Title: Total Eclipse: Angelus Ascendant Series: Part Three

Date Posted:

Author: Buffywatcher

Feedback: Constructive comments always welcome: [email protected]

Pairing: Primarily Angel(us)/Spike

Rating: R Possibly a bit of romantic NC-17’ish circumstances.

Spoilers: None this story takes place in an AU setting and will pretty much ignore the current season of Angel.

Warnings: This story will contain instances of extreme violence, sexuality and character deaths.

Disclaimer: Just borrowing them for a bit of harmless fun. All characters, recognisable likenesses are retained by their owner and accredited license holders.

Writer’s Notes: This story takes place in an AU setting and includes a scene challenge posted by Angela with some minor artistic changes. Connor has been born, Spike has his soul and isn’t chipped as well and Angel and the LA Gang have taken over the running of Wolfram & Hart. However the incident with the first has not taken place and Buffy died and has been resurrected. As always thanks are going out to GF, MarieC, Luba, and Mera my most excellent group of Beta/Editors. Very special thanks to Mera, she got in on the ground floor on this one and chimed in with some big assistance so dedicating this one to her.

Distribution: If I’ve already been given permission to archive my work please consider it yours if you want it. If I haven’t and you would like to archive it please do, all I ask is that you email me and tell me where it’s going so I can visit J.

Summary: The Powers That Be offer to release Angel from his destiny as a Champion but they make a critical error that may well doom their cause forever.

 

*

 

Angelus quietly pulls his convertible around and hops out and opens the trunk. He carefully arranges several thick quilts neatly padding the spacious area. He quietly descends the steps to Giles’ apartment and tenderly levers Spike over his shoulder and carries him up the stairs. He carefully arranges his precious Childe in the trunk and tenderly tucks a quilt around him before quietly shutting the trunk. He musses his clothing and hair with a grimace. The lengths he’ll go through for love, he thinks as he returns down the steps and arranges himself beside Giles’ door and moans loudly.

 

After only a few seconds the sound of an irate sigh precedes Giles arrival by a few seconds.

 

“Spike, what the hell are you…?” Giles steps outside his door and hurriedly kneels beside Angelus. “Great Scott Angel, are you hurt…where’s Spike!?” Giles looks around wildly and spots the stake and the pile of ashes. “Good heavens that’s not…that isn’t Spike?!?!” Giles asks as he helps the reeling Vampire to his feet.

 

“It’s…it was Dru. I saw a couple minions knock Spike out and drag him off…that way.” Angelus says with a groan gesturing north with a weak wave of his hand. “She tried to stop me and I staked her but one of her minions got the drop on me and hit me.” He moans for effect as Giles helps him into the apartment.

 

“You’d better lie down and rest, Angel. I’ll call Buffy and the others. They can start looking for Spike.” Giles helps Angelus flop onto the couch and runs for the phone to make the call. Angelus tries to rise weakly, swaying a moment before falling back down onto the couch with a groan. “Angel what are you doing?! Just lay back and recover. Buffy and the others will start looking for Spike right away.”

 

“I should be looking…I couldn’t stop them before they took him…I should have…I have to try and follow them before they get too far away.…” Another dramatic moan.

 

“Oh I say, I should have thought of that. You stay here and I’ll see if I can track them!” Sweeping up some stakes and a vial of holy water Giles sweeps from the apartment like an avenging…librarian.

 

As soon as he’s gone Angelus hops off the couch with a chuckle and walks to the bookcase. He quickly scans Giles collection of spell books and spying the one he saw on his last visit, he quickly opens it and scans its contents. After several minutes he grins and grabs a piece of paper and a pen and makes some notes, before carefully replacing the book and carefully folding the piece of paper he tucks it into his duster pocket and flops back onto the couch with a laugh.

 

By the time the others arrive he’s properly back in character and joins them on their snipe hunt around Sunnydale. He was careful to arrange it so that Spike’s Human Childer were assigned to him. After all his boy would be very angry if anything ever happened to them while he could prevent it. Forty minutes later his is pulling away from Buffy’s house, having watched the kids enter safely to the chorus of his promises to find Spike and he laughs to think of the treasure in a deep coma so near at hand.

 

He drives to the mansion and flicks the remote for the garage and backs in before closing the door. He opens the trunk and strokes the back of a fingertip down his beloved Childe’s face and smiles. In sleep he could rival any Madonna for the purity of his peaceful beauty. He leaves him there while he hurries inside; he has some preparations to make.

   

He hurries to his bedroom and sheds his clothing, having little use for clothing away from the prudish eyes of humanity. The only concession he does make is to the winter season as he slips into a luxurious velvet robe. He makes a mental note to be sure to arrange for some personal shoppers and tailors to attend to a new wardrobe for Spike. He hangs up his clothes neatly and grabbing the notes he made at Giles’ apartment he hurries downstairs to what was Dru’s workshop. To his pleasant surprise, everything he needs is on hand and silently thanks his dead Childe for at least having done something right for once. He reads his notes and follows the directions meticulously, mixing a potion that hasn’t been used in probably countless centuries, but it will prove invaluable in reclaiming that which is his.

 

After nearly an hour his preparations are complete and he pulls out a silver tray and carefully loads it full of the things he will need, carefully laying the instructions on top. Reviewing everything again and signalling his readiness with a pleased nod of satisfaction he returns upstairs. He sets the tray down carefully and slips into the bathroom. Within moments the sound of water and the first few wisps of steam begin to curl out of the doorway. He strolls out of the bathroom, shedding the robe and laying it carefully on the small bench at the edge of the bed as he picks up a pair of crystal beakers and returns to the bath. He carefully pours the sweetly spicy liquid from one of the beakers into the water, smiling as the heady scent of that reminds him of his own favourite Sandalwood, fills the air. Sticking his hand into the water and adjusting the water temperature for a few minutes he nods satisfied and turns off the tap.

 

Standing with an excited flourish he all but leaps out of the room and down the massive staircase and down a dark side hall and through a doorway. Within moments he reappears carrying the still comatose Spike with tender care. He marvels at the beauty at the last of Childer. Though born last and to his insane daughter, Spike has always been his favourite, though he laments the things he has done to him through the years. He carefully lays his boneless treasure down and lifting a leg he deftly pulls first one boot off then the other. Forcing his hands to be slow and loving, he undresses his pale beauty tenderly until at last he is bared utterly to his gaze. He runs a reverent hands over the perfection that is his treasure, growling as sensitive palms brush over new imperfections that come with living on the Hellmouth. Of all the injustices he has heaped onto his beloved’s head, perhaps the worst is to have let him remain living in Sunnydale; putting his existence on the line time and again for people that don’t truly care for him. He knows that to too many here in this accursed town, his boy is just one more weapon to be used and discarded when not needed. The scars and injuries do not distract from the beauty of the form below his hands, truthfully they only reinforce it.

 

“Come my lad, much to do and little time to do it before I must let you go again.” He lifts Spike into his arms gently; carefully making sure his head is supported, he carries him into the humid comfort of the bathroom. Stepping into the water he eases into the water, adjusting Spike until he’s lying against his chest as he adoringly bathes his charge and himself in the purified water. After soaking for several minutes he stands carrying Spike with him and lays him down on a thick towel he laid out just for that reason. The floor is cold and therefore will not touch his precious. Using a second towel he tenderly dries off Spike, careful to pat the moisture off his skin rather than swiping the towel over his sensitive skin. Once Spike is dry he hurriedly scrubs the moisture from his own skin and picking up the second beaker he dips his fingertips into the thick emulsion. He rubs his hands together to warm the mixture and gently massages it into every inch of Spike’s fair skin as he murmurs softly about how beautiful and precious he is. He knows Spike is beyond hearing him in the comatose state he’s in; hovering like a dragonfly between life and death; but it makes him feel better to say all the things he use to choke back.

 

Once Spike’s skin is gleaming and petal soft, Angelus hurriedly smoothes the remaining mixture over his own skin, having to force himself to be thorough. He sinks to his knees and curls around Spike until he’s sure that the mixture has soaked into their skin completely. He reluctantly uncurls from around his Childe and gently lifts his limp form and carries him tenderly into the bedroom, carefully arranging him on his stomach on the bed towards one side. He clears off the night table and carefully retrieves the tray from the dresser and sets it down before grabbing a high-backed chair and setting it beside the bed. He goes to the fireplace and in moments a cheery fire is warming the room, setting the shadows to a flickering dance on the walls. Using a burning splinter he goes around the room lighting an army of candles until the room fairly glows as brightly as any electric light could produce. While the mansion is fully wired, this night is not the time for the trappings of civilisation. This special night is a return to the primitive of his kind, a revalidation of the ancient ways that have been all but forgotten. On this night he is going to undo a wrong made long ago and cement it with a ceremony that hasn’t been used by his kind in millennia uncounted. He tosses the now smouldering splinter back into the fire and eases into the comfortable chair.

 

He lifts a crystal bottle from the tray and pouring some of the thick clear liquid onto a square of cotton, he thoroughly saturates a large section of skin on Spike’s shoulder. He counts back from one hundred as he lifts a tiny, razor sharp silver dagger shaped vaguely like a pen with a curious, V channel point on the end. He uncorks a small bottle of dark liquid and dips the curious dagger into it. He leans over the pristine flawlessness that is his Childe’s back and drives the point of the dagger deep into his skin. He works slowly and methodically while he chants a mantra to an ancient rite long forgotten by his kind. He works the special ink deep into the design he’s working into his Childe’s shoulder continually chanting through the nearly three hour process before he finishes by chanting a healing spell over his still comatose Childe. The combination of the numbing salve and the healing spell ensures that his Childe has remained totally pain-free during the long process of the ritual marking.

 

Angelus brushes his fingertips lightly over the replica of his own tattoo that now graces his Childe’s once pristine back. A loving smile curves his lips as he traces the stylised A and S that he entwined into the design and chuckles over the addition of a railroad spike clutched in one of the gryphon’s claws. The design’s significance is two-fold and holds much symbolic significance to Vampire kind. It is not only Angelus’ personal coat of arms but it is also the symbol of the ruling line of the order of Aurelius. As The Master once marked him as his heir, so he now has shared that honour; by his own choosing he has permanently tied his future to his Precious Childe. As he will one day ascend to the throne of Aurelius so this mark will be borne by his own heir; a mark of highest renown, respect and love. His fingertips graze over a smaller tattoo, that while being significantly smaller, one that he has taken the same precise care to render beautifully on the pale canvas of Spike’s skin. His fingertips linger for but a moment before returning to the larger tattoo on his back.

 

“I, Angelus, Sired by Darla, favoured Childe of The Master; heir in truth to the order of Aurelius marked so by The Master’s own hand, do hereby claim you as Childe of the Blood.” Angelus purrs.

 

 Angelus strokes the tattoo with his fingertips, tracing its edges as he recites the ancient rite of a Vampire’s Sire.

 

“I will give of my lifeblood to raise you as Childe. I will give of my body to raise you in love. I will give of my wisdom to raise you as a Master. All the favours of my House I do bequeath unto you as my favourite Childe. I will give of my lifeblood to guard you from harm. I will give of my body in willing sacrifice to spare you pain. I will give of my wisdom that we may grow in this joining in all ways, for all of our days. I give of myself not only as Sire but one day as Mate in truth. This is my truth; this is my vow, to you my William, I hold no other above you and will follow no path that takes me from you.”

 

 Angelus feels his fangs drop and he bites into his lower lip until the blood wells up and rubs his lips together painting them a macabre crimson. He leans over and presses a softly bloody kiss to the entwined A and S of the tattoo and he grins and fights back a howl of pleasure as the tattoo glows faintly beneath his lips.

 

He wants to scream in ecstasy at the visual proof that the ancient rite is complete as the glow fades beneath his lips. There is only one rite left to perform and the first steps he’s taken to regain his Precious Childe will be complete.

 

Angelus tenderly turns Spike’s head to the side to reveal the smaller quarter sized tattoo behind his left ear that looks vaguely like a spider’s web. Angelus picks up the silver dagger-like awl and dipping it into the special ink. He quickly but exactingly replicates the design on the inside of his own left wrist, hissing at the pain but at the same time embracing it. He presses the tip of the awl into the centre of the design and clenches his hand as blood wells up from the wound.

 

“By the Dreamcatcher’s will, I do enter this binding. With a lover’s heart I do open the gates between waking and dreaming, conscious and subconscious, and between that which is spoken and that which is only thought. I lay the pathway by this wilful choice I do consecrate in blood.”

 

Angelus hisses in pleasure and pain as he pulls the awl out of his wrist. He carefully inserts the tip of the awl into the centre of the tattooed design behind Spike’s ear and presses just enough to break the skin.

 

“By the Dreamcatcher’s will, I do offer this binding. With a lover’s heart I do offer to open the gates between waking and dreaming, conscious and subconscious, and between that which is spoken and that which is only thought. I offer this wilful choice as I do consecrate in blood this vow, as blood meets blood.” Angelus hisses and pulls the awl free with no sign of his blood or Spike’s marring the perfect silver of the blade.

 

There is a briefly intense flash of pain but it passes in the blink of an eye and Angelus turns his left wrist over and grins. The tattoo has vanished as though it never was. He glances at Spike and grins. There tattoo has vanished from him as well.

 

“Bound in love and blood my precious lad.” Angelus presses a soft kiss to the back of Spike’s neck and cleans up the room and walks around and blows out the candles. Assured that everything is back in its place he flips the covers of the bed down and carefully settles his Precious under the covers before climbing in himself. He settles Spike against him and curls his body around him. Tomorrow he’ll redress his Childe and arrange for him to be “found”. He touches his left wrist and murmurs softly; smiling as the tattoo appears as glowing lines on his wrist and a faint glow almost hidden by the pillow, tells him that Spike’s matching tattoo is also glowing.

 

“Mark and remember Spike. I staked Drusilla trying to save you from her minions. They took you to an old warehouse but you were able to fight your way free and escape but you were hurt. Mark and remember Spike as you dream by my will so it will be by my will what you remember of this.” Angelus says softly then murmurs again softly and the glowing fades and winks out.

 

Tomorrow evening he’ll be sure to “volunteer” his blood to help Spike’s recovery. With Spike taking his blood gradually over several days he will actually strengthen the new Sire/Childe bond he has initiated. Once he recovers the mental suggestion he’s implanted will keep Spike from realising the true events that have transpired in favour of the explanation he has provided. The Dreamwalker spell will let him enter Spike’s sleeping mind and perhaps there, where there is nothing left to hide, they will find the truth they’ve run from for so long.

 

Dru, Buffy; a century apart; it all means nothing to them because they have always been together. No one can replace what they have together, it’s why every romance fizzles, and why they share a damnable attraction to people they can never really have. Perhaps subconsciously saving themselves for their true Mate to reclaim them. In their hearts, unbeating though they may be, they still love with all the passionate fury of human beings. That love is for each other alone and the time has come to set aside the pains of the past and embrace a future.

 

Angelus pulls his love close and gives his conscious mind over to sleep and to dreams of an eternity with his love at his side.

 

The next evening, he rises early and carefully redresses his still comatose young charge. He is careful to make it look like Spike fought for his life and lifting him over his shoulder in a firemen’s carry he descends into the sewers. As soon as it’s safe for his Precious to be on the surface he slips out of the sewer tunnels and finds the perfect spot to artfully arrange his beloved.

 

He retreats to the shadows and watches over his silent Childe, silently cursing the delay that has left him without his Precious. Finally after what seems like forever a familiar voice shouts the words he’s been waiting to hear.

 

“Oh god Spike! Here…He’s over here! I’ve found him!” There is the sound of more shouting and running feet and he darts back into the sewer tunnel; as Xander runs up and falls to his knees beside the prone Vampire.

 

Angelus streaks through the tunnels wanting to be at Giles by the time they bring him in. As he pushes his muscles for every ounce of speed he chants silently in his mind.

 

“Bring him to me Xander…bring my Precious Childe to me.”

 

TBC