Week Two: Strange Fathers
For some reason Justin felt more comfortable leaning against the stone figure of Bartox than on the couch or the bed. He drummed his finger against the Gargoyle’s paw and listened as Melanie complained about her Brian woes. He rolled his eyes thinking she didn’t know the least of it. At least he wasn’t alone; it seemed Emmett was as bored with the conversation as he was.
“We’re the ones who take care of Gus,” Mel continued. “We’re his parents. All Brian does is order us around and pretend he gives a shit. Justin, you and he are about to have your own child…tell him he needs to loosen his grip on us. You two will have your own family…you won’t need ours.”
“I can’t tell Brian what to do,” Justin said calmly.
“Who can?” Em snorted. “Well, unless you’re naked, have a nice ass and the only words that come out of your mouth are, ‘please fuck me’.”
“Or ‘Can I suck your cock?’” Justin laughed.
“Or possibly, ‘Did you know that Dolce and Gabanna have a new line of designer shirts out?’” Em added, slumping down into Brian’s leather Italian sofa. “Of course a naked man with cheeks parted would have to tell him that, but that’s beside the point.”
“I’m being serious!” Mel snapped.
“So are we,” Em retorted.
Mel went to Justin and leaned down to speak to him face to face. She didn’t want to be pushy, but she didn’t know what else to do. She was frustrated. She couldn’t stand being stuck with nowhere else to go.
“Justin, you have to help us!” Mel pleaded. “Talk to him! You’re the only one he even pretends to listen to.”
“That’s enough,” Em responded, standing up and heading towards Mel. He waited for her face him before he grabbed her by the arm and drug her out of the loft. He closed the door and whispered hoping Justin wouldn’t hear him. “Stop it.”
“What the hell are you doing?”
“You better listen to me,” Em whispered. “That ugly guy says that we need to keep Justin stress free, which means that you need to stop hounding him.”
“I’m just talking to him.”
“You’re just leaving,” Em declared when he saw Matt walk up the stairs behind Mel.
“I’m-” Mel began only to stop herself. She saw the look in Matt’s eyes and cringed. She had so much more to say, to both Em and Justin, but she knew she wouldn’t be allowed to say it then. Maybe later, she thought as she walked down the stairs, resigned to the fact that Brian won this round.
“Another problem with Brian?” Matt asked after Melanie had disappeared down the stairs.
“Isn’t there always?”
“I worry about her,” Matt said, opening the door for Emmett and closing it behind them.
“I worry about Brian,” Justin responded before Em could.
“Me too,” Matt agreed with a smile. “I worry about you too.”
“It’s your job,” Justin chuckled.
“True,” Matt conceded. “But I like my job and it is an honor to protect you and my Sire’s unborn.”
“You’re such a sweet talker,” Em said taking his seat on the sofa again. “Feel free to sweet talk your cute little ass right over next to me anytime.”
“Well, you don’t have to worry about protecting me anymore,” Justin declared. “I’m housebound.”
“Well, at least until the baby’s born,” Em corrected. “Then you can go out and cause as much havoc as you want. Then Matt can get all worried about you again with good reason.”
“I will always worry about Master Justin,” Matt proclaimed. “As much as I worry about some others.”
“That’s not such a bad thing,” Justin said, running his fingers across Bartox’s stone claws. He looked knowingly at Matt and smiled. “Especially since I hope you’re watching who I think you should be keeping a very close eye on.”
“Trying to,” Matt replied, “I just need…”
“He probably won’t do it, but will you take one from me?” Justin asked.
“It’s my job,” Matt answered with a smile.
“I order you to watch Michael,” Justin replied. “Hopefully you can catch him doing something.”
“Oh, I’ve caught him doing some things,” Em said kicking his feet up on Brian’s designer coffee table. “And I was almost blinded by the sight of him and that dildo…”
“Enough!” Justin gasped at the mere mention of Michael having sex. “It’s bad enough I have cravings for Malkavian blood, but picturing the whiny one…uh! If he had the chance he’d get rid of me in a second.”
Matt kneeled down to Justin’s level, taking the Toreador’s hand and firmly kissing it. He had so much he wanted to say, but found all his words lacking. When he saw Justin smile at him, he was reassured. He needn’t say a thing: Justin understood. Matt would protect his Sire’s mate from Michael. It seemed rather silly, but Matt knew that Michael was a real threat, even though to what extent wasn’t known…yet.
****
Michael stood in the middle of a deserted Pittsburgh street standing above a manhole. He stared down not wanting to go, but knowing no other way. After opening the cover, he made his way down the dirty metal ladder until he stood on wet concrete below. He looked at his hand written map and followed the direction for what seemed like a mile. He went down a corridor, then past a metal door, down another ladder and down another corridor filled with so much water he felt like he was wading down a stream. When he finally got to his destination he stood in front of a wooden door with the words ‘Keep Out’ on the front.
He felt like a fool, but Michael knocked on the door just the same. After waiting several minutes with no one answering, he opened the decrepit door to see that it was just a stairway to another part of the sewage system. Michael closed the door behind him and went up a half flight of stairs then down a long passageway where he once again stood in front of another door.
“Hello?” Michael said after pounding on the door. “Is there anyone here?”
“What do you want?” A woman’s voice replied.
“It’s Michael. We spoke on the phone the other day.”
“That we did,” the woman said, opening the door. The pleasant voice seemed not to fit the grotesque figure that accompanied it. Her hair was thin and her nose long with warts and other things Michael couldn’t describe. She had but one tooth in her moldy mouth, which she scratched with her long, wrinkled fingers. She smelled of urine and feces, but it seemed not to bother her. She was focused on the issue at hand. “Do you have that item we discussed? You shall get nothing unless you have the item I so desire!”
“I have it.”
“Good,” the woman replied, going to a cauldron and throwing on a few logs of wood to get the fire hotter. “You do know not to tell my Primogen. Daedalus will not be pleased to know one of his followers is practicing the arts without his permission.”
“No problem,” Michael told the woman, bringing out a small cloth bag and emptying its contents. “This is what you ordered: human hair, fingernail clippings and a drop of the woman’s blood from where the other ingredients were taken. Just so you know, I got a small vial of blood just in case. You never know.”
“Perfect,” the woman screeched, taking the ingredients and placing them into her cauldron. “If this works, our relationship may prove beneficial for us both in the future.”
“You know what I need…”
Michael watched as the Nosferatu cut herself, allowing her blood to drip into a beaker. The woman then closed the beaker with a rubber stopper and handed it to Michael, which he took.
“Muto exortus,” the woman chanted as she dipped an old cup into her brew. She drank the hot liquid and then screamed in agony.
Michael took a step back as the Nosferatu changed. Her once ugly features morphed into a woman whose beauty impressed even Michael. It made sense now. He needed her blood and she needed to be beautiful. If all that it took was hair, nail clippings and some blood for her help, he was her man.
“I will need another dose,” the woman said, pulling a tarp from the wall to expose a mirror. She admired her figure with a smile then turned to Michael. “I will see you in a week where you will bring me more…from the same woman.”
“You get me what I need, I’ll get you what you need.”
“Blood from a Setite,” she mused.
“And from Ravnos.”
“Easily accomplished,” she laughed. “Any other blood you care for, Michael, student of Lazarus?”
“I’ll tell you later,” Michael replied, backing out of the room. “But now I only have one thing on my mind.”
The woman turned back to the mirror when Michael left and smiled. She had an idea what Michael needed, but was sure he wanted something more than that. Most men did. Just like her, she guessed this was all for a man and the young Tremere was in great need of the most important ingredient: blood.
****
Brian ran his palm across his glass of blood, dipping his finger in the liquid only slightly. He wanted to drink, but didn’t think his stomach could handle it. His other hand gripped the telephone as he listened to his mother. There was something about talking to his mother that made Brian want to rip out someone’s throat and drink them dry. She had that effect on him.
“You have to come see him,” Joanie continued. “He’s on his death bed and he won’t last much longer. Brian, he’s asking for you.”
“I thought he’d be dead by now,” Brian replied dryly.
“He bribed some Kindred to feed him,” Joanie explained. “Some hedonistic Toreador. I told him it was a way to hell, but he did it anyway. Son-”
“Don’t go there.”
“He’s your father!”
“He isn’t shit,” Brian said softly. His instinct was to yell, but he wanted to keep his cool. His mother had the ability to make him lose it and normally he’d fall into her trap. Only now he had more than his reputation as ‘Liberty Avenue’s biggest stud’ to protect, he was the Prince. He was in control. “Tell Jack it was nice knowing him, but I have a meeting.”
Brian hung up the phone and pushed back the urge to throw it. He licked the blood from his finger, but chose not to drink the lukewarm blood. He looked around not knowing what exactly to do. All he wanted was to wipe away the discussion with his mother.
“Cash,” Brian said, putting on a shirt. “Who the hell’s in the Loft?”
“Want a real headcount?” The Gangrel asked. “Or just those you can fuck?”
“I need a blow job.”
“Since Justin is a no go,” Cash replied coolly, “there’s also Emmett or Ted. I’m sure they’d oblige.”
“I’d rather masturbate,” Brian sighed, slamming his door open and leaving his floor. A ball of nerves, he went up a flight and entered the Conclave room where Willow, Buffy, Spike and Isis continued their research on the Apocalypse.
“The one’s I got were Macha, the Irish goddess of life and death,” Willow said, “Astarte who is the Greek goddess of fertility, Flora, the Roman goddess of Spring and birth. Freys, the Scandinavian moon goddess, Isis, the Egyptian-”
“You can stop there,” Isis interrupted, flicking her pen across the room. “Are you expecting me to believe that the goddess Isis would come here to destroy it? It makes no sense and quite honestly all of your suggestions are reaching. We know nothing.”
“Which is why we’re researching, Ms. Grumpy pants,” Willow countered, slumping back into her seat. “I’m just mentioning all of the gods that have anything to do with life or fertility. You did say that you used ancient Egyptian magic to help Brian do his thing.”
“I’ve never needed anyone to help me do my thing,” Brian said smugly.
“Bloody right, Brian,” Isis agreed, rolling her eyes. “You’re a fucking machine…and a fucking piece of work as well, I gather. No one fucks quite like you.”
“Kill the sarcasm.”
“Just a little frustrated, is all,” Isis sighed. “We’ve found bollocks in our search. All these ancient texts and the lot and we’re better off watching the tele for any information.”
“National Geographic rocks,” Willow said excitedly. “They had a whole show on fertility throughout the ages. They even showed old parchment dedicated to the gods.”
“Yeah,” Buffy agreed. “Who knew they had porn all the way back then?”
“I still say we should go back to Lilith-” Willow began only to be interrupted by Spike.
“Next thing you’ll be telling us is that Gehenna will be upon us and Justin’s going to give birth to Caine. Bloody hell, woman.”
“It’s better than your idea,” Buffy defended. “Only you would think that Aphrodite would come because there’s not enough sex in the world.”
“That’s not such a bad idea,” Brian said softly, though no one seemed to hear him over the escalating argument.
“One thing if for sure, you really need to get some, luv,” Spike spat out. “Or something to clean out your system, you’re a little tart down there. I should know…”
“You’ll never know again!”
“Unless you jump my bones like you did before,” Spike countered. “You couldn’t get enough of me. How could you? I’m so much man.”
“So little man,” Buffy sniped. “And not even a third of the man Angel is. Maybe he did go evil after we made love, but at least the ride was worth it!”
“You kept coming back to me!”
“I thought I was in hell, remember?” Buffy said. “I didn’t think I deserved any better than your rotting corpse.”
Buffy watched Spike opened his mouth, but nothing came out. She knew he was enraged the moment he turned and left the room without a word. She felt bad, but there was no turning back now. She had said those words and she would stand behind them. Buffy looked around at everyone staring at her and felt a little uneasy. She had to get back to the issue at hand.
“Um,” Buffy began, flipping the pages of her book back to the topic Spike had interrupted. “Caine is like the creator of Kindred and this Gehenna thing sounds sorta-”
“Silly,” Isis interrupted. “Gehenna is a myth. It’s sort of like Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny. As for Caine, not only is he the Bringer of Death, not Life, but he’d kill a chunk of Kine and make Kindred his slaves.”
“Lillith is much more viable,” Willow pondered, biting her pencil and moving to a laptop. She tapped away, mumbling words no one could quite understand.
“Then what god then?” Buffy asked, exasperated.
“Well, there’s only one God I give a shit about at the moment,” Brian finally said. “The God of Fucking.”
“Mmnskdmm,” Willow mumbled. She spit out her pencil and flipped through her notes. “There’s Aphrodite, of course, and Venus or maybe you’re looking for Eros or possibly…”
Willow looked up and saw the expression on Brian’s face. Only then did it dawn on her that Brian wasn’t exactly interested in any god of sex as opposed to just having sex.
“Sorry…”
“There’s no help for anyone here,” Brian snickered as he walked out of the room.
“You think I upset him?” Willow asked.
“He’s just horny,” Isis replied, picking up another book and flipping open the pages. “After a while you’ll just get used to it.”
“Wow,” Buffy said, staring at the door Brian just exited. “Justin better watch out, Brian looks like he’s on a mission.”
Willow glanced at Isis and pondered aloud, “Justin’s off limits because of the baby isn’t he?”
“That’s why he’s all Mr. Moody With a Tude,” Buffy mentioned. “Justin’s not supposed to give birth for another month or so. I wonder how he’s going to make it that long?”
Isis glanced in Buffy’s direction and laughed, “He was never planning to.”
“What about Justin?”
“You’ll find that relationships around here are never quite what they seem…”
****
Mel stormed into the small apartment on the first floor she called home. She maneuvered past the cramped living room to her bedroom.
"What the --" Mel wondered aloud after she opened the door and saw Lindsay. "What did you do?"
Lindsay ran her fingers through her now shoulder length hair with a smile. She put out her fingers and wiggled them for her partner to see. It looked like she had had a complete make over.
"Michael gave me a manicure and pedicure," Lindsay replied, clearly happy with the changes. "And my hair is so much easier to handle. I showered, put in a little gel and that was it. You wouldn't believe how fast it dried." Lindsay giggled, then added, "I suppose you do."
"Michael cut your hair?" Mel asked. After thinking about it she added, "why the hell did he give you a manicure and pedicure?”
"He said I deserved it," Lindsay explained. "And he was right. I do."
Mel made her way to Lindsay and removed the hair from her lover's face. She wasn't sure about what was going on, but something wasn't right. Michael was up to something.
"That Tremere blood in him is really taking over, isn't it?"
"Who, Brian?" Lindsay asked,
"No, Michael," Mel corrected. "He's got something up his sleeve."
"You’re in the mood," Lindsay guessed, shaking her head and folding clothes piled on their bed. "Let me guess -- Brian."
"Who else?"
"Mel, you know better than to agitate Brian..."
"Me?" Mel gasped. "What about him? It seems like he fucks everyone over, including Justin and Michael. And no one gives a shit!"
"He means well," Lindsay argued. "You just seem to always push to his buttons. In fact it's almost like a game between you two."
"This is no game! This is about our son! This is about our ability to be parents to our son without having to live by Brian's ludicrous rules."
"You heard Father Beg," Lindsay said softly. She pushed aside the pile of clothes and sat down with a sigh. There wasn’t going to be an easy way to explain to Mel what she had concluded. However, she had no choice. If Brian had money and influence as a mortal, he had power she couldn't even he imagine as an immortal. "He won't let us go."
"Why don't we --"
"We can't leave," Lindsey interrupted slowly and firmly. "We are not leaving. We'll just have to find another way to get the freedom you want."
"I can't believe you are taking his side again!"
"I'm not!"
Mel couldn’t believe what she was hearing and it made her enraged. She couldn’t stay there, not with the woman she loved seemingly deserting her. All she could do was say one last thing before leaving, slamming the door in her wake, "Brian fucks anything with a dick, only now he's fucking us -- and you're letting him!"
****
Brian walked outside and checked his pockets. No cigarettes. A little irritated he left them inside, he took a deep breath and followed the faint smoke that wafted towards him from the nearby alley. He looked up at the bright crescent moon as he approached Spike who flicked his cigarette stub against the loft’s brick wall.
"Nice night," Brian stated.
"Guess so," Spike replied, putting another cigarette in his mouth and offering Brian one. He smiled when he saw that was exactly what Brian needed then added, "it could be raining piss and shite and I'd think it was better out here and in there with that lot."
Brian smiled smoothly, choosing to take a drag from his cigarette rather than respond. He eyed the man up and down, wondering how Spike lived so long. Though the platinum blond tried to hide it, it was clear to Brian that Spike was weak. Sure, the rebellious Ventrue was physically strong and intelligent, but the Englishman was unable to exist on his own. Spike had to live for something or someone else and lacked anything resembling independence. That, to Brian, was weak. Shamefully weak... however useful.
Brian let his cigarette slip from his fingers and pressed out the butt with the ball of his shoe. He watched as Spike offered him another cigarette, but instead of taking it he grabbed the Ventrue's arm instead.
“I don't need to be a brain surgeon to know what you want, mate," Spike said as Brian backed him up against the brick wall. "Just know if we're going to play this game you should know that I’m no soddin bottom."
Brian grinned at the remark and answered by pressing his lips against Spike's. Tongues intertwined as Brian fumbled with Spike's belt, finally opening it and dropping the Ventrue's pants on the concrete ground. Brian's face changed and he went for Spike's neck, only the other man to stop him.
"That may work for the other blokes, mate," Spike told the Prince, unbuckling Brian's pants. "But for the likes of an older vampire, such as meself, I don't care to be Blood Bound on the first date – or fuck -- or whatever the case may be. Wouldn't matter anyway, I'm technically already taken."
Brian's face changed back and he asked, "How are you with pain?"
"I've been a big fan of the nipple twist and the occasional spanking..."
Brian cut the conversation by turning Spike around and slamming the man into the brick wall. By the time Spike thought to complain Brian had already moved his trench coat aside and had entered him.
“Fuck! Bloody hell!”
Brian moved in and out, reminding himself to slow his pace. It must have been a while for Spike. How long, Brian didn't know. All he knew was the game he and Spike were playing…he had played it so many times before. Brian also knew the end, but he enjoyed the game just the same.
“Tell me to stop,” Brian said, his voice husky. He reached around and began to stroke Spike whispering, “Just say the words.”
Brian continued his pace as he waited for Spike's response. He waited for some sort of witty comment or barb about being no bottom, but when Spike just thrust his butt back, Brian continued steadily. It was clear to the Prince that this was not Spike's first time, however long it might have been. He wondered, briefly, who had had the pleasure before. It was as long before Spike groaned Brian’s answer, "Sire..."
****
Michael entered the room happy to sire wasn’t there. Sure he had to deal with Justin, but there was a purpose for everything.
“Oh look who just came back for a visit,” Justin announced, stroking Bartox's stone paw. "Just know Michael, that you can never be alone in this loft again. Is that clear?"
"It is,” Bartox stated.
"Sorry ‘bout that," Michael replied. When he saw Justin didn't believe him, he continued, "I really am! I completely fucked up Brian's walls and floor! Say what you want about me, but I’m not that fucking stupid. I thought he was going to kill me…really!"
"We all have to have our priorities..." Em muttered, propping his feet on the glass table.
"Luckily for you, your stupid spell didn't touch the baby's area," Justin snapped. "If it had, you would see me pissed and I know you don't want to see me pissed. Then Brian would be the least of your worries."
"All this mess for a bigger dick," Em chuckled. "I wonder if it's really worth it?"
Em sat in his spot and pondered the idea. After some clearly obvious consideration, he concluded, "If you ever figure that out, get me a call... not for me, of course, but I do know a guy or two..."
"Next time practice in the Ventrue headquarters," Justin responded. "You think you'd know better by now."
"I should have," Michael pleaded. "That's why I came to say I'm sorry. I completely fucked up."
Justin's eyes got smaller, trying to figure out what Michael’s angle was. Something very suspicious was going on, but Justin didn't know what. However, it was something he intended to find out.
"So what else do you want?" Justin asked bluntly.
"I just wanted to mention that I hardly felt it."
"Felt what?"
Michael hesitated and hung his head, "you're pain."
"You must be joking."
"I'm not," Michael replied. "Look at it this way. How am I supposed to do my job if I can't even feel when you're in pain."
"What job is that?" Em asked. "To make bigger dicks?”
"To watch over the boy wonder,” Michael explained, "and Brian's baby."
"I think you're full of shit, but do you really want to prove yourself?" Justin snickered. "If you really want to show how useful you are, may I suggest getting me a banana split with some of Brian's blood on top... and three cherries."
"No problem," Michael quickly responded, turning around and walking to the door only to stop before leaving. He paused for moment before saying, "you can't hear me."
“Sadly, I can hear you just fine," Justin snickered. "Can you hear me? Banana split. Brian’s blood. Three cherries."
Michael shook his head and pointed to his temple. He called Justin every bad name he could think of and when the Toreador didn't respond he shook his head again.
"That's why I like cell phones," Em responded. "They're much more reliable."
"I also like the fact that blood isn't a requirement," Ted added. "God forbid some of you can hear what I think."
"Like the rest of us aren’t thinking about dick to," Justin chuckled.
"Well only one of us is thinking about Brian's dick," Em retorted. When he glanced over at Michael he couldn't help but add on, "possibly two..."
“That ship has sailed," Michael told the group, though it was clear none believe him. He sighed feeling a bit defeated, "I can't stop how I feel. Justin, you should know that better than anyone. All I'm trying to do is have some focus. Right now I just want to prove to everyone that I'm worthy to be a Tremere... that I'm worthy to be childe of the Prince…to be a grandchilde of the Legendary Ulugh Beg."
"Focus is good," Ted agreed. "It works for me in the world of porn."
"Maybe you should start your own business like Teddy," Em suggested. “You clearly have an interest in dick.”
"You don't think I can prove myself worthy to be Tremere?" Michael gasped offended.
"Only time can tell that," Justin replied, holding out his wrist which Michael took and fed from. Justin grabbed Michael's wrist and bit, but stopped feeding when the Tremere's bitter blood hit his taste buds. "You know, never mind about the banana split. I'm not so hungry anymore."
Michael shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head before he turned and rushed out of the loft. He ignored Teddy talking to him and Em’s comment as he left. He sure as hell didn’t want to stand around and listen to Justin complain about stomach pain. He had other things to do, such as leave the loft, go down the street a few blocks and spit Justin's blood into a container.
Michael reached into his jacket pocket and retrieve two containers: one filled with the Nosferatu woman's blood and the other filled with Nightshade. He knew he had to exchange blood with Justin, but the idea of the Boy Wonder having tabs on everything he did would put a snag in his plans. He wasn’t sure what to do until he got the bright idea of drinking a bitter poison that would linger in his blood. He’d do anything to put his plan into motion.
Michael placed the vials on the floor then looked in the bush next to him. He had to feel around a bit, but he found where he had hidden his spell book. It was time to begin again.
****
Mel swigged the whiskey shot a bartender placed in front of her, then tossed a $20 bill on the counter. She wanted to take another shot or two, but something inside of her told her that she should go home. She swung her purse over her shoulder, headed outside and down the street. She cursed at herself for not driving, but remembered she needed to walk off some steam. She had also planned on getting drunk, so it didn't seem to make a difference at the time. All her reasoning didn’t matter in the cold, so she sighed and watched her breath plume into the dark of the night. She was having a real bad day and it didn’t seem to be getting any better.
Passing through a park, Mel started rehearsing what she was going to say to Lindsay. She definitely had a plan of attack when it came to getting Lindsey back on her side. She was going to make Lindsay see what Brian was doing to--
What the hell is Michael doing?
Mel saw Michael out of the corner of her eye and wondered why he was hiding in the bushes. She initially thought that Michael was with a man when she saw him hold up some sort of bowl with one hand and hold a book in another. Curious, she quietly made her way to a tree where she could watch without being noticed. The first thing she noticed was the containers of blood and Latin words Michael was chanting. Not knowing what to make of it, but knowing something was wrong, she took out a pen and small note pad and began writing down the words Michael chanted.
“Abeo muto causa anima mei natio sponte mei effero regina.”
"What the hell is he saying?" She thought to herself. “Makes me wonder what the hell you are up to Michael.”
****
“Bloody, motherfucker…shite!” Spike screeched as he came on the side of the brick building.
Breathing heavily, Spike put on his jeans and buckled his belt before taking out two cigarettes, lighting them both and handing one to Brian.
"My arse is going to ache for a bit, mate” Spike chuckled, letting his cigarette hang from his lips as he zipped Brian's trousers, adjusting the Prince’s sack. "Guess I should be happy; that was a bloody good shag."
"I hope you're not expecting flowers and candy," Sasha announced, strolling into the alleyway. "Our Prince here is more likely to eat me."
"I like to get my kicks were I can, luv" Spike replied, winking to Brian. "But, as good as you are, mate, my un-beating, dead heart belongs to someone else... no offense."
"None taken."
"Once the Slayer’s Bitch, always the Slayer’s Bitch,” Sasha snickered. "For a Ventrue who likes Brujah, I take you for a guy with better taste."
Brian flicked his diminishing cigarette against the wall causing a flash of sparks. He purposefully exhaled the smoke slowly into Sasha's face before asking, "What do you want? Well, besides watching two guys fuck?” He shook his head and sighed, “Sometimes straight women scare me."
"What do I want? A world dominated by Brujah. Or Ben Affleck to take some acting lessons," she replied snidely. When she saw Brian didn't seem to be amused she added, "The Malkavian's called. They want to sit down with you. Mariel says she's having a bit of trouble."
Spike lit two more cigarettes and handed one to Brian before the Prince walked away with Sasha talking business. Brian hadn’t said much to him, not that Spike had expected anything. As he inhaled the smoke his eyes drifted to his cum splattered on the wall. He couldn't help but flick his cigarette at it and walk away with his jaw clenched, feeling a bit disgusted with himself. He wasn't sure where he was going, he only knew he didn't want to be near the Tremere headquarters. Buffy was there. Brian was there and even worse, a very temperamental Justin was there.
Spike reached into his pocket and took out his last cigarette, tossing the empty pack on the ground. As his eyes followed pack, he noticed the grass growing so he stopped and stared at. He slowly took a look around to make sure time wasn’t moving fast around him and noted that it wasn’t. But, for some reason the grass had grown about 12 inches in the past minute. Not really unnerved by the situation, he took a toke from his cigarette and noticed flowers blooming before his eyes as the trees limbs grew more and more leaves.
"What the --?" Spike began as his train of thought was interrupted by someone bumping into him then rushing past. When he saw who it was he snarled, "Bloody prag.” He wasn't sure what Michael spat out at him, but he knew the fledgling Tremere smelled Brian. How couldn’t he? Spike could see it in Michael's eyes. Spike remember his mother always said misery liked company, so he smiled his normally smug grin and snorted, "Find a shag, mate... your sire did..."
Spike waited for Michael to respond, but when the Tremere walked off he did the same. He hoped for some witty response, but supposed it wasn’t in Michael. It seemed like a waste for Spike. Here he was stuck in the cold with no where to go and no one to argue with. For a night that had so much potential, it had gone to waste quickly.
Bored and out of place, Spike strolled past the rapidly growing greenery until he finally saw it subside. "Of course the magic wouldn't affect here now would it?" Spike pondered aloud as he looked at the steel gate to the cemetery. He walked in feeling more at home that he had in a while. He made sure to walkover every grave he could on his exploration of the cemetery. He even kicked over a broken headstone just for fun.
"Well, well," Spike mused spying an array of half smoke cigarettes on the ground. He picked one up, straightened it out, lit it and inhaled the smoke like an addict.
"You are so predictable," a voice said, startling Spike.
Spike exhaled the smoke into Angel's face, his eye twitchy as he tried to assess who was standing before him.
"Sire?"
"You're about as pathetic as they come," Angel said, shaking his head in disgust. "He beat you and tortured you, yet you still want Angelus."
"Just thinking ‘bout old times, mate," Spike sighed disappointed. "What do you want, you tosser?”
"A sit down with the Prince."
"What makes you think I can oblige, Oh Broody One?”
"Got a call from Buffy..."
"Why not ask her?"
"Why do you always have to make things so difficult?" Angel barked, rushing to Spike and grabbing his childe by the lapels. He was expecting a fight, but when he got none he ordered, "Get me a sit down with..."
Angel's nose twitched before his face went feral and he slammed Spike’s against a stone mausoleum. He ripped Spike’s pants open with a growl. He then inhaled the scent on his childe, running his fingers down Spike's thighs, slipping them inside his childe’s hole. Angel growled as he brought his now soiled fingers to his nose, smelling another man on what rightfully belong to him.
"He'll never let you in," Spike whimpered. "You're Royal-”
"Who!"
"The Prince."
"Take me to him!" Angel growled, taking a bite from Spike's neck.
"Yes, Sire."