The battles had been won and lost. The fight had raged on
and on, piercing dimensions and time. Warriors had lived and died, prophecies
thwarted and seen fruition, and the masses had come to know the truth; or most
of it. In the end, though, the war had been won.
By the darkness.
The Slayer had fallen.
The greatest warrior for the side of light had fought long
and valiantly, defeating every evil known to man, and many that were not. She
had seen friends and family fall before her, old friends and new heroes. She had
known what her destiny was, known that she was a deciding factor in the outcome
and still she fought long past her last breath.
She had risen, again.
The ambush had been perfectly set up; the darkness had
thrown everything they had against her in one final clash, knowing that if she
fell then everything else would go their way. Believing that those who would
follow her would scatter to the four winds, leaving the battlefield free and
clear. Still she had fought on; stirring her armies into a frenzy they rallied
behind her, to their last breath, to their last man.
And even when she had fallen, another took her place. The
darkness had underestimated the significance of her family, of her influence and
legacy. Still, it had not been enough. They had won that battle, despite the
loss of their leader. They had won, never knowing that they had lost two leaders
that day.
The fabled vampire with a soul had fallen as well. They had
agreed, early in the war, that splitting their forces was the best way to
survive, to win. So he had taken half, spending one last night in the arms of
his lover, under a veil of sorcery so strong, none could break it.
He was half a world away when she fell.
His cry was heard throughout all the dimensions, all
realities, all planes. The darkness had indeed won; the attack was two pronged.
Knowing the strength of the connection between the two, knowing that should one
fall the other would avenge their death beyond time, a strategy was devised to
include both. Turn the slayer; rid the vampire of his soul.
Bring two magnificent warriors into their fold. A sure win.
Even the darkness could not have foretold the measure of hell they would bring
to earth.
~~~~~~~
Angelus looked around, disoriented. The remnants of his
army were too far away for him to really see what was happening. They looked to
be winning; the darkness was retreating. It was then everything came rushing
back to him.
The beginning of the End Days, he and Buffy agreeing to
hold this fight on two fronts, winning, losing, advancing, and finally, feeling
her die. That was when the pain had begun, though Angelus thought now that it
was probably unnecessary whatever magicks they had used on him to remove that
pesky soul. He was pretty damn near sure that soul and demon would have been in
complete agreement over the means to avenge his mate’s death.
He glanced one last time at the still battling armies,
colored sparks flying around them as magicks clashed, distant cries heard as
swords found their marks, and he turned in the opposite direction. He never
looked back. He had a new mission
now, a new goal; to find whoever had done this to his mate and rip them apart
limb from limb. Several times. Then the real fun would start.
Angelus was halfway across the field when it struck him.
The singing along his skin, deep within him was still humming. Buffy was still
alive. Which was impossible as he had literally felt her, and half of himself,
die. His face changed, showing the features of the vampire as he smiled.
She had been turned. New plan, then. Find her, kill whoever
her Sire was as punishment for taking away Angelus’ greatest pleasure, and
reaffirm their bond through whatever means necessary.
*************
Angel was with her and her greatest wish, her only wish, had finally, finally been fulfilled. She’d never let him go this time, no matter what happened.
Running across the expanse of nothingness that she knew could be recreated at
will, Buffy leapt into the waiting arms of her lover. Mouths fused, hands
gripped, bodies molded together. This is where they belonged and nothing was
ever taking that away from them again.
Not sparing even one last glance to the plane they had just
left, the souls of Angel and Buffy melted into the everything that was heaven.
They were together and after all they had suffered through that was the only
thing they cared about. The fate of the world no longer interested them, their
family and friends were left to fend for themselves, indeed, it was difficult to
picture those friends, as in heaven only happiness reigned.
Everyone and everything were on their own from now on. And
the two greatest heroes the world had ever known were finally at peace.
~~~~~~~
Buffy suffered a few moments of disorientation when she
finally awoke three days after she had fallen, chained to the wall in a deserted
dungeon. What the hell had happened? And why was she so damned hungry? In a
flash she remembered and growled in anger, tugging on her bonds. They had
surrounded her; there had literally been no escape. Still she had fought, her
sword a blur of light, taking out as many as dared crossed her path, until she
was sure that her family was safely away before their forces were too many and
she had become overwhelmed.
Smiling, running her teeth across her new fangs, Buffy
contemplated her life, now. Sure that loser soul had always thought that the
demon was her greatest fear. She had no idea what she was missing out on. Buffy
felt the power flow through her, new and old, augmenting her strength, and gave
one last yank on her chains as they broke free of the wall. Unclasping the
manacles she let those drop as well, before moving to the door and kicking it
open.
No guards; whomever had done this wasn’t very bright.
She was starving, that much was sure, yet her blood was
calling out to something or someone, she wasn’t sure whom. Or, for that
matter, what. But it was as a burning through her; a humming that was
suspiciously like her link with Angel, though vaguely different. Interesting,
wasn’t it. Did that mean he was close by?
No time for that now, though. She was hungry. Time to feed
on her first meal of the rest of her life. And she planned for it to be a long
and productive life.
The corridor was empty as well; she sensed more things
about that emptiness now, though. The whoosh of the air, the stench of the mold
and decay. The odor of a hundred thousand bodies from centuries of prisoners. As
the slayer she had often recognized more than the average human, had honed her
skills and powers until she was the perfect machine.
And all it had gotten her was heartbreak and pain. Death
and more death. Well, she was over that now. Now she was going to mete out the
punishments. Starting with whoever had turned her. The new vampire known as
Buffy had no desire to be bound to someone she didn’t even know.
Buffy found her sitting in an antechamber slowly sipping
from a golden, jewel encrusted goblet obviously, from the smell that permeated
the air, filled with blood. And just as obviously waiting for Buffy to awaken.
She didn’t seem too concerned about the possibility of a vampire slayer
vampire, as all the other woman – vampire – did when Buffy walked into the
room was look mildly interested in her presence.
The rest of the room was as deserted as the passageway
before yet had the trappings of a once grand place. The woman, looking to be in
her mid thirties, and dressed rather elegantly for her run down surroundings and
considering they were in the midst of a war, looked at her and Buffy knew: her
blood burned slightly, causing mild discomfort as Buffy moved closer to the
woman.
“So, I guess I have you to thank for this little
change?”
The other woman inclined her head, setting down her goblet
to move forward. “You have been bitten before.” It wasn’t a question,
though she expected an answer.
Buffy circled around the woman, never taking her eyes off
her as she answered. “That’s me, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The only Slayer
in history to have survived being bitten by her prey.”
“By whom?”
“Dracula.” Waited, knowing the absolute stupefaction
was coming. Buffy was not disappointed.
“Dracula? He
bit you and yet you still live?” The surprise was apparent in the other
vampiress’ voice. Evidently that wasn’t the answer she had expected. Dracula
had a habit of toying with his prey, true, but he wasn’t one to leave
survivors to tell the tales.
“Well, no. It was a thrall thing. Kind of complicated. My
fame got the best of me and it didn’t really work out for him in the end.
Angelus.”
Buffy grinned wickedly when the woman stopped dead in her
tracks. She had heard rumors, vague and some time ago, to do with a slayer and a
vampire. She had no idea, what with there being two slayers now, that it was
this slayer and the former ‘Scourge of Europe.’ “Angelus? He bit you?”
“Long story. Very complicated, it involves more
background than I think you’d understand. And by the time I finish telling
you, you’ll probably be nothing more than ashes in the wind.” Turning to the
side door, she called, “Right, lover?”
Angelus walked, actually, swaggered was a better term,
through the arch; his trademark smirk and leather pants firmly in place.
“Belinda. What an unpleasant surprise.”
Buffy moved towards her lover – former lover? –
watching the astonishment that seemed a permanent expression on Belinda’s
face. Noting, with satisfaction, that her blood burned all the hotter the closer
she moved to Angelus. Apparently the Sire/Childe bond couldn’t compete with
the mating bond.
“Angelus. What brings you so far from your battle?” Her
plan had just crumpled before her. It had been a simple one, really. Turn the
slayer, make her Belinda’s Childe, destroy the light once and for all, and
rule the world. She hadn’t planned on Angelus, on Buffy being strong enough to
ignore her obvious hunger pangs, on Buffy being able to control the Sire/Childe
bond, on any of this, really.
Poor planning on her part. She was, to use the vernacular,
quite screwed.
“Heard a rumor. Came to check it out.” He looked at
Buffy who was standing there, looking at him hunger and lust warring in her
beautiful hazel eyes, still several feet from him. In a blur of movement his arm
snaked out and wrapped around her waist. “Hello, lover. Miss me?” And vamped
out, crushing his lips to hers.
Buffy answered with a growl of her own, sinking her fangs
into his lip, relishing her first taste of blood since awakening. She was
famished and planned a feast once she was done killing her Sire. Loyalty was a
thing of the past.
They broke apart, and Angelus sensed her need for blood,
her craving, her thirst, and rejoiced in what she had become. Bringing up his
other hand, he cupped her face and tenderly whispered just loud enough for her
to hear, “Just a little while longer, baby. Then we’ll celebrate.”
No one knew of her success in turning the slayer, how on
earth could Angelus? The mark, of course. It must have created a link of some
kind between the two. Which was extremely rare, almost unheard of. It was a
shame that she would never know the complete truth of the situation.
Releasing her, Angelus turned back to Belinda. If she had
been remotely functioning the other vampire would have attempted to flee while
the lovers were otherwise engaged. But she had been too fascinated to do
anything other than watch.
It was to be her final mistake.
And the cause of her prolonged death.
“Belinda,” Angelus shook his head in sorrow though his
eyes took on a harden glint. “You took what was mine. You dared touch my mate,
tasted her blood, things only I am allowed.”
Fleetingly Belinda thought of rubbing his face in the fact
that Dracula also drank from Buffy, but quickly decided that saying anything
would only increase her agony. She was all for pain, but only when pleasure,
most decidedly hers, was involved. And, too, saying so would only make her look
weak for bringing it up, something she never wanted to appear. She began backing
away from the advancing couple.
“No one is allowed to touch
her, and you did worse than that. Tell me, Belinda, how many of your army did
you lose? Half? More?” He stopped several feet away from her and his smile was
cold and hard and just plain mean. “Unimportant, really, but I’m sure she
cost you more than you were willing to expend. Shame, as you should have known
that she was already taken. NO ONE TOUCHES MY MATE!”
They leapt as one, each taking a side before dragging her
down the corridor into the room where Buffy had awoken. More chains lined the
small dungeon and they used the extras to pin her to the wall. Angelus chanted a
short spell over her bindings before turning back to his lover.
“What did you say?”
“Just something to keep her here until we return.”
Then, pulling her towards him again, asked, “Ready for a fresh meal,
darling?”
Belinda’s screams for release were never heard.
**********
Angelus had brought her the girl’s friend, knowing
intimately the hunger that pounded through a newly risen vampire. And knowing
that Buffy’s need would be stronger as she was stronger.
“A gift for me?” Buffy had asked, as the girl’s
whimpers for freedom were ignored though the scent of fear was savored.
“Of course, darling. I want you strong, I have big plans
for the world and I want you there.”
She smiled around a mouth full of fangs, “How sweet.”
And bit down, trying not to spill a drop.
Angelus watched in fascination as Buffy drank. She was
magnificent, his mate. Glorious as she fed, her vampiric features arousing him
as much as her human ones ever had. Once her initial hunger was sated with these
too easily caught meals, he’d take her hunting. She was the perfect predator,
stealthy and smooth, fast and elemental. He doubted that he’d have to teach
her much, though he was hoping for a few lessons; he wanted enjoyment out of
this night as well.
First things first, though, slate that initial hunger. Fuck
her for a few hours and then kill Belinda – he couldn’t wait to see what his
mate had in mind for her erstwhile sire. Afterwards, there was the little matter
of her punishment. She had, after all, been the cause of his time in hell and
the reason he had been saddled with that damn soul again. Not to mention that
Parker lad and Riley. Oh, yes, let’s not forget that dear old
I-love-him-and-I-trust-him lie about Riley.
Then again, she was also the reason he no longer had said
soul. Well, punishments must be allotted; there really was no way around it.
As they strolled through the streets, arm in arm, Buffy
thought back to what he said when he had first walked into the underground room.
“How did you know I had been turned?”
“Simple, darling, I felt you. The bond we shared when you
were human and I was all full of soulful goodness transferred itself to our
current states.” He stopped, pulling her into his arms and crushed his lips to
hers. “I felt you die. Not the most pleasant thing I’ve ever gone though,
that feeling; my own death was bad enough, but this was somehow worse. The next
thing I knew I was back, planning revenge on those who had taken you away from
me. If anyone was going to kill you, it was going to be me.”
“You always say the nicest things, Angelus.” She shook
her head at his words, and pulled his lips back to hers.
They hunted for most of the night in and around what was
formerly known as Sunnydale, quenching their hunger, hunting humans together as
they once did vampires. Not much was left of the town that sat atop the
Hellmouth. Too many demons with dreams of grandeur had tried to open it and had
all but destroyed the small suburban town. Still, humans had their delusions and
continued to live there. Almost anyplace else would have been safer. Except
maybe the Vatican.
An hour before dawn Angelus and Buffy returned to the
underground fortress Belinda had made her own. Her hunger sated for the time
being they had other things on their minds. Namely, each other.
“So I’m thinking,” she said, trailing a hand down his
ass, squeezing a firm globe, as they made their way around the citadel looking
for Belinda’s minions as well as scouting the place out. “We have all this
time and an entire world; what are we going to do with it?”
Angelus opened yet another door and spotted a bed; it
wasn’t the grandest of furnishings, but lacked the mustiness the rest of the
empty place carried. It would have to do for the time being. Later they’d work
on securing better accommodations. What could he say; he was a snob.
Spinning her to face him and slamming her against the wall,
he crushed his lips to hers, hungrily devouring her mouth. Exploring every
hidden crevice, relishing every taste and texture. The familiar taste of Buffy,
yet different, cooler, not as spicy now that she was a vampire, yet a thousand
ways better.
Releasing her mouth, he answered, “I was thinking first
we’d get reacquainted.” And moved his mouth to her neck where his mark still
lay.
Buffy gripped his shoulders, grinding her pelvis into his
obvious erection. “I love the way you think, baby.”
They attacked each other, ripping clothing, tearing skin.
Nails scraped down his back, drawing blood, the scent spurring them both on.
Hands grasped hips, forming bruises. Arousal was ripe in the air and Angelus
wasted not one second before thrusting deep into Buffy, pushing her against the
wall, scraping her back as he did so. She cried out in pleasure; from him, from
the pain, growling her need as she morphed into her game face and attacked his
neck.
Cold flesh rubbed cold flesh causing unbearable friction.
Angelus wasn’t used to her feeling this way, but it was delightful. His
fondest fantasy, his greatest dream, was turning her and he was highly
disappointed that he was not the one to do so. Not the one to end her glorious
heat as he emptied himself into her welcoming body one last time and drained her
dry.
Still, the end result was the same. She was his. No two
ways about it.
Her arms and legs locked around him holding him tightly to
her as she met him thrust for thrust. Yellow eyes met yellow eyes and it was
instinct, pure and simple, that drove Buffy to sink her fangs into Angelus’
neck. Her orgasm flooded through her at the taste of his powerful blood and she
snarled with need when his fangs submerged into the exact spot his mark still
stood.
They fell backwards, still drinking from each other, still
joined as Angelus emptied his cold seed into her. The feel of stone against his
naked back never registered, only the feel of her cool, wet inner most walls
clutching around him as she rode out her orgasm and milked his for all he was
worth, the taste of her still charmed blood flowing through him.
Eventually they stopped, collapsing in a heap of tangled
limps, satisfied for the moment. Buffy laid her head against her lover’s
chest, gasping for much unneeded breathe. “I’d forgotten how good it could
be, lover.” She looked up, flinging her long hair over her shoulder as she did
so. “What else have you planned?”
Buffy knew, without a doubt, that he could teach her things
she had only ever dreamed of. That her experience in the world of sexual
encounters paled in comparison with his. And that she’d never want another
lover as long as she lived (or was it existed?) then again, she never really
had, even as a human.
Smiling, returning to his human guise, Angelus felt himself
hardening within her just by looking at her and stood. Carrying her over to the
bed, he lay her down and caressed her face, still bearing the image of the
vampire. “Oh, lots. There’s much for you to learn. But first things
first.”
He began to move within her, flicking long fingers over her
sensitive breasts, scraping down ribs and belly, to her clit. His thrusts came
faster as Buffy held on tightly to his shoulders, wrapping her legs about him to
bring him deeper. And just as she was about to fall off the precipice of their
pleasure, he sank his fangs into her neck, making her climax that much better,
emptying himself into her over and over again.
Lapping the last drops of blood, he said smugly, “I think
we have a sire to take care of, first. Don’t you?”
********
Now, chained to the wall in her own dungeon, she had seen
the error of her ways. Everything was clear to her now. She had failed, but more
importantly, she had failed in that her research wasn’t complete. With no one
to blame but herself, she was almost resigned to what was surely going to be a
horrific fate before her final death.
But she wasn’t going alone. Wolfram & Hart were going
with her if she had to find them herself from whatever afterlife vampires had.
And therein lie her frustration: she had relayed on others to help when she knew
damn well that the only way to do something right was to do it herself. Again,
her own fault, but something, at least, that she could rectify.
Sure enough, her soon to be murders walked into the cell;
smelling like each other, dressed in different clothes from earlier – where
did they get those? – and looking very satisfied with the past several hours.
Blood and sex, the surest ways to cement a bond and the cornerstone of vampire
mating rituals. If she held out any hope for a quick and relatively painless
death, Belinda now knew it was utterly pointless.
She was going to be tortured in every way Angelus could
think of – his prowess in that area was legendary – and Belinda was positive
Buffy was no slouch in that department either. She was the longest lasting
Slayer, surviving at least two deaths – three if one counted this latest and
her turning – and came within striking distance of winning the end battles.
Together they were going to rule the world, she was sure of
it. Her only regret was that she wouldn’t be around to witness it. It was sure
to be a celebrated era and something that she could have proudly said she had
had a part in. But she was to see none of it. Damn shame, that.
“So, ‘Mommy,’” Buffy shook her head as she looked
over the cart Angelus had wheeled in behind them. “You didn’t really think
that you could turn the greatest Slayer in history and live to tell the tale,
did you?”
Angelus laughed at the expression on Belinda’s face.
“She did! Look at that. Belinda, Belinda, Belinda, you should know better. This slayer is mine, and only I have the right to turn
her. I’m very disappointed in you; I know Nest taught you better than that.
Where did you go wrong?”
Before she could answer, Buffy asked, “Nest?”
“The Master, baby. The one you killed way back in the
day? He was her sire.” Angelus couldn’t contain his laughter and it rang
around the small enclosure. God, but it was good to be back!
Belinda sighed, “Of course, why would I even think
otherwise? Let me guess; Buffy may have killed him, but you helped, couldn’t
resist not doing so. You never did care for him, Angelus. Word of his death
spread, but the details were sketchy, I guess in his final years he surrounded
himself with idiots. Doesn’t surprise me. Whatever happened to dear old
Darla?”
“Oh, Darla killed her, twice, actually. Well,” he
amended with a glance to see how Buffy was doing with their toys, “Actually
the first time it was me, staked her though the back.”
“Naturally. Always knew you’d tire of her; you two
weren’t exactly made for each other. And the second?” It was a morbid
fascination, but as she was going to die anyway, she might as well know the
whole story. Plus, so far as she knew, vampires only died once.
“Oh, that was her.” He turned, accepted one of the
knives dipped in holy water from Buffy, and advanced. “Killed herself to
protect my son.”
“Why do I even bother with hired help? I swear they tell
you nothing.” Calmly eyeing the advancing couple, she added, “Wolfram &
Hart. I presume you know of them.” It wasn’t a question. “They helped me,
well, helped may be the wrong word; too strong for the situation. Approached is
more like it, we came to a mutually satisfactory agreement, they found some
scrolls and such, spells, whatever I needed. Conveniently neglected to inform me
of…well, much of anything, really. The obvious and complete connection between
you two, your son, however that
occurred, yes, pretty much everything.”
Buffy stopped near her sire, idly tracing a path across the
other’s cheek with her blade, carving her and Angelus’ initials. “Why tell
us this? Do you think it’ll buy you some measure of mercy?”
Snorting in laughter, though her cheek burned like hell,
Belinda said, “Hardly, no. You’re going to do whatever you wish to do to me
anyway; there’s no changing that. No, I’m telling you, Childe, because I
detest being played the fool. Wolfram & Hart did so, therefore, my last act
in this hell will be revenge upon them.”
“Get us to do your dirty work, Belinda?” Angelus went
to work on her other cheek, carving a small replica of a claddagh there, while
watching Buffy move slowly down the neck. The cuts weren’t deep, but the holy
water added a strong dose of pain and prevented them from healing immediately.
“Again, no. It’s obvious, now that I do have all the
facts,” Her voice held a trace of bitterness at finding everything out after
the fact. “That you’re going to want to get back at those who did this. At
the people who prevented you, Angelus, from your greatest prize. Just want to
help. See what happens when you rely on humans, no matter the state of their
respective souls, to provide any measure of assistance?”
Buffy had moved lower, tearing Belinda’s clothing as she
went. The flat of the knife, freshly re-dipped in holy water, circled her
nipple, hardening it to a burning point before widening the area to the entire
areola, once, twice, before cutting it out completely. Belinda screamed, but
still didn’t beg for mercy. Excellent, the longer she lasted, the better.
“Good. That means we won’t have to torture it out of
you, this can be purely for fun.”
And that was when the serious festivities began.
~~~~~~~
Hot pokers, wood laced whips, more holy water, an
assortment of knives and other sharp objects, several broken bones, fingers
smashed beyond recognition, and an interesting use of fire later, Belinda had
finally started to beg for mercy. No quarter, however was given and she was left
to hang there, barely alive, while Angelus and Buffy went out to hunt for their
dinner.
“You know,” Buffy said after digesting a particularly
intoxicating array of emotionally laced blood from a middle-aged man, “I think
I need to kill Cordelia.”
“Oh, why?” Angelus asked, not particularly concerned,
and leaned forward to lick the corner of her mouth where a drop of blood lay,
before moving to nibble on her lips.
“Simple, really; she slept with you. You had sex with a
former friend of mine and now I have to kill her. Think she figured out that
you’re back?” Buffy opened her mouth to his probing tongue, tasting his meal
– the middle aged man’s wife – there as well as remnants of herself.
She’d have to look more closely into the sharing of blood
they had done earlier. She had to figure that with the amount of blood they took
from each other that whatever Belinda’s initial connection to Buffy, it was
now completely severed. Plus, she felt Angelus more closely now. Whereas before
she always knew that he was there and generally where he was, now she felt as
though she knew his very movements. It was fascinating. Maybe Giles would know
what was going on. Hmm, Giles…
Angelus growled, “Does this mean I get to kill what’s
his name, Parker and soldier boy Riley?” He looked around, decided it was too
public a place for her punishment – one person was one too many to look upon
her – and started back towards their new temporary home.
“Parker? Excellent. I’m not really sure where he is, or
if he’s even still alive, but can I watch? Better yet, can I help? He did,
after all, use me then discard me.” She still had negative feelings concerning
that whole experience. However, it was Angelus – well, Angel’s – fault
that she had slept with the boy in the first place. Revenge, though, seemed
perfect.
~~~~~~~~
The moment they walked through the door to the underground
mansion, Angelus whacked her across the room, knocking her into the stone wall.
He congratulated himself on maintaining control this long before releasing his
anger at her for showing what was his and his alone to other men. No one was
allowed to look at her, much less touch her, but him.
Toeing off his shoes and socks he began slowly stripping as
he advanced on her, noting with satisfaction that she was bleeding slightly from
the nose and righted herself using the wall. Her eyes held pure anger, and she
growled low in her throat. She was brilliant in her anger, and her eyes flashed
gold right before she literally pounced on him, knocking them both over.
Tearing the clothes off her as they exchanged blows,
Angelus sniffed appreciatively; her arousal permeated the air around them. He
felt himself thicken even more at this, aroused at the thought of their pleasure
sprinkled with pain.
He knew, intellectually, that he’d have to introduce
Buffy somewhat slowly to the concept of sex and pain, but this experience was
proving that untrue. Impaling her with one hard thrust, he wrapped one of his
big hands around her smaller wrists, pinning her to the cold, hard floor, and
used the other to roughly fondle her breast.
“Looking for some rough sex, Angelus?” She glared up at
him, but her desire was clear in her eyes. She must have known that for her
smile was almost feline in nature. Sure, she had been caught off guard, but that
didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy herself.
He backhanded her with the hand not holding her prisoner,
even as he began moving entirely too slowly within her. He hit her again,
licking the small amount of blood that formed in the corner of her mouth he
ground out, “What were you thinking, Buff? Did you honestly think that a human
lover would satisfy you?”
Buffy growled, annoyed at being caught unaware a second
time. “You’re going to punish me for something I did in another life?
Really, baby, I’d think you of all people would understand the whole soul/lack
of soul concept. What can I say? I was having a bad year. And it was all your
fault.”
Laughing, he continued to move, shifting his position to
accommodate her height and increase her pleasure as well as his own. “Not me,
baby, just remember that. Then there’s the fact that you had that witch
re-soul me. And sent me to hell with that damn soul; I couldn’t even enjoy
myself there.”
Buffy wrapped her legs around his lean waist, bringing him
deeper with each thrust, her back scraping the cold stone floor. “Your own
fault, you were stalking me, what was I supposed to do? I had no idea what you
could really be like; if I had…” Her meaning was clear as she rotated her
hips against his. “So you’re going to punish me?”
Nodding, he thrust into her again. “Of course. Can’t
have you thinking you can get away with things like that. You’re mine, no one
else sees you, touches you. I’ll make it painful on them…but so much worse
on you, understand, Buff?”
“The name is
Buffy, lover.” She grinned, “So, punishment, good.” And scrapped her
elongated teeth over his chest, drawing a thin line of blood. “Turn about is
fair play, you know. There was Darla and Cordelia. And the fact that you left me; why do you think I turned to anyone else in the first
place? And that whole I turned back an
entire day where I was human not even bothering to tell me incident.”
Gasping as she ran her tongue over the blood, Angelus
chuckled again. “Yeah, well, Darla and I had a past together. Besides, I
wasn’t having too good of a year myself. As for leaving, again, not me;
Soul-boy wasn’t too smart. I’d never leave you like that; you belong to me.
Now the human thing, that was somewhat different. I’d have done the same.”
Then he amended, “Maybe; you were in danger and as a pansy human I couldn’t
protect you. Just hinder, couldn’t have that. If anyone was going to kill you
it was going to be me, not some ninja demon looking to end the world.”
“You didn’t, missed out on that little pleasure.” She
taunted, arching up again, moaning in frustration when he stopped his movements
altogether instead of increasing them as she’d hoped.
“Yes, a mistake I shall soon remedy. After your punishment.”
Sinking her teeth into his chest and pulling a small
mouthful of blood from him, Buffy arched against him, her body begging his to
move. “So punish me, Angelus. What are you waiting for?”
He had always known that Buffy was a passionate woman.
Their first night together and that one day as a human, not to mention their
final coupling, had taught him as much; her desire easily matched his. No one in
all his years had been able to do so, not even Darla. Depraved though she was,
his sire quickly bored him. Now, sans soul, Angelus would bet that Buffy’s
tastes in pleasure would match his as well. And he intended to teach her as
much.
But first, he wanted her now, no waiting. He had gone too
long without her as it was.
Rolling over, he released his grip on Buffy’s wrists,
placing his hands on her hips instead. Lips attached themselves to her nipple,
elongated teeth scrapping over the pointed peak before moving to the other. She
moved on him, taking him faster and deeper with every movement, her hands
clawing into his chest.
Suddenly he reared up, bending her almost backwards as he
felt his climax coming. Again he sank his fangs into her neck, and again she
screamed his name in release even as her own teeth found his neck. Drawing
deeply from each other, their pleasure spiraled out of control, in a never
ending wash of color and ecstasy.
***********
They lay on the bed, entwined around each other, wounds
closing quickly on each of them, completely sated and contented for the moment.
Turning in his arms, she moved so she lay half on top of him and asked the
question that had plagued her for years. “So this vampire thing. How does it
work?”
Smirking, he said, “You mean besides the obvious?”
Tapping her now retracted fangs.
“Don’t be a smart ass. Yeah, the sire, childe, lover,
thing.”
“Mates, darling. I marked you.” He ran the tip of a
finger over the raised tissue still adorning her neck, eliciting a shiver of
need in response. “Usually the sire has control over his or her childe – for
a time at least. Teaching the fledging to hunt, what’s dangerous such as the
slayer and the more pleasurable things about eternal life. That sort of
thing.”
“Slayer, huh? Speaking of, how’s Faith doing these
days?” Her tone clearly said that should Buffy ever see her again, the other
Slayer’s death would be drawn out and excruciating.
“I sent her over to your team, carrying the last set of
dispatches. Never made it, huh?” At her negative head shake, Angels shrugged,
moving a hand down her bloody but now healing back, over hip and thigh, to
lightly tease her swollen core. “Too bad. I’d bet she’d be a screamer.”
Buffy growled. “I sincerely hope you meant when we
tortured her. Slowly…and… painfully.”
He rolled them over unmindful of the blood on the sheets,
entering her – she was always ready for him, no matter the place, no matter
how soon after their last bout of sex, her body was always ready to acclimate
his. It made him that much harder knowing this.
“Naturally, my love. Now, where was I? Ah, yes, mates,
the joining of two vampires for as long as they shall live. That’s stronger,
kind of like a human marriage, only more permanent. In a literal ‘till
death’ kind of way. There are no vampire divorces.”
Angelus moved his mouth across her shoulders, scrapping
downwards, leaving thin trails of blood in his wake. Gently he sank his teeth
into her breast, nursing like a baby. “Then again, in the human world we were
already married. But soul boy never did tell you about that.”
On a gasp Buffy nodded. “The Claddagh ring. Yeah, he,
you, whatever never said anything, but after all the research I’ve done I’m
good at finding things like that. So,” she asked, digging her claws into his
tender bottom, eliciting a roar of satisfaction when he plunged deeper into her
waiting coolness, “You think that carries over to our new and improved no
souled selves?”
“It could,” He moved out of her, ignoring her whimper
of need and flipped her over again. As she grabbed the iron bars of the
headboard, Angelus continued, “It’s different in the vampire world. True
mates are extremely rare; no one really wants that kind of commitment, it’s
unbreakable. There are things like consorts, where it’s a temporary alliance.
Then there’s a Master and his companion, which is kind of like a consort, but
more submissive. Consorts are almost equal, at least while the alliance is in
effect. Vampires aren’t known for their loyalty, my love.”
He was moving faster and harder within her, shaking the bed
and crashing the headboard against the stone wall. Buffy flattened her hands
against the bars and pushed her hips backward in an attempt to bring him deeper
within her, all the way within her, meeting him thrust for thrust.
Her cries and snarls reverberated around the mostly empty
room, crashing back on them. In a sign of trust, need, and, for the moment,
submission, she bared her neck to him, feeling her release flash through her at
the first penetration of his teeth.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was a good thing she was already dead, for Buffy
couldn’t move. Breathing, since it wasn’t necessary, was totally out of the
question, anyway. No the numbness in her limbs was something else entirely;
totally numbing sex – it was delicious. Maybe if she gave it a minute
something would move again of its own accord.
Angelus purred in absolute satisfaction shifted to his
side, pulling Buffy with him. Ah, there they were, her arms seemed to be good as
new. Opening her eyes she looked into the beautiful ones of her lover. Love may
have been a ‘soul’ thing to most humans, but she knew differently. What she
felt for Angelus and what he felt for her…that was something no one could ever
touch.
And she’d kill the first being to try.
In a sudden possessive move, she moved her now functioning
hands and fiercely gripped his face. “You are mine, lover. Whatever the
vampire equivalent is, I’m never letting you go. And if you so much as look
funny at another woman – human, vampire, demon, or otherwise – you’ll wish
I had just staked you.”
Angelus raised an eyebrow, trademark smirk firmly in place.
“What makes you think you’re the master here, fledgling?” But, since he
pretty much felt the same way about her, he pinned her under him, trapping her
hands with his. His obsession with her was never-ending, while she had been
human, when he had been re-encased inside the soul, always. And he was very
jealous about his possessions, most especially her. “And you, my love, are
mine. Totally, absolutely and forever. Don’t ever forget that.”
Satisfied, Buffy nodded, kissing him deeply. “Good. As
long as we’re agreed then.”
Reluctantly moving off her, Angelus went to find their
clothes. They’d have to get more if they continued to rip the material off
each other, and none of this cotton crap, either. Silks and satins, leather,
they were the way to go. “Now let’s go take care of your Sire, shall we?”
~~~~~~~~~
Belinda was hallucinating. Actually, she had no idea if
vampires could even hallucinate, but the visions before her could only be called
that. Every human she had ever drank, every being she had ever tortured,
mutilated, turned or harmed in any way, shape, or form, stood in front of her,
mocking her for her weakness.
The crowd was unending, she had done a lot of damage in her
two-hundred years. But they all said the same things; she was stupid, she was
weak, she didn’t know how to keep control. She had no idea what she was doing
and was nothing but a worthless loser, a whore like her mother.
Her father stood before her, taunting the loudest,
reminding her what a worthless child she had been, what a disappointment, how
she was just like her mother and never appreciated anything he had done for her.
He morphed into her Sire, Nest laughing at her weakness and telling her how he
wished he had never turned her.
She tried to yell back, disagree, defend herself, but she
couldn’t. Her voice was gone, hoarse from hours of screaming. Her hands
chained above her head leaving her to stand on her toes for any semblance of
balance. She was woozy from loss of blood and lack of nourishment.
And her captures had just returned.
“Ah, Belinda, I see you’re awake. I thought for a
moment that you had faded out on us. Can’t have that, can we? Darling, you
were right, she’s still alive. Well, barely. Still, a bargain is a bargain; do
what you will.” Angelus walked over to the chair he had brought in with him
and settled himself comfortably on it, preparing to enjoy the show.
He was not disappointed. Buffy removed something on a
silver chain from her pocket, dangling it in front of Belinda. Angelus smiled
when he saw what it was. The silver cross he (Angel) had given her on their
first meeting. And he had a feeling he knew what she was going to do with it,
too.
Sure enough, she opened Belinda’s mouth and dropped the
cross inside, still holding the chain as she held her sire’s mouth closed.
“You never should have tried to get the best of me, Belinda. In the end I
always win. Always.” Smoke was emanating from her mouth, the burning of flesh,
bone and gum, but the other vampiress could say nothing more, she was in too
much pain, was too weak.
“Ahh, don’t like that too much? Really, what did you
expect from the Slayer?” She shook her head, bored. “You now, baby, this
just isn’t any fun anymore. She can’t scream, can’t really do more than
whimper. I seriously doubt she even knows we’re here.”
Buffy turned her back on her chained sire, re-pocketing the
necklace – it held sentimental value after all – and made her way to her
lover, slowly running her hands over her body as her eyes locked with his.
“Let’s get out of here.”
Hypnotized, Angelus watched as Buffy played with her
nipples through the soft material of her shirt and moved lower, dipping beneath
the waistband of her pants. Her words barely registered before he leapt up,
knocking her to the ground, his mouth on hers, his hands delving beneath the
material of her pants to find her cool moistness. Pushing the material hastily
out of his way, Angelus attacked her skin with hands and fangs and tongue.
Addiction.
It was the only word to describe his feelings towards
Buffy. He was addicted to her taste, her touch, her scent. Her blood, though now
they shared that, too. She aroused him like no other, blocking out every other
partner he had ever had over the centuries. Making him crave only her, the
release of orgasm he felt only with her, the sheer contentment he felt only with
her.
As she writhed beneath him, shouting her pleasure,
demanding more, Angelus smiled. Yes, she truly was meant for him, in any
incarnation.
“Yes, Angelus please more.”
Angelus loved it when she begged, it was true, he preferred
to be the dominant partner in his relationships, but this…this was entirely
new. Buffy had a way of making him desire the submissive role as much as he did
the dominant. When she took over their coupling, riding him hard and fast,
refusing to let him set the pace, and punishing him when he tried to take over,
it was as exquisite as when he pounded into her from behind, holding her still
by her neck like a rutting animal.
He couldn’t wait to chain her to their bed and have his
way with her, couldn’t wait to see what she did to him once they left this
place. But first, he needed his release, needed to thrust into her wet welcoming
body as his world coalesced into a pinpoint that was only Buffy.
She growled her pleasure as his hands harshly molded her
breasts, nails scraped down her belly, fingers gripped her hips to hold her
tightly. She had known love before her change and that carried over into her new
life; had known what it was to make love with the only person she had ever
wanted in this or any other life. And he was with her again.
His fangs sank into the soft tissue of her throat over the
mark he had given her so long ago. And as her teeth pricked his neck and she
greedily drank down their combined blood, Buffy knew. It was said that demons
couldn’t love. That without a soul nothing could experience the ecstasy that
was true affection. Whoever had said that was wrong.
Love was something that just was…no matter the state the
respective souls found themselves in, no matter the impossibility of the mating.
Love just was. And it was between Angelus and Buffy.
They lay together for a long moment, savoring the thrill of
climax, the stimulation of their combined blood. Gradually Angelus pulled out of
her, sitting back on his heels and pulled Buffy into his arms. She went
willingly and he purred his pleasure.
No, he thought as they stood, leaving her erstwhile sire
limply hanging there to die a slow painful death of starvation and blood loss.
He may not want to ever admit it aloud, but in his own cruel way the obsessive,
possessive feelings running through him for his mate were very close to love.
She was, after all, his and his alone. A possession, maybe, but one treasured
above all others. And one he was never going to part with. Eternity was looking
brighter by the moment.
“Want to go visit some old friends?”
**********
Which would have worked, too, if Buffy had indeed remained
dead.
Sunnydale was, after all, the ultimate place to wield that
evil and Giles didn’t want to leave the Hellmouth unprotected. Willow and
Spike, along with a few other key good-guy demons were meeting in the never
really safe ruins of the old Sunnydale High School library. Or principal’s
office, depending on which high school one had attended. It held sentimental
meaning and was hoped that the malevolent energy emanating from it would
disguise the presence of the light.
It also wasn’t a difficult decision, which friend to
capture first. There were only a few left, but Buffy was having trouble deciding
what to do about Dawn. So her sister was left alone for the moment and Xander
was taken. He was the easiest to capture and the most fun to torture. Angelus
had some interesting ideas for his death and couldn’t wait to implement them.
Angelus and Buffy had moved into an opulent mansion on the
outskirts of LA, preferring the luxuries with which the now deceased owner had
furnished his home. The basement, once a vast wine cellar, was converted into a
meticulously outfitted torture chamber. Angelus was as thrilled as he could
possibly be.
So many new toys with which to play, so few people on which
to experiment.
Xander was captured during his shift on guard duty. It
wasn’t as easy as it once would have been, but it still wasn’t that hard for
two who knew him so well. No ransom note was left, no faction boasted of his
death, there was a small sign of struggle, but as nothing else was taken or
attacked, the only logical conclusion was that Xander had been taken to weaken
their leadership forces.
Buffy laughed aloud when she heard that particular rumor.
“Imagine,” She had said while still chuckling over that and waiting for her
friend to awaken, “Xander, a leader. Willow, yes, Giles, most certainly, but
Xander? Not likely.”
Angelus walked up behind her, wrapping his arms around her
slender body. As he, too watched the unconscious boy who once held grand
delusions on his mate, he began to caress Buffy’s nipples, bringing them to
harden peaks in a matter of moments. “Obviously their ranks are thin if they
need to rely on his help.”
Moving his hand lower, he stroked her through the tight
material of her leather pants. It had been four weeks since her transformation
and subsequent rising, and three days since their arrival in their new home. In
that time the only reason they had for leaving each other’s arms was to
replace their miserable clothing supply and to hunt.
They had decided on personal revenge before moving onto
Wolfram & Hart – which was strictly professional revenge – and ruling
the world. So much more satisfying that way.
“Babe, I don’t think he’s waking any time soon.” He
pressed harder against her clit, smiling as her head fell back against his
chest, her ass moving against his erection, her purr of satisfaction ending on a
gasp as he pinched it through the material. Not an easy feat, but he somehow
managed it anyway.
Spinning in his arms, Buffy jumped up, locking her legs around his waist, grinding her pelvis into his erection, growling in her need for completion. “I think you’re right; let’s leave him be for a bit. I need you, baby right now.”
And lowered her lips to his, devouring his mouth, running her tongue along his
elongated teeth allowing the drops of blood to flow down his throat. He carried
her out of the cellar and through the vast – and now empty - rooms, all the
while holding her close and teasing her through her clothing.
At the bottom of the stairs her shirt, a red silk tank, was
thrown over the newel post. Suckling her breasts, Angelus continued his climb
towards the top.
Halfway up the twenty-six steps, Buffy tore open his black
silk shirt, sending buttons clattering against the hardwood floor. All the while
running her palms over his cool marble shoulders and muscles, flicking fingers
over his nipples and nails down his chest until he, too, growled in pleasure.
They never made it to the bedroom and the whip and chains
Angelus had planned for her.
Banging her against the wall, he unwrapped her slim legs
from his waist, standing her upright. “Stay still, baby. No moving.” He
ordered, before he moved his clever hands to the fastening on her pants, slowly
pushing them over hips and thigh following the trail of newly exposed skin with
his mouth.
Unzipping her boots, he removed first one then the other
before urging her to step out of the pants. Gently caressing the arch of her
foot, her strong calves, the backs of her knees, the tops of her thighs, and the
curve of hip and buttock. Never touching where she most needed him.
Whimpering for his touch, his possession of her, Buffy
fought to remain still, knowing the penalty for disobeying his command, no
matter how softly spoken, would be to deny her completion of her orgasm, not
just this night, but for as many nights as it pleased him. He had done it once,
several days after they had tired of Belinda. It was, according to him, a way to
show her that he was in charge.
It hadn’t worked, they were too evenly matched for
something like that, but Buffy learned to listen to him when he spoke that way.
Her nails stretched into claws as she gripped the smooth
wall holding her upright. “Please, Angelus…”
Lips and tongue as cool as her own skin traced imaginary
paths across her body, from her soft full lips to her straining breasts and
quivering knees. Sucking here and there, never drawing blood, never touching her
inner core, driving her mad with need for him, always him. Slowly he looked up
from his kneeling position in front of her.
She was struggling to stay upright like he had ordered her,
to not move. To fight the need to take him into her welcoming body, impaling
herself on his throbbing erection. Angelus smiled, pleased with her obedience,
knowing how hard it was for her to do as ordered despite the consequences. While
he would have thoroughly enjoyed teaching her another lesson in submission, he
much preferred her willing compliance to him. Made things so much more
enjoyable.
“Please what, darling?” He asked, swirling his tongue
around her belly button.
The papered wall was shredding under her nails and her
vision blurry from want and need. “Please take me. Fuck me. Here, against this
wall, until I can’t stand, until I can’t move.”
Yes, it was true that Angelus enjoyed dominating Buffy, but
it was so sweet her willing surrender. Not giving her a chance to react, Angelus
suddenly moved his head, tongue finding her opening, lashing around the outside
before plunging in, eliciting a harsh cry from her lips.
Too soon he removed his tongue, instead closing blunt teeth over the
engorged nub of her desire, sucking on it, playing it with his tongue.
“Don’t do it, Buffy, not yet.” It was a warning
growl. He could feel how close she was to climax, but didn’t want her to come
just yet. Testing the bounds of her compliance.
Pulling on all the meditation techniques she had ever
learned over the years, Buffy fought the primal explosion that raced through her
body. Her hips jerked once against his wonderful mouth, urging him harder,
pleading with him for her release.
Standing abruptly, Angelus stripped, lifted her up and
brought her down onto him with only one thought: the need for completion. “Now
my love, now.”
With a sound that was close to a howl, Buffy let go and
felt the orgasm crash over her, felt her face shift and her teeth sink into her
lover’s neck. With blinding speed, Angelus thrust into her, building her up
again and again and again, before drinking from her and finding his own sweet
release.
Somehow they ended up on the floor, both too exhausted to
move let alone untangle themselves. Buffy absently stroked his hair, as he lay
sprawled atop of her, his head resting on her breast.
“You really love to show that dominance thing, don’t
you?” Her words were a soft whisper as her energy was still returning to her
satiated limbs.
Grinning, knowing his next words were sure to energize her
into retaliation and looking forward to it – he had a definite thing for
bondage – he replied, “Of course. I have to show you who’s boss in this
relationship. I am the Master, after all.”
Knowing what he was doing, but not willing to let this
opportunity to chain him and have her delicious way with him pass her by, Buffy
snarled, “Think so, do you?”
Five seconds later Angelus found himself chained to their
bed, Buffy standing gloriously naked at the foot, whip in hand, lusty smile
firmly in place.
“You know, love, it isn’t nice to brag. You never know
what sorts of punishment you’ll receive in the end.” The whip lashed out,
striking his upper thigh just hard enough to sting without breaking the skin.
Idly rolling a nipple between her fingers, Buffy laughed as
his cock twitched in response to both the whip and her fingers. “You’re
delicious, you know that?” She licked her lips at this even as she let fly the
whip across his stomach.
“Your skin, so hard and smooth, all that marbled muscle
just waiting for me to taste.” Placing a light kiss just above his quivering
erection she licked her way upwards to his lips before withdrawing, leaving him
craving the taste of her. Smack, smack, across his chest, the second hit drawing
a thin line of blood.
“Your blood, a combination of yours and mine, so
delectable, so addicting. So wonderfully powerful. Imagine what we can
accomplish together.” She closed her mouth over the shallow wound, sucking
lightly before drawing back to run the handle of the whip over his body.
Angelus was snarling with desire, refusing to put voice to
his needs, trying to hold onto the one last shred of dignity he had around her.
Buffy, however, knew what he was doing and laughed again, a low husky sound that
went straight to his groin.
“You can’t win with me, love; I know all your
secrets.”
A lash landed on both of his upper thighs, his lower belly
and his strong calves in rapid succession, drawing blood this time before Buffy
again used the handle of the switch to circle the head of his penis. Watching as
Angelus ground his teeth together to keep from begging, to keep from showing her
how much he needed her, Buffy continued to tease until she could no longer keep
her hands from him.
Discarding the whip in favor of tactile touch, she climbed
onto the giant bed. Starting at his finely arched feet, she lazily made her way
upwards, using hands and tongue and lips. Gently nipping along the way, always
careful to avoid his throbbing erection, knowing that eventually he’d break
and would be all hers.
Scraping her fangs over healing skin, she again drew blood,
feeding her intoxication of his body, heightening her own arousal. Clawing down
his front, enjoying the scent of blood and passion saturating the air, and
asked, “Tell me what you want, baby. Tell me to whom you belong.”
Still silence, though his eyes demanded, no begged for,
release. “Come on, lover, we both know the answer. There’s only me in the
room, only you and I ever need know that the renowned ‘Scourge of Europe’
admits to belonging to me. Just say it aloud and I promise you…”
Still nothing, then, “Promise me what?” His teeth were
clenched but the words were clear enough.
“Everything, my darling. I promise you everything.”
Still nothing. Well, Buffy thought, two can play at that
game. And kissed the tip of his penis, licking down one side and up the other
before briefly engulfing him in her cool wet mouth. He moved against her mouth,
trying to force her to give him his release. It wasn’t working and Buffy shook
her head, running her teeth along him as she slowly released him.
“Sorry, Angelus, it doesn’t work like that.” And blew
lightly on the moist tip before moving back to the foot of the bed, running her
hands along her body as she did so.
His eyes were locked on her, nothing and no one but her.
Though his body screamed for release, he was riveted to the sight of her
pleasuring herself. Harshly pinching her already hardened nipples, leaving small
welts along her belly as her hands slowly made their way downwards.
For a brief moment she teased the opening, running a finger
along the moistened slit before plunging two fingers inside. “See, love, it
isn’t that difficult. All you have to do is say the words.”
Words, however, failed Angelus as he watch his mate’s
fingers disappear inside of her own core, quickly working herself closer to her
own orgasm. With a final thrust and pinch of her clit, she came, bucking against
her hand, shouting his name.
Removing her glistening fingers and breathing heavily,
Buffy made her way back to the head of the bed. Running her wet fingers around
his mouth, she allowed him to lick them clean before straddling his hips, her
moistness teasing his cock, and asking again, “Tell me, baby. If I’m yours
then you are mine. We belong to each other and you know it.”
His resolve was broken. Whatever the reason for his
silence, it was no longer important. All that mattered was her and him and what
they could feel together. What they could be together. Her words were true,
there was no denying it and he suddenly didn’t wish to any longer.
“Yours. I’m yours as surely as you are mine.” His
yellow eyes glittered with lust and need and, quite possibly, love as he
answered her. And his bellow of satisfaction echoed around the room when she
nodded, pleased, and took him deep inside of her.
Playing with her own nipples, Buffy rode him hard and fast,
bringing him to mind numbing completion in a matter of moments before following
him. She collapsed on his stomach, licking a line of blood there, enjoying the
look of utter stupefaction and contentment on his face right before he passed
out, still chained to their bed.
Smiling, she curled on him, falling asleep with the only being she had ever wanted to hold her.
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