rngrdead (rngrdead) wrote in bloodclaim,

Never TIme Enough # 6

Title: Never Time Enough

Author: Part 1 50ftqueenie… then rngrdead – Ch 2 and beyond

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Warnings/Squicks: M/M relations, torture etc.

Rating: Mature Audiences? – for content and themes.

Summary: Xander comes back from the past with a secret.

Note From 50ftqueenie: This can stand on its own as a ficlet, but honestly I know there's more to this story. Eventually I might revisit and do my own version….

Part 6

The household changed as Darla and entourage swept into their abode.

Xander was again confined to Wil’s bedroom. Sometimes his bound form was trussed and placed uncomfortably facedown on the bed for hours in case the Grand Dame happened into the room, at other times he was apparently part of the ‘dinner and a show’, there apparently to merely satisfy Wil’s perversion.

After three weeks, Angelus was almost entirely occupied with Darla’s demands apparently the little ‘tit for tat’ extending to a four day torture episode that included binding his nether regions in a way that would have killed any human – as much through the inability to pass water as blood restriction or failure to release.

Dru came to William’s rooms to sit and sing, take tea with her dolls, and have her hair done. Xander appreciated more and more, just how sweet William could be. The woman was clearly deranged yet he continued to humor her, accompanied her as she sang meaningless ditties which Wil managed to mould into pretty ballads or at least tuneful whimsy to please his Sire.

Dru sometimes arrived at Wil’s rooms in incoherent distress or bearing bleeding evidence of her Grandsire’s baseless ire. At those times, Angelus was nowhere to be seen and Xander began to feel rather sorry for Wil’s version of his GrandSire, a man inclined to compliment his young relative and be content with an evening of poetry reading or harpsichord; an elder who really seemed to value Wil’s shyly offered opinion of a certain passage of prose, ask his Grandchilde offer his critique of the latest of Angelus sketches (albeit many were rather ‘debauched’ though aesthetically stunning in their detail); or interpret one of the more obscure of Dru’s ramblings.

It was with sadness that the Sunnydale Xander realized the truth of Liam… aka Angelus… a human not so far from himself, a rather simple country boy with good looks, an athletic prowess… not particularly that successful in love but with a genuine talent for ‘making things’ and a love of fine art, all wasted according to his father. And by the fact of his place, status and year of his birth… unlike Xander at least finding something with the Scoobies, Liam had fallen into the hands of... 'wicked, nasty Grandmama' (as so eloquently put by Drusilla).

Xander thanked whatever deities looked after bound and gagged human playthings for vampires in the late nineteenth century, for the fact that he was lying comfortably on his side facing *away* from Wil and the upset Grandsire.

Angelus had arrived in ‘his Wil’s’ bedchamber some month or so into Darla’s return, and though Sunnydale Xander was so far from a fan of the dark vampire as to name himself cheer leader for the gypsies’ ensoulment squad, Wil’s pleasure human felt genuine sympathy as the dark vampire threw himself on the bed and began toying with Xander’s restraints as he spoke.

“Undo yer boy Wil, no reason for us all t’ suffer… I thank ye fer keepin’ yer own Sire quiet and satisfied. An’ ne’er ye mind… I know ‘tis not a small part t’ do with the boy here. Our Dru… she may be dotty but she has the sight… Just wish the older mistress could look past the little… eccentricities!”

There was affectionate taking of blood and activities of ‘other kinds’ resulting in gentle, chaste kisses as Angelus sighed, “Ahh boy… Would that we could return to St Petersburg more often… But Darla would have you attend her to read [the words emerging as a feral growl] after she beds Dru… And the two will have their hair done one day soon… Apparently Dru’s curls have impressed… and before you ask, we are not to be present – ‘tis just yer boy as is wanted!”

A now unbound Xander stilled his urge to move but did use his blindfold free sight to note the many bruises, deep scratches and nasty bite marks on the older vampire.

“I’ve missed ye Wil. You *and* yer Sire. But she, Darla, she’s not of a mind t’ be kind… not yet. The Master has filled her head with such…” Xander heard rather than saw the sigh, and registered the change in tone, genuine regret and affection implied, “She will kill yer boy there if she knows ye hold feelin’s. Wil, I’m warn’n ye… She’s… even as vampire she will never consider our disposition fer boys!”

Even though, of late, Xander had seen the quiet side of Angelus, he always interpreted it in the context of a big bullying cousin to Wil. Now he saw more, the confessions of a Master vampire who was acknowledging his own need for affection, his care for his male Grandchilde, and genuine respect for the connection between vampire and captive. And in that context, the next statement was of little surprise.

“I would steal a kiss and a moment of comfort if ye be of a mind Wil… just… but if ye’r nay inclined, I wonder if ye might just lick the…”

Wil moved to his Sire’s aid, first kissing the distressed elder tenderly, then falling into game face and beginning to clean wounds.

Xander was horrified by the sight of the oozing mass of whip marks scoring Angelus’ back and lower legs, and even more distressed by Wil’s tears despite Angeus’ apparent stoicism. The neat shirt and pants that looked so in tact from the front as the dark vampire had entered were in truth, shredded, courtesy of the cruel strokes of what had obviously been wet ‘cat o’ nine tails’.

The now free, human captive was strangely compelled to assist in the licking process as the, by reputation, most terrifying vampire in Europe ‘ever’ stretched out on the bed and gave in to pained sighs as much emotional as it physical given who had inflicted the wounds. His Sire, Darla, had disapproved, of what, no one other than the two involved would ever know. Wil knowing that all Angelus need do was question her actions or argue a point for a beating to ensue – particularly so soon after returning from the Master.

Dru joined them some time later and proceeded to ‘Lick Daddy!’ with a glee that was at once inappropriate and somehow sadly… still needed. Her own scratch marks and self harm were easily attended to afterwards by Xander not Wil, the younger vampire barely able to stand after being near drained by a needy Grandsire.

Xander was aware that Wil had never been in favor, Darla labeling her mad grandchilde’s plaything as ‘nancy boy’, ‘bottoming poet’, and ‘family embarrassment’. The idea that Xander would even survive her return was now linked directly to Darla’s obsession with vampire Lore – not that she had imparted much of it to her offspring as her level of literacy was limited at best, but Wil was a scholar, and Angelus, had seen the advantages of long hours of reading – particularly when power games were afoot.

After the whipping incident, and three nights of avoiding Darla later, Wil approached Angelus with a request. In order to keep his pet human safe by mating him – turning would require the Grand Dame’s permission and Wil none too keen on that option after the disaster with his mother. Mating was possible without Darla’s knowledge or approval and preserved the nature of the human. Informing Darla would normally have been a courtesy but Wil and Angelus knew – would likely result in Xander’s immediate death.

Angelus had seen the contentment and the growth of the young fledge and appreciated the less needy, more mature, William – a boy who no longer had an obsessive ‘love’ for his Sire, nor tried to gain Angelus’ attention constantly.

The older vampire made the arrangements and Wil put the proposal to Xander.

They were lying wrapped around each other after a late afternoon wakeup session of hour long slow, lovemaking. “I have asked Grandsire permission to mate you and he agreed. But your feelings need to be true Xan… I love you… and want to keep you safe… for me… for all time… but if you feel…

He was to be more than the ‘bottom boy’, indeed he was loved enough that his ‘owner’ asked his permission to claim him... forever.

They waited for Darla to depart for the evening – she and Angelus apparently guests at some society do that involved ‘moving pictures and a deliciously blacked out room’.
Dru was unusually quiet during the drive, but had brought Miss Edith with her – never a good sign if sanity was a requirement at their destination.

It was but a short carriage ride from their home to the L’Eriatte elder’s home in lower Soho. The pale demon, come mage, seemed to be a little too well informed of their connection and presided over the ritual with enthusiasm before happily taking his payment of a ‘rotund human’ (former disgraced member of the House of Representatives and responsible for a string of ‘dodgy dealings’ including with the L’Eriatte family) at the end of proceedings.

Xander was well used to being taken by Wil – indeed had come to not merely welcome it, but yearn for it. But this time, in the presence of the mage, as he opened himself and was entered and bitten while the ritual words were chanted, everything changed. Now to be with his Wil would literally be his life’s primary need – just as taking blood from his Master Vampire was to be a daily necessity. He was neither thrall nor Childe – he was something far more rare – an entity he had only read about twice in Giles’ books at home, a Mate. He found it somewhat surprising that after only a few short months he bore no regrets for the change, rather he felt treasured, loved, he was in every way the mated consort of an ancient vampire line, the first in three hundred years.

Xander felt an internal shift continue on the way back to their lair. He could *feel* his Master, all but taste him, and his joy could not even be tempered by Drusilla’s (apparently celebratory yet still inappropriate) wanton act of self pleasuring in the carriage as she raised her skirts, threw her legs wide and did with Ms Edith something the doll simply was not designed for.

Their absence, they thought, would go unnoticed. Sadly, one step into their home saw them at the mercy of Darla at her deadly best, though for once Dru’s over excited insane ramblings paid dividends. Happily the ‘dark plumb’, in all her deranged wisdom, had dressed Xander in her own over-dress and bonnet, and insisted that William carry the now rather soggy Ms Edith to ‘see the Queen’ as she danced and twirled into the hall and the three made their way past the incensed blonde .

Darla could sense an odd difference in the magical fabric, but having no idea where the three had been hunting, gave up any notion of trying to assess the situation, distracted completely by Dru’s wild ramblings as she attempted to make the hat stand dance a merry jig for the simple reason that it was apparently, “The stars are singing a merry tune Mummy.” then began her own tuneless rendition and continued the dance.

Xander was pushed up the stairs and felt the pang of hurt flowing from Wil as they passed the door of the master bedroom. A whip had been used again. The previously proud figure hung unconscious from the ceiling. His head was down, legs fixed apart by a steel bar, and tortured nether regions tied fast with ribbons like some sort of devil’s flower arrangement.

Angelus might well have disciplined Wil during Xander’s time in the house, but the Sunnydale Scoobie knew the vampire was *not* the mean, mad Angelus he had met in Sunnydale. The human had seen the tough love; the occasional jock-style, slap on the back when Wil did something worthy of approval; and the genuine brotherly connection though they were vastly different characters. Angelus loved his life as killer, loved his power to destroy utterly and completely. So different to his GrandChilde Wil, Angelus adored the artistry and had a near obsession with complex schemes that inflicted psychological harm, his eye for detail extending even after death, in many cases the tortured body left in macabre complex tableaus for the police and loved ones to misinterpret.

In contrast, when William hunted, he enjoyed the rush and the swift chase and excitement, sometimes romancing his victims but more often preferring to ‘charm and skim’ when in company (a technique frowned upon by Angelus and Darla) or taking to the docks or lower class areas, choosing those with little to lose. William loved his unlife for the fun and freedom of vampire existence after his middle class upbringing, and unlike his studious staid human self, he enjoyed the spontaneity and breaking of rules.

That all said, he still respected his older relative’s ways, relied on the dark male to guide him when his dotty Sire was incapable (which was almost always), was a slow but determined study, and was extremely wary of the blonde Grande Dame of their household.

Coming up for sunrise, as Wil and Xander engaged in their usual lovemaking Xander finally felt full force of the shift to Mate status. Mid coitus he gave in to instinct and bit Wil hard on the neck drawing mouthful after mouthful of what now tasted like liquid life. Later he would realize that his sight and hearing had also been enhanced.

Dru, Wil and Xander virtually hid upstairs for almost three days until finally ‘she who must be obeyed’ sent for them, formally inviting them ‘to High Tea at five’.

They entered the drawing room, William trying to calm his demon and Xander once again on his tight leash, and this time nude as required by ‘her ladyship’. The mate gave away none of the worry of being discovered as he took great satisfaction in considering that the tall figure of Angelus standing by the fireplace, apparently healed but obviously still subdued, would one day finish off his deadly bitch of a Sire once and for all… and for the benefit of a Slayer.

Wil was tense with worry, but Xander, without effort, sent love and calm back through the so recently established connection.

Wil fumbled a little as he made an effort to tie Xander’s leash to a ring on the floor. The leather collar had been replaced with silver, and Wil was being careful so the heavy links did not score human skin.


Xander had not meant to sleep, much dream, then wake and recall, only to dream some more… but the events of twenty four hours had taken their toll. He blamed his heightened state on the shift between realms, but his yellow eyes, night vision and desperate yearning for his Mate’s fluids refused being shaken off, just as his overwhelming feelings for the currently wrapped in his arms.

Spike eventually woke to a visceral sensation of being truly loved and safe for the first time in… As blue eyes blinked and met strange yellow/brown, the damaged vampire was again reduced to desperate tears. It had to be a cruel joke. His mate was holding him after all this time, holding and sending him love and concern and… it had to be his imagination except that when he buried his face into the neck he felt the mark and smelled… it was more than familiar… the bared neck was accepted, not just accepted, reciprocated.

He coughed a little with the flush of familiar blood then let his demon loose.

They were one. The time frames may have shifted, the stories altered, but there was no denying the blood. Wil, now Spike, gave in to his demon and as the boy above him, slicked for the purpose, straddling his form and sliding down a shaft apparently turned to steel.

Spike completed, felt the pull from a bite far too long missed and drank of blood from a Mate who when lost, had seen a grieving Childe all but drive his family distracted as his antics became more and more violent and outrageous.

Angel may have been caught in his own set of tricky circumstances, but a very worried message on Willow’s phone indicated that the ensouled Aurelian Grandsire had also felt the very recent return of the Mate and confirmation of ‘oddness’ in the timeline.

Oblivious, a sated Wil, aka Spike, slept replete, only vaguely registering the last slow sting of an Initiative chip’s circuits burning out and a baby soft kiss before his returned lover joined him in slumber.


It should have been joyful, but it was Giles,… and Willow… and too much light… and his eyes were still… because they were still…

It had always been so much easier in a vampire household.


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