When Buffy finally unchained him, leisurely licking the
rapidly closing wounds she had inflicted, Angelus wrapped his arms around her
and tried to remember the last time he was on the receiving end of this much
pleasure. Never, was the immediate answer, not until Buffy.
Even after hours of hurting and fucking Darla he always
felt restless afterwards, as though he still had energy to expend and needed to
find an outlet for it. That was why they always hunted following sex, Angelus
using the thrill of the chase to ease the disquiet he felt. And all manner of
obsessions had lasted briefly, never holding his interest after they were
finally his.
This was so very different; Buffy was inventive and
passionate and always wanted more no matter what he did to her. Her introduction
into the darker side of passion was seamless and more than thoroughly enjoyable
for the both of them. Yes, her passions matched his own, perfectly.
There were all matter of things they needed to attend to:
killing all remaining friends and family starting with that insolent whelp in
the basement, Wolfram & Hart, ruling the world, then watching it burn around
them. But at the moment, nicely encased in their private world, Angelus didn’t
care about any of that. It had been such a long time since he had felt this way
that he never wanted to let her go. He was complete. Soul-boy always knew this,
yet would never allow it to happen on the chance that he, Angelus, broke free.
Angel had to know that even his demon wanted Buffy. That no
harm, once she was a vampire and completely his of course, would come to her.
With his last unneeded breath Angelus would protect her. In a strange wave of
tenderness he didn’t analyze, Angelus grazed his lips over hers. Eyes remained
locked as he slowly, affectionately even, tasted her mouth. Her eyes went soft,
clouded with pleasure and warmth.
Was this love? Could he feel that, could she?
Yes, absolutely, without a doubt. Whatever they now were,
it didn’t change what they felt for one another. The last time he had made an
extended appearance he had been so caught up in her torture, in ridding himself
of whatever he thought he hadn’t wanted, to recognize it. He thought that by
destroying the one person who made him love, then he’d destroy that love, too.
He was wrong. She had proven to be more than a match and,
conversely, that had made him want her all the more. And now he had her. She was
his, all his. Oh, the fun they would have, the pleasure, the pain they would
inflict together. Slowly he ended the kiss, releasing her mouth on her quiet
sigh of pleasure.
“You never finished telling me about vampire mating
rituals. We keep…interrupting ourselves.” Not that Buffy was complaining,
those interruptions had been more than worth it. Their conversations to date had
been based around revenge against their friends and different means of pleasure,
but she wanted to know. “Giles once said that Drusilla was Spike’s paramour;
how’s that different from consort, companion, and mate?”
At the mention of his errant Childe and his former lover
Angelus growled. “Spike,” The word was a hiss of anger. “Has he at least
been staked?” He really wanted to torture his progeny himself, but if someone
had already done so…
“Guess you didn’t get my dispatches, either. Spike’s
been commanding a portion of my army with Willow; kind of like my third in
command. ”
“He’s next, then, after we finish with the insolent boy
in our basement. I really want to torture him.” There were so many strikes
against Spike that Angelus didn’t even know where to begin. The first, he
supposed, was disrespecting his Sire and Master; not that Angelus had high marks
on that one, but that wasn’t the point. The list just grew from there, up to
and including sex with his, Angelus’, chosen mate.
“Angelus,” Buffy tried to get his attention, but he
looked to be in his own world where Spike was probably already dead and dust.
“Love, honey, you okay?” She asked when he finally looked at her, eyes clear
of the rage that clouded them a moment ago and focused on her.
“I really want to torture him. And now I think you need
another lesson in just who you belong to.” Jealously and rage roiled through
him, causing him too completely forget the subject they had been discussing.
He was already reaching for the chains when Buffy sighed.
This was generally what happened every time she brought up the subject. His mind
would fasten on some small tangent and he’d feel the need to remind her whose
she really was. Like she really needed reminding, like Spike ever had any hold
over her in the first place.
“Honey, I’m yours, all yours. Spike never stood a
chance; he was merely a convenience until I could have you back. Remember,
you’re the one who left me that year and don’t try to say it was the soul,
because let me tell you, it doesn’t matter when the end result is the same.
And you can whip me, beat me, tie me up, fuck me until I’m unconscious from
too much, I promise. But can you please finish telling me what the different is
between the mating rituals and everything else?”
It didn’t work and Angelus locked the manacles around her
wrists before moving to her ankles. Dipping the same whip she used on him in a
jar of holy water they kept for this specific use, he lashed it out, not
breaking the skin, but raising a painful welt instead. “Don’t ever deny me,
my love, it won’t go well for you. I always get my way.”
“Have I ever told you, you have a real bondage fetish?”
Not that she was complaining…
He raised a sardonic brow, “Complaining, lover?”
“No, not at all, just…making an observation.”
Angelus smiled and proceeded to alternate the whip with his
hands and mouth, bringing her to the point of pleasure time and again with both
whip and hands before denying her, ordering her not to climax, promising her
fulfillment, promising her it all, if only she obeyed him. All the while
answering her question.
“Spike is younger than Drusilla, but Dru was the weaker
of the two. Not usual, but not completely unheard of, either. It was never going
to last, anyway. She’s crazier than a loon and he’s…well, I have to kill
him now.”
Buffy was almost mindless with need, with pain and passion,
between the lash and his calculated arousal of her body, she was always
thisclose before he stopped, only to bring her up again and start the whole
thing over. Her face had long since shifted, her cries for release alternating
between growls of need for more.
“There are a few things we could do,” He said, picking
up from where he had left off, as he thrust two of his fingers into her wet
passage, snarling in satisfaction as she mindlessly ground her hips against his
hand, sobbing his name in need. “To show all the world that we belong to each
other, belong together. Your mark is one and the most important in the demon
community. Another is a simple ritual with your Sire and mine giving their
blessing, so to speak. Approval is maybe a better word.”
He had the strongest desire to be permanently joined to
her. It wasn’t something he could explain, but he went with the feeling, not
examining it too closely. “That won’t work as my sire is dead – twice now
– and yours, by now, is as well.”
By nature, he was a patient, calculating man, able to stay
his own release for hours while he did as he pleased to his current partner.
Patience still had its grip in him, allowing him to last much longer than he
normally could around Buffy, but he felt his breaking point closing in. Refusing
to break, he continued to taunt her with promises of release before disallowing
it, asking to whom she belonged.
Her answer was always the same, ‘Angelus,’ she would
say. ‘Only you, always you, my love,’ or variations on the same. He was
beyond pleased with her response, knowing that she enjoyed the torment as much
as he enjoyed tormenting her. Knowing that she spoke the truth and wouldn’t be
able to lie to him anyway, so far gone in pleasure/pain to know anything but
this truth.
Finally he broke, allowing his face to shift, crushing his
mouth to hers. “Yes, my love,” he said as she pleaded with him again and he
entered her brutally. Her wet walls clung to him, clenching around his engorged
shaft as he moved in and out of her, until he couldn't bear it any longer and
exploded into her, roaring her name and drinking long sips from her beautifully
arched neck even as her own teeth sank into his.
~~~~~~~
“A Union.” He said as he finally regained his bearings
and train of thought and was able to speak again.
Buffy, who was having a harder time with consciousness,
asked, “Huh, what?”
“Equality between the two, true mates in every sense of
the word; it’s not really done, it can only be dissolved through the death of
one by an outsider – a clan outsider, meaning that our childer can’t kill us
either. In other words, we can’t kill each other; it won’t work. It’s a
bit more complicated, involves some of our progeny bearing witnesses, some
spoken words, a bit of magick, a full moon, sex and the mixing of our blood.”
It was ridiculous, absolutely positively fucking ridiculous to want her answer
to be ‘yes’ so badly that he felt the need to hold his breath. Stupid, mad,
foolish; he was losing his fucking mind.
Buffy had regained all measure of coherency at this point
if not mobility and knew what he was feeling, if not the specifics. He wanted
this as badly as she did. Wanted to be irrevocably joined with her forever.
They’d never leave each other again. “When do we start?”
“As soon as we take care of our guest and the rest of our
friends, love.”
Their lips met once again, in agreement of what they had
just committed to, in passion and lust. And even if they only admitted it to
themselves, in love. Wrapping her legs around his waist, Buffy reached down and
gently guided him into her swollen and still sore body. Once he was seated to
the hilt, though, her pain was no longer a factor, only pleasure was to be had.
No matter how many times they had indulged in each other during the past weeks,
no matter how many ways they had climaxed, still, they couldn’t get enough.
So when she sank her fangs into his neck, swallowing his
blood that was now mixed irrevocably with hers and the first wave of her orgasm
crashed over her, Buffy shouted his name, knowing that his was the only one
she’d ever shout again. Clasping him tighter to her, moving faster under him,
digging nails deeper into his skin. And urged his mouth to her breast, crying
out again as he emptied himself into her, drawing blood from her breast as a
child would his mother’s milk.
And when Angelus howled her name, he knew that hers was the
only one he’d ever call out again. She was his ultimate obsession and it was
forever.
********
Xander was confused, disoriented and numb. The first two he
could understand, whatever had hit him had done so with a vengeance. The third
was harder to rationalize as he couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel his
body.
He knew it was there, if it wasn’t then he wouldn’t be
able to know it wasn’t there as he’d be dead. This logic was getting him
nowhere so he decided to concentrate on something else. What was the last thing
he remembered?
Eastern perimeter sentry duty; he had volunteered while
Willow, Giles and Spike (he was still trying to get over the whole Spike helps
the good guys because he has a soul bit) devised a new plan to combat the ever
growing forces now that Buffy was…gone. Their own forces were scattered, it
was hard to keep them cohesive when their fabled leader was dead.
Or at least they assumed Buffy was dead, her body was never
found and no one claimed responsibility for her death. And something like that
was sure to find even the most far-flung reaches of an army, no matter the
cause.
Trying to lift his head, Xander was greeted with intense
pain, wondering, again, what in hell had happened to him. Sentry duty, noise –
his name? – total blackness, then this. He had no way of knowing how long he
had been unconscious and no real desire to care. His only worry was that the
band currently playing ‘The Turkish March’ – something he now knew thank
you so much, Giles – in his head wouldn’t stop.
Breathe, he ordered himself; try to focus on anything other
than the pain. Which was pretty laughable as the pain was everywhere. But he
focused enough to allow his eyes to open…into a dimly lit wine cellar? That
made no sense. Did demons drink wine?
Upon closer inspection, though, Xander noticed that while
the wine racks, an impressive number indeed, were still lining the wall, the
basement had been converted. Torches stood at intervals, casting just enough
light to make out shapes, but no clear figures. The entire center was empty but
for a high-backed cushioned chair that looked more like a throne than anything
else. What on earth could that be used for?
And if the chains hanging near him and the ones imprisoning
his wrists and feet, not to mention the many and varied objects covering the
tables were any indication, he was not here for a wine tasting.
He was about to be tortured but good.
Oddly, he couldn’t bring himself to care overmuch. True,
he had no death wish, but on the other hand, he couldn’t bring himself to care
about anything other than the pain radiating through his body and his growing
thirst.
He changed his mind when the door opened and Buffy strolled
in.
It was a few seconds before he could make his mouth utter
the words and when he did they sounded foreign to his own ears. “Buffy? Oh,
God, you’re alive?!” And then the questions began. “Where are we? What
happened to you? Have you been here all this time? Does Giles know you’re
still alive? What’s going on?”
He ran out of questions about the time his voice ran out on
him. He was grinning like a loon but didn’t care, suddenly all his pain
vanished at the sight of his – very much alive – friend.
“Hello, Xander.” She wandered further into the room,
keeping to the shadows once he got a good glimpse of her. “We’re in the
basement of a rather large house, I’ve only been here a few days, no, Giles
doesn’t know…yet. As for what’s going on, that’s all up to you.”
Confused, he asked, “What do you mean? Are you a
prisoner? Who captured you? Come on, get me down from here before whoever took
me, us, returns.”
“Sorry, Xand, can’t do that.” She didn’t sound at
all sorry; instead her tone held a distinct note of…enjoyment of his
situation?
“What? Why not? Buff, what’s going on?” And then he
heard the laugh. It wasn’t Buffy’s, so it took his addled brain a moment to
discern from where it was coming. It sounded vaguely familiar, and sent chills
straight to his core. “Who is…wait. I know that laugh.”
And the sinking feeling in his stomach spread.
“Do you, now, boy?” Angelus sauntered into the room,
sadistic smile firmly in place, unholy glee shinning brightly in his eyes.
Xander panicked. “Buffy, run, Angel’s not…”
Her laugh, cruel and delightful at the same time, stopped
him dead. With eyes that threatened to pop from his head, Xander watched as
Buffy, clad in tight black leather pants and a formfitting sleeveless top,
walked into the circle of light and made her way to where Angel – Angelus –
was standing. She ran a hand up his chest, reaching around to lower his mouth to
hers.
The kiss was carnal in the extreme; two beautifully evil
creatures wrapped around each other showing, indulging in, their bottomless need
for each other. Fascinated despite himself, Xander couldn’t help but watch
their display. How Angelus’ arms pulled her close, molding her smaller body to
his, Buffy’s hands as they held tight, unwilling to let him go.
It seemed that no matter the state of their respective
souls, they still felt the connection; that primal knowledge the other was
theirs and no one else would do. If his life weren’t in imminent danger –
and he wasn’t aware what these creatures truly were – Xander would have been
moved.
“Angel’s not what? Not Angel? You really think so?”
That was when the words in his brain, the ones telling him
that he was more than dead and all was not as it first appeared, penetrated his
consciousness. He had no idea what had happened, but he knew that he’d not
live long enough to tell the others. Deciding he needed confirmation anyway,
Xander asked, his voice filled with hatred and loathing for the vampire that
stood before him as the other ran his hands possessively over Buffy’s slim
body.
“What did you do to her, you monster?”
Laughing at the wonderful irony of the situation, Angelus
released his hold on Buffy and went to the boy chained to the wall. Oh, this was
going to be just too much fun. “Why, nothing, boy. I did absolutely
nothing...to change her. She was already like this when I found her.”
Dead, he was dead; he just knew it. There was no way he was
making it out of this room alive. “Like this?” It came out a squeak for
Xander already knew what had happened.
Shifting into her vampire face, Buffy smiled around her
fangs, moving into her lover’s arms once again. This was just too easy!
Xander’s fear filled the room, making her hunger for the taste of his blood
and all those delicious emotions that laced it. “What did you expect, Xander?
Surely you must have known, even you can’t be that stupid.”
“I don’t know, love,” Angelus stopped his exploration
of her neck and tilted his head to the side, studying Xander. “I think he is.
Look at him; he just can’t believe his eyes. Maybe we should remove them as
they’re going to be useless anyway.” And went to find the proper tool for
the job.
Beyond panicked and into full blown mind freezing, terror,
Xander struggled against his bonds, knowing it was useless, not caring, still
struggling with what he had just learned and praying that it was all a nightmare
and he’d wake up to find Willow standing over him. He tried to plead with his
friend, tried to appeal to whatever humanity was left within her.
It was useless and he should have known that from their
experience with Angelus the first time around. And then Buffy stopped Angelus
and Xander felt a moment’s hope. It was soon brutally crushed beneath the
soles of her heeled leather boots.
“Darling, wait.” And laughed at the undisguised hope
that suddenly radiated from her friend. “If we take his eyes, he won’t be
able to see everything.”
This doesn’t bode well for our hero, Xander thought in
some portion of his mind still able to process information.
Angelus stopped midway back to the dangling boy, something
very near a pout forming on his lips. “Love, you promised.” Then brightened
as the full meaning of her words registered. If he hadn’t been so focused on
cutting the annoying child into tiny pieces he probably would have thought of
that first. “Then again, there is something to be said for anticipation.”
And replaced what suspiciously looked like a melon scoop,
on the tray of gleaming objects.
~~~~~~~~
Xander was right. He wasn’t getting out of here alive.
But in the mean time, he was introduced to more pain than he thought the human
body could withstand.
Angelus had begun; eagerly taking a coiled whip and flaying
Xander until his back ran with blood and his clothes were in shreds. Buffy
curled into the armed throne-chair, watching with appreciation-tinged lust in
her eyes. He was truly magnificent, her mate. Strong and powerful, he had an
innate skill for torturing his victims, instinctually knowing what they feared
most then exploiting it.
It was wonderful to watch, knowing that whatever techniques
he used would be to maximize the pain, yet keep the victim alive until Angelus
decided he could die. He switched to a long Scottish dagger, called a dirk,
pilfered from the prodigious sword collection of the house owner – former
house owner. Using it he severed several fingers before cauterizing the wounds
with a hot poker to keep blood loss – from those injuries anyway – at a
minimum.
With Xander hanging limply by wrists that bled profusely
and legs that refused to hold him upright, Angelus spun him around so the boy
could watch what was to come. When his shredded back made contact with the
stoned wall, Xander cried out in pain, earning him a sharp hand across his
mouth.
His voice was hoarse from screaming and all he wanted to do
was curl in a corner and die. He wouldn’t, however, give the vicious creature
in front of him that pleasure; or so he tried to convince himself. But he
couldn’t control the whimpers escaping his mouth, nor the plea for water.
Angelus turned, raising a silent eyebrow in question. True,
he wanted to torture Xander to within an inch of his miserable cowardly life,
but Buffy wanted the ultimate kill. He was her friend, after all. Buffy stood
gracefully, her smooth and elegant movements inflaming the already burning
desire Angelus felt for her.
Reaching for the pitcher of water set out for this sole
purpose, she poured a glass and gently tilted it so Xander could drink. He
greedily accepted, not even caring why she was doing this. All he knew any more
was his thirst, the intense pain surrounding him, and the strong desire to give
up.
If he had the energy to think about it, he would have
realized how simple it really was. No fun playing with an unconscious man who
couldn’t fully appreciate their actions.
“I think he needs to rest, lover. It’s no good watching
you play when he can’t feel anything you do to him.” Her meaning was clear:
she wanted him and now. Watching him with the whip reminded her of their
previous activities and she could wait no longer to feel his hard naked body
against her.
Dropping his dirk with a clatter to the floor, Angelus spun
her into his arms, hungrily devouring her mouth with his, pulling her shirt over
her head to savagely attack her breasts. Knowing Xander could still see and hear
if not fully register what they were doing only added to the pleasure.
And Xander could, he heard every moan and hiss of pleasure,
every growl for more and demand for now. He heard Buffy’s cry of need when
Angelus finally plunged into her waiting, welcoming body; Angelus’ own roar of
satisfaction when Buffy sank her fangs into his neck, drinking deeply.
He watched it all, a kind of dim horror settling over him
at the sight. It was erotic, the way they held each other, caressing and
clawing, drawing blood only to soothe the wound in an almost tender way with
lips and tongue. Savage in the most primal of ways, yet strangely arousing, too.
His friend was gone forever; there was no getting her back.
Even if the Restoration Spell had been handy and Willow able to perform it,
Xander doubted that Buffy would be the same after what she had undoubtedly done
in the month since her change. And he knew for a fact that he wouldn’t be
around to see it, anyway.
Angelus’ weight settled on her, comforting in its
coolness, absolutely right in the way he fit with her body. Her legs were still
locked around his waist, keeping him deep inside her, unwilling to let him go so
soon. Buffy felt his tongue, moist and cool, languidly licking the puncture
marks on her skin, closing the tiny injury.
Sighing with absolute pleasure, she brought his mouth back
to hers, slowly kissing him before laying her head back against the hardwood
floor, too spent to move. She sighed again as his lips softly kissed her closed
eyelids, her pert nose, sweeping each cheekbone and across her forehead to
gently probe her waiting mouth.
Feeling himself harden inside of her Angelus thought that
if he spent every minute of every day for the rest of eternity with her it still
wouldn’t be enough. While what they did to and with each other couldn’t
really be called making love in the traditional sense, it occasionally took on a
gentler quality that was suspiciously close to tenderness.
She was the first to show him that softer side, the only
one to see it in him. He realized as the kiss came to its natural end, that he
should feel anger at that. Softness and Angelus didn’t mesh; he was, in fact,
quite notorious for destroying everything that caused him to feel even
remotely…human. But it was different with Buffy; different in a way he had
ignored the last time.
Maybe if he had handled his first reappearance another way,
not trying to emotionally destroy her – for that worked oh, so well – and
instead teaching her all he could offer, all the pleasure she could receive at
his hands, soul-boy might never have returned. And he could have been the one to
turn her, to end her delicious heat while fucking her until she screamed for
more. Screamed for him, not Angel.
Turning his head to look at Xander, he noted that the boy
was aware, if not totally happy about it. Well, he wasn’t ready to resume his
task just yet. The boy would have to wait. Ah, the anticipation, it would be
exquisite; on Angelus’ part, that is. Xander would be made to suffer
physically and physiologically before the sun set on his final day.
*********
Angelus had been in a creative mood and had carved several
Irish Celtic designs into his torso and upper thighs with hot branding irons.
Ending with a design similar to that Buffy gave Belinda, one of his and
Buffy’s initials, he stepped back to admire his work. True, working with
branding irons was a more bulky task than with a finely carved knife, but the
results were much more enjoyable.
Satisfied, he turned to Buffy. “He’s all yours,
darling. I doubt he’ll appreciate the irony of you draining him, but I did
promise you could have the final kill.”
“I don’t know,” She said, coming to stand beside him
to scrutinize his work. “There isn’t much left. Barely enough to fill me.”
“I’ll take you hunting afterwards, don’t worry.” He
said, kissing her briefly before backing away to watch in exquisite pleasure.
Xander had just enough strength left to raise his head and
look in the flat mirth-filled eyes of a girl he had once loved, a girl who had
been his friend and a woman to whom he had pledged his allegiance. And accepted
his fate, gratefully; the pain was tremendous and all he wanted was surcease.
With supreme will he asked one final question, “Why?”
It came out as barely a croak, but Buffy heard him anyway.
“Do you really want to know?” He nodded, once. “You
are a coward, a person who pretended to be my friend all the while criticizing
me at every turn. When I was with Angel you had not one nice thing to say about
him. After his little…transformation, it was even worse with the ‘I told you
so’ attitude.”
She was worked up, now, venting years worth of anger at a
man who was supposed to be one of her best friends. “When I went to confront
him and Acathla you lied about Willow’s departing words, at least she had the
decency to want to tell me what was happening. When I came back from my sojourn
in LA that summer all you could think about was yourself and how I should get
over my pain. The pain, I might add, that was caused because I had to send my
lover to hell. You didn’t care about me
or what I was going through, never noticed how unhappy I was, it was all about you.”
She paced away from him, before whirling back in a move too
fast for him to follow. “When he came back, somewhat miraculously I might add,
you chastise and censured and told me that I was putting you in danger. Never once did you think about me and what I
wanted. Which, should you care now, was to be with him, only with him. But you
didn’t care about that either, did you, Xander?
He didn’t respond, he couldn’t, really, so she
continued. “Pushed me into a relationship with Riley. God, do you have any
idea how boring he was? Drugs kept him going, he couldn’t take me in a
full-strength fight, he was barely a match for Dawn. He
obsessed over how I was so much stronger than he; how I saved the world but
didn’t have time for little ol’ him. And in bed! God can we say uninventive?
Was it any wonder I left him at night to find something more stimulating in the
hunt?”
Winding down in her severely abbreviated litany of problems
she had with Xander, Buffy moved back to where he was hanging. “There is just
so much more to say, but I’m suddenly tired of having to justify myself to
you. I just don’t care. I have what I want, and to hell with the rest of
you.”
“I had no idea…”
“Of course not. Why should you care about the problems of
your friends if they don’t directly involve you?”
Holding his chin with one hand she asked, “So are you
ready, Xander? Are you ready to face your fate? Are you ready to die?”
He could say nothing to that, he simply nodded and closed
his eyes. As her fangs sank softly into his neck, Xander wondered what Willow
would say when she found out. Wondered if anyone would be left to care.
Angelus didn’t
care and wondered if it were possible to kill him more than once. He had some
idea of how Xander had treated Buffy, but not to this extent. He wanted to
viciously tear him from limb to limb, only to start all over again until his
anger was sated. He wanted the boy’s death to be so prolonged that it was a
hundred years before he drew his last breath. Wanted to strike him tenfold for
each insult he had ever hurled at Buffy, for each time he never appreciated her
pain and suffering, each time he didn’t care.
Buffy turned from draining Xander to find her lover
breathing heavily, his eyes pure gold, teeth bared, and a long snarl emanating
form deep within his chest. Instinctively she knew what the cause of his anger
was and moved to him, drawing his attention away from the now dead boy.
Cupping his cheek with her hands, she brought her bloodied
mouth to his, kissing him deeply in appreciation for what he wanted to do to her
former – and now dead – friend. “Let’s go hunt, Angelus, a young child
or something will make you feel better, I promise.” Killing Xander had
certainly made her feel better.
“After what he did to you, why didn’t you let me kill
him long ago?” They were moving out of the cellar, Xander’s limp carcass its
only decoration. “We could turn him, keep him chained and start all over
again.” His voice held such a hopeful note that Buffy had to laugh.
“No, I don’t think so. He’s dead, I don’t ever want
to see him or hear his voice again.” Buffy shrugged in answer to his first
question as they stepped into the darkening sky and she breathed deeply. It felt
wonderful to let that all out, to finally release some of her anger towards the
man who had called himself her friend.
“I don’t know. I guess all I wanted to do was forget
all the insults, I had so few friends and you were a hundred miles away. I
really had no one to turn to and I thought I needed everyone I could get.”
Jumping into his arms, she whispered seductively, “Make me forget? Show me how
much you want me, make me forget I ever cared what he thought about me. Then
take me hunting, I need the thrill of the chase.”
“Gladly.” And proceeded to show her how much he needed
her.
~~~~~~
The full moon shone down upon them, bathing them in her
magnificent light as they lounged in the pool. Jasmine bloomed all around,
adding its fragrance to the scents surrounding them. As Buffy floated on a long
raft, Angelus drifting alongside her, she thought she had never felt
more…content seemed too sappy a word, but was damned close.
After they had made love, twice, they stalked the lonely
streets of downtown LA. Clubbers were just arriving for a night of frenzied
music, too much alcohol, and the promise of unfettered sex. Several didn’t
make it. Children were kept inside, though several wandered the streets, alone
and afraid despite the arrogance they showed to the world. They were the most
delicious.
“Do you want to stay here, love?” Her voice was soft
and seemed to float to him, around him. The fingers of one hand gravitated
upwards, softly caressing the back of his head as he laid it on her stomach.
“I am partial to luxuries, but this isn’t really an
ideal location to execute our plans. We need something a little closer to the
action for that. I still say we dispose of your army first, they’re closest
and we already know where they’re located.”
“I know,” She pouted, “But I really want to torture Cordelia.”
Angelus smiled, utterly pleased with the way his existence was turning out. “I
told you, she’s some kind of higher being now. It’ll be much harder to do
anything to her. The only reason she came back to fight on this plane was
because soul boy needed someone in charge of his second flank.”
Trailing his hands over her naked body, Angelus dipped a
finger in her core, already wet for him. “Hmm, yes, well, I still want a go at
her. Okay, we’ll think of something. Maybe Giles will know how to get to
her.”
“Still planning on turning him?” She had expressly told
him that she wanted Giles with them. No killing of her father figure. Angelus
had found that highly amusing as he had killed his own father almost
immediately. But he respected the bond she shared with her mentor and what Buffy
wanted she got.
“Yes, I really can’t imagine eternal life without
him.” Bearing down on his fingers, Buffy silently urged him on. “Besides,
he’s the smartest person I know, I’m sure he’ll have all kinds of ideas
for taking over the world.”
“And Willow? Her, too?” He really had nothing against
the witch – former witch – except the recasting of his soul. Still, if she
were turned, her magick would be invaluable.
“Harder, love.” When he complied, adding a third finger
and using his thumb to manipulate her clit, Buffy gasped his name. “
Willow…she’s good at what she does. And her magick is strong, powerful
enough to almost end the world. Like I said a valuable addition to our little
army.”
“But I still get to torture Spike, right?” There was
hope in his voice as he raised his head, lips closing over the nipple closest to
him, blunt teeth scraping over the peak.
“Ahhh, Angelus! Faster.” Buffy forgot what his question
was, so lost in the feelings that poured through her.
His fingers were moving in and out of her welcoming body so
quickly that Buffy overturned, taking him with her. Not caring, nor giving her a
chance to recover, he lifted her up and slammed her onto his waiting erection.
They moved together, the water sloshing around them, the
swells gentle despite the furious pace of their coupling. To the normal human
eye, it was a blur of movement, too fast to discern individual shapes and
figures.
For them, it was too slow as they raced for the peak they
knew would crash over them in pounding waves. And crash they did, the ecstasy
streaming through them prolonged as they drank from each other, their blood so
mixed it was indiscernible from the other.
Somehow Angelus found himself against the wall in the
shallow end, barely holding himself up, let alone the added weight, small though
that was, of Buffy. Floating to the steps, he sat down, still joined with her,
holding her in his arms as she slowly came back to earth.
At length she said, “Is it always like this?” At his
questioning look she clarified. “When you had other lovers – whom I might
have to kill as well should we find any still alive– was it always this
intense? Is this just the way it is for vampires?”
Shaking his head, Angelus prepared to admit aloud what he
had barely acknowledged to himself. “No. It has never been like this, ever.
Pleasurable, yes, add some pain and it’s even more so. But this,” He nodded
his head to indicate her and him, “This is something else entirely.”
The water lapped around them, caressing them as they caressed each other as she leaned back in his arms. “Do you think it’s because we loved each other when we had souls?”
“Hmm, maybe,” He agreed after a moments thought. “I don’t really know.
For the soul, you were the first person he ever loved. When that soul vanished
and I was back, my first thought was to get back at you for making me – in any
incarnation – feel that way. Loved, whole, complete.”
“That why you spent months stalking me and trying to
break me?” She leaned further back in his embrace, long hair trailing in the
water, wanting to see his face as he answered.
“Yes. It was a tried and true method, but
I…underestimated you.” At her smirk he hastily amended, “Only in the fact
that we’re so alike, you and I. We are two parts of the same whole and I tried
to destroy that when I should have showed you instead what it could be like.”
Buffy raised herself up to slowly sink back down on his
hardening penis. “Show me again.”
********
Buffy watched, following him but making no move to help.
“Okay, we can either make some, or recruit some. Up to you, you know more
about this than I.” She watched him trudge back through the gardens,
fastidiously wiping his hands on his pants and held back a chuckle. Imagine, the
‘Scourge of Europe’ worrying about dead people germs.
“I don’t care, but the sooner the better, this is
ridiculous.” Taking one last look at his hands, which really had nothing on
them despite his misgivings, he added, “Actually, it’ll probably have to be
both if we want to complete our union ritual.” And pulled Buffy to him,
kissing her slowly.
If he were one to worry overmuch, Angelus would have
obsessed over the fact that he occasionally felt the need to be gentle with his
lover, to show her how much she really meant to him, demon or no.
He tried not to think about it too often, it gave him the
hives.
And it wasn’t like their couplings ever ended slow,
started, maybe, but they were always fast and furious. As Angelus deepened the
kiss, his hands finding and molding her breasts he smiled when he thought, once
again, how similar he and Buffy were in their likes and dislikes – not only
during sex, which was beyond amazing, but in other things as well. Torture,
leadership, the complete lack of patience when dealing with idiots, relishing
their privacy, the desire to rule the world. It would have been almost scary if
it hadn’t been so…exquisite.
Goddess, he was beginning to sound like that soul.
“Hmm, much as I want to finish this, love, we better get
moving if we’re to make it to Las Vegas before sunset, it’s about a five
hour drive. There is something to be said for modern technology and tinted
windows.” Angelus reluctantly released her and together they walked back to
the mansion.
“I always wondered why it was called ‘Sin City.’ Now
I know; damn portals to hell are everywhere. Okay, so the plan is to go in, get
Willow and Spike, and return here, right?”
“Yes, the sooner the better. A little magick to confuse
the issue, a cloaking spell for us and the rest of the army will never know what
happened until long past sunrise. Fighting at night is a great advantage for us.
It’ll take Giles at least a little while to realize what happened and appoint
another leader. Then he’ll want to check out the scene for himself, I’m
sure. One more advantage for us.”
He turned to her as they passed the fountain adorning the
center of the sprawling gardens. “Have you decided what to do about Dawn? If
she’s as powerful as you say, she might not be able to be turned. I don’t
know all the details on it, but if she was this key, then she has access to
magicks we know nothing about.”
“True, but she’s still human. Powerful absolutely, but
still human. I think it’ll work out nicely. Her and Willow will make a
splendid team. What about you? Any of your team you wish to…recruit? What
about Connor?”
A deep rumble built in his chest and spread at the mention
of his son’s name. “I don’t know. He is my son, something I never thought
I’d ever have soul or no. As such he’s a vicious killer, smart and strong
and cunning. He’d certainly be a valuable ally. It’s odd, but when I was
first turned, I only wanted to kill my family. Now I want to…draft them.”
The hives were beginning to pop out, he could feel them.
“Plus he’s Dawn’s age, more or less – this whole time thing never makes
any sense. I’m sure they’d enjoy each other immensely.”
Buffy smiled at that, purring her pleasure at her lover’s
plan. “Perfect, love. Now Spike, he’s all yours. Just do me one favor…make
him suffer.”
Gathering her in his arms, he vamped out and bit her lower
lip, drawing a small amount of blood before licking it away. “Anything for
you, my love. Now, do you want him conscious for Willow’s turning?” He
asked, returning to their original topic of conversation. “She’ll have to
be; there’s that small matter of her drinking your blood, can’t do that if
she isn’t awake. But Spike…I really want to torture him.”
The more he thought about it, the more inventive ways he
thought up. A vampire could normally withstand much more agony than a human. And
Spike, he knew from experience, had a very strong constitution indeed. He was
hard just thinking about it. Maybe a quickie before they left.
“He’s all yours, darling. Whatever you wish to do to
him feel free.” Buffy could sense, much more strongly than she could before,
Angelus’ desire to hurt his childe. She could also feel the arousal shimmering
around him and took the opportunity to leap into his arms, mouth fastening on
his as he carried her through the back door into the kitchen.
“I think that we should leave him unharmed while we do
Willow.” Buffy gasped after a moment. “Maybe let her in on the fun, too.”
“Works for me.” He agreed, before setting her on the
large kitchen counter to continue his journey across her body.
~~~~~~
Buffy stared at the scene before her in complete and utter
shock. No, this couldn’t be right. Could it? Time shift, alternate dimension,
some kind of weird spell gone wrong? Slowly she blinked again, willing her eyes
to refocus on the scene before her. Nope, still the same.
Turning to Angelus she asked, “Honey, do you see what I
see?”
Slowly, equally stunned, her lover nodded. “And you say
you had no idea this was going on?”
“None,” She reiterated, looking back at the scene in
front of them.
Spike was currently fucking Willow six ways from Sunday;
Willow seemed to be enjoying herself immensely if the howls of pleasure coming
from her were any indication. How was it that no one else seemed disturbed by
the sounds coming from the tent?
Apparently the reason Spike had agreed to follow Willow
when Buffy had split her army several months ago was for more personal reasons
than she had suspected. All his arguments about bloody battles and finally
giving his life meaning and whatnot suddenly made more sense when Buffy factored
in the fact – now – that Spike’s eyes hadn’t left Willow the entire
time. How had she missed that before?
Simple: She had been caught up in strategies and plans and
supplies and dispatches and missing Angel. She hadn’t noticed anything that
wasn’t directly involved in her campaign.
“Dampening spell,” Angelus said suddenly and with
conviction, “Has to be.”
“Then why can we
hear them but no one else seems to?” The noises were making her want to delay
their plan for a good long while and ravage Angelus until they were both
unconscious.
“Don’t know,” Nor at the moment did he care. “Maybe
because you remembered the spell they used to protect their perimeter and since
we cast our spell, we are, technically, outside of everything because of it.”
He shook his head once, in an attempt to clear his brain of the cloud of lust
that settled over it.
“Either way, we had better hurry,” He pulled her to
him, crushing her lips with his, the meaning clear: He wanted her as badly as
she wanted him.
“Good plan. Couldn’t we let them finish, first? Seems
kind of rude to interrupt…besides, it’ll give us a little time to…” Just
then Spike’s fangs sank into Willow’s neck, drawing deeply from her as they
climaxed together. “Never mind. I guess now’s a good a time as any.
Right?” She swallowed, trying to cool the burning of her blood, her thoughts
still on Angelus’ breathtaking body and what he did to her with it.
“Right. Let’s go…right.”
~~~~~~~~
Willow and Spike awoke quite sometime later to find
themselves securely chained to the wall. Buffy smiled from her chair, set far
back in the shadows, as they tried to free themselves. It was futile, Angelus
had magickally enhanced the shackles for that express reason.
Speaking of her errant lover, where was he? He should have
been back hours ago. She could vaguely feel him burning through her blood,
whatever he was doing he was overjoyed at it.
He had left an hour after they had returned with Willow and
Spike – and a mad bout of sex – saying only that he had an errand and would
be home before sunrise. It was the first time since her change that they had
been separated and she wasn’t handling it too well. Not to mention that they
had gone almost six hours without having sex: that must have been a record.
Abruptly Spike stilled as if recognizing another presence
in the room. “Quiet, love,” he said to Willow who was still working to free
herself, muttering all the while. Squinting into the darkness he tried to
discern who was sitting there. His senses told him it was another vampire, but
the scent was…off, different. Not something he had ever smelled before, yet
utterly familiar.
And the sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach as he
realized who it was rendered him speechless.
“Hello, Willow.” Buffy’s voice floated out from the
darkness like a ghost. And for a moment Willow thought she was. Before she
stepped into the light and smiled at her best friend.
“B-b-b…Buffy?” The word stuck in her suddenly dry
throat, and Willow’s eyes bulged. “You, you’re alive?”
“More or less.” She nodded to the other vampire,
knowing he had already figured it out, “Spike.”
Just then Angelus walked through the door, arms full of
bags of herbs and candles and two very old looking scrolls and a carved wooden
box he placed away from the rest of his supplies. Looking at their now awake
guests, he cursed. “Damn it, I was hoping to return before they awoke. Well,
doesn’t matter I guess. This’ll work just as well when they’re awake as
when they’re not.”
Curious, Buffy wandered over to him, looking through the
assorted items he was setting on the table. “Where’d you go, baby?”
“Needed some supplies to make this so much more
enjoyable. Set them up for me, darling? The instructions are on the scrolls.”
Winding her hands through his hair and pulling him in for a
kiss, she nodded. “I missed you.”
“Bloody hell, I knew it! Well…not really, no, but…but
I suspected. Well…not this, but something at least.”
Willow was totally confused as she watched her best friend
and that friend’s lover hungrily embrace each other. “What, knew what?”
What was going on here?
Spike just laughed at the irony of the situation. They had
just lost any chance they ever had of winning this war, not to mention staying
alive. “How’d you return, Angelus?” He emphasized his sire’s true name,
causing Willow to choke in shock.
“Angelus? What? Buffy, what’s going on?” Her muddled
brain just couldn’t grasp what was happening, nor, she suspected did she want
it to.
It was Spike who answered though Buffy and Angelus looked
on in amusement. “Not sure how it happened, love, but apparently Buffy’s
death also caused her to rise from the dead. Did you do it, mate?”
The other vampire laughed, sending chills down Willow’s spine. “No, that little pleasure was not mine. You remember Belinda, boy?” At Spike’s scowl of recognition Angelus continued, “She got it in her tiny little brain to turn the slayer, use some kind of mojo to rid me of that pesky soul, and rule the world. Had some help, but in the end, needless to say, it didn’t work out in her favor.”
“No, I imagine not. She always did reach further than she could manage.”
Again Spike shook his head; still chuckling despite the fact he knew he was
about to die horribly and very painfully. “So are congratulations in order?
I’m assuming that something minor such as not turning your greatest obsession
didn’t stand in your way of claiming her.”
“Of course not, nothing ever would. But this isn’t
about us, Spike. This is about you. And the fact that you tried to take what was
mine. You should know better. What were you thinking, boy?” Without waiting
for his answer, Angelus turned to Willow. “And Willow, I must say, I’m
shocked.” He shook his head sorrowfully. “Never would have pegged you for
fucking a vampire; even one with a soul.”
Shrugging negligently, he turned back to Buffy who had just
finished mixing the various ingredients. “Ah, well, let the fun begin. Love,
you ready?”
“Which one would you like to do first?” She asked,
indicating the two bowls, one filled with a dark green powder, the other with
bright yellow.
“I think Willow, don’t you? Make things a bit more
interesting all around.”
Buffy brought him the bright yellow powder and one of the scrolls. The binds used to inhibit Willow’s access to her magick would be gone within the hour. And the world would feel her anger.
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