Title: Breaking a Slayer: Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

Spoilers/Ships: This is AU. Buffy/Spike/Angel.

Distribution: Sure, just let me know.

Feedback: Is always nice. DarkRhiannon@aol.com

Rating: NC-17.
 
 

Angel paced the floor of the mansion in hopeless seething fury. He needed Buffy, wanted her, was dying for her taste…her feel…the velvety softness of her exquisite skin. And his childe was up there with her right now. He could hear Spike murmuring to her, wicked promises of things that Angel desperately desired to do with his mate. But he couldn't. Keeping Angelus leashed within him was growing more difficult daily, and being with Buffy and Spike was driving him insane.

But what alternative did he have? Abandoning his mate to his childe's claim was not possible. He couldn't leave her, she was his, body and soul, as he was hers until he turned to dust. Which would be soon if he kept circling the woman who possessed his every thought, night and day, unable to touch her. Losing her to Spike was killing him and he couldn't keep taking out his aggression on his childe, could he?

Angel climbed the stairs to Buffy's room, lurking outside the door and listening to the sighs and moans issuing from within as his childe pleasured his mate without his presence. He pushed the door open slowly and watched them from the hallway.

Buffy's robe had fallen back from her shoulders, wreathing her in a soft silken cloud as she leaned back against the foot of her bed in aroused abandon. Spike knelt at her feet, sucking one dainty toe after another into his voracious mouth and teasing ever higher on her shapely legs with his sensitive fingers.

Angel's low rumbling growl at the sight caught their attention and they looked up at him, twin expressions of dazed lust and sudden worry passing over their beautiful countenances. Buffy looked ashamed, then defiant, while Spike…Spike looked challenging. He pulled his mouth from Buffy's delicate ankle and growled back at his sire. Game face rose up and Spike glared at Angel with golden eyes before snarling with teeth exposed and pulling Buffy's leg up to his waiting mouth. His eyes stayed locked on Angel's as Spike teased the Slayer with the points of his incisors. He traced delicate patterns on her calves before mouthing the backs of her knees and moving upward towards the apex of her legs.

Neither male missed her rush of arousal at the enticing touch, nor her almost inaudible moan of need as she fell back on the bed, abandoning herself to the rapture that Spike was so skilled at creating within her.

All control lost, Angel leapt to the bed with a menacing growl at Spike, pulling Buffy from his Childe and pushing her back into the soft pillows. He crushed her mouth to his, kissing her roughly and moaning as his large hands swept over her body. He muttered to her as he lavished kisses over her face, her neck, her eyes and ears. "So beautiful, so perfect, mmmm, Beloved, I want you so badly. I need you, Buffy, please…" His passionate kisses ravished her senses and built her fires to a blazing inferno of need and desire. He lowered his mouth to her collarbone, sweeping kisses and tiny licking bites across it before moving lower to her delectable breasts.

Sighing in pleasure, Buffy gave herself up to Angel's burning passion, responding to his knowing caresses with increasing fervor. He suckled her breasts with delighted frenzy, reveling in her heady response to his touch. She moaned and grabbed for his tousled head, pulling him closer and grinding her nipple into his fangs until blood flowed from the pinpricks. Angel moaned in lust and sucked at the amazing blood, his hands roving lower to Buffy's wet triangle of curls. He teased her hooded clit with gentle fingers, stroking and pulling at the tiny bud before moving one large hand lower to spread her legs.

Reluctantly abandoning the healing punctures in her breast, Angel kissed his way down Buffy's lithe belly to the pulsing object of his desire. He laved her clit with soft slow licks of his cool tongue and she writhed under his expert ministrations. Suddenly another cool mouth engulfed the aching breast that Angel had sipped from and a cool tongue lapped at the punctures there, opening them and drawing the blood from them again with tantalizing suction while skillful fingers teased the other aching breast to nearly equal delight.

The twin sensations threw Buffy over the edge in a rapture of feeling. She screamed her lovers' names in ecstasy and they responded by doubling their efforts, forcing another orgasm from her body with mindless need.

Angel's hand slipped down to his pants and he ripped them open. Thought had left him and he only knew that he must be inside this woman, this mate of his or die from loss of her. He threw his pants out of the way and moved to crouch between Buffy's legs. She was still lost in rapture as Spike nursed blood from her aching breast with pleasurable pain. Neither was aware of the danger about to descend on them all as Angel thrust forward to reclaim his mate.

Chapter 14

Spike woke from the daze of lustful rut as he recognized Angel's utter loss of control. Tearing his mouth from Buffy's soft breast, Spike threw himself at his sire, taking them both to the floor in a tangle of pale limbs. Angel surged to his feet, roaring with anger and attacked his childe on the spot.

Buffy sat up and watched the two fight for a moment before it dawned upon her exactly what had happened. What she had almost let happen. With Angel, as always, she lost all control. The soul and blood bonds between them had strengthened with their close proximity and their desperate need for each other along with them. She jumped to her feet and dived headfirst into the fray.

Angel had kicked Spike into the far wall and was attacking with a roundhouse kick that Spike countered with a sweep and block followed by a right armed throw. Angel somersaulted out of the throw in a fluid motion too fast for Buffy's eyes to follow and turned, snarling to leap at his childe. He was stopped mid-step by a naked, tousled whirlwind, who grabbed him in a wrist-lock and snapped his arm behind him, pushing hard enough to break a human's bones with a snap. Buffy pushed him to the floor, straddling his wide, naked back and holding him in place.

Angel stopped, fury forgotten as he realized what he'd almost done. "Buffy, Spike, god, I'm so sorry, I don't know why I'm losing control like this. I feel like Angelus is right beneath the surface fighting me at every turn to get out."

"So, what, you thought as long as the crazed one was there, you might as well get a ride on the soul train?" Spike sneered, furious at his sire's lack of control. "I thought you were supposed to be the good bloodsucker. Look at you now, you bloomin' idiot."

Buffy let go of Angel's arm and climbed off of him, stepping quickly to the bed and pulling the sheets up to her neck. "Angel, is it possible that something has changed with the curse? You seem to be acting so different."

Angel nodded reluctantly. "I didn't want to tell you before I knew if it would work, but I…we found a spell in LA. One to anchor my soul. Only, it seems like the demon is becoming stronger, as well. I'm feeling…darker…more passionate about everything. About Spike," he glanced at his childe, gloriously naked and unashamedly glowering at his sire, "and about you." I'm not sure how much worse it's going to get…I still have three more rituals to complete before it will be finished at Yule."

"Are you out of you freaking skull, Sire?" Spike yelled. "Yule is nearly five bloody months away. How're we going to make it that far if you can't keep that wank of yours in your pants for more than an hour at a time?" *Here you thought he cared about you, stupid pillock. He doesn't care, he just wants a punching bag. You're convenient, for a change…that's all, William,* he sneered at himself internally.

"Angel," Buffy said, looking at him seriously. "I know we can't be…together, but what if…what if I don't freak out about Spike being with us. He…he didn't scare me before," she said, blushing a rosy pink. "I think, if you both go slow with me, that maybe, I mean, I know I'm not very good, but maybe that would help you…" her voice trailed off in shame as she looked down, unwilling to meet his eyes.

"Buffy, NO!" Angel cried. "Beloved, you don't understand…you've never understood. Angelus…I was trying to hurt you that morning. To find the most terrible thing you could possibly hear. I knew you were innocent. He played on that…but he lied. He LIED, Buffy. I lost my soul because of how wonderful you were…I was in heaven, Buffy….HEAVEN. You were amazing. You were everything." Angel walked to the bed and sat on it, gazing deeply into Buffy's eyes. "Buffy, Angelus…I…we both wanted you so much it drove us crazy. After being with you it was even worse. You were all I…he could think about. The things he wanted to do to you…God, it scares me just to think of them. But Buffy, know this…no matter how depraved, how dark and twisted his desires were, they sprang from the same place that my love for you does. Neither of us could resist you."

"You certainly seemed to be just fine with that afterwards," Buffy muttered. She took some comfort from his words…apparently Spike wasn't the only one who enjoyed her body. But why had Angel left her…*duh, stupid. Look what just nearly happened. If he really did want you, what would he do…he'd leave to protect you.* Suddenly his seeming abandonment of her became easier to understand and accept. *He was protecting me from himself.*

"Ok, so that's the what. But here's the thing…I don't want to lose you…either of you…again. I need you both right now, Angel. What can we do to help you with the curse?"

Spike nodded in agreement. "Don't bloody want Angelus running around mucking things up again, Sire. I'll do what it takes to keep you under control till you finish the last ritual." He joined them on the bed, crawling lithely to grab a pillow and make himself comfortable.

"Will, you've always looked just like a cat when you did that," Angel laughed, glad for once to have everything out in the open. "Buffy, I know we moved too fast for you earlier…but what if you're the one in control…would that be ok? With Spike here to keep me in line, we could…see what happens…"

Buffy nodded shyly but eagerly. "I want you both. And…and I don't care if that makes me a slut. God only knows if I'm even going to live to see 20. I'm going to do this now. I want my body back." Her voice had a strength that had been missing for some time, and she shook her short golden-brown curls decisively as she leaned forward to circle one warm arm around Spike's waist while she kissed Angel deeply.

He returned her kiss with passionate gratitude for this amazing woman and the second, third, fourth chances she kept throwing his way. Spike moved in her arms until his head was nestled between her sheet-covered breasts. Slowly he dragged the silky fabric down, teasing the tips of the rounded mounds with the sheet. Buffy kissed Angel deeper and moaned into his mouth as Spike finally dropped the sheet and leaned forward to suck one hard nipple into his mouth.

Spike grinned at her moans of helpless passion and bared the top of her mound, tugging gently at the soft curly hair he found there. He could smell his Sire on her, and the scent drove him wild with want. Spike glanced up once at Angel with golden eyes, before sinking down to Buffy's triangle and nestling his nose into the glistening curls. He pushed her legs slowly apart and ran sensitive fingers down her outer lips. Teasing them with soft strokes too gentle to truly satisfy the writhing girl, Spike blew across her tiny clit and watched it harder in response. Buffy gasped in shocked pleasure, unused to this new sensation.

Angel sat up and reached large hands to cup her aching breasts, turning and pulling her into his lap to allow Spike more access to her heated center. Angel rubbed his thumbs across her hard nipples, flicking them with rough thumbnails until she moaned in need. "Please, Angel…Spike….God, please."

"Please, what, Slayer? What do you want me to do?" Spike smirked up at her, blowing yet another cool breath across her desperate clit. He spread her legs with a push of his muscular white shoulders and blew harder as she panted helplessly. He wanted her in control of this…she needed to feel the power she held over them both.

"Please…won't you touch me?" Buffy was too shy to say what she really wanted, but hoped he'd know anyway.

"Slayer, if you're old enough to do it, you're old enough to talk about it. What shall I do to you, Luv? What do you want of me? I'm your slave, Slayer, command me." Spike was enjoying this moment far too much to rush it. Forcing Buffy to take control put her at his mercy and far from objecting, she seemed to revel in it. Of course, he had no mercy for her, at least, that's what he told himself.

"Spike," she said, blushing, "I want you to taste me, please."

Spike leaned forward and licked her with one long, slow movement of his cool tongue. "Mmm, Angel is right, Buffy, I should beg you for more." The Slayer's arousal tasted like ambrosia to Spike. Salty musk that was, dare he think it, *almost better than blood. Gods, I'm as much of a ninny as my blinking Sire!*

Buffy gasped and raised her hips to Spike's mouth, begging, "Please, please, please, Spike, yes…oooh, god!" she screamed as Spike finally spread her open and kissed her cunt, sucking at the moisture gathered there and lapping at her molten core.

Angel twisted her aching nipples with just the right painful pleasure and spread passionate kisses up and down her neck before sucking her earlobe into his mouth to tease it with his fangs. Buffy rubbed her breasts into his hands and arched into Spike's talented mouth, groaning in passion and abandon.

Spike laved her clit with long light strokes of his cool tongue, enflaming Buffy even more before dipping lower to taste the honey dripping from her. She was so hot, he could feel the pulse beating frantically under his mouth and longed to sink fangs into her and drink deep. Game face surfaced at the thought and he turned to tease her thigh with his fangs. Scraping softly across the surface, he sucked hard at the smooth skin above the artery there. Gods and monsters…so close, her blood was calling to him. He didn't want to hurt her…but he did. He wanted to rend and tear, to taste her unbelievable blood as it poured from her body. But even more than that, he wanted to possess her. Spike wanted Buffy to scream his name as she came…to forget that Angel held her and to focus only on Spike.

Angel sucked at his mark on Buffy's neck, only now really noticing that Spike had been there and opened the wound again. He could taste his childe's saliva on his mate's neck and it compelled an instant aggressive response from his demon. Reasserting his claim, he sank aching fangs deep into the tough scar tissue while pulling roughly at Buffy's sensitized nipples.

At Angel's bite and Spike's skillful sucking, Buffy exploded into orgasm, bucking into Spike's avid mouth and arching into her mate's fangs at the same time. The painful bite held her fixed on the wave of pleasure for long seconds before she crashed over into the bliss that followed. It seemed even more intense because of the pain that preceded it, and for the first time, Buffy thought she understood why the vampires liked to mix pain with pleasure in their play.

Angel groaned against her neck, licking gently at the wounds to close them. He and Spike gazed into each other's amber eyes and they moved as one, laying Buffy gently to one side on the pillows before reaching for each other.

Buffy watched in amazed satiation as her lovers kissed. It was nothing like the gentle kisses they pressed on her. This was violent, animalistic rut. They tore at each other's mouths with fang and tongue, sucking the blood from lips and biting passionately at each other. Angel forced Spike's head down and Spike sucked his hard cock into his mouth in one movement. Buffy watched as Spike licked Angel from root to head, lapping eagerly at the end before engulfing him again. *I couldn’t do that,* she thought…*he's just way too big!*

Angel pulled his childe off of him and flipped him over with his head next to Buffy on the pillows. Rubbing his glistening cock against Spike's waiting ass, Angel plunged home in one desperate thrust and Spike moaned in lustful pain at his sire's possession. Beginning a slow pace, Angel pulled Spike's hips back to himself, grinding further into his childe with every stroke. Buffy couldn't believe how beautiful they looked, how dangerous…with game faces on and blood still dripping from the corners of their mouths. She'd thought she was spent, but now…now she was dripping again, with want and lust.

She leaned forward and captured Spike's mouth in a hard kiss and he grabbed for her shoulders, pulling her under him and Angel with one strong movement. He positioned himself at her entrance and paused, looking into her eyes for permission before thrusting home. Buffy shrieked in pleasure and Spike's eyes rolled back as he was simultaneously fucked by Angel while fucking Buffy.

Spike had never known such heady pleasure before. The Slayer's hot little body was clutching at him with muscles that would surely rip him to shreds. And his Sire's cold cock was penetrating him deeper with every thrust and pushing him deeper into the Slayer as well.

Angel controlled their motion, pulling Spike back and out of Buffy with his large hands braced on Spike's hips before pushing back into his childe and grinding Spike into Buffy again. Spike was going to be split apart or burned to death in the inferno that was the Slayer, he was sure, but he'd die a happy vampire.

Angel increased the tempo and Buffy began panting in lust as her pussy squeezed Spike tighter and faster with every thrust. Spike was moaning into her mouth now, kissing her desperately.

Angel felt his climax approaching and thrust faster as Buffy's cries indicated that she, too was coming. As the orgasm broke over him, Angel leaned forward and bit into Spike's neck. Spike, not able to actually bite Buffy, nevertheless, latched onto his sire's still oozing bite and sucked the blood from her neck as she pulled him with her over the precipice. They plunged together into the bliss and calm of their aftermaths and separated just enough to collapse into a heap with Angel on one side of Buffy and Spike on the other.

"If that's what it takes to keep Angelus away, you can bloody count me in every time," Spike growled, his game face sliding off and his handsome baby blues twinkling cheerily at Angel. He grinned impudently at Buffy, then and added, "of course, Slayer, you know that this is a real chore for me."

Buffy punched him gently in the arm, too happy and spent to mind his teasing and secretly pleased that he seemed so overcome. She kissed Spike and then leaned over to give Angel a longer, tender kiss. She curled her hot body gratefully between their cool ones and sank into the most restful sleep she'd had since the night Angel had left her so long ago. Her lovers grinned at each other in triumph and curled themselves around her warmth to sleep, as well

Chapter 15

Buffy pulled herself from the cool clutches of her vampiric lovers and walked slowly to the bathroom. She ran herself a hot bath, pouring a heaping cup of vanilla bubble bath into it and hissing as she climbed in. She was sore in places she hadn't expected, but it was a good feeling, rather like working a set of long-ignored muscles. Laying her head back against the cool marble, she thought about exactly what she was going to say to Giles when he arrived back in Sunnydale later that afternoon.

On the one hand, she was still more than a little angry at him and her other friends for not realizing that Faith had switched their bodies. After all, Buffy had known Giles in demon form, shouldn't he have recognized her somehow? She knew she was being irrational -- after all, Giles had been trying to act like himself, whereas Faith had been trying to act like Buffy. It was no wonder she'd been able to fool them. But Buffy still felt betrayed, however irrational the feeling. Betrayed and…well…lost. With no friends and no watcher for most of the summer, not to mention the loss of her mother *and* her home, she would have felt bad enough, even leaving aside the rape and beating she'd gone through.

One thing was certain, though, she decided. No one was telling her what to do anymore. She was content with her living situation, however bizarre it might be. She wasn't giving up either of her undead lovers…not without a fight.

Ducking her head under the warm water, she swooshed the short curls back and forth to get them thoroughly wet before surfacing. She wiped the water from her eyes and reached one hand for the shampoo, but it wasn't there. Suddenly, she felt something dripping onto her head and looked up to see Angel crouching by the tub surround with the shampoo bottle. He half-smiled at her in his knowing way and put the bottle down, moving cool hands to massage the shampoo into her scalp. Buffy sighed in pleasure and relaxed into his hands, loving the feel of his strong fingers stroking and tugging at her thick hair. He rubbed and caressed until every inch of her head felt like it had been smoothed with velvet. When she was about ready to fall asleep, he pushed her back under the water to rinse.

Buffy came up, sputtering, and splashed him with a fistful of bubbles. Angel actually laughed out loud and splashed her back, his much larger hand getting a good bit more water into the action. Buffy retaliated by pulling him headlong into the tub with her.

Angel surfaced, looking completely shocked and very silly with his hair dripping water from each spiky tuft. Spluttering needlessly, he caught her and pulled her to him, about to push her back under the water again, when the sight of her pink nipples peeking through the bubbles made him go very still. He slowly reached his hands out to cup her breasts gently, his cool palms pebbling the nipples instantly in the warm water.

Buffy groaned and moved closer to Angel, literally awash in the sensations he provoked so easily within her. She reached for him, but his control was back this morning and he knew that if he let her touch him, all that hard-won resolve would disappear. Instead, he pushed her back against the side of the tub and grinned knowingly at her before disappearing under the bubbles.

Buffy gasped as she felt Angel's cool hands pushing her thighs apart. It had never occurred to her that he really didn't need to breathe. His sensitive fingers moved slowly up her legs until he reached the tender hollows of her hips. He pushed them even further apart, teasing the soft skin there, stretching and opening her to his questing fingers. She felt one cool finger tease her nether lips, stroking first one, then the other until she groaned in desire.

Suddenly, the water sloshed around her as he surged forward, taking her clit in his cold mouth. Buffy shrieked in lust as Angel sucked her. He pressed first one then two fingers into her warm pussy and she nearly jumped out of the water. She responded to the rhythm he set, rocking against his fingers and mouth until she came in a burst of pleasure.

Spike chose that exact moment to strut into the bathroom, plopping himself next to her on the tub surround in all his naked glory. Buffy thought, *I will never get used to naked Spike. Never, never, never. And he never seems even the slightest bit embarrassed about being nude.* She, on the other hand, was feeling decidedly exposed, which she knew was stupid, since he'd seen and touched everything already.

"So, Slayer, decided to have a little party all by your lonesome here in the tub? Should'a called me. I would have come and joined you," he punned, looking at her with dark eyes that screamed sex.

"Um, you thought I was…" Buffy paused, unwilling to even say the word.

"Well, I'd call it wanking, if t'were me, but I'm not sure what you call it, Slayer. Still, kinda silly for you to do it all alone," he purred. "There's plenty of me to go around." He grinned cockily at her and stroked his hand down her damp arm, sending tingles up and down her nerves.

Angel chose that moment to surface between her legs, shaking his head like a dog to rid it of water. He licked his lips and slid up her slippery body to kiss her. Spike yelped and fell backwards off the tub, landing in an undignified tangle on the floor. Buffy burst out laughing, and Angel looked confused for a moment, then grinned himself as Spike swore a blue streak on the floor.

"Jesus Christ, Peaches, give a guy a little warning before you do that. Trying to kill me - again? Now I see what you were up to, Slayer. Don't lose his soul for him, Pet, though it sounded more like you were the one doing the screaming." Spike stood up and gazed at the two lovers with lust-filled eyes. If he were brutally honest with himself, he didn't know which of them was more enticing to him right now. The Slayer was all golden sunshine, her skin glowing a healthy tan and her eyes the green-hazel of turning leaves.

But his sire, oh. Darkness personified was Angel. Night dark eyes, dark hair, dark nature, with that strong, dangerous body that dominated everything around him. Spike knew that much of the pull he felt was the sire/childe bond. It wasn't even precisely sexual, though that was the simplest expression of it. It was a sense of being complete, of being home that he always felt when he was near Angel, no matter how he tried to fight it.

As an alpha, a master vampire in his own right, the nearly automatic submission he felt when near Angel grated on his every nerve, but the satisfaction of that submission also soothed the very nerves that Angel upset so. It was different with a female sire, though certainly Angelus and Darla had delighted in some knock down drag out fights. She was right brutal, was his grandsire, but he'd always had the feeling that Angelus tolerated the abuse because he enjoyed it, not because he craved the submission that went with it.

Spike shook his head angrily at himself. *Turning me into a bloody pouf, he is. Look at me, all broody, just like his majesty. I need a good fight, that's what…to set everything aright again.* "So," he smirked coolly at the waterlogged lovers, "you two spending the rest of the afternoon in there, or you coming out?"

"Afternoon, God, what time is it, Spike?" Buffy asked, standing and climbing quickly from the warm tub.

Spike wrapped her in a huge towel, surrounding her like an infant and hugging her in his strong arms, rubbing briskly to dry her off. "It's a bit after 3, why, Pet?"

"Damn," Buffy swore. "Giles's plane is supposed to get here at 3:30 today, that's why, Spike. I've got to get to the airport, pronto." She pushed away from him and scrubbed the towel across her head rapidly to dry her hair. "At least this is quick now," she muttered, dropping the towel and walking to the bedroom to pull on clean underwear, a tank-top, sweats and a flannel shirt. Cramming her sneakers on, she sprinted for the door, leaving her nonplussed lovers staring after her in amazement.

"Wow, I haven't seen her move that quickly in a while," Angel remarked as he climbed out of the tub.

Spike took one longing look at his sire's large dripping frame and swore, stomping from the bathroom and grabbing for his own clothes. He crammed himself into his jeans and turned to face Angel, coming from the bathroom and drying himself with another sheet, this one dwarfed by his huge frame. His muscles glistened with water and Spike's eyes followed the trail of one droplet down the broad chest to the tapered waist and down further…

Spike swallowed and blurted out, "Looks like you need some exercise, Sire. How about a little sparring session downstairs? Work off some of that tension you seem to carry around with you everywhere."

Angel looked up in bemusement. "You want to fight? Why?"

Spike glanced away. "Can't fight humans, the chip flares. Haven't caught that many demons of late. Need some exercise. Work off some steam. You know."

Angel nodded. He, too, could use the release. Being this close to Buffy kept him in an almost constant state of arousal and he had little outlet for it other than Spike. Angel knew that Spike resented the power of the sire/childe bond and tried not to push the limits of his childe's tolerance too much. At least, when he could think. When he was actually caught up in the bond with Spike, thinking pretty much went out the window. Age-old instincts flared and his deep need to assert dominance took over the only way it could. *Well,* Angel thought, *I suppose I could just rip hunks of flesh out of him. Come to think of it, he might prefer that. But I wouldn't. He's so beautiful, so dangerous, such a mixture of assurance and vulnerability. Will is irresistible and the worst part is, he doesn't even know how marvelous he truly is.*

Angel pulled his own pants on and the two started down the stairs toward the kitchen. He pulled two packets of blood from the fridge while Spike grabbed their mugs from the cabinet. Companionably sipping the warmed blood after it came from the microwave, Angel and Spike walked to the great room. Angel finished first and began hauling the couch and chairs out of the way. Spike dragged the coffee table to the side and moved a lamp.

"Weapons?" Angel asked with an inquiring look at his childe.

"How about swords. Haven't bested you with those in some time." Spike smirked at him.

"You've never bested me with swords, Childe," Angel rumbled at Spike as he opened the long weapons chest and pulled two matched hand-and-a-half swords from it. Tossing one to Spike, as only a vampire could do with such a heavy weapon, Angel closed the chest and stalked toward his childe.

"Well, maybe not, but the Slayer has…" Spike sneered.

Angel blinked for a moment, then remembered the fight with Buffy in this very room and its dreadful aftermath. "Thanks, Spike," he growled.

"What for, Peaches?" Spike asked, a bit askance at Angel's sudden ferocity.

"For making me *want* to fight you. En garde!"

*

Buffy wanted to run. She wanted to fight. She wanted to be anywhere but here, in the airport, waiting for Giles to get off the plane. It was a good thing that Giles had bought his tickets so long ago, since he'd had no way to contact her since he'd left. She'd lost the house only a few weeks later, so even if he had called her, he wouldn't have been able to reach anyone with the phone disconnected.

Part of her, a small, childish part, hoped he'd tried to call and been worried about her. With her mother gone and her father long absent from her life, Giles had become the only thing close to a parent. His abandonment of her, even though it wasn't meant to be so, had nonetheless been extremely traumatic.

She searched the crowd for that familiar bespectacled profile. Laughing couples exited the plane, children ran to greet grandparents. Friends raced into each other's arms. Never had she been more conscious of her own isolation from humanity. She was alone. Alone in the dark with her vampires, both friend and foe.

Shaking her head and kicking herself mentally for being so damn morose, Buffy continued to search the crowd. At last, she saw the slightly balding head and tweed-encased frame of her Watcher striding off the plane.

Rupert Giles paced forward, grateful to be free of the enclosed confines of the plane and the overwhelming press of crude humanity that accompanied him. This was why he preferred books to people. Most of them had the refined sensibilities of cockroaches, in his humble opinion. *Ah, but where is Buffy?* He scanned the crowd for the familiar blonde head and scantily clad body of his Slayer, passing over a drab-looking girl with short golden-brown curls without a second glance. He walked forward and jumped, startled as the girl grabbed him and hugged him.

"I say, who…Buffy?" he gasped, amazed at the difference in her appearance. She let him go and stepped back a ways. Though he'd often wished that Buffy would spend a bit, well actually a great deal, less time worrying about her appearance and a bit more time on books and strategy, he'd never in a million years expected to see her looking quite so…drab. She was thin, much thinner than when he'd last seen her and her eyes…her eyes spoke of pain that time hadn't dulled. What in God's name had happened whilst he was gone?!

Giles polished his glasses and stared at his Slayer, uncertain of what to say. "Um, er, ah, Buffy, good to see you. You're looking…um, I hope your summer has been uneventful?" His voice trailed off as she gazed at him stonily for a moment.

"Shouldn't we be getting your luggage?" Buffy said, dropping her eyes from his, unwilling to discuss anything too intimate in this setting.

Giles honored her unspoken wishes and gestured for her to proceed him towards the luggage carousel. They waited in uncomfortable silence, surrounded by myriad other travelers with lovers, friends and children babbling in exuberant tones. Giles was now struck by how out of place Buffy seemed. She'd never been uneasy in crowds before, but she winced as if hurt every time a moderately loud noise occurred. And she shrank from the touch of the other people surrounding them as if she'd been burned. Clearly all was far from well with his Slayer.

After retrieving his bags, Giles and Buffy walked to the curb and he hailed a cab to take them back to his apartment. "So, how *has* your summer been?" he inquired genially, as they rode in the back seat, thinking the question innocuous enough for public consumption. To his surprise, Buffy's eyes filled with tears and she pulled away towards the door, looking out the window to distance herself from him.

"Let's wait…wait till we get to your place," her voice cracked and she sniffed, sounding close to weeping.

"Of course, of course…" he trailed off, uncertain of what he'd said to upset her so.

They arrived and he paid the cabby, tipping moderately and they carried his bags inside. Buffy placed the ones she carried on the floor and went to look out the window, visibly withdrawing from him.

Giles was unsure how to proceed. He didn't want to push…"Tea! Would you care for some tea, Buffy?"

"Sure."

He nodded in relief and walked to the kitchen, taking comfort in the predictable ritual. Scald the pot to warm it while the water boiled on the stove. Measure the loose tea into the ball and close it. Damn. He'd no cream or lemon slices. Well, they'd have to make do with sugar. At least the brown sugar cubes he'd brought back from England were ready and available in his travel case. He drained the teapot and placed the ball in, filling it up and covering it with a cozy to steep. He waited in silence for a few minutes, puttering about in the kitchen for no real reason.

"So. The Watchers' conference went well. We discussed some fascinating cases. I actually presented on several myself…um," he fiddled with his glasses again, "do you care to say what you've been up to while I was away?" he asked uncertainly from the kitchen as he filled two cups with the warm liquid and added sugar. He carried the cups out and placed one on the table near the window, turning and sitting on his couch to face Buffy.

"Faith stole my body. You didn't notice. She slept with Riley and half a fraternity at school. She switched back and left me to be gang-raped at a bar. Riley dumped me. I left school. Mom died. I lost the house. I killed two men. Spike saved me. Angel helped him. I'm living with Spike and Angel at the mansion now." Buffy continued to stare out the window, delivering the laundry list of atrocities in a toneless voice as if she were reciting a list of chores.

Giles spat the sip of tea he'd taken across the room, choking in shock at Buffy's words. He dropped the cup to the table with a thunk and leaped to his feet, crossing the room in seconds to grab Buffy's shoulders and turn her about to face him.

"My God, Buffy. Don't make sick jokes about such dire things, for goodness sake!" he shouted, glaring into her face and praying that was all this was. Her shell-shocked features gave the lie to his hope and he sank to his knees, holding the girl in his arms as she began to cry, softly at first and then with great wrenching sobs that shook her entire too-thin frame.

"Shush, shush, Buffy, it's alright. Everything is alright now. I'm here. I'm here Buffy." His awkwardness disappeared as he held the girl who was like his daughter in his arms and tried to comfort her with soft and gentle words. *But who will comfort me?* he wondered. *I left her, I didn't even recognize her. Or perhaps I was too caught up in my own life. I've felt adrift since she started college, unable to truly guide her anymore as she becomes an adult. I've distanced myself from her every chance I got and this…this catastrophic result was my fault. I should have known, damn it!* Eventually, her shuddering stopped and she quieted, leaning against his chest and sighing as he wiped her face with his handkerchief.

Giles drew the Slayer to his couch, tucking an afghan around her securely and handing her tea cup to her. She sipped at it slowly and haltingly recounted the grim tale of Faith's crime, the body switch and return, and subsequent trials she'd had to face alone, with no friends, no family and no Watcher to comfort or guide her. Giles was struck by the loneliness and despair that pervaded the earlier parts of the account and the self-assurance with which she spoke of Spike and Angel. Whatever his decidedly mixed feelings about the vampires, there was no questioning that without them, Buffy would almost certainly have perished.

Chapter 16

Spike was having a bloody marvelous time. Literally. He lunged at Angel, scything the sword across his sire's bare midsection with a graceful swing. Angel narrowly missed being gutted by the sharp blade, jumping backward at the last moment so the tip just grazed his abs.

"First blood," Spike smirked at his sire, running one finger down the flat of the blade and scooping up Angel's blood. He stuck the finger in his mouth and savored the rich taste like a child stealing frosting. He didn’t get to mock for long, though. Angel retaliated with a parry and riposte that shouldn't have been possible with a broadsword. Vampiric strength and agility made the impossible easy and the two fell to fighting in earnest.

Angel scored the next hit, several minutes later, feinting to the left and actually convincing Spike that he was headed there. Instead, he danced forward on the balls of his feet and licked the blade across his childe's muscular biceps, scoring it lightly, but deep enough to sting.

"Bollocks!" Spike swore, grabbing at the cut for a moment and then rushing forward to punish his sire for the insulting ease with which he'd scored. Angel taunted the smaller male, spinning and kicking his childe's legs out from under him and chuckling as the swearing grew more inventive.

"You've been spending too much time brawling and no time training," Angel said, disapprovingly. "What did I teach you about slacking off?"

Spike snarked back, "When do I have time to dance around in pansy-ass sword practice, Sire? Too busy trying to off the Slayer…and now a days…well, too busy doing other things to her," he laughed, then swallowed as Angel growled and leapt for him in deadly earnest response.

The parries and lunges flew back and forth in a blur of motion as each master vampire tried to gain the upper hand. Spike was faster, but Angel was amazingly light on his feet. His combination of grace, power and speed was truly formidable.

"Too many of our foes, demon or human, use the sword as a preferred weapon, Childe. I taught you that over a century ago and it still holds true today. Look at the Three or the Assassins. It doesn't do to get clumsy, William. Or you *will* be bloody!" Angel's sword licked once to Spike's left cheek, once to the right in lighting fast strikes that left stinging wounds dripping blood from the jutting cheekbones.

Spike snarled, forgetting for the moment that this was just in play and transported back to his fledgling days when Angelus forced hours of sword practice on him daily and punished the slightest slip with horrific tortures each night. Spike had hated the humiliation worse than the pain. Knowing that his sire could best him at any time and chose to punish him instead…it drove him mad with anger. He'd learned faster than any fledgling of Angelus's…much faster than Penn, who'd only sought to learn the torture, not the finesse.

Spike knew he'd never beat Angel at this, his chosen game. The trick was to change the rules. Spike was a master at that. He glanced around the room, looking for possible tools and found nothing at first. Then his eyes lit on one of Buffy's discarded shirts. He could smell her scent on it from here and if he could, then bets were on that Angel was drowning in it. *Probably why the big lummox is in such a state,* he thought to himself.

He danced backwards from Angel's flitting blade and made his way, as if in retreat, to the shirt. Scooping it up in his right hand, he continued to hold Angel off with his left. Spike lifted the shirt to his nose and took a dramatic breath from it, looking deep into Angel's dark eyes. He stroked down the side of his bleeding face with the shirt, rubbing it sensually across his chest and using the soft flannel to tease his nipples into hardness without breaking Angel's gaze.

Angel stopped dead in his tracks, swallowing convulsively while he watched his childe play with his mate's shirt. Spike licked his lips suggestively, then opened his mouth wider, as if waiting for it to be filled.

Angel dropped his sword and lunged for his childe. Spike dropped his as well, but his lunge was accompanied by a fast right and equally brutal left uppercut to Angel's chiseled chin. His sire dropped like a sack of potatoes from his homeland and sprawled on the floor at Spike's feet. Spike was quick to take advantage of his momentary weakness and leapt for his sire, pinning him to the floor and punching him in the gut hard enough to bruise even vampiric flesh.

"That's for the cut on my right cheek," he panted, "and that's for the cut on my left. This is for fucking me in front of the Slayer," a right jab to the chin…"and thi…" his voice was halted as Angel's large hand grabbed Spike's muscled neck and propelled him backward into the wall.

Angel lunged for his childe and slammed him into the wall again, embarrassed and enraged that his childe could distract him so easily. He lifted Spike's smaller frame and held him against the stone wall, grinding his naked back into the rough surface and drawing blood. The scent was intoxicating…filled with rage and suppressed desire; familiar family scent and the elusive but powerful tang of the Slayer, as well.

"You taunt me at your own peril, Childe. I did not give you permission to drink from my mate," Angel growled dangerously as Spike hung in his huge hands. "Nor did you ask my permission to fuck her. Or eat her. She is mine, I claimed her, I marked her, and you may not trespass against my will. I care not whether the bite was yours…the result is the same. I can scent her blood in you, Childe and I AM NOT PLEASED," he roared. He bit viciously into Spike's neck, tearing at the white flesh with no regard to his childe's pleasure or pain.

This was challenge and response, pure and simple. No childe could drink from a mate without permission. It wasn't done. And it wasn't up to the mate…not in vampire clans. Angel might not be the scourge that Angelus had been, but the instincts were the same and when challenged, the result might be the same as well.

Spike sagged in Angel's grasp, unable to contest the issue with his sire drinking so forcefully from him. Automatic, ingrained response made him submit, and even his alpha identity shuddered away from contesting another's mate. What he had done was punishable by death, should his sire demand it. And yet, he couldn't regret tasting Buffy. She was so strong, so alive, despite her inner turmoil. Her blood was the richest he'd ever tasted and its strength flowed through his veins now, changing him in ways he'd never anticipated. He felt as if he'd gained a century's worth of power from the tiny taste he'd had of her. Now he knew how Angel had become so strong. Hells, his sire had drained her to the point of death after Faith had poisoned him, according to the Slayer's friends. Only multiple transfusions had saved her. Spike could only guess at the power that Angel had gained from that forbidden feast.

At last, Angel lifted his head, his mouth dripping blood that he licked languidly from his lips and chin. He let Spike slump to the floor, and paced to the swords, walking back and cleaning them on his childe's jeans before replacing them carefully in the weapon trunk. Each gesture was confirmation of Spike's place as beta male, and each slight enraged him further. Yet he could do nothing to retaliate. Angel held all the cards. The Slayer would do what Angel wished, Spike knew, and until the thrice damned chip was out of his head, so would he. He sighed and leaned his head back against the wall, wondering how he'd gotten himself into this mess and how he could ever get out.

*

*If I drink any more damned tea, I will float away to mother England,* thought Giles to himself. Tea, along with polishing his glasses, was his automatic response to stress. Well, that and a spot or two of something in the tea, to help sooth anxious nerves. But he'd felt uneasy drinking in front of Buffy, as if that sought to negate her pain somehow. She deserved more from him, God knew, so he simply brewed more tea whilst she recited the events of her summer in hell with a steady voice that was much too calm. Clearly, she was still traumatized by the events, one only had to look at her appearance to know that. Giles had never seen her hide in plain view before, but that was precisely what his Slayer was attempting to do.

She'd cut the golden hair that drew so many admiring glances from males, old and young…cropped it to the point of androgyny. The earrings she'd always worn were gone, along with the rings with which she'd loved to festoon her hands, despite his warnings that they might impinge on her slaying. He knew now why he'd failed to recognize her at the airport…even her demeanor had changed. The prancing strut of a confident teenager in her prime had given way to a hunch-shouldered, wincing mien that screamed "don't notice me." Giles had no idea how to deal with this, nor, indeed, whether Buffy was even aware of the signals she sent out.

He did know that his very touch made her extremely uneasy. He'd felt tension in her the moment he'd hugged her to him near the window; and once her crying had worn off, she seemed exceedingly uncomfortable if he moved too near her. Giles wondered how many people she'd been near in the past two months…certainly it couldn't have been many from Buffy's reaction to him. He kept his observations to himself, making a mental note to record them in his Watcher's diary later that day, while they were still fresh in his mind. He had to find a way to help his young Slayer…she seemed on the verge of breaking…a fate that could be catastrophic to them all.

*

Angel moved the furniture back to its usual positions in the great room, studiously avoiding the gaze of his childe. He'd lost control of the demon again. It was becoming an almost daily occurrence, and one that he could not seem to stop. Spike had always been his most difficult childe, and Angelus had gloried in his punishments, devising new and ever more painful methods for controlling his feisty fledgling. The past warred with the present as the demon warred with the soul, and Angel himself was unsure of the outcome.

He paced back to his childe and offered a hand to him. Spike glared at Angel for a long moment before accepting the offer and pulling himself laboriously to his feet. Angel didn't offer his neck to his childe, that would negate the point he'd made earlier, but he did guide the slighter man to the kitchen, where he prepared more blood for them both.

Spike gazed inscrutably at his sire as he sat and sipped the warm liquid. "So, Peaches, when are we going to LA to get this bloody chip outta my skull?" he queried.

"We need to make sure that Buffy will be all right before we can go anywhere," Angel said, not meeting his childe's eyes.

"Should be easy, now that the Watcher's back. He'll take her under his wing and we can scarper off to see that doc of yours. Unless you've decided to welsh on your word, that is, Peaches," Spike sneered.

"I keep my word, Spike. You'll have the chip out. What you do after that is up to you," Angel gritted, unwilling to admit how much he feared the outcome of that surgery.

"I'll believe that when I see it, Sire. Ah, well, innit time for the Slayer to be returning?" Spike asked, trying not to sound too concerned and failing miserably.

"I think we should go check on her," Angel rumbled, worried that Giles could have handled his volatile mate in exactly the wrong way and wondering how Buffy had reacted to her Watcher's return.

They finished the blood and headed upstairs for fresh clothes to replace their blood spattered jeans. That done, the vampires vanished into the night… predators in search of the one who preyed on them…a strange state of affairs, indeed.

*

Buffy remained crouched on Giles's couch, holding her empty tea cup in both hands as if trying to draw some last warmth from the cool china. She wouldn't meet his eyes and had retreated into monosyllabic responses to his questions. Exhausted from his trip, all Giles really wanted at this point was his bed, but he was unwilling to shoo the Slayer out into the night as if he didn't care for her. She seemed unwilling to leave him, so he stood to make yet more tea in hopes it might keep him awake.

His door opened unexpectedly and he looked up to find Angel looming there in the dark, with Spike like a reverse shadow trailing behind him. Angel glanced down at Giles from under brooding brows. "May we come in, Giles?" he asked politely but gruffly.

"You've already been in here, both of you. I haven't invoked the ritual."

"I didn't mean that, I was just…trying to be polite," responded the dark vampire. The lighter one didn't bother with politeness, he just elbowed his sire aside and glided into the room, his sharp eyes fixed on the slumping slayer.

"Here, Pet, what's all this then. Would'a thought you'd be home hours ago. Watcher givin' you a hard time?" he asked, glaring at Giles for a moment before moving to kneel at Buffy's feet.

She reached one hand to him and Spike grabbed it between his own, rubbing as if he could warm her…a clear impossibility. "He's been fine, Spike, really. I just had…a lot to tell him."

"I bet," Spike snarked. "So Rupes, how does it feel to know you failed your Slayer…again?" he asked angrily.

Giles had no response, indeed, could not seem to process the sight of Spike kneeling before the Slayer. Rupert would have sworn before this moment that Spike would happily kill Buffy and dance in her blood or at the very least, stand by and cheer as she died. Instead, the blond vampire seemed to be doing his best to care for her. Giles's whole world seemed to tilt on its axis.

"That's enough, Spike," growled Angel. "Buffy is tired, it's time to get her home. Rupert, we're keeping night hours, lately. Buffy needs her sleep, she's been up too long as it is. You can come by the mansion tomorrow near twilight to see her, if you choose." The brooding vampire didn't give Giles so much as a by your leave, just scooped the unresisting Slayer up in his strong arms and slipped from the room. Spike trailed them and slammed the door behind him as he left.

"Good heavens," Giles said to himself, finally heading to the brandy bottle. "Now I know why active Watchers should never go on holiday." He headed upstairs with snifter in hand, weary bones aching for his familiar bed and conflicting thoughts pounding through his tired brain.

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Breaking A Slayer 17-20