A/N We finally see Spike for the first time here, although Spike doesn't get together with Buffy until the next chapter. Thanks if you've made it this far. The Bangle slows down from here as the Spuffy picks up(I promise). But there are a few road bumps along the way.

5. Rumors

The constant banging on the front door of the mansion was starting to drive Spike nuts. At first it had been a welcome distraction to the noise Angelus and Dru were making in the front parlor, but the glamour was beginning to wear thin as neither noise was abating.

Of course he had laughed the first time he had heard that the poof had taken up with the Slayer. For a fleeting instant he’d been grateful, thinking that meant Angelus would leave Drusilla alone. It hadn’t worked out that way yet. Now all he could do was sit around wondering how long it would take the dimwitted girl to realize that she was being played for a fool and stake the philandering weasel. But if she was stupid enough to think Angelus resembled Angel in any particular other than physical, to take him at his word about the hunting, or to think that theirs was an exclusive relationship, well, then she must be pretty darn dumb. Of course his grandsire was annoyingly clever, and hadn’t actually outright lied to the chit, so it was just barely possible that he’d be able to continue the farce for a little bit longer.

After the first few minutes of pounding on the door, Spike had begun counting. He’d guessed that the racket couldn’t last more than twenty minutes. It was going on past forty-five now, and it was no longer amusing, if it ever was. Confined to a wheelchair, Spike had to find his own entertainments where he could. For instance, he couldn’t imagine who would have the nerve to knock on the vampire's door at all, let alone for almost a solid hour.

Eventually his curiosity won out over his boredom, and he rolled past the fornicating couple and towards the door. If he was very lucky, there would be some hapless human delivery boy that he could coax into getting close enough for him to eat. He was almost as hungry as he was bored. Both had become his constant companions for some time. Along with the constant anger at his grandsire that he tried so hard to suppress.

Spike was disappointed but not surprised to find a dapper looking vampire standing on the porch instead of the hapless delivery boy he’d been hoping for. After having wasting so much time on the door, the strange vamp didn’t wait for an invitation to enter. Of course he didn’t need one to enter another vampire’s lair, but still, he hadn’t needed to knock on the door either.

The well dressed vamp stayed in the foyer, however, taking a brief look around the premises disdainfully, as if he wished he were wearing gloves. Spike followed his gaze and tried to see the place as an outsider might see it. Of course the courtyard was a bit over the top for a bunch of vampires, but it was easy enough to avoid in daylight, and handy for disciplining underlings when necessary. Other than that, Spike didn’t see anything remarkable. Well, other than the Poofter doing his girl over the sofa, but that wasn’t an unusual sight in a vampire’s lair either. To the contrary. A vampire in a wheelchair was the item out of place.

Perusal done, the dark skinned vampire turned his gaze back down to Spike. “You’re not afraid of me?” he asked blandly.

“Should I be?” Spike snarled. Just because he was currently not at his best, didn’t mean he was intimidated easily. And the twat was in his house. If push came to shove, Spike fully expected that either Angelus or Drusilla would stop what they were doing long enough to protect Spike from dusting, wouldn’t they? It was an unsettling thought, but Spike didn’t let it show on his face.

“Not bloody likely. Name’s Spike. William the Bloody. I’ve killed more than a Slayer or two in my time.”

“Pleased to meet you,” answered the vampire holding out his hand for Spike to shake. “You can call me Mr. Trick.”

Spike merely looked at the proffered hand and pointedly ran his tongue over his teeth. Who the hell did this ponce think he was anyway, with his affected human manners?

“What’d you come bother us for? We’ve no need for another servant, boy.”

Spike hoped that the vampire would take offense. Sometimes the black ones did. A leftover from their human lives.

Instead this vamp remained unflappable. “Not that I was offering, but you do look like you could use some domestic help right about now. If business doesn’t put us at odds, I’d be happy to refer someone to you.”

If he could get out of the chair, Spike thought that he’d gladly rip the fancy man’s head from his shoulders. “You’d better hurry up and state your business right quick, mate, I’m losing my patience.”

Again the vamp remained unperturbed. “Really, and here you look like you’ve got nothing but time on your hands.” It was starting to make Spike’s blood boil, how this guy turned around everything he said. “My business is with Angelus. The so-called ‘Master of Sunnydale.’”

Spike laughed. “You got a problem with that? Then I suggest you go round up your own army and come back tomorrow. Better vamps than you have challenged him, and Angelus is still here, while they are all dust.”

“You misunderstand me. The people I work for have no quarrel with Angelus. If he wants to call himself Master of Sunnydale, we won’t object. Didn’t object to the real Master, nor the Anointed One. Didn’t even object when you set yourself up as Master, did we? Of course we’re still here, and everyone else is dust – present company excepted of course.”

Spike hoped Angelus was listening to this conversation and that once he’d finished with Drusilla he’d show this idiot what pain really was. There hadn’t been much entertainment in the lair of late, and what with the new austerity program there was a damn sight less.

Spike’s was the only diet that had actually improved under the supposed ban on hunting. He’d taken to eating as little as he possibly could a long time ago: it was either that survive on Dru’s leavings and Angelus’s charity.

When Dalton had remained undusted he had made sure that Spike got enough to eat. But after Angelus’s return, and Dalton’s unfortunate run-in with the Judge, Spike’s meals had become a less frequent occurrence. Every once in a while he’d had to make do with the minion’s leftovers, or else do without.

But lately he hadn’t even had to resort to that. Since Angelus had reached an ‘understanding’ with the Slayer, all kinds of bagged blood were available at all hours of the day. If he didn’t need some blood in order to heal Spike might have spurned it all together.

The stupid vamp in the business suit was still talking. “See it doesn’t matter to us who controls the demons or the hellmouth. What concerns us is the possibility of things getting out of control. Demons allowed to run rampant, or a prolonged clan war for instance, would not be good for business. But the day to day stuff, we’ve got no problem with that. We’re more interested in long range planning. And we just want to assure ourselves that we won’t be having any Slayer related problems any time soon.”

Spike could tell that Angelus was finally starting to lose interest in Drusilla. The word “Slayer” had apparently caught his attention.

“Not that we have any particular problem with the Slayer, per se either. I mean, if there has to be one, and she’s gonna be in Sunnydale, well, better the Slayer you know. But the two of them together? Angelus and the Slayer? That could spell trouble. And we want to avoid trouble.”

With a grunt of satisfaction Angelus came and roughly pushed Drusilla out of the way while he searched for his black silk kimono pants. Spike smirked. It would be interesting to see how Angelus chose to deal with this Trick person.

Spike watched Trick’s face as Angelus came up to him, still sans shirt, briefly wiping his right hand on his half-tied pants before holding it out for Trick to shake. Spike saw the brief flicker of distaste on the fastidious vamp’s features, before he thought better of it and accepted Angelus’s handshake.

“You wanted to see me? What was so important that you had to bother me in my own home? When I was busy doing important things?”

A very naked Drusilla had made her way to the foyer and was staring at the black vamp as if she’d never seen anyone that color before. Just to annoy Trick, Angelus pulled her into a brief embrace, before slapping her on the ass and sending her to her room.

“Well? I’m waiting, Trick.”

Trick cleared his throat before continuing, the first sign of nervousness he’d shown so far this evening.

“As I was saying to Spike here, the people I work for have no quarrel with your being Master of Sunnydale. In fact, we rather welcome a strong Master. We are however, somewhat concerned about your relationship with the Slayer. The rumor is that in order to reach an accommodation with the Slayer; you’ve prohibited your minions from hunting. Also there have been reports of you and the Slayer copulating in almost every cemetery and park in Sunnydale. Let’s face it, you have not been discreet. It’s become almost a nightly event. Certain enterprising demons have been running betting pools on where, when and in what position. So it’s only natural that people are beginning to wonder what your intentions are. That is to say, why you haven’t killed her yet. As I’ve told Spike, it’s important to our long range planning that nothing major upsets the Hellmouth for the next year or so.”

“Who are you, the girl’s mother? And if I make a few dollars while providing my minions a good show, well, it’s only fair, isn’t it, seeing how I have imposed new feeding restrictions. But my intentions are just that, mine. I’ll not share them.” Spike could tell that Angelus was finally getting angry at the impertinent visitor. His voice had taken on a decided Irish twang, and that always meant trouble.

Trick didn’t know this, and persisted. “It’s just that word of the changes you’ve made in you clan’s feeding habits have spread. The question then becomes who’s fooling whom? Are you leading the Slayer on a merry ride, or does she have you right where she wants you?”

If the smaller man knew it was coming, he didn’t even try to duck. Angelus’s fist caught him right in the mouth, his ring leaving a nasty looking gash that dripped blood onto the floor. Trick made no move to retaliate or tend to his wound. He simply waited, as if he expected Angelus to answer his question.

“I like you. You’ve got balls coming here and asking me that.” Seeming to come to a decision, Angelus nodded at Trick. “Come back tomorrow night around midnight, and I’ll show you who is the Master of Sunnydale. You can pass on what you see to your Boss, and whoever else wants to know. Don’t bother to knock though. I imagine we’ll all be occupied. Even my friend Spike here. I’ve been thinking about just this situation for a while now, and one way or another I think tomorrow will be the night. You look like a vamp who enjoys watching.” He hadn’t missed Trick’s eyes on him and Drusilla. “I promise, you’ll get quite an eyeful.”