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Legend of the Betrayal Chapter One... 'What the...?' Rating: NC-17 or Adults Only Timeline: No real timeline or spoilers. Wesley,Gunn and Cordelia working with Angel. No Fred or Connor. Spike has his chip. AU as in Spike has lived with Angel in the Hyperion for six months, handed over to his Sire by the Scoobies three years after his dealings with ADAM. Warning: This is definately AU and contains some harsh themes. Includes.. rape, violence, abuse and character deaths galore...lol! Beta: Thanks to Nikki Dutton for putting up with the initial setbacks and whapping out a fantastic beta. Summary: There's something terribly wrong with Wesley and unfortunately, Spike is the one to find out just how wrong things are. "Mmmmmm. So pretty... pale and the hair... so fitting." "Sod off, you dimwitted wannabe Watcher" Slowly circling the small room, the men eyed one another as they both tried to size up the situation without giving the other an advantage. The taller of them held his head cocked to one side, his tongue just wetting his bottom lip slightly. A pair of wire rimmed glasses taken off and thrown to one side of the cluttered room, Wesley smiled widely at the startlement that flew across the vampires face before being replaced by a look of sheer annoyance. "Really wanted Angel. Bet he is still virgin tight. Can't have him though can I? No... not with the rather nasty side effects of losing his soul. Bit of a shame about that wouldn't you say?" queried Wesley, running his gaze up and down the tightly coiled body of the smaller vampire. "What the Hell are you on? Look Mate, I'll give you two seconds to run... after that, I'm gonna rip you a new breathing hole." snarled Spike, unconsciously making the circle smaller as he took a closer step towards the other man. "Trust me, chip or no bloody chip.. I'll do it." Spike bit back a yelp as he felt his much cursed chip give him a reminder of what would most certainly happen to him if he should ever try to follow up on the threat. Continuing to warily circle a grinning Wesley, Spike wondered just what was up with the ex-Watcher because this was not the type of behavior that one normally expected from little old Weakly. Sure, the man had been a bit off color for the past few weeks but the broken glasses lying on the library floor were a dead give away that something had to be really wrong. "Guess that you'll have to do. You don't mind Angel's name being thrown around in the heat of passion do you? No, I don't suppose you would. I'm thinking you would be used to it, you know, Drusilla and all" Wesley stopped in front of the toppled bookcase that effectively blocked the only exit to the small and overcrowded library. He sighed as his ears burned at the volley of threats and profanity that came from the bleached blondes direction after his last statement. Rolling his shoulder, Wesley attempted to ignore what Spike was describing about hydrochloric acid and instead winced as he was reminded of just how hard it had been to push the solid oak bookcase over. With another wince, he wondered if a visit to the physio would be an option for early the next morning. "William! I should wash your mouth out, just what would your mother say at such language?" snickered Wesley after a particularly vicious promise from the enraged vampire. Coming to a dead halt, Spike stared at the giggling demon expert even as he felt himself switch to game-face at the mention of both his mother and human name. With a snarl, he stomped over to the bookcase, intent on hauling it out of the way so he could leave the moron to his own devices. Unfortunately, he hadn't counted on a still laughing Wesley to continually block all his efforts of reaching the broken bookcase, Wesley just pushing him out of the way each time Spike got closer than a yard to the bookcase. What the fuck was with this dickhead today? All Spike had wanted to do was get one of his Sires demon books, one with a few big titted varieties and go for a wank. Not arse about with this fucknuckle. Spike had been in the process of selection a heavy book, full of graphic colour pictures, when he had smelt the Weasel come into the room. Not at all worried and too busy drooling over a six breasted, four armed hemaphradite, he hadn't at first taken any notice of Wesley's laughter. However, Spike had started to become uncomfortable when a sound had caused the hairs on the back of his neck to stand to attention. He had ignored the other man, only to drop the book in a jerk reaction when the bookcase had suddenly crashed to the ground, effectively locking both himself and Wesley in the room. Still trying to size up just what was wrong with the usually nervous Wesley, Spike took an uncharacteristic step back. Arms folded tightly across his chest, he snapped a reply to Wesleys last taunt. "Has working with that mouthy bint downstairs made you completely mental? Get outta my way so I can move this thing. Go on.. sod off." "So. How long has it been since you had a penis up you?" Spike felt his jaw drop at the question. Unable to help himself, he took another step backwards as his unease grew. Ooookaaay, now things were really getting strange. The vampire wondered if he had somehow stepped into another dimension or was starring in the new and improved version of The Twilight Zone. With a cough and an unbelieving splutter, Spike continued to stare at Wesley as the other man picked up a book, caressing the cover gently before starting to rip pages out of it one by one. "You're barmy. That's what you are Mate, sodding well barmy!" The book held in both hands, Wesley felt another giggle well up from deep within him. God, it felt so good to laugh. Something he hadn't done for more years than he cared to remember. Even before he had left his beloved England, Wesley had smiled softly, inclined his head politely, nodded in gentle approval or, on rare occasions, tittered quietly. He had done the bare minimum of whatever had been demanded but laugh? No, he hadn't done that since he had been in his teens. Now, however, he couldn't help himself. Wesley let his howling laughter roll around the small confines of the library, the sound washing over a yellow eyed bleached blond. On and on he laughed, occasionally wiping away the tears of mirth that threatened to fall even as he continued to rip into the book in his hands. With a shiver, Spike checked again for any other exit besides the one being blocked by Wesley, a pile of valuable books and the bookshelf. Shaking his head, he watched the usually demure and uptight man rip into what both knew, was an almost priceless book. Only it wasn't a page at a time now, it was handfuls of whatever could be yanked out each time. Discreetly scenting the air, Spike frowned when he couldn't smell the usual fear and uncertainty that Wesley always exuded around him. As Wesley dropped the destroyed book after a futile attempt to rip the bound covers apart, Spike's frown got deeper when Wesley bent down to pick another one up. "Wes? Wesley, you right Mate?" Couldn't hurt to ask he thought. His Sire would kill them both if anymore book shredding went on and to tell the truth, the guttural laughing was starting to make him growl. An action that would only advertise to Wesley just how uneasy Spike actually was. Taking a few steps forward as Wesley started to choke and cough, Spike reached out a slender hand to steady him when Wesley stumbled over the books strewn across the floor. "Fiiiiine. No really, I... I haven't felt so happy for, oh, years now." Spike snarled, jumping back from the deep voice. That was not the Weasels voice. It was too deep, way too husky even if the affects of a minutes coughing was taken into account. All his demon senses telling him that something was truly wrong with the situation, Spike found that he was now standing at the furthest point away from Wesley. Arms folded once again across his chest, he watched as Wesley stood to full height, authority and 'Alpha Male' screaming from every pore, the grey eyes holding no fear of being in the same room as a growling, game faced vampire. With another sniff, Spike was shocked to smell not only arousal but an underlying scent of menace. A scent that he would never have one day thought would apply to such an ineffective man as Wesley. "You didn't answer my question before. How long has it been?" "Get stuffed, what the fuck is wrong with you?" "Oh, nothing really. In reality, I'm actually all better." Fuck! Spike suppressed a shudder as he heard Wesley's new, much deeper voice reply. The accent was still the same but the way Wesley was speaking was wrong. Totally wrong because even the inflections didn't match the way Wesley usually spoke. Spike knew the exact way Wesley spoke, simply because he had played numerous pranks on the Angel Investigations team by mimicking Wesley's voice. Phoning in false incidents, giving Cordelia 'Wesley' tainted stalker and 'I know what you are wearing' phone calls. However, Angel had decided that Spike had crossed the line when 'Wesley' had started to phone the police every day to tell them that their latest suspect was called Gunn and worked at Angel Investigations. It had been a great game too, Spike had never called the same station house twice, something that had resulted in Gunn being picked up about three times a week. A game that had only ended when Cordelia had caught him at it and Angel had broken his jaw so he couldn't speak for a few weeks. But who the Hell cared now? Spike felt himself go rigid as he was struck with the realisation that the man before him probably wasn't Wesley. Covering his unease with a snarl, Spike groaned in annoyance as Wesley dropped the latest book and started towards him. Still laughing, although not as loudly as before. With another glance at his surroundings, Spike realised he was well and truly trapped in the library unless he could somehow go through the walls. His hope at such a thought died instantly at his remembrance of helping Angel, only at the promise of a weeks worth of human blood, reinforce the rooms walls with double brick to provide a safe haven to the collection of priceless books. As strong as he was, it was still going to take time to claw his way out. Time in which 'who-ever-it-is' Wesley could easily stake him. So, clearly he was stuck. Great, stuck in a room with a nutter. Why was it always him? The vampire found that he was horribly fascinated as whoever was wearing Wesley's body came to stand directly in front of him, the laughter disappearing into silence. He knew he should move but he couldn't deny that his curiosity had been aroused by the strange turn of events. However, the fact remained that he was stuck in a room full of broken wood with a definite headcase and with Angel nowhere to be seen. Spike stood quietly, maintaining eye contact with the smirking man in an effort to display and secure his dominance. He had never seen Wesley smirk before, just another small thing that was increasing his unease. "Wot?" demanded Spike as Wesley leaned in close to him, almost as if he was about to whisper a secret into the vampire's pale ear. Determined not to jerk away as it was his instinct to, Spike, instead, turned his head to look closely at the other mans face. In a movement that surprised Spike to his very core, Wesley swept his tongue along one of the vampires defined cheekbones, his hand reaching up to curl tightly around Spikes neck to prevent Spike from turning away. "FUCK! Get offa me.. you barmy prick!" roared Spike, struggling to get Wesley to release him without setting off the chip all the while trying to contend with the fingers that had been shoved into his mouth. "Mmmmph... g.arrgh.. away!" Suddenly, Wesley let go of his neck and backed away towards the toppled bookshelf, the scent of arousal noticeably stronger as was the intent to dominate. Spike spat on the floor, determined to remove the Morning Fresh taste from his mouth. Clearly, Wesley had been downstairs in the Hyperion's kitchen, doing the dishes before he had decided to come up to the library and molest him. One of his best insults died on the tip of his tongue when he glared over at the ex-Watcher and saw that Wesley was sucking on the fingers that had been in Spike's mouth. While Wesley had one hand at his mouth, Spike was honestly shocked to see Wesley rubbing himself through the front of his beige slacks with the other. Wesley's saliva finally rubbed from his right cheekbone, Spike didn't suppress his shudder this time as he realised just how truly defenceless he would be against Wesley if the other man decided to take things further. Spike couldn't physically fight Wesley and the vampire knew that with only a few words, Wesley could knock him unconscious with a simple spell. If that happened, Spike knew that it was a good bet that he would wake up with a sore arse, worse still, wake up with Wesley still buggering him. Unable to hold back the look of pure distaste settling on his face as his features melted back to human form, Spike figured that he had only one option. Wait it out and with that thought, he asked Wesley why he had done it. "What the fuck did you do that for? You're a closet queen aren't you... what's the matter, everyone else tell you to piss off and you decided that I'd take you up on the offer?" "You know, I didn't think vampires had a taste or if they did, it would be so subtle that you just wouldn't be able to put a name to it but... I'm happy for you to know that you taste lovely." commented Wesley, ignoring Spikes question as he continued to rub at his hard on. "I'd love the chance to find out if everything about you is so... pleasing... to the senses." "Suck me and find out" "Oh really, what a wonderful offer but I honestly couldn't until you turned me first but thank you all the same" With that, Wesley turned his back on the spluttering blond, letting his words sink in fully even as he left off rubbing at himself. Kicking at the cluttered books on the floor, he bent down and picked up another of Angel's beloved collection. The cover opened, Wesley found that it was one that he had frequently become bored with. He sighed at the strangled curses that were directed his way and started to rip into the brittle pages. "Trust me, I ain't that desperate for a blowjob. Go suck Batboy. I'm sure he'll thank you for it later. Give you nice little pat on the head he will." sneered Spike, leaning nonchalantly against the far wall. His hand pausing in mid tear, Wesley didn't bother to turn and face the blue eyed vampire. A smile on his face, Wesley answered the taunt. "Yes, I'm sure he would after all, that's what you received as thanks for all the hard work of making sure your Sire enjoyed himself." His anger swallowed at hearing the truth so pleasantly stated, Spike instead asked why Wesley wanted to be turned, his curiosity getting the better of him. When no answer came from Wesley, Spike snarled under his breath and crossed the floor to edge closer to the other man. Spike ignored the sharp chills that ran down his spine as he asked the question again. Whirling on the smaller man, the book thrown across the room, Wesley wound his fists tightly into the vampires black t-shirt. The smile still plastered on his face, Wesley lifted so that the other man was standing almost on his toes. He ignored Spike's snarled threats and batting hands to walk arkwardly forward so that the blonds back was brought into contact with the wall opposite the blocked off doorway. In a move that echoed one so recently made, Wesley licked a trail across the cool skin, across a cheekbone and down the pale neck only to work his way up to Spike's ear where he bit down hard on the small earlobe eliciting a roar of pain from the agitated vampire. Adjusting his grip on the thin cotton t-shirt, the lanky ex-librarian thumped Spike into the wall with every word he spoke next. "Because. I. Want. To. Be. Your. Childe." "I fucking hate you. You, the sodding Bat Angel, the whore downstairs and the chrome dome whose so bloody 'street kid', he wears designer fucking labels. I *hate* you all!" snapped back Spike, trying to peel Wesley's hands from his t-shirt. "Yes. Yes I know you hate Wesley but you don't know *me*. I'm fairly confident that you will like me. And do mind your language, I'm not happy about it at all." Once again, Wesley let the words sink in, all the time his smile never let up. He watched as the vampires eyes yellowed over a little, Spike's face ridges just starting to rise. Wesley was going to have to discipline the blond before the whole gameface showed. His head drawn back, Wesley slammed his forehead into the smaller mans face, dropping the howling vampire to the floor. "Jesus... Jesusfuckingbloodychrist! You *broke* my nose!" "Just a reminder, remember, I don't like profanity. Hush now, do stop your whining, it will be all fixed in a few day's time anyway." "You cu.. Angel's cock is gonna drop off when he sees this fuc...f'n mess." Rolling on the floor in both shock and pain, Spike wondered just what the Hell was going on. First, it looked like Wesley had had some sort of breakdown but now it looked like it wasn't even Wesley after all. Who it was, Spike was just about ready to risk a headache to find out and as for the turning, there was no bloody way. Not until Spike had heard the full story. The initial sharp agony of his nose dying down to a dull pain, Spike gingerly took his hands away from his face, scowling at the liberal coating of blood anointing them. Hauling himself up into a sitting position, he leaned heavily against the wall and with a 'what-the-fuck' shrug, Spike mimicked Wesley's earlier actions and stuck his fingers in his mouth, sucking the blood from his skin. Wesley's next words, however, had him halt mid-lick to his wrist, chills going down his spine once again. "Angel. Yes well, that little problem has been taken care of. Seems that he is on his way to Sunnydale. Something about Acathla rising again and his blood being needed. So good of Giles to call me with the message. No, no need to call back.. just get Angel down to Sunnydale as fast as possible." "Bull-fucking-twang, where the Hell is he?" "You know your Sire. All brooding and not much up on top. He'll just take me at my word, jump in the car and drive until he reaches Sunnydale. Won't even think of using his cell phone and if he does, he'll remember that he forgot to charge it up yesterday so naturally, it's dead. As for using a public phone? Really, what if he got his magnificent hair all mussed up with chewing gum or something?" Unable to help himself, Spike snickered at the thought of Angel trying to get a wad of grey sticky gum out of his hair with methylated spirits and cotton balls. As fast as it occurred, the amusement died, settling into something that bordered just on the edge of fear. "Anyway, even if he does keep driving, he'll never make it. These classic cars, they're just so temperamental. Poor Angel fancy going up in a ball of flames before getting his 'Shanshu'?" "Get stuffed, he's not dusted. Would've felt it." "Of course he's still in the land of the living, he only left not even an hour ago. It takes just over three hours to get to Sunnydale you know, although you would never know it by the way you drive." Wesley said, the dryness of his tone clashing with the smile that had taken permanent residence on his face. Silence drifted upon the small confines of the library as Wesley sat himself on the floor. Cross legged, he was amused as he watched a variety of expressions fly over the vampire's bloody visage. Shock, disbelief, horror, worry and finally the 'I hate you' that was usually worn by the smaller man. He couldn't ever remember Spike being so quiet, something that Wesley didn't really mind for the time being. A few minutes passed before the silence was broken by Spike. "You being turned.. how do I do it with the chip in me head?" The question was asked softly, Spike hoping that it would distract the obviously mentally disturbed man by going along with his plans. Spike had no intention of turning the wanker but he wanted to hear the plan anyway. If it came down to the crunch of things, he could always drain Wesley on the promise of turning the other man. "Oh, that. I honestly didn't think that you would take it seriously." "What? Wes, Mate... what's goin' on?" "Mate? You actually want to mate with me right here? Oooohhh, never actually had the opportunity to shag in a library before. Wes did though" Wesley admitted, his smirk growing bigger as he took in Spike's startlement over his deliberate choice in words. Eyes rolled, Spike fought down some of his best insults in an attempt to ignore such an obvious baiting. Obviously there was no plan about getting the chip out then. A little surprised at how disappointed he was at that notion, Spike asked Wesley how he could see without his glasses even as the vampire continued to warily watch the unhinged man opposite him. "My glasses? Quite simply, they're not mine. They belong to Wesley and for the record, I can see perfectly well without them." Snorting to himself, Spike found himself asking the obvious questions in the most patronising of voices. "Ok, if you ain't Wes, then who are you?" Wesley's smirk fell away, only to be replaced with a look of the utmost seriousness, a change that wasn't lost of Spike, the vampire stiffening slightly. "I like you. Straight to the point, no beating around the bush. Besides, I've heard it hurts... you like that one?" laughed Wesley. "Yeah. Ha bloody ha." growled Spike, not even remotely impressed with the attempt at humor but annoyed that Wesley's laughter was starting to get to him already. Idly, he wondered if Wesley was going to 'remind' him not to swear again any time soon. "Bryce. Vile name but most certainly better than Weakley, the ever lasting pansy don't you think?" What the...? Nodding his head slowly so as not to piss off the arsehole in front of him, Spike thought that if he had had to choose between the both of them, he would rather have fucked a fungus demon suffering from leprosy than admit Wesley was the nicer name. "So. Bryce, want to get out of here?" "No" was the immediate reply. With a silent swear, Spike wondered if his head would actually explode if he hit Wesley hard enough for the other man to pass out. He had to get to a phone. Get onto the other ex-Watcher back down in Sunnyhell and tell him to start driving towards Angel. Hopefully, the broody bastard wouldn't be a pile of dust admist flames before the phlegm ball that was Biles reached him. As much as he hated Angel, Spike acknowledged that he had a good thing going. After being taken back to L.A. and the Hyperion by Angel when Her Royal Slagginess and her band of scabs had voted to either finally stake him or send him to L.A., Spike had been put to work with helping The Repressed One with beating the shit out of any demons that had featured in Cordelia's visions. Spike had stayed put for a few days before skipping out to look up a few contacts only to find out that his reputation for helping the Slayer and Co. had preceeded him. And the once awe inspiring fact that he was Angel's Childe had only served to make him the butt of many a demon's joke. It hadn't taken Angel long to find him, the older vampire had just followed the remains of continual bar room brawls. Upon being found bailed up against a wall and vastly out muscled and outnumbered by a group of Amruths, Spike had hastily agreed to Angels offer of all the blood he needed, a floor of the Hyperion to himself and the replacement of clothes whenever he needed them. Later, Spike had been somewhat proud of himself that he had also been able to wheedle a continual supply of beer and cigarettes out of the normally tightfisted older vampire. It was a sweet deal that he didn't want to end just yet and for it to continue, Spike had to get out of the room. Hell, he'd even volunteer to teach the office bint how to make a decent coffee if it ensured that he got out in time to keep the deal going and himself comfortable. With Cordelia in mind, Spike realised that he hadn't had his usual daily 'insult, snarl and dodge the thrown object' run in with the younger woman and if he thought about, he hadn't had the displeasure to see the other one anytime either. His curiosity rising yet again, he queried their whereabouts. "The whore and the dipshit, where are they?" "Oh them. Well according to Wesley, Cordelia had auditions all day while Charles is ill with the flu." answered Wesley/Bryce, happy that Spike was talking to him without his usual impressive display of profanity. Not believing one single word, Spike nevertheless nodded his head at the words before continuing. "Riiight, and the reality is?" "Yes, yes of course. Sorry. Cordelia has kindly donated her essential organs to a starving Thraxor demon, and Charles is more than likely dead." Looking at his watch, Wesley gave a suprisingly short bark of laughter. "No, just wait a moment. He *is* dead!" With another glance at his watch just to double check that he was right, Wesley was happily reassured that the herbal mixture he had given Gunn for his cold had indeed done its job. Great stuff, nightshade. Pleasant to taste and easily disguised with virtually any flavoring. Actually, from what he had heard, it tasted just like a spoonful of sugar. His mirth bubbling to the surface, he couldn't help but think of the Mary Poppins song, something about a spoonful of sugar helping the medicine go down. Spike was silent as he digested what Wesley had told him and to be honest for once, he was envious. Damn, if only he had thought of such subtle ways instead of trying to rip out throats and only getting a sodding headache as a thanks for his efforts. Nevertheless, he was puzzled by the man sitting in front of him and found that he wanted to know more. Hopefully, with the right information or questions asked, he would be out of the room in time to phone Sunnydale. "Wes... sorry. Bryce..ahhh. How did *you* come into existence?" "Who? Little old me? Well, that's such a fantastic story. Would you really like to hear it?" Looking at the surprisingly eager face of the other man, Spike plastered half smile, half sneer across his face, nodding his head again. "Yeah, go on Mate. Tell me." Stories |
