary immediately drew his attention—until a scream of pure agony echoed through the canyon of metal buildings.
Instant recognition hit: Spike.
With a single motion Angel bounded from the car leaping over the passenger side door. Vamping out before his feet hit the ground, he felt his facial bones shift, fangs extend, and his body become denser. He crouched low, eyes shifting from ground to building looking for the best path from here to the factory.
The screaming was a good sign. It meant this wasn’t going to be a wasted trip. Spike was still alive to be rescued. More importantly, it meant the one who captured him hadn’t left yet. Drusilla had described vampires, and not the Crosathnam demon that had originally been after them.
It was possible that this cadre of vampires were the ones who’d hired the demon in the first place. Either way, one of them was certain to have more information about Cordelia’s part in this prophesy and Angel was determined to get it.***
Spike squinted at his captor through his one good eye, pain spearing him back from the grim hold of unconsciousness. The cold-hearted bitch was watching him, eyeing the landscape of her handiwork across his skin. Bruises, knots and shallow wounds covered his torso. Blurred vision prevented him from getting a clear view, but he saw the spreading smile and the glint of her fangs as she stepped closer.
“Try that again, luv,” Spike’s speech slurred through swollen lips where a deep split formed. “Don’t think you’ve scratched that itch yet.”
High on causing him pain, forcing his screams and having another master vampire at her mercy, Isobel looked eager for the next round. Chained up, beaten and bloody, there was no doubt he was right where she wanted him. Her almost heady laughter cut through the ringing in his ears.
Thought he was amusing, did she? Through the hazy fog clouding his brain, Spike recalled what she’d done to him. Gritting his teeth against the urge to howl, he noted the slackened chains and lunged forward.
Even though she never flinched, her eyes widened a fraction, and her smile dimmed just enough to make Spike realize Isobel had thought he was incapable of attacking her. Inches away, he was jerked back into place, his arms stretched out above his head, scuffed boots barely touching the ground. Beavis and Butthead, her two pasty faced minions, grunted as he strained against their strength.
Instead of censuring him for trying to rip out her throat, Isobel seemed impressed. An almost dreamy look lit her gaze. Walking up to him, her high heels clicked on the concrete surface of the factory floor. “Aurelius men have such stamina,” Isobel cooed into his ear, her hand brushing over his shoulder, nails digging in just enough to let him feel it. “Don’t fight me, cousin. I can take away the pain. Cooperate. You know what I want.”
The melodic sound of her voice at times soothed and tempered him between acts of sheer malevolence. His shirt was in tatters on the floor, jeans open and clinging to his frame, torso littered with torn flesh and smeared blood. Fuck if she wasn’t turned on by it. Spike could smell her excitement. It kept him sane to know he had that one bit of power over the bitch.
Not that he could do much with it at the moment.
Isobel wanted something beyond the pain: the truth about Dru’s whereabouts. It had something to do with Angelus’ chit, the cheerleader. If it was just a matter of giving up the goods on that feisty little puss, Spike might consider turning tattler.
But she wanted Dru, too.
It only made sense that Peaches would keep his pet close at hand. There was only one place Dru would go during a crisis—straight home to dear old Daddy— and that meant keeping mum about the mansion.
Funny thing was that Isobel never directly asked about him. He half expected her to blabber on about Angelus this or Angel that. Instead, she asked him for details about Cordelia Chase as if she didn’t even know there was a connection. If that was the case, Spike wasn’t about to enlighten her. The less talking he did, the less likely he was to spit out something she could use against him.
Dulcet tones and soft touches accompanied her plea, “Tell me, Spike. Tell me where to find them.” Isobel nipped at his earlobe. Her hand slipped down to the open fly of his pants, her fingernails combing through the dark wiry hair at his groin and getting a reaction.
“Not bloody likely.” A groan escaped. Head tilted back, a shudder of hatred and lust wracked through him. Fuck if he wasn’t getting a bit turned on by it, too.
A headbutt knocked her back. Isobel stumbled away from him, the shock and pain momentarily frozen on her face giving him a thrill. She lifted a hand to her forehead, gaping at him for having the audacity to fight back. Or maybe it was just the fact that he hadn’t fallen for her seduction scheme.
As expected, the bitch made him pay; another blonde bint who had it in for him. Had a good right hook, this one did. His left eye was already swollen shut and felt like he’d been walloped with a tire iron. Not as sharp a jab as the Slayer’s, mind you. Isobel had her own tricks. Liked to play with her nails, claw bloody trails across his skin and let her tongue follow the drops of blood. He’d lost a lot. Felt dizzy with it to the point that he’d almost forgotten this was torture.
There was something familiar about Isobel and her sire. He couldn’t pinpoint it. He’d remember if they’d met before. Snotty bastards and their sadistic mates were hard to forget. He considered that she might just remind him of Darla. The notion turned his stomach. As sickening as the idea of staking one’s sire was to a vampire, Spike wasn’t exactly teary-eyed over the fact that Darla was dust.
Her ivory skin was splattered here and there with red. Lifting a coated finger, Isobel dripped the blood across her tongue as he watched, and then closed her lips around it. She savored it rolling her wet tongue around until every drop was gone. “Mmm, you do taste divine, but playtime is over now.”
The hairs raised on the back of his neck as Spike saw her reach for a nail gun that had been left behind on one of the factory shelves. “My aim might be a little off,” she pointed it directly at his chest and then slowly tracked downward inch by inch, “but some targets are more challenging than others.”
His good eye popped open wide. “Oy!” Spike dodged the first shot by swinging his body out of the way. One hit his thigh, another wild shot lodged in his boot next to his big toe. The minions who held his chains pulled hard to get him back into place as he dodged nails. They were laughing hard which unintentionally released some tension on the chains making it easier for him to move.
Vamped out, he roared in pain as a third nail speared a little too close to its intended target. Isobel’s eyes gleamed with satisfaction. “Got you.” She walked close once his chains were pulled taut again. “Tell me about the pain, Spike. Does it hurt?”
She grabbed the end of the long nail protruding from his jeans and pressed it at an angle deeper into his flesh. Snarling, “It tickles a bit,” he refused to tell her it hurt like the devil. Of course it bloody well hurt. He’d like to take a rail spike to her tender bits and see what she thought about it.
Digging it in a little deeper, Isobel growled back in frustration. “Do you play games with your sire? There’s no safety word here. No chance to stop the pain unless you tell me what I want to know.”
“No,” the guttural sound emerged from his throat barely recognizable to him. “Finish it. Not gonna tell you squat.”
Yanking out the nail, Isobel plunged it into his abdomen again before hurling it to the floor. “Do you have any idea how angry Kalnesh will be if the Pure One continues to elude us? Kalnesh is unforgiving. My sire fears nothing except the power she holds over our future.”
Who the bloody hell was Kalnesh? Spike tried to focus through the searing pain. “You won’t have a future. Gonna see to that myself,” he muttered almost to himself. A slap across his face caught him off guard when his thoughts wandered, imagining encounters in the dark and Isobel’s dust blowing away on the wind.
“Pay attention,” demanded Isobel harshly. “There is but one way out of this, Spike. I need answers. We do not require your sire’s capture for our plan to succeed, only the human. Why do you protect Cordelia Chase, what is she to you?”
Not a flipping thing. He caught himself from saying it managing to twist his words to, “None o’ your business.”
That husky laugh returned as she twirled a finger around the edge of the lower wound where the denim turned dark with blood. Her nails scraped along the fabric covering his thigh, her fingers brushing lightly over his open fly on the downstroke.
A voice came out of the shadows overhead, “Am I interrupting?” a figure standing on a crossbeam that held up the roof. Spike recognized it instantly as Angel’s.
Isobel whirled away to search for the intruder while snapping an order to her minions to stand their ground. They held his chains in place, actually tightening their hold a notch. Spike felt his arms and spine stretch painfully, but he felt invigorated. Though unexpected, Angel’s arrival could mean only one thing: his rescue.
“Lost your bloody advantage now, luv!” Spike grinned for an instant before flinching at the sharp twinge from his split lip.
The swarthy vampire to his right overheard. “There is but one of him, idiota. We are three.”
“Basta,” Isobel gestured for silence. “Do not be foolish, Tomas. Can you not hear the confidence in his voice? Be ready.” Her beautiful face twisted form to that of the true vampire: prominent brow ridges, golden eyes, sharp angles and deadly fangs.
Spike lost track of Angel in the rafters. Moving fast, he sprung agilely from the steel beams down to the floor. The others were just as disoriented and called out warnings each time they thought they saw a shadow. Finally, he stepped into the light, a tall, dark figure draped in black.
While he was sizing up the opposition, Isobel stared at the newcomer, anger visibly melting as recognition struck. An anxious quiver sounded, “A-Angelus?” mixed with anticipation as she took a step toward him. “Unbelievable, it’s really you. Everyone thought you dead it has been so long since your name has been heard.”
“Only everyone who was anybody”, Spike cut in. If Angel’s instincts weren’t rusted solid, he’d realize that Isobel was twittering like a star-struck schoolgirl meeting Billy Idol for the first time.
Angel’s gaze narrowed as it slid from Isobel to him. It looked like Captain Boring was not amused by his little attempt at levity. Hell, he was the one who was captured in order to give Drusilla time to escape, chained and beaten, nearly seduced into telling everything. If he wanted to joke about this sodding rescue attempt, he deserved it.
“You’ve got something that belongs to me.” That wasn’t exactly how Spike would’ve put it, and tried not to chuckle at Angel’s attempt at playing master. But who was he to complain if it got him out of these chains and back to Drusilla’s side. “Release him now.”
With a nasty little smile, Isobel walked back to Spike’s side. She stepped under his chained arms. “Secure him,” the quiet orders were given to her lackeys. To Spike, she stepped closer, ran a hand along his chest from behind and whispered, “Ruin this for me and I will have your head.”
Isobel was off again to chat it up with Angel pretending to consider his release. Spike knew better. He hoped Angel had half a brain to figure that out.
“Angelus, I have waited too long to meet you,” her hips swayed seductively as she walked. “My sire has told me many tales of your escapades. There are few who can rival your vicious deeds. I have been eager to discover more ever since I met Darla. She claims you are quite the stallion.”
Did she really think he was going to fall for that load of crap? Oy, Peaches here was still Angelus deep down: ego incarnate. And this new groupie was another piece of blonde fluff. The odds weren’t good.
“You have the advantage,” Angel moved closer though clearly keeping an eye on all three of them. He must’ve realized that while Isobel was unknown to him, her sire was someone he had known in the past as Angelus. “Who is your sire?”
Spike noticed that she wasn’t so quick with the introductions. Playing coy, Isobel just smiled. “One who will not be pleased if I am harmed. Angelus, please believe that we had no idea you were in Sunnydale.”
For once, Soul Boy wasn’t denying his rightful name. As long as Isobel didn’t sniff out the fact that Angel had something extra on board, it looked like his bluff might work.
“Would knowing have made a difference?” Angel looked like he couldn’t give a crap one way or the other. “I’m here for Spike. Release him.”
Isobel shrugged one shoulder. “Now that you are here I need him no longer. I do not need him to tell me where to find Drusilla. If you are here, then it means she went to you. I presume there are a number of locals who know of your lair.”
Sodding hell! The chit wasn’t stupid. She was putting the pieces together too fast for Spike’s liking. Angel wasn’t too keen on it either if the dark look on his face meant anything. Knowing where to find Drusilla meant they could find Cordelia, too.
Before Isobel could say anything else, Angel wrapped his big hand around her throat dragging her from the ground so that her tiptoes barely touched the concrete. The menacing look on his face was enough to frighten almost anyone. Isobel looked like she was creaming her panties instead. Choking the bitch couldn’t kill her, but it hurt like hell and made it hard for her to talk.
Angel obviously didn’t like her knowing where to find his luscious little kitten.
The two goons ran up to flank them. Angel hardly twitched in response to their bared fangs. He flung Isobel through the air directly at the one on his left. She screamed in fury, probably at the indignity rather than the pain as they crashed to the floor in a heap.
With a quick extension of his arms, two stakes appeared in Angel’s hands. He whirled to attack the second vampire. Spike was actually impressed even though he’d never had much reason to kill his own kind in the past. The nifty armaments almost made Old Broody Pants look cool—not that he’d ever admit thinking it.
Though caught off guard, his opponent was quick to parry the first blow dodging the next with equal efficiency. He sensed they’d been around for a while. These weren’t ordinary blokes by any means. They’d captured him, after all, reasoned Spike.
Never one to sit on the sidelines, even when chained, Spike urged, “Put some muscle into it, Peaches. That’s the ponce who nearly tried it on with Dru before Blondie over there put a stop to it.”
Angel didn’t need instructions, but it felt too damn good to finally see Isobel and her goon squad get it where it hurt. This one was fast, but he tried to get too fancy. The bugger tried some jujitsu move that Angel was more than qualified to counter. Angel got him as he flipped through the air and sent him to the concrete flat on his poncey face.
Plunging one stake into his heart, Angel held the other one up defensively as Isobel screeched for her remaining underling to attack. Spike noticed her voice was hoarse from the squeeze put on her throat and wished he’d been the one to do it. One big difference, though. Kept squeezing, he would have done.
A cloud of dust exploded around them, billions of tiny bone shards and ashen flesh. Instead of settling slowly to the ground, it billowed through the air when the other guy made a steamroll move in Angel’s direction. A blur of motion tumbled them onto the floor. It knocked him hard against a piece of heavy equipment.
Good job it was his just head that got knocked around. Angel wedged a leg between them hurling him off. Spike’s gaze followed right along watching him crash on top of the table with a heavy thunk. Its wooden legs broke and the table fell sending Dru’s favorite china cup to the concrete floor.
Cringing, he saw it shatter into a hundred pieces. First the doll, now the cup. Dru was going to be in a right rotten mood when she found out about it.
When Spike focused on the fight again, he noticed that the stakes had disappeared back into the devices bound to Angel’s forearms. Now it looked like he wanted to make a point with his fists. Angel actually let him get back to his feet only to make him pay for it. Powerful punches bloodied his face staggering him.
Efficient jabs made Angel’s moves seem practiced as if beating the other vampire to a pulp was something he did day after day. He lowered his fists purposely leaving his guard down to draw his opponent in, taunting him when his movements got clumsy.
Anger turned furious when Angel kicked his legs out from under him. All but daring him, “Want to try that again?”
Isobel circled around them, watching every move. She bent down to pick up one of the broken table legs. Instead of coming up behind Angel, she left her man to his fate—which was going to be getting dusted as soon as Angel quit toying around. If Spike didn’t know better, Peaches was taking out a little bit of revenge against the poor sod.
“He’s magnificent, isn’t he?” Isobel’s husky voice came too close for comfort. She was back beside him. He’d lost sight of her while watching the fight.
Spike tried to shrug, but his arms were pulled tight by the chains binding him. “If you like that sort of thing,” he hesitated answering. Silly bint.
Her answer was almost a purr, “Oh, I do.”
“Just a hint, Issy,” Spike glared irreverently. “If you want to keep that pretty face, I suggest you give him whatever he wants.”
Growling at him, Isobel dragged the jagged edge of the table leg across his cheek. “You?” The trail left a trickle of blood. “The Angelus I know would leave you to rot. I know there is more to this than just saving your skin.”
Spike ignored the prickling pain and the distraction of the ongoing fight. “Gonna give you a bit of advice. Take ‘Gelus off the ruddy pedestal before it falls on you. He’s got an agenda. Whatever it is has got sod to do with me. There’s only one thing on his mind and she’s leading him around by his—,” he broke off suddenly realizing that he had said too much.
He knew it the moment the words were out of his mouth that Isobel was filling in the blanks. “Drusilla,” she offered up the suggestion. It made sense—if you were part of someone else’s clan, the sire acting on behalf of his childe. “She wants you back.”
“Don’t doubt it.” He wasn’t so sure about that bit. After all, she’d left him for a Chaos demon, used him to get back to Sunnydale, and talked about him leaving her like it was some foregone conclusion.
“Angelus would never let his childe rule his actions.” Isobel turned to watch the fight for a moment before concluding, “He’s not just here for you. It’s the girl he wants.”
Spike’s eyebrows quirked up in surprise at the confidence in her voice as she linked Angel to his pretty little pet. “The girl Dru brought home?” he tried to look bored. “Can’t really say. Had a right hard-on for the Slayer last time I was in town. Sexy little blonde, like you.”
“Nice try,” Isobel purred stroking his injured cheek. Bitch was too close for comfort, both physically and in getting to the truth. The fact that she knew it, too, was clear when she gave a little shudder and smiled. “There’s no need to lie to me, Spike. I’ll just ask him myself when he’s finished with Tomas.”
She was a cold-hearted little bint, he thought, but noticed her eyes stray toward her companion. A hint of regret flashed across her face vanishing just as quickly. “You do that.” Spike had a feeling if Isobel even mentioned Cordelia’s name she was going to get an answer she wasn’t expecting. “Remember what I said, luv. Give the man what he wants. If it’s the girl, you can find another one. Plenty o’ them around Sunnyhell.”
“Not like this one.” Isobel smirked when he didn’t bother to deny it. “Cordelia Chase is one of five who possess the power to secure our future. You cannot imagine what it will be like. Perhaps Angelus does not know what he wants,” she added cryptically making him wonder what she had up her sleeve.
Spike didn’t know much about Angel’s chit except that she was a lot easier on his eyes than his ears. “What power?”
There was a moment of hesitation before Isobel admitted that she didn’t know all of the details. “The girl is to be sacrificed. That is all that matters. I prefer to dwell on the outcome.”
That was motive enough for Angel to dust her if she didn’t give up the goods. He knew that Angel wasn’t here just to rescue him. Maybe that was his secondary objective, but the first would be to get any bit of information out of Isobel that he could.
“Which is what?”
Isobel turned away from the fight again. After a short pause to look him over, she tucked the broken table leg under her arm to free up her hands. Spike was about to call foul when she headed straight for his fly, but she only zipped it up and then fastened the two remaining buttons on his shirt. That wasn’t going to hide anything. If she wasn’t so close to telling him what the hell was going on, Spike would’ve vamped out and bit her nose off.
It was just a matter of time before Angel had her back in his clutches. He only hoped the soul wouldn’t get in the way of ripping this bitch’s heart out.
“My sire and all my kinsmen will receive the power we’ve been promised. That should interest him enough to join us,” Isobel sounded smug about it. “Had I known Angelus was in Sunnydale I would have convinced my sire to approach him.”
It sounded like something that Angelus would’ve jumped at—except for the fact that he didn’t play well with others. A shot at real power might be enough to get him to toe the line for a while. But Angel wasn’t exactly interested in the same things as he used to be. “You sayin’ that ‘Gelus gets it, too?”
Lifting the splintered wooden shard to dig into his skin again, Isobel grabbed onto his ear. Whispering into it, “Yes, cousin, and so would you.”
Stunned at her revelation, Spike was confused. He’d figured she was lying. This was just some trick to get him to talk. Isobel was hinting at a connection between them, Angelus and her sire. He didn’t know enough about the history of the Aurelius Clan to call her on it. The here and now had always been more his thing.
If he thought she was telling the truth, he might actually consider listening. This had to be her way of making a play to get out of here. Angel was about to cut down her last line of defense. Things were about to get bad for Blondie if she planned to get between Angel and his curvaceous kitten. That wasn’t the safest place to be.
Spike warned her, “He won’t give up the girl.” There was no use denying it now. If he didn’t say something, Angel was going to in a matter of minutes. Might as well use it to see where the information led. “If he came here for her, then it means she’s on the loose. If it was for me, then he’s already got her.”
“There must be a way to convince him,” Isobel husked conspiratorially. “If Angelus joins us, so must you. I promise you will gain all that you desire.”
First it was torture. The seduction routine followed. Now she was playing on good old fashioned greed. “Not a bleedin’ chance.” Isobel’s sire had something up his sleeve that involved Dru. And she wouldn’t be so quick to think the former King of Wank over there would hand over his new bed warmer if she knew about the soul.
He decided to put an end to their little game. “Just so there’s no misunderstanding,” Spike added smugly, “if he doesn’t crush your scrawny neck, I will.”
Isobel looked stunned for an instant. She recovered well, but was unable to hide her angry pout. Taking a step back she pointed her weapon directly at his chest. “You’re in no position to make threats.” Then glancing over her shoulder at the ongoing fight shrugged, “Angelus is rather busy just now. Want to bet he won’t get here before I dust you?”
The crunch of bone sounded as Angel put a sudden stop to the fight. He’d signaled Spike to keep the conversation going once Isobel started to talk. Just how long did the chit think it took to take down one of her goons, anyway? It probably took more effort not to kill him. Guess he’d heard enough, or at least decided that this was still a rescue mission after all.
“’Bout bloody time,” Spike muttered.
Distracted by the moaning vampire on the ground, Isobel whirled around to see what had happened. “Tomas,” she cringed as he writhed in agony barely able to hold back his screams of pain.
A broken back wouldn’t kill the vampire, but it would stop him from running out of here. He’d serve as a spare witness if Isobel wouldn’t give up the goods on her sire’s plans. Spike had to admit he wouldn’t have bothered to keep him around.
Angel met Isobel’s gaze. He made no grand threats. “Come here.”
To Spike’s surprise, she actually obeyed the command without question and dropped the makeshift stake as a show of trust. “I invite you to join us, Angelus. You will gain more than you ever dreamed.”
“That includes you?”
She took the question seriously stepping even closer. “Yes. Nicolau indulges. I play with whomever I choose.”
Meaning shagged until they both lost consciousness, Spike interpreted.
If anything the mention of her sire’s name made Angel’s already stony appearance grow colder. He grasped onto her hand and wrist with a swift move closing around them to twist it behind her. “I’m not interested in your kind of games or your deals.”
“You refuse me?” Isobel gasped indignantly and started to make a serious effort to struggle against his hold. Now that she realized this wasn’t actually foreplay, but a real threat.
Spike couldn’t believe the chit was still standing. “Just kill the bloody bitch.”
Captain Forehead apparently had his own agenda. He didn’t even look Spike’s way.
“I have a message for your sire—Isobel, isn’t it?” Knew her sire, knew her name.
Her teeth rattled when he gave her a hard shake. A little rough handling was just what she needed to get her attention. She was a vampiress, after all, not quite as breakable as human women. He knew what buttons to press to get her to listen.
Isobel hissed, “Yes, Angelus.”
“The name is Angel,” he growled it. “Listen carefully. Here’s what you’re going to say…”
TBC…
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