Back home in their dingy subterranean apartment, Spike nurses a shivering Dru, smoothing each disheveled dark hair as she clings to him.

"Tell me, Dru, what is it you've seen?"

"He knows..." she whispers again.

"Yeah, love, you said that. And I'm guessing it's about this Dracula figure, so what is it he knows and what's it got to do with us?"

"You really are slow, William the Bloody."

"Fuck!" Spike exclaims at the second of Dracula's sudden appearances. "I don't recall inviting you in!" Dracula merely laughs at this childish presumption of invitations. "And it's Spike to you."

"What kind of a disturbed name is Spike?" Dracula questions.

"Hey, I earned that name! Took a railroad spike and-"

Dracula silences him with a wave of his pale hand. "Alright, Spike, since you're having such trouble solving the puzzle of why I'm here..." He moves to where Dru is still seated curled upon Spike and yanks her by the arm to his side, forcefully tugging at her hair and tilting her head for a kiss that never quite touches her lips before dropping her to the ground. "...Perhaps it's time someone helped you remember."

With that he swiftly flies at a baffled and perturbed Spike, gripping him by the coat and smashing both their way through the one small window that lets onto the street. Morphing into his bat form as they gain altitude and Spike shouts frightfully, Dracula leads them quickly all the way to his leering castle nestled in the domineering mountains of Romania.

Entering through a high balcony, Dracula changes back into his vampire form mid-air and drops Spike harshly to the stone floor of the tower that cuts into the inky night sky.

Spike stand on wobbly legs and moves confidently towards the other demon. "Now, what the--"

"Silence," Dracula beckons, sending Spike to his knees on the floor.

Spike aims to protest, but the words catch in his throat, the result of Dracula's aforementioned gift of persuasion. The older vampire looms over his kneeling foe, running a sharp fingernail along his jawline.

"You'll recall your little friend, Angelus. Threatening beast subdued by the addition of a soul by a certain Romani clan?"

Spike grimaces, cocking his head to avoid Dracula's touch. Dracula in turn grips his face harshly as he continues.

"A certain clan which you and your lover Drusilla then destroyed."

Spike hisses through his teeth, grunting at his sudden inability to speak.

"You ought to be careful the peoples you go slaughtering. Some of them might be allied with creatures far more powerful than you."

With a thought, Dracula allows Spike his tongue again. The younger vampire spits and pants, glaring into those sinister crystalline eyes.

"You're saying you, all-powerful demon, were in cahoots with some random half-baked clan of gyp-"

"QUIET!" Dracula bellows, impatient already. "The words that pass your tongue are foolish and beguiling. If I had known my ward would be such a pain to converse with... How it does make the capture much less fulfilling."

Dracula rises to his full height and circles the other vampire. He speaks agin, this time only persuasive commands. "On your back, like the vermin you are."

Spike harshly collapses onto his back, arms slung above his head where Dracula waits with heavy iron shackles. After securing Spike in the binds, Dracula moves about the room slowly, contemplatively. He tenderly unclasps his cloak and hangs it on a waiting hook, then rolls and re-buttons his pristine snowy ruffled sleeves above the elbow. Returning to the vampire sprawled out before him, he kneels on one knee.

"You may speak again, so that I may enjoy your screams."

"You sick bitch!" Spike shouts, failing to appear menacing from his position chained on his back to the floor. "Drusilla will be searching for me already, and with plenty of friends to fight you with."

Dracula laughs condescendingly, his back turned again as he rummages in a cabinet against the wall. "Oh, I highly doubt that." He turns back around, revealing a glittering vial of Holy Water.

"Oh, what, you're gonna torture me now for killin' a few blokes? Because of a feud that your people started by the way! Givin' Angelus a soul..."

Dracula lowers himself squarely over Spike, who spits at his face. Dracula forcefully rips at the other demon's shirt, scattering buttons and tearing cloth, to reveal the sleek pale canvas. Shoving one hand over the spitting and bitching mouth, he runs slender fingers along the curvature of the other vampire's torso ever so gently before gripping into the flesh, leaving red trails following his manicured nails.

Spike grunts and laughs incredulously, biting at the hand over his mouth. Dracula allows for a slight fanged bite, mockingly admiring the small drops of blood forming on his hand before gripping his fingers in Spike's platinum hair and tugging his head back to expose his neck.

"So you want to bite?" Dracula hisses, swiftly attacking the taught neck, sucking the sweet blood from his veins as he cries out frustratedly, laughing all the while. After a moment Dracula leans back with satisfaction before promptly un-corking the vial at his side and carefully splattering the venomous Holy Water across Spike's bare chest. This earns a visceral scream.

Dracula gives a deep cackle. "Perhaps this will still be fun."

Spike writhes and hisses. 

Dracula seductively utters, "Stop fighting."

He then reveals a blade from somewhere in his belt and delicately prods at the sizzling flesh.

"Do you still think light of slaughter, Spike?"

He digs the knife deep into his gut, a teeth-gritted groan escaping Spike's mouth. Yanking the blade out, he examines the blood leaking from Spike's body and licks the refuse from the knife. Tossing it aside with a clatter, he returns to his own devices. One arm stretched to grip the other's hair again, now coating the white strands with the vampire's own bright blood, Dracula leans over his prey, feeding on the pooling liquid like a dog, tongue running over ragged flesh. Spike shivers and kicks.

Dracula slams his own body more decisively over Spike's, holding him still with a firm seat at the bottom of his torso and a tight grip on each hand, fingers entwining with such force that the others' threaten to break.

Spike smirks angrily. "Having your fun?" He sputters. "Is this all the famed Dracula is? A petty seductress?"

Dracula glares back.

"At least even the odds a little, make it a fair fight."  Spike tightens his own grip on the domineering vampire's hands.

"Oh but this isn't a fight," Dracula ensures. "This is your death."

Spike retorts with a devilish grin, "Oh, I highly doubt that. I'm giving you too good a time."