Rating: Mature Audiences – for content and themes
Summary: Post WWIII and 250+ years on from the Black Thorn. Highly refined, purpose bred ‘Companion’ Alexander is ‘liberated’ by feral humans, consequently rescued by the Suzerain Spike’s forces, the head of which decides to ingratiate himself by presenting his Sire with a boy reminiscent of one of the former Scoobies.
Spoilers: Canon is AU - very post S5 AtS.
Warnings: M/M – if you don’t like boys together, don’t play here!
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.
Alexander woke facing his beloved Claimer, a pale hand gently stroking his arm and azure eyes examining his features adoringly.
“Mornin’ Pet,” was followed by the softest of kisses, then both simply relaxed into a drawn out session of quiet petting and tender words. Spike finally offered his open wrist and slid his fangs into his wonderful Companion’s willing throat, before the relaxed mood brought another peaceful round of fond, familiar caressing, languid kisses and the conversation of a happy, established couple.
The Companion was always thrilled when… Spike… his Claimer, the Suzerain… asked for his opinion on some important Cartel matter; when he opened up to Alexander about his worries, his fears, his hopes. Alexander was always amazed and adored William the Bloody all the more when the blonde vampire spoke, often sadly, of snippets of his life prior to the blackening. But today was not to be one filled with Cartels or history, and Alexander focused carefully, as he always did, as he was told of the evening to come and his expected role – the ‘act’ required was always critical!
This night Angelus and Lisbeth would accompany Spike and Alexander on a recreational ride on Spike’s most favourite form of traditional transport, ‘motor bikes’. The dear Companion had no idea what that meant so simply smiled and nodded as he was reassured by the last statement, “’N you’ll be sittin’ behind me… gotta hold on mind… but you don’t need to worry about a thing.”
Minutes later, the Suzerain and the now rather nervous Companion, approached Angelus and Lisbeth across the underground carpark of their abode. The Favourite Childe and his mate were both dressed in stylish black leathers and leaning against one of two replica motor bikes in a loose embrace, chatting quietly. Spike smiled. The tenderness he observed in private between his First and the mated Childe Lisbeth was always a source of joy. And somehow, despite the need for the public deception, or possibly because of it, the dedication to family and love between the three vampires in private seemed to increase by the day, as did the fondness for his dear Claimed, Alexander.
Angelus grinned into Lisbeth’s shoulder then turned and both gave a small bow of respect to his Sire as the Suzerain approached. He knew how much Spike adored the thrill of the old fashioned mode of transport. They had planned this for weeks and arranged every possible detail. It would look like they left with an entourage but in fact there would be no body guards or usual cavalcade of vehicles… just them, riding fast and wild on the winding hill roads and occasional straights beyond in the dead of night.
Of course the bikes weren’t *quite* like their counterparts in the twentieth century despite the effort made to have them look genuine. They now ran on hydrogen, so had special exhausts built to sound like the ‘real thing’, and unsurprisingly, their performance was rather better than their ancient originals. They were ridiculously expensive to acquire, but the two bikes had been a ‘gift of penance’ from the South East cartels to the Suzerain some month or so before (in addition to paying the back tribute debt of slaves, precious metals and gold to worth several million dollars), a deal that was graciously accepted.
Until this moment, the Companion Alexander had only ever been transported in stock vehicles, and of late had just become accustomed to kneeling at his Claimer’s feet in the armoured, multipurpose, luxury transport of the Suzerain. Nevertheless Alexander dutifully followed his Claimer, suppressing a frown as they approached the vehicle.
The ruling vampires were all aware that they were still within sight of a number of minions monitoring the compound’s cameras, so Alexander simply stood as his leash was handed to Lisbeth to hold while Spike chatted to his First. Lisbeth pulled the Companion toward a pile of leather on the floor and began to dress him. No leather pants per se but what looked like a pair of black chaps were strapped over his thin cotton pants, and vintage black motorbike jacket for protection. His feet were pushed into a pair of boots then a black helmet was fitted on and he was ready.
When Spike had mounted his bike, Lisbeth led the Companion over and handed him over. The nervous shaking and reluctance to get on the back of the bike was no act for anyone monitoring the scene, the Suzerain eventually growling a little and tugging on the leash. “Come on, just get on the bloody bike and hold on.”
Alexander responded instantly to the direct order and settled himself behind the vampire, wrapped his arms around the Suzerain’s waist and held on for dear life as the two bikes sped off into the night flanked by four regular armoured cars.
A stealth vehicle tracked the progress of the group for a time but somehow lost the two bikes as they descended to a lower level of the city via a long tunnel, a blackout region for any tracking mechanism. The interference and shielding was largely to safeguard the demon population below from any catastrophic electromagnetic radiation from the surface. Frustrated, the attempt to target the Suzerain et al was aborted.
Alexander was so terrified initially that he did not even dare open his eyes, but eventually, as they stopped winding through traffic and the road evened out, he lifted his head a little and looked over the strong, leather clad back of his beloved Claimer just as the Suzerain pushed edged their vehicle a little faster. And suddenly the ride became… exhilarating.
Spike could feel Alexander’s heartbeat through the two layers of leather, and so, as they accelerated into the night, felt his passenger slowly shift from terrified to aroused.
Eventually the Companion realized he should lean into corners and move fluidly with the driver of the bike. As his enjoyment built so his arousal rose. His legs may have been protected but all that was between his nether regions and his Claimer’s tightly leather clad backside was the gossamer thin cotton of his ‘pet’ pants. He was a little worried that the Suzerain would feel his increasing arousal as it pressed against the vampire’s back but could not move anywhere, and he certainly did not seem to be able to coax it to recede. It was made all the worse as they approached the outer reaches of the ‘civilized’ areas.
The road was empty, and stretched out for miles into the countryside before them, farms owned by individuals but controlled by the local cartel stretched in every direction as far as the eye could see. Alexander recognized the signs, the agriculture was all about food, not the refined breeding lots like Natte’s stud north of the city – a far prettier, greener terrain than this western region. These lots were all about blood and flesh provision. If they rode far enough, Alexander knew they would move beyond the civilised areas and enter areas left waste after the blackening. He shivered at the thought of the feral humans living there but was dragged from his thoughts as the First drew up alongside his Sire and nodded just enough to convey the challenge.
Alexander saw Lisbeth grip a little tighter and followed suit as Sire and Childe opened their throttles and pushed their bikes to the absolute limit on the open road. No one won per se, the aim being the thrill of the race, rather than who triumphed. The two bikes halted mid road around two hours from the city.
An hour later found the four sitting on a small rise staring up at the half moon, Suzerain and First side by side, their partners settled between their legs. Spike fed Angelus then gave a little to Lisbeth and allowed Alexander to tend his bite mark with a loving tongue. He was then offered and took a little blood from Childe and Grandchilde, and then from his devoted Companion.
Alexander had never felt quite so close to the Suzerain as in that moment. There was no feeling of subservience or inequality, he was accepted and loved. As though to confirm it, Lisbeth held out her hand and smiled. When he grasped the thin elegant fingers and accepted the gesture of friendship and family, she kissed his palm then relaxed back, and they sat hand in hand as their vampire partners talked quietly. It was the embodiment of contentment.
The ride back was uneventful, though their greeting as they re-entered the compound was not.
Urgent messages had been repeatedly sent from Sean, leader of the small Irish cartel and now sanctioned breeder of magically able humans. Apparently a very organized group of ferals had and was attacking farms all over the region and in fact targeted his breeding facilities the previous night. Sean had retrieved as many of his humans as he could, but there had been a large number of casualties.
The Suzerain call for an emergency meeting – a conference call rather than face to face - to ascertain if the incident was isolated or had actually spread beyond the Ireland-of-old’s shores, if the latter, then another round of culling of the humans was probably necessary.
It had happened before in various places around the globe. A few good seasons was all it took, the build up of food giving rise to all manner of feral creatures procreating. In the farming context, good weather and masses of food was a bonanza, but the farmers also knew to moderate their stock numbers or risk a glut – or worse, have to eliminate excess stock for little or no profit. Unlike the wild humans, the farmer demons had the advantage of longer term predictions for weather trends, and the ability to take their stock to underground silos and feedlots when the surface became too unliveable.
Sadly in the wild, humans like most of the mammals, produced more children when the times were good, but unfortunately humans grew slowly and fluctuations in the weather caused food shortages and fights for territory. Once the situation became dire, the violent members of the wild human groups had a tendency to murder the ‘other’ of their own species, those they didn’t consider equal in some way. The killing frenzies often wiping out whole areas and occasionally spilled over into demon territory. Young demons had grown up with the horror stories of over seven thousand years of recorded human history detailing the brutal nature of the species and in the immediately past millennia or so, its disregard for the earth.
Most cartels were reluctant to declare an open season on the feral population, but in the past, sanctioned rounding up and culling of adults in circumstances where there was a genuine infestation had certainly been endorsed. The Irish situation was certainly on that scale and had the added element of predetermination regards the targeting of farms. The attacks were well organized with overwhelming numbers of feral humans, and peaceful farmers and their stock the hapless victims. Not only that but the ferals in the region did not aim to free the farmed humans (as in other areas) – they simply killed them.
The entire zone was declared in a state of emergency, troops were deployed and a decision was made. Two days later an entourage including the Suzerain, the First and Lisbeth plus a number of other influential cartel leaders in Spike’s inner circle, various guards, and, of course, his Claimed Companion (still referred to in most circles as ‘the disgraced one’ even though the treatment of the same had improved) arrived.
They landed via private plane to be greeted by a tearful Sean. He fell at the Suzerain’s feet in a low kneel, pressed his temple to the ground then bared his neck. Spike didn’t miss the salty scent of tears, nor the anguish marking the dear leader’s blood.
The Suzerain opened his wrist and allowed the Cartel leader a little blood before shifting the exhausted Sean into the arms of his staff, and listened patiently to the statistics of the most recent battles. Within the hour the Suzerain’s mercenaries along with several hundred local demons took off into night. Three hours later the reports of engagement with various feral groups began to come in.
The majority of decomposing bodies had been piled and burned on the properties where they were found. Five hours after the troops left, and just before dawn, the transports began to come back carrying truckload after truckload of exhausted demons… Other vehicles in the convoy had more gruesome cargo, dead human flesh. Most bodies were only a day or two old and from the breeding farms. They were only brought in so their owners might identify the breeding lines wiped out, courtesy of the raids. There had been other, fresher bodies, feral raiders eliminated by the Suzerain’s forces as the renegade humans luxuriated in their new, short lived positions of ‘power’, but those corpses were processed on the spot. The flesh and bone ground and buried to fertilise the soil so others might feed in future.
Distressed demon families grieved as they confirmed the identity of their now deceased stock. Favourite stud males, companion geldings and young females all brutally slaughtered. Many of the dead female breeding humans had been pregnant, and there was a very distressing pile of tiny bodies in the rear of two vehicles. It seemed that the ferals had adopted a ‘kill all’ policy, murdering innocent children with apparent abandon. Spike grasped Sean’s shoulder and squeezed hard as tiny bloodied body after violated little body was lifted from the trucks to be placed on the ground in a gruesome row of death.
The culling of ferals would continue for the next five days. The killings were swift and merciful compared to the brutal tortures and cruel methods used by the humans on their own. The short sharp sting of a dart followed by a deadly bolt of electricity burning out the hypothalamus killed instantly. The blood was tested then (if acceptable) harvested, and the remainder processed and fed to the earth like the majority of the ferals’ victims.
The presence of the Suzerain and the support shown was not lost on the demons under Sean’s rule. The young cartel leader was well liked and respected, and as the small number of surviving stock were gathered and returned to their owners, the other demons began to pay tribute. The Suzerain’s forces would stay for month at least, and other cartels had promised stock to replenish the loss of breeding females. The cartel was grateful.
Despite his brave front Sean was dealing with his own grief. He had identified sixteen of his eighteen red headed breeding females and both stud males amongst the murdered.
The humans had never been mistreated on his farm, indeed they had been coveted for their magical abilities and trained accordingly. The women had been allowed to keep their children with them in a crèche like arrangement… yet now… only two females remained alive. Estelle had been wounded and lay for two days under the bodies of her dead sisters before being found, yet now rallied as she saw her owner. Kerryn had a similar story. Sean introduced both the surviving pregnant humans to the Suzerain. They would now have the responsibility of being the mothers of the line.
After the initial culling, the Suzerain and Companion, along with a large entourage of troops ventured out to inspect the cleansed areas on the third night.
Wandering through Sean’s second breeding farm, they came across one tiny survivor who had eluded both attackers and rescuers. A tiny red headed girl around two, with huge green eyes and thumb firmly in her mouth, wandered toward the Suzerain’s party zombie-like, dragging a small blood drenched blanket. When Alexander paused to look at her, she stumbled forward, dropped the blanket and grabbed at his hand with a tiny bloodied fist.
The Suzerain recognized the magical signature of the small girl and felt his Claimed’s emotional state as Alexander handed the little girl to him. Spike knew the signs. He found the tiny being quite endearing – particularly as, even when the ruling vampire had fallen into game face, the little child had merely patted him then snuggled into his embrace trustingly. Sean noted the apparent affection the Suzerain displayed for the small red head and made a decision.
Within five days the cull had concluded and been a success, and extra funds had been promised the cartel farms to aid in their replenishing stocks.
As the Suzerain (William the Bloody) made to depart, Sean produced a small cage containing a minute human figure wrapped in a blanket and resting on a tiny soft mattress.
“I thank you Suzerain. In our hour of greatest need, you once again proved the most magnanimous of rulers. I wish to offer you the only child remaining of the Witch Willow’s true line. Should you wish to breed from her in years to come, I pledge the seed of the most powerful male wiccans and best human stock I can find. Please Suzerain, take of me in thanks and as fealty to you great leader.”
Spike’s true face emerged and he took a ceremonial sip in the presence of the court, before whispering for Sean’s ears only, “Be well brother. You are ours to protect. I ask only that you answer to my call should our cartels be in need of you.” Spike then opened his wrists with a shallow bite and allowed Sean a small taste.
Sean laved the wound closed before pledging, “I am yours to command, Suzerain.”
The Companion carried the cage containing the sleeping Lillie to their transportation. As soon as they were en route, Alexander carefully opened the cage and lifted the minute body to his own chest, earning him a pat from his wonderful Suzerain, and a sigh from Lillie who, even in sleep, felt the strong, loving arms envelop her.