Angelus looked at the sorry excuse for a being, and wondered what she ever saw in him. 

Weak that was all he ever was, weak and stupid. Oh, yes, stupid can’t forget that; incredibly blind, naïve, insecure stupidity such as his couldn’t be ignored. The vampire watched him for a little bit, contemplating not so much his next move, for that was painfully (his, not Angelus’) obvious. No, it was the question that plagued him for years: What she did she ever see in such a weakling? 

He didn’t know, and doubted he’d ever understand it. 

Buffy, Angelus knew, was a strong-minded individual, she was smart, feisty, and didn’t take lip from anyone. She was the slayer and that, he was sure, had something to do with her personality, but not everything; most of what she was, was already an intrinsic part of who she was, Buffy. She wasn’t subservient, or at least not unless she was willing – and he could make her so very willing – and she’d never, ever, play second to anyone. 

How often had he found one of the vampire whores he’d long ago dallied with dust? She always made sure he knew those long ago conquests were dead because of her and that she knew, oh yes, she knew, what he’d once done with them. If any of the remaining whores thought he’d be angry or he’d actually try to stop Buffy, they were sadly mistaken. Soon afterwards, they, too, joined their dusted counterparts. 

Angelus loved it when she was jealous, and he showed his appreciation in a myriad of ways – carnal, jewels, and words of love and affection, but always carnality – for sometimes days on end. 

Now, however, now he looked at the being before him and wondered: had he driven her to this? Had he driven her, not insane as was his long ago and original plan, not into his arms, that came later, but to…this? 

“Riley Finn,” Angelus said in that mocking voice the human had grown, over the days he’d been chained in this dungeon, to fear and loath, “What made you think you’d ever be good enough for her? She’s mine; she always has been and always will be.” 

Angelus stalked over to the man who once called the slayer – Angelus’ slayer – lover, and ran the flat edge of his knife along Riley’s cheek as he continued. Angelus didn’t expect an answer, even if he truly did want to know. “Really, did you think you could ever match her?” He clucked in derisive sympathy, “You can’t hold a candle to her, Finn; you’re unworthy of following her, let alone touching her body.” 

Frankly, if given the choice, Angelus almost preferred Angel to this one. And that was saying something. At least with Angel, Angelus was there, egging the soul on, feeling, removed as he was, everything that soul felt. Besides, Angel could hold his own with Buffy, he may have wanted to worship her – and she deserved no less – and he may have wanted to coddle her from things Angel didn’t ever want her to learn about him, but he couldn’t ever hold himself back. 

Angel was a vampire, soul or not, and he had the same sexual tastes as Angelus. With Buffy at least. And only with Buffy was it ever worth it, letting those tastes free reign. 

Yes, Angel could hold his own with Buffy, Riley…could not. 

‘Nice of you to notice,’ his constant pain in the ass soul taunted. ‘Buffy loves me, you fool. She’s always loved me. She loves you because of me.’ 

‘Don’t get me started,’ Angelus snarled as he watched Finn try to stay conscious. 

‘Oh, shut up, and get on with the torture.’ 

Angelus smirked, in accordance with his…other half, and did just that.  

“I’ve played with you for three days now,” Angelus said, all interest in drawing out Riley’s torture gone as he heard his slayer return home. 

‘Our slayer,’ Angel corrected with a smug grin as Angelus growled. 

“You’ve screamed for me,” Angelus told Finn over Angel’s words. “You’ve bled for me, and yet I still find myself wondering why. Why her, with all the girls that attended that college, why did you pick my slayer?” 

Placing the knife, a gift from Buffy, on the tray nearby, Angelus waited. Riley glared at the vampire, all the hatred he ever felt for Angel clearly there for Angelus to see. If only Riley knew that Angel was the least threat to him. 

‘Hey!’ Angel growled. Angel wanted Buffy’s happiness, unfortunately for the souled vampire, that soul wasn’t ever meant to experience the one thing all souls strive for – ultimate happiness. Angelus certainly wasn’t complaining, he was in charge after all, but that wasn’t the point. 

The point was that Angel was willing to see Buffy with Riley rather than see her miserable and alone. 

Angelus was not. 

So as he smiled at Riley, watching the emotions play across the soldier’s face, the hatred, the fear, the anger, Angelus laughed. He couldn’t help it; it was, after all, humorous. To him. And really, that was what was important here. 

“What, nothing to say? No wise-ass comebacks, nothing to comment on, no reply? Nothing about my woman?” Angelus said this last and his smile widened, growing feral as it did. “Oh, that’s right. You can’t.” 

The vampire had, after all, cut Riley’s tongue out when the boy dared mention Buffy. It was a small price, Angelus thought, Riley’s silence for the knowledge that the boy could never again speak the slayer’s name. 

“Well, it’s not really the screams that count,” Angelus told Riley, “It’s the fear in the blood.” 

With those final words, the vampire who, with or without a soul – or in this case both – loved the slayer sank his fangs into the human who once thought himself in love with that slayer. Foolish boy. Releasing his hold on Riley, Angelus let the body drop against the wall for disposal of later. 

He had a slayer to see.

Quickly washing his hands in the basement sink, an amenity purposely built into the lower level of their house, Angelus quickly checked the rest of his body for signs he’d been torturing his lover’s ex. Nothing obvious, so he made his way up the several flights of winding stairs to the main floor of the house. Mansion, it was definitely larger than the average definition of a ‘house.’ Three stories sprawled out over 3.5 acres of land, necrotempered glass covering large portions of the first level, and enough antiques to keep Sotheby’s happy well into the next millennium completed the dwelling. 

Angelus cared nothing for that.

Stalking across the marble foyer, ignoring the crystal chandelier from Ferdinand II, the original Queen Anne table, and the various paintings, naturally all originals, that lined the entryway, the vampire followed the scent of his lover. Buffy left for a few hours, claiming she needed to go shopping. The vampire didn’t care, as he climbed the grand staircase that led to the second floor, Angelus wasn’t at all worried that she’d leave him, more that he wouldn’t be with her should she need him. 

Buffy rarely acted the part of the slayer any more, unless something big was coming, relying more on Angelus’ reputation, as well as her own, to keep the local populace in line. It usually worked, but there was always those few who thought they could take the slayer, unseat the Scourge from his position of power, and rule instead. It never worked that way, and their tiny island off the coast of Greece remained theirs. 

She was already in their room, Angelus realized as he opened the door. No sooner than he did, his arms were filled with the blonde slayer. Her lips attacked his in a passionate frenzy, one that belied the bare two hours she was actually gone. Angelus, not one to complain, lifted her in his arms and met her passionate kiss. 

“Missed you,” Buffy said with a smile when she drew back. 

“Good,” her demon lover replied, and walked her backwards until they reached their bed. Lowering her to the soft mattress, Angelus followed the arch of her neck as his fingers unbuttoned her lightweight shirt. Disposing of her bra just as quickly, his cool lips traced one aureole, teasingly, before closing around the hardened nipple. 

Buffy arched into him, fingers convulsing on his shoulders as one hand moved to hold him closer, his name a gasp from her parted lips. His lips were demanding against hers, his hands possessing as they reclaimed her body. Unclasping her slacks and tugging them down her sleek body, Angelus followed the material down her toned thighs with his lips, nipping and biting the flesh there. 

Angelus took his time, savoring every taste of her flesh, every moan and cry from her lips, as he aroused her further. It was always like this between them, always explosive, instantaneous…perfect. Her hands, small and warm, glided over his cool chest, across shoulders, and down his back to press him further into her. Buffy’s legs locked around his lean hips, and she whimpered his name, the sound turning into a cry of need when Angelus finally entered her. 

Their pace was fast, but no less savoring of every nuance for that. Gasps of pleasure falling from their lips at every movement, every caress. Then they were moving even faster, harder, straining for that peak that would bring them the ultimate bliss. Crying out his name, Buffy clenched around her demonic lover, her orgasm crashing through her in wave after wave of ecstasy. Scant moments later, Angelus roared his release, her name echoing around the room before he collapsed atop his lover. 

Running a soothing hand through his hair and down his back, Buffy held him to her, savoring the weight of him. Eventually Angelus rolled over, cradling her in his arms as they drifted to sleep in front of the fireplace. 

“I love you,” Buffy said, and kissed his lips softly, holding him closer as if afraid he’d disappear from her embrace if she didn’t. 

It’d been less than a year since they left Sunnydale. More specifically, since Angelus carried her out of the cave where she fought – and defeated, with the help of Connor and Faith – the First Evil. Buffy didn’t remember leaving the cave, or leaving Sunnydale. When she regained consciousness two days later, they were already in New York City, waiting to board a ship to the Mediterranean. 

Torn, Buffy asked the only thing she could. Who survived? The rest of her friends, Angelus told her, her watcher, her sister, the rest of the AI team as well. Faith was in charge of everything now, and they were moving to LA, last he heard. They were, ironically enough, setting up shop there to take down the rest of Wolfram and Hart, and continue their little fight there. 

She hadn’t asked why he was still there, with her, nor why she still lived. Buffy knew the answers to both those questions. She was alive because of the Slayer power that flowed through her. Angelus was with her because there was nowhere else for either of them to be but together. 

Shifting under her, Angelus reached into the bed stand drawer, extracting several items. “Happy Birthday, love,” he said as he handed the packages to her, watching with a smile as her face lighted up. 

He wanted to give her the dead body of Riley Finn, wanted the insolent boy’s corpse to be her present, knowing that no one could ever come between them and now, there was one less person to try. Angelus knew his woman too well, however, knew that despite cutting back on her slaying, Buffy was still the slayer and would be until this world was destroyed, one way or another.  

Finn’s dead body wasn’t the way to ensure a happy birthday – or her continued presence in his life. Buffy wouldn’t understand the significance of the gift. 

Instead, he watched her face light up when she opened the first box, extracting the thin chain and locket. Watched her hesitate a moment before opening the locket to look at the pictures. Angelus could honestly say he hated her friends, hated anyone who stood between he and her, who berated her for her love of him. But he knew his slayer, and knew that the pictures in the locket would be treasured more than all the finest jewels he could ever shower her with. 

She, Willow, Xander, Faith, Oz, and Cordelia smiled back at her from one side. Angelus knew Buffy felt nothing but contempt for Cordelia, but the (annoying) brunette was a part of Buffy’s life in Sunnydale, during high school. Besides, it was one of only a handful of her pictures he’d found before leaving that forsaken city – why Dawn decided to take picture, and those of all ones, he didn't know. The other side held two pictures, one of Giles and another of Dawn and Joyce. 

“Thank you,” Buffy whispered, and leaned forward to kiss Angelus’ lips, a few tears escaping down her cheeks. 

Angelus simply smiled and waited as she opened the next package. Inside was a bracelet and matching necklace done in Alexandrite and diamonds. She smiled at him, her amusement obvious. Buffy knew how he loved giving her things such as these, but couldn’t help but love the locket he gave her. Willow and Xander were dead, true, but she’d always remember them. Now, there was a tangible reminder of them as well, one she could wear close to her heart. 

She’d heard once that the dead lived on so long as there was someone to remember them. Buffy didn’t plan on forgetting those who helped shape her life. She loved them all, too much to ever forget. 

In the third package Buffy ripped into, were two pairs of tickets. Looking puzzled at her lover, Buffy read them. “Milan!” She shouted, and launched herself into Angelus’ waiting arms. “We’re going to Milan?!” She pressed a smacking kiss to his laughing lips and added, “Oh, I love you!” 

“I know you do, baby, but there’s more,” he waited as she read the second tickets and watched her pout. 

“The ballet?” Buffy asked in disappointment. She was hoping for another grand city, like Prague or Paris, or London, yes, she’d love to see London. “We’re going to Milan to see the ballet?” 

“No, we’re going to Milan because you want to.” He said, and raked his large hands through her golden hair, bringing his lips to hers for a brief kiss. “But we’re going to the ballet because I want to.” 

Buffy looked at him, gave him one more kiss then shrugged out of his embrace to look at the tickets once more. Ah, well, maybe she could distract him before the performance and they’d miss it. Carefully placing all her gifts on the bedside table, Buffy snuggled back into Angelus’ arms, kissing him deeply as she did so. 

“Thank you, Angelus,” she whispered as she looked into his dark eyes. 

Smirking, his words belied his expression. “Anything for you, lover, you know that.”

And proceeded to show her just how much he did love her.

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