~~~

“No, please sir. Don’t! No! Somebody help me!” the girl ran screaming for help. She tripped, yelling out to the people who passed her, but they paid her no mind. “God, somebody help!”

“Too late.” Blood, warm and dark red, flowed down his throat; the body in his hands twitched and fought. A speeding heartbeat slowed and the thrashing ceased.

“Dear William, that was marvelous. Did you hear her singing to me? Just like the stars.” Her laughter was light and happy. She smiled brightly, running fingers through his hair, and pointed out another girl. “Now that one, my sweet. Make her dance with the darkness as well. I want to hear her sing.”

~~~

William awoke with a start. He fought for breath against another savage dream; sweat dampened his brow and he clutched a hand to his heart. He couldn’t understand it, the nightmares had been occurring more frequently each night. It was becoming harder and harder to get any rest at all.

He couldn’t sleep with visions of death and suffering running amuck in his head. He took a deep breath and pushed the covers away from his body. Glancing at the clock, he noted the time -- 4:00 am. At this rate he would never be able to stay awake to work. But he couldn’t just go back to sleep, not with those nightmares waiting for him.

He stood, stretching, and looked down at his bed. There was no use even trying. He made the bed and then went into the bathroom. “Might as well begin the day with a nice shower.”

But as the water cascaded over him he still couldn’t wash away the need to sleep nor the horrors he witnessed when he did.

~~~

“Good morning,” a blonde man in a beige suit greeted as William walked into the office.

“Good Morning, Timothy,” he answered, not quite looking up at the young man. “Is Arthur in?”

“Yes, he's right inside. Any new genius, William?” the blonde asked, crossing his arms over the desk at which he sat.

“No, I don’t believe so,” William answered, standing hugging a hardcover novel to his chest. “May I speak with him?”

Timothy sighed and smiled. “Go right in.”

“Thank you.”

“William, that invitation is still open, you know? I still want you to accompany me to dinner.”

“Yes, thank you, but I’m…I’m busy, you see…and --”

“Just reminding you, no pressure. Go and talk to Arthur.”

“I believe I will. Good day.”

Timothy waved him off and William walked past his desk and into another office. He knocked timidly on the door and waited to hear a voice ask him in.

“Come on in, William, I know it’s you.”

He opened the door to an older man sitting at a desk. The man smiled. “You are the only man I know of who knocks and then actually waits for someone to ask them in.”

“Good morning, Arthur.” Arthur stood, gesturing him in. He closed the door behind him and walked towards the man.

“Have a seat.” He sat in the chair in front of the desk and, smoothing down his tie, Arthur sat as well. “So, what brings you to me today?”

Arthur wasn’t a very large man but he was larger than William’s own lean frame. His dark brown hair and deep voice always helped to calm William. Though he couldn’t understand why. Arthur always reminded him of an older version of a man in his nightmares, a dominating man with an Irish accent.

In any case, he figured he should fear Arthur as much as he did that man. But for some reason he didn’t fear him at all. “I had another nightmare last night.”

Arthur leaned forward in his seat. “Did you now? Anything like the others?” William nodded.

“Wonderful.” William looked aggrieved.

“Oh, don’t give me that, William. You know as well as I these nightmares are blessings. At this rate you will have your novel written in no time at all.”

“Do I really want to write my novel about these torments?” he asked, fiddling with edge of his hardcover. “Maybe all my writing is actually inducing more nightmares.”

“Then continue writing and learn to welcome them.” Arthur steepled his fingers. “Once you realize how much of a gift they are, I’m sure they won’t cause you so much torment.”

William sighed. “But I can’t understand why they are coming to me…”

“William, you are a writer. You don’t need to understand why they are coming. You just need to gather them, put them in order and send them to me.”

“A novel.”

“Yes, my boy, a novel.” Arthur smiled, standing. “Now you go out there and write me a best seller.”

~~~

William understood Arthur, knew he was trying to help, but he felt as though he should stop writing. This novel was starting to throw his entire life off balance and he was feeling more lost than ever before.

He sat at his desk at home, a cup of tea beside him. He turned on his laptop, opened up his novel file and stared at the last two paragraphs he had written.

“She was his dark goddess, his love, his life, his everything. Drusilla was one for games, one who loved the sport of the hunt. They would ride for miles, killing everything in sight just to revel in the screams. Make love in the destruction and then dance beneath the stars, soaked in the blood."

"But her heart didn’t belong to him; his ebony love had another. Dark and handsome, with a harsh accent and an even harsher hand. Angelus, the man who had finished the gift. The man who gave him his power, and trained him to the ways. His Master, his Sire, his bitter enemy.”

William removed his wire-framed glasses and rubbed at his eyes. Twenty minutes had gone by and he still couldn’t come up with anything else. Hanging his head over the back of his chair, he closed his eyes.

~~~

“What’s the matter, sweet William? Can’t hunt on your own? Mother not here to hold your hand?” Angelus ran a hand through the honey brown locks. “Such pretty curls -- shall we cut them off?”

A deep laugh and then there’s a hand on his neck, squeezing. He gasped, clawing at the thick arm. “Why do you fight for breath when you no longer need it?” Angelus sneered.

Blue eyes locked with brown and the hand lifted him up and tossed him against a wall. He could not only feel the pain but also hear his bones cracking, smell his blood seeping through open wounds. Could see the crimson stain on the hard floor as it mixed with the dirt there. A kick to his already aching wounds and he cried out, transforming.

Fangs grew longer, ridges appeared on his forehead and he hid his face in his hands. Another swift kick and he looked up, crying out once more. “You don’t hide from me, boy. You are mine to do with as I wish, and you cannot hide what you are from me. I made you that way.”

Breathing heavily, he looked up at his torturer, tears falling down his face, tracking a pattern in the dirt there. He tried to revert to his old form. Rough fingers on his chin and his face was tilted up.

Angelus sighed. “Dru wouldn’t be pleased to find I’ve broken one of her darling dolls. You are no use to any of us if you can’t move.”

Forcibly pushed against Angelus’ neck, his fangs sank into the soft flesh there. “Drink, my Childe, and get well. Fight me and only feel more pain. You will be rewarded as long as you are good.”

This blood is unlike any other and he doesn’t get many a chance to taste. He tries to fight against his demon but loses and ends up reveling in the powerful sweetness of a Sire’s blood. “Beloved Will, 'tis a shame I did not find you myself. What a mess my Childe has made of you.”

~~~

William started awake again. He was beginning to get extremely used to it. He stretched, sorting out the kinks in his neck and back, and looked at the laptop again.

“Angelus caused him much torment, but offered also much wisdom. Without his Sire he would surely be dead. Drusilla was never quite stable and Angelus had made that instability even worse before he granted her the gift of immortality. And because of this, she was never meant to gift another.

He was Sired by two, the first of his kind. A vampire who kept much of himself, a small part of his soul remaining deep inside. Drusilla had begun the process but was unable to finish it; Angelus was there to complete it. Drusilla killed him and gave him enough of her life force to survive for as long as it took Angelus to get to them. It was truly Angelus who Sired him, and for that he loved the man.

But Angelus was a monster and everything William ever tried to accomplish his Sire would thwart. He hated his Sire, his demon hated him for hating its Sire and he hated himself for needing Angelus so desperately.”

A good two and a half hours later, William was saving one last time and shutting his computer down. He headed into the kitchen to grab a quick something and then fell into his bed, hoping for a restful night and knowing it wouldn’t come.

~~~

“Miss Edith doesn’t get to join in the tea party. She’s been a bad girl.” Drusilla scolded the doll with a finger. “She was naughty, she was.” She swayed in the darkness.

“Brought you a present,” Angelus said, walking through the manor entrance. “Look, Dru, a nummy little boy.” He smirked, tossing the child at Drusilla’s feet. She knelt towards the trembling boy, reaching a hand out to him. “Look at the puppy, William. Isn’t he pretty?” She snapped her teeth at the child, demon coming to the fore.

William cowered in a dark corner, hands over his head. She looked at him then turned her gaze to Angelus. “He’s being naughty like Miss Edith, no tea for him. He doesn’t want to dance with me, Daddy. Says he wants to die.” She smiled. “I told him he was already dead.”

She laughed, standing to sway back and forth, eyes closed. “Hides who he is. The stars sing to me, sing me his song. Dear William’s a bad, bad boy.”

Angelus stormed over to William, grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him up. “Is it true what I’m hearing, Will? Are you a *bad* boy?”

William refused to answer or even look up at Angelus.

“You do know what happens to naughty boys, right William?”

Still no reaction.

“They get punished!” Dru answered gleefully, clapping her hands together.

“That’s right.” An arm was pulled back and William found his body colliding with the nearest wall. “They get punished.”

~~~

William started awake for yet another morning. He held a hand to his chest, trying to stop the erratic beating of his heart. Was he going mad?

Glancing at the clock, he let out another sigh -- 4:00 am once more. It was as though these nightmares wanted to insure his sleep. He yawned and headed towards the bathroom for a shower.

The water cascaded down his body, spray hitting his head and soaking his hair. His eyes closed as he tried to rid himself of the lingering feeling of his collision with the wall. Why did these torments have to feel so real?

~~~

William sat at his laptop after having a bit of coffee and stared at the words, attempting to get back into the flow of things.

“Angelus made him who he was. Created the Master Vampire he became, and though he refused to acknowledge it out loud he could not escape it inside his head."

"He was Angelus’ to own, to abuse, to kill if he willed it. Sire is a strong term. And the bond between Sire and Childe is something hard not only to explain but to understand. It is stronger then that of a mother and child, stronger then anything between lovers. So strong, in fact, that it can never be severed."

"One could choose to ignore it, pretend not to feel it’s existence, but can never rid themselves of it. If a Sire or Childe were to die, all connected to them by the bond would know. And even if they wished not, would be filled with sorrow and weep at the loss.”

There was a knock at the door of his apartment and William quickly saved before rising to answer. He opened the door to find Timothy standing outside.

“Good morning, Timothy.” He said, unknowingly blocking the entrance to his flat.

“Good morning to you too,” Timothy replied. “And how many times have I told you to call me Tim? May I come in?”

William looked around, then nodded. “Yes, I’m sorry. Come in, have a seat. May I get you something?”

“Nothing for me, thanks.” Timothy sat on the couch and watched William close the door and stay standing by it. He patted the empty seat beside him. William walked slowly towards the couch and timidly sat, as though it were going to attack him if he made any sudden movements. It wasn’t that he was afraid of Timothy. He was just a tad intimidated by Timothy’s brashness.

The blonde patted William’s leg and got more comfortable in his seat.

“What…brings you here?” William asked, moving his legs away from the man and laying his own hands to rest upon them.

“Well, I figured you could use a break. All you’ve been doing lately is working and you won’t accept my dinner invitations so I decided to take you out to breakfast.”

“I couldn’t. I have --”

“Much too much work to do? Well, I’m sorry, Will, that won’t work today. Get yourself ready and we can be off. And don’t you dare lug that laptop.”

William sighed, defeated, and prepared to leave.

~~~

Sitting across from Timothy in the small booth, William tried to keep his knees from brushing Timothy’s own. The man had just finished ordering for them both. A meal William believed far to large a dish for himself to consume.

He looked down into his cup of tea, watching the ripples play at the sides.

“I can’t imagine how you can get a book out at all, Will. You are always so quiet. Do you even have that many words?” Timothy laughed, fingers brushing William’s own. He raised William’s chin to look him in the eyes. “How’s the ol’ novel going, anyhow?”

“Rather well, actually,” William answered, uncomfortable with the fingers that stayed to rest on his neck. He cleared his throat. “Excuse me...”

“That’s good to hear.” Timothy removed the offending hand and placed it on the table. “Are you very far along?”

“I believe so.” William’s hands retreated below the table to rest on the hardcover book in his lap.

“You don’t know?”

“I don’t read over my work until I’m finished.” His hands stroked the spine nervously.

“Well I guess that’s as well.” Timothy sat back in his chair, arms crossed on his chest.

The food came and went far too slowly for William and there were many awkward silences. He had no clue what to say or how to break them.

When the meal was finally over he bid his farewells and took his leave as fast as his legs could carry him, heart pounding in his chest. He felt bad for leaving while Timothy was getting ready to pay the bill, but he didn’t want the man to offer to walk him home.

He felt as though he were rebelling against that man in his dreams, the rough Angelus, and his heart pumped faster. Needing a rest, he caught sight of a coffee shop and escaped inside.

He ordered and sat at a table near a window with abundant light to read his hardcover. He could feel eyes on him the entire time but couldn’t find the nerve to search the room to discover to whom they belonged.

~~~

Back at home, he managed to just make it to his bed. Exhausted beyond his normal level. He hadn't had time for any of the naps he normally took during the day. Too wrapped up in trying to read his book and ignore the prying eyes.

The moment his head fell on the pillow, he was asleep.

~~~

“My dear Will,” Angelus said, tilting his head up to stare into his eyes. “You are of my blood, your life -- I gave to you.” His fingers danced a line down his jaw and over his neck.

“Your strength was my gift, your adoration my pleasure.” The hand moved to his shirt, ripping the front, and he was frightened of feeling that fierce pain Angelus was known for. “Your fear my motivation, your very existence my desire.”

However, he didn’t feel any pain. The hand traced a pattern down his chest, rubbing roughly over his skin and making him gasp with pleasure. “Do not for a moment believe I couldn’t kill you if I so choose. You may be Dru’s pet, but you belong to me.”

Soft lips met his own in a brutal kiss, to which he found himself responding. Angelus’ hand slid lower, ridding him of more clothes and feeling more of his skin. The demon inside him sung with a bright sort of happiness. Proud that its Sire wanted it and full of desire for more.

William couldn’t help panting and felt Angelus’ laugh vibrate through his fingertips as he ran his hand over his Sire’s chest. “Why do you pant for breath, boy, when it does not answer your call?”

Lips meet once more and this time the kiss is fiercer. Ridges appear and fangs elongate, ripping skin and smearing blood. Hands grasp harshly onto shoulders and hips as Angelus rocks against his Childe and William tries to match him thrust for thrust.

An animalistic battle for power and release. William makes noises he’s never before heard himself make, and Angelus growls and grunts against him. His head is positioned and Angelus pushes William’s fangs into his flesh. Then Angelus’ fangs pierce William’s flesh and they both drink as they continue to move against one another.

Blood aiding their actions as the skin beneath their fangs rips with the harshness of their continual movement.

William’s fangs slip out and his head rears as he cries his release against his master. Angelus’ removes his own fangs, looking down at the sight of his Childe and, with a few more thrusts, follows as well.

Satiated, he kisses William’s forehead and turns them over so William is atop him. “That is why you belong to me. Now lick me clean, Childe. Make me happier than I am at the moment. I promise you will be rewarded.”

~~~

William rolled awake. Lying on his back, it took him a while to decipher his surroundings. He sat up, noting the wet spot not only on his pants but his bed as well, and sighed. At least he didn’t start awake this morning, like *most* mornings. He looked over at the clock at his bedside and smiled. 10:00 am. That was the longest he had slept in quite a while.

~Back~