Second Times

Series: What If... (Or what if Spike did a time Spell in Lover's Walk?)

Author: Shara Nesu

Feedback: Shara-Nesu@supanet.com. Love it? Please.

Archived At: Shara's place: http://www.shara-nesu.supanet.com/index.html

Disclaimer: Joss & TV company owns them all! *sob* Anyone want to make a consortium and buy them out?

Spoilers: BTVS Season 3: Lover's Walk.

Category/Pairings: Spike/Angel.

Rating: NC17 Warning: M&M sex

Distribution: Want, Have, Take.

Summery: What if... Spike gets Willow to do a Time Spell, instead of the stupid love idea. Off course as Spike's plans always work - not - unexpected events take place and Spike destroys the fabric of time. Now he has to correct his mistake, which leads him to Ireland, and guess who...

Back-Story: Lover’s walk. Spike returns from South America and kidnaps Willow and Xander. He’s brought them both back to the burnt out factory. Xander is laid out on Dru’s bed, with a head wound, while Willow sits nervously by him. This is where things start to change:


Second Times
By Shara Nesu


Spike’s POV:

I’ve just decided on my plan. I’ve kidnapped Willow and now she’s going to do a love spell. Yep, that’s the way to do it. That’s how I’m going to get Drusilla back. I pick up Willow’s box of supplies and go to open the door. Wait a mo... What’s this? I pull out the large book inside, turn it over and read the title: “Witchcraft.”

I flick the book open and read - “Time Reversal Spell.” Hey, that’s even better. A time spell! I could go back in time, kill that bastard Angel before he ever shags the slayer and Drusilla will be mine eternally. It’s fucking brilliant! She won’t have ever left me; she would never have pined over her sire. It’s a stroke of bloody genius.

I wrench the door open and stride in. The little red head sits apprehensively on the edge of the bed looking after that punk kid, Xander. I shove the book into her hands, at the open page.

“You are going to do a spell for me.”

“Uh, you want me to do a love spell?” Willow asks, her voice quivering in fear.

“No! I don’t want a useless love spell! I don’t want her back after she’s shagged a chaos Demon! Are you brain dead?” My god! Do I have to explain everything!

I go over to the dresser and grab a new bottle of whiskey. I uncork it and take a long, calming swig. “I’m gonna get back what’s mine! I want it the way it was before that bastard tainted her.” I lean over and breath whiskey air into Willow’ face. “You are going to do a time spell!” I take several more good swallows, and grin her.

“A time spell!” she yells, “But you can’t... you can’t mess with time... there are consequences and stuff...” she blubbers.

“What are you trying to say! You can’t do it?” I grab her throat, dragging her up and pressing her against the hard wood of the bedpost. “Or you won’t? Believe me, I can make you do it.” I smash the bottle against the bedpost, the broken neck till in my hand. With terrified eyes, Willow gasps, as I press the broken glass to her throat.

“Yes, I’ll do it!” she cries in a panicked voice.

I lean towards her, morphing into my true face. “You lie to me, and I’ll shove this through your face! You want that?”

“No...” she mumbles, terrified of me. Oh fuck, she smells good. I’d love a quick bite, but maybe later, now I have a job for her. She’s going to make everything perfect in my world. I’m going to have Dru back, and get rid of that Angel pillock forever.

“I’ll shove it right through to your brain!” You know, just to make sure she knows I’m serious.

“No, please, no... I’ll do it now! Please don’t hurt me... please...”

I shove her aside and lean against the bedpost. I am so bloody ingenious. Women do anything I tell them. Willow gets down on her knees and starts reading over the requested spell.

“I... err... need some... lavender and something old...” she informs me nervously.

I’m just so evil. Right lavender... that’s easy. I open one of the abandoned trunks and pull out a potpourri bag. Dru always liked her clothes smelling od lavender. Something old... ah, I pick out of the burnt wreckage a broken doll’s face. I dump them before her and plonk myself down on the floor. Willow looks nervously up at me and with a shaking hand, collects the ingredients.

“You're doing it now!” I remind her.

“Yes... Yes... I’m getting it ready.” I watch as she moves her hands over the objects and whispers something in Latin, I think. “err... you have to hold the objects, one in each hand,” she mumbles, still utterly terrified of me.

I pick up the lavender bag and porcelain face. Willow starts to mumble the spell in a language I don’t recognise. Over and over she repeats the incantation, and I’m getting pretty bored.

“Come on, you’re just messing...



“... about...”


What the fuck! I jump up off a cobbled street and look around. Its night and I seem to be standing in a dirty alley. The fumes of human waste assault my nose and I can hear the sounds of rats scurrying past me. Where the fuck am I? This is not Sunnydale a year ago! This place smells like... like... Bloody hell! I’m in London! I drop the ingredients and charge down the alley. I come to a halt at the end, next to a toyshop, and in the window is a doll. The doll Dru had! Bloody Hell! The little witch duped me!

I take a deep whiff of London air and I know I’m home. I kinda missed the old place, but something isn’t right. There are no factories around, no fumes of Steam engines and mills. It’s almost pre-industrial. I wonder what the date is? I walk down the street, but pass no people. It’s late at night and this quarter of the city is deserted. Out of the blue, from behind me, a woman’s voice laughs out. I follow it into another darkened alley.

Up ahead I make out a finely dressed woman, but she looks kinda weird. The dress has like huge wings on the sides, making her look like she’s got hips 4 feet wide! She has blond locks flowing down her back in perfect ringlets. I get this sudden chill, and she reminds me of someone. The woman turns and growls at me.

Darla! With a snarl she attacks me, her long fangs snapping at my neck. I push her off, but she’s hardly phased by my defence and backhands me, hard. Shit, it feels as if my eyeballs are exploding. I stumble back, hitting the wall and grab the nearest weapon. A broken piece of wood from some crate. Darla screams and charges again, I bring my arm up and shove the wooden stake right into the bitch’s heart. Darla explodes into a million particles of dust.

Not a bad day’s work! I laugh, as I brush her remains from my clothing. I always hated the bitch. Well, I’m off to find Drusilla. I bet this can’t be much earlier that the 1850’s. Drusilla’s doll couldn’t be much older than she was. Still, London looks really bizarre, and I think I’m a little lost.

“Well, well, you have really screwed everything up, haven't you?”

“What the fuck...?” I turn around and face a short, uninteresting looking man. He looks like I do - well, I mean he’s dressed in clothing like mine. Well, not like mine, but the same era. I wouldn’t be seen dead in a Hawaiian shirt like that, or the fedora hat. “Who the hell are you?”

“The name’s Whistler. I’m a demon and I work for the Powers that Be.”

“So?”

“You do realise that you have just destroyed the whole shebang?”

“Huh?”

“The future. It’s all gone. You are a fugitive in time now. Lost here in the past.”

“I don’t give a shit,” I laugh, “now just tell me where Drusilla is and I’ll be on my way.”

“She hasn’t been born yet; she won’t be for another 100 years.”

“What?” This time the badly dressed demon has my attention. “Err... what year is this?”

“1752.”

DARLA! I just fucking killed Darla. My grandsire in 1752! Oh... Shit! What the fuck do I do now? I’ve just killed my Grandsire - *before* she turned my sire - Angelus. Oh god! Oh... fuck... what the... oh shit... I’m still here, still 100% solid. I can feel my own body... Oh fuck! Hey, maybe this works like Back to the Future; I have a little time to fade away... bloody hell... Wait... stop panicking. I’ve gotta to calm down... FUCK! What am I doing to do... bugger!

Calm... Calm... Get a fag... Oh, great no bloody fags! They haven’t been invented yet! Oh blast! Damn... Calm... gotta calm down. Right no fags, no Darla, no turning of Angelus, no me! Fuck... No... calm... gotta think.

“Fuck! I’ll kill that bloody witch!” I kick the wall and the stone almost breaks my bloody toe. “Fuck!”

“Willow sent you back in time to when that doll was made - 1752. Angelus gave it to Drusilla. For that spell you needed something made in the year you wanted to travel back to.” He gives a laugh and grins at me. I snarl back and bare my fangs. “You can’t kill me. I’m immortal and my blood would taste pretty disgusting to you.”

“What the fuck do you want from me then? Why are you telling me all this?”

“We have a proposition for you.”

“Huh? I don’t work for the good guys, remember? I’m evil, the big bad...this ringing any bells to you?”

“I know who you are, Spike. You are stranded here in time; you messed up the future and destroyed the Power’s warrior.”

“I only just killed that bitch Darla. Shouldn’t you be congratulating me for saving the world from that bitch and her psychopathic Childe?”

“Angel is the Power’ champion. Angelus was turned in 1753, you have just killed his sire and now that’s never going to happen.”

“You mean I just killed Angel? Yes!” I give a little victory dance, but the demon doesn’t seem to be amused. Oh, wait a sec... Angel has to Angelus first - Shit!

“Also with his demise, you will be vanishing soon too;” he grins and cocks his hat in a gesture of goodbye.

“What?” Now I’m all ears. “What do you mean I’ll be vanishing.”

“Darla is dead, Angelus won’t be turned, and your Drusilla will never become a vampire. Unless... nah, you don’t want to hear that. You’re evil.”

“What... hear what?” Okay, so I’m getting a little desperate.

“We give you a second chance. You will continue to live, exist in this dimension, but you will have to perform one task.”

“What... Anything!” All right, I’m begging. I might be the big bad, but I don’t want to die - well, cease to exist.

Whistler gives me a sly grin and hands me a ticket. It’s a boat ticket from Liverpool to Dublin, Ireland. “You continue to live your un-live to the full, but first you have to turn Liam.”

“Who the fuck is Liam?”

“He’s the human that shall become known as Angelus, and in the fullness of time, he’ll once again become the Power’s champion.”

“No! No fucking way! Angelus is the bane of my bloody existence. I hate him, I despise him, and there is no way I’m siring him!”

Whistler reaches out to take the tickets back. I pull back. Wait... If I don’t do this I’m screwed. If I do it, then I’m going to have psycho Angelus nipping at my heals, wanting his daddy. Shit! I don’t want to die, I like my un-life. I like killing, screwing, and killing, and... I want to live - well, un-live. Also I get to be the sire of the Scourge of Europe - that might be interesting. Oh, what the hell!

“Okay! Fine. I’ll bloody turn him, okay!” Whistler smiles and I snarl at him.

“You have until the 3rd of May 1753 to get to Galway and turn Liam. Remember! Fail this and you’ll be staring into oblivion for eternity.”

April 1753: I hate this fucking century. Why the hell couldn’t Liam have been born in my time! I mean, how can men wear these bloody breaches? There‘re... well, there just not decent, and damn embarrassing. There’s no way to hide your erection in these tight things. God, I miss my jeans! Also I have to wear sock things with braces on. Shoes not boots. I don’t mind the fine waistcoats, and jackets, but come on! Why the hell did they invent breaches? I look like a poof!

Also, I hate Ireland. It’s cold, wet and dull. Well, England’s like that... but Ireland worse. It’s... It’s full of the Irish! I hate this country. I hate this century. I want to go home! *Sulk*

I’ve made Galway in good time. It’s April and I have a month to find and turn Liam. Bloody Angelus! I can’t bloody stand him! Okay... gotta calm down. Okay - all I do is sire Liam, then I can bugger off and leave him to his own devices. Right. I know he was turned in an alley outside a tavern. All I have to do is find said tavern, which shouldn’t be hard, then Liam. It’s easy!

15 April: I never knew there was so many bloody taverns in Galway. How was I supposed to know it‘s a growing town? I haven’t spotted anyone like him. Maybe I’ve got the wrong area. Shit, what do I do? Fuck... No, stay calm... Villages... I’ll check the surrounding villages. This better bloody work... I don’t want to be non-existent. There’s no fun in oblivion.

In the end, I stay in a little tavern just outside Galway. I’m getting pissed off with all the taverns I’ve visited. Also, people have started to think I’m a little peculiar. I guess I am kind of strange, I check out every young man that enters the place. They are going to think I’m fucking queer soon, and I‘ve never been a bloody sodomite. Don’t they lock people away like that in this time or something? Shit... I hate this. I hate Willow! I hate Angel - it’s all his bloody fault!

It’s getting late, when suddenly I notice the start of a fight. I might get some entertainment tonight after all. I look on in interest, as a tall, longhaired man starts shouting at a willowy youth at his table. I can’t see the man’s face, but his physique is strong and well built. I bet he’s some potato farmer. I signal the barmaid and she brings over more of the horrid ale. Haven’t they invented Guinness yet? I watch the tall potato farmer drunkenly hit his companion and shouts something with a strong Irish accent. The unconscious man’s friend then takes a swing at the potato farmer and he hits back. His new opponent is just as big and as strong as he is, so they start wrestling it out.

The potato farmer is hit in the face and he’s thrown across my table. I grab my ale quickly out of the way and I stare in disgust at him. I really would like to have a fight right now. I’m about to say something to that effect, but suddenly, I catch sight of his face... Angel? The same eyes and features of Angel/Angelus stare back at me and he grins. There is devilment in the young man’s face and he snatches up my ale. I can’t say a word; I’m in shock! He drinks my ale down and goes back to fighting. That I assume was Liam. Liam brawling in a tavern and yes, he‘s peaked my interest. This might not be so boring after all. I’ve never seen this side of Angelus before.

The barmaid comes over with my new mug of ale and sets it down. I curl my nose at the horrid smell.

“Who is he?” I ask, pointing pre-Angelus out. The barmaid looks over at the fighting form of Liam, and I swear she licks her lips in anticipation. I bet she has sampled the wares.

“Who, that one?” She points out Liam.

“Yes, he stole my ale.”

“Liam, the local rake. He’ll seduce any woman that looks at him, and then he’ll abandon them in the morning.”

“I won’t have a problem then, will I?” I laugh. The barmaid smiles and gives another longing look at Liam.

“You won’t be getting money out of him either,” she says coolly, as she collects the empty mug. “Unless it’s his father’s silver.”

So this Liam is a rake, scoundrel and thief. I like him already. I wonder what the hell happened to turn him into that bastard who Angelus becomes. I bet it was that bloody bitch, Darla‘s fault. I watch as Liam continues to fight his opponent, but he’s knocked out cold when someone breaks a bottle over his head. It looks like I won’t be meeting him tonight.

The next evening, I leave my room at dusk and visit the local area. I need to find out where this Liam lives. Its not a very large village, and I discover Liam is the son of some fabric merchant. They do pretty well, and have a maid. Business isn’t as well as it could be, mainly due to the fact the father won’t trust his son to work for him. I found out from the village whore that there was some scandal about Liam swindling from his father’s business. He accused another man, who his father proclaimed innocent and called worthier than his own son. Liam’s father was said to be dismayed by his son’s dishonour, local men would refuse their daughters hand in marriage to him, nor would they trust him to work with them. They said he had the devil within him, and his poor father, in his mercy, tried to cure his son of that. The locals called him a scoundrel and a thief, completely untrustworthy with any money - or around their daughters. The whores called him a damn good fuck.

That night, I observe Liam’s antics at the tavern. He drinks far more than what‘s good for him, and later departs with the local tart. I follow them out and she takes him to her hovel. Outside, I listen to them fucking away, then a couple of hours later; Liam emerges looking dishevelled and even more inebriated. I intend to follow him home, but he doesn’t go there. He walks down into an old cemetery and sits on a small hill overlooking the tall gravestones.

“If yer wanting to rob me, I’ve got no money,” he says softly.

I’m surprised that he knew I was here. There is sadness on the boy’s face, and he picks up a stone, throwing it into the cemetery grass. I think he was aiming for the grave markers.

“I’ve no intension of robbing you, I’m new here and I believe I am lost.” I step out of the darkness and walk over to him.

“Yer, English. We don’t get any foreigners in these parts. Yer will find nothing of interest in this god-forsaken place.” He picks up another stone, throwing it further this time.

“You seem to find the graveyard very interesting.”

Liam laughs and gets up. I follow him further into the cemetery and he stops before a small grave marker.

“This would be me brother. A twin in fact. He was born seconds before me, but he died. My Da wishes he had lived instead of me, then he wouldn’t have such a disgrace for a son.” Liam gives a little sob, and bends down.

I don’t have chance to talk to him, because he starts violently to heave up all his earlier booze and meal. Oh, just great! I hate humans. I can’t leave him here, since I’m not able to let him die too soon, so I decide to drag him home. I drop him off on his doorstep, stinking of booze and sex.

This Liam wasn’t what I expected. He’s nothing like Angelus or Angel for that fact. He’s a lonely, broken boy, who’s trying to kill himself with sex, booze, and bar fights. No wonder he let Darla turn him. I mean he would have had to! He’s big, strong and could have fought her off if he‘d put all of his effort into it. As far as I remember, I believe Darla used to say that Angelus was waiting for her to turn him. That she had offered him the world and he’d accepted death.

On next night, I arise early, and since it’s only just spring, it’s dark around 4pm. I decide to take a walk into the countryside to rid myself of that tavern stench. I’m getting sick to death of smelling like bad ale. I make a quick kill for dinner, and walk back past a small pond and spinney of trees. Under one of these trees I spot Liam. He’s sitting in the long grass, with an easel across his knee. He’s busy drawing - trying to finish before the last of the light disappears completely.

“Liam!” A young girl runs across the field and waves at him. “Liam!”

I move into the trees to watch this meeting. I have no idea who this girl is. Angelus never mentioned any siblings. Well, apart from the dead twin, I discovered last night. The girl is petite and pretty. I think it has to be his sister. She has the same dark brunette hair, and the large brown eyes.

“Liam, it’s time for dinner. Da won’t be pleased if you’re late again. Liam!” she shouts running up to him.

Liam looks up from his drawing. His face shocks me. The left side is bruised, and he has a split lip, which is swollen. I notice that his hands are cut and bruised, his knuckles raw with broken skin. What the hell is this? I can’t believe that Angel or Liam would take this abuse from anyone. Not even in the bar fight I witnessed, did he get these types of injuries.

“I’m coming, Kathy,” the young man sighs and gathers his tools. Kathy gives him a smile, and he smiles in return, his whole face brightening in a way which I‘ve never seen. It makes him look... nice. There is obviously love in his face for this young girl. She takes his hand and leads him back home. I follow them back to their house, and listen in at the window. I can hear dinner being prepared and a soft-spoken woman asks what Liam has been doing. He says he’s drawn the local lake and... Suddenly, a door crashes open.

“So ye have finally graced us with yer presence! Yer only seen to eat the food set before ye. Ye never think how it was put there. By hard work - Mine!” I hear pots break and a gasp. “Yer good for nothing. I’m ashamed to have thee as my son!” I hear more pots smash and the outer door is thrown open.

“Yer’ll do some chores before you sit at my table and eat my food. Yer absolutely useless, Liam!”

Liam is thrown through the door and his father slams it shut as he steps out. Liam lies in the dirt a moment, before carefully kneeling up on his knees. Why doesn‘t he fight back? He‘s just kneeling there, taking it!

“I’ve find yer been stealing again from me, boy. There are five silver spoons missing now!” Liam’s father pulls out a box of pastels and charcoals, throwing them at Liam’s feet. “Is this want you’ve been spending my life’s work on. Rubbish!” He stamps his feet on the artist’s instruments and they break into tiny pieces. Liam cries out, but he is silenced by his father’s backhand.

“Take yer shirt off, boy.”

For a second Liam hesitates, but then gives a weary sigh. This has been a usual occurrence for a long time, it seems. Liam unbuttons his shirt and bares his naked back to his father. The grey haired man pulls off his wide leather belt and wraps his around his hand.

“I’ll beat some sense into ye yet, boy. It’s all I can do for ye.” The old man actually looks sad as he starts to whip his child. I think he believes that this will set young Liam on the straight and narrow. From what I know, it’s only making his son hate him more. After twenty lashes, Liam’s father buckles up his belt and goes back into the house, slamming the door closed on his son.

When Liam is sure he’s gone, he goes over to the broken box, and carefully starts picking out the surviving artist materials. There are tears running down his face and his body trembles with shame and anguish. I leave my hiding place and kneel beside him. My fingers carefully pick out an intact pastel. When I hand it to him, I look up in frightened eyes.

“Thank you... if ye be wanting me father, he’s inside,” Liam speaks softly, but with a cold edge.

“It’s not your father I have come to see. I met you the other night; I’m visiting to see if you have recovered.”

Liam gives me a confused look. I think that maybe he was too far drunk to remember me.

“I thank ye for helping me.” He collects his pastels and wraps them in his shirt. When he turns, I see the bleeding lashes on his back and something breaks inside me. I feel... sorry for him. Which is really unacceptable, because I hate Angelus.

“Your back needs cleaning, come.” I have no idea why the hell I said that to him. I hate him... remember! All I have to do is turn him and then bugger off. That’s all. So why the hell am I helping him? Liam hesitates for a moment, but then follows me away from the house and back towards the tavern.

Liam is shivering by the time we get there, and not just from the cold. I check there is no one around, then I take him up to my room. There is water in a small jug with a basin, left for me by the mistress of the house. I wet a cloth and press it to the weeping wounds on his back. Liam gasps and pulls away. I notice the cuts are deep and they could get infected. I don’t want him getting blood poisoning before I turn him - makes the blood taste bad.

“Sit down, I’ll get some spirits.” Liam does as I say and I steel a bottle of cheap whiskey from the bar. I wet the cloth again and clean his wounds. The alcohol makes him jump, and his flesh quivers under my cold fingers. He’s so warm. His back has been made even warmer by the beating and is smeared with fresh blood. I lick my lips from the smell of him. I would love to bite him now, but it’s too early. Whistler said I had to do it on the 4th of May. I guess I can’t change history too much, I’ve done enough as it is.

“I guess you pissed... err, annoyed your father then,” I comment, trying to make small talk, to stop staring at his warm red... dripping... blood... Oh, sweet... blood... Stop!

“He doesn’t like me drawing. It’s not a proper man’s job,” Liam answers, automatically. “I’m a failure, my father...” He chokes out the last sentence and I can smell his tears. I don’t talk anymore, just continue to clean his back. There are other marks here, only a couple of days old, some maybe a week. His body tells a tale in bruising and cuts. I tale I’ve never known. I was born in Victorian England, and my father had a little bookshop. He did well, and was a very intellectual person. He never believed in beating his children. I guess that’s why William - me - turned out a complete wimp. Now come on, tweed suit and little wire glasses, I didn’t really need, and writing poetry! What was I thinking!?

“Yer are a strange gentleman, sir...” Liam is talking to me and I haven’t been listening. I’ve finished cleaning his back and take a swig of whiskey. “Yer hair looks white, and yet ye aren’t old?”

“Hey! It’s blond!” Liam turns and looks at me, giving me Angelus’ trademark smirk. A shiver travels through my spine and I feel suddenly warm.

“Forgive me, it’s is blond.” I offer him the whiskey and he takes it from my hand. Our fingers touch for a second and I feel his soft warm flesh. These are artists’ hands, untouched by hard work.

“I know not yer name,” he tells me, taking another swig of whiskey. I suppress a sudden bout of arousal as our skin touches, and shake myself. I’ve got to keep my wits about me with Liam. He’s a natural tease.

“Spi... err... Will,” What am I saying? I’m Spike; I don’t need to give him a normal name. Hey, what’s he laughing at.

“William! Yer name is William?” he chuckles, clutching his side.

“Yeah, what’s so funny?” I growl.

“Forgive me, but my name is William to, or as the Irish say Ulliem.”

Oh. I never thought of that, that we share the same name. Mine, being the English derivative of Will, and his the Irish, Liam. I laugh with him and take another deep swallow of the cheap whiskey.

Later after a few bottles, well more like 10 bottles of Whiskey, I’m completely plastered. Liam has passed out a couple of times, then thrown up his stomach contents and gone back to drinking. I’ve never known a human drink so much. I believe that if he’s not turned, he is going to end up dying of liver failure. It’s remarkable that he has lasted tonight out. The rest of the time, when not drinking, we’ve talked the hours away.

I’ve learned a lot about Liam. He’s nearly twenty-six years old, has a sister Kathy over ten years younger than himself. His father considers him a complete failure and Liam has long given up trying to please him. In fact, he’s living down to his father’s every expectation. Everything his father calls him, drunk, scoundrel that’s what Liam does. That’s all he believes he’s capable of doing. I feel my anger rising towards Liam’s father. Liam is intelligent, artistically gifted, but he’s been taught these things are downfalls, not gifts.

Liam tells me a story much like the one the whore recited. It seems that Liam can draw, write and read, but his mathematical skills are atrocious. He was good at his father's business, but he couldn’t check up on the order amounts or money, like his father expected him to. He allowed the bookkeeper to do the mathematical work, never checking on the finished result. He never saw the embezzlement of goods taking place right under his nose. In the end the bookkeeper, on the verge of being discovered, decided on a plan and pointed the finger at Liam. Liam unable to prove he didn’t know, or couldn’t check the books, was proclaimed the thief. His father fired his son in disgrace, destroying Liam’s reputation and livelihood. After that, none wanted him as a son-in-law or employee. Liam couldn’t change what people thought of him, so he lived down to their expectations. Especially his father‘s. When he called his son a thief, a scoundrel, a whore, that’s what Liam became. He lived down to the worst beliefs of his family. Since then, he’d been a broken man, looking for trouble, and in a way, death.

Later after more booze, he tells me of his sexual conquests. He lost his virginity at thirteen! Gods, I was 21 with Dru! I think he’s had sex with every single, married and aged-spinster in the whole village. He laughs and weeps as he told me about his father catching him screwing their ex-cook.

I don’t tell him about myself. I’m far too interested in listening to Liam. His voice is husky and so fascinating; I could listen to him talk forever. He holds none of Angelus harsh words or cruelty. He laughs openly and at the slightest thing. I share with him some twentieth century jokes, which have him in stitches. It’s nearly dawn when we finally fall back on the bed, completely pissed and exhausted.

For the first time, I find myself staring openly at Liam’s features. He lies back on the bed, facing me. His face is flushed with drink and laughter. His lip is bruised from his father’s fists, but still warm and welcoming. He has the most captivating, smoky, brown eyes. Deep, wide and full of life. His brow is high and foreboding, with defined cheekbones, full lips, straight nose and strong chin. Together they make him uniquely beautiful. Angelic almost. I lean forward and breathe in Liam’s manly scent. He smells musky and bloodied. I smell the cuts on his back and on his lip. The smell of blood and his skin is exotic, a delicious morsel asking for the taking. I lean forward and breathe him in. I tilt my head and brush his lips with my own.

Liam breathes quickly and I smell a sudden whiff of arousal. His breath caresses my lips, as I press them to his. Liam moans beneath me and parts his mouth a little, with a soft gasp. I lick at his lip, worrying his healing wound. Sweet blood coats the end of my tongue and I taste his sugary blood. He tastes so good, full of pain and alcohol. I push my lips against his more forcefully this time, parting them with my tongue and tasting inside. His mouth is sweet, wetly pleasant and alluring. I can’t seem to get enough of his taste. Everything about him tastes so delightful. He’s just one delicious offering.

I roll Liam on his back and kiss him. My body pressing against his side. My hand rests on his large chest, where I find hard nipples, which I flick playfully. I experience his whole mouth, tasting his teeth, his palette and encouraging his tongue to play with mine. When he finally responds, he groans deep in his chest, and his tongue probes into my mouth. We fight for dominance and suddenly, Liam pulls away from me gasping. I had completely forgotten he was human, and had to breathe. I lean forward and catch his mouth in another kiss. Our mouths touch and his tongue once again thrusts against mine. Suddenly, he pulls back, but I make another attempt to kiss him.

“No...” he murmurs as I force my tongue into his mouth. He retreats and looks up at me with a shocked expression. “I can’t... you’re a man... it’s a sin... I...” Liam jumps off the bed and grabs his shirt. The pastels and charcoals are scattered across the floor. “I can’t...” he hurriedly opens the door and runs out, leaving me aroused and panting on the bed.

What the hell am I doing!? I don’t like men. What was I thinking? Kissing Liam? Oh god, my mind must have been twisted. The spell made me queer or something. I pick up the half bottle of whiskey and throw it against the wall. It smashes and glass is scattered across the floor, mixing with Liam‘s artists’ materials. I fall back against the bed, and sigh. What am I thinking? I’ve never been with a man before. Never! I never wanted to. Then all of a sudden I’m making out with the future Angelus? Have I lost my bloody marbles?

I feel tears sting my eyes, but I brush them away. I can’t... I won’t get upset about Liam refusing me! It was the drink, that’s all. I look down and see a pastel near my bed. I pick it up and stare at it. Liam held this, in those large artists’ hands of his. It’s amazing how those big fingers could delicately move this across a sheet of paper. It’s broken now, broken by his father’s disappointment. I pull myself off the bed, and methodically start to pick up the all pastels and charcoals. Pieces of glass dig into my fingers, coating them with blood. Tears prick my eyes and I don’t stop them. I don’t know why.

~*~*~*~

The next day, I have one hell of a hangover. I manage to crawl out of bed around 6pm and kill the barmaid. I was far too hung over to go anywhere else, so I went back to bed. The night after that, I awakened feeling better and went out to do a little pick-pocketing. I was short of money... no, actually I had enough, but I needed to buy something. I managed to pick up a sovereign and went to a gentleman who sold canvas and paints. I don’t know why, but I brought the whole range. Canvases, oils, watercolours, brushes, charcoal, pastels, fine paper, everything I thought Liam might need. The owner even helped me back to the tavern with my purchases. I dump them in my room, and sit on the bed staring at them all night.

What am I doing? Why this so important to me? Why does it hurt so much, when I remember his face when his father broke those pastels? Why? This isn’t me; I don’t care what a human feels. I just kill them, that is all I’m here to do. Just to kill Liam, make him Angelus and wait for my Dru to be born. Nothing more. I don’t want there to be anything more! I don’t want to fucking love him! Love him! Fuck! Where the hell did that thought spring from? Oh god, what is happening to me?

I haven’t seen Liam all week. I haven’t left this room since he ran out and I brought that stuff. I just stare at his artist materials and wonder what the hell I’m going to do with them. Give them to him like a present? I, the big bad giving beautiful young men presents?

It’s around 9pm when there is a knock at my door. I don’t answer it, since I know I’ve already paid the innkeeper. The impatient knuckles rap again, and a soft voice is heard.

“Master Will?”

Liam? I jump up and open the door. Standing before me, is the dishevelled form of Liam. His hair is unkempt and his clothing dirty. At his feet is a small suitcase, brimming over with hurriedly packed belongings.

“Liam? What can I do for you?” I pull the door slightly closed so he can’t see my gifts.

“I... I need a place to stay... I slept on the street last night and I... it was cold... I...” Liam looks at me with tear filled eyes, his dirty face is already streaked with them.

“You left home?” I inquire surprised.

“I was angry and I left, I said I’d not lack for a place to go, but I...” He trials off looking miserable. He won’t go home. I know that. However, he’s no where else to go. “I’ll pay... I don’t have any money... but yer can...” He swallows, and chokes out the rest, “You can have me.”

“You offering me your body in payment,” I clarify stunned.

Liam nods, but his eyes don’t leave the floor.

“You would let me touch you, kiss you?” Liam is offering himself to me? I just can’t get it in my head.

“Aye,” he murmurs.

We stand in silence for many long minutes. I just can’t figure this young man out. What would cause him to do this? Do I want him like that? Do I want to touch him, kiss him? I look at his young human face. His warm full lips, deep brown eyes and... yes! - I want him.

“Have you eaten?” I manage to ask. Liam shakes his head. I take his suitcase and put it inside my room. “First, we’ll get you something to eat,” I bid him. Liam nods and follows behind me, as I walk downstairs. I tell the new barmaid to bring some food for Liam, and we sit in a corner table. Liam doesn’t meet my eyes, and when his potatoes and meat are brought in, he eats it silently.

“I am ready now,” he tells me softly, when he‘s finished his meal. He cleans his mouth with a handkerchief and waits for me to move.

Ready for what? I’ve been too busy watching his beautiful mouth open and close, to think of anything else. Watching his long throat muscles move as he swallows, amazes me. He has an exquisitely thick, corded neck, perfectly biteable. I’ve completely forgotten what he’s here for. Then suddenly I remember he’s expecting me to touch him - well, fuck him. He’s very nervous, and truth is, I am too - desperately anxious. So bloody petrified in fact, I don’t think I can stand at this moment. He must think I’ve done this before. I haven’t! I haven’t a clue about what I am supposed to do! I hide my shaking hands in my lap and we sit in silence.

“Why did you leave home?” I question him suddenly, trying to break the ice.

Liam looks up at me and there are fresh tears in his eyes. He waits a moment before talking, considering what he should tell me. “He caught me,” he whispers in the end.

“That night when I err... left you, I went home and tried to seduce the maid. I just wanted... I wanted to feel something. Leaving you left me empty, and I... Well, he was furious and hit me. The next day, I came home drunk and tried to steal more of his silver and... he was waiting for me. I know it’s wrong but... but, I don’t know what else to do... He took my paints away, my easel, everything! He burned them. I have nothing... no, I am nothing!” Flesh tears fall from his dark eyes and he fidgets with his sleeve. I look down and notice flesh burn marks on his wrists. Rope burns.

“He beat you,” I remark softly.

“I deserved it. He brought the local priest in and he said I needed the devil beaten out of me,” he mumbles, ashamed of his abuse. He pulls at his sleeves, covering the marks. “I left the next day, I packed my stuff, said goodbye to... to Kathy and left. I’ve been staying with Mary, but her husband came home and found me... and... I don’t have anywhere to go... I can’t... I can’t go home,” he sobs.

I shiver at the thought of him being beaten again. I think his father really believes he’s trying to help his son. Trying to save him from himself. Liam is a free spirit though. To tie him down to a merchants job would kill him. To tie him to family life would do the same. I never knew this about Angelus. I never dreamed he would be wild and free like Liam is. Gods, he’s making me hard. I love his fire, his stubbornness, and his lust for life. A lust that has been tainted by his cruel father. I can hear his blood pounding in his veins like a drum, it’s so loud and calls out to me. Liam is full of life, spirit, virility and I want it all.

“You don’t have to go home,” I leer seductively. I lean across the table and lick his cheek, faster than any human could. Liam shivers with my quick touch, and his eyes flutter closed for a moment. I stand up and take his hand. The place is full of people, talking and laughing, but I don’t see anyone but him. Beautiful, breathing Liam, well, soon to be dead, un-breathing Liam. I smile as he rises to his feet.

“I fear that smile,” he whispers back. Liam’s clever too. He knows I’m planning something.

I walk out of the bar, and up the narrow staircase. Behind me, Liam follows and I almost feel dizzy with my nervousness. I just have to get control over myself. I am the big bad, an evil murdering vampire. Nothing scares me... but... well, almost nothing. Apart from the thought of touching the heavenly creature walking behind me. My hand trembles as I open my bedroom door and I pull him inside. I light one candle and put it beside the bed. The soft light creates shadows across his face. I can still see his eyes, they shine in the light, the dark brown filled with fire.

“You would do anything?” I ask enticingly, “You would strip for me?”

Liam shudders and gasps softly at my words. He doesn’t speak, as I sit on the bed watching, and he starts to undress. A part of my brain is screaming at me not to do this. Not to take him as payment for a room. I just can’t stop. I think about him and I can’t... won’t stop. He’s partly naked, only his breaches remain, when I stand and stop his hand.

“Would you whore yourself to me?” I ask, staring into dark, stormy eyes.

“Aye.”

I grab his hair in one hand, and standing on tiptoe, I ravage his mouth. I kiss, tongue and nip at his mouth, making him gasp for breath. He doesn’t pull away this time, and let’s me continue. He’s serious about his offer. I could take him, bonk him all night, and he won’t stop me. I pull away from his lips and grin. Hey, I’m evil. There’s no way I’m going to say no to a willing body. I know he’s male and stuff... but I want him. I can’t stop thinking about him. If I have him, them maybe I can go back to hating him. I fuck him, turn him, then say goodbye and good riddance. Yes, bad sex will make me stop loving him. I can’t see how two men can ever have good intercourse, so my plan is fucking perfect.

I release his mouth, and run my fingers down his back. Liam gasps in pain and I move away. Slowly, I walk around him and stare at the lashes on his back. New lash marks override the old ones. These look to be done by a wooden cane. My fingers touch the healing wounds, and Liam groans again.

“Strip,” I command him. He unlaces his breaches and pushes them from lithe hips. He kicks them off, and stands in all his full, naked glory before me. I walk around him and stare at his half-erect cock. He’s very well endowed, with 10 inches of penis, which is thick and straight. Large balls hang between his legs, and I just can’t control myself, so I touch him gently. My cool hand runs up the underbelly of his cock, nothing more. Liam groans and I swear he gets a little harder. I move around the back and stare at his buttocks. The cane marks travel down his back, into the small and across his cheeks. Red welts and blood marks his toned, perfect skin.

I stand behind him and lick roughly at one of the marks. The slight taste of his blood fills my mouth, and I move on to the next, then the next. I haven’t a clue what I’m going. I just continue licking down his body. My tongue cleaning, worrying and lapping away the flesh blood. Liam’s flesh quivers, and trembles under my touch. His body hitches with soft moans and a few sobs. I can smell his fear, his disgust. Overlapping that smell, however, is the sweet scent of his full arousal.

Never! Never, will I understand what happened in this room. Even if I live to be a thousand will I ever comprehend how I felt then. And why I did what I did. Just touching that smooth, firm skin made me so hard, I believe I could have broken stone with it. My breaches are stretched up so much, trying to contain my rampant erection, that the rough material hurt the sensitive cock head. When I reach Liam’s buttocks, I knelt behind him, and lapped at the redden welts. I hear his terrified little gasps and sobs, but I can’t stop. I can’t stop touching him. His body is screaming for me to take him, even if his mind rebels against it. But it isn’t my brain that wants to shag him; it’s every other part of me. My hands, my legs, my cock, my heart are screaming to touch him. Take him.

“My slut!” I murmur, as I press my face into his firm buttocks. Another soft sob arises from his chest, but I don’t take any notice of it. My fingers part his hard cheeks and I stare at the small anal opening. I have come from the twentieth century, so with all the sexual openness I know how men have intercourse. Still, his anus looks so tiny and I have to wonder how I will fit in? Oh, and I just remembered another problem - lubricant.

I stand up, reluctantly breaking contact with his luscious body and lean up, whispering into his ear: “Clean off the sideboard and lean over it.”

Tear filled eyes turn to mine, but Liam nods and does as I say. He removes the water basin, resting it on the floor and leans over the end of the sideboard. His body‘s weight is pressed against the wood, and his ass sticks up in the air before me. I strip off my clothing quickly, and Liam swiftly closes his eyes in shame at the thought of looking at another man. I don’t really care. I just do this and I’ll forget Liam, forever. I’ll be amazed if I even come.

I can’t find a lubricant, so I’ve decided to use my own blood. Liam has his eyes closed so I doubt he’ll see it. I bite into my long index finger and press the bleeding digit to his hole. With my other hand, I part his cheeks and work my finger inside.

“Ohh!” he yells, with sudden surprise and fear. I look down at his face and he bites his lip trying to keep silent.

He’s so damn tight in here. Warm, tight, and soft. I didn’t expect that. I press deeper and push past the outer muscles. Inside, he’s so bloody hot, and feels so different to a woman’s slick channel. I just have to press another finger in and have a feel around. Liam moans are louder and not all of them are from pain. His tiny hole expands around my fingers, letting me inside, as I caress the soft inner tissue. After a minute or so the muscles start to contract around my fingers and Liam starts gasping. I look down and I can see his hard length, fully erect and pressing up onto the hard wood. He tries to rock a little on my fingers, pushing his cock into the sideboard as he attempts to get a little friction.

I’ve decided I’ve had enough of fingering him. Now I want to experience that hot, manly passage around my cock. Liam still has his eyes closed, so I slit my wrist with a sharp fang, coat my erection and press myself to his body. I hold my now slick rod in my hand and guide it into his tiny anus. He gives a soft sob as my cock head opens him up wide. It’s slow going, but once I’ve got the crown inside, the rest of me forces him open.

“Fuck!” I cry as the tight muscles grip me harshly. I can feel him tensing up, and I'm effin’ stuck! I almost shout at him, but I don‘t... I couldn‘t stand him getting any tighter. My throbbing cock starts to hurt, so I lean over, pressing my chest to his back and gently start kissing his neck.

“Liam, open yourself to me, my little whore.” He groans, and sobs at my words. “You’re so fucking tight, my virgin. My beautiful boy.” I don’t know why I say what I did. Words of cruelty and kindness, all mixed into one. It’s just so hard to bloody think when your cock is being gripped by powerful male anal muscles.

“My beautiful tight slut, my boy, my angelic lover...” I murmur nonsense into his ear, but it seems to be working. Liam’s muscles start to relax and I press in deeper. “Damn, so fucking tight, Liam! Can you feel how tight you are, how fiercely you grip my cock?” I can’t believe that I start to pant, to breathe with him. I’m encased so deep inside his warm, taut ass and it‘s bloody perfect. His blood slick channel throbs around me, gripping and releasing my hard length. “Your ass is so tight, so beautiful. I am your only lover, Liam. This tight little ass is mine, forever!” I lick his ear and give him a harsh thrust. Words just fly from my mouth, without thought and consideration. I have no idea where they are coming from, but just by being inside him, I feel as though he’s mine, totally, body and soul.

“Yes,” he groans, as I start a deep, powerful rhythm. With his acceptance, I can’t hold myself back. That one word and I’ve totally lost it. I thrust in hard, then pull my cock all the way out before slamming back in again. Liam grips the sideboard with desperate fingers, his nails marking the wood. His cock is being slammed into the side panel with painful force. I can’t stop, I just let the demon, and the sexual need take over me. I lose myself in his body, his smell, and his feel. I pound into that tight hole, until it feels as if the whole world starts and ends there.

Suddenly, I smell flesh blood from his constricted channel and my thrusts become frenzied. I know I’m tearing him. He cries, yelling in pain and passion. My words vanish and I snarl, my vampire face coming forth, fangs dripping with saliva, just waiting to bury themselves into his warm throat. His body trembles and shivers as my thrusts slightly change angle.

“Yes!” he screams and his hips thrust back crashing against mine. I smell his sudden ejection, and his warm semen covers the hard wooden sideboard. The smell and knowledge that he’s come, completely does my head in. I pound desperately into his throbbing ass, making him scream. When I feel myself coming, I dive at his thick neck, and sink my fangs into his vein. My cold jism floods his thoroughly fucked passage and drips down his legs. His warm heavenly blood fills my mouth, and I just swallow and *swallow* him down. I want to eat him all. Taste him. Have him.

“Will,” Liam groans, as his body weakens, and he collapses against the wall. In a panic, I rip my fangs from his throat, and my softened cock slips from his raw anus. “Will,” he moans again. I know I’ve taken a bit too much blood, but I just couldn’t stop myself. To my shock, and horror, he felt just too good for me to even attempt to stop. I wanted to fuck him... to feed from him, forever. It is an absolute surprise that I orgasmed so energetically from taking him. That he felt the way he did. A male, the same sex, really did it for me, more than anyone else did. I wanted to continue for all time, encased in his tight anal channel.

I fall away from Liam’s body and sit stunned on the bed. No! This can’t be right. It can’t! I love women. I love Dru. I love their soft feminine curves, breasts, flared hips and slick passages. How could I get off with a man? His strong, hard body, smooth, wide flat chest, and hard, little brown nipples. The robust build, his solid stomach muscles, those beautifully formed abs, that long perfect cock, round, softly haired balls, firm buttocks, damn fine cheeks that redden as I pound into his tight - oh, so tight - hole. Oh god! Blast in hell! No!

No. I refuse to accept it. I refuse to believe he’s turning me on just by thinking about his form. I look down however, and there is the bloody proof. My cock is rock hard and dripping pre-cum. I don’t believe it! I sigh and bury my head in my hands.

I can hear Liam starting to regain consciousness, and lift himself off the sideboard. I’ve drained him a little too much, and he collapses onto the floor with a thud. I look down and stare at his tear streaked face. I feel a sudden pang of guilt, because I used him like a whore. Guilt, because I want more. I just can’t let him go. I should tell him to leave, go home, and make peace with his bloody father, anything but stay here. If he does, I just know by the end of the day, that I’ll be fucking him again. And I don’t want to! I don’t want to have his gorgeous, male body under mine. Never again! I like women! Okay! Always have, always will. That’s the last time I ever do this. Ever!

I look over at Liam and he’s curled himself up, with head on his knees, sobbing away. Oh, shit! I stand up and pull back the covers to my bed.

“Liam, get in the bed!” I shout at him. He shakes his head and doesn’t move. “You’ve just fucking paid for it, now get in!” I don’t know why I hurt him like I do. Why I use such cruel and heartless words. But I can’t comfort him, because I know it will just end up with me kissing him again. I can’t do that! I can’t ever touch him again. Liam carefully gets to his feet, and slowly limps over to the bed. As he passes me, I spot the blood and cum leaking from his torn anus. More feelings of remorse pass through me, but I don’t do anything. I just watch as Liam lies in the feather bed, turning his body away from me, and resting his head on the soft pillow. I climb in next to him, and he stiffens.

“You were cold,” he murmurs sleepily.

“You have warmed me,” I whisper back. His human blood thunders through my body, warming my dead veins. As I settle near to him, his blood fills my nostrils and it’s all I can smell. Strong internal blood. I sigh; I’m never going to sleep with that. I know what I have to do to rid him of this smell, this heavenly scent of his blood.

“What?” Liam yelps as I manhandle him, turning him on his front. His body trembles, so I massage his clenched back muscles.

“Shhh,” I hiss into his ear. I move down his body, where that strong blood smell is coming from. That tight, slightly torn, little hole that so pleasured my cock. I lean down and lick over his tasty anus. I can taste my own blood and cum, and under that, Liam’s sweet flavour. For some reason, beyond my comprehension, I can’t get enough of this young, male, Irish mortal. I can’t taste enough of his sweet, sugary blood. I press my tongue to his opening, and proceed to lick him clean. I tend the tiny tears, then push my tongue deeper inside.

“Will!” Liam whimpers, rocking his hips back into my face. I push my tongue past his outer ring of muscle and taste more of his blood and essence. My hands pull him up on his hands and knees, then slip around to grasp his hard length. I pump him as best I can, and he gasps, groans and then yells his release. Finally, as he softens, I pull away from his now clean hole and fall back beside him. I groan and cover my eyes with my arm. I can feel Liam staring at me, still in his kneeling position.

“Liam, go to sleep!” I snarl at him, turning on my side facing away from his questioning eyes.. I hear him lie down, heaving a large, confused sigh.

What the hell have I done!? What am I doing? I promised myself I wouldn’t touch him again, but I kept that promise for what - five bloody seconds?! Fuck, I disgust myself. Trying this effin’ time spell was one of the most brainless plans I’ve ever had. I’ll kill that Willow, in two and fifty year’s time!

~*~*~*~

It must have been late afternoon when I finally opened my eyes. At first I couldn’t understand why I wasn’t alone in bed, and then with shocking clarity, it all returned to me. Liam appearing on my doorstep and offering me his angelic body. Being my whore for a place to stay and a good meal. I rubbed my tired eyes and turned around.

Liam was awake and staring at my pile of artist’s materials stacked in the corner. He didn’t see it last night; he was too busy being fucked. He hasn’t dressed, but has the sheet covering his private parts. He doesn’t even notice me awaken, and contemplate him. He just gawks at the easel and paints.

“You like?” I ask with a grin.

“Huh?” Liam jumps a little at the unexpected sound of my voice, but then turns to look at me, a light blush on his cheeks. “I didn’t know yer were an artist.”

“I’m not. It’s for you.” I roll over and climb out of the bed; I snatch up my breaches and pull them on.

“For me? Why?”

“Because you’ve lost your own,” I answer casually. Never mind the fact that I bought them before I knew his father had destroyed the others. I pick up a sheet of clean white paper, and lay it over the easel, then grab the new charcoals. There is something I want and the truth is, I’m afraid to ask him. I walk back to the bed, and hand him the equipment, then position myself on the edge next to him.

“I want you to draw me,” I ask nervously, “Err... you do draw portraits?”

“Aye, I can draw anything I can see,” he answers assertively.

He takes up the materials and lays the flat easel over his lap. I watch with interest, as he prepares his artist tools, and then scrutinizes my face. At this moment, I am so relieved it’s impossible for me to blush. His glazes at me so directly, as if he’s mapping out every square inch of my face. Very slowly he picks up a charcoal and starts to scratch away on the paper. I watch his hand, and the marks he positions so carefully, but my eyes can see no pattern in his arrangement. They just look like smudges on the paper - black marks in a sea of white, nothing more.

Liam is held spellbound by his sketching. His full concentration is on the paper and my face. His eyes flick between paper and skin, directing the movement of his hand. I give up trying to work out Liam’s composition and just study his face. His eyes are so full of intelligence, devilment and deviousness, but now shining with intense concentration and beauty. He chews his bottom lip, without realising, as he plots the smudges onto the paper. His brow furrows, as his eyes narrow in on one point of my face, and then he transfers what he sees to the medium before him.

I’ve lost track of all time; I just watch his face and his every movement. We must have sat there for hours, because I can hear his stomach start to rumble. He’s totally oblivious to it, however, and just continues to sketch. Suddenly, his hand stills and he gives the portrait a once over. Then, with a shy look, hands the finished article over to me. I gaze stupefied at his work. The smudges, marks and lines of charcoal have been transformed into me. It’s a picture of me! My face and part of my bare chest. Me! I haven’t seen myself in nearly 150 years. I look... wow... it’s me.

“It’s me...” I whisper.

“Ye sound surprised,” Liam comments, watching my reaction to his portrait with keen interest. “Ye are an artist’s dream. The fine cheekbones, defined bright blue eyes, pale skin...” Liam trails off and I look up to see his face flushed red.

“You would not believe how long its been since I’ve seen myself,” I tell him truthfully.

“Ye are very handsome,” he whispers. That red blush seems to be travelling further down his body.

I lean over, with a sudden urge, and kiss warmed lips. Liam makes a soft moaning sound, but he doesn’t pull away. The kiss is light and quick, more from gratitude than desire. When I pull away, however, there is a definite sign of his desire. The sheet covering his lap is undoubtedly more tented than before. Liam dips his head suddenly, and looks at me under shy lashes. I can’t help but stroke my finger down his face. So warm, so red, and so mine.

Mine? I jump away from him, instantly grabbing my shirt. I have got to stop thinking about him like that, gods, anyone would think I love him. Just to make this clear - I don’t! No! I don’t love Liam. Nope, no way! Right!

“Uhm... you want to join me for dinner?” I ask, remembering his rumbling stomach. I hate how I say it, because it sounds like I want to be with him. That I want to sit, eat and talk with him. I look over at Liam, but he’s afraid and hesitates. “Look, you can stay tonight; the portrait was your payment, Okay?”

Liam nods, accepting my offer and starts to dress. Wow! He’s so big, tall and burly. I turn away quickly, taking my mind off his features. Meanwhile, my cock has a complete mind of its own and is instantly erect with the thought of Liam’s naked body.

Not much later, we sit in the crowed tavern, me drinking more of that disgusting ale while Liam tucks into his potato and meat dinner. Tonight, he’s more relaxed and while he eats, we talk. Mainly about casual things like the weather, the wars, and the politics. When I mention his family, Liam goes silent. That changes when I mention his sister, Kathy.

For Kathy, Liam’s eyes brighten and he unconsciously smiles. He narrates how she arrived from an unexpected pregnancy, his mother being considered far to old to bear children. She was 12 years younger than he is, and his father had wanted her to be a boy to replace his useless son. In the end, he was terribly disappointed and Liam gained an unwanted sister. His father took little interest in the girl and Liam had spent most of his younger years looking after her. Protecting her from his father’s beating. When he became 23, after his disgrace, his father despised both children even more and Liam’s beatings became even more desperate. His father hated his attitude and his desires to draw and paint, and saw only evil in the love the two siblings shared. The love of a father and daughter, because that is what Liam became to Kathy. The only parent she ever knew.

Liam believed himself to be worthless, tainted and beyond redemption. So much so that he sold his own body for a bed to sleep in. He’d prostituted himself because he believed there was nothing in the world for him. When asking if Liam could have married, he laughed and replied: that he would have nothing to offer any girl. He was a disgrace to his family, a failure and had an iniquitous reputation. His father had given him prejudiced proof of his insignificance and valueless existence. Liam has absorbed every word. He’d never thought of even selling his services as a painter, or doing portraits. No, his father has informed him it is a trivial and worthless attribute. I have never encountered such a man as Liam. One so destroyed and degraded by his Father. His confidence and self-worth are non-existent. His father told him he’s nothing and Liam believes him.

I reconsider my memories of Angelus, that his evil deeds might have been a way to prove he was at least skilled at something. Even if it was killing, torture, and mayhem. I understand maybe that that is where some off Angelus‘ pain arises from and his denial of all feeling. Why he never loved; he killed the only person he ever cared for - Kathy. After that there was no one else, no one who touched his heart like she did.

“I suppose I will have to go home, I’m out of money and no one would be willing to employ me,” Liam is saying.

I shake myself from my thoughts, having missed most of his conversation for the last few minutes. I smile, and I know I have a resolution for his problem.

“You have me,” I reveal to Liam. He looks up with amazed eyes. “You are my whore, that gorgeous body and tight ass will pay plenty for a bed. You don’t need to go home.” I grin at him, as my words make that wonderful blush creep across his face. I almost said ‘lover’ instead of whore. I can’t accept that, not yet, I don’t want him as a lover. I don’t love him, but I am going to admit that I want him. That I’ll pay anything, give anything to fuck him again.

“You want me to touch you again, don’t you?” I swear that blush has spread to the rest of his body. I’d love to have him strip right here, so I could find out for sure.

“It is a sin,” he whispers back. Men have been jailed for sodomy in this time.

“I just love how you say that. I am sinful, evil, cruel and so much more. One might conclude you like that, judging by your beautiful blush and erect cock,” I make a show of glancing down at his stretched breaches, making him redden even more. I don’t think he’s ever been as timorous about anything, like he is with me. “Admit it,” I try to sway him, leaning forward and glazing into his dark, lusty eyes. Liam licks his lips, as if preparing to kiss me, then drops his hands into his lap, hiding his rampant erection. I wonder if it’s because it would anger his father that he would remain with me: prostituting his body to me. Or is it because he wants to, because he likes what I did to him. If given the chance of having a good job or fucking with me, which one he would chose? Liam could leave me, find some woman to stay with, but from the looks of him, there is no intention of doing so. He hasn’t even flirted with the new barmaid.

“I would rather be your whore, than be nothing,” Liam whispers to me out of the blue.

His words shock me. I never expected him to want to stay with me, not really. He’s a big, strong, sexually healthy young male, and capable of attracting many fine women. And yet, he would rather be here with me? More importantly, he’d be here touching a member of the same sex. I have known him for such a short time, yet he seems so open in his actions. There is nothing cryptic or unseen in Liam’s character, making him so un-characteristically dissimilar to Angel. I know he speaks the truth when he says he would stay - stay and be my whore.

“You aren’t nothing,” I answer gently. Liam shakes his head and looks away from me. I can see his pain. His father has done this to him; he has destroyed Liam’s self-esteem and worth. He looks back at me, with a sudden desperate look in his eye. Something has obviously scared the living shit out of him, but I see nothing.

“Please, take me upstairs. Make me pay for my meal and board,” he begs frantically, his words shocking. Then my eye catches a figure entering the tavern; I finally comprehend Liam’s sudden desire to leave. His father. Most likely he’s come here to look for his errant son. Liam’s whole body seems to cave in upon itself with his father’s presence. I nod and take his arm. We leave the main room, disappearing up the stairs before his father has chance to spot him. I feel Liam’s body trembling, and I smell his fear and desperation to escape the man who abused him.

I hustle Liam into our rooms and proceed to strip him of his clothing. Tears fill his eyes again, this time not because of our coupling, but from the appearance of his father. I am a heartless, soulless demon and yet when this young man cries, I feel as though I am breaking inside. I believe I am watching something of such importance dying before my eyes. This beautiful man, breaking like glass, his being shattered into a million pieces by the violence of his uncaring kin.

I have made up my mind. Now, at this instant! Yes, I have a new plan. No longer will this boy be my whore; he will be my childe. I don’t care its not the right date, but I’m turning him tonight. Now. Well, after sex that is.

“Liam, do you like this village?”

Liam turns to me and I stop undressing him. “No, once I wished to see the world, but I can’t see that happening.”

“Do you like your life?”

“Nay,” he sobs.

“Do you want me to give you a new one?”

“Aye.”

Well, that’s a good enough answer for me. I attack my clothing, ripping it from my body and then pounce on Liam. I rip his breaches from long legs, and push him down onto the feather bed. I want him so much; it’s almost painful. I’ve never wanted anyone like I want this beautiful Irish boy.

“Will,” he whines. I smell a delectable mixture of fear and need arising from him. Just perfect! It will make his blood all the sweeter.

I don’t answer him. My body is on automatic. It wants to touch him, take him, and make him mine. Soon he will be. All mine. My hands grab his long legs, pushing them up and apart. That beautiful, tiny entrance is brought into view and I press my hard length against him. Liam pants and struggles a little, his fear overriding his desire. He’s not seen how I take him before. Last time he was pressed against the sideboard, this time he’s getting the front seat view.

I press my cock head against his hole and his eyes widen in astonishment. My hands grip his hips and lift slightly, allowing me to press deeper inside. The acorn shaped crown disappears inside Liam’s body and he screams in pain. There is no lubrication this time. I thrust harder, shoving my cock all the way in. I can feel his tight passage tearing around me, warm, dark blood easing my passage.

“Please... no...” he moans. His hands clutch at my arms and I see black bruises appearing.

I can’t stop. I wish I could explain to him what I am experiencing. I just can’t talk, can’t help wanting to fuck him. I want inside. When I’m fully encased, I wait a moment, before drawing out and plunging back in. Liam’s eyes widen even more, when he sees his dark blood coating my erection. To me, it’s the most exotic sight. I stare at his face now. I see his fear, the tears in his eyes, but under all that I see his desperate desire. My thrusts are becoming more violent with each passing second. More deeper, drawing out more blood, staining the white sheets. Liam arches into my embrace, and when I move forward, his lips seek out mine. We kiss with a previously undiscovered passion. I know this will be the last time I will taste his warm mouth. After this, he’s going to be the same temperature as me. I’ll miss that warmth, but I’ll have him untouched and unchanged forever.

“You. Are. Mine,” I inform him with each vicious thrust. “Forever.” Thrust. “My.” Thrust. “Whore.” Thrust. “My.” Thrust. “Lover!” That word surprises me and I didn’t intend to scream it out loud.

“Yes!” Liam wails.

My face morphs into my true features. Liam doesn’t shriek and he doesn’t struggle against me. He’s not afraid of death. If anything, he presses his body closer to mine, arching his corded neck towards my fanged mouth. I memorise his sweaty form, his heat; his hot cock crushed against my stomach for the last time. The sensations of his searing blood lubricating my cock. That pain in his eyes, which I know, will vanish when he becomes Angelus. I’ll keep in my heart a picture of Liam’ face, which will soon become Angelus’.

“Goodbye, Liam,” I whisper, as I drive for his neck. I rip out his throat, hot blood spattering my face, and I gorge myself on the feast of mortal Liam’s blood. I feel Liam’s hot semen cover my chest, moments later, my cool seed fills his torn passage.

“Mine!” I scream, as my orgasm rages through me, my cock thrusting forcibly into him as he starts to fade. I feel him dying. I feel his body starting to cool, and go slack around me. His hands lose their grip on my arms and flop down onto the bed. At that instant, I bring a sharp nail to my throat and slash my jugular.

“Drink of me, Liam. Be my Childe, forever.”

I lift Liam up and press his mouth to my neck. I feel my blood flowing out and for the longest moment of my life, he doesn’t move. He’s so still and I fear that I’ve lost him. Before I can speak, his mouth covers my open wound and he begins to swallow my infectious vampire blood. I have never felt a feeling of jubilation as I do now. Liam is my first childe. My first, and most perfect childe. Mine, forever. At this moment I don’t think about who I am, where I’ve been, what I want. I just feel his mouth taking my life’s blood, as I took his. I know that soon he will die, but he shall arise as my creation. I laugh as a thought fills my mind: I’m going to be a daddy.

Liam sucks until his body starts to shut down, he loses his grip on my throat and he falls limply back onto the bed. He dies. His soul shall leave him with death, opening the way for a demon to inhabit his gorgeous body. I shall mourn the loss of Liam. I think I loved him. Even though I shall never - ever, *ever* - admit it. I really went and messed up. I fell for a human male. A man destined to become my most hated enemy. Wait a mo...

Who said he had to be like Angelus was? Liam is not like Angelus. He’s fun to be around, carefree, lovable, and fucking sexy. He’s also a thief, a scoundrel, a seducer, a rake, and a terrible disappointment to his father. He’s is *my* childe, not that bitch Darla’s. Who said Liam has to be like Angelus? Oh no, I have plans for my childe. Things are going to change. Spike, aka William the Bloody, doesn’t follow orders. I never have done. I won’t now. When my childe awakes, things are going to go my way. Angelus will be mine and subservient only to me.

I don’t bury Liam; I don’t want him to endure the traumatic experience of digging your way out of your own grave. That’s enough to break any mind. Maybe it did that to the previous Angelus. Therefore, I’ve kept him here, in my bed, naked too. I’ve also done a lot of thinking. I need to bond Angelus to me. I need to make him dependent on me. There is an ancient legend that if your childe feeds from his sire first, before any human, it makes the bond between them stronger. I might have hated Darla, but at 400 and odd she was a fountain of vampire lore and information. I don’t know if this is true, but I’m willing to risk it.

Liam doesn’t awake the first night. He just remains rigid and still, as dead as a doornail on my bed. I only leave him for a moment, just to eat the new barmaid, and then I continue to watch over him. I really don’t understand what I am doing. Not deep down inside my heart. It’s fucking messed up, that’s what’s wrong with it. It’s full of love and need, and it’s messing with my head. Bugger it, I’m so bloody confused! Furthermore, I can’t seem to stop it. I don’t want it to stop, but then again I really do. I never wanted to love Liam, it just happened. I refused to accept it, but sitting here staring at my childe’ dead form, I can’t help but love him. It’s fucking stupid and damn annoying.

I hate how love controls my life. It brought me here - to this moment. My love for Dru made me do that time spell. In the end though, I can’t regret doing it. I can’t say I don’t wish to be here. Here watching my naked childe, waiting until he opens those perfect brown eyes. Waiting until I can shag him blind, and then go kill the whole village. Oh, I’m carrying out that part of history. That’s not going to change, but when it comes down to his family, that will.

“Sire,” a soft growl emanates from the bed. I look up from my chair, to see my childe has awakened. I stand excitedly and approach the bed. He’s so perfect. His body is hard, cool, and pale - almost like carved marble. His face is that of a vampire. Beautifully formed ridges, large golden eyes and long ivory teeth. I grin down at him.

“You know who I am?” I growl back.

“My Sire... my whore,” he gives a small smirk and laughs. There is no malice in his laugh, only humour. It surprises me. Angelus was never humorous - expect with his own private jokes, which no one else understood.

“Who am I?” I lean forward and my hand grasps his hard, erect length.

“My Sire, my master, my lover,” he groans out, as I squeeze him painfully.

“What are you?”

“Your Childe, your whore, your lover.”

Oh, yes. Mine. I smash my lips to his, our fangs snapping and biting into soft flesh. Blood taints our kissing, making Liam growl in hunger.

“Drink, Childe. Take your fill,” I instruct him, as I press his mouth to my neck. Long sharp fangs pierce my skin and he drinks me down. His hands grip my body, and he pulls me on top of him. We thrust long, hard erections against each other. I feel as if I am dying again in Liam‘ embrace. He’s taking my blood into himself with frightening speed, that it’s making me dizzy. In desperation, I grab hold of his hair, tilt his head, and sink my fangs into his throat. His new vampire blood fills my mouth and I gulp him down.

On and on we drink, swallow after swallow of life’s blood, we take into ourselves. We feed from each other, never breaking the cycle for what feels like hours on end. Soon, I swear I can hear a heartbeat. I don’t know what it is. It grows more powerful with each draft, and I realise it’s not a heartbeat but a word.

*Will... Will... Will... Will...*

There is another sound.

*Liam... Liam... Liam... Liam...*

Oh, Fuck!

I try to desperately to disengage myself from my childe. His grip is so strong and my blood lust really doesn’t want me to ever let go of him. We need to stop soon; I don’t know what happens to vampires like this. Can we continue forever? Because it’s fucking great... like vampire heaven! It’s as if we are living inside the blood, burning inside two bodies, making us one being. I can’t really explain it. I’ve never been good at emotional explanations. Take my poetry - bloody crap. This, I think, is love. Which is why I want it to stop. I want... need to break away from him or I shall go insane from the intensity of our union.

Suddenly, my orgasm crashes through my body, and cold seed spatters against my chest. It acts like a bombshell and I jerk away from Liam’s neck. The same happens with him and we are finally parted from the blood bond. I should have never have done this! I should have fuckin’ buried him and left like I had planned to in the beginning!

“I love you,” Liam whispers. His voice his rough, and filled with yearning.

What’s this? This can’t be right - Angelus never felt anything. He didn’t love. Has the bond worked? Is he different? I wish I could understand what the hell is happening here. I don’t. I don’t understand what I feel most the time. Love, one moment. Hate the next. I’m just one totally screwed up chap. I admit it. I am just love’s bitch. Always have been, that’s why I clung to Dru. This change of events has left me stranded in the emotional sense. I remember my Angelus, what he did, how he didn’t love a damn thing. I see this Angelus before me, and yet it is love I see in his eyes, desire that burns in his blood. What do I trust? My memories, or this new vampire before me. Hmm?

“Take me, Sire,” Liam moans into my ear, “I haven’t paid for tonight,” he chuckles huskily.

“My little slut,” I laugh. I think I’m going to go with what’s before me, right here and now.

I lean down and kiss his bloodied mouth. His features change back and I stare at his angelic human face. I think I’m going to go with the name Angelus. It describes him perfectly; also it puts fear into the hearts of his victims. They never expect such a handsome face to commit so much evil.

“Liam,” I murmur. His brown eyes look into my blue and he smiles. I think I’ll be keeping that name just for us. To me, he’s going to be Liam, just as I am Will to him.

I realise as I lean down and kiss his fine lips; I’ve never really discovered his body. I’ve fucked him, jerked him off, but I’ve never spent time touching and discovering him. I want to touch him now. These stupid feelings of love want me to caress him, and *then* fuck him into oblivion. Yep, that’s the way it’s going down. A good grope, then I’m shagging his tight bum.

I kiss down his first-rate body, caressing his strong, muscled chest and flicking hard brown nipples. Liam groans appreciatively under my touch, soft moans begging me to continue. His hands grip my arms and just hold me to him. I pull them away and wrap his fingers around the headboard. He grins when he gets the idea. Damn, if he ain’t even more beautiful spread out before me like a feast. His arms above his head, hands gripping the headboard, his legs open and me kneeling between them. My childe, wantonly lying before me, begging to be touched. How could anyone refuse that? Certainly not me!

I stroke his new vampire body. It’s cool and solid like marble. His stomach plane is ridged with muscle and his navel trembles at my touch. Ah, my childe’s ticklish there. I’ll have to remember that for punishment time. I move down and view his proud erection. He’s long, straight and thick, and I need both hands to travel the length of his girth. His balls are soft to my touch, as I roll them gently, giving them a little painful squeeze, which makes him purr. I leave his erect cock, pressing up against his stomach, and I stoke his finely haired thighs. His legs are long and well muscled. Large feet, but hey, everyone has a bad point, good thing they don’t smell.

My hands travel back up the length of Liam’s body, to that cock that begs to be sucked. I’ve never sucked a man before. I’ve given head to a woman, but this is very different. I test his taste by licking over the end, collecting the tiny drops of pre-cum from the exposed slit. The foreskin is pulled back by the strength of his erection and he throbs under my touch. I experimentally lick over his acorn shaped end, feeling the nerve endings jump under my touch. Liam gives another moan and arches his back slightly. My hands rest on his hips and I push him back down into the mattress.

I take the head of his penis into my mouth and suck gently. Liam shouts nonsensical words of enjoyment, and I take that as a ‘Yes’ to continue my administrations. I lick, suck the head and then move downwards to the point where is foreskin is attached. I tap the tip of my tongue against it and Liam almost jumps off the bed. He gasps and moans parts of my name and title. I think he likes this. I continue to suck, lick and tap around his cock head and foreskin. My hand wraps around as much of his cock as I can, and I pump him hard. Liam starts to rock against my face with little thrusts, and as I look up to see his head thrown back and his fanged teeth biting through his lips. He’s the picture of debauchery.

“Will!” he screams.

It’s the only warning I get before he fills my mouth with his cool, dead seed. He tastes creamy and a little sugary. Delicious! I let go of his softening cock, crawling back up his body. His eyes are still closed, and I study his elated face. He’s bitten right through his bottom lip, the blood staining his chin. I lean forward and lick it away. His blood tastes strange. Not as it did before. As I continue lapping it up, I hear that heartbeat of words again.

*Will... Liam... Will... Liam...*

I don’t understand it, but I think I like it. I like feeling him this close to me. This connected to me. Liam opens his eyes and grins down at me.

“Fuck!” he growls.

I agree entirely. I certainly want to fuck him. I give him a sly smile and start lifting his legs. Liam gets the message, and wraps his hands under his knees, pulling up his strong thighs to his chest, opening himself wide to me. That tight little opening is completely healed over, making it whole and perfectly tight. Perfect for me to rip into again. I don’t want to cause him too much pain, don’t ask me why. I just want to... I think I want to make love to him. I’ve never done this before. I lubricate my cock, and Liam watches with interested eyes.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmurs, “So perfect.”

I stare at him for a long time. No one has ever told me that, not even Dru. Well, she could never get her head around praising me.

“Do you want this, my little whore,” I speak of my cock and his eyes stare at it.

“Seadh, mo leannen,” he whispers, “Yes, my beloved.”

If I could only blush. I love this strange language he’s speaking. Gaelic, I think. I press my erection to his tiny hole, and he opens for me. Liam grunts, as I push past the constricted outer muscle, and we watch as my cock disappears inside him, making us both moan out our desire together. I lean forward and capture his lips. He tastes so damn good, full of blood and me, and even better as his tongue duels with mine.

“You are mine,” I tell him, as I start to thrust, our mouths connect with each forward motion. “Forever.”

“Yes, Sire” he agrees.

I think time stopped at this moment. I felt as if everything that had happened before - my whole life - has been a dream, and this is the only reality there was. Hey, it is! This is Angelus - all mine - and I can run with him forever. As I pound into my childe’s hard body, I’m filled with a desperate need to touch him deeper and deeper. Liam kisses and clings to me, his body thrusting and finding his own pleasure. His hips moving in small circles, adding to this intense pleasure. Eventually, Liam’ anus spasms around me, in its own little orgasm and moments later his cock follows, spewing his cum over my belly. The sight of his form, face, body, in so much pleasure, sends me crashing into my own mind-blowing orgasmic rush.

“I fucking love that bitch: Willow!” I scream as I come, which royally pisses my childe off.

~*~*~*~

Days later:

The tavern occupants took all night to kill. I just loved ripping them open, sucking them dry and then watching my lover do the same. Liam is such an avid pupil. He does his killing, his torturing - everything in my name. It’s such a great ego booster. He has so much style at killing, so perfect when he bites, never spilling a drop. These attributes are so like Angelus, but so unlike him, as Liam aims to please only me. He also gets inventive, ripping out intestines and trying his hand at a little torture. I don’t stop him; these are characteristics to be encouraged in a good vampire. When it’s over, I shag him in the blood-soaked room, and he laughs his joy at being what I made him.

I asked him there, whom he wishes to kill next in the village, that he could take anyone. He grins and ponders a moment, while I pound away.

“Any one?”

I nod.

“I thought we’d take the village.”

~*~*~*~

The next night, we killed Main Street, and the next the church meeting. This night, we visit Liam’s ex-parents. The surviving villagers can’t understand what’s happening. They couldn’t comprehend who or what was killing. An epidemic or a demon. In their fears, they boarded up their doors and put up crosses to ward away evil spirits. We arrive at Liam’ ex-parents home, as his father was doing just that. The old man turns and glares at his son. The anger is making his eyes burn, and blushes his cheeks.

“I knew yer would be back, when yer found no one would take yer in,” he says wearily to my childe. “Whatever trouble yer have found, yer better go back to it.”

“Is that all yer can say to me, father?” asks my childe, with a slight grin. He stresses the word ‘father’ with distaste.

“If you’ve come for money,” he gives me quick glance, “I’ve none to give yer.”

“I haven’t come for yer money...”

“Liam,” shouts Kathy, as she runs from inside and throws herself into his arms. Liam is stiff for a second, but then wraps his arms around her. I watch carefully as he breathes in her scent, his nose pressed against her young throat. His tongue flicks out and licks her youthful neck. Liam groans deeply in his chest, and I observe as his face changes. Long fangs form and he presses them to her throat. At that instant, I make a decision. With a flash, I grab my childe's arm and jerk him back. From his grasp, I pull Kathy away to the safety of my own arms.

Liam growls at me: “I smell her blood, so sweet, so young. Can’t ye hear it?”

“She is not to be killed, Childe,” I lecture him, “You must learn to control the blood lust, you love this child and if you kill her, forever will you mourn her loss.” I have learned to understand some of Angelus pain. He killed this girl, his sister, the first time without thought or care. He only regretted later, but was unable to change his actions. Now I have, and hopefully, I’m changing the demon Liam becomes.

Liam relaxes and his face returns too normal. “I understand, my Sire,” he murmurs, looking shyly at me from under long lashes. He knows how to get me pacified after he’s angered me. He flashes those dark eyes, smiles shyly at me, and I’m jelly. It’s nauseating how he’s got me worked out so quickly. How he knows to get what he wants out of me. I also know how to do the same to him, however. Give him a good pout and he’ll drop his breaches anywhere.

All this time, Liam’s father has be staring, wide eyed at his dead son. “Demon... vile thing... unclean...” he murmurs. There is terror in his eyes as he beholds what his son has become. “Yer are no son of mine, Liam,” he cries. He lunges at Liam, attacking him with the hammer, which he’d been using to secure the cross to his door.

“Liam!” cries Kathy in warning, and Liam quickly jumps out his father’s way. He drives his elbow into the old man’s back and he collapses with a yell. Liam punches another fist into the back of his head, sending his father into oblivion. He’s not dead, and Liam picks up his unconscious form.

All this time, I have held Kathy close to me, and not once has she tried to escape. She saw her brother’s new face, but was not afraid. I also notice that I really hate anyone calling my childe - Liam. That’s going to be a name only I’m allowed to use - that name I heard in his blood.

“Kathy, invite us in,” I lean down and whisper into her ear. She’s calm and I release her from my grasp. I half expect her to run, but to her credit she doesn’t. She straightens her dress, turns to look at Liam, holding their father, and says in a clear voice:

“I invite you in, brother and friend.”

Inside, Liam dumps his father’s body into a chair in the kitchen. His mother runs in concerned about the noise and stares at her son. Liam says nothing, just walks away from his unconscious father and stands submissively behind me. His mother doesn’t speak, just moves to her husband’s side. I smell her utter terror and incomprehension. She is a simple woman, but I know she has to die. She never protected Liam from her husband’s wrath. Kathy, is another story, she moves over and takes her brothers hand. Liam is shocked at her acceptance and moves closer to me. He doesn’t understand her, or why she could still love him, even after seeing his true face. He doesn’t believe anyone could want him, not even her at this moment. He’s no longer her brother, but a vampire and my childe.

“Have you come for me?” Kathy asks her brother.

“Kathy!” her mother shouts in alarm.

“Sire?” Liam murmurs. He doesn't know what to do. His blood lust is calling for him to kill her, but the love he still carries for her refuses.

“Kathy,” I speak to her calmly and directly, “It’s best you go to your room. Things will happen here, and it will be better if you don’t see. You won’t be harmed.” I pull her away from Liam and she does as I say.

I turn to Liam now. “You are my Childe, and family blood is the sweetest. Now taste it!”

I watch my childe using his remarkable grace to pounce onto his unsuspecting mother. His strong hands wrap around her neck and he bites into the jugular. He drinks her down in huge gulps, and when finished, breaks her neck with a satisfying snap.

“Murderer!” his father screams, now awake. He lunges at Liam, but my childe easily throws him back into the chair. “You are no son of mine!”

“That’s where you’re right,” I answer calmly. “Liam is mine now. He’s my childe and he’s a fine one at that.” I run my hand over his board chest, and he grins at me. I can’t resist leaning up and kissing his lips. I taste the blood of his mother, and I can’t help but slide my tongue inside his mouth, licking him clean.

“Liam, what have you done?” wails his father, staring at his son kiss another man.

I snarl at him, my anger changing my face to demon form. “You have no right to call him Liam, never let that name cross your tongue again, or I swear I‘ll rip it out. He is Angelus, Childe of Spike, to you.”

“Angelus?” murmurs Liam. He smiles and kisses my neck, staring at his outraged father. “I like it.”

Liam stares down at his father, contemplating him, as he wraps his arms around my waist, resting his head on my shoulder. “Strange - somehow he seemed taller when I was alive. Now, he’s old and shrivelled.”

“Liam, go pack your sister’ things,” I order him. He looks a little startled at my request, but obeys me. He gives a last look at his father, hatred burning in those dark orbs and then vanishes into the back rooms.

“Be gone, vile demon,” Liam’s father spits at me.

I laugh, grab a chair and sit astride it facing him. “You can’t get rid of me that easily,” I laugh at him. “There are things I want you to know before your death, and you will die at the hand of my Childe.”

“What have you done to my son?” he cries, distressed and terrified of his own mortality.

“I, nothing. You did that all yourself. You drove him from his home and into the arms of death, my death. He came willingly to me, offered me his body and soul, and I accepted. Hell, who wouldn’t, he’s so fucking gorgeous. Then he has many other talents: drawing, kissing, screwing...” Liam’s father shivers at my words and he looks away from my face.

“There is one thing I want you to know before you die,” I lean forward and talk softly to him, making sure my childe cannot hear. “Liam was always destined to become a vampire, to become Angelus, the Scourge of Europe. He’s destined to murder and kill for the next 150 years, then he’s supposed to become en-soul-ed, and later a champion for the Powers that Be. The thing is - I’m not going to let that happen, he’s going to kill, pillage and rape for many years to come. And so too will your daughter. I just wanted you to know that. When he kills you, you will understand that it was your hand that created this monster, and he’s going to be the greatest vampire to walk the earth - thanks to all your hard work. Oh, after me that is.”

Tears falls from the old man’ eyes. He moans as Liam re-enters the room, followed by his sister, with her suitcase in his hands. I stand, taking Kathy’ hand and turn to my childe.

“You know what to do,” I turn to Kathy, “Little bit, go get your father’s horses, we will be leaving soon.” Kathy nods and leaves, not even glancing back at her father. There is no love lost there; the only parent she ever knew was Liam.

I watch silently, leaning against the wall, as Liam inspects his father. The old man weeps and trembles before him, tears staining wrinkled cheeks.

“Lord bind this demon now.”

Liam laughs, “To think I ever let such a tiny, trembling thing make me feel the way you did.”

“I pray ye, give me your protection, Father.” Liam’s father crosses himself, and in his eyes is true fear. Fear for himself, and maybe a little guilt for his past sins with Liam. He believes what I told him, believes that Liam will kill him, and he will know he drove his son to this end.

His words anger Liam making him lean closer, smelling his father’s sweet stench of fear. I see the spark of gold in his chocolate orbs. “You told me I wasn’t a man. You told me I was nothing - and I believed you. You said I’d never amount to anything. Well, you were wrong.” Liam morphs into his true face, which is bloody sexy, and snarls at the old man. “You see, father? I have made something out of myself after all.”

Liam pounces onto the old man, the force of his impact crashing them to the ground, the chair breaking beneath them. He tears into his father’s throat, gorging on family blood. Liam drinks desperately, not wasting a drop of his parents’ blood, until the old man is very much dead. But, just to make sure, Liam snaps his neck. He stands up, straightening his clothing and stares at his dead parents.

“Why do I feel empty, Sire?” he whispers, after a pause he says: “Have I defeated him?”

“You have killed him, but you can never make him approve of you.” I don’t know what to say to comfort my distressed childe. I’ve never really done this kind of thing. You know with being the big bad, you don’t comfort, or care about anyone’s feelings. I, for some strange reason, do care about him.

“Come, we will finish off the rest of the village and be on our way. We have to find a home for Kathy for the next few years, and then I will turn her.”

“We will be a family?” he asks softly, his voice uncertain, but strangely hopeful.

He has never known the concept of family and truthfully, neither have I. Not with a family that wants to be together, that *cough* love *cough* each other. I lean forward and press my lips to his.

“Yes,” I answer...



“I’m sorry, Spike, it didn’t work,” Willow shakes her head, and stands up from the floor.

What the fuck is going on? Where the hell am I? I look down at my hands. In one, I have a bag of lavender and in the other... a broken statue? I’m sitting in the same factory where Willow and I were before the time spell. I remember holding a broken doll’s face, not this statue thing. What is happening?

“Look you’ll just have to buy him a new one... oh, I forgot he made it. Okay! Then... Spike, just apologise to him, I’m sure you know how to do that,” she laughs lightly.

I still haven’t a fucking clue what’s she is talking about. I look around us and the room isn’t the same as when we started. There is no bed, no burned dolls on the floor. In fact, this place looks like it has never been burned. I check out my clothing, the same as I wore before, no difference there. Even Willow looks the same, but there is no Xander unconscious and bleeding from the head.

This is really pissing me off! I’ve decided to kill the little witch for messing up and bringing me back. I didn’t want to come back! I jump to my feet and grab her...

“ARRGGG!” I scream, clutching my throbbing head. The pain literally drives me to the floor and I clutch my skull. I swear it’s going to explode any moment, feels like a bloody bomb went off inside my brain. “What the hell?”

“Spike, what are you doing?” Willow picks up the spell book, and her ingredients. “Were you trying to bite me again?” she laughs, “You know you can’t, the chip won’t let you. Anyhow, I’ve got to go and see Oz. And about the statue, just apologise to Angel, okay?” She grabs her bags and leaves me, clutching my throbbing head on the floor.

What the hell is a chip? Why can’t I bloody bite her? I could before the spell! I pull myself up and brush the dirt from my clothing. I pick up the discarded statue and turn it over. On the base is a name - Angelus, CofS. I have no idea what that means. Angelus, Scourge of Europe, makes pottery? What weird dimension is this? And what does CofS mean?

“What the fuck is going on?!!” I scream. I can’t take this. I...

“Daddy, there you are.”

A soft female voice speaks from behind me; I spin around and face the new arrival. Before me is a petite woman, long brown hair, large chocolate eyes, and pale perfect skin. At first I thought Drusilla, but in reality she looked nothing like her.

“Kathy?” I ask, unsure of my eyes. Surely it cannot be, this woman is a vampire, and probably around twenty when she was turned. She is a real beauty.

“What are you doing?” she asks in a stern voice. She grabs the statue from my hand and glares at me. “You broke it? What were you doing, playing with it again? You know he won’t be pleased.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Somebody, just tell me what the fuck is happening!” I almost feel like crying.

“You had Willow do a spell, didn't you? You know she’s only just started with the whole magic thing. Doing the more complex spells, she’s bound to make mistakes. Maybe even serious ones. What did she do, remove your memory?” Kathy glides towards me and gently strokes my face. I take her hand.

“Look pet, I just need some answers.”

“I’m just in time then,” answers a horridly familiar voice.

“Whistler - this is all your fucking fault!” I turn and grab the little demon by his revolting Hawaiian shirt.

“Go home, Kathy; Spike will follow in a moment.” Kathy gives me a concerned look, but eventually obeys the demon.

“Where the hell is the place?” I scream, when she has left.

“You had better calm down, Spike.”

Whistler picks up the statue and turns it over. “Angelus sure does fine work. And where you are is back where you started. You’re in Sunnydale, the year is 1999. You got Willow to do a time spell, and it brought your present consciousness from 1753 back here. In time you will remember what happened in-between.”

Huh? “Huh? Look, I was in Ireland in 1753, I turned Liam... then I was here.”

“As I said, this second spell returned you back to 1999. This time, however, is different from the one you left.”

“I still turned Angelus? I lived with him for 250 years?”

“Oh yes, you did all that. You turned Kathy at 21, and she joined your little clan. You were known as the Scourge of Europe for a long time, actually that reign of terror just came to an end recently.”

“Oh, shit! Angelus got a soul!”

“Actually, no. You avoided that; you took him to America in 1890. He never killed the Gypsy, like he did the first time. He was never cursed with a soul. I tell ya, you really pissed the Powers with that little stunt.”

“Then... I... I don’t understand.”

“You, Kathy and Angelus are chipped. It was going to happen in the other timeline in a few years, to you in any case. Because you changed time *again*, the Powers just made sure you got chipped a few years earlier. A certain Maggie Walsh created an experimental behavioural chip, it prevents you from hurting humans, and you three were the test cases. I found you all in New York three years ago, and offered a new life, working with the slayer. You agreed and came to live here. In the end, the Powers have come out on top, with three champions instead of one. Great, isn’t it!”

Fuck! I really screwed up there, but at least Angelus never became that wimp Angel. A memory strikes me from the other time line, and I remember the very reason I did the time spell in the first place.

“Where’s Drusilla in this time? Is she waiting for me?” I ask him, hopefully.

“Angelus never turned her. In fact, you never let him sire any Childer, you were always too jealous.”

“What?! But I love her, don’t I?”

“I think you had better go home Spike, and answer that for yourself. Your memories of this new timeline should come back to you soon.” He throws me the broken statue, “Oh, and you’d better think up a good excuse for how you broke this.” He laughs and cocks his fedora. “Just remember, you can never win against the Powers that Be, even if you did give us a good run for our money. Oh, home is the mansion now.” He calls back, as he walks away.

I snarl at him as he leaves. Bloody Powers interfering with my Childer. I nearly won from the sounds of it. I nearly prevented them from having their warrior. Bloody do-gooders are always messing with my bloody life.

I make my way quickly over to the Mansion. I need to see how fucked up this timeline is. When I arrive at Crawford street, it‘s very different from what I remember. It‘s modern and well maintained, with new paintwork. The windows are painted black, and inside there is old, heavy furniture, with comfortable chairs. In the main room is a gigantic TV and sound system, before it a huge sofa. Over the fireplace hangs a old oil painting portrait. It’s me. Me - in fine clothing of the 18th century, bleached blond hair, and I have this little smile on my lips. It looks like I’m smiling at the painter.

I turn my attention away as I hear noises in the other room, and I open a door following the sounds. Inside is an artist’s studio. There are paintings, in oils and watercolours, line drawings and charcoals, statues and busts.

Standing before an easel is my childe - Angelus. He’s naked from the waist up, and I can make out that infamous tattoo on his back. His body is spattered with paint from the portrait he’s working on. It’s a facial depiction of Kathy; so beautifully drawn that it looks real, as though if you touched it, you could feel the texture of her skin. Next to Angelus sits my daughter, talking to him as he paints, after a long moment of staring at them, she finally notices me.

“Oh, I’d better leave, brother,” she says to Angelus. He quickly turns and gives me a strange look. “Good luck, Daddy,” she laughs, as she passes me. Kathy leaves us alone and I can only stare at my childe. He’s cut his hair, I notice. It’s short and sticks up like Angel’s did. He’s not Angel, however, I can tell from the way he holds himself, and the leather jeans he’s wearing. But is he still my Liam?

“Will, I found the statue you broke,” he says, casually cleaning his brush.

“It was an accident.”

“It was a present for Joyce, for selling a painting.”

He sells his paintings? Wow? Angel never did that in the other timeline. Hey, it must have been my inspired influence. I wonder if he makes a lot of money?

“How much did you make?” I ask, just out of curiosity, really!

“30,000 dollars.”

“Fucking Hell! We’ll buy her a new present!” 30,000 dollars for *a* painting! Yes! I’m rich. Angelus rolls his eyes at me in a patient way.

“You wanna make it up to me?” he asks shyly, when I’ve finished my little victory dance.

Huh? He puts down his brushes and slyly moves over to me. I swear my heart beats when all his moves remind me of Liam. His long arms slide around my waist and he presses his bare chest against my clothed one. He leans down and presses a sweet kiss to my lips and suddenly, as if I’ve been without him for centuries, I crush my lips to his and kiss him fervidly. Fuck! He starts pulling at my clothing and we quickly rip it away with desperate hands. My hands pull his jeans down and I grasp his hard length.

“Will, my beloved mate,” he groans. His mouth finds mine again and we kiss frantically.

Mate?! Angelus is my mate? Damn if this isn’t one screwed up world. “Liam,” I moan into his mouth.

“Yes, only Liam to you, always Liam.”

I kiss him passionately, and he pushes me up against a sideboard. This feels very familiar. His hands run over my naked skin and gently tease my cock. He grins, as he moves down and takes it into his wet mouth. He licks and sucks with a desperation I’m feeling too. Suddenly, his hands move lower and I feel one long, thick finger pressing into my hole. The added simulation drives me over the edge, and I come flooding his month as Liam swallows greedily. He then flips me over and presses that monster cock of his into my anus. I tear around him, and my blood lubricates my passage, as he thrusts all the way in.

“Yes!” I scream. I never dreamed it would feel this good. He is large, stretching me wide open, and when he starts to thrust, he hits a blissful nub inside me. With each plunge, I feel I might die again from immense - unbearable - pleasure.

“My little slut,” Liam growls into my ear. He chuckles, as he licks my throat.

“*My* little wench,” I snarl back at him.

“You’re the one over the sideboard,” he answers back. He thrusts more violently, his fangs press into my neck and I know we are going to come soon. One, two, three more thrusts and I am done for. I scream his name, as my cool seed paints the wood beneath me. My inner muscles spasm and clench around Liam’s length, and he follows me into ecstasy, his fangs breaking the skin of my throat as he casually laps at the blood that pools there. His body collapses against mine and he crushes me into the sideboard. I push him off and he slips out of my ass, falling to the ground with a slap.

“My turn,” I laugh as push Liam front first onto the stone floor. I ram inside him, and he yells in pain. “My whore,” I whisper into his ear. He starts to laugh, and I can’t help but join him.

Hours later, when I’m finally exhausted from repeated shagging, I‘ve decided that I might just like this new time line. My mate curls into my body and I know that I’ve always loved him. I know I love my daughter, Kathy too. Yes, life couldn’t get any better. Now, I just have to find out how the hell I get these chips out. Time for a new plan; I wonder if Willow can do another Time Spell?



The End.