Adult-FanFiction.org : Buffy

Another Sire, Please!	By : Silvi Category: AtS AU/AR > Threesomes/Moresomes Views: 3505 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Angel: The Series, nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1
- 2
Title: Another Sire, Please!

Author: Silvi & Saurii

Email: Silvi_HC@hotmail.com &
Saurii82@yahoo.com

Fandom: Ats

Category:
Adventure/Dark/Drama/Angst

Rating: NC-17 over all

Pairing: All
kinds...

Disclaimers: We own nothing.se yse you recognize belong to
J. Whedon, UPN, Mutant Enemy (ME) and what not. We�re just borrowing them
for awhile. J Any others are
of our creation.

Spoilers: Could be for "In the dark"
&�Somnambulist"

Status: Un-finished.

AN#1: To keep in mind while reading... Spike never
returned to SunnyD after what happened in "In the dark". Penn did NOT
die in "Somnambulist", he left. Darla gets raised, but as a VAMPIRE
so she is still very much Angel�s Sire. Angel is Spike Sire. Other than
that the canon is relatively unchanged.

AN#2: This story goes AU after �To Shanshu in LA�
but starts in canon �In the Dark�, any other minor changes to the canon are
explained in the fic.

AN#3: This
story is still on its early stages, so non of the warnings apply as of yet�be
patient, they will be relevant soon enough. That goes for the rating too.

Summery: Disgruntle with their lot in un-life Spike and
co. unwittingly start a chain of events that will have unexpected consequences
for them as well as others�

[* * * *]
indicates passing of time. Sentences in [italics] indicates thoughts.

& & & & &

Part I

* * * *

�I can�t
fricken� believe it!� Spike exclaimed hitting the steering wheel. �What have I
ever done to deserve this? The ring was mine, dammit. I should be the
one walking around in the sun now instead of that no-brained wanker. It�s all
his fault!�

Spike
peered through the blackened window as he was speeding down the road out of LA.
His angry ranting could barely be heard above the Sex Pistol that was blaring
from the car stereo. He briefly entertained the idea of returning to Sunnydale
but decided against it, he has had enough of that hell-hole.

If he never
sets foot in that place it would be too soon. Everything he ever tried there
turned to shit. The devil know what else would have happen had he returned
there.

�Uh oh, not
that crap. The Slayer would just LOVE to make my life hell.� He thumped angrily
at the wheel. The irritation and annoyens he felt against Angel for making everything so
damn difficult were pouring out of him in waves.

�He could
have just given me the ring, but nooo, he just had to be all noble and be so
bloody stubborn. He has no-one to blame but himself for that little torture
thing. Who is ryinrying to kid any way?� He reached under him grabbing the
bottle that was rolling around on the floor. He un-capped it and took a big
swallow.

�Aah�, he
sighed, �nothing better than good old JD to numb my non existing brain cells��
after a stunned moment of silence, he exploded once more, �Fuck! Now, that
bastard has me coming down on myself? Prat!�

He gave
himself a mental slap on the head and spent another hour finding inventive ways
in calling himself stupid. Eventually he got on the freeway. By now he had no
idea were he was heading except that he was going south. He had had enough of
the Americans to last awhile, that was for damn sure. Maybe there were some
nice se�oritas to take his mind off this last humiliation.

* * * *

The little
devils pounding away with their sledgehammer inside his scull brought him back
to the land of consciousness. He could see the light from the setting sun
peering in between the drawn curtains and it was painful to his sensitive eyes.

With a
strangled groan he tried to roll over, away from the annoying light but was
stopped by the corpse of a beautiful girl lying next to him on the bed. He had
no memory of how he ended up there with her, not that it was bothering him; it
wasn�t the first time he woke up like that and he betted that it wouldn�t be
the last time either. Looking at her he apparently must have had fun though he
surmised the girl would object to that if she could.

He rolled
back onto his back peering up at the sealing trying to ignore his pounding
head. Pressing his palm of his hands against his eyes he waited for anything
that could jar his memory of were he was and how he had ended up in this
motel-room.

He wasn�t
worried; they usually came within a couple of minutes of waking up. And sure, a
few moments later he groaned once again as the pounding in his head got worse
as the memories started to resurface.

He hadnt tnt the last several months
cruising the border towns on the Mexican side, wandering from bar to bar
chatting and occasionally scoring the willing se�oritas and drinking himself to
a stupor. Trying anything he could to forget the fact that he was alone and
quite frankly miserable. The whole encounter with Angel had left him shattered.
Not withstanding that the last century had not been the best of the best in
spite of the fact that he had Drusilla and that he had truly loved her once,
err�love her.

One night
was the same as the night before repeating in an endless stream of nothingness.
The towns were so like the other that he couldn�t for the un-life of him tell
what their names were as they blurred in to one solid entity in his mind.

He had
stayed far away from his kind as he could and staking the few that got in his
way. The ones in this town had left him alone as soon as they decided that he
wasn�t a threat to them. He wasn�t interested in their politics nor did he want
to take over, so by mutual agreement they stayed clear from each other.

The girl
lying next to him wasn�t anyone special, just a foreign college student who
hadn�t known better than to listen to his smooth talk and who he had picked up
the night before. She had bruises littering over her entire body and he
wouldn�t be surprised if she had some broken bones. Once he had her in the room
he hadn�t exa exactly tender with her. Though what had killed her wasn�t his
bad handling, it was those two fairly large puncture wounds at the side of her
throat. At the end of the night he had drain her dry.

Not
bothering to change the blood-soaked sheets or cover her up, he got off the bed
and cleaned himself up in the bathroom. After pulling his cloths on he went
over to the girl�s purse that lay were she had dropped it the night before and
rummaged through it, taking what valuable she had. Getting to the door he
surveyed the room to see if he had forgotten anything else worth taking, and
with barely a glance at the girl he left the room.

Let the bloody maids take care of the mess, he thought languidly.

By the time
he left the motel the sun had settled and what could pass as nightlife in this
town had started. Faithful to his habit of the past several months he began
once again his nightly routine, which consisted in scouting out the local
establishments. After being in some of the bars and clubs, occasionally
draining some poor sod in some darkened corner he decided to try one of the
local bar on the outskirts of town where the more obscured patrons frequented.

The ones in
town were good if you were interested in the young virile people that danced to
the modern techno music but lately that had started to grate on his nerve in a
way that controlling his bloodlust was becoming more difficult each time.

* * * *

Getting to
the bar he had picked out was easy enough. The pedestrians stupid enough to
venture in to this side of town avoided him for some reason. The bar itself was
in a nondescript building that had seen better days, or nights, but that hardly
matter to him, it more than suited his needs for the night.

The smoke
lay thick in the air as Spike walked in. It was dark and gloomy and the
atmosphere was subdued. The foul stench of old beer and vomit mixed together
made his stomach turn, but he guess that the people that were gathered in small
cluster engaged in private conversations either didn�t smell them, or they were
just too accustom to it that they no longer were bother by it.

It was a medium
sized bar with tables thrown about in the room, a couple of booths against one
wall and a long worn bar at the other, in the far corner there was an old,
battered jukebox giving its renditions to their national folklore. At least there�s no techno in here.

It was
still early, just barley past eleven, and jet the place was unusually empty.
Only half a dozen people sat at the bar. Some of them were watching the
television.

Making a
double take Spike was stunned to realise that it was broken, at some point in
the past the screen had an unfortunate encounter with a bottle being thrown at
it, breaking it. Another handful of people were seated around the tables spread
throughout the main floor.

They where
involve in some kind of card game which was enough to pick his interest, maybe he could hook up in one of them later,
taking a closer look he decided against it. The stake, no pun intended, weren�t
enough to even bother.

The men at
those tables barley glance up as he walked past them. These were people who
knew not to care or get involved with the gringos, and therefore barley lifted
an eyebrow when such entered their place.

Being a
Mexican border town bar, which by itself should guarantee to have attracted
some of the roughest lowlifes that seemed to frequent such establishments, they
had gotten accustom to some pretty weird things. And this unusually pale one
had a vibe to him that held them at bay, just as the other one had done.

Strolling
up to the bar he ordered himself in a heavily accented Spanish a shot of
tequila. Turning around he eyed the room while leaning against the banister on
his elbows waiting for his shot to be poured up. Most of the men were hard
workers looking to drown the sorrows in alcohol, something he could relate to,
other were ruffians, tough men that it would be best to keep an eye on.

A movement
down in one of the corner booth caught his attention. He spotted a familiar
head which made him make a double take. That particular head was one he hadn�t
seen in well over one hundred years, since by the time the Scourge of Europe
were at their prime he had already left to make it on his own.

He spent a
moment to just watch the young man, making certain it was really him. The man
moved slightly letting some of the overhead light fall on his youthful features
and a slight sneer appeared on Spikes face. It was him.

Surprisingly
enough Spike found that the deceptively young looking male hadn�t changed much
over the years. His blond mane might be shorter in an imitation of the almighty
poof but he still looked like he had just stepped out of one of the old times
drawing rooms were he had just spent hours discussing the state of national
affairs, or some other boring rot such as that.

He wore
worn modern clothing, yet still managed to look dressed up. With a slight shake
of his head Spike surmised that the man looked like a bigger poof than the
poofter himself, a feat in and of itself. He didn�t look his best but had an
air of dignity that had always amazed Spike in the past, something else the man
had in common with Peaches.

He quickly
downed his drink and ordered another one. Glass in hand he weaved himself
through the tables and headed towards the booth.

�I can�t
bloody believe it!� he exclaimed somewhat stunned. �What are YOU doing here?�

He
un-ceremonially dumped himself opposite the man, sprawling across the seat.
After a moment of just watching the figure ignore him he put his drink down and
leaned across the table putting his weight on his forearms.

�Hey, mate! I�m talking to you.� The
silence stretched. �Penn, yo PENN! Is there anyone at home upstairs?� He
punctuated his question by knocking on the rough, marked surface of the table
with his knuckles.

Slowly
lifting his gaze from his drink in front of him, a slight sneer flickered over
the beautiful mans face. You got to give
it to the old man; he did know how to pick �em. Spike made sure that
nothing he thought showed on his face. Penn slowly looked Spike over to finally
meet hard blue eyes with his own.

There
weren�t much love lost between them for various reasons, the foremost being
that Penn was Spike senior with almost a hundred years and Spikes
unsubordinated nature clashed heavily against his own more, what he was sure
the younger man perceived as boring, personality. Penn�s educated soft voice answered him back.

�William�

� end of
part 1.
- 1
- 2
You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.You need to be logged in to leave a review for this story.
Report Story

Another Sire, Please!