Title: Breaking a Slayer: Chapter
13
Disclaimer: I don't own them.
Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.
Distribution: Sure, just let me know.
Feedback: Is always nice. DarkRhiannon@aol.com
Rating: NC-17.
Angel paced the floor of the mansion in hopeless seething fury. He needed
Buffy, wanted her, was dying for her taste…her feel…the velvety softness
of her exquisite skin. And his childe was up there with her right now.
He could hear Spike murmuring to her, wicked promises of things that Angel
desperately desired to do with his mate. But he couldn't. Keeping Angelus
leashed within him was growing more difficult daily, and being with Buffy
and Spike was driving him insane.
But what alternative did he have? Abandoning his mate to his childe's
claim was not possible. He couldn't leave her, she was his, body and soul,
as he was hers until he turned to dust. Which would be soon if he kept
circling the woman who possessed his every thought, night and day, unable
to touch her. Losing her to Spike was killing him and he couldn't keep
taking out his aggression on his childe, could he?
Angel climbed the stairs to Buffy's room, lurking outside the door and
listening to the sighs and moans issuing from within as his childe pleasured
his mate without his presence. He pushed the door open slowly and watched
them from the hallway.
Buffy's robe had fallen back from her shoulders, wreathing her in a
soft silken cloud as she leaned back against the foot of her bed in aroused
abandon. Spike knelt at her feet, sucking one dainty toe after another
into his voracious mouth and teasing ever higher on her shapely legs with
his sensitive fingers.
Angel's low rumbling growl at the sight caught their attention and they
looked up at him, twin expressions of dazed lust and sudden worry passing
over their beautiful countenances. Buffy looked ashamed, then defiant,
while Spike…Spike looked challenging. He pulled his mouth from Buffy's
delicate ankle and growled back at his sire. Game face rose up and Spike
glared at Angel with golden eyes before snarling with teeth exposed and
pulling Buffy's leg up to his waiting mouth. His eyes stayed locked on
Angel's as Spike teased the Slayer with the points of his incisors. He
traced delicate patterns on her calves before mouthing the backs of her
knees and moving upward towards the apex of her legs.
Neither male missed her rush of arousal at the enticing touch, nor her
almost inaudible moan of need as she fell back on the bed, abandoning herself
to the rapture that Spike was so skilled at creating within her.
All control lost, Angel leapt to the bed with a menacing growl at Spike,
pulling Buffy from his Childe and pushing her back into the soft pillows.
He crushed her mouth to his, kissing her roughly and moaning as his large
hands swept over her body. He muttered to her as he lavished kisses over
her face, her neck, her eyes and ears. "So beautiful, so perfect, mmmm,
Beloved, I want you so badly. I need you, Buffy, please…" His passionate
kisses ravished her senses and built her fires to a blazing inferno of
need and desire. He lowered his mouth to her collarbone, sweeping kisses
and tiny licking bites across it before moving lower to her delectable
breasts.
Sighing in pleasure, Buffy gave herself up to Angel's burning passion,
responding to his knowing caresses with increasing fervor. He suckled her
breasts with delighted frenzy, reveling in her heady response to his touch.
She moaned and grabbed for his tousled head, pulling him closer and grinding
her nipple into his fangs until blood flowed from the pinpricks. Angel
moaned in lust and sucked at the amazing blood, his hands roving lower
to Buffy's wet triangle of curls. He teased her hooded clit with gentle
fingers, stroking and pulling at the tiny bud before moving one large hand
lower to spread her legs.
Reluctantly abandoning the healing punctures in her breast, Angel kissed
his way down Buffy's lithe belly to the pulsing object of his desire. He
laved her clit with soft slow licks of his cool tongue and she writhed
under his expert ministrations. Suddenly another cool mouth engulfed the
aching breast that Angel had sipped from and a cool tongue lapped at the
punctures there, opening them and drawing the blood from them again with
tantalizing suction while skillful fingers teased the other aching breast
to nearly equal delight.
The twin sensations threw Buffy over the edge in a rapture of feeling.
She screamed her lovers' names in ecstasy and they responded by doubling
their efforts, forcing another orgasm from her body with mindless need.
Angel's hand slipped down to his pants and he ripped them open. Thought
had left him and he only knew that he must be inside this woman, this mate
of his or die from loss of her. He threw his pants out of the way and moved
to crouch between Buffy's legs. She was still lost in rapture as Spike
nursed blood from her aching breast with pleasurable pain. Neither was
aware of the danger about to descend on them all as Angel thrust forward
to reclaim his mate.
Chapter 14
Spike woke from the daze of lustful rut as he recognized Angel's utter
loss of control. Tearing his mouth from Buffy's soft breast, Spike threw
himself at his sire, taking them both to the floor in a tangle of pale
limbs. Angel surged to his feet, roaring with anger and attacked his childe
on the spot.
Buffy sat up and watched the two fight for a moment before it dawned
upon her exactly what had happened. What she had almost let happen. With
Angel, as always, she lost all control. The soul and blood bonds between
them had strengthened with their close proximity and their desperate need
for each other along with them. She jumped to her feet and dived headfirst
into the fray.
Angel had kicked Spike into the far wall and was attacking with a roundhouse
kick that Spike countered with a sweep and block followed by a right armed
throw. Angel somersaulted out of the throw in a fluid motion too fast for
Buffy's eyes to follow and turned, snarling to leap at his childe. He was
stopped mid-step by a naked, tousled whirlwind, who grabbed him in a wrist-lock
and snapped his arm behind him, pushing hard enough to break a human's
bones with a snap. Buffy pushed him to the floor, straddling his wide,
naked back and holding him in place.
Angel stopped, fury forgotten as he realized what he'd almost done.
"Buffy, Spike, god, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm losing control like
this. I feel like Angelus is right beneath the surface fighting me at every
turn to get out."
"So, what, you thought as long as the crazed one was there, you might
as well get a ride on the soul train?" Spike sneered, furious at his sire's
lack of control. "I thought you were supposed to be the good bloodsucker.
Look at you now, you bloomin' idiot."
Buffy let go of Angel's arm and climbed off of him, stepping quickly
to the bed and pulling the sheets up to her neck. "Angel, is it possible
that something has changed with the curse? You seem to be acting so different."
Angel nodded reluctantly. "I didn't want to tell you before I knew if
it would work, but I…we found a spell in LA. One to anchor my soul. Only,
it seems like the demon is becoming stronger, as well. I'm feeling…darker…more
passionate about everything. About Spike," he glanced at his childe, gloriously
naked and unashamedly glowering at his sire, "and about you." I'm not sure
how much worse it's going to get…I still have three more rituals to complete
before it will be finished at Yule."
"Are you out of you freaking skull, Sire?" Spike yelled. "Yule is nearly
five bloody months away. How're we going to make it that far if you can't
keep that wank of yours in your pants for more than an hour at a time?"
*Here you thought he cared about you, stupid pillock. He doesn't care,
he just wants a punching bag. You're convenient, for a change…that's all,
William,* he sneered at himself internally.
"Angel," Buffy said, looking at him seriously. "I know we can't be…together,
but what if…what if I don't freak out about Spike being with us. He…he
didn't scare me before," she said, blushing a rosy pink. "I think, if you
both go slow with me, that maybe, I mean, I know I'm not very good, but
maybe that would help you…" her voice trailed off in shame as she looked
down, unwilling to meet his eyes.
"Buffy, NO!" Angel cried. "Beloved, you don't understand…you've never
understood. Angelus…I was trying to hurt you that morning. To find the
most terrible thing you could possibly hear. I knew you were innocent.
He played on that…but he lied. He LIED, Buffy. I lost my soul because of
how wonderful you were…I was in heaven, Buffy….HEAVEN. You were amazing.
You were everything." Angel walked to the bed and sat on it, gazing deeply
into Buffy's eyes. "Buffy, Angelus…I…we both wanted you so much it drove
us crazy. After being with you it was even worse. You were all I…he could
think about. The things he wanted to do to you…God, it scares me just to
think of them. But Buffy, know this…no matter how depraved, how dark and
twisted his desires were, they sprang from the same place that my love
for you does. Neither of us could resist you."
"You certainly seemed to be just fine with that afterwards," Buffy muttered.
She took some comfort from his words…apparently Spike wasn't the only one
who enjoyed her body. But why had Angel left her…*duh, stupid. Look what
just nearly happened. If he really did want you, what would he do…he'd
leave to protect you.* Suddenly his seeming abandonment of her became easier
to understand and accept. *He was protecting me from himself.*
"Ok, so that's the what. But here's the thing…I don't want to lose you…either
of you…again. I need you both right now, Angel. What can we do to help
you with the curse?"
Spike nodded in agreement. "Don't bloody want Angelus running around
mucking things up again, Sire. I'll do what it takes to keep you under
control till you finish the last ritual." He joined them on the bed, crawling
lithely to grab a pillow and make himself comfortable.
"Will, you've always looked just like a cat when you did that," Angel
laughed, glad for once to have everything out in the open. "Buffy, I know
we moved too fast for you earlier…but what if you're the one in control…would
that be ok? With Spike here to keep me in line, we could…see what happens…"
Buffy nodded shyly but eagerly. "I want you both. And…and I don't care
if that makes me a slut. God only knows if I'm even going to live to see
20. I'm going to do this now. I want my body back." Her voice had a strength
that had been missing for some time, and she shook her short golden-brown
curls decisively as she leaned forward to circle one warm arm around Spike's
waist while she kissed Angel deeply.
He returned her kiss with passionate gratitude for this amazing woman
and the second, third, fourth chances she kept throwing his way. Spike
moved in her arms until his head was nestled between her sheet-covered
breasts. Slowly he dragged the silky fabric down, teasing the tips of the
rounded mounds with the sheet. Buffy kissed Angel deeper and moaned into
his mouth as Spike finally dropped the sheet and leaned forward to suck
one hard nipple into his mouth.
Spike grinned at her moans of helpless passion and bared the top of
her mound, tugging gently at the soft curly hair he found there. He could
smell his Sire on her, and the scent drove him wild with want. Spike glanced
up once at Angel with golden eyes, before sinking down to Buffy's triangle
and nestling his nose into the glistening curls. He pushed her legs slowly
apart and ran sensitive fingers down her outer lips. Teasing them with
soft strokes too gentle to truly satisfy the writhing girl, Spike blew
across her tiny clit and watched it harder in response. Buffy gasped in
shocked pleasure, unused to this new sensation.
Angel sat up and reached large hands to cup her aching breasts, turning
and pulling her into his lap to allow Spike more access to her heated center.
Angel rubbed his thumbs across her hard nipples, flicking them with rough
thumbnails until she moaned in need. "Please, Angel…Spike….God, please."
"Please, what, Slayer? What do you want me to do?" Spike smirked up
at her, blowing yet another cool breath across her desperate clit. He spread
her legs with a push of his muscular white shoulders and blew harder as
she panted helplessly. He wanted her in control of this…she needed to feel
the power she held over them both.
"Please…won't you touch me?" Buffy was too shy to say what she really
wanted, but hoped he'd know anyway.
"Slayer, if you're old enough to do it, you're old enough to talk about
it. What shall I do to you, Luv? What do you want of me? I'm your slave,
Slayer, command me." Spike was enjoying this moment far too much to rush
it. Forcing Buffy to take control put her at his mercy and far from objecting,
she seemed to revel in it. Of course, he had no mercy for her, at least,
that's what he told himself.
"Spike," she said, blushing, "I want you to taste me, please."
Spike leaned forward and licked her with one long, slow movement of
his cool tongue. "Mmm, Angel is right, Buffy, I should beg you for more."
The Slayer's arousal tasted like ambrosia to Spike. Salty musk that was,
dare he think it, *almost better than blood. Gods, I'm as much of a ninny
as my blinking Sire!*
Buffy gasped and raised her hips to Spike's mouth, begging, "Please,
please, please, Spike, yes…oooh, god!" she screamed as Spike finally spread
her open and kissed her cunt, sucking at the moisture gathered there and
lapping at her molten core.
Angel twisted her aching nipples with just the right painful pleasure
and spread passionate kisses up and down her neck before sucking her earlobe
into his mouth to tease it with his fangs. Buffy rubbed her breasts into
his hands and arched into Spike's talented mouth, groaning in passion and
abandon.
Spike laved her clit with long light strokes of his cool tongue, enflaming
Buffy even more before dipping lower to taste the honey dripping from her.
She was so hot, he could feel the pulse beating frantically under his mouth
and longed to sink fangs into her and drink deep. Game face surfaced at
the thought and he turned to tease her thigh with his fangs. Scraping softly
across the surface, he sucked hard at the smooth skin above the artery
there. Gods and monsters…so close, her blood was calling to him. He didn't
want to hurt her…but he did. He wanted to rend and tear, to taste her unbelievable
blood as it poured from her body. But even more than that, he wanted to
possess her. Spike wanted Buffy to scream his name as she came…to forget
that Angel held her and to focus only on Spike.
Angel sucked at his mark on Buffy's neck, only now really noticing that
Spike had been there and opened the wound again. He could taste his childe's
saliva on his mate's neck and it compelled an instant aggressive response
from his demon. Reasserting his claim, he sank aching fangs deep into the
tough scar tissue while pulling roughly at Buffy's sensitized nipples.
At Angel's bite and Spike's skillful sucking, Buffy exploded into orgasm,
bucking into Spike's avid mouth and arching into her mate's fangs at the
same time. The painful bite held her fixed on the wave of pleasure for
long seconds before she crashed over into the bliss that followed. It seemed
even more intense because of the pain that preceded it, and for the first
time, Buffy thought she understood why the vampires liked to mix pain with
pleasure in their play.
Angel groaned against her neck, licking gently at the wounds to close
them. He and Spike gazed into each other's amber eyes and they moved as
one, laying Buffy gently to one side on the pillows before reaching for
each other.
Buffy watched in amazed satiation as her lovers kissed. It was nothing
like the gentle kisses they pressed on her. This was violent, animalistic
rut. They tore at each other's mouths with fang and tongue, sucking the
blood from lips and biting passionately at each other. Angel forced Spike's
head down and Spike sucked his hard cock into his mouth in one movement.
Buffy watched as Spike licked Angel from root to head, lapping eagerly
at the end before engulfing him again. *I couldn’t do that,* she thought…*he's
just way too big!*
Angel pulled his childe off of him and flipped him over with his head
next to Buffy on the pillows. Rubbing his glistening cock against Spike's
waiting ass, Angel plunged home in one desperate thrust and Spike moaned
in lustful pain at his sire's possession. Beginning a slow pace, Angel
pulled Spike's hips back to himself, grinding further into his childe with
every stroke. Buffy couldn't believe how beautiful they looked, how dangerous…with
game faces on and blood still dripping from the corners of their mouths.
She'd thought she was spent, but now…now she was dripping again, with want
and lust.
She leaned forward and captured Spike's mouth in a hard kiss and he
grabbed for her shoulders, pulling her under him and Angel with one strong
movement. He positioned himself at her entrance and paused, looking into
her eyes for permission before thrusting home. Buffy shrieked in pleasure
and Spike's eyes rolled back as he was simultaneously fucked by Angel while
fucking Buffy.
Spike had never known such heady pleasure before. The Slayer's hot little
body was clutching at him with muscles that would surely rip him to shreds.
And his Sire's cold cock was penetrating him deeper with every thrust and
pushing him deeper into the Slayer as well.
Angel controlled their motion, pulling Spike back and out of Buffy with
his large hands braced on Spike's hips before pushing back into his childe
and grinding Spike into Buffy again. Spike was going to be split apart
or burned to death in the inferno that was the Slayer, he was sure, but
he'd die a happy vampire.
Angel increased the tempo and Buffy began panting in lust as her pussy
squeezed Spike tighter and faster with every thrust. Spike was moaning
into her mouth now, kissing her desperately.
Angel felt his climax approaching and thrust faster as Buffy's cries
indicated that she, too was coming. As the orgasm broke over him, Angel
leaned forward and bit into Spike's neck. Spike, not able to actually bite
Buffy, nevertheless, latched onto his sire's still oozing bite and sucked
the blood from her neck as she pulled him with her over the precipice.
They plunged together into the bliss and calm of their aftermaths and separated
just enough to collapse into a heap with Angel on one side of Buffy and
Spike on the other.
"If that's what it takes to keep Angelus away, you can bloody count
me in every time," Spike growled, his game face sliding off and his handsome
baby blues twinkling cheerily at Angel. He grinned impudently at Buffy,
then and added, "of course, Slayer, you know that this is a real chore
for me."
Buffy punched him gently in the arm, too happy and spent to mind his
teasing and secretly pleased that he seemed so overcome. She kissed Spike
and then leaned over to give Angel a longer, tender kiss. She curled her
hot body gratefully between their cool ones and sank into the most restful
sleep she'd had since the night Angel had left her so long ago. Her lovers
grinned at each other in triumph and curled themselves around her warmth
to sleep, as well
Chapter 15
Buffy pulled herself from the cool clutches of her vampiric lovers and
walked slowly to the bathroom. She ran herself a hot bath, pouring a heaping
cup of vanilla bubble bath into it and hissing as she climbed in. She was
sore in places she hadn't expected, but it was a good feeling, rather like
working a set of long-ignored muscles. Laying her head back against the
cool marble, she thought about exactly what she was going to say to Giles
when he arrived back in Sunnydale later that afternoon.
On the one hand, she was still more than a little angry at him and her
other friends for not realizing that Faith had switched their bodies. After
all, Buffy had known Giles in demon form, shouldn't he have recognized
her somehow? She knew she was being irrational -- after all, Giles had
been trying to act like himself, whereas Faith had been trying to act like
Buffy. It was no wonder she'd been able to fool them. But Buffy still felt
betrayed, however irrational the feeling. Betrayed and…well…lost. With
no friends and no watcher for most of the summer, not to mention the loss
of her mother *and* her home, she would have felt bad enough, even leaving
aside the rape and beating she'd gone through.
One thing was certain, though, she decided. No one was telling her what
to do anymore. She was content with her living situation, however bizarre
it might be. She wasn't giving up either of her undead lovers…not without
a fight.
Ducking her head under the warm water, she swooshed the short curls
back and forth to get them thoroughly wet before surfacing. She wiped the
water from her eyes and reached one hand for the shampoo, but it wasn't
there. Suddenly, she felt something dripping onto her head and looked up
to see Angel crouching by the tub surround with the shampoo bottle. He
half-smiled at her in his knowing way and put the bottle down, moving cool
hands to massage the shampoo into her scalp. Buffy sighed in pleasure and
relaxed into his hands, loving the feel of his strong fingers stroking
and tugging at her thick hair. He rubbed and caressed until every inch
of her head felt like it had been smoothed with velvet. When she was about
ready to fall asleep, he pushed her back under the water to rinse.
Buffy came up, sputtering, and splashed him with a fistful of bubbles.
Angel actually laughed out loud and splashed her back, his much larger
hand getting a good bit more water into the action. Buffy retaliated by
pulling him headlong into the tub with her.
Angel surfaced, looking completely shocked and very silly with his hair
dripping water from each spiky tuft. Spluttering needlessly, he caught
her and pulled her to him, about to push her back under the water again,
when the sight of her pink nipples peeking through the bubbles made him
go very still. He slowly reached his hands out to cup her breasts gently,
his cool palms pebbling the nipples instantly in the warm water.
Buffy groaned and moved closer to Angel, literally awash in the sensations
he provoked so easily within her. She reached for him, but his control
was back this morning and he knew that if he let her touch him, all that
hard-won resolve would disappear. Instead, he pushed her back against the
side of the tub and grinned knowingly at her before disappearing under
the bubbles.
Buffy gasped as she felt Angel's cool hands pushing her thighs apart.
It had never occurred to her that he really didn't need to breathe. His
sensitive fingers moved slowly up her legs until he reached the tender
hollows of her hips. He pushed them even further apart, teasing the soft
skin there, stretching and opening her to his questing fingers. She felt
one cool finger tease her nether lips, stroking first one, then the other
until she groaned in desire.
Suddenly, the water sloshed around her as he surged forward, taking
her clit in his cold mouth. Buffy shrieked in lust as Angel sucked her.
He pressed first one then two fingers into her warm pussy and she nearly
jumped out of the water. She responded to the rhythm he set, rocking against
his fingers and mouth until she came in a burst of pleasure.
Spike chose that exact moment to strut into the bathroom, plopping himself
next to her on the tub surround in all his naked glory. Buffy thought,
*I will never get used to naked Spike. Never, never, never. And he never
seems even the slightest bit embarrassed about being nude.* She, on the
other hand, was feeling decidedly exposed, which she knew was stupid, since
he'd seen and touched everything already.
"So, Slayer, decided to have a little party all by your lonesome here
in the tub? Should'a called me. I would have come and joined you," he punned,
looking at her with dark eyes that screamed sex.
"Um, you thought I was…" Buffy paused, unwilling to even say the word.
"Well, I'd call it wanking, if t'were me, but I'm not sure what you
call it, Slayer. Still, kinda silly for you to do it all alone," he purred.
"There's plenty of me to go around." He grinned cockily at her and stroked
his hand down her damp arm, sending tingles up and down her nerves.
Angel chose that moment to surface between her legs, shaking his head
like a dog to rid it of water. He licked his lips and slid up her slippery
body to kiss her. Spike yelped and fell backwards off the tub, landing
in an undignified tangle on the floor. Buffy burst out laughing, and Angel
looked confused for a moment, then grinned himself as Spike swore a blue
streak on the floor.
"Jesus Christ, Peaches, give a guy a little warning before you do that.
Trying to kill me - again? Now I see what you were up to, Slayer. Don't
lose his soul for him, Pet, though it sounded more like you were the one
doing the screaming." Spike stood up and gazed at the two lovers with lust-filled
eyes. If he were brutally honest with himself, he didn't know which of
them was more enticing to him right now. The Slayer was all golden sunshine,
her skin glowing a healthy tan and her eyes the green-hazel of turning
leaves.
But his sire, oh. Darkness personified was Angel. Night dark eyes, dark
hair, dark nature, with that strong, dangerous body that dominated everything
around him. Spike knew that much of the pull he felt was the sire/childe
bond. It wasn't even precisely sexual, though that was the simplest expression
of it. It was a sense of being complete, of being home that he always felt
when he was near Angel, no matter how he tried to fight it.
As an alpha, a master vampire in his own right, the nearly automatic
submission he felt when near Angel grated on his every nerve, but the satisfaction
of that submission also soothed the very nerves that Angel upset so. It
was different with a female sire, though certainly Angelus and Darla had
delighted in some knock down drag out fights. She was right brutal, was
his grandsire, but he'd always had the feeling that Angelus tolerated the
abuse because he enjoyed it, not because he craved the submission that
went with it.
Spike shook his head angrily at himself. *Turning me into a bloody pouf,
he is. Look at me, all broody, just like his majesty. I need a good fight,
that's what…to set everything aright again.* "So," he smirked coolly at
the waterlogged lovers, "you two spending the rest of the afternoon in
there, or you coming out?"
"Afternoon, God, what time is it, Spike?" Buffy asked, standing and
climbing quickly from the warm tub.
Spike wrapped her in a huge towel, surrounding her like an infant and
hugging her in his strong arms, rubbing briskly to dry her off. "It's a
bit after 3, why, Pet?"
"Damn," Buffy swore. "Giles's plane is supposed to get here at 3:30
today, that's why, Spike. I've got to get to the airport, pronto." She
pushed away from him and scrubbed the towel across her head rapidly to
dry her hair. "At least this is quick now," she muttered, dropping the
towel and walking to the bedroom to pull on clean underwear, a tank-top,
sweats and a flannel shirt. Cramming her sneakers on, she sprinted for
the door, leaving her nonplussed lovers staring after her in amazement.
"Wow, I haven't seen her move that quickly in a while," Angel remarked
as he climbed out of the tub.
Spike took one longing look at his sire's large dripping frame and swore,
stomping from the bathroom and grabbing for his own clothes. He crammed
himself into his jeans and turned to face Angel, coming from the bathroom
and drying himself with another sheet, this one dwarfed by his huge frame.
His muscles glistened with water and Spike's eyes followed the trail of
one droplet down the broad chest to the tapered waist and down further…
Spike swallowed and blurted out, "Looks like you need some exercise,
Sire. How about a little sparring session downstairs? Work off some of
that tension you seem to carry around with you everywhere."
Angel looked up in bemusement. "You want to fight? Why?"
Spike glanced away. "Can't fight humans, the chip flares. Haven't caught
that many demons of late. Need some exercise. Work off some steam. You
know."
Angel nodded. He, too, could use the release. Being this close to Buffy
kept him in an almost constant state of arousal and he had little outlet
for it other than Spike. Angel knew that Spike resented the power of the
sire/childe bond and tried not to push the limits of his childe's tolerance
too much. At least, when he could think. When he was actually caught up
in the bond with Spike, thinking pretty much went out the window. Age-old
instincts flared and his deep need to assert dominance took over the only
way it could. *Well,* Angel thought, *I suppose I could just rip hunks
of flesh out of him. Come to think of it, he might prefer that. But I wouldn't.
He's so beautiful, so dangerous, such a mixture of assurance and vulnerability.
Will is irresistible and the worst part is, he doesn't even know how marvelous
he truly is.*
Angel pulled his own pants on and the two started down the stairs toward
the kitchen. He pulled two packets of blood from the fridge while Spike
grabbed their mugs from the cabinet. Companionably sipping the warmed blood
after it came from the microwave, Angel and Spike walked to the great room.
Angel finished first and began hauling the couch and chairs out of the
way. Spike dragged the coffee table to the side and moved a lamp.
"Weapons?" Angel asked with an inquiring look at his childe.
"How about swords. Haven't bested you with those in some time." Spike
smirked at him.
"You've never bested me with swords, Childe," Angel rumbled at Spike
as he opened the long weapons chest and pulled two matched hand-and-a-half
swords from it. Tossing one to Spike, as only a vampire could do with such
a heavy weapon, Angel closed the chest and stalked toward his childe.
"Well, maybe not, but the Slayer has…" Spike sneered.
Angel blinked for a moment, then remembered the fight with Buffy in
this very room and its dreadful aftermath. "Thanks, Spike," he growled.
"What for, Peaches?" Spike asked, a bit askance at Angel's sudden ferocity.
"For making me *want* to fight you. En garde!"
*
Buffy wanted to run. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be anywhere
but here, in the airport, waiting for Giles to get off the plane. It was
a good thing that Giles had bought his tickets so long ago, since he'd
had no way to contact her since he'd left. She'd lost the house only a
few weeks later, so even if he had called her, he wouldn't have been able
to reach anyone with the phone disconnected.
Part of her, a small, childish part, hoped he'd tried to call and been
worried about her. With her mother gone and her father long absent from
her life, Giles had become the only thing close to a parent. His abandonment
of her, even though it wasn't meant to be so, had nonetheless been extremely
traumatic.
She searched the crowd for that familiar bespectacled profile. Laughing
couples exited the plane, children ran to greet grandparents. Friends raced
into each other's arms. Never had she been more conscious of her own isolation
from humanity. She was alone. Alone in the dark with her vampires, both
friend and foe.
Shaking her head and kicking herself mentally for being so damn morose,
Buffy continued to search the crowd. At last, she saw the slightly balding
head and tweed-encased frame of her Watcher striding off the plane.
Rupert Giles paced forward, grateful to be free of the enclosed confines
of the plane and the overwhelming press of crude humanity that accompanied
him. This was why he preferred books to people. Most of them had the refined
sensibilities of cockroaches, in his humble opinion. *Ah, but where is
Buffy?* He scanned the crowd for the familiar blonde head and scantily
clad body of his Slayer, passing over a drab-looking girl with short golden-brown
curls without a second glance. He walked forward and jumped, startled as
the girl grabbed him and hugged him.
"I say, who…Buffy?" he gasped, amazed at the difference in her appearance.
She let him go and stepped back a ways. Though he'd often wished that Buffy
would spend a bit, well actually a great deal, less time worrying about
her appearance and a bit more time on books and strategy, he'd never in
a million years expected to see her looking quite so…drab. She was thin,
much thinner than when he'd last seen her and her eyes…her eyes spoke of
pain that time hadn't dulled. What in God's name had happened whilst he
was gone?!
Giles polished his glasses and stared at his Slayer, uncertain of what
to say. "Um, er, ah, Buffy, good to see you. You're looking…um, I hope
your summer has been uneventful?" His voice trailed off as she gazed at
him stonily for a moment.
"Shouldn't we be getting your luggage?" Buffy said, dropping her eyes
from his, unwilling to discuss anything too intimate in this setting.
Giles honored her unspoken wishes and gestured for her to proceed him
towards the luggage carousel. They waited in uncomfortable silence, surrounded
by myriad other travelers with lovers, friends and children babbling in
exuberant tones. Giles was now struck by how out of place Buffy seemed.
She'd never been uneasy in crowds before, but she winced as if hurt every
time a moderately loud noise occurred. And she shrank from the touch of
the other people surrounding them as if she'd been burned. Clearly all
was far from well with his Slayer.
After retrieving his bags, Giles and Buffy walked to the curb and he
hailed a cab to take them back to his apartment. "So, how *has* your summer
been?" he inquired genially, as they rode in the back seat, thinking the
question innocuous enough for public consumption. To his surprise, Buffy's
eyes filled with tears and she pulled away towards the door, looking out
the window to distance herself from him.
"Let's wait…wait till we get to your place," her voice cracked and she
sniffed, sounding close to weeping.
"Of course, of course…" he trailed off, uncertain of what he'd said
to upset her so.
They arrived and he paid the cabby, tipping moderately and they carried
his bags inside. Buffy placed the ones she carried on the floor and went
to look out the window, visibly withdrawing from him.
Giles was unsure how to proceed. He didn't want to push…"Tea! Would
you care for some tea, Buffy?"
"Sure."
He nodded in relief and walked to the kitchen, taking comfort in the
predictable ritual. Scald the pot to warm it while the water boiled on
the stove. Measure the loose tea into the ball and close it. Damn. He'd
no cream or lemon slices. Well, they'd have to make do with sugar. At least
the brown sugar cubes he'd brought back from England were ready and available
in his travel case. He drained the teapot and placed the ball in, filling
it up and covering it with a cozy to steep. He waited in silence for a
few minutes, puttering about in the kitchen for no real reason.
"So. The Watchers' conference went well. We discussed some fascinating
cases. I actually presented on several myself…um," he fiddled with his
glasses again, "do you care to say what you've been up to while I was away?"
he asked uncertainly from the kitchen as he filled two cups with the warm
liquid and added sugar. He carried the cups out and placed one on the table
near the window, turning and sitting on his couch to face Buffy.
"Faith stole my body. You didn't notice. She slept with Riley and half
a fraternity at school. She switched back and left me to be gang-raped
at a bar. Riley dumped me. I left school. Mom died. I lost the house. I
killed two men. Spike saved me. Angel helped him. I'm living with Spike
and Angel at the mansion now." Buffy continued to stare out the window,
delivering the laundry list of atrocities in a toneless voice as if she
were reciting a list of chores.
Giles spat the sip of tea he'd taken across the room, choking in shock
at Buffy's words. He dropped the cup to the table with a thunk and leaped
to his feet, crossing the room in seconds to grab Buffy's shoulders and
turn her about to face him.
"My God, Buffy. Don't make sick jokes about such dire things, for goodness
sake!" he shouted, glaring into her face and praying that was all this
was. Her shell-shocked features gave the lie to his hope and he sank to
his knees, holding the girl in his arms as she began to cry, softly at
first and then with great wrenching sobs that shook her entire too-thin
frame.
"Shush, shush, Buffy, it's alright. Everything is alright now. I'm here.
I'm here Buffy." His awkwardness disappeared as he held the girl who was
like his daughter in his arms and tried to comfort her with soft and gentle
words. *But who will comfort me?* he wondered. *I left her, I didn't even
recognize her. Or perhaps I was too caught up in my own life. I've felt
adrift since she started college, unable to truly guide her anymore as
she becomes an adult. I've distanced myself from her every chance I got
and this…this catastrophic result was my fault. I should have known, damn
it!* Eventually, her shuddering stopped and she quieted, leaning against
his chest and sighing as he wiped her face with his handkerchief.
Giles drew the Slayer to his couch, tucking an afghan around her securely
and handing her tea cup to her. She sipped at it slowly and haltingly recounted
the grim tale of Faith's crime, the body switch and return, and subsequent
trials she'd had to face alone, with no friends, no family and no Watcher
to comfort or guide her. Giles was struck by the loneliness and despair
that pervaded the earlier parts of the account and the self-assurance with
which she spoke of Spike and Angel. Whatever his decidedly mixed feelings
about the vampires, there was no questioning that without them, Buffy would
almost certainly have perished.
Chapter 16
Spike was having a bloody marvelous time. Literally. He lunged at Angel,
scything the sword across his sire's bare midsection with a graceful swing.
Angel narrowly missed being gutted by the sharp blade, jumping backward
at the last moment so the tip just grazed his abs.
"First blood," Spike smirked at his sire, running one finger down the
flat of the blade and scooping up Angel's blood. He stuck the finger in
his mouth and savored the rich taste like a child stealing frosting. He
didn’t get to mock for long, though. Angel retaliated with a parry and
riposte that shouldn't have been possible with a broadsword. Vampiric strength
and agility made the impossible easy and the two fell to fighting in earnest.
Angel scored the next hit, several minutes later, feinting to the left
and actually convincing Spike that he was headed there. Instead, he danced
forward on the balls of his feet and licked the blade across his childe's
muscular biceps, scoring it lightly, but deep enough to sting.
"Bollocks!" Spike swore, grabbing at the cut for a moment and then rushing
forward to punish his sire for the insulting ease with which he'd scored.
Angel taunted the smaller male, spinning and kicking his childe's legs
out from under him and chuckling as the swearing grew more inventive.
"You've been spending too much time brawling and no time training,"
Angel said, disapprovingly. "What did I teach you about slacking off?"
Spike snarked back, "When do I have time to dance around in pansy-ass
sword practice, Sire? Too busy trying to off the Slayer…and now a days…well,
too busy doing other things to her," he laughed, then swallowed as Angel
growled and leapt for him in deadly earnest response.
The parries and lunges flew back and forth in a blur of motion as each
master vampire tried to gain the upper hand. Spike was faster, but Angel
was amazingly light on his feet. His combination of grace, power and speed
was truly formidable.
"Too many of our foes, demon or human, use the sword as a preferred
weapon, Childe. I taught you that over a century ago and it still holds
true today. Look at the Three or the Assassins. It doesn't do to get clumsy,
William. Or you *will* be bloody!" Angel's sword licked once to Spike's
left cheek, once to the right in lighting fast strikes that left stinging
wounds dripping blood from the jutting cheekbones.
Spike snarled, forgetting for the moment that this was just in play
and transported back to his fledgling days when Angelus forced hours of
sword practice on him daily and punished the slightest slip with horrific
tortures each night. Spike had hated the humiliation worse than the pain.
Knowing that his sire could best him at any time and chose to punish him
instead…it drove him mad with anger. He'd learned faster than any fledgling
of Angelus's…much faster than Penn, who'd only sought to learn the torture,
not the finesse.
Spike knew he'd never beat Angel at this, his chosen game. The trick
was to change the rules. Spike was a master at that. He glanced around
the room, looking for possible tools and found nothing at first. Then his
eyes lit on one of Buffy's discarded shirts. He could smell her scent on
it from here and if he could, then bets were on that Angel was drowning
in it. *Probably why the big lummox is in such a state,* he thought to
himself.
He danced backwards from Angel's flitting blade and made his way, as
if in retreat, to the shirt. Scooping it up in his right hand, he continued
to hold Angel off with his left. Spike lifted the shirt to his nose and
took a dramatic breath from it, looking deep into Angel's dark eyes. He
stroked down the side of his bleeding face with the shirt, rubbing it sensually
across his chest and using the soft flannel to tease his nipples into hardness
without breaking Angel's gaze.
Angel stopped dead in his tracks, swallowing convulsively while he watched
his childe play with his mate's shirt. Spike licked his lips suggestively,
then opened his mouth wider, as if waiting for it to be filled.
Angel dropped his sword and lunged for his childe. Spike dropped his
as well, but his lunge was accompanied by a fast right and equally brutal
left uppercut to Angel's chiseled chin. His sire dropped like a sack of
potatoes from his homeland and sprawled on the floor at Spike's feet. Spike
was quick to take advantage of his momentary weakness and leapt for his
sire, pinning him to the floor and punching him in the gut hard enough
to bruise even vampiric flesh.
"That's for the cut on my right cheek," he panted, "and that's for the
cut on my left. This is for fucking me in front of the Slayer," a right
jab to the chin…"and thi…" his voice was halted as Angel's large hand grabbed
Spike's muscled neck and propelled him backward into the wall.
Angel lunged for his childe and slammed him into the wall again, embarrassed
and enraged that his childe could distract him so easily. He lifted Spike's
smaller frame and held him against the stone wall, grinding his naked back
into the rough surface and drawing blood. The scent was intoxicating…filled
with rage and suppressed desire; familiar family scent and the elusive
but powerful tang of the Slayer, as well.
"You taunt me at your own peril, Childe. I did not give you permission
to drink from my mate," Angel growled dangerously as Spike hung in his
huge hands. "Nor did you ask my permission to fuck her. Or eat her. She
is mine, I claimed her, I marked her, and you may not trespass against
my will. I care not whether the bite was yours…the result is the same.
I can scent her blood in you, Childe and I AM NOT PLEASED," he roared.
He bit viciously into Spike's neck, tearing at the white flesh with no
regard to his childe's pleasure or pain.
This was challenge and response, pure and simple. No childe could drink
from a mate without permission. It wasn't done. And it wasn't up to the
mate…not in vampire clans. Angel might not be the scourge that Angelus
had been, but the instincts were the same and when challenged, the result
might be the same as well.
Spike sagged in Angel's grasp, unable to contest the issue with his
sire drinking so forcefully from him. Automatic, ingrained response made
him submit, and even his alpha identity shuddered away from contesting
another's mate. What he had done was punishable by death, should his sire
demand it. And yet, he couldn't regret tasting Buffy. She was so strong,
so alive, despite her inner turmoil. Her blood was the richest he'd ever
tasted and its strength flowed through his veins now, changing him in ways
he'd never anticipated. He felt as if he'd gained a century's worth of
power from the tiny taste he'd had of her. Now he knew how Angel had become
so strong. Hells, his sire had drained her to the point of death after
Faith had poisoned him, according to the Slayer's friends. Only multiple
transfusions had saved her. Spike could only guess at the power that Angel
had gained from that forbidden feast.
At last, Angel lifted his head, his mouth dripping blood that he licked
languidly from his lips and chin. He let Spike slump to the floor, and
paced to the swords, walking back and cleaning them on his childe's jeans
before replacing them carefully in the weapon trunk. Each gesture was confirmation
of Spike's place as beta male, and each slight enraged him further. Yet
he could do nothing to retaliate. Angel held all the cards. The Slayer
would do what Angel wished, Spike knew, and until the thrice damned chip
was out of his head, so would he. He sighed and leaned his head back against
the wall, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this mess and how he could
ever get out.
*
*If I drink any more damned tea, I will float away to mother England,*
thought Giles to himself. Tea, along with polishing his glasses, was his
automatic response to stress. Well, that and a spot or two of something
in the tea, to help sooth anxious nerves. But he'd felt uneasy drinking
in front of Buffy, as if that sought to negate her pain somehow. She deserved
more from him, God knew, so he simply brewed more tea whilst she recited
the events of her summer in hell with a steady voice that was much too
calm. Clearly, she was still traumatized by the events, one only had to
look at her appearance to know that. Giles had never seen her hide in plain
view before, but that was precisely what his Slayer was attempting to do.
She'd cut the golden hair that drew so many admiring glances from males,
old and young…cropped it to the point of androgyny. The earrings she'd
always worn were gone, along with the rings with which she'd loved to festoon
her hands, despite his warnings that they might impinge on her slaying.
He knew now why he'd failed to recognize her at the airport…even her demeanor
had changed. The prancing strut of a confident teenager in her prime had
given way to a hunch-shouldered, wincing mien that screamed "don't notice
me." Giles had no idea how to deal with this, nor, indeed, whether Buffy
was even aware of the signals she sent out.
He did know that his very touch made her extremely uneasy. He'd felt
tension in her the moment he'd hugged her to him near the window; and once
her crying had worn off, she seemed exceedingly uncomfortable if he moved
too near her. Giles wondered how many people she'd been near in the past
two months…certainly it couldn't have been many from Buffy's reaction to
him. He kept his observations to himself, making a mental note to record
them in his Watcher's diary later that day, while they were still fresh
in his mind. He had to find a way to help his young Slayer…she seemed on
the verge of breaking…a fate that could be catastrophic to them all.
*
Angel moved the furniture back to its usual positions in the great room,
studiously avoiding the gaze of his childe. He'd lost control of the demon
again. It was becoming an almost daily occurrence, and one that he could
not seem to stop. Spike had always been his most difficult childe, and
Angelus had gloried in his punishments, devising new and ever more painful
methods for controlling his feisty fledgling. The past warred with the
present as the demon warred with the soul, and Angel himself was unsure
of the outcome.
He paced back to his childe and offered a hand to him. Spike glared
at Angel for a long moment before accepting the offer and pulling himself
laboriously to his feet. Angel didn't offer his neck to his childe, that
would negate the point he'd made earlier, but he did guide the slighter
man to the kitchen, where he prepared more blood for them both.
Spike gazed inscrutably at his sire as he sat and sipped the warm liquid.
"So, Peaches, when are we going to LA to get this bloody chip outta my
skull?" he queried.
"We need to make sure that Buffy will be all right before we can go
anywhere," Angel said, not meeting his childe's eyes.
"Should be easy, now that the Watcher's back. He'll take her under his
wing and we can scarper off to see that doc of yours. Unless you've decided
to welsh on your word, that is, Peaches," Spike sneered.
"I keep my word, Spike. You'll have the chip out. What you do after
that is up to you," Angel gritted, unwilling to admit how much he feared
the outcome of that surgery.
"I'll believe that when I see it, Sire. Ah, well, innit time for the
Slayer to be returning?" Spike asked, trying not to sound too concerned
and failing miserably.
"I think we should go check on her," Angel rumbled, worried that Giles
could have handled his volatile mate in exactly the wrong way and wondering
how Buffy had reacted to her Watcher's return.
They finished the blood and headed upstairs for fresh clothes to replace
their blood spattered jeans. That done, the vampires vanished into the
night… predators in search of the one who preyed on them…a strange state
of affairs, indeed.
*
Buffy remained crouched on Giles's couch, holding her empty tea cup
in both hands as if trying to draw some last warmth from the cool china.
She wouldn't meet his eyes and had retreated into monosyllabic responses
to his questions. Exhausted from his trip, all Giles really wanted at this
point was his bed, but he was unwilling to shoo the Slayer out into the
night as if he didn't care for her. She seemed unwilling to leave him,
so he stood to make yet more tea in hopes it might keep him awake.
His door opened unexpectedly and he looked up to find Angel looming
there in the dark, with Spike like a reverse shadow trailing behind him.
Angel glanced down at Giles from under brooding brows. "May we come in,
Giles?" he asked politely but gruffly.
"You've already been in here, both of you. I haven't invoked the ritual."
"I didn't mean that, I was just…trying to be polite," responded the
dark vampire. The lighter one didn't bother with politeness, he just elbowed
his sire aside and glided into the room, his sharp eyes fixed on the slumping
slayer.
"Here, Pet, what's all this then. Would'a thought you'd be home hours
ago. Watcher givin' you a hard time?" he asked, glaring at Giles for a
moment before moving to kneel at Buffy's feet.
She reached one hand to him and Spike grabbed it between his own, rubbing
as if he could warm her…a clear impossibility. "He's been fine, Spike,
really. I just had…a lot to tell him."
"I bet," Spike snarked. "So Rupes, how does it feel to know you failed
your Slayer…again?" he asked angrily.
Giles had no response, indeed, could not seem to process the sight of
Spike kneeling before the Slayer. Rupert would have sworn before this moment
that Spike would happily kill Buffy and dance in her blood or at the very
least, stand by and cheer as she died. Instead, the blond vampire seemed
to be doing his best to care for her. Giles's whole world seemed to tilt
on its axis.
"That's enough, Spike," growled Angel. "Buffy is tired, it's time to
get her home. Rupert, we're keeping night hours, lately. Buffy needs her
sleep, she's been up too long as it is. You can come by the mansion tomorrow
near twilight to see her, if you choose." The brooding vampire didn't give
Giles so much as a by your leave, just scooped the unresisting Slayer up
in his strong arms and slipped from the room. Spike trailed them and slammed
the door behind him as he left.
"Good heavens," Giles said to himself, finally heading to the brandy
bottle. "Now I know why active Watchers should never go on holiday." He
headed upstairs with snifter in hand, weary bones aching for his familiar
bed and conflicting thoughts pounding through his tired brain.
Title Page
Author's Page Breaking A Slayer 17-20
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