A/N: Angel sired Spike…in my little fantasy world. And this is what it looked like when it happened. And yes, there are so many Angelus/William stories out there just like this, but I had to have a go at it. Read and review.
The Railway
"Are you afraid?"
The breathy whisper of the darkness tickled the young poet's ear. He tried not to move, not to whimper, not to flinch as the heavy weight settled onto his back, a dead hand holding his face down to the damp cobblestone of the London alley.
I am afraid! William wanted to scream. Very afraid.
And he wanted to buck up and throw the shadow off of him, shouting through the still streets until he made it home to Mother. He was afraid. Very afraid.
"You're tremblin', m'boy," Death said kindly. "No worries, now." The weight lifted and two strong hands smartly flipped him onto his back, forcing William to look his killer in the eye.
"P-please, sir…"
Death wore a handsome face and a tender smile. It had cold, clever hands that tore at the boy's shirt and scratched his soft skin; and a wicked tongue that flicked over his eyelids like faery dust. Will shook violently, finding himself rendered immobile and wondering what Mother would say if she ever knew - knew that her sweet virgin son had his legs splayed wide open for the devil.
"You can be my Prince." The chilling lips pressed down on Will's mouth and the night soon found him tongue-entangled, aroused like a flower in the spring sun. "If you will only let me in." Teeth scraped gently across his neck as a cunning hand undid the fastenings on his trousers and set to work.
Will was the hare caught between the strong jaws of a hunting hound – torn open, yet awake and feeling the pain, longing to let darkness close in.
"It's a cold winter night, isn't it?" Tall, elegant, and dark as sin was his sire. Will would always remember how it snowed when he first felt Angelus's fangs rip into his throat, and how relieved and spent and limp his body hung afterwards.
Three months later…
A satisfying crack was heard as his head collided with the brick wall that separated the pub from the dingy alleyway. A large, blubbery beast of a man swung the broken chair leg with conviction, dead set on teaching the ornery, drunken youth that fondling his wench's breasts could only end one way.
Will shook his head, and quickly dodged the proceeding blow. It was raining that night; hard, huge droplets pounded down onto his head, drenching his long hair.
"Please, sir," he droned. "I'm just a poor boy and my Papa never taught me any manners." He leapt to his feet with a grin, running a hand through his wet hair. "There's blood on my head, sir. Blood on my head."
"There'll be a hella lot more blood when 'm done with yeh, boy," the man growled.
"It's not nice to hit people, sir," Will chided, taking a smart step back before the next befuddled swing connected with his side. "Especially when they're younger and smaller than you yourself are." He eluded the makeshift bat once more, feinting to the left, against the wall.
"What's this then?" the man sounded even more annoyed. "Yeh go aroun' sayin' that yer Da never taught yeh any manners and then yeh rattle off etiquette while 'm tryin' to beat yeh? Let's see how well yeh can talk when yeh've lost all yer teeth."
Another swipe of the wood, but Will didn't bother trying to avoid it this time. It never reached him.
"My Papa never taught me any manners, sir," the young vampire repeated with a cheeky grin. "Let's see what he can do about you." William watched with glee as his sire gracefully removed the wooden weapon from the butterball's hand and shoved it in his mouth, creating a sufficient gag. His grin grew as Angelus tugged back on the ends of the stick, tearing at the corners of the brute's mouth and grinding against the rotting teeth.
"Would you like a bite, my darling boy?" Angelus asked. William felt his skin crawl at the tone – the soft, menacing disapproval tipping his sire's tongue surely meant he would catch it when they got home.
As it were, he stood straighter and stuck his chin out. "Bite that? He's greasy and slimy and disgusting, Angelu-" he stopped short at his elder's growl. "Sire. Bet his blood's fattening." He dropped his eyes at the hard look.
"I suppose you're right, William. He is rather outlandishly ugly, isn't he?" Angelus sighed, slicing the man's cheek with a sharp nail and sneering in disgust at the blood that dribbled down the three chins. "Simply appalling."
Will cocked his head curiously. "What are you going to do with him then, Sire?"
Angelus answered his question with a quick twist of the wrist, sharply snapping the swine's neck. Will watched as his sire took out his favorite handkerchief and thoroughly cleaned his fingers, a disconcerted look on his face at the thought of having touched the wet piggish corpse that lay in the puddles of the dirty alley.
"Brilliant," William smiled brightly. "What now?"
He didn't even see Angelus move, just felt that large, cold hand firmly clamp onto the scruff of his neck.
"Now you explain your disobedience, William, and I think about how I'm going to punish you."
"But I'm your Prince, Sire," the boy returned with a dazzling smile and coy batting of his eyelashes. "Remember?" He sighed with relief as his neck was released from the hold…then yelped at the overpowering blow that followed, sending him back against the wall.
"Yes, you're my Prince," Angelus said thoughtfully as Will sorely brought himself back to his feet. "Perhaps I've been spoiling you."
"But you haven't!" Will protested a bit too quickly. "You just gave me a beating yesterday!" He attempted to back away as his sire advanced on him, but only succeeding in pressing himself against the damp bricks.
"And maybe you're just asking for another."
"I'm not, Sire! I'm not!"
William closed his eyes and awaited the inevitable fist in his face. In his first month as a vampire, beatings had been rare occurrences. However, as the long, sluggish days bled on, the easily bored fledgling obtained a passion for mischief – much to the displeasure of his sire. That's when beatings became daily activities. Angelus sometimes said that he would have to start scheduling them at a set time and William would pout at how clear it was that his sire was only half-joking.
And as luck would have it, the only contact that came then, in the dank alley behind the filthy pub was a long, lingering kiss and Angelus's quick, smooth hands faintly running along his childe's body. Will groaned and arched into the touch, allowing himself to be absorbed in the gentle lips and the possessive tongue, the grabby hands caressing him in all the right places.
"Urgh," Angelus grunted, pulling away as quickly as he'd come on. Will pouted.
"What is it?" Then followed his sire's gaze to the obese body, which had wide, empty eyes staring in their general direction. "He's dead. What of it?" Will stood on his toes and reached for his sire's mouth again, only to be pushed away and pulled back, a strong arm encircled around his waist, holding him still.
"Siiire."
"Hush, William."
Will sulked, rubbing himself slightly against Angelus's leg, eyes pinned on the corpse to see what had the old man all riled up.
A rat scampered out from beneath the heavy carcass.
"Disgusting."
"Sire, it's just a rat…"
"It's filthy vermin, boy. I refuse to touch you in an alley filled with filthy vermin."
"You're mental, that's what you are," Will told him, then looked down when his sire gave him the all-too-common reprimanding respect-your-elders-or-I'll-skin-your-hide look. Angelus frowned. "What?"
"Your face, boy…"
"What about it?"
The handkerchief came out again, this time to roughly assault his cheeks and nose. "It's damn well filthy." Will groaned and tried to move away, but to no avail. "And what's this about me not teaching you any manners? I teach you plenty of manners."
"Yes, Sire."
"And while we're on the subject of manners, we'd probably do well to get back to the matter of you leaving the house when I expressly told you not to."
"Yes, Sire."
"You left your sister all by herself."
"She was talking to her dolls again," Will scowled, then added, "Sire" as an afterthought.
"She said you promised to play with her," Angelus frowned and paused to spit on the handkerchief to remove a particularly trying area of dirt. "You could have at least put effort forth."
"I suppose, Sire."
A slap across the face.
"Don't take that impertinent tone with me, boy."
"No, Sire." The boy treated him to a cheeky grin. "Never again, Sire."
Forgetting momentarily about staying on the subject of manners, the elder vampire caught William's lips in a vicious kiss, shoving his tongue deep down his childe's throat, cupping the boy's pert bum with a knowing hand. Will clambered, grinding against his sire's body, pleading for more.
"Oi, 'Arry! Looks like we have some arsebangers over here."
The two vampires kept on for a few more moments, then released reluctantly with small smiles.
"Are you hungry, darling?" Angelus purred. "Shall Papa feed you?"
Will nodded his head vigorously, clapping in childish delight as his clean sire, dark and dashing, made a big bloody mess.